21.

SNIPER, CUNNING, BLOODSHED.

I ain't exactly a poet, so I never really know how to describe things the way a poet would.

Safe to say, though: Elpis is a big-ass ball of white rock that keeps getting bigger the closer you get.

From Pandora she looks real pretty. Many a night I'd bathe in her, watching the moon as she watched me. Thing 'bout a full moon-which Elpis is at all times; no halves, no crescents-is she lights the planet her own special way. The sun's gaudy, likes the attention, but Elpis is shy and gentle.

Reckon I'd take moonlight over sun's any day of the week.

"Hope," Jessup says as Elpis fills our screens. A sadness cradles his awe-or maybe it's the other way around. "Pandora opened the box given her by the gods and at the very bottom, buried under the sins of the world, was Elpis."

"You gone space crazy?" Scooter snorts, fit to burst. "Can't fit the moon in a box."

"It's a story, told me by my old granny. Elpis, the Greek spirit of hope, was trapped by the ancient gods of antiquity because . . . well, she never did say." Reflected in his eyes, the moon that shines does so from ten thousand sun-downs ago. "I suppose, if you wanted to look at it like a psychiatrist, that's the why of my enlistment. Despite all the bad stuff, under all the war and hurt: hope. That's what I wanted to be."

Which only makes Scooter howl harder. "Bull shit! I known you since you was Lance; you enlisted fer the credits, same as everyone else. You're pulling this romantic bull-hockey out yer a-hole."

"Well, sure," he says, shifting awkwardly. "But let's say there was no cash involved, and no chance of me being killed, injured, or hurt. I could fight for hope."

"What about that?" Maggie May points to Helios, the capital H base over on the side of the moon that faces Pandora. We can only see the station's side from our position, but don't it feel like we're sneaking in behind Jack's back. "Would you fight for the sumbitches in there?"

"No ma'am. Atlas was bad enough, and compared to Handsome Jack General Knoxx was borderline sane. My Hyperion days were over before they began."

"Good," she says. "Got me a mislike fer soldiers. No offence."

"None taken, but there's still plenty of opportunity to get killed, so don't make your apologies just yet."

This is my first time seeing Elpis up close. From Pandora she's just a big marble, but here you can see impact craters, fault lines, dust-dunes, mountains bigger than any I ever seen. All the lines that give her a face are chasms, all the planes that look like oceans are plateaus. This close she ain't a nightlight, she's a place, and Helios hangs over her, casting her in shadow.

"It shoulda happened." I say. "They shoulda spotted us."

"Now there's a man who enjoys his pessimism." Scooter picks a a landing spot highlighted by the navicomp. Numbers 'n' letters appear to the side tracking data, as it fills the screen. "You buncha sad sacks oughta lighten up. Making me regret spending the potential last hours of my life in a tin can with a load of losers. Not you, Maggie May. You're hot."

"You're too fretful, D.P," says Maggie May. "It's like Ellie said. Hyperion's busy dealing with other problems. We're in the clear."

"I understand what you're saying," says Jessup, poring over the monitors. "But D.P.'s right. This close to Elpis we should have company."

"Who cares," says Scooter. "We're in the clear. And we're in the well, anyways. Too late to turn 'round."

Jessup's clearly unconvinced-and I feel for him. Maggie May's fine with our approach and Scooter's too gung-ho to care but something ain't right. After Hyperion dogged every step of my journey, now we find they've given in?

Elpis's sorry excuse for an atmosphere buffets 8005 as we drop down the gravity well. Ain't much in the way of turbulence, just enough to rattle the flight deck which is otherwise quiet as a whisper.

Maggie May's foot's twitching. Ain't the only thing, neither. Her mouth's puckering furious, like she's blowing tiny kisses.

"You okay?"

"Fine. Just . . . dandy."

"We'll find Junior," I says. "We'll beat the snot outta that lobster Veden and he'll be thankful to give up his location."

"Oh I know that," she says. "Just want to get it done."

"Okay, then." And then, 'cause I feel I need to add something else. "I got your 'n' me, proper folks."

But she don't say another word 'til we're suited, out the airlock, and on our way to the Hyperburbs.

Now, I've never been to Elpis. Spent a mess of time on Pandora, 'cause that's where I was brought up, but even though it's only a plane ride away the moon never held appeal.

Thing is, Pandora's downright hostile and she doesn't attempt hide that. Bandits, mutants, soldiers, monsters, lava flows, volcanoes, sub-zero temperatures, sentient venereal disease. Most days all she cares to do is inflict pain.

