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echo of what it once was on its current state. A beam here, a remaining piece of the wall there. Then a burned and blackened series of boxes. There it is.

“There’ll be more boxes, like these,” Sato said and pointed. “But bigger and heavier.”

“What do you mean, heavier?”

“Thicker steel.”

“What was this place?”

“A package and shipping service. Well, it was years ago. They did a side business renting mailboxes without asking questions.”

“To criminals?”

“Maybe, but also to people who just didn’t want to be found.”

“Criminals,” Rick persisted.

“Not all who don’t want to be found are criminals. Some have an ex-wife looking for them. Some are paranoid. Lots of reasons.” Rick shrugged. And some are…

Sato moved back, and Rick began overturning burned sections of wall, exposing another section of mailboxes, all light-duty ones like the first he’d spotted. Rick glanced at Sato, who shook his head, so he continued digging.

The armor might not be as powerful as a full-sized CASPer, but it was several times stronger than an unarmored Human. He had to stop a couple times to break sections apart to continue the excavation. After moving several pieces, he stopped and turned toward Sato, then said, “Move along, nothing to see here.”

Sato spun around and gawked. He’d been unaware several big nefarious looking fuckers had rolled up and were ‘casually’ watching Rick’s excavating work.

“Yo, whatcha up to?” one asked.

“Somethin good in there? Lots a people dug in there, ain’t none found nothin,” another guy said.

“You stick around, all you’re going to find is pain,” Rick said. He made his eyes flash brightly, and the punks gawked. “Get! Last chance.” They ran. Rick turned to Sato. “We probably don’t have much time.”

“Let me help,” Sato said and moved toward him.

Rick held up a hand and laughed. “No, you’ll just get in the way. Keep an eye out; that will help.”

“Yeah, sure.” Sato turned around and tried to watch the street, but his heart was racing. Behind him the sounds of breaking glass and crunching wood echoed for long minutes.

“I think this is it,” Rick eventually said.

Sato spun and clambered over the jumbled debris. The pile of boxes was a match. “Yeah, this is it.” He bent over and rubbed at the boxes. Unlike the smaller, lighter versions, these didn’t have little glass windows. Also unlike the others, not all of these were broken open. Clearly someone had looted the place before burning it, but these mailboxes were much beefier than the others.

“The place was torched,” Rick noted. “Anything in there is probably melted or burned.”

Sato ignored him and kept at his search. As Rick had suggested, most of the box numbers were either burnt off or obscured by soot. Most, but not all. Whenever he found a surviving marking, he compared it to his memory. With no match, he moved on.

Rick said something. Sato ignored him and kept looking. Eventually he realized it was getting dark. He fumbled in his pockets for a light. Rick used his arm-mounted laser to produce some diffuse illumination. Sato mumbled his thanks and went back to searching.

Finally, he found a number that matched his memory. Immediately he moved debris to the left to find yet another. The mental images matched. He put his hand on a box. “This is it,” he said.

“How can you be sure?”

“Because I was here. Can you get into it?”

Rick moved up and knelt to examine the box. “Yes, but not here. It’ll take some time. Let’s just take it with us.”

“How do we do that?” Sato asked.

“These boxes are made individually and were fitted into the wall.” The laser-based illumination ceased, and a second later Sato heard four snapping sounds accompanied by a whiff of burning metal. The section of surviving wall that held his box fell away, and Rick straightened. In his arms was the box.

“Well done,” Sato said, and turned toward the street. “Let’s get out of here.”

Powerful, unyielding metal arms grabbed him from behind and spun him around as everything seemed to explode.

* * * * *

Chapter Two

Rick was beginning to dislike following Sato’s crazy urges around the galaxy. He’d never wanted to go to Earth, and here he was. He definitely didn’t want to return to Houston. And yet, here he was. He had a feeling he’d be going more places he didn’t want to go.

Sato guided him as he turned off the freeway and into the ‘you really don’t want to be here’ part of Houston. His suit’s sensors picked up a dozen entities watching them drive down the ruined roadways. Rick watched them in turn, closely.

They turned at Sato’s direction, passing a mostly intact building with a sign. “Genghis Kahn Import/Export.” A solitary man stood by the entrance watching them drive past, his dark skin almost like ebony, and his stark white eyes followed their SUV as it passed.

Sato took no notice and continued to lead them to some destination only he knew. At least, Rick hoped he knew where they were going. His quip about tanks wasn’t offhand. Old Houston was notorious as a war zone. Some of the rougher mercs used it as a free-form training area. Despite the best efforts of local authorities and Earth Republic forces, tons of arms made it out of the startown and into the city proper. Much ended up in the hands of gangs, which resulted in Zero Enforcement Zones, such as the one they were driving through in an expensive SUV.

For whatever reason, the locals remained at bay, and Sato led them to the location he was looking for. Rick figured he’d lost it; the building was a wreck. Instead of leaving, he started a post-apocalyptic scavenger hunt in the ruins.

Sato knew exactly what he wanted. Of course, in the tumbledown ruins of a business,

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