On a Plain

The Bonneville Salt Flats flew by as the convoy hit I-80 at full speed, the cars, trucks and the rig burning rubber to get across to Nevada as soon as possible. There had been some trouble in Utah, an unidentified car trailing the group at a distance.

A nomad's Galena, not geared up like Shiv, not like the Wraiths anyway. Whenever the group stopped for the night, there was always a set of headlight in the distance behind them a ways back down the road.

So Panam had insisted on making a break for it on the flats, where the rig could make its best speed. Coupled with a long drive that ought to run their pursuers' CHOOH tanks dry, it ought to be enough. The rig carried jerry cans along its side, so everyone was able to fill up at the start of the drive completely without having to pull into the stations.

They kept up their normal routine until the domes and megabuildings of Salt Lake City were all around them. Their follower was drawn into the city after them, but with the city came traffic and cops. Both were things they were able to ignore thanks to their numbers, but their friend could not.

As soon as the rear vehicle was sure the Galena was nowhere to be seen behind them, caught up in some jam, they made a break due west onto the nearest on-ramp.

They drove as fast as they could, passing any other vehicles or wrecks in formation, pedal all the way down for an hour and a half.

By the time they entered Nevada at the ruins of Wendover, they were pretty sure they had lost their tail, but the journey had entered its most dangerous phase sooner than expect. Nevada was bandit country, particularly in the interior, and I-80 marked the boundary between the friendly enough ones and the Raffen.

They kept driving until the town of Wells, which had managed to survive as a rest-stop town thanks to both the railroad and the interstate running through it. Corporate interests required such a place, so it lived. Petrochem ran the place, naturally, and giant billboards in neon proclaimed its ownership.

There, the friendly sort of bandits were waiting just beyond the town line, in the form of a family of the Jodes nation.


"Hey, I'm Zacharias," said the man, "You must be Panam."

He was young, with glassy eyes and black mutton-chops, a navy-and-grey flannel shirt worn open with the arms torn off, no t-shirt underneath and jeans that had seen better days... Yet this was apparently the leader of the Jodes in Nevada, the western-most clan of that nation.

He offered his hand. Panam took it, shaking it firmly and not playing along when he squeezed. Her face warmed up, and her instinct to take the butt of Johnny Silverhand's pistol to his head scratched away behind her eyes. But, he released her in time and laughed all-goofy-like, like it had all been a joke.

"Sorry, bad habit," Zacharias said, scratching away at a mutton-chop, "Welcome to our camp."

It was an impressive sight, dozens of vehicles parked in rows together, plenty of people hanging around and campfires going as the sun began to set behind the mountains around them. They weren't as big as the Aldecaldos of Cali & Arizona, which was at odds with their apparent good fortunes.

"It's not what I expected, I'm actually impressed," Panam replied, "Didn't see anyone the last time we were here except Shivs, is there good money to be made?"

The subtext being that most nomads that remained independent were not living this well.

"We're subcontracted by the Meta three months ago," Zacharias shrugged, "The railroad here opened again and they need someone to keep the Raffen off of it."

Ah, so they weren't quite independent.

"Petrochem doesn't bother?" she asked, "They've got their own mercs."

"We're cheaper," Zacharias replied with a grin, "Petrochem also have general insurance. DTR don't have that luxury. Their airship and heavy AV cargo transports are expensive compared to trains and big-rigs, at least overland, so they've been repairing the intercontinental lines and the interstates piece by piece up here."

Decker, Tanaka & Rogers, while a big corp, were middling compared with the true players.

"And the Meta own a chunk of change in DTR," Panam concluded, "So they decided to hire some of their nomad cousins to protect their investment."

"Bingo," Zacharias said, "Hasn't been easy, but the money has bought us good rollers, and brought in experienced folks from further north. We've even got some Canucks from the plains provinces rolling with us now."

"So you can get us through to Cali no problem?" Panam asked.

"Not without a problem," Zacharias said, shaking his head, "It's a constant battle to keep the Raffen off the railroad, though the terrain does help in places. But if they see you coming along alone, they'll follow you all the way into California if they can't grab you here, Militech be damned. You got a lot of fancy looking stuff they'll want."

"Lucky for us," Panam sighed, "Thing about the stuff is that it also stacks Raffen bodies up quicker. But I don't suppose they'll know that just by looking, and if there are too many of them..."

