Three checkpoints in and it'd been smooth sailing, but with the fourth check-in point still a ways away Evan knew better than to become lax in her positioning or attentiveness. The rest of the crew was of a similar mindset, going about their duties with the same level of diligence present at the first checkpoint. Granted everything up till now had generally fallen under expectations, aside from maybe New Kantler declaring its less agreeable citizens as terrorists.

Those of whom they could be expecting a visit from soon. What with the upcoming section of the route offering far more favorable raid conditions by way of topography. During such stretches convoys couldn't do much outside of tightening up the formation and putting their foot on the gas.

In the past attempts had been made at making high traffic routes safer via developing the landscape, unfortunately a severe lack of resources, namely labor, made such projects nigh impossible to complete. In the rare cases where the projects were successful they’d still require semi-regular maintenance to account for wear and tear or intentional acts of vandalism. Maintenance that would require its own security force to safeguard revitalization efforts. Taking this into account, along with the extensive size of Luridia’s territories across the Expanse, the CoT&C decided such efforts weren’t viable. Not without direct help from member states at least.

It was determined that resources would be better spent on the training and equipping of more field service personnel in hopes of nullifying the advantage some routes gave to raiding parties. But even then, the steady expansion of Luridia continued to spread the LCF thin. Leading to understaffed crews becoming the regular in many regions.

So, when the numbers game is an uphill battle, how does one even the playing field? The answer, information. The more informed a convoy, the better prepared. Hence the importance of check-in points along any given route. And those were only the times when convoys were required to contact the station of arrival. Head communications officers regularly traded observations and concerns with their AC’s (assisting communications officers) along the route to make more accurate predictions or narrow down possible threats.

In cases where convoys made it from one station to another without so much as a visit or raid attempt success would be attributed to the predictions and observational prowess of their CO’s. In all likelihood the competence of her current convoy’s COs would decide the outcome of the political debacle they’d walked into. And so far, so good.

"It’ll be interesting to see which raiding party we encounter today."

Evan glanced over at Trislter who, to no surprise, was nearing the filter of what had to be smoke number six or seven.

"Each one often has its own eccentric traditions or styles. Creates a unique sense of community I’d imagine. Not unlike Crusader crews in some aspects."

"You’re telling me that they also engulf coworkers with secondhand smoke?"

Evan scrunched her nose and attempted to retreat into her jacket, fanning the area around her face at the same time. Tristler on the other hand reached the end of his current smoke and flicked it overboard nonchalantly. But rather than take Evan's snarky comment at face value, fished the carton from his breast pocket and pulled out another.

"By all accounts Needless Frenzy is just a bunch of maniacs bathing in yellow sunshine. Quiet Murn though, they’re an interesting bunch."

"Just going to ignore me then."

"They have a practice related to one of the Expanse’s phenomena. You familiar with the Empyrean Orchestrate?"

"I'm familiar. Not like it’s unusual to hear them during convoys."

"Hear them today and we won’t be worrying about Quiet Murn. I suppose you could say they see it as a sacred occurrence. I mean everyone's got their theories, but to them the Empyrean Orchestras are performances by angels for angels. Specifically the moment an angel descends into our world to offer guidance. But perceiving that guidance requires both heed and silence from the audience, hence the decision not to carry out raids.”

"That why they’re called Quiet Murn, cause they rely on that silence?"

"Nope. That’s something else entirely."

Tristler took a long drag and gazed out the doorway leading to the platform. Meanwhile Evan leaned her head back against the corridor wall and sorted through the information she’d just received.

"You know, if the city of New Kantler is so dead set on pushing scripture, then least they could do is call down an angel or two. Help us out."

“That would be nice...”

The two resumed a comfortable silence, save for the soft blowing of smoke. Fortunately, Tristler had moved over to the platform making it so smoke no longer accumulated in the corridor junction. The space Evan was currently occupying as she alternated between safeguarding the engine room and cargo bay.

"Succumb to the fumes yet?"

A voice drifted down the ladder way.

"Fuck off Nocks! Or switch with me early! I’m better suited for deck officer anyway!"

[Nocks Engler, 23, Security Division]

"No can do, but you can have this."

Evan watched as a granola bar came flying down the ladder way towards her face. She caught it and stuffed it inside her jacket with a huff.

"I figured since you're already protecting the cargo I'd add to your charge. Protect that with your life."

"It'll be cold day in hell before I start relying on you for motivation!"

