I've edited the audio recording of the first session of Space Opera 2760 - Lower Frontier Tales and have experimented with a "sprinkling" of sound effects and background music here and there. The goal is to retain the verbal "entirety" of a live game session while enhancing listener pleasure with traditional audio entertainment.
Stab pulled out a multi-tool containing a monofilament blade and the battery powered saw sliced through the duralloy fencing with a wave of his hand. He peeled back the fence from one side of the cut and stood back. Dab stepped through, weapon up, and posted up in a crouch several meters onto the grounds. Captain Green slipped through followed by Saars. Stab joined the troupe.
"You two go right, Saars and myself go left. Assess whether we got threats from each of these grow houses. We meet up in front of the control tower at the south end. Comms open, count off your buildings." Green gave his orders clearly without letting his voice carry. The rain had let up and more of the grounds could be seen through the lightening haze. Rumbles of the next weather system could be heard above black swollen rain clouds. The squad broke up and they made quick splashing sounds as they trotted through the mud.
Green and Saars had just passed the second of the three long buildings on their side of the complex when Dab's voice crackled over the coms.
"We've got the door on the west side open. No lights or power, all quiet."
"Post up, we'll come to you. We are going to cross straight over just south of you between building two and three." Green and Saars splashed their way across the grounds and caught up to Dab and Stab who were up against the wall, one on either side of the open door. Captain Green popped on the light attached to his carbine and shined it through the open door into the dark building's interior. Without a word he slipped inside, Dab right on his heels. Green gave the all clear and the other two men entered as well.
It was a typical farm outbuilding. There were six slug pools spaced evenly on the floor of the thirty meter long building. Normally the circulating equipment would be running, churning up the brown slop and feeding nutrients into the tub full of wriggling Skalvil mud-slugs. But the machines were off. Green and Dab were scanning the surface of the first large grow tub with their gun-mounted lights.
"What the hell?" Dab stated flatly. The slug tubs were not all that deep. A meter or so of organic brown slop. This made it easy to see the fermenting pool of compost was jammed with eight or more naked bodies. All appeared dead. They had been soaking in the slime for more than a week, if the bloated bodies and loose, rotting skin were any indication.
"Pull them out. I want to look at them." Green ordered his men. Saars looked on as the dead were pulled from the mud and laid like wet lumps onto the concrete floor of the building. Non-descript, men and women. Four of each. No obvious signs of death. No bullet wounds, cuts or blunt trauma.
"I've seen that mark before," Saars says. He points to one the deceased's chest. A curious symbol is carved into the soggy flesh. Like a stylized lower-case "n" with three circles clustered within the upside down arms of the n. The terrorists which we killed at Oh-Rif. They all had this same symbol carved on their chest. And recently, like these poor bastards. This definitely ties the theft of the dead scout from the water plant to these slug farmers."
"Stab, scrape a skin sample off a couple of these stiffs. I want Collice's lab rats to test for poison and possible psycho-actives." Green ordered. "Dab, looks like your guess on cult looniness is close to the mark."
"What do you expect, living out on the wastes making your own clean water and clean air? Sooner or later something breaks down under corrosion and everyone starts huffing fumes and shooting their neighbors." Dab finished his statement with a quick scan of the ceiling with his light.
"Okay, I've recorded some images." Saars put the pocket vid device back in his coat. "We should get into the control tower. If anyone is still alive around here they will be there. Or below in the living quarters."
When Saars finished his debrief he waited for Collice to reply, rattling his ice around in his glass. He backed the last of his drink and sat back, waiting.
"I would like to send in a recovery team. If we have been able to locate the likely location of the stolen corpse this fast then OHRIF won't be far behind." Collice announced after completing his thoughtful pause. I have a team of three specialists ready to go. Very good at what they do. I would like you to lead them in. You'll be well-paid of course."
"What does 'well paid' amount to, exactly?" Collice smiled and stated a number which Saars definitely considered meeting the criteria for well paid.
"I'm sure your comms and computer skills are going to be necessary.. Your crew will handle anything dirty so hopefully you won't have to shoot at people. They also have strict orders not to let you get killed. Deal?"
