life out then intolerable.'

The bureaucrat's mouth twisted into a sneer. 'Are you telling me that the notorious DNA Cowboys are refugees?'

The Minstrel Boy regarded him coldly. If they were going to have to put up with so much nonsense about the 'notorious DNA Cowboys,' they might as well make use of it. He drew himself up to his full height, assumed the expression of a big time desperado, and started to enunciate very carefully.

'Of course we're not refugees. We're moving on, and we decided that we'd pass through Krystaleit. We like it in Krystaleit. We have friends here. We've always kept our noses clean and we're far from indigent, so are you going to let us pass, or do we have to move on and find a place that may not be quite so celebrated but does know how to extend its hospitality to travelers?'

As he stared at the bureaucrat, the man started to wilt just a little. Perhaps it had occurred to him that if these guys were carrying such a heavyweight reputation around with them, they might just have done one or two things to deserve it. He was not, however, about to cave in completely.

'I have to be assured that you are not fifth columnists working for some warlord. There are all kinds of potential hostiles streaming into the city, and it's my job to keep down those numbers. God knows that it's difficult enough in normal times, what with Nulites blowing things up and these fools discorporating all over the place. In a situation like this it becomes impossible. These damn raiders are becoming organized, and if they attack us with half an army already inside the city, we'd be hard pressed to defend ourselves.'

The bureaucrat was almost defending himself. The Minstrel Boy sensed that they had him on the ropes. Reave came in with his own argument.

'Perhaps we could do a deal that would set your mind at rest.'

'A deal?'

Reave laughed. 'Sure, a deal. Why not? Isn't this Krystaleit? Aren't you guys the masters of deal cutting?'

What Reave had said was perfectly true. The people of Krystaleit prided themselves on their powers of negotiation. The bureaucrat appeared to be no exception. He stroked his chin. 'What kind of deal did you have in mind?'

'Suppose you structured something like this. We agree, say, under penalty of personal foreclosure, that in the event of an attack by any combination of warlords, we will enlist as irregulars in the defense of the city. In return for this, we'd be credited as a triad of master warriors and given free access.'

The bureaucrat thought about the proposal. 'What you're saying is that the city should buy your loyalty.'

'Not buy it, only take out a credit future on our skills. The problem only arises if there's an attack. Seems to me that you could use a few of the likes of us around.'

'It's still a matter of us trusting you.'

Reave started to get a little impatient. 'Look, the worst that you've accused us of is being mercenaries, and if we do this deal, you'd have a contractual lien on us. We'd be fools to renege on that.'

The bureaucrat looked at the Datron. 'Please evaluate.'

The Datron blinked twice. Its eyes still streamed with tears. 'The logic of the transaction is sound.'

'Would you codify it for us, please?'

'Gladly.'

The sorting out of the details took close to an hour. The Datron spelled out the specifics, and Reave, the Minstrel Boy, and the bureaucrat argued about them. Apart from the numbers, the only real sticking point was the insistence by the bureaucrat and the Datron that the Saab be impounded by the city for the DNA Cowboys' stay. Reave finally had to give in.

The bureaucrat looked to the Datron for the final figures. 'Please give their agreed credit levels.'

'The triad known as the DNA Cowboys have a level 0-34789-0. The woman calling herself Renatta de Luxe has a level of 0-211-0.'

The Krystaleit numerical system was a little strange.

The bureaucrat handed them their crys. They were microthin crystal disks in ceramic cases that carried the constantly updated record of their owners' financial status. They could be used in the transaction units throughout the city and totally superseded money. The DNA Cowboys reclaimed their weapons and then headed out for the interior of the city. Reave and the Minstrel Boy were jubilant.

'I think we actually stuck it to them.'

'It's a great credit base.'

'Pity about the battlewagon, though.'

'That couldn't be helped.'

Billy was a lot less happy. 'We also enlisted in their goddamn army. Is that sticking it to them?'

The Minstrel Boy dismissed his complaints with a wave. 'Only if the city's attacked. Do you really see even a bunch of warlords trying to tackle a place this size?'

Reave grinned. 'If they do, we can always desert. We've done that before.'

The Minstrel Boy looked around at Billy. 'Besides, you almost stuck us with that trick with the needler. Did you think they wouldn't have an m/d scanner?'

Billy glared and said nothing.

Renatta also had a beef. 'How come my credit is so much smaller than yours?'

'You're an unknown quantity with no declared skills. You've only been given a minimum flesh value.'

'Oh, great. That's wonderful. I'm minimum flesh.'

The Minstrel Boy put an arm around her. 'Don't worry about it. We'll push you some credit across so you don't hit the zero.'

'What am I, a charity case?'

The bickering stopped immediately as they came out of the access tube and had their first look at the heart of the city. Even Billy could not help but be awed by its shining grandeur.

'Just look at those lights.'

It was almost as though the city had been created from light and the levels of the physical structure were only a subordinate afterthought. Night and day were history, replaced by a ballet of massed luminance. There appeared to be a million of them, and optical tricks made it seem as if they went on to black infinity. Some pulsed, others shone steadily, and more danced in a complexity of designs. Projected images appeared on the facets of glittering diamonds. There was free leaping static, and an enclosed, cold fury of tall plasma towers soared through dozens of levels. To the Minstrel Boy, the splendor of Krystaleit was an energy net that he could easily imagine having some purpose of its own, way beyond just the visual gratification of mere mortals. Indeed, that could even have been the truth. At a number of points throughout the city, there were big and incredibly ancient power devices. Although their true function was lost in the mist of time, they still ran and were maintained solely for the silent sheets of contorted radiance that leaked from their interiors and cascaded through the spaces between levels. Many of them must have contained their own intelligences, unimaginable, deathless entities that passed the centuries contemplating chill abstractions and keeping vigil for god masters who had been slaughtered in the voids between distant stars.

To the newcomer, the most alien thing about Krystaleit was the way it so absolutely occupied three- dimensional space. Genetic memory balked at its sheer drops and the yawning chasms between structures. Even the old hands had to remind their ingrained fear of falling that gravity spirals in the open spaces would slide them to a safe, if bone-jarring, landing. Billy Oblivion pointed up the feeling by leaning over the unrailed side of the platform on which the four of them were standing and peering down at the apparently endless drop.

'I swear this place was built for birds.'

'Do you ever stop complaining?'

'I'll get around to it one day.'

Krystaleit offered a variety of methods for transporting humans and their goods from one level to the next. The crudest was the blowtube, which could shoot an individual or containerthrough many levels in a matter of seconds. The filament escalators and the more substantial peoplemovers, which angled between the buildings and platforms, offered a more sedate ride. The daring strapped on tiny dorsal rockets, miniature versions of Jet Ace's big thruster, while the wealthy owned their own flying cars, anything from a four- to twenty-eight-seater. By far the most comfortable means, open to everyone, was the float egg. The float egg was exactly what it sounded like, a

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