The ceramic coffee mug, a going-away present from the clerk’s previous workplace, was regrettably unable to survive its trip onto the bureau’s office floor. Shattering into several large pieces as its lukewarm contents seeped into the cuff of its owner’s pant leg. But the sorry state of his pair of corduroys was trivial compared to the hassle of being plucked from one’s chair and slammed into the wall behind a now overturned desk. And all without an appointment to boot.
But even a midday intrusion culminating in the loss of a once pristine office space didn’t aggravate the man nearly as much as the misguided attempt at physical intimidation being put on display. Testing the limits of what the mug itself had aptly dubbed “Calculated Composure.”
“Where. Is. It.”
The hands gripping the collar of the clerk’s button down shook with scarcely concealed nerves, the owner of said hands looking as if they hadn’t slept in days. Still the salary man tried to steer the interaction towards something resembling civility and calmly readjusted his glasses from where they’d slid down the bridge of his nose.
“For your sake I should hope whatever it is you’re looking for didn’t find its way into that mug.”
His eyes flicked down towards the mess on the floor before a second meeting between his back and the wall triggered a grimace.
“Enough of the games! I did as you asked, I turned my own mother into a fucking guinea pig! So where is the drug you promised us!?”
The clerk swallowed and allowed a degree of remorse to flash across his face, well aware of the reason for this visit. His rare show of emotion also serving as an apology of sorts, one that carried a promise of further answers assuming the threat of harm to his person was lifted. Or in this case set down as the man’s wing tips were barely touching the floor at this point. Luckily even in his incensed state the youth exhibited enough maturity to latch onto these subtle cues and dropped the man, albeit roughly. Wash didn’t back down however, wanting to make it clear that his opposition was on thin ice going forward.
Even still the desire to adhere to proper business etiquette saw the bureaucrat prioritize making himself presentable again before carrying on, sans the new addition to his pant leg. This despite being fully aware it may be for naught given the deflating news he’d be sharing in short order. News that necessitated retrieving a document from one of the drawers of the overturned desk. He then made it a point to show his visitor both the official stamp and date printed on the header of the document to erase any misconceptions he’d been withholding information from his patron. Having intended to share its contents only after the waiting period had elapsed.
“In the interest of quelling your current anxiety driven discontent, I think it best we jump ahead to the status of the shipment. After which I can go into more detail assuming you’re still feeling up for it.”
Wash only glared at the man impatiently, to the extent he looked about ready to snatch the paper and digest its contents firsthand.
“According to this correspondence I received the day before last, the convoy arranged for by the council has been grounded indefinitely at Station Castrum due to ‘insufficient staffing.’ Make no mistake the drug is there; the problem lies in the lack of personnel available to deliver it here. Now when a shipment is suspended, regardless of the reason, it enters a waiting period that can span days or even weeks depending on the nature of the delay. For matters related to understaffing the waiting period is short, several days at most. Normally this would be preferable for the consignee as it places a hard limit on how long they’ll have to wait for their overdue shipment to arrive. And while this regulation may sound foolproof on paper, it operates under the assumption that the source of the delay can be rectified in line with the assigned waiting period. But this isn’t always the case. You see the council made one glaring mistake when they set this all up, and that was designating the convoy as a Galen Run. Familiar?”
Regrettably Wash wasn’t well versed in such things. How could he be when their humble town was bereft of anything so lofty as a Crusader Station. They’d only recently come into the government office he was standing in for crying out loud. The result of some serious elbow grease on the part of a young buck who fancied himself a wolf following his appointment into the office of Legater. And whose end goal involved hunting new constituents to keep it that way. Sensing the young man was out of his element the clerk worked a brief explanation of Galen Runs into his prolonged explanation.
“I won’t bother getting into the origins and historical significance of Galen Runs at this time, but all you really need to know is that this designation is almost exclusively reserved for time-sensitive freight. Which in this day and age presupposes goods of either the medicinal or pharmaceutical variety. Making it the default option for transporting our drug.”
“Explain the mistake.”
The clerk retrieved his chair from where it had been catapulted by the wayward desk and settled into it with a sigh. He then briefly checked the time on his pendant watch before continuing.
“The problem is that Galen Runs possess the highest ‘Visits Above Expected’ or VAE relative to every other convoy designation. Not hard to understand why given the extreme value of the goods being transported. Factor in the urgency in which they need to be delivered and your left with an inadequate amount of time to round up a qualified crew roster. On paper it makes Galen Runs easy pickings for some of the more desperate raiding groups. The LCF is aware of these shortcomings of course, and they’ve done their due diligence I’ll give them that. But ask anyone and they’ll affirm that softening the stance on crew requirements and offering greater financial incentives wasn’t the way to go about increasing participation.”
