Free Drifter's Run by William C. Dietz Page A

insect around. "The name's Dee… and I don't want it."
    Brodie sat down. "Sure you do. It's prime stuff. Try it."
    Dee smiled. "Do you feel something touching your crotch?"
    The man frowned. "Yeah… but it doesn't feel like your hand."
    Dee nodded her agreement. "That's right, bozo. Now listen carefully. I don't want your drink. I don't want you. Go tell your friends a lie. Tell 'em I'm meeting you later, tell 'em I'm a guy in drag, tell 'em anything you want. But do it now… or I'll blow your balls off."
    Brodie gulped, turned suddenly white, and stood up. For a moment he considered some bluster, a statement to salve his wounded ego, but something about the expression on Dee's face froze the words in his throat. As he turned and walked away Brodie was organizing a story for his friends.
    The two glasses of Dista Mist were still where Brodie had left them. Not wishing to see such a valuable substance go to waste, Dee tossed one off and nursed the other.
    She gave the room one more scan, hoping to see a face that matched her memory, knowing it was unlikely. Still, a bounty hunter's work is never done, and you never know when a piece of crud will float to the surface right in front of you. The place was full of creeps but none with a price on their heads. Dee would wait.
    Waiting was something she knew how to do. As a little girl she'd waited for someone to show up at the state-run orphanage and take her home. As a marine she'd waited for a purpose that never came. As a woman she'd waited for a man who never showed up. So what the hell, she had all day, and could wait a little longer.
    Lando had expected something primitive, something in keeping with Dista's undeveloped landscape, but the vidplex was quite sophisticated. It seemed that the settlers, and especially their children, were hungry for the pleasures left behind.
    Sensing an opportunity to cash in on that hunger, a local entrepreneur had put together a full-scale entertainment center, complete with neurogames, holodramas, and compuplays.
    The compuplays were Melissa's favorite. They took place in a large open space. For a fee, each participant received an audio compulink, a costume, and a starting position somewhere in the room.
    Then, when sufficient players had been signed up, the computer would take them through a play. Sometimes it was a classic, sometimes contemporary, and sometimes entirely ad lib.
    As the young actors and actresses were prompted through their parts by the computer, holo-projected scenery appeared and disappeared, and a partisan audience clapped their approval.
    The bolder and more experienced players often made up lines of their own, and hearing this, the computer would juggle the others to match. The result was a play in which the actors could lean on the computer or use their own imaginations.
    A rather involved romantic comedy had just come to a hilarious end, and Melissa, who'd played the part of the female lead's best friend, had just rushed into the viewing stands. Lando smiled at her frenzied approach. She still wore her costume and was beaming from ear to ear. The long-flowing party dress made a swishing noise as she moved.
    "Wasn't it funny? Didn't Lisa do a nice job as Margaret? Oh, Pik, I had so much fun! I wish Daddy were here." She put a hand to her ear. "The computer says there's a mystery coming up next… can I please?"
    Lando looked at his wrist term and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Melissa. We promised to meet your father at 1600 hours and it's 1545 right now. Lose the costume and let's go."
    She tried an exaggerated pout. "Please?"
    "Nope."
    Melissa laughed. "Okay, I'll change and be right back."
    Fifteen minutes later they were ankle deep in mud out front of Port City Mercantile. There were people and shaggy-looking Dibs all over the place but no Cap. Lando looked at his wrist term. "We're only five minutes late. He'd wait for us wouldn't he?"
    Melissa frowned and looked across the street. Lando followed her