Chapter Thirty-Four - A Pest

“We need to see what’s broken,” I said.

I was only half paying attention. Mostly, I was scanning the desert around us, looking for more goblins. Another part of my attention was focused on reloading my revolver. Two of Rusty’s fingers on the left-side hand weren’t moving right, and I could see hydraulic fluid dripping from the hand. As soon as my gun was loaded, I’d be shutting off the valves leading to that hand.

“Are they all dead?”

“The goblins? No way. Worse than cockroaches.”

As if the little bastard could hear me, a goblin stumbled out of the wreck of the gnomish mech and stumbled ahead a few feet. It was a smaller goblin, not really a threat, but it was dragging a rifle along by a strap behind it.

“Hang on,” I muttered as I moved over.

It tried to scramble away, but Rusty’s foot came down and put an end to that.

“No mercy?”

“Did no one ever tell you that you don’t give mercy to a scorpion?” I asked. “Not unless you want that mercy repaid with a sting.”

“It just seems callous,” Clin said.

I eyed the elf. He was standing now, a hand on one of the lines above to keep his balance. “No. Callous is letting them live, then watching them hurt innocent people a few weeks down the line. Goblins are a pest. A smart one, one that can learn. Damnation, one that you can negotiate with; but a pest all the same. Their cleverness only makes them that much more dangerous.”

“I suppose,” Clin said. He took a deep breath. “What do we do now?”

I pulled an arm out of my control gauntlet and rubbed it across my mouth. “I don’t know,” I said. “Let me think.”

The goblins were down. Sure. But the number of goblins here? That wasn’t anywhere near enough to keep two mechs going. No, it was more than most goblin clans were significantly larger than what was here by the time they had even a single mech, moreso for two.

Maybe this was some outlier? Maybe we’d crossed their den and they only sent the two mechs after us?

That was possible, but not something I felt was likely. There were some folk who knew goblins better than I did. But not many.

I wanted to start poking at that gnomish utility mech first. It wasn’t as... goblin-ish as I’d expect from a proper goblin mech. It looked like they’d gotten their hands on it recently. Question was, where?

I couldn’t think straight yet, the adrenaline was still running through me, but I could put two and two together, and right now that was coming up with three. Something was missing.

Refocusing, I paid more attention to Rusty’s state at the moment. From within there was only so much I could poke at, but that was enough to give me an idea of how things were going. We’d lost some fuel at some point, possibly from the actuator on my left arm leaking. Hydraulics were also hovering below optimal across most things. I could maybe shunt some from my less damaged right side over to the rest, but that was always dangerous, and a pain to do besides.

A look through the periscopes at Rusty’s arms revealed them to be damaged. Scrapes and scratches, mostly, from grabbing at that mech, but a few fingers were torn up.

That was the extent of what I could see.

From my connection with Rusty, I could feel something aching in Rusty’s shoulder, and more pain from the base of the mech’s neck. Had that goblin chopped at something? The only wires there were heading to the heatsink in Rusty’s helmet and his eye, which still worked.

So, some damage, but most of it superficial, or close enough to that that Rusty wouldn’t crumble at a moment’s notice. I’d bet my last copper that there was more that I hadn’t noticed, because there always was. A problem for later. As long as we had locomotion and weapons enough to make it to Daggerwren, we would be fine.

I circled around the gnomish mech one last time, testing Rusty’s gait. A bit of drag, some hesitancy when pressed, but nothing I couldn’t compensate for on my end. No goblins tried to run away.

We stopped in front of the mech.

The man strapped to the pole on the front was still there, dangling upside-down. I couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead, but I could guess.

Still, he looked like he ought to be taken down, one way or another.

“Watch over Rusty,” I said as I started to unhook myself. I was in a position where I could see both wrecked mechs. It didn’t look like anything was coming out of them, but still. I took my time disconnecting myself from Rusty. No point in getting into a fight with any sort of vertigo.

Mask on, I tugged my duster onto my shoulders and made sure my revolver was loose in its holster.

“Be careful,” Clin said.

“Mmhmm,” I agreed.

My feet touched ground and I adjusted my hat against the sun’s glare.

I walked over to the mech, taking my time. We’d lost a good half hour already, whatever happened, by my reckoning we wouldn’t be arriving at Daggerwren tonight, so there was no point in rushing any.

I stopped five paces from the wreck. It stank of oil and hydraulic fluids, burning mana and spilled guts. That last was maybe just the goblin stink slipping past my mask.

“If any of you goblins are still alive, show yourself,” I called out. “I’ve got something good for you.”

I waited.

Something shuffled in the wreckage.

My shoulder twitched, duster shifting to the side to clear some space around my hip.

A goblin chittered from the wreck, then poked its head out from behind one of the mech’s legs.

My revolver cleared its scabbard in a blink and my gun was lined up between my eye and the goblin’s head. A snap, an explosion, and the goblin’s neck cracked even as its head was flicked back with a new hole torn into it.

The goblin fell across the wreck, a dinky little handgun clattering on the frame along with it.

I paused, waiting for a moment longer. Nothing that I could hear, even after working my jaw to pop my ears.

I walked over to the front of the mech. It was in rougher shape than I’d thought. The spots where I’d grabbed it with Rusty were twisted and warped. This mech was light, meant for use within a city, and light use at that. Maybe less of a utility mech and more of goods transport then?

The goblins welding armour and spikes to it probably didn’t help any.

I paused next to the half-buried remains of one of its arms. Kicking at the sand unmasked one of its revolvers. It was nice, once. Maybe before the fight. A six-shot, with twenty millimeter rounds. Small, for a mecha’s gun, but dangerous all the same against lightly armoured mech or anything that wasn’t encased in armour.

It was also gnome-made, and unlike the mech, it didn’t look all that old.

I knelt down and rubbed my fingers along the barrel, revealing the name etched there. 1697-04-11-GIW 6-Shot Grus Model 97.

A gun that came out less than half a decade ago? Not a military model, by my guess. It had too much of a decorative flair to it for the gnome army.

“This is getting worse by the day,” I muttered as I moved over to the wreck. I wasn’t keen on exploring it on hands and knees. Moved to the front to see that man though and knelt by his face to tap it a bit. “You alive?” I asked.

Nothing.

Pulled down my mask and bit the fingers of my glove to free my hand before pressing it against his throat. Still nothing.

I sighed.

He wasn’t wearing anything special. Leather and wool clothes, a holster but no gun. I caught a flash of something around his neck and yanked it free. A key fob, for some older mech. Most didn’t bother with keys, not when you were likely to knock yourself out on first jacking into a mech. Still, some older models had them. I checked the name imprinted on the key’s bow.

“Pursuit Interceptor M8.” left the key with the man. “Must have been real nice,” I said as I stood.

I looked around me, searching for... something. Everything had gone to damnation in a moment, and it felt strange for it all to mean nothing.

But then, life was like that sometimes.

I returned to Rusty and climbed in. “We’ll mark how far we travelled and try to get a location mark for this place,” I told Clin. “Maybe send someone to check it out for scrap. But otherwise, there’s nothing here for us.”

“Back on the road?” he asked.

“In a moment. Looting first. And I want to see if anything’s coming. When we do head out, it’ll be with eyes behind our heads. Something’s going on, and I don’t like it when things are going on without my permission.”

***