Malik
The all hands meeting came three hours before shift change. The Shadow was still three days out from their latest paycheck, and from the rumors that had been flying through the crew this one was going to be very juicy. Malik didn't usually put much stock in rumors, especially rumors that circulated in an idle warship, but this latest batch had the subtle ring of truth to them. He arrived at the ops room early and found it already packed full, trumping last week's assembly by a few curious heads. Malik took his place near the back of the crowd beside the only crew member taller than him.
"You missed another fight, Runt." Jhordan said, tossing her golden curls by way of greeting.
"Havoc again?" He asked the resident giantess. She was only two inches taller than he was but she never tired of reminding him that second place overall meant he was a first place loser.
"Pauz and Knight."
Malik had to suck his teeth at that. Both men were among the meaner killers among the crew; Knight taking his pseudonym after his lofty idealism and his penchant for swords; Pauz on the other hand was a gene-tweaked peasant farmer who'd made a name for himself in bar fights and livestock wrestling before he'd signed on with the Shadow. If those two had thrown hands, there weren't very many people who would get in the middle of that. Malik scanned the crowd to look for the victor, though he failed to find either man.
"Who won?" He asked.
"I did." Jhordan beamed, holding out her bloodied knuckles as proof. Malik had to roll his eyes at that.
At that moment, Bim and her hulking escort walked in. Heads turned and the room fell virtually silent. A hand rose from the gathered crowd, beckoning the devil woman to the front and the crowd shimmied to make a path for her. Her bodyguard, the absolutely titanic man named Treu, made his way to stand beside Malik and Jhordan at the back of the room.
"He's fucking huge!" Malik whispered under his breath.
"Shut up!" Jhordan hissed. "He's coming this way."
"Feeling emasculated, Amazon?" Malik teased.
"Shut. Up." She hissed.
Treu easily stood twenty centimeters taller than her, and he had the mass to back that height up. He could have been the unlikely child of a arctic bear and an equatorial ape, all sculpted muscle and burly arms nearly as thick as his legs were— which was still thicker around than most people's waist was. A sinister smile crept onto Malik's lips as Jhordan's normally indomitable, bubbly disposition darkened in the giant's shadow. Jhordan wasn't the only one cowed by the titanic man, the idle chatter and whispered conversations near our portion of the octagonal room all withered in Treu's presence. Leeroy banged on the ceiling to call the room to order and all eyes tuned on him at the center of the room.
"Negotiations are still fluid so expect some of the contract details to change later on." Leeroy began. "We've got enough sorted out that we can finally give a halfway reliable briefing. Chances are any rumors you've all heard are outdated, so forget them and focus on this."
A rudimentary map of the solar system appeared on the central table. The mercs leaned in for a closer look and Leeroy continued.
"This is the Trastorno system, and this, is the Shadow's current position about seventy hours away from our next client on Nexo Isla. We've got a lot of orbital and deep space traffic all around us, and I've been able to confirm that the Heart of Darkness and Blissful Shade both passed through the system twenty-one months ago and are expected back with one of the next inbound ships from the galactic northeast."
The news of the outfit's sister ships from the good old bad times was warmly welcomed. Long before Malik's time, the Stalking Shadow had been just one of many ships flying under the outfit's banner but the Bot Wars and the lean years that followed had changed things. Armies and fleets were been broken into smaller units, and the attached mercs were left chasing down smaller jobs just to keep the outfit alive. They'd slowly rebuilt themselves, like a blighted fungus you could never truly get rid of, but now the scattered remains of the Blackheart Auxilia were few and far between. The chance to have three ships and their crews all in the same place more than made up for the past four years trawling around the fringes, hunting pirates, escorting merchants and training local militias. The only thing that spoiled the announcement, was the fact that there were three outsiders in their midst, each no doubt wondering at the significance of the moment.
"There's four orbital stations for dedicated trade, two more for leisure, and twelve spin-barrels growing all the usual chow and medicinals. No space elevator, so everything still goes planetside through the spaceports or drop pods. Terraforming is confirmed to be mid-stage two-"
A chorus of groans left the assembly. Leeroy waved them off.
"I was hoping for local grass-fed beef too. So what if this planet is still in the half-tamed? That just means Rock can go on safari while the rest of us actually earn our paymails. They've got most things available on import, so quit your bitching and let me get through this."
The terran sniper playfully flipped Leeroy off.
