Narration Room: vixens

Driving Lesson Chapter 8 Page 1

Mabel eased the pickup back into the Vixen garage in the lower levels of Covenant. They were home. George was home, almost.

It was the end of a long day. George took off his mask and helmet, allowing him to finally feel the cool comfort of sweat evaporating naturally. It had not been prudent to remove his headgear earlier since he had been in a moving vehicle. Covenant's streets might be safe but in the unlikely event of a traffic accident, it would have been terribly embarrassing to survive the wastes only to meet serious injury so close to home just because he had removed his helmet early.

George got out of the pickup. He simply wanted to return home and get some rest. It was late. He was very tired. He had worked hard. And he had survived two firefights that day.

"Hey, Squirt, can you fix our ride?" Mabel asked.

So much for getting rest.

Tricia started unloading the cargo. Their tribeswoman, Iona, had been left in the wasteland since she could not enter the tower city.

George surveyed the extensive damage to the pickup. There were bullet holes all over the armor plates, especially at the rear. A few of the plates at the back had cracked. One section of the roll bars was bent a little out of shape. But he knew that the armor had done its duty - few of the bullets had penetrated.

"Probably," George replied, "But I haven't much practice fixing vehicles. You're better off hiring a proper tech to check everything."

The armor replacement would be tedious but easy. Fixing the damage caused by the few bullets that got through was the tricky part.

"Oh, dollypops.," Mabel sighed, "I thought I'd be able to skimp on the labor charges."

She was expecting him to fix their pickup for free!?

Tricia took their looted machinegun and dropped it on the floor. "We've to settle all these."

"Let's do that tomorrow," Mabel decided lazily. She took out her pack from one of the lockers. "I want to find that client and get paid first."

George recalled that Mabel had been on a job with Iona. They had been sent to retrieve an unknown object from a gang of wasters.

At that moment, a man appeared at the entrance to the garage. "Have you found it?" he demanded gruffly.

"That's fast," Mabel noted.

He was a big man, taller than Tricia. He had ill-kept black hair and he wore a leather jacket, unzipped with a dirty shirt under. His gray pants were creased and there was a patch of something black on one of the legs.

There was a scar above his right eye. Was the scar a fashion statement? With advances in medical treatment, that scar could have been prevented or removed.

The Vixens did deal with dangerous people.

Mabel removed a metal case from her pack and placed it on top of a nearby barrel. She keyed in the combination to unlock it. Then she opened the case and pulled out a stuffed teddy bear, which had a striped beanie and a pink ribbon around its neck.

"Ooh, you've found Ms Chika!" the man exclaimed delightedly, in a totally lighter tone of voice. He took the teddy in his large hand.

George's jaw dropped. It appeared that there were strange people even within Covenant.

"Is that what you wanted?" Mabel asked.

"Oh, yes, Yes!"

"Then you wouldn't mind paying us?" Mabel hinted.

"But, of course!" He slid his jacket sleeve aside to reveal his wristcom. "I can't thank you enough. I haven't been able to sleep ever since I had to leave Ms Chika behind when the wasters attacked. It made me so, so grouchy."

Once the funds had been transferred and everyone was satisfied with the transaction, the man left.

"And there goes our happy, wordy, customer." Mabel sighed. "It's good deeds like this that makes me love my job!"

Tricia gave her the sidelong narrowed-eye stare. "You're just quoting that from somewhere, aren't you?"

"Yeah, yeah," Mabel confirmed, "I'm really in it for my shopping budget."

Tricia turned to George. "We'll transfer your share into your account later, once we've sold off some of these stuff." She toed the machinegun on the ground.

"Okay," George mumbled.

Shortly after, George returned the armor that the Vixens had loaned him. While removing the armor, he had found a few spots where glancing bullets had cracked the protection. So he had been hit by stray bullets. That explained the broken beads in the bracelet Iona had put on him. It was fortunate that he had survived unharmed.

Collecting his toolbag, George started for home. He needed a shower. Perhaps a snack. After that would be his comfy bed.

As he rode the travelator towards the megalift with his toolbag in his hand, he passed under a dark innocuous bump that he knew hid a camera. Yes, he was back within the safety of Covenant. Law and order ruled, so unlike the danger that he had faced out in the chaos of the wasteland earlier that day.

