Tales of Old Earth by Michael Swanwick Page B

emphasis, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “She’s had more than sufficient experience.”
    â€œNow hold on,” I said. “I can’t just—”
    â€œMissy doesn’t mind. Do you, little sweet?”
    The girl, wide-eyed, shook her head no.
    â€œWait for me here.” The lady leaned down and kissed her full on the mouth—full, and deep too. Nobody paid any mind. The festivities had reached that rowdy stage. “You come with me.”
    I didn’t have much choice but to follow.
    Her name, she said, was Jackie. And, when I’d introduced myself, “I’m going to help you, Malcolm.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œI have observed,” she said, “that other people are often willing to accept whatever events may chance to happen to them, rather than take an active part in their unfolding. That’s not me.” She glanced scornfully back at the casino car. “I am no gambler. All my pleasure lies in direct action. Tell me your problem. Make it interesting.”
    When I’d told my story, Jackie took the cigar out of her mouth and stared at it thoughtfully. “Your friend’s attention is currently given over entirely to the pursuit of money. Can’t you just go back to the baggage car now and look?”
    I shook my head. “Not with Sugar standing by the rear door.”
    We were in the space between the casino and the next car forward, with the rails flashing by underneath and the cars twisting and rattling about us. Jackie put a hand on the bottommost rung of the access ladder and said, “Then we’ll go over the roof.”
    â€œNow, just a minute!”
    â€œNo delays.” She frowned down at her skirt. “As soon as I can arrange a change of clothing.”
    Up the sleeper car she strode, opening doors, glancing within, slamming them shut again. Fifth one she tried, there was a skinny man in nothing but a white shirt working away on top of his lady-love. He looked up angrily. “Hey! What the fuck do you-”
    Jackie pressed her derringer against his forehead and nodded toward a neatly folded bundle of clothing. “May I?”
    The man froze. He couldn’t die here, but that didn’t mean he’d relish a bullet through his skull. “They’re yours.”
    â€œYou’re a gent.” Jackie scooped up the bundle. Just before closing the door, she paused and smiled down at the terrified face of the woman underneath her victim.
    â€œPray,” she said, “continue.”
    In the hallway she whipped off her skirt, stepped into the slacks, and zipped them up before I had the chance to look away. The jacket she tossed aside. She buttoned the vest over her blouse and tentatively tried on one of the man’s wing tips. “They fit!”
    I went up the rungs first. The wind was rushing over the top of the train something fierce. Gingerly, I began crawling across the roof of the casino car. I was scared out of my wits and making no fast progress, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked back.
    My heart about failed me. Jackie was standing straight up, oblivious to the furious rattling speed of the train. She reached down and hauled me to my feet. “Let’s dance!” she shouted into my ear.
    â€œWhat?” I shouted back, disbelieving. The wind buffeted us wildly. It whipped off Jackie’s bowler hat and sent it tumbling away. She laughed.
    â€œ Dance! You’ve heard of dancing, haven’t you?”
    Without waiting for a reply, she seized me by the waist and whirled me around, and we were dancing. She led and I followed, fearful that the least misstep would tumble us from the train and land us broken and lost in the marshes of Styx. It was the single most frightening and exhilarating experience of my entire existence, moreso even than my first time with that traveling man out by the gravel quarry at the edge of town.
    I was so frightened by now that