Hardcore - 03 (23 page)

The BaseCamp was in complete darkness, a twisted, spectral, skeletal husk under the glow from the green moon. Wary, Keenan made his way down from the rocky dunes and stopped, hand resting lightly against bashed hull, his head lifting, eyes casting over the unrecognisable BaseCamp. Would they have survived the Rockfall if they'd been inside? Unlikely.

Keenan crouched, creeping through a skewed doorway and into a corridor of broken panels. He made his way to the armoury, which had been smashed to hell. Burn marks had scorched the walls from detonating ammunition. Keenan rummaged around for a while, and found a few serviceable Babe Grenades, and one of his stash of Techrim 11mm pistols. He shoved this in his belt, and found a pack, filling it with ammunition.

Again Keenan tried comms, but there was nothing. He shook his head again.

Some fucker's playing games, he thought, and for an instant glanced up, through the mangled BaseCamp ceiling, up towards distant stars. Quad-Gal Military? Steinhauer? He better pray he's not set me up like a goon, came Keenan's internal snarl. Because I'm getting tired of this shit. Something dark, slime-snared and brooding curled around his heart like cancer. A leprosy of attitude flooded his veins.

Real tired.

He walked awkwardly down a buckled corridor, and blinked. There, lying amidst shattered debris, even abandoned by the weird organic cage, was Cam. Keenan dropped to one knee and, with both hands, lifted the little PopBot. "Cam? You hear me, Cam?"

Nothing. No lights. No artificial life. Nothing.

Cam was heavy, despite his tiny tennis-ball size, and Keenan carried the PopBot outside into the cool desert night. Sitting cross-legged, and placing his Techrim by his side on the chilled sand, eyes glancing warily about, Keenan eased open Cam's primary access panel. He instigated a power re-route, then a hardware diagnostic check and full software reboot. Sluggishly, Cam's lights flickered into life. With a gradual acceleration, Cam came back online and lifted gently, motors humming, from Keenan's hands to hover in the air.

"You OK?"

"That bastard."

"Which one?"

"Maximux. I'm scanning now."

"How did he bring the Great and Mighty Cam down?"

"Nitrogen-funnelled EEMP. Don't mock. I'm going to pull his arsehole out through his ears."

"I thought you were a pacifist?"

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"You did."

"Only when it suits me," growled Cam. "There. Found them. They're currently three klicks away, immobile."

"Camping out?"

"Hard to say. I can scout ahead..."

"Oh no. You're all I've got at the moment, and the whole world seems to be crumbling into rat-shit. I can't get any comms. See if you can establish some form of contact with Pippa and Franco; hell, any of the others. Something very weird is going on down on this planet."

Cam bobbed for a moment, lights flickering on his battered casing. "What happened out there, Keenan? You seem... different."

Keenan grinned. "Let's just say I found God."

"I can't figure it out," said Cam.

"I thought you were a GradeA+1 Security Mechanism with advanced SynthAI and a Machine Intelligence Rating (MIR) of 3450. Surely a simplistic communications problem
shouldn't
be a problem."

"Hey, listen, buster," snapped Cam, "there are a billion possible reasons why the comms might not work. From simple degradation of components to the interference of RSPs, random solar particles. So shut up and let me focus on finding people."

Keenan lit a cigarette, and headed back into the damaged BaseCamp to see what he could salvage. The remaining vehicles were all battered out of recognition, except maybe for some compressed oval wheels. With a cigarette dangling between his lips, Keenan dragged at wreckage, and tried to fire an engine half-heartedly. There came a whine of starter, but no fire, no energy, no life. "Shit."

He rummaged around in the stores, discovering the InfinityChef[tm] was battered to hell and would only spew out a thin, gruel-like soup. Instead, Keenan found the emergency rations crates. There were ten identical crates of PreCheese. "I'll bloody kill Franco," he growled, shaking his head, not quite believing that somebody allowed the little ginger squaddie to be in charge of emergency rations. With a love of cheese, sausage, horseradish, and little else, it was the kiss of culinary death to allow the little bugger anywhere near any kind of food stores.

Stocking up on a few tins, Keenan at least found coffee and sugar, and moved back to the lockers. He kicked the lock off Snake's, and rummaged around the offal inside. Then he pulled free a tiny cube. "Hello sunshine. What've we got here, then?"

