So… this was Haven-7? Looked like a real shithole to me.

  I wiped the very first drop of sweat from my brow. Looking down at myself, I noted with displeasure that I was indeed almost entirely nude. The papery suit had burned away, leaving only a few dark wisps that still clung to my body hair.

  That might have been the whole point of it. If I hadn’t worn anything, Dr. Renn might have singed off every shred of fur on my carcass. Cheap bastards.

  I started walking, my feet kicking up clouds of dust with each step. The air was dry, but it was easy to breathe. I followed a narrow path that wound through the hills, and the rocks got bigger. They soon cast long shadows in the fading light.

  I didn’t care for the silence. It was broken only by the crunch of my footsteps and the occasional gust of wind. After a while, I came to a stream. The water was clear and cool, a welcome relief from the oppressive heat. I knelt down and splashed some on my face, savoring the feeling of it against my skin.

  Looking around, I hoped to see something I could use as clothing. Anything would have been nice—but there wasn’t any sign of human habitation. Even the plants let me down. Instead of leaves they all looked like bundles of spines. Seeing some trees downstream, I decided to follow the waterway, hoping it would lead me to some sort of civilization or at least a place to rest for the night.

  I hadn’t gone a mile when I heard the distinctive crack of a thunderbolt rifle. A lot of colonists used such weapons for hunting. They were railguns, essentially. They fired one powerful slug the size of a pebble accelerated to very high muzzle velocities. Colonists liked them because they could fire anything—even a small rock. That way, you didn’t even have to have the engineering capacity to make bullets.

  Additionally, no one ever ran out of rocks. Not even on the worst colony worlds.

  The round struck a boulder nearby. There was a puff of grit and dust along with a sound like a hammer hitting stone.

  I hit the dirt and scrambled behind the boulder, pressing my back against the rough stone.

  Shit... Someone was already taking potshots at me? I’d been here less than five minutes…

  I peeked out from behind the boulder, scanning the surrounding hills for any sign of movement. Nothing. Whoever had fired that shot wasn’t showing themselves.

  Trading one rock for another, I circled around, keeping low to the ground.

  That’s when I saw her. A girl, riding on some kind of two-legged mechanical walker. She was coming to investigate the results of her shot, eyes sharp and alert.

  I watched her from my hiding spot, taking in every detail. She was young, maybe early twenties, with tanned skin and a lean, athletic build. Her dark hair was pulled back in a tight braid, exposing the graceful curve of her neck. She moved with a fluid grace, her body perfectly in sync with the walker’s movements. It was clear she was no city girl.

  She was also a serious bitch. Obviously, she’d been born and bred on this craptastic planet, so when she saw a naked stranger on her property, she took a potshot at him.

  Damn… I smiled. She was kind of hot, in a cowgirl sort of way.

  I flanked her, creeping closer, keeping low to the ground. Spines and shit stabbed my hands and knees, but I barely winced. The girl was still scanning the hills, her rifle at the ready. She had no idea I was behind her at this point.

  It was time to introduce myself.

  I lunged forward, grabbing her from behind. She let out a startled yelp. I wrenched the rifle from her hands and tossed it aside. She struggled against my grip and almost got free, but I held her tight. She was a little thing but a force to be reckoned with.

  “Easy there, Miss,” I growled in her ear. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

  She stopped struggling, but I could feel her rough breathing. Her body was still tense, but, I loosened my grip slightly, keeping my hands on her.

  “Why the hell were you shooting at me?” I demanded.

  She craned around to face me, her eyes blazing with anger. “You’re an obvious bandit,” she spat, a straight lock of hair hung in front of one eye. “Or maybe just a crazy drifter. Either way, you don’t belong here.”

  It was a reasonable opinion, but I still felt like she was overreacting. “Do I look like a bandit to you, Miss?”

  She looked me up and down, taking in my disheveled appearance. “You look like a naked lunatic—but you sure as hell don’t look like a settler. And you’re definitely not Techborn.”

  “Techborn?”

