The quiet clunks and metalic murmur noises etching across the vessel disuaded Quinn from entering into the mess hall. He could see inside it for a moment, a pretty small mess hall that served the few thousand or so crew aboard the vessel, plus its compliment of operatives. Fuuck... He wished he took more of that alcohol with Amyé, but at least he got some of it, he thought.
His cyan eyes glanced away, as he continued walking down the halls of the vessel, an interconnecting mess of lights, drones and humans walking by. He furrowed his brow slightly as he entered into Deltastring's barracks. It was filled with many operatives, some of which waved to Quinn as he entered.
He waved back, might as well! He placed on a cheery grin, nodded at them before turning in towards the long line of quarters. An arming drone hovered over towards him, and unscrewed his exoskeleton for him, as he kept walking.
Ugh... The fresh feeling of cool air on his back and limbs always unnerved him. He shivered slightly, as he entered into his quarters. Never got used to it, he mumbled to himself.
"Hey, Lilly!" He turned into the bunk bed room and... She wasn't there. Quinn rolled his eyes, before entering. "Alright... time to make sure she didn't find it..."
Quinn knelt down beside his bunk bed. He got the bottom one. He slid his hands between the matress and the metal frame, opening it to reveal several small boxes, slim - barely noticeable. He chuckled to himself. "Heh... Least I can still rely on you, good on alcohol..."
Thinking back to the alcohol only made him feel a strange sense of nostalgia for home. Narisa was his home, Quinn thought. Yet... it doesn't feel like that was the case anymore. Their cruiser looked broken beyond repair, more so than a decade ago. He frowned, ugh... He couldn't find the words to describe any fucking thing.
"Maybe I should take the NATs..." Quinn muttered to himself. He hid the alcohol bottles. If he took the NATs, maybe he'd get into one of those posh fucking universities... But who was he kidding, he was a stupid fucking idiot, plus the NATs were so competitive and stressful that even the thought of it gave Quinn a migraine.
Plus, both Lizzie and Arb told me that it’s so stressful that some can’t handle the failure, apparently failing is a massive thing in more civilised planets in the Republic… Though, he guessed that’s why the Army has so many ‘conscripted voluntary recruits’.
Apparently, from what is comrades in the marines told him, many people were economically pressed into the army, mainly because of how competitive practically everything was… Real-estate… maintenance guys, government guys… He named the top three things that first came to his head.
Quinn threw the thought away back over his shoulder, he wouldn't be needing it. Sitting down at the single desk in the room, Quinn relaxed a bit. "Ah..."
Still, Quinn's eyes kept thinning with each thought of home. Osmond and Leon are still alive... After all this time. Yet, they weren't the same stupid teenagers back then, everyone had changed, Quinn thought. Looking back at himself, it seems like he's still that same, thieving boy.
Does that boy even belong here? Back out in the commons, Quinn knows that those people there are some heavy hitters, veterans of the Rebellion and Clandestine on top of that! What is he compared to them?
Riharia's dead. Petra's dead. Leon and Osmond are all that he has left to his past. But... is that even a past worth his time, Quinn pondered. Alone by himself, he grumbled, swinging back on the chair that he and Lilly always fought over... Well, mainly Lilly.
He stood up, pacing around the room and then turned to his bunk bed. Maybe... one sip would ease his mind. He wasn't allowed to drink, at least on active duty... Their booze ration was always a bit dull, but he had aged beer! Or... wine... Whatever Archius said or whatever.
He sat down on the bed. Yeah... It sounded rather nice. He has a lot to think on... Simply put, he wanted nothing more than just to ease that damn FUCKING migraine. Just a little bit, just a lil' bit.
∗ ∗ ∗
"How the fuck could..." Leon trailed off. He was pacing around the secondary command deck of their hauler corvette.
It was the only thing that they really had left after the raid. "Leon..." Osmond started. "Let's just focus on the wounded, alright?"
"Don't lecture me on what to do, you handle that..." he sneered. He peered out of the command deck window. All that the man could see was snow... Osmond didn't know what to think. How many were dead? He didn't know.
In the chaos, barely a tenth got out, he thought. From what he's heard from his men, they barricaded them in like animals... slaughtered them all enmasse! He gritted his teeth as he looking down to a few of the smuggler's commanders. Most were in bad shape, being healed and spruced up by medical drones. Dammit... What should he do?
He left the command room, venturing through the numerous halls of the vessel. Past medical wards, infirmaries and quarters. There were filled to the brim with people. Still, this was barely a scratch for their true numbers before the raid. Did... how many had died?!
He looked to the side, seeing two people in one of the private quarters. Ah! It was Atria, one of his sub-commanders from the past. He rushed towards, leaning against the door frame in the barely repaired hauler. "Atria, you got out..."
They have to escape the planet, Osmond thought. Damn his contract or deal with that fucking spy or whatever. He had his people to care about, not some fucking deal with him! He steeled himself, as he peered over Atria's shoulder. She was slowly sobbing... Huh?
