I want you to know one thing, learn it well VonGrippen...
I am the future and you are the past.
R-403 - Mars - Terran system - Hegemony Territory
Alessandro was sitting on the top of the ramp. Around him in neat piles were ammunition magazines, and a few selections of weapons. He appeared quite cheerful, keeping an eye on the men who were working to paint the ship and erase all of its markings, thankful that no one asked questions on Mars. Stolen ships were part of the life of the small landing field; there were a few others, mostly freighters, which were going through similar camouflaging.
He was cleaning a particularly nasty-looking weapon, an Orion sliver gun, he'd found tucked into the back of the armoury, reaching out occasionally to take a drink of Ragazzo's awful coffee, swilling it around his mouth, his eyes never leaving the doors as he set the coffee mug back down.
"We have to figure out what to do next," Katz said. He'd changed, wearing some of Darien's clothes, a slightly grubby white shirt and a pair of dark cargos. Alessandro wore just his Henley and his BDU trousers; he didn't see what he was wearing as being that out of place.
"We should stay here," Alessandro said, handing a shotgun over to Katz and a carton of cartridges, "If we try to leave-"
"We're in danger here," Katz said, sounding uneasy, "I know places like this. Karin was like this when I was growing up."
Alessandro nodded quietly, his smile fading a little to a look of concern. "It was hard?"
"It was life," Katz shrugged, squinting out over the landing field, frowning slightly. Something was wrong, he could feel it.
Alessandro watched his face and stopped to listen. The roar of ships was masking something, something steady and methodical...
"Oh crap!" Katz leapt to his feet as he saw a couple of the workers rushing past the ramp. The noise was now almost on top of them, clear as a bell. The steady rise and fall of infantry Mechs.
Alessandro stood, looking behind them into the ship. "HIM," he said above the steadily increasing din, "Ragazzo..." he caught Katz's arm as Katz began to move towards the gangway, "We cannot take off."
Katz shrugged out of his grip. "We have..."
Alessandro stared at Katz, shaking his head. Both of them knew that the Amsus Heavy Infantry Mechs' primary armaments were twin auto cannons, backed up by an impressive array of SAMs. They'd get off the ground only long enough to be batted out of the sky like an errant bug.
Katz pounded the controls for the hatch, sealing it up tight, hefting the shotgun as he jogged back through the crates and dodged up the stairs, Alessandro in tow, the two of them finding their way into the cockpit to stare out over the landing field.
The Amsus had been cautious, using the sound of the surrounding ships to cover the approach of their HIMs and LIMs. The Mechs formed a tight ring around the airfield, while platoons of Amsus troops were sweeping from trucks, advancing through the field, searching the ships, looking for them. A couple of TER-SEC interceptors were clustered behind the line of Mechs, lights flashing, TER-SEC officers holding back as they were required to do when the Amsus moved in. Their jurisdiction only extended so far.
Alessandro sat in the gunnery chair, feeling the tension build in his shoulders. It was a familiar feeling. With it came adrenaline. They were cornered, and while Katz's skills were formidable in the air, they were squarely stuck on the ground.
"Eh," Alessandro nudged Katz, "Up?"
"We can't take off," Katz murmured, watching the ring of troops as they swept in towards the ships.
"No, no, Ragazzo, the wings, top of the ship. We could run." Alessandro was already out of his chair and moving back along the ship, pausing long enough to throw open a utility locker and pulling out a yellow rain jacket and a ball cap that he stuck on his head.
"You're going to try to sneak off looking like..." He stopped, realizing what Alessandro was up to. He glanced out the window again, over towards the airfield workers in their yellow rain coats and baseball caps being ushered out of the way. The miserable Martian weather was beginning to open up with the rain.
Katz got up, pulling off his gun belt and turning on the emergency beacon on the ship. In about five minutes it would launch a FTL Relay; that drone would hit hyperspace and would scream a message to the nearest Imperial Outpost.
Alessandro moved quickly running back through the ship until he reached the back hatch and opened the shuttle bay doors, the wind and the rain splashing and whipping past them as he walked quickly to the edge, clambering up a service ladder and up onto the back of the Raptor, leaning down to offer his hand to Katz. Once he had pulled Katz up beside him they both realized the sudden moment of intimate proximity. It solicited a flushed smile from Alessandro as he took off in a light run for the extended wings that hung only partially raised over the back of a tramp freighter next to them.
