The Mechanic

It was the center of his entire world and he hated it. A vein of some strange metallic ore twisted into a mockery of a long extinct tree. The “Killer Angels” had first been attracted to it because they thought it was something to be salvaged, but even back then it mocked him. There was nothing that could cut it, and he had tried. Saw blades, cutting torches, even demo charges. Not even a scratch. Then it became a symbol of their band’s strength and resistance to the elements of Necromunda.

Once Halleck had discovered the ruins of that crash landed drop ship his fate was forever sealed to that thing. Within the hulk they discovered scores of vehicles and spare parts. There was no way Halleck would walk away from such a find and he established what he called a way-station. You got it, right at the base of that… thing. Since then he had barely traveled more than a half a kilometer from that visage of metal. Buggies, trucks, and even a walker all hung from that “tree” like marionettes – all of them in some state of disrepair.

His latest challenge was a two-seater buggy, and of course the owners just had to have it yesterday. The rear axle had been knocked at such an angle as to cause it to continually pull to the left. Its roll cage had been caved in just above a pile of bloody goop in the “gunner” seat (he had know it was a gunner’s station by the pintle mount now smashed). And to top it off the engine had seized. They couldn’t have discovered a batch of electrical motors – no! But like a craftsman he had put it back together and now it only needed one last piece.

Picking up a mesh of respirator’s that had been jury rigged into some sort of air filter he set to the task of mounting it to the engine. Once the last bolt was in place he stood up and reached into the crew area. Hitting the starter button the engine roared to life spewing a cloud of black smoke. That’s when the urge hit him. Jump in and take it for a test run out on the dunes, no body would miss him for a few hours.

As he lifted his leg to slip into the driver’s seat a small truck raced in and slid to a stop only a meter from his boots.

“Gunder! She’s took a round to right rear axle. Think you could have it fixed in a day or so?”

He could almost hear the “tree” laugh at him as the winds blew through its boughs.