Post by bluesnailok on Jun 6, 2021 14:16:32 GMT
076 AME.
A shaky breath, a rolling of shoulders. She could do this. It wasn't like she was going to leverage her connections to ask permission for a paramilitary mission...
Kahtet Vos looked at her reflection in the window of the aircar as it came in for a landing on the Administrator's estate and huffed a soft laugh. If someone else had told her that they were about to make this request and why, she'd have laughed in their face. But the facts as they stood were...grim.
A transport carrying the Maker's Blade had fudged its jump three weeks ago, and wound up getting ambushed out in the Karzan Straights by pirates. II had gone mad trying to track down the weapon, and some judicious bribery and knife-work had managed to uncover the trail. Unfortunately for everyone involved, the pirates had taken it to be auctioned off on some rinky-dink outpost out in the middle of nowhere, that just so happened to be called Tetlisun Station.
She'd scoffed when II first asked her to intercede with the Administrator on her behalf, but then they'd explained the ramifications of the Blade falling into the wrong hands. The Imperium was not without its share of outcasts, and if one of those rouge groups acquired it, they would gain an aura of legitimacy that could then be used to unify the rest of the mongrels. Of course, II was most concerned about the remnants of the recently condemned House Jaros. Even Kahtet had to admit that the thought of an outcast House, unbound by the laws of the Senate and possessing the blade that had been used to smite a god, terrified her.
So here she was. Ready to go beg and get on her proverbial knees to ask Tetlisun himself to approve an Imperial strike team to retrieve the weapon before the auction could take place. Although if she was being honest, when it came down to it, she'd probably actually get down on her knees if Tetlisun demanded it. And if she was being really honest... No. Best not to think about that.
The car landed smoothly, and one of her bodyguards got out and came around to open the door. Getting out, she took another breath and composed herself before striding into the building and smiling at the receptionist. "Ambassador Vos, here to see the Administrator. I have an appointment, if that helps."
The Telirans had, contrary to what Kateht received, gained very little information on the subject at hand prior to the appointment. But whatever the cause was, it was clear from the rather frantic demands for an earliest possible appointment that it was of great importance to the Imperium. The response from Tetlisun had been swift: A meeting at one of the many estates across the planet affiliated with his political faction within the international assembly. Unlike the last major meeting of Association-Imperial figures, this meeting was set within the chilly, periglacial hills of Anteria. The frost’s cold bite was only invigorated further by the crisp air of the night. The Imperium had been told to arrive at midnight.
The hedgerows and fertilized gardens that formed a perimeter around the blocky mansion shivered in the gust of wind caused by the descent of Kateht’s aeromobile. The poor lighting limited one’s sight to not much more than the faint silhouette of the towering building that ominously peered down upon the car before it. Leaving the car behind her, Kateht had ascended up the flight of stairs before the chiseled-glass doorway that guarded the entrance to the building. In the silence of the knight, her shoes clicked and echoed out into the abyss that surrounded the deathly still building. No sign of light nor life radiated from the house’s windows; it was difficult to determine if she had even gotten the right place. But surely enough the doors swung open upon her approach.
She was promptly received by the receptionist that sat upon a small wooden chair by the doorway. The maid rose from her seat and nodded, remarking before wandering off,
“We have been expecting you Madam. Please wait here…”
Kateht was then left for what almost reached half an hour of loneliness within the dark, lifeless building. Tapestries draped over the walls, with flights of stairs arcing around the sides of the hall and up to a landing which was skirted by a black iron balcony which overlooked the entranceway. It was from this landing that the figure of a male Teliran appeared, timed with the slow increase of illumination through the building as the lights brought a warm glow to the house. Standing at the top of the stairs was the clear sight of a rather extravagantly outfitted noble. His overcoat was a Tyrian purple with a collar that nearly reached his ears. Golden epaulettes sat upon his shoulders while shimmering crystals were found throughout his apparel. The gentleman wore the most disturbing smile upon his face, it was one that could’ve reached the corners of his eyes if he tried any harder. His off-putting grin could’ve convinced anyone that a psychopath had broken into the place if he hadn’t announced himself from atop of overlook, “Welcome to Acklan Manor, Lady Kateht…”
The male Teliran then proceeded to glide down the steps without making a single noise, despite his fine, leather boots showing no concentrated effort to quietly descend the creaky, antique staircase. Once at the bottom he shuffled over with an ecstatic look, his arms outstretched to make an embrace, “Stadtholder Tetlisun is unfortunately unavailable… He has more important matters to handle presently.” The gentleman informed with an oddly gleeful tone while he once more stepped back. Placing a hand upon his stomach, the man bowed. His upper body drew so low one might’ve expected him to even topple forward as he practically kissed the ground before rising upright once more. His silky, silver-tongued accent hissing out,
“...I am Saljir Arcamavir: Mister Tetlisun’s Director of Finance. I have been entrusted with full authority for handling the Administrator’s dealings with you. You may engage with me as though I were Tetlisun himself.” He gestured for the Imperial to follow him with that unnerving grin still plastered upon his face.
Kateht's eyebrow rose slightly. She'd been prepared for the possibility of Tetlisun using a proxy, but this man was...off-putting, to say the least. Nevertheless, her business couldn't wait, and to refuse to speak with him might be construed as an insult. She took a seat in a chair at a nearby table and folded her hands in her lap.
"Well, I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me on such short notice and I presume you're wondering why I was so adamant on a meeting as soon as possible."
She reached into a pocket and withdrew a holoprojector, setting it on the table. It activated, displaying a system with several locations highlighted. "To be brief, we would like the Association's authorization to land strike teams on Tetilsun Station for the purposes of retrieving a stolen Imperial artifact. This object is of paramount importance, and is currently being put up for auction by a pirate organization that stole it from one of our freighters after a miscalculated jump. Should it fall into the wrong hands, the results could be...disastrous."
Kateht met Arcamavir's eyes with a steady gaze, showing that no, she was not joking, and was exceedingly serious.
Arcamavir joined Kateht in sitting down, his grin still across his face as he eagerly listened in to her explanation for the appointment. This smirk, however, disappeared by the end. Staring at her for a few seconds in silence, the Teliran rose to his feet, stating,
“...One moment please…”
Before turning and strolling out of the open room through one of the aged, creaky doorways. Kateht was once more left with the dull silence of the room, only interrupted by the occasional echo of Arcamavir’s footsteps from deep into the manor. It was nearly twenty minutes later when the official once more returned to the room.
Arcamavir clutched a file within his hand, giving a grin to Kateht as he quietly closed the door back behind him. He wandered over to the Imperial and returned to his seat, placing the file between them as he opened it up.
“I had to do a bit of digging for our information on any ‘Tetlisun Station’ under our jurisdiction… There’s two, as you may know. But uh… No auction planned either… So I'm presuming you mean the station set up by the Fariss Corporation Group located in the outer Killian Verge. Outside of our direct control.”
Saljir leaned back in his chair, causing it to squeak a little. Exhaling calmly as he watched Kateht with his beady eyes, the financial director followed by commenting,
“While i’m touched that the Imperium would inform us of your plans to attack the Teliran population in the galaxy. It’s, well, the sworn duty of the Association to protect its interest and people wherever they be, and nothing will deviate us from our noble protectorship.”
The stoic demeanour that Arcamavir boasted through his speech quickly changed as his leaned forward, raised an eyebrow and grinned,
“Well. Not without a small fee…”
With that, the Teliran placed his hands together upon the table after politely coughing,
“...So what does the Imperium have in mind as compensation for their most ignoble plan?”
Kateht snorted softly as she listened to Arcamavir. "Selling your people out? Well, it's not much different that what I've seen so far. Nevertheless, the Senate thought something like this might arise."
She flicked the projector, and it flickered for a moment. When the image reformed, it was instead displaying a diagram of a starship. Scales listed underneath the rotating image indicated it as being almost 120 kilometres across, a true behemoth. "This is a blueprint of a Oranos-class carrier dreadnought." She glanced at it and a corner of her mouth quirked in a grin. "It mounts enlarged spinal mounts for an artillery role and well over a thousand missile batteries for medium-range engagements. The hull is reinforced irridath with shield generators laid along the keel to assist in reinforcing the superstructure. The main shield generators have withstood almost half an hour of sustained fire from planetary defense batteries in field tests, and each generator is slaved to a fusion reactor for power needs. Furthermore, it has hangar bays along the midsection capable of holding several hundred fightercraft and bombers."
Turning back to look at the Teliran, she leaned forward onto the table. "As compensation for any damages that may be incurred on the station over the course of operations, the Senate is prepared to offer between two and four of these ships to the Assembly. They're mostly self-maintaining, and crew of Teliran volunteers could easily be trained in the operation of the vessels. Would this be acceptable?"
“Considering you want something from us, I would not recommend insulting me.” Arcamavir replied with a raised brow. The proposition the Imperial gave was greeted with the utmost interest of the financier, who in turn rubbed his chin before grinning,
“As much of an interesting offer as it is, the Telirans are not a particularly warmongering race. When we need to wage war, we hire others to do it for us unless absolutely necessary. Besides, the political implications of such a deal would not make it worth our time. The fuss over how the force would be divided among the nations, trying to explain why such a generous donation is occurring just shortly after a raid on an unaligned station of our race and so forth… Hardly worth the effort. Besides… If we are to be allies those ships would be involved in any major conflict involving us anyhow, either that or we could just commission some from you if we desired…”
Shifting in his chair, Arcamavir took a more professional and serious tone,
“At any rate if you’re serious on bargaining for Association neutrality then i’m sure we can organise compensation in another way… An attack on a station belonging to a conglomerate registered within the ASN would surely damage corporate confidence in our ability to protect them. So perhaps a better option, rather than a military deal, might be a disguise…”
He leaned forward.
“After the Imperial attack on the station, the Assembly will be in uproar and demand justice; this is where you come in. After heavy news coverage over the validity of our alliance, Stadtholder Tetlisun will make a proud announcement at a press conference: After gruesome negotiations and diplomacy the Imperium has formally apologised for not consulting the ASN before the attack. They will admit that the Imperium felt urgency took precedence and acted too hastily. This will be followed by a treaty announcing the ‘reparations’ of 400,000,000 Satis, an additional 10,000,000 as compensation to the families of any deceased and the establishment of a new export subsidy for outgoing Imperial trade within Cameta- I mean, Ancerious… And how about an agreement to reduce the Imperium’s security presence in Natar by- Let’s say 1,000 as a show of good faith?” He inquired with a small smile.
“Far less financially taxing as your offer I think you’ll agree. Of course behind the curtains there will be an implicit agreement that you will owe us a favour should we require it in future.” The Teliran returned to a relaxed posture in his chair,
“There’s the Association’s offer on the matter. Take it or leave it.”
Her gaze sharpened for a moment at the diplomat's slip as she filed the information away for future reference. Then she reached out, turned the projector off and put it away, humming thoughtfully before she spoke. "I believe such would be agreeable, even if it might take some to time push such through the Senate. We are also willing to accommodate an observer to ensure that things do not get...out of hand. Off the books, of course. Any such observer will need to be present at Dock 49 B within two weeks."
Her business done, she stood, and then hesitated for a moment. Then she reached into her bag again and withdrew a different kind of projector, shaped like a four-pointed star set into a circle. She set it carefully on the table. "When the Administrator returns, please give him this. It's a sort of...guiding light, you might say. He'll know what to do with it."
Then she turned and swept out of the room, leaving Arcamavir alone at the table with the small device gleaming in the low light.
“Very good…” The director murmured with a crooked grin as he nodded to Kateht as she rose. Remaining seated, the bureaucrat took the device and stayed there; watching the Imperial as she began leaving with a little to more interest in his inspection of her before smirking. Cramming the item into one of his pockets before closing the doorway behind the diplomat, turning, and disappearing once more into the labyrinth of the manor.
Cargo Freighter Fortuitous Discovery of Profit, Hyperspace transit to Tetlisun Station
A click and a whine sounded through the briefing room of the overhauled freighter as the hololith embedded in the table came to life, displaying a detailed map of Tetlisun Station and it's environs. A woman at the head of the table cleared her throat. "Alright, for you shitheads who were asleep when they handed out IQ points, and for our esteemed guest-" Here she nodded at the Teliran off to the side- "I am Fayeron Eroth, and the chuckleheads over in II thought it would be funny to stick me in charge of the hot steaming mess of bullshit that is this mission. The basic parameters are fairly simple, just a smash and grab, but as always, it's the details that are gonna fuck us in the ass with this one."
A tap on a pad changed the image to a more detailed overlay of the station itself. "The long and short of it is that Fleet was shipping an artifact from the Spiral, and some pirates got the jump on the convoy and stole it. Now it's up for auction, and II is shitting themselves over the idea. Which is where we come in. The basic plan is for us to dock as potential buyers at the auction and stay on the down-low while we scope the situation out. Ideally, we're gonna break into wherever they're holding the artifact before the auction and scamper before they realize what's going on. In the event that that fails to happen, House Enarius did an overhaul on this ship, and we're packing some serious heat."
Excited whispers spread around the room before Fayeron rolled her eyes and kicked the table, eliciting a loud bang. "Hey! Before you brain-dead cocksuckers get too excited, I'm gonna remind you that we're under a dictate of minimum casualties and damage. The Senate is going to be paying for excessive damage, and I will personally take excess damages or deaths out of your asses. Everyone clear?"
