Proving Grounds

This is the humble, and oft rambling, tale of Ian Hauk. He is of not so humble beginnings (by Hive City standards) and his life is of little importance to those who do not know him. It is merely a tale of just one man among the billions of Hive: Primus.

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

Once the door had shut behind him Ian took a minute to try and figure out what he needed to do next. Where he was going was not in question as the tunnel he was now in led down hill for some distance. How he was going to join up with any gang, let alone one from “Force Delta”, was still unknown.

With no other path available to him Ian followed the tunnel. The light level was very low making his progress slow. As he neared the end the tunnel the area was lit up with the flashes and sounds of a firefight just beyond his field of view. Ian’s heart was in his throat now. For a moment his fear gave him pause, but then his determination won over. As he checked that his pistol was powered up he inched closer to the end of the tunnel. A bald headed man dressed in a trench coat and another man dresses up in a Van Saar envirosuit were wrestling on the floor. Ian witnessed the Delaque land a viscous blow to the other man’s head causing him to stop struggling. The Delaque stood up, adjusted the dark goggles that covered his eyes, and leveled a stub pistol at the prone man’s head. “And so this struggle ends…”

“AAhhhhhh!” Without a thought Ian was launching himself from his concealed position full bore towards the Delaque assailant with his pistol leveled at his back.

The Delaque’s finger twitched on the trigger causing the pistol in his hand to bark as he wheeled around to face his new adversary. But he was a heart beat too soon. Ian’s squeezed the trigger on his las pistol once, twice, three times and more. One of them found its mark slamming into the head of the Delaque sending him sprawling. Once his opponent went down Ian wasn’t sure what to do. Walking up to him he noticed he was just another juve too. Ian kicked him once in the ribs to see if there was any reaction, but he just laid there. Satisfied that he would not be jumped from behind Ian bent over the Van Saar juve to see what condition he was in.

A savage gash across the left side of his head left his ear tattered and torn. Blood was pouring freely from the wound. ‘Typical of head wounds,’ Ian thought to himself – remembering the medical training from his father’s bionics lab.

“W-w-who are you?” the juve asked weakly

“Ian, Ian Hauk. Who are you?”

“Your n-not supposed to be here.”

“It’s alright. I’m a late addition to the trials.”

“N-no, I know all of the juves in this cycle. Y-your not…” and with that the Van Saar fell unconscious.

Going over to the downed Delaque Ian used his knife and cut several strips of cloth from the man’s trench coat. As he moved back to the Van Saar juve sounds of another fire fight not too far away broke the silence once more. Ian did the best he could to fashion a bandage to stop the bleeding, but he could not linger.

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

Ian had found himself in some form of hab structure. The rooms and hallways were a maze. Some walls had been blown through creating additional walkways between hab units. It was a mess compared to Van Saar hab standards, but that didn’t matter since it had become obvious that this hab building no longer housed anyone.

After several minutes he was unable to locate the other gun fight so he had tried to find his way back to the wounded Van Saar juve. But he had gotten turned around and was now lost. The rooms all looked alike and one demolition hole looked like all the others. Then he sensed it… someone was following him. Not wanting to tip his hand Ian turned into the next doorway and once he was confident of being out of sight he took off at a run. Counting doorways he ducked behind the fifth door on his right. Once around the door he slowly lowered himself to the floor and peered around the door jam to watch the way he had come.

His flight had not gone unnoticed as he had hoped as his pursuer was into the hallway before Ian could ready his pistol without being noticed. The man coming up the hallway stood ram rod straight and in his grip was a shotgun. Ian struggled to control his breathing as he fought to keep from passing out. The man cocked the weapon forcefully ejecting some spent cartridge to the floor.

As the casing chimed and bounced off the floor the man called out, “I know you’re in here tunnel rat. You’re not supposed to be here either.” And the hallway fell silent.

Ian was still struggling to maintain his breathing. He knew for sure that his gasping for breath, or the pounding of his heartbeat, was going to betray his position.

“I also know you helped that kid back there. This is a closed session. You best come out before I start blowing holes in the remaining walls. Sooner or later I’ll connect with something other than ferocrete.” The man yelled, pausing between each sentence to allow it to sink in.

Ian sat there quietly. How could he know if the man was being straight with him? Looking around the room there were no other exits. ‘Good job Ian. Way to back yourself into a corner.’

“How do I know you won’t just blow me away?” Ian called back.

“You don’t, but I can tell you that your bandaging of the kid back there has not gone unnoticed.”

Ian let that sink in for a moment. He stood up and stepped into the hallway. As he did so that man with the shotgun also stepped out. He was dressed in a blue, grey, and black pixeled bodysuit and a jet black goatee adorned his face. Van Saar. Ian breathed a sigh of relief. He let the las pistol turn over and dangle from his middle finger.

“Best come with me. Dyrke is going to want a word with you.” The man said taking the pistol from Ian.

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

“You were not sanctioned to be here. How did you come to be here juve!”

Ian straightened his back and looked the man in his eyes. “I have earned a right to these trials…”

“You mean bribed your way in,” another man said from the back of the room.

“How I came to be here is not what matters, what matters is…”

“He’s not been cleared by the Union house!” said another.

“I can take whatever trials you can send my way. Besides, I can be of use to you.”

Chuckles erupted form around the room. The man now known to Ian as Dyrke raised his hand and silenced those around them.

“Maybe little rat. You may have saved Gaston’s ear at that. But you still have not proved your worth to the teams.”

Dyrke walked a circle around Ian and then said, “I can get the proper papers signed…” Ian’s heart began to beat faster, “but, you still need to earn a spit on the teams.” The team leader let that statement sink in. “First I want to see how handy you can be. Take him back to the kid and see if he really does have… skills.”

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

Ian was escorted to where the other Van Saar juve had been taken. His wound had seeped through the bandages and he was now coming to.

“You again,” was all that the kid could muster.

Ian unwrapped the bandage and winced when he saw the damage. As he went to offer the kid some pain medicine the kid refused. “I don’t need any.” Was all he said.

“You might not think so in a minute.”

But the kid never said anything more. Ian cut away the dead tissue and repaired what he could. The bionics lab was so much more sterile and had an abundance of tools. All he had to work with here was a knife, some antiseptic, and a crude needle and thread. He was still quite pleased with himself when he was through. He was unable to save the ear, and the sutures created a good fifteen centimeter scar line, but it was the best he could do. The worst that the kid would have is a pretty pronounced scar, but at least he will still have his hearing.

“Not bad ‘rat’,” the voice of Dyrke sounded behind him.

Ian turned around to see the smiling face of the Van Saar lieutenant. But the man’s face turned somber. Your skills would indeed be useful, but you still have not earned the right to join the teams. We need to see you in action. Your trial begins tomorrow.

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

The Life and Times of Ian Hauk

This is the humble, and oft rambling, tale of Ian Hauk. He is of not so humble beginnings (by Hive City standards) and his life is of little importance to those who do not know him. It is merely a tale of just one man among the billions of Hive: Primus.

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

Despite the air filtration system keeping the lab supplied with plenty of germ free cool 10 degree Celsius air, Ian Vant considered it stuffy. His parents sought to protect him from the often violent nature that was the reality of Hive City by apprenticing him to the labs. Even better, guide and prepare him to take over the family business when it was time. The more Ian thought about what his future would unfold to be, the more oppressive the controlled atmosphere became. It was time to execute his plan to redirect his fate.

Even through the insulated walls he could hear the gongs signaling the shift change. He was going to miss those sounds. Not as abrasive or obnoxious as the whistles and bellows of the uncouth Orlocks or barbaric Goliaths – at least that what he’d been told. Checking his watch Ian knew it would be another seven hours before he would be missed by his parents – a luxury most juves in hive city did not share. As Ian hung up his lab coat in his locker he pulled out a small set of lenses from the pocket – the last components he needed to complete the las pistol he had been building with salvaged (stolen) parts from around the lab.

“Are you heading to the clubs Mr. Vant?” asked the security guard.

Ian glanced back over his shoulder before stopping to turn around. “No Garse, thought I’d hit the gambling dens tonight.” And with that he left his father’s workshops.

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

The streets along the Van Saar gambling district were packed. It seemed that every pleasure girl and hustler knew when the factory workers received their allotments, and they were looking to get as much of it as possible. Ignoring the cat calls and sales pitches Ian ducked into his favorite hall, “The Bifrost”.

But instead of hitting his usual tables he just kept walking right out the back door. Before he stepped out into the alley he peered into the gloom, nothing. “This is it,” he thought to himself. As the door slipped shut behind him he was not sure of which direction to go when he was startled by a voice.

“Just where do you think you are going little man?”

Ian whirled around pulling his knife free of his sheath.

“If I was after your purse, or your hide, little man you’d be a pile of recyc where you are standing.” Stepping from the shadows was a man a full two meters tall, dressed in a trench coat that came within centimeters of the alley floor. It fully encompassed his stature, and Ian knew that it also concealed several weapons. “You’re late.”

“I had to finish my shift Carston,” Ian said as he slid his knife back into its sheath. “Have all the arrangements been made?”

“Well, that depends. Do you have the final installment of my money?”

“Two hundred credits, right where I said I would leave it for you.”

The man just nodded. “Right this way then Mr. Vant.”

Despite Ian going over and over the plans in his head he was still having a hard time keeping track of their progress. Alleys, tunnels, and walkways twisted and turned in never ending circles until they finally reached their destination. “Your new safe house Mr. Vant, “the bounty hunter said lifting his arm inviting Ian in. “You should be quite comfortable until you get on your own two feet.”

Looking around the two room hab it had all the luxuries that he had made great pains to outline for the man. A small kitchen and an air handler that would be the envy of the block. “Perfect. Thanks. Remember, when my father hires you to come looking for me, you’ve never heard of this place. Right?”

