"It is not down in any map; true places never are."- Herman Melville
They had set out early that morning, transportation had been local fair, thus they found themselves riding in the crude but sturdy Headstone trucks. Dauntless had hired an outside company of mercenaries paying them a handsome fortune and otherwise threatening them with unholy retribution should they get out of line and try something he deemed unwise. Their hired 'protection' were professionals, or so Dauntless had said and the leader of the merc band promised.
They were rough looking men and women in well worn but sturdy and tough leather clothing, various other forms of padding was sewn into their outfits for better protection. Flak material to reinforce the knees and elbows as well as around the chest for a modicum of protection from small-arms fire. The outfits were there to protect them from enemy weapons as much as to save them should they take a fall from their vehicles. Most wore goggles and dust masks too for good measure.
Feeling the sudden jolt as the truck hit yet another bump Fenria bit back an exasperated groan keeping silent instead even as she was nearly thrown into Jericus' lap for the fifth time since they had first set out into Headstone's flatlands.
Jericus for his part seemed almost as tired of the rocky ride as her, but just as reluctant to voice any complaint, and it didn't help that the screaming metal death-traps they were riding in seemed to not have any restraining harnesses of any make or kind save straps that hung from the overhead roll-cage. Probably why their escorts had so much padding sewn into their clothes.
Schmidt and Gunther were more vocal about the whole inconvenience than they or Lieutenant Virtanen, the two shoddy looking men barking out curses each and every bump or jolt that they felt. Virtanen simply kept that well practiced haughty look of hers, though it did seem to be decidedly toward the angered end of its spectrum. The explosive lances favored by the locals jostled unnervingly with every bump against said roll-cage stacking even more tension on-top of the situation.
"I mean do they hav'ta cart around deadly explosive weapons so casually like tha'? Reminds me of that git we had in the legion, you know who I'm talking about Gunther tha' one tha' blew hisself an' half the platoon up all cause he was playin' with some krak-grenades," Schmidt was quite adamant about his point against riding in the trucks, apparently very uncomfortable with the long journey and the possibility of explosive dismemberment.
"Your pointing out the the dismally unsafe nature of our transportation does nothing to improve anyones mood legionaire. It would be a blessing if you'd stop with the useless complaints," Virtanen stated with her usual calm yet somehow superior tone of voice.
"Lass how can ya say tha' with one of the damn shaped-charges on'a stick pointing directly at yer head? Surely you of all people in this Emperor damned truck objects to the blatant attempts by its owners ta' kill us before we even get to the meat of our mission," Schmidt shot back in their usual banter.
Virtanen actually looked pointedly at the swinging lance near her head and seemed to consider her comrades point, though her pride pushed through in the end. "The Inquisitor has deemed this adequate and safe transportation and so I have no objection and niether should you."
"Tell me Lieutenant, wha' exactly do you eat in the morning ta make you such an admant and non-complaining Imperial servant, cause I'd really like ta get my hands on it," Gunther spoke up in his usual cheeky manner.
Virtanen grimaced at the bearded man. "I am not playing this game with you legionaire," she bit out with more than a hint of irritation in her voice.
"Now which one of us would you be talking to lass," Schmidt began. "I keep tellin' ya tha' 'legionaire' isn't exactly specific enough to designate between the two of us, keep tellin' ya our names, but you can'a seem to remember 'em." His grin fully said he was simply fishing for an angered response.
Fenria had noticed the strained relationship the Lieutenant seemed to have with nigh everyone to some extent in Dauntless' retinue save the Inquisitor himself. Although Schmidt and Gunther seemed to occupy their own special place on her list as she seemed apt to actually get into verbal sparing matches with them more often than not.
For their own part in it the two scruffy ex-legionaires seemed to take quite a bit of pleasure from the act of getting the Lieutenant 'hot and bothered' as they like to jokingly say. Gunther more so than Schmidt who for the most part seemed only to want normal conversations with Virtanen, but Virtanen's personality seemed to entirely prevent that.
"You two have been asking the same questions for years now, I am not playing into your games," Virtanen replied tersely as she focused her attentions sorting out her kit that she had packed for the mission, though the rocking nature of the truck had to have made the action incredibly difficult if not impossible.
