Descending Road - THROUGH THE TANGLE OF ANDROS by Dana W. Paxson

THROUGH THE TANGLE OF ANDROS

1563 4D

Jeddin passed the lowest floor of the wealthy Fortovo Zone in three bounds, and burst from the white stairs at the train tubes. After he’d delivered the biocrypt from Cortevail, he’d tried to slip out through the upcity streets, and they’d spotted him. No sense waiting or looking back — the watcher had registered him and broadcast an alarm to the Hounds, armed and waiting in a net all across these zones.

He leaped between the closing doors of a departing train accelerating smoothly and silently past the platform into darkness. Not a good choice, this. They’d be here too, in the end cars, shuttling back and forth, sweeping the train. He scanned the gaggles of idlers, shoppers, families standing in the brightly-decorated cylindrical car, holding on to the many steel pillars dotting the broad expanse of floor. Outside the floor-length windows, lamps blurred past. Several andros chatted in a knot at the front end of the car. A head, bobbing quickly, appeared beyond them, coming back from the car ahead.

A Hound. The train slowed slightly. He seized one of the holding bars and started to pull it from the floor and ceiling, and then he remembered the changes in his body. Would their weapons work? They couldn’t quite know who or what they faced, not yet, and that might give him a few precious heartbeats.

He hesitated, in a momentary crisis, and the choices vanished. One from each end of the car, the Hounds raced out and bracketed him, the boxlike barrels of their nerve guns aimed at his head point-blank. They grinned; these Hounds looked male. Lean small tight faces, hot black eyes. People around them pulled away in fear.

He straightened up, his hands open and raised. The andros at the end of the car crowded through into the next car forward, as far away from him as possible.

“You’re making a mistake,” he said.

“Jeddin, shut up.” One of them smiled at him and pulled his trigger.

Jeddin flinched for an instant, a flash of pain stabbing his eyes with crimson. No other effect. Amazing. He leaped and lashed out with both feet at the second Hound, snatched the first man’s gun, and rammed its butt in his astonished face. The kicked man staggered; Jeddin landed and spun himself past the shooter, slamming him into his partner and gaining momentum from the move. Three huge strides took him into the andro group. He had just squeezed through and away when the Hounds' next shots hit.

Shrieks tore the air as the train slowed to a stop at another platform. Jeddin hurled himself from the car and out of the station as the Hounds fought their way through the tangle of andros in varying states of brain seizure. Why not him?

Time to get to familiar places. A recessed door in the busy corridor now, a door no one used, opened slowly and heavily under his hand. He closed it tight behind himself, fumbled his way through a small chamber, found a second door, and emerged on a platform illuminated only by a very faint wisp of light from far above. Down to his left, he took the ancient spiral stairs four at a time, his feet slipping in foul wet muck, his left shoulder bouncing hard against the slimy wall, his right hand flailing to keep him from pitching off the railless stairs into the three-hundred-level pit of the shaft.

Story List	SURPRISE ME	Author Page
USER SURVEY	PUZZLE ME	MAKE ELM MARK

HOVER Lucida Bright BARE	HOVER Lucida Bright FULL	HOVER Palatino Linotype BARE
HOVER Palatino Linotype FULL	HOVER Times New Roman BARE	HOVER Times New Roman FULL
PAD Arial BARE	PAD Arial FULL	PAD Lucida Bright BARE
PAD Lucida Bright FULL	PAD Times New Roman BARE	PAD Times New Roman FULL


	THROUGH THE TANGLE OF ANDROS 1563 4D Jeddin passed the lowest floor of the wealthy Fortovo Zone in three bounds, and burst from the white stairs at the train tubes. After he’d delivered the biocrypt from Cortevail, he’d tried to slip out through the upcity streets, and they’d spotted him. No sense waiting or looking back — the watcher had registered him and broadcast an alarm to the Hounds, armed and waiting in a net all across these zones. He leaped between the closing doors of a departing train accelerating smoothly and silently past the platform into darkness. Not a good choice, this. They’d be here too, in the end cars, shuttling back and forth, sweeping the train. He scanned the gaggles of idlers, shoppers, families standing in the brightly-decorated cylindrical car, holding on to the many steel pillars dotting the broad expanse of floor. Outside the floor-length windows, lamps blurred past. Several andros chatted in a knot at the front end of the car. A head, bobbing quickly, appeared beyond them, coming back from the car ahead. A Hound. The train slowed slightly. He seized one of the holding bars and started to pull it from the floor and ceiling, and then he remembered the changes in his body. Would their weapons work? They couldn’t quite know who or what they faced, not yet, and that might give him a few precious heartbeats. He hesitated, in a momentary crisis, and the choices vanished. One from each end of the car, the Hounds raced out and bracketed him, the boxlike barrels of their nerve guns aimed at his head point-blank. They grinned; these Hounds looked male. Lean small tight faces, hot black eyes. People around them pulled away in fear. He straightened up, his hands open and raised. The andros at the end of the car crowded through into the next car forward, as far away from him as possible. “You’re making a mistake,” he said. “Jeddin, shut up.” One of them smiled at him and pulled his trigger. Jeddin flinched for an instant, a flash of pain stabbing his eyes with crimson. No other effect. Amazing. He leaped and lashed out with both feet at the second Hound, snatched the first man’s gun, and rammed its butt in his astonished face. The kicked man staggered; Jeddin landed and spun himself past the shooter, slamming him into his partner and gaining momentum from the move. Three huge strides took him into the andro group. He had just squeezed through and away when the Hounds' next shots hit. Shrieks tore the air as the train slowed to a stop at another platform. Jeddin hurled himself from the car and out of the station as the Hounds fought their way through the tangle of andros in varying states of brain seizure. Why not him? Time to get to familiar places. A recessed door in the busy corridor now, a door no one used, opened slowly and heavily under his hand. He closed it tight behind himself, fumbled his way through a small chamber, found a second door, and emerged on a platform illuminated only by a very faint wisp of light from far above. Down to his left, he took the ancient spiral stairs four at a time, his feet slipping in foul wet muck, his left shoulder bouncing hard against the slimy wall, his right hand flailing to keep him from pitching off the railless stairs into the three-hundred-level pit of the shaft.