He drew back, took a run for it, and hopped the two-meter gap between the Raptor and the ship next to it. Adjusting the hat on his head, he gestured for Katz to do the same.
Katz shook his head, pulling on the coat as he started to run, feeling his boots on the slick, wet carbon composites of the Raptor's hull, sprinting to land, crashing into a heap beside a grinning Lieutenant who picked him up. The two young men worked their way across the dorsal side of the freighter towards the hatch.
"...Taine wouldn't still be here," The Inquisitor walked beneath the engineering pylon of the freighter, a TER-SEC officer keeping pace with him, "He has the capacity to transport himself at will over great distances."
"I am aware of that, Inquisitor Thalak." The stocky looking human paused in the mud turning to the Inquisitor. "However if he is here, this is a Terran Security jurisdiction, we should be the ones to incarcerate him..."
"What?" The Inquisitor turned frighteningly calm, "And have you and other Imperial sympathisers release him again? Your sympathies are well known, Detective MacKay." The Inquisitor drew his rod weapon, adjusting the device callously. "You were supposed to leave him to me in San Francisco, were you not?"
The Detective backed up a step. "Chief Bashere felt that that was why I should be the liaison on this operation, because I know how Inspector Taine thinks. Look, I'm not stupid enough to face the Inquisition over misguided loyalties or an old friendship... I'm here to arrest Taine..."
"Taine should have been dead years ago," Thalak stated in that flat tone of all Inquisitors, "Your incompetence led to his interference in an Inquisition matter. Had you had enough foresight to do the job you were paid well enough to do, neither of us would be here now, wasting our time tracking a fugitive insurrectionist. There shall be no arrest, simply his summary execution." The Inquisitor turned and began to march onwards again.
Katz kept his back pressed against a protruding sensor mast, staring down at the TER-SEC officer, watching as the man rested his hand on the butt of his PKD, wrestling with the urge to shoot the Inquisitor in the back.
Alessandro nudged him and began to clamber down the rear of the freighter, tucking his hat low as he began to walk towards the cluster of airfield technicians. Katz paused long enough to stare at the TER-SEC officer before he set off after his companion.
* * *
Let Darien Taine be Darien Taine.
They hadn't spoken much since Darien had returned from the surface of Taïr using the Propylons. Somewhere Darien had put his usual uniform back on, the rumpled saffron yellow shirt and uniform trousers, the red stripes he had never gotten around to removing. His leather jacket on, his thoughts troubled, he stood under the tall windows of the stateroom looking down at Taïr.
Edward was pretending not to watch him, working on schematics of the Excalibur and trying to figure out where Rikard's FTL transmitter was hidden on the ship. His headphones on and loud music playing, he tapped the pen against the edge of the boxy aluminium clipboard Lauren had found for him. A kind of portable desk for the portable guy... he smiled.
But Darien was beginning to worry him. Standing and brooding under the windows, one arm crossed, the other stroking his chin. Wire-rimmed glasses on, his hair doing that strange hanging thing that it did, cresting the top of his ears.
The academic. The detective turned scholar-knight. His sword, the ship they stood upon, and his shield his unwavering morality.
"I'm going to have to break a promise I made to you," Darien said at length, not turning from the glass-framed night.
Edward closed the clipboard.
"Which?" He asked, pulling the headphones from his ears.
"I have to find Peligia." Darien said calmly.
"Why?"
"The answers are there," Darien said at length, "To you, to Rikard, to our freedom, to..."
"To my grandfather," Edward said, standing and climbing up to stand beside Darien, turning his head slightly and seeing the creases at the corners of Darien's eyes, crinkled with worried determination.
"I have this feeling," Darien said, "Everything leads back to Peligia... if we don't get there first..." He shook his head and turned to Edward. "Why is Rikard so desperate to go to Peligia? Why, when your grandfather went, did he up and leave the Empire to die? Why did he leave you behind? Why were you created, and by who?"
"Rikard claims he created me," Edward said with a small swallow, "He claims that he is God's God..."