"Games? who say's we're playin' games? Could be we're jus' worried about proper designation in the field. Who's ta say we'll know who yer callin' to for help," Virtanen gave Gunther a rough glare causing him to add in. "Should you ever need it tha' is, pont bein' if'n the situation calls for one of us to valiantly save the day that the confusion migh' get the better of us in the heat of combat and you migh' be in a spot of trouble then." He finished with that smile of his, Virtanen's countenance did not soften.
"That is what your callsigns are for," she spoke evenly reigning in other more radical retorts.
"Ah wha' was mine again if'n you don't mind rejuvenatin' my memory lass, darn thing slips my mind so often it's so under used," Schmidt proceeded to pour fuel onto the fire, Virtanen seemed to be silently seething and ready to finally explode much to the amusement of the two ex-legionaires.
"I would like to know as well, we haven't properly gone over the callsigns since we were first recruited," Fenria asked in an even and calm tone defusing the situation before it could escalate anymore than it already had. Virtanen looked her way with an expression of what could conservatively be called thanks for stopping her from falling into Schmidt and Gunther's plays. The two men had slightly disappointed looks on their own faces in contrast.
"Yes I believe you make a good point S-1050 If it will help with your acclimation to the retinue then I will be glad to inform you of any details you may want or need to know'" Virtanen nodded in her direction as she adressed her. "These two," she spat out as she motioned to the now grinning Schmidt and Gunther, "come up with them and are known as Dusty and Shady respectively." She gestured to Schmidt and then Gunther.
"Arbitrator Kaede is known as Hardcase, Interrogator Sothy has been christened Softy. Magos Kerelia is Tinker, Aryn is...Aryn because he wouldn't understand otherwise. And they like to call me... Ricochet for some aggravating reason, they haven't told me what your callsigns will be though I assume they'll be as innane and annoying as everyone else's. Unfortunately it's just something you will have to put up with on occasion."
"You well know why we call ya Ricochet lass, it's on account of tha' shot you made to kill tha' ork warboss, somethin' smasha or wha' ever his name was," Schmidt threw out even as Virtanen's features formed what was clearly an embarassed look. Jericus and Fenria turned their attention to the Lieutenant clearly interested in what could have put the woman in such a state, the name itself didn't really sound that bad.
Schmidt took Virtanen's silence as a que to continue. "You see my two skully comrades the Lieutenant here happened to make a one on a million shot, but the lass is so embarassed by it because it was purely by luck." Looking to see Schmidt had the two grenadiers rapt attention he continued his enthralling tale.
"She was using an old solid-slug sniper rifle because her primary had run outta charge. We were in one helluva pickle let me tell ya, but the lass calm as ever took the shot that'd save our bacon. It was an incredible sight let me tell ya, she took aim at the warboss, big hulking green bastard tha' he was, and pulled the trigger. Then the slug pinged off'a not one, not two, but three different orks clad in plate metal before finally going righ' between the big buggers eyes an' dropping him like a sack of potatoes."
Virtanen looked mortified as her companion continued on with the tale, her hat seemed to have been pulled down further on her head the front of it now obscuring her face better.
"We were all cheering, the greenskins started ta run without their big mother of'a boss around ta lead the charge. Tha' was when I noticed the lass, she had this stupified look on her face like somethin' was very wrong with the outcome. Then on my grave we all heard her mutter 'but I missed' clear as bleedin' day, and then when she noticed us all starin' at her she completely clammed up," Schmidt finished his tale. "Earned her codename tha' day, Gunther christened her Ricochet later tha' evening once we'd wrapped up the mission."
"As you can see she hasn' exactly taken ta it right well," Gunther supplemented indicating Virtanen's obvious attempts to avoid the gazes of the two grenadiers, her pride somehow hurt by the truthfully incredible tale.
"Keep tellin' ya lass it's not tha' bad a tale, good one ta tell really. An' the results were spectacular, ya saved all of us tha' day, hell Dauntless even gave you a congratulation and tha's high praise coming from him. He may be friendly but he hardly ever gives anyone a pat on the back like tha', you should be proud of the name." Schmidt patted the Lieutenant on the shoulder as he spoke with a genuine tone.
"And I keep telling you two that it was an error, one that I would not like to be reminded about, and yet you two gave me that callsign so that I could never live it down," Virtanen stated obstinately turning her attention to checking her weapon and thoroughly giving everyone the cold shoulder.
