5: Deva
Deva
They called it a MOM, a mobile observation module, but to Deva it was a truck with a control room in the rear. Not as tough as an Aethon, but the outer was hardened, and a dampener muffled signals.
They’d parked in the shadows, across the street from the warehouse, far enough back that they wouldn’t be directly involved. Deva should have felt safe. But Wrench continued to fiddle with the Preben in his lap.
“Cut it out,” she said. “You’re making me nervous.”
“Huh?” He frowned.
“The g*n. Don’t need it in here.”
He looked to his lap with a frown, then shrugged. “Sorry. Didn’t know I had it.”
Deva rolled her eyes, told herself the guy wasn’t used to operations like this. And Wrench wasn’t the bravest to start with.
It didn’t help that they had so many weapons in the MOM.
