High Flyer - Michelle Diener Page 0,61

been stabbed and may still live if you get him help. The other was hit in the head with a stick and is probably concussed. Wait--!” He stepped into the path to block it as the thin man began to rush past. “Be careful. The fumes from the TellTale after-burn seem to trigger unnecessary violence. That's why that scene around the corner looks like it does.”

Bret narrowed his eyes. “Trying to cover for yourself, Sugotti?”

Iver shook his head. “I was watching from the trees. When I went to help and felt the same rage rising up in me, I came out here for some fresh air.”

Bret put a hand on his subordinate. “He was breathing heavily when we found him. Put on a mask just in case, Baxter.”

Iver watched as the scientist--he was sure the man wasn't part of Bret's security team--found a mask in his pack and jogged around the corner.

“What are you doing here, Sugotti?”

Iver considered an answer that would keep Hana safe, and then Baxter gave a panicked shout.

“What will I find around that corner?” Bret took a step closer, his SAL aimed at Iver's chest.

“Your wounded security guards, and two others with SAL darts in them.”

Bret reared back. “There's no one conscious?”

“Your people shot a smuggler, the smugglers hit one of yours with a stick, stabbed another, and I shot the two who were left, then felt the effects of the fumes and came out here to get some clear air.”

The scientist ran back around the corner, the mask flapping around his neck.

“He's right about the fumes.” He stopped, gulping in air. “I felt like hitting Luki while I was patching him up.”

“With the mask on?” Bret asked.

Baxter shook his head. “I decided to see if he was telling the truth, so I took it off for a bit.”

Bret looked up at the sky for a moment, then breathed deeply as he focused back on Baxter.

“Run and get three others, whoever's available, and come back with two stretchers.”

Baxter looked like he wanted to argue, but with a look from Bret he gave a nod and ran off.

“One of your scientists, looking for what's powering the shield?” Iver asked.

Bret shot him a sour look. “Seems like you know more than you should.”

“Lancaster was chatty before someone blew him up.” He might as well blame it on Lancaster, rather than reveal he'd been snooping around the night before.

Bret went still. “Now why would Lancaster tell you anything?”

“He was about to kill me at the time. He didn't see any reason to hold back.”

“You killed him instead?” Bret kept the question casual.

“No. I shot him with a SAL, left him in his Dynastra, and was barely clear of it when someone blew it to bits.”

“Shit.” Bret shook his head. “Did you see who?”

“I was a bit busy dodging burning debris.”

Bret lowered the SAL to his side. “And the woman? Our prisoner until last night. What's she to you?”

Iver crossed his arms over his chest. “What woman?”

“Please. She was traveling with a man who managed to escape. Then someone frees her last night. And now here you are.” Bret nodded his head slowly. “It also explains what she was doing in the back of the lander. Somehow you suspected or knew it was coming here. You got in it with her to see if it would deliver you to the camp.”

Iver sighed. “Your friend Banyon sort of gave that away with his ranting outside the Touka City headquarters.”

Bret kicked at the stone again, this time sending it into the stand of trees, where it smacked against a trunk. “How compromised are we?”

Iver quirked his lips, lifted his shoulders. “What do you think, given I'm right here?”

“Yeah, but there's no army with you. The VSC special forces are nowhere in sight. For some reason, you chose to do this alone.”

Before Iver could answer, a loud moan came from the clearing, and Bret lifted the SAL again, used it to indicate to Iver to go first down the path.

Iver stopped before the path widened out, where the air was hopefully a little clearer, and put out an arm to stop Bret before he stepped into the open space himself.

“Fumes, remember.”

Bret took a hasty step back.

Roj had started to move, and he was holding both hands to his head, as if he could barely move it.

“Looks like he's got a headache.” Bret didn't sound too sympathetic.

“So will your people. And it's not as bad now as it was before. The breeze has cleared