Starsector > Lore, Fan Media & Fiction
Second Rise of Man - a Starsector inspired story
B.K.:
Another drop of chapters. 14, 15, 16, and 17, since two of them are shorter interludes.
Thanks for reading!
P.S. I completely forgot to change the swearwords because I am, after all, a lazy ***.
See.
Chapter 14: REVENGE
SpoilerTHE BRANDED WALKS among the detritus of the Depths. Misery, despair, and horrors flourish around it. Disease-ridden fleshbags that feast on their own suffering. A cavalcade of tech wasting away on flesh that has been thrown to the Depths to rot. Sickness eating at their bodies until their minds collapse under the weight of the pain and they turn more feral than the mongrels from Seltior 7 they used to train back when was known as Hark Miner. The Branded suspects the Depths were originally planned to be a mining facility, or a harbor, because the skeleton of society still stands tall but rotten. What were once buildings are now collapsing in on the detritus of flesh that have been relegated to living here. One can enter the Depths, but you’re not expected to leave. There is no cure for the graft sickness, and there is no hope for the ones in the Depths.
Hooded and cloaked the Branded walks in the dark. It slinks in between the coughing and decaying fleshbags, each gasping for air and their hands lifting towards it like there is any hope in its contact. In the distance it hears screams and wails of anguish, malice, and lastly the decimation of flesh as those gone to the sickness tear at anything that comes their way.
It is unafraid. It is beholden to its Lords, and they beckon. It hears their calls over the pitiful cries of the fleshbags. So the Branded can make its way through the waste of humanity undisturbed. Its goal is a building steadily in decline, but less so than the others in this sector of the Depths. It hears their snarls once it enters. Eyes glimmering softly in the thin darkness. The Branded has no time for such waste. It engages the core, burst energy into its combustion rail, and mows them down. Its objective is the hatch in the basement. Opened through the code given to it by the fleshbags it had sold the devices to.
“Useless fleshbag activated it too early.” So now it has to go adjust the timing. Only way that waste of tech would have accepted the devices in the first place was if he had control over their detonation. A safety measure, he called it. Not even thinking twice that the Branded had override codes. Full of himself, full of his self-righteous revolution.
The Branded enters the sub-basement and engages his ocular filters. The device stands beeping in the middle of the otherwise empty space. It has to go remedy the mistake the fleshbag made, and make things right for the Lords.[close]
Chapter 15: DISPOSABLE INCOME
SpoilerLETO FLEECED HIM for all he had saved. He had enough to get off-planet and then he’d be flush after a good job or two. Now he’ll be lucky if he can get something to eat at any place above the Lower Circles. But Leto is strutting his stuff like he’s the real deal, which he is, but that doesn’t detract from the fact that no one but Demir knows it. He’s not sure if the Grand-Master wants to get them killed before they even step foot in front of Warhorse’s posse.
Demir got him a velocity slug-shooter with uranium coated ammo, two plasma blades, and a heavy shrapnel cannon. Leto’s massive frame conceals the weapons well with nothing jutting from the cloak still draped over him like a loose bag. Judging by how he dispatched Warhorse and his men barehanded the mere thought of him going against anyone while armed is nothing short of a visceral image, and a palpable tension. The lower they go the more violence becomes common, but the kind Leto can dish out is likely to cause quite a stir. That’s the last thing they need. However, Demir is slowly growing accustomed to what they have to do, and less to what they need. What they need is those nukes, and what they have to do it kill their way to them. Simple as that. As long as Leto does the killing.
Demir squeezed one of the girls he knows frequents Warhorse and his goons. Says it’s a decent job, they pay her fee always. Considering most Lowers don’t, that’s always a major plus. Add some more cash on top and she’ll give you the skinny on their base. Leto frowned at the prospect of working with a prostitute, especially since Demir could see the judgmental look in his eyes. But if anything’s not his *** business it’s where Demir likes to stick his *** when he’s in a pinch. Especially when he’s not in the market for something more upscale. Needs are needs. Despite how much Leto got rid of his.
