Samurai's Yarns

[Elrain 0] Introductions

2012-01-12T18:30:00.000-05:00

This is a background piece i wrote up for a friend who was willing to do some sketches of this character that i have been working for a long time. Like, 18 to 24 months long time. I wanted to post this to begin to share a new story thread i am working on. While i want to continue Ian and Amber's story line... i have had writer's block for some time now. So, to fill up the space of my desire to write i have been working on this character and story line for almost 2 years now. I say this, not to get anyone's hopes up... but i have just been wanting to 'get it right' so to speak. To figure out some stuff and just not wish it. So, while i am allowing the introduction piece 'simmer' some (to do some editing, etc.) i will share this introduction. I hope you enjoy it... please feel free to post any constructive criticism i would appreciate it.

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

Ramic took one more glance towards the distant guard towerbefore he darted out in to the Ash Wastes. It was bad enough that he was accommodating to the Nomads who frequentedHive’s End, but to be seen slipping out to meet one in the Wastes could be seenas treasonous. Once he was beyond thefloodlights from the Shantytown’s walls he followed the Dunes to where theNomad said he would meet him. Without asound a tall lithe form emerged from the wastes behind Ramic. The fine resins and debris of the wastelandsdrifted off the humanoid form, surrounding it in a thin cloud.

“You are late Mon-Keigh”

The tinkerer spun around whipping a brace of bolt pistolsfrom his holsters to drawn down on the ambusher. What he saw caused him to stay his triggerfingers. Within the slowly settlingcloud stood a humanoid form without a definitive outline, its clothing blendedin with the changing dust pattern perfectly. The one thing he could make out clearly was a sleek looking pistol witha horizontal muzzle held in gloved hands and leveled cleanly at his chest. Cradled in its left arm was an ornate longrifle of a design Ramic had never seen before. He knew instinctively that if this man had wanted him dead, he wouldhave been, before he had even realized he was under attack. He lowered his pistols.

“I had a few customers to tend to ‘fore I came to meet’chu”,Ramic stammered.

Slowly Ramic holstered his pistols, never taking his eyesoff of the slanted cobalt blue eyes staring back to him from underneath a deepcowl. With a twitch of its head the hoodslipped smoothly back to reveal a fair skinned oval face, with high angularcheek bones and a respirator that coved both nose and mouth. Black hair was pulled neatly back into a flatponytail that tucked into the collar of the ankle length duster that was givingRamic’s eyes fits trying to focus on. Ashis ambusher moved to put the strange pistol into an underarm holster, thefront of the duster parted to reveal a neck to foot body suit. A rune pendant hung from a heavy chain aroundhis neck. Upon the left breast, amongthe leather straps securing the holster, was embedded a grey polishedstone. Underneath the right arm, a smallsatchel secured similarly to the holster on the opposite side. Around the waista broad belt with several pouches, which Ramic assumed were used for grenadesand various other munitions and/or tools. Upon each foot he wore thick leather boots that extended just beyondeach knee. Tassels with a wide varietyof foreign designs adorned the holster of the pistol and sling of the rifle.

“Are you ready?” the stranger asked.

“I reckon I am,”Ramic replied slowly regaining his confidence.

The stranger turned and gestured out to the wastes, “we havea long journey in front of us. Perhapsyou should return to your little shop. Iwill return in one rotations time, and if you are better prepared when I return,perhaps then we can travel on together.”

Ramic saw upon his back a full pack, more tassels, and aslightly curved longsword with a leather wrapped two handed hilt. Both scabbard and pommel were adorned withyet more tassels.

“No, I’m good to go,” Ramic replied as he lifted up his ownrucksack.

“Very well then, let me introduce you to Coosh,” thestranger made a distorted whistling sound through his repirator and from thedune now behind Ramic emerged a large dog-like construct. He had only heard tales of such creations, andthen only in hushed whispered when the Enforcers came around. While the stranger stood slightly smallerthan himself, maybe 1.7 meters tall, this Cyber Mastiff stood to Ramic’s waistand looked to outweigh them both. Ramicsized up the stranger… he didn’t have the look of an Enforcer, and hedefinitely didn’t have the frame of one probably weighing in at a little over60 kilos, tops.

“Coosh! Sit!”

Immediately the construct sat its rear haunches in to thesand. “Well,” Ramic thought to himself, “there’s no doubt who’s in controlthat mutt”.

[Ian 30] - Cast Out

2011-03-31T08:00:00.017-05:00

The assailant’s fist landed like a hammer blow on Ian’s right cheek and his vision filled with stars as his head began to swim.

“Where did you take him?!?”

Another hammer blow to his stomach took all of the wind out of him making it impossible to answer. It also caused all of the strength to evaporate from his legs and he collapsed in a heap to the floor, gasping, desperately trying to refill his lungs with air.

“Stop it!” a voice cried out from somewhere at the edge of his vision.

“Shut up bitch! Unless you want the same,” his assailant replied.

Ian lay bent over his knees with his forearms on the ground trying to regain his breath. He didn’t dare look up, but he could make out at least six pairs of boots ringing around him and Dyrke, the leader of the Steel Spiders.

“I escorted him to the Enfor…” Ian tried to gasp, but a heavy booted kick to his left side crushed his bicep into his ribs. The blow took the wind back out of him and rolled him over onto his back.

“He was the property of the Spiders Ian! You had no right to escort him anywhere!”

The last sentence was emphasized by another kick, this time to his right side.

“Please!”

THWACK!

Somewhere in the shadows Ian heard the meaty thud of someone else taking a blow, followed quickly by the sound of a collapsing body. Nobody else spoke up or moved to help Ian or his unseen advocate.

“Pick him up!”

Two sets of hands reached down and hauled him to his feet. Once vertical they had to support him because his legs were barely responding to his efforts to stand. He tried to lift his head to look Dyrke in the eyes. By now the swelling on the right side of his face was making it difficult to see out of his right eye.

“I took you in!” another hammer blow, this time to his left cheek.

“I gave you shelter!” another blow to the right.

“And this is the thanks I get!” a piston blow to his stomach. Now all strength left him, but the powerful hands held him in place.

“Do you have any idea what you have done to the reputation of the Steel Spiders?!?” This time his assailant gave him a two fisted backhand that landed hard enough to cause his restrainers to lose their grip and he collapsed to the floor once more. By now blood was dribbling out of his mouth at a steady rate into a pool on the floor.

Ian tried to stand up on his own but collapsed in a heap twice more before he got his knees under him, but as he rallied the strength to push up the rest of the way another hammer blow drove him back down. This time he just stayed down.

“Bring ‘em to the deck of the Bifrost. We’re going to make examples of them. Show the others what happens when you cross the Spiders.”

Two pairs of hands reached down once again and brought him to his feet. He had no strength in his legs and so he was dragged more than carried up the several ladders and decks until they reached the deck of the bridge that connected this part of Hive City to the Under Hive. It spanned a chasm a half a kilometer deep.

“What are we going to do with them Dyrke?”

Ian tried desperately to identify the voice of one of those he had called friends.

“We toss them over,” came the leader’s reply.

Ian tried desperately to rally his strength, but it was hopelessly inadequate. His escort’s grip held firm. What little vision he had through the swelling in his face he could see the abyss beyond the edge of the bridge and fear welled up in his throat.

“Can the Spiders come out and play?”

The procession to his doom stopped dead in their tracks. Ian could hear a lot of shuffling feet, but could not identify the voice.

“You’ve got no say in this Bounty Hunter! Best to leave now lest you get taught a lesson you won’t soon forget.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk. I am not here for them Dyrke. I’m here for Jakob. I heard tale that you had him. I want him. You wouldn’t even have been on his trail if it weren’t for me!”

“You can’t have him. It’s our bounty. We went and got him, and I aim to be the one to bring him in.”

“I kind of thought you’d say somthin’ like that.” The Bounty Hunter put two fingers in his mouth and brought forth a piercing whistle. On cue a dozen Escher stepped out of the shadows. “And I take issue with it.”

The vice grip that held Ian upright released their hold on him and he collapsed in a heap. Looking up Boenerges was placing a long boxed cartridge into the belly of his heavy stubber and was fixated on the new threat.

Ian looked around and saw that Gelder had released his grip on Amber as well. She stirred as she hit the deck, but slowly. Continuing to take in the situation he noticed that the Spiders were taking cover to face off against the Black Cats and the unknown Bounty Hunter. Dyrke was not currently interested in exacting his justice on Ian at the moment. He knew that would not last and that he and Amber would only have a few moments to affect their escape. Amber looked up and made eye contact with Ian. It was clear she was as scared as he was. With little effort Ian communicated that they needed to crawl back the way they had come.

They pair had not gone far when the fire fight erupted between the Steel Spiders and the Bounty Hunter’s crew. Without a word between them they both got up and ran as fast as they could back to the relative safety of the Chigger’s Bar. Ian glanced back out on to the deck and could tell that Dyrke and the Spiders were making head way against their attackers. Looking around the bar it was empty, the last few patrons fleeing out the front door to escape the combat outside. Chigger waved them over.

“Take your old room Amber,” he glanced back at Ian. “It’s my hide if Dyrke catches you two here. Get up to that room and stay there until I give you the all clear.”

“Come on Ian. It’ll be OK.” Amber gave Ian a reassuring tug on his right arm to pull him up the stairs behind the bar. They stumbled to the last room on the right. Once they were inside Amber slid the door shut and pushed it slightly forward. “If this works right, it will look like just another panel in the wall outside.”

They could hear the staccato of the heavy stubber through the walls, but it was apparent that the battle was waning.

The wounded pair collapsed on the unmade bed, exhausted. Amber had a welt growing on her cheek, but Ian was in obvious pain and having to take shallow breaths in order to not agitate his probably broken ribs. Amber tried to take stock of his wounds but he waved her off, and she was too tired and sore to protest. They both drifted off to sleep.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Ian jolted awake to the sound of men and women screaming in the hall outside. The effort to stand made him catch his breath and pain stabbed through rib cage, but he readied himself to defend himself and Amber.

“Over here you thick headed sump spider.”

Turning around Ian saw Amber had pivoted the dresser out to reveal a dark chamber beyond. He hesitated a moment.

“Search all the rooms!” they both heard Boanerges bellow from the hallway.

That was all the encouragement Ian needed and he ducked into the small doorway. Amber quickly followed and pulled the dresser back into place with an attached cord. Once the dresser pulled tight darkness washed over them. They sat together in the darkness barely wanting to breathe lest they give themselves away.

A crash rumbled through the little door and they both instinctively shuffled back away from the door. Ian’s eyes had not quite adjusted to the complete darkness and he found himself wishing he had his visor with him now. It was then that he realized that neither he nor Amber had any of their kit. He fought the urge to panic.

Chigger’s voice boomed through the wall and door, “I told you they weren’t here Cacee! You didn’t have to go and bust down the door!

“It’s good for you that they aren’t Chigger,” came the familiar voice of the Spider Ian had once called friend.

Next followed a lot of shuffling of feet and whispers. Ian tried to press his ear against the door to hear what was going on. The shuffling lasted for a few minutes. Much longer than he had thought it should, especially thinking that once they did not find what they were looking for they would just leave. Finally the voices and the noises from the room beyond faded. Ian moved to try and push the door but Amber grasped his arm. Looking over she was shaking her head as if to say ‘not yet’. Ian nodded in acknowledgement and there they stayed. After fifteen minutes Amber pressed her shoulder against the door and it opened a few centimeters. She waited to see if anything responded from the room beyond. When nothing happened she opened it the rest of the way slowly.

From their hide the room looked turned upside down, and the once concealed door lay smashed and hanging from only one hinge. Looking around once more before they stepped back into the room memories flooded both their minds. Many a liaison between the two had been spent in this room after they had first met. Back then Ian believed their trysts to be out of bounds, he a member of the Spiders and House Van Saar, and she a member of the Black Cats and of House Escher.

“I don’t think we are going to be able to stay here much longer,” Ian said out loud.

Amber nodded her head in silent agreement. Ian moved to the smashed doorway to look down the now silent hallway that led back to the public room of the ‘Bifrost’. It was filled with debris and broken furniture, but no people. When Ian turned to signal that it was all clear Amber gasped.

“Look!” she said pointing to the bed.

Poking out from underneath the displaced mattress was the pommel of Amber’s sword. Ian helped her lift the mattress the rest of the way off. Underneath they found Ian’s tinkering and medical kit bag and Amber’s sword. Ian opened up his kit satchel to see what was in there. All of his basic tools that he had used on his workbench along with his basic medical supplies. Right on top of it all was a small bag with a few guilders and his visor.

“It’s not much, but better than nothing.”

Amber agreed. “Look, a note” she pointed to piece of paper sticking out from an interior pocket.

Ian, you saved my life once. Dyrke is on the warpath for your hide and for anyone who helps you. He’s taking us out towards the sump. I highly recommend you make a break for it once we leave. It will be best for everyone. This makes us even. ~ Cacee

Ian just stared at the slip of paper for several long moments. Cacee had been instrumental in bringing him into the Steel Spiders. How long had that been? Flashbacks of the battles and off duty times in the Bifrost ran through his mind.

A gentle hand from Amber on his arm brought Ian back to the here and now.

“Come on, we need to put some distance between ourselves and Dyrke, the further, the better.”

Ian nodded his head and shouldered his kit bag. Peering down the hallway from the edge of the doorway Ian tried to see down the stairs to see if any of the Spiders were in the common room. He couldn’t tell, so the pair crept down the hallway sticking close the wall. When they reached the top of the stairs they stopped to listen for a few more minutes. Only the regular clanking of stoneware and hum of indistinct chatter between patrons met their ears. With a silent glance between each other they started down the stairs and tried to look like any other couple returning from a tryst in the upper rooms. When they reached the bottom of the stairs the two hesitated long enough to look around the room. No spiders in sight.

“Psst! Ian”

The startled pair jumped where they stood. Ian spun around while Amber took a step slightly in front of Ian and readied her sword.

“Easy! Easy!”

From behind a small stage where acts came to entertain the patrons Chigger was waving them to follow him.

“Dyrke has taken the spiders out onto the bridge span. You won’t get far if you head out the front doors. Follow me.”

Behind the stage Chigger led them into an old utility room. In the floor was a metal trap door with a thick chain and padlock holding it in place.

“This leads to an old cable conduit that runs the span of the bridge to the far side of the Enforcer precinct. It’s how I get some of my goods past the tolls imposed by the Guilders. Not all of it, just the more lucrative items," he said with a grin.

“Thanks Chigger. We can’t repay you for this.”

“It’s alright kid. Maybe if it is ever safe enough for you to come back this way we can settle up.”

Ian nodded his thanks and looked down at the door.

“Before you go though, I want you to have this.”

Ian looked back up at the bartender. In the man’s hands was a slightly battered single barrel semi-automatic shotgun. This was a typical Van Saar model with a seamless hand grip and receiver that could be fed with either a small drum magazine, currently missing, or single rounds could be fed into a line feed below the barrel. The stock was folded up and over resting neatly on top of the receiver while still allowing the smooth discharge of spent shells from the chamber.

“The mag is full Ian. Sorry I don’t have any extra shells to hand you. Had to… well… leave the front in a hurry. Half a click out the other side you will run into a small Holestead. A prospector named Goreman. Tell him Chigger sent you and he will be able to point you in a safe direction.”

Reaching down he punched in five numbers into the keypad on the lock and it clicked open. He gently pulled the chain through the handrail and then opened the door.

“Now, get!”

Ian grabbed Chigger’s forearm and thanked him silently. Amber dropped down the dark hole and reached up to grab the shotgun to help Ian through as he winced from the pain in his ribs as he lowered himself down. Chigger wasted no time. As soon as Ian’s head cleared the hatch the door shut over them and they were swallowed up in darkness once again. Only a few of the old maintenance lights were still functional, but it was enough for them to find their way.

Amber and Ian glanced at each other.

"Let me take a look at that," Ian said reaching into his bag. Pulling out a noxious smelling ointment he rubbed it on Amber's swollen cheek. He then had her do the same to the welts on his face. It burned slightly and penetrated deeply. Once that was done she applied the ointment to the massive bruise now encompassing his ribcage and wrapped them up with the few strips of cloth they had. Once that was done he put away the remaining supplies.

“Well, come on… no time like the present.” Ian said. With that the pair headed off to their new life.

[Jakob 8] - Crossing Over

2011-03-07T18:00:00.003-05:00

The warm blanket of oblivion enveloped him for sometime before he saw it. A distant glow of light to which he felt himself irresistibly drawn. As he got closer he could see what looked to be a large comfortable dome, spacious and airy. It did not have the hard corners and bleak surfaces of Hive City. It looked exactly like how he imagined the Spire to be, filled with the soft glow of a natural light and actually foliage. Then individual faces became recognizable, a few faces from the Union Houses of House Van Saar – men and women he had worked with, even a brother whom he had not been all that close to. He was about to cross the threshold in to the dome when a voice from a distant memory spoke.

“Not so fast. You have more to do for me.”

Jakob spun around, turning his head frantically to finally see the voice that had driven him from his home, caused him to be hunted and eventually driven into exile, and then just when he thought he was starting a new life, to plummet into the Ash Wastes where a man drove a knife into his ribs. The that thought the pain came rushing back and he fought to breath. Instinctively he brought both of his hands to his side to hold back the blood from the wound. They were met with a warm sticky fluid. His eyes drawn to the site he looked down, but instead of a thick red fluid he saw a softly glowing blue sap dripping through his fingers.

“Emperor save me!” he cried out.

“There is no Emperor here. You do not need to search out the one I am sending to help you on your journey, he has already found you. Seek out the Skull. You will help him, and he will watch over you. Don’t forget what you have seen here.”

Jakob spun around again, more frantically this time. “Who are you?!?”

“Now go,” was the only response he got.

Immediately he began moving back the way he had come from where a blue light was now glowing. Turning around, back towards the warm glow he had first seen, he tried to run and gain the dome and the vision it held, but nothing he did gained him any ground towards what he desired most. Without pause he was launched through the blue portal. The blue light washed over him. He was weightless in a void. The light dimmed to black and the pain in his side intensified.

He began to cough uncontrollably and he thought he would drown in his own blood and bile that filled his mouth and throat. He tried but couldn’t find the strength to roll over to drain the obstructions. Something grabbed his shoulder and rolled him over away from the wounded side. The fluid in his throat caused even more coughing and vomiting but as it spewed out onto the ground and dribbled down his check into his hair and ear, he didn’t care. The fit spent he dropped his head into the self made muck. He was in too much pain and didn’t have the strength to do anything else.

A voice from over his right shoulder was speaking gently to him, but he couldn’t make out what it was saying. Shifting his weight back Jakob rolled over onto his back once more. The light was glaring. Slowly his eyes refocused.

In broken Low Gothic the voice spoke again, “You are … to be good. Be still… Râdîr,” the backlit figure said holding a hand to his chest. The face was cloaked in the deep shadow of a hood that now hung low. Looking closer Jakob could make out the outline of a canisterless nose and mouth respirator. The eyes were concealed behind a solid lens goggles that spanned from temple to temple. The hood was attached to a full length duster made of a heavy fabric, the color a close match to the angry Necromunda sky behind him. A dull grey metal pendant hung down from heavy chain around his neck. Even with his eyes fuzzy and his head ringing panic began to well up in him. “Nomad” was all he could think, and he was sure this man was going to finish him off.

He tried to cry out but found his throat still coated with acidic bile and only an unintelligible croak came forth.

“Ssh... ssh… ssh… stay still…”

His side began to get very warm and he realized the stranger was chanting now, and had put both hands over the wound. His mind raced with questions but the dark blanket descended on him before he could form the words.

[Jakob 7] - A Change in Plans

2010-07-16T18:00:00.004-05:00

“The mutt has to stay”, was all the Sergeant had to say on the matter. Jakob had been going back and forth with the stubborn man for twenty minutes and he was out of time. He had to hoof it fast if he was to meet Corporal Harkim as ordered.

“Coosh, sit.” The Cyber Mastiff did as it was told and planted its tail on the floor and looked up and Jakob waiting for the next command. Before his own attachment overwhelmed his common sense any further he squatted down and locked eyes with the constructs cameras that it used as eyes. He reached down to the collar and slid the locking mechanism that covered the power switch to prevent unintentional shut downs up and to the left. With a sigh he said, “sleep” and toggled the power switch simultaneously. He stayed squatted, looking into the constructs eyes until the light in the “eyes” faded to black and the gyros no longer made any sounds.

“Don’t worry kid. I’ll wipe its memory before I re-issue it out.”

“Thanks”, was all he could say as he turned and walked away.

It was not that he cared for the construct beyond a mechanical curiosity. It was a machine and nothing more. It did not care about him. As soon as it was turned on again it would just re-imprint itself with whoever happened to be sitting in front of it. So, why had he fought so hard to keep it?

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Jakob felt a blast of hot air and could hear the roar of the Valkyrie’s engines as soon as he entered the hanger. Corporal Harkim was at the end of the open ramp waving frantically for him to get on board. Jakob accelerated his pace jumped into the troop compartment. Eight other men in Enforcer armor glared up at him. They were already strapped in to five point harnesses awaiting take off. Turning around Jakob tried to ask Corporal Harkim where he was to sit, but the roar of the engines drowned out all of his attempts at communication.

Harkim stood to the side and depressed a button to close the rear hatch. No sooner than the latches locked the ramp in place the Valkyrie lurched up and forward causing Jakob to fall head first against the now closed ramp. He felt the warm blanket of unconsciousness wash over him as everything went dark.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

When he came back around Jakob could still hear the roar of the engines through the hull of the Airborne Assault Carrier. The right side of his head was throbbing, and when he reached his hand up to rub it, it came away wet with some blood. As he stared at his hand he noticed that it had dripped all the way down the front of his uniform.

“YOU CAN GET THAT LOOKED AT WHEN WE GET TO HIVE OCTAVIOUS!”

Jakob craned his neck to the right and forward to look around the harness now holding him in place.

“I’M SERGEANT HARKIM! I’M YOUR NEW PATROL SERGEANT! WELCOME TO THE TEAM!”

Jakob realized his new Sergeant was shouting over the dull roar permeating throughout the cabin. Instead of trying to shout over the noise himself Jakob just nodded and gave him the thumbs up sign.

“I TOOK THE LIBERTY OF DRAWING ALL OF YOUR EQUIPMENT! IT”S STOWED IN THE BACK!”

Craning just a little farther forward Jakob looked past the Sergeant to see a stack of duffel bags and footlockers strapped to the ramp door. He also noticed for the first time, a heavy frame crate containing a pristine Enforcer Construct secured to the floor in between the squad of men.

Jakob gave the Sergeant another thumbs up sign and sat back and let his head rest against the restraint. He looked around at the other Enforcers. Most of them ignored him, while two of them just shook their heads while they returned his gaze. It was obvious that he was the FNG. The last four weeks of Enforcer training is devoted to being introduced to your Patrol team members and new Sergeant. The time was dedicated to team building and getting to know one another. Jakob had bypassed that when Colonel Thios had fast tracked him and ordered him to report to Corp, er, Sergeant Harkim. He was going to have to start from scratch.

“WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR LAST HANDLER SERGEANT!” Jakob shouted to the Sergeant.

“TRAINING ACCIDENT!” The Sergeant shouted in reply. He thumbed over his shoulder towards the crate, “ THE RAZOR FANG TOOK HIS HAND CLEAN OFF! HAD TO SEND HIM TO MEDICAL, AND WE COULDN’T WAIT FOR HIM!”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN, TOOK HIS HAND OFF!?!” Jakob was a little alarmed.

“I MEAN THAT THING JUST SNAPPED ITS JAWS AROUND THE MAN’S WRIST AND REMOVED IT! DAMNDEST THING I EVER SAW!”

Jakob realized the two men who had been shaking their head earlier were now chuckling softly. Glancing back at the crate, Jakob wondered what had caused the construct to malfunction, or was it an error on the handlers part?

BWONG!!

A loud metallic echo reverberated around the cabin and Jakob felt the Carrier lurch to the left. Before he could figure out what was going on the cabin lights all turned to red.

When Jakob leaned forward to ask Sergeant Harkim what the hell was going on the man just waved his left hand at him to get him to shut up, while holding his right to the ear piece in his helmet.

“BRACE FOR IMPACT! WE”RE GOIN’ DOWN! PREPARE FOR CONTACT ONCE WE ARE ON THE GROUND!

A hundred questions sprang to Jakob’s mind all at once. Going down? We are out over the Wastes aren’t we? How far out are we?

Jakob could feel the Assault Carrier slowly rolling over to the left. At least it felt like it was. It was impossible to tell in the windowless cabin. All he had to go on where his own senses, but they were definitely going down.

The Valkyrie hit hard on its left side causing Jackob's head slam into the headrest. The assault carrier somersaulted several times before it came to a rest on its roof. As it came to a stop industrial resins and dust that make up the Ash Wastes rushed in from the now rent troop hatch in the rear.

Coughing and movement could be heard in other parts of the cabin, but Jakob could not tell how many were now working to free themselves. His mind and body were working in slow motion to get himself free. It took both of his hands pulling up and away on the latch on his chest to open up the harness that held him in place. Before he remembered that he was hanging upside down the unceremonial collapse on the ceiling reminded him.

Righting himself he heard a muffled call for help to his left. Moving on all fours he crawled until he found the bulkhead separating the troop hold and the crew cabin. Reaching up through the dust Jakob fumbled with the inverted door latch to get it open. When he finally got it to release one of the crew stumbled into him knocking him off his knees, and then rushed on past without another word.

“Your welcome,” Jakob thought to himself and followed along as fast as he could.

The air thinned out significantly the closer he got to the troop hatch, but it wasn’t much easier to breathe than the dust further in. It smelled of formaldehyde mixed with bleach, and about as easy on the throat as it was on his nostrils. Just as panic was setting in he remembered that the Sergeant had stowed his equipment in duffel bags strapped to the now broken door. Fortunately several of the bags had ripped open dumping the gear into the wastes that had spilled through the gaps. Unfortunately it was all intermixed. Jakob plowed through the mess until he found a full face respirator. Without a second thought he threw the straps over his head and secured it in place. With that finally accomplished he sat back on his rump and concentrated on breathing for a minute.

Not too distant shouts drew him back to the here and now. Suddenly an explosion against the hull of the Valkyrie rocked his world. Afterwards the sounds of sporadic gun fire both near and far told him he had better get moving.

Rummaging through the spilled equipment he couldn’t find a single weapon. As the gunfire grew more urgent he gave up searching for a side arm and instead turned his attention to the crated up Cyber Mastiff that was now lying on its side.

He started in with his bare hands. These were ineffective, doing nothing more than causing a few splinters to shoot up under his fingernails as he scratched at the edges. Frantically he spun around to renew his search through the pile of gear. As he turned his eyes caught a glimpse of a discarded Power Maul in the ash. Reaching down to pick it up he noticed the troop harness closest to the door. The Enforcer never made it clear. His head was slumped forward and his hands still grasped a steel rod that pinned him to his seat through his lower abdomen.

Jakob winced, but didn’t hesitate. He secured the Power Maul on his belt and then, with both hands, grabbed the pole and began to tug it free. On the fourth yank it came free. Jakob nodded his head in thanks towards the corpse and then turned back to the crate.

Using the bar like a spear Jakob began striking at the crate where pieces of wood came together. Splinters chipped off with each strike. Whenever the bar did not immediately pull free Jakob would pry back and forth trying to find enough leverage to split the seam.

Sweat started dripping from his faceand collecting around his chin inside his respirator. Finally he managed to get one complete side of the crate open. He had to tug several times in order to get the seventy five kilogram construct free from its packaging.

The Cyber Mastiff was heavy, and hard to maneuver, but he got it to sit up right, just like it was sitting down on its hind quarters. As he unlocked the sliding door to the recessed power switch Jakob heard a man cry out very close by. There wasn’t enough time. Securing the bar like a spear in his left hand, he reached down and snatched up the power maul and activated it. He wasn’t going to go out with a fight. With determination on his face he stepped out into the ash wastes.

Jakob’s nerves nearly faltered as he stepped into the wastes. It was brighter than he had anticipated, and the sounds of battle were all around him. Holding his right hand up he shielded his eyes from the unexpected glare. Pieces of the Valkyrie were strewn all around. Sergeant Harkim had taken cover behind a torn off engine and was returning fire out into the wastes. Jakob closed the distance with his Sergeant and took cover next to him.

“Where’s your Mastiff Enforcer?”

Jakob looked across to his Sergeant and was about to answer when a man emerged from around the engine yelling at the top of his lungs, a massive bar with a block a ferrocrette attached to the end of it held over his head with both hands poised to plummet down on top of Jakob’s head.

“BLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBLAMBALM!!!”

Jakob’s ears were now ringing from the sonic booms of his Sergeant’s Bolt Pistol being emptied while held less than a meter from the side of his head. The monster of a man dropped into the wastes with several gaping wounds to his chest and stomach.

“Where’s your Combat Shotgun!?! You’re no use to me here! Get back to the weapons locker on the Valkerie on the double! I don’t want to see you again unless you’ve got a real weapon in your hand dammit!”

Jakob moved the apparently useless power maul to his left hand where he also clutched the equally ineffective improvised spear, and then shifted his weight to make a dash back to the downed transport. As soon as he perceived a lull in the incoming fire he took off at full speed.

CRACK!

Just as Jakob got within two meters of the shuttle a bolt of static-lightning arced from the chemical clouds above and struck the metal bar in his right hand, it then arced over to the hull of the inverted shuttle where it completed its circuit to the ground. Instantly every muscle in Jakob’s body contracted, this along with the rapidly expanding ozone around the electrical arc launched his body the twenty meters back to the dislodged engine.

