"Yeah," I said. "We're going on."
* * * * *
In twenty minutes, we were on the Inner Concourse and the polyarcs were
close together, lighting the empty sweep of banked pavement. The lights
of the city sparkled across the sky ahead, and gave me a ghostly touch
of the old thrill of coming home.
I doused that feeling fast. After eight years there was nothing left
there for me to come home to. The city had a lethal welcome for
intruders; it wouldn't be smart to forget that.
I didn't see the T-Bird until his spot hit my eyes and he was beside
me, crowding.
I veered and hit the brakes, with a half-baked idea of dropping back
and cutting behind him, but he stayed with me. I had a fast impression
of squealing metal and rubber, and then I was skidding to a stop up
against the deflector rails with the T-Bird slanted across my prow. Its
lid popped almost before the screech died away, and I was looking down
the muzzles of two power pistols. I kept both hands on the wheel, where
they could see them, and sat tight.