Not-yet-titled sequel

Part 3

Councilwoman Zaman came back a few days later. Rebecca was running some drills with the larger pistol Rhonda had appropriated for her when they arrived, putting fistfuls of low-grade sport ammo through it and getting used to the different balance. Several more rounds in each magazine, less noticeable recoil. She missed the integral laser sight, though.

The original owner had larger hands than she did, so she was particularly grateful the interchangeable rubber grips that wrapped around the back of her pistol also fit this model. Still, with only one "medium" to go around, she'd have to pick and choose which pistol she wanted to fit most comfortably at any given time. Maybe Sam could inherit her compact with the unused small grip?

Speaking of, Rebecca saw Sam sidle up in her peripheral vision with fingers in her ears, several feet away. Rebecca lowered the pistol and moved her finger out of the trigger guard, pulling one earplug free with her left hand while keeping the gun pointed "downrange". "Hey Rosie. What's up?"

Sam lowered her hands away from her ears. "Amira's back, along with Epstein and a few other guys. Ronnie wants to take 'em on a tour of the upgrades."

Which meant Sam would be playing docent for the solar power. Rebecca wasn't entirely sure what she'd add herself, but this was clearly an invitation, whether for company's sake or just being involved if there was something else important discussed. But sure, she'd tag along.

"Huh." Rebecca unloaded the handgun, leaving the slide locked to cool while she thumbed the remaining magazine-and-a-half of rounds back into the box. "I wonder how they'll shake up our life this time."

Sam shrugged and made an exaggeratedly enthusiastic face accompanied by jazz hands. "Oooh, exciting!!"

"Pfft." Rebecca waved her hand over the pistol to check its temperature, then tucked it away in the small sling bag she had with her. The shell casings would have to wait, she could come back later to see if there were any worth reusing. "I've definitely learned to appreciate boring."

It was Sam's turn to scoff. "Yeah. Tell me about it."

Rebecca followed Sam back around the building. Sure enough, there was a new Humvee (she assumed, she hadn't exactly been memorizing their dings, scratches, and numbers) parked at the open end of the U-shaped courtyard. But even more novel was a big black SUV beyond it, the kind she'd picture "The Feds" showing up with in a movie. It was still dwarfed by the hulking beast they'd captured from Black Tusk that loomed like a squatting gargoyle near the main entrance, but that didn't make it seem any less out of place.

She must have been gawking, because when Amira stepped away from a cluster of people to greet them, she gestured at it — with a level of poise and elegance that made Rebecca feel like an awkward duckling, by the way. "Samantha, Rebecca, good afternoon ladies. You seem to like my new ride? When you get to be my undisclosed age, getting jostled around constantly in a military vehicle becomes much less pleasant, or even survivable."

Rebecca remembered her queasy ride in the Humvee and smiled. "I can imagine... but is it worth the trade-off in safety?"

Amira laughed like Rebecca had unwittingly delivered a good punchline. "Oh, my dear. You don't think our dashing officers would let their reluctant figurehead ride around unprotected, do you? Some sharp-eyed youngling picked it out of the mess on I-95, thought it was odd to see three of them in a row together. Thanks to him, I can ride around in something with both padded seats and bulletproof glass. Some diplomat was probably trying to flee in the opposite direction of population density, for however well it worked out for them."

She waved a hand as if to dismiss the morbid note of her afterthought, and it seemed to work, as some of her infectious amusement crept into the tone of Rebecca's reply.