The Jode gestured down towards the train tracks, which were visible in the distance.

"It gets worse," Zacharias said, "About two days ago, as we were pulling in here from the west, a pretty big convoy came through on a train from the east. At least twenty trucks on flatbed carriages, tied down. Had some impressive firepower. That will have drawn in more Shiv."

Panam felt like her stomach had just dropped out. Not again.

"Corpo?" she asked, "Don't suppose you saw any Arasaka logos on them?" Though it didn't make sense for that to be the case, who knew what Yorinobu could accomplish if he put his mind to it.

"The crew didn't read as corpo to me," Zacharias said, "They were hanging out on the flatbeds, not in some passenger compartment, though those basically don't exist anyway. Not a lot of suits and ties going on. No Arasaka logos either."

"But you've got no idea who they were?" Panam said, "Didn't catch any decals or anything?"

"Nope, the vehicles were all painted up grey and black, like urban camo, no decals," Zacharias replied, "Their configuration was nomad to the core though. Crys-domes, armoured bumpers, spare tires, water condensers even. If I didn't know better, I'd say they were another nation, but I've never seen anything like them."

Panam frowned, looking over to her own convoy as the crews began getting out to stretch their legs. Things just kept getting stranger. A tail, now a mysterious convoy of nomads in unmarked trucks. A creeping sensation went up her, as the idea that her convoy was being driven, 'hounds to the hunters' like the old days.

"Don't suppose you're sending a convoy west again?" she asked Zacharias, "Would give me peace of mind if we could join up."

"Yeah, we were going to head that way tomorrow," he replied, "But won't we be a little slow for you? You've already got a Jodes rep too, though poor Joseph runs a much smaller operation than I do."

Joseph being the leader of the Arizona Jodes.

"We got here ahead of schedule," Panam said, "This is your territory, so I'll be honest; if your job is to fight the Raffen, then you'd do pretty good joining up with us until the border. We're Raffen magnets."

Zacharias' tongue moved about in his mouth, until he finally turned and spat to the side, ejecting a pouch of tobacco that had been under his gum the entire time. Panam's head recoiled a little at the sight, trying to avoid getting any spit on herself.

"Don't know why you're up here," Zacharias said, "But your questions tell me that you're in trouble. We've got no problem doing our jobs, but you're going to have to explain why I ought to go out of my way to escort you."

Panam looked away, off towards the bustling Jodes camp. They were prospering, and they had settled into a way of life around their duty. The likelihood of them being tempted to sign up with her cause seemed tiny, the risk was too great to the little niche they had carved out. No way she was going to tell him what she was really doing up here.

"You should escort us because we might draw out more Shiv than usual," Panam replied, looking the man dead in the eye, "You should do it because together we can put the hurt on the sons of bitches, bad enough that'll make your life permanently easier. You should do it because not everyone is as lucky as you are, and it's bad luck to just let people die alone out here. You should do it because we're all nomads."

She closed her mouth, realising that the volume of her voice had risen with every word. The target of her ire did not seem insulted, though. Zacharias considered her words instead, picking at his teeth with the nail of his thumb, as if there was tobacco stuck in it. He mumbled to himself, cursing.

"Suppose those are as good arguments as I'm gonna get from you," he admitted at last, "Since you're not going to tell me what you're up to. The Shiv see us with you, they'll assume we're going in for the kill. Reinforcements, like. You're right about drawing them out. Maybe it's time we pulled something big before they get the idea to do the same."

"Maybe it is," Panam agreed, "We'll be ready to go in the morning. Hope your people will be too."


The convoy continued on its way at first light, triple the size it had been coming up through Utah. The Arizona/Cali vehicles took up the middle, with the Nevada Jodes taking up the front and rear of the column. Zacharias had insisted on it, because the Aldecaldos neither knew the way nor knew where the Shiv ambush points were.

The problem was that for the next five hours of driving, straight across Nevada, Panam's palms and trigger finger itched something bad. And not because of the Shivs, at first.

Zacharias himself had insisted on leading the Jodes contingent, and their Arizona leader deferred to him in all things by virtue of the fact the man had a larger clan with more experience in fighting. There was no reason for either man to do so.

