Mistrunner 3 - Chapter 13 - To the Victor (Patreon)

For the longest time, I didn’t think happiness was really possible. With what was coming, everything looked so bleak. But then I saw that Nova City wasn’t really representative of the entire world. Sure, there were other places like it. Most of the biggest cities in the world were under the aliens’ thumbs. But a different kind of life was possible. Of course, I knew it was all going to end soon enough, but at least it gave me some hope.

Patrick Ward

As the train slowed to a stop, Rex and I swept through each car with practiced ease. I knew he wouldn’t have had as much success without me, but he seemed reasonably capable so long as he didn’t encounter overwhelming odds. For those instances, I was there, and I’d already established that the drones and combat bots that constituted the bulk of the train’s security were completely incapable of stopping me. And as we progressed through one car after another, no new threats presented themselves to disprove that assumption.

At the halfway mark, we ran into Avery. About a hundred cars later, we picked up Huascar. And finally, after traveling the length of the miles-long train, we found Isaac and Askar in the control room. Bodies littered the floor of the car, ignored and seemingly forgotten.

“I hope these were bad guys,” I said through the Secure Connection.

Patrick responded, “Me, too. Body count’s at about three dozen.”

I didn’t mind killing people. I’d done it often enough that, even when it was someone undeserving, it wouldn’t keep me up at night. No more than all the other innocent lives that could be laid at my feet, at least. What were a few more to add to the total, after all? I was already a mass murderer, and even if I suddenly changed my ways, it wouldn’t change the things I’d already done.

I didn’t consider myself a villain. Not really. But I was self-aware enough to recognize that I wasn’t a hero, either. And besides, there was a part of the world that very much disagreed with my own self-assessment. Back in the region surrounding the ruins of Nova City, the population definitely wasn’t going to be throwing me any parades. Part of that was my fault – after all, I had done what I’d done, and there was no taking it back – but the aliens had also made sure that everyone knew just who was ultimately responsible for Nova’s fall.

That was why I had no intentions of ever going back.

Still, even if I had come to terms with my nature as a killer, that didn’t mean I wanted to engage in the wanton murder of innocents. I might’ve been a bit of a villain, but I wasn’t evil.

“Who owns this train, anyway?” I asked aloud, directing the question toward Askar, who was busy fiddling with a security terminal. Paulo hovered nearby, clearly having facilitated the alien’s access.  It had taken a few seconds for me to even notice him, which, given his bulk, was quite surprising.

“Nobody important,” he replied without looking up. “We’re not taking much anyway, so they probably won’t care enough to come after us.”

Probably. That sounded far too uncertain for my taste, but I’d known the plan going in. And as much as I hated leaving an enemy at my back, it wasn’t unreasonable to suspect that whoever owned the train would be incapable of finding us. The world was a big place, after all, and we’d taken great pains not to leave any witnesses. With the communications having been jammed, they’d have no way of knowing who to even pursue.

Besides, the Leviathan gave us the advantage of mobility. In a day or so, we could be halfway around the world, enjoying some tropical beach. There were plenty of ways for people to get around, but few people on Earth had the kind of capability afforded by the Leviathan.. I wondered how Askar and the rest of his crew intended to avoid pursuit.

Not that it mattered. That wasn’t our problem. Patrick and I would do our jobs, reap the rewards, and get out. Every other detail represented pointless complications that were beneath our concern. Askar had been on the planet for almost a century, so it was reasonable to assume he knew how to take care of himself, so even if I could bother myself to worry over his and his crew’s safety, it didn’t seem necessary.

Without responding to Askar, I stepped up to a different terminal, retrieved the cord of my personal link from the Hand of God, and jacked in. Paulo said something that I ignored as I tore through the flimsy defenses in only seconds. Once I was in the system, I turned my head to him and said, “Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing.”

He sputtered some sort of objection, but by that point, I’d already dismissed him as completely useless. For the group, he was probably necessary, but to me, he was just redundant. I dove into the system, searching for the cargo manifest. On my way through the train, I’d passed one car after another, all filled with crates of various sizes, and it only took a cursory search through the manifest to learn that most of them contained foodstuffs. Or medicine, which was valuable enough in the right hands. I had no interest in going through the hassle of fencing it, though. After a couple of minutes, I chanced upon a listing that interested me.

Through the Secure Connection, I said, “Car two-hundred-and-twelve. Refined metals. Listed as high priority in the manifest.”

“Oh, that sounds interesting,” Patrick replied. “Do you think it’s gold or silver?”

“I literally have no idea, Pick,” I answered. “I’m looking at a single line on an inventory list.”

“Don’t you want to guess?”

“Not really.”

He huffed and said, “You’re no fun. I think it’s gold. You remember that guy in the mountains? The one that had the huge collection of gold bars?”

“Edgar.”

