gates, staring at those who approached.
Moses took the pile of fur from the boat. “I'm going to the tailor,” he yelled to his men as they struggled toward the gates, loaded down with crates and kegs. “Try not to bankrupt me before I return.”
What a dick. “Why did you even ask him to give us a lift?”
“My feet were tired. That saved us a couple of hours. Hope he didn’t scare you too much.”
“I’m not homophobic.”
Guy sniggered. “Believe me, you would have been, if he’d got his hands on you. Lucky I was there to protect you.”
Moses' men grunted and swore as they carried crates toward the gates. Chains rattled between the feet of the oarsmen, who sweated under the weight of two crates each. The slave-master cracked his whip behind them. Yet, still, they didn't turn on the man and beat him to a pulp.
Daniel wanted to run over, grab the keys, and unchain them all. But then what? If the bowmen didn't kill him, the oarsmen probably would. He couldn't force them to be free.
“They could have killed us.”
Guy strolled toward the gate. He didn't seem scared, but he must have been there many times before. Besides, he had guns. He'd probably killed more men than the Guards had.
“They could have tried, but I would have got a couple of them first. There’s a difference between jumping an unarmed newbie, and someone who’s lived by their wits and weapons for twenty years. A man can shoot you with the same gun you want to steal.”
A red circle inside a black triangle was painted on each side of the gate, like the patterns on the shinies, or two evil eyes staring at anyone who approached. “What are they?”
“You’ll find out.”
“You could just tell me.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Two bodies lay rotting by the wall, their guts hanging out and small flying things hovering over them. One was stripped bare, the other wore an orange jumpsuit. A rat chewed on the dead newbie's fingers. That could have been Daniel.
“Will anyone still be alive next week?”
“Life gets hectic when the newbies arrive. Lots of fresh faces who don't know the rules, lots of new power relationships to work out. It'll calm down in a month or two. Until next year.”
A cart of caged newbies rolled past, pulled by a hauler that hissed and sweated under the load. Daniel stared at the sullen faces of the two naked girls inside, and tried to ignore the rest of their bodies. Neither looked like Erica.
A drone hovered above the cart. More buzzed in from the sides as Guy and Daniel approached the gates, and their cameras moved in for closeups. Guy's drone wobbled nonchalantly above their heads.
“How do those drones know what to do?” Daniel said.
“Smart programmers. They look for large groups of people, or people moving in certain ways. Running, hiding, whatever. And the ship downloads new firmware and drops new drones every time it delivers a new cargo, so they program in points of interest, like this one. Or people of interest. Like me.”
Guy nodded to the Guards, whose gaze followed him as he strolled past, then through the gates. Daniel looked down, and sweated as he passed them. Better to look at the ground than cause trouble and end up on a spike. Unlike Guy, he didn’t have a gun, and didn’t know how to use one, if he did.
Then he was through, and he risked looking up. No paved streets, autocars, moving walkways, or air-conditioning like home. Just mud, a wooden boardwalk, and piles of garbage. Lopsided wooden buildings were randomly scattered along the boardwalk, with alleys where there was space between them. Wooden shutters covered the windows instead of glass, and dirty people with piggy eyes watched his every move. A few stalls filled a patch of mud in the street beyond the boardwalk, where capitalists showed off their wares. Some were no more than just a cloth spread over a crate, or a chopped down tree trunk. The more up-market had poles supporting a sunshade.
The whole place smelled
Moses took the pile of fur from the boat. “I'm going to the tailor,” he yelled to his men as they struggled toward the gates, loaded down with crates and kegs. “Try not to bankrupt me before I return.”
What a dick. “Why did you even ask him to give us a lift?”
“My feet were tired. That saved us a couple of hours. Hope he didn’t scare you too much.”
“I’m not homophobic.”
Guy sniggered. “Believe me, you would have been, if he’d got his hands on you. Lucky I was there to protect you.”
Moses' men grunted and swore as they carried crates toward the gates. Chains rattled between the feet of the oarsmen, who sweated under the weight of two crates each. The slave-master cracked his whip behind them. Yet, still, they didn't turn on the man and beat him to a pulp.
Daniel wanted to run over, grab the keys, and unchain them all. But then what? If the bowmen didn't kill him, the oarsmen probably would. He couldn't force them to be free.
“They could have killed us.”
Guy strolled toward the gate. He didn't seem scared, but he must have been there many times before. Besides, he had guns. He'd probably killed more men than the Guards had.
“They could have tried, but I would have got a couple of them first. There’s a difference between jumping an unarmed newbie, and someone who’s lived by their wits and weapons for twenty years. A man can shoot you with the same gun you want to steal.”
A red circle inside a black triangle was painted on each side of the gate, like the patterns on the shinies, or two evil eyes staring at anyone who approached. “What are they?”
“You’ll find out.”
“You could just tell me.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
Two bodies lay rotting by the wall, their guts hanging out and small flying things hovering over them. One was stripped bare, the other wore an orange jumpsuit. A rat chewed on the dead newbie's fingers. That could have been Daniel.
“Will anyone still be alive next week?”
“Life gets hectic when the newbies arrive. Lots of fresh faces who don't know the rules, lots of new power relationships to work out. It'll calm down in a month or two. Until next year.”
A cart of caged newbies rolled past, pulled by a hauler that hissed and sweated under the load. Daniel stared at the sullen faces of the two naked girls inside, and tried to ignore the rest of their bodies. Neither looked like Erica.
A drone hovered above the cart. More buzzed in from the sides as Guy and Daniel approached the gates, and their cameras moved in for closeups. Guy's drone wobbled nonchalantly above their heads.
“How do those drones know what to do?” Daniel said.
“Smart programmers. They look for large groups of people, or people moving in certain ways. Running, hiding, whatever. And the ship downloads new firmware and drops new drones every time it delivers a new cargo, so they program in points of interest, like this one. Or people of interest. Like me.”
Guy nodded to the Guards, whose gaze followed him as he strolled past, then through the gates. Daniel looked down, and sweated as he passed them. Better to look at the ground than cause trouble and end up on a spike. Unlike Guy, he didn’t have a gun, and didn’t know how to use one, if he did.
Then he was through, and he risked looking up. No paved streets, autocars, moving walkways, or air-conditioning like home. Just mud, a wooden boardwalk, and piles of garbage. Lopsided wooden buildings were randomly scattered along the boardwalk, with alleys where there was space between them. Wooden shutters covered the windows instead of glass, and dirty people with piggy eyes watched his every move. A few stalls filled a patch of mud in the street beyond the boardwalk, where capitalists showed off their wares. Some were no more than just a cloth spread over a crate, or a chopped down tree trunk. The more up-market had poles supporting a sunshade.
The whole place smelled
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