Despite his hazy brain, Spinner tried to remember everyone’s location just before the blast. Maybe he wasn’t the only one lucky enough to survive. Hard to tell since his visual sensors didn’t work properly.
“Rake … are you there?” His voice came out croaked, but his jaw worked enough to produce the words.
A groan came from his left. “I wish I was dead.”
A relieved sigh escaped Spinner’s lips. Life wasn’t so bad if his best friend had survived.
“Any idea what happened?” he asked.
“Another screw up of our wonderful scientists.” Rake’s gruff voice was strained.
“What’s the status?”
“I think I broke my back. I can’t move,” Rake said.
Tough luck but not unfixable. A month of rehabilitation would do. It meant they weren’t going to be shipped to the battlefield together this time around. Bummer.
“Any tingling?” Spinner asked.
“Yes…” Rake said.
“Me too. It’s not the back, it’s the implant.”
“Right … I can’t think straight. It keeps firing inside my brain.” Rake groaned again, possibly another failed attempt to extract himself from the pile of mangled bodies. “Can you move at all?”
“Then we’re stuck until the cleaning team gets here,” Rake said in an unhappy voice.
(The Nightingale Circus Collection - The Blade Masters)