She was carrying onto the second person. They were... dead, a tall corpse in her arms. He stopped in his movements. He... nodded, and left. Fuck... Those bastards, Contract-Breakers! They'll kill them all! He... he has to find a way to save his people, Osmond thought. That was all that mattered. He'll probably die, yeah... This uplink on his ear will mind-snare him on command.
Still, he knew that he had to do something. But... What? Maybe... He could play both sides? No! No... Osmond played himself down. He'll give that spy as little information as possible, and when they're not looking - the smugglers will GTFO. That was the plan! It has to be the plan!
He continued walking through the vessel, entering into an elevator going down to the gunnery decks. He kept his outside exterior calm and motivated to those around him... However, in the elevator, he slowly crumpled to the wall. "Fuck... Just... What do I do?!"
Quinn... His mind hasn't even caught up to that piece of information. Quinn! Of all people he's alive... Of course he is, he's the best gunman he's known. Riharia and Petra... are they dead? Osmond's mind couldn't conclude on it, he needed to ask Quinn, but he's fighting against them!
Maybe... Maybe he'll switch sides?! All they have to do is escape the system. Quinn went to the military, then became a mercenary, he must be able to help them with that! He ventured out towards his post on the gunnery decks. He'll sleep beside his men for the time being, he has to keep them all together - because Leon sure isn't!
Exiting out, he was met with even more sights of torment that stung his heart. People were missing limbs, they were wounded up and down. The Contract-Breakers... those agents did this. Even if they outnumbered them, it didn't matter!
The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
"Dammit..." Osmond muttered to himself. He walked through the dingy, half repaired halls of the vessel, entering into a gunnery deck, with makeshift hammocks present. This vessel was a hauler, but it still had some defences, luckily. He was alone in the room, walking up to his hammock - and sitting down on it.
Just what does he do? He didn't know, he couldn't know. With nothing in his mind sorted out, he only knew that they could have one singular objective: survive. Quinn... Just how long have you been suffering? Osmond asked to himself. Maybe he can convince him to switch sides... It'll cause his death, yes, but Quinn is more suited to leading them than Leon is!
The thoughts stirred in his head. Then, his courage seeped away... No. He just has to play their game... Just a little longer, until he can save them all, he thought. With that, he rested his head against the rough cloth hammock - and closed his eyes.
∗ ∗ ∗
A strange memory flooded in, of the past. Quinn was playfully toying with a few of his weapons, using a few things he stole from the quartermaster. He won’t mind! Osmond never really cared that badly about individual parts, so who’d care if a lil’ here and there were put to use?
The questioned answered itself, something about a rhino terrific thing or whatever... Quinn yawned, turning back out across the command quarters. Riharia, Petra, Osmond and Leon – all talking to one another.
Why not get involved!? Spurring up, Quinn seemingly hit something. Ow! A headache slammed into his mind – with an oozing sense of discomfort coming right after. Ugh... Rubbing it, Quinn tried to speak.
No words came from him. Clearing his vision, nothing was around him, all four of them were gone – and he was all alone.
Dullness set in. Ughh..... Not now... Quinn groaned, slowly opening his eyes.
There was 'rain' outside... Though it was little more than sewage water drippling down the Sub-Levels. He found himself in a rough but warm environment, darkness consumed the Sub-Levels outside, with various walkways and platforms stretching from house to house on some fuck-off-who-care's Sub-Level ceiling.
He felt a pat on the back. "Hey, get the fuck up, we just got a call for a reassignment." It was Lilly's voice... What does she want now?
He turned his head to her. His head was aching... Quinn placed a hand to it, he must have had a drink before... Fuck... "Hey, know where Claire is?" asked Quinn.
"No clue," said another voice. Quinn raised his head to Petra. She had dark brown hair with green eyes, peering down at Quinn. "Come on, Deltastring's been called on some emergency mission."
"What about... Heimfall?" asked Quinn, standing up. The bar was filled with operatives, mainly Clandestine, none of them were drinking - however, all seemed to be waiting for a command. All of them had the signature white colour paint of Deltastring, hell yeah, Quinn thought, yawning. "We never go on mission without 'em or Arbiter."
Lilly shrugged. "Apparently they're gonna rendezvous with us at the location. Some isolated system. I haven't heard from Sato or Archius... Got me a bit worried."
"Hmmn?" Riharia piped up, with Tifta standing beside her, arms crossed. "You sure the orders are for us? I thought we were just going to be on Sub-Level duty 'till Kazuki or Sato come back."
Lilly glanced around at the rest of the occupants in the bar. "Come on! Get the fuck up already, you lazy asses, get out there and watch for our shuttles!" she ordered them. The men instantly followed through, leaving the bar. "Keep your eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary, m'kay?"
"You got it," one of the operatives said, leaving the bar through a small doorway, out onto the pontoon and makeshift paths and rafters holding the cobweb of houses, shops and establishments to the ceiling of the Sub-Level.
Quinn yawned again. Agh, he doesn't wanna go to some fuck off place remote. There's barely be anything good to collect, nor does Quinn think the booze will be any good. He sighed, nodding and standing to attention for Lilly. "You could have just left me here, you know?" he jeered.
