Freehold (6 page)

"This makes me a Citizen? Resident, I mean."

"It makes you an independent resident, legally an adult. Read it over, it means exactly what it says."

She glanced over the words, nodded, then took a deep breath and stood at attention. She recited from the card, "I, Kendra Anne Pacelli, before witness, declare myself an adult, responsible for my actions, and able to enter contract. I accept my debts and duties as a Resident of the Freehold of Grainne." Shifting slightly, she finished, "So help me God," and crossed herself.

"Done without pomp and speeches. Very well said," Hernandez acknowledged, "and congratulations. Now. Please be aware that if you desert your contract, a bounty can be placed on you. Once brought in, you would be required to pay the bounty and interest and finish your contract with a prisoner's transceiver that won't let you through any 'port security. I don't think you're the type to need that warning, but you should be aware of it." Kendra shuddered at the thought of wearing such a thing while working as an "exotic hostess," or whatever they called the job at the smut club. She still wasn't over that.

Kendra nodded, turned as Patty took her hand and congratulated her before leaving.

"Well, that's it, then," Hernandez told her. "Here's your Residency ID plate, a credchit from First Planetary and a cash advance. If you wish to change accounts, feel free." He handed her items and adminwork. "This is your contract and the code to your apartment. Address is here," he indicated a scrawl on a map, "And this is the park garage. You need to be there Rowanday at three. It's the weekend, so you have three days to look around. This is my home code, if you have an emergency. Your place and the garage are both walking distance, so that'll save you on transport." He handed her another print, saying, "Here's a calendar for the next month, with your schedule marked. Any questions at the moment?"

She hesitated, still amazed at the speed with which things were happening. "No," she replied cautiously, "I think I understand." She was grateful he was such a professional. What a place of contrasts.

"Good," Hernandez smiled. "Do call if there's a problem. Good luck," he finished, bowing briefly.

She returned the gesture as Patty showed her out. She retrieved her bag from the receptionist's office and left.

"And if a stranger sojourn with thee in your land,
ye shall not vex him
But the stranger that dwelleth with you shall be
unto you as one born among you . . ."

—Leviticus 19:33-34

Her height was the first thing Robert McKay noticed; followed by the fact that she was an offworlder. Her skin was too pale, she was sweating profusely, and she lugged frustratedly at a travelbag that couldn't mass as much as her effort suggested. He quickened his pace, passed her and asked, "Can I give you a hand with that?"

The suspicious look in her eyes suggested a home planet with high crime. She scanned him, obviously looking for signs of danger. She saw something that dropped her caution just a tiny bit and replied, "Sure, thanks," gratefully. Her accent was North American, he thought.

He scooped up the bag, which was as light as he suspected, slung it over his shoulder and asked, "Where are you heading?"

"Seven Rushton Avenue, number sixteen. But I have no idea where that is, other than this way," she replied, indicating the direction with a forward nod.

A stunning woman, tall and with a sexy drawl, moving in right next door! Definitely a situation to deal cautiously with. "Across this park is faster," he advised her, "I'm in number fifteen. Robert McKay." He offered a hand.

She held hers out and looked confused when he took it in both of his. "Uh . . . Kendra Pacelli."

"Sorry," he said, "Just a normal polite greeting here. I know it's not common on Earth."

"Is it that obvious?" she asked, smiling wryly.

He heard a slight strain to her breathing and slowed his pace a little. It was glaring to his trained eye, but he didn't want to alarm her. Instead, he told her honestly, "I've been there. Military duty." He took a quick, unobtrusive look up and down, trying to memorize every line of her. As far as physical beauty, this was a jackpot of a neighbor—incredibly tall, slim, creamy skin and eyes like the East Sea. He guided her through the small corner lot, lush with flowers and grasses and across Crow Lane to Rushton. "And here we are," he indicated the stairs, then led the way up.

He paused at his door and opened it, reached under his tunic and tossed a holstered gun and a pouch in the direction of the bed, closed the door and turned to hers.

"What do you do?" she asked.

"Operations analyst, currently on contract to the city. And vertol pilot for the reserves."

"Can I ask why everyone is armed to the teeth?" She was obviously bothered by the profusion of hardware she'd seen so far. Well, that fit with Earth's cultural attitude, he thought—ban anything that wasn't mandatory.

