Post by bluesnailok on Feb 4, 2022 22:01:26 GMT
The wind was whistling through the trees of such a stormy night on Natar. A seemingly endless shower of rain was barely mitigated into its bombardment upon the ground by the forest that skirted the winding road towards the Manor. The dark clouds overhead blotted out the dusk sun and left the country in a dreary grey that blanketed the wet, muddy fields that the lorry traveled past. Far from an extravagant ceremony, the freelancer that these Telirans commoners had sent for was silently sat in the back of what could only be described as a military truck. Its cloth canopy bellowed and flapped in such rough weather and speed as though the entire thing would fly off at any moment. While the roaring of its diesel engine was silenced only by the sinister grumbling of the storm clouds above which barked with the mighty crackle of lightning almost every minute.
This bitter welcome by the weather to the estate of this freelancer’s paymaster only began to end as the vehicle winded down the road that circled the front of the palatial building. The terraformed fields that surrounded it were filled with beds of fragrant flowers, old orchards and babbling brooks which seemed to gush with the draining rainwater that flooded into them. If it weren’t for the dull tint that these clouds above layered upon the land one might’ve been tempted to go through a stroll through such beautiful landscape; yet every single field was sculpted and terraformed, not left to the agents of chance and wilderness. The truck finally came to a halt, creating a hiss as it tore through the layer of water until it had stopped.
Before the manor climbed a flight of ancient, carved steps, at the top of which stood a single figure who was undoubtedly the man who had invited the Echotian. The Teliran stood significantly shorter than his hired counterpart. The silhouette of the young aristocrat clutched a curling cane within one hand and drenched journal within the other, which he held close to his heart. His patterned knee-length coat was made of obviously fine fabrics, breeches and a dark blue waistcoat, all of which were made of soft, silky custom-made materials. Protruding from his collar came a plume of dark cravat that hid much of the black stock which circled his neck. All of his clothes, for all of their finery, were reduced to an ensemble of dark shades due to being waterlogged: He had evidently been standing outside and waiting for quite some time for his arrival. Despite the size difference of the Teliran and the Echotian, the figure looked down upon the freelancer as he removed himself from the truck from atop the stairs, simply calling out,
“Welcome to the Reinopha Estate, Mr. Par-skin.” The Teliran announced over the dripping of droplets falling from the wet trees and ornaments that dotted the foregrounds.
The echo lifted himself out of the back of the truck, grabbing the furthest rung of the canvas backing before leaping to the ground. He wore a slimmer fitting black suit, over which were several layers of dark cloth that concealed much his upper torso, leaving his semi-armoured legs and boots exposed.
As he looked up towards the Teliran, the hooded helm he wore concealed his face.
Paskin was unsure if the name mishap had been because if ignorance or because he had advised secrecy of his presence here. Perhaps the Teliran was testing him, watching for a reaction on behalf of his botched title? There were too many reason to count why the act could be deliberate, though he did not believe that the man's intent was to irk him.
As he ascended the steps to the manor, he performed a small chuckle before reaching out a hand to his greeter.
"Paskin Brell, at your service. To whom do I speak, Vorel?"
The aristocrat simply stood there, soaked to the brim as he watched the mercenary ascend the step. Slowly rising to, and then above, his level until the Echotian was now looking down upon him. The Teliran took several moments of silence to stare upon the freelancer’s hand before returning his gaze towards Paskin’s eyes, simply informing,
“I prefer to not conduct a handshake until an understanding has been struck with my associate.”
With that, the landowner slowly lowered his body to prover a small bow to the freelancer before rising more. A little smirk appearing upon his face, he suddenly flipped open his journal with a flick of his arm. Clipping his cane to his belt, the Teliran suddenly withdrew a small, simple pencil from his sleeve and began to scribble down into the soggy pages, somehow failing to tear through them before he returned his attention to the Echo.
“You may call me Lord Reinopha.”
Once more putting his journal away, Reinopha turned and gestured for the hulking xeno to follow after him as the well-dressed Lord ascended another, smaller, set of steps. Passing through a pair of mighty oaken doors, the duo left the cold, wet atmosphere outside and entered the dry, stale air of the interior. The entire place smelt of aged books. Strolling down corridor after corridor, past portrait after portrait, Paskin would see a veritable smorgasbord of collections. From artifacts belonging to ancient Teliran and alien civilizations, to the skulls of hulking, wild beasts, Paskin would catch plenty of glimpses of the splendour held within the house. The pair finally came to a halt as the Lord guided them up a set of stairs within the heart of the house, and straight through the doors that lay before the landing.
Inside was clearly the Lord’s study. A number of globes dotted the place, as did several desks filled with papers and books. Upon the walls were a collection of maps giving detailed portrayals of specific areas of unknown lands. A telescope sat by the extravagant windowed double-doors that sat behind the Lord’s main desk, which led out onto a small balcony that gave a commanding view over the palatial gardens.
Reinopha drifted his hand across one of the bookshelves that hugged the walls of the room, wiping off a layer of dust which he rubbed away between his digits. Now removing his silken coat, there was nothing worse than wearing clothing in a dry environment. The Teliran then waltzed to a wine cabinet, indicating for the Echotian to relax or sit as he did so.
“Tell me. Mister Paskin. Do you know what duty I carry on this planet?”
He asked, pouring some of the aged alcohol into a lead glass before placing the decanter down and beginning to retreat behind his main desk.
