How something could stink in space was a problem in and of itself. Waste production on outposts like Quay would jettison anything of no value into the void. The stench, Murphy decided, belonged to the people.

  The same pinch-eyed idiot who sat on the bailiff and gave Mina and he a hard time earlier, now looked at them through the bars of their cell with mirroring condescension. He clicked his tongue a few times, as though about to give a lesson. Murphy restrained himself from prying the cell bars loose right then and there.

  “Y’all should’ve listened. Now yer here, and I’m stuck watchin ya.”

  “You don’t seem the type to mind doing nothing,” Roman hadn’t lost a lick of his wit, but nor had he gained an ounce of sense after his beating. He’d been one of the prime reasons Murphy was able to keep his cool—like seeing a drunk man piss on the side of a building sobered you up a bit.

  The deputy pursed his lips and peered over his shoulder where the two other deputies, and the Warden talked in another room.

  “Mighty fine words from a black-mout like you. Showing up here causing trouble, and you wonder why we all got problems with your kind.”

  “My kind,” Roman’s words were not as bruising as Murphy would expect, “what would you know about my kind?”

  “Everything I need to know for a lifetime, you flea. There’s y’all and the Geos, and sometimes I can’t tell which is worse,” he leaned forward, “ol’ Quay is nothing but loyal to the crown. We do our orbits same as you, and deliver a valuable service to the majesties of Dearth. Can y’all say the same?”

  It was the first piece of evidence they had of the war besides Hitori’s claims.

  “We’re not criminals,” Mina said, “if you’d just listen we could prove it.”

  The man laughed, “prove? That you’re some top secret escort here from Dearth to deliver an order made a hundred years ago?” He eyed Mina fondly, “escort I believe. Government ordered, psh, I think not.”

  “You’re awful,” Val said from the back bench. “Stranded in space, now we’re in jail, the others might be—”

  “What are you going to do with us?” Murphy said before Val could finish her sentence. “Who do you report to?”

  If he were a smarter man, he may have been more curious on what Val was about to say. As it was, he was all too happy to share his conflated self importance.

  “Told ya, we’re beholden to the majesties, aren’t we? Deliver onto Jupiter the mineral ores from the belt, and keep on keeping on.”

  “Who runs Quay though?” Mina asked. “Do you have a mayor, a regent? Anybody?”

  “You already met the warden. They call him Quick Hand, ya know. Then there’s me, Crude Eye, they say. We run this town.”

  “And Mac,” Roman said. The man was infuriatingly combative. “Seems like he has a bit of a say too.”

  “You feel as smart as you look behind those bars, boy? If I—”

  “Sam,” the warden said, joining them. He gave Murphy an all too familiar once-over, though it was surprising to see how little he reacted. He turned back to Crude Eye. “You talk too much, Sam.”

  Sam grimaced and spit, the glob landed near Murphy’s boots.

  The sheriff sucked his lips and raised his hand halfway to slapping the man silly. He curled his fingers in a fist and growled instead. Murphy knew that feeling.

  “I’ll take it from here, go on back to the bailiff.”

  “They was beginning to talk to me, Kim. It's what I’m good for, you know that.”

  “What you’re good for spoiled when you let these folks out our doors two hours ago.”

  “They ain’t been-”

  “Sam. Git.”

  Sam shifted his grip on the rifle, and Murphy noted the way he angled his body toward the Warden. This wasn’t the first time these two were at odds. A moment later Sam hiked his rifle and walked away.

  Warden Kim watched him go. He looked the crew over once again before speaking.

  “Seems y'all have gotten off on the wrong foot. Mine. Now we don’t take kindly to strangers on a good day, and this is not one of those days,” he pulled a notepad from his duster, licked his finger and turned the page.

  “Attempted robbery from one of our esteemed marts.”

  “Robbery?” Mina said. “We didn’t rob anybody.”

  The sheriff simply flipped the page, “mhm.”

  “You stole?” Val said incredulously to Mina. “Low profile, huh?”

  “You’re an idiot if you believe that—”

  “Intimidation with intent to harm,” The Sheriff went on, nodding toward Murphy, “that’s for you, biggen.”

  Murphy wouldn’t satisfy this shakedown with a reaction.

  “What the hell is he talking about?” Roman asked.

  “Nothing!” Mina’s voice pitched as she defended herself. “They tried running our ID and when nothing came up they threatened us.”

  “Par for the course,” Roman said under his breath too loudly.

  “They call that a non sequitur if I’m not mistaken,” the warden flipped the page and went on, “destruction of public property, disturbing the peace, assault. Your wrap sheet is the shiniest of ‘em all…Ace.”

  “Ace?” Mina said. “Who’s Ace?”

  “Who indeed, miss. That’s what I’m finna ask about real soon.”

