Pelquin's Comet (14 page)

“I made it here without any hassle,” Pelquin pointed out.

“Yeah, but do you really want to count on that sort of luck twice? I thought you’d come by taxi, not
walk
here. Look, if I’m wrong, what’s the harm? But, if I’m right, this will keep us from being mugged, even by any chancers who might have spotted a gormless tourist wandering around with something as classy as a miniaturised perminal strapped to their wrist. Sure you don’t want to consult it for directions, by the way? I’ll wait, no problem.”

“No, that’s fine. I’ll be happy to let you be my guide,” Pelquin assured him. “I’ll even carry your noodles, okay?”

They made it back to the ship without challenge, though Pelquin still had his doubts about how much of that was due to Nate’s symbol-emblazoned bag.

“Are you going to keep that, then?” Nate asked, indicating the takeaway.

“Might as well,” Pelquin replied. “I paid for it, after all.”

Nate grunted. “Well, just don’t eat it all.”

“Why not?”

“I want to feed some of the noodles to the autochef, just to see if it can replicate the dish.”

Pelquin had to laugh. “Really? I remember what happened the last time you tried something like that.” All that had emerged was a gloopy brown textureless mush, a million light years away from the delicately spiced casserole Nate had been hoping for.

“Yeah, but that was different,” Nate said. “We were low on supplies then. This time, with the protein banks, spices, and food reserves fully restocked at New Sparta, it ought to work fine.”

“If you say so. You can try whatever emerges first, though.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Pelquin took his leave and went to his cabin, the takeaway bag still in hand and the smile still in place. It had been good, this lunch with his oldest friend.

The captain had been surprised when Drake chose to tag along with the new girl, that much was obvious. Pelquin’s expression suggested that he’d never understand what motivated the banker’s choices; which was just as well. Drake had no desire for
anyone
to understand.

Seeing Leesa again had been one of the biggest shocks of his life – her sudden reappearance throwing him so off-kilter that even Mudball was concerned.
Is this woman turning up really such a big deal?

Yes.
But he refused to explain why, clamping down on his thoughts while wondering how much the little alien was aware of in any case.

After leaving the Rusty Rivet Drake had returned to the
Comet
, where he’d chatted briefly with Anna, whose normally effervescent mood was subdued, probably because she had been left to mind the ship while everyone else went off exploring the new world. After that, he retreated to his crewcot and set about breaking into the captain’s private files while no one else was around to monitor and notice his efforts. Or, to be more accurate, Mudball’s efforts.

It hadn’t taken the little alien long to crack the relevant encryptions, allowing Drake access. He began with the most recent updates and worked backwards, examining everything and uncovering hints along the way that Pelquin’s activities had on occasion strayed beyond the limits of the law, which hardly came as a shock, but nothing relating to the current situation. Past misdemeanours were of no interest to Drake and whatever the
Comet
’s captain might be up to now, he was keeping it to himself. Satisfied there was little worthwhile to find here, Drake had Mudball withdraw and cover all trace of their intrusion. He was just contemplating what to do next when Bren and the captain returned with the potential new recruit, curtailing any further efforts.

Drake didn’t bother going to meet the new arrival at once – why hurry when she was merely a trialist? So it wasn’t until a little later that curiosity caused him to stroll down to the engine room.

Sight of her stopped him in his tracks.

Drake had never been one to panic. He’d always believed that rational thought was the best counter to any problem and that succumbing to the body’s instinctive emotional response was the surest way of making a bad situation worse. He reminded himself of this as he stood there, very deliberately drawing a deep breath as he watched this woman at work. She didn’t seem aware of him as yet.

You know this chick?

Oh yes
, he replied to his diminutive companion’s query.
From way, way back.
“Leesa?” he said out loud at last.

“Yup, that’s me,” she said, briefly glancing round at him. “But this isn’t a spectator sport. I’m busy here, so move along, okay? Feel free to come back and say ‘hi’ when I’m finished.”

