Walter Williams - The Praxis

Caro went on to explain that her family was forbidden to be in the Civil Service for three generations, both as punishment for what her parents had done and to minimize the chance to steal. But as a Peer, she had an automatic ticket to one of the Fleet academies, and so it had been planned for her to go there.

“I don’t know,” she went on, shaking her head. “I can’t see myself in the Fleet. Taking orders, wearing uniforms…under all that discipline. I think I’d go crazy in ten days.”

The Fleet, Gredel thought. The Fleet could carry you away from Spannan, through the wormhole gates to the brilliant worlds beyond. Zanshaa, Esley, Earth…The vision was dazzling. For that, she could put up with uniforms. “I’d do it in a second,” she said.

Caro gave her a look. “Why?”

Gredel thought she may as well emphasize the practical advantages. “You get food and a place to sleep. Medical and dental care. And theypay you for it.”

Caro gave a disdainful snort. “Youdo it, then.”

“They wouldn’t let me in. My mother has a criminal record.”

The Fleet had their pick of recruits: there were plenty of people who wanted those three free meals per day. They checked the background of everyone who applied.

Unless, Gredel thought, someone she knew could pull strings. A Peer, say.

They took a taxi back to Caro’s building, but when the driver approached it, Caro ducked into the backseat, pulled a bewildered Gredel down atop her and shouted at him to keep going.

“What’s the matter?” Gredel asked.

“A collector. Someone come to get money from me. The doorman usually chases them off, but this one’s really persistent.”

Apparently, living on credit wasn’t as convenient as Caro let on.

The driver let them off at a loading dock in the alley behind the building. Caro’s codes opened the door.

There were little motorized carts in the entryway, for use when people moved furniture or other heavy belongings.

They took the freight elevator to Caro’s floor and looked for something to eat. There wasn’t much, just biscuits and an old piece of cheese. “Have you got food at your place?” Caro asked.

Gredel hesitated. “Yes,” she said, “but we’ve got Antony too.”

“And who’s that?”

Gredel told her.

“He comes near me,” Caro said with a disgusted look, “I’ll kick him in the balls.”

“That wouldn’t stop him for long,” Gredel said, and shivered. “He’d still slap your face off.”

“We’ll see.” Caro’s lip curled again.

“I’m serious. You don’t want to get Antony mad. I bet even Lamey’s boys would have a hard time with him.”

Caro shook her head. “This is crazy,” she laughed. “You know anyone who could buy us some food?”

“Well. There’s Lamey.”

“He’s your boyfriend, right? The tall one?”

“He carried you up here last night.”

“So Ialready owe him.” Caro laughed. “Will he mind if I mooch dinner off him? I’ll pay him back, first of the month.”

Gredel called Lamey on her phone. He was amused by their dilemma and said he’d be there soon.

Gredel made coffee while they waited, and served it in the paper-thin cups.

“So tell me about Lamey,” Caro said.

Gredel told her about Lamey’s business. “He’s linked, you know? He knows people, and he moves stuff around. From the port, from other places. Makes it available to people at good prices. When people can’t get loans, he loans them money.”

“Aren’t the clans’ patrons supposed to do that?”

“Sometimes they will. But, you know, those mid-level clans, they’re in a lot of businesses themselves, or their friends and allies are. So they’re not going to loan money for someone to go into competition with them. And once the new businesses start, they have to be protected you know, against the people who are already in that business, so Lamey and his people do that too.”

“It’s the Peers who are supposed to protect people,” Caro said.

“Caro,” Gredel said, “you’re the first Peer I’ve ever seen outside of a video. Peers don’t come to places like the Fabs.”

Caro gave a cynical grin. “So Lamey just doesgood things, right? He’s never hurt anybody, he just helps people.”

Gredel hesitated. They were entering an area she tried not to think about. She thought about the boy Moseley, the dreadful dull squelching thud as Lamey’s boot went into him. The way her own head rang after Lamey slapped her that time.

“Sure,” she said finally, “he’s hurt people. People who stole from him, mostly. But he’s really not bad,” she added quickly. “He’s not one of the violent ones, he’ssmart. He uses his intelligence.”

“Uh-huh,” Caro said. “So has he used his…intelligenceon you?”

Gredel felt herself flush. “A few times,” she said quickly. “He’s got a temper. But he’s always sweet when he cools down, and buys me things.”

“Uh-huh,” Caro said.

Gredel tried not to bristle at Caro’s attitude. Hitting was what boyfriendsdid. It was normal. The point was whether they felt sorry afterward.

“Do you love him?” Caro asked.

Gredel hesitated again. “Maybe,” she said.

“I hope at least he’s good in bed.”

Gredel shrugged. “He’s all right.” Sex seemed to be expected of her, because she was thought to be beautiful and because she went with older boys who had money. It had never been as pleasurable as she’d been led to expect, but was nevertheless pleasurable enough so she didn’t want to quit.

“Lamey’s too young to be good in bed,” Caro declared. “You need an older man to show you what sex is really about.” Her eyes sparkled and she gave a diabolical giggle. “Like my Sergei. He was really the best! He showed meeverything about sex.”

Gredel blinked. “Who was Sergei?”

“Jake Biswas’s wife’s sister was married to Sergei. We were always sneaking away to be together. That’s what all the fighting in the family was about. That’s why I had to move to Maranic Town.”

“How much older was he?”

“In his forties somewhere.”

Black, instant hatred descended on Gredel. She could have torn Sergei to ribbons with her nails, with her teeth. “That’s sick,” she said. “That man is disgusting.”

Caro gave a cynical laugh. “I wouldn’t talk if I were you,” she said. “How old is Lamey? What kind of scenes doeshe get you into?”

Gredel felt as if Caro’s words had slapped her across the face. Caro gave her a smirk.

“Right,” she said. “We’re models of stability and mental health, we are.”

Gredel decided to change the subject. “This is lovely,” she said, and held up the cup.

Caro looked at it without expression. “I inherited that set. That’s the Sula family badge, those three crescents.”

“What do they mean?”

“They mean three crescents. If they mean any more than that, nobody told me.”

Caro’s mood had sweetened by the time Lamey turned up. She thanked him for taking her home the previous night, and took them both to a restaurant so exclusive that Caro had to give a thumbprint in order to enter. There were no real dinners on the menu, just a variety of small plates that everyone at the table shared. Gredel had never heard of some of the ingredients. Some of the dishes were wonderful, some weren’t. Some were simply incomprehensible.

Caro and Lamey got along well, to Gredel’s relief. Caro filled the air with vivacious talk, and Lamey joked and deferred to her. Toward the end of the meal he reached into his pocket, and Gredel’s nerves tingled when she saw the med injector.

“Panda asked me if you wanted any more of the endorphin,” Lamey said.