She wore an engineer’s gray jumpsuit with heavy magnetic boots and a tool belt still hooked around her waist. An engineer’s cap with a sun logo showed that she serviced the habitat’s outer sun shield. Marten idly wondered what she was doing in Smade’s, what she was doing in the Pleasure Palace all together. She had a heart-shaped face, was pretty and of medium height and regular build. Despite the jumpsuit, it was clear she was well endowed. Alert eyes, small nose and a mobile mouth, a kissing mouth, Marten thought to himself.
Their eyes met. He nodded. She looked away, then back at him as he sat down. Her gaze slid onto his tablemates. Recognition leaped onto her face as resolve settled upon her. She strode toward them.
Hansen and Kang argued about something, so neither of them noticed her. Marten saw the two monitors by the bar glance at her, each other and then jump to their feet.
She beat them to the table. “There’s a problem,” the engineer said without preamble.
Hansen looked up. “Nadia Pravda, what are you doing here?”
The two big monitors slid up behind her.
“The sump exploded and we lost an entire batch of product,” Nadia said. “Tell Bock that it wasn’t my fault.”
Hansen’s eyes boggled. He glanced at Kang, then at Nadia Pravda. “Get her out of here,” he said. “Teach her to be more careful about. To, ah—”
The big monitors each grabbed an arm.
Hansen glanced at Kang again, then at his men. “—Just get her out of here,” he said.
“It’s not my fault!” Nadia said, as they started dragging her out. “Tell Bock—”
“Silence!” said Hansen, with a sharp, authoritative bark as he stood and slapped the tabletop.
People looked up. One of the monitors holding onto Nadia peered meaningfully at Hansen, who jerked his head to one side. The big monitor nodded and the two of them hustled her out.
“Product?” Kang asked, as Hansen sat down. “Does that mean you’re still in the drug trade?”
Hansen shot Kang an angry stare.
“It couldn’t be black sand,” Kang said. “The HBs sell it openly to whoever wants it. Ah. Sure. You’re making dream dust, aren’t you?”
Hansen tried to stare Kang down and when it didn’t work, he slumped in his chair.
“She said Bock,” Kang mused. “Could that be the same Chief Monitor Bock you told us that you report to?”
Marten hid his excitement. Hansen made illegal drugs under the noses of the Highborn. He even had an engineer involved. Even better, this Nadia Pravda, this engineer, sounded as if she was in trouble with Hansen. Marten needed a way to move under security if he was ever going to steal a vacc suit in order to spacewalk to the broken-down pod. Here was his chance to find out how Hansen did it.
“Listen, Kang,” Hansen was saying, with a greasy smile on his face. Then he peered at his slender hands and ordered an eye-bender from the bar.
Marten stood. “I’m sorry, but I have to leave. This reunion, it’s none of my affair.” He motioned to Omi.
“Nor mine,” Omi said, standing.
Hansen peered at them, his features calculating. “No,” he said a moment later. “This is between Kang and me. You may go.”
“Hey, maggot,” Kang said. “My buddies and I do whatever we feel like. We’re shock troopers, which is top of the heap around here. You’re the one who’s going to need permission to leave, not them.”
Marten didn’t hear Hansen’s reply. He pushed Omi toward the door, and whispered, “Do you think Kang will be all right?”
“Hansen is too scared to try anything stupid. Kang could probably clear the bar if felt like it.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
Coming out of Smade’s they blinked at the glittering lights. Marten looked around and pointed at the two monitors frog-marching the engineer. They weren’t far ahead. She seemed resigned to her fate and wasn’t resisting.
“We’d better act natural,” Marten said, thrusting his hands into his jacket pockets. He sauntered along as if looking at the sights.
“You want to follow her?” Omi asked.
“This is our chance,” Marten said. “But we have to hurry.”
Omi blinked once and then laughed, immediately launching into a tourist-type gawker. He pointed at a tall spire in the distance before grabbing Marten’s arm and dragging him faster.
The two monitors frog-marched Nadia Pravda around a corner. Marten and Omi hurried. Marten made it around the corner in time to see them march her behind two plastic trees near the wall. The monitors had taken her down a small alleyway. A hidden door behind the two fake trees swished open. Marten and Omi broke into a run. The woman finally started talking, her voice wheedling, pleading. Marten plunged between the two plastic props, through the door and into a lift, with Omi almost on top of him.
One of the monitors had his back turned. The other jerked his head in surprise. He had a nasty scar across his forehead. “You two aren’t allowed—”
Marten punched him in the throat as the lift closed and headed down. He grabbed the man’s hair and slammed the meaty face down against his up-thrusting knee. Teeth crunched and the monitor slumped onto the floor. When he tried to get up Marten kicked him. Omi took out the second one.
Nadia Pravda the engineer stared at the two of them in wonder and dread.
“They were going to kill you,” Omi told her.
Marten looked at Omi in surprise.
“What?” she said.
“We heard Hansen order it,” Omi lied.
Nadia’s eyes got big and round. She glanced at Marten.
He shrugged.
Omi, who searched the bodies, handed Marten a small pistol. “It’s a projac,” he said. “Shoots drugged ice needles. Knocks a person out in seconds.” Omi checked the monitor’s pocket. “Hello.” He pulled out a small clip and examined the side print. He tossed it to Marten. “Know what that is?”
Marten shook his head.
“Explosive slivers of glass. A perfect murder weapon for use in a space hab.”
“You’re not monitors, are you?” Nadia asked.
Marten stared at her, uncertain how to go about this.
“I’m sure this isn’t about helping me,” she said, “although I do appreciate the help.”
“The lift is slowing down,” warned Omi.
“Look,” she said. “What…” Perspiration glistened on her brow. “You two swear that they were going to kill me?”
