"Return to Katabatic"

I stole the basis of this scene from a book. Oed and I had talked about this and just COULDN'T pass it up!

Enjoy~!

Tonk anyone? Smear maybe? These were the two card games most played by Dragonwolves Team Unit Three. This time, it was tonk…

Oed flipped a card into the discard pile. He muttered “Somebody’s sandbagging.”

Racewiz snapped the card up, spread four princes and discarded a queen. He grinned that grin that told the others he was going down next round, holding nothing heavier than a deuce. Hissing, Oed smacked the tabletop. He hadn’t won a hand yet.

Ignoring Racewiz’s discard, with his cards scrunched just inches from his face, Schrike warned, “Go low, guys,”. He drew, looked at his card and his eyebrows raised. With a comical grin, he jerked his head from side to side, dropped three fours on the table then discarded a deuce. He taped his remaining pair and grinned at Racewiz, said, “That better be an ace, Bucko.”

Praetor-Vong snagged Schrike’s deuce, spread four of a kind, discarded a trey. He gave Racewiz a small grin. The look in his eyes told Racewiz that not even an ace would keep him from getting burned.

“Looks like everybody’s sandbagging” PumpMonkey said, staring at a hopeless hand. “Why can’t we play smear instead?” They knew Pump’s hand was bad when he started whineing for a different game.

Oed wished Thronebeast were there. His presence generally gave Schrike the jitters, and Oed believed that he figured out how to read him. But it was his turn to get supplies from Rade. Rade is a collection of neutrals that has a convenient spaceport near the equator of Katabatic, where it’s usually a pleasant thirty-five below and sunny. Vong, the teams quartermaster had his chair.

Pump glared menacingly at his hand. A pair of sevens, a pair of eights and a nine to go with one eight, but no run. “There are two ways to play this game,” he said as he drew a nine that gave him a run. “Neither work.” He finished as he spread the seven, eight and nine, dumped the other seven and prayed that praying would help.

Oed ignored the seven and drew “Damn.” He tossed a six on Pump’s run and discarded another six. Looking at Racewiz, “Okay, the moment of truth has arrived, Chump,” then, “Anyone else get lost in here?”

The DragonWolves had taken out the TRA a month ago, their base here on Katabatic was too big for the garrison stationed, but they liked it. “Nope,” PumpMonkey responded, looking at Racewiz. Team Three had already beaten off four attacks of what consisted of the remaining TRA forces. Rayzer asked Homicide for more troops, fearing a the rumors of the TRA marshalling of forces up north was true. “Dammit Race,” Pump said, “Shit or get off the pot will ya?”

Vong kept his smiled plied at Racewiz, and was ticking the corner of his card with his thumbnail. “The TRA have got new spiritual drive.” He said, “They know we lost Manitou, and they’re psyched, claiming they’ve got some wizmo-gizmo, magic-machine that has brought back their leader.”

“If they’ve got that old Pissant back, how come he hasn’t come dropping greenies on our front lawn?” Schrike asked, and looked expectantly at Race, “C’mon bud, you’re burning daylight.”

“Maybe they haven’t gotten their boy back.” Oed volunteered.

Vong shrugged, “Maybe something’s wrong, I think the TRA fractions are arguing amongst themselves on who gets to do what.” He gave a slight snort, “Punk-ass mercenaries.”

Racewiz chickened out. He drew, looked at the card and swore under his breath. He tossed his draw, a lord, on the discard. Schrike drew and discarded another lord. Vong looked at Racewiz, he drew with his left, flipped a five onto Oed’s six that extended off of PumpMonkey’s run with his right and with out looking at his draw, discarded.

“A five?” Racewiz squeaked. “You were holding a five? Aw, c’mon! I don’t believe it. He had a five.” He slapped his ace onto the table. “He had a damn five!”

“Temper, temper,” Schrike admonished. “You’re the guy that always tells Pump to calm down, remember?”

“Don’t bring me into this, dammit!” Pump exclaimed. “I didn’t want to play this game!”

“But…he bluffed me with a damn five!”

Vong kept his smile as he raked in his winnings. Everyone thought he was holding an ace.

Oed shoved the cards at Racewiz. “Deal.”

“What? I have to deal too?”

“Shut up and deal.” Pump said.

“It’s your turn.” Oed informed him. Racewiz began to shuffle.

Schrike asked Vong, “Where did you hear that reincarnation stuff.”

“Rayzer.” Rayzer was base commander on Katabatic until they decided to vacate. Why they were still on the base was unknown to all but Homicide, Rayzer and a very select few.

Racewiz dealt. As Pump groaned that his hand couldn’t make a foot, Racewiz’s eyes got big, and he slammed his cards face-up on the table “TONK!” all heads snapped at his cards. “Tonk-tonk-tonk!” be bounced in his chair, “Fifty!” He laughed. He had dealt himself five royal cards. Automatic win with double payoff. Everyone grumbled.

