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They drive the buggies hard for another two hours before stopping at nine again for breakfast and their day’s rest. The adventurers have no trouble falling asleep after setting up camp and eating, being a bit exhausted from the exertions of the past 24 hours on low sleep.
At about 3:15 in the afternoon, the proximity alarm goes off. Instead of politely announcing the time in a neutral voice with a tasteful chime, the sound of a blaring klaxon fills the air with a stern voice announcing, “INTRUDER ALERT! INTRUDER ALERT!” Warner is up almost immediately, his rifle at the ready, and he begins firing on the advancing bandits after taking just a few seconds to wipe the sleep out of his eyes.
Phyr and Vector take somewhat longer, but perk up once they see Warner hard at work, and they begin shooting in the same direction. Pannych stirs fitfully, but finally registers what’s going on, and looks around to assess the situation. She sees a group of perhaps two dozen bandits charging headlong across the deadzone, pistols drawn and blades waving in the air, as her three companions fire relentlessly upon them. But in the opposite direction are two dozen more, taking no fire from the group and closing fast. She casts Hide and hopes for the best, then a log stands in her place and she is gone from everyone’s view.
Vector and Warner are each on a knee, firing shot after shot. Vector fires somewhat faster, hitting about four of every five shots in the general torso area, trying to focus on killing one target before moving on to the next. Warner only misses one shot of every eight, and is aiming for the lower body, seeking to disable their legs and then immediately switching targets. Phyr is blasting into the crowd, standing with feet squared and gripping Righty in both hands, but he misses much more often than he hits - what’s worse, the shots that do land only catch one or two more guys in the splash, spread out as they are in an advancing line.
After he has emptied both blasters, he recharges the one in hand and resumes firing. The time it takes allows the bandits to get closer, but that works to his advantage: at about forty yards out, they’re still outside his effective range, but now he can at least aim well enough at the ground to catch them with the splash and knock them off their feet, making the riflemen’s job that much easier. As the last few fall to the storm of bullets, lasers, and plasma, they hear the crack of a pistol from behind them, and Phyr takes 16 damage from a surprise shot to the back.
He wheels around to see eight bandits crossing the camp, running at full speed. He takes four more bullets to the chest, only doing 4 damage apiece, and then he casts Chill with his left hand in a low cone. The bandits stumble and fall, their legs suddenly numbed, and he blasts them to pieces while Warner and Vector finish off the others. Then in the distance, they see a cloud of smoke and the commotion of battle.
Not wanting to shoot Pannych by mistake, the trio charge out to the melee. As they near, the smoke cloud is dissipating to reveal Pannych amid four last bandits, the five of them bloodied and flagging. She dives out from the fray, and reaches into her bag of tricks as they turn to advance on her, the faltering smoke cloud instantly disappearing. She throws another smoke bomb down at her feet, and in the same fluid motion does a turning dive roll to gain another five yards between them. A puff of smoke bursts upon the ground, and as she pops up on her feet again, she reaches into her bag of tricks once more. Just as the first bandit breaks through the smoke, she casts Hide and is then right behind the rearmost attacker as he enters the rising black cloud. She scoots back a half-step as she makes a tossing motion into the smoke cloud and readies Hawkmoth over her head. The bandit formerly in the lead, but now farthest, registers the log and then turns to head back into the smoke. One by one, they emerge from the cloud, stepping gingerly or hopping in pain on one foot - only to be cut and then kicked right back in. The smoke clears just enough for the gunmen to see the last of the four be sent backward with a doorbusting thrust kick, his body contorting wildly as he lands amid the spray of caltrops. Pannych then steps carefully to finish them off as they struggle to regain their feet.
The three guys draw up short just as she is hunching over to rest her hands on her knees, bloody sword still in hand. Small clusters of corpses zig-zag away from the camp, then a strung-out trail of single bodies crosses the remainder of the deadzone. “Hey, boys,” she says cheerily between heavy breaths. “I think I’m getting the hang of this!” The battle over, they each gain 16 XP.
Phyr heals Pannych with his healing ray before topping himself up, then they set about looting the bodies. They find nothing but standard weapons and the slashed & burned apparel they wore to the fight, with the exception of the odd canteen partially full of dirty water. Vector asks Warner, “How do you think they found us all the way out here?”
“Probably saw our dust cloud from high ground. Wouldn’t have been hard.” He steps from one bandit to another, then looks around thoughtfully. “Y’know, their gear is in reasonable shape, but these repairs are a bit slap-dash. So I’m willing to bet they have a camp, but not a big one.” He strokes his chin in thought, then adds, “This is too big for a scouting party, and they’re traveling too light for a raiding party. I think their camp is nearby, and they brought everything they had, hoping to overwhelm us and make a clean getaway.” He nods with an air of finality, then wanders off.
When the adventurers have finished packing up the camp, Warner approaches from the edge, his brow furrowed. “Looks like they came from the West, then half circled around to the North end, and the other half to the South end. Classic pincer, but the timing’s off - they knew we were resting, but the best time to hit us would have been eleven, or noon at the latest. That tells me they were in a hurry. My bet is, a lookout saw us from up high on a mesa thataway, then told the camp in the caves below, and they all hustled out here to try and catch us napping.”
“So if we follow their trail back,” Pannych suggests.
“We can probably find their camp, and any actual loot,” Phyr finishes.
“Would there even be a trail,” Vector asks.
