Borderlands: Gunsight (28 page)

“Extra, I order you to stay in here! Wait here! Don’t follow me out! Am I clear?”

“You’re clear—but I have no control over it! She’s set me up to follow you around when the bomb is near going off! And remember, I can jump into the outrunner and if you try
to blow me up I’ll blow you up—it’s a very, very large bomb, with a small nuclear weapon in it . . .”

“A nuclear . . . ? It can’t be.”

“She was always very good at miniaturization.”

“Oh by the . . . Look, just . . . can you turn it off or not?”

“I’ve been working on it . . . time is almost up . . . working . . . time is getting short . . . working and . . . there.”

“There? ‘There’
what
?”

“The bomb has been switched off. I’ve done it.”

Mordecai frowned. “How do you know? Maybe she’s tricked you.”

“Try walking away from me.”

Mordecai walked away from him, going hastily out to the outrunner. He turned and saw that the robot had waited for him inside. The seconds ticked by.

I ought to run . . .

But by now the thing would’ve gone off. Unless she was just playing with him. Which was always possible.

“Extra—you definitely disarmed? Are you confident of this?”

“Yes. You see, she made an error in the override system, and I found it. I overrode her override.”

Mordecai expelled a long, slow breath. He realized his pulse was pounding. “I need a drink. But I’ll settle for getting the hell out of here.”

“What about me?” the Claptrap asked.

“I’m afraid . . . you’re going to have to . . . to come along behind us.”

“I can’t take a vehicle without permission; that inhibition is programmed into me. But if you will assert that you own all the vehicles on the street by right of conquest, I can follow in an outrider.”

“Fine. You do that. Just don’t get too close. I don’t trust her.”

Mordecai climbed into the vehicle. “Come on, Brick. We’re going.”

“Where we going?”

“We’re going to follow some tracks. We’re going to find that damned land battleship. And we’re going to find a way to bring it down.”

Brick chuckled. “That sounds impossible!
Let’s go!
”

•  •  •

When Daphne woke, she found herself staring at a steel bulkhead. She looked around and saw she was in a small, metal-walled room, lying on her back, strapped down to a table. The slug glue was gone. Probably they had an enzyme solution that made it disintegrate. But she was still unable to move, arms clamped at her sides, legs clamped down. Her head was banging from the blow Skerm had given her.

She tried struggling with her bonds. All she got for her effort was a cruel surge of pain in her head.

The oblong gray metal door creaked and swung open, and a man dressed in a tight, florid red and yellow suit stepped in. His hair was twisted over his head into a flame-shaped coif; his cheeks were red, his eyebrows arching. “I am Fluron,” he said silkily. “And you are my prisoner—as I’ve been made head of the new breeding program.”

“Oh, hurray!” said Daphne, snarkily. “So you want me for breeding? Well, I think I have a concussion, so I might die from a blood clot. Hence you’d better give me a med hypo so I can recover. You don’t want to waste breeding stock.”

His eyebrows elevated so high they almost lofted over his forehead. “Ha! You’re a cunning little creature! We’ve done a facial scan on you, Daphne Kuller. We know who you are. I
hear you’re quite dangerous, so I hesitate to fully restore you to health.”

“Sure, I’ll be very, very dangerous, surrounded by countless thugs, unarmed, and strapped to a table. Amazing how cowardly men can be sometimes.”

He chuckled. “Very well. You’ve earned a little comfort by giving me amusement.”

He reached into a pocket, took out a Dr. Zed hypo, and shot it into her neck.

Strength came to her limbs, and the headache ebbed away. “Thanks, Fluron. So—you like working for this Reamus? I hear he’s a . . . ballbuster.”

“I wouldn’t say that. But he’s terribly demanding. I need a med hypo myself, after an evening with him. One of these days he . . .” He shook his head, turning away.

“Why don’t you quit him?” she asked.

Fluron hesitated, then turned back to her. “Oh, the great brute—” He glanced nervously at the door. “The great man, I mean, Reamus . . . is very . . . ah, possessive. And if he doesn’t have a use for something . . . he kills it. So one must feel useful around here, if one wants to live.”