“I am the Lord-Protector of the Realm… I believe your people may have a similar position, that is, if your government doesn’t entirely specialise in war.”
Slumping down into the ancient chair which lay behind the table, Lord Reinopha tilted his head, sloshing the wine around in his glass. The pair might’ve been out of the cold weather now, but the grey lighting that fed through the windows somehow made the setting even more lifeless than what it had felt outside.
“...With such a position, it is my duty to ensure the stability, security, and control over all of my government’s possessions. This is logical, no?” He inquired, checking the see if the Echotian was still in agreement with him,
Paskin admired the skulls as they traversed the halls and taking the offer of a seat when it was given. His own personal thoughts about the acquiring of such trophies was kept to himself however, and he maintained his composure despite his curiosity.
As the Lord finished his question, Paskin replied.
"Echotians strive to master all aspects of life. Violence is just another avenue in which we improve ourselves. But to answer your question, it is logical."
Paskins helm flickered as the individual pieces flexed and adjusted to the new atmosphere, giving a slight hiss. He looked calm, but professional, as if he was used to places like these after so much time as a professional hunter.
Reinopha gave a small smile, nodding,
“Then we are of the same heart.”
With that, the noble began to stroll over to a spinet desk. With his back turned to the Echotian, all that Paskin could hear was the flicking of papers through the Lord’s fingers. As from that, the room was now dead quiet. He finally turned and began to traverse the room, his buckled shoes click-clacking across the bare wooden floor as he made his way towards the windowed overlook. He seemed to nonchalantly toss a clipboard of papers towards Paskin, which landed and drifted across his desk before reaching just infront of the freelancer. Taking a sip of wine as he looked upon the countryside beyond, which was now haunted by a mist emanating from the waterlogged landscape.
“Over half a decade ago, this planet came under attack from a fleet of Human ships from a colonial empire known as the Royal Federation. While the war ultimately ended with our continued independence it crippled almost every fleet among the states of Natar.”
Taking another sip as he returned his attention to the interior of the room, Lord Reinopha stepped over to a nearby table and picked up a relatively new-looking globe.
“During this momentary weakness, a soldier from within our army deserted and went rogue. Now in any other circumstance this traitor would’ve been quite easily captured and persuaded to return to her ranks. However, like I said, our fleet was in tatters and our government in disarray.”
Strolling back towards Paskin, the Lord planted the globe down infront of him with a wooden thump against the desk before slumping into his own chair on the opposite end.
“This soldier, meanwhile, was stationed in an offworld colony.”
The Lord was sat upright, seemingly unwilling to entirely relax and reduce himself from his officious demeanour,
“The Sakha Colony, our colony on the nearby moon of Sano, was effectively cut off for several days until our navy had reorganised. By that time, she was already far beyond the reach of the proper authorities on the matter… And like a disease in a body without defences, she spread her influence throughout the hinterlands. She spent such time growing in strength, numbers and power, now being so bold as to raid and pillage foreign colonial settlements too.”
He coughed,
“...And while it is true to say that our nation now has the strength and ability to capture her, we know her general whereabouts in fact, we do not know the location of every cell and subordinate she has. The fact the colony wasn’t even profitable before she even began her little raiding campaign only adds to our reasons not to throw our men and resources at the issue.”
The Lord now looked Paskin straight in the eyes and informed,
“I would like you to travel to the Sakha Colony and locate this Warlord… Or Warlady rather. I would like you to gain her trust. I will not divulge in your future orders until this has been accomplished. But as a test of proof that she truly does trust you as one of her inner circle, you will obtain a certain amulet from her position. From what her family has told us, it was given to her by her village chieftain of her tribe back here in Aphanesia.”
The Teliran rose to his feet and made his way over to a wall to withdraw a handful of documents and a datapad. Upon the wall was a particularly large hunting shotgun that loomed over him.
“So, are you prepared to fulfill this offer?”
It was unclear whether Lord Reinopha was aware that the gun that loomed over him made his question hold a rather coercive undertone. But he certainly seemed like he expected nothing less than an agreement to the contract.
The Echos splayed hand almost delicately outlined the data pad as he inspected it, pondering the proposal before coming to a conclusion.
"I've had many challenges in my short lifespan, many still I would not attempt again. This however, this sounds like it will test me to a degree I have not explored yet."
He turned his head to look at the Lord, metal helm still dark and unmoving, glowing eye-slits making the expression Paskin held. There was an air of certainty to the way he spoke, as if the challenge was not in the completion, but in the execution.
"I am prepared, Lord Reinopha."
“Then we have a deal.”
The Teliran proceeded to move to press a finger against the edge of his desk, causing a clicking noise to end the room’s recording. The Lord spent no time in making his way towards the door as he grabbed a fresh coat from a hangar. Waiting by the door.
“You will be taken to Apacit Spaceway where a private shuttle will be ready in approximately six hours to ferry you to Sakha. As agreed within your invitation, you will be rewarded 42,000,000 Satis, as initially offered. Further rewards may come with changing circumstances. My associate Substate Governor Marcilas Brod will meet you there. It is customary now to answer any questions you may have, but if they are in regards to the finer details of infiltrating these brigands, please refrain asking anything Governor Brod would be able to answer.”
Paskin stood as he felt the tone shift; he had accepted the job and was officially employed. His helm flicked and whirred as it formed around his jaw, allowing it to move along with his mouth as he spoke.
