After the stalemate on the Emerald league front, and set back of zion force fail to invade shangri laa,

Nara, Tetsuya, and her band of mercenaries set their sights on the Hejaz Caliphate—her grandfather's nation—seeking help.

They passed through the Zagros Mountains in Persia and finally reached the Black Nation, the Caliphate. The landscape was a lush green, with steep hills covered in vibrant vegetation. Thanks to climate change and advanced soil techniques,

What was once a harsh desert had been transformed into a controlled ecosystem, the result of generations of dedicated research into xero-agriculture (farming with less water) and bio-engineered flora. Towering wind farms dotted the higher elevations, providing clean energy for the region.

He popped his head out of the cupola, the wind whipping at his goggles, and looked up at Nara, who was perched precariously on the tank's turret, her hair streaming out behind her like a dark banner.

“so.. you a noble ?, how heck a noble wandering around like a homeless then become gladiator?”

Nara, unfazed by the precarious perch, pushed her own goggles up onto her forehead, the wind catching strands of her hair and whipping them around her face. She leaned down slightly, her expression a mix of amusement and weariness.

“its.. complicated” she then pause a bit, wry smile playing on her lips. “Let’s just say my family’s… portfolio has diversified. Consider this a… field trip.”

Tetsuya snorted. “A field trip that involves dodging assassins and potentially starting a civil war? he sigh “alright. but.. i hope its not turn into a dramatic family affairs. or i will leaving you”

As they traveled through the region, they noticed that most of the populace were farmers and herders living simple lives. In each village, there stood a golden statue of a past messiah, a figure who had brought about a golden age for humanity for 40 years before passing away. Shortly after his death, World War III broke out, and the golden statues served as reminders of their former greatness.

Finally, Nara arrived in the city of Medina, a place that was both holy and advanced, with strict clothing regulations enforced—violate them, and you risk deportation.

“Tsk. Why should I wear a veil?” Nara grumbled as she adjusted her new garb, eyeing herself in the mirror.

One of the moral guards, a woman in a black veil, chimed in, “Well, can you walk naked in the street?”

“Of course not!” Nara shot back, confused by the silly question. “But in private, I can do whatever I want!”

“Exactly. Here, you can do what you want in private, but we value modesty in public,” the guard explained.

Nara sighed. “Yeah, I know. Wearing bling-bling on the street feels kinda... greedy, I guess.” nara remember her time on world adventure when still work with kassandra and panji. she know well people can kill by just jealously

The moral guard nodded, her tone lightening slightly. “Good. But just in case, you might need a reminder of where you belong, princess. You’ll be going to a moral school for a refresher.”

“NOOOOOOOO!!!” Nara shouted, her exaggerated reply echoing through the room.

later Nara emerges from the clothing dispensary, now clad in a full-length robe that feels like wearing a sleeping bag. "Ugh, I feel like a walking tent," she grumbles.

A Moral Guard approaches, this one sporting a stylishly modified burqa with built-in air conditioning and a small drone that hovers above her head, scanning for fashion faux pas.

"Greetings, citizen. Routine attire inspection," the Guard says politely. The drone zooms in on Nara's robe. "Interesting… vintage pre-Collapse design. However," the Guard adds, tapping a small control panel on her wrist, "current Caliphate fashion dictates a minimum of three decorative tassels and reflective piping for nighttime visibility. Please proceed to the nearest modification station."

Nara spots a nearby stall with a sign that reads "Tassels 'n' Things: Your One-Stop Modesty Shop." A wizened old man with a pair of goggles perched on his forehead gestures her over. "Need some bling for your burqa, sweetie? Got just the thing – glow-in-the-dark tassels, self-adjusting hemlines, even a built-in beverage cooler!"

Nara sighs. This was going to be a long day.

"When Nara returned from “school”, her cousin Bima greeted her. He was an Asian man with a long ponytail and a wide grin.

'Long time no see, Nara,' Bima said. 'Finally ready to settle down? Get married, have kids, instead of wandering around?'

Nara pouted, remaining silent.

Bima chuckled. 'Never mind. You're lucky our grandfather isn't mad at you.'

Nara nodded in agreement.

She then underwent a medical check-up. A scanning device surrounded her as she drifted off to sleep. Meanwhile, in another room, the doctor, a man in a white lab coat, adjusted his glasses and examined the scan results.

