Warp World by Kristene Perron, Joshua Simpson Page B

back route into the warehouse with surprising ease. Manatu had remained outside, on watch, while Fismar led Seg up the ladder to the upper levels, slipping unannounced and undetected onto one of the catwalks high above the floor below. Disappointed by the lack of sentries or barricades, Fismar quietly commented on the matter as they slid into position to watch the group play their game.
    “You’ve just started to pay for their patch jobs. Trust me, you run troops and you run med bills.” Fismar kept his voice low. He shrugged and returned his focus to the men, then pointed at Viren. “So, there’s your loudmouth. He’s a natural, you need him on the side of whatever you’re doing.”
    “He’s an irresponsible scoundrel. I didn’t want him here,” Seg said.
    “He’s a natural. You want him,” Fismar repeated. “Trust me on this; this is my business. Going to have to split him up from his buddy with the big chin, though.”
    “Prow, that’s what he’s called,” Seg said. “A card cheat, among other dubious talents.”
    “Prow, gotcha. Always separate the troublemakers, never forget that.” Fismar shifted his finger to Viren’s opponent, “That one there, he picked up a bit during decon. Cerd Jind, he’s the one who follows rules because they’re rules. Not my type exactly, but there’s a place for guys like that. Just need to file off the too-good edge.”
    Seg studied the muscular man, his coiled drexla tattoo highlighted by the sheen of sweat on his back. “He’s not the sort I’d characterize as too-good , honestly.”
    “Trust me, I know this business, Theorist. As for rules, the rest of the World may run on ortho, but we fight to win. The ones who are worth a karg, anyway. So there’s rules, and there’s rules of how it works. You follow the rules that work and karg the rest.”
    Seg winced as one of the larger players was taken down by a dirty play from a stringy, angry looking little man.
    “I like him.” Fismar nodded. “Wyan, I think it was, from the prison. Yep, him I like. Him I can do things with. He fights to win.”
    “Should we stop this before someone is killed?”
    “Probably ain’t gonna kill anybody. Sure, you’re going to have to bring your med back after this is over, but I’ll work them harder than this.”
    Seg despised the thought of calling on that gutter scraper medical Elarn again. But what options did he have? He needed someone who would travel to Old Town to work on a group of rowdy, ungrafted Outers, and keep his mouth shut about it. For as little money as possible. No respectable medical would even consider such an offer; most would immediately report him just for making it.
    As Ama took down Wyan, Fismar nodded again. “Her. She’s rough around the edges, but she’s good. ’Course, she was at the Temple. We know what she can do.”
    “Yes.” A smile spread, unbidden, on Seg’s face. “I do.”
    “Mind on the job, Theorist.”
    “What?” Seg turned toward Fismar. “I wasn’t—”
    Fismar elbowed him. “Joking, joking. I don’t give a karg if you like her for real. I never gave a damn about ortho anyway. I mean, it’s kinda weird, but whatever does it for you.”
    Seg’s mouth worked as he considered, then withheld, a retort.
    “Ama won’t be staying with the men, anyhow. She’s coming to live with me.”
    Fismar cocked his head. “That a smart idea?”
    “What do you mean?” Seg’s shoulders rose, his muscles tensed.
    “She going to be your caj?”
    “No.” Fismar made no response, but in his eyes, Seg read disapproval. “These men will train to be raiders, soldiers; Ama has to learn to work as my assistant on extrans missions, which means she will train under my direction.”
    “You’re going to teach her to be a Theorist? Her ?” Fismar laughed.
    “It’s not your business.”
    “No it’s not. Anyway, I’ve studied the notes you sent. Gonna be a bit unortho training these ones up. Shave off the hair and beards, stick