“I’ve heard Handsome Jack’s the same way. They have some kind of association?”

“Well, yes, they—but why am I talking to you?” He shook his head in amused exasperation. “You’re my prisoner.”

“I just wanted you to know, I can get you safely off planet. If you stick with me, Fluron.”

“Shh!” He looked at the door. “Just accept your fate. There’s nothing I can do.”

And Fluron hurried out.

She sighed and tried her bonds. They were some kind of
strong synthetic material. She couldn’t break them, but she might be able to stretch them, just enough, if she kept at it. It was something to keep her occupied. Better than thinking about her situation. Strapped down inside something called the Crusher, surrounded by enemies. And no way to get in touch with Mordecai.

Really, chances were, Mordecai was dead. Reamer had probably killed him.

•  •  •

Daphne was dead. Mordecai was sure of that. But one thing he could make certain of.

He could see to it that she would be avenged. Fury was simmering in him—fury at himself, and at Reamus for killing her, and that fury only needed a target.

Mordecai’s target was directly in front of him. Trouble was, it was impregnable.

It was getting dark out and now and then a little snow straggled down from the charcoal-colored sky, but the land battleship was easy to see.

The gigantic land-going vessel was parked in the midst of the tundra that stretched endlessly beyond the ice-flecked hills. It was motionless except for the shifting of spotlights on its deck, scanning the sky and the plains for enemies, and the movement of crew and sentries on its decks.

Mordecai and Brick had hidden the outrunner on the darker side of the hill, out of sight of the huge armored vehicle about an eighth of a kilometer away. Now they were flattened on the cold hilltop, Mordecai and Bloodwing both shivering, while Brick seemed forever unaffected by the cold.

All three of them were assessing the vehicle. “Looks
like they’re taking on supplies, over there on that southeastern side,” Mordecai said. “They’re lifting something up in a net.”

“Scouts going out, too.”

“They must be preparing to hit another target.”

“Maybe Sanctuary.”

“Don’t see how. They couldn’t get that thing up onto that mountain. Couldn’t fit through the canyons. It’s designed to hit towns out in the open, like Fyrestone and Bloodrust Corners. That’s where it’ll go—places like that. He’ll probably demand they bring him all their loot and slaves, or he’ll destroy the town. Hard to imagine anyone putting up much resistance after seeing that thing.”

“Good place to hole up, too, if an enemy’s looking for you.”

“And Handsome Jack’s gonna send Reamus out to stomp on anyone who stands up to him . . . long as the damn thing can get to them. Even if it can’t, it makes a great troop transport to get an army close to its target. Then he lowers some kinda ramp and they all tramp out and . . .”

“They could go after Sanctuary that way.”

“Yeah. They could. I’ll have to warn Roland. If I have to. Only I’ve got an idea how I might be able to stop that thing.”

Brick looked at him with something that almost resembled incredulity. “Really? You?”

“Yeah. What, you think I’m gonna go after it head-on, with a crowbar or something? No. I’m gonna set up a trap for it. Maybe. Depends on . . .”

“Oh Mordecaiiiiiii!” came a piping voice, behind them.

Mordecai groaned, and slipped down the hillside a ways, turning to see . . . just what he was afraid he’d see. Extra the Claptrap was leaning forward as it trundled slowly up the
steep rocky hill toward him, its wheels occasionally slipping on patches of ice.

“Whoa there, robot!” Mordecai hissed. “Keep your voice down and keep away from me!”

“I’m here to help you! Don’t worry! I’m safe now! I won’t blow up! Hardly at all!”

“What do you mean ‘hardly at all’?”

“Did I say that? I mean I won’t explode at all! Probably.”

“Don’t get any closer! You’re probably already close enough to kill me if she detonates you!”

The robot stopped partway up the steep hill. “I’ve definitely, almost certainly, cut off her access to the detonation program! I’ve stopped the countdown! No one can detonate me but me! And why would I want to detonate me? Would you want to detonate you? I hardly think so.”

