The vehicles were parked beneath city hall.

Up above, dawn was almost breaking, the sun a glow in the east as the last stars faded in the west.

There was a short delay as a couple of techs from city engineering ran a power lead down the trailer to the rear fighting position to where Trask was stationed in order to trickle-charge the Wolverine's battery from the truck's alternator.

Both the rear and forward fighting stations on the trailer were good protection for 2 people and a weapon on a pintle with gunshields. They were made from sandbags and reinforced with barbed wire and spikes to discourage boarding. They were practically invulnerable to small arms fire. The rear position was armed with an M2HB and also had a wooden box with some Molotov cocktails made from Spook Juice to throw down on close enemies. Front position had a 7.62mm M260 SAW.

As the techs finished, the door to the elevator lobby from the surface opened. Through it walked Fred, the librarian. With him was Brother Edgar, an old member of the Posse! He had been tied up in the summit as the original delegate was killed. But now his role in the negotiations on behalf of Joan and the Church of the Holy Atom, Reformed was complete and he could rejoin the Posse for the next phase.

Smoker was in his element, fussing around the truck ensuring everything was in top-notch condition.

He looked up to see Fred the Librarian and Brother Edgar, and waved to them.

Deep in thought when the elevators doors opened Brother Edgar’s exhaustion was evident in the rings around his eyes and the slump of his shoulders. The Summit had taken far too long mostly due to a handful of representatives more interested in their own gains then eliminating the Combine. There were times Edgar had thought about nuking the lot of them but it would cause more problems than it would fix. In the end the alliance was formed and now that he had finished his role there he could focus on personal goals.

Seeing the posse around the vehicles in the bay brought a smile to Edgars face, waving back to Nix Edgar moved to the closest pile of gear grabbed it and headed to the vehicles falling into the old routines he had formed with his posse.
This message was last edited by the player at 20:15, Wed 07 June 2017.

In reply to Brother Edgar (msg # 3):

Roadkill, the Trucker, nodded to the Joanite Doomsayer.

"Welcome back, buddy! Long time, no see." He'd last seen Brother Edgar back in Amarillo, in a little Oiler city-state that called itself the North Texas Republic.

"You can ride with me if you like. But maybe you should ride with Peter. He's only got Jane with him, manning the Ma-Deuce, and I've got Trask, Smoker and Crichton for gunners. What do you say?

"Everyone else seems to be mounted up."

Brother Edgar nodded to Roadkill, "Spreading our strength out sounds like a good plan." Edgar walked to the truck looking in through the passenger window at Peter, "Mind if I catch a ride?" Edgar waited for the young man to agree before mounting up smiling back at Jane, "It is good to be out of that gathering and doing real work again."

Trask climbed up into the position on the truck and checked his spacing between the suit and surrounding obstacles. He then remains motionless as he runs his diagnostics and changes all the targeting symbols in the system and then finally he runs a few scans of the surrounding area using his on board sensors.

It was a shame they were not able to make a run to the market before they left as should the M2 be disabled he only has his Ripper as back up.


-

Peter got out and gave a manly embrace to Brother Edgar, one arm around him clapping his back, the other gripping and shaking his hand. He stepped back a step and looked his old friend over. "It is good to see you alive and well. I am glad you are back with us." The ghost of a smile played on his lips. "And yes of course you are always welcome with us." He gestured towards the truck and then got back in to the driver's seat himself.

In the underground parking at city hall, the techs finished up with Roadkill's truck. They packed their tools and, with a wave to the drivers, walked back to their own vehicle. Trask's diagnostics checked out fine.

It was now 0645. The city above them was still asleep as dawn was breaking.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 8):

Roadkill stuck his head out the glass-less window of the Peterbilt and pulled the airhorn. The loud "WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" echoed through the large concrete chambler. He pointed at the exit ramp, then yelled out the window, "Peter, you take point! Let's get a move on! Yee-haa!"

Peter started slightly when Roadkill 'horned' the parking garage, wincing slightly. He shook his head with a small sigh, but didn't say anything. He then gave one last quick visual check to make sure everyone and everything in his truck was ready. Then he pulled smoothly out of his parking space and headed out in to the morning.

The 2-vehicle convoy roared up the ramp from the underground car park under city hall, bursting into the pre-dawn sunlight. Much of Junkyard was still in shadow under the Steel Sky and behind the Wasatch mountains but the sky above was getting brighter by the minute as dawn broke. They turned onto State st., which led to the southern gate and the one closest to their route south-southeast to Cortez, Colorado. The city streets were still empty, and the militia manning the checkpoint at the gate recognised them, waving them through without stopping.