Panam would never have surrendered control of her own clan, even to the leader of a greater clan of the Aldecaldos... if there was a clan bigger than hers now. The nearest others were just outside San Diego, northern Mexico and out towards the Great Plains. She mistrusted anyone who'd demand that a clan leader do so, and was less than impressed with any leader that would go along with it.

That reason for her discomfort with Zacharias just grew and grew as each hour passed without a Raffen Shiv attack. The lead Jodes vehicle, another Mackinaw with a dual machinegun mount and opticals ripped off a downed 2021 drone, called out each expected ambush point well ahead of time.

Nothing came out of the hills or forest or sand to attack at any of them, the passing of each dangerous area marked only by burned out wrecks shoved off the road long before.

From Wells, Nevada, they made it all the way to the famous Reno City without shooting or being shot at. Not so much as a burst tire to show for it in terms of damage to the vehicles.

By the time the billboards for casinos and brothels began cropping up, some new, some sunbleached to oblivion, Panam had stopped being suspicious and had come up with a plan. She waited until they were past the city to execute it, not lacking neon or decay in equal measure, so it wasn't between them and their objective.

She ordered the Arizona section of the convoy to pull into the first rest stop out of Reno, in a channel in the clear. The Nevada Jodes followed the order themselves, the lead truck swerving off the main highway onto the off-ramp just in time. They parked up in the long spots originally made for big-rigs, and everyone headed for the gas station, to buy food and drink, to use the facilities, whatever.

Panam hadn't panicked when the Nevada vehicles had stayed with them, but now she was sure the Jodes were up to something.

She found Carol in the bustle of the station, and took her aside.

"We're heading out on our own to the border," Panam said under her breath, as the Blood Nation guys strolled by a little closer than she would've liked, "Five hours and no Raffen? I think Zacharias is playing a game with us."

"It is suspicious," Carol admitted, "But maybe our luck has just been good this time?"

Panam shot her a look, brow raised in surprise.

Carol grinned at that, nodding. "Okay, our luck isn't that good," she said, "Not with the Shivs and without V around."

"Wish he was here," Panam agreed, "With the panzer. We're outnumbered if the worst comes to pass."

"Don't think it's as serious as that," Carol said, "Think it's more that they want to use us as bait, but the Raffen aren't stupid enough to bite."

Which was far from typical. Panam began to feel like she did before the Wraiths had attacked, the night before they all learned there was a cure for V. The worst of the nomads showing strategic thinking? There was puppetry or genius going on, neither good for her or her family.

"I'll go tell Zacharias that the party is over," Panam sighed, "Tell our people to be ready to move out again quick. We'll spend the rest of the day getting across the border in small groups." No need to run the border when most could cross without issue.

"Don't forget to thank him!" Carol said, marching away.

The leader of the Jodes was not hard to find. He sauntered out of the station with a doughnut in one hand, powdered sugar at the corners of his mouth, and a travel mug steaming with fresh coffee in the other. The guy was headed for a heart attack, as far as Panam could tell.

"Hey Zacharias!" she called, waving him over, "Got a sec?"

"Sure thing," he replied, changing the direction of his saunter, "Not going to get anything?" He waggled the doughnut, a little too close to her face.

Panam dodged the confection with a side step, earning a shrug and letting the man bite into the thing again.

"We're only ten minutes from the border here," she said, "We're going to head on over in small groups, play it legal. Just wanted to say thanks for your help."

Zacharias chewed for a bit, at least having the decency not to spray her with crumbs. Barely. He was a loud chewer. "No need to thank us yet," he said, "You're not across the border. Raffen haven't taken their shot yet. You can bet they'll try."

"Along the last ten miles before a Militech-patrolled border?" Panam asked, "Isn't that inviting death by drone?"

"As long as they don't look like crossing the border, Militech won't care much," Zacharias said, "Maybe if it was us, they'd honour their North Cali escort contract from the Meta, counting us as under their wing, but certainly not for you guys."

"Look, I don't want to drive up to the checkpoint in a giant convoy," Panam pressed on, "If we do, even if you are a part of it, they'll stop us crossing on general principle."

"They might do that anyway," Zacharias said, "The local Raffen sell their loot across the border in North Cali. Reno is ours, sorta, and everything along I-80, Vegas belongs to the gangs who want that sort of riff-raff nowhere near the neon. Point is they'll have contacts they can call. Might not be able to stop you, but will be able to delay you long enough to attack."

