ooRP note: anyone with a Zoner character on or around Pygar can freely add their bits. Down the line, this will be expanded to Outcasts as the story progresses towards an event.
4th May, 834 AS, Omicron Theta Planet Pygar orbit...
Another month, another chance at a "fresh start" for the Zoners of Corfu, working day and night to bring peace, at the very least to their own corner of space what with Freeport 9 being firmly in the Corsair claw for the foreseeable future. Wrecks were still scattered throughout the system; Zoner, Outcast, Corsair and even Core by nature -- all a testament to the brutal life out here in the Omicrons.
Today was, however, different. Instead of the usual routine, unloading cargo, checking on the nearby Freeport 5, drafting up new patrol routes... everything slowed to a halt just a few hours after midday. It wasn't all too unusual, after all, Theta had been a warzone for months, but now there were no clear signs of any "impending raids" by overzealous pilots. As time dragged on, eventually, a Zoner patrol hailing from Gran Canaria made its way into Theta and onwards to deal with the ongoing situation.
"Cruiser Adaheli, this is Zoner Patrol Omega-Four, hailing from Gran Canaria. We've been informed the xeno-archeologists on Pygar have found an important relic. Is there any data you could share with us?"
"This is Adaheli, reading you loud and clear. Negative, we are just as interested in finding out what's going on as you are."
"Copy, we'll head down and check things on our own, in that case. Omega-Four, over and out."
With the press of a button, the docking ring opened and made way for the freighter to slip through, its escorts following suit closely behind. If the rumors were right, then this was a big find.
While the sandstorms raged on the planets surface. The rumors raged and spread underneath in the vast tunnel system of Pygar. If you weren't familiar with the normal buzz of the city, you wouldn't notice it, but locals and regular visitors saw it. The amount of outgoing flights was increasing. Some of the more ordinary shops, were starting inventarisation too early, some were outright closing.
In one of the common caverns the "Golden Eagle" bar was a lot fuller than usual. Arthur looked out of its window while he was waiting for his cards. He could see the change going through the community. The more downtrodden and dirty people of the populace had grim looks on their faces, while the scientists, traders and some of the religious folks were too energetic. Something wasn't right.
"Big blind has gotta pay, Arthur. You know the rules" said King waving. Arthurs attention went back to the burly Libertonian in front of him. "Sorry." he muttered before pushing some of his chips to the pool. "You seem distracted man, haven't you heard the news?" King continued "Some of them eggheads dug too deep. Don't you worry your pretty head, if something happens the Order will clear it up."
"Are we going to suffer with another rendition of Ode to Liberty, King?" the woman on Arthurs left pined. She leaned on to the table, her red locks falling over her cards. "Or are we going to play?" she smiled while calling the raise. King grinned "Oh, we can play Babs. Never knew you didn't like my singing. Maybe I can sing you something else?"
The Kusari man between them was sulking in his chair. "Should have went to Livadia. First Gran Canaria and now here. We Zoners are a cursed lot." he lamented. "How did the Order not find anything, but some Zoner hooked up on Moonshine could?". Babs looked playfully at the Kusari. "Come on Ace, you know nothing could stop a Zoner with a deathwish."
Arthur turned to King. "Do you know what they've found exactly?". King leaned in. "I don't know nothing. My friends don't know nothing, but their friends..." he looked around and raised the bet. "Their friends say it's something. Something big. And if you ain't up to it, better get moving. So are you in or are you out?"
The pair on fron of him had the answer. A two and a nine of spades. Tough decisions and bad luck. Was that his future? Arthur mulled over his choices. "I fold" he stood up from the table and gathered his things. "Are you going to Livadia by any chance?" asked Ace. Arthur turned, smiled and replied "I'm going to ask around."
Planet Pygar, one of the many Zoner existing settlements.
PSI Agent Luke Garcia
Luke Garcia held his portable communication device up to the payment reader of the bar and then stood up from the bar stool he had been sitting on next to the counter for the last hour. He nodded vaguely to the waiter and headed toward the door, taking one last look around.
The bar was populated with people chatting loudly, playing cards and drinking drink after drink. That club was always crowded, and people tended to be quite impaired by alcohol, so Garcia used to frequent it when he was making his routine rounds trying to gather some useful information. That day however, it was emptier than usual, and among the regular customers whom he was accustomed to seeing, a certain general uneasiness reigned like a shadow.
That anomaly had caught Luke's attention from the first moment he arrived and had activated his unconscious alerts as a trained agent, which had encouraged him to hang around for a long time, listening to conversations, playing a few hands of poker and buying drinks to some of the more talkative regulars. After just over an hour and a half of painstaking work, and having lost a few hundred credits, Luke had discovered information that could surely interest his superior.
The Pontifical Service of Intelligence, or The Key, as it was commonly known among the people of the New Covenant Church, had several agents like Luke distributed throughout many of Pygar's settlements doing the same task as him. Nothing in particular was sought, but the PSI Director, the Magister Yuri Orlov, always liked to have everything under control, whether in his own house or in the neighbors'. After all, within The Key everyone knew that Orlov was obsessed with surveillance, and he was determined to know as much as he could about both enemies and allies. The Director always said that information was power, and the Sacred Mandate of Deux needed men with power to be carried out. However, Luke was quite convinced that Orlov personally enjoyed finding out other people's secrets.
The agent left the bar and headed through the underground galleries of the settlement directly towards the nearest monorail stop. He went down to the platform and waited for the next unit to arrive, while he lit a cigarette and his head was pondering what he had just discovered. An alien artifact? In Pygar? Well, if you knew something about the planet, in theory it didn't have to be so strange, after all it was here where the Rheinlanders had found in 795 AS the artifacts that had started the Nomad War. However, after the war the Order had explored Pygar intensively, and it was assumed that none remained. Certainly, if this story turned out to be real, Director Orlov was going to be very pleased in knowing about this finding, given his latest efforts to gather as much knowledge as possible about the Nomads.
This sudden interest of Orlov could have been considered heretical by the teachings of the Church, but Luke thought it was quite understandable, considering that lately Nomad activity had skyrocketed a lot. Just a week ago there had been a fairly serious battle in Theta against a huge contingent of xenomorphs, near Freeport 9, in which the two destroyers of the Pontifical Navy had participated along with a Corsair fleet. That encounter hadn't gone very well, and the human forces had had to withdraw after suffering considerable casualties and damage.
Bad business, really. From what was known, the aberrations were becoming more and of increasingly larger sizes, so no matter how heretical it may seem, in this case Luke agreed with the Director. The Church needed to know more about these impious monsters in order to confront them with any chance of victory. In any case, if the believers in the Faith were not yet ready for something like this, The Key would take care of hiding what they should not know. After all, that was part of their job too.
The monorail connected directly to the hangars core where García had his ship landed, so the agent arrived there in about 15 minutes. His cover was to play the identity of a small basic commodity trader who bought low off-planet and sold high on Pygar, so he moved around in a Sunburst-class freighter that allowed him to go unnoticed among the many foreign traders visiting the settlements on the planet. He completed routine access checks, accessed his vessel, and took off toward Faith Haven.
Unlike many other Zoner settlements located in Pygar, Faith Haven had its underground part located in a relatively small cave system, which had no connection to the vast complex of galleries that connected most colonies. Therefore, it could only be accessed by air, or much more dangerously, by traveling across the surface of the planet. Luke flew through a Grade 4 electromagnetic storm for the next hour until his sensors picked up the beacons of the NCC settlement's landing pads, and he was able to see its two characteristic and gigantic biodomes among the sand clouds.
The static-choked voice of air traffic control echoed through the cabin. "Ship with identifier Bravo Lima Six Two Victor, you're entering the airspace of the Faith Heaven colony. Indicate intentions."
Garcia activated the microphone on his headphones, while connecting to the control tower's frequency. "This is Bravo Lima Six Two Victor, commercial freighter, requesting permission to land."
"You're cleared to land on pad B, navigate to the beacon and wait for contact with the tractor beams. Have a nice day and Deux be with you."