“Just don’t get any closer!”

“I have my rocket launcher here. I could blow the thing up,” Brick suggested.

“That might set off the bomb in it. And from what I can tell that bomb is powerful!” Mordecai tugged in irritation on his beard as Bloodwing squawked in irritation on his shoulder.

“I can be helpful!” Extra called. “I have some information about the vehicle you’re following!”

Mordecai slid down a little closer to it, so he could hear the robot better. “What information? How’d you get it?”

“I’ve been monitoring its transmissions! They’ve been talking to that space station in the sky, there—they’ve been getting topographical data from it! Planning its movements!”

“Where are they going?”

“They’re resupplying for a couple of days, and then they’re
heading toward Fyrestone . . . and a series of other settlements after that one!”

“A couple of days . . . might be enough if that thing is going the way I think it’s going . . .”

“They call the vessel the Crusher! It’s going to crush anyone who might resist Handsome Jack and Reamus!”

“Yeah? We’ll see about that. Hey—you can detonate yourself, right? How about if you do me a big favor, and go down there to the Crusher and detonate yourself underneath it? You could at least wreck a couple of its treads.”

“That is actually
not
an appealing idea. While I’m committed to obeying you within certain parameters, I’m afraid I must decline.”

“Well then—stay out of my way.”

“Did I not give you useful information?”

“Sure. You were useful. But I don’t trust that psychotic program mixed in with your circuits.”

“I’ve got her under control, honest!”

“Just—stay a good long distance from me, okay?” Mordecai turned and crept back up to Brick. “You hear all that?”

“Yeah. We have a couple days. Maybe we can get aboard and just kill everyone we find.”

“The idea has the virtue of simplicity, like so many of your ideas, Brick, but we’d be crazy outnumbered and besides, I saw some SlagSlugs on the damn thing’s deck. One mistake with those things and you’re screwed. Plus, just getting close to the Crusher—that thing’s got weapons pointing out in pretty much any direction. We’d be blown up before we got close. But if we can cripple it, damage it, we can find a way to get closer with some hope of not getting our asses shot off. I figure we need some allies. Specialized allies. The allies I
have in mind are . . . you’re gonna have a hard time believing we can work with ’em. But I figure this fight’s in their interest, too. Problem’s going to be convincing them of that before they decide they’d rather kill us.”

Mordecai turned and looked down the hill, made sure that the Claptrap was nowhere near. The sad little robot was a fair distance off, now, skidding down the icy hill toward its outrider.

He shook his head, watching Extra go, almost feeling sorry for it.

Come on, robots don’t have feelings . . .

“Let’s go, Brick,” Mordecai said. “We have a battleship to take down.”

“I
’m an idiot,” Daphne said, mostly just to hear her voice echo in the steel-walled room. She was alone in the small space, feeling like she was sealed into a coffin. The room was even coffin-shaped. And she needed to pee.

But she did feel like an idiot. First she’d gone off half-cocked out of her home, chasing Mordecai, and not paying attention to anything else. Or she might’ve spotted those Buzzards, and the outriders. Ended up in Jasper’s “custody.” Now she had stumbled into Reamus, and she was his prisoner.

“Did I miss anybody?” she asked herself, aloud. “Anybody else want to take me prisoner?” She was half hoping that someone would hear her talking, and at least come in to talk to her.

Try shouting, then.

“Hey! Fluron! Reamus! Somebody out there! Come in here and deal with me!”

She waited. There was no response. There were sounds of footsteps from somewhere overhead; there were clattering
machine noises, and winch squeaks from time to time. Nothing more.

“I’m an idiot,” she told herself again.

Okay, to be fair, she’d been dazed and exhausted, after leaving Gunsight. She hadn’t been able to find an intact vehicle. She’d wandered on foot, looking for a place to pick up an outrunner. Maybe an ECHO to try calling Mordecai. Nothing but the gigantic tracks of the monstrous machine that had destroyed Gunsight, and the occasional pile of useless wreckage where it had run over something.