"You might want to listen to the man," said a third voice from the side.

Panam turned, and saw Nemo standing there, shirt cuffs buttoned and business jacket on. His warm, fake smile was plastered on. On top of that, it was the middle of the day, it was 70 degrees. Between the temperature and the effortless handling of it, she felt too hot just looking at him in that getup. Behind was Valerie, eating a blue popiscle by chomping off a piece.

"Zacharias is a local expert, after all," Nemo continued, "If anyone knows Shiv behaviour, he would. If we're to make it in one piece to Eureka, we cannot divide ourselves at any time. To do so in front of a Militech controlled border zone would be idiotic."

Panam was about to turn the full barrage of her anger on the man, knowing that he was a saboteur to her plans already, but Zacharias of all people spoke first...

"Now listen here, Mr...?" the Jode began, before waggling his doughnut in inquiry.

"Nemo," the Snake Nation leader replied.

"Mr. Nemo..." Zacharias continued, "Nothing Panam has said is unreasonable like, and I don't appreciate you cutting in on our private conversation like this."

"I didn't mean to offend," Nemo said, smile disappearing in favour of false remorse, "I apologise."

The Jode ate more doughnut, and unlike with Panam, kept on talking.

"I think you rode in here not caring if you offended," Zacharias said, with a slight rain of crumbs all over Nemo's business jacket, "I think you underestimate this woman. But let me tell you something; I sure as shit don't, Mr. Fancy Pants. Know why?"

Nemo's smile broke forth once more. "No, but I'm sure you'll tell me," he said.

"Simple really, I ain't ever heard of you," Zacharias railed on, "You aren't the one that planned and led an operation that kicked Arasaka in the nuts. You didn't put together this convoy, for whatever damn reason it needed to be put together."

He moved alongside Panam and pointed at holster.

"And you sure as shit ain't walking around with Johnny Silverhand's iron on your hip neither," he said, wrapping his knuckles off the weapon's side, which otherwise would've earned him a serious injury courtesy of Panam.

She was too busy listening in astonishment to care. Old Zacharias must have been a Samurai fan to recognise the Malorian pistol on sight... or perhaps he was a fan of Silverhand's political message.

"I assure you, I'm a ranking member of the Snake Nation," Nemo replied calmly, tapping a finger against the Snake motif on his chest, "Certainly not someone you want to insult."

"You've insulted me, so why not?" Zacharias rebuked, "Especially talking about being kin to a nomad nation as 'membership' like it was a corpo country club. This is a way of life, or have the Snakes forgotten that?"

The Jodes were the most committed to the mobile lifestyle of all the nations, at least on land, so Nemo really had stepped on a landmine... and for whatever reason, Panam was enjoying every moment of it.

Valerie cleared her throat, stepping forward to her superior's rescue.

"We haven't forgotten," she said, pointing her half-eaten popiscle at the Jode, "Different nations do things differently is all. No need for anger over it." The flavoured ice returned to her mouth, ending the matter in her mind.

Panam knew she was talking shit, that she didn't believe a word of it, but against someone from another nation, Val's instinct was to defend her own. She was sticking to the nomad code even if the Snakes didn't care for it any longer.

Panam's phone buzzed as a call came in, ending the conversation prematurely. It was Carol, on the urgent line. Accepting the call and putting it on speaker, she held her breath.

"The checkpoint to Cali's closed!" Carol declared, her voice attenuated slightly, "Militech closed the border! Subnet says it's due to 'presence of dangerous nomads'."

Panam clicked her tongue, wondering if they meant the convoy or the Shivs.

"Oh fuck!" Zacharias shouted, "Raffen! They must be comin'!"

The man ran off, barking orders at whatever Jodes he could see, gesticulating wildly as he went. Leaving Panam with the Snakes.

"He is the local expert," Nemo said to her, "Perhaps we should prepare for a fight."

By which he meant, the Aldecaldos and their friends could fight, while his three vehicles could run.

"Probably should," Panam replied, casually palming the Malorian pistol, "Not sure Militech were talking about the Raffen though."

"Speak of the Devil, and he shall appear," Carol said, still on the line, "We've got columns coming both ways up the interstate, Shiv trucks. Boneheads clan."