"Alright, where was I? The job. That's basically the only thing that hasn't changed from the rumors. We've got a bid in for long term close protection and site security planetside. Client is an ultra-high networth Mister Johnson with his fingers in so many pies even he doesn't know how diverse his investments are, but the main one is 'import export,' or for anyone who can't read between the lines, black marketeering. This system moves everything— and I do mean everything. Guns, drugs, plants, metal, people… Everything, and our Johnson controls at least one percent of that everything coming through this gravity well."
An appreciative whistle came from the crowd. Another merc raised a question.
"So who are we killing for this prick?"
"Rival underworld elements and hired guns from the info we have so far." Leeroy answered. "Our client needs a covert protection detail that has the capacity to escalate into a fully equipped mechanized fighting force with experience in a densely built-up urban center. We'll be augmenting his own staff, who will be handling the day to day while we train their capabilities and act as on site experts unless our hand is forced. Additionally we've planned on a round of site security consultations before we agree to discreetly fortify and guard any locations of importance. The Johnson isn't military but he is rich, so we should be able to get away with a good degree of upselling on our initial payment and follow-up salary. Pay rate is still being hammered out, but I can say it's very generous so far; plus we're getting paid weekly by head instead of monthly as a unit."
Affirmative grumbling burbled from the crowd. The job sounded simple enough, more often than not the mere presence of armed security details was enough of a deterant to send any would-be robbers packing. Babysitting a worried wallet and guarding a few secured sites was easy money in Malik's eyes. But there was always the chance this wouldn't be a cake walk, that the Johnson had a reason to be concerned for his safety, so Malik didn't plan his pension before he lived to see it— unlike some of the overeager mercs around him clearly were.
"Now that you've all got a good idea of what we're getting into," Leeroy tapped at the table's terminal and the display's focus narrowed from the solar system to the planet and its orbiting satellites. "Nexo Isla, population eight-hundred million planetside, another twelve million permanently in orbit. FTL traffic and transfers are estimated to be anywhere from four to nineteen million, apparently the locals have a hard time with people slipping through the cracks. Frontier towns are less than five-hundred years old, some sites as new as yesterday. Terraforming effort is mid-stage two, urban centers are semi-industrialized with spotty coverage in the immediate surroundings. Four primary landmasses, three in proximity of the nominal western hemisphere running longitudinally, the other is in the southeastern sea. We have two terraforming archologies up and running in the southwest hemisphere, primary habitable ecosystems are in this area. Our client, is not.
"This continent is named Bolintiam, after its first settlers who also named the region's five founding colonies, three local oceans, eighty-nine mountains and twelve rivers some derivative thereof. Our client is here. Specifically in the east by northeastern-most city, El Cruce Babro, or just Crucibab as the locals know it. Port city, space and deep water, sheltered cove surrounded by coastal desert, semi-arid planes, deep-water exploration rigs, and mountains that used to have temperate rain forests. There's also an archipelago, close to three hundred islands that are actually worth a damn. Most are sustenance farming or growing cash crops for refinement or offworld export. The climate is fairly hot and wet-"
"How hot?" Ruby asked, voice filled with dread, from her place near the front.
Leeroy chuckled masochistically before pulling his attention from the briefing to the diminutive scout.
"The planetary average is thirty-five standard, peaking for seven hours a day at around forty-two degrees. The day cycle is slightly over forty-one hours long, twenty-nine sunny, twelve dark. Humidity averaging above seventy-percent most days."
If anyone wanted to drop a pin, the whole room would have heard it land.
"These people are insane." Ruby said, a morbid half-smile on her lips.
"Those are averages," Clancy said as he adjusted his spectacles. "The bulk of the planet is covered in water and we can see that the landlocked mountains are mostly snowcapped with massive shadow profiles. Its childish to assume the entire planet is always only one climate. Some areas will be less intolerable than others."
"And our client happens to be based far from planetary government oversight, which is coincidentally collocated with the very tolerable archologies on the other side of the planet." Leeroy added. "For any of you spacers who don't already know this, most planets worth a damn are more than just a single ecosystem. They vary from region to region, sometimes extremely. Point in case, these… Bolindas mountains, right here. Arid dessert to the southwest, glacial forests in the bowl, the mountains themselves, and then hilly shrub-land to the east. All within less than a thousand kilometers of each other."
"Planets are weird." Chad grumbled under his breath.