The officers in the room grumbled somewhat, but settled down soon enough. "Good. With that out of the way, our primary offensive weapon while docked is the fusion torch engine. We're gonna arrange it so that our torch is pointed straight into the engine, and if needed, we can use it to force the stationmaster to let us undock. For weapons, nobody is authorized for anything with more punch than a standard bullet unless shit hits the fan. That's what we have Optio Vanoth and her Legionnaires with us for."
A woman on the other side of the room saluted smartly. The rest of the briefing continued smoothly until a sudden shudder overtook the ship as it broke hyperspace back into reality, and the sprawling expanse before Tetlisun Station.
Accompanying the officers in the room stood the rather weathered and ageing figure of a Teliran officer, known simply as Komansh of Humanity for his role in the first contact between the Union and Natar. Komansh had been dispatched for little more than to confirm that the job had been done properly and effectively. The Imperium was here to obtain one object, by force if necessary, Komansh was to make sure this was the case. Nothing less and nothing more of this objective.
Yet the impetuous jingoism revealed by many of the Imperial officers seemed to only make the silent officer glare more at the situation. His hands behind his back, he said nothing; merely continuing to watch motionlessly at the briefing. Atleast Fayeron seemed to have some consideration for precision.
Before the force floated Tetlisun station. Far from the rest of galactic civilization, Tetlisun station had come into existence as a deep-space station to serve as a sort of last port-of-call for the Qanis expeditionaries into the Halo region. It was this commerce that had built it into what it was. A spaghetti-like web of decks, expansions and hangar extensions that had been increasingly added as the station’s success had increased. Numerous ships of great sizes docked or circled the station, between them prowled the odd sight of what were the eight corvettes, four frigates and one destroyer that were of varying origins; mostly being hired from the Lahmthan Kingdom that watched and patrolled the perimeter of the trade center.
Yet as the Imperium “cargo freighter” approached, they came under no scrutiny beyond the standard checking procedures for docking and checking. It seemed that the station was unaware of having provoked any potential imminent attack. Getting closer, the Fortuitous Discovery of Profit was guided towards one of the larger hangar bays as its hulking chamber doors grinded open. Sitting within were several dozen industrial drones, expecting and waiting to offload cargo.
It seemed even a suited-up harbourmaster and several station security personnel was eagerly waiting below for the arrival of the vessel, clad in a fishbowl-helmet and all. It seemed that the unplanned arrival of the ship had atleast garnered some special security attention from the station, albeit a very lax response.
The cargo bay doors of the freighter rumbled apart, revealing Fayeron along with several companions, Komansh, and Vanoth directly behind her. Walking forward, Fayeron executed a smart bow, smiling graciously.
"Honored sir, I am the captain of this vessel, and I come with a cargo of many valuable minerals and metals. I apologize for our unscheduled arrival, but I trust that the station taxes from the sale of my cargo will more than compensate for the disruption."
Behind the group, loader bots began to haul out containers that when opened for processing and weighing, revealed platinum and other metals that were prized in space construction.
The harbourmaster was very dismissive in the Imperial crew’s explanation, very rarely looking up to actually gaze upon them as he busily fumbled about with his datapad and notebooks.
“Yes, yes, yes…” The portly, middle-aged Teliran muttered to the woman as he continued to write and scribble his way through his equipment. Occasionally, he would look up to the ship and wander around it to try and record some its specifications. The security guard detachment meanwhile seemed to be more busy conversing with one and other to care about the newcomers; seemingly wearing nothing in the way of battle armour and instead armed with truncheons and pistols. Eventually the man seemed to stop, his face scrunching up as though he were mentally trying to comprehend something. Looking back to Fayeron, he began wandering over to her.
Fayeron blinked for a moment, perplexed. In her experience, most ports had at least some use for such things, but then again, Tetlisun Station was rather far out on the galactic fringe. Probably more need for food and basic necessities than raw materials for warships out here in the black...
Clearing her throat and hoping this didn't backfire, she widened her grin and slipped a hand into her pocket. "We had thought to trade them to any who might require them, but we also have foodstuffs and filtration units that can be sold, albeit in smaller quantities."
Withdrawing her hand, she stepped closer to the stationmaster, and opened it, displaying several credit chits worth at least a few hundred thousand credits. "Of course, I would also appreciate discretion regarding our activities on the station during our stay. Perhaps you might assist with such matters?"
“Metals and minerals…?” He inquired with a confused look, “Why here?”
The harbourmaster seemed quite sceptical as his eyes stopped looking over the ship and had instead locked watchfully onto Fayeron. It even seemed like it was considering authorizing station security to take her in for questioning, hinted by him wandering over to them, before stopping as the captain offered out the currency. He simply gazed at her from a distance for a few moments. He didn’t even seem to be judging the bribe, but something beyond that. Finally his face revealed a sudden realisation as he shouted out whilst pointing to her,
“You bloody Caliguri pirates are going to be the fucking death of me, y’know that?”
He quickly marched back toward her, snatching the briefcase with visible frustration.
“It’s bad enough trying to keep official logs on all you god-damn pirates coming in for this stupid fucking auction, but your boss can’t even be damned to give me any ID numbers for the ships i’m meant to be expecting. I swear to god the damn security problems you guys-” He grunted as he stopped himself from moaning any further; returning to look at Fayeron as he sighed.
“You know where you’re going right?” Or do you need an escort?”
Struggling to conceal her smirk, she sketched a half-bow. "Do we look like we need an escort?"
Without waiting for a reply, she motioned to the others and started walking further into the station proper. Several minutes later, she stopped by an alley and had them gather around her. "Alright, so that's taken care of. The stationmaster also confirmed that the auction is big news right now. Komansh, I'd like you and three Legionnaires to go to the auction house itself. If we're hung up and need more time, start bidding against each other for some random item. I don't care what the price gets up to, we're not going to be paying for it anyways. Drag it out as long as you can."
"Vanoth, you and the remaining troops are with me. We'll be trying to figure out where the items for the auction are stored in advance, then grab the sword from there."
“Whatever… Whatever…” The harbourmaster scowled before retreating to the safety of his detachment, allowing the ‘pirates’ to pass through. As they escaped the confines of the hangar, it became apparent just how complex the place was. After snaking through several cylindrical, transparent corridors to the main body of the station, they were granted a view at the best thing Tetlisun Station had to a boulevard. Before then was a seemingly infinite, open container. It was stuffed with as many temporary mobiles, cubicles, shacks and homes as it could possibly contain without restricting the flow of people. Workers wandered to and from these makeshift houses; some selling wares they must’ve collected from their last trips back into the galaxy proper or brought with them to the ship. Among these unofficial vendors was a very apparent drug-dealer, eagerly selling narcotics to station staff and space-sailors alike.
Built into the walls were several more sanitary, spaces rooms with glass entrances. One of these higher-quality containers quite clearly had the ASN logo above it and apparently served as a branch for the international government here. Inside, however, it seemed the lights were out. A small notice on the door informed that the branch had quite conveniently been evacuated due to plans for renovations and that its staff would return in a fortnight. It did seem, however, that one bureaucrat had been left inside. Sat silently scribbling away at some documents on the other side of the locked doorway.
Above them was a clear, see-through roof, displaying the web of walkways between the countless segments and chambers of the station. With a location so complex, it seemed like it could quite possibly take hours, if not the entire day, just to find the artifact’s storage without directions. Just as the group were splitting up from the alleyway nook created by a pair of shacks, they were barged through by a handful of armoured security and their captain as the patrolled through the ‘streets’ of the broadwalk.
Fortunately for Komansh, the struggle to navigate was evidently not going to be such a big deal. Which was quickly made apparent as his contingent was greeted with the sight of a large, overhanging digital panel from the windowed roof of the broadwalk declaring “AUCTION THIS WAY” followed by helpful arrows throughout the complex. They immediately set off, leaving Vanoth to find someone who might be able to help get her team to the storage site without discovery or suspicion.
Surveying the chaos of Tetlisun Station, Fayeron could only shake her head. "And I thought the Celestial Mechanics yards were a tangled mess. This makes them look sane." she muttered.
Shaking her head, she glanced around for several minutes before nodding sharply and heading up to the ASN office and rapping sharply on the glass, pulling out her Imperial Intelligence badge and pressing it against the door. Now to hope the paper-pusher actually got up off their ass...
The knock on the glass certainly caught the attention of the civil servant who, only after sluggishly looking back and forth between his work and Fayeron, hesitantly rose from his desk and nonchalantly strolled to unlock the door. He seemed to give a rather confused squint at the badge, obviously not recognizing as he poked his head out.
“...Yes?” The bureaucrat moodily mumbled with a look that clearly described his annoyance at having to get up and deal with what he presumed was going to be some snappy middle-aged female space-tourist wanting access to an information desk at the threat of demanding to speak to his manager.
Her lips curved into a grin. She was going to enjoy this...
"Fayeron Eroth, Office of Imperial Intelligence for the High Imperium. I'm here to retrieve an artifact, and I require your assistance. Go ahead and check that with Natar if you'd like though, I can wait."
She brushed past the bureaucrat into the office and leaned against a wall, arms crossed as she stared at him.
The bureaucrat’s eyes seemed to open wide momentarily,
“So that means you…” His voice seemed to trail off as he quickly nodded and allowed the Imperials to enter, closing the door behind him and immediately closing the shutter blinds; enveloping the room in only the dimmest of light emanating. With only his desktop computer as the room’s source of light, the Teliran muttered,
“Mister Arcamavir left me behind in case some ‘foreign troublemakers’ were sent to disrupt this auction or something… Now I understand why he mothballed the branch and left only me here…”
As the Teliran sat himself back down in his chair, now keenly awake and looking at the party, he inquired,
“What exactly are you trying to acquire from the auction...? These are rough people we’re handling here today.”
Fayeron smirked and shrugged nonchalantly. "My people are rougher. But as for your question, we're here for a sword. It doesn't look like anything spectacular. Just a blade, crossguard, and hilt. But, it is pretty damn significant, and it's vital we keep it out of the hands of pretty much everyone else here to buy it today."
She sat down across from him and leaned forward. "Now, we could just storm the auction and shoot people until they give it to us, but we'd prefer to avoid that. I was hoping you could tell me where items for the auction are being stored right now, and I can take my soldiers and go retrieve the weapon and get off the station before anyone knows otherwise. Sound good?"
The civil servant’s expression seemed to pale with concern at the mention of the sword. With a gulp, the bureaucrat tried to recompose himself and return his attention to the screen before him.
“There’s only one thing that matches that description up for grabs here today… It’s being stored along with several other high-value artifacts in Room 029A. I can take you there if you’d like?”
After a moment of hesitation, the Teliran finally came clean on his worry,
“I have to warn you though… There are two other parties specifically here after that thing… And they aren’t crack-addict pirates… They mean business.”
Her expression slid from amused to grim and serious as the clerk spoke, before she sat back. "I also very much mean business, good sir. The artifact in question is nothing to be bandied about, and I am more than willing to destroy this entire station to prevent it falling into the wrong hands if all else fails. That said, I would prefer exhausting all possible avenues before considering such a possibility."
She stood up, and went over to speak with one of her soldiers for a moment, murmuring back and forth in a liquid-sounding language that failed to translate. Then she glanced back at the clerk. "If you'd take us to the storage room, I'd very much appreciate it, as time appears to be of the essence."
The bureaucrat seemed almost depleted by the Imperial’s lack of deterrence from his warnings. Sighing momentarily, the civil servant nodded and gestured towards the door as he grabbed some files and began making his way through the walkways of the station.
“The name’s Mornas, by the way.” He muttered as the group started their journey.
“If you are to blow up this place, how would you go about doing it? It’s not exactly like you can blow this place up with a pistol.” The civil servant nonchalantly inquired amidst the rumbling of street chatter. Entering a lift, the Teliran took the group down several levels and through a snaking complex of hallways. It felt like an eternity before the crowds began to die down, and were instead replaced by the odd station engineer or guard. The hallways similarly became more and more utilitarian until they finally reached a sealed blast door watched over by two security officers, both of which were eyeing up the party carefully and with notable caution.
“What’s your business here?” One shouted out to the group with a concerned look.
Fayeron took a minute to consider her options as they approached. The guards were wearing light armor and open faced helmets, dropping them would be no problem at all, but the consequences...plus, they might not be able to get into the storage area if she killed them. Would be good as a backup option, though.
With that in mind, she cracked a wide grin and threw an arm around Mornas as they walked up, ignoring his question. "Hey there! I'm looking into renting a unit in there from my friend here, and he offered to show the unit itself, so I could get a better idea what I buying. Can't be too careful, right? I mean, you never know who's out to try and scam you!" Her expression shifted into a distressed frown. "And rentals are risky enough as it is, why I heard about this one girl a couple systems over who rented a place for a simply outrageous amount, then got a bug infested dump! Can you even imagine?!"
The two guards quickly raised their weapons in response to the Imperial’s advances, forcing her to keep her distance as she performed her theatrics. The security were, however, displaying little interest in her efforts to convince them of her innocence. The mention of Mornas’ permission did on the other hand cause them to lower their arms and give an almost confused look as their eyes darted to the Teliran bureaucrat.
“...But Mornas posted us here to guard something important? He gave us strict orders to let no one in until the auction is over.” One pondered, his eyes glancing between the imperials and the civil servant.
Mornas meanwhile couldn’t look more stumped by the comment, starting to stammer to try and create a reason for his apparent reneging on his orders.