Surprisingly enough it’s not a warehouse this time. Rather the top floor of a shopping block. The would-be revolutionaries funnel a lot of their dirty money, and earn for protection, through the vendors. Demir knows many of them have hidden compartments for weapons and illegal tech if you know who to ask and how. He never bothered finding out more. Even did a couple of small deals back before his name carried through the Galaxy.
Unlike in the Bazaar or other open markets here no one bothers them to come in and buy their ***. You either enter of your own accord or not at all. That way they can make their way to the top floor easily.
Lowers jump on them as soon as their feet set foot on their turf. All of them Warhorse’s men. Disheveled people beholden to the cause. A cause they know little about and care less about. The only reason they are there is belonging, which is something most Lowers have no sense of. That’s how they wrangle you in, and that’s how they keep you. It’s not just about the revolution, it’s about feeling like you’re a part of something more. That you can be more than the place you were born in has determined you to be. And doesn’t every revolution start out that way?
“*** you looking for, eh manno?” a Lower ugly as sin, visual enhancement lines across his scarred face, pushes himself threateningly into Leto’s zone.
“We have information about Warhorse.”
“*** you know about Warhorse?”
“That he’s dead,” Leto cuts through the patois with his stern demeanor, like he’s piloting his Spear straight through the AI armada. Not many *** left in this guy. Maybe never had any to begin with. Or maybe they beat them out of him.
Weapons drawn now. “Say you?”
“Yes. Now let me in, or suffer the consequences.”
“Think you a big manno, ha? Wearing that Leto like a...”
The Grand-Master has none of it. He’s low before the Lower can even trace him with his blaster. Blades cut through his tendons and he’s down screaming. Leto’s shoulder smashes the next guard straight into the door and a savage kick pushes him through and the door off its hinges. Slug-shooter has the last guard down with two kneecaps missing, so Leto can just saunter into the base to see the rest of the Lowers up and their weapons out.
Leto walks in so cold the temperature drops, like they owe him money, like they owe him the future. Problem is, they do.
“Who the *** are you, manno?” one of the Lowers, presumably the one who feels in charge, blurts out over the pulse rifle in his hands.
“I’m sick and tired of answering your questions. Warhorse is dead, and you’re out of luck.”
“And how the *** you know the skinny on that?”
“Because I killed him.” Temperature drops even lower, guns too as surprise sets in. Making a statement like that in a situation like this only has two outcomes. One being instant return fire, and the other being what happens now.
Leto takes his chance and is on them all like a *** cascade bomb. They fall to his blades, his massive arms and legs tear at anyone and everyone in the entire room. A crescendo of carnage. Screams and wails and broken limbs, torn mods and enhancements, weapons strewn about as Demir watches the Grand-Master utterly demolish the Lowers in about the time it takes Demir to down a good slush from Keres.
Those that are injured are left writhing on the floor. Those that aren’t let their weapons fall. To Demir’s own surprise none of them are dead.
“Now you listen up, and listen well,” Leto continues his tirade like he didn’t just *** in their soup and break their limbs in the process. “Warhorse is dead, but not before arming the nukes.” The Lowers not writhing in pain and with enough gray matter left in their skulls from all the illegal stims pucker their ears at this. “That’s how much he valued your misbegotten revolution. As soon as I got to him he armed them and then offed himself, so now I have no way of finding them before they glass the entire city. I want to know where he placed them, and I want to know now.”
Lowers start looking at each other, the sweat beading harder on their brows now. The man who just ate them alive wants answers, and it looks like they got none.
“He never give us the skinny on that,” and one of the Lowers finally confirms.
“Then how did he get them? Who’s his supplier?”
“No one seen him. Warhorse told he some creepy manno from off-planet. Heavily done over.” Patois for modded out of his skull. “No clue where he put them nukes. No clue who got them on-planet.”
