“Hell yes.” The way Pollen’s smile lit up her face made Jan’s cold smuggler heart melt a bit. It hadn’t occurred to him until just now, what with the implantation of torture nanos, but after he dealt with Fatima, he was going to get his crew back together. He was going to take care of them. And he was going to make them very rich.
First, however, they had a Golden Widow to hunt down.
“Good.” Jan released her hand. “Now, you said Rafe’s retired. Where exactly?”
Pollen shrugged. “Cliffside, maybe? That’s where he said he was going before he burned his way out of town.”
A remote farming town on the ass end of Ceto didn’t seem like Rafe’s style. “Why Cliffside?”
“Fuck if I know. You going after him?”
“You may not have kept tabs on everyone, but Rafe certainly has. So if anyone knows where to find Fatima—”
“—and Emiko,” Pollen added.
“—and Emiko,” Jan agreed, “then Rafe will know where to start looking.”
“If he’s not dead,” Pollen added.
Jan frowned. “Why would he be dead?”
“Well, you see, before he retired, he sort of ... blew up a Supremacy refueling pad.”
“Oh,” Jan said.
“And half a police station.”
After a moment, Jan added, “That seems unwise.”
“Yes, why you think he left in such a hurry?”
Audible stirring from outside interrupted any further conversation. Jan and Pollen went very quiet as that someone loudly relieved themselves next door. Only after the bar had been quiet for one full minute did Pollen speak again.
“Have to get back,” Pollen said. “Boss will be up soon.” She watched him with wide eyes. “So ... what happens now?”
“I’ll call you once I find Rafe,” Jan said. “My financier will get us a safe house. We’ll find Emiko, track down Fatima, and finish this whole unpleasant business before week’s end.”
“But after we do this one job, we’re staying together again, right? As a team? Like the old days?”
“Yes,” Jan said. “It will be exactly like the old days, Pollen, assuming we don’t all die.”
Pollen shrugged. “Least we die together.”
Jan felt warm inside. “And that’s not so bad, yes?”
03: Rafe
For a town on the ass end of Ceto, Cliffside actually looked to be doing well. Jan and Bharat arrived on the afternoon’s maglev train — they’d escaped the Bowsprit without choking out anyone else — and stepped out under a descending sun, on a hot afternoon, on a dusty and abandoned platform. They were the only two passengers to get off the train, which sped off as if it couldn’t wait to get away from here.
Cliffside sprawled up the shallow hill above the station and out of sight. It was primarily one-story habitation units, or HUes (shipping crates big enough for a one-bedroom apartment) with a few more permanent warehouse structures added to store its crops. There wasn’t a single building over two stories, but Cliffside’s inhabitants had done a good job of adding some color to the place by cultivating furrows of Ceto’s wild grass along its roughly paved roads. Those stalks were among the scratchiest plants imaginable, but at least they weren’t dirt or biocrete.
The arrival platform was as long as the average maglev train, with eight weathered pillars supporting a skeletal roof of pipes and clear plastic, but a hand-painted mural of smiling farmers brightened the whole thing up. Jan supposed Cliffside’s inhabitants had plenty of time for artistic pursuits when they weren’t farming, racing hoverbikes, or distilling moonshine.
Jan had done his research on the ride over, using the maglev’s seat-mounted e-reader, so the platform’s lack of population wasn’t a surprise. No one really traveled to Cliffside on the tail end of the afternoon. This town was as quiet and blue-collar as towns came on Ceto, which made it all the more odd when three people who looked to be local cops sped toward the platform in an open-air six-wheeler.
That six-wheeler skidded to a rather abrupt halt just beyond the maglev platform. All three cops inside it then immediately hopped out and walked right toward them, which wasn’t something cops typically did unless they were about to arrest someone.
“Those for us?” Bharat asked.
“No idea.” Jan ignored the tightness clenching in his gut. “Let me handle it.”
Jan and Bharat stood unmoving on the maglev platform, hands visible, as two tall white men and one short white woman stepped onto the platform and marched Jan’s way. They wore faded blue fatigues under dark gray vests that could probably stop a bullet or two. They had nice boots and carried nice rifles.
Their leader was an older, muscular man with a head full of matted blond hair, a thick blond beard, and a strong chin. He also wore a sheriff’s badge. The sheriff stopped a good six steps away, scratched his bushy beard, and squinted at Jan.
“Right, that’s him.” Cliffside’s sheriff glanced at his subordinates. “Sweep the perimeter.”
Both younger cops saluted as the woman said, “You got it, Chief.” They split up and walked off to either side, with their rifles clutched to their chests.
“Welcome to Cliffside,” the sheriff said, in a tone that wasn’t welcoming at all. “I’ll be your escort today, because apparently nothing else I need to do is this important.”
Jan had long ago learned that when a situation didn’t make sense, it was best not to do anything to complicate it until one had a better feel for what, exactly, was happening. Apparently, that was Cliffside’s sheriff squinting at him, offering to escort him somewhere, and having his fellow cops do a perimeter sweep. So ... those were facts.
The sheriff pointed at Bharat. “Who’s he? Bodyguard?”
Jan decided to go for it. “Yes.”
“Sheriff Galloway.” The sheriff stepped forward and offered his hand.