"I am curious as to the importance of this Warlords life, should she suspect me of working agaisnt her? If she were to draw a weapon on me, how many peices will be required of her?"
His head cocked slightly to one side as he watched the Telirans face, assessing the Lord for his answer. His lower hands folded behind his back, while his upper hands set about adjusting his cloak, revealing a black, carapace-like armoured torso. Blades of all sizes were sheathed to his waist and lower back, each even more gruesome than the last.
The Lord smirked momentarily in response to the Echotian’s question. Wrapping himself in his fresh coat,
“She will not draw a weapon on you. Not unless she is certain you are a traitor… In which case…” The Teliran proceeded to walk out the door, presumably expecting the mercenary to follow after him,
“She will have you in a position where your fate is certain… She is a disloyal deserter and she learnt from the best, she is not some common thug. At any rate I expect you not to kill her until you have accomplished all of the work that Governor Brod shall require of you on the surface. If you do, do not bother returning for payment. Any other questions?”
Reinopha inquired as they once more descended to the bottom floor of the manor and back out of the door.
"Not any that require me to trouble you further, Lord Reinopha. Rhanisk'thrall."
He gave a nod as his helm sealed around his mouth, resuming its smooth, oval-line appearance. He folded the cloak down over himself once more as he turned to descend the steps.
“Good. Travel safely, Mr. Parta-kin.” The Lord once again casually mispronounced as the Echotian loaded himself into the truck. With one smack against the side of the vehicle, it once more went trundling back down the roads out of the estate.
The journey to the capital of the huge country took hours in itself. Rolling through the Teliran countryside was now somewhat refreshing as the clouds opened to a more bright, positive light. Farmed hillsides dotted the landscape like a giant, patched bedsheet and wild animals roamed the woodlands in bouncing herds. It was, however, largely uneventful and quickly faded into larger roads closer to Apacit Spaceway. Jams of cargo transports lined the roads and railways zoomed past the side of the huge road. It made sitting in an open-back lorry rather awkward as dozens of drivers behind Paskin tried to prevent awkward stare-offs as they looked about in the boring gridlock of the ever-active spaceport.
Once the Echotian had actually gotten his boots on the ground, however, his experience once more improved. He was immediately met by a handful of Aphanesian civil servants and transport staff who quickly welcomed the Echotian and guided his way to his transport: A civilian ferry ship. Once onboard, the Echotian was treated to the more luxurious sections of the vessel. Able to freely walk about mostly empty, quiet rooms where mostly Teliran and Human wealthy individuals sat reading articles on their pads or mumbling to each other. Female Teliran hostesses regularly checked on the warrior to ensure that he was well and that his trip was satisfactory, constantly offering complimentary fizzy drinks and catered meals. But most of this journey was likely a welcome opportunity to get some rest for work ahead.
Almost as soon as the ship touched down, the luxury-class passengers were allowed to leave first. Calmly descending and dispersing while the rest of the passengers sat waiting for their turn. As Paskin himself made his way off the ship and into the open concrete plain which the ship had touched down on, he was met by the strange sight of a relatively tall, lanky Teliran standing in the open. His cane was thin and polished, conveying little prestige, heritage or wear. The man, unlike most powerful Telirans, seemed to have taken to more modern Human apparel: Donning a black suit which he wore despite the beating sun that created a warmer climate than what he had been accustomed to back on Natar.
“Mr. Paskin? I’m Sub-Governor Brod, honoured to meet you. I trust your journey was a positive one? How is the old homeland doing?”
He openly greeted the freelancer as some aides standing nearby to take any of the Echotians baggage that he might’ve organised to have been taken along. Giving a small bow of the head, the Teliran began to escort the mercenary from the landing yard and towards a vehicle. Climbing into the front seat, the governor began driving the Echotian from the premises.
“I’ve been told by the Department of Security that Lord Reinopha has contracted you to handle a little trouble we’ve been having and that i’m charged with briefing you with Aphanesia’s current plans. What has he let you in on so far?”
Paskin returned the bow upon receiving, putting a fist to his chest in a salute familiar to his people. He said nothing initially, simply responding with nods of affirmation until he was inside the transport.
"Heard you have some AWOL Warlord causing you trouble and I am to gain her trust and report back. If you don't mind, I am curious as to the importance of this woman?"
“Indeed.” Governor Brod confirmed, “The lady going by the name of Sister Shereza is of great importance… I’m not sure if my superior informed you, but we are presently quite aware of her particular whereabouts right now and could theoretically rush in and eliminate her. If this were months into her defection, we probably would’ve done so. But it has been over five years since she began her campaign of raiding military stations and harassing the settlers.”
Looking out at the window, the governor paused. Unlike the countryside of Aphanesia, the Sakha Colony was much more like the mongolian steppes. It didn’t take a horticulturalist to tell that the soil here was poor and life in these lands would be rough. Along the horizon vast mountains overlooked the capital city of the colony. The city itself paled in comparison to the urban sprawl that Paskin had just been through. Mostly bungalows or two-story houses, there were only a handful of tower blocks towards the centre, and only one or two factories were to be seen.
“...Sakha is a vast colony with a sparse population and little infrastructure. It would seem she has perverted many of our subjects to joining her little renegade streak… Well… It isn't little anymore…”
“Simply stamping on the snake would not kill it any longer, it has become too big. If we want to end its threat precisely and cost-effectively then we need to cut its head clean off; to do that we need to be able to apprehend the leadership of all Shereza’s cells and lieutenants in one-fell swoop. Killing her alone would just make her a martyr and allow one of her trusted subordinates to take her place and rally the population under their little banner.”
