She rose to her feet with Rob's help. The crowd was dazed-looking, elated, and she could smell the alcohol content in the air. More than a few looked to be under the influence of recreational drugs.
She was glad they were walking. It helped clear her head, despite the acrid smoke drifting down from the clouds. She'd drunk a bit too much, too. "That was incredible!" she said to Rob. "They do this every year?"
"Solstice, Landing Day, Heritage Day and Independence Day. We're looking for more holidays to declare, so we can do this every month," he said, half joking.
They wove through the dispersing crowd and Kendra noticed the trash lying around. There was very little, actually. What there was seemed to have dispersed from the filled cans. The civility of these people was just amazing.
She was too exhausted to go out barhopping with Rob, so she kissed him goodnight before retiring to her apartment to collapse.
Chapter 7
"In vino, veritas."
—Pliny the Younger
That local Sunday—Gealday, the need for something familiar had become unbearable. Besides, she hadn't been to church in quite some time and not at all since arriving. There were things she needed to say that she couldn't say elsewhere. She asked Rob to help her find a church and if he'd come along.
"I'll do what I can," he agreed. "But you'll need to pick the church. The few times I go I'm Druidic, not Christian." More strangeness. Druidism had had a resurgence on Earth some centuries back, but had waned again. She'd heard of it, but was unfamiliar with it.
Saint Patrick's Catholic Second Reformed Church was styled as she expected, after the early Twenty-Second-Century Geometric school of architecture. It was straight, clean lines and simple planes in light earthy colors. Inside, it was well lit through huge expanses of glass, open without being cavernous and warmly styled in more umbers and browns. A peace flowed through her and she felt more at home and relaxed than she had since leaving Earth. It wasn't that she was particularly devout, but it was ritual and pattern she was familiar with. She left Rob in the sanctuary and went to confession. She finally had an opportunity to bare her feelings in safety.
She sought an empty confessional and sat down. A moment to compose her thoughts, a breath, and she intoned, "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been . . . two months since my last confession . . ." She detailed her departure and her concerns about her friends back on Earth. "I feel like I abandoned Tom after he did so much for me," she said. "And I didn't stay to put things right. I feel cowardly. I didn't know what else to do. And I had an oath to serve . . . I broke that in the process." She poured out her feelings and paused finally. She hadn't realized how much of a burden she'd been carrying.
"Have you prayed for your friend Tom, daughter?" the priest asked.
"Yes, Father. Daily. Almost," she qualified.
"Then God will take care of him and your thoughts will help. He acted from conscience and you have made his sacrifices worthwhile. Somewhere there is a reason for his actions, even if we don't see it."
"Yes, Father," she agreed. People kept telling her that. Maybe it was true.
"It seems to me that your oath was broken by those you swore to, not by you. If they acquit you, will you return?"
"I . . . don't know," she replied. "I'm scared."
"That will be your decision if it happens. That will be the judge of your oath."
"Yes, Father."
She felt better afterward. Rob was waiting and had held a seat for her and held her hand while she recovered her composure. He made no comments and followed the service as if he'd practiced.
"You sing well," she said as they left.
"Right," he snorted.
"Really!" she insisted.
"Must have been good acoustics in there," he said. "Do you feel better?"
"Much," she said. "Thanks for coming." He looked good in a jacket, and her new dress made her feel she was progressing. It was a luxury and she had very few of them yet.
"Sure. Anything for a friend," he said.
She knew he meant it. She also knew he was a bit more than just a friend by now.
She was never quite sure how she'd wound up inviting him into her apartment that night. She needed company, but that wasn't it alone. He had been very undemanding of her, had not mentioned sex since a frustrating attempt the week before. If she needed answers to questions or a friend or neighbor or tour guide, he was quickly available.
