“Not sure yet.” Cinque studied his thumb before rubbing it against his fingers. “This place isn’t anything like we expected. The prospect of four years here?” He shrugged. “Or do I spend another two years cramped up in Turalon? And then, there’s always the reminder of Dan Wirth. The notion that a piece of gutter scum like him could get so filthy rich? What could a truly talented man accomplish here?”

Allison laughed at that, slapped the table with a flat hand, and stood. “If you’ll excuse me, it’s getting deep in here. I’ve got a poker game to run.” Still laughing, she stood and left the room.

“What was that about?” Cinque asked.

Shig laced his fingers together. “Merely a question of what true talent is. Given the fates of your competitors, you might have some of the same qualities as Dan. But I’d suggest that you find that berth on Turalon. Knowing my fellow Donovanians, Cinque, I think you’d live longer.”

Chapter 79

  79  

Flute limped along, his hide mottled with unsightly bandages. The splotches of white pasted on his wounds made a mockery of the big quetzal’s rippling patterns of camouflage as they rolled down his side. For Kylee—riding on his back—the effect was eerie, threatening. Something about the look of a blooded warrior, a sort of battle-hardened vet. The kind you’d be an idiot to mess with.

The bush terrain here felt too open and alien. If she looked over her shoulder across the trees, she could just see the top of the high fence that surrounded PA. It shone silver in the distance.

Flute made his way slowly through the scrub aquajade and chabacho, stepping widely around the claw shrub and thorncactus. As he went, he’d extend his triangular head, inhaling for scent; his three eyes carefully scanned the bush around them. Under his taloned feet, the ferngrass twisted and writhed.

This wasn’t his or Kylee’s country. Nothing about it was familiar or forgiving. It seemed weird to be under a constantly open expanse. Somehow vulnerable from above. She kept scanning the puffy white clouds and turquoise sky for mobbers. That horror remained too close. Too fresh in her and Flute’s minds. Like Flute, Kylee didn’t dare move too fast for fear of tearing one of the sutures that held her wounds together.

Not that it had bothered Falise when it came to Soukup. After she’d stuck the slug sucker, she’d stared down at the blood where she’d torn the stitches, shrugged, and with two fingers, gingerly pulled the long blade out of the dying IG’s chest.