???-???? - The Moon Of Tansental – Remote Security Site 7

He prowled down the gangplank of the warship. Settling heavily onto the bland sands of this insignificant moon. He just waited silently observing as ships slowly traced their way through the sky nearby. One of the things that still mesmerized him was the sheer forces exerted upon a ship as it punctured through an atmosphere. The occupants kept alive from the howling void mere inches away. By the feats of minds much keener than his. He glanced at the cold stone wall ahead of him, rimmed with cameras, and a secure cold metal door set within. An array of security measures and deterrent launchers were built into this door. The security station would take but moments to scan him and understand the situation they were in. One of the ancients had business here.

In short order, a terrified looking Charoke opened the door, rapidly licking its eyes. It wheezed several times looking at his 'regal' figure.

"Lo... Lord Boletela..wee..welcome...to remote 7, my name is Uradon Pim. What can I help your exalted self with?" Uradon practically prostrated himself in terrified deference to the ancient conqueror.

“Oh good, you are the one I was looking for, I just came from the remains of a scrapyard. Some information I ripped from the few remaining terminals, points to you, you hold the role of observer to that thieves lair.” Boletela rasped, he was so close, he could feel it now.

Earlier

Boletela had followed the trail that started with the pirate fleet and went all the way to Loradin's scrapyard. When he arrived, he found some unexpected developments. The scrapyard itself was nothing special, another front on yet another credit obsessed world. But his honed sense of smell had led him to a pair of dead guards outside. One had been crushed into a compactor mercilessly. The other, however looked as though he had been shot with some kind of cannon. It's entire top half gone, legs left to rot, it had been armed but didn’t appear to have fired a single shot, interesting.

Inside was the wreckage of a fierce battle. Shredded tables were scattered from an explosion. Bullet holes riddled the entire wall. He walked through the soot. Letting the course of the battle play out in his mind. One had come from above, he looked at the neat hole blasted into the roof, then traced the paths of bloodstains. Fierce and quick, this battle was over in moments. The only real threat to the invader had been the turret, now scattered across the stone floors. Boletela walked into the hall and saw the rotting Magento corpse filling the hallway. It's armored head was completely torn asunder by what looked like a single blow. Boletela felt one of his hearts stir the slightest bit. This..deserved.. further inspection.

Slev Torrent – Tansental – Central Spire East Star-dock

After Slev's dramatic match in the Repository, Ambrosias had made special arrangements for him to receive some top of the line medical care. When Slev came back to consciousness, he had stumbled onto a waiting shuttle and spent the better part of several days receiving nanobot tank treatments for the myriad of broken bones and other near life threatening injuries.

Once he was whole again, Slev had gone to Otto's to drop off the gains from his shopping spree and check on Chitters. Not to mention, take a very needed nap. Otto and Chitter's had spent their time working on a....questionable... project. That Otto had named Project Problem Child. Well, Otto was working on the insane project. Chitters was dashing around the room following the laser pointer Otto had on him at all times to avoid accidental stabbings from a not so cuddly alien. Confident that things were at least mostly okay on the home front. Slev made his way to the dockyard to pay Conrad a visit.

The place was an intricate, nightmarish, labyrinth of interlocking hallways. That led out to sprawling landing pads. Slev had been wandering from map kiosk to map kiosk through these hallways. For an embarrassingly long time now, attempting to get to Conrad's office. It finally looked like he was making some headway now as he trekked another half mile across an open tarmac. Giving a friendly wave towards the workers shuttling cargo to and from cargo bays. Thankfully, no one had cared enough yet to actually check if he was supposed to be there. Everyone was far too busy powering the cogs of commerce that kept the world alive.

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Slev eventually found it, a conglomeration of cargo containers three stories tall converted into an office complex. Grated metal stair cases snaked their way up to a dozen different containers. Hastily welded together, links of grated metal plating provided walkways between the different porch-like entry ways. There were an awful lot of people milling about here. Slev was surprised at the lack of any railings. A fall from some of the taller office doorways could cripple him, even in the lower gravity. As he began his walk up the stairs, he noticed a burly figure ducked behind the doorway of one of the uppermost offices and began to hastily whisper something into a communications device clipped to his dockworker's jumpsuit. Slev made it up to the largest container set in the middle of the jumble of other offices. Yep, the door reads Conrad. Slev looked out behind him and noticed considerably fewer workers milling about. Whoever was really in charge had gotten news of his arrival. Being human really sucked when he was trying to go about things the quiet way.