“Uh… W-Well- New situations require… Uh require…”
The guards were not looking any friendlier as one went to grab the radio from his belt.
Rolling her eyes, Fayeron cleared her throat. Backup time...
"Karlen Vor." Her companions drew pistols and fired in smooth motions almost too fast to see. The resounding crack of the dual gunshots coninceded with the thuds as the guards dropped to the floor, blood seeping from the neat holes in their heads. Tightening her grip on Mornas' shoulder, she drew her own pistol with her other hand and pressed the barrel against the back of his head.
"Well...isn't that interesting? You posted the guards -" Here she pressed the gun into his skull a little harder. "And yet you said that Arcamavir left you behind. I'm smelling something rotten here, care to take a guess what's not adding up right? Now you're going to open that door for me, or I'm going to splatter your brains across it and blow the damn thing off its hinges if I have to."
At the same time, one of the soldiers switched on the comm system to Komansh. "Sir, there appears to be a situation. Please evacuate to the ship."
The Teliran immediately froze up as the gun came to his head, the middle-aged man wincing as he immediately spat out in fear, “I… DON’T KNOW! I-I... don’t know why Arcamavir o-ordered me to post guards!” He stammered before being pushed towards the door.
Turning his head around for a moment to look back at the party, the bureaucrat seemed extremely reluctant to go forth as he stammered,
“L-Look I REALLY don’t w-want to be a part of this! I… I won’t tell anyone- Just let me go, PLEASE!”
He assured in growing terror for his life as the Teliran backed up against the door. At which point it instantly opened; revealing a single room filled with crates of different shapes and sizes.
She cocked an eyebrow, pushing him forward into the room and gesturing to her men as she followed him in. The soldiers grabbed the dead guards and dragged them into the room after them, picking up their weapons as well and taking aim at Mornas as the doors slid closed again, with one turning to watch the door for any interruptions. Shrugging lightly, she leveled the pistol at him again.
"I'll acknowledge that you're probably just that slimeball's patsy, but I'm still here to get something and I'm not leaving without it. And don't think I didn't notice you trying to weasel information out of me earlier. Now find me the sword or I will blow out your kneecaps and drag you back to my ship."
The Teliran whimpered as he was yanked in, his eyes nervously gazing up to a camera watching overhead from atop the storage room. The moment Fayeron’s team shut the doors, they were met with a very audible clunking sound, quickly followed by the muffled sound of a second set of doors shutting behind the first. Mornas immediately collapsed into a frenzied cry as he thrust himself to the door, shaking his head in desperation.
“...N-No… No-no-no-no-no-no!” The civil servant cried as he urgently began pressing keys into the door’s pad but to no avail. The terrified man’s head practically snapped 180 degrees to the sound of hissing coming from a pair of vents just above some shelves of boxes.
Gas.
“...No- NO! OPEN THE DOORS!” The bureaucrat cried towards the camera as he raced toward the door to try and pry it open but to no avail.
"F-ron- Au-ion called off- S-things wrong. -ou must move now." Crackled in the voice of Komansh finally from the radio.
Her head whipped around as she listened the the distorted message before she shook her head. "I wish you'd come clean with me from the beginning, I really do. Maybe this wouldn't have been necessary." Then she took aim, and pulled the trigger. The sharp crack of the pistol was muffled by the growing amount of gas in the air, and Fayeron resolved to herself that this was the last time she went on a mission without a helmet of some sort. Grimacing, she motioned to her soldiers, who went over to the door and began setting grenades around it before backing up with her over by the far wall.
Taking a short breath, she reached inside herself, focusing on the small speck of searing fire every dreft carried. She hadn't wanted to do this, since if there were any Jaros on the station, it would immediately alert them, but...
Gritting her teeth, she pushed at the spark at the same time the soldiers fired at the grenades.
The room was immediately bathed in orange light from the blaring alarms as Mornas’ limp body collapsed to the floor in a broken wreck; his corpse starting to twitch below them. Even as the group set their explosives, they were met by the piercing screech of a microphone coming off as the voice of an unknown male stated,
“I assure you that's quite futile. We have a more than ample firing line beyond.” The intercom casually explained as the gas continued to hiss into the room.
It was only a small gap which opened from the explosions, but a hole nonetheless. The thick layer of security doors had been bent back away from the source of the blast, yet not widely enough for anyone to be leaving without passing through the bottleneck that was now spewing with shotgun and heavy machine gun fire from the seemingly dozens of hostiles ambushing the team from down the hallway out of the storage.
Yet when Fayeron searched herself for some kind of directive on the whereabouts of their target, it did not come from the room they had been brought to. But rather some distance beyond it; past the two vents now pumping out the toxins. Caught between a barrage of oncoming fire from one exit and fatal gas from the other, Fayeron was left with a choice: To make one great gamble rushing out with her men into the entrenched gunfire of the exit and bust out in a desperate hail mary. Or to potentially use their time searching the station’s storage crates for some kind of means of getting out the doorway without so much risk or traveling through the vents at the risk of running out of time; watching her team and herself die in a hopeless effort.
The choice was hers to make.
Glancing around the room, she shook herself slightly, before extending her hand to a soldier in a wordless gesture. The man nodded, then took off his helmet and handed it to her, before taking up a firing position with the other two soldiers to buy her time. Fixing the helmet over her head and taking a relieved breath as the collar sealed around her neck and the filters activated, she slipped over to where the vent was, then kicked them open and hauled herself up into them, doing her best to ignore the sounds of gunfire and screaming from dead and dying fighters behind her.
Back in the room, two of the Legionnaires left to cover her escape position themselves to the sides of the tear in the doors, avoiding the fire while occasionally leaning around to throw one of their few grenades they had left or return fire. The other man did his best to go through the packages, looking for extra weapons while keeping under or behind cover.
The broken doors were pummeled by blasts from enemy gunfire, filling the room with the ringing sound of projectiles against metal as Fayeron crawled out via the vents. The attacking Rubbler mercenaries, donning hulking armour and weaponry of all shapes and sizes, were far from reckless in their attacking. Using cover and forks in the corridor to protect themselves as they kept Fayeron’s team pinned, knowing it was only a matter of time before the gas took its effect. This didn’t stop a shot from traveling towards one of the Imperial troops on a collision course for their gut.
From the opened boxes the troopers were beginning to find, thus far, only tubes, repair tools, sheet metal and other mundane items. It seemed unlikely any weapons were to be stored in here. But perhaps some other gas masks could be found somewhere around the place.
Fayeron’s own struggle meanwhile was yielding its dividends as her loud, thumping clambering movements were replied to by the alarmed and muffled shouting of someone down the vents,
”Shit, they’re coming through the fucking vents…! Get the fucking package moving, NOW.”
Coming to the source of the voice, Fayeron was met with a small utility room with an oxygen pump hooked to several gas canisters that were presumably the source of the toxins, and a single Teliran “station resident” in work overalls along with a door still swinging from whomever had rushed out of the room to escape. The gasser, his eyes locked onto Fayeron, in his panic darted towards a nearby wrench, clearly intending to use it against her.
Fayeron lunged forward, seizing the man by his overalls before hauling him around and slamming his head back against the canisters before reaching for the wrench herself and bringing it around in a savage swing. She found her lips stretching in a manic grin, the thrill of battle and bloodlust ringing in her ears.
The injured Legionnaire stumbled backwards, holding the wound with one hand while firing with the other. The other two, safe with their helmets, provided cover fire, mindful of their shots as their ammunition ran low. One of them opened a comm to the ship, crouching to avoid being hit while they spoke. "We've been exposed. Asset is going after the item, and the auction has been called off. Debark the maniple and undock immediately. Fusion weaponry is authorized."
Several minutes later in the hangar, the airlock opened and twenty more Legionnaires in full power armor came storming into the hangar while behind them, the Discovery began emergency undocking procedures.
Fayeron’s attack was met with a frenzied struggle from her foe as he gripped at her wrist, breaking her swing to his head; leaving the two in a desperate struggle as the man attempted to roll over and bring him over his assailant. The room was now filled with no sound beyond that of the desperate grunts of the two in their struggle for life.
The attacks from the Imperial Team’s ambushers, meanwhile, were only getting more and more aggressive and multiple grenades came barreling their way in rapid succession; forcing the defenders to either flee back from the door or take the blast. The gas, meanwhile, was still flooding in from the still-active canisters. The room was now unsafe; tainted with the toxic power of phosgene.
The unloading and undocking of the Discovery was met with neither professionality nor power. The harbourmaster and his handful of largely unarmoured security, armed with pistols, simply turned around to look at the group and went silent. "H-Hey! Yo- You can't come onboard w-with those!"
The corrupt harbourmaster whimpered, his mouth agape, the Teliran quickly went for his radio as he stumbled backwards towards the exit of the hangar with his eyes constantly trained on the intruders. The unloading sequence of the Imperial freighter, meanwhile, was more muddied in trouble. The guards were too shocked to even withdraw their pistols. With the station having received no request to reopen the hulking hangar doors, the command centre made no effort to keep them open and, now being aware of the fight down in storage and video feed from the hangar, were likely going to be unwilling to just let the Imperials out.
Gritting her teeth, Fayeron kicked the man back, staggering to her feet for a moment before she spindled plasma around her hands. Baring her teeth, she came at him again, a fell light gleaming in her eyes as her clenched fists blazed with searing light.
Back in the storage room, the wounded Legionnaire pushed himself up...only to catch a grenade in the face. The resulting blast shook the small room, and the bloody mist cleared to reveal a shattered wreck on the ground. Of the other two, down to their last few rounds, they gathered their courage and rushed forward out of the room, staggering under fire as they charged, emptying their guns at the mercenaries.
In the hangar, the Legionnaires brushed the harbormaster and the guards aside as they headed out towards the auction, following the signs. Two of the soldiers stayed behind briefly to draw out restraints and bind the guards and the harbormaster, before rejoining their fellows. Along the way, they did a brief check to make sure the two teleport beacons they'd brought with them still had a connection to the ship. On the ship, the captain muttered in frustration before opening a comm to the station. "This is the Fortuitous Discovery of Profit. You will open the hangar and allow us to exit the station, or I will shoot my way out of here."
Fayeron’s kick got through as the Teliran found himself jostled, sent back and vulnerable. A look of pure terror crossed his face moments before it was crushed into a superheated mess against the wall behind him, crumbling down a second later. Fayeron was now free to continue her pursuit down the now-empty utility corridors beyond the cabinet-like room she found herself.
With the remaining defenders dislodged and now forced to press forth their attack, the dozens of Rubblers were forced to risk themselves coming out of cover to halt their approach. Multiple immature rubbler mercenaries were consecutively sent toppling to the floor with each precise, well-spent shot, but the luck of the plucky fighters quickly turned as out from the corner lumbered the armoured behemoth form of an alpha.
The hulking rock creature immediately lifted his chaingun, oncoming blasts splintering off pieces of his dense exterior before a hellfire of bullets would be sent barreling down the corridor. Other mercenaries quickly took the opportunity to come from their cover too, joining in the barrage of projectiles sent down the hallway towards the brave stand of the Imperials.
As the Imperial relief force began their march through the labyrinthian network of compartmented sections to the station, adjoined by a spaghetti of tunnels, they were quickly met by the distinct lack of resistance. The hallways were perfectly full, as locals and traders looked on in terror. The only attacks the entire time infact came from one single human pirate who, panicking at the sight of a raid by any kind of authority, drew his weapon from a crowd of onlooking civilians and took a desperate shot at the column.
Arriving at the entryway to the auction room, the force found its exterior completely unoccupied; barren. Were they to open the double-doors to access the room and look in, they would similarly find the place eerily silent and empty. The place was filled with wooden chairs, with some knocked over as though the place had been suddenly evacuated with full awareness that they were the destination of the raid. Upon the podium at the front of the room sat a crate, almost inviting them to investigate. The entire room seemed troubling.
The second floor to the place overlooking the first floor like the perimeter of a gladiatorum. With the railings that skirted the second floor overlooked being covered with a plate-metal that made it difficult to see behind them without going further into the room to go up the stairs.
“The Fortuituous Discovery of Profit will refrain from inflicting property damage to Tetlisun Station or will face retaliation from station defence systems and the oncoming homeland relief flotilla.”
Came an almost unmoved voice across the comms. If his tone was anything to go by, it was like the command was completely prepared for such a scenario, despite everything indicating that it was uncommon for this place to succumb to attacks.
Shaking her head slightly to clear the haze of rage and killtearburnmaim running through her mind, Fayeron extinguished the plasma and concentrated for a moment to remember where the response to her sending had been coming from. Glancing out the door, she focused, then nodded and set off running down the corridor in the direction she'd felt the sword last.
The two Legionnaires had done well for how drastically outnumbered they were, but the moment the Alpha hefted the chaingun, they both knew it was the end of the line. Countless bullets hammered into them, causing their bodies to shake and dance before they fell backwards, deader than the proverbial doornail.
The column ignored the shot from the pirate, but when they reached the auction room, only one went forwards into the room to look at the crate. The others remained outside, while another Legionnaire activated their comms and tried to contact Komansh's frequency. "Sir, we're attempting to retrieve you, can you please tell us where you are?"
