The floodgates of Roland’s mind opened, and a tidal wave of memory swept him away. He dropped to his knees. The Martyrs around him had fled, too shocked and awed to take advantage of his vulnerability. The battle drugs were gone now, or at least he couldn’t feel them anymore. Hundreds of memories assaulted his consciousness. Thousands.

For the first time in years, Roland knew who he’d been. Who he was again.

I’m back.

Roland stood. He took one halting step forward, and then another, and then he leaned against the frame of a broken APC for a little while as he pictured his mother’s face and voice for the first time in years. He wanted to sob. But there was no time.

He knew who he was now. And he knew what he was bound to do if he stayed this way. Roland’s conscience wouldn’t allow that. So he trudged forward until he found the right tool; a hand-held automatic grenade launcher, clutched in the dead hands of a Martyr.

He took the weapon and sat, cross-legged, in the blood-soaked Texas dirt. Roland looked up at the sky one last time and allowed himself a long moment to remember his parents, and his brother, and the day he and Topaz had first met.

And then he closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.

Manny.

Nana Yazzie, Sasha, Donald Farris, and Manny had all rushed to a transport as soon as Roland’s face showed up on the screen. It seems the drones either didn’t know, or didn’t care enough to separate dead friends from dead foes. Maybe that was the point.

Nana Yazzie drove. It took about six minutes for the shiny green jeep to make its way over the broken roads and toward the site of the battle. No one spoke.

They reached the battlefield. There are so many dead people. Manny had seen a lot of carnage in his life, but nothing like this. The stenches of burning flesh, opened bowels, and burning fuel were so overwhelming they almost knocked him down. Donald Farris and Nana Yazzie looked just as queasy. Only Sasha weathered the sights and smells with calm. She stayed focused enough to spot Skullfucker Mike in the mess and direct Nana Yazzie his way.

Rolling Fuck’s soldiers were out in force. They stalked through the killing fields in groups of four or five, searching for survivors or just looking for loot. Mike stood with Topaz and Kishori and a couple of chromed who Manny didn’t recognize. Most of them were seated by a handful of large metal crates in the center of what had once been a large playground. Oh god.