Sword of Minerva (The Guild Wars Book 10) Mark Wandrey (e novels to read .TXT) 📖

“What are you doing?”

“Hacking into the city’s air traffic control system. The world government set up a planetary system some years ago when fliers became common after the fifth starport opened.” His eyes darted around for a moment, then he shook his head. “Yeah, there are a dozen of them around here. We’re made, all right. Damn it, must have been the girl.”

“And you don’t know why she wants you.”

“Yeah,” Sato agreed. By then the Wrogul had withdrawn his tentacles from the boy, who was standing and walking as the crowd applauded.

Rick spotted a wheelchair by the door. Another miraculous healing. Swell. “We need to get out of here.” By the looks of the small crowd, Dakkar had finished working his way through all of them. There was a small trashcan next to the tank which had a pile of…things that looked suspiciously like bloody pieces of meat. Despite having been in combat many times, including having his own arm cut off by a laser, he felt his gorge rise.

A new man and woman moved to the front of the milling crowd. Rick instantly recognized them as the two with the disabled box truck, the ones assailed by the Zuul drone. The woman now held a little girl in her arms. Rick was certain it was Dakkar’s first healing candidate, Nina. One hell of a coincidence, Rick thought.

A quick discussion took place outside, with Nina’s mother and father pointing at Rick, while Nina waved at Dakkar, who lazily waved back. “What were you thinking?” Rick asked Dakkar, his translator flashing the appropriate color patterns. Nina laughed and pointed when she saw it.

“They seemed to need help,” Dakkar replied. “All the ailments were immediately treatable. It’s pathetic they weren’t already taken care of, considering the availability of Galactic Union medical science on this planet.”

Nina’s grandmother made another appearance, this time with a man of similar age with skin the texture of tree bark, testimony of untold hours in the harsh middle latitude’s sun.

“They waste a lot of money on social programs,” Rick said, half to himself. In the United States, the government had set up a chain of stores whose sole purpose was distributing free consumer goods to anyone who lived there, paid for by the taxes on mercenary income. Those same taxes had become so egregious, the Winged Hussars, his last outfit, had vowed never to come back.

“These sorts of cures aren’t expensive,” Dakkar continued.

“Priorities can get skewed when politics are involved,” Sato said, catching the conversation.

The grandmother pointed at Dakkar and said, “Santo del Mar.” The man, likely her husband, nodded and moved into the room.

“I beg forgiveness for intruding,” he said. “I wanted to come see the miracle giver myself, and to thank him, or it, for helping my Nina.” He looked at Dakkar with a mixture of wonder and apprehension. “Everyone thinks you are some kind of saint,” he said, then pointed at Rick, “while that is a divine manifestation. My son and his wife, Nina’s parents, said you saved them from an alien machine, and they think you’re an angel.”

“What do you think?” Rick asked him.

The man’s face grew a wry smile. “I think it’s an alien, though I don’t know what kind. I’ve heard of one in Houston who can put computers in your brain. It was described as a glowing octopus.” He glanced at Dakkar. “I see a glowing octopus. You,” he said to Sato, “are its guide, or something. This other person is your protector. It is not a CASPer; they are much bulkier. Is there a man inside?”

“There is,” Rick confirmed.

“Your observations are very astute.”

“I’ve run businesses all my life, starting as a farmer, then a mechanic, and moved on to logistics. You meet aliens and see alien technology. But this is a small town, and when many see such wonders, our Catholic upbringing kicks in. The Spanish, they made us Christian, but we kept much of our older beliefs covered in the new beliefs. Gods, saints, goddesses, spirits…” He shrugged. “We see what we want to see.”

He put a hand lovingly on Nina’s head. “When she was two, she fell from the porch and hit her head. At first the doctors said her vision would come back, but it didn’t. By the time I was able to take her to a hospital, they said the damage was done. They don’t want to use the miniature machines, nanites, on her because she’s only five years old now. Yet in the same voice, they say the longer it goes, the harder it is to cure. I’ve been putting away money to pay someone in a startown to do it anyway.” He held out a handful of credits, Rick guessed over a thousand. Quite a fortune for such a small town. “You take it.”

“We really don’t need your credits,” Sato said.

“But we appreciate the gesture,” Rick added quickly as the man’s face began to harden.

“Then what can I do for you? Don Gutierrez is a man of his word, and you have given me a gift beyond measure.”

“Unless you can somehow get us out of here without the other drones flying around finding us?” Sato shrugged, and Rick grimaced.

“You are wanted?”

“Yes,” Sato again answered immediately.

<Stop telling everyone we’re here illegally,> Rick admonished him over their pinplants.

But Don Gutierrez nodded and made a noise. “I see.” He glanced at his son. “The truck outside is yours?” Sato kept quiet for a time. “Obviously it is, and that explains why Hector’s truck was attacked. Same model. Where do you have to be?”

“Anywhere in America,” Rick said, breaking his own rule. He’d suddenly gotten the feeling the dice were rolling in their favor for a change.

The man gave the same nod and turned to the crowd. In a flash he was pointing at men and