The intelligence agent landed his ship and went directly to the Pontifical Palace taking an underground bus, and once there he accessed by showing his PSI credentials. He wasted no time and a few minutes later he was entering Yuri Orlov's office, which unlike the rest of the offices in the Palace, it was in a part of the building that was below the surface. The Director of The Key barely looked up from his desk to glance at it, and soon returned to focusing on the report in front of him, with a look of annoyance on his face. Luke stood at attention with his hands behind his back and remained silent as he waited, until Orlov finally sighed, turned off the screen of his device, and fixed his questioning eyes on his subordinate.
"Agent Garcia, what brings you here?" The Magister leaned over the desk and rested his chin on his clasped hands. "I hope it's something important enough to come and tell me personally, instead of sending me a report, as everyone."
Luke cleared his throat and said a single sentence. "It's an X Protocol, Your Eminence."
Orlov raised an eyebrow, and a flash of interest appeared in his eyes. He then pressed a button under his desk, causing a sliding titanium plate to block hermetically the access door. From that moment on, that office was a completely soundproof bunker and inaccessible to anyone from the outside.
The Director got up from his seat, walked around the desk and stood in front of Garcia, leaning on the table. "Report immediately."
Orlov had barely whispered the order, and seemed completely calm and relaxed, but Luke knew that this information must have sent him into an internal anxiety attack. The Magister had been waiting for something that would come under the name of X Protocol for a long time.
"I've fairly credible information that an extraterrestrial relic has been found on the planet. The information doesn't come from the most reliable channels, but there are too many channels separately repeating the same story for it to be simple drunken nonsense." García was quite convinced of the veracity of the information, but he still had to persuade his boss. "Furthermore, it seems that the news is spreading like wildfire. It's not talked about openly, and I guess that's why we haven't heard anything here yet, but it's something that's present in people's whispers. There are colonists who are leaving, I suppose due to fear that what happened 40 years ago will be repeated." The agent shrugged. "I don't know how to express it correctly but there is something solid in all of this. A few months ago, when we believed that the Corsairs could end up invading Pygar, the inhabitants of the colonies were determined to stay and defend the planet with their lives. Now however, people pack up and leave... It's evident that the fear is authentic, and it has to be based on something real."
"Do we know anything else about this artifact?" The Director opened his arms. "Who discovered it, where is it, what exactly is it about?"
Luke shook his head. "Nothing yet, Your Eminence, but I've been aware of this today and by chance. This's another of the details that makes me think the information is good, that it has been something sudden. Last week no one was talking about this and now it's on too much people's lips."
Yuri Orlov nodded slow and thoughtfully. He was silent for a few seconds and then spoke again. "This is worrying news, agent Garcia. As we already know, everything related to Nomad aberrations is very dangerous and usually ends in heresy and ruin." The Director clenched his fists. "However, we're talking about the potential existence of an impious artifact on the very soil of our planet. The risk is maximum for our people and for the rest of the inhabitants of all Pygar, so we've no choice but to face this situation thoroughly." The Magister stood up and sat down behind his desk again, without stopping watching Luke with eyes blazing. "I'm going to authorize an investigative operation without limit of funds." Orlov pointed at the agent with a finger that looked like a claw. "You've discovered it, so you will have the honor of organizing it. Choose 5 agents you trust, inform them and we'll meet here in 24 hours. By then I want a complete plan of action that will lead us to discovering what the hell is going on, and where that relic is, if it exists. Once we know that, we can assess the threat and study the possibility of destroying it..." The Director showed a devilish smile that froze Garcia's blood. "...or taking possession of it, if it's the Will of Deux."
The constant thundering sound of the sandstorms was something new to Arthur. In his opinion Pygars surface was ruled by a bloodthirsty deity. Bashing its fist against the ground, trying to pluck the poor saps from their holes and eat their souls. The haphazard flickers of the ceiling lights didn't help. Synced with the great roar of the furious god from above, they sent strikes of terror in his soul. He didn't like living in confined spaces, and he hoped he wouldn't die in one either. On each blink of the lights he stopped not knowing what to do, while the locals just continued their steps.
It was three days since his search started and he had no luck. Covert skills weren't his forte, nor was luck on his side. In the begining he moved around bars asking drunks, brigands and blackguards, but to no avail. Everybody knew an artifact was found, but of it's nature nothing was known. "A ship!" said one drunk Zoner "A mighty ship, which will take us back to Sol!". A trader and his security were sure it was of Nomad origin. "It's an egg. It will birth a new alien queen, and the entire Omicrons are forfeit." the security officer said quietly. "This is my last drink here, and I am going to good ol' Liberty.". There were numerous pastors out in the streets screaming "Woe be upon us! We have found a instrument of the Devil! Destroy it good people! Destroy it or perish!".
Arthur didn't know anyone of authority in the various settlements. Even if he knew, he wasn't sure they would confine in him. He wasn't able or knowledgebla to hack into databases or comm channels. So he went for a more natural approach. Where there's smoke there's fire or in his case, were there is cause for celebration, there is alcohol. Where there is work, tools are needed. Going through various bars was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Beside he didn't believe any of the eggheads doing the excavating would be let to roam free. Loose lips sink ships as they say.
A scientist will have taste, will want good quality alcohol. He would need fine tools. In one of the houses great agencies will move like clockwork, secrecy would be ensured by cloak and dagger. But in the world of the free Zoners, words spread quickly. A contractor would try and cut costs as much as possible. Legitimate traders would have documents, accounting, paper trails. So he went around seedy dealers, asking for big purchases, machinery, alcohol, food, labour. This led him to the upper caverns. They were closest to the star ports, but were also closer to the turmoil on the surface, making rent dirt cheap. A perfect recipe for a shady rogue. Arthur had another lucky break, the same smugglers valued their life more than credits and skipped town. "May you live in interesting times" was a curse among their kind.
Another strike of darkness, and then light. Arthur found himself in front of the "Blind Barber". He tried to brush off the sand and muck from his ragged coat but a voice from inside yelled "Come on in, young man. Dontcha worry bout the dust.". The front side of the building was built, but the insides were a small dugged out alcove. The room didn't have a normal shape and although it was mostly empty till the middle, the far side had numerous corners, which were filled with big stacks of boxes. The more you looked at the far corners, the more confused you got. A faint smell of rubbing alcohol filled the room.
"Now now, boy. Dontcha stand there, take a seat and let Mr. Basil here, give ya' a nice clean shave." said the old man. Arthur already tired of trying to take in the room, turned to the barber, and confusion hit his senses again. The man was dressed nice in comfortable brown pants and white shirt, with a colorful bowtie around his neck. His beard was a ragged mess, while his hair, or what was left of it hadn't seen water in a long time. His was full, but not all of his teeth were present. His left eye was clearly fake, while the other was muddled.
Infront of the man were torn leather chairs and mirrors. Arthur knew the smuggler had a legitimate front, but he didn't expect it to be a barber ship. Basil went up to Arthu surprisisngly quick for his age, and gripped him under the arm, pulling him to the chairs. The lamps stopped for a good few seconds. Arthur felt a pull and when the room returned he was by the old barber chairs. "Hey there youngling. Dont look so sheepish, I can see you need a nice clean cut, yessirree.". Arthur was almost pushed to the chair, the cobwebs and dust softening his descent. "Whats it gonna be now sonny. Mr. Basil here can win you a few looks from the ladies. I can give you a buzz cut, only on the right side, a fade, a choppy, a nice good hot shave, a..." the man continued to list his services, but for Arthur he might as well be speaking in tongues.
"What about an old fashioned drink?" interrupted Arthur. The old timer exposed a straight razor in his hand and stopped. Arthu was unsure if he wanted to continue, the speed of barber was incredible. "Old Mr. Basil here, could fix you up with something strong, sonny. But you don't look cut out for this." the barbers right eye was fixed on the mirror. "I just want some information" stammered Arthur. "Oh, really now? You are a curious sort." Basil looked at the man in the chair from top to bottom "Not a fighter by the looks of ya. Not a trader or an academic, your clothers are too moth-eaten. And you don't have a devilish glare to your eyes, so you can't be a scoundrel or a brigand.". The barber laughed, but the razor in his hand moved slowly to Arthurs neck "Are you the first honest man, to enter the 'Blind Barber'?".
The lights flickered, the razor moved closer. Arthur hoped the hesitation was a sign of curiosity and pleaded "How about some tit for tat? I ask my question, you ask yours? I leave your shop, you leave a honest man alive?". The razor stopped, both men held their breath, even the thundering whistle of the sandstorms above subsided. Terror burned Arthurs throat and the smell of alcohol made him dizzy. "A game? Your life is on the razors edge and you propose a game?" the old timer laughed "Don't be fooled by my lack of sight. I haven't met a man that I couldn't read."
