Borderlands: Unconquered (9 page)

A minute passed as the thing on the gurney shuddered, occasionally spouting blood and fecal matter and bile, and at last
settled down.
It quivered a few times more and subsided into mushy inertness.

There was silence then, except for the
drip-drip-drip
of blood from the gurney. They stared at the bloody wreckage of the Bruiser.

“Ah, well,” Vialle said at last, handing Runch a mop. “I suppose I’d better tweak the new formula just a tad.”

“N
ow this,” Mordecai said, as the dawn broke and the sun speared them with new light, “is a good, peaceful campsite. I had a decent rest. We should remember this one, Roland.”

Mordecai was sitting on a rock by the smoking remains of their campfire, which was in the center of the stony, craterlike hilltop. They’d found the campsite a few klicks southwest of the hill where the varkids had tried to
make dinner of them. The rocky rim of the hilltop gave them a little cover; there were a couple of outcroppings, too, and three big, stumpy, green growths, side by side, looking like something between trees and cacti and almost as hard as rock. The growths cast long shadows that striped across the camp in the morning sun.

“Where’s Bloodwing?” Roland asked, as he packed his Scorpio turret into
the back of the
outrunner. They’d had the self-aiming machine gun set up, watching over them all night long.

“Feeding somewhere,” Mordecai said, standing and stretching. “On something. Or somebody. Ah—here he comes. Uh-oh.”

“Uh-oh what?” Roland asked, looking around for his shotgun.

“I don’t like the way he’s flapping his wings—and the way he’s screeching.”

“What’s he trying to say?”

“Not
sure yet.”

Bloodwing screeched again.

Roland snorted. “Like you can tell anything from that.”

“Actually—” He looked around. “That sound like an outrunner engine to you?”

Roland listened. “Some kind of engine. Where’s it coming from?”

Mordecai pointed confidently to the south. “Way off that way. To the south. Can’t be very close.”

But it wasn’t an outrunner, it was an
outrider
, a low-slung
hot-rod-like vehicle with the skulls of beasts for its fenders, and it came from the
north
, so close it was already there, jumping the edge of the crater of the hilltop as if it was a ramp. It came down with a crash in between Mordecai and Roland. Broomy jumped off, a knife in one hand and a pistol in the other, as Cess spun the outrider in a tight circle, trying to run Mordecai down.

Mordecai
had to leap headlong to the side to avoid being run over, sliding facedown close to his Cobra rifle. Bloodwing came screeching and diving at Cess, talons just missing her face.

Roland saw his shotgun, several paces away, leaning on a boulder.

Broomy rushed toward Roland, shouting, “Surrender, and you can live to serve me—or die right here!”

Roland snarled, “Broomy, blow it out your ass!” and
half turned to lunge for his shotgun, but Broomy was on him then, firing wildly. The rounds ricocheted from the energy field of his shield. She slashed at his face, using a knife like a half-size machete.

Roland slipped past the blade, knocked the pistol from her left hand, grabbed the wrist of her right—and was surprised at how wirily powerful she was. She broke loose, punching him with her
fisted left hand, and swung the big knife at his throat. He threw himself backward to avoid the slash, falling, but at the same time kicking out, catching Broomy solidly in the crotch. She bellowed with pain and staggered back, falling.

Roland landed heavily on his back, the wind momentarily knocked from him. He gasped, glancing at the outrider in time to see Cess hit Bloodwing with a fist as
she braked the outrider. Mordecai’s loyal flying predator was knocked
away, cawing, wings beating at the ground as it tried to get back into the air. Cess moved to fire the outrider’s machine gun, shouting curses as she strafed a burst up the ground to Mordecai. But she was too slow, and the strafe tore up the ground behind him as he ran, Cobra in hand now, ducking behind Roland’s outrunner.

Roland was just getting to his feet and had to throw himself to the side to avoid the strafing machine gun. The bullets almost struck Broomy too, as she scrambled to get out of the way.

“Cess, you damn she-fool you almost shot me!” she shrieked.

