Chapter 24

A full desert evening settled in with the cool air. The last few remaining minutes of passable visible light ticked away slowly. Stars twinkled in the unvarnished sky as the moon bashfully hid behind scattered nimbus cover. The last faint patch of orange pink dusk slowly slid under the horizon, leaving them to the full ebony embrace of the night.

Jon and Dez approached the rest of the Desperados as they finished wrapping up the repair work on the locomotive engine. Jon knew next to nothing about these things, but the badlanders seemed to know their way around old heavy equipment like second nature. Their weapon of choice? A large boxy train engine. Access panels sat latched open and a few pairs of legs spilled out of them as a few of the Desperados worked on installing vital components to breathe life into the mechanical battering ram.

The giant steel beast waited in her former glory, old, and sandblasted. The weathered silver paint scheme on the front half had faded from years of being subjected to the sun and repeat sand storm baths. The red paint faded from the elements, leaving behind a faint pink shadow. A few Outrider clan tags decorated various points of the fuselage. The whole thing smelled of diesel, oil and charged ozone.

Dez looked at the train like she was eying up a cruise missile. Jon supposed in a way it was. When one factored in the damage, these things could cause at top speed uninterrupted. Smashing up a transport truck, no matter how armored, the act would be like punching through wet paper. He almost pitied the poor souls driving their target cargo around.

A triumphant cheer of success belted out from beneath the large train engine, and a few of the Desperados eased themselves out. An older woman in a faded olive drab t-shirt with a half peeled off graphic of a smiley face and a middle finger, wiped grease all over the shirt. “I think that’s that,” the old lady said.

“Alright, let’s hear it Mary.”

“It’ll get moving. I wouldn’t chance shutting it down once we do.”

She gave Mary a stiff nod. She knew they were lucky enough to get the engine functional. The dusty old train came from a different age. Back before experimental fusion engines. Some of the older gear heads affectionately called them Fossil Friers. Dez didn’t care what they called it as long as the thing ran.

While most of the Desperados were at work getting the engine operational, a few had set about getting the remote switch working. They too reported success once the vehicle could link up with the operation center, now that it ran again. Jon was more than impressed with how their plan had shaped up so far. Thankfully, everything had gone roughly to plan. Now they just needed a target to smash.

Dez checked her watch and then pulled an overlay up as she swiped through menus. The massive locomotive engine next to them shuddered. A small cloud of dust wafted off the train’s skin as the enormous wheels lurched into motion. The lumbering wheels screeched occasionally as years of corrosion and dust ground away in motion.

Dez closed down her overlays, the dark brown returning to her eyes, and she flashed Jon a grin. “Let’s go steal a tank.”

The Desperados all rushed for their vehicles and hurried off as the locomotive sped up to its full speed. The small troupe of off-road cars and trucks falling in a short distance behind the train. No one wanted to be right there when the thing smashed into their target. Jon gripped the roll cage of the car they were riding in tightly, fighting as the shocks did their best to keep the car level as it poured in and out of various dips and rises in terrain.

The makeshift assault convoy sped along, using the train tracks as a rough route guide, riding in the wake of the train. It hurtled along like a massive diesel powered slug fired from the operations center. With luck, they would aim it right at their desired target. He just hoped everything timed out correctly. Too early and it would race right by their target. Too late and it would miss them before it could hit.

In the distance, he spotted headlights rolling lazily through the desert evening. Dez swatted him in the arm and pointed them out. “That’s our mark.”

He zoomed in and could see the massive hauler. It was a squat black tractor trailer, with a large Haltech logo emblazoned on the side, and quad wheels up front with double that in the back, pulling a large angular trailer behind it. Two escort vehicles rode behind it. The dust kicked up from the lead tractor trailer illuminated in the escort vehicle’s headlights. Now that they had visual confirmation, it would be down to the seconds.

Dez called the group of Desperados, and they all fell back, allowing the train engine to surge ahead. They all but coasted to a stop, so they didn’t give themselves away. Jon zoomed in to watch, fascinated by the scene about to play out. It did not disappoint him at all.