"What do you know about the artifact?" Arthur asked, trying to stay as still as possible. "I know enough to stay away. I know scholars from far away are comming to tinker with it. If I had my sight I would leave." the barbers razor touched the young mans neck. "Now who are you? Who are you working for?". Arthur took a heavy breath. "I'm Arthur Gaehan, born on Erie. I work for no one.". "So you came here all alone? Do you not value your life?" the hand holding the razor tightened, the barbers brow furrowed. A thunder on the surface and darkness covered them. A more macabre smell sneaked by the mask of the alcohol "You said you wanted a honest man, not a smart one!" Arthur pleaded.
Laughter errupted from the old timer, the edge distanced from the sweating neck. "Do you know where I can learn more about it?" the younger man sat up in the chair. "Now hold on sonny, you're getting a little too big for your britches." Basil hand pushed Arthur back into the cobwebs. "Aye. I helped a few people meet, shook some hands and prepared some purchases. Specific location I can't tell you. But I can nudge you in the right direction. But we have yet to decided will you be leaving." the barber swinged the chair, facing his victim to the back of the room "You ain't the first man, to ask questions about things they shouldn't know.".
From here you could see behind the facade of boxes. Horror, decay and death laid there. The spilled alcohol and spirits initially masking the miasma gave way to its full grisly stench. "I take no joy in my line of work. But some secrets must be protected. Now defend your case. Why should you know?". Color faded from Arthurs face, not for the first time panic clenched his soul. Shaking hands gripped into the armrests. A long time ago he vowed to not fall to fear, but this was his first trial since then. Slowly time passed, the cruel deity from above listened silently, a stone faced killer examined the his next victim patiently. Arthur closed his eyes and only darkness remained.
First he forced his breathing. Slowly he let go of the armrests and moved to get up. His hands still uneasy, were clenched into fists infront of him. The barber didn't move, he watched more confused than worried, as the younger man willed his hands open. "I killed a brother on Erie. I watched a lover die on Canaria. I am a sinner." Arthur opened his eyes, looked directly into Basils cloudy eye "I am a nobody who wants to help Pygar, and maybe find a little forgiveness. Mr. Basil, please help me.".
"Damn fool, a sinner he says." angry swears filled the room. "You've got some balls kiddo, showing up and just blabbering. I ought to let you lie with the others in the back." The razor moved, but the young man didn't. Their eyes still locked, a couple of drops of blood were hanging on the blade. Basil didn't miss, if Arthur flinched he would have been dead. "And the worst thing is you believe yourself." the razor disappeared just as quickly as it came, a grimy piece of paper taking its place. "You will never come back here. You will die a miserable death if you don't get smart. Leave."
Arthur took the note and walked to the door. Turning to the blind barber, he said "Thank you." and left as quickly as possible. The cacaphony of the slums engulfed him, and he forced himself to cross a few blocks before puking. On the way to his room he shivered, when there he collapsed to the floor. Fear still gripping his heart and his soul in shambles.
Within Vonclouds office at the Pygar Administration building
"So let me get this straight, someone has found something, but we don't know who it is or what it is they have found?"
Voncloud looked towards the administrator who nodded slowly confirming his statement.
"And the only information we are getting, is from hearsay, drunkards and gossip?"
Once more the administrator nodded, shuffling nervously.
Voncloud adjusted his glasses then stood up, pacing over to a window. The window peered into the main Pygar settlement. The first that was built it became the central landing port after the docking rings had been built and saw the largest share of traffic for the planet. Naturally it would become the focal point for much of the information surrounding Pygar and any news from the Omicrons. Voncloud had known about the Relics found under the planets surface in the past, even when the first parts of the Colony were being built he hadn't planned on stopping those who wanted to dig. The truth was, the Relics and digging had slipped his mind entirely, after all there were more pressing matters he had to attend to such as making Pygar Self sufficient, creating a working Militia along side the NCC during the Conflict, the Freeport 9 mess. In general the digging for relics was relegated to a team of Administrators who would manage permits and vet researchers who wished to search for these relics. One such administrator was stood in the office.
Crossing his arms Voncloud addresses them once more.
"It can't be ignored that there is a 'Buzz' in the atmosphere surrounding this apparent discovery. There's more substance behind this then just some Drunkards tale. I want you and your team to see if there is anyone who had requested a permit lately who might be our man, and if you do, bring them to me."
The Administrator shuffled nervously once more before doing their best to clear their throat "Sir, Though me and my team will endeavour to find this person, I'm afraid to say that there are many who come to Pygar and dig. Without ever contacting us. There is a good chance this may be one such person."
Voncloud nodded keeping his gaze out of the window "Of course, I am not naïve to think that everyone coming to dig were just researchers. There are credits to be made with these sorts of items and many willing to exploit it for their own gain. Its just the way of things. As such I will be tasking a few of the Militia to begin searching for this individual so they and I can have a chat."
The Administrator nods their head "Yes Sir. I will get my team working on looking through our records now" They turn and take their leave leaving Voncloud to his thoughts.
He sighs whilst he watch's the hustle and bustle of the settlement, he mused a moment realising it yet had an actual name but his amusement faded quickly as he dwelled on the current matter. If someone had managed to find a Xeno Relic the consequences for Pygar could be dire, drawing a whole new target upon the planet. His people had still yet to recover from the shadow of potential war with the Corsair's and the battle of Freeport 9. To potentially have the threat of Nomads and their followers may be the breaking point. He had to find this person and their discovery First"
Marko al-Assam was not a happy man. Ever since returning from the warzone around the Freeport, he seemed to be a shadow of his former self. Food did not have the same taste – even the red kibble from the Eagle seemed just so much dusty cardboard.
It didn’t help that half the population of Pygar seemed to assume that he fought for the losing side. His friends, the ones that survived anyway, boasted of the number of corsairs they splashed, the totals growing along with their inebriation. Marko, on the other hand, couldn’t make the same boast, seeing as he fought WITH the corsairs… He knew he never fired upon a fellow zoner, but his own conscience and that of the desert planet were two different things. He continued pushing the cleaning unit to the next car of the tram.
With no outfit willing to trust him to watch their back, his ship has been relegated to long-term storage, caves which were falling apart by the day but were cheap enough. With the same problem plaguing his applications to internal security services, Marko was forced to find another way to make a living. He knew that he could always leave, and join the fight against the Libertonians, or escort transports from Gran Canaria. But Pygar was his home, and here he would stay.
He activated the bulkhead with his low-level override, something he was at least still trusted to do. Without any people in the car, he didn’t even bother checking the cabin pressure status before moving forward into the airlock. He’d already almost killed some poor sod who had fallen into a drunken stupor after being left by his mates. But this late into “night-time”, most people kept to their underground apartments, which is just the way he liked it.
He was still turning the idea of taking out a loan and flying to Gran Canaria when the airlock finished cycling, and he was met with five hard men with guns, all pointed straight at him. Almost inadvertently, he noticed containers of gear deeper in the car. A hysterical thought burst into his brain: ‘Those would be a hell of a lot of work to move to let the unit clean the surfaces.’, immediately followed by ‘That’s not gonna be my problem for much longer.’
But instead of shooting, one man barked a command, and his team lowered their weapons, still keeping them ready. He holstered his own, and advanced towards Marko, who now noticed a small pin on his uniform. “Keep you hands in the air, and we will not need to escalate further.” Marko complied. “State your name and purpose here.” “My name is Marko al-Assam. I’m with Dusty-less Solutions… I just clean the trams!”
“Boss, it doesn’t matter. He’s already seen too much. We don’t have time to lug a prisoner around.”
Garcia raised his arm and waved off his subordinate. “And what brought you to this tram in particular?”
Marko noticed the man watching him intently, and said the first thing that came to mind. “Nothing! I just like doing the rounds afterhours!” He had a sudden moment of clarity. “This is about that dig site, isn’t it? Look I promise, I don’t know anything about that stuff!”
