by G R Fabacher
“Yeah, my parents and sister haven’t come to see me since I got wrapped up in this whole… treason thing. And, the girl I thought liked me has disappeared, which is the height of irony, because she was the one who invited me to that party.”
“’The height of irony.’ Who talks like that?” She asked
“It’s a bard thing.”
“Don’t bards just strum strings and throw concerts?” She scoffed.
“Eh, there is a classical education to the profession.” Damon rubbed his head.
“Ah, and you are one of those?”
“Eh, semi-classically trained. Dropped out in my sophomore year of university.” He looked at her for a moment, “Oh hey, you did my skull, it looks really badass, thanks.”
Hellaina smirked and flipped her hair out of her eyes with a shake of her head. “No problem. So,” she said, “how did you end up getting inducted into the corps?”
Damon rested his forearms on his knees, and looked down between his feet. “I trying to out with this lounge singer, and we sent to this party with some of her friends. Turns out there may have been some Union sympathizers and propaganda… or something… and mix all that with not the most squeaky-clean past and well… here I am.” He gestured to the yard around him.
“Doesn’t seem like they should lock you up for trying to have fun.” She said, idly rubbing her hands together.
Damon looked up at the clinking of the chains. “Yeah, I guess, but with all the anti-Union feelings going around, and you know, life sucks. Why are you here?”
“I killed my parents.” She said, her eyes flashing violet.
“Do you wanna…”
“Not really.” She said, getting up and walking away.
“Good talk.” Damon said.
Chapter 8
”A
lright, boys and girls,” the Lieutenant said, “the checks are done and our lords and masters have decided that we’re going to head to Duamatt.”
The Lieutenant paused as if to allow questions, but no one was brave enough to take the bait. Damon leaned to his right, everyone was in shackles for the briefing. As he had been stuffed right into the armor for his first mission, this was his first official briefing as a corpsman. Apparently, when heading to another world, the higher up liked to brief mid-voyage. The RNV Virtuous wasn’t the largest Republic vessel, but it was a shade newer if the interior was anything to judge by. The appeal of traveling by military vessel wore out its welcome quickly.
Turning his attention back to the briefing and gauging the room, Damon saw more than a few surprised faces at the announcement.
“We’re headed to the Seat, the big show. Gloriana has big holdings, but the Union has that damnable fortress of theirs floating right above it. Questions?”
“Are we going to destroy the fortress?” Joyride asked.
“No, we’re going to steal one of their research ships that’s currently docked up on its way back to Citadella all the way back from some dig site on Qurdas.”
Damon let out a low whistle.
“Exactly, Sacreon, it’s come a long way, and we have reason to believe that the Union has their hands on one of the Guild’s researchers.” The Lieutenant manipulated the control wand for the three-dimensional display. The swirling motes of magical light resolved into a short, broad shouldered dwarf outside of his shade suit. He had gray hair and a long braided beard. A pair of thick glasses were perched on his large, upturned nose. Damon looked at the scrolling information to the right of the dwarf’s portrait. Gorvon Gulbrock, originally from the New Builders Commonwealth, hired on by the Navigators Guild as a Magi consultant.
“Sir,” Boudira asked, “does this have anything to do with the information and relicts recovered from the Union research base?”
“That’s beyond our paygrade, but that’s where I’d put my bets.” The Lieutenant said. “Regardless, the objective is our researcher. The cruiser will be moving toward the Indomitable in the next day and a half. We’re going to start this one quiet but once inside, we’re completely weapons free. It’s going to go smash and grab, really fast. We’re taking Sparky and Jurza on this one.’
Damon gulped softly as the briefing continued.
♦ ♦ ♦
The Gryphon transport held position over the Seat of Heaven, the largest of Duamatt’s boundless mountains. The great floating island stood out starkly against the bleak tundra and icy-blue oceans below.
“Welcome to Duamatt. Second of the Jewels. Home of faeries, those sexy lady merfolk, and every other golem not in Lesser Kondar.” Damon said as he looked down from the window.
