The Warrior 2 (sci-fi 3)

Yax had been scouting with the other 2 members of his squad, chasing down rumors that a legacy weapon had been hidden in these ruins. Legacy tech was valuable enough that the War Council of the Zeequess had purchased the scouts passage on a flying vessel scheduled to pass nearby, but Yax wished they had had the additional funds available to bring along their Suits. The rugged and powerful mech-like exoskeletons would have easily saved the rest of his squad from the crocadon, the heavy weapons they mounted would have had no difficulty penetrating the beast even through the frill. But Yax was a Warrior, and knew that wishing was a futile occupation.
He contemplated his options as he set about retrieving his and the other scouts’ gear from where it had been strewn. Some of it was inside the crocadon, and retrieving it was a gory task. Afterwards he thoroughly scrubbed his skin off with sand. Though the digestive juices would have difficulty penetrating his tough epidermis, it was better to be prudent.
Forcing carpals into his legs for maximum length, he quickly strode around and gathered everything into a heap. It wasn’t much, but as a scout he was accustomed to working with little in the way of resources.
His battle spike he stored in its normal place, along with his pack. There were two other battle spikes, which he set aside. Scout Mecio’s burn tube and windhammer he laid on the ground next to Scout Darcis’s ping rifle and cleaveall. The burn tube was a low-power flame projector, the windhammer fired high-intensity bursts of air designed to knock an opponent down or even out. Neither seemed to have much utility in Yax’s current situation, though he noted the burn tube’s use as a signaling device.
The ping rifle had definite possibilities. It fired a very small projectile at very high speeds. It was accurate to a long distance and it would be perfect for hunting small game. He strapped it to his pack in place of his own lightning rifle. The lightning rifle did a great deal of damage, but it was slow and heavy, and unless there was another crocadon around, or similar large beast, it wasn’t going to be particularly useful. And since the crocadons were extremely territorial, Yax would be surprised if there was any creature larger than a cat within miles.
The cleaveall he looked at wistfully, but he knew he wouldn’t be bringing it along. The high-speed rotating teeth would cut through nearly anything (and might have seriously damaged the crocadon if Darcis hadn’t been the first to get killed) but it, like the lightning rifle, was just too heavy to make it worth carrying for any long distance.
Finally he picked up his own secondary weapon, a light but fast-firing automatic pistol called a Dowser, and stored it in its accustomed holster. It weighed little, and its lack of penetration was made up for by his familiarity with the device’s characteristics. The Zeequess military placed a great deal of emphasis on how an individual’s training made them a better Warrior, and it was understood by all Warriors that a weapon you knew well was a much better asset than a weapon you didn’t.
Shrugging the straps on his pack and readjusting his carpals for their best endurance configuration, he picked up the burn tube and started walking in the direction of the nearest trade route.
A day later he spotted a transport crawler and fired the burn tube to get its attention. Quickly he extended his legs and raced to its side, climbing the long ladder hanging from its side and reaching the top in time to face Hamjiir exiting the rope house. The dust that had coated him caused him no discomfort, his skin being proof against such irritants.
Yax Harpath, looking upon Hamjiir for the first time, saw an average sized Var, its pyramidal shape emphasized by the squat legs growing from each corner of its body. Two long arms, jointed so they could work in tandem either forward or back, were currently folded on the Var’s wide lap. The dress-like garment it wore had the stripes of a Master Merchant on the shoulders, and the seams where the stripes had been sewed on were long since worn smooth, indicating that he had held his rank for a long time. Yax’s eyes noted that a pair of hand guards – sort of like the basket hilts on fencing swords but with no blades – in the Var’s belt also had a worn look, as if they had been dented and then polished many times.