‘Are you insisting I need rest?’
‘I’m insisting nothing. I just thought it polite that I make the suggestion. I know better than to tell you what to do.’
Misu scanned the bleakness, watching the sight of a sand ship manoeuvring over the landscape, its colossal caterpillar tracks kicking up large drifts of dust. This one was a few hundred feet high and immeasurably long – a mobile village effectively.
‘Ever thought of driving on of those things?’ Misu asked Ferry who took his attention from the track to peer out the window.
‘Not these days,’ he returned. ‘Too many hijacking attempts. There’s been three in the last month alone. Whoever they paid to protect those things must have been in on it. That’s the problem when you contract security groups at port. You don’t know who you’ll get. Who you can trust. I don’t fancy getting stabbed in the back by one of my own. As odd as it may seem, this is a much safer gig.’
‘Figured the size of those things would be off-putting,’ she exclaimed, watching it fall behind a cliff side and out of view.
‘Not this far out in the Sand Sea. They’re turned into bandit nests and stripped out in the Badlands. Before I joined your brigade I did a few crossings through there – at speed may I add. There’s a graveyard around every mountain.’
‘You mean just the stripped ships, right?’ Misu cocked a brow.
‘The crew has to go somewhere.’ He kept his eyes on the track and worked the brake gently. ‘Eyes forward, we’re almost there.’
‘Of all things I get to endure today this here hole in the ground is the one I’m the least enthused about. Sadly I would prefer that I handled matters myself. I can get that sleep when I’m needed less.’
‘And there was me thinking your life is all truffles and fine wine.’
‘It’s good to dream,’ she muttered, taking another look whilst holding on to her wind-flailed locks. The checkpoint was significantly closer.
‘I’m not planning on dilly-dallying. We get things stamped and we’re gone. If I had my way we wouldn’t even put on the brakes.’
‘It’s a disappointing notion for you but even we have to abide by the law of the land.’
‘It’s not the law I’m concerned about.’
Misu hung on to the outer railing as the train pulled in to the station, lining itself up to the checkpoint platform. Its nose approached the lowered barrier gradually and fell between the well-painted markers against platform side and tracks. She waited for the clockwork jet of steam that exploded out with an almighty hiss beneath the engine itself before finally dissipating. She strolled to the steps and hopped down onto the platform, spying an unremarkable two-storey building with pitted tiling. A black painted tin sign hung on the north-facing wall, with paint flaking away from relentless exposure to the environment.
Misu shielded her eyes with a hand and scoffed at the name.
Little Heaven
What a very depressing view of the afterlife, she thought. Her impressions of such a place differed greatly.
Watching since before their arrival, two checkpoint guards sat in the noon shade, tossing cards into an upturned hat. One had his hair combed back to the point where it chanced falling out, or what was left of it at least. The other, young enough to have a badge though seemingly not old enough to shave, set about emptying the hat and recompiling his hand, almost annoyed at the interruption. On Misu’s approach the most senior on duty placed an incomplete deck of cards on the table in front of him before tipping the lip of his hat.
‘Good morning,’ he greeted from his seat, fresh-faced and unusually buoyant. Being stuck out here was enough to cause the onset of depression, Misu assumed, though it was good that someone was able to stave this off – unlike his sour-faced colleague. He watched, flicking debris away from a toothpick.
‘Good morning, gentlemen. A pleasure to be in your company.’
The senior got to his feet and stretched. ‘Kind words. I like you already,’ he stated, attempting to relieve Misu of any concern. Checkpoints were difficult places for all involved. Half were populated with unsavoury types on the take, with the other half a toxic mix of young upstarts who did everything vigorously by the book. Either way, anybody transporting goods normally spent more time at each one than was necessary – or comfortable. She accompanied him along the platform side, his stroll to the front engine slow and patient, as if work was a blight on his person.
‘How are the travels?’
‘Very well, all things considered.’