"Vicious native animals," he told her. "If you are anywhere out of the downtown area, it's very advisable to carry. We also carry to assert our rights, but don't worry about the philosophy now. It'll take some getting used to. Let me show you around," he suggested, placing her travelbag on the bed and guiding her through the one-room flat.

The kitchen was small, neat and efficient. The bathroom was nicely equipped and more spacious than she expected. A comm was provided, with excellent link capabilities, and he cautioned her that she would be charged for almost all access. The whole was about the size of a nice hotel suite on Earth. Considering her rent as a percentage of her income, it was more than adequate lodging in what seemed to be a fairly nice neighborhood. She was glad not to have taken the cheapest available.

"So, who will you be working for?" he asked.

"City Parks," she replied. "At least until my indent is paid."

"You don't have much other luggage then," he stated.

"None," she agreed.

"Ah," he nodded and moved to her bag. "May I?" he inquired.

She nodded a curious assent and he opened it, neatly laying things out on the bed. He nodded when it was empty and said, "As I thought. We need to take you shopping before you wind up hospitalized."

"Isn't my clothing appropriate?" she asked.

"Not at all. If you don't get shoes quick you'll be crippled by Rowanday. Let me take a quick shower and I'll take you out . . . unless you have other plans?"

"Uh, I really appreciate it, but could we do it tomorrow? I just want to drop from exhaustion."

"You can do that," he agreed with a concerned nod, "but once the food, gravity and air hit you, you'll spend two or three days wishing you were dead. I recommend buying now before you collapse."

"Well, I guess. You are a native guide. And thanks."

"No prob. See you in fifteen segs—I think that's a little less than twenty-five minutes?" He waited for her assent, then politely left.

Kendra had trouble using the shower and scalded herself repeatedly while adjusting it. The controls seemed fine, but the temperature scale was different from the kind she was used to. The tub and shower were one unit to save space, but large enough. They had the latest frictionless sides and seamless bends to prevent bacterial growth. Everything was padded and heated for safety and comfort. It hardly fit her perception of a frontier world, but this was the capital and it had been settled for almost three hundred years, she recalled.

Finishing, she yanked her hair into a quick mane and hoped the style wasn't too far out for Grainne. She slipped into casual jeans and tunic, pulled on her loafers and stepped out.

She knocked on McKay's door and heard a "Come in!" She opened the—unlocked—door, stepped in and froze. McKay was standing naked, halfway into briefs.

He looked up and looked embarrassed. "I
am
sorry," he apologized, quickly grabbing for pants. "We are pretty casual here and I forgot." Kendra realized his distress was on her behalf, not his own. Before she could respond, he was dressed and came over, dragging a different gun—this one polished and decorated—and belted it low on his right hip. He scooped up his pouch and another small bundle on his way.

The gun bothered her, but she realized it was not her place to criticize. Anyway, he was a military officer. Responding, finally, to her earlier surprise, she said, "I think I'm going to be shocked a lot in the next few days."

"Probably. I'll try to ease you into the difficult parts, but it won't be easy to remember most of what I take for granted. If something comes up, just ask."

"I will," she agreed, letting him take her arm and guide her out into Jefferson's late-afternoon madness. People were far more comfortable with physical contact here than on Earth. That of itself would take getting used to.

The stairs, she noticed now, were broad and shallow, likely because of the gravity. The ironwork was real iron, but her eye could tell it had been done en masse, not as individual pieces as she'd originally thought. It still lent a nice, airy touch to the square of buildings and the inner courtyard. She noted with a frown that the complex didn't have a gate to restrict access. Anyone could walk up to the doors. This obviously wasn't one of the better neighborhoods. The central courtyard was pretty, though, with more ironworked grilles and railings. Kids' toys were scattered around unlocked and she puzzled over that. Did the security cameras work that well? Was there a guard she didn't see? Or were the possessions coded for tracing?

They walked several blocks, winding up in an area full of shops. There were a few of the large megastores she was used to, but most of this neighborhood was little specialty shops, apparently family owned and operated.

