The minute Nick Walker stepped onto the roof of the Federation Building, the twenty-knot breeze almost whipped his hat away. He caught it just in time and flung it back into the stairwell behind him, letting the shimmer-door close over it. He braced himself against the breeze and took his bearings.

He saw the suspect about sixty feet away. Okay, not the “suspect” exactly, but the subject—the kid was acting suicidal. He looked about nineteen, maybe twenty.

“See anything yet?” His boss, Marshal Bridge, was in his ear via the temporary implant. It was Bridge who’d sent him up here because no trained negotiators were available at the moment.

“Yeah, I got him,” Nick said quietly. “I’ll keep this implant live, but don’t be talking to me, okay? If he sees me talking to myself he might just make up his mind.”

“Copy that. Just get him talking. We have hovermedics on the way; they may be able to net him.”

Nick was wearing his gunbelt with both .44s snug in their holsters, his badge pinned to the belt. No harm in letting the subject know he was a lawman…he was probably expecting one. Nick had never been trained to deal with suicides, but had heard that most only wanted someone to listen to them, to hear them out. The majority could be talked down if one was patient.

He hoped that was true of this one.

He hooked his thumbs into the gunbelt and strolled casually across the rooftop, the breeze whipping at his shirt. The kid had climbed a short ladder that serviced the flagpole and was looking down at the street seventy-five floors below. The knuckles of his right hand were white as he gripped the pole; his left was braced against the top of the twelve-foot mesh fence that surrounded the roof to prevent the wind from blasting workmen over the edge. His long brown hair was whipping in the breeze.

Nick made it to within twenty feet before the kid noticed him. His head spun around, his eyes wide.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Howdy!” Nick grinned. “How you doing today?”

“Get back! What do you want?”

“Just getting some air. What are you up to?”

“Who are you?”

Nick pointed at the badge.

“United Federation Marshal. I work here. Fifty-third floor. Are you from around here?”

The kid glanced over the side again.

“Don’t come any closer! I’ll jump.”

Nick’s eyes widened in feigned shock.

“Well, I hope not, but if you do, give me a heads-up, will you? I’ve never seen anyone do that before.”

He moved laterally to his left until he reached the restraining mesh so he could see the street below. He gazed down.

“Man, that is one hell of a drop!” he said. “Jesus Christ! Seven hundred and fifty feet, give or take. That’s a third of a mile!”

Over the gusting breeze, he heard the kid sob.

“Why don’t you leave me alone! I’ve never done anything to you.”

“No, you haven’t. I don’t even know you.”

“Then go away. This is none of your business.”

Nick sighed for effect.

“Not personally, no. But I do work here and I’m responsible for the safety of the citizens in the area, so in that respect, I guess it is my business.”

“I won’t hurt anybody but myself, so you can leave now.”

Nick shook his head.

“I know you believe that, but it’s not quite that simple.”

“Why not? Suicide is legal.”

“Yes it is, but there are people down below. Take a look, on the sidewalk. Dozens of people going about their business. What happens to them if you jump? You think you can miss all of them?”

The kid’s throat bobbed as he peered toward the street.

“I’ll wait until the sidewalk is clear.”

Nick leaned against the mesh and also looked down.

“That might work. But it’ll take you four or five seconds to hit; somebody could step out of a doorway, or a little kid might break free of its mother and run underneath you. That would make the last act of your life a murder. Think you can die with that on your conscience?”

“I probably wouldn’t even know it.”

“No, you wouldn’t, so think about it now. You want to take that risk? Killing an innocent person just because your own life is shit? Somebody with everything to live for?”

The kid was silent a moment. His shoulders were shaking.

“Something else to think about,” Nick went on. “The way this wind is whipping, you probably won’t fall straight down. You might land on the next block. You might take out a hoverbus loaded with kids.” He pointed at a nearby, shorter building with a titanium spire. “Or maybe impale yourself on that spire. That wouldn’t kill you right away, but it would hurt like a bitch while they sawed it off to get you free.”

For just a moment, the kid lowered his head and sobbed. His right hand lost its grip on the flagpole and he slid down a couple of feet onto the ladder, still hanging onto the mesh fence.