Saars nodded. "We'll need another grav vehicle. The last one is trashed by plowing through a Wempeer flock. It will need some bodywork before you send it up again."
Saars assault team was made up by a Captain Green and "spiff-jacked" pair of brothers, Stab and Dab. You could tell by their comm units being implanted in their neck. These would be feeding someone on Collice's end the pair's vital signs, live video, tracking beacon, etc. All wore high-end tactical gear (lacking any kind of insignia, of course), auto rifles built to withstand Skalvil's constant acid rain, sensing equipment, targeting shells, "air-eaters", and plenty of clips of armor piercing rounds. Green was a dry, somber man who served in the Inner Systems. Straight army. Dab and Stab apparently served under Green and followed him to the Outer Frontier in search of high paying merc jobs.
Dab did all the talking. To Green. Stab didn't say jack. Phlegmatic and sneering, the most noise Stab would make was a slight clucking sound in the back of his throat. Off and on. He looked bored to be there. Dab went down preferred landing and approach vectors with Green one more time and got into the new grav vehicle. Stab stored a bag of rifles and assorted small arms in the rear hatch. The grav unit was another high performance, all terrain jeep fitted out to tackle the cracked and splintering canyons of the Skalvil Wastes and not break down under the strain of the acid rain storms which were constant on this planet. Saars could tell it was clad in heavier armor. He stuck his auto-mag in his jacket pocket and climbed in next to Green, who was driving.
The garage doors sealed, the roof peeled back, and the Grav lifted into the purple, cloud-choked sky. The lights of Kazawan City were quickly lost behind a screen of drizzle. The heads-up 3D diagram gave a luminous depiction of the ground they were flying over. Green and red lines displayed the canyons, elevations and weather patterns on the windshield. The purple haze and mist ate up the arc lights. Green flew fast and steady.
"Their is a decent sized bluff crowding the farm from the north. Land on the backside of that." Saars instructed. "This rig have good jamming equipment?"
"Please," Green replied, not taking his eyes off the wet, purple slop they sailed through. "Tell me something about these slug farmers." he asked.
"Not much to tell. The place has been a low output farm for ten years, maybe. The only anomaly I can find is they stopped doing business a month ago. Stopped shipping protein, turned back regular suppliers. I mean, it isn't anything they can't do, but hard to make a living if you aren't selling anything. Besides, these places have a clan size of 15-30 people. How much slug protean does a farm family need?"
"They've gone looney. Someone licked the wrong slug. We are going to find a colony of tripping sub-surface farmers. I sure hope I don't have to shoot one of these farmer raving and waving plasma cutters on a three-day burner." said Green shaking his head. Dab and Stab fingered and inspected their carbines again and again. The grav unit had to endure a sudden acid rain surge. It burnt out the exterior antenna and tight-beam transmitter. This meant communication between the squad and Collice was severed. Couldn't be helped. Once inside the compound Saars was sure he could hook something up and get back in contact.
"Strap in." Green announced. He cut speed, dropped the generator and the grav plummeted downwards. Ten meters from the ground, if the display was to be believed, Green popped the grav generator back on and the vehicle settled with a practiced, sudden stop. Green was able to make a slam landing without so much as a meter skid. They all pulled down their protective hoods and stepped out onto the rain soaked hill. Gravel-thick mud slurried around their boots and the rain came straight down. Their goggles pulled the disorientating purple of the atmosphere from their vision.
It was a short walk to the crest of the hill. The farm laid below them. Rain bathed the grounds. Marking lights winked from their perch atop the perimeter fence. No could be seen moving on the surface and no lights appeared to be on in the slug hatcheries. At the opposite end of the farm from where they looked down they could see the communications tower. This concrete, two-story bunker would also harbor access below ground where the colonists would be living.
"Looks quiet and clear. Only signal coming from the tower says the farm is closed to landings." This was Dab. He was looking at his scanner wrapped in a tough, clear plastic.
