Ceder

- 8 -

Deep breaths.

Looking at myself in the mirror for a second and don't recognize the sight.

Hair has been growing out. Haven't found the time to cut it. Mottled and... doesn't matter. I itch at a little wound on my face from this morning. My head feels heavy. I exit the bathroom. Rhodes is watching the beachfront from a lounge chair with her head hung low.

-

It's been a few weeks. Not easy at any point but things have gotten slightly routine. We talk a lot, but I'm not a great conversation partner. I've felt disloyal and lied to her about various things and I'm certain she's had reason to do the same. I've tried to think of ways to get out of this thing, alone, but I don't see myself doing that. For now we're in it together. Would rather she doesn't die because I screw up.

Almost screwed up a few days ago. I was, by that point, pretty convinced we were being chased by ghosts. No sign of Greenview, no sign of being followed. Then when we're walking out a corner store together she gets harangued by a few homeless guys and nearly taken away before I scoot in. Thought it was some unrelated scam until one of them dropped the name Arborist and then we both freaked out.

Ran through alleys and back roads for two hours that day. My shot leg gets no rest, huh. But eventually we were kilometers away and could breathe. I've been getting used to carrying her like luggage to keep us close and covert. We use the duffel for that, now.

Anyway. The threat is real again. Doesn't change that we're hungry and poor and need to sleep.

Got the luxury of staying in places longer sometimes when Rhodes has confidence in the spot. We'll have this hotel room for the day and tomorrow since it's reserved for someone who's not gonna make it here in time. Asked Rhodes why. "Saw him have a heart attack on a subway," she said, straightforward. I didn't ask more.

Time is something we simultaneously have too much and too little of. It's a little past noon and we'll have until tomorrow night; it feels like we don't have a moment to breathe regardless.

I go sit in the other lounge chair to watch the bay.

-

"Kesh Band," she clarifies. "Not, aha. Kesh Ring. Close."

"Any people on it?" I ask.

Rhodes shrugs. "Some, yeah. Some live there. It's good for making spaceships."

I squint to see it through the clouds. A dark seam, blobby, extending from sky to sky. Different angle than this morning, different angle than last night. Rotates differently than the planet does. "Who built it?"

"Dunno. People from before Velnias was a thing."

The idea makes me laugh a little. "Uh-huh."

She waggles her hands. "Ahhh, like, nobody knows who, but, you know, it's always been here! Aliens."

"Bet it's a cool place to live."

"Yeah. Oh, yeah, fuck yeah. I think it's microgravity though." She leans back a little and crosses her legs with a little shake. "You'd fare very badly."

I look back at her. "You'd fare well. Why aren't you up there?"

"No place to hide. No, um, city." Rhodes clacks her mandibles softly against her mouth, as if she's trying to correct her own words. "And couldn't get transit anyway, us. With this going on."

"Have to figure out something eventually."

"Ahah. Yeah."

I look back outward.

It's enormous but it's not too enormous to not be able to see it all at once. The grandeur of the Velnias waterfront eventually gives way to these vast rings of artificial land north and south, built to combat the intense waves. Industrial districts there, smokestacks and wide asphalt roads. Then the many thousands of plots of freight platforms handling every bit of cargo destined for Berith, Ere, Haraad, all the other places whose names I don't know. From this angle I can see that only a little bit of the walk is actually a walk—the rest, and most of what Rhodes and I avoided, is nothing but shipping.

Can make out some older buildings below us. The ones too close to the water to be built on top of. Brick, which I hadn't seen anywhere else in the city, lots of brick and mortar. Some buildings with funny designs and painted steel artwork for rooftops in the mix, where they demolished the old stuff.

Then I turn my attention back out at the Cestabin Sea itself. Resting in the shadow of the Kesh Band it looks like rolling, verdant hills of quartz, all those hard edges made of seafoam, and from this hotel room on the fifty-sixth floor of the Okamoto Industries Jeweled Stay & Work Luxury Hotel I can make out the trade routes trailing north and south around the bay. Then a lone few superfreighters sail directly east across the ocean to Haraad where the rain gives way to seaside heat. Those sailors are in for many days of rough seas. If I try, I can picture myself aboard, running from all this.

