‘And with plenty of backup by the looks of it,’ Scat added, gesturing at the Earth delegates who were still coming and going. ‘My name’s Scat.’
‘I’m Mary,’ she said putting her e-reader down. ‘What do you do at the House?’
‘I’m an assistant to Terrance Nettles—it’s just a temporary thing, really,’ Scat added. ‘He needed an extra pair of hands to cope with you lot, and my contract on Prebos had just finished so I was free. And, of course I can read and write.’
Scat had learned a long time ago that, were he was to lie, he should stick as close to the truth as possible. That way you don’t contradict yourself. The lies should be simple ones. In any case, he wasn’t trying to get the inside track on the delegation; he just wanted to learn about a product that was on sale to people with money to burn. The neuralnet’s capabilities and related health warnings wouldn’t be a secret.
‘So what will you being doing once we finish here?’ she asked, disarmed by Scat’s apparent humility.
‘I’ll probably go back to Earth. My father wants me to join the family business. He’s even offered me a neuralnet implant if I do, but I’m not so sure.’
‘Not so sure about what: about going into the business, or the implant?’
‘The implant. I’m not so keen on brain surgery.’
Mary laughed.
‘It doesn’t require brain surgery. Who told you that?’
‘Oh, I just assumed. We’re in the backwoods out here, as you’ll be finding out later. There’s little on the Trevonnet about the neuralnet.’
‘It’s an outpatient procedure, Scat. 30 minutes, tops. Some people feel a little wheezy afterwards, but it doesn’t last—you just don’t operate machinery or perform any important programming for 24 hours, that’s all. It’s usually the optic nerve readjustment that gets people.’
‘So no deep cuts, then?’
‘No, not deep ones. Just some needles and a conductor attached to the base of the skull, just under the skin.’
‘Ah, well there you go—I’m not so keen on either. Is it reversible?’
‘I don’t think so. I’m too junior to qualify for one, but, from what I hear, no, it isn’t. That’s what makes it a difficult decision for some.’
‘So you’re stuck with it once you get one?’
She nodded.
‘Yes, you are, but the people who use them do swear by them. They genuinely don’t regret it. You’ve just got to be a bit careful about the information overload.’
‘Can you switch from one net to another, say if I left Trevon and went off to Constitution?’
‘Of course! It’s just a matter of dropping one call plan for another.’
‘So it doesn’t require a second implant, then.’
‘Heavens, no. If you had two implants, you’d end up with more nanopellium neurons than biological ones!’
Scat eased off for a moment or two. He pretended to mull over what she had told him, while trying to work out what it was that attracted him to her. Maybe it was the intelligence in her eyes, or perhaps it was the smile. Maybe her voice. Scat couldn’t be sure. It could be more basic than that: after six weeks on Prebos, at least she wasn’t a he.
‘They’re extremely expensive,’ Mary said, bringing him back to the light voice. ‘I doubt you’d want to own two, even if you thought you needed them.’
‘Can they be upgraded?’
‘Yes. You just buy into a better call plan.’
‘I mean, if they come out with a better model. How would you upgrade the hardware?’
Mary shook her head very slowly.
‘I don’t think you do,’ she replied. ‘Actually, I don’t really know.’ Mary’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as if she were calling up a memory or two. A slight, vertical frown appeared between her eyes but then completely disappeared. ‘From what I hear most of the upgrading is done with software upgrades and information packages. I haven’t heard anything about upgrading the implant itself. I suspect they’ll just offer you better encryption, or wider coverage. If you want an upgrade, I think you just buy into a better plan! Once it’s fitted, I think you’re stuck with it.’
Mary tipped her cup all the way up to take the final, sugary sip of her coffee, but Scat didn’t want her to be off just yet.
‘Can I order you a refill, Mary?’ he asked, hoping to use the extra cup as an excuse to go sit at her table.
But Mary’s graf bleeped. She looked at it.
‘Sorry but I have to go meet the Ambassador. Another time, perhaps. It was nice meeting you, Scat.’