Lilly grumbled. "I would have if you didn't owe me a few hundred standardis!" She left the bar, followed by her command staff. Quinn peered down through the claustraphobic gaps in the floor boards, makeshift all the way, he thought. Ugh... He still felt sick.
"Hey, I'll pay you back soon, alright?" said Quinn.
Riharia interjected, "You better not steal from any of us... You'll only be shifting your creditor to someone else." She smirked, patting Quinn on the back as they walked out onto a collection of shuttle platforms, hanging using hover-lifts. Shuttles were already parking...
There were already operatives in armour there, with Deltastring's first and second sections present on the platforms. "Where's there other company?" asked Quinn.
Lilly shrugged. "Apparently they're already getting there," she said. Quinn glanced out at the groups of operatives, all conversing with one another.
It felt kinda weird being Deltastring's 2iC, given how many here had far more scars than him. Lilly took a step forward with Petra.
Tifta said, "Oi, Quinn, don't dwaddle in the back alright." He chuckled, before following on after Lilly.
They don't see him like they see Lilly, which Quinn presumed was kinda a good thing? Well, they're far more chill with him, which he was happy with, but they don't hold his name with as much respect they do to their commander. If she's around, Quinn thought, he doesn't have much to worry about.
Still, Quinn found himself keeping some barrier between him and his men. Maybe he was imitating Lilly... Quinn wasn't sure about it at all. His eyes were locked across the platform, thinking to himself.
"You... good?" Riharia asked, peering into his face from the side.
"Ugh?" Quinn snapped awake. "Yeah?"
Riharia glanced to the rest of the batallion, before shifting her gaze back to Quinn. "Look, Quinnie, they ain't like the gunrunners, but that's fine, hell, maybe it's an upgrade? Better Lilly than Leon, right?" she joked.
Quinn nodded. "Yeah... But Osmond and Leon always had cool shit I could just take randomly, though."
Riharia quietly laughed, turning as the shuttle doors opened. The... shuttles were already filled with people? Huh? Some quiet murmurs were raised across the operatives. Then, Quinn saw the blackstripes of the operatives in the shuttles. They were Clandestine Seekers.
Machine guns rotated towards them, Quinn saw half a dozen armour plates and bodies splatter in front of him. His mind became blank under fire, with returning fire from the survivors dislodging the Seekers. Quinn's body reacted without haste, grabbing onto Riharia and throwing themselves into cover.
"FUCK. FUCK FUCK!?" Quinn shouted, peering out onto the platforms. Deltastring's operatives were falling back into cover, with an exchange of bolts and plasma ensueing. His eyes glanced to the dead bodies... Tens of them already lay dead. FUCK!
"What the fuck is going on?!" Riharia shouted, readying her shotgun and firing out of cover.
Petra... Lilly... Petra... Quinn kept scanning across the barricades of survivors. PETRA! She was with Lilly. It... eased him for a moment... As the oldest, Quinn knew he had to protect them... Riharia nudged Quinn.
"WAKE UP!"
"I AM!" shouted Quinn.
Their uplinks awoke from slumber. 'CLANDESTINE'S GATTING US. FUCK... ALL UNITS ON THIS FREQUENCY, FALL BACK! TEAMS WITH ME, FUCKING KILL 'EM!' It was Lilly, barking orders. 'HEY, YOU SEEKER FUCKS! WE'LL BE SHOVELLING YOU DOWN THESE PLATFORMS!'
'You didn't need to tell me twice!" replied Quinn. The shuttles were taking heavy fire - and under the onslaught, Clandestine Seekers rushed forward. Smoke grenades ignited across the platform.
Quinn grinned, feeling a shake of adrenaline rush up. He lugged his own shotgun up. Opening fire, Quinn rushed out onto the platform, with Deltastring counter-attacking against the Loyalist Seekers - bearing through the brunt of gunfire and their losses.
Kiri's drones slammed into the shuttles, sending them careening towards one another, a fireball igniting in the air - steeling collapsing and falling down to the surface. Those that remained were tough old Clandestine vets. The sight of their comrade's demise didn't phase them that much. Neither did his own to Quinn, rushing through the smoke and turning their insides out with plasma shot in close range.
A new signal have arrived. 'THIS IS SATO QUATRIX! LILL! RENDEZVOUS WITH THE SURVIVORS OF THE OTHER COMPANIES.'
'The fuck is going on?!' Lilly shouted.
'I'll explain later! We're meeting up with Arbiter and his survivors, just get a move on!'
Through the smoke, Quinn could see everyone's worried faces, Lilly and Riharia's included. But as long as he's alive, Petra, Riharia and he will get the hell through whatever the fuck is going on! He knows it.
At least... That was what he would have thought in the past... Quinn's eyes opened... He was slouched down on the floor... A bright white hue was beaming onto him. He felt exhausted... His mind was fucking him up. Then he remembered... Riharia's already dead. So is Petra.
Then... what is he even doing here? Rotting away, slouched against the wall of some quarters orbitting a death world.
Barely anyone from back then's still alive... What's he even doing here?