“When’s the last time you slept?”

A sigh escaped the individual being addressed, a man of nearly forty whose poor disposition could be attributed to his deteriorating physical and mental states going on several months now. The results of the decline becoming more apparent over recent weeks. Something the man’s dwindling number of colleagues took notice of but failed to take any concrete steps towards correcting. Save for the one posing the inquiry from the opposite side of the secluded stone chamber. Though even he, a man of similar age with a shock of once vibrant ginger hair and hard gray eyes, knew he had interjected far too late to reverse the course of the sickness befalling his friend.

“How did you get in...?”

His visitor uncrossed his arms and walked over to the space’s lone light source, a slit about the width of a forearm. The lantern that had been brought in to provide light having long since burnt out and toppled over through unclear means.

“You designed this place, you tell me.”

“Designs aren’t absolute. They’re only a creator’s vision in its most base form, rife with imperfections born of the contradictions between wants and needs. The solutions to which I leave in the disciplined hands of yourself and others.”

This earned a scoff from the redhead.

“Others, what others? Just about everyone else got tired of this obsession of yours and left. I imagine I’ll be joining them soon enough.”

“Rather than threatening why not show some conviction and go. Your contributions will be missed of course, but I fully intend to finish this project with or without further assistance.”

The man finally albeit briefly looked up from the parchment on which his various scrawling’s had accumulated before folding it neatly and tucking it into the pocket of his worn overalls. A yawn escaping him as he collected the spent lantern and methodically rose to his feet.

“Fuck's sake James, how is any of this still worth it?”

[Jacoby James Morg, 39, Architect]

Morg shuffled his way towards the entryway his colleague stood in, setting a gnarled mitt on the shorter man’s shoulder as he passed by.

“Remind me Rodge, what was the name of that lass of yours? From back in school.”

[Rodge Rigan, 38, Foreman/Carpenter]

The head foreman of the now year-long project stiffened at the mention of their school days.

“Can’t say I appreciate you drudging up the past so needlessly.”

“Margaret? No, that wasn’t it. Maren...? Maren! Sweet girl, always set aside a lunch from her class for us.”

Rodge removed the hand from his shoulder and glared at the architect impatiently.

“You must really want me gone to bring this up after so many years.”

“Your upset? Good! A natural reaction as far as the love of one’s life is concerned.”

Morg chuckled as he continued on his way into the hall, stopping only to run a thumb across a section of stonework at around shoulder level. The section in question having been marked with white chalk for the purpose of design instruction.

“You must be further gone than I thought to draw a comparison between Maren and your precious Lamella. Particularly in regard to this delusion of yours that her admiration for the work of JJ Morg extends to its begetter.”

“Many including myself would attest that a creator puts a great deal of themselves into any given work, to the extent it would be pertinent to argue that a work is little more than a reflection of the artist themselves. Given new form that is.”

For Rodge this wasn’t enough to dissuade his attempt at making his old friend see reason, so he caught back up with the architect before he had a chance to tuck himself away in another corner of the niche castle. A castle nearing its completion.

“Then would you care to explain her betrothment to another, an individual more fitting of her age and station starting late this past year.”

How this headline had even reached them all the way out there had been a mystery at the time, but after being confirmed during the rare instance of a supply run, the news had spread about what remained of the camp like a wildfire. Providing a perfect excuse for those looking to desert the project.

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of the superficial nature of matches made between the aristocracy. I doubt the ceremony will even be carried out for many months. By which time construction of our future home will be well underway in her city of Prauth. A fact that will no doubt sway her commitment to the match thrust upon her.”

It was on the tip of Rodge’s tongue to confront his colleague over what sounded very much like a practiced response one would recite in the mirror as part of countless but futile attempts to influence reality. But unexpectedly, both his voice and legs failed him in that moment. Leaving him to watch helplessly as a frail looking Morg ventured further into the recesses of the castle. In search of another nook to seclude himself perhaps, or any place that would permit his disillusions to continue their run unopposed.

*

Stutter step, feint right, connect with rifle butt!