Soon, they were on I-15 South as the sun peeked above the Wasatch Mountains.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 11):

Before they left, they made sure everyone's radios were on the same channel. Peter had a radio in his battlesuit helmet and a CB in his truck. Jane had a headset captured from the Combine, as did Crichton. Roadkill had a CB in his truck cab, Trask had a suit radio.

Over the CB came a call to everyone. "Breaker breaker. This is Roadkill, anyone got your ears on? Come on back.

"I suggest we high-ball it south through Provo, Moab, the Spanish Valley, then to Monticello. Usually, I'd take a right on US-191 there and go around Cortez. You see, there's a little problem. The colony at Cortez is called Near Cortez, and Near Cortez got taken over by the Combine about six months ago and is now a border outpost. There's about a company of Black Hats there, with Red Hat support, some Raptors and even urban pacification units. We don't want to tangle with them!

"However, our contact is code named "Jericho". Now, Jericho's been keeping tabs on the Combine in Near Cortez. We'll kind of loop around Near Cortez to the west and come up from the south, through the Ute Reservation. We can meet Jericho outside the south side of town and they can give us information on the Kargo jerkoff we're after."

 The technowiz kept his peace for a moment after the broadcast from Roadkill. He debated the plan and pronounced it sounds enough for now at least in his head he did. "Jericho? Well guess fine tuning this rifle will be a good thing."
 He proceeded to fiddle with the rifle realigning sights, cleaning the barrel, and the like.

Peter had taken the lead in the small 'convey' or 'caravan' in his smaller truck. He, of course, kept his CB radio running and didn't normally wear his helmet while driving unless he needed to. The helmet blocked some of his visual periphery, and made turning his head too far a challenge at times.

So he was able to hear Roadkill just fine. He took in the information and then pulled the mic to him and spoke back. "I read you, Roadkill, loud and clear. Steering clear of the Combine is almost always a good idea. We will follow the suggested route."

Once the radio was back in place and not on transmit any longer, he muttered to himself (though Brother Edgar was in the cab with him). "If I were a betting man, I would almost wager that in order to obtain the information we want will require some interaction with the Combine."

Trask had nothing to add to the conversation but acknowledged the radio message all the same as he kept watch over his assigned arcs. He would run the odd sensor sweep at points in the journey but for the most part relied on his eye balls for any updates.

-

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 14):

Jane heard what was said and shook her head at Peter.

"Hey everybody.  Just remember which EX Black hat is the good guy now ok?  Don't get too trigger happy."

She kept her eyes opened and her gun ready.

Edgar looked ahead watching the road and the surrounding area, the others seemed to have everything well in hand so enjoying the ride was all he needed to do.

Smoker settled down in his perch and, deciding stealth wasn't a priority when sitting on top of a large truck, rolled a cigarette and lit up.

 "Hey Smoker." he pauses "Can you fire a rifle accurately?" Chricton asks sheepishly.

 He offers the rifle he has been tinkering with for Smoker to inspect.

"Yes, if I have to," replied Smoker. He took the rifle cautiously, checking the load state before doing anything else.

  The load seems to be bullet shaped pieces of metal. No propellant. Normal junker tech is unfinished and haphazard looking this isn't. Matte black finish on top of clean fittings this almost looks like pre-Last War bleeding edge tech.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:25, Wed 21 June 2017.

After ensuring the weapon is safe, Smoker examines the power source.

"Interesting..."

 If you didn't know better the power source is 14 Double A batteries duct taped together with a little tank of what appears to be water. "Please don't open that tank. It would be a mess."

"OK. What's in there?" asked Smoker, his curiousity aroused.

"Umm that is the "slag" pool. Right now it is just water, but after each shot in theory the left over waste from the battery will go into the pool. Not exactly sure if that is it or if the metal shavings from the speed of the magnet will dump into that. Just have to fire it and see." he seems a little mad right then, but then again when don't Chamber Junkers seem nuts.

Smoker continues looking curiously at the weapon for a while, then hands it back.

"Looks... interesting. Where did you pick it up?"

 "I ahh built it. My colleagues needed proof of concept and my dedication to the cause. I have tested it at various stages and it worked just fine. This is the finished product though."

"Impressive. Fantastic workmanship...  How does it handle?" said Smoker.

Yeah, he could make things too, but they generally ended up looking hand-made even if they did work extremely well!

 "More or less as expected. The first few kicked like a mule, but I solved most of that by now. Still recoils but not nearly so bad. I just was looking for someone else's opinion on it so I can see if I should make more."
One of the benefits of being a Junker with a Gun browser. Also I told Tony that his tech would look more finished than most because I hate the fact that Mad Scientists could make neat looking tech, but Junkers which are supposed to be more advanced make their stuff look like garbage. The original one looked like Cole Ballard's large bore rifle on the cover of the main book.

