It was the elf. For a horrid moment I thought he was screaming, lying there with his broken back, but then realization dawned. It was his bracelet. No wonder it had looked familiar: I'd seen something like it in my Lone Star training, although I'd never had one. It was one of the life-function monitors that DocWagon issues to its Super-Platinum clients. As soon as something critical goes wrong with the client-and I guess a broken back fits that category-the monitor immediately calls a roving DocWagon team, all the while letting forth a teeth-hurting scream to let everyone know that someone's gone down. My shock-numbed cranium chewed on that for a moment. Super-Platinum service runs seventy-five-K per year. Serious nuyen, and not a sum you'd expect a go-ganger-even the gang boss-to be good for. And DocWagon is very careful with their credit checks.