It had been two days since Mirko managed to limp his way back to the Siegfried with Uno’s help. The floor of the former VIP chambers was slightly tilted from the wreck, but that didn’t make the feather bed any less comfortable, and the airtight door kept out the smell of rotting corpses in the corridor beyond.

  The antibiotics the pair managed to scavenge from the ship’s medical bay had stopped him from dying a slow, painful death to infection. His fever was breaking, slowly but surely, although it hardly made his new friend feel any less like a delirious fever dream.

  Uno was still skulking around somewhere, scouring the ship for food, supplies, anything they could use. Mirko had seen him pissing while standing up once, so he learned that much about his new companion. But little else. Talking to Uno was more like training a dog: he had managed to teach him a handful of words and phrases like “food”, “stay” and “over here”.

  As long as Mirko remained useful to the wild slayer, he had his loyalty. A necessity, given the state of his leg. Teaching him new words, pointing out the best spots to scavenge food, and getting him to scavenge ammunition for Mirko’s new Zaykov. All skills useful enough to Uno that he was willing to help keep Mirko alive.

  There was a small knock on his door, something Mirko taught Uno before he walked in. Mostly so the rabid slayer wouldn’t catch him hiding or taking out supplies under his mattress: potential bribes for the future. “Come in!” Mirko shouted and propped himself up on his elbows.

  The gangly slayer walked in, holding a handful of protein bars made from ground honey-ants, a sealed water bottle and a box of pills. Painkillers, although Uno didn’t know that. He dropped them on Mirko’s bed and sat on the ground, staring up at him like a puppy expecting a reward.

  “Thanks,” Mirko said. He tossed one of the protein bars back to Uno, then opened the water bottle and used it to wash down one of the painkillers. “You know, you’re smarter than you look… probably born out here, weren’t you? Lost your parents young? Something like that?”

  Uno mumbled something incoherent, paying little mind to Mirko’s questions as he ripped the wrapper open with his teeth. He only had around half of them, but they were enough to chew through the soft mushy bar.

  “Of course,” Mirko said and laughed, “Not the talkative one. Well, makes you a good listener… Sometimes I wonder why I’m not, you know… more like you. Never really told anyone the full story of how I got here. Wanna hear it?”

  Uno didn’t answer. He was too busy with his meal, a smile on his face as he ate the sweet and salty bar.

  “Why, yes I would, Mirko,” Mirko said on his behalf, trying to mimic Uno’s low, throaty voice, “I bet it’s a real interesting tale!”

  “Aww, thanks Uno,” Mirko answered himself, which prompted a confused look on his friend’s face. Thanks was one of the few words he knew, but he wasn’t sure what his strange, talkative companion was thanking him for at the moment.

  “Must have been… Oh, I don’t know, five, six years ago by now? My very first job as a duster…”

  Was just a twenty-one-year-old kid, living in Vogelsang, you know, that big Zindler Cartel city on the lake? See, I really loved old tapes and I really, really took to all that Zindler propaganda. Wanted to be a soldier boy my whole life, I did. Got my wish too, enlisted at seventeen, finished basic training, even did a tour in Russia during the Kinzhal-Zindler War.

  Thing is… my commanding officer liked my pretty face a little too much. So, you see, one night, I beat the shit out of him. Fractured jaw, broken arm, the works. Dishonorable discharge. Oh well…

  But the military taught me a thing or two about machines, and more than a thing or two about guns. Only took a few months before a dust crew took me under their wing. Crew of the Grinning Ghoul.

  Our pilot called herself Amy, but that weren’t her real name. Couldn’t pronounce that one if I tried. Asian girl, liked dyeing her hair red. Apparently, her family tried to fly a dust ship across the Silk Road when she was a kid, but the poor thing had to finish the journey all by her lonesome. And she was hot as fuck, let me tell you… Had the biggest crush on her.

  Now, I normally ain’t shy about these things, but you know what they say: don’t shit where you eat. Or well, maybe you don’t know that, cause you basically do shit where you eat, Uno.

  Then there was Hans, had some kinda German last name I don’t recall. But Hans was a vet, like me. Except he weren’t dishonorably discharged, and the fucker held that shit over my head like a bucket of puke. Didn’t even start a fight like a real man, just sorta glared at me and grumbled shit. Hated the guy.

  And last but not least, we had uh, Freddy, Freddy Romano, but he insisted we call him Julius. Guess he leaned into the whole “Roman” thing. He was our mechanic and gunner, though honestly, Amy still did most of the day-to-day shit far as I saw.

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  Anyway, jumped into a smuggling run for my first job right away. Didn’t mind, though. Felt good giving Zindler the middle finger back then. Not that I hold that particular grudge anymore. Anyway, this geek in Vogelsang had put together some kinda computer device, to access the web.

  Now, you probably don’t know this, but that’s a big no-no. See, the dust-nites use the web to communicate or reproduce or… some shit like that. I don’t really know the details, but that’s why they fuck with any computer too advanced. Also why they don’t really allow that sort of tech in the cartel cities no more. Doesn’t stop web-divers from trying to get in, though.