Anticipating the response, Panam glanced to watch the damage that piece of news would have. The terrain around was too rough to go cross country, especially for the fast runners that the Snakes had brought. They were trapped.

Nemo's face darkened and his hand reached for his own pistol at the small of his back. Just in time, as a truck came screaming into view, bristling with guns and coming straight for them.

They all opened fire on it as they ran, fast as they could.


The Boneheads came sweeping into the rest stop from all the ramps and straight up the embankment of the interstate, moving to surround it. The weapons mounted on the back of their pickups and trucks chattered, spraying bullets widely and randomly, aimed and operated by human hands rather than being stabilised and tied to a remote aiming system.

The Raffen of Nevada were not high tech.

The barrage didn't kill many, but it sure as shit kept everyone's head down. Panam watched from behind the counter of the gas station as the mob of vehicles began encircling it and the parked convoy separately. The convoy's mounted weapons were retaliating, but since a lot of people were in the station, not enough of them were.

The Boneheads weren't pressing their advantage in the parking lot. Afraid that there were more people in the trucks and not wanting to get too close to the big-rig's very serious armaments.

Panam noticed another thing as a trio of pickups buzzed by, before they spider-webbed the bulletproof glass of the front of the station with shots.

The Bonehead cars and trucks were marked with iconography of dessicated heads and people, like ancient Egyptian mummies with guns and no wrappings. The hoods of the vehicles were decorated with skulls held in place by metal mesh, some having only a few, others having over a dozen.

"We're stuck," Nemo said appearing from somewhere else, not even a ghost of a smile on his face now, "And they appear to be trophy takers. Wonderful."

Panam had almost forgotten he was there, as so many had crowded into the station proper to avoid being shot down. Not everyone had been so lucky. Two Jodes and a Blood Nation guy lay dead right outside the doors. Yet Nemo survived.

"Shut up," she snapped at him, "I'm thinking." She began looking around, checking who she had with her in the station, what they were armed with, how many exits there were.

"I'm sorry, I feel expressing some concern about the barbarians at the gate was worth a few seconds of your time!" Nemo growled back, "Or hadn't you noticed?"

If she hadn't, the Boneheads gave her a reminder by spraying down the front of the building again, this time with something in a heavier calibre. Tracers came flying through the glass, sending everyone to their stomachs, as the contents of the shelves were randomly destroyed from one aisle to the next. Just as quickly as it had appeared, the truck having moved on.

Panam felt something like a plan developing, as she realised what the Boneheads were doing.

"Jodes, cover from the back!" she shouted, "Aldecaldos and anyone from Arizona, keep low, hide in the side aisles! They'll be coming in!" They wanted someone inside, Panam knew, otherwise they'd have parked right outside and opened fire with as much as they could bring to bear.

There were shouts of acknowledgement, and people began moving, crawling along the floor to get to where they needed to go. The Jodes quickly sprinted away, just as the technicals returned and sprayed down the front again, with even more weapons. The protection provided by the glass was beginning to get very ropey.

Panam propped herself up at a corner of the counter, which seemed to be bulletproof too, where she could see the front doors from an angle. Wishing with all her heart that V had been there with that big ass tech rifle of his, she aimed Silverhand's pistol where she expected to see trouble.

"Not sure that is going to do much," Nemo said, replacing the magazine of his Yukimara smartgun.

"What part of shut up do you have a fucking problem understanding?" Panam replied, quietly, "Is this your first time out of an office or something? Are you really a nomad?"

The man coaxed a loud sound out of his pistol, readying it to shoot again.

"I am a nomad," Nemo replied, "I'm just..."

He didn't get the chance to finish.

The crashing of glass and a crunch of metal snapping filled the air, as a truck with a bulldozer blade on the front of it came straight through the remains of the front doors. It drove straight through the store area, knocking down shelves in the central aisles and stopping only when it hit the fridges, sending whole pallets of beer cans spraying and hissing onto the floor.

The Jodes moved in to take care of it, which was why Panam had ordered them back there, to deal with anything that came rushing through.

Without a shout or an insult, twenty Boneheads came pouring into the building from the front, armed with Copperheads and body armour that had clearly been looted from dead Utah border guards. They wore strings of fingerbones down their front, which seemed to indicate rank.

