Authors: Steve Perry
Dirisha eased herself downward, sliding carefully over the sheets. In a moment, she was in position, and she replaced her gently probing fingers with her lips, then her tongue.
"Oh, yes!"
Dirisha lifted her face from the blond pubic mound and the warm saltiness there and said, "You tell me if you start to hurt anywhere."
"Hurt? It doesn'thurt ! Do it some more!"
Dirisha laughed and bent back to her task.
It took only a minute before Geneva arched upward and pressed herself hard against Dirisha's mouth, the small spasms clenching and releasing and pulsing through her lips into those of her lover.
"You were ready for that. I hardly got warmed up."
Geneva slid her hands down and into Dirisha's hair, to rub her head. "I've been ready since we were splashed. It's your turn. Move around."
"You sure you're up for it?"
"I'm sure."
"Well, okay. You talked me into it."
Both women laughed.
Lying quietly next to each other, the two women talked.
"That's the best it's been in a long time," Geneva said.
"Yeah.Nothing like a little danger to spice up your love life."
"That's true."
"I was joking, brat."
"I know. But you're right, you know. We've been getting stale lately, Rissy."
Dirisha propped herself up on her elbow. "You complaininghere?"
"No.Of course not." Geneva moved to kiss the other woman's nipple. She leaned back, smiling. "It's just that we've been coasting for a while. Our lives haven't beenabout anything."
Dirisha nodded. Geneva was right. She usually was about such things. They had gotten stale. When they'd been on the run from the Confed, with death maybe lying in wait around any corner, they had never been more alive. When each day might be your last, it made a big difference. You couldn't maintain that stance forever, of course; the stress would eat you alive, but putting yourself at risk did bring out your best—or your worst.
"Well. It doesn't look as if we are going to be coasting much in the near future."
"It feels good, doesn't it?"
"Yeah," Dirisha admitted. "It does."
• • •
Sleel felt the killers start to line up on him before he was even sure who they were. He wasn't much on mystical shit, but there was something in a man's moves that gave him away when he was planning to do you.
It didn't take long for him to pinpoint the sources.
There was a woman guard in the cafeteria. She had the standard-issue shockstik visible, but she could have a hidden weapon; they didn't check guards as closely as they did prisoners.
The second hitter was a short-timer who'd been supposedly transferred in from another lockup, a dark man with a lot of thick hair and a beard. He was a squat and thick mue with callused hands and knuckles, and he moved with a rolling gait that indicated more than a little training.
The third and final assassin was an assistant medex who'd started work two days after Sleel arrived.
He'd met the man, a tall and thin local, when he'd helped Truck to get his leg repaired.
Sleel spotted the first two on his own. It was Truck who had given him the third. Once again, it was when they were alone in the exercise room.
"How's the leg?"
"Better. Listen, you got trouble."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah.The new bonegluer wants to see you belly up."
"How do you know?"
"He told me.Figured I'd be likely to give him a hand, if maybe he needs it."
Sleel regarded Truck. "Why tell me?"
The bigger man grinned. "I don't much like you.but you're one of mine. We settle our shit face to face. I can't have anybody moving in from outside to fuck with me, now can I?"
"You're all right, Truck. I owe you."
"So leave me something in your will, Sleel."
In his cell lying on his extruded bed, Sleel thought about how he was going to handle it. This whole thing was a set-up all the way, and it looked as if he might not survive things here. He could take out the three who were targeting him, but that would only delay things some. They'd move on him again, and maybe next time he might not figure the hitters soon enough. It was time to leave this place, past time.
Dirisha had no hesitation in catling Rajeem again. He was glad to hear from her, she could see that on the augmented White Radio pix. They'd finally figured out how to get the color right, so that Rajeem's face looked natural on the holoproj in the hotel.
"Emile left his code for you," he said. He gave her the number. "Call if you need him. He's going to Vishnu to look forJuete, you can reach him there in a few days."
"Thanks, Rajeem. What about the visit to Sleel?"
"Arranged.I've instigated the pardon, but it will take time. A temporary parole of sorts might be worked out; my people are trying to contact the local judge. He can grant it, if he chooses."
