Special Delivery

"Looks like our courier down there, Miss,." came from one of the sentries she'd hired for this quick job. Regan Fortune roused from her half consciousness. When you were out in the Badlands you never truly slept. Even when you had three toughs with you, all loaded for bear. Should probably change that expression to be "loaded for Rad-Bears".

Out here wasn't what it used to be. The world, in the last six decades, had gone through not one, but two apocalypses. The first affected this area the most. A rogue terrorist nation had taken control of a couple old nuclear silos, somewhere in Southeast Asia, and tried to convince the old “Super Power” Nations that they had fired at each other.

The end was a bunch of nuclear mushroom clouds. Thankfully, full on war was avoided. However, their secondary objective was completed. Most of the nuclear silos around the world had been destroyed. That included a good portion in the middle of the former United States, such as the Badlands, Dakotas Territory.

The second apocalypse, the purge wave, didn't affect those out here too much.

Regan used her cybernetic eyes to zoom in as if she had a pair of old military binoculars, and spotted the lone courier on his hover bike. It was an older model, not in good shape. But when she hired him, she knew that.

Once she had him in the reticles of her targeting display, another voice came to her head, "That's him. Should be an easy drop."

That voice was known by the name 'Nampheel', an AI entity that lived in her built-in personal communicator computer. He was one of the Asura, digital entities that were found when the Psi-Fi network went live, years ago.

He was right, this was an easy trick: hire a guy to carry something out of the Puget Sound Metroplex, and jack it from him out here in the Badlands. That prevented having to deal with the PSMPD or corporate interest.

"Okay guys, mount up. Target is 3 clicks down on a side road. Non-lethals only. We need his payload in one piece. After we've got that, you can leave him to the Rad-Bears. Am I understood?," she added as she got up from a crouching lean against an old tree.

Two of her hired thugs moved with her. They'd pulled their own hoverbikes out via a cargo sled, driven by a third man. It was slower than a mutant tortoise. He had to stay with it, otherwise that old O'toole's law would come into play.

And according to O'toole, Murphy was an optimist.

Ms. Fortune, also her street name, and the two men got onto their bikes. They were small arrowhead shaped things; all engine, with a seat and handlebars. Each had a pod mounted, like an old sidecar, with a small EM cannon rigged into place. Non-lethal, as she’d indicated. All that was needed since The courier's bike was an old battery model.

If shit got bad then their sidearms would have to do. Hopefully no land sharks or rad-bears were actually out there.

All three pushed the power buttons in unison, and the three turbines spun up making the dilapidated forest suddenly full of sound. Birds that had been quiet due to the potential predators around, suddenly flew off in flocks, and filled the air with their warning cries.

Regan held up her hand, and then motioned for them to go. Three arrowheads sped down the hill, a meter or so off the ground. It wasn't as smooth as one would hope, but decades of plant growth in a radiation containment zone led to a lot of inaccuracy in old maps.

The courier, he'd noticed the changes. The birds flying away, the dull hum of three H3 powered turbine engines in the distance and now getting closer.

He pulled his throttle to go faster, as fast as that battery powered thing could take him. He was hitting an easy 50 knots when they finally caught up to him. The two hired guns started taking shots at him, the glowing dull gray balls of energy hitting wide.

Their job was to corral him. Line him up for her shots. Hers were calculated, and she was using a targeting app that was enhanced with Nampheel's abilities. Her first three shots missed, but the fourth hit solid into the battery compartment.

The pressure built up in the small containment area. Then the plate flew off, opening it to the air, sparks followed by black smoke. The old hoverbike lost the little altitude it had and slammed into the ground. It slid about thirty feet forward till it hit a fallen tree trunk and flipped over it.

The three hunters closed distance on their target, fanning out into an arc pattern. They stopped and dismounted, leaving their engines running in idle.

One of the two hired guns pulled his sidearm, a small needler, and Regan gave him a glare. He holstered it, but kept his hand on it. She noted he was probably ex-law enforcement.

The courier stood up and doffed the poncho he'd been wearing. He was a cybered up model; both legs, and one arm were obvious, probably more inside of him. He produced a small bullpup rifle and leveled it at them. "This isn't going to be easy for you. I'm a licensed courier out of the Puget Sound Metroplex. I'm not going to just let you have my cargo."

