Free Mary Rosenblum by Horizons Page A

and she had a valid ticket.
     
    She waved it in front of the scanner. Sure enough, the departure chime sounded and the car shivered.
    Ahni grabbed on to one of the ranked handrails forming a semicircle around a vid window that would offer a stunning view as the climber ascended or descended. Now it allowed her to see into the travelplaza. A young couple waved. Ahni scanned the crowd and spotted the dogs immediately. One was the man who had darted her in the axle. The other was unfamiliar, an unselect northern chiinese.
    They stared at the departing car, their faces revealing no emootion. She frowned, wondering what allied Li Zhen and her brother. The picture blinked, and now the window showed the diamond brilliance of a million distant suns and the dwindling crown of lights that was the Elevator platform. She turned away from the window and made her way to her seat, pulling herself along by the handholds along the rows of recliners. A single attendant cruised up–a downsider, she guessed from his body mass–and offered help.
    She found her seat, a relatively luxurious recliner, she supposed, but not a welcoming prospect for the long drop. Especially since significant gravity would be a long time coming. They wouldn’t achieve 50
    percent Earthnormal until they down-climbed to the 2,600 km leveL With a sigh, Ahni pulled herself into the seat and snugged herself to the cushions with the mesh netting provided. Coming up, she had traveled Business Class and her grief had disstracted her. Her smile twisted and she banished it, putting on the face of mild confusion that went with the sari and her act in the travel plaza. She was not about to underestimate her brother again.
    She stowed her shopping bag in the bin below her. The seat sprang to life, elongating, cushioning her head, back, legs. It occcurred to her that it was probably made of the same stuff as Dane’s ship with its melting walls. Next to her, a lanky man with a unseelected celtic face hunched over a portable holodesk, his fingers flying among the cryptic icons. Orbital native, she guessed, assessing his lanky build and lack of muscle mass, a bit younger than her, maybe early twenties. A fiberlight inlay circled his wrist, emerald green, in an intricately woven pattern. He glanced her way, no hint of curiossity in his face, looked quickly away and back to his desk.
    Ahni closed her eyes, at full awareness in spite of her relaxed posture, searching for any predator hint among the passengers.
    What were Xai and Li Zhen up to? Leaving her senses alert so that she would notice any focused attention, she shifted into Pause. Methodically she sorted through her memories of her brother’s reecent activities … up to the moment of his apparent assassination. From this perspective, they reeked of stealth.
    I do not really know my brother. The thought troubled her. A lot. It made her vulnerable.
    SHE SPENT THE first twenty-four hours of the down-climb awake and aware, pulling herself around the Economy level of the climber, brushing up against passengers and crew, making eye contact whennever possible–the best, if most dangerous, way to startle a revelation from someone shielding their intentions. At the end of that time, exhausted, she decided that she was safe enough, unless one of the absent crew members tending to First Class or Business was in her brother’s pay.
    She decided to assume not–that would be farsighted even for him–and finally dropped into Pause to induce sleep. She slept without waking for twelve solid hours. When she finally waked, she could discern a down , a slight sense of weight that slackened the mesh net holding her into the recliner. Gratefully she released it, yawning, wincing as her muscles protested the long slumber in the confines of the recliner. The minimal lights illuminating only the aisles between the recliners suggested that this was night, by local Earth time. Sure enough, the digital clock displaying Elevaator time told her it