“You a long way from home, girl.” He grinned, revealing a row of gold teeth.

She thumbed the panel on the side of the weapon. The tip glowed orange. Vibrations tingled her arm.

The cabbie displayed his empty hands. The sleeves of his neon blue shirt were decorated with tropical plants. “That how you treat a guy who offers you a ride?”

“It’s how I treat everybody.”

He pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose, then picked at the corner of his mouth. “Okay, then. Good luck.”

Mistletoe thought quickly. This might be her best chance. “Wait.” She moved her thumb away from the panel and disarmed the weapon.

He cocked his head politely.

“I just need directions. I don’t have any money to pay for a ride.”

He shifted in his seat, dislodging his glasses. “Where you tryin’ to get?”

“ESC University.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “That’s pretty far.”

“How long will it take me?”

“On foot? Two days.”

Mistletoe’s arms and legs were already sore from the climb up the access shaft. And she couldn’t waste two whole days wandering the streets. She unclenched her fist and the disruptor slid out of sight.

“I have this,” she said, reaching behind her neck to undo the clasp of her necklace. She held it up for him to see. The three silver gears spun in the air. She thought of Sliv standing among the putrid garbage at the bottom of the ladder.

The cabbie flashed his gold teeth. “That should cover the fare.”

She hesitated. “If you try anything, I’ll kill you. I won’t even think about it first.”

He nodded gravely. “Understood.”

The back door swung open. Mistletoe slid into the leopard-spotted back seat. It smelled overly sweet, too much cheap air freshener. She pulled the door shut. The cabbie turned and extended his hand.

“Panda skin?”

He offered her a black-and-white-striped wafer that smelled like an onion. Mistletoe shrank back against the seat. She was starving, but the panda skin made her stomach turn.

“Can we just go?”

The cabdriver palmed a panel on his dashboard. The lifts engaged harder than Mistletoe thought possible for such an old car. They shot up over the ground-level traffic flow and skimmed along the top. The driver flipped the smelly wafer into his mouth and chewed with loud, happy smacks. Mistletoe wondered if she’d made a huge mistake by getting in this cab. Then she looked out the small window above her head and forgot everything except the new world outside.

The sky was as black as the access shaft. In Little Saigon, it was always a weak and sickly shade of day, depending on the quality of the lights hanging from the canopy. She had never lived in a place governed by the actual laws of dawn and dusk.