“And then we’ll settle in the city of Melodis for one day for provisioning before proceeding onwards past this valley here.”
The Corporal designating the journey so far once more points on the blue iridescent map, lining a journey past 3 separate cities.
“As you can see from our start point, this red section outlined here, we’re going through two more territories including our endpoint. First off is the territory of the Golden Aurora, highlighted by this yellow part. Only the city Eminence lies in our path inside of it, but we’ll have to make sure those zealous fanatics don’t stop us from progressing. We’ve already set up multiple deals to get this done thankfully, but we can never be too sure, so be on your guard as we supply there.” He comments giving a scrutinizing gaze to what seems to be some kind of public relations manager who gives him a solid nod.
“Afterwards we will arrive in our destinated territory of the Antrades, with our final destination being this city.” He points with a small laser towards the end of the path wherein large bold letters the city Delice is indicated.
He’s talking about territories like it’s all-encompassing, I mentally scoff, but we all know that the only thing really part of it are the cities themselves.
“Using this route we should arrive at the terminus within the week.” He says, finishing his oh so long speech.
“Any questions?” Rosethorn asks the room, seemingly expecting none. “Then you are all dismiss-“
A single hand gets raised before she manages to finish, in my favor it appears as I hear sweet tunes in my ears following it.
“How long until the bar is open?” Gregg asks beside me, being as formal as possible.
For once, a glare isn’t directed at me as she answers his question with grinding teeth. “Until twelve.” I take a quick look at a graphical clock on the wall, indicating it’s 10:23.
A soft pat on the back leaves a grin on my partner’s face while I start making plans for getting hammered after my interrogation. “Never say I didn’t care.” He whispers to me as the room starts dispersing, including my friend.
Before too long I’m left in the room alone with a very angry woman and no booze to be found. A situation no man should find himself in if they have any luck in life. Sadly, I’m finding myself rather unlucky in recent times.
“So, mister ‘Jake Woodhick’.” She scathes at me. “A professional bodyguard huh?”
“Sure am.” I reply, suddenly finding an increasing interest in the carvings on the ceiling.
“Did you enjoy it? Taking 20000 credits off of me? Just because I lost my weaponry in a previous scuffle?” She asks while getting up off her chair slowly making her way over.
“Half expected you not to pay it gotta be honest.” I say while trying to count the number of times the pattern repeats itself.
“Well unlike you,” She overemphasizes while covering my view, “I actually have standards.” She remarks while poking my chest.
“Different ones.” I comment with a shrug, giving a feeble response of defense.
“Well, Woodhick, we’re going to have to acquaint with each-other real well over the next week considering you’re my chaperone.” She says while getting up just a tad too close for comfort.
“And if I hear any words from my commanding officers about you raising trouble, you’re off this train and into the outlands, you hear me?” She whispers to me.
“Loud and clear.” I say, actually stately for once.
“Good. Now get the hell out of here before I decide to give you an early leave against my worse judgement.”
If sweeter words were ever heard, then the sound of clinking glasses and pouring booze surely is as I find myself sitting on a stool at an unfamiliar counter, rubbing it with my right hand. The odd feeling being rather out of place against the familiar swills on my tab, but very pleasant.
Almost expected splinters with a top like this, but a quick look reveals no blemishes whatsoever in the polished black wood.
“So how was the debriefing?” Gregg mentions from next to me as the stool creaks from him taking a seat.
“Got chewed out with molars the size of a Rhinok’s” I remark before taking another deep swig. A quick hand gesture leaves a round of booze for both of us on the countertop.
“That bad, huh? What’d you do, nail her with a right?” He asks starting on his own drink.
“Accidentally asked for financial compensation in a situation where I probably shouldn’t have, prior to meeting her here.”
“So, blackmail.” He states giving me a sideways look.
I give a simple shrug to ignore it. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t have, she didn’t have any indication of being a captain.”
“Can’t fault you there. Say, Jack, what’s been up with you lately anyways?” He asks me upright.
“Up with what?”
