Bob_Marley
Tank
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awsome man.
Malign Contingency
- Thread starter Edcrab
- Start date
Sulkdodds
The Freeman
- Joined
- Jul 3, 2003
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Enjoyed this story? MORE BY THE SAME AUTHOR!
http://www.fictionpress.com/read.php?storyid=2002936&chapter=1
[/pimpage]
Seriously, it's aweshens.
http://www.fictionpress.com/read.php?storyid=2002936&chapter=1
[/pimpage]
Seriously, it's aweshens.
tinyxipe
Newbie
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Whew! I finally caught up and....
Wow! I'm just speechless! You've packed a lot into this story and it just keeps getting better. I remember you commenting at one time about how MC didn't have a book-like feel, but that has certainly changed. Stylistically, the story has changed so much and all I can say is it's very impressive.
A special thanks to Sulkdodds for the link! Whee! More Edcrab stories are happy news! :bounce:
Wow! I'm just speechless! You've packed a lot into this story and it just keeps getting better. I remember you commenting at one time about how MC didn't have a book-like feel, but that has certainly changed. Stylistically, the story has changed so much and all I can say is it's very impressive.
A special thanks to Sulkdodds for the link! Whee! More Edcrab stories are happy news! :bounce:
G
Gatecrasher
Guest
If i could just join all the growing procession of admirers, Im lovin your story. Been with it from near the start so just thought i would finally throw my congrats in there.
:cheers:
:cheers:
Edcrab
Veteran Incompetent
- Joined
- Aug 3, 2003
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- 2,388
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- 0
Ah, Sulkdodds, you saved me self-piming again! I'm glad to see you like both...
And thanks TinyXipe- If you like it, I know I'm doing something right!
And I'm glad to see you've stuck with me Gatecrasher
Last of chapter 26...
“If it didn’t follow us, it can’t have been interested in us. We should’ve stayed and repaired-”
“Repaired what?” Zyke snapped at Gregory. “There was nothing left. Nothing.”
“There was the teleporter- it picked up this Nailer guy, so it worked just fine. We could’ve used that-”
“The teleportation device was primitive and lost its battle with the phase flux,” Pyotr interrupted him. “It will never function again.”
“And it’s ‘Nalore’,” Quarir corrected him irritably.
Maggie was, as Kim so proudly told them, a converted police-response vehicle. But time and repairs had sapped her strength, and so the hideously overcrowded van knocked them all around terribly- or would have, if there was enough room for them to.
Zosia and Nuri were upfront- Quarir wasn’t sure which of them was at the controls, but by the sounds of it one of them was a terrible backseat driver- they rarely stopped arguing. And since their passengers were similarly belligerent, the trip certainly wasn’t pleasant.
But they had avoided the Gunship- it had taken a few token shots at them but had flown past, intent on other business. Pyotr had explained that the conflict in City 17 had escalated- to the point that entire residential districts had taken up arms instead of a few diminutive Resistance cells- and that the Combine, quite sensibly, was putting all other activities on hold in order to best defend their core city.
Yuza- wrapped heavily in blankets to disguise her condition- didn’t even breathe. But she had a pulse, and none of the Aegis members were knowledgeable of medicine, so they didn’t think her condition to be unnatural. They were, however, clearly agitated by the fact that she was taking up so much room- laid flat across the van’s base on a thin mattress, amongst the squatting refugees and the few supplies they’d had remaining.
“Do you see that up ahead?” someone asked from Maggie’s front, flipping the viewing hatch open.
The passengers cautiously lifted the protective screens aside and looked out- City 17, as huge as ever, was burning- its south-eastern quarter was a mess of flaming rubble. Mortar Synths lumbered through the wreckage, flattening remnants underfoot as their shells devastated further swathes of slums.
“Yes- much of the conflict occurred in the south,” Pyotr said without looking. “Their transhuman contingent is outnumbered but far more durable than the average being. With their superior equipment and Synth support they are putting up their own resistance.”
“What about the other cities?” Charlie asked the Vort, prodding him despite the alien’s dislike of such gestures.
Pyotr’s kind were, however, infinitely patient at times. “Many have fled the outlying cities- seeking refuge in Resistance camps, or moving on to swamp the Citadel under a horde of the repressed. Eli Vance’s capture was the lith-tirr’st’rel that broke the bullsquid’s back.”
“See? Everyone else is taking action,” Quarir told Gregory, a touch too smugly.
Aegis’s embittered leader scowled at the raging fires. “The Vort didn’t mention all the deaths though, did he? There’ll be thousands-”
“We intend to fight for the future, rather than for our lives,” Pyotr bowed his head. “That may appear to be an illogical concept- the future is an intangible resource- but we have learnt to value the teachings of Eli Vance beyond all others.”
“He’s got a point, Cap,” Struer attempted to mollify his colleague. “You always talked about taking the battle to the Combine-”
“Back then I thought we had a chance! Now, it’s all gone-”
“Oh, shut up!” Zyke snarled. “We were just one cell- a tiny group in a network of, as you’re fully aware, hundreds! Stone Well, New Little Odessa, the Lighthouse, Iron Bridge… and now the people themselves have finally joined us, as we’ve wanted all along! Cut out the pessimism!”
Nalore smiled- clearly, Zyke had taken to the Resistance’s cause in his three long years of Supercomputer-imposed exile.
So have you. I can feel it.
Quarir gaped across the van. I thought you weren’t much of a telepath now?
Zyke shrugged mentally. I’m not- I can barely send and receive across ten feet. But you’re pretty close to me. If I can pick up a signal from a Vort, I can read you.
What was that like? Tapping into their Vortessence, or whatever it’s called?
Zyke shuddered, but everyone had lapsed into a thoughtful silence and didn’t notice. I never want to do it again. I only got inside because they let me- I mean, Pyotr let us know what was happening- but if the Supercomputer had a mind, it’d be like that. It was huge- I felt I’d drown there. It wasn’t nice.
Zyke looked up. “Hey- this isn’t the direction we planned,” he called out accusingly.
“We’re taking a detour,” Zosia replied, “we spotted a pair of APCs circling the hill. We don’t want to attract attention to ourselves.”
“Good thinking. Keep your eyes peeled.”
Zosia nodded, and slid the hatch shut, apparently tiring of Zyke’s tips.
You know, Maintonon will go nuts, Nalore thought, wondering if Zyke’s connection was still present. That was a daunting, invasive prospect… if he dared to think about it.
Because this wasn’t part of his plan? He’ll have to live with it. It's not as if we're doing it for the glory- we're helping people, people who need it. I’ve sat on my ass long enough. In fact, this is the second ass I’ve had to sit on, factoring in the regeneration and all. This ass is going to see some activity.
Uh…
Yeah, I’ve just realised how bad that sounds.
To take their minds away from buttock exercise, Zyke rapped his knuckles on the hatch. “We nearly there?”
“Yes, we’re approaching the camp,” came the reply. “Won’t be long now.”
Ruth looked at the Rot questioningly. “What camp?”
“Stone Well,” Zyke elaborated. “It’d be safer to recoup there then going past all the Synth- it’s just a pity they don’t have a Vort stationed.”
“Ah, Stone Well,” Struer nodded in recognition. “We refuelled there, once or twice.”
“Don’t remind me,” Gregory growled.
Something screamed overhead.
“What the hell was that?” Charlie covered his ears.
“Mortars,” Nuri shouted. “They’re shelling Stone Well…!”
Another piercing whistle of tearing air, this time followed by an earth-shattering crunch. Maggie suddenly crashed into something: metal squealing, passengers shouting, the noise went on for some time.
“We just crashed into a mortar,” Zosia said, trying to calm them down, “but it’s not explosive, I think it’s a dud- oh god! It’s full of headcrabs!”
There was screeching of a different kind- the eager chirping of the parasites and the clinking of glass as they threw themselves at the windscreen, not understanding why they couldn’t latch onto the promising organisms within.
“Right, everybody out!” Zyke took charge again. “There could be an explosive mortar following, we can’t stay in here-”
Maggie’s back opened, but not because of his instructions. Twisted and buckled, the two doors were tearing in the clawed hands of gurgling zombies.
And thanks TinyXipe- If you like it, I know I'm doing something right!
And I'm glad to see you've stuck with me Gatecrasher
Last of chapter 26...
“If it didn’t follow us, it can’t have been interested in us. We should’ve stayed and repaired-”
“Repaired what?” Zyke snapped at Gregory. “There was nothing left. Nothing.”
“There was the teleporter- it picked up this Nailer guy, so it worked just fine. We could’ve used that-”
“The teleportation device was primitive and lost its battle with the phase flux,” Pyotr interrupted him. “It will never function again.”
“And it’s ‘Nalore’,” Quarir corrected him irritably.
Maggie was, as Kim so proudly told them, a converted police-response vehicle. But time and repairs had sapped her strength, and so the hideously overcrowded van knocked them all around terribly- or would have, if there was enough room for them to.
Zosia and Nuri were upfront- Quarir wasn’t sure which of them was at the controls, but by the sounds of it one of them was a terrible backseat driver- they rarely stopped arguing. And since their passengers were similarly belligerent, the trip certainly wasn’t pleasant.
But they had avoided the Gunship- it had taken a few token shots at them but had flown past, intent on other business. Pyotr had explained that the conflict in City 17 had escalated- to the point that entire residential districts had taken up arms instead of a few diminutive Resistance cells- and that the Combine, quite sensibly, was putting all other activities on hold in order to best defend their core city.
Yuza- wrapped heavily in blankets to disguise her condition- didn’t even breathe. But she had a pulse, and none of the Aegis members were knowledgeable of medicine, so they didn’t think her condition to be unnatural. They were, however, clearly agitated by the fact that she was taking up so much room- laid flat across the van’s base on a thin mattress, amongst the squatting refugees and the few supplies they’d had remaining.
“Do you see that up ahead?” someone asked from Maggie’s front, flipping the viewing hatch open.
The passengers cautiously lifted the protective screens aside and looked out- City 17, as huge as ever, was burning- its south-eastern quarter was a mess of flaming rubble. Mortar Synths lumbered through the wreckage, flattening remnants underfoot as their shells devastated further swathes of slums.
“Yes- much of the conflict occurred in the south,” Pyotr said without looking. “Their transhuman contingent is outnumbered but far more durable than the average being. With their superior equipment and Synth support they are putting up their own resistance.”
“What about the other cities?” Charlie asked the Vort, prodding him despite the alien’s dislike of such gestures.
Pyotr’s kind were, however, infinitely patient at times. “Many have fled the outlying cities- seeking refuge in Resistance camps, or moving on to swamp the Citadel under a horde of the repressed. Eli Vance’s capture was the lith-tirr’st’rel that broke the bullsquid’s back.”
“See? Everyone else is taking action,” Quarir told Gregory, a touch too smugly.
Aegis’s embittered leader scowled at the raging fires. “The Vort didn’t mention all the deaths though, did he? There’ll be thousands-”
“We intend to fight for the future, rather than for our lives,” Pyotr bowed his head. “That may appear to be an illogical concept- the future is an intangible resource- but we have learnt to value the teachings of Eli Vance beyond all others.”
“He’s got a point, Cap,” Struer attempted to mollify his colleague. “You always talked about taking the battle to the Combine-”
“Back then I thought we had a chance! Now, it’s all gone-”
“Oh, shut up!” Zyke snarled. “We were just one cell- a tiny group in a network of, as you’re fully aware, hundreds! Stone Well, New Little Odessa, the Lighthouse, Iron Bridge… and now the people themselves have finally joined us, as we’ve wanted all along! Cut out the pessimism!”
Nalore smiled- clearly, Zyke had taken to the Resistance’s cause in his three long years of Supercomputer-imposed exile.
So have you. I can feel it.
Quarir gaped across the van. I thought you weren’t much of a telepath now?
Zyke shrugged mentally. I’m not- I can barely send and receive across ten feet. But you’re pretty close to me. If I can pick up a signal from a Vort, I can read you.
What was that like? Tapping into their Vortessence, or whatever it’s called?
Zyke shuddered, but everyone had lapsed into a thoughtful silence and didn’t notice. I never want to do it again. I only got inside because they let me- I mean, Pyotr let us know what was happening- but if the Supercomputer had a mind, it’d be like that. It was huge- I felt I’d drown there. It wasn’t nice.
Zyke looked up. “Hey- this isn’t the direction we planned,” he called out accusingly.
“We’re taking a detour,” Zosia replied, “we spotted a pair of APCs circling the hill. We don’t want to attract attention to ourselves.”
“Good thinking. Keep your eyes peeled.”
Zosia nodded, and slid the hatch shut, apparently tiring of Zyke’s tips.
You know, Maintonon will go nuts, Nalore thought, wondering if Zyke’s connection was still present. That was a daunting, invasive prospect… if he dared to think about it.
Because this wasn’t part of his plan? He’ll have to live with it. It's not as if we're doing it for the glory- we're helping people, people who need it. I’ve sat on my ass long enough. In fact, this is the second ass I’ve had to sit on, factoring in the regeneration and all. This ass is going to see some activity.
