Saul fell silent after Arthur's offer. His gaze drifted toward the horizon, where the Badlands stretched endlessly in dry waves of ochre and rust.
He knew the truth. Everyone did, really.
You couldn't trust corporations. Not Biotechnica, not Arasaka, not even Kang Tao. They smiled at you with white teeth and extended golden hands, but their eyes always measured your worth in numbers. Credit lines. Kill ratios. Asset value.
But what else could he do?
If they kept wandering, the Aldecaldos wouldn't last another year.
"Truth is," Saul muttered, voice low, "there's nothing left to trust in this world. Not friends. Not family. Brotherhoods fall apart. Blood dries up. And trust? It's just another form of debt."
Arthur didn't interrupt. He just lit a cigarette and let Saul talk.
"We're called scum wherever we go. Villains. Rats. Cancer. No one wants us around. We don't build anything—hell, we barely even own what we carry. We haul supplies, we camp near power stations, and we steal scraps to survive."
Saul exhaled, the weight of it all pressing down. "One wrong move, piss off one corpo patrol, and we're left burying half the tribe in the sand."
"So," he said with a bitter shrug, "what choice do I have but to try something—anything—that might give us a future?"
Arthur took a slow drag, watching the smoke curl and vanish.
"You said Biotechnica offered something?" he asked.
Saul nodded. "Yeah. Nothing big. Just a logistics support deal. But... I've heard some other tribes started working with them too. Like the Red Ocher Tribe. They've got a contract on an antibiotic project. Seems to be going alright."
Arthur nearly choked on his cigarette.
"Pfft!"
He burst out laughing—loud, uncontrollable laughter that echoed across the campsite. Several Aldecaldos turned their heads to stare. Mitch raised an eyebrow and smirked from the sidelines, clearly amused.
Arthur laughed so hard he had to brace himself against Saul's shoulder, tears prickling the corners of his eyes. "Hah! Sorry... sorry, I usually don't laugh unless I really can't help it."
Saul's expression turned dark.
Arthur straightened up, wiping his eyes, then leaned in. "You're serious? You think Biotechnica's got friendly partnerships with the tribes?"
Saul frowned. "I mean... yeah. That's what I heard."
Arthur chuckled again, softer this time. "Buddy, any corpo who says 'partnership' with a smile has already drawn the contract in your blood."
"Listen," he said, voice turning grim. "You ever heard of the Red Ocher Tribe's real deal with Biotechnica?"
Saul shook his head.
Arthur sighed. "Of course not. Nobody talks about it. But I remember. Heard the details from a fixer in Watson."
He took another puff, exhaled slowly, and began.
"They were told it was a collaboration. Trial run on some new antibiotics. Nothing major. Just a few doses, some monitoring, and a fat payout."
"They were desperate—half-starved, short on ammo, no fuel for their trucks. So they agreed. It sounded harmless."
"But the 'medicine' they got? It was experimental trash. Unvetted, unapproved, and loaded with bio-nanites that weren't even designed to work with human DNA. They were test rats in a poisoned maze."
Arthur's voice dropped lower. "Within a week, two-thirds of them were dead."
Saul stiffened.
"The rest tried to fight back. A fixer named Daino took their case, hired a merc to dig into the mess. I don't know the full fallout, but let's just say there's a reason you don't hear about the Red Ocher Tribe anymore."
He leaned closer. "So yeah. You could say it was smooth for Biotechnica."
Saul didn't speak for a while. His fingers twitched near the grip of his belt holster, though he didn't reach for it.
Arthur clapped him on the back, friendly again. "But hey, if you're so interested in Red Ocher, why don't we go see what's left of them?"
"You want to visit them?" Saul asked, surprised.
"Hell yeah. Let's go knock on the ghost town's door. Maybe they'll share a cup of synthetic tea."
Mitch chuckled nearby.
Arthur turned to David, who was watching the exchange with a mixture of awe and unease.
"Kid, stay here and hang with your Uncle Mitch. He's good people, even if he still owes me fifty eddies."
Mitch snorted. "I paid that back."
"Only in bullets," Arthur replied. Then he turned back to his son. "We'll be gone a few hours. If I'm not back by nightfall, get someone to walk you home. Or crash here."
David nodded. "Alright. Be careful."
Arthur ruffled his hair and headed to the car. As he slid into the driver's seat, Saul took the passenger side, still deep in thought.
As Arthur started the engine, he glanced at Saul. "Still sure you wanna see how the sausage is made?"
"I need to," Saul replied, voice resolute. "I need to know. For my people."
"Fair enough," Arthur said, pulling away from the Aldecaldo camp. "But remember... curiosity killed more than just cats in Night City."
They drove in silence for a while, passing empty roads, rusty husks of abandoned vehicles, and the occasional flicker of a rogue drone overhead.
Eventually, Saul spoke again. "You think Panam's doing okay?"
Arthur adjusted the rearview mirror, meeting Saul's eyes. "Better than most."
"She's just a kid," Saul murmured. "She was always so fiery... wanted to fix everything. I just hope she hasn't burned herself out."
Arthur chuckled. "If anything, she'll burn Night City down before it burns her. Trust me. The girl's tougher than most NCPD captains I've met."
He paused. "Still naive, though. Like someone else I know."
Saul gave him a sideways glance. "You saying I'm soft?"
"I'm saying you're still clinging to some hope that the system can be bent instead of broken."
"And you?"
Arthur smiled. "I'm the guy who sells armor to both sides and bets on the explosion."
They both laughed softly.
As the miles rolled by, Saul sent the coordinates of the Red Ocher outpost to Arthur's dashboard.
"Here," he said. "They're based in the old radiation shelter northeast of Ridgeview."
Arthur tapped the screen. "Got it."
Then, after a moment, he added, "Let's find out j
ust how deep the rabbit hole goes."
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