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Slackers of the Inner Sphere
Chapter 29: Highway To Hell

Bleak River County
Shoreham
Federated Commonwealth
9th October 3064

The car that Swindelli settled on looked like it had been around longer than he had, but it ran and had more than enough room for the four of them and all their gear. As promised, Detective Green had escorted them to the edge of his jurisdiction before waving them off along the seemingly endless duel-carriageway that drew a laser straight line across the landscape. They had been on the road two days before they even saw the distant mountains that they had to cross to reach Lancing City and the Eavesdown Space-Port where their shuttle sat waiting. In theory, it was a five day drive.

In theory.

Their first clue that things were not going to be as easy as they first thought was when they passed a road sign that listed the mountain pass they were headed for: someone had taken a can of blood-red spray-paint and crossed out its official name, replacing it with simply 'The Crucible', along with a skull and crossbones followed by the warning 'Abandon all hope ye who enter here!'

Swindelli ignored the warning, but was more than a little worried the next day when they were passed by a military convoy loaded with Pro-Victor troops headed for the front lines. The young men and women, most no more than teenagers, sat in open backed trucks, escorted by armoured cars and motorcycle outriders. It wasn't their youth or the way they held their rifles like they had only just been issued them that worried him; it was the fact that each and every one of them had the same thousand-meter stare that he had seen on the faces of veterans of the brutal civil war that had almost ripped the Free Worlds League apart when his father was young.

It took almost an hour for the column to pass them, with Swindelli loosing track of the number of trucks when he reached the high forties. There was also a hodgepodge of tanks and other AFV's, along with supply trucks, ambulances, engineering vehicles and towed artillery pieces. A flock of VTOL's kept watch overhead, shepherding their charge towards the front lines. Finally, the convoy disappeared into the gather darkness, leaving only the massive dust cloud it had kicked up in its wake.

"Dear God in heaven...." Swindelli swallowed as he pulled over to the side of the road and watched the last vehicle fade into the distance, "I knew the fighting down here was bad, but still!"

"They're no using BattleMech's." Sharpe explained from the back seat of the car, "The Militia got myest of theirs ower te Northhold when fowk started te trade more than insults, an the few they left fought a rear-guard action against Lord Fenner's forces. Ended up wiping each other oot "

"That is why he hired your unit?" Kerensky asked.

"Ah divvent think Fenner understands the war the Militia are fighting on this God-forsaken rock " The other mercenary explained, "They knaa tha they canna win a stand-up fight against Fenner: he can caal on massive re-enforcements frem off-world if he has te. But tha waad myek him loose face, so as long as the Militia keep frem bein seen as tee much of a treat, an ne-one at High Command takes note of what's happening heor, then the statuesque is maintained."

"Sounds about right for this messed-up excuse for a planet." Swindelli nodded, "Still, that's a bloody lot of troops!"

"You're still not getting it, Major." Sharpe smiled, "This planet has a population of close te, what, one, one-and-a-half billion? That's more than lived on Terra before the second global war, an they were able te field armies in the millions! True, when Ah forst got heor, Ah nivvor waad hev thowt tha regular infantry wez tha important on a modern battlefield, aside frem base defence or clearing buildings an the leik. But the Militia were smart enough te realise tha they had hundreds of millions of fowk in thor area of control, as well as factories tha could easily be converted te produce smaal arms an ammunition. Myest of his Lordship's so-called 'special security teams' are paramilitary polliss at best, hired thugs at worst. "

"So we all take a step back in time." realisation dawn upon Swindelli, "All sector command are going to worry about are clashes between Mech's or armour units: but neither Fenner or LaFollett have enough of either to win a decisive victory. So instead they just throw massive waves of infantry against each other."

"And we are headed for the front lines." Kerensky sounded unusually glum, "We need to find another rout."

"Agreed." Swindelli grabbed the map from behind the sun-visor and spread it out over the dashboard, muttering under his breath, "I'll never get use to these right-hand drive cars..."

As he sat studding the map, a pair of large black cars came into view in the rear-view mirror. They slowed as they reached the battered old station-wagon that Swindelli had bought cheep, one stopping behind them, the other pulling up in front. Kerensky looked up, and started to reach for his gun when he saw four men and a woman dressed in Blakist robes climb out of the lead car and walk towards them.

