“Did I just hear a whistle...?”
Emica furrowed her brow as she uttered those words to no one in particular, her present company busy jumping around the space as he carried out his duties. That of which only added to her growing restlessness. Both at being confined to the stuffy room and her incomplete grasp of the unfolding situation above. And while it was possible they were intentionally keeping her out of the loop the woman felt such measures would be unjustified as she’d been more than cordial in the offering up of her party’s strategies moving forward.
“Hey pilot!”
She leaned closer to the speaking tube to ensure her voice was being heard, although the attentiveness previously displayed by the pilot suggested it was unnecessary.
“Wash is fine.”
“It’s started right?! They pulled us away with a feint?!”
“It’s ‘us’ now, is it?”
Cade interjected on the raider’s behalf.
“Humor her pilot, she’s cooperated enough.”
“...yeah, motion from the right approach pulled us past the point of no return. Lest we run the risk of losing someone overboard.”
“So it’s ‘we’ now is it?”
Before the man could answer her snark with more of his own Emica refocused on the matter at hand.
“Any insight on who’s leading the approach? Characteristics about the rider or even their bike model will do.”
“I’m afraid that’s a tall order in this interference. Plus they’re on the complete opposite side of the convoy.”
She’d have to infer based on the drums then. And from what she could interpret prior to the whistle sounding, some sort of measure taken by the LCF had proven successful in limiting the approach’s efficacy. Now, whether that same approach balked in response or doubled its own efforts would come down to who led the charge.
Seeing as the drums remained consistent in their thundering even now suggested the latter, which in turn favored Dominique. Ever the party member to chase and prioritize results. Part of a charm she believed would one day elevate her into a position among Baugh’s ranks.
Matus on the other hand, Emica having excluded Duck as she was certain he wouldn’t take part in this visit either, often exercised restraint in matters involving manpower above a certain threshold. Meaning he’d have likely looked ahead to the final castle in favor of sustaining the current visit, seeing more opportunity in keeping his party members fresh and available. More so if they were of Hite’s persuasion. But that mindset also increased the likelihood he’d join his forces with Dominique’s in the event she was leading the charge.
“Wash, could you get Jericka to confirm the remaining distance of the highway?”
The woman looked over at the engineer in approval.
“Right, their numbers will hurt them once the route narrows again.”
“But it means they’ll be more eager to produce results before then.”
“Which means we need to slow them down while we speed up.”
“Jericka's onboard, but we’ll need to signal C274 manually now that they’re at the front of the formation.”
Both occupants of the engine room exchanged glances at the pilot’s words, his tone having betrayed some level of skepticism. The unspoken question being towards whom.
“Does the bridge have reason to believe they’ll reject the notion in favor of a more immediate solution.”
“If Cloud Nine is counting on the interference to slow the convoy’s joint reactive capabilities, then operating independently for a stretch could be the preferred method.”
“Nice of you to join us Jericka.”
“Don’t act like you didn’t just call me out with your ‘bridge’ comment. Besides I've got fuck all else to do until comms can be restored.”
“This would be easier if we joined them upstairs, no?”
Emica figured she’d at least give it a shot, anything to get out of this damned room.
“Your call Cade, you’ve spent the most time with her. And I doubt our security rep would chastise her favorite too harshly.”
The engineer rubbed the back of his neck and angled his head anywhere but the woman in front of him.
“You say that, but Esma should still be onboard.”
“No need to write her off, Youn’s keeping an eye on her.”
The raider couldn’t help but find amusement in the direction the conversation had taken. Surprisingly it was the pilot who’d identified himself as Wash who got things back on track.
“Should we hold a vote?”
“For what, Lux’s favorite or the motion to let our guest onto the bridge?”
“Huh? I mean, Cade’s definitely the favorite and the woman can come up as long as she’s escorted. But I thought the main point of contention was proceeding with independent action or not.”
“Wow, someone’s on top of things today.”
“Things have only gone up since learning it’s actually Wednesday.”
And she was lost again.
“Am I heading to the bridge or not?!”