“So you’re telling me your boss was doing all this alone?” Shrugs all around. “And you just *** let him.” Demir gets a nice cold shiver from the swear. Leto, the Grand-Master of *** War, is a man of sheer conditioning, determination, and habit. When he lets go of that he’s most dangerous.
“Boss is boss.”
“Well, I’m your boss now,” then Leto confirms to Demir that he’s off the rails. And at that point Demir stops wishing for some zazz and starts fantasizing about being anywhere but here.
“Say?” one of the Lowers asks, small and timid as a whisper.
“You all work for me now. And let me be very clear. If you so much as pipe your *** my way I will find all of your bases, all of your friends, comrades, loved ones, and I will murder them in such violent fashion they’ll beg for the nukes to glass this entire shithole so the pain stops.” Silence coats the room, freezing it over. Lowers look at each other, weigh their options against the odds of Leto actually doing it, and finally their own odds of stopping it. They come to the sensible conclusion and nod approvingly. “Smart, for once. Now, I want everyone here done up and ready. I don’t care what it takes. Everyone is on the field now. I want those nukes found, I want the contact found. We have no idea if we have days, weeks, or months until they blow. So work like it’s hours. Everyone closest to Warhorse will be interviewed by me. Mr. Sunderland will handle the day to day.” And there go Demir’s fantasies. “We keep this discreet. If the Authority catches so much as a whiff that the nukes are armed they’ll vent us all.” Not only that, but they’ll brick Demir’s deal and throw them into the *** Depths with the Rotten. Maybe even scrap Baby for parts. Leto’s right about keeping this under the scanners. “Move about with the utmost discretion, work your contacts, work the suppliers and people Warhorse might have gotten involved with. Remember, he sold you out. Left you to die. I’m the only one who can get you out of this. So make your actions count. Are we clear?” Nods all around. “I said, are we clear?” The Grand-Master’s voice booms so hard the response comes out like a biological imperative.
“Yes, sir!”[close]
Chapter 16: SUFFERING
SpoilerTHE BRANDED KNOWS they are mobilized. The detritus of flesh is being heralded by a new leader, and their top priority is the devices. It has a hardcoded thread into the communications systems. Endless stream of voices filtered through the network its Lords had given it. Drones that find safe haven in his back, fueled by his reactor. Now they fly to do its bidding. An external web of influence the Branded can exude at will. How the fleshbags talk sickens it, but it must endure. For its Lords.
In the Depths it has the dark to keep it company, and the voices to drown out the screams. It keeps Warhorse and his failures in the back of its cortical stack. Just to always have the hatred even closer at hand.
The interference by the fleshbags will have no effect on its plan, its Lords guarantee as much. Try as they might, they are doomed to fail. Like their entire race will soon falter, wither, and fall.
The Branded hasn’t registered any tampering with the other device. Although its human uncertainty is still nagging at it. Something it wishes the slush of his brain had been removed during its ascension. It suspects it’s to keep it understanding of the plights of its former flesh prison and those adjacent to it. Know thy enemy, and to know thy enemy one must also be thy enemy.
Right now the Branded’s enemy is scurrying around the Circles to find the devices. Fruitlessly so. It revels in their plight, finds solace in their inevitable demise. In the distance the screams punctuate the dark. More screams are to be had.
Soon.[close]
Chapter 17: WARHORSE
SpoilerSOMETHING BETWEEN NOTHING and not much. That’s all they got. Warhorse’s men had about as much of a clue as to his plans as Leto and Demir have now. All they know is that Warhorse was very vocal about having the nukes, placing the nukes, and that the revolution would sweep the city. Not much of anything in terms of where the nukes are and who gave them to him in the first place.