“The only way he can win is to deal them himself.” Oed grumped. “Cheater.”

“You can’t win, even when you cheat, Maggot Lips.” Racewiz replied, still laughing as he stacked his winnings.

Schrike started shuffling.

As the next had went the distance, Pan wandered in, face blank, eyes empty. Mani’s death had hit them all hard, especially the old-timers that all went back to the earlier outer-rim wars. Hamma, Otto, Doomhawk, Chuk, Schrike, Oed, Pump, Dane. Hamma walked. Dane resigned his commission and departed as well. Homicide took the reins, but ‘Only a temporary basis’ he said. He fought it al the way but he was told by all that he was going to take the job. His ceromony wasn’t very courteous. Groovy Man literally held ‘Cide down while SwiftAsAFeather pinned the Badge of Office on him. But Mani’s death it hit Pan the hardest, she always kept his crystal on her. She hardly spoke or said anything. Time and again, Rayzer tried to get her off Katabatic, but she wouldn’t go.

Aunte-Bellum walked in for some coffee.

Vong dealt, Schrike tried to go down with eighteen. Oed burned him with seventeen. Pump raked the cards in and began shuffling. Racewiz got up to get some chow, Aunte took his chair.

“C’mon Pump,” Oed began, “I’m on a roll! Deal me those acey-duceys.” He rubbed his hands together. Fifteen and under, like forty-nine and fifty is an automatic win.

Pump was distantly staring, folding the cards over and over, he snapped back, “Sorry, I caught myself taking this reincarnation stuff seriously.”

Vong volunteered more, “It’s actually rather addictive, isn’t it. It hangs together with a certain amount of hope that dares to breed faith.” Pump frowned his way. Vong wore a ‘know-it-all’ grin, “Think about it - ‘It’s hard to loose when you know that you’ll never die’.” They were listening. Vong shrugged. “At least that’s what Arglaar says.”

Oed’s eyes narrowed a bit, “Then we’ll have to change their thinking.”

“Can’t” Vong replied. “Beat the snot out of them time and again they’ll just keep coming back fo rmore. They’re becoming fanatical.”

Schrike said it. “Then we need to whip, humiliate AND demoralize them.”

The hand was proceeding, Vong flipped away an eight.

“These are the milestones of my Dragon Wolf existence.” Pump said.

Schrike shrugged, “Milestones are better than headstones bud.”

Aunte chimed, “Yup, this is the life alright. Hurry up and wait.”

Oed looked up from his hand, “Yea, for a change”

“Oh?” Schrike exclaimed, “My flock is bored! Awwww... I know- Let’s break out the auxiliary Stormhammer’s and…”

They groaned. Oed and PumpMonkey were captains but, Schrike holds senior rank of the squad.

“You’re idea of fun is to wash a clean Havoc.” Pump accused.

Vong went further, “C’mon Schrike, I’ve got cargo transports to unload, Throne and TestFlight should be back anytime. These clowns need exercise? Give them to me.”

Schrike and Oed exchanged glances. Race stopped eating and Aunte looked alert. Not back yet? They should have been back by noon. Pump slowly placed his cards face down on the table.

“I figured they were already in.” Schrike said.

Racewiz and PumpMonkey stood up. Aunte flipped his hand into the discard pile and stood. The rest followed suit.

“Oed, get a patrol ready,” Schrike rose, “ I’m going to tell Rayzer.”

Doomhawk met them at the door, “Hey! You guys actually know that the Jericho has a pattern buffer that stores your - Hey?!”

Oed grabbed his arm, spun him around and said, “You’re going Rade with us.”

To be continued...

 

Not that I'm aware of....

~PM~

 

Fear not m'dear....



~PM~

 

No "Story" continuation just yet,sorry.
I've got MAJOR Cruch time just now on a couple projects. One has to go GOLD the 6th of SEPT and...well...frankly, I think it's best not to say much about it.

(It's not my best work)

~PM~

 

Grumble, grumble, snagglefratch!

(Sigh) Ok...I suppose I could begin a flurry of typing during lunch tomorrow... (as if I needed and excuse~!)

~PM~

As the saying goes - Hang in there baby~!

 

Oed had a revelation -

If I was any more under, I'd drown.

~PM~

 

Ok.... I've been putting in a little OT @ work (got here @ 10 AM today, it's 11PM now)...I hope to have the next chapter up in a day or two...