“Never heard of what place?” He said as he closed the door leaving Ian to his thoughts. “The money had best be where you left it little man," the bounty hunter said threough the door, "else my memory is going to go a whole lot clearer.”

“No worries about that,” Ian thought to himself. “It’s there,” he called back through the door. Why cheat the man. Besides, he needed all the head start he could get. He knew that once his father had hired the mercenary his measly five hundred credits would not be nearly enough to buy his freedom. But that would not be for at least three more shift cycles – when he would fail to report for his assigned work schedule. Only then would his father really take notice of his absence.

Completely happy with how his plans were unfolding Ian moved around the hab pulling out several small packages then proceeded to dump them on a small table. As he inventoried the pile his grin faded. The power cell was missing.

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

Hesitating before the Union house Ian took a deep breath. The missing power cell was a minor set back, but not enough to derail his plan. His father would not check the Union houses for at least a week. After all why would a man of privilege stoop to serve in the gangs? Even so the handful of credits paid to the pleasure house to teach him the skills to change his appearance were well spent. Altering his complexion and hair color just enough that the descriptions would not match.

As he entered into the Union house he spied his contact off to the side of throngs of gangs and potential recruits and headed straight for him. “Is everything set?”

The Union security guard looked over Ian’s shoulder as he answered. “We’re all set ‘Hauk’. The best I can do is get you into a ‘Juve trial run’ this afternoon. Do you have the rest of my money?”

Ian sifted through the leg pockets of his body suit and fished out a small money bag. “This is the last of it, fifty credits.”

“We talked about a hundred Hauk,” the guards voice began to rise.

“Look, it’s going to have to be enough. It’s all I’ve got left. And I’m gonna need your spare power cell for you las as well.”

The guard fidgeted as if he was going to back out of the deal. That would not be good because it really was the last of his money, he still needed the power cell, and he would not be able to return to his apartment. He was past the point of no return now.

Finally after a long uncomfortable pause the guard looked him in the eyes. “Alright, but if I see your face again I’m gonna run you in myself. Meet me at the back stairs in ten minutes.”

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

Arriving at the stairwell the guard was there waiting for him. “The only reason I decided to proceed with this is that the only gang giving tryouts today are from “Force Delta” – and if you can make it with them, I might be able to call in a favor later.”

Now it was Ian’s turn to fidget. “Alright, do you have that power cell?”

"Force Delta" was known for their grueling juve tryouts that lasted for days. And it was not just the tryouts. Although they were never fully acknowledged by the house elders, it was commonly believed that they took on the more difficult missions below ‘The Wall’.

“Here you go. It has a full charge so it should last. Right this way my friend.” And with that the guard led Ian down the back stairwell to a door that had no lights near it. “Once this door closes you are committed. The tryouts have already begun, and once the door shuts I will not be around to let you back through. The guard hesitated a moment to see if Ian would back out and when he didn’t he pushed the door open. “Good luck to ya.”

Ian looked at the man in the eyes and stepped through the door, which immediately shut behind him. “No going back now,” he thought to himself.

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

Promotion

“What is this,” Fist asked hefting the heavy dataslate to read it.

“Your promotion orders. You’re moving on Sergeant Fist.”

Fist looked up at his patrol sergeant, then back down to the dataslate to see if it was some kind of joke. It looked real enough.

“But Sarge, I don’t get it. I haven't done anything spectacular. I’ve only just arrived last quarter.”

“You’re a natural leader Fist. I saw it immediately when I arrived here. The men looked to you after the death of your previous patrol sergeant. And don’t think that the arrest of that Delaque didn’t go unnoticed by those who sit all comfortable above ‘the wall’ neither.”

Fist sat there for a minute trying to absorb it all. He’d grown to think of the men of precinct 254A1 has his new gang, those who he could trust and those who could trust him. Boengeles especially, the patrol’s heavy stubber man. The poor man had suffered a horrible scar during the raid on the Delaque stronghold out in the wastes. The result was a genuine sense of fear by the commoners around the precinct house. When ever he was on patrol people would divert their eyes and move to the other side of the street, or duck quickly into a nearby doorway. He was more like a brother than a fellow enforcer.

“You don’t have much time. A Guilder caravan is leaving for the wall in two shift cycles.”

“Thanks Sarge. You think it’d be alright if I take a couple of guys down to ‘Purges’ for a few pints to celebrate?”

“I thought you’d want to. I gave Boanerges and couple of the others off this cycle. But if you miss the caravan you’re gonna have to hoof it solo all the way to the wall to make it for the next training cycle. And you better believe me when I tell you that you don’t want to be late for that.”

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

“Barkeep! Another round of snake for my boys here!” Fist shouted to apparently no one. When the four Enforcers had walked in the regulars slowly found other places they needed to be and the tavern owner seemed to always have something to do in the backroom. As a matter of fact the only denizens that seemed interested in what the Enforcers were up to were the local ladies of pleasure, bet even they kept a respectful distance.

“Ah, let’s blow this joint” Boanerges said standing up, swaying slightly to his left. Fist shrugged is shoulders and thought ‘why not’. The rest of the black clad Enforcers stood and headed for the door. As Fist reached the door he tossed a handful of ‘guilders’ on the bar.

The streets were mostly empty as the day cycle had long since ended so it was easy to find ‘Gavin’s’ place – the local gambling den. It was a place open twenty four imperial hours a day with the games and the entertainment running without stop. The place was packed but as the Enforcers moved to the back of the bar area the sea of people parted and then reformed behind them. As the four men set down the designated bar maid was promptly on there to take their order. Once she returned with their drinks the other two left to see to their fortunes at the various gaming tables, leaving Fist and Boanerges to their on-going conversation.

“So are you gonna take it?” Asked the bulky Enforcer.

Fist stared into his mug which was holding something so murky he didn’t dare contemplate what went into it. “I don’t know Bo, not entirely sure I have a choice.”

The two men sat starting into their mugs. “As soon as they give me a squad I’ll put in a request to get you pulled over.”

The big Enforcer just grunted, but as he opened his mouth to speak the crashing of a table overturning interrupted further conversation. “Looks like it’s time we were on our way…”

Along the wall closest to the exit one of their fellow Enforcers was in a lively discussion with another patron of the gambling hall.

“You boys walk the streets all high and mighty. You ain’t so tough. So far from your house, and with out your fancy armor.” The crowd slowly pulled back from the pair.

“Look, you’re just not that good of a bones player. Let me make amends for taking your money. Here, let me buy you another drink. Barkeep!...”

The other man was obviously drunk and it was fueling his bravado. Squaring up his shoulders he pulled up a pant leg revealing a concealed stubber.

“Look friend, you don’t want that kind of trouble. Why don’t we…”

With a speed that defied his condition the drunk was dropping to one knee and drawing his pistol. As his arm came level a loud crack broke the silence as the small explosive projectile impacted squarely on his forehead. The arm continued its upward motion, but the now lifeless finger convulsed upon the trigger launching its lethal payload. An unsuspecting woman standing behind the enforcer cried out.

The opposing Enforcer didn’t look behind him but slowly rotated keeping his now smoldering Bolt pistol in front of him. The other three Enforcers now had their pistols drawn.

“Come on Fenrer. We best get you home before you cause any more trouble and cost me more guilders.”

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

Shortly before lights up the shadowed figure slung a combat shotgun across his back and reached down to pick up his heavy bag. With nothing more than a soft shuffle of his boots he made his way down the long barracks hall, stopping briefly before the last door. Setting the bag down he pulled a small envelop from his jacket and slid it under the door. He then paused a moment, then turned and reached for the handle.

“Your caravan doesn’t leave for another cycle. You gonna just up and leave like that?”

Fist turned back to face the man at the other end of the hall. “Yea Sarge. I, um, made arrangements with another caravan. They leave at lights up.”

“Well, you best get going then.”

Without another word Fist slipped out into the compound and the shadows beyond.

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

The rusty gate shuddered under an impact that threatened to break the hinges. Moaning and painful grunts from within the large sewer grew louder. “Make way you scabs! Make way for Pustful or its into the pot with you!”

From the deep shadows came a tall figure. With a autogun propped over his shoulder held in his right hand and his left holding a heavy looking scepter he came to the fore. “I know you lads have the strength. Stop playing around and let’s get on with it. Beyond lies meat, fresh meat.”

The two large scab and puss covered mutants grunted their agreement and in unison threw their massive bulks once more upon the grate causing the rusty hinges to shatter. The gate now swung using the locking mechanism as an awkward hinge.

“Let’s go boys! It’s fresh meat tonight!”

Rescue Mission

This is yet another 'fresh' story thread... What can I say... I was watching the movie Aliens the other day and I threw together a gang for fun... and then the story plot line just came to mind... who knows. Maybe this will be yet another story line. :)

==============

Smoke billowed forth from several ruined crates and make shift wagons. The dead and untended wounded where sprawled throughout the wreckage, all the while a score and two large muscle bound men moved about picking through the carnage seeing what could be scavenged. Among it all stood one who was a full head taller, his Mohawk hair cut dyed in a garish green and looked as if it flowed from his eye brows right up and over and down his spine. He surveyed the scene with an appreciation of the devastation that only years of growing up in the fighting pits could glean.

“Tig! Where are you, you sump rat!”

“Right here boss!”

The Goliath leader turned to face his second in time to see him dragging a massive chain linking four survivors by their necks.

“I think you’re going to like this batch, boss. One in particular shows promise.”

Gorthump sized up the men. He was about to berate his subordinate for bothering him with such pitiful examples of weakness when his eyes fell upon the last in line, a small metal pendant hanging by a chain around his neck.

“What is this Tig? A Guilder?”

“Better boss. This here’s the son of a Guilder.”

“Ya did good Tig, real good.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The echo of the gun shot waned as the body of the messenger slumped to floor, the foot twitching one more time as it continued to receive uncontrolled nerve impulses.