“You’ve been kinda in a rut, gotta be real honest buddy. With the amount of drink you’ve been chugging back and the way you’re acting like one of the gutter rats.”
Looking back over my previous actions after my friend’s reminder leaves a sour taste in my mouth, quickly numbed by a bitter sting.
Putting down my glass I finally manage to respond to my comrade’s silence. “Suppose you’re right.” I tell him feeling rather dejected.
“I get it, pal, we’ve been through some tough situations lately, and I don’t think that’s gonna straighten out any time soon considering current circumstances.” He remarks, sounding about as fed up as I with the tasks Jeremy has set us on lately.
“But we can’t just take it lying down ya feel me?” A splash of liquor hits shiny ebony as he accidentally motions a bit too avidly with his glass, quickly wiped away by swift hands holding white cloth.
“We’re gonna beat em up so bad that even Jeremy wouldn’t dare send us on another one of these gung ho protect the king type deals, out of fear that his clients would get too scared. Tell you what, after we’re done with this we’ll go on a nice vacation for a while and you’ll be right on track again.”
“You know what, that sounds great.” I comment, my spirits already lifting at his goofy smile.
“You really can’t hold your alcohol, you know that right, Gregg?” I remind him.
“Who cares, live a little. We’re gonna be stuck on this damned rowboat for a while anyways so no worries.” He slurs at me, motioning for another round.
“Hah, I’ll drink to that.” I say, downing another.
A splitting headache meets me as I stop myself just short of another metal beam, about an inch away from my head.
“Not getting me again.” I tell the demonic bunkbed as I wake up from my slumber. Meanwhile, a vigorous amount of rubbing has yet to remove my pain as I check for my buddy. Before I even get up to look, heavy snoring above me tells me all I need to know, giving me a hearty chuckle.
Putting on my boots and some simple clothing after a quick morning rundown with plenty of water has me good enough for the morning. Putting a glass of water on the cupboard with aspirin in it for Gregg leaves me content with my routine. Moving once more through the steel hallways past grates and deafening pipes I decide to have a quick workout in the gym I saw on the way to the briefing room.
A low rumbling beneath my feet indicates our departure from the station at last, meaning we’re well underway towards our destination. “Suppose I should do an inspection of my objective soon. Maybe after I’ve stretched a bit.” I yawn out while reaching the fancier parts of the Stigma, the noise of the engines dampening considerably.
Hitting the gym leaves me pleasantly surprised with the equipment they have for such a small place. From squat racks to barbells, bench presses and dumbbells. Just about anything I’d need for some good sweat. A few aerobic exercises later leave me warmed up as I pick up a light pair of dumbbells to start with. Nothing too strenuous yet, considering I still got a job to do.
Sure enough, about fifteen minutes later while I’m doing squats Gregg shows up with a tired face, sitting down at one of the benches next to me.
“Rough morning?” I ask him, finishing up my workout, patting down some sweat off my body.
“You guessed it,” He grumbles out. “if it wasn’t for the aspirin I don’t think I’d’ve survived.” he mentions holding his head as he leans against the wall.
“You should really stop tryin’ to beat sloshers in drinking contests buddy, we’re practically made for it.”
“Gee, ya think so?” His glare seems to say.
“You wanna check up on the thorn?” I ask as I start doing some final stretches.
“Thorn?” he asks with a confused look.
“Yeah, you know. Rosethorn, angry as can be, stuck-up, big annoying hat, a thorn in my side.” I say, listing off traits.
“She didn’t seem that bad did she?”
“Well you didn’t get grilled by her now did ya.”
“Aye, fair enough.” My ailing companion finally concedes after a short silence.
Before too long we leave the gym and head on our way to the quarry, following signs designating our route along the way. Salutes come more often from military personnel the further we go, giving me a puzzled feeling.
“Say, Gregg, why is everyone bein’ so damn formal with us anyways?”
“Pretty obvious if you ask me,” Gregg replies. “we’re the last defense if all goes to hell, who wouldn’t wanna respect someone in a position like that?”
