“All I am asking-”

  “- Hold,” she requested. Her finger started to squeeze the trigger. The target had become clear - a sole raider captain barking orders from atop his perch. A concussive crack rang from atop the roof of the front freight car of the train and echoed across the sand. 500 yards from her location, the raider’s left shoulder jolted back forcing him to stumble over the protective railing of the crow’s nest. Before the men knew what had happened, their captain’s body went limp from the impact of hitting the main deck floor. Portia watched two of his former crew appear to discuss the new found hierarchy of command. One drew a dagger. Chaos broke out amongst the ranks.

  Portia peered from beyond her scope. “What was it you were saying, Aust?” she asked out of the side of her mouth. Seven ships had caught the winds of the White Sand Sea effectively interrupting their budding conversation.

  “I was saying that I believe you owe me a drink,” Aust said, his sly smile oozing with arrogance from the comm link.

  “Actually… hold-” Her gaze dialed down the scope determining her next target - an unarmored navigator unaware of the pending danger. Portia grabbed her breath and squeezed. The blast sang across the swirling sand, and the navigator was forced to their knees grasping their chest. “As I was about to say; I believe you are the one who owes me a drink, ” she corrected him.

  “From when?”

  “Norton freight, two months back. By the way, they’re closing on our position. The lead ship is no more than 300 yards from your location,” she told him.

  Seven ships had originally launched with the shift of the winds. It was a common practice for the nomadic raiders of the White Sand Sea. The final hour stretch into Maker ran straight east giving opportunity if you were able to harvest the winds and race across the pure white fluid sand.

  “Do not do that. You can not gloss over any of that,” Aust said. She could hear him finalizing the touches of their plan as he bitched. “Plus ,we both know that Norton does not count,”

  “Fine. Hold-” She said. One more round was in the chamber, and she had found her final victim. One of the border partying commanders. He strutted across the deck awaiting the clearance to board the train and harvest the water aboard. He began to beat his chest to hype his men for their rampage. Portia brought in the wind through her nose and squeezed. The hot lead tore through the commander’s windpipe. Before his body hit the floor, his men had found cover to quiver behind. “Aust, they are less than 200 yards and closing. There appears to be no synths amongst them - all human. Anyone with access to a personal shield has been disposed of. The best course of action is most likely lasers over sluggers. But ensure you have access to both. You ready?”

  “For our date?” Aust asked. The soft click of metal rang from his end. “Fair warning: if you are buying, then I will have to update the reservation to a nicer location. Does 7pm work for you?”

  “Are you ready: Yes or no?”

  “For tonight? No. I am not too sure what to ord -”

  “-Take this seriously,” Portia interjected.

  “I am,” Aust said before adding, “I personally have no idea what I am going to wear. What about you?”

  “Aust,” she tried to say.

  “You get so tight-.”

  “-Aust-”

  He cut her off, “Five ships left in the initial boarding party, thanks to your help. At this time, no apparent synth interaction is expected. That fact combined with you picking off their commanding officers, then it is safe to assume laser bolts is all which will be needed. I delay them to ensure they are entrapped, then we meet in the bar car for a celebratory toast. Better?”

  “Thank you, Aust. I’m activating my shield so communications will be limited,” she said.

  Before she fully switched over, he opened up the line, “Tell you what, double or nothing, the person with the highest confirmed kill count wins. We both know how much of an excuse you want to justify wearing that new dress. The green one, not the red,” he said leaving the line open. A soft click from the comm link confirmed he had finalized the initial steps of their plan.

  “I’m not going to make this into a game,” she said. The leading ship was within 100 yards of Aust’s location at the back of the train. Within a matter of seconds, they would be able to tether on and board.

  “Is Portia Carter afraid she is going to lose?” Aust jested. She could imagine his smug grin paired with his deep well of blue eyes.

  Portia took the empty cartridge from her rifle. She grabbed one from her belt, and locked it into place. “You better lock in,” she advised, aiming down the sight. Three raiders were trying to pull their dead boarding commanders to cover.

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  “Why is-” Aust started to ask before being drowned out by three sharp concussive cracks.

  “Cause, my kill count is already up to five,” Portia said, then closed off the line between them and primed her personal shield. Rising to her feet, she slid the rifle back into its sleeve and slung it onto her back.

  She knew her current position gave an advantage during the boarding process, but the pending slugfest to follow would be different. Aust would be on the front line without her if she stayed put. While he was more than capable of handling himself, she needed to ensure she could provide support if necessary.

  She slid down the ladder, then opened the side door to the main car. The long range component of the rifle found their home throughout her vest as she optimized it for close range targets. Her fingers locked the last mechanisms into place. A light tap ensured her lead slugger pistol was loaded and strapped to her right thigh. A quick check of her left side pocket to ensure the denotator was present. Portia collected herself and was off to the rendezvous point.