Evan anticipated some manner of fleeing remark but was instead treated to a puzzled reply that seemed unrelated to their current spat.

"When did that get there?"

“…”

"Nocks, hit the deck!"

A voice that was unmistakably Lux's echoed out from above. Followed by a burst of gunfire. The gunfire could be heard peppering the deck and railing above them, prompting Evan to hastily make for the weak side platform.

She’d barely exited the doorway when a strong hand pulled her to the side violently, knocking the wind out of her as she bounced off the wall. A hail of bullet fire occupying the space she'd just been in.

Tristler, her savior, stepped forward far enough to return fire. Forced to speculate on the position of the attackers as they didn't have a direct visual. Evan took the opportunity to regain her breath and stole a glance at Tristler whose usual nonchalance was nowhere to be found, along with the lower half of his right ear. She watched as the blood streamed down the side of his neck and began to soak into his collar. It looked gnarly.

"Tree line 35 meters, changing firing position as we speak."

Evan dropped into a kneeling position and searched the foliage for abnormal movement.

"If we assume they're moving parallel to the convoy, the stairway to the front deck is out.”

That would make them easy targets, or...easier targets.

"I'll lay down cover fire, you head up from the strong side."

Evan reached up and plucked the smoke from Tristler’s mouth, placing it in her own. Then got ready to break for the doorway. This was fine, no need to panic yet. Once she reached the front deck from the opposing platform she'd have a better grasp of their current predicament. The extent of which sounded discomforting based on the intermittent gunfire raging from all over the convoy. And aside from Lux’s warning from the front deck, no further callouts had been made. Was everyone pinned like they were?

"Go."

Mindful to keep her head down, Evan sprinted beneath Tristler’s line of fire and threw herself back through the doorway into the corridor. As she covered the distance between platforms she signaled Vedmann, who’d stuck his head out of the engine room, to stay put. Emerging on the strong side platform she sprinted up the stairs to the front deck. She spotted Lux at the helm scanning the weak side for hostiles. It was then that the barrage came to an abrupt stop signaling the end of the attack. Both officers dropped their barrels and met each other’s gaze.

“Talk about breaking the tension.”

Evan felt the tension leave her body as she padded up to her sister-in-arms.

“They getcha?”

Lux motioned towards her torso. Looking down she saw that one side of her jacket had been shredded by a near miss or two. Thankfully the excessive size of her jacket meant her body was unharmed.

“Not quite. I owe Trist one.”

Evan suddenly remembered the smoke hanging from her mouth and took a drag before flicking it overboard.

“Speaking of, let’s go remind Nocks I just saved his ass.”

The two remained on alert as they descended the strong side stairway. Their destination, the bridge.

*

Having achieved his objective of antagonizing Evan and getting rid of the granola bar he'd found in his pocket from who knows when, Nocks needed only deliver the finishing verbal blow to cement his personal victory over the monotony of field service.

But it was as he stood outside the entry to the ladderway and bridge, ruminating over an effective comeback, that something in the distance grabbed his attention. In the same breath, something about the environment underwent a sudden change. He couldn't say whether the visual cue in the distance had served as the initiator for the change or worked in tandem with it, but the circumstances of its presence already had his mind racing down a list of possibilities.

"When did that get there—?"

Those words fell from his mouth. As in the sound of his voice abruptly died off towards the end of his rhetorical question. A fresh wave of confusion swept over Nocks, but before it could overwhelm him a voice belonging to Lux cut a path straight to his senses.

"Nocks, hit the deck!"

Nocks managed to shake the confusion in time to react to the warning, throwing himself through the entryway and nearly down the ladder as a hail of gunfire sprayed the back deck. An urge to cry out in frustration at the surprise attack presented itself but couldn't be realized for some reason, frustrating him further.

As if to pile on he felt a growing wetness around the back of his left calf, indicating he'd been hit. A closer inspection of the wound site revealing a possible ricochet. Undoing his belt, Nocks rolled up the left pant leg and applied the makeshift tourniquet above the calf but below the knee. He grit his teeth as pain began to set in, prompting him to fish a small bottle of morphine from his side pouch. A few beads of sweat leaving his nose as he applied the prick and relief flooded the area.

Getting to his feet, he tested putting weight on his left leg and concluded doing so shouldn't exacerbate the damage. He’d be able to carry on until Belveer at least. Nocks thought back to the visual cue as gunfire continued to rage outside.