But she'd invited him in, he'd brought wine, they'd cooked, then spent the evening sitting watching classic movies. His place would have been more comfortable, being larger and better furnished, but this was her territory and made her feel safer. Touching had led to kissing and she realized that she was unconsciously planning sex. She shrugged inwardly and agreed with herself. It was about time she stopped trying to be a tourist and became a local, and Rob was a very decent guy.
She pulled Rob closer to kiss him. It lingered and she worked her lips along his cheek to whisper, trembling, "I want to make love to you."
He was kissing her neck and spoke gently near her ear, saying simply, "Yes." He drew gently away, slipped an arm around her and ushered her in to her bedroom. He closed the door with his foot and pulled her close again.
Kendra felt his growing urgency as his hands found their way under her tunic and around her breasts. His mouth sought her throat and she gasped. She turned her lips to his shaved temple, caressing the warm skin with the edges of them. He bit into her shoulder and squeezed her harder with his hands, then they quested further. He released both their clothes with practiced hands and coaxed her to the bed with him.
Sex without a barrier was much more intimate and much more frightening. She felt her soul truly bare to him and clutched tightly. She was losing her virginity all over again, it seemed.
This time would be better. With practice in the mechanics, she could concentrate on the torrent of sensations raining over her and shuddered silently in pleasure. The motion of him inside her seemed to go all the way to her center, to collide with a wave emanating from his mouth on hers. She dizzily enjoyed the intense heat of him for a while, then fought her way back around, pulling him on top of her. She locked in a kiss with him, grabbing his buttocks, wrapping her legs behind his knees and screaming muffled against his mouth his seeking tongue feeling him come again deep inside her nails on his back.
They made love twice more that night and she never did get to sleep. She arrived at work quite energized, and did find people still in the park from the holiday weekend when she made a preliminary inspection. She decided they weren't hurting anything and let them sleep. There was an enforceable rule against more than one day's residency, but they weren't in any danger of breaking it. She felt fine until just after five—midday—when the previous night suddenly caught up to her and she had to sit down to rest. The weather was working on becoming oppressively hot, but the low humidity made it pleasant in the shade of a tree. She sipped some water from her bottle, sat on her cloak and looked toward downtown. The gleaming cleanliness of the edifices and the crystal sky behind them was never a boring sight. Even from this distance, they towered above the plain, appearing taller than the mountains behind them.
A skeletal frame protruded above the nearer buildings. As she watched, it rose and halted, then rose again. It had to be the new FreeBank Tower that was being built. She hadn't realized they were starting so soon. As she mused, assembly drones crawled up the supports and began lashing them with cable. That would be monomolecular boron cable, she recalled, and the struts would be tube-molecular crystal carbon composite. Incredibly strong stuff. The building should be proof against anything short of a direct hit by military explosives.
"Goofing off?" Karen asked from behind her. Kendra hadn't heard her approach.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Karen," she said. "I was taking a break and got distracted."
"That's fine," Karen chuckled, "it's almost quitting time anyway." She grinned her usual toothy grin. Rob had once made an innue
ndous comment about her slightly prominent teeth and Kendra had poked him for it. He could make comments about anything.
Karen continued, "I love watching them build, too. And you're done with the maze already, so relax. You'll make us look bad by being so industrious."
They sat and watched as the frame rose, joint by joint. Out of sight from them, below the near horizon, heavy machines worked furiously. The vertical pybraces were connected on their pivot points and pushed aloft. As they swung vertical, the trailing ends would be held ready for the loading tractor to attach the next set. It would have been impossible to do without modern lightweight materials and heavy machinery, even in lighter gravity.
"I wonder what they used before boron and carbon?" Karen mused.
"Low-carbon steel," Kendra replied.
"What? You're kidding! The mass would be outrageous!" The redhead was incredulous.
"No, really," Kendra insisted. "Steel truss towers with braces and crossbeams."
"How'd they erect them?"
"Using large cranes with kilometers of steel cable, set on top of gantries built of triangular steel frameworks. Then they'd move the crane onto the frame and build as they went. I studied it in class," she said.
