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Cutlergram about Bauer. Figured the man himself would prefer that.”
    Cutlergrams were the cheapest way for the Human Union’s general population to send legal notices, and were worth what they cost. The message would have been months in transit. That would have assured that Eden Outfitters had time to spend Cutler’s prepayment before Cutler’s accountants found out that the prepaid goods were, uh, damaged.
    I ran my fingers through my hair. “Now what?”
    The old man studied his fingers. “You won’t last a week without a guide. Probably not with one, either, but that’s not my rice bowl to break. Pack up. Go home. Trueborns are smart. Your boss will understand. Won’t he?”

Nine
    My heart rattled in my chest. “Cutler” plus “understand” formed an oxymoron. And if I lost this job, I’d be dead in four months, when my immunity lapsed.
    Bounty hunters tracked Illegals as zealously as Triple-A ’bots tracked gorts. My plan had been to earn Cutler’s bonus for this job, then spend part of it for up-fare to one of the big hubs, like Mousetrap. You can buy anything at a hub for a price, even a squeaky-clean new identity. Before my immunity expired, I would spend the rest of my bonus for a hub scrub. Then I’d start fresh and broke, but clean and legal, somewhere.
    Cutler didn’t get rich by prepaying unearned bonuses to screw-ups. If he paid me only severance, that wouldn’t even cover outbound steerage fare, much less the cost of a black market ID scrub.
    My stomach churned. Illegals could survive for years on an overcrowded world like Yavet, like fish hiding in a sea teeming with fourteen billion other fish. I was the living proof. But Dead End’s entire population was less than the population of one level in a mid-size stack city on Yavet. A single fish can’t hide in a fish bowl. One-eyed Jack was only a childhood nightmare now. But even the florists on Dead End looked mean enough and hungry enough to moonlight as bounty hunters.
    If I couldn’t get off Dead End, and I couldn’t hide within its tiny population, could I hide outside it? Bounty “hunters” were really scavenging jackals. Scavengers didn’t take risks. This was a huge planet, and the bounty jackals probably wouldn’t risk going outside the Line. But in unfamiliar terrain, among lemon bugs, gorts, grezzen and gods-knew-what else, I wouldn’t survive a week. I closed my eyes and groaned.
    Kit Born cleared her throat.

Ten
    Kit said, “I took Bauer’s place four months ago. I can do it again.”
    The old man shook his head. “That means the other sections gotta keep covering yours. That means overtime pay. And half of Eden beating down my doors, scared shitless.”
    Kit puffed out a breath. “All that’s the same whether it’sme now, or Bauer when you made your deal.”
    I shifted in my chair. That explained why Kit Born left her post out in the boondocks, just to take delivery of supplies that were being shipped out to her anyway. She wanted to size up her potential client anonymously before she pimped with her employer to take Bauer’s place. I got smiled at, interviewed, then got a lift to town because I was a potential paycheck, not a potential date.
    Okay, business was business. Kit seemed mission-capable to me, but when you negotiated “trivialities” for Cutler, you were still obliged to throw coins around like manhole covers.
    I raised my palm. “Cutler paid for a grezzen expert, not a trainee.”
    Kit’s boss didn’t mind being a dick about a refund, especially to a Trueborn, but he also knew Trueborns had lawyers. Lots of them. He squirmed in his chair.
    Kit snorted. “Trainee? Don’t you mean Cutler shouldn’t have to pay full rate for a chick?” She held up one hand and began ticking things off on its fingers. “I’m a licensed multi-engine pilot. I—”
    I rolled my eyes. “Your breasts and your license have nothing to do with it. Cutler paid for—”
    The old man coughed, chopped the air with his