Cyberpunk: I'm Not a Scavenger - Chapter 53: Backed into a Corner (Patreon)

In one sense, the Wraiths had done Pantheon and his allies a favor by hiding in the mine. If the gang had kept roaming the vast Badlands as usual, finding them would have been much harder.

The mine was easy to defend, but once the Wraiths were cornered inside, they would have nowhere left to run.

Boom!

Another muffled blast echoed through the tunnels, shaking dust loose from the rock walls.

“Fuck! How many times is that now? I’m running out of men!”

Trevor, the Wraiths’ leader, slammed a fist on the metal table, sending empty bottles clattering to the ground.

A projection above the table showed his traps and concealed sentries being picked off one by one. The problem was that no one had even seen the attackers.

On the feed, several crude remote-controlled cars the size of shoeboxes raced along the bases of the rock walls, each loaded with grenades. They weighed just enough to set off the mines, and they even ran back and forth over any that failed to detonate.

Forget clearing mines. They were trampling all over the Wraiths’ dignity. The ambushers could do nothing to stop them.

The mine’s confined passages kept Pantheon from using powerful high-explosive grenades. But incendiary, flashbang, chemical, and laser grenades arrived one after another.

Pantheon had an endless supply of little cars. How many eddies did the Wraiths’ buddies cost to replace? At this rate, the Wraiths posted outside the main camp would soon be wiped out.

Every facet of the flylike compound eye on the right side of Trevor’s head fixed on the netrunner before him as though he wanted to eat the man alive.

“Didn’t you brag that you could hack anything on wheels in the Badlands? So why the fuck can’t you hack a toy car?”

He grew angrier with every word and finally kicked the table over.

The netrunner wiped cold sweat from his brow, looking thoroughly aggrieved.

“Boss, it’s not my fault! I searched everywhere and couldn’t find a signal! Then I noticed an optical fiber thinner than a hair trailing from the back of one of the cars! How was I supposed to see that in the dark? There isn’t even a wireless receiver on the damn thing. Bartmoss himself couldn’t hack it!”

“Fiber-optic control? What the hell is that?”

Trevor stared at him, the single natural eye he had left full of innocent stupidity.

“It’s like pulling it around with a wire!”

The netrunner had been driven nearly mad. It must have cost him plenty of brain cells to think of an explanation his boss might understand.

“I can’t hack a piece of wire!”

“Y-you can’t?”

Trevor remained unconvinced. He had always assumed a netrunner could hack anything that ran on electricity.

He was clever in his own way, but completely uneducated. Most people in the Cyberpunk world were much the same. They knew how to operate things without knowing why they worked. Without the widespread use of skill chips, many probably wouldn’t even understand the basics.

“Forget it.”

Trevor waved the whole matter aside.

“Call everyone back. Secure the camp entrance. We’ve got men and guns. Let’s see those bastards try to force their way through!”

Panicked acknowledgments crackled over the comms, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps and equipment being dragged around. The camp entrance was sealed with sandbags, ground spikes, and steel barricades. Three heavy machine guns swung into position, their laser sights cutting through clouds of dust.

Chaos erupted among the Wraiths. Two men carrying supplies collided, spilling ammunition and grenades across the ground. Curses in a dozen languages filled the entrance. Those outside wanted to get in, while those inside wanted to finish laying traps first.

They were getting close to fighting each other.

The Wraiths were criminals expelled from all sorts of tribes. Calling them an unruly mob was being generous. Even the Scavengers recruited from the city’s underclass showed more discipline.

Trevor watched the mess with a dark expression, climbed atop a cargo crate, and fired several shots into the ceiling.

Bang! Bang!

The gunshots drowned out the argument, silencing the crowd.

“Listen up, you sons of bitches!”

Trevor swept his glowing red compound eye over his men.

“Those Aldecaldos hicks are blocking the way out. None of us can leave, me included! We’ve got food for now, but what if they keep us here for a month? Half a year? You’ll be eating shit!”

His voice carried through the cavern with an oddly persuasive force.

“So tell me, do you want to eat shit?”

“No!” “Who the fuck wants to eat shit?”

“Yeah!” “Kill those bastards!”

The gang erupted in incoherent howls. Some men got so carried away that they fired their guns.

Trevor nodded with satisfaction and thrust a fist into the air.

“Hold the entrance and we’ll kill every bastard who comes through! Once we break out, I’ll take you all to Jig-Jig Street. Two girls apiece!”

“Girls!” “I want ten!”

“Hell yeah!” “Kill! Kill! Kill!”

The camp’s morale soared. It remained a chaotic mess, but at least everyone started working faster.

Trevor climbed down and beckoned one of his trusted men into a corner.

“Boss, I don’t want girls. Could you get me a dog?”

The man lowered his voice, sounding almost embarrassed.

When Trevor said nothing, he hurried to explain.

“I’ve always liked furry things. Just let me touch one.”

Trevor blinked in confusion. What the hell was this guy talking about?

“Idiot! Go prepare the explosives at that abandoned exit, then load the most valuable crates onto a cart.”

The young man stared at him.

“Boss, we’re running awa...”

Trevor silenced him with a murderous glare.

“Keep your mouth shut or I’ll make you eat shit myself.”

The man scrambled off toward the back of the camp. Trevor watched him go with the cold look of someone staring at a dead man.

Meanwhile, back at the mine entrance, Pantheon put down the remote control, rose from the rock he had been sitting on, and stretched contentedly.

Behind him, Mitch studied the little cars’ optical sensors in fascination.

“Never thought you could use fiber optics like that. You’ve taught me something today.”

Pantheon shook his head. Technology was the foundation of any invention, but imagination was what gave it form. Drones and communications systems in the Cyberpunk world were far ahead of those from Pantheon’s old world.

Yet fiber-optic guidance had received surprisingly little attention.

Even Mitch, a veteran of the Unification War, had never seen anything quite like it.

“The outer defenses are almost cleared, but what now?”

Panam frowned.

“Those little cars won’t get us into the camp itself.”

Pantheon smiled calmly and produced a fan from nowhere, fanning himself as if he had all the time in the world.

“They’re out of tricks and as good as dead. Now watch how it’s done.”