Tasìa popped the thumb-sized flashbang into the gas tank, she screwed the cap back on, and hauled ass. When she squatted to take cover, the initial catalyst made a muffled implosive noise.

Tasìa felt the neoPalm vibrate in the back pocket of her trousers. At first, she let it continue as it felt nice on her sore rump, but then she reconsidered, it could be from any number of individuals to whom she needed to talk.

Annebél left her a text message.

Can you meet me back at my place? Raúl and Jún-Jún are having a brothers only heart to heart memorial service this evening.

Tasìa looked up as she heard a sizzling and popping noise. When the explosion occurred, in a sudden white flash, the underfloor panels, the enclosure grid, and the fuselage flew up the air.

The tires and interior caught fire.

Now it fully blazed. Tasìa had siphoned two gallons of gasoline from the tank and she soaked the pile of bodies she had heaped together inside the vehicle.

Unfortunately, the dead assassins had no documents, billfolds, or mobile PAs to steal.

It made a certain sense. They got their commands directly from the satellite. All the other factors were extraneous variables, unnecessary for programmed agents to have in their possession.

She did acquire several boxes of rounds, and the Škorpion. It had the appearance of the classic Eastern Block machine pistol of the 1950s, but refurbished with modern materials and platform build options.

It had the potential of becoming the new love of her life.

Tasìa jerked her head in a double-take as she caught movement from the corner of her eye. One of the squat-legged drones puttered noisily as it shot roaming laser beam sensors at the flaming wreckage.

Time to split.

Tasìa texted back to Annebél.

Just wrapping up here. I'll be over in fifteen minutes.

One of the green laser beams crawled up the length of her leg. It had some heat to it.

Shit, she thought, what if it can increase that beam up to weapons-grade?

It made little sense to do so, though, adding a projectile base turret to a drone would always be a more efficient option on small drones.

Tasìa ducked beneath a set of bins and peeked through cross rails. There was nothing indicative of projectile barrels on the squat-legged drone's carapace.

Four sensors sprouted out from rotator wheels attached to a larger pair of side appendages that consisted of vertical and horizontal rotators somewhat resembling gyroscopes.

Then the beams retreated and focused together just a few feet in front of the drone. The beams turned from green to red as they did so.

What in the Seven Hells is it doing?

Soon came the answer. Sparks flew at a rapid rate. It was cutting through the gate.

Tasìa darted over to the furthest row of bins where she kept the TAC-50 sniper rifle.

Tasìa had three .50s left in the magazine, and one in the chamber. The rest of the ammo, she had tucked away in a leg bag attached to her Virago after the El Hoyo firefight.

As she prepared her rifle, Tasìa heard a piercing noise and she smelled the sulfurous smelt of gravel being incinerated. The lasers focused on a line working towards her.

Tasìa backed up from the corner supports and ran further behind the row of bins. The laser sliced through the support beams. An entire trough full of glass bottles came loudly crashing down.

She immediately threw herself on the ground, getting as flat as she possibly could. Tasìa crawled to the far end where the support beams held in place still.

What she had witnessed boggled her knowledge of physics. Sure, a laser drilling through fence wire was not only feasible but such welding bots were not even that uncommon.

But a laser beam focus that was still that effective over a hundred and twenty yards? The energy expenditure was exponentially increased to drain any battery it possessed.

How was it accomplishing this?

Tasìa decided it was worth the trouble to investigate. She climbed up the cross beams and she peeked over.

And she nearly lost her head, doing so. From a second squat-legged drone, a four laser beam focus swept in an arc above the bins.

Tasìa dropped back down and flat against the ground once more.

Even so, she still managed to discover her answer. When she poked her head up, the first drone was covered in a yellow haze that swirled around it. Two funnels from that yellow haze formed near the bottom of the drone's sides.

The drone had first ionized the air around it. The surrounding nanospores then became neutralized. Now, the drone was sucking them in and somehow converting the nanospores into energy.

She had heard in her college lecture the nanospore explained this way. Inside its structure was a spiral spring wound up to a near-maximum kinetic energy potentiate.

Simple enough in concept, her lecturer from long ago explained, but the real mystery is what kind of energy source could wind up the nano-sized spiral springs in the first place to produce such effecient compression.

A five-gallon bucket of nanospores, at their current atmospheric concentration, mind you, was the equivalent of twelve hours in the operation of a standard-sized nuclear reactor supplying fifty thousand homes with electricity in its energy offset.

What the squat-legged drone was doing was illegal by the edicts of the Salvage. For good reason, if the energy conversion were to malfunction, a big mushroom cloud of a boom would be one likely result.

Tasìa concluded it was a bad idea to shoot them in their carapace assembly. Nuts!