For several moments Jakob sat there with the world moving in slow motion. Every nerve ending in his body tingled, and he could see smoke wafting up from all four of his limbs. His mind had not fully grasped what had just happened when a Combat Shotgun was thrust into his field of view. Looking up one of the other survivors was shoving his personal shotgun and bandolier of ammunition into Jakob’s lap.

“I want it back when this is all over.” Was all the man said as Jakob took the offered weapon. With that done the survivor ran back across an open stretch of ground to another piece of debris.

Looking around, things were not going well. He counted three other survivors returning fire from an as yet undetermined number of enemies.

“Shoot you fool!”

Jakob turned and saw Sergeant Harkim looking over his shoulder at him. Jakob glanced down at the shotgun, and then out into the wastes. Everything had a blue hue to it. Without warning the Sergeant grabbed Jakob by the collar and shoved him into the ash behind the engine.

“Now shoot dammit, or the next person I kill will be you!”

Jakob peered through the smoke and dust, but still couldn’t see anyone. Without thinking he braced the shotgun across the engine and sent two rounds out into the waste. He didn’t expect to hit anything, but at least the Sergeant would think he was doing his duty.

“That’s more like it!” Sergeant Harkim said behind him.

Suddenly Jakob felt the presence of something behind him. Whirling around he saw a nomad with a vicious looking knife that had a blade both above and below the grip poised to strike his now kneeling Sergeant, who was unaware of his impending doom as he reloaded his bolt pistol.

Jakob reacted instinctively. Using the butt stock of his borrowed shotgun he knocked the kill strike harmlessly away from his Sergeant. The Nomad then turned his attention to his new opponent.

The nomad became a whirlwind with the knife. Jakob could not put any distance between himself and his attacker in order to bring his shotgun to bear. Slowly the nomad pushed him across the wastes towards the downed shuttle. Finally Jakob’s back made contact with the hull of the ship. In desperation Jakob performed an uppercut move with the butt of the shotgun, connecting with the man’s chin, sending him tumbling backwards into the wastes where he landed like a rag.

Jakob stepped forward to gloat over his prize when an awareness of something coming from his right interrupted him. Turning to the side his eyes caught a glimpse of yet another nomad, just before he landed a vicious haymaker into Jakob’s cheek. He had used the iron knuckle grip of his own double bladed knife. Jakob’s head spun quickly back to the left from the impact to the side of his face. His body quickly followed. All sense of up and down quickly left him, but before he lost his footing complete Jakob both heard and felt the shots from the man’s second weapon – a customized heavy caliber semi-automatic pistol held in his right hand. Jakob staggered under the assault, but managed to turn and face his opponent. Sluggishly he raised his arms up to bring the shotgun to bear.

“You hive maggot. You’ve got no place out here. We own the wastes of Necromunda!”

The nomad thrust his double bladed knife into Jakob’s side to emphasize his point. Jakob wanted to cry out in pain but found that he couldn’t catch his breath enough to scream. When the nomad pulled his blade back free Jakob no longer had the strength to stand and sank to his knees. The taste of metal filled his mouth. As the world faded to black he was wondering why he had ever listened to that voice in his head.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

[Jakob 6] - Indoctrinations

2010-05-06T09:33:00.001-05:00

“Ok, now, depress the toggle button located just below the collar, one time.”

Jakob looked nervously around the room and was met by return looks from his fellow Enforcer students. The nine men and three women had been segregated from the rest of the trainees to specialize in the handling of the Enforcer’s robotic dog construct, usually more affectionately known as a Cyber Mastiff or Razor Fangs. This had been the first time anyone had been able to actually put hands on the system and after hours of briefings of just how specialized this piece of equipment truly was, no one was sure just exactly what would happen once the construct had been activated. Jakob took a silent breath and then depressed the button as instructed. As soon as the button clicked Jakob heard the internal gyros begin to hum softly as they accelerated to operating speed.

“For the first fifteen seconds after activation the system is identifying you as the owner, so it is important to remember to chant the litany of operations until the system is fully functional.”

A sound that could only be described as a deep bass-like rumble of grinding machinery began to emit from the throat of a now standing and alert Cyber Mastiff. Before now, the only time Jakob had encountered these machines was when he would come across the security teams performing sweeps through the factory his father operated for house Van Saar. In every encounter he vividly remembered the throaty metallic rumble and his own fear paralyzing voluntary thought and muscle control of his body. Jakob tried his best to not look like he was scared now, and then wondered if the thing even cared.

“Once the construct has imprinted itself with your signature it will only take orders from you. Go ahead; speak to it so it can register your individual voice patterns.”

For several long moments Jakob starred at the razor sharp teeth. ‘What in the world do you say to a machine that is designed to tear your throat out’?

“Sit”, was all that came to mind.

The razor sharp teeth and jaws, which had been slightly ajar to this point, snapped shut and the rear legs folded up placing the hind quarters firmly on the ground. The construct’s back was ramrod straight, the metallic ears fully extended forward, and the head dropped to a thirty five degree angle to the right.

“If you graduate you will be assigned a brand new construct. It would behoove you to activate and imprint your unit as soon as practical.”

For the next several days Jakob and the other trainees where trained not only how to control the Cyber Mastiff, but how to completely disassemble and rebuild it. Four of the others had washed out before the end of this phase of the training. They were unable to keep up and understand the ancient technology. A lifetime of his father’s harping and chastisement while he was growing up had finally paid off. While he found himself chaffing at the Enginseer’s constant references to the Machine Cult of Mars, he knew enough from the Van Saar indoctrinations to ensure he could manipulate the technology well enough to pass the tests.

After the two weeks of “bench time”, the Enginseer instructor moved the eight remaining trainees to the field work portion of the training. Here the handlers learned how to put the Cyber Mastiff through its paces. From simple commands like heal, sit and stay, to the more complex such as attack and search. With each passing day Jakob grew more proficient, but there was always uneasiness just below the surface. Something he couldn’t quite put a finger on.

As Jakob left the final exam for becoming a Cyber Mastiff handler he saw a bounty hunter leave the Commandant’s office. While bounty hunters came and went around Enforcers, he had not seen any around the training area since he had started.

“Maybe one of the guys are running from the law,” he thought to himself,

“Jakob! Report to the Commandant’s office!”

“Oh yea, that’s me.” He thought glumly as he jogged over to the officer that had called him.

Commandant Thios sized up his recruit as he approached. The kid was smart, top in the Cyber Handler classes and often called to assist the instructor with the other students, but the news Kronus had just brought him could spell trouble for the lad.

“Step into my office. Leave the mutt outside.”

“Coosh, sit.”

Jakob watched the construct spin around and plant its metal rear end with a metallic tink just outside of the Commandant’s door. As he entered the office he marched straight to the worn spot on the carpet across the desk from the officer’s chair.

“Do you know why you are here Cadet?”

“No sir,” was all Jakob said. He fidgeted with his fingers, and his eyes were wondering around as he tried to anticipate what was coming next.

“Just had a visit from an old friend,” the Enforcer officer said as he thumbed towards the door. “He brought me an interesting tale of a Van Saar guild member searching for his son. He seems to think that he has joined up with the Enforcers. Do you know anything about that son?”

Jakob stood transfixed for several moments. He could feel the sweat dripping down his lower back and was sure that his brow was growing damp as well. In the end he decided to just admit to being the one he was talking about.

“Commandant Thios, I… that is… Sir, I had headed downhive without my Father’s permission. I am the youngest of… well, I have a lot of brothers and sisters… and my mother doesn’t know about all of them… Sir. When I left the last thing I expected was for my family to come looking for me.”

“Settle down Cadet. I’m not going to just hand you over. You are a part of Lord Helmawr’s family now. You are a member of his Enforcer’s now.”

Jakob’s mind was beginning to drift, too many things going on. What was Colonel Thios getting at? If he was being sent back, could he make his escape?

Seeing the tension in his cadet’s face he stood up and came around to the front of the desk and sat down on the edge of it. From this position his face was lit up by a rare, and very expensive, fiber optic sunlight that actually threaded its way to the edge of the hive above the cloud layer to channel light into the room.

“Son, you have been a very good student here, and though your papa might have some clout in Hive City, that does not extend to the Spires above. Just say the word and I ensure you will be beyond your father’s reach forever.”

Jakob’s mind snapped back to the here and now. “Sir, I really don’t want to go back.”

“Done,” Colonel Thios had said before Jakob even fully formed the words. “You are to report to Corporal Harkim for transport to Hive: Octundus.”

“Yes sir.” Was all Jakob said as he saluted and then spun on his heels to leave.

“Welcome to the force Enforcer.”

Jakob nodded his thanks and left the office. Just outside he paused for a moment and thought about heading back to his bunk. There was nothing there he cared to keep, or that couldn’t be readily replaced.

“Coosh, come,” he said to his construct and left to meet with the Supply Sergeant, and then to catch his ride to his new home.

[Jakob 5] - Fit for Duty

2010-03-29T15:17:00.003-05:00

“There he is! Come on Brothers; let us teach this heretic a lesson!”

Ian and Jakob turned around. Fifty meters down the road, between themselves and the Bifröst stood three Cawdor gangers. Jakob had nothing but a knife on him. Ian was not much better off with just his las-pistol on his hip having left his hot-shot lasgun, with the rest of his travel kit, in the medical bay.

Among the three Cawdor Ian could make out a shotgun in the hands of one of them, while the other two had auto-pistols in hand. Ian drew his laspistol and stepped in between Jakob and the approaching zealots. He snapped off a shot hoping to cause them to hesitate more than anything else, all the while he was pushing Jakob to a narrow alleyway. If there wasn’t a way out on the other end, at least the Cawdor would have to approach single file.

They were in luck, the alley was wide enough for the two walk in a staggered line. That is if the ground hadn’t been strewn with large chunks of debris. As it was they had to walk single file down the length with plenty of cover and it opened up onto a parallel street.

As Ian neared the far end of the alley from where they entered he let loose several shots down the lane back the way they had come to keep his pursuers honest. As he was distracted looking and shooting to the rear he ran headlong into the back of Jakob, this knocked both of them sprawling to the alley floor.

“What in blazes…!”

“Ssh,” Jakob hushed Ian and pointed towards the opening to their front. “There’s one of them up ahead, waiting just around the corner.”

“How could you possibly…?”

“SSSH!” Jakob said, this time placing his hand over the ganger’s mouth. It was then that Ian noticed that Jakob’s eyes had a tint of blue glowing from them. He just nodded his head.

Jakob closed his eyes as he got slowly to his feet. Ian noticed that Jakob’s eyelids were not containing the blue light as it began to get brighter. Jakob began to cup his hands together, like he was playing with a small ball. It reminded Ian of “Bomb Toss”, a game he and his friends played as kids. It was supposed to be like throwing grenades into buckets, but only with rocks or balls.

Jakob cocked his right hand back, and then let loose, just like he was tossing a real grenade. A half meter out a small yellow orb appeared out of nowhere and flew along the arc towards the end of the alley. When it impacted the ground just beyond the edge of the alley it flared up like a miniature sun. There was at least one cry of pain from around the corner. If it weren’t for the photo-visor Ian always wore he was sure it would have blinded him.

“Come on! We have to make our break for it.” Jakob said as pulled Ian to his feet and then bolted for the street.

“How did you… What was that?!?” Ian cried as he jumped to his feet and followed. When he reached the street he looked to his right and there was a single Cawdor ganger on his knees with both palms rubbing his eyes, a shotgun lay on the ground next to him. That would have been a nasty surprise to be sure.

“How did you…?”

“I don’t know,” was all that Jakob would say on the matter.

The two continued to run as straight as they could to the Enforcer Precinct House. When they got within one hundred meters of the gate the shouting from their Cawdor pursuers picked up again. This time however a quick burst from a heavy bolter within a turret adjacent to an armored gate silenced them and sent the zealots scurrying for cover.

When they got to the gate a shuttered slot at eye level slid open.

“Speak your business citizen,” came an unemotional voice from within.

“I want to join the Enforcers,” Jakob replied. Ian just stood there with his las pistol in hand looking back the way they had come.

Silence greeted them. Jakob was just about to speak up again when they heard heavy locks disengaging. When that was done a door shaped portico within the left half of the heavy gate swung outward and then up on heavy hydraulic pistons. Three men clad in black carapace armor swarmed out into the street. The first was armed with a flamer, the pilot light at the end of the nozzle hissed loudly as he ran past them and set up on their left. The second Enforcer followed out the door wielded a sleek combat shotgun, which he cocked as he moved past and to their right. The third one had three blue chevrons painted on the right chest plate, and left shoulder pad of his armor. On his right hip he wore a standard issue Bolt Pistol and on his left hung a tethered power maul.

As the Sergeant stepped forward he thrust his left hand forward, “weapons!” Was all the helmeted man said. Ian hesitated for a moment and before he could think about it any further the Sergeant swept his armored leg from left to right, knocking both of Ian’s feet out from under him. Ian starred into the blackness of the dome above as he somersaulted and landed heavily on his back. This knocked the wind out of him. Before he could recover his breath or his wits, the Sergeant snatched the las pistol out of his hand. Turning to look back at Jakob he said, “So, you want to join Lord Helmawr’s Enforcers, eh?”

Jakob looked from his disarmed companion on the ground back to the Enforcer Sergeant and nodded.

“Yes sir, I definitely do.”

“Very well, you two come with me.”

Before Ian could catch his breath to say that he wasn’t there to join up, the shotgun Enforcer scooped him up and half dragged, half threw him through the doorway behind the Sergeant and Jakob.

It took Ian a good ten meters to get his feet back under him, and even then he was practically running to keep pace with the Enforcers. The five meter wide hallway was immaculate. The floor and walls were seamlessly poured ferrocrette, every five meters hung dim lumination assemblies that cast the light only downward, leaving the area above in shadow. Heavy footsteps of the Enforcers echoed loudly off the walls as they walked. Thirty meters down the hallway ended at another massive armored gate, on the right stood an open portico similar to that at the entrance way. As the last of the five men entered the room the armored door slid shut behind him.

“Sit,” the Sergeant said firmly, apparently for Jakob and Ian since neither of the other two Enforcers moved to take a seat.

In the center of the room was a plain 2 meter by 5 meter metal table. Around the table were ten metal chairs. Both the table, and the chairs, were bolted to the floor. Jakob and Ian sat next to each other along one of the sides.

“I’m not…” Ian tried to protest.

“Silence. You will speak only when spoken too citizen.”

“But I…”

“I said silence, unless you wish to be silenced.”

Ian snapped his mouth shut and glanced quickly at the other officers. Neither had moved other than a slightly perceptible tightening and loosening of their facial and neck muscles.

“I need to know what business those Cawdor would have with you, and why in your flight from them you suddenly decided that you wished to join Lord Helmawr’s Enforcers.” The Sergeant turned his gaze from Ian to Jakob.

Jakob glanced at Ian, unsure if that was a question or a statement.

“Speak!”

The Sergeant raised his voice for the first time and it startled both Van Saar men.

“Um…,” Jakob said as he cleared his throat. “I don’t have any business with them. They just decided that I was a heretic because I wouldn’t join up with them. I was already on my way here Enfor… I mean Si… um, Sergeant.” Jakob managed to sit still despite the fact his racing heart threatened to break free from his chest at any moment.

“And you?” The Sergeant said turning his attention back to Ian.

Ian nervously shifted in his seat. “As I was trying to say earlier, I am not here to join up. Jakob here is a friend of mine, and I was trying to talk him out of it. I think he should join up with me and my gang instead.”

The Enforcer with the Shotgun snorted. When he did so, the Sergeant turned his head to look at him over his shoulder, the Enforcer composed himself and was silent once more. Turning his back forward the Sergeant leaned in, “then your business here is concluded.” He stepped back and motioned towards the door that they had entered through.

Ian stood and turned to Jakob, “It was good knowing you Jakob. Take care of yourself.”

Jakob stood and the two reached out and gripped each other’s forearm firmly.

“You too Ian.”

With that Ian left the room followed by the shotgun Enforcer. When Ian reached the front gate the Enforcer handed him his las pistol and the armored door swung up and away. With a nod of thanks Ian stepped through to the street beyond. Without a word from the Enforcer the door swung down and shut. Ian could hear the heavy bolt locks sliding into place.

Looking down the causeway back towards the Bifröst there were no signs of the Cawdor who had chased them. Ian glanced up at the small fortress poised at the edge of the bridge that led to the Under Hive, its cold hard walls giving no indication that it cared he was even there, and then turned to head back to his home.

When Ian was out of range of the armored heavy bolters of the Enforcer’s Precinct House a lone Cawdor stepped from the shadows causing him to whip his pistol from its holster.

“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead already Van Saar. Just know this, best purge yourself from the taint of the one you left behind lest the judgment of the almighty Emperor befall you.”

And with that the Cawdor ganger turned and walked away leaving Ian to his thoughts.

“I am going to have a devil of a time explaining this to Dyrke…”

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Jakob sat on the end of the bunk he had been assigned after he had informed the Enforcer Sergeant that he had wanted to enlist in Lord Helmawr’s police force. Since then he had been their guest, a neglected guest, but a guest nonetheless. The only one who had spoken to him during his stay thus far had been the Sergeant. He had introduced himself as Cornelius.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” the Sergeant had asked him the morning after Ian had left. Jakob had answered that he was, but at the time he had some doubt. As time when on his resolve had become much more resolute. All that had awaited him back home was a father who never intimated he was good enough and siblings who had ostracized him. No, he was sure that he did indeed want to become an Enforcer.

“Come on, time to see if you have what it takes.”

Broken from his reverie Jakob acknowledged the Sergeant and quickly followed him out into the hall.

“Am I leaving for training now?” Jakob asked.

The Enforcer Sergeant spoke over his shoulder as he led him down the hallway. “Not yet. We have to see if there are any ghosts in your closet. We want to know if you are hiding anything, or if there is anything we need to know about first.”

“What do you mean?” Jakob began to get nervous. When the Sergeant didn’t reply Jakob’s heart began to pound harder in his chest.

The two walked on in silence through several more hallways until they came back to the same room Jakob had first met Sergeant Cornelius and the other Enforcers. The Sergeant stood to the side of the doorway and motioned for Jakob to enter. As Jakob neared the door the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, he hesitated half a second and then stepped through the doorway. As Jakob he did, a man dressed in the traditional issue black clothing of the Enforcers, minus the armor, with a black cowl and a two meter long black staff adorned with Lord Helmawr’s heraldry, stood and greet him.

“Mr. Vaultier? A pleasure I am sure.”

Jakob stopped and looked back at the Enforcer Sergeant who was already closing the heavy door behind him, leaving Jakob alone with the man.

“Please, have a seat.”

Jakob hesitated.

“Come now, I am not here to harm you. This is just an informal interview. Lord Helmawr is rather… selective of the men who enter his police force. There is no room for those with impure hearts or minds in the service to the Spire.”

Jakob felt the tingling sensation begin to well up within him; he closed his eyes taut in an attempt to keep any changes there a secret from the man. When the sensation subsided Jakob looked back up to see an intrigued expression on the man’s face.

The man then closed his own eyes and began uttering something in a language that Jakob was unfamiliar with. The man’s began to glow purple as he raised the staff in his left hand, and when he reopened his eyes Jakob felt a warm sensation wash over him from the soles of his feet to the very roots of his hair on the top of his head. He was powerless to resist it, and he didn’t try. Jakob could tell that his mind was being completely inspected. He knew that his secret wasn’t going to remain a secret for much longer.

The man then closed his own eyes and began uttering something in a language that Jakob was unfamiliar with. The man’s began to glow purple as he raised the staff in his left hand, and when he reopened his eyes Jakob felt a warm sensation wash over him from the soles of his feet to the very roots of his hair on the top of his head. He was powerless to resist it, and he didn’t try. Jakob could tell that his mind was being completely inspected. He knew that his secret wasn’t going to remain a secret for much longer.

As the sensation faded the man opened his eyes. For several long minutes he appraised Jakob, his eyes moving back and forth, up and down, trying to discern something.

“Mr. Vaultier, when you first walked in, I would have said that you had the aura of an unsanctioned Psyker, which if I had been able to confirm, your life would have been forfeit here and now. But as it stands, we can continue our little chat.”

Jakob was unsure of what to say. While he knew there had been a chance he would be found out, he had not considered it would be so soon. What intrigued him more was why it was still a secret now.

Jakob was unsure of what to say. While he knew there had been a chance he would be found out, he had not considered it would be so soon. What intrigued him more was why it was still a secret now.

Jakob wanted more than anything to avert his eyes from the penetrating gaze of the Enforcer Psyker, but he forced himself to keep them locked on the purple irises of his interrogator.

For several hours, long past Jakob had been able to keep track, the interview continued. The pair sparred back and forth. The hooded Enforcer would dance around the subject of why he was joining the Enforcers, the possibility of Jakob being truly tainted by the warp, his family, even his questionable hygiene. Jakob was wearing down and just as he was about to give in and confess the whole deal about fleeing the long reach of his father and his possessing the powers of the Warp his interrogator stood up, a warm smile upon his face. It was then that Jakob noticed the tingling sensation permeating across his entire body, even through his brain, and it was fading. He felt utterly exhausted.

“Congratulations Mr. Vaultier. You have passed the first test and you are on your way to a glorious life spent in the service of Lord Helmawr.”

As the man began to leave the room he turned and said, “Remember, no one is above suspicion”, and with that he left the room, leaving Jakob to try and gather the strength to stand up.

[Ian 30 / Jakob 4] Decision Gate

2010-03-04T15:02:00.002-05:00

“Dyrke, you should reconsider this.”

Ian had been trying to convince the leader of the Steel Spiders for over an hour to take Jakob in instead of taking him home for the bounty. He was getting nowhere.

“His family is not going to just let it go. They have a pretty hefty bounty on his head to bring him back home.”

“Yea, but we….”

“You just don’t get it kid. He’s going back, and we leave in the morning.”

Ian knew when he had been dismissed and to try and continue the argument any further would only invite a collection run to the chemical pools. Nasty work. Without knowing where else to go he headed back to his workbench. At least there he could clear his head and focus on something else.

“I appreciate you sticking up for me like that.”

Ian nearly walked headlong into Jakob as he rounded the corner outside Dyrke's quarters.

“What… oh that. Well, the ability to just touch someone and heal them like that….”

“Yea, about that… You didn’t mention that to Dyrke did you?”

“No… people with that kind of ability tend to…”

“Yea… well, I don’t think it’s a good idea to go back home. My father is a little set in his ways. I’ve been searching for something for a long time, and well… he doesn’t approve. He feels that my time would be better spent in the office.”

“Well, I can tell you that Dyrke is pretty set in his ways too. He means to take you back to your family tomorrow, and I am pretty sure it is not going to matter to him if you go willingly or not.”

“I can’t go back Ian.”

The two Van Saar youths stood staring aimlessly at each other trying to gauge what the other one was thinking, and trying to figure out what to do. Finally Ian spoke up again.

“If you take off the Cawdor are likely to find you again. Even if they don’t, some bounty hunter looking to collect on the reward your family set up will. And if word ever gets out about your little… ‘gift’… you will have even worse things to think about.”

Jakob considered this for a moment. “Then I need to go to the one place nobody will thing of, and yet be able to be in plain sight.”

Ian snorted, “where in all of Hive: Primus could that possibly be?”

Jakob got a big grin on his face, “They will never find me there.” He said out loud to himself.

“Where?”

“Come on, I think I saw where up on the deck of the bridge.”

Ian followed only because his own curiosity got the better of him. The pair climbed the ladders back up to the Bifröst, and then out onto the deck of the massive bridge that was once a part of an interdome commuting connector. Instead of heading towards Hive City like Ian thought was his intention, they headed to the far end, the one closest to the Underhive.

“I thought you said you were going to try and hide in plain sight.” Ian said as he put a hand on Jakob’s shoulder and spun him around.

“Oh, I am. It’s ingenious! Where I am going is right over there.”

Ian followed Jakob’s arm to where he was pointing. “I’m not sure that would be the best course of action. If anyone suspected that you’re a Wyrd… the Enforcers will most likely be the ones to come and get you.”

“Yea, but how closely do they look at themselves?”

[Ian - 29 / Jakob - 3] A Brush with Death

2010-02-19T23:52:00.002-05:00

Once Ian had cleaned himself up he climbed up the three levels to the Bifröst’s deck level. Although he felt better on the outside after his chem-shower, he needed to get something to eat and then to climb into his rack for a couple of shift cycles to shake the fatigue he felt throughout his body.

Ian waved down the length of the bar to get the barkeeps attention, “Chigger! I need a couple of “rats-on-a-spit” and a nice tall glass of water!”

The barkeep nodded his head in acknowledgement and put down the metallic cup his was cleaning with his shirt. Ian settled into the barstool at the Spider’s end of the bar. From here he could scope out the main room of the Bifröst. He was hoping to catch a glimpse of Amber. It had been over a week since he had held her in his arms.

“Come to think of it,” Ian said to himself, “where is everybody else?”

“Here ya are kid” Chigger said as he set the food and drink down in front of the Van Saar medic and tinkerer.

Ian spun back around and dived into his meal. It wasn’t gourmet, but it sure beat the synth-soy crap most down hivers had to scrape by on. Besides, the faster you got it into your gullet, the less you had to think about it. Once he had shoved the last bite into his mouth he leaned back to look up at the monitors showing one of the closed circuit channels of rat races the local Guilders ran. The rodents for the next race were being shown on screen and Ian leaned back to get a better view.

“Hey Chigger! Put me down for ten guilders on number 4!”

The barman nodded in Ian’s direction and turned and scribbled on a data slate under the counter. Once his bet was secured Ian leaned back to get a better view of the dingy screen above the bar. If nothing else it would provide a nice diversion until Amber returned from whatever errands Dyrke had her running.

Before the race could start several factory workers from nearby Hive City came stumbling in to the front room of the Bifröst. The front rank got pushed to the floor as several ranks behind them continue to surge further in.

“Cash only!” Chigger yelled from behind the bar. At the voice of their boss, and owner of the bar, several Goliath bouncers moved to evict the new trespassers.

“They’re about to start killin’ each other out there!” One of the denizens said as he climbed out from under the tangle of bodies now on the floor.

“Who’s trying to kill each other?” the barman called back.

“Some Escher gang calling themselves ‘The Black Cats’ or somethin.”

That caught Ian’s attention and he turned to face the crowd. “Who are they facing off against?” He asked as he moved up to face the now defacto leader of the mob.

The man looked nervous and glanced at one of his compatriots as if to see what he should say. “A bunch of lads and a lass dressed a whole lot like you.” He stuttered.

Ian moved back and forth to look for a way around the throng of humans now crowding the front door of the bar. There was no time to run back to his hab to grab his lasgun. He’d have to make do with his las pistol there on his hip. Before he could find a path through the distinct sound of gun fire began echoing off the surrounding area outside. This caused two things to happen simultaneously.

The first was that the mob of civilian factory workers began to panic and surge forward further into the Bifröst. The second was that the surge met the four Goliath bouncers blocking any further progress. The resulting melee prevented Ian from making any more progress through the front door. Seeing his way blocked he took off running for the backroom where Chigger had a door to the back alley.

Once he cleared the back door he made a sharp right to get back to the street in front of the pub. Several more bystanders were huddled behind whatever cover they could find. The gun battle was in full force. Just as Ian broke from the alleyway a huge explosion knocked him back, flat on to his rear end.

Once he had shook his head clear he jumped back to his feet and raced back out into the street. By now it was mostly deserted. Hargrave and Xander were blasting away at two retreating Esher. There were two more of the scantily clad women sprawled out in the street in the direction the other two had fled. It was then he caught a glimpse of a tri-color body suit piled in a heap. He ran to the body.

As drew near Ian immediately recognized the victim. There was a pool of blood underneath the head, with long strands of red hair covering both her face and whatever the injury was. Amber’s body-glove was shredded and fresh cuts were bleeding everywhere. He saw her chest moving slightly so she was still alive, but it was impossible to tell just how injured she really was. While supporting her head he slowly rolled her onto her back, her thick locks were matted thickly with blood and dirt from the street. As he rolled her over it covered her face, but he was too distracted by all of the wounds covering her arms, legs, and body. He began with her torso. Each wound he examined was superficial. There might be a couple of new scars, but nothing deep enough to warrant further attention for now. Next he examined her arms and legs. Same results and he began to breathe easier. Perhaps the concussion of whatever it was that caused the explosion merely knocked her senseless.

Gently he began to move the hair from his love’s face. It was then he discovered the source of all of the blood. Her right eye was completely missing with the tissue beyond clearly visible and ripped to shreds. The bone was pulverized and she was still bleeding profusely. He swallowed hard the panic that quickly rose into his throat and scooped her up in his arms.

Without calling to the other Steel Spiders he ran back down the alley to the back entrance. He did not have a lot of time, and was not willing to try the front door to the Bifröst. He kicked open the back door and rushed through the common room to the Spider’s private entrance. By the time he had made it to the ladders Renny was there to help him get her back down the three levels to the where the sanatorium was.

When he burst through the curtains that made up the door to his work/hab space the kid he and the other Spider’s rescued sat up. Seeing that Ian had a wounded person in his arms the kid cleared off the table closest to the doorway. Between the three men they gently laid Amber down. With his hands now free he immediately picked up sanitizer and clean rags to dress the gaping wound. Next he picked out what little stims he had available. There was no way he was going to save her eye (he wasn’t even sure where it was), but he might be able to save her life. Once he was satisfied that he had done everything he could for her face and head he moved on to cleaning out the less serious injuries that covered most of the rest of her body. He had to keep his mind completely clear so that he could focus on the tasks at hand.