The body guard slowly lowered the gun as the Guilder spat on the corpse. “Let that be a lesson to you. Never preface your message with ‘please don’t shoot the messenger”, the obviously obese man said with contempt.

“Thank you Rieson”, he said turning to the man now holstering his stub gun, his guilders badge swaying as he shifted his weight to turn. “Activate my contract with that house down in Hive City. The day I pay ransom to some gutter scum from below the wall will be the day I lose my seat with the Guild.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Ghoulman walked into the barracks bay allotted for his two teams liked he belonged. Few looked up, the rest just ignored the Lieutenant. What did he know about running these special operations? He was hardly older than a juvie. Even his lone stubber in its underarm holster looked like it hadn’t even been taken out to be oiled. His face showed no signs of any facial hair and his eyes still shone brightly, not hardened by years of seeing what life was really like this close to the Underhive.

“Alright, listen up!” the kid called out. “We’ve got an op in just six hours and we’re up for rotation.”

The struggle to decide if the kid should just be ignored or if they responded – if they could conceal their contempt for their assigned officer.

“I want weapons issued and equipment prepped in three hours. Personal gear for this op is not authorized so I do not want to see any in the briefing room.”

“What’s the op”, an obviously older man from the rear of the room called out.

“You will learn that in the briefing. Now you have your orders. Suit up.” With that the kid turned on his heals and walked out.

“Why is it we get to baby sit some elder’s kid when Devon here paid his dues? “

“Shut up Suez. We’ve all got to tag along on this trip and we don’t need your mouth running the whole time.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The fifteen men climbed the spiral stair case leading up to an ancient cargo container stacked in some long forgotten age. To a man they carried their assigned weapons and kit. While they waited they all checked the chem counters on their body suits. House Van Saar took pride in their appearance and equipment. And teams such as this were highly lucrative. Essentially teams of mercenaries usually hired by the guild to escort caravans through out hive city, or even down into the Underhive. Teams such as Ghoulman’s Ghosts (officially designated as Team Yang) were given the luxury of the latest body suits, and an extra heavy weapons team. Despite the team being led by a raw Lieutenant – and thus their new name – they had been bumped to the top of the rotational order.

“Finally,” the kid as he was now actively being called addressed the gang. “Quiet down.” A few of the more veteran members veiled their displeasure in continued coughing, but despite this the kid continued on. “Alright, we are next on the rotation and will be moving down hive. Our mission is to either rescue the son of a guilder from a local band from House Goliath known as the “Band of Iron”, or bring back his body and the heads of his captors.”

The murmuring picked up some, but with no direct questions Ghoulman continued on. “The kid,” this caused more than a few chuckles from those assembled. Looking around trying to discern the humor the Lieutenant continued. “As I was saying, the kid was taken prisoner by the Band of Iron about two day cycles ago. A note has been delivered with a ransom demand, however Guilder Truvail has decided it is not in his best interest to pay it. Rather he wishes to send a message to such vermin that he is not to be so annoyed again. We will be hitting the Goliaths during the night cycle after next. Guilder Truvail was explicit in his instructions. There is to be one survivor, and only one. This is for the lucky mutant to share the tail of his retribution.”

Ghoulman scanned the assembled men for any form of reaction but by this point they were all business. “Alright then. We move out in twenty minutes.”

No questions about their route of march, no inspections of equipment. More than one man thought they had gotten over on their new leader. Little did they know that these discretions were to bite them in their ass before it was all over.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

“Beta section sound off damn it!” Ghoulman was remarkably calm for his first actual combat. The raid had kicked off without a single hitch to the surprise of more than most of his team. But in the last fifteen minutes things had began to get a little thick. Alpha section had reported two men down, and Beta was reporting a loss of four. Still the perimeter was holding against the Goliaths counter attacks, and the brutes guarding the pens where they kept their prisoners had just been taken down.

“Sir, we’ve freed three prisoners. One Esher female,” the rest of the communication became garbled as the woman loudly protested the reference. “Excuse me sir. One woman and two men, one is the guilder’s son.”

“Very good, escort them to pit here on the main level. Alpha, how’s the perimeter holding up?”

“Sir, we have great fields of fire and the Goliaths have pulled back for now.”

“Very well.” Ghoulman smiled. This was going almost too well. He might be able to pull a bonus out of this one.

Tix opened up a small hatch in the corner and escorted the three to his Lieutenant. “Good work Tix, I need your men positioned for an assault to clear a way through. The Goliaths have apparently spent their energies attempting to regain their little sty here. It shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Tix shifted his weight. He seemed poised to broach some sort of forbidden subject and then shook his head and motioned for his team to get into position.

“What is it Tix? We don’t have all cycle here.”

Tix signaled for his section to move out without him and returned. “Well sir. We didn’t want to leave our wounded behind. I doubt these monsters will treat them much better than these here” he said nodding his head in the direction of the freed prisoners.

Ghoulman thought it over. He could hardly spare the fire power and obvious impact on his team’s mobility… but if he ordered them left behind he might never gain the trust if his men. “Very well. Have those that are helping the wounded hand off their ammunition.”

As his section moved on Ghoulman turned to the captives, “can you all fight?” The two men had been worked over. The guilder’s son just shook his head, while the other man clutched a mangled hand.

“Pathetic,” the woman said shaking her head. Reaching down to pick up an autogun from an obviously dead Van Saar she looked the kid in the eye. “Let’s just get out of here.”

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

Ghoulman peered through the dim light across the dunes. This was where the guilder had arranged to pick up his son, but nothing was moving. It had been a full three shift cycles since he received confirmation of the exchange site but there had been no sign of the guilder’s retinue – until now. The din of the approaching caravan wafted across the wasteland even before the glow of their lanterns could be seen.

“We wait until they reach the middle of the dome,” the young lieutenant whispered to no one in particular.

Once the guilder was in place Ghoulman left his two heavies and their assistants in position and brought his team out into the open. Once the two parties were only ten meters apart he brought them to a halt.

“Guilder Truvail! I believe we have something of yours here,” Ghoulman called out.

“He had best be in good condition Van Saar!,” came the reply.

With that Ghoulman stepped out with his prize beside him. A pair of Van Saar turned bounty hunters stepped form the far crowd. Between them they carried a small chest with one hand, their free one resting upon the hilts of nicely crafted pistols of some sort. The ‘Kid’ let his eyes rest on those pistols for a half second and when he returned to the bounty hunters faces smiles greeted him.

“Alright th…” CRACK! Just as Ghoulman released his hold on the package the sonic boom of a large bore rifle resonated off the walls and ceiling of the dome. The warriors from both parties instinctively flinched and sought out cover. The sound of las weapons charging and slug weapons cocking quickly drowned out further echoes and made further isolation of the sniper’s location.

The guilder’s son fell face down where he once stood. He head bouncing once as neither of his hands moved to break his fall.

“What the hell just happened?!?” Ghoulman called into his comm.-link. “Don’t know for sure L.T. but the shot came from the 2 o’clock position. About thirty meters behind the guilder’s caravan.”

“Liam!” Cried the rotund guilder. “What have you done to my son you butchers!”

Ghoulman stood up and pointed in the direction his team had indicated and drew his pistol. As he looked back to call his team forward the bounty hunters let loose a pair of hurried shots. Fortunately for the Van Saar ‘Kid’ both sailed wide, but the effect caused him to hit the dirt once more.

“What the fek! What do you think you’re doing!”

“You bastards won’t get away with betraying me like this!”

And the incoming fire grew in intensity. The two heavy stubbers left behind began to bark in response.

“Stop shooting you idiots! You want to get us outlawed!?!”

Then the incoming fire inched closer and closer to the now prone Van Saar team leader.

“Uh, sir. I don’t think they want to negotiate. They obviously believe we’re responsible…”

“Fek!” was all the ‘Kid’ could muster. He tried repeatedly to convince the guilder and his band that they were innocent but once the scummer bounded over the dune lip and tried to take his head off Ghoulman realized that he had best salvage the situation and get his team out of the area. By some miracle he managed to get clear of the dune wastes without further loss. But when he tried to return home his team was met at the edge of hive city.

It was made clear that the little ‘misunderstanding’ with Guilder Truvail had forced the house guild masters to rescind their mercenary charter. What’s more, they were considered outlaws. Only the intervention of the house leaders prevented them from being charged with killing a guilder – technically the kid was not a guilder and thus they were sparred permanent banishment. But it was unlikely they would ever be allowed to set foot back in hive city.

And thus Ghoulman and his band of Van Saar, Ghoulman's Ghosts begin their crusade to clear their names.

Head Hunt

a second chapter to the 'Enforcer' charecter...

-=-=-=-

“It’s time to move out! This is getting to be a bad habit Enforcer Fist – having to wake you up whenever something needs to be done.”

Fist peered through the fogginess of his sleep deprived mind and eyes. Sergeant Taylor stood at the foot of his bed just inside the doorway of his room, he was in full kit. “I’m up sarge,” he said as his feet met the cold tiled floor.

“We’ve got a lead on some Goliath troublemakers and I want to move before they catch wind of our intentions. Be in the briefing room in 10 minutes,” and with that Sergeant Taylor headed on down the hall banging on a couple more barracks doors as he went. Fist glanced over at his chronometer. 0343 – still pre day-cycle, ugh.

-=-=-=-

Once outside of the compound the dome light levels still had not been brightened to signal the start of the day-cycle and Fist could barely make out the outlines of his fellow patrol members. Silver was the easiest to ID as he carried the Heavy Stubber for the group, but Corporal Giant was harder. Unless he turned to face you it was virtually impossible to make out the slight blue glow emitted from his suppression shield, but differentiating between Sergeant Taylor and Alpha was another matter. Both were equipped identically with bolt pistols holstered. But K9.0 was another matter. Anyone who’s heard the gyros of a kill-dog revving up for an attack cannot help but know what is near – even in near perfect darkness.

