Dark Space: Avilon (51 page)

Ethan nodded, half draining his mug before setting it down again. “Most people don’t pay attention to details like that, much less remember them.”

“I’m not most people,” she said, still smiling.

Ethan eyed her carefully. “I don’t remember you.”

She shrugged. “I have a good memory.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?” he said.

“I got bored of eternity. You?”

He smirked at her. “Don’t you think I’m too old to have dipped my feet into Omnius’s fountain of youth?”

“Old yes, ugly no. You’re quite easy on the eyes, Ethan. Maybe you’re just making yourself
look
old so you won’t attract too much attention.”

He waggled his ring at her again. “Careful there, girly.”

“I’m a bit too old for you to be calling me, girly.”

“Yeah? Well, you don’t look it.”

“Not many people do these days.”

“Omnius does like to turn everything upside down, doesn’t he? Old becomes young, ugly becomes pretty, and wrong becomes right.”

“You’re not a fan.”

“You’re a Null so obviously neither are you.”

She leaned conspiratorially close and whispered. “So what are you doing about that? Sitting at a bar, drowning your sorrows with cheap ale? Sounds like you’ve given up.”

“I’m tired of fighting. First the Sythians, and now this krak? Frek it. I’ll just be happy if I die of natural causes.”

“I don’t believe that. When you’re done with that drink of yours maybe you’d like to join me in my car and I can drive
you
around for a change. We can discuss ways that you could better live your life, rather than sit around here talking about ways that it might end.”

Ethan cracked a lopsided smile and shook his head. “Nice of you to offer, but I don’t think you want to see my wife when she’s angry.” He drained his mug and hopped off his barstool.

The young woman grabbed his arm in a surprisingly firm grip, stopping him before he left.

Ethan eyed her hand. “Let go.”

“No.”

“Let go, or I’ll break it.”

She let go and treated him to another pretty laugh. This time there was a brittle edge to it. “You really are a piece of work, Ethan,” she said.

“Said the woman hitting on a married man.”

“Relax. I’m not trying to get inside your pants. I’m trying to
help
you.”

“Really. How’s that?”

She nodded sideways, indicating a corner booth in the bar. A pair of young men were sitting there, sipping cheap ales, and eyeing
him
. When they noticed him glancing their way, they averted their eyes and pretended to study the depths of their drinks.

“I think they overheard how much money you’re carrying on that cred chip.”

“They’re skinny as frek. I might actually enjoy the chance to take my frustrations out on something other than my pillow.”

“You might want to look again, Ethan. See the way they’ve shaved their eyebrows?”

“They’re a dozen meters away, and you’re asking if I can see their
eyebrows?
”

“They don’t have any. That means they’re
White Skulls.
Below level 10 the
Grunge
is
their
territory, Ethan. They’ll rob you, stab you, shoot you, and drop you down a garbage chute before you can even throw the first punch.”

Ethan snorted and patted his sidearm. “They’re welcome to try.”

“That’s Peacekeeper issue, isn’t it? They gave it to you when you came down here. You ever try to use it?”

“Why?” he asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Nothing, just that I hope you’re a good shot. It’s only good for two. Suppose they have a friend waiting in an alley?”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Ethan left, not bothering to leave a tip at all this time. There was something unsettling about that young woman’s turquoise eyes. He could have sworn he’d seen her somewhere before, but then again, she knew him from his cab, so he supposed it wouldn’t be too strange if he recognized her, too. It was hard to miss a face like hers.

By the time Ethan reached sub level four of the parking garage, he became acutely aware of just how far he’d parked from the nearest entrance. His hand drifted to his sidearm and remained there, resting on the butt as he glanced around, his eyes wide and darting through the shadows. He wondered if that young woman had just been messing with him, or if his sidearm really was next to useless. . . .

It took him a few minutes just to catch sight of his car. Then came a sudden
crunch
of gravel, and two young men melted out of the shadows. They weren’t the two he’d seen in the bar on level 25, but they didn’t have any eyebrows.
White skulls.
The ones in the bar had been spotters, and these two were their accomplices.

Ethan drew his sidearm.