Then they moved on to speculations. Warhorse’s men must have had some kind of inkling as to when they might blow. What were his usual targets, which times did he stress? What did he *** let slip? Was he going to go for full damage? Leto doubted that from the beginning. You can’t have a revolution if you glass the entire city. Since Leto had seen a couple of revolutions snuffed in his day he suspects the Authority must be a prime target. They are most certainly aiming to crumble the Authority infrastructure, but within a city built like Melkior that’s not possible. No way you can destroy every Authority base on every circle without something much more coordinated than this haphazard mess Warhorse left behind. No, they’re aiming to take out the head at least. Authority Circle is going to be glassed for sure.
Another thing that’s for sure is that they don’t need two nukes to do that. So the other might be on the surface. Get rid of the rich. Purge the money, and maybe bank on pirate assistance. Keep the production facilities, the mines and the ports. That’s the most likely choice. Warhorse, for all his evident leadership charisma, was not a bright man.
What worries Leto, even more, is Warhorse’s contact. The man’s an enigma. Only thing they have on him is that he was visibly enhanced. Maybe former army. Maybe a rising criminal force looking to expand into Melkior. They might have been using Warhorse as a scapegoat. Then they swoop in as a fake bank, give out loans, integrate themselves into the money. Once that’s over your planet, city, and everything in it is theirs. And these types of organizations have no interest in overthrowing the hierarchy. That means the second nuke could be any-***-where.
That’s driving Leto crazy.
Warhorse, for all his bravado and blabbering, didn’t give A single thing with regards to the nukes. His contact neither. As if all that wasn’t enough by itself, they also have so many different possibilities considering Warhorse’s evidently incessant babbling. Too many options, which means no options.
“Leto,” Demir pulls him out of his thoughts and contemplation.
“Yes, Mr. Sunderland, how is the day to day? Authority satisfied?” Leto had persuaded Demir to give the Authority a check-in. Half the truth just to make sure they are a bit more inclined to keep their prying eyes out of the Lower Circles.
“Authority is. Day to day’s solid,” and he pauses. “But we’re burning time. I have an ear to the ground and there’s nothing. Nothing from Warhorse’s men. They just keep repeating *** in circles. Things they heard Warhorse say, and it’s driving me insane.”
“It’s like a web. You follow it somewhere you think is new only to get caught in the circle again.”
“Yeah, it’s mind-grating.”
“No, Mr. Sunderland. It’s genius. As far we can trace back Warhorse’s stories have been a constant since the oldest members of his crew can remember. But all of their recollections are recent. Nothing about the good old times. This is all new. This is all planted.”
Realization flushes over Demir’s face, a soft and stoic – but very self-satisfied – grin flashes brightly. “Wasn’t Warhorse at all. His contact. He bought him out, and all Warhorse had to do was be more Warhorse than usual. Everything serves to get us off his tracks.” More realization, the bad kind. “That’s why we’re ***.”
“We’re *** if we stick with Warhorse’s men. We need to expand. We need an ally.” Loud sigh from Demir. “Anything to suggest, Mr. Sunderland?”
“We’re going to need the Cardinal. He really runs the Lower Circles. His crew is organized, and he’s got info,” Demir finally admits.
“You don’t seem too happy about that.”
“Yeah. Warhorse’s crew was easy pickings for you. Cardinal,” and he shakes his head. “We’re going to need a really sweet deal for him. Cardinal doesn’t move unless it’s worth his while.” Leto keeps his gaze frozen into the distance. Demir recognizes the pensive stare. “If you say we tell him the truth I’ll slap you. I’ll risk you breaking me, but I’ll do it.”
“What else is going to work, Demir?” First time Leto used his given name. “We only have time for the truth.”
And isn’t that the truth?[close]
Blue_Bear:
To mimic Albreo, this is some excellent writing, enjoyable to read, draws you in, and the world-building is solid, some of the best stuff I've read in a while.
My only minor point of critism is that the pacing is kind of immediately turned up to 11 for poor Demir and we don't have much of a chance to get to know him before the story kicks into gear, but that's probably a point of personal preference rather than a direct critique of your work.