Then again I can only really picture myself being right where I am, for better or worse.

After a few minutes, I peer back over to Rhodes. She's nested against the side of her chair, eyes mostly-shut, hands gripping the armrests so tightly it looks like she's straining. Her one good antenna is drooped as if sapped dry. "All good?" I ask.

"Yeah," she murmurs. "Tired."

I leave her to it.

-

We play blackjack for a little while during the sunset. I'm better at it than her. The imaginary dealer keeps cleaning us out for imaginary cash though. I playfully suggest we win a bunch of money at a casino by cheating with the mounted cameras. "Easy job," I say, chuckling.

"Think we'd still have shit luck," she laughs.

"Ey, maybe." I hunch over the coffee table peacefully. Reminds me of killing time back home.

-

Just after I've drifted off to sleep my arm slaps me awake desperately.

Rhodes is crouched on the floor and her eyes are boggled out and I crawl next to her. "What," I ask, foggy in the head.

"Like you said to look for," she whispers. "Guy in the lobby with an ear piece."

"Searching for us?"

"Think so. Loitering." Then she goes quiet for a second and I see some tears in her eyes. Fear I guess or overwhelmed at looking through all the hotel's cameras at once. "Not alone... not alone. Like four others are using the stairwell."

I'm gritting my teeth and bring her upright by her shoulders. "Shit. Leave no trace."

We scamper around the hotel room frantically to get everything we've left. Deck of cards I toss in the trash because I'm panicking too much. Duffel bag, backpack, two bottles of water. I make my bed and Rhodes flattens the comforter on hers. "Coming up," she hisses. "Don't think they know which room we're in but must have seen us coming into the building."

"Sticking to the plan, then."

I hoist her up in my arms and hurry out of the room, locking it behind us.

-

We come into the sixty-fifth floor bathrooms and they're unoccupied. No way to run, no secret passage. Just have to hide until the heat is gone. Closet case. I get us into a stall and leave the door shut and locked and crouch on the closed toilet seat so they can't check for us under the stalls. I have the bag by my side and Rhodes in my arms.

We fall completely quiet. I can see her eyes filled with tears. Watching the whole hotel now, with her cybernetic. Too much all at once. Too much. Wish I had the confidence to tell her it's gonna be okay.

-

"Still here," she whispers. I don't know how long it's been.

-

The sound of the bathroom door coming open. A few heavy footsteps in, then a pause, then they go out. Rhodes whispers something I can't hear. My knees are fucking killing me.

-

Rhodes tells me they're fanning out through the whole damn building. Every hotel room is getting a knock. Nobody in Greenview garb. If OMI knew they were doing this they'd be in such shit. Or the corps are cooperating. Just don't check the camera feeds. Please. Plainclothes people with earpieces and anonymous faces. Whoever can be scrounged up.

She's not able to sleep. I'm not able to rest.

-

Three hours of this.

-

In the morning the last of them leaves through the parking garage in the basement. Big limousine. When I come out of the bathroom stall I immediately collapse on my numb legs and yelp out and drop Rhodes. She scrambles to my side. "S-Sorry," she whimpers.

"I can't walk," I tell her.

Well if you can't walk then neither of you are getting out of here alive, Nelly.

I keep trying to slap my legs awake.

-

A tall woman in a two-piece suit comes in the bathroom and finds us. Rhodes tells her I'm drunk. "Can you get us some water?" she asks. She masks her accent almost entirely.

"Water," I repeat.

She gives us an empty smile and says, "Um, sure."

After she leaves the bathroom I decide it's time to crawl. Now or never.

-

We use the elevator. I look at my knees and they're red and purple. Blood vessels popped. Stupid fucking plan. I'm on the verge of tears from discomfort and my breath is short from panicking. When I look into Rhodes' eyes I see someone who hasn't slept properly in weeks. Been checking cameras for us. Just watching. Just watching to be sure. Every night. For things like this. I'm holding her close. Her little heartbeat fluttering on an uneven rhythm.

