The Black Tide (Outcast 3)
Jonas gave the call sign and then added, “We have an injured soldier on board and have received prior approval for approach and landing.”
“Please hold position and wait for confirmation.”
Jonas placed the scooter in hover mode and looked at me. “You’d better shift shape.”
I climbed out of the seat and moved to the rear of the vehicle, well out of the sight of anyone who might be watching us through the front windows. I didn’t want to expend too much energy on a full change, so I simply added a little to my height and then altered my face just enough so that at first glance it matched the commander’s sharp features. Then I moved back.
Jonas’s studied me for a second and then said, “That should pass. Ready?”
“As I can be.” I hesitated, my gaze sweeping the rather ominous-looking building ahead. “But my wing-it approach to planning might not be the best mode of operation right now.”
“It’s not like we have another choice.” Amusement touched his expression. “And between the two of us and our ghostly friends, I’m sure we'll figure out something.”
There are grenades in the rear locker, Bear said, his tone hopeful. I can blow more things up.
And there's also another metal bar, Cat added. It doesn't take much energy to whack heads.
I laughed, as did Jonas. It was a warm, rich sound that filled the air and momentarily broke the gathering tension.
“Echo three-two,” the metallic voice said. “Confirmation has been given. Please prepare vehicle for auto-guidance.”
Jonas pushed a few buttons and then said, “Guidance is yours, control.”
The scooter lurched slightly as the trac
tor beam latched on, and then slowly moved forward. Jonas rose and moved to the back of the scooter.
“We'd better conceal as many weapons as possible. I don't think we'll be allowed to carry within that building.”
I rose and walked over to the second carryall. “And if they have body scanners in the building?”
“Then the game will be up regardless.” His voice was blunt. “No amount of dirt and blood will hide the fact my DNA is very different to that of the RFID's owner.”
“True.” I took off my utilities belt, undid the coverall, and then strapped it back around my waist. After clipping on a number of handguns, a couple of knives, and the dart gun I’d used in the sand base, I did the coverall back up. The commander had been a much larger woman than me, so even though I now matched her height, the coverall remained loose enough that the belt and its cargo weren’t immediately obvious.
I glanced out the front windshield and saw that we were now so close to the warehouse that I could see the heaving pitting that scarred the wall’s black surface. That wasn’t weather damage; it was war, which meant this place had been around far longer than I’d presumed.
As the vehicle turned and was lifted up the wall's steep side, I reached for another handgun and offered it, butt-first, to Jonas. “You need to shoot me.”
He looked at the gun for a moment, and then at me, “Good idea. But it'd be best if we were both sporting wounds, otherwise we risk getting separated.”
He took the gun, unclipped the safety, and then aimed the weapon's nose at the fleshy part of his left arm. The bullet ripped through both the uniform and his skin in short order before burying itself in the scooter's metal side not far from the door.
As blood began to soak his sleeve, he looked at me. “Ready?”
“Shoot me in the shoulder,” I said, bracing myself against the pain that was about to hit.
“No.”
“Jonas, I can heal—”
“Yes, but we can't risk you being incapacitated for even a few minutes.”
“But a flesh wound might not get us—”
“I don't care. I'm not—”
I didn't let him finish. I simply grabbed the gun, flipped it around, and did it myself. It felt like a hammer had smashed through my shoulder and the force of it had me staggering back. I braced my good hand against the side of the scooter to steady myself, then closed my eyes and sucked in air as I battled the haze of red that momentarily threatened awareness.