“Fifty people can’t hide their passing,” Warner says. “And I think they expected an easy fight, seeing us traveling light and fast. We’re clearly not a trade caravan, and we’re not carrying any obvious shipment, so they probably clocked us as messengers, on account of how our counter-raids have been dropping off. Smart play on their part, just so happened they were dead wrong.”
After they get in the buggies, Warner drives slowly for a bit, to make sure he’s got the trail. Once it straightens and gives him a bearing, he guns it. Sure enough, as they reach the shadow of the mesas, they spot the mouth of a wide cave. They pull right up to it, knowing they won’t be able to disguise the sound of their approach, and ready their weapons before grouping up and heading in. It’s a simple ramiform cave, just one large cavern with no twisting paths or blind turns, leading gently down below the mesa. Such caves are uncountably numerous in these mesas, providing shelter for who knows how many people - but this one in particular is the one that’s along a straight path from the camp back down the attackers’ trail.
As they head down and peer into the darkness, they hear shuffling and stifled voices. Their eyes adjust fairly quickly, and deep in the cave they see a large group of children herded together by six women and two men of advanced age. One of the old women raises her hands and says loudly, “We surrender!” The foursome lower their weapons.
“Well, shit,” Phyr says. “Of course the bandits have families. What the Hell, Pan?”
“I’m just as surprised as you.”
“Whad’ja do with the kids and old folks when you found them on your week of raiding?”
“We really… didn’t,” she says. “They were much smaller camps.” She looks over the materials: stoves, food stores, and washing are out in the open, with tents placed on flat rocks or large blankets spread out on the ground. She sees no beasts of burden, and only a handful of hand-drawn carts. “This is a permanent settlement,” she says, a tinge of horror creeping into her voice.
“This part’s always hard,” Warner says with a sigh, “But these folks chose their way of life. And that’s all there is to it.”
“The kids didn’t,” Pannych says softly.
“Beg pardon?”
“The children. Did not. Choose this.”
Warner raises a plaintive hand and bows his head to say, “No, of course not - I mean that the bandits chose to have kids, knowing that something like this might happen in their line of work. It’s the parents’ fault, not the kids’; but their parents are responsible for whatever happens to them, not us.”
“Their parents are all dead,” Pannych says flatly.
“I’m aware of that, we killed them in self-defense less than an hour ago.”
“And the dead can’t take responsibility - so it falls to us.”
“Now how the Hell is that fair,” Warner blurts, turning to face her openly. “We don’t owe them anything! We didn’t even know they existed five minutes ago!”
“And now we do,” Pannych says firmly, facing him squarely. “The responsibility of their care still exists, and I don’t see anyone else around to take it up, do you?” Warner takes a deep breath, but only stares silently at her. “We’re responsible for our choices, no matter what choices others have made. Now we’ve got an unexpected and difficult decision to make, but I am not choosing cruelty to children who can’t help their circumstances.”
“So what are you proposing, then,” Warner asks, shouldering his rifle.
“Obviously we’re getting them back to Salinas,” Phyr says, holstering his blaster.
“Fuckin’ how, genius,” Warner asks.
“They have wagons, provisions, and legs,” Vector says. “It’ll be tough, but you can ride ahead and bring back a caravan to transport them.”
“All right,” Warner grumbles. “That’s… feasible. But then what? Our city’s stretched thin as it is, and you wanna take on more mouths to feed? You say you don’t wanna choose cruelty, but what about cruelty to our kids? A meal for any of these is a meal taken from one of ours.”
Pannych takes a deep breath and measures her words carefully, then says with petrifying calm, “If tens of thousands cannot make room for a couple dozen orphans, then your city is a lost cause, and we should have razed and sacked it.”
Warner pales briefly, then steels himself and says, “Are you threatening my city?”
“Absolutely not,” Pannych says, meeting his resolve. “I’m saying that your city has been pulled back from the brink of destruction by divine grace, and following that up with a miserly attitude toward innocents is not the way to show your gratitude.”
Warner softens and says, “All right. Fine. The children can be taken in. But these old folks, they’re no innocents - these are retired bandits. They didn’t get here by being kindly and nurturing.”
“We can’t very well turn the kids loose on a desert wilderness by themselves,” Vector says.
“And I’m under strict orders not to kill any more geriatrics in cold blood,” Phyr adds.
“Any… more?” Warner regards him with a look of reappraisal.
“They’re no threat to us now,” Pannych says, waving a hand to redirect the conversation and sheathing her blade. “But I bet they can be of use. Hey, you: guy.” She points at one of the old men, who points at himself with an inquisitive look. “Yeah, you. Looks like you sorta put down roots here, you ever do any trading with other settlements in these parts?” The old man nods apprehensively. “Think you could point any of ‘em out on a map, or guide a raiding party out that way?”
The old man swallows hard, evidently considering something as he looks to his peers. They shrug, and he takes a deep breath before speaking. “We could do ya one better: if you’ll take us in, pardon our crimes, an’ care for our young, then we can show you to Kleptopoliton.”
The adventurers look to Warner, who is flabbergasted, then skeptical. “Just like that,” he says, “You’d take us to the legendary city of thieves?”
“They done us wrong. Kicked us out. Now they pay.”
Warner takes this on board, then turns to Pannych and says, “All right, fine - but not every harmless retired bandit is gonna willingly give up the location of Kleptopoliton!”
“Not the point,” Pannych says. “The point is that everyone’s got something to offer, and if you write people off then you won’t know what you’re losing. And that’s just the selfish motivation - it also happens to be the right thing to do. So, y’know, there’s that.”
Warner grumbles his assent, and they coordinate a plan to get the people to Salinas.
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