something struck a metallic object.
"-fuel truck."
There was a long silence. When the pain in his eyes had lessened from a murderous burning to a dull ache, Ferris dared to gather himself up. His vision was a blurry collection of grey shapes and black shadows.
"You a pilot?" The voice startled him and Ferris jerked. "What's your name?"
"Uh, yeah. When I can see, I am. I'm Ferris, just Ferris."
"This your ship, Ferris?"
"I think so. Registration number 1138 on the hull..."
A strong arm clamped around his elbow. "This way." Ferris let himself be guided, feeling the decking of the strato-shuttle beneath his feet as he was led on board. He blinked. He could make out the shape of a man, dark against the light from the port floods. Just one guy? He could have sworn he heard more than one voice...
The airlock slammed shut and the decontam process began, detergent spray spitting over the pair of them. Ferris removed his helmet and rubbed at his raw eyes. "Who are you? What did you do out there?"
"I need a ride to San Diablo and you look like you need to get out of town quick. Figured one good turn deserves another."
"Uh-huh." Now on familiar ground, Ferris fumbled his way by touch to a medi-kit on the wall and recovered an analgesic spray. He jetted puffs of vapour into his weeping eyes and blinked furiously. The pilot looked up at his erstwhile saviour. "Ah, crap. Your little lightshow's screwed up my vision. I've gone colour-blind!"
Rogue sighed. "No, you haven't. I'm always like this."
"But your skin is-" Ferris's brain caught up with his mouth and he gaped. "Blue. Your skin is blue." He swallowed hard. "You're that GI... The Rogue Soldier, or something..."
"Eh?" said Gunnar. "Why do we have to go through this every time we meet someone? Next he's gonna say 'Holy Skev! Your gun can talk!'."
Ferris shook his head as he made his way through the shuttle's interior, as if that would dispel the phantom of the Genetic Infantryman. He'd heard of the deserter - hell, everyone on Nu Earth had heard the tale of the lone gene-freak stalking the war zones - but it was almost too surreal for it... for him to come out of the darkness and pull Ferris's backside out of the fire. "I gotta sit down for a second."
"We don't have time for this," said a new voice, calling over Rogue's shoulder from his backpack. "We need to get airborne now, before those Mili-Fuzz creeps wake up."
Ferris glanced out the cockpit window and saw the sprawled forms of the MPs on the landing pad. A couple of them sported broken limbs. He blinked again.
"How about it?" asked Rogue. "Can you see straight? Can you get this thing in the air?"
"No," Ferris replied, running through the pre-flight check with quick, deft movements, "but that never stopped me before." In the heart of the shuttle, the thruster array went live and ignited. The pilot switched off the radio chatter streaming from Pitt City traffic control and grasped the throttle and joystick. "You better strap in, GI."
Rogue leapt into a seat and tugged a restraint harness tight over his chest, then a lead cushion of G-force pressed into him, as the strato-shuttle thundered into the night sky.
Ferris used the cover of a chem-storm to mask their flight over the no-man's-land near the Ash Wastes and dropped the transport down to treetop level - or what would have been treetop level if there had been any trees down below. His eyesight gradually returned, leaving him with just a mild headache and the gut-sick sensation of an adrenaline comedown. He glanced at the trooper.
"So. San Diablo, huh? What's the big rush to get there?"
The GI didn't look up from the digi-pad that held his attention. "Someone I know needs my help."
"Oh yeah? What's his name?" Ferris could just about see the image of another GI on the screen.
"Not sure yet."
"You know that city's swarming with Norts, right? I mean, I'm a civilian. I could probably make it in okay on my own, but you... They'll waste you the second they
"-fuel truck."
There was a long silence. When the pain in his eyes had lessened from a murderous burning to a dull ache, Ferris dared to gather himself up. His vision was a blurry collection of grey shapes and black shadows.
"You a pilot?" The voice startled him and Ferris jerked. "What's your name?"
"Uh, yeah. When I can see, I am. I'm Ferris, just Ferris."
"This your ship, Ferris?"
"I think so. Registration number 1138 on the hull..."
A strong arm clamped around his elbow. "This way." Ferris let himself be guided, feeling the decking of the strato-shuttle beneath his feet as he was led on board. He blinked. He could make out the shape of a man, dark against the light from the port floods. Just one guy? He could have sworn he heard more than one voice...
The airlock slammed shut and the decontam process began, detergent spray spitting over the pair of them. Ferris removed his helmet and rubbed at his raw eyes. "Who are you? What did you do out there?"
"I need a ride to San Diablo and you look like you need to get out of town quick. Figured one good turn deserves another."
"Uh-huh." Now on familiar ground, Ferris fumbled his way by touch to a medi-kit on the wall and recovered an analgesic spray. He jetted puffs of vapour into his weeping eyes and blinked furiously. The pilot looked up at his erstwhile saviour. "Ah, crap. Your little lightshow's screwed up my vision. I've gone colour-blind!"
Rogue sighed. "No, you haven't. I'm always like this."
"But your skin is-" Ferris's brain caught up with his mouth and he gaped. "Blue. Your skin is blue." He swallowed hard. "You're that GI... The Rogue Soldier, or something..."
"Eh?" said Gunnar. "Why do we have to go through this every time we meet someone? Next he's gonna say 'Holy Skev! Your gun can talk!'."
Ferris shook his head as he made his way through the shuttle's interior, as if that would dispel the phantom of the Genetic Infantryman. He'd heard of the deserter - hell, everyone on Nu Earth had heard the tale of the lone gene-freak stalking the war zones - but it was almost too surreal for it... for him to come out of the darkness and pull Ferris's backside out of the fire. "I gotta sit down for a second."
"We don't have time for this," said a new voice, calling over Rogue's shoulder from his backpack. "We need to get airborne now, before those Mili-Fuzz creeps wake up."
Ferris glanced out the cockpit window and saw the sprawled forms of the MPs on the landing pad. A couple of them sported broken limbs. He blinked again.
"How about it?" asked Rogue. "Can you see straight? Can you get this thing in the air?"
"No," Ferris replied, running through the pre-flight check with quick, deft movements, "but that never stopped me before." In the heart of the shuttle, the thruster array went live and ignited. The pilot switched off the radio chatter streaming from Pitt City traffic control and grasped the throttle and joystick. "You better strap in, GI."
Rogue leapt into a seat and tugged a restraint harness tight over his chest, then a lead cushion of G-force pressed into him, as the strato-shuttle thundered into the night sky.
Ferris used the cover of a chem-storm to mask their flight over the no-man's-land near the Ash Wastes and dropped the transport down to treetop level - or what would have been treetop level if there had been any trees down below. His eyesight gradually returned, leaving him with just a mild headache and the gut-sick sensation of an adrenaline comedown. He glanced at the trooper.
"So. San Diablo, huh? What's the big rush to get there?"
The GI didn't look up from the digi-pad that held his attention. "Someone I know needs my help."
"Oh yeah? What's his name?" Ferris could just about see the image of another GI on the screen.
"Not sure yet."
"You know that city's swarming with Norts, right? I mean, I'm a civilian. I could probably make it in okay on my own, but you... They'll waste you the second they
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