PANDORA

Chapter 4

I held the bag of leftovers close to my side as I made my way home. Wraith's young, bright sun was heading for the horizon, spreading darkness along the streets, and I wanted to be safe in my apartment before night fell in earnest.

A lot of the busted up, pitiful shop stalls were closing for the night, but other things were coming alive, filling the space around me with noise and presence. I shrank in on myself as a pair of shutters banged open nearby. Next to me the lights flickered on in a pawn shop, and a short way down the sidewalk, someone let out a growl of frustration. Deep, triumphant laughter followed the sound.

"Sorry, my friend," I heard a voice say as I neared the spot. "Looks like your luck's run out."

I glanced over, peering through the crowd and spotting a shell station. Ugh, shells. I didn't play shells anymore; couldn't make enough money off it. Generally the game runner let you win for a while, let you build up confidence, and I was pretty damn good at following the shells. Problem was, they let your confidence get high enough that you were willing to blow every cent you'd made, and then they started cheating. I'd watched enough games to know when to stop playing, and only got involved in a game if I needed a bit of pocket change.

I might never need to do any of this stuff again... The thought sent a tingle along my nerves, a mixture of uncertainty and excitement. I could finally leave Wraith behind, if I dared. This place would never stop haunting me, I knew that, but getting away from it would help. It had to.

The buildings crowded together all the more as I headed out of the center of town. In the slums, the tenements huddled together, shoved in like sardines in a tin can. Stripped off siding and dark, broken windows made it look halfway to a ghost town, but other windows glowed with faint light, indicating life. I huddled down, pulled my hood over my head, and hurried past the doorway of the busiest brothel in the area. They'd tried to recruit me once already, and there was no chance in hell that I'd ever put myself through that again.

With my hood down low, I couldn't see much around me. I only realized the crowd had closed in on me when I struck a big, sturdy body and bounced off. I stumbled, almost fell, almost dropped my bag, but a hand closed around my upper arm and yanked me upright.

"Let go," I mumbled, trying to break the vise-like grip.

"Shut up, kid," a voice snarled. I glanced up once, catching a glimpse of a huge, hulking silhouette. "And watch where you're fucking going, hear me?"

I dug my heels in and kept trying to pull away. "I'm sorry."

"Hey..." He peered at me, squinting down into my hood, and suddenly I recognized him: the brothel owner. "What you look like under there, kid?"

Despite a decent height of a meter seventy, I tended to look young, and being so thin didn't help that impression. I knew this place had a particular subset of clientele that loved the young ones, whether they only looked it or not.

Fear and adrenaline crashed into my heart like a lightning strike, given me a sudden pulse of strength. I yanked free of the owner's grip and bolted, hell for leather, down the sidewalk, crashing into other people as I ran. Angry yells followed my progress but I didn't stop, not for anything. There were brothels in every city on Wraith that didn't care much whether you signed up willingly or not. I had no desire to find out whether this was one of them.

I didn't slow down until I reached the street of tenements where my own little shithole sat squeezed in among all the others. It was one of the larger buildings on the street, but that didn't mean larger rooms; the landlord had cut the place up into even smaller rooms to stuff more people in and get more rent. It was also the cheapest building on the street, which meant some days I had to deal with not having running water or working power in exchange for having a bit of money around for the occasional luxury item.

It sucked, but it beat some of my past living arrangements by a long shot.

I slid my hood back and reached into one of my pockets for my keycards. Imagine, Xan, living on a nice clean starship rather than in this place. I sighed and slipped into the first floor hallway. Now that was a lovely thought. I wouldn't have to worry about brothels or cheats or people who might otherwise hurt me.

Wrapped up in these pleasant thoughts, I didn't realize Zlane was in the hallway until my gaze connected with his. Oh shit. Zlane was out here a lot, since his wife tended to kick him out when he drank too much. I'd learned early on that it was best to avoid looking at him directly at these times. He regarded me with bleary, bloodshot eyes, his upper lip curling into a disdainful sneer.

"What you lookin' at, skinny bitch?" he growled.

"Nothing."

"You callin' me nothing, eh?"

Oh, fucking hell. "No. I'm not calling you anything. Goodnight."

I hurried down the hall, my steps quickening as I heard Zlane heave himself up from the floor. He's drunk and slow, I'll be fine, I just have to get to my apartment... But Zlane wasn't slow tonight. I heard his footsteps pounding the dirty carpet behind me. Terrified, I made a lunge for the stairs-and howled as something caught the end of my braid, bringing me to an abrupt and painful halt.

"Where you think you're goin', huh? Tryin' to get away from old Zlane, stick bitch?"

The part of me that had skipped out on survival instincts wanted to ask if that was the extent of his insult repertoire. Fortunately, a smarter part of me was in control. Desperate, I whipped around, wincing as a few strands of hair yanked loose, and swung the bag of leftovers at him. He stumbled and swore as plastic broke, spraying him with leftover beef and chicken. I didn't wait around. Heart in my throat, I bounded up the stairs, grappling at the railing to haul myself up and cursing myself for getting a place on the fourth floor.

Banging and swearing echoed in the stairwell beneath me. I pushed myself upwards, the muscles in my legs burning from the effort. Thin and malnourished as I was, I didn't really have the strength for this.