Meanwhile, the captain cursed up a storm, swearing and spouting all manner of profanities through the comm system to the station. It seemed that whatever deceptions the Imperials may be party to in this mess, they had indeed hired a genuine spacer for this trip. Nevertheless, the Discovery remained where it was, it's guns hidden in their ports and the engines cold. Not even he was stupid enough to truly try and shoot his way out before Fayeron returned, lest the entire mission be for naught.
Fayeron’s exit into the hallways and link to the artifact took her on what began to feel like a wild goose chase, rushing through both public and closed spaces as she tried to catch-up with the getaway assailant. Finally the Imperial officer was brought to a halt at the edge of a large, clean and nicely lit lobby area with a glass elevator at the end, a small sign sat above the elevator’s doorway:
“Station Surveillance and Control”.
It was moving how there was no one else in the room, one would’ve expected security to be guarding such an entrance. But one thing was for certain: The target was beyond that lift.
Watching as the last of the task force’s defenders collapsed to the floor, the rubblers lingered for a few more minutes before evacuating to avoid the gas.
“They have been eliminated.” The clan’s leader chimed into his transceiver before immediately getting a response from the command’s operator.
“Good. Move to the auction room to reinforce station militia in trapping the relief.”
With an affirmation, the rubbler mercenaries turned tail and set off lumbering off to catch the Imperials from behind. It was going to take a short while to reach them.
The unit’s approach to the box was left unimpeded right until he was standing before it. The moment the force called into Komansh’s radio, they were met by the echoing of the unit’s own crackled voice from within the room. Suddenly the scouting soldier was subject to the splintering force of the crate exploding as dozens of people, of all shapes and sizes, rose from the balcony cover and began showering him with a small arms fire. Pistols, shotguns, submachine guns, all were brought to bear on the individual. A handful of more perceptive pirates had likewise noticed the troops at the doorway, spraying them with bullets.
“At the doors! Give them everything you’ve got!” Komansh ordered with a grim look as he peered around from an emergency exit on the second floor to the Imperial forces below. He turned to a rather rough looking comrade, definitely not security,
“What’s the situation on the package?” He inquired through the din of gunfire.
“No sign of it anywhere around the perimeter, someone must’ve intercepted it!”
Turning his head to look back out at the ambush and the Imperials, Komansh grunted,
“I doubt they have it if they’re sending that lot out here!”
Sucking in a breath, Fayeron squared her shoulders and bolted across the lobby at a run, sliding to a halt in front of the elevator and mashing the button.
The tropper sent forward to the podium staggered and stumbled as bullets bounced and ricocheting off his armor. But even power armor could only take so much punishment. And at the range the pirates were firing, he didn't last long at all, managing to fumble a grenade from his belt and flinging it clumsily in the direction of the balcony.
Outside the room, the Legionnaires took up flanking positions around the door, leaning around it to unleash fusillades of plasma fire at the pirates. At the same time, several also kept watch on the hall outside. One of them tapped his comm to try and interface with the team Fayeron had taken, and her helmet receiver crackled. "Komansh is working with the pirates. Repeat, Komansh is working with the pirates. Assume any Natar assets to be hostile."
The sprint by Fayeron was met by nought but the echoing tip-taping of her footsteps over the pristine floor of the lobby. Reaching the elevator and entering, it would instantly close and begin her ascent up towards the presumably find standoff with the captor of the artifact. She was met by a new, unknown voice from the intercom as she ascended,
“We are expecting you, do not panic and act irrationally when you reach us.” The voice calmly informed.
As the lift ascended, the closed environment of the lobby outside the glass was replaced by the dark glittering abyss of space as it emerged above much of the station. Finally, the elevator came to a halt at the top of the high-rising structure, not unlike a traffic-control tower. As the doors on the other side of the elevator opened, she was met by a little under ten operatives, both armoured and unarmoured along with a single human in businesswear.
"Stand down and we will do the same."
The loss of the centurion was only renonciled by his stray grenade, which inaccurately bashed against a supporting pillar to the overlooking balconies; sending a portion collapsing down and sending a few pirates rolling out into the open floor. The gunfire continued as Komansh gritted his teeth, watching as the rest of the forces began to listen to his orders and now concentrate their fire onto the doorway to hold the Imperials out.
Returning his attention to his accomplice, the Teliran commander grunted and gestured from him to follow as they rushed out from an upper-floor fire exit.
“C’mon, we gotta get to the surveillance centre if we’re gonna have any chance of finding this package…!”
Clenching and unclenching her hands she stared at the human. "Well, this is...not quite what I expected, I'd say. Tell you what, give me the artifact, and this entire mess ends here and now. I'll take my troops and withdraw." Just then her comm crackled as the transmission from the Legionnaires came through, and her eyes narrowed. Fucking Natar and their fucking games...
Kept from the room by the pirates firing, and lacking support, the commander took a moment to think before having ten of his soldiers rush into the auction room, throwing grenades at the pirates, and laying down far more accurate salvos of fire as they did so.
With a small smirk, the businessman shook his head,
“I’m afraid it won’t be that simple, Madam. You’ve been caught attacking the Teliran people without righteous cause, you’re going to need to be taken into custody. Rest assured that you and your people will be released once an arrangement has successfully been made to sell this object to the High Imperium… Or any other galactic faction willing to bid the highest.”
With a professional nod to his Teliran subordinates, who lowered their guns, the Human explained,
“Mr. Arcamavir does not take kindly to illegal attacks on assets like this station. Now, put the gun down and order your forces to do the same; your empire may later procure the artifact legally through a purchase deal and this attack will be reconsidered just a… Hiccup in Imperial-Association relations.”
The collapsed pirates were quickly dispatched before they could get up as the main Imperial force stormed the room. The focused fire from the ragtag band of self-serving privateers and otherwise quickly lost all organisation as the defenders were quickly overwhelmed. With several other fighters being picked off as they popped their heads over from their positions of cover, the rest started to drop their guns and hastily attempt to surrender.
This lapse in danger was, however, quickly shortlived as several heavy blasts smashed against the wall beside the entrance into the auction room. The Rubblers had arrived and were quickly taking their positions at cover across the station boulevard as the legionaries were now forced to either retreat into the auction room entirely and evade the mercenary taskforce or endeavour to break out by confronting their assailants head on.
Fayeron's gaze iced over in wroth, and she shook in fury. "Arcamavir? ARCAMAVIR?!" Grinding her teeth, light began building behind her eyes, burning bright.
Taking a deep breath, she reigned herself in best as she good, then tapped her comm and activated a channel to the Discovery. "Captain? Protocol 5, please." Then she looked the businessman in the eyes. "It may have escaped your notice, but the ship I arrived on is equipped with a military-grade fusion torch...pointed straight into the station. You will give me the artifact and allow me to withdraw, or the captain of my ship will ignite it. Come to think of it, he'll do it anyways if he doesn't hear from me within 60 seconds. So tell me. What do you value more, Mr. Arcamavir's patronage, or this station and those who live here? I do wonder how many people will die if the torch is fired."
Back in the auction room, the Imperials rallied, and the commander made a snap decision to push forward. Firing focused barrages at the walls to break open holes, the Legionnaires charged forth, spending their remaining grenades, and several even deploying boarding shields and plasma swords as they charged, a united roar filling the air.
The rumbling sound of the distant mechanical operations of the ship provided something of a meditative, isolated quality to the control room. Almost as if the space were cut off from the troubles of what was ensuing elsewhere on the station.
“I half-expected you to open fire on me the moment you reached here. Being alive this far is a reward enough, what makes you think I'm now suddenly urgent to take my life out of harm’s way?” Combing back his slick hair, the man noted,
“The name’s James Thornby, by the way. It’s not like we’re refraining from giving you the artifact. We’re just… Auctioning it to you on our terms. I sincerely appreciate that you understand that option is far more beneficial for all that killing all aboard this station, including yourself… Destroying this item and forcing Arcamavir to leak the Imperial involvement behind this and destroy the Imperium’s ties with the ASN.”
Engaged with the task force, the Rubblers at the auction house seemed unmoved by the charging move by the Imperials as their troops rushed across the open ground towards their assailants. In reaction, from the cover of the Rubblers, lumbered two hulking Alphas. Their giant armoured rock carapace ricocheting light fire as they met the Imperial charge like a trio of speeding trucks. Their move was to break both the organisation of the Imperials and to force them away from the Minors, who hanged back; continuing to harrass the Imperials with their shotguns, rifles and lasers as they tried to deal with the Alphas.
She grimaced, doing some quick mental math. They had her on the ropes, and from the sound of it, they knew it, too. Technically speaking, she didn't have authority to negotiate here, but she did have some friends in high places. The blade could not be allowed to stay in foreign hands. Whatever that stinking whoreson thought he knew about it, it was so much more dangerous. "Fine. I'll stand down under the condition that the weapon is delivered to my ship before I depart. In exchange, the Imperium is willing to pay for damages to the station, and an additional sum of 3 million bytes for the weapon. Further, you can inform Mr. Arcamavir that he has the backing of the Imperium for any...endeavors he may attempt. Do we have a deal?"
Two soldiers went down during the initial charge, with another one being smashed aside as the Alphas advanced. At a barked command, three troopers dropped back slightly, pulling out plasma shotguns and aiming before firing right at the moving boulders. Two other Legionnaires pulled out plasma swords and moved forward to engage in melee, while the rest of the cohort continued to exchange fire with the Minors.
“You will receive the artifact once we have received the appropriate payments in full.” Thornby quickly shot back, he wasn’t so naive as to simply give away his bargaining chip empty-handed. Aside from that… I think we’ll have ourselves a deal.” The businessman smiled, his grin quickly disappeared as the elevator began to suddenly decline. A short few moments later it would rise once more, now with the figure of Commander Komansh, now alone, joining the fray. The station staff quickly took aim at the Commander as he calmly raised his hands.
“Let me guess.” Komansh mumbled to Fayeron, “...Striking a deal?”
The blasts from the shotguns briefly seemed to do little against the unrelenting mountains of rock as they bashed through any lines. But with each shot, chunks of Rubbler shell came flying off until the shrapnel carapace was replaced by the unmistakable chunks of red of flesh. Finally after a minute of constant fire, both alphas came collapsing onto the station floor, grunting animalistically until the end. The minors, meanwhile, had already began their retreat from the turning situation as the full attention of the Imperials was freed up towards them until the only remaining rubblers were the dead and dying.
Fayeron shot a droll glance at Komansh. "No shit. Since you up and vanished, we had to go in." Turning back to Thornby, she pulled out a tablet from a pocket, and started tapping away on it for a few moments. "There. You should see the money coming through in just a minute. Now the artifact, if you please."
While she waited for him to respond, she tapped her earpiece. "Fayeron to all units. Stand down and withdraw back to the Discovery. Repeat, stand down and withdraw."
As the rubblers fled, the Legion troops reformed, checking ammunition and moving their dead. The commanding officer, recently promoted two ranks, responded. "Acknowledged. Withdrawing now." He gestured at the others, and several broke off to pick up the dead Legionnaires and begin the trek back to the ship.
“I had my own commands, good soldiers obey their orders, I'm sure you can respect that.” Komansh muttered to Fayeron as he stopped off the elevator, “Well, I doubt Mister Tetlisun will care little for this defeat, but rest assured Thornby, your employer’s days are numbered.”
“If he is so disposable, why does your master keep him in office?” The human shot back, leaving the two glaring. Thornby finally broke the stare-off by returning his attention to Fayeron and informing,
“The artefact will be delivered to your ship once ASN ships are within range to render a last-second assault on the station unfeasible.”
With that, Thornby nodded and gestured back to the elevator, which Komansh had returned to.
Huffing in frustration, Fayeron merely turned on her heel and went back into the elevator. As the doors slid closed and the descent back to the lobby began, she looked over at Komansh. "I do understand. I really do. Doesn't mean I have to like it, though. On that note, I wonder what you'll be telling your superiors about this mess. Although things might be a little...less strained if you'd actually tell me who your superior is."
Humming contemplatively, she observed the vista as they got closer and then the doors opened. Walking towards the direction of the ship, she offered one last remark. "One has to be curious about exactly why Arcamavir is kept around. Perhaps merely waiting for him to blunder like this?"
The troops boarded the ship and as Fayeron and Komansh entered, the Discovery undocked and accelerated out of the docking bay into a holding position over the station.
“My superior is the gentleman charged with keeping Mr. Arcamavir watched and controlled from his more… Excessive ventures, and if anything else, to capitalise on these ventures for the advancement of the Space Authority itself.”
Brushing rubble off from his coat, the Commander stepped off with Fayeron and followed her back to the ship.
“Director Arcamavir is kept in his post precisely because of these things. He might act like a loose-cannon but his high financial abilities are next to none. Should he ever dare juxtapose Tetlisun existentially. the Administrator can quite easily crush him legally, socially and politically. Today has just been a feather in the cap of what Arcamavir has done; no action of consequence will be exacted upon the director… Unless he stops doing as the Stadtholder tasks him to.”
Halting before the giant vehicle, the Teliran gave one last bow of respect before giving a brief farewell wave, explaining that he had another ship off of the station. With that, the Commander parted ways and the operation was concluded.
Watching the station from the bridge of the Discovery, Fayeron tapped the hilt of the ancient sword in contemplation. Her report to the Senate after this would definitely have to include warnings about getting tangled too deep into Teliran politics. Too risky, too many unknown factors, too many plots within plots and catspaws.
Shaking her head, she turned and left for her quarters. There was a bottle of whiskey calling her name, and the first mate looked bored. Might as well kill some time.
