Despite all the initial hurdles, the camp making endeavors seemed to be progressing relatively smoothly from what Dirk could glean from the radio. He could see from a distance as the lit perimeter slowly expanded, and Ted’s incessant whining on the radio at the very least told their unit that his clique was alive.
The old vet moved at a steady, not too slow, not too fast pace through the knee-high snowy layer, straining his ears as he marked out the outer circle of their domain with the few glow sticks that he had stuffed in his pockets. While he carefully plowed through the rough terrain, feeling out the ground before him with utmost care, gun-hand ready, he let Jason prowl freely in his general vicinity, acting as his first line of defense, should the wildlife or anything else decide to approach.
If not for the green light emanating from him, based on the sounds alone, Dirk would be inclined to take him for the enemy. In the rough terrain, Jason moved unrestrained on all fours, his tremendous mass thudding against the ground with each movement. This wildness stood in stark contrast with the usual “civilized” demeanor the young one displayed, serving as a reminder that the boy truly was more than met the eye, making the old soldier unknowingly wonder which version of Jason was the act, and which one the truth. And despite knowing him for years at this point, those moments when the lines became blurred always sparked a dissonant reaction in Dirk.
He could not bring himself to see the boy for more than that. A scared, confused boy he’d first seen all those years ago.
Dirk exhaled heavily, just as Jason returned to his side after another quick round in the snow.
- What’s the matter? Sleepy already? - Jason joked, casually dusting off his hands from the snow, acting as if he didn’t just use them to run.
- It’s not the first time I’m doing a 24-hour shift.
- When was the last time? Twenty years ago?
- Don’t get coy with me. What’s the situation?
- The coast is clear. For now.
- Let’s hope it stays that way.
- Now that’s a little surprising. I half-expected you to be raring to go, get your hands dirty already.
- I wasn’t posturing with Ted, Jason. - he chided. - We’re in a warzone, and don’t you forget it. I may be good, but I’m still just a man. If I mess up, it’s all over.
Jason nodded solemnly, like a scolded child, realizing his mistake. He often forgot just how brittle human life was, doubly so when it came to Dirk.
- Speaking of Ted, want me to check up on him?
- He’s not a child, even if he acts like one. By now, he must have fully realized that his ass will freeze if he doesn’t get to work.
- Fair enough. Where’s Barbs, by the way?
- “Barbs”? - Dirk raised an eyebrow, which was kinda lost in the weird lighting of the glowsticks.
- Didn’t she say to call her that? - he asked innocently.
- Oh, so you already consider yourself her friend. Good for you.
- Hey, why so calloused? She’s like the only person in our group making any effort to be friendly with everyone. Maybe it’s time you reciprocated a little?
- I’m glad that you are looking out for me, but It’s really not the right time to be making friends. I consider her an ally. An important asset to keep close, but her friendliness is exactly why I can’t let my guard down around her. There’s always an ulterior motive, and I have yet to sus hers out.
- You really think she has it in herself to deceive you?
- You are too trusting, Jason. She’s smarter than she's letting on. Much smarter. You’d do best not to believe in her blindly. Don’t trust anybody here, in fact. - he blew some hot air into his hands, feeling the freezing wind pick up speed. - I want you to know this. All this banter on the radio? All the ribbing, jokes and insults? They are not there without reason. It’s all social games. Getting allies and identifying rivals. Establishing a hierarchy. People don’t sign up for multi million contract works to make friends.
Jason couldn’t help but roll his eyes. A fact obstructed by his mask.
- So, back to my original question?
- She’ll be here shortly.
Jason couldn’t help but look at him confused.
- Didn’t you order her to stay put?
- A power play. Probably spurred by her being emboldened after the victory against you. - he explained, pulling out a damp cigarette. - Currently there is no-one in the radius of at least fifty klicks that could order her around, not as long as she’s in the mechanized suit that is.
- Come on. Isn’t she simply impulsive? Why else would you mess with your employer’s infrastructure just to have a chat?. - Barbara’s attempts at a conversation under the guise of the Ouroboros drone resounded in the young man’s head.
She didn’t sound malicious to him, nor like a schemer. Just a genuine person who’d spare some worries even for him - a non-human.
- You mean the whole drone hacking? - Dirk inhaled the smoke as the snowflakes dampened the cigarette more and more. - It was a strategic move. She was scoping us out. If someone had the access to such an easy way of keeping surveillance over their competition, why wouldn’t they make use of it? There was nothing we could hide from her during that time, but we can do it now. You should remember that, or it will bite you in the ass when you least expect it.
- Then I’ll just grow a new pair of buttocks. - Jason attempted to inject some levity into the conversation.
