‘The Dhu Tran rest stop, then.’
‘Seekers took it. On orders from Hel, people are saying. Nothing left.’
‘If we could make it to the U Zone, if you had some contacts there—’
‘No,’ she dismisses, fast. ‘Too many Peacekeepers. You wouldn’t last a day.’
‘Where then?’
The General watches the exchange between us, her eyes narrowed.
‘Even if the Accord try to keep this quiet, once they give an order for her apprehension every bounty hunter from here to Prosper is going to be down on this moon.’ Falco pauses, worrying the paint from her lips. ‘Reckon your only choice is the Pit.’
I laugh. ‘You may as well shoot us here.’
She shrugs. ‘Word is power changed hands recently. Whoever’s running the place has it cleaned up. Course it might just be hearsay. But a fact’s a fact, it’s the one place on this rock where the Accord won’t follow. Except for the Edge, which I hear is lovely at this time of year.’
‘What the hell are you talking about?’ the General demands.
I hesitate, wondering just how far we can trust Falco. ‘The Pit’s a crater, a few days north of here. Deep enough to hide lights, signals. The land around it is mined and trapped for miles so the Accord won’t go near, without proper support.’
The General’s jaw twitches as she looks at Falco. ‘I need to get off this stinking moon and make contact with my peers. I could buy passage in this… Pit?’
‘You can buy anything in the Pit.’
‘And how would I get there? On one of those godforsaken mules, I suppose.’
‘A mule? You’d never make it alive. You’d need a better vehicle than that. And an escort. And they don’t come cheap.’
‘I can pay.’
‘With what, ma’am? Don’t the Accord seize the assets of their dead?’
The General shoots her a withering look. ‘I have an anonymous account, out of reach of the Accord. How much would you charge, since you know so much about this place?’
‘Me?’ Falco smirks. ‘More than you could afford.’
‘I’m not in the mood to barter with criminals. Name your price.’
Falco does. A figure so absurdly high it’s laughable. But the General only grunts.
‘For that amount of money, I’d expect a guarantee of safe passage. And your word that you won’t sell me out to the Accord.’
‘I’ll guarantee passage, and if I receive a better offer for your head, I’ll do the courtesy of letting you know.’
The General stares up at Falco, her lined face stony. Abruptly, she turns to me. ‘You, traitor. Do you trust her?’
She has nothing, I realise. Without the Accord she is totally alone, and she knows it. ‘Slightly more than anyone else on this moon.’
Falco smiles. ‘Then you’re going soft.’
The General nods briskly. ‘Very well. It’s a deal. You’ll take me to this Pit.’
‘And what about the Doc?’ Falco demands. ‘She risked her neck to save yours.’
‘Her conscience has repaid her, no doubt. I’ll send some money to settle our debt when I’m safely off-world.’ The General raises an eyebrow at me. ‘Agreed, traitor?’
Looking at her, something squirms in my chest, like a grub held to a flame. There would always be a debt.
‘No,’ I say softly.
They want me to go with her, I’m certain of it.
‘Here’s the deal,’ Falco interrupts. ‘I take both of you to the Pit. You pay half upfront, half there, and you guarantee to give the Doc whatever she’s owed. If you cheat me, my people will find you, and the fact you’re a kid won’t mean shit to them.’ She bends down. ‘Agreed, sweetie?’
The General’s smile is like steel. ‘Agreed.’
* * *
‘Taking a holiday, Mala?’
The wagon lurches to a halt. I lie as still as I can, trying to breathe evenly through the mask. Despite Falco’s promises, the stench is almost worse than the waste tank. It makes my eyes flood and my throat close. For the second time in less than a day I fight down nausea.
The General lies next to me, tense with rage. She’s furious, has been ever since Falco insisted she cut her hair, saying it marked her as Accord a mile-off.
They argued about it and, of course, Falco won. The General snatched the scissors from Pegeen and spitefully hacked at the thick, black bob until it stuck out in an uneven crop. Coupled with the baggy, colourful clothes it makes her look all the younger – like the child she truly is. Her anger hadn’t abated when she saw Falco’s foolproof method for sneaking us out of Landfall past the sentries.
Now, I hear Falco’s muffled laugh from the front of the wagon.
‘Holiday?’ she calls down to the soldier. ‘This is business. Some things you can’t trust to anyone else.’
Behind us, a squeal of brakes: the G’hals pulling up on their mares.
‘Riding with a crew, huh?’ There’s an edge of humour in the guard’s voice. ‘Must be something good under there. You’re not running arms again?’
‘Me, Segun? That would be illegal. No, I’m diversifying. Agriculturally speaking.’
‘Didn’t have you down as a muck-pedlar.’
‘Business is business. And since the bovine flu killed off half the cattle on Brovos, fertiliser is big business.’
Another snort. ‘Alright, Mala. Ride safe. I hear there’s dangerous folk out there.’
‘Don’t I know it. May your thoughts be clear, Seg.’
A slap on the side of the wagon, and we’re rolling again. Another few metres, and we’ll be free…
‘Stop!’
The wagon lurches and I roll against the General. I feel her rapid breathing, but don’t dare move, not when I hear the whine of guns charging, boots in the dust and angry voices.
‘Private,’ someone barks. ‘The order is to search and verify all cargo leaving the settlement. Has this wagon been searched?’
‘Well no, sir, but…’
I tense as a corner of the tarpaulin is thrown back. There’s a silence.
‘What the hell is this?’ a choked voice demands.
‘Snake guts,’ Falco calls down from her seat, voice dripping scorn. ‘Prime trimmings and gristle, combined with waste from the kitchens, all rich in nitrates, sir. Care for a sample?’
‘Don’t
