Rules of Conflict Read Online Free PDF Page A

face, she appeared
the well-to-do Feliciana, a mature lady of business. Perfume dealer, in this
case.
    Appearances could be deceiving.
    “It’s a long story.” Jani entered the main work area, where a man
and woman watched over the array that packed the rolls of perfumed adhesive
patchlets into cartons. “Maybe I’ll tell you about him sometime.”
    “Ah, man trouble!” Ileana clapped her hands in glee. “Finally, my
paper robot shows humanity!” She followed Jani into the tiny employee locker
room. “Bring him to lunch tomorrow, Tasia. I must meet him.”
    Tasia . Jani sat down on the narrow bench in front of her
locker. Oh yes, a “T” name; lately, she found it hard to keep track. “Sure.
When and where?”
    Ileana debated times and places out loud; Jani stifled a yawn as
she willed her voice into the background. Post-augie fatigue had overtaken
post-augie jitters more quickly than she remembered. But then, lately, lots of
things were happening differently than she remembered.
    The entry comport buzzed; Ileana, still nattering about
restaurants, left to answer it. As soon as she was alone, Jani keyed into her
locker and removed a small duffel. The Service surplus bag was made of stiff,
dark blue polycanvas, and contained everything she owned. She had taken a risk
leaving it there, but she hadn’t dared take it into Neoclona, and she didn’t
trust the security of her flat.
    Jani did a quick inventory of her duffel’s contents. My
preflight check. Two pairs of dark grey coveralls, rolled into tight tubes.
A pair of battered black boots. Assorted underwear. Her keepsakes: a toy
soldier, a holocard depiction of two sailracers, and a gold ring with a red
stone.
    She examined her boots wistfully. Val’s hikers chafed her ankles
despite the padding, but felt tight around her feet. That meant her feet had
swelled. If I take his boots off, I won’t be able to get mine on . She
pushed her old faithfuls aside and dug farther into the bag.
    The scanproof material that lined the false bottom of her duffel
had cost Jani most of her cash reserve, but would have been worth it at twice
the price. Within the slippery blue envelope rested her shooter, a bulky
Service-issue over twenty years old, and assorted gadgetry hooked together by a
braided length of red cloth. The devices allowed her to reset a touchlock or
interfere with an eavesdropping device. Nothing to strike fear in the hearts of
an antiterrorist squad, but they would draw the notice of Treasury Customs and
Transport Ministry Security.
    Jani stuffed the gadgets back in the envelope, then removed a
cracked plastic case from a well-padded pocket. “Hello, you,” she said as she
unzipped the case and removed her scanpack.
    The palm-sized oval’s scratched black cover shimmered dully in the
glare of the overhead lighting. Driven by Jani’s farmed brain tissue, the
device functioned as the repository of a quarter century’s worth of documents
knowledge. It would have won her envious stares from the other doc techs Jani
had met at Felix Majora’s Government Hall, and pointed questions from Ileana.
Only Registry-listed documents examiners carried scanpacks, and only four
others in the forty-nine-planet Commonwealth carried ones that looked like
Jani’s. And they all worked on Earth.
    Pointed questions, followed by pointed sticks . Jani stuffed
the device back in her duffel and sniffed the air again. Isabellita. The
light floral scent had become popular in some rather far-flung regions of the
Commonwealth, a reason sufficient to explain the small perfume house’s ’round-the-clock
operation. Every morning, boxload after boxload departed the small loading
dock, bound for the rich colonies of the J-Loop as well as their not-so-rich
brethren in the Channel and the Outer Circle.
    Wonder if External Revenue’s caught onto the fact there’s a lot
of sweet-smelling sewage out there lately . Jani grinned. The perfume was a
water-soluble concoction that could be