A beat of silent contemplation before Cade called out through the sliding door.
“Penton, borrow you for a moment!”
He motioned for Emica to come over.
“He’ll bring you up, and this goes without saying but no funny business. We’ve got officers on deck who don’t need an excuse to shoot you.”
It was then Brewer appeared in the door opening looking no worse for wear. The station man had held his own since Faust went on the IL.
“Take her up to the bridge. And take care to conceal her along the way. Don’t want to encourage pot shots from her former companions.”
As unfortunate an end it would be, Emica couldn’t help but feel an attempt would be justified. Because the information she’d shared thus far would no doubt contribute to the downfall of Cloud Nine’s operations in Lamella’s Lands as well as its plans going forward. To say nothing of the loss of life directly related to those failures. And it was for this reason the woman had no intention of taking her betrayal further by joining the LCF in the aftermath of all this. These thoughts followed her as she exited the corridor as was led to the ladderway, the voice of the young engineer still barely reaching her as he continued to confer with the bridge.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll take responsibility...”
*
“Genau, Josep, and I will ditch completely and lead the boarding. Holbrook, get that gangway down and provide cover for the others. No one even sniffs the second level until we’ve blown the door to the cargo bay. Everyone got it?”
“Yes ma'am!”
Such were the orders handed out by Dominique during the lead up to C274. Orders she had no intention of changing even as another Crusader bored its way into their line of approach at the last second. And while she was able to calmly adjust her speed and pursuit angle to account for the sudden incursion, others around her froze or broke off in a panic, inciting small collisions in the process. One of which was violent enough to knock Josep and another from the saddle. Fortunately both executed the oft-practiced tuck and roll procedure to near perfection. Meaning they could be picked up or make it back to their bikes on their own. Possibly in time for the next offensive.
The short haired woman clicked her tongue in irritation and readied herself for boarding, confident the others wouldn’t be far behind her. A task made more difficult by this new Crusader’s preparedness for their arrival. To the tune of two officers already entrenching themselves at the mouth of the corridor.
Rather than provide them an easy target, Dominique retrieved a throwing knife from a compartment on the dominant side of her belt and launched it with a lateral sweep of the arm. She’d half-expected one or both officers to duck away from the throw but instead the closer of the two blocked with his forearm. Allowing the blade to insert itself in what must have been a concealed arm guard. The two promptly raised their rifles, hoping to be rid of her before she got close enough to become a problem. But she wasn’t the only target as Holbrook had appeared and pulled slightly ahead of her.
As a testament to their crew chemistry the two field service personnel settled on separate targets without the need for verbal communication and fired, but Dominique had already leapt from her own bike onto the back of Holbrook’s. Resulting in the round meant for her to ricochet harmlessly off the now empty saddle as the other created a dent in her companion’s stout body armor.
The Volt hissed in pain but stayed the course as his passenger utilized the momentum from her initial jump to do a back handspring off his back. One of the security officers threw out a curse at the acrobatic display and tried but failed to re-adjust his sights in time to get a shot off. Alas the barrel of the rifle was redirected by one of Dominique’s boots as she descended on the platform.
The officer whose rifle had been knocked away immediately swung a backhand at her exposed torso. A mistake as she absorbed the blow through gritted teeth and trapped the man’s arm against her ribcage. His comrade fired his rifle point blank in an attempt to free him but the distance of the barrel was close enough to also be redirected by her free arm. With both men occupied for a breath her two, Holbrook drew up alongside the platform and reached for the gangway’s release mechanism. His effort was thwarted however from a series of shots from above, the deck officers who’d seen fit to make themselves known.