He would face no peril while under the watchful eyes of the city's guardians.

***

Wednesday, August 1, 2012

Driving Lesson Chapter 7 Page 4

Iona grappled with the gunner. Another waster, a woman in light armor, climbed out of a window with a pistol, trying to get a shot at the small Vixen. A grenade from Tricia snapped on an armor plate close to that waster, causing her to lose her balance and fall off the speeding vehicle.

Then Iona found a firm grip on the gunner. She pulled him out and threw him off the station wagon.

Tricia reloaded the grenade launcher with a clip from one of the lockers. She took aim at the station wagon but held her fire when she saw that Iona was hanging on the side.

Iona swung to the other side of the station wagon, the side away from her allies.

Mabel pulled close to the station wagon on her right. Tricia fired a few rounds at the front wheel of their opponent.

All of a sudden, the waster driver lost control of the station wagon. Iona jumped clear as the vehicle spun out of control. One of the wheels, the one Tricia had shot at earlier, broke free during the spin. After a second spin, the station wagon came to a rest on its remaining wheels.

Mabel skidded to a halt next to the station wagon.

"Squirt, stay there," Tricia told the boy. She grabbed her sword and vaulted out of the cargo space. As she landed on the sand, she pulled out her sidearm pistol.

Iona too dashed for the vehicle. Mabel pulled out her own assault rifle and jumped out.

A waster was just climbing out of the vehicle. Tricia knocked the pistol from the waster's hand with the flat of her blade and held him at gunpoint. She ordered him out.

Iona reached in through the window of the station wagon, cut the dazed driver's seatbelt with her claws and dragged him to the other prisoner. Mabel tied them both up.

"Squirt, bring your tools!" Tricia called. When George arrived with his equipment, the tall Vixen pointed at the broken wheel of station wagon. "Can you fix that?"

One glance was all George needed to determine his answer. "No," he said, "The bolts are broken. It'd take time to fix a replacement."

Tricia pointed at the mounted machinegun. "Then remove the MG and the ammo box."

With the help of a pump installed in the pickup, the tall Vixen started sucking fuel from the station wagon into spare containers. Meanwhile, Iona poked through the cargo for anything of value.

"You Vixens will get what's coming for this!" blustered one of the wasters.

"Need I remind you that you were the ones who attacked first?" Mabel pointed out dryly. While keeping an eye on her prisoners, she twisted a little in the direction of Tricia. "Hey, Trish, they attacked first, right?"

"Yeah," Tricia confirmed.

"Anyway, we'll be gone before your friends show up," Mabel told the waster, "You should know better than to try to raid the Scarlet Vixens. Why the last gang that tried..." The brown-haired Vixen went on and on with a great deal of gloating. Then she threw in some derisive jeering.

George decided to tune out the noise by concentrating on work before his ears hurt. He was having a hard time reaching the nuts that held the machinegun in place. He had already removed the ammo box - that had been the easy part. Behind him, Iona was bouncing up and down, urging him to hurry. Apparently, she was already done looting.

It sure would be easier for George to work if there were not an audience.

George glanced once at the hopping Vixen and immediately gasped. "Iona, aren't you bleeding!?"

"Oh, so that's what that pain was." Iona pulled out a bullet from her shoulder, from where it had hit beneath a bone plate.

"Squirt, work faster!" Apparently, Tricia had completed her task too.

Great, George had more people watching. Maybe George should start charging people to watch him work. Yeah, he would make a small fortune that way. If only they would they at least keep quiet. Hopefully Mabel was still busy verbally tormenting her captives to add to the audience size.

"You think you can get the wheels too?" Mabel called out.

Groan. More work!? He would have to lift the heavy vehicle somehow to remove those!

"No space for that," Tricia decided, "It's not worth much anyway."

That was a relief.

George sighed when he had finished disconnecting the machinegun.

Tricia lifted the weapon over a shoulder. "Squirt, get that ammo!" She was definitely bossy that day.

Regardless, George obeyed and tossed his tools and the ammo box into the cargo space of the Vixen pickup, where Tricia had dumped the machinegun.

