seeing straight through whatever they looked at. He stood and held out his hand. He wore khakis and was very fit.
“Mr. Maxon…Ms. Casad…welcome to my home.”
“Thank you,” I replied. “We appreciate your help.”
I heard a thumping sound and turned to see what had caused it. Two rubber-suited children hung outside the window waving and making faces through their masks.
“It’s the twins,” Mr. Murphy said apologetically. “They love to show off.”
Sasha said, “You have a wonderful family,” and seemed to mean it.
“Thank you. We have six boys and five girls, which is ten more than the corpies would allow us to have topside, and about eight more than we planned. But the Murphys are a passionate lot and not always given to practicality. Please, be seated. Would you like something to eat? To drink?”
My stomach rumbled, and I realized that it had been a long time since the pizza. Sasha looked interested as well. “Something to eat would be nice, if it isn’t too much trouble.”
Mr. Murphy settled back in his chair. “No trouble at all. Maureen? Would you be so kind?”
The woman who had introduced herself as “Murphy” nodded and headed upstairs.
“So,” Mr. Murphy said comfortably. “Maureen tells me that you have a boat for sale.”
I nodded, but Sasha answered. “Yes, we do. And a rather nice one at that.”
Mr. Murphy grinned and countered with a position of his own. “Boats are supposed to float. Yours would sink if the pumps failed.”
Sasha shrugged. “Holes can be plugged, and besides, it’s the engine you’re after anyway.”
Now this was a revelation to me, but it made a weird sort of sense, since hulls are a lot easier to fabricate than high-tech engines. Sasha had known that from the start, while I had taken the situation at face value.
Negotiations went on for some time, with points being scored on both sides, as the dollar spread gradually narrowed. I ignored the conversation for the most part, content to devote most of my attention to the soy-steak sandwiches Maureen had delivered, and the pot of scalding hot coffee. I knew a deal had been struck when both parties stood and shook hands. Mr. Murphy spoke first. “You’re a tough negotiator, Ms. Casad. Who taught you to slice a deal that thin?”
Sasha grinned. “Dear old Mom. I had to write a business case in order to get seconds at dinner.”
Mr. Murphy nodded approvingly. “Start ’em early, that’s what I say. How do you want your money?”
The words seemed to pop out of my mouth. I was as surprised as they were. “Cash mostly, but we could use some clothes, and a pair of space-certified weapons.”
If Mr. Murphy thought my request unusual, he gave no sign of it. He nodded understandingly. “You’d never make it past security with regular firearms, and you’d be crazy to use them even if you could. Some of those habitats are surprisingly thin-skinned. Maureen…take a look in the armory. A pair of Browning.9mm flechette guns might meet their needs.”
We made small talk until Maureen returned with two plastic cases. She handed one to each of us. I thumbed mine open, pried the weapon from its nest, and looked it over. It had all the latest enhancements, including some carefully placed weights to add heft in normal gravity situations, an over-sized safety to accommodate gloved hands, a thirty-round magazine, a ninety-round gas reservoir, and a flat black nonreflective finish. The box included thirty rounds of ammo, fifteen standard or “killer” rounds, and fifteen injector or “drug” rounds. I tried to remember when and where I’d learned those names, but couldn’t.
“So what do you think?”
I looked Mr. Murphy in the eye. “We’ll take ’em. We’ll need shoulder holsters, four spare magazines, and a thousand rounds of ammo. Half killer and half drug. And some clothes. Two outfits apiece and a bag to tote them in.”
Yeah, I had some clothes stashed in the sleeping compartment on Level 37 of the Sea-Tac Urboplex, but I wasn’t likely to see them again.
The other man raised an eyebrow. He looked at Sasha. “That’ll drop your cash down to $4,000.00.”
Four thousand dollars? The girl was amazing!
Sasha looked at me and nodded. “If Max says we need that stuff, then we need it.”
I felt warm all over, like a puppy that had been patted on its head, and grinned like an idiot.
The rest went quickly. We changed into one set of new clothes, stowed our weapons in their holsters, loaded the spare magazines, and stashed them in the pouches provided for that purpose. My shirt, jacket, and pants were black, as were my shoes. We were just about to leave when Sasha pointed at my head. “That skull plate is visible from miles away. You should cover it with something.”
She had a point. The Murphys had agreed to escort us as far as the surface, but that was the extent of their protection. We’d be on our own after that, with who knows how many poppers and rent-a-cops hot on our trail. So a ball cap, with the word “Captain” spelled out in gold letters, and scrambled eggs across the bill, served to complete my outfit. I didn’t see the money, but Sasha assured me that it was secured around her waist in a money belt.
And so it was that we took leave of Floater Town, headed up towards the stars, and a future that neither one of us could be sure of.
6
“Why pay for frills when FENA flies for less?”
The tag line from FENA Air’s Urban Graffiti c paign
We were on Level 45 when Maureen handed us over to a runaway android named Rita and waved good-bye. I hated to part company with her, but understood why she couldn’t accompany us. There was a rather large bounty on her head and plenty of poppers looking to collect it.
Rita, for reasons known only to her manufacturer, had been equipped with four arms. She used them to good effect, pulling herself up the access ladder with monkeylike agility and babbling all the way. “…And that’s why they built the siphon, to provide the spaceport with water, which it needs for a multiplicity of purposes…”
I tuned her out, stopped for a moment, and looked down. I’ve never had trouble with heights, which is a good thing, because it was quite a drop to Level 50. Yeah, there were platforms at each level, but you could see through the steel mesh all the way to the bottom.
Sasha was fifteen or twenty rungs below me, moving with the quick, easy confidence of someone raised with the void all around, our knapsack bouncing on her back. I had offered to carry it, but she had refused.
“Hey!” Rita called. “I haven’t got all day…let’s get a move on down there.”
I forced myself up again. We had managed a three-hour nap, but my body ached for a full night’s sleep. The siphon consisted of a vertical pipe that was five or six feet across and painted the lime-green color that bureaucrats always choose. The structure vibrated next to my shoulder as vast quantities of sea water were pumped to the surface, desalinized, and purified. Or so they claimed, but, as anyone whoever drank the stuff can attest, it tastes like shit.
Beads of water condensed on the pipe’s surface, coalesced into puddles, and streaked down towards the sea. I wondered if they had individual identities, and if so, whether I had swallowed them years before.
The climb went on and on, until my legs ached, and my back was sticky with sweat. I wanted to stop, wanted to rest, but Rita was tireless. Having explained the siphon, and the desalinization plant up above, she had transitioned into the story of her life.
“…exactly why, but it might have been a faulty component, or some sort of power surge. But whatever the reason, I went bonkers, left the job, and never returned. Sure, the android hunters came looking for me, but I made my way to Floater Town and went to work for Murphy Enterprises…”
A low-grade utility bot was doing some routine maintenance work on Level 2, but we crowded past and continued the journey upwards. The top landing was more spacious than all the rest. I heaved myself onto it, gave a sigh of relief, and looked around. I saw a hoist, some over-sized valves, and a maze of pipes. Sasha appeared over the edge, pulled herself inwards, and stood panting on the platform. It did my heart good to see she was tired as well.