Darien digested this piece of news as he turned back to stare down at Taïr. It was a beautiful world, so peaceful. Five large continents separated by sparkling blue oceans. "If Rikard created you... why? For what purpose?" He shook his head. "For whatever reason, Peligia is more important to him than the Amsus Hegemony, than me, than everything. I have to get there first."
"You know that if you do not go to Karin..." Edward warned.
"I know," Darien said, "I know. I am going to send Masconi, Lauren, and as many of the crew as I can spare... and I am going to take the Excalibur..."
"Darien," Edward reached out and took his elbow, "You must go to Karin."
Darien turned his head, looking into Edward's eyes. "Everything inside me is screaming Peligia," he said softly, "Every instinct I have..."
Edward just kept his hand lightly on Darien's arm.
"I..." Darien closed his eyes and nodded, "I trust you. I'll take this ship to Karin, I'll do as you ask..."
"You haven't asked why," Edward said, seeming surprised.
"No, I didn't," Darien replied, caressing Edward's cheek with the back of his hand, "You're asking me to do this. And I am going to do it, no questions this time, no demands for answers. Just trust."
"You're my hero," Edward waggled his ears and bobbed his eyebrows.
"Shut up," Darien smiled lightly, and let out an oomph as Edward barrelled into him, hugging him tightly, burying his head against Darien's chest.
The two kissed lightly beneath the stars, Darien closing his eyes as his hands drifted up to touch Edward's face, savouring the kiss. There was one place a soul could never hide; Edward and Elias shared so much, and Darien could feel the strength in the simple touch, the exploring tongue. And he pulled back a little, resting his forehead on Edward's. "Matty..."
"Yeah D?" Edward asked breathlessly.
"I..." Darien frowned, opening his mouth again and closing it, "I... you..."
"I know this is hard on you," Edward said calmly, reading the expression on Darien's face, and aching for him. Feeling the pain of his confusion, Darien felt like he was cheating. Yet he wasn't, and yet he was...
"I want you to have something," Darien said, shrugging out of his leather jacket, and pulling it about Edward's shoulders, adjusting it, the white winged sword patch on one sleeve, the Striking Falcon, above the command wings, on the other. The one he had recovered from the lost corvette, and had kept him safe and warm through some of the hardest places in the galaxy.
Edward snuggled into the warm leather, smelling the uniquely Darien smell on it, looking up at the other man a moment, realizing how important the jacket was to Darien. "It's a bit big," he quipped.
"I can just take it back you know," Darien reminded with a smirk.
"Hells no!" Edward replied, pulling the jacket close, "So I guess this means we're going steady..."
"I love you," Darien insisted, adjusting the collar of the jacket, "Just so that you know that."
* * *
"Think they're fighting again?" Ryerson asked, glancing at Lauren, then back towards the sliver of light from the stateroom's ruined doors.
"If they are," Masconi said, leaning against the back of the console, "My money's on the little guy, he's plucky."
"Mine too," Ryerson said, "He's scrappy and has the luck of a Karin born!"
Shale cleared his throat and the officers jumped. The large Taïrian stared at each of them in turn as if to say shouldn't you be working? Guiltily, the three officers returned to their stations as Shale returned to overseeing the re-supply operation. Excalibur was taking advantage of her time in orbit around Taïr, waiting for the Matriarch's arrival, utilizing the FTL nets that were still operating in Taïrian space to catch up on current events.
The most surprising was the absence of the Imperial fleet.
Sephradon had separated her armada, breaking it into small echelons as she scoured systems and dead space around the Haligonian and Sentinel systems. But so far, the only evidence of Imperial presence were the repeated raids of the 242nd. Light Horse, striking seemingly at random at exposed assets.
It had come as a surprise to the crew of the Excalibur that it was Colonel Ramsey leading them. None more so than Masconi; she had nodded her pride at her Father's audacious calvary raids and his guerrilla war tactics. House Kardiac was doing its part to keep the Empire free.
News, however, was fragmented. And without a clear line of communication to either Sentinel Station or to Karin, there was no way to be certain what had happened to the jump nexus. It seemed at times that the fog of war hung thick and clouded everything.
Masconi spared a look back, up at the Excalibur's command chair, to the black and red great coat draped around its back. A mark and a promise left there by the Highlord VonGrippen, I will return. And she supposed, in a way, he had.