When we get to the parking garage she guides us to an unoccupied dark corner behind one of the ramps. After a couple minutes of nervous scooting I manage to get there and by that point Rhodes is walking a little bit but she's clearly gassed. I am only half conscious.

I sit up against the concrete and curl up in a ball and wish I was home.

-

When I was sixteen I joined up with the Confederate military and got sent to Stromm's Landing on a blitz to re-secure it for an upcoming offensive in the War. I only got an hour of sleep each night leading up to that. You're a fucking mariner, boy, you're a fucking soldier. Man up. It felt good to have a gun in my hand. It felt like I was making something of myself. All a haze now but the realest the world had ever been at the time. Shot a couple people and don't remember their faces. Slept in hammocks, kept watch around fires. Few months later when I got captured and imprisoned by locals I remember thinking, I wish I was home. Back home. I wish I hadn't done any of this shit at all.

Then again in prison I had a lot of time to sleep.

And I met Pell.

-

"Need to do something about this," I whisper to Rhodes.

"Yeah?"

"Please. Can't keep running like this. You can't."

She holds her head against my arm and whimpers softly. This woman has not known rest for as long as I've known her. "Yeah," she says.

"Can you think of anyone that can help us. Anywhere."

"Maybe."

"I'll take a maybe."

She exhales with sharpness. "Mmmhh. Guess I would take a 'maybe' too at this point."

So I ask her what she's got.

- 9 -

Laudenberger Subway Station, a little before noon. Inland from Salt Row far enough that we're nearing Tiab Town which I am wholly unfamiliar with. The ceiling is low and the air is strange; simultaneously near enough to Free Port Exchange to see a lot of traffic and a diverse set of traffic. First time I've ever seen this many Tasran in one place. Bugs abound. Their garb is extravagant but intentional like models in trenches; the Tasran here, who are of the Tasran guilds, or else a corp in affiliation, dress with belts and capes and cloaks and coats, and coiling waterproof headdress with holes for antennae, and most prominently an assortment of custom-made facemasks displaying horrible grins and snarls, or even just obscure shapes which evoke some kind of emotion. But all still bustling and busy and paying little mind to the equal measure of Salt Row vagabonds. Humans like myself in hoodies and raincoats but also joggers in shorts, whole bunches of sailors. I've heard most Palisade sailors come from Berith but some are returning home here. Tight garb, sweat, an urge to get on the next train. Then the stray cats everywhere and one mutt on a leash having the time of its life staring at everyone.

I have Rhodes curled up in the Bug Bag and we're waiting for the next train from Ever Street. I look like just another hobo carrying her life on her back.

Legs working well enough to hobble around but that's about all we're gonna get out of them today.

-

Right on time.

I post up behind a pole and try to straighten my mop hair and pick out a tall person with a suitcase, wearing robes that look almost holy to me. White and gold speckled and with a cape and enormous outlander boots for trekking in saltwater. I'd seen Archeo-Christian crosses in some places on Velnias and Sikh men in turbans at the markets and Lohmanites loitering outside boardwalk churches but I don't recognize this look. Not recently anyway.

Someone from Haraad across the sea. An enormous lizard tail swishing behind him low to the tiled floor and horns peeking in a straight line through his hood. Not Norakkin but of a similar faith.

Nelly, what do you think about the War anymore?

I don't feel any way about it at all.

I'm following the figure at a middle distance. He's headed not to the stairwell leading to the street level but to a side entrance intended for Velnias civil workers. I continue to trail behind him. Looking to the stairs with my head cocked to the side but my eyes on him. It's only when we break free of the crowded subway platform and I divert my course from the stairs that, in a flash, he's turned around.



I was trained in the Forward Thinking Protectors center on Old Tibor for nine months, when I was still pretty much a kid. In that time we got a lot of news about the War that had consumed the last century and our opponent in that war. The Third Empire is our greatest and most long-lasting enemy to freedom in the United Confederate Colonies, but fear not! We did a lot of target practice on pictures of lizard people, a lot of silhouettes of rounded snouts and long tails and spikes, and we ran drills on defeating the grav-lift tech that made their tanks unstoppable, and practiced shooting at a target twice our height that didn't stop for anything, and we talked a big game about cutting off tails and gutting them and everything else you talk shit about in boot camp. Then I never shot at a Norakkin in my life. Some things just work themselves out.

