Evolution

For three years, ever since his mother’s death, Logan longed for this day. Every day was a battle to survive. Sure Lusion protected him, but he had responsibilities to the Couriers and was often gone for long periods of time. The taunting and isolation never ceased, and after Kyra’s death he only had Lusion to talk to. Today he would prove himself. Today he would become a man.

Lusion had left him to “live his own life” and Logan had been allowed to remain in the one room hab he had shared with his mother. Looking around the small five by seven meter room he could almost see ghost images of what it had once been like. The piles of dirty dishes and trash had long since been removed, but Logan often longed to see them again.

Logan shook of the feelings of regret and moved over to the wall that held the few cabinets he was afforded. On one counter top lay the knife Lusion had given him, which felt like a lifetime ago. Next to that were an inadequate set of lock picks, a small optical pocket telescope, and a palm sized data slate. Each of these he placed in separate pockets of his brand new trench coat, a ‘gift’ so he would reflect the House he was joining. As he did this he looked at himself in the hazy reflection of the metal cabinets. He still looked out of place. Unlike his Delaque ‘brothers’ he still did not wear their distinctive dark-lensed goggles, and he still sported a full head of hair – which he had pulled back into a ponytail.

There was only one more thing to complete his preparations. Pulling the only chair he had in the room over Logan climbed up so he could reach his most treasured possession. It was right where he left it. Pulling it down he looked at it affectionately as he ran his fingers gently over the surface. He had found it after his mother’s death, and it was all he had left of her. Gently he slipped it under his trench coat and secured it.

Stepping back down off of the chair he looked at his image once more. Once he was satisfied he turned on his heels and headed out to meet his fate.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

When Logan walked into the back room of the ‘Couriers’ gambling den he was ignored by everyone except Lusion. Other than his sponsor there were seven others. Kray, ‘the Couriers’ boss, almost appeared disgusted. The other six were three other juves and their respective sponsors.

“House Delaque is affording you a great opportunity, a chance to show your worth above just sweating out your lives in the factories or data broker shops.” The Delaque leader made eye contact with the other three juves before proceeding.

“Today you have each been assigned a task contained in these envelopes,” Kray paused long enough to hand the notes out. He made sure to hand Logan’s to Lusion instead of directly to him. “Each task works in conjunction with the other, but you are not to share with each other the specifics of your task. Cooperation is restricted to the limited contact you will have with the others.”

Each of the candidates looked around the room for further input. Lusion handed Logan his packet and encouraged him to open it up.

Logan felt along the edges of the envelope like he had been taught. Once he was satisfied there were no triggers he pulled out his knife and gingerly cut the envelope open. Turning it upside down he emptied the contents onto a nearby table. A small cartridge designed to fit into a standard Delaque data slate was sealed in a small plastic pouch, and a pile of powdered dust fell out.

Immediately looking up he saw Lusion nodding his head in approval. Logan could not help but smile at this small display of approval.

BANG! The small explosion that was mostly smoke and noise, but it got every one’s attention. One of the other juves was clutching his hand, a small burn mark showed that he had not been as cautious.

“Galcious, would you be so kind as to show your young protégé here to the medics?” was all Kray said until the juve and his sponsor left the room.

“House Delaque works hard to ensure her secrets do not fall into the wrong hands,” this time Kray looked straight at Logan. “It is not above us to booby-trap our own communiqués to ensure our secrets remain secrets.

“You have five days to complete your assigned tasks, and you are already a man short.” Kray turned around, pushed a concealed button on the wall behind him that opened up a small alcove. Contained within were several pistols.

“Our job is not without inherent danger. We work with a variety of tools, which you should already be acquainted with, but there are times when stealth and diplomacy needs to give way to good old fashioned brute force.” Their leader pulled three weapons from the cabinet and set them on the desk. He then invited the other two Delaque juves forward to choose. Once they were done he motioned for Logan to step forward, the first time the man even acknowledged Logan directly. The only weapon left was a semi-automatic handgun. Not a bad piece, but definitely not as useful as the las and auto pistol taken by the others. Logan nodded his thanks.

Logan looked over the weapon. It was in good shape, no rust and the slide operated smoothly and quietly. He dropped the magazine from the grip and inspected it. The magazine was fully loaded with thirteen rounds of ammunition. A function check of the weapon showed it to be in full working order.

“What are you waiting around here for?” Kray said indicating that the briefing was over and motioning for them all to leave. “You are not going to find what you are looking for here.”

Lusion escorted Logan a discreet distance from the building. “You have the skills Logan, if not the trust of Kray. The rest is up to you, you have learned everything you can from me. Don’t embarrass me.”

Logan just nodded his head and faded into the shadows.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

For the past ten hours Logan sat hunched in the shadows of an attic that overlooked his target. A small ventilation grill allowed him to look out, but restricted anyone’s view in. Now he just needed to figure a way in.

It had taken him the better part of a day to climb all the way up hive to the outskirts of Hive City. The Enforcer gates were easily by-passed through the usual Delaque pathways. Factoring in how long it took him to get in place that gave him only two days, check that, a day and a half now, to get what he needed and safely back.

Pulling out his data slate Logan reviewed his test objectives once more. 1) Gain access into Vant Labs within the Van Saar district. 2) Secure the name of at least one security guard. 3) Perform objectives 1 & 2 without detection and return without compromise.

“Those other Juves had it easy,” Logan thought to himself. “All they had to do was get me safely into Hive City and then escort me back. Meanwhile I am the one who has to penetrate Van Saar without getting caught.”

Logan quietly sighed to himself. No need to worry about that now, especially since his mark just left the labs.

Logan had already planned his path out and it only took a moment to get into the street before his mark could get away. Like himself this fellow was in his early teens, most likely not any older than fifteen. It would be his best shot at being able to gain a confidence.

An odd thing was this guy was always looking over his shoulder. Logan thought for sure he had been spotted, especially when the kid ducked into a loud drinking hole. It would be easy to loose a tail in there.

Instead of following him through the front door Logan set about marking all the possible exits at street level.

The main door was covered by a Van Saar the size of your typical Goliath. “Doubt I will be able to enter that way,” he thought to himself. To the right rear lay another door. This one concealed in shadow and was tempting, but Logan was confident that the second door would be covered by another security measure. Entrance would have to be garnered from either below or above. And it might be a good idea to change his appearance as his Delaque issued trench coat would probably not earn him any merits either.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-
Part 2

Logan could not afford to travel far. To do so would allow his mark to exit unnoticed. Fortunately that would not be a problem because just then an obviously drunk Van Saar exited the front door and made his way on down the street. Logan watched the man with interest.

Fortunately his intended victim did not go far. When he stumbled to the end of the building he practically fell into the alleyway that separated the drinking hole with a block of habs on the left. Logan stayed in the shadows as he moved to see down the length of the alley.

Twenty meters up the cramped space the drunk man was hunched over on all fours. Even from here Logan could hear what the man was doing. This was the opportunity he was looking for.

Logan made ground level at the opposite end of the alley from the street, and his target was right where he last saw him. He was careful, even though the man was in no condition to pay attention to anything else. When he came into reach of the man Logan waited until he had finished with his last dry heave. As the man caught his breath Logan drove the pommel of knife into the base of the man’s skull, and the drunken Van Saar immediately collapsed in a heap.