“Yeah, but usually those asshats consider us pincushions to toss in front of bullets, remember?” I remark as we reach the briefing room found earlier.
Unlike before, the only people found when peeking around in the chamber are a few people looking over various maps and meters. Cartographers and mechanics pour over every minute detail, making sure it’s all in tip-top condition.
Taking a deeper look at the room shows two sets of stairs leading up towards a second level, a balustrade covers the sides with a few doors leading to separated rooms, together with a blast door leading outside. The middle entryway has the sign ‘Cockpit’ imprinted above it.
Approaching one of the crew who appears to be looking at a radar on the wall in a corner I prop myself up next to him, taking a look at the radar myself.
“You know where we can find Miss Rosethorn bud?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah, you can find her up on the leftmost door, sir.” The seemingly newly appointed radar operator points me towards one of the doors up top, painted with a bright red rose on it.
Classy, I remark in my head with a flat expression. If I had a talk with whoever designed security for this place I’d perhaps try and remind him of concealment. Or perhaps decoys, traps, lures, disguises, camouflage, anything but this hellhole with leads to their target at just about every step of the way.
“Hmm, any activity around yet?”
“Only some, sir, the average bandit group driving past and a few herds. Nothing that would be able to threaten our convoy.”
“Yeah, until a few thousand show up in either of those. You ever seen some of the mutated animals out here kid? I’m pretty sure nowadays they survive on a diet of pure scrap iron and bone. Their teeth can shred a man into bits and pieces faster than the eye can see and their trample would flatten even the cruisers riding beside this train.”
“Alright alright, quit scaring the poor fella Jack.” Gregg calls out from behind me as I take a look at the victim of my annoyance.
Pure white skin cover chattering teeth as he tries to speak out his next sentence. “I-I’ll keep it in mind. S-sir.”
“Good man.” I tell him, giving him a hearty clap on the back knocking the wind out of him. Returning finds Gregg shaking his head at me, trying to cover a smirk with his hands.
Before reaching him, however, a thought pops up in my head, a rather dire one. “Wait a minute, bandits?”
Hurriedly I rush over towards the map, barging some other grumbling personnel aside. My finger tracks the road we are currently taking, as it slowly but surely marks a single point of the map along the path. “Oh fuck, Gregg you might wanna see this.”
“What’s up Jack? Bad news?” Gregg asks as he jogs up beside me.
“Oh yes, very bad. Remember our briefing?”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“Now think about what they were talking about along the route. It was all, ‘City this, government that.’ right?” My hands slowly quickening as I go through the motions.
“So?”
A panicked look is all I can give as I take a deep stare at the point I was outlining earlier. “They never mentioned ‘their’ territory.”
It takes a quick second before alarm instantly fills my partner’s face as he nearly crashes himself onto the map, taking another look at the same path I’ve been tracing. Worry fills his eyes as the same conclusion is reached inside of his mind.
The door slams open as my mass crams through the doorway into the austere office, followed closely by Gregg. The only objects seen in the room itself are her work surface and an old saber propped up on the wall. The sound of my hands banging on the desk echo throughout the room while I give an urgent stare at our quandary.
“Miss, excuse the rudeness of my friend here, but we have to change the course. Immediately.” Gregg stresses taking a stance beside me.
“And the reason for such an action would be?” Rosethorn calmly asks, trying to figure out the see-through documents with my arms inside of them.
“Bandits.” I exclaim.
“Bandits?” Rosethorn repeats.
“Yes, bandits,” Gregg follows up, making sure everyone is properly briefed about our situation. “it seems that during your planning there were never any discussions about dealing with the outlaws which can be found inside of the outlands. If we continue on course as currently arranged we will find ourselves in a rather.. egregious situation.”
“We’ll be in shit creek with the paddle shoved two feet up our ass just because you pen-pushers didn’t bother taking your head out of your ass when thinking about politics, you get me?” I helpfully add. “All this talk about how to deal with city diplomacy left none for how to deal with the outlands proper.”
“And you think I should be afraid? With one of the strongest land vehicles built yet in our possession?” She remarks, leaning back and giving a pointed look.
