The streets were quiet in the hours before dawn as Rat carried the woman through the industrial part of the town. Not a sound to distract Rat from the woman’s labored breathing. While hardly unaccustomed to the sound of the dying, it was different, now that she had the chance to actually save someone. It wasn’t a good kind of different, either.

Although Rat was expecting it, her stomach still sank as they left the cold buildings in their footsteps and started back through the residential area. It wasn’t nearly as bad without the people. The little buildings, many with flags hanging from windows or yards covered with colored rocks, were almost pretty, especially in the early morning before light could blast back the colors in Rat’s eyes.

Finally, they came to a stop at the front of a building with a large bay door in the front. It had a lot full of trucks parked, windowless, like the ones in the industrial area, but smaller and decorated with pictures of forks and spoons and bowls containing brightly colored rice and vegetables.

Rat stopped and stared at the building, wondering if the woman’s urgent stop was food.

“Keep going,” the woman hissed, making Rat jump. “Around back! And hurry!”

“What is this place?” Rat asked. “Breakfast?”

“Around the back, in the alley. Anyone could see us if we stay out too long.”

Breakfast now painfully on Rat’s mind, her stomach gurgled as she hurried down the alleyway next to the building. It was much cleaner and wider than the last she’d been in. There was a little side door that Rat hurried up to, but before she could knock, it opened.

Rat flinched and jumped back, body tense. A severe, older woman peered out. Her gnarled brown face contorted with shock when she saw Rat’s white face, but then the wizened woman’s eyes landed on Rat’s charge.

She muttered something in a jarring language, something Rat didn’t understand. Everyone was mandated to speak Imperial, under harsh punishment, but sometimes people still spoke their old languages, specifically English and Chinese. Rat couldn't tell which this was. They stood there talking for several minutes, eating away at Rat’s patience.

“Would you-” she started but just then the injured woman seized in her arms. She gasped a few more words before going limp. Rat caught enough of the words, ‘rane’, ‘fall’, and ‘alfa’, to identify it as English.

The old woman started to open the door when she seemed to remember Rat was there. She uttered more words in English, ones Rat knew. "Hoos this?"

The bloodied woman rasped one word. “Frend."

The older woman gestured violently into the dark building. Rat couldn’t see past her. She looked over her shoulder at the road. The woman needed help but Rat could just leave her here and be done. On the other hand, the woman had been ready to have Rat kill her until she learned Rat was an ally. Or at least enough of one to kill a Drone. If she trusted Rat…

“Fuck fuck, alright.”

The old woman opened the door. It was dark, but Rat could see that even though the woman was shrouded mostly in wrinkles, she had the body of someone who regularly ate at least two meals every day. Still, something in her eyes was starving.

Rat followed her down a dark, cluttered hallway. They were barely in the corridor for a few seconds but she still almost tripped three times over various crates and boxes and even a mop. After passing a third door, the old woman finally opened the door at the end. This time, the woman waved a hand at a wall and the room lit up.

The shelves, tables, even the chairs were made of a muddy clay and Rat was uncomfortably reminded of the goop she’d woken up in the other day. The only piece of furniture not made of clay was a long wooden table.

The woman gestured at the table and Rat dropped the injured woman on it.

“Fuck,” spat the woman as she landed rather hard. Rat winced, apologetic.

“Tsk tsk tsk, Noha.” The older woman shakes her head before springing into action. She darted back and forth, table to shelf, table to cabinet, table to drawer, and soon a large pile of bandages and needles and clamps had piled up next to the injured woman. The room must be a doctor’s office, hidden inexplicably in a food depository. The place smelled clean but lacked the stinging bite of alcohol at Yasmin’s office. There was another smell too, one that reminded her of the ‘oatmeal’ that Yasmin had fed her, mixed with a more familiar tang of sea salt, but without the reek of the ocean. This doctor's office didn’t have a frighteningly garish mural but there were hanging frames that held blurry photos. On closer inspection, the photos looked like they were just rather poorly painted pictures. Rat was tempted to brush a finger across the picture but had enough scars on her hands and wrists to know better than touching fancy people’s belongings.

The old woman, a doctor maybe, snapped her fingers and Rat whirled around, body tense. The woman's eyes bore into Rat's and she said something in English again.

Rat blinked. It wasn’t enough for Noha to refuse to answer any of Rat’s questions and instead to direct her to a hidden doctor’s office when just an hour ago she’d told Rat they couldn’t go to a doctor. No, to add onto that, they refused to speak a word in imperial.

Rat scrambled for the few words she’d be taught at the mine. "I…. None Anglish?" The syllables felt weird in her mouth. She poured over a few other words she knew, trying to remember their meanings. ‘Vilet’ was a flower, ‘brite’ was like stars or fire, ‘mountin’ was like a large hill. They were useless, absolutely useless to help her here.

Rat slammed her fist on the table, the doctor’s tools jumping. "For flad’s sake lady, can't you speak imperial? I drag this stupid bitch who’s ready to fucking kick it all the way over to this specific doctor, to save her life, which I’m told is something people really fucking value, and all I get is a buncha jibberish spewed around me. Who the hell even uses English?"

The woman blinked, her lips parting in shock and maybe amusement. "Yes, of course I can speak imperial. And I’m not a doctor. I’m Galela ." Her voice, melodious thickly accented, was thankfully clear enough for Rat to understand.

"Great, wonderful. Now, what the fuck did you say to me before?"

Galela looked rather nonplussed. "You don’t speak English?"

Rat stared at her, hoping briefly that whatever power had left her with empowered strength and durability could also set this woman on fire. “Are you sure you speak imperial? Cause I definitely already told you that I don’t.”