Urani smirked. “Oh, you like merfolk, huh? Is it the gills?” The trill on gills was drawn out, almost like a purr.
Damon shrugged and sat down. Shaya stood up and took the vacated spot by the window. “Unfortunately, we’re not here for the local color, we’re here for that big old hunk of urban blight.” She pointed to the floating fortress above the Seat of Heaven. It was oppressive and Union black and gray. While the finer details were obscured, even from the corps’s high position over the planet the general position of Union installation.
“So we’re going to play good guys, and finally wrest vile Union hands off the noble holdings of the Republic of Gloriana?” Damon said, stifling a yawn.
“Sacreon, that sounds almost like you’re committing the sin of virtue.” The Lieutenant warned.
Damon raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t probe further. The transport made a soft right bank and began to lower to its final altitude for the mission.
“Enough sightseeing, corpsmen, suit up.” The Lieutenant said.
Damon rose with the rest of the team selected for this mission. It was himself, Jurza, Hellaina, Shaya, Boudira, and Joyride. They all walked to the rear of the craft where their armor was kept. They were all shackled and several proper soldiers of the Glorianan Army stood by with blunderbusses. The long tubes could throw vast quantities of flechettes into unprotected or armored flesh with impunity.
The Lieutenant walked up to a man with knight-captain’s bars on his collar. Shaya elbowed him. “That asshole’s our official leader.” Damon watched as the Lieutenant saluted the man, and then the captain not return it.
“I thought he only showed up when things went wrong.” Damon said, leaning his head toward Shaya.
“I guess this one’s so important that they’ve already decided we’ve screwed it royally.”
Damon was ushered up into his armor by two armed privateers of the Republic’s navy. They sealed him up, once again the darkness of the armor’s interior surrounded him before it was replaced by magical light.
“Do you guys do this every time? I wouldn’t know, I was just placed in some unpowered armor and pushed out a ship.” Damon asked, voice distorted through the speaker.
“Yeah, it’s only more boring after that first time…” Urani said. She was still in convict orange because she was benched. Damon got a good look at the extensive tattoo work on her arms and chest.
“Don’t pout because I get to do all the fun stuff.” Damon shot back.
“Not this time, Damon,” Shaya said, “look.” She turned her head toward Jurza.
The massive orc was busy stepping into a quite unusual suit of armor. It was much larger and he had to climb up one leg and slid in. The suit positively hummed with magical energy.
Boudira followed the suit up with her orange dot eyes. “Oooh, a modified dwarven Stone Breaker? No, an Ogre, where did you blue-skiers get a freakin’ Ogre?”
The Ogre was an impressive piece of techno-magical innovation. It had two large feet with five flat claws that could grip onto numerous surfaces. Its arms were large that looked fit for a construction job or a bank robbery. On its broad shoulders were mounted a small anti-vehicle launcher and the other had a rapid fire, independently-targeting flechette cannon. The wrists also had a flamethrower and a blunderbuss, in addition to some nasty looking spikes. On the suit’s broad back was a large armored housing that held i
ts massive crystal.
“I can’t believe Jurza gets to pilot an Ogre.” Boudira said sullenly over the loudspeaker.
“I’m more worried that he hasn’t stopped laughing since they buttoned him up.” Damon said.
The manic baritone laughter of the male orc filled the cargo bay of the Gryphon as the official army techs bolted more onto the standard suits of armor. Each regular corpsmen got the standard loadout with their man-portable anti-armor launchers replaced by with small multi-chamber grenade launchers. Perhaps it was a tradition or just sage wisdom, but Damon hadn’t received one his first time out. This time he was not left out of the fun.
“If you need to reload just pop the catch, load the grenades, and pop it closed. Then pull the trigger.” The engineer said.
Damon nodded. They also gave them a collapsible riot shields. They had their own independent magical crystals allowing for its own wards.
“Sir,” one of the techs called to the knight-captain, “This one has a Union Manticore.”
The captain walked over to Damon and sneered up into his visor. “Well, well, the traitor uses a Union pistol. Why is that, convict?”
