35. Tent Town

35 – Tent Town

“We’ll go around the back-side of the mine; that’ll keep us out of the PKs’ patrol area,” Britt said as her little car trundled its way down the gravel road away from the rock yard. Hector nodded, absently. He was having trouble concentrating, and though he’d taken some serious wounds by any normal person’s standards, he didn’t think they were the cause—not after those trauma nanites. No, he had a feeling his system was to blame, working in the background, applying the potentia to his body to complete his level-up.

Why’s this one hitting harder?

//This is an intuitive thing for me, Hector. I won’t know the details until I’m done.//

He snorted softly, reminded of a statement one of his early Imperial Guard commanders had made about aura systems—they were all divas when it came to describing their “art.”

When they’d left the rock yard, they’d stopped at the mercs’ vehicle—a sleek black utility truck. Hector had smashed a window with a rock to get in, setting off an alarm, but after pulling a few wires, Britt had silenced that. Then, they’d taken a few minutes to pry open an access panel so they could remove the mem chips from the vehicle’s onboard AI.

Hector didn’t want to leave behind any sign of their passage, and he was sure the vehicle had been watching the road. They’d worn some of the mesh masks Britt scavenged from the dead mercs to guard against any sort of live feed. No doubt the magistrate and his men knew who they were, but that didn’t mean Hector wanted to let him stack up video evidence.

He closed his eyes, shifting most of his weight to his uninjured shoulder, but that put more pressure on his sore hip. He didn’t think he winced, but Britt looked at him, clicking her tongue with concern.

“Those bugs might make it harder to get the bullets out—heal the surrounding tissue.”

“So I’ll get some bugs that’ll eat the lead.” He shifted his shoulder. “Or polymer. I don’t know what those guys were shooting.”

“You can’t keep taking trauma meds without giving your body a rest, you know that, right? It’s hard as hell on your organs, and—”

Hector held up a hand, his expression easy to read: please spare me the lecture—I know.

Britt sighed heavily, muttered something under her breath, and leaned back. After a few minutes, she said, “You know, it’s not like I care about you. I just—”

“Don’t want me to die—yet.”

After a bit more muttering, she said, “No, it’s more than that. When your eyes are closed and you don’t talk or move, you look like Paul, and, well, you know.” She sighed again, this time a more wistful sound. “It’s hard not to feel worried.”

“I get it.” Hector opened his eyes, peering at her. She looked away, shifting her gaze out to the starlit, barren landscape. “I’ll be fine. Is there a clinic or pharmacy at this place? I could get an IV flush.”

“Yeah. I think there’s a clinic; the miners get hurt sometimes.”

“Rough job, I guess.”

“Rough people. Yeah, they get injured at work, but I bet more of them get hurt fighting.” When only the car’s humming, rumbling passage over the stony road filled the void between them for a while, she said, “I saw part of your fight with that stalker. I’ve seen Aura Blades before—that’s what that was, right?”

Hector grunted in the affirmative.

“Well, when I saw one being used in the fights, it seemed pretty damn different. It took several seconds for it to, uh, materialize in the guy’s hand. Everyone said that was how it worked.”

Hector’s eyes had grown heavy, and when she stopped speaking, he just grunted again.

“Well?” She nudged his knee with her foot.

“It’s a skill thing—lots and lots of practice.” To himself, he added, and you need a certain amount of talent—and a volatile aura.

“So who were you?”

When Hector looked at her again, his brows narrowing, she didn’t look away. Finally, he said, “You don’t want to do this.” He motioned between her and himself. “Better you forget about me after we handle this business.”

Britt leaned forward, her body rocking with the movements of the car’s insufficient suspension. “How about you let me worry about what I want to do? As for this business, what exactly do you think we can do? I told you: that magistrate isn’t gonna sit around and wait for us.”

“That’s what we need to figure out.”

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Britt stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. “We just killed four mercs. For all I know, the one who killed Paul was in that group. Maybe I should just let it go. People don’t generally walk away from trouble with a magistrate like this. Maybe I can head into one of the cities, buy a new ID, disappear before—”

Hector felt his back stiffen. He wasn’t sure why, but his angry self, his mostly silent companion, had decided that it didn’t like Tacitianus. At some point, he’d decided that the magistrate was synonymous with the people who’d orchestrated the coup against the Contis and framed him. He wanted to see him dead. When he cut Britt off, his voice was hoarse with the thickness of his ire. “And look over your shoulder the rest of your life? This guy wants something. If you’re gonna walk away, you better hand it over. Give it to a courier.” He flicked his hand dismissively.