GeneStorm: City in the Sky Read Free

shark woman’s voice had a decided Australian drawl. “You’ll go through ‘em too fast!”
    “Salty cracker later?” The immense bird dipped its head, crest rustling. “Salty cracker?”
    “At lunchtime! But we’re going to dig about for a bit. You like that.” She regarded her cockatoo across the rims of her spectacles. “Now, eyes peeled and watch out for visitors. I’ll see if I can find you some sugar roots.”
    The bird danced its head up and down and chuckled, well pleased. He rolled along in Snapper’s wake, walking with a pirate’s gait, peering about the ruins with an experienced eye.
    In the vast time since the old world fell, most ruins had become completely overgrown. Old buildings within three days ride of Snapper’s home were nothing but rubble mounds, littered here and there with the bodies of ancient trucks and ground cars. But here and there, underground chasms lay beneath the ruins, and some of these could yield useful treasures. Snapper moved up amongst the rocks and weird weeds, thumping the butt of her shovel against the ground and listening for the slightest hint of hollows. She searched carefully across the south face of one mound, then down along the parch marks that showed the presence of an ancient wall. But the ground beneath her feet seemed solid. An ancient truck stood beside a maze of rubble, with a huge tree growing out of the control cab. Two car bodies beside it had already been stripped of windows, wheel motors and doors.
    To any other eye, the entire tangle of old rubble would have seemed utterly fallow. But the shark had some definite advantages over other prospectors. Crouching close to the ground, she hunted her muzzle back and forth with her eyes closed, tracing down a strange tickle and tingle that came from the ground beside the cars.
    Snapper’s tail fins twitched as she crept slowly about, sensing for electrical fields hidden in the dust. Feeling a faint prickle in her senses she narrowed it down – then quite suddenly felt a definite line hidden beneath the dust.
    “Bingo!”
    Behind her, Onan the cockatoo danced in approval – Snapper’s cleverness was always a source of pure pleasure for the bird. The shark took her mattock and slammed it into the dirt. She chipped down past the rock-hard topsoil, finally reaching a layer of looser rubble and blackened ash. Heartened by the ever widening hole, the girl hacked deeper, clearing aside a mass of old brick and broken stone.
    Excitement boiled in her heart.
    Snapper was an explorer.
    There! On its side beneath an old rubble pile – an ancient motorcycle. The vehicle had been trapped beneath a falling wall. Although the tires, upholstery and instruments were long gone, the frame had been made from non-metallic polymers. The wheels were largely intact – each hub held an electric motor. They made excellent salvage – packed full of goodies that could be used to make power generators. The shark whistled to Onan and the cockatoo came trotting over, bringing saddlebags full of tools. Snapper set to work with practiced care.
    A scatter of bones was trapped beneath the bike. Snapper pulled aside an old and broken helmet, carefully removing the bones inside. Sure enough, a small blue chip fell out amongst the dross.
    The old chips had apparently been an implanted form of identification. Average citizens seemingly had a white chip. Those higher up the totem pole had carried red – this was the standard trade currency now used in villages. Blues were nigh impossible to find, and so were worth far, far more. The shark girl breathed on the chip and buffed it off: the thing might be a useful reserve some day. She tucked it beneath the fur turban that ran about her steel helmet, then smoothed the helm’s long streaming horsehair crest back into place.
    The bike motors were choked with dirt, but the power hubs were not too corroded. They would fetch a decent chip or two. Snapper took everything she could – polymer panels,