Walker sighed and got up, his duct tape-patched chair creaking. He split the last of the caff pot between two mugs, added another belt of liquor to each, and handed me one. For a moment we both drank, letting the heat and alcohol warm our bellies. Quarry coffee was probably the last thing I should be drinking right now, considering my doctor’s orders, but hell. Life was short.

Maybe very short, if this went badly.

Walker leaned back, mug propped on his chest. He looked even rougher than I’d thought, his cheeks stubbled and his eyes seeming deeper-set than usual.

“You need some sleep, boss,” I told him.

“Yeah, and you ain’t exactly a Pact Day parade float either. You want to tell me why I got Silas Pitchblende callin’ me, tellin’ me you broke one of his boys’ arms?”

“Probably ‘cause I broke the guy’s arm.” It slipped out before I could stop it. Try as I might I couldn’t summon much regret, to say nothing of sympathy.

Walker’s eyes narrowed. “You want to take this at least a little serious?”

“Trying. Can I blame the concussion?”

“Fuck’s sake, Sharkie-”

“And Lamar’s a malingerer anyway. It was his wrist, not his whole arm.”

“What in the hell’s gotten into you, Sawyer?” He leaned forward, spilling a few drops of caff. “I’m doin’ my best to cut you some slack, here. More’n I’d give most people. You ever think of just takin’ the free drink instead of throwin’ it in my face?”

I slumped lower in my chair, sipping the caff, breathing in its warm scent, trying for a semblance of civility. It wasn’t really Walker I wanted to lash out at, it was the whole situation- and the fact that I was tied up in it.

“Sorry, Walker. I’m sorry,” I amended. Sawada always told me that little contraction was the difference between an apology and a brush-off. “Yeah, I broke his wrist. He drew on me first, though if I’m being honest I wanted him to.”

Walker settled back, the pissed-off look on his face no longer directed at me- at least entirely. “Drew on you? And you without a piece? Silas didn’t mention that part.”

“Yeah, well, maybe Lamar didn’t either. But who cares. Wouldn’t want to keep him from keeping the the lights on,” I mocked, not that Walker’d been there to hear him.

Walker took a long sip of caff and muttered “Fuck’s sake” to himself again. “Just tell me what happened. From the top.”

I matched his sip and obeyed, explaining how I’d seen Lamar ‘negotiating’ with those sad-sack vat workers, then confronted, argued with, and briefly fought him.

“So he did draw first…” mused Walker, swiveling back and forth a little in his chair. “Dumbass.”

“Yeah, but I guess I can’t blame him.” I sighed, trying not to cough. “I wanted him to try something. If I had me huffing and puffing in my face, I’d probably go for my gun too. That’s not what had me pissed anyway.”

Walker didn’t seem to hear me. “Way I see it, you let ‘im off easy, or at least I can make it sound that way…yeah, unless Silas wants to be a real fucker he won’t escalate this. I might owe ‘im a favor, but hell, add it to the pile.”

Well, that was good- for me, at least. “Yeah, but what about Lamar? He was out of line, right? I mean before he drew.”

He shrugged. “Not how I woulda done it, but then it’s been a minute since I had to strongarm anyone. And I sure wouldn’tve thrown your name around. But as they say, that ain’t our department. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“No, that’s not-“ I was taken aback. He thought I was critiquing Lamar’s performance. “He shouldn’t have been treating them like that. I mean, he wasn’t gonna get any money out of them, and it wasn’t even their fault!”

Walker gave me a pitying look. I knew I sounded stupid- who the hell did get what they deserved?- but I still found myself getting pissed again. “Just- if he’s got to make an example out of someone- which’ll just make less people borrow deng off us anyway- at least kill someone who’s actually responsible!”

“Like I said, Sharkie, it ain’t our problem.” His rough fingers rubbed together, like he was rolling an imaginary cigarette. “I- we- don’t have to deal with that day-to-day shit ‘cause of people like Silas and Lamar. They stay out of our cut, we stay out of theirs.”

I pressed on my closed eyelids, feeling a headache starting. I knew he was right. And why the sudden attack of conscience over a couple of strangers getting killed? I did worse things on a daily basis. It might have been the…I wasn’t sure how to put it. The banality, the bureaucracy of it. Everyone shrugging, saying it couldn’t be helped when it obviously could.

“Can’t you call Silas, Walker? I don’t know, ask him to leave those two alone for a while, give ‘em some time?”

