A Glimpse of the Future

They got on the elevated highway twenty miles north of the Underdome. The highway was the lifeline of the Parched Fathoms, connecting T-Bone Junction, Lockdown Palace and of course the Underdome, far above the dangers of the Skag- and Drifter-infested deserts below. One of said Drifters had taken an unhealthy interest in their car and tried to keep up with the Outrunner for a while, but otherwise their drive had been undisturbed. The sun was slowly rising, when Linda weaved through the debris at the foot of the slip road. Hox had not fancied riding another tour in the turret, particularly after his long-winded rant about its shortcomings, but there was no other place for him to sit, unless he wanted to cling to the backside. After being thoroughly shaken and sandblasted by their drive through the desert, he was looking forward to the smooth ride on a concrete road.

The highway was deserted. Linda happily stepped on the gas, but Hox was getting suspicious. He had come through here before, just after arriving on the planet. There had not been much traffic, agreed, but this was not normal.

„Maybe keep it down a notch", he suggested through his ECHO. „And ditch your mask, if you can."

It took a moment, before he received an answer. „Why ditch the mask?"

„You look like a bandit with it."

„And you and your bandana don't?"

„Not as much and it's quite easy to remove. This is Atlas territory. If the Lance shows up, I don't want you to get shot on sight."

„Awfully sweet of you."

„I like to live; fiery car crashes and shoot-outs with the Lance are a clear detriment to that heroic goal."

„Fair enough. Mask ditched."

The view into the dried-up seabed of the Parched Fathoms was magnificent to behold. Despite his feeling of unrest, Hox took every opportunity he could to glance at the dunes, the enormous whale-skeletons and the Drifters, which seemed small and even more spider-like from the distance. Sadly, it was just another wasteland. After spotting a couple of palm trees in Oasis, he had hoped for different biospheres somewhere on this planet, but a healthy mix of desert and junkyard simply seemed to be the domineering feature of Pandora.

They made a pit-stop at Moxxi's Red Light. Linda went in to buy breakfast, while Hox guarded the Outrunner. Various cars were parked around the arena and on the road next to the Red Light, but it was obvious that they had all come up from the nearby slip-road. Apparently, the locals avoided the highway.

The Underdome provided a constant background noise of cheering, shooting, shouting and occasional fanfares. Hox had seen several of Moxxi's gladiator games on his ECHO and was tempted to catch a glimpse of the real action, but then Linda returned with two plastic cups of coffee and two rations. They were supposed to have mushrooms, beans and bacon in them and surprisingly, if Hox' taste buds didn't betray him, they did.

"Next stop, T-Bone-Junction", Linda announced and threw her empty coffee cup into the wind.

This turned out to be an optimistic assessment. Just one healthy booster-charge after the Underdome, they spotted another vehicle on the highway, heading in their direction. It was a flat, menacing, armoured affair with a heavy turret gun poking out. Painted in Crimson Lance colours.

"Stop!", Hox ordered, while hastily ripping off the bandana he had tied over mouth and nose to protect them from the elements.

"Stop? I'll turn around and speed away before these fuckers come near me", Linda replied calmly while already turning the car around.

"Stop, leave the talking to me! I have my way with the Lance."

"You're giving a lot of orders for someone hitching a ride."

"That's a lot to ask of you, but please, trust me in this. They won't shoot on sight."

"Funny, their usual ROEs are the exact opposite."

"Then let me get out and walk towards them."

"You're that sure?"

"Yes, I am that sure. I'm something of celebrity with the Lance."

"If this goes awry, I'll kill you for all eternity down under, because I doubt anyone in this car will get the pearly-gate-treatment", Linda said through gritted teeth, while turning the car back to facing the Lance vehicle and stopping.

The armoured car had closed in, but when the Outrunner stopped, it slowed down. Hox raised both hands in a gesture that while known was usually not respected on Pandora.

Half a minute later, the Lancer was standing directly in front of the Outrunner and had as of yet failed to fire a single shot. A hatch opened on the back and the gunner peered out, while both the driver and the front seat passenger were sticking their helmeted heads out their windows.

"Well look at that", the gunner exclaimed. "Is that really Papers?"

"The real name is Huxley, but yes", Hox replied.

"You got a permit for operating that turret?", the gunner continued happily.

"Couldn't find anyone ready to issue me one. Sorry, I will rectify the matter as soon as possible. Seeing as you are the first other car we've encountered so far, is it safe to proceed?"

"This is Pandora, this is the conceptual antithesis of safe", the front seat passenger muttered, sounding bewildered.

"Depends", the driver said. "Where are you going?"

"To T-Bone-Junction. This car needs some crucial repairs."

"Isn't he quite a long way from home?", the gunner piped in again. "Folks told me he's usually hanging around that backwater Desert's Eye?"