Having had enough of leaning over like this my hands finally leave her desk, allowing Gregg to close in further.
“Very. You see miss, I think that I can talk about this coming from experience, the people in the outlands are not to be trifled with. They’re conniving, cunning, and most but not least, deadly. Scavengers at heart these vultures will stop at nothing to take down a juicy target like this marching through their lands. Now, this wouldn’t be a problem normally considering our forces, except for one part.”
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“And that part is where we’re heading straight towards.” I fill in for good measure.
“Care to enlighten me on this ‘danger’?” She mockingly asks.
Several screens pop up beside her, allowing her a look at the source of our distress. A warlord with several scars on his face and a look that could kill does nothing to perturb her demeanor, but Gregg shudders from the visage.
Cruel machinations are the cumulative efforts of this devil, crushing any would be resistance of his regime.
“This man is Marco Terras. Known mostly for his barbaric savagery and iron laws, he rules over large parts of the outlands between the Golden Aurora and the Antrades.”
“So what part makes him so dangerous?”
“The fact that he’s ruled this land for approximately Thirty-eight years at this point.”
At this fact, even her eyebrows shoot up quizzically. “Thirty-eight?” Rosethorn repeats in an unconvinced manner.
“Listen, missy, this freak could give me a run for my money in a fistfight, not to mention the amount of fanatics he somehow snatches from the Golden Aurora territories. He’s abused their fervent hate against technology time and time again to gain popularity and followers throughout the years. At this point, I’m surprised he hasn’t built a damned city of his own yet.”
“Well, be surprised no more pal, because recent intel I learned from Jeremy raises even more flags.”
Images appear in front of my face, showcasing a large town buried halfway into a rockface. Ramshackle buildings made of scrap iron and cloth cover the place with a very large structure sitting in the back overlooking the derelict settlement.
“Well I’ll be damned, last time I remembered they were still road faring bandits. How many you figure could fit in a place like that Gregg?” A rough estimate of my own leaves me close to a number in the thousands.
“At least 150000.” He barks out next to me, stunning my thought processes for a short second.
“150000!?” both me and Rosethorn exclaim.
“How the hell can you fit 150000 people in a place like that?” she asks, my questioning gaze seconding Rosethorn’s.
“You’d be surprised at the ingenuity of outland marauders. It’s hard for them to care about any form of comfort considering most people born outside of walls never had any. The only people that would join them from the inside are radical zealots with no purpose other than furthering their extremist causes. Cramming themselves inside or living on the streets is nothing new for these folk.”
“I knew these people were crazy from my times being around ‘em, but to reach those levels..” I ponder to myself, pacing back and forth.
“Fine, I’ll concede on these fronts but you still haven’t given me a reason to change our trajectory.”
“This,” He emphasizes while putting a small device on the table, “is your reason for doing so.”
A once over leaves me with little information on the gadget, besides it having a small button on top.
“And this would be?” She asks while picking up the cylindrical shaped object.
“An EMP grenade.” Gregg accentuates while putting his hands behind his back, leaving her to inspect it.
Her eyes shoot wide for a split second as she looks towards Gregg. “You’re telling me those savages have military-grade EMP grenades?”
“Not just any, but a lot. And this is but a small sample of their recent foray into its exploration. So far we have confirmed readings of large scale tests with non-nuclear electromagnetic pulse bombs in the local areas around their newly constructed civilization.”
“How the hell has news of this not come out yet Gregg?” I question as I take another once-over of the small device.
“The higher-ups don’t want to spread panic from learning that not only are fanatical citizens taking the side of Terras, but scientists as well. They’ve helped him construct these all in the name of destroying ‘backwards technology’.”
“And you’re tellin’ me that Jeremy hasn’t told me a single word of this before starting this mission? If I get my hands around that bastard’s neck I swear.”
My hands slowly start motioning the action of strangling air while Gregg returns his focus on the captain.
