“I’m tired, Snow,” she says. It’s a
whisper, but if it was a little louder, it would
be a whimper.
“Hour and a half to Nock City. Get some
rest.” I let her go.
She catches herself on the edge of the
cradle. Slumps into it. I move towards the
door.
“Snow, wait—”
I turn back to her. She’s holding out the
three rolls of credits.
So that’s the way it is. I take the credits.
Cup her trembling hand in mine. “There are
painkillers in the med kit in the ‘fresher.
Take as many as you need.”
She nods but doesn’t look at me. I let her
hand go. Force myself to walk away and get
on with what she’s paying me for.
The takeoff’s quick and uneventful. I keep
the ship on manual until we’re beyond the
city and skimming over the rolling purple
dunes of the desert separating New Brunny
from the northern settlements. No matter how
pissed off the water rioters are, I don’t see
them heading out into the desert to shoot
down passing ships. I leave the weapon-
detection system on, though, just in case,
while I flip the ship over to automatic and let
the flight computer navigate the route I’ve
picked back to Nock.
I could try to sleep, but I’m pretty much
guaranteed to dream of Marin. Sleep has no
appeal.
I fuck with the ship for a while. Adjusting
settings that don’t need adjustment. Flicking
through messages on the Multi. The long hop
is still open, and their offering price has
gone up. It leaves in less than five hours. I
could be in cryo in eight. I’ve never been
able to really sleep in cryo, but at least I
wouldn’t dream.
I’m about to signal the shipper when the
airlock behind me snicks open.
There are half-a-dozen blades hidden
within easy reach. I tickle one of them out of
its sheath. Hold it loosely while I wait to see
who’s come through, and what their
intentions are.
Kez climbs into the co-pilot’s chair.
Even out of the corner of my eye, I can see
how she eases gingerly into the chair. How
her hands tremble as she straps herself in.
“Thought you were gonna get some rest,”
I say. Let my voice cover the quiet snick as I
drop the blade back into its sheath.
She doesn’t answer. I glance at her. She’s
tucked into a ball in the chair, hands gripped
to her chest. She’s put a derm over her
damaged eye. Salve glistens on her lip. She
looks worse than she did before she cleaned
herself up.
“Kez—”
“Can I just sit here with you? Ape’s
snoring already. I don’t want to be alone
. . .”
“Sure,” I say. I reach under my chair to
the cold tray and pull out two more bulbs of
water. Hand one to her.
“I’m going to do nothing but pee
tomorrow,” she says, but she takes the bulb.
I sip my water. Let the silence stretch.
Wait to see how she fills it.
“The desert’s beautiful,” she says. “I’ve
never seen it from the air.”
“Yeah,” I say neutrally. We’re not gonna
talk about the scenery. Not with so much
hanging heavy between us.
She feels it, too. Asks hesitantly, “When
you dream . . . what do you dream about?”
I’m tempted to fob her off with another
story about imaginary teddy bears. But
maybe the truth will bring her back to me. “A
woman. Her name was Marin.”
“Did you love her?”
“Worse. I admired her.”
She turns on her side. Rests her head in
the pillow of her arm. Watches me out of her
undamaged eye. There’s a rim of wetness
under it. Has she been crying? Or maybe
Kincaid damaged her tear duct. “What
happened to her?”
“She died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.”
“Were you with her a long time?”
I take a swallow of water. Let it wash
away some of the bitterness. Thirty-two
standard years. Three hundred eighty-four
months. Eleven thousand six hundred and
eighty days. Less than three of them with
Marin. “Not nearly long enough.”
“What was she like?”
“Beautiful. Smart. Fearless.” A thousand
other things I don’t have words for. The
relief in her eyes when she realized there
was another sane soul on that ball of space
rock. Her bitter-sweet ferocity when she
refused to leave behind the man who
eventually killed her. The feeling of her body
against mine the few hours she let me keep
her warm. “Like you.”
Kez snorts. “You must be thinking of
someone else.”
“You knew what Kincaid would want.”
She touches the derm over her eye
gingerly. “I only did a few runs for him
while I was with Livvy. Little things. I think I
took him his lunch a couple of times. He
made me take off my shirt once. He stared at
my boobs while he ate his lunch and wanked
off under his damn desk. But he never tried
to touch me.”
“You went in there alone, knowing he’s a
sadist. That’s fearless. Or stupid. You tell
me.”
She smiles a little, then presses the back
of her fingers against her split lip. “If those
are my options, I’d prefer fearless.”
“Now tell me why you needed it so bad.”
She slides her hand under her cheek.