The old locomotive hurtled ahead at full speed and slammed into the tractor trailer just aft of the cab, where it connected to the trailer, bisecting the truck cleanly. The 300 ton engine made quick work of its mark as fire and sparks flew out in a spray of mechanical blood. He couldn’t take his eyes off the mechanical carnage as the train barreled right through the truck, cleaving and crushing it at the same time.

The two escort vehicles ground to a halt, trying to miss the chaos as the trailer, torn free of its truck cab, swung wildly. The trailer swatted the two escort trucks clean off the road like a metal kaiju hand. Small fuel fires lit the area up in a surreal orange glow, casting wild shadows all over the place.

Not long after the impact, placed explosives detonated and pieces of the train suddenly rained down all across the landscape, following a massive kinetic blast pinpointed by a fireball. Jon glanced at Dez, and she shrugged with a smirk.

“What? No one said we couldn’t have fun with it.”

She wilted at his expression and pointed at the burning train wreckage. “Awe c’mon, tell me that’s not cool?”

He couldn’t help the smirk that fought for dominance at the corner of his lips. “Ok, yeah. It’s cool.”

The Desperados rolled up to the crash site and spilled out of their vehicles. Burning fuel mixed with melting polymers and a few other flammable fluids to create a semi-noxious haze that hung over the crash site. The first order of business? Deal with any survivors in the escort vehicles. Executing them promptly, the other Desperados fanned out and created a rough perimeter in the area.

Jon rushed forward towards the mangled wreckage of the trailer and doubt immediately settled in. Jumping atop of the smashed trailer, he scanned around, not seeing anything that even remotely resembled a Hammer. A frown creased his expression and a sinking feeling settled into his gut. Something’s not right.

“Where is it?” Dez shouted.

He shook his head. The trailer sat there open for all to see, but there was a distinct lack of tank. He glanced down at Dez standing amidst some of the burning debris still. “Who else knew?”

“Knew what?”

“Who else knew about the tank? Did you tell anyone? Did you hire anyone to scope it out?”

Her nose scrunched up as she thought, her shoulders rising in an uncertain shrug since he put her on the spot. Her eyes zipped side to side quickly as she thought, searching her memory. She looked up and nodded. “A few others, I ran the information I had through a data broker to check its legitimacy.”

Jon scowled. Somehow Haltech had scanned her seach most likely. They picked up the hit on their hardware and staged this whole thing. His arm snapped into the cannon, pulsing blue energy glowing along with its hardware. His eyes went to the horizon. If this was his ambush he’d come in fast and low, just above the deck and at top speed.

He almost panned completely, then stopped when he saw the front end of a Haltech VTOL troop drop ship. It’s hard angular face making no attempt to hide the fact its skin’s armor bore extra plating. “It’s a setup. They conned you.”

“That’s bullshit. There was a tank! I know it!”

“I believe you. But it ain’t here!”

Dez paced, cursing in Spanish. “Then they must have left it at the warehouse. We have to go get it.”

Jon shook his head, “After we deal with this Quick Response Force, they have barreling down our necks.”

The tank jackers all scattered for their vehicles. A few of them fished out heavy ordnance and Jon blinked. None of that would do much to a Hammer, but the VTOL would have a hard time weathering sustained fire from several rockets. Zooming on the boxy VTOL craft, he could see the troop gun deployed from the side.

“Take cover in the wreckage. Get as close to anything burning as you can. Use the heat to shield your IR signature.”

“My what?” one of them said. Scruffy guy sporting a salt and pepper beard with grease stains on his shirt.

“Heat radiation, the fire, will obscure you from their sensors. Make it harder to shoot you.”

“Well shit, don’t have to tell me twice then,” Scruffy said.

Everyone else scrambled into positions as close to the burning debris as they could manage safely. The steady rumble of the troop carrier’s thrusters grew in volume until it seemed to resonate and bounce all around them. In the distance, a billowing cloud on the ground rolled onto the scene. Just above it, the VTOL carrier. The side mounted weapons swiveling out to fire into the ground.

Two distinct thumps following burning hisses signaled two rockets fired. Jon watched through his hud as the carrier swerved, missing the first rocket. The evasive maneuver took the bulky and ungainly craft right into the other rocket. The warhead exploded loudly in an explosive blast that threatened to consume the carrier in a fireball until the thrust from its engines dispersed the fire cloud. The armor on the side stuck out in jagged angles.

