"And say, is that beer[? Got anymore? Knew a guy on Yuro Station who brewed some out of mushroom flour, but I don't think he had the recipe quite right, unless it's supposed to taste like feet." let's just say it's incomplete, but it's the best treasure map anyone on this continent has seen in 300 years." The data I was able to pull on my descent. I need access to their communications systems, telemetrics, anything they've got. "Do you know where I can find the rest of the strike team - the, um, COT? I need to speak with the leader again. At this point I just feel like I'm carrying a barrel of water in high-G, instead of being crushed under a cargo-loader." uh, Delta, is it?" he says, as the tattooed space-woman collapses into a chair, breathing like she's just run a marathon.ĭelta.jpg (20.81 KiB) Viewed 78509 times "A salla tu, medico," she says, before grimacing and starting over in a carefully-inflected American accent that sounds just like what you'd hear on an old Golden Age recording. "I don't recall clearing you for topside activity, Miss. Ulysses raises the bottle to his lips, ready to down the last of it, then nearly chokes when he spots the figure limping into the mess hall. Of course, Springer and Laughlin are closer, and might be willing to forge relations with their suddenly-wealthy neighbors, D-bees or not." Might be worth checking, in case you could rustle up some allies for the folk here in Marron. I heard Toto talking earlier with that Jasco fella, apparently they'd both started picking up radio chatter from Mesa again, although it was kind of strange. "I didn't know if you were maybe thinking of heading back east, to Black Mesa. They tell some nasty stories up in the Baronies about the Shibboleth, and no telling where he's at exactly." Speaking of, what's next for the victorious members of the Tomorrow Legion? Rest on your laurels? I'm sure the cyber-knight is itching to go after his sister, though I can't say I recommend it. "By then I'll be ready for some chow and about 24 hours of sleep. Taking a break from his work in the triage center, the weary cyber-surgeon appears half dead, himself, but insists he's good for another few hours, thanks to some adrenaline boosters he had installed a few years ago while working back east. That chief with the scar over his nose looked at the preacher like a Texas chef would look at some yahoo ordering a well done porterhouse," Ulysses says, before taking another drink of the half-cooled beer that had been liberated from one of the wrecked Blue Hand vehicles. ![]() "Just as well - I was worried there might be a fight when Rill insisted on burning the dead. The simvan, pleased with the great victory, prepare to depart, as well, but promise to return any time the mighty Marronites find themselves in a scrap with an equally worthy foe. Having gorged on the Blue Hand dead, the sandsharks head north, trailing the fleeing survivors. Marron's simvan and sandshark allies suffered greater losses, approaching 50 percent in each tribe, but neither seems particularly dismayed. But the heroic medical care offered by Rill and Ulysses, and the preparation and battlefield leadership of the 18th saved many more. About one-in-ten of Marron's townsfolk succumbed to their injuries, and those who survived will bear the scars for the rest of their lives. All but a few dozen raiders were killed or ran off. The casualty count is sobering, but not as bad as it might have been. Well-armed before, the Marronites have enough weaponry now to withstand anything short of a Coalition invasion, and enough scrap to trade for anything else they'll need in the foreseeable future. The ground outside Marron's gates still looks like a battlefield, but the mounds of scrapped vehicles and discarded weapons are slowly being sorted into piles inside the courtyard. Some of 'em was Pecos, sure, judging from the honest-by-god Wilk's-Remis they were carrying, but the ones like that big 'Borg? Nope, not from around here, nor Kansas, neither. "Half the letters stenciled on these shooters are either upside down or backwards, and others are just made up altogether. ![]() ![]() "I know this ain't the first time I've said it, but I'm pretty dang sure these Blue Hand fellas weren't from around here," Toto says, as the trimadore robot jock holds up another of the bulky ion rifles salvaged from the battlefield.
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