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"the old fence, run through it." It was easy.
"When do I get to squeeze a lump of coal into a diamond?"
Doc Threadneedle laughed. "When I can stop a speeding locomotive with one
bound."
"It's a deal."
The town was just coming alive, as she got to the Silver Shuriken. Sandrats
were pouring in to fence their weekly scav. A Maniak chapter had been through
last week, and one or two of them were still around, enjoying the yakuza
hospitality at the ze Schluderpacheru place. The gaudy girls were being kept
busy.
Doc Threadneedle parked his bike next to two Maniak sickles, and chained it
to the hitching post, setting the boobycharges in the padlock to blow if
anybody tried to tamper with it.
They went into the saloon.
"Doc, honey," said a large woman behind the bar. Doc Threadneedle leaned over
and kissed her. Her mainly exposed bosoms wobbled over the top of her black
corset. Looking at her heat patterns, Jessamyn saw the cold outlines of the
wavy dagger and the pepperpot charge-gun stashed in her garterbelt stark
against the warmth.
"Jessamyn, this is Magda. She's a friend."
"Ohayu, sweetheart," said the woman. "Welcome to the Shuriken. First drink is
on the house. Sake?"
Jessamyn thought a moment. "Scotch andCanada ."
Doc Threadneedle was startled. "Not yet, Jessamyn. You'll burn out your
greymass. Try a perrier."
"Okay, mineral water."
Magda took a green bottle from the cooler and poured a tall glass of
sparkling liquid. Jessamyn took a swallow. Her altered tastebuds tingled, and
she felt a spasm of pleasure in her stomach.
"Whew! That's a kick!"
"Get used to it."
Magda fished out a bottle of Shochaiku, and gave Doc Threadneedle a shot. He
sipped it.
Jessamyn thought it out. "I get it. It wasn't the alcohol you thought would
hit me..."
"Of course not, your greymass could shrug off a concentrated squirt of pure
smacksynth."
"... it was the taste."
"Right. You've got a touch of extrasensitivity. Work up to the extremes."
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She drank some more water. It was beyond anything she had ever experienced.
"I feel like a new girl."
"Jessamyn, you are a new girl."
She began to relax. This was fun. She hadn't expected to have fun ever again.
(In the back of her mind, the moonface tick-tocked, tugging her towards her
responsibilities.) She looked around the bar. It was typical of the places she
had been in during her Psychopomp days. Half Oldstyle-Western, half
Scavsurplus-High Tech. The customers drank and drugged peacefully, trying not
to make contact with each other, and the gaudy girls plied their trade
quietly.
There was a cowboy song on the juke, "I Dreamed of a Hillbilly Heaven," and
the two Maniax were practicing their fast draws against a GenTech Amusements
Machine that zapped you insensible with a light voltage if the
computer-generated gunslinger cleared leather faster than you did. One of them
lost a showdown, and slumped on the shockplate, dropping the gamegun. His
gangbuddy pulled out a real gun, and cocked it.
"Whoa there, big fella," said Magda. "Them things are expensive."
Jessamyn thought the Maniak might start a fightmdashshe needed some action
just now, her muscles tingledmdashbut the heavy-set panzerboy backed down, and
hauled his pal off.
"Just natural high spirits," Magda said. "Them boys skinned a solo Op out in
the sand last week, fenced his hide to the yakmen. Well off his trail, this
feller was. Some fancy-pants search-and-destroy customer fromLos
Angeles,California ."
"Which agency?" Doc asked. "Holderness-Manolo."
"I've heard of them. Glamour boys. Industrial warfare, mostly. The occasional
movie star divorce. High flyers. They don't come in-country often."
Jessamyn sipped her drink. There must still be warrants out on her. But it
didn't mean anything. There would be paper out on nine-tenths of the people in
the room, including the gaudy girls and the town drunk. This was a townload of
fugitives. Buzzsaw the cat was probably high on the FBI's Most Wanted Felines
list.
"Any idea who the solo was gunning for?"
"Nahh, could've been anybody? The Red Baron was through a month or two back,
racking up his score. And an esperado by the name of Al Amogordo took Buck
Standish out onMain Street Wednesday last. Crossed his eyes and exploded Old
Buck's head in some quarrel over a high yaller lady, then hit the trail in
Buck's G-Mek convertible."
"There'd be a price on him."
"Yeah. The solo was probably after Al."
Doc Threadneedle ordered another drink, and tipped a few drops into
Jessamyn's water. "Try that."
It was astonishing. "This is better than sex."
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"Have sex, and then see what you think."
Jessamyn cooled out her mouth.
A cowboy sauntered over to the bar, and sidled up next to them.
"Hey, beaut, you in the market for some home-baked Western-style lovin'?"
She looked him over. "Come on, Wyatt Earp" she said, "do I look like a
hog-tied sheep to you?"
The cowboy pushed his stetson back onto the crown of his head. He had
thick-oiled hair, and old acne scars.
"Well, hell, lady, if that's your attitude, perhaps you'd better just sew it
up, sister, cause there ain't no better stud bull than Curtius Kenne in the
whole territory."
Magda laughed. "Ignore him, Jessamyn. He just won the election. The town
hasn't had an Official Asshole for too long."
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