He stared at her, astonished by her response, or rather lack of it.

Are you certain you know her? ’Cos she sure as hell doesn’t seem to know you,
Mudball said.

So I noticed.

Drake walked away, deep in thought. Did Leesa genuinely not recognise him, or was she merely feigning it? How could she
not
know him? Of course, his problems would really begin when and if she did. He preferred his past to stay where it was: a long way back, not reaching out to touch upon his present.

The sooner he could determine whether this was all part of some elaborate game Leesa was playing the better.

N
INE

Drake didn’t hesitate in volunteering to accompany Leesa on her trip into La Gossa. She gave every indication of complete indifference, apparently accepting that
someone
would accompany her, if only to handle the financial side of things.

The urge to say ‘it’s me’ as soon as they were alone was a temptation he firmly resisted. Until he could fathom what she was up to, or whether indeed she was up to anything at all, he settled on a watching brief; without, hopefully, being too obvious about it.

The first thing he noted was anxiety bordering on fear. Going back into La Gossa was the last thing she wanted to do. He waited for her to let her guard down, just for a second, to show some sign of recognition. It never came. If this was acting, then it was a consummate performance.

“We don’t hang around, right?” she said. She was setting a quick pace, forcing him to take long strides to keep up. “We find what we want, you buy it, and then we head straight back to the ship so that I can get on with the repairs.”

Or so that she could avoid bumping into whoever or whatever was making her so jumpy.

Leesa led the way through bustling streets that skirted the busy commercial quarter and into quieter, less frantic ones. In the face of her silence Drake divided his time between studying his surroundings and studying her. It had been years since they’d known each other. She’d changed, growing leaner and, in appearance at least, harder. Leesa had always been as tough as they came on the inside but now that toughness was starting to show through, in the set of her jaw, the gaunter look to her face. Her body seemed more angular and wiry. She still managed to look younger than she actually was but he sensed that even her apparent youth was fading. He felt a pang of guilt at the way they’d parted, not that he’d had much choice.

Doubtless he had changed too. A business suit was the last thing he would have worn when they knew each other, but he hadn’t changed that much; certainly not enough to fool the part of her that never slept. Yet she showed not a flicker of recognition, and he was increasingly confident that her ignorance was genuine. What had happened?

There was something oddly out of synch about her, as if she’d been damaged and not healed properly, like a fractured bone that had knitted incorrectly. She was functioning but not quite as she should be. Despite the evidence, he remembered all too well who she was and what she was capable of, and he couldn’t entirely rule out the possibility that she was faking it, but the possibility seemed less and less likely.

Babylon wasn’t a world he’d visited before and new places always held a fascination for Drake, so he didn’t have to pretend interest in the surroundings. Judging by the squalid streets she was now taking him through, Leesa had no compunction about showing him La Gossa in the raw. She clearly felt no strong affinity to the place, no desire to impress a stranger. Either that, or she didn’t consider him worth the trouble of impressing.

The fault that had forced them out of RzSpace was genuine; Mudball had been able to confirm that. The
Comet
wouldn’t be going anywhere until the engines were fixed, which gave Drake a rare opportunity to step away from his responsibilities for a while. Besides, he was still convinced that Pelquin had an ulterior motive for being here, and Drake’s need to analyse Leesa outweighed any slight residual risk of his being abandoned.

He had to admit, too, that being out and about in La Gossa was infinitely more appealing than the prospect of sitting around on a grounded ship or whiling away the afternoon in a bar with random members of the
Comet’s
crew.

His companion’s obvious discomfort continued to intrigue him. He sensed that her hostility towards him was rooted in more than just the casual concern that he’d cramp her style or slow her down. She really didn’t want him around. Something had her spooked, a fact she was trying hard not to show, perhaps believing it might jeopardise her position on the crew. His presence was providing a convenient focus for her displaced anxiety. Fine, he could live with that.

