Limitless Evolution As a Snake

Thirty minutes was plenty of time to leave the frontier and become somebody else’s problem, which made staying an especially annoying decision. I was looking at the road back to Ami when Lukas asked how many vehicles the camp would need, already assuming we weren’t taking it.

”I haven’t agreed to spend my afternoon arguing with artillery, and I’d like that noted before we start volunteering my body as equipment,” I said. Bridget was counting available seats with the shelter nurse, so my objection reached exactly the level of importance it deserved.

Hollis arrived with the two drivers detained in her patrol truck and a radio that wouldn’t stop asking why she’d interfered with company transport. She handed them over to the shelter’s security staff, then removed the bronze company patch from her shoulder without removing her rank bars.

”The patch is Rusk’s contract, but the boundary post still answers to the city, and those orders don’t cover shelling families,” she said. She called the frontier liaison directly and gave the firing reference while somebody on Rusk’s channel threatened her with a tribunal.

[System: She’s told the captain where to stick the contract, mate; give the useful soldiers a chance before you start treating every uniform like a bloody buffet wrapper.]

I’d find restraint considerably more relaxing if the alternative wasn’t polishing a fucking cannon while we discussed my personal growth. Hollis pointed to three soldiers following her orders and said they could drive, direct traffic and hold the camp entrance, but they couldn’t stop a shell by explaining jurisdiction to it.

Rook answered Bridget’s call from Ami and confirmed that the clearance order was being challenged through the proper command. She couldn’t promise the objection would arrive before the first shot, which was why Hollis began moving vehicles instead of treating the call as a rescue.

Iona and Niall stayed with the nine workers at the independent shelter. The two delivery workers we’d freed at the gala were still safely in the city, and nobody needed to be shoved back into danger merely because I had learned to count them as part of a mission.

The camp had more people than our small convoy could carry in one trip. Pike knew where an old passenger bus stood behind the ration shed, but its owner had been refused fuel after declining Rusk’s relocation charge, which made it another expensive object in desperate need of somebody committing a sensible crime.

”We can steal fuel without stealing the bus, which should improve our relationship with at least one vehicle owner,” I said. Pike agreed to check its engine while Lukas collected the loading plan and stopped pretending his ribs were interested in carrying anything heavy.

Old Mate offered Keep the Gate Open, worth 3,000 EXP and fifteen IP for getting the camp residents to the independent ridge shelter before the first strike. He stressed that the reward required people reaching safety, not merely getting excited about a heroic departure.

[System: No bonus for arriving with half a bus, champ, and no counting an empty seat as a rescued customer. You’re running transport now, so try remembering the bloody passengers.]

If this becomes a permanent career, I’m charging extra for anyone who asks whether we’re nearly there. I accepted while Bridget borrowed a marker and drew the camp’s footpaths across the back of a flattened catering box.

She marked the injured residents, the main gate and the routes wide enough for a bus without trusting any plan that required everyone to sprint. Watching her plan safe routes for people who couldn’t run made me want her company long after the dress came off my list of reasons. Old Mate chose that moment to mutter, [System: Careful, champ, you’re developing taste beyond a neckline.]

Lukas offered to take the roofline and signal when the convoy was ready, but stopped halfway through his own sentence. He asked for two radios instead, gave one to Hollis and kept the other beside the bus route where he could direct people without leaving the ground.

”That sounded dangerously like experience, and I’d hate to discover we’ve been employing you above your usual skill level,” I told him. He said eight eyes were useful for traffic even when the rest of him had been temporarily downgraded.

We returned to the camp with a fuel container, a recovery truck and enough empty seats to begin loading the people who needed help first. Hollis’s guards opened the gate despite the original sentry complaining that we were making him choose between conflicting orders.

Bridget told him to choose whichever one didn’t end with children being shelled. He opened the barrier without another speech, leaving the guard moving faster than my threats had managed. I made a private note to avoid disappointing that woman.

The bus owner wanted someone to promise he’d get his vehicle back, which seemed reasonable after the morning’s business practices. I offered to pay for the fuel and damage we caused rather than claiming gratitude would cover his next repair bill. He gave Pike the keys and started folding the rear seats to make room for people who needed to lie down.

Pike got the bus engine turning while Lukas placed bright cloth markers along the loading lane. I stayed above the lowest roof and watched for anything following the camp’s old bait scent, keeping my thermal sight on exposed gaps rather than expecting it to see through buildings.

The quarry beast remained below the patrol ridge, but a different movement caught my attention on the protected road. A squat armoured unit rolled out from behind a concrete divider and unfolded a gun mount aimed directly across the convoy’s planned exit.

Hollis called its operator and ordered the road opened for civilians. The reply came from an automatic speaker, announcing a containment boundary and warning that any unapproved vehicle would be stopped before crossing the marked line.

The bus had barely reached the gate when the mount tracked its windscreen with a little red light. Behind it, the only other paved exit lay under the first artillery marker, leaving us a transport plan, a running engine and nowhere safe to drive.