Tasìa flipped on the neoPalm and texted a message to Felicité.

I'm holed up fighting off laser welding squat-legged drones equipped with rogue nanospore conversion technology. Help!

Tasìa sent it. Seconds later, she sent another text. Pleeeease!

As she waited, Tasia reminded herself she had an appointment to keep. She sent another text to Annebél.

Slight delay. I should still make it pretty soonish.

Tasìa heard a shuffling squeaking sound accompanied by the crunching noise of something walking on gravel. The drone was just around the corner. Tasìa had to act now though she felt her energy from the evenings excursions was now entirely spent.

One more time around, might do it.

Tasìa jumped to her feet in a squat. She tightened her abdomen and breathed in just as she thrust up into the air several feet. It was enough to send her flying up to where she could grab the top crossbar on the support beam and pull herself much further up in the air.

She cleared the entire bin. A four laser focus beam began its sweep. It would cut across, but fortunately well beneath her feet, and it was too late for the beam to adjust its route.

Tasìa grabbed the TAC-50 rifle strapped to her back, and she shouldered it. Aiming squarely at the connector between the rotators that the laser sensors were fastened upon, Tasìa took her shot.

The rotators were sheared by the bullet into four halves. The laser sensors collapsed. Tasìa heard a sizzling noise to her left. Still in the air, now near the apex of her ascent, she twisted her torso around.

A four laser focus burned through the bin trough to reach her.

She took a second shot and incapacitated that drone in turn.

As Tasìa considered the best angle to somersault down, a third squat-legged drone caught her eye. It was over by the plank where she shot up her bottles.

A four laser focus point smacked her in the chest. The jolt from it felt like the cold swell of an intense heat just before it flares out throughout the entire body. But as it began to roar through her, it dampened and flowed evenly through her nerves.

She was thrown back several feet and landed smack on her ass on the grounds of the lot, near a back fence that kept heavy vegetation at bay.

How the fuck am I still alive?

The energy of the bolt still coiled in her. She grasped the gravel with both hands in an attempt to lift herself up only to be thwarted by wave after wave of energy leaving her body.

She started to convulse involuntarily as the waves of energy thrashed out ceaselessly. Her loins became engulfed in a burning pain, and steam rose from her urethra.

As she faded from consciousness the steaming piss rose up in a streaming geyser spraying out for several feet straight through the fabric of her trousers.

Even through all of the pain, her last conscious thought as she watched the waterworks on display was, I have to admit, that looks kind of cool.

Something warm to the touch rolled back and forth over her belly. Tasìa tried to move her legs but she couldn't. Something heavy incapacitated them.

Tasìa opened her eyes. A squat-legged drone sat on top of her thighs.

"Oh, God," Tasìa gasped as she saw that the thing rolling up and down her belly was a singular laser beam.

Her neoPalm rang out its little folk tune. Someone wanted to talk to her. She answered it.

"Hello."

Felicité giggled before she spoke. "So, you are impervious to lasers are you? Hell of a trick to have up your sleave."

Tasìa shrugged.

"My guess is it was set to some kind of force blast."

"If that is your guess, then you would be wrong. Look to your right to the side of the friendly drone."

Tasìa leaned her head. What she saw broke her heart. The barrel of her TAC-50 had been split and melded twistedly together.

"Ah, man. Hell of a thing to happen to something so perfect."

"Tasìa, you look like you are about to cry."

She shook her head.

"Haven't got time for the tears. How long was I out?"

"No more than five minutes. I was in the middle of trying to gain control of the bot when it lined the beams up and shot you. I watched you through its camera. It looked like you were performing air-born ballet at double speed. Thought you were dead, but the beam did not even penetrate."

Tasìa lifted up on her elbows.

"Sorry for the scare. Truly. Could you move the bot so I can get up?"

Felicité giggled. If Tasìa didn't know the saintly Argentinian, she would have called it an evil, smirking laugh.

"I'm afraid I can't do that just yet. Now that I have seen those boobs of yours . . . I'll need a second peek."

Tasìa eyes widened.

"Oh . . ."

In Ward Nueve, Felicité never associated with the other women. If she was sexually active Tasìa would most likely have heard about it. As far as the Argentinian's preferences, that speculation never occurred to Tasìa one way or the other.

Felicité giggled. "You might want to see what I am seeing."

The bots sensor eye rolled down.

Tasìa looked down to her chest. There was a palm-sized frayed hole in both her T-shirt and sports bra.

She pushed both of the garments up and ripped them. When her boobs flopped out, a purple bruise between them on her sternum got her attention.

"Ouch," said Felicité. "That's going to hurt come morning."