“Because its owner was dead, and it just looked so sad. Can I keep it,? Can I keep it, huh?”
The captain made a disgusted face. “It’s empty anyway, good luck using it. We don’t carry ammo for inferior weapons.”
“Well,” Damon said, “I was about to pop over to the Unies and ask to borrow a cup of a flechettes. You want me to pick you up something while I’m there?”
Damon watched as a vein began to bulge in the knight-captain’s forehead. Damon always imagined these kinds of pedantic people to be podgy little men with weasel faces, but the knight captain was almost recruitment-poster levels of handsome. His brown hair was immaculately coifed, shorn short on the sides. Damon saw white straight teeth behind the snarling.
“You will show me respect, you piece of gutter shite.” The man poked him in the chest before fixing his collar and storming away. The Lieutenant walked past Damon and gave him a look. A look that Damon couldn’t figure out for the life of him what it meant.
“Come to mama…” Boudira said, making grabby hands with her eyes, and considering they were behind obsidian goggles, it was a standout feat. The techs brought forth a dolly and on it was a square piece of metal with a handle sticking out of it.
“What is that, Boudira?” Damon asked.
“That, my ignorant human compatriot, is a dwarven war hammer. Twenty percent mythril to orchilium alloy mixture. Extendable handle for one or two handed use, oh and a flight charm tied to my gauntlet. It’s beautiful.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” The tech said.
“Claveros, don’t compliment the criminally-insane dwarf.” The knight-captain snapped.
The tech attached the hammer to Boudira’s chest. There was a large clang as it snapped secure.
Shaya got a pair of elvish weapons. They were handles with crescent-moon blades.
“Hey, what do I get?” Damon asked as more and more additional weapons were passed around to the corpsmen.
“You get to keep your filthy Unie pistol.” The knight-captain said, “If you have a problem I suggest you take it up with the nearest Union sergeant-at-arms.”
“Maybe I will…” Damon said under his breath.
Chapter 9
If there were any wind in the void, Damon imagined it would be buffeting him pretty fiercely. The back of the Gryphon transport was open, its rear cargo ramp was lowered into the black emptiness that surrounded the planet Duamatt. The red light of the staging lanterns bathed the corpsmen, adding a ghastliness to their skull-covered faceplates.
“Unlock movement controls.” The Lieutenant said, coming in over the scrycomm. Damon saw a rune on his faceplate light up. The subtle whine of magically driven joints and servos filled his head before it evened out.
“First two, jump.” The Lieutenant said.
Shaya and Joyride ran out and leaped into the void.
“Second two, jump.”
Boudira and Hellaina jumped
“Third two, jump.”
Damon began running toward the opening, and to his surprise jumping out into the void didn’t bother him as much as the blind fall from a few weeks ago. Jurza in his Ogre took few steps, the craft having trouble keeping an even keel when hammered with the great bounding steps.
Jurza took a swing at Damon, but the bard saw it coming and ducked into a slide, skidding over the edge of the ramp. The orc laughed as the squad headed toward Duamatt’s atmosphere. Damon locked his legs and put himself into a kind of swan dive. The planet was large and Damon could see the curve of the horizon. Using his optics, he turned the black spot of the Indomitable into the large floating fortress that occupied the airspace over the Seat.
Damon had been a kid when the first real war between Gloriana and the Union of Hyperia had broken out. No one in either nation’s ruling elite decided to fight seriously on Terrasti, instead they decided to duke it out over the various holdings on Duamatt. The Union, wanting to make a name for itself after throwing off the last vestiges of the Azure Crown Duchy, decided to attack the AC’s ever-present benefactor: the Navigators Guild. A bold plan to seize the big port on the Seat of Heaven ended in a bloody stalemate when the Republic’s battle fleet engaged the Indomitable. Eventually a truce was reached and as long as they flow of commerce wasn’t interrupted the airspace around the Seat of Heaven was considered the Union’s.