Uh…
Yeah, I’ve just realised how bad that sounds.
To take their minds away from buttock exercise, Zyke rapped his knuckles on the hatch. “We nearly there?”
“Yes, we’re approaching the camp,” came the reply. “Won’t be long now.”
Ruth looked at the Rot questioningly. “What camp?”
“Stone Well,” Zyke elaborated. “It’d be safer to recoup there then going past all the Synth- it’s just a pity they don’t have a Vort stationed.”
“Ah, Stone Well,” Struer nodded in recognition. “We refuelled there, once or twice.”
“Don’t remind me,” Gregory growled.
Something screamed overhead.
“What the hell was that?” Charlie covered his ears.
“Mortars,” Nuri shouted. “They’re shelling Stone Well…!”
Another piercing whistle of tearing air, this time followed by an earth-shattering crunch. Maggie suddenly crashed into something: metal squealing, passengers shouting, the noise went on for some time.
“We just crashed into a mortar,” Zosia said, trying to calm them down, “but it’s not explosive, I think it’s a dud- oh god! It’s full of headcrabs!”
There was screeching of a different kind- the eager chirping of the parasites and the clinking of glass as they threw themselves at the windscreen, not understanding why they couldn’t latch onto the promising organisms within.
“Right, everybody out!” Zyke took charge again. “There could be an explosive mortar following, we can’t stay in here-”
Maggie’s back opened, but not because of his instructions. Twisted and buckled, the two doors were tearing in the clawed hands of gurgling zombies.
Steel.Inferno
Newbie
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: o
<3 Mc
<3 Mc
G
Gatecrasher
Guest
oooooooooooooooooh zombies!
Just a quick question, is your story gonna finish in the same sort of time frame as the game itself or is the plan for it to carry on for a while yet?
Just a quick question, is your story gonna finish in the same sort of time frame as the game itself or is the plan for it to carry on for a while yet?
Edcrab
Veteran Incompetent
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Hmm, dang limits... I'll post the rest of this chapter later. I can't believe I'm still awake
Gregory smiled dryly. “Nice plan of yours!”
“Shut up!” Zyke spat at him, ripping the top off a supply crate and producing an SMG.
Quarir- far from their equipment but perilously close to one of the gargling mutants- lashed out with his boot. It connected, and there was grunt of pain- but its sheer strength allowed the zombie to retain its footing. The other creature peeled off the door and flung it aside, and it laughed its alien laugh, mud spattering it as a second mortar crashed nearby.
Zyke liberally sprayed the beast with gunfire, and it spasmodically toppled backward into the churning earth. The other- sporting a bloody, boot-shaped imprint on its headcrab- reached out for Nalore’s leg, snarling hungrily- the Domarian peeled the ‘crab off and flung the dying parasite away from them.
“Get out!” Zyke bellowed at them, “Quickly!”
Everyone poured from the rear, grabbing what they could. Zyke was infuriated on seeing Gregory ignore Yuza in favour of an ammunition box, but he silently hefted up the comatose woman and followed after the fleeing contingent.
Zosia and Nuri- suitably shaken and filthy- came after them, fleeing a smoking driver’s cab that was now thoroughly covered in squeaking headcrabs.
“Why aren’t they following us?” Charlie indicated the van, even as they scrambled behind a steady-looking formation of boulders.
Pyotr followed the man’s finger- chirruping parasites adorned the van’s front. “A potential host must be nearby.”
The truth hit Nuri like an A-Bomb. “Worborne! We left him in there!”
Struer’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Can’t he get out himself?”
“We tied him up,” Zosia gasped, “we didn’t trust him!”
“Leave him,” said Gregory, and Zyke was, for once, inclined to agree.
“We can’t do that,” Nalore stood up heroically. “I’ll go after him.”
No one tried to stop him- which hurt his feelings somewhat- but Quarir wanted the man alive for purely self-serving reasons. He’d totally forgotten about his existence- Quarir hadn’t even seen him on boarding Maggie- but he needed to know what the Combine knew about him; Worborne was as good a source as anyone, and he was probably going to be more talkative if his interviewer had recently saved his life.
Quarir ran towards the stricken van, jumping slightly as another mortar crashed into the hillside, almost crushing him with shattered rock. He pulled up at the door- a headcrab leapt from the roof eagerly, but he swatted it aside casually- and pulled himself in.
Worborne was inside, mumbling urgently- he’d been gagged as well as tied up, explaining his silence during the trip. Quarir made as if to grab the scientist but saw the headcrab on the chair between them- on realising that it was no longer dealing with immobile prey, the parasite backflipped towards Nalore’s fresher cranium.
In a macabre moment of multitasking, Quarir grappled with the creature- waving it in an effort to smash it to pieces on the dashboard- while simultaneously trying to drag Worborne clear. They abruptly dropped to the ground, and Worborne muttered something incomprehensible- which was just as well, because after such a fall he was unlikely to be complimentary. Quarir hurled the headcrab onto the bonnet, put the restrained Worborne over his shoulder, kicked another curious Xenian towards the horizon, and ran for his life.
Moments later an explosive mortar hit Maggie dead on- the van was annihilated along with its latest alien passengers, vanishing in a cloud that was part fiery oblivion, part earthy murk.
Quarir dropped Worbone onto the mossy ground and collapsed against the boulder, breathing rapidly in exhaustion and elation. Zyke opened his mouth to comment- possibly to congratulate him, possibly to bemoan the loss of Maggie- but a burst of pulse rounds silenced them.
Everyone crouched low, taking cover behind a rock which now seemed inadequately sized- bullets cracked and whistled off every facet of their craggy shelter.
Zyke was hit in the shoulder- but the wound angered the Rot more than incapacitating him, and he returned fire without hesitation. The Aegis team, Nuri, Charlie- everyone was trying to take out their attackers, but amidst all the smoke and the constant rain of grass sods Quarir wondered if anyone could see a thing.
Pyotr, however, must have- there was a cry of pain and the flat line of a soldier’s monitoring unit as the Vort sent lightning crackling into the fog of war.
“Stone Well was a small outpost,” Struer bellowed, “why are they nuking it like this?”
And Quarir- who had actually seen a thermonuclear bombardment during his planet-hopping years- conceded that the Combine were nuking the base. Stone Well had been more camp than headquarters- a few tents and the odd shack- but now nothing was left; Stone Well had been reduced to a series of smoking craters and flattened dwellings- there must have been an entire platoon of Mortar Synths encircling them.
“They’ve stopped the bombardment,” Ruth suddenly noted- it had been more than thirty seconds since the last mortar fell.
“We see further oppressors approaching on foot,” Pyotr explained, “there are two carrier vehicles beyond that outcropping.”
“Damn,” Zyke rubbed at his shoulder, “Right, let’s go- get Worborne untied Quarir, we don’t want to carry the bastard everywhere- everyone else, head up the hill- if I’m right we’ll find somewhere to hide.”
Gregory clearly didn’t have much faith in Zyke’s leadership. “And if you’re wrong?”
“Then you’re dead,” the Rot said simply, his tone implying that the Aegis leader would die at his hands if not the Combine’s.
They ran off, carrying Yuza’s still-unconscious body between them. Muttering, Quarir struggled with Worborne’s bonds, deciding that whoever had tied him up must have been a boy scout that had turned to S&M in later life- the knots were ridiculous. Eventually sheer strength and persistence paid off and the ropes shredded- Worborne hurriedly pulled the saliva-sodden rag out of his mouth and spat to rid himself of the taste.
“Oh, thanks so much,” he groaned, and Quarir wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not. On hearing the distant crackle of radio chatter and the occasional rattle of heavy boots on gravel, Quarir grabbed him and unceremoniously ran off towards Stone Well’s peak.
The team was there, gratefully examining a massive crater with a similarly huge hole at its heart, littered with charred stone.
“This is Stone Well itself,” Zyke explained, obviously relieved his hunch had paid off, “it leads to a tunnel network- some medieval, some the remains of an old sewage works.”
“Sounds great,” Gregory sniffed derisively- and then wished he hadn’t, because he got a nose full of elderly effluent.
Zyke waved them down. “Hop in- it’s not as deep as you think- and I’ll pass Yuza down.”
They hesitated.
“Don’t just stand there; the soliders’ll be here any minute!”
Eventually Ruth took the first step- Struer followed hurriedly after she went down, and Gregory- feeling the need to be with his former unit- reluctantly climbed after them. Charlie hopped in gleefully, but after a rattling noise and a few grunts it seemed that Stone Well wasn’t quite as shallow as Zyke had thought.
“She’s headcrabbed!” Nuri screeched.
Quarir span round: aghast, the refugees were staring at Yuza, a headcrab sat smugly atop her skull.
“We’ve got to remove it before it’s too late,” Zosia shuddered, and Zyke, guiltily laying the Enforcer on the ground, obligingly took aim…
“Oh, I’m quite all right. Bit of a blessing, come to think of it.”
Yuza stood up, patting her headcrab experimentally.
“It’s not exactly comfortable- and I can’t see much except red- but I think the mutagens it’s pumping into me are really helping matters. Kick-started the muscles and everything.”
“What the hell?” said Nalore.
“Good grief,” said Zosia.
“Urgh,” said Worborne.
“Hmm,” said Zyke thoughtfully.
Colour was already returning to Yuza’s cheeks- although they couldn’t actually tell. The strange bulges and wrinkles caused by her hasty nanotechnological reparations were fading and shrinking and the grey tinge was rapidly leaving her skin.
“It seems the warper of existence has benefited her,” Pyotr mused philosophically.
“Are you guys all right?” Charlie’s voice echoed from the depths.
“Fine,” Zyke bellowed. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
“No,” Yuza assured him, “I don’t think they start chewing on your cerebral cortex until after the prelim alterations. I believe that happens within thirty seconds on non-serumites, but since they don’t seem to be affecting me- well, I’m fine. Like I said, it’s a blessing.” She realised something. “You’ll be Zichekoam, right? We haven’t met-”
“Can we keep the introductions for after?” Nuri shivered. “Preffably when you’ve taken that thing off-”
“Halt,” barked an amplified voice.
An Elite stood facing them- he wasn’t, to Quarir’s relief, the huge one Pyotr had called the “Fortieth”, but he was one of what they’d come to think of as the “special” Elites- bulkier armour, different markings, clearly one of the highest ranked soldiers on this planet.
The “special” operative waved his pulse rifle threateningly. “Drop your weapons and accompany me to-”
“Excuse me?”
The Elite, despite all his training, turned towards Yuza- and got a thoroughly bemused headcrab thrown onto his face.
Yuza was already scrambling down the well’s slick sides, perfectly intact except for tiny punctures on her upper neck. “Thought the ‘crab deserved a second chance at bonding after what it did for me. Coming?”
They positively flung themselves into Stone Well, leaving the Elite to scrabble at the fortuitous headcrab.
Chapter 27: Beneath Enemy Lines
Gregory smiled dryly. “Nice plan of yours!”
“Shut up!” Zyke spat at him, ripping the top off a supply crate and producing an SMG.
Quarir- far from their equipment but perilously close to one of the gargling mutants- lashed out with his boot. It connected, and there was grunt of pain- but its sheer strength allowed the zombie to retain its footing. The other creature peeled off the door and flung it aside, and it laughed its alien laugh, mud spattering it as a second mortar crashed nearby.
Zyke liberally sprayed the beast with gunfire, and it spasmodically toppled backward into the churning earth. The other- sporting a bloody, boot-shaped imprint on its headcrab- reached out for Nalore’s leg, snarling hungrily- the Domarian peeled the ‘crab off and flung the dying parasite away from them.
“Get out!” Zyke bellowed at them, “Quickly!”
Everyone poured from the rear, grabbing what they could. Zyke was infuriated on seeing Gregory ignore Yuza in favour of an ammunition box, but he silently hefted up the comatose woman and followed after the fleeing contingent.
Zosia and Nuri- suitably shaken and filthy- came after them, fleeing a smoking driver’s cab that was now thoroughly covered in squeaking headcrabs.
“Why aren’t they following us?” Charlie indicated the van, even as they scrambled behind a steady-looking formation of boulders.
Pyotr followed the man’s finger- chirruping parasites adorned the van’s front. “A potential host must be nearby.”
The truth hit Nuri like an A-Bomb. “Worborne! We left him in there!”
Struer’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “Can’t he get out himself?”
“We tied him up,” Zosia gasped, “we didn’t trust him!”
“Leave him,” said Gregory, and Zyke was, for once, inclined to agree.
“We can’t do that,” Nalore stood up heroically. “I’ll go after him.”
No one tried to stop him- which hurt his feelings somewhat- but Quarir wanted the man alive for purely self-serving reasons. He’d totally forgotten about his existence- Quarir hadn’t even seen him on boarding Maggie- but he needed to know what the Combine knew about him; Worborne was as good a source as anyone, and he was probably going to be more talkative if his interviewer had recently saved his life.
