Casey's Predicament [OPEN]

[casey]

Casey smiled thinly at the Sergeant's words and heard her movements, which sounded a mite stiff to him, as she cleared her gun's jam and reloaded it. Maybe he should see how badly hurt she was? But Hell, he wasn't a doctor and she probably wouldn't trust him enough to try and help her anyway.

Instead he shrugged and said, grimly, “I've smelled worse. I just can't remember when.”

But he really could, of course. Those seven weeks of Hell he'd gone through almost inured one to the stench of death in all its stages but he wasn't going to give anyone the satisfaction of thinking that it got to him.

His revolver was reloaded and he slipped it into its holster before stooping and gripping the hind legs of the coyote closest to the cave entrance. Tensing his body he hauled backwards, dragging the corpse slowly out of the cave.

“Gou niang yang de! This thing weighs a ton,” he grumbled as he reached the edge of the slope and tipped the body over, letting it slither down to the sand below. Returning to the cave he slipped his knife from its sheath and glanced over at the Purple Belly as he knelt by the second corpse.

“You hungry?” he asked as he started to skin, or at least partially skin, the coyote – just enough to cut off a nice steak or two.

[casey]

Casey cut off two prime steaks from the coyote, dropping them onto a rock against the cave wall. He then dragged the body outside to let it slide down to its mate before re-entering and glancing across at the Alliance Sergeant. She was still slumped against the cave wall, holding her rifle across her chest but with her eyes closed. That she was still alive he could tell by the sound of her labored breathing and the slight movements of her body. But she appeared to be, as medics would have it, unresponsive. He shook his head and reached down for the third carcase, dragging it out, sliding it down to join its pack mates, and then slipping down behind it.

Moving a few yards away from the rock face Casey dug a large, but shallow, pit and slid all three dead animals into it before covering them with sand. Scuffing the surface of the grave he hoped that he had hidden all signs of anything having been buried there, at least from a casual observer. The last thing he wanted was for Patience or her cronies to find them here. He knew that Patience had no love for the Alliance and that the Sergeant, in her weakened state, wouldn't last long at all against the old Matriach's less-than-tender mercies and he, himself? – well, Patience would like as not have him singing soprano before he succumbed to the everafter. That was not something he relished. Then there was the Sergeant's team, if they were still alive and still planetside. He couldn't see them being overly merciful if they found him with their leader in the condition she was in.

“Ta ma de. Tianxia suoyoude ren dou gaisi.” he muttered as he sprinkled sand over the blood-stained ground, “How the guai do I get into these scrapes?”

Satisfied with his cover up he scrambled back towards the cave, pausing at the entrance and hissing, “It's me! I'm comin' in”, to warn the sergeant, if she was still alive and alert that, well, it was him.

[casey]

Casey waited a few seconds but there was no reply to his 'warning'. With mounting apprehension he entered the cave and crouched in the entrance letting the limited ambient light from outside illuminate the interior slightly. The Sergeant was still slumped against the wall but he didn't know if she was alive or dead. He inched slowly towards her, hoping he didn't startle her into taking a pot shot at him but – hell, why would she? She'd had plenty of time to off him had that been her plan and she hadn't so – she had to be dead. Or unconscious. Or something.

“You OK, darlin'?” he said softly. After a few seconds of waiting for a reply he inched even closer to her and reached out with one hand, resting his fingers lightly against her neck. OK, she had a pulse, a little thready but strong enough. He snatched his hand back and shook his head. One thing he didn't want was for her goons to find him with her in this condition, or for patience to find him – period. All right, that was two things but they would both have the same outcome and that would not be much fun for Mrs Casey's little boy.

OK, light a fire? Stupid idea, the glow would attract as many two-legged scavengers as it would repel four-legged ones.

“Weishenme shi wo?” he groaned as he glared at the uncommunicative Purple Belly.