A flagpole. Someone had planted a flagpole along the route. But based on where he'd seen it, an area the convoy had passed through only moments before, there was no way that it could have gone unnoticed by all of on-duty deck officers. Someone would have made the call. Meaning it had to have been placed in the brief window of time that the convoy passed the flagpole's current position and Nocks noticing it.

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A signal to attack the convoy? Possibly. Or perhaps its purpose was to relay the convoys current position to allies further down? Turns out critical thinking with a throbbing calf and a backdrop of gunfire was a big ask.

Hobbling his way onto the bridge, Nocks felt a pang of irritation at the relative composure on display by its two occupants. Only when the CO girl turned and saw him enter did she show signs of concern, specifically at the state of his leg.

"You should sit down!"

She urged him bringing the chair typically reserved for comms over. Nocks brushed her off and directed his attention towards Cade.

"What the fuck just happened?!"

Despite the obvious fire behind his words Nocks couldn't muster the necessary volume to express it. As a result his words came out more like a gentle scold than angry confusion.

"I'd say we just got someone’s best crack at guerrilla warfare."

Cade still refused to turn around when piloting.

"You sound awfully unimpressed jackass! From the safety of the bridge that is!"

"Speaking of sound, what’s going on with your voice right now?”

Cade’s question came as the girl continued to hover with the chair. She also wore a disapproving face at the blood he was leaving on the floor.

"How the hell should I know?! More importantly, what kind of guerrilla warfare involves planting flags behind us?!"

That got the engineer’s attention apparently. His face showed confusion and a touch of concern.

"A flag? Behind us?"

"The attack has officially subsided."

The comms girl chimed in from her spot close by, hand on one side of the headset. And sure enough the sounds of gunfire had ceased. Only the gentle hum of the Crusader beneath them remained.

"The Head Communications Officer is also reporting that an officer onboard Crusader C384 has recovered something of potential interest."

"Use shorthand Esma, the information is more important than who supplied it."

So hover girl's name was Esma. Must be new.

“I’ll adjust. No casualties are being reported and the condition of the injured is still being assessed."

Nocks raised his injured leg unceremoniously.

"Well feel free to report the new hole in my calf. I'm gonna go check on things downstairs."

As he made to leave he felt Esma following within arm's reach.

"I don't need help."

"I wasn't intending to give it. I assumed from your attitude that you’d rather suffer in silence and bleed everywhere. I’m going to see if any of the other security officers have injuries to report."

This girl had one hell of a mouth on her. Come to think of it, Lux mentioned someone speaking out against Heenan earlier. Said girl brushed past him and began descending the ladder, a prospect Nocks and his calf weren't looking forward to.

"Yo Esma! You happen across Nocks’s body up there?"

Lux and Evan appeared down below, both preparing to head up. Esma pulled herself back up into the entryway and moved aside so they could both ascend. Evan looked worse off than Lux, her oversized jacket having seen better days.

"Nocks, you're still kicking! Er...with your right leg at least. You want to thank me now or later?"

"Did either of you feel a change in our surroundings before shots were fired?"

"Later it is then."

Lux remarked as Evan went out onto the back deck in favor of the bridge.

"Nothing outside of the usual sense of impending doom. I only managed to call out in time because one of those suckers moved prematurely, mistake he won’t be making again."

"You were able to call out just fine though? You felt like you could project?"

"You heard me from the front deck didn't you. What I want to know is why everyone else stayed so quiet during the exchange?"

"Your voice is back to normal now."

Esma pointed out to him. Still here for some reason.

Lux looked over inquisitively at Nocks, "What got you so choked up?"

Before he could defend himself, Evan returned from scoping out the back deck.

"Esma, if your putting together an injury report, Tristler lost the lower half of his right ear. Already applied some basic first aid on the way up."

Esma nodded and moved back over to the comms equipment to make the report. Cade having already checked up on Vedmann via speaking tube for her. Lux parked herself on the bridge’s center console, leaving Nocks and Evan in the entryway.

"That granola bar survive the attack? I could use a snack as a pick me up."

"Sorry, needed to distract Tristler while I worked on his ear. Smoking alone wasn’t enough to take the edge off this time around."

Nocks could really use something to take the edge off himself. A swig from the elixir of life would have to tide him over.

*

"A canister?"

"Yes, a canister. An empty one at that. No outwardly identifiable features."