  She gave me a really weird look, and I knew I was blowing it. Techborn… right, Brandt had said something about those assholes. They were the tyrants that ran this rock.

  “Look, I’m not here to cause trouble,” I said. I let her go and held up my hands in a placating gesture. “I was robbed, and I’m lost.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me, obviously not convinced. “Nobody just wanders out of the bush on Haven-7. Especially not naked, alone or unarmed—just pick any of those.”

  I glanced at the rifle lying in the dirt a few feet away. “Are you accustomed to murdering every stranger you see? You could’ve killed me with that thunderbolt of yours.”

  She followed my gaze and took a step towards the weapon, but I stepped in front of her, blocking her path.

  “Look, Mister, if I’d wanted you dead, you’d be dead. That was a warning shot.”

  Thinking that over, I believed her. She’d had the drop on me, and I hadn’t been a hard target. I’d have to play the game like a paranoid escaped prisoner on this planet.

  She glared at me, her jaw clenched tight. I could tell she was weighing her options, trying to decide if she could take me in a fight. I hoped she didn’t get herself hurt trying.

  I kept my eyes locked on hers, not daring to blink. She was sizing me up, trying to decide if she could take me down. That wasn’t going to happen, but I was impressed she’d even consider it.

  “The name’s Tanner,” I said. “Dane Tanner. And you are?”

  She hesitated for a moment, then replied, “Megan Quinn.”

  I gave her my best encouraging smile. It wasn’t returned. “Well, Megan Quinn, it seems we got off on the wrong foot. How about we start over?”

  She raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. “Start over? You attacked me and stole my rifle.”

  “Yeah, so? You shot at me first. I was just defending myself. How about we start fresh a third time?”

  She scoffed, rolling her eyes. “This is my land. Besides, sneaking up on someone and grabbing them from behind isn’t self-defense.”

  This line of crap made me crack a smile. I couldn’t help it. The girl had an attitude, and I liked it.

  Her eyes traveled down my body. It seemed like she’d just noticed something important. “Uh, Tanner? I appreciate you trying to be all civilized, but you know you’re buck-naked… right?”

  She was right, of course. I was standing with my dick out in the breeze.

  “I told you…” I said. “Bandits.”

  “Right… Can I go to my walker now? Or am I your prisoner?”

  I considered for a few seconds, then gestured for her to walk ahead of me. I had my buzzblade—and pretty much nothing else. It was more than enough if she tried to pull another weapon out of her saddle.

  Megan reached for a saddle blanket draped over her walker and tossed it to me. “Here, wrap yourself up in this. I’ve seen enough.”

  I caught the blanket and quickly wrapped it around my waist. At least my dick was under something now. It was a start. I picked up the thunderbolt, and she eyed that unhappily.

  “Since we’re friends now, can I have my gun back?” she asked.

  I hesitated. Her tone indicated she was humoring a freak, or maybe a lost retard. I kind of liked having a real gun in my hands, but I also didn’t want to piss her off any more than I already had. So far, she was the only person on Haven-7 I’d come into contact with.

  “Tell you what,” I said. “You help me find some clothes and a place to crash for the night, and I’ll give you your rifle back. Deal?”

  Megan considered my offer for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. “Fine. But don’t try anything funny, Tanner. I’m watching you.”

  I grinned, my eyes twinkling with mischief. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Miss Quinn.”

  She climbed up on her walker and led the way. She didn’t gallop off and leave me, either. Maybe she wasn’t the cast iron bitch I’d been suspecting.

  We headed downstream, following the winding path of the water. Megan rode her walker while I hoofed it alongside her. The sun beat down on us, relentless and unforgiving.

  “So, what’s the deal with this… uh… county?” I asked, trying to make conversation.

  “What’s a county? This is Fishjumper Lake.”

  “Okay… a town, then? What’s it like?”

  She looked at me like I was crazy. I guess I should have memorized the entire briefing—but I’d never been given to over-focusing on the details. This colony was small, and probably every adult on this planet knew every town by heart.