Squatting back on his heels he sighed and said, softly, “Look, darlin', I can't be stayin' here. If you don't make it an' your boys happen along my life ain't gonna be worth a stale bao an' I know for sure it's worth more'n that. I figure you'll be fine until they find ya an' if I see 'em first I'll tell 'em where you're at. Best I can do, 'k?”

He got to his feet and looked down at the soldier. “Zhu yi, darlin',” he muttered before slipping silently out of the cave.

[casey]

Casey slithered down the rockface onto the sand and stopped. His hand slid to the butt of his revolver and ensured it was loose in its holster before reaching up to tilt his hat back on his head. Glancing back at the cave mouth he grimaced.

“Aiya! You're getting soft, Casey,” he muttered, “for one thing, she's a big girl, for another thing, she's a Purple Belly, and for another – 'nother thing, she's got folks here who're like as not lookin' for her an' it'd be in your best interests to not be found near her in the condition she's in.”

Casey snorted before looking around.

“North, south, east, or west?”

Well, Casey didn't have a clue which way was which and, as far as he was concerned, one way was as good as another as long as it didn't lead anywhere near Patience at which time it'd cease to be a good way to go – so he picked a direction and started to walk with an easy, ground-eating stride, his boots making nary a sound in the fine sand and his ears alert to any sounds that may herald a change in his plans.

[casey]

It seemed as if Casey had been walking for several hours but, by his reckoning, barely one hour must have passed since he left the Alliance Sergeant in the cave. Having no idea where he was in relation to – anywhere he stopped and looked up at the night sky. It didn't help, he still had no inkling as to where he was but, having stood still, he was able to hear a sound that he may have missed had he kept walking. It was the low murmur of voices coming from a rock formation to his right.
Frowning Casey inched silently towards the voices until he was able to understand the words. Crouching in deep shadow he listened for a while.

First Voice: “... do to get yourself sent out here?”
Second Voice: (petulantly) “Yeah, I was off duty tonight but hell, I came out for a smoke and I did hear it!”
First Voice: “Huh! You told the Sergeant you heard what sounded like a battalion-strength attack is what I heard?”
Second Voice: “Bendan! I told the sergeant that I heard gunshots from over that way. I just figured we should go out and...”
Third Voice: (authorative) “Quiet out there! Gorman, you keep it up and you'll be pulling night duty until you forget what the sun looks like.”

A sigh and a snicker ended the conversation and Casey sat back on his heels, pondering. The voices sounded military and that meant Alliance or Mercenary forces. But here? Well, why not here? Casey had no idea where here was other than Whitefall and there were rumors.

Blue Sun? Alliance Outpost? Mercenary Camp? Whatever it was Casey wanted nothing to do with them so he silently slipped back into the night and continued in his original direction.

[Sgt. Francesca Vaille]

It was possible she might've heard something. In her semi-unconscious state, Fran had drifted off into some strange dreams. Also some gou shi she didn't fancy reliving any time soon. Even the lingering smell of dead coyote apparently refused to rouse her. That probably wasn't the most amazing thing she should've done, but it's what happened. Fran had taken too much punishment that day. Shot at, crashed. Not the best, but not the worst, either. War wasn't too pretty on her side neither. Not all Alliance posts had been sunshine, rainbows and an abundance of shiny supplies. They had made do, and were somewhat more fortified at times. Bigger odds, too. Numbers. That's all they'd had, really. Browncoats had had this kind of spirit to them. A guile and stubbornness that Vaille had begrudgingly respected. Although didn't like to show or admit to it. I mean, Independent vets and affiliates still spat on her boots. The dream she was currently having was pretty much a mixture of what she'd witnessed awake and some past stuff that usually tends to crop up amongst those times. Nightmarish, shadowy creatures lurking about on a battlefield. Ragged, spiked fur and glowing eyes. Gunshots, blood and what-have-you. When she finally jolted herself into being awake, bleary eyes peered about in a daze-- confused. Fran took the moment to try and recall everything. Something. It all trickled back into her mind slowly; groggily. Her head was pounding. Fingers were still clutched around her weapon. The chase, the crash, and then the coyotes. Eyes blinked and glanced around the cave. Casey. Yep, he'd gone. Ran off, most likely. Part of Fran didn't really blame him for rabbiting. Vaille was Alliance-- she was most definitely gonna be rescued. Or at least she'd better be or everyone on her patrol boat was gonna get their asses kicked from one bulkhead to the other. They were all a team after all. Never abandoned each other. Vaille would never leave any of her own behind.