"Okay, lets descend in line, three meters apart. Once at the fence line Stab cuts it open and we walk right in. Any one approaches you, wants to talk to you, you put them down. We are here to pick up the package and assume the farmers don't want us to take it. No fracking around."
The squad picked their way down the slippery hill and in ten minutes were standing in the shallow puddles along the slug farm's northern fence line.
Saar was modifying Anderson's power converters when he showed to pick them up.
“Wait out side. I'll get 'em for you.” Saar then plugs in the data chip and begins cracking. There are 8 files. All of various degrees of complexity, therefore various degrees of time to crack. Saar goes to work on the easiest. Time stamped photos of a corporate party in Kazawan City. The photos seem to focus on one individual in particular. It will take a facial recognition app to try and figure out who he is. Fifteen minutes tops. While the comp runs the program Saar looks up at the wal-vid broadcasting the latest scream sheet.
“Gang violence breaks out at the Synapsis club between off-duty Omni Security and the Binary Dogs. No information yet on why these off-duty officers were at the club or why they engaged gang members, but Omni Security has requested anyone with any information on the whereabouts of Officer Jones [Picture] or Omni Contractor Hernandez [Picture] please contact Omni Security immediately. They should be considered armed and dangerous.”
A series of video camera footage just outside the entrance of the club in the top floor of a high-rise is being looped showing Jones and Hernandez entering the club with two other men. Quick head shots of the deceased Binary Dogs are displayed, then the usual quick reactionary crowd shots of the average Vanders citizen at the scene complaining about police corruption, the drug-trade and the poor colonists stuck in the middle trying to earn a living.
“What the frak?!” When Saar
left Jones and Hernandez they were heading to the Below Zero to collect the
cash Bargar Vas promised them for getting the water turned back on out at
Oh-Rif. What were they doing hours later at the Synapsis in a gunfight? And
where is Schmidt? Sergeant Schmidt ran the mission out at Oh-Rif. Last he knew
he had just got done debriefing the chief and collecting credits. Well it sure
as purple-acid-rain did not concern Saar at the time. “My fraking fingers
hurt.” He winced as he stabbed his deck for the readout.
Paulo Song, Omni Sun,
COO Omni Horron Research Facility, responsible for the agra-augmentation
program being conducted there.
“Tell him I'm not here.”
“Okay.”
Saar bends back over his comp and begins an extraction program on the next most easily hacked piece of data. Six hours. “Run it.”
“He says he can't really
leave until he sees you.” the apartment's com crackles again. Aw hell,
Saar punches the door access code. Anderson and Yang come back in with a well
dressed man. Obviously Kazawan City, not a colonist. Anderson introduces
him as his boy Hugo Rossi. Both Rossi and Saar look at each other trying to
figure out why in the hell either one them would be talking to each other.
Rossi trimmed out, good job obviously, standing in a pumped cube in the dome
talking to cut up, electrocuted, dying computer hack. Saar was concluding once
again he was shit at choosing friends.
“My employer, Mr. Down, would like to talk to you if you wouldn't mind?”
“Can he patch me up?”
“I hope so, or I've taken a two-hour
tube ride for nothing.”
“Who's your boss?”
“Collace Down. His son just
returned from Xxcarvis. He is concerned about his son, the condition of his
return, and for some reason now he wants to talk to you. He also advises that
we try and leave the dome as soon as possible.”
“Down is big in the
professional circuit,” Anderson beams, “his son, Flare is probably the top
celebrity sports star on Skalvil. I've raced against him before, he's totally
cool.”
“What was reported. Some
unknown armed group had taken over the facility, disrupted the water flow.
Don't know why. Attracted a whole bunch of attention. How could it not. Angry
colonists were outside ready to force their way in if the water didn't get
turned back on. My group secured the facility, engaged the terrorists. We
killed some. Some got away. Looks like they killed the whole staff their too.
Didn't make much sense. Still doesn't. But it paid. Once we contacted Omni with
a sit-rep the salaried boys rolled in and told us to go home.”
