A Horse With No Name
The burned out car wrecks of the Arasaka-backed Wraiths stood around everywhere, still unsalvaged for what few parts were undamaged. The now-familiar buttes of Monument Valley rose up all around them, far higher than the prefab houses of the former Navajo town, where they had done battle not so long ago.
Panam sat on top of the hood of her Warhorse, on a fine afternoon.
She was supposed to be looking to the north, along Route 163, where the Snake Nation crew were supposed to be arriving from to join the convoy. Instead, she was looking to the east, to the rock she had a conversation with V. It seemed like it had happened in another century, a time of slow, increasingly uncomfortable decline. Then had along come Alt and her idea.
Her throat feeling like it was closing with something other than thirst, she took out her canteen bottle and drank deeply, the cool water dousing the sensation at once.
"They're fucking late," Carol complained beside her, binos aimed in the proper, northerly direction, "The Bakkers always were useless shits, I see joining the Snake Nation hasn't changed matters."
Panam snorted. Carol's offence at their lack of timeliness was very her, and very funny. Unlike Arizona, Utah and Nevada had not been purged of their Raffen populations, though she was sure they had been whittled down some by the over ambitious joining the hunt against the Aldecaldos.
"They used to be great," Panam thought aloud, "Back in Santiago's day. Then their leader died, and her successors couldn't bear the weight of the crown like she could."
Carol lowered her binos. "How do you know a thing like that?" she asked.
"I asked around," Panam replied, "The fall of nomad clans suddenly became a whole lot more interesting when I got a crown put on my head. Learn from history or be swallowed by it, as V would say."
Carol smirked and returned to her watch on the road. "I'm glad we've got a leader that can bear the weight of the crown," she chuckled.
Panam's chest clutched. She had achieved much, pulling the Aldecaldos to fucking glory in both California and Arizona. But this latest caper... She worried, and V wasn't there to share it. Luckily, that's what the family was for.
"If we don't win this thing, I won't be able to bear it," Panam admitted aloud, "It isn't just V all-in on this thing, I'm all-in too."
"Best not lose then," Carol replied, gravely, "But the family knows the risks. Knew them when we hit Arasaka in the first place. Know them now."
Panam felt the pressure inside her disappear just hearing it. Carol was a gem, a diamond in the rough. Always had the right words. Could count on her word too.
In the distance, a red dust plume rose high into the sky, from behind one of the distant buttes. It was a windless day, so it wasn't blowoff from the rock.
"They're here," Carol confirmed.
It took another few minutes for the three Snake Nation vehicles to actually come into view without the need for a scope. They powered down the road at the fastest speed they could achieve without spinning off the dust-strewn asphalt, burning CHOOH and synthrubber pretty hard. Either they were in a serious hurry, which Panam doubted as they were already disrespectful enough to be late, or they were showing off.
"Nothing big," Carol thought aloud, "All fast, getaway cars."
Panam squinted, the swirling dirt in the air still in the way, but saw the same thing. The Snake Nation were were all driving high performance Quadras. Fast, could take a few hits, but not the sort of shocks the vehicles the other clans had selected, to say nothing of the beasts the Aldecaldos themselves had brought to the convoy.
"So they intend to escape, if things go to hell," Panam groaned, "Not a good sign. It's pretty much guaranteed that someone will try to stop us before we get to Eureka, so it's guaranteed they'll use it as an excuse to run."
"They haven't heard our case yet," Carol said, "You'll turn them around."
"I hope Alt hasn't been bullshitting us," Panam replied, "The information she gave us was pretty juicy. Maybe a little too much in the cases of some people."
"Some people put too much of their soul into their machines," Carol sighed, before realising what she was saying, "Not that I think V has... or maybe so. I don't know, he seemed as cyborg as any Malestromer I met in NC when he left, just hides it a little better."
Panam grimaced, not having anything to say to that. She shared the concern, but there was no time to discuss that. The Snake Nation's three cars were coming a halt in front of them. She repositioned her weight on the hood, leaning back on the windscreen with one knee up. She put on some aviators of V's too. The small comforts, or the appearances of them.
Only two of the drivers got out, and none of the passengers. Panam's palms itched, as she glanced at each vehicle's interior through the open doors. They had sent minimal crews, two people per vehicle. Another bad sign.
The leader appeared to be an average sized, clean shaven man with a serious clash of style.
Half nomad; leather boots to the ankle, dark blue sports pants with a white stripe up the side of them, tucked into the boots, black belt with a silver buckle in a snake motif.
