He hadn’t realized that the autocannon also came with a backpack. Eli should have known that it wouldn’t be just and autocannon. The same way that he hadn’t ended up with just a crew. He had the laborers to avoid having to set-up his own camp, but he also had an amputee, a Burnout survivor, a suicidal, a Guild-recognized chemist, and a quippy rapist along for the ride. People were always more than what he needed them to be; they brought along all of the vices and obsessions that propelled them… this much social philosophy so early in the morning. At this rate he would have a new thesis by lunchtime. But that would have to wait for when this was over and he was given his four-week “vacation” between assignments. Eli sighed and focused his intellect onto more practical matters. 

The backpack hadn’t been a consideration. His plan for bringing D.Q. on the expedition, besides trying to alleviate Cone’s well-justified fears, was that her gun would be up for grabs if anything happened to her. In the best case scenario, she would trust his expertise and stay on his side as she had when they had first met. But if they couldn’t see eye-to-eye, or something happened to her, all he would have to do was pick up her weapon and have indisputable power. He had learned to install fail-safes like this when he composed expedition teams. If his title as a Formers wouldn’t convince people to do his bidding, than the threat of bullets would have to do. Normally, he asked someone to carry a hidden weapon of their own in case things got “out of hand,” and then it was a matter of claiming the implement for himself if he had to. 

As he studied the device that the “security officer” had equipped, Eli saw that taking it for himself wouldn’t be as simple as he had anticipated. Trailing from the backpack, and feeding into the autocannon, was a belt of ammunition with some kind of tubing alongside it. He didn’t see any kind of drum or storage unit on the weapon itself: meaning that the only way that someone would be able to fire it continuously, was if they had the backpack with them. And there was no way he would be able to take the backpack off of her if she was still alive. Killing someone as heavily-armed as D.Q. would be no easy task. He’d have to take her by surprise, that was for certain. Then he would have to equip that 60-ish pound backpack. All without drawing too much attention. 

Alternatively, he could make sure that D.Q. wouldn’t turn against him under any circumstances. However, the only real loyalty that she had was to the rest of her squad, back on the Rusted Horizon. Eli also knew from experience that the promise of wealth and other hypothetical bribes almost never worked. The only other person that she might want to have sex with had just lost his sex organs. He needed to stop thinking about sex. But even if he was certain that no one else on the crew would be able to make her side with them, there was still the Singing Road itself. He would be a fucking moron to assume that it wasn’t already working on her. Most of the crew was already sleep-deprived and irritable from nightmares and other events. Soon they might start experiencing the more exotic symptoms from this phenomena, including manic episodes. She had also seen those visions after making eye-contact with that “thing” last night, how much longer until she thought she saw creatures everywhere and opened fire? He still needed her weapon, in case someone else went crazy. But how could he make sure that she wouldn’t remain a liability herself? 

“Hiiiii!” D.Q. shouted from her post on the deck. Eli followed Varly up the ladder. The remaining crates had been dug out of the snow. There was nothing left to do here. Some of the crew looked at him fearfully as he went over to the pilot’s enclosure. 

“Are we ready to go?” Eli asked Pontius. Cone was also in the room, with Splint. 

“We figured that it’d be best to keep her out of the snow.” Cone said. Splint was staring at the floor. 

“Our fuel level’s good for another five hundred miles— where to, Eli?” Pontius asked. He hadn’t decided yet.

“Start moving, I’ll pick something.” Pontius grunted, and the Roller lurched out of its resting place. After the initial shudder, Eli felt safe to move around again.

“Do you still have that copy of the site-list I gave you?” He asked Cone. The merchant pointed to a folder on his bunk. Of course he had called the top one. As he fished for the map, Eli took note of how the enclosure was structured. He hadn’t thought about how the pilot was able to see the left side of his vehicle with the wheel and engine blocking his view. Pontius relied on a system of mirrors that clustered on the sides of his main window. Eli could even see a reflection of Pontius’ face from one of them. This was a smaller version of the system he had seen in the control-room for Rusted Horizon. Had that crew started taking bets on whether his expedition would return? The enclosure also had a small window at the back of it.

“Hey Pontius?” The driver grunted again.

“You know how we slid those plates under the wheel so we could back it out of the snow?”

“Worked like a charm, what about it?”

“How many times did you try to get plates under?”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Did you try it once, not like it, and then move locations to try again?”

“No?” Pontius said, confused.

“Well I’m seeing two protrusions behind us.”

“Isn’t it just the town?” Cone asked.

“They’re both to the left of the town.” Eli said. Pontius made an “L” with his hand to orient himself.

“Give him the scope.” He ordered Cone. The merchant grabbed a pair of binoculars from a pouch in the back of Pontius’s chair and tossed them to Eli. They were vintage. The nearly 38 year old plastic was rubbing off in his hands, but the glass parts worked just fine. 