'It appears Nara's body is augmented with bioengineering and mutations,' he observed. 'She's practically a supersoldier. Someone has implanted a data chip in her brain. She also has limb implants, enhancing her muscle strength for heavy labor. However, this isn't natural. Ideally, no more than twelve implants should be used, as excessive augmentation can have long-term effects on her emotions.'

Bima's eyes narrowed. 'Back-alley doctor work? I'll smash his head in.'

The doctor tapped his pen against his lips. 'Highly unlikely. Even the most amateur implant merchants know the risks of over-augmentation.'

Bima scowled, studying the X-ray image of the data chip in Nara's brain. 'Let's find out who did this.'

Later, Nara underwent brain surgery to remove the data chip while she remained unconscious.

Bima held the extracted chip in his hand, then inserted it into a VR helmet. 'Alright,' he muttered, 'let's see what happened to her past.'

And with that, Bima was transported into Nara's childhood."

Bartok officer of scarlet moon mercenary ground in eastern wasteland, attempted to explain coordinates to a young recruit. Beside him, his seven-year-old daughter, Nara, mimicked the swing of an imaginary weapon. "Papa, watch this!" she shouted, launching into a mock charge, her stick held like a spear. Bartok watched, a fond smile playing on his lips.

Later, looking at an old photo of her parents, Nara asked, "Papa, Mama... why are we always moving? Why can't we stay together?"

Bartok knelt beside her. "Because of my duty, my little warrior. But no matter where we are, you'll always be my brave Nara."

Nara pouted. "But Papa, I miss you. I miss being your little ammo carrier."

Bartok chuckled. "And I miss your tiny footsteps chasing after the shells. But remember, you're strong and smart, just like your Mama. Maybe one day you'll write stories about us, not fight them."

Uter, the man with the steel mask, surveyed the artillery training ground from a distance. Beside him, Oboro, the man with the anti-material rifle, remained silent.

"That man… that corpse…" Uter muttered, a grim look etched on his masked face. "I still can't forget his face. The officers… they always held those lavish banquets at the bar. And that's when we strike."

Oboro nodded behind his mask. "Understood."

"Finally," Uter breathed, a hint of anticipation in his voice. "The long-awaited moment is coming…"

The Rusty Flagon was buzzing. "Congrats, Bartok!" a dwarf boomed, clapping him on the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble. "Heard you're getting shipped closer to the front. No more of my 'special' brews, eh?"

Bartok grinned, rubbing his shoulder. "Look on the bright side, Borin. At least I won't have to hear about how we're marching on Europe with the Khaganate to crush those neo-nazis every five minutes."

"Hey! It's a worthy cause!" Borin protested, but his grin betrayed him. "Though... it is gonna be a long march."

A few hours later, the place was winding down. A couple of drunk officers stumbled towards the bathroom, only to find the door locked. "Someone's been in there for ages," one grumbled, banging on the door. "Hey! You gonna live in there?" Receiving no answer, he shrugged. "Forget it. Let's just go outside."

As they stepped out into the night, two quick bursts of silenced gunfire ended their conversation. Inside, the bar suddenly went quiet. A figure in a dark cloak, Uter, emerged from the bathroom – finally. He moved with a predatory stillness, drawing a wickedly curved blade.

Outside, Oboro's voice crackled through Uter's earpiece. "Perimeter secure. Inside targets are yours."

Uter stepped into the bar, the remaining patrons – mostly off-duty officers – staring at him in stunned silence. One officer, his hand shaking, pointed a pistol. "Stay back!"

Uter didn't break stride. A swift, almost casual flick of his wrist, and the officer slumped to the floor. The bar erupted. Gunfire flashed, tables overturned. Bartok and Borin dove for cover behind a sturdy oak table.

"Secret passage," Borin hissed, already feeling around for the hidden release. "Come on!"

Uter, a whirlwind of deadly motion, continued his assault. Officers scrambled for cover, some attempting to flee through the windows, only to be met with Oboro's deadly aim.

The carnage subsided, leaving Uter standing alone in the blood-soaked bar.

"I didn't find him… I didn't find him…" Uter muttered, his voice a low growl. "AAAAAAAAAHHHH!" He slammed a fist on the bar, shattering a bottle.

