The desert was flat and empty—not even a cactus for miles. Streetsweeper and I had chased a Marauder out here, into the nothingness—and into an ambush. We’d escaped, but were in a bad way.

Sweeper is my partner—normally a blue Porsche, but other times a 20-foot-tall robot, from Aegis.

But Aegis and the Marauders are not like the cartoons. Nanotech will only take them so far. Sweeper was out of gas and repair fluids and stuck with a busted radio.

I leaned back in the seat. “Sweeper, buddy, what are our options?”

“I need…organic matter. I can render it into fuel and repair material,” his voice said from the dash.

I looked around. “Everything looks dead as far as I can see.”

“I detect only one sign of life within sensor range,” Sweeper said slowly.

“Can we use that?” I asked.

“Only if there is no alternative.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant. “I don’t see one.”

“Very well,” Streetsweeper said, sadly. “I will try to make it as painless as possible.”

I barely felt the needles prick me through my clothing.