In response the raider pulled off and allowed Genau among others to return fire at the railing above. Dominique on the other hand paid little heed to the exchange transpiring behind her and instead waited for the officer whose arm she had trapped to try an escape from her grasp. Releasing the arm at the first inclination of a tug and using the small window the wayward impetus allowed to drive herself forward into the body of her other adversary. But the man proved stouter than expected and prevented the two from spilling outright into the corridor.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
As the pair struggled for leverage Dominique could make out the sound of another pair of boots hitting the platform. The subsequent grunt of exertion that came as a result of two bodies crashing together violently confirmed the presence to be Genau. And just the knowledge that an ally had finally joined her onboard was enough to renew her vigor, a vigor that translated into a headbutt strong enough to stagger the officer sharing her space. Taking note of this potential swing in momentum the deck officers above shifted the bulk of their attention to those already onboard. Granted it proved difficult to produce quality shots with enemies and allies in such close quarters. But that wasn’t the only thing working in the approach’s favor.
Normally in circumstances like these, where space was plentiful, a boarding party could expect a lateral motion in the direction of the accosted platform. This would scatter the party members congregating around the given platform and if the convoy was lucky take a few out. Such a routine maneuver became difficult however in cases where proper communication wasn’t in effect. The fear being that an approach would anticipate or possibly bait this lateral motion and prepare forces capable of shooting the temporary gap it created in the formation. Creating a hypothetical situation in which a Crusader crew would be forced to fend off a boarding from both sides.
Preventative measures for such a happenstance would have involved having the adjacent Crusader move in concert with its sister Crusader, eliminating the gap that would have otherwise formed. But this contingent required careful coordination between bridges, something that would prove difficult to reproduce under the conditions brought about by the Eidol. Therefore the boarding party only needed to concern themselves with the security forces opposing them for the time being. Despite this the timetable for the boarding didn’t slow down nor did its participants lose urgency. For their goal was to get as many party members onboard the Crusader as possible before the convoy was readmitted into the stone forest. There was also their incomplete understanding of the Eidol’s territorial borders to consider.
A somewhat hopeless venture to rectify as there was very little literature concerning the extent of the entity’s dominion. Meaning there was no guarantee it would stick with them as far as the towers to begin with. In such an event it did lose interest in the convoy and return to its castle the interference would cease and the convoy’s comms would be restored. Providing the CC freedom to move his pieces about the board again. And in lieu of the darkness the deck officers would have a much easier time connecting from afar or marking targets of interest.
And so it was with all of this in mind that Dominique continued her push into the belly of the command Crusader. Growing ever closer to their main objective, the cargo bay. But this objective of Cloud Nine’s was no secret to the convoy’s leadership as it kept informed of the situation from upstairs. As such they wasted little time descending to the lower level to aid in safeguarding the cargo. Among the defenders sent to reinforce the corridors, Convoy Commander Lautnor himself. A man whose previous profession made him quite formidable in situations like these. A confidence he was keen to express.
“Depart Volt, think hard about where your destination truly lies.”
The woman’s eyes flicked from the officer she’d very nearly concussed to the CC stood at the junction of the corridor.
“Would you believe it’s to your back. Let me pass and I might be able to oblige.”
“That’s Logan Hite’s destination miss, don’t mistake it with yours.”
The two crew members slowly closed in on the raider from both sides, keeping a close eye out for concealed firearms or projectiles.
“Men who give unsolicited advice really are the worst.”
The raider ran a gloved hand through her dark brown tufts seconds before a devious smile played across her lips. Shortly thereafter a battle cry reverberated throughout the lower level as members from the main boarding party began to spill into the corridor, swallowing the two security officers in the throes of combat.
Left with little choice Lautnor moved to confront the intruders, but not before signaling the officer who’d accompanied him to lower the cage shutter behind him. A self-less order as much as a necessary one. As for what followed...it almost reminded the man of old times.
*
“You’ve put me into a tight spot Dandridge. What with the inspector general’s upcoming visit and that self-proclaimed Malison’s transfer finalizing. For such an abrupt change in my staff to occur in the middle of it all, it’ll invite questions from both guards and inmates. One way or another it’s bound to create some trace forms of instability throughout the prison.”
The warden of the northern region's largest prison, Forst Cavea, had called in one of her lieutenants to go over the details of his resignation. Something she was none too pleased about.
“I am sorry for the timing, but the offer I’ve been presented isn’t indefinite. The longer I take to accept it the more likely they are to offer it to someone else.”