"Impossible," Oboro's voice echoed through the earpiece. "He's still there."

"Wait… I know where he is…" Uter growled, his rage barely contained.

They scrambled through the narrow passage as more shots rang out. When they emerged into the back alley, Scarlet Moon soldiers were already converging on the bar. "Captain Bartok!" a lieutenant exclaimed. "You alright?"

Bartok dusted himself off. "Yeah, just a little… lively in there." He glanced back at the bar, a grim look on his face. "Looks like someone didn't appreciate the party."

Later, near the training ground, a group of mercenaries relaxed by a crackling fire.

"Hey, Cung," one of them said to a young girl playing nearby. "Time for bed, little one."

"Shut up," Nara grumbled, kicking him playfully. "I'm waiting for Papa."

"Oh, the princess needs a hug to sleep, huh?" the mercenary chuckled.

Nara, unimpressed, stomped towards her tent.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

From the shadows, Uter and Oboro observed the scene.

"Kill them all," Uter commanded, his voice devoid of emotion. "No exceptions."

Oboro lowered his binoculars, a flicker of unease in his eyes. "Kill the children too? That wasn't part of the agreement."

Uter, his face obscured by the remaining half of his mask, turned to Oboro. He removed the mask, revealing a horrifying visage – half of his face was a grotesque mask of scarred flesh, and his right arm was replaced with a chillingly efficient blade.

"Not just the officers," Uter rasped. "He destroyed Reich last army group. He ruined my life. He has to pay."

Oboro stared at Uter, a chilling realization dawning on him. "So, you're doing this for personal revenge?"

"Not just revenge," Uter snarled. "He destroyed everything. He has to pay."

"I understand," Oboro said, his voice flat. "But killing children… that's not in my contract."

"Just the guards," Uter said, his voice deceptively calm. "Then you can collect your payment."

Oboro sighed. "Fine. Job's a job."

Inside the tent, Nara snuggled into her pillow, a faint whimper escaping her lips. "Papa… why is it taking so long?"

Then, the screams began.

Uter, a silent predator, moved towards the tent, a chilling smile playing on his lips. "Jackpot…"

The next morning, Bartok found his guard slumped outside his quarters, a dark stain spreading across his uniform. He burst into the tent, his heart pounding. A single note lay on Nara's cot: I have your little princess.

Two days later, on the steppe, two women rode a motorcycle across the open plains.

"Time for a break," Shasha said, glancing at her companion.

Nara's mother nodded, pulling over. They dismounted and started a small fire. "Need to check in," she said, pulling out her comm device.

Shasha leaned against the bike. "Hurry it up."

Nara's mother climbed onto Shasha's shoulders, trying to get a better signal. The comm crackled to life, then immediately started ringing insistently. "Whoa!" she exclaimed, nearly losing her balance. "Sixty-nine missed calls?"

Meanwhile, in the desert, Hejaz sat beside his elaborately customized motorcycle, a figure resembling a secretary standing nearby.

"Sir, we have news," the secretary said. "Your granddaughter, Nara, has been taken."

Hejaz removed his goggles, his eyes narrowing. "What?"

Later that day, in a command tent, Hejaz's voice boomed. "Bartok is a fool. This is my operation now. I want commandos deployed. Find my granddaughter. Now."

Back at Bartok's temporary house, a group of men and women in black cloaks met with him.

"My name is Laila Amara," a woman in black said, her voice cool. "I lead Hornet, the special commandos. Your father-in-law, Mr. Hejaz, ordered me here. Show me Nara's last location."

Bartok, speechless, could only nod and lead them to the tent.

Laila removed her black glasses, revealing eyes that glowed red. "This is an infrared implant," she explained. "With this, I can see traces of her kidnapper." She stepped outside the tent, gazing intently at the distant valley. "Any signs? When was she kidnapped?"

"Two days ago," Bartok replied, his voice trembling. "At night."

Laila glared at him. "Why did you just say this morning?"

"It's my wife's fault," Bartok mumbled. "She just checked her phone this morning."

Laila sighed. "This will be difficult. The footprints are probably gone. Give me a map of this place, and don't interfere."

In a hidden cave near the valley, Uter laid the unconscious Nara on a table. "Okay, Bartok," he muttered. "If I can't get your head, I'll destroy your child." He pulled a small box of implant chips from his pocket, a chilling grin spreading across his face. He selected a chip at random.

