Page 47 of Throwing Fire

“Med-tech second class?—”

“That ain’t a name.”

“Oh, Sylvie.” She comes fully around the cradle and holds her hand out to me. “Pleased to meet you, Mister Snow. I mean, it really is an honor.”

I shake. “Pleasure’s mine. Can you close me up, Sylvie?”

“Oh sure, but, um, Doctor Jacklan?—”

“Can go fuck himself,” I say with finality. “Bring everything you need, Sylvie. We’re headin’ out. When’s your shift end?”

“Six. I just came on.”

Perfect. I’ve got myself a nurse for the day. By the time Sylvie’s off shift, either Doc Gray will have arrived, or I won’t need a fucking nurse anymore.

“Two things, Sylvie,” I say. “One, it’s just Snow. Forget the Mister.And two, if we’re goin’ anywhere, I’m gonna need somethin’ over my lap.”

She blushes all the way to her glossy, dark brown curls. “I am so sorry.”

“No problem.”

She rummages through a storage cupboard behind me. Pulls out a folded, silvery cloth. She spreads it over the cradle, so I’m covered from waist to toes, and clips it in place. “There you go.” She messes around in the cupboard for another moment, pulling out several white plaz boxes. She stows them under the cradle. “Okay, we’re all set. Where are we going?”

I give her the address.

“Oh, that’s not very far away,” she says. Which means we’re not at HQ. Tyng Tower in Hemos is a good half-hour from Kez’s place. We must be somewhere in Nock City. “I was going to take a skimmer, but how do you feel about a walk? It’s such a nice day.”

Whoever’s gunning for me has already taken out one skimmer, so another one probably doesn’t afford any protection. And no one is going to expect me to take a jaunt through Nock in a float-bed. “Sure.”

Sylvie’s right. It’s not far to Kez’s place. And it is a nice day.

CHAPTER 19

Gig and a herd of giant, hopping fuzzballs greet us at the Warren.

As soon as Sylvie maneuvers the float-bed through the inner doors, I hear the scrabbling of paws on the edge of the cradle. Bunker, who’s an impressive jumper, is the first up onto my lap. When the covering sags into the wobbly goo, Bunker looks as offended as only a mutant bunny can look, and hops back down, flicking his hind feet at me in disgust. Ronnie and Chalk are up next. Ronnie’s not deterred by the sloshy surface and flops across my knees. Chalk’s a little more cautious, and hunches into a meter-round ball on my shins, glaring at me with her blue eyes so like Kez’s, until I tap my fingers on the edge of the cradle to invite her up. She wriggles up my legs, worming around Ronnie, until she reaches my thigh. She hits the damaged one first, feels me flinch and changes course to flop against my left hip. Kez’s rabbits are almost as endearing as she is, and their sensitivity to human body language is astounding. I scratch Chalk behind the ears as Sylvie steers me through the house.

I direct Sylvie to the Control Center, a room off the centralgreenhouse, which houses most of Gig’s impressive collection of gadgetry. It’s also the room where I’ve installed my surveillance equipment.

Gig taps the long interior wall as we enter the room. The flexypane flickers and several displays pop up. Gig hands me a palmtop, which I sync as I scan the displays. Disparate dots on the map are Kez and Chiara, Ape and Duncan. Gig was tracking all of Kez’s little crew long before I came on the scene. Kid’s a natural. Ape and Duncan are at opposite ends of the city. Probably on runs. Kez and Chi are together, in the city center. Probably at the showroom of the Crackle-planner Kez dislikes so much.

I check four panes of data that aren’t Gig’s. These are mine. Sensors internal and external, readings on the air temperature, density and composition, same for the house’s water supply. The first hit on Chiara was a viral bomb, so there’s no such thing as being too cautious.

All of the readings are in the green. No one has tried to fuck with the Warren.

My eyes flick back to one of Gig’s panes. To a blue dot on the Nock map that shows where Duncan is. With him feeding our enemies information, guess they don’t feel the need to try for us where we live. Smart play, given how I’ve fortified the place.

“Dunk out for the day?” I ask Gig.

“Yeah, he’s got a late run, but he’ll be here in the morning. You need him?”

“Nope. It can wait.” Let the fucker have a few more hours of life.

I check a last pane, which looks black to anyone but me. The cat’s eye that a chop-doc on Cayster implanted in my cornea lets me see the ultraviolet data. It’s a double feed. One from theInfinity. The other from my place by the river. Bunch of messages on the ship-feed. None from Payton or Acker, which are all I care about at this particular moment. The feed from my house isn’t green – if anything it’s a very dim purple in my sight – but the effect is the same. No one has tried to fuck with my place, either.

They were waiting for us to come out in the open.

“What’s the ETA on Kez and Chi?” I ask Gig. The map’s good on location but not on speed or direction. All the dots are stationary until the map updates itself. Which it only does once a minute.

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