But he did – he couldn’t help connecting the dots. This route went into what the locals named the “Doldrums”. There were always landgrab bonuses for the taking from Admin, but even new settlers on Pygar knew better than to take advantage of them. Nothing ever happened in the Doldrums – until now, apparently. The man others called boss clearly saw that Marko made some kind of connection. “You look like a local. You know who we are, you know what this is about. So what can you do for us to avoid getting discovered in the wastes during the next overflight?” The man casually leaned on the wall of the tram, but Marko realized that this would also open up the field of fire from his team. “I.. I can help you with that gear. This thing has a grav pallet built in, that’s how I move it around!” The man nodded, still not quite impressed. “And, and.. I can delay the tram!”
One of the others rolled their eyes. “You know that won’t do anything. This thing will wait for a few minutes and then the autopilot will speed up on its way back to stay on schedule.” “No! I mean I can really delay it. I have an override! It’d be my ass, but hey, better that than the desert, right?” Marko let out an anxious chuckle, still looking at the boss.
He looked back, assessing, and finally gave a nod. “Mission proceeds as planned. We’ll have Marko here give us some technical assistance.”
-
Marko trudged back along the track, still unable to believe he was alive. Even the grit striking his suit felt like a long-awaited shower, reminding him that his body was still able to feel. He needed badly to piss, and his throat was parched, but he focused on getting back to the hub, and what he would do when he got there. He couldn’t see anything past his own hands, but his internal map laid out a clear path back, alongside the empty track.
His interface pinged with a string of updates, and he knew he was in range of short-term comms. He didn’t even bother enabling the hud to read what it said – everything could wait until he did what he had to do. He doffed he suit in the airlock and left it there before it even finished cycling. He wiped his face clean of the decon foam, and still dripping, pushed past a small crowd of commuters who waited forlornly near the blinking red lights of the tram terminal.
“Hey, aren’t you with maintenance? How long do we gotta wait for this thing to arrive?!”
Marko ignored them all, trudging steadily towards the local neural net node office. He found a cubicle, and collapsed into the off-white blocky chair connected to the terminal. He swiped his card, and mashed through the confirmation screens, barely even looking at the credit amount. Only after hitting “send” after typing his message did he allow himself to take a long, shaky breath, and let the lights of the cubicle wash over his pallid face.
A Master cuts off a boy's finger.
The boy cries and runs away.
The master calls him back and holds up his own finger.
The boy looks at it and is enlightened.
"Why would you cut a child?" Arthur mumbled under his breath as his body slid into the hole. He held his breath, and swallowed his stomach for the next section. "Cutting people's fingers, these blokes are insane. Who the hell makes up these ridles?" Finally, he reached the crack and saw the inner garden.
The artificial grass was a mix of colors reminiscent of autumn leaves. Orangue hue masked almost all other colors in the sanctum. The fissures and crevices of the cavern walls were filled with candles and torches. In the middle was the Reverend, dressed in jet black. Inky robes flowed and crashed into his stygian throne. A squad of blue-robed guards was kneeling in front of him. He was yelling another lecture on brotherly love while designing their routes.
Their faces were already familiar to Arthur. He scribbled the names and the routes yet again. For many, the selection of people and destinations could seem bizarre, but when it was formed into hours, gathered into days, and poured out on a map, it made sense. People who hate each other don't conspire or share. They were always on guard against each other. "And remember, love thy brother. Love him! Guard him against sin!"
The Reverend turned to his chair while adorations filled the room behind him. As the blue robes left, the red ones came in. They were his conspirators, for the next hour, in ascending order of importance, daily life will be discussed. Staring at the number of new followers, their progress, to schemes and gossip between the various groups.
Holding his breath, Arthur started his crawl to the cell. He had timed it to be there at least ten minutes before his patron would check on him. "Ten thousand credits for this bull... a week to feel the old loon's wisdom. 'A room close to his Eminence' yeah, right.". As the walls closed in, the light vanished. He moved slowly and felt around for the drop with his hands. After a few minutes, the end expanded into a tiny room. Arthur jumped lightly onto the floor. He kneeled and stretched on the mat. A dim amber light oozed lightly from where he came.
There was a silent knock before the door opened. His teacher came with a candle, giving off a gentle light. "Have you found enlightenment, pupil?". "Which finger was cut off?" the teacher grimaced. His bushy eyebrows furrowed, and his teeth clicked. With anoyance, he said, "No, no, it's not about the finger. Next time, accept the breather mask. It will clear your mind. Let me tell you another koan.".
A monk was seeking enlightenment.
The master sent him home, thinking of an ox.
The monk couldn't leave his room.
Later, the master asked him why.
The monk replied, "My horns are too big.".
Pearly teeth flashed in a smile, the cleric proud of some great design unseen by Arthur. "I will leave you to ponder this one, acolyte.". A loud clank from the door was followed by subsiding footsteps. Arthur reached up and started his climb. "I hope that man from the NCC is right. I'm going to lose my mind if help doesn't come soon.". Excited voices reverberated between the walls.
"More and more scientists join or flock!" chimed one monk. "Sire, the miracles you have provided prove you're the holliest of men! Truly, the object is a sign from God.". The minions had finished the procedures and were now cleaning the hands and feet of their lord. His body was twitching from the orange haze that poured into his system. "Father, he is here.". Another figure had appeared at the door. If he hadn't been announced, Arthur wouldn't have noticed him.
He leaned off the door and approached them with finesse. All of his various equipment was fastened tightly, and no sound was heard from his steps. "Jones, we need to talk about our deal." The Reverend stood up on his throne and locked eyes with the newcomer. "I agree." The cleric motioned for his followers to be calm. "Address me correctly in front of my clergy.".
Disgust flashed for a moment on the brigands faces. "You are late on your promises. You should have had everything set up for extraction. I shall not tolerate anymore delays!". Hands moved into silk, and metal jumped into view. In the blink of an eye, red robes gave way to guns and swords. The jet-black robes and throne disappeared beneath a wave of willing bodies.
Arthur held his breath as both sides waited. "As you see, we are prepared to face any aggression." The reverend spoke calmly. "Why do you doubt a holy man?" His voice came from everywhere. The lonesome blackguard eased his posture. His face slowly and deliberately turned to Arthur. Something felt wrong, as if both men were suddenly in front of each other. Arthur felt his soul read. They were both at the poker table, and he knew he was beat. "Reverend," the Outcast spat in the grass, "can you forgive a sinner?"
Arthur rushed into the gap beside him. As if his body forgot the way. Every day he took this route, yet fear slowed him down. He fell into the cell, and a crack came from his ankle. As he limped through the compound, he read his notes for the guard patrols. At this time, his only chance was the path near the Holy Room. Old service doors rushed past him as faraway voices took up a strange chant.
The Holy Room was where the Reverend performed his miracles. As he turned the corner, he saw the metal door etched with strange markings. His mouth watered, and his stomach turned. He had seen people come out of there without wounds, without scars, without burn marks, and yet they all looked somewhat wrong. "Why do I feel disgust?". He held his breath and rushed besides the door. A low thrum came to his chest when he passed, and after a few unsure strides, he vomited. He leaned against the wall and continued away from the acursed place.
Arthur left the compound through an old service shaft. The public part of the settlement was filled to the brim. Smiles, cheers, and songs echoed above in the high ceilings of the tunnel. People clad in white silk danced with bare feet, as Arthur hurried to the visitor lodge. A small crowd of would-be acolytes, passersby, and traders watched the unending festival outside. "Watch it, geezer!" Arthur said as he ran an old man to the ground. Jumping a few steps at a time up the staircase.
The door opened, and the men were waiting. A colorful ensemble of blue and yellow robes greeted Arthur. His teacher was in front, smiling. "Acolyte Gaehan, have your studies borne fruit?" A pistol was thrown in front of Arthur. "Why did you bring, tools of the Devil into this Holy City?". The men overtook him, and he was lost in a waterfall of fists and kicks. Curses poured at his ears as hurt gripped him. At first he remained stoic, but his will gave and he pleaded. His consciousness slipped, and he drifted into a dark sea of pain.
The old man dusted himself off and went to the backroom. Muffled shouting and painful screams came from upstairs. As he hurried to his room, a prayer was on his lips. The verses continued in a sweet silent song, in contrast to the sharp screams. A man asked for mercy, but none came. The old man's room was humbly decorated. He took out the Arthurs notepad from within his coat. On the last page a panicked "Help" was scratched. As he unscrewed one of the room side panels, the beatings gave way to deathly silence. Under the panel a hidden comms terminal flashed to light. The sacred NCC symbol, a glimmer of hope. "Deux Our Lord is merciful and forgiving, even though we have rebelled against him. Amen".