Thanx for your patience~! (and life preserver~!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

~PM~

 

My next post shall contain the second chapter (I'm sorry for any gramatical errors - Work is hell just now and will remain so for a while... but I need an 'escape' once in a while)

~PM~

 

The power grid protecting Rade, originally designed to keep the fiercest Katabatic storms at bay, proved itself to be invaluable during a renegade Blood Eagle raid. Created by Diamond Sword engineers, the shield is the standard energy flux matrix found throughout the Empire with a substantial difference. While constructing the shield, a Diamond Sword Engineer by the name of Harold Zinderklaus was encountering problems with garbled communications and standard unshielded equipment. He traced these problems to crystal isotopes scattered throughout the planet. Isotopes that were not in the standard database. Their crystalline matrix in particular attracted Harold’s interest. In his preliminary tests, they could funnel, focus and store energy with twice the efficiency than anything he had yet used. He assigned the task of power routing out of the city core’s power grid to a subordinate, thus affording himself more time to deal with testing, building, the usual set-backs (and the isotopes). Upon completion of the shield, he decided to test a design for the isotopes as a backup power source in event of power failure or overloading of the shield. Before he was able to test their function, he vanished. Never to be heard from again.
Ten years later, the Organization of Imperial Merchant Houses held a summit on Katabatic. A faction of the Blood Eagles struck during the summit, attempting to leverage the Empire’s economy while gaining a foothold on Katabatic. The merchants knew full well that the shield possessed the ability to hold off a determined attack from a large force. In their hubris attitudes, they believed they were beyond reproach.
The attackers immediately targeted the defense turrets, removing them unimpeded. The small band continued its attack, armed with only one tank and two bombers, Rade City Defense Core was unconcerned until their defense grid was compromised. The Renegade Blood Eagle infiltrators managed to completely disrupt the city’s main power station. The shield was down. The bombers and tank rained violently lethal force on the defenseless city. The plan was succeeding beyond their expectations, as they brought the city to it’s knees. Suddenly, the shields power-capacitors flashed a brilliant yellowish white, restoring the power. The assailers concentrated all their firepower on the shield. With the towns turret emplacements already destroyed, they could afford time. Hovering, the bombers dropped a continuous rain on the shield. It remind. Mortars dropped and the shield refused to decline. Once a few of the garrison suited into armor to defend the city, they drove of the attackers, yet failed to kill or capture them all.
There is no certainty on who the attackers were. However, on GNN it was announced that the Blood Eagles have denied any responsibility or knowledge of their existence.

Rade has become a standard port for most any old combat veteran. A wonderful town for not only space travelers but mercenaries alike. Being so far from the Hub of the Empire, most citizens walked around with weaponry, the town garrison patrolled the richer quarters in brilliant, gleaming polished mechanized armor. In other, more…seedy areas, the patrol just walked. Often they walked past whatever was happening, ensuring they would see the dawn of a new day, and line their pockets in the process.

Marsman was on his way to Rayzer’s office from the former TRA lab. Just as he approached the door, he heard Rayzer yell through the bulkhead. Considering that he could be heard through the walls, there was no hesitation before MarsMan turned and walked away. Whomever was getting that royal dressing down would not be interrupted by him. He passed Schrike along the way and thought to warn him.
“He’s in a mood.” MarsMan volunteered.
Schrike nodded, and waited down the hallway within site of Rayzers door. MarsMan returned to the lab.

“An who can blame them for fine-ing me so irrezisteebull?” a drunken Malone slurred as the guard escorted him past Schrike. “Their imbred boy-vrends jus drink ‘emselves inta a stupor, an blast ice off-a some lake an have contests t’see who kin submerge their grav-bikes th’deepest. Or they go Xen-o tar- o saurs-o tipping-o.” He giggled, hiccupped and was dragged away as Schrike entered Rayzers office.
Schrike entered, and spied Rayzer taking pills and washing them down with strong liquor. He knew that Dane and PumpMonkey would be proud to see their boss drinking so heavily this early in the day, but realized that Rayzer was probably in foul temper so he decided to get to the point.
“Hey bud,” Schrike, began, ever formal, “We got a problem.”
Rayzer fell rather than sat in his chair. He sighed. “Revenge.” He nodded. “That’s what it is you know. I don’t know what for or by what divine power, but it’s revenge. Can you believe it - Malone tells me that last night he was molested by, and I quote; an overly affectionate, strong-hipped farmers daughter, end quote.” He rubbed his eyes. “What’s up?”
Schrike spilled the beans.

Rayzer decided to use the TRA's transport shuttle. Used for travel within solar systems, it contained a small medical facility, cafeteria, and passenger rooms and a moderately generous cargo bay.
As they boarded the transport, Praetor-Vong lit a smoke, Rayzer, Arglaar, Pan, and Doomhawk finished boarding.
Oed bummed a smoke from Praetor-Vong.
“Hey,” PumpMonkey glowered at them, “Don’t light up in here.”
“Does it bother you?” Praetor-Vong asked.
“Of course bothers me,” PumpMonkey feigned a cough, “can’t you tell?”
“Sorry.” Oed shrugged, blew his smoke toward the ceiling.
All signs were go, Racewiz gently lifted the transport of the pad.
Schrike walked over from Arglaar, Pan and Doomhawk and fired up a smoke as well.
Oed exhaled, and explained to Schrike as he took his first drag, “Pump doesn’t wasn’t us to smoke in here.” This time PumpMonkey’s cough was real.
“Mhm.” Schrike observed. “Why, does it bother you?”
“Yea, it bothers me.”
“Really?” Praetor-Vong asked. “I mean…we can like, put them out if it really does.”
Cough. “Yea, I want you to put them out.” Cough-cough.
“How about if we blow the smoke into the filters?” Oed offered.
“Wait, I got an idea,” Schrike said as he exhaled toward the ceiling, “we could open a window,” he turned to PumpMonkey, “would that help?”
PumpMonkey spent the voyage elsewhere.