"Maybe if we spoke to him?"
Behind her, Bork and Geneva grinned at each other.
"Hold off on that until my people see which way the current flows. He could be an honest man just doing his job."
"All right."
"I've got to go, Dirisha. Matters of state call."
"Thanks for the help, Rajeem."
"Any time, lovely lady.Remember the rabbit at the Perkins's estate?"
Dirisha laughed. Light years away, she felt the pull from him. They had been good together.
She cut the connection and turned to look at Bork and Geneva .
Geneva said, "What is a rabbit?"
"The first time Carlos and I made love," Dirisha said, "was triggered because a small creature, a little mammal about so big"—she held her hands apart to indicate the size of the animal—"hopped out of the bushes and scared the piss out of us."
"So you, ah, relieved your tension by screwing your brains out, eh?" Geneva smiled at her like a mother at a bright child.
"Stop that, brat. I'm not cute."
"Oh, yes, you are. You should see yourself."
"I'm going to swat you."
"Eek.Bork, save me."
The big man shook his head. "Youtwo been married too long."
Dirisha said, "Enough of my sordid past. Let's go see Sleel."
Of the three stalkers, Sleel considered the mue prisoner the most dangerous. The guard and the medex theoretically had more real power, but they were bound to avoid being too obvious in front of witnesses.
Prisoners had all kinds of reasons to lie about things, but a brain scan could pull truth out of a psychological morass, and electropophy gear was getting better all the time. Maybe his killer would worry about being caught if he or she got too rash. This was not a great comfort to Sleel. Dead was dead.
The mue, on the other hand, might have little to lose were he a legitimate prisoner. He could be serving full life and they couldn't add more time to that. An argument could turn into a fight, and who cared what a prisoner's reasons were for killing another prisoner? He didn't have to be as careful as the guard or the medex would have to be; he could move at almost any time.Unless maybe Sleel moved first.
Having made his decision, Sleel got up and went to find the mue. He had a few minutes before he had to start work. Betterhe should pick the time and place to get this done, and the sooner it happened, the better.
The mue was finishing breakfast when Sleel found him. They couldn't face off here, of course; Sleel didn't have any desire to be chem-bound and stuck in isolation while waiting to be tried on new charges of murder. If he let the mue get in a few shots first, he could claim self-defense, but given his last encounter with local justice, he had a feeling that might not be wise. No, he would do this privately. Call the mue out, arrange a place where nobody would be watching, and do it.
That he might lose was not a real possibility to him.
The mue felt him coming. The man on the mue's right and the woman on his left also noticed Sleel's arrival, and they found other business to which they suddenly had to attend.
The mue's vapid look didn't fool Sleel. The mue was a killer, Sleel could feel it in his bones, and the universe would be a better place without him.
No point in pretending or dancing around it. Sleel said, "In the exercise room, twenty-three hundred."
The mue didn't bother to act surprised or innocent. "I'll be there."
"Prisoner Sleel,"came a guard's voice from behind him.
Sleel didn't turn away from watching the mue."Yeah?"
"Go to the visiting rooms. You got company."
Sleel stepped back until he was outside of the mue's range,then glanced at the guard."A visitor? You sure you got the right guy?"
"I'm sure. Go.Now."
Dirisha felt naked without her spetsdods, and she was sure that Bork and Geneva must feel the same way. License or not, such weapons were not allowed in prison. She understood why, but she didn't like it. All three of them could walk the sumito patterns, and before she'd ever studied with Khadaji-as-Pen, Dirisha had been an expert in a handful of other arts, so she was hardly defenseless, but still…
The room was split in half by a floor-to-ceiling energy wall, invisible to the eyes, but crackling with enough voltage to stir the hair on her head and backs of her arms. The field was marked with bright red stripes on the floor and walls and ceiling, warnings in six common languages printed continuously next to the painted lines. To step across those warnings and lines would be to know the joys of a narrow-gauge zap field and the nasty headache that followed the fifteen minutes of unconsciousness. You could see and hear through it, but you couldn't move through a zap field without a fully insulated groundsuit. Assuming you could pry such a suit away from the military sub rosa units who were the only people legally entitled to own them, you certainly couldn't smuggle it into a prison, since anybody wearing such gear looked pretty much like an overstuffed orthopedic chair. And since the three had been scanned thoroughly, there weren't any weapons going to be tossed across the lines either. They'd been left alone, but Dirisha knew the room was hardwired for video and audio and all conversations were recorded. The legal clean-rooms were supposed to be different, of course, but Dirisha trusted that about as far as she could pitch Bork one-handed. And even if somebody were stupid enough to try to breach the zap-field wall, alarms would start screaming to high orbit the instant it happened.
