Jump to content
Dante Unbound: Share Bug Reports and Feedback Here! ×

Scavengers - A Warframe Story [Second Dream Spoilers]

(XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139

By (XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139,
in Fan Zone

 Share

Recommended Posts

(XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139

(XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139

Posted
Posted (edited)

Breath hot against the inside of his facemask, Telin tested the give on the static line; grunting in satisfaction.

“I still say we should have sent a drone.” Kelpo’s voice growled up from the darkness further below.

The ice shaft was strewn with the remains of an old Corpus freighter, which had ploughed a tunnel deep into the planet’s surface a century before. Girders and twisted gantries jutted out of the smooth ice like scary fingers, offering a precarious handhold here, a momentary respite there. Not that one could afford to be complacent: one careless misstep meant certain death.  

The only light was from the rigs affixed to their environment suits.

Chest heaving, Telin caught his breath. A momentary lapse in judgement made him look down. A mistake. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting a lurching feeling in his stomach.

“Exercise, Kelp.” Telin managed, as he steadied himself “It breeds character.”

“I’ve plenty of character.” Kelpo panted between strikes of his ice pick. “It’s the falling that concerns me. Salvage contracts don’t mend broken spines.”

“But they do pay creds.” Telin slammed an ice pick into the sheer surface. “Creds we badly need.”

It was true. They were subcontractors; an independent salvage team on the lowest rung of Anyo Corp’s payroll. The megacorps controlled most of the big surface digs on Venus. Out here was the Badlands of the frozen rock; at the very fringes of Corpus territory. There was no law here, and any expeditions brave or foolish enough to operate this deep were often machine led, driven by automated proxies.

Or madmen, Telin grinned.

Budget dictated their approach. They had a two person skimmer some three klicks south of their current position, and had hauled their scaling gear here by hand: crude projectile grapples and climbing webbing. His shoulders ached from the ascent.

The risk of exhaustion, hypothermia and falling down bottomless pits aside, Telin was thoroughly enjoying himself. Old enough to know better, young enough not to care; this was exactly the type of adventure he had signed up for. Frontier salvage work, far removed from the shipping lanes and polite conversation of the Market Cities. Not for him, no Sir.

His tastes were a little more… visceral. Hurricane winds and stomach lurching pitfalls. Honest work, tactile; raw and untamed. Fortunes and opportunity awaited those adventurous enough to brave Venus' surface. All you had to do was get your hands dirty. Or frozen.

Such was Telin’s view of the world. This was unfortunate, as fate - it transpired - had an entirely different plan in mind.

It was then that Kelpo’s scanner emitted a strange pinging sound. Telin twisted about in his harness.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Kelpo huffed, hauling his bulk onto the same outcrop, feet dangling precariously. The two men sat panting on a sturdy section of metal plating that might have once been a deck plating, or a ceiling. It didn’t matter. It just meant they could have a badly needed rest.

His oldest friend, Kelpo was a stocky fellow; all arms and no neck. Familia glyphs of home and corpus stencilled his skin, underlit by the lighting rig around his environment suit.

Like Telin’s, it was a ramshackle job; the most reliable he could afford to build, and heavily customised. Their mouths were obscured by breathing masks; their faces ghostly pale in the transparent visors that cast them in an eerie greenish glow.

Telin pointed at Kelpo, breathlessly.

“Your scanner just pinged.”

“It did?” Kelpo frowned, rummaging in his pack. He produced a battered sensor wand, and gave it a perfunctory slap. For a moment nothing happened. He cursed, and slapped it again.

The sensor wand lit up at the same moment Kelpo’s eyes did. The scavenger grinned toothily, scrambling to his feet. The signal was unsual; an echoing return, indicating heavy interference.

“What’s the read, Kelp?” Telin asked, his visor almost touching Kelp’s.

“Secondary tunnel, due north. We’re right on top of it.” Kelp pointed at an impassive wall of ice. “There.”

Telin shrugged his own pack to the floor, unfurling a long object triple wrapped in thick cloth.

The cutting beam was a boxy wedge of metal. Like all of their gear, it was all but bashed together with spare parts and a can-do attitude. It felt heavy and clumsy in his gloved hands.

