They had to bury one of their own in the irradiated path between the twin suns. Their journey was a dangerous one, and they all knew what they were signing up for, but no one ever thinks they’d be the ones to bite it. Another civilized soul claimed by the Green Hell.

  Captain Finnigan gave the eulogy. It was a quick one, considering he barely knew the kid they were burying. The team stripped the dead boy of his environmental suit, packed away his belongings in a keepsake box, and harvested any organics that hadn’t been damaged. By the time the boy was six feet under, he was a skeleton wrapped in skin.

  They didn’t even mark his grave.

  The team watched the true sun break the nightmarish glow of the twin suns, and they all knew it was time to continue onward. They would find Shi-Toh, grab as much shale as they could board, and go home heroes. This would all be worth it once their civilization was saved.

  The skimmer started up and took off without Captain Finnigan needing to give the order. The helmsman, Duncan, was a grey beard who needed no command when it came to operating the skimmer. It was second nature to a man who had done this run countless times. If Finnigan remembered correctly, he was the one who delivered Shi-Toh here. Duncan steered the ship, ignoring the treacherous compass as it spun in circles.

  The twin suns had a way of messing with systems and poisoning minds. The team was lucky Duncan was a man with a strong constitution. Any rookie helmsman would be turned around and driven mad by the flashing warning lights that offered no explanation and constantly spiking meters. Duncan trusted his own senses, and the skimmer obeyed him.

  They broke through the mountains that acted as a natural barrier from the true hell. From here, the town of Footfall looked like a settlement for savages, not the site of so much promise it had been a hundred years ago. Once, it was the place where Planeteers and Spacers convened for joint research operations into the valley. Apparently, it hadn’t been big enough for both factions, and eventually, one of them started the war that ended with the gamma bombs.

  Ironic, Captain Finnigan always thought. He was a Planeteer, everyone on the skimmer was, but he had been out of the dome long enough to know that Planeteer propaganda never told the full truth. He had no idea who started the war, no idea who dropped the first gamma bomb. All he knew was that a hundred years later, that war would be the basis for the flickering light that was the human race.

  These were dark times, and even a hundred years out, the Spacers and Planeteers fought over resources. The only hope was Shi-Toh and that shale. Once the Planeteers had that, they could win the war, subjugate the Spacers, and begin the process of healing the planet.

  That was a noble goal for Captain Finnigan, and it was the reason any of them believed this journey was worth it. If were up to the team, they would bomb the savages in the green hell over twice more just to wipe out one more coven of wastelander filth from the planet. That was part of healing the planet, of course. They had to wash their hands of the grime before they could enjoy prosperity.

  “Captain?” Duncan called. The systems stabilized once they were in the valley, and Duncan’s dashboard showed a single lifeform perched outside the town. When Finnigan saw it, he almost told them to turn around. It smelled like a trap.

  “Safety off, everyone. It might have been a bad idea to drop them the M60 after all.”

  The few members of the team that weren’t integral to the flight of the ship armed up and readied themselves at the railing of the skimmer’s bow. They didn’t have laser weapons like Captain Finnigan did, that was Spacer tech that he was lucky to acquire off the corpse of one of their officers. Instead, they had ballistic rifles set to automatic fire. They outclassed the scrap guns they had been selling the Gordo clan, but under a field of fire, the skimmer wouldn’t hold.

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  Duncan slowed their approach as they came close to the town. There was still no other lifeforms appearing on the scans, and at this point, Finnigan was ready to call off the exchange. It didn’t feel right, not at all. When he saw how much shale was piled up behind the single lifeform, however, he reconsidered. It was enough to stock the lower decks of the skimmer and then some. He wasn’t sure they could get it all in one trip. A haul like this could earn him a larger team and better equipment next expedition.

  It was a single boy. He sat on top of one of the woven baskets of shale holding a bundle of something in his hands. That was a dangerous spot, Finnigan thought. You shouldn’t be that close to the shale when it wasn’t sealed in an airtight container. It was of little consequence to him, however. Wastelanders rarely understood the forces they tended to poke with sticks.

