Jo Clayton: The Burning Ground

The Strip was swarming with unhappy tourists, complaining in a melange of langues about having no ‘bots to carry their luggage, about splitcom time booked for days ahead so they couldn’t get reservations on the worldship diverted to pick up the outflow, about Ptak refusal to refund their money, about how bored they were since the screens went black. Complaining at the top of their vocal ranges until the noise was enough to shatter a stone.

Shadith moved through those conversations as she’d moved through the whispered enticements of the holoas before, savoring this cacophony a lot more than the daintier blandishments of the ads. She kept her head down and her eyes lowered to hide the fierce pleasure in them.

Yseyl drew over herself the shape she’d worn at Marrat’s Market and followed Shadow into the lanes, trying to keep the map straight in her mind and her camouflage locked in place.

When she reached The Strip, the sight of Ptaks everywhere burned in her stomach and brought her near a killing rage. It was as well that the only weapon she had was the stunrod taped to her arm. She grew calmer as she picked out those complaints voiced in interlingue and began to understand the implications of taking out those satellites. Killing a few Ptaks was birdseed besides the hurt Shadow had put on them, a wound in the purse much more agonizing than a hole in the body.

Zot’s face was suddenly in her mind. She shivered and jerked her thoughts away from the child. Use Shadow. Use Digby. Learn her way around the starfliers’ world. Keep herself clear of all ties. When ready, call Cerex and use him. Nobody was ever going to crawl under her skin again. Never. Never. Never.

The landing field was chaos when she reached it, harried Ptaks trying and failing to keep a measure of order in the surge offworld. Yseyl chose her time, blurred past security, oriented herself, and, headed for the section of the field where Shadow’s ship was supposed to be. If the hunter had spoken the truth. If it was still there and waiting.

Shadow was seated in an open air lock, a stunrifle across her lap. Yseyl looked up at her. “Well?”

“Hang on a minute, I’ll send the lift down for you.” She got to her feet, vanished inside the lock.

When the lift reached her, Yseyl hesitated a moment, looked over her shoulder at the world she was leaving. She had a choice this time. She could walk away even now, and Shadow wouldn’t stop her.

With a shiver and a touch of anger in her stomachs, she stepped onto the platform. “Take it up,” she said. “Let’s get out of here.” Koans