So out in the night? Somewhere a little too far from the Mercs/Soldiers or whoever they were, and too far from Fran's position in the cave, there was an Alliance Patrol Boat sitting by the side of a mountain. Just, you know, chillin' there. A handful of figures were outside. A few lights from under the ship illuminating them softly.

"We should wait until it's light. Can't search in this dark. We'll be here for hours-- and we already have been." Male voice. Kinda young, or just not that deep.

"If you wanna wait on the ship, Temple, be my guest. You ain't known the Sarge 'long as me. We're not stoppin'." Deeper voice this time, kind of smooth like scotch was burning his throat.

Another voice piped up-- female this time. She appeared to be the mediator between them, "Temple might be right. Sarge is tough. It'll take us even longer and it might be too late by--"

"May already be too late, Gia. We've had no radio contact. That's a bad sign."

"Enough chat, okay? Let's get back to it." The soldier at the front had been silent the whole conversation until now. There was something off about him. The quiet staring into the distance unnerving. The others peered amongst themselves as he started to walk off into the sands. Just walked. Slight muttering began amongst them.

"Y'know... DeSoto ain't been the same since--"

"I know. Let's just get moving." The armed Alliance soldiers slowly get back to their search, following along the base of the small, rocky mountain rising up.

[casey]

When Casey was certain he was out of earshot of whoever the voices belonged to he stopped and hunkered down on the sand. Digging his fingers into the ground and sifting the grains slowly between them he shook his head, wondering how anyone could have likened the few bursts of fire from the Sergeant's gun and a couple shots from his own revolver as anything remotely resembling a company let alone a battalion. That lu pigu had one active imagination. Still, he was glad that they'd been talking or he'd have walked right into them. He knew there were at least three of them, maybe more, and stumbling onto them in the darkness would not have been a good thing. One thing was sure, they weren't Patience's goons but that only meant there was probably one more player in the game that he needed to shy clear of.

"Yuan shangdi bangzhu wo," he muttered, "I wish I was most anywhere but here right about now. On the one hand there's a Purple Belly who may or mayn't be dead an' if she ain't she might be a tad upset with me for walkin' out on her an' on top of that her team is all footloose an like as not seekin' her out, an' on the other hand there's a bunch of talkative someone's or other who're thinkin' there's a new invasion comin' down, an' on the other," he looked down at his two hands and grinned ruefully, "-- other hand there's Patience somewhere, hopefully, far, far away from where I'm at right this moment. Things just couldn't be better."

He sighed deeply and stood up again, continuing on his way after sparing a glance behind him to see that the soft, but inexorable, wind had already filled in his footprints. That was good in one respect, no-one would be able to follow him -- but bad in another as he would never be able to retrace his course.

Sighing deeply once again Casey cursed, "Wo te laomai yi gai go se!"

