Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Driving Lesson Chapter 6 Page 4

"They're closing in," Tricia informed him, "Keep them on the right."

George did as instructed.

"There should be an indicator on your HMD showing the direction of our gun."

George saw the indicator. Tricia was aiming the weapon to the right, where the opposing vehicle was. If gun were to be fired to the right, um, because of the conservation of momentum, um, there would be an opposite reaction so the pickup would swerve left. Thus, he should turn right.

Tricia fired a burst.

In response, George guided the pickup right to compensate. However, when the weapon stopped firing, the vehicle lurched further in that direction.

"Whoa, not so much," Tricia told him, "Turn gently."

The pickup shuddered as another burst hit its side. George gave a high-pitched little-girlie squeal in surprise.

"Damn, the fuel tank's hit," Tricia reported. She pushed virtual buttons on the screen of her datapad. Somewhere below the pickup, whirling noises started. "I'm moving the fuel into the remaining tank. It's on the left of the vehicle - don't let them near it."

Their opponent closed in on their left.

"Try turning right, gently," Tricia suggested, "Turn our left away from them." She fired a few short bursts from the mounted machinegun.

The station wagon tried to keep up but eventually ceased their attempt to pull alongside the Vixen vehicle. Instead, it approached again from the right.

George was about to turn left but Tricia stopped him. "It may be a feint. If you do it wrong, they may suddenly end up on your left."

Then George realized why the Vixen wanted to protect their left. Not only was their remaining fuel tank on that side, he himself was there too!

There was not anything that George could do other than to let their opponent draw close on their right. They fired their mounted machinegun. Tricia returned fire. George tried his best to absorb the recoil. Several times the pickup shuddered as bullets hit the vehicle's protection.

He was in a firefight. And there was nothing he could do but drive straight. Would he get hit? Would it end!?

Just when frustration was about to consume him, the waster station wagon slowed and pulled away.

"That's a relief," Tricia commented as she glanced back, "I wonder if I hit something vital... Let's get out of here."

After George had driven far enough that the waster vehicle was obscured by distant clouds of dust, Tricia gave him a new heading. "We'll need to stop somewhere and check the damage."

***

They hid the pickup among an outcropping of rocks.

George got out and had a good look at the condition of the vehicle. Most of the damage was on the side and rear armor, which held fine. The exception was one spot on the right side at the bottom where two bullets had penetrated the armor and poked holes into the fuel tank.

It was fortunate that he had brought his toolbag.

George checked the wheels. The right rear wheel had a few bullets in its solid tire. The tire seemed fine, even after he had pulled the bullets out.

Tricia showed George a few pieces of plate that he could weld over the weakened sections of armor. The plates were unsuitable for patching the damaged fuel tank - something more ductile was needed. George made a note to bring some suitable material in the future.

As George worked, Tricia consulted the database in the pickup's computer. "From the markings on the wasters earlier. I think they were the Insect Clouded Terror." She blew an amused snort. "Sounds like they chose the name from a random name generator. Maybe that's why they didn't announce their identity up front."

After George was done welding on another plate, Tricia mentioned, "Diagnostics say there's something wrong with the nitrous system. There's a pressure drop at the intake."

"I'll take a look when I'm done," George said, "Will we be in time to pick up the others?"

"There's still time," Tricia replied.

There was a beep in George's helmet.

"Hang on, we're getting a call." Tricia tapped on her datapad.

"We need pick up, now!" Mabel's voice rang in both their helmets.

"And time's up," Tricia said.

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