Schmidt frowned and gave a shrug to Jericus and Fenria turning back to adress them. "Well the lass is sore 'bout her codename, hopefully you two'll be fine with your own, Gunther assures me they're right good ones."
The two grenadiers turned over to the second bearded man and gave him the usual blank korps look, the man accustomed to years of danger was entirely unfazed. Instead giving them his usual grin suggesting only his general mischievious personality.
"They are right good ones if I do say so myself," Gunther agreed with his partner in crime. "What with you bein' another crack shot added to the motley band and giving us some of the best overwatch we've had in a while S-1050 I've decided we'll callin' ya Angel, as in Guardian Angel tha' is. As for you S-1049 my augmetic armed friend, I've given this a lot of thought, and from now on over the vox you shall be known as Axe-man."
The pay off was rather anticlimactic if Fenria was to be honest with herself, and by the look of Jericus he had roughly the same feeling on the issue, but all in all she supposed there were worse callsigns to be had. Although she wished they would've stuck with their designations, she idly wondered what they had come up with for the rest of the squad.
"I can'a tell if their happy with their callsigns or not, Schmidt what'ya think?" Gunther spoke up at their lack of response.
"Of course they're not satisfied with your ridiculous callsigns legionaire," Virtanen flared cutting Schmidt off as he opened his mouth to reply. "They are not dignified, or befitting professionals such as them, or myself."
Gunther stayed quiet for a moment. "Well Dauntless seemed right happy when I turned in the suggestions ta him, and I think they all fit rather well. Ah's the well, nothing tha' can be done now that it's all official like, the other three've been told their own by now too."
The two grenadiers continued to mull over the news in silence as Virtanen bickered with Gunther, and Schmidt tried to ameliorate the situation between the two to the best of his ability. Meawhile Fenria's focus shifted back to the rattle and bump of the truck as it passed over the rough terrain of Headstone's flatlands. Ahead in the small convoy they rode in were three more of the local trucks, they were the last in the convoy, Dauntless rode ahead of them with B-63, S-360, S-548, Kerelia, and Jessmuck. Ahead of them was Aryn who was being kept company by Interrogator Sothy, and Arbitrator Kaede. The final truck was filled with a vanguard of storm-troopers, but only three of them to make room for the three Brontians Kerchak, Walton, and Len.
The Brontians were a source of interest to both Jericus and Fenria, for such violent and savage looking men they were almost entirely opposite in their behaviour. Respectful, highly disciplined, and honorable to a fault it was a wonder how the three had come to associate with the feral and unorthodox Jessmuck in the first place. Though Fenria supposed it could have something to do with the usual alpha-male attitude toward bonding, boys comparing their battle scars and all of that.
Yet another almighty bump took her mind off of the subject of scarred men as the truck hit a particularly violent pot-hole lifting everyone in the cab from their tenuous seats.
"By the throne! Could these incompetants try not to aim for every Emperor damned dip in the flatlands on this cursed world!" Virtanen yelled out finally losing her shit... Fenria mused that the whole callsign conversation had diminished her usual self control. The small freak-out was followed by a rather awkward silence to the surprise of everyone it seemed, suffice it to say Fenria gathered that 'that' kind of...passion coming from Virtanen was not what even Schmidt and Gunther were used to.
Gunther whistled showing his surprise as one would after such an event further adding to the strange affect it had placed on the group. Virtanen fidgeted uncomfortably as she schooled her appearance and face back to its usual look and tried to ignore the attention being directed toward her. The two ex-legionaires failed to seize the opportunity for more jabs at her despite the prime situation, if they did so out of concern or fear Fenria couldn't say for sure.
They went back to not talking as the drive continued instead glancing outward at the passing scenery with interest as all ignored the event that had transpired mere moments ago. The bumpy ride seemed to have really grated on everyone's nerves and maybe, just maybe it was a good idea to internalize instead of converse.
Looking out at the passing landscape Fenria saw the barren flatlands they were speeding across, filled with rocks and other small obstacles it still mostly lived up to its name and provided relatively easy driving terrain...at least for the heavily modified local vehicles. Beyond the seemingly endless expanse one could occaisionally catch glimpses of dense greenery making up the jungles of Headstone, the very reason they needed Jessmuck to guide them once they reached a certain point.