[Sgt. Francesca Vaille]

The small squad of friendly neighbourhood Purplebellies continued on their little desperate patrol to find the lost Sergeant. DeSoto was out front. The guy was tall and lanky, still with this air of youth clinging to him. Blonde hair, brown eyes. He'd been the ' young, nervous Corporal ' for a good while when the little squad was formed. Always trying to make peace and do right by everyone. Now? An incident not too long ago has left the whole team a little shaken-- well, the remainder of the old squad. Vaille, DeSoto, Jensen and Calixto have had a few sleepless nights over it. Temple and Dallas were newer recruits. Picked up when Fran was given the Patrol Boat for a few runs on the Border. Jensen was your tall, dark and imposing kind. Sharp, angular face with this rather stern look about it. Dark hair, dark eyes, beard. It was clear he'd pulled a lot of the weight around the second-in-command, and hence his promotion. DeSoto was still Fran's second, but Jensen had proven too much that he was a capable soldier under pressure. Calixto was an army brat who'd been conceived and then born in a Gorram military base. A good kid, though. She knew her orders and took them to the letter-- and still maintained this small, rebellious streak. But-- enough about the team, right? Safe to say they appeared to be getting closer and closer to Casey's position. Taking careful notice of their surroundings. There was a noise-- most probably an animal of some kind-- that caused the four soldiers to snap their flash-lights around. There were plenty worse things out in these sands and it was obvious they were trying to avoid an incident.

"Someone out there?" DeSoto called cautiously, his voice somewhat level and even-toned.

"No sudden movements. No need for violence, either." That low tone sounded out, Jensen adding under his breath, "Less of course there is a need..."

It could've been a person, or just the trick of the light around them. Hell, it could've been a buzzard asleep on a cactus for all they knew. Maybe it was those mercenaries from down the way a piece on patrol. Or Patience's own men. In a hissed whisper, Temple saw fit to pipe up with another possibility.

"Sarge? Sarge is that you?" Would never be that easy, would it?

Calixto hit the man on the bicep with a frown, muttering an ' idiot ' under her breath before shoving him back into position.

[casey]

Casey was lost. He'd been walking for several hours hours and he had no idea if he was even still going in the same direction as he was when he set out from the cave. The cave – he'd been a fool to leave it at night – he'd been a fool to go into it in the first place. Hell, he'd been a fool to argue with the skipper and get himself marooned here. OK, so he'd established that he was a fool, a gorram idiot, but what was he going to do about it?

As he thought, and silently berated himself, Casey continued to walk slowly and, very nearly, silently across the wind-swept desert, navigating the dunes – oh yeah, it was the dunes that were getting him lost. He couldn't focus on any kind of landmark because of them and he was convinced he was going around in ever decreasing circles. Ta ma de! But he would almost be glad to see someone, anyone, even Patience – well, maybe not Patience, but someone. Even if it was someone he didn't like, or who didn't like him, even if it was someone who wanted to kill him, like Patience – Aiya!! No, not like Patience – Patience wasn't going to just kill him, she was going to hurt him bad first.

"Someone out there?"

The voice called out, cautious sounding but even and, as soon as he heard it, Casey hunkered down behind the dune he was following and very, very quietly slipped his revolver from its holster. Holding it ready in his right hand he elected not to it yet, pulling back the hammer made a sound and Casey really wanted to be quiet right about now.

He strained for more sounds and heard a low murmur, but wasn't able to hear the words. Go se! Was there only one of them talking to himself? Or was there an army out there?

"Sarge? Sarge is that you?" a loud whisper followed the muttering.

Shi niao! Casey thought, I was only joking about seeing anyone out here, I like it out here alone. And now! Now it's like Chunjie in Capital City.

OK, odds are this is the Purple Belly Sergeants team, unless the Sergeant who was berating that shuo wen had suddenly gotten his fool self lost. Whichever it was, and while they were preferable to Patience and her goons, Casey still wasn't sure he wanted to meet them.

But –

Ah gorram it all to hell and gone. That Sergeant could've popped a cap in him at any time while she was conscious but she didn't. So, she was Alliance and Casey had a problem with the Alliance but she was hurt. And she wasn't getting any better, of that he could almost be sure. But if he made his presence known then these hundan might just take it into their fool heads to shoot first and screw the questions.

He rested his back against a small rock jutting from the sand and frowned as he tried to decide what to do.