“What’d I just say, Sharkie? I pushed far enough just bailin’ you out.” Now Walker started to sound annoyed. “Do I just ring ‘im up again, say ‘Hey there, Khevo, my shooter took a likin’ to a couple of your marks, you want to just let ‘em off for her?’ Ain’t no way.”

My scowl deepened the longer he went on. “You said I’d get a hazard bonus, right? Fucking take it out of that. Pay whatever their deadbeat dad owes.” I knew that was stupid even as I was saying it, but I didn’t care.

Walker talked with his eyes closed. “We ain’t a fuckin’ charity, you know that? You gonna square up for every tile fiend who ever cadged a chit off us? And you don’t know these poor fuckers. Not everyone’s a smart, kind young lady like you.” His tone was only half-mocking, and somehow that pissed me off worse than if he’d just insulted me.

But he kept going. “For all you know they’ll take that second chance and blow it all on cards and hush, be worse off than they are now.”

“Hush that we sell,” I shot back.

“Dead kings, Sharkie,” Walker snapped. He suddenly leaned forwards, hands on his desk, real anger in his narrowed eyes. “You knew who you were signin’ up with, hon. You got the fuckin’ tattoos. I made a deal with you- a generous deal, you ask me- to keep out of certain parts of the business, and I’ve done my level Rik-damn best to hold to it. You unhappy?”

I met his eyes, the chair creaking as I squeezed the arms. “Who isn’t?”

“Oh, cut the fuckin’ melodrama, Sawyer.” He leaned further across the desk, looking disgusted. “This ain’t a holo. Can’t everyone be a winner. Ain’t fair, but what the fuck is?”

We stared each other down for a few seconds. What really rankled me wasn’t even what he said, but the implication. An acceptance of the system. That no matter how we cheated at the game, we still played it on Admin’s board. The worst part was that even as I saw it in Walker, I realized it was in me too- and I couldn’t think of how to prove it wrong.

Finally I just stood up, turned, and went to the door. Walker wisely let me go without a parting shot. Was I being a coward, not getting the last word in? I was too tired to think of something to say, and whatever I did come up with would probably make things worse.

“Sharkie,” said Walker. I almost ignored him, but stopped at the door. “Look, I- dammit, I don’t want to leave things like this. I got a bad habit of bitin’ people’s heads off who don’t deserve it. I’m makin’ excuses, but I am sorry.”

I thought I heard heard some genuine contrition there, enough that I turned around. “You, Walker? Snapping at people?” I said quietly. “Never.”

“Yeah, I know,” he mumbled. “Why you think I don’t get invited to meetings? But listen. I’ll call up Khevo again, try and get that debt cleared. You serious about takin’ it out of your pay?”Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

After a moment, I nodded. It was a useless gesture, probably, treating a symptom and not a disease. But since when did I of all people get to take the moral high ground? It wouldn’t be useless to those broken-down vat scrubbers.

“Thanks,” I said after another pause. I knew he was just throwing me scraps to try and get me to simmer down. It was working, at least a little.

Walker waved it away like it was already forgotten. “Sharkie, I- There’s parts of this job I don’t like. Some parts ain’t nobody like. But we need ‘em to keep the mess running. Somebody’s got to clean the shitters, pick the cigs up off the floor. And sometimes, yeah, our people step out of line. No excuse for that. You think I’m happy when I see people younger’n you on the street, zoned out on hush?”

“Not much of a salesman, are you.”

He went on like I hadn’t spoken. “But we can make some changes, Sharkie, if we win this war on our terms. This is an opportunity we ain’t gonna see again. And listen to me. I don’t mean ‘our terms,’ maybe.” He spread his arms and looked around, like at a crowd of imaginary Holy Bones. Then he swiveled a thumb between the two of us. “I mean our terms.”

I was trying to stay mad, but he had me intrigued. I’d been warned a few times about Walker keeping things close to the vest, having some divergent ideas. Now it sounded like I’d find out why.

“What do you mean, Walker?”

“I mean…” He stood suddenly, leaning on his desk, posture full of nervous energy. “I mean the Bones ain’t run like Blue Division. Didn’t even start the same way. Ol’ Commander Canra used to carry iron for the Spiders, but when things started getting sketchy she started putting her own crew together under their noses. People that trusted her, answered to her. And it went down the line from there. Chain of command, y’know. Your boss says ‘jump,’ you ask who and when.