“Fist, on me,” called out Sergeant Taylor. “Once we enter the Goliath compound you’re to stay close to me and Corporal Giant here.”

“We must move swiftly Sergeant.” At first Fist thought the almost inaudible whisper came from the Corporal, but when he had turned his head to peer into the darkness as well, he pulled his shotgun up and to the ready. Sergeant Taylor put his hand gently, but firmly, on top of the shotgun and pushed it down. “We must go now,” the whisper called out again.
“Alright lead on, but know that any treachery will be dealt with swift retribution,” the Sergeant replied in a whisper. There was no visible reaction from the vague outline of the down-hiver, and they moved on into the inky darkness.

-=-=-=-

The glow-lights slowly had begun to illuminate as they closed in on their target. Just short of a small tunnel through a pile of debris Sergeant Taylor called the patrol to a halt. Without a word he indicated that Alpha and his kill-dog were to patrol the area and prevent the patrol from being ambushed from behind. The rest were signaled to follow him through the tunnel.

It was only about fifty meters to the far side. It opened up into a cluttered dome that had obviously seen a partial collapse. The roof was only ten to twenty meters above their head, and many structures that had once soared up into the air, now lay ruined on their side making it very difficult to traverse very far without having to climb over, under, or around some sort of barricade. Before they were aware of it they were practically on top of Ripper. Only forty meters away, but behind several stacks of crates, he was alone.

Sergeant Taylor signaled Silver to take the left flank with his Heavy Stubber. Fist was to follow him and Corporal Giant underneath a lone remaining walkway connecting to the building their target was in. The trio had made it halfway towards their prey from the tunnel when it became apparent that their arrival had been anticipated.

“I wondered when Lord Helmawr’s lackeys would arrive. You are just in time for our morning target practice,” and with that Ripper whistled out and ducked behind some crates. Immediately a Goliath heavy stepped from the far shadows and let loose with a flurry of rounds from his heavy stubber, Thud, thud, thud Silver dropped with several impacts across his Carapace armor. Although he was stirring there was a lot of blood coming from a nasty wound to the left side of his face. Sergeant Taylor paid him no mind and pushed Fist and Corporal Giant forward. “We are here to get that scumbag,” was all the sergeant said as he motioned in Ripper’s direction.

The trio moved forward using an overhead gantry as a shield from the enemy Heavy Stubber, but the side effect was that it also blocked their view of Ripper’s perch. “Come on now. Helmawr’s finest, hiding like sump spiders! What will the boys back at the precinct house say,” came a taunt from the shadows above. Sergeant Taylor halted the group and as he looked up into the darkness above autogun fire thudded into the crates on their right causing all of them to flinch. The incoming fire caused Corporal Giant to pivot and place his shield between himself and the new threat. Fist moved back into a pile of barrels and discarded industrial debris for more protection and Sergeant Taylor began to return fire with his Bolt Pistol. “Fist, keep moving and deliver our message!”

Thwip, thwip, thud, thwang! The Goliath Heavy found his range and angle once more. For now Fist was being ignored as all of the incoming fire was directed at the Sergeant and the Corporal keeping them pinned in place. Fist had to crawl under and through the debris he found himself in and as he cleared the other side he could clearly make out the form of the Massive Goliath standing boldly on a walkway just short of the dome ceiling. His form bathed in light in time with the staccato of his heavy stubber. Thwing, twang, thud, thud, *grunt* Fist heard one of his companions groan under at least one impact from the machine gun zeroing in on their position.

Without waiting to discern the effect it had on his fellow Enforcer Fist switched the selector switch on his combat shot gun to slug and took time to ensure he was aiming center mass of the Goliath currently raining death on his companions. BOOM! was the report from his shotgun. It was not clear if his round had found its mark, but the effect was the immediate silencing of the enemy’s weapon. Pwoom! a bolter round impacted against a barrel adjacent to Fist’s face. Fortunately the round penetrated the drum and exploded on the interior causing the lid to blow a good fifteen meters in the air.

Without hesitation Fist pivoted to his right and took aim in the general direction his peripheral vision had caught a flash. Switching the selector to ‘special’, BOOM! he let fly a round specializing on hunting out entrenched foes.

“Hungh!,” came the reply from the shadows above. Fist was about to mount the ladder leading up to the concealed perch when the Goliath Heavy Stubber began to bark again, this time directed towards him. Thwang, thupp, thupp, thwip

Sergeant Taylor called him back.

“Nice work Fist. You get to keep your job for another day. Let’s pull back and check on Silver.” And then he addressed the shadows, “What’s the matter Ripper! Got nothing left to say?!?” But only silence greeted them.

“Aaaaaagh!” came a cry from the right and as a youthful looking Goliath came into the shadowy light. Sergeant Taylor calmly leveled his bolt pistol and squeezed off several rounds, Crack, Crack! finding their mark neatly in his chest knocking him back off his feet. The message was clear and he didn’t get back up.
The rest of the Goliaths kept their distance and could not put effectual fire on the Enforcers line of retreat. Silver was still moving around and groaning on the floor, but clutching his heavy stubber. Now that he was closer Fist could see that there was severe damage to the heavy’s face. It looked to him that most of the flash, and probably some bone was missing from his left cheek bone on down to his jaw line. The medics would have to piece together and replace most of the side of his face, but other than that it looked like he would live.

Introductions

Josam took a moment amid the teaming shanty market and closed his eyes. He allowed his other senses to take in the sensations of being out from under the hive again. The heat from the hive factories created an ever present breeze coming off the wastes, and today it was almost refreshing. The breeze and the sensation of empty space all around brought a calmness he could almost taste.

As he opened his eyes he realized that Urartu and the rest of his fellow nomads didn’t bother to wait for him. They had moved across the market and were negotiating with a local weapons dealer who had several firearms on display. Of particular interest to the group was a heavy machine gun.

“Your prices are insane!” Urartu spewed, his voicing carrying over the crowed. No one cared. Such outbursts were common place on market days. “Come on. This piece of Goliath slag can’t be worth more than 80 credits.”

“I can see that you have an eye for quality my friend,” the obviously over weight guilder said, his breathing labored beneath his respirator. “Now here is a fine specimen. Quality such as only House Van Saar can produce. This little toy can sustain 600 rounds per minute, ammunition is contained in interchangeable magazines containing 200 rounds each, no need to maintain those clumsy ammunition belts – ideal for the conditions you and your fellows deal with here in the wastes. The barrel is air cooled and of the highest quality, an integral bipod for a stable firing platform, and a mount for any number of optical sights – for a slightly higher fee of course. I will even throw in this harness for ease of movement.”

Josam could see that the guilder was pushing as hard as he might to get Urartu to bite. Ishik whispered something in the leader’s ear, and the negotiations began in earnest.

“Hello again my sniper friend.” Josam turned and saw the slim guilder who sold him his visor not three day cycles ago. “I trust your little… endeavor was profitable.”

“We were moderately successful, yes. And have you passed along my message to your ‘friends’, that they have recruited themselves a sniper?”

“Of course, of course, come along and we can meet them now if you wish.”

Josam looked back towards Urartu, “in a minute. I’ll meet you at your stall in fifteen minutes.” Glancing back to the guilder to make eye contact, he moved to meet up with his compatriots.

“Now who is offering up pieces of slag in trade?” The guilder said looking over Ishik’s lasgun. “Twelve credits, not a pinch more.”

“Done,“ Urartu replied reaching down and picking up the Van Saar heavy stubber. Ishik reached under his trench coat and produced the group’s money pouch. “Shuvah, pick up that ammo crate.”

“Hey Boss, I need to see a man about some archeo. Can you spare me for a time?”

Urartu turned and looked Josam in the eyes. Glancing down at his chest Urartu thought for a moment. “Very well, we’ll be around till the next shift cycle. If you you’re not back by then, we’ll be at the old stompin’ grounds.”

“I’ll meet you there then.” And with that Josam turned to leave. As the other Nomads moved off Urartu called after him.

“Forgot something, wait up,” He called after him. “You’re not getting any ideas of leaving the ‘Soldiers’, are you?”

Josam turned around. “No boss. I just want to take care of some personal business. When I was half dead out there, you took me in, I’m not going to strike out on my own, at least not without telling you first. I’ll see you in a day cycle or two.”

“Keep your head down and your eyes open Josam.”

Without turning to look back Josam replied, “will do boss.”

The rest of the way to the guilder’s stall Josam focused his thoughts on the next few hours. Since Urartu took him in the nomads had been his constant companions. Even though that was the reason he had set out from Sulfur Falls, it felt good to be among the shanties again. Even so, the nomads had given him a sense of purpose, a part of a family. When Urartu had entrusted him to be his clan’s sniper he had swelled with pride. In a sense Urartu was saying that he trusted him to watch his new family’s back, and he had never let them down. So what was he doing now?

‘Those who follow me are my brothers and sister.’

Josam slowed his pace and looked around. There was no one near him. No one was even looking in his direction. ‘But Urartu has been like a father to me,’ Josam replied to himself.

‘Once you have entered into my family I will never forsake you.’

‘Who… or what, are you?’

‘I am the one who knows you better than you know yourself.’

Josam grunted to himself. ‘I can’t believe I am having a conversation with myself.’


As he approached the guilder’s small tent he paused, looked around as if to see if anyone else had heard the conversation, shook his head and stepped inside.

“Sniper, this is Dirke of house Van Saar,” the Guilder said as Josam’s visor quickly adjusted to the new light levels within the tent. The man that the guilder had introduced him to stood a hand taller then him, carried a bolt pistol upon his left hip and a hefty war hammer hanging from his right. He was obviously a hive dweller as he sported a thick patch of hair on his chin and around his mouth. Instead of a respirator he wore a set of nose plugs connected to a canister on his back. Ignoring the man’s extended hand Josam met his eyes and nodded a greeting.

