Falling Sky (17 page)

I slip in behind him and find him at the bar.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I ask.

He turns to me and I swear his eyes are about to spit fire. He holds up a finger. “You. No. Not now. Just . . . go away.”

“I can't,” I say. “I need to talk to you.”

He turns away from me and back to the bar. “I don't give a fuck about what you need. Go away.”

“Diego,” I say. “Please.”

He shakes his head and makes a face as if he just swallowed something bitter. “You have some fucking ego. Why would you think I want to talk to you? What could that possibly accomplish?”

“It could be beneficial. Helping me could help you.”

“And how is that even fucking possible?”

I put my hands up as if to placate him. “Let me buy you a drink and I'll explain.”

He growls. An actual chesty growl. But then he says, “Fine. A light ale.” Then he stalks off to a table.

I get two light ales and go to join him.

I place his beer down in front of him before taking the seat opposite.

Diego takes a sip and then slams the mug down on the table. “Well?”

I inhale. “I need you to take me somewhere.”

He barks a laugh. “Oh, of course. I should have known.”

I sit back in my chair.

He leans forward. “I'm clearly an idiot. And a bad judge of character. I stuck my neck out for you and practically got it cut off. Now you want to, what, finish the job?”

“It's not like that.” I take a swallow of the beer.

“So what is it like?” Diego asks. “Why do you need me?”

I meet his eyes and smile. “I'm going after my ship.”

Diego stares back at me, incredulous.

“You're not going to say anything?” I ask.

“I don't know,” Diego says. “I don't know what's crazier, the fact that you think you can get your ship back or that you expect me to help you with that.”

“I only need a ride,” I say. “And you can give it to me.”

“It's a fucking ship,” he says. “You can get another one. Eventually.”

“The
Cherub
is not just a ship. She's part of my history. She's part of who I am. She's my home and she's a link to the past. My family. The world before.”

Diego take a long draft of his ale. “Not my problem.”

“It isn't. You're right. But you haven't asked me what's in it for you.”

Diego looks at me like I'm brain-dead. Then he says, “Fine. I'll bite if it ends all this. What's in it for me?”

“I know you're in the shit with your people. I know that you're anxious to get back in their good graces. I can help you do that.”

Diego shakes his head. “You must be out of your fucking mind if you think I'm going to get burned twice.”

“Just listen to me.”

Diego shakes his head again. “Where exactly is it you think you're going?”

“Gastown,” I say.

Diego looks at me like I imagine I often look at Miranda.

“Gastown raiders took my ship,” I say. “They either sold it, or they kept it. Either way, Gastown seems like the best place to start looking for it.”

“They probably stripped it for parts by now,” he says.

“Not the
Cherub
,” I say, with maybe a bit too much force. “She's too good for that.”

He rolls his eyes and I try not to be offended. He inhales deeply and spreads his hands out flat on the table. “So you really think you're going to go into the heart of enemy territory, among people who wouldn't think twice about wiping Tamoanchan out, with the location of this island.”

It may be the beer, but I feel like I'm revved up here. Things clicking together. “That's just it,” I say. “They are the enemy. And sooner or later they're going to try to wipe you out.”

“You're not making your case very well.”

“But that
is
the case. You should know about them. Know their capabilities. Their strengths. Their weaknesses. Learn all you can about them. How else will you know what they can throw at you?”

“They can't reach us if they don't know about us.”

“But right now that's your only defense. And once that breaks down, then what? You're sitting targets. You're fucking plods, for Christ's sake.”

“So you're saying what? I go with you? Poke around on Gastown?”

“That's exactly what I'm saying.” I stand up. “Look, wait a second. Let me get you another beer.”

He sighs. “Fine.”

I grab another light ale and this time a dark ale for me, both for a can of beans. Then I return to Diego. “It makes perfect sense,” I say. “Not only do you get to check out Gastown, but you get to keep an eye on me.”

He gives me a skeptical look.

“You come with me, keep an eye on me, and if you think there's a danger of information getting out, you can deal with it.” I leave this deliberately vague. I don't intend for it to be an issue, but in this case “dealing” with it could mean getting me out of there quickly or shooting me before I can say something.

He pulls back, frowns, but I can tell he's mulling it over. The sting of that Gastown attack is still fresh in his mind and maybe something else. Truth be told, I'm surprised I'm doing so well.

“You're in the shit with your people,” I repeat. “Deep, from the sounds of it.” I flash him one of my most charming smiles. “Maybe this can help dig you out.”

He rubs at his beard. “I can't help but thinking that you're bad news.” He slams back his beer.

I meet his eyes. “Look,” I say. “I promise I'll make this up to you. I'll help find a way to make up for what I did. Put things right. But I'm nothing without my ship. This way you get information on Gastown and another ship for the cause.”

Diego drinks his beer. Then he stands up to leave.

“Just be aware that I'm going to do this with or without you,” I say. “I'd rather do it with you. I'd rather you get something for your troubles.”