"Uh, everyone might wanna turn their attention ta where I'm lookin' righ' now cause it looks like we're gonna be having a bit of trouble," Schmidt's slighty worried tone of voice interrupted Fenria's inner rumination and gained the attention he wanted. Dust rose as a column of vehicles in the distance spread out to form a wedge as they approached their own suddenly small and fragile feeling transportation. Fenria counted a little less than a dozen in total, ranging from modified trucks like their own to high-speed lightly armoured buggies that were speeding outwards even further to catch their convoy on its flanks.
Their hired mercenaries seemed to have taken notice before them and widened the distance between themselves spreading the convoy. The drivers were shouting back and forth over their comm sets and coordinating with the precision that a lifetime of driving vehicles into dangerous situations had instilled in them.
"We've got a raiding party coming at us boys, all hands to deck, prepare to repel boarders!" They heard their own driver shouting through the wind and roar of the engine.
Immediately the two mercs who sat in the truck cab with the driver climbed out of the side door and began scrambling their way across the outer cage and hand-holds welded to the truck's frame to allow them quick access to their primary weapons.
"You all stay down unless you're feeling fighty," one of the men shouted as he clambered past them to his position at the rear of the truck bed. His one hand hefted a flechette launching scattergun as he used the other to anchor himself to the truck frame, his comrade hooked himself to the top of the cage with a tether, grabbed one of the explosive-lances, and then climbed his way up to the top of the truck cabs roof balancing with practiced confidence, or reckless abandon, Fenria felt his manic grin could allow for either.
Similar scenes played out on the trucks ahead of them in their convoy as the mercenaries readied themselves for battle. Fenria noted that they all brandished flechette launchers of some make or another as well as their explosive-lances, they even had what seemed to be nets set up at their sides, but these were made of what looked like woven spikes. All of these weapons where geared toward vehicle to vehicle combat, the name of the game seemed to be to disable the enemy vehicles at all costs.
It was logical she realized as out here if your truck was destroyed or its tires wrecked then you would either die of exposure before you could get anywhere remotely civilized, or you'd be picked off by other bandits...like the ones currently bearing down on them.
The opening salvo was one of the fast little buggies as it began to sidle up to the lead truck in the column ready to attempt creating a hazard and take out a target. That was why the mercs had spread the trucks, so they had enough time to veer out of the way if the truck in-front of them was to be taken out. The buggy began to close the distance and Fenria could see why as the numerous shiny spinning blades on its hubcaps glinted dangerously like oversized blenders.
One of the mercs on the lead truck tethered himself to his truck's roll cage and fired off a shot at the buggy's wheel as it started to close it, he hung off the side of the truck from the roll cage directly facing down the oncoming enemy buggy. His shot of flechettes bounced off the hubcap as he missed his mark, unimpeded the buggy slammed into the lead truck rocking it to the side and throwing the hapless merc off the side. His tether caught him but to the poor man's horror the spinning blades of the enemy buggy caught onto his leg and pulled him in.
The man screamed as he was chewed up by the merciless metal, limbs and other pieces of him being thrown all about. Luckily though the high strength tether caught in the buggy's blades without getting sliced twisting round and round, the merc driving noticed this and promptly slammed his foot on the gas rocketing forward drawing the tether taut. Light weight buggy verses heavy truck meant the buggy was going to lose, and it did as the heavily reinforced rollcage held and the buggy was first dragged then sent tumbling as its driver couldn't keep his light vehicle level.
Pieces of it shedding off as it was now dragged behind the lead truck were quickly dodged by the other trucks in the column as they parted to fan out and avoid the debris. Finally Len stood from his seat and used one of his many knives, a great cleaver of orkish make, to cut the tether holding the vehicles together freeing the buggy to tumble off and become another wreck on the flatlands. Fenria watched as the mass of twisted metal seemed to flash by while they passed it at high speed. The driver was mangled beyond recognition.
Two more enemy buggies were coming on them by then and the mercs whose trucks they targeted were not taking chances anymore it seemed. The mad one standing atop their own truck winged his lance at the buggy closing in on them landing a solid hit on the speedy vehicle's mostly exposed engine. He whooped as the explosive charge in the lance head detonated and punched through the engine-block practically slagging it.