Rohner allowed the unconscious Cloud Nine member to fall to the wayside as he continued his way down the stairs leading up to the front deck. His current goal being to reach the corridor junction or more specifically the ladderway just beyond it. The raider he’d deposited over the railing moments before having been part of the unanticipated aerial incursion taking place. Reaching the bottom of the aforementioned stairs the security rep instinctively reached for the barrel that had spawned from the direction of the corridor with the intention of ripping it away, only to stay his hand upon recognizing the face on the other end of it.

“Your being vigilant, that’s good. Just make sure the next time someone reaches for the barrel of your rifle you create distance and plug ‘em.”

Esma allowed herself to relax as the rifle was released and proceeded to scoot out of her superior’s way.

“Not to keep you, but a quick rundown of what’s going on upstairs would be much appreciated.”

Rohner could hear the not-so-veiled panic in the young woman’s voice and deduced one of her methods for acclimating to a stressful situation must be learning everything she could about it. Both to serve as a distraction and enable her to conjure contingencies for navigating the conflict. A mindset he felt a flicker of sympathy for upon recalling his own first armed campaign. At least he assumed it was the first time she held such sway over another’s welfare, if the sorry excuse for her grip on the rifle was anything to go by.

“Seems the castle garrison forgot that parades are a spectator sport and became a bit overzealous in their pursuit of an active role in the festivities. To the tune of an airborne assault from the wealth of walkways and pillars in this godforsaken clusterfuck of a castle.”

Putting a pin in his otherwise poignant tirade, the awny officer reached out to pluck one of the exposed magazines from Esma’s belt. A move she couldn’t be bothered to protest given her recent history of frozen trigger. He then proceeded to grab the body of her rifle and jostled it emphatically, sending similar waves into her own person.

“Listen up.”

Rohner released the rifle and gestured down the corridor housing both the ladderway and cargo bay door.

“You see anyone come down that ladder without a Federation uniform on you open fire. Same goes for anyone approaching from either of the platforms. Front decks empty, so no need to check for a uniform with those ones.”

Esma sucked her teeth as she stared down the closer of the two platforms, her reservations for holding down the junction clear as day.

“In the event your about to be overwhelmed use THAT speaking tube to ping the bridge, they’ll pass it along to us on the deck.”

The speaking tube Rohner had pointed at was to Esma’s left, just to the side of the currently sealed engine room door. A door that the engineer inside was under strict orders to keep shut in response to the unique conditions of the ongoing raid attempt. Meaning that even the brunette’s hypothetical pleas to seek refuge inside would go unanswered.

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“Buck up, we should already be halfway through the castle. And it’s not like we plan on letting anyone slip by.”

The security rep turned and took long purposeful strides over to the ladderway, offering some roundabout encouragement in the form of some parting words.

“Just think of yourself as the contingency plan.”

But unbeknownst to the officer scaling the ladder in haste, his choice of words had provoked an undesirable and borderline visceral response from the individual he’d meant to galvanize. The deadpan expression that had become a fixture on Esma’s face since the start of the attack, a real time indicator of her mind’s attempt to process the harsh reality she’d found herself in, fell away completely. The visage that followed surely enough to sow concern had Rohner offered even the most fleeting of glances before ascending the rungs.

As he would later state in a report detailing his final interaction with the interim security officer; “I regret to say the sounds of battle spilling forth from the ladderway hastened my need to travel topside, as such whatever words I delivered to her in that moment were of a similar composition and nature to those I’ve bestowed upon countless comrades over the years. All of which having routinely yielded favorable results in the realm of crew morale. I thank her for her service but see no further need for intervention on my or the convoy commander’s part.”

*

Per design of the ladderway, Rohner was already facing towards the action as he emerged topside, the landscape awaiting him unique as far as usual boardings went. With members of Cloud Nine littering the sky above the convoy as they sought to join their scattered comrades across the various decks. Their own back deck, that of C274, was relatively clean in comparison. The two raiders that had made it on board both engaged in separate melees on opposite ends of the deck.

He gathered the reason for their manageable numbers had to do with their position at the front of the impromptu stack formation, the only real option available to the convoy as it navigated the extensive inner ward. Those above probably using C274 as a reference point for when to begin their rapid descents.