“My whole life is fucked up!” he moaned.

Nick felt a momentary relief that the kid was in a less precarious position, but the job wasn’t done yet. He took a couple of steps closer, moving slowly.

“Look,” he said in a reasonable voice, “if you’re hell-bent on killing yourself, there are better ways to do it. In fact—” He drew a .44 out of its holster, holding it so the kid could see the long barrel. “—it might be safer if I just shoot you right here. That way, nobody else would get hurt, and you wouldn’t have to worry about changing your mind halfway to the ground. Nice and quick, I promise. You won’t even feel it.”

The kid stared at the weapon with alarm in his eyes. He scrambled two rungs back up the ladder, backwards.

Shit! That was a mistake! Nick slid the gun back into its holster.

In his implant, Marshal Bridge apparently agreed.

“Walker! What the fuck are you doing!”

Nick ignored Bridge and held up a hand.

“Whoa-whoa, hold on! It was just a suggestion. We’re not done talking here.”

“Why don’t you just leave me the fuck alone! What’s wrong with you? Why are you doing this?”

Nick managed to take a few more steps, now only ten feet from the subject.

“Look, kid—what’s your name, anyway?”

“Jason.”

“Okay, Jason, if you’re determined to do this, then I really don’t give a shit. But I can’t let you hurt anyone else, okay? I mean, not if I can help it. So why don’t you tell me what brought you here and we can talk about it. Maybe figure something out.”

“Why would you care? You don’t even know me.”

Nick ran a hand over his face, more to distract the kid than anything else. He dropped to one knee and hunkered down.

“You know, the last time I was in a casino, somebody threw a plasma bomb through the front window and fried about four hundred people.”

The kid scowled.

“What? Casino? Who’s talking about casinos?”

“Just explaining why I’m not a betting man. But if I were to bet on this one, I would bet this is about a girl. Am I right?”

Jason stared at him, but didn’t reply.

“What’s her name?”

“Who said it was about a girl?”

“What else could it be? You’re young, you look healthy enough, you’re not terribly ugly…what’s her name?”

Another pause, another throat-bob.

“Becky.”

Nick nodded knowingly.

“Thought so. And what did Becky do? Dump you for some rich guy? A jock? Somebody with a bigger dick?”

The kid lowered his head and sobbed again. He nodded.

“A fucking Star Marine!”

Nick felt jolted. A Star Marine. Good thing he hadn’t shared his own military history.

“Well, that sucks. But you know what? My girlfriend used to date a Star Marine and she told me most of those guys are pussies. They join up to wear the uniform because they feel inadequate. It’s the only way they can get girls. So I’m guessing that Becky is in for a big, unpleasant surprise.”

The kid shrugged but didn’t look up. He released the mesh fence and covered his face with both hands.

“Lot of good that does me now.”

“Yeah, I hear ya. But you know what’s worse? I had a girl cheat on me once. At least yours had the decency to dump you first.”

The kid looked up at him.

“What did you do?”

“Walked away, never looked back. Found another woman later on that was even hotter.”

Shit! Hope Victoria didn’t hear me say that! Is she still in her office?

“You still with her?”

Nick stared at him a second, then lowered his head.

“She died a couple years back. Murdered. But we were still together.”

It was enough of the truth for the occasion. Jason didn’t need to know Nick and Victoria had hooked up again a dozen years later.

“Murdered!” Now Jason looked shocked.

“Yeah. Remember that terror group that was blowing people up a while back? That fucking ARMO crowd? She got killed by one of them.”

Jason shook his head in sympathy. Nick took heart. If he can still feel empathy, maybe he isn’t too far gone yet.

“Sorry, man,” Jason said. “Really, I am. But that doesn’t solve my problem.”

Nick sucked a deep breath.

“No, it doesn’t. But maybe you can see that shit happens to everybody, right? Not just you.”

Jason stood suddenly, gripping the flagpole again.

“Even if you’re right,” he said, “it doesn’t change anything. I can’t deal with it. I’m not strong enough.”

He took two steps up the ladder.