Rayzer thought it would be a good idea for the team to split up. He and Praetor-Vong were known to the merchant, so they, along with Arglaar, DoomHawk, Racewiz and Pan would look for ThroneBeast and Testflight.

During the transport over, Rayzer, Schrike and Praetor-Vong discussed their plan and it was determined that if their contact had anything to do with this, it would be best to try and trick him into giving the information, rather than trying to by force. Once they determined their course of action, Schrike went over to inform his team.
“Here’s our plan,” Schrike began, “Our personally restored K-class yacht is broke down in orbit,” Schrike went on to explain, “Since everyone knows that once it’s tractored and impounded, we get charged up the wazoo, so we need the part fast.” He put out his smoke and continued, “I’m the pilot, Pump, you’re the owner, Oed the accountant and Auntie our bodyguard. We’re part of a Noble House that runs a successful freight company from the Inner Circle of the Empire.”
PumpMonkey was impressed that they planned everything so quickly.
“Rayzer’s pet project is restoring an old K-class yacht.” Praetor-Vong volunteered.
“Why do you think I had serial and part numbers for you.” Schrike said
PumpMonkey looked at Schrike, “Brown-noser.”

Once the transport was on the platform, PumpMonkey and Oed went in civilian clothes, Schrike in a light armor, Auntie in a heavier, mercenary style armor. As they entered the secondary shield to go through customs, the transport was given clearance, and Racewiz dusted off.
It was work Oed, PumpMonkey and Schrike hadn’t done in a long, long time. As always, PumpMonkey was worried, Oed told him to be calm and Schrike suggested a rehearsal.
“Where?” Oed asked, lighting up a smoke.
“How about over there?” Auntie, offered in his armor that bore markings similar to an Imperial House. The group looked at the merchant shop, a large dilapidated sign that read “Ye Old Parts Shoppe” with the ‘P’ was missing. It should have been an omen for things to come.
“Get down wind of me.” PumpMonkey said to Oed.
“Ye old ‘Arts’ Shoppe eh?” Oed observed, moving behind PumpMonkey. There was no breeze.
“Suuurrreee,” Schrike said, wearing the lightest of armors, turning toward the establishment.
“Oh, this’ll be fun.” Auntie stated.
“Everybody remember what they are supposed to do?” Schrike asked, as he extinguished his smoke.
Auntie commented that this was a lot of work just to get Rayzer a part for his hobby ship.