Just as Rohner settled on assisting the closer of his two security officers a glare that momentarily swept across his vision urged him to glance upwards. But in the time it had taken him to raise his vision cone to investigate something heavy had crashed onto the deck roughly two meters in front of him, impacting hard enough to shake the entire back surface of the Crusader.

For a moment the man questioned the effectiveness of dropping heavy objects onto the convoy from above, likening it to the castle sieges of antiquity. Back when castle garrison’s used such methods to thwart soldiers swarming around the foot of curtain walls. But this exercise proved for naught as it became apparent the source of the glare was righting itself. And what he’d mistaken for a metallic projectile of sorts was actually an individual donning an impressive set of emblazoned armor. Armor that steadily unfurled itself as the wearer rose from the deck brandishing two identical and equally impressive lantern shields. Rohner responded by unfastening the strap of his rifle and taking the firearm in both hands.

But rather than attempt to discharge a shot at close range he instead flipped the weapon around, positioning both hands on a ribbed grip near the end of the barrel. A characteristic that would normally be missing on a standard issue. This was because his rifle had been customized for use as a bonafide melee weapon, with the stock of the firearm incorporating elements of a club. Namely it’s uneven weight distribution and armor-plated coils acting as lethal protrusions. That being said, these alterations weren’t obvious by design. Meaning a raider coming face to face with the modified weapon would show the same level of precaution as they would a normal rifle.

At the very most an astute individual might note the difference in casing around the coils, but even then leaping to the conclusion they were armor-plated would be far-fetched. It wouldn’t be until the rifle came in contact with their person or melee weapon that the true nature of the rifle would become known, by which time a crippling blow would already be in the process of being delivered. For Rohner’s part it just meant his rifle was much heavier to lug around and manipulate. But after so many years of utilizing the weapon such things now tended to go unnoticed.

Now whether his armored opponent was wise to such ploys or simply showered those who challenged his lantern shields head on with a base level of deference was unclear, but they met the swing of the officer’s mighty club rifle with vigor all the same. A pair of one handed blows whose momentum was directed downward by the raider’s adept lantern handling. The force behind said opening blow enough to produce a loud clang and send unwelcome rattling up the arms of the combatants.

The discomfort would have to be short lived however as the raider’s other lantern shield came sweeping across the face of Rohner who narrowly managed to flex his torso back in time to avoid the blade. The officer raising his club a second time to turn away a follow up slash from the other lantern shield. Quickly sensing slashes alone wouldn’t be enough to silence his opponent the raider abducted his shoulder, transforming what was a downward slash into a spear thrust from a position above the club. Rohner ducked out of the path of the blade and closed the distance between them, taking advantage of the raider’s slightly overextended arm. He proceeded to body blow his adversary’s left side with his shoulder, his impressive bulk enough to send even an armor-clad opponent staggering a short distance backwards.

An outcome Rohner sought to capitalize on with a backhand swing targeting the raider’s armored oblique area. Caught at an off angle they had no choice but to brace their right side and trust that the gauntlet’s shield would minimize the damage. But braced for or not a grimace still spread itself across their obscured features as they absorbed the impact of the club, the need to maintain eye discipline in that moment doing wonders as a distraction for the pain.

But rather than charge forward once more like the raider half-expected Rohner released the weapon from his right hand before recovering it with his left, seamlessly transitioning his previous blow into a diagonal swing that targeted the raider’s head and neck area. Only for the blow to be met by the opposing lantern shield. The weight and strength behind both weapons enough to send them caroming in opposite directions. The sparks that formed as a result of the violent crash of metal puttering out as they fell to the deck.

This served as an unspoken end to the pair’s first exchange and both men took a few steps back with the express purpose of strategizing. Rohner used the opportunity to swap the club back to his dominant hand, meanwhile the raider busied themselves making small circular motions with the arm on the receiving end of the battle’s lone damage inducing blow. Something that told the veteran officer his opponent may be experiencing some manner of pins and needles in the arm. An advantage he’d want to push sooner rather than later.

