Chapter 10: Retreat
"Hey! What are you doing there?!", Private McSantosh shouted, hanging halfway out of his turret.
Hox blinked in surprise and swiveled his own turret around to face the Crimson Raider. "Sulking because I didn't see any action, mostly."
"No, I mean your little handiwork."
"Oh that." Hox lifted the metal file and the lump of steel he had been working with in an almost apologetic gesture. "Just a little project of mine. I'm planning to file myself a little Stalker here. Already got a Skag, a Bullymong, a Rakk and a... well, it's supposed to be a Rakk-Hive, but it's mostly just hideous, first thing I ever did."
"Little Pandoran Zoo", McSantosh said, smiling. "Must take a hell of a long time to finish one."
"'Course, but it's very relaxing."
"So, you make them for your wife?"
"We ain't married", Hox stated with absolutely no hesitation.
McSantosh looked a bit taken aback. "Whoa, keep calm. It's just that..."
"I know. Perfectly reasonable to assume, too."
"So... you just didn't make it official, didn't you?"
Hox laughed and carefully got back to work. "Official. Are you kidding me? This is the borderest of border-planets. Official comes here to die." He shook his head, chuckling. This wasn't his only misgiving about marriage, though. The whole concept seemed inappropriate for the relationship he shared with Linda. They weren't just two people who loved, respected and trusted each other. The Outrunner had welded them together in an almost surreal way. In the strictest sense of the word, one couldn't go on without the other: the driver relied on the gunner to do the majority of the fighting and to do it well, the gunner relied on the driver to keep them moving and to dodge whatever the world threw at them. And they had perfected this reliance and trust to the point where they simply couldn't be just professionals anymore and sewed their hammocks together.
"Boys, saddle up, we're getting out of here!", Wheatgrinder shouted. "And be quick about it."
"One day I'll force her at gunpoint to drop this 'boys' at the start of every other order", Linda complained.
"Feminist. What's going on?", Hox inquired.
He could almost picture Linda shrugging down in the cockpit. "Don't know."
"Gunners, be alert! Enemies approaching from east and south! We're heading north! If there's anything light enough from the transports to carry, take it, but we're leaving the Vans behind."
"Holy Crawmerax, how many enemies are we talking about?", Hox shouted and slapped his hands on the turret's brim in frustration.
"I'll ask", Linda proposed and went offline for a split second. When she came back on, she had slipped into the laconic inflection he knew as her 'battle voice': "Thirty five, as far as we know."
"Well, fuck me thrice and then once more", Hox cursed and pointed his launcher due south.
"I'd like to, but now is really not the right moment", Linda replied dryly.
Masha stood in the cab of her technical, making sure that everyone had climbed back aboard his or her vehicle, before she tapped Waddell on the shoulder and he started the engine. Elegantly the Sergeant slipped back into her seat.
"Where are we going?", Waddell demanded, as the party took positions: the Monster as a blockade runner in front, the command-technical right behind him, the technicals of Bracundo and Van Heerlen on its flank and slightly in front of them, the technicals of Harker and Penrose bringing up the rear, and the Outrunners forming a loose circle around them with five on each flank.
Masha clipped her ECHO to the dashboard. "Gods Eye, Gods Eye, this is Ground Dust, do you copy, over?"
Static.
"Gods Eye, Gods Eye, this is Ground Dust, please report, over."
Nothing. Masha wasn't too worried about Loggins. The guy could easily hold his own against three Copters and the Hodunk cars weren't equipped for a moving target more than two kilometers high in the air. But still, Masha's party was running blindly into most probably unfriendly territory.
"Eyes right!", Private Nelbert radioed.
"Here we go!", Gaspard shouted excitedly.
"Eyes south!", Corporal Derleth announced. "Enemy technicals, firing boosters now."
Masha thought desperately about a place they could go. The Runners could safely speed away, but the Monster and the trucks weren't fast enough for that. The Hodunks had cut them off from Ellie's Garage and the next base was in the Blight. That would require them to drive for at least ten hours straight, even with regular usage of the booster. Plus, given the circumstances, Masha didn't like the thought of the narrow gorge leading through the mountains to the Ashes. However, to the north there was nothing but sand and rocks and the occasional Spiderant. The Hodunks had set up camp in Oasis too, so...
Hold a second.
"Surprise Four, Surprise Four, this is Ground Dust, do you copy, over."