"So you hired a scalpel to do a hammer's job. Someone on the inside is needed in order to weaken them. I understand."
Paskin observed the landscape as they traversed, paying close mind to any signs of fauna as they passed.
"You have any suggestions as to how I might contact you once I've completed my objectives?"
“Shereza’s people are nothing more than addicts, rapists and brigands… I’m sure you will be able to slip out under the cover of night or create an excuse to disappear for a day… And on that point…”
The civil servant returned his gaze to the Echotian as he offered over an attache case filled to the brim with rando mementos, narcotics, and random details to add to the Echotians armour.
“...You will need to actually gain their trust and prevent them from blowing your brains out at your first encounter… Might I suggest taking some time to build a persona for yourself? Or… Of course, you could simply pretend you are a freelancer offering your services to them… Either way, there will be no assured way of a person of your… Demeanour, simply slipping in unnoticed.”
Paskin looked through the assorted contraband, familiarizing himself with its co contents before closing it and setting it at his feet.
"I'll have to think on it." Paskin replied simply, looking around at the colony around them. He was interested to see what he might find at his destination, and how he would gain entry should he be stopped.
"I dont suppose you could hold onto a few things for me while I'm gone? If I do get captured, the last thing I want is for my BLCK-robes to be pillaged by brigands."
“You may entrust your belongings in my hands as if I were Lord Reinopha himself.” The governor assured with a smile as the vehicle screeched to a halt a short while after rumbling out of the city. While there was no farmland, there were plenty of lifestock grazing upon the pastures. Cows from Earth in particular would be successfully raised in these outskirts, without a single fence or boundary being in sight.
As the governor and Paskin clambered out of the car at a small dusty layby, they were met by a couple of Teliran droids guarding a table with a map upon it. Marcilas Brod wasted no time in strolling over to it, beginning to point to certain landmarks upon it.
“We’re located here. Far from what have been nicknamed the Lone Mountains, I'm sure you can get some ideas as to why they are owed such a name considering how far they are from the capital. You’ll find your trek there to be tiring, long and devoid of interaction apart from the villages we’ve highlighted for you. But I'm sure a small trip across half a desolate continent will be child’s play for a man such as yourself. So, unless you have anything else to ask of me, I'd recommend you begin as soon as possible.”
Governor Brod proceeded to offer a small tracking device to the Echotian, murmuring,
“This will be little use to us considering we already know of their location, but we will be able to buzz you for reports or when we feel you are ready to be recalled and briefed on further plans.”
The Echo nodded, moving a hand under the folds of his cloak and pressing something within. Suddenly, a silence washed over the pair as the silent hum of the cloaking device shut off, rendering the uppermost defenses of Paskin's attire inert.
He swung the cloak off his shoulders and over his head, folding it neatly before presenting it to the Governor.
He removed an energy saber from its sheath before also placing it atop the belongings he was leaving behind, hesitating as his hand left the hilt of the blade.
"Do take care of them for me will you? If I do die, feel free to keep them as collateral to hire another hunter."
Paskin, now with his neck and shoulders exposed, climbed out of the vehicle and onto the ground below. His neck craned as he allowed his helm to retract from his face; the mechanism securing itself into a small diamond shaped shape on the back of his neck and upper sternum. He breathed in, comfortable with the air quality for now, before turning back to Governor Brod.
"May we see each other soon. Rhanisk'an'Vosh. I bid the well."
“Worry not, Mr. Paskin, your armour will be in safe custody.”
The Teliran assured him before placing the Echotian’s belongings into the hold of one of the bots. Returning to look to Paskin, Brod glanced at the mercenary up one more time before sighing and smiling.
“Farewell, Mister Paskin. Please take care… The road ahead is dangerous and I fear it won’t just be the livestock who will be watching you as you travel. You’re our only hope of undoing this crisis inexpensively. Good luck, we’re counting on you.”
Just like that, the Governor gave a final nod before retreating to his vehicle along with his droids. A few moments later and the government vehicle was kicking up plumes of dust from the dirt road on the horizon. Leaving the Echo to his devices.
Paskin’s journey across the hills and slopes of Sakha can only be described as dull and slow. The roads that the freelancer had to follow according to his documents were, in reality, little more that dirt-tracks in the pasture that had been created by the rare vehicle that drove past. Ever attempting to hitch a ride, the Echo was instead greeted by alien glares from the Aphanesian Telirans as the rumbled past.
For entire weeks, the Echotian was forced to turn to running streams that trickled down from the distant mountain springs. There was little in the way of food. While flying insects and small plants were plentiful, actual plentiful sources were rare, and there were certainly no large beasts to be found here that weren’t owned by distant settlers. Fortunately, villages or hamlets would appear every so often. Even a military post at one point. The troops garrisoned at the outpost, however, were quick to threaten the Echotian to remain away from the premises; even the army was clearly not informed of the operation. Civilians, however, were most happy to sell their produce or some of their belongings to the alien if he could pay.
As Paskin traveled, the environment slowly got different. The hillers got more rugged, and less tamed by farming. The mountains became more plentiful, and it became increasingly necessary to travel through the valleys. The roads too became worse, little more than flattened grass where the odd vehicle had passed through. It was practically a miraculous weekly reminder of life and that Paskin was indeed on the road whenever a vehicle did pass by. The weather got cooler, though not significantly.
