“A private conversation,” Will said.
“I doubt The Scorpion is in league with the city,” Rhea told the Wardenite. “Assassins operate outside the law. And… well actually, you know what? I take it back. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if the security forces were helping him, considering the Aradne city council tried to destroy Rust Town. The mayor and his merry men aren’t afraid to skirt the law.”
“No, they’re not,” Will agreed.
The three fell silent. Chuck shifted nearby, grimacing as if in pain.
“How’s your side?” Rhea asked over the comm, recalling that he’d taken a hit during the run to the parking garage.
Renaldo crossed his arms. “That’s right, talk to him, now that I’ve only just come to your side.”
“I’m fine,” Chuck transmitted. “Told you earlier, patched it up.”
Rhea gave Renaldo an annoyed glance, then crawled across the rooftop, staying to the south side of the intervening pipes and vents until she reached the utility box that harbored Chuck.
She straightened and reached for his shirt, but he recoiled.
“Let me take a look,” she insisted.
“It’s not necessary,” Chuck said.
She glared at him. “You’re going to turn down your Warden?”
With a sigh, Chuck raised his shirt. A crooked bandage covered his ribcage; it was secured with medical tape wrapped haphazardly around the torso. The rushed nature of the application wasn’t surprising, given that he’d completed it while under attack by drones.
“Do you still have your kit?” Rhea asked him.
They had all carried first aid kits in the cargo pockets of their pants for the mission.
“No,” Chuck replied. “Left it in the semi.”
Rhea nodded. She still had her own kit and intended to change his bandage.
Rhea unwound the tape, preparing herself for the worst. When she had removed the last of it, the bandage remained affixed to the wound. She started to slowly peel it away when Will sent: “Careful.”
She stopped, giving Will a curious glance.
“It’s probably glued there by dried blood,” Will explained. “You peel it off, you reopen the wound.”
“Could be the wound is already open,” Renaldo sent. “And the plasma itself is acting as the glue.”
“Are you a medic?” Will asked.
“No,” Renaldo admitted.
“Then shut up,” Will sent.
“But neither are you!” Renaldo complained.
Will growled over the comm.
Rhea hesitated, then made up her mind. It was probably for the best if she let an experienced medical practitioner examine the wound. Changing the bandage might be a bad idea, especially if all she did was reopen the wound. She didn’t notice a smell of any kind after all, so that was a good sign at least.
She pressed the upper edge of the bandage back into place, then rewrapped the tape much more neatly around Chuck’s torso.
When it was done, Chuck lowered his shirt.
“A drone did that?” she asked him, transmitting over the comm so that the rest of the team could hear.
“Uh huh,” he replied. “Glancing glow from a plasma blast.”
“You’re sure it was just a glancing blow?” she pressed.
“I don’t think he’d be alive right now if it was a direct hit,” Will sent.
She nodded. “You’re probably right.” She rested a hand on Chuck’s knee. “You’re going to have to book some quality time with a rejuvenist when we get back. After the doctor finishes properly patching you up.”
“Maybe I want to keep the scar,” Chuck said. “To remind me.”
She smiled. “Hey, whatever makes you happy, my friend.”
She low-crawled back to her previous position, since it had a better view of the parking garage three streets away and propped up against the gooseneck vent once more.
Another half hour passed. Then drones began to emerge en masse from the parking garage. Each of them carried a payload of some kind. She zoomed in: it looked like Will was right about what the drones had been doing in there, because those payloads appeared to be the most valuable parts salvaged from the semis.
“Guess we won’t be able to retrieve any useable components for your damaged arm servos,” Will sent.
“That’s fine,” Rhea told him.
The rest of the drone fleet took flight from the surrounding rooftops, and just like that they departed west, their numbers swarming away across the sky.
“They’re not leaving any forces behind at all?” Renaldo transmitted. “That’s strange.”
“Not really,” Will said.
“They decided we were killed by the bioweapons?” Chuck asked.
“Or they don’t care anymore,” Will said. “They only wanted the water. And figure the bioweapons can have us. It’s not worth the cost to extend their operation.”
“We have to assume they left at least some hunter killers behind,” Rhea said. “Perhaps even a predator drone.” Those were drones that flew at high altitudes, out of earshot, but still capable of raining down death.
“Predators have their own visual targeting system,” Will said. “If we don’t know where it is, we don’t know which areas are safe for travel.”
“If Gizmo isn’t able to detect this drone, it’s safe to assume it’s flying far too high for proper visual identification,” Horatio said. “It will be relying on the spy satellites for targeting data.”
“But is it truly safe to make such an assumption?” Renaldo asked.
“Maybe, maybe not,” Rhea said. “But it’s one we’re going to make. Unless you’d prefer to stay here, hiding inside this Tasin-infested city for the rest of your life?”
“Well no, but I just thought we could wait it out,” Renaldo said. “Like a few weeks or something, until we’re sure the predator has gone.”
“We don’t have enough food and water to last for more than a few days,” Will reminded the man.
“What if there’s a smaller hunter killer still hidden somewhere in the city?” Renaldo pressed. “Watching the streets from the window of a building, waiting to strike?”
“There could be, which is why we’re going to have to be very careful when we advance,” Rhea said. “With Gizmo clearing the route beforehand. Plus, if we travel at night, we force the enemy to use LIDAR to locate us.” She was assuming of course that the thermal masking clothing they wore would be operating correctly. “So we’ll have at
