too early.”
He grins. “Too bad,” he says, pocketing the blade. “You can’t win them all.”
You should see what else I swallowed.
And I don’t mean Debro’s ring, either…But I keep my silence and wait for him to pass down the line. When we’re done, he jerks his thumb toward a corridor. “Keep going until you can’t go any farther and you’ve arrived.”
We’re about to discover where we are going to be living. From the look on the faces of most of the new arrivals they’re shattered enough already at where they find themselves; I doubt if any of them is ready for what will come next.
“Wait,” says Ladro, suddenly magnanimous. “Anyone stops you, tell them you’ve already been taxed, by me. ” It’s obvious he feels this is the clincher. No contraband has been overlooked. We can safely be left in peace.
“How far?” Debro whispers.
“A mile,” I say. “Two miles.”
It could be more, a lot more. I wonder how she expects me to know. A hundred paces beyond Ladro’s turnoff, I make them stop and have two of the women dress the girl, who’s almost in a fit state to walk by now. Debro supervises and puts herself between the girl and a handful of the men who just want a better view.
“Debro’s going to get herself in trouble,” Anton says.
He sounds worried.
“It’s possible.” Debro could be adopted as pack mother or she could be cast out. It’s too early yet to have any sense of which way it’s going to go.
“Can you protect her?”
My smile makes him look away.
“I can pay you,” he says flatly.
“With what?”
“Gold,” says Anton. “Furs, dried bush meat, illegal crystals, real estate. You want it, we trade it. You get the reward as soon as we get out of here.”
“No one gets out of here,” I tell him. “This isn’t the kind of place people leave.” I hold up one hand, stilling him. The injured girl is now dressed and Debro is stroking her face, saying something encouraging. I want to get this said before Debro comes back and we move off again.
“Looking after her is your job,” I warn Anton. “But I’ll do what I can.” We shake hands on this and when I glance up it’s to find Debro watching us, a strange smile on her face.
“Come on,” I say. “Keep moving.”
The tunnel is low and lined with ceramic; it’s cracked in places, and on at least three occasions a hole has been hacked into the lining and a smaller tunnel vanishes into darkness.
“It’s warmer than I expected,” says Debro.
“Won’t last,” I tell her, then smile, trying to take the sting from my words. None of them yet understands a word they’ve been told.
“Keep up with me,” I tell Anton and Debro, and somehow that means I inherit the girl and Rat Face, whose name turns out to be Phibs. He owns a printing press on a planet so primitive, it isn’t even networked. He claims to have produced samizdat pamphlets to order, for money. And doesn’t see why he should end up on Paradise.
“You’re lucky,” I say.
He glares at me.
“Do you have posh contacts, like Debro or Anton?” I ask him. “No, you’re here because the authorities couldn’t be arsed to kill you. And the reason they couldn’t be bothered is you were in it for the money. Being a moneygrubbing little fuck saved your life.”
“You know,” Phibs says, “you’re not as thick as you look.”
I punch him, but not very hard.
The tunnel gets colder and narrower as we push on into the gloom. Strange luminescent strings hang from the ceiling. They look as if they’re fungal, although Debro’s trying to remember if fungus can work at this temperature. She’s also shivering. Probably because she’s given her coat to the girl who walks behind us. Anton keeps darting back to check if she’s okay, but his interest seems fatherly.
“Here,” I say, giving Debro my own coat.
She glances at Anton, who smiles.
“He’s only being kind,” Anton says.
Debro looks doubtful. “I should probably
He grins. “Too bad,” he says, pocketing the blade. “You can’t win them all.”
You should see what else I swallowed.
And I don’t mean Debro’s ring, either…But I keep my silence and wait for him to pass down the line. When we’re done, he jerks his thumb toward a corridor. “Keep going until you can’t go any farther and you’ve arrived.”
We’re about to discover where we are going to be living. From the look on the faces of most of the new arrivals they’re shattered enough already at where they find themselves; I doubt if any of them is ready for what will come next.
“Wait,” says Ladro, suddenly magnanimous. “Anyone stops you, tell them you’ve already been taxed, by me. ” It’s obvious he feels this is the clincher. No contraband has been overlooked. We can safely be left in peace.
“How far?” Debro whispers.
“A mile,” I say. “Two miles.”
It could be more, a lot more. I wonder how she expects me to know. A hundred paces beyond Ladro’s turnoff, I make them stop and have two of the women dress the girl, who’s almost in a fit state to walk by now. Debro supervises and puts herself between the girl and a handful of the men who just want a better view.
“Debro’s going to get herself in trouble,” Anton says.
He sounds worried.
“It’s possible.” Debro could be adopted as pack mother or she could be cast out. It’s too early yet to have any sense of which way it’s going to go.
“Can you protect her?”
My smile makes him look away.
“I can pay you,” he says flatly.
“With what?”
“Gold,” says Anton. “Furs, dried bush meat, illegal crystals, real estate. You want it, we trade it. You get the reward as soon as we get out of here.”
“No one gets out of here,” I tell him. “This isn’t the kind of place people leave.” I hold up one hand, stilling him. The injured girl is now dressed and Debro is stroking her face, saying something encouraging. I want to get this said before Debro comes back and we move off again.
“Looking after her is your job,” I warn Anton. “But I’ll do what I can.” We shake hands on this and when I glance up it’s to find Debro watching us, a strange smile on her face.
“Come on,” I say. “Keep moving.”
The tunnel is low and lined with ceramic; it’s cracked in places, and on at least three occasions a hole has been hacked into the lining and a smaller tunnel vanishes into darkness.
“It’s warmer than I expected,” says Debro.
“Won’t last,” I tell her, then smile, trying to take the sting from my words. None of them yet understands a word they’ve been told.
“Keep up with me,” I tell Anton and Debro, and somehow that means I inherit the girl and Rat Face, whose name turns out to be Phibs. He owns a printing press on a planet so primitive, it isn’t even networked. He claims to have produced samizdat pamphlets to order, for money. And doesn’t see why he should end up on Paradise.
“You’re lucky,” I say.
He glares at me.
“Do you have posh contacts, like Debro or Anton?” I ask him. “No, you’re here because the authorities couldn’t be arsed to kill you. And the reason they couldn’t be bothered is you were in it for the money. Being a moneygrubbing little fuck saved your life.”
“You know,” Phibs says, “you’re not as thick as you look.”
I punch him, but not very hard.
The tunnel gets colder and narrower as we push on into the gloom. Strange luminescent strings hang from the ceiling. They look as if they’re fungal, although Debro’s trying to remember if fungus can work at this temperature. She’s also shivering. Probably because she’s given her coat to the girl who walks behind us. Anton keeps darting back to check if she’s okay, but his interest seems fatherly.
“Here,” I say, giving Debro my own coat.
She glances at Anton, who smiles.
“He’s only being kind,” Anton says.
Debro looks doubtful. “I should probably
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