Galela took a very deep breath. "Ok. I will keep this short. Noha says you killed a Drone. Did you?”

"That God thing in the alley? Made nightmare spawn from garbage to try to kill me? Yeah, I killed it."

"Not a God. A Drone.” The woman went back to tending to her patient. “Now, what do you mean, you 'killed' it?"

Rat's fist twisted and she gripped the fabric of her pants. "The fuck do you… Are you sure you speak imperial? It means I stabbed it went limp and its eyes went dark."

Galela just shook her head as she tied another bandage around Noha’s arm. “That’s not possible.”

Rat yanked hard, feeling her pants tear but reveling in the sound of ripping fabric. “Little fucking help here?” she addressed the woman on the table. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was shallow but even. Rat was on her own. She fixed the old woman with another look to kill. “I don’t give a shit if you believe me or not. I killed it and I was hoping you’d have maybe an answer or two for me, but your comprehension doesn’t seem all that great, so maybe it’s best if I just leave.”

Galela had stayed still for most of Rat’s rant, head down over Noha. It wasn’t until Rat began stomping towards the door, the spongy stone floor absorbing her footfalls, that the old woman turned.

“She’s stable now.” She gestured at Noha. “But she needs more. You must accompany us back to base.”

“Why? Cause she told me there’d be a lot of questions and answers when I get here but the only real question-and-answer I’m seeing is a fucking doctor who isn’t sure what death is.”

The woman laughed. The musical sound was out of place coming from the woman’s rugged face, but finally, her eyes landed on Rat.

“Drones are Deathless, little one. You have to understand our confusion, hearing you so brazenly claim to do the impossible. Now,” the woman clapped her hands together and began gathering up some more medical equipment into a large satchel, “you hate the Deathless, I assume.”

Rat puzzled at this. “Uh… as opposed to?”

“You might be surprised how many folks are perfectly ok with them being in charge.”

Now it was Rat’s turn to stare. How could anyone not be opposed to the Deathless rule? Then again, maybe that wasn’t so crazy. Maybe Galela only knew the cheerful people who lived in this town, with their fluttery veils and sweet oatmeal and bright flags. Maybe these people didn’t hate the Deathless. Maybe they didn’t have a reason to.

A deep, ugly feeling burned in the pit of her stomach at this thought. Why were these people allowed to live peacefully under the Deathless? Why weren’t they slaves? Why had some places on Earth been allowed to remain happy?

“Don’t be mad at them, sokar. They aren’t your enemy. You hate the Deathless.”

Now it was a statement, but it didn’t quite chase away the ugly feeling in her stomach. Rat nodded, jerkily.

“Then follow us and we’ll give you the tools to help fight them back. You killed a Drone and that’s not something that’s easily done. Or… ever done. We may need you.”

If they were counting on her to take down a Deathless the way she’d taken down the Drone, they were delusional and probably dangerous. They’d probably get a lot of people around them killed. For a moment, Rat pictured shaking her head and walking out. Galela would bring Noha to their mysterious home and out of Rat’s life. Rat would spend her days dodging followers of the Deaconess, unable to really leave this desert surrounded town. She’d just live here until something killed her. No fighting Deathless. No stopping the hurt. No saving Avara.

“Fine.”

Galela nodded brusquely and turned to a taller closet. She pulled out a bundle of orange and green cloth and jammed it in Rat’s arms. The fabric was that same silky material as the shirt and Rat already hated it.

“It’s a scarf. Put it over your face, for safety and secrecy.” Then she scooped up Noha and gestured at Rat to follow her out the door.

Rat, again, tripped her way down the hallway, fumbling to wrap the scarf around her face enough to hide her white skin.They exited the hall through a new door and found another dark room. In the center of the room was a vehicle. The large platform with the long seat down the middle were familiar to Rat. But while the vehicle class, a hoverpull, was commonly seen in the mines, this one was modified. It was missing all the hitches on the back and the corners were smoother. Its seat was longer, like maybe four or five people could straddle it at once and it was covered with straps.

“Climb on. We’re in a hurry.”

The order made Rat hesitate. Habit and fear held her back but logic and curiosity pushed her forward. Gritting her teeth and pulling her scarf tight, Rat stepped up onto the platform and climbed onto the seat. Galela started strapping Noha down across the seat.

“I can hold her,” Rat said, watching as the woman was tied down tight, her back arching painfully over the seat.

Galela laughed. “You’ll need to hold yourself.” She gestured at some foot stirrups and straps at the top of the seat.

Rat raised a pale eyebrow. “They used to make the slaves stand on the platform when they needed us to unload the cargo. They’re not that fast.”

“This is not a cargo hoverpull. Not anymore.” Galela hit a switch on the hoverpull and it hummed to life. As it took to the air, rising several inches off the ground, Rat noticed the usually stuttery buzz was absent. Instead, Rat felt its life in the seat, vibrating through her bones. A large bay door opened, revealing a dawning outdoors, the sleepy brown streets just starting to light up.

With no warning, the hoverpull shot forward, out the door. Anything that wasn’t holding on for dear life fled from her head. If Rat hadn’t been in a Deathless’s personal transport the other day, she would say this was the fastest vehicle she had ever been in. The thing was whisper-silent, not even the air they rushed through made noise, as Galela piloted the vehicle through the still empty streets at a breakneck pace that terrified Rat. She squeezed her eyes to slits, watching as the streets gave way to open sand. The sand here was just different than back at home. The grey dusty ground, the hard mountains she was used to… these smooth dunes were nothing like it. Where was she?