"Yeah, he is", the driver acknowledged. "And by the way, you can ask him yourself, it's not as if Papers isn't listening."

"Do you want my travel plans?", Hox asked with an eyeroll. "Unfortunately, I don't have them printed out."

"Is this guy for real?", the front seat passenger asked.

"Ah, don't mind Jessup here", the driver chuckled. "He's new, just dropped in with General Knoxx' reinforcements. Hasn't heard the legend of Papers yet."

"Well, I didn't learn about Crawmerax until half a month ago", Hox replied shrugging. "So, may we go on?"

"We'll escort you to the nearest roadblock", the driver replied stoically. "There you will report in to Commander Typhon. You'll properly identify yourself, state your business and then, maybe, if he's in a good mood, the Commander will grant you and your car a pass."

"Maybe?"

"You know we're just dragging you back to the outpost so the others can have a laugh as well?", the driver asked in a sudden fit of sincerity.

"You are the people with the biggest guns and the biggest military presence on this world, if I have to endure a little laughter, I'll happily do so, as long as I'm not antagonizing you lot."

"He has to have an agenda", Jessup muttered sceptically. "He HAS to."

"I intend to survive, that's my agenda."

"You're bonkers", the new Lancer declared and slid back into the car.

"But you're amusing", the gunner shouted and gave Hox the thumbs up.

"Always happy to do my part", Hox sighed and returned the thumbs up.

"And it goes like that every time?", Linda asked, as they left the roadblock behind. The side of the Outrunner was freshly spray-painted with an UV-sensitive Crimson Lance symbol, which would allow the vehicle to be identified as a friendly by any Lancers, as well as the sensors at the other roadblocks; they seemed to sprout on the highway like mushrooms nowadays.

"They don't take me seriously, I usually return the favour and it works for everybody", Hox said modestly. "They know I'm a merc, they probably know I'm quite a good shot and they have a pot running on how long I'll make it. Not kidding."

"Huh." Linda sounded bemused. "I never considered that manners and bureaucracy were the way to go with these bastards. Booster."

"Thank you!", Hox replied and braced himself, as the engine was fired up with a surplus of fuel and nitrogen. "I'm quite sure it's not just the manners. I really believe it's the combination: Off-world adventurers are not uncommon, off-world adventurers with a sense of civility, that's a rarity. All the others are mostly wanted men in the core galaxies and shoot indiscriminately."

"That's disturbingly true", Linda acknowledged. "Oh, and will you look at that!"

They highway had been winding through rocky outcroppings and tunnels, but as the Outrunner rounded the next curve, the view opened up considerably on a town that was unmistakably T-Bone-Junction. It clung to the highway like shellfish to a cliffside, bolted and welded to it by means of heavy-duty steel girders. The town's name was brightly displayed over the only junction in town, where the highway crossed with a single road that curved and rose to finally cross over the highway. The buildings were surprisingly sturdy, lots of concrete and to Hox' utter surprise lots of advertisement posters. As the Outrunner slowed down and turned left at the crossroads, he had already seen posters for Dahl, Atlas and, as always to his particular delight, Hyperion.

Linda drew up in front of a big garage with an even bigger sign advertising 'Scooter's' over the roll-up doors and sounded the horn. "Hoi, Scooter, there's paying customers out here! Customers with tits, mind you."

Hox bent over the rim of the turret to throw his driver a quizzical look.

"He tends to react faster, whenever I mention it", Linda answered indifferently.

One of the roll-up doors shuddered and opened very slowly, while a voice was happily calling from inside: "Well, come in then, come in! No use of y'all standing out there, get yer beautiful ride in, beautiful Miss. How're ye doing, sweetheart, been a while since ye honored me with ye being in town."

Linda manoeuvred the Runner into the garage and Hox got a first look at the man that had boldly been called the best mechanic this side of the galaxy. Said man grinned at him from beneath several streaks of engine grease that zig-zagged across his broad, innocent, beardless face. "Howdy, stranger. Welcome to Scooter's garage and car repair, where ye will always…" He paused dramatically and struck a pose. "CATCH-A-RIDE!"

"Undoubtedly so", Linda nodded, turned off the ignition and climbed from the cockpit. "You've got anything on your plate?"

Scooter gestured to a sturdy six-wheeler that wasn't yet much more than a chassis. "Been working on that there beauty for a while now. New ride to go into the system, ye know? Gonna call it the Monster! That'll be one awesome Skag-punching death on wheels machine. But if ye got something for me, that takes priority, of course."

"Of course", Linda repeated. "I want to make some customisations to the turret."

"Surest thing! What do ye want to be done? Hot staggering motor oil, that is one nice launcher, by the way. Any idea what that'll be worth?"

"It's not for sale. Concerning things that need doing, you better ask my partner up there for the specifics. He has an entire list of modifications and changes."