“It didn’t increase at all?”
“It did, initially at least. But in essence all the higher ups did in their infinite wisdom was oversaturate the pool of underqualified field personnel. As one would expect this led to a jump in casualty rates, tanking the reputation of Galen Runs to record lows in the process. Things have settled down in the few years since, but you’ll still find that a high percentage of personnel prefer to avoid time-sensitive endeavors in the interest of self-preservation. Hence the reason for our staffing debacle over at Castrum.”
“There must be something we can do! If you’d just explain the situation to them, then I’m sure they’d—!”
“They’d what? Realize the error of their ways and rush to your mother’s aid? If things were that easy I wouldn’t have had to go through the entire song and dance of arranging a medical trial.”
Wash could feel his legs threatening to give out as the harsh reality of his mother’s fortune finally began to sink in.
“The degree of monetary incentives necessary to draw interest for the run would have only been possible through a sponsor of at least a council’s caliber, understand? Hey, pay attention to me kid.”
Wash’s bleary gaze found the clerk’s after a few more beats of staring blankly at the ground.
“This was our only real option, and I’d recommend you refrain from resigning your mother’s fate until the waiting period officially comes to an end. At which time I will see to informing you personally.”
Something about the delayed reaction of his client didn’t sit well with the civil servant, perhaps owing to the touch of guilt he felt for not covering any of this at the time of his drug trial recommendation. Prompting him to provide some out of character encouragement.
“Fresh convoys flood in and out of Crusader stations every day, carrying with them new and diverse groups of personnel. Castrum in no exception. I’d find it hard to believe that a willing handful of stout individuals won’t pass through its walls at some point in the coming days. A proud folk those field service men and women. Walk down any arcade at the end of the workday and you’ll see for yourself.”
*
“No time to get him back on C362, we’ll tend to his injury on the Command Crusader!”
The Convoy Commander carefully transferred the pale officer from his shoulder to his subordinate who’d already vaulted over the platform railing. Meanwhile Lux turned sharply back towards her own Crusader, making a twirling motion in the air with her pointer finger as she sprinted over. A signal for the bridge to start the engine up. And not a second to soon as both the might of the castle garrison and the slow advancing Eidol were practically on top of them.
“This is fucked...”
Lux hoisted herself onto the platform in short order, pausing briefly at the doorway so she could smack the space beside the speaking tube three times. A secondary signal to the bridge that everyone was onboard. It wasn’t much longer after that the Crusader lurched forward at what felt like max torque. The coinciding jerk doing little to phase the blonde officer as she skillfully navigated the corridors, though the same couldn’t be said for the less seasoned station officer she had to hurdle over on her way to the ladderway.
“Steer clear of the platforms for a bit slim! Didn’t drag your flat and indecisive ass onboard just to let you take a tumble on the home stretch!”
Brewer scrambled to recover his glasses from the floor so he could respond properly to the person he’d hardly gotten a chance to interact with since boarding.
“I’m glad you did!”
Lux smiled to herself at the admission but otherwise continued ascending the ladder. The top of which she was greeted by the waiting hand of their other unexpected presence onboard the Crusader.
“Welcome back.”
The security officer allowed herself to be pulled up, then scanned the bridge and back deck for Youn who she had to believe would be shadowing their turncoat out of precaution. She spotted said officer across the way in what appeared to be a partially blown out turret bay.
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“Mhm. Nice of you to follow my instructions by the by. If you’d fucked off with one of our headsets we would have been in deep shit.”
The former raider transitioned from an eye roll to a not so subtle once over of the blonde. A frown pulling at the edges of her mouth when she failed to find what she was looking for.
“What became of our reserved third? Don’t tell me you left him to bleed out?”
Lux paid very little heed to the taller woman’s faux consternation, preferring to get the attention of and then wave over Youn. Plenty aware of their tentative ally’s actual point of concern as it related to Faust. Or more specifically the things he’d been carrying.
“He’s being tended to on the other Crusader, which means a spot on this one just opening up. Happy to have you onboard...again.”
Emica tried to get another word in so that she might procure more information on her choker, but was interrupted by her chaperone’s nasal tone as he rushed over.
“About time you got back. Fun field trip?”
“Meh, not really the type to visit or tour landmarks. I mean castles look cool but inside there just an endless maze of dark ass rooms and hallways.”
She gestured a thumb behind her at the one who’d guided them through said ‘dark ass’ hallways.
“She knows what I’m talking about.”
“I’ll take your word for it,...you ditched your uniform jacket?
Youn gestured at her person and Lux looked down as if she’d just noticed.