First thing I notice 'bout being planetside on Elpis is how unfeeling she is.

Suit rides up in the crotch somewhat. Everyone but Ellie wears an ill fit.

"Sorry," Ellie says over coms. "Best I could do at short notice. Don't mine look good, though? Been gathering moths at the back of my wardrobe for years, but look at this, I ain't gained a pound."

She gives a twirl, the elegance of which is somewhat offset by the honking great stabilisers strapped to her legs. The strength-enhancing exo-frame strapped to her limbs and mid-riff makes her an imposing figure, and that's before you get to the piledriver in her waldos. Thing's scaled down from the machine that saved my ass, but it's still long as a punch bag, with a pneumatic piston'd crack a meteor clean in two.

She clomps back 'n' forth, leaving inches-deep prints in the moon's crust. Can feel it rather than hear it, just like 8005's jets as she prepares for lift-off.

"Watch your hide, sis," Scooter buzzes in from the cockpit. "An' don't be afraid to call fer help if the situation goes haywire. Momma'd kill me if she found out I let you die up here, so, watch it, all right? Same goes fer the rest of you losers."

8005's downdraft stirs up moondust as it circles slowly before heading into orbit

"That's our Scooter," Ellie says. "Biggest worry wart this side o' Themis. Put it down to Momma breast-feeding him 'til he was six."

"Ellie? You know the channel's still open, right? I kin hear every word y'all are saying, and I stopped feeding aged five-five!"

"Oops." She presses a button on her ECHO. "Scooter? Scooter? Good, he's gone. How you folks like Elpis so far, anyways? Pretty swanky, no?"

"Don't like not bein' able to breathe," says Maggie May.

"Right," says Jessup. "I always hated drops with a lack of a breathable atmosphere. You start with your oxygen tank full, but when fighting starts it's never enough. Manufacturers never seem to allow for the increased demands of combat. We'd always be running on fumes by the time combat was done."

"Well aren't you a pair of sunbeams?" Miss Ellie twirls again, this time with her pile-driver raised. There's a pair of assault rifles strapped to its sides, and grenade launchers on her shoulders. Inside the O2-bubble around her head she's smiling fit to split. "Beautiful's what this place is. I tell you, I ain't felt so light in years-I could almost jump fer joy. What 'bout you, D.P.? Surely you have some appreciation for the picturesque."

"It's real nice, Miss Ellie, but it's kinda hard to see where'm goin'."

"Well, that's why they call it 'the dark side of the moon'. Your suit's fitted with floods but don't switch 'em on just yet. Don't want to alert Hyperion now, do we?"

"We already have." Maggie May's craning her neck, looking at the starfield in twitchsome fear. "Just 'cause we can't see 'em, don't mean they aren't out there.

Our landing site's a table mesa, one of many arranged in a half-assed checkerboard. The whole area's dried and crazed like an ocean bed, with cracks themselves being several feet across and so deep there ain't no sign of the bottom. Thanks to the lack of gravity we jump over just fine, but it's hard not to imagine crustaceans with drooling mandibles, hungering in their depths.

"What kinda wildlife they got up here anyhow?" I try not to look down as I jump across. Make the leap easy; seems like on Elpis my new leg might be help rather than hindrance. "Can anything breathe here?"

Ellie jumps off the edge of another mesa, sending dust skittering in slow motion. "You'd be surprised. The moon's a haven for hardy critters. Dangerous ones too. Means, over the years, the folks that settled here got kinda blasé 'bout threats. Got themselves a funny accent too. Personally, I think it's cute."

She fills us in on the nature of Elpis's fauna as we bound onward. Seems we're all adjusting our speeds, trying not to outrun one another. Gravity lends our steps an ironic airiness, so's that one of us is always far ahead or far behind.

Not a one the creatures shows its face. Nonetheless, tension ratchets every half-mile we tread. Maggie May's right and she knows it. Moon creatures is one thing, but something's keeping Hyperion off our tail and in my mind that means we're running into a trap.

"I'm bored," says Gun's, clearer through the ECHO than he was through his speaker. "Are we there yet? Guys, you don't think that redneck pilot's macking on my chick, do you?"

"Good God, y'all," says Miss Ellie. "I know it mightn't seem like it but my brother's lust does have its limitations, If he's gonna talk smack Maggie May, can you pull out his wires or some such? Bad enough I gotta hear 'bout Scooters predilections from Mom."

"I didn't add him to our ECHO call." She turns Gun over, searching for an off-switch. "Must be malfunctioning."

