Nations controlled most of the prime beef-land, and though the federal government had culture tanks, the corps usually raided them for their dependents well before the government got its share. Wherever the beef went, it wasn't into the soy cakes they gave to the good, but poor, citizens of UCAS. The beef-soy they got for the widow's coupons might be okay nutrition-wise, but it tasted like ashes and there never was enough. Any meat the kids brought in would flavor and add more protein to the stew. If they'd had more SINs in the hall, they'd have more
food, but they didn't. Asa was the only one with a SIN, a system identification number, which she needed to get her government pension and the ration coupons. The disenfranchised, like Kham's family and the rest of the hall's residents, were not even entitled to that. They weren't in the computers: numbered, tagged, and ready to be processed. Without a nice corporate system identification number neither were they eligible for the government dole or even any of the corporate ones. They were outside the system, scraping up what they could to get by.
Sure they could buy meat in a store just like anybody else, if they had the money. Or they could go to the black market, where the meat was cheaper but you never knew how safe it was. The net result was that fresh meat was a luxury they couldn't afford except when somebody made a score or the kids brought something home from the alleys. Kham hadn't gotten a good look at what they were hunting, but he hoped it wasn't cat again. He hated the taste.
Thoughts of food made his stomach growl, reminding him that supper time was near. He sauntered on down the street, sniffing the air and checking the signs. There were no strange odors, no new marks of violence, no signs of alarm. His neighborhood was as quiet and as safe as it got. There were still some kids from the hall across the street playing around the wrecked or nearly wrecked vehicles that lined the sidewalk. Here in Orktown, there was no towing for the junkers or off-street parking for the workers. Everything was left until it rotted away, like the garbage. Like a lot of the orks in Orktown, Kham and the others called their communal house a hall. Word on the street was that the ancient Vikfhgs used to live all together in a hall, and everybody knew Vikings were tough; orks were tough, too. Calling their places halls made it a little easier to deal with the squalor, Kham supposed. If you couldn't live in a palace, at least you could pretend you did. Kham's hall was a run-down structure that had once been a store. His family and the half-dozen others of his home group lived there, bedding down in the upper stories and doing most of their day-to-day living in the lower story, which was mostly kitchen and open space.
As he turned off Wilkerson Boulevard, Kham could see that the hall was lit. A trio of young orks, all wearing Black Sword colors, waited idly near the front steps. Like the kids from the other halls in the neighborhood, kids from Kham's hall joined a gang when they were old enough, Or good enough. The gang provided local security, more reliable than the police, and halls that had kids in the gang didn't even have to pay for the service.
The biggest of the three, the obvious leader, straightened up when he saw Kham approaching. That was Guido, one of John Parker's brood. Guido was a shadowrunner wannabe, always trying to act like he thought a runner ought to.
'Hoi, Kham,' he said in a casually familiar drawl. ' 'Zappening?' 'Hoi, Guido.'
A little miffed by Kham's ignoring his question, Guido tried again. 'Got work?' 'Could be.'
Guido elbowed one of the others and gave him a conspiratorial wink. 'Better, or Lissa'll have your balls for breakfast.'
Kham was too tired to play games. His response caught Guido totally off-guard. The young ork made only a feeble, futile effort to block the paw that reached for his throat. Exerting a mere fraction of his strength, Kham lifted the boy off the ground. Guido struggled to take the pressure from his throat by keeping his balance on his toes. Kham smiled grimly into Guide's
purpling face and said, 'Watch out your balls aren't on the menu.'
'Hey, he didn't mean anything by it, Kham,' one of the others pleaded.
'Yeah,' the other chimed in. 'Everybody says that, ya know. Like it's not a secret.'
Giving them a squint-eyed stare, Kham said, 'Yeah? Well, if everybody knows, ya don't need ta say any ting about it.'
'Chill, man,' Guido choked out. 'I'm a sphinx.'
