August and Sasha were not back in ten. When Fiona tried to call them she got no response. Cursing, she kicked at the floor then managed to compose herself. After a moment she turned back to him. "We'll have to go look for them. Come on."
"Isn't this bandit territory or something?" Rhys asked apprehensively.
"Yeah, that's why Vault Hunters are supposed to be killing bandits here. Is that a problem?"
"Not as such..." he said, looking out through the window at the dusty, red landscape. "I was just thinking it might be... a bit dangerous?"
Fiona smirked. "Are you scared?"
"Pffft, what? No, of course not, it's just... do you think I could at least have a gun or something?"
"Nope. You wouldn't even know what to do with it anyway."
"So I wander through bandit territory... defenseless," he said, folding his arms.
"I'd defend you... maybe. If it makes you feel better I think your zappy stick thing is here somewhere."
"My zappy stick thing?" he asked, raising one incredulous eyebrow. Fiona did not seem to find it as funny, she was already distracted, gazing out the window. Perhaps she was busy thinking about her sister, and what could possibly have delayed her. The moment he thought of that, he found it hard to smile. As preoccupied as he was with his own problems he didn't like to imagine her in danger. Priorities, Rhys. Find Sasha, get vault hunters, work out how to get rid of Jack. Nice, simple steps.
"Yeah, you know the one," Fiona said. "Look, take it or leave it, we don't have time to hang around."
"Alright, alright."
After a quick search he found his stun baton in one of the cupboards. Fiona was standing by the door, impatiently tapping her foot, and he didn't think it wise to keep her waiting any longer. As he stepped outside she leaned in to speak to Gortys.
"You need to stay here in case they come back. If they do, you call us... and if anyone you don't know tries to get in, you hide, okay?"
Gortys saluted. "Yes Ma'm! You can count on me."
"Be good." Fiona gave the little robot a reassuring pat, closed the caravan and turned to Rhys.
"We head that way," she said, indicating uphill to where a path wound its way up the clifflike rock formation. It looked like a tough climb. "That's the way they went, so it's our best bet."
"Lead the way."
The trek was as laborious as he had expected. While his long legs gave him an advantage, Rhys had never been athletic, and for the biggest part of his life that had never been a problem. On Pandora things were different. On Pandora it helped to be fit when just about everything was trying to kill you, apparently including the geography. Ha! Look at him, complaining about a little walk. He could be possessed by a psychopath again at any moment, and yet he was, considering just how much he hated uphill travel. It didn't help that his nerves were shot, and at every instance he half expected a bandit to leap out and gun them down. His heart was pounding, his skin was sweaty and his breath wheezed in and out like a dying man's. Still, they didn't stop to rest.
Fiona, when he glanced at her, wore a look of unstoppable determination. Rhys liked to imagine that show was in part for him. That secretly, she too was finding herself short of breath, and unseasonably hot under her jacket. She'd be too proud to let on of course.
"Keep climbing," Fiona scolded him when she caught him slowing down.
Rhys was too tired to argue at that point so he just waved his cybernetic arm in a sign of surrender and forced himself onward, reminding himself that surely, surely they had almost reached the top by now.
When they finally crested the top he took a moment to observe there were no bandits nearby and immediately sat down on the flat shelf of rock. The dry, arid air burned his lungs but he choked it in none the less, feeling the full strength of the sun scorching his back.
After a minute he saw Fiona make her way to the edge on the other side. She stared down, assessing the area before she called him over. Reluctantly Rhys pulled himself to his feet.
"What do you think?" she asked.
Far below them, nestled between towering rock lay some kind of sprawling camp. It was hard to define any details at such a distance, but he thought he saw figures lounging about between the ramshackle buildings and old barrels. Not vault hunters, they were far too numerous and disorganized for that. They looked so small from up here, like tiny, murderous ants... Rhys moved carefully back from the edge before his vertigo could set in.
"I think it looks like bandits."
"Well yeah, but do you see any sign of Sasha or August?"
"How? We're like... a million miles up. They're not waving a flag or anything."
She gave him a flat stare, the one she had perfected to say, in very clear terms, 'Rhys you're an idiot'. "Your cybernetics were fixed, remember? Might as well put them to use, Mister Roboto."
"Oh... right." Somewhat sheepishly he shuffled back to the edge, peering over once again.
Rhys felt a moment of trepidation. His last experience had been less than pleasant. He still remembered that blinding burst of pain back on Helios when he'd attempted to use his faulty cybernetics... that all consuming agony... He knew Jack had fixed them, but you couldn't always rationalize fear.
Trying to create a facsimile of calm he took a breath. No big deal, just... switch it on. Rhys steadied himself, and activated his ECHO eye.
No static this time, just the usual whir as the device booted up. He saw the camp below in a sudden clarity, each objected separated out and highlighted for his convenience. All it took was an idle thought and the scene leaped forward, it was almost as if he were there, hovering a few scant inches above the rooftops. He could see everything. The bandit picking his nose when he though no one was looking, the lewd graffiti on the walls, the rodentlike creatures cooking over the fire while someone stood watch, the crates of ammunition, an old discarded magazine... also lewd. He scanned a couple of the bandits out of curiosity but all his systems were able to tell him was that they smelt bad and liked to shoot things. He'd figure that was a given.
"Rhys..."
"I'm looking, I'm looking, just hold on."
He turned his attention back the search, scouring the camp for any sign of Sasha or August. As hard as he tried nothing caught his attention. He deactivated his ECHO eye and sat back.
"I can't see anything," he said to Fiona, "which is probably a good thing."
She pursed her lips. "Alright... maybe they went further... this path looks like it goes around, we'll sneak past and take a look."