Kendra spent much of the walk looking up, not at skyscrapers, although they were impressive, but at the heavens. The sky was turning a most amazing orange with magenta streaks to the west, with Iota brilliant yellow below it. Slightly higher, the sky maintained a blinding ultrablue, fading to violet in the east. The air was becoming breezy as the long dusk descended and an eager tension was moving through the crowds. There was a slight tang from the ocean, which was only a few kilometers away.

The first stop they made was for proper shoes. Her feet were already starting to hurt and she eagerly took his advice for a pair plain enough for work without looking too industrial, so she could wear them out as well. They had generous support and additional cushioning for tender feet, such as those of lower-gravity newcomers. When she asked about her old pair, he advised her to "Rag 'em. Unless they have some personal value." After a few moments consideration, she decided to bag them for the time being.

He led her to the lingerie section and promised to return shortly. She began looking through the bra racks. Little was available for a woman 1.8 meters tall. She sought the clerk.

The proprietor was a small woman, partly African in ancestry, her skin really dark in this environment, who hurried over to give advice.

"I've narrowed it down to this or this," Kendra said, holding up two styles from the sample rack for her to view. "What do you think?"

"Do you want these for a date, lady?" the old woman asked, twirling a lock of frizzy hair. "They'll look great. But if you want something for work, you'll be much more comfortable in something like this," she continued, indicating a different style. "Our gravity is higher, remember."

"Do you have it in a 100/110?" she asked, slightly unsure.

"Probably, but gravity will compress your spine a bit, so your chest is going to be expanded. Let me measure you. Arms up," she directed, whipping out a measure and walking around Kendra. The ball tickled as it rolled around her and flashed numbers.

Glancing at the readout, the clothier reached up and grabbed a different style from another rack. "Here," she said, handing it over. It was a 102/110. "Try that one and keep in mind that underwire, shelves and lace are for show-only here. You want elastic and lots of shoulder, especially until you build up your muscles. Otherwise, you'll droop, probably painfully."

Kendra nodded and made mental notes. "Okay. Where's the changing room?" she asked.

The woman looked confused. "Chang . . . oh, no such thing. Go ahead, honey, no one minds," she reassured Kendra.

Kendra bit her lip, then shrugged. It was obviously normal here and a fuss wouldn't produce a fitting room. She peeled off her tunic and tried the sample garment, trying not to be self-conscious or look ridiculous. She succeeded at the latter, not the former. The garment fit so she bought five.

Rob came back with a wrapped package and led her across the street to another specialty shop. They were far more common here than on Earth and she asked him about them.

He shrugged. "Just our way. The prices are about the same, but the smaller shops are friendlier. We use the big ones when doing seasonal stock-up and for bulk purchases." He pointed to her left. "Here's our next stop."

He had her buy a cloak, and not a cheap one. "The weather changes in segs," he told her, "and the temperature drops drastically at night. A cheap cloak is just a waste of credit." She had to admit it was a nice piece. It was a dark blue that set off her skin, thick and warm without being bulky or heavy. There were slits for her arms, buttons down the front and the hood had a drawstring. It looked to be a multipurpose and multiclimate item, and she could tell the workmanship was excellent. The same store furnished her with three tunics and an equal number of loose shorts in local style. From there, they walked across a corner into a huge green area. She counted her remaining funds and was depressed. She might have enough left for food, if she stuck to basics.

"Liberty Park," he announced. "Jefferson's largest, and where you'll probably be working. I thought you might want to look around."

"Great!" She acknowledged while taking his offered hand.

The color of the people was changing, from the soft grays, whites and light colors of daytime, to blacks, metallics and screaming hues in stiffer, tighter clothing, mostly revealing, designed to show off heavy-gravity physiques and high-UV tans. A few people were in various stages of nudity, while some were covered to the neck. Slash-and-puff was popular, along with iridescent pattern shifts. Whatever they had on, the evening clothes were worn to impress. Many were armed with pistols or knives or both, and those items too were embellished and prominent. Jewelry was unlike anything Kendra had seen before, and crime obviously was not a problem, considering the mass of precious stones and metals she could see with every blink. The crowd was boisterously loud and cheerful and an utterly disorganized mob bent on confusion. They moved with a
purpose
, and the purpose was revelry.