Cyberpunk: I'm Not a Scavenger - Chapter 95: The Brainiac (Patreon)

There were plenty of abandoned towns on the outskirts of Night City.

Some had existed long before the city itself was founded.

As Night City expanded and drew more and more people into its orbit, those settlements gradually emptied out until they were little more than ghost towns.

One of them had been chosen as the meeting place for the Wraiths and Arasaka.

Just as Pantheon predicted, an Arasaka agent had approached the Wraiths sheltering Rafael and the other survivors less than two days later.

The corporation promised an almost unimaginable reward and offered to supply the weapons for the job.

They had arranged to exchange the equipment here, in the deserted town.

"Mr. Trevor, I'm confident these weapons will help you accomplish your mission."

The Arasaka agent spoke heavily accented, awkward Japanese-style English. Fortunately, Trevor's translation chip allowed him to understand most of it.

Several Wraiths climbed into the truck and began hauling out crates. Judging by how they sweated under the weight, this was no ordinary shipment.

Rows of Kang Tao smart weapons gleamed with a blue-black finish. There were also two Defender heavy machine guns from Constitutional Arms, complete with ammunition and accessories.

Other crates held smart rounds and large-caliber armor-piercing ammunition by the boxful, along with more grenades and landmines than anyone cared to count.

One Wraith swallowed hard as he lifted an especially large weapon out of its crate.

It was a man-portable loitering munition system capable of engaging aircraft and tanks, with four spare rounds included.

Forget ambushing a transport convoy. This much firepower was enough to fight a small military engagement.

"Don't you worry, Mr. Kameda! It's just a corporate convoy. I've hit those before. Nothing to it!"

Trevor thumped his chest as though Militech's people were already dead and buried.

Kameda gave a dismissive snort and tossed him a data shard.

"These are the convoy's route and detailed shipping arrangements. Remember, if you can't seize the cargo, destroy it. If you botch even that, Arasaka has a hundred ways to make every last one of you disappear. Understood?"

The threat in Kameda's voice was unmistakable.

The security agents on either side quietly closed ranks, hemming Trevor in.

"Got it! Got it! I'll make sure Militech leaves every vehicle and every man right here in the Badlands!"

Trevor wasn't intimidated in the least. He bared his rotting teeth in an ugly grin.

Kameda gave him a disapproving look, climbed into his car, and drove away.

Only when the cloud of dust had vanished beyond the horizon did Trevor let the contempt show on his face.

"Fucking corpos. They really think I'm their cannon fodder!"

He spat a thick glob of phlegm on the ground, kicked aside the underlings swarming the crates, and picked up a smart submachine gun to try it out.

With the weapon's targeting system guiding his shots, he effortlessly riddled a shop sign dozens of meters away.

His underlings howled and cheered at the sight.

"Fuck! With gear like this, I could set myself up as the boss anywhere!"

Carried away by his excitement, Trevor decided on the spot to take the weapons and run.

As far as he was concerned, all he had to do was disappear into the Badlands desert. Surely the corporation couldn't come after him out there.

If things got really bad, he'd leave Night City altogether. Los Angeles, Atlanta, anywhere. There was a whole world out there waiting for someone like him!

Rafael, standing nearby, grew anxious.

After finally finding a glimmer of hope for his people, there was no chance he was going to let Trevor drag him off on some mad escape.

He went to the crates and rummaged through them. A moment later, he returned with two strange-looking components.

"Boss, it isn't that simple."

Rafael lowered his voice and held up the devices.

"Arasaka planted trackers and listening bugs in the equipment. We can't just run off with it."

Ever since Pantheon and his crew had stormed Trevor's old base, the Wraith leader hadn't managed to recruit any new technicians or netrunners.

Rafael was the most educated person he had left.

Trevor stared at the tracking device, his expression darkening.

"Fuckers! Trying to pull a fast one on me!"

He paced around the crates, searching for an answer and finding none.

But he couldn't bear the thought of simply doing what Arasaka wanted, either.

Even if they beat Militech, fighting the convoy head-on would probably cost him most of his men.

"Rafael! Get me a plan, damn it!"

Desperate enough to try anything, Trevor turned to the tribe's resident 'intellectual' to see whether he could come up with something useful.

Me?

Rafael pointed at himself, caught off guard.

Back in his tribe, he'd been an ordinary engineer who repaired water pipes and generators. Military tactics were beyond him.

He studied the projected map and the convoy's route, trying to invent some excuse to satisfy Trevor.

Then a message arrived from Pantheon, who had been listening to the conversation all along.

Rafael's eyes lit up. He pretended to think for a moment, then looked toward a tall power transmission tower in the distance and clapped his hands.

"I've got it!"

"Boss, take a look at this."

He pointed to a spot on the map where Militech's convoy would have to pass.

"The convoy goes right beside that transmission tower. If we tamper with its control system and deliberately overload the current, we can trigger a massive EMP storm across the area."

Trevor's beady eyes lit up.

"An EMP? Then we can knock out every fucking electronic system Militech's got!"

"Exactly!"

Rafael nodded eagerly, selling the story with an impressively straight face.

"Better yet, the electromagnetic interference will cut their communications with Militech headquarters. Once they're isolated, we can do whatever we want."

"Now that's what I'm talking about! Knew you were good for something, brainiac!"

Trevor was overjoyed. Good thing he'd kept these nomads around. Otherwise, he'd never have thought of anything like this.

The Red Ocher survivors knew Biotechnica would hunt them down if it learned who they were, so they'd passed themselves off as nomads from some distant tribe.

Their heavy cloaks helped conceal their appearances, and Trevor had never recognized them.

"Wait a fucking minute!"

His delight lasted only seconds. He pointed angrily at the weapons crates.

"An EMP doesn't have a brain! How's it supposed to tell our gear from Militech's? If it fries all these guns we just got, what the hell am I supposed to use to hijack the convoy?"

Rafael had been ready for that question.

"Don't worry, boss. I've inspected those crates. They're already well shielded. With a few modifications, I can turn them into electromagnetic protection boxes. We just seal the weapons inside ahead of time, and I guarantee none of the guns will be damaged."

"Brilliant!"

Trevor's expression changed once again. Grinning broadly, he clapped Rafael on the shoulder.

He could already picture the Militech convoy helplessly immobilized, its people unable to do anything but wait for the slaughter.

"We'll do it your way! Rafael, I'm putting you in charge!"

"You got it, boss!"

Rafael bowed respectfully, but his thoughts were on the instructions Pantheon had given him.

Mr. King, I've completed the task you assigned me.