“It is very likely that if we enter the territory of the raiders we will be set upon by these EMP weapons, leading to critical failure to weapons aboard this ship besides the ones not relying on electrical means. And considering most weaponry we are currently in possession of are railguns and other energy weapons such as lasers and the top-mounted particle beam of the Stigma, we’d be in tough luck.”
“Wait, a particle beam? This damned cruise ship has a particle beam cannon? How in the hell are we powering it in the outlands?” I ask Gregg as he glances over it.
“The Stigma has a rather powerful engine, brute. You would do well to pick up on such facts next time.” A haughty voice mentions from beside me.
“Look here you barbed floweret,” I growl, grabbing hold of the desk while leaning over. “I get that we started on the wrong foot, but as far as I recall, my only mission is to bring you to the destination in an ‘alive’ condition. Now I don’t think I can be arsed to-”
“Jack!” Gregg roars beside me, holding a grip on my shoulders as I finally notice the creaking noises of the desk beneath me. “Get a hold of yourself, I’m just as pissed off as you at the current situation but that doesn’t allow you to scold a superior officer.”
With paced breaths I finally unclench my fingers from the splintering wood, slowly gaining control over my actions once more. “I apologize.” I regretfully say, taking a step back.
“I’m sorry miss Rosethorn, but you should understand that sloshers are usually more emotionally unstable considering their body complications.”
“I understand, continue.” She motions, swift to ignore my outburst with an unbothered yawn.
Clenched teeth allow me to stay where I am as Gregg carries on with his explanations.
“First off, if we are to go into these lands consider picking up extra firearms while inside of the Golden Aurora’s territory. This should help relieve some of the damage that would be done by the EMPs. My highest recommendation however is to lengthen the time of the journey by 2 more days by taking this much safer route here.”
A chart springs up on the desk, outlining a new direction past where Terras has set up his territory, rather than through it. Looking over it myself leaves it as a solid option considering that while the journey would take longer, the chosen route is considerably safer staying much closer to often patrolled areas.
“I’m afraid that.. we cannot do that.” She replies despondently.
“Why not?” I bark out in disbelief.
“You see, if we do not arrive on time, it can have dire consequences for a great many people.”
“Care to enlighten us, captain?” Gregg asks wondering her actions himself.
“I’m afraid I cannot tell. You will find out soon enough after we arrive but until then I have no choice but to stay silent.”
“Great, just great, so you’re tellin’ me that we’re forced to go through the paces of fighting off highly equipped maniacs just because some jackass up top doesn’t want his chewing tobacco delivered late?”
propping myself against the wall I start to grouch, my arms firmly crossed. perhaps jumping off the vehicle at this point might be a good option if self-preservation is concerned.
“Your insubordination unsettles me regarding your capabilities as a bodyguard, blueberry, you would do well to remember that you are in the presence of your superior.” She scornfully reminds me, leaving an equally scornful gaze on my face.
“Yeah, well, with what’s been going on lately I’ve been questioning such things myself, missy.”
Stepping in-between the sparks rising from our staring contest, Gregg tries to calm things down, bringing us back to the subject at hand.
“If there really is no other way, miss Rosethorn then I highly suggest my first option of acquiring non-EMP-impacted weaponry.” He finally mentions, finishing his sermon.
“I’ll bring it up with my officers. Until we arrive at the city of Eminence then, you are dismissed.”
Sand kicks up till miles back, the thundering of wheels echoing throughout the desert wasteland. Outlines of mutated animals in the distance scatter from the discordant reverberations spreading under sweltering heat. A resounding boom breaks the quiet as one of the distant figures collapses unto itself. Cold shades hide figures from harsh sun, but beaming light reflecting off gleaming silver shows no mercy upon cowering shapes.
“Get that damned light outta my face Gregg, I get that you’re practicing your aim but gimme a break here.”
“Oops, my bad.” I hear as he adjusts the position of his sniper, getting the luminescent shimmer out of my eye.
Kicked back on a chair with my feet on the railing leaves a good sight of the city approaching in the distance, high black walls with yellow outlining surround a large gate covered in abstruse murals of angels and gods. Subtlety doesn’t appear to apply anymore these days it seems.