Quarir ran towards the stricken van, jumping slightly as another mortar crashed into the hillside, almost crushing him with shattered rock. He pulled up at the door- a headcrab leapt from the roof eagerly, but he swatted it aside casually- and pulled himself in.
Worborne was inside, mumbling urgently- he’d been gagged as well as tied up, explaining his silence during the trip. Quarir made as if to grab the scientist but saw the headcrab on the chair between them- on realising that it was no longer dealing with immobile prey, the parasite backflipped towards Nalore’s fresher cranium.
In a macabre moment of multitasking, Quarir grappled with the creature- waving it in an effort to smash it to pieces on the dashboard- while simultaneously trying to drag Worborne clear. They abruptly dropped to the ground, and Worborne muttered something incomprehensible- which was just as well, because after such a fall he was unlikely to be complimentary. Quarir hurled the headcrab onto the bonnet, put the restrained Worborne over his shoulder, kicked another curious Xenian towards the horizon, and ran for his life.
Moments later an explosive mortar hit Maggie dead on- the van was annihilated along with its latest alien passengers, vanishing in a cloud that was part fiery oblivion, part earthy murk.
Quarir dropped Worbone onto the mossy ground and collapsed against the boulder, breathing rapidly in exhaustion and elation. Zyke opened his mouth to comment- possibly to congratulate him, possibly to bemoan the loss of Maggie- but a burst of pulse rounds silenced them.
Everyone crouched low, taking cover behind a rock which now seemed inadequately sized- bullets cracked and whistled off every facet of their craggy shelter.
Zyke was hit in the shoulder- but the wound angered the Rot more than incapacitating him, and he returned fire without hesitation. The Aegis team, Nuri, Charlie- everyone was trying to take out their attackers, but amidst all the smoke and the constant rain of grass sods Quarir wondered if anyone could see a thing.
Pyotr, however, must have- there was a cry of pain and the flat line of a soldier’s monitoring unit as the Vort sent lightning crackling into the fog of war.
“Stone Well was a small outpost,” Struer bellowed, “why are they nuking it like this?”
And Quarir- who had actually seen a thermonuclear bombardment during his planet-hopping years- conceded that the Combine were nuking the base. Stone Well had been more camp than headquarters- a few tents and the odd shack- but now nothing was left; Stone Well had been reduced to a series of smoking craters and flattened dwellings- there must have been an entire platoon of Mortar Synths encircling them.
“They’ve stopped the bombardment,” Ruth suddenly noted- it had been more than thirty seconds since the last mortar fell.
“We see further oppressors approaching on foot,” Pyotr explained, “there are two carrier vehicles beyond that outcropping.”
“Damn,” Zyke rubbed at his shoulder, “Right, let’s go- get Worborne untied Quarir, we don’t want to carry the bastard everywhere- everyone else, head up the hill- if I’m right we’ll find somewhere to hide.”
Gregory clearly didn’t have much faith in Zyke’s leadership. “And if you’re wrong?”
“Then you’re dead,” the Rot said simply, his tone implying that the Aegis leader would die at his hands if not the Combine’s.
They ran off, carrying Yuza’s still-unconscious body between them. Muttering, Quarir struggled with Worborne’s bonds, deciding that whoever had tied him up must have been a boy scout that had turned to S&M in later life- the knots were ridiculous. Eventually sheer strength and persistence paid off and the ropes shredded- Worborne hurriedly pulled the saliva-sodden rag out of his mouth and spat to rid himself of the taste.
“Oh, thanks so much,” he groaned, and Quarir wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not. On hearing the distant crackle of radio chatter and the occasional rattle of heavy boots on gravel, Quarir grabbed him and unceremoniously ran off towards Stone Well’s peak.
The team was there, gratefully examining a massive crater with a similarly huge hole at its heart, littered with charred stone.
“This is Stone Well itself,” Zyke explained, obviously relieved his hunch had paid off, “it leads to a tunnel network- some medieval, some the remains of an old sewage works.”
“Sounds great,” Gregory sniffed derisively- and then wished he hadn’t, because he got a nose full of elderly effluent.
Zyke waved them down. “Hop in- it’s not as deep as you think- and I’ll pass Yuza down.”
They hesitated.
“Don’t just stand there; the soliders’ll be here any minute!”
Eventually Ruth took the first step- Struer followed hurriedly after she went down, and Gregory- feeling the need to be with his former unit- reluctantly climbed after them. Charlie hopped in gleefully, but after a rattling noise and a few grunts it seemed that Stone Well wasn’t quite as shallow as Zyke had thought.
“She’s headcrabbed!” Nuri screeched.
Quarir span round: aghast, the refugees were staring at Yuza, a headcrab sat smugly atop her skull.
“We’ve got to remove it before it’s too late,” Zosia shuddered, and Zyke, guiltily laying the Enforcer on the ground, obligingly took aim…
“Oh, I’m quite all right. Bit of a blessing, come to think of it.”
Yuza stood up, patting her headcrab experimentally.
“It’s not exactly comfortable- and I can’t see much except red- but I think the mutagens it’s pumping into me are really helping matters. Kick-started the muscles and everything.”
“What the hell?” said Nalore.
“Good grief,” said Zosia.
“Urgh,” said Worborne.
“Hmm,” said Zyke thoughtfully.
Colour was already returning to Yuza’s cheeks- although they couldn’t actually tell. The strange bulges and wrinkles caused by her hasty nanotechnological reparations were fading and shrinking and the grey tinge was rapidly leaving her skin.
“It seems the warper of existence has benefited her,” Pyotr mused philosophically.
“Are you guys all right?” Charlie’s voice echoed from the depths.
“Fine,” Zyke bellowed. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
“No,” Yuza assured him, “I don’t think they start chewing on your cerebral cortex until after the prelim alterations. I believe that happens within thirty seconds on non-serumites, but since they don’t seem to be affecting me- well, I’m fine. Like I said, it’s a blessing.” She realised something. “You’ll be Zichekoam, right? We haven’t met-”
“Can we keep the introductions for after?” Nuri shivered. “Preffably when you’ve taken that thing off-”
“Halt,” barked an amplified voice.
An Elite stood facing them- he wasn’t, to Quarir’s relief, the huge one Pyotr had called the “Fortieth”, but he was one of what they’d come to think of as the “special” Elites- bulkier armour, different markings, clearly one of the highest ranked soldiers on this planet.
The “special” operative waved his pulse rifle threateningly. “Drop your weapons and accompany me to-”
“Excuse me?”
The Elite, despite all his training, turned towards Yuza- and got a thoroughly bemused headcrab thrown onto his face.
Yuza was already scrambling down the well’s slick sides, perfectly intact except for tiny punctures on her upper neck. “Thought the ‘crab deserved a second chance at bonding after what it did for me. Coming?”
They positively flung themselves into Stone Well, leaving the Elite to scrabble at the fortuitous headcrab.
Bob_Marley
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Nice use of a headcrab. Your work continues to be amusing and entertaining. MORE!!!
Edcrab
Veteran Incompetent
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Thanks! Here's the last of the chapter- but the follow-up will probably be a while longer, since I need to sort out a few character issues
The tunnels beneath Stone Well were damp, dark, and alive with moss and lichen- just what Quarir had expected. But compared to the radioactive depths of Ucelsia’s Catacombs- which he’d sheltered in for almost a week- these were quite pleasant.
Quarir had once compared his situations to his life’s highlights- the unmatchable high of a successful sting, a relaxing night in his penthouse- and had thus found fault in just about everything. But now he searched his various experiences for something worse, and thus found himself considering that, despite appearances, he was much better off than he had been.
“What you thinking about?” Nuri asked him softly.
“What I’ve just stepped in.”
“I wouldn’t look, if I was you.”
“You know,” Charlie said cheerfully, “when you went on about medieval tunnels I was certain this’d be a crypt or something- you know, zombies and stuff.”
“I’m sure there is a crypt in here somewhere,” Zyke told him, “but headcrabs need reasonably fresh bodies.”
“Oh, I meant generic undead,” Charlie elaborated, “you know, supernatural shenanigans. And chainsaws.”
Zyke didn’t bother replying to any of his comments after that.
They had torches- and they carried the equipment between them- so despite the dark, subterranean terrain they made good progress- both Yuza and Worborne were mobile again and were playing their part.
They’d expressed mild interest at Yuza’s miraculous revival and total apathy towards Worborne’s rescue- and the scientist, depressed by the lot of them, wisely kept mum about the nature of three of their members.
The group could still hear the sounds of combat- warped by forty feet of earth and stone and thus especially sinister- and they knew that wherever they emerged, they’d likely have a fight on their hands.
Zyke felt a hand on his shoulder- and flinched, because a pulse round had perforated it no more than ten minutes ago. But he recognised the intention of Yuza’s digit, and he slowed his pace so the two of them could follow behind and talk with no risk of discovery.
“You’re acting without Maintonon’s permission, aren’t you?” Yuza stated sternly.
“Probably,” Zyke smiled uncaringly. “He’s ignored us for days, so I’m taking charge. I’ve already died once for that cybernetic bastard.”
“Stop calling him that!” she hissed.
“Why? It’s a decent description. I’ve been here for more than three years- I’ve seen what these people have lived with. This isn’t just some mission to me any more. Hell, it never was- I wasn’t paid for this,” he added accusingly.
“So it’s because I’m an Enforcer?”
“Damn right. I don’t hop around the galaxy meddling with people’s lives, not caring what I do-”
“If we cared, we’d end up doing what you’re doing.” Yuza leant closer and lowered her voice even more. “Risking lives without backup and without authority.”
“Oh, shut up!” Zyke roared, and the whole group turned round, startled. “If the selfish scum-core cared, he’d send Grandcruisers! Blast the Citadel to pieces, evacuate everyone, and get them the hell away from the Combine!” He sneered, made a dismissive gesture and stalked off.
“It’s not that easy and you know it!” She ran after him, grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. “The Combine better us in every specification that matters- covertness is our only choice!”
Zyke shook her off him. “Touch me again and I’ll pull your arm off.”
“Oh?” Yuza drew herself up to her full height- she was a very tall woman, but Zyke was utterly enormous. “I’d like to see you try.”
“Really?” Zyke’s voice was quieter, more menacing. “I may not be packed full of bionics but I’ve had hundreds of years to master my body. Want to push your luck?”
Quarir, fearing they’d say or do something they’d all regret, ran forward and pulled them apart- temporarily forgetting the fact that either of them could’ve torn him in half. “That’s enough. We’ve got to keep going.”
Exchanging glances of pure hatred, the two walked off into the darkness.
“What was that all about?” Gregory watched them go. “Someone else thinking he’s got all the leadership ability of a concussed barnacle?”
“What did we say about metaphors?” Zosia warned him, but Quarir knew what she was thinking.
Like Nuri before them, those of the rebels “in the know” were undoubtedly trying to understand why the Domarian Legion hadn’t intervened more forcibly. Nalore had realised himself that the Combine were too strong- they wouldn’t survive a direct conflict, but to the likes of Zyke- blinded by a desire to aid the communities they’d come to love- it was inexcusable.
Worborne looked at him pityingly. “A little disruption in your command structure, Domarian?”
“I’ll disrupt your structure if you don’t get lost, Slick,” Nuri waved her revolver and the man backed off.
Quarir allowed himself a smile. “Slick?”
“It suits him. It was either that or ‘Greasy’.” She returned his smile. “Listen, me and Zosia know what you’re trying to do and we think it’s great. We don’t understand, exactly, what your political situation is but we’re-”
“I don’t think anyone understands it,” Quarir sighed.
Water splashed, and something guttural cried out. Numerous weapons were readied in anticipation of zombies, whether mutants or the sorcerous undead Charlie had expected- but Pyotr waved his three hands for them to stop.
“Cease your hostilities- that is the call of an adult bullsquid. We shall investigate,” Pyotr lurched off in the spirit of discovery.
“Uh,” said Struer, “he’s actually looking for a bullsquid?”
Yuza cocked her head. “Bullsquid?”
“An amphibious predator- but you’d know that, if you actually expressed an interest.”
Yuza ignored Zyke’s snide remark and watched the enacting drama.
Pyotr was slowly moving toward a shallow puddle, illuminated by their numerous flashlights. Sitting at its centre, watching them all curiously, was a bizarre animal- a muscular, grunting creature that looked, predictably, like a squid with a pair of legs. Its limbs looked part ostrich, part cattle- hoofed with reversed knees- and its razor-toothed mouth was surrounded by long, gently swaying tentacles. The whole thing had a pale, mottled skin, which glistened either with natural luminosity or the water it had been splashing through.
Despite Pyotr’s assurances, several guns were pointed at the alien- bullsquids were renowned for their short tempers and territorialism.
“Gr’gol-tal-na,” Pyotr chirped quietly, taking a step into the puddle.
The bullsquid growled and gnashed its teeth, tentacles twitching in warning.
“Gr’gol-tal-na,” Pyotr repeated.
