Vacumn Flowers

There will never be anyone for me but you. Listen. I know that you’re… going away soon, and I don’t want you to—God, I don’t know how to say it—I don’t want you to dissolve without ever knowing that I love you. I don’t think I could bear it. Is that too greedy of me? Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

In a storm of happiness and misery, she hugged him to her and held him tight so that he couldn’t see her face, her tears. When he started to talk again, she silenced him the only way she could think of, and they were making love again.

All through it, she loved him so much she had to bite her tongue to keep from telling him. She was afraid that if she spoke the words they would split her wide open. She loved Wyeth more now than she ever had, and she loved him most of all for lying to her. Because of course she didn’t believe a word of what he’d said.

But it was nice that he’d said it.

That night Eucrasia appeared to her in the form of a rotting corpse. Her fingers ended in chrome scalpels, and when she opened her mouth, hypodermic syringes slid from the flesh like rows of lamprey teeth. “Go back,” Rebelsaid. Eucrasia raised a grey hand in graceful gesture, and razor racks stung across Rebel’s face.

For a shocked instant, Rebel stood her ground, staring through a haze of blood globules, and then Eucrasia lifted her other hand, and Rebel turned and kicked away.

She fled down an endless tangle of stone tu

With this insight, she found herself paralyzed and strapped to a gurney within a niche of New High Kamden’s rose maze.

Eucrasia’s face loomed over her. The wetsurgical paint was cracked and dry, the cheeks taut, and the mouth slightly agape with the tightening of the flesh. Eyes dry and sightless. She leaned close and, breath sweet with putrefaction, spoke.

But when Rebel finally awoke, all she could remember was that Eucrasia had told her truths that she dared not accept.

10

SHADOW OF SNOW

The next day somebody shot a citizen.

Rebel didn’t hear of it until di

“Citizen got shot today,” Wyeth said. He gave her a hug, handed her a tray. A passing pierrot filled it with food.

“What happened?”

“The crew that was chopping the orchid for the protein refineries? They stumbled across a nest of bootleggers brewing up absinthe gin. Pretty marginal operation, I’d say, or they would’ve written that last batch off. Anyway, one of them had an air rifle. It went off.” He shrugged.

“These things happen.”

“Was he hurt bad?”

“Here he comes now.” Two citizens took places at their table. One wore a chest sling, and Rebel could see the prosthetic lung moving within its amber depths. “Hallo, Cinci

“No permanent damage done,” Cinci

“I am curious,” the woman beside him said. “This air rifle, is it a common weapon in the belt Klusters?”

“No, no,” Wyeth said. “In fact, it’s extremely impractical in most Kluster environments—more a toy than a weapon.

Its range is greater than a blade’s, but its accuracy is less.

It’s cheaper than energy weapons, but less versatile.

However, there does seem to be something of a fad for the things in the tanks.”

Three more citizens came by, with Bors tagging after. Hesat beside Rebel, braids swimming lazily about his head then slowly settling down. The static balls kept them away from his face. “This is my last supper.” He spread his hands to either side of him. “My coldship is being prepped even as we sit here.”

“And yet, as you say, this weapon seems peculiarly well suited to the needs of petty criminals. Why did you introduce it in the first place?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Wyeth said lightly. His questioner frowned.

Stilicho also joined the group. “I’ve been out examining the damage done by the weeds that came along with the sheraton. These vacuum flowers. I found them growing on tanks, on farm exteriors, on vacuum docks—there is even a patch on the surface of Deimos. They seem to be everywhere.”

“Oh they’re tenacious all right,” Wyeth said. “Once they get a toehold, there’s no getting rid of them.” Bors chewed slowly, watching the exchange with bright interest.

“Speaking of unwanted presences, Stilicho, I was browsing through your public data base yesterday and found it riddled with Comprise incursions. I hope you don’t keep any secrets there.”

“The People have no secrets,” Stilicho said. “Freedom of information is a basic right of our society. About these vacuum flowers of yours. How are they controlled on Eros Kluster?”

“Mostly they’re not. They’re kept down by dint of constant labor, but I couldn’t say that they’re controlled.

The problem is that they’re bioconstructs designed for trash transformation. The idea was that it’d be easier to harvest and process the flowers than pick up and process the trash. Somebody explained to me once how they got out of hand. Something about single-organism ecosystems. I forget the details.”

“Do you know any People’s law?” Bors asked abruptly.

“I’ve seen something of it,” Rebel said.

“The geodesic should have been examined before acceleration. These verminous little plants will cost us enormous effort to exterminate—if they can indeed be exterminated. Seeding our space with their spores was criminal negligence,” Stilicho said.

“Somebody goofed, that’s for sure,” Wyeth agreed.

“Similarly, I think you’ll be making a mistake if you don’t sterilize your data system as soon as you can.”

“Fascinating stuff. Very informal, very final. Once judgment has been made, there’s no appeal,” Bors said.

“Their trials are held at mealtime. A few members of the Stavka gather at the suspect’s table and ask questions.

Witnesses drop by to chat, then wander off. By the time the meal is over—” he impaled seven peas on an eating needle and popped them in his mouth—“the guilty party has been condemned. And if he wasn’t paying attention, he might well have mistaken it all for casual di

Rebel glanced quickly at Wyeth. The expression on his face was suddenly careful. “Of course I myself had nothing to do with the exterior of the hull,” he said, “since I was responsible solely for internal security.”

“A legalism,” Stilicho said.

Cinci

What I’m concerned with are all these rifles loose in the tanks. I believe they could well grow into a major social problem given time. It would—”

“Have you ever eaten meat?” Bors asked Rebel loudly. “I don’t mean fish or termite compress, but real meat. Dead flesh, carved from animal corpses.”