“The name’s Josam. I am from house Catallus,” Josam paused for this to sink in, and the man slowly lowered his hand never disengaging his eyes. “The guilder here…”

“Since we are introducing one another, I am Guilder Zendo,” the slim man interrupted.

“Zendo here tells me you are searching for the services of a sniper.”

“Indeed I am. My team has been sent to hunt down and eliminate, by any means necessary, a certain Delaque spy that goes by the name of Urai. He has been known to haunt the fringes of the hive alongside the exterior walls. As such it is difficult to approach his gang’s known haunts, and we have been tasked for stealth. Zendo here tells me you are known for your ability to reach out and touch people with that long rifle of yours.”

Josam glanced at the guilder who allowed a brief grin crease his face. “He’s too kind, but I can indeed take care of this issue for you. Zendo tells me my pay is to be some tech.”

“Has he?” It was now Dirke’s turn to glance at the guilder. Well, we can meet that; however, I first want to see you in action. If your skills match your reputation, then we can work out the specifics.”

There was something that struck Josam wrong about that last sentence. Too much left to interpretation. And not from his point of view either. “Well, you won’t be disappointed.” Josam re-engaged the man’s eyes. ‘And you best not cross me, lest my crosshairs seek you out.’

The Hunted

Josam had never witnessed anyone dry heaving without making a sound, but there was Ishik double over on his hands and knees. When the latest round of spasms subsided and the “Ghost Soldiers” specialists could breath again Josam crouched down next to him.

“You think you can make the raid?” He asked ensuring not to lose his balance so close to the sick man.

“Sure… sure, I ca…” and he doubled over again with spasms threatening to bring his toes up through his nostrils.

Josam stood up, rifle cradled in his arms. “We’re too close, and we can’t wait any longer. Ishik, you stay here amongst the shadows and keep low. We won’t be long.”

Ishik nodded his head feebly and managed to get back into a seated position where he then placed his stub pistol in his lap.

Josam signaled for the others to move out. Without another look back the nomads prepared themselves for the task at hand. As he walked away he silently admired the fact that Ishik, despite his obvious discomfort, was able to keep quiet and ensure the nomads kept the initiative.

Without another word between them An-Nur took Shuvah the juve with him. The plan was for the pair to make their way across the ruined industrial zone and free their leader, Urartu. He had made it easy for them to track him through the twisted tunnels and alleyways that his captors had dragged him so the tall gantry where their new found enemy had put him was easy to pick out. It was Josam’s job to cover their advance and take out any guards that noticed them.

As Josam settled into his hide he adjusted his scope out of habit. The ranges that he would be engaging his targets here within the hive were much shorter than he was used to out amongst the wastes of Necromunda. Scanning his surroundings his visor picked up the heat signatures of only three sentries, one of whom was practically right on top of Urartu. There was no way for him to signal the other two so he alternated his attention primarily on the other two.

An-Nur and Shuvah were half way across the floor of the dome when they stopped their slow advance. One of the guards was looking their way so Josam sighted in on the man. After a few breaths he turned and walked away and the nomads resumed their advance. Once the sentry had turned away the pair focused on something at their knee level briefly, then with some exaggerated movements continued on their way.

Without any more close calls An-Nur and Shuvah managed to get to the floor just below the last guard between them and their intended target. Shuvah did not wait for An-Nur to signal the assault and launched himself up the ladder and assailed the lone defender before An-Nur could follow.

The juve’s blows failed to land upon his intended victim. Instead the man began shouting at the top of his lungs that he was being attacked. An-Nur was upon him, and unlike Shuvah’s failed assault, he landed two hits, but failed to dispatch their opponent.

Josam wasted no time in focusing on the next nearest guard who was already taking aim in the direction of the combatants. ‘Relax, breath, squeeze’… the Long Rifle jumped as it launched its lethal projectile. The cross hairs settle right back on their target. The round impacted upon the arm just below his left shoulder and the man was down in obvious pain. ‘Frak, that should have been a kill shot,’ Josam thought to himself. Still, the hooded man was no longer a part of the equation that was playing out in the dome in front of him.

As Josam shifted his aim towards the one unengaged sentry he looked to see how things were progressing for An-Nur and the kid. The two men were working well together and the kid was obviously distracting their opponent and before Josam shifted his attention further An-Nur managed to impale the man’s leg with the double bladed knife in his left hand and quickly followed up with a one handed butt stroke of his Assault Rifle in his right. The cowl on the man’s head spun ninety degree throwing blood and spittle wide as he collapsed in a heap.

‘Well done,’ Josam thought to himself.

The sniper’s next target seemed to heed the alert of his last shot. As Josam sighted in on the lone remaining sentry his quarry had managed to get a tangle of pipes and conduits between himself and the sniper. ‘Patience’, he told himself.

Just then several of the sentry’s hooded companions, stirred by the alarm, began to approach from the left. With no clear line of sight to his intended target Josam shifted his position to gain a better angle at the reinforcements.

“Sniper! Atop the lifting platform!” The now concealed foe warned his companions.

One of the men stopped dead in his tracks to try and locate Josam’s hiding place. ‘Perfect’, he said as he smiled to himself. The report of his rifle almost startled him. When the scope returned to where his target should have been Josam saw him disappear off the edge of his line of site. Using the scope to track his new target he noticed a stain of blood on the man’s cowl. The round had apparently had done nothing more than graze him. ‘That should make him a tad more cautious.’

An-Nur, Shuvah, and the now freed Urartu had managed to get down to a gantry that spanned the distance of the factory floor. Although exposed it was the most direct route to make their escape. An-Nur stopped every so often to take aim at targets below.

“Move it!” Josam now shouted. ‘No need for silence now, they are aware of my location by now’, he thought to himself. “Get off that killzone!”

Shuvah and Urartu were moving at full tilt, all the while las-rounds and slug shells danced in the air around them. An-Nur either did not hear his call, or was ignoring him. He shouted something down at the approaching men and loosed another salvo from his rifle. Josam could see a smile appear on his face as he looked over the barrel of his weapon. Seemingly satisfied with the result of his last shot he took off at a run to follow his fellow nomads.

Josam sighted back in on their pursuers and let fly another shot in haste. Although wide it still had the desired result of causing them to think twice about stepping out into the open.

The three nomads were halfway across the gantry now. Seeing that their captive was about to make good his escape the remaining hooded men became emboldened and were stepping from their cover to get better shots as they fled.

‘Relax, breath, squeeze…’ Josam’s shot caught his target in full stride. As he settled the scope back on his new target he could tell he had hit him as he was now sprawled out on the factory floor. But it had not been a solid hit. Before he even stopped sliding he was up and running again, picking up his shotgun as he went.

Only twenty more meters and they could all just disappear back into the shadows and Emperor willing… ‘who do you call on in time of need!?’ That voice again. This time it totally un-nerved him.

“Who…, or wha.. what, are you?” he spoke out loud, looking around. Nothing, the voice did not speak out again.

“A little help here!” An-Nur called out.

Josam turned his attention back to the matter at hand. Several more men had darted out from their cover in pursuit. ‘Just shoot the closest one’, he thought to himself. They were close enough that the targets were now filling his x10 powered scope, their infrared signature well defined.

Josam’s last shot noticeably creased the shoulder of his latest victim causing him to drop to his knees and cease his pursuit. Seeing that his three compatriots had cleared the gantry and were beyond the reach of their pursuers Josam spun around and dropped down the nearest ladder to make good his escape.


An-Nur came up fuming. “You need to get your head out of your…”

“I had them where I wanted them. I can’t shoot them when they are cowering behind cover”, Josam interrupted.

“I don’t like being the bait just so you can put another notch on the stock of your long rifle Josam! Next time just keep ‘em pinned!”

Josam hesitated, trying to think of something to say. Instead he just nodded, “agreed, my apologies.”

‘It’s probably not a good idea to tell them I’m hearing voices in my head’, Josam said to himself.

With the distance gained from getting the high ground in their escape the “Ghost Soldiers” made good their escape, stopping only long enough to pick up Ishik on their way back out into the wastes.

The Hunters

“They went down and to the left,” Ishik called out from the front of the small band known as the ‘Ghost Soldiers’. Although he was not a Nomad from birth Ishik had learned quickly and although he was a former PDF soldier he had been accepted as one of their own.

As the men descended further into the hive Josam shifted his long rifle into a cradle like hold in his left arm. ‘Smooth, steady breathing, the hive is not slowly collapsing,’ he reminded himself.

A half kilometer more and the tunnel opened up into the bottom of a very deep artificial crevasse within the hive. Peering up Josam was amazed to see that he could not see the top as his vision was swallowed up by impenetrable darkness. As they paused for Ishik to pick up the trail of their quarry Josam felt a slight breeze cross his temple and he turned to peer in the direction of the source. ‘Is that…light?’ He asked himself. He lifted his respirator for a quick whiff of the draft. It smelled of the wastes, not the stale scent that had filled his nostrils these past few hours.

“We may have a breach down this way,” Josam offered to the others who were milling around.

Ishik looked up and nodded. “The trail moves off away from there. We’re probably only fifteen minutes behind them.”

“Then our path is obvious. The current priority is to free Urartu, but once we’ve done that I think he’ll be pleased to know that we’ve taken notice of a new access to the hive.” ‘And my own relief to get out from under this manmade mountain’ Josam added to himself as he motioned for the others to move out.

Turning the breeze to their back the four men continued to follow the track left behind as it followed the cavern until it turned into a hole not much bigger than the silhouette of a man. One by one the four men filed into the cramped passageway beyond. As they moved along it slowly grew in size and they all could detect sounds coming from ahead. Stopping to listen Ishik raised his hand for silence.