Keenan crawled back through the wreckage, and tossed the cube to Cam, who ingested the storage device. "Found that in Snake's locker. Give it a scan, see what you find."

"It's a Bug."

"Yeah, I know what it is."

"Preliminary surface reading shows dialogue. Fast scanning... it's Franco."

"Franco? Why the hell would Snake bug Franco? Into a bit of eavesdropping on perverts, is he? Likes the sound of simulated flesh on flesh?"

"No. Listen to this. '
But me and the guys, and Pippa, she's a gal, we're heading down to Krakken IV, otherwise known as the Sick World! We've got a very important mishon to find out whether the junks used to live there. Or not. But it's totally, totally top secret, reet, and nobody is to know outside of this table. / Or this room? / Aye, aye, maybe even the whole
Winchester
. But the point is, they picked
me
to lead the whole expedition! And if there is dem dirty junks, why, why I'll smash them! / And what of the crown? / Crown? What crown? Whaddya mean? / The fabled
treasure
down there on Sick World? Surely you've heard of it? / Treashure, you say? / Yeah, Krakken IV is rumoured to have the fabled and immeasurably valuable treasure of Iskander's Crown! Carved from sub-PlutoniumIII, it's supposed to be very dangerous. Loads of treasure-seekers have died trying to locate it. / And where would I find such a treashure? / Oh, they sell maps at the bar, just ask for Apple Annie. She'll smuggle you one. Fifteen Ship Creds. / Think I might just do that!'"

Cam stopped. Keenan's eyes were burning, and he was grasping his Techrim in a manner that worried Cam so much that a rainbow of uncertain lights flickered across his casing.

"You OK?"

"No," snarled Keenan. "If it wasn't bad enough that our dickhead Franco friend fell for a crock of bullshit like that, it's even worse that fucking morons like Snake follow and believe. So I got dumped in a pit to die because of fucking
treasure?
Is that it?"

"What happened out there?" said Cam, voice soft.

"Ha! Stabbed in the back. Injured pride. But the one thing I despise worse than treachery is treachery for money. Fucking blood suckers. Fucking scumcheese mercenaries." He spat, eyes gleaming. "Have you found Franco yet?"

"Not yet."

"But you've locked onto Snake and his merry band. Are they moving yet?"

"No. They're still. Probably got hammered by the Rockfall."

"Good. Get your shit together, Cam. It's time we paid Snake a visit."

Keenan ran through the cool hours of the night, boots ploughing sand, shoulder strap from his pack digging his flesh and making his scowl lengthen. Despite the early hours and the chill, sweat poured from Keenan and his muscles and tendons screamed at him.

"Come on," he muttered. "You're supposed to be Combat K."

He pushed on through pain, through discomfort, and Cam buzzed along beside him, saying nothing, aware they were heading for battle and considering the part he had to play. On the one hand, he could understand Keenan's anger, especially at being betrayed for cold hard currency, but on the other - well, Snake, Ed and Max were still Combat K. They were all under Steinhauer's orders. Now that a war was on, Cam was Quad-Gal military property, and this gave him a serious conflict of interests.

He sighed in binary. Swore in machine code.

Keenan crouched at the top of a rise, wiping sweat from his face, his short hair slicked back and eyes cold. Cam noticed the Techrim, and despite Keenan's panting, the robot-steady hand. Cam had seen this before. Keenan was in attack mode. Keenan was ready to kill.

The Giga-Buggy 6X6 squatted below, currently on its roof. Snake stood to one side, smoking a cigarette, as Ed and Maximux heaved and pushed, attempting to get the vehicle upright.

"They've no chance," muttered Cam. "It'd take twenty men."

Keenan nodded, and slowly exhaled. He glanced at the sky. "Dawn soon."

"Yes."

"Any chance of more Rockfalls?"

"I'm not sure. I haven't yet worked out what causes this phenomenon."

"Try and figure it out, there's a good lad. I can do without getting crushed in the desert. It's bad for morale."