Telin settled into a crouch, the plasma cutter braced.

The beam kicked once as it lanced into burning life a licking purring sound emanating from the ice as it hissed venting steam. The power pack bleated in alarm, over-heating. Telin depressed the trigger.

A smooth crawl space had been speared through the icy rock. Telin slung his pack back over his shoulder and scrambled through the still-bubbling ice water. Kelpo followed behind, splashing noisily.

Telin clambered to his feet and almost fell over in shock. Kelpo clamped a hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Kelpo breathed.

Kelpo’s initial read had been wrong. It was not a tunnel at all.

The chamber was a natural formation; a vast vaulted ceiling of icicles and frozen rock.

Less natural was the crashed ship at its center; a twisted ruin of curling metal and burst organic matter. Frozen coolant had warped the ice around it an oily black. The rock itself had been scorched and frozen over. Whatever impact trajectory the ship had taken, it could not be described as a gentle landing.

There was no impact hole from the surface. This had sat here for hundreds, if not thousands of years.

Kelpo’s scanner wand cheeped manically. He twisted it off, leaving the two men alone in stunned silence.

After a moment, Kelpo was the first to speak.

“So… what do you think it is?” he asked.

Telin’s eyes never left the shattered ship.

“Opportunity.”

 

 

 

Edited by (XB1)Katsuhiro 1139
https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12929404/1/Scavengers-A-Warframe-Story - Full story here (I will continue to post it both here on the forums and on FF.Net)
Link to comment
Share on other sites
(XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139

(XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139

Posted
  • Author
Posted (edited)

“In the event of a Tier 0 Site Discovery, all personnel are required to document their findings and log appropriate fee claims immediately in advance of site processing. Failure to do so on time and within stated parameters will result in immediate censure, with the offending parties potentially risking indefinite termination, personal liquidation or, more seriously, denial of their introductory finders fee.”

-          Corpus Salvage Edict 47-19

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“We should call it in.” Kelpo said, after a moment.

The two men had not moved from their spot at the entrance to the vast chamber.

“In a bit.” Telin shook his head, “I want to know what we’re looking at first.”

“A big fat payday, that’s what.” Kelpo chuckled. He was already unpacking his com unit. “I’ll get the transmitter juiced.”

 “Wait.” Telin held a hand up.

“Wait? You serious? You know how seriously Anyo reps treat protocol. ”

“I mean wait. This is good salv, Kelp. Life changingly good salv. Let’s get a proper sense of what we’re dealing with before we call it in.”

 “This is a bad idea, Tel. And changingly isn’t a word.”

“It will be when we get paid, Kelp. You wanna get short changed?”

Kelpo hesitated, then wrapped the transmitter back up. Like any good freelancer, a healthy focus on margins was the quickest way to the man’s heart.

“Good.” Telin snapped on a hand held torch and started forward. “C’mon.”

The two scavengers circling the downed ship with some trepidation; Kelpo with his scanning wand, Telin playing his light over the crumpled hull. The ship was big; far bigger than the small skimmer that had brought them here.

As battered as it was, the original design of the ship was much too streamlined to be of Corpus design.

“You think it’s Orokin?” Kelpo asked.

“Gotta be. No Grineer ship matches this description.”

“Survivors?”

Telin crouched down and scooped up a frozen chunk of organic matter. The ship’s very innards had burst. He scraped it into a sample jar affixed to his belt. It was all but frozen solid

“Doubtful.” Telin grunted, slapping his hands clean.

Telin swiped snow from the display gauge mounted on the wrist of his environment suit. He keyed a series of commands into it.

The boxy shoulder pad of his suit snapped free and rose into the air of its own volition, repulsors humming. With a metallic clack it unfurled into a drone. It was an avian thing. Unlike the more salubrious models adopted by those higher in Corpus society, HWK-44 was custom made; smaller – a patchwork to be sure - but not lacking in craft. Its hull was stencilled in all matter of logos, memes and serial numbers; a testament to its mongrel heritage.

It chirped an enthusiastic greeting. Telin gestured to the wreckage; all business.