They walked into see an old man gently sleeping in a rocking chair, his dog asleep on a rug in the middle of the customer area with golden tinted sunlight glittering through the window.
“Hey.” Schrike said.
“Somehow this guy doesn’t strike me as the customer conscious type,” Auntie whispered.
“The best ones never do,” Oed volunteered.
“Excuse me!” Schrike tried again, louder. He continued to saw logs.
“HEY!!” Pumpmonkey bellowed, “OLD MAN!!” The man looked as though he got lanced in the bum. He wheezed out a cry, lurched himself three feet out of his chair, remained there a moment before gravity took over and crashed to the ground.
In barely a whisper, Oed chuckled to PumpMonkey, “Geez PumpMonkey, don’t give ‘em a heart attack!”
As Schrike helped him off the floor, he said “I NEED A PART FOR MY SHIP!” Almost as loud as PumpMonkey had been.
The dog remained sleeping.
“Take it heasy sonny,” the old man wheezed, “I ain’t deef y’know.”
“No.” Schrike responded. “I didn’t know.”
“Eh?”
“Never mind.”
“Eh?”
“I SAID-” Schrike sighed, shook his head, and let the old man guide himself behind his counter. It looked like a clerks nightmare, dust, scattered parts, grime, stacks of parts askew, more grime, and a general disarray everywhere behind the counter.
“Names McGill,” he began, “Need a part? I’ll fit the bill.” He finished, chuckling at his own rhyme. “Would you like a mint?” he gestured to a glass bowl that contained very old mints or dead dried spiders in it. Schrike declined.
“I need a part for my ship.” Schrike begin again.
“Yea?” the old man looked at Schrike. “You said that before.” He suddenly noticed the others. “I’ll be with youz in just a minutes. You might want to take a number.”
Oed noticed that the ticker machine was broken and covered in dust.
“They’re with me.” Schrike explained.
“Oh.” said McGill. He looked at the group then back to Schrike. He was probably wondering how big this part was that it would require so many to carry. “Then mebee youz wants to sit down.”
“Not on you’re life.” PumpMonkey said, observing the torture instruments that McGill mistakenly passed for furniture.
“Eh?”
“Can we get started please?” Schrike interjected.
“Shoor…” said McGill.
“I need a gyroscopic stabilizer for a K-class yacht, model number k520-”
“Hang on Sonny.” McGill seemed to be having trouble removing the dust cover from his terminal. “Oke,” McGill continued, to Schrike, “what do you need?”
“A gyroscopic, stabilizer,”
As Schrike started, McGill nodded, remembering. He began two finger typing what could have been his life story. He paused looked at the terminal and frowned. He gently placed the palm of his hand on the monitor. With his arm stiff, he raised it up over his head and dropped it on the monitor. “Huh.” He looked at Schrike, “She’s broke.”
Auntie, imposing in his Mercenary armor, bent forward to whisper to Oed and PumpMonkey “Can’t we just like…I don’t know…torture him into giving us the information?”
PumpMonkey’s jaw tightened, Oed and Auntie thought this was funny.
“Is it turned on?” Schrike, calmly sighed.
McGill snapped his fingers, “New-fangie inventions, now where did I put that manual?”
Schrike glanced at the others. From someone else it would have been a ‘help me’ look. Or even a ‘I’m going to rip his throat out’ look. But from Schrike, it was his “Ok, I’m gonna do this if it kills me’ look. He reached over and powered the terminal up. “Hey, look - it’s on!” Schrike exclaimed.
“So it is!” McGill replied as his head came back up from under the counter. In his hand were some documents, still in their original wrapper, covered with dust and a gooey substance. “Hokey-Dokie,” McGill said and actually cracked his knuckles, everyone knew what he was about to say. In fact, he and Oed said it in perfect unison.
“What’cha need sonny?”
There was a pause. Schrike was counting to ten. “I” he began, “need…a…Gy-ro-scopic Stabilizer for a K-class yacht,”
The old teller whistled, “I ain’t seen one of them in a long time. They haven’t made them for years and years.”
“Yes,” Schrike agreed, “I know. It’s restored model.”
McGill began to reminisce about his first K-class yacht when he was a very young lad working for his father when Schrike again cut in.
“I would like to order my part please.”
“Oh! Shoor thing, sonny,” He cheerily responded. Schrike kept a straight face even though he didn’t like being called ‘sonny’.
“It’ a gyroscopic stabilizer, for a k-class yacht, part number K-GS -520379408359a.”
“Hang on here sonny - this alphabet ain't in no such order.”
“G-y-r-o-s-c-o-p-i-c s-t-a-b-l-i-z-e-r.” Schrike spelled it out with a one second interval between letters.
Schrike heard McGill said “Ok”, so he waited. McGill intoned again “Ok. Right?”
Confused, they looked at one another, then McGill looked at all of them in turn.
“That’s yer yacht class, ‘K’ right?”
Oed thinks it’s very funny to see Schrike build from determination into covert anger. Especially when it’s directed away from him. He inhaled, then Schrike answered, “Yes.”
McGill looked back to his screen. “s…t…a…a…where’s the ‘a’ key…?”
Oed looked at PumpMonkey “All this just to get into the grove? This is getting out of hand.”
“Yea, but I like seeing Schrike getting tortured.”

