Chapter Eleven - Into the Vastness

I’d picked up some odd jobs in my day. I’d been a bounty hunter for... well, I never had been keen on keeping track of time. Some five, maybe ten years, at least? Before that I was just a hunter, no bounty to the name, and before even that, I’d done my part patrolling and playing the guard around Galenook.

I’d been around, was what I was trying to say. I did a bit of everything. Killing things, killing people, capturing folk so that they could be killed at the town gallows. Sometimes I did escort work, merchant caravans to and from Galenook, mostly, sometimes as far north as Sisterfield, that work involved killing whatever messed with the caravan.

Most of the jobs I’d taken involved making things see the end of a barrel just before it flashed.

This would be my first job carrying a living person, and it was likely going to be my last.

Clin was eyeing up Rusty as if he’d just discovered a pile of sand wyrm sick under his boot.

“You took out two gnome warmechs in that?” he asked.

I nodded. “Rusty’s pretty tough,” I said. It wouldn’t do to downplay things to a customer.

Clin eyed Rusty, then the far more impressive elven mechs. There had to be three, maybe four decade’s difference in the tech there. “How?” he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “A bit of everything. That’s how fights usually go. Rusty’s in rough shape right now. Sun’s about two hours from setting. Might take that long to get everything back into working order. Longer, maybe. I want to try my hand at salvaging what I can here.”

Clin shook his head. “We should head out. The sooner the better.”

“Fast isn’t something you do in the Vasts. Fast and irresponsible is something you do once,” I said.

The elf’s face twisted. “That’s not it. The gnomes, they have radios.”

“Radios?” I asked. I’d heard of those, but...

“To communicate? Over long distances? It’s what the antenna on their mechs are for.” he pointed to a long wire sticking out the back of one warmech. “They must have told their allies where they were. We could have a squadron of gnomes show up at any moment.”

I hissed, the sound made hollow by my mask. “Then we scavenge quickly,” I said. I needed the night to come in either case. With the stars out, and at least one landmark out, I’d be able to pin the location on a map. If I couldn’t bring the scrap back myself, I could set a bounty for someone to come and gather some of it. Even a ninety-ten split, with me getting the ten... well, with the mech carcasses that were here, that would give me a nice pay for very little actual work.

I started by returning to Rusty and climbing up his front to pick up after the mess in my cabin. If we were going to fit two in there, then it'd be nice if it was at least somewhat clean. I had a little broom clamped to the side that I used to drag the sand out when I was done.

Clin came over and looked in. He was tall enough that he didn’t need to climb anything to peek inside. “That’s not the cleanest mech I’ve seen,” he said.

I paused and looked over my shoulder at him. “I live in here,” I said.

“I can tell.”

“Are you going to be this...” I gestured towards him.

He sighed. “Forgive me. My tongue has landed me in trouble before.”

“I’ll bet,” I said.

“Will your mech support my hab?”

“Your what?” I asked as I flicked the rest of the sand out. If some of it splashed on Clin’s chest, he didn’t comment.

The elf gestured. “The unit on the back of that mecha over there.”

I followed his pointing finger to the mech with the strange back-pack on. “That thing? No way it’ll fit on Rusty.”

“We could engineer something,” he said.

“I thought you were in a hurry?” I asked.

He nodded, but it looked a little reluctant. “I am. But that hab unit has a great air cooling system, and I’m contemplating fainting right now.”

I scoffed as I jumped down and landed next to him. “Toughen up, pretty boy. Getting used to the heat won’t harm you. And get a hat on before you stroke out.” I walked past him, heading towards the gnome tank I’d shot down.

“Wait! Where are you going now?”

“Looting!” I said.

“Isn’t that? Oh, nevermind.”

“Isn’t it what?” I asked as I got closer to the mech. The dead gnome below it was long gone, the sand having swallowed her blood. I stepped around the body and tugged the hatch she’d fallen out of open. The gnome mech sat fairly low to the ground, probably owing to having three legs and a bit more bulk to them. Strange design for folk living in the mountains, but who was I to question it.

“It’s... savage,” Clin said. “To rummage around the dead.”

“It’s practical,” I said as I stuck my head into the mech. It was tight in there. There was an ammunition rack at the end, with shells that I guessed were forty or maybe forty-five millimeters. Nasty.

The gunner was slumped at the back, very dead. A third gnome, this one with a nicer hat and uniform than the other two, was laying with his face against a machine with dials and knobs all over it. Every few seconds, it let out a low, whistling sound. Sometimes there was chatter too, but I couldn’t understand a lick of it.

“They’re still receiving,” Clin said as he poked his head in.

“Their radios?” I asked. “Could they have told anyone where they were?”

The elf frowned very faintly. “Possibly. It depends on if they had the power for a strong enough outgoing signal, and if anything interfered with it. How did they die?” he asked.

“Spalling,” I explained offhand before squeezing into the mech. The ammo was useless, but there was access to the mech’s engines in the back. I had to tug a casing off to see the mess of wires and pipes that were the internals, and that wasn’t easy when the cramped mech was designed to accommodate folk a head shorter than me at most. “They have plenty of fuel,” I said as I tugged out a power cylinder. It was a fancy sort, with a spinning trowel inside it powered by a tiny hydraulic line.

I shook the contents, and peeked at the glass opening on the canister’s side. Three-quarters full. Good. I tossed it to the elf.

“You’re low on fuel?” he asked.

“Not anymore,” I said. The gunner had a little handgun on his hip, as did the operator at the back. Both looked like they lacked any kick, but I grabbed the guns and a pair of magazines besides. “Magazine-fed guns,” I scoffed.

Clin blinked. “They’re the height of technology, aren’t they?”

“They’re not reliable,” I said. “No gun that gets outmatched by some sand is.” I grabbed the operator’s hat off his head, then squeezed out and landed with a puff, then straightened my coat. “Here,” I said, giving the elf the hat while I checked the safeties on the handguns and stuffed them away.

He blinked at the hat, then sighed and put it on. It made him look ridiculous. “Thank you, I suppose.”

“Got anything you want?” I asked.

“You’re not going to repair your mech?” he asked. He was still holding the canister of fuel.

“I’m going to loot first. Maybe find some spare tubing, and a few other odds and ends.”

Clin nodded. “I’m a trained engineer, you know.”

I paused. “No, I didn’t,” I said.

The elf looked down at his robes, then back up to me. “Ah, of course. Well, I can help. But I’m used to working in... better conditions.”

Did I trust the elf with Rusty? For that matter, with my ability to make it back alive? “No, it’s fine,” I said. “Got anything you want in that ‘hab’ of yours? Then get it.”

I watched the elf run off. I had the impression that it would be a long trip with the stuck up bastard. What sort of person lost that much then went on without flinching? I shook my head; I didn’t have all day to wonder about my new client. I returned to snooping around. Found some rations in a little tin box, and a nice little bottle of gnomish gin that burned fine when I tried it.

The sun was starting to dip. Soon, the night would come, and with it the cold. I was... tired. Wouldn’t show it to the elf, but I needed to rest for a bit. Knowing when to pause was one of those things that took a while to learn in the Vasts, but was damned important.

Once I had that elf nearby again, and his guard dropped a little, I’d ask him just what in the storms happened here.

***