Descending Road - SHE EXTRACTED A LEG FROM HER MOUTH by Dana W. Paxson

SHE EXTRACTED A LEG FROM HER MOUTH

1560 4D

“It’s time for the show,” I protested. “Can’t it wait?”

“No,” he said. The three others moved up to flank him, just behind, a man and two brawny women. One woman carried a large beam weapon pointed at the ceiling.

We filed back in. “Beetle?” I asked them.

“What?”

I gestured to the half-full tray. “We’ve got plenty to eat.”

The woman with the gun squeezed past Grioskin, who stayed near me. She looked greedily at the tray. “From Caladrina‘s, I think.”

“He makes the best,” I said, wondering how long I could keep this up.

“Please sit down,” the first man said.

I did.

“The results of your test were anomalous. We apparently failed to get a proper sample, or else something polluted it. We require two samples this time. Please extend your hand.” He held up the sphere and waited. The gunner edged herself nearer to the tray.

I followed orders, and then the second man asked me softly, “Do you know a man named Quessnar Viustin?”

“Who?” My father! I knew my surprise showed. How would I make it seem honest?

“Quessnar Viustin. It appears that you know this name.”

“Yes, I do.” I looked down. Someone drew in a breath and held it. “He saved my life a few years ago.”

“Would you please tell us about that?” A gentle tone. Deceiving.

“I was in an accident. He took me to his place and did the med work. I guess he was a medman for miners, or something like that. I wrote a song for him.” I heard the held breath let itself go.

“What kind of accident?”

“I broke a leg falling off a stage.” I was actually falling out of an access tunnel.

“Here?”

“No. A little place way down in Sobi. It closed.” That was true all the time in Sobi.

“Do you know where he lives?”

“No, not any more. After the last reloc, he moved.” This last sentence was true.

“Which bones?”

“What?”

“Which bones did you break?”

“Just this one.” I pointed to the outer bone in my lower leg.

“And your life was in danger from that?”

“No.”

“How was your life in danger?”

“Someone was chasing me.” In fact, it had been the police.

“Who?”

“The police.”

“Why?”

I looked him full in the face. “They thought I was someone else.”

He didn’t back off. “Why did you run?”

“You’ve been doing this long enough to be an investigator, and you don’t know why young people run?” At this, I heard a muffled snort from one of the two women.

“Why did you run?”

“They didn’t look like police when they were chasing me. They looked like coll streetrats after some fun.”

He leaned back. With a crunch, the woman with the gun bit down on a beetle. “Not bad at all,” she said. “Good hot honey sauce.” She extracted a leg from her mouth, tossed it to the floor.

The proprietor looked in, then hastily disappeared. A rising and falling hum came from the corridor. The audience was getting impatient.

“We’re staying for the show,” my interrogator announced. “We’ve heard a lot about you, Thringe. We’d like to see your act.”

If it hadn’t been for the usuli I’d drunk, I’d have been trembling. But instead I said, “You won’t like it.”

“At least these two might,” he said, indicating the two women with him. “Come on.” They left.

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


	SHE EXTRACTED A LEG FROM HER MOUTH 1560 4D “It’s time for the show,” I protested. “Can’t it wait?” “No,” he said. The three others moved up to flank him, just behind, a man and two brawny women. One woman carried a large beam weapon pointed at the ceiling. We filed back in. “Beetle?” I asked them. “What?” I gestured to the half-full tray. “We’ve got plenty to eat.” The woman with the gun squeezed past Grioskin, who stayed near me. She looked greedily at the tray. “From Caladrina‘s, I think.” “He makes the best,” I said, wondering how long I could keep this up. “Please sit down,” the first man said. I did. “The results of your test were anomalous. We apparently failed to get a proper sample, or else something polluted it. We require two samples this time. Please extend your hand.” He held up the sphere and waited. The gunner edged herself nearer to the tray. I followed orders, and then the second man asked me softly, “Do you know a man named Quessnar Viustin?” “Who?” My father! I knew my surprise showed. How would I make it seem honest? “Quessnar Viustin. It appears that you know this name.” “Yes, I do.” I looked down. Someone drew in a breath and held it. “He saved my life a few years ago.” “Would you please tell us about that?” A gentle tone. Deceiving. “I was in an accident. He took me to his place and did the med work. I guess he was a medman for miners, or something like that. I wrote a song for him.” I heard the held breath let itself go. “What kind of accident?” “I broke a leg falling off a stage.” I was actually falling out of an access tunnel. “Here?” “No. A little place way down in Sobi. It closed.” That was true all the time in Sobi. “Do you know where he lives?” “No, not any more. After the last reloc, he moved.” This last sentence was true. “Which bones?” “What?” “Which bones did you break?” “Just this one.” I pointed to the outer bone in my lower leg. “And your life was in danger from that?” “No.” “How was your life in danger?” “Someone was chasing me.” In fact, it had been the police. “Who?” “The police.” “Why?” I looked him full in the face. “They thought I was someone else.” He didn’t back off. “Why did you run?” “You’ve been doing this long enough to be an investigator, and you don’t know why young people run?” At this, I heard a muffled snort from one of the two women. “Why did you run?” “They didn’t look like police when they were chasing me. They looked like coll streetrats after some fun.” He leaned back. With a crunch, the woman with the gun bit down on a beetle. “Not bad at all,” she said. “Good hot honey sauce.” She extracted a leg from her mouth, tossed it to the floor. The proprietor looked in, then hastily disappeared. A rising and falling hum came from the corridor. The audience was getting impatient. “We’re staying for the show,” my interrogator announced. “We’ve heard a lot about you, Thringe. We’d like to see your act.” If it hadn’t been for the usuli I’d drunk, I’d have been trembling. But instead I said, “You won’t like it.” “At least these two might,” he said, indicating the two women with him. “Come on.” They left.