Agent Luke Garcia watched from one of the car windows as that maintenance guy walked slowly away from the tram along the track. The wind and sand hit him and shook him from side to side, but he kept walking. He was soon lost in the swirling dust, and García could no longer see him.
He turned and addressed his men, who were beginning to move the boxes of military equipment. "I don't trust this guy to keep the tram stopped for too long, so speed up as fast as you can."
Agent Mackintosh nodded and smiled. "Well, boss, at least he's left his cleaning unit." He pointed towards the machine that Agent Wells was operating. Garcia returned the smile and then fell back into his thoughts, while absentmindedly touched the pin with the Ponrifical Service of Intelligence emblem that he wore on his lapel.
In the end they had been lucky to meet that poor bastard, Marko. Luke had been about to put a bullet in his head when when showed up, but now he was very glad he didn't do it. Indeed, even if Marko couldn't stop the tram much longer, the contribution of the gravitatory cleaning unit would allow them to move all the equipment to the entrance of the Doldrums in one go. That would make their trip across the surface shorter, and more difficult for them to be seen from the air. Of course they ran the risk of him telling someone what they were doing, but something he had perceived in Marko's face told him that he was too grateful of continuing alive to react that way. They would be on their way soon anyway, and if they moved quickly they wouldn't give any air patrols time to locate them. This was really a very inhospitable region of the planet.
Garcia came back to reality and checked that all the equipment drawers were already placed on the cleaning unit. Then he began to put on his environmental suit that would protect him from the storm outside the tram. The entrance to the settlement's small cave system was not far, barely a 20-minute walk along the surface, but Luke knew that without the suit any unexpected variation in intensity in the storm could wipe him out in a matter of seconds. When he finished, he made sure that the rest of his 5 subordinates were also well equipped, and opened one of the side doors of the tram.
Garcia jumped down onto the track and took a few steps forward towards the desert. Then he turned to his men and motioned while speaking to them through the suit's transmitter. "Everyone down, security perimeter. Wells, you and that damn machine come down next."
The entire team descended, including the cleanup unit managed by Agent Wells, and soon found themselves in the middle of the desert, surrounded by thunderous wind and clouds of sand. They could barely stand or see anything, and tried to protect themselves behind the gravitational machine. The only thing that allowed them to know where they were going was the laser global positioning device that García handled, and which revealed the direction of the target's coordinates.
About half an hour later the entrance to the Doldrums cave system appeared on a nearby promontory, and the team quickly took refuge inside. They went deep enough until they could no longer feel the wind and the gusts of sand, and they began to take off their suits. The agents took down the equipment drawers from the cleaning unit and opened them. Each one took an assault rifle, with a built-in silencer and holographic sight, and they dressed in ballistic vests over their black tactical jumpsuits. Finally they put on the night vision full helmets. From the rest of the drawers they took out various scientific devices that Agents Mackintosh and Dominguez loaded into their backpack.
Luke checked the helmet's built-in communications. "Testing, testing... Do you all hear me?" The rest raised their thumbs in approval. "Good. Okay guys, you already know the action plan, but let's summarize it." He took out a holographic projector from his pocket and activated it, causing a three-dimensional image of the cave system to appear in suspension. "From what we know thanks to Agent Schroeder's information, this entrance to the Doldrums system is slightly away from the settlement, so it's not usually visited by anyone, especially at this hour." He pointed to an area on the map. "We'll advance to the colony and enter the Amber Citadel through a small passage that must be in this area. Once there our objective is to infiltrate the heretics' complex and reach the relic to secure it."
Agent Ellis intervened. "How many hostiles do we expect, boss? Is there any new info?"
Garcia shook his head. "Nothing new, indeterminate. We know that in the settlement and in the outer areas of the complex there are patrols of some kind of security guards, who wear blue tunics. There will be several dozen, they vastly outnumber us, so we should not confront them." He smiled confidently. "Nevertheless, we know their patrol routes, thanks be to Deux and Schroeder's information. We can avoid them without problem." Luke's face twisted in concern. "However, once inside the complex we'll have to face the inner guard that protects the leader of these impious heretics. They never seem to leave his side and are well armed, so we've free rein to eliminate them if necessary." He looked over the faces of his men. "Anything else? No? Good. Go ahead, and remember that Deux protects."
The team advanced towards the darkness of the tunnels, guided by the holographic projection, and in less than an hour they reached the edges of the settlement. The streets were practically empty at that time of night, and fortunately quite poorly lit, although some distant singing could be heard, coming from some decrepit houses. The agents moved carefully between the buildings, covering each other, and remaining hidden and silent at the moments when a human silhouette was seen in the distance. On one occasion they were able to see an armed patrol of about fifteen men dressed in blue tunics passing in front of them, but since they knew their route, they weren't located.
As they slowly moved forward, Luke couldn't help but remember about how they had managed to get there. His plan so far had been a success. Although it was the first time he was in command of an operation, he couldn't complain about the results. For some time his and his small team had thoroughly investigated the main settlements of Pygar, but no information had turned up that would lead them to find out where that relic could be. In the end, although Director Orlov had demanded maximum discretion, he had no choice but to include and infiltrate more agents in other minor settlements. Finally, one of them, Agent Schroeder, had finally raised the alarm from a remote settlement in an abandoned region of Pygar, the Doldrums.
Something was happening there. García had never heard of that settlement, which from what Schroeder said had been just a miserable village until a few months ago. However, currently it had become a kind of pilgrimage center from many places on the planet, and even from outside. Sick or crippled people came like an incessant trickle and stayed in the filthy accommodations of the small colony, or even built shacks with scrap metal. Some groups of other, very different people, were also arriving, carrying scientific equipment. The streets were full of mendicants and vagabonds wandering around, seeking salvation, while groups of white-robed cultists had begun to appear, dancing and singing heretical proclamations. People talked constantly in the streets and in the horrible bars of the settlement, and one word was constantly repeated: The Amber Citadel. It was evident that they had finally found the relic.
Many people were approaching the white-clad cultists, who offered salvation and miracles to "those who were worthy," and attempted to recruit them as acolytes. Agent Schroeder had managed to contact someone who served as a source of information, a man named Arthur. That guy had come there on his own, looking for answers about the artifact, and he seemed to have gotten close enough to those preachers to be able to obtain information about exactly where the relic was.
However, that poor man had been discovered by the heretics, and Schroeder had never heard from him again. Fortunately, Arthur had been able to give him a notebook full of very interesting notes before being captured. It detailed the location of a kind of impious sanctuary called The Amber Citadel, several galleries below the settlement, in which the cultists had their headquarters. The relic that now they had to recover was also placed there. They didn't know exactly what it was like, apparently Arthur had never seen it in person or at least he hadn't reflected it in his notes. However, they would do everything possible to get it out of there and take to the Faith Haven scientific facilities.
The tactical team reached the marked entry point to the cultist's complex. It was one of the old service shafts, abandoned and with the protective grille damaged, just as Luke had been informed. Through it, the six men soon found themselves in an area of individual cells, that seemed ready to house the aspiring acolytes. The hallways were dark, but the agents had their night vision devices, and they also knew where they had to go. With great care they entered one of the cells, now empty. The place was as miserable as what they had seen in the rest of the settlement. The only furniture there was was a filthy mat on the floor, a blackened tapestry on the wall, and a stinking tin bucket in the corner.
"It's here." Luke barely whispered into his helmet transmitter and pointed to the tapestry. "Dominguez, remove it, now."
The agent moved the piece of cloth while his colleagues pointed their guns, revealing a fairly large crack that went into the rock. They barely fit sideways through the hole, and they had to take off their backpacks and pass them through little by little. Luke led the way as they trudged through the crevasse, descending lower and lower, until finally the walls widened and they could regroup.
An amber light filtered through the exit of the crack, and when they looked out they found themselves in a kind of garden with a throne in the middle. Sitting on it was a man, dressed in a black robe. With his eyes closed, he seemed to be sleeping, although the tubes that were inserted through his nostrils, showed that he was in full chemical trance. In front of him, ten red-robed cultists stood with heads bowed in prayer. The atmosphere was tremendously silent, and was only altered by the mechanical sound of the pump that breathed Cardamina to the man on the throne, and by the barely audible murmurs of the men in red, who whispered their heretical mantras.