"Malfunction? I added myself! To be perfectly honest, after hacking the satellite network I feel I've developed a thirst for it. Does anyone have any exam scores that need doctoring?"

As our speed slows and our eyes twitch skyward, Jessup takes point. He's rusty, and jumpy at that, but I admire the guy for getting back into the field after living the high life in Sanctuary. "Will you pipe down?" he hisses. "The enemy could be anywhere-hell, they're probably watching us right now."

"Pipe down yerself," says Ellie, bounding over a chasm. "No atmosphere means not much in the way of eavesdropping. Up here I can be all kinds of chatty Kathy, and there ain't no redneck neighbours throwing pipe bombs 'cause it's five ay-em and I'm singing karaoke."

"I'm talking about the gun," says Jessup. "Honestly, didn't relying on Hyperion tech strike any of you as a bad idea?"

"Gun ain't a turncoat, are you Gun?" says Ellie. "He's a five-ought cutie pie."

"I still think-"

"We got fliers." I'm hunkered down already, rifle on my knee. "Trio of Surveyors at one o'clock."

Jessup and Miss Ellie take cover behind crags while Maggie May vaults into one of the chasms, lands out of sight on a ledge. As I'm lucky enough to be bearing some immense new technology all it takes is the touch of a stud and my rifle drapes a cloak over us. Gun pretty as this needs an equally pretty name. Think maybe I'll call her Whisper.

"They seen us?" says Maggie May.

I shake my head-not that she can see it. "Just circling for now. Could take one out but it'd alert the others."

"Which in turn would alert all Elpis," says Jessup. "Unless we take them fast."

"We could do that," says Ellie. Her tone don't inspire confidence.

And ain't that the thing 'bout tight spots? Most folks freeze up when they find themselves in one. And Hell, we're all men and women of action, we've all waded knee-deep in the dead, but stealth's a different animal. If y'ain't the hunter you keep your head down 'til danger passes.

At least, that's how it works in theory. Most my life I been that other breed, the kind that waits 'til danger's moved on 'fore striking unawares.

But this time, danger ain't passing.

"I'll make the shot," I say. "Maggie May, you take th'other?"

"With what? Gun ricochets off tin cans; you know that."

"Ten kerjillion guns on Pandora and you bring the one useless against robots? We're on the moon! This is where robots come from!"

"Don't you start with me," she mutters. "Where'd you go now? I'll kick your ass."

Ellie cuts through the line like a saw blade. ""Children. Allow me."

Jessup reaches to grab her arm. "Wait!"

'Fore he or anyone else can stop her she stomps out, ground quaking under her ire. "Ever played a ringer?" she says, and though I can't hear it I feel the whir as them launchers swing out and back like a coupl'a fairy wings. "I call this one rear right pocket split."

Thoom-thoom-thoom.

Three RPGs launch up into Elpis' lack of atmosphere. Vapor plumes fizzle in their wake, drifting like cotton candy. They fly high, propellant trailing from their rears, until the rockets all but disappear.

Then they're falling, way, way over where the surveyors frollic.

"Any second," she says, triumphant. "And you folks was all worried 'n' stuff."

They strike their targets and detonate. Smoke billows in a wide, flat disc.

When it dissipates, the surveyors is still intact, buzzing 'round like angry electrons.

Which is when spot her. Their eye-lenses turn red.

"I was trying to tell you." Jessup backs further against his crag. "They're shielded."

Now, I've told you 'bout surveyors before. What I might've held back-on account of not knowing at the time-is no matter how well they maneuver in Pandora's atmosphere, they go so much faster in a vacuum.

The speed with which they approach makes the ones I encountered some weeks back look downright tired. Lazy dogs they was, limping through the air to find a comfy place to lie down.

These dogs? They're greyhounds

"Ho-lee shit," says Miss Ellie, opening fire-hell, we've all opened fire by now; even Maggie May's blasting her sidearm. "These things is like chicken on hot snot."

"They're attacking 'stead of callin' help." I cue up a shot, miss, chamber another round, pull again. "That's good, right?"

"They're robots," says Jessup. "They could've called a hundred units on a hundred different frequencies and we wouldn't know 'til they stabbed us in the ass."

Thing I never did appreciate 'bout Jessup: his laconic demeanour.

"Try hitting them with electric rounds," he says. "Electricity, D.P., not whatever the hell you're using."