It seemed to have worked to a degree, as Dirk scoffed, a small smile poking out from under his mustache.
- Lucky you. - with that he threw the barely started cigarette into the snow as it got way too damp to keep on burning.
- Don’t you think you’re smoking too much? - the regenerator asked out of concern.
- I think I’m not smoking enough. It keeps me grounded, unlike hitting the bottle.
After a response that was hard to argue with, their conversation dried up, so both men quietly continued to waddle through the snow, leaving glow sticks every now and then as they went. The silence didn’t last long, as the sound of rapidly crunching snow betrayed another person approaching them.
It was Elephant.
- What is it? - Dirk spoke first.
- Spoon and the rest are back with an amount of wood that should last us for a few hours, according to Mister Becker, sir. I was sent to ask you if you’d like to join us at the firepit? - despite her suit supporting all her movements, the voice of the woman inside was ragged.
- I’ll finish my round, recalibrate Argonaut and join you.
- U-understood.
- Before you go, tell Michael to get one more seat at the fireplace ready.
- Sir?
- A guest from our unit will be coming over.
As if responding to the hail, far away on the horizon, a large cascade of snow, like an avalanche, began closing on their position. The howl of the jet engines accompanied it, easily recognizable despite the distance and the wind. Elephant took a step back, betraying her choice between the fight-or-flight responses, but Dirk waved at her to calm the woman down.
- Get to it.
- Okay! - the faceless mercenary responded before scampering away towards the firepit, where more armed men arose in response to the ruckus traveling in their general direction.
- Does she have to make it such a spectacle? - Dirk murmured.
- It would be hard not to, with those engines. Besides, walking would take too long, so don’t be such a grump. - Jason responded, taking the chaos as an opportunity to speak up. - Won’t it also benefit us to a degree?
- How?
- Animals, mutated or not, should steer clear of this much noise.
- Attempting to predict a wild beast, especially a starved one, is how you become its dinner.
A part of Jason wanted to call Dirk out for choosing to sound profound as a poorly veiled attempt at venting his disapproval towards Barbara’s actions. But he decided to keep it to himself. His friend was very much dead-tired at this point, it wouldn’t take much to piss him off.
Adding more fuel to the fire helped no one and achieved nothing. The man had enough on his head as it was. Adding a friendly spat to the mix was just mean.
As seconds passed, the silhouette of Pollux became more and more vivid, with coiling snow behind its jets looking like a pair of giant wings, adding extra mystique and terror to the rapidly approaching war-machine. Within the time it took Barabara’s machine to pass a few hundred meters, the unofficial leader of the Scout Squad finished marking the edge of their impromptu camp with chemlights. This distance was carefully calculated by his tired brain as an average “kill” range for the weapons wielded by all people currently under him. Of course, there were those whose range and firepower easily dwarfed the radius of their perimeter, but they were the outliers. The current setup should be optimal for their group as a whole.
As Dirk contemplated if his calculations were accurate enough, Pollux started slowing down, now easily recognizable to those with better eyesight. The machine surprisingly decelerated in stages and with enough grace to not cover Dirk and Jason in snow. A testament to the pilot’s skill.
- Have your joints already stalled, pops? - the loudspeaker within the machine rumbled.
- I thought I asked you to stay put. - the old soldier said, despite knowing how the conversation would go. Maybe it was out of necessity, or perhaps simple pettiness. He didn’t know himself. Which only told him how tired he was.
- Ya sure did. But I wouldn’t be able to catch any shut-eye in my warm, cozy truck knowing that a half-awake senior is fumbling around the predator-infested forest, you know? It’s what people call being decent. - she explained herself.
- Of course, surely. - the former professional soldier cut the topic short, opting to switch to something that would keep his brain running. - Why were you plowing through the snow?
- Walking would be way too slow. - she responded snappily.
- I mean, why didn’t you fly? Those jet-engines on your back seem capable enough.
- Oh, because it would take way too much fuel to lift Pollux off the ground and keep him there, it’s much cheaper to push him across the floor. - with that said, one of the machine’s arms tapped its steel leg a few times. - If I use joint-locked limbs like skis, I’m saving up so much fuel you wouldn’t believe!
Now that the woman mentioned it, both of her mech’s legs were stuck in a slightly bent position, not even shaking rhythmically from the running engine. The degree to which the machine was optimized to handle almost any problem placed before its owner showed how many years of planning, drafting and upgrading must have gone into Pollux before it could stand before them as it did now.
Dirk might have felt impressed, if he had enough energy in himself to do that.
- Now that you’re here, wanna make yourself useful? - he asked plainly.