Half corpo; white shirt with the top button and the cuffs undone, a charcoal business jacket hung over the shoulder, though it also had a snake motif sewn into one of its sleeves.
Panam wondered how he pulled it off, but it seemed to work for him. His short-cut salt & pepper hair was atop a surprisingly youthful face, and a bright smile was plastered all over it as he approached. That didn't work for him... seemed purposeful rather than sincere.
The second driver was far less cheery. She was nomad through and through in her style; black sneakers with faux-gold laces; grey jeans; a short white t-shirt, revealing little winged-devil tattoos on her stomach; a green sleeveless patch-jacket of the Snakes over the t-shirt.
Her hair was shaved at one side. The rest of it was dyed dark red from its natural brown and worn long just past the shoulder, framing a face with a spray of freckles across the cheeks and nose, narrowed but attentive eyes, and lips scrunched up in annoyance.
Panam recognised Snake No.2 immediately; she had been identified as someone who could be pushed, as there were pain points between her and the rest of the Snakes' leadership that could be exploited. According to Alt, anyway.
Yet, Alt hadn't mentioned Snake No.1 at all.
"You must be Panam," he said, his boots crunching as he walked up and offered his hand to shake, "I'm Nemo." He smiled even more widely.
Panam looked at his hand, and decided she better shake it before things got awkward. "Good to meet you," she said, shaking the hand, "That's Carol up on top, my second. The other nations' reps are around the place."
"Yo," Carol greeted, half-heartedly. She got a little wave in reply.
"This young woman with me is Valerie," Nemo continued cheerily, "You'll have to excuse her, she has something of a bone to pick with you. Or rather, your absent … colleague."
"Oh? Why's that?" Panam asked nonchalantly, wondering who he was talking about, "Did we steal something from you once?"
Valerie threw her hair out of her face, and aimed both eyes straight at Panam.
"Yeah, my name," she replied, "Once upon a time, anyone could call themselves V if they wanted. There's only one V today."
That was a chip on the shoulder if ever there was one, Panam thought.
"Nothing I can do about that," she said, flatly, "And there's no reason that Val can't be a name that rings out either. Just need the right cause and the right move."
Valerie kicked the dirt and walked off a little ways, pissed off. A troublemaker, one that shouldn't be with the Snakes if what was being said about them was true. Of course, Panam knew the story there, vaguely, courtesy of Alt.
"Is that what you are offering?" Nemo asked, "A cause and the right move?"
"More like a payday and glory," Panam admitted, "A cause would imply we need you committed long term. We don't."
"Don't suppose you'd save us the drive and tell us your crazy-fuck idea right now?" Valerie demanded, crossing her arms, "The North California coast isn't exactly dry this time of year, and since it's almost certainly Arasaka you plan to hit, we might as well get that little detail out in the open right now."
"How perceptive!" Carol mocked, "This one is a psychic, Panam, we must watch out!"
Valerie glared at her, while Carol did not so much as look at the Snake.
"While my colleague's manners leave much to be desired..." Nemo said, stepping forward as if to cut off Valerie, "Perhaps she has a point. Is it Arasaka you want to hit?"
Moment of truth, Panam thought, no point lying now. Or in telling the whole truth.
"Yes," she said, "Arasaka is the target."
"I see," said Nemo, his smile dampening down to almost nothing, "I was hoping that was not the case. We will hear you out, of course, but I'll tell you right now, I'm not optimistic about recommending this operation to the Snake Nation already."
"We'll convince you," Panam replied, with total assurance, "We are more capable than you realise."
The man shifted his weight and folded his jacket over his arm instead of his shoulder. Buying time to think.
"Oh, you are plenty capable," Nemo said, smiling once more, "The fact you are standing here after attacking the most powerful corporation in the world is proof of that. And the evidence is all around us; burned out wrecks in the desert, monuments to what happens to those who underestimate you. We would be fools to make that same mistake."
"Only reason we're considering it at all," Valerie conceded, "That and respect for the old ways. We're all still nomads, even the Meta."
"We will see," Panam said, more sceptical about that.
They entered Utah and drove northbound for six hours, night slowly falling around them as they moved. There were more direct routes; they could've went up US Route 93 to Nevada, past Las Vegas, through the central part of that state and then into North Cali.
But at the meeting to decide which way they would go, when Panam had heard that same proposal, her paranoia reached new heights. Apart from Vegas itself, which was a corpo playground, the rest of Nevada was utterly lawless. Raffen Shiv dominated everything south of I-80 and north of the Vegas suburbs.