One of them laughed and spread his arms wide, presenting his chest as an open target. “Go ahead! Shoot!”

Ethan pulled the trigger and a dazzling blue-white bolt of light zapped out, hitting the young thug in the chest. He sunk to his knees, grinning and shuddering with involuntary muscle spasms. Behind him, his partner in crime likewise opened fire, and Ethan got to appreciate firsthand just how hard it was to resist a stun blast. He wasn’t grinning. His legs turned to jelly and he flopped backward and fluttered around like a fish out of water. He lay gasping and blinking up at the shadowy gray ceiling of the parking garage.

As the spasms began to fade, two pale faces sans-eyebrows appeared looming over him. One of them hefted a much bulkier version of the pistol Ethan wore and pressed the barrel to his temple. The other one raised a finger to his lips and grinned. He was the one Ethan had stunned.

How the frek did he get up so fast?
Ethan’s own muscles were still immobilized, his brain screaming for them to respond.

The should-have-been-stunned thug’s blue eyes were bright and wild, full of a frightening energy. He was high as krak, blissed out of his mind. No wonder he’d been able to resist the stun blast.

Ethan felt the young man go rummaging through his jacket pockets, looking for his credit chip. Feeling came back to his hands and feet with stabbing prickles, but with a gun to his head, Ethan didn’t like his chances of turning this around. Blue Eyes found his cred chip and dangled it in front of Ethan’s face. “What’s yer pin, stupid?” he asked.

Ethan blinked at him and smacked his lips like a guppy, pretending he still couldn’t speak.

“You got a wife waitin’ for ya, don’t be stupid, man. I’m gonna count to three.”

Ethan gave up the pin on
two
. Blue Eyes smiled and plugged his credit chip into a portable scanner. He noted that another chip was plugged in the other end. The scanner was probably stolen and untraceable. Not to mention that if the
White Skulls
ran
The Grunge,
even local enforcers wouldn’t follow up on his report. Ethan watched helplessly as they stole a whole day of his life. He may as well have stayed in bed and slept.

“Pleasure doin’ business with ya,” Blue Eyes said, patting him on the shoulder. Before he went, he withdrew a small packet of a white sparkling silver powder, each granule looking like a tiny metallic ball. Before he realized what was happening, the thug forced his mouth open and emptied the contents of the packet. Ethan tried to spit it out, but the young man held his mouth shut.

“Now, now. That’s the good stuff. You don’t want to waste that.”

The silver powder fizzed and burned inside his mouth, leaving a tangy, metallic aftertaste on the back of his tongue. Mere seconds later he felt feeling return to his limbs, his muscles and nerves singing with fire. His mind cleared and his fatigue washed away with a surge of energy. He felt revitalized, stronger than ever. His hands balled into fists and his pulse beat in his ears like a drum.

“Krakkin’ rush, right? That’s on the house, old man. You want more, you go to Silver Burroughs, East Grunge. Tell the sentry you’re going to see Krillix and Scag; they’ll point the way. Don’t take krak from no other Skulls on your way down. See you soon, krakhead.”

He stole Ethan’s sidearm and ran off, cackling with glee. The other one retreated more slowly, keeping his sidearm trained on Ethan as he left. Ethan glared murder at him, wondering whether he was Krillix or Scag. When both goons had disappeared into the shadows once more, Ethan peeled himself off the bactcrete floor. His nerves felt like they were all on fire, and his head was pounding with a headache that was more deserving of twenty pints than the one he’d drunk. He stood up and whirled around in a dizzy circle, looking for his cab. Ethan realized that now he could see just fine in the poorly-lit garage. Details that he’d missed before came clear—hairline fractures in the pavement, stress fractures in the ceiling, water trickling from a leaky pipe and dripping to the floor in a shadowy corner. . . .

His senses were alive and buzzing like he’d never felt them before, and despite that, he felt incredibly relaxed—collected and calm. All side effects of the dose of Bliss he’d just been forced to take.

Ethan started toward his cab, rifling through his pockets, looking for the car’s ignition stick. Then he realized that
all
his pockets were empty. He blinked, stopping beside the cab. They hadn’t tried to steal the car, so why steal the ignition? Ethan let out a roar of frustration and kicked the driver’s door.