Darien Taine had changed so much, not just for the crew, but for everyone.
She had been an officer, another pilot in a long line of them. Back to Skyella and even beyond that. The women in her family seemed to enjoy the liberating freedom that came with flying fighters. It had been that fierce independence that had attracted her father to her mother, and probably the same that had attracted Nazzien to her.
Bred for war.
She didn't really believe that. Even though National Service was mandatory on Tempus, it was there for their survival. Everyone served the military in one capacity or another. It gave lost warriors stranded in enemy space a destiny, a promise for the future... hope.
She'd never really bought into the whole God-Emperor religious fervour. She couldn't understand people who did. Though she had a fine appreciation for Galadriel's conviction, she had a healthy distance from it as well. God, to her at least, wasn't something you could quantify in a short blonde engineer.
She remembered back in the Tempus vineyard talking to her eldest cousin Maurizio. He'd planned on attending the military academies, but to become a chaplain. A man who would be sent into the heat of battle with nothing but his bible and his faith.
She'd told him that he should really consider a pulse rifle.
He'd laughed at her, telling her that his weapons were far stronger, and that a bullet couldn't harm him as long as he carried out his God's will.
She'd told him he was nuts.
Yet Maurizio had sat there, on that golden summer day, picking at grapes staring up at the blue sky, his baby brother little Allie playing with his toy trucks in the mud, while he'd looked at her and explained that God had a different purpose for him. That he'd been called to this, and that soldiers needed a man willing to listen to their fears tucked into a fox hole with shells exploding all around them. Little boys and girls scared to death and reaching out for someone, anyone, to tell them it would be okay, that they were going to be okay. That their god loved them and would protect them.
And she'd found herself wondering where Maurizio's God had been when he'd died?
That had been a black day.
The Flight Lieutenant's insignia hadn't been there more than a week when she had been summoned back to that old house, standing with her other family members as her father had entered the room to deliver the news. The ominous bottle of wine tucked under his arm, a symbol that someone was missing.
It had been little Allie, no more than eight years old at the time, who had asked where Maurrie was.
She hadn't allowed herself tears, she wouldn't. Death came, regardless of who they were. A self-sacrificing man like Maurizio, or a self-centred one like Nazzien. It didn't matter, God cut them down indiscriminately.
She remembered her first taste of true battle, years after Maurizio's death, during Rousseau's civil war. F-120s fighting F-120s... Kardiac against Kardiac. The blood red colours of the VonGrippens looming large everywhere as Kendrick's Paladins fought at their side.
She walked up to that chair, reaching out a hand to touch the soft blue material and the steel of the frame. The repeater displays and arm controls, the connection it provided with the ship, drawing strength from the ship around her. Like a mother, the Excalibur worried about all her crewmembers.
It was a large ship, not the largest by far, but she held her own. Her Imperial design, mixed with her UN heritage, gave her a cleanliness, a brightness, but she was a sword and she knew it. There was strength to that graceful ship that wouldn't be easily shaken. She'd stood up to ships several times here size and stood her ground even when outnumbered. She was sleek and quick; Elias had made it so that she could manoeuvre in and out of places other ships her size could never match. She had armour, she had weapons, she was strong.
Like Masconi.
She smiled at the warmth of understanding that flowed from the ship, pulling her hand back and flexing it thoughtfully as she set off back to her flight decks. She may not have much of a squadron left, but she was damn well going to make sure what she had was effective.
* * *
There were no stars on that world.
It was a random thought that struck Mayfair as he floated in the air, rotating slowly, bound by air pressure projected from a strange Polian device set up on the ground before him. Stripped down to just his BDU's the Polians had been through in stripping him of his equipment, casting it with the other captured equipment in the Imperial base camp.
Sergeant Onaka spun in a counter clockwise fashion to his right, a viscous burn on his shoulder had been treated by the Polians, but the fatigues were scorched, a casual reminder of how over powered the humans had been by the Polian strike force.
One of the heavily armoured beings was turning through one of the Imperial back packs, his hand rummaging around and pulling out odd pieces of equipment, holding a gas mask up for closer inspection, before he tossed it aside absently.
Mayfair watched them warily, they appeared to be deferring to one Polian, a larger being than the rest, with more ornamentation on his molten, shifting armour, and more tassels on his staff weapon.
