“Fuck no,” Roland said. “I’ve killed enough naive young men today. I don’t aim to kill any more.”

To his surprise, Jim nodded in acceptance.

“Understandable. This kind of fighting was a violation of our contract. I regret that, Roland. If I’d known this was going to be a meat grinder I wouldn’t have interrupted your retirement.”

Roland wasn’t sure he believed that. But he kept his mouth shut as Jim continued.

“I’d like to propose a renegotiation of our contract. In light of the changing situation on the ground.”

“I’m not blowing up anything else for you.”

“That’s fine.” Jim put his hands out in the sort of placating gesture one would use on an angry dog, “I don’t need your killyness. I need your sneakiness. You can still take faces, right?”

Roland’s memories of his time in the army were as patchy as his memories of everything else. He didn’t remember much about how they’d used him. But he knew that some of the wetware they’d installed allowed him to modify his skin and bone structure to fool facial recognition scanners, thumbprint readers, and, of course, human beings.

“Yes,” he said, “but…”

Jim cut him off, “You don’t need to kill anyone. The face you’ll need is already dead.”

“And what do you want me to do with this man’s face that isn’t more murder?”

Jim’s lips curled up into a grin. The expression sent shivers arcing down Roland’s spine. He felt like he’d seen that grin before, never preceding good things.

“Rolling Fuck is nearby, and in the City of a Wheels are six ­hundred or so real scary bastards. I have it on good authority that they’d be happy to throw down on our side. But it turns out some of their negotiators were captured, back at the start of all this shit. No one in the city will risk fighting until they’re pulled out safely.”

Roland raised an eyebrow, “So, a rescue mission then?”

“That’s right.” Jim grinned in a way Roland didn’t quite trust. “You’ll be saving lives.”

Roland’s gut twisted into knots. The shades of a thousand memories spoke up and warned him not to trust Jim at his word. But those shades also drove him to take Jim up on the offer. He wanted his memories back. Jim smiled that hackle-raising smile again.

“You don’t have to agree yet. Come to Rolling Fuck with me. We’ll talk things over with their elders. You can do some of their fancy space drugs. And then you can make your decision.”

“Alright,” Roland sighed. “But only ’cuz you said ‘fancy space drugs.’”