Panam concentrated, heart pumping with excitement that she had read the enemy so completely. She placed the guy with the most amount of bone hanging off of him in her pistol's sights and squeezed the trigger.

The silver-plated titanium weapon barked loudly, spitting its huge bullet.

A crater erupted in the lead Bonehead's head, and brain matter exploded out the back of his skull. The rest of the body collapsed to its knees, then slumped backwards. The rifle he had been holding clattered to the ground.

Panam felt her palms throb and her arm ache, the recoil of Silverhand's pistol clearly better handled by someone with a cyber-arm. Shaking off the pain, she fired again at the nearest target, cutting him off at the knee and sending him in a tumble to the ground, spraying arterial blood all over the tiling.

The entire room erupted in gunfire, Aldecaldos going first, taking two more to hell before the targets scattered. The Boneheads had ducked and dived behind the cover they had already half-destroyed by their own technicals, shooting over the top of shelves without looking.

The liquor bottles on the shelves above Panam's head began shattering under fire, sending alcohol streaming down onto the floor... and all over Nemo. The stench of it burned the nose and mouth, and the Snakes' leader cursed, copying the Shivs and firing over the top of the counter blind. The smartgun, without any target lock, peppered the front area of the store uselessly.

"You missed!" Panam shouted, letting loose with a few more shots. The thunderclaps of each one drew the attention and fire of the Boneheads again.

Whatever Nemo said in reply, Panam could not hear. The plastic covering of the counter was being stripped away by the incoming fire. Every bullet that hit came with a clang as it hit the metal that had been behind, her ears couldn't hear anything else. She reloaded quickly, cursing as some vodka soaked into the jeans at her knee.

A quick glance showed her fellow Aldecaldos and their allies had gotten the idea, and were creeping forward quickly. One was going too quickly. One of the gas station staff, it looked like, getting overconfident. Trying to play the hero, stipidly. Panam gestured wildly for the guy to keep back. He saw it, but took it for encouragement and pressed onwards.

Three rifles tore into him as he came up to the edge of another shelf, the security mirror giving away his advance to the Raffen. Panam hung her head, gritting her teeth and wishing the noise would stop so she could think straight.

Then it did. The Boneheads redirected their shots into the aisles once again, the gas station clerk having showed them the threat again.

"Listen to me!" Nemo said, finally audible again, "We use this and rush them!"

He held up a flashbang, shaking it between two fingers. Useful. Not a bad plan either, with one particular .

Not trusting him to throw the thing straight, Panam grabbed it out of his hands, holding it firmly. An oily and metallic taste hit her tongue and she gripped the pin between her teeth and pulled the grenade away, careful to keep hold of the safety spoon.

"Hey!" she shouted to the Aldecaldos across the way. Heads turned. She showed the flashbang to them. They understood immediately, giving thumbs up and propping themselves up, ready to spring forwards.

Panam's heart thumped in her head, the next step being incredibly risky.

She holstered her weapon awkwardly, took a deep breath, and stood up. A few sets of goggled Raffen eyes turned to her, as she drew her arm back. Rifle muzzles began appearing, aiming her way. Expecting to get peppered with lead any moment, she threw the flashbang in among the enemy as hard as she could.

The non-lethal grenade sailed through the air, arcing over the main shelving that the Boneheads were crouched behind.

Ducking back down, dodging a few bullets that wrecked the wall behind her, Panam covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. The world flashed a brilliant white for a split second, accompanied by a muffled boom. That was the signal.

Panam sprung up again and vaulted the ragged counter, straight to a sprint. To her left, in her peripheral vision, she could see the other Aldecaldos doing the same, the rest following along. She grabbed her pistol and held it in front of her, slowing to a fast walk so she could aim properly. No sign of any Raffen technicals out front, even as she drew closer to the doorway.

She reached the Raffen position. The Boneheads were lined up along the shelves, picking themselves up, groggy, some of them bleeding from their ears. Anger and excitement making it feel like her blood was at a boil, Panam corrected her aim.

Boom, boom, boom. Three dead Raffen.

The others who still had their senses scrambled away from her down the aisle, as Panam sent more rounds chasing after them. Back of the knee, one in the hip, two more dropped to the ground, crippled.

She kept the last round in reserve, as the Boneheads withdrew to the corner of the shop, where a tobacco counter was. She followed them down half way, keeping up the pressure.

