Anthology - From the Street

"Just because you're paranoid, Clio, it doesn't ALWAYS mean someone's out to get you." As I stepped into the cabin, I smiled sweetly at Clio while keeping my Predator leveled on her. "For the record, I'm nobody's gal but my own. I don't mind hitching along, but I don't like being taken for a ride."

If looks could kill, Clio's face would be an atom bomb. Phil stepped into the cabin to back me up. "Just tell me one thing, Johnny: Why? Why did you sell out?"

Johnny didn't look his partner in the eye. "Time. Let's be honest Phil, I'm not the same t-bird jammer I used to be twelve years ago, and the Northwest's changed over the past few years. So when Clio told me she had contacts in the Karatsa-gumi who could help out, the answer seemed obvious."

My brow crinkled as I tried to figure out the name. "What do a bunch of San Fran yaks have to do with our little smuggling run to Denver?"

"I would suspect they are interested in the product you brought from Seattle, Ms. Cruise," said a voice from behind me. Standing in the doorway was another ork, taller than Phil and adorned in native garb garnished with white feathers.

With Phil and I momentarily distracted by our surprise visitor, Clio attempted to draw her pistol and make a break for it. However, as she struggled with her pistol, an Indian dancer suddenly appeared in the cabin and tackled her to the ground. As he raised a tomahawk to put her down, the ork glanced sharply, sending a sharp look of silent yet stern objection. The spirit paused, bowed, and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Between his garb and this display of power, it was obvious who our new visitor was. "You're a long way from Denver, aren't you, Mr. Whitebird?"

Nicholas Whitebird, translator for the Great Dragon Ghostwalker, simply nodded acknowledgement. "When Gonzales didn't report in at Smuggler's Valley, my master became concerned. So when your associate started summoning spirits to conceal your aircraft, we took notice. Transport was arranged to bring me here."

That meant the Denver Zonies weren't too far away. Terrific.

The ork stood over Clio. "As for you, I have a message for you to deliver. Ghostwalker has no interest in the personal feud between your master and Lung, but he does not appreciate your attempts to steal Lung's gift from T'ai Shan. If you choose to persist in this foolishness, then the consequences will be severe."

Clio said nothing but tried to meet his gaze in an attempt at defiance. However, after three seconds she dropped her head and shuffled quietly out the door into the night.

After Clio had left with her tail between her legs, Whitebird turned to us and presented several credsticks. "My associates will take charge of your cargo from here. Consider your services rendered complete. There is also an added bonus for maintaining confidentiality in this matter."

In other words, keep our mouths shut. As Phil and Johnny took their share, Whitebird spoke to them. "While your best days may be behind you, you still have much to contribute, Johnny. My master would be willing to provide you the assistance that Clio's masters would, if you would be watchful of what's abreast in the smuggling community."

Johnny shook his head. "Thank you, but no. After tonight I think it's high time to quit the field and retire."

Whitebird nodded in empathy. "It is wise to understand one's own limitations."

"Well, I'll bite," said Phil. "I'm not ready to quit yet."

"I know some associates in the Denver shadows who may be willing to talk to you," said Whitebird. "What about you, Ms. Cruise?"

I shook my head. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm strictly freelance, and I prefer staying in Seattle. Besides, I've got too much personal baggage to deal with."

"We're already aware of your 'personal baggage,'" said Whitebird. I'm not sure if I liked that or not. "Nevertheless, we respect your wishes, so long as you respect ours. I can, however, offer you transportation back to Seattle, if you wish."

"Do you think it can wait until the morning?" I asked as I stifled a yawn. "It's been a long night, and I could use some shut-eye."

Jong-Won Kim

Q: Why did the Azzie chase his wife?

A: He wanted tequila.*

– Texan joke

"I should have been a dentist."

Dr. Kristine Martin finished her fourth tequila, enjoying the burning sensation as it went down her throat and up to her brain. This was the high point of her daily routine – the rest was what fueled her new drinking habit. For the sixth or seventh time in less than one hour, she wondered how had it all ended up like this.

She should have seen it coming years ago. The constant obsession for profits, the need to stay one step ahead of the competition and the pressure to remain on top of her fellow teammates… She had done her share of questionable experiments – who didn't in this day and age? Dr. Martin had always silenced her concerns about her crumbling ethics by telling herself it was all in the name of progress.

I'm an idiot. Another shot of tequila found its way to her stomach.

This drek is so bad that it's going to kill me one of these days, she thought. Hell, why not? I didn't have the guts to pull the trigger when I had a chance. Now he could hurt her daughter. Their daughter.

"Why did I ever love such a monster?" she whispered to herself.

"Bad day at home?" The English words had a notorious Aztlaner accent.

Dr. Martin looked at the cantina's bartender as he prepared her another shot. Manuel was tanned and chubby, with an amicable smile that invited customers to relax and open up. He probably worked for Aztechnology or Universal Omnitech, just like everyone else in this Central American village.

"You could say so. I have a… rather dysfunctional marriage."

Manuel pointed at the five empty glasses. "That bad?"

"Si… My husband is an abusive bastard who doesn't want to let me go."

"You can always divorce him."

I'd wish. "The problem is that he's a very important man – a dangerous man. He has more than enough influence to make sure it will never happen… and he made it very clear once. So here we are, a happy little couple working side by side."

"Ah, you work at the hill?"

"My husband owns the hill." I bet you didn't see that one coming, Manuel. I'm the Queen of the fraggin' hill and I'm even more of a slave than the lowest corporate employee.

He looked pensive for a few seconds. "Impressive… If I may ask, why are you here? This isn't a bad place, but most of the people up there wouldn't come here for all the pesos in the world."

"I think you just answered yourself."

"If things are so bad, why does he let you come here? Isn't he afraid you could run away?"

"I tried that not so long ago. He took it as an insult and had me hunted like an animal. His men brought me back so that he could break me down, which he did. I'm in Hell and he makes sure that I know he rules it. Even these moments here are just a reminder of what I lost. Friends, prestige, power, family."

"Family? You have kids?"

"A daughter in Tenochtitlan. I'm sure they're feeding her bulldrek about me, molding her into another loyal pawn. When they're done with her, and believe me, they will, she'll worship him just like every other corporate drone here. That is his revenge: He knows I love her so much that I won't do anything as long as he has her secured." And Chavez won't hesitate to kill Gabrielle if ordered to do so… even if he always was Uncle Diego to her as a child. Frag, I hope I'm a nun in my next life.

"I don't think I've ever met your husband, but judging from your words he must be a monster."

"Oh he is, trust me, but he's also an ill man. He stays at home and I take care of him like a good wife." Sarcasm wasn't her strength. Manuel would never fully understand it, anyway, being just another cog in the machine. She finished her drink. "More, please."