‘Considered?’ He paused, looking over the carriages that gleamed in the brilliant sun.
‘I don’t need to explain the difficulties to yourself out here, sir. The damned heat is the least of our worries. Little company. Rising costs. It’s a difficult life to be sure.’
‘Ah, yes, now that I can relate to.’ He began marking numbers down in a small notebook. ‘The Morning Star, right?’
‘The very same.’ Misu smiled. Their reputation had grown sufficiently, though in some places this could be unwelcome. Attention could be a curse if it came from the wrong circles.
‘Well I’ll be. For a moment I mistook you for that other one of your kind. What was it.’ He clicked his fingers over and over. ‘Ah! The Gambler’s Den!’
‘That, we are not.’ Misu kept a polite smile on display. ‘I can assure you of that.’
‘No, no you are not, a trick of the heat I imagine. The Morning Star, my word, oh yes. I’ve heard about you, a friend of mine caught a show not too long ago. Said you were the best thing he had ever seen. A circus of pleasure I believe were his exact words.’ He took the last of the carriage numbers down and turned the page in his notebook, giving a series of rapid ticks in a series of columns. Too quick for Misu’s liking.
‘How flattering. It’s nice to know we are enjoyed,’ she stated.
‘Been in any trouble? Any tampering of any sort while you were pulled in anywhere? People sniffing around, the likes of which you haven’t seen before?’
‘Perish the thought. We have someone to deter such things. People would be foolish to even try.’ It was a veiled threat with honeyed words, but a threat nonetheless.
‘Smart move. You can’t be too careful out here. We’ve got bandits rattling around the desert like damned ticks. You don’t have anything on you that you shouldn’t have? Contraband, unlicensed weapons, that sort of thing?’
Misu produced a bundle of well-sorted papers enclosed in leather straps. Every licence had been sorted by type, then sorted alphabetically for ease of inspection. They were received and scrutinized, though it was somewhat more lax than she was used to. Paperwork was stamped and signed before being handed back, with only the travel documents outstanding.
His partner was sniffing around the carriages and almost on cue, a couple of the showgirls slid down a window and began cheery small talk. They cooed and batted their eyelashes, ensuring he was sufficiently distracted. They were young, one a small blonde waif younger than most, the age quite noticeable alongside the freckled red-haired siren who hung on his every word. Misu remarked on this immediately.
‘Don’t be scaring them now,’ Misu called to the guard who quite clearly was pushing his luck. ‘My girls there, they’re fragile things. They’re no use to me spooked.’
The older man ruffled his top lip, sending a greying moustache into motion.
‘I don’t suppose we could convince you and your entourage to step out for a drink, could we? Like you said, company is fleeting around here and we’ve been starved for anything resembling fun.’
‘Sweet, but we must decline. We’re on something of a tight schedule, and punctuality is a forte of mine. I’m sure you understand.’
The senior made the last of his notes and tucked his notebook into a breast jacket pocket.
‘Well, I would say we’re all good here, miss, though there is something still outstanding.’
Misu kept her performance perfect. A query with no hint of sarcasm was d
elivered. ‘Oh? And what would that be? You can inspect inside if you so wish. I assure you, we have nothing to hide.’
‘There’s a, er …’ The man hesitated before leaning in closer. ‘There’s a tax in these parts for this particular type of vehicle.’
Misu sighed. ‘A tax.’
‘Right.’
‘Let me guess. A very specific tax for only vehicles of this very specific type. Correct?’
He nodded.
‘Meaning only mine.’
The nod was repeated.
‘How much?’
‘Around four hundred should cover it.’
‘You’ll get three,’ Misu countered, tossing the pleasant impression aside. ‘And I won’t hear a single objection. You’re pushing your luck out here. A bribe is not extortion. Learn the difference.’
Reluctantly she handed over a bundle of worn notes and waited for him to finish counting. When he was done, the money was inserted alongside the notebook for safekeeping.