Midday found the Hornet team approaching the cave.

"Ma'am, the cave is secure, and there are signs of movement inside," reported Hornet1.

Laila nodded. "Hafsa, Rustam, guard the entrance. The rest of you, go in."

The commandos moved cautiously into the cave, weapons raised. Finally, they reached Nara's room.

"We found the VIP," Hornet1 reported.

Laila scanned the room. "No traps. Good." She noticed Nara lying on the table, an infusion attached to her arm. "Look at this," she said, picking up an implant chip near the table. "This poor girl..." She examined a small scar on the back of Nara's head.

"Should we do something?" Hornet2 asked.

"Our mission is to bring the VIP to Mr. Hejaz, dead or alive," Laila said. "Nothing else."

The Hornet team began their return journey, carrying Nara carefully.

"Captain! They're back with Nara!" a mercenary shouted.

"What!" Bartok exclaimed, his heart pounding. "Where are they now?"

"They're already at the airport, Captain!"

"Bartok slammed on the jeep's gas pedal, racing towards the military airport. The gate guard, oblivious to the urgency, slowly opened the barrier. But Bartok didn't wait. He plowed through the gate, roaring, "Hey! Where are you going? Give me back my daughter! You won't take her from me!"

Inside, Laila spotted him through the plane window. "Hurry!" she cried, her eyes wide.

The plane began its takeoff roll. Bartok, in a desperate pursuit, sped alongside, yelling, "Hey! Stop it… Nara!"

Laila laughed uncontrollably, a mixture of fear and exhilaration. The plane lifted off, leaving Bartok in its dust.

Suddenly, a motorcycle roared onto the scene. "Awesom," the rider, Panji, grinned, his face obscured by a red shade. He braked sharply, leveling his rocket launcher at the plane. With a deafening boom, the rocket struck the aircraft, sending it careening off the runway.

Bartok skidded to a stop near Panji. "You idiot fool! You killed my daughter!"

Panji simply lowered his shades and grinned. "You're welcome."

Laila, clutching her injured head. while holding nara,she stumbled out of the wreckage.with some hornet survive. Panji and Bartok exchanged a grim look. "Mount up!" Bartok barked.

Panji hopped onto the jeep, his machine gun chattering. "Lighten up!" he yelled as a swarm of hornets descended. Bartok, riddled with bullets, continued to drive, crashing into a disabled aircraft.

"You okay, man?" Panji asked.

Bartok coughed up blood. "Do you think I'm fine?" he rasped, a grim smile playing on his lips. He stumbled out of the jeep and grabbed Panji's shirt. "Listen, give me that," he demanded.

Panji shook his head. "No… you'll die. You need a doctor."

"Just give it to me, damn it! They'll take my only love in this world!" Bartok roared.

Panji sighed and pulled a syringe of adrenaline from his bag. "Just… promise me you won't do anything crazy."

Bartok injected himself, the adrenaline surging through his veins. He could stand again.

Meanwhile, Laila, carrying the unconscious Nara, stumbled across the desert, while by two hornets cover her back. Bartok, emerging from behind a boulder, opened fire. The hornets retaliated, but Panji flanked them, neutralizing the threat with a flurry of bullets.

Panji approached Laila, raising his gun to finish her. But then he saw Nara looking at him, her eyes is half lidded. aceppting her fate. panji looked at Laila, her veil slipping, revealing a face etched with terror. A pang of sympathy struck him. He knew they were just following orders. With a heavy sigh, he threw guns away from her, turning to leave.

As he walked toward the boulder where Bartok had taken cover, he saw him slumped against it, bleeding out. Bartok mumbled something Panji couldn't quite make out, his voice weak and fading. Nara, half-conscious, witnessed the scene, her unfocused gaze fixed on her dying father. In his final moments, Bartok’s eyes closed, his breathing ceasing.

Back in Medina, Bima removed the VR helmet, a heavy sigh escaping him. He glanced at Nara, still sleeping peacefully. He didn't know if she'd experienced the fragmented horrors he’d just witnessed, and he decided to keep it that way. He’d simply tell her the doctors had removed a dangerous implant, but that the beneficial ones were still in place. No need to burden her with the ghosts of her past.