"May I try it out sometime?" asked Smoker.

Sunday 29 May 2094
1908 Hours
Hot, dry.

28 Miles SW of Near Cortez

The trip through the dry, hot mountainous country was relatively uneventful. They had valid permits for passage out of Junkyard-controlled territory, and they saw their last checkpoint in Green River, Deseret, just past noon. It was manned by a militia company. Mostly infantry (similar to but better-armed and equipped than was usual in the Wasted West) supported by a platoon of armoured cars and SUVs, plus an APC with an autocannon and a battery of mortars.

After Green River, they turned south. The terrain was still rugged, dry, and if anything more hotter. And more rugged. They were in Ute territory now, although that wasn't really obvious. What was more noticeable was when they crossed the old former border of Deseret and Colorado, not to far from the "four corners" where Deseret, Colorado, Arizona and New Mexico met. The former national border wasn't that elaborate as Deseret and the USA had been allied states, but there had been a cluster of customs and border patrol buildings on both sides of the imaginary line in the desert. Now all the buildings, Deseret and US, were all burned out, concrete shells with landscaping long-dead due to a lack of pumped water.

Just southeast of there, on the Colorado side, was the intersection of Colorado Route 41 (the road they were travelling on) and Route 160. There, some 28 miles southwest of occupied Near Cortez, was where their contact, Jericho, was supposed to meet them. They didn't know what or who they were looking for, but if they found anyone waiting they had a recognition code: "Triceratops". The counter-sign was "Playground".

The sun was setting behind them as they approached the intersection, about two miles ahead of them. Around them was flat desert, the only vegetation were low tufts of tough desert grasses. Visibility to the horizon was excellent, they could see for miles on the flat desert. Parked at the intersection was a motorcylcle. At this range (2 miles distant) it was impossible to tell what kind or where the rider was located.

Smoker dug out his binoculars and started scanning, beginning with the parked bike and looking for disturbances in the vegetation around it - had the rider made off down the road, he'd have been visible, so likely he's somewhere in what bushes there are. He also glanced skywards - if the worst had befallen the rider, the vultures would be circling.

Peter stopped for a minute, making sure that Roadkill was caught up to them. He rolled down his driver's side window. He pulled his advanced combat rifle out of its case. He climbed up through the open window to 'sit' on the door with his legs still inside the cab. He pulled the rifle up and he looked out through the scope, first at the motorcycle and then slowly began to look around from side to side.

Assuming he didn't see anything resembling a trap, he climbed back in and radioed Roadkill he was going in.

Looking around Edgar was not quite sure what to think when told of the lone bike, he sat up trying to keep an eye on things close by as the others searched the outlying area.

As the sun set in the west over the rough mountains of the Ute Mountain Reservation in Utah, over the border in Colorado the small convoy rolled up to the intersection of highway 41 and US 160. Although there were mountains all around them the immediate area was hardpan and sandy. Sand had drifted over the road in places, making for a little slow going.

Roadkill broadcast on the CB, "Jericho, this is Roadkill calling. You got your ears on, good buddy? Come on back."

After a couple calls of this nature a figure stood up, half-concealed by a spider hold dug a hundred yards from the bike and covered with camo netting. In one hand was a rifle, "Jericho" (presumably) used the other hand to wave at them.

Trask did another scan of the area just after the figure stood up. It was certainly not standard behavior, but if he was out here on his own Trask would probably do the same. "Do you want company for the meet and great ?" he asks over the team comms net.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 02:01, Sat 08 July 2017.

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 36):

Due to the desert heat, Trask was unable to engage his FLIR. That said his advanced sensors did not detect anything out of the ordinary.

Regardless what others might do, this person was in a hurry. Perhaps they were also expecting the convoy and had a description? Whoever they were, they trotted to the road and waited for the technical to pull up.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 37):

The figure remained hidden under layers of sand-coloured cloth, with a hooded veil and goggles completely obscuring their face. Whoever it was, they were of average size and build but it was difficult to tell. When Peter pulled up he heard a voice altered by a voice synthesiser.

"Ok. I gotta make this quick before the Black Hats notice I am gone. A man matching the description you are looking for came through here on a hover-bike. Near Cortez is occupied by a Combine garrison but he had some kind of transit pass. He tried to keep it quiet but I found out he was looking for route information to a colony in Louisiana, some place called "Vivian". There's nothing there other than a small Waster community. What was waiting for him there, he wouldn't say.

"Anything else?"

In reply to Jericho (msg # 38):

The CB in the truck and Peter's helmet radio crackled.

