a standalone unit he could just grab and run off with, but the safe’s back was clearly fused to the wall. “Open it,” he said in the same cow’s-moo voice he’d used before.
I crouched next to it, making it look like a random choice that I happened to be between the safe and him. I placed my thumb on the little scanning plate, which of course not only read the pattern of ridges but also checked the temperature and looked for a pulse. I then uttered my favorite quote: “‘Experience has taught me never to trust a policeman. Just when you think one’s all right, he turns legit.’”
The lock moved aside with a chunk, I grabbed the pistol from within—one should always have a spare of anything vital to one’s profession—rolled onto my side, swung the gun around, and aimed it at Moose.
The big transfer stared at me. “What are you going to do?” he said. “Shoot me? It’ll just bounce off.” He lifted his gun higher, as if taking a bead. “I, on the other hand—”
“—still don’t have what you came for.” I jerked my head toward the safe. He could see it had a few things in it—I kept some mementos of Earth in there—but the diary was conspicuously absent. I was still more or less supine, and he was towering over me from the other side of the couch. I shifted my aim from his chest to the ceiling-mounted lighting unit and squeezed off a shot. The room was plunged into darkness. I was hoping he didn’t have the infrared-vision upgrade, whereas I knew the layout of my apartment intimately. I sprang to my feet and worked my way along the wall my place shared with Crazy Gustav’s unit to the wall that separated this room from my bedroom.
My neighbors might call the police at the sound of a gunshot, and the police might come if they were called—but I was surely on my own for at least the next few minutes. I was betting Moose didn’t have much experience with a revolver; the safety had still been on, I’d noted, when he’d been aiming it my way. Still, if he did get hold of me, he doubtless had strength enough to snap my neck.
Being naked, my footfalls weren’t making any noise on the carpetless floor, whereas Moose’s clodhoppers were coming down with thuds. If I could get to the bathroom, I could lock the door behind me and hole up in the alloquartz shower stall until help arrived—an ignominious way to survive, but what the heck.
But before I’d gotten that far, the damn main door to my apartment swung open, emitting light from the corridor. Of course: Moose had broken the lock on it when he’d let himself in. Silhouetted on the threshold was Dr. Rory Pickover. Moose swung around and fired—I guess he did know how to use the gun after all. Pickover was propelled backward by the impact and stumbled into the opposite corridor wall. He winced in pain as he looked down at his torso, then looked up with his plastic features drawn together. His voice was full of barely controlled rage. “I am getting really tired,” he hissed, “of people shooting bits of metal into my chest.” He crouched low then leapt, all his transfer’s strength against Mars’s feeble gravity. It was impressive—you fall in slow-mo on Mars, but you leap even faster than you can on Earth—and he slammed into Moose’s chest, knocking him backward onto the couch.
I had never seen a transfer hit another transfer before, and, to be honest, Pickover fought like a girl: like a super-strong, excimer-powered girl. He smashed Moose in the face, and the sound was like two metal buckets crashing together. Moose was now seated on the couch, and I got my arm around his neck from behind. I couldn’t cut off his air supply, but I could flip him over the back of the couch, and I did so. Pickover, meanwhile, grabbed the bottom of the couch in the little gap between it and the floor caused by the stubby couch legs, and he flipped the thing right over, and then he pushed it like a snowplow blade against the wall, trapping Moose in the triangular space.
I’d danced out of the way just in time and got to my feet, aiming the gun at the opening nearest Moose’s head, in case he tried to come out. Pickover sat on the couch, and after a