- Well duh. What ya got for me? - her response lacked any hesitation and as if to prove her readiness, Pollux's legs unlocked, taking a few steps in place.
- Do you have an infrared visor in your machine?
- Sure do, alongside–
- Can you fly up as high as you can with fuel spending in mind and make a quick topographic snapshot of our surroundings, paying close attention to any encroaching heat-signals that aren’t East Wind’s Rodeo?
That request gave Barbara a surprising pause. Filling the frozen tundra with awkward silence.
With her body obscured by the steel coffin of Pollux’s cockpit, there was no way to determine why she didn’t respond immediately.
Could she have not expected that request?
Maybe she was running out of fuel?
Was she plotting something, just as Dirk theorized?
Maybe she was on secret comms with someone else as they spoke, feeding them intel on their current status?
- Garuda? - Dirk said sternly with a slightly raised voice.
- Yeah, yeah, sorry ‘bout that. Had to ask the Ouroboros big-wigs about what the height limit to my vertical flight.
Dirk exhaled, stuck somewhere between relief and suspicion. It was true that at some point, one of the sister’s said something about the medical company keeping tabs on their machines’ usage. A shallow flight shouldn’t fire off any alarms, but they had to be careful. A little too much too quickly and the Empire could take their convoy’s actions as a threat.
- Eighty-five meters is the best they can give me pops, you fuck with that?
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
- I do what?
- Are you fine with that? Geez, you’re not that old, stop actin’.
- Yeah, it should suffice. - Dirk frowned at her comment.
- Then I’ll commence lift-off from over there. - Pollux's claw-arm pointed towards a spot a dozen meters away from Chernobog’s line of glowsticks. - See ya in a jiffy.
With that out of the way, the machine walked away from them, prepared to reach for the skies in the next couple of seconds.
- Yeah, sorry, I can’t see any nefarious mastermind asking me if I ‘fuck’ with their ideas. - Jason whispered with a chuckle.
- Shows how green you are. - Dirk responded, rubbing his hands together. The cold was slowly getting to him.
- Mumbling to yourself? Guess that’s the side effect of burning the candle at both ends.- Michael suddenly called out to them, making his way through the snow with considerable effort.- What fun extracurricular activities are you guys up to?
- Semi-aerial reconnaissance. - Chernobog quickly responded, turning around to spare a glance at the fellow merc.
- Sounds fun, who’s getting tossed?
- That giant hunk of steel. - Dirk nodded towards Barabara’s machine, now setting up for the ignition. - By jet engines.
- Won’t she be a sitting duck up there?
- I expect her to be.
- That’s cold, and I ain’t talking about the weather.
- Any plausible scenario that could befall her up there would be negated by Pollux. - Chernobog sounded as if he was reading from a script. - From anti-air fire to sudden thruster malfunction due to weather.
- Isn’t that rather prideful of you to assume so many things?
- Pride and experience look eerily similar to the untrained eye. In the end, both get verified by results.
With those words, a roar of the mech’s thrusters filled the night, throwing up waves of snow all around it, which thankfully quickly dissipated, protecting the sanctity of the glowstick line meticulously established by Dirk. Then with a sudden pull, Pollux took its vertical flight, or rather a leap.
- Holy shit! - someone yelled from around the firepit.
It was an appropriate reaction to the sudden burst of speed the machine displayed. From the fight it had with Jason it was plain to see that it was nimble, yet it still displayed a cumbersome nature of a mechanized suit then. But this sudden speed up? Didn’t feel real at all.
“How much power did she put into those engines?” - Dirk couldn’t help but wonder, slightly worried. - “It moves more like a cruise missile than a jet plane”.
While the old soldier’s mind wandered, Barbara’s machine reached the peak of its allowed flight, hovering there momentarily, before letting gravity take over. For a moment, the former Imperial soldier watched Micheal Becker flinch, as if preparing to run. It was reassuring to see that he wasn’t the only one doubting the sanity of some actions taken by the young Prusk. Fortunately, before landing, her engines spurted fire every few meters to lose as much speed as possible before the inevitable crash into the white void.
As the machine touched down, snow lifted from the ground as a white mist, spreading across a wide area. It was a fleeting hazard, but one limiting visibility nonetheless. Most of it dispersed the moment Pollux waltzed through it, servos screeching.
The machine walked up to the men and jerkingly stopped, only for its body to exude waves of milky steam, which meant only one thing - the cockpit was opening. As its front plate slowly lifted, the sounds from within reached Dirk’s ears.
It was music. Loud disco music.
