watching, looking for signs of activity. It might just be paranoia, but he decided to tell RJ when she returned, just to be on the safe side.
Willie Jones, who preferred to be called Mickey, ducked quickly behind the dumpster. He didn't know whether it was a good idea to be seen or not.
It hadn't been difficult to find out where the platinum blonde goddess was staying. Not after she had blasted the GSH through her wall. He had been watching, waiting for her return. Now she was back, and he wanted very much to get in touch with her, but he would wait till she was alone. Mickey'd had no cause to trust anyone save himself, but now he trusted the woman. She had gone out of her way to save him when she'd no reason for doing so. All his life, no one—not parent, grandparent, aunt or uncle—had gone an inch out of their way for him. They had shoved him back and forth like a hot potato. When it became obvious that he wasn't going to grow, the Reliance had sent a message to his family saying that they would be coming for him. Even at twelve Mickey had known what that meant. He left home and went into hiding.
It hadn't been too hard to pass himself off as a child. What was hard was earning a living. Since Mickey couldn't risk Reliance involvement, he just sort of fell between the cracks. No one was going to take on an extra kid unless the Reliance ordered them to. To stay alive, he had learned to pick pockets—a career at which he excelled. Eventually, like most who have fallen out of grace with the Reliance, Mickey wound up in Alsterase.
He wanted very much to belong to something. This woman's interest in him had given him hope that he wouldn't have to spend the rest of his life alone. If being with her meant going up against the Reliance, so much the better.
RJ and Whitey scavenged the streets of Alsterase gleaning materials from structures long ago abandoned. When they came back to the apartment with their haul, David looked at it skeptically, but it soon became apparent that RJ and Whitey knew what they were doing. In less than two hours, the hole was patched.
While it couldn't be said that it was as good as new, it would keep the cold out and the warmth in. At least you couldn't see out of it.
David hadn't helped much. In fact, he hadn't helped at all. He was mad, and didn't even attempt to hide the fact. He did offer to go get lunch.
"Good idea, I'm starved," RJ said.
"Fine," David huffed. "Money, RJ?" He held out his hand, and she gave him a fistful of units. "Well, I'll just be going then." He left, being sure to slam the door good and hard on his way out.
"What in hell is wrong with him?" RJ said hotly. Whitey just shrugged. If she didn't know, he was damned if he was going to tell her.
"So, RJ, want to make the walls go thump?" Whitey asked, flopping down on the bed.
RJ laughed and shook her head.
"No, huh? Well, then how about I jump up and down on the bed, and you can groan," Whitey smiled broadly.
RJ laughed louder.
"I'm serious."
"What was your military specialty?" RJ asked.
"You're changing the subject. I was talking about sex," Whitey told her.
"Humor me," RJ said with her best crooked grin.
"I was Elite. I specialized in small arms and guerilla warfare. You?"
"I've been a colonel—temporary battlefield promotion. Lieutenant mostly." She played with a link of her chain. "Also Elite."
"Most of us are. So why did you leave the Corps?" Whitey was more than a little curious. Being Elite was a privilege. Elites rarely decided to just defect. There was no reason for them to rebel; they had everything they could want. Except real freedom of course. He wondered what could have made her leave her post and go after the Reliance with such a vengeance. He would have stayed right where he was and probably never noticed what was wrong with the world if they hadn't made him marry that fucking bitch.
"Simple
Willie Jones, who preferred to be called Mickey, ducked quickly behind the dumpster. He didn't know whether it was a good idea to be seen or not.
It hadn't been difficult to find out where the platinum blonde goddess was staying. Not after she had blasted the GSH through her wall. He had been watching, waiting for her return. Now she was back, and he wanted very much to get in touch with her, but he would wait till she was alone. Mickey'd had no cause to trust anyone save himself, but now he trusted the woman. She had gone out of her way to save him when she'd no reason for doing so. All his life, no one—not parent, grandparent, aunt or uncle—had gone an inch out of their way for him. They had shoved him back and forth like a hot potato. When it became obvious that he wasn't going to grow, the Reliance had sent a message to his family saying that they would be coming for him. Even at twelve Mickey had known what that meant. He left home and went into hiding.
It hadn't been too hard to pass himself off as a child. What was hard was earning a living. Since Mickey couldn't risk Reliance involvement, he just sort of fell between the cracks. No one was going to take on an extra kid unless the Reliance ordered them to. To stay alive, he had learned to pick pockets—a career at which he excelled. Eventually, like most who have fallen out of grace with the Reliance, Mickey wound up in Alsterase.
He wanted very much to belong to something. This woman's interest in him had given him hope that he wouldn't have to spend the rest of his life alone. If being with her meant going up against the Reliance, so much the better.
RJ and Whitey scavenged the streets of Alsterase gleaning materials from structures long ago abandoned. When they came back to the apartment with their haul, David looked at it skeptically, but it soon became apparent that RJ and Whitey knew what they were doing. In less than two hours, the hole was patched.
While it couldn't be said that it was as good as new, it would keep the cold out and the warmth in. At least you couldn't see out of it.
David hadn't helped much. In fact, he hadn't helped at all. He was mad, and didn't even attempt to hide the fact. He did offer to go get lunch.
"Good idea, I'm starved," RJ said.
"Fine," David huffed. "Money, RJ?" He held out his hand, and she gave him a fistful of units. "Well, I'll just be going then." He left, being sure to slam the door good and hard on his way out.
"What in hell is wrong with him?" RJ said hotly. Whitey just shrugged. If she didn't know, he was damned if he was going to tell her.
"So, RJ, want to make the walls go thump?" Whitey asked, flopping down on the bed.
RJ laughed and shook her head.
"No, huh? Well, then how about I jump up and down on the bed, and you can groan," Whitey smiled broadly.
RJ laughed louder.
"I'm serious."
"What was your military specialty?" RJ asked.
"You're changing the subject. I was talking about sex," Whitey told her.
"Humor me," RJ said with her best crooked grin.
"I was Elite. I specialized in small arms and guerilla warfare. You?"
"I've been a colonel—temporary battlefield promotion. Lieutenant mostly." She played with a link of her chain. "Also Elite."
"Most of us are. So why did you leave the Corps?" Whitey was more than a little curious. Being Elite was a privilege. Elites rarely decided to just defect. There was no reason for them to rebel; they had everything they could want. Except real freedom of course. He wondered what could have made her leave her post and go after the Reliance with such a vengeance. He would have stayed right where he was and probably never noticed what was wrong with the world if they hadn't made him marry that fucking bitch.
"Simple
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