  Mina looked about the cell searching for another body that wasn’t in there. The woman was smart, but she hadn’t spent enough time in the world.

  “A bunch of criminals,” Val said, leaning back with her head in her hands. “My brother would roll in his grave if he knew I’d become the saint.”

  Kim continued. “Dead brother? More family besides bloody-face over here? Well let’s get to you sweets. Aiding and abetting. Loitering with intent to cause bedlam—yes that’s a real law. If youda been here just after the transguilds left, you’d be ten feet under for that.

  Murphy smiled mirthlessly at the absurdity of all this.

  “Happiness begets the stranger, begets the criminal. You got something to laugh about, bravista?”

  “Sheriff Kim, with all due respect, you have our names, you can run them in whatever database you’d like. You’ll see that I’m Second lieutenant to Admiral Christian Halbert. If you’re going to ask me a question, it should be a request to go easy on you once this little molehill of yours comes crashing down.”

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  That was the most Mina had ever heard Murphy say in one go. There was a pause and then a head popped out of one of the offices. It appeared to be the youngest amongst deputies with straw straight yellow hair.

  “You good?” the deputy asked.

  It was Kim’s turn to smile.

  “Just fine, Remmy,” he thumbed back to an earlier page in his notebook, “your lies ain’t new, you know. Government agent, here on orders, unlimited funds, requests to withdraw on word alone… That sound like a story we rim folk are supposed to believe?”

  He pulled up a chair and took his hat off revealing a mess of thin blond hair.

  “We’re simple people, not simple minded. And you’re not the first ones to come through here looking for a free ride. Hell, every few days a miner leaves their post in the belt a cycle early and comes here pedaling us a story, saying their manifest filled up early. You think we’ll believe you because you got some retro suit clothes?”

  He let the silence linger, and Murphy blessed the heavens none of the crew decided then to speak.

  “Now I’ve got time, plenty of it, if you could guess. I just want to know why, and how far this goes, hm? I could bury you in a cell without light, but those are in the basement and I usually end up forgetting who’s down there. Point is, telling me what the hell you’re doing here is in your best interest.”

  “Warden Kim, we told you the truth. We’re traveling to Jupiter on special orders from the Admiral himself. We’re to parlay safe passage, and it's in your best interest to help.”

  “Admiral.” Kim tapped his thighs pensively. “You said that earlier, didn’t ya. Which one?”

  “Which one? Admiral Christian Halbert—”

  “Never heard of him,” he pulled out a rolled cigarette and fiddled with its ends, “but that was the making of a good story. You hear it, Remmy? Thee Admiral.”

  “I heard it.”

  Murphy pieced together the fragments of clues he’d picked up since waking on the Razorback, but Mina beat him to it.

  “There’s multiple Admirals now,” Mina said.

  “Now?” Kim said, “there’s been three admirals since, oh, sixty-five years ago? Before my time, and don’t say nothing about how long that is, I’ve done enough of the work for ya as it is.”

  The crew shared a look. They knew it’d been near a hundred years, but each small detail of the new world seemed to shake loose a dozen of the old. Why three elite admirals? Why hadn’t they heard of Christian?

  Mina swung her hands to the bars.

  “This proves our story though. We said we set sail a century ago, crash landed in the belt, and woke up here, now. It would make sense that we don’t know there are three admirals.”

  “That’s a good point,” Remy said from the doorway.

  “Ha!” Val said from the bench.

  Kim took a look at the deputy in the doorway. The younger man nodded his hat and went back into the office.

  “It is a fair point,” Kim said, “one maybe a deputy in training could believe, but Quaymen are skeptic. We were a gun running hub for a while, you know. I’ve heard all types of stories, my father too when he was warden before me. They could all fit in a book of nice tales you tell your children.”

  “What about that guy, Mac?” Val said. “If you’re looking for the real criminals it’s him and his gang.”

  Kim feigned surprise, “Really? Don’t see a single complaint. Bartender says two surly folk came and disturbed a game of Prisoner. No one forced them to play, it says. And the other citizen complaint—I assume this is you—jumped from table to table scaring customers away.”

  “Come on,” Roman said.

  “Oh, you’re saying you didn’t join the game of your own volition?”

  Roman remained silent.

  “That’s what I thought, now what was he to you that you instigated a fight for the whole town to see?”

  “He was—” Roman started.

  “A distraction,” Murphy finished. “We came here—”

  But Roman returned the interruption.

  “He’s a prick. I thought I could beat him in a card game. Take his money. So what? If their playing wasn’t a crime, then me playing isn’t either.”

  “Playin’s fine. Starting a fight, out of towners like you are, seems like you had an agenda to me. So why don’t you tell it?”

  “Why don’t you tell us why that man, Mac, isn’t here with us?” Mina said, “seems like you have an agenda too, Warden.”