As the frontal plate moved up to reveal the innards of the machine, Barbara exhaled loudly, her suit unzipped to an indecent degree.
- Holy shit, you have no clue how long I’ve been waiting for a cool breeze. - she was panting like a dog.
- Yeah, sure. - Dirk was too tired to care. - Now, the status of our surroundings?
Michael Becker gave up and simply looked away. Jason only wished that he could.
- Snow, trees, more snow. Rodeo driving away into the snowstorm–
- I meant the threat assessment, Garuda.
- I’m getting there, don’t pop a vein. - she smiled coyly, rolling her eyes. - But since you’re so impatient, there is a pack of creatures trying to blend into the snow north-west from here. They’re still two klicks from here, give or take, moving very slowly.
- How many?
- Dunno, all were kinda melding together for me, so I’d say ‘bout a few.
- ‘Bout a few? - Dirk repeated slowly, letting every word marinate on his tongue.
Unsure numbers tasted rancid at times like this, but as long as the distance that Barbara gave him was to be believed, they had time to prepare.
- Thanks. - he threw offhandedly and took an about turn towards the fire-pit.
- Little lady, you should probably zip yourself up, lest you catch a cold. - Becker finally spoke up, feeling that the gravity of the situation simmered down a bit.
- Yeah, yeah, I’m going back to my room, papa. - the mech pilot responded with a frivolous tone as the machine’s cockpit began to close up again.
As Dirk headed back, he couldn’t help but smile as he looked around. Their prudence was about to pay off with the perimeter lit up and ready. Compared to the half-blind trek through the snow, navigating back to the camp now was a cakewalk, and hopefully, the shooting would be too. As for the quality of the shooters… That would get verified soon enough.
As he entered the earshot distance of the camp, he could hear that the place was abuzz with concern, the loudest mouth of course being Ted’s.
- Leave it to the old man to fuck things up. Some camping trip he wanted, the bastard, and now we’re sitting ducks. Fucking rockets already flying our way. - the young rabble-rouser went off at no-one in particular, yet at everyone all at once, frantically pointing the barrel of his gun in all directions, fueled by paranoia, making his squadmates duck like in some twisted game of whack-a-mole.
- Chill! Chill! - of all people, it was Spoon who voiced his concern first, grabbing the barrel of the gun from behind and pulling it straight into the air, thankfully without misfires. - The fuck was that, gramps? Can you read me? - he spoke aloud, making Dirk’s radio buzz not too far off.
- At ease, soldier. Garuda’s here to assist. - Dirk announced with his voice, not bothering with the radio, as he entered the camp grounds. The fire was already burning, at least, so the matter of their immediate survival was taken care of.
- Oh, great! That bitch again! Just what we needed! She’s getting some kicks out of us with that hunk-a-junk of hers, huh? - as if with a flip of a switch, Ted’s panicked scrambling suddenly got pinpoint focused on Barbara. He yanked his gun out of his Spoon’s hands, a feat on its own, considering his buddy’s added strength from his exoskeleton, and pointed its barrel down to the ground, squeezing the grip with renewed strength. - Gimme a sec. I’ll go and kick her ass.
- Stay put. We’ve got confirmed hostile presence in close proximity. - Dirk reigned him in, grabbing him by the scruff of his coat. An act that didn’t go over well with the young bull.
- Don’t touch me! - he snapped, spinning around with a chop of his hand that didn’t connect with anything as Dirk pulled back.
- Get your act together. You’ll get the chance to channel that energy soon, and Garuda’s here to stay, whether you like it or not.
- Again with the bossing around. Fuck off.
- I’m not thrilled either, but she’s acting well within the Ouroboros directives. Bringing her here was not my decision, but it’s what we’re working with. If you live long enough, maybe you’ll learn to count your blessings. Each strike, each bullet that she takes on, is one that’s not coming your way. I don’t know what imaginary problem you have with her, or anyone else here, for that matter, but let me make one thing clear. I will not tolerate infighting. Not while we have a real threat on our hands. So buckle the fuck up, why don’t you? - he said, warming his hands by the fire.
- I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you show me how it’s done? You obviously think you’re better than me.
- Don’t think you can kick back and watch. I’m not covering your ass.
- Oh, don’t worry about it. I can take care of myself. - Ted waved his hand, latching onto a small ladder on their truck’s side, clambering his way onto the little sniper’s nest up top.
At the very least with their current lineup what Ted was doing seemed tactically sound according to Dirk’s judgment. The weapon that the whelp was lugging worked the best when deployed in either a covered position or on a decent elevation.
- If you rain casings all over my head I’ll break your kneecaps. - Michael warned him, joining up with Dirk.