"So ye're a black-thumb too then?", Scooter asked Hox who had just climbed from the turret. "Always nice to meet a brother in arms, so to speak. Well, rather a brother in pliers, wrenches, ratchets and welding equipment."

"I'm more of a planer", he replied quickly and shook Scooter's hand. "I'm more into the 'what' rather than the 'how', though, in all modesty, I'm rather adept at that, too."

"Whatever, just tell me what ye want and I'll tell ye if I can do it. And how much it will cost", he added towards Linda, delivering the first serious expression since their arrival.

Linda was in the middle of stretching and just grinned. "I'm fresh off a job, I think I can handle your rates."

"Ye know ye could lower them somewhat by lowering something else, if ye get my drift?", Scooter asked hopefully. "No offence, ye're paying customer and all that, it's just been…"

Linda rummaged in the inner pockets of her jacket, pulled out a convoluted magazine and tossed it at the mechanic. "I'll throw this in, rates lowered?"

Scooter caught the magazine mid-air and unrolled it. "No, because ye picked one with Moxxi on the cover."

Hox was genuinely surprised to see Linda's face fall. "Oh. That's… sorry, my bad. How about this one?"

Scooter caught a second magazine. "Much better!", he grinned. "Now then, fellow black-thumb, tell me all about yer plans."

Working with Scooter was at the same time awe-inspiring and incredibly frustrating. Linda had been right; the mechanic was the best Hox had ever seen. His knowledge of cars was complete to an extent that almost defied booklore, his intuitive understanding of anything machinery-related was flawless. But intuition didn't teach anyone vocabulary and thus the explanation of Hox' plans took the better part of an hour. A shocking amount of technical terms simply eluded Scooter. After a while, Hox resorted to showing the parts on the car itself or scrabbling down quick sketches and once he had something other than "super-hyper-technical big words mumbo jumbo" to deal with, Scooter understood without fail and on several occasions proposed immediate, sensible improvements.

Eventually they could go to work. Linda had dozed off on a stack of tires during the planning phase, but once power tools were creeping up on her precious car, she was on her feet again and kept a watchful eye on the proceedings. Wherever she could lend a hand, she did so.

"She's a right beauty that one", Scooter said approvingly, after the access panels had been removed. "Everything in place, everything in shape, everything oiled and lubricated. Real shame, ye know, ye being just about the only customer who loves their rides the way them need loving."

Linda just dipped her head in acceptance of the compliment, while Hox wondered briefly what some of the other cars had to look like that Scooter was maintaining. Though he had been on Pandora long enough to acknowledge that Scooter's evaluation of Linda's Runner was on point, even if it didn't fit core-world standards.

They had just removed the first electric turret-motor, when Hox' ECHO rang, which surprised him to the point that he dropped a screwdriver. It had been a long while since anyone had called him. Not since he had arrived on Pandora. For a very brief moment he wondered if anyone even had the number. Then he remembered the one person he had given his phone-callsign to.

"Bad news incoming?", Scooter asked sympathetically. "'Cause I must tell ye, man, ye look like yer motor just blew at full speed and boosted."

"Frankly I don't have a clue what news this will be", Hox answered, while unclipping the ECHO from his belt. "Can you excuse me?"

"Will do. Honest, I prefer turning all the screws tight meself."

Hox nodded absentmindedly and slipped out the door to the deserted street. He turned away from the garage and started walking up the road, while finally taking the call.

"Hey Jess", he said carefully. "How are you doing?"

"Hey Hox, when are you going to be back?", Jess answered urgently.

"Erm… not quite sure. Tomorrow, maybe. I'll have to consult with my driver. What happened?"

"It might be necessary… I think I'll skip town for a while."

Suddenly, Hox felt very cold. "Why? Have you done something… rash, regarding your personal little friend from the A-Brigade?"

"No, I've done nothing. But… Atlas has been asking around for me. A Private McSantosh was here yesterday, fresh blood, flown in with General Knoxx. He was asking for a girl named Jess. Toby, bless him, was a mushroom raised in the dark, fed with bullshit, but I'm still rather spooked."

"Huh. I can imagine. They homed in on you listening in on their radios?"

"Don't think so. Toby managed to get something out of this McSantosh. Apparently, he was doing a favour for 'one of the lassies.' I fear… I fear he might be talking about one of the assassins. The Lance has been around long enough to know everybody in Desert's Eye by forename, last name, cloth size and uptake rate of ammo. But these assassins and their crew… they are new and if they're planning something off their own grid… that's not good."

"Agreed. So, erm, as you've asked when I'll be back, do you plan to take me along as a bodyguard, when you skip town?"