  Still looking at me strangely, Megan explained. “It’s a small settlement. Mostly farmers and fishermen. We keep to ourselves, here.”

  I tried to be impressed. “Sounds nice.”

  She glared at me, taking instant insult. “You must be an escaped servant of the Techborn, but how could an ex-slave sneer at honest Dusters?”

  “Uh…”

  She kept going, turning her speech into a rant. “We lead a hard life, sure, but it’s honest. Not like the Techborn, and their fancy gadgets. You’re not even a real Techborn. Stop acting like you’re superior to anyone.”

  Techborn again? Every planet had assholes, I guess. I wondered what their deal was.

  “You know a guy named Preacher Silas?” I asked, trying to get her off topic and sound casual.

  Megan stiffened, her hands tightening on the reins of her walker. “I’ve heard of him. But I haven’t seen him around, lately.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “No confession for you, huh?”

  She shot me a look. “I don’t need to confess anything to anyone. Especially not some stranger who shows up naked and steals my rifle.”

  Touché, I thought. I was really starting to like Megan Quinn.

  We walked in silence for a while, so the only sounds were the crunching of our footsteps and the buzzing and creaking of Megan’s walker. Finally, we reached the outskirts of Fishjumper Lake.

  It was a small, ramshackle settlement. A cluster of two dozen buildings hugging a central square. As we walked down the main street, I noticed people starting to disappear. Doors slammed shut, windows were hastily covered.

  What the hell? My bullshit-detector was ringing loudly.

  It soon turned out my instincts were spot-on. I heard the click of a bolt being pulled back and cocked behind me. I froze, my face showing irritation. These colonists were sneaky.

  “Don’t move,” a gruff voice ordered.

  I slowly raised my hands, cursing myself for letting my guard down. I turned around, coming face to face with a man in leather with a wide-brimmed hat.

  He also had a shredder in his hand. That was a short-barreled submachine gun. Big slugs, low velocity. They were built for use on spaceships, as they didn’t have the punch to knock a hole in the metal hull of a starship. They could do a number on the human body, however—especially at short range.

  “Tanner? Meet our town’s Lawman. Eli Morrow,” Megan said. She sounded triumphant.

  Lawman? Every planet had cops—and robbers. I guess that was part of the human condition. If you put a hundred of us on an island, you’d soon have both types. It was only a matter of sorting people out by their natures.

  “Drop the rifle,” Morrow ordered, his grey eyes fixed on me.

  I hesitated for a moment, weighing my options, but I knew I was outgunned and outmaneuvered. I let Megan’s rifle fall to the ground, raising my hands in surrender.

  “All right, boss,” I said. “Don’t panic. You got me.”

  Megan moved quick, snatching up her thunderbolt rifle before I could react. She gave me a smirk. I figured she was still butthurt about having been grabbed from behind.

  “Thanks for carrying my rifle, Tanner. You’re a real gentleman.”

  I realized I’d been played. This little minx had set me up from the start. She’d led me right to where she knew I’d be caught and arrested.

  Megan then proceeded to dump on my reputation. I was a naked bandit from the bush. Naturally, as she was the local, I wasn’t believed.

  Morrow spun a finger, and I turned around. He jabbed his shredder into my back, right between my shoulder blades. The message was clear: no funny business.

  “Move,” he growled.

  I didn’t have much choice. Morrow marched me down the dusty street at gunpoint. The few people still out and about scattered like roaches when the lights came on. Nobody wanted to get involved.

  We reached the jailhouse. It was a squat, ugly building that looked even worse than most of the others. Morrow showed me a cage inside. The bars were rusted and the floor was covered in filth. The place smelled like sweat, piss, and despair.

  “Get in there,” Morrow ordered.

  I hesitated, eyeing the pathetic excuse for a cell. This was no way to treat a guest. I considered pulling a move on him—that might lead to a quick death, but that could be better than a slow one behind bars.

  The lawman jammed the shredder into my back again, harder this time. I stumbled forward, into the cage. The door slammed shut behind me with a clang that sounded like the end of the world.