One thing was certain: wherever she intended to conduct her business, it wasn’t going to be anywhere in the city’s more salubrious districts. They stepped from an alleyway, pushing aside a drape that might have been leather, and a vista of extreme poverty unfolded around them; a shantytown Drake would never have suspected existed given the thriving city he’d been in just a few streets before. Ad hoc homes surrounded them, built of canvas walls draped over foraged wooden frames, plastic crates, and the occasional sheet of corrugated metal for the lucky ones. Bright coloured rugs or blankets hung down the sides of several, though it wasn’t clear if they were intended to provide privacy or simply put out to dry. Rubbish was everywhere, great drifts of crushed cartons and abandoned tins, screwed up packaging and torn cellophane, all heaped together, piled up against flimsy walls. And the stink was appalling.

Two tatter-clad children chased each other, clambering into the skeleton of a car which stood by the roadside, its windows as absent as its wheels while one door was missing completely. The children’s shrill laughter was the first remotely happy sound Drake had heard since entering the shantytown. Gaunt-framed men and women with flat, dead eyes squatted outside many of the shacks and suspicious gazes followed their progress. The smell of urine and decay permeated everything, while the incessant buzzing of flies surrounded them.

Nobody challenged them, even to beg. Drake suspected that most here simply lacked the energy to do so.

As they’d almost completed their passage across this depressing place they encountered three youths, loitering with attitude; not doing anything overtly threatening, just hanging around. The tallest stood out because he was too well dressed and looked to be a mean son-of-a-bitch: all black leather and piercings. The other two, a boy and a girl, were almost insignificant in comparison. Drake sensed Leesa grow tense under the youths’ scrutiny.

“Trouble?” he asked quietly.

“Maybe,” she replied, equally softly, her eyes staring straight ahead. “Don’t look at them!” Drake quickly averted his eyes. “They’re disberos – district boys – small time hoodlums but worth staying on the right side of, if only because there are so many of the bastards.”

This was the most she’d said to him since they set out and he decided to push his luck. “Shakedowns, extortion, that sort of thing?”

“Yeah, plus drug peddling, smash and grabs in broad daylight, muggings, knifings simply for the fun of it when they’re in the mood, which is generally when they’re high on yanyel or cheap liquor.” She quickened her pace. “They’ve got half the city – the poorer half – divided up into territories and their influence is too ingrained for the authorities to do much about it. Just keep walking and keep your eyes front. With a bit of luck they’ll ignore us.”

Thankfully, they did, and Drake and Leesa walked past without being troubled. Soon after, the great swath of shacks ended, giving way to the solid reassurance of brick-built permanence once more. The great wash of makeshift homes crashed up against the brickwork like sea at high tide against a cliff face, the nearest shacks leaning against the walls, taking advantage of their stability. Drake imagined for a moment that if you were to remove the support of those walls the nearest dwellings would instantly tumble down, bringing with them the next row and the next in an irresistible domino effect, a collapse that would spread out across the district until the whole shantytown was flattened.

He was forced to pause as two battered bikes chugged past, heading into the slum. The short sleeves and back of the first rider’s brightly coloured shirt billowed in the slight breeze stirred by his own passage. Neither man showed any sign that they’d even noticed Drake and Leesa. As the second bike drew level, Drake saw a small child hugging the rider’s back, precariously perched on a seat intended for one. Even the kid’s desultory gaze slipped over him as if he wasn’t there.

Drake soon realised that although the buildings around them might have changed the sense of poverty remained, as did the air of hopelessness. Boarded windows stared down at them from concrete walls whose only decoration was a mosaic of cracks that emanated haphazardly from sill corners. The banker continued to trust that his reticent guide knew where she was going, taking reassurance in the conviction that Leesa wanted to get off this world as much as anyone.

She walked straight up to a slatted wooden door in the side of a building. Beyond it Drake could hear the thrum of machinery. Leesa didn’t hesitate, pulling the door open and stepping inside. Drake followed, into a world of throbbing heat and bass vibration.