The bullsquid roared like its bovine namesake, and lunged forward. It stopped at the last minute, narrowly avoiding flattening Pyotr and also evading certain death at the hands of the nervous refugees.
“It is merely displaying its usual defensive characteristics,” Pyotr guaranteed them. “Many of these animals were trained in ages gone by- as it has not yet attacked, this must be one of the intelligent beasts.”
Nuri swallowed, checking her pistol’s safety for the third time. “Are you suggesting some of them are tame?”
“No, merely trained. I am sure I can instruct it to let us past. Gr’gol-tal-na,” Pyotr said again.
The animal barked.
Pyotr, drawing his leg back, kicked it in the head with his chitinous foot plate. “Gr’gol-tal-na!”
The bullsquid squinted in confusion.
“Be at ease,” Pyotr repeated impatiently, seeing their guns rise yet again, “we are merely introducing physical stimuli in order to trigger the animal’s-”
The bullsquid dived forward, and there was a crunch, followed by a long pause.
“We were incorrect,” Pyotr admitted. “Kindly execute the beast before it bites through our foreleg.”
The tunnels beneath Stone Well were damp, dark, and alive with moss and lichen- just what Quarir had expected. But compared to the radioactive depths of Ucelsia’s Catacombs- which he’d sheltered in for almost a week- these were quite pleasant.
Quarir had once compared his situations to his life’s highlights- the unmatchable high of a successful sting, a relaxing night in his penthouse- and had thus found fault in just about everything. But now he searched his various experiences for something worse, and thus found himself considering that, despite appearances, he was much better off than he had been.
“What you thinking about?” Nuri asked him softly.
“What I’ve just stepped in.”
“I wouldn’t look, if I was you.”
“You know,” Charlie said cheerfully, “when you went on about medieval tunnels I was certain this’d be a crypt or something- you know, zombies and stuff.”
“I’m sure there is a crypt in here somewhere,” Zyke told him, “but headcrabs need reasonably fresh bodies.”
“Oh, I meant generic undead,” Charlie elaborated, “you know, supernatural shenanigans. And chainsaws.”
Zyke didn’t bother replying to any of his comments after that.
They had torches- and they carried the equipment between them- so despite the dark, subterranean terrain they made good progress- both Yuza and Worborne were mobile again and were playing their part.
They’d expressed mild interest at Yuza’s miraculous revival and total apathy towards Worborne’s rescue- and the scientist, depressed by the lot of them, wisely kept mum about the nature of three of their members.
The group could still hear the sounds of combat- warped by forty feet of earth and stone and thus especially sinister- and they knew that wherever they emerged, they’d likely have a fight on their hands.
Zyke felt a hand on his shoulder- and flinched, because a pulse round had perforated it no more than ten minutes ago. But he recognised the intention of Yuza’s digit, and he slowed his pace so the two of them could follow behind and talk with no risk of discovery.
“You’re acting without Maintonon’s permission, aren’t you?” Yuza stated sternly.
“Probably,” Zyke smiled uncaringly. “He’s ignored us for days, so I’m taking charge. I’ve already died once for that cybernetic bastard.”
“Stop calling him that!” she hissed.
“Why? It’s a decent description. I’ve been here for more than three years- I’ve seen what these people have lived with. This isn’t just some mission to me any more. Hell, it never was- I wasn’t paid for this,” he added accusingly.
“So it’s because I’m an Enforcer?”
“Damn right. I don’t hop around the galaxy meddling with people’s lives, not caring what I do-”
“If we cared, we’d end up doing what you’re doing.” Yuza leant closer and lowered her voice even more. “Risking lives without backup and without authority.”
“Oh, shut up!” Zyke roared, and the whole group turned round, startled. “If the selfish scum-core cared, he’d send Grandcruisers! Blast the Citadel to pieces, evacuate everyone, and get them the hell away from the Combine!” He sneered, made a dismissive gesture and stalked off.
“It’s not that easy and you know it!” She ran after him, grabbed his shoulder and turned him around. “The Combine better us in every specification that matters- covertness is our only choice!”
Zyke shook her off him. “Touch me again and I’ll pull your arm off.”
“Oh?” Yuza drew herself up to her full height- she was a very tall woman, but Zyke was utterly enormous. “I’d like to see you try.”
“Really?” Zyke’s voice was quieter, more menacing. “I may not be packed full of bionics but I’ve had hundreds of years to master my body. Want to push your luck?”
Quarir, fearing they’d say or do something they’d all regret, ran forward and pulled them apart- temporarily forgetting the fact that either of them could’ve torn him in half. “That’s enough. We’ve got to keep going.”
Exchanging glances of pure hatred, the two walked off into the darkness.
“What was that all about?” Gregory watched them go. “Someone else thinking he’s got all the leadership ability of a concussed barnacle?”
“What did we say about metaphors?” Zosia warned him, but Quarir knew what she was thinking.
Like Nuri before them, those of the rebels “in the know” were undoubtedly trying to understand why the Domarian Legion hadn’t intervened more forcibly. Nalore had realised himself that the Combine were too strong- they wouldn’t survive a direct conflict, but to the likes of Zyke- blinded by a desire to aid the communities they’d come to love- it was inexcusable.
Worborne looked at him pityingly. “A little disruption in your command structure, Domarian?”
“I’ll disrupt your structure if you don’t get lost, Slick,” Nuri waved her revolver and the man backed off.
Quarir allowed himself a smile. “Slick?”
“It suits him. It was either that or ‘Greasy’.” She returned his smile. “Listen, me and Zosia know what you’re trying to do and we think it’s great. We don’t understand, exactly, what your political situation is but we’re-”
“I don’t think anyone understands it,” Quarir sighed.
Water splashed, and something guttural cried out. Numerous weapons were readied in anticipation of zombies, whether mutants or the sorcerous undead Charlie had expected- but Pyotr waved his three hands for them to stop.
“Cease your hostilities- that is the call of an adult bullsquid. We shall investigate,” Pyotr lurched off in the spirit of discovery.
“Uh,” said Struer, “he’s actually looking for a bullsquid?”
Yuza cocked her head. “Bullsquid?”
“An amphibious predator- but you’d know that, if you actually expressed an interest.”
Yuza ignored Zyke’s snide remark and watched the enacting drama.
Pyotr was slowly moving toward a shallow puddle, illuminated by their numerous flashlights. Sitting at its centre, watching them all curiously, was a bizarre animal- a muscular, grunting creature that looked, predictably, like a squid with a pair of legs. Its limbs looked part ostrich, part cattle- hoofed with reversed knees- and its razor-toothed mouth was surrounded by long, gently swaying tentacles. The whole thing had a pale, mottled skin, which glistened either with natural luminosity or the water it had been splashing through.
Despite Pyotr’s assurances, several guns were pointed at the alien- bullsquids were renowned for their short tempers and territorialism.
“Gr’gol-tal-na,” Pyotr chirped quietly, taking a step into the puddle.
The bullsquid growled and gnashed its teeth, tentacles twitching in warning.
“Gr’gol-tal-na,” Pyotr repeated.
The bullsquid roared like its bovine namesake, and lunged forward. It stopped at the last minute, narrowly avoiding flattening Pyotr and also evading certain death at the hands of the nervous refugees.
“It is merely displaying its usual defensive characteristics,” Pyotr guaranteed them. “Many of these animals were trained in ages gone by- as it has not yet attacked, this must be one of the intelligent beasts.”
Nuri swallowed, checking her pistol’s safety for the third time. “Are you suggesting some of them are tame?”
“No, merely trained. I am sure I can instruct it to let us past. Gr’gol-tal-na,” Pyotr said again.
The animal barked.
Pyotr, drawing his leg back, kicked it in the head with his chitinous foot plate. “Gr’gol-tal-na!”
The bullsquid squinted in confusion.
“Be at ease,” Pyotr repeated impatiently, seeing their guns rise yet again, “we are merely introducing physical stimuli in order to trigger the animal’s-”
The bullsquid dived forward, and there was a crunch, followed by a long pause.
“We were incorrect,” Pyotr admitted. “Kindly execute the beast before it bites through our foreleg.”
Sloth
Tank
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I come back from a week long hike and i'm greeted with awsomelective updates.
You've made the Rot vs Enforcer arguements seem really come across as heated.
Also, Maintonon's Leigon is very good, only up to chapter 4, but it gives MC a bit more depth, as well as being a good read itself. :thumbs:
You've made the Rot vs Enforcer arguements seem really come across as heated.
Also, Maintonon's Leigon is very good, only up to chapter 4, but it gives MC a bit more depth, as well as being a good read itself. :thumbs:
Edcrab
Veteran Incompetent
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Thanks guys It's good to see you like ML evilsloth: I always wonder how my original fiction will compare to my efforts in someone else's universe
And now the moment I've been waiting for- the ultimate fanfic crossover! If you don't recognise the characters I've introduced, read the spoiler below- and shame on you!
“Come in Overwatch- this is patrol four. Repeat- we’ve discovered an unlicensed vehicle on the sector outskirts.”
Jacques and Knowles didn’t really go by their names anymore- they lived by their precinct identifiers, aptitude ratings and wage levels. But they were just human- the Metrocops lacked the massively technological implants of the military transhumans.
They’d joined up for fair rations and total job security- both of them had once been factory workers for City 17’s once-flourishing automotive industry. Now every vehicle had been decommissioned except for those that the Combine had manufactured- everything else had been scrapped, probably ending up as some essential component in a pulse rifle. Any given vehicle would be “unlicensed”, if one discounted the hulking armoured automobiles the Overwatch favoured.
This car, however, was clearly custom-built- only the diesel engine appeared to be factory made. It was an off-road buggy- bare chassis, elongated air vents for use underwater- a scout vehicle stripped clean of all excess weight. It was spattered with blood stains- some the rusty red of men, others the fading yellow of Antlions.
“Repeat, Overwatch- vehicle matches description from Fortress Beta report,” Knowles continued talking calmly into his radio. “Requesting Scanners and Synth support.”
They hadn’t signed up for this- they weren’t, in actuality, particularly bad men. They enforced the Combine’s fascist laws to the letter, but they were never brutal, never unduly cruel to the civilian populace. They’d nodded along to the propaganda, once, merely hell-bent on finding a new proffesion; but over time they’d come to believe that the Union truly wanted what was best for mankind.
And now the damnable Resistance was trying to end it all. There had been heavy casualties on all sides- and while the pair was in no doubt as to who would win, they feared for their own lives: despite the increasing hostilities, they were equipped only with SMGs and basic mesh armour. If it hadn’t been for their squadron captain’s wrangling, they’d probably still be toting pistols.
“It’s no good,” Knowles terminated his connection. “I can’t get through to them. There’s some kind of interference.”
“Well, we can only hope this isn’t his car,” Jacques shuddered.
Freeman had driven a scout buggy of this kind before his bizarre disappearance- but a Dropship had abducted that abandoned car and impounded it. This was a different transport, but it belonged to a similarly destructive owner: it was said that a humanoid, in strange garb, had obliterated the forces stationed at three of Nova Prospekt’s outlying fortress precincts.
He was now thought to be systematically destroying the outposts surrounding City 17- leaving charred corpses and flaming garrisons in his wake. He could not be identified, and the Scanners had gathered no cohesive intelligence- but it went without saying that the mysterious wanderer was highly dangerous.
And now a car that could well be his was parked outside their perimeter defences…
“That’s my combustion-automotive, thank you very much.”
Knowles’s head snapped backwards with a sickening crunch, twisted by an arc of energy that crackled from out of nowhere.
Jacques turned, driven mad by fear, and looked into the blank white eyes of the sneering Zealot. The Arcadimaarian’s next gesture cleaved him in two, leaving two steaming halves to sizzle on the ground.
“Come in patrol four- this is the captaincy department. Do not attempt to apprehend the suspect- leave the area immediately and await backup-”
The Zealot glanced at the primitive communicator, and then crushed it effortlessly, sprinkling the shards on its former owner’s corpse.
Almost a mile away- atop the massive civil building that was now the Overwatch Nexus- Forty watched a lone vehicle circle the city, patiently trying to locate a gap in their defences.
He made a mental note to eviscerate the driver, and then followed his assigned unit into a Dropship’s transport bay.
The Vortigaunt turned away from whatever transdimensional conversation it was holding and addressed the group directly. “Pyotr reports that the oppressor’s elite soldiers are in pursuit.”
Kat nodded. “Do you still think it’s safe to collapse the tunnel, Sam?”
“It will not be safe for anyone still within its confines,” Sam closed his central eye in contemplation. “Nevertheless, if our allies can reach us in time, we can crush their pursuers with impunity.”
“Don’t we need it as an escape route? You know, to get to Stone Well-”
“Nah- the north-eastern tunnel’s safest. There’s a dozen bullsquid living down that way- if anything, Calhoun’ll be glad we did it.”
The two men chuckled and began setting parsimonious amounts of explosives on the sagging wooden shoring, preparing for the planned collapse as they had all agreed.
