14
The little train shot through its tunnel at eighty kilometers per hour. Case kept his eyes closed. The shower had helped, but he'd lost his breakfast when he'd looked down and seen Pierre's blood washing pink across the white tiles.
Gravity fell away as the spindle narrowed. Case's stomach churned.
Aerol was waiting with his scooter beside the dock.
`Case, mon, big problem.' The soft voice faint in his phones. He chinned the volume control and peered into the Lexan face-plate of Aerol's helmet.
`Gotta get to _Garvey,_ Aerol.'
`Yo. Strap in, mon. But _Garvey_ captive. Yacht, came be fore, she came back. Now she lockin' steady on _Marcus Garvey.'_
Turing? `Came before?' Case climbed into the scooter's frame and began to fasten the straps.
`Japan yacht. Brought you package...'
Armitage.
Confused images of wasps and spiders rose in Case's mind as they came in sight of _Marcus Garvey._ The little tug was snug against the gray thorax of a sleek, insectile ship five times her length. The arms of grapples stood out against _Garvey_'s patched hull with the strange clarity of vacuum and raw sun light. A pale corrugated gangway curved out of the yacht, snaked sideways to avoid the tug's engines, and covered the aft hatch. There was something obscene about the arrangement, but it had more to do with ideas of feeding than of sex.
`What's happening with Maelcum?'
`Maelcum fine. Nobody come down the tube. Yacht pilot talk to him, say relax.'
As they swung past the gray ship, Case saw the name HAN IWA in crisp white capitals beneath an oblong cluster of Jap anese.
`I don't like this, man. I was thinking maybe it's time we got our ass out of here anyway.'
`Maelcum thinkin' that precise thing, mon, but _Garvey_ not be goin' far like that.'
Maelcum was purring a speeded-up patois to his radio when Case came through the forward lock and removed his helmet.
`Aerol's gone back to the _Rocker,'_ Case said.
Maelcum nodded, still whispering to the microphone.
Case pulled himself over the pilot's drifting tangle of dread locks and began to remove his suit. Maelcum's eyes were closed now; he nodded as he listened to some reply over a pair of phones with bright orange pads, his brow creased with con centration. He wore ragged jeans and an old green nylon jacket with the sleeves ripped out. Case snapped the red Sanyo suit to a storage hammock and pulled himself down to the g-web.
`See what th' ghost say, mon,' Maelcum said. `Computer keeps askin' for you.'
`So who's up there in that thing?'
`Same Japan-boy came before. An' now he joined by you Mister Armitage, come out Freeside...'
Case put the trodes on and jacked in.
The little train shot through its tunnel at eighty kilometers per hour. Case kept his eyes closed. The shower had helped, but he'd lost his breakfast when he'd looked down and seen Pierre's blood washing pink across the white tiles.
Gravity fell away as the spindle narrowed. Case's stomach churned.
Aerol was waiting with his scooter beside the dock.
`Case, mon, big problem.' The soft voice faint in his phones. He chinned the volume control and peered into the Lexan face-plate of Aerol's helmet.
`Gotta get to _Garvey,_ Aerol.'
`Yo. Strap in, mon. But _Garvey_ captive. Yacht, came be fore, she came back. Now she lockin' steady on _Marcus Garvey.'_
Turing? `Came before?' Case climbed into the scooter's frame and began to fasten the straps.
`Japan yacht. Brought you package...'
Armitage.
Confused images of wasps and spiders rose in Case's mind as they came in sight of _Marcus Garvey._ The little tug was snug against the gray thorax of a sleek, insectile ship five times her length. The arms of grapples stood out against _Garvey_'s patched hull with the strange clarity of vacuum and raw sun light. A pale corrugated gangway curved out of the yacht, snaked sideways to avoid the tug's engines, and covered the aft hatch. There was something obscene about the arrangement, but it had more to do with ideas of feeding than of sex.
`What's happening with Maelcum?'
`Maelcum fine. Nobody come down the tube. Yacht pilot talk to him, say relax.'
As they swung past the gray ship, Case saw the name HAN IWA in crisp white capitals beneath an oblong cluster of Jap anese.
`I don't like this, man. I was thinking maybe it's time we got our ass out of here anyway.'
`Maelcum thinkin' that precise thing, mon, but _Garvey_ not be goin' far like that.'
Maelcum was purring a speeded-up patois to his radio when Case came through the forward lock and removed his helmet.
`Aerol's gone back to the _Rocker,'_ Case said.
Maelcum nodded, still whispering to the microphone.
Case pulled himself over the pilot's drifting tangle of dread locks and began to remove his suit. Maelcum's eyes were closed now; he nodded as he listened to some reply over a pair of phones with bright orange pads, his brow creased with con centration. He wore ragged jeans and an old green nylon jacket with the sleeves ripped out. Case snapped the red Sanyo suit to a storage hammock and pulled himself down to the g-web.
`See what th' ghost say, mon,' Maelcum said. `Computer keeps askin' for you.'
`So who's up there in that thing?'
`Same Japan-boy came before. An' now he joined by you Mister Armitage, come out Freeside...'
Case put the trodes on and jacked in.
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