Looking up and down the alleyway Logan made sure he had not been spotted. Once he felt secure he quickly relieved the man of the body glove all Van Saar wore. ‘Very comfortable’, Logan thought to himself as he slipped it on and cleaned it up.

Leaving his victim to wake up to his misery Logan climbed back up to the roof of his destination. Once there he secured his distinctive Delaque garb, along with his heirloom, and moved straight to the side entrance. His mark had been inside the building for fifteen minutes already and Logan began to worry that he would lose him. So it was with boldness he stepped through the side entrance of the drinking hole.

To Logan’s relief there were no bouncers, or visible security measures, in place there. Slipping through the small entranceway there was a small hallway with 3 doors on either side. Just beyond the doors it opened up into what he presumed to be a common area as it was noisy, but there was a curtain impeding his view.

Deciding the best way to not draw attention to himself Logan walked in as if he belonged there and stepped into the room boldly. The place was not too packed and he quickly spotted his mark, located by himself, at an electronic gambling device mounted to the wall. Scrounging through the pockets of his new disguise Logan found a few coins. Plopping down onto the stool adjacent to the young Van Saar he plopped the first coin into the slot and pushed a button. Nothing, “wonder what this is all about” Logan thought to himself out loud.

“The trick is to vary how many coins you drop in each time,” the young Van Saar said. The unusual openness caught Logan off guard.

Logan mumbled his thanks and took the last two coins out of his pocket and repeated the process. When the spinning barrels slowed to a stop loud music started blaring and lights started flashing, which was exactly what Logan had hoped to avoid. Feigning great joy he looked around the bar thinking everyone would be looking his way, but in truth no more than a few even noticed his good fortune.

“Wow, thanks,” Logan said turning to the Van Saar juve. “Hey, listen… I hate to admit this, but in truth I was hoping you might help me, seeing as we are about the same age… You see, I desperately need a job. But this should help,” Logan said holding up the handful of tokens from the tray. “Do you know where a juve like myself could find a job?”

“What do you mean?” The kid looked nervous.

“Well, my dad was recently killed in the explosion over at the Avery Munitions Works,” Logan had read about it in a local paper while he was casing the Labs. “It was just the two of us so now I need to get work before I get put in the labor corps and sent to the underhive.” Logan hoped that a sob story would help gain the kid’s trust.

“I don’t know…” the Van Saar hesitated.

“Aw, come on. I don’t care what it is. I’ll sweep floors; I’ll take out garbage, whatever it takes. I just don’t want to go down to the underhive.”

“Ok, I tell you what. Show up tomorrow, at this address,” the kid said as he scribbled on a napkin. “I will take you inside and introduce you to my father. The rest is up to you.”

“That is awesome! Man, I really appreciate this. Let me buy you a drink with my winnings. My name is Kryler by the way.” Logan said while reaching to shake hands with the Van Saar.

“Ian, my name is Ian Vants,” the kid replied and shook Logan’s hand.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

Logan had not returned to his perch immediately after leaving the kid at the drinking hole. Just down the street he had to make one more contact. A simple matter, but it was necessary to wrap up the loose ends. It almost did not work. No one wanted to take a juve seriously, but the pocket full of Guilders from his winnings helped win over their confidence.

After that he went back and grabbed a little nap. He only allowed himself a brief one, but the debris digging into his back helped as well. When he did wake he focused on the exterior guard rotations and their patterns. He even say Ian arrive. Finally the time came for him to ‘arrive’ at the Lab.

Walking up to the door he was met by a muscular Van Saar. Logan quickly noted the man was armed with a plasma rifle and bolt pistol. “I am here to see Ian Vants. He told me to meet him here.”

The man peered at him suspiciously but spoke into some kind of microphone built into the collar of his bodysuit. “Wait over there,” the guard pointed across the street.

Logan did his best to not appear to be nervous, but he watched the man intently. There was the occasional exchange of communication with someone unseen, probably a central security center. About ten minutes later another guard; this one only armed with a Bolt Pistol emerged from the building and spoke with the first one. Then the first guard motioned for Logan to come back across the street.

“What do you want,” the new guard asked as Ian approached.

“Ian told me to meet him here. My name is Kryler and I am here for a job.”

The second guard mirrored the first’s reaction, but this time he was not told to wait across the street. When the front door opened again it was Ian who stepped through.

“What is it Garse? I am in the middle of a test.”

The second guard bent closer to Ian and whispered something. “No, he’s alright. He is just here for a janitorial position.”

Warily the guards let the two juves in. For the rest of the day Garse followed Logan around. It did not matter since he was not there to perform any kind of sabotage, just look around and get a mental map of the inside of the building.

It may not have been a hard job, but it was a whole lot better than working out in the fields. At the end of the day Ian found Logan collecting up some trash from the outer offices.

“I spoke with my Father. You should be hired on permanent within a week.” Ian said as he followed Logan out of the building. “Come on, let’s go grab some grub.”

As the two juves stepped from the doorway a well built woman approached. This one appeared to be a bounty hunter with House Escher connections. “Is one of you Kryler? She asked.

Ian took a half step back from Logan and looked like he was going to run away. Logan had noticed it without being obvious. This was good. A chance to make his break and he took off running.

The well armed woman was hot on his heals, but she did not draw a weapon. Instead she just hurled insults at him as the pair sped away from the Labs and Ian.

When Logan was satisfied he was out of sight of his mark and the guards from the Lab he pulled up and stepped into the doorway of a run down tenement. The bounty hunter easily caught up with him there.

“Thanks,” Logan said slightly out of breath. “Here is the balance of the money I owe you.”

As he handed over the small pouch full of credits Logan hesitated just a moment, “If any one asks, you handed me over the union house for the labor corps.”

“Whatever you say young Kryler,” the woman said snatching the bag from his hands. “But I would hope not too many people ask or else I will hunt you down myself,” she said with a smile. And with that she was gone.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-
Part 3

Logan was going against a cardinal rule. He was returning to the scene of his crime. Not to bask in his success, or to relive some thrill, but he had to get back the items he had left behind, specifically his heirloom. The trench coat and tools were easily replaced, but he was not going to get his mother back.

Just as he cleared the edge of the building’s roof he heard the heavy tread of an Enforcer patrol. His heart skipped a beat. If they had seen him climb the wall there would be no escape.

“This is where the woman said she found her husband. He had been beaten up, robbed, and stripped naked. From now on we patrol these alleyways once a shift, random rotation.”

Logan chanced a peak over the edge. Five Enforcers were right below him. Each man wore the distinctive black heavy armor of Lord Helmawr’s police force. The speaker was carrying a large shield and a holstered bolt pistol. One other man carried a similar shield but held a mace-like object in his free hand. Two others carried the distinctive shotguns at the ready, while the last man was carrying a flamer held low in both hands.

“Tritan, make sure the other patrols get the information.”

There was just a nod from the man wielding the flamer, and then they moved off towards the street.