The woman crossed one leg over the other and adjusted her peaked cap.
“The Federation is it...mind if I ask what brought about this desire for a career change?”
Lautnor stared at the carpeted floor of the warden’s office as he organized his thoughts, somewhat unclear on the reasons himself. Sharp gaze of the then lieutenant who’d scouted him notwithstanding, he eventually arrived at his answer.
“Your familiar with Tom Culp?”
“Who could forget about old ‘Tomahawk’ Culp.”
The warden rolled her eyes before leaning forward on her desk.
“That senile old bastard had taken to pissing on his cell door whenever he felt the guards were ignoring him. You could imagine the cleaning crews joy when he keeled over a few months ago.”
“Glad we’re almost on the same page. But prior to his passing I happened to bear witness to what ended up being his final cognizant thoughts.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
By pure chance Lautnor had happened across the older man as he sat alone in one of block C’s common areas. Rather than greet the oft irritable man he’d intended to carry on to the monitoring room to check on someone in solitary, only to be waved over gingerly instead. But what surprised him more was that Tom had called him by his rank and name.
“Lieutenant Dandridge, a moment if you will.”
Still stunned at the unexpected display of amiability, he’d sat down across from the inmate and removed his cap out of courtesy. As he did so the man shakily retrieved something from inside his prison uniform, but rather than present it he chose to keep it balled tightly in the hand he set on the table. The words that followed were soft.
“...I shouldn’t be here.”
“I don’t know about that Tom. You got that moniker for a reason after all.”
The old man waved him off with his other hand.
“That shouldn’t have happened either.”
Lautnor would have expected himself to become angry at the man’s apparent dismissal of his past crimes, and yet something about his counterpart’s disposition spoke of a deeper meaning behind those words.
“To have botched that one crucial decision all those years ago...and for it to culminate in all this.”
The hardened inmate looked around their immediate surroundings sadly before squeezing the unknown article in his fist even tighter. Eager to distract the man from his hapless circumstances Lautnor spoke up.
“What happened Tom?”
The balled fist grew limp and fell against the surface of the table with a light thud.
“I disembarked from my last Crusader...”
A slight pause, proof that recounting the supposed mistake was painful.
“—but I’d gone and foolishly done so at the wrong destination.”
“The wrong destination?”
“Aye. The sham in front of you, the one who quit field service. And the real Tom Culp, who stayed behind searching for something more. My greatest regret will forever be our parting.”
Lautnor grew pensive at those words. Because he could’ve sworn he’d grasped them once before in his youth. But if that was truly the case then why had he decided to let them go. Perhaps this was the question the hollow man across from him had wrestled with all his life. Unable to find an answer, he’d finally shared his predicament with another.
Even then, it didn’t have to be one of the prison’s lieutenants. Anyone would do. But not just anyone would be able to take this advice and run with it. Was it possible that the supposedly senile Tomahawk Culp had seen something inside him searching for that same thing? Lautnor would never get a chance to ask. For the old inmate had died in his sleep three days later with no signs of foul play. Leaving behind naught, save for the tattered remains of the emblem that had once emblazoned his service belt. The final proof of the life he’d taken pride in. And a farewell token passed from one shaky grip to another.
In the aftermath of that meeting Lautnor had taken to asking other inmates with pasts in the LCF about their respective experiences in field service. With some looking back at it fondly, and others complaining about the busy work schedule resulting from staff shortages. But not a single person surveyed regretted that snapshot of their life. A few even shared Culp’s regret over leaving, most doing so upon completion of the service requirement.
Inmates, who before would have been deemed unapproachable for the likes of prison staff, opening up enthusiastically once the topic was introduced. And so it reached a point where Lautnor could no longer smother the emotions taking hold of his spirit.
As if in response to this dam breaking, Lautnor came across one of several programs designed to take workers from fields sharing in similar skillsets and fast track them into specialized roles in the LCF. For him THIS became the crucial decision he couldn’t afford to botch. So he didn’t. He applied for the program, was quickly accepted and tempered his resignation. Bringing things to this current point in time.
