[bosky]

Excerpt 6b
Without a full time position, Sunny was left with large expanses of free time to wander the trailers, talk with other passengers, and peacefully enjoy the view. Ned was seen less and less as the trip went on, preferring to learn as much as he could from Zinc. Like Sunny, the man had spent most of his time in arenas and had little practical highway experience. But unlike Sunny, the mechanic was eager to remedy this by questioning the veterans with a gush of inquiries.
Covering his face against the light, Sunny drifted to sleep to evade the doubt and guilt of laziness.

Pounding footfalls on the central walkway of The House shook him awake. His heart raced from the unexpected noise combined with the confusion of drowsiness. Unaccustomed to the corrugated walls and constant swaying of the vehicle, Sunny momentarily forgot where he was.
Tromping around the metal were children laughing and chasing each other. He sat back in the bunk, calming his temper.
"A little jumpy from the arena, eh?" The female voice was soothing and promised relaxation. Two rows down a blond, always a blond, smiled up at him.
Rolling onto his side Sunny grinned and pretended to grip a steering wheel. "Just can't let the thrill go, you know?"
"What got you into the sport?"
"Well my dad was a racer, the legit kind, back before autodueling was big." He shrugged, "It was natural for me."
The blond paused, as if expecting more from Sunny. "Oh, yeah? I did a derby match once...it was fun but hurt too much."
"Maybe you weren't doing it right," he smirked, a twinkle in his eye.
Shrapnel shattered into The House, blasting the life from the woman. Sunny's mouth opened to scream in surprise, but no sound escaped his throat. Sirens whined throughout the trailer. The walkway lit up and red lights flashed from either end. Intercoms crackled above him, "Zinc to crew, arm battle stations. Mark seven, wait...eight vehicles to left flank and rear."
Sunny's mind was paralyzed, but his body snapped to work like a tuned automobile. He bolted to the rear of the trailer and threw open the access port. Warm desert air gushed in, and lines of sunlight warmed his arms. Roaring engines passed on the left and right, barely audible through the thick joint armor.
Still reeling from the blond's sudden death, he threw his upper body into a cupola. Two crew members did the same beside him. Reinforced bracers fit firmly against his shoulders, and a targeting screen powered to life in front of him. Swinging his body moved a corresponding pair of autocannons near the front of The Trunk.
Sleek black vehicles raced past on either side like angry wasps. Sunny didn't recognize the chassis, but the vehicles looked closer to a rocket than a car. Slim barrels protruded from a rear turret on each attacker. Sunny could barely see the muzzle flash as they threw dense slugs at incredible speeds towards The Dragon.
"Now counting nine vehicles. Looks like recoilless rifles. Our armor should hold, but careful of The Kitchen." Still near the mic, Zinc thought out loud. "The radar didn't pick them up...dammit, it still doesn't."
Sunny could hear Ned's mumbling voice reverberate in the background, "They must have figured out some way to shield against it."
Calmly he steeled his nerves and pounding heart, reminding himself that The Dragon was nigh unstoppable. Tuning out background noise and visual distractions, Sunny focused only on the targeting screen. He wanted revenge for the blond, and revenge for the attack. But most of all he wanted revenge for bringing chaos to his peaceful trip.

Roaring he pulled both triggers. The autocannons responded with a louder roar and poured shells into the nearest vehicle. Sunny, shocked, saw bullets deflect off the target. "What the hell, my guns aren't doing anything."
The nearest crew member cast him a confused look, then shouted, "Metal armor." The man returned to his firing, but backed off the cupola for a second to say, "Where you from, boy?"
Embarrassed at his inexperience, Sunny mumbled, "Somewhere with rules." The thunder of autocannon fire mingled with screeching tires overpowered his response.
"Two down up front. Great shooting Tower!" Zinc's commanding voice visibly strengthened the crew, and they redoubled the defense.
Steam sizzled from the tips of Sunny's weapons as the watercooled guns tried to handle his rapid rate of fire. Unknown to the engrossed gunner, a mechanic had sidled up beside him to repair a charred panel. "Careful or you'll burn it out!" The man admonished him, shaking his head in frustration. Sunny flushed with anger at the comment. Again he was left feeling like a chump driving into his first amateur match, instead of a self declared conquerer of Div 10.
"Clearly the man is ignorant of my arena standing," Sunny thought, trying to prop his tattered ego up. He furiously unleashed on the nearest attacker instead of directing further rage at the mechanic. Swinging side to side, Sunny raked the vehicle with high caliber shells, trying to lower his aim away from the metal armor. The strategy paid off when the rear tires of his foe caught a shot. Instantly the rocket shaped car careened off the highway, flipping once it hit the desert.
"They can't handle for **** off the pavement!" he roared, hoping someone could relay the information to those that needed it.
Moments later the efficient crew of The Dragon proved themselves again. "Crew," Zinc said, "try to force them into the dirt. I'll swerve to keep them guessing, but aim low and get them to lose it."
Like an ant burrow, crew bustled to and fro within The Trunk. Buckets of ammo were deposited at each gunner's foot, fresh water was brought for the older autocannons, and any wounded were transported to the second trailer for immediate assistance. The scene replayed itself further up the semi-truck in The Tower. Rockets mingled with powerful anti-tank shells as The Dragon fought the attackers for every inch of pavement.
Two black shapes blurred by Sunny, then settled near The House. He aimed at the nearest, firing intermittently to prevent the barrel from melting. With a surprised yelp, he saw the other vehicle throw open a hatch and drift closer to the armored tires. An arm suited in black emerged from the opening and hoisted a grappling hook.
Before he could yell a rambling warning, the gunner to his left barked a curt order. "Boarding! Kitchen, left!" Immediately the daring car was pattered with shells from five autocannons. The exposed limb was torn apart in a cloud of blood. Sparks mingled with the red air as shots found their way into the internal cockpit.
The Dragon lifted off the ground as the damaged car skewed right into the rolling wheels. Sunny gritted his teeth and was nearly thrown from the cupola, but pained fingers held fast. The attacker passed out the back of the semi-truck as a mangled heap.
"Three targets remain." Crackling of plastic armor filled the intercom with static. "Say again, they're going for the cab. Ned, get on the-" the connection shorted, and Sunny could feel The Dragon swerve left.
The gunner beside him shouted again, "Brace for whiplash!" Sunny understood the implications of the command clearly enough, but wasn't sure what could cause whiplash. He learned a moment later as the semi-truck straightened, and three trailers of momentum snapped The Trunk back in line.
The lights flickered as electrical connections strained. Sunny felt warm blood dripping down his arm and figured he must have caught some falling object with his shoulder. As the trailer twisted his feet were lifted from the ground, and a wave of dizziness washed over him.
Finally The Dragon settled down, sending shudders through The Trunk. The ringing in Sunny's head didn't subside, but he cringed through it.
Zinc groaned over the intercom, clearly injured, but continuing to admirably order his crew about. "One swerved off, Ned caught another with fire. Just one of these bastards left." Quieter, and likely thinking he was off the air, Zinc coughed in pain, "Why the hell is he still coming?"
Sunny scanned for the last vehicle in his cupola, trying to strain the autocannons as far forward as he could. The screen didn't give him a glimpse of the cab though, so he couldn't see how the lead trailer fared. A few tense seconds later an explosion let him know The Tower had done it's job.
Breathing a ragged sigh of relief, Sunny dropped from the gunnery straps. Fresh blood dripped into his eyes. "Huh, must be higher than my shoulder," Sunny stated to no one in particular. Then adrenaline lost the fight to nausea, and he passed out.