“Yeah. Him. I bet he’d buy it,” Patrick said. “How much is there?”

“Seventeen crates, so probably a ton. Maybe a little more,” I said. “What do you think he intends to do with all that gold, anyway? It’s practically useless.”

“It’s a good conductor that doesn’t degrade,” Patrick remarked. “Some cybernetic engineers use it for wiring and circuitry.”

“I bet he just likes looking at it,” I said. “You saw it in his eyes, didn’t you? Wasn’t gold, like, super valuable back in the old world? They used it for money, didn’t they?”

“Some places still do,” Patrick pointed out. “And it is kind of pretty. People love using it for jewelry.”

I sighed. I liked pretty things as much as the next girl, but gold had never really done it for me. It was one reason I’d insisted on repainting the Leviathan so many times. Sure, the original black-and-gold design had a certain regality to it – as did the Hand of God beneath the faux flesh that covered my arm – but it really wasn’t my style. “Takes all kinds, I suppose,” I said. Some people did go crazy for the shiny metal, and who was I to judge them for it? They had the right to like the things they liked.

“No point in speculation, though. We’ll find out soon enough,” I added.

Patrick voiced his agreement, and I continued searching through the manifest for likely fodder for my larcenous tendencies. I found a couple of stores of high-quality food, spirits, and some medical gear that I felt would prove useful, and I marked what needed to be marked. As I scoured the inventory list, Askar and Paulo presumably did the same as the train gradually slowed to a stop. It had been going more than two-hundred miles per hour, so it took quite a while for all that momentum to dissipate. When it finally coasted to a stop, Patrick said, “Meet you at the first car on the list.”

“How long?” I asked aloud, glancing at Askar.

“Moving out in an hour,” he answered without looking up. Instead, he continued to stare at the security terminal’s tiny screen, presumably poring over the inventory just as I had.

The goods in the train were first come, first serve, according to our agreement. His support personnel – people I’d never even met – should have been arriving any second with cargo trucks, but they weren’t of interest to me. Patrick and I had our own transport, and the Leviathanwas more than capable of carrying whatever we chose to steal.

With thievery on my mind, I left the control hub behind and climbed a ladder between cars. Once I was atop the train, I beheld the damage we – well, mostly I – had caused. The cars were pitted with gunshot holes, and more than a few cars were still smoking from the explosions I’d affected.

Clearly, Patrick was thinking the same thing, and his voice came over my interface, saying, “You really did a number on this train, Mira. I thought you were going to try to keep the collateral damage to a minimum.”

I looked up as the Leviathan flew overhead, settling in at the first car I’d marked as a target. It contained a shipment of high-grade med-hypos that, given my penchant for injury, could always come in handy. “Yeah, well – nobody told me there would be high-grade combat bots, either,” I replied.

“That was a bit of a nasty surprise,” he agreed. “You should’ve seen the fliers.”

“You didn’t mess up my ship, did you?”

“Our ship. And no. The Mist shields held. It was close, though. And it probably cost us more than we’ll make off this train heist.”

“Then those circuits you want better be worth all the trouble,” I said.

With that, I jogged forward. Calling it that was a bit of a mischaracterization because, with my Constitution attribute enhancing my body, I could trot faster than most people could sprint. And if I really went all out? I could give some hovercars a run for their money. Still, I kept my pace measured – for me – and I quickly found the appropriate car. It helped that Patrick had piloted the Leviathan to hover directly over it, with the cargo bay’s ramp extending to within a foot of the car’s roof.

“Show off,” I muttered with a slight grin. He really was an exceptional pilot, and he was familiar enough with the big ship to bring all of his skill to bear. In anyone else’s hands, the Leviathanwould’ve been a lumbering beast of a ship, but in Patrick’s, she was as light and nimble as a wasp.

Over the next twenty minutes, I raced down the length of the train, loading the goods I’d marked for procurement into the Leviathan’s spacious hold. There were medical supplies, crates of fresh fruit, and more than a little alcohol that I hoped would fetch a bundle of credits. I passed over the few cars holding weapons and ammunition. None of it would be all that useful for me or Patrick – we used better quality stuff – and, pound for pound, it just wasn’t as valuable as some of the other goods I’d found.

Eventually, I reached the final car on my list and descended into the interior. Like all the other cars, it was entirely dark, but with Observation on my side, that wasn’t much of a detriment for me. I could see clearly with only scant illumination, and where my eyes failed, my other senses could easily pick up the slack.

Soon enough, I found the right group of crates. There were only eleven of them, all stacked neatly against the wall. The boxes were about three feet tall and twice as wide, and when I opened one, I let out a sigh, saying, “Well, it’s not gold.”

“What is it?”

“If I’m reading this right, it’s called Carbonatium. Mostly, it’s in black bricks that…well, they look really dull. Like, they absorb rather than reflect light,” I said. “But I’m mostly in the dark here, so that might be an optical illusion.”