"Yes. No. I mean, I'd very much like you to come with me, but not as a bodyguard, just as… you know, a travelling companion. You wanted to leave Desert's Eye anyhow, I feel the sudden urge to make myself scarce… we could just walk the path together for a while. Taking on Pandora together." A short pause, then she added sheepishly: "It made sense when I thought this up five minutes ago. If you want to stay in Desert's Eye…"

Leaden silence filled the ether.

"No, I don't want to, really. I like your plan, sounds all good to me. After this little field trip, I'd like to explore a bit. Actually saw some palm trees on the journey, maybe there is more out there than sand and wasteland. And… yeah, of course it would be nice to have you around… just, someone else to talk to, someone who knows her way around this hellhole..."

"Great." He heard her smiling. "Thank you."

"Anytime." Hox had been wandering up the road while talking on the ECHO and suddenly something caught his eye that made him stop. "Alright, now here is something equally funny and disturbing and I think I just might share it with you, if you're up for it."

"I'm Pandoran, I think our definitions of disturbing differ wildly."

"Well, here goes: I'm in T-Bone-Junction now, just taking a little walk and guess what? I came across a gun shop called 'Marcus Munitions'. At least that's what it says over the entrance. I never thought it possible but could Harrows have been on to something?"

"You could go inside and ask the owner if he has any interest in offing the gunsmith of Desert's Eye. Just remember not to buy anything."

"Goes without saying. Listen, I'll talk things through with Linda and I'll be back in town as soon as possible. Two days, max. Be packed and ready and if you think the ground is getting too hot, just get lost and ECHO me. We'll eventually run into each other."

"Sounds good to me. See you. Bye."

"Bye." Hox smiled when he clipped the ECHO back to his belt. And then, because he really wasn't in the mood to argue with Linda just yet, he entered the gun-shop. "Howdy", he cheerily greeted the paunchy man behind the counter. "Are you Marcus?"

"Marcus Kincaid, at your service", the man said with a winning grin. "I presume you're looking… you seem to be the assault rifle type."

"Not really, but I have a question: Are you planning to take every other weapons purveyor on this planet out of business?"

Hox returned to Scooter's about an hour later. After Marcus had shot his shield instinctively, fearing that someone had somehow linked "everything" back to his business venture, they had quickly cleared the air between them and as it was a slow day, Marcus had humored him with the stories he could tell about the Vault Hunters. Surprisingly, the arms dealer was a very invested storyteller who never indulged in self-advertisement as Hox had feared and been ready to deflect. While the stories seemed almost unbelievable by default, Marcus was telling them with a passion and an earnestness that gave the impression he had really met a woman who could teleport or a man who could break rocks in half. Eventually Hox had felt compelled to buy a weapon after all (a Masher-type revolver), as a little thanks, and he wondered if this, alongside a vigorous 'No Refunds'-policy made for a viable sales-strategy.

Linda had retreated to her stack of tires and was sleeping Pandora-style, with one hand on her sidearm. Scooter was sitting in the turret, spinning around like a child in a carousel and chuckling.

"How's it going?", Hox asked the mechanic.

"Ah, quite well, if I may say so myself", Scooter replied excitedly, stopped spinning and jumped back to the ground. "New bearings are in, new motors, well, two out of four, already did most of the wiring. We still need to find ye a nice gyroscope for that cool launcher, but the turning is smooth like a baby Skag's underbelly."

Hox climbed past Scooter and took his place in the turret. Gingerly, he stepped on the pedals and the centripetal forces almost yanked him from his seat. And that was just two motors. From now on the turret couldn't care less about where the car was pointing. A control system would need to be put in place, though.

"All them computer wizardry ye got to do by yerself", Scooter continued as if on cue and wiped his hands on an oily rag. "That's not my kinda business."

"And how much longer for your kinda business?", Hox asked.

"Oh, an hour or so", the mechanic replied casually. "Unless something else comes up."

"Is that so?"

Scooter smiled broadly. "Sure as a Crab Worm bleeds when ye run it over."

Hox whistled appreciatively. "I better get going then." He connected his ECHO wirelessly to the Runner's on-board computer, flipped up a holo-desktop and set to work. One more hour, add in another half hour for generally hanging about and they could be back on the road. If Linda was in the mood for it, and why wouldn't she be? Maps of Pandora were hard to come by, but he estimated the return to Desert's Eye to take somewhere around fifteen hours.

He typed a quick message to Jess: "Be there in approx. 17h."

She replied shortly: "Good to hear. I'll be packed and ready."

In the corner, Linda stirred. "How are things progressing?", she asked sleepily.

"Better than expected", Hox answered. "And after we're done, we can make straight back for Desert's Eye, can't we?"

"Technically I was going to offer you a permanent tenure in the turret", Linda said, carefully sitting upright and stretching. "But if you want to go back home, fine with me."

"Great." Hox couldn't keep the grin from his face. This was going to be good.