A gut wrenching second passed. Behind her, the Outrunners opened up on the approaching enemies, providing suppressive fire.
"Ground Dust, we hear you. Why are you calling us now? Surprise Four over."
"We need your coordinates. Rally your men and prepare for battle, we're bringing a little party."
"Copy that, Ground Dust. You'll receive the data soon. What kind of party?"
Masha paused a second, until her ECHO indicated an incoming data pack. "Alright, we received your transmission and we'll head for your position straight away. Be alert, we're being followed by at least thirty-five vehicles."
"Exciting progress. I thought it was far beyond them. But they sprang a trap."
"How about you? Are you ready for a fight?"
"We'll be when you come. Guess the big raid's in hard luck. Now it's nullified."
"Yeah, probably. See you in half an hour at least. Over and out." Masha quickly sent the new course to all the drivers in the raiding party. Half an hour was still pretty long, especially while making a fighting retreat. The Sergeant stood to get a better image of what was going on, just in time to catch all hell breaking loose on the rearguard.
"Cover!", Mitch shouted as the explosive barrel came straight for him and he had a split second to realize that there was no adequate cover in the back of the technical, before the explosion sent him flying like a ragdoll. Star dotted sky, dark ground and something ablaze were rapidly changing positions in front of his eyes, he felt weightless and then reality hit him with the equivalent of a brick wall.
The engineer ploughed through the sand, spun over a couple of times and came to rest prone in the dirt. All sorts of pain hit him simultaneously, including what he suspected to be some broken ribs. His arms and legs burned, scratched open by unyielding sand, but he could move and staggered to his feet, disoriented and dazed.
He was greeted by blazing headlights, maniacal laughter and the roar of an engine, as a technical raced straight towards him.
Mitch reacted instinctively. Emergency deploy. With the press of a button his exo-skeleton materialized around him, quick and efficient and only amplifying the pain in his limbs. He performed a standing jump and activated the boosters, which catapulted him high in the air... high enough for the technical to pass below him safely.
He landed smoothly on his feet and took the second to close the roll cages over his chest. His ribs were planning murder and revolt because of this, but now he couldn't be removed from the exo-skeleton without a substantial amount of force at precisely the right angle
The next technical was already heading for him, not even firing the machine gun. They just wanted to run him over.
Mitch pushed some more buttons and an industrial laser appeared from the backpack, looking straight over his right shoulder. Another little push and a beam of pure heat and coherent light connected the engineer and the approaching car.
The problem about a constantly firing laser was the aim. Mitch had to stand perfectly still, but that was nigh impossible given the shrieking pain in his arms and legs. He didn't manage to home in on the driver, although he certainly blinded him and accidentally burned a hole in the gunners forehead, so instead he focused on the car itself. The laser was strong, even if moved about a bit, it could chew through the armor plating of the hood and once that was gone, he would direct a couple thousand kilojoules straight at the motor, hopefully, before the car was close enough to...
It became too hot. Literally. Mitch killed the laser and made another jump, somersaulting over the technical. He landed, ready to face the next one, but there was just empty desert. Quickly he spun around and send a number of electrical charges after the technical. One bandit riding in the cargo area of the car got struck and twitched epileptically, when the electricity overloaded his system.
And then they were gone, a cloud of dust and shots and explosions disappearing into the desert, far out of reach.
Mitch took a deep breath and sat down, which was an awkward thing to do in his suit. Checking the perimeter again, he quickly deconstructed the exo-skeleton and got a med-kit from his SDU. His arms and legs were scratched and bleeding and a lot of sand was stuck in the wounds. He used up an entire bottle of water to wash his wounds adequately, before treating himself with and Instant-Health. Injecting stem-cells to treat a dirty wound posed a problem: The wound would still close perfectly, but the stem-cells didn't care if there was sand or leaves or shrapnel in the way and grew the flesh around these impurities. And it was all but certain that this dirt would cause infection and festering, as it was lodged inside the very muscles. No thank you.
Once his arms and legs were fine and even his ribs made some agreeable terms of surrender, Mitch took stock. He had his suit, an SDU worth of rations and water (Ellie had advised the lot of them to carry at least fifty liters, wherever they went, while in the Dust) and he had absolutely no clue, where he was.
He tried to raise Sarge Wheatgrinder on his private ECHO, but she was out of reach and he didn't want to distract her with a call. Next, he tried Loggins and actually got a quick response: "Get out of my channel, ham!" Clearly, the rest of the party was still kicking and busy, but for him the fight was over.
