Kingdom of Cages(25)

“Ow! Stop it! I thought you could help!”

Nan Elle stepped back into her line of sight, and she was grinning again. “I can. But not if I don’t know what’s wrong with you.”

Chena tried to twist around to face the old woman and immediately regretted the movement. Pain shot up and down her back. “What’s wrong with me is that I’ve been shoveling shit all day.”

Nan Elle nodded. “I would agree with that diagnosis.” She stepped back to the edge of the lit circle Chena sat in, becoming a figure of shadow. “I can give you a drink for the pain and a salve that will help keep your muscles from stiffening up overnight. But we must talk price.”

Chena had to work to keep her jaw from dropping. She hadn’t even considered that this would cost. But then, this was not Athena Station, where there were first-aid kits on every level that the directorate kept filled for you.

“I don’t have any money.”

“Most of my people don’t. I will charge you four days’ use of that.” She pointed a bony finger at Chena’s comptroller.

Chena automatically covered the comptroller’s screen with her hand. “No. That’s mine.”

Nan Elle chuckled at her, and Chena felt the familiar flare of real anger beginning. Who was this old woman, anyway? What did she think she had? Then a new cramp started in the back of her leg, sharp enough to keep her mouth closed against her thoughts. Nan Elle’s eyes flickered up and down Chena, and Chena knew Nan Elle had seen the way she twitched in answer to the new spasm.

“You would trust me with your body, station girl, but not your machine?” Nan Elle shook her head.

Chena bit her lip, and even that movement hurt. Reluctantly, she fumbled with the strap of her comptroller, pulled it off, and set it on the table among the bundles of plants and piles of clay pots.

Nan Elle scooped it up and popped it into one of her apron pockets. “Very good. Now you wait.”

For what? But Chena kept her mouth shut. Nan Elle receded farther into the shadows. Chena saw her pull something kidney-shaped down off one of the hooks and heard the slosh of liquid being poured. “What is the whole hassle with getting an aspirin around here?”

“Ah,” said Nan Elle. “The hothousers, who dictate the conditions by which we live, say that by introducing artificial means to restrict or reroute the viral or bacterial populations, we risk damaging the balance of Pandora’s microsphere, which is the foundation of its total ecology.” Nan Elle shuffled back into the light.

“What?”

“Antivirals and antibiotics can force microorganisms to evolve in ways that are not strictly natural. Change the microsphere, and you might just introduce adverse changes all the way up the life chain. So, no medicines except under strict quarantine and supervision.”

“That is completely cross-threaded,” announced Chena.

“Perhaps.” Nan Elle sounded much more serious than Chena would have expected. “But there are those who say that it contributed to the destruction of the biosphere back on Old Earth.” Nan Elle planted a wooden cup full of something ruby-red on the table in front of Chena. “Now you drink that.”

Chena picked it up and sniffed it. It smelled vaguely of cherries. It seemed okay.

A shaft of light cut through the room. “Don’t.”

Chena froze, the cup halfway to her mouth. A man stepped out of the light, removed the cup from her fingers, and sniffed at it, as she had. “What’s this, Elle?” he inquired.

“It’s registered,” replied Nan Elle stiffly. “I can show you the permit.”

“I’m sure,” the man drawled. He set the cup down, out of Chena’s reach.

Now that Chena’s eyes had readjusted to the flood of daylight, she could get a look at the man. He looked about as old as Dad had when he left. His deep brown skin darkened almost to black around his eyes and in the hollows of his cheeks. His wiry, wavy black hair had been pulled into a roll. A wooden plug was shoved through one earlobe. His mended brown and burgundy clothes were the same tunic and trousers everybody else seemed to wear, but he had a wide blue band around one sleeve.

It was his belt, though, that told Chena that this was the cop that Sadia had warned Shond about. He had a chip scanner clipped to the leather beside a taser, and a holster that held something gun-shaped. Chena wondered what it fired.

She glanced toward the door. Human shadows moved near the threshold, and all thoughts of running went out the hatch. The cop had backup. Better to just wait this out. With any luck, the cop would forget about her, or just tell her to go home.

“Elle, I’m going to search your house and your garden.” He sounded matter-of-fact and tired. “And I’m going to take your client.”