Damon looked at the imposing sky fortress. The height of Union engineering, it reportedly cost more than ten battleships. With his enhanced vision Damon could see the individual weapon turrets and even small strike craft running patrols.
The fortress was two four-sided pyramids attached at their bases, and the tops were cut off to make room for two rounded domes. Each one contained one half off the magical generators that kept over a mile’s worth of fortress aloft. The black-metal composite seemed to absorb light from the surrounding sky.
“Look at the size of that thing.” Boudira said over the scrycomm.
Damon had to agree with the succinct statement. The fortress was something of which the Union could be proud. All those years ago, when it had taken the Seat of Heaven from the Azure Crown and its allies it had shocked the worlds with the industrial might its brand new political system could bring to bear.
“Suddenly, I’m struck that this is not the sanest of plans.” Damon said.
“Eh,” Shaya said, “We’ve done worse. Um… haven’t we?”
The line was silent after that.
Damon focused on the looming fortress wall.
“Spread out and wards to maximum.” Joyride said. “We’re about to enter Duamatt’s atmosphere.”
Damon used his faceplate interface to max out the wards toward the front. Soon the heat was building around the front, and his faceplate began to dim in response to the corona forming about a yard in front of him. If it weren’t for his wards he would have been incinerated and turned into so many particles of ash floating in the upper atmosphere. It took them several minutes to navigate the upper atmosphere before wind resistance began to arrest their motion.
Now Damon didn’t need enhanced vision to make out the imposing fortress.
“Guys, I’m getting lots of threats on my scryer.” Hellaina said.
“They’re just air patrols. They shouldn’t be able to detect us now that we’ve entered into the atmosphere proper.” Joyride said.
An explosion rocked Damon spending him into a lateral spin.
“Shite! Never mind, they saw us. We’re going in hot. We’re going in hot!”
Damon managed to right himself. He had been thrown off the target location again. While he could certainly fall farther to catch up that wouldn’t put him back on target to reach the cargo bay that was the planned entrance.
A large cannon loomed below him “That’ll work.” Damon said aloud. Activating his feather bubble he slammed into the gun’s great
barrel before getting his hands to latch onto the surface. He began climbing toward the muzzle.
“Guys I’m up, about… I don’t know… twelve or so levels from the target. I’ll catch up.”
There was a round of confirmations.
“How are you going to get in, Bard?” Sparky asked.
“I don’t want to say in case this goes terribly, terribly wrong.”
“Be careful, Bard,” the Lieutenant cut in, “we’re cutting our scrycomms in ten seconds.”
“Got it,” Damon said.
At the edge of the barrel Damon pulled out the spare clip of grenades for his launcher and twisted the runes into the time delay format.
“Uh… Boudira… how many seconds would it take for a clip of grenades to roll all the way down the barrel of one of the Indomitable’s main guns?”
“Twenty seconds, twenty-eight to play it safe.” She replied far too quickly for Damon’s comfort.
He set the half-minute timers and hit the arm rune. It glowed and the time appeared. Damon threw the clip down the barrel as hard as he could. He rolled over and lay on the barrel staring up at the clouds.
“In the land of my fathers, pride and joy she bears. Gloriana, home of freedom and justice fair.” Damon sang softly, humming the next few bars.
“Is that the Glorianan national anthem?” Sparky asked.
Suddenly there was a dull boom and a great round of vibrations that traveled over his spine. He would have hated feeling that without the armor. Grabbing the edge of the barrel he gripped it and swung himself inside. Sparks jumped off his armor as he slid down the length of it. Pulling his main weapon from its place on his thigh, he flicked the safety off. It took him several seconds to slide into the firing chamber for the large cannon where the smoke was thickest. Damaged bits of techno-runic apparatus broke free as he landed against the back of the firing chamber’s massive breech.
Rolling to the right Damon shot a technician and soldier unlucky enough to have to investigate why the gun exploded. Damon rolled out of the breech and onto the floor deploying the shield on his left arm as the door slid open and several Union soldiers swarmed inside. The shield was tall and light, the wards were so strong that a blue half dome extended for several feet in every direction.