Did he owe her anything? Cao no!

But had she done him any harm? Not as far as he knew.

But then again, they had a way off this rock and he needed a ride.

Casey lightly thumped his forehead and took a tighter grip on his revolver before looking up at the starlit sky and shaking his head at his own stupidity.

“Your Sergeant ain't here, but she's hurtin' pretty bad. She's all busted up. I might be able to help you find her.”

As soon as he had finished talking he quietly shifted position to try to make it harder for them to pinpoint him, especially in the dark.

[Sgt. Francesca Vaille]

The fact they were Alliance probably gave the unknown reason enough to hide. The firepower they were packing probably more than a little disconcerting, but with the local old bu huihen de pofu practically being-- regrettably-- the local 'law' out in the middle of no and where on this rock, even these boys and girls of the great Alliance couldn't be too careful. Especially them, in fact. What's worse than strangers on your doorstep? Alliance in your territory. Probably the reason why Temple had received the knock against the plates on his shoulder. Jensen was still up front, taking point as he pulled away and stalked towards the sound of the disturbance. That was about when Casey had finished his internal battle over right, wrong, good and bad ideas. It would be unclear if this was a wise choice from his end, but the words had Purplebelly faces lighting up with wide eyes.

"Wait, what? You saw Sergeant Vaille? Aiya!" Jensen exclaimed, deep voice grinding out smoothly over the dunes. His flashlight, and the rest of the squad's own, had been snapped in the direction of the voice, just barely missing him. They were, of course, wary for this revelation. Could be a trick or a ransom attempt. But, as the words sank in, they sounded less sinister. All they wanted was for Vaille to be returned safely.

DeSoto stepped forward, eyes narrowed suspiciously into the dark. It was still his command until Vaille was found and proved alive-- a duty he would never take lightly. No longer a green-around-the-gills or wet-behind-the-ears recruit.

"She's alive, though?" The relief in his eerily calm tone was evident, and he'd motion the squad closer to Jensen. His own weapon lowered while theirs didn't.

"Usually I'd follow some kind of protocol and grill you with questions but-- lead the way."

Jensen spoke up once again, still trying to pin the man down with the light on his weapon.

"If this is a trick or a trap, or if she's dead-- or you're the one responsible for this-- so help me Buddha I'll--"

"Jensen. Stand down."

Enver shot the taller blonde, Nolan, with a look. They'd been in this squad the longest, and for the longest he'd disliked the younger man's higher position. However, nowdays there was begrudging respect. A grumbled, unintelligable response left the soldier as he motioned for Casey to come out of hiding.

"No shooting on your end, no shooting on our end."

Shame the end to the war hadn't been that simple, right?

[casey]

Casey sighed softly and shook his head as he slowly and quietly inched along the base of the dune, keeping it between him and the bright flashlight. First rule: Keep your trap shut... for at least three reasons – 1, keep talkin' an' the bad guys can move and you ain't gonna hear 'em when they flank you; 2, keep talkin' an' the bad guys can pinpoint your position an' call down a whole storm of sh... passel of trouble... on you; 3, talkin' too much is usually a sign of nervousness an' no-one likes to be around a nervous gun.

Aiya! These are Alliance? How in the forty shades of Hell did they win when they can't even stay quiet long enough to hear him out and, on top of that, the veiled threats from the one mouthpiece – Jensen? – wasn't likely to win 'em any points? Maybe one day he'd catch that megaphone alone and see just who was better at – protocol.

OK, so they want no shootin' on either end, huh? Well sure, there was like to be more of them than Casey had shells in his slug thrower so he weren't like to be able to outshoot 'em an', as the revolver was his only weapon, he sure as heck couldn't outgun 'em. Still, he had somethin' they wanted an' they just might trade that off for a ride out of here.