As he finished stitching up a pretty deep cut on her left thigh he felt Renny smacking his right arm with the back of his left hand. Ian’s eyes followed his friends hand up his arm to his shoulder and then his face. Renny was staring at something across the table.

Following his friend’s gaze across the table his heart froze in his throat. The kid who they had rescued from the Cawdor had a bright cobalt blue light coming from both of his eyes. His mouth was set in grim determination. Then Ian realized that the kid’s hands where touching Amber’s face and shoulder. The hair on the back of Ian’s arms stood on end as the smell of ozone and a tingling sensation filled the room.

Ian watched, frozen, as the wounds that he had not dressed yet were slowly beginning to heal right before his eyes. He was both sickened with fear by what he was seeing, and too stunned to react.

Moments turned into minutes but neither Ian nor Renny could move. Then the blue light faded and the kid looked down. His hands were shaking and he raised them before his face to examine them.

A low moan came from Amber’s lips which drew Ian’s attention away from the Wyrd. She was coming to. He quickly looked over the rest of her body. There was no evidence of any trauma on her skin, only the tattered body-glove that covered her gave an evidence of what she had gone through.

Amber slowly reached up and pulled the rag bandage from her face. Ian was shocked to see both of her green eyes now looking back into his. His lifted his hands to brush the blood soaked hair away from her face so he could touch her cheek.

“What the hell just happened?” Renny said taking half a step back.

Ian slowly helped Amber up to a sitting position. She was obviously still disoriented. Once she was up he started to look her over once more. He could not find a scratch on her. No scars or anything.

“I… I don’t know,” the kid muttered. His hands still shook slightly and there was a fear in his own eyes.

Renny and Ian glanced at each other, neither was sure of what to say or do.

“Thank you,” was all Ian could stammer out.

“I don’t know how you did it… but, I am in your debt…” Amber said as she stood up from the table.

The kid slowly backed away holding his hands up before him, afraid that he might touch her again and what might happen. He never took his eyes off of his own hands. When his back finally touched the wall he practically leapt out of his own skin. Amber slowly lifted up her right hand as she slowly approached him, with her palm facing out to show that she wasn’t going to hurt him.

“What’s your name?” She asked.

“Ja-ja-jak-Jakob, m-my friends call me Jake.” The kid responded.

Amber gently took Jakob’s hand. His eyes snapped up to look into her face.

“Thank you Jakob,” she said looking back and then she gently shook his trembling hand.

“That is a handy skill you have there Jakob,” Ian said as he walked up behind Amber.

Jakob looked from face to face of the Van Saar gangers. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he just nodded.

“Ian!” Boanerges frantically shouted as he ran into the medical bay. “You need to come quick! Amber’s been…”

Boanerges nearly fell over stretcher near the door when he saw Amber standing there with a smirk on her face.

“How… I saw you in the street… you were…”

Amber looked over at Jakob who had a terrified look on his face. After hesitating a moment she motioned towards Ian.

“Ian brought me around the back. I was… knocked out by the concussion, but nothing serious. Ian cleaned up the scratches, but nothing to worry about.”

Making contact with Amber Ian said, “Yea, not even a scratch really. The blast must have scragged a rat or something.

Boanerges looked around the room like they were all daft. “But… I…, never mind.” And with that he left shaking his head.

“I better head back topside to see if any other Spiders need my help. Jakob, really, thank you.”

[Ian - 26 / Jakob 2] - When two paths meet

2010-02-04T15:06:00.000-05:00

Ian looked down into the recovery forge where the fanatics supposedly dragged their captive off to. The floor of the place was only five hundred by three hundred meters. Several grinders and sifters lined the back wall with long dysfunctional conveyor systems branching out like strands of a spider web to various spots on the factory floor. At the end of each conveyor system were a variety forges where the scrap metal or plastics could be melted down so that the various impurities could be removed and the rest shaped into cube ingots to be resold to the various factories uphive that kept Necromunda running.

From each of these stations their also ran a trough across the floor to take and dump the material that could not be recycled, into a central pit two meters square. Around the rim was a walkway with handrails, and on one side an improvised dais.

There were three guards roaming the factory, one on each end of the floor, and the last one was standing on the dais pretending to give some kind of speech.

Without a word Dyrke signaled Ian to stay put and cover them as they advanced. He was to cover the speechmaker and take the shot only if necessary. The wounded heavy, Gelder, would have to stay put with him.

From Ian’s vantage point he had a clear line of site to all three of the Cawdor Redemptionists. It would be a reach for his lasgun to the two on edge of the factory, but he could make it happen if he needed. It all depended on the situation that came up. He watched as Rogers approached the man on his right, Renny the man on the left, while Dyrke took the center. Each man got within three meters of their respective targets. For several moments all three waiting until it was clear, then Dyrke leapt from his position and planted his axe firmly down into the color bone of his target. This signaled the other two to launch their attacks as well. Rogers was a little more subtle as his power sword slipped easily between his target’s shoulder blades and out his chest. The man just looked down dumb founded before collapsing to the ground. Renny drew both of his las pistols and leveled them at the back of his target and pulled the trigger several times. Ian froze solid as his ears perked up for the tell tale sign that the rest of the Redemptionists nearby had become aware of their presence. Dyrke shot a glance over at Renny who just shrugged his shoulders like he didn’t know what they were all worried about.

After several minutes Ian allowed himself to breathe again. From his position Dyrke signaled Ian to reverse his over watch position so that he could watch the approaches from the rear while the rest completed the rescue of their target.

Ian picked up his lasgun and kit and did as he was told. Gelder was fine enough to leave in place. Being out on the edge of the action usually gave Ian the jitters. He did not like to be left flapping out in the breeze. After ten minutes Dyrke was already calling Ian down from his perch. Dyrke wanted him to give the man a once over.

He looked awful. His body-glove was ripped to shreds. What was left of it was indicating that he had been exposed to a liquid form of a nerve agent. Immediately Ian instructed Dyrke, Renny, and Rogers to clean their hands as their suits were showing indications of exposure around their hands and wrists as well. Pulling a few rags out of his med kit bag he wiped the man down as best he could, but his eyes were glazed over (where they glowing blue?), and he was mostly unresponsive to any kind of verbal interaction, but he could follow simple physical guidance. Without knowing how much time they had Dyrke pulled the man to his feet and led him by the arm towards the tunnel leading out of the Redemptionists dome. Ian helped Gelder to his feet and quickly followed, leaving Rogers and Renny to pull up the rear.

The long trip back to the Bifröst was surprisingly uneventful. The half dozen men that wound their way up hive barely turned a head.

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

As they climbed up the last ladder to their home Ian felt the tension drain out of him. They had been gone a little over a week and all he wanted right now was a hot chem.-shower, a tall glass of water, a decent meal, and to lie in Amber’s arms; in that order. With the help of Renny, Ian dropped both Gelder and the guy they had rescued onto two of the tables in the Steel Spider’s medical bay. Looking around he noticed that Amber was not around.

“At least her gear is still here,” Ian thought to himself.

Gelder was pretty stable. Just a change of dressings and he should be ok. The wound had penetrated deep into his abdomen, but it looked like he would recover well enough. The kid they had rescued he was not as sure about.

Ian had made sure that all of the chemical crap had been cleaned off of him and he had been given a new body glove just as soon as it was possible, but there was still something not right with the kid. All the way back the kid rolled his eyes into the back of his head and babbled on about having to find it. Some lost book or some other nonsense. He had seen people delirious on some form of chem., or another, but this was different. The Van Saar suit was no longer showing any indication of foreign chemicals in his system, and when his eyes rolled back they would glow a soft blue. When that happened the hairs on the back of Ian’s neck would stand up.

He had never seen one, but this had ‘Wyrd’ written all over it. The roving priests from the Redemptionists cult like the ones they had just rescued this kid from, would love nothing more than to get their hands on this one. Ian was sure the Enforcers would also like to know about it. But he had felt sorry for the kid. There did not seem to be anything wrong with him… besides, the blue light could have been from his own exposure to the chemicals he had handled while tending to the kid. Yeah, that was it,

“Just chems playing with my head” Ian told himself. Once he made sure his new patients were comfortable he gathered up his hygiene kit and headed for the showers.

[Jakob 1] When you reach bottom...

2010-01-21T14:56:00.000-05:00

Jakob just stood there covered in a chemical soup, starring up at the throng of hooded men surrounding the pit he now found himself in. To a man they were howling, calling for his incineration, and frustration that the igniters had failed to ignite the liquid as it was sprayed all over him. Whatever it was, it stung his eyes, and dug into every crevice of his body. The Van Saar body glove that was designed to protect him from such exposures was shredded by his captors and barely covered any part of his body.

“Blasphemer!”, “Heretic!”, “Burn him!” were all heard from the men on the walkway above. Finally, a man with robes and a hood covered in crimson flames, silently raised his hands. He patiently waited as the mob fell silent.

“My righteous companions!” he shouted as he looked around to make sure he had their complete attention. “For reasons unknown to me at this time, the Almighty Emperor has decided to spare this poor soul. Perhaps he is worthy of redemption!” Immediately the crowd called for another attempt at the pouring forth of the cleansing flame. The leader raised his hands once again, calling for their silence.

“Who here would dare question the Emperor’s will? I will go and meditate upon this turn of events, but rest assured, this man will either be redeemed, or he will be purged of his evil ways with the cleansing flames of the undying Emperor!” With that the crowd erupted in raucous approval.

Slowly the crowd began to disperse. The whole time the flame covered man just stood staring down at him. Jakob could almost feel the hatred and contempt from his shrouded eyes. Finally he was left alone in the pit, still covered head to toe in the chemicals that had been intended to incinerate him. In their frenzy and frustration of trying to purge him, the zealous Cawdor had left the nozzles on longer than usual, and he now stood calf deep in whatever it was. Apparently there was no drain to take the slop away.

It wasn’t until he was alone that the adrenaline that had kept him going for the past few hours finally failed him. His knees buckled and he fell down on all fours. As his hands and knees impacted the chemical pool it splashed up filling his mouth and nostrils, and covering his torso once more. He was suddenly so exhausted he didn’t bother to try and clear his mouth or face and just hung his head there, using what little strength that was left in his limbs to keep himself from falling over and thus submerging himself further in the goop. The chemicals were thick and dripping slowly off his body and out of his mouth and nose. He just did not have the strength to do anything about it.

“A fine mess you’ve gotten yourself into Jake”, he said to himself. “Mother always said you lived a charmed life. What’s wrong Jake… not feeling so charmed right now? You’re less then two weeks out of the house and you’ve ended up in the hands of the Cawdor who would like nothing more than to roast you alive. Well, at least whatever this mess is, it isn’t flammable. Wonder how much time this little development’s bought you.”

Jakob shifted his weight so that he could sit with his back against the wall. Although the sickly sweet stench from the chemical pool was overpowering he had to find a way to rest before his arms gave out and he found his face submerged in it. With a heavy sigh he looked around at his surroundings. The walls were smooth sheets of plas-steel, four meters high, by two meters wide, and lined with a walkway at the top. He resigned himself to the fact that he just didn’t have the strength to attempt such a leap. Besides, it was not like he was used to exerting himself even before this little ‘journey’. The nozzles that had sprayed him down were recessed in each of the four corners, and small enough that it was not possible to use as a way to climb up. Almost imperceptibly he noticed that the scraps of his body glove had changed to an emerald green. Indicating that the chemical slop he was sitting in was a minor neurotoxin. Nothing he could do about that right now.

“The next time I hear that still small voice telling me to wander down hive I really need to have my head examined… if there is a next time,” he said glumly to himself. “Still… I was so sure that I would find something... proof that the Emperor was just a man, that the Machine Spirit is a fallacy. Even better, something to confirm what he was hearing was real and that he was really not delusional. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told my family.”

A smirk actually came across his face along with that last thought. The Van Saar were nothing if not devout in their belief of the Machine Spirit. The Emperor played second to the Machine Spirit, perhaps not in lip service, but most definitely in practice. When he had shared this new found revelation with his older brothers and sisters they turned pale and had looked around to see if anyone had overheard the conversation. Then they and had tried to convince him that he was delusional. When they failed to convinced him to come around to their point of view they had subjected him to a severe beating. Not enough to cause any kind of permanent injury of course, but they had gotten their point across. The reception was even worse when he told the same story to his father. His father sent him off to a private apprentice shop, one that specialized in the guidance of young minds in the ways of the Machine Spirit.

“Go, teach and train others… take nothing with you…, the voice said to me. How can I be sure that I don’t just have some kind personality disorder? Just who… or what… is ‘Ijam’ anyway?”

He had searched the family’s archives for any kind of reference to ‘Ijam’ and found nothing, so he arranged to gain access to the House Van Saar resources. Still the information eluded him. When those resources had been exhausted, at the cost of several disciplinary actions for not reporting to his duties at the factory on time, he began to search any external resource he could get access to. While Hive City’s libraries were not as expansive as those of the Spire Houses, it had taken him several long months to work through it. By then he had learned to keep his mouth shut about his new found beliefs. Then an idea came to mind, what about the “Underhive”? There was no way he was going to be able to gain access to the Spire, so there was just no where else to go. Suddenly he felt compelled to go in search for some lost archeotech that would show him what he was looking for. Surely somewhere in the bowels of Hive-Primus he would find what he was looking for. When he approached his father about his intentions he was scoffed at. But when his father realized how determined Jakob was he reluctantly allowed him to go. The only caveats were – he was to go alone, he could not expect any support from the family once he descended below, and that when he returned he was to put all of this foolishness behind him and settle into his rightful place.

“You didn’t have it so bad. A job in management, no sweating it out on an assembly line, a decent place to live, and paid security guards and servants. What did your father call it? ‘Wanderlust’? Why did I ever leave? What did I hope to find? They’d all cling to their precious superstitions; even if I found evidence of this… ‘Ijam’. Bah! I was a fool.”

As he sat there the fumes slowly overcame him and he passed out.

Auditions and Introductions

2009-12-18T14:31:00.000-05:00

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at Harley. I’m not dressing up and playing a clown!”

Harley found herself getting annoyed. She was having a really hard time explaining exactly what she was thinking. Jes was large for an Escher. Her 1.7 meter frame was layered with thick muscles. In most of the other Houses one might take her as strong of body, but weak of mind. Not so, Jes and her sister Dea were technically savvy and knew how to do “stuff”. But for someone so smart, Jes sure was dense.

“You should have seen them Jes. The cameras couldn’t track ‘em! They were everywhere at once. ; Beautiful,” Harley said and let her voice trail off. ;

“Then what are you talking about?” The muscular Esher sighed as she put down the bolt assembly to the heavy stubber she was working on.

“We start with getting a bunch of lasses together who are open minded and are willing to learn things. I want our new gang to be able to slip into a downhive settlement looking like we’re just a bunch of entertainers, all the while we’re scoping them out and picking their pockets. You remember that traveling freak show when we were snot-nosed juvies?”

“Yea I remember. They got shut down by the Guilders right after that slag-bucket of a scavvy got lose and destroyed a small factory before the Enforcers took it out. But what does that have to do with what you’re talkin’ about?”

Harley shook her head, “yea, well, not like those freaks Jes. I’m saying like dancers and jugglers. I’m not talking about trying to be like some pretty little up-hiver who couldn’t smack a Van Saar in the face, I’m talking about deadly cats that can dance circles around their prey and strike from any angle.”

“Yea ok, I could buy that… but Dea and I ain’t exactly light of foot.”

“Yea, but you guys can contribute in other ways. My benefactor helped me do a little research on those… what did she call them… Eldar something-or-other. Anyway, some of them dress all in black, and wear masks like this.”

Harley pulled her hand out from behind her back and extended it towards her friend. In her hand she held a mask. Jes took it and was unable to conceal her grin. It was a boney death mask with accents to make it look more sinister.

“Quin says their heavies wear these and suits to go with it. We won’t have any fancy suits, but we can deck ourselves out in other ways. ”

Jes ran her olive colored fingers over the mask, feeling the contours and creases.; “So, Dea will have one too?”

“Yea, sort of a calling card for you both. How soon do you think we can round up some more girls?” Harley said.

“Come on”, Jes said, “I know a few who are itching to get downhive. I’m sure Tanna and Malina can get us a few more heads to fill in the gaps.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

“Alright! Zip it!” Jes yelled above the din. Dea moved to the opposite side of the small shack that made up “The Swill Pool”. The “Pool” had once been a moisture condenser mounted on the roof of the dome somewhere far above. When it crashed to the floor during a hive quake it didn’t take long for the locals to strip it of all salvage, leaving a surprisingly intact shell, which in turn became a small building in the middle of the street. An odd location for a building to be sure, but in the “no man’s land” between Escher and Goliath territory in Hive City, nobody was going to move it.

The volume barley dimmed until a tall strapping woman walked through the front door. She wore black knee length boots and skin tight pants. The pants were half yellow, half red with each leg a different color. On her hips she wore a synth-leather belt and holster, the latter was strapped to her right thigh, the deep brown a sharp contrast to the bright yellow fabric below it. The holster was empty. On her torso she wore a bright blue sleeveless half-shirt revealing chiseled abs contoured biceps. Both of her arms were fully extended at a slight angle out to her sides. In her right hand she held a spotless bolt pistol. Her left hand grasped a lethal chainsword, currently idle. On each wrist she wore a wide fabric band in the colors of the opposite leg. Around her neck she wore a thick bright orange choker that matched the color of a trim plush mowhawk on the top of her head. The choker was studded with small spikes spaced a few centimeters apart. It was impossible to determine the woman’s facial features as they were concealed behind a full face mask in the shape of a wicked grin. The mask was painted all in white. A slightly pointed nose and bright red lips surrounding an exaggerated toothy smile. Over the left eye was a bright green diamond that extended both above and below. As all eyes turned to the newcomer the masked woman thumbed the throttle on the chainsword which immediately belched out a throaty roar. When the reverberation from the sword died down there was not a voice to be heard.

Harley looked over the assembled mob and nodded slightly. Not a bad assortment. All told four women had responded to Dea and Jes’ overtures of adventure and profit. Just as she was ready to speak, a second group of women entered from the far end led by Malina and followed up by Tanna. In between were just three juves, but that wouldn’t matter. The Underhive had ways of making you grow up quick, or it would cut your life short. One way or another they wouldn’t be underfoot for long. Harley nodded again, satisfied with the turn out. In all there were now eleven women ready and eager to strike out and seek their fortune in the Underhive.

Without a word both Tanna and Melina vaulted on top of separate tables. Each woman drew their sword and pistol. Slowly, and in wide arcs, they each began to gracefully swing their swords with the pistols in counter balance. As their routine continued the cadence got faster and tighter. All the while both women deftly danced and launched simulated attack strikes with sword, pistol, and feet. Just as the tempo began to seem unsustainable both dropped into a feline-like crouch with their outside leg fully extended to the side, their pistols full extended above their legs and their swords pointed down and to the outside behind their respective owner’s heads ready to strike. Right on cue both Dea and Jes spewed forth a cloud of flame from their mouths, which burned with a dull whoosh and caused the women to duck involuntarily.

“Now that we have your full attention,” Haley said as she slowly lifted the mask from her face having holstered her weapons during her ganger’s martial display. “I don’t know what lies my girls here have told you, but we’re obviously not aiming to be like all of the other House Escher gangs.” She paused for dramatic effect, and to assure that she still held their attention. “We will move from settlement to settlement entertaining those wretches. We will distract them from their miserable existences, all the while seeking opportunities to strike out in the interest of House Escher.”

Harley let her eyes wander from face to face and could see that she was making an impression. She nodded over to Jes who pulled out several crates out from under the bar. As the Heavy plopped the fully loaded containers one at a time on the table she threw open each lid. Inside the first were a seemingly random assortment of pistols, the second contained several swords, axes, and other melee weapons, the last one held brightly colored clothes. No two outfits were alike. Several of the Escher moved to start picking through the crates.

“Not so fast ladies,” Harley shouted. “There are some things you need to know first. First, you have to earn our calling card.” She looked directly at the three juves as she held her mask aloft for emphasis of what she was referring to. “And that includes the House Escher calling card,” this she said as she reached down with her free hand to lift out a sword from its crate. She then held that aloft for to make sure she had made her point to the juves. “But no matter what your role in our little Troupe, you are a part of the act.”

“Each of you will learn to both dance and how to perform acrobatic routines. You will learn to juggle, pick pockets, and any other act I can dream up. We will move from settlement to settlement to perform our little act and bring some cheer to the miserable existence of those wretches. All the while we will keep our eyes open for opportunities and strike out in the interests of our glorious House when the timing is right. If this is not your cup of wildsnake you may take your leave, and don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

Haley let several moments pass as she looked into the eyes of each of the women. None made as much as a twitch.

“Very well then, welcome to the ‘Troupe of the Masque’.”

The Beginning of the Dance

2009-12-11T16:26:00.003-05:00

Harley sat fixated on the vid-screen. The pictures were grainy and would fade from black and white to color, and then back again, but her imagination was captured. Lord Helmawr had dispatched a vid reporter to tell the glories of the famous Necromunda 8^th Regiment, the “Spiders”. The reporter had started her report listing the many honors and glories won on far flung battlefields when several blurs of light flashed onto the screen and men began dying.

The sounds of lasgun shots and small explosions began to drown out the reporter, who was now desperately trying to get out of the way. The blurs of light were everywhere. Then it happened.

For a fraction of a second one of the blurs stopped long enough for the lens of the camera to get a clear shot of one of the assailants. Harley rubbed her eyes because she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. When she dropped her hands again the figure was gone. Then the screen went black and cut back to a newsroom somewhere up in the Spire. Another reporter went on to extol how courageous their Regiment was and that they had driven off the demon spawned xenos, but her mind had drifted and she was in her own world.

For weeks after the image would replay in her mind. It would come to her in her dreams., when she was awake, and it didn't matter what she was doing. A lithe figure poised upon her (whatever it was, it was obviously female) left foot, the right was drawn up to the inside of the left leg. Both arms came across the torso. The left arm came across the stomach and clasped some kind of alien pistol, while the right was behind her head holding an elegant sword that shimmered. The clothing was flamboyant. The legs, arms, and torso alternated back and forth in pattern and color. The left leg was a solid dark blue throughout, while the right leg had a checkered pattern of red and yellow. Upon the torso the patterns switched sides, while the arms followed the pattern of the legs. Upon the dancer’s legs and hands, for that is what came to Harley’s mind when she thought of her ~ that she looked very much like a dancer, were matching knee length boots and gloves. They were brown and made of some sort of animal skin. But it was her face and hair that kept Harley’s rapt attention more than anything. Her hair was a vivid red and orange in the shape of a plush Mohawk, with the sides of her head shaved. Upon her face she wore a mask. The left side was all in white and had the image of a smiling alien face, while the right a deep black that seemed to be weeping and upon the cheek a glittering diamond colored tear.

Finally she knew that she could not resist it any more. She arranged to meet with her closest friends. Let the enemies of House Escher be warned. The “Troupe of the Masque” was going on tour.

Background piece - redeux

2009-10-06T15:50:00.007-05:00

Due to changes in the Nomad-like character (for the complete story click HERE) i have adjusted the story so i am reposting it...

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

The common room was busier than normal at the Sludge Spill Inn tonight, especially considering the ash storm outside had been raging for the better part of three days. Rumors had been running rampant around Hive’s End about an impending PDF sweep. Old Vira had said she heard mention at the Nomad bazaar of one of old Helmawr’s shuttles being shot down out in the wastes and the old Lord was out to inflict some retribution on the ‘illegal’s’ who choose not to seek his protection within the Hives.

Shanty towns like Hive’s End are easy targets for Helmawr’s goons. It did not matter that all they wanted to do was etch out a living from the industrial wastes and that it was unlikely that such a town could produce much more than a heavy stubber or two, let alone something with as long a reach as a las cannon or missile launcher. Such toys were more likely found among the Imperial Fists Space Marines or one of the Nomad bands that make their living moving between the hives and out in the wastes.

“Old Vira has the locals stirred up pretty good,” the inn keeper said to himself. “I’ll have to remind myself to give her a round on the house later.” The man stood behind the bar with one of his heavily booted feet on a box under the bar, looking out over the bar room he liked what he saw. No less than a dozen customers sat around the room.

Most of the population around town was leery of the young bar keep, but he did not let that bother him. Unlike most of the denizens of Necromunda’s Ash Wastes he was not native to this inhospitable place.

Before the Enforcers had come calling he and his mates had created quite a little fiefdom in the Underhive of Hive Primus, and although he had not been the leader of the ‘Iron Skulls’, he had been a trusted and proven lieutenant. There had been many a time he had out drawn his opponents to get his shots off, blazing away with his twin semi-automatics. That was before the heavy hand of Lord Helmawr and his police force, the Enforcers, had declared him and his gang outlaws. He was the last of the Skulls now, and that was only because he had braved the wastes. As formidable as the reach of the Enforcers is, even they thought twice before venturing outside the protective walls of the hive. Once he had made it to Hive’s End he found that his skills with his pistols could be useful, and after the last raid by some Nomads had killed the previous owner of the Inn, Ramic was quicker still to move in and stake his claim. No one had challenged him. Not until today that is.

“We need to get Cootus and round up those good for nothing punks from ’round town an organize!”

“You’re crazy!” a second man shouted over the first. “You can’t fight the PDF. Y’all be kilt!”

“Who said anything about getting killed!?” Ramic shouted over the first two.

The overlapping murmur of conversations took a noticeable dip as several people turned to look at the Inn Keeper. Ramic deftly swung his 1.8 meter, 72 kilogram frame up and over the bar and landed with both feet firmly planted on the plasteel sheet floor.

Ramic did not like where this was heading. He had already gone toe to toe with Helmawr’s forces and he felt fortunate to still be alive to tell about it, but he was not about to allow these sickly shanty scum to incite baseless paranoia in his place, especially since it would most likely lead to damaged property and goods – his goods.

“Korval, best to keep such talk to yourself.” Ramic said as he turned his head from man to man in the room. The black bandanna on his head accented the crew cut hair and square jaw of the former Orlock ganger. To make sure he made his point Ramic pulled his respirator down so it hung around his neck, thus no longer distorting his words.

“If you want to drive everyone into a panic you can just mosey on down to the Vira’s Acid Bath House.”

“What t’chu ginna do ‘bout it Rammey?”

The room went quiet. Ramic shifted his weight, placing both feet shoulder width apart, then moving his hands slowly to his hips as he spread his vest apart to reveal his the pair stubbers within a set of quick draw holstered and worn high on his hips to allow quicker access.

“I will do what I have to Korval. Best to keep your hands right there on the table where I can see ‘em too.”

Korval seemed to weigh the inn keeper’s words carefully and stood as if to leave. As he turned to his right he slowly drew his hand up to his own holster. When his hand made contact with the pistol grip he snapped it out and spun to draw down on Ramic, but before Korval could complete his maneuver Ramic had cleared both of his pistols from the holsters and had snapped off three shots from each. All six shots impacted their target and Korval fell backwards, upended the table he had been sitting at on the way to the floor.

Ramic kept both pistols drawn at waist level as his eyes scanned the room for anyone else who might feel lucky. All eyes were on him when a sudden gush of wind brought in a fresh cloud of ash and debris through the front door from the wastes beyond. A few of the people within the Inn were caught by surprise and began coughing profusely. The end result was that everyone was now looking at the three new strangers who had just walked in. It was not the appearance of potential customers that confused the people already there, it was the fact that these wayfarers had ventured out in the midst of a pretty good ash storm.

The industrial wastelands of Necromunda were not to be traveled lightly in what might locally could be considered ‘good’ weather, but to move about in the middle of one the sudden storms that often spring up – usually lasting for several days – was to invite death to your door. It did not matter if you were going several kilometers, or across town. The chemical clouds and resins that make up the Ash Wastes were known to strip a man down to the bone if he were not properly protected, let alone being exposed for a prolonged journey. It was nearly impossible to predict what kinds of hazards were stirred up when Necromunda got her dander up, best to stay indoors, keep your head down and your respirator handy. But the three strangers that now showed up on Ramic’s doorstep had obviously come from some where outside the walls of the little Shanty town of Hive’s End, because he knew everyone in the small shanty town, and he had not seen these people before.

The man in front wore a heavy ankle length duster that flowed smoothly despite being made of a heavy fabric. His head was completely covered by a deep hood that was attached to the duster. His eyes were covered by a visor with a narrow single lens that went from temple to temple. His nose, mouth, and neck were covered by a single yellow scarf. Wrapped around his torso, underneath the jacket, was a royal blue tunic that draped to the length of the coat. Across his chest, underneath his left arm was a leather shoulder holster that held an as yet unidentified weapon, which matched another similar holster on his left hip. The grip of the weapon on his hip was pointed to the rear and was underneath the duster. Across the waist was a wide leather belt with an emerald colored gem buckle. On his right hip, slung slight low, hung a tubular pouch that contained something within. The boots he wore were also made of leather and came to just above his knees. Across his back was an ornate sword with a long grip. Over top of this he carried a small haversack that was full, and on the left side was strapped a long rifle wrapped in cloth similar to that of the duster. Those who have spent any amount of time outside the massive hives of Necromunda would recognize him as a Nomad Scout.