Logan slowly exhaled and lowered his head back down. Once his heart beat was back to normal he crawled over to where he had left his package. It was still there, undisturbed. Looking down at the Van Saar body glove he hesitated. ‘There’s supposed to be some interesting tech and usefulness in these things’, he thought to himself. Leaving the disguise in place Logan pulled his trench coat on and returned his heirloom to its place underneath.

Another quick glance over the edge showed that the Enforcers had not returned so Logan slipped over to climb back down to the alley. Now to get back home undetected.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

‘No one is here!’, Logan thought to himself and resisted the urge to panic. There was supposed to be someone here waiting for him, but the hallway was empty. Normally empty was good, but today was not a normal day.

Logan continued to walk down the hall as if he belonged there, but his heart was racing. Something was wrong and he didn’t know what. Not yet anyway. As he walked past the door the contact was supposed to be waiting for him at, he realized the door was wide open. Risking a glance inside as he walked past he saw that the room had been ransacked, but no sound came from the inside. Turning his attention back forward he continued to the stairwell at the far end of the hall and descended back to street level.

He was pissed. All his life he had to fight for things, but this was plain and simple abandonment. Checking his watch Logan thought to himself, ‘This is the time, and this is the place where, I am supposed to be’. When he got back he was going to have a few choice words for them and Kray. Right now he had more pressing matters to tend to.

Logan looked up and down the street. The market street was busy with all kinds of pedestrian traffic, and he was still deep inside Hive City. With all the people moving around it was impossible for him to tell if he had any kind of tail. With his contacts for his return trip absent he was going to have to go it alone.

This is one situation that his inexperience really worked against him. With the other two initiates running the insertion and extraction Logan had not paid attention to those details. There just hadn’t been enough time to review what he, and they, were supposed to do. Now he had to find a way back on his own.

Not wanting to draw too much attention Logan started walking again. The more he thought it over the more he realized he was just going to have to return the same way he had come across the wall. Not the smartest thing to do, especially if they had been detected coming up, but it was the only path that he knew of, available to him.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

When he had first crawled through this conduit he felt secure, hidden, now all he felt was trapped. If he was being trailed he could not even turn his head to look behind him let alone return fire if he should come under attack. So he kept moving as fast as he could.

Originally this was a communication access ways. Long ago it was crammed full of wires and pneumatic tubes to carry communications between the spire and Hive City, but as Hive: Primus grew so did the spire, and so did Hive City, leaving behind domes no longer seen as useful. House Delaque simply rerouted choice lines of communications, with some slight modifications Logan was sure, and created a tunnel to use as a means to move between domes. In this case it actually provided a portal across the wall the separated Hive City from the unruly Under Hive.

When he reached the end of the tube Logan paused to listen, both to see if there was anything waiting for him on his exit, and to try and determine if he was being followed. Once he was satisfied he climbed out and stepped down onto the secluded hallway. He was now in an abandoned central communications office. Although the lower levels had been reclaimed as improvised habs and below them a café specializing in rat burgers, the Delaque had taken great care to ensure this entrance was hidden. He would have to wait until late into the night cycle before leaving.

Once more he waited covering the entrance to the conduit in case he was followed. Once he was satisfied he checked the time. He still had eight hours to return with the information. With nothing left to do he allowed himself one more brief nap.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

“You’re late!”

Logan checked his watch. “No sir, I am not. I still have ninety minutes left.”

Krav checked his own watch and nodded. “You are correct, good job. I would like to ask you where your compatriots are.”

Logan looked between the leader of the ‘Couriers’ and Lusion. “They were not at the meeting place. When I arrived they were gone, I had thought they returned here.”

“You thought wrong! They were your responsibility! Why did you abandon them?” Krav was visibly upset at this point.

“Sir, per ‘The Book of Shadows’ my first responsibility was to return with the information I gathered. Since my mission was one of reconnaissance and stealth, I mean.”

“Excellent Logan that was once again the correct answer, what do you have for me?”

For the next half hour Logan was debriefed. Once Krav was sure that his young initiate had left nothing out he let him go. Once outside their leader’s room Lusion pulled him aside once more.

“Don’t get comfortable Logan. Krav still sees you as an outsider and he will not trust you. He still sees you as a Mavant, a male Escher weakling. He has only placated me this far because I am one of his Lieutenants, and I have only done this in the memory of what your mother did for me. You are a member of the ‘Couriers’ now. I have done everything I can for you, but do not expect me to come protecting you any more. You’re a man now, and a man has to know how to defend himself.” Without waiting for any reply his sponsor turned around and walked off, leaving Logan to his thoughts and to return to his hab.

Honor Debt

Ten long dreary years, ten years of not seeing her home, ten years of not seeing her friends, and ten years of no hope of returning to what she once knew. The temptation to just lay in bed for the rest of the day was strong, but she knew that she had obligations, and those would not wait.

Kyra rolled over on her side, sat up, and stretched. Looking down at her right arm she inspected the servos and gears that had replaced everything below her right elbow. It would appear that her success would not equal that of her old Matriarch, and she sighed. She was satisfied as she listened to the whir of machinery when the fingers were flexed. It was not a Van Saar model, but it worked.

Looking around her hab it was a wreck. Crushed out tox-sticks, a nasty habit that most of her current ‘family’ indulged in, lay everywhere. Empty bottles of Wildsnake and dishes, some still with food on them, also were strewn about the place.

“At least I have a place to call my own,” Kyra thought to herself. Most of them have to share rooms.

Behind her a form stirred to get out from under the blankets. Kyra smiled and turned around.

“Morning Logan, did you sleep well?”

“You move around too much,” the emerging head said.

Slowly a young man, maybe nine or ten, stirred to life. He rubbed his head and looked around and wondered if he had slept through yet another ‘meeting’ his mother always held in their one room hab.

Out of nowhere the boy asked, “Mom, why do we live here? I mean, why can’t we live among those who are like us?”

A gentle smile creased Kyra’s weary face. “Because these people took us in when we had no where else to go. I owe them my life.”

Even though he did not understand, the boy nodded his head as if he did.

“Well, I need to get going,” Kyra said as she strapped her pistol holster to her thigh, just above the edge of her very, very long boots. “Clean this place up Logan; I’ll be back after my shift.” And like that she was gone, off to who knew where. Although she worked at their ‘benefactors’ gambling den as a table dealer, she often held secondary jobs in the evening to make ends meet. Their hosts often came down on the two of them hard, especially since they remained strangers among them. “Some haven,” he thought to himself.

Logan looked around the room. He too had to get out the door to work. Since he was not considered worthy Logan was not allowed to attend the trade schools of his ‘brothers’. Instead he was put to work in the nutrient fields. A few months back ‘The Couriers’ had cleared out a small band of Scavvies that had occupied a small dome where septic lines from who knows where above, dumped into. Although it was incredibly noxious, the deposits were rich in nutrients and had fertilized large patches of ground. Mushrooms, and other underhive crops, thrived there. Not wanting to waste their own manpower Logan was pressed into service in the fields, along with others, to harvest the bounty. Then their hosts would come along and take their ‘fair share’, which always seemed to be most of it.

Still, Logan was able to see a lot that went on around him. For example, he knew ‘The Couriers’ were a very large Delaque gang, perhaps fifty or more in number. They had a lot of connections up hive (he knew this because they were always dressed very well – meaning in clean clothes), and they dealt directly with Guilders. When his work for the day was done, usually after fourteen hours out in the fields, he headed back to the hab block.