The other Aldecaldos hit them where the shelves ended, joining with the side aisle. A wave of tracers came flying across, taking targets where they could. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, Panam grinned with pleasure, triumphant at having caught the Raffen out so badly.

The Boneheads wiped the smile off her face by showing some real grit.

Instead of cowering or ducking, they stood and shot back, in both directions they were receiving fire from. There was no precision or coordination to it, it was just their instinct, to die hard. Panam's insides felt like they were dropping out, most Raffen Shiv were utter cowards.

Bullets ricocheting off the wall beside her, Panam's mind raced to find some means to get out of the way. She tried to shove the shelves to her right over with her shoulder, letting off the last bullet in her pistol as she did so.

She sent another Bonehead to the afterlife, putting the round straight through his thin vest into his heart, but the shelves wouldn't budge so much as an inch. There was no cover whatsoever.

No escape.

The weapons of the Raffen all turned towards her, even as some of those holding them fell. Terror fell on her, like the sun had suddenly eclipsed. She tried to reload, desperate not to be killed without bringing some company along for the ride.

Just behind her, a gun burped on full automatic. The bullets whizzed past her head, just slow enough to follow. They burst forward with a sudden rush of speed into the bodies of the Boneheads, homing in and killing the last of them.

Panam felt relief wash over her, and she slumped to her knees against the shelves, boxes of candy sliding to the floor around her. She turned her head to see who had saved her ass, and found Nemo standing two paces away, his weapon raised. Of course, she thought, he was the only one with a smartgun.

"Glad to be of assistance," he said, before she could thank him, "But let's get away from the windows." He offered a hand, which she took, getting up off the ground.

The deep roar of an engine filled the air as another Bonehead technical came around the corner of the building, into view through the kaleidoscope of the windows.

With a groan of frustration, Panam finished snapping another magazine into her pistol, and raised it, confident the powerful weapon could take out the gunner of the vehicle. It wasn't necessary.

Explosive rounds raked its back, the gunner and loader that had been hanging on turned to meaty chunks that tumbled onto the forecourt. Panam knew what was hitting it; the mechs that had been in the big-rig must've been activated and driven off the attack. It explained why the rest of the Bonehead vehicles hadn't stuck around to help the attack.

The Aldecaldos and Jodes had won.

So, it was with some sense of irony that Panam watched the burning technical run at full speed through the gas station forecourt, ramming into one of the CHOOH pumps. She grabbed Nemo and pulled him down with all of her strength and weight.

The explosion shattered the world around her.


Panam awoke to the sight of Zacharias, inserting another tobacco pouch, and Carol, staring down at her over her sunglasses with concern.

Surprised, she bolted upright, immediately regretting the movement as little spikes of pain shot through her upper body and face. Her hands went to where the pain was, and she could feel some bandages and plasters. Her head swam a little, before she asserted some control and focused, with little difficulty.

It was still daylight, though the sun was lower in the sky than she remembered.

"How long was I out?" she asked.

"Not long," Carol said, "Your arms and face got cut up when one of the station tanks blew the windows in, and your chest is bruised from the fall."

"You'll recover," Zacharias shrugged, "Wouldn't recommend you getting behind the wheel for a couple of days though. That's what Sandy said, and she knows these things."

He waved at blonde woman, presumably Sandy, who had a red cross armband on and was leaning over another unconscious body. One of the Jodes' medics.

Panam looked around.

The gas station was half-ruin, half-smoking crater. The forecourt roof had been blown clean away, leaving only its metal supports. The pumps had been too, scattered like thrown playing cards. People were picking through the remains of the store, grabbing whatever seemed intact. Valerie seemed to be directing things there, which boded well for the plan where the Snake Nation was concerned. Small comfort, but still.

The parking lot was a mess. Lots of wrecked vehicles and Raffen bodies, which the Jodes had taken to looting with great abandon. The two mechs and the dozen R-model robots that had been hidden within the Aldecaldo big-rig were also visible, walking a perimeter patrol. It was obvious that the trophies from the assault on Arasaka Tower must've saved the day, justifying the decision to bring them.

"How many did we lose?" Panam asked, scanning around for bodies. She found them behind her, a hundred yards away, being bagged up. There were at least two dozen.