Jon’s targeting reticle wobbled erratically as the craft rocked from the blast before its flight path stabilized enough. He adjusted his aim until he felt certain the shot would land true, then fired the cannon. The charged orb of compressed energy lanced out and tore a gruesome wound into the side of the craft, knocking out two of its engines. Smoke and flames billowed out of its wounds before it slammed into the terrain, nose first. Smoke and dust rippled out from the crash site.

Jon’s arm shifted back, and he flexed his hands again. The change didn’t bother him so much anymore now as it’s just a novelty. He remembered the first time feeling like it should have hurt until he realized it did not bind him by the rules his old body ran by. Now he’s not less than human, he’s something more. Something different.

A slight wind kicked, the gritty sting of sand bit at his skin. The lens covers in the augmentations on the edges of his eyes’ sockets deployed protectively. The crashed troop carrier’s side door lurched as the combat mechs tore aside it inside. All the Desperados converged their fire onto the mechs as they tried to spill out and take shots. The last mech tried to stumble out, torn to shreds by weapons fire, before falling back into the burning carrier.

Dez sighed and ran a hand through her dark brown hair. In the poor lighting, with only the glow of the small fires all around them, it looked black. She cursed a few more times in Spanish before glancing around. Jon could see the wild uncertainty wrestling for control in her eyes. She was adrift, uncertain of how to proceed.

Deep down, a part of him empathized with that feeling. He knew it all too well. A dark and chaotic place to be, because nothing felt like the right decision. Especially when lives rode on your choices. “We need that tank,” she said.

“Okay. Do you know where they stored it previously?”

She nodded, flicking the coordinates to him. Calling it up on a map, he gave them a brisk nod. It’s a bit of a trip, but they could still make it.

“Alright, then we hit the warehouse itself. Odds are if they staged this to draw you out and hit you. They left the tank in the warehouse to sacrifice the hauler and convoy. I don’t think they expected the VTOL QRF craft to go down. They figured on catching us with our pants down.”

Dez gave him a curious look. It sat somewhere between playful and acknowledgment. “Alright, load up people. We roll. If we can make best speed, we should hit the storage facility before sunup.”

As the Desperados broke cover, they checked each other for injuries. While they saw to that, Jon hopped down from atop the trailer wreckage. Dez made her way over to him, giving him an approving nod. She glanced back at the crashed carrier with a smirk.

“Nice shot, by the way.”

He shrugged, “Knew you guys were packing heat to take it down. It’s just a matter of timing the shot, that’s all.”

Jon surveyed her people appraisingly. They banged the outriders up. Scruffy had a nasty through and through field dressed on his arm. Mary caught one in the thigh. He turned back to Dez with a concerned look. He really didn’t want to tackle this alone, but as it stood, he had the best chance of success. He knew that if they pressed the warehouse in the shape they were in? It statistically didn’t look good for some of them.

“When we reach the warehouse, I’ll go in alone. Your people are rough, and it’s best to hold them in reserve. Let me start the initial sweep and clear. If I need backup, I’ll send for it.”

Dez pouted, preparing a protest, but he held a hand up, stalling any further comment.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“Non-negotiable. You want this tank? This is the best way to get it.”

He didn’t want to sacrifice any more soldiers to this cause if he could help. These people would come home. He owed them that much. Dez studied him closely for a moment before relenting. She could see he made his mind up on this, and no amount of prodding him would alter his decision.

“Fine. But I’m going in with you. Can’t have it said we didn’t put any skin in the game.”

Dez seemed capable enough, and better to have her go along than risk their whole element going in. That reduced the risks down to a manageable level. The two of them paused at their car as the others loaded into their own vehicles after treating injuries. Dez shared the gps coordinates and the entire group set off to the rally point.

The ride through the desert this time took on a different tone. Everyone sat primed on edge now. Haltech’s QRF team injured most of the Desperados, and tension built around what exactly they would encounter at the warehouse. Dez kept a firm expression focused on the horizon ahead of them. Jon’s thoughts focused on the task ahead as the landscape rumbled by beneath them in the off-road car.

