Sword of Minerva (The Guild Wars Book 10) by Mark Wandrey (great books for teens TXT) 📕

of years ago before the Three Songs came about.” He stopped. Where did that come from?

“Precisely what I mean; what good can come of it?”

“On Earth, religion led to both Dark Ages, and some of the greatest periods of enlightenment for our species’ history. It is, without a doubt, a double-edged sword. So I guess the answer is, I don’t have an answer. To some, it gives a reason to hate; for others, it gives a reason to hope; and for still more, it gives a reason for…everything.”

Dakkar listened patiently as Sato explained, slowly catching bits of seaweed and consuming it.

“Can you tell me about how we met?”

“Not yet,” Dakkar said.

“Yeah, you’re Nemo’s bud, all right. Why not?”

“Because we decided to wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“If I told you, it would spoil the surprise.”

If Sato hadn’t known Wrogul don’t have lips, he would have sworn the alien had an ear-to-ear grin. Someone knocked on the door.

* * * * *

Chapter Ten

Rick wasn’t going anywhere; he was just pissed. Right in the middle of the confrontation with the alien—religion being the issue, of course—he’d remembered his childhood, starting with Sunday School and proceeding into early religious school. When his father had left the picture, his mother couldn’t afford the school anymore, which was when he went to public school and met…

“Son of a bitch,” he snarled as he walked. “I can’t remember a friend from my childhood, but I remember Sunday School?” Someone walking the opposite direction missed a step and gawked at him as Rick stomped past.

Rick tried to remember as much as he could as he wandered. He recalled how he’d largely stopped going to church after growing into his teens. How his mother had been so disappointed when he’d taken an interest in becoming a mercenary. What else could he do? He was smarter than average, with no drive for a particular science or trade. What he did have was physical ability. The thoughts of whatever religion he’d had ended at his leaving for training.

“Take this,” his mother had said, holding out a golden medallion.

“Your Saint Christopher medal,” Rick said in confusion. “The one grandpa gave you before he died?”

“Yes,” she said, taking his hand and pressing it into his palm.

“But…I don’t know if I—”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said, closing his hand over it. “He believes in you.”

“I wonder where the medal is?” Rick wondered aloud. Destroyed on a Winged Hussars ship? Had he had it with him when he died, so it was only atoms? In some anonymous box of personal items back in New Warsaw? “I guess it doesn’t really matter. Not like it did me any good.”

He was about to turn a corner when his armor’s automatic systems stopped him in his tracks. A threat alarm was going off. He backed up to put the brick building to his right between the perceived threat and himself, then evaluated it. A drone of some kind, sweeping down a side street. What was the chance of a surveillance drone in Tuxtla Gutiérrez? Less than zero.

A pair of young men had been playing a game with sticks in the street, and they’d stopped to gawk at him. Rick lifted his index finger over his mouth and said, “Shhhh.” Their eyes bugged out, and they ran. Subtle, he thought.

Since his armor was literally covered in sensors, he didn’t have to do the classic ‘head around the corner’ maneuver to look. Rick just held his hand around the corner. The sensor data wasn’t dense, but he didn’t need much. What he got was like a wireframe drawing in black and white of the street, people, cars, and the drone in question.

The drone was a block away, hovering around a box truck. The truck was surprisingly similar to the one they’d driven across Central America in, which immediately caught his attention. A pair of people were gesturing at the drone, which took no notice of them. Since he wasn’t the center of the drone’s interest, Rick moved around the corner so he could get a better view of it.

<Type 19 Zuul Surveillance Drone>

Rick looked at the specs for the drone. It was capable of independent operation for 96 hours or more and could cover 2,500 kilometers. It used a tiny nuclear decay battery and could carry a variety of payloads. This one appeared to have a satellite uplink, as well as a small weapon he couldn’t identify. This wasn’t the sort of thing you found in rural southern Mexico. He doubted the government here could afford to field them. His pinplants said they ran upwards of 20,000 credits apiece, but also required a service cart for every six, and those ran another 5,000 credits.

Maybe the Republic could have these, Rick thought. Or Sato’s ex-girlfriend? She seemed to be tied into the planet’s intelligence assets.

The two people were a man and a women who’d climbed out of the box truck. It had markings indicating it was from a farm. The model looked identical to the one he’d bought that was parked back at the hotel. Uh, oh. Even a block away, Rick could hear the man screaming at the drone and making rude gestures. He clearly wasn’t happy about something. Rick took a closer look at the truck and saw its front tire was smoldering. The drone must have shot it out.

The drone continued to hover in front of the truck, not moving. The man had had enough; he stooped over and picked up a rock. A bolt of electricity arced out and hit the man, who dropped like a felled tree. The woman screamed.

“That’s enough,” Rick said and raised his arm. The lasers contained in his arm weren’t powerful. They were, however, precise, and invisible to the naked eye. The 250-kilowatt infrared laser hit the drone directly in one