“Foolio gets his cigarettes, though -”
“Foolio doesn’t go crying to his little girlfriend every time he has a fit after a mission.”
Harkoff bent over and pulled the rifle from the dead man’s hands, opening the bolt to see if it was loaded.
“Put it down!”
Harkoff pointed it at Shrendig.
“Put the goddamn rifle down, you’re going to get us all killed!”
“I’m not walking off into the desert without a firearm. We’re gonna walk right in there, fifteen of those green bastards are going to up against one of us, we’re going to do this my way.”
“Over my dead mother,” Shrendig raged. “Its too heavy. You’re going to fight like a man.”
The three silhouettes scaled the giant dunes of the desert, Harkoff carrying his heavy rifle. They had driven as far as they could in the truck used to deliver them to the ruins, the driver never making it back to the city, murdered. The radiator had predictably boiled over, the engine suffocating in its own waste heat. The night froze the desert froze over within minutes of the truck breaking down, the enormous moon peering over the horizon casting its ethereal glow over the three while they made their trek on foot.
Bertrina Humphries had become the new Nelen Chancellor the moment the Malasrionese Parliament had re-assembled, representatives passing a motion [continued]