“The Bones, though…we’re older, dependin’ on how you count it. There were always crews in the quarries. Small-timers, mostly- but when Admin pressed too hard they’d bunch together, put up a front. Take that pressure away, though, they’d split right back up. Until a while back- well before I was born, and yeah, that was a long damn while, whippersnapper- Boss Nashir decided not to. First he got all the crews in Fehu pit together. Then the pits alongside. Then more pits, and the longwall clans, and the teamsters, and on and on until you got the Holy Bones and Admin’s on their toes. But quarry folks, we ain’t exactly meek and mild.”

I scoffed.

“So Nashir didn’t run things like Canra would. Wasn’t a chain of command, more like a fuckin’ razorwire tangle of handshakes and deals and back-scratches and on and on. Point of the history lesson is: we look like a unit on the outside. Have to. But inside? You better believe there ain’t two people in this fuckin’ gang that don’t have somethin’ to argue about. And that goes triple for Runes.”

“So…” I leaned against the doorframe, rubbing my temples. “You don’t just want to win. You’re not trying to beat Blue Division, you’re trying to beat them and these other…factions, I guess, inside the Bones?” I had to try not to look around for spy bugs, though maybe my eye would actually pick them up.

Walker grimaced. “The priority ain’t so even as that, but I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

This made a lot of things start to line up. “Is this why you keep giving me all these ‘important missions’ even though I’m new? Just a cretefoot prospect? And I keep going in alone, or almost? ‘Cause you don’t want anyone catching on to you?”

“…Yeah,” he sighed. I’d expected it and I still wasn’t sure how to feel about it. “I trust you, Sharkie. Not sure why, but I do. Not the kind of instinct you want to listen to, mostly- but you ain’t chopped me up yet. Right?”

“…No,” I said after an appropriate pause. Part of me believed him, part of me wanted to, and the rest was sure he was trying to soothe my ego. This was the good-cop part of the routine after he chewed me out.

“Yeah, that’s part of why. Part of it is that I don’t work with big crews, anyway- my branch of things is s’posed to be lockpick and needlegun, not a bottle of synthol through the window. And part is, well, I sometimes leave some…details out when talkin’ things over with the other Runes. Maybe sometimes I trust a cretefoot prospect more’n I do my own people.”

“Kings, Walker.” It didn’t take an anthropologist to know that Walker was playing a dangerous game. “What’s the upshot here, though? What are you trying to do?”

He sat back down with a creak, silent for several seconds like he was thinking about it. “Some of my esteemed colleagues just want to keep things the way they are,” he finally said. “The Blues’n us staring daggers at each other but not really usin’ em. Some of ‘em are like Yera- they want to take the Blues out completely, for that Admin would stomp us down or infiltrate us or just drop tac warheads on every third pit and tell us to get back to work if we tried.”

“And you?”

Walker’s voice got quieter. “I want to thread the needle. We gut the Blues, Sharkie. Knock ‘em out of our territory. Keep that faction war goin’. Cut ‘em off uptown. Clip Canra if the rogues don’t do it for us- cause she ain’t gonna back down, the bitter old fox. Knife ‘em in the back until they’re tame, until we can offer some very favorable terms- if you’re moppin’ up what I’m spillin’.”

“Controlled opposition,” I breathed.

“Well, maybe not controlled. Don’t want Admin getting too many ideas- some days I can’t believe they don’t just nuke us and send in the ‘bots. Let’s call it…friendly. A nice, friendly Blue Division. Easy to work with. And with the opportunities that’ll give us, well, maybe we can make some changes in-house too. Less toilet-scrubbin,’ if you like.”

I couldn’t tell if he was serious about that last part or adding it for my benefit. There was something else, too. “And what about Boss Moses? You told me he’s only halfway in charge, but-“

“I don’t know about him. Don’t know what he’s plannin’- and I don’t know if he does, either. ‘Sides, him and Yera go way back.”

Walker and Yera had some baggage, I remembered. Something more than differences in strategy. “And you really trust me with this?”

“Who you gonna tell? Who’s gonna believe you? Who’s gonna give you anything but a pat on the back for it? And who’s gonna stop me from takin’ you down with me? You ain’t bulletproof on the outside, Sawyer, and even the strong got to sleep. Besides, who d’you think signs your checks?” He grinned, suddenly looking years younger. Daring me to try turning rat, but joking with me all at once.

“I’m not going to snitch, Walker.” In my present mood, the Bones as a whole weren’t much to me.

He nodded. “That’s a relief. I know this ain’t necessarily what you signed up for, Sharkie. There’s gang wars, and then there’s gang wars. If I had to guess…it’ll get worse afore it gets better. And as far as I’m concerned, your debt to me is paid. I won’t say shit if you walk away.”