The possibility of running into a large group of Shivs with the firepower to do some real damage was too large. The fact that Nemo had backed the idea made it even more of a bad one. Since his Snakes were set up to bounce at the first sign of trouble, it seemed like a cost-free way of getting his nation to reject contributing to the plan.
Panam could already imagine the response. 'The Aldecaldos can't even go interstate without messing up' and 'the Aldecaldos are going to get themselves killed'. It boiled her blood just thinking about it.
But she was the leader, she couldn't wallow in that shit. So she set out the best route. Up the east CANAMEX convoy corridor through Utah and then west across I-80. There were friendly clans to the north of that interstate that would help them, and Utah was pretty safe. It added some travel time, but she needed that extra time.
When they stopped for the night, they circled the cars like they were colonists of old by the side of the road, all around the big-rig that was the Aldecaldos' third vehicle, and settled in for the night. Most people were restless, not in the mood to go to sleep immediately. They ended up around campfires, talking or drinking a little.
Panam had planned to get the other clans that had followed her from Alpha Dome to talk to the Snakes, particularly to Nemo, to boost her chances. All of them had been on at least one contract with her nation in the past six months, and all of them had been successful. Getting a cut of a corpo bonus as an atta-boy for a job well done always raised opinions of a nomad nation's leadership.
Problem was that as Panam stood in the middle of the night camp, just about to make gentle suggestions to get the whole thing moving, she saw Nemo had already started making rounds. One of the Jodes' affiliates and the Blood Nation family leader had already been invited to his fire for a beer and a chat.
"He's quick," Carol chimed in, wandering over as Panam attempted to make it look like she wasn't staring, "Clever too."
"And totally against us," Panam added, "He's not here to listen to us. He's here to make sure we fail."
"Without a doubt," Carol agreed, "There's daggers in men's smiles."
Panam gave Carol a look. Quoting Shakespeare. Honestly.
"Well, fuck him," she said at last, "We'll see who is better at this. I'm a god damn clan leader, he is … actually, we don't know who the fuck he is."
"I'll send a message to Alt through that number she called us from," Carol said, "Along with a picture and description. There's no way this guy is completely off the grid."
"Tell her it's urgent," Panam said.
There was a pause, as she scanned the camp with her eyes. She couldn't find who she was looking for, but there were only so many places to hide.
"What're you gonna do?" Carol asked.
Finally, she found who she was looking for.
"Turn the knife," Panam replied, before walking off towards the centre of the camp.
She found Valerie around the other side of the big-rig, in the gloom away from where the fires were burning, looking over the massive vehicle with interest. Apart from an Aldecaldo, Joao, working on the rig's engine up front, the Snakes' No.2 was alone.
Panam walked up, not calling out to her. She seemed to be enjoying herself, inspecting the rig. But the crunch of her boots on the dry grass and soil must've given her away.
"If you're looking for an apology," Valerie said, without turning away from her inspection, "You'll need to pay eddies for it. Otherwise, not interested."
"Know better than to ask for that that," Panam groaned, stretching to get some of the kinks that six hours of driving put into her back, "Just wanted to talk."
"About what?" Valerie said, finally deeming her worthy of actual attention.
"Couple of things," Panam said, deflecting, "First thing is first though; you can't have the big-rig."
Valerie actually grinned at that, despite herself. Panam felt a little soar of victory. There was hope for this one yet.
"I could klep it, y'know?" Valerie shrugged.
"It is worth it," Panam admitted, "All sorts of fun."
"Automated turrets, including an anti-drone autocannon," Valerie nodded, "And if there aren't an army of mechs inside, I'll eat my boot. All klepped Arasaka tech. Why shouldn't I follow your fine example?"
"You wouldn't get very far," Panam smirked, "We can drive that thing on remote. You'd find the brakes locked up inside a minute, long before you can override the security, and the turrets on top will shred your friends' toy cars in seconds."
Valerie's amusement dampened. "Can't let a girl dream, can you?" she said, "Lots of that going around."
Panam saw her chance to use Alt's information.
"You say that because of what happened to the Bakkers?" she asked.
Valerie's head swung around so fast, it probably hurt. "How do you know about that?" she hissed.
"Winged devil tattoos are a pretty good giveaway," Panam lied smoothly, pointing at Valerie's exposed stomach, "The chip on the shoulder and rebellious attitude just completes the picture."