This Neriak wasn't Norakkin at any point anyway. So it's just a flash of remembering that hits me on accident. He does have a gun though.

Holding a strange blocky pistol at hip level but I direct my attention to his face. Blood red and brown scales like wet peat in fading patterns alongside a pallid neck, and a dozen bracelets and neck rings that jangle mostly silently from the felt wrapped around them to deaden the sound. A bronze loop piercing below his lizard chin and an enigmatic expression always showing teeth. He is large and fat and nimble. His gun isn't visible from the side and only barely visible from the front, the way he's brandishing it. I put my free hand at a low angle to indicate that I am not a threat. "Hi," I say.

"Have you been following me?" he asks. His accent is thick and blunt and his voice is deep. It reminds me of a dead tree stump.

"Yeah." I clear my throat and briefly glance behind myself to make sure we're alone. Close enough. Not being crowded around at least. I return my gaze to him. "I'm a fugitive outlander on the run from a corporation called Greenview Solutions. I need help and am running out of options."

He tilts his head very deliberately. Within a second he's lowered the gun. Maybe he's just recognized that I'm not very mobile or able to ambush him. "Oh," he says. "I suppose. Could we talk with some privacy?"

So he cautiously regains hold of his roller suitcase and leads me into the maintenance passage.

-

Rhodes has crawled out of the Bug Bag and is sitting beside me on a closed metal coffer a few paces into a tunnel, off to the side. I have learned that the Neriak's name is Ceder. He is mildly put off by the fact that I had a person hanging out in a duffel bag but the details of our situation at least give it some justification. "Why choose to follow me?" he asks.

I am mostly doing the talking. Rhodes is quiet and making herself small. She gets a word in sometimes but I'm fine with taking over. "She noticed you take the same route every day, carry luggage but don't return it. Figured you were militia or a caretaker or with the Rebellion or something. Got desperate," I explain, now running a little low on breath, "and took a risk."

"I manage a speakeasy," he replies, quietly. Then he pipes up. "But I was in the Rebellion, in a sense of speaking. Good people here, good cause. Things have certainly gotten muddy of late."

"Noticed." I am mostly deadpan on that subject. The Peacekeepers quelled that riot real quick. Could've been us, Nelly, could've been us. "I'm from Stromm's Landing, a village. Contributed a little..." I frown and shake my head. I don't know if I want to mention Pell around Rhodes. We still haven't talked about it in any detail at all. "...moved some eighty millimeter guns from War bunkers to the cities, help counter the, uh, Cobalt Act tariffs."

But Ceder holds his palm up to interrupt. I notice he has trimmed claws. "I do not need cred from you or anything. I believe your story, if only for the brazen nature of it." He looks over to Rhodes, who looks at him back. "The cyber-netic puts me off some. Is it why they're after you?"

"Maybe," Rhodes murmurs.

"It's a good bet," I say. "Helps some around the city. How we found you."

With a little pride she speaks again. "Couldn't, ah, do that with just a normal computer. Could see the whole schedule, i-isolate you out... past sixty days of activity..."

"I do have a routine," Ceder admits. Then he nods. "I see. It is their property, and that is why you have gone to such lengths. I know a friend who can remove it for you and solve this."

I jump in immediately. "It's holding her brain together. Not an option."

"And, ah, ah, the backdoor is probably why they're pissed," Rhodes adds.

To this Ceder nods with a slight acceptance. "It is still putting me off," he mentions, "but I understand." I know the Third Empire faithful have plenty of issue with these sorts of things—imitations of life is the phrase I got taught—but the Haraadi Neriak are of a lot older sort and it seems, at least for him, a flexible point. "What are we to do?"

"I just wanted a place she could sleep a night or two," I say. "Can't be on the run forever. If you know anyone, if you know anywhere in the underbelly..."