I made a quiet ‘oh’ of surprise. Sometimes I forgot how I’d gotten into this job in the first place. “I…”

“Sleep on it. I’m not gonna force a poor concussed little lady into life-alterin’ decisions on the spot.”

I blinked slowly. “Does that mean I can go home now?”

“Oh, go to hell. Or go home. Just get the fuck outta my office.” He waved me off all mock-angry and I finally staggered out his door.

After clomping down the stairs I leaned against the wall to catch my breath. I didn’t see Dezi, but Rouenn sat at an empty desk with a tin mug full of something dark red in front of her. She twitched a little when she saw me, and I wondered if she’d been listening.

“A drink before you go, Sharkie? A healthy one, I mean- I’m sure he tried to fill you with caff and liquor up there.”

I smiled despite myself. “You’re not wrong. Yeah, I’ll have some.”

She filled a second mug from a clear plastic bottle- reused from something else, based on the duct-tape and marker label. I smelled it first. It was nothing I’d ever had before, looking almost like red wine from a holo. The smell was fruity and tart, though. I tried it and found the taste even better, cold and fresh.

“Mm! What is this?” I asked Rouenn.

“It’s cranberry juice. There’s a family that sells it a few blocks down. They’ve got a concrete basin all strung up with grow lights and full of water- cranberries grow best in a swamp, sort of.” She leaned in, like she wanted to tell me a secret. “They told me it used to be a swimming pool, but I think it was actually a coolant pond.”

I glanced at her over the rim of the mug.

“Well, I’ve been drinking it for years, and I haven’t started glowing,” Rouenn said before a pointed sip.

“…I guess I believe you.” I squinted at her like I was trying to spot the radiation before drinking some more. She just smirked. We sat in silence for a bit, finishing our juice.

“Are you going to be alright?” Rouenn suddenly asked, catching me off guard.

“Doc Laggard gave me some meds and told me to get some rest. I ought to be fine as long as I stick to that.” I wasn’t sure if she’d meant it that way.

“I’m glad to hear that. I’d miss having you come around- to say nothing of Dezi.”

“Where is she?” I asked to distract myself. I felt kind of emotional- it was the concussion, definitely the concussion- and there was no need for Rouenn to say something so nice.

“She went to get some lunch. I don’t mind sharing, though I’m sure she’ll understand if you want to go home and rest.”

“I ate, but thanks.” I drummed my fingers on my cup. Rouenn was smart and kind, and she seemed to have her shit together. I was being a bit of a coward, trying not to think too hard about my talk with Walker, but maybe…

“Why’d you join the Holy Bones, Rouenn?” My mouth moved faster than my brain, and I immediately felt embarrassed. “Or- sorry, you don’t have to answer that, I didn’t mean to…”

The older woman sat there looking pensive while I lamely trailed off. “I had…medical issues when I was younger, serious ones,” she said after a few moments. “I couldn’t access treatment on my own, let alone afford it- not without the Bones. We worked out a deal- they helped me get what I needed, and I agreed to work for them until my debt was paid. By the time I was done, well…I decided to stay. I enjoy the work, the money is good and I believe that, overall, the Bones are a force for- for stability, at least, if not outright good.”

I took that in, nodding. But she wasn’t finished. “Of course, if timing or circumstances had been different, I could as easily have ended up with Blue Division, or someone else with the money and means. I think about that sometimes.”

She was looking at me, now. “And there are other times when I wonder if I’ve been selfish. I was suffering, certainly, and took a chance to improve my situation- but at what cost to others? Should I have given up and accepted my lot, or was it within my rights to seek something better? Have I done more good than bad? I don’t know. We can’t change the past, though, and what I do know is that I’ve got very few regrets about mine. Is any of that useful to you?”

I’d been listening raptly, so that last part made me blink. Of course she’d known why I asked. “I think so,” I said, nodding slowly.

“Sleep on it. Things will make more sense in the morning. Or whenever you wake up, I mean.” She glanced at the clock- it wasn’t even one in the afternoon.

That was two people who told me that, now. I set my cup down and stood. “I won’t have any trouble passing out that long, don’t worry. Thanks, Rouenn. Seriously.”

“It was just some juice,” she said with a small smile.

“Yeah, right. I’ll come by tomorrow to deal with…them, if that’s okay.” I waved a hand around at where Arc and Alvar slept.

She raised an eyebrow. “‘Them,’ is it? And that’s fine. Enjoy your rest, Sharkie.”

I just stopped myself from saying ‘You too’ as I waved and walked the few blocks home.