Setting up the rally point didn’t take terribly long once the group reached it. They circled the cars up like wagons of old. In the center, Dez drew a rough outline of the warehouse on the ground using blue prints they snagged from an anonymous broker. Jon used a set of old binoculars to survey the warehouse to study their defenses. He marked camera locations and drones where he found them, drawing small arrows to show movement routes.

Squatting down, he pursed his lips, studying the layout. Security coverage distribution felt pretty equal as expected, and the drone coverage meant that they had to punch their way through defenses regardless of the side they approached from. Getting in without getting spotted would be difficult. The cameras he could avoid, but the drones wouldn’t allow him the opportunity.

“I think I’ll need a diversion,” he said.

“A feint?” Scruffy asked.

“Of sorts, yeah,” Jon said, pointing at the warehouse and then drawing a line back to the Rally Point. “As it stands now, if we try to push the perimeter, we’ll get spotted before we make the facility and get bogged down in a protracted firefight. But if we set you guys up to make a lot of noise and draw fire, I could approach from the rear.”

“With me,” Dez said. She tilted her head as she spoke, showing she refused to be benched.

“With Dez,” Jon amended.

“We could press forward a hundred meters, set up firing positions here, along that ridge line just down there. Excellent cover, and a defensible position just far enough it would make the drones hesitate to advance. We’re far enough back that a quick reaction unit from anywhere else wouldn’t show up fast enough by the time you get in and do your thing,” Scruffy said, pointing out a spot and marking it with an x in the sand.

Jon placed several small pebbles in a row to show the diversion’s attack position, then glanced back to review it with a nod. As plans went, it was simple enough. Sound enough to work as well, which exceeded what most could hope for. That just left the task for him and Dez to execute. He stood up and gave them all a confident nod. “If it gets too ugly during your diversion, pull back. No heroics. We just need their eyes front for just enough to get in to get the Hammer. After that, you’re just having fun. Understood?”

The Desperados all nodded, most in banged up shape. The weary conviction in their eyes told him they experienced this state often enough to be used to it. That was a good thing. He needed people that understood engaging the enemy, and what being shot at is like. He never really got a good chance to gauge them in action, but this certainly revealed their mettle.

“Start the fireworks when I give the word. Until then, just set up and get comfy,” Jon said. He and Dez worked their way down the sloping hill, making a wide loop of the warehouse’s perimeter. The exterior of the tank storage facility comprised the large boxy building, sand worn and sun bleached. Miltech took poor care of it as it was, and only a token supply of Haltech furnishings has kept the place limping along under their care.

The large light towers spaced in fifty meter intervals were dead, with few of the bulbs still functioning, casting a rather pale yellow glow around the area that fell unevenly on the primary building. A small shed sat near the rear of the building that housed the circuit breakers governing power for the facility, if he had to guess. That would give them physical cover to approach with and wait for the diversionary attack.

It took Jon and Dez a little longer than he expected to navigate around the facility and position themselves for an advance. Dez struggled with the terrain initially, letting out little curses as she tripped on a small rock or stumbled against the roots of a thistle brush. Eventually, Dez mirrored his own personal movements and fell in behind him. By the time they closed the distance to the circuit breaker shed, she moved like she’d grown up sneaking around her entire life.

He turned back to Dez. Her expression was stern, focused, and ready. For a moment, his thoughts drifted. She reminded him of a hawk, ready to pounce on prey. He rather liked it. He had to blink away the stray thoughts, giving her the go ahead.

Dez passed the signal up to the others on the hill. A few seconds later, the distant hillside lit up with automatic fire. They weren’t just wasting rounds as many of their shots struck drones, downing them in brilliant bursts of sparks. He smirked, unable to stifle feeling impressed.

Giving Dez the hand signal, the two of them advanced through the last of the brush, pausing behind the shed until the security camera panned away. Rushing forward in its blind spot, Jon and Dez found a suitable position as he held his fist up. They halted in place, and he wrapped an arm around her, holding her close to him. “Hang on,” he whispered.