“Must’ve misplaced it. Had to take it off to squeeze down a tight space. Put it back on briefly but another situation called for taking it off again. They’ll reissue me a new one I’m sure, granted I’ll need to bring it to someone for adjusting again.”
It’s going to be a real pain if Cade comes at me about the jacket too. Guess I have until whenever that is to whip up a more fleshed out excuse.
“Everyone inside! Our window to hit the exit gate won’t stay open long so we can’t afford to dawdle!”
Jericka’s shouted at the trio from the bridge’s doorway, likely parroting whatever Sumiye was saying over comms. As for the reason to find cover...
“We’ll be passing under the curtain wall shortly, which means one of you will need to watch the back deck for potential projectiles or overachieving Volts from the cover of the entryway. Another will head back downstairs and wait by one of the platforms in case a similar measure befalls the front deck. Unless directed to do so you will NOT scale the stairs to the front deck, everyone on the same page?”
“Oof, sorry. Think I might’ve read ahead since your explanation took so damn long.”
Blue and amber orbs clashed for the umpteenth time that day as Youn stepped in between the two. But rather than humor the security officer who’d gotten more irritable as the day dragged on, the CO tucked away her long list of retorts for later and carried on.
“Do we have a volunteer to standby downstairs?”
“I’ll go. This guy’s supposed to be keeping an eye on smuggles here anyway.”
Assuming there’d be no pushback Lux went to step onto the top rung of the ladder, only for a hand to latch onto her upper bicep. A gesture that prevented her from lowering herself down the rest of the way. Something she wasn’t shy about showing her displeasure about in the form of a wide-eyed stare at the perpetrator. Like some unwritten rule or indiscernible line relating to the sharpshooter had been crossed. For what’s it’s worth Youn seemed just as surprised by his actions and removed his hand almost immediately.
“Having someone with your skillset on the back deck gives us more options than if you were to handle the front. Plus, if she were going to try something she’d have already done it. Better I go.”
A fresh wave of irritation washed over Lux as her eyes flitted between everyone present, before quickly realizing that her silence was holding everyone up. She also recognized that the bulk of the enemy forces would soon be at their backs, making it more sensible for her to position herself facing the rear of the convoy. It was for these reasons she adopted a countenance of indifference and took a palpable step back from the ladderway. Choosing to remain silent as she didn’t trust whatever utterances were sure to escape from her mouth if given the opportunity.
Youn corroborated her gesture with a nod and made short work of ladder, leaving the girls in the entryway. Jericka, not registering the discomfort of the interaction or simply not caring, retreated back into the bridge to resume her duties while the former Cloud Nine member watched her benefactress cool her head.
“About time you brats started acting your age. To think all it took was the impending disaster that’s set to befall this castle and everyone in it.”
In a display that inadvertently gave Emica’s assertion extra credence, Lux scoffed and whipped her head back around towards the deck.
“Then it’s good thing we won’t be in this castle much longer.”
Just as the woman was content to ensconce herself in the acquired taste of radio chatter prevalent in her current environment, the security officer let loose a chain of guffaws towards the back deck. Leaving Emica with a case of whiplash at the chain of emotions she’d seen displayed over the course of the last few minutes.
“Can you think of another job where you’d get to say something so stupid?!”
Coming to terms with the fact that the blonde, and likely others among the crew, were beginning to manifest their fatigue through fits of emotional outbursts, Emica weighed how best to go about reining them in. If nothing else for the sake of making a clean escape. As the woman was anything but eager to join the ranks of the “missing” Cloud Nine members should she be reclaimed by the party. Then again, if the rumbling she could hear and vaguely feel were what she thought they were and not just a curious manifestation of her own building fatigue, they had more pressing issues to attend than her double cross.
“Wash, did you and that recluse in the engine room remember to check the treads and tire pressure?!”
“Best part of my day is assuring you fine folks that we definitely check those things each time!”
“You better believe my ghost writer will be hearing about this! I’ll make sure this makes it into the final edit!”
“What’s some worn treads and a few missing psi? Not like we’re gonna blow up?”
“...of course not, that’d be absurd. In fact, the best part of MY day is assuring freight pushers like you that we definitely won’t be blown up by an array of high yield explosives planted beneath us!”
“I should hope so, that sounds scary.”
Emica rested a hand on her hip while the other massaged her temples, sincerely hoping this exchange wouldn’t be the last she ever bore witness to. Though it was soon supplemented by an urgent convoy wide bulletin.
“Points!”
*
One good thing about tunnels made of a relatively durable substance like limestone, they could funnel explosions to a degree. Which is why rather than consume the convoy above outright, the numerous blasts instead began to chip away at the various natural supports maintaining the structural integrity of the century old drainage system. Resulting in the emergence of several sinkholes formidable enough to swallow a Crusader whole. With one in particular posing a tangible threat to the convoy’s pursuit of the exit.