But most troubling of all, anomalies became more and more plentiful. Some rocks tumbling down from a distant mountain top, reflective glints of the sunlight from the horizon, villagers became less surprised at the sight of their first Echotian than they seemed to be closer to the capital.
This bitter welcome by the weather to the estate of this freelancer’s paymaster only began to end as the vehicle winded down the road that circled the front of the palatial building. The terraformed fields that surrounded it were filled with beds of fragrant flowers, old orchards and babbling brooks which seemed to gush with the draining rainwater that flooded into them. If it weren’t for the dull tint that these clouds above layered upon the land one might’ve been tempted to go through a stroll through such beautiful landscape; yet every single field was sculpted and terraformed, not left to the agents of chance and wilderness. The truck finally came to a halt, creating a hiss as it tore through the layer of water until it had stopped.
Before the manor climbed a flight of ancient, carved steps, at the top of which stood a single figure who was undoubtedly the man who had invited the Echotian. The Teliran stood significantly shorter than his hired counterpart. The silhouette of the young aristocrat clutched a curling cane within one hand and drenched journal within the other, which he held close to his heart. His patterned knee-length coat was made of obviously fine fabrics, breeches and a dark blue waistcoat, all of which were made of soft, silky custom-made materials. Protruding from his collar came a plume of dark cravat that hid much of the black stock which circled his neck. All of his clothes, for all of their finery, were reduced to an ensemble of dark shades due to being waterlogged: He had evidently been standing outside and waiting for quite some time for his arrival. Despite the size difference of the Teliran and the Echotian, the figure looked down upon the freelancer as he removed himself from the truck from atop the stairs, simply calling out,
“Welcome to the Reinopha Estate, Mr. Par-skin.” The Teliran announced over the dripping of droplets falling from the wet trees and ornaments that dotted the foregrounds.
The echo lifted himself out of the back of the truck, grabbing the furthest rung of the canvas backing before leaping to the ground. He wore a slimmer fitting black suit, over which were several layers of dark cloth that concealed much his upper torso, leaving his semi-armoured legs and boots exposed.
As he looked up towards the Teliran, the hooded helm he wore concealed his face.
Paskin was unsure if the name mishap had been because if ignorance or because he had advised secrecy of his presence here. Perhaps the Teliran was testing him, watching for a reaction on behalf of his botched title? There were too many reason to count why the act could be deliberate, though he did not believe that the man's intent was to irk him.
As he ascended the steps to the manor, he performed a small chuckle before reaching out a hand to his greeter.
"Paskin Brell, at your service. To whom do I speak, Vorel?"
The aristocrat simply stood there, soaked to the brim as he watched the mercenary ascend the step. Slowly rising to, and then above, his level until the Echotian was now looking down upon him. The Teliran took several moments of silence to stare upon the freelancer’s hand before returning his gaze towards Paskin’s eyes, simply informing,
“I prefer to not conduct a handshake until an understanding has been struck with my associate.”
With that, the landowner slowly lowered his body to prover a small bow to the freelancer before rising more. A little smirk appearing upon his face, he suddenly flipped open his journal with a flick of his arm. Clipping his cane to his belt, the Teliran suddenly withdrew a small, simple pencil from his sleeve and began to scribble down into the soggy pages, somehow failing to tear through them before he returned his attention to the Echo.
“You may call me Lord Reinopha.”
Once more putting his journal away, Reinopha turned and gestured for the hulking xeno to follow after him as the well-dressed Lord ascended another, smaller, set of steps. Passing through a pair of mighty oaken doors, the duo left the cold, wet atmosphere outside and entered the dry, stale air of the interior. The entire place smelt of aged books. Strolling down corridor after corridor, past portrait after portrait, Paskin would see a veritable smorgasbord of collections. From artifacts belonging to ancient Teliran and alien civilizations, to the skulls of hulking, wild beasts, Paskin would catch plenty of glimpses of the splendour held within the house. The pair finally came to a halt as the Lord guided them up a set of stairs within the heart of the house, and straight through the doors that lay before the landing.
Inside was clearly the Lord’s study. A number of globes dotted the place, as did several desks filled with papers and books. Upon the walls were a collection of maps giving detailed portrayals of specific areas of unknown lands. A telescope sat by the extravagant windowed double-doors that sat behind the Lord’s main desk, which led out onto a small balcony that gave a commanding view over the palatial gardens.
Reinopha drifted his hand across one of the bookshelves that hugged the walls of the room, wiping off a layer of dust which he rubbed away between his digits. Now removing his silken coat, there was nothing worse than wearing clothing in a dry environment. The Teliran then waltzed to a wine cabinet, indicating for the Echotian to relax or sit as he did so.
“Tell me. Mister Paskin. Do you know what duty I carry on this planet?”
He asked, pouring some of the aged alcohol into a lead glass before placing the decanter down and beginning to retreat behind his main desk.
“I am the Lord-Protector of the Realm… I believe your people may have a similar position, that is, if your government doesn’t entirely specialise in war.”
Slumping down into the ancient chair which lay behind the table, Lord Reinopha tilted his head, sloshing the wine around in his glass. The pair might’ve been out of the cold weather now, but the grey lighting that fed through the windows somehow made the setting even more lifeless than what it had felt outside.