The buggy flipped head-over-teakettle from the sudden explosive force directed downward through its engine and then erupted into a fiery ball as its fuel-tank caught a spark. Their lance-man gave another cry of joy as he witnessed the explosion scrambling down and onto the cage the next second to grab another lance.
Ahead of them the two mercs acting to defend Dauntless' truck each threw a lance at a more armoured buggy set on ramming them. The lances hit one to the back blowing apart the rear axle as the second actually speared through the driver and detonated creating a bloody mess of the cab before it skidded to a halt as they sped past.
The two mercs high-fived one another before getting back to business each unloading their flechette scatterguns into the side of an oncoming enemy truck that had closed the distance. One aimed for the wheels while the other kept on the truck bed and cab to suppress the enemy combatants from retaliatory action.
They were aided by B-63, S-360, and S-548 who were each pouring lasfire into the armoured cab hoping to hit the driver. On the eigth shot the merc aiming for the wheels hit his mark blowing out the truck's front wheel and sending it veering off and away from them taking it out of the fight as its driver slowed down to maintain control and avoid being vaporized by the heavy lasfire.
Coming up on their left the truck carrying Aryn seemed to be having no trouble at all with its own attackers. One of the enemy trucks coming up behind it found out how effective the mercs spike nets were as the merc defender dropped the net out of the back of their vehicle directly into the truck's path. The enemy fighters fired their weapons uselessly as their truck ran over the spikes all of its tires blowing and sending it tumbling as the driver lost control.
Meanwhile Aryn was firing his massive rippergun one handed at the other truck, and while the gun was really more of an anti-personel weapon its oversized scattershot rounds were simply tearing through the truck like it was a tin-can. Bright red sprayed the inside cab as a few of the rounds finally found the truck driver and mulched him the truck slowing down moments later as pressure from his non-existant foot ceased.
Three of the enemy fighters who had been riding in the truck's bed and had miraculously not been shredded by ripperfire had decided to jump ship as it were before the truck slowed down too much and they were passed by. Two brandished billhooks and went for the mercs tethered to the rollcage, one caught fletchettes in his chest for his trouble and fell limply backward off the truck with a large hole in his chest, his body getting mangled as it was caught under the rolling tires.
The other billhook boarder went for the second merc swiping with his weapon and scoring a hit to the merc's shoulder, but to his surprise the merc merely grit his teeth at the pain and grabbed hold of the billhook to keep it and the boarder's arm in place. The boarder struggled for a moment before he screamed as the merc pushed forward launching both himself and his victim off of the truck. Tethered to the rollcage the merc was the only thing holding the boarder as he was being dragged along below him on the side of the truck legs getting mangled as they met rough uneven ground.
Billhook man screamed as he held onto the merc above him for dear life, the merc rewarded him with a series of brutal punches to the face finally making him let go as his legs got caught by the rear tires sending him to get run over as his comrade before him. Free of the extra weight the merc, billhook still embeded in his shoulder, scrambled back up the side of the truck into the bed, Interrogator Sothy giving him a hand up.
Meanwhile the last boarder brandishing a scattergun had made the mistake of aiming it at Aryn who first grabbed the hapless man's gun bending it in two and then grabbed him around the head one-handed. He screamed as the large ogryn hand crushed his head like a grape, Once dead Aryn simply threw the limp body and bent weapon away to bounce on the rough passing terrain.
Counting the remaining enemy vehicles was difficult given the way everyone was maneuvering, but Fenria now counted six still in the fight. Two were the speedy buggies now keeping their distance, two more were trucks carrying fighters tethered to their rollcages, and the last was some kind of armoured high performance vehicle with a really supped-up engine allowing it to easily speed ahead of everything else. Judging by the way it stayed out of combat it was no doubt being driven by the leader of the raid.
The two remaining trucks avoided Aryn's transport having seen what the ogryn's ripper could do and decided to box in Dauntless' truck remaining to either side of it as they stayed their distance and their fighters unloaded their scatterguns at the merc defenders. It was quite a situation for her new boss to be in and she felt obligated to take some of the pressure off, even more so once one of the merc defenders got his head pasted by a flechette blast leaving his limp body to dangle off the truck's side from its tether line as it fell.
The remaining merc jumped down to take shelter in the armoured truck bed as best she could with everyone else to avoid her friend's fate as the enemy fire only intensified.
