He'd offered me an equal share of anything we found-- but he never mentioned that it would be a three-way split.
Ang didn't bother to answer me, now that the answer was obvious. And Spadrin was staring back at me in a way that made me forget about Ang's shortcomings.
"This is Gedda," Ang told him.
Spadrin started visibly when he heard the name, but then his frown came back. "You got a Kharemoughi?
You said we were going to get some Company hand--"
He broke off. "Why?"
"He was the best I could do." Ang shrugged, but it wasn't an easy motion. 1 wondered whether his comment
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
was a compliment. His hands were making fists inside the pockets of his coveralls.
Spadrin glared at Ang, disbelief plain on his face. Then he looked me up and down pointedly, as if I were an inanimate object.
I stared back at him, reconfirming my first impression.
He was clearly out of place. His clothes were made of a shining, silken fabric, and might have passed for stylish summer wear in some climate-controlled metropolis; but they were absurdly impractical here. The tattoos running up his bare arms told me a lot more, although I recognized only a few of the designs and symbols. They all have their separate meanings: They Page 24
illustrate a man's life history in the Hegemony's underworld. Spadrin was a career criminal.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked me.
"The same thing you are," I said.
28
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
WORLD S END
He didn't believe it, any more than I did. He looked at Ang. "I don't want him."
"I do." Ang turned away abruptly. "Gedda," he said to me, pointing at the rusty metal hulk rising up beside us, "take a look at it, tell me what you need."
I moved warily past Spadrin, and began to inspect the vehicle. I heard the two of them arguing behind me as if I couldn't hear them; listened while trying to seem like I wasn't listening. Spadrin used the worldspeech of
Number Four with surprising fluency. Anyone can learn a language quickly with an enhancer, but only someone with some intelligence will speak it well. Spadrin is not stupid . . . and I won't forget it. At last he turned and strode away, cursing, and I finished my inspection in peace.
"Well?" Ang said, when I climbed down from the cab.
"It's not hopeless." I leaned against the rover's pitted side and wiped rust from my hands. "The power unit is
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
sound. You said you can get me tools and parts?"
He nodded.
"It's not going to be cheap--"
"I have contacts in the Company. I can get anything you want." The last was said with something closer to arrogance than to confidence.
"Good, then. How much do you understand about how a rover functions?"
"A hell of a lot more than most people," he snapped.
"I've been piloting them since you were a snot-nosed brat." As if somehow I were supposed to have known that. "Just tell me what you want."
I bobbed my head. "Then I'll be precise." I gave him my initial lists, being as technically accurate Page 25
as possible, and watching him for signs of comprehension. ". . . And finally, but most importantly, I'm going to need a new repeller grid, if you want this thing airborne."
29
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
JOAN D. VINGE
That got a reaction. "A grid? The grid is out?"
I nodded. "It's completely deteriorated. Believe me, you don't want to risk flight on it."
"By the Aurant!" His frustration was scorching. A grid would make the difference between swift, comfortable travel by air, and an endless, arduous land journey. All the difference in the world.
But he only grunted. "I'll see what I can do." He reached into a pocket of his coveralls, pulled out a fesh stick, and stuck the piece of narcotic soaked root into his mouth.
"Ang-"
He looked up sharply, as if he knew what I was about to say.
"Why didn't you tell me about Spadrin?"
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
He looked down again, lighting the fesh, and shrugged.
"Listen, Ang. ..." I took a deep breath, trying to hold on to my patience. "This is a two-man vehicle. Three of us is going to make spending a lot of time in it damned uncomfortable. I know why you need me on this trip;
but why him?"
"Protection."
"Protection!" It was the last thing I'd expected to hear him say. I almost told him that I was police-trained, that I
could offer him better and surer protection than Spadrin ever could--but I didn't want to start him asking about my motives instead of Spadrin's. "Gods, man," I shook my head, "don't you know what Spadrin is?" I was sure
Ang had never even been to Foursgate, let alone off world.
But spending his life here in this borderland, he must have seen hundreds of Spadrins passing through: on the run from the law, or looking for easy victims.
"He's an offworlder." Ang said it as if offworlder and scum were the same word. "He came to World's
End just like you. Said he was stranded in Foursgate, needs a stake to get back to his homeworld."
Page 26
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
30
WORLD'S END
"He's more than that." I couldn't keep my own voice from rising. "Do you know what those tattoos of his mean? He's killed more people than you have fingers to count them. He's wanted for crimes on most of the worlds of the Hegemony. If he's stranded here, it's probably because he's in trouble with his own kind, and he needs a place to cool out as much as he needs a stake.
. . . He's going into World's End hunting fresh meat, and you'll be the first--"
"How do you know so damn much about it?" Ang said sullenly.
I hesitated, realizing that I'd said too much already.
But he went on, before I had to answer. "He's no worse than the robbers and 'jacks we'll meet out there--and he'll be on our side."
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
"On our side?" I echoed incredulously. "He's on nobody's side but his own. He's a criminal, Ang! You're not protecting yourself, you're putting a target on your back."
"I'm not stupid." His jaw clenched stubbornly. "I know what I'm doing. He won't make trouble."
"You're deluding yourself. We have a saying on the
. . . there's a saying, that a man who lies down with thieves is lucky if he ever wakes up again."
"You don't have to go with us." He pointed a thumb back toward town. "You can stay here."
My mouth tightened. "I'll go," I said, thinking, But I'll sleep with my eyes open.
"You'll go." His own mouth curved upward. "Just like all the rest."
3i
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
day 32.
For the past week I've been trying to resurrect Ang's dead rover piece by piece, with whatever parts he can beg, borrow, or steal. He is an ex-Company man, as I'd thought; he must be calling Page 27
in a lot of favors.
He's gone most of every day, hustling up more parts-- or maybe just avoiding us, I don't know. I don't think he cares much for either Spadrin or me; probably wishes he didn't need us. It's mutual. But sooner or later everything