Scat pushed his chair back a little in readiness to stand up.
‘Likewise Mary, and thanks for explaining things. We’ll probably bump into each other again at the House; maybe I could get you a coffee then?’ He felt himself urging her to say yes.
Mary hesitated for a short, though noticeable, moment but couldn’t find a reason to brush him off.
‘OK, that’d be nice.’
OK. That’ll do. For now. Don’t push.
‘Do you have a business card or something?’ he asked.
She did. An electronic one.
‘I’ll send it over.’
As she made to leave, Scat stood up, pulled a Trevon House card from his breast pocket and handed it to her. Mary looked at it before putting it away in her folder. She then said goodbye with a smile and headed out into reception.
As Scat was working out whether it would be worth sticking around to talk to anyone else, her details arrived on his graf. Scat glanced down at it.
‘Mary Sheffield, Junior Assistant to Samuel Cohen, Ambassador at Large, ISRA. Temporary Trevonnet ID: 24331911.’
The photo didn’t do her justice.
57
Later that afternoon, as he composed his promised note to landlord’s agent, Scat received a mail from Marvin, asking him to join April, Thomas, Nettles and himself for dinner.
He accepted. It was either that, heat up some leftover vegetable soup, or eat alone in the House canteen: he had forgotten to shop that week.
The venue was an Asian restaurant that opened out onto Third Avenue. It was more a converted shop, packed with diners sitting on low stools around circular tables, covered in paper and clear plastic sheeting with chopsticks stuffed into tumblers in the centre of each table. The lights burned bright, the decoration was non-existent.
Out on the street, and to one side of the entrance, a Chinese cook was hastily topping up rice-filled clay pots with unfamiliar vegetables and strips of pseudo-chicken made with processed arctic salamander.
Scat slipped past him and found Marvin and his party squeezed up against the back wall close to the kitchen entrance. The place was small but somehow it was catering to around 60 diners. Scat had to be careful making his way to the table.
‘Well, this is authentic!’ Scat said above the din, taking a stool between April and Nettles.
‘It sure is,’ Marvin replied. ‘Rough and ready, just like they still are in Hong Kong. April found this place within days of us arriving in-system. As you know, Asians have a nose for good food. They certainly see past the décor,’ he joked. ‘Sometimes I think they only see the plate in front of them.’
April gave him a friendly shove.
‘So the food’s good?’ Scat asked.
‘First class,’ Nettles replied.
Scat doubted Nettles knew enough about the place to be sure.
‘Somehow I didn’t take you for a street-level eater, Terrance,’ he said. ‘I had the impression you were more the dinner club type. The “exclusive, no trolls allowed” sort.’
Nettles played hurt.
‘Well thanks, Scat. Actually I only eat in places like this in the run up to elections.’
‘But it’s not even your district,’ Scat replied.
‘He’s kidding, Scat.’ April said, scolding Nettles with her chopsticks. ‘He’s often down here with us trolls.’
‘No offence meant, April.’
‘None taken, Scat. What are you going to eat?’
Waiters were already delivering food to the table. Scat was a few minutes late, and as is the custom in a place like this, the ordering and eating was always done quickly. He ordered pupae paste wanton noodles and the “chicken” clay pot rice.
‘Thanks for inviting me, Marv. What’s the occasion?’
Marvin looked across at Nettles.
‘There needs to be an occasion for friends to get together?’ he asked.
‘I guess not. Anyway, thanks.’
Scat’s food arrived in no time at all, and he was able to catch up while the others ordered a second helping of local fish sprinkled with roasted crickets. It was good food, Scat thought; the place was certainly worth remembering. He asked the waiter for a copy of the menu. It appeared on his graf.
A short time later, across a table littered with paper towels, discarded chopsticks and used plates, they haggled over the bill. Nettles leaned into Scat.
‘Actually, Marvin wasn’t being entirely truthful about why you’re here,’ he said softly. ‘It’s not just a friendly. We wanted to discuss Pierce—the evidence and what to do with it’
That caught Scat short. He had already drunk a half bottle of wine.
