Page 128 of Dustwalker

Anger flared in Ronin, a harsh, electric buzz through all his systems, catching him off guard. His hands closed into fists so tight that his actuators flashed warnings through his interface.

“Shut the fuck up, Ramirez,” three of the other soldiers said simultaneously.

Warlord had called Lara meatbag, infusing the word with venom and disgust. For this man to casually refer to her in so similar a fashion and ignore her humanity, for him to suggest that Ronin had injured her, that he wouldeverharm her…

Newton caught Ronin’s forearm, squeezing.

Ronin dropped his gaze to the floor. He was here to save her. He had to hold that at the front of his mind. Through clenched teeth, he grated, “Don’t talk about her that way again.”

“He didn’t mean anything by it,” the sergeant said. “Kid just doesn’t know how to think without speaking yet. Doc’s going to do all she can to fix your woman.”

Before Ronin could respond, the group arrived at another large metal door. One of the leading soldiers stepped forward to open it. A wave of sound spilled out, a jumbled mess comprised of dozens of voices and activities. Ronin was ushered through into a huge chamber filled with people conversing and performing a variety of tasks.

His optics swept over the space as he walked with the soldiers, who followed a set of colored lines painted on the floor. Most of the people were human, but many bots were amongst them—not just synths, but older models resembling Greene from the market. Everyone was well-groomed, clean, and dressed in cared-for clothing. Ronin couldn’t identify all the work they were doing, and both the names and functions of many of their tools were unknown to him. He’d never seen anything like this place during his travels.

Overhead, three uniformed soldiers stood upon walkways hanging from the high ceiling, staring down at Ronin and Newton as they were escorted past.

There were several doors along the walls, and two large corridors led out of the chamber.Armory, Barracks, Stockadewas written in red letters over one,Laboratory, Administration, Infirmaryin green over the other.

The infirmary…was that where they’d taken Lara?

The green line on the floor broke away from the rest, turning down that corridor. The soldiers continued along the red line, passing beneath the sign that saidStockade.

The corridor narrowed. The group proceeded through a series of turns, past more doors and hallways, walking ever deeper into the facility. Finally, they entered a large room lined on one side with small cells.

Newton and Ronin were guided into a chamber with a long table. Some of the people sitting at the table wore uniforms, but others were dressed in plain clothing.

“Have a seat,” said the man at the head of the table, gesturing to the open chairs in front of Ronin and Newton. He was broad shouldered with brown skin, short-cropped black hair sprinkled with gray, and a clean-shaven face. The insignia on his blue jacket marked him as a colonel.

Ronin sat as the soldiers who’d escorted him took up positions around the perimeter of the room. Seconds of relative silence ticked by. The room’s temperature was gradually climbing, and at least one human wore a sheen of sweat on his face.

“I’m Colonel Jack Rodriguez,” the man in blue finally said, “Head of Security in this facility. Given your open association with Warlord, and the fact that you came in through an entrance that hasn’t been discovered in two hundred years, I currently find myselfveryconcerned about the safety of my people.”

Ronin focused his optics on Rodriquez. “The woman we brought in, what’s her status?”

“She’s in critical condition. Doctor Cooper and her staff are doing all they can to stabilize her.”

“I want to see her.”

“That’s not how this works. You represent a potential threat. Until I’m certain that threat is nonexistent, I?—”

“Warlord is the one who beat her and left me deactivated. We’re unarmed, and we didn’t resist when your men took us into custody. We knew where the entrance was because my companion has used it in the past.”

All eyes swung to Newton.

He blinked and sat up straighter. “I’ve come and gone through that entryway fifty-nine times.”

One of the non-uniformed men rose from his chair, hands flattened on the table. He was gray-haired, though his neat beard was a bit darker, and had age lines on his pale face. “Newton?”

Newton turned his head to regard the man. Hushed exclamations arose from those gathered, too many and too varied for Ronin to bother isolating any single one.

“William?” The plates around Newton’s mouth lifted in a smile. “In all my years away, I somehow disregarded the effect of time. It’s no wonder I didn’t recognize any faces as we entered. Another bit of foolishness on my part.”

“I was a boy when you left.” William gestured to the younger manseated beside him. Their resemblance was immediately apparent despite their age difference. “My son, Will. He has a child of his own.”

“That’s Newton?” Rodriguez asked, his stoic face turned toward William.

“Yes. He’s no threat to us.”