Racewiz had the signal. It seemed to be weak or shielded, but he was locked on. He told Rayzer. Everyone snapped to alert status.
“How many?” Rayzer asked.
“Looks like both.” Racewiz said. The transport was circling an extended orbit around Rade. The transport turned and leveled out. “We’ll be there in two-n-two.”
Praetor-Vong looked at another screen, “Other than the dome, no other life signs detected within 10 miles.”
“Drop us in, hidden.” Rayzer softly ordered.
“Check.” Replied Race. They didn’t know what they would find, but it was certain that if Throne missed a deadline, it wasn’t trivial. They all sensed something, and it smelled bad. Racewiz changed direction away from their destination, boosted the jets to give the transport more speed then dropped in low. He then activated the onboard jammer, preventing the transport from being detected, and abruptly changed course toward the signals, hugged the hills that rivaled even Hamma’s flying skills. Three times he thought Racewiz was about to smash the transport. It forced Rayzer wondering if all pilots enjoy torturing their passengers. Like Hamma did. When he left, Hamma said something about breathing room, served up his walking papers, dropped them on Homicide’s desk. And went. As the transport landed he wondered of Homicide had signed them.
“Move out.” Rayzer said in a hushed town. “Standard Ops 3.”
The transport descended onto packed snow, the troops jumped out a hatch. This main ramp would not be deployed. Their orders were for silence, foot patrol, minimum jetpacks. An unshielded transport is one of the fattest plums you could give someone. Rayzer didn’t think anyone deserved dessert just now. Pan, Praetor-Vong, Arglaar and Doomhawk hit the snow. Doomhawk motioned for Praetor-Vong to ascended a nearby spire. Once there, Praetor-Vong un-slung his sniper rifle and surveyed the area quickly before he nodded to Doomhawk. Doomhawk and Pan ran toward the cave from opposite flanks. Arglaar, in his massive juggernaut armor waited a few second before he began to move toward the cave, without bothering for any secrecy.
Her plasma cannon out, Pan flexed her hands as she waited for DoomHawks signal. She swore an oath to herself that she would NOT fail. Just as she had insisted on going with. She knew that she lacked authority, and was not necessarily given ‘preferred’ treatment because of her family status. But Rayzer had sensed that this would be beneficial. It would give her an occupation, albeit a temporary one. She remembered it was the same oath she used when they suited up on the transport, Arglaar had overheard at least part of what she mumbled to herself. All he caught was “…it’s dammit…and we are not going to loose another family member while I’m around.”
“Amen sister.” He interjected.
His reply had snapped her out of her diatribe. She paused to stare at the massive BioDerm warrior with swallowing eyes. He had just finished suiting up and as he snapped his helmet to his waist he winked at her then lumbered to his seat. She didn’t cry. One month after she lost the most valued thing in her life, she realized that she was home. And it felt…good. Reassuring. Now she understood her lost brother even more. She knew she was ready to move on. Doomhawk signaled all clear, she ran and threw herself on the right side of the cave mouth. She looked back and saw Arglaar position himself directly facing the cave in his massive -CDL- BioDerm armor. So long as he kept his power output low, he was just as undetectable as her, however, Doomhawk figured if Arglaar was in open sight of the cave, maximum shock value would be achieved. Anyone looking out of the cave would see him first. He was studying his portable computer, and looked up, giving the signal that so far the sensors detected no change. Pan figured that since no one had fired at Arglaar, that was good enough.
Doomhawk nodded at her and they switched on their head lamps as they jumped into the cave. Her breath echoed in her ears, the two small green indicators on her HUD showed no movement, thirty yards or so ahead. They went forward.

“It’s what we figured,” Race said to Rayzer on board the transport. “It’s the mineral deposits of that cave. Some type of isotope that is interfering with our sensors. Have you encountered any record of this elsewhere on the planet?”
“Yes.” Rayzer said. “In our new base here. They had some type of lab set up there. It looked like they were trying to come up with some type of power system.”
Rayzer remembered he sent Marsman and Fox to investigate the lab a week ago. They’re reports were sketchy at best, and when he made a visit to the lab last week. Fox and Marsman told him, “One does not rush heedlessly into someone else’s lab. Especially if is the enemies. You just might find yourself the new candidate of a super-nova.”
“So far,” Marsman continued, “This could be a formula for preparing Dragonwolf pot-pie, or it could be a prototype for a power generator.”
“Pretty small for a generator.” Rayzer remarked.
“Pretty unbelievable when you think you know what it is.” Fox said to Rayzer.
“Well?”
MarsMan and Fox exchanged glances. Fox took a deep breath, and went on. “We’re not entirely sure,”
“About eighty percent certain actually,” Marsman interjected.
“Um, yea.” Fox continued. “About eighty percent certain that this is a model for a micro-fusion accelerator.”
“Yikes!” said Rayzer, suddenly he didn’t want to be anywhere near this room.
Marsman added “This isn’t a working model. So far it looks to be one-fifteenth to scale.”
“Or roughly the size of our Jericho.” Fox gave Rayzer the visual.
“Um…” Rayzer said, digesting the information.
“He’s gonna ask,” Marsman said to Fox.
“I know,” Fox replied back. “We’ll just have to tell him the truth.”
Rayzer looked puzzled, “Ask what?” he demanded.
“If it’s built, where is it and does it work.” Fox said, leaning up on a counter.
Rayzer stood for a moment. He didn’t know he was going to ask that question but he realized that Fox was right. “Okay,” he said “I’ll bite.”
“So will we,” Marsman responded. Rayzer looked at him, Marsman folded his arms and shrugged, “We don’t know.”
“So, there could be a TRA faction here on the planet, with an endless supply of power.”
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Doomhawk bent over ThroneBeast. It was bad, but not hopeless. Inside the therm-tent Throne set up, the temperature was bearable. Test had so many leaks in her armor, she was suffering from wounds as well as major frostbite. Doomhawk and Pan managed to get a delicate seal on Test’s armor. Pan set down the portable med-kit and powered it up. The bio-nanites entered her suit and system. As Pan’s hands vibrated with the hum of the unit, she felt the warm glow as red shielded stream poured into Test’s body. Pan then realized that she was emotionally begging for Test to get better as well. She didn’t realize it was part of her healing process, how terrified that she was to loose TestFlight. She thought it weird that equipment could do that to her. Instantly, Test’s breathing became stronger and more rhythmic. The bio-nanites technology of the repair packs astounded her. Pan lacked security clearance to know she held personalized medicine for combat purposes. Each DragonWolf had their DNA mapped into several computers for this specific reason. Originally designed for testing on one of the most scarred Dragon Wolves, -CDL- American Psycho. Psycho couldn’t enter a combat without getting damaged. It seemed that no matter whom his opponent was, his skill always started out fifty percent less than his opponents, but something inside him instantly sensed his opponents abilities and he would become over fifty percent better than his opponent. It was -CDL- Mossimo that suggested the idea of the medical ‘slap-patches’ that replaced the early repair kits. These ‘slap-patches’ started as blood-plasma samples taken from Psycho, modified to prevent body-rejection in tanks in the med-lab, and seemed to heal Psycho better than the standard repair kits. Soon the standard repair kits were replaced with a new Bio-Repair Kit that was more customized to each of the Dragon Wolves. And the nanites were designed to dissolve into plasma to aid in the repairing of the hosts system. Still called Repair Kits, they are in total use and can stabilize someone who has suffered even the most brutal of injures. The larger repair packs that Pan and DoomHawk carried, contained basic medical information of each of the Dragon Wolves. Shrouded in secrecy,-CDL- Master designed an as of yet, un-cracked security system. Although besieged with problems at the onset, his end result is that the equipment could only be used by someone who’s DNA was already stored in the system. Otherwise the unit will simply short circuit itself. Only a half dozen Dragon Wolves knew this secret.