“The official report is they came across Flare in life-pod orbiting the gas giant at 0304. Still 2 parsecs out from Xxcarvis. Word is he was never on Xxcarvis. No trace of his ship, his crew. He is not okay. Something happened to him. The surviving scout from the mission I have been unable to find out who or were he is. Probably under lock and key at their base here in the city. I was able to find out the body of the dead scout had been transferred to Oh-Rif. So I want to ask you again: What did you find?”
Saar let the stimpacks take him far away from his singed skin and lacerated torso. “They had some EMP device. Detonated in the power room. Brought the whole facility down. No power, no communication. They killed all the staff and took a body. They fled on boat out into the Skalvil Sea. We found it beached on the north shore. Original crew bound and executed. Most likely killed before the terrorists used the boat to enter Oh-Rif. They fled into the wastes on a four-wheeled ATV. The frequent acid-rain storms had quickly made their trail impossible to follow. Schmidt returned to the Omni tower to debrief and collect pay. I came home to find, well all of you.”
Saar looked at the rest of
the PC's. They all seemed happy with their drinks. “All I can say it didn't
make any sense.”
“I want to take a look at that body. Do you think you can find it for me?”
“Sure, were do you think we should look?”
“There isn't much north of the Skalvil.” Downs picks up a remote from the table and turns on the his holo-vid. A three dimensional image of the rain scarred wastes of Skalvil in brilliant display. The Skalvil Sea was prominent then the display zoomed into the terrain north. Three colonies were identified: Krunner Farm, Harean Station and Horsail.
“Harean Station is a slug
farm, protein bases for you poor colonist’s food supplies out there on the
plains and you poor dome'ers living on subsidy. Krunner Farm
harvests Hellboria Wood. Very hard, very colorful when back lit and
very expensive. My bar top here is a nice specimen. Horsail is a fracking
operation. Anyone heading north via ATV's cannot get very far without living,
knowing or being supplied by one of these colonies. Someone is going to
know who they are and where they are. I suggest you start out immediately. Omni
knows as much as this too. If they are hot to track down the terrorists, they
will be heading there soon. But then again, now the facility is back up maybe
not so soon. Hugo here has tuned up the Trell III, a capable back
country air raft. Enclosed of course. He has agreed to accompany you all. As a
top mechanic you shouldn't have to worry about breakdown.”
Session
PC's:
Hugo
Rossi – Head Mechanic for Collace Down's racing team.
Mr.
Anderson – Local Vandars amateur racer.
Yang –
Just another local Vandars tough who hangs out with Mr. Anderson.
Saar –
Omni Security Vandars contract worker and computer hack.
Notable
NPC's:
Clug – a
bodyguard who works for Collace Down
Collace
Down: Rich citizen of Kazawan City.
Paulo
Song – Omni Sun CEO
Cisero –
Headman of the Krunner Farm. They manufacture high end finishes from Hellboria
Wood.
Trell 3
– All terrain air-raft loaned out by Collace Down
Notable
Locations:
Kazawan
City
New
Lanark Apartments, Owens Block, Vandars
Krunner
Farm, colonists who are growers of Hellboria Wood.
Harean
Station, a grotto where colonists harvest Harean slugs. The slugs are an
important source of protein for the planet’s food supply.
Horsail,
a colonist hydrogen fracking operation.
PC #2
and #3 are Anderson and Yang. Both are Vanders' locals. Mr. Andeson likes to
think of himself as kind of a hotshot on the amateur race circuit while Yang
usually has nothing to do but hang out with Anderson. Saar was modifying
Anderson's power converters and he is here to pick them up.
Chapter
1
|
W |
ait outside. I will get 'em for you.” Saar then plugs in the data chip and begins cracking. There are 8 files. All various degrees of complexity, therefore various degrees of time to crack. Saar goes to work on the easiest. Time stamped photos of a corporate party in Kazawan City. The photos seem to focus on one individual in particular. It will take running a facial recognition app to try and figure out who he is. Fifteen minutes tops. While the comp runs the program, Saar looks up at the wal-vid broadcasting the latest scream sheet.