Mitch redeployed his exo-skeleton and send a voice-message to Ellie's Garage: "Hi there, this is Mitchell Darsher, I've fallen off Sergeant Wheatgrinder's raiding party and I'm alone in the desert, at the time. Don't worry about me, I'm fine, I'm fine... Just, when the ruckus is over, I'd be happy if you could send someone to pick me up. There are some high mesas in the distance, I'll travel there, easy landmark, so... yeah, just, send someone, would be nice. Thanks in advance, over."
Using his boosters, Mitchell started to move in the direction of the mesas like a man on the moon: In long, purposeful jumps.
A lot of things were happening simultaneously, none of them good, except for the sudden decrease in radio usage. Sharing opinions and battle cries with everyone in the raiding party had taken a backseat to fighting off Hodunks.
Masha was busy keeping up with all that was going on, still standing upright in the cab of her technical. So far, the rearguard had been mauled the hardest. Harker's technical had been on fire, briefly, and the cargo area had been blasted out into the desert, together with two Slabs and the engineer. Penrose had reported five wounded in his technical, himself included. The enemy had failed to overtake them, thanks to the firepower of the Monster, but the Runners on the right flank had been fighting since the bandits caught up to them. Six broken ribs didn't keep Private Nelbert from shooting his machinegun, though his driver was urgently asking for a replacement gunner. One Runner up the line, driver Harry Swopolis was swerving around, because blood from a head wound was constantly messing with his eyesight. Another driver had reported in a cool, disbelieving voice that the tip of his pinkie had been shot off. Several Outrunners from the left flank had already drifted aft or right, in order to support their comrades.
Masha's mind was spinning like space debris. Her first order of business was to evacuate Harker's technical. It was already starting to fall back, millimeter by millimeter. It probably wouldn't take kindly to the next booster.
"Harker, can you hear me?!"
"Ah, loud and clear, Sergeant."
"What's your status."
Harker told her in a few, chosen, very adult words.
"Okay." She looked around, trying to figure something out. "Okay." Leading from the front was a great concept, but right now she had the feeling someone in a big control room with lots of monitors, a clear picture of this messy situation and an ordinary amount of adrenaline in his system would have been better qualified to make decisions on the battlefield.
"Two enemies hard-crashed", Derleth said. "One of them was driving as if he was blind."
"Confirmed!", Linda piped in. "Both flipped over."
Well, not all news is bad news. "Harker, can all of your men move?"
"You kidding? Except me and Hanna in the turret, they're all band..."
"Yes or no."
"Erm, yes."
"They can climb?"
"You guys can climb? Yes, seems to be the consent."
"Derleth, get closer to Harker's technical. His men shall climb over onto your vehicle; ferry them over to me or Van Heerlen. Try to get all at once. Zayit, Orpheus, move your Runners over there to provide cover fire. And Bracundo, send one of your boarders to relieve Private Nelbert. Leave him in the turret for now. It's gonna get crowded, but they'll just have to make do."
"Copy", Derleth replied. "Wonderful."
"I'll do my best", Bracundo confirmed.
"This is heaps fun. Heaps and heaps fun", Orpheus muttered, but his Runner was already moving into position.
Masha glanced down at her dashboard. The booster would be ready for re-use in a matter of minutes. But they needed to evacuate Harker's limping technical, before they could use it. Damn, damn, damn.
At this point, every other party member was wounded or unaccounted for.
Hox was providing cover fire while Derleth moved in to perform the most insane rescue mission the mercenary had ever seen, even after a long and colorful career on Pandora. And even more astonishing, Harker and his crew went along with it without batting an eye. At full speed they jumped from the cargo area of the technical over to the Outrunner, clinging to the vehicle like lice to a bullymong.
McSantosh was basically out of the fight. He fired his machinegun sporadically, but he was busy reaching out to grab the men changing vehicle, especially the wounded. So it was up to Hox to do the work of two gunners, painting a firm line of impacts in the sand, a line the Hodunks shouldn't dare to cross. In order to cover more ground in one shot, he had already switched to MIRV-grenades, but his finger was constantly hovering over the switch to change ammo. MIRVs were a meat grinder, but they couldn't pierce armor.