Once everyone was in the pickup, Mabel drove them away before more wasters showed up.

***

Driving Lesson Chapter 7 Page 3

According to the radar, there were still four pursuers after them. George wanted a look at them but did not want to risk his head. Well, he could not anyway with his seat belt on. Hey, was there not a rearview camera?

Searching through the menus on the datapad, George found the rearview camera that Tricia had used. Images from that camera fed into the datapad showed him clearly their pursuers. It had not been necessary to risk his head earlier!

"Argh, can't find it!" Tricia exclaimed, "Pass me the double-R four G."

George looked at the two rifles at his feet, wondering which one Tricia wanted. Iona peeked over her seat and helpfully pointed at the grenade launcher. George picked the weapon up and passed it over his shoulder to Tricia.

"If you're thinking paint grenades," Mabel said, "I want all of them following close, but not too close."

"You've got something planned?" Tricia asked.

"Yeah, I do," Mabel confirmed, "That thing we used on Old Golden Teeth."

"Squirt, pass me the datapad," Tricia requested.

George handed her the device.

"What have you been watching?" Tricia mumbled as she touched a few buttons on the datapad. The machinegun above turned to the nearest buggy and fired a short burst.

"Almost there..." Mabel uttered. She pulled a device from her belt. "Keep them together!"

More bullets flew both from and at the pickup. George lowered himself deeper into his seat, making himself as small as possible.

"And we're here!" Mabel announced. She looked up at the rearview mirror, at their pursuers. Then she triggered her device.

A series of loud detonations exploded behind the pickup. George squealed in surprise at the loud noise. His heart raced, until he realized that the explosions were not close to him.

George risked a glance out his side of the vehicle. Behind them were clouds and clouds of dust along with rising black smoke. The dust was too thick for the boy to see anything of their pursuers. There was hope that they were all caught in the explosions and had lost interest in chasing them.

"Hah, got them," Mabel gloated, "Was afraid that I wouldn't get to use such a perfect trap."

"You missed one," Tricia stated.

The armored station wagon of Insect Clouded Terror emerged out of the smoke and dust.

"Huh," Mabel sighed as she glanced at the side mirror, "that wasn't enough to stop that."

Tricia traded gunfire with their remaining pursuer.

They went on for a while, traveling away from the triggered trap. Once they had gone a good distance, when the black smoke had been obscured by the brown of dust clouds, Mabel braked and spun the pickup around. She sped towards the station wagon, intending to pass on their right.

Iona pulled herself onto the roll bars above the pickup. As their opponents fired at her, the small Vixen crouched lower to make herself a less of a target.

Since Iona was between their mounted weapon and their opponent, Tricia stood and fired at the opposing vehicle with her grenade launcher instead. One shot popped close to the waster gunner manning the machinegun, distracting him from his aim.

Suddenly, just as they were about to pass the other vehicle, Mabel swerved at their opponent. The wasters turned sharply away to avoid.

"Missed," Mabel breathed.

"You wanted to hit them!?" George asked, shocked at their near collision. Especially since the collision would have been on his side of the vehicle.

"Sure," Mabel replied as she turned the pickup around and chased after the station wagon, "Easier for Io to jump over."

With Mabel's skills at driving, the pickup eventually caught up with the other vehicle. When they were close enough, Iona leaped onto the station wagon.

Driving Lesson Chapter 7 Page 2

George had not any experience with navigation in a wide open space the size of a wasteland, but if he was not mistaken, they were steadily going in a big circle. He deduced that from the position of the rising column of black smoke. They were going back where they had come from, towards the smoke.

Tricia was studying the datapad so George could not check the navigation data, unless he wanted access it on the tiny screen of his wristcom. There were more important things to watch out for, like stray bullets.

One bullet hit the roll bar just above him. George ducked reflexively.

"Missile!" Tricia cried a warning.

Mabel suddenly swerved aside. There was an explosion on the ground off to their left, throwing sand into the air.

"We should send them one of our own," Mabel suggested.

"We have a launcher?" Tricia asked.

"I packed a double-R nine in the back."

"That would've been useful earlier." Tricia passed the datapad to George and removed her cooling hose and seat belt. "Don't fire the gun," she told him as she climbed into the cargo area, "Without experience, you'll disrupt Mab's driving."

