HEAVY TYPE:
Lleyrew'sSpeat, Scruffy and Sand Riders
"Ok Weryell, bring her out nice and slow... that's it... a little to the left.. no wait! RIGHT! RIGHT!"
Weryell cursed as the sound of rending metal filled his helmet.
"Dammit Ashe, I told you, give the directions from MY point of view."
The crew were all sitting around the unit's old Camel, idly eating from Speat tins and watching as Weryell piloted his beloved Hunter/Jager out from their secret facility in the heaps of Khayr ad-Din. After his impromptu 'duel' back at the Pit, the Basilisk Recon was still in a state of disrepair. The purse from the duel had barely paid to replace the bent right leg, let alone the wasted pack gun and crippled left arm. Yenlar had managed to scrounge up a few actuators, but the repairs would take too long to complete, and Miss Sandy had just come back from Peace River with another mission.
Weryell cursed again as the dull 'clang' from his gear's head smacking the low garage opening reverberated through the cockpit.
Ashe's voice crackled over the com.
"Ooh, watch it Weryell. There's a big shiny dent on your head now."
Weryell grumbled. Bootzilla had used the last of the 'Desert Sand Tan Fire Mist' paint last night to try to match the stolen Jager arm to the rest of the Hunter frame. Another can of paint wouldn't be found until they stumbled upon a caravan somewhere. At least they wouldn't have to pay for it... unless Miss Sandy was still around.
Weryell turned his gear into a coordinated pirouette as he brought it out into the midday sun. The Hunter's NNet had formerly belonged to an ESE Gear Ballet trainer model, and it hadn't fully adapted to the rigors of combat yet. Weryell didn't argue with it, though, since a well-timed rendition of 'Swan Lake' had once caused the gear to tumble off the top of a mesa and out of the way of an incoming artillery barrage.
Weryell signaled to the rest of the unit.
"Ok, everyone mount up. We need to be half-way to Red Sands by nightfall. Ashe, you get the Camel..."
"Again?" Ashe whined, "I'm always in the Camel!"
"That's because you insisted on learning how to fly hoppers instead of something practical. Besides, Miss Sandy will be riding with you."
"Oh," Ashe sounded placated now, "Well, yeah... Miss Sandy, ok."
Weryell sighed, he'd have to hire a MILICA drill sergeant someday to teach his men some discipline.
"Ok, Yenlar, lead your Anolis onto the Camel. I don't want another screw up like when you shut down in the middle of that sandstorm.
"Bootzilla, Joe, you guys form up on the flanks. Keep your eyes out for trouble. Let's move out."
With a rumble of engines and the clank of loose parts, the unit headed out of the heaps towards Red Sands. Weryell couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he was forgetting something crucial about this trip, and a few hours later he remembered what it was.
"Hey, uhh.. anyone know why this sand is white?"
Bootzilla's Warrior was holding a handful of sand in one hand, poking through it with a branch.
"What are you talking about, Bootzilla?" Joe asked.
"I'm talking about this sand! There's little white grains in it."
"All sand is white, you nimwit," Joe replied.
"Maybe to you, Joe, but as your doctor I can tell you that you've been manifesting signs of color blindness in your good eye."
"Ahh, what do you know, you're not even a good doctor."
Weryell broke in, "All right you two, knock off the chatter. I don't think the white sand is concentrated enough here to pose any sort of problem. Let's just keep moving and set up camp at nightfall."
A few minutes later, Yenlar opened up the com.
"Hey, I've got something up on that dune. It looks like... *craaackt* *ztzzzzt* *POP*"
"Yenlar?" Ashe came on. "Yenlar? Report!"
"*ZZZZZT* Sorry, had a shut down. Anyhow, I thought I saw some people up there. Must've been a sensor glitch."
"Hey!" Ashe cried, "Guys! Scruffy's gone!"
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