A boy on the verge of manhood stood on a corner near the tea-and-coffee stand. He was taller than average, and muscular. His close-cropped reddish-brown hair was receding, though he was young. His expression was blank, and he held himself in a tight, guarded way that could have been grief or the protecting of some physical injury. His right hand was swollen, the knuckles skinned. If it hadnt been for that last detail, the security team might have passed him by. Three women and two men, all in the ballistic armor and helmets of Star Helix.
Morning, the team lead said, and half a beat later the tall man smiled and nodded. He turned to walk away, but the other personnel shifted to block his path.
The man tensed, then made the visible decision to relax. His smile was rueful. Sorry. I was just heading out.
I respect that, sir. We appreciate you taking a moment, the team lead said, placing a hand on the butt of his pistol. Really did a number on your hand.
Yeah. I box.
Can be a good workout. Im going to need to see your ID.
Dont got it on me. Sorry.
Well need to check you against the database, then. That isnt a problem, is it?
Think I got the right to refuse that, dont I?
You do, the team lead said, letting a hint of hardness slip into his voice beneath the casual words. But then wed need to take you to the substation and do the full biometric scan to exclude you from the persons of interest list, and there are a whole lot of very unpleasant people who are in that queue. You dont want to hang out with them. Not if you have someplace you need to be.
The big man seemed to consider this. He glanced back over his shoulder.
Looking for someone? the team lead asked.
Was more thinking there might be some folks looking for me.
So. How do you want to play this?
The man shrugged and held out his hand. The teams data analyst stepped forward and tapped the collector against the thick wrist. The readout stuttered red, then went to solid green. The seconds ticked away.
If theres something you want to tell me, the team lead said, this would be the time.
Nah, the big man said. I think Im good.
Yeah?
You know, he said, good enough.
The team leads hand terminal chimed. He pulled it out with his left hand, his right still on the butt of his gun. The readout had the red border of a flagged profile. The big mans body went very still while they read. It was a long moment before the team lead spoke.
Amos Burton.
Yeah? the big man said. It could have meant, Yes, I killed him, or What about him? All the team lead heard was the affirmation.
Ive got a travel flag on you here. Youre cutting it pretty close.
Amos Burtons eyebrows rose and the corners of his mouth turned down. I am?
Youre shipping out to Luna on the noon launch from Bogot station, Mr. Burton. These apprenticeship programs are tough to get into, and last I heard, they take it mighty poorly if you miss your berth. Might wind up waiting another decade to get back on the list.
Huh, the big man said.
Look, theres a high-speed line about nine blocks north of here. We can take you there if you want.
Erich, you sonofabitch, the big man said. Instead of looking north, he turned to the east, toward the sea and rising sun. Im not Mr. Burton.
Sorry?
Im not Mr. Burton, the man said again. You can call me Amos.
Whatever you want. But I think youd better haul ass out of town if you dont want to get in some serious shit, Amos.
You aint the only one that thinks that. But Im good. I know where the high-speed lines are. I wont miss my ride.
All right then, the team lead said with a crisp nod. Have a better one.
The security team moved on, flowing around the big man like river water around a stone. Amos watched them go, then went to the tea-and-coffee stand, bought a cup of black coffee and a corn muffin. He stood on the corner for a long minute, eating and drinking and breathing the air of the only city hed ever known. When he was done, he dropped the cup and the muffin wrapper into the recycling bin and turned north toward the high-speed line and Bogot station and Luna. And, who knew, maybe the vastness beyond the moon. The sweep of planets and moons and asteroids that humanity had spread to, and where the chances of running into anybody from Baltimore were vanishingly small. A needle in a haystack all of humanity wide.
Amos Burton was a tall, stocky, pale-skinned man with an amiable smile, an unpleasant past, and a talent for cheerful violence. He left Baltimore to its dynamic balance of crime and law, exotics and mundanity, love and emptiness. The number of people who knew him and loved him could be counted on one hand and leave most of the fingers spare, and when he was gone, the city went on without him as if he had never been.