The Glass Galago Read Free Page A

isn’t it? A woman made of glass.”
    â€œI’ll never forgive myself for what she’s suffering,” Bosh said. “We meant to open a clinic here in the Wake. I promised my people I wouldn’t mishandle this.”
    â€œThen take action, Kir.” Parrish looked almost surprised to find himself speaking. “The reporter from Foghorn would listen. Talk to someone about the people you’ve helped. Your silence merely makes it easier to blame you.”
    Bosh looked startled. “I’ll consider it. Thank you.”
    Gale gave him her best approximation of a motherly pat and they said their goodbyes.
    As they walked away, she said to Parrish: “You thought he was making monstrosities, didn’t you? For fun?”
    â€œI—”
    They both sensed something wrong at the same time.
    The three sailors from the dinner ferry were following them.
    Gale could imagine what was meant to happen next. The trio would harass Parrish, presumably about the dead Convenor that reporter had mentioned. He’d crawl into his shell, forcing them to throw the first punch. All they wanted was to leave him lumped up and moaning on the deck and then scamper away when the Watch turned up.
    â€œIs your pride going to be wounded if we skip the brawl?”
    He brightened. “Should we run for it?”
    Her respect for him went up another notch. “Never set off the chase instinct.”
    â€œMeaning?”
    Letting out a shriek that could’ve cut bone, she clutched at her chest. The three kids jumped, as if she’d appeared from thin air.
    â€œSomebody—somebody—” she staggered to the rail, dry-heaved, and collapsed.
    For a breath, nobody moved. Then Parrish caught on. “Oh no! Someone call a medic! Help!”
    He was a terrible actor, but they had been drinking.
    One of their would-be attackers took off at a run, calling for the ship’s medical officer. A second wavered, indecisive.
    The septer, Birch, stepped forward. “I’m a medic,” she said. She bent to loosen Gale’s collar.
    Gale heaved a couple times, hoping to slow her down by threatening to regurgitate warm stew all over her. “Arrrgh.”
    No good.
    â€œFaking…?” Birch said, under her breath. Then, louder: “She’s faking.”
    Too late. She was crouching over Gale, making it an easy matter to snap a knee into her guts. Gale bunted her just hard enough to knock the wind out.
    The remaining sailor charged, but Parrish tripped him, slinging him around as he plunged off-balance, then pinning him against the rail.
    Gale pushed the gasping sailor off her, climbing to her feet. By now the third guy was returning, but he had a Watchman and a medic in tow. No chance of a fight now.
    â€œHere she is,” Gale said cheerily, and the medic pounced on the winded septer.
    Gale tucked her arm into Parrish’s and sauntered off.
    â€œYou’re a coward, Garland Parrish!” one of the men yelled. “Hiding behind an old lady—coward!”
    If Parrish was bothered by the rebuke, of course, it didn’t show on his face.
    â€œWell. I reckon that saved us twenty minutes, anyway.”
    â€œOnly ten, given that you fight dirty.”
    â€œIt’s how I got to be such an upright old lady.”
    A page trotted up. “Kir Feliachild? You’re wanted on Constitution .”
    â€œCome on, kid. Convene must be taking a break.”
    â€œShall we taxi back?”
    She hesitated: flying at night bothered her a little. Then she climbed aboard. As they lofted upward, she said, “You think we’ll be scrapping with your former mates whenever we visit the Fleet?”
    â€œIt interferes with your operating quietly, doesn’t it?” he said. “I’m sorry for that.”
    â€œYou puzzle me, Parrish.”
    â€œMmm?”
    â€œThe effort you make to be unflappable. People fling offal in your face. I’ve seen it three