One of the monitors had his back turned. The other jerked his head in surprise. He had a nasty scar across his forehead. “You two aren’t allowed—”
Marten punched him in the throat as the lift closed and headed down. He grabbed the man’s hair and slammed the meaty face down against his up-thrusting knee. Teeth crunched and the monitor slumped onto the floor. When he tried to get up Marten kicked him. Omi took out the second one.
Nadia Pravda the engineer stared at the two of them in wonder and dread.
“They were going to kill you,” Omi told her.
Marten looked at Omi in surprise.
“What?” she said.
“We heard Hansen order it,” Omi lied.
Nadia’s eyes got big and round. She glanced at Marten.
He shrugged.
Omi, who searched the bodies, handed Marten a small pistol. “It’s a projac,” he said. “Shoots drugged ice needles. Knocks a person out in seconds.” Omi checked the monitor’s pocket. “Hello.” He pulled out a small clip and examined the side print. He tossed it to Marten. “Know what that is?”
Marten shook his head.
“Explosive slivers of glass. A perfect murder weapon for use in a space hab.”
“You’re not monitors, are you?” Nadia asked.
Marten stared at her, uncertain how to go about this.
“I’m sure this isn’t about helping me,” she said, “although I do appreciate the help.”
“The lift is slowing down,” warned Omi.
“Look,” she said. “What…” Perspiration glistened on her brow. “You two swear that they were going to kill me?”
“What do you think these are for?” Marten asked, showing her the second clip.
Nadia moaned and hugged herself. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“That doesn’t matter anymore,” Omi said.
“I know that!” she said.
The lift stopped and the door swished open.
She stared at the empty corridor. Then she turned to Marten. Fear twisted her features, turning her skin pale under the shadow of her hat.
“Let’s make a deal,” Marten said.
“What kind of deal?” Nadia asked.
“I want to know why a solar engineer is working for drug lords,” Marten said.
“Not drug lords,” she said. “I work for the monitors.”
“Not for all of them,” Marten said, guessing. “But for the corrupt ones.”
Her shoulders sagged. She nodded. “I needed the credits.”
“I don’t want to know your reason,” Marten said. “Tell me theirs.”
“This is all very interesting,” Omi said. “But what are we going to do about these two? We have to move them.”
“Well?” Marten asked her. “Why did they need you?”
“Because the plant is there,” she shouted. “Why do you think?”
“The plant is where?” Marten asked.
“In the solar panels where I work.”
Marten smiled for the first time. He bet vacc suits were in the solar panels. He needed a vacc suit to spacewalk to the broken-down pod. “Last question.” He shrugged off his jacket and showed her his barcode tattoo. “Have you ever seen one of these before?”
“The monitors have them,” she said. “It tracks them, I think they said.”
“That’s right,” Marten said. “Do you know how they take themselves off the tracking screen?”
A shifty look entered her eyes. “What’s it worth you to know?”
“Nadia,” Marten said. “Either you tell me or there’s no deal. Then you’re on your own again.”
She glanced at the two unconscious monitors, at Omi as he shot each of them with a second projac. The monitors jerked. The one with the forehead scar and the missing teeth opened his eyes. Then the knockout drugs took over and the eyes closed again.
“It’s a little device that Hansen keeps with him,” Nadia said. “I’ve seen him slide it over two of his guards before, when they came to… to help me. One of them said something about it making them invisible. I guess he meant invisible to the station tracker.”
“Good,” Marten said. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”
7.
Marten reentered Smade’s. He needed the device that would deactivate his barcode tattoo. Nadia said Hansen kept it on his person. He hoped she was right.
Before Marten adjusted to the gloom, Kang bellowed a greeting. Marten strode in that direction and a moment later slid into his chair. Hansen had his slender hands wrapped around a frosty glass of blue liquid. He looked dejected, his thinning hair messed up at the sides as if he’d been scratching his head. The massive Kang sat at the table as if he were a king. The dim light shone off the top of his bald head, while his eyes were a little more open than usual. His pupils had started turning glassy.
“Where’s Omi?” Kang asked.
“He’s with a girl,” Marten said. “I figured there’s no sense in trying to find Lance and Vip. So…”
“They’re more of you?” Hansen asked in alarm.
Kang leered. “Poor little informer, always wants to know everything, don’t you?”
Hansen made a peevish gesture.
“What are you having?” Marten asked Hansen.
“Eye-bender,” mumbled the monitor. “Do you want one? It’ll be on me.”
“Sure,” Marten said.
Hansen snapped his fingers and soon a waitress set a tall frosty eye-bender before Marten. He raised his glass to Hansen. Glumly, Hansen raised his and they clicked glasses.
“To old friends,” Marten said.
“I’ll drink to that,” Kang said, picking up his glass and clicking it against theirs.
Kang slurped vodka. Marten sipped, while Hansen took a mouthful of eye-bender and swallowed as if it were a lump of clay.
“Do you know why Hansen looks so sad?” Kang asked.
“Please,” said Hansen. “Do you have to speak so loudly? Must everyone hear?”
Kang leered. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Is that better?”
Hansen sighed, peered at his eye-bender and took another of his doleful swallows.
“He thinks I’ll spill his secrets,” Kang said.
“We’re all Sydney boys,” said Hansen in a dispirited way. “We have to stick together.”
“That’s so right,” Kang said. “So very right.”
Marten wondered how much vodka Kang had put away.
“But if I scratch your back, you little maggot, how are you gonna scratch mine?” asked Kang.
Hansen reached into his pockets and put a small pile of plastic credits on the table. “It’s all I have.”
Kang leered at Marten. “Do you think that’s enough?”
“For what?” asked Marten.
“To buy the 101st’s silence.”
Marten studied the credits and then Hansen. “Isn’t it dangerous what you’re doing? This entire setup?”
“No more dangerous than your profession,” said Hansen.
“Are you trying to say you’re as brave as us?” growled Kang.
“The saints forbid that I dare claim that,” said Hansen. He studied his eye-bender and a grin twitched. “But my profession does pay better and there are more perks.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Kang said. “At least about the better pay.”
Hansen winced, shook his long head and finished his eye-bender. “I must be leaving,” he said.
Kang dropped his hand onto Hansen’s wrist. “Going to get reinforcements are you? Maybe have them take me out somewhere quiet and work me over?”
“Do you think I’m insane?” asked Hansen. “The HBs would come flying to your rescue.”
“That’s right,” Kang said. “Then you’d all be in the pain booth. And then one of you would talk, would break under the pressure. It would be over for you. You’d take a space walk in your skivvies.”
“I know, I know,” said Hansen, sweat beading on his tall forehead.
“You little maggot,” Kang said. “You don’t know at all. You think you’ve finally got me drunk, got me stupid. You really think you can outsmart me. You, a little informer—” Kang spat on the table.