Tales from the New Republic Read Online Free

around the pack to hold it together and it was finished. The object didn’t look anything like a datapack, but it was the right size and shape and weight. With the proper distraction and the right moves, and maybe a little bit of luck tossed in, it should work.
    After digging into her hip pack for a stray cigarra she kept around for just such occasions, she lit it and stuck it between two fingers of her right hand, picking up her glass of liqueur with the fingertips of the same hand. Then, with the decoy datapack concealed as best she could in her left hand, she unsealed the door and headed back into the main tapcafe room.
    The kid hadn’t moved in the few minutes she’d been gone, nor had the contact he was obviously expecting made an appearance. Holding her decoy datapack unobtrusively at her side, putting a noticeable stagger into her walk now, she started through the crowd toward her table, this time heading for the narrow gap behind the kid. She dodged a drunk Barrckli, sent a warning glare at an unshaven nerf herder type who looked as if he might be starting to get ideas about her, and passed behind the kid—
    And with a sudden lurch as if she’d been tripped, she fell heavily against the back of his chair and splashed the contents of her glass across the burning tip of her cigarra onto the back of his jacket.
    The liqueur ignited with a muffled whoosh into a small but very satisfying fireball.
    “Look out!” Moranda gasped, dropping both glass and cigarra onto the floor and grabbing over his right shoulder for the edge of the tablecloth. She yanked it toward her, scattering glasses and tableware in all directions as she hauled it past the side of his head toward the flames dancing across the back of his jacket. Simultaneously, she tugged at the left lapel with the fingertips of her left hand. Reflexively, he swung his left arm back in response, giving her the necessary slack for pulling the blazing garment away from the back of his neck.
    And as she slapped vigorously at the already dying flames with the tablecloth, her left hand dipped down into the inside jacket pocket, lifting out the datapack and leaving her decoy behind in its place.
    “I’m so sorry,” she repeated over and over in her best embarrassed voice, still pounding the tablecloth across his shoulders even though the fire was already out as she slipped her prize into her hip pack behind her datapad. “So terribly sorry. My ankle went and—are you all right?”
    “I’m fine, I’m fine,” the kid growled, twisting half around to his right and grabbing at the tablecloth. “It’s out now, right?”
    “Oh yes,” she said, giving his back one final slap before letting him pull the now wadded tablecloth away from her. “I’m so sorry. Can I buy you a drink?”
    “No, forget it,” he said, waving her away and trying to turn a little farther around. Trying for a clearer look at her? “Just go away and leave me alone.”
    “Sure, of course,” Moranda said, easing around as she pretended to resettle his jacket back onto his shoulders, staying just out of his sight. Out of the corner of his eye she saw his hand steal beneath his jacket to the pocket. The fingers probed the shape of her decoy and fell away, apparently reassured. “I’m so sorry.”
    “Go away,” he repeated, starting to sound a little angry now. Clearly he wasn’t happy at having all this attention focused his way.
    “Yeah, sure.” Moranda stepped away to his left, and as he twisted his head in that direction, still trying for a clear look at her face, she turned her back to him and worked her way through the crowd toward her table.
    She reached it but didn’t sit down. The kid’s buyer could be here any time now, and she had no intention of being anywhere in the vicinity when he hauled her decoy triumphantly out of his pocket. Leaving the price of her drink on the table, she slouched her way to the door and out into the tangy Darkknell air. Time to find a nice,