Turns her face into it so she doesn’t have to
meet my eyes. “I can’t.” She pauses for a
moment, then looks up at me. “Not because I
don’t want to. It’s part of the deal.”
I grunt, irritated that she won’t tell me
anyway.
“I could tell you . . . other things. Things
I’ve figured out for myself.”
“Yeah? Like what?”
“Well, you know how I said I had a run
coming up to the Cloudlands?” She shifts her
hand up a little to cover a yawn.
“Yeah.”
“I got both runs at the same time. This
one and the one to the Cloudlands. I think
they’re related.”
“How?”
“Kincaid used to control Hemos City and
Nock, right? But since Sokun Tyng was
killed, he’s moved down to New Brunny,
and Kimpler’s taken over his old turf.”
“Yeah, I heard that.” I’ve also heard
about Kimpler. Heard he’s a quietly scary
motherfucker who likes to hunt on his days
off. Most of the time he hunts Kuseros’s
indigenous predators. Sometimes he hunts
people who’ve pissed him off.
“I did a run for Kimpler. A long time ago.
He did the me
et himself, in person. He had
me meet him out on the Cloudlands. I think he
has a place out there.”
“So, Kincaid and Kimpler.” The two
remaining lieutenants in Tyng’s empire, after
old Kison Tyng’s heir apparent got himself
killed. “Sokun Tyng. Didn’t he die in Kuus?”
“Yup, in the Deeps. No one knows what
he was doing there or how he died. But my
friend Java disappeared around the same
time. He was number two in the Pack.”
“Sokun Tyng dies. Someone hires you to
pick up a box of black-market glands that are
in the paws of his killers, and deliver them to
Junior Tyng’s replacement. Big
coincidence.”
Kez nods. “Except I don’t think the Pack
killed Tyng.”
“Why not? Seriously unfriendly fuckers.”
“They’re starving. I told you, they’re
nicer than the Snatchers one on one,” she
says.
I snort. That really doesn’t move them up
much on my nice scale.
She continues, “I’ve been going into the
Deeps for years and I’ve never had a
problem with them before. Besides, don’t
you think if the Pack killed his son that Old
Man Tyng would have exterminated them to
the last ratling by now? No one knows. But
maybe someone is testing a theory.”
“By taking the glands to Kincaid?”
“And the run to Kimpler. Who had the
most to gain by Sokun Tyng’s death?”
“Man had a lot of enemies.”
“Frenemies. He hated Kincaid and
Kimpler, and from everything I’ve heard, the
feeling was totally mutual.”
“Yeah? How d’you know so much about
the Tyngs?”
“I listen.”
“You must have big ears.”
“And thin walls.” She yawns hugely.
“How’s that?”
“Chiara Tyng likes to talk about her
family after sex.”
“Chiara Tyng—?”
“My brother’s girlfriend.”
Talking exhausts her. Her uncovered
eyelid gets heavier and heavier. Finally, she
drops into a fitful doze. I slide silently out of
my chair and open one of the smuggler’s
hatches in the flight deck floor. Take out one
of the boxes that the original Snow
thoughtfully left me. Smuggler’s supplies,
including an impressive range of black-
market meds.
The pain patches are right on top. I select
two, enough to knock her out for several
hours, and stow the box. I lean over Kez,
careful not to wake her. She’s twitching,
shivering in her sleep. I hope she’s not
dreaming yet.
Silently, carefully, I reach across to
where her hand has dropped into her lap, and
smooth two patches onto her inner wrist.
The derms work quickly. Within a
minute, she relaxes. Her breathing drops
until it’s deep and even.
I flick the automatics off, and concentrate
on giving her a smooth ride into Nock City.
Chapter 8
Unsurprisingly, her brother sleeps
through the landing. Even more
unsurprisingly, he’s a hostile little shit when
I wake him.
“We’re here. Unpack your gear,” I tell
him.
“Where’s Kez?” he asks, rubbing his
eyes.
“Sleeping.”
“Wake her up. I can’t carry all this shit.”
I wrap two fingers in the neck of his vest
and drag him up until he’s eye to eye. “Then
leave it here and get your worthless ass off
my ship,” I tell him.
He avoids my eyes. All juvenile bluster
and no spine. “Man, I don’t know what she
sees in you.”
“Feeling’s mutual.” I drop him back into
the cradle. Grumbling, he climbs out of it and
begins opening the hatches for the passenger
storage compartments. I leave him to it and
go to shut down my ship.