Regan laughed at him, "I know who and what you are, Mr. MacKenzie. I'm technically the one who paid the deposit for your services. Just have to let you know, your services are no longer needed. All you have to do is hand the box over and we'll figure things out from there."

The courier, Mr. MacKenzie, shook his head, "Not sure how you intend to prove that. Bottom line, I'm paid to take this box to the Chicago Enclave. And out here, ain't no law man going to tell me I can't fill you full of metal slivers. Now, stand down, back off, and let me go."

Regan put her hand up to him, "Look, it's three on one, and we have one more on a long range if needed. I'm not looking for any blood shed out here. It'll draw too much unwanted attention. You don't want any of the local fauna coming here when they smell blood, ours or yours."

The voice in her head spoke, "Thanks for leaving the bike on. I've got a lock on. His rifle is currently down, but recharging. It's a low yield rail. I can put him cyber-down on your call."

Regan replied back, also in her own head via her P-Comm, "I can see that. He's holding it up right in front of me. But thanks for heads up on its power status."

The courier motioned with the rifle again, "Come on, let's break this up. Once my bike can go again, I'll be on my way."

His movements made the two toughs with her draw their handguns. The guns were old fashioned 9-mils, gunpowder, and not affected by the use of the EM guns. Again Regan had to calm things down.

"Hold fire!" she yelled as her hands waved at them. Good thugs weren't cheap, and she'd not spent a lot on them. "His rifle is currently down. Look, no indicator lights. The capacitor dumped its charge when his bike got hit. He's probably got another minute or two before he could think about shooting us."

With that, she cocked her head to the side a bit, and gave the courier a smile, "And he knows this, meaning he also knows he should just turn over everything and guarantee he's not turned into animal food out here. We're packing old slugthrowers, meaning it will be a very one sided gunfight. Now, hand over the fucking box!" she yelled the last part from frustration.

He reacted as she expected. He dropped his rifle, letting it hang loose on the ready-sling that was hooked to his jacket, and pulled a small side arm from behind his back.

"Now!" she yelled out in her head. Nampheel didn't respond to her directly. Instead the EM gun on her bike rang out in three short sounds that resembled the sound of a large animal burping. All three hit him, one in each cybernetic limb.

He crumpled to the ground as the capacitors that kept his enhancements shorted out. Magnets and hydraulic pumps lost power, and couldn't hold his weight anymore. His flesh hand was holding the pistol, and it went off in a wild direction, the bullet hitting a tree somewhere.

"Damnit!" he yelled out. He hadn’t expected the vehicle's weapons to fire without an actual rider to actuate the controls. He tried to retrain his pistol. Being as how it was his off hand, he wasn’t able to aim as well. One of her hired guns was already moving.

The thug grabbed the courier’s gun and wrenched it from his hand. Then he backed off, two steps. Maybe both were former cops. But that one was a smart one, maybe he deserved a bonus.

Regan walked up to the courier’s bike and started opening the hard case saddlebag like containers. It didn’t take long for her to find what she was after. A small box, the kind used to store guns or delicate computer equipment.

She put her thumb to the lock and the case opened. Inside was a small simple piece of jewelry. A cheap looking silver plated, heart shaped locket. The kind you’d give to a young child with pictures inside.

Dropping the case, she looked over the locket in her hand. Once she found the mechanism she popped it open. "See, my thumb print opened the box. So it is mine." She added looking at no one in particular.

Inside was a high density data chip. Maybe three-quarters of an inch long on each side. It was the type used for corporate servers. Thankfully she knew what to expect and was ready for this. She inserted the chip into a slot in her P-Comm's connectors at her forearm, and waited.

"Confirmed: subject entity Gadreel is present on the chip." Nampheel interjected after scanning the chip's digital contents.

"Good, let's get him to my brother so he can be mounted onto his system" Regan said internally. Turning towards her men, she said, "Alright, this is it. Pack out, we head back to Boise."

They all returned to their bikes and mounted up. The one tossed the courier's sidearm about ten yards off to his side. Regan shook her head in response, but let it be, and just motioned for them to go.

They all accelerated on their bikes, getting up to speed to add distance between them and their target. Then over her P-Comm came a comment from one of the others, "But we're working out of Minneapolis, not Boise."

Regan's reply was simple, "I know. But he doesn't."