"That had to take weeks," Karen pondered. As she spoke, the building jolted again and passed the two-hundred-meter mark. Aircars buzzed the structure, chased away by security drones.
"Months usually," Kendra agreed. "Then they used prefab modules inside, much like we do now."
Karen was fascinated. "Why so much steel? Didn't they have polymers or titanium? I recall polymers and graphite came out about then."
"They did," Kendra agreed, "and boron whisker, but it was all outrageously expensive. About like using crystal iron or beryllium now."
"Hard to think of steel as cheaper than carbon. And it couldn't be easier to work with," Karen replied, still not convinced.
"They had tools for it, and an industry. Some of them still stand. The shorter ones, anyway, like the Sears Tower in Chicago. They replaced most of the structure in the last hundred years, but it's still steel and it still stands," Kendra said. "I felt nervous in it, but they insist it's still safe."
They watched, rapt, as the scuttling pods fed cables across. The building would widen slightly from its base, then taper toward the pinnacle. Its own mass would hold the shape against the cables, with only a few crossbeams for structural support. Many thinner pieces served as traylike mounts for the modular office sections that would be installed by skycrane.
It bumped up another level and the crews adjusted the cable tension to rein in one corner that was sagging. Since the top was being built first as it rose, it was widening slowly but perceptibly and the upper sections had a tendency to draw slack from the unfixed ones being raised.
Kendra suddenly burst out laughing. "What?" Karen asked.
"It just occurred to me," she explained, still laughing, "that the cabling tractors look like insects. As they link together, they perfectly match the brand name of 'Caterpillar.' "
Karen laughed too.
While they were sitting there, a familiar voice greeted her, "Hi, Kendra."
It was Alexia. She was wearing a short dress in fluorine green that covered much of her but not her breasts, and had a black cloak over it. She was carrying a briefcase.
Kendra indicated for her to sit down, flipping more cloak out. "Hi, Alexia," she returned. "I managed not to pass out this time."
"Good! Go ahead and call me 'Marta.' "
"Okay," she agreed. "Why? And this is Karen, one of my bosses," she added.
Marta spoke to Karen, saying, "Pleased to meet you," then turned to Kendra and said, "Well, 'Marta' is my real name."
"I suppose that's a good reason. What's going?"
"Working," Marta said. "Needed my toys for this one," she explained, casually flipping open her briefcase. Kendra stared in fascination at the most amazing collection of sex toys she had ever seen. The presentation in public in front of Karen made her flush beet red.
Trying not to stare, Kendra said, "You'll have to show me what some of those things are for sometime."
"Ask me at a party sometime, when I can do a demo for advertising."
"Demo on who?" Kendra asked, shocked.
"Well, you, of course. It's the best way to find out. Unless you can find someone to volunteer for you."
"All I want is a brief explanation, nothing complicated, nothing public," Kendra told her, flushing again. Karen's snickers didn't help matters.
"I could do that," Marta agreed. "But then I'd have to charge you a consultation fee."
"You're . . . not joking," Kendra said, answering her own question.
"It's the same way I explain to clients. It seems mercenary, but I have to make a living. Information or demos or samples cost, and there's no refund possible."
"I guess that makes sense," Kendra nodded.
Karen interrupted with, "Kendra, we're done today. I'm going to catch a view of the construction. See you in the morning." She stood and walked off.
"Okay, Karen," she replied to the other woman's departing back, still distracted. Turning again to Marta, she asked, "How do you separate your business and social lives?"
"It's business until I book a minimum amount for the day or until I give up and call it quits or until I have a drink. I'm happy to talk about it with you, but details become a service and that's what I charge for."
"I definitely couldn't deal with that," Kendra said, shaking her head. "I wouldn't know when to quit."
"That is a problem in this business. Some people hold to a regular set of divs, usually evenings. Some are nonstop and confused and burn out quickly. I try to split the difference. I get a lot of the daytime business."
