Shayla, codename "Shark", has rendezvoused in the forest with members of a terrorist cell. The injury she sustained escaping the starship is coming back to haunt her.
Shayla grimaced as she shrugged her pack and cloak from her shoulders.
"You're hurt," Cobra said, concern in his eyes.
"My descent was never going to be easy." She tried to keep her tone casual, but she saw Weasel tense, oafish demeanor gone, and Tiger's face darken into tight-lipped anger.
Cobra reached out and peeled back the collar of her shirt, exposing the edge of the field dressing she'd applied.
"I have a vial of sprayskin in my pack," Shayla said, "I could use some help applying it properly."
"What use is an injured assassin?" Tiger's beam pistol was trained on her. "We should kill her now and return home while we still can."
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