“We have a tail.” Eli said when he saw that one of the objects was kicking up snow and moving towards them. 

“Can we outrun them?” Cone asked. He definitely would have said something else if there was a sail above their follower.

“Turn around, I want a closer look.” Eli said. Cone shifted his wheel, and the Roller listed a bit to the left as it started turning. 

“Who do you think this jackass is?” Pontius asked as Eli stood behind him to watch out of his window. It was bad out there. Everyone on the crew was huddled into one cluster. They were definitely used to these conditions in their normal work, when the only interior space was reserved for valuable cargo. He would open his room to them again if the snow did—

An orange flash shot across the deck and out ahead of them, followed by another, and another. Splint shuddered at the blasts. 

“Good morning Carson!” D.Q. screeched from above them. She was on the roof, shooting at the other vehicle.

“Carson?” Pontius asked.

“The town we were just at.” Eli said as he left the enclosure.

“The fuck are you doing?!” He asked the gunner.

“Why else would you have us turn around?” She asked. By now the shooting had stopped, and it looked like the over vehicle had been turned over. Eli held up a fist in front of the pilot’s enclosure. Hopefully Pontius understood that. He was shaking his head.

“Stop!” Eli shouted at him.

“Can’t! We’ll sink with this much snow!” He shouted back. 

“Then slow down and circle the wreck!” Eli ordered as he made for the railing. They were going 20-30 miles and hour, and Pontius could probably take them down to 10 once he started circling. This wouldn’t be the fastest moving vehicle that he had jumped out of, and the crew didn’t look like they would be pushing him out either. 

“Hey Beefcake! Care to join me?” He shouted to the bundled figure that was sitting by himself. 

“Do I have a choice?” He asked. 

“No. You don’t.” Eli said. There had been a prisoner on one of his previous missions. The man’s only crime had been hoarding food, during a famine where a third of his clan had died, and he had been treated like a pack animal. Beefcake stood up and walked to Eli’s side. Him and D.Q. were the only people that he was really worried about. Even without his cock, Beefcake stood five inches taller than Eli, and that much more likely to beat him in a fight. At least Warra… Where was she? 

With 200 feet left between the Roller’s plow and the wreck, Pontius turned and started circling counter-clock wise. Eli and Beefcake walked over to the left side and began climbing down the ladder. Beefcake knew his place, below Eli. Rather than looking down at the blur of slow and the rapist below him, he gazed up at the sky. Through all of the descending snow, he saw a mass of clouds: undecided and gray. Two dark barrels pushed into his view. 

“You want me to come down with you boys?” D.Q. asked. If she stood a bit closer, he would have a great view of her legs and… he really needed to stop with this.

“Stay on the deck. We need an overwatch.” He said. 

Beefcake leapt off the ladder and into the snow. He saw the big man rolling onto his side after he landed safely. Eli took a deep breath and pushed himself off of the ladder. The Roller sped past him and the snow greeted him like a soft mattress. Oh yes… This would be a very comfortable way to die, just lying here and letting go. He sat up and forced himself to stand. By now, the Roller was on the other side of the wreck. Beefcake was a hundred or so feet from him. Together, they advanced to the overturned vehicle.

“Wreck” was a strong word for what lay in front of them. D.Q. hadn’t even hit the thing with her gun; the driver must have swerved to crash it. One of the skids was in the air. There was a metal tread near the end of it. But that wasn’t the whole vehicle, no. Behind the main car was a small baggage train. Each component sled was large enough to hold a few crates or whatever was in the large fabric bags on each of them. 

“See if you can get it in working order.” Eli said to his companion. Beefcake lumbered over to the vehicle’s side. 

“And don’t get any ideas!” He added for good measure.

“I had mine, and it cost me too damn much.” Beefcake grumbled. Behind him, the Roller passed again. From this distance, he had a real appreciation for the vessel’s size and speed. He felt like him, Beefcake, and the wreck were little bits of prey that the Roller was circling. He walked on the opposite side of the wreck, where the top of the vehicle faced him. It reminded him of a reversed dog-sled. The driver had a console that they operated while standing, similar to what the person who steered and whipped the dogs on a sled would have. In this case, the “dogs” were lined up behind the slide. And instead of hungry animals, this sled ran off of whatever motor powered its tread. That design was very close to a Pre-Burnout snowmobile. So was it a snowmobile, or a sled? 

Eli noticed the driver splayed out on the ground a few feet from the wreck. Their forearm bone was poking out from their jacket sleeve. They had probably stuck it out to break their fall. And the other arm was under them. There was still breath steaming out of the snow. He squatted a few feet from them and thought. That arm, which was under their body, could be dislocated from its socket, or clutching a gun that they’d draw as soon as Eli came close enough. He’d already tried to make one wounded and non-gendered visitor talk. This one wouldn’t be likely to tell him anything new. He stuck out his arm and waved it above him as the Roller passed in front of him. Once he was sure that he had D.Q.’s attention, he lowered the arm and shot the driver with a finger gun. Moments later, their central mass was partially liquified.