That night, Bima relayed the bare facts to Hejaz, omitting the more gruesome details. He spoke of the implants, the kidnapping, the desperate fight. Hejaz listened in grim silence, his face etched with a mixture of grief and fury. When Bima finished, the old man sat in contemplative silence for a long moment. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but firm. "She is my granddaughter. A princess of the Hejaz. She will be welcomed as such."

months later, November 2405. The Hejaz Caliphate was embroiled in a massive rebellion in Mesopotamia, led by Rashid, the Caliph's own nephew.

Rashid had transformed Baghdad into a floating city, a marvel of defiance bobbing atop the flooded plains, with a port connecting to the Persian Gulf. 80 years ago after the sea rising. they make this structure. The Hejaz army had to tread carefully, aiming to capture the city without turning it into a war-torn wreck.

Nara, upon hearing the news, felt a surge of fury. “Tsk... these rebels share the same ideology as my grandfather’s caliphate. I must help them!”

Hejaz, on the other hand, was having none of it. “The rebels must be eliminated immediately! How dare they attack our Caliphate? They’re not loyal to God, only to their own interests We must crush the!”

“But they’re rebelling against tyranny!” Nara shot back, gripping her bat tightly. “They want a better world, just like I do!”

Hejaz scoffed. “Their way leads to chaos! What will they achieve by overthrowing us? Only bloodshed! We are true believers, and I believe in hope and redemption—if we unite under one goal”

Nara’s rage boiled over. “You just want to control them! You’re using religion to enslave your subjects! You’re the tyrant here!”

Hejaz retorted, “Is that how you see my rule? My authority is divinely ordained! If they resist, they’re rebelling against God’s will! I will show no mercy”

Nara felt torn. Should she support the rebels, who might just be puppets of the Red Nation, or back her grandfather to help the Emerald League against the impending invasion? she then just mubbling a word“tyrant”

Hejaz, sensing the shift, lamented, “So you all think I’m a tyrant? I want to guide you to righteousness! If you resist, you’ll face God’s wrath”

Nara’s nephew, Bima, stepped in. “Enough, Nara! We don’t need your criticism right now. We’re at war; there’s no perfect nation!”

“You’re right,” Nara conceded, her focus shifting. “It’s war. My criticism isn’t necessary, and for now, I’m on your side, Bima!”

Nara was in a whirlwind of confusion. The rebel cause seemed noble, and she desperately wanted to help. But doubts crept in—was Rashid really any different from the Red Nation, merely a puppet in a different play? Her mind was a battlefield, and it was hard to focus on the war at hand.

Meanwhile, Laila lurked in the shadows, her black veil hiding everything but her piercing red eyes. A glowing implant adorned her forehead, and a robotic arm jutted from her back, giving her an air of both menace and intrigue. “Sorry to make you see me, but here I am,” she said, lowering her head.

later in operation room, One of the leaders of the Hornet group laila,

briefed the team. “The Elite Hornet of the Black Nation has landed on the border with the new Caliphate. Our mission? Take out Rashid and watch the rebellion crumble like a house of cards.”

Nara’s heart raced at the news. She approached the Hornet leader, her mind racing. “What if we eliminate Rashid? Can we negotiate with the rebels? They don’t seem like Red Nation puppets; they seem genuine.”

The Hornet leader raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “That’s the plan. First, we take out Rashid, then we negotiate with the rebels who have pure intentions. We’ll unite against the Red Nation.”

Nara’s anger shifted to relief. “So we’re on the same page. But what if the rebels refuse to be our puppets? What if they want independence?”

The Hornet leader’s expression turned serious. “We must respect their independence, but as long as they’re safe and stable, it’s manageable. We can make it work.”

Nara pondered this. “But what if they rebel again after we get rid of Rashid? How do we stop them?”

“It depends on public support,” the Hornet leader replied. “If the people back us, the rebels can’t rise. If they do, we can use propaganda—paint the rebels as Red Nation puppets or stage a false flag attack. With public opinion on our side, we can handle the rebel leader.”

Nara was taken aback by the Hornet leader’s cold efficiency. “That’s... surprisingly effective,” she admitted, her heart racing. “But why do you fight against the Red Nation?”

Laila’s gaze softened. “I fight for justice for those oppressed by the Red Nation.”

Nara felt a connection. “Justice for the oppressed... I see. You and I aren’t so different after all.”