"Don't I know it." Jhordan agreed, similarly under her breath.
"This one also has a very, very wealthy merchant class, which is why we're here." Leeroy said, carrying on. "Aside from the invasive humans and introduced species, most of the planet's native wildlife are cold-blooded reptiles of all sizes or deep sea life. The equatorial land regions have some spotty mega-flora and mega-fauna, giant trees and dinosaurs respectively, neither of which have taken kindly to humanity and both are now endangered as a result. Introduced species include the usual vermin: Crows, rats, trash pandas, cats, various insects and fish— salmon mostly but there are also mollusks, clams, crustaceans and shellfish that all took well to their new home.
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
"Aside from some traveling or remote site work, we'll be based in Crucibab at the Johnson's primary residence and working in the city on an as needed basis. The main mode of transit for the locals is rail or foot; there are a few motorways but within the city proper, access is restricted to commercial and political vehicles. Our Johnson's main business efforts focus on orbital and waterway transit for cargo and personnel, though he did express interest in establishing some motorcades at a later date. Once we're established on site, I want to see about getting a local flyer for us but until then I want one of our shuttles on station for general duties. Shores, Aivery, Clancy, you're our pilots so figure out how you want to handle that and whether you want to use the Cat or the Hound, and have an answer for me before we make planetfall.
"Crucibab is a port city built like a hive. Census data suggests just shy of twelve million people living in a twenty-kilometer radius from the city center. Industrial sectors focus mainly on refinement of natural or imported materials, with a heavy export focus on organics like food, timber or textiles. Most sophisticated goods or electronics are manufactured in the more developed archologies or the orbiting colony ships and then sent to their less developed planetside counterparts, same as most terraforming operations.
"The geographic data is still being fetched, but we know that it's a coastal cliffside metropolis in a tectonically active region. Construction is primarily stone, steel and brick, better off areas might have ceramics or wood. The buildings will generally be low to the ground or partially buried in the cliffside. Our Johnson has assured me that we will have access to the comforts of 'civilized society,' like electricity, plumbing and some basic air conditioning, though many people in our area of operation might be lucky enough to have one of three. Again, same as most terraforming planets.
"What differs from the usual is the fact that Trastorno is sat square in the intersection of four stable FTL lanes. Two run the colonies on the fringes so they haul meat and not much else. The other two both come from the core, Empire and Technocracy respectively, and run back and forth from the Eldritch DMZ and its buffer worlds."
Leeroy didn't feel the need to elaborate for the outsiders in the room. Every red-blooded merc knew what happened when battle-groups passed through civilian markets on their way to 'inactive' combat zones and returned home afterwards. Military hardware went missing, manifests were doctored, battlefield souvenirs got pawned, unwanted children got abandoned, and in some rare cases entire units of soldiers vanished from their shipboard billets just days before they were supposed to ship out.
Empire troop movements meant guns, armor, vehicles and the bodies to use it. Hundreds of colonies and old-growth worlds contributing odds and ends to any given fleet, meaning there was never a guarantee on the quality, only the quantity— which had a certain quality all its own. Technocracy supply fleets were better than gold, most could still make miracle gear from before the Synthetic Revolution. Tech like that was always worth the years of combat pay even a single scrap of it cost and more often than not, having it was the difference between life and death for an otherwise outgunned merc. And that was to say nothing about whatever alien trinkets and toys that found their way into the pockets of the soldiers while they were deployed, or the legitimate trade between species that yielded all sorts of exotic goodies which inevitably found their way to unscrupulous markets just like Nexo Isla.
In short, after years of collecting their pay with nothing to spend it on, they'd finally returned to all the vainglory of capitalism; corrupt open markets where anything and everything could be found if you knew the right person and had enough cash.
"Now that everyone is sufficiently motivated, we need to discuss the division of labor. Long days mean long hours, at least three shifts a day, fourteen hours a shift. Moving forward we'll need to address schedule rotation so the day teams can catch a break. The locals take lots of naps, we'll need to do likewise. Between the heat and the long days, acclimatization is going to be harsh. If you have hot-weather gear, this is the time to break it out of storage.
"Until we have a better idea of our capabilities in the environment, I want fireteams of three as our basic fighting unit. Figure out teams and rest cycle rotations amongst yourselves."