I'm really looking forward to reading more and thank you for sharing this with us!
B.K.:
--- Quote from: Blue_Bear on May 25, 2021, 11:52:27 PM ---To mimic Albreo, this is some excellent writing, enjoyable to read, draws you in, and the world-building is solid, some of the best stuff I've read in a while.
My only minor point of critism is that the pacing is kind of immediately turned up to 11 for poor Demir and we don't have much of a chance to get to know him before the story kicks into gear, but that's probably a point of personal preference rather than a direct critique of your work.
I'm really looking forward to reading more and thank you for sharing this with us!
--- End quote ---
Thank you!
I get the point about the narrative and it's a legit concern because it can turn some readers away. The reason why I went there is to practice a bit of that show don't tell philosophy in fiction writing. Instead doing an overlong introduction for Demir I plan to show his backstory throughout the unfolding narrative.
Risky, sure, but even in failure we can find growth.
Cheers, and thanks for reading!
Orion Kamish:
What a nice novel to spent time with while the world is burning..... Hmmmmm welp that's just me hehehe but nice read though
B.K.:
Here's a couple of more chapters. Specifically chapters 18, 19, and 20. Back after a while, because I am a lazy ***, and it's hot as hell out there.
Cheers! Thanks for reading.
Chapter 18: ALTAR TO THE BEHOLDEN
SpoilerYOU DON’T JUST SEE the Cardinal. You ask nicely to see the Cardinal. And if you ask nice enough he might just consider giving you a spot in his busy schedule. Maybe in a month or three. No, you don’t just see the Cardinal. That only happens when you have something really worth his while.
Demir Sunderland and a Leto III in tow telling him they have info he really wants to hear. Place his Baby as collateral on the info to boot. A MOS’s original design is not something you put up lightly.
That morning Demir put the call in. Come noon they’re in his chambers in the Altar. The EN religion that fuels the Cardinal's imagery. He was fast enough to capitalize on the EN gibberish after the AI Wars. Now he rules in the Lower Circles, lets small factions like Warhorse’s operate. Snuffs them out for the Authority when need be. Keeps the peace. But instead of some pseudo-prophet the Cardinal has people beholden to golden principle of money. Imagery sells it, imagery keeps it hidden. Keeps him looking just that off-brand insane that doesn’t cause mass panic. In the shadows he operates like a banker gliding through the Drakkweb.
Demir never believed the Cardinal when he would say he’s not interested in some position. He’s content with having his Lower Circles. Having this power just isn’t his style. Demir never believes the word content.
Demir knows that when he tells the Cardinal what they have to tell, there is no going back.
Leto won’t like it. But Demir knows the Cardinal has a plan just for this. This is his show. Apocalypse is coming, and he’s the *** Cardinal.
Demir is sure of it.
And the more he witnesses the Cardinal’s succulent pomp, circumspect grandeur, and candid sanity, he’s sure this is the right play.
The Cardinal himself is as imposing a man as his Altar makes you feel small in the face his EN *** facade. Tall, broad, untouched by tech except for his organs which are not granted by God. Shock of white hair tangled all around his weary face. Old age always suited the EN religion more than hard youth. Neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard juxtaposed to his wild eyebrows and sunken cheeks. Deep inset eyes that seem to always and never be looking directly into your soul. His red gown with golden filigree has just the right amount of Lower Circles grime on it to be of the masses and beyond the masses. He sits in front of them on his modest wooden stool, directly from Earth he swears. A contingent of highly trained guards standing sentinel around him. Demir and Leto are beset from all angles. Not even Leto can fight his way out of this.
And if Demir plays this right Leto won’t have to.
“I heard some rustling in the Circles, Mr. Sunderland,” Cardinal puts the cordial spin on his introduction. “This is not the first time you put your skiff against some info you had to sell. Which begs the question if you’re even in possession of your precious Baby?”