“Gang violence breaks out at the Synapsis club between off-duty Omni Security and the Binary Dogs. No information yet on why these off-duty officers were at the club or why they engaged gang members, but Omni Security has requested anyone with any information on the whereabouts of Officer Jones [Picture of Jose looking up from a bowl of cereal] or Omni Contractor Hernandez [Picture of Paul riding an electronic bull] please contact Omni Security immediately. They should be considered armed and dangerous. A series of video camera footage just outside the entrance of the club in the top floor of a high-rise is being looped showing Jones and Hernandez entering the club with two other men. Quick head shots of the deceased Binary Dogs are displayed, then the usual quick reactionary crowd shots of the average Vanders citizen at the scene complaining about police corruption, the drug-trade and the poor colonists stuck in the middle trying to earn a living.
“What
the frak?!” When Saar left Jones and Hernandez, they were heading to the Below
Zero to collect the cash Bargar Vas promised them for getting the water turned
back on out at Oh-Rif. What were they doing hours later at the Synapsis in a
gunfight? And where is Schmidt? Sergeant Schmidt ran the mission out at Oh-Rif.
Last he knew he had just got done debriefing the chief and collecting credits.
Well it sure as purple-acid-rain did not concern Saar at the time. “My fraking
fingers hurt.” He winced as he stabbed his deck for the readout.
Paulo Song,
Omni Sun, COO Omni Horron Research Facility, responsible for the
agra-augmentation program being conducted there.
“Hey
Saar”, this was Mr. Anderson punching his apartments com. “Someone is here to
see you.”
“Tell
him I'm not here.”
“Okay.”
Saar bends
back over his comp and begins and extraction program on the next most easily
hacked piece of data. Six hours. “Run it.”
“He says
he can't really leave until he sees you.” the apartment's com crackles
again. Aw hell, Saar punches the door access code. Anderson and Yang come
back in with a well-dressed man. Obviously Kazawan City, not a
colonist. Anderson introduces him as his boy Hugo Rossi. Both Rossi and
Saar look at each other trying to figure out why in the hell either one them
would be talking to each other. Rossi trimmed out, good job obviously, standing
in a pumped cube in the dome talking to cut up, electrocuted, dying computer
hack. Saar concluding once again he was shit at choosing friends.
“My
employer, Mr. Down, would like to talk to you if you wouldn't mind?”
“Can he
patch me up?”
“I hope
so, or I've taken a two-hour tube ride for nothing.”
“Who's
your boss?”
“Collace
Down. His son just returned from Xxcarvis. He is concerned about his son, the
condition of his return, and for some reason now he wants to talk to you. He
also advises that we try and leave the dome as soon as possible.”
“Down is
big in the professional circuit,” Anderson beams, “his son, Flare is probably
the top celebrity sports star on Skalvil. I've raced against him before, he's
totally cool.”
Saar
accepts he will not be having a quite night at home but says he cannot leave
until he makes a few files. He wants forty minutes. Rossi does not see any
problem with that and shortly thereafter the group hits the concourse and grab
a tube to Kazawan City. Down lives in a plush high-rise and they are escorted
into what can only be the suite's lounge. Rossi fixes everyone drinks while a
house attendant treats Saar with stimpacks and NueSkin patches.
Heavy
set with a face sandpaper-washed from time outside the domes of Skalvil. Sharp
dressed. Longtime local who made it good somehow?
“Thank
you for coming. I see you have met my mechanic Hugo Rossi. He has a lot to
do with keeping this family in the winner's circle and a truly capable hand. I
myself as you can see am quite capable, but I have some current issues I am
having some trouble wrapping my head around and I believe you may be
helpful. It is my understanding you were recently out at Oh-Rif. Specifically,
you were on the ground dealing with the seizure of the facility by terrorists.
Is that right?”
“Yes.
Sergeant Schmidt, Omni Security. He hired me along with some other of his
contract help to go out and see what the problem was.”
“What
did you find?”