  Kim leaned back in his chair, the light casting aged shadows on his face.

  “No agenda, just the way things work around here.”

  This was beside the point. They needed to convince this man to let them out, not give him a reason to keep them in. If what Mac’s gang had said was true, the rest of Hitori’s crew could be in danger, or worse, the meck could have already been stolen.

  Murphy had tried diplomacy, now it was time for something else.

  “The way things work around here? Are you sure you just don’t work for him? Outpost like this, no longer a transguild station, making penance for what it did in its hay day. I bet you were looking for a man like Mac to bring in some extra business. Was the money you made worth it?”

  For a long minute the only sound was the air rattling through the vents.

  “You don’t know a thing about this place, biggen,” Kim said. “And you’re guessin’ is getting you closer to that dark cell downstairs. Believe me.”

  Big words, but Murphy felt Kim’s nerve falter.

  “We can talk about it downstairs, anywhere you like. Or you can let us out, help us find a transport, and we’ll be on our way. No more questions need answering.”

  Kim’s lips pulled tight around his teeth. Was he actually considering it?

  “You’re a rat, Warden.” Roman blurted, “what’s Mac doing out here?”

  Kim’s spine returned to him, and Murphy—not near the last time—restrained his desire to strike Roman.

  “Since you’re so keen on me sharing information, I assume you’d honor me in doing the same? I want to know what Mac’s boys were talking about finding there in the wastes. Where is it, what is it, why’s it here?”

  “So you can tell him exactly how to get it?” Mina said.

  “Little lady, I may not look it, but I may be trying to help you.”

  Roman struck the bars with his open hand making the metal hum.

  “Yeah, looks like it.”

  Kim ran a hand down his face. The dirt streaking his cheeks even more. The man truly was tired, that part at least was no sham.

  “Look, tell me what’s out there and—”

  “It’s dangerous,” Val snapped, “the exhaust alone will kill any who get near.”

  For a moment Murphy nearly slapped his hand over her mouth to keep her from talking. They already knew it existed, but they could at least keep the secret as much as they could.

  “Four legs, six falc cannons on the revbars. High glycerine drills meant to sear through null-dense high grav shield armor. It takes five nuclear turbines just to turn that head,” she reached the cell door and pushed her face between the bars, “its shell can reach 850 degrees with the flip of a button. You don’t want to mess with it, warden. That gun of yours will melt before you have time to piss yourself.”

  There was a pause, where even Murphy just stood looking at her, imagining the hulking machine she described. He couldn’t tell if it was a bad or good idea. Then Kim laughed.

  “Now that’s a good one. Y’all are the most imaginative, if not slow on the up tick,” he put his hat on, wiping a tear from his eyes. “Shoe, that’s good. Remmy, you heard that one?”

  “Yep.”

  “I’m quaking,” Kim said.

  “Warden,” Murphy started.

  “Now that’s enough. I’ve given you the time of day, and I'm fresh out now. You got something in the ‘skirts that’s got Mac and his boys riled, you’ll have to deal with the consequences. For me, I’m gonna—”

  The ground shook. It was a slight tremor, barely detectable, but everyone looked about wondering if the rest felt it. It came again, and this time it was accompanied by a sound. A megaphone? The front door to the office opened and closed. Kim looked back and shared a look with Remy.

  The source was getting closer.

  The door opened again and Sam ran in huffing.

  “What’s going on?” Kim asked.

  “Don’t know but you’re gonna wanna come see.”

  The warden fixed each of them with a look as good as handcuffs and moved off. Remmy went to follow and Kim shot back a finger.

  “You, stay. Watch ‘em.”

  “Oh…my…god…” Val said from behind them. She stood on the bench against the back wall face plastered to the small window pane at the very top.

  “What?” Roman said, pushing his face against hers to look out.

  “Quit it!” Val said, pushing back.

  The voice from the megaphone came through a little clearer as the tremors continued.

  “Let me see,” Murphy didn’t wait for them to move. He grabbed the scruff of their jacket and yanked. The pane was barely large enough for Val and Roman’s face together. Murphy had to peer to the side to see into the street. It was a terrible angle, but just good enough to see a meck bending down on one knee in the street.

  It was theirs, unmistakably. It held his hands up showing he meant no harm to the miniscule humans who were either too stunned to move, or were already running away.

  When the voice Occam’s PA system came again they heard Arthur’s voice.

  “Wait,” Arthur cried, “I’m just looking for my friends?”

  Before he could finish his sentence, the pedestrians regained control of their limbs and ran. Occam’s next movement was all too human-like. It stood and heaved its shoulders like a child being told to clean their room.

  “I just want to find my friends.”

  Val squeezed her face next to Murphy’s—the woman had no sense of boundaries.

  “I think we’re in for a show!”

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