A shaky breath, a rolling of shoulders. She could do this. It wasn't like she was going to leverage her connections to ask permission for a paramilitary mission...
Kahtet Vos looked at her reflection in the window of the aircar as it came in for a landing on the Administrator's estate and huffed a soft laugh. If someone else had told her that they were about to make this request and why, she'd have laughed in their face. But the facts as they stood were...grim.
A transport carrying the Maker's Blade had fudged its jump three weeks ago, and wound up getting ambushed out in the Karzan Straights by pirates. II had gone mad trying to track down the weapon, and some judicious bribery and knife-work had managed to uncover the trail. Unfortunately for everyone involved, the pirates had taken it to be auctioned off on some rinky-dink outpost out in the middle of nowhere, that just so happened to be called Tetlisun Station.
She'd scoffed when II first asked her to intercede with the Administrator on her behalf, but then they'd explained the ramifications of the Blade falling into the wrong hands. The Imperium was not without its share of outcasts, and if one of those rouge groups acquired it, they would gain an aura of legitimacy that could then be used to unify the rest of the mongrels. Of course, II was most concerned about the remnants of the recently condemned House Jaros. Even Kahtet had to admit that the thought of an outcast House, unbound by the laws of the Senate and possessing the blade that had been used to smite a god, terrified her.
So here she was. Ready to go beg and get on her proverbial knees to ask Tetlisun himself to approve an Imperial strike team to retrieve the weapon before the auction could take place. Although if she was being honest, when it came down to it, she'd probably actually get down on her knees if Tetlisun demanded it. And if she was being really honest... No. Best not to think about that.
The car landed smoothly, and one of her bodyguards got out and came around to open the door. Getting out, she took another breath and composed herself before striding into the building and smiling at the receptionist. "Ambassador Vos, here to see the Administrator. I have an appointment, if that helps."
The Telirans had, contrary to what Kateht received, gained very little information on the subject at hand prior to the appointment. But whatever the cause was, it was clear from the rather frantic demands for an earliest possible appointment that it was of great importance to the Imperium. The response from Tetlisun had been swift: A meeting at one of the many estates across the planet affiliated with his political faction within the international assembly. Unlike the last major meeting of Association-Imperial figures, this meeting was set within the chilly, periglacial hills of Anteria. The frost’s cold bite was only invigorated further by the crisp air of the night. The Imperium had been told to arrive at midnight.
The hedgerows and fertilized gardens that formed a perimeter around the blocky mansion shivered in the gust of wind caused by the descent of Kateht’s aeromobile. The poor lighting limited one’s sight to not much more than the faint silhouette of the towering building that ominously peered down upon the car before it. Leaving the car behind her, Kateht had ascended up the flight of stairs before the chiseled-glass doorway that guarded the entrance to the building. In the silence of the knight, her shoes clicked and echoed out into the abyss that surrounded the deathly still building. No sign of light nor life radiated from the house’s windows; it was difficult to determine if she had even gotten the right place. But surely enough the doors swung open upon her approach.
She was promptly received by the receptionist that sat upon a small wooden chair by the doorway. The maid rose from her seat and nodded, remarking before wandering off,
“We have been expecting you Madam. Please wait here…”
Kateht was then left for what almost reached half an hour of loneliness within the dark, lifeless building. Tapestries draped over the walls, with flights of stairs arcing around the sides of the hall and up to a landing which was skirted by a black iron balcony which overlooked the entranceway. It was from this landing that the figure of a male Teliran appeared, timed with the slow increase of illumination through the building as the lights brought a warm glow to the house. Standing at the top of the stairs was the clear sight of a rather extravagantly outfitted noble. His overcoat was a Tyrian purple with a collar that nearly reached his ears. Golden epaulettes sat upon his shoulders while shimmering crystals were found throughout his apparel. The gentleman wore the most disturbing smile upon his face, it was one that could’ve reached the corners of his eyes if he tried any harder. His off-putting grin could’ve convinced anyone that a psychopath had broken into the place if he hadn’t announced himself from atop of overlook, “Welcome to Acklan Manor, Lady Kateht…”
The male Teliran then proceeded to glide down the steps without making a single noise, despite his fine, leather boots showing no concentrated effort to quietly descend the creaky, antique staircase. Once at the bottom he shuffled over with an ecstatic look, his arms outstretched to make an embrace, “Stadtholder Tetlisun is unfortunately unavailable… He has more important matters to handle presently.” The gentleman informed with an oddly gleeful tone while he once more stepped back. Placing a hand upon his stomach, the man bowed. His upper body drew so low one might’ve expected him to even topple forward as he practically kissed the ground before rising upright once more. His silky, silver-tongued accent hissing out,
“...I am Saljir Arcamavir: Mister Tetlisun’s Director of Finance. I have been entrusted with full authority for handling the Administrator’s dealings with you. You may engage with me as though I were Tetlisun himself.” He gestured for the Imperial to follow him with that unnerving grin still plastered upon his face.
Kateht's eyebrow rose slightly. She'd been prepared for the possibility of Tetlisun using a proxy, but this man was...off-putting, to say the least. Nevertheless, her business couldn't wait, and to refuse to speak with him might be construed as an insult. She took a seat in a chair at a nearby table and folded her hands in her lap.
"Well, I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me on such short notice and I presume you're wondering why I was so adamant on a meeting as soon as possible."
She reached into a pocket and withdrew a holoprojector, setting it on the table. It activated, displaying a system with several locations highlighted. "To be brief, we would like the Association's authorization to land strike teams on Tetilsun Station for the purposes of retrieving a stolen Imperial artifact. This object is of paramount importance, and is currently being put up for auction by a pirate organization that stole it from one of our freighters after a miscalculated jump. Should it fall into the wrong hands, the results could be...disastrous."
Kateht met Arcamavir's eyes with a steady gaze, showing that no, she was not joking, and was exceedingly serious.
Arcamavir joined Kateht in sitting down, his grin still across his face as he eagerly listened in to her explanation for the appointment. This smirk, however, disappeared by the end. Staring at her for a few seconds in silence, the Teliran rose to his feet, stating,
“...One moment please…”
Before turning and strolling out of the open room through one of the aged, creaky doorways. Kateht was once more left with the dull silence of the room, only interrupted by the occasional echo of Arcamavir’s footsteps from deep into the manor. It was nearly twenty minutes later when the official once more returned to the room.
Arcamavir clutched a file within his hand, giving a grin to Kateht as he quietly closed the door back behind him. He wandered over to the Imperial and returned to his seat, placing the file between them as he opened it up.
“I had to do a bit of digging for our information on any ‘Tetlisun Station’ under our jurisdiction… There’s two, as you may know. But uh… No auction planned either… So I'm presuming you mean the station set up by the Fariss Corporation Group located in the outer Killian Verge. Outside of our direct control.”
Saljir leaned back in his chair, causing it to squeak a little. Exhaling calmly as he watched Kateht with his beady eyes, the financial director followed by commenting,
“While i’m touched that the Imperium would inform us of your plans to attack the Teliran population in the galaxy. It’s, well, the sworn duty of the Association to protect its interest and people wherever they be, and nothing will deviate us from our noble protectorship.”
The stoic demeanour that Arcamavir boasted through his speech quickly changed as his leaned forward, raised an eyebrow and grinned,
“Well. Not without a small fee…”
With that, the Teliran placed his hands together upon the table after politely coughing,
“...So what does the Imperium have in mind as compensation for their most ignoble plan?”
Kateht snorted softly as she listened to Arcamavir. "Selling your people out? Well, it's not much different that what I've seen so far. Nevertheless, the Senate thought something like this might arise."
She flicked the projector, and it flickered for a moment. When the image reformed, it was instead displaying a diagram of a starship. Scales listed underneath the rotating image indicated it as being almost 120 kilometres across, a true behemoth. "This is a blueprint of a Oranos-class carrier dreadnought." She glanced at it and a corner of her mouth quirked in a grin. "It mounts enlarged spinal mounts for an artillery role and well over a thousand missile batteries for medium-range engagements. The hull is reinforced irridath with shield generators laid along the keel to assist in reinforcing the superstructure. The main shield generators have withstood almost half an hour of sustained fire from planetary defense batteries in field tests, and each generator is slaved to a fusion reactor for power needs. Furthermore, it has hangar bays along the midsection capable of holding several hundred fightercraft and bombers."
Turning back to look at the Teliran, she leaned forward onto the table. "As compensation for any damages that may be incurred on the station over the course of operations, the Senate is prepared to offer between two and four of these ships to the Assembly. They're mostly self-maintaining, and crew of Teliran volunteers could easily be trained in the operation of the vessels. Would this be acceptable?"
“Considering you want something from us, I would not recommend insulting me.” Arcamavir replied with a raised brow. The proposition the Imperial gave was greeted with the utmost interest of the financier, who in turn rubbed his chin before grinning,
“As much of an interesting offer as it is, the Telirans are not a particularly warmongering race. When we need to wage war, we hire others to do it for us unless absolutely necessary. Besides, the political implications of such a deal would not make it worth our time. The fuss over how the force would be divided among the nations, trying to explain why such a generous donation is occurring just shortly after a raid on an unaligned station of our race and so forth… Hardly worth the effort. Besides… If we are to be allies those ships would be involved in any major conflict involving us anyhow, either that or we could just commission some from you if we desired…”
Shifting in his chair, Arcamavir took a more professional and serious tone,
“At any rate if you’re serious on bargaining for Association neutrality then i’m sure we can organise compensation in another way… An attack on a station belonging to a conglomerate registered within the ASN would surely damage corporate confidence in our ability to protect them. So perhaps a better option, rather than a military deal, might be a disguise…”
He leaned forward.
“After the Imperial attack on the station, the Assembly will be in uproar and demand justice; this is where you come in. After heavy news coverage over the validity of our alliance, Stadtholder Tetlisun will make a proud announcement at a press conference: After gruesome negotiations and diplomacy the Imperium has formally apologised for not consulting the ASN before the attack. They will admit that the Imperium felt urgency took precedence and acted too hastily. This will be followed by a treaty announcing the ‘reparations’ of 400,000,000 Satis, an additional 10,000,000 as compensation to the families of any deceased and the establishment of a new export subsidy for outgoing Imperial trade within Cameta- I mean, Ancerious… And how about an agreement to reduce the Imperium’s security presence in Natar by- Let’s say 1,000 as a show of good faith?” He inquired with a small smile.
“Far less financially taxing as your offer I think you’ll agree. Of course behind the curtains there will be an implicit agreement that you will owe us a favour should we require it in future.” The Teliran returned to a relaxed posture in his chair,
“There’s the Association’s offer on the matter. Take it or leave it.”
Her gaze sharpened for a moment at the diplomat's slip as she filed the information away for future reference. Then she reached out, turned the projector off and put it away, humming thoughtfully before she spoke. "I believe such would be agreeable, even if it might take some to time push such through the Senate. We are also willing to accommodate an observer to ensure that things do not get...out of hand. Off the books, of course. Any such observer will need to be present at Dock 49 B within two weeks."
Her business done, she stood, and then hesitated for a moment. Then she reached into her bag again and withdrew a different kind of projector, shaped like a four-pointed star set into a circle. She set it carefully on the table. "When the Administrator returns, please give him this. It's a sort of...guiding light, you might say. He'll know what to do with it."
Then she turned and swept out of the room, leaving Arcamavir alone at the table with the small device gleaming in the low light.
“Very good…” The director murmured with a crooked grin as he nodded to Kateht as she rose. Remaining seated, the bureaucrat took the device and stayed there; watching the Imperial as she began leaving with a little to more interest in his inspection of her before smirking. Cramming the item into one of his pockets before closing the doorway behind the diplomat, turning, and disappearing once more into the labyrinth of the manor.
Cargo Freighter Fortuitous Discovery of Profit, Hyperspace transit to Tetlisun Station
A click and a whine sounded through the briefing room of the overhauled freighter as the hololith embedded in the table came to life, displaying a detailed map of Tetlisun Station and it's environs. A woman at the head of the table cleared her throat. "Alright, for you shitheads who were asleep when they handed out IQ points, and for our esteemed guest-" Here she nodded at the Teliran off to the side- "I am Fayeron Eroth, and the chuckleheads over in II thought it would be funny to stick me in charge of the hot steaming mess of bullshit that is this mission. The basic parameters are fairly simple, just a smash and grab, but as always, it's the details that are gonna fuck us in the ass with this one."
A tap on a pad changed the image to a more detailed overlay of the station itself. "The long and short of it is that Fleet was shipping an artifact from the Spiral, and some pirates got the jump on the convoy and stole it. Now it's up for auction, and II is shitting themselves over the idea. Which is where we come in. The basic plan is for us to dock as potential buyers at the auction and stay on the down-low while we scope the situation out. Ideally, we're gonna break into wherever they're holding the artifact before the auction and scamper before they realize what's going on. In the event that that fails to happen, House Enarius did an overhaul on this ship, and we're packing some serious heat."
Excited whispers spread around the room before Fayeron rolled her eyes and kicked the table, eliciting a loud bang. "Hey! Before you brain-dead cocksuckers get too excited, I'm gonna remind you that we're under a dictate of minimum casualties and damage. The Senate is going to be paying for excessive damage, and I will personally take excess damages or deaths out of your asses. Everyone clear?"