Zayit and Orpheus were coming around from the left flank, supporting the rear and for some illogical reason, Hox grew irritated by their appearance. Their turret gunners unleashed a hail of bullets and grenades, but of course they didn't have his accuracy. Their cover fire kept the Hodunks at bay, for sure, but it was sloppy and wasteful and Hox knew that he shouldn't bother, because he was a professional who literally lived in his car, and still, seeing the others' performance irked him.
He vented his anger at the Hodunks, gripping the handles of his launcher harder, working the turret rotation with the pedals. Each ear shattering explosion filled him with grim delight.
"Harker out for good!", Linda relayed a message from the radio.
Hox spared a glance to his left and immediately regretted it. Derleth sped away and his Runner was covered in bleeding, screaming and for the majority still shooting people who held on for dear life. Meanwhile Harker's technical rolled on for a few more moments, before the scuttle charges activated. The massive truck made a perfect barrel roll and flipped over on its side. One of the bandit cars evaded the burning wreck by a whisker.
The two Outrunners which had come aft to help during the evacuation, were speeding up in order to reclaim their positions closer to the front. Until Derleth returned, Hox was more or less on his own.
An enemy driver decided to give it a try and fired his booster. What he probably thought to be a cunning evasive maneuver seemed to Hox like a drunkard driving in the most exaggerated zigzag pattern of all time. The gunner switched ammunition without missing a shot, as the enemy came within reach and the Hodunk truck was greeted by an armor piercing acidic grenade to the bonnet. It exploded on impact, sending shrapnel and lots and lots of caustic chemicals straight into the motor. The secondary blast of a detonating engine was a thoroughly delightful sight for the mercenary.
Just then a second technical rushed in from the right, aiming to ram them. Hox swiveled the turret around and the truck veered away, just when a third enemy attacked from the left.
He was getting overrun!
"Incoming right! Evade!", Hox shouted into the intercom and ducked, as the truck bore straight down on them, shooting giant saw-blades as it went. Saw-blades! Grenades, bullets, missiles, fine! But coming under saw-blade-fire always made his spine tingle.
Linda kept her cool and dodged the enemy easily with a quick turn of the wheel. The truck sped past them, without slowing down, but the second the driver noticed his prey had eluded him, he turned sharply... and something strange happened.
The front of the Hodunk car dove into the sand as if it had liquefied. The rear was catapulted into the air and sent the boarders flying. Almost simultaneously the sand came alive around the crashed truck, as dozens of Spiderants dug themselves from the ground, in order to investigate who had broken into their nest.
"Booster!", Linda said.
The acceleration slammed Hox against the walls of his turret. A quick look around, the whole raiding party was dashing away, leaving the Hodunks temporarily behind.
Just then, he noticed something else: A saw-blade was stuck in the side of the barrel of his launcher, almost at a square angle. Oh...
He needed the weapon and he needed it in working condition. The saw-blade had to go. Lacking other spontaneous ideas, Hox grabbed a crow bar from his SDU and started whacking away at the saw-blade. After three mighty blows, the thing came actually free. A mere second later, the muzzle and the better part of the barrel followed suit.
Hox blinked in disbelief. He was a weapon expert out of necessity and he knew that sawing off the barrel was a bad idea in basically every case. Lower accuracy, lower reach and with today's high-tech weaponry it was particularly stupid. But given the circumstances, he had to work with what he got. The Hodunks were already catching up once more.
For safety reasons, Hox switched ammunition to blanks, said a prayer and fired. The impact was horribly off target; closer to the vehicle than usual and several meters to the left. He fired some more rounds, just to get a feeling for the new properties of his launcher. It didn't blow up and the spread was somewhat predictable. Gritting his teeth, Hox went back to live ammunition.
"What happened to you?!", McSantosh yelled over and only then did Hox notice that they were all back in formation, minus a technical. Derleth' Runner was covered in bloodstains, a lot of them handprints, where Harker's crew had held on.
"Caught a saw-blade to the main weapon", Hox said, switching his com on, so Linda could hear him as well.
"Operational?", Linda demanded.
"Yep."
Over in the next Runner, McSantosh started to laugh hysterically.
"Buck up!", Hox roared.
"Sure, buddy", the Raider replied, snickering. "It's just... your operating Pandora's very first sawed-off grenade-launcher."
Hox contemplated whether or not he should offer his broken weapon to the Private, but then the first Hodunks caught up and he was too busy aiming.