‘I’m starting to wonder how a businesswoman like myself can ever make a profit out this way. Ask for that much from everyone and nobody will want to pass through.’ Misu scowled.
‘I’m sure anyone with a competent vocation can recoup this meagre amount in no time.’
The travel documents were stamped with the checkpoint’s seal and handed over. Misu snatched them back into her possession.
‘Besides, if you have difficulties on that front there are other ways to recoup your losses.’
‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Sure you do,’ he repeated in a purr, reaching forward and leaning against the carriage. In any other situation Misu would have vigorously insisted that his hand was immediately removed. On a bad day she would be more inclined to break it. But there was no need for hostility yet. ‘You have the means here to make plenty of coin on the side. I think all you need is someone to broker the deals and you could live tidy. I can think of plenty.’
‘I sure don’t like your tone. Nor do I like what you’re implying.’
‘I could spell it out but the words I would use may not be suitable for delicate ears.’
Misu seethed. ‘My business is not perverted on the whim of the desperate. You’re not the first to suggest such vulgarities so I will tell you with no room for misinterpretation: I haven’t got this far just waiting for a man to corral us into a better life. We don’t need saving. We don’t need your management. All we need from you, right now, is to get out of the way.’ Misu moved her eyes to his intrusive limb. ‘Now get your damned hand off my train before I remove it myself.’
He shrugged in easy defeat as Misu began to climb the steps to the engine, encouraging the bulk of a man waiting inside to hold his tongue. Ferry was keen to intervene, vocally at that, but was silenced with a sharp swipe of her hand in the air. Instead, the driver returned to checking the various dials and gauges in the engine cabin, ensuring that they were ready for departure though not without a small amount of muttering. This was a colossal waste of everyone’s time and the sooner they left the better.
‘Nothing I could do to make you reconsider?’ the checkpoint hand yelled up to the woman as she issued orders to the driver to prepare to release the brake. The Morning Star gently throbbed into life, puffing out small jets of steam from its chimney.
Misu hung out of the cab to deliver her response. ‘Not in the slightest. Raise the barricade and tell your friend to step aside otherwise he may be pulled under our hefty wheels. We wouldn’t want that now, would we?’
Misu stubbornly brushed past Ferry and yanked on the whistle cord in two sharp bursts, impatient at having to endure any further interruptions. She would set them off herself if she had the knowledge though instead had to wait patiently for Ferry to do what he was paid for. He grunted after letting Misu have her moment before patiently heaving back the throttle and locking it into place.
The barricade was raised with the checkpoint hands waving the Morning Star away and out into the wastelands. Then, and only then, could Misu finally breathe a sigh of relief, but she knew full well that there still was plenty to be concerned about – and time to make up.
Chapter 4
Attempts at small talk
The end carriage of the Morning Star was an observation car. It sported large windows, quite ornately decorated – much like the rest of the train – with walnut panelling, symmetrical bound curtains and flowered glass oil lamps connected to the carriage sides. The observation car was split in half, the first accommodating two lines of large leather chairs with side tables for each. The rear end of the car was domed, with two tiers of windows that provided a splendid panoramic view for those in motion. When in show, it became the locomotive’s smoking lounge.
It was here that Misu tucked herself away.
The windows were lashed with a shock of rain that trailed in thin rivers as they moved at speed. The cloudburst covered the sky in deep greys, built up from the region’s uncompromising heat. When rain fell in Surenth it had a tendency to fall hard and this was no exception. The cool wet breeze wafted through the car’s brass vents. Thankfully the deluge was little consideration to the Morning Star, which puffed on regardless. On the horizon a crack of lightning split the sky, landing somewhere on a hillside, its accompanying boom taking its time to reach the train.
Misu looked both at the window and through it, her eyes sometimes focusing on her reflection that seldom looked as tired as she felt. Quite the opposite in fact. The perfect duplicate seemed to stare back, even when Misu gave the slightest of squints as lightning fell once more.