Having crept to one side of the team of Purple Bellies as, he assumed, they were likely to be focusing on the direction of the lights beam, which was pointing at where he used to be, not where he was now, Casey holstered his revolver. Standing slowly he held his hands out slightly to his sides, not too far and surely close enough to be able to clear his holster and return a couple of shots that may find a target if they decided to renege. His knees slightly bent, ready to throw himself in any direction that he hoped would be away from any flying lead if they DID decide to try and mow him down, he spoke softly, “Buddha ain't like to help you, but I just might.”

[Sgt. Francesca Vaille]

Jensen had been set on following the man and had not stopped searching with his beam as it landed on the general area Casey's voice had come from beyond that dune. There was a part of this eating away at him like it was some kind of trap. The man possibly a decoy whilst his raider friends surrounded the foolish Purplebellies looking for their lost leader. It made him uneasy-- almost twitchy. And yet DeSoto was already standing at ease with his weapon latched onto the strap on his armour. One hand rested on it, but there was no sign of him wielding it. This made Jensen even more unhappy with this situation. It was a big risk to the team's security. And they didn't even know this was one man with one gun. But it was, and they were still fools to just lay all their trust on him. DeSoto was in-charge, however, and he was handling it quite well.

When Casey spoke again, and this time from another direction, the young Corporal had merely twisted his way, whilst Jensen had snapped his weapon around. Almost instinctively, DeSoto motioned for him once again to calm down. He could give in to his bravado later. Whatever desire to see someone pay for Vaille's current fate would go unsatisfied.

"That's all we need. Just want to find her." He'd step forwards, closer to where Casey's form was mostly a shadow in the night-time dark. Assuming he moved to lead them, DeSoto would fall into step beside him.

"If she's alive when we get there, we might even give you a finder's fee." Temple joked dryly. Some mild sarcasm there.

"Can it, Private." The second Corporal added, a slightly tense strain to his deep voice.

"You'll be cleanin' the head for a week at this rate, Temple."

"You too, Calixto. Stow it."

The other soldiers descended into silence, and DeSoto turned his impassive expression on their unfortunate guide.

"So how bad was she? Conscious? And how did you manage to find her?" They'd probably get to the 'why the hell are you out here in the first place?' question later. So much for DeSoto's lack of 'grilling'. He was still the same by-the-book guy as ever. All talk.

[casey]

Casey stood loose-limbed and watchful. His hands never moved, but his eyes did, flicking from one shape to the other against the glare of the flashlight. He truly wished the mouthpiece would turn it off. For one thing, he'd be able to get a better view of what he was up against, and for another thing, if there was anyone else out here – anyone he really, really didn't want to meet again, that beam was leading them right towards him. Still, his right hand remained tensed and ready to flick towards his revolver's grip at a split seconds notice. He hoped these people didn't force his hand, no pun intended, because if they did somebody was likely to die and, the way his luck seemed to be running lately, Casey would have bet on himself being one of them.

He shook his head and sighed softly, something he seemed to be doing a lot of lately. Locking his eyes on the dark roundness of the speaker's face, giving the impression that he was able to actually see the features, he said, “She's in bad shape but I've seen folk survive worse. Dunno if she's conscious or not, she was driftin' in an' out when I left her.”

He furrowed his brow. Damn, he was talkin' too much, just like these Purple Bellies. Still, get it out of the way now and he might be able to have a quiet trek back to the cave.

“Seems the fella she was set to take care of saved everyone a job. Named a crater after hisself when he slammed into the ground. Trouble was, she was with him. I guess he didn't make it, but she did. Holed herself up in a cave. I walked in on her an' – well, I left after the fight.”

Let them make of that what they will. They needed him more than he needed them.

He nodded once and with a curt, "Shut that gorram light off," he turned his back on them, slowly backtracking on himself and doing his damndest to go in the right direction – and he thought he was – maybe.