Thanks to the information that Schroeder had given them, Luke knew that those guys belonged to the inner guard of the cultist leader, or as they called him, the Reverend. He also knew that they carried weapons under their robes. After observing the situation for a few seconds, he realized that they were performing some type of ritual, and were not expecting an attack from that side. The best option they had was to kill them all as quickly as possible, and before they could request reinforcements from other wings of the complex, or even from the settlement itself. He raised his left arm and motioned for his men to prepare for a blitz assault, watching as they took up firing positions along the edge of the crack, dividing up their targets. When everyone was ready, Garcia pulled a flash grenade from his belt and threw it into the center of the room, and pointed his rifle at one of the cultists.
The guards in red were caught by surprise. The grenade exploded in a silent but tremendously bright glow that completely illuminated the room, blinding most of them. In the next few seconds six of them received two shots to the chest and one to the head, collapsing to the ground. However, the other four reacted much faster than imagined and threw themselves to the ground, rolling and drawing their weapons. The PSI agents concentrated fire from the edge of the crevice toward them, but the heretics returned the shots with several automatic pistols. Two of them had managed to take cover behind a thick column, and the other two were hiding behind a metal sideboard, taking out their weapons and firing rounds at their attackers.
The leader of the cultists opened his eyes tearing the tubes out of his nostrils. "What is this?" He stood up, staggering, in the middle of a small orange cloud and looking around confused. "The demons attack us! Guards! Guar...!" Three shots pierced his chest, sitting him back on the throne. The Reverend began to squirm, as blood poured out of his mouth.
García was firing bullet after bullet, but he was starting to worry. The seconds were passing and they were not being able to finish the guards off. He knew very well that probably that shooting was being heard even in the settlement, and it was a matter of time before more cultists came to help their companions. If there were too many of them, things would get completely messed up, and they would have to retreat. He soon understood that from his position neither he nor his men had a clear angle to end the shootout quickly, their enemies were well barricaded just in front of them. While changing the magazine of his weapon scanned the room at a glance, anxious, and his gaze stopped at the throne, on which the Reverend writhed, throwing up blood and clutching his serious wounds. Now he saw it clearly, he had to advance to the throne! If he took cover from there he could flank the cultists and force them out of cover.
Luke stood up. "Cover me, I'm going to move forward!" He quickly signaled to his team so they would understand his maneuver. "Burst fire, now!"
Garcia jumped over the edge of the crack and landed on the artificial grass floor, listening the staccato tapping of his men's rifles. He noticed several bullets whizzing by his head as he ran towards the throne, and dove behind it taking cover. He looked out with his gun ready and immediately noticed that the cultists stopped firing at him. They continued opening fire on his men, but looked toward his position, undecided, fearing to hit their wounded leader. Luke didn't hesitate and began shooting at the cultists in the column, whose flank was exposed at his angle. He took down both of them with accurate shots, and then tried to run towards the cover they had left free to flank the two who were hiding behind the metal furniture.
Luke felt several impacts on his vest during his sprint and a sharp puncture in his right thigh when he reached to the column. He leaned against it while replacing the magazine again, and ignored the the waves of pain throbbing in his leg. He knew he was injured, but now he didn't have time to think about it. He peeked over the side and watched as Wells and Dominguez jumped through the crack, covered by the bursts of Yang, Ellis and Mackintosh. One of the cultists stood up, shouting heretical proclamations, and discharged his automatic pistol at the two agents. Dominguez was knocked down by several impacts, but Wells returned the fire, hitting the guard in the head and killing him instantly. Luke took advantage of the distraction to break out of cover and finish off the remaining cultist.
Yang, Ellis and Mackintosh spread around the room while Wells tended to Dominguez, and Luke pointed towards the door leading to the room."Take positions!" He then checked and palpated his body, but found no injuries other than his thigh. Fortunately it seemed merely superficial, so he just extracted a syringe with a military-grade astringent analgesic and injected into his leg.
Dominguez seemed fine, although somewhat disoriented, and stood up helped by Wells. When Luke walked towards them he saw that the agent's helmet had a large mark on the side, and a piece of the visor's glass-steel had been torn off. Part of his face could be seen through the hole, with some minor bloody cuts caused by shrapnel. He shook his head and gave a thumbs up. "I'm okay, boss, don't worry. That bastard almost caught me... but today is not the day."
Wells approached the throne and examined the Reverend, who still struggled trying to breathe. "He's screwed, boss, but it will take him a while to die." He looked at Luke with an evil smile. "I suggest we let him drown in his own blood like the heretical bastard he is."
Garcia raised his gun and shot the cultist leader twice in the head. He then looked sternly at his subordinate. "Deux commands us to be merciful to our human brothers, Wells. Just because they've lost their souls doesn't mean they should suffer. Eternal Nothingness awaits them, that's punishment enough." He pointed towards the access door, where Agents Mackintosh, Ellis and Yang were already in position. "Now, clear the hallway!"
Yang opened the door and threw another flash grenade. The 6 men advanced down the hallway in formation, and eliminated another four red-robed guards who emerged confused from side rooms with pistols in their hands. Finally they reached the end of the hallway where there was a small intersection. Luke saw in his left the ornated door of what was called by the heretics as the Holy Room. That was where the relic was supposed to be, but they had to secure the area first. Luke also knew that the other door at the end of the corridor communicated with the rest of the complex, and beyond, with the outside. And more enemies could come from outside. In fact, some distant shouts could be heard, calling to arms.
"Wells, seal that door with the welder, and Yang, cover him." Luke made a circular movement with his hand. "The rest with me."
The agents stormed the entrance to the Holy Room. The distinctly alien-looking relic was placed on a pedestal, emitting a faint violet light around it. There was a rarefied atmosphere and a strange vibration shook the air, and within a few moments, all the members of the team felt a disgusting, uncomfortable... unholy sensation. It was striking how big it was, they really hadn't expected that size, about three meters high, two meters wide. It also looked pretty solid. This was going to weigh a lot.
García ordered Mackintosh and Dominguez to remove the scanners and cameras from their backpacks and set them up around the relic. "I want a preliminary analysis of this thing and a holographic model to send to the Director immediately! Look to see the energy levels it emits and if it's releasing any type of harmful radiation." Then he left the room, immediately grateful to be away from the exposure to that artifact.
Agent Ellis approached him from behind, rising the visor of his helmet."Uh, boss? We've the relic. And now?"
Luke responded as he took out his communicator, to call Director Orlov. "The orders are to take it home, you know well."
Ellis smiled with some disbelief. "Oh yes, I know, boss, but..." The agent pointed towards the Holy Room. "Have you seen the size of that thing? How are the six of us supposed to get it out of here through this damned settlement full of heretics?"
Luke shrugged his shoulders, and for the first time let a shadow of doubt appear in his eyes. "Honestly, I've no idea. So I hope the Director comes up with something, and quickly. Otherwise, we'll have to destroy it."
Avensis Blaine, also known as Chillworth, had been assigned the Militia Commander by Voncloud when the force was hastily put together. He was sat with a squad of militiamen inside a personnel transport that had been converted for use as an APC. As it trundled through the caves Chillworth's communicator started to chime.
"This is Blaine"
"Chillworth, its Voncloud. I need you and your men to redirect to the coordinates i just sent to your neural Net"
Chillworth's pad again chimed upon receiving the information, he glanced at it before looking back to the communication window.
"These send us towards the Doldrums?"
Voncloud was seen nodding on the image "Indeed, i just had a chat with Magister Orlov of the NCC. Seems we were not the only ones looking into all of the hubbub. What his men found however, is nothing like what i was expecting. They discovered a settlement within the Doldrum's which was playing host to nothing short of a cult. Further underneath this settlement is an Artefact which this Cult have built their headquarters around, what it is or does is still being investigated. Now Orlov's men have taken out the Cult leadership and currently are on over watch with the Artefact however whatever this thing is its to large for them to extract, so i need the Militia to move in to secure the Settlement so we can prep the Artefact for removal and to evacuate those who have taken up residence to Central[b](The name of the Main Pygar Settlement). I will arrange for a cargo hauler transport and medical to head for the Doldrum's."[/b]
At the outskirts of the Doldrums settlement, 2 of the Militia APC's had set up out of sight with 4 squads stood by them facing Chillworth.