‘OK. Here?’
‘No,’ Nettles replied. ‘The Sports Club. We’ll finish off this wine,’ he continued, uncorking another bottle, ‘and then we’ll go meet some people.’
58
As his dinner companions stepped out onto the street, Scat stopped off at the men’s room. By the time he was ready to catch up with them, the tone of the evening was changing
Up ahead, half a dozen men crowded his friends against a shop window. The road wasn’t that well lit, but Scat could see Nettles was shielding April, doing his best to act passively, despite one of the men, the biggest, pushing a finger into his chest. Marvin was talking to the man, trying to calm him down, but Thomas was bunching his fists, which wasn’t a good sign.
Scat was already picking out the ones who fidgeted the least, and appeared the most confident. It didn’t matter that he made the right guess; he just had to make one. What happened next depended more on commitment than it did judgment. He picked out two as he closed the gap at a fast walk.
Marvin tried to get between Nettles and Scat’s first pick, man one, a wide-headed, solid jawed guy, possibly the leader of the group, but Marvin’s effort was wasted. Man one ignored him and drove a hard-looking punch into Nettles face, knocking him to his knees.
April screamed. Marvin tried to stop the guy from throwing a second punch, but a man with a mop of black hair on his head and beer on his breath pushed him to one side. Scat had already marked him as man two.
One of the men on the edge of the group sensed Scat was approaching. He turned to face him and threw up a hand to block his path. Scat’s response was immediate.
Grab hand, Crush. Pull in. Head across nose. Walk past.
One step later, Scat was behind man one. Man one was already off-balance; he was bringing a foot back to kick Nettles as he knelt on the pavement.
Grab hair, pull back and down. Chop across throat.
Man one’s legs began to give way.
Head to glass window.
The window shook but didn’t break. Man one bounced backwards, falling to the ground, his head hitting the pavement with a sickening pop.
Man two grabbed Scat’s left arm from behind.
Turn fast, step in, curl fingers. Two extended finger joints to right eye. Thrust hard.
The eyeball burst and man two screamed, pulling his head backwards, bringing both hands up to his face.
Scat saw a second opening, one that was just too tempting to pass up.
Heel of hand to Adam’s apple, step back.
Man two staggered a few steps and collapsed to his knees, unable to breathe or see clearly.
Face off.
Scat swung around to face the men whom he hadn’t bothered to pick out. They hesitated, anxiously looking beyond him to one of their own bent over the kerb. The man was holding his throat with a hand. With the other, he covered the burst eye. He gasped between constricted wails of pain. Their other two colleagues were lying prostrate on the floor.
They faltered and fled.
‘You OK, April?’ Scat asked, his voice sounding a little laboured.
She said nothing, her face in her hands. Marvin was helping Nettles back to his feet. Thomas looked on in stunned silence, trembling slightly.
Scat felt his chest rising and falling as the adrenaline continued to flow, priming him for more action.
Not finished.
He stepped calmly across the sidewalk to check on the two who lay face down on the pavement. One of them was comatose, but the other was regaining consciousness, gingerly shaking his head. Scat reached down, pulled his head up by the hair and slammed it back down onto the pavement. He then returned to man two, the one with the burst eyeball, who lay on his back, still gasping for air. He reached down for him, gripping his shirt at the shoulder with one hand, and a mass of hair with the other.
April, fearing for the worst, shouted for him to stop. Marvin tried pulling him back, but Scat shrugged him off.
‘I’m not going to hurt this one, April. Marv, get your hands off me.’
Marvin eased off a little, allowing Scat to haul the man up so he could talk to him.
‘What was that all about, then?’ he asked.
There was no response. He was still trying to suck in air.
‘I’ll ask you again, but then it’ll be your face that meets the pavement. Do you understand?’
‘Yes,’ the man croaked.
Scat put his mouth closer to the man’s ear and spoke.
‘What was that all about, then?’ he asked before pushing him back out to arms length, ready to slap him again.