Maggie May empties her magazine, reloads and catches one, sending it skittering into space. Jessup's putting dings in its brother, but it's nowhere near out of the race and neither's number three, untouched but for Ellie'srocket rounds.

"Fall back," Jessup yells, taking his own advice and backing out of cover. He makes for the landing site. "A direct hit and they'll rupture our O2."

"Mr. Jessup," says Miss Ellie. "You seem nice 'n' all and I 'ppreciate your military expertise, but we only just got here. I still got cricks in my neck and I'll be damned if I'm cramming myself in Scooter's cargo hold again 'til they're healed, so with all due respect, balls to your tactical retreat."

Jessup's still firing in retreat, missing with almost every shot. "Fine!" he says. "It was a mistake signing up with you morons in the first place!"

I yell, missing again. Things're moving faster'n comets. "You're splitting the party!"

"Party? This is foolishness! This is death! Jack's going to capture us all and when he does-"

Foom. A blue arc shoots from the untouched drone and smacks Jessup clean off his feet.

Were this an atmospheric place-and forgive my constant diversions; now I'm on Elpis I find myself missing being able to breathe-you'd hear it crackling, smell the ozone. Instead, what we got is a soundl like a catpurse stealing your pocket money. Jessup's swatted up and away, falling feather-like into one of the canyons.

"Jessup!" I yell. "Shit!"

Before the surveyor hit him he was breathing so hard it tore up the coms. Now, his line's disconnected.

"Hell with this," says Miss Ellie, and then there's another foom up through m'boots as she crouches, fires her piledriver into the ground and shoots straight up into space.

I'm still watching, dumb struck, when the swimming thing chimes in.

See that? Do you see how incalculable ar the odds stacked against you and your friends? 'Cause what I see, sport, what I'm enjoying here my own private darkness, is one hell of a circus show. The clowns evacuate their clown car and-man, I just wish I had peanuts to throw at you.

"You shut up."

"Huh?" says Maggie May-all the while Miss Ellie's shrieking like an opera singer sand-bagged into the rafters.

"Nuthin'. I wasn't-I didn't say a damned thing."

It's so precious of you to think you could succeed where everyone else has failed. It's precious to think you'd come all this way thinking you could win. Let me put it like this: exactly how well do you think Roland's doing right now?

The world flashes. One second it's there, the next it ain't.

First thought is I've been hit by a surveyor, too. I drop Whisper, who tumbles in a slow barrel roll to the moon dust that ought to be at my feet, and I think: Jeezum Crow, I can't afford to lose another gun.

But I've lost already, ain't I? 'Cause even with my best intentions the voice is right: I came all this way, and for what?

It's like there's a loose wire in my head that almost connects as it reaches the apex of the swing but always swings right back the other away. I hear it, when the wires touch, I hear the voice as it swims into focus, and what it says I don't ever want to hear.

A million miles away Maggie May shoots the dented surveyor out of the sky. In a a maneuver of world class acrobatics Miss Ellie grabbed the last of the surveyors in a wrestling hold. It's panicking as her waldoes crimp its shell-boy is it scared!-but she holds tight and using its directional jets to fly toward the ground ground with increasing alacrity.

And this is it, isn't it? The turnaround that gives rise to false hope. Like finding a gemstone in manure, this is the moment when yer fortune gets realised and the battle is won.

'Cept darkness swims inside me, and as the wire finally connects-a good and proper connection-I realise shooting the moon was just about the worst thing I coulda done.

The voice surges forward, bringing with it the tide of someplace else. It shines into my head like a flash-lit puppet show, and what, what the voice shows me, is a dark and cavernous space where Roland . . .

It's the place where Roland dies.

And she's there, the Angel, and Handsome Jack's there too. And all the Crimson Raiders who took off, them Vault Hunters I butted heads with time and time again, they're all there just as helpless as babies as Roland screams his last.

Did I say peanuts? says the dark thing. Hell, I wish I'd brought popcorn.

"D.P.!" Maggie May's voice comes from far away. Even when she grabs my shoulder she don't feel any closer.

"There's more of 'em," says Miss Ellie. "A whole flock on the horizon. They're heading this way. We gotta find Jessup and split."

There's a beep as she puts an ECHO call through to Scooter, and Maggie May's shaking me so hard it makes my eyeballs roll, but these things happen far away, secondary concerns to the death knell playing in my head.

'Cause under circumstances such as these, even an optimistic sumbitch like myself has to ask himself: if a guy like Roland can fall in battle, what the hell kind of hope do we have?

You know the answer to that one, sport, says the swimming thing. We both know the answer to that one.