Hao carried Geir, keeping his leg above the sand, his rifle slung over her shoulder. Geir winced but didn't cry out, only went paler and paler, the soot on his face stark against his skin.

  The bunker had burned out, mere wisps of smoke escaping the embrasures. The wind tore them to shreds before they could climb into the sky.

  Talain was a black dot low on the ground. No time to burn her, no void to send her to. I tapped the ceramic armor plate above my heart with two fingers. No idea how the Kylians honored their dead, but a tapped salute felt right. Maybe we could retrieve her body later. Likely not.

  It took us ten minutes to get Geir all the way to the supply bait. The sand people hadn't cleared it away, the way I'd thought. The cans still lay in a pile, the bottles of water scattered around it. Even the candy bar remained. I poked it with my boot, turning the grinning cartoon head into the sand.

  Then I picked it up and shoved it onto my pocket. Stupid to leave supplies.

  Now what?

  We couldn't go back to City. With the Syndics dead, we'd be targets for every clan. Lacking affiliation on a Syndicate world was a death sentence. We might as well turn ourselves over to the Invisibles. Not that Remba seemed to have any of those crudmuckers.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  We could stay in the sand wastes. The supplies would last us weeks if we rationed. But that would only delay the inevitable.

  There were enough supplies to get us back to the port. Maybe we could sneak aboard the Bucket. But we'd get shot out of the sky in seconds. Which answered the question of the missile packs. A safety feature to keep the hunting on Remba secret, or at least deniable. The Bucket was armored and warded, but I didn't fancy taking on an entire missile pack. It would turn my wards into so much slag.

  And we still needed to find the Kylians. They hadn't been in City, meaning they had to be in the wastes. We needed guides. And we had something they wanted. Or someone.

  "Ready to draw some water?" I asked Hao.

  She raised a bushy eyebrow in response.

  "Care to explain that, captain," she said, with a navy stress on the captain. Giving me snark, like in the old times. It felt good.

  "These people," I said, pointing away from the bunker, to the sand dunes, "know how to survive here. We need them. I promised them a mechanic to fix their pumps. Your job is to charm them with your vast skills."

  Hao's eyebrow sank to its normal position above her disturbingly blue eyes.

  "Good," she said. "I was almost afraid you'd jumped into the void."

  "When I do, you'll know," I said. "It won't be subtle."

  That made her laugh.