20060221

The Fall From Grace

Urai took a moment to double check the melta-charge he had just placed. If he did not leave enough time he and his team would never have enough time to clear out of the Orlock factory tower. This particular factory was unique in that it actually jutted out from the hive walls several hundred meters – an estimated kilometer above the ash wastes. The Orlocks believed it to be easily defensible but in reality it only made it more vulnerable. With only one main tunnel in and out of the tower the Orlocks in charge of running the factory were sitting ducks for his ‘hit team’.

When he had gotten called before the Delaque “territorial dispute” council he had no idea it would be for such a mission. It was not entirely unheard of for such a green operative to be handed a mission such as this, but he had felt uneasy the way he was reassured about getting all the resources he and his team would need. After all, "green" team leaders often did not return for one thing, and another they were rarely seen as worthy wasting resources for. He was of House Delaque, but in this instance their own reputation also played against his fears. House Delaque is well known for their intrigue and espionage abilities – not to mention being renowned as double-talkers. And this mission had set-up written all over it. But to defy the elders of the house was a guaranteed death sentence. At least this way he could go out on his own terms.

A quick vox-check with the rest of the team and they were all set and ready to E&E – only thing left to do was to ensure that the intended target got into the kill zone. “Zack, you get clear. I am going to keep Smog, Bulger, Sanyo, and Snake with me. Take the rest back across. No need for all of us to get caught in the likely counter strike.”

“Check boss. I’ll give the Elders your regards.”

Urai could almost hear the smile on Zack’s face. In the months of preparations Urai and Zack had made plans to ensure as many of the twenty men assigned to this mission made it out alive as possible. Just because he had drawn the short straw with those on high did not mean that Zack and his boys could not go on to glory in service of their house.

“Um, Boss.” It was Smog. “Check your counters. I just set the countdown clock for fifteen minutes but when I started the timer it immediately reset to five, and it’s not letting back into the setup menu.”

Urai turned back to his meltabomb and sure enough. It was reading four minutes and change. Frantically he tried to re-initiate the countdown timer, or override it altogether. No chance. It was not accepting any key codes.

“Zack, and all ‘Smoke’ members listen up! We’ve been sold out. Everyone E&E and don’t look back! We’ve got 3 minutes to clear the kill zone or we all go down!”

No time to think it through now. His only thoughts needed to focus on escape. Urai was clear of his ventilation shaft and running as fast as his legs could take him across the catwalks. Up ahead he saw the rest of those designated to stay behind with him all converging on his catwalk. Just then distant sounds of muffled explosions were heard and it felt like their entire world shook. Everyone had to stop and keep themselves from falling over the edge. He checked his chronometer – they still had 2 minutes. His team exchanged nervous glances – someone else was in on this symphony. Without a word they all began scrambling towards a small door leading into what was an old maintenance tunnel.

They would not make into the connecting passages that led back to the main hive before their demolitions went off, but it shouldn’t matter, they could still be clear of the blast zone.

As Urai cleared a small door a deep metallic moaning could be heard and felt throughout the area. His mind immediately froze trying to figure out what the sound was and what it meant but before his mind could sort it out the muffled ‘whumps’ of his own demolition charges going off were felt. It was like the wakening call of some unseen beast as the groaning immediately grew to deafening proportions and Urai and his team had to hold on for dear life. They felt like the whole world has started to fall.
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Josam looked up into the sky. Out in the wastes it was not unheard of to hear the sonic boom of some aircraft flying above the toxic clouds that encompassed Necromunda, but this was no sonic boom – and it did not abate. If anything it was growing louder.

Instincts took over. A man could not hesitate and survive long among the toxic wastes that lay across the planet. Ishik had gotten one of his band’s buggies started and was gathering up as many that could hang on to the roll cage. Josam threw his long rifle over the sword scabbard he always wore across his back and jumped on for dear life.

The metallic screams of something massive overhead was growing and Josam looked skyward once more. Whatever it was blocked what light he was used to seeing and seemed to be growing larger.

“Kick it! Come on! Get this thing moving!” was all Urartu could get out as he screamed at the driver who had a determined grimace look in his eyes. Josam could hear a growing growl through the man’s respirator and visor that everyone needed to survive out in the open.

Ishik had the poor little machine at it’s full capacity racing across the dunes. When it cleared a dune Ishik had to cut it a hard left to avoid an almost undetectable sink hole causing two of his riders to fall. “Keep going! Don’t stop!” Urartu shouted.

As the buggy and its four passengers cleared another dune whatever it was impacted the dunes with a shudder that shook the ground and caused a mini ash storm to kick up and race away from its landing. The resulting gale picked up the car and tossed it like a child’s toy spilling the men across the landscape.
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Urai could tell he was still alive, after all – anyone in this much pain could not possible be dead. There was dust everywhere and the lights, now flickering, where barely discernable through the haze. Coughing could be heard from some one other than himself so he knew he was not alone in his misery. It took some time for his head to clear but when it did he took the time to raise it up to try and figure out what had happened.

About this time the rest of his team was stirring as well. Other than bumps and bruises they seemed to be ok. The air was thick with dust and it was slowly becoming apparent that the catwalk was now a twisted ribbon. Wires and vents were down all over the place. By the looks of the catwalk it was now impossible to return to the hive in that direction. But if they had survived there must be other survivors as well.
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Josam could hear Urartu calling out for survivors. He took stock. No broken bones, and more importantly his respirator stayed in place and was functioning properly. His sword (an oddity among the ash wastes nomads of Necromunda) was firmly in its sheath, and a function check of his long rifle showed it to be in good order. Picking himself up he headed towards his leader's call. Josam found Urartu next to what was left of the little dune buggy. The frame was twisted in such a way that there was no way it would ever get four wheels on the ground again. Around the wreckage stood Urartu, An-Nur another Nomad such as himself, and Ishik a Nomad ‘Heavy’.

“Where’s everybody else,” An-Nur asked.

“We’re it,” Urartu replied. “The heavy Stubber’s out,” he said pointing towards the wreckage, “and I’ve already checked a few meters out. An-Shee, and Golu are dead.” Tossing a lasgun at Ishik, “Golu’s not gonna need this anymore.”

Urartu looked around and sighed. He was a powerful clan leader among the Nomads of Necromunda but he was stripped of his band. All that is left were the four Nomads that stood in the howling winds. Without another word they headed back towards whatever it was that had caused their band to come to ruin.
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Torrick Catallus looked down into the wastes below. A few more meters and he would have plummeted with the factory tower now laying in the wastes a kilometer below. Normally one of his privileged status would never be found this far downhive, but when a contract with one of the lower houses needed to get closed his father always sent one of his sons to see to it personally.

The klaxons were sounding behind him. “Sir, you must step back into the protection of the hive.” His servants dared not touch him personally, but he could tell they were pleading with him to retreat back into the safety of hive walls.

Was it an assassination attempt, or merely a sabotage between rival house factions of the Hive City? It didn’t matter either way. His father’s spies would be working the networks to determine the truth. As for the contract, there are always others among the billions who lived within Hive:Palentine.

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