"If Laura were here," Mabel said, "she could drive, you take the MG and I can take the double-R nine."

Tricia started looking in the lockers as more bullets rattled against armor. "She's not here, we'll just have to do with who we have."

"Incoming!" Mabel warned.

Tricia braced herself against the walls of the cargo space as Mabel dodged another missile.

George glanced at the datapad. According to the radar, their pursuers were really close. He did not want to turn for a look and risk receiving a bullet.

"Okay, found it!" Tricia announced as she took out a missile launcher about the size of her arm. She loaded a missile into the weapon. "Squirt, climb to my side. Expand the radar to fullscreen and let me see."

The cargo area was divided by the housing of the machinegun. That made it difficult for Tricia to move. However, the housing only intruded a little into the space between the rear passenger seats so George could still get over to Tricia's side. He had to unplug his seat belt and cooling hose so he could move easier.

Once settled into Tricia's previous seat, George dragged the radar display on the datapad to cover the whole screen, then he held it over his shoulder for Tricia.

Tricia noted the positions of the opposing vehicles. She programmed a few settings into the targeting computer of her launcher. With a grip on the armor plating protecting the cargo area, and her legs on a few lockers, she pulled herself up. She snapped a shot in the general direction of a Steel Turtle Grid buggy before ducking to avoid gunfire.

On the radar, George saw the missile leave the vehicle towards its target. There was the distant blast of an explosion. He risked propping himself higher for a better view of their rear.

There was a smoking buggy spinning out of control, dropping into the distance. George ducked back as bullets came in his direction. He glanced at his bracelet. Two of the beads were broken. When had he been hit?

At Tricia's instruction, George again presented the datapad. Once again, the taller Vixen programmed her weapon and positioned herself to fire. However, Tricia fired just as the pickup lurched aside at the same time as an explosion near the vehicle. She gasped as she fell heavily.

George himself barely kept to his seat. He immediately started to buckle himself up.

There was another blast from behind. "Trish, you missed," Mabel exclaimed, "Ah, our precious missile... I want to do some shooting! Laura~!"

Tricia looked in the locker where she had found her weapon. "Only two missiles!?"

"I packed three," Mabel told her.

"Where's the last?"

"I put it in another locker since there wasn't space in that one."

"Where!?"

"Can't remember!" Mabel suddenly swerved to avoid another missile. "Just keep them busy a little longer. We're almost there."

Driving Lesson Chapter 7 Page 1

Far ahead, rising above the cloud of dust, was a column of black smoke reaching up to the sky.

Should George be concerned that he was heading in that direction? Would there be danger? He had already been through a firefight. But they needed to pick up Mabel and Iona. Were they in trouble? Mabel sounded urgent in her call earlier.

As they rolled over the sand, Tricia glanced at the datapad in her hand intermittently. "Stop here," she said suddenly.

George hit the brakes. They were still a distance from the column of smoke, too far to see its source. He looked around. The surrounding terrain was plain, with little vegetation growing on the sandy ground.

"Where are they?" George asked.

"They're here," Tricia said. She had her eyes out her side of the vehicle.

George looked around again. There was nowhere to hide. The stunted bushes were too flimsy conceal anyone.

Then some of the sand off to his side moved. The sand parted as a figure rose from the ground. As the figure got to its feet, the boy was about to cry a warning when he recognized Mabel's armor.

Mabel hurried to the pickup. "Out, out, I'm driving!" she told George as she tossed her pack into one of the lockers in the back.

George climbed out of his seat just as Iona jumped onto the roll bars of the pickup from the back. "Missed me?" she asked with a bright grin. She shook some sand off her cloak.

Tricia collected her datapad and her guns and moved to the back seat. "Squirt, buckle up quick. If Mabel wants to drive, that means..."

"That means we've to get away, fast," Mabel interrupted as she jumped behind the wheel, "The Steel Turtle Grid are after us!" She slid her assault rifle into a holder by her feet and shifted into gear.

George guessed that that was the name of another waster gang. He also guessed that bullets would be flying soon. Since he would not be driving, he could concentrate on keeping himself safe. It did not comfort him much, though.

