Page 152 of Dustwalker

After all, they had seventy-five days of abstinence to make up for…

Despite his yearning, he didn’t resist as Lara led him onward.

Beneath tired overhead lights, they walked along concrete corridors and through heavy steel doors. The base’s security was undeniable. The labyrinthine passages would easily confuse anyone unfamiliar with their layout, and presented numerous chokepoints where a small, dedicated force, even if greatly outnumbered, could defend against invaders.

Yet something in Ronin longed for the outside, for the Dust. For open air and relative quiet. Lara had mentioned several times that she felt cooped up, like a prisoner, and he understood. Freedom to roam most of the facility couldn’t replace the feel of wind and sunlight, even for a bot.

The interrogation room, officially referred to as the war room, was full of soldiers when Ronin and Lara arrived. As usual, Rodriguez sat at the head of the long table, now with Captain Cooper to his right and the synth sergeant, Maul, to his left. William Anderson was also present, seated beside Newton.

“Close the door,” Rodriguez said, and one of the soldiers obeyed. “We’ve all sat through thirty of these meetings by now, so we’ll go through this quickly.”

He met Lara’s gaze as she and Ronin sat down. “And no damned interruptions today, Brooks. This is all finalized now. Is that clear?”

Ronin dipped his head, hiding his involuntary smirk. Lara and the Colonel had argued at least once during every meeting. This marked the twenty-seventh such gathering; Rodriguez’s estimate had been close.

Lara raised her hands in mock surrender. “Fine.”

Rodriguez regarded her with his eyes narrowed before standing and looking at the others. “All right, people. You have your team assignments and objectives. Casualties are to be extracted to the forward operating base we’ll establish to the west of town, where Nancy’s people will see to them. Alpha team is going over the wall to secure the hospital, from which they’ll push into the bot district. That should create enough noise to draw in Warlord’s bots from the outlying areas.

“While they’re distracted, Lara will attempt to rally human support. Bravo Team, you’re on her like flies on shit. If she’s successful, you will escort her and Newton into the market, and he will attempt to sway the remaining bots to our cause.”

“The human settlement is usually clear,” Lara said. “Gearheads only go there randomly, looking for rulebreakers to punish or desperate people to toy with. Otherwise, we could suck dirt for all the shits they give. The hard part is going to be getting into the market without raising suspicion.”

Rodriguez pressed his palms to the tabletop, fingers splayed, and took a slow, deep breath. “There are a lot of moving parts here, and we’re dealing with some pretty big variables. We have no guarantee that any of these people will support us. This is the most significant operation launched from this base in two hundred years, bigger than anything any of us have attempted. This isn’t a scrap run into the wasteland. This is awar. Our goal is to win it without anyone getting hurt, but best-case is what you hope for in these situations, not what you plan for.”

Rodriguez tilted his head towards Captain Cooper, who stood and took over. “We’ve scouted Cheyenne thoroughly over the last few weeks. Security’s lax, but we’ve identified at least twenty-five unique tangos, equipped with various small arms. They are all confirmed as bots. We don’t know if any of them have reinforced casings, so we must assume that our weaponry will only be effective within about forty meters.

“We’re not going to be able to use radios. Anderson says most bots have internal antennas because they used to be connected to wireless networks, which means they’ll be able to detect our communications. So we’ll have to listen for gunfire as our signal.

“Stick to your squads, watch each other’s backs, and be mindful ofcover. We don’t want to lose anyone, but it’s going to be real bullets when they return fire, and none of us are bulletproof.”

According to Newton, the reinforced casings that had been retrofitted on many bots couldn’t stop the armor-piercing ammunition that had been issued as the war neared its end. Ronin had dealt with enough holes to know the truth of that. But he also knew that, regardless of ammunition and armoring, it only took a single round to the right spot to take down a robot.

“And what about Warlord?” Lara asked.

“Scouts have positively IDed him several times, but he doesn’t seem to have a set routine. He’s erratic. Only regularity is that he goes to Kitty’s a few nights a week, but it’s never on the same days or at the same times. We’re hoping the commotion will flush him out,” Cooper replied.

“He’ll come. Bastard usually likes to take care of things himself. Problem is, will he go hide once he realizes what’s happening?”

William cleared his throat. “I believe we can provide a little insight. I don’t know how much use it will be, but…”

“We have to treat a portion of this mission as a manhunt.” Rodriguez’s expression was stoic, his gaze shielded. “Warlordmustbe captured or deactivated. Any intel will be useful.”

William nodded, gesturing to Newton. The bot leaned forward, his metallic fingers gliding over a small console inlaid in the table. The lights in the room dimmed, and a screen powered on behind Rodriguez, slowly gaining brightness. Both the colonel and the captain sat and turned in their chairs to face it.

“With Nancy’s help, Newton and I have been delving into the old records stored here. Most of the data is corrupted and inaccessible, and a lot of what we can access is irrelevant, but we’ve found some information on Warlord that may be pertinent to understanding his state of mind.”

A grainy, pixelated image appeared on the screen, in which a man sat at a table in an office. The image clarified as the recording played.

Lara grasped Ronin’s hand and squeezed.

The man was Warlord.

He was bald, with gaunt cheeks and dark circles cradling his sunken eyes, but he was unmistakably Cheyenne’s tyrannical ruler.

“You understand the risks involved, Mr. Turner?” a female askedfrom off camera, her voice crackling over the war room’s hidden speakers.

Kevin Turner, the man who would become Warlord, laughed bitterly. “Yeah. But look at me, Doctor Yuan. Death isn’t a risk, it’s an inevitability. If this means a little more time with my family…” He dropped his gaze and ran his tongue over his lips.