Beverage. Frye on a escort mission. John is not getting a discount. Continued from Day 5.
All the good things belong to MonolithSoft.
John the Nopon wasn't going to get his discount. The furball was going to pay Frye the full amount. This thought was keeping Frye going as he dug his longsword into the drift of rock shards again and again. Even if John squawked about losing the 'potomus and his merchandise, he'd cough up every credit if Frye had to turn him over and shake it out of his headtuft. Frye had to find him first, and before that he had to get himself free.
Damned birds, going nasty because of nesting season or some other reason that probably had been in a Division briefing but which had gone in one ear, out the other. Or would have, if Frye had attended briefings. He'd been off this week, for reasons, so he'd skipped them. A trickle of gravel managed to hit his mouth directly. Fine with him. Gave him a reason to stop and spit, before going back to digging himself out of the rock pocket where he'd sheltered.
The birds were getting smart. They should put that in a briefing. The largest of the flock had snatched Frye's grenade in mid-air and, in a move that was faster than a human eye could follow, had rebounded it into the cliff face directly over Frye and John. Mim eyes were faster than human ones, though, and Frye had flung John out of the blast range. He hoped. He wasn't sure because he'd been buried in an avalanche moments later.
No idea what had happened to the pack animal. Oh well. Pack animals didn't pay the bill.
It had only been a flash bang, something to scare the tweetie birds. Frye pried a small boulder free, ducked another shower, dug some more. They could have just as easily flapped their damn selves out of the way. He and John weren't interested in any old eggs. Frye scooped a few buckets-worth of rocks with his hands, the attacked the pile. A wink of green showed at the top edge. Impatient, Frye lunged for freedom, squirming one hand to flap in the open air. Someone yelled in response outside.
Frye was of the belief that if you could stick your head through an opening, you could pull yourself through it. Mimeosomes were like hamsters that way. It wasn't many minutes later that he was kicking his way out of the top of the rock pile.
He slid to the bottom and looked around for his client. John hadn't made any noise beside that one shout. He found the Nopon fretting over the nopopotomus. The ugly beast was lying on its side, flanks heaving."Is it bad?" Frye asked.
"If get on feet may recover, but not can carry single littlepon today."
Frye gave the beast a tentative shove with his shoulder. It struggled to right itself. "Maybe we can split the merch. Carry most of it, you know?"
"Frye take bulky items but John take beverages. Not trust."
"Fair. Okay, on three. One, two, three, hi-yup!"
a/n: I like shoving Frye into caves.
Next up: Inked.