Laila nodded, understanding the shared purpose. “We both want peace and happiness for those who suffer. The Red Nation is the root of our problems.”

In that moment, Nara felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps, together, they could forge a path toward a better future.

In the twilight of a war-torn city, the air crackled with tension as skirmishes erupted across the labyrinthine flyover highways. Hejaz shock troops clashed with Rashid's agile rebels in a deadly game of cat and mouse, the intricate network of elevated roads transforming into a chaotic battleground. Laser fire painted streaks across the sky, illuminating the chaos below.

The Hornet elite squad, a formidable force, was split into seven platoons, each launching a coordinated assault on Rashid's strongholds. The sudden attacks from multiple fronts overwhelmed Rashid's forces, plunging them into disarray. In a matter of moments, the Hornet elite squad secured Rashid's stronghold in the city center, their mission clear: capture the elusive leader.

As Nara and the Hornet leader approached Rashid's office, they could feel the weight of the moment. Inside, Rashid was hiding, his nerves fraying as he realized the elite squad was closing in. Grabbing his gun, he pointed it at the intruders, his hands trembling.

“Please put down your gun, Rashid! We’re here to talk, not to fight,” Nara urged, her voice soft yet firm, echoing the Hornet leader's calm demeanor.

But the Hornet elite squad advanced, weapons drawn, leaving no room for kindness toward a tyrant like him. The Hornet leader stepped forward, her gaze piercing. “You must surrender! You are the main cause of the chaos in this region. If you surrender, no harm will come to you. Resist, and you will die here.”

Rashid, desperate and cornered, quick-drew his pistol from the desk. The Hornet elite squad prepared to fire, but the Hornet leader raised her hand, commanding, “Don’t shoot! Let me handle this.” She approached Rashid, her voice steady. “Rashid, I need to know one thing.”

“What?” he spat, leaning against the glass window, his bravado faltering.

“Why do you want to rebel against Hejaz? Is there a real reason?” she pressed, her tone serious.

“I believe the world should unite under one banner,” Rashid declared, his eyes wild. “Look at the sky, Laila. How long will we remain stuck on this dirt sphere, fighting each other instead of exploring space? Zion promised me a spaceship, and yet humanity continues to strife.”

The Hornet leader regarded him with a sharp glance. “Your reason is admirable, but naive. How can you unite people with their own cultures, ideas, and religions? You can’t even solve the war in your own backyard. If you want to explore space, try establishing a peaceful world first. And why would you trust the Red Nation for a spaceship?”

“Because they are the only nation with the technology to do it! Our nation is still stuck in the Stone Age!” Rashid shot back, frustration evident in his voice.

Laila smirked, her expression laced with sarcasm. “And you trust the Red Nation because of their technology? Do you think their promises are genuine? They won’t help anyone without getting something in return—power. You’re just a pawn for them.”

“We’re all pawns for someone,” Rashid retorted defiantly.

“True,” Laila replied, a cruel smile forming. “But there’s a difference. They use pawns to gain power and discard them without remorse. I use pawns to overthrow the powerful. That difference will lead us to victory. Don’t be a useless pawn; become the king piece we need. Join us.”

“Do you think they will forgive me?” Rashid asked, doubt creeping into his voice.

“We don’t ask for forgiveness,” Laila said, her eyes cold. “We ask for your surrender. We won’t kill you; we just want to arrest you for justice. But if you choose to fight until the end, you will die. Choose wisely.”

“I’m a man,” Rashid declared, raising his gun once more.

In a flash, Laila stepped aside, evading the bullet. “Then you will die like a man,” she shot back, her gun trained on him, the Hornet elite squad following suit.

Rashid fired multiple rounds, the bullets piercing his own body, cracking the glass behind him. Yet, against all odds, he stood firm. “Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted, continuing to shoot.

Rashid, bleeding but defiant, aimed his pistol again. "At least I'm trying!"

Laila chuckled. "You're persistent, I'll give you that. Almost makes me feel bad." She fired a quick series of shots, carefully avoiding vital organs. Rashid dropped to his knees. "Almost."

She approached him, kicking his discarded pistol away. "Med pod, now," she instructed the Hornets as they moved in. "And tell the doc to work his magic. I need this guy in talking shape. Preferably before he tries to shoot me again."