I reached the top landing and shoved at the door, stumbling out into the hallway beyond. As I ran, I shoved my hand into my pocket, grabbing the butterfly knife. With a flick I opened it, and not a moment too soon. Zlane caught up, his fingers closing on my arm-already bruised from the rough handling of the brothel owner-and yanked me back to face him. As I spun, I brought the knife up and slashed, heedless of my aim.

The blade sank deep into the flesh up his upper arm and he let go of me, spit flying from his lips as he swore in outrage and pain. I sprang away and scampered to my door. My hands shook as I tried to slide the keycard home. C'mon, c'mon! Zlane was recovering, straightening up and removing his bloodied hand from the gaping wound on his arm. Then he was coming for me, reaching for me, blood dripping from his fingertips. I swallowed a terrified shriek and made another attempt on the lock.

The door flew open under my desperate hands and I almost fell into my apartment. I grabbed the side of the door to right myself, then quickly slammed it shut, throwing home the extra bolt lock I'd installed. Gasping, tears running down my cheeks, I leaned my back against the door, pressing all my weight into it. I jumped a little as Zlane's fist slammed into the door but forced myself to remain where I was.

Oh god, hold, please hold, I thought, as the cheap synth-wood jumped and creaked under Zlane's abuse.

"Get out here, you ding-brained whore!" Zlane shouted, his fist hitting the door with each word. "Come on, bitch! I'm gonna make you pay for this!"

I gripped the hilt of my bloodied knife and continued to press my back against the door. He's about a meter eighty, give or take, so if I have to go for the throat...I eyed the empty air in front of me, lifting my knife to about the height I'd have to go for. Of course, then I'd really have to run from this shithole, but I would not-would not-not again, not ever again. My teeth started to chatter with fear as some of my worst memories rose from the back of my mind.

A soft chirrup sounded between bangs. I glanced across the room, at the cages sitting next to each other. A spark of courage lit the darkened walls of my heart as I gazed upon Marbles and Cake, my dearest-my only-friends. Marbles stretched her wings and clambered down off her perch, catching the wire bars of the cage with her beak to swing herself around. I managed a wan smile as she poked the tip of her beak through the bars as if trying to reach me.

The banging continued for what felt like hours, though in reality it was probably no more than fifteen minutes. Finally Zlane stopped, threw a few more obscenities at my door, and stormed away. I sank to the floor, tears of relief welling in my eyes.

"Mommy," Marbles chirped.

"Hey, babies," I managed to warble through a throat tight with fear. "Sorry-sorry for all the noise."

I closed my knife and tucked it away in my pocket before climbing to my feet. Wobbling a little, I made my way to the cages and opened the padlocks on them. It might sound cruel, padlocking their cages, but millennia of breeding had made most parrots even smarter than they once were, and Marbles had on occasion fashioned tools to aid in her escape from her cage. She would then let Cake out, if he hadn't figured it out for himself. Padlocks were, for the moment, the only thing I'd found that that they couldn't thwart.

Padlocks removed, I opened the normal cage latches and held out my hands for my birds. As soon as Marbles' clawed feet curled around my finger, my tears started falling again. Cake march-waddled up my arm and onto my shoulder, to preen the loose strands of my hair; he had a bit of a thing for grooming anyone he could reach-well, anyone he actually liked.

"No shoulder bird, Cake," I scolded, but without much conviction.

Marbles perched on my wrist and I drew her against my chest, where I could scritch her head and neck. Cake continued to preen my hair, stretching up to tug a few more strands loose from my braid, and slowly but surely my tears stopped. My fear began to subside, though there was still a kernel of it, sitting heavy in my stomach like a rock.

"Just another day in the slums, huh, guys?" I said with a bitter laugh. "Same shit, different day. Not that I'd want to ever return home, but I wish I could get away from this somehow."

And then it came back to me, what I'd forgotten in those moments of terror: Captain Chui's offer. I reached into one of my pockets and pulled out the keycard and the nanotech pills. It would be a risk, I warned myself. So far it seems like everything Captain Chui said has been genuine, but you could still be falling into a trap. On the other hand, things weren't getting any better here. I'd been trying for a decade, struggling on my own, and though I had good periods here and there, they lasted months, not years. And never stayed good.

I was only twenty-eight. Thanks to life-ex, I had a good long life ahead of me. Did I really want to spend it like this?

"No," I said aloud. "No, I really don't."

I carefully set both birds on top of their cages and headed into the tiny square of tile that my landlord had the nerve to call a kitchen. A mini-fridge sat on the counter. I opened it and grabbed a bottle of water-one of the precious bottles I kept for days when I couldn't bear to stomach the local tap water. My hands shook a little as I cracked it open, popped out the first two pills, and downed them with a quick swig.

There. I was committed, and I felt oddly better now that I'd made the decision. I headed into my small, closet-sized bedroom and grabbed my battered suitcase and even more worn duffle bag from under the sagging bed. The duffle I dragged into the living room and dropped in front of Marbles' and Cake's cages.

"Road trip," Marbles chortled, and Cake did a few excited spins atop his cage.

"Yeah," I agreed, grinning at their antics. "Our wildest road trip yet."