Back on the block he continued to watch the other kids. It was the only thing he could do since he was never allowed to join in their activities. The other kids shunned him because he was different. Logan and his mother were the only ones in the whole hab block that had hair and did not wear the dark-lensed goggles. It did not matter the age, all of the Delaque looked the same to him. Today was different though. His mother was going to be home early, or so she said. So, despite being bone weary from working all day, he set to work cleaning up the hab he shared with his mother.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

“Quiet, you’ll wake him.”

Logan woke, but did not stir. It was his mother... and someone else.

“He’s alright. He never wakes up, come on we have things to discuss.”

Logan recognized the voice. It was man known as ‘Lusion’, a member of the “Couriers”.

“There’s nothing to discuss ‘Lus’. Krav would never allow you to be joined with a woman from House Escher.”

“But you are not Escher anymore, you’re Delaque.”

Logan noticeably cringed under the covers. He knew his mother was proud to be an Escher. A point that had caused them both considerable inconvenience, but she was proud and would never back down.

“I am Escher, I will always be Escher. Just because I have come to see you men as equals does not make me any less Escher. I still know how to handle myself; you would be wise to not forget that... again.”

“Easy, easy. I meant no offense.”

The sound of distant gunfire broke the tension. Without thinking Logan looked over the edge of the blankets to look toward the door. His mother had her auto pistol gripped tightly in her artificial hand while Lusion gripped a bolt pistol in his left. The pair moved to the door and threw it open. Lusion was through first, followed quickly by his mother.

“Stay in here Logan, no matter what.”

Logan just nodded, but had no intention of sitting still. He waited for a full minute before getting out of bed. Once up and moving he crossed over to where his work clothes were dumped in the corner. Reaching under the pile he found what he was looking for, a thirty centimeter long knife that Lusion had given him for his ninth birthday. It was a simple design with a synth-leather grip and a snakehead shaped pommel.

Drawing out his prize Logan crept out onto the walkway that joined their hab unit with all the others along the exterior wall. It overlooked a large clearing five floors below that had once held a fountain. It was now nothing more than a plascrete circle.

Down below twenty or so Goliaths, easily identifiable by their sheer mass, moved into the square, hooting and hollering, and shooting their weapons in random directions. One autogun round ricocheted off the wall three meters to Logan’s right.

Logan was transfixed by the chaos below as Delaque responding to the invasion of their territory flooded into the far side of the clearing. Once the battle was joined it was impossible to isolate individuals, except for his mother. Her long blue hair and lighter color clothing making her easily distinguishable among the throng.

It seemed like she was everywhere. Logan had never seen her move like that. It was as if everyone else was in slow motion, but then time seemed to freeze.

A monster of a man wielding what looked like a mill wheel as a club charged forward. Logan realized that it was Lusion who faced this thing now, but the Delaque seemed transfixed with fear and was not responding to his impending doom.

Finally, as the man-mountain closed the final few meters, Lusion started to raise his Bolt Pistol, but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that it was too little too late.

As the massive club began to fall Kyra darted in and knocked Lusion out of its path. The club was not going to stop until it hit something, and it hit Kyra heavily on the shoulder. Logan could hear his mother’s painful cry from here. In the blink of an eye though she was back on her feet, her left arm hanging limp, but her right hand still gripped her auto pistol.

Both combatants began to move simultaneously, both screaming at the top of their lungs as they tried to best the other. Kyra beat the Goliath by a split second, her finger squeezed tightly on the trigger sending a stream of bullets impacting up and down the torso of the raging man. But once a mass is in motion it cannot be stopped until the energy has been completely consumed. And there was a lot of energy in the movement of that giant club, and it caught Kyra full force across her torso. The impact tossed the petite woman aside as child would discard a rag doll.

Before the woman’s body slumped to the ground Logan was up and running for the stairs. It took forever to reach the ground level. When he did the battle was over, but he did not notice, he was across the yard and leaning over his mother’s broken body. The woman’s neck and head were at an odd angle, and there were already deep purple marks across her upper body and face.

Try as he might he could not get her to respond to his cries.

“Stand up boy,” Lusion said as he stood from the other side of Kyra’s body. “She is gone, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

Logan looked up and wiped the tears from his cheeks, not knowing what to say or do. Slowly he lowered his mother’s body to the ground and stood up.

“The hospitality we extended to your mother is supposed to end with her.” The Delaque let that sink in before he continued. “But I want you to know... you have my word that I will watch over you in honor of what Kyra did for me. It is a matter of honor.”

“I thought the Delaque had no honor,” Logan thought to himself.

The Past

“What have you gone and done Kyra?” The tall muscular woman stood from behind her desk and moved around to the front so she could address the woman more directly. She was a full two meters tall, slight patch of grey tinted the front of her Mohawk, which she wore with pride. It was rare for a gang leader to live to old age and this Escher not only managed to see her grey hair come in, she did not have any bionic augmentation or debilitating injuries. Sure there were plenty of scars to boast about, but for the most part this woman was whole. Such success gave her a lot of respect. Not just with the elders of House Escher, but within her own gang as well. And it was the internal matters of the latter that drew her attention now.

The woman set before her was not as tall, or as muscular, but her frame and build lent for a more agile appearance. Where her Matriarch was thick, she was wiry. Where her leader was purposeful in her step the subordinate was light of foot. The young woman, Kyra, dared to raise her eyes as her Matriarch came around the corner of her desk.

“How could you have been so stupid?” The elder said as she sat on the edge of the desk.

Kyra dropped her eyes back to the floor at the reproach. It had all been a mistake. Well, not really. When it all began it was with her head up, eyes open, and with a head full of steam and wild abandon. It was not like anything she had ever done before. As a matter of fact it was exactly the kind of thing she had always managed to avoid in the past.

“So, you know what you have to do. There cannot be any question. You need to correct this, and the sooner the better. I know just…”

“But,” Kyra interrupted as she raised her head to look into her leader’s eyes. “I am not so sure that I want to, ‘correct’, it.”

The older Escher woman just starred at her Lieutenant for a long moment.

“You are not sanctioned by the House. How do you propose to conclude this endeavor?”

Kyra frowned. She had not considered that and it came crashing down upon her mind. If this ‘endeavor’, as Pandora put it, worked through to the logical conclusion, she faced exile. Not just from her gang, but from House Escher as well.

“I… I… hadn’t thought about that.”

“Well, it is too late to worry about the past. We need to look to the future now.” The older woman tore off the corner of some scrap piece of paper that littered her desk and scribbled something on it. “Go and see Vera, have her review the situation. She will provide you with the options. Say nothing else, but return back here immediately after.” Pandora took a moment to gauge if her Lieutenant was paying attention or dismissing her advice. “Once you return we will discuss what you plan to do. I want you to know that I will assist you… no matter what you decide.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

Four hours later Kyra returned, her shoulders slumped as if she bore a heavy burden, to Pandora’s office. Kyra’s mind was racing so fast that she did not hear Pandora the first time she greeted her.