Mayfair had counted six, but he wasn't certain, half of them looked identical to him so the number could be wrong.
A half dozen Polians against the two survivors of the recon mission. Their odds for escape weren't good.
The boy was watching him again, sitting on his haunches atop an Imperial crate, a different staff weapon clutched in his hands, darker wood sheathing a long shard of crystal, worked in a pattern unlike the others around him. Undoubtedly human in his appearance, save for the burning purple eyes and his shock of oddly coloured hair.
He seemed to be staring at the two prisoners with an intense curiosity, masked behind indifference. The rain beaded off of a beautiful coat he wore, lovingly mended and patched. And Mayfair wondered if he should try to speak.
Yet the tall Polian was also watching, standing breathing heavily, his staff at the ready, as if waiting for something to happen.
The Polian searching through the equipment held up a TAC-link and shook it, his third arm swinging down to press the button, listening to the radio crackle, shaking it a few times he held it up for the others, saying something that sounded an awful lot like "Splat, slurp schlop." It meant nothing Mayfair, whose conversational Polian definitely didn't exceed the dirty words, which he, of course, had used quite frequently since he'd been captured.
There was a rush, and a burst of noise, as the Polians looked at the inquisitive one in surprise, as he teetered, collapsing forwards, the quarter-sized hole drilled neatly through the centre of his helm.
Lieutenant Grogen and the VLR-01!
The Polians moved fast, separating, sprinting on their powerful digitigrade legs almost silently, their adaptive cloaks falling about them, shrouding them from the deadly sniper who had claimed one of their own.
The sound of thwups smashing into the forest, showed that they were on the hunt now for a sniper who had graduated top honours from the Karin Guard Academy, and who had spent years acting as a police sniper before the resurrection of the Empire. Mayfair smiled tightly, wrestling with his invisible bonds, spinning idly back towards the crate, and the young man still sitting there, a quirked eyebrow raised, and his staff weapon trained squarely on the Imperial Colonel.
"He won't get far," the boy said in a heavily accented voice that dripped with an unfamiliarity for the language he was speaking, "Jorvian Ke has hunted snipers before."
Onaka stirred, blinking as he opened his eyes at the words, struggling a second before realizing where he was and looking desperately over at his Colonel, "What the hell, sir?"
"You're prisoners," The boy stated evenly, "And shortly," he looked towards the trees and the sounds of Staff weapons firing, "You will be the only survivors of this failed attack."
"This wasn't an attack!" Mayfair twisted his head, as he rotated away, turning it to the other side, to meet the boy's gaze, "We were on a Reconnaissance mission..."
The boy tilted his head to one side and shrugged, "Your men broke the Pax oath. They fired on one of ours. That made your lives forfeit."
"We were attacked first!" Mayfair gaped.
"When one of the Archon's speaks, I hear only the truth," the boy said firmly, "Your men fired first..." He looked puzzled a moment, standing up and looking towards the edge of the forest, studying it a moment, as he brought his Staff down, his eyes narrowing.
The rush of the VLR-01 met all of their ears, but the boy was no longer standing in place. He leapt backwards with surprising agility, rolling through the mud as he came up, the shot having missed him by a fraction of an inch.
He swung the staff around tightening his grip on it, searching for his attacker...
The air behind him shimmered as the Imperial service pistol touched the back of his head, Lieutenant Grogen throwing off the Polian adaptive camouflage and slinging the VLR-01 up to his shoulder.
Mayfair smiled, remembering the pit trap the cloth had been covering, and remembering to commend Grogen on his original thinking.
However, the boy rolled his eyes, as if mildly irritated by the situation, dropping to his knee as the pistol went off, slamming his staff back and up, spinning around and up, the staff flying in his hand to level at the Marine Sniper who he'd sent crashing to the mud.
Grogen stood slowly, his pistol still trained. The young marine, clean cut and corn fed, never blinked. Top honours in marksmanship extended to his proficiency with a service automatic. They were stalemated, for the moment, each staring down the barrels of their respective weapons, the sounds of weapons fire in the trees fading now, both knowing that soon Jorvian Ke and the Polians would return.
Grogen took a slow step backwards, moving around towards the two spinning Marines.