The officers in the room grumbled somewhat, but settled down soon enough. "Good. With that out of the way, our primary offensive weapon while docked is the fusion torch engine. We're gonna arrange it so that our torch is pointed straight into the engine, and if needed, we can use it to force the stationmaster to let us undock. For weapons, nobody is authorized for anything with more punch than a standard bullet unless shit hits the fan. That's what we have Optio Vanoth and her Legionnaires with us for."
A woman on the other side of the room saluted smartly. The rest of the briefing continued smoothly until a sudden shudder overtook the ship as it broke hyperspace back into reality, and the sprawling expanse before Tetlisun Station.
Accompanying the officers in the room stood the rather weathered and ageing figure of a Teliran officer, known simply as Komansh of Humanity for his role in the first contact between the Union and Natar. Komansh had been dispatched for little more than to confirm that the job had been done properly and effectively. The Imperium was here to obtain one object, by force if necessary, Komansh was to make sure this was the case. Nothing less and nothing more of this objective.
Yet the impetuous jingoism revealed by many of the Imperial officers seemed to only make the silent officer glare more at the situation. His hands behind his back, he said nothing; merely continuing to watch motionlessly at the briefing. Atleast Fayeron seemed to have some consideration for precision.
Before the force floated Tetlisun station. Far from the rest of galactic civilization, Tetlisun station had come into existence as a deep-space station to serve as a sort of last port-of-call for the Qanis expeditionaries into the Halo region. It was this commerce that had built it into what it was. A spaghetti-like web of decks, expansions and hangar extensions that had been increasingly added as the station’s success had increased. Numerous ships of great sizes docked or circled the station, between them prowled the odd sight of what were the eight corvettes, four frigates and one destroyer that were of varying origins; mostly being hired from the Lahmthan Kingdom that watched and patrolled the perimeter of the trade center.
Yet as the Imperium “cargo freighter” approached, they came under no scrutiny beyond the standard checking procedures for docking and checking. It seemed that the station was unaware of having provoked any potential imminent attack. Getting closer, the Fortuitous Discovery of Profit was guided towards one of the larger hangar bays as its hulking chamber doors grinded open. Sitting within were several dozen industrial drones, expecting and waiting to offload cargo.
It seemed even a suited-up harbourmaster and several station security personnel was eagerly waiting below for the arrival of the vessel, clad in a fishbowl-helmet and all. It seemed that the unplanned arrival of the ship had atleast garnered some special security attention from the station, albeit a very lax response.
The cargo bay doors of the freighter rumbled apart, revealing Fayeron along with several companions, Komansh, and Vanoth directly behind her. Walking forward, Fayeron executed a smart bow, smiling graciously.
"Honored sir, I am the captain of this vessel, and I come with a cargo of many valuable minerals and metals. I apologize for our unscheduled arrival, but I trust that the station taxes from the sale of my cargo will more than compensate for the disruption."
Behind the group, loader bots began to haul out containers that when opened for processing and weighing, revealed platinum and other metals that were prized in space construction.
The harbourmaster was very dismissive in the Imperial crew’s explanation, very rarely looking up to actually gaze upon them as he busily fumbled about with his datapad and notebooks.
“Yes, yes, yes…” The portly, middle-aged Teliran muttered to the woman as he continued to write and scribble his way through his equipment. Occasionally, he would look up to the ship and wander around it to try and record some its specifications. The security guard detachment meanwhile seemed to be more busy conversing with one and other to care about the newcomers; seemingly wearing nothing in the way of battle armour and instead armed with truncheons and pistols. Eventually the man seemed to stop, his face scrunching up as though he were mentally trying to comprehend something. Looking back to Fayeron, he began wandering over to her.
Fayeron blinked for a moment, perplexed. In her experience, most ports had at least some use for such things, but then again, Tetlisun Station was rather far out on the galactic fringe. Probably more need for food and basic necessities than raw materials for warships out here in the black...
Clearing her throat and hoping this didn't backfire, she widened her grin and slipped a hand into her pocket. "We had thought to trade them to any who might require them, but we also have foodstuffs and filtration units that can be sold, albeit in smaller quantities."
Withdrawing her hand, she stepped closer to the stationmaster, and opened it, displaying several credit chits worth at least a few hundred thousand credits. "Of course, I would also appreciate discretion regarding our activities on the station during our stay. Perhaps you might assist with such matters?"
“Metals and minerals…?” He inquired with a confused look, “Why here?”
The harbourmaster seemed quite sceptical as his eyes stopped looking over the ship and had instead locked watchfully onto Fayeron. It even seemed like it was considering authorizing station security to take her in for questioning, hinted by him wandering over to them, before stopping as the captain offered out the currency. He simply gazed at her from a distance for a few moments. He didn’t even seem to be judging the bribe, but something beyond that. Finally his face revealed a sudden realisation as he shouted out whilst pointing to her,
“You bloody Caliguri pirates are going to be the fucking death of me, y’know that?”
He quickly marched back toward her, snatching the briefcase with visible frustration.
“It’s bad enough trying to keep official logs on all you god-damn pirates coming in for this stupid fucking auction, but your boss can’t even be damned to give me any ID numbers for the ships i’m meant to be expecting. I swear to god the damn security problems you guys-” He grunted as he stopped himself from moaning any further; returning to look at Fayeron as he sighed.
“You know where you’re going right?” Or do you need an escort?”
Struggling to conceal her smirk, she sketched a half-bow. "Do we look like we need an escort?"
Without waiting for a reply, she motioned to the others and started walking further into the station proper. Several minutes later, she stopped by an alley and had them gather around her. "Alright, so that's taken care of. The stationmaster also confirmed that the auction is big news right now. Komansh, I'd like you and three Legionnaires to go to the auction house itself. If we're hung up and need more time, start bidding against each other for some random item. I don't care what the price gets up to, we're not going to be paying for it anyways. Drag it out as long as you can."
"Vanoth, you and the remaining troops are with me. We'll be trying to figure out where the items for the auction are stored in advance, then grab the sword from there."
“Whatever… Whatever…” The harbourmaster scowled before retreating to the safety of his detachment, allowing the ‘pirates’ to pass through. As they escaped the confines of the hangar, it became apparent just how complex the place was. After snaking through several cylindrical, transparent corridors to the main body of the station, they were granted a view at the best thing Tetlisun Station had to a boulevard. Before then was a seemingly infinite, open container. It was stuffed with as many temporary mobiles, cubicles, shacks and homes as it could possibly contain without restricting the flow of people. Workers wandered to and from these makeshift houses; some selling wares they must’ve collected from their last trips back into the galaxy proper or brought with them to the ship. Among these unofficial vendors was a very apparent drug-dealer, eagerly selling narcotics to station staff and space-sailors alike.
Built into the walls were several more sanitary, spaces rooms with glass entrances. One of these higher-quality containers quite clearly had the ASN logo above it and apparently served as a branch for the international government here. Inside, however, it seemed the lights were out. A small notice on the door informed that the branch had quite conveniently been evacuated due to plans for renovations and that its staff would return in a fortnight. It did seem, however, that one bureaucrat had been left inside. Sat silently scribbling away at some documents on the other side of the locked doorway.
Above them was a clear, see-through roof, displaying the web of walkways between the countless segments and chambers of the station. With a location so complex, it seemed like it could quite possibly take hours, if not the entire day, just to find the artifact’s storage without directions. Just as the group were splitting up from the alleyway nook created by a pair of shacks, they were barged through by a handful of armoured security and their captain as the patrolled through the ‘streets’ of the broadwalk.
Fortunately for Komansh, the struggle to navigate was evidently not going to be such a big deal. Which was quickly made apparent as his contingent was greeted with the sight of a large, overhanging digital panel from the windowed roof of the broadwalk declaring “AUCTION THIS WAY” followed by helpful arrows throughout the complex. They immediately set off, leaving Vanoth to find someone who might be able to help get her team to the storage site without discovery or suspicion.
Surveying the chaos of Tetlisun Station, Fayeron could only shake her head. "And I thought the Celestial Mechanics yards were a tangled mess. This makes them look sane." she muttered.
Shaking her head, she glanced around for several minutes before nodding sharply and heading up to the ASN office and rapping sharply on the glass, pulling out her Imperial Intelligence badge and pressing it against the door. Now to hope the paper-pusher actually got up off their ass...
The knock on the glass certainly caught the attention of the civil servant who, only after sluggishly looking back and forth between his work and Fayeron, hesitantly rose from his desk and nonchalantly strolled to unlock the door. He seemed to give a rather confused squint at the badge, obviously not recognizing as he poked his head out.
“...Yes?” The bureaucrat moodily mumbled with a look that clearly described his annoyance at having to get up and deal with what he presumed was going to be some snappy middle-aged female space-tourist wanting access to an information desk at the threat of demanding to speak to his manager.
Her lips curved into a grin. She was going to enjoy this...
"Fayeron Eroth, Office of Imperial Intelligence for the High Imperium. I'm here to retrieve an artifact, and I require your assistance. Go ahead and check that with Natar if you'd like though, I can wait."
She brushed past the bureaucrat into the office and leaned against a wall, arms crossed as she stared at him.
The bureaucrat’s eyes seemed to open wide momentarily,
“So that means you…” His voice seemed to trail off as he quickly nodded and allowed the Imperials to enter, closing the door behind him and immediately closing the shutter blinds; enveloping the room in only the dimmest of light emanating. With only his desktop computer as the room’s source of light, the Teliran muttered,
“Mister Arcamavir left me behind in case some ‘foreign troublemakers’ were sent to disrupt this auction or something… Now I understand why he mothballed the branch and left only me here…”
As the Teliran sat himself back down in his chair, now keenly awake and looking at the party, he inquired,
“What exactly are you trying to acquire from the auction...? These are rough people we’re handling here today.”
Fayeron smirked and shrugged nonchalantly. "My people are rougher. But as for your question, we're here for a sword. It doesn't look like anything spectacular. Just a blade, crossguard, and hilt. But, it is pretty damn significant, and it's vital we keep it out of the hands of pretty much everyone else here to buy it today."
She sat down across from him and leaned forward. "Now, we could just storm the auction and shoot people until they give it to us, but we'd prefer to avoid that. I was hoping you could tell me where items for the auction are being stored right now, and I can take my soldiers and go retrieve the weapon and get off the station before anyone knows otherwise. Sound good?"
The civil servant’s expression seemed to pale with concern at the mention of the sword. With a gulp, the bureaucrat tried to recompose himself and return his attention to the screen before him.
“There’s only one thing that matches that description up for grabs here today… It’s being stored along with several other high-value artifacts in Room 029A. I can take you there if you’d like?”
After a moment of hesitation, the Teliran finally came clean on his worry,
“I have to warn you though… There are two other parties specifically here after that thing… And they aren’t crack-addict pirates… They mean business.”
Her expression slid from amused to grim and serious as the clerk spoke, before she sat back. "I also very much mean business, good sir. The artifact in question is nothing to be bandied about, and I am more than willing to destroy this entire station to prevent it falling into the wrong hands if all else fails. That said, I would prefer exhausting all possible avenues before considering such a possibility."
She stood up, and went over to speak with one of her soldiers for a moment, murmuring back and forth in a liquid-sounding language that failed to translate. Then she glanced back at the clerk. "If you'd take us to the storage room, I'd very much appreciate it, as time appears to be of the essence."
The bureaucrat seemed almost depleted by the Imperial’s lack of deterrence from his warnings. Sighing momentarily, the civil servant nodded and gestured towards the door as he grabbed some files and began making his way through the walkways of the station.
“The name’s Mornas, by the way.” He muttered as the group started their journey.
“If you are to blow up this place, how would you go about doing it? It’s not exactly like you can blow this place up with a pistol.” The civil servant nonchalantly inquired amidst the rumbling of street chatter. Entering a lift, the Teliran took the group down several levels and through a snaking complex of hallways. It felt like an eternity before the crowds began to die down, and were instead replaced by the odd station engineer or guard. The hallways similarly became more and more utilitarian until they finally reached a sealed blast door watched over by two security officers, both of which were eyeing up the party carefully and with notable caution.
“What’s your business here?” One shouted out to the group with a concerned look.
Fayeron took a minute to consider her options as they approached. The guards were wearing light armor and open faced helmets, dropping them would be no problem at all, but the consequences...plus, they might not be able to get into the storage area if she killed them. Would be good as a backup option, though.
With that in mind, she cracked a wide grin and threw an arm around Mornas as they walked up, ignoring his question. "Hey there! I'm looking into renting a unit in there from my friend here, and he offered to show the unit itself, so I could get a better idea what I buying. Can't be too careful, right? I mean, you never know who's out to try and scam you!" Her expression shifted into a distressed frown. "And rentals are risky enough as it is, why I heard about this one girl a couple systems over who rented a place for a simply outrageous amount, then got a bug infested dump! Can you even imagine?!"
The two guards quickly raised their weapons in response to the Imperial’s advances, forcing her to keep her distance as she performed her theatrics. The security were, however, displaying little interest in her efforts to convince them of her innocence. The mention of Mornas’ permission did on the other hand cause them to lower their arms and give an almost confused look as their eyes darted to the Teliran bureaucrat.
“...But Mornas posted us here to guard something important? He gave us strict orders to let no one in until the auction is over.” One pondered, his eyes glancing between the imperials and the civil servant.
Mornas meanwhile couldn’t look more stumped by the comment, starting to stammer to try and create a reason for his apparent reneging on his orders.
