Part Two. More dialogue and exposition. Sorry.
Malory found walking through Ferris Wheel an unsettling experience, not matter how many times he came here. The restrictions were a big part of that – scavengers were only allowed to be in the city in groups of four, and certain of the heavier weapons had to be checked at the gate – as was the presence of other scavengers. Within a couple of minutes of getting through the walls, Malory had locked eyes with a familiar face. Eyes creased with wry amusement had stared at him from across the street, and after a moment he had placed the weathered skin and prematurely grey hair. They belonged to a member of another scavenger gang who, three days ago, had tried to shoot Malory through the face as they squared off over a valuable piece of electronics. A burst of covering fire from Hugo, who always had to lean into the recoil from his monstrous and heavily modified gun, had sent the man ducking away before he could work out his aim. Malory felt no rancor toward him now, and in any case, fighting between scavengers in Ferris Wheel was punishable by immediate death for all involved. But the sense of unease remained. In my old life, he thought, if someone was trying to kill you, you killed them back, whenever you got the chance. The dissonance contributed further to the prickling in the centre of his back whenever he came in here. Haven had different rules to the rest of the world, and he had been learning them since he and his men had arrived.
And, he thought, trying to ignore the looks that the locals gave him, the rules are different in every city within Haven itself. Ferris Wheel was quieter than Tumblehome, because the city authority was more brutal. Trading was protected in Hooch, but also less profitable, because of the taxes levied. The cities were ruled according to the ideas of whoever was in charge. There was no uniformity. There were also no instructions, and you learnt by observation.
Haven's cities tended to be built on top of old towns. The large cities that had once dotted the country were gone, slagged in the barrages during the purge. It would have been impossible to have eked out a living among the rubble and the solidified molten remains of skyscrapers, and it seemed that those who had survived had no desire to go back to them anyway. They were not a happy memory to be sharing. Instead, the people had gathered in whatever towns had been small enough to avoid the attention of the outside military, and started again. They had swept away the detritus once the ground troops left, picked up the walls that had fallen, and worked from there. Back in Falael, when he had a normal life, Malory would have called Ferris Wheel a slum. Now it didn't look so bad, and he could see order in the improvised dwellings. He could even see pride: a tapestry hung in a window here, a painting done on the wall in the four available colours over there, said that this was a place people made their lives, as well as their livings.
'Captain,' murmured Kipling, and Malory glanced back at him. The squad's sharp-shooter nodded at the far side of the street. 'Someone's taking an interest in us.' Malory looked, and spotted the man, apparently not armed, who leaned against the wall of a two storey building with a tin roof. He was staring at the four troops with lasting interest, and not just the usual irritable curiosity that characterised the people of Ferris Wheel. Malory hesitated for a moment, then shrugged.
'Browning, with me. Kipling, wait here and keep an eye on us. Dumas, stay with him.' The two men nodded, Kipling's hand straying to the butt of his rifle for just an instant before he relaxed again. Malory crossed the street slowly, Browning by his side, straight toward the man, who still stared at him levelly, arms crossed. Malory still couldn't see a weapon.
'See any friends?' he asked Browning, quietly.
'Nope,' Browning replied. He had been looking up and down the street since Kipling had first spoken, his eyes never resting in one place. He did not seem concerned, and knowing Browning, he probably wasn't very. 'If he's with anyone, they're not being obvious about it.'
Malory grunted in response, and then they were standing in front of the man. He stood up two steps up on an elevated porch, and Malory and Browning stopped in the gutter.
'Help you?' Malory asked, looking up at him, and the man's mouth twitched a small smile.
'Maybe. New in Haven?'
'Not really,' Malory said.
'People don't usually keep their uniforms long,' the man said, nodding at Malory's blue fatigues.
'People don't usually live long,' Malory said, shrugging. 'So it would be hard to know.' He began to turn away.
'Heard you might be interested in a new rifle, Captain,' the man said, and Malory paused. 'Like an Arrow maybe? I'm Jonah,' he said, without a pause. Malory turned back.
'My rifle's fine, and Arrows are expensive. Always looking for ammo though.'
'Not for you. For him.' The man called Jonah nodded over Malory's head at where Kipling was standing, watching them without moving. Malory sensed Browning tense.
'Well, Jonah,' Malory said after a pause, 'you certainly seem to know a lot. I might wonder how.'
Jonah laughed. 'Please. A dark-skinned scavenger, in UF uniform, says a name like Breach-Arrow in a town like Catchment, word gets around. New arrivals, military trained, maybe cashed up? Your reputation goes out around you. And you don't exactly make yourselves hard to spot, do you?'
'I suppose not,' Malory replied, without laughing. He relaxed a little though.
'So, are they right? Are you interested?'
'We'll take a look, but we're not exactly cashed up. Sorry if that disappoints you.'
Jonah pushed himself upright, and took the two steps down into the street, looking Malory in the face.
'Figured. This ain't exactly the kind of Arrow you'd be used to seeing either. Hopefully that won't disappoint you.'
Malory shrugged. 'Not me.' He turned and beckoned Kipling over. 'Him.'
Kipling started across the street, and after a quick look left and right, Dumas followed him. 'Sir?'
Malory allowed himself a small smile.
'This is Jonah,' he said. 'He wants to talk to you about a Breach-Arrow.' He saw Kipling's eyes widen momentarily. 'Try not to look too hungry.'
'Yes sir,' the sniper said, quickly regaining control. Malory wondered what this was going to cost.
