Never trust an elf

Gorb and Juan had died on one of his runs, but he hadn't taken it as hard as this time. He had done his duty by them and taken in their widows and kids. They all lived in the hall now, a part of the tumult that made the place home. Now Kham would also have to look after Guido and the rest of John Parker's brood, at least until they could make their own way on the street.

Lissa emerged from the kitchen and chased the kids outside, telling them to take advantage of the dry weather. With winter coming, there wouldn't be many more nice days. She smiled at Kham, a sign of her improved attitude since he had turned over the cred-stick from the elves' run. Less to worry about, he supposed.

They were set for awhile, although he, too, had been worried about getting paid for the run. That worry nagged at him even after Rabo pumped the access codes for the certified cred memos on Johnson's disk.

Elves were known for paying with fairy gold, phantom credit that wasn't there when you tried to spend it. Not until Kham got word from his fixer that the transfer had gone through was he satisfied that the creds were good. Well, as good as any Matrix money could be- what with all those cowboy deckers playing games out there.

With the kids out from underfoot, Kham could no longer ignore that he had a visitor. Neko. The Jap kid-the guy was so small that Kham kept thinking of him as a kid, although he had learned that Neko was at least as old as he was-was as curious and self-possessed as his namesake. He prowled the hall, poking his nose into everything, or sprawled in one of the chairs, looking like he lived there. He made himself every bit as at home as one of the gang. Now that the kids were gone and it was quiet, the catboy would be after Kham again, badgering him for an introduction to Sally. Just like he'd been doing for the past two days.

Neko smiled at him from across the room, but just as the catboy was about to speak there came a hooting from outside, the standard signal that someone was headed for the hall. It wasn't the danger call, though, so Kham assumed that the spotters must have recognized the visitors as friends. More visitors-the last thing Kham wanted. Jord heard the call, too; he came barreling down the stairs and skidded into the main room, nearly crashing as he scampered for the window.

"Jord, go on back to your ma." "Aw, dad. I just wanna see who it is," Jord complained as he slipped open the spyhole in the board covering the window, and glued his eye to the spot. "Geez, it's elves!"

Neko sat up sharply and exchanged glances with Kham. The catboy tensed, hand close to his side.

Reaching for a weapon, Kham thought, considering the same option. But his heavy stuff was upstairs and all he had were a few blades and a popgun. These elves had better be friends. "Jord, go see your ma. Now!"

The kid jumped at Kham's shout and beat feet. Kham went to the entry. Just as he was reaching for the handle, the door opened and a tall elf in black leathers and chrome studs barged in. The white shag of his hair bobbed as he turned his head in a survey of the room.

"Greetings, Sir Tusk. You are well, I trust."

"I don't remember inviting ya in, Dodger."

" 'Twas surely an oversight for such a well-mannered ork as yourself.''

"The Dodger?"

The elf turned to see who spoke his name so tentatively, and his eyes widened briefly in surprise. "You're a long way from home, Sir Cat."

Kham looked from one to the other. "Ya know each odder?"

Neko simply said, "Hai," but the elf was more elaborate, as usual. "In truth, we have done some small business in the past, working our way through a tangled web of deceit in order to make the world a safer place. Though we disported in different dance halls, we moved to the same music."

Also as usual, the elf hid what he meant to say in flowery, oblique phrases, but Kham thought he caught the drift. "Da dogboy's big run?"

Dodger turned to him, his eyes wide in mock surprise. "I am amazed at the speed with which you leap to the conclusion, Sir Tusk. More amazed, however, that you are correct. Have you used the proceeds of your last run to have a brain implanted? Nay, nay, no need to answer, for I spoke too quickly. Surely, had your brain capacity increased, you would not have taken your recent excursion into the country.''

"I ain't in no mood for your mouth, elf."

"Your manner is surly as ever, Sir Tusk, but perhaps you are correct that this is not the time for you and / to talk. This is not a social call. Perhaps some other day when things are not so busy.''