The room was filled with turning heads, years as a cohesive fighting force meant more than one team was formed and solidified with little more than eye contact. Several of the outfit's powertechs had already started shuffling through to room to stand by their fireteams before Malik put a question to the room.
"This is a covert detail, right?" He asked. "Are we running warsuits from the get go or should we mix mechanized and light troops for these fireteams?"
"You're right. The client hasn't specified that he doesn't want warsuits following him, but they certainly aren't covert…" Leeroy paused to think for a moment. "For the time being having more flexible teams would be an asset. Let's go with two techs and a dedicated supporter until we need to break out the big guns; after that it'll be all hands on deck anyway and our heavy infantry can reform while our carbines move to the rear."
There was a degree of grumbling acceptance from the room as trios decided who to kick from their teams. Malik had to smile at that. It was almost like he was watching social cliques deporting their friends when they suddenly weren't cool enough anymore. The sight was a nostalgic one, hearkening back to his university days an odd decade back. There were a few likely pairs that didn't find the choice all that difficult: Idris chose her brother Evander, Ken gravitated towards his old fling Chop, Baz stood by his racial tendencies and paired with Shores before looking for another powertech. Malik might have joined that last group, but he wasn't a powertech—he didn't have the plush finances or cross disciplinary knowledge for it, plus he got claustrophobic which was an automatic dis-qualifier. With teams forming all around him, Malik looked to the Amazon bombshell to his left, only to find she'd already made a femme fatale team with Nye and Ruby.
In the blink of an eye, he was standing alone next to the inhuman mountain named Treu. As a last resort, Malik started forming the questions he didn't want to ask but before he could utter a sound Treu answered as if he'd read Malik's mind.
"Yes, I have a warsuit. No, I will not be forming a group with anyone else. Not on your life."
Malik had to take a step back at the titan's words, another question forming in his mind and failing to reach his lips before Treu answered.
"Yes, I did. Now leave me be and direct your attention elsewhere, Gnat."
Leeroy hammer the ceiling to call the room to order again, drawing all eyes to the center of the room. Malik used the distraction to sidle away from the very polite mind-reading giant of a man whom he harbored absolutely zero negative thoughts or opinions of once soever.
"We' figure out what to do with the stragglers once we're planetside." Leeroy said. "Chances are you'll be used piecemeal or in a platoon support capacity. Either way, we'll cross that airlock when we get to it and not before. Tentatively, I'll have overall mission command with Alice as my second. Ghost will be running numbers as long as that's feasible, after that I'd like someone else to step up and wear a second hat as our on-site quartermaster and logistics officer."
The room waited for Leeroy to continue, but the scarred veteran let the moment hang as he peered throughout the room. Prospective volun-tolds averted their eyes, suddenly finding literally anything better than the briefing or its facilitator. A few of the more cocksure mercs let their heads turn to Mister Fagus, who usually accepted the role from a mix of competence and duress.
"Come on guys, we can't keep pushing this off on Clancy. Whatever, that's a later problem. As stated early, shifts are fourteen hours, two day, one night. I'll get a headcount and fireteam composition and draw up a sentry rotation. Any volunteers for the day shift?"
Again, Leeroy faced a sullenly silent room. Some persuasive measures might have summoned a lone volunteer, but this time teams and trios were kept mute as much by their peers as their own reluctance to bite the bullet. Malik spotted Idris and Evander carrying a conversation with nothing but their eyes, evidently debating how their third—the Shadow's leading markswoman, Lacy—would react. The dessert world siblings reached a non-verbal agreement and kept their peace.
"I thought not, dice it is then." Leeroy said. "Ordinance orders and rules of engagement are as follows until I say otherwise or situation FUBAR. No first shot unless threatened, WITH weapons. Fists count as weapons, harsh words don't… Havoc. If the tactical situation devolves to the point where any you need to question the legality of an action that will save your lives, do it. We'll decide if you were right or wrong after the fact instead of mourning your honorable corpse. That being said, we're deploying to a densely-populated megacity. If the population turns on us, the Johnson will hang us out to dry and die. Keep collateral damage to a minimum, prioritize hollow-point ammunition and shoot to kill if engaged. We shouldn't be squaring off against rival paramilitary forces, but there are multiple local mercenary outfits operating in and through this system, so prepare to fight off a force comparable to ourselves in a pinch. I'll talk to the Johnson about how he wants us to field our warsuits, ideally he'll agree to keep a team tooled up for quick response but we'll have to play that by ear."