With sunlight streamers touching the horizon, Keenan marched through the sand towards the struggling men. Ed was the first to notice him, and shaded his eyes, squinting. He went for his shotgun, but Keenan's Techrim slammed his fist, a single bullet smashing the stock of Ed's gun and sending it spinning to the dirt. Ed sucked his damaged fingers, as Snake turned with an easy smile, smoke drifting from his nostrils. Maximux scowled at Keenan, his manic eyes hooded, his lips writhing as he mouthed the involuntary curses of the mad, with twitching fingers straying towards his guns...

"Touch them, and I'll blow your damn head off."

"Keenan, old boy!" beamed Snake. "What brings you out here?"

"Surprised, dickhead?"

"Not at all," said Snake, voice smooth, glancing to Ed, who gave an almost imperceptible nod which did not go unnoticed by Keenan. "I know Ed gave you the jab, but it was for your own good. Your own safety, compadre. We were just looking out for you, because if we didn't..."

"You'd lose a lot of money?"

Snake shook his head. "What you talking about?"

"The treasure. The crown."

"Ach, that treasure." Snake grinned, and moved fast, gun coming out as Ed dived for his shotgun and Maximux charged Keenan. Keenan squeezed off three rounds, gun level, head cool, and the second shot went through Snake's wrist with a crunch of bones and a spurt of fluid flesh. The third buzzed from Snake's WarSuit, as Ed fired his shotgun and Keenan dropped to one knee, teeth grim, Techrim in both hands, and returned fire. Bullets howled across the desert. Ed was punched back, three rounds in his WarSuit as Maximux hit Keenan full on, and Keenan rolled back, coming up fast, a right hook slamming into Max's face, a left straight breaking his nose, and a front kick lifting Maximux from his feet and depositing him five feet away on his arse. Gun gone, with a scream Keenan charged, fury swamping him, all reason dissipated like early morning mist, and he slammed into Ed who was rising with his shotgun, WarSuit buzzing and sparking after Keenan's bullets, and the two men hit the ground. Ed head-butted Keenan, stunning him, but Keenan's fist found the tattooed man's jaw and knocked him back. Max leapt on Keenan's back, and Keenan slammed his head back and dropped one shoulder, and his right elbow powered into Maximux's throat to the accompaniment of choking sounds. Keenan's fist hit Ed between the eyes, a second blow cracked the man's cheekbone, and a third laid the tattooed man out cold. "That's for the injection," snarled Keenan through a mouth of blood. He whirled, kicking up sand, but Snake was nursing his blasted hand and Maximux had gained his feet, circling Keenan, a short gold blade in his hand.

"I'm going to gut you like a fish," said Maximux, and Keenan could read the light of madness in the man's eyes. But then, he'd kind of known that from the start.

Max leapt forward, the knife slashing for Keenan's throat and Keenan swayed back, dropping a shoulder, moving fast. Again Max leapt, and Keenan kicked sand in his face, dodging back from the random sway of the flashing blade.

"We should have killed you back at the monument."

"Stop talking, and show me," snapped Keenan.

"I'm going to cut out your eyes."

"Why, you need four, dickhead?"

Maximux cursed.

The blade flashed for Keenan's throat and he ducked, rolling, coming up fast and giving a single shake of his head to Cam.
No. I want this one
, he was saying. I want this fight. I need to feel the surge. I need to prove I am still Combat K. Still a soldier. Still a man.

They circled in the sand.

"You scared, Keenan?"

"What, of a piss-stinking twitching lunatic like you?"

"You bastard."

"Better a bastard than have my brain dribble like jelly from my ears."

Maximux screamed something unintelligible and charged Keenan, who sidestepped, slamming a punch to Max's temple. He stumbled, knife slashing out, and whirled - into Keenan's boots. Max stumbled back, coughing. Keenan leapt again, both boots aiming for Max's head, but Max grabbed his attacker's legs and they went down in a tumble. They wrestled for the knife, punches a blur, and suddenly everything went still. Keenan stared down into Maximux's eyes, and there was a connection there. For an instant Keenan saw the light of madness fade, and Max was as sane as the next man. Then he gurgled, his chest heaved, and blood came out of his mouth and ran down his chin giving him a crimson beard. Keenan's gaze lowered. The blade protruded from Maximux's throat, angled steeply, cutting down through the man's lungs.