underfoot, but it’s just some reddish dirt. And that’s when I realise gravity here must be weaker than I’m used to. I take a cautious breath and taste the air. Tingly. Rich. Painfully fresh after the scrubbed and processed stuff we’ve been sucking in. A host of weird smells shove their way up my nose, none of which I could put a name to. But the most amazing thing has to be Shanglo’s sky, creepy tendrils of green reaching across a blue so deep it’s on its way to purple.
Cam crumbles some of the red soil between his fingers.
‘See this? Even the dirt looks different.’
Murdo claps his hands to get our attention. He tells me and Cam and Ravi to come with him to check out the remains of the compound. The rest are to stick close to the ship and keep a lookout. Sky’s up in the freighter’s nose turret, covering us. As we head off, I wave at her.
Do I get a wave back? Nah. Just a shake of her head.
Murdo asks if I have my blaster.
I pull it out and check it. ‘Expecting trouble?’
‘It has a habit of following me around.’
The scorched wall of the compound tells its own tale of trouble. It’s obvious that no ordinary fire tumbled these massive stones. They’ve been smashed down.
‘Somebody fired heavy-duty weapons at this,’ I say.
Murdo says nothing, but the grim look on his face tells me I’m not wrong. All three of us scramble inside through one of the torn gaps. The compound must’ve been a sight to see once, with dozens of warehouses and storage silos. Now it’s a tangle of twisted metal and charred wood.
Moving cautiously, we pick our way deeper inside.
The scars of a vicious fight are everywhere. Ragged blaster splashes. Neater holes punched by pulse-rifle shots. But rust has taken big bites too, and when I accidentally step on some wood it gives way, rotten all through.
I straighten up and let out the breath I’ve been holding.
‘Whatever happened, it was years ago.’
Murdo grunts. ‘Looks like it.’
‘Who d’you suppose did this?’ Cam asks.
‘How should I know? Cobb dealt with mean people. Maybe he crossed one of them. Only . . . he was no pushover. Not just anyone could come here and make this mess.’
Clearly gutted that we won’t be flogging our darkblende, he kicks out at some of the burnt wood.
‘Could ComSec have shut him down?’ I ask.
According to Murdo, Combine Security forces are the only law that reaches out this far from the Core worlds. He’s been telling us stories about his run-ins with them.
But he shakes his head. ‘Nah. That lot would take care of Cobb from orbit. There’d be nothing but a crater here.’
‘Shush!’ Ravi hisses. ‘Hear that?’
We all shut up and listen.
After a while, a clang of metal on metal comes from ahead of us, where warped and rusty girders stick up from the remains of what must once have been a warehouse.
‘Now would be a good time to leave,’ I say.
Murdo ignores me. Next thing he’s jogging towards the sound. Cam and Ravi sneer at me before following him. I curse, and hustle to catch up. One of the stone-arched entrances is still mostly standing, and somebody’s cleared a path through the rubble under it. Murdo swings wide, approaching it from the left side so he won’t be seen from within. He waits there until we’re all crouched beside him before sneaking a quick peek in.
Whatever he sees, he grunts and relaxes.
And then, before any of us can stop him, he’s striding through the archway, showing off his empty hands.
‘Hey there,’ he calls. ‘Can we have a word?’
Me and the other two lads swap uncertain looks, before leaping up to chase after him. We don’t get far though, because Murdo comes tearing out again . . .
Snapping at his heels is the weirdest creature I’ve ever seen. Way bigger than a bull fourhorn, its hide is mottled orange and six massively powerful legs drive it forward. At the end of a stupidly long neck, the thing’s head is no bigger than my fist. Lucky for Murdo, it’s being slowed down by hauling a long flatbed wagon. Perched on this, whipping the creature along, is a white-haired old man.
‘Hi-yah!’ he bellows, spit flying.
Murdo flings himself aside and rolls out of the way. Ravi scrambles left and clear, Cam and me dive right.
Creature and wagon thunder past us.
‘Don’t let him get away!’ Murdo yells, scrambling up.
How we’re to do this I don’t know. But now one of the wagon’s wheels clips a heap of debris it’s swerving round. Top-heavy and carrying too much speed it tips over and crashes on to its side, spilling a load of scavenged steel. Red dust boils up. Blaster in hand, I run towards it. At the front the unhappy creature is jammed between the pulling poles, snapping and making all sorts of hideous noises.
I’m sure scavver guy must have broken his old neck. But what do I know? He comes hobbling out of the dust.
‘Look whatcha done!’ he wails angrily.
Murdo curses and makes a show of knocking dirt off himself. ‘It’s your fraggin’ fault, you old fool. If you hadn’t tried to run us down, it wouldn’t have happened.’
The guy’s beast is full-on weird, but otherwise I’ve seen his like back in the Barrenlands. A shock of hair that might be white if it got washed. Straggly beard. Mouth full of broken teeth. Bent back. Calloused hands. Lined face and deep-sunk eyes that have seen too much hardship.
‘Didn’t mean to run you down,’ he says. ‘Wouldn’t do that. Didn’t see you, did I? No.’
He squirms, like he doesn’t know how to stay still. Head tilted back, his watery eyes slide around strangely, never settling. I realise he’s blind, and a bit mad.
‘Relax. Nobody’s going to hurt you, old-timer,’ Murdo growls. ‘We just want to know what happened here.’
The man twitches. ‘Don’t know nothing ’bout that. I’m only a blind old scrapper who minds his own business. What I don’t know can’t hurt me, see.’
Murdo tries again, but gets the same answer.
Cam wanders over, a length of steel pipe in his hand. ‘I’ll make him talk, if you like.’
Murdo tells him to leave the guy be. ‘Maybe he doesn’t know. There’s a crewed maintenance platform near here, where they service the auto-loggers. We’ll drop in, load up on supplies and see what they have to say.’
Cam looks gutted. ‘The guy must know something.’
‘You heard Murdo, we’re out of here,’ I say.
Now if I was the old scavver, I’d keep quiet and be glad not to get my last few teeth kicked out for nearly running us down. But not this guy. He starts pleading with us to help him right his wagon. Murdo goes to shove him aside, but gets grabbed and whined at from close range.
Nasty, with all that spit flying.
‘All right, all right!’
With its heavy load shed and using a length of timber as a lever, the wagon is soon back on its wheels. It seems no worse for its crash. Neither does the beast. It heaves itself up and very nearly gets a mouthful of Ravi.
We leave the scrap metal where it fell though.
‘He loaded it once, he can load it again,’ Murdo says.
The old scavver feels his way slowly round the wagon, like he can’t believe