There were tables and chairs on both sides of the room, but Dirisha and Geneva stood, and Bork leaned against the wall next to the door.
Across from them, on the prisoner side of the visiting room, a door slid open and Sleel, wearing prison-issue coveralls, sauntered in. Despite his situation and his clothes, he managed to look as if he owned the place.
He was glad to see them, Dirisha could tell, but he would have cut off his arm with a dull knife before admitting it. He smiled and shook his head.His bald head.
"Dirisha. Geneva .Bork. What are you doing here?"
"Nice to see you, too, Sleel," Dirisha said.
"We heard you changed your address," Bork said. "We thought we'd drop by and see your new place."
Sleel slouched into one of the chairs and waved one hand. "I'm planning on having it redone; it's a mess right now."
As usual, it was Geneva who went past the shit and spoke from her heart. "How are you, Sleel?"
For a second, the mask slipped and Dirisha saw worry on Sleel's face. Then the cock-of-the-galaxy grin came back. "Hey, I'm fine.Getting fat from all the carbohydrates."
"There's been some interesting developments lately," Dirisha said."In the family."
She and the others could play fugue, though none of them were real experts at it. Anybody who really knew the between-the-lines talk would be able to follow their conversation easily. Dirisha was hoping the prison officials wouldn't bother to find an expert to listen to the hours of recordings from the visitors' rooms. What she'd just said to Sleel, each knowing what they knew about the other, could be translated more or less to,The matadors have had some trouble.
"That's nice," Sleel said.Oh? What trouble ?
"Yes, business is really booming. Pretty soon we won't need anyclients, we'll have enough work of our own to keep us busy full-time." Dirisha moved her hands, adding meaning to the words with her gestures and her expressions.Direct attacks on us.
"Really?Sorry I'm missing it." It have anything to do with me being here ?
"Ah, well, you aren't missing much."Yes. You being here is part of it. Watch yourself .
Geneva broke in. "Rajeem sends his best and says he hopes to see you soon.Might be a while before he can manage it." That one was a bit of a stretch. Dirisha couldn't see what hand motions the blonde used, but she realized that Sleel understood the main thrust.President Carlos knows you are here and is trying to get you out. It will take some time .
Sleel chuckled. "Tell him I'll drop by soon as I'm out."I am going to escape. I can't wait. Something has come up in here .
Dirisha knew that for Sleel to indicate something was amiss meant things were bad. She made a quick decision.
"I don't think I'll be able to do that for a while; we've got some legal business to clear up here first."Sit tight, Sleel. We'll see what we can do to get you out .
Sleel shrugged. "No problem."Hey, I can take care of it myself. I don't need your help .
Bork moved away from the wall."Hey, Sleel. Fuck you."
Dirisha and Geneva both laughed, and even Sleel couldn't stop his smile. Anybody monitoring the conversation or listening to the recordings later would have to wonder what that non sequitur was all about. Dirisha didn't need fugue to understand Bork's statement, though, and neither did Sleel.
"You ain't that big, Bork."
"Sure I am. Besides, you owe me a uniform."
Sleel sighed. Bork had saved Sleel's life when they'd taken over the broadcast station on Mason. Sleel's arm had been blown off by a rocket and Bork had scooped him up and staunched the blood flow by jamming the wound against his own chest. He'd joked later about the ruined uniform. Now, he was calling Sleel on the debt.
Dirisha watched him. Sleel was stubborn, but he had a sense of honor. "Okay," he said.