Imperial Guard by Joseph O'Day

he was looking at a person or an automaton.
    “Well, sweet cakes, what do you say?” the woman persisted.
    Before he could find his voice, Unger interjected, “You’re wastin’ your time, slut. We don’t get paid till tomorrow.”
    The woman lost her smile and turned away to better prospects.
    “Stay away from the girls in these bars,” Unger advised. “They can give you all kinds of diseases, and if you’re not careful you can lose everything valuable that’s on you. If you need a tumble, it’s safer to use the houses provided by the military.”
    Brogan took a deep breath. “Seems I’ve got a lot to learn. I haven’t even . . .” He was cut short by a commotion at the door. Both men turned to see what was happening. Two men strode arrogantly into the dark and pungent room. The suddenly quiet throng opened a path for them as if by magic, except for one drunk patron whose back was to the approaching pair. One of the men promptly struck him with a thin, gleaming rod that, when not in use, was carried like a swagger stick under the arm. The effect far exceeded what Brogan had expected from such a light blow. The drunk was thrown six feet through the air, felling several bystanders as he landed. He lay writhing on the floor, opening and closing his mouth but making no sound.
    The strangers came to a stop about ten paces inside the door. Their heads swiveled as they swept the crowd with coldly confident eyes. A wide, white belt and holster held a hand gun at each waist. Dark, scarlet body suits were tucked neatly into knee-high, brilliant white boots. A scarlet cape interfaced with white hung to the waist, and a white helmet, which covered the neck, topped off the uniform.
    Leaning close to Brogan’s ear Unger muttered, “The scum use their neuro-whips like they were lords of the earth. Time to get outa here.”
    Unger led Brogan as unobtrusively as possible to a rear exit. Once outside they hurried to the main thoroughfare. “You’ve just gotten your first look at the high-and-mighty Imperial Guard. Pray they have no business with you next time you see them.”
    As they entered the busy street again, Brogan began to take note of his surroundings. Vehicular traffic soared overhead. Hawkers were selling their wares. Women with painted faces and scanty clothing were selling favors. Each block seemed to possess its own resident evangelist, offering to any who would listen a means of escaping the travails of this life. Nearly every race and nationality that Earth and her colonies could provide seemed to be represented in the mass of humanity. Modes of dress strange to Brogan and a mixture of languages made the scene exotic and exciting, but also unsettling.
    Unger explained that a taxi could be hired by climbing to special third-level stands. But a taxi was beyond their means. The subway would get them to their destination more cheaply. When they reached the subway platform, two gangs of youths were assaulting one another with wild abandon.
    When Unger began directing them around the skirmish in apparent unconcern, Brogan turned to him and said, “Sir, shouldn’t we do something about this?”
    “One more thing you have to learn about Earth, Private, is to mind your own business. If we got involved, any number of unpleasant things might happen, including a full-scale riot. Hurry! The train’s about to pull out. Get on!”
    Underground transportation had become quite popular during the time of the Great Conflagration and the ensuing one hundred years of sporadic global warfare that followed. Impressed by the security of underground transportation the Empire had expanded the system to cover most of the world.
    As the tram continued on its way, Unger and Brogan passed the time watching another pickpocket ply his trade. After several successful lifts, he was buzzed down by a man whose wallet was apparently protected. Within seconds, several opportunists relieved the thief of all his ill-gotten gain.
    The tubeway