Kat sighed and rubbed some life into her pained eyes. She couldn’t remember their names- and although they probably couldn’t recall hers either, the fact bothered Kat. She prided herself on knowing much of the community- by title if not personally- and felt that it was a grim reminder of how hectic things had become that there were so many fresh recruits.
Of course they’d all prayed for that- but now that the Resistance had been flooded with raw human resources- a polite way, Barney had said, of calling them “clumsy civilians”- management had become hellish. Granted, that wasn’t Kat’s calling and never would be; but with so many converging on their position- from both outlying Resistance cells and purely civilian districts- the huge facility that they’d dubbed “Vanguard” had become a logistical nightmare.
They had supplies aplenty, and fortunately for every new face there was a hugely competent veteran like Barney- but it would never be easy.
Barney Calhoun- a Black Mesa survivor who now bore the rank of the Resistance’s commander-in-chief- had rallied every group towards freeing Eli Vance. Nova Prospekt had been crippled by Freeman- despite the man’s inexplicable departure- and with it one of the Combine’s biggest garrisons and most foreboding punishments had been banished from the City’s apprehensions.
But the push towards the Citadel had stalled- now they lay in weight within Vanguard, exchanging constant fire with the innumerable H-S choppers and Gunships the Combine threw at them. The Civil Protectorate had no wish to crush them just yet- they merely aimed to keep them busy while they dealt with the more urgent insurgencies closer to home.
Barney talked always of assaulting the Nexus- of opening the inner compound’s gate and disabling the suppressor unit that rained destructive fire down on anyone within a kilometre, and it was a vision they all shared- although not all of the Resistance shared his optimism, namely his heartfelt belief that Freeman would return again.
“All done,” said one of the nameless demolitionists.
“Yeah,” the other slapped his hands together theatrically, “if it’s all right with you Kat, we’ll just go back and-”
“I’ll be fine,” she assured them, vaguely guilty at the fact they recalled her forename, “Sam can always tell me what to do.”
“Indeed. We are always glad to render assistance.”
The two nodded gratefully and went towards the Vanguard’s “battlements”- the former processing plant’s rooftop, currently an explosion of improvised barricades. They took several stairways and passed dozens of busy rebels en route- Vanguard never slept.
Sam never slept- at least to Kat’s knowledge- and neither did she. But unlike the Vort, she needed sleep, and the constant combat was wearing her down. She stifled a yawn, and began thinking of whales. Big, tireless whales, majestic denizens of the deep. Although no doubt the Combine had butchered them all for organic ballast-
“We have arrived!” a Vort cried urgently, “Prepare your charges!”
Kat noted the two twists of wire that the men had left on the floor- she gripped them and prepared to act. “We’re ready!” she cried down the tunnel.
A large group- far bigger than she had been lead to expect- burst out of the shaft, followed by amplified shouts and bursts of pulse fire. Sam raised a hand, indicating that all were present, and she touched the two cables together- there was a spark of current and two dull thuds in the passage’s depths.
For a horrible moment it seemed the tunnel would remain intact- but with a cacophonous roar of pouring stone and sifting dust the entrance collapsed.
An Elite’s munition orb- trailing ineffable particles- zipped overhead and rebounded off some distant support girders before detonating. It caused a rusty portion of gantryway to collapse, but everyone was more preoccupied with what hadn’t made it inside- their relief was palpable.
“That was well planned,” breathed a tall man. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. I just triggered them- it was Sam’s idea.”
The Vort nodded modestly.
“You’re Katya, right?” The man squinted at her. “I’m afraid I can’t remember your surname-”
“Orovjek, Katya Orovjek- but everyone calls me Kat. I primarily deal with animal behaviours, but at the moment I feel like the on-site anthropologist.”
There were a few chuckles, except from a greasy-haired youngster who clearly didn’t get the joke.
Gregory and Worborne didn’t laugh, but unlike Charlie they’d understood her intentions- they were just the dour sort. Quarir gave Gregory a lethal look- Worborne was meant to be a sour-faced dullard, as they’d kidnapped the man and generally mistreated him- but Gregory was meant to be one of them.
“I’m Zichekoam,” Zyke shook her hand, praying that Quarir wouldn’t be stupid enough to make a scene, “but everyone calls me Zyke.”
“Zichekoam…” Kat rolled the name over her tongue. “That’s African, isn’t it?”
Zyke nodded, resorting to his well-rehearsed arsenal of lies. “Nigerian. I lived there before they started relocating us to the continent.”
“Zyke,” Kat’s memory twigged. “You’re the head of Grassy Knoll? I was sorry to hear about what happened-”
He shrugged. “Thanks, but it could’ve been far worse- most of us made it out.”
Gregory was about to say something, but Pyotr kicked him in the back of the leg. This uncharacteristic display of impatient violence left the Aegis leader speechless.
Zyke made a few quick fire introductions as Kat lead them to the upper level. “This is Zosia, Nuri, Charlie, Ruth, Struer, Yuza, Quarir and Gregory. Pyotr, I think, you already know.”
There was a chorus of vague “hi”s.
“This woman,” Zyke introduced her, oblivious to her discomfort over the compliments, “was responsible for the discovery of the Antlion’s pheromone sacs- she revolutionised the way we travelled the coast-”
“The Vorts were fully aware of the pheropod system,” Worborne snorted, somewhat nonplussed that the introductions had skipped him. “I don’t see why she should take any credit-”
“Regrettably, in ages gone by we were segregated and unable to share our knowledge effectively,” Sam interrupted. “Katya Orovjek’s research undid the divides, meaning that when we had the chance to coexist we possessed a mutual fact base.”
“That,” Nalore translated, “means shut up.”
It's good to see you like ML evilsloth: I always wonder how my original fiction will compare to my efforts in someone else's universe And now the moment I've been waiting for- the ultimate fanfic crossover! If you don't recognise the characters I've introduced, read the spoiler below- and shame on you!
It's Kat from tinyxipe's Desperate Measures! She makes an appearance alongside Sam the Vortigaunt as you should've noted- if you didn't realise that, go and read it- I demand it! And many thanks to the author in question for letting me use her creative property :E
Chapter 28: Vanguard
“Come in Overwatch- this is patrol four. Repeat- we’ve discovered an unlicensed vehicle on the sector outskirts.”
Jacques and Knowles didn’t really go by their names anymore- they lived by their precinct identifiers, aptitude ratings and wage levels. But they were just human- the Metrocops lacked the massively technological implants of the military transhumans.
They’d joined up for fair rations and total job security- both of them had once been factory workers for City 17’s once-flourishing automotive industry. Now every vehicle had been decommissioned except for those that the Combine had manufactured- everything else had been scrapped, probably ending up as some essential component in a pulse rifle. Any given vehicle would be “unlicensed”, if one discounted the hulking armoured automobiles the Overwatch favoured.
This car, however, was clearly custom-built- only the diesel engine appeared to be factory made. It was an off-road buggy- bare chassis, elongated air vents for use underwater- a scout vehicle stripped clean of all excess weight. It was spattered with blood stains- some the rusty red of men, others the fading yellow of Antlions.
“Repeat, Overwatch- vehicle matches description from Fortress Beta report,” Knowles continued talking calmly into his radio. “Requesting Scanners and Synth support.”
They hadn’t signed up for this- they weren’t, in actuality, particularly bad men. They enforced the Combine’s fascist laws to the letter, but they were never brutal, never unduly cruel to the civilian populace. They’d nodded along to the propaganda, once, merely hell-bent on finding a new proffesion; but over time they’d come to believe that the Union truly wanted what was best for mankind.
And now the damnable Resistance was trying to end it all. There had been heavy casualties on all sides- and while the pair was in no doubt as to who would win, they feared for their own lives: despite the increasing hostilities, they were equipped only with SMGs and basic mesh armour. If it hadn’t been for their squadron captain’s wrangling, they’d probably still be toting pistols.
“It’s no good,” Knowles terminated his connection. “I can’t get through to them. There’s some kind of interference.”
“Well, we can only hope this isn’t his car,” Jacques shuddered.
Freeman had driven a scout buggy of this kind before his bizarre disappearance- but a Dropship had abducted that abandoned car and impounded it. This was a different transport, but it belonged to a similarly destructive owner: it was said that a humanoid, in strange garb, had obliterated the forces stationed at three of Nova Prospekt’s outlying fortress precincts.
He was now thought to be systematically destroying the outposts surrounding City 17- leaving charred corpses and flaming garrisons in his wake. He could not be identified, and the Scanners had gathered no cohesive intelligence- but it went without saying that the mysterious wanderer was highly dangerous.
And now a car that could well be his was parked outside their perimeter defences…
“That’s my combustion-automotive, thank you very much.”
Knowles’s head snapped backwards with a sickening crunch, twisted by an arc of energy that crackled from out of nowhere.
Jacques turned, driven mad by fear, and looked into the blank white eyes of the sneering Zealot. The Arcadimaarian’s next gesture cleaved him in two, leaving two steaming halves to sizzle on the ground.
“Come in patrol four- this is the captaincy department. Do not attempt to apprehend the suspect- leave the area immediately and await backup-”
The Zealot glanced at the primitive communicator, and then crushed it effortlessly, sprinkling the shards on its former owner’s corpse.
Almost a mile away- atop the massive civil building that was now the Overwatch Nexus- Forty watched a lone vehicle circle the city, patiently trying to locate a gap in their defences.
He made a mental note to eviscerate the driver, and then followed his assigned unit into a Dropship’s transport bay.
---
The Vortigaunt turned away from whatever transdimensional conversation it was holding and addressed the group directly. “Pyotr reports that the oppressor’s elite soldiers are in pursuit.”
Kat nodded. “Do you still think it’s safe to collapse the tunnel, Sam?”
“It will not be safe for anyone still within its confines,” Sam closed his central eye in contemplation. “Nevertheless, if our allies can reach us in time, we can crush their pursuers with impunity.”
“Don’t we need it as an escape route? You know, to get to Stone Well-”
“Nah- the north-eastern tunnel’s safest. There’s a dozen bullsquid living down that way- if anything, Calhoun’ll be glad we did it.”
The two men chuckled and began setting parsimonious amounts of explosives on the sagging wooden shoring, preparing for the planned collapse as they had all agreed.
Kat sighed and rubbed some life into her pained eyes. She couldn’t remember their names- and although they probably couldn’t recall hers either, the fact bothered Kat. She prided herself on knowing much of the community- by title if not personally- and felt that it was a grim reminder of how hectic things had become that there were so many fresh recruits.
Of course they’d all prayed for that- but now that the Resistance had been flooded with raw human resources- a polite way, Barney had said, of calling them “clumsy civilians”- management had become hellish. Granted, that wasn’t Kat’s calling and never would be; but with so many converging on their position- from both outlying Resistance cells and purely civilian districts- the huge facility that they’d dubbed “Vanguard” had become a logistical nightmare.
They had supplies aplenty, and fortunately for every new face there was a hugely competent veteran like Barney- but it would never be easy.
Barney Calhoun- a Black Mesa survivor who now bore the rank of the Resistance’s commander-in-chief- had rallied every group towards freeing Eli Vance. Nova Prospekt had been crippled by Freeman- despite the man’s inexplicable departure- and with it one of the Combine’s biggest garrisons and most foreboding punishments had been banished from the City’s apprehensions.
But the push towards the Citadel had stalled- now they lay in weight within Vanguard, exchanging constant fire with the innumerable H-S choppers and Gunships the Combine threw at them. The Civil Protectorate had no wish to crush them just yet- they merely aimed to keep them busy while they dealt with the more urgent insurgencies closer to home.
Barney talked always of assaulting the Nexus- of opening the inner compound’s gate and disabling the suppressor unit that rained destructive fire down on anyone within a kilometre, and it was a vision they all shared- although not all of the Resistance shared his optimism, namely his heartfelt belief that Freeman would return again.
“All done,” said one of the nameless demolitionists.
“Yeah,” the other slapped his hands together theatrically, “if it’s all right with you Kat, we’ll just go back and-”
“I’ll be fine,” she assured them, vaguely guilty at the fact they recalled her forename, “Sam can always tell me what to do.”
“Indeed. We are always glad to render assistance.”
The two nodded gratefully and went towards the Vanguard’s “battlements”- the former processing plant’s rooftop, currently an explosion of improvised barricades. They took several stairways and passed dozens of busy rebels en route- Vanguard never slept.
Sam never slept- at least to Kat’s knowledge- and neither did she. But unlike the Vort, she needed sleep, and the constant combat was wearing her down. She stifled a yawn, and began thinking of whales. Big, tireless whales, majestic denizens of the deep. Although no doubt the Combine had butchered them all for organic ballast-
“We have arrived!” a Vort cried urgently, “Prepare your charges!”
Kat noted the two twists of wire that the men had left on the floor- she gripped them and prepared to act. “We’re ready!” she cried down the tunnel.
A large group- far bigger than she had been lead to expect- burst out of the shaft, followed by amplified shouts and bursts of pulse fire. Sam raised a hand, indicating that all were present, and she touched the two cables together- there was a spark of current and two dull thuds in the passage’s depths.
