Free Odd Girl Out by Timothy Zahn Page A

imagination. Regardless, New Tigris suddenly found itself in the position of a jilted girlfriend. All alone, the gravy train dried up, and with a couple of wheezing modified torchferries her only contact with her former boyfriend.”
    “But the colonists must have expected something like that would happen eventually.”
    “I doubt the plan was any big secret,” I said. “And to be fair, most of the people here don’t seem to have been all that bothered by it.” I looked at a group of four teenagers idly tossing a small ball back and forth by one of the broken-windowed houses ahead. “Unfortunately, others just gave up. Interesting.”
    “What’s interesting?”
    “That group propping up the front of the bar,” I said, nodding toward a tavern a couple of doors past the four teens where a half-dozen men were idling around the doorway. “Notice anything unusual about them?”
    “In this neighborhood?” Bayta countered.
    “I’m serious,” I said. “Note the age range. Everywhere else it’s been teens or middle-aged or whatever. Very age-segregated. But the group up there has a teen, a young adult, two thirty-somethings, and that white-haired man has to be at least sixty.”
    Bayta digested that for a couple more steps. “And you think that’s significant?”
    “I have no idea,” I said. “But it makes me curious enough to want to check it out. You thirsty?”
    She sighed. “Do I have a choice?”
    “Sure,” I said. “You can wait outside.”
    “In that case, I’m thirsty.”
    “Good. Let’s get something to drink.”
    We’d made it two more steps when the four teens between us and the tavern detached themselves from their abandoned house and casually re-formed themselves into a line across the walkway in front of us.
    At my side, I felt Bayta tense up. “Just keep walking,” I murmured to her, eyeing the youths and shuffling quickly through my options.
    I didn’t have many, and none of those were particularly attractive. I’d seen enough gangs in my time to know that any sign of weakness, such as turning around or crossing the street, would probably be like throwing raw meat into the shark tank.
    On the other hand, showing too much strength, such as drawing my Glock, might easily escalate matters way beyond the point where I wanted them right now.
    Which left only one real option: to continue on and hope my diplomatic skills had improved since my days in Westali.
    I waited until we were within a few steps of the line and then nodded genially toward them. “Afternoon,” I said, smiling pleasantly. “Nice day, isn’t it?”
    “Depends,” one of the two boys in the middle said. His voice had the gruff toughness to it that I’d heard many a time in classic dit rec dramas. “You a cop?”
    “Why, you think a cop would be interested in what you and your friends are doing?” I asked, still smiling. “No, we’re just tourists.”
    “Tourists don’t come to Zumurrud,” he retorted darkly. “Who are you working for?”
    The mixed group by the bar, I noticed, had stopped talking and were watching our little drama. “I’m not working for anyone,” I said, taking Bayta’s arm and bringing us to a halt three meters back from the line. “Like I said, we’re just tourists.”
    The kid said a couple of rude words, again straight out of a dit rec drama. Apparently, when he wasn’t hanging around street corners he was loitering in front of his entertainment center. “Yeah, right,” he said.
    “Fine; you caught me,” I said, giving Bayta’s arm a gentle but steady push to the side. She took the hint and eased a long step away from me. “I’m a special investigator for the Terran Confederation Opinion Bureau. Tell me, what do you and your friends like most about living on New Tigris?”
    I’d expected that to do it, and it did. Glaring at me, he stepped out of line and threw a punch straight at my stomach.
    At least he hadn’t learned his fighting technique from the dit rec