The second one through the door was adorned in a pair of heavy combat trousers that had apparently been salvaged as there were several holes revealing another layer of heavy fabric underneath in order to protect the wearer from the hostile elements. Upon the feet was a pair of mismatched combat boots. The head was wrapped in a similar fabric to what was underneath the pants, surrounding a pair of goggles and a dual filter respirator that covered the face. Atop the head was a Planetary Defense Cap. The torso was adorned in a waste length jacket with a heavy zipper up the front. It had a set of pockets on the arms as well as on the chest, which revealed that the wearer to be that of a woman. Upon her back was a pack similar to that of the nomad, and a shotgun with an improvised harness was slung from her right shoulder. The bandoleer of ammunition across her other shoulder and chest, along with the hodgepodge of clothing showed her to be a resident of some, as of yet unfamiliar, Shanty Town.

The last one to enter Ramic’s humble little Inn was not all that impressive to look at. He stood around one and three quarter meters tall, and he was not particularly big to look at either. The boots looked familiar but he could not place them. The heavy pants were similar to that of the woman’s, but above the waist he wore a threadbare shirt that was barely covering some kind of bodysuit. He was unarmed except for the heavy staff in his right hand. It was made of some kind of organic material that was interlaced with grains of metal – like the two materials had somehow grown and matured together. What was disconcerting was that he did not appear to be wearing any sort of respirator or eye protection, but this was not what gave Ramic pause. It was the sound of something he had not heard since he felt compelled to leave the hive. It was the sound that many a person who had gone against the rule of Lord Helmawr came to dread. From among the strangers wove a mechanical construct known as a Cyber Mastiff. He could not believe that he was seeing such a thing out in the wastes, and wondered why it was on his doorstep now, that was when he remembered where he had seen this man’s boots before – the Enforcers.

Slowly eyes moved between the three strangers and Ramic. No one was quite sure what to expect.

“Greetings friends. What may I get you?” Ramic offered without putting his pistols away just yet.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Notes:
The Inn keeper is (Ramic) and is the 3rd supporting character
Nomad is known as Luinon
The woman is known as Yeve
The last man is our ‘Hero’ Jakob

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

I am also almost done with another prelude piece that continues the story of Ian and his gang the Steel Spiders...

For notes - Charecter descriptions

2009-03-13T14:26:00.005-05:00

I typed up a brief "story" to work out how i felt the characters are supposed to look for a different story line i am working on. I am planning on continuing the story line i have posted before, but this is to get my fingers warmed up to begin again.

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

The sudden gush of wind brought in a fresh supply of ash and grit, while stirring up the substantial amount of particles already in place. If it were not for the protective masks everyone was wearing not a soul could keep from coughing. Without exception, the entire room’s attention was drawn to the now slowly closing door of the small trading post. It was not the appearance of potential customers that confused the people already there, it was the fact that they had apparently ventured out in the midst of a pretty good ash storm.

The industrial wastelands of Necromunda were not to be traveled lightly in what might locally be considered ‘good’ weather, but to move about in the middle of the sudden storms that often spring up without warning – often lasting for several days – was to invite death to your door. It did not matter if you were going several kilometers, or across town. The chemical clouds and resins that make up the Ash Wastes were known to strip a man down to the bone if he were not properly protected, let alone exposing yourself for a sustained journey. It was nearly impossible to predict what kinds of hazards were stirred up when Necromunda got her dander up, best to stay indoors, keep your head down and your respirator properly in place. But the three strangers that now showed up on Ramic’s doorstep had obviously come from some where outside the walls of the little Shanty town of Hive’s End, because he knew every one in town and he had not seen these people before.

The man in front wore a heavy ankle length duster that flowed smoothly despite being made of a heavy leather-like fabric. His face was covered by a full face respirator and a deep hood from the coat. Barely poking out from beneath the hood was the unmistakable brim of a hat from Lord Helmawr’s planetary defense force, which matched the mid-shin length boots he was wearing. Strapped to the man’s back were both a stuffed medium sized pack, and a completely wrapped long rifle. Those who have spent any amount of time outside the massive hives of Necromunda recognized him as a Nomad Scout, and apparently a fairly well seasoned one by the way he carried himself.

The second one through the door was adorned in a pair of heavy combat trousers that had obviously been salvaged as there were several holes revealing another layer of heavy fabric beneath to protect the wearer from the hostile elements. Upon the feet was a pair of mismatched boots. The head was wrapped in a similar fabric to what was underneath the pants, surrounding a pair of goggles and a dual filter respirator that covered the face. The torso was adorned in a waste length jacket with a heavy zipper up the front. It had a set of pockets on the arms as well as on the chest, which revealed that the wearer to be that of a woman. Upon her back was a pack similar to that of the nomad, and a shotgun with an improvised harness was slung from her right shoulder. A bandoleer of ammunition went across her other shoulder and down across the chest, along with the hodgepodge of clothing showed her to be a resident of some, as of yet, unfamiliar shanty town.

Ramic felt ill at ease. If it came down to protecting his wares he doubted any of his current patrons would lift a finger to help him as the denizens of the Ash Wastes Shanty towns were well known for their lack of bravery, and even more for their lack of tolerance of outsiders. More likely they would take cover and pick over whatever was left. He peered down over his own single filter respirator, currently draped around his neck, at his own attire. He had barely modified his gang colors that he brought with him when he fled Hive: Primus. Although he now wore a heavy laborer’s jump suit underneath his rust colored Orlock vest and trousers, it was obvious to which house his allegiance had been to. His boots were standard house issue, as were his fatigue like pants. Although his face was now often protected by the respirator and goggles (usually planted firmly above the white and black bandana he always wore on his forehead), it was obvious where he was from, something that did not endear him to his new neighbors.

Before the Enforcers had come calling he and his mates had created quite a little fiefdom, and although he had not been the leader of the ‘Iron Skulls’, he had been a trusted and proven member. There had been many a time he had out drawn his opponents to get his shots off, blazing away with his twin semi-automatics. That was before the heavy hand of Lord Helmawr had declared him and his gang outlaws. He was the last of the Skulls now, and that was only because he had braved the wastes. Although the formidable reach of the Enforcers is vast, even they thought twice to venture outside the protective walls of the hive cities. Glancing from hip to hip he felt confident that he could hold his own if he was pressed to do so, despite the bulge from the right leg under the Nomad’s coat. That is until he caught sight of the last man to come through the door.

The last one to enter Ramic’s humble little store was not all that impressive to look at. He stood around one and three quarter meters tall, and he was not particularly big to look at either. The boots looked familiar but he could not place them. The heavy pants were similar to that of the woman’s, but above the waist he wore a threadbare shirt that was barely covering some kind of bodysuit. He was unarmed except for the heavy staff in his right hand. It was made of some kind of organic material that was interlaced with grains of metal – like the two materials had somehow grown and matured together. What was disconcerting was that he did not appear to be wearing any sort of respirator or eye protection, but that was not what gave him pause. It was the sound of something he had not heard since he felt compelled to leave the hive. It was the sound that many a person who had gone against the rule of Lord Helmawr came to dread. From among the strangers wove a mechanical construct known as a Cyber Mastiff. He could not believe that he was seeing such a thing out in the wastes, and wondered why it was on his doorstep now. He was not as sure that he could take that thing down, magnum loads or not.

Notes: Nomad is known as Jar’d
The woman is known as Yeve
The shop keep (Ramic) is the 3rd supporting character
The last man is our ‘Hero’ Jakob

A Second Chance

2008-04-28T09:29:00.001-05:00

Somewhere in the fog between being awake and asleep Ian could hear someone calling his name. He just couldn’t figure out if it was a dream or not. The fatigue could be felt throughout his entire being and he desperately wanted to slip deeper into unconsciousness.

“Ian! Come on… get up! Dyrke wants to see us right now! Ian!”

Ian rolled over onto his back and then struggled to an upright position. When he opened his eyes he found it difficult to focus on the shadowy form at the foot of his bed. He put a hand down to steady himself as he rubbed his eyes in an effort to clear them up.

“Are you coming?”

Ian nodded and looked down to the other side of the bed. He started to reach out to wake Amber.

“Just you,” the figure said, now in a whisper.

Ian nodded again and then slipped his feet over the side of the bed. When his feet hit the cold plascrete floor it sent a jolt through his system that kick started the adrenaline. His mind was still a little foggy, but now his blood was flowing.

The Steel Spider’s medical bay was still dark. Ian guessed that it was about halfway through lights-out, the orchestrated sequence of lights to give Necromundan’s a sense of day and night. Fortunately he kept his Infra-goggles on the small table by the bed. It seemed like a waste to use precious battery power on something as frivolous as looking around his own room in the dark, but he would rather waste the batteries than wake Amber up.

As the goggles systems warmed up Ian looked around the bay. The six tables were all empty as the Spider’s were enjoying a peaceful season beneath the Bifrost. The workbench along the back of the room was undisturbed, and the half dozen partially finished projects littered it from one end to the other. He loved to tinker with gadgets but once Dyrke had found out that he was as good with humans as he was with gizmos, most of his time was spent fixing up the other Spiders. Still, he often found time to roam around the market place on the bridge span above. Always on the look out for that one piece he could use to complete his little projects. Right by the door, hanging on improvised pegs in the wall, hung Ian and Amber’s kit. Ian’s snatched up his woefully under equipped medic bag and lasgun and then took one last look over his shoulder. Amber sighed in her sleep and rolled over. Ian smiled to himself and headed straight for the gang’s briefing room. He was lucky. Most gangers rarely get to share a life with another.

Ian was the last to arrive. Sitting around the room were Renny, and Rogers.

“About time!” Rogers said as he walked in.

Ian knew from when he first joined the Spiders. He was a good guy to know. He was the quiet type around the bunk house, but was ferocious in combat. He was an oddity among the Van Saar because he favored close combat and carried a Bolt Pistol and a Power Sword. Renny had recently been elevated to a full fledged member of the gang and fancied himself as a gun slinger, carrying a las pistol on each hip. He was also good at ringing out a few extra credits on his rounds.

“What’s all this about Rog?” Ian asked as he sat down.

Before Rogers could answer, Dyrke walked in with a man in lockstep right behind him.

“What this is ‘all about’ is you doing as your told Ian,” Dyrke locked eyes with Ian as he strolled into the center of the room. It was more to make sure he had the group’s attention than anything else. Once he was satisfied that he had achieved just that he continued.

“This here is Gelder,” he said motioning toward the stranger with a wave of his arm. “I hired him from the Union Houses on my last trip uphive to report to the elders. He will be working with Boanerges in the shop.” Ian looked the man over, he carried a Plasma gun in a ‘Y’ sling across his shoulders, and a Bolt Pistol on his hip.

“While I was there I was given an assignment by Elder Korvan.” Ian had no idea who that was and looked around to see if there was an semblance of recognition from the others. “It would seem his son has decided he wanted a little adventure downhive here, and while he was sowing his oats, got himself captured by House Cawdor. This was confirmed by a ransom demand while I was there. It would seem that Elder Korvan would rather not pay this ransom, and would prefer to not publicaly engage in his son’s release. He has given us the privilege of accomplishing this task for him.”

Dyrke began to walk back and forth between the assembled gangers.

“That is why I’ve woken you all up in the middle of the night,” he said making eye contact with Ian once more. “I have placed Cacee in charge while we are away, and he is the only one who is to know where, and why. Any questions?”

Ian watched his leader for any hint of how long they were going to be gone, but he gave nothing away.

Dyrke looked around the room and saw that no one was willing to ask anything more. “Alright, we’re leaving right now.”

-=-=-=o=-=-=-

During their trip downhive Dyrke had filled the rest of his quintet in on their mission. Apparently the Elder’s son, Solby, had some kind of “spiritual revelation” and was on some kind of personal spiritual journey, for whatever reason that had led him to the underhive. It was not clear how, or why, he was now in the hands of the Cawdor, but they apparently were not pleased that he was passing through their territory.

What was known was that a Cawdor gang known as “The Harbingers” were now holding the Elder’s son, and that they had holed up after their last fight. Not just anywhere though. They had staked a claim in a recently discovered dome. Ian could not help but feel some sense of irony. It was the same dome he had implored Dyrke to strike out for not a fortnight ago.

-=-=-=o=-=-=-

The “Steel Spider’s” quietly approached the entrance to the Cawdor’s territory, a reinforced plas-steel door that served as a choke point. It was located smack dab in the middle of what had used to be an old industrial shipping hub. Old servo-lifts, and dismantled cargo carriers littered the landscape. Dyrke call his team close.

“There’s only one sentry, but the door looks to be locked tight. We’re going to have to blow it open. That’s your job Gelder,” Dyrke said. The new comer just nodded his acknowledgement. “Ian, you’re his cover man. Rogers, Renny, and I will move through to take out the sentry and secure the area. Once the door is blown we collapse on the doorway and move in to get this kid back. Any questions?”

Ian was not happy having to babysit the new guy, especially because he was so green. He had no idea what to expect of him, or how he would react once the shots began flying. As they came within sight of their goal the men broke up into their two groups.

As they approached Gelder wanted to stay on ground level but Ian shook his head sternly and pointed up to an overhanging gantry. It would provide a clear shot at the doorway, the sentry, and block of what appeared to be empty habs. Ian thought the latter looked as good as any for the Cawdor’s barracks.

Ian practically had to restrain the man. While Ian was trying to be cautious and ensure a clear shot, Gelder was anxious to get his shot on the door. Ian could hear the plasma chambers heating the stored plasma cells. The scent of charged ions was unmistakable. As Ian glanced over to try and point his partner to a better firing position the distinctive hiss of a plasma gun discharge filled the air.

“Crap!” Ian thought to himself and immediately sighted back on the sentry. The hooded man’s image leapt into view of his Infrared sight. One of his little gizmo’s created back on his work bench back under the Bifrost. Before Ian could squeeze of a shot with his las gun the sentry was banging a set of metal bars together. The alarm was raised and they were about to have some company.

“Zzzaaap!”

The las bolt knocked one of the metal pipes out of the Cawdor’s hands causing him to flinch and duck for cover. “Calm down Ian,” he said to himself. “Breath,” Ian said counting to three to himself.

“Zzzaap!”

“Son of a…,” Ian cursed himself out loud as his second shot sailed wide. It wasn’t even close. “You gonna take out that door Gelder? Or am I going to have to do it with this lasgun!

As Ian went to take another shot he saw the red led indicator blinking on the charging chamber.

“Piece of junk!” Ian cursed to no one in particular as he cycled the charging handle. “Gonna have to look at those connectors again.”

The smell of super heated plasma and the hiss of Gelder’s plasma gun filled the air again. “Take that!” Ian heard the heavy say.

Suddenly the area around the two men was peppered with incoming shots as the Cawdor responded to the attack in force. Gelder groaned as he was hit. Ian couldn’t tell how bad it was, but when the heavy collapsed to the floor he went right on over the ledge. Ian looked on in horror as the man fell three levels and landed with a solid thud.

“That’s not good,” Ian thought to himself.

There wasn’t time to worry about it. Several more shots began landing in and around him. To get more cover Ian went prone and began searching for targets. BY this time Dyrke and the others were among the closest of the new arrivals. But then he spots a juicy target.

Towards the back of the pack is man draped in deep blue robes and a full face hooded mask. If there had been flames or some other telling mark, Ian could have sworn it was a Redemptor. “Come to papa,” he thought to himself, and squeezed off another shot from his las gun. This one struck home and he saw the Cawdor leader drop to a knee grabbing his shoulder.

“Ping, ping, ping!”

“That was close.” Ian flinched as several large caliber rounds hit the railing to his left, chips of paint a metal flayed across his arm. It took a second but Ian found the source of his troubles, a bounty hunter. But before Ian could return fire the Cawdor were falling back to regroup.

“Come on! I’ve got the door open and we’re getting out of here!”

I know, I know...

2008-02-22T13:17:00.000-05:00

... it has been what... nine months since my last short story? I am working on the next series... I just don't have a timeline of when they will be posted... soon... I hope

Opportunity Knocks

2007-08-31T13:51:00.000-05:00

“Five, only five,” Sergeant Julius thought to himself. “Malcavoy had better come through with the others, and quick. It’s a good thing there’s not much going on down here… yet.”

“Where do you want to establish the Garrison Sergeant?”

Julius, he still hadn’t gotten used to the name, stirred himself from his thoughts. He knew exactly where he wanted to position every thing. He just didn’t have the man power to do it very quickly. He set down the pile of rebar he was moving into position for an outer wall and whipped the beading sweat from his face.

“Your standing in it Froster. I need you to demo that hab-block over there,” Julius replied pointing to a row of five old tenements, long abandoned. “We need to clear it for fire lanes. And this time, see if you can leave us some useful materials. We can’t be bringing down everything we need from above.”

Froster nodded and moved off to complete his assignment. Julius looked around. With nothing apparently living in the newly rediscovered dome they had their pick of locations. The Enforcer Sergeant had settled on a three hundred by two hundred meter island that was completely surrounded by a river of industrial waste run-off. The toxic river had surprisingly little fumes. Perhaps it was because there was an equal amount of breeze that also blew through the dome. The sole bridge connecting the small island to the rest of the dome was still intact, and it was apparent that this little island had once been a sort of central trading post for the outlying regions. It also just occurred to him that the viscous sludge flowing past was not acidic, the metallic piers that jutted out from the island and “mainland” still stood. If the liquids had been corrosive they would have long been eaten away he thought.

As it was, he and his five man patrol were busy clearing out an area to firmly establish their new Patrol base. With the bridge coming across at a narrow finger it was easy to determine where the first guard tower would be located. The second would enclose one of the piers on the river, while the third would face the rest of the island. In time the Enforcer’s precinct compound would be a reassuring presence to those who walked by. But that was still sometime in the future. Until the Guilders arrived with the first shipment of supplies, materials, and servitors, the work would be slow going. Even so, he needed to establish presence patrols.

“Kyle! Come here!”

The Enforcer picked up his shotgun he had leaning against a post where he had been digging, and scampered over.

Returning the man’s salute Julius informed him, “Grosse and I will be heading across the bridge. I need you, Hicks, and Froster to keep watch on the approach. No one is to cross until our return.”

“Understood,” was the only reply before the man went off to obey his orders.

“Malcavoy, you sure can pick good men,” Julius thought to himself.

“Grosse!”

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Fifteen minutes after his conversation with Kyle Julius was ready to head out with Grosse and their assigned Cyber Mastiff, affectionately called ‘Logan’ – well, affectionately to at least Grosse that is. As they performed their final checks on their kit Froster could be heard calling out, “Fire in the hole!”

BAWHOOM!

The ground trembled under their boots as the demolition charges went off. Looking over to where the hab-block that he wanted removed used to be, all Julius could see was a rolling cloud of dust. Yup, things were moving along nicely.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

It felt the ground beneath it rumble. It came from a different direction than the new opening.

Sniffing the air it could not detect anything. Nothing registered out of the norm. With a quick signal it sent others to investigate.

Perhaps the flesh things moved more quickly than it anticipated.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

The hair on the back of Julius’ neck stood straight up at the same time he noticed the foot prints in the ash dust that covered the street before him. It was too quiet, and the air wasn’t moving.

Following the four sets of foot prints with his eyes the Enforcer Sergeant could tell they led to an old gambling den. For the first time the stench of death was close by, and not some faint, indistinguishable odor. This was close, and Julius was sure it was coming from the other end of these tracks.

Grosse sent ‘Logan’ forward. The synthetic dog moved forward sensing the air for any sign of trouble as it went, but it made it to the porch without incident. Once on the porch it caught the scent of a trail and signaled such back to Grosse. Logan also signaled which direction it seemed to go off in, and then went back to sniffing around the porch. After sniffing into the doorway and the broken front window it began to return to its handler.

Halfway back it halted, turned to face back the way it had just come, and the distinctive sound of its synthetic growl began to rumble in its throat. Both Grosse and Julius heard it and readied their weapons.

In the distant shadows both men could see something moving behind the gambling den, on both sides. Logan was constantly growling now, and Grosse had to call to the construct twice to get it to return to him.

Julius signaled them to move forward. He wanted to use the building as a means to narrow down the approaches. As they made the porch Julius had Grosse take the right corner, while he took the left.

“I have two coming my way,” Grosse called over his shoulder.

“Same here,” Julius replied. “Can you make them out?”

There was a slight pause, “not for sure, but they shuffle like plague zombies.”

‘Great,’ Julius thought to himself. ‘My own patrol, he said. Establish a new dome.’

The Enforcer Sergeant peered around his corner to try and get a better look for himself. ‘Maybe I should have thought twice.’ Sure enough, two man shaped things, shuffling steadily towards them.

“I only see the two, plus your two, we should be in good shape. We take shots and fall back as we go. As long as we stay out of arms reach we should be good.”

“Got it,” Grosse replied.

THWIPING!

“What the hell was that?!” Gross called back as he snapped his suppression shield to the front.

“What was what,” Julius called back.

“Something just ricocheted off my shield, almost like they shot something at me.”

‘That’s not right. Plague zombies aren’t supposed to do that,” Julius thought to himself.

THWIP, THWIP, THWIP!

around the corner the two zombie-like things were fairly close. Calling over his shoulder to his partner Julius wanted to know where they were at.

“These two have set up an overwatch position. Almost like they want to keep us from running away,” Grosse answered.

‘Not good. That is not good. Another example of what they’re not supposed to do. They are not supposed to display these kinds of tactics.’ Julius prepared himself. “You’re going to have to hold your side, return fire and keep those things occupied.”

“Ok, wait…” Grosse looked over his shoulder, “…what are you going to do?”

“Ahhhhh!” was the only reply as Julius took off at a full run charging the things on his side.

Glancing down at his Cyber Mastiff, “What are up waiting for?! Logan! Attack!” and the handler motioned for the dog to follow Julius. With a start the cyber mastiff was off to fulfill his handler’s command.

Using a pile of petrified scrap to cover his approach Julius managed to slam into the nearest thing with all his might, and it barely moved. As the Enforcer ready himself to let loose some shots with his bolt pistol Logan lunged from behind and clamped its jaws around the things throat. With a growl and a jerk of its head the Cyber Mastiff snapped the zombie’s neck and it lay still.

Immediately Julius shifted his aim and leveled his bolt pistol at the next zombie’s head. As he was squeezing the trigger he realized that it was cradling some kind of weapon. It looked like a heavy slug thrower, maybe even an ancient bolt gun.

BLAM!

He didn’t give it any more thought, he just pulled the trigger. The small explosive round detonated and the things head shattered.

He watched the thing fall and could not escape the fact that the things he knew about the plague, and what it did to its victims, did not seem to line up with what his mind was registering.

The sound of gun fire brought his mind back into the present. From the other side of the gambling den Julius could here Grosse was fully engaged in a gun battle with these… things. In an effort to flank the assailants he continued around to his left. Stopping at the back corner of the building he peeked around the corner.

Two zombie-like things were engaged in a firefight with Grosse on the far side of the building. He’d have to cover some open ground to get at them, but there was yet another pile of scrap to cover his approach. Logan’s computer brain was not programmed for patience, and it took off running.

‘At least its smart enough to use cover for the approach,’ Julius thought to himself has he sprinted for the cover.

Logan had slowed enough that Julius caught up at the scrap pile. “Looks like we can turn the tables on these things,” Julius said looking down at the Cyber Mastiff.

Logan looked back up and him and seemed to reply with a quiet synthetic ‘Woof’. Julius chuckled and shook his head slightly to himself.

“Come on boy, let’s get ‘em!”

The pair of Enforcers bolted from behind their cover charging head long at their enemies. This caused the pair of zombies to turn their attention to the new immediate threat.

The nearest one adjusted its fire to the new targets, but it missed completely. The second zombie stepped back to get a better angle at Julius and the dog. When it did so Grosse had a clear shot and he took it. Out of the corner of the charging Sergeant’s eye he saw the other zombie jerk sideways and collapse.

Before Julius could close into reach of his power maul Logan was launching into the air and knocking their combined target to the ground. The thing tried to fight off the powerful construct, but it was just too slow.

‘I’m going to have to remind Grosse to sterilize that thing before we let it just walk around the compound again,’ the Sergeant thought to himself.

CRACK!

Some sort of slug whistled close enough to force Julius to flinch. Turning towards the new threat he could see the last zombie had recovered enough to return fire once more. This one was close enough to assault right away, but before he could even flinch Logan was on top of the monster, rending it apart.

Before either Enforcer could move to help out the dog it had finished the target off. As they approached it looked up at its handler and simulated panting, and even wagged its synthetic tail.

“Come on, we best get back to the compound. If this is a sign of things to come around here, we are woefully under prepared,” Julius said glumly.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

“Froster, Kyle, Hicks! Front and center!”

The three men picked up their respective weapons and ran to meet their patrol Sergeant. Each man was stripped down to their waist and the sweat was pouring off them. Looking around Julius noted some dramatic improvement to the perimeter. It was not a permanent solution, but it was good. As he turned back to address his men, a fourth, similarly clad Enforcer walked up.

“Sarge, this is Yake. He arrived while you two were out for your walk. He’s been assigned to our little corner of ‘heaven’,” Froster said. “Yake, this is Sergeant Julius.”

Julius recalled the man’s file, “Your our assigned sniper, are you not?”

“Check sir,” the man replied and produced a slightly modified Bolt Gun. The barrel was slightly longer than the standard issue weapon.

“Welcome to patrol sector One Charlie Seven Six Enforcer.” Julius motioned for Logan to bring something up. “You gentlemen need to get back in your battle rattle. It looks like we are going to have some company.”

Logan dropped the zombie body it had been dragging in the middle of the assembled Enforcers. To a man they each turned pale.

“And it gets better,” Julius said interrupting their thoughts. “They were using this,” he added, dropping the captured weapon on the corpse.

Froster turned to his Sergeant and said, “But I thought…”

“Exaclty,” Julius replied.

Opportunity Knocks

2007-08-17T13:17:00.000-05:00

Ian was almost running. Chigger had passed along a juicy tidbit of information. Some Guilders who had been passing through yesterday had let slip that a new dome had been discovered, one that promised a “’treasure trove’ of archeotech that has not been seen in the underhive in many a century”. He wanted to make sure Dyrke heard about this, and quick.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs, in his haste, Ian bowled Amber over. The pair ended up intertwined on the floor of the hallway.

“Um… are you ok?” Ian asked as he stood up, and then helped the woman to her feet.

“Yea, I’m good. Where you off to in such a hurry?”

“I need to see Dyrke. Is he down here?”

“Check the main room. I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Catch you later for dinner,” Ian said over his shoulder as he jogged off down the hall.

“Looking forward to it,” was her whispered reply.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

“No.”

Ian’s mind was having a hard time wrapping around the words coming out of his leader’s mouth. He had grown to trust this man with his life, but it just didn’t make sense. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. This kind of thing does not come knocking very often.

“But, Boss…”

“I said no Ian. We are in control of a vital resource for House Van Saar right here and we are not moving.”

Ian adjusted himself and waited further reprimand. When it didn’t come he allowed himself to exhale. Dyrke dismissed the young man with a wave of his hand. Turning back to his thoughts Dyrke realized that there would be other chances to contribute to this new find. It would just have to be from afar.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Fist dropped his half full duffle bag at his feet and looked around. The cramped room was piled high with boxes. Looking around he couldn’t see anyone.

“Anyone here”, he called out as he knocked on the small counter.

“We meet once more Enforcer, or should I say, ‘Sergeant’ Fist.”

Fist turned to meet the familiar voice. “Judge Malcavoy,” Fist said as he assumed a parade stance, “a pleasure to see you again.”

“Yes,” the judge motioned for his two Cyber Mastiff companions to sit and assume a guarded stance. The sound of the gyros was slightly unnerving, even for one who trains around the beasts regularly. Fist shifted in his stance slightly. “It would seem that you have continued to prove yourself, despite my first impressions of you Enforcer. You have proven me incorrect in my assessment. A rarity, I assure you.”

Fist was about to thank the Judge but was not allowed the opportunity. Producing a large envelope from somewhere within his commissar-like overcoat the Judge continued.

“I have taken steps to arrange for you and your Patrol’s equipment. Also, enclosed within this envelop you will find a dossier of each man I hand selected.”

Fist ripped open the envelope as Judge Malcavoy continued.

“Unfortunately time did not allow me to assemble all of the men before you are to depart. I will personally see to it that they arrive as quickly as possible. The ones who were readily available I have waiting outside.”

Fist reviewed the roster and each man’s specialty. ‘Heavy Stubber, good. Grenade Launcher’, Fist would have preferred a flamer but it would be fine, it would have to be apparently. ‘A sniper? Interesting. A Handler with Cyber Mastiff, excellent. A pair of assault trained Enforcers and a trio of standard shotgun Enforcers – they should form a good core. This is odd…’

“Sir, this is an excellent mix of men and equipment. But I wonder,” Fist hesitated a moment. He did not want to come across as questioning his superior’s decision. “Why a demolitions expert? In my experience…”

“Your experience is barely worth noting,” Judge Malcavoy interrupted. “Froster is an excellent man, and you will find that he will be able to get you through any obstacle. Any more questions?”

Fist hesitated. Even if he did he wouldn’t speak up now.

“Oh, and there is one more thing. You will no longer go by the name ‘Fist’. It is to crude and is not a proper reflection of one who represents Lord Helmawr.”

Fist looked up, slightly confused.

“Your name is now ‘Julius’. A more proper and appropriate name don’t you think?”

But before Fist could respond the judge turned on his heals and left. The Cyber Mastiffs turning inward followed on the heels of their master.

“Oh, and you won’t be carrying that barbaric shotgun anymore either,” he called over his disappearing shoulder. “I have left you a present there on the counter.”