“Kyra!” the gang leader shouted, finally gaining her subordinate’s attention. “What did Vera have to say?”

“She said that there were no alternatives. The process would have to be aborted immediately.” As soon as Kyra said those words a wave of emotions flooded over her. Emotions she had not allowed herself to feel since her days as a juve. “She said since I was not a sanctioned Matern it is not permitted for me to see this through to completion.” She was fighting her emotions with all her strength. Looking up, Kyra sought her Leader’s approval. She wanted to know what Pandora had to say.

“And what do you want? Do you going to see this all the way through, or are you going to follow Vera’s, and thus House Escher’s, recommendations? Now that Vera knows there is no putting off the decision any longer. Our sisters in Hive City probably know already. I can see that you get transferred to the Matern offices. I am sure you would be well taken care of.”

“The gangs have all I’ve ever known. I doubt that I would be well received, comfortable or not. I’d probably revert to my more, ‘aggressive’ tendencies. No, I want to see this through. I may not have realized I was heading down this path when I started, but I started willingly and I plan to take it all the way.” Kyra said standing up, bracing herself for her leader’s reprisal. But it never came.

“Then you are going to need a few things, come with me.” And with that Pandora led her out of her office.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

Kyra had no idea what to expect, or where Pandora was leading her. Her little venture was not known to anyone but the two of them, but these things do not remain a secret for long. And unless you have the censure of the ruling house you can bet that un-sponsored endeavors will be cancelled at the next earliest convenience – and the originator could expect nothing short of an unpleasant end.

“Kyra! Pay attention!” the young Lieutenant had drifted off into her own thoughts and not heard her Matriarch addressing her.

“You will meet with my contact at ‘The Jolly Sump’. Take this guilder, it is coated with a special chemical that will only be visible to who you need to meet, and she will know what to do.”

Kyra looked up into Pandora’s eyes. She was searching to see if there was any indication if this was the end for her, but her boss was impossible to read.

“When will I be able to come back?” Kyra finally asked.

“When you have seen your mission through and not before. You entered into this business on your own, and now you will see it through on your own.” The elder said as she put a reassuring hand on her arm. “You will make it through this.”

And with that Pandora turned around and left Kyra to gather her things. Kyra just watched her leave and then stared at the door for several minutes that closed behind her Matriarch. It was only as she looked around her small room that she realized that there really was not much to take.

An ornate broach presented to her from Pandora when she was made Lieutenant, a few hair pieces and dyes, a few changes of clothes, a simple auto pistol, but the one thing she prized above all things was an ornately decorated sword presented to her by her mother when she was accepted in to Pandora’s gang – the Prowlers.

She hefted up the light sword. It weighed only two kilograms and was a mere one and a half meters in length. Not all that imposing in size but it had served her very well, which she was reminded of as she eyed the score of kills marks etched into the sturdy hard synth-leather scabbard. She slowly drew the blade from its resting place to look upon the etchings in the blade itself. Ancient characters spelled out “Death comes swiftly”, at least that what she was told. She could read Necro-Gothic, but these characters were nothing she had ever seen before, but they were beautiful. She slid the ornate blade gently back into its sheath and slung it over her shoulder. Slipping the auto pistol into the holster strapped to her thigh and throwing her small backpack she turned on her heals and headed off to meet her fate just as readily as she had begun this chapter of her life.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

“The Round Sump” was busier than usual. Located in the dead center of “Davin’s Deep”, an old miner’s camp, it was not known for its atmosphere. The patrons of this particular watering hole only wanted one thing, and that was to forget their troubles. What attracted ‘The Prowlers’ to the Sump was that it was owned by a particularly tough woman known as Grenda. Even though she was not Escher born, she had proved often enough that she could deal with even Goliath-like troubles.

Kyra looked around. All of the tables deep in shadow were taken, as was to be expected this far from Hive City, so she took an empty stool located at the far end of the bar.

As she sat down on the stool Kyra placed the guilder coin she received from Pandora on the bar, then flagged down the barkeep to order a glass of Wildsnake. As she waited she patted the bar nervously.

Grenda was fast tonight and set the glass down in front of her latest patron. Almost before Kyra realized it the barkeep was scooping up the guilder.

“No, wait!” Kyra practically shouted. “I mean, her take this one,” she said reaching into a pocket on her vest. “That’s my luck charm.”

Grenda just shook her head and dropped the old coin back on the counter and walked away. In her nervous state Kyra picked up the glass and gulped down the foul beverage, worm and all.

“Should you be doing that in your situation?”

Kyra spun around to see who was speaking to her. The person who was now standing just behind her stood just shy of one and three quarters of a meter tall, and dressed in a long trench coat with no other visible clothing. It was impossible to determine the speaker’s sex as the trench coat covered any distinguishing features, and the person’s head was completely bald. Kyra could not even look into the speaker’s eyes as they were completely covered with rectangular shaped, deeply tinted, goggles.

“When one is fleeing for their life, is it wise to consume intoxicating beverages?” The speaker spoke again pulling Kyra back to the situation at hand.

“Excuse me. Do I know you, and what business is it of yours?”

“I believe we have a common acquaintance, Pandora. Yes?”

Kyra eyed the stranger up and down. She, or possibly a he, was definitely from the Delaque, and they were not generally known for their trustworthiness.

Seeing the distrust in Kyra’s eyes the stranger pulled a guilder coin from a pocket in the trench coat. Placing it next to Kyra’s guilder it became obvious that the two fit together like pieces in a puzzle.

“If you want to make it out of here you need to follow me. I have already made arrangements.”

Without hesitation Kyra dropped in behind the stranger and left “The Round Sump” to begin the rest of her life.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

A Tool of the Trade

Shooting had just seemed to come naturally to Ian. His mind automatically computed the range and speed to the target without a conscious thought. But this target eluded him.

Ian ignored the Infrared gun sight mounted atop of his lasgun. Although he took great pride in his creating that particular piece of tech, it was useless in this situation. Peering across the weapons own mounted sights he lined up and, taking a moment to control his breathing, he completed the pull of the trigger.

A slight crack sounded the sudden increase of temperature along the path of the ionized particles as the discharge of the weapon zipped on its way to the target. One that Ian had selected both for its distance and size.

The sudden explosion of a small, empty mind you, bottle of wildsnake announced Ian’s success in hitting his target. Adjusting slightly to his left he brought his weapon to bear on another bottle even further along. The results were the same, as they had been all morning.

“I don’t get it,” he said to himself. “I know that in the heat of battle little things can move one’s aim, and a little change here, is a big change out there. Allowing for even a fifty percent miss rate I should have had more success in taking down my targets lately.”

Ian shook his head. This puzzle was messing with his head. Ian liked to tell people that he was not a perfectionist, but he also liked to gauge his results. The truth was he did not like to fail, at all.

Walking back towards the Steel Spider’s lair Ian fiddled with the sides of his lasgun. He knew every inch of that weapon inside and out. In his ever ending search for knowledge of tech and gadgets Ian had disassembled and reassembled this particular lasgun well over a hundred times. It was a standard construct pattern that House Van Saar produced in the millions for Lord Helmawr and the Imperium. The weapon performed flawlessly. He had never experienced one issue with the functionality, and he was always sure he charged the powercell whenever he had more then a half hour to himself. And yet he was not getting the job done when it came to keeping watch over the rest of the Spiders in his role as sniper.