"Twenty seven," Zacharias sighed, "You were right, we really burned the Raffen here, but there's gonna be a lot of families back with the main convoy in Wells who're going to be weeping tonight."

As sad as that was, Panam knew that every single person who had come along with them was a volunteer. The Jodes had also chosen a particularly dangerous way of making money.

"My condolences," she said, standing up.

"Six of our convoy, and two vehicles," Carol clarified, "One from Folk Nation, two from Blood Nation, two Arizona Jodes and one of ours. Two of the Snake Nation's road runners got trashed."

"One of ours?" Panam asked, "Who?" An Aldecaldo, killed in action.

"Theo," Carol frowned, "The kid mechanic. Came to get some real experience working the big-rig. Was caught in the open when the Boneheads came screaming in." Panam didn't really know the girl very well, but she had seemed enthusiastic. Had a future.

"Fucking Arasaka," Panam muttered, placing the blame on those that had forced the family to come on this journey. Whether by fucking with V's head or fucking with the Aldecaldos' ability to make money, it all boiled down to them.

"What've Arasaka got to do with it?" Zacharias asked, moving closer excitably, "You think these Raffen were workin' for 'em?"

The Nevada Jodes' leader might've been a lot more trustworthy now than before, but she still didn't trust him with the big secret.

"Not at all," Panam lied, "We'd still be safe and sound in Cali if it wasn't for them, is all."

Carol cleared her throat, and took off her sunglasses. "We have a problem," she said, glancing at Zacharias, "Joseph took a bullet, so the Arizona Jodes are leaderless now. Seems like there was a deal a while back that if anything went wrong in AZ, they'd join up with the Nevada crew. The surviving Jodes have already called back to Alpha Dome."

In other words, one of the nations Panam had brought representatives now had a new leader; Zacharias. The guy with a now-cushy contract for his clan, and no motivation whatsoever to help out with the plan for Arasaka.

"Fuck!" Panam shouted into the air, before turning to Zacharias, "Looks like you're going to get to hear about why we're out here after all."

"I'm listening," Zacharias said.

"Later, it's a long story," Panam said, "Have Militech opened the border again?"

Carol pulled out her pad, tapped on it for a minute, then shook her head. "Still says 'dangerous nomads present at the border' here," she said, "Guess they weren't talking about the Boneheads after all."

"So how are you guys going to get across?" Zacharias asked.

She had an idea for that too.

"Where's Nemo?" Panam countered.

Zacharias pointed to the ground. Nemo was sprawled out on his back, unconscious and bandaged even more than Panam was, his jacket rolled up under his his head. His white shirt was splattered with blood, not all of which was his, most likely.

Panam didn't believe he was really out for the count, though. Something about the way Nemo was laying suggested he had regained his senses and had made himself slightly more comfortable. She was tempted to give him a vicious kick to the side, to be sure... but that was unnecessary, and the man had saved her life. But his attitude stank to high heaven.

Without a word, she pulled Carol and Zacharias away from him, out of earshot.

"We need some time to lick our wounds," she said quietly, "We might need to make a run across the Militech defences, so we'll prep for that. But I'll give V a call. He has Militech contacts that can help."

Zacharias nodded, as if this was exactly what he expected of a famous merc. Panam blew an amused breath out of her mouth. This guy was way too young to be leading the Jodes.

"I thought he wasn't supposed to get in touch with Militech publicly?" Carol asked, "Can he arrange a private meeting with half the media in the city following him around already?"

Panam blinked. "Are they?" she asked.

Carol nodded, beginning to tap on her pad again. When she was finished, she showed the screen, which was displaying a pic.

It was V, Kerry Eurodyne, a girl that simply had to be the-Judy, and weirdly, Blue Moon of that pop-idol group. They were arranged on top of a supercar under a streetlight at night. On V's supercar to be precise. The Rayfield Caliburn he nicknamed the Cyclops. They were posing with a variety of weapons, the guys on the hood, the girls sitting on the roof. There was a headline over the pic; 'Back in NC's embrace: V Returns'.

Sometimes Panam wondered just who the hell she was involved with, though she knew he felt the same way.

"Damn, V works fast," she muttered, before speaking up, "But hitting that border rather than going through the checkpoint will cost us. He's a big boy, he'll figure it out."