Deacon looked up suddenly, cocking his head slightly. “We’ll continue this later,” he said. “It’s time we were moving.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Casey shook his head. “Now that that… thing… is gone I have to get back to my ship and try to call for a pickup.”
“It’s your funeral,” Silver stood and shouldered his rifle. “I ain’t staying around to argue.”
“Son, it’s dangerous to move around while there’s a Mote on the loose, but it’s even more dangerous to stay still when it’s passed.” A howl in the distance that seemed half static punctuated Deacon’s words. “The Scavengers are on the move.”
Casey sensed the edge of panic in the others’ voices that hadn’t been present before, and it brought him to his feet. “What are these scavengers?” he asked.
“If you want to live to hear the answer to that question, I suggest you run.”