Mixing with the street people, Drummer in sight up
ahead, they moved swiftly. Adari trailed Drummer;
Brad next followed by Myra and Kumiko. Zolan and
Hodak brought up the rear. Drummer successfully
resisted the temptation to look back.
Zolan tensed, activating the mind-mike in his
armpit. Brad acknowledged by stepping up his pace.
He passed Adari and drew alongside Drummer.
"Your buddy, Scarf, must have had a friend in the
bar," he said. "We're being tailed."
"Another hundred meters. Cut into the alley on the
left."
Drummer responded. "It'll take us through a
maze that still confounds the street people. We'll
have a better chance in there to lose whoever is
following."
A corner loomed. They squeezed into a narrow,
rubble-strewn passageway between high, rough
walls. Stumbling along the barely lighted shaft
they entered an alley, equally shabby, crowded with
street people, refuse, and abandoned machinery.
They sped along the alley, noting its darkened,
fuser-formed doorways, some empty, others
clogged with trash. Inside, they saw the shadowy
outlines of men, huddled women and children.
Drummer twisted from one alley into the next,
and then another.
He ducked through a gap in one wall, squeezed along
a narrow hallway and exited into an open space. They
packed up close, running and stumbling.
Drummer slowed next to a wall of composite blocks.
Several were missing, leaving a space through
which they squirmed. It was tighter than they had
experienced. In near darkness, they had reached
a dead end.
Ahead was loose rubble forming a heap about two
meters high. Drummer clawed his way around the
side. He motioned the others forward and slipped
out of sight.
Following one behind the other, they saw an opening
in the surface. Responding to Drummer's beckoning,
they dropped into its darkness. The fall was less
than a couple of meters. A light glowed from a wall
to just enough to illuminate Drummer.
They were in a small, roughly rounded chamber.
The walls were fused rubble, irregular and jagged.
The floor was a mixture of Plutonian detritus.
Drummer knelt beside a rock that protruded from
the wall. He twisted the rock, pulled, and pushed
it sideways. Reaching into the vacated space, he
placed his palm on a flat, smooth disk.
A low hum from the wall. A fissure formed where
the wall met the trash-laden floor. The breach
lengthened and curved, its ends meeting the wall.
The section dropped away into darkness.
"Move, move," Drummer snarled his impatience.
"Scarf has this entire sector blocked out by now.
He'll throw his gangs into the alleys and cover
every square meter. These subsurface crawl spaces
and links are our only way. Feel for the ladder."
He lowered himself through the opening and vanished.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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