Fist stood their dumbfounded. Was there nothing this man did not feel he could control? He started to wonder if he would ever enjoy any sort of free reign, even as a Sergeant. He began to loathe this unwanted mentor.

Turning to the counter was a rectangular military style container; the locking clasps were facing him. Not knowing what else to do he slowly opened up the box.

Inside, held with form fitting insulating foam, was a Power Maul, two power cells, a slightly decorated Bolt Pistol with ‘Julius’ and his new rank etched and stenciled into the side, and two full clips of ammunition.

“One can never overlook the generosity of others", Fist thought to himself. "Opportunity does not come knocking all that often.”

Dome Rush

2007-08-03T11:29:00.000-05:00

“Corporal Fist, report to the Commandant’s Office immediately. Corporal Fist to the Commandant’s Office.”

Fist stared at the intercom for a moment. For the past one hundred and fifty days he had been pushed to his limits while training to become a Sergeant in Lord Helmawr’s Enforcers. For all that time he had managed to keep his nose clean and out of trouble. He could not imagine what he could have done to draw this kind of attention, so it was with great trepidation that he reported as ordered.

Fist’s knock on the Commandant’s office was answered promptly and he was called inside. The office was plush by the utilitarian standards of the Enforcers. Several bookcases were lined up along the back wall behind the desk that dominated the room. The desk itself was centered underneath a rare fiber-optic light that funneled sun light this far into the interior of the hive from the outside, a rarity that the stature of the office provided. The sharp contrast of light from what Fist was used to, almost distracted him enough to keep him from noticing the heavy set man standing off to the side of the room.

“Ah, Corporal Fist, please have a seat.” The Commandant said to Fist without standing. When Fist produced a salute he waved it off and again directed him to the chair.

Fist thought about refusing the offer, that he would prefer to stand, but then thought better of it. As he sat down, the man standing off to the left of his commanding officer shifted and started to say something, which was met by a hand held up. This silenced the stranger, at least for the moment.

“Corporal, I have been reviewing your records and I must say that I am happy with your progress. So much so, that I am recommending you for a new assignment, effective immediately.” The Commandant watched Fist for a moment before continuing.

“The gentleman to your right, my left, has brought a situation to the attention of Lord Helmawr himself, a situation that requires our immediate response. You have been assigned to a brand new precinct in the underhive. I know it is not an assignment worthy of your achievements at this academy, but it requires your unique leadership qualities. You will be leaving immediately, and with an understaffed patrol. Do you have any questions?”

Corporal Fist resisted the urge to clear his throat before replying. “Only one sir, will I still graduate with my class?”

The Commandant chuckled as he stood. “No son. You have achieved a good enough score to pass this course. Your record will show satisfactory completion of this school, you are effectively promoted to Sergeant as of this afternoon, and the only thing left is for you to report down to the supply Sergeant and draw your kit. Your newly assigned patrol will meet you there.”

Sergeant Fist stood and accepted his Commandant’s offered hand. “Thank you sir. I will enforce Lord Helmawr’s edicts with all effort.”

The two men shook hands, Fist offered one more salute, and then marched out of the office to begin the next chapter in his career.

Once the door shut behind the eager young man, the Guilder finally spoke up.

“I can’t have such a newly discovered dome to be entrusted to such an inexperienced whelp Colonel. This demands an ‘Iron hand’, a hand that wields the power of Lord Helmawr himself.”

“Bring it down a notch Guilder. This ‘inexperienced whelp’, as you refer to him, comes with the direct recommendation of Judge Malkavoy himself. You will not find a man more ready to accept this responsibility. At least not one that’s available at this time.”

“Very well Colonel. But be advised that you will be held responsible if he should fail in his mission.”

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

“How dare you lose face like that?!”

The proud Escher warrior actually cringed under her Matriarch’s rebuke.

“As a result of your failures we have lost a major route to our holdings within the underhive!” The elder was beginning to get red in the face, and Fushia was getting nervous.

“Your team is getting split up. We can no longer afford such visible mistakes at the Bifrost! We are taking five members of your gang and sending them on an errand for the greater House. As for you, you are being sent further down to manage our chemical salvage operations.”

Fushia stood up to defend her honor. Instead she felt two heavy hands land on her shoulders and pressed her back into her seat.

“You leave immediately, take her away.”

The gang leader was dragged snarling from the room. Once she was away the door to the elder Escher’s office was closed.

‘I just can’t tolerate incompetence such as that,’ thought the woman. ‘And now I can have a more… direct influence upon our efforts regarding this recent discovery… coup more of the profits.’

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

"Cross! Come ‘ere!”

The old gravelly voice caught the younger man’s attention. Turning around to look at his father, still dressed in his grease and soot encrusted factory overalls, he noticed that he was carrying a data slate. Not wanting to keep his father waiting he ran quickly across the small courtyard that lay behind their house.

“It would seem you and your fellow delinquents have been given a job.”

“We’re not delinquents pop,” Cross said as he finally got close to his father. “I just choose to run with a gang instead of working the factory.”

“What’s wrong with working in the factory? It’s honest work.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it… I just want to get out and see something other than the smelting pots here in Hive City.”

Taking the data slate from his father Cross read it.

Directive from the office of House Orlock. To the faithful members of Smelting Dome 6796. You are hereby directed to provide your House with one gang of faithful men. They are to report to the local mayor fully equipped to accompany House Orlock representatives down hive. This is to take place immediately.

Signed,

Mayor Dentz

“Are you sure you want to send me Pop?” Cross said as he looked back into the face of his father.

“There’s no one else I would consider, make me proud. And, don’t call me Pop.”

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Lusion paced back and forth. He could feel the eyes of his men on his back as he crossed the small room, each trying to discern what was going through their leader’s mind.

‘There is just no way to verify this source,’ the Delaque leader thought to himself. Turning around he walked slowly back to the other side of the make shift room he and his boys had set up down in the tunnels that had become their refuge. ‘Not while we are holed up down here.’

This continued on for several more minutes before anyone dared to say a word.

“Come on boss, what is it?” Shade finally asked. “I mean you call us down here and all we’ve done is sit and watch you walk back and forth.”

Lusion turned and looked each of his four subordinates, all that was left of a once might gang.

“Gentlemen,” he said pausing for affect. “It has come to my attention that a new dome has been discovered, and not far from where we stand.”

The Delaque raised his hand to quiet the murmuring that had jumped up among their small group.

“It is not a large find, and travel to and from is difficult for now, but it has promise.”

The news encouraged Logan. ‘Finally, a new start,’ he thought to himself.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Caldius strode confidently to the makeshift platform. He had a mission, and he was going to show these people the way, even if it killed them.

“Fellow citizens of the Undying Emperor! A new day is emerging.” He allowed his voice to trail off. When he was confident that he indeed had his audience’s full attention he continued.

“Citizens, I am banding men together to reclaim once what was once lost for the Emperor.”

Again he allowed his voice to trail off before continuing.

“I have been given sponsorship from among those who seek to share with all of Necromunda, the news, and purge those who would oppose the undying Emperor.”

Slowly raising his hands Caldius scanned the crowd as he had seen others do, “House Cawdor calls you forth to follow me on this mission. All who seek to share what we know come with me!”

And with that Caldius turned and decended from his pulpit. From among the two score of people who Caldius had actually drew attention, a small handful of men moved to follow the hooded man. From the balcony across the street two men, hooded and robed in orange, moved.

“He has passion, I’ll give him that,” the shorter of the two men said to the other.

“Hmm,” the second man nodded in agreement. “But passion will only take him so far. Unless he can learn how to stir the masses, how to share his passion, it will only take him so far.” Then the pair turned to leave. “And if he can’t inspire vision, then he will be of limited use to us.”

-=-=-=0=-=-=-
Part 2

Gorit growled loud enough that several of his ‘bodyguards’ actually turned their heads to look at him. The Guilders had graciously provided him with, “three of the Hive’s finest” to look after him. “Humph”, he grumbled again. ‘These dregs couldn’t fight their way out of a saloon at closing time,” the Goliath thought to himself.

For the past ten hours the three men, and one woman, stumbled their way through the tunnels that their Leader, Gorit liked the sound of that, had brought them to. The air was stagnant and reeked of a wide variety of unidentifiable odors that, combined with the very low levels of light available, made them all very nervous.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the tunnel had widened enough to accommodate a small town. Well, what once had been a town. Old stores and drinking holes lined the street. Some of the windows were boarded up, others were missing completely. Debris and sediment from age old sewage lined the streets, and there was not a sound to be heard.

A slightly rotund man, with his long beard twisted into twin braids, stopped short and held up his hand. He turned his head around so quickly that the braids and tails from his bandana flew straight out. “D’you hear that?”

The rest of the group stopped short and for several moments they all stood perfectly still. Just as a lithe female of the group, a well armed bounty hunter type, turned to chastise the bearded scummer, some dust and dirt skittered off a building at the far end of the street.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

The scent of flesh things threatened to overwhelm its self control. For so long it had waited and now they were almost in reach.

As the flesh things moved closer it signaled the others to prepare to attack. One of the others could not wait and moved too soon, alerting the flash things. Now the targets know that it is near. It signaled the attack.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Gorit growled loudly. There was no way he was going to back down now. Not when he was so close to staking his claim to this dome.

Krank, one of the scummers hired to watch his back by the Guilders who were sponsoring him, had rushed ahead to inspect the falling dirt. He entered an old gambling den and was out of sight for several minutes when a flurry of gunfire erupted from within. The strobe of the gunfire within, lit up several of the windows, but didn’t reveal anything. When the gunfire stopped the street was quiet once more. The three others remained where they were waiting for Krank to come back and report what he had seen, but when nothing more was seen or heard for several more minutes they grew restless.

“Hey Vype,” Gorit called over to his female bounty hunter. “Why don’t cha go check out what’s up with Krank?”

“Stuff it muscle brain!” she spit back, never taking her eyes off the building her friend had disappeared into.

“Alright then, we’ll all go.” Gorit said.

The remaining two hired guns stared at their employer for a minute, not sure if they were supposed to believe him or not.

“You heard me! Move it!” And to emphasis his point he leveled his brand new shotgun at their backs.

The three of them approached the old den warily, weapons at the ready. There was no further indication of any movement and the silence was tormenting them. Even as they entered the front room the silence was over powering.

Several tables and chairs lay strewn about the room, as well several mummified corpses, the remnants of yesteryear. Krank was no where to be seen.

“Krank!” Gorit called out. “Not funny man!”

Vype edged closer to the far doorway, and Gorit just panned his shotgun around. The bearded scummer, Gorit had never bother to learn his name, moved to far side of the room. As he approached what used to be the bar he had to step over several corpses, and he was careful not to disturb their slumber. When he reached his objective he leaned over to look over the bar.

Gorit’s heart leapt into his throat as the rotund little man let out a blood curdling scream that defied his size and gender. Spinning to face the new threat Gorit saw his hireling being pulled over the bar and out of sight.

On instinct he began pumping solid slug shells into and through the bar in an attempt to kill whatever it was.

Vype also turned to face the threat. From her vantage point she could see behind the bar. The sight that met her eyes caused the veteran to hesitate. When she finally began to bring up her boltgun to bear something shot out from the far room and struck her in the left temple. She never even let out a scream.

That was all it took. Gorit broke and ran back out into the street.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

The flesh things responded just as it had anticipated. It was good to feed once more, but it needed more. With a simple gesture the others began to pursue the survivor. It was only a matter of time.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Hivequake

2007-07-03T13:07:00.000-05:00

They should have seen it coming. A month back it had rained for six days straight. Not just a light drizzle from a factory flushing its storage tanks somewhere above, No this was a torrential downpour.

The effluent rain drenched everything, and everyone, as it cascaded down from the Hive City factories somewhere above, and continued on to the depths below the Bifrost. In its wake slime coated everything, even things not directly in its path. The simple accumulation of condensation from the increased humidity made sure of that. There was more.

For the past three days reports from the habs just below the Bifrost showed an increase in Ripper Jacks, giant rats, and even a few large spiders moving into the area. When Chigger started to blast away with his shotgun at a scurrying rodent, right in the middle of ‘Happy Hour’, Ian new something wasn’t right. He just couldn’t put his finger on it. Then, six hours ago, the streets had gotten eerily quiet. There was no movement other than the occasional human. That was until three minutes ago.

For the past three minutes the entire hive felt like it was going to collapse right on top of their heads. The Bifrost swayed violently, and the crash of dishes and bottles of Wildsnake in the drinking hall could be heard all the way down into the “Steel Spider’s” lair.

Ian managed to get himself up on his hands and knees, and not knowing what else to do he quickly crawled underneath his long workbench along the back wall of his sickbay/hab-room, if for no other reason than to have something over his head that would protect him from all the dust falling from the ceiling. Amber was already there, her eyes open wide.

When the hive finally decided to stop shaking the two lovers crawled out from under their shelter to asses the damage. Tables had overturned, a few medical supplies had been spilled, but for the most part their little corner of the hive was intact.

“Is everyone OK?” Dyrke called from down the hall.

Ian could hear a few acknowledgements coming from the other “Spiders”, to which he added his own. Looking around the room, it was a mess, but there was no permanent damage.

“What the hell happened,” Ian said out loud.

Amber stared at him for a moment before replying. “Haven’t you ever experienced a hive quake before?”

“No,” Ian said as he picked up an overturned table. “How often does that happen?”

Amber thought about her reply as she continued to pick up the debris. “Often enough that you should know what it is.”

The rest of the time the two cleaned up in silence.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Within the darkness it felt the rumbling and sensed the import of the omen. Slowly it began to move. It had to know for sure. For over a century its mind dealt with the never ending torment. Now there was a chance that it would be able to feed once again.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

Gorit stood back up and shook the dust off of his muscle bound body. His Goliath gang, the ‘Iron Mandibles’, had been down kicking in some heads at their mine when the hive quake had struck. When Scar told him to sit tight he had complained, after all he could do with a little recreation too. But now he couldn’t see where the entrance to mine used to be. As he reached out to start digging a large hole off to his right caught his attention out of the corner of his eye.

“Funny, I thought that shaft was over this way,” Gorit thought to himself.

As Gorit entered into the tunnel a cool breeze met his face. It was almost as if the hive itself was letting out a deep breath after holding it in for too long. The air was stale and constant, with a slight haze of dust.

Working his way deeper into the tunnel he realized that this was not the mine shaft he was looking for, rather it was an old rail line tunnel. Although the tunnel was pinched and partially collapsed in many places, there was ample room to maneuver.

After working his way over, under, around, and through the maze for over an hour it finally opened up into a huge dome. There was enough light from far off sources that Gorit could tell – this was the find of his life!

He returned to the entrance as fast as he could and without continuing the search for his missing companions, Gorit made a bee-line for the nearest settlement that was not a Goliath stronghold. He wanted to keep the profits of his new claim to himself.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

It reminded itself to be patient. The flesh thing had gotten away before it could claim its prize. But it had waited for so long, and the stench of the thing filled its nostrils. Its patience was not strong.

The omen was true. The way was open. It would gather the others. Once they were all together, then they could move on and feed once more.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

The group of Guilders had met in a hurry, so certain protocols had been bypassed. If the news was true an important opportunity presented itself. This was one of those once-in-a-lifetime deals, and none of these men wanted to miss out on it.

“This is truly an important discovery,” said the largest of the five. “We must move on this information now!” The others quickly nodded their agreement. “The problem is always in the details. How do we get our respective feet in the door? Before these parasites infest everything that is.”

The men quieted down as they each ran through various scenarios in their minds. A few times one of the men would look up, the others would look towards him, and then he would go back to his own thoughts without saying a word. This went on for several minutes. Finally the first man spoke up.

“I think I have an idea. We shall each ‘leak’ tidbits of this information, and also encourage our various contacts to move on it. Allow them to through their resources into the breach, so to speak, and then as they have subdued the area we can move in and set up our respective shops. For a cut of the profits of course.”

“Of course,” several of the others agreed. “But what of this ‘Gorit’? a small Guilder from the back asked, causing the other four to look around and down at him.

“That’s simple,” the first Guilder responded. “We will send him back first, in order to stake his claim we’ll tell him – maybe even hire a few scum as ‘bodyguards’ for protection.” The others chuckled at that last statement. “Who knows, maybe that little problem will take care of itself. If not, we will make… further adjustments down the road.”

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

The scent of the living filled its nostrils once more. It was true. After waiting for so long, it would finally be able to satisfy the ravenous hunger that had filled it every moment for over a century.

Slaughter House

2007-06-07T13:13:00.000-05:00

Logan let out a long breath. The moisture that escaped quickly steamed up and dispersed into the surrounding air. A slight shiver ran through his body as he tried to keep warm.

Oh he had passed the trials to become a full fledged member of the Couriers, but that did not mean his fellow Delaque were bound to treat him much differently. After three years of being a full member he had not moved beyond being considered anything more than a juve. He had been assigned to keep tabs on the gang’s stock yard holdings. In this case it was a small processing plant that kept tab on a herd of twenty sump cattle. It was considered to be a step up from working the mushroom fields, but Logan did not see it all that differently.

He still had shovel slop, he was still treated like dung by all his neighbors, and he was always left behind when the gang went out. He was given marginal respect by those at the slaughter house, he was a gang member after all, but it was in name only.

Logan paced up and down the meat locker. With the dome being so close to the outer wall the heating systems were marginal at best. It was a simple matter to simply shut of the air handlers all together to keep the air temperatures cooler than the surrounding area. The fungus that grew on the walls served to renew what little oxygen that was required, as well as the phosphorus light that cast an eerie red glow on the hanging carcasses. It was a good place to get alone and clear his head – despite the stench that permeated everything. And today he needed to get his thoughts together.

‘They’re never going to trust me,’ Logan thought to himself. ‘With the exception of Lusion none of them even talk to me.’ Logan had reached the end of the row and turned back around to head back the other way.

‘I think I need to strike out on my own,’ he pondered. ‘At least I would know where I really stood.’

A loud explosion shook the floor beneath him almost knocking him to his knees. Logan instinctively drew his semi-automatic and headed out onto the factory floor.

As Logan emerged from the meat locker he looked around. Several muscle-bound Goliaths were moving around, shooting factory workers indiscriminately.

“AAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!”

Logan spun on his heals. A Savage bald headed Goliath was charging down on him, a massive two handed hammer poised over his left shoulder, yelling at the top of his lungs.

Logan threw his arms up, one in a vain attempt to stop the swing of the bludgeon, the other to bring his pistol to bear. Without thought his finger was squeezing the trigger as fast as the muscles could twitch. Several of the rounds struck home but the man did not even flinch as the hammer began its arc.

The last thing Logan remembered before everything went black was the sensation of sailing through the air. Not the actual impact of the Goliath’s weapon that sent him flying, but the sensation of weightlessness.

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

At the edge of the fog that clouded his mind Logan could hear the roar of insesent gun fire. With each staccato his head threatened to explode in pain. Slowly the clouds cleared enough for him to look around.

His hands and feet were bound with some kind of cord, and he was draped across someone’s shoulder. As his mind cleared he realized that the pain was not restricted to his head, his entire torso throbbed in unison with the pulses coursing through his brain.

“Dem Delaques sure can’t take their lumps.”

The source of the voice came from some where beyond his view.

“Scar says his boys have crushed da so called Couriers in his sector too.”

Logan craned his head to try and see who it was that was talking, but all he could see was the muscle bound back of whoever carried him like a sack of feed.

“Hey Largo, looks like that whelp your carrying is stirring.”

Logan felt his bearer spin slightly, first one way, then the other, in an attempt to look at Logan. It only made Logan’s head and body ache more.

“Where ya trying to go runt?”

Logan felt the voice rumble through his host. He could only groan in reply. Both of the Goliath laughed at Logan’s obvious discomfort.

“This should make you more comfortable.”

Logan felt the man whose shoulders he was slung across, shift his weight and then lunge backwards, slamming Logan against a bulkhead.

‘Strange,’ he thought to himself. ‘That should have hurt.’ And then the blanket of darkness washed over him again.

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

“Scar says this runt ain’t worth nothin’ to the guilders.”

As Logan’s mind began to rouse him from unconsciousness it also let him know that he was in a lot of pain. This time he didn’t try to look at who ever was talking. Instead he used the pain in his body to perform a mental inventory of what was still there. It was then he realized that he could not feel his arms and he almost panicked, but a line of pain across his back made him realize it was just because they were draped around a pole, which in turn was being used to hold him in a semi-upright position.

“Yea, but look at ‘im. He ain’t gonna be much use to us in da mines either.” A second voice chimed from somewhere else in the room.

“Well, he’ll either bulk up real quick, or we ain’t gotta worry about him escapin’ no more.”

The two men erupted in laughter. Logan’s head just swam, almost like it was no longer attached to his body.

Just as the darkness threatened to envelop him once more the door to the room burst in and fell off of its hinges. Logan struggled to raise his head and see what was happening.

Two men, two Delaques he had never seen before, burst through the door. One held a shotgun braced against his hip, the other had a plasma rifle pulled up into his shoulder. Both men were sending shot after shot through the air, and Logan could hear the grunts of his captors as they were both hit several times.

Logan’s mind had not yet grasped what was happening and he stared almost through his rescuers as the one with the plasma gun shouldered his weapon and knelt down next to him, while the man with the shotgun spun around to cover the doorway.

The man now kneeling next to him was speaking, Logan knew this because he could see the man’s mouth moving, but it was as if his voice was from a far off distance and lagged a half second behind.

“Lusion sent us to get you. He’s right out side.”

With considerable effort Logan nodded in reply while the man cut the cords that held his arms in place. Once the cords snapped Logan fell to his knees, and almost toppled over onto his face.

As the blood rushed back into his arms they screamed in pain. ‘Yup, they’re still there,’ Logan said to himself. He was still too incoherent for his mind to engage his mouth to release the scream that was now running through his brain.

Reaching down with one arm Logan’s rescuer now supported him as he practically carried him out of the room, with the shotgun wielding rescuer leading the way.

Just as the men had said Lusion stood on the other side of the door with a bolt pistol held at arms length in each hand, one in either direction.

“We need to get out of here, NOW! Blowing the door like that has probably drawn some unwanted attention, and we are in no position to hold these muscle brains off for very long.”

Lusion had a concerned look in his face as he looked at Logan.

“Here’s your stubber kid,” Lusion said as he handed Logan his familiar semi-automatic pistol. It felt incredibly heavy in his hands. “I’ve got your heirloom waiting for you back at out new home.” And with a final pat on his shoulder Lusion yelled for them to go.

Half walking, half being dragged, Logan followed the two other men down a short hallway, and then out into a familiar looking courtyard. Unceremoniously Logan was dumped over a short wall of a fountain, and then followed by the other two.

“Alright, down you go,” the man with the shotgun said as he hefted off a small grate in the bottom of the fountain. Logan looked down and groaned. This was not going to be easy.

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

“They’re all gone Logan.”

Logan tried to wrap his mind around what Lusion was trying to tell him.

“The ‘Iron Mandibles’ wiped the ‘Couriers’ out, we are all that is left Logan.”

Logan looked around the room. Lusion had introduced them all to him.

Shade, the Plasma Gun wielder, was the sole remaining tech. Yaris sported a lasgun and didn't talk much. Bartol seemed to revere his Shotgun, which he kept immaculate. That left Lusion, who Logan had known forver, and himself.

Five men. Only five. Out of, how many? The Couriers had once been at least forty strong, and now this was all that was left.

“And we have been forced down here,” Logan finally replied.

“These tunnels have served us for a long time. Krav never kept any maps of them, and he was careful to not use them very often. We should be safe down here,” Lusion said as he walked over to a corner where the small pile of the gangs precious belongings were stacked. “I believe you are going to want this before we begin to rebuild.

Lusion pulled out a sheathed sword from the pile. Logan’s mind flashed back to when he first found it after his mother’s death. As Lusion handed him the heirloom Logan ran his hands over the scabbard, feeling the ancient kill markings his mother had marked on it. With one hand he pulled the blade free from its home to look on the blade. The ancient letters etched into the steel almost cried out to him. “Death comes swiftly,” Logan said quietly to himself.

“Yes it does,” Lusion said, interrupting his thoughts. “And that is exactly what the ‘Tunnel Rats’ are going to inflict upon her enemies.”

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

Welcoming

2007-06-06T10:47:00.001-05:00

Ian actually did a double take. From behind he didn’t recognize the woman sitting at the end of the bar, but Chigger was chatting up a storm with her and refilled her drink without hesitation.

Looking around the Bifrost Ian was a little troubled. Amber had arranged to meet him here after he had performed his tasks for Dyrke, the leader of the Steel Spiders, but he couldn’t see her anywhere. There was something about the woman’s hair though…

Chigger made eye contact with him and smiled, then waved for him to come over. Ian nodded and started over to the bar. There was something strangely familiar about the woman, he just couldn’t place it. When Ian got within three meters the woman spun around.

“I was beginning to wonder when you would show up,” Amber said smiling back at him.

Ian had been so distracted by his curiosity he had failed to notice the other tell-tale signs of who he was looking at. The sword slung across her back, the auto pistol strapped to her thigh, and not to mention the red hair pulled neatly back into ponytail.

“I, uh… I had to finish up… have you been waiting long?” Ian’s face flushed red.

Amber’s newly issued body glove was as form fitting as ever. Ian liked it much better than her old Escher rags.

For the next hour Ian and Amber just sat and talked. Even with the crowded common area, the Bifrost offered more privacy than the halls of the Spiders lair that lay beneath the bridge town. Even the room set aside for the Spiders within the drinking hall was no guarantee of seclusion. Here at least they could talk without the pretense of being alone, besides, Chigger assured them that their room would be available in just a couple of hours, so in the meantime the two of them just sat and enjoyed each others company.

Just as Chigger handed over the keys to the room to Ian, Dyrke spotted them.

“Amber, Ian, I have a couple of pairs of boots coming to see about joining the Spiders. I need the two of you to watch the room and make sure we are not disturbed.”

Dyrke didn’t even wait for a response from his subordinates; he just nodded to Chigger, asked for his usual, and stepped into Spider’s room. Amber looked at Ian, but what could they do? Their leader gave them a job to do and they were bound to do it.

Over the next two hours Ian and Amber stood outside the door while several men of various sizes and kit came and went. None of the visitors were allowed entrance unless they presented a small token that was stamped with an impression of a spider with an anvil symbol on its back. The whole time all Ian could think of was that what little time they had was slipping away.

Finally Dyrke emerged with two men in step behind him. One man carried a plain looking lasgun over one shoulder. His body glove was worn, and his hair disheveled, but the weapon was well kept. The other man had a much neater appearence. In a cross draw holster on the left side of his chest was a bolt pistol, and in his hands he supported a Plasma Rifle

“Spider’s,” Dyrke said as he addressed the two guards, “I want to introduce two new members to the fold. Xander,” Dyrke indicated with a nod to the first man,” comes from another team who recently… folded. Kordite here,” indicated with a motion of his thumb” comes down from Hive City. He’s going to be helping Boanerges in the shop. Ian, make sure he gets to where he needs to go. Amber, you take Xander and introduce him to Katan, he’ll take it from there.”

“Yes sir,” the two said in unison. Ian’s stomach sank. His carefully made plans to get alone with Amber would have to wait for another time.

Evolution

2007-05-25T14:36:00.000-05:00

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

2007-05-18T09:11:00.000-05:00

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

2007-05-16T22:38:00.000-05:00

“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

2007-05-09T11:21:00.000-05:00

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

2007-05-04T13:40:00.000-05:00

“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.”

No Turning Back

2007-04-06T08:41:00.000-05:00

“Can you hear me now?” Ian whispered into Rogers left ear. There was no discernable reaction from the man. Then Ian tapped the palm of his hand with his fingers, still no reaction.

“I have good news and I have bad news Rogers. The good news is that you are healing up nicely. The bad news is that you have lost the hearing in your left ear. There’s not much else I can do for you.”

“It’s alright ‘Doc’. You did the best you could.

Ian shook his head and smiled. “’Doc’, I could get used to that”, he said to himself. Walking over to his workbench in the rear of the sickbay Ian prepared to get back to work on his various ‘projects’. Although he did not have anything promising it kept his mind off other things.

“There you are”, Dyrke said as he entered, passing Rogers in the doorway. “Have you had a chance to visit Chigger this week?”

“On the table by the door there” Ian said without getting up. He was hoping he could get back to his distractions without prolonged conversation.

“Good, good. Feels pretty heavy, Chigger must really like you kid.”

Ian just nodded and turned his attention back to the workbench.

Even though Dyrke caught on that Ian was not in the mood for conversation he kept on. “I understand Amb… I mean ‘Panthera’, lost something dear to her when you brought her in.”

“A gift from someone she considered to be a friend. A sword”, Ian replied.

“Then she might be interested in this.”

Ian turned to face his leader once more. In Dyrke’s hands he held a sword in its scabbard. It was not as ornate as the one Amber left behind but it was a fine Van Saar specimen. The scabbard was made of a dull black plastic that fit the blade perfectly.

Dyrke walked over and handed it to Ian. “I’d like for you to give it to her. I think she would prefer that it came from you.”

“These are a little hard to come by. Thanks Dyrke. I think she will appreciate it.”

Ian drew out the perfectly straight blade. The handle and blade were one solid piece. The blade used only a single cutting edge that ran from the tip almost down to the hand guard which was formed seamlessly between the blade and handle. The guard was a simple unadorned oval. The grip was overlaid with synthetic foam that both conformed to the hands of the wielder and provided a non-slip grip with enough room to get both hands around it. Sliding it back into place Ian looked back up to Dyrke, “I think she will get some good use out of this.”