Roland got his feet under him, saw Mordecai firing over the hood of the outrunner. Mordecai’s aim was sharpened with adrenaline-honed precision, the
bullets striking the magazine of the outrider’s machine gun with two close, static-charged rounds. The magazine exploded, fragments of the wrecked gun shrapneling Cess’s face and shoulders.

She grimaced in pain and climbed clear of the outrider, shaking her head to clear blood from her face, staying low, snatching a shotgun from a gun rack on the back of the outrider. Mordecai couldn’t get a
good shot at her. Bloodwing was in the air again and dived at her, slashing, snapping with its beak. She fired the shotgun, missing Bloodwing.

Roland turned to look for Broomy—didn’t see her.

Then he felt the blast of his Vladof, heard the shotgun boom as it struck him, Broomy cackling with sick glee as he was knocked back, staggering against the back of his outrunner.

He looked down at his
shield, crackling on his chest—it had barely stopped the shotgun, and now it was damaged, flickering out. He was unprotected, and Broomy was stalking toward him, weapon in hand. She’d gotten his shotgun before he had.

He cursed himself for an amateurish fool, not having his weapon within reach. One good night’s sleep, and a man got sloppy. He was going to have to rush her and hope for the best—

Then Mordecai was firing past him, the rounds crackling on Broomy’s shield, which flickered and went out. She stumbled back with the impacts, and that gave Roland time to turn, vault up on the back of his outrunner. He cocked the turret and then had to flatten himself as he caught Cess firing toward him from the outrider. The shotgun charge buzzed past his head like a swarm of angry bees.

“I
had enough of you two ungrateful snobs!” Cess yelled—a clue to the source of her fury with Roland and Mordecai. A woman scorned.

Cess started the outrider, began driving it around the circle of the flat crater of the hilltop—as Mordecai tried to get a bead on her with his Cobra. Bloodwing was flapping after her, screaming warnings.

Roland was getting up, but Broomy was already standing, coming
at him, shotgun in her hands—as something the size of a medicine ball, gray and massy, flashed past the outrunner and smashed into the shotgun, knocking it sideways against her chest. The small boulder shattered, and Broomy staggered but kept her feet. The gun wasn’t so fortunate—it had taken most of the impact, and she dropped its broken halves to the ground and turned to run.

Roland smiled
as he heard Brick’s familiar rumbling shout, then: “Brick’s here, bitch!”

He turned to see Brick with another boulder in his hand, a chunk of rock about three times as big as his head, which he threw with one hand straight at Cess’s oncoming outrider. The boulder smashed into the engine, blasting it into smoking scraps of metal. The outrider kept coming from sheer momentum, and Brick stepped
aside with surprising agility, sweeping an arm to swipe Cess from the driver’s seat. She went tumbling across the ground, rolled, got up, pulling a pistol—but then a dark blur intercepted Cess from her left, a flying kick: Daphne Kuller, slamming Cess hard with both boots.

Cess went down. Daphne did too, but she did a tuck-and-roll and came up, immediately lunging at Cess with a drawn knife in
each hand, teeth bared. Cess, still on her back, tried to bring her
gun into play, but it was all over in less than two seconds. One knife slashed down to pin Cess’s gun hand to the ground, blade slamming through the bandit woman’s wrist; the other came down to slice down through Cess’s throat, parting the trachea, then the spine, pinning her upper body to the ground.

Cess choked and died, eyes
going glassy, blood brimming between her lips.

Daphne got up, breathing hard, eyes bright with excitement, but calm and contained, merely brushing her hands together.

Roland looked around. “Where’s Broomy?”

“Gone!” Mordecai said. “That harridan dived over the rim rock there and . . . I guess we could still catch her in the outrunner. She’s on foot.” He didn’t sound eager for the chase.

Roland
shook his head. He had never killed a woman. He’d been ready to do it, but he’d rather not have to. “The hell with her.”

“I wouldn’t mind going after her,” Daphne said, going to the edge of the hilltop. “She’s going to think of me as an enemy now. I’d rather not have her running around loose, looking for a chance to shoot me in the back.” She peered over the rock. “It’s rugged out there. I don’t
see her . . .”