“It needs more power, that’s what it needs,” Ian thought to himself. “But how to do it?”

As Ian walked through the halls of his gang’s home it was mostly deserted. Boanerges had managed to find a video feed of a Hive City slaughter ball game and was crashed out on a couch in front of it. Even the medical bay was empty.

When he got to his workbench he moved several half completed projects to the back of the bench and set his rifle down. Before picking up any tools Ian disassembled the weapon in his mind trying to figure the best way to go about it. He was no weapon smith, but he loved to tinker with the tech. If Boanerges knew how much he messed with his lasgun he would probably receive an ‘education’ from the team’s heavy.

The optics? No, they were too easily ruined. Even a scratch would render them useless.

That left the power supply. Ian ran through the mental picture of the power system of his lasgun. The wiring and circuit boards should be able to handle the additional charge, probably the optics too. Dropping the power supply out of the magazine well he turned it over in his hands. It was completely sealed. If he broke it open Boanerges would know the next time he turned it over to him for servicing. Not a good idea.

Ian continued to stare down at the lasgun. What were those things called? Hotshot power cells are what they are called. What could Bo say? Those cells were made for las weapons. “Nothing to do but to do it,” he told himself and with that he headed out to the trading post.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

They were all the same. How could they not be? The Imperium provided the template to the factories of Necromunda and they churned them out by the millions. Ok, some had longer shoulder stocks, some had folding stocks, a few had a forward charging handle to grip, but none of them had what Ian was looking for. It was the results that Ian was looking for, not cosmetic differences.

In the end Ian learned that there were ‘juiced’ up power cells available for the lasgun and the las pistols, but he could not get s single vendor to even show him one.

“If you are looking for a little more stopping power, maybe you would be more interested in this?” a Guilder finally said.

The man held up a fine looking Bolt Gun. Manufactured by House Delaque by the look of it, smooth and crisp line, simple but effective design, and the gun metal had been made to diminish reflected light.

“The shells are easily obtainable,” the guilder injected quickly seeing the whirling thoughts pass across Ian’s face. “This weapon is the weapon of choice of our Emperor’s finest. Plenty of stopping power for any enemy you might meet.”

Ian turned the bolt gun over in his hands. It was slightly heavier, and a whole lot more bulky, than his lasgun. But that is not what bothered him. The weapon was wholly mechanical. There were no integrated circuits, no real tech to speak of. It was a simple mechanical tool. Once the weapon was discharged it used the gases generated from the explosive charge to force the bolt mechanism back when it would then load the next shot as it returned back forward. It felt… beneath him if that was an accurate word.

Not that such a fine weapon did not have its uses; it was just that the Van Saar were masters of producing quality and high technology. Simple mechanics were best left to the less sophisticated.

In the end Ian opted to just pick up a few pieces for his various projects. He even picked up a lasgun power cell to see if might be able to play around with the power discharge.

Payback

“Hold still or this is really going to hurt!”

The sound of the drill and the smell of smoldering flesh and bone filled the Steel Spider’s small medical bay. Ian stood at the head of the table and leaned forward pressing down with no small amount of weight upon a drill. Underneath him, his head locked firmly in a makeshift halo harness, lay Hargrave doing his best to kick and squirm. Fortunately Boanerges and Dyrke lay across the patient’s torso and legs respectively. Nothing could silence the man’s screams as the pain pierced what little pain killer Ian had used.

Without stopping Ian glanced quickly at Dyrke and said, “I still don’t think this is a good idea. I’m not a doctor.”

“So you have said”, Dyrke grunted his reply, “but you are all I’ve got. Besides all you need to do is tap the temporal lobe and insert the chip.”

Ian just shook his head as he continued to concentrate. “That is easy for him to say. One slip of this drill and Hargrave here won’t be much good for anything other than rat bait”, he said to himself.

“Ok, hand me the chip.”

Amber stepped up from behind him. As she handed Ian the lobo-chip she winced. It is one thing to see someone get plastered on the battle field, another thing entirely to just hack into someone’s head on a table.

“Keep him still… Ok, here goes nothing.” Ian slid the metallic stud into the small hole in the man’s temple. Once that was in place he took a small tool from a side table and used it to flip two minute switches in the circuit board cap. Silently three probes protruded from the far end and secured themselves into unknown regions of the patient’s brain and then pulled itself gently down into place.

A little blood continued to seep from the edges where the flesh had been cut into, but Hargrave seemed to settle down. Bo and Dyrke relaxed their grip and eyed the man warily. With only a slight shrug of his shoulders to encourage them to release him completely Hargrave slowly sat upright. Instinctively he reached up to touch the foreign device now implanted permanently in his head.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. That is still an open wound and you will infect it.” Ian said as he gently grabbed Hargrave’s wrist. “It should heal up nicely though.

“You sure this is going to work doc?” Hargrave asked Ian as he eyed the medic.

“Well, it should help you keep your head clear if that is what you meant.”

Looking back up Hargrave said, “I thought you were going to put that drill all the way in there for a minute.” He glanced over Ian’s shoulder at Amber as he finished the last part of the sentence.

“She can take care of herself, besides. I trust her,” Ian replied looking back at her.

“Now then, since that little issue is cleared up how about we get a move on.” Dyrke stepped up and looked Hargrave up and down. “Is he well enough to travel?”

“He should get some rest.” Ian replied. “Give the wound time to heal.”

“There may not be enough time. ‘Panthera’ here has given me an idea. We are going to seize the initiative against the Black Cats starting tonight.”

Ian looked back at Amber. She was grinning from ear to ear.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

“There’s nothing to be afraid of”, Amber said to Ian. “I lived with them and they are proud and stubborn. They will be there.”

“Yea, but they known you know. And now that you have defected they are bound to change their routine”, Ian replied.

“You don’t get it do you. Not only is Fushia a stubborn woman, but she has little regard for men. She had this meeting set up several days ago and she is not about to be ‘pushed away’ by men, let alone some snot-nosed-juve. Besides, I think she really believes that I would never betray her and the Cats like this, me being a woman and all.”

Ian contemplated Amber’s last statement. The Escher are an anomaly to him. Sure his mother had shown him that women had strength while she raised him, but women just did not enjoy much prominence within House Van Saar. And yet since joining the Steel Spiders, and coming to live at the Bifrost, Ian had learned to respect the skills of the women of house Escher.

“What about your friend Jade? Will you be able to face her if it should come to that?” Ian asked?

Amber hesitated. “I don’t know.”

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

Part 2

Ian did not like being alone. And that is exactly how he found himself now and that during the lull just before a battle.

When one grows up in hive city you are constantly surrounded by teems of people. Now Ian found himself in an odd combination of roles. On the one hand he was his gang’s sole medic, on the other he was one of the snipers.

As the latter the others seemed to remain distant, like he was some kind of specter or assassin. It was if they treated him as a man without honor, someone who feared to face his opponent face to face.

As the former the others, especially Dyrke, did not want to be seen as weak. To be seen by the ‘Doc’ was an admission of weakness. And to admit that you were weak was to invite attack.