“...With such a position, it is my duty to ensure the stability, security, and control over all of my government’s possessions. This is logical, no?” He inquired, checking the see if the Echotian was still in agreement with him,
Paskin admired the skulls as they traversed the halls and taking the offer of a seat when it was given. His own personal thoughts about the acquiring of such trophies was kept to himself however, and he maintained his composure despite his curiosity.
As the Lord finished his question, Paskin replied.
"Echotians strive to master all aspects of life. Violence is just another avenue in which we improve ourselves. But to answer your question, it is logical."
Paskins helm flickered as the individual pieces flexed and adjusted to the new atmosphere, giving a slight hiss. He looked calm, but professional, as if he was used to places like these after so much time as a professional hunter.
Reinopha gave a small smile, nodding,
“Then we are of the same heart.”
With that, the noble began to stroll over to a spinet desk. With his back turned to the Echotian, all that Paskin could hear was the flicking of papers through the Lord’s fingers. As from that, the room was now dead quiet. He finally turned and began to traverse the room, his buckled shoes click-clacking across the bare wooden floor as he made his way towards the windowed overlook. He seemed to nonchalantly toss a clipboard of papers towards Paskin, which landed and drifted across his desk before reaching just infront of the freelancer. Taking a sip of wine as he looked upon the countryside beyond, which was now haunted by a mist emanating from the waterlogged landscape.
“Over half a decade ago, this planet came under attack from a fleet of Human ships from a colonial empire known as the Royal Federation. While the war ultimately ended with our continued independence it crippled almost every fleet among the states of Natar.”
Taking another sip as he returned his attention to the interior of the room, Lord Reinopha stepped over to a nearby table and picked up a relatively new-looking globe.
“During this momentary weakness, a soldier from within our army deserted and went rogue. Now in any other circumstance this traitor would’ve been quite easily captured and persuaded to return to her ranks. However, like I said, our fleet was in tatters and our government in disarray.”
Strolling back towards Paskin, the Lord planted the globe down infront of him with a wooden thump against the desk before slumping into his own chair on the opposite end.
“This soldier, meanwhile, was stationed in an offworld colony.”
The Lord was sat upright, seemingly unwilling to entirely relax and reduce himself from his officious demeanour,
“The Sakha Colony, our colony on the nearby moon of Sano, was effectively cut off for several days until our navy had reorganised. By that time, she was already far beyond the reach of the proper authorities on the matter… And like a disease in a body without defences, she spread her influence throughout the hinterlands. She spent such time growing in strength, numbers and power, now being so bold as to raid and pillage foreign colonial settlements too.”
He coughed,
“...And while it is true to say that our nation now has the strength and ability to capture her, we know her general whereabouts in fact, we do not know the location of every cell and subordinate she has. The fact the colony wasn’t even profitable before she even began her little raiding campaign only adds to our reasons not to throw our men and resources at the issue.”
The Lord now looked Paskin straight in the eyes and informed,
“I would like you to travel to the Sakha Colony and locate this Warlord… Or Warlady rather. I would like you to gain her trust. I will not divulge in your future orders until this has been accomplished. But as a test of proof that she truly does trust you as one of her inner circle, you will obtain a certain amulet from her position. From what her family has told us, it was given to her by her village chieftain of her tribe back here in Aphanesia.”
The Teliran rose to his feet and made his way over to a wall to withdraw a handful of documents and a datapad. Upon the wall was a particularly large hunting shotgun that loomed over him.
“So, are you prepared to fulfill this offer?”
It was unclear whether Lord Reinopha was aware that the gun that loomed over him made his question hold a rather coercive undertone. But he certainly seemed like he expected nothing less than an agreement to the contract.
The Echos splayed hand almost delicately outlined the data pad as he inspected it, pondering the proposal before coming to a conclusion.
"I've had many challenges in my short lifespan, many still I would not attempt again. This however, this sounds like it will test me to a degree I have not explored yet."
He turned his head to look at the Lord, metal helm still dark and unmoving, glowing eye-slits making the expression Paskin held. There was an air of certainty to the way he spoke, as if the challenge was not in the completion, but in the execution.
"I am prepared, Lord Reinopha."
“Then we have a deal.”
The Teliran proceeded to move to press a finger against the edge of his desk, causing a clicking noise to end the room’s recording. The Lord spent no time in making his way towards the door as he grabbed a fresh coat from a hangar. Waiting by the door.
“You will be taken to Apacit Spaceway where a private shuttle will be ready in approximately six hours to ferry you to Sakha. As agreed within your invitation, you will be rewarded 42,000,000 Satis, as initially offered. Further rewards may come with changing circumstances. My associate Substate Governor Marcilas Brod will meet you there. It is customary now to answer any questions you may have, but if they are in regards to the finer details of infiltrating these brigands, please refrain asking anything Governor Brod would be able to answer.”
Paskin stood as he felt the tone shift; he had accepted the job and was officially employed. His helm flicked and whirred as it formed around his jaw, allowing it to move along with his mouth as he spoke.
"I am curious as to the importance of this Warlords life, should she suspect me of working agaisnt her? If she were to draw a weapon on me, how many peices will be required of her?"
His head cocked slightly to one side as he watched the Telirans face, assessing the Lord for his answer. His lower hands folded behind his back, while his upper hands set about adjusting his cloak, revealing a black, carapace-like armoured torso. Blades of all sizes were sheathed to his waist and lower back, each even more gruesome than the last.