The boy watched him, lifting his staff to his shoulder and smiling in amusement, "Go, but take a message with you," He said calmly, "That the Pax has been stained in blood. The old oaths were broken, and you will die if you return to the sanctuary."
Grogen looked down at the Polian device that held his companions. Swinging his pistol down, he emptied a round into it. The device shutting down and dumping the two tired and battered Marines to the ground, all three drawing closer together as Grogen pulled the key out of his pocket and depressed its actuator.
The FTL relay exploded from its launcher, the boy not even bothering to flinch as the device roared skywards, flicking and flashing away as its jump pods engaged. And seconds later, the Propylon recall shimmered and swept the three surviving marines off of the planet.
* * *
Trinity City was a bright and gaudy palace of light. Billboards advertising shows, or markets, or enhancements. Rows of hotels lining broad boulevards that stayed open all day and all night, flashing neon signs, holographic billboards flickering and flashing in crazed patterns, each fighting for attention, trying to stand out as being the best place to spend credits.
It was a place that never slept. Why sleep when depravity could be indulged instead?
Katz was sitting on a bus, Alessandro pressed up against him on the narrow plastic seat. They had been lucky with the airfield; TER-SEC hadn't paid them any mind, stopping long enough to compare their faces against digital images of wanted fugitives. Naturally neither of them had registered. They weren't Darien Taine or his Fifth Column. They were just another couple of nameless youths who had run away from some colony or another to reach the bright lights of Trinity.
Terran Security couldn't be bothered with a pair of runaways, which was for the Martian authorities to sort out. They had more important fish to fry, especially when the FTL relay drone had gone off, shooting skywards and jumping to hyperspace.
The launching drone had given the bored TER-SEC officer questioning them something more important to focus on. His curiosity spiked as he turned to see what the fuss was about, waving the errant pair of boys past him without hassle. A few moments later his radio had crackled to tell him that they had located R-403.
That had been hours ago. The sense of loss he felt over Firlotte, and the realization of the situation they were in was beginning to settle over Katz.
He had his head down, pressed against the bar of the seat in front of him, breathing shallowly as he tried to think of anything but what he'd lost and the mess he had made out of their escape. It had been his mistake; they were there though, stuck there. With no money beyond the little bit that he had carried in the pockets of his flight suit, that just-in-case fund all Imperial Pilots were issued with. It wasn't much, enough to maybe get them a few hot meals, a place to stay for a night or two. But it wouldn't get them off of Mars, especially without any kind of identity papers.
Alessandro had his hand under Katz's jacket, resting on his back, as if sharing a simple touch would reassure Katz that he wasn't alone. Katz appreciated the simple gesture, but it did little to hearten him. The rain was splashing down outside the bus as it worked its way deeper into Trinity City, passing the bonanza discount markets. Even in the rain the open-top cages still drew a crowd. Only the best on sale, and at times the rain made for better sales... people looking to stay warm.
He closed his eyes against the memories, turning into Alessandro reflexively, and he felt Alessandro curl his arms around him, resting his chin on top of Katz's head, understanding the fears, feeling the young pilot begin to shake as he pulled Alessandro tighter.
"How long have you two been together, dear?" a little old lady asked from across the bus. She was sitting on one of the parallel seats, her shopping bag on her knees and a warm smile on her face.
Alessandro allowed himself a slow blink as his customary smile grew curious. "Pardonne?"
"Your boyfriend, dear," the woman said with a knowing smile.
"Oh, Ragazzo? He's not my boyfriend." Alessandro shook his head firmly, realizing how remarkably intimate they were being in public, on an Amsus world.
"I understand dear," the old woman winked as she stood, reaching out to ring the bell, "That is what Mars is for," she said as the bus roared to a halt, the doors pistoning open and she allowed one last parting look for the pair as she got off into the rain, popping open her umbrella and walking off.
Katz shook his head as he straightened up. "I'm...sorry," he said, taking a ragged breath to get a grip on himself, "Just..."
"Eh, Ragazzo..." Alessandro leaned forward and kissed him fondly, still smiling his broad smile, "This is Mars, let us make the best of it." He produced a flat black wallet and turned it over, thumbing through its contents.