For a horrible moment it seemed the tunnel would remain intact- but with a cacophonous roar of pouring stone and sifting dust the entrance collapsed.
An Elite’s munition orb- trailing ineffable particles- zipped overhead and rebounded off some distant support girders before detonating. It caused a rusty portion of gantryway to collapse, but everyone was more preoccupied with what hadn’t made it inside- their relief was palpable.
“That was well planned,” breathed a tall man. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. I just triggered them- it was Sam’s idea.”
The Vort nodded modestly.
“You’re Katya, right?” The man squinted at her. “I’m afraid I can’t remember your surname-”
“Orovjek, Katya Orovjek- but everyone calls me Kat. I primarily deal with animal behaviours, but at the moment I feel like the on-site anthropologist.”
There were a few chuckles, except from a greasy-haired youngster who clearly didn’t get the joke.
Gregory and Worborne didn’t laugh, but unlike Charlie they’d understood her intentions- they were just the dour sort. Quarir gave Gregory a lethal look- Worborne was meant to be a sour-faced dullard, as they’d kidnapped the man and generally mistreated him- but Gregory was meant to be one of them.
“I’m Zichekoam,” Zyke shook her hand, praying that Quarir wouldn’t be stupid enough to make a scene, “but everyone calls me Zyke.”
“Zichekoam…” Kat rolled the name over her tongue. “That’s African, isn’t it?”
Zyke nodded, resorting to his well-rehearsed arsenal of lies. “Nigerian. I lived there before they started relocating us to the continent.”
“Zyke,” Kat’s memory twigged. “You’re the head of Grassy Knoll? I was sorry to hear about what happened-”
He shrugged. “Thanks, but it could’ve been far worse- most of us made it out.”
Gregory was about to say something, but Pyotr kicked him in the back of the leg. This uncharacteristic display of impatient violence left the Aegis leader speechless.
Zyke made a few quick fire introductions as Kat lead them to the upper level. “This is Zosia, Nuri, Charlie, Ruth, Struer, Yuza, Quarir and Gregory. Pyotr, I think, you already know.”
There was a chorus of vague “hi”s.
“This woman,” Zyke introduced her, oblivious to her discomfort over the compliments, “was responsible for the discovery of the Antlion’s pheromone sacs- she revolutionised the way we travelled the coast-”
“The Vorts were fully aware of the pheropod system,” Worborne snorted, somewhat nonplussed that the introductions had skipped him. “I don’t see why she should take any credit-”
“Regrettably, in ages gone by we were segregated and unable to share our knowledge effectively,” Sam interrupted. “Katya Orovjek’s research undid the divides, meaning that when we had the chance to coexist we possessed a mutual fact base.”
“That,” Nalore translated, “means shut up.”
tinyxipe
Newbie
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Yay!! I love it!
Great job. You captured her perfectly. I loved her discomfort at the compliments; that's exactly her.
I'm looking forward to seeing where this goes. I'm sure Kat will have some interesting opinions on Quarir. Once again, I'm so flattered that you decided to include one of my characters in MC.
Great job. You captured her perfectly. I loved her discomfort at the compliments; that's exactly her.
I'm looking forward to seeing where this goes. I'm sure Kat will have some interesting opinions on Quarir. Once again, I'm so flattered that you decided to include one of my characters in MC.
Sloth
Tank
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The awshens flow from Ebcrab's fingertips.
Keys tap, a legend unfolds.
Black Humor, so deep one could drown.
Inter-planetry Empires fight over a small piece of rock.
Maintonon's hand waves, Quarir shifts and follows
A small order, streched too far.
The Malgin Contingency forced into action
MC poems, on noes
** Sorry, got in that sort of mood **
Keys tap, a legend unfolds.
Black Humor, so deep one could drown.
Inter-planetry Empires fight over a small piece of rock.
Maintonon's hand waves, Quarir shifts and follows
A small order, streched too far.
The Malgin Contingency forced into action
MC poems, on noes
** Sorry, got in that sort of mood **
Edcrab
Veteran Incompetent
- Joined
- Aug 3, 2003
- Messages
- 2,388
- Reaction score
- 0
It's nice to see a character like Kat being appreciated Thanks again tinyxipe!
Rounding the chapter off- nothing much happens here, its mostly scene setting... but there'll be some interesting developments in number 28, I promise
“You collapsed the Stone Well tunnel?”
Kat nodded. “Yes- it was the only way to stop-”
“I did not authorise that! Now the residents of Stone Well are stranded-”
“The residents of Stone Well,” Zyke explained tiredly, “are currently zombified freaks. The Combine have flattened the place with mortars.”
“And who are you to interrupt me?” The man whirled on Zyke, who stood his ground. Dasther wasn’t particularly large, but he was vehement and twitchy- an angry, angry person, all bagged eyes and unkempt hair.
“I’m Zichekoam- the head of the Grassy Knoll cell. And so if you want to buy into this ‘rank’ thing, then I’ve every right to interrupt you- especially when you’re talking absolute shit. And you are?”
“Julian Dasther-” the man remembered himself, “-and this is my base. This base hasn’t been destroyed because of sheer negligence! When here you’ll obey my rules- and you will not ruin perfectly serviceable escape routes-”
“Stone Well was devastated… and there was a squadron of Elites chasing our newest arrivals. Collapsing the tunnel was our only option,” Kat said firmly. “There’s no point arguing about it.”
“You can not tell me what to do-”
“Actually, Dasther, I rather think I can and should.” Kat returned his frown. “This hierarchy you take so much pride in is inspired by the military- but I’m not a military woman. I’m part of the science team- you know, the core group essential to our efforts? Contains the likes of Dr Vance and Dr Kleiner? If I deem something necessary, then it is necessary. And that’s the end of the matter.”
Dasther gave them a look of foul intent- and he had venom enough for them all- then slinked off.
Zyke was impressed. “Are you really his superior?”
Kat smiled humourlessly. “Yes and no. Dasther is near-delusional- the only person he doesn’t scream at is Barney- but he listens to authority if he thinks he hears it. I suppose I am more scientific than military, but I certainly don’t hold as much sway as someone like Dr Kleiner.”
Nalore watched the retreating figure cautiously- Dasther really gave the impression that he could spin round and go for their throats at any given moment. “Not a nice guy. Is he really in charge of the base?”
“No, Calhoun is the closest thing to a leader here- Vanguard is just a big resupply base we can all use when necessary. A safe spot in this hellish warzone we’ve brought on.” Kat pushed aside a rusting door.
Nuri followed after her. “You don’t sound like you approve.”
“Well?” Kat matched her gaze. “Do you? It’s meant to be an uprising, but we have people looting storehouses and then just going home. The other day we had civilians steal one of our ration crates- we’re going to be our own undoing unless everyone helps us.”
“She’s right,” Zyke admitted, sounding as if he was apologising for the whole of the human race, “most of the outlying cities aren’t interested in freeing Dr Vance. City 17 is the Combine’s core settlement- but when they can call on reinforcements across the board, well, it’s simple.”
Kat sighed and waved for them to be seated. “I believe we’re doing the right thing, really I do- but if we’re not all doing the right thing, then this is just an exercise in futility. Please, sit down.”
The three gratefully accepted the folding chairs- they were somewhat incongruous furniture, as they were carefully arranged around a massive oak table. The briefing room itself- or they assumed as much, as it was packed in maps, pin boards and easels- was a many-windowed observation office, carefully positioned between the gantry ways so as to have the best possible view of what had once been a factory floor.
“We’ll have to wait here,” Kat continued, “I’d try and find Carns myself, but he gave express orders that no one should risk leaving the base unnecessarily.” She smiled slightly. “I’m not averse to taking orders if they actually make good sense.”
Quarir squinted. “Carns?”
“He’s an actual soldier- unlike Dasther,” Kat made an expression of disapproval when she mentioned the man’s name. “We rescued Carns from the local CP station- apparently he was due for processing. He joined us on the spot- and it didn’t take long for Barney to promote him. He’s one of our best operatives, and since Calhoun’s not with us right now he’ll have to authorise your presence.” Kat absently cleared away some documentation from the table. “Sam told me about where you’ve been. It sounds like you have quite the tale to tell.”
Nalore stiffened, but Zyke seemed perfectly relaxed. “Most of it was just luck,” Zyke told her, “and we’re thankful for that. I’m just hoping it lasts for us.”
What does she know? Quarir shrieked inwardly. What has Sam told her…?
Sam hasn’t told her anything, Zyke chastised him, Pyotr informed me that the Vorts just gave her a generic tale of escape. Most of its true- they’ve just juggled with why we’ve done what we’ve done.
Kat started talking again and Zyke withdrew- the severing of the telepathic link made Quarir suppress a shudder. He’d never get used to it- not when it was a computer doing it, not when it was a friend doing it, never.
“Well, hopefully it’ll brush off on us,” she continued. “I hope you don’t mind- I’m sorry about splitting you up, but far more of you turned up than I had expected…”
Zyke waved a hand and told her it was fine. She’d led them to the dormitory- which was an enormous chamber with a carpet of mattresses and lockers- and politely requested that they all stayed there. The other residents had lapsed into silence, and they’d spent an agonising ten minutes being stared at.
Soon afterwards they were rescued by Kat’s reappearance- but she only wanted Zyke and two others. Zyke had selected Quarir and Nuri; Quarir because he was another Domarian- he wouldn’t have invited Yuza for all the artefacts in Ucelsia- and Nuri because she was one of the only natives he trusted, and the most informed of them at that.
“I don’t want to sound prying, but we really need a little background. Nothing detailed- just enough to know about where we’d be best assigning you.” Kat produced a pencil, and for a moment she looked like a concentrating psychiatrist. “Experience, skills… that sort of thing.”
Zyke shrugged. “I was just a labourer back in Nigeria- and after the Resistance sprung me loose I grabbed a gun and just started fighting. I learnt pretty quick.”
Kat smiled- but it was an odd smile, as if she knew something was not quite right. Zyke cursed himself for sounding too eager. “That’s fine,” she assured him, “but I was really wondering more about your friends- I’m sure they’ve had combat experience, but if they wanted I’m sure there’re support positions open-”
“Well, Zosia was a student who’s become a damn good mechanic,” Zyke hurried on to hide his inner turmoil, “and Gregory, Ruth and Struer were all drivers for the Aegis patrol- which died with Grassy Knoll, as I’m sure you know. But I’m certain they can all use a gun. I’m not sure about Worborne,” he lied diplomatically, “as I haven’t known him very long. And Quarir-”
“I can talk, thanks,” Nalore reminded him. “I’m just a run-of-the-mill citizen. Like Zyke I got caught up in things, but I’m pretty handy in a tight spot.”
Nuri nodded. “Yes- I bumped into him back at City 11. The CPs arrested us and we managed to escape the demolition. Things have just unfolded from there…”
Kat nodded herself, although she made no effort to write any of it down. “I see you’ve all brought your own equipment- and reinforcements are always welcome. I’m positive Vanguard will do far better with you. But if you ever feel you need to have a less active position, then-”
“Hey, what’s with this?” Nalore’s eyebrow twitched shiftily. “You trying to put us off joining for some reason?”
“Not exactly,” Kat licked her lips. “I was hoping one of you would be a doctor- we have a shortage of medics here- but mostly I just want to make one thing clear- if you’re on the frontline, it won’t be easy. If you’re on one of our excursions, it’ll be even harder. People like Dasther would have me act like a recruitment officer- grabbing everyone I can and keeping them in the dark- but I think people need to know the risks… the Combine are always-”
“We know the risks,” said Quarir.
“I know,” Kat smiled- and this time it looked genuine.
There was a rapping on the door, and then a Vortigaunt head was thrust inside. “The officers are requesting a meeting in the dormitory,” said Sam, “We are to inform you of these proceedings.” The ‘Gaunt turned directly to Zyke. “Zichekoam- your presence is particularly desired.”
Zyke nodded and left the room hurriedly- almost as if, Quarir thought, he knew what they wanted him for. Nuri glanced at Kat once, as if she too wondered how much the woman suspected, then went out.
Kat looked across the table at Quarir, and suddenly the Domarian felt very exposed. “Quarir Nalore, isn’t that your name?”
“Yeah,” Quarir replied cautiously, noisily scraping his chair backward.
“That’s an Arabic name, isn’t it?”
“Uh,” Quarir paused for a century and a half, “yeah.”
“Hmm.” Kat escorted him outside.
Thanks again tinyxipe!Rounding the chapter off- nothing much happens here, its mostly scene setting... but there'll be some interesting developments in number 28, I promise
“You collapsed the Stone Well tunnel?”
Kat nodded. “Yes- it was the only way to stop-”
“I did not authorise that! Now the residents of Stone Well are stranded-”
“The residents of Stone Well,” Zyke explained tiredly, “are currently zombified freaks. The Combine have flattened the place with mortars.”
