Solace & Taproots

3.3

Sam watched Ronnie and Rebecca stagger out of the condo building's lobby. Even exhausted, limping slightly, and bleeding slowly from a cut on her forearm, Ronnie was vigilant, aiming down her sights and surveying the street, but she relaxed when she saw Barry's team was doing a decent job of security. Rebecca's exit was more hurried — she had her Tavor at a low ready, Felicia hastily slung over her back, but after seeing Ronnie relax and turn to check on the spotter team's condition she jogged quickly to where Sam was starting to get up. Sam smiled at her and extended a hand.

"Help a girl up?"

That got a little chuckle, and Rebecca pulled her up directly into a relieved embrace, thunking their recon armor cuirasses against the other. When they stepped back, both of their expressions turned to dismay — at Rebecca's myriad of scrapes and scratches from flying debris, and at Sam's grimace and grunt as she put her hand on her back.

She saw Rebecca looking her over further worriedly, and explained. "I'm okay. I just pulled something in my back when we tipped the AT-AT."

Rebecca sagged in relief and returned the status report. "They're all just flesh wounds - hurts but I'm still in the fight."

"Oh Remy." Sam shook her head. "It's all fun and games until someone is hopping around on one leg. Bad enough we're in black armor, don't jinx us further."

Ronnie scoffed at both of them as she returned, flanked by one of the newly re-armed spotters. "I swear, you two. Anyway. The brave idiot caught a round in the hip, but looks like his pelvis and artery are intact. He's stable. You two?"

They shrugged at her and Sam replied. "Okay enough to scold each other, Sarge."

Ronnie nodded, and gestured at the vehicle, then over her shoulder to where gunfire still echoed. "So you're both up for a little Grand Theft Auto then?"

The women made their way towards the truck, where one of Barry's guys was already unceremoniously moving and tossing bodies aside. Rebecca got a look at the driver, and Sam had almost literally cut him off at the knees — she must have shot his legs under the door, and then either she or Barry finished him.

Her attention turned to the vehicle. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen, bigger than a Humvee, and smaller than those giant six-wheeled trucks she'd seen in later Afghanistan and Iraq news. Honestly, it looked like their very angry middle sibling. The front edge of the hood was level with her face, the bumper higher than her knee, engine still rumbling within. No wonder Sam could hit that guy from below. Rebecca thought it would look at home in a Halo game or an Aliens movie, and even Ronnie seemed awed — but like she knew why she should be.

"Jesus... who the fuck are these guys that they got themselves a fucking Oshkosh?"

Sam tilted her head. "Sarge... I'm going to guess you're not talking about the kid's overalls."

"You'd be right. These beasts were going to be the next Humvees. MRAPs in a smaller package. God, what I'd have given to be riding around in one of these a decade ago."

"Huh."

As Sam meandered around the side of the 'Humvee 2.0' or whatever, peeking in at the cabin — the floorboards at the height of her chin, Ronnie quietly spoke to Bex. "You okay, kid?"

Bex surprised herself with a shiver. "Yeah. I... let's say I get the whole no fraternization within squads thing now. To the hilt." Ronnie clapped her on the shoulder and gave her a gentle affectionate shake, but their attention was pulled to Sam's excitement around the corner.

"Oooh!" She scampered back into view and looked at the toppled mech. "Oooooooh. Sarge, this is going to be fun."

Rebecca and Ronnie shared a look and followed her back around the side of the truck, trying not to laugh as she hauled herself up onto a steel 'running board' step the height of her thigh, and then onwards into the rear cabin. Once seated, Sam gestured at a console in front of and around her seat. "Look. Comms. Fancy electronic warfare stuff. Situation awareness. And look!" She poked her finger excitedly at a screen showing a frozen sideways view of the street in front of them, with a SIGNAL LOST message blinking in the middle. Bex glanced back at the mech, and back at the screen, and back at Sam, whose wide-eyed glee was palpable when their eyes met. "Yeahhhh. Exactly."

**

Rebecca reluctantly and cautiously followed Sam's instruction to reconnect the mech's power cutoff — ready to yank it back out at the slightest alarming twitch... and only breathed easier after Sam held out a thumbs up and gave her a happy wave from the control seat. Ronnie, meanwhile, had solved the puzzle of getting the thing upright again. After initial lamentations about nothing overhead to toss the truck's winch line over, she thought to angle it around a street lamp post. They dragged the mech to the nearby curb where its feet snagged, arresting the slide and fulcrumed the bot upright.

Sam ran a quick function check and confirmed complete control from the truck, and as she continued to tinker, couldn't resist trying to mimic an evil mastermind voice as she proclaimed, "ARISE, muahahah! I dub thee Thorn!" Then, she switched to a deep, artificially monotone voice: "Robots, ACTIVATE."

Ronnie rolled her eyes and Rebecca very carefully did not, as she was right in front of the mech's camera while the two of them worked to exchange the cannon's armored box magazine with one from the truck's cargo bay. That got another excited thumbs up over the top of the big vehicle's roof.

After a brief conference with Barry, Ronnie returned to Bex. "They'll pull back with us and hold at the gate while we go join the party. You good to drive, and I'll grab the Ma-Deuce?"

This wasn't familiar jargon to Rebecca. "The what? Also, I've never driven anything this fucking huge."

"M-2 fifty caliber heavy machine gun. You who talk about respecting the classics. And, don't worry. I'm pretty sure we won't notice if you hit something. Make like the song and shut up and drive."

Rebecca still looked moderately horrified and her mouth moved like she was trying to think of something to say. She decided she probably looked like a goldfish, shut her mouth, and went around the truck to climb into the driver's seat, closing the door with a very solid thunk. Ronnie with the country music again.

Rebecca had just figured out where the basic controls were on her new monster, amongst the dizzying array of switches, knobs and a touch screen, and Sam was starting to radio out... "Control, Oscar Whiskey Two and Conroy. Commandeered..." ... when Ronnie's booted feet thumped down from the roof hatch and made Sam squeak.

"Say again, Conroy? We had some weird interference there..." Rebecca had to strain not to giggle at Sam's blush behind the radio handset.

Sam let out a fuming sigh and pulled her cap off in frustration. "Commandeered robotic weapon platform and armored vehicle moving through top level to assist eastern friendlies. Please tell relevant parties not to fucking shoot at us."

"Copy, Conroy. Will relay."

Rebecca released the parking brake and put the transmission in gear, but was so startled by how the vehicle started to creep faster than she expected, with only a slight whine and no major change in engine sound, that she stomped on the brake pedal with a lurch. "Sorry! Jesus. I think this thing's actually a hybrid."

Sam groaned from the back. "Okay, but can you try to avoid throwing me at the screen in front of me, please?"

"Yes Miss Daisy. Sorry, Miss Daisy.