“Think? No. At this stage we’re well into the realm of established fact.” She shook her head. “There is no Corporate office. No spacer’s lodging. Kalico keeps a barracks just over there in that two-story stone building. That’s for her people rotating through on R&R from Corporate Mine and down at Southern Diggings. But you’ll have to ask her for a bunk assignment.”

“What about . . .” He struggled for the right words. “I mean, well, there’s got to be something. The Corporation—”

“Doesn’t exist here. Get it? We bought Port Authority from The Corporation. We trade with them. They need us, we need them. It’s survival, Skull. But if you’re looking for The Corporation to give you a place to stay, something to eat, or whatever, you’d better go see the Supervisor. You’re her responsibility. Not ours.”

Creamer blinked. Trying to understand. They’d reached a wider, north-south avenue that transected the town. Now he stopped short, fully aware of the people staring at him as they passed.

“But how am I supposed to get back to Turalon?”

Perez crossed her arms, considered. “Well, that’s easy. Two Spot can call them on the radio. Given you’re Corporate, he’d probably do it for two siddars.”

“What are siddars?”

“Local term for SDRs. Our coinage. We’re a bunch of what you’d call filthy capitalists as well as libertarians. Cash economy.”

“And where do I get siddars?” Creamer had the feeling reality was slipping away from him. Worse, the snot-sucking woman seemed to be enjoying it.

“You could get a job. The Jewel is right there. Yeah, that one on the corner. Wearing full armor, Allison might hire you as a bouncer. Or you could gamble for it. Probably something in your kit that someone would wager you for a bit of plunder. And finally, there’s prospecting. In full armor? Not even Whitey could take you down.”

“Who’s Whitey?” Creamer wondered.

“Local badass quetzal.” She checked her wrist com. “And, unless I miss my guess, your nine marines are a couple of klicks into their sweep. Hope they find the toilet sucker. He’s about as tricky as they come.”

With that, Perez called, “You have a fine rest of your day. Oh, and don’t try the gates after dark. Sure, armored up, and with tech, you could force your way out, but you’d never set foot in PA again.”

He watched her walk away, and even her stride was somehow alien. Almost a floating pace, balanced and powerful. Lions walked like that. What he’d call a supple slink.

“So, here I am,” he told himself. “Turned loose in an insane asylum and surrounded by . . .” Then he chuckled, shook his head. “Idiot.” He reached up, accessing his battle com. “Private Mingo. Respond please.”

“Mingo, sir.”

God, had Creamer ever heard a sweeter voice? “Patch me through to Turalon, Private.”