“Any news from Jeremy?”
“Nope, pure radio silence.” He says, taking a small cloth out of his pocket before wiping his scope clean. A quick peek makes him nod, seemingly satisfied, before slinging the firearm on his back.
“Hmph, not even worth askin’ anymore at this point.”
Getting off my ass takes a bit, stretching like a languid cat glued to the seat.
“Damn, this vacation’s almost over ain’t it?”
“Sure is. Like the instructions said, after Eminence we’re to keep tight to her like a bee on honey.”
“Well, let’s get it done.”
My folding chair easily collapses to its transferable state, allowing me to leave the balcony we were settled on through the doorway behind me. Walking through puts me straight on the inside of the large cockpit belonging to the Stigma. Several crew members can be seen monitoring the situation while a driver sits in the middle with the captain perched up behind him.
“Enjoyed your target practice?” I hear one of the workers chuckle beside me as we enter.
“Why yes, very much so.” Gregg replies with a jolly smile, having finally had a chance to fire his precious gun once more.
“Well if it’s any help, seeing a shot like that through the windshield at least boosts morale for the upcoming travels.” He points out, as several others give a thumbs up at Gregg.
A few thankful bows later a voice sounds clear throughout the cabin.
“We’ve got a message coming in captain.”
“Bring him up.” She replies, quickly getting up from her prior sagged position.
A hologram of a man adorned in priest’s garb appears above a small platform dead-center of the room, conjured by a ring of laser inducing widgets hitting photographic plates.
“Welcome, miss Rosethorn and company, to our esteemed city of Eminence.”
“Pleased to meet you, bishop Ryley. As per our agreements we wish to hold shelter inside of your city for a duration of four hours to restock before departing towards our next destination.”
“Oh please, do call me diocesan Ryley, as per our traditions. You are free to stay until the crack of dawn in our beloved ecclesiarchy.” The bishop’s hologram vanishes allowing a clear view.
Looking ahead the gateway slowly starts to open itself, revealing the insides of a sprawling city. Unlike the previous cities I’ve seen, no flying cars meet the air nor are there skyscrapers filling every inch of land. Instead, only a single building stands out from the rest at the center, a massive church-like construct stands perched atop a hill, overlooking its squalid surroundings.
As our convoy clears the entry, protestors stand near the edges of the dock with signs labeling their fervent hate of anything electronic, screaming profanities from behind steel fences.
“A warm welcome.” I mention to my pal standing next to me, taking a keen eye towards any would-be assailants.
“Glimpse, Blueberry, you’re with me. As soon as we arrive at the station we’re leaving to negotiate for the weaponry you requested.” The bitch says as she steps off of her seat.
“I get the need for codenames, but did ya have to?”
“Maybe I’ll leave it when you’ve proven your worth.” Is my answer as she steps off her seat. It’ll have to do.
We step in behind her as she starts walking towards one of the exits, Gregg having a hand on his holster all the while.
Although his sniper can be considered a railgun, he always had a penchant for having a backup for situations where there isn’t any electricity and his batteries run out, considering its valuable commodity nowadays. Everything costs so damn much to power with the pure focus on output rather than efficiency that the only thing allowing us to keep it going is the city generators, the only machines capable of fueling the massive drain.
Don’t think I can blame our ancestors however, It’s hard to keep your head straight when inevitable annihilation awaits you.
We leave the cockpit, walk past the briefing room, and soon enough find ourselves at one of the side entrances of the Stigma.
Underway, Gregg puts on his familiar mask, consisting of grey Kevlar covering his head. A light blue visor stares at me while he makes sure it fits correctly. “How do I look?”
“About as good as always.” I tell him giving a nod of approval.
“Uptight son of a bitch.” Rosethorn curses next to us, raising the eyebrows of both me and Gregg.
“Excuse me, madam?” My partner asks with a robotic voice through the mask.
“That bishop, didn’t you hear him? All those suckers in the Golden Aurora nowadays are obsessed with their status and titles, rather than trying to do any good in the name of their holy whatever.”
