Two Targets faced Amena and the casualties: possibly augmented human; scan results null.

Both Targets turned toward me. They looked like tall, thin augmented humans, with dull gray skin. (Injury, illness? Or an uncommon skin augment/cosmetic modification?) They both wore form-fitting protective suits and partial helmets that left a surprising (surprisingly stupid) amount of the face bare. Narrow human features, dark brows standing out against the smooth gray skin. Both smiled with colorless lips.

Accusingly, one said (Unidentified One = Target One) to the other, “You said this one was dead.” They weren’t quite identical. Target One was slightly taller and had broader shoulders.

“Poor thing was dead,” Unidentified Two = Target Two responded, and laughed.

Poor thing. I think a capillary just burst inside one of my organic parts.

Three drones hovered behind the Targets, of a model that didn’t match anything in my archives. They were round, as big around as my head, the apertures for cameras or weapons hidden despite their size. The stealth material interfered with my scan, but not with the image in the organic part of my brain. It gave me an uneasy kind of double vision, where my scan insisted there were floating anomalies that wouldn’t appear on my camera, yet I had a clear image in my temp data storage, supplied by my organic nerve tissue.

I knew the targetDrones weren’t slow, but they looked cumbersome. I needed intel before proceeding. I said, “What did you do to ART?”

That wasn’t the intel I needed. But it was the intel I wanted.

Target One cocked its head inquiringly and bared sharp teeth. Another possible cosmetic modification or genetic variance. Target One said, “You’re babbling, poor thing.”

Target Two, in almost the same tone, said, “These creatures seem to have no control over their vocalizations.”

I was aware of Amena, watching me with wide eyes, both hands pressed to her mouth. Casualties One and Two, still behind her, stared at me in confusion.

I clarified, “This transport. What did you do to the bot pilot?” ART was so much more than a bot pilot but I didn’t have a word for what it was.

Target Two sighed and folded its arms, like I’d asked a stupid question. Target One grinned at me, maliciously. It didn’t know who I was, what I was, it might not even know who ART was, but it knew I cared, and it was going to enjoy what it said next. “We deleted it, of course.”

I felt my face change. The muscles were all stiff, and not from the hit I’d taken. I’m still not great at controlling my expressions, and I had no idea what I looked like. Behind her hands, Amena whispered, “Oh shit.”

“Oh, this one looks angry,” Target One said.

Target Two said, “How boring. Angry, then afraid, then dead. Boring boring boring.”

Target One began, “You belong to us now, all of you. This is what’s going to happen. You will tell us—”