  When Duncan confirmed that the scans showed no more lifeforms in the town of Footfall, Finnigan’s curiosity got the better of him. He ordered the helmsman pull up to the boy and greet him. The wasteland runt didn’t budge as the thrusters of the skimmer came close to blowing him away, and when the ship touched down, the kid stared up in waiting.

  “We aren’t expecting just anyone,” Finnigan’s voice was a static monotone coming out of the skimmer’s speakers. “Where’s Shi-Toh, bud?”

  “Half a mile out of town blown into a million pieces.”

  It was just like a wastelander to be crass with the topic of death. The savages were so consumed by violence and destruction that a corpse was as common as the flies that picked it clean.

  “We only do business with Shi-Toh,” Finnigan said. He thought he was calling a bluff, but when the kid laughed his ass off, he knew that he was telling the truth. “He’s really dead, isn’t he?”

  “I shoved a bomb up his ass and blew him up. You can probably go have a look, but I don’t think you need to.” The boy pulled out a pair of glasses, the same obsidian gleam that once covered their contact’s eyes.

  Finnigan nodded and looked over the baskets of shale. Perhaps Shi-Toh really was dead, and if that was the case, then they would have to capitulate to the leader of the Gordo clan for their bounty. Fine, he thought. Planeteers were resourceful. He would lower himself to the dealings of scum if it meant securing the future of the cause.

  “Very well. We’ll take the shale you have here and return in three months. We expect your warlord to be here next time to accept his reward. You’ll show us the Emerald Expanse when that time comes.”

  The boy shook his head and tossed the bundle up at the ship. Finnigan caught it, and by its weight alone he guessed what it was. He unwrapped the head of Jackmaw Yapyap. It still had the gimp mask on, and blood red eyes stared out of it. A lulling tongue fell from between his teeth, and he still wore a smile like he might bite. It unsettled the captain, so he rewrapped it and dropped it overboard.

  “No Shi-Toh, no Jackmaw? We can’t do business with strangers, kid.”

  “Yes, you can. I’ve got a deal that no scab head can refuse. I’m going to give you all of this shale, and you’re going to take me with you. There.” The boy pointed towards the twin suns.

  That couldn’t work. There was too much to lose to bring a wastelander back to the Planeteers. They were supposed to kill the savages on sight. He wouldn’t get into the dome.

  “Why don’t we just kill you and take your shit?” At Finnigan’s words, his team of smugglers aimed their weapons at the boy and readied to blow him away.

  The boy jumped from his place on top of the baskets and lifted his shirt. There was a fresh wound just below his sternum that had been stitched, but still oozed blood and pus. He pointed to the wound. “There’s a trigger in there. If I die, it sets off the explosives hidden in half of these baskets. Kill me, and you lose it all.”

  Finnigan raised his eyebrows, but the visor on his environmental suit was an emotionless reflection of the wasteland. The savages were prone to using explosives, and crude surgery had been observed by some of their scouts. If this boy had destroyed the Gordo clan, perhaps he possessed the resources to rig an ultimatum like this.

  “What about the Emerald Expanse?”

  “Forget the Emerald Expanse. This is the most shale you’ve probably ever seen. Take it or lose it an inferno. Up to you.”

  Wastelanders. Tricky creatures, Finnigan thought. Fine, if that was the case, he would have to give in. They could execute him once they safely extracted the explosives from the shale.

  With a nod, Finnigan allowed the boy to come aboard. He could wear the dead one’s environmental suit to survive the trip between the twin suns.

  Krav watched the valley disappear as they passed through a secret route in the mountain range. The people who had gotten him this far would want a good story to hear upon his return. There would be plenty to come, but for now, his heart stirred with excitement for his next adventure. He put a hand on Rufus’s venerated skull, and said a quiet goodbye to the Valley of the Twin Suns.