"Well, sure, there's a lot of ways any move we make could end real badly." Saturday shrugs. "We're trapped on a corporate post apocalypse hell-machnie with magic fake sciencey shock collars in our guts an' no real notion what we're dealing with or what each other's capable of or how our respective special shit might interact. Whole rig is a tinderbox, an' I ain't just talking about personality conflicts. Anyway, his name's Alloran, if you wanna talk to him about it."

Saturday's never met a risk she's not willing to talk with a little bit of thought and triangulation - if the reward is good enough. Rules, in her mind, only exist to make you think very carefully before you break them.

"So that's the basic pitch," she continues. "Kind of a playin' by ear thing for the moment."