“So you’re an escaped slave who Khrusos decided to order assassinated?” Will said.
“Something like that,” she said.
“You must have really pissed him off,” he said.
“Yes,” she replied. “I do that to people, sometimes.”
Of course, she might have been way off the mark, and Khrusos wasn’t the one who ordered her assassination after all. There was so much she didn’t know. Who wiped her mind? Why? Who wanted her dead? She had so many unanswered questions. She didn’t think she’d ever learn the truth, especially not to the most important question of all:
Who am I?
If she had participated in the Great Calming, she could understand why there were some who wanted to assassinate her. More than understand.
But there was still a sliver of doubt in her mind on that front. This sliver was enough for her to want to fight back. She would know the truth. And if she really had helped kill half the world, then she would just have to find a way to live with herself. If that was possible.
She and the others wore the same camo fatigues they’d used for their previous mission into the Outlands, when they’d traveled to the pipeline that fed Aradne ocean water and cut into it to fill their tanks. During the day, the black and gray “rock digital” motif on the camos would blend them with the rocky terrain, and at night, the fabrics were equipped with thermal cooling and venting technology to mask their heat signatures.
Another SUV drove alongside, filled with more Wardenites in camos. The occupants of both vehicles had been scanned for mind-jacking chips before departing, of course, including Rhea herself.
Providing escort around the two vehicles were several autonomous pickup trucks equipped with plasma turrets in their beds—technicals. Meanwhile, ahead of the group, drones scouted from the air. Gizmo was among them. Their job was to determine whether or not the highlands were overrun with bioweapons. If so, Rhea and her team would probably turn back. If not, she intended to continue, even if it likely meant driving right into Veil’s trap. Which was why Rhea had ensured the convoy was armed to the teeth.
In addition to the technicals driving alongside, everyone had at least two weapons—a rifle strapped to the shoulder and a pistol at the hip. Rhea had a backup pistol at her hip as well, but in place of a rifle, she possessed the Ban’Shar…
She gazed at the bands of metal secured to her knuckles. So innocuous seeming. Yet so deadly.
Don’t fail me.
She had practiced for a few hours earlier, instructing the Wardenites to shoot at her with their plasma bolts at the lowest setting. They didn’t want to do it at first, but after she taunted them and insulted their manhood, a few began to oblige her, and others joined in when it became obvious how good she was at deflecting the bolts. It was going well, with none of their shots getting through, but she had to stop when she almost killed one of the Wardenites with a reflected plasma bolt.
That was the problem with training with a weapon like the Ban’Shar—you could only go so far until you risked hurting either yourself, or someone else. She wondered how she had ever learned to get good with it. She suspected that the weapon had been reserved for cyborg recruits such as herself, recruits who could be repaired after each practice bout. But even then, there was a risk of head injury, for which there could be no repairs.
“So, the Emerald Highlands,” Miles said from the backseat, rousing her from her thoughts. “Interesting that Veil should use the hills as his hiding place.”
“It’s the perfect spot for a hideout, if you think about it,” Brinks commented. “An abandoned mine. A labyrinthine system of tunnels already dug out and waiting to be occupied. Veil had to clear it of bioweapons I’m sure, but once that was done, Bob’s his uncle.”
Rhea cocked her head and looked at Brinks.
“What?” Brinks said.
“Nothing,” she told him. “That last phrase of yours reminded me of the merchant who took me to Ganymede. Interesting fellow.”
“I’m sure he was,” Brinks agreed.
Miles spoke up. “What I meant, when I said it was interesting Veil chose the Emerald Hills, was that I find it fascinating. Here we have an Aradne crime lord, who doesn’t even live in Aradne. I suppose he doesn’t have to, given the network he’s built up. He can operate his entire organization remotely.”
“When you get powerful enough, you have minions who do everything for you,” Brinks agreed.
“That would be great if I could just hire someone to handle Veil,” Rhea said. “But there’s no one I trust enough to complete the job.”
“I could do it,” Miles said. “I’d do it all stealth wise. Infiltrate his Black Hands, then finish him when he let his guard down.”
“You?” Will said. “An albino known for being a dedicated Wardenite? I somehow doubt they’d let you into the Black Hands.”
“Hey, you might be surprised at how convincing I can be when I want to,” Miles countered. “I’d probably have to kill another Wardenite to prove my loyalty, but hey, I’d do it.”
“No you wouldn’t,” Brinks said.
“Yeah, you’re right,” Miles agreed. “I’m talking out of my arse, as usual.”
Brinks nodded. “Happens to the best of us.”
They were quiet for a time.
“Can you stop that?” Miles said.
Rhea glanced over her shoulder to see what the commotion was.
“He’s fidgeting his leg,” Miles explained.
“I always get nervous before any big battle,” Brinks said. “I can’t help it. Need an outlet for my nervous energy.”
“Don’t be nervous,” Rhea said.
“Why?” Brinks said. “Any one of us could die out there. We all know that. And we accepted that, before agreeing to come on the mission.”
“I won’t let that happen,” Rhea said. “I’m going to protect all of you. I’m your Warden, remember?”
Brinks smiled sadly. “But
