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Mullen clutched at the seatback in front of him and his head swam as the pilot flipped to manual and sent
the Airchief into a stomach-wrenching, climbing turn. Balls of flaring orange swept by outside. Confusion
broke out in the rear as unrestrained bodies that had been poised ready to move fell and collided to the
accompaniment of shouted curses. A pattern of crimson blotches appeared in the mid-ground between
the veering craft and the rocky shelf detonated short as warning shots. Even so, several scattered
cracks sounded of fragments striking the structure.
"What kind of schoolteachers are those?" the pilot snarled over his shoulder. "I thought you said this was
gonna be a picnic. The operation's off. We don't have anything to take on that kind of artillery."
Mullen found that his mouth had gone dry. It had been a long time since he'd been in any kind of firing
line. "That little creep! Somebody else bought him! We were set up! He'll fry when I get back! Nobody
crosses me and walks away! Okay, let's go home."
* * *
Kieran and the others had followed what they could of the action from the little that Gottfried, still
perched on the slopes above the shelf, had been able to capture through his lenses. They were as unable
to make sense of it as anybody at the Troy site, as the commotion coming in over the monitoring taps
showed. To cap it all, in the midst of frantic calls from Banks to Asgard asking for instructions, Farquist
joined in, making it shrilly clear that he and his medics hadn't come here to get involved in a private war
and demanding to know what was going on as if anyone there could tell them.
Kieran decided that he had created about as much mischief here as he was likely to. It was time to carry
the good fight to other quarters. He was fascinated by Pierre's self-assembling nano-synthesizers, and
was certain that therein lay the means to make Gilder finally crack. But to do it he needed to get to Gilder
directly, and the way to do that was not here. But possibly the wedding group assembling in Lowell might
offer opportunities. Accordingly, he called Solomon Leppo and told him to get out to Tharsis in any kind
of flyer he could lay his hands on and take Kieran back right away.
Leppo arrived with a partner called Casey, sooner than Kieran had dared hope, in a sleek flymobile
"special" they had modified themselves. Kieran left with them for Lowell just as Cobert's snatch squad
was taking off from Troy to come and get him. He told Hamil and Walter that he'd just have to leave
them to deal with Banks and Cobert for the time being, and come up with something to account for his
disappearance. But then again, a coherent explanation for the antics of an eccentric like Keziah Turle was
hardly something that could reasonably be demanded. Like Jesus Christ, the twentieth century's General
MacArthur, and the Schwarzenegger Terminator of the old movies, he assured them that he would be
back.
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17
It was good to be back. Lowell felt urban and cosmopolitan, strange as that sounded for what was itself
just a microscopic part of humanity gathered under a collection of domes and dugouts surrounded by
desert. But it was a big step up from being confined in vehicles, portable cabins, and surface suits.
Since there was a chance that June's place might be watched, Kieran called to let her know he was in
town and then checked in at the Oasis which was, after all, where all the action was happening that he
hoped to use to his advantage. After treating himself to some clean clothes from the lobby-level shops
and consigning his grubby desert wear to the hotel laundry, he showered, shaved, and relaxed for half an
hour with a touch of Vivaldi and a Bushmills Black Bush straight. Then, feeling refreshed, rejuvenated,
jaunty, and invigorated, he went down to the bar to reconnoiter the situation and consider his options
from here. As luck would have it, Patti was working the shift. Her face lit up as she recognized him.
"Hey, Kieran! Welcome back. June said you were away on business for a while. Did you get it all
done?"
"The away part, anyhow."
"So, Olympus again?"
"Sure. You've cut your hair. What happened to the ponytail?"
Patti took a glass and began filling it. "Oh, it just got to be too much bother. It just doesn't hang right in
the gravity."
"So I take it Guinness has been behaving? He's still taking you and Grace for walks?"
"Yes. He's terrific. Half our friends are fighting over him now. Does that mean you haven't seen them yet
since you got back? How come?"
"I haven't been back there. I'm checked in here right now."
"Oh! That doesn't mean that you guys are fighting or something, does it?" Patti looked horrified.
Kieran grinned and shook his head. "Nothing like that. I just have reasons for being here rather than
there for a while."
"Well, I'm glad about that. You two seemed to be right together." Patti set the glass down with a
coaster. "Although, something a bit odd happened. I don't know if it was important or not, but Grace
said that when she and another of the girls were out with Guinness, two guys in a car pulled up and
wanted to know who the owner was. They sounded kind of . . . mean. Grace didn't want to get into
complications so she just said he was hers. Was that okay?"
"Hmm . . . Yes, sure."
"Back in a moment." Patti moved away to serve some other customers.
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Kieran sat back on the stool to rest against a partition and looked around. Maybe it wouldn't be such a
good idea to walk around here brazenly as himself, he decided.
The bar was busier than what had been the norm. And there was an atmosphere of boisterous familiarity
among the people present, as if most of them knew each other unlike typical guests and travelers, who
tended to confine themselves to ones, twos, and small groups. "Seems you've got a party going on here,"
Kieran commented when Patti came back.
"People have been coming in from all over for some big wedding that's being held off-planet," she told
him. "They'll be leaving late tomorrow but they're loaded."
"Who's getting married? Any idea?"
"Hamilton Gilder's daughter, Marissa. Where have you been? You know whohe is, right? His face is on
the net often enough."
"The big chief of Zorken Consolidated, isn't he? The construction and mining outfit."
"Right. They have this place in orbit that's swinging close by Mars right now. That's where the wedding is
going to be."
"Who's she marrying?" Kieran asked, although he already knew.
"Mervyn Quinn." Who was a superstar of role-taking movies. "But his group is getting together over in
Zerolon, somewhere you know, the old tradition about staying separate beforehand. I guess they'll be
going up on a different ship."
Kieran nodded, sipped his beer, and fell silent for a moment, as if digesting the new information. "What's
she like close up the delectable Marissa?" he asked. "She looks pretty good in the shots I've seen of
her." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]