“Good grief, and here I was hoping to find someone to pin the blame on. Bastards dead already.”
The warden stood to her imposing height and walked around the desk, grabbing the release form that finalized the excusal from his post. She pressed a copy of the parchment into his chest and peered at him from under her cap.
“I’d better not see you here again. And I don’t mean as an inmate either. Forst Cavea doesn’t reserve staff openings for good-for-nothing pissants that can’t stick to their guns.”
Lautnor smiled, accepting the form and saluting his warden. She returned his gesture in kind and returned to her seat as the new member of the LCF reached the door.
“Ah, make sure you pass by your locker one last time before leaving. Seems everyone pulled together funds for a parting gift.”
He couldn’t help but turn in surprise.
“You too Warden?”
The woman crossed her arms somewhat sheepishly.
“I signed the card...”
“You know I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.”
*
“Lux rotate with me! We need to thin the herd before it descends on command!”
Lux processed Youn’s proposal from the front deck, where she’d inconspicuously downed the gunner just moments before. And to her surprise several of the party members making up the approach they’d led had scrambled to cover and retrieve them. Immediately making her wonder if the person she’d introduced to the ground was either Duck Reed or the party leader Logan Hite. She had half a mind to seek out their captive downstairs so she could ask.
Imagine her surprise when upon passing by the front window of the bridge to follow up, that she should see “Legs” mingling among the rest of the bridge. The unexpected sight enough for Lux to pull up temporarily to confirm nothing malicious was going under the deck officer’s noses. Fortunately the behavior of both Wash and Jericka, in concert with the woman’s still bound state, assuaged her concerns and she resumed repositioning. But even such a brief delay had proved costly as her visual of the approach’s backend had grown ever smaller as it neared C471. Making Youn’s suggestion a sensible one.
“Oi, snap out of it! They might be called Cloud Nine but you won’t find them up there!”
Lux soon realized that at some point during her internal monologue her gaze had drifted up towards where the horizon would be, were it not obscured by the terrain’s skyline that it. And yet the overwhelming sense of anticipation that normally spawned as a direct result of these conditions was nowhere to be found. Strange.
“I heard you, calm your ass down!”
Youn hoisted himself over the railing and dropped down onto the platform. Locking his fingers together and crouching so he could give the blond a boost up.
“Only after you get your ass up!”
Despite trading verbal jabs throughout the process, the two officers still managed to sync their movements superbly. Culminating in a flawless exchange of deck positions. A feat akin to the stunts Voltigeurs regularly achieved during boardings. Though the two did have the handicap of not being actively shot at.
Touching down on the back deck, Lux raced to the rear of the Crusader with her head on a swivel. A necessary precaution as they remained the most likely candidate for relieving the set upon C471. Reason enough for the Hussards to keep them in check from afar.
But just as she had reached her desired set up position, a new and unexpected hinderance presented itself. The perpetrator of this hinderance, Crusader C274. Having dropped it speed so it could slide between its allies and assume a spot in the rear. A risky move if what she’d overheard about the state of comms was true. That and eking through the formation had to be stressful on the pilot at such a juncture. More so in this darkness.
It was as Lux witnessed this maneuver from down sights that she happened to spot an unfamiliar, burly graying presence onboard. She could also hear them barking orders over the roar of the drums. Orders she’d consider extreme even by her own standards.
“Open fire on C471’s main body! And make sure to be mindful of friendlies! Batter anything that doesn’t affect the cargo or the Crusader’s operating ability.”
Was this what Jericka had cautioned her of earlier? Because if mutiny was on the table Lux would be hard pressed to find a better chance to eliminate the ringleader. As if reading her mind the officer in question abruptly turned to meet her sights with an unreadable expression.
Only a handful of times had Lux felt so compelled to fight someone on an instinctual level. Not out of duty or self-preservation, but because they occupied a footing much similar to her own. The fact they were on the same side was inconsequential. Lids narrowed and her head edged downward as the two held one another’s gaze for what felt like an eternity.
“Ah...this guy’s like me.”