  So this thing was either worth a small fortune or the electric chair. We were gonna sell it to some Randuur warlord in Gdansk. Fuck knows what he was gonna use it for, but he had the cads to pay. Problem was, about halfway there, we were hit by pirates.

  Julius put up a good fight with the ship’s gun, but let me tell you: you got three ships chasing you, you hear bullets bouncing off your hull and you see a crack on your ship’s windshield already, well… you’re gonna land and hope for the best. Was a lot of money to let go, but not like that tribal was gonna haul his ass back to Vogelsang cause of a missed delivery. And we figured the pirates would let us go if we just handed it over, no fuss.

  As you probably guessed, that was a mistake.

  Had us at gunpoint soon as we opened the door. Maybe it was Hans and his fucking glare, maybe they thought Amy was too pretty to let go. I don’t know, but no amount of yelling how we were gonna cooperate made a difference.

  Dragged us to some old stadium in the ruins of Koszalin, kept us locked up and separated for a day or two. Took a couple beatings, nothing too bad. Imagine Amy got it worse. Now, I don’t know if they got bored or they figured they’d have to move on soon, but one morning, they dragged us out to the arena for one last bit of entertainment.

  Watched them push Hans and Amy in there first. Boss pirate, big fella called Simon, flipped a coin, then pulled off Amy’s mask. They laughed as they watched her choke on the dust for the next ten minutes, until they could tell she lost it. Then, they cut her and Hans loose and let them fight to the death.

  Yeah…. Hans killed her. Wasn’t even close. Couldn’t see the look on his face under the mask, but don’t imagine he was wearing that stupid glare of his then, no sir. Still remember how I felt when he snapped her neck, shit. Last time I felt sorry for anyone. Coulda cried.

  Was almost a mercy when they pulled off my mask after they tossed me and Julius in. Wonder if you ever experienced the change, probably not if you were born this way. But man… nothing like it. Fear of being killed, pains and anxieties I didn’t even know I felt… All just melted away. Best feeling in the world, really.

  But then the hunger hit, and there he was. Didn’t care if he wanted to be called Julius or Freddy, to me he was just meat. Nothing but a fleshy sponge I was gonna squeeze the life out of. Little fucker didn’t stand a chance.

  Me and Hans were the grand finale. And oh boy… if I thought he hated me before, I hadn’t seen nothing yet. Might have just been the toughest fight of my life. He was stronger than me, for sure. But I was younger, more nimble, and I managed to hold out until that asshole tired himself out. Sometimes I wonder if I would’ve enjoyed bashing his brains out against the floor even if I wasn’t turned yet. Sweet fucking memory, that.

  But see, here’s where you won’t get me, Uno. No one ever does. I was standing there on wobbly legs, all dazed and dizzy, spitting out blood. Pirates cheering, small crew of them approaching me, guns drawn. I think they were gonna toss me out into the wilds as a “reward” for winning. But before I could, I looked the bossman right in the eyes and said.

  “So… can I join your crew?”

  God, if I had one wish, it’d be that I coulda seen their faces underneath those dust masks. I mean, they genuinely didn’t know how to react. I mean, they must have figured I was a sneak or something, but I just stared them in the eyes and gave them a bloody smile, hands raised like a good boy.

  Course I wanted to kill them, wanted to kill them so bad. But I knew, you know? Knew I’d probably be fucked out there. So they kept me alive, loaded me up on the Ghoul that same night when they flew off to new hunting grounds.

  Bossman Simon kept talking to me, like he was expecting my mask to slip any second. For weeks this went on. Sometimes they’d stop, make camp. Sometimes they caught other prisoners and made me fight them. Every time, I’d finish the same way: arms up, smiling, telling them I wished them no harm.

  “Guess I’m just immune… or maybe I just like you guys,” I told them once.

  Eventually, they lost a ship and crew on a raid. Low on men, Simon figured I was telling the truth, and someone like me would be a damn good asset to have. Cut me loose, gave me a gun, told me I was welcome aboard.

  Spent two days in the Grinning Ghoul with him, making sure they let their guard down. And that’s when I finally made my move. Three pirates on board. Put a bullet through the heads of the first two and kept Simon for last. Said thanks for giving me my old ship back and threw him out the hatch.

  Flew to New Helsinki after that, sold the Ghoul, got myself a smaller dust car. Started taking jobs on my own, killed beggars and street girls while I stayed in the city. You know, people no one would miss. Eventually, built myself a rep as the duster who’d do anything.

  “That’s how I landed this job,” Mirko said, finishing his story. He took a big gulp of water, closed the bottle and tossed it to Uno. The wild slayer caught it and blinked at Mirko.

  “Gee, that sure was a great story, Mirko!” Mirko answered for him and laughed.

  “Thanks Uno,” he said and laid back in his bed, “Now fuck off for a while, won’t ya? Cartel will probably come looking for this wreck in a day or two, and I still haven’t figured out if it’s better to link up with them or to hide away. Need to sleep on it.”