For once, I do think I might agree with this prickly blossom. Though this still leaves me questioning her reasonings for having such an outburst.
“Just don’t let that sleazebag hear you say I told you that, though.” She mentions moments before the blast doors in front of us open up.
By this point, several other crew members stand behind us, looking to get a breather in the new zone, no matter how brief.
“Now for one of you I feel like there’s no need to remind, but some here might need a refresher nonetheless.” The captain starts once more towards her two-man escort as we make our way outside. “Leave the talking to me, you hear?”
“Got ya, cap.”
“Understood.”
“Good, now let’s procure those supplies before we get the hell out of here.”
The station in this location looks just as opulent as the temple at the core. Marble paints a blinding visage in the midday sun, feebly trying to become the cynosure as one surveyal of its circumambient reveals dilapidation. Protesting populace’s howling falls on deaf ears as they ineffectually wave presages of phenomena long disproven. Surveillance like always covers my being, giving me a feeling like-.
“You alright buddy?” A voice wakes me from my stupor, making me scratch my head.
“Yeah,” I cough out. “just... lost in thought for a bit.” Remarking before we continue on, my mind unable to get the feeling of being watched out.
My keen scanning of the area sets my friend on edge as well it seems, as his hand hovers over his holster while following my example.
“Stop being so nervous.” Rosethorn speaks out, seemingly noticing our behavior, not bothering to look back. “They won’t be able to do anything currently unless they desire open war, which would be inconvenient for them to say the least.”
Relaxing my senses, I keep my head looking forward as we reach the station. We are met with open air inside as there are no doors, simply entryways between large marble columns. Statues of various model stand on the sides of heroic figures, plaques of their assuredly virtuous actions make sure their legend lives on.
A man in plain brown robes approaches us, holding out a hand for our captain. I make sure to do my best bouncer impression while she starts conversations, Gregg following suit in his own way.
Hands are shaken as our captain sticks straight to the point. “Greetings, we require more preparation than expected and wish to acquire extra firearms if possible. Non-electronic of course.” She adds as if to please him while her true reason is left unknown to her focus.
“Pleased to meet you, esteemed Captain,” He says, bowing while shaking her hand, his sycophantic mannerisms putting a grimace on Rosethorn. “The Reverend Father would most likely be delighted to grant such a request, I’ll send it past him immediately.”
“Clark!” He yells across the smooth floor, a clergyman standing a few steps further walking closer.
“Take news towards Father Ryley that there is a request for additional weaponry.” He mentions to the newcomer who proceeds to walk away, most likely to write it down on paper.
“You will receive a contract soon enough with details on your purchase, along with the shipments.”
“Good.” Rosethorn plainly says before turning around back towards the Stigma.
A confused look between me and Gregg leaves me shrugging and him accepting the easy outcome as we follow her back.
“How the hell did you manage to do that so quickly?” I ask when we step back inside.
“What, you think those guys would miss a chance to make money?” She tells me with an annoyed look, not pointed at me this time. “I doubt the bishop will even hear of it having happened. The city is filled with filth like that.”
Taking the hint a frown appears on my face as well, thinking of the haggard residents we saw while there.
“Not our problem, I suppose.” I convey mostly to myself.
It isn’t long until the four hours pass, leaving us once in front of the Stigma with our newly acquired cargo and a few anxious men standing around us, the priest from before at their front.
Rosethorn takes a quick gloss over the crates before turning towards Gregg
“Glimpse, test these for me would you?”
Gregg takes one of the weapons out of a wooden crate, a simple 9mm carbine not often used anymore inside of the cities I’ve been to, leaving many people within clueless on how to properly test these nowadays. Pulling the charging handle and releasing makes a satisfying sound clear throughout the area. Facing the provided targets, he puts the dial on safe and pulls the trigger, the hammer stays up. Putting the selector lever on semi and testing again makes a clicking noise resound as it drops. A few more tests like this ends with him charging the weapon a few more times before releasing the trigger and squeezing just to be sure as I hear the hammer fall.
