Their conversation devolves into bickering, and I take the screen Riann discarded.
Kilo has picked one of the small groups to follow… one heading toward Ilidi City.
“If I zoom in, it’s not going to make you crash is it?”
“No, dual cameras. You can’t alter what I see.”
“Good.” I focus on the car’s identification numbers. They’re designed to be visible in the dark and I capture the screen sending the information to Riann as he hangs up.
“What can you tell us about that?” I ask, knowing there’s every possibility he won’t be able to share whatever he finds.
“That doesn’t help us. According to this, that car doesn’t exist.”
“Clearly, it does,” Kilo says, pulling back the drone. The car is officially out of range. “You really need to figure out your system glitches.”
“I’ll get my guy to track it through the satellite systems and we can follow it.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I shimmy backward down the hill until I can stand, and I slap the dust off the front of me, looking at Riann. “We’ll get you fitted for one of these so you don’t have to ruin your clothes next time.”
“Hopefully, there won’t be a next time.”
When we get back to where I parked the car, Kissu stamps the dirt from his paws and jumps into the front seat.
“Don’t try to argue with him,” Kilo says, pushing Riann to the back. “Zurgles always get their way.”
True.
I yank out the panel under the command console and after a quick fishing expedition, I pull out a chunk of wires and the hard plastic plug on the end. All it takes is a twist and a tug, and that plug snaps off.
What doing?
“You like fast cars…”
With the speed limiter removed, the car will ignore the speed commands sent to it by posted signs. And with Riann in the car, I’ll be able to get away with ignoring them too.
Ten minutes later, Kilo has fallen asleep across Riann in the back and Riann’s face is pressed against the window, his breathing shallow.
Neither of them are dreaming.
Kissu sits with his front paws on the dashboard, watching the road in front of us, pumming loudly.
If he sticks around, I’ll get a car with a window he can put his head out of to feel the speed he loves so much.
“How old are you?” I ask, quietly.
Don’t know.
“How long were you with your first Sisan?”
First? Kisa? Forty-two years?He pulls his paws back and hunches, no more purring.Then, the monsters.
“Your first Sisan was a woman?”
He doesn’tthinkyes, but I feel it.Favorite. Took name. Loved.
“I’m sorry she was taken from you.”
Matan thirty? Thirty-five?