"Undercity," Rhodes whispers.

"Undercity."

Ceder seems to be mulling it over. His expression is inscrutable but not like Rhodes who simply doesn't emote like me—I think he is just hard to read. I keep my bug close and wait to hear the news that we're a bad omen and we should get the fuck out of his sight.

Then, he says, "Well, I have a back room."

- 10 -

I don't know shit about the 'Undercity', of course. The city below the city. Then there are cities below that city. But not a lot of people live this low under Velnias and it is harder to blend in and so much can go wrong that Rhodes had never even entertained the idea before now. The story goes that what you see of Velnias now is only what's built on top of the rest, that even the Gutters are structures atop a structure—that there is entirely a layered history, old skyscrapers now buried in concrete made of moonrock and subway tunnels that just keep going down. Old factories turned to caves replacing the habitats of many a kind of vermin. All this a product of time. Hundreds of years. Maybe a thousand. Before humans got stuck in the Dust Sector we had thousands of years of history but all of that disappeared in the blink of a wormhole. Velnias hasn't disappeared.

I guess in part like the Neriak we're following. Got the impression he's old. Probably more memory of the War than me but also probably participated in the conflict even less. Wonder what he thought about it, if he thought much.

My legs are real fucking annoyed about how much walking we're doing but I don't intend to stop this close to salvation and I really don't want to drop Rhodes. So we go on.

The subway maintenance tunnels which run under a lot of this part of the city have all kinds of mysterious doors that beg the imagination and eventually Ceder finds one that looks familiar to him and pulls a key from a pocket along his flowing white robe. I look at the deadbolt. BARGER. We could have shimmed this one.

-

Rhodes has her eyes shut in my arms. I doubt she's sleeping but she's not watching through cameras right now, I don't think. Hope not.

-

The route is circuitous and full of short-stepped stairs. At some point we're in someplace that looks cleaner than the tunnels—linoleum floor and submarine lamps and a couple of people chilling on a metal bench that looks stolen from a nearby community center. There are signs in Vasthi that look professionally made though. Rhodes limply sits her head on the side of my arm and points at one of them. "Can we, ah, use that bathroom," she asks.

Ceder pauses and turns back, and then I see a smile strike his face. "Certainly. It is just a short bit to the Hang'd Knight, though," he says.

"Like the fish?" Rhodes laughs, softly.

"Pre-cisely like the fish."

-

We take a detour to a pretty well-kept public restroom. I chat with Ceder a little bit out front while Rhodes takes time to herself.

"How deep are we?"

He can't hide a little smile. "Not deep at all. Just the place called Corundum Town. Some people here call it the boardwalk of the Undercity, as it is nice for visitors. It was once a mega-mall some kilometers across."

I think briefly about what deeper would look like. "Me and her couldn't find any entrances to the Undercity."

"It is hard to, on purpose. Sometimes folks seal popular stairwells with concrete." Ceder has some thoughts on that that strike his face, but he keeps them to himself. "There are some local police here, like above. Very little League presence, though not none."

"Yeah." I glance over to an adjourning wall with a notice board. Lots of papers hung up, little advertisements for concerts, parties, container sales. I see one newer than the others. LOST: Aria Barathrum Smith. Baultriel accent, long brown hair, may have been cut. Please call if you see her. There's a photograph of a young-looking and thin woman posing for a picture at a red light bar someplace far away. The datapad number looks somewhat smudged out. I turn to Ceder. "Didn't seem like a good region to hide out til now."

"It won't be for her," he explains. "An expensive cybernetic causes rumors."

I smile emptily. "She said the same."

He looks at me like we're a couple of adults standing outside a birthday party. You hiding in there, honey-baby? Your grampa just wants to see his kid. Please? Could you at least make an appearance? Then he speaks. "I am certain I can keep you in the back room a couple days, but I am not so certain that I can take responsibility for your problem for long."

"Work for you, if you'd have me." I swallow. "Or just... if you know anywhere with free supplies, anywhere to hide out..."