"What is it?" Swindelli asked, then looked round, "Oh hell's balls!" He opened the drivers side door and gestured for Kerensky to follow.

"Major Swindelli?" The apparently senior member of the delegation asked, "Major Ricardo Tiberius Swindelli?"

"You're looking at him." Swindelli let his jacket fall open, allowing the Blakist's to see his holstered .75 Recoilless.

"Greetings and salutations; I am Demi-Precenter Lazarus Jamal of the Blessed Word of Blake." The man had a smile like a the near-gator's that roamed the waterways of Cerillos, "I must say that it has taken my companions and I a very, very long time to track you down; you have led us on quite the merry chase."

"Look, if this is about what happened with that Manei Domini back in Coogan's Bluff, I have no idea why the crazy bitch attacked me." Swindelli shrugged, "And if you're handing out copies of The Watchtower or Battlefield Earth, then in all fairness I should let you know that I'm very happy as a Reformed Baptist."

"My dear Major, you truly have no idea what sort of trouble you're in, or what will happen to you when you're finally brought to justice." The Demi-Precenter laughed as his followers drew their weapons, covering both of the Mercenaries and their companions still seated in the car, "You might as well save yourself the pain and blow your own brains out right here and now."

"You're forgetting something; I'm a pimp," Swindelli grinned as he drew his Recoilless and pointed it at Jamal's head, "and pimps don't commit suicide."

"How dare you! Demi-Precenter Jamal is a god compared to you; a true disciple of The Blessed Blake!" One of the apparently more fanatical Adapts snarled as he leapt forward, almost foaming at the mouth, "You are nothing compared to him, a shadow of a man, a shell without the inner light that comes from embracing the teaching of Blake! Only true believers, strong in the faith, shall be saved come the day of reckoning..."

Swindelli contemplated the man's continued insane rant for a moment, then brought his gun round and fired. The first round caught the stranger in the right shoulder, the heavy bullet effectively removing the arm, leaving it hanging on by a few tendons. A second shot turned the man's right lung and liver into so much minced meat. A third and final shot removed the lower right quarter of the man's head, sending a cloud of blood, brain matter and bone fragments spraying out over Jamal, Hawksmoor and the others.

"Anyone else want to debate religion?" Swindelli asked somewhat mockingly, his eyes scanning the silent and surprised crowed before him. Kerensky used the confusion to draw and ready his own gun, keeping the open car door between himself and the Blakist's.

"We will add Adapt Samael's murder to your list of crimes." Jamal spat after regaining his composure, brushing a piece of skull off of his shoulder, smiling as a large number of heavily armed troops spilled out of the cars and surrounded Swindelli and Kerensky. "It's good to know that some things remain the same, no matter where you are, and that when it comes to bounty hunters, if you want the best, you'd better be prepared to pay for it." He smiled turned into a sneer, "Any last words?"

"Happy?" Swindelli looked at the lead bounty hunter in utter amazement, "Is that you?"

"Rick?" The other man looked back with an equal sence of disbelief, "What in the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, going by what just happened, I guessing you're here to kill me." Swindelli shrugged, "Normally I'd prefer it if you just arrested me, but considering who you're working for, I'll take a bullet to the head if it's all the same to you."

"You're shitting me!"

"Straight up!"

"This is the guy?" Happy lowered his gun and turned to face Jamal, "This is the guy you hired me to track down? Do you have any idea who this is?"

"It would seem, a friend of yours..." The Demi-Precenter mumbled, a deep feeling of impending doom welling up inside him.

"Friend? This is my mother's brother's sister-in-law's eldest, and that makes him family!" The bounty hunter explained, "And there is one rule that no one from Southwestern worlds would ever break, no matter what; you don't accept a contract on family!" he signalled his team to aim their weapons at the Blakists, then he turned to look at Swindelli, "Tell me, Rick; have these assholes been giving you a hard time?"

"Well now." The mercenary turned to look at Jamal with an amused expression on his face, "What do you think?"

To Be Continued...

The Slackers of the Inner Sphere:
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