‘Been hearing a little too much about this new boss,’ Falco says. ‘Can’t say I like it much.’
‘Falco,’ Melc whines, before he looks around and sees Boots sagging in our arms. ‘No.’ His face turns a shade greyer. ‘No, no, you can’t bring her in.’ His eyes find the General. ‘And a child, here? What the hell are you thinking?’
‘Melc, you asshole,’ Pegeen spits. ‘Boots is hurt. How long you known her? She needs to rest.’
‘I’m sorry, Peg, I truly am, but you gotta understand.’ He turns pleadingly to Falco. ‘If the Boss finds out she’s wounded, there won’t be no discussion, she’ll be out in one of them cages like a shot. Boss says we can’t waste healing on the sick, when the Seekers can use them. We gotta give them to Hel as tribute.’
‘Anyone so much as looks at Boots, there’ll be a bullet in their skull,’ Falco warns softly. ‘That goes for the kid too. Now, we had a hard ride and I’m not in a chatting mood. We need rest and food and drink. And my friends here need to find a ship.’
‘Can’t do it.’ The man backs away. ‘Can’t do it. No one’s gonna serve you ’til you’ve seen the Augur.’
‘The Augur?’ Falco’s patience is rapidly fading.
‘The Boss. That’s what we call them.’ Melc cringes. ‘Please, if you don’t go declare yourselves, I’m a dead man.’
I shift my weight, and Boots let out a groan. ‘Where is this Boss?’ I ask.
The man jerks his head. ‘Over the way, in Geremy’s old bar.’
‘And where’s Geremy?’
Melc glances meaningfully at the crater.
‘Fine,’ Falco snaps. ‘Take us there.’ She catches his shoulder in an iron grip as he scurries past. ‘And if anything happens to Boots, you die first.’
* * *
We follow Melc down a clanking lift and onto a lower gantry. Just as in the hulks, the gantries are half-caged, to discourage folk throwing themselves off, I suppose.
My bloody hand slips from the cable, sending me plummeting, past two gantries, three, knowing there is nothing at the bottom to break my fall, just more metal.
Pegeen nudges me, and I blink the memory clear, feeling sick.
‘Look.’
Across the Pit, a strange two-storey building juts into the space over the crater, supported by rusted girders. There is even a veranda, like a mocking version of the grand, palatial villas that scatter the lagoons of Prosper. Only this one has a roof of corrugated iron, down which dust constantly trickles.
We are still some way off when there’s a shriek from the building. I see a figure plummet down into the darkness.
‘Thought you said this place has been cleaned up,’ Peg mutters.
‘It has,’ Melc assures us. ‘See, there ain’t hardly any fights, now. Not worth it. You get injured, chances are you’re gonna end up in the cages, rather than patched by the Quack.’ His eyes flick to the building. ‘Unless the Augur thinks you’re worthy. Like me.’ He shows us his scratched teeth in an attempted smile.
‘Isn’t this place supposed to be full of crooks?’ the General retorts.
Melc chuckles nervously. ‘Sure is, little lady.’
She holds his gaze. ‘Then why are you all acting like bootlickers?’
‘Whatever’s going on,’ Falco says over Melc’s splutters, ‘I don’t like it. Never seen this place so quiet.’
We pass openings the size of cells in the crater’s walls. Many are fitted out as stores, selling everything from dried snake meat and live grubs to vehicle parts and old wire-and-picture shows. Others are sleeping quarters or benzeneries. Outside one, a woman wearing battered body armour calls to Pegeen and waves, her eyes momentarily brighter, before leaning over to spit into the depths below.
But many of the cells are dark; their contents ransacked, their doors kicked in, their owners gone. Whatever has happened here, from the tension in Falco’s shoulders, I know it’s not good.
‘Alright,’ Melc says sourly, when we reach the walkway that leads out to the building. ‘This is it.’
I try not to look down. There are no railings, nothing between the edge of the rickety walkway and the crater below.
‘If you’ve double-crossed us, Melc…’ Falco starts.
‘No, no.’ The man backs away, his eyes fixed on the top level of the building, which glints with strange flashes of light. ‘Just doing as the Augur asks.’
Falco sighs and looks around at us all. ‘Don’t let your guard down. If things go bad, be prepared to run.’ Her eye rests on Boots, who is in no state to do anything of the sort. For the first time, I see a flicker of worry cross her face. Peg reaches out and squeezes Falco’s arm hard, before renewing their grip on Boots.
Slowly, we make our way out onto the walkway. Before we are halfway across, figures step from the building, bulky-looking charge guns levelled.
‘State your purpose,’ one yells.
There are six of them, all wearing armoured vests. I drag my attention away, back to what Falco is saying.
‘… here to rest, and do business and be on our way.’
‘That one looks injured.’
‘She is. And if anyone tries to injure her further, they’ll be taking a dive from this platform.’ Falco’s hand edges towards her gun, but the guards don’t move.
‘That is for the Augur to decide.’ A jerk of the weapon. ‘This way. Leave your guns at the door.’
Our steps shake the metal walkway.
‘You still got that knife in your belt?’ the General murmurs.
I give a small nod. ‘Not much use against a charge gun.’
‘Not in your hands.’
Inside, traces of a saloon remain: the bar itself, a broken picture screen, a few posters for off-world pharmaceuticals and chemical fertilisers, some scratched metal tables and a sticky-looking auto-piano. But now, instead of customers, the entire place is stacked with cages. Rats, mice, snakes, birds, even bats, all rustle and squawk and scurry. The place stinks of their faeces.
‘What the…’ Pegeen gapes, grey eyes huge. ‘What the hell is that?’
The General peers. ‘It’s a guinea pig, what does it look like?’
‘How am
