obvious you’ve investigated crime scenes before,” Natalie said, her voice just above a whisper. “I thought sentinels liked to operate behind the scenes.”
“That’s a sweeping generalization,” he pointed out, most of his attention focused on the task at hand. His fingers glowed through the holo-controls, accessing the information he needed. “Do all chefs behave the same?”
“Of course not,” she agreed.
“Well, each sentinel is a distinct individual. Some choose one extremely wealthy patron and become their intergalactic limousine driver. Just like the billionaires on Earth, Sarronti elite enjoy the freedom of being able to go anywhere they want to go.”
“There you go again. How do you know what a limousine is, much less how wealthy humans behave? Just admit it. You’ve been to Earth, probably more than once.”
He glanced at her, but kept working. She kept bringing this up. He wasn’t sure why it was important to her, but clearly it was. “I’ve been to Earth numerous times. I find your cultures fascinating.”
“I knew it.” Her voice grew dangerously loud, but she self-corrected before he could remind her to be quite. “Jaron has too, hasn’t he? You probably went together.”
Slightly annoyed that his cousin would enter her mind, Salvo didn’t comment.
“Do you work for Malik? Is that why you know so much about investigating crimes?”
They were back to the original question. Conversations seemed to twist and turn whenever Natalie was involved. Her creative mind worked so differently from his regimented thinking. It was one of the things he liked about her. “I’m a private contractor with a variety of clients. My work with the military has exposed me to all sorts of crimes.”
“On Earth law enforcement is separate from the military. It seems odd to think of soldiers investigating crimes.”
He paused and looked at her. “Really? Humans have two separate groups who are armed and authorized to maintain order and apprehend criminals?”
“Their focuses are supposed to be very different. Unfortunately, there has seemed to be a sort of blurring in recent years. In my opinion, too many police units are behaving like military strike teams.”
“I’d love to hear more about this blurring, but I really need to concentrate.”
“Of course, sorry.” She stepped back and fell silent.
Responding to the hurt in her eyes, he reached over and took her hand, gently pulling her back to his side.
His response seemed to sooth her. She stood there and watched intently.
He quickly determined approximately where to target and activated his best scanner-bot. After uploading the diagram, he set the tiny drone in motion. “Find this object,” he told the bot then uploaded an image of the mystery weapon.
The bot blinked twice then lifted off, methodically scanning the building. Unlike the spider-bot, this one was designed for flight. It was fast and agile, but not as versatile as the spider-bot.
“It’s searching for the gun,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.
He nodded, but continued to work. He initialized all of the bots with digging capabilities. Flying, or even dragging, something as large as a gun through the factory was almost guaranteed to be spotted by someone. As long as the Driskys didn’t have intruder netting covering the perimeter walls, a smallish hole should go undetected long enough for them to collect Dellia and escape.
The scanner-bot easily located its target, signaling the find with a strobing light. Salvo marked the location with a digital beacon then recalled the drone. Next he defined the mission parameters for the digger team, quickly programming a rudimentary hierarchy. Each bot had just enough artificial intelligence to make them argue about how things should be done. He’d found that designating a leader generally avoided the complication and sped up the mission. It was an interesting parallel to governance. Democracies allowed the most input which made them vulnerable to corruption and inefficiency. Dictatorships were unpopular and completely dependent on the integrity of the leader, but they were fast and effective.
The scanner bot settled back into its protective compartment as he launched the six digger-bots. They swarmed the digital mark and began burrowing through the wall. “This shouldn’t take long,” he muttered, watching a diagram of their progress. “The weapons are in an open container, so I’m guessing that the room is locked.”
“Or they aren’t overly interested in maintaining the validity of their evidence.”
He glanced at her and smiled. “That’s a distinct possibility too.” The diggers reached the other side of the wall a short time later. Working together, they lifted one of the guns and pushed it through the opening. “Could you