Rogue(27)

“I’m starting to accept that,” she said. “I knew it intellectually.”

“Yeah, it’s different in practice.” I sat up.

Shit, that hurt.

“I think my ribs are still messed up.”

“Probably,” she said. “We need to get you to a clinic.”

“It has to wait. Here and now that’s an identifying feature of the suspect. Wait a few days and we go somewhere else. I’ll get by on painkillers.”

“That’s not smart,” she said.

“This is combat,” I replied.

She looked worried, but nodded. I could tell she didn’t agree.

“I was able to get on stage during the confusion,” she said.

“Yes?”

“You did cut him. I have a blood sample. One little drop they didn’t see at once.”

“You are increasingly trif at this,” I said. She smiled again. I added, “Don’t get cocky, though. That’s a fast way down.”

“Understood,” she said. “I’ve acquired enough tracking gear so we can do a better trace, but we’ll need to drive around.”

“Then let’s drive. Remember they’ll be doing the same.”

She nodded, and changed outfits. Mercifully, I was doped and getting used to it.

“I do need the ribs fixed,” I admitted.

“I know you do,” she said. “I’ll find a distant clinic.”

“We don’t have time.”

“If you die, the mission’s a scrub.”

She was right about that.

I collapsed into the car—a Ford this time—and she drove. I managed to stay with it, but it hurt like nothing had before. He’d caught something there.

I said, “These multiple phones are a hassle. I wish my implant transceiver still worked.”

She said, “I could have come up with something for that before we left.”

“I thought they’d been dumped due to leakage.” Great. That thing still worked?

“Dumped due to compromise of frequency and limited power. Tech has changed. I could run a modern phone into it. If I’d known.”

“Well, crap. Sorry.” I wish I’d known.

She said, “The new implants are better. Lower profile and improved scramble.”

“Also secret enough I wasn’t aware.”

“With respect, I suggested to the boss we use someone younger and more up to date.”

“There’d be advantages to that,” I said. “I’m not sure they’re enough.”

We were quiet for a bit.

At least this wasn’t Earth. We left the metroplex and it got dark and quiet fast. The surface changed from highway to road. An hour later we pulled into a smaller town, and on the south edge was an all hours clinic.

We walked in through the lit entrance, and she pulled out more ID. “I have your wallet, honey,” she said. I didn’t have to feign the pain and appreciation.

“What happened?” the duty nurse asked.

“We were backpacking and he fell onto a stump this morning. Showered and changed and the twit tried to get through it with painkillers and OTC.”

I found it easy to look sheepish and hurt.

They put me in a chair, and in twenty minutes I was ultrasounded, X-rayed, taped, tapped and full of painkillers that let my brain mostly engage. I had a slight piercing and pneumothorax from a rib. He’d hit me good.

There was no bill. We’d paid an insurance charge with our entry visa. I couldn’t recall if that ID had been covered, or if they’d do the books later and get a null. This ID was going away in ten minutes, though.

“Go easy for a couple of days, Mr. Carn, and make sure to follow up with your own practitioner. You will need additional treatment to make sure it heals straight.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” I looked at Silver and said, “I guess we’ll have to take the floater ride instead of hiking up the hill.”

We made it to the car, and I did feel significantly better with a valve in my side and the ribs straightened. I would take it easy for a couple of days anyway. I had to track Randall to wherever he was.

I felt guilty about resting, but I had to. Pain, fatigue, medication and age conspired to drop me comatose where I reclined as Silver drove. I woke enough to be nauseated and groggy as I walked in a haze to a room, then collapsed carefully on the bed to curl up on my good side.

I was so out of it, I remember waking up to see Silver stripped nude, toning her skin. I closed my eyes and when I woke again it was hours later. I realized I’d missed the show. Not that it would have done me any good.

I heard Silver say, “So that stuff destroys your short term-memory.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you told me the story of how you got kicked three times, though the tellings were consistent enough to make you a credible eye witness if you ever get called.”