Free Death's Head by David Gunn

tell you,” she says. “I’ve been celibate for fifteen years.”
    So loud is my laughter that a boy sticks his head through one of those holes in the tunnel wall to see what the noise is about. He takes one look into my face and disappears.
    “What?” demands Debro, sounding almost offended.
    “It would be like fucking my sister,” I tell her. “And you need to meet my sister to know how bloody scary an idea that would be. She’s more my type…” My nod takes in the girl, all long black hair and features so fine she looks like she’d crumple in the first decent wind.
    “She’s everyone’s type,” says Anton, earning himself a glare from Debro.
    “I mean it,” he says. “She’s going to be trouble.”
    Debro looks at him.
    “You saw the way Ladro looked at her. You’ve seen Sven’s interest. There isn’t a man in this group who hasn’t checked her out with his eyes. It’s going to get worse.”
    “What do you suggest we do?” asks Debro.
    “I don’t know,” Anton says. “What can we do?”
    “Trade her,” I suggest. “Now, while her value’s high.”
    Debro shakes her head. “We…Are…Not…Trading…Anybody.” She is so upset she can barely bring herself to look in my direction.
    “And if people die?”
    She does face me then.
    I sigh, think about what words I want to use.
    Anton and Debro have had people listen to them for their entire lives. If anyone ever listened to me it was because I had stripes on my arm, and when those went I fell back on silence.
    “People will die trying to protect her,” I say. “And those left will resent her and want what they’re protecting her from. I’ve seen it happen.”
    “All the same.” Anton shrugs. “We can’t just give her up.”
    “We can get food,” I tell him. “Maybe blankets and medicines.”
    “No,” Debro says. “She stays.”
    “Why?”
    “Because,” says Debro. “That’s the right thing.”
    I think about Debro’s words as we wander deeper into the tunnel. The rough-cut holes in the walls are becoming more frequent, the light fungus rarer. The temperature drops a degree or so every few hundred paces, and already our breath hangs around our faces like smoke. We have no food, few possessions, and little enough to keep us warm.
    In the legion you protect your own. Debro’s demand is a version of that, but she’s widened the group to include everyone in need of help, including people she’s only just met.
    It is a really dumb idea. I just can’t work out how to tell her so.
    As it gets colder the group behind us become quieter. People are beginning to wonder how much worse the situation can become. They have no idea. Although when the tunnel does change, the change is so spectacular that even Phibs forgets to be miserable. The ceramic wall just stops and we step into a tube of frozen white gauze, with a thousand translucent ribs where bracing struts should be. A primitive backbone skims into the darkness above our heads.
    “Impossible,” says Debro.
    Anton shakes his head. “It’s here,” he says, touching his hand to one of the frozen ribs and wincing, as he has to peel it free.
    “So Paradise does have wildlife,” I say.
    “It would seem so.” Anton’s voice is matter-of-fact, and he begins to walk on before the rest of us have finished staring. He’s a strange man, and it’s hard to tell if he likes Debro or hates her.
    “What is it?” Debro asks.
    “It’s a worm.”
    “Worms don’t have ribs.”
    I take a look around us. “This one does,” I tell her.

 
    CHAPTER 12

    A HUNDRED, maybe two hundred paces beyond the beginning of the worm a man in a side tunnel has a fire burning. The smoke is sour, and whatever he’s cooking smells rancid. I’m interested in what he’s found to burn; Anton is more interested in his source of food.
    “Hi,” says Anton, ducking his head to fit into the burrow. “I’m new here.”
    Hard eyes stare at him, and then flick to where I stand in the doorway. The