Part VI: Guns and Toasters

Helo laughed in pleasure when he saw the vehicle. It looked like it was a 4-wheel drive civilian transport, designed for off-road travel, with a flatbed in back for cargo. Probably not as fast as a Warthog, but it'll do.

"The chassis is reminiscent of old Earth designs." Cortana chimed in.

"Which one?" The Chief murmured, softly enough so the two pilots couldn't overhear.

"Accessing… seems to be closest to the H-M-M-W-V design, American, late 20th century. If the characteristics are the same, it should take your weight in back without much of a problem."

"Much?"

"Short of riding a tank, Chief, most vehicles have a problem with your weight. Maybe you should think about dieting."

He could see her blue figure smiling in his mind's eye.

"Smartass."

The two pilots climbed in the front with Starbuck driving. The Chief clambered up onto the flatbed in back. The vehicle squeaked and groaned, buckling under the weight slightly. Starbuck leaned her head out of the driver's side window and stared daggers into the Chief's helmet.

"You trying to frack up our ride?"

"Sorry." John replied. "I weigh close to a thousand pounds in this suit."

Starbuck snorted and ducked back into the cabin. The thing started without much of a problem, which surprised the Chief. Judging from the state of her apartment I thought Thrace wasn't much for maintenance. She didn't even bother to unlock the gate in front of the garage, simply barreling through it as she drove onto the city street.

They headed west first, away from the city as fast as possible. The terrain wasn't as undulating as it was near the spaceport but it was nearly as wooded. After about an hour the vehicle turned south, as planned. John had told them his crash location, saying he had extra rations and weapons still in the pod, and the 2 pilots had agreed to pick them up.

They angled southeast. The idea was to drive until they were south of the crash site then double back toward the city, north. Hopefully, if anyone was following them, they would be thrown off the trail long enough for the 3 to gather everything at the site.

But like most plans, things didn't work out as expected.

They were within a mile of the site when the Chief saw blips appear on his motion sensors. He quickly knelt by the back of the vehicle's cabin and rapped on the metal backing. Starbuck hit the brakes and brought the truck to a halt.

"What?" She asked.

"I'm picking up movement, 5…"

"7 Chief." Cortana corrected.

"7 signals, south of us. About 200 meters out."

"Any idea what they are?"

"No. My scanner just picks up motion. But you and I both know they're probably Cylons." He paused. "They're moving parallel to us, heading towards the pod."

"They're probably on foot. We can beat them there. Buckle up." The pilot grinned and gunned the engine.

"Estimation Cortana. Probability…"

"That you can load the rations and weapons before a probable Centurion force arrives? Based on available data of the Centurion's speed, probability that they hear the vehicle's engine, terrain variables…"

"Cortana…"

"31.5 percent. Assuming you help the 2 of them load and discover the exact site quickly."

The depression where John had landed seemed undisturbed from the day before. The cloak appeared to be still intact, which normally would be a good thing. Except the Chief needed to deactivate it quickly, which meant he needed to find the container's outline, then find the device, then feel around it for the activation switch, hopefully tripping it.

"There's nothing here!" Helo exclaimed when the truck came to a stop. The 3 leapt out and headed into the depression.

"That's because I put a cloaking device on the pod." The Chief replied, holding out his hands palms upward as he searched for the container. "It hides it from view. Watch your…" BANG! "…step."

Agathon had smacked his face against the container wall and was rubbing his cheek in pain, cursing. "Think Helo found it John." Starbuck said shaking her head with a small smile.

Unfortunately it took the Chief over 10 minutes of fumbling around to locate the device. He quickly deactivated it and attached it to his waist. The 3 rummaged about inside. The pilots were most eager for the food, and the two of them lifted the ration container with a grunt and slowly carried it up to the vehicle. The Chief picked up the sniper rifle inside and grabbed a satchel of ammunition for it and ran ahead of the pilots. They were all anxious to leave.

"What the … frack …is that thing?" Thrace asked between breathes. "It's … huge!"