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

“I hear the Escher are exceptional in hand to hand combat. I was wondering if you would be willing to show me some of the moves you picked up while you were with them.”

Amber turned away from the doorway to her room, leaving the door open but not inviting Ian in either. When she reached the far end of her small room she turned back around and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“I didn’t think you wanted to see me anymore, now that I’m one of the Spiders that is.”

“Well, you just seemed so pissed at me the last time we talked… and I was worried…”

“About what? That the other guys would pick on you for shacking up with the new recruit?”

“Um, no. I was worried that they might mind that I was… “shacking up” … with an Escher. Because that is what I thought you were before Dyrke sent me to bring you in.”

“What do you care what they think?”

“I care because they took me in when I didn’t know where else to go. Just like they are doing for you now.”

The last statement seemed to disarm her a little and she looked away.

“Can I come in? I thought I’d check on that bruise you received while guarding the Ratskin, besides I come bearing a gift.”

“A doctor who makes house calls, how sweet.”

“Well, I’m no doctor. I’m barely a medic, but I do make house calls”, Ian said with a coy smile.

Amber motioned for him to come in, “what is this gift you speak of?”

As Ian pulled the new sword around from behind his back he stepped through the doorway and shut the door behind him with his free hand.

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

Every one of the ‘Steel Spiders’ were there. It was a time to celebrate, or so they were told. In reality it was just an excuse to unwind and spend their credits while supporting their good friend Chigger and the Bifrost. They all just wanted to forget about the Ratskin Chief that got away.

Sitting around one table Boanerges, Rogers, and Hargrave were trying their best to entertain a bar wench each. It was none too hard either as the drinks flowed freely.

Dyrke sat at another with Cacee, Katan, and their newest team member – who everyone knew now as Panthera. Here the atmosphere was more subdued, but there were no frowns to be seen.

Renold kept himself entertained by throwing a few rounds of darts with Ian. Neither of these last two had been in the mood for either ‘Wild Snake’ or ‘Second Best’ so they kept to themselves.

“Come on over here Panthera and have a seat with old Hargrave darlin’.”

This caught Ian’s attention causing his last toss to miss the target completely. Without thinking he just said over his shoulder, “She spoken for”. The room grew quiet.

“What’d you say lad?” came Hargrave’s slurred response as he stood knocking over his chair.

Before Ian could respond Amber stood up and moved in between the two men.

“He said I am not interested in your company, so have another round on him and take a seat.”

For several seconds the room stayed quiet no one really knowing what to say.

BAM, BAM, BAM! A heavy pounding on the door broke the tension within the room.

A voice called through the door, “Traitor! Come out and face the Cats! We know how you betrayed us! Amber, you might as well come out and face your judgment!”

Dyrke held up a hand to silence the rest of the room as he stood. Walking to the door he calmly opened it as several of the ‘Spiders’ readied weapons behind him.

“There is no one here by that name. You are obviously mistaken, so why don’t you just scurry back to your hole before something bad happens.”

Even from the back of the room Ian could tell the drinking hall beyond the door had also grown quiet. All of the Spiders were now on their feet.

“Dyrke, you know better than to cross us. Bring out the traitor bitch and we’ll call it even.”

Dyrke opened the door wide and stepped through. “Can’t do it Fushia. I can’t give you what I don’t have. The only people with me tonight are the ‘Steel Spiders’ and our invited guests. Besides it would be a shame to embarrass you and your girls so publicly… again”.

Ian caught Amber’s sleeve and tugged her towards the back of the group now following Dyrke through the doorway. ‘Not here’ he whispered, and then they both followed Dyrke out into the main hall of the Bifrost. All of the ‘Black Cats’ were standing there with their leader.

The two gangs spread our and faced each other. Each set of eyes were locked on their opponent. So much so that the ‘Black Cats’ paid little attention to Amber who was now dressed in the blue, grey, and black pixeled bodysuit of her fellow Van Saar gangers – and no longer sporting her distinctive ponytail. That is until the ‘Black Cat’ known as Jade caught her moving into line with her new family. But before the Escher could alert the others to her discovery a tall trench coated Enforcer stepped onto the floor in between the two gangs.

“I know you all are not thinking about what I think you’re thinking about… are you.”

The Enforcer Sergeant looked back and forth between the two gang leaders. As he did so the distinctive sound of several shotguns being primed sounded to reinforce his statement.

Ian saw that two separate patrols were no on either side of the drinking hall. On one side stood a wall of Enforcers armed with shotguns and a heavy stubber. On the other a group obviously equipped to get in and mix up as they were armed with suppression shields, power mauls, and of course the distinctive cyber mastiff. This was not a good place to be – in between the two teams and no where to hide.

“The Black Cats have crossed your path Dyrke. Your luck is about to change!” The Escher leader yelled across the floor.

Dyrke stood there and chuckled under his breath. “See you out in the wastes”, was his only reply.

Fight Another Day

2007-03-30T15:47:00.000-05:00

“You can’t take it with you.”

Amber was about to protest but just nodded instead. ‘Snip… snip… snip’ locks of her red hair began falling past her shoulders into her lap.

“Do you have to cut off so much?”

Ian stopped cutting and moved around and looked her in the eyes. “Only if you really want to get out. You said so yourself. The Black Cats were on to you. It was either get out now, or they were going to cut you out – literally.”

Amber nodded her understanding and Ian finished the task. In the place of a proud top knot pony tail was a flat top crew cut. Looking into the mirror that was bolted to the guestroom wall of the Bifrost she rubber the top of her head.

“This is going to take some getting used to,” she said as she turned to look back at Ian.

“There’s still one more thing. You’re going to have to ditch this,” he said as he lifted up a beautifully decorated sheathed sword.

“That was a gift from Jade!”

“And it would identify you immediately as the spy who once walked among them. You’d never be able to show your face around the Bifrost again.”

With sadness in her eyes Amber nodded once more.

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

“Where have you been?”

“It’s good to see you too boss.” Ian could see the irritation in Dyrke’s eyes and thought better of pushing his luck. “I would like to introduce you to ‘Panthera’.”

Dyrke’s face changed. “I thought you… would have been… um, that is…”

“Right, that is what makes a good spy, no? Anyway, I have already filed my report and have been instructed to not return to hive city. Apparently I am no longer considered an asset by ‘Internal Affairs’.”

“So you can not go back home?”

Amber shook her head.

Dyrke thought about this for a moment.

“We could use another hand around here, but your dossier does not show much experience. You think you could run with the ‘Steel Spiders’?”

Amber glanced between Dyrke and Ian. “That’s what I was kind of hoping for. I mean, to run around alone down here is not the brightest idea. I don’t know if the Cats will catch on or not though.”

“The ‘Cats’? The ‘Black Cats’?” Dyrke asked.

“Yes, is that a problem?”

“It might be.”

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

Ever since he had returned with Amber Ian had been kept very busy. For some reason he wanted to steer clear of her, like he didn’t want the others to know about the two of them. The others seemed to be intrigued with the fact that a woman was among their ranks and went out of their way to “make her feel comfortable”. Ian was surprised to find that he did not like that, so to keep himself distracted he went about his business.

All of his patients had been kicked out of his sickbay, but that didn’t keep him from having to cleaning up the mess left behind. Without knowing it Dyrke helped him out by taking him along to meet with the Guilders.

“Your shot is what brought him down Ian. It’s only fair that you get to come along and negotiate the deal,” Dyrke had told him.

When all was said and done the bounty was set at one hundred and sixty five credits. Now that was a nice little paycheck. So the pair headed home to collect up their prize.

“Ian, you have done pretty well since coming to the ‘Spiders’. You mind telling me why you would walk away from the comforts of Hive City?”

Ian looked at his boss and took some time to think over his answer. He knew that Dyrke had known about his little deal with the union security guard, but beyond that he was not so sure.

“Let’s just say I didn’t want to grow old staring at the same walls every day of my life,” Ian finally replied.

“Fair enough I suppose. What about ‘Pantera’?”

Ian’s head snapped to look at Dyrke.

“Come on Ian. I’m not blind, besides, Chigger has known me longer.”

Ian felt his cheeks get flushed. He was not sure what he was more embarrassed by. The fact Dyrke seemed to know so much about him, or that it felt like his own Father had walked in on him and his girlfriend. Which he and Amber were not… at least that is what he told himself.

“There’s nothing going on between Amb… I mean ‘Pantera’ and me.”

“Hmm… well, you…”

CRACK! The distant sound of a single rifle report interrupted Dyrke’s train of thought.

“Cr@$! Move it Ian!”

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

Renold came out of an old service access door to join Ian and Dyrke as they ran headlong down the old drainage pipe. The gun fire that originally drew their attention had dropped off and all was quiet ahead. As the three men erupted from the end of the tube with their weapons ready they were met with a hail of gunfire.

Dyrke and Renold dropped to the ground but Ian kept pressing forward. When he reached a pile of scattered steel drums and machine parts he stopped to see what was going on.

Dyrke was laying in the middle of the street with blood coming from a fresh wound to his left thigh and Renold was no where to be seen. A loud piercing whoop from above drew Ian’s attention upward.

Standing on top of the control tower stood the Ratskin Chief with fists raised in the air. As the savage looked down and made eye contact with Ian, another Ratskin behind him urged him to leave with him. Without another sound the two men turned and disappeared.

Looking around it became obvious that Ian was pretty much on his own. If the Chief was free that meant the guards were down. Dyrke was getting back on his feet but was slowed by his wounds. Renold was nowhere to be seen. With the Ratskins laying in wait on his left there was nothing else to do but to press forward using the overhead scaffolding and walkways to cover his advance. If they could not turn him in to the Guilders, Ian was not about to let him get away either.

The pile of debris was enormous. Although the slag and trash would slow him down he only needed to get into a good firing position on the other side. Once there he could take out the Chief with a long range Las shot from his rifle. As he cleared the top of the pile his rifle smashed against some of the overhanging spore fungus. The resulting cloud of spores caused his eyes to water and to sneeze several times, but all he had to do now was to slide down the other side.

Dropping into a small pit Ian had found his firing position. He could see the small band of Ratskin raiders beginning to descend the scaffolding not thirty meters from him. Pulling the lasgun up into his shoulder Ian leaned forward to get a good stable firing position. The images were crisp and clean in his scope. “Almost there…”, Ian said to himself.

Thwip, thwip Several slugs impacted in and around Ian causing him to flinch and duck down. Peeking over the crest of his impromptu foxhole Ian caught sight of two more Ratskins, both armed with autoguns, had an angle on his position. A glance back towards where the Chief was going to appear told him what he already knew. He did not have time for this.

Ian ducked back below the crest of his hole just as more incoming rounds impacted against the far side wall. With his back against the wall Ian closed his eyes and pictured the shot in his mind. As he rose to his feet Ian spun to his left, pulled the stock of his rifle into his shoulder, and immediately sighted in on where he remembered the first Ratskin sniper to be. Right where he expected!

Crack! Ian’s shot found its mark and knocked the savage from his perch, but he did not have time to watch him fall. Ian immediately shifted his body to his left in order to get an angle on the second Ratskin. This one was at ground level. Return fire from the second one sailed wide.

This time Ian took nothing to chance and flipped the selector lever to “burst”. There wasn’t enough time to aim carefully so he let fly a three round burst. Without knowing if his rounds found their target Ian immediately shifted his attention back to the Chief.

But it was too late. Ian could do nothing further but watch as the Ratskin Chief disappeared through wall on the far side of the dome.

“Damn!” Ian called out.

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

Ian had expected to find Amber and Rogers dead. After all they had been assigned to guard the Chief.

Amber had been knocked out with a club to her jaw. Other than a deep bruise she would be alright. Rogers was a little different. There was a deep gash along the side of his skull where a las round had creased it. The intense heat of the ionized atoms flying through the air seared the wound. The good news was there was no bleeding. The bad news was that the heat had also fused his eardrum. This was beyond Ian’s skill to fix so all he did was try and make the man more comfortable.

With a little effort Dyrke joined the rest of the Spiders on top of the platform.

“The Chief got away boss.” Ian said as was treating the wounded.

“It’s alright kid. You did the best you could.” Dyrke said as he looked down at his team’s medic. “But I think we need a little work on our sentry skills.”

In From the Cold

2007-03-22T15:20:00.000-05:00

Every available surface area in the medical bay was full. Ian had been moving between several of the Spiders since their return to the Bifrost.

Hargrave and Katan were on the only two on cots. Hargrave’s head wound was pretty severe. From what Ian could tell the skull had been fractured, but there was no way to tell if there was any more damage internally, and he was not about to dig around and find out. Not in these conditions.

Katan’s condition was much improved. Once they got back Ian was able to get the rest of the shrapnel removed from his arm. That and the fact that the arterial bleeding was just that, there was enough of the blood veins that all Ian had to do was bandage up the area and clean the wounds out. Within a day Katan’s color had returned and he was responding to questions.

The rest just needed to have their bandages replaced. Of course Dyrke had neglected to come back to have his wounds cleaned up. Ian couldn’t even remember seeing him wearing the bandages the last meal break. “Speak of the devil,” Ian thought to himself as Dyrke walked in.

“Ian, I need to speak to you… in private.”

The two men stepped out into the hall and shut the door.

“I need your help on a sticky situation. The House is telling me that we need to pull in a field operative. An agent that penetrated another house needs to come in, but he is apparently insisting that he come in through us.”

“I don’t get it. Why us? Why are you telling me this?”

“You’re going to be my point man on this Ian. The boys are healing up nicely because of you so I don’t need you to baby sit them. Besides, Chigger seems to have taken a liking to you.”

Ian just nodded. Thinking back he remembered some of the people his father had dealings with. Always in whispers and away from prying eyes. Somehow it always made his skin crawl.

“Do you have a name, or a picture?” Ian asked.

“No, just his codename, ‘Panthera’.”

“When?”

“Well, that is another sticky part. I don’t know exactly. But the good news is that you get to just hang around the Bifrost until he shows up. Apparently this guys knows about the ‘Spiders’ and our base of operations around the Bifrost. He will make contact with us, through you, there.”

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

The Bifrost was quiet. Although a good crowd filled the main hall the mood was subdued. Ian couldn’t figure it out. That was until he caught Chigger’s attention. All it took was a nod from the bartender toward a table along the back wall. Two enforcers and a man in ornate clothing sat sipping from their drinks and whispering amongst themselves. At the feet of one of Lord Helmawr’s policemen was a cyber-mastiff. Clearly no one wanted to draw attention to themselves so long as those four were present.

Not wanting attention himself Ian just propped himself up at the bar and ordered a glass of water. Chigger just shook his head. Such extravagances were extremely rare below “the wall”.

“Chigger… has anyone been looking for the ‘Spiders’ lately?”

“Not lately kid. Even the ‘Black Cats’ have been laying low. I’d be careful though. They don’t take to licking their wounds for long.”

Ian snorted to himself and just sat there enjoying his drink, even ordering a plate of mushrooms. As the night wore on Ian’s patience began to wane. Just as he was about to head back to his nice warm bunk for the evening Amber walked up and sat next to him at the bar without waiting for an invitation.

“Hello Ian.”

Ian began to wonder if he was about to be the center of yet more unwanted attention.

“Hello Amber. You… look good.”

And she did, despite weariness being obvious behind her eyes. She also looked like she was on edge. Her right hand never left her thigh, the one adjacent to her auto pistol.

“Can we go somewhere to talk?”

“I don’t think so. You pretty much said all you needed to the last time.”

An awkward silence fell over the two.

“Well, can we at least move down to the end of the bar?”

Ian nodded and the two shifted down.

“I know the ‘Spiders’ didn’t attack the ‘Cats’ last week. I jumped to a wrong conclusion. Sorry about that.”

Ian just nodded.

“Is that all you’re going to say?”

“What do you want me to say? You told me to steer clear, I’m steering clear. Look Dyrke sent me to meet somebody and I doubt that he is going to show up with you sitting right next to me. I appreciate your willingness to come and set the record straight but I’m in the middle of something right now. Maybe we will see each around here sometime.”

“Right, I guess I should have expected such a chauvinistic response. See you around Ian.”

Ian felt a lump settle into his stomach and he watched her walk away. She stopped in front of Chigger, laid several guilders on the bar, said something, and then walked up stairs to the Bifrost’s rooms. Ian dropped his eyes back to his plate. All of a sudden the urge to jump up and follow her welled up inside, only the discipline to complete the task Dyrke had given him kept him in his seat.

“Bartender! Bartender!”

Ian looked up as one of the Enforcers walked up next to him. The man made eye contact with Ian, but that was all.

Chigger walked over, “what can I do for you constable?”

“That’s Enforcer to you citizen. Look, this fellow,” thumbing over his shoulder back towards his table, “is looking for some fellow named ‘Vant’. Ever hear of him?”

“No sir. Not a hint. What does he look like?”

The enforcer handed over a pictograph, “look familiar?”

“Nope, I’ve never seen him either Enforcer.”

Ian smiled as he took a drink from his glass. The Enforcer snorted and turned away. “And bring another round of drinks to our table!”

“Stinkin’ Hive City dwellers. Think they can come out here and just boss their way around… I wonder why they think they can find this guy out here?” Chigger let his eyes lock on to Ian’s for several seconds. Although he did not fully understand what Chigger was looking for, he also did not dare break eye contact with the man.

“A man could get lost down here.”

Ian wasn’t sure if the last comment was a statement, or a question. “I can’t imagine it being all that hard,” Ian finally replied, still not breaking eye contact with the bartender.

As the tension began to relax Chigger slipped a folded piece of parchment across the counter, “It seems like them Enforcers are not the only ones lookin’ for someone.”

Looking down at the piece of paper it simply read ‘Panthera’. “Thanks Chigger. Where did he go?”

“Top of the stairs, end of the hall. You can’t miss it.”

While heading out the main hall Ian unfolded the note. “We have things to discuss,” was all it read. This confused Ian. He had thought his sole mission was to bring this person in, not meet in seclusion to talk.

As he walked down the hall it was obvious that Chigger’s rooms were full. As Ian approached the end of the hall flashes of memory came to mind. Found memories of the night he and Amber spent together brought a quick smile to his face.

The door was slightly ajar with the room beyond dark. Ian drew his pistol and stepped to the side of the door. A quick check showed the power cell to be fully charged. Looking back down the hallway he listened for any sounds coming from the room. It, of course, was silent.

“You can come in,” came a soft voice from inside. “Just keep your hands up and to the side where I can see them.”

Ian’s head dropped for a moment. He really needed to work on his stealth techniques. “How do I know you are who I think you are?”

“Panthera,” was the only reply.

Ian thought hard about his next move. His mind was screaming for him to just walk away. But there was something just under the surface. His instincts maybe… keeping his las pistol in his right hand he eased the door open with his left. When no gun fire erupted from the room he stepped into the doorway. His entire profile would now be visible to anyone inside. Still nothing so he stepped inside.

“Close the door.”

As the latch on the door clicked several things happened simultaneously. Lights came on temporarily blinding Ian, a pair of hands grabbed him and threw him down on the bed further in the room, and then an audible click of the deadbolt being secured. But before Ian’s eyes could adjust his assailant landed on top of him, straddling across his chest and effectively pinning his arms down.

“Maybe now you will have more to say.”

Ian’s eyes adjusted to the new light level. As he looked up he found Amber’s green eyes looking back down into his.

“You are Panthera?”

“I am Panthera.”

A Fool's Errand

2007-03-09T13:30:00.000-05:00

part 1

SMACK! “How dare you attack the Cats!”

Ian’s cheek stung from the impact of Amber’s slap. “We didn’t attack them, they cornered us. We defended ourselves!”

“Why would the Cats take you and your gang on? We don’t need your booze hall. We run the habs below and even have a couple of Guilders in our pockets, why in Helmawr’s rump would we want the Bifrost?!?”

“Look! I’m telling you they aimed to take us out! If it had not been for Renold getting the drop on your friends we might not be having this… conversation!”

“You keep clear of me Ian! You hear me! If you cross my path again so help me… you will pay dearly for it!”

The rest of the patrons in the ‘Bifrost’ snapped their heads back to what they were doing as Ian looked around the room.

“So much for being discreet,” Ian thought to himself as he rubbed his cheek. He walked up to the bar and sat down.

“Chigger! How about a hit of second best to sooth the soul.”

Ian slapped down a guilder on the counter. Taking the glass Ian downed the foul beverage without letting the bottom of the cup touch the bar. Shivering to himself he groaned. Nasty stuff, but Chigger’s brew was better than most. His… discomfort, yea that’s it, his discomfort would be soothed. For a moment at least.

“Ian! Come here for a minute!”

Dyrke called out from the “Spider’s Web” (their room off the main floor). Ian’s heart sank. “I sure hope he didn’t catch that,” He thought to himself.

As Ian approached the room a Ratskin stepped through the doorway, glanced at Ian, and then disappeared out the front door.

“What was that all about?” Ian asked Dyrke who was now locking up the room.

“I’ve been tossing around the idea of hiring us a guide. That fellow wants to prove his worth. He says there is a prime piece of archeo sitting pretty just waiting for someone to come and claim it.”

Ian glanced out the door that the Ratskin had used. He had never actually seen a Ratskin up close. All he knew about them were the things of children’s stories his parents used to tell him.

“Do you trust him?” Ian asked looking back into his leader’s eyes.

“I’m not sure, but if this take is as good as he says it is… it will be worth the risk. Go round up the team. I need to check on something and pick up some supplies. I’ll meet you all downstairs in thirty.”

And with that Dyrke headed out the door. Ian just watched him go for a moment and then headed downstairs.

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

As the Steel Spiders sat waiting for their leader to return Ian adjusted the setting on the power cell of his Lasgun to the minimum, and then pulled the rifle up into a comfortable tuck. The optics were clearer than he had hoped. With his finger obviously outside the trigger guard he panned low across a couple of his fellow gangers. He could see the folds in their bodysuits, and the stark contrast of their belts and respirators. Sighting in on an old shelf support he squeezed the trigger… missed.

Walking over to the wall where the beam of light left a scorch mark he made a few calculations in his head and then made a quick adjustment to his newly created Infrared sight.

“You’re can clean that up when we get back Ian.”

With the entrance of their leader the Spider’s found a place to sit and then quieted down.

“Before I get started, this here is Hargrave. He has credentials from the Union shop above so make him welcome. Oh, Renold, go fetch that shotgun and ammo from Bo’s workshop.”

Renold took off down the hall while most of the rest of the Spider’s nodded a greeting to the late arrival.

“Alright, Ian’s probably already told you. We are off to make a claim on some supposedly discarded archeo. Here’s the twist. Our guide disappeared after he left the Bifrost. I don’t trust the source, but I’ve decided to go forward with the plan anyway.”

A few of the Spiders shifted in their seats.

“I know it’s probably a fool’s errand, but here’s the plan…”

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

Ian climbed up through the last hatch. The rest of the Spider’s had already assumed a small perimeter with Dyrke in the center.

“Ian, you are going to accompany Cacee and Rogers on a flanking move. I’m not comfortable with not knowing the area very well. This is the deepest we’ve had to go so far.”

“Boss, not to contradict you in front of everyone but… I’d prefer to take Renold over Ian. It’s gonna be tight down in those tunnels. Ian’s a good shot and all, but I need someone who’s more maneuverable in a tight spot.”

Dyrke contemplated this and looked at Cacee. “You’re right. Ian, go take Renold’s spot on the perimeter.”

Once he was in position Ian looked back at the four men. Dyrke was referring to an unrolled piece of paper and then drawing something in the dust on the floor. Cacee looked down, pointed to a few things, and nodded. Then he looked to the other men, said something and pointed to the ground once more. Dyrke then left the other three and approached Ian.

“It was nothing personal. I had wanted to keep my medic close anyway,” Dyrke said as he smacked Ian on the shoulder.

“It’s not a problem Boss. Let’s go get this thing and get back.”

Dyrke grinned and nodded. As he turned to move to the next in line he hesitated.

“You might want to be a little more… discreet in your choices of… friends.”

Ian felt panic in his chest.

“It’s no big deal kid. I’ve known about your little ‘cat’ since you joined. If it becomes a problem though… I expect you to deal with it.”

“Sure thing boss. But I think it’s already taken care of.”

“You never can tell Ian, you never can tell.”

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

Part 2

“Cave in!”

The hive shook all around a trio of Van Saar gangers making their way through an old sewage pipe. Dust and debris cascaded at an incredible rate.

“Make for that last crossway!”

Cacee made it back first. Just as the other two also made it he looked back down the tunnel and saw that it was now totally blocked.

“We have to find another way guys. Where was that other tunnel again?”

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

Dyrke had been pushing the ‘Steel Spiders’ hard. For the better part of the day cycle they kept moving. Down, always down. When they finally arrived at the dome Dyrke had shown them on his map, they found that they were not alone in the quest. For… whatever it was.

The leader of the Spiders silently signaled that there were some uninvited guests. With a pair of arm signals they were all told where to go. Katan and Bo were to take up the right flank and prepare to take out any one approaching from their side of the field. The new guy, Hargrave, and Ian were to follow Dyrke around to the left to make for a tall platform located in the center of the dome.

As Ian and the other two approached a ladder Dyrke motioned for Ian to cover the advance from here. Not a bad spot. Sitting down against an adjoining bulkhead Ian leaned forward and rested his lasgun into a niche. From here he was able to keep a good eye on his leader and the new guy. He could also see the dome floor below.

Just in time. Out of the shadows crept a pair of Escher. They were not wearing the colors of the Black Cats, this was a different gang. Ian glanced up and tried to get Dyrke’s attention. No dice, he was fixated on his goal and not looking back.

“Bupupupupupup” Dyrke let loose with the Heavy Stubber and both of the Escher went to ground. Ian sighted in using his new Infrared scope. It was working beautifully as the two signatures were crisp. The distinctive report of Katan’s Bolt Pistols now joined the battle and the woman closest to the Van Saar gangers dropped. Ian sighted in on his remaining target and let a bolt from his lasgun fly. His target jerked back behind cover, but it didn’t look like the shot hit anything vital.

Chancing a look back towards his boss Ian saw that Dyrke had readied his Axe and pistol and was running headlong for the far end of the bridge he was on. Ian tried to peer into the darkness beyond but could not pick up any targets.

“Unh!” Ian felt something slam into the left side of his head. The world started to spin. Turning to his left Ian caught a glimpse of two men in long coats and dark goggles. The edge of his vision was starting to go black when Katan stepped past him and was blasting away with both bolt pistols at the attackers.

“Where did those Delaque come from?” Was the last thing Ian remembered saying to himself as the darkness overtook him.

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

“Come on kid, wake up!”

Ian felt someone lightly smacking his face. Blinking once, twice… Dyrke was staring down at him. Ian could feel a hand beneath his head holding him up as well.

“Here take a sip of this.”

Dyrke was offering him some kind of liquid. The plastic cup felt cool so Ian took a mouthful. And then it started to burn. Ian coughed uncontrollably causing him to spill most of it down the front of his body suit.

“What was that?” Ian asked as he continued coughing.

“Gutter rot. Got it from the vendors outside of the Bifrost. Not bad eh?”

Ian shook his head. Whatever it was it had cleared his mind. Reaching up he touched the side of his head. His hand came away with fresh blood.

“What happened?”

Dyrke looked passed him for moment, “a band of Delaque jumped us from behind. It would seem that our Ratskin friend was more free with his information than I had thought. I need you to take a look at the others…”

Dyrke had managed to drag all the rest of the Spiders over to where they were now.

Katan was very pale with a lot of blood coming from a nasty series of wounds along his left arm. Burn marks and deep cuts covered the area.

“He’s cut an artery somewhere in there,” Ian said without looking up. Grabbing his kit bag Ian rummaged through his meager medical supplies. Nothing, there was nothing there. In frustration he pulled his knife and went to work cutting away pieces of Katan’s damaged uniform. For the shrapnel that was close to the surface he pried the pieces out with his knife, but no amount of pressure was stopping the blood from flowing onto the ground. Finally Ian was desperate. Pulling Katan’s own belt off Ian quickly fashioned a makeshift tourniquet and strapped it, and the arm, down.

“I need to get him back to the Bifrost,” Ian finally said to Dyrke who was hovering over the two men.

“Wait, there’s more over here.”

Dyrke showed Ian the unconscious forms of Hargrave and Boanerges. Ian looked the two men over. Hargrave had a nasty gash across his head, but the bandage that Dyrke had applied was doing the trick. Boanerges was harder to discern. A bullet had gone clear through his shoulder. The blood had stopped but he was going to be in a lot of pain. Bo would be able to walk himself out, if they could wake him, but he would be slow. Ian had been so focused on the wounded he did not see Cacee and the others approach.

“We finally made it boss. The tunnel we needed to get here collapsed, almost on top of us. We got here as fast as we could.”

“Better late than never,” Dyrke replied. “Come on, give us hand. We need to get these three back to our lair.”

“Was it worth it boss? Did we get what we came here for?” Ian asked as he fashioned a stretcher out of the debris.

Dyrke grinned slightly as he pulled out a small rectangular box to show the rest. There were several wires and tubes with no apparent rhyme or reason. Ian wanted to look at it more closely, but there wasn’t time. Then Dyrke’s face hardened as he looked back at Ian.

“It will be worth it if we can get these guys taken care of.”

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

Part 3

Ian looked up from Katan’s bloody arm. Cacee had returned from another scouting run and was whispering something to Dyrke. Neither of them looked very happy with the news.

