CHAPTER SIX

 

Tristan stood just inside Smalley’s exit.

He had finally escaped the NOK table, leaving Padre seeking another victim, showing no sign that anything had happened.

The NOK piece was in Tristan's pocket. He looked at the exit, at the door scanners that checked for weapons, and at the beefy black-visored security guards watching everyone who came and went.

He took a breath and walked past the scanners, under the glare of the security guards. But no alarm sounded. He was outside.

Keep walking, he told himself – in case there's a delay.

And why didn't the scanners – whose company slogan was "We Can See What You Had For Breakfast" – pick up the stolen game piece?

Good question...unless Smalley was in on the transfer, paid off by Kaze Glom to let this little illegal transfer go down.

Or maybe they simply weren't programmed to look for NOK pieces. He used his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his face and his neck – and felt something.

There – just below the neck line, the tiniest thing stuck to his skin. He started to pick at it, his arm twisted awkwardly behind him. Finally he came away with a thumbnail-sized patch of flesh-colored plastic.

A dose patch!

Tristan stared at it, feeling sweat break out anew all over his body. Where had that come from? What had he been dosed with? And by whom? Had to have been that cat woman – she was the only one who'd touched him, coiling that tail around his neck.

But with what? Some sort of aphrodisiac? Or a psychoactive? He felt no ill effects – no effects of any sort.

Maybe the drug hadn't seeped through his skin, or didn't affect him.

He'd have to keep watch for any symptoms. Meanwhile, he had to get moving and look for a spot to activate the key.

He hurried down a street and passed the bazaar, quiet now...most of the better stuff well picked over. He watched a disheveled-looking man setting up his items, pulling them from an old sack. His treasures..

Tristan stopped.

"What's that?" he said to the man.

The man looked up, alarmed, maybe scared.

The man had something in his hand, something that Tristan had seen before. He really should go, he really shouldn't waste time looking, but –

The man was nervous. Tristan remembered that his masque was big, imposing...maybe even threatening.

"Wh-what do you want?"

Tristan came closer. "That thing in your hands. What is it?"

The old man's nervous, beady eyes darted from his sack of treasures to Tristan.

"This? You mean–?”

The old man held it up.

"Yes."

The old man looked at the machine. He read the words. "It's – it's a 'Mr. Coffee.'"

Tristan smiled. Right. A Mr. Coffee. He had seen them in kitchens in the old vids. A Mr. Coffee would sit on a counter. People went and got coffee. They drank coffee for caffeine, maybe for the taste.

Tristan came closer to it. "It's old...can I–?"

The old man seemed disinterested. "Yes. It's very old...I guess–” The man shrugged. What he didn't know about his goods could probably fill a small database.

Tristan looked at the plastic item. He once saw someone use it in an old vid, filling it with water, then spooning in the ground coffee –

He fiddled with a part, and small cup-like item slid out.

"Yes, there's where the coffee went."

Tristan handed it back to the man. He'd almost like to have it, this object from a world where things seemed saner, where –

There were no mimes.

Where everyone was a human.

"What else have you got?"

Tristan leaned over and peeked into the man's sack. He saw a metal flask, tarnished and corroded. Probably dating from the same period, Tristan guessed. Only the metal wasn't lasting as long.

He had seen this used too, for a different drink...back when there was only alcohol at bars.

Tristan nodded...and mimicked the words he remembered from the flat vid: "Shaken...not stirred."

The old man was definitely confused. He scratched his scraggly head, licked his chapped lips.

Shaken not stirred...Tristan turned the object in his hands.

"Want it? I can make you a deal...for the both. Credits or” – the old man licked his lips. "If you got some Hhhelll, I can–”

Tristan handed back the cup.

"I'd like them," he said. "But I can't take them now."

The old man rubbed his beard, and took the cup and placed it on the table.

"I'm always here," he said.

Tristan nodded, the vision, the vid memories fading.

He left the bazaar.

*

Tristan stood in the dark alleyway, ripe with the fetid smell of human waste, garbage, decay. Like some black market trader, he kept checking the alley entrance.

He removed the sleek NOK piece from his pocket and turned it over in his hand.

Its perfectly smooth surface reflected the light from the end of the alley. He wondered: Was this a mistake? Was the real contact detained somewhere?

But no...he spotted a small rectangle etched into the bottom.

Could be –

He dug his nail into the edge, and a small metal flap popped out...and inside, a tiny rectangular lens.

The codekey.

He checked the alley again. He was still alone, unless something that was once a person slept under a pile of garbage

He began to raise the piece to his eye, then hesitated.

Everything had gone according to plan...and damn his nature, that made him suspicious.

He blinked and activated his neuronet. Regis appeared, taking up where he'd been cut off last time.

"Lord Tristan, I must remind you that you are now behind your planned itinerary. You will have to–”

Tristan held up the NOK piece.

"Regis, what's the potential danger with this codekey?"

"There is always the possibility of shadow code. I'm afraid even I can't detect every hidden subroutine."

Tristan nodded. A predatory code could eat up his neuronet in a millisecond. Then Tristan would be trapped in the freezone.

Forcing himself to relax, Tristan held the piece over his right eye and stared into the lens. A series of swirling flashes strobed the optical code into his neuronet.

Immediately, his Roam Grid appeared. Everything looked fine, the Kaze Quarter occupied the lower border, then the great expanse of the freezone, and –

The grid shifted north. To Flagge Glom. First it was outlined in red, but then the red lines disappeared and changed to green. A path appeared in the map of the Flagge Quarter, leading to a structure. It gave no indication what the building was, and he had no way for Regis to find out, not until they were actually inside the quarter.

The only way to discover his destination was to go there.

And from there, he'd get what he needed to enter the heart of Flagge Glom...to enter the Citadel.

Or so he hoped.