"Alright, listen up. Our order's are to head into this settlement and secure it so the recovery teams can move in safely to evacuate civilians and the Artefact. I do not have exact numbers but there are security patrols still in operation and they are our targets. They are lightly armed and armoured wearing a distinctive blue attire, so there shouldn't be any excuses for friendly fire here. The NCC have been kind enough to give us the known patrol routes of these guys, so we will be using ambush tactics, each squad will have your designated patrols. If you Must engage a civilian they are to be neutralised by non lethal means. Once the settlement is under our control Beta Squad will join up with the NCC guys down below? Any questions? no? Good. Lets go"
The Squads give a salute before gearing up ready to head in, Chillworth indicated to his squad to follow once ready. He and his men head through the entrance first breaking off left as the other 3 squads head through, each one breaking off towards their given directions. Despite the settlement being essentially a shanty town, it offered a surprising amount of cover for the Militia who weaved through the makeshift alleyways between the buildings though the lack of experience and the haphazard training some of the Militia had taken in a rush caused some to trip or stumble trying to keep up the pace. After a few minuets of moving Chillworth indicated the squad to stop. Ahead of them was a group of the settlers, mostly sat or laid on the ground some using cast of fabrics to shield from the dirt and dust. Chillworth turned to his squad to whisper the plan but was cut off by a voice above them. “You Shouldn't be here! Unbelievers! Unbelievers!” A settler was leaning out of a window from one of the tin pot homes opposite the wall the squad had stopped by. Without pause but with panic a squad member opened fire with the silenced side arm towards the window. Despite missing the target, hitting the metal wall to the side, the settler screamed out when they ducked for cover. “Dammit what are you doing?!” Chillworth scoulded, the sound of voices growing loud from around the corner. “Stand ready” Called Chillworth he and the squad standing with Weapons raised “Do not fire on the civilians, only on the armed guards”
Within moments the settlers they had spotted earlier rounded the corner though their charge was stopped upon seeing the armed and armoured squad. Chillworth lowered his weapon, standing up straight with his hands visible“We mean you no harm, we have come to help and offer aid to the people who reside here”He motions to the squad to lower their weapons as The group before him began to speak amongst themselves“We have transports and crew coming that will look after you and take you to Central” They continued to talk amongst themselves as the team noted how dishevelled a fair few of the residents were. Before long a women walks forwards “We would like to leave this place, your certain you can help us?” she asked, Chillworth nods his head “Of Course. If you can make it outside the town limits, I have members of the Militia set up waiting, they will protect you until help arrives”
The Women nods before she and the group turn heading into their respective residents to gather what belongings they had. Chillworth indicates for his squad to continue moving forward. Following the pathways the sound of distance shouting starts to fill the town before weapons fire joins it. Chillworths communicator chimes, followed by a distressed voice. “This is Delta team! We need assistance! Grid 5C! Over!” “This is Blaine, all squads converge on Delta's position!” He looks to his squad“So much for the ambush idea” he mused annoyed. With Haste Chillworth and his team make their way towards Delta, the buildings started to spread out as the sounds of conflict become louder. As they approach its clear that they were entering a town square or market place. A wide enough open space for people to gather. Amongst the chaos, residents were either fleeing, looking for cover, or picking up stones and debris to throw at the besieged Delta team. The Aggression of the Residents and subsequent noise had alerted the armed guards who were filtering into the area, taking pot shots at the team with reckless abandon, the body's of residents caught in the cross fire dotted around the square.
“Do not fire on anyone who isn't armed, DO not fire if you do not have a clear shot! Got it?”
The squad replied in unison “Got it!”
With the element of surprise well and truly gone, the Militia arm their Carbines and venture into the square, following a two by two tactic, a pair move forward as the other renders covering fire. As the battle begins to intensify the residents who had been throwing debris at Delta began to run for cover. This sudden rush of people made it difficult for the Militia to keep fire on the Cult Guards and avoid Civilian casualties. Whilst moving into position members of Beta Squad are knocked down by the sudden wave of fleeing people breaking the squads cohesion and adding to the chaos.
With the Central square slowly emptying of innocent targets the Militia begin to rally, managing to find suitable cover and marking their targets. It became clear that the Cult Guards were more 'people with guns' then trained soldiers compared to the Militia. Once the squads begun to coordinate, the guards start to fall in quick succession. As Chillworth and his men continued to gain ground some of the guard started to come forward and surrender whilst others continued to fight. Eventually the Militia manage to neutralise the last of the guard, they celebrate their first real action being mostly a success as they escort Civilians and Captives alike to the Towns Entrance.
With the last few Residents of the Settlement heading towards the APC's a convoy made up of Transports roll up, hissing as their engines shut off and the gear takes the weight. With the Transports a pair of smaller medical Relief vehicles park themselves by the APCs. As they settle on the ground awnings deploy sideways to cover the Door's as medical staff begin to filter out.
Some of the Militia head to the Medical teams to gather blankets water and other aid to dish out to the settlers who were waiting whilst the rest speak with those who were willing.
A few minutes after the convoy a Cargo hauler with an attached power loader trundles its way towards the towns entrance. Its passenger door opens as it slows to a stop, Voncloud hopping out as it comes to a halt. As Chillworth walks over Voncloud spots him walking to meet him.
“So, all was a success then?” He asks as he looked around. Chillworth nodded in kind “Yeah, all things considered, they were up to task and the Town is secure” Voncloud chuckled as he looks at the vehicles that are arrived “Well thank god for that, getting this stuff down here was an utter ball ache. So at least it was worth it eh?” He smiled patting Chillworths shoulder“In all seriousness, you did good. Seems you kept your men Safe, and you managed to take the town” “The trainings paid off so far, experience is all we really lack” He looks over to the Militia members“I'm proud of them” He turns back to Voncloud “Beta Team are at the entrance to this 'Amber Citadel' waiting on you and the loader”
Voncloud Pats the side of the hauler “Alright then, Lets move out! Time to see what this 'Artifact' is
Garcia was stationed in the hallway with Ellis and Dominguez behind some makeshift barricades, aiming his rifle at the welded door. From his position he could see the explosive traps that his men had placed on the threshold, just in case the heretics managed to get through. Until now they had been talking to each other in low voices, listening to the intense firefight taking place in the settlement, but Luke had made a sudden gesture with his hand and they had fallen into complete silence. He had heard footsteps coming from the other side of the door, approaching.
Luke activated his helmet transmitter and whispered. "Blue, possible imminent contact at our position. Everything okay there?"
García heard Yang's voice, almost imperceptible, from his position in the throne room. "Blue here, everything calm, Red. Need support?"
"Negative, Blue, hold your position. Everyone alert." García removed the safety of his weapon and checked the slide, while remembering what had happened in the previous hours.
Once the tactical team had taken control of the heart of the Citadel, sealed the access door and locked themselves there with the relic, the cultists had not sat idly by. They had immediately crowded on the other side, shouting and howling with rage, trying to get in. The six PSI agents had barricaded the hallway with furniture as best they could, and then they had divided into two groups, one to defend the main entrance, and the other to guard the crack through which they had entered. They didn't know if the cultists knew about that path, hopefully not since it hadn't been guarded, but Garcia knew that in the field of operations you could never make too many assumptions without dying from them.
During several hours a few enemies were gathered on the other side of the door, and the agents had heard them banging with some blunt object, trying to open it. However, it was a thick metal door, which opened by sliding from top to bottom. Once it was carefully welded, the only way to get in would have been to blow it up, or cut the welding. Luke had feared the cultists might have explosives or some cutting device, but it seemed that wasn't the case and until now they had not been able to access.
The sounds of gunfire outside had begun around dawn. The agents had heard the first shots and immediately heard movement on the other side of the door. The heretics were retreating towards the settlement, probably to defend it from the attacking troops. Garcia knew, thanks to what Orlov had told him in his last communication, that these were the Militia troops of the Pygar Administration, who had finally arrived to bring order and peace.