[casey]

Casey's body was loose-limbed as he walked across the shifting, whispering sands, but he felt a prickle down his spine as he anticipated a gun butt slamming into the back of his head, or a bullet smashing his spine and, when neither of those events occurred, he relaxed – a little. The Purple Bellies seemed to be fairly adept at their job, once they were given – what? Hope? Yes, the hope of finding their leader alive and, to be honest, Casey also hoped to find her alive or he didn't give his chances of walking away a very high score. Not that he would go down quietly, or alone, but he was certain that if push came to shove he'd be the one getting shoved.

He could hear the 'team' following behind him, and he was certain he could hear whispering from them but, if it was whispering, it was low enough that he couldn't hear any words which meant it was unlikely that any prowler in the night would hear them, either.

After a while, sensing he had indeed been on the right track, Casey picked up the pace a little, not caring if they managed to keep up with him or not. He said he would lead them to their Sergeant, and he was doing just that. It was up to them to follow.

He steered a wide berth around the military? camp he'd passed earlier and walked, and walked and... there, that rock formation looked familiar. Wasn't that small mound all that remained of the coyote's burial site?

Approaching the incline he looked up, squinting a little, until he was certain he could see the darker outline of the cave mouth and then he squatted, just out of sight and sound of the sergeant's position, and waited for the Alliance team to catch up, if they were going to.

[casey]

Casey hunkered down on the sand and pondered. The 'lliance Sergeant should be fine now he'd brung her Team to her, always figurin' she was still there and hadn't been et by any more roaming coyotes. But even if she had, they couldn't blame him for that now, could they? Hell yeah, whether they could or not they would. Maybe it was time to take a powder again an' leave the 'lliance to themselves. Almost as silently as the wind-drifting grains of sand he was walking over Casey slipped deeper into the night's darkness. For sure dawn couldn't be far away and Casey wanted to be some distance away from here before the Purple Bellies could see him well enough to draw a bead on him. He silently wished the Sergeant good luck, she'd need it with some of those Team members as didn't know when to keep their yaps shut and take what help was offered without trying to rekindle the war with an attitude.

Shaking his head he drifted deeper into the gradually lightening desert, taking a different route than previously to make it harder for the soldiers to track him. It seemed that none of them had any kind of skills to do that in any case, leastaways not without some fancy equipment which they obviously didn't have or they wouldn't have needed his help to find their leader. Besides, they'd have their hands full with an injured Sergeant … too full to worry about where he'd gotten to.

Casey ruminated on what little he knew of Whitefall and that was very little. He did seem to recall a less-than-savory little township – and that was a grandiose name for a one-horse burg that probably wasn't even on a map and didn't have a name that anyone remembered except those who lived there, or needed to be there. And now he needed to be there and he sure as Hell couldn't remember the name. He did recall that the place was somewhere out West so that was the direction he now headed in. But with the way the day was slowly coming into being he was hoing to be mighty desperate for shelter soon enough. That was it, Desperation – the name of the hickville he was looking for. It had a small Pad that was used by those less-than-savory flyer's who wanted to fly below the RADAR and the only RADAR that was on this ball of rock was patiences and if anyone wanted to avoid her then they were OK in his book.
Walking through the dawn and into the morning Casey knew he needed to hole up but he sensed that his destination was close – just didn't figure how close close actually was, or wasn't, so he kept walking.

Shenqi, where was he? And where was this gorram town. Hell, he didn't even want the town, just the Pad with a small ship on it willing to take a fellow down on his luck off this devil-forsaken rock.

Casey clambered up another dune, over the top, down the other side, and up the next, over the top and – Shengtu zansong! There it was – Desperation, Whitefall, the most beautiful collection of ramshackle shacks and tents he'd ever seen.

And the Pad – he could see it and, by all that was holy, there was a ship sitting on it.

'All right, Casey', he told himself, 'take it easy, boy. Find out who it is afore you go blunderin' around and gettin' your fool self into worse trouble than you're already in.'


Shengtu zansong = Saints be praised, or Praise the Saints