He bends down until his face is level with mine. “You are my troubles,” he says.

Then he leaves.

I, of course, continue to drink. This seems to be the best thing to do with my time. At least until I can think of a Plan B with regard to getting off of Tamoanchan. Diego was my best bet. He had the ability to come and go without scrutiny. He had reason to hate Gastown. And we had a prior relationship. Too bad I pissed all over that.

I'm so focused on trying to come up with an alternate plan that I almost don't notice when Diego returns to his seat a few hours later.

“You haven't moved,” he says.

I shrug. “I don't have anywhere to be.”

He laces his hands together on the table and looks at me across them. “That may not be true.”

I tilt my head to indicate my cluelessness.

“I'll take you,” he says. Then with a bump of his hands on the table. “I'll take you.”

I stare at him with bleary eyes. I didn't think my pitch had worked. “You sure?”

He looks quickly away. Grits his teeth. “I don't really have a lot of choice.”

I nod.

He points a large finger at me. “You buried me. In the shit, as you put it. I need to find a way to climb back out again. You're going to help me with that.”

“Sounds good to me,” I say. As long as it gets me closer to the
Cherub
.

“And Rosie's coming as well,” he says.

I nod. I half-expected it. “What is she to you?” I ask.

“She's my sister.”

“Ah. That makes sense.” I guess they're not twins, which makes them rare. Not many people are having children in the Sick. Those who do tend not to have more than one. It's too difficult trying to protect little ones. Let alone little twos.

“When are we off?”

He stands up. “Soon enough,” he says. “Morning. You have a place to stay?”

I nod.

“Then meet me down by the airfield tomorrow morning.”

I stand up, feeling a little unsteady on my feet. I reach out my hand. “Thanks,” I say.

He leaves my hand where it is. “Tomorrow morning,” he says. Then he walks away.

I allow the smile once he's gone. I have a ride out of here. And I'm going after the
Cherub
.

I have preparations to make.

“What do you think?” Diego asks, turning to me as he pilots the
Osprey
across the sky. She's a fine-looking ship. Not the
Cherub
, of course. But nothing else is. The
Osprey
's a cargo ship like the
Cherub
, but without the VTOL capabilities. But few enough ships have those.

“Good work,” I say.

He keeps her differently than I would. He's cobbled together some comfortable seating, for one thing. And there are a few too many trinkets, from the look of it. Compartments, switches, doodads. I'm a minimalist when it comes to things like that. But there's nothing wrong with it.

“What's our play?” Rosie says. Her arms are crossed in front of her and she leans back on a console. This is the first time I've seen her unwrapped. She's lean, hard looking. Also lighter than Diego. Her dark hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail. There's something dangerous about her.

I shrug casually. “We go in as simple foragers. Looking for some business.”

“So we're going to need to get some barter,” she says.

I nod. “That's going to be the hard part.”

“Oh,
that
is?” Diego says. “And here I thought trying to bluff our way through Gastown without getting ourselves killed was going to be hard.”

I ignore him. We'll need to come in with enough barter to make it seem that we're ready to trade, but just enough so that it will look like we're desperate. “We need them to think we need them,” I say.

“I know a place where we can go,” Diego says. He moves to the controls, using a pull-down map to help plot his course.

I raise my eyebrows at him but don't press. It's not good etiquette. Thing is, secrets are not worth keeping in the Sick. Even if you do know of a likely place for spoils, you don't want to hold on to that. Every hour you waste, every minute, is a chance for someone else to find it, clean it out before you get to it. It's just bad business.

Really, I should just shut up and let Diego run the show. It's his ship, after all. But I'm not as polite as I used to be.

“Where are we heading?” I ask.

He looks at me, surprised, then back to his headings. “I got a tip.”

I nod. “Okay. What kind of tip?”

“There's a stash. Nothing decent. Nothing too valuable, but enough that we can sail in with something.”

“And where did you get the location of this stash?”

He stands up and squares off against me. “Do you think I'm an idiot?” he says. “I knew what we needed. I called in a favor.”

I force myself to relax. I don't think he's an idiot, but I'm not used to relying on other people. I'm used to running the show. But of course he's thought ahead. I nod. “Good thinking. That will save us a lot of trouble.”

“Don't I know it,” he says.

“So.” I look out the window of the gondola. “Is there a reason why this stash hasn't been looted yet?”

“You could say that,” he says. Something twists in my stomach.

“Ferals.”

He nods. “There's a nest right on top of it. My man swears that the salvage is intact. Mostly. Only it's crawling with those bastards.”

“Great.”

“We have weapons. And there are four of us. We can clear them out and grab a few pieces before moving on.”

“Oh. Sure. You make it sound so easy,” I say.

“There's nothing easy in the Sick,” he says.

I'm forced to agree.

“Wait,” I say. “Four?”

Diego looks down, then at Rosie.

“About that,” she says.

I turn around.

Someone steps out of the back room of the gondola.