Crouching down, he charged the internal capacitors in his thighs and jumped. It was a strange sensation, speeding up so quickly upwards. For the briefest moment, his body felt weightless as they hit the apex of the jump. Dez couldn’t help the gentle whoop and grinned when he shot her a look.

“What? C’mon, that was fun. Tell me it wasn’t?” She said, hands perched on her hips.

“Yeah, it was. Let’s go.” The occasional sharp sonic reports as rounds zipped by or struck near enough their position to hear. The rooftop sprawled out, welcoming them. In the center sat a large rectangular sky roof with thick glass. He reached his hand out and pressed his palm against the glass. It cracked spider webbing until it shattered and fell away beneath his hand. On cue, Dez dropped the rope, and the two of them descended into the facility, having bypassed the perimeter guards and security. The building would notify the remaining units of the breach, but it was a moot point by now.

Dropping on top of the tank, Jon plugged into the hatch, and brute forced it. With a loud clank, the fastening latch flipped back. He scooped it up, throwing it back and gesturing for her to hop in. She grinned as she shimmied in through the hatch at him.

“Mi madre always said to keep my eyes peeled for a gentleman.”

“Guess you’ll have to keep looking, then.”

She shrugged as she settled into the seat below and to his right, fastening the harness up and plugging into the neural jack port on the right of the chair. “I don’t know. It’s not every day a man gifts me a vintage battle tank.”

“Let’s make sure it runs before we celebrate too early,” he said.

Settling into his own seat, he fastened up the cross shoulder restraint harness, and then plugged his own neural jack into the port on the right of his chair. While the tank’s onboard soft synchronized with his implant, he felt a rushing sensation as the tank powered up. He wasn’t just controlling it; he was the tank. He knew how fast the turret could move, how much punishment it could take. The rate it could speed up, turn and stop.

It was like imagining what a top end fighter pilot could do, then replace the pilot to craft interface and give him direct control of that craft. Unrivaled control and finesse. In their hands, they could do more than just drive this thing. They could make it dance. There was something else he just realized, though. He and Dez were neurally linked. Sensing his thoughts, she glanced up at him.

“It’s part of the control system. It helps increase reaction speed if both pilots are of the same mind.”

“Did you know about this before we got in?”

She glanced down, and he could feel her guilt as she nodded. “I wasn’t sure you’d be ok with it, but I needed your help.”

He couldn’t be mad about that. Jon wasn’t known for being honest with people or not holding things back, either. He encountered more than his fair share of lying during his time in the Agency. He had no right to judge her for that. He sighed reluctantly forcing himself to let go the tension in his shoulders.

“Alright. If you’re fine with rattling around in my head, then let’s get out of here.”

On cue, the metal door warped inward as the combat mechs outside began punching into it. Dez turned back to the screens in front of her. Jon focused on the outside world. The interior of the tank melted away, leaving the two of them standing there inside the warehouse.

They each raised an arm at the door. The tank’s main gun tilting up on its vertical azimuth a few degrees. An instant later, a massive fireball erupted from the barrel and the door disappeared in a violent explosion that sprayed bits of shrapnel and debris across the landscape in front of the tank. Several of the crippled mechs were trying to crawl away. One scratched its way along with a mangled arm that was missing its fingers. Sparks and energy crackled from its wounds.

The secondary gun came online and barked high caliber rounds into the twisted wrecks of the drones. It shredded each torso down from its constituent components and pieces. Jon and Dez paused a moment to survey their work. No moment in front of them and the rest of the Desperados were staring in wonder. The Hammer eased forward, crushing what the machine gun hadn’t pulverized.

The two of them linked forwarded a fall back message to the others. They watched as the Desperados helped each other out of their firing positions and fell back to their cars. Then the tank rolled forward again, climbing the hill casually until it was level with the cars. Someone else took Dez’s ride back for her while the pair of them drove the tank back.

On the ride back, Jon could not keep her thoughts and memories out of his own. Like there were no barriers our boundaries between his own consciousness and hers. They bled together like wet paint on a canvas mixing. Information and feelings instantly filled his awareness that was previously lacking. It was spending a lifetime swimming around in someone’s subconscious.