As I speak, Rhodes hobbles out of the bathroom with her antenna drooping. "We can talk about this in due time," Ceder says to me, before turning to her. "Ready?"

She clasps her mandibles to her face. "Mhm. Think so. Is the speakeasy actually safe?"

"You can be the judge," Ceder says. Happy to seesaw between caring about the situation and being nonplussed. I've known many men like that. "If you are still coming along."

"Haven't seen cameras around," she admits. "So maybe. I guess. Out of options."

We are. So we continue along with Ceder deeper into the commerce district of Corundum Town beneath the city.

-

I am little bit dazzled by the scale of the place. Floors upon floors, new passageways made out of old metal shipping containers. We start coming across more tiny plazas that branch off into every direction; lofted painted ceilings, a piece of hanging artwork, concrete everywhere but nice tile floors. Skylights blocked by sheet metal and reinforced to keep the place from caving in. The signs are all in Vasthi. I went to malls as a kid back home but they were freakishly clean and there was a lot of sunlight and I never got the sense anyone could live there, but people clearly live here. From Ceder's description I picture one of those city-sized megamalls that holds two hundred shops, a hotel, a casino. From deep within it I have no clue how big this one was. I keep Rhodes in the Bug Bag since things are getting kind of crowded but she's chatting to me softly and nobody around is close enough to hear.

"See any food shops?"

I tilt my head down to her. There was a meat place running out of an old store along our walk, smelled familiar. Lesh sells kebabs out his old grav tank. Before ya ask, it don't float anymore. "Kebabs, I think?"

"Fucking love kebabs," she hisses from the Bag. "Fuck I wish we had money."

"Might soon." I lower my voice a little. Our guide is a bit ahead of us. "Going to try to work for Ceder, see if he'll let us stay longer."

She pauses for a bit. "...If you can, ah, ah, avoid getting attention."

I nod even though she can probably only see me through a slit in the zipper. "I can shave. And I got taught you can put cotton balls in your mouth to look different."

"Beh, you're not gonna put cotton balls in your mouth all day."

"Naw, but." I laugh a little. "Prosthetic nose?"

"Is that all it takes?" she asks, incredulous.

I step over an abandoned leash for an even-more-abandoned dog. "You tell me, outlaw." Then, I say, after a moment contemplating, "I'll do something."

-

We pass by an underground market square where a playground used to be. There are stores but mostly stalls, and a lot of Baldari. One with their fur in a nice bob. Can't help but notice some people look kind of wealthy. I muse to Rhodes. "Does feel a little like a mall, I guess."

"Heard there's a part that used to be an aeroport," she says, quieter now.

"For planes?"

"No, for boats." She laughs. "Yes, for planes. Would have been a fun way to escape, right?"

I don't think I've been on a plane since home. Everything's reminding me of that. "Yeah. Hold on, think this might be it."

We come up on an unmarked maintenance door in the corner of the plaza. Slightly rusted and heavily used, with track marks on the tile floor where it's been dragged open. Ceder looks back at me as he grabs the handle. Like he's taking one last look to see if I'm a threat. I guess I just don't look it, because he nods, swings the door open, and leads us through a small painted hallway.

After a short stroll through a place that looks particularly transitory we come across a white door with an etched image of a Hang'd Knight, floppy tube-mouth and beady eyes and all. Drawn in a flattering pose but still as silly as I remember. He takes us inside with a smile.

It reminds me of this old spot in Flint Wake run by a boatman and his wife, some bar and grill that always smelled like smoked pork. The place here is windowless and cramped, of course, but there's a couple well-dressed employees already here setting up chairs, tables, turning on lights. One Baldari, one human. Wood trim along the walls. Uncommon for Velnias—despite the Palisade being full to bursting with trees it's still expensive to import from the farms. Canvas artworks of some of the sights around here, one of the skyline from Salt Row. A photograph of Ceder with some people he must call friends. "Said you manage it? You buy it out?" I ask.

"During the, mm." He pauses. "Yes. I'll say more in private."

I pass by the people working with my head down. Ceder rolls the suitcase all the way to a back door behind the bar counter and pulls out a jangly keychain to get it open, and I follow.