“It’s…it’s not.”

“What? You’ve heard of this stuff?” I asked.

“I have. How much is there?”

“Uh…one sec,” I said, reaching out to pick up one of the bars. When I tried to lift it, I got a bit of a surprise. The ingot was only about eight inches long, five inches wide, and about as deep, but it must’ve weighed a hundred pounds. Maybe more. “If each crate’s the same…maybe two-thousand pounds?”

“I think I know why the security was so tight, then.”

“This stuff?” I asked, hefting one of the bars. Now that I was prepared for the weight, it wasn’t difficult to lift, but the density was definitely noteworthy. “What’s it for? Where’d it come from? And why do you think –”

“That little cache of ingots is probably worth more than everything else in this train combined,” Patrick stated, and he did so with enough confidence that I could tell he’d had some dealings with the metal. “And that’s if you could find someone willing to sell it. It’s not just useful. It’s rare, too. You need to get that loaded as quickly as possible.”

“But –”

“No more talk, Mira. Seriously. Not even over the Secure Connection. Wait until we’re in the ship and you’ve got Bastion running, okay?” he breathed, his voice quivering slightly. “Wars are fought over that stuff. The implications of finding it here…just…let’s just hurry, Mira.”

Patrick didn’t really get spooked very easily, so I had no issues with trusting his judgement. Following his instructions, I hefted the first crate and, with a grunt, threw it over my shoulder. It didn’t really challenge my strength, but the box was awkward enough to make getting it out of the train and into the Leviathan more than a little annoying. Still, I managed it well enough and quickly made the requisite trips to collect the other crates. By the time I was finished, my allowance of time had elapsed, and Askar’s voice crackled over the communication channel reserved for the crew. “Time’s up,” he said. “Everyone to your positions.”

Fortunately, my position was in the Leviathan’scargo bay. Unfortunately, that was also true for everyone but Isaac, who was tasked with piloting the train to its destination. I climbed into the ship, then cast a glance at our surroundings. The trucks carrying whatever Askar and the rest of the crew had stolen were already speeding away, presumably to some sort of hidden location.

After confirming that I was onboard, Patrick maneuvered the ship back to the front of the train, where the others all boarded. Once they were loaded up, the train resumed its journey down the tracks with the Leviathan following from far above.

“Get what you were looking for?” asked Askar, glancing at the pile of crates. I’d taken a few extra moments to position the boxes containing the Carbonatium behind the medical supplies, but I was well aware of just how poor of a hiding place it was. Still, there hadn’t been enough time to do anything else, so I had no choice but to accept things the way they were.

“Mostly medical supplies and booze,” I said, nonchalantly flipping my hair out of my eyes. It was just long enough that it was becoming annoyingly difficult to wrangle. Perhaps I needed a haircut. Or maybe a different style. “You?”

“Mostly food,” he admitted. “My people need to eat.”

I didn’t know if he meant the crew, his support personnel, or a group I’d never met, but it didn’t really matter to me. He could be supporting an entire town of innocents, for all I cared. It wouldn’t affect my choices.

As our brief conversation lapsed, I glanced at the rest of the crew. They were all giddy with relief after the first stage of the heist had gone so well. They seemed to have no idea just how screwed they would’ve been if I hadn’t been around. None of them – save for maybe Askar, whose capabilities were still an unknown – would’ve been able to handle those combat bots I’d destroyed with the Dragon.

Askar probably knew. I think Rex did too, judging by the way he kept looking at me with a curious mixture of awe, respect, and resentment. Of course, the others kept glancing in my direction as well, but they hadn’t seen what the cowboy had seen. So, they almost assuredly underestimated me.

Which was more than fine by me.

Others had fallen into that trap, and most of them were now dead.

Over the next hour, the train slowly made its way into position. On the surface, it looked like an unimportant stretch of desert, save for a barely visible bit of road that crossed the tracks. That was the route the Dengyts would take, according to Askar. So, the plan was to simply block the road, then hit them hard, take what we needed, and get out.

“This is your stop,” Patrick said over the Secure Connection. I could hear the anxiety in his voice. He had plenty of confidence in me, but he wasn’t immune to worry.

“Think of it,” I said through my interface. “This time tomorrow, we’ll be back on a beach somewhere, kicking back while I drink more of your…uh…interesting concoctions.”

“You said you liked it!”

“I say a lot of things Pick.”

Before he could respond, Askar stood and said, “It’s time. Everyone knows their jobs, so don’t screw it up, and we’ll be fine.”

“Inspiring,” I muttered. He cut his eyes at me with a murderous glare. I didn’t even flinch. If he wanted to escalate things between us, I was more than willing. Besides, I knew he wouldn’t make his move until after the job was done. I just hoped I’d be ready when the time came.