Holding his face in his palm, he tried to sort through the information, drive the tank, and maintain a fixed position on himself amidst it all. Then he felt something kiss at his skin on the other cheek. He glanced down at Dez who was touching her cheek.

“You felt that, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Must be a side effect of the neural bleed,” she mused. There was something else in her eyes. Something unsaid. He could feel she was holding back. “Jon, I... all that pain. How do you carry it?”

The restraints bit into his shoulders, making him uncomfortable. He shrugged against the harness, shaking his head. “Just do, I guess. The mission always came first. Feelings get in the way.”

“But you still fight. All that betrayal, all that loss. And you’re still this guy fighting for the little people, when you could just let it turn inwards. Why? Why stay good?”

“Good gets you killed. I just want to make things right for the people they’ve trampled,” he said. Pausing, he added, “Because if I stopped now, I’d be leaving everyone I lost or got hurt along the way behind. And I swore to never leave a comrade behind. Dead or alive.”

“So it’s loyalty?”

He shook his head, “No, it’s more than that.” How to verbalize it? All those years of commitment, duty, selflessness. His work was his life. His brothers and sisters in arms were family. The country, his ward. And now there was just him. The corporations had stripped everything away from him, down to and including his own body. But they could never take his humanity and his principles.

Dez could sense his underlying thoughts and feelings, looking up at him with understanding. She wasn’t a stranger to losing something. “Look, since we’re in each other’s head, then it’s best I share something with you too.”

He glanced down at her. “Okay?”

“It’s about my people. The Desperados. I wasn’t always the boss. My friend Manny was in charge before me. He was like an older brother. We’re not related, but he treated me like I was familia.”

She leaned back against the seat with a faint smile; her gaze was distant. “I can still remember the first time he got pissed at me for not listening to him. Kicked me out for three days.”

The smile faded. “That happened a lot, actually. I’d do something. We’d fight. He threw me out. That kept up for a while.”

“What was the longest he tossed you out for?”

Dez’s gaze fell. “Ten years.” She huffed, then glanced back at him. “When I came back, I heard he was gone. He wanted me to take over, but I didn’t come back again.”

“Why not?”

She shook her head. Doubt, uncertainty, and confusion filled them both. “I don’t know. Maybe I was angry? Fed up? Tired of not being listened to? Who the fuck knows? I think on some level, maybe I was scared. I should have, though.”

“Don’t,” he started. “If you blame yourself, you’ll just get buried in the guilt.”

She smiled and gave him a weak nod. “I guess I have. And I’ve been clawing my way back out ever since.”

The pair fell into silence while the Hammer cruised across the badlands, trailing the Desperados. The neural link they shared making the task effortless. He wasn’t a stranger to dealing with heavy feelings, but somehow the integration of her consciousness and feelings altered his perception. He knew that in the past; he had a tendency to compartmentalize. Box things up to open later, but Dez’s feelings were raw, live and at the moment. There was a luminous intensity to her he couldn’t deny.

Sensing his discomfort, she smiled ruefully, “Sorry, guess I should have warned you about the baggage I was carrying.”

He shook his head, “No, it’s ok. I just don’t know how I can help. I feel like there’s somethin I should say or do. I’m just not the best guy in this situation.”

“You’ve helped. More than you can know.” She turned to face him over her left shoulder. When her eyes met his, there was a slight sensation of vertigo, as he felt as though he fell into an infinite loop of seeing into her eyes and seeing himself through hers. Like falling through the floor, to pour from a spot in the ceiling above the hole in the floor. Repeating infinitely.

A soft smile crested her lips, and he felt a small flush of amusement. The desert rushed by beneath the treads of the Hammer. Ahead of it, the sky bled pink and orange as the sun announced its intention to rise above the horizon soon. The small cloud of dust kicked up by the Desperado convoy colored warmly against the transition of night to morning. Jon marveled at it for a moment, a knot of apprehension in his back as he expected what he fully expected to be his last moments in Haltech’s corporate tower.

Had he done enough in this life? Would the legacy he left behind comprise more than murder and espionage? Would there be anyone to mourn him? These thoughts pressed in hard at the edges of his mind as the warm light of the morning threatened to burn away his fear during their return.

‎