“What
was reported. Some unknown armed group had taken over the facility, disrupted
the water flow. Don't know why. Attracted a whole bunch of attention. How could
it not. Angry colonists were outside ready to force their way in if the water
didn't get turned back on. My group secured the facility, engaged the
terrorists. We killed some. Some got away. Looks like they killed the whole
staff their too. Didn't make much sense. Still doesn't. But it paid. Once we
contacted Omni with a sit-rep the salaried boys rolled in and told us to go
home.”
Down
drains his glass and sits on the couch. Arms spread, his prodigious stomach
sticking out form his jacket. “My son got into trouble on an expedition on
Xxcarvis. Championship grav-skiing on those tremendous ice peaks. Film crew,
the whole works. Going to set a new frontier record no doubt. Now it is a four-week
journey one way, so I don't expect up to the minute briefings, but I was almost
able to keep up daily with the expedition group. They would tight-beam their
daily logs from the range to the Omni-Sun drilling facility. There they would
be loaded onto the next transport out. There is enough regular commercial
traffic out of Xxcarvis that every other day I had footage. He must have got
into some trouble out their because the daily tight-beam stopped. I paid the
Scouts to get out there and look for them. The Baudy Beth I think it was. 200T
free-trader, 2 jump capability. Four weeks out, four weeks back minimum. A
crew of four. They returned two weeks ahead of schedule with my son, the body
of one of the scouts and the sole survivor of the trek. I still have not got
any information on the whereabouts of the other two crew members.
“The
official report is they came across Flare in life-pod orbiting the gas giant at
0304. Still 2 parsecs out from Xxcarvis. Word is he was never on
Xxcarvis. No trace of his ship, his crew. He is not okay. Something
happened to him. The surviving scout from the mission I have been unable
to find out who or where he is. Probably under lock and key at their base here
in the city. I was able to find out the body of the dead scout had been
transferred to Oh-Rif. So, I want to ask you again: What did you find?”
Saar let
the stimpacks take him far away from his singed skin and lacerated torso. “They
had some EMP device. Detonated in the power room. Brought the whole facility
down. No power, no communication. They killed all the staff and took a body.
They fled on boat out into the Skalvil Sea. We found it beached on the
north shore. Original crew bound and executed. Most likely killed before the
terrorists used the boat to enter Oh-Rif. They fled into the wastes on a
four-wheeled ATV. The frequent acid-rain storms had quickly made their trail
impossible to follow. Schmidt returned to the Omni tower to debrief and collect
pay. I came home to find, well, all of you.”
Saar
looked at the rest of the PC's. They all seemed happy with their drinks. “All I
can say, it didn't make any sense.”
“I want
to take a look at that body. Do you think you can find it for me?”
“Sure,
were do you think we should look?”
“There
isn't much north of the Skalvil.” Downs picks up a remote from the table and
turns on the holo-vid. A three-dimensional image of the rain scarred wastes of
Skalvil in brilliant display. The Skalvil Sea was prominent then the display
zoomed into the terrain north. Three colonies were identified: Krunner
Farm, Harean Station and Horsail.
“Harean
Station is a slug farm, protein bases for colonist food supplies out there on
the plains, and the poor dome'ers living on subsidy. Krunner Farm harvests Hellboria
Wood. Extremely hard, very colorful when back lit and very expensive. My
bar top here is a nice specimen.
“Horsail
is a fracking operation. Anyone heading north via ATV's cannot get far without
living, knowing, or being supplied by one of these colonies. Someone is
going to know who they are and where they are. I suggest you start out
immediately. Omni knows as much as this too. If they are hot to track down the terrorists,
they will be heading there soon. But then again, now the facility is back up
maybe not so soon. Hugo here has tuned up the Trell III, a
capable back country air raft. Enclosed of course. He has agreed to
accompany you all. As a top mechanic you shouldn't have to worry about
breakdown.”
|
N |
avigating
the Skalvil wastes it was apparent to all but Anderson that he drives way too
fast. He calmly whistled some inane tune as he carved the grav-powered hover
jeep through the tortuous terrain racked by sudden purple sheets of rain and
deep defiles. They were heading to Krunner. The closest colony to the sea and
the hardest to reach. The PC's expected signal contact soon.