Katz started as he recognized the TER-SEC badge sitting inside it. "You..." he looked about and dropped his voice, "You stole that cop's wallet?"
"Sì?" Alessandro replied, looking at Katz blankly, "We need money, he had money, eh che, I take his money." He shrugged. "I couldn't reach his gun."
Katz shifted in his seat and settled back, realizing that Alessandro still had his arm around him and seemed in no hurry to remove it. "We need to get off Mars. Maybe contact General Riley's resistance if it's still active..."
Alessandro shook his head and turned the badge outwards. "No, no, we need find a place to stay," he pulled out a First Bank of Orion credit card and hefted it, "And the very nice Poliziotto Braddock has been kind to share." He ran his finger over the bumps, his eyes sparkling. "And you, you need to dress better," he picked at the dirty shirt Katz was wearing and screwed up his nose, "We must blend in Ragazzo!" He turned, "Scuzi, scuzi," he said to a man a few seats away, "My Raga..." he paused and used the old woman's words, pronouncing them awkwardly, "boyfriend is shy, where should I buy him clothes?"
"So much for blending in," he murmured, "You stand out like a sore thumb."
Alessandro turned back, looking innocent, his grin never slipping. "Ah Ragazzo, have faith!"
* * *
"Bloody mess," Mayfair admitted, standing before Darien's desk as he completed his report, "I counted a squad of Polian's, all heavily armed, and one human boy..."
"The one who spoke to you," Darien mused, tilting his head to look up at Captain Shale who was listening with interest to the report. Their two attempts to follow in VonGrippen's footsteps had led to disaster. What awaited them when they finally reached Peligia?
"This won't be as easy as we anticipated," Mayfair assessed, "I could take the Battalion back to the co-ordinates, secure the area, but we still have no idea what we're looking for. And judging by the ruins I saw, we're going to need an archaeological team to make sense of it all."
"I'm not ready to order a full-scale invasion of this Polian Sanctuary just yet," Darien replied thoughtfully, playing with the bloodied patch on the desk before him, "However, it seems that the truce is over and old symbols of protection will no longer save us..." He heaved a long sigh, turning his chair to stare out of the windows.
"With respect, Warlord," Commander Durnham broke in, "The negotiations with the Polians were fundamentally one of VonGrippen's greatest successes..."
"You recall them?" Darien asked, turning in surprise. At times Excalibur and the Commander's purged memories were a frustrating obstacle, erasing key pieces of the past that could have warned him to potential dangers, or given him that crucial piece of information that could have saved lives.
"I do," the commander responded, "The Polian's are a deeply religious race. Their philosophies stretch far back into the history of the universe. Humanity, although an old race in the current Xeno-historical landscape, is but an infant when compared to the Polian legacy. The Polians have evolved their hatred of humanity, with just cause, because of what the Human race did to them. Like a pack of wolves, humanity pulled down the greatest race of its time, in order to establish itself as the undisputed master race... and suffered a mortal wound for its trouble." Commander Durnham shook his head sadly, "VonGrippen was left with little choice, he had to negotiate alone and following their oldest of traditions he demonstrated his capacity to kill proving his strength. But once he spared the warrior in question he showed a capacity for mercy, and they in turn chose to listen to him... VonGrippen suspected that it had something to do with the fact that their race wais dying out, and they were looking for any hope for peace. A fragile peace considering, that Kardiac sought to speed their demise along with his sword."
Darien stroked his chin, "Well we are going to have to return eventually, we are out of leads, and unless someone has another idea?" he began to fiddle sketching with a piece of paper, drawing shapes, the pen scratching the doodle, shaping it as he leaned in a moment to fix one minor mistake on what he was sketching, "we are returning to Karin anyway, once there we can re-supply and equip an expedition, recruit the specialists we need and move forward." He stood from his desk and walked down to tap Mayfair on the shoulder warmly, "Thank you."
"Taking the Sanctuary isn't going to be easy, I'm going to need recon flights to get details. Marines to form a beach head, Army engineers to deal with the mines. Not to mention equipment for exploring the area..."
"You'll get everything you need." Darien reassured returning to his desk, rubbing his temple as he fished out a larger piece of paper, starting over again, trying to get the piece to look exactly the way he wanted it to, descending into his own thoughts.