“No worries there, Baby’s still mine.” Cardinal’s faux-religious tribe have nothing to say about lying. Considering how much of it they do themselves there would none of them left had they decided to punish the action.
“Very well then, what do you have for me?”
“Before we start I need you to detain Leto here.” The Grand-Master almost jumps out of his seat. His eyes wide, his frame bursting at the seams. “And please do it quick.”
Cardinal nods to his squad and they’re on Leto with shackles. He manages to fend off a couple before he’s brought to the ground. Writhing and cursing, crying foul and promising revenge. Demir is ready to take that if it means they can leave this rock unharmed.
“Now, Mr. Sunderland, the info.”
“There are two nukes planted on Melkior. We have no idea where, and no way to find them.”
Everyone in the Altar stops for a heartbeat. “You are certain of this?” Cardinal cuts through the tension quick, precise, just as Demir expected.
“We are. Warhorse and some mysterious, untraceable *** planted them. All of his people have no *** clue and we’ve been grinding them for weeks. Now, we know Warhorse didn’t really have the mental capacity to pull this off by himself, so we suspect his partner did most of the planning and execution.”
“So Warhorse is dead,” more of a confirmation than a question. “I had my finger on that pulse, but now it seems to finally be confirmed. Might I wager that the Leto there took care of him?”
An astute man. Well, you don’t get to sit on his bench for so many years without being one. “Yes. He armed the nukes before he died. We took over his operation to find them but got jack ***. Only a web of info that traces to exactly nowhere.”
“I see, so you’re wondering if I can help find them?”
“No. There’s no way we will.” An arched brow from the Cardinal. “We want to let you know that you should bail and take everyone you want with you.”
“You would like to be one of the ones I take, am I correct?”
“Would be stupid if we weren’t. Melkior is going to get glassed. Maybe just a couple of Circles, or maybe the whole thing. Two nukes in the right places is more than enough to do either. Warhorse would never go for glassing the entire city. But we know jack *** about what his partner wants. Either way, as I see it you can bail and come back as a *** savior, or just bail and find a new place to station. We just want off this rock.” Leto furious in the background. So much so the guards have to gag him.
“Only one problem with this info of yours.” Demir gets the tingles, not the good kind. “How do we confirm this? Warhorse’s men,” and the Cardinal scoffs, “I would consider them highly unreliable. Your word I consider less so. But where do I find tangible proof?”
“Ask the Authority. They put me on the nukes. But I would suggest being very careful about how you do it.” The Cardinal sighs. “Listen, if you let them know the nukes are armed they’ll blockade the entire city. Let the nukes glass the *** and then proclaim it a *** terrorist uprising. Every conglomerate in the Known Galaxy will be on this. The Authority will get even more power and then people like us will be out of business. If they blow along with the nukes it’ll show the Galaxy how incompetent they are. Think about it.” Now a smirk from the Cardinal. “Criminals running the show. The underground ready to burst above ground. You ride this, and you ride it hard. And when you do, don’t forget who got you there.”
Moment of silence, only Leto’s incessant muffled cries in the background. “I have to say, Mr. Sunderland, you truly are a man of your word.”
“Never said otherwise.”
“Most certainly. I believe we have work to do.” Cardinal stands up almost wearily, pushing himself off his thighs. “What do you want us to do with the Leto?”
“Keep him sedated, and put him in the hold of my skiff.”
“Which is where?”
“Corporal’s.”