Kez sleeps peacefully in the co-pilot’s
chair while I cycle down the ship’s flight
systems. Open up the solar cells and leave
them to charge in Kuseros’s early morning
light. Set the ship’s computer to bounce calls
to my place by the river. I take a minute to
send a thanks but no thanks plex to the long
hopper. I’m not sure where Kez and I have
ended up, but I’m not disappearing for any
length of time until I find out. Thirty-five
standard years. Four hundred twenty months.
Twelve thousand seven hundred seventy-five
days. I’ve spent less than one of them with
Kez. I’m not losing out on my chance to
spend another with her, the way I did with
Marin.
When all that remains is to close and lock
the ship, I shrug on my jacket, pocket the
rolls of credits, the ship’s remote and an
eskey, and gather Kez out of the co-pilot’s
chair. She stirs and murmurs, but the drugs
keep her under. I settle her into my arms,
holding her across my body with her head on
my shoulder. It’s becoming natural, carrying
her. I notice the weight in my lower back and
biceps, but it’s not uncomfortable. I carry her
out into the corridor where Ape waits with
two bags, the float boards and her backpack.
“Yeah, I can see how that’d be too much
for you,” I growl over his sister’s head. He
has the sense to look sheepish. “Where’s her
He offers it to me and I wrap it around
her, carefully hiding her wrist with its bright
red patches. “Hat,” I grunt at him.
“I don’t know where it is.”
“Find it,” I growl. “You really want to
answer questions about her face?”
“No,” he says sullenly. He roots through
her backpack until he unearths her hat.
Settles it awkwardly between her head and
my shoulder.
“First breeze’ll have that off.” I shift Kez
up onto my shoulder until I get a hand free to
snug the hat around her head. Tug it down
until it shades her damaged face.
“I called a taxi,” Ape says. “Figured she
wouldn’t be up to boarding.”
“You figured right.” I don’t add for once,
but it’s implied. “Where is it?”
“Er, outside . . .”
Infant. “Tell it to come to red zone four.
Authorization SM2662.”
“Oh, okay.” Ape pulls a blocky palmtop
out of his vest pocket and begins tapping.
I step over their luggage, onto the ramp
and, as it cycles, let it carry me down onto
the permacrete landing pad. A yellow and
blue taxi buzzes through the restricted gate. It
pulls up onto the red pad across from my
ship and settles onto a cushion of dust blown
up by its neg cells. The passenger door
slides open obligingly. I climb in, holding
&n
bsp; Kez in front of me and settling her onto one
of the wide seats once we’re inside. No
driver. The taxi’s automated. Not surprising
at this hour of the morning. I wait for Ape
and while he heaves the bags into the taxi’s
main compartment, lean out and click the
master control at the ship. The ramp silently
closes and the ship goes dark. With the solar
panels unfurled above the cargo bays, the
Marie looks like a massive mechanical
butterfly, waiting to take flight. Good ship.
Ape punches a destination into the taxi’s
interface and it rises in a billow of dust. A
gentle jerk and we’re whizzing through the
port and out into the early morning streets of
Nock City.
I pull Kez into my lap. Settle her in my
arms and look down into her sleeping face.
Brush her bangs and a stray dreadlock off her
cheek so I can inspect the damage. The derm
has brought down the swelling. Her
cheekbone’s split and bruised, but it’s fading
under the effects of the derm to a line of red
and a shadow of purple and green. It’ll be
gone in a couple of hours. I tip up her chin so
I can see her mouth. The salve’s closed the
split on her lower lip to a thin red line. As I
look closely, I can see red lines in the
corners of her mouth, too. Those aren’t from
Kincaid’s hand. They’re from the impact of a
different organ. I sigh and tuck her close to
my chest. He made her earn those two
thousand after all.
“What happened to her?” Ape asks.
I look across the taxi at him. “What d’you
think?”
“Kincaid beat on her, didn’t he?”
And the rest. “Yeah.”
“I should have gone with her. Why didn’t
she wake me up?”
Plenty of guilt to go around. “Dunno.”
Ape sits forward, leans his elbows on his
knees and pops his knuckles. “I wish she was
ugly. So fucking ugly no one would look at
her.”
“How’s that?” I ask, not sure I’ve heard
him correctly.
He shakes his head. “If she wasn’t pretty,
this wouldn’t happen to her.”
I doubt that. Kincaid’s particular
pathology doesn’t discriminate that way. But
that’s not what catches at me. “This
happened before?”
He rubs his hand over his mouth. His
hands are like hers. Long-fingered. Big even
for his overdeveloped body. Puppy paws.
“She wouldn’t want me to say.”
“But it’s not the first time, is it?”
“No.” He stares at his hands for a minute
before he continues. “She was caught by