The Lord smirked momentarily in response to the Echotian’s question. Wrapping himself in his fresh coat,
“She will not draw a weapon on you. Not unless she is certain you are a traitor… In which case…” The Teliran proceeded to walk out the door, presumably expecting the mercenary to follow after him,
“She will have you in a position where your fate is certain… She is a disloyal deserter and she learnt from the best, she is not some common thug. At any rate I expect you not to kill her until you have accomplished all of the work that Governor Brod shall require of you on the surface. If you do, do not bother returning for payment. Any other questions?”
Reinopha inquired as they once more descended to the bottom floor of the manor and back out of the door.
"Not any that require me to trouble you further, Lord Reinopha. Rhanisk'thrall."
He gave a nod as his helm sealed around his mouth, resuming its smooth, oval-line appearance. He folded the cloak down over himself once more as he turned to descend the steps.
“Good. Travel safely, Mr. Parta-kin.” The Lord once again casually mispronounced as the Echotian loaded himself into the truck. With one smack against the side of the vehicle, it once more went trundling back down the roads out of the estate.
The journey to the capital of the huge country took hours in itself. Rolling through the Teliran countryside was now somewhat refreshing as the clouds opened to a more bright, positive light. Farmed hillsides dotted the landscape like a giant, patched bedsheet and wild animals roamed the woodlands in bouncing herds. It was, however, largely uneventful and quickly faded into larger roads closer to Apacit Spaceway. Jams of cargo transports lined the roads and railways zoomed past the side of the huge road. It made sitting in an open-back lorry rather awkward as dozens of drivers behind Paskin tried to prevent awkward stare-offs as they looked about in the boring gridlock of the ever-active spaceport.
Once the Echotian had actually gotten his boots on the ground, however, his experience once more improved. He was immediately met by a handful of Aphanesian civil servants and transport staff who quickly welcomed the Echotian and guided his way to his transport: A civilian ferry ship. Once onboard, the Echotian was treated to the more luxurious sections of the vessel. Able to freely walk about mostly empty, quiet rooms where mostly Teliran and Human wealthy individuals sat reading articles on their pads or mumbling to each other. Female Teliran hostesses regularly checked on the warrior to ensure that he was well and that his trip was satisfactory, constantly offering complimentary fizzy drinks and catered meals. But most of this journey was likely a welcome opportunity to get some rest for work ahead.
Almost as soon as the ship touched down, the luxury-class passengers were allowed to leave first. Calmly descending and dispersing while the rest of the passengers sat waiting for their turn. As Paskin himself made his way off the ship and into the open concrete plain which the ship had touched down on, he was met by the strange sight of a relatively tall, lanky Teliran standing in the open. His cane was thin and polished, conveying little prestige, heritage or wear. The man, unlike most powerful Telirans, seemed to have taken to more modern Human apparel: Donning a black suit which he wore despite the beating sun that created a warmer climate than what he had been accustomed to back on Natar.
“Mr. Paskin? I’m Sub-Governor Brod, honoured to meet you. I trust your journey was a positive one? How is the old homeland doing?”
He openly greeted the freelancer as some aides standing nearby to take any of the Echotians baggage that he might’ve organised to have been taken along. Giving a small bow of the head, the Teliran began to escort the mercenary from the landing yard and towards a vehicle. Climbing into the front seat, the governor began driving the Echotian from the premises.
“I’ve been told by the Department of Security that Lord Reinopha has contracted you to handle a little trouble we’ve been having and that i’m charged with briefing you with Aphanesia’s current plans. What has he let you in on so far?”
Paskin returned the bow upon receiving, putting a fist to his chest in a salute familiar to his people. He said nothing initially, simply responding with nods of affirmation until he was inside the transport.
"Heard you have some AWOL Warlord causing you trouble and I am to gain her trust and report back. If you don't mind, I am curious as to the importance of this woman?"
“Indeed.” Governor Brod confirmed, “The lady going by the name of Sister Shereza is of great importance… I’m not sure if my superior informed you, but we are presently quite aware of her particular whereabouts right now and could theoretically rush in and eliminate her. If this were months into her defection, we probably would’ve done so. But it has been over five years since she began her campaign of raiding military stations and harassing the settlers.”
Looking out at the window, the governor paused. Unlike the countryside of Aphanesia, the Sakha Colony was much more like the mongolian steppes. It didn’t take a horticulturalist to tell that the soil here was poor and life in these lands would be rough. Along the horizon vast mountains overlooked the capital city of the colony. The city itself paled in comparison to the urban sprawl that Paskin had just been through. Mostly bungalows or two-story houses, there were only a handful of tower blocks towards the centre, and only one or two factories were to be seen.
“...Sakha is a vast colony with a sparse population and little infrastructure. It would seem she has perverted many of our subjects to joining her little renegade streak… Well… It isn't little anymore…”
“Simply stamping on the snake would not kill it any longer, it has become too big. If we want to end its threat precisely and cost-effectively then we need to cut its head clean off; to do that we need to be able to apprehend the leadership of all Shereza’s cells and lieutenants in one-fell swoop. Killing her alone would just make her a martyr and allow one of her trusted subordinates to take her place and rally the population under their little banner.”
"So you hired a scalpel to do a hammer's job. Someone on the inside is needed in order to weaken them. I understand."
Paskin observed the landscape as they traversed, paying close mind to any signs of fauna as they passed.
