The rover drives up with a pleasantly quiet hum as Cor and I return to Data Haven’s hidden entrance. Cleve and Tenoch have been hard at work while we were on our stroll. I wave goodbye to Cor, who has to clean Mr. Fuzzy’s claws, and join the others outside the car. I stand casually alongside the vehicle, close enough to reach it with my right hand, should my leg cause me any trouble. Not that it should. Cleve pulls out his notebook and places a checkmark beside Tenoch’s name on his council list. I suppose that means he’s handled this recruitment pitch on his own. He stuffs the notebook away, and his hand comes back out with the electronic device we found embedded in the bone of a deceased exile. “This seemed like something you might like,” he says, holding it out.
“Ah! Morgan’s still using these,” Tenoch says with recognition.
“So what is it?” I ask.
“It’s an exile transmitter. If you try to go back into the dome, it immediately sets off an alarm there. But you have to be in the airlock for it to go off.”
“When people are formally exiled, they’re implanted with this thing?” I ask, incredulous.
“Yes, but not just for debt. This is for crimes. For when they don’t want you back in the dome, ever. Otherwise they wouldn’t spend the money.”
“Wow. Not at all what we thought it was,” I marvel.
“Huh, well, it’d be useful if we knew how to deactivate them,” Cleve says.
“Yes,” Tenoch agrees. “If you could deactivate them, then anyone who has one could potentially get back inside and do any number of things.”
“Do you know if anyone in Data Haven has one of these?” I ask. “It’s not necessarily violent crime, right? Or is it only that?”
“Unspecified. I don’t know for sure. I left before they started issuing these, but we’ve seen them on a few people who have come in.”
“Is it something you’re interested in?” Cleve asks.
“Given that it works on radio waves, not especially. You have to keep the air very clean for that to work.”
“But you could study it to figure out how to disable it,” I suggest.
“Oh! Yes. That would be interesting.”
Before we part ways, I bring up a topic of more personal interest. “Is there anything in your junk pile that could make a new cane?” I ask. I rest my right hand against the rover.
“There is no junk, only future material,” Tenoch tells me.
“Do you have a future cane, then? Or are you comfortable working with native materials? We’ve seen some sort of chitinous material pressed into lumber.”
“Yes, I can do that. But you must procure whatever you want to be the primary component. I’m not familiar with what local material would be appropriate.”
“Great! Thanks.” That’s another excuse to spend time outside, though not today. That walk with Cor was enough exercise for someone still recovering from a siege worm attack.
Tenoch shuffles off toward the elevator, but Cleve remains with me a moment longer. “Do you need something temporary to stabilize yourself?” he asks. “You kind of have a little bit of a lean.”
I pull my hand away from the rover, self-conscious about it now. “Something temporary?”
“Like a walker,” Cleve suggests.
“A walker?! I have one hand. No.”
“You could manage one with wheels.”
Cleve sounds so earnest, but what he’s saying is nonsense. I cannot imagine how ridiculous that would look, particularly out here in the undergrowth. “I appreciate your concern, but no.”
“Or a scooter? No? How about one of those canes with a chair base attached to it?” He turns around, looking to see what sort of sticks or branches are in the area, and I see that the hair on the other side of his head is matted with blood.
“Uh, Cleve? Your head is bleeding.”
“Oh, right.” He reaches a hand up to dab at it, but I stop him.
“You’re talking nonsense, Cleve. Let me take a look at that.” It’s a nasty gash, but we’re outside in the open air. I’ve mended bruises and rashes before, even lungs. It’s worth a try to see if I can heal this. “You’re one to talk about me looking unstable,” I mutter, as I place my hand just above it. I take a deep breath and focus my will.
I can’t guarantee there won’t be a scar, but at least it’s no longer actively bleeding. I can feel the inflammation going down as well. There’s a lot of energy to draw on out here, and there’s always the risk that it will be more than I can control, but for right now, I’ve got a handle on things.
“Oh, that feels so much better,” a grateful Cleve says.