"It's a sniper rifle. Fires bullets about the length of my hand." The Chief replied. He reached the truck and climbed up the flatbed, depositing the rifle and ammo before turning to help the Colonials load the food container.

"Why the hell would you need ammo that big?" Helo asked with a grunt as he shoved the container onto the flatbed.

"If you've seen some of the things I've had to kill, you wouldn't ask." The Chief pulled the container further on the flatbed and stood up. Almost on cue, a blip, then 2 then 4, appeared on his scanners to the southeast. "Uh-oh."

"Picking up something again?" Thrace said, grimacing.

"Yeah."

"Estimate 5 percent likelihood of loading the remaining cargo before contact Chief." Cortana chimed in again.

"Look, we're not gonna make it before they get here. There's still a lot of ammo in that pod, along with two pistols. You should get most of it in three trips, it's in a bunch of satchels. When you've got everything you can carry, throw this in through the hatch." He tossed Helo a frag grenade. "Press the red button on top then run like hell. It's a timed explosive. Should make a nice boom."

He jumped of the truck and took a few steps towards the contacts.

"Where the frack are you going?" Thrace growled.

"I'm buying you time. I'll hit them from the north, try to draw them to towards the city. Then I'll double back west. There's a gully about half a kilometer northwest of this spot. It's on your map. Meet me there."

Thrace frowned. "Let's just blow the stuff up now."

"Can't. The explosion will have them running right to us. They're only 200 meters out. Besides, I need that ammo you'll be carrying."

He turned and sprinted through the trees, angling to end up north of the blips on his scanner. He had run for only 15 seconds when he noticed a second set of contacts. 7 were closing in on the pod, 150 meters out now, and another group was approaching from the southwest, nearly 300 meters out. Neither could see the crash site, as it was located atop a small rise fortunately. He was just barely picking the second group up.

"Tactical assessment." The Chief commanded.

"Ambush is your best option." Cortana replied. "Keep on your current heading for 10 more seconds, then drop down and lie in wait. Recommend you activate the cloak, it should hide you as the contacts pass by. Then open fire if necessary."

"Got it." John said, sprinting along. "How long will it take those 2 to finish loading?"

"Depending upon how many satchels they take per trip, 5 to 6 minutes. The explosion should tell you when they're done."

He followed Cortana's instructions, selecting a small log to lie behind. There was plenty of wooded cover behind him, he was almost certain to need it. The crash site was maybe 70 meters away. Already he was hearing the clanking sound that heralded a Centurion's approach. He waited 30 seconds, then activated the cloak.

All told, he had been lying still for perhaps a minute when the first Cylon passed in front of his position. It turned to its right, looking directly at him. Its red eye lingered over the log he was behind, then it turned and continued walking towards the crash site. The remaining robots were spread in a search line to the machine's left. He could see all 7.

The Chief brought the assault rifle to his shoulder and aimed at the closest Cylon.

One burst, one kill.

The robots didn't have time to react after the initial rounds felled the first Centurion. By the time the remainder had turned towards his position, he had aimed, fired, and dropped another target with a second burst. Like a herd of deer the remaining 5 scattered, diving, jumping, and running for any cover nearby. He fired another two bursts, striking a third robot in the shoulder but the thing kept moving. The rifle clicked on an empty chamber; he'd never reloaded the half empty clip from his earlier encounter.

He retreated behind a large tree nearby, reloading on the run. The Centurions' fire tracked his path. One came bounding from a bush to his left, trying to flank him. He dropped to one knee and raised his rifle, followed the Cylon's path in his sights, and fired 2 bursts, blowing the thing's head off and igniting a small explosion.

"3 down, 4 to go." He spoke aloud. A buzzing coming from his hip told him the cloak had dropped and needed to recharge.

"Not quite John. Check your scanners." Cortana replied in a grim tone.

He looked at his motion sensors again. The second group was rapidly moving toward his location, 225 meters out and closing fast. He could now make out their numbers. It wasn't another group of 7.

