Kinsmen 01 - Silver Shark

people speak 'of the provinces,' they are being nostalgic about a less hectic way of life."
    The image of the city turned, presenting her with seven long platforms thrusting from the side of the cliff, one above the other, like mushroom ridges on a tree. Tunnels carved into the rock led to the Terraces probably from somewhere within the city.
    "These are the Terraces. This is where you'll find most 'provincial' style restaurants and shops. They are pricier than places in the city but you pay extra for authentic taste. Your apartment is right here."
    The image slid down, the buildings rolling by. The picture zoomed in , and she saw a ten-story structure of pale yellow stone. Balconies lined its sides.
    "The neighbors from your building are also being placed in this general area. You aren't housed together, because we want you to be assimilated into our culture as soon as possible. But you will see familiar faces. Your apartment is yours for the next three months. That's how long your probation period is. After three months, you must assume the mortgage payments, which means you must find employment."
    The image zoomed out before she could catch any more details.
    "The city is divided into territories between kinsmen families," the officer continued. "A lot of kinsmen keep private security forces, and a lot of these private soldiers have combat implants. The dominant kinsmen families have vast commercial interests and they often clash, sometimes violently, in an attempt to expand their influence. Duels and assassination attempts are not uncommon. If you see something like that in progress, try to step to the side, out of their way."
    "Your people kill each other in the streets?" Unthinkable. How could this be allowed?
    "Sometimes. Most kinsmen are so enhanced, the fights rarely last for longer than thirty seconds. Don't worry. They almost never injure bystanders. It would be very rude."
    "Rude?" This whole planet was insane.
    "Of course. With all of the targeting implants and inborn abilities, they are so fast, you would have to actively work to get in their way. Killing a civilian would be sloppy and the height of bad manners. Our crime rate is low compared to equivalent cities from other planets, and aside from kinsmen settling their affairs, New Delphi's security force has very little tolerance for foolishness. Assaults are rare, crimes like theft and burglary are more frequent. When a criminal commits an illegal act in New Delphi, chances are he's committing it in a territory of some kinsmen family, who will deal with the matter accordingly. Which isn't to say you should go alone into dangerous areas of the city at night or leave your door unlocked."
    The officer looked at the screen in front of him. "Your first priority is finding a job. You will receive job recommendations from this office. You must follow these recommendations. Failure to comply will result in deportation to Uley."
    "So they aren't really recommendations, are they?" Claire asked.
    "No. They are not."
    "I see."
    "If you fail to obtain a job after five recommendations, you will be downgraded to Class B and recommendations will no longer be provided to you. If you fail to obtain employment within your three-month probation period, you will be deported. If you engage in any criminal activity during your probation period, you will be..."
    "...Deported?" Deportation would mean death. Melko Corporation would kill her if she returned. They made it abundantly clear before she boarded the spacecraft.
    "We understand each other." The officer nodded again. "Your first job interview is in one hour. When you walk out of this building, you will see a row of aerials. Your aerial is number 57/78. The course is already programmed into it. It will take you to your job interview and then to your apartment. Should you obtain employment, the aerial will return for you in the morning. If you like it, you may choose to assume payments for it at the end of your probation. Here are the particulars." The Immigration Officer slid a data card across the table.
    Claire slid it into the tablet she had been issued. The tablet's screen blinked and pale words emerged from the background: Guardian, Inc.: Extrasensory Security Protocols and Biocybernetic Safety .
    Her hands went cold. "I'm not a psycher," she managed.
    "We know. You show no psychic activity at all." The Immigration officer nodded for emphasis. "The Escana kinsmen family has all the psychers they could want. What