Page 129 of Dustwalker

Newton nodded. “I can assure you, neither myself nor my companion mean to harm anyone here. We came because Miss Brooks was gravely injured, and I lacked the means to tend her.”

Rodriguez’s eyes shifted to Ronin. “Who are you?”

“Ronin. I am… I was a dustwalker, most recently out of Cheyenne.”

“You’re built like a soldier. Right down to your hair. Recall any of that time?”

“Images, occasionally. My memory was damaged in the Blackout. I have no specifics.”

“Have you retained any of your combat programming?”

“I’ve survived fifty-one thousand, six hundred and forty-eight days in the Dust. Ended a lot of individuals that meant me harm. Don’t know what I’ve retained and what I’ve lost, but it doesn’t seem to have much bearing anymore.”

“That’s over one hundred and forty years,” someone said. A hush fell over the group.

William rubbed his chin, studying Ronin. “We might be able to restore your memory. There are several bots here who’ve gone through the procedure with few complications.”

It was the logical course for Ronin to follow to learn where he came from, what he’d done before, who he was. To be whole. It would give him the answer he’d been seeking since being reactivated.

But what was he missing now? Knowing what his place had been in a dead world wouldn’t help his future. He wasalready whole. Lara had given him purpose, had given him meaning. His core programming didn’t matter, and it never truly had. Seeking it had served only as a reason to move forward, as motivation to keep him going, and he no longer needed it to drive him.

Ronin shook his head. “My only concern is Lara.”

William smiled and nodded, easing into his chair. “Very well.”

The colonel leaned forward. “As soon as there’s an update?—”

“You trust Newton’s word that I’m not here to cause trouble. Let me be with her. That’s all I want.”

Rodriguez frowned, brows falling low.

“The work Doctor Cooper and her team have to do is very delicate,” William said.

“You’ll get in the way.” Rodriguez met Ronin’s optics and held his gaze. “If you want them to have the best chance of saving her, you’ll give them the space they need to work. In the meantime, I want you to tell us everything you know about Warlord’s forces. Numbers, armament, defenses. All of it.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Ronin sat motionless in the worn leather chair, fingers digging into its arms. His processors blazed despite his outward stillness. Hours had passed with excruciating slowness. Rodriguez’s questions were concise, direct, and seemingly endless. Throughout, Ronin’s thoughts had repeatedly returned to Lara.

There was a knock at the door.

“Enter,” Rodriguez called.

The door opened, and a woman dressed in a white coat stepped in, approached the colonel, and whispered in his ear. When he nodded, she turned back toward the door.

Rodriguez’s gaze settled on Ronin. “Lara is in stable condition.”

Ronin rose from the chair. “Then I’ll go see her now.”

“We’re not finished here.”

“I’m finished. I’ve answered your questions, many of them numerous times, and I’ll answer more later. But right now, I am going to see Lara.”

The woman hesitated in the doorway, eyes flicking between Ronin and Rodriguez.

“You can trust him to cooperate,” Newton said from his seat beside Ronin. “Please, allow him this.”

At length, Rodriguez waved at the woman. “Take him.”