Nice little kitchen area with vents that must go all the way to the surface somehow, and a plywood table for employees to take lunches, and then a back room office Ceder says is safe. It's at this point that I get Rhodes out of the Bug Bag and she can finally stretch a little. Crappy legs but it can't be helpful to be in the bag all the time, although she's never complained. There are dim overhead lights like we're in a ship cabin at night.

Then we get into the office.

Immediately in front of the door is a shrine, built where an old dining booth used to be—layers of shelves made of whatever material Ceder could scrounge up, stacked full to bursting with figurines hewn of wood on every level, dotted with beads and tiny pebbles and painted marbles, and all hammocked between unlit candles in glass cups which Ceder is quick to start lighting with a plastic firestarter on the lowermost shelf. On our left is a cozy study with a chair big enough for a Neriak, on our right is a vacant area with a little table and some boxes stuffed in a corner. "There?" I ask, pointing.

"Mhm, yes," Ceder says, paying us little mind now. "Blankets in... the topmost box on the far right. I think."

"Thank you," Rhodes blurts out, and scurries over to set up shop.

- 11 -

It really is a hiding spot. At least it seems that way. Rhodes has made herself a little nest on the floor using some plastic bags as a pillow. After a half hour Ceder seems settled in, has done most of what he needs to to get things running. Customer or two out front need drinks. I hear some clattering in the kitchen. My head still feels heavy from being up all night.

"So, uh." I manage a small smile. Ceder is working out something in the study, so I raise my voice. "Can I work for you, Ceder?"

"Well." He tilts his head down further, studying a calendar. "Need a prep cook always. Dishes. If you could make runs to the shops, but I would suppose that's not something you want to risk."

"I can change my appearance some." I shudder a little bit. "I got a fishing rod stashed away on the surface, could fish up food for, uh. For the kitchen."

At first I assume this is a stupid thing to suggest but Ceder's wizened eyes brighten as he turns to me. "That so?"

"Yeah. Did it for a living on Stromm's."

"Ah-huh, swamp fishing." He can't stifle a grin. "People down here like variety. Scrounged-up things. We sell haykays, rolls with mixed meats."

Rhodes pipes up gleefully. "Those are good," she says. Then she quietens a little. "I mean, um. Ones I've had."

"I can do that. If you'd let us stay a little while, or..." I look over to her. "Just Rhodes, at least. Been meaning to plan some kind of exit strategy but it's gotten away from us." Away from her, I mean to say. I'm always talking about escape.

"The idea is growing on me somewhat." Ceder tilts back to what he's working on. "I kept some stowaways right after the Peacekeepers showed up from orbit during the Magenta Rebellion. Friends of mine. It got very risky all of a sudden."

I nod. "It'd be very kind of you."

"Kind I can do. Just uncertain about how long I'm staying." He tightens his broad shoulders a little. "Was planning to sell the place at last, head home. The Rebellion is over."

"Guess so." I know it'd been over on Stromm's by the time I left. Just Jed Garcia and a few other diehards trying to keep it alive in spite of the risk. Already got what we wanted? Nelly, they brought the hammer down. That's not the clue to give up and roll over. It means it was working. "You don't like owning a bar much, then?"

Ceder laughs softly. "I have a lover to return to, family to see."

Rhodes asks, "How long you been here?" I can tell she's been scanning around. Maybe took a look-see at whatever was in those boxes.

"Three years, off and on."

"Since the start, then," I mumble.

Ceder puts down a pen and takes in a long breath. His tail is wrapped around one of the legs of the chair. Those pretty white-and-gold robes dim a lot in provenance when they're under overhead lighting like this. Probably a lot better under sunlight, Haraadi sunlight. Strange enough I don't feel homesick for Stromm's swampland despite spending a great deal of my life there. But I know homesick is something that can drive a person completely crazy. Maybe crazy enough to take in a couple of fugitives you have no right caring about.

"Well," he declares, "why don't you work tomorrow, prep at six. I'll show you how. Then we see."

"Okay." I nod sharply. "Will do."

So I start working for Ceder.