“That’s ‘cuz you’re a flake, Bran,” the motorcycle said waspishly.

“Oh ha ha, I’ve never heard that one before,” Bran retorted. Then he stared. “You’re a cyclemech! He actually did it!”

“Oh hell, when am I going to learn to keep my yap shut,” the motorcycle groaned.

“Pleased to meet you! I’m Bran Maciejewski.” He held out his hand for a moment, then remembered what he was talking to. “Oh right. Um. Yeah. So, are you Aegis or Marauder? Or, well, I guess I should say ‘Lordun’ if you are a Marauder, I mean Lordun, since that’s more accurate.”

The motorcycle sighed. “Aegis.” Then, guessing it couldn’t hurt to try to be friendly, added, “Highway Star. Star for short. Would you mind terribly pulling out this thing stuck in my lighter socket?”

Bran leaned over, then shook his head. “That’s the jammer. I can’t do that or you might get away. Sorry about that.”

“Why are you doing this?” Star moaned.

Bran turned back to his computer. “Jason says he’s in it for money. I think he really has other reasons.”