The Slums of the Solar System Books 1-3

Chapter 1-3

“Don’t talk nonsense,” Rocco snapped. “Maybe he can’t be hurt, but I doubt the same is true of his friend.”

He seized a fistful of Omesh’s hair and yanked it back with such force it brought spots to Omesh’s vision. Then he pressed the wet blade of his knife to Omesh’s throat. It was only there for a moment, and Rocco never said a word, although Omesh was certain that more threats and demands were meant to accompany the gesture. Instead there was a scuffle, a grunt, and a shrill scream.

The grip on his hair fell away and Omesh righted his head. He wished his hands were free so he could touch his neck; he felt a trickle there but didn’t know if it was Hjalmar’s blood or his own. The shiv was lying on Omesh’s lap, staining his new kurta. Rocco was now crumpled on the floor, clutching his knee and whimpering as he tried and failed to get up.

The reason for that was soon clear, as Omesh finally spotted Hjalmar dodging the clumsy stabs of two other gang members. He caught the wrist of one, guiding the boy’s own momentum to bring him close and then striking with the speed of a cobra, a short kick that made a horrid crunching sound as it impacted the boy’s knee.

Once there were two people on the floor in as many seconds, the others disappeared. The smallest boy lingered for a moment, tempted by Omesh’s kite in his hands, but when Hjalmar turned to look at him he quickly overcame his indecision, dropping the kite and scampering away.

“Why didn’t you just do that in the first place?” Omesh asked. His neck was twinging every time he moved his head in a way that promised to be worse in the morning.

“I don’t really enjoy hurting people. I try to find other options.”

“To the point where you let them stab you?”

Hjalmar looked down at his shirt-wrapped arm as if he’d forgotten it. “I’ve had worse.”

“It will need stitches. Can you get that here?”

“Sure. With every teenager armed with shivs, I’m sure there’s a robust business to be had in stitches and antibiotics. But we should get to our destination first.”

“And hurry. I don’t think that was the whole gang. They probably just ran to get the really big guys.”

“I agree.” Hjalmar stepped over the boy still moaning at Omesh’s feet and picked up the shiv to cut away the plastic ties. The sudden rush of blood back to Omesh’s hands and feet brought a rapturous pain.

“Take a minute,” Hjalmar said. “I’ll repack your trunk.”

Omesh rubbed at his ankles first and then stood up, taking a few limping steps around. He wanted to be able to run as soon as possible. Hjalmar gathered up the scattered piles of clothing, stuffing them back inside the trunk. Then he looked at the two pieces of the computer.

“It’s all right; I can fix that,” Omesh said, limping over to pick up the kite.

“I’ve never seen a computer like this,” Hjalmar said as he nestled the pieces in with the clothing.

“It’s built from scraps, so I guess you could call it one of a kind.”

“You built it?”

“Yeah. I wasn’t allowed to take any A&MC technology with me, so I built that. Technically it’s just junk, so I can keep it, but it works. Faster than my school tablet, actually.” He leaned down to gently arrange the kite over the top and Hjalmar shut the lid, then used one of the zip ties to hold the latch down in place of the smashed lock.

“I’ll carry the trunk, you just keep up,” Hjalmar said and led the way out of the room.

Omesh came after, slowly at first but more quickly as his feet recovered. He could feel eyes on them as they passed through the narrow alleyways, small children or sometimes women or old men watching them from the dark doorways. No one tried to stop them or even speak to them, but he was sure when the rest of the gang started the pursuit the bystanders wouldn’t hesitate to point out which way they had gone.

Then they were out of the complex and back in the open space of the station marketplace. Back in the crowds and the hundred mingling smells. Funny what just ten short minutes could do to rearrange a person’s idea of what was terrifying and what felt safe.

“Not far now,” Hjalmar said. Then he stopped suddenly, staring off into space.

“What is it?” Omesh asked, looking around but seeing nothing out of the ordinary. “Are you getting a message or something? Is there a problem with your contact?”

“You said you were going to stay with your uncle on Chandi V,” Hjalmar said.

“Yes, about that—”

“There are no scheduled arrivals to Chandi V except my family,” Hjalmar went on. “What’s your uncle’s name?”

“Prakash Goyal,” Omesh said, “but he isn’t a corporate employee. He won’t be in your ... head.”

“Barnacle Town,” Hjalmar said. “You’re going to Barnacle Town.”

“I guess that’s what they call it.”

Hjalmar set down Omesh’s trunk. Then he straightened, his face as unreadable as ever.

“What’s going on?” Omesh asked.

“I can’t take you with me.”

“OK,” Omesh said, feeling anything but. “OK, but can you take me as far as the Dauntless anyway? My uncle is waiting for me there.”

“No, I really can’t.”

“OK. OK.” Omesh didn’t know what else to say. Hjalmar was looking around, his arms crossed over his bare chest. A trickle of blood was worming its way out from under the shirt bandage. “What do I do now? I don’t have any money. And those boys will be back.”

“You’re clever,” Hjalmar said. “You’ll think of something. Anybody who can build a workable computer out of bits from a junk heap can find a way to make a living in a thriving community like this one. They’re all illegal squatters, but they aren’t all out-and-out criminals. You’ll be fine.”

“What? I don’t understand what’s happening,” Omesh said.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve got to go. Good luck.” Then he turned and walked away. He was tall, and he had silver-blond hair; it took a very long time for him to disappear in the crowd.

Omesh Rashid Nasrin had grown up on a farm on the edge of the Thar Desert, twenty miles from the nearest neighbor and more than a hundred from the nearest village. He was an only child, and his parents worked from sunrise to sunset every day of the week, which left little time for them to spend with him. But now, surrounded by people packed around him in all three dimensions, now he felt truly isolated.