So that was how Ian now found himself alone as he entered Kronly’s hole, an old slag pit now run by a group of Eschers known as the Black Cats. The very same gang that Ian faced off against in the market place back at the Bifrost a few weeks back. The same gang that Amber had been a part of to spy on House Escher for House Van Saar.

Another draw back of being out on the wing like this was not knowing Dyrke’s full battle plan. Ian had been told what was needed of him and where to go if the gang should need to break and run, but he had not been privy to where anyone else was going or what they would be doing. “Nothing to do, but to do it”, he said to himself and set about his task.

Ian darted across a litter strewn alleyway. Once on the other side he stopped adjacent to a gap between the wall he was now leaning against and a shanty-like building. Looking around the corner he could see that the gap led deeper into the dome. Twenty meters in was a small manager’s shack tucked in under some scaffolding. The urge to move forward almost caused him to move, but this was where Dyrke wanted him and this is where he would stay. Although it was at ground level he had a good vantage point from here so he panned his infrared gun sight around to see what he could see.

Further down the same alley, but on the other end of the dilapidated building on his right Dyrke was leading Rogers and Hargrave on into the dome. They passed out of sight behind the building.

There was movement out beyond his line of sight ahead. Try as he might he could not tell what it was. But it was definitely getting closer.

To his left Ian saw Boanerges, the distinctive Van Saar heavy machine gun smoothly silhouetted against the cool background giving him away. He was alone as well.

The staccato of automatic rifle fire drew his attention back to his assigned area of responsibility. Bo’s heavy stubber added its voice to the fray immediately after. As Ian scanned the area two heat signatures seemed to emerge from the floor to his front, adjacent to the scaffolding to his front. The first image was obscured by the second, but this last one was definitely a woman.

Ian dropped the crosshairs onto the second target but something made him stay his hand. The two figures were not moving towards him and his fellow Van Saar. Instead they were focused on something further on. It was Amber and Renold. Holding his breath Ian eased his finger off of the trigger.

The two Van Saar were obviously trying to figure out their next move. Judging by Renold’s repeated glances around the corner the enemy was getting close. Adjusting the settings on his scope Ian could now see at least three heat signatures moving up. Although there was a lot of intervening terrain he chanced a shot.

The sudden las bolt whipping past Renold caused him to jump back behind the wall. Renold looked back towards Ian and shook his fist, but then quickly turned his attention back towards the approaching Escher.

Ian could not tell if his shot struck anything important. When Renold shook his fist at him Ian just shrugged his shoulders and smiled. Besides, it was not even close to his fellow Van Saar.

No matter if the shot found its mark or not the wave of Escher was ready to fall upon Renold and Amber. The once indiscernible shapes now showed no less than four Black Cats. Without hesitation Ian continued to send shot after shot into the targets as they revealed themselves, but even from here he could tell that their use of cover was paying off. He had yet to inflict any apparent wounds.

In desperation Renold jumped from behind his cover with his las pistols in both hands. Each weapon was pouring round after round into the Escher. Amber stood at the corner adding slugs from her auto pistol into the volume of fire now impacting in and around the Escher. It was too late. As Amber ducked back behind the wall to reload the Escher covered the last piece of ground and were upon the two Van Saar gangers.

From where Ian was he was helpless to aid his fellow Spiders. The Escher were now on top of them. He watched as Amber slammed home a fresh clip into her auto pistol and braced herself for the onslaught.

Renold was immediately engaged by a woman wielding a heavy caliber stubber and a vicious club. Amber had more time to prepare herself as a green mow-hawked woman rounded around the other combatants.

Even from here Ian could tell that it was Jade. Both women hesitated for a split second as they recognized one another. The friendship they had once shared dropped away faster than it took for the look of recognition to fade from their faces which was instantly replaced with open loathing for each other.

Just as Jade leaned forward to sprint across the remaining ground she raised her swords over her head and let loose a battle cry that could be heard throughout the dome. Taking a half step back Amber smoothly raised up her freshly loaded auto pistol, braced by both hands. Within a heartbeat of Jade’s swords descending Amber squeezed the trigger. The outcome was inevitable. At the range involved it was unlikely that even one slug missed the mark and the lifeless form of Jade fell in a heap at Amber’s feet. But there was no time to contemplate what had just happened.

Renold’s battle with the Escher Juve had ended quickly. The young woman had landed a severe blow and her opponent and Renold was now writhing on the ground clutching his right arm. The Juve quickly followed through with her attack and descended on Amber. Before Amber could even recognize the new threat it was over. The woman’s club crashed down with a glancing blow to the side of Amber’s head and then landing heavily on her shoulder. She collapsed in a heap.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

Part 3

There was nothing Ian could do for either Renold or Amber from where he was. His job was to provide covering fire for the rest of the Steel Spiders. The urge to cross the open ground with his lasgun blazing welled up within him. It took all of his self control, but he would follow orders and stay put. Maybe even deliver some payback.

Ian peered through the sites of his lasgun bringing it to bear on the juve now standing over Amber’s motionless body. “Steady”, he whispered to himself and began to squeeze the trigger. Just as the electrodes within the trigger mechanism were going to close Dyrke and Rogers slammed into the now gathered Escher gangers. Even though the latest Van Saar arrivals were out numbered two to one the advantage of surprise quickly evened up the odds as the pair dispatched their respective opponents with ease.

“Fall back Cats!” A voice called out from just beyond the foreman’s shack. “Leave the boys to play with themselves!” And with that the women of House Escher began to pull back with out another sound.

There is an unspoken code. When your enemy leaves you the field of battle you grant them safe passage. There are other days, other domes to be fought over. So Dyrke allowed the Cats to gather up their wounded and leave.

Once the signal was given Ian crossed the open ground quickly. Without thought he knelt next to Amber first. She was out cold and her left shoulder was at an odd angle. Rolling her over onto her back he could see that the color bone was broken. Although it had not torn through the skin – yet – it was sticking up a good distance.

“I cannot set this here. I need to get her back to the Bifrost”, Ian said looking up to Dyrke. Without waiting for a reply Ian moved over to Renold.

Renold was still conscious but he was in obvious pain. He clutched his lower right arm with his left and held it close.

“Let me see that”, Ian said.

It was not good. One of the bones in the lower arm was protruding through the skin and blood was trickling out and down the arm, dripping off the fingers to the floor below.

“I can set this here, but it is unlikely he will have much use of it for a while.”

Dyrke nodded his head in acknowledgement, his eyes fixed on the far end of the dome where the Cats had beat a hasty retreat.

“Bo, I need you to get your heavy stubber up on that platform,” Dyrke pointed up and to the right. “Cacee, I need you to cover this ground from over there on the left.”

Ian was trying to figure out what was going on. The Black Cats had left the field to them. They had won. Dyrke was preparing like they were getting ready to get over run or something.

“Katan, Rogers, and Hargrave, you are with me. Ian put the wounded in the shed here and cover the ground, but I don’t want you to shoot until the signal is given. That would be you Bo.”

“You think they are going to come back after the ass kicking we just gave them boss?” Ian asked.

“I would,” was the Van Saar leader’s reply. “They gave as good as they got. If they spring back, maybe catch us off guard, they could take the field back and inflict some pain to boot.”