‘Here you are. I’ve been from one end of the train to the other looking for you. Wait, do my eyes deceive me or are you actually relaxing?’
Misu snapped her attention away from the window as Corinne strolled inside. If it wasn’t for her announcement it was possible that she would have been totally oblivious to the company. Misu gestured to the paperwork on a smoking table beside her chair, accompanied by a plate of cake and a white china cup of pink tea seated on a dainty saucer. ‘Evidently not.’
‘What do you call the sweet, then?’ Corinne seated herself beside Misu in one of the high-backed leather chairs with unusually large armrests. It, and the others in the observation car, held people comfortably upright for taking in the view when the locomotive was in motion. Corinne often likened the chairs to a large hug. A couple of the shorter employees referred to feeling as if they were trying to eat them.
‘I call it a welcome break before the carnage is brought before me.’
‘You’re exaggerating.’
Misu pointed once more to the inch-high pile of paperwork she needed to review before reaching their destination. The train’s manifest was double-checked for accuracy, ensuring their last purchases matched what was on board. It was a painfully numbing experience and no way to entertain a few hours. A single detail out of order could spell disaster when checked, given that it was travelling over territorial borders regularly. The Morning Star could be refused entry, impounded, or worse. She didn’t know exactly how much worse things could get than the train being impounded but Franco once threatened it was somehow possible.
‘Trust me, the Star doesn’t run on kind wishes. There’s plenty to busy myself with.’ She leant forward and took the first portion of the dessert onto a silver fork and placed it into her mouth.
‘And that’s why you’re our manager. It comes with the role.’
Misu breathed through her nose, rolling the cake around with displeasure. It wasn’t terrible by any means, but nowhere up to the quality she had been accustomed to the last few years. It was begrudgingly swallowed and the fork placed upon its accompanying plate.
‘Talking of coming with, I honestly thought Kitty would rejoin us. I miss having a decent cook.’
Corinne took the fork as her own and poked the slice, scrutinizing the uneven wobble.
‘What is that?’
‘Colette’s attempt at coffee cake.�
�� Misu washed away the taste with some sweet pink tea. ‘Try some.’
Corrine obliged, taking a larger piece and mulling it over. When done, she went for a second. ‘There’s nothing wrong with that.’
‘We have different tastes. Mine are clearly superior.’
Corinne drew the cake plate towards herself. ‘You can’t blame Kitty for deciding not to come along. That restaurant was her life’s dream. It was a perfect package with us working there. Some people settle down and take root like plants. She’s one of them. It would have been cruel to take that away from her.’
‘You’re right. I know.’
‘They’re also not accustomed to seeing dead people stroll in through the door.’ Corinne waved the fork in the air. ‘You both damn well gave us heart attacks.’
‘Actually that wasn’t my idea. That was Franco’s. My suggestion was to do things subtly but he’s not one to take my advice. I remember a few of you needing to sit down.’
‘I remember Kitty bloody fainting! When she came to the poor girl thought she had died. That probably had something to do with her decision to pursue different avenues of employment.’ Corinne laughed with a mouthful, scattering a couple of crumbs. Misu took to the windows once more. The thunder rode through the clouds, making the glass windows shake in their frames.
‘It would have been easier if we died in that explosion. For everybody I mean. I’m not being morbid; it would have just made things … smoother.’
‘Smoother.’
‘Yes.’
Corinne finished the last of the cake and slipped the plate upon the side table, careful not to nudge the papers.
‘I think you should stop envying the dead and focus more on the living. You’ve got a long wait until the Angels take you somewhere bright and you don’t want your talk to speed up that process. I suppose the big man would take objections to that. Talking of which, have you had any word from Franco yet?’
A flash of light danced from the sky, striking the rock-littered wasteland. The rain kept up its barrage. The drumming on the car rooftop built and waned with the will of the wind. It was as if it wanted to lift the vehicle from the tracks and hurl it into the air.
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