His comm piece trilled. Reaching up, he answered, “Hello?”

“Ethan . . . Are you close?” Alara was panting.

“What’s wrong?”

“My water broke.”

Ethan stood eyeing the locked door of his cab, his mind and heart racing. “What? Are you sure?”

“Yes. We’re going to have to buy some new sheets.”

“Never mind that. I’ll . . . I’ll be right there, okay?”

“You sure? I can take an ambulance.”

Ethan tried to imagine how much an ambulance ride would cost, and then he remembered the woman at the bar and her offer to take him for a ride in
her
car. “I’m sure. I’ll be right there, okay? Wait for me.”

“Ok—aaay!” she screamed.

“What was that?” he asked, adrenaline screaming through him in addition to the Bliss and all the stims.

“A contraction, Ethan! Hurry up and get over here!”

“Right. See you soon, Kiddie.”

Ethan ran all the way back to the lifts. When he emerged in the bar once more, he scanned the room quickly, anxiously.

It took just a moment to find her. She was sitting right where she’d been when he’d left, still sipping her glowing green cocktail.

Ethan ran up to her, breathless, and gestured helplessly to his empty holster; then to the pair of
White Skulls
still sitting in a corner booth, nursing cheap ales. He recovered his stamina quickly, thanks to the Bliss, and he had to force himself to focus in order to ignore the assault on his senses—he could see the peeling paint in the darkest corner of the bar; he could hear himself blink; he could even hear what the White Skulls were whispering to each other in their corner booth—

“. . . looks edgy. He must be high. Guess they got him.”

“So what’s he doin’ back here?”

Ethan ignored them.

The young woman sitting at the bar watched him with her bright turquoise eyes. She regarded him with a frown. He found he could actually
hear
her pulse. “I tried to warn you,” she said.

“My wife’s going into labor. They stole my cab’s ignition. You mentioned something about a ride?”

The young woman came to her feet in an instant. “Let’s go.” On her way out, she snapped her fingers at a young, handsome man sitting alone in one of the booths. He joined them, and Ethan eyed that man suspiciously, wondering if this was some kind of setup.

“Relax. He’s my driver.”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “You have a driver?”

“And a penthouse. What’s your point?”

Clearly she wasn’t after a sugar daddy, but that wasn’t what had him narrowing his eyes. “You said you rode in my cab.”

“He’s a recent hire.”

“I see.”

They walked out of the bar and rode the lift tubes
up
rather than down. On level 30 they entered another level of parking, this one much different from the dingy sub-level where Ethan had left his cab. Level 30 parking was bright and airy, with color-coded piping for each section of the garage. They walked up to a six-door limousine with tinted black privacy windows and a glossy white hull. The limo’s grav lifts shimmered and
hummed
to life, lifting it half a meter off the ground before they even reached the doors. The driver remotely triggered those, too, and they slid open with a synchronized
swish,
revealing a plush beige interior.

Ethan climbed in after the young woman. The doors slid shut behind them.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“East Grunge, Fort Carlson, level nine, apartment 9G,” Ethan said.

“Got it.”

The limo raced out of its parking space, its driver deftly maneuvering through narrow lanes until they came to a pair of glowing blue openings, shielded from unauthorized entry. No doubt it cost a fortune to park up here. The opening on their side deactivated a split second before they would have collided with the shield, and they raced out into a busy street. The driver dodged and wove through traffic, making Ethan raise his eyebrows a few times. The pilot was
good
.

City streets raced by below them in a blur of life and color. Pedestrians were unafraid to walk the streets on level 25, even in the dead of night. Apartments and offices flashed by to either side of them. There were no bars on the windows this high up.

“Not so bad up here, is it?” the young woman sitting beside him asked.

“You said you have a penthouse?” he asked, turning to her.

She nodded. “That’s right.”

“What were you doing in my cab?”

“I told you—”

“Don’t insult my intelligence. I work most of my shifts below level 10. You have money. You don’t ever have to go that far down. And you don’t need to take a cab.”