Luke supposed that it had not been an easy decision for the Director to have to inform Administrator Voncloud of the operation, because it meant losing control of the artifact, but he really had had no choice. García had assured him that it was impossible for the six of them to extract the artifact from the settlement due to its size. The tactical team had managed to reach it and take control, but they couldn't move it on their own. Throughout their call, Orlov had even been considering the possibility of informing His Holiness of the entire operation and ask him for a platoon of Pontifical Guards to assault the settlement. Given the situation, the Pontiff would not deny him, and even he would get a good dressing down for hiding the investigation, they could probably get their hands on the relic.
However, he had ended up ruling it out, because forty or fifty Guards launching a frontal assault with light reconnaissance vehicles wouldn't be exactly discreet, and probably soon it would be known throughout Pygar. Acting with that number of troops on another settlement without the express permission of Jerard Voncloud could be understood as a challenge to his authority, and the Director couldn't allow that. The Church simply couldn't risk losing relations with such a necessary ally. Actually, just the fact that he had sent a covert tactical team could be seen in the same way, although Orlov hoped that Voncloud would see it more as a proof of the NCC's commitment in helping to maintain security on the planet. He had therefore resigned herself to call Administrator Voncloud and ask for help, hoping that he might perhaps appreciate her gesture and allow NCC scientists to participate in a possible study of the relic.
Garcia heard clearly this time the sound of footsteps by the door, footsteps produced by at least two dozen feet. He looked at his men, who nodded, and watched as Ellis grabbed the detonator for the booby traps. He then hunched over the barricade and tensed his finger on the trigger. However, there was only some light hits on the door, as if someone was knocking.
"Pygar Militia! Open the door!" The voice had the tone of someone who was used to being obeyed. "The complex is clear!"
"Okay, we'll open it! I ask you for a little patience!" Luke spoke quietly through the communicator again. "Blue, move to my position, now." Then he stood up and approached to Dominguez, gesturing towards the door. "Get the plasma cutter and open it, quickly"
When the agent was finally able to unlock it, the door was opened from the outside, and the 6 agents waited in front of the threshold, in open formation. Their rifles were pointed toward the ground, but their hands were still on the grips, ready to raise them and open fire if necessary. About twenty men armed with carbines entered, fanning out down the hallway, and Garcia checked that their uniforms matched the one the Pygar Militia wore. The militiamen pointed their weapons at them.
Luke raised his hands. "Hands off guns, boys, they're the good ones." Then he spoke the soldiers. "I'm Agent Luke García of the Pontifical Service of Intelligence. I work for the New Covenant Church. I want to talk to whoever is in charge."
"Beta Team, put the weapons down!" The same authoritative voice they had heard before echoed in the hallway, and the militiamen lowered their carbines.
The soldiers moved aside to let two men pass who stood behind. One of them, dressed in a uniform similar to that worn by the Militia men, addressed Garcia. "I'm Marshal Blaine, commander of the Militia. I'm glad to find you healthy and safe." He moved his hand to the side to introduce his companion, a blond man in a pilot's jacket, high boots and sunglasses. "And here, Administrator Voncloud."
"Good morning." Voncloud smiled behind his dark glasses. "I think you need my help."
The agents stood at attention as a sign of respect, although they didn't salute since they weren't military personnel. Then Garcia took off his helmet and walked forward to address the Administrator. "Nice to meet you sir. I'm happy you're here, and I thank you for the speed in coming. I came to think that we would have to withdraw and blow up that thing and all this place." He pointed towards the door of the Holy Room. "The artifact is in there, in that kind of impious chapel. From what we know, their rituals were carried out in it, in which the cultists exposed their acolytes to some type of unknown radiation that the relic seems to emanate when activated." Luke walked over to the heavy ornate door and pushed it open, so the others could see into the room. He made a gesture with his hand involving the relic and the scientific devices that the agents had placed around it. " We've done a superficial analysis of it, and right now it seems off. However it still emits that glow. It returns certain radiation readings despite its inactive state, but at the moment they're harmless, although unpleasant. We've no idea how to activate it, and of course we haven't tried it either."
Garcia turned to his men. "Dominguez, Mackintosh, pick up the equipment." Then he looked back to Voncloud while the agents entered the Holy Room."My orders from Magister Orlov are to immediately place the relic at your disposal, so it's all yours, sir." He pointed back with his thumb. "I hope you brought something to transport it out of here, this thing is big and heavy. We tried it between the six of us and it was impossible to move it, not even an inch."
The tactical team dismantled the bobby traps and removed the explosive charges that had been placed in the relic. Then gathered their things and prepared to leave the Amber Citadel. They walked through the halls of the complex, climbing many flights of stairs and nodding to the militiamen they encountered. Voncloud's troops were everywhere, and they were searching the place, still clearing some of the rooms. Luke made sure that at all times he and his men had their rifles visible and slung over their shoulders, in the least threatening position possible. The last thing he wanted was for some distracted soldier to shoot them by mistake.
Finally they reached the outer gate, which was at the height of the settlement, and they went out into it. The agents moved away and sat near the rubble of what had been a cabin hastily put together from scrap metal, taking off their helmets and leaving their backpacks on the ground. Luke watched as several platoons of militiamen patrolled the surroundings. They were searching the corpses of the cultist guards that were scattered throughout the poorly lit streets, and securing their fallen weapons. Many of these soldiers looked young, but they were well armed and seemed to take their jobs very seriously. He saw smiles on the faces of some of them, probably happy that his first performance had ended in success. Garcia took out his communication device and called Orlov.
The Director's calm voice rang on the other side immediately. "Report, Garcia."
Luke cleared his throat slightly before speaking. "Your Eminence, I'm calling from outside the heretic complex. Administration's Militia has taken control of the entire settlement, and we've just given them the artifact." He took a look around. "The cultists have been defeated and the civilian population seems to have been evacuated."
"Was Administrator Voncloud there?"
The agent nodded his head, even though the Director couldn't see him. "Yes, Your Eminence. We hand over possession of the artifact directly to him, as you specified."
"Good, Garcia, good job. Deux's will has been fulfilled, congratulate your men for me." Listening to his tone, Orlov seemed satisfied, although Luke had learned that with him you could never be sure of anything. "Now listen to me carefully. The artifact is going to be moved to Central, Administrator Voncloud has taken transports there to load it. Your new orders are to join that convoy and accompany the Militia to their destination. Keep an eye on that unholy thing until it's in Central, under custody."
"Understood." Garcia hesitated for a moment, and then asked. "Do you expect any problems, Your Eminence?"
The Director's voice sounded slightly exasperated. "One never knows. Accomplish with your orders, agent, and Deux be with you." Communication was cut off.
Luke pocketed his device and informed the rest of the team of their new mission. His men nodded silently, and began to check their weapons and equipment. Garcia knew they were tired after all the action last night, and the tense wait, but he also knew he could squeeze a little more out of them. They were well-trained and motivated agents, and in this operation they had shown him what they were capable of.
He pointed to the door of the complex "We've time until Voncloud and his men can get the relic outside and load it. Take advantage of it to rest as much as you can, I want you fully alert later."
Garcia took a few steps away to give his subordinates space. He removed his holographic device from his vest to study the interactive map of possible routes the convoy could follow until reaching Central. While he was watching him carefully, he noticed someone approaching him, and raised his head. It was a middle aged man dressed in a militiaman's uniform, with his carbine slung over his shoulder and his helmet hanging from his belt.
The man saluted militarily. "Are you the commander of the NCC team?" Luke nodded. "Oh, great then, sir. You see, we have an injured civilian in one of our field hospitals, who has repeatedly asked about the NCC."
Garcia immediately thought about Agent Schroeder. Maybe he had not managed to get out of the settlement in time. "Is he an older man, with gray hair and a beard?"
The soldier shook his head. "No, sir, he's relatively young. It seems that those crazy people almost beat him to death, but the docs say that he will survive. He says his name is Arthur."
Luke raised an eyebrow in surprise. Arthur. That name was that of Schroeder's informant who disappeared when he was captured. He hadn't expected to find him alive, but it really might be interesting to question him. He might have some more clues to what the cult had been doing there that he hadn't left written in his notebook, or perhaps something about the workings of the artifact. Surely the Director would appreciate all the information that could be obtained in this regard.
Garcia turned to his men and shouted an order. "Mackintosh, come with me!" Then he smiled at the militiaman. "Take me to Mr. Arthur immediately, please."