It was fall, and the air had turned colder per usual in the Freezone southwest of the Valux Corporate Arcology. That mixing with the retreating sun made for a chilling bite in the air. Terintal dropped to one knee, his breath coming out labored and rasping. It formed a mist before his mouth in the cool air. Lifting one hand from the dusty ground, he reached up to gingerly touch the worn and bloodied bandages over his stomach. They were wet, and had soaked through some time ago. Much more of this and he would not make it.
With a grimace he stood and looked around, trying to get his bearings. The eyesight his Elim ancestors had bestowed upon him helped him navigate despite the growing darkness. The cloud cover hanging low overhead meant that it would be a dark night, so not only did he need to change his bandage, but he also had to start making some sort of shelter for the night. There were limits to his enhanced vision. While he could see well in lower light levels, pure darkness was still beyond the limits of his sight.
He approached a set of ruins. Probably a small home long ago, now nothing more than a pair of opposite corners of a burned out building. It would shelter him from the wind at least, and give him some solid cover to hide in. He eased down and peeled off his blood soaked shirt, laying it across his legs. He found one of the sleeves was a bit less dirty than the rest and tore it free, making a make shift bandage. Peeling the tape and gauze of the original bandage from his stomach, he hissed as the wound and the bandage refused to be freed for a moment. Finally the old bandage came off. He applied the bit of shirt cloth and then reattached the original bandage in an attempt to keep the new one in place.
Slipping the one limbed shirt back on he sighed and leaned his head back, trying to plan his next steps. A few moments later soft echoing sounds from far off in the distance barely registered in the still night. Terintal pulled himself up and turned gingerly around. He peeked through the long gone window, only a the lower third of the frame was even in tact.
Several people were fanned out, torches in one hand, various weaponry in the other. Large dogs strained against large rope or chain leashes. The dogs were on Terintal’s scent. He cursed silently to himself, wondering at the luck of his trail crossing this band of hunting Remnants.
——–
Fifty miles east, ten miles north, and fifty feet up, the Kestrel LLS shuttle skimmed the rugged terrain that used to be the foothills of the rockies. The Prowler LX attached beneath it, jostling now and then due to the rough nature of the flight. Aboard the Prowler a squad of bio-engineered combat soldiers were strapped into their harnesses. Their armor bristled with pockets and weaponry. They each had a standard issue CDEM 32 pistol were strapped to their right thigh, and a CDEM F3000 assault rifle gripped in their hands.
One man stood and talked while the rest listened. Unlike all the others, Sgt Moss was not bio-engineered for combat. He was built for leadership. He strode confidently amongst the combat soldiers, growling out reminders to the orders each had already memorized. “Our target is very dangerous! He is wanted for multiple crimes against within the Arcology.” In this case all that matter though is that they were the Company’s employers. A contract was a contract and it really did not matter how many crimes their target had committed, or against whom.
The Company was not in it for the morality. Justice had nothing to do with their contract. It was all about money for the Company’s human executives.
Sgt Moss continued, while striding up and down the aisle, “We know that he is an Evolutionary Wielder of some power. We will not be caught off guard by his wielding! If he resists, you are authorized to use all necessary force! If he attacks, you are authorized to use whatever force is necessary to bring him down.”
“The plan is simple. Deploy the Prowler and dismount. Stan will scan the surrounding area, locate the target, and we will engage.”
Stan, or Squad Tactical AI Network, was the squads AI comm soldier. His implanted scanner systems were hard wired to the squads communication gear. As an AI, Stan could stay with the squad and protect himself, all while gathering streams of data about the surrounding area and distributing it to the appropriate squad members.
Over the comm system the pilot’s voice cut in, “Drop zone in five minutes.”
Sgt Moss chuckled, grabbed a hold of one of the hand hold loops and growled, “You heard the lady. Drop in five! Be ready to deploy!” Each of the soldiers went through their last minute checks, verifying their weapons were ready, etc. Sgt Moss grumbled, “And somebody wake up Hicks!”
——–
Drigzin slid easily through the rocky terrain. His cloak was nearly silent as it extended behind him. The tough slick cloth prevented it from snagging on any underbrush or sharp rock. Its warmth enveloped him whenever he stopped, reminding him of the security of the Sanctuarium. It was far to the north, months away in the time of his travels.
Like all of his Necrosi brothers and sisters, Drigzin was encouraged to explore the world and discover its secrets on his own. Each week he made a simple recording of his learnings, and transmitted it home through the Net.
His last transmission had detailed his run in with a strange mutant rat colony. It was only through luck and speed that he had survived the encounter. He treasured the new scars though, their aches reminding him of the thrill of the battle and intensity of his escape. He even decided upon a new piercing he would get to further remind him of the encounter. First his wounds had to heal though, and he had to find one of the local settlements so he could find someone with the right hardware.
His goggles rode high on his forehead, since the sun had fallen below the Rocky Mountains to the west of him. He was earplugs dangled from his collar. Out here, he wanted to hear everything, and see everything, experience all of it in its fullest. Once he found humans he usually utilized the protective gear to minimize their loud sounds and bright lights. It was enough to overwhelm him.
So it was that he easily detected the small band of Remnants and their dog companions. He followed them, slipping in his ear plugs as he got closer. If a fight broke out, he did not want to be deafened by his own pistols. The Remnants were tracking someone, and Drigzin was curious to see what would happen when they caught up with whoever, or whatever, they were tracking.
