Look Out For Space (Seven For Space) by William F Nolan Read Free Book Online Page A

instantly induced by the drug. I didn't have to snort L to know it was plenty potent. These days, since I'd quit the booze, a Moonrim Fizz or a shot of Martian Monkweed was enough to frazzle my brainpan; I was never dumb enough to get into any hard stuff. That was for cheap rock rustlers like Halfcat who needed a prime jolt to operate at anything above a moron's level.
    Patiently I waited for the stuff to run his system, knowing he wouldn't be any good for questions and answers until the L had peaked.
    "Whoo — eeee!" Halfcat's yellow eyes pinwheeled in his skull. He folded himself into a ball, rolled around in a circle, hopped up, yowled at the sky, twitched his cat ears — and suddenly nipped me on the right calf.
    "Hey! No biting, dammit!" I yelled, jumping back and grabbing at my leg.
    The fugg was looking at us sourly with both of its heads. It was never in a good mood, since half of it was always going in the wrong direction.
    Halfcat began to giggle. His pink tongue lolled. He flopped down on a large rock just inside the mine entrance, giggled again, then stared at me. His eyes focused, narrowed.
    "That's good prime," he said in a cool, level tone. "You got more?"
    "One more," I said. "But this is a trade, catman. You owe me."
    He shook his head violently, clearing away some of the drug mist. "Talk to Collingo. He's my buyer. He's into the whole picture. Buys and sells. Large and small."
    I whistled through my pivot tooth. "Collingo! … into hot asteroids. C'mon, the man's a legit Saint!"
    "He bought Sainthood, like he buys everything else."
    "Why should he tell me anything?"
    "He probably won't. He'll probably kill you. You asked for a lead, not a guarantee. That's the trade. Let's have the other jolt." He grinned, revealing the full length of his curving yellow fangs. "Or do I suck your bones for breakfast?"
    I didn't reply to that question — just tossed him the second plasflask and got back on my fugg.
    It was like he said: In my game, you get no guarantees.

Eight
     
    Times Square, in Newer New Old New York, hadn't changed much. Still brash, noisy, crowded, mean, foul smelling and hell to get around in. Especially at rush hour, when the jet tubes emptied their home-from-work crowd onto the pedways. There were always at least a dozen citizens trampled to death at each rush period. Ped victims. You took your chances.
    I was switching lanes at 42nd Street, trying for a faster pedbelt, when I got lucky. A lev floated past me with his beepie on — meaning he was for hire. I grabbed him.
    "Where to, bud?" he asked, killing his beepie.
    "CenPark. Saint's Church."
    He sniffed. "You converting?"
    I shook my head. "Private biz."
    Most levs are nosey, and he was no exception.
    "Okay, saddle up," he said, crouching and flipping on his chest meter.
    I climbed onto his shoulder saddle and we took off. I always feel a little goofy riding a lev. But since they banned the old rocket cabs about a century back you either tubed or rode a lev. The pedways took forever.
    As we soared above 42nd Street I asked him when he knew he had the Talent.
    "My old man had the Talent, and his old man had it before him," he told me. "My whole fam's gifted. My Aunt Nabby was into Faith Healing — worked with Martian freebs mostly — and Uncle Ferdinand was a Foot Teller. He read big toes on Saturn. Me, I could levitate before I could walk. Used to float over the chicken house and drop eggs on Grampa."
    "I'll bet that pissed him off," I said.
    "Yeah. Usta get mad as hell. Gramps was a telek and he'd get the house furniture after me. Our big leather sofa was the worst. Gramps would have that thing chasing me all over the house."
    "Telekinesis isn't all that common. Did he use it commercially?"
    "When he was younger, he did. Used to floatload the Luna tugs. He could mind lift up to five thousand pounds of freight at a crack. But he got old … retired. Dead now. I miss that feisty geezer."
    By the end of his story we were over CenPark and I