Turning back to his task at hand Ian went back to work on Katan’s wounds. In order to save it Ian was having to release the tourniquet from time to time to allow blood to flow through the good portions of the arm and hand. Although the blood flow had slackened he could not get it to stop completely. He really needed to get Katan back to the Bifrost in order to get a better look at the wound. Katan still looked very pale and Ian was beginning to worry if he would recover. Tightening the tourniquet down once again Ian made sure his patient was ready to move.

“We need to get the wounded to a safe place Ian. We are going to have some visitors soon.”

“What do you mean?”

“Cacee is reporting that a large group of Ratskins have been following us. They will be here shortly.”

Ian looked around. They were in the midst of an abandoned settlement and all the buildings were in very poor condition. After a quick check of the surrounding area the pair settled on an old storage building. Once the wounded were stashed away Dyrke sent Cacee, Rogers, and Renold out to try and give a warning when the Ratskins would be on top of them. They would provide security for the immediate area.

“You’ve done pretty good at keeping the rest of the Spiders patched up kid. If Cacee’s right, we are going to be hard pressed in the fight ahead. Will any of the wounded be able to step up?

“No, they are all in pretty sad shape.”

“Alright, keep your head down and take as many of them with you as you can.”

When Ian nodded his acknowledgement he realized that the shot he took to his head was still bleeding. It was going to be a long night.

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

Ian’s mood was dismal. Since they had holed up in this dome the constant anticipation of attack was heavy on his mind. To top it off a heavy rain had been falling for the past hour and a half. The concern of it being acidic was quickly dispelled, but it was putting off a noxious odor that was making him light headed. And to add more on top of it, Cacee and the others had yet to return or even report in.

The rain had soaked the dome floor and pools of the liquid were everywhere causing the thick layer of dust to form a gooey mud-like substance. Ian had retreated to an elevated walkway in a futile attempt to get away from the fumes.

“Donk…..donk…dink” Something metallic clattered down a pile of rubble on the opposite edge of the dome. Ian whirled around to see what it was… a mistake. His light headedness turned into full fledged vertigo causing him to stumble forward. Even as he stepped over the edge of the walkway he could not tell which way was up. Before he even knew what was happening Ian had fallen the thirty feet to the dome floor below, landing in a deep mud hole.

“Ugh! It smells even worse up close.” Ian said to himself as he stood back up.

“Here they come!”

Ian scooped mud away from his eyes and looked up. Dyrke was pointing off to the far wall with his axe. From where he had landed Ian had to look through a severely dilapidated building. Even with all the intervening debris he could identify at least six Ratskins moving in their direction.

Without further hesitation Ian brought his lasgun up, sighted in on the nearest Ratskin, and squeezed off a shot. From this angle he could not tell if his shot and landed, but it did cause the Ratskin to go to ground.

Dyrke was cursing at the top of his lungs and firing madly down into the same group Ian could see. “Where is that bastard Cacee?!?” was all that Ian made out from the tirade.

“What, can’t you handle a few Ratskins?”

Ian looked back over his shoulder to see the lost trio of Spiders emerging from the shadows.

Shouting over his shoulder Ian called to them, “It’s about time you guys got back. Mind giving us a hand here?”

Cacee sent Renold and Rogers around Ian’s left while he took up a firing position to Ian’s right.

By now the Ratskins were whooping it up and moving quickly. Ian continued to snap off shots at targets as they presented themselves, but it was hard to tell if he was having any affect. His shots were always through dense rubble and debris, and the targets were quick to disappear.

Out of the corner of his left eye Ian saw that Rogers and Renold were falling back to get more cover. Renold stood in the middle of a small alley way, both las pistols blazing away at some unseen foe.

“Do not let them get to Bo and the others!”

Ian looked up to see Dyrke still blazing away at the Ratskins below. He was falling back now as he was under fire from at least two different directions, and there was no cover to be had. From where Ian stood he could see three Ratskins scaling several ladders to get at Dyrke. He didn’t have a shot and the Ratskins were on top of Dyrke before either of them could react to the new threat.

A grunt from his right turned Ian’s attention away from Dyrke’s predicament. Cacee was dropping to his knees as he grabbed his abdomen. The Ratskins were on top of him now and Ian was pulling the trigger as fast as he could flex his finger.

Another cry, from his left this time. Renold was crawling back towards where Rogers had taken cover. This was it. One more push and the Ratskins were going to sweep the Steel Spiders away.

From the top of the platform where Dyrke had been the Ratskin leader stepped forward. “You have disturbed the Hive Spirits for the last time! Return what is not yours!” And he let loose a loud whoop that made Ian’s hair stand on end.

This was his chance though. Ian dropped his infrared scope dead on the savage leader’s chest and squeezed the trigger. For the first time in the fight Ian knew the shot scored. The Ratskin dropped his shotgun over the edge and grabbed his chest. Although he attempted to stop his motion it was too late and he followed his shotgun over the edge.

For a moment time seemed to stand still. To a man the Ratskins seemed to become disoriented and confused. With the attack now stalled they began to retreat back into the shadows. Ian scanned for more targets but there were none to be had.

Once Ian was confident that the Ratskins were not going to return he quickly went to where Dyrke was. He had some pretty good gashes but he looked to be able to move. Cacee was in similar shape. Renold had a grazing shot across his thigh, and although he complained a lot, Ian didn’t think it would require anything more than a bandage.

The biggest complaint from his new patients was the smell. Ian was still caked in the odorous mud.

“Hey Ian,” Rogers was calling out from the roof of a small shed. “Come and see what we have here!”

Getting on top of the shed was no easy feat, but when he arrived he was met with the unconscious form of the Ratskin leader.

“This should fetch a pretty penny from the Guilders I bet,” Rogers said out loud.

“Rogers my friend, I couldn’t agree more.”

Celebrate Success

2007-03-06T16:26:00.000-05:00

The smell of burning solder filled the air in the room and a slight haze hovered over the workbench.

“That should cover the circuitry, now all I need are some optics and a thermal sensor.”

Ian sat back and admired his work. The workbench was covered in a wide variety of projects, all in some stage of confusion. The latest project that held his imagination was some sort of tubular circuit board that he was now encasing inside a slightly larger metallic tube.

“Hey Ian!” the sudden interruption of his concentration caused Ian to snap his head around, and his hand slipped causing a drop of solder to fall onto the workbench.

“Cacee, you scare the… what is it?”

“Come on, you and I are taking Renold out to celebrate. He’s a full fledge member of the ‘Spiders’ now.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Ian double checked his latest project to make sure his jolt did not ruin any of his work. Once he was satisfied he set his tools down and picked up his kit bag.

“We need to stop by the Guilder’s corner too,” Ian said as he headed for the door. “I need to pick up a couple of supplies.”

“I’m comin’ too,” Boanerges voice came from his workshop across the hall. “I need to pick up a few parts myself.”

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

The four men went to the market first. The one thing most hivers have learned, especially the further one journeyed from Hive City was that beauty was in the eye of the salesman. In order to get the optics Ian wanted he had to buy two very damaged telescopic sights, and the thermal sensors were another matter entirely. When he walked away he had a small bag full of what most would consider to be junk. One thing they all agreed on was a new Las Pistol for Renold to celebrate him winning his colors. The kid wanted to use a brace of Las Pistols instead of a rifle. Said he wanted to be able to use his hands more readily while walking around. At least they were refined. Not as vulgar or bulky like a stubber.

“What are you going to do with that scrap Ian?” Boanerges asked him Ian.

“I’m not just good at patching people up ‘Bo’. I’m working on a few projects. With these scraps I should be able to finish up a sight for my new Las.”

“You boys are little far from home aren’t ya?”

The four Van Saar men stopped dead in their tracks. Three Escher women stood at the other end of the small market lane and blocked their way.

“You can’t hide behind Chigger now, can ya boys!”

Their colors showed they were part of a local Escher gang known as the ‘Black Cats’. Boanerges moved to ready his Heavy Stubber but Cacee put a hand on his shoulder. Looking over Cacee shook his head at the heavy.

The one with a stark white Mohawk smiled. “That’s right boys. No fighting. You have to play nice out in public.”

“You can’t talk like that to us,” it was Renold’s turn to step forward.

Cacee grabbed his arm, “not here” was all he said.

Another Escher, this one with Blue hair, took another step forward, readied a shotgun and said, “Aw, the little old Van Saar are afraid!” The Escher were now slowly moving forward and spreading out slightly to give each other room to maneuver.

Cacee motioned for the four of them to also spread out some. “You girls seem a little lost. The Steel Spiders run the Bifrost, and therefore you are stepping on our turf.”

“You Scrap Bugs aren’t long for this place,” this taunt came from the woman with a dark brown complexion. “The ‘Black Cats’ are moving in.”

Ian could tell that Renold was getting riled up. The guy kept inching his hands closer and closer the holsters of his pair of Las Pistols. Ian could feel his own blood begin to heat up as well.

“Come on girls, you don’t want any of this pain tonight. Why don’t you all just stand down and let your betters pass.”

This last statement from Boanerges got the women’s attention and they went silent for the moment, all the while the two sets of gangers drew ever closer.

“Your time is up, might as well face it. It would be a shame to embarrass you boys in front of your clientele like this.”

The adversaries were almost on top of each other now.

The woman with the dark complexion let a set of chains drop from her hands as she stepped forward and called out, “Come on now… can’t the little Van Saar come out to play?”

That was all that Renold could stand. Before anyone could blink Renold had both Las Pistols out snapping shots as fast as he could. His compatriots realizing that there was no turning back each drew their own weapons and joined in.

It was a blur to Ian. The din of Cacee’s Autogun and Boanerges’ Bolt Pistol just added to the confusion. Snapping out his own Las Pistol Ian threw his arm out towards the Blue haired vixen, shooting even as he brought the weapon up to bear. He couldn’t be sure but it looked like at least one of his shots had found the mark as the woman screamed out and dropped her shotgun as she slumped to the floor.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, stop shooting!” Cacee’s call interrupted the flood of gun fire coming from his fellow Van Saar. All three of the Escher were down. Ian chanced looks at each of his fellows to see if anyone had caught a round No apparent injuries.

“Maybe you girls will think…”

Blaring whistles echoed through the now empty market square interrupting Cacee and his victory speech. All four of the Van Saar put away their weapons as a local patrol of Enforcers rushed into the lane.

“Don’t move!” An Enforcer with large shield and Bolt Pistol called out. “You wouldn’t want to get my little friend here agitated.” With a quick motioned he drew their attention to a mechanical construct that resembled a massive dog.

Ian had no desire to tangle with the Enforcers, let alone one of their Cyber Mastiffs and he raised his hands slightly to indicate he was unarmed. Looking around he noticed that both groups of gangers did the same thing.

“What seems to be the trouble?” said another Enforcer as he stepped around the one with the dog. This one had the familiar armor and gear of the Enforcers, but also wore a coat to indicate his rank. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Boanerges stepping back slightly.

“These Van Saar ambushed us as we were heading to the trading post!”

“You lie bi…”

The one with the dog stepped in between the two gangers before it could escalate further. The Sergeant reached up and took off his helmet and stepped towards Cacee. “You first,” was all he said.

Cacee looked over at the now injured trio of Escher. We came around the corner, saw that they had… slipped,” heavily accenting that last word, “and had tried to come to their aid. You showed up just as they… refused... our assistance.”

“Riiight,” was all the Sergeant said. “What about you?” he said as he turned to address the Blue haired woman, now getting to her feet.

The woman sneered at Cacee. “They Lie!”

The Sergeant looked back over his shoulder at the Van Saar interim leader. “Well?”

“We didn’t want to disparage these poor women but… the truth is they jumped us. It’s not our fault they couldn’t hit the broadside of a bridge. We merely defended ourselves.”

The Enforcers now circled both groups of gangers, weapons at the ready. The Sergeant and the Cyber Mastiff’s handler remained in the center between the two groups. The Sergeant looked over at the three Escher.

“How is it they are the only ones injured while you and your friends here are not?”

“I guess they’re just bad shots. Maybe they ended up shooting each other as they tripped?”

“AHHHH!” The Escher woman screamed out in anger and tried to charge the Van Saar.

“You see! They’re barely house broken, let alone a serious threat to us.”

The Enforcers chuckled under their helmets. The Sergeant silenced them by raising his hand. Looking between the two gang leaders, who were now glaring at each other with contempt, The Sergeant stepped in between them once more.

“Gun play within the settlement – which is under OUR jurisdiction (he said looking at Cacee) – is strictly forbidden,” he paused for effect as he looked back and forth. “It is impossible to tell who drew first as I don’t have the time to investigate this any further. “If we should have to address this issue again… sanctions will be imposed. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly.”

“Yes.”

Came the replies from both the leaders.

“Now move along.”

Cacee motioned for the Van Saar team to move around the Escher who were now dusting themselves off.

“You have been served Van Saar, the Cats are here to play,” whispered the Escher leader.

“I’d be more respectful if I were you little pussycat,” Cacee whispered back as he chuckled to himself. “You kittens need to find another hole to play in. The Steel Spiders are the ones who watch over the Bifrost. It would serve you well to keep that in mind.”

The Escher leader just spit on the ground in front of Cacee. Ian noticed that he didn’t even look down.

Returning the Favor

2007-02-23T16:25:00.001-05:00

Ian crept down the stairs into the common room of the Bifrost. The lights were dim, but not all the way out. In the underhive the lights never go completely out, instead they are dimmed to very faint levels to allow for some visibility.

At this hour the drinking hole was silent, the few patrons remaining were only there because that was where they passed out and there was no one left to take them home. No one cared about his passing through.

As he descended the ladder to the Steel Spiders’ lair he could here some faint movement at the far end of the hall. It was Katan’s turn for guard duty last night. ‘Best steer clear of him,’ Ian thought to himself. Fortunately his gang’s “medical bay”, where he moved into after Dyrke slipped the new juve into his old room, was closer to this end of the hallway. Waiting until he had closed the door quietly behind him, Ian crossed the room and turned on the light to his workbench.

Sleep, sweet oblivion awaited him. His rendezvous with Amber had been enjoyable, but not all that restful, and Dyrke had mentioned an early start. Not bothering to get undressed Ian lay on top of his covers and closed his eyes.

“Get up!”

Ian jolted up out of bed. He quickly realized that if had been asleep it could not have been for very long, he groaned. Just as he was about to give his intruder a ‘what for’ he realized it was Katan.

“We leave in five minutes Ian. Are you up?”

Ian nodded and walked back over to his workbench and yawned. Grabbing a few tools and supplies he stuffed them in his kit bag which lay in the midst of several projects he was tinkering on.

“Were you up late working on something?” Katan asked.

“Yea, something like that.” Picking up the power cell for his lasgun off the charger he turned back to the somber ganger. “Let’s not keep Dyrke waiting.”

Ian flicked off the light and followed the Van Saar ganger out the door.

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

The journey down hive was fast and uneventful. Dyrke had spelled it out on the way. The band of nomads that Ian had stirred up continued to wreak havoc in the domes below. Apparently they were hell bent on retrieving the rifle Ian acquired from them and were knocking heads together and issuing challenges to any Hiver they came across.

Being that the Steel Spiders had a couple of spore caves in the area the locals sent word to Dyrke to come and bail them out. They were heading down to spring a trap on the invaders. By planting seeds of misinformation Dyrke believed the nomads would have a chance at something they couldn’t refuse – payback. He had left tidbits of information that Ian – and the rifle – was going to be in the area at a certain time. Dyrke was confident that the Spiders would be able to return the favor and inflict their own kind of payback for daring to enter the hive.

As they drew near Dyrke divided them up into three groups. Boanerges and Rogers were sent up to a reinforced walkway, Ian and Cacee were positioned a large air handler tower, while Dyrke and the rest of the team stayed at floor level hidden among several crates and barrels. Dyrke’s group was to assault the kill zone while Ian and the rest provided covering fire.

Once the three groups split up there was no way to communicate verbally between them. Cacee had Ian move painfully slow.

“A sniper’s job is to arrive at his destination without detection so that he can deliver a kill-shot before his target can react.” He said to Ian.

“I just want to give back some of what they dished out,” Ian replied.

“Then stick close to me kid, and we will do it together.”

Once Ian got into good firing position he looked through the sites of his new lasgun. He wanted to get familiar with the feel and sight picture of the weapon. It felt comfortable in his grip.

Looking around the kill-zone Ian could not detect Dyrke, Katan, or the juve – the ‘assault team’. That was good. He could however, easily see Boanerges and Rogers. His firing position was slightly higher so maybe that was not much of an issue. He gave Rogers a ‘thumbs up ‘signal and the waiting began.

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

Cacee tapped Ian on the shoulder (they had taken turns on watch) and pointed down into the kill-zone. Ian looked over the edge and he could see two Nomads cautiously creeping out from under a warehouse awning. The pair was hunched over, respirators firmly in place, and their heads panning back and forth. One Nomad had a pistol of some kind at the ready, the other an autogun cradled in his arms. Ian nestled his cheek against the stock and took aim at the one with the rifle.

Thwack! Ian felt something smack against the back of his head. Looking back he saw Cacee shaking his head. “Not yet,” he mouthed. Ian nodded his understanding.

Chancing a glance over towards Boanerges and Rogers he saw them getting ready as well. Ian settled back to get ready. He would wait until the heavy let loose and then join in.

The first pair of Nomads was followed by two more pair. There were now six Nomads in the kill-zone and Ian felt his pulse quicken. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Cacee settled into his firing position.

“Here we go,” Ian thought to himself.

Bupupupupup! Boanerges let loose with his heavy stubber. With the heavy letting loose Ian began to squeeze the trigger, his sights still set on the Nomad with the rifle.

CRACK! Ian involuntarily ducked his head as a bullet impacted heavily on the other side of the wall he was leaning against for stability.

Thwiip! The next incoming round caught nothing but air as it whipped past his head. Peeking up and over the wall Ian scanned for where the shots were coming from. There he was… a Nomad hunkered down among metallic scraps with a heavy barreled rifle pointed right back at him.

“Nomad Sniper!” Ian shouted over his shoulder to Cacee.

“What do you want from me kid! Take care of him!”

Cacee was pulling the trigger of his autogun sending shots down into the kill-zone as fast as he could squeeze his finger. Ian turned his attention back to his challenger and snapped off a quick shot, more to get the Nomad to duck than anything else.

Ian’s last shot bought him enough time and he shifted around to get a better angle. From this distance he could tell that the Nomad had picked his position well. His enemy now sat at an extreme range for his lasgun and in good cover. Ian smiled slightly. The Nomad has ‘misjudged this Van Saar’ he thought to himself.

Tucking his cheek against the lasgun stock Ian set his sights on the Nomad. “Not much to get at,” he thought. Sighting in on the only thing he could see Ian squeezed off a shot at the Nomad’s rifle. Miss!

Thwiip! The Nomad’s return shot sailed wide.

There was nowhere for Ian to move to. His opponent had the entire tower cover to include the ladder down.

The Nomad shifted to try and get a better angle. Ian took the shot. The superheated ions flew straight and true and nailed the Nomad. He knew it because he heard the wounded cry come back in reply. But instead of the man dropping from the wound Ian watched him crawl away and out of sight, debris and buildings preventing Ian from finishing the job.

The revving of a chainsword brought Ian’s attention back to the task at hand, the ambushing of the very Nomads that had hunted him down not all that long ago. Ian spun back to face the kill-zone. On the bridge Rogers stood over the corpse of a Nomad who had gotten the jump on the two Van Saar on the bridge. Roger made eye contact with eye and nodded. Ian nodded back and then turned his attention back to the dome floor.

Four Nomads lay prone and unmoving. The last was steadying himself, but against what Ian couldn’t tell.

A yell came thundering across the dome as Renold, the team’s new juve, raced out from under a heavy lift platform. The juve barreled into the Nomad knocking the both of them over. The juve landed on top and proceeded to wail blow upon blow to the Nomad’s head and torso.

Dyrke walked over and grabbed one of the kid’s arms and said something indiscernible. Renold then stood up straddling the now motionless Nomad. Dyrke looked up to the two over-watch positions and signaled for them to come down.

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

All seven of Van Saar met on the dome floor. A quick check of all present no one had any injuries to report. No equipment issues either.

“Well done men. I don’t think the hive will have to worry about these Nomads anymore. Secure the area. It may not look like much, but there’s potential.”

Something skittered across the floor towards the dome wall. Debris kicked up by a Nomad taking flight.

Ian pulled up his lasgun to his cheek and began to track his new target. Fallen crossbeams, support posts, and the speed at which the enemy moved all worked against him. Undeterred Ian tracked his target, all the while slowly squeezing the trigger.

CRACK! A narrow beam of neon-blue ionized particles shot reached out, briefly connecting the Van Saar with the Nomad. The Nomad collapsed and skidded across the floor.

Cacee whistled. “Nice shot kid.”

Ian smiled as Boanerges slapped him on the back.

Dyrke looked Ian in the eyes, “it looks like the ‘Spiders’ have a Medic and a Shooter.”

Interlude

2007-02-22T11:45:00.000-05:00

The music was still blaring as Ian walked back through the common room of the ‘Bifrost’. He only needed one more thing to make the night complete, and that was to see Amber again. He could not figure out why this woman fascinated him. He had only met her the one time before.

Ian scanned the crowded room looking for Amber’s red hair. In a run-of-the-mill drinking hole, frequented by factory workers or fungus farmers, that might not have been an issue. But here at the Bifrost it merely reduced the possibilities to a score or more. One thing that did help was that not all of the red-haired patrons were female, and not everyone wore Amber’s distinctive ponytail. Still, he could not see her in the crowd.

The two had met in the back the last time so Ian headed towards the blaring music. The same four ‘musicians’ were on-stage as the last time, only this time one of the Van Saar was playing some kind of small metallic pipe with holes drilled into it. The musician’s fingers danced covering various holes, all the while blowing into another.

“They are not half bad,” Ian though to himself.

Peering over the crowd Ian looked for his objective. Not seeing her he dropped back down on heels. Just as he was getting ready to turn around he felt a tug on his holster belt. Spinning around he saw Amber.

“Looking for someone? Here, you might want this back.”

There she was, offering him his las pistol back.

“As a matter fact, yes I am,” Ian said feeling his face warm up. Both embarrassed about losing his pistol to a pick pocket and being happy to see her again. He took the offered pistol and put it back in its holster, securing it with the snap this time.

Amber stepped back returning his smile. The two looked each other over.

“Let’s get something to drink,” Ian finally said reaching out, grabbing her hand, and heading back into the common room. As Ian moved to sit down at an empty table Amber tugged on her arm to get his attention.

“Mm mm, too public, or haven’t you heard that the Black Cats have eyes for you and your boy’s toys?”

Ian put two and two together. He realized that Amber was a member of the Black Cats, and that the woman he had a run in with earlier was the same one who ended their last meeting. He pulled his hand away. His mind was swirling trying to figure out what she was trying to do to him. Once again he found himself wondering if she was laying a trap for him… or something else. He realized he might not even care at this point.

Sensing Ian’s hesitation Amber broke the tension, “no no no… it’s just… it might not be… you know… healthy, for us to be seen together”.

Ian just nodded his agreement.

“Come on. We’ll go to my room,” Amber said as she turned to lead.

“Wait… that might not be a good idea either. You girls have rooms above right? And we’ve got the lay out underneath… we’re going to need some place neutral.”

The two continued to look into each other’s eyes as they thought through their options.

“Chigger’s got some rooms…” they both said together and headed for the bar.

Ian stepped up and motioned for Chigger to step off to the side.

“Chigger, I need a room and a bottle of snake.”

Chigger glanced over Ian’s shoulder and then back.

“You know what you’re doin’ kid?”

“Probably not, but life’s short and you have got to take some chances.”

“It’s your money kid, and I won’t say anything.”

Ian reached into his pocket and pulled out several guilders. Slapping the coins down on the bar he said, “Thanks Chigger. I really appreciate it.”

Grabbing the offered bottle and key from Chigger Ian turned back to Amber.

“Come on, let’s get out of here. We have some catching up to do.”

With that Ian led the way out of the common area of the Bifrost and up to the public lodgings.

Camaraderie

2007-02-21T08:20:00.000-05:00

Ian was disappointed. Dyrke had been dismissive of his report about the Black Cats having an eye on taking over things around the Bifrost. Oh Dyrke had been happy to get the money Chigger had handed over; he just did not seem concerned about anything else. One odd thing did happen. Dyrke forked over a handful of credits. ‘Profit Sharing’ he called it. Ian had expected to be paid as a full member of the gang and all, but this seemed a little generous. He bit his lip, nodded his thanks, and left the room before he asked any stupid questions.

“Ian! Hey, where headed up to the Bifrost to down a few pints. Wanna tag along?”

Ian looked up and saw Rogers, Cacee, and Boanerges walking towards him. Gripping his pocket now flushed with cash he smiled and nodded his agreement.

“Mind if I come along?” came another voice from behind the group.

Ian turned around and saw the kid he had patched up back when he first came below. He looked pretty healthy now and was jogging to catch up. The group stopped and turned.

“Beat it ‘little rat’. Go sit in your room until you’re called upon to complete your trial.”

“Wait Boanerges. He can tag along,” Cacee said. “But… and I mean BUT, you will be quiet ‘little rat’,” he said addressing the juve.

Ian tried to see how the juve’s ear had healed. There was some scarring, but the area around the ear had healed nicely. Only some minor disfiguration. He was sure the kid could still hear out of it.

“What are you looking at” the juve said turning to Ian.

“Easy, easy… just noticing your ear.”

A look of recognition flashed across the juve’s face, but he said nothing.

“Best mind your manners ‘little rat’. You’re addressing a member of the Steel Spiders, which is more than I can say for you. I don’t care what Cacee here says… you are not welcome.”

The team’s heavy was obviously annoyed to have a juve hanging around.

Ian turned to the juve, “look, you’ll be one of the team soon enough. What’s your name?”

“Renold, my name is Renold,” the juve said. He seemed like he wanted to say something else, but then thought better of it. “Alright… I’ll catch you guys later.” And with that he turned and left.

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

The Bifrost was alive again. This was not a typical drinking hole of the underhive. The Bifrost was more a small community in and of itself. Inside the drinking hole it housed two common rooms as well as several meeting rooms – one for each of the governing Houses of Hive City. It was rumored that Chigger even had some contacts with the Ruling Houses from above ‘The Wall’. Above these rooms were several boarding rooms that Chigger used to produce even more income. But that was only the part of it.

Trading routes funneled across the bridge and there was an area out on the span that housed a small bazaar – and that was sandwiched in between the Bifrost and the local Enforcer precinct house. Adjacent to the precinct house, on the other side, were several ornate Guilder habs. The small little bridge was cramped to say the least, and the Bifrost was the meeting place for it all.

Men and women from all five of the Houses that controlled Hive City crowded the common area. Chigger was behind the packed bar with two barmaids. Together they were busy dispensing drinks as fast as they could dip the cups into the vats of Second Best (or Wild Snake if the pockets allowed).

Some of the patrons were yelling at monitors over the bar. All three of the dingy black and white screens captured images of two pit fighters circling one another. A roar erupted from half the group when one of the fighters, armed with a massive hook instead of a hand, landed a savage blow to the head of his opponent – the other half grumbled curses. From the back room music tried to overwhelm the cacophony up front.

As Cacee led the group to their private room off to the side Ian caught site of Amber. The Escher he had become acquainted with just before his trials. Making eye contact with her he paused for a moment.

“Come on kid. We’ve got some celebrating to do,” Cacee said throwing an arm around Ian’s shoulder and nudging him to the side room.

Ian maintained eye contact with the woman and silently mouthed, “I’ll be back for you later”.

The Escher smiled.

Their room was set up nicely. A dart alley along the back wall, several tables and chairs – enough room for thirty or more, even a monitor to catch whatever vids Chigger could tap into from Hive City. Membership definitely has its privileges.

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

The four Van Saar enjoyed themselves for several hours, only being interrupted twice to take care of unruly (and mostly drunk) customers. Chigger had kept the drinks flowing, the plates full of food, and the ‘entertainment’ fresh. Ian had declined the latter, instead waiting for the opportunity to slip out and catch up with the red headed Escher that he could not get out of his mind. Just when he had begun to think that chance would never come Dyrke burst in on the little party.

“I thought I might find you all here… Ian you might be interested in this,” the Van Saar leader said as he sat down. “I’ve just received word that the Nomads that we fought a couple of days back have decided to make life difficult for those down below. Apparently after we pulled back they were not satisfied and have been raising hell in the domes below. Seems they want whatever it is you brought back Ian.” Dyrke turned to look at Ian.

Ian shrugged, “they can have it back for all I care. The slug that sent me to my knees did a work on the firing chamber. Even Boanerges here says he can’t fix that rifle. It’s a shame too, it ‘s a nice looking weapon.”

“Well, you will have the opportunity to return it if you want. I’ve planted some information with the spore farmers down there. Something the Nomads should find… irresistible.” Dyrke paused to let that sink in. “You all get to bed. We leave before the next cycle.” And with that Dyrke left, the four men alone, patting Ian on the shoulder as he went.

“What do you think ‘Cee’”? Roger asked Cacee.

“What are you asking me for? Dyrke’s the boss.”

“Yea but, you’ve got a pretty good head on your shoulders. What do you think?”

“I think you need to mind Dyrke.”

And with that the little party was over. The four Van Saar filed on out to get some sleep. As the group neared the stairs down to their hab layer Ian stopped.

“You guys go on ahead. I forgot to pay for that last round.”

The other three just waved over their shoulders and went on their way.

“Now to have a chat with that lass!”