“Uh… W-Well- New situations require… Uh require…”
The guards were not looking any friendlier as one went to grab the radio from his belt.
Rolling her eyes, Fayeron cleared her throat. Backup time...
"Karlen Vor." Her companions drew pistols and fired in smooth motions almost too fast to see. The resounding crack of the dual gunshots coninceded with the thuds as the guards dropped to the floor, blood seeping from the neat holes in their heads. Tightening her grip on Mornas' shoulder, she drew her own pistol with her other hand and pressed the barrel against the back of his head.
"Well...isn't that interesting? You posted the guards -" Here she pressed the gun into his skull a little harder. "And yet you said that Arcamavir left you behind. I'm smelling something rotten here, care to take a guess what's not adding up right? Now you're going to open that door for me, or I'm going to splatter your brains across it and blow the damn thing off its hinges if I have to."
At the same time, one of the soldiers switched on the comm system to Komansh. "Sir, there appears to be a situation. Please evacuate to the ship."
The Teliran immediately froze up as the gun came to his head, the middle-aged man wincing as he immediately spat out in fear, “I… DON’T KNOW! I-I... don’t know why Arcamavir o-ordered me to post guards!” He stammered before being pushed towards the door.
Turning his head around for a moment to look back at the party, the bureaucrat seemed extremely reluctant to go forth as he stammered,
“L-Look I REALLY don’t w-want to be a part of this! I… I won’t tell anyone- Just let me go, PLEASE!”
He assured in growing terror for his life as the Teliran backed up against the door. At which point it instantly opened; revealing a single room filled with crates of different shapes and sizes.
She cocked an eyebrow, pushing him forward into the room and gesturing to her men as she followed him in. The soldiers grabbed the dead guards and dragged them into the room after them, picking up their weapons as well and taking aim at Mornas as the doors slid closed again, with one turning to watch the door for any interruptions. Shrugging lightly, she leveled the pistol at him again.
"I'll acknowledge that you're probably just that slimeball's patsy, but I'm still here to get something and I'm not leaving without it. And don't think I didn't notice you trying to weasel information out of me earlier. Now find me the sword or I will blow out your kneecaps and drag you back to my ship."
The Teliran whimpered as he was yanked in, his eyes nervously gazing up to a camera watching overhead from atop the storage room. The moment Fayeron’s team shut the doors, they were met with a very audible clunking sound, quickly followed by the muffled sound of a second set of doors shutting behind the first. Mornas immediately collapsed into a frenzied cry as he thrust himself to the door, shaking his head in desperation.
“...N-No… No-no-no-no-no-no!” The civil servant cried as he urgently began pressing keys into the door’s pad but to no avail. The terrified man’s head practically snapped 180 degrees to the sound of hissing coming from a pair of vents just above some shelves of boxes.
Gas.
“...No- NO! OPEN THE DOORS!” The bureaucrat cried towards the camera as he raced toward the door to try and pry it open but to no avail.
"F-ron- Au-ion called off- S-things wrong. -ou must move now." Crackled in the voice of Komansh finally from the radio.
Her head whipped around as she listened the the distorted message before she shook her head. "I wish you'd come clean with me from the beginning, I really do. Maybe this wouldn't have been necessary." Then she took aim, and pulled the trigger. The sharp crack of the pistol was muffled by the growing amount of gas in the air, and Fayeron resolved to herself that this was the last time she went on a mission without a helmet of some sort. Grimacing, she motioned to her soldiers, who went over to the door and began setting grenades around it before backing up with her over by the far wall.
Taking a short breath, she reached inside herself, focusing on the small speck of searing fire every dreft carried. She hadn't wanted to do this, since if there were any Jaros on the station, it would immediately alert them, but...
Gritting her teeth, she pushed at the spark at the same time the soldiers fired at the grenades.
The room was immediately bathed in orange light from the blaring alarms as Mornas’ limp body collapsed to the floor in a broken wreck; his corpse starting to twitch below them. Even as the group set their explosives, they were met by the piercing screech of a microphone coming off as the voice of an unknown male stated,
“I assure you that's quite futile. We have a more than ample firing line beyond.” The intercom casually explained as the gas continued to hiss into the room.
It was only a small gap which opened from the explosions, but a hole nonetheless. The thick layer of security doors had been bent back away from the source of the blast, yet not widely enough for anyone to be leaving without passing through the bottleneck that was now spewing with shotgun and heavy machine gun fire from the seemingly dozens of hostiles ambushing the team from down the hallway out of the storage.
Yet when Fayeron searched herself for some kind of directive on the whereabouts of their target, it did not come from the room they had been brought to. But rather some distance beyond it; past the two vents now pumping out the toxins. Caught between a barrage of oncoming fire from one exit and fatal gas from the other, Fayeron was left with a choice: To make one great gamble rushing out with her men into the entrenched gunfire of the exit and bust out in a desperate hail mary. Or to potentially use their time searching the station’s storage crates for some kind of means of getting out the doorway without so much risk or traveling through the vents at the risk of running out of time; watching her team and herself die in a hopeless effort.
The choice was hers to make.
Glancing around the room, she shook herself slightly, before extending her hand to a soldier in a wordless gesture. The man nodded, then took off his helmet and handed it to her, before taking up a firing position with the other two soldiers to buy her time. Fixing the helmet over her head and taking a relieved breath as the collar sealed around her neck and the filters activated, she slipped over to where the vent was, then kicked them open and hauled herself up into them, doing her best to ignore the sounds of gunfire and screaming from dead and dying fighters behind her.
Back in the room, two of the Legionnaires left to cover her escape position themselves to the sides of the tear in the doors, avoiding the fire while occasionally leaning around to throw one of their few grenades they had left or return fire. The other man did his best to go through the packages, looking for extra weapons while keeping under or behind cover.
The broken doors were pummeled by blasts from enemy gunfire, filling the room with the ringing sound of projectiles against metal as Fayeron crawled out via the vents. The attacking Rubbler mercenaries, donning hulking armour and weaponry of all shapes and sizes, were far from reckless in their attacking. Using cover and forks in the corridor to protect themselves as they kept Fayeron’s team pinned, knowing it was only a matter of time before the gas took its effect. This didn’t stop a shot from traveling towards one of the Imperial troops on a collision course for their gut.
From the opened boxes the troopers were beginning to find, thus far, only tubes, repair tools, sheet metal and other mundane items. It seemed unlikely any weapons were to be stored in here. But perhaps some other gas masks could be found somewhere around the place.
Fayeron’s own struggle meanwhile was yielding its dividends as her loud, thumping clambering movements were replied to by the alarmed and muffled shouting of someone down the vents,
”Shit, they’re coming through the fucking vents…! Get the fucking package moving, NOW.”
Coming to the source of the voice, Fayeron was met with a small utility room with an oxygen pump hooked to several gas canisters that were presumably the source of the toxins, and a single Teliran “station resident” in work overalls along with a door still swinging from whomever had rushed out of the room to escape. The gasser, his eyes locked onto Fayeron, in his panic darted towards a nearby wrench, clearly intending to use it against her.
Fayeron lunged forward, seizing the man by his overalls before hauling him around and slamming his head back against the canisters before reaching for the wrench herself and bringing it around in a savage swing. She found her lips stretching in a manic grin, the thrill of battle and bloodlust ringing in her ears.
The injured Legionnaire stumbled backwards, holding the wound with one hand while firing with the other. The other two, safe with their helmets, provided cover fire, mindful of their shots as their ammunition ran low. One of them opened a comm to the ship, crouching to avoid being hit while they spoke. "We've been exposed. Asset is going after the item, and the auction has been called off. Debark the maniple and undock immediately. Fusion weaponry is authorized."
Several minutes later in the hangar, the airlock opened and twenty more Legionnaires in full power armor came storming into the hangar while behind them, the Discovery began emergency undocking procedures.
Fayeron’s attack was met with a frenzied struggle from her foe as he gripped at her wrist, breaking her swing to his head; leaving the two in a desperate struggle as the man attempted to roll over and bring him over his assailant. The room was now filled with no sound beyond that of the desperate grunts of the two in their struggle for life.
The attacks from the Imperial Team’s ambushers, meanwhile, were only getting more and more aggressive and multiple grenades came barreling their way in rapid succession; forcing the defenders to either flee back from the door or take the blast. The gas, meanwhile, was still flooding in from the still-active canisters. The room was now unsafe; tainted with the toxic power of phosgene.
The unloading and undocking of the Discovery was met with neither professionality nor power. The harbourmaster and his handful of largely unarmoured security, armed with pistols, simply turned around to look at the group and went silent. "H-Hey! Yo- You can't come onboard w-with those!"
The corrupt harbourmaster whimpered, his mouth agape, the Teliran quickly went for his radio as he stumbled backwards towards the exit of the hangar with his eyes constantly trained on the intruders. The unloading sequence of the Imperial freighter, meanwhile, was more muddied in trouble. The guards were too shocked to even withdraw their pistols. With the station having received no request to reopen the hulking hangar doors, the command centre made no effort to keep them open and, now being aware of the fight down in storage and video feed from the hangar, were likely going to be unwilling to just let the Imperials out.
Gritting her teeth, Fayeron kicked the man back, staggering to her feet for a moment before she spindled plasma around her hands. Baring her teeth, she came at him again, a fell light gleaming in her eyes as her clenched fists blazed with searing light.
Back in the storage room, the wounded Legionnaire pushed himself up...only to catch a grenade in the face. The resulting blast shook the small room, and the bloody mist cleared to reveal a shattered wreck on the ground. Of the other two, down to their last few rounds, they gathered their courage and rushed forward out of the room, staggering under fire as they charged, emptying their guns at the mercenaries.
In the hangar, the Legionnaires brushed the harbormaster and the guards aside as they headed out towards the auction, following the signs. Two of the soldiers stayed behind briefly to draw out restraints and bind the guards and the harbormaster, before rejoining their fellows. Along the way, they did a brief check to make sure the two teleport beacons they'd brought with them still had a connection to the ship. On the ship, the captain muttered in frustration before opening a comm to the station. "This is the Fortuitous Discovery of Profit. You will open the hangar and allow us to exit the station, or I will shoot my way out of here."
Fayeron’s kick got through as the Teliran found himself jostled, sent back and vulnerable. A look of pure terror crossed his face moments before it was crushed into a superheated mess against the wall behind him, crumbling down a second later. Fayeron was now free to continue her pursuit down the now-empty utility corridors beyond the cabinet-like room she found herself.
With the remaining defenders dislodged and now forced to press forth their attack, the dozens of Rubblers were forced to risk themselves coming out of cover to halt their approach. Multiple immature rubbler mercenaries were consecutively sent toppling to the floor with each precise, well-spent shot, but the luck of the plucky fighters quickly turned as out from the corner lumbered the armoured behemoth form of an alpha.
The hulking rock creature immediately lifted his chaingun, oncoming blasts splintering off pieces of his dense exterior before a hellfire of bullets would be sent barreling down the corridor. Other mercenaries quickly took the opportunity to come from their cover too, joining in the barrage of projectiles sent down the hallway towards the brave stand of the Imperials.
As the Imperial relief force began their march through the labyrinthian network of compartmented sections to the station, adjoined by a spaghetti of tunnels, they were quickly met by the distinct lack of resistance. The hallways were perfectly full, as locals and traders looked on in terror. The only attacks the entire time infact came from one single human pirate who, panicking at the sight of a raid by any kind of authority, drew his weapon from a crowd of onlooking civilians and took a desperate shot at the column.
Arriving at the entryway to the auction room, the force found its exterior completely unoccupied; barren. Were they to open the double-doors to access the room and look in, they would similarly find the place eerily silent and empty. The place was filled with wooden chairs, with some knocked over as though the place had been suddenly evacuated with full awareness that they were the destination of the raid. Upon the podium at the front of the room sat a crate, almost inviting them to investigate. The entire room seemed troubling.
The second floor to the place overlooking the first floor like the perimeter of a gladiatorum. With the railings that skirted the second floor overlooked being covered with a plate-metal that made it difficult to see behind them without going further into the room to go up the stairs.
“The Fortuituous Discovery of Profit will refrain from inflicting property damage to Tetlisun Station or will face retaliation from station defence systems and the oncoming homeland relief flotilla.”
Came an almost unmoved voice across the comms. If his tone was anything to go by, it was like the command was completely prepared for such a scenario, despite everything indicating that it was uncommon for this place to succumb to attacks.
Shaking her head slightly to clear the haze of rage and killtearburnmaim running through her mind, Fayeron extinguished the plasma and concentrated for a moment to remember where the response to her sending had been coming from. Glancing out the door, she focused, then nodded and set off running down the corridor in the direction she'd felt the sword last.
The two Legionnaires had done well for how drastically outnumbered they were, but the moment the Alpha hefted the chaingun, they both knew it was the end of the line. Countless bullets hammered into them, causing their bodies to shake and dance before they fell backwards, deader than the proverbial doornail.
The column ignored the shot from the pirate, but when they reached the auction room, only one went forwards into the room to look at the crate. The others remained outside, while another Legionnaire activated their comms and tried to contact Komansh's frequency. "Sir, we're attempting to retrieve you, can you please tell us where you are?"
