World's End

Page 23

Ang snorted with laughter as he saw the man kicking and cursing, as if discomfiture with the repulsive flora of this place were somehow amusing. "It'll all be back tomorrow,"

he said, to no one.

"Who's that?" I asked. The other man was peering out from under the wide rim of his sun helmet. His skin and hair were the color of paste, as if he was never outdoors by choice. His blunt, tight-muscled body gleamed with sunblock lotion and sweat. I distrusted him on sight.

27

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

JOAN D. VINGE

"Spadrin," Ang said, or rather called out. "This is our mechanic."

"You mean he's a partner?" I asked. I was more than a little irritated. Ang hadn't mentioned a third partner, either this morning or when he'd asked me to join him.

He'd offered me an equal share of anything we found-- but he never mentioned that it would be a three-way split.

Ang didn't bother to answer me, now that the answer was obvious. And Spadrin was staring back at me in a way that made me forget about Ang's shortcomings.

"This is Gedda," Ang told him.

Spadrin started visibly when he heard the name, but then his frown came back. "You got a Kharemoughi?

You said we were going to get some Company hand--"

He broke off. "Why?"

"He was the best I could do." Ang shrugged, but it wasn't an easy motion. 1 wondered whether his comment

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

was a compliment. His hands were making fists inside the pockets of his coveralls.

Spadrin glared at Ang, disbelief plain on his face. Then he looked me up and down pointedly, as if I were an inanimate object.

I stared back at him, reconfirming my first impression.

He was clearly out of place. His clothes were made of a shining, silken fabric, and might have passed for stylish summer wear in some climate-controlled metropolis; but they were absurdly impractical here. The tattoos running up his bare arms told me a lot more, although I recognized only a few of the designs and symbols. They all have their separate meanings: They Page 24

illustrate a man's life history in the Hegemony's underworld. Spadrin was a career criminal.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked me.

"The same thing you are," I said.

28

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

WORLD S END

He didn't believe it, any more than I did. He looked at Ang. "I don't want him."

"I do." Ang turned away abruptly. "Gedda," he said to me, pointing at the rusty metal hulk rising up beside us, "take a look at it, tell me what you need."

I moved warily past Spadrin, and began to inspect the vehicle. I heard the two of them arguing behind me as if I couldn't hear them; listened while trying to seem like I wasn't listening. Spadrin used the worldspeech of

Number Four with surprising fluency. Anyone can learn a language quickly with an enhancer, but only someone with some intelligence will speak it well. Spadrin is not stupid . . . and I won't forget it. At last he turned and strode away, cursing, and I finished my inspection in peace.

"Well?" Ang said, when I climbed down from the cab.

"It's not hopeless." I leaned against the rover's pitted side and wiped rust from my hands. "The power unit is

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

sound. You said you can get me tools and parts?"

He nodded.

"It's not going to be cheap--"

"I have contacts in the Company. I can get anything you want." The last was said with something closer to arrogance than to confidence.

"Good, then. How much do you understand about how a rover functions?"

"A hell of a lot more than most people," he snapped.

"I've been piloting them since you were a snot-nosed brat." As if somehow I were supposed to have known that. "Just tell me what you want."

I bobbed my head. "Then I'll be precise." I gave him my initial lists, being as technically accurate Page 25

as possible, and watching him for signs of comprehension. ". . . And finally, but most importantly, I'm going to need a new repeller grid, if you want this thing airborne."

29

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

JOAN D. VINGE

That got a reaction. "A grid? The grid is out?"

I nodded. "It's completely deteriorated. Believe me, you don't want to risk flight on it."

"By the Aurant!" His frustration was scorching. A grid would make the difference between swift, comfortable travel by air, and an endless, arduous land journey. All the difference in the world.

But he only grunted. "I'll see what I can do." He reached into a pocket of his coveralls, pulled out a fesh stick, and stuck the piece of narcotic soaked root into his mouth.

"Ang-"

He looked up sharply, as if he knew what I was about to say.

"Why didn't you tell me about Spadrin?"

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html

He looked down again, lighting the fesh, and shrugged.

"Listen, Ang. ..." I took a deep breath, trying to hold on to my patience. "This is a two-man vehicle. Three of us is going to make spending a lot of time in it damned uncomfortable. I know why you need me on this trip;

but why him?"

"Protection."

"Protection!" It was the last thing I'd expected to hear him say. I almost told him that I was police-trained, that I

could offer him better and surer protection than Spadrin ever could--but I didn't want to start him asking about my motives instead of Spadrin's. "Gods, man," I shook my head, "don't you know what Spadrin is?" I was sure

Ang had never even been to Foursgate, let alone off world.

But spending his life here in this borderland, he must have seen hundreds of Spadrins passing through: on the run from the law, or looking for easy victims.

"He's an offworlder." Ang said it as if offworlder and scum were the same word. "He came to World's

End just like you. Said he was stranded in Foursgate, needs a stake to get back to his homeworld."