In that same instant, Beefcake flipped the sled back onto its normal position. Once the breathing stopped and only the hole was steaming, Eli approached. Gently, he rolled to body over with the tip of his boot. Just as he had suspected, their good arm was clutching a handle. He pried the weapon from their belt. Apart from the grip and whatever adhesive kept the bone in the socket, the hatchet was made entirely from a human’s hip and upper leg bones. 

“That’s a Reaper weapon.” Beefcake said, pointing at the hatchet. 

Eli’s attention went to the baggage train and what its contents might be. He was about to open one of the bags for himself, when he saw Beefcake across from him.

“They took my weapons and tools.” The big man said.

“I got to do everything myself…” Eli complained, half sarcastically, as he cut the pouch open. Inside was the bloodied mouth of the last pilot they had encountered.

“Let me guess.” Eli said as he moved down the line to the next bag. 

“That’s Center-brace.” Then the next one.

“There was talk on Rusted Horizon about how this visiting maintenance crew had to draw lots on who would turn an emergency release valve…” He cut a slit into the bag and peeked at the boiled flesh it contained.

“…To shunt off an unfortunate build-up of steam from the reactor.” Eli finished.

“Dreadnoughts are a dirty business.” Beefcake said to himself. Eli was also saying most of his comments and deduction to himself. 

“And we have a really shitty crew.” Eli said as he spotted Warra running towards them, from the side of the town.

“Sorry we left you! There was a bit of a situation!… And I’m sorry about yesterday!” He shouted. Their guide didn’t say anything in response when she arrived.

“Her name was ‘Prairie-Sun’… she collected for this region.” Warra said about the body lying by them.

“And was she coming to “collect” us? I know the game you’re playing.” Beefcake said. The rest of the crew might come up with a similar narrative, if someone told them. 

Eli cut a square of fabric from the boiled-man’s bag. He had no immediate use for Warra, and he knew for a fact that she couldn’t read. Otherwise, their map would have points of interest that were denoted by something other than shapes. What to write? The Roller passed yet again. If anyone had doubts before, they had been dispelled by D.Q.’s performance this morning. It was a fact that she was the most dangerous person on the team, and thus the best chance of survival for anyone she was with. He could order her to join him, but that wouldn’t go over well if he denied the crew their security officer. How to make up for that? Beefcake would be useful in his own way… he had these bodies, and a usable sled. 

“What was the fuel level on this?” He asked. 

“Pretty high.” Beefcake said.

“200 miles high?” 

“If you drop a lot of weight, maybe.” 

“Oh, I intend to drop weight.” Eli said. Just not know. He pulled out a pencil. He wasn’t sure if ink could freeze, so he wasn’t taking any chances with his pens. The fabric made for hard writing, but he managed to produce what he needed. He signed it to be sure that there wouldn’t be anymore confusion than what he intended.

“Alright Warra.” He said as he handed her the letter.

“You need to take this back to the Roller, as soon as you get up there, you need to say ‘I have a letter for Cone!’ and don’t give it to anyone but Cone. You got that?” Warra nodded.

“Great, go give it to him.” She started running.

“And Warra!” Eli called after her. The adult feral turned around. Her purple scarf was flapping in the wind. 

“Tell your friends that I’m coming!” He shouted.

She climbed aboard and Eli watched the Roller circle five more times before D.Q. jumped off, and the crew threw a bag and one of her fuel tanks after her.

“Is it true her people drink that before battle?” Beefcake asked about the keg of methanol she carried. Eli could see the “flammable” warning label from where he stood.

“Her people were fisher-folk. But yes, Regime troops do drink that stuff before battle. Just a little, too much and you go blind.” He said.

D.Q. tossed the keg to Beefcake, who secured it to the sled while she took a drink from her canteen.

“Don’t worry… it’s water… I want to drive there.” She gasped in between swallows. Her autocannon dangled from a clip on her backpack, while she dragged the other bag behind her. 

“Can I ask where we are going?” Beefcake asked when he had the sled’s engine running. He had done all of this without being asked. He was good at being servile when he had to.

“The Singing Road.” D.Q. said as she shoved past him and onto the driver’s console. She tossed the bag onto the space in front of her. 

The sled began to move. Eli sat on the nearest baggage car, next to the remains of the Blue-Rip that Cone had wanted dead.

“What do you want with me there?” Beefcake asked. 

The Roller made one last circle before breaking off and heading South. Eli watched the vessel for a moment before turning back to Beefcake, who was still expecting an answer.

“We need you for the blood-sacrifice.” He joked.