By virtue of being in the point position, the Commander Crusader was first to react. Though the decision of which line they should divert to and follow became less certain as one of the limestone columns positioned near the exit gate began to collapse as part of the disastrous event. Meaning whatever path that C471 took to avoid the threats from both above and below may not be viable for the Crusader trailing behind it. Nor could they offer any insight on potential hot routes for C362 to exploit. Not without somehow predicting how the collapsing columns would affect the landscape once they toppled over entirely.
Recognizing evasive maneuvers were imminent Wash made the call for crew to connect their tethers. Meanwhile Jericka took up a position beside the pilot, bracing one of her hands against his shoulder to both keep herself steady and to minimize the delay in communicating pertinent transmissions to her bridge colleague. In a more casual setting the man would have made a gripe relating to the mastication of his left trap fibers, but with so much of his focus being pulled towards the events transpiring behind the front window, Wash found it difficult to access his usual level of charm.
Outside the bridge things were equally as hectic as the officers who’d been moving about the Crusader frantically sought a tether point or any means of something akin to stability. All as the karst landscape in which they’d familiarized themselves began to collapse in around them, taking with it a chunk of the crew’s collective acuity as self-preservation instincts started to kick in. The threats posed by the incoming Eidol and amassing castle garrison suddenly seeming very trivial in comparison. None of whom could agree more than a certain security officer who’d made the snap decision to employ the tether point located on the closest platform in favor of retreating back into the Crusader’s interior.
What the hell is going on?! Surely they realize that if we take a plunge the cargo will go with us...! A discussion for later, for now I’ll attach my tether and—huh?
In the context of a report, Youn probably would have described what was happening to him as an out-of-body-experience. Something he’d grown accustomed to scoffing at whenever he heard similar anecdotes from drunk colleagues at the small musty bars he’d developed a fondness for. And yet there was no better way to describe how disconnected he felt from the arm clutching the worn carabiner. Watching it snap closed well short of its mark as his momentum carried him further and further from the wall.
How he wished his arm could be just a bit longer, or his carabiner a tad larger. Perhaps he should have instead been cursing his own laxity in conduct. Having turned his back to the railing as he attempted to attach the tether rather than doing so from a side angle like they’d been taught. All but eliminating any chance of securing the railing on the way over. A personal frustration he’d be unable to voice along with any last-ditch pleas for assistance as his subsequent collision with the railing was enough to send his diaphragm into spasm. Leaving Youn to wheeze helplessly as his descent head first into the newly opened cavity marked what he assumed would be the beginning of his end. This place, the bailey of some abandoned relic, would be the destination he’d be disembarking a Crusader from for the last time.
But rather than spend his final moments lamenting the semantics of his end, the young security officer found his thoughts drifting towards other things. Like how he’d be able to apologize to his father in person, or how surprisingly pleasant his descent into the bowels of the earth was as the collapsing exterior afforded light to filter down and illuminate the walls that had only ever known darkness. The slightest of head turns revealing the fossilized remains of some lost leviathan comparable to Lamella herself, embedded in one of the wall surfaces. It’s open maw giving the impression it would escape its stone confines and mark his end before the ground did.
Were these the same thoughts going through the head of Jacoby James Morg as he plummeted to his death? Or were his thoughts reserved for the object of his affection, even up until his very last breath. Unaware of the spectator bearing witness to the end of his decade long folly. Content that his own folly was short lived in comparison, Youn allowed his final thought to be a selfish one.
Would asking them to name this one after me be too much trouble? Then again, we Sigurd’s never were too good at sharing our honest feelings and desires. Not even with ourselves.
*
“We’re clear! Youn, hop onto the front deck! Better to reset the rotation until I can get on comms with the other security reps and discuss gap and run fits!”
Lux moved over to the back deck railing to get a better view of the portside platform. The same side of the Crusader her colleague favored whenever he moved from one deck to the other. Except in this case the umber haired officer was nowhere to be seen. Not on the platform, nor the stairway adjacent to it. Just as she was about to double back to the bridge to confirm if he was already on the front deck, something below caught her eye. Specifically a subtle bowing of the railing opposite the tether point. An observation reserved for the keen eyes of a sharpshooter.
“...”
The blonde bit the inside of her cheek as she contemplated the implications of the discovery, before turning back in the direction of the castle that grew smaller by the second. Distant cries of panic reaching the convoy as the structure in question began to collapse. And just like that, what had started as an unprecedented five member security crew had been whittled down to two. Go figure.
Youn Sigurd, Age 20, Security Division
“Care to explain why we’re only hearing about this now?”