Chapter 23 #2
Once through the main entry, he stopped short. He’d never seen so many adults and children in the covered courtyard before. Despite the comparative warmth of the space, they all wore winter gear and clustered around portable envirobots for warmth. The conversational din had sharp edges.
Crowds didn’t thrill him, but he’d take them over going back in the storm. He pulled back his snow hood and threaded through the throng toward the mealpack distribution area.
Kooga strode forward and stopped, fists on her hips, grinning at him. “Hah! This for sure be old home week, now I see you here, too.” Her fur-trimmed coat and shining eyes made her look like the cyborg queen that the kids sometimes called her. “Job end?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Changing, maybe.”
She nodded. “Eat, les’ they forget to feed you again.” Her glance flicked down to his left leg. “Sit, too. Nightfall coming.”
Apparently, he hadn’t hidden his limp as well as he’d hoped. He nodded his thanks as he grabbed a mealpack from the stack. The thought of food turned his stomach, but that always happened after an autodoc session.
He pulled a stool off the stack and placed it near the gravcart of empty mealpack crates, then perched on the edge and pushed his bag around to hang at his side. Even after months of physical therapy, he still didn’t like sitting, but his sore leg needed the rest.
He triggered the mealpack’s heater and rested it on his knees. A flicker from his cloak reminded him to turn off its camouflage feature. No sense advertising valuable gear to a room full of the destitute and desperate.
The fog that still twisted his brain was pissing him off.
The sense of being watched made him twitchy.
Twice already, he’d seen people he thought he knew but weren’t there when he looked again.
He’d probably be seeing Neirra Varemba’s ghost next.
Forcing himself to eat slowly so his stomach wouldn’t rebel, he glared at anyone who gave him more than a passing glance.
From his current location, his best bet to get to Novo G would be by public skytrain. No direct routes, but the skytrain’s semi-autonomous cars and elevated rails worked even when nothing else did.
He folded up the empty mealpack and took it to the overflowing recycling collector bin. Even if the crowd made proper cleaning impossible, at least he could take out the trash. On the way back from the janitor closet with two new bags, he ran into Kooga again.
“Mille mercis,” Kooga said with a grateful smile. “Between the cyclone bombe snow and the raids, no one want to leave, so they eat.” She pointed her chin toward the lump under his cloak. “Smart to bring your kit. None of us leaving tonight. Have to bring out crates from the back to make bunks.”
“I saw a raid burnout at the northeast district border,” Renner said. “Any idea what they want?”
“Non, but whatever it is, they want it bad enough to coordinate mil-ops with the police for timed assaults all over Ridderth.” She tapped her temple.
“The net says targets are veteran groups, just like five years ago, but this time, more, and the media district targets, too. Whole hex blocks burning.” Her head shook in disgust. “Imbéciles. Like that stop the news.”
Air pressure rose in his suddenly paralyzed chest. Novo Granica’s building was in the heart of the media district. He blew out a breath forcefully. “Right. I’ll put this out.”
Kooga nodded and went on her way toward the back.
His fear of the storm was a pinprick compared to his fear for Arco and her team. Standing in the comparative privacy of the hall, he powered his percomp and checked for new pings. One message from an hour ago, Arco’s voice only.
“Left early to avoid the fireworks. Check your local percomp for the address. I’ll wait for you.”
The coordinates turned out to be a launch gate at the Ridderth spaceport. He memorized them, then turned off the percomp. Instinct urged him toward the media district, but logic asserted itself. The message meant she was already on the way. His best shot at connecting with her was at the spaceport.
Out in the main room, he put an empty liner in the bin.
The feeling of being watched returned, but he didn’t have time to track it down.
He picked up the new discarded mealpacks that had appeared while he’d been emptying the bag.
Inspired, he opened the other liner bag and began working his way around the periphery, head down, scooping up recyclable trash.
As usual, people unconsciously stepped out of his way, just like they did for a cleaning bot.
Slowing as he got closer to the front doors, he kept an eye on them, waiting for his chance.
The universe granted him favor. Two snow-covered figures entered, pausing to stomp the snow off, right as a loud commotion in the courtyard captured their attention. He dropped the bag next to the wall and slipped through the still-open doors.
The snow had slacked off for the moment, but that wouldn’t last. He pulled on his snow hood, glad he hadn’t taken off his gloves, and headed out diagonally across the street. Easier going, since the road glass melted some of the snow from underneath, and no traffic to dodge, either.
The sooner he got to the skytrain platform, the better.
Fish shivered in her too-big coat, and not from cold. Violence was everywhere.
The tense mood in the Cyborg Queen’s lair pricked painfully against her sifter senses.
Twenty people in Soleil’s studio were barely tolerable.
More than a hundred made her eyes water from the effort to keep her talent contained.
And too many of them she recognized as coming from rival crews — Durango, Arganov, Bèishàng Liègou, even a few Wutala.