It was 30.

"Shit."

"Recommend you retreat an additional 20 meters. Try to draw these 4 into the open."

But the robots didn't fall for the bait. Once ambushed, they proceeded cautiously, always placing some kind of cover in front of them. Having seen the fate of their 3rd dead comrade, the Centurions were no longer going for the fast kill, the enfilade.

He waited for any targets to appear, and when none showed, tried to run out from his new spot of cover, a small boulder, and head north. The Cylons opened up, firing from a line of small pine trees southward. He quickly ducked back in cover as a round struck home, diminishing his shields slightly. He rose to a standing position, firing the remaining rounds in his clip at the gun flashes in the trees before ducking down and reloading. More rounds had hit him, but the shields remained intact. Perhaps 2 minutes had passed. One trip. 2 more for the rest of the cargo.

He checked his scanner again. A group of 5 signals had broken off from the larger force to the south, now only 150 meters away but slowing its approach. The second cluster was paralleling the bigger group, angling northeast at a much faster pace. Suspicious, he dove out from behind the boulder, rose to his feet, and ran behind a large log to the east. The robots fired again, but the rounds were noticeably less accurate.

They're trying to drive me into a firing squad.

"Options Cortana?"

"None that are good. Thrace and Agathon will need at least an additional 2 minutes to finish loading."

He rose from behind the log, firing 2 bursts before dropping back into cover again. "How long until contact if I let them coax me eastward?"

"Not long enough."

"Damn." He rose and fired another burst. 2 rounds struck him in return, reducing his shields to 65 percent. He ducked and waited for them to repower. The large group was now 125 meters away.

A beeping noise at his waist told him some good news. The cloak had recharged. An idea sprang into his head.

"Hang on, Cortana." He activated the cloak and bounded over the log.

"John what are you..."

He sprinted full tilt towards the 4 Centurions in the trees south of him.

"Oh boy."

He covered the ground in perhaps 10 seconds, slinging the assault rifle onto his back and unlimbering the shotgun. The Centurions fired, but they could only see the bushes moving where the Chief had been, not where he actually was. The rounds missed, and suddenly he was amongst them.

He dove through the tree line, winding up flat on his stomach beside 2 robots. They turned and pointed their arms in the direction of the opening in the brush, but did not fire, their heads looking left and right for any trace of him. He rolled onto his back and fired his weapon into the torso of the nearest Cylon, blowing it backward in a shower of sparks. The thing's companion fired over his head, still not able to see him. He chambered another slug and fired once more, tearing the second machine in two.

The other pair of Centurions apparently realized the Chief was invisible and began firing in a wide arc along the ground. A shot clipped his leg as he rose to his feet, causing the cloak to fail. The robots continued to fire, causing his shields to blaze yellow. He fired, pumped the action on the shotgun, fired again, all the while charging towards them. One of his shots went wide, the other striking one machine on its hand. By the time he was upon the Centurions his shield gauge read 35 percent.

He slammed the butt of his weapon into the torso of the nearest robot, causing it to fall backward. Its partner swung a clawed hand at him; he ducked, tripping it with a roundhouse kick to the foreleg. Rounds struck him full in the chest; the thing's partner had sat up and started shooting. He coolly turned and fired his shotgun, destroying the machine. Then he pointed his weapon skyward and slammed the butt down onto the head of the 4th Centurion, once, twice, three times, until it was a bludgeoned mess.

He'd gotten lucky. The last shots had completely drained his shields. The large group of Cylons was still 50 meters away, he could see their metal bodies flash in the woods southward, but fortunately they hadn't fired on him yet. He ducked back behind the tree line, slinging the shotgun back and readying the assault rifle again.

"Time Cortana."

"One minute" was the reply. His shields rapidly recharged, and he waited for a clear shot. It didn't take long. He aimed at a Centurion which came into view 40 meters away. One burst dropped it.

