d
garments from dreary, simple shifts to flamboyant,
complex robes that twisted, circled, and knotted
around their wearers.

This was Planet Pluto post-secession: a mixture of
migrants from across the system. The tank town
took them all, for itself or for Slingshot, or both.
Those who stayed procreated, natural or clone,
according to their customs or inclinations. The
effect was a mixture of breeds whose interactions
had brought out a bewildering patchwork of hybrid
cults, philosophies and arts. Behavior ran the
gamut; newcomers accepted or were overwhelmed.

Kumiko pointed ahead. The Condor loomed,
a sprawling, multi-storied, down-at-the heels
apartment-hotel, its surface colors akin to the
low, drab rise on which it stood.

Disembarking the strip, the companions assembled,
slipped into an alley and entered a portal into the
crowded lobby. Joining the laughing, chattering
throng, they squeezed their way to the desk robot,
and registered as a group. Individual identicards
ejected from an aperture, assigning them to a small
apartment with sleeping cubicles off a common room.
The communal lavatory and electronic bio-shower
were down the hall.

Entering the apartment and tossing their gear into
a corner, they kept up a running chatter. Hodak's
main concern was where their next meal was coming
from.

"Gotta find jobs or we don't eat," he barked as he
hoisted his pack on to a sleep pad and tore at its
flaps.

Kumiko and Adari opened and slammed cabinets,
checked housekeeping supplies and "ooh-ed" and
"ah-ed" each discovery. Myra and Brad stomped
into a sleeping cubicle and heaved the sleeping
pads first one way, then the other.

"Look in the corners," Hodak bawled across the
narrow hall, "that's where the little buggers build
their nests."

Myra shrieked and drew her sidearm as Brad stepped
back. She set the ray-spread to conic and ran the
beam from one end of the pad to the other, into
the corners and along the walls. They inspected
the results, laughed loudly, and went on to the next
cubicle to repeat their exuberant performance.

Zolan strolled from one room to the next,
sharing the action with his noisy friends,
meanwhile scanning the walls, ceiling, floor,
lighting fixtures, visi-screens and cabinets.

He rounded toward Brad and brushed against
him. His fingers pressed their message. The
others, watching, drew the correct conclusion.

The rooms were bugged, sight and sound.

Chapte