“And who are you to interrupt me?” The man whirled on Zyke, who stood his ground. Dasther wasn’t particularly large, but he was vehement and twitchy- an angry, angry person, all bagged eyes and unkempt hair.
“I’m Zichekoam- the head of the Grassy Knoll cell. And so if you want to buy into this ‘rank’ thing, then I’ve every right to interrupt you- especially when you’re talking absolute shit. And you are?”
“Julian Dasther-” the man remembered himself, “-and this is my base. This base hasn’t been destroyed because of sheer negligence! When here you’ll obey my rules- and you will not ruin perfectly serviceable escape routes-”
“Stone Well was devastated… and there was a squadron of Elites chasing our newest arrivals. Collapsing the tunnel was our only option,” Kat said firmly. “There’s no point arguing about it.”
“You can not tell me what to do-”
“Actually, Dasther, I rather think I can and should.” Kat returned his frown. “This hierarchy you take so much pride in is inspired by the military- but I’m not a military woman. I’m part of the science team- you know, the core group essential to our efforts? Contains the likes of Dr Vance and Dr Kleiner? If I deem something necessary, then it is necessary. And that’s the end of the matter.”
Dasther gave them a look of foul intent- and he had venom enough for them all- then slinked off.
Zyke was impressed. “Are you really his superior?”
Kat smiled humourlessly. “Yes and no. Dasther is near-delusional- the only person he doesn’t scream at is Barney- but he listens to authority if he thinks he hears it. I suppose I am more scientific than military, but I certainly don’t hold as much sway as someone like Dr Kleiner.”
Nalore watched the retreating figure cautiously- Dasther really gave the impression that he could spin round and go for their throats at any given moment. “Not a nice guy. Is he really in charge of the base?”
“No, Calhoun is the closest thing to a leader here- Vanguard is just a big resupply base we can all use when necessary. A safe spot in this hellish warzone we’ve brought on.” Kat pushed aside a rusting door.
Nuri followed after her. “You don’t sound like you approve.”
“Well?” Kat matched her gaze. “Do you? It’s meant to be an uprising, but we have people looting storehouses and then just going home. The other day we had civilians steal one of our ration crates- we’re going to be our own undoing unless everyone helps us.”
“She’s right,” Zyke admitted, sounding as if he was apologising for the whole of the human race, “most of the outlying cities aren’t interested in freeing Dr Vance. City 17 is the Combine’s core settlement- but when they can call on reinforcements across the board, well, it’s simple.”
Kat sighed and waved for them to be seated. “I believe we’re doing the right thing, really I do- but if we’re not all doing the right thing, then this is just an exercise in futility. Please, sit down.”
The three gratefully accepted the folding chairs- they were somewhat incongruous furniture, as they were carefully arranged around a massive oak table. The briefing room itself- or they assumed as much, as it was packed in maps, pin boards and easels- was a many-windowed observation office, carefully positioned between the gantry ways so as to have the best possible view of what had once been a factory floor.
“We’ll have to wait here,” Kat continued, “I’d try and find Carns myself, but he gave express orders that no one should risk leaving the base unnecessarily.” She smiled slightly. “I’m not averse to taking orders if they actually make good sense.”
Quarir squinted. “Carns?”
“He’s an actual soldier- unlike Dasther,” Kat made an expression of disapproval when she mentioned the man’s name. “We rescued Carns from the local CP station- apparently he was due for processing. He joined us on the spot- and it didn’t take long for Barney to promote him. He’s one of our best operatives, and since Calhoun’s not with us right now he’ll have to authorise your presence.” Kat absently cleared away some documentation from the table. “Sam told me about where you’ve been. It sounds like you have quite the tale to tell.”
Nalore stiffened, but Zyke seemed perfectly relaxed. “Most of it was just luck,” Zyke told her, “and we’re thankful for that. I’m just hoping it lasts for us.”
What does she know? Quarir shrieked inwardly. What has Sam told her…?
Sam hasn’t told her anything, Zyke chastised him, Pyotr informed me that the Vorts just gave her a generic tale of escape. Most of its true- they’ve just juggled with why we’ve done what we’ve done.
Kat started talking again and Zyke withdrew- the severing of the telepathic link made Quarir suppress a shudder. He’d never get used to it- not when it was a computer doing it, not when it was a friend doing it, never.
“Well, hopefully it’ll brush off on us,” she continued. “I hope you don’t mind- I’m sorry about splitting you up, but far more of you turned up than I had expected…”
Zyke waved a hand and told her it was fine. She’d led them to the dormitory- which was an enormous chamber with a carpet of mattresses and lockers- and politely requested that they all stayed there. The other residents had lapsed into silence, and they’d spent an agonising ten minutes being stared at.
Soon afterwards they were rescued by Kat’s reappearance- but she only wanted Zyke and two others. Zyke had selected Quarir and Nuri; Quarir because he was another Domarian- he wouldn’t have invited Yuza for all the artefacts in Ucelsia- and Nuri because she was one of the only natives he trusted, and the most informed of them at that.
“I don’t want to sound prying, but we really need a little background. Nothing detailed- just enough to know about where we’d be best assigning you.” Kat produced a pencil, and for a moment she looked like a concentrating psychiatrist. “Experience, skills… that sort of thing.”
Zyke shrugged. “I was just a labourer back in Nigeria- and after the Resistance sprung me loose I grabbed a gun and just started fighting. I learnt pretty quick.”
Kat smiled- but it was an odd smile, as if she knew something was not quite right. Zyke cursed himself for sounding too eager. “That’s fine,” she assured him, “but I was really wondering more about your friends- I’m sure they’ve had combat experience, but if they wanted I’m sure there’re support positions open-”
“Well, Zosia was a student who’s become a damn good mechanic,” Zyke hurried on to hide his inner turmoil, “and Gregory, Ruth and Struer were all drivers for the Aegis patrol- which died with Grassy Knoll, as I’m sure you know. But I’m certain they can all use a gun. I’m not sure about Worborne,” he lied diplomatically, “as I haven’t known him very long. And Quarir-”
“I can talk, thanks,” Nalore reminded him. “I’m just a run-of-the-mill citizen. Like Zyke I got caught up in things, but I’m pretty handy in a tight spot.”
Nuri nodded. “Yes- I bumped into him back at City 11. The CPs arrested us and we managed to escape the demolition. Things have just unfolded from there…”
Kat nodded herself, although she made no effort to write any of it down. “I see you’ve all brought your own equipment- and reinforcements are always welcome. I’m positive Vanguard will do far better with you. But if you ever feel you need to have a less active position, then-”
“Hey, what’s with this?” Nalore’s eyebrow twitched shiftily. “You trying to put us off joining for some reason?”
“Not exactly,” Kat licked her lips. “I was hoping one of you would be a doctor- we have a shortage of medics here- but mostly I just want to make one thing clear- if you’re on the frontline, it won’t be easy. If you’re on one of our excursions, it’ll be even harder. People like Dasther would have me act like a recruitment officer- grabbing everyone I can and keeping them in the dark- but I think people need to know the risks… the Combine are always-”
“We know the risks,” said Quarir.
“I know,” Kat smiled- and this time it looked genuine.
There was a rapping on the door, and then a Vortigaunt head was thrust inside. “The officers are requesting a meeting in the dormitory,” said Sam, “We are to inform you of these proceedings.” The ‘Gaunt turned directly to Zyke. “Zichekoam- your presence is particularly desired.”
Zyke nodded and left the room hurriedly- almost as if, Quarir thought, he knew what they wanted him for. Nuri glanced at Kat once, as if she too wondered how much the woman suspected, then went out.
Kat looked across the table at Quarir, and suddenly the Domarian felt very exposed. “Quarir Nalore, isn’t that your name?”
“Yeah,” Quarir replied cautiously, noisily scraping his chair backward.
“That’s an Arabic name, isn’t it?”
“Uh,” Quarir paused for a century and a half, “yeah.”
“Hmm.” Kat escorted him outside.
Steel.Inferno
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I could've sworn Kat inconviently died... oh well
Bob_Marley
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Tis marvellos!
Edcrab
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Ah, well, you're not alone Infern0- a lot of people, myself included, first assumed that Kat had lost her life during the incident in the mines- but now we know better! Gotta love epilogues!
Whoops, my writing sensors are playing up... MUST DESTROY HUMANITY! Uh, I mean, MUST WRITE FANFICTION!
Gotta love epilogues!Whoops, my writing sensors are playing up... MUST DESTROY HUMANITY! Uh, I mean, MUST WRITE FANFICTION!
Edcrab
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I warned you all! Incoming...!
Quarir wasn’t sure what he’d expected- on the one hand this was a combat situation, but on the other it was a combat situation on a different planet and between cultures remarkably different to any he’d encountered before. So he wasn’t entirely surprised to see that the “meeting” appeared to consist of rows of officers shouting at each other from the gantry ways and demanding reports from their subordinates on the factory floor.
Nalore felt more than a little discomforted- he was on one of the higher catwalks, and a hundred men, women and Vortigaunts milled around beneath them.
Beside him, Zyke calmly yelled- one of his many talents- and corrected one of the resident Vanguard leaders.
“No,” the Rot was saying, “Grassy Knoll was eliminated by Gunships with Dropship support. At no point did they use mortars- any reports you heard must have been inspired by misidentified Hunter Seeker rockets.”
“They’re using a lot less choppers nowadays,” someone else mused from across the way.
“That’s because we’re blowing them up,” someone responded. “But they seem to have a limitless supply of Gunships- we still don’t know for sure whether they’re being manufactured, portalled in or both.”
Kat genteelly tapped Zyke’s shoulder, and pointed to the current speaker. “That’s Carns- he must have got back recently.”
“Carns set this gathering in motion,” Sam elaborated, nodding knowingly.
Losing interest in the rebels’ self-congratulatory talk of rotorcraft downing, Quarir sidled up to Nuri, trying to put as much distance between himself and Kat as possible.
“Do I look Arabic?” he hissed.
Nuri, who had been slumped across the railings, sleepily counting the massed Resistance members, was shocked. “What?”
“Do I look Arabic?” Quarir repeated insistently.
She frowned. “Is this some kind of reference to the fact that Zosia keeps saying Nuri is an Arabic name-?”
“No,” Quarir snapped, “Kat asked me if Quarir Nalore was an Arabic name. Do I look it?”
Kat paused and examined Quarir critically- she realised she’d never bothered assessing the man’s face before. “Well,” she began, “you’re quite tanned and there’s something about your eyes… but no, not really…”
“Damn it,” Quarir ground his teeth. “I think she might be on to us-”
“The Quarir Nalore would be best served if he ceased his worrisome musing,” Sam informed him, appearing behind the pair with sudden, startling stealth. “The discussion has turned to more contemporary matters.”
Nalore guiltily returned to his position beside Zyke, and went back to watching the debate.
“That cinches it,” said yet another rebel who no one had bothered introducing them to, “the Combine are advancing. They’re bringing heavy mortar support to City 17, as we always suspected-”
“It’s not a certainty,” said another, “they’ve kept to attrition thus far, sticking to aerial craft-”
“Not for long,” Carns made a slashing motion, like the offspring of an angry politician and a butcher. “We know they’ve been suppressing City 9- but now that 9 is just scorched earth, they’re moving the Mortar Synth platoons back our way. They’ve cleaned up our neighbours, and now the Combine must have decided that they’re going to have to sacrifice a few buildings to stop us- Stone Well was just the beginning.”
There was a lot of ominous muttering- Quarir felt that this was, in fact, a good sign- Carns had their attention.
“Well?” said a perpetually livid voice that Nalore recognised as Dasther’s, “this uprising is down to Calhoun- and you supported him! If we’re going to be crushed by massed Synth, then it’s your fault!”
“This isn’t an uprising!” Zyke bellowed, “This is just an assault- less than a quarter of the population is on the move! Together we’d outnumber the Combine and flatten the bastards, but like this we’ll always be on the defensive-”
“What the populace needs is an example,” said a woman with a soft, lilting voice- by her arm band, she was one of the medics that Kat was seeking so urgently. “If they feel there’s nothing to fight for-”
“Freeman vanished,” Dasther snarled at her, “he’s no good to us. He pops up and Vance gets captured- coincidence? I think not-”
“That was because of Mossman’s treachery, and we know it was her and her alone,” Carns snapped. “If it wasn’t for Freeman taking out the Nova Prospekt garrison, we’d be swamped with troops. But I don’t think Amina was referring to Freeman… I think she has made a very sound point.”
“You think we should lead by example? We’ve done plenty,” someone said defensively.
“He’s not questioning our past actions,” a large man interrupted, but he gave Carns a look that implied he’d be immensely displeased if he was trying to cast aspersions on their achievements, “we’ve done all we can-”
“Even though he and Calhoun seem to chase after supply caches instead of solid objectives.”
“But we need to consider what needs doing,” Carns pointedly ignored Dasther’s sniping. “We’re going to have to evacuate- the moment the Synth are in position, Vanguard will crumble under a hundred mortars. Doctor Werner?”