“Sounds like a shanty,” he said.

Josam thought to himself for a moment. “Well, I don’t think we’d be welcome there,” Josam said to no one in particular. “Ishik, I need you to move up ahead and see if we can get a look around without being spotted.”

An-Nur moved back ten meters the way they’d come to cover the rear. Shuvah moved to the deeper shadows and sat down with his back to the wall and avoided Josam’s gaze. ‘Odd, no one has questioned my assuming command in Urartu’s absence. That will change real quick if I make a mistake here.’ Josam kept his eyes fixed on the juve. “Let me see your stubber kid.”

The look Shuvah gave Josam was filled with distrust and some fear. “What do you want with it?”

“Take it easy, I just want to look at it.”

Slowly the juve reached across and withdrew the semi-automatic pistol from its holster under his left arm, neither looked aside from the other’s eyes. Spinning it around in his hand Shuvah offered it grip first. Reaching for the offered weapon he noticed the kid’s other hand had instinctively moved to the pommel of his knife. ‘Good, the kid’s got some sense of self preservation’

“Look, I’m not holding you responsible for these hive maggots walking off with Urartu. I just don’t take to new people real quick, and I was looking forward to some down time back in ‘Hive’s End’. What made you want to hook up with us in the first place?”

“My uncle’s raised me since I was nine. Apparently he owed Urartu some money and some kind of deal was struck. I came willingly cause I was glad to get out of that shanty. Besides, Urartu paid for that pistol so it was like a signing bonus.”

Josam just ran his hands over the metal as he continued to study the juve. Eventually the kid broke the link and looked off towards the sounds ahead. Moving it to his left hand he offered the pistol back to the kids, grip first. As Shuvah grabbed the pistol and started to pull on it Josam’s right hand flew never letting go of the pistol. In the blink of an eye Josam’s sword was against the side of Shuvah’s neck. “But the next time I see you run from a fight I will take it upon myself personally to make things right. We nomads have nothing but ourselves to rely on. If we can’t trust one another to be there in the thick of things, then we best make new friends. You get me?”

Shuvah kept a tight grip on the pistol and returned Josam’s gaze. “You can count on me.” Was all the kids said. Josam held the pistol for another moment and then gently released his grip, as he did so he withdrew his sword leaving a slight cut in the skin. Josam stepped back a step, nodded and turned to look for Ishik.

“They’re up there alright. Five of them are camped out at the end of this tunnel. Urartu’s with them,” Ishik said as he returned.

“Can we take them?” An-Nur asked as he pulled in to the others.

“No, they’ve got the approached pretty well covered with a heavy stubber. We’d cap maybe two before that thing ranged in on us. Even with your long gun Josam,” he nodded towards Josam. “They’ve got the reach on the rest of us.”

Josam stood thinking to himself. Not a good situation. Even though Urartu was the leader of this band he could not make himself think that it would be anything other than foolish to sacrifice the rest of them just to free him. “Do you think they’ll come back this way when they’ve taken care of whatever business they’ve come for?”

“I can’t be sure, but it looks that way to me,” Ishik replied.

“Come on,” Josam turned to head back the way they had come. “I saw some sort of tracks back where we caught the sent of the wastes.”

Leaving An-Nur at the entrance to the tunnel the others went in search of food, and it did not take long. Draped across Ishik’s shoulders was some sort of six legged creature. The hide was tough, but it was otherwise easy to dress. In no time the four men were enjoying a hardier meal than they had enjoyed in a very long time.

After several hours, and two reconnaissance runs, Shuvah reported that he saw seven men approaching. The four Nomads deployed into the shadows to await their prey.

Several minutes later Josam saw two heads appear and without stepping into the clearing looked around. ‘Hold!’ Josam signaled the others. ‘Let’s see what these rats are up to first.’ He thought to himself. Just then the man with the heavy machinegun darted out into the open. The move had caught Josam by surprise and before he could get the crosshairs to settle on his target for a shot the man was behind several girders of a long abandoned building. ‘Frak!’ he cursed himself.

One by one the enemy darted across the clearing. All except the last man who had Urartu in tow. Josam followed this last pair with his scope. Urartu tugged at the ropes connecting him to his captor and the man in a hooded cowl responded with a kick to his abdomen. Urartu doubled over and dropped to his knees. As he kneeled there he was biting on something. The hooded man yanked on the ropes pulling Urartu to his feet and pushed him off in the direction the others had run. As they got to the edge of the clearing Urartu looked over his shoulder – right at Josam. The man shoved him into the shadows and they were gone.

Josam hesitated just a minute before he left his hide to pick up the pursuit once more. The four nomads converged on the spot where Urartu has been knocked down. At their feet lay a small scrap of bloody cloth. Looking up in the direction they had moved out each man could see fresh drops of blood.

“Looks like our boss has given us something to follow,” Josam said.

Without another word they moved off after their boss.

Josam didn’t bother to keep mental notes of the trail. Urartu’s blood would serve as a marker to return along. After another hour of cat and mouse the trail opened up into another open area. The scent of cook fires wafted down as they approached.

“Looks like they intend to bed down here for the night. We’ll wait here until they doze off. Then we’ll spring Urartu.” And with that each man pulled back into the shadows to await their opportunity.

Archeo

‘There it is again.’ Josam thought to himself. He was sure he could see and hear the weight of the hive above him causing the walls around him to fatigue and slowly buckle. Although this was his third foray into the massive structure known as Hive: Primus, he had not gotten used to the sensations of being totally encased within it. As they continued to move further within the massive structure the comforting cries of the ash storm outside became nothing but a memory.

The ‘Ghost Soldiers’ were in a single file navigating what had once been a heavy transit tube. The single guide rail traced a perfect path its length on out of sight.

“Here it is,” Urartu called back to his men. “We take this service tunnel up fifty meters until it reaches an access door. Once we reach that level we should be within reach of our goal.”

“Which is what exactly,” An-Nur called from the end of the line of men.

“Archeo if it makes any difference,” Urartu was becoming visibly agitated. “Listen, unless one of you feels man enough to challenge me for leadership of this group say so now and we can take care of business, if not then shut your trap.”

No ones else spoke up, but Josam silently agreed to An-Nur’s question. Nomads roamed the wastes of Necromunda for a reason. They each knew that the real treasures lay out beyond these walls, not among those that chose to dwell one on top of the other. The “skull”, now that contained some archeotech!

Silently the five men climbed through the trap door to something resembling an alley way. Between two walls of undetermined purpose they spread out, Urartu giving directions with just hand and arm signals. Once he was satisfied Urartu brought Ishik up and the two of them used krak grenades to breach one wall.

‘So much for stealth,’ Josam thought to himself.

Beyond the wall was a massive warehouse with huge lifters and an array of structures and crates splayed apparently without rhyme or reason. Urartu gave Josam a signal that he wanted him to climb to the top of a nearby control tower. Urartu then sent An-Nur and Ishik around the same building to the right while he took Shuvah with him around to the left.

When Josam reached the top he could tell that Urartu had once again picked him a prime sniper’s nest. Below him where a pair of bridges running at an odd angle away from the tower, one to his left and one to his right. On the one to his right he could see Ishik setting up to cover An-Nur’s advance. Below and to the left Urartu kept Shuvah close at hand. Apparently he did not trust the juve to cover him. Once he knew where all of his fellow nomads were, and where they would be moving, Josam set to his task.

His new visor was working perfectly. The integral power system used the movement of the wearer to constantly supply itself with energy, which it then used to generate slight highlights of heat differentials in the surrounding area. Almost everything was a uniform temperature, but the lenses also served as a general light intensification visor. Nothing that the scope on his long rifle didn’t already provide but it was nice to not have to keep his eyes exposed to the elements and still be able to scan the scene without limiting his field of vision.

A bright ‘wash’, an indication of something very hot, flared from his left peripheral vision and Josam snapped his head toward it. The scene was filled with cool blue outlines, but a doorway at the end of the bridge Urartu and Shuvah was on showed some yellow tint. Dropping his eye to the scope Josam estimated the range to be a mere fifty meters and adjusted his reticle appropriately.

As Urartu moved within ten meters of the doorway a man with some sort of cowl covering his head and face stepped into the doorway. Whatever he was carrying had a bright red heat source and without a further thought Josam let fly a round from his long rifle. No good, he had rushed his shot. But at least Urartu was now aware of the enemy near him.

Josam looked back to his right and saw movement in front of An-Nur and Ishik. There were several shapes moving in the shadows beyond, but no clear shots to take so he settled in and waited.

An-Nur and Ishik began taking advantage of cover as they moved forward. As they began to bound from a small stack of crates towards the corner of a small shack several of the shadows stepped into the clearing to try and take some shots.

Breath, relax, squeeze…

The rifle jumped slightly in his grip and he nestled it quickly back into his shoulder. Miss – Damn! That’s twice now.

Relax – the word in his head startled him. Josam knew it was not his own, and yet… it was somehow comforting. He looked around and muttered to himself, “It’s nothing…”

Looking back towards Ishik and An-Nur he could tell that they had things well in hand for the enemy was keeping their heads down, and at least one of them was down writhing in pain. Turning back to his left Shuvah was scampering back away from the bridge. With urgency screaming through his nerves Josam dropped his eye back to his scope and scanned the length of the bridge. Urartu was nowhere to be seen, but the man with the intense heat source was moving away from him. Josam dropped the crosshairs between a jumble of girders and as his target appeared he let fly another slug from his rifle. This time he found his mark. His target twitched and dropped to the deck just as another form moved past.

Immediately Josam tracked it as whatever it was disappeared behind yet another wall like bulkhead. He continued to pace the new target and began to squeeze the trigger. The timing was perfect. Just as the shadow form cleared the bulkhead the trigger initiated the charge and set another round down range.