Esma was currently conferring with Reefe, the comms officers aboard the Crusader who recovered the canister in question. Apparently one of the security officers discovered it from the strong side platform of all places during the hit and run.

"Collecting cans ain't rare in field service, but they're usually carrying smoke. Hussards throw ‘em to cover the approach for Volts and Demens."

Esma had read as much during her studies at the academy. Didn’t make much sense in this set of circumstances though.

"But there weren't any approaches, and smoke would have hurt more than helped in this scenario."

"The possibility remains that it's litter from a previous convoy, but where we found it is too convenient."

She agreed, and the canister more or less confirmed suspicions that the raiders or one of the factions had been camping this portion of the route ahead of time. Giving credence to Reefe’s postulation that one of the groups simply dropped or forgot the canister.

"Hey, you're talking about the thing Preece recovered right? Tell 'em to throw it over, I want to see it."

Lux poked her head over Esma’s right shoulder and prodded at her opposite cheek.

"Um, would it possible to pass the canister over to C248? Some of ours would like to have a look at it."

"That could be...difficult. Flannery's already reported the find to Belveer along with the details from the attack. They would be none too pleased if an object of interest didn't reach the station for further analysis."

Lux strode over and snatched the headset from Esma's head, as if she somehow knew where the course of the conversation was going.

"For fuck's sake Reefe just toss it over already! I'll catch the damn thing as long as you throw it far enough!"

"Oi! We're talking about an empty canister here! Weight and wind become a factor."

"So put something heavy in it!"

"..."

"I'll be waiting on the back deck."

Lux checked out of the conversation, immediately returning the headset to Esma before exiting the bridge. The brunette could still make out Reefe’s shouting from the speaker.

"Hold on! Let's at least pass it between the platforms!"

"I'm afraid she’s already left."

Esma could already picture Lux standing on the back deck with her arms crossed. Gaze fixed on the Crusader across the formation from them.

"Sounds good, I'll call down to Vedmann and have him collect it."

Cade who still wore the additional headset chimed in to help move things along. Esma offered a nod in the reflection to show her appreciation.

"You can go ahead and pass it over from the platform. They'll be someone there to receive it."

One very high-stakes game of catch later, exasperated by a certain security officers relentless heckling from the deck, and the empty canister was now safely in C248's bridge. Lux snatched it from the console up first and began her version of a thorough examination.

"Looks like an ordinary smoke canister."

She brought the opening to her face and huffed the nonexistent contents.

"Doesn't smell like one though."

Lux gestured the canister towards the other occupants of the bridge, her way of asking if either wanted a whiff for themselves. As expected everyone declined, uninterested in putting an object of questionable origin and purpose up to their faces.

"Well we can't have Tristler smell it, he'll contaminate the evidence. Where's Nocks?"

"Brooding downstairs. Still seems put off from earlier."

Evan offered as she picked at the damaged portion of her jacket.

Cade sighed and got everyone's attention with several loud snaps of his fingers. Like really loud snaps. Esma questioned whether Cade's fingers were even flesh and bone with snaps so severe.

"No one else needs to go huffing canisters, but I would like one of you to grab Gandlin. I need to ask him something pertinent."

While Evan left to fetch Tristler the others resumed their amateur investigation. Finally getting her hands on the canister, Esma found it to be unremarkable in every way. It many ways it reminded her of an empty can of preserved food.

"Not to be that girl, but isn't it possible this has nothing to do with anything and we're all just wasting time and energy that would have been better spent strategizing on how to handle future attacks?"

The crew responded with blank stares, save for Cade who obviously knew something they didn’t.

"I'd be a supporter of that theory if not for Nocks's recounting of the attack."

"You’re referring to the flag."

"Not the flag, although that is worth acknowledging. His short-term voice troubles is what has my attention."

Esma hadn't given much thought to the security officer's prior voice struggles and had attributed it to the stress of the moment. But would a flag going up and a bullet to the calf be enough to challenge a field service veterans mental fortitude? Improbable, granted most security officers didn't have hands on experience dealing with guerrilla warfare. Or so she was led to believe. The reactions or lack thereof of a few choice officers said otherwise.

Just then Tristler entered the bridge. To occupant’s pleasant surprise he'd put out his smoke ahead of entering. In doing so the residing scent coming from his person was fairly benign.

"Hold on, I think I can smell smoke now!"

At some point Lux, indifferent to the conversation taking place, had resumed her fervent scent evaluation of the canister.