Iona climbed into the front passenger seat, in front of Tricia.

Tricia glanced at the column of smoke. "Didn't you blow everything up?"

"They were guarding their vehicles too closely, I couldn't get to them," Mabel said as she turned the pickup around, "I mined the exits and bombed one of their storage sheds instead."

Tricia examined the information on her datapad. "Looks like they had a couple of wheels out on patrol or something."

George glanced at the radar on the tall Vixen's datapad, then looked back behind the vehicle. He saw a couple of buggies as they appeared out of the dust in the distance.

"Three more incoming on our nine," Tricia reported.

Mabel glanced at the distant vehicles. "I didn't think the Grid had this many wheels out. Friends of yours?"

"It could be the Insect Clouded Terror that were after us earlier," Tricia replied.

"What kind of gang name is that?" Mabel asked, "It sounds like something off a random name generator." She adjusted their heading. "Let's see how they like each other."

"What's she doing?" George whispered the question to Tricia.

"Waster gangs generally aren't friendly with each other," Tricia told him, "Mab's taking a course that would bring those two groups together."

George realized what their driver was doing. Mabel was driving away from both groups of wasters. If their pursuers kept chasing after them, eventually, they would meet up with each other.

"They're getting along rather well, it appears," Tricia commented as she and George looked back at the five vehicles chasing after them, "I think they're exchanging pleasantries and gifts."

"Jeez, of all things..." Mabel exclaimed, "Plan B! I've got a little surprise for them. First, to put a little distance... hey, what's with the nitrous?"

"Oh, that," Tricia stated, "It was damaged in the previous fight. We didn't have time to look at it."

"Laura would've this fixed already!" Mabel glanced at the rearview mirror. "And they're getting close... and here comes the usual banter..."

Bullets peppered the back of the Vixen pickup.

Mabel shook a fist over her shoulder at their pursuers. "Hey, I said banter! Banter! You talk before shooting! What's with the silence!?"

"Maybe we knocked out their megaphones in the fight earlier," Tricia guessed.

"Not those on the Grids," Mabel retorted.

"Maybe they didn't pack any," Tricia said, "Hey, did you pack one of our own?"

"Oh... I guess I forgot."

"This will be a very quiet fight," Iona quipped.

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.

***

Driving Lesson Chapter 6 Page 3

"Paint grenades," Tricia replied, "The paint-on-the-windscreen trick doesn't always work, though." She loaded her grenade launcher.

"What'd we do if we're hit by one?"

"You'll have to drive with the front cam." Tricia took a glimpse over her shoulder. "And is this the fastest you can go?"

The boy glanced at the side mirror on Tricia's side. One of the two remaining buggies was closing on their right. Two of the occupants, armed with rifles, leaned out and opened fire. Bullets clattered on the side of the Vixen vehicle.

George let out a squeak of surprise. He was being shot at! Oh wait, they were shooting at the other side of the pickup.

"Try to keep them on the right," Tricia said. She switched to the assault rifle. Leaning out to the side, she took aim. "Damn it, I'm not good with the left hand!" Nevertheless, she fired a burst.

"Uh, Tricia." What George saw on the side mirror had him worried. "The other's coming up on the left."

Tricia grabbed the grenade launcher. "Hold it steady, I'm going to block your view for a moment." With a hand holding her weapon and her other gripping the roll bar above for support, she reached out of George's side of the vehicle. "Hah, right hand!"

George lowered his head so he could see under Tricia's arm.

Tricia took careful aim and fired a shot. Through the side mirror, George saw a flash accompanied by a snap. There was a puff of smoke on the side of the opposing vehicle.

The Vixen fired another shot. That one must have gone in through the side window for George saw a burst of smoke through the windscreen of the other vehicle. That buggy slowed to a stop.

The occupants were probably still alive - George saw a moving arm poking out of a window. Plus they were likely to be wearing armor.

"Keep your eyes on the front," Tricia reminded him.

Their last opponent drew closer on the right.

Tricia tried to aim out her side of the vehicle with the grenade launcher. "Ugh, can't aim this left-handed," she muttered.

