use?”
“Knowing that can help us move forward,” he countered. “Eliminating what doesn’t work helps as much as discovering what will.”
Marshall murmured something, but I was too busy shaking my head at Ryder to listen. I tossed a bit of whiskey over my tongue, then swallowed its burn. “You’re both insane. You’re chasing after… nothings.”
“Perhaps, but maybe not. What the professor has found so far says otherwise. If it’s possible, we have to try, Kai.”
“No offense to Professor Marshall, but humans breed like fleas. You’re just scared they’re going to overrun you.” I smirked.
“We can’t afford to lose the elfin, Stalker Gracen.” The professor set her empty glass down and pierced me with a look sharp enough to stab me in the chest. “Our world has changed since the Merge, but one thing remains the same—all lives are important, as are all cultures, even those alien to us. We can give one another so much—elfin and humans alike—but first we must truly understand what has happened. We must understand history or are doomed to repeat it, so the saying goes.”
“And Groom Lake might hold some answers,” Ryder added. “Isn’t that worth a run up there?”
“Not like I’m picking up eggs from the farm there, Lordship. It’s several days up and then back again,” I reminded him. “More if we run into trouble.”
“With you, there’s always trouble, Kai,” Ryder replied. “But whatever you run into, you won’t be alone. I’ll be going with you and Professor Marshall.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m beginning to wonder if they’ve got babysitting listed under my Stalker license.” I refilled my glass then saluted them both, hoping my next gulp of whiskey would somehow set me on fire, or perhaps I would choke to death on my own tongue. “Well, here’s to a short, profitable ride. Hope we all live to see the end of it, and may I not succumb to any urge to kill the lot of you.”
Five
“YOU’RE GOING to need big .” Sparky scratched under her long braided hair. “And badass enough no one’s going to want to pry it open. That kind of thing’s going to cost you something pretty, like your left nut.”
“I do not want to know why you think my left anything would be pretty enough to buy a long-distance rig.” I jerked my thumb back at the blond sidhe behind me. “But he says he’s paying, so load me up.”
There were a lot of things to do before gallivanting off into the wilds of Nevada, things to minimize my impending death, and Sparky was my best bet to make it happen. A former petrochemical engineer, she’d hightailed it off to the outer edges of San Diego’s borders, setting up a refuel outpost for Stalkers and travelers needing gasoline and a place to store their city-banned vehicles. In a lot of ways, Sparky resembled Professor Marshall, lean and wiry with a calculating gleam in her pale gray eyes, except with a lot less crazy.
Sparky was as wrinkled, windblown, and heat baked as the hills she’d found sanctuary in, both toasted brown from the glaring sun and bleached white from age. Scrawls of mesquite clotted the upper ranges surrounding Sparky’s Landing, the trees’ tangled branches thick with small wind-tossed tumbleweeds and the occasional condor. Tall broken-spine pines were a break from the warm breeze kicking up dust devils at our feet, while also providing long stretches of shade for Sparky’s dog pack to lounge in.
I’d brought an ice chest with me, mostly to bribe Sparky into giving me a good deal on a Rover but also to get some kind of vegetable in her diet for a few days. Left to her own devices, she existed on dragonkill scraps, mostly antelope and oryx with the occasional buffalo thrown in for good measure. The dogs ate better than she did, and I’d spent most of my life couriering supplies up to the Landing just so Sparky had something to eat other than meat and peanut butter.
The zucchini, suffice it to say, were not a
“Knowing that can help us move forward,” he countered. “Eliminating what doesn’t work helps as much as discovering what will.”
Marshall murmured something, but I was too busy shaking my head at Ryder to listen. I tossed a bit of whiskey over my tongue, then swallowed its burn. “You’re both insane. You’re chasing after… nothings.”
“Perhaps, but maybe not. What the professor has found so far says otherwise. If it’s possible, we have to try, Kai.”
“No offense to Professor Marshall, but humans breed like fleas. You’re just scared they’re going to overrun you.” I smirked.
“We can’t afford to lose the elfin, Stalker Gracen.” The professor set her empty glass down and pierced me with a look sharp enough to stab me in the chest. “Our world has changed since the Merge, but one thing remains the same—all lives are important, as are all cultures, even those alien to us. We can give one another so much—elfin and humans alike—but first we must truly understand what has happened. We must understand history or are doomed to repeat it, so the saying goes.”
“And Groom Lake might hold some answers,” Ryder added. “Isn’t that worth a run up there?”
“Not like I’m picking up eggs from the farm there, Lordship. It’s several days up and then back again,” I reminded him. “More if we run into trouble.”
“With you, there’s always trouble, Kai,” Ryder replied. “But whatever you run into, you won’t be alone. I’ll be going with you and Professor Marshall.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m beginning to wonder if they’ve got babysitting listed under my Stalker license.” I refilled my glass then saluted them both, hoping my next gulp of whiskey would somehow set me on fire, or perhaps I would choke to death on my own tongue. “Well, here’s to a short, profitable ride. Hope we all live to see the end of it, and may I not succumb to any urge to kill the lot of you.”
Five
“YOU’RE GOING to need big .” Sparky scratched under her long braided hair. “And badass enough no one’s going to want to pry it open. That kind of thing’s going to cost you something pretty, like your left nut.”
“I do not want to know why you think my left anything would be pretty enough to buy a long-distance rig.” I jerked my thumb back at the blond sidhe behind me. “But he says he’s paying, so load me up.”
There were a lot of things to do before gallivanting off into the wilds of Nevada, things to minimize my impending death, and Sparky was my best bet to make it happen. A former petrochemical engineer, she’d hightailed it off to the outer edges of San Diego’s borders, setting up a refuel outpost for Stalkers and travelers needing gasoline and a place to store their city-banned vehicles. In a lot of ways, Sparky resembled Professor Marshall, lean and wiry with a calculating gleam in her pale gray eyes, except with a lot less crazy.
Sparky was as wrinkled, windblown, and heat baked as the hills she’d found sanctuary in, both toasted brown from the glaring sun and bleached white from age. Scrawls of mesquite clotted the upper ranges surrounding Sparky’s Landing, the trees’ tangled branches thick with small wind-tossed tumbleweeds and the occasional condor. Tall broken-spine pines were a break from the warm breeze kicking up dust devils at our feet, while also providing long stretches of shade for Sparky’s dog pack to lounge in.
I’d brought an ice chest with me, mostly to bribe Sparky into giving me a good deal on a Rover but also to get some kind of vegetable in her diet for a few days. Left to her own devices, she existed on dragonkill scraps, mostly antelope and oryx with the occasional buffalo thrown in for good measure. The dogs ate better than she did, and I’d spent most of my life couriering supplies up to the Landing just so Sparky had something to eat other than meat and peanut butter.
The zucchini, suffice it to say, were not a
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