"Lieutenant help me take some pressure off Dauntless fire when I say," Fenria yelled out to Virtanen who looked over to her briefly and nodded immediately before readying her lasgun. The two were the best shots in the retinue so they'd have the best chance to hit the enemy drivers without hitting their own in the process. Readying her longlas Fenria decided to give warning over the private channel set up for team communication.
"Everyone riding in truck three keep down, Lieutenant Virtanen and I are going to take out the enemy drivers," she bit out tersely as she took aim. "Now!" She yelled out as she took her shot.
It had been aimed at the enemy drivers head, the open window port gave her and Virtanen a good clear line of fire. Their lasbolts traveling at the speed of light obliterated the drivers head as the deadly light energy vaporized the blood in his cranium. The lack of control sent the truck crashing into the side of Dauntless' which sent his to hit the truck on the other side of it knocking the enemy fighters off. Two were saved by their tethers, one had failed to attach himself and went flying off his vehicle screaming as he went to crash harshly into the rocky ground and most likely die. The last would have been saved by his tether had he not been crushed between two trucks at high speed.
Losing momentum the now driverless truck slowed scraping the side of Dauntless' own as it went. Freed the merc driver moved away giving him space enough for his last defender to get up from her position in the truck bed grab a lance and wing it at the last enemy truck. The lance blasted a hole through the mid-section of the enemy truck hitting the fuel tank in the process and blowing it up in another spectacular fireball of an explosion.
The remaining buggies along with the custom vehicle racing ahead of the group veered off knowing the fight was lost and cutting their losses instead of fighting to the last. There was a cheer from the mercs still clinging to the rollcages as well as the drivers and they slowly got back into convoy formation. With the battle won they were undoubtedly in high spirits as they all went back to their positions, those merc defenders still living working their way back into their truck cabs.
Fenria settled back down with a sigh, and everyone else for that matter lapsed back into a relaxed state she had only seen after a life or death battle. She caught Virtanen giving her an approving look as the ride became relatively quiet once again.
"Alright people headcount, I want to know who's still breathing," Dauntless' voice came over the vox-net they had set up. Immediately the sound off began.
"Softy, good."
"Dusty, lost some control of me bladder, but good."
"Shadey, that was a helluva show, good."
"Ricochet, good."
"Tinker, good!" Kerelia's chipper tone came through.
"Hardcase, ready and able."
"Uh, good sah...this is Aryn..."
"Watchmaster, good," B-63's callsign seemed...unimaginative, though Fenria supposed it fit.
"Guardian Angel, good," Fenria said catching on to the theme.
"Axe-man, good," Jericus followed.
"Stitches, good," S-360's voice came through.
"Chatter-box, good," S-548's naturally followed
"Jessmuck, good," Jessmuck seemed to have missed out on getting a callsign, not a permanent member of the team yet, at least Fenria supposed that would be the reason.
"Kerchak, I along with the rest of my men and the storm-troopers are all well and alive," The Brontian said wraping the roll-call up.
"Excellent to hear, we'll be stopping in another eight kilometers for an equipment check and a break. The Capitan assures me that we'll be okay for a little while after repelling a raid of that size, so make the most of it because we won't be stopping again until we reach the edge of the Pthume jungle, Dauntless out." Dauntless had been refering to the merc leader who the mercs all seemed to universally call 'The Capitan' the 'The' being a part of his actual title it seemed, or was it his actual name...Fenria couldn't decide. Everyone settled back into the previous silence that had preceeded the attack.
"So, tha' was quite somethin' ta watch... These local boys 'n gals sure are a tenacious bunch ain't they." Gunther said breaking the silence. If their truck's defenders had heard that they ignored it as they focused on their own discussion in the local dialect, it looked to Fenria as though they were arguing over a map...not very reassuring.
"Aye they definitely have some steel in their spines, what do ya say lass? Even you hafta admit these locals are pretty good," Schmidt agreed passing over the conversation to Virtanen.
She grunted in response, what she said next was surprising. "Indeed, they would make fine mechanized infantry for the Guard, it's a shame their world doesn't allowed for regiments to be raised."
"True, very true," Gunther said as he stretched back. "Then again you hafta suppose tha' most of 'em are raiders anyway and it might not be good ta have 'em mixing about on civilized worlds."