“Audio and visual feed up to five hundred meters; full site documentation; repeating. Prepare for tight beam broadcast on my signal. No stream, we don’t know who’s out there.”

HWK emitted an affirmative cheap and swept into the air, panning sensor beams all over the site. The drone was part aide, field assistant and occasional pet. Under normal circumstances, Telin would have mapped the site himself, rather than risking HWK in such an extreme environment.

These were not ordinary circumstances.

The scavengers stepped onto the hull. It sounded metallic, felt as much to the touch. There were no discernible access hatches that Telin could see.

A deep scar had riven its way through the front of the hull; some kind of beam weapon based on the impact profile. Whatever semi-organic material the ship was composed of had failed to heal the damage fully. Telin was from a mining family; the fused tissue looked like any number of industrial accidents he had seen as a boy.

The gap was just barely wide enough to accommodate the bulk of a single man. The scavengers hunkered down over the wound, peering down into the dark recess.

Darkness stared back at them.

“You seeing this?” Telin asked, incredulous. “This ship wasn’t built. It was grown.”

Kelpo shook his head, dumbfounded. Without a moment’s hesitation, Telin started lowering himself into the gap. Kelpo met his eye as he hovered halfway through the hole.

“You’re not actually going in there, are you?”

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained!” Telin grinned. Then he vanished.

Kelpo swore vehemently.

“Tel!” Kelpo yelled. “Tel you bastard; you okay?!”

No response came. Cursing, Kelpo squeezed through and followed.

He yelped as he clattered to a metallic deck. Telin hauled him upright.

“That’s gonna bruise.” Kelpo muttered.

In response to the sudden commotion, the ship’s internal lights began glowing to life. They pulsed sickly; lighting in fits and starts. It was a testament to the ship’s design that it still managed to function after so much trauma.

Instinctively Kelpo produced his scanning wand, wielding it like a particularly ineffectual sword.  Telin for his part took point, his suit’s lighting rig automatically dimming in response to the increasing visibility.

The inside of the ship had fared just as poorly. Nearly every console was fried, and scorch marks blanketed the floor and walls. Even in the ship’s bizarre internal microclimate, the invading ice chased every surface. Curiously, it still seemed warmed inside the ship than without.

They were stood in what appeared to be the central corridor of the ship. A descending ramp fed deeper into the ship. It too had been fused open; its surface warped and buckled by extreme heat.

“No flight seats, no crew restraints. No damn cockpit.” Kelpo shook his head, “Just what the hell is this thing?”

Telin reached up and keyed the record button linked to the side of his visor. He panned from left to right, documenting the devastation.

“Advanced tech, that’s for sure. Way above our pay-grade. Wonder what could have done this much damage.”

Wand scanning, the two men crept deeper into the ship.

Telin stopped in his tracks so suddenly Kelpo walked smack into him.

Any protestations were cut short by the sight before them.

Slumped in the centre of the ship was an immense figure; of a scale far larger than any human; gene enhanced or not. It was tethered to a central station that had all but collapsed in on itself; the heaped flesh of the ship having pooled around it like melted wax. Entombed, its angular lines were blurred by a coating of ice; its silhouette all but indistinguishable.

“Hell is that thing?!” Kelpo hissed.

“How should I know?!” Telin shot back. “And why are we whispering?! It’s clearly dead!”

“I sure hope so!”

They kept a cautious distance from it as they crept forward. Telin looked down and realised he was toting the plasma cutter like a rifle. He shook himself and lowered it. No sense risking the salvage.

Kelpo’s scanning wand piped up.

“Readings ahead.”

The plasma cutter was half raised again.

“That thing alive?” Telin asked, eyes narrowed.

“Yes and no. Trace biological activity; all but dormant.”

“Good.” Telin glanced over his shoulder, “I’m sensing a ‘but’ here.”

“But that’s not the only signature I’m reading. This next one’s all over the damn scale, but localised. It’s coming from deeper inside the ship.”

They stepped gingerly past the frozen giant. The corridor wove around, feeding into two separate ramps. To either side were two rooms too badly damaged to enter.

At the very rear of the ship lay one final door. The door itself lay broken on the deck, scorched and blackened beyond recognition. Beyond it lay the single largest chamber, some kind of throne room.