"As if there's another outfit that could take us on this rock." Bull sneered from her clump of fellow psychopaths, Xadria and Eric.
"Probably not in an un-fair fight." Leeroy admitted. "But we'll be spread thin, our heaviest weapons peace-bound, no appreciable support from our gunships or the Shadow, Ghost won't be providing a tac-net for long, AND until we're suited up and boots down in our walking coffins we're just mortal men." Leeroy shifted his tirade to address the room. "We won't be gunning down uppity peasants or half-starved pirates this time people! Our area of operations is a hot spot for the biggest black market arms dealing we've seen in the past seven years. I know some of you were blinded by your future purchases and forgot that our enemies can buy that same fancy hardware, but they can. We may be up against the usual slum rats and outlaws, but these ones could have fangs. Remember that."
Leeroy allowed the scolding to adequately set in before continuing.
"Once we're established planetside, the Shadow will be picking up some escort work in system for fuel and munitions. So anyone staying behind will be kept busy but don't expect much else besides. Sadly, that means Ghost won't be able to get it stuck in with the rest of us at the sharp end and we'll have to make do well enough without— not that he'd be all that useful ground side anyway given the developing nature of our AoO."
Leeroy's aside earned some quiet chuckles among the more technophobic crew members. Malik would have joined them once, but today he had to suck his teeth at them. The fact that Ghost was an AI still didn't sit entirely well with him, but that hadn't stopped Ghost from guiding Malik back to the strike force when he'd had gotten cut off while scouting during a pirate raid nine months back. Ghost hadn't exactly saved his life or anything, but it'd won its way off his shit list that night. Since then, the AI had been a useful tool on more than one job. Malik knew there were others aboard who shared similar experiences. Slowly but surely the AI was winning over the crew but its presence aboard their ship was still a hot button issue, not unlike their current unwelcome guests.
"Which brings me to my next point," Leeroy continued. "In case you were wondering why Bim and Treu were here, we're not dropping them off planetside. They'll be joining us on this job as initially planned, though in a subcontractor capacity instead of as civilian attaches."
The assembly burst into an uproar, agitators crying in outrage while rationalists tried to bawl them in line. Xadria didn't utter a word and just headed for the door to leave, four more mercs following her example. Before they could leave or another debate could escalate into a fist fight, Leeroy hammered the ceiling for order and received a moment of calm in the eye of the building storm.
"They WON'T be on the line with us!" Leeroy roared. "Princess, Hero! You'll be my command staff and so will Bim once she learns the ropes. Treu, you'll be operating at your discretion as we've already discussed. The rest of you, if you walk out on this you'll be missing the best paying job I've ever seen in my fifteen years as a hired gun. Beyond the pay we'll have full benefits, a loaded expense account, planetside R&R, plus we'll be working for a black marketeer who runs the most lucrative criminal empire for thirty stars in any direction."
His words were swallowed in the pressing silence that followed. It wasn't just the job they'd be walking out on. It was one of the worst parts of being a mercenary that on one ever mentioned, but when you decided that that one job wasn't worth your time, you had to live with it. Maybe nothing happens and it was all a waste of time, but maybe, just maybe you could have made the difference. That doubt was the kind that ate at your soul, wondering if they'd still be alive if you were there to save them. It wasn't just about the job, they were walking out when the rest of the outfit was about to throw its ass in the fire. Three of the would be deserters found their resolve, they wouldn't leave their buddies hung out to dry. The forth hovered indecisively, looking everywhere but in Treu's direction.
Xadria didn't even turn around.
"The only way I'll get on the same planet as that freak is if I'm there to murder him." She said before walking away. She'd only taken a single step before she spun on the spot to face Treu. "What the hell did you just say to me!"
Malik, who'd been standing nearest to the titan of a man, hadn't heard him so much as whisper. Xadria lingered, glowering at him while she waited for an answer that clearly wasn't going to be forthcoming, then stomped out of the room. Malik glanced warily at Treu but the man could have been carved from marble for all the expression he showed. Leeroy was another matter. He was torn somewhere between outrage and ice-cold bloodlust. Malik had to gulp at the sight of the traditionally stoic voice of reason among the crew so visibly hostile.
"As I was saying," Leeroy growled. "There's a lot of work to do an not very much time to get it done. Team leads and command staff, stick around for my next call with the Johnson and the follow up round table talks. Everyone else, get to work."