The ex-Bakker grit her teeth and leaned her full weight on both palms against the side of the big-rig, like she was going to throw up. "Fuck, I really did not need a reminder of this shit right now," she said, "Regretting my life choices badly enough without you throwing it in my face."
"I wouldn't say I'm throwing it in your face," Panam said gently, "More like reminding of you of who you really are."
She got a shake of the head for that.
"Who I really am is a sellout," Valerie said loathingly, "The Bakkers used to be something, to stand for something. Grew up living fat, or as fat as nomads ever do, learning the skills. Things went to the wall slowly, then the Snake Nation came with a nice offer, easy work and willing to pawn their own mamas for a corpo paycheck."
Panam wanted to make the point that her whole purpose was to hit the biggest corporation in the world, right then and there... but she needed to push more. Needed to make it seem like Valerie's idea.
"Why'd you sign up?" she asked, "If you hate how Snake Nation run things, why not bail and join another family?"
Valerie straightened up and turned around again. "Not sure I could live without the people I knew my entire life," she said, "Couldn't join another nation, there weren't any around anyway. Not like the Bakkers. Decided I would rather go to Night City, see if I could find merc work there, but in the end, I didn't."
Bingo, Panam thought.
"Looks like we have more in common than I thought," Panam said, "Before all this, I left the Aldecaldos for Night City to become a merc. Lemme tell you, it's not all it's cracked up to be. Though I did meet V there, and he put me back on the path to the family again."
A bite of the lip came in reply, at first.
"Ah, V," Valerie sighed, "Do you have any idea how many jokes I get about that name?"
"Plenty, I'm sure," Panam said, "I've been getting crap for 'Queen of the Highway' too, ever since word got back on that nickname." Only from Carol, though. The others were proud of it, but that didn't need to be mentioned.
Valerie crossed her arms, looking Panam over for a moment. "Look at us, two little peas in a pod," she said, "It's been a nice chat... but I'm not stupid. Let's talk business now."
"Smart girl," Panam smiled, "Your support could be vital to swinging the Snake Nation over to our side on this. Thought I could get you away from the others, talk to you."
"Well, here I am," Valerie agreed, "But I'm not going to make any decisions until I hear why we ought to hit Arasaka."
"You'll get that speech when the time comes," Panam said, "But there are reasons you ought to be the one to be in favour of it."
"Such as?" Valerie asked.
Panam drew closer to her mark, and lowered her voice.
"The Bakkers weren't a corpo crew with a nomad jacket on," she said, "They were a serious clan who lived this way of life like the best of us. That very way of life is under threat... but it's received a sliver of hope ever since we hit Arasaka the first time. You want to make the best of being with the Snake Nation? Convince them to go along with another assault."
"Preem points all," Valerie shrugged, "But it's not like I'm the one calling the shots. I was sent because I'm always talking about hitting corpo convoys or locations, I'm the hothead. Nemo though, he's the coldest son of a bitch in the entire nation. It's him you need to convince."
"He's already against us," Panam said, shaking her head, "And it's men like that who are the reason everything we know is under threat. Instead of standing up to the corps, he'll be the one to 'calculate' that it's too risky and that the best way is to give in."
Her mind wandered immediately to a thought of Saul, as she closed her mouth. He wasn't that bad though. He saw enemies closing all around and thought there was no hope, is all, until Panam had organised something to prove otherwise. The lump in her throat didn't go away though.
"If we don't go back with a single opinion, you'll likely still not get our support," Valerie said, "They'll call it too risky. Only way Nemo agrees to this is if every other nation does, and even then, it's a long shot."
That was more or less the signal that the ex-Bakker had liked what she had heard, but didn't feel she could do anything. Nemo was clearly the superior in her mind... but Panam knew that nomad hierarchies weren't anything like that inflexible. A good enough start for a few minutes' work.
"Let me worry about the other nations," Panam said, "All I want you to do is keep what I've said in mind when we get to Eureka. We're not doomed unless we do nothing."
"Sure, I'll do that," Valerie yawned, walking away, "Long drive tomorrow." She stuck up her finger over her shoulder, though her heart clearly wasn't in it.
Panam watched her go to her car, pleased with her efforts, but returned to Carol with something else on her mind. It had been easy. Scarily easy.
"That went well," she said quietly, opening Warhorse's door.
"Nothing back on this Nemo guy yet" Carol said, as if it hadn't only been a few minutes, "What happened?"
"The chip on her shoulder isn't a chip," Panam replied, "It's a canyon."
"So Alt was right?"
"Alt was right."