Working Man

2007-02-11T18:25:00.000-05:00

“It’s time you started earning your keep kid.”

For a moment Ian just stared at Dyrke, his gang’s leader. Just two days earlier he had quite possibly saved the life of a fellow team member, what more could possibly be expected of him?

“I need you to go upstairs and collect our cut from Chigger, the owner of the Bifrost.”

“But… I’m barely out of the trials… and I need to keep an eye on Rogers.” Ian replied.

“You need to do what I tell you to do kid. You’ve passed the trials and you’re a full member of this team now. I appreciate your kissing Roger’s boo-boo but if you don’t get a move on before I shove a boot up your fore-quarter contact I’ll get me someone who’ll follow orders and you’ll be back out on the streets. You get me?”

Ian nodded his head, picked up his kit bag, and rushed pass Dyrke who was still standing in the doorway of his room. He had not intended to come across so insubordinate. It was just that he was still trying to gauge his place within the gang and collecting of protection money from the Bifrost definitely felt above his station. He had not even seen combat with the team yet. Well, not counting the retreat from the hive wall a couple days back. But that would come, he was sure of that.

“Hey kid!”

Ian turned around to see Rogers walking up the passageway towards him.

“You should still be resting. That was no carrion bat sting.”

“I’m alright… now. I just wanted to thank you. I want you to have this.” In Rogers’ outstretched hand he held a lasgun by the barrel.

Ian’s eyes widened. This is no clumsy shotgun or autogun. This was tech, and he preferred tech. “I… I couldn’t… that’s your rifle. I’ll earn my own.”

“That’s just it kid,” a second voice came from behind Rogers. It was Dyrke. “You have earned it. Rogers here has been thinking about swapping out his weapons for some time anyway.

“And I wanted to thank you for patching me up,” Rogers added.

Ian accepted the offered weapon. Emotions ran rampant, but pride was the most predominant. Looking back up to Rogers, “I don’t know what to say. Thanks.”

“No kid, thank you for patching me up.”

“You need to change uniforms too.” Dyrke tossed a blue, grey, and black pixeled bodysuit past Rogers at Ian. “Now you best get a move on before my boot catches up with you!”

Ian couldn’t help but smile as he turned. He stuffed the bodysuit into his kitbag, and slung his new lasgun over his shoulder. He felt like he belonged now.

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

The Bifrost was quiet. At least quieter than the last time he had been here. There was no band playing in the back and the video monitors were black. The patrons that were there barely looked up from their drinks or conversations. Walking up to the bar Ian called out, “Barkeep! Where can I find Chiggers?”

A bald head with dark goggles popped up from behind the bar. The man wore a vest akin to what House Orlock might wear and a Van Saar cybernetic hand held a hefty stub gun. Dropping the pistol heavily on top of the bar he leaned forward.

“What do you want?” The man was more articulate than Ian anticipated.

“Dyrke sent me to see Chigger. I need to make a collection.”

“You‘re not sporting Dyrke’s colors, and I’ve not seen you around here before.”

“Are you going to take me to see the man or not?” Ian was beginning to get irritated.

“I cannot just take anyone to see the man. Prove to me you speak for Dyrke and his team and I will take you to see Chigger personally.”

Ian pulled out the new bodysuit and held it up. “Are you satisfied?”

The bartender was about to argue some more when he caught sight of Dyrke standing in the shadows behind Ian. Dyrke just nodded and the man’s resistance faded.

“Alright kid, follow me.”

The barkeep led Ian up a small spiral staircase behind the bar which led to a trapdoor. Beyond the door was small office with windows that held a commanding view of the bridge’s ‘common area’. The furnishings were sparse but business like. A small desk with a data terminal (inferior Delaque design Ian thought to himself), a bookcase filled mostly with odds and ends, and a small safe, but no one else but the two of them.

“Where’s Chigger?” Ian demanded.

“You’re looking at him kid. Wait right there.” Chigger stepped around the desk, and knelt next to the small safe. Once he was sure he sufficiently blocked Ian’s view he turned the dial. With a creak the small hefty door opened up. Chigger pulled out a small bag and shut the door.

Tossing the bag across the desk Chigger said, “Here you go kid. It was a pretty decent week, but you need to let Dyrke know. The Black Cats have been making noise again. Fushia’s telling me she can take better care of the trash.”

Ian turned to leave. “Thanks Chigger, I’ll let him know. Wait… what do you mean?”

“I mean that the Black Cats are telling me that they are looking to make a change around here, and you and Dyrke’s boys are standing in their way. You get me?”

Ian nodded and then left the room. His mind was deep in thought about what Chigger had told him when he bumped into a woman as they both crossed the floor, an amazing feat considering the sparse clientele present.

“Watch where you’re going!”

Ian stepped back. He recognized the woman from somewhere. She was almost a full two meters tall and wore a ponytail tied tight that swept up and back – dyed a deep green. Her eyes glared and her face was taut. She didn’t look like she wanted to chat.

“It’s a big room. You should have been more careful.”

The woman snarled and moved her right foot back and out while reaching for the pommels of two very fine looking swords over her shoulders. Although neither ganger noticed, the conversation in the room ceased as all attention was drawn to the pair.

“Not in here you don’t Jade!” Chigger said as he entered the room, and emphasized his point by chambering a round in his shotgun.

“Easy Chigger, I was just going to teach this boy some manners.”

The woman splayed her fingers wide to demonstrate she was standing down. She slowly lowered her arms and began to move across the floor once more. As she did so she intentionally drew close to Ian and whispered only loud enough for him to hear.

“Your time is drawing to a close around here Van Saar. Scurry on your way now.”

Ian stood his ground so that she could not help but bump into his shoulder as she passed. He did not move. Not even to watch the tall woman leave the Bifrost. His heart was pounding in his chest, and he could feel his hands beginning to sweat. Glancing down at his hands he headed on out. He wanted to get back to Dyrke and report this. It looked like the Black Cats were taking aim at their territory.

Back from the Brink

2007-01-31T09:55:00.000-05:00

“Get up Ian! Dyrke’s been hit!”

Ian fought to clear the fog from his brain. His body was bone tired and his mind was a complete blank. Oh the man now standing over him, handing him his tool kits, was loud enough – but he could not quite wrap his mind around who was yelling at him or where he currently was. As he stood up Ian took the offered tool kits.

“Come on kid!”

The caller was spattered with blood. His name… what is his name? Katan, his name is Katan.

“Wh…where is he?,” was all Ian could manage to say.

Katan darted out of the room and Ian jogged after him. It was all coming back to him. Dyrke, the trials, his completion of the test… he had become a member of one of the gangs. Ian picked up his pace.

As Ian turned the last corner he ran into the back of Boanerges nearly barreling him over. As he slipped in between the Van Saar heavy and Katan he saw Dyrke sitting on the edge of a table holding a bandage over his left shoulder. His bodysuit was covered in blood but he seemed alert. Ian dropped his tool kit on the table next to his new leader and reached for the bandage.

“Not me kid. I’ll be ok. Go take care of Rogers over there.”

Ian turned around. Lying on top of the table was Rogers, obviously in pain. Cacee struggled to calm the man down. Blood was everywhere and for all the man’s struggles it only made it worse.

As he stepped up next to the table Ian could see that Roger’s lips were a light shade of blue. If he could not get adequate air flow restored the man would die. When Roger’s arched his back trying to draw a breath Ian noticed the bullet wound. An ugly hole, with white foam, was evident on the left side of the chest.

“I need a sheet of plastic!”

Nobody moved.

“Katan! Run back to my room. There’s a small pack of food. Get it and bring it back! Go!”

Turning back to Rogers Ian calmly stepped between Cacee and the patient. With help the two men sat Rogers up and cut off the rest of the fabric around the wound.

Katan returned with the meal pack and handed it to Ian. He cut open the pack and let the contents spill to the floor. Pulling a small bottle of antiseptic from his tool kit he handed the items to Cacee.

“Cut the plastic so that it is one flat sheet and then clean it with this,” was all he said to his helper. “Rogers, I need you to calm down. All you’re doing right now is bleeding… calm down… that’s it. Look at me… focus.”

When Cacee handed the plastic back to Ian he immediately laid it over the wound site. Rogers winced in pain but sat still.

“Tape!”

Cacee fumbled through the tool kit, the contents of which now lay everywhere, and handed the tape over.

As the Ian taped the piece of plastic in place Roger’s countenance improved and he took a deep breath.

“Easy… lay back down. Can you roll over on your left?”

Rogers moved to roll over but growled in pain. Sending Katan back to his room once more, this time for a pillow or sheets, Ian continued to try and make Rogers comfortable.

“Can you talk?” Ian asked.

“Yea,” Rogers replied in a raspy voice.

“Are you hit anywhere else?”

Rogers just shook his head and took another breath. His lips were now returning to a normal shade.

Katan returned with the sheets and Ian used them to prop up Rogers’ feet, head, and right shoulder.

“I’m all out of pain killers, but you should be ok.”

Turning back to Dyrke, “he needs something more than a band aid.”

Dyrke shook his head, “you’re it kid. Just do the best you can.”

Ian frowned. He was no doctor, and his little tool kit was not even an adequate first aid kit.

“Let me look at your shoulder.”

“Don’t worry about me kid. I’ll be fine.” And with that Dyrke hopped off the table and turned to leave.

“You did good out there kid… and in here. Welcome to the team.” With that Dyrke walked on out.

The fatigue threatened to overtake him once again. “What have I gotten myself into,” Ian asked himself. The rest of the team had followed Dyrke out of the room. Looking back at his patient Ian noticed that he had passed out, but he was breathing ok.

He couldn’t help himself. Clearing off the other table Ian just laid down and fell fast asleep once more.

One of Them

2007-01-30T13:16:00.000-05:00

“Come on lad. Dyrke will have my hide if I don’t get you out of the area in one piece.”

Ian’s ears had stopped ringing and the little white dots clung only to the edges of his vision. He shrugged to get the large man to stop long enough so he could stand on his own two feet once more.

“Why did you save me Boanerges?” Ian said as he looked the severely scarred man in the eyes. “I thought this was my test?”

“You made it all the way to the door on your own kid, hell of an effort if I do say so myself.” The Van Saar heavy shifted the heavy machine gun in his hands. Ian could not help but stare at the scar move as the man spoke. “When you went down to your knees I thought you were gone, but you never stopped moving until you reached the door.”

Looking back into the man’s eyes Ian replied, “I don’t remember anything after that slug slammed into this.” Ian held up the nomad rifle he took as proof of his trip. Looking down at the rifle it was a mess. The optics for the scope was smashed out and the firing chamber had a breach where a large caliber slug had tore into it as Ian carried it across his back.

“Hey, all I said was that you had to bring proof of reaching ‘Hell’s Gate’, I never said anything about pissing of any Nomads. They don’t take too kindly to us hivers being out in their turf, not to mention the pilfering of their goods.” The heavy had a gleam in his eyes. He smacked Ian heavily on his shoulders. “You’re good enough for me kid. Just as soon as we get back to the ‘Bifrost’ the first round is on me.”

BAWHOOOM!!!!

The sound of the Nomad demolition charge caused Ian’s ears to ring once more. Dust and metallic chaff filled the small dome. Both Ian and Boanerges regained their feet and looked back for Dyrke and the rest of the team.

Dyrke was standing in the middle of the dust storm that now howled through the breach of the hive wall. “Boanerges, get the kid and Cacee back to the Bifrost. We’ll be along shortly!” And with that he and the other two Van Saar began shooting into the breach.

Cacee’s autogun and Boanerges’ heavy stubber joined the chorus of the battle now being joined.

“Move back kid!”

The heavy motioned his head over his shoulder. Looking down at the obviously useless las pistol in his hands Ian hesitated.

“I said get moving!” and with that the Heavy let loose a long burst from his weapon as if to emphasize his point.

The staccato of gun fire began to increase. The Nomads had started to return fire in an attempt to suppress the Van Saar and gain the breach.

Ian slung his trophy across his back once more. Once he reached the relative safety of the shadows in the back of the dome he stopped. Cacee had joined him and aimed his assault rifle back towards the gaping wound in the hive.

The Nomad return fire was furious and was beginning to overwhelm Dyrke and his fellow defenders. Ian looked through the haze trying to spot any of the rest of the team. Katan had Rogers under his left arm while in his right he braced his autogun. Firing from the hip Rogers kept the Nomads at bay for the moment. With his foot Katan kicked open a grate in the floor and glanced down and seemed to be talking to someone. The man then lowered his cargo as gently as he could, stood back up and let loose with burst after burst from his autogun in all directions, all the while screaming into the wind.

Finally, his ammunition spent, Katan jumped feet first into the hole in the floor.

Once Boanerges saw that the area was clear he also stopped his salvos and turned to leave. Ian watched as the pair of Van Saar fell back in an orderly fashion, not returning fire anymore so as to not give away their avenue of retreat. As he followed the men into the tunnels of Hive: Primus Ian heard the sound of the enemy gun fire slowly abate behind them.

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

Ian stumbled as the fatigue of his trials began to take a toll on his body. Muscles ached that he never knew he had and his ribs throbbed from where he took a Delaque knife… when was that? Three or four days ago now?

“Come on kid. Only another half a kilometer and we’ll be back home at the Bifrost.”

Looking up at the grizzled Van Saar Ian was filled with an inward sense of pride. The Heavy had not called him ‘little rat’ and included him as one of them. His new home was now the Bifrost with the rest of the Van Saar gang known as ‘Team Delta’. Ian just prayed that he would never let his new family down.

Finally the Bifrost came into view. Their approach brought them up from the underside of the massive bridge and drinking hole. The chasm it spanned was over twenty meters across and five hundred meters deep. Just like other similar areas of the hive industrious hivers moved in to take advantage of perceived business opportunities. (The Bifrost being one such example.) Make shift lifts adorned the chasm walls. Some linked the bridge area with the floor below, others to mine claims, and yet still more to hab sites that recently started to spring up – all the result of the new trade routes being established between the underhive below and hive city above.

The lifts were all quiet at this time of day. Although the hive factories operated on a full twenty six hour day some sense of normalcy was imposed on the hive. Lights are dimmed for six hours for what is considered the primary rest cycle. Being this close to the edge of civilization meant that things were not always ‘normal’, but even here people tended to retreat indoors during the times of imposed darkness.

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

The gang’s rooms were slung underneath the bridge. Old long forgotten cargo containers had been lowered and welded to the underside of the bridge with access points to both the drinking hole that they provided protection services for, and the exterior to ensure less observable comings and goings. It was pretty spacious for the underhive, more then a score of rooms and all to themselves.

“Go on ahead. I’ll wait here for Dyrke and the others,” Cacee said.

Ian caught the non-verbal exchange between Cacee and Boanerges. All three of them had seen that one of the team had been injured.

“Come on kid. I’ll show you your new space.”

As the pair climbed the last ladder Ian’s body began to relax. He let the fatigue wash over him and he barely heard the Heavy tell him where his room was. Instead he just walked into the indicated room, set down his gear on a small table, and collapsed into what apparently was his bed.

Sleep took him quickly.

To Hell and Back

2007-01-24T15:43:00.000-05:00

Chapter 8 – “To Hell and Back”
Pt. 1

“Your last test is down that tunnel.”

Ian looked down at the hole that was once a sewer access point. “Where’s Boanerges?”

“He will meet you at the other end, and before you ask any more questions, he will address them.”

Without another word Katan turned to leave. Over his shoulder he said, “You did good. If you survive this one you will have earned some respect among the team.”

Ian stared at the Van Saar ganger’s back as he disappeared into the shadows. Calling out into the darkness he yelled, “How am I supposed to recognize him? I’ve never even met the man.”

“You will know him when you see him. He is… unforgettable,” the shadows answered back. Then Ian was left to ponder what lay ahead.

“Nothing to it, but to do it,” he thought to himself. With that he lowered himself into the old sewer drain and turned on his torch.

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

The old sewer line was cramped for the most part but gradually expanded as other feeder lines joined it. Soon Ian was able to stand full upright and straddle, or avoid all together, the trickle of fluorescent sludge as it meandered on its way. There was no light beyond what his little torch could illuminate and despite his best efforts his footsteps echoed.

For over an hour and a half Ian negotiated the tunnel, passing the occasional carcass or warding off a small predator. Finally he reached the end. In the past bars once blocked the opening but now most of them had been cut off for salvage.

Stopping ten meters short of the end Ian listened and try to determine if there was anything laying in wait. The last thing he needed was to get jumped by some predator.

“You might as well come on out ‘little rat’. Your footsteps announced your approach long ago.”

Ian’s shoulder slumped slightly despite his attempts to conceal his disappointment. At least he knew it was not something waiting to eat him for dinner.

A piece of metal still protruded from the ferocrete and he used it to swing clear of the sludge pool that the sewer dumped into. When he landed his left foot landed wrong. To avoid rolling his ankle Ian dropped and was dumped unceremoniously at the feet of a very tall and imposing man.

The first thing Ian noticed where his boots. They were not standard Van Saar issue, solid black; quick-snap buckles along the front, and a solid metal toe. He had seen them once before… where was that? On the Enforcers! His jumpsuit was the same blue, grey, and black pixel pattern as the others on the team he had met. The utility harness was also of Enforcer issue, solid black that held several pouches and a holster that was secured with a strap around his right thigh. The holster contained a pristine Bolt Pistol. Cradled in the man’s arms was the first piece of Van Saar issue equipment he had seen on the man. An air cooled heavy machine gun with bi-pod support with a magazine feed system that was superior to the belt fed models that the other houses seem to favor. Hanging from a pair of straps was a mask that no longer concealed his face. The visage that met Ian’s eyes caused fear to creep into his heart. The left side of the man’s face was gnarled and the skin, if it could be called that, was transparent revealing bone and muscle. Even the eyelid over the left eye revealed what was beneath. Instinctively Ian dropped his eyes to look away.

“Are you just going to lie there, or are you going to get this test over with?” The Van Saar said apparently not taking notice of Ian’s discomfort.

“Right,” Ian said as he stood up. “You must be Boanerges.” Ian stretched forced himself to reach out his hand, but the man ignored it.

“This test is a simple one really. All you have to do is travel to a small trading post known as ‘Hell’s Gate’, and return with evidence of your visit.”

“Ok, so where is this place?”

As if on cue the Van Saar ganger swung open a small service door and said, “Right this way”. Boanerges grunted as a sudden gust of wind grabbed at the door and threatened to pull it out of his grasp. Debris kicked up from the wind smacked against the two men and Ian ducked his head to protect himself.

“What is it?” Ian asked.

“It is the ash wastes... I will await your return here.”

-=-=-=0=-=-=-

“It’s just not natural,” Ian thought to himself. “If man had been meant to live outside the hive he would not need a respirator and goggles to survive.”

The only things to be seen for as far as he was able were dune upon dune of industrial wastes. The constant shifting and affects of toxic rains reduced the resins and polymers to a sand-like consistency. Lifting his eyes the only constant reference point he had was the hive itself. The wind kicked up dust clouds constantly obscuring his vision, cloud cover above swirled caused light levels to change often, and even the ash beneath his feet felt unstable.

“Who could live in this Emperor forsaken place?” Ian thought to himself. The only additional guidance Boanerges gave him before he shut the door, his only way back into the world he knew, was that he had to follow the outer shell of the hive for two kilometers and he would find “Hell’s Gate”. In the hive such a journey could take a person the better part of a day if the paths were difficult; and out here it was impossible to tell how far he had gone or how far there was left.

Dunes shifted seemingly at will. Sludge rivers would appear out of nowhere, meander aimlessly along, and then disappear below the wastes once more. And yet Ian always kept the hive in sight. As if he knew that if he failed to do so this test would prove to be too much.

One stream pushed Ian over five hundred meters from the safety of the hive wall, but just as it dropped below the ash wastes his goal was revealed. At the bottom of a hidden gorge lay a small settlement. On the outskirts lay a small encampment with several small vehicles among the tents. Glancing back Ian looked at the hive once more and then headed down the hill.

The gates were closed up tight as the sun, long not seen through the toxic cloud layer above, had set several hours ago. The camp too was quiet. Ian had detected only two sentries patrolling among the tents. There was no visible access to the Shanty settlement but the tents were another matter entirely. With the exception of the guards there was nothing to stop him from just grabbing something and getting back.

Ian just let his head slip above the last dune between him and the encampment and waited. Although the guards did not have a set pattern to their progress they did eventually both begin to head away from his vantage point.

Slipping over the dune Ian wasted no time. The thing to him was a tent that had a big motorbike parked in front. It was not ostentatious, but it was slightly larger than the others. No guards were posted out front so Ian slipped cautiously into the tent and out of the direct line of sight of the patrols.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust. Having spent a lifetime inside the hive his eyes adjusted to the very dim light quickly. There was a small back area cordoned off from the front area. From there he heard a slight snore. The main room was fairly plain. Some cooking pots, a small box filled with who knew what, a table and even a chair. Adjacent to the table was a small display, upon which stood a long heavy barreled rifle with a small optical scope. Just below that was a knife what had a blade extending not just above the handle, but below it as well.

He needed something to prove that he had been to ‘Hell’s Gate’ – either one of these little trophies should do. Without hesitation Ian hefted up the rifle. It felt good in his hands and he couldn’t help himself. Tucking the butt stock into his shoulder he nestled his cheek against the weapon and peered through the scope, very comfortable. Dropping the weapon into the cradle of his arms he looked back over the table for any ammunition, nothing. Oh well, this will do.

Before Ian slipped out he listened to make sure that he had not disturbed the owner. After he heard the snoring continue he allowed himself to breath once more. A quick check of the area in front of the tent verified that the guards had not returned and he slipped back out into the open.

Now all he had to do was get back across the first dune and he would be home free. Slinging his new prize across his shoulders he took off for the dune. There would be no way to know where the guards had gone without running into one of them, and that would not do.

Fifteen long seconds Ian ran full out. As he crested the dune he kicked his feet out from under himself and slid to a stop. Turning back around he inched his way back up and lifted his head once more over the top of the dune. Ian’s heart skipped a beat. His trail was obvious. He might as well have dropped his torch as a calling card. There was no time to lose. He had to make for the hive and hope he could get a good enough head start to out run those bikes.

Chapter 8 – “To Hell and Back”
Pt. 2

Ian’s breathing was labored as he struggled to fill his lungs with usable oxygen. His respirator was struggling to keep up with the demand, but glancing down at his body suit’s reaction to the surrounding atmosphere there was no other choice, the mask had to remain in place.

How had he lost his orientation? Oh he knew exactly where the hive was, but the angle of his return path was off. Even with the shifting dunes Ian knew he had not passed this way before. The plateau he now found himself on was rocky and peppered with sink holes and mounds. Almost as if on queue to his next question a geyser erupted only twenty meters to Ian’s left spewing some kind of liquid fifty meters into the air. The air currents carried the bulk of it behind him but a fine mist rained down all around him. Even through the filters he could smell the distinct odor of acid eating away at whatever it touched. “Just another example of how Necromunda tries to kill you”, Ian thought to himself. Looking around the geyser field stretched out for several hundred meters in all directions. As Ian looked back the way he had come a pair of motorbikes vaulted over the edge of the dunes and raced across the field right at him. Without further hesitation he renewed his flight.

Thirty meters from the edge of the geyser field Ian could now hear the throaty roar of the engines that hounded him and he realized he was never going to make it of the field before they ran him down. Stopping dead in his tracks Ian drew a las pistol in one hand and a knife in the other. The bikes were at fifty meters and closing fast.

One rider dropped some sort of rifle across the handlebars of his bike and began letting loose – despite being well out of the effective range. The other readied a nasty looking double headed axe from across his back and dropped it into a low ready position in his right hand. Both laid into their accelerators and picked up speed. Ian dropped onto one knee and took aim at the lead bike.

Fwooosssssshh! A geyser opened up beneath the shooter’s rear wheel causing the bike and rider to cartwheel over ten meters into the air. His companion reacted quickly and smoothly steering around the carnage that was his partner, but it was exactly what he should not have done.

The geyser field also hid several fissures that had been caked over by thin layers of ash. The extra stress of the maneuvers on the terrain caused it give way and Necromunda swallowed up the bike and its rider. As his fear began to subside Ian realized he was in danger of hyperventilating. “Get moving Ian, get back to the hive,” was all he could say to himself.

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

“There it is! Move it!” Ian screamed to himself. Only a hundred meters left to go, but he could feel the presence of his pursuers hot on his heels. Glancing back he could see maybe a dozen men, mostly on foot but one or two buggies also in the mix. But Ian was barely walking. His lungs were screaming for more air, and his muscles were threatening to refuse his commands from lack of oxygen. But so close to safety spurned his will on and once more he was up and running.

“Come on!” Ian yelled at himself, only fifty meters to go. The roar of the engines could now be heard.

At Twenty meters to go the hatch to his freedom sprang open. Immediately rounds from an auto cannon began to impact against the wall surrounding the door.

Ten… five, “almost there!” Suddenly Ian was hammered by a blow across his back. The impact of some incredible force drove him forward onto his knees. White spots filled his eyesight, and he could no longer draw a breath no matter how hard he tried. Even before the white filled his vision it turned to black and he saw nothing more.

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

The next thing Ian realized was that he was being dragged, and none too gently. Something was snagged, and there was a lot of yelling. What ever it was also released him and he dropped unceremoniously to the floor. Who was yelling, and why couldn’t he hear through the ringing in his ears?

Looking around he saw several familiar faces but his mind could not recall their names. One man with a reddish black goatee and a heavy stubber was yelling and motioning for him to move back. The man hollered something else and let loose a long burst from his machine gun. Another man handed him something and shoved him to move on.

Ian just stared at the weapon that was thrust upon him. It was bent at an odd angle, and the firing chamber had obviously been breached. Finally a man with a full beard grabbed the man with the machine gun by the collar, pointed at Ian, and then pointed somewhere beyond Ian’s point of view. The heavy looked as if he was about to argue, but then nodded. With a determined look on his face the heavy scooped up Ian by his arms and practically dragged him away form the door.

At last Ian’s ears began to clear and he shrugged to get the man to stop carrying him along. Looking back Ian could see that there was no a ten meter hole in the wall they had just come from and several men clad in hooded cloaks and respirators were coming through the breach.

“Come on lad. Dyrke has made it very clear that you are to get out of the area. Katan and Rogers are staying behind with him to cover our retreat.”

Fight or Flight

2007-01-11T16:45:00.000-05:00

“Come on you Emperor damned beast!”

No matter how much Bahlaam spurred or whipped the beast it just would not move. For several hours the man had been trying to rejoin his gang, a Shanty Towne horde. He had joined in hopes of earning some respect, and maybe even some guilders for his trouble.

“A little raid is all says he. Be home by supper. My Emperor forsaken rump says I!” He said shaking his fist at the toxin filled sky. “Them Nomads are mighty pissed, I tell you what… Come on you stubborn lizard!”

The two legged beast just turned its head and looked bored, and no amount of prodding seemed to regain the interest of the animal.

“Fine, have it your way.” And with that he got down off the animal and fetched a pair of binoculars out of his saddle bag. Tracking his mount’s trail back the way they had come he wanted to see if the Nomads had followed them in search of vengeance. More than once he could have sworn that he heard the roar of an engine over the unceasing winds, only to see nothing beyond the dunes.

Returning to the saddle bags he withdrew a handful of feed for his mount.

“Come now Dokey. We best be getting back to ‘Hell’s Gate’ before sun down or else them Nomads are gonna make a meal out of ya.”

The beast gobbled up the food, but would not budge until it had had another six more handfuls of food. Finally remounting the beast the both of them headed out, racing over the dunes, where once more towards home.

As the pair neared ‘Dead Man’s pass’ Bahlaam noticed several overturned vehicles and smoke winding its way up to join the clouds above. The closer they approached the more carnage he saw and the more it became obvious that his fellow militia had been ambushed. By the amount of dead (both man and beast) it would appear that not many, if any, had survived. Pulling his beast up short on top of an ash dune some hundred meters distant, he surveyed the killing ground. As he peered through the binoculars his attention was more on the bluffs overlooking the pass then upon the dead below.

His options were limited. The pass was the only safe passage back to ‘Hell’s gate’. A sludge sea filled the area to the south, and an acid geyser field to his north. It would take him days to go around either one, and his food was all but out.

“Necromunda you have lived up to your name this day, haven’t ya.” Bahlaam thought to himself. After several minutes of surveying the area he could not detect a single living thing. Leaning over he talked gently into his mount’s ear.

“Dokey, you must fly and you mustn’t stop for nothin’. You hear me! There is no where else for us to go. Come on now, get on home! H’ya!”

Digging in both heals into the beast’s ribs Bahlaam urged the lizard-beast into a headlong flight down the dunes, straight for the mouth of the pass.

His mount seemed to sense the danger and picked up speed. Without hesitation or further instruction from its rider the beast vaulted clear of dead and debris, never turning from their goal and the relative safety ahead.

Bahlaam let the animal dictate the path and speed. They two had been together since he was old enough to ride and his mount had always brought him home. Instead he continued to scan the bluffs now looming above his head, searching for anything that might reveal imminent danger.

“CRACK!” The unmistakable report of a rifle played off the rock formations, but the beast never skipped a step and both mount and rider raced into the pass through the other side of the Nomad killzone.

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

“Open the gates! The Militia is returning, open the gates!”

Slowly the massive metal doors swung wide. But there were no militia to greet the townspeople, just a lone beast. Its rider being dragged still connected to the stirrup.

Several people ran out to help the man, but it was too late. The man was dead – a single, large caliber, bullet hole to the forehead which exited via a small cavern out the back.