Fenria eyed the bearded man incredulously, and then looked to Virtanen to see if she'd really take such obvious bait. Not so much to her surprise the Lieutenant did indeed take the not so veiled bait throw her way, it was apparent in the look she threw Gunther's way.
"Aye now lass..." Schmidt tried to intervene apparently wanting everything to go smooth, but Virtanen cut him to the quick.
"Not a subject you should be commenting on Legionaire given your less than reputable past," she said lowly with thinly concealed distaste.
"Ah, sorry forgot my place there for the moment Lieutenant, perhaps one of your standing could remind me of what 'subjects' I am allowed ta comment on." Gunther's tone blatantly said he was having fun rankling the Scintillian's feathers. Virtanen opened her mouth to comment before Schmidt decided to end the bikering before it escalated again, wanting only for there to be peace it seemed.
"Well now I think we should all be keeping eyes on the horizon for now, can'a be too sure there won't be anymore raids now can we?" He stated loudly cutting off anymore attempts for the arguement to continue. Then lowly to Gunther he said. "Gunther mate shut it will ya, I don't wanna have ta pull the lass from yer throat damn it."
"Aye I'll leave yer 'lass' alone," Gunther grumbled back not audible to the rest of them save Schmidt.
Schmidt nodded approvingly. "Good then, Gunther and I'll keep an eye on the left side, lass, S-1049, S-1050 you keep eye's ta the right," he smiled assuringly, Virtanen gave out a huff before turning away to keep a lookout. Fenria threw a look to Jericus that clearly said 'what the keck just happened?' he just gave her a shrug and motioned with his head to say they should probably take part in the lookout just to humor the situation.
She accepted his response and quickly agreed with his thought ruminating on the interactions of her still relatively new comrades. There was still a lot they didn't know about the Dauntless retinue, and it seemed they'd be continuing to learn new things each day. As had been their first impression the crew was varied and more than a little eccentric, though according to a past conversation with Schmidt most Inquisitorial teams tended to be idiosyncratic in their own ways.
The drive passed by quickly enough with the immediate danger dealt with and soon enough the trucks were coming to a stop in the middle of nowhere for the rest as Dauntless had said they would. The mercs were the first to get out of their vehicles those left immediately going to inspect every inch of their respective rides for possible problems. In particular the driver of the lead truck in the convoy was lamenting over the ragged cuts in the side of his truck caused by the buggy blenders as Gunther had call them when he saw the damage.
They were also cleaning off the remains of their lost man that had stuck to the siding when he had gotten diced up by said blender. Their own truck crew was doing their own kind of inspection including lance and ammo count. When the manic lance thrower pulled out a spare fuel tank from the underside of the truck bed to start topping off the tank Schmidt jumped back.
"Emperor's sake man, yer tellin' me we were sitting ontop of volatile fuel like tha' in the middle of a fraking firefight." He exclaimed to the merc who looked taken aback by the bearded man's sudden outburst.
"Standard to keep spare fuel around on a journey across the flatlands otherworlder, don't want to get stuck out here with an empty tank. Especially if we attract another raiding party," the merc said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"But what if those bastards had hiot tha' tank? We all would've been kablooy you damn nutters, and I happen ta' like my limbs attached ta' me unlike my skull-faced friend." Schmidt gestured to Jericus pointedly who simply shrugged as the merc looked over to him trying to find which limb was fake.
"Nothing to worry about, raiders wouldn't risk blowing apart an engine if they can help it. Not good for salvage or business for that matter, they were trying to take out us or our tires, not wholesale destroy our rides, they want those as intact as possible to either sell or use later," Their driver explained having overheard as she finished up her inspection of the engine, she looked up at Schmidt. "So calm down, it's safe to carry spare fuel with us, besides it's located right next to the main fuel tank anyway, so it's well protected."
Schmidt continued to give the mercs a boggle-eyed stare. "Let it go Legionaire, these men and women obviously know more than you about what they are doing," Virtanen stated with a surprisingly not unkind tone of voice. Possibly her way of trying to assuage Schmidt's thoughts of the situation. Even more surprising was that it worked as the bearded man took a few deep breaths and actually began to relax, most thoughts of being blown to pieces in firey explosions eased from his immediate thoughts.