“What do you think these are for?” Marten asked, showing her the second clip.
Nadia moaned and hugged herself. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“That doesn’t matter anymore,” Omi said.
“I know that!” she said.
The lift stopped and the door swished open.
She stared at the empty corridor. Then she turned to Marten. Fear twisted her features, turning her skin pale under the shadow of her hat.
“Let’s make a deal,” Marten said.
“What kind of deal?” Nadia asked.
“I want to know why a solar engineer is working for drug lords,” Marten said.
“Not drug lords,” she said. “I work for the monitors.”
“Not for all of them,” Marten said, guessing. “But for the corrupt ones.”
Her shoulders sagged. She nodded. “I needed the credits.”
“I don’t want to know your reason,” Marten said. “Tell me theirs.”
“This is all very interesting,” Omi said. “But what are we going to do about these two? We have to move them.”
“Well?” Marten asked her. “Why did they need you?”
“Because the plant is there,” she shouted. “Why do you think?”
“The plant is where?” Marten asked.
“In the solar panels where I work.”
Marten smiled for the first time. He bet vacc suits were in the solar panels. He needed a vacc suit to spacewalk to the broken-down pod. “Last question.” He shrugged off his jacket and showed her his barcode tattoo. “Have you ever seen one of these before?”
“The monitors have them,” she said. “It tracks them, I think they said.”
“That’s right,” Marten said. “Do you know how they take themselves off the tracking screen?”
A shifty look entered her eyes. “What’s it worth you to know?”
“Nadia,” Marten said. “Either you tell me or there’s no deal. Then you’re on your own again.”
She glanced at the two unconscious monitors, at Omi as he shot each of them with a second projac. The monitors jerked. The one with the forehead scar and the missing teeth opened his eyes. Then the knockout drugs took over and the eyes closed again.
“It’s a little device that Hansen keeps with him,” Nadia said. “I’ve seen him slide it over two of his guards before, when they came to… to help me. One of them said something about it making them invisible. I guess he meant invisible to the station tracker.”
“Good,” Marten said. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”
Marten reentered Smade’s. He needed the device that would deactivate his barcode tattoo. Nadia said Hansen kept it on his person. He hoped she was right.
Before Marten adjusted to the gloom, Kang bellowed a greeting. Marten strode in that direction and a moment later slid into his chair. Hansen had his slender hands wrapped around a frosty glass of blue liquid. He looked dejected, his thinning hair messed up at the sides as if he’d been scratching his head. The massive Kang sat at the table as if he were a king. The dim light shone off the top of his bald head, while his eyes were a little more open than usual. His pupils had started turning glassy.
“Where’s Omi?” Kang asked.
“He’s with a girl,” Marten said. “I figured there’s no sense in trying to find Lance and Vip. So…”
“They’re more of you?” Hansen asked in alarm.
Kang leered. “Poor little informer, always wants to know everything, don’t you?”
Hansen made a peevish gesture.
“What are you having?” Marten asked Hansen.
“Eye-bender,” mumbled the monitor. “Do you want one? It’ll be on me.”
“Sure,” Marten said.
Hansen snapped his fingers and soon a waitress set a tall frosty eye-bender before Marten. He raised his glass to Hansen. Glumly, Hansen raised his and they clicked glasses.
“To old friends,” Marten said.
“I’ll drink to that,” Kang said, picking up his glass and clicking it against theirs.
Kang slurped vodka. Marten sipped, while Hansen took a mouthful of eye-bender and swallowed as if it were a lump of clay.
“Do you know why Hansen looks so sad?” Kang asked.
“Please,” said Hansen. “Do you have to speak so loudly? Must everyone hear?”
Kang leered. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Is that better?”
Hansen sighed, peered at his eye-bender and took another of his doleful swallows.
“He thinks I’ll spill his secrets,” Kang said.
“We’re all Sydney boys,” said Hansen in a dispirited way. “We have to stick together.”
“That’s so right,” Kang said. “So very right.”
Marten wondered how much vodka Kang had put away.
“But if I scratch your back, you little maggot, how are you gonna scratch mine?” asked Kang.
Hansen reached into his pockets and put a small pile of plastic credits on the table. “It’s all I have.”
Kang leered at Marten. “Do you think that’s enough?”
“For what?” asked Marten.
“To buy the 101st’s silence.”
Marten studied the credits and then Hansen. “Isn’t it dangerous what you’re doing? This entire setup?”
“No more dangerous than your profession,” said Hansen.
“Are you trying to say you’re as brave as us?” growled Kang.
“The saints forbid that I dare claim that,” said Hansen. He studied his eye-bender and a grin twitched. “But my profession does pay better and there are more perks.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Kang said. “At least about the better pay.”
Hansen winced, shook his long head and finished his eye-bender. “I must be leaving,” he said.
Kang dropped his hand onto Hansen’s wrist. “Going to get reinforcements are you? Maybe have them take me out somewhere quiet and work me over?”
“Do you think I’m insane?” asked Hansen. “The HBs would come flying to your rescue.”
“That’s right,” Kang said. “Then you’d all be in the pain booth. And then one of you would talk, would break under the pressure. It would be over for you. You’d take a space walk in your skivvies.”
“I know, I know,” said Hansen, sweat beading on his tall forehead.
“You little maggot,” Kang said. “You don’t know at all. You think you’ve finally got me drunk, got me stupid. You really think you can outsmart me. You, a little informer—” Kang spat on the table.
Hansen closed his eyes. When he opened them, the man and woman monitor-team that had been watching them stood at the table. The woman was taller than the man and had long black hair. Although short, the man had wide shoulders and seemingly no neck, and there was something odd about his eyes. They were gray and seemed empty, devoid of emotion.
Kang leaned back, eyeing the pair. “Are they yours?” he asked Hansen.