Page 167 of Dustwalker
Mercy flicked her optics to Dozer before returning her gaze to Ronin. “We can repair that here.”
Ronin scanned the reception area behind her, but he detected no movement. “Are there any more of them in there?”
“No. He was the only one who came in for repairs last night. There will be a lot more of them here soon, though.”
“That’s the plan.” Ronin glanced over his shoulder as Maul and Dodge arrived with the second fire team close behind them, all holding their weapons at the ready.
Maul stepped over the deactivated bot in the entryway, boots crunching on broken glass, and handed Ronin his rifle from the base. “Situation?”
“Gonna need a repair later, Sarge, but she says the place is clear,” Dozer said, lifting her chin toward Mercy.
“She trustworthy?”
“Yes. But we’re not going to have much time.” Ronin slung the base rifle over his shoulder, keeping the weapon he’d picked up from thegearhead. It would do until it was dry. He approached Mercy, lowering the barrel.
There was an almost palpable weight to her gaze as she regarded him. “You understand what you’re doing, Ronin? The potential cost of it?”
He nodded and glanced over his shoulder as the remainder of Alpha Team approached. Gently, Ronin placed a hand on Mercy’s arm and guided her aside, and they watched as soldiers filed into the reception area. The space, which had once seemed overly large given the limited staff and functionality of the facility, was soon overcrowded. The temperature increased by two and three-tenths degrees.
Somewhere outside, the ominous wail of an alarm echoed across the early morning sky.
“We need to move fast, people,” Maul said. “Defensive positions, weapons free. We don’t know how many are going to come or what they’ll be packing, but we will not let them through these doors. Understood?”
Deep in Ronin’s programming, something stirred—a flicker across his circuits, a sense of familiarity, the impossible feeling that he’d been here and done this all before.
This wasn’t a scrap run in the Dust or a standoff with reavers. This was the purpose for which he’d been reprogrammed, for which his first life had been erased.
This was war.
“Yes, Sergeant!” the soldiers replied in unison.
Ronin looked at Mercy. “Which way to the stairs?”
Mercy pointed to the west of the entrance. “Some places are cluttered on the upper floors. Old equipment and furnishings, mostly.”
“Go back into the repair room. It should be deep enough inside to be safe from any gunfire.”
She nodded, lips dropping into a frown, and lightly touched Ronin’s shoulder. “Be careful. He won’t stop until you’re all deactivated, or he’s just a heap of spare parts.”
Ronin briefly watched her walk down the pristine hallway before returning his attention to Maul. Most of the soldiers had dispersed to more advantageous positions. A small group of them remained, moving the seats and desk to barricade the entrance.
The siren continued to blare.
Was Lara all right? The fact that he hadn’t heard gunshots fromelsewhere in town should’ve comforted him, but he couldn’t shake off his worry.
Need to focus. That is how I can help her now.
“Where do you want me, Sergeant?” Ronin asked.
“A window on one of the upper floors. We’ll hold this room, but if you’re half as quick as you seem to be, I don’t think many of them will make it this far.”
“Here’s hoping.”
As Maul and another synth pushed a row of heavy tandem chairs into place, Ronin found the stairs. He took them three at a time, ascending to the fourth floor.
Dozer and two human soldiers, Jensen and Ramirez, were already in position. The humans stood at two narrow windows, with Dozer at the large, circular window in between them. Ronin ran his optics over the objects piled in the room—filing cabinets, chairs, old desks, and cardboard boxes that looked like they’d crumble at the slightest touch, all blanketed in a thick layer of dust. Leaning up against the boxes was a long, weatherworn sign, its words faded but legible.
The Price of Freedom is Visible Here.