"Aye lass, I think I'll do jus' that, otherwise I may lose my bleedin' composure," the mercs all eyed him with looks practically stating that he already had. They went back to their work when Virtanen sent a stern look their way though, which did not go unnoticed by Fenria. There seemed to be more to the Lieutenant than she had initially thought.
"Already late for tha' mate, composure is in the rearview by now and a few miles back that way." Gunther said with a laugh.
Schmidt gave his friend a glare but didn't say anything lest the situation get worse, and given the way conversation had been going thus far today Fenria was sure that things most likely would have escalated. Thankfully though they did not and moments later a call over the vox-net distracted all parties save for the mercs who were content to work on their vehicles and prepare for the final leg of the journey they had been hired for.
"Alright team, gather up to me it's time for a quick recap before we get moving again." Dauntless' voice came through clear as day and they all stopped in their attentions to each other to walk over to their leader's position. Making brisk progress Fenria could see Dauntless already setting up the old fabric map drawn up for the mission to see them through the areas of Headstone they'd be traveling.
Dauntless cast his gaze around him as everyone arrived to get a view and listen in, Interrogator Sothy and Jessmuck right at his side as he went over the map in his mind before relaying the outline to the team. His hands gestured to various landmarks, and calculated points on the map as he detailed the journey to them.
"Okay, so this should be simple. It's another fifeteen kilometers to the edge of the Pthume, there we'll rendezvous with our initial guide, a local who'll take us to the outpost where we'll have a day's rest, and obtain adequate provisions for a few weeks trek in the jungle. He'll also show us where this pict was taken," Dauntless put the fuzzy picture of the xeno he had called an Eldar when he had first briefed them on the mission tapping it as he did. "Corporal from there we're counting on you to pick up the trail for us."
"A few weeks humping through the jungle? Sounds like a good time to me Dauntless, don't worry though I'll give it my best," the Catachan replied, and though his tone was confident there was an underlying tone in his body language Fenria could read that said he was nervous.
Dauntless didn't seem to notice though, or simply didn't think it mattered. "Good to hear Corporal. Now I'm glad to say that The Capitan believes we should be fine for the rest of the ride to the Pthume, apparently that raid was unusual so close to the edge of the jungle and the closer we get the less likely an attack on us will become. Let's just get through the next few kilometers ladies and gentlemen, soon we'll be on our own feet. Now back to your trucks, time to move."
Command given the retinue dispersed leaving Dauntless with those riding with him to fold up the rather large map. Fenria noted that their truck crew was ready with the engine started again by the time they arrived and nearly as soon as they clambered up into the truck-bed they were off.
A/N: Took longer than I would have liked for a realtively medium length chapter, but it's as action packed as I had wanted it to be so please let me know if I captured that mad max style vibe of car combat that I was going for. Apologies as the usual for the lateness, certainly didn't go 'according to plan' as a certain bird god always likes to say, or did it? Joking aside kindly review and let me know haw the chapter was, this was kind of a refresher to brush up on my action scene writing skills, and I'm not sure exactly how I feel about the result, so feedback is appreciated.
Shout-outs:
gwb99- Hmm, I am going for that sort of unhinged, not quite right in the head, but still brilliantly dangerous vibe, so I'm not sure if willy wonka's voice in your head means that I've succeeded or not lol. And yes the 'no one ever expects the Inquisition!' line is also one of my favorites as well. Also you are correct sir, drafts, drafts galore! But no insight into that until at earliest next chapter.
Anon 2- Glad to hear you are enjoying the story thus far and I hope you continue to, thank you for the feedback.
Jerry- Thanks for the marathon reviews, they really made my day... err week. At some point your concerns shall be addressed, just gotta get the will and the time to do it. I do so appreciate the critical feedback, and it really does have impact for me, so thank you yet again you made some good points in terms of realistic expectation, as for the commas that's simply tricky for me at least. I probably overthink it but most sections where they seem they could go, seem as though I'm splicing them in at the wrong time. Anyway grammar is not really my strongest point, so I will of course attempt to improve. Right now though that focus is turned toward getting rid of as many stupid little typo mistakes as I can, reading back through some of the chapters myself I've noticed quite a few. Thanks again, hope you continue to enjoy the story.
Expect the usual timetable, hopefully I'll get back into my groove. Worry not this story shall be finished ladies and gentlemen, goodday or goodnight wherever you may be.
300-709.