"And you don't work for a service," Kendra noted.
"No. There are very few services here, although I belong to a referral co-op. When I'm booked, my code allows a client to reach another and vice versa. The only actual services are clubs, with set divs, which I hate. They are slightly safer, but don't pay as well. I can afford to hire a chaperone when needed and I hold an expert rating in unarmed combat and have combat experience, so I'm not too concerned."
"Is everyone here a veteran?" Kendra asked. "That's all I seem to meet."
"A lot of people in this vicinity are, with Heilbrun Base just out of town. But you met me because I used to be active duty with Jaheed."
Both women got up and headed north through the park. Marta angled west and Kendra followed as they continued this most informative discussion. They wound up dodging traffic—even scarier than in the dark, when you saw the vehicles up close and realized they were all on manual or self-auto, not district control—and were shortly seated at Stanley's. Marta glanced at her phone, adjusted a setting and said, "I can't go off just yet, so I'll stick to soft drinks. Second round can be yours, if you like."
"Uh . . . okay," Kendra agreed. Her rent was paid, she had food, and her indent was an automatic deduction. She didn't need to be stingy, but it would take conscious effort not to be. She had no experience being poor—it was an entirely new state of affairs to her, as was everything else. To shift from the new pattern back to the old was difficult.
Rupe arrived, slid two small bowls of salsa, one hot, one "mild," in front of them, along with fresh baked chips, and greeted them. "Alexia, and Kendra, I believe?"
Kendra agreed and thanked him. Marta said, "Just Marta. I'm on call but not working. Ginger ale, spiced for me. Kendra?" she asked, turning.
"One of those wine coolers would be wonderful right now."
"Right up," he agreed and returned in seconds with their drinks.
Kendra found herself talking about gardening. "Apparently I have a lot of talent and my design skills are becoming useful. And I like the fact that I actually get to work here, rather than just wasting time. It gives me a sense of accomplishment I rarely got back home."
Moments later, they were interrupted by Rob. He bounced up, yelled, "Mar
!" and gathered Marta in a close embrace, kissing her in a fashion that made Kendra slightly jealous. He turned then and grabbed Kendra close, kissing her in a way that made her head swim. He plunked down next to them.
"Pardon me for rudely interrupting," he said. "But I just picked up a contract with Jefferson Central Machinery to straighten out their parts files, deposit paid in advance and rather well, thank you. So I'm celebrating. Would either of you object to a drink?"
"Just one," Marta agreed, bending her rules. "And congratulations."
"Congratulations," Kendra echoed. "And I don't object."
"Done. Rupe, line us up four Silver Birches and a jalapeno lime ice for me."
Rob invited Stanley to join them, hence the fourth shot, and toasted, "To windfall profits!"
Kendra downed her Silver Birch. It had the burn of strong liquor, with a smoky sweet bite to it. It warmed her stomach and a glow suffused her. Though she had never liked liquor, this was very interesting.
Stanley went back to his counter and Rob and Marta explained their common background. "We met on Mtali," he told Kendra. "I had some yokel running up to my Hatchet as I landed it in a firefight and she popped out of nowhere and gapped him."
"That was right after he dumped a burst of fifteen millimeter into an armored vehicle bent on turning me into road pizza," Marta added. "We both are from this area, so we meet up occasionally for drinks and soshing."
"Hey," Rob put in, "Should we go down and watch the construction? It isn't every day they put up a seven-hundred-meter building." All agreed, so they wandered that way on foot. It was only a few hundred meters farther.
There was quite a crowd gathering as they approached, with several City Safety officers trying vainly to keep vehicles moving. There was a private security firm using drones and aircars to chase away those flyers who were too inquisitive. As much complaining as could be heard all around, Kendra decided it was no worse than traffic around construction sites on Earth. Most people here weren't foolish enough to get too close. The risk of getting sued and indentured for life if one interfered probably helped dissuade many of them.