Throne was a BioDerm, and the Med-kit instantly switched the bio-nanites to a pattern that was compatible with the Horde Warrior. As his healing proceeded, his wounds, deeper and more severe than TestFlights, began to heal. Although the healing seemed to progress unimpeded, DoomHawk could not bring their comrade back into consciousness.
Doomhawk fashioned a makeshift litter and placed Throne on it as Pan helped a barely conscious Test to Arglaar.
Rayzer and Race met them under the transport, Doomhawk pulling ThroneBeast, Arglaar carrying Test, and Pan bringing up the rear with the supplies.
They signaled for Praetor-Vong to return to the transport. Once all were inside and secure, Racewiz piloted the transport to Rade.


“Well, by golly you’re right!” McGill said to Schrike. “The part does exist.” He squinted and read his monitor. “One Gyroscopic Stabilizer for the KK Class yacht coming up.”
“It’s a K-class, not K-K Class.
“Oh.” McGill said. “Why didn’t you say so? We’ll have to start over,” he began searching his keyboard, “Lets see here…”
Enraged, Schrike turned to kick the sleeping dog. However, upon closer inspection, he realized it was dead.

-Put in a note stating that they went to the real contact next...just a thought (I planned on mentioning that when the groups unite again) - The last paragraph has everyone back together, and really does not tie that this whole thing with the old man was a nussance, not the real contact...just an ops.

The Transport landed on the assigned platform in Rade. By then Rayzer had gotten most of the story from Test. From what they could piece together, she and Throne had been jumped by a group of mercenaries as they were loading the transport.
More recovered, with everyone present, TestFlight again recalled the incident.
“They were definitely after us,” she said, “Make no mistake about it.”
“You were wearing your DragonWolf armor?” Rayzer asked, knowing the answer already.
“Yes.” She confirmed. “We were loading the transport, the usual dockworkers present. We were hopelessly outnumbered. It was an entire company.” The other exchanged glances, “We were loading the transport,” she repeated, “when they attacked. Bullets ripped through a dockworker next to me as concussion grenades bounced all around, throwing cargo around me and knocking me off my feet. Somehow, Throne managed to charge them, returning fire with grenades. It a moment before I realized that he was yelling for me to follow. He had charged them with his grenades exploding between us. It…it clouded their vision and I followed him. I could hear the dockworkers yelling, as he leaped off the platform.” She paused for drink of water, “As we ran below them, I could hear the dockworkers be decimated by the chain guns. I heard some board out transport as well, I guess they were looking for us, they didn’t realize we had dropped below.”
“They probably figured you were hiding.” Praetor-Vong volunteered
“The sound of the gunfire covered you.” Arglaar said. He was out of his heavy armor standing near ThroneBeasts sleeping form. “He attacked then, did he not?”
Test was surprised. “Yes,” she said, she began her story again, her eyes drifted to the steady rhythm of ThroneBeast's chest. “We were under and behind them. He paused and fired several grenades launcher through a vent. They bounced against the building and landed into the firing troops. I heard their screams. I know he hurt and killed some, but…”
“What?” Rayzer prompted
“They” she struggled, she wasn’t sure how to express what she wanted to say, “They seemed more angry then hurt.” She finally decided on. She looked like she was still arguing with her thoughts.
“Could be Juice?” Racewiz volunteered. Test looked confused, Doomhawk explained,
“Juice is used by many mercenaries. There are several types. The most common are ones that removes pain and heightens the senses.” He shrugged.
Test continued, “Could be,” she said, her head nodding, “Well...they, didn’t know where the attack had come from, so I threw a few white-outs over the lip and we made a break for it.” She paused for another drink of water.
“You didn’t make it.” Rayzer guessed.
Test shook her head as she set down the water, “Yes, we did. We grabbed the edge of the platform, remember we were near the docking bay, not the ship. So we hoisted ourselves up onto the platform. Then Throne knelt behind a crate and fired his Stormhammer into a cluster three mercs guarding the building entrance. They were in combat armor. They were thrown back but they returned fire wildly. They didn’t know where we were and I think this is when we both were first struck.” She paused again, it was obvious that many thing had happened at once and she was trying to collect her thoughts. “I noted a broken open crate near me with deployment turrets. I threw my last flash grenade, grabbed a turret from the crate, armed it, placed it on the other side of the crate, and ran like hell.” She pointed at Throne. “He bellowed and charged. He literally jumped over the small group that stood guard over the exit. Still blind, they were caught in a crossfire. I ran toward the door, all I had out was my blaster. The effects of the white-outs were wearing off one remained. I took him out and tripped over a broken crate. I saw Throne running toward me, firing grenades at the ground, watching them bounce toward the enemy. I started to stand when…when the lights went out.” She paused, and looked at Throne, like most people in the Empire, she had believed almost every bit of nasty propaganda stated about the BioDerm. She stared at him and spoke, her voice distant, “He saved us somehow. I…I don’t know how we got away.”
“Not…easily.” Throne croaked out before he again returned into a slumber.

