When he goes back to the controls, I take the General aside.
‘We have to be careful,’ I tell her sharply.
‘Of that hophead?’ She snorts. ‘I’m amazed he can even fly straight.’
‘Not just him. We don’t know how far the Augur’s influence stretches. And if Moloney finds out we were at the Pit, what we did—’
‘We? I seem to remember you did the lion’s share of the killing. Or have you forgotten?’
‘I didn’t have any choice.’
She lets out a noise of disgust. ‘Typical Limiter.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘There is always a choice, Low. You cowards never had any idea of consequences. You had your theories and romantic notions, but when it came to action you whined and moaned and said we pushed you into things you didn’t want to do. But still, you did them. The Accord taught me to live with my decisions before I was even allowed to pick up a gun.’ She sneers at me. ‘People don’t care about your reasons for killing them when they’re dead.’
With that, she stalks back towards her bunk, leaving me alone.
Numb, I wander onto the flight deck. As I enter, Silas is putting down the transmitter.
‘Just checking in with At Least,’ he says. ‘They’ve got fuel, and the good news is, they haven’t seen anyone else for five days.’
I nod.
‘Gabi alright?’ he asks.
‘Gabi,’ I repeat, unable to hold back the bitterness in my voice. ‘That’s not what she usually goes by.’
‘Maybe,’ he shrugs, ‘but like I said, this is now, not the past.’ He pokes at a loose wire in the transmitter. ‘How did you come to be travelling together, anyway? And from the Pit? Doesn’t seem like there’s much love lost between you.’
‘Things just worked out this way.’
After a while he takes a pouch out of his jacket. Breath. My muscles jerk in anticipation and longing. I watch as he places one between his teeth and shatters it. I clench my palms, to stop myself from reaching for them.
‘Reckon you’ll go with her, if she can buy passage off-moon?’ he asks.
The question strikes me. In truth, I haven’t thought about my own fate. If the General can get access to her money, if she can pay me what she has promised – enough to buy more supplies, a new mule – should I take it? Ride alone back into the Barrens and continue as before, patching up desperate settlers, adding each life to the tally, like trying to repair a crumbling dam with paper? On the other hand, if I leave Factus, will they follow?
People don’t care about your reasons for killing them when they’re dead.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, if you want a lift back east, I’ll give you one. Wouldn’t even need to hijack me this time.’ He holds out the pouch of beads.
Laughing a little, I take one, and Silas laughs too.
I stare out at the horizon. As the shards melt on my tongue and dextro rushes through me, bright and pure, what I see looks a lot like hope.
* * *
Silas was not lying about At Least. It’s the roughest trade post I have ever seen, and that is saying something on Factus. The only buildings are the temporary living containers dropped years ago by the Accorded Bureau of Land Development to get people started.
Only out here, there is nothing to start. It’s so arid that seeds and crops just blow away; the monthly water distribution is barely enough to keep the throats of the inhabitants from closing with thirst, and according to Silas even that has stopped. Without crops, they can’t access a legal water subscription, and without a legal subscription they have no access to the seed banks for crops. That’s the Accord way of doing things.
We land in a whirlwind of dust. Everything looks as though it’s been used and reused a dozen times. In the middle of a rough square stands a wire tower festooned with wind catchers that flap madly in our wake.
‘Nice place,’ the General says, as we step from the ship. ‘What’s that stench?’
Silas pulls the tattered collar of his flight jacket up and over his mouth. ‘Muckbrick. You get used to it.’
‘Muckbrick?’
He nods at the latrine.
‘Ugh.’
‘Look on the bright side. After this place, travelling on a mining freighter will seem like a luxury.’
He winks at me. I fight down a smile of my own. Half a dozen beads and I feel better than I have in weeks; my head’s clear, my thoughts sharp. I stride towards the main building that seems to serve as store, bar, wire office, and everything else besides.
‘Who the hell would live out here?’ The General’s face creases in disgust.
‘Someone who doesn’t have a choice,’ I reply.
As she glares at me, Silas quickens his step to open the door for us.
‘Only person here is Gilli. Used to be her husband Pike too, but he walked into the Edge one day and never came back. She’s been a bit… odd, ever since. Don’t pay too much attention.’
Of course, the place is empty, but as we enter an ancient buzzer sounds. There’s a creak from the back room, shuffling footsteps, and a woman appears. She looks ancient, desiccated as a dried lemon, and yet she can’t be more than forty. In her shoulder holster is a very old pistol.
‘Afternoon, Gilli,’ Silas says. ‘May your thoughts be clear.’
‘And yours,’ comes the suspicious reply. Her eyes land on the General and stay there for some time, before drifting back to Silas. ‘Seen you before. Not these others.’
‘That’s right. Silas Gulivinda, came through a few months back. Bought a pressure converter from you that fell apart within a week.’
The woman nods. ‘So.’
‘Alright if we refuel?’
‘Alright if you can pay.’
‘Do you have a wire booth?’ the General asks.
The woman’s eyes narrow even more, but eventually she jerks her chin. ‘In the back, next to the shit filters.’ As the General hurries away,