Brick pointed at the burning wreck. “See there? That’s how you save rocket shells. Just throw a boulder.”

“Don’t think that’d work for me,” Mordecai admitted, flexing a spindly arm. Bloodwing landed on his shoulder, and he scratched under the creature’s beak. “You okay? She slammed you good once. Don’t see anything broken . . .”

Bloodwing cawed and nestled its bony head against
him.

Roland picked up the shattered pieces of his shotgun, shaking his head. “Man, did you have to wreck my only good shotgun?”

“You’re lucky he did,” Daphne said, walking over to pick up her knives. She wiped their blades on Cess’s clothing.

Roland snorted. “I’d have taken her out, all right.”

“Sure you would have.”

Roland kept his temper. He really did not want this woman around on this
mission. Just didn’t trust her. Didn’t like her attitude.

But Mordecai was gazing big-eyed at Daphne, licking his lips, as if trying to think of something to say to impress her.

Roland shook his head.
Smitten.
The way she’d dispatched Cess had won Mordecai’s heart.

“Now,” Daphne said, just a bit of swagger in her walk as she crossed to talk to Roland. “You ready to stop jacking us around about
this mission of yours? We need a gig, me and Brick.”

Roland wondered if Brick truly took to Daphne talking as if she and he were a team. He looked at
Brick, who was scratching his bristly head, seeming mildly confused. “You and Brick, huh?” Roland chuckled. “Well, I’ll tell
you and Brick
about it later. Now you can tell me how you happened to turn up here just now.”

“Me, I’m glad they did,”
Mordecai said. “Those bandit females caught us with our pants down.” Daphne looked at him with raised eyebrows, and he added hastily, “It’s just an expression!”

“We’re here,” Daphne said, with a note of defiance, “because we
felt
like being here. And we don’t like it when people blow smoke up our asses.”

“I knew a girl once liked smoke blown up her ass,” Brick mused, with a look of nostalgia.
“Not just any kinda smoke. But, uh . . . aw, never mind.”

Once more, Roland wasn’t sure if Brick was joking or not.

“This is a good camp,” Daphne said. “Brick’s outrunner’s right over there.”

She pointed the way they’d come, and Roland could see the top of Brick’s outrunner and its turret sticking up; it was parked just on the other side of the rimrock, opposite the big plant growths. Which
gave him an idea . . .

Daphne went on. “We oughta stay here. Me ’n’ Brick have been tracking you lowlifes for half the night. We need some rest and some grub.”

“Sure,” Roland said. “But who gets the best spot? Most of it’s solid rock. Tell you what, we’ll
have a little contest of strength to see who picks the best spot in the campsite. Brick here always wondered which of us was the stronger,
him or me—”

“Ha!” Brick interrupted. “I never wondered that. I
know.
”

“You sure?” Roland grinned at him. “Let’s just test that assumption.” He glanced at Daphne, saw she was tossing wood on the embers of the fire, not looking at him. “See those things growin’ over there, Brick?” He waited till Brick turned to look, then made a sign to Mordecai, a hand gesture known across Pandora. And he nodded
toward Brick’s outrunner. Mordecai frowned, glanced at Daphne, but shrugged and muttered something about going to relieve himself. He walked toward Brick’s outrunner, whistling softly.

“Those tree things over there, you mean?” Brick asked, squinting at the growths.

“Yeah, Brick. Now, those things are
hard.
Not exactly petrified but close to it. Whoever can knock all three of them down using
nothing but his body—fists, whatever—why, we crown him the strongest, and he gets to choose the primo camp spot. Agreed?”

Brick rubbed his jaw. “What? Uhh, okay.”

He balled his big, metal-sheathed hands into fists, the knuckles cricking loudly as he tightened them, and stalked over to the trees.

As Roland had hoped, Daphne went over to
watch. “What the hell are you two up to?” she asked, following
Brick.

Roland picked up Mordecai’s rifle and climbed up into his own outrunner as Brick squared off before the first big, stumpy growth, set his feet, and—
wham!
—smashed the growth to flinders with a single smash of his powerful, armored fist.