it again. MESSAGE NOT SENT . A third time. MESSAGE NOT SENT . A fourth. MESSAGE NOT SENT . She ran a troubleshooting program, and then sent the message again. MESSAGE NOT SENT.
And again. And again. And again.
MESSAGE NOT SENT .
MESSAGE NOT SENT .
MESSAGE NOT SENT .
Until the suspicion was so strong she
had
to check.
There was an inspection camera on the back of her suit’s left hand. She held it up so she could examine the side of her helmet.
MacArthur had broken off the uplink antenna.
“You jerk!” She was really angry now. “You shithead! You cretin! You retard! You’re nuts, you know that? Crazy. Totally whack.”
No answer.
The bastard was ignoring her. He probably had his suit on auto-follow. He was probably leaning back in his harness, reading a book or watching an old movie on his visor. Mac Arthur did that a lot. You’d ask him a question and he wouldn’t answer because he wasn’t there; he was sitting front row center in the theater of his cerebellum. He probably had a tracking algorithm in the navigation system to warn him if she turned to the north or south, or started to get too far ahead of him.
Let’s test that hypothesis.
She’d used the tracking algorithm often enough that she knew its specs by heart. One step sidewards in five would register immediately. One in six would not. All right, then…let’s see if we can get this rig turned around slowly, subtly, toward the road. She took seven strides forward, and then half-step to the side.
LASER HAZARD
Patang hastily switched on auto-walk. So that settled that. He was watching her every step. A tracking algorithm would have written that off as a stumble. But then why didn’t he speak? To make her suffer, obviously. He must be bubbling over with things to say. He must hate her almost as much as she did him.
“You son of a bitch! I’m going to
get
you, MacArthur! I’m going to turn the goddamned tables on you, and when I do —!”
It wasn’t as if she were totally helpless. She had explosives. Hell, her muscle suit could throw a rock with enough energy to smash a hole right through his suit. She could —
Blankness.
She came to with the suit auto-walking down the far slope of the first wrinkle ridge. There was a buzzing in her ear. Somebody talking. MacArthur, over the short-range radio. “What?” she asked blurrily. “Were you saying something, MacArthur? I didn’t quite catch that.”
“You had a bad thought, didn’t you?” MacArthur said gleefully. “Naughty girl! Papa spank.”
LASER HAZARD
LASER HAZARD
Arrows pointed to either side. She’d been walking straight Noon-ward, and he’d fired on her anyway.
“Damn it, that’s not
fair!
”
“Fair! Was it fair, the things you said to me? Talking. All the time talking.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“You did! Those things…the things you said…unforgivable!”
“I was only deviling you, MacArthur,” she said placatingly. It was a word from her childhood; it meant teasing, the kind of teasing a sister inflicted on a brother. “I wouldn’t do it if we weren’t friends.”
MacArthur made a noise he might have thought was laughter. “Believe me, Patang, you and I are not friends.”
The deviling had been innocent enough at the start. She’d only done it to pass the time. At what point had it passed over the edge? She hadn’t always hated MacArthur. Back in Port Ishtar, he’d seemed like a pleasant companion. She’d even thought he was cute.
It hurt to think about Port Ishtar, but she couldn’t help herself. It was like trying not to think about Heaven when you were roasting in Hell.
Okay, so Port Ishtar wasn’t perfect. You ate flavored algae and you slept on a shelf. During the day you wore silk, because it was cheap, and you went everywhere barefoot because shoes cost money. But there were fountains that sprayed water into the air. There was live music in the restaurants, string quartets playing to the big winners, prospectors who
And again. And again. And again.
MESSAGE NOT SENT .
MESSAGE NOT SENT .
MESSAGE NOT SENT .
Until the suspicion was so strong she
had
to check.
There was an inspection camera on the back of her suit’s left hand. She held it up so she could examine the side of her helmet.
MacArthur had broken off the uplink antenna.
“You jerk!” She was really angry now. “You shithead! You cretin! You retard! You’re nuts, you know that? Crazy. Totally whack.”
No answer.
The bastard was ignoring her. He probably had his suit on auto-follow. He was probably leaning back in his harness, reading a book or watching an old movie on his visor. Mac Arthur did that a lot. You’d ask him a question and he wouldn’t answer because he wasn’t there; he was sitting front row center in the theater of his cerebellum. He probably had a tracking algorithm in the navigation system to warn him if she turned to the north or south, or started to get too far ahead of him.
Let’s test that hypothesis.
She’d used the tracking algorithm often enough that she knew its specs by heart. One step sidewards in five would register immediately. One in six would not. All right, then…let’s see if we can get this rig turned around slowly, subtly, toward the road. She took seven strides forward, and then half-step to the side.
LASER HAZARD
Patang hastily switched on auto-walk. So that settled that. He was watching her every step. A tracking algorithm would have written that off as a stumble. But then why didn’t he speak? To make her suffer, obviously. He must be bubbling over with things to say. He must hate her almost as much as she did him.
“You son of a bitch! I’m going to
get
you, MacArthur! I’m going to turn the goddamned tables on you, and when I do —!”
It wasn’t as if she were totally helpless. She had explosives. Hell, her muscle suit could throw a rock with enough energy to smash a hole right through his suit. She could —
Blankness.
She came to with the suit auto-walking down the far slope of the first wrinkle ridge. There was a buzzing in her ear. Somebody talking. MacArthur, over the short-range radio. “What?” she asked blurrily. “Were you saying something, MacArthur? I didn’t quite catch that.”
“You had a bad thought, didn’t you?” MacArthur said gleefully. “Naughty girl! Papa spank.”
LASER HAZARD
LASER HAZARD
Arrows pointed to either side. She’d been walking straight Noon-ward, and he’d fired on her anyway.
“Damn it, that’s not
fair!
”
“Fair! Was it fair, the things you said to me? Talking. All the time talking.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“You did! Those things…the things you said…unforgivable!”
“I was only deviling you, MacArthur,” she said placatingly. It was a word from her childhood; it meant teasing, the kind of teasing a sister inflicted on a brother. “I wouldn’t do it if we weren’t friends.”
MacArthur made a noise he might have thought was laughter. “Believe me, Patang, you and I are not friends.”
The deviling had been innocent enough at the start. She’d only done it to pass the time. At what point had it passed over the edge? She hadn’t always hated MacArthur. Back in Port Ishtar, he’d seemed like a pleasant companion. She’d even thought he was cute.
It hurt to think about Port Ishtar, but she couldn’t help herself. It was like trying not to think about Heaven when you were roasting in Hell.
Okay, so Port Ishtar wasn’t perfect. You ate flavored algae and you slept on a shelf. During the day you wore silk, because it was cheap, and you went everywhere barefoot because shoes cost money. But there were fountains that sprayed water into the air. There was live music in the restaurants, string quartets playing to the big winners, prospectors who
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