There was a pause, then the world erupted in geysers of dirt and sparks as all the remaining Cylons fired on the pines. He flattened against the earth as what felt like a hurricane of bullets tore the air over him. He crawled on his belly for several meters until the fire slackened, then rose and darted for the log he'd used before his mad charge.

An explosion echoed through the trees. Cargo packed. Let's get the hell out of here.

He rose and sprinted for another boulder further north. The throng of robots following him were apparently advancing slowly. He hadn't seen any clear the pine line south but was still picking them up on his scanners. He dove behind the stone, ending up behind it and another tree nearby for cover. Pausing to catch his breath, he stood and searched for any signs of movement.

He'd forgotten about the smaller group of 5, but they hadn't forgotten him. The Chief was rewarded with a burst of rounds that struck him in the stomach and waist. He quickly ducked behind the boulder, thankful that his shields had only fallen to 75 percent. Fire was coming to the east. He rose over the boulder, just enough to fire at a cluster of bushes where he thought the Cylons were hiding, and squeezed off a few rounds.

More shots tore into his position from the north. The Cylons had flanked him. He was boxed in. He ducked back down behind the boulder, inching towards the tree, and leaned out. He could see 2 Centurions using a large tree for cover, perhaps more.

"Use the cloak John!" Cortana yelled.

He reached down to thumb the activation switch, but nothing happened when he pressed it. He looked down. A round had struck the cloaking device. It was broken in two, one piece dangling from several wires. He tore it away in anger.

He swung around the tree, fired two bursts at the Cylons north of him, ducked down, rose over the boulder, and fired at the Centurions eastward. He looked south. There, emerging from the tree line, was a line of at least 20 Centurions.

"This isn't looking good." He said aloud.

The sound of an engine roaring caused him to look northward again. There, Starbuck was speeding through the woods, aiming the truck straight at the Centurions behind the tree. The pair turned, opening fire, their rounds pinging off the front of the vehicle, to no avail. The truck slammed into the Cylons with a metallic crunch.

Starbuck leaned her head out of the drivers side window. "Come on!" She yelled.

The Chief leapt from the boulder, running straight for the two pilots, the Cylons' fire stitching a path behind him. With a jump, he landed atop the flatbed. The truck buckled under his weight. "GO!" He yelled. Rounds banged off the side of the flatbed.

Starbuck gunned the engine and headed northeast, down a small incline. In a few seconds they were out of sight of the Centurions. The firing immediately ceased. They turned east now, streaking through the woods.

For the moment at least, they were safe.

The Chief leaned over the driver's side of the cabin and knocked on the door. Starbuck rolled the window down.

"I thought I told you to meet me at the gully."

"You'll find I'm a frack-up when it comes to following directions." The pilot replied with a grin.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

They had driven until dusk. Starbuck had stopped the truck by a small creek. They'd created an impromptu campsite, no fire, but at least they could stretch their legs outside of the truck. The three were sitting with their backs resting on a tree.

"Well, this has been a fun day." Agathon groused.

Starbuck smirked. The Chief said nothing.

"I'll take first watch." Thrace declared.

The Chief nodded. "Thanks. I could use some sleep. Wake me next."

"Fine, John." There was a pause. "You're a soldier right? You got a rank and last name? Sounds pretty damn silly if everyone calls you 'Spartan John.'"

The Chief smiled a little beneath his helmet. "Rank's Master Chief Petty Officer, highest among the SPARTAN-II's. Don't have a last name Thrace. Just a number."

The pilot frowned and glanced at him. "No last name? You even remember you're parents or did they frack with your memory too?"

"Vaguely. I was kidnapped from my home as a kid."

"Gods."

"Friends call me Chief or Master Chief, Thrace."

"My friends call me Starbuck, or Kara…Chief."

John closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep.

Later, during the Chief's watch, a blip appeared on his sensors. There was only one signal. He tracked it as drew closer. He guessed it was across the creek when he stood up from beside the tree. The blip froze, then quickly retreated, away from the campsite.

"Wonder what that was…" he wondered aloud. Nothing else happened that night.