  ************

  “The beautiful part of her plans is they always seem to involve me being on the front line,” Aust muttered under his breath. Lead sang over his head, and he recalled the bench seat being taller when he first started using it for cover. “I can take out most of the larger threats before they even board the ship, Aust.” A corner of the bench seat exploded into a rain of splinters as he continued, “Hold them for a minute or two. They will gain a foothold and confidence, then we pull the rung beneath their feet. The key is for them to believe that they won. Well, what if they actually win, Port,” he mocked, taking a breath. He shot up from behind his cover. He picked off a raider which had been barking out orders to those around him. Luckily, the man was new to command so the laser bolt met no resistance.

  Aust fell back beneath his cover without a moment to spare. The assault of bullets nipped at his heels. “Come out,” a harsh voice demanded of him from the other end of the car.

  “You sure that is what you want? Every time I come out, one of you falls. If anything, after the tenth of you, I thought you would be asking for me to stay covered,” he mocked. He knew their patience was starting to run thin. From their point of view, their assault had gone without a hitch before running into Aust. He had let them settle for two car lengths before starting the defensive countermeasures. Now, they were behind schedule and low on lead. Tempers were starting to flare. He found that to be the case when those in charge start getting a bullet for a third eye. They may have been a bunch of sand bathing scoundrels, but they had some sense to them regarding the will to live.

  Another round of bullets tore into the bench, yet this one cut short. While they may have enough sense to want to stay alive, the knowledge of ammunition control was not in their wheelhouse. If possible, they should have kept him pinned down with laser bolts not lead sluggers. He waited a breath to confirm his suspensions. A wave of laser bolts tore through the wood of the bench. Aust could not help to smile. His personal shield dissipated the impact of the bolts converting them into energy rounds for his own pistol. He waited half a tick then shot up from cover. Four quick volleys of three and four more raiders fell. He pushed forward. The laser bolts tried to bore into his flesh but his shield harnessed the blows feeding his own offense. Five. Six. Seven. The men started to fall like flies. One last raider stood in shock. He released a last volley into the raider’s chest and started his retreat. Portia had her plan, and he was already behind schedule. Every few steps, he provided some sporadic cover fire until he was two cars away from them. He opened the final door and stepped backwards through to the rendezvous point.

  “Weren’t you wearing a hat?” a silvery voice asked. He closed the door behind him.

  “Part of the show. They would hardly believe that I was being overrun if I was able to keep my hat,” he said back, still peering through the door’s window to confirm they were alone. Before he turned to face Portia, he could feel that all knowing smirk painted across her face. He had been right. That devilish grin greeted him. She sat on the far left bench seat facing the door. Her opal handle pistol was drawn. “A lesser man would take that as a sign of a lack of faith,” he said, holstering his own gun.

  “We both know you’ll get over it. Plus, I’m sitting aren’t I?” Her rich brown eyes seemed to note the confirmation he had already forgiven her if he had even held it against her at all. “I assume they’re in position.”

  “Yeah. I gave one last heroic push before a tactical but necessary retreat,” Aust said, making his way to the bar. He found a seat on a stool in front of an already prepared drink. “This for me?”

  “Of course. Sorry if it’s watered down. Made it according to our timeline.”

  Aust took a draw from the drink. It was still cool enough, but the bourbon burn had been cut by the melted ice. “Well, plans seem to work better when you are not dodging bullets. They had a larger reservoir of lead, so I had to wait for them to make the full switch to laser bolts. Like I said, I really tried to sell it.”

  Portia rose from her seat and joined him at the bar. “Really tried to sell it or,” she let the last word drag out toying with him, “trying to secure enough of a lead over me?” She leaned against the bar next to him. He found himself fighting a smile. “How many, Aust?”

  He caught his tongue between his front teeth and took another swig of the burn. “Eighteen.”

  “How many were confirmed to have boarded the ship?”

  “Could not tell you,” he said, taking a sip of the drink she had made for him. The burn of the bourbon helped wash away the lie.

  “I think confirmation was approximately thirty,” Portia said. She pulled the detonator from her left side pocket. “If that is true,” she flipped the protective covers, “When these charges get the rest, you will still have more confirmed kills.” Aust was about to toy with her when the door flung open. He spun around and drew his laser bolt pistol. A quick volley hit the man in the chest, but his personal shield dissipated the force. A sole sharp clap thundered. The raider fell upon himself as Portia’s pistol finished smoking. Without breaking eye contact with him, she flipped the protective shield and pressed the first switch releasing the five cars behind the bar car from the main train. “One…Two…Three…Four…Five…Six,” she counted, then pushed the second button. The floor boards shook from the force of the blast. “For the sake of your ego, we can call that a tie, but we both know that isn’t the case,” she joked with him, trading the glass in his hand with the used detonator. “You’re lucky that I do want a reason to wear that new dress,” she started before finishing off his drink in one quick shot. “You can pick me up at 8. Also, following the fucking plan next time.”