He grabs one of the arranged magazines and slots it in, cocking back the gun before starting with semi, followed by two bursts and emptying it on auto.
“Looks to be in good condition, captain.” Gregg says from under his mask as she nods at him.
“Spread the weapons through our crew and across the convoy, make sure every part of it has a back-up before we move out.” She orders as several men carrying crates start moving around with relieved faces.
“Then, I will see myself out.” The priest says, giving a deep bow almost making me fear for his back before he leaves.
“I’m gonna have a quick look at the doc’s place before we move out, might as well bring these there.”
Hoisting two of the boxes of weapons I follow the others while moving down the convoy, showing tips to some of the guards near the Humvees on the way there about their new weaponry and when to use them.
Arriving at the white truck I see the cargo door in the back open as I pull out the last weapon in the case. “Ey doc you there?” I exclaim while peeking inside.
Sure enough, I find him fiddling on an invisible keyboard while a man sits submerged in our treatment vat.
“Huh, didn’t know we had other sloshers on our side.” I stop next to him while taking a look at what he’s doing, propping the gun in my hand against the wall.
“We didn’t, but the modifications I’ve done on this person should allow him to have a decent extra bit of power in him when the fighting begins.”
“How long’ve you been workin on him to get that far Catalyst?” I ask him, remembering the policy of code names from now on. In public, at least.
“What do you think I’ve been doing this entire three day journey so far, sitting on my ass?”
“I mean, honestly? Yeah?”
Snorting, he returns to his task as I notice that it isn’t just one person he’s working on, but three. As I find two similar containers sitting in further back.
“You’re really gettin’ this down to clockwork aren’t you, guess experimenting on me for that long wasn’t a waste huh? Who would’ve guessed.”
Seemingly ignoring my jabs, I tiredly return to my task of guard duty before I get my ears yelled off again by our benevolent leader. Doc never was much of a talker outside of his profound speeches when it comes to hormone structures and other such topics anyways. That man is more than scrupulous while on the job— he’s sedulous.
Returning to the cabin I find the foldable chair I left on the wall earlier still there, allowing me to give a big grin towards Gregg as I take my seat. Hanging back I prepare myself for a rough ride as the convoy gradually turns around and moves out towards the treacherous outlands once more.
Sparks above the night sky gleam across the desert, filling the heavens above for anyone to feast upon with their eyes. Optics look unfettered across darkened sands with green visions, preying upon would-be guerillas.
“Anything yet?”
“Nothing besides animals, sir.” The radar operator next to me looking at the feed responds.
“Keep looking.”
I sit on my chair overlooking the situation as we bolt through the Terras territory.
The minutes rush past, the bleeping of a radar being the most prominent sound resounding throughout.
The door on my left opens up with a hiss as Gregg returns from his patrol, indicating the shift of our guard, giving me a brief acknowledgment before standing at attention.
A yawn reminds me of my dismantled sleeping rhythm as I stand up and start walking towards the captain’s office. Having to stay up long nights was always the worst part of this gig. Being able to inject adrenaline at any moment gives me some comfort when it finally comes to action however, unlike my poor friend. On my way there several security guards patrolling greet me while moving past.
Entering through the door a temporary sentry salutes me in silence before exiting out, holding watch near the outside of the door. The captain doesn’t even so much as look up as she continues with her work while I station myself at her side.
“You sure maxed out security.” My voice halfheartedly mentions after a few minutes of tranquility.
“I’m not one to ignore professional opinion.”
“Professional, huh?”
“If I cannot trust you, then I can at least trust my advisors who assigned you your job, wouldn’t you think so?” She snarks, finally changing her demeanor as she faces me.
Me raising my shoulders is her only response before she continues on with her prior task. I glance over, noting that her screen is slightly lopsided, the cause is found in the crooked desk underneath.
Before I can contemplate too much on how this will affect my mission report, a voice calls out through a speaker above— panic clear in its tone.
“Captain, we request your presence in the cockpit. We have a visual.”