"Lux."

She lifted her head and saw the actual source of the smell.

"Oh."

She tossed the canister aside with woeful abandon, Esma having to go over and collect it from the floor for Reefe's sake.

"You rang Cade?"

Said engineer motioned for Lux to take the controls, something she seemed awfully giddy about, and came over to the console.

"I understand you're well informed in regard to raiding parties in the west, and I have reason to believe that the canister we recovered might be related to one of Quiet Murns raiding tactics."

"Hah! That explains earlier. Didn’t peg this roster as the silent stoic types."

"So there is such a thing?"

"Sure is! Ladies and gents we've fallen victim to Harlecher's gas, better known as Pipe Down."

Anticipating an explanation was inbound, Esma tossed her headset over to Tristler and rushed over to the switchboard. Setting the transmission target to the convoys shared frequency. No need to waste time re-explaining all this later.

"The name Pipe Down comes from the method used to find the natural gas serving as the main component. Evidently, the gas in its pure form is both colorless and inodorous. It’s the mixture of the gas with the other ingredients that gives it a subtle nutty aroma. Anyways, the only way to identify a natural source is by finding plants and wildlife who can perceive it. And an old coot by the name of Winstan Harlecher was the first to make the distinction."

Tristler paused for a moment, wanting to make sure everyone had time to digest but also because he wanted to build suspense. He didn’t get as many chances as he would like to exhibit knowledge built on years of traveling for field service.

"Harlecher found that whenever he ventured down a nearby seaside path that he'd temporarily lose his voice at the same portion every time. Sharing the area but several meters below the path he found an abundance of a coastal plant life called Pipe Cattails. Turns out that portion of the path sat beside a natural gas vent. And given that the gas is heavier than air, it accumulated at the bottom of the cliffside. The location of which the cattails prospered and grew in excess.”

“I’d be interested to learn the biology behind their relationship.”

“To my understanding it’s a natural alternative to photosynthesis for species of plants who receive limited amounts of sunlight or none at all.”

“Nature finds a way I guess...”

An eloquent way to put it Esma supposed. From Lux no less who it turns out, was still paying attention.

"So this gas essentially makes you lose your voice."

"Pretty much. If you want to go into specifics it hinders the vibration of your vocal cords."

As engrossing a story it was, the theory that this gas was the culprit still had several holes. The most obvious being...

"Why didn't the gas affect everyone onboard?"

"Cade's right, I called out to Nocks without issue. And neither Evan or Encyclopedia Smokey over here had any voice related issues."

Esma found herself questioning whether the Crusader was still headed in the right direction. But looking back, Nocks was the only crew member on C248 who showed obvious signs of being affected. Hence the emergence of his resentful attitude. Cade promptly offered a possible explanation.

"We can rule myself, Esma, Browder and Vedmann out. By virtue of being inside the Crusader it's plausible to assume we avoided direct exposure to the gas. As for Gandlin, it's safe to assume our resident chain smoker’s habit displaced enough of the gas."

"Time to take up smoking I guess."

Lux’s joke earned snickers from most the group. Aside from Cade who was busy solving the gas.

"Lux, I assume you were whistling."

"You know me so well."

The way Lux purposefully let her voice rise and fall in a cutesy sort of manner made Cade grimace.

"Would whistling really be enough?"

"Like I said earlier, this stuff is heavier than air. Add that to the speed the convoy was moving and the window for inhaling the gas would have been small."

"Then why use it at all? Unless they're thrown directly on the Crusader wouldn't it be a waste?"

"Stuffs not easy to come by either, there are limited accounts of its use for raids."

"Nice to know they’re pulling out all the stops for us. Cade can we make this go faster?"

"It's no coincidence that the gas was used in tandem with the attack, obviously they're trying to disrupt onboard communication and synergy."

"Convoys are battles of attrition, they probably employed the gas in an attempt to weaken our combat potential and get our gears turning."

The room settled down after that note and Esma retrieved the headset from Tristler, offering a nod for the assistance he'd provided. Lux begrudgingly returned control of the Crusader back over to Cade, who Esma could tell was still deep in thought. She couldn't blame him.

There was plenty Esma still couldn't get her head around. Why only one empty canister? Surely multiple would have been necessary to cause an effect on a convoy wide scale. Safe to say at least one of the enemy’s objectives had been accomplished in the attack. They had gotten them thinking.