Each of the Spider’s set about their assigned task.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

Amber still had not regained consciousness, and Renold gripped a las pistol in his left hand but was still in a lot of pain. The limited amount of meds in Ian’s kit barely took the edge off. Ian had peeled back a part of the corrugated metal wall. This gave him a decent view of the designated kill zone. Jade’s body still laid strewn where it had fallen. Even though Ian and the wounded were only five meters away scavengers had already come to see what the hive had left behind. Ian tried to scare them away, but it was impossible without giving away his position. Everyone knew that such things were part of the circle of life within the hive, especially those who did not live within the comfortable walls of Hive City, but to witness it was another thing. Ian struggled to resist the urge to empty his stomach.

Just as he was sure he would lose this battle the distinct sound of falling rubble echoed through the air, then the sound of muffled voices. Ian nestled in behind the stock of his lasgun. It would not be much longer.
Slowly five distinct shapes approached the designated kill zone, though none of them were so bold as to walk in the open. Ian thought to himself, “There should be nine. Where are the other four?”

As one of the gangers darted out into the open to cross to where the body of their dead compatriot lay Dyrke opened up with a long burst. The Escher danced as the heavy caliber rounds impacted in and around the woman. When the burst ended so did the dance and she collapsed in a heap on the ground.

The other four women were quick in their response. Two of them, one being the Black Cat’s own heavy stubber, began to return fire in Boanerges’ direction. Cacee and Ian now added their own ‘voice’ to the discussion. It was a textbook crossfire and the Escher did not stand a chance.

CRASH! Just as Ian was getting lost in the battle to his front the door to the shack in which he and the other wounded were taking shelter caved in under the boot of a sturdy looking Escher. In her hands she carried a menacing looking flamer. The distinct hiss of the igniter’s small torch poised just in front of the promethium nozzle caused Ian’s heart to catch in his throat.

Then the air erupted with the sound of gun fire. Just outside of the room the distinct report of bolt pistols was joined by Renold’s repeated shots from his las pistol. The woman grunted several times as rounds impacted her body and then fell to the ground, the hiss of the igniter still spitting.

Katan stuck his head around the corner. “Things secure in here?”

Ian just waved his hand in acknowledgement. Katan nodded his acknowledgement and left.

“Thanks Renold” Ian finally said.

“No problem,” Renold said grinning. “I’ve got your back.”

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

Part 4

The din of battle outside the shack was raging hot. Even after the removal of the Escher flamer from his doorway, Ian could hear at least two separate combats taking place. One of them was just beyond the thin metal wall to his right.

With nothing more taking place out the little hole he was sitting behind Ian drew his las pistol and made for the door. If the wrong person won the exchange outside, he was sure that he and his patients would be next.

Just as the door started to swing back in again Ian shifted his pistol to the right hand and then kicked with all his weight behind it sending the door smashing back into whoever was behind it.

“Ah! Son of a….” was the only response. But more importantly, Ian recognized the voice.

“Bo! Man, sorry about that!” Ian said as he stepped through the door to help the now prone Van Saar heavy back to his feet.

“Don’t worry about it. Come on, Dyrke sent me to move you and the others. Get you all some place a little more out of the way.”

Ian scooped up amber across his shoulders, her arms to the left and her legs to the right. Renold was also up and ready to move.

Just outside the door the trio almost tripped over Katan. He was down on one knee with blood gushing out of the other. Boanerges quickly reached down and scooped up the injured ganger and the group moved on its way crossing back across the open ground Ian had first covered to get to the shack in the first place.

Once everyone was behind the cover of the alleyway the injured where lined up along the wall so Ian could give them the once over again. Boanerges covered the group from the corner, but the sound of gun play was waning fast.

The sprint across the open ground on Ian’s shoulders had jarred Amber to consciousness, and she was in obvious pain. She groaned uncontrollably as she clutched her useless left arm. The bone protruding from her where her collar bone should be continued to threaten to pierce the skin and almost touched her jaw line. There was nothing he could do but grimace for her. He reached into his kit bag and pulled out the little bit of pain relievers he had. Since leaving the comfortable labs of his father’s business he did not have the luxury of having injectors.

“You have to swallow these,” Ian said practically shoving them into the gangers mouth.

Amber gagged slightly but managed to get the pills down her throat dry.

“What about me Doc. Do you have anything left for me?”

Ian shook his head as he looked over at Renold.

“Fresh out.” The Ian remembered Katan and left Amber to suffer in peace.

Katan’s pant leg was drenched in blood. A harsh wound pierced his thigh, and it was deep.

“What do you think Ian?” Katan said as he shifted his weight so that he could give the medic better access to the wound.

“I am not sure Katan. It looks pretty bad. Can you move it?”

The seasoned ganger gingerly bent his right leg. It moved, but very slowly. Almost as if the man was trying to move a smelting furnace by himself.

Grunting Katan shook his head. “It hurts bad enough for me to think it is broken.”

Ian used both hands as he kneaded the muscles trying to feel if anything was out of place. Katan threw his head back and it took all his strength to suppress the outcry that threatened to erupt from his body.

“Sorry. Everything seems to be in place, but I think whatever it was may have nicked the bone. Can you walk?”

Katan chuckled through the pain. “Sure, if you have a couple more doses of those stimms.”

“Afraid not old man,” Ian smiled as he looked Katan in the eyes. Katan just nodded in reply.

-=-=-=O=-=-=-

It had taken the Spiders the better part of a day cycle to get everyone back to the Bifrost’s lower level. Once Dyrke had gotten his men within easy reach of their layer he took Boanerges and diverted to try and get to the trading market before the guilders closed up shop for the night. Ian had made it clear that he needed some more medical supplies. Pain relievers, stims, antiseptic and bandages were all in short supply.

Renold’s arm was easily set but, as Ian constantly reminded everyone, he was not a doctor. After a few days it was obvious that the bone would mend, but the strength would never be the same.

Katan’s wound had indeed nicked the bone. Despite Ian’s best efforts Katan had a pretty severe limp.

Amber’s shoulder was pretty bad. Once back in medical bay Ian took some tubing, formed it into two loops and placed one around each arm and up over the shoulders. With some more scraps he then tied the two loops together across her back. He pulled them so tight that it thrust her shoulders backwards. So much so that she had difficulty raising her arms up beyond her shoulder level.

“You have got to be kidding,” Amber said in frustration.

“We need to get the bone back into position to support the arm. From here the bones line up and should set nicely. Besides, I like what it does for your figure,” he finished with sly smile.

“Cute. Isn’t there anything else you men think about?”

“Sure, we also think about eating and sleeping.”

“How long am I going to have to be tied up like this?”

“It will most likely take a couple of weeks for the bone to heal sufficiently.”

“Won’t the Cats take advantage of our being a man down?”

“I don’t think the Cats are going to be out prowling anytime soon. I counted four corpses as we left ‘Kronly’s Hole’. Rumor has it they have abandoned that slag pit too. Dyrke has sent Hargrave to work it. We might be able to get some salvageable material out of it, at least for a few guilders now and then. Get some rest. I’m sure Dyrke will have something for us to do soon enough.”