The big rebel nodded- Nalore certainly would’ve have guessed the bear-like man was a doctor. “It’s safe to assume that we won’t be facing a lone Synth,” he said with a strong accent that Quarir had no hope of pinpointing, “in all their other deployments, the Combine have crushed Resistance cells with every force at their disposal. If they send Mortar Synths, they’ll send enough to level the whole of Vanguard. That’s a fact.”
“And it’s nothing new,” said the strangely defensive woman, “it’s logical that we’d evacuate if the Synth are on the warpath-”
“Yeah, but the Combine expect us to be in here, oblivious to what’s coming,” Carns told her. “They underestimate the Vort network.”
“We do our best,” Sam nodded, and Kat nudged the ‘Gaunt playfully.
“Well, how does that help anything?” An increasingly agitated, elderly rebel was clearly tiring of the proceedings.
There was a keening in the air- the distinctive drone of a Gunship. To Quarir’s abject astonishment, the massed rebels looked up, noted the absence of cries for reinforcements, and then went back to their meeting, talking over the gunfire.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Carns swung his arms out expressively, “This’ll be a perfect counter attack. The Mortar Synths are trudging towards us, and we ambush them, take them by surprise, and cripple them. If that’s not inspirational, I don’t know what is!”
There were two rockets fired in quick succession, and the mournful wailing of a flying Synth, but they were interspersed with much in the way of predictable gasps and sneering contempt.
“No one’s ever killed a Mortar Synth before,” said the woman Nalore had started to think of as Miss Cynical.
“No one’s ever tried,” Zyke snorted so loudly that he even outdid a third rocket.
“That’ll be because it’s impossible,” Dasther croaked, “they’re huge and they’re always well-defended-”
“Like Striders?” Carns grinned triumphantly. “People said they were indestructible, but we’ve taken them out before.”
Several dozen pairs of eyes- including the more prominent speakers- turned toward Quarir and the group, and then turned away, talking among themselves. Quarir caught choice snippets like “that’s true” and “definitely a precedent, then”.
Nalore shivered under the attention, and leant closer to Zyke. “What was that about?”
“If you believe the rumours,” the Rot began conspiratorially, “Katya took down a Strider single handed.”
“What?”
“Oh, she had plenty of help really- but they just distracted the Strider. It’s said that she ran up, placed a grenade right on its leg joint… and it collapsed under its own weight.”
Quarir leant further forward, to spy Kat further along the gantry. She was actually starting to blush from all the implied attention- and then Quarir guiltily realised that she’d probably overheard and he’d contributed to it. She definitely struck him as the reluctant hero-
“Reluctant heroes are a valuable commodity,’a voice interjected suddenly. “You would be amazed by what they are capable of- although you should know, Nalore.”
“Maintonon?!”
“You thought I had severed contact because you are foolishly acting without my instruction or authorisation? How prosaic- I was hoping that you had begun to learn.”
“What do you want?” Quarir hated forming sentences in his mind- it felt unnatural to him in even the most banal circumstances- so he was edging away from the group and whispering to the mental intruder that he alone could hear.
“Very little- I merely wanted to wish you good luck, Nalore. Be careful- you are needed.”
“Good luck with what?”
“The suicide mission Zichekoam just volunteered you all for.” Maintonon’s presence retreated.
Quarir’s head snapped back up. People were saying stupidly valiant things along the lines of “count me in” and socialist mantras about the needs of the many- and Quarir recalled the dialogue he’d heard almost subconsciously- a rousing speech from Carns, which included words like “danger” and “Mortar Synth”…
Zyke recognised his expression. “You wanted to make a difference,” he said simply. “Besides, we’re made of far tougher things than these people.”
“Some of us are,” Nuri chided him.
“Well, I didn’t volunteer you-”
“You should’ve. I’m coming with you.”
“Uh,” said Quarir.
“As am I,” said Pyotr, appearing from nowhere, “I can tell that Quarir Nalore will require some spiritual guidance.”
“Oh, hell,” said Quarir.
“Or sedatives,” Zyke amended, “it’ll help a lot if you’ve got some sedatives.”
Above them all, a Gunship’s mournful death cry ended with a ton of Synth crashing to the ground.
Chapter 29: The Push
Quarir wasn’t sure what he’d expected- on the one hand this was a combat situation, but on the other it was a combat situation on a different planet and between cultures remarkably different to any he’d encountered before. So he wasn’t entirely surprised to see that the “meeting” appeared to consist of rows of officers shouting at each other from the gantry ways and demanding reports from their subordinates on the factory floor.
Nalore felt more than a little discomforted- he was on one of the higher catwalks, and a hundred men, women and Vortigaunts milled around beneath them.
Beside him, Zyke calmly yelled- one of his many talents- and corrected one of the resident Vanguard leaders.
“No,” the Rot was saying, “Grassy Knoll was eliminated by Gunships with Dropship support. At no point did they use mortars- any reports you heard must have been inspired by misidentified Hunter Seeker rockets.”
“They’re using a lot less choppers nowadays,” someone else mused from across the way.
“That’s because we’re blowing them up,” someone responded. “But they seem to have a limitless supply of Gunships- we still don’t know for sure whether they’re being manufactured, portalled in or both.”
Kat genteelly tapped Zyke’s shoulder, and pointed to the current speaker. “That’s Carns- he must have got back recently.”
“Carns set this gathering in motion,” Sam elaborated, nodding knowingly.
Losing interest in the rebels’ self-congratulatory talk of rotorcraft downing, Quarir sidled up to Nuri, trying to put as much distance between himself and Kat as possible.
“Do I look Arabic?” he hissed.
Nuri, who had been slumped across the railings, sleepily counting the massed Resistance members, was shocked. “What?”
“Do I look Arabic?” Quarir repeated insistently.
She frowned. “Is this some kind of reference to the fact that Zosia keeps saying Nuri is an Arabic name-?”
“No,” Quarir snapped, “Kat asked me if Quarir Nalore was an Arabic name. Do I look it?”
Kat paused and examined Quarir critically- she realised she’d never bothered assessing the man’s face before. “Well,” she began, “you’re quite tanned and there’s something about your eyes… but no, not really…”
“Damn it,” Quarir ground his teeth. “I think she might be on to us-”
“The Quarir Nalore would be best served if he ceased his worrisome musing,” Sam informed him, appearing behind the pair with sudden, startling stealth. “The discussion has turned to more contemporary matters.”
Nalore guiltily returned to his position beside Zyke, and went back to watching the debate.
“That cinches it,” said yet another rebel who no one had bothered introducing them to, “the Combine are advancing. They’re bringing heavy mortar support to City 17, as we always suspected-”
“It’s not a certainty,” said another, “they’ve kept to attrition thus far, sticking to aerial craft-”
“Not for long,” Carns made a slashing motion, like the offspring of an angry politician and a butcher. “We know they’ve been suppressing City 9- but now that 9 is just scorched earth, they’re moving the Mortar Synth platoons back our way. They’ve cleaned up our neighbours, and now the Combine must have decided that they’re going to have to sacrifice a few buildings to stop us- Stone Well was just the beginning.”
There was a lot of ominous muttering- Quarir felt that this was, in fact, a good sign- Carns had their attention.
“Well?” said a perpetually livid voice that Nalore recognised as Dasther’s, “this uprising is down to Calhoun- and you supported him! If we’re going to be crushed by massed Synth, then it’s your fault!”
“This isn’t an uprising!” Zyke bellowed, “This is just an assault- less than a quarter of the population is on the move! Together we’d outnumber the Combine and flatten the bastards, but like this we’ll always be on the defensive-”
“What the populace needs is an example,” said a woman with a soft, lilting voice- by her arm band, she was one of the medics that Kat was seeking so urgently. “If they feel there’s nothing to fight for-”
“Freeman vanished,” Dasther snarled at her, “he’s no good to us. He pops up and Vance gets captured- coincidence? I think not-”
“That was because of Mossman’s treachery, and we know it was her and her alone,” Carns snapped. “If it wasn’t for Freeman taking out the Nova Prospekt garrison, we’d be swamped with troops. But I don’t think Amina was referring to Freeman… I think she has made a very sound point.”
“You think we should lead by example? We’ve done plenty,” someone said defensively.
“He’s not questioning our past actions,” a large man interrupted, but he gave Carns a look that implied he’d be immensely displeased if he was trying to cast aspersions on their achievements, “we’ve done all we can-”
“Even though he and Calhoun seem to chase after supply caches instead of solid objectives.”
“But we need to consider what needs doing,” Carns pointedly ignored Dasther’s sniping. “We’re going to have to evacuate- the moment the Synth are in position, Vanguard will crumble under a hundred mortars. Doctor Werner?”
The big rebel nodded- Nalore certainly would’ve have guessed the bear-like man was a doctor. “It’s safe to assume that we won’t be facing a lone Synth,” he said with a strong accent that Quarir had no hope of pinpointing, “in all their other deployments, the Combine have crushed Resistance cells with every force at their disposal. If they send Mortar Synths, they’ll send enough to level the whole of Vanguard. That’s a fact.”
“And it’s nothing new,” said the strangely defensive woman, “it’s logical that we’d evacuate if the Synth are on the warpath-”
“Yeah, but the Combine expect us to be in here, oblivious to what’s coming,” Carns told her. “They underestimate the Vort network.”
“We do our best,” Sam nodded, and Kat nudged the ‘Gaunt playfully.
“Well, how does that help anything?” An increasingly agitated, elderly rebel was clearly tiring of the proceedings.
There was a keening in the air- the distinctive drone of a Gunship. To Quarir’s abject astonishment, the massed rebels looked up, noted the absence of cries for reinforcements, and then went back to their meeting, talking over the gunfire.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Carns swung his arms out expressively, “This’ll be a perfect counter attack. The Mortar Synths are trudging towards us, and we ambush them, take them by surprise, and cripple them. If that’s not inspirational, I don’t know what is!”
There were two rockets fired in quick succession, and the mournful wailing of a flying Synth, but they were interspersed with much in the way of predictable gasps and sneering contempt.
“No one’s ever killed a Mortar Synth before,” said the woman Nalore had started to think of as Miss Cynical.
“No one’s ever tried,” Zyke snorted so loudly that he even outdid a third rocket.
“That’ll be because it’s impossible,” Dasther croaked, “they’re huge and they’re always well-defended-”
“Like Striders?” Carns grinned triumphantly. “People said they were indestructible, but we’ve taken them out before.”
Several dozen pairs of eyes- including the more prominent speakers- turned toward Quarir and the group, and then turned away, talking among themselves. Quarir caught choice snippets like “that’s true” and “definitely a precedent, then”.
Nalore shivered under the attention, and leant closer to Zyke. “What was that about?”
“If you believe the rumours,” the Rot began conspiratorially, “Katya took down a Strider single handed.”
“What?”
“Oh, she had plenty of help really- but they just distracted the Strider. It’s said that she ran up, placed a grenade right on its leg joint… and it collapsed under its own weight.”
Quarir leant further forward, to spy Kat further along the gantry. She was actually starting to blush from all the implied attention- and then Quarir guiltily realised that she’d probably overheard and he’d contributed to it. She definitely struck him as the reluctant hero-
“Reluctant heroes are a valuable commodity,’a voice interjected suddenly. “You would be amazed by what they are capable of- although you should know, Nalore.”
“Maintonon?!”
“You thought I had severed contact because you are foolishly acting without my instruction or authorisation? How prosaic- I was hoping that you had begun to learn.”
“What do you want?” Quarir hated forming sentences in his mind- it felt unnatural to him in even the most banal circumstances- so he was edging away from the group and whispering to the mental intruder that he alone could hear.
“Very little- I merely wanted to wish you good luck, Nalore. Be careful- you are needed.”
“Good luck with what?”
“The suicide mission Zichekoam just volunteered you all for.” Maintonon’s presence retreated.
Quarir’s head snapped back up. People were saying stupidly valiant things along the lines of “count me in” and socialist mantras about the needs of the many- and Quarir recalled the dialogue he’d heard almost subconsciously- a rousing speech from Carns, which included words like “danger” and “Mortar Synth”…
Zyke recognised his expression. “You wanted to make a difference,” he said simply. “Besides, we’re made of far tougher things than these people.”
“Some of us are,” Nuri chided him.
“Well, I didn’t volunteer you-”
“You should’ve. I’m coming with you.”
“Uh,” said Quarir.
“As am I,” said Pyotr, appearing from nowhere, “I can tell that Quarir Nalore will require some spiritual guidance.”
“Oh, hell,” said Quarir.
“Or sedatives,” Zyke amended, “it’ll help a lot if you’ve got some sedatives.”
Above them all, a Gunship’s mournful death cry ended with a ton of Synth crashing to the ground.
Steel.Inferno
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Bah Edcrab, I used to check twice a week or so and be pleasantly surprised to see a new chapter, now I'm back to five times a day like I did when tinyxipe and you both had stories going.
Bob_Marley
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Awsome as ever