“Most excellent, we are planning on paying him a visit as is.”[close]
Chapter 19: CORPORAL
SpoilerJUST A SMALL CONTINGENT this time. The Cardinal decides it’s best to travel light when they go see the Corporal. Cardinal had Leto drugged up the gills and detained with about three times what it takes for any normal man. Demir’s suggestion, of course. Now he’s kept somewhere in the dark, ready to be shipped to Baby’s cargo bay like a piece of real-meat he sometimes smuggles to places where it’s a legend. Humanity started growing their meat eons ago, so something from a real animal is more than EN ***. Unlike that trite remembrance, Demir gets more sick of every day real-meat is actually worth a damn. Money, that is. While his own thoughts and apprehensions are still worth about as much as exhaust fumes. He’s a speck in the dirt in all of this, just as much as the Cardinal, only Demir knows why.
Demir knows Leto will never forgive him for this. Full well. He thinks to himself through a smirk. No, Leto won’t forgive him. However, he will forget for the sake of the Galaxy. For now.
Only reason beyond the obvious why Leto is even on Demir’s mind is because he’d rather have the Grand-Master at his side than the Cardinal’s Paladins, as he calls them. Three bestial pieces of human flesh and tech that make Leto’s stern stare look like a warm glance at a bar. Cardinal is not inclined to drop his gown, but this is a civil arrangement for him in terms of guards. This is how he tells people he’s just there to talk and not rip their guts out.
Corporal buzzes them in quicker than Demir had ever seen it go off. Barely even in the camera’s periphery and the door’s already open. Warm welcome indeed. Wish I could get this kind of treatment at some point. But then again Demir was never as warm on the thought of running his own operation. Too much hassle, too many people. He’s still not fully content with having Leto by his side at all times either. Baby’s all he’ll ever need.
Paladins go in first, spread out, and let the Cardinal and Demir in once they have a hold on the space. Scanners primed and tech armed, just in case.
Corporal’s got his arms out and a smile on his face. “The Eminence himself in my humble abode. What can I do for you today, Cardinal?”
“I want a catalog of all the ships in your hangar. Any others across the Lower Circles, and access to your pipeline,” Cardinal rushes in without padding like he’s itching for a hyperspace burn. Lost look on the Corporal’s face says it all. “Any problems with that, Corporal?”
“A lot, actually.”
“Mr. Sunderland, will you please enlighten the Corporal? This is your doling after all.”
Corporal’s look changes from lost to supremely sober. Legends of Demir’s fuckups are nothing if not known throughout the Galaxy.
Demir takes a deep breath. “Hagen has me chasing nukes on-planet. They’re armed now and we have no way of finding them before they blow.”
“Precisely,” Cardinal takes the wheel again. “Now we both know if word gets to the Authority they will blockade the city and use the explosion to expand their influence across the Galaxy. Don’t we, Corporal?” Poor man just nods, caught in the situation as he is. “Good. Now, my people are going off-planet, and we need your ships to do so. Once we have the numbers we will also allocate enough assets for you and the people you choose to join us. Mr. Sunderland will be free to depart in his skiff, along with anyone he wants.” Cardinal’s still skeptical about Leto. Not sure how he figures into all of this. An expensive Leto III knockoff has worth, but enough to risk the deal for his safety. Demir made it clear that Leto lives or the Authority will get wind of the situation. Cardinal was apprehensive but didn’t object.
“But the people?” Corporal finally lets out words.
“The people, sadly I must add, will be left to their own devices. Along with the Authority. Time is of the essence, Corporal. We need the logs now, and we need to be off-planet as soon as possible. Be compliant and you’ll find more than just a happy customer in me. I see the potential for a partnership after Melkior is over with. We will have to rebuild, but I value your business sense. This is the time to be smart, Corporal.”
“Oh, I am.” The menacing grin on the Corporal’s face speaks of a man with a contingency plan. The frown on the Cardinal’s face speaks of a man finding out he’s about to get ***.
For the skies know which time this *** month alone Demir is left to lose his *** when the Corporal starts some kind of emergency protocol.[close]
Chapter 20: HANGAR
SpoilerCORPORAL’S GONE in a cavalcade of alarms and bots rushing into the store. Paladins hold ground while the Cardinal and Demir make their brief escape. Cardinal’s on the internal comms, ordering all his forces to take the Corporal’s tunnels and entrance, and a full battalion on the store from which they’ll rush the hangar proper.