Whatever his target was, it dropped something as it fell. But that was all he could tell because whatever it was had now disappeared behind several obstructions. Looking back to the right Ishik was motioning for him to come down.

It was a considerable chore to get back to the floor, but on the way he found Shuvah. Grabbing him like a disturbed parent might snatch up a child by the arm so Josam pulled the hapless juve along.

As they reached the others Josam shoved Shuvah, forcing him to stumble, towards the others. “This one abandoned Urartu,” he said with disgust. “Where is he now?”

“We thought he was with you,” Ishik said.

With glances quickly exchanged they each knew to they had to move quickly. “I saw a man moving over there,” Josam said as he motioned back into the shadows on the far end of the warehouse.

“Take this coward with you and check the bridge,” Josam told An-Nur.

“He’s just a kid Josam,” An-Nur said as he reached down to help him up.

“That’s no excuse. He left Urartu alone.”

“We’ll discuss this later. For now, I’ll take responsibility for him. Come on kid.”

Josam watched the pair move off. ‘He might be a kid, but he’s a liability until he gets his head out of…’

“Are you coming or you just going to stare of into space?”

Josam turned and headed off to where he lost saw his target. “Kids gonna get somebody killed if we’re not careful.”

“Maybe, but we need the help so try and show him the ropes instead of dumping on him all day long.”

Josam just grunted in response as he led Ishik into the area beyond. The area where the hooded men had disappeared in to was strewn with bits and pieces of broken machinery making it hard for the two men to move in silence and be ready should their enemy return. When they arrived at the place where Josam saw the guy fall the debris had been disturbed, and blood was splattered everywhere – a hit. Still, whoever it was managed to get away – with whatever it was they were carrying.

“He’s not back there,” An-Nur said. “We covered pretty much all of the ground between here and the bride.”

Josam looked at the kid. Shuvah looked down at the ground and shifted his weight. ‘He’s feeling guilty. Good. It should help give him an edge the next time.' Josam thought to himself.

“Come on, let’s get after them,” Ishik said.

“They’re not going far by the looks of this blood trail,” Josam retorted. “Besides, it’s archeo we came here for, and its archeo we’re going to get. If we rescue Urartu and make it out of here, he’s going to be pissed. I want something to show for our efforts in this tomb besides a few tick marks on the barrels of our guns.”

There was some hesitation in all of them, none of them completely sure which action to take. Ishik nodded, “but we better be quick. We shouldn’t give them too much more of a head start.”

Recruitment

The shanty town was alive with activity. Like inside the hives themselves, the activity around the base of the massive hives never ceased. Josam was always amazed at the tenacity of his fellow wasteland inhabitants. No matter how severe the chemical storms, no matter how sudden the acid streams appear to consume the unwary, the people who called the ash wastes of Necromunda home always survived – and it was like they were out to prove there was some sort of normalcy in how they conducted business. Guilders from within the hive to sell luxuries or just weapons, nomads to barter whatever treasures the wastes had given up, and even the shanty dwellers themselves to sell filtered water and food. As Josam passed by a small Guilder’s stall a visor caught his eye. Urartu had been generous in the sharing of their loot from their last foray into the hive itself, and Josam found himself with a few credits just itching to be spent.

“Hey Boss. I’ll catch up with you a little later.” Josam called after Urartu who was already disappearing into the crowd. Urartu just lifted his hand to acknowledge him without turning around. With a grunt to himself Josam turned back to the table that had caught his eye.

The stall was small, and the Guilder unusually slim. He had the usual accoutrements various weapons and ammunition, trinkets, but the visor stood out among the displays. It was a simple little thing, small ovals with padding to completely cover each eye, but something about it spoke to him.

“How much,” Josam asked turning to address the Guilder.

“Twenty guilder credits.”

He said that without blinking an eye, Josam thought to himself. “Well good luck with that. I tell you what, I’ll give you ten and we can call it a deal.”

“Done, but I would like to make you an offer in exchange for my generosity.” The guilder paused to gauge Josam’s reaction. Not detecting anything one way or the other he proceeded to tell him of another client “with connections” that could use the skills of a sniper, preferably an ‘outsider’ and one with a taste for tech.

Josam had to think about this one. “Would the payment be in guilders or in tech?” The guilder rubbed his chin briefly and inferred that he believed it to be in tech. “Then you can tell your friends that they have themselves a sniper. I’ll return in a day or two and we can work out the details.”

Slipping his new visor over his eyes he stepped back into the bustle of the street market. With his credits spent and no idea where Urartu had gotten himself off to he just wandered the market. There was nothing else that really drew his attention but it was somehow un-nerving – so many people all in one place. Granted even Nomads were known to pull together to weather out a storm, but he just wanted to be out among the wastes once more. Lately Urartu had been obsessed with the hive, always delving into the chambers within to search for archeotech. And it had been fruitful, especially the last trip. So much so that Urartu gave him guilder credits to spend anyway he felt like. But Urartu had also become more detached, less inclined to socialize with his men, and more obsessed with restoring his clan. Why should he tell Urartu about this guilder wanting to hire him for a job? Who knows, if things work out then he could strike out on his own and make a name for himself.

“Josam!” Urartu’s call broke through his reverie and Josam turned around to see his boss moving through the crowd.

“Come on, I’ve got a lead on some more archeo.”

Great, another trip into the hive. “But boss, I thought we’d get a night in town to rest up,” Josam replied.

“You’ll get plenty of rest when you’re dead – and out here in the wastes that shan’t be much longer. Say hello to Shuvah here. He seems hell-bent on joining up with us, who am I to say no.”

Great, another mouth to feed. “Better pull your own weight runt,” was all Josam offered up and the three of them headed back out into the wastes to gather up the rest of the ‘Ghost Soldiers’.

Scavanger Hunt

Josam saw Urartu motioned for his band of Nomads, known as “The Ghost Soldiers”, to move forward. This was their second foray into the tower now known as “Hives End” to the denizens of the Ash Wastes. Josam was getting that feeling in the pit of his stomach again. The one that made him feel like the whole hive was pressing in on him. He kept saying to himself, “It’s just not natural” over and over again. Now could it be? Man could not have been meant to live one on top of the other like insects.

This expedition had been going much better than their previous adventure. After penetrating the exterior of the fallen tower with their krak grenades they had ventured some 500 meters into the depths of the monster. No spider-like men to ambush them this time. As the men approached an area of collapsed machinery Urartu brought them on-line, but spread out. The stench of decaying flesh was prevalent but the area ahead also looked ripe for salvage.

Using only hand and arm signals Urartu told Josam to move up a cooling tower. Even from the floor from which he acknowledged his leader’s orders Josam could tell it should have a commanding view of the dome beyond, an ideal sniper’s nest for him and his long rifle.

Once he arrived atop the cooler he caught sight of Ishik making his way up another cooler about 20 meters on his left, and Urartu and An-Nur making their way forward on a walkway below. Josam no longer watched his fellow nomads. Instead he turned his attentions to the shadows around the area. He was not about to allow an enemy free access to his mates without him knowing about it first.

“Speak of the devil”, Josam said to himself. Several shadowy shapes were moving across the way. Taking his time to be sure he counted five human sized shapes dispersing among the debris and moving in their direction. He placed his eye to the small optical scope on his rifle to get a better picture of what might be moving their way.

Three of the targets moved to his left towards Urartu and An-Nur, the other two were almost directly opposite of his position. They were being cautious. Never leaving the shadows, but they were obviously alerted to the nomads in their midst.

“It’s always better to shoot first and ask questions later I’ve always said”, Josam whispered to himself as he tweaked the range on his scope and leveled the crosshairs on the shadow closest to him.

Inhale, exhale slowly until the pause, steady squeeze…

The report from the long rifle shattered the stillness of the dome and made several unseen creatures skittering for even deeper crevices. More importantly he heard his target call out in surprise and fall writhing to the floor. His companion, to his credit, did not bolt and run away. Instead he began to run, following the shadows, to get closer to his position, and probably return fire.

Several las-rounds hissed through the air as their new enemy tried to get the range. Return fire started pattering ineffectively around his perch. Josam ignored the incoming fire as he sighted in on his next target.

“Damn,” he said to himself as his target slipped behind a small warehouse.

Moving his reticle to cover the others he now noticed that they each were wearing some sort of body suit. One hefting a plasma pistol in his right hand was making his way across a bridge while his boys were covering him from the rear.

Inhale, exhale slowly until the pause, steady squeeze…

This time his shot careened off of the bridge mere inches from the man’s head, but it had the secondary affect of causing him to duck involuntarily. This gave Urartu the opportunity to get completely across the bridge.

Looking back towards his original target and his friend Josam saw that the fellow was still rolling around in pain. Peering into the darkness he saw the faint outline of his friend moving slowly forward. As he approached a slight clearing he stopped. Josam couldn’t tell what he was doing, but he sighted in on where he anticipated the man to move to.

Inhale, exhale slowly until the pause….

Sure enough the man darted into the open. He had picked a good spot too. He would only be exposed for a second at the more. More than enough time, squeeze…

The impact of the round from Josam’s long rifle caused the man’s torso to suddenly jerk up and back causing the legs to kick out in front of him. He landed partway through his flip on his neck and shoulders, and when the body came to a stop it didn’t move again.

With the immediate threat to his front neutralized Josam turned his attention back to the bridge. He no longer saw the man in the jumpsuit, but he did catch site of An-Nur running back across the bridge without Urartu. His scope brought out a lot of detail but it lacked illumination capabilities. There, under the lifting platform, he saw Urartu. He was gripping his right leg. He was in pain, but it didn’t look serious. His leader was pinned down by the enemy fire, but he should be safe where he sat.

Lifting and shifting his sight picture he followed the bridge to where it ended just above Urartu. There was his target. He was readying himself for a charge down the ladder to get at Urartu.