“Uh oh.” Anderson stopped whistling.
“What?”
asked Yang. He was white-knuckling it shotgun.
“I think
we're going to hit a Wempir swarm.” Everyone starts yelling for him to turn
around it.
“I'm
going too fast. You better break out the guns.” Aggressive little five-kilogram grey-mottled
blimps, Flying Wempirs attack anything flying along close to the ground. Their
massive swarms will envelope suspected prey with viscous barbed mouths. For the
Trell III it would be like hitting a brick wall at this speed. “Start blasting
and I'll try and spin us out!” Anderson was yelling now.
The crew
lowered their wind screens and squirted their rifles and sub machine guns on
full auto. The wind and the rain screamed along with the furious shriek of the
swarm, black against the now obliterated purple sky. The jeep was buffeted by
hundreds of splatting flyers, made a sickening barrel roll, and slid out of the
swarm down a slot canyon.
“Whooee!”
Anderson and Yang were pounding the dashboard delighted to not be dead. It was
hard to tell what the rest of the crew was thinking all rain and Wempir gore
sprayed.
“Bogey
One this Krunner Farm please identify.” crackled the dash-com. (to be
continued)
Chapter
II
|
B |
ogey One
this Krunner Farm please identify.” crackled the dash-com.
“This is
air-raft Trell 3 out of Kazawan. We are scouring the wastes for criminals which
recently attacked Oh-Rif. Permission to land. We’re like to ask you a few
questions.”
“Sure
thing Trell 3, ain’t seen nows none terrorists running loose around here by
jingo. Dinner’s hot though. Just getting served in the mess tent. Come on in.”
Anderson
brings the air raft down on the lighted pad in front of several above ground
“tents”, rugged polymer wrapped metal buildings to withstand the tainted rain.
By the time Saar stepped out of the air raft and smelt the burnt cashew of
Skalvil the filters never caught someone was coming out of the tent in the
middle wearing a worn and patched work suit.
“You
don’t look so good”, Yang looks Saar up and down in the rain. “You sure you
want to bring that?” He was looking at Saar’s SMG gripped in his bandaged
hands.
“Do I
look like I’m someone looking for criminals?”
“You
look like someone who should be laying down.” Yang rolls up his window.
“Welcome
to Kunner Farm, home of the finest Hellboria wood slabs. I’m Ciscero.”
Saar
limps up to the farmer holding his gun-free hand up, Anderson dims the air
raft’s lights.
“You see
anyone coming out of the hard scrap recently, without vehicles?”
“No, we
haven’t anyone passing through.”
“How
long someone stay out here without a vehicle, on foot.
“Aah I
say not very long. Depends how much clean water you have I suppose. You want to
sit down? Get a cup of cava or something?”
“Anywhere
to reach you from the lake from Omni-Sun?”
“Without
vehicles, no, no. Not easy. Long way around, rough ground between here and
there.
“Weren’t
you all bothered by the trouble at Oh-Rif? Water got shut off.”
“No,
we’ve been off Omni’s flow for a while. We got filters. They are not great, but
they do the job.”
“That is
good for you. Somehow Oh-Rif got shut down. Brought down a lot of your friends
out to the plant. That cava sounds good, can the rest of my crew come in?”
The
promise of pay for any information after breaking bread and conversation with
Ciscero convinced Saar there was nothing more to be gained at Kunner. The saws
which cut the rock hard “trees” into brilliant slices could be heard grinding
away in the underground shops. Hugo gave Ciscero the radio ID number to contact
if the colonists see any strangers.
“Slug
farm is before Horsail.” Anderson starts the air-raft and gains altitude
leaving the farm. The rain had let off and the night was black.
“Sounds
good.” says Rossi.
Within
hailing distance to the grotto which housed the topside buildings Anderson
contacted Harean Station.
“Trell
III we have been appraised of Oh-Rif. We are back up with full power. Haven’t
had any problems here except the lights dimming there for a few hours.”
“Understood
Harean Station. We are Omni Security contractors, we just need to look around.