Slev stepped into a plain room with drab, musty brown carpets, a few weathered old desks, and an abundance of out-of-date storage terminals. Then someone shot him point blank. With a screeching zing, razor sharp flettchets danced across his shoulder plate and cheek. Then a second shot flashed across his side, some of these bladed darts worming their way through the seams of his armor into the meat on his hip. Slev swung out his right arm desperately. and felt as his hand grazed a large barrel of some kind. His fingers caught on a lever and ripped the flettchett launcher from the figure. They were hiding behind the reception desk, right beside him. He dropped the launcher and put his weight into a vicious kick against the reception desk's edge. Propelling it violently into the scrambling figure. The assailant and the desk slammed into a terminal against the wall with a sickening, splattering sound.

Slev dropped into a crouch, rushing behind the nearest terminal. His pistol sprung into position barrel pointed deeper into the room. There wasn’t much cover in here, just four desks and rectangular terminals scattered throughout the room.

“Reaper, where?” He blurted into his helmet.

“One far left corner, one directly ahead under a desk, one approaching on the roof above.” Reaper coldly intoned.

Slev drew a bead on the center most desk and sprinted forward. He hit the desk at a sharp angle, knees bent, his shoulder impacted, and sent it end over end towards the final contact in the corner of the room. He whipped his gun down inches from the face of a terrified Charoke in a manager's jumpsuit. No gun, that's probably Conrad. His attention snapped back to the left corner, where an armored form was disentangling itself from the desk. It saw Slev aiming at it and tried to bring a pistol to bear. Slev dumped three shots through the desk, erasing the armored charoke. He angled the gun upward.

“Reaper, Acoustic Overlay" Suddenly, his world exploded in fragmenting sounds given form.

Every nearby source of vibration emitted blue and red waves. Sizes varying based on intensity and distance. Reaper helpfully highlighted probable hostiles in red. Slev began tracking the soft blue footsteps on the roof directly above him. A moment later, deep red lines emanated from the footsteps as a breach-loading weapon was cocked. Slev immediately fired two shots at the acoustic marker. One ricocheted dangerously off the roof to the wall, then back into the carpet. The other punched through the metal container, rewarding him with screams and green blood oozing through the bullet hole in the roof.

He spun towards Conrad, still cowering on the ground.

"Hey, are you good? The matron sent me to help!” Slev quickly shouted to him.

“They have my daughter gods above, they will kill her,” Conrad started making an awful, mournful, keening sound.

“Hey!” Slev lightly slapped him to get his attention. “Where? Do you know?”

"Shes in bay 70. But there's so many of them." Conrad stifled his emotions, and to Slev's surprise, he picked up a fletchett launcher. A determined look crossed his squat brow.

Slev took a good look at him for a moment. "Don't get fucking shot, I'll go get her.”

Slev didn’t wait for his response and burst open the front door with a casual shove. The door flung the Charoke gangster, trying to sneak his way in, into a tumbling death spiral as he rolled careening down a flight of stairs before plunging off an edge. Slev watched his fall dispassionately. There were a dozen or so armored figures now scurrying from walkways into the cover of awnings and cargo crates. This was gonna be rough. Slev boosted onto the roof of Conrad's container. Getting low to break line of sight, Slev crawled the rest of the way to a protruding condenser for a momentary shield and activated his Comms.

“Otto! Is your project ready?” Slev barked out as projectiles started clanging across the roof around him.

There was a surprised pause. "Ready enough, Maybe?”

“I could use some help down here. About to fight a dozen pissed-off frogs, and probably a lot more than that when I make it to bay 70.”

Otto let out an evil chuckle, a surprisingly ominous sound coming from him. “Will deploy now, press button when you want. Should be there in not too long”