Did she really want to fly out to Rork Springs? It meant jogging far to the south—almost to Corporate Mine—before she could find a pass low enough for her aircar to cross the Winds. Then it would be another couple of hours flying back to the north-northwest.

Where she’d be forced to relive Trish’s meaningless death every time she stepped out the front door. See her dying friend each time she laid eyes on that couch in the main room.

Thunder boomed, carrying down from the heights to echo in the lowlands.

Screw it, by the time they got south, they’d be flying through thunderstorms.

“Come on, Dek,” she told him. “Give me your hand.”

Dek’s eyes remained unfocused, his mutterings so much senseless babble.

Talina reached down, grabbed him by the shoulder, and shook. “Dek! Hey, wake up!”

He blinked. Look confused, and then managed to focus. “Talina? We’re . . . I mean, are we at Chaco’s place? But it looks . . . not right. Nothing . . . right . . .”

“Two Falls Gap. Come on. Help me here.”

Talina slung her rifle, half-manhandled him out of the aircar, and took his weight on the left side as they hobbled into the dome.

Inside, she lowered Dek onto the couch, wishing she’d taken time to wipe it down with a wet cloth first, but too late for that.

“Don’t move,” she told him, retreating back to the aircar, putting up the top, and grabbing the pack she’d made up back in PA. From the under-seat storage, she pulled out survival blankets and gear. Toting her outfit back inside, she dropped it on the table with a clatter, asking, “How you doing?”

“Kylee’s playing with Rocket,” he told her with a smile. “Hide and seek, but Rocket cheats.”

“He was really something, the little twerp.” She could sense Rocket’s pleasure where he perched on her shoulder. Imagined him taking a bow, his collar flaring in happy colors of white patterned with pink and orange.

Stepping over to the sink, Talina checked the water. Was delighted to see it run when she opened the faucet. She allowed the brown scaly stuff to cycle through until it was clear, and then ran a sample through the test kit from the survival gear.

“Looks like we’re good to go with the water,” she told Dek. “A little scale from the pipes, and the occasional algae signature, but otherwise it’s drinkable.”

“ . . . bite my fart . . . gas-sucking son of a bitch . . .” Dek looked delirious again. “Clean your own damn toilet, scum suckers . . .”

His fists were knotting manically, his legs moving, twitching slightly, his feet jerking.

“Learning muscle control,” Rocket told her from her shoulder.

“Demon? Or you and the Rorkies?”

“Can’t tell without exchanging TriNA.”

“Yeah, well, let’s hope it’s you. If Demon takes him over, I’ll be damned if I’ll let him live that way.”

In her gut, Demon chortled.