When the second group returned to the transport, Schrike gave his report to Rayzer. "Well the contact is clean," he began.
"Eh sonny?!" Auntie yelled as he began taking off his armor.
"What did you find out?" Rayzer addressed Schrike while looking askance at Auntie.
"Not much," Schrike shrugged.
"There ain't no 'A' key," PumpMonkey addressed Oed arms akimbo.
"Throne and Test purchased supplies," Schrike went on.
"Holdy on here sonny, I can't seem to spell!" Oed replied to PumpMonkey, whistling out every 'S'.
Schrike inhaled then continued, "every thing seemed normal."
Rayzer nodded, gestured at the other three, "What are they talking about?"
"Nothing." he replied
"I needs me a rocking chair," Auntie said walking over to Oed and PumpMonkey.
"Huh?" Rayzer said, looking back and forth between them and Schrike.
"Never mind them," Schrike said. "They're unstable. Did you find ThroneBeast and TestFlight?"
"Yes," Praetor-Vong, silently standing off to the side finally spoke up.
"How are they?" Oed asked.
"What happened?" Auntie wanted to know.
"Well," Rayzer began, "TestFlight is up and eating, ThroneBeast is still unconscious. We found them in a cave and as far as what happened, we don't fully know. TestFlight told us her side of the story but it's incomplete. What we've begun to piece together is- "
"Rayzer," DoomHawks voice announced over the transports intercom, "ThroneBeast is awake."
"I guess we'll find out PumpMonkey said to no one in particular as they all turned to follow Rayzer.

He was sitting up, sipping a cup of Throkren (the BioDerm equivalent of coffee), inhaling the steam.
Everyone almost greeted and expressed their concerns to him at once.
“Well,” he began his eyes flickered to all in greeting, “before I tell my story,” his eyes locked on to Rayzers, “I feel that you should know who jumped us at the pad.”
Rayzer was taken aback. It is normal for ThroneBeast to display the epitome of calmness during combat, but for him to give such an intent stare gave Rayzer a cold flash. He blinked. “Uh, yea, ok.”
“Starwolf.”
Rayzer turned white as a sheet. Several people swore, Oed gagged, PumpMonkey said he had to use the bathroom, Arglaar used a BioDerm term that related to their mothers and sex. TestFlight blinked, open mouthed.
Starwolf. One of the Primary Mercenary Council Clans. Tangling them risked the wrath of the others and the Emperor as well. Starwolf.
Racewiz looked at Rayzer, “Should we head back to base?” They all remembered they were sitting on a landing platform.
Razewiz broke everyone out of their shock. “Uh…yea.” Rayzer said. “I gotta make a call,” he trotted to the on board communication unit. “Oh I hope to hell Homicide answers…”
DoomHawk stayed with ThroneBeast as the others dashed of in preparation of the worst. They all feared that Dragonwolves and the Starwolves were about to go head to head. There was no lack of confidence in their abilities, but the Starwolves had a reach that was far superior than that of the Dragonwolves.
Some have said that ‘All war is based on deception’. Others say was is about tactics, honor or glory. All these are true. However, war is often based upon something more important.
Survival.

To be continued...

 

I did, but it was subtle -

I ran it past Oed and he agreed with you Arg.
I will keep an eye out for such things in the future~!

(when I eventually start the next chapter....)

Thanx~!

~PM~