Warden

I’m not just talking about the financial cost. We lost half of our population…”
“I didn’t say that the winning was easy,” Will told her. “The last Ganymedeans put up quite the fight. Our army gave them a chance to surrender, but they refused. They said, and I quote, they ‘would rather die than fall beneath the yoke of the High Council.’ Anyway, we lost a good number of troops, not to mention expensive war machines and transport vessels. It wasn’t hard for Europa to push us back. Our leaders were tired of war by then, and a little sickened by what we’d become, I think. Since we already had a few more centuries of water left, courtesy of the steep population drop, the High Council decided a more diplomatic approach was in order.”
“Something tells me that didn’t work out too well…” Rhea commented.
Will smiled sadly. “Negotiations are still ongoing thirty years later.”
“We’re there,” Horatio said.
Rhea turned her attention away from the surrounding buildings and gazed directly forward. The road didn’t look any different up ahead—broken skyscrapers bordering a debris-filled street. She searched for Gizmo, but the drone was nowhere in sight: it must have taken a side street somewhere.
That was when she spotted a lone sentry residing in profile next to a side road ahead. It stood with one shiny leg forward, the knee bent so as to step on the rubble pile in front of it. The golden robot held a large, body-sized pike at an angle in front of it, with the base braced against the ground. The glowing tip promised a particular nasty bite.
The head turned to follow their approach.
When they were about twenty meters away, the robot boomed in a deep voice: “State your business, Outlanders.”
“We’re salvagers,” Will said. “Business license 520439-Omega-Gamma. We have salvage to sell.”
“Hoplite Industries,” the sentry said. “You license is valid. Scanning your IDs.” It ran its gaze in turn across the three of them, the disks that served as eyes flashing as it met each of their faces. Rhea couldn’t help but flinch when those eyes flared across her own face.
The sentry tensed, tilting the pike slightly toward its body. “The cyborg’s ID has no match. Explain.”
“She’s newly registered,” Will said.
Rhea received a pop-up notice on her HUD.
Will wishes to add you to the private adhoc network Zandwich. Do you accept (Y/N)?
She accepted. In the upper right of her HUD, three bars appeared, with the word Zandwich beside them.
“All newly registered cyborgs are automatically added to the main database at the time of registration,” the sentry intoned. “Assuming it was done by an approved registrar.”
“Apparently that step was missed…” Will said. “If you wish, we can leave her behind while we conduct our business in the settlement. It’s all the same to me if you want to babysit a new cyborg. I should warn you, though: this one likes to talk. A lot.”
She heard Horatio’s voice in her head. You think he’s going to buy it?
Of course, Will sent. Sentry robots like these, they hate talking.
The sentry glanced at Rhea, and she had the distinct impression the robot was narrowing its eyes, though that wasn’t possible given their flat, disk-like nature. Finally: “That will not be necessary. I will insert the necessary records in the main database. Given name?”
“Rhea,” Will said.
“Surname?”
“Doesn’t have one,” Will said. “She’s Arabic.”
“Arabs have multiple surnames,” the sentry said.
“Yeah, but not her tribe, dude,” Will said.
The sentry cocked its head. “And which tribe is that?”
“I can’t pronounce it,” Will said. “Shaheeyd wa’la man. I’m sending the spelling now.”
That sounds made up, Horatio sent.
The sentry hesitated, then: “Occupation?”
“Salvager,” Will replied.
A few more tense seconds ticked past. Perhaps that was the time needed to add the new records to the database the sentry spoke of.
“Do you plan to enter Aradne?” the sentry asked.
“No,” Will replied. “We have business only in Rust Town.”
“You may proceed,” the sentry said.
Will led the way, followed by Horatio and Rhea.
The sentry’s head swiveled to follow them as they turned onto the side street. The robot seemed to give Rhea extra special scrutiny as she passed, but that was probably only her imagination.
“Damn thing gives me the creeps,” she muttered.
I was wondering when you’d figure out how to use the adhoc network, Will commented.
She realized she hadn’t actually spoken the words aloud, but rather over their shared connection.
How do I disconnect? she sent.
Already sick of having us in your head? Will asked. There’s a mute button. If you concentrate on the network bars, a popup will appear showing those who are connected.
She did that, and the popup indeed activated. She saw that she could mute Horatio and Will individually. She decided to keep them active for the time being.
As she stepped onto the side road, she spotted Gizmo overhead. The drone hovered in place, waiting for them.
Ahead, in the middle of the street, she could see several four-meter tall Texas barriers blocking all access forward. Beyond the concrete barriers, she saw slanted metal rooftops poking up. Past them, about a block away, awaited an even higher wall, this one more permanent: it was made of seamless metal, rather than interlocking concrete blocks, and wicked looking gun turrets poked out from the upper walkway at intervals.
“What’s that?” Rhea said.
Will followed her gaze to the gun turrets. “That would be Aradne, the capital city in these parts.”
“But why the turrets?” she pressed.
“I wasn’t kidding when I said the Outlands can be a dangerous place,” Will said. “Sometimes, roving bands of highwaymen like to team up and stage coordinated assaults against the cities. Those turrets are designed not just to protect Aradne, but the Rust Town slums on its outskirts, too.”
Rhea walked on in silence. The road here was clear of most debris and offered a relatively unimpeded path to the Texas barriers.
“By the way, we’re in range of the settlement’s repeaters,” Horatio told Rhea. “You should be able to connect to the Net now. Try it.”
“I’m not sure how…” Rhea began.
But then she knew. She focused on