CHAPTER FIFTEEN: When in Danger or in Doubt
Ambros woke up, and almost immediately wished he hadn't. His head was hurting: aching, pounding, splitting. No cliché described it. He rolled over, grunting.
He could smell damp soil. He opened his eyes and saw nothing.
"Dark," he said: "Where is it this dark?"
He bit his lip hard enough to draw a little blood, by that means distracting himself from the headache: "Six. USIT Six," he whispered. "I was visiting the New York settlement..." His suspicions immediately went to Ed the bully: "Hit from behind, maybe." He began to feel like he wouldn't die right away, and his wits slowly returned. He explored the back of his head, tentatively. He felt a lump the size of a walnut: ‘Hit me right on the button.’
He had no armor, and that was wrong. He touched his crotch; his cup clung to the skin there: "I wonder how they got the rest of it off me," he said, grumpily. "Shouldn't come off without a touch from my hand...” No armor meant he didn’t have his weapons belt, with all of the other tools that Commonwealth Commandos carried: “Well, they can’t use any of that stuff, but...I oughta try to get all of that tech back before they hurt themselves trying to pry the cases open.’
”Let's see what we can find out, shall we?"