Page 256 of Reaper Said Mine

“I’m security without being official security. My job is to make sure nobody grabs you before Ceres.”

“After Ceres?”

“After Ceres, my job gets worse.”

“At least you’re honest.”

“Lies waste time.”

That, more than the token, makes me like her a fraction.

The transport lifts.

New Boston drops away beneath sheets of rain and reflected light. For a moment Earth fills the viewport beyond the aisle, blue and white and impossible, the kind of beautiful that makes every war seem like proof that intelligent life is a clerical error.

I turn from the window before sentimentality can make me stupid.

My compad vibrates with an encrypted notification from Bellamy.

Tracking chatter just spiked around your route. Someone queried Ceres humanitarian slots using three different shell credentials. Rana is ours-ish. Trust her halfway. Eat something. Your face looked like death with cheekbones.

I show Rana the line about her.

She reads it and nods. “Halfway is generous.”

“Who queried the slots?”

“Could be Combine. Could be Alliance. Could be Coalition trying to make sure you arrive where they can manage you.”

“Could be Dawson having an aneurysm.”

“Does Dawson have shell credentials?”

“No, but spite gives him range.”

Rana huffs a laugh and leans back. “Your route is already dirty.”

I look toward the sealed hatch. “How dirty?”

“Tracked, probably. Compromised, possibly. Doomed, not yet.”

“You should write travel brochures.”

“I was told you liked honesty.”

“I tolerate it.”

She studies me. “You still want to continue?”

“Yes.”

“That was fast.”

“I’ve had practice making bad decisions under pressure.”

“Going back for him?”

I meet her eyes. “Going back for the truth.”