Read The City Who Fought for Free Online

wrong, I'll answer for it." I swear, if I had hair I'd tear it out. Softshells have some advantages after all. But, what is this . . . this . . . wench trying to do to me?
    "Great! If he gets killed or maimed, you'll accept a discommodation? Well, how big of you!" Channa cut Simeon off when he began to splutter a protest. "By now you should know that I listen to what you say, even when you don't. I promise you, Simeon. I will always call you on it when you try to shut me up or fob me off. You're not going to shuffle this one off, buddy. I won't let you."
    "What are you talking about? I didn't put him in this situation. I want to help the kid. Hell, I am helping. I just don't see any need to rush him. The fact that you saw him may mean that he's almost ready to come out on his own. I'm certainly opposed to coercing him. Geeeze but you're hostile! You're so willing to believe the worst about me that every time I talk to you I feel like my circuits are being realigned. Am I really such an evil bastard? Or," and he changed his tone from plaintive to trenchant, "could it be that you really are the most bloody-minded, impossible woman I have ever met?"
    "Oh, Simeon," she drawled, "you have no idea how difficult I can be. Just cross me if you want to find out."
    A chill settled in Simeon's mind. Does that mean that so far she's been reasonable? Gah!
    "You're about to become a father, Simeon. That's what full and complete responsibility for a child means. Congratulations, it's a boy. If your word is good."
    "They're not going to let me adopt a kid."
    "Why not? You've been extensively tested for emotional stability, you have a responsible job. You even appear to care very much about his feelings. Do you think such a wounded child, of his age, is going to have prospective parents lining up to take care of him? I think you've got a very good chance."
    She clapped her hands and rubbed them together gleefully. "So . . . let's get to work on it."

    * * *
Mart'an presented the menu with a flourish and left them with a bow.
    Channa looked around wide-eyed at the dimly lit, subdued elegance of the Perimeter Restaurant. There were even actual beeswax candles burning on the tables; a fortune for material and air-bills both.
    No pleasure like spending somebody else's money, she thought. The Perimeter was paying; something of a goodwill gesture. And it was logical for her to get acquainted with one of the station's premier tourist attractions.
    SSS-900's finest restaurant was just down from the north-polar docking extension; the outer wall was a hundred-meter sheet of synthmet set on clear. Stars rolled huge and bright beyond—fixed stars and the frosty arch of the Snakeshead Nebula, and the bright moving points of light that were shuttles and tugs.
    Within, the floor was of glossy black stone set with squares of gold—SSS-900 processed a lot of gold as a by-product—and the tables were made of real and precious wood, glossy under the snowy linen tablecloths. Waiters moved amid a quiet chinking of silverware, savory smells wafting from the platters they carried. A live orchestra played something soft and ancient.
    "Stars and comets—a little rich for this outposter!" Channa said. "I'd heard of the Perimeter, but somehow I never expected to actually come here."
    Patsy grinned. "C'mon now, Hawking Station wasn't an asteroid minin' center. Leastwise, not of the sort our sainted Simeon cut his teeth on."
    "Well, no . . . but I couldn't afford anything like this when I was at home. Didn't have the time, either.
    After I graduated and started pulling assignments, I've been mostly at outposts. Worse than Simeon's."
    Waiters filled water glasses, laid their napkins in their laps, brought warm rolls and softened butter.
    Everything except brush our teeth and massage our feet, Channa thought. It was a little unnerving.
    Most places you asked for the selection, told the table what you wanted, and a float brought the meal to you. The sheer expense of