“Before you go…” Nick also stood; he bent over and pulled a folded document out of his boot. “…I need you to sign this.”

Jason frowned. “What is it?”

“It’s a release form. Like I said, I don’t give a shit either way, but my boss does, and if you take the dive without signing this form, I’ll be in a world of shit.”

Jason stared at him, perplexed.

“A release form? What the hell are you talking about? Nobody signs a release when they commit suicide.”

“Most people don’t dive off a Federation building. You know, liability and all that. If you pancake some old lady down there, the Federation takes the heat and I’ll probably get my ass fired for not stopping you.”

“How is a release form going to help?”

“All it says is that the…wait a minute.”

Nick opened the form and pretended to read.

“‘Wherein, whereas’…bullshit, bullshit, okay here it is: ‘Subject’—that’s you— ‘releases and indemnifies the United Solar Federation, Alpha Centauri 2 Division, of all responsibility for any and all injury, death, damage, and inconvenience precipitated by said subject’—again, that’s you—‘and agrees that every reasonable attempt was made by agent(s) of the United Solar Federation’—that’s me—‘to restrain, contain, persuade and dissuade said subject’—you—‘from using Federation property’—that’s this building—‘as a launching point for a self-termination attempt.

“‘Subject further agrees that any and all injury, death, damage, and inconvenience shall be the responsibility of said subject alone’—again, that’s you—‘and agrees to compensate any and all injured or deceased parties, or their survivors, in the event the self-termination attempt fails. Subject further agrees and affirms that all injury, death, damage, or inconvenience shall be compensated by survivors of said subject’—that’s your family, probably your parents—‘in the event that self-termination is successful.’”

Nick lifted his head and looked at Jason.

“Whew! Whoever wrote that must be one brain-dead lawyer, huh? Jesus, who even talks like that?”

He held the piece of paper out to Jason.

Jason was staring at him, incredulous.

“Are you crazy? I’m not signing that!”

“Why not?”

“My parents? You expect them to foot the bill if I hurt somebody?”

“Well, somebody has to. If somebody dropped out of the sky and killed someone you loved, I think you would expect payment of some kind, wouldn’t you?”

Nick shoved the paper forward again.

But Jason was shaking his head.

“No way! If I hurt somebody and I survive, then I might agree to that, but not my parents. They’ve been through enough already.”

Nick seemed to sag. He took on a troubled expression.

“Do it for me, then.”

“Do what for you?”

“Sign the release. Look, man, you’re putting me in a helluva bind here! I’m on thin ice with my boss already, and if I let you jump without a signature, I could lose my goddamn job!”

Jason burst out laughing, shaking his head from side to side.

“Mister, you are a piece of work! I don’t know you from Adam, and I never invited you up here. Just go away and leave me alone, will you?”

Nick took a step back and took a knee. He tried to put on as miserable an expression as he knew how.

“Why did you have to pick this building, huh? Why not the one across the street? Why not find one with diving boards? I didn’t ask for this. I realize your life is shit, but why do you have to fuck up mine?”

Jason scowled.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

In his implant, Nick heard Bridge’s voice.

“Hovermedics approaching your position. Keep him talking one more minute.”

Nick rubbed a hand over his eyes again, looking distressed.

“You haven’t met my boss,” he said. “His name is Armstrong, but behind his back everyone calls him Strongarm, because he is one ruthless son of a bitch. You see this scar on my cheek?” Nick pointed to the spot where, two years earlier, a terrorist bullet had narrowly missed removing his head. “Strongarm gave me that because I spilled coffee on his carpet. What do you think he’ll do if I don’t get your signature on this form?”

“Sorry, man, but that’s not my problem. I told you—”

Nick picked up the whisper of lifters as a hovermed suddenly swept above the edge of the roof. Jason also heard it and whirled in panic. Before he could turn back, or do anything at all, Nick leaped out of his crouch and rushed him, pinning him against the ladder. The kid struggled, whimpering, but Nick swung him away from the ladder and onto the rooftop, where he pinned him. When Jason finally stopped struggling, he reached for the E-cuffs on his belt.

“Sorry, kid, but you don’t get to die today.”

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