Ted didn’t even answer him as he vaulted off the ladder into the sniper’s nest. It looked more like a ‘crow’s nest’ depicted on drawings of archaic ships but it worked well enough for the purpose of long range reconnaissance and fire support.
Some things just never go out of style.
With that problem out of the way Chernobog turned to the rest of his team members with a decisive look. One that seemed to be stripping them apart, allowing the old-timer to take a look at every small piece of them and judge each one with clinical precision.
Black looked at him with a smirk. Already armed and ready to go.
Spoon and Match seemed calm enough, but the former kept looking to the nest where Ted kept silently to his own devices.
Armistice didn’t even dignify their team leader with a glance, instead meticulously checking his inventory.
Lastly, Elephants. She kept on fidgeting with her weapon, while trying to keep her composure. Weapon she held looked like a cross between an old rifle and a heavy-duty resin gun. Dirk had never seen something like that in his life, but satiating his professional curiosity came secondary. There were more important things to focus on.
Former commanding officer really didn’t feel like spinning yarn to other people. He’d much rather prefer a bit of peace and quiet to shut his eyes, even if for an hour or a half. But alas…
“Let’s just ham it up” - his thoughts formed, devoid of care in the world. - “It should get their attention, hopefully they all comply with minimal resistance”.
- Scout Squad! - he shouted.
After the shout Argonaut growled sharply. instantly grabbing everyone’s attention. Most of them looked confused, but some failed to hide their worry.
- We’re currently being slowly encroached upon by enemy forces. Their numbers are not concrete, but they are a pack of mutated animals.
- What, like elks and pigs? - Ted scoffed from up high. - We’ll turn those into mincemeat!
His friend seemed to agree with that sentiment. Their cock-sure attitude wasn’t unfounded, after all, Match, Spoon and Ted all hauled probably the heaviest ordinance in their group. As long as they had a clear line of sight no amount of animals stood a chance against them.
If they met the aforementioned prerequisites that is.
- Sounds promising, but do you have eyes on the back of your head perhaps? - Chernobog asked calmly.
- Huh? - Ted raised his eyebrow.
- Because if you do not then just declaring you will kill everything won’t amount to shit if something sneaks behind you and mauls you. Or better yet, one of your groupies. - Dirk felt that his patience was slowly giving in from all those bratty quips of these three morons. - From there the chaos ensues and every single one of your team-mates gets torn to shreds following your example.
- No need to get so heated, old-man, you’ll get a stroke or something. - the young buck tried gaining some ground but it was painfully aware his behavior wasn’t earning him any points with anyone.
- I’ll get a stroke if you interrupt me again with that pre-school jock behaviour one more fucking time while I’m trying to set up a fucking defensive parameters so we can all survive this frozen hell-scape.
After those words the trio fell silent. Equally angry at someone calling them out so blatantly and unhappy about the good point the old man before them was making.
Chernobog ran a hand through his hair, exhaled and continued.
- West, south and north are the sides we are currently open from and the enemy is encroaching from north-west according to the visual intel provided by Garuda. - Dirk turned around and pointed towards the direction he was about to mention, just to be sure. - We’ll man the north side of the camp, Match and Garuda will take point, Ted has the high ground, rest of you will provide support. Take your team-mates positioning into consideration when firing.
- Yeah, sure send the normal guy to the front-lines while the leaving meat-shield covers your ass. - Match quipped quietly. This man had a weird tendency to speak very softly when not playing cards.
- Argonaut will be patrolling the main camp area to ensure that no stragglers try to flank us. - Dirk answered his worry, ignoring the snide nature of the comment. - Its reaction time and animalistic senses allow it to detect danger and eliminate it much faster than any of us could ever dream of. It won’t simply sit and soak up punishment, it will be our roaming anti-flanking system and that’s final.
Noone seemed to have voiced any concerns or own ideas. Until Becker raised his hand.
- You’ve got no plans to outline the second and third line of defense in the instance where we get pushed back? - war-monger asked quite a poignant question.
- No. - the quick answer slightly threw him off. - Because if you follow my directions and all of you are as good as you make yourself out to be, we won’t be pushed back anywhere.
- I’ve got no further questions. - Michael exhaled, while his sworn rival nodded in approval.
- If a situation arises where Argonaut gets overwhelmed you have my permission to fire upon him. - the soldier answered the last concern he could think of. - Don’t worry, he won’t mind too much. Now if there are no further comments get your asses in gear everyone, on the double! We’ve got an hour and a half at best.
Everyone scrambled to their given positions.
- Take as much extra ammo as you need and let’s show those beasts why mankind occupies the tip of the food chain.