"Breaker, breaker, Peter, you got your ears on, goosd buddy? Is it safe to approach? Come on back."

Peter drove up to where the motorcycle was and parked the truck. He stepped out and gave a nod to the figure, "Are you...Jericho?" He felt a little silly using a codename, although for all he knew that was the person's last name or something.

He listened to what the figure had to say and then Roadkill called out over the radio. "Yes, Roadkill. Come, hurry and I will tell you what was said."

To "Jericho" he said, "Please wait a few minutes. My allies may have questions and I do not want to trust conversation over the radio. We could be overheard. Surely just a few more minutes will not cause you trouble. We shall try to be brief."

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 40):

Jane frowned when Peter stepped out.  The crazy Indian would get himself killed one day by doing that.  Of course they all would get themselves killed doing their jobs.

"I've got you covered Peter so don't get in the way of my shot.  Be careful."

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 40):

The figure nodded checking a wristwatch. "Yes, I am Jericho.

"I do kind of have this timed to the minute, the Combine is watching me. But I do have a little leeway.

"Go ahead and have your friends come in and ask what they want."

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 40):

Roadkill pulled the rig up to where the agent waited patiently.

He asked a few questions, mostly verifying the information was about the man they were after, and it definitely seemed like it was, and where he was going.

"All right. I know where this Waster town is located. Vivian, Louisiana. We can make it there in a day or two. We might be able to catch up because we won't stop for fuel like Kargo will. I don't like travelling at night so that's not as big a factor. But yeah, I know the route.

"I got what I wanted, anyone else got a question?"

Peter thought for a moment while Roadkill showed up and everyone was filled in. He looked Jericho over a moment and then spoke up, "Jericho. Do you know if the Combine has a presence in this Vivian? And if so, what sort of presence?" He didn't know if that was even a concern, but might as well ask the inside expert while he was there.

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 44):

A shake of the head from Jericho. Whoever or whatever it was under the desert robes and camouflage looked muscular, solidly built, if short. Again, the voice was distorted by a synthesiser built into a full-face gas mask.

"Combine? No. Intelligence indicates they are not in Vivian. Roadkill? You're a trucker, you know anything about this 'burg?"

In reply to Jericho (msg # 45):

The name sounded familiar. Roadkill nodded. "Oh yeah. Let me think. Some capped oil wells around there they started up again, and agriculture. A Law Dog named Thomas Itson declared Martial Law. Fair and honest traders, don't break the law if you know what's good for you. Don't know what a scumbag biker like Kargo would want there." It had been a while but he'd been through there, scouting for the Convoy. Before that when he was with the road gang they had steered clear of the place.

 "Things can change Roadkill. Mr. Itson might not be around anymore or more likely Kargo might go there and claim he is the legit owner which makes us all the thieves. No way to know for sure until we get there." the normally silent Junker says

In reply to Tech. Sgt. Airen Crichton (msg # 47):

What Crichton said was true but Roadkill, being something of an irritable jerk, replied with an eye-roll, "yeah, thanks for the news, Cronkite. If that's it, let's roll!"


Marshall's Note: Again, Crichton said something pretty valid and I meant Roadkill's response to be amusing and what that NPC would say, and not a shot across Crichton's bow!

 Chricton just laughs at the Cronkite remark. "Silly trucker Quips are for kids!" laughs his way back to the fighting nest. Mumbling about quips

In reply to Tech. Sgt. Airen Crichton (msg # 49):

Seeing that all information had been imparted, the mysterious agent mounted the motorcycle. After it was kicked to life, the dirt bike turned onto the cracked highway and then roared off in the direction of Near Cortez.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 50):

In the cab of his truck, Roadkill consulted his map and did some figuring.

He then waved Peter over.

"If we travel at a safe speed, we can make Vivian in, oh, 35 hours. Give or take. Three days of driving 12-on, 12-off. We can cut it down to 2 if we drive 16 hours a day. What do you say?"

Peter watched 'Jericho' leave, and stared for a moment, until Roadkill called him over. He turned and walked over to the semi-truck's cab. He listened to Roadkill speak about the potential logistics of the drive. He thought about it for a moment and then replied. "Well. I think we should likely play it safe and go with three days. As much as I would like to get there quicker, I fear trying to cut it down to two days might cause a problem potentially."

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 52):

Roadkill looked over at Brother Edgar.

"What say you, my radioactive friend? Does the Glow give you any guidance?"

It was difficult to tell if he was joking or serious, although in the past the trucker had both teased him and been sympathetic to the worship of the Glow. (Or as he sometimes said, "the Blow", depending on how sarcastic he was feeling!)
This message was last edited by the player at 20:09, Mon 21 Aug 2017.