  I turned around, gripping the bars. Morrow stood there eyeing me with curiosity.

  “Welcome to Fishjumper Lake, Tanner. Enjoy your stay.”

  He turned and walked away, leaving me alone in my little slice of hell. I slumped against the bars. How the hell was I going to get out of this one? I had no weapons, no allies, and no clue what I was up against.

  Megan and Morrow had the upper hand, and they were all full of themselves right now, but one thing was for sure: I couldn’t get my job done standing in this piss-stained cage. I took my role as an XCU field officer seriously, so as I saw it, there was only one option. Find a way to come out on top.

  The lawman was playing with my buzzblade, twirling it in his fingers like a damn baton.

  “Can’t have you wrecking the cage with this, now can we?” he said, a smug grin on his face.

  I bit back a retort. This guy was really starting to piss me off.

  “So, what’s the deal with Megan Quinn?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “Does she always shoot first and ask questions later?”

  Eli shrugged, leaning against the wall. “Megan’s a tough one. She’s been through a lot. She isn’t the… trusting type.”

  I filed that information away for later. “And the Preacher? Silas? You know where I can find him?”

  Eli’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening on the buzzblade. “Why are you asking about the Preacher? You’re some kind of Techborn spy, aren’t you?”

  I scoffed, shaking my head. “Do I look like a damn Techborn to you?”

  Eli looked me up and down, taking in my naked, filthy appearance. “You sure as hell don’t look like a settler. And you’re not from around here, that’s for damn sure.”

  I stayed silent, not wanting to reveal too much. I didn’t even know if these people were aware of XCU. I sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to tell them.

  Eli sighed, tossing a bundle of clothes through the bars. “Here, put these on. Can’t have you walking around here bare-ass naked.”

  I caught the clothes, examining them skeptically. They were old and worn, but they were better than nothing.

  As I pulled on the pants and shirt, Eli watched me closely. “I don’t know what your game is, Tanner. But I’ll figure it out.”

  Happy to have a real shirt—dirty or not—I buttoned it up immediately. “Duly noted, boss.”

  Eli turned to leave, but he paused at the door. “Tanner? There’s word we might have a visitation tonight.”

  “Techborn?”

  “That’s right. If that goes well, and you don’t turn out to be a spy for them, I might let you out of that cage.”

  “That would be appreciated, sir.”

  With that, he was gone, leaving me alone in the cell.

  A visitation? That sounded weird. What did the Techborn want with a shitty fishing village on the edge of nowhere? Local politics… the worst kind.

  I rattled my cage, testing every weld. Maybe, with time…

  But no. I wasn’t going to try to escape—it might not even be necessary. For now, all I could do was wait and hope.

  I leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes. Here I was on a chaotic world with everything already going to pieces, and I’d barely even gotten started.

  Chapter 8

  Hours later, darkness fell. I was fed a mashed paste of—you guessed it—fish.

  Trying to make friends, I talked to Eli, who turned out to be my chef, companion and captor all rolled into one. You had to wear a lot of hats in a rat box town like Fishjumper Lake.

  The lawman held up a hand, cutting me off mid-sentence. He cocked his head, listening intently. Something had caught his attention outside.

  “What…?” I began.

  He put a finger to his lips, signaling for me to keep quiet. I shut my mouth, watching as he crept towards the door. He rested a weathered hand on his holstered shredder.

  He slipped outside, leaving me alone in the cage. I strained my ears, trying to hear what had spooked him. But there was only silence.

  I paced the small cell, my mind racing. What the hell was going on out there? Had the Techborn arrived? Or was it something else?

  Suddenly, the silence was shattered by distant shouts and the unmistakable sound of gunfire. I gripped the bars, my teeth showing. Something was going down. And I was stuck in this damn cage, helpless.

  The door burst open, and Megan came running in, her face flushed and her eyes wild. She grabbed a rifle off the wall and flipped it on with confident hands.

  “What the hell is happening?” I demanded.