But it was as this development came to pass that one of Rohner’s deck officers, who’d only just managed to rid themselves of their prior opponent, sought to join the fray in an honest attempt to assist their security rep. The height of foolishness as they believed they could draw close enough to puncture the raider’s armor with a rifle round. A trick that ironically would have found more success if the target was Rohner himself, so transfixed on the battle against who he’d deemed a worthy adversary. And with the entirety of the convoy under active assault the notion that an available crewmember wouldn’t immediately move to safeguard the cargo or assist a less capable officer hadn’t occurred to him.

In the end it was a shift in the raider’s posture conducive to repositioning for an attack that alerted Rohner to his misguided colleague’s dire circumstances. But his call to withdraw came too late as the lantern shield’s blade flashed across the unsuspecting deck officer’s vision, and culminated in a skillfully delivered attack that didn’t even require a need to pull their visor off of Rohner who was considered the greater threat. Leaving the security rep to watch on as the blade split the young man diagonally starting from his left pectoralto a point just beyond his right clavicle. The saving grace being that the slash had narrowly missed the base of the deck officer’s throat.

Dropping to his knees on the back deck, the wounded deck officer shed his rifle and began to paw at the front of his uniform as it became slick with blood. Recognizing the futility of his subordinate’s efforts to staunch the bleeding, Rohner reconfigured his hand placement on the club and prepared to confront the raider for round two. A round he had every intention of winning quickly so as to prevent the costly loss of the aforementioned crewmember. The rest of Cloud Nine had different plans.

No sooner had Rohner made to let loose a series of mighty swings had another raider still attached to a rope came flying into him from his blind spot. And although he managed to tumble his way back to his feet, the impact was enough to send both parties careening dangerously close to the Crusader’s railing. Preparing to push off the lone safety measure available to him Rohner’s blood ran cold when he felt something pointed press into an area of his low back. He pushed off anyway, the strain on his nerves making it feel as if his vice grip on the modified rifle would snap it in two. Pair that with the rotation of his hips as he made an about-face and it all culminated in absolutely lethal swing of the club. Had it connected that is.

Instead Rohner found nothing but air and very nearly took himself out when his momentum almost carried him back over the railing. Confused he scanned for the raider who’d slammed into him, but didn’t have to look far. The culprit lay at his feet face down and immobile. The rope that had introduced them to the Crusader in the process of falling atop the seemingly motionless Cloud Nine member. It was then Rohner realized they were already dead, and had been when they’d collided into his backside. Someone on one of the other decks likely having taken them out as they’d descended from above. Their dead weight at the end of the rope contributing to the force that had moved him within a meter of his demise.

Cursing his tunnel vision Rohner shifted his attention back towards the armored opponent who wouldn’t have sat idly by as the improbable event unfolded. He sharpened his senses and took in oxygen to help soothe his screaming muscles, aware that a relaxed body would be able to react more succinctly to the threat a hand. And yet a quick scan of the back deck was unable to turn up the vibrant enemy. Only the prone form of the critically injured crewmember as they were being tended to by the other security officer on deck.

“Oi, not here! Take his ass inside!”

“But...!”

Rohner rushed over and grabbed the downed officer by his uniform collar, then proceeded to drag him in the direction of the bridge’s entry way.

“After we get him inside seal the bridge!”

“Right!”

The officer collected his rifle and first aid kit from the deck and followed after the larger man.

“Did you happen to see where that armored bastard went?!”

The two men charged through the entryway and past a surprised Kircher, clearing the center console and depositing the sputtering officer as gently as possible.

“Forget it, I’ll find him! You take care of this!”

Rohner checked to make sure his rifle was fully loaded and beelined toward the ladderway, ignoring the CO who attempted to pester him with questions as they moved to help administer medical aid. His thoughts focused solely on the whereabouts of the raider and his lantern shields.

He must’ve dropped down onto one of the platforms, but I don’t hear any shots! Dammit rook, didn’t you hear my instructions!

They couldn’t afford to lose a second officer at this crucial point in the run. Even if he had serious questions regarding their capabilities. Rohner could only hope things were going smoother elsewhere.

You better see your part of the plan through blondie! In the meantime I’ll see to keeping your little friend safe!