Inhale, exhale slowly until the pause, steady squeeze…

The round ricocheted off the ferocrete just in front of the man causing him to pull his head and shoulders back behind cover.

The return fire was waning so Josam lifted himself up a bit and could tell that the men in the bodysuits were pulling back. Even the man on the bridge seemed to have better thoughts. Watching them as they went, to make sure they didn’t change their mind, Josam let them slip back into the shadows beyond the dome.

Ishik and Josam stayed in their perches to cover An-Nur as he checked on Urartu. Urartu had pulled himself against a bulkhead and looked to be ok. Once An-Nur gave him a once over he looked up at the snipers and gave a nod. With that Ishik climbed down and helped An-Nur search through the rest of the dome. In several locations there were overturned cabinets and enough tools and other items of interest that they were going to be eating well tonight.

Josam was already enjoying the thought of getting back our from under this monstrosity.

Discovering the Lie

There was something about the cloud cover today. Light coming from the hive factories was refracting off of the chemicals in the air into a cascading rainbow affect. Adjusting his respirator Josam pulled his coat’s hood up and over his head. As beautiful as the colors were, they revealed that there was a higher than normal concentration of acidic material in the air, and unless he took extra precautions he and his equipment would begin to burn. Once he secured his head gear he wrapped his long rifle and archaic sword in a bundle of rags. If it weren’t for the fact that he had to scrounge for food he’d be safely tucked away in his shelter like most of the sane denizens of the Ash Wastes.

With the recent collapse of a tower off of Hive: Primus an ash storm whipped up that stripped away layers of wastes exposing things not seen in over a millennium, maybe more. Sometimes ancient tech will become accessible again after such storms, abandoned sections of the hive, an old transportation tube, or even a crashed stratoplane – all containing things long forgotten. With things looking bleak for his band, “The Ghost Soldiers”, now was the time to take full advantage of what might have been uncovered – before the ash wastes reclaims her secrets. Normally such discoveries called for going back for more of his fellow nomads to work as a team, but his clan had all been wiped out when the tower fell from above. Only he, An-Nur, Ishik, and their leader Urartu survived. And Urartu lay recovering from his wounds suffered during their first foray into the tower. Not good. Their supplies were gone and unless they found something to barter with, the wastes would claim them as well.

Not far from the new massive landmark, and close to the hive wall itself, Josam discovered an old transport tube. It had long since caved in, and there obviously no way to access the hive through it but, the section of tube leading out into the wastes remained intact.

Once inside the tube Josam slid into the shadows to allow his eyes to adjust and to listen for anything that may be living down here. Just because he was new to this cave didn’t mean that something else couldn’t call it home. Although he could not be certain there appeared to be a light emanating from somewhere in the distance. Once he had adjusted to his surroundings Josam headed for it.

Although he had seen florescent fungi the color of this light didn’t match, but it was also not bright enough to determine what was making it. After walking for over an hour the source of the light was found. Along the side of the tunnel an area had been carved out of the bedrock to facilitate a work yard. Old work vehicles, small tool sheds, and one larger facility. Jackpot! With all of the vehicle parts alone they could make a fortune. But it would not be wise to return to Urartu empty handed.

Looking around he opted to look through one of the small sheds a bit further back from the edge of the road. Outside there was what was left of a small flatbed truck, upturned on its roof. Its frame exposed in several parts and a lot of small arms holes in what was left. Between the truck and shed lay three mummified bodies. It was impossible to tell if they had been male or female, but they were all adult sized and no apparent mutations. How they died though was not a mystery. Josam knew what a wound from a shotgun looked like, and these wounds had been fatal and delivered at close range.

Inside laid two more bodies in a similar state as to those he had seen previously. These two lay in the middle of what must have been a workshop. Several large tools, still standing upright, were set up in a fashion on the right side, and on the left lay a neat pile of some kind of material that Josam had never seen before. His curiosity peeked he stepped over the two corpses to get a closer look. The material was stacked in long rows, and had a rough texture to it. It was not cold like metal, and they had some sort of ‘veins’ running the length of them. After some further thought he doubted that it would last very long and moved towards a small room he had seen as he crossed the workshop.

As he approached the doorway he saw five more of the mummies piled one on top of the other in various positions impeding access to the room. When he got up on the door he found one more. This one was sitting against the wall to the right and a large pole jutting out from its ribcage for about a meter.

Stepping over the pile of bodies Josam kept his eye on the last one. He felt drawn to it, almost like it was calling to him. If it was not for the spear sticking out of him it looked like he just fell asleep and never woke up. His left hand lay on top of the shaft of the spear, but not clutching it. Instead it held a small picture. Time had eroded the image so that details could not been made out, but there were three human shaped forms within. In his right hand he still held a data reader, about the size of couple of lasgun cells fastened together.

Josam’s eyes were drawn to the reader. What kind of coin would this fetch out in the market place? He reached down, and as he pulled it free from the dead man’s hands he glanced up into his face. He looked so peaceful.

When the corpse’s hand fell from the data display the small screen lit up. Compulsively he looked at it and read the last words that this man had ever seen…

He trains my hands for war, so that my arms can bend a bow of bronze. You have given me the shield of your salvation, and your gentleness made me great. You gave a wide place for my steps under me, and my feet did not slip; I pursued my enemies and destroyed them, and did not turn back until they were consumed. I consumed them; I thrust them through, so that they did not rise; they fell under my feet. For you equipped me with strength for the battle; you made those who rise against me sink under me. You made my enemies turn their backs to me, those who hated me, and I destroyed them.

“Humph, it doesn’t look like your enemies were destroyed to me. It looks like you were the one being destroyed.” He said aloud to no one.

Once he secured the data reader in his pack he returned to the overturned truck. With out tools he was only able to procure a few broken pieces from the engine. He wanted to use them as evidence when he returned.
With those few trinkets he headed back to the surface and his fellow nomads.

Establishing Oneself

Urai led the survivors of his hit team further into the factory dome. The devestation was fairly widespread, and it was obvious that the factory would not be of much use for a very long time. As his team came into a packaging area he recognized it to be a good ambush area and dispirsed his team so that no more than any one man could be taken out at a time. He wanted to get back to the hive and find out what had happened, and that would be made harder should he lose anyone else on his team.

As Bulger cleared a small pile of debris he caught site of a man with a hood over his head and carrying a very sinister looking flamer in his hands. Before he even thought about letting Urai know about it he brought up his shotgun and let fly a scatter shot – with no visible affect.

Urai and the rest of the Delaque immediately responded by moving into covering positions. Urai took Smog with him and quickly climbed up to a bridge to get a better angle on the developing battlefield. As he cleared the center of the small bridge two more of the cowled enemy appeared on a bridge slightly higher than his and they opened fire. One round coming close enough for Urai to flinch involuntarily.

Smog dashed past him to get into cover among the girders at the end. As he reached his new barricade he dropped the nozel to his flamer across the debris and let fly a jet of flaming gel. Although the smoke obscurred his view Urai had noticed the two Cawdor gangers stop their rush across their bridge. Using this temporary concealment Urai managed to get clear of the bridge next to Smog.

“Good work. Get up higher. I’ll cover you from here,” Urai told Smog as he slapped him on his shoulder.

Smog took an adjacent ladder while Urai sighted in on the bridge. The Cawdor also had used the smoke to their advantage and had made it to the far side of a connecting catwalk and were preparing to cross when they used a flamer of their own to spew forth some more smoke. Not wanting to wait until his enemies had cleared this new cloud Urai opened up spraying the area with his bolt gun. Miniature explosive missiles sailed into the darkness and could be heared impacting against both metal and flesh. Screams could be heard in the distance and the opposing flame thrower also ceased to be a hinderance.

Now that the area immediately around Urai had settled down he could hear yet more gunfire. A mixture of assault rifle, shotgun, and las rounds shattering the quiet. Smog sent another stream of flamming fuel from up above out across the catwalks in front of Urai. The temporary light source revealed that one of Cawdors had taken a header and lay motionless some 20 meters below. Shouts of retreat could be heard and the hooded fanatics began to slip into the darkness.

“Hey Boss! You might wanna get down here!”

Urai couldn’t tell who was yelling to him, but it came from somewhere below. Smog dropped down beside him and they took turns covering each other as they made their way to the dome floor. By the time they got their the prone Cawdor he had seen just a minute ago was gone.

“Over here,” Snake yelled from their left.

As they approached Snake was kneeling over what had been Grissom. His body had been impacted several times, but it was the hole in his right temple that told the final outcome.

“Leave him. We can’t be weighed down with dead weight right now – no pun intended.” Urai said as he turned to leave. He glanced down and noticed that the autogun Grissom had carried had at least sheilded its owned from several rounds before he fell.

His job of gettng his team home just got a whole lot harder.

Home Turf

Illy risked a glance over the low girder wall. What arrogance! “Those Van Saar boys actually think they can stroll right on into her turf!” She thought to her self. Glancing at Eve she made a sign to wait until they were in the open.

Shifting her feet Illy tried to see where the rest of her “Harlequins” had taken up their postitions. Yona and Dona, twins, had taken up a good hide position on a bridge a little bit further down. Prima was nowhere to be seen, but knowing her she was on ground level ready to swoop right in for a kill or two of her own.

Glancing back down their targets were just getting into the killzone Illy had picked out. Eve was already sighting down the barrel of her plasm gun. Illy tapped Eve on the shoulder and she slowly stood up to get a better angle on the Van Saar gangers below.

Eve let loose a full burst from her gun sending shots of super charged plasma into the gangers below. Before the Van Saar leader could even react two of his men were down and screaming.

Yona and Dona added their own automatic rifle fire from the bridge and the Van Saar began to try and return fire. But it was too late. Shouting to his men to pull back Illy signaled her girls to cease fire.

“Thanks for the dance boys,” Illy shouted. “Come on back anytime you want to play with the Harlequins again!”