'Nah. Ain't good-looking enough,' Kham said, releasing the boy. 'Or tough enough.'
'Hey, man, I'm tough,' Guido whined, rubbing his throat. 'Take me on a run, I'll show you.'
Not if you can't take a little rough treatment. 'Gotta walk before ya can run, Guido.'
Recovering his former bravado, Guido straightened up and said, 'I'm ready. You got a job and need some more muscle, I'm the orkboy for you.'
Guide's quick recovery was a good sign. The boy was still a little young to move up, but he had talent. Maybe in a year or two. Kham decided to be encouraging. 'Could be. Keep hanging till I call ya.'
Kham walked up the steps, listening to the gibes of Guide's companions as they started in on the boy. They'd sort it out. If an ork couldn't survive his own gang, he didn't have any business looking to tackle anybody else.
As he stepped through the door, the familiar scent of ork and old food washed over him, blotting out the refuse scent of the street. The light was brighter than in the street, but not enough to bother him, nor was it enough to really illuminate the squalor. The main room, what had once been a show room, was littered with debris and randomly scattered piles of bedding, but, he was pleased to see, no garbage. The chamber was furnished in early junkyard; its broken-down chairs, stained and ripped couches, and tables of jumbled scraps gave it an air of bedraggled but comfy chaos. In one corner an unwatched monitor, the coils of its illegal cable hook-up snarled around its base, blared out the latest video from Maria Mercurial, courtesy of one of the music channels.
Someday, he promised himself. Someday they wouldn't have1 to live here.
He could hear shouts from the kitchen. Teresa was calling one of the kids down for snitching from the pot. Almost immediately a knot of kids came brawling through the archway. Catching sight of him, one of them shouted, 'Kham's back!' As the brawl tumbled past him and into the stairway hall a small missile launched itself out of the melee. Kham caught the hurtling ork child, his oldest son Tully, and pivoted in place, swinging Tully at arm's-length. The child squealed in delight.
Twice more around, then he tossed Tully high, catching him under the arms and lowering him to the floor. 'More!' the child yelled. Kham complied, as always. Out the corner of his eye, he could see Shan-dra, Tully's littermate, staring from the doorway. Setting Tully down and tousling his hair to stifle his cries of 'More!', Kham spoke to his daughter. 'Hello, Shandy.'
'Hello, daddy.'
Crouching closer to her height, he said, 'Come give me a hug.'
Shandra hugged herself and shook her head.
It was the way she was most of the time now. He hoped it was just a phase. He straightened and took off his jacket, hanging it on a peg and slinging his weapon belt over it. He held his arms out to his daughter. 'Come to daddy.' She remained where she was, staring. He followed her gaze, dropping his eyes to his artificial hand. The chrome gleamed softly in the low light, a shiny ghost of the flesh that had been. He took a step toward her and she bolted back to the kitchen.
'You don't need her, Daddy,' Tully said, affixing himself to Kham's leg.
Kham scooped him up. The boy gave his father a squeeze around the neck, then settled back to nestle in the strong sweep of Kham's arm. Tully reached out a hand and ran it along the smooth plastic of the flesh-metal interface and down over the rigid alloy of Kham's hand. 'It's hard, Dad. Like you.'
'Ya gonna be hard when yer big, Tully?'
'Uh-huh.'
'That's my boy,' Kham said, with a delighted smile.
Kham heard familiar footsteps approaching. Lissa. He turned to face her. She was as beautiful as ever, if a bit tousled from her work in the kitchen. Her tusks, | delicate and fine, gleamed like old ivory. They showed j particularly clear when she was frowning, which she J was now. She stopped about a meter away and put one | hand on her hip while the other unconsciously ca- I ressed Shandra's head. Clinging to her mother's leg, • the girl sobbed softly. Lissa said some quiet words to -her before looking at Kham. |
'About time.' '
'Had a meet.'
She looked at him for a moment, then bent down and whispered to Shandra. The girl nodded her head and