She switched her weapon to her right hand. Then, as she pressed her back against the windscreen, she steadied herself against the back of her seat. She leaned out the window. The Vixen immediately drew back to avoid a burst of gunfire.

Once more, Tricia tried peeking out the side. Seeing a chance, she snapped off three shots.

Suddenly, the buggy dropped back.

"Are they gone?" George asked.

"We're not in the clear yet," Tricia replied as she reloaded the grenade launcher, "The armored one's back."

George glanced at the rearview mirror. The station wagon was indeed back. The wasters had somehow cleared enough of the paint from the windscreen.

"Pull over and surrender," the waster on the loudspeaker demanded again. That time, the ultimatum was accompanied by a burst of gunfire that shook the Vixen pickup.

More bullets, larger bullets were flying! George drove harder.

Tricia sighed. "Looks we'll have to pull out one of our own." She pushed a few virtual buttons on the datapad.

George heard something behind him whir. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw a large gun sliding out of the narrow box between the back seats. "We had a machinegun!?"

Tricia concentrated on her datapad. "It's a high-caliber gun with light recoil compensation. The vehicle will swerve if it's fired to the side. I didn't want to bring it out until you're ready for the added challenge."

Another short volley of bullets hit the back of the pickup. George squeaked again. He leaned further from his windowless side of the vehicle.

Driving Lesson Chapter 6 Page 2

Tricia slipped her datapad into the bracket in front of her so she could see its screen while keeping her hands free. "Wasters!" she said.

That one word immediately had George concerned. The possibility of bullets flying had considerably increased.

"Miss Hiddenhill, I really, really need to go now. It's hard to hold two conversations when I can't pull the mouthpiece away from me."

Tricia pulled out a grenade launcher from a hidden compartment beside her feet. The weapon looked like a large caliber rifle.

"Okay, bye." Tricia ended the call. "Finally!"

"Mab's aunt?" George inquired.

"No, her mum," Tricia said, "Concentrate, we've three waster vehicles coming in." She turned on the ballistic computer on her weapon. Then she checked the sights.

"Unfriendly?" George asked.

"Likely."

"What would they want with us?"

"Spare parts, fuel," Tricia answered. She pulled out an assault rifle and checked its ammunition magazine. "It's necessary to bring extra fuel out here. Fuel production in the wastes isn't much so it's valuable."

It was a race to escape. George was going to give it his best effort, especially if he could avoid having bullets fly at him. He had an advantage - their vehicle was made with urbanite technology, which should be better than what the wasters had access to.

The pickup's engine abruptly died.

Tricia stared at the driver. "How did you even manage to stall a moving vehicle!?"

"Give me a break! This is my first time driving under stress!" George pointed out.

"Just restart the engine and go!"

Guided by terse instructions from Tricia, George managed to restart the engine before the pickup slowed to a stop.

Tricia watched the datapad in front of her, which fed video from the camera at the back of the pickup. She double-checked with the rearview mirror at the top of the windscreen.

"Three sets of wheels," the Vixen summarized, "That armored one is going to be trouble."

George glanced at the rearview mirror and saw their three pursuers. Two of them were fast dune buggies with little armor. The station wagon in the middle had better protection than the other two, and it had a mounted machinegun. It also had the large wheels typical of vehicles out in the wasteland.

"Stop and surrender!" a man's voice was heard from the back, likely from a loudspeaker on or in one of the vehicles.

"Does anyone actually stop?" George asked.

"The people who do are probably dead," Tricia replied.

George stepped harder on the accelerator.

Tricia opened the glove compartment and took out a magazine marked with an orange tape. She unloaded the grenade launcher and inserted the orange-taped magazine. "Let's hope this trick works." She turned in her seat. "Hold the vehicle steady while I fire."

"We've you outnumbered!" came the voice again, "Surrender!"

George gripped the steering wheel, determined to keep the pickup going straight for as long as necessary.

With a hand on the roll bar above her seat, Tricia pulled herself up and aimed. She fired five shots in quick succession then dropped back to her seat. She watched the camera view on the datapad.

"Huh, it actually worked!"

In the rearview mirror, George saw that their armored pursuer had turned and slowed to a stop. He had not heard any explosions. "What'd you do?"