“Come on, schab. This…” Uma inspected the body. “…this girl’s heavier than she looks.”
“If she’s being looked for and they find us carrying her we’re not going to…”
“Yah, yah,” Uma said as she set her end of the girl down. The girl’s arm flopped to the floor and the back of her fingers smacked the concrete. A metal cylinder tumbled out of her vest. The heavy but hollow sound captured all three mechanics’ attention.
The cylinder rolled in a shallow arc till it wedged under a wheeled Bainbridge tool cart a step from Narkkid. [describe the cylinder].
The girl twisted, and Narkkid, who still held her feet, crumpled to the floor. The girl rose to a low crouch; her stance wide and her arms out like a bear. Behind and above her, Uma stooped to catch her up like a child picking up an hissing kitten. The girl thrust upward when Uma contacted her. The effort lifted the larger rounder woman off her feet and tossed her into a plastic locker.
No one moved; the girl straightened up. She surveyed the front bay from the back corner over her left shoulder all the way around to Uma’s landing place over her right with a rotation of her head. When Tjon, then Narkkid came directly in her line of view her eyes darted to theirs. For Uma, she tilted her head to see better, then bolted out the garage door and down Honeyfarm Circle past Red Rodney’s.
Narkkid put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. The girl stopped abruptedly and turned. Narkkid waggled the [something characteristic] cylinder in her hand. Even at the distance she was Narkkid could see her lips tighten into a pissed sneer. The scanned up, looking to the sky over the Hartwhile shop.
“Incoming,” Tjon said. When the three looked back to the girl, she was gone.
“Hide it.” Narrkid handed the cylinder to Tjon. “Uma, get up out of there and get back to work on that Shortle’s flit. He wants it before noon.
Narrkid was scooping coffee grounds when the police landed.
350 words on day 886