Meanwhile, the captain cursed up a storm, swearing and spouting all manner of profanities through the comm system to the station. It seemed that whatever deceptions the Imperials may be party to in this mess, they had indeed hired a genuine spacer for this trip. Nevertheless, the Discovery remained where it was, it's guns hidden in their ports and the engines cold. Not even he was stupid enough to truly try and shoot his way out before Fayeron returned, lest the entire mission be for naught.
Fayeron’s exit into the hallways and link to the artifact took her on what began to feel like a wild goose chase, rushing through both public and closed spaces as she tried to catch-up with the getaway assailant. Finally the Imperial officer was brought to a halt at the edge of a large, clean and nicely lit lobby area with a glass elevator at the end, a small sign sat above the elevator’s doorway:
“Station Surveillance and Control”.
It was moving how there was no one else in the room, one would’ve expected security to be guarding such an entrance. But one thing was for certain: The target was beyond that lift.
Watching as the last of the task force’s defenders collapsed to the floor, the rubblers lingered for a few more minutes before evacuating to avoid the gas.
“They have been eliminated.” The clan’s leader chimed into his transceiver before immediately getting a response from the command’s operator.
“Good. Move to the auction room to reinforce station militia in trapping the relief.”
With an affirmation, the rubbler mercenaries turned tail and set off lumbering off to catch the Imperials from behind. It was going to take a short while to reach them.
The unit’s approach to the box was left unimpeded right until he was standing before it. The moment the force called into Komansh’s radio, they were met by the echoing of the unit’s own crackled voice from within the room. Suddenly the scouting soldier was subject to the splintering force of the crate exploding as dozens of people, of all shapes and sizes, rose from the balcony cover and began showering him with a small arms fire. Pistols, shotguns, submachine guns, all were brought to bear on the individual. A handful of more perceptive pirates had likewise noticed the troops at the doorway, spraying them with bullets.
“At the doors! Give them everything you’ve got!” Komansh ordered with a grim look as he peered around from an emergency exit on the second floor to the Imperial forces below. He turned to a rather rough looking comrade, definitely not security,
“What’s the situation on the package?” He inquired through the din of gunfire.
“No sign of it anywhere around the perimeter, someone must’ve intercepted it!”
Turning his head to look back out at the ambush and the Imperials, Komansh grunted,
“I doubt they have it if they’re sending that lot out here!”
Sucking in a breath, Fayeron squared her shoulders and bolted across the lobby at a run, sliding to a halt in front of the elevator and mashing the button.
The tropper sent forward to the podium staggered and stumbled as bullets bounced and ricocheting off his armor. But even power armor could only take so much punishment. And at the range the pirates were firing, he didn't last long at all, managing to fumble a grenade from his belt and flinging it clumsily in the direction of the balcony.
Outside the room, the Legionnaires took up flanking positions around the door, leaning around it to unleash fusillades of plasma fire at the pirates. At the same time, several also kept watch on the hall outside. One of them tapped his comm to try and interface with the team Fayeron had taken, and her helmet receiver crackled. "Komansh is working with the pirates. Repeat, Komansh is working with the pirates. Assume any Natar assets to be hostile."
The sprint by Fayeron was met by nought but the echoing tip-taping of her footsteps over the pristine floor of the lobby. Reaching the elevator and entering, it would instantly close and begin her ascent up towards the presumably find standoff with the captor of the artifact. She was met by a new, unknown voice from the intercom as she ascended,
“We are expecting you, do not panic and act irrationally when you reach us.” The voice calmly informed.
As the lift ascended, the closed environment of the lobby outside the glass was replaced by the dark glittering abyss of space as it emerged above much of the station. Finally, the elevator came to a halt at the top of the high-rising structure, not unlike a traffic-control tower. As the doors on the other side of the elevator opened, she was met by a little under ten operatives, both armoured and unarmoured along with a single human in businesswear.
"Stand down and we will do the same."
The loss of the centurion was only renonciled by his stray grenade, which inaccurately bashed against a supporting pillar to the overlooking balconies; sending a portion collapsing down and sending a few pirates rolling out into the open floor. The gunfire continued as Komansh gritted his teeth, watching as the rest of the forces began to listen to his orders and now concentrate their fire onto the doorway to hold the Imperials out.
Returning his attention to his accomplice, the Teliran commander grunted and gestured from him to follow as they rushed out from an upper-floor fire exit.
“C’mon, we gotta get to the surveillance centre if we’re gonna have any chance of finding this package…!”
Clenching and unclenching her hands she stared at the human. "Well, this is...not quite what I expected, I'd say. Tell you what, give me the artifact, and this entire mess ends here and now. I'll take my troops and withdraw." Just then her comm crackled as the transmission from the Legionnaires came through, and her eyes narrowed. Fucking Natar and their fucking games...
Kept from the room by the pirates firing, and lacking support, the commander took a moment to think before having ten of his soldiers rush into the auction room, throwing grenades at the pirates, and laying down far more accurate salvos of fire as they did so.
With a small smirk, the businessman shook his head,
“I’m afraid it won’t be that simple, Madam. You’ve been caught attacking the Teliran people without righteous cause, you’re going to need to be taken into custody. Rest assured that you and your people will be released once an arrangement has successfully been made to sell this object to the High Imperium… Or any other galactic faction willing to bid the highest.”
With a professional nod to his Teliran subordinates, who lowered their guns, the Human explained,
“Mr. Arcamavir does not take kindly to illegal attacks on assets like this station. Now, put the gun down and order your forces to do the same; your empire may later procure the artifact legally through a purchase deal and this attack will be reconsidered just a… Hiccup in Imperial-Association relations.”
The collapsed pirates were quickly dispatched before they could get up as the main Imperial force stormed the room. The focused fire from the ragtag band of self-serving privateers and otherwise quickly lost all organisation as the defenders were quickly overwhelmed. With several other fighters being picked off as they popped their heads over from their positions of cover, the rest started to drop their guns and hastily attempt to surrender.
This lapse in danger was, however, quickly shortlived as several heavy blasts smashed against the wall beside the entrance into the auction room. The Rubblers had arrived and were quickly taking their positions at cover across the station boulevard as the legionaries were now forced to either retreat into the auction room entirely and evade the mercenary taskforce or endeavour to break out by confronting their assailants head on.
Fayeron's gaze iced over in wroth, and she shook in fury. "Arcamavir? ARCAMAVIR?!" Grinding her teeth, light began building behind her eyes, burning bright.
Taking a deep breath, she reigned herself in best as she good, then tapped her comm and activated a channel to the Discovery. "Captain? Protocol 5, please." Then she looked the businessman in the eyes. "It may have escaped your notice, but the ship I arrived on is equipped with a military-grade fusion torch...pointed straight into the station. You will give me the artifact and allow me to withdraw, or the captain of my ship will ignite it. Come to think of it, he'll do it anyways if he doesn't hear from me within 60 seconds. So tell me. What do you value more, Mr. Arcamavir's patronage, or this station and those who live here? I do wonder how many people will die if the torch is fired."
Back in the auction room, the Imperials rallied, and the commander made a snap decision to push forward. Firing focused barrages at the walls to break open holes, the Legionnaires charged forth, spending their remaining grenades, and several even deploying boarding shields and plasma swords as they charged, a united roar filling the air.
The rumbling sound of the distant mechanical operations of the ship provided something of a meditative, isolated quality to the control room. Almost as if the space were cut off from the troubles of what was ensuing elsewhere on the station.
“I half-expected you to open fire on me the moment you reached here. Being alive this far is a reward enough, what makes you think I'm now suddenly urgent to take my life out of harm’s way?” Combing back his slick hair, the man noted,
“The name’s James Thornby, by the way. It’s not like we’re refraining from giving you the artifact. We’re just… Auctioning it to you on our terms. I sincerely appreciate that you understand that option is far more beneficial for all that killing all aboard this station, including yourself… Destroying this item and forcing Arcamavir to leak the Imperial involvement behind this and destroy the Imperium’s ties with the ASN.”
Engaged with the task force, the Rubblers at the auction house seemed unmoved by the charging move by the Imperials as their troops rushed across the open ground towards their assailants. In reaction, from the cover of the Rubblers, lumbered two hulking Alphas. Their giant armoured rock carapace ricocheting light fire as they met the Imperial charge like a trio of speeding trucks. Their move was to break both the organisation of the Imperials and to force them away from the Minors, who hanged back; continuing to harrass the Imperials with their shotguns, rifles and lasers as they tried to deal with the Alphas.
She grimaced, doing some quick mental math. They had her on the ropes, and from the sound of it, they knew it, too. Technically speaking, she didn't have authority to negotiate here, but she did have some friends in high places. The blade could not be allowed to stay in foreign hands. Whatever that stinking whoreson thought he knew about it, it was so much more dangerous. "Fine. I'll stand down under the condition that the weapon is delivered to my ship before I depart. In exchange, the Imperium is willing to pay for damages to the station, and an additional sum of 3 million bytes for the weapon. Further, you can inform Mr. Arcamavir that he has the backing of the Imperium for any...endeavors he may attempt. Do we have a deal?"
Two soldiers went down during the initial charge, with another one being smashed aside as the Alphas advanced. At a barked command, three troopers dropped back slightly, pulling out plasma shotguns and aiming before firing right at the moving boulders. Two other Legionnaires pulled out plasma swords and moved forward to engage in melee, while the rest of the cohort continued to exchange fire with the Minors.
“You will receive the artifact once we have received the appropriate payments in full.” Thornby quickly shot back, he wasn’t so naive as to simply give away his bargaining chip empty-handed. Aside from that… I think we’ll have ourselves a deal.” The businessman smiled, his grin quickly disappeared as the elevator began to suddenly decline. A short few moments later it would rise once more, now with the figure of Commander Komansh, now alone, joining the fray. The station staff quickly took aim at the Commander as he calmly raised his hands.
“Let me guess.” Komansh mumbled to Fayeron, “...Striking a deal?”
The blasts from the shotguns briefly seemed to do little against the unrelenting mountains of rock as they bashed through any lines. But with each shot, chunks of Rubbler shell came flying off until the shrapnel carapace was replaced by the unmistakable chunks of red of flesh. Finally after a minute of constant fire, both alphas came collapsing onto the station floor, grunting animalistically until the end. The minors, meanwhile, had already began their retreat from the turning situation as the full attention of the Imperials was freed up towards them until the only remaining rubblers were the dead and dying.
Fayeron shot a droll glance at Komansh. "No shit. Since you up and vanished, we had to go in." Turning back to Thornby, she pulled out a tablet from a pocket, and started tapping away on it for a few moments. "There. You should see the money coming through in just a minute. Now the artifact, if you please."
While she waited for him to respond, she tapped her earpiece. "Fayeron to all units. Stand down and withdraw back to the Discovery. Repeat, stand down and withdraw."
As the rubblers fled, the Legion troops reformed, checking ammunition and moving their dead. The commanding officer, recently promoted two ranks, responded. "Acknowledged. Withdrawing now." He gestured at the others, and several broke off to pick up the dead Legionnaires and begin the trek back to the ship.
“I had my own commands, good soldiers obey their orders, I'm sure you can respect that.” Komansh muttered to Fayeron as he stopped off the elevator, “Well, I doubt Mister Tetlisun will care little for this defeat, but rest assured Thornby, your employer’s days are numbered.”
“If he is so disposable, why does your master keep him in office?” The human shot back, leaving the two glaring. Thornby finally broke the stare-off by returning his attention to Fayeron and informing,
“The artefact will be delivered to your ship once ASN ships are within range to render a last-second assault on the station unfeasible.”
With that, Thornby nodded and gestured back to the elevator, which Komansh had returned to.
Huffing in frustration, Fayeron merely turned on her heel and went back into the elevator. As the doors slid closed and the descent back to the lobby began, she looked over at Komansh. "I do understand. I really do. Doesn't mean I have to like it, though. On that note, I wonder what you'll be telling your superiors about this mess. Although things might be a little...less strained if you'd actually tell me who your superior is."
Humming contemplatively, she observed the vista as they got closer and then the doors opened. Walking towards the direction of the ship, she offered one last remark. "One has to be curious about exactly why Arcamavir is kept around. Perhaps merely waiting for him to blunder like this?"
The troops boarded the ship and as Fayeron and Komansh entered, the Discovery undocked and accelerated out of the docking bay into a holding position over the station.
“My superior is the gentleman charged with keeping Mr. Arcamavir watched and controlled from his more… Excessive ventures, and if anything else, to capitalise on these ventures for the advancement of the Space Authority itself.”
Brushing rubble off from his coat, the Commander stepped off with Fayeron and followed her back to the ship.
“Director Arcamavir is kept in his post precisely because of these things. He might act like a loose-cannon but his high financial abilities are next to none. Should he ever dare juxtapose Tetlisun existentially. the Administrator can quite easily crush him legally, socially and politically. Today has just been a feather in the cap of what Arcamavir has done; no action of consequence will be exacted upon the director… Unless he stops doing as the Stadtholder tasks him to.”
Halting before the giant vehicle, the Teliran gave one last bow of respect before giving a brief farewell wave, explaining that he had another ship off of the station. With that, the Commander parted ways and the operation was concluded.
Watching the station from the bridge of the Discovery, Fayeron tapped the hilt of the ancient sword in contemplation. Her report to the Senate after this would definitely have to include warnings about getting tangled too deep into Teliran politics. Too risky, too many unknown factors, too many plots within plots and catspaws.
Shaking her head, she turned and left for her quarters. There was a bottle of whiskey calling her name, and the first mate looked bored. Might as well kill some time.