‘Just … hassling … Nettles,’ the man replied in an increasingly raspy, almost inaudible voice.
Scat had to listen hard. He pulled him in closer.
‘Why?’ he asked.
‘He’s a … a traitor.’
‘And so?’
‘He’s causing … all this trouble.’ The man gasped again. He tried to put a hand up to his burst and burning eye, but Scat tugged more strongly at the man’s hair, pulling his face upward. He tugged the man’s head back and leaned over him.
‘Not good enough,’ Scat said, quietly.
Head to face. Let go.
‘Aaaagh, damn!’ the man cried, falling to the floor again.
‘Agh damn, nothing, arsehole. Why’d you do it?’
‘Cos we were paid to. We’re out of contract. We’re broke. For Jeeze’s sake don’t do that again!’
This time Scat let Marvin pull him away a step. Only he wasn’t quite finished. He stooped towards the man to ask another question, a hand ready to slap his face.
‘Who paid you?’
‘Don’t know,’ the man replied, sobbing. ‘Some guy spoke to Henri there.’ He pointed blindly across the pavement. ‘We were in the lounge bar … across the street.’
‘When?’
‘I dunno. ... Maybe 30 minutes ago,’ he replied.
Apparently, someone had told them to go enjoy ourselves; he had said they should go work off some frustration. Whomever it was also said that Nettles had it coming and they’d be doing lots a people a favour.
‘A mistake, wasn’t it?’ Scat said, implying it would have been better for them to go home instead
‘Yes. I know. Please, let me go. Get me to a hospital!’
Marvin touched Scat’s shoulder, pointing down the street. A police cruiser was making its way towards them, its coachwork flashing blue and red. Someone from the restaurant must have called it in.
Nettles pulled out his House ID.
‘I think you can let me do the talking, Scat. Please?’ he said, grimacing as he mopped blood from his cheek.
Scat said nothing, but his shoulders eased, and he began to relax. Nettles waited
until Scat nodded, finally, and then he walked across to the cruiser to greet the officers.
Marvin put his arm around April and pulled her close. He put a finger under her chin and raised it, to give her a reassuring look, but she wasn’t looking at him: instead, she was staring wide-eyed at Scat, clearly unsettled by what she had just seen him do. He could understand why.
Nettles brushed the street dust off his trouser knees as he returned from talking to the police.
‘We’ve got to go with them. They want statements,’ he said, throwing a thumb over his shoulder at the police cruiser. ‘An ambulance is on its way. They’ll make their arrests at the hospital.’
A police sergeant showed them into the cruiser’s rear holding compartment. They clambered on board for the journey downtown.
Thomas gaped at Scat, still in awe of the savagery that had come from nowhere and was gone again just as quickly. Nettles nursed his bruised cheek. April stared out the cruiser’s window, avoiding Scat’s roaming eyes. Marvin fiddled with his graf.
Scat just wanted to make sure he was making a correct assumption:
‘So, the meeting’s off, then?’
59
At seven am the next morning, Scat turned up for his House Duties briefing feeling a little stiff. It had been some time since he had put so much effort into a few punches. He had pulled a muscle in his right shoulder.
The incident was TV news that morning. He had seen the same item twice, once in the elevator of his condominium and the other while eating his breakfast in the House canteen.
They portrayed the unnamed hero as a “have a go” local who had stepped in to save a House Representative from having his butt handed to him by some drunken thugs. They were wrong to think he was a local, of course, but Nettles had asked the police to keep his companion’s details quiet: he didn’t want his witnesses being intimidated.
The attack was also condemned by the Earth Delegation, the police commissioner and the Go Down City mayor who asked everyone, in his trademark, homespun manner, to “leave the rowdy behaviour at home and let the talking heads do their thing”.
After the briefing, Scat wandered across to Nettles’ office. His House duties wouldn’t become an issue until after the House closed down for the day, and with the Earth Delegation in town, it was quite likely the House would remain open for longer than usual. Meanwhile he was available for his normal duties, attending to Nettles during the technical session.