Pirate Sun by Karl Schroeder Page A

before he said, “You seemed to hit it off with those boys the other day. Knowing what Antaea is up to is actually less important than knowing how we can give her the slip. Agreed?” They nodded. “The home guard—according to Antaea—is offering to ship us home through their secret network. Very kind of them, but I don’t like the price they’re asking: information about the key to Candesce and what we got up to in the sun of suns. Richard, I’d like you to find anything you can about alternate routes home. Small-time smugglers, revolutionary cells—anyone who might be able to help us.”
    Richard stared off into space. “They’ll take me for a spy for the secret police,” he said. “I think I know how to convince them otherwise…”
    “Good. Darius, you and I will—” He stopped at the sound of footsteps in the hall. After a moment Antaea poked her head in the doorway.
    “Ah, there you are!” She sauntered in. “Cowering from the storm, are we?”
    “And where have you been?” asked Darius indignantly.
    “Home guard business,” she said. “Very interesting too; would you like to see?” Without waiting she dragged over the clothes chest which was the only piece of furniture in the little room other than the bed, table, and already-occupied chairs. Sitting with her knees high on either side of her, she laid a folded piece of cloth on the tabletop. She withdrew her hands and smiled around at the men.
    Taking the bait, Richard flipped the cloth back to reveal several paper bills. It looked like ordinary money, complete with the image of a half-familiar, regal woman adorning one side. He picked up one of the crisp new bills and examined it.
    Above the woman’s head were the words RIGHT TO ASSEMBLY , 30+ PERSONS . On the other side was a paragraph of dense text, very fine and small. “It seems to say what you can do,” he said, reading the fine print. “Organize meetings…rent out halls…it’s like a teacher’s permission slip,” he glanced at Antaea, “like for a day-trip or special project.”
    She nodded. “Except that these bills describe very adult projects—I’m told there’s even a right-to-kill bill, but nobody’s actually seen it.”
    “It looks like money,” said Darius, fingering another bill. “Very high-quality printing…hard to counterfeit. This some kind of…initiative,” he said, savoring the word, “by Falcon’s government?”
    Antaea shook her head. “It’s illicit. But very, very weird, don’t you think? I take it you’ve never seen anything like it before?”
    “People trading rights like money?” Chaison shook his head. “These bills look new. I never saw anything like it before our capture. Who’s trading these?”
    “People in the lower classes,” she said. “Day laborers, indigents, petty criminals, it seems. But there’s hints that others are starting to use it too—there seems to be a pipeline feeding it into the country, but for what purpose…” She shrugged, obviously intrigued.
    “You know,” said Chaison speculatively, “we were just talking about how frustrating it is to sit around here idle. So we’re going to move about the town a bit…make inquiries.”
    She shook her head. “We’re trying to keep you out of sight, not parade you in front of everybody.”
    “But for how long?” Chaison jabbed a thumb at the blank wall beyond which fog and water swirled. “As long as this weather lasts we can’t go anywhere. And believe me, we can be discreet. We just want something to do. I’m betting they need extra hands to fix the town’s rigging after today’s unexpected turn, right? I’ve rigged town-wheels. I’ll volunteer—”
    Again she shook her head. “It’s a good idea, but there’s an extra fly in the soup. The last ship in brought some sort of special investigative team. Secret policemen. Extra ones. You want to risk going out with them around? They may be here to find you.”
    Chaison didn’t like the fact that