H-One.”
Database information came out of my earplugs. An H-1’s grenade is filled with Neurotoxin nerve gas and shrapnel.
“Do H-One’s always frighten them away?” I blinked.
Boma replied, “Sometimes. A month ago, after we reached the Cres supply depot, we climbed out of my giag and heard a swarm coming. A guard fired an H-One, the only one we have. Most of the Oiins took off, but the rest of them stung three out of seven guards. All three died in a few minutes.”
I grimaced. “That’s horrible.”
Boma coughed. “Yes. We finally killed the remaining Oiins with flamethrowers. Luckily, there wasn’t much wind. Two of those guards were my friends. I sent the bad news to their mothers.”
I paused. “Why don’t you have more H-Ones?”
“Three months ago, I asked Lyso and Raui to buy more. They said they’d think about it. Several times after that, I made the same request. Earlier this week, in an email, Lyso mentioned that they’re on his weapons-to-buy list. I’ll believe him when the H-Ones are delivered.
“Let’s face it, anyone who stays here is living on borrowed time. We need more guards and weapons and better roads, along with a lot of other stuff. I have to fix the giag because they didn’t hire a mechanic. This is a shitty place.”
I rubbed my face, nervous. “I assume you’re being paid well.”
Boma scowled. “You better believe it. If I last four more months, I’ll go back to Icir. Even if I find some low paying job, I won’t have worry too much about money. I can spend more time with my sons.”
All of us hopped inside the giag, Boma and I in the front, everyone else in the back. He started the engine and we drove off.
We passed what looked like eucalyptus groves—until thorns shot out of the trees. They bounced off the hood.
Boma gasped in horror. “I’ve never seen Mus Nantus trees do that until now. Just what we need, another problem!”
Within moments, thorns covered the road and hood. The giag began shaking as it went over them.
Behind me, a guard muttered, “It’s a good thing we’re inside this cab.”
Another guard cursed, “Ank. I’m gonna destroy that Mus.”
A translation, recorded information, came out of my earplugs. Ank is Tiel excrement.
Behind me, a window hummed as it rolled down. I heard a click—the guard had attached a grenade to his rifle. The weapon discharged. Bam!
Sixty feet beyond, a Mus Nantus blew apart, hit by the grenade.
Boma announced, “Direct hit!”
A guard chuckled. “That was fun.”
Blam, Blam, Blam! More trees disintegrated.
Boma called out, “You’d better stop. Otherwise, we’ll run out of ammunition.”
Not far beyond the right and left shoulders, there were large Zeeo Xutus trees, species with orange boomerang-shaped fruit on them. They stank.
A guard complained, “It smells like ank.” Within seconds, all of us started coughing, reacting to toxic fumes.
Boma choked. “Mist is coming out of those Zeeo Xutus.” He vomited. In an instant, the giag veered left, speeding toward the shoulder.
I jabbed one hand over my sleeve. The helmet rose out of the collar, then my face-mask closed. I slid across the seat, toward Boma, then shoved my hand through holographic text. The giag turned and went back onto the road.
Boma stopped vomiting and murmured in a raspy voice, “I’ll take over.” He stuck his hand inside holographic text. The giag accelerated and shook harder as we drove over tiny snakes on the road.
I returned to my original position.
Behind me, I heard the guards retch. Both of them started hacking, clearing their throats. The cab smelled like stomach bile.
“Boma, where is your helmet?” I glanced at him, worried.
“It’s inside my collar. It’s broken.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
He paused, a fearful expression on his face. “It might be the software. I’m not sure.”
“Is every guard having that problem with their helmet?” I rubbed my chin, surprised.
“Many of them
Database information came out of my earplugs. An H-1’s grenade is filled with Neurotoxin nerve gas and shrapnel.
“Do H-One’s always frighten them away?” I blinked.
Boma replied, “Sometimes. A month ago, after we reached the Cres supply depot, we climbed out of my giag and heard a swarm coming. A guard fired an H-One, the only one we have. Most of the Oiins took off, but the rest of them stung three out of seven guards. All three died in a few minutes.”
I grimaced. “That’s horrible.”
Boma coughed. “Yes. We finally killed the remaining Oiins with flamethrowers. Luckily, there wasn’t much wind. Two of those guards were my friends. I sent the bad news to their mothers.”
I paused. “Why don’t you have more H-Ones?”
“Three months ago, I asked Lyso and Raui to buy more. They said they’d think about it. Several times after that, I made the same request. Earlier this week, in an email, Lyso mentioned that they’re on his weapons-to-buy list. I’ll believe him when the H-Ones are delivered.
“Let’s face it, anyone who stays here is living on borrowed time. We need more guards and weapons and better roads, along with a lot of other stuff. I have to fix the giag because they didn’t hire a mechanic. This is a shitty place.”
I rubbed my face, nervous. “I assume you’re being paid well.”
Boma scowled. “You better believe it. If I last four more months, I’ll go back to Icir. Even if I find some low paying job, I won’t have worry too much about money. I can spend more time with my sons.”
All of us hopped inside the giag, Boma and I in the front, everyone else in the back. He started the engine and we drove off.
We passed what looked like eucalyptus groves—until thorns shot out of the trees. They bounced off the hood.
Boma gasped in horror. “I’ve never seen Mus Nantus trees do that until now. Just what we need, another problem!”
Within moments, thorns covered the road and hood. The giag began shaking as it went over them.
Behind me, a guard muttered, “It’s a good thing we’re inside this cab.”
Another guard cursed, “Ank. I’m gonna destroy that Mus.”
A translation, recorded information, came out of my earplugs. Ank is Tiel excrement.
Behind me, a window hummed as it rolled down. I heard a click—the guard had attached a grenade to his rifle. The weapon discharged. Bam!
Sixty feet beyond, a Mus Nantus blew apart, hit by the grenade.
Boma announced, “Direct hit!”
A guard chuckled. “That was fun.”
Blam, Blam, Blam! More trees disintegrated.
Boma called out, “You’d better stop. Otherwise, we’ll run out of ammunition.”
Not far beyond the right and left shoulders, there were large Zeeo Xutus trees, species with orange boomerang-shaped fruit on them. They stank.
A guard complained, “It smells like ank.” Within seconds, all of us started coughing, reacting to toxic fumes.
Boma choked. “Mist is coming out of those Zeeo Xutus.” He vomited. In an instant, the giag veered left, speeding toward the shoulder.
I jabbed one hand over my sleeve. The helmet rose out of the collar, then my face-mask closed. I slid across the seat, toward Boma, then shoved my hand through holographic text. The giag turned and went back onto the road.
Boma stopped vomiting and murmured in a raspy voice, “I’ll take over.” He stuck his hand inside holographic text. The giag accelerated and shook harder as we drove over tiny snakes on the road.
I returned to my original position.
Behind me, I heard the guards retch. Both of them started hacking, clearing their throats. The cab smelled like stomach bile.
“Boma, where is your helmet?” I glanced at him, worried.
“It’s inside my collar. It’s broken.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
He paused, a fearful expression on his face. “It might be the software. I’m not sure.”
“Is every guard having that problem with their helmet?” I rubbed my chin, surprised.
“Many of them
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