“No ships in or out!” last thing Cardinal blurts out before coming back to the situation at hand. “Authority will be on us soon. We have to take the hangar now and get out too. No sense in doing this quiet or prolonging it now. We rush in and we get off-planet immediately.”
“But Leto,” Demir blurts out almost dumbfounded.
“You’ll find a new one. I’m a man of my word. You can have your skiff, but I won’t waste time hauling the Leto from cold storage to the hangar. Now or never, Mr. Sunderland.” A cold flushes down Demir’s gullet. He shivers and nods a shaky yes. “Good. A battalion will be here momentarily.”
Soon as the Cardinal says that the Paladins come out of the store. Each of them disheveled to a degree, but all of them alive. One even carrying a bot arm in one hand. “We can’t break through the elevator door. We need a sapper team.”
“Of course. I anticipated as much if need be. We’ll have everything we need.” Cardinal returns to the comms to check up on the blockade progress. He informs Demir and the Paladins that there have been no attempts to fly out the Corporal’s tunnel. “He’s going to make a stand at the hangar and try to spread us out thin so he and his platoon can make a clean getaway.”
“Maybe we let him get off-planet?” Demir interjects. “I mean, he can’t have that many men. So what if we lose a couple of ships?”
“The Corporal would never allow for a trail on him. No, once he’s off-planet the hangar will most likely be cleaned. The explosive kind of cleaned.”
“What the *** is it with explosions these past couple of days. Does everyone on this *** rock have a bomb?” I’m getting tired of this ***. Demir thinks to himself because he knows he can’t really flip now and make the Cardinal question his decision to honor their agreement.
Clots of people avoid them because no one in the Lower Circles, the Bazaar, or even the Upper Circles avoids crossing the Cardinal if they don’t have business with him. A respectful distance just in case. Even more people flee the scene when the Cardinal’s battalion arrives. No sense in concealing their weapons or going in stealthy. They have to get this done quick before the Authority comes barreling down on them. Considering the distance from the Upper Circles, or even the station from where they are now it will take some time. Even more so considering the time it takes for the info to even reach them. Even on this circle, people are not as inclined to call the Authority as they might be elsewhere.
“Corporal’s holed up in the hangar. Only way down is the elevator, but we can’t risk that so we blow it and dive down quick. He’s got the advantage on us with his bots and people. We can’t let him overtake our position and spread us thin. We have to hold and then launch an assault through the tunnels. Pincer him in and take the hangar. He’s a soldier, after all, so he won’t blow it all up just to spite us. He’s not Warhorse, after all. If we win, we win. He knows that. So let’s kill him with respect, shall we?” Cardinal’s battalion nods affirmative and they all enter the store.
With trained precision the battalion makes their way to the elevator door and place the explosives, set the charge timer, and retreat to a safe distance. The door’s blown wide open with a grav pulse that implodes it into itself. After it’s done the Cardinal’s men dismantle the elevator with more grav charges until the shaft is completely open and they can grapple down quick and not get pelted.
“Corporal is going to have the elevator surrounded so I want shields up front and a full line. Take out the bots first because they won’t stop coming. Grenade them like hounds, and when the Corporal retreats we will pincer him in. I’ll give word to the tunnel battalion once the retreat has started.” Another quick nod from the battalion before they prepare their gear. Hum of shields being charged, grappling hooks click, blasters armed buzzing. With that trained precision Demir witnessed before they form their line and jump into the belly of the beast.
“You’re not going down?” Demir asks the Cardinal despite knowing the answer.
“The Cardinal doesn’t sully his robe, but you’re free to participate if you’re so inclined,” Cardinal gives him the cold truth. [close]
Navigation
[0] Message Index
[#] Next page
[*] Previous page
Go to full version