Some of the Oh-Rif saboteurs were believed to have fled the scene and remain at
large.
“Copy
Trell 3, landing request denied.”
“Dam
that was cold. What is got these guys all uptight? Says Yang.
“Maybe
they just don’t like Omni-Sun?” Saar says.
“Hey, I
know Omni may not be everyone’s favorite out here.” Anderson gets back on the
com. “Were not Omni. We are out looking for a missing person, Kazawan City.
Private contract. Can you give me a break? We got credits for fuel. We can even
give you a local scan, make sure the sector’s clean.”
“We
don’t have time for this kind of nonsense. Request denied.”
“Set down the raft out of sight, I want to
check this out.”
Saars and
Yang hugged the wet dirt of a small rise. It gave an unobstructed view of the
front of the farm.
“There
we go,” Saar growled under his breath. He handed the bi-noks to Yang. “See
that. Two of them are leaving. Where could they be going in such a hurry just
as we buzz them for a stop?”
“Tell
someone we were here?” Yang raised an eyebrow questioningly.
“Damn
right. And they didn’t want to broadcast it in case anyone in the area could
pick up the transmission. Allow anyone to get a fix on who they were talking
to. Kind of suspicious behavior for a slug farmer, no?”
Yang got
on his com, “Anderson, get the Trell up. Come and grab us. And get a fix on two
ATV’s heading… five nine nine three.” Yang and Saar both backed away from the
muddy ridge and were quickly picked up by Anderson and the Trell.
“Want me
to drop on ‘em?” Anderson asked as they quickly caught up to the four-wheel
machines speeding over the dark, wet purple plain.
“No,
just close enough they can’t ignore me.” Saar powered on the exterior sounder. “Harean
Station, pull over. You only get one chance. Otherwise you are looking at an
iso-cube back in Kazawan!”
No one
in the Trell expected the drivers on the ground to comply, and none were
surprised when the two vehicles split up, began heading in opposite directions
from another.
“Which
one boss?” Anderson called out.
“Hmmm,
take the one on the right.” Saar says.
The
Trell closed ground quickly and they could now see the ATV contained two
riders. One of the two twisted around and leveled what must have been long
range slug thrower at the Trell and started shooting.
“They
started shooting!” Yells Anderson.
“Just hold
it steady.” Yang says. He is powering down his side window and leans out with
his light carbine.
It was
either the second or third shot which struck the ATV. Blew out a tire. The ATV
did a gut-wrenching lurch then rolled. The rider and passenger were both thrown
from the wreck. With the Trell on the ground everyone but Anderson unloaded and
approached the roll-over with guns drawn. One of the enviro-suited colonists
was obviously dead. Crumpled against a pile of rocks. The other, the shooter,
was unmoving but audibly groaning. The ATV was clearly undrivable. Rossi checked
out the back of the dead one’s neck. “You’re right Saar. Strange tattoo on her
neck.” This close it was easy to see the driver’s gender.
“Stop
squirming slug-farmer!” This was Yang. He had his foot on the groaning colonist.
Saar bent down and peeled back the suit to see the expected same tattoo.
“So what
is going on? Bunch of wacked out religious nuts getting off on dead scouts is
what I see.” Saar had pulled the colonist’s mask off, leaving the wild-eyed
farmer to suck in the tainted air.
“You are
so fucked. You all are so fucked!” He screams at them all. “You have no idea
what is coming you smug capitalistic bastards!” Yang raised his fist preparing
to slam the colonist’s head off the dirt but stopped short as the colonist’s
insane babbling changed into a soggy, choking sob. His skin starts to ripple,
become watery. Pinkish foaming regurgitation spews out of his mouth. His eyes pop
with a watery sploosh, disappearing in rivulets down his yellow environmental
suit, and then collapses into soft, lifeless corpse. A clear liquid continues to
seep out from him into the purple dirt.
Saar looks down at the mess, puzzled. “Throw him in the trunk. The other one to. Then get the hell out here. We should get back to Kazawan.”
(to be continued)