"You have any suggestions as to how I might contact you once I've completed my objectives?"
“Shereza’s people are nothing more than addicts, rapists and brigands… I’m sure you will be able to slip out under the cover of night or create an excuse to disappear for a day… And on that point…”
The civil servant returned his gaze to the Echotian as he offered over an attache case filled to the brim with rando mementos, narcotics, and random details to add to the Echotians armour.
“...You will need to actually gain their trust and prevent them from blowing your brains out at your first encounter… Might I suggest taking some time to build a persona for yourself? Or… Of course, you could simply pretend you are a freelancer offering your services to them… Either way, there will be no assured way of a person of your… Demeanour, simply slipping in unnoticed.”
Paskin looked through the assorted contraband, familiarizing himself with its co contents before closing it and setting it at his feet.
"I'll have to think on it." Paskin replied simply, looking around at the colony around them. He was interested to see what he might find at his destination, and how he would gain entry should he be stopped.
"I dont suppose you could hold onto a few things for me while I'm gone? If I do get captured, the last thing I want is for my BLCK-robes to be pillaged by brigands."
“You may entrust your belongings in my hands as if I were Lord Reinopha himself.” The governor assured with a smile as the vehicle screeched to a halt a short while after rumbling out of the city. While there was no farmland, there were plenty of lifestock grazing upon the pastures. Cows from Earth in particular would be successfully raised in these outskirts, without a single fence or boundary being in sight.
As the governor and Paskin clambered out of the car at a small dusty layby, they were met by a couple of Teliran droids guarding a table with a map upon it. Marcilas Brod wasted no time in strolling over to it, beginning to point to certain landmarks upon it.
“We’re located here. Far from what have been nicknamed the Lone Mountains, I'm sure you can get some ideas as to why they are owed such a name considering how far they are from the capital. You’ll find your trek there to be tiring, long and devoid of interaction apart from the villages we’ve highlighted for you. But I'm sure a small trip across half a desolate continent will be child’s play for a man such as yourself. So, unless you have anything else to ask of me, I'd recommend you begin as soon as possible.”
Governor Brod proceeded to offer a small tracking device to the Echotian, murmuring,
“This will be little use to us considering we already know of their location, but we will be able to buzz you for reports or when we feel you are ready to be recalled and briefed on further plans.”
The Echo nodded, moving a hand under the folds of his cloak and pressing something within. Suddenly, a silence washed over the pair as the silent hum of the cloaking device shut off, rendering the uppermost defenses of Paskin's attire inert.
He swung the cloak off his shoulders and over his head, folding it neatly before presenting it to the Governor.
He removed an energy saber from its sheath before also placing it atop the belongings he was leaving behind, hesitating as his hand left the hilt of the blade.
"Do take care of them for me will you? If I do die, feel free to keep them as collateral to hire another hunter."
Paskin, now with his neck and shoulders exposed, climbed out of the vehicle and onto the ground below. His neck craned as he allowed his helm to retract from his face; the mechanism securing itself into a small diamond shaped shape on the back of his neck and upper sternum. He breathed in, comfortable with the air quality for now, before turning back to Governor Brod.
"May we see each other soon. Rhanisk'an'Vosh. I bid the well."
“Worry not, Mr. Paskin, your armour will be in safe custody.”
The Teliran assured him before placing the Echotian’s belongings into the hold of one of the bots. Returning to look to Paskin, Brod glanced at the mercenary up one more time before sighing and smiling.
“Farewell, Mister Paskin. Please take care… The road ahead is dangerous and I fear it won’t just be the livestock who will be watching you as you travel. You’re our only hope of undoing this crisis inexpensively. Good luck, we’re counting on you.”
Just like that, the Governor gave a final nod before retreating to his vehicle along with his droids. A few moments later and the government vehicle was kicking up plumes of dust from the dirt road on the horizon. Leaving the Echo to his devices.
Paskin’s journey across the hills and slopes of Sakha can only be described as dull and slow. The roads that the freelancer had to follow according to his documents were, in reality, little more that dirt-tracks in the pasture that had been created by the rare vehicle that drove past. Ever attempting to hitch a ride, the Echo was instead greeted by alien glares from the Aphanesian Telirans as the rumbled past.
For entire weeks, the Echotian was forced to turn to running streams that trickled down from the distant mountain springs. There was little in the way of food. While flying insects and small plants were plentiful, actual plentiful sources were rare, and there were certainly no large beasts to be found here that weren’t owned by distant settlers. Fortunately, villages or hamlets would appear every so often. Even a military post at one point. The troops garrisoned at the outpost, however, were quick to threaten the Echotian to remain away from the premises; even the army was clearly not informed of the operation. Civilians, however, were most happy to sell their produce or some of their belongings to the alien if he could pay.
As Paskin traveled, the environment slowly got different. The hillers got more rugged, and less tamed by farming. The mountains became more plentiful, and it became increasingly necessary to travel through the valleys. The roads too became worse, little more than flattened grass where the odd vehicle had passed through. It was practically a miraculous weekly reminder of life and that Paskin was indeed on the road whenever a vehicle did pass by. The weather got cooler, though not significantly.
But most troubling of all, anomalies became more and more plentiful. Some rocks tumbling down from a distant mountain top, reflective glints of the sunlight from the horizon, villagers became less surprised at the sight of their first Echotian than they seemed to be closer to the capital.