She set off without waiting for him. With a sigh he got up. Part of him wondered if he should just stay where he was, but after a moment he was already following.
The track was rough but deserted. It opened out on the flat plains below, and to the right they could make out what looked like another entrance to the bandit camp. There were no guards out front but they still gave it a wide berth. He was pretty sure Sasha and August would have done the same if they came by this way, they had common sense... well, one of them did.
"Hey, does that look like something to you?" Fiona asked, pointing off into the distance. A dark spec sat in the middle of the desert, like a small stain on a perfect sheet.
Rhys squinted, then remembered to use his ECHO eye. It was still too far away to make out much even with the cybernetic but he could at least form a rough idea. "It looks like some kind of vehicle to me."
"Is there anyone with it?"
"I don't think so..." he said.
"Well let's go check it out."
Rhys stared at her in disbelief. "Why?"
"I don't know..." she said defensively, "it looks suspicious, there might be a clue or something."
"Sure, right, that makes sense."
She pointed a warning finger his way. "Unless you see anything better you can drop the attitude."
He rolled his eyes at her back as they began to trudge out toward the vehicle. Heat haze danced across the landscape, shimmering and distorting the plains into an umber ocean of dust and dirt. It would have been picturesque on a calendar maybe, but some of the magic was lost when they were slowly melting to death.
"Don't suppose you brought any water?" he asked, wiping the sweat from his face off on his sleeve.
"Is all you ever do complain?"
"No... I do other things too," he replied sulkily, lapsing into silence. It probably wasn't a good time to mention he was getting sunburned.
When they finally reached the vehicle he circled round and slumped in the shadow it cast while Fiona investigated. It wasn't much, some bandit technical, bumped up but in working order. While there was no sign of the owners there were some cheerful bloodsplatters on the seats.
"They could have been there before though," Fiona said as she rifled through the glovebox, "I mean, bandits."
"But why leave it out here? Do you think maybe Sasha and August could have..."
"There's no sign they were here. They just went ahead to scout, they were supposed to stay out of trouble... Maybe it was vault hunters?"
"We don't know that."
"But it could be," she persisted. She gave a sudden sound of appreciation and Rhys glanced over to see her tucking a few folded bills into her pocket.
"Any water in there?" he asked.
"There's... some kind of liquid. Don't know it I'd call it water, it kind of smells like feet."
"Neeeevermind," he muttered, turning his attention back to the barren landscape. He blinked. There was a speck on the horizon he didn't remember seeing before. It was getting closer. He stood up.
"Uh, hey, Fiona?" he called, agitation breaking into his voice.
"What? Is this about-"
"There's something coming toward us. Fast."
She hopped out of the vehicle, lifting a hand to shade her eyes as she stared in the direction he indicated.
"Is that another truck?"
"Yeah, bandit technical, and it's headed right for us."
"Oh," said Fiona. "Crap."
"What do we do?" he said, arms outstretched as if to display their dilemma. "We can't hide, we're literally in the middle of nowhere!"
She shrugged. "Maybe they're friendly?"
"Yeah, I'd rather not risk it," he said, tugging her round to the back of the vehicle. They crouched down, listening as the roar of the engine approached. "This is your fault you know."
"Shut up. I've got my gun, you've got your stun rod, if we get the jump on them we'll be okay... possibly."
Rhys groaned. The truck was almost upon them now, seconds away. An idea struck him.
The back of the vehicle was empty, but there were a few boxes of ammunition and an old tarp that looked big enough to hide under.
He scrabbled up, offering Fiona his hand. "Get in, quick."
"What are you doing?"
"Not getting us killed. Just trust me, okay?"
There was a flicker of hesitation across her face, but it was gone in an instant and she pulled herself up into the back of the truck, ignoring his hand. Rhys pulled the tarp over them both and they lay still, trying to hush their breathing.
The other vehicle pulled up. A door opened and someone's feet hit the ground.
"Isn't that Brandon's ride?" a voice asked.
"Well it was, but uh, I don't see Brandon..."
"So... you thinking what I'm thinking?"
"I'm thinking he's not going to mind if we drive it back."
"Because he's probably dead," the first voice added.
"Yeah... way to be subtle about it man. Just grab it, we were supposed to be back hours ago."
"Why do I have to do it?"
"Because I can't drive two cars you dumb shit. Do you wanna let the psychos drive?"
"Gees, you don't have to be so mean about it. I have feelings you know."
Muttering to himself the man stomped over to the truck, and Rhys felt it lurch as he climbed in. Then the door slammed and the motor sputtered into life.
The ride was bumpy, to say the least. While the terrain was flat they had nothing to cling onto, so even the smallest pothole, or slightest shift in momentum could send them skidding about in the back. Fiona kicked him, which he was only half convinced was an accident. Rhys hit his head twice. He was seriously considering investing in a helmet by the time they slowed. Cautiously, ever so cautiously, he eased up the edge of the tarp. They were headed right into the bandit camp. He let the material drop, trying to keep as still and silent as possible.
They drove through, and then sound of the vehicles grew strangely echoey as they pulled into what Rhys guessed must be a garage of sorts. Doors slammed and he listened to the various voices and footsteps until they faded, followed by a rattling shutter. Then quiet. He still waited a tense minute before he dared to move.
Pulling the tarp back he found only darkness. Cautiously he lit his cybernetic palm. Fiona was glaring at him. Why did she always have to glare at him?
"Okay, so... this could have gone better," he admitted, "but the important part to remember is how we were not shot, which is exactly what would have happened if we'd tried your plan."
She continued to glare. "I hate you so much right now."