It was here where the flesh of the ship’s organic material had pooled thickest. encasing a large throne at the back of a vaulted chamber. The throne itself had buckled under the force of impact; all but webbed beneath the fossilized flesh. Kelpo’s wand lit up as they played it over the wreckage.

Telin studied the throne carefully. He spoke aloud, for the benefit of the recording.

“Some kind of emergency response. The ship dumped its biological material around critical components. Whatever was in that chair, the ship died saving it.”

“You talk like it was alive.” Kelpo shook his head.

Telin shot him a look.

“Take one look and tell me it wasn’t.”

Kelpo shrugged, stepping forward and kneeling over the broken throne.

“Signal’s erratic but it’s here. Definitely getting some weird readings.” He produced a small handheld cutter and began surgically stripping at the wall of flesh. “Give me a hand here Tel.”

They got to work, working with the practised methology of seasoned scrappers. Entire rolls of fat were spliced from the throne, where they were cast aside steaming to the deck.

The throne itself took a lot more practised cutting. When they finally prised it away, it revealed the golden casket beneath.

“Statis pod.” Kelpo grunted.

And inside, its occupant; perfectly preserved. A young teenager, scarcely older than a boy. His face was hidden by an ebony respirator, chased with silver. His hair was a dark black, shaved on one side. Small implants dotted either side of his brow. He slept peacefully, oblivious to the grim reality of his surroundings.

Kelpo leaned down and checked the readings on the side of the casket.

“Well, there you have it.” A pause. “He’s alive.”

This time it was Telin’s turn to swear. This complicated matters greatly.

A survivor meant an entirely different fee structure. Potentially a forfeit on full salvage rights.

“Call it in.” Telin glowered. “Advanced ship; possibly Orokin origin.”

His voice floating over his shoulder as he stalked out of the chamber.

“Ask ‘em if there’s a discretionary bonus for a rescue.”

 

 

Edited by (XB1)Katsuhiro 1139
Typos and minor corrections.
Link to comment
Share on other sites
(XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139

(XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139

Posted
  • Author
Posted

 

[][]//Broker Ident 7242 [Full Serial No. Redacted], reporting salvage find. Deep dig, lift gear and boring team required. Filing fee claim and requesting site rights be recognised.”

>>//"Transmission acknowledged and order recognised, Broker 7242. Stand by for processing."

 [Considerable time lapse detected in response rate. Penalty auto-docked from tardy response time. Increased penalty rates applied for remaining trade cycle.]

 [][]// "Transmission repeat: requesting fee and site rights be recognised. Possible Tier 0 find.  Repeat; Tier Zero. Importance: Maximum. Do you want this damn thing or not?"

>>// "Site recognised. Confirm coordinates for extraction team.”

[][]//"Coordinates sent. Additional: survivor presence detected. Query: If Orokin; additional Fee Scale apply??"

-          Excerpt from Tenno intercepted transmission, Prospect 141, Venus Surface Station

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Assistant Controller Kef Mehrino was not a senior member of  Anyo Corp.

Any number of fundamentally depressing observations reminded him of this. That he was sat in the Data Traffic control tower of an all but forgotten surface way station was one. Another was his team, or lack of one. They were freelancers for the most part, low paid serfs and directionless clerks; scarcely more intelligent than an indentured crewman. Strictly entry level. Hired help, he thought; lip curling unconsciously. They have no appreciation of the greater pursuit of Profit.

Most damning of all was the view. There was none. Just the endless howling blizzard of the most recent storm, occasionally broken up by the flitting lights of a passing star freighter. Kef often wondered why they Corp had installed a window in the first place. He was sat behind a large desk overlooking the open plan trading floor. A vista of desk and swirling data bathed the trading floor below. To the layman, it might be impressive. To him, it was a damning reminder of his own insignificance.

The station, locally identified as Prospect 141, was one of several across the surface city of the planet. Most of the cities were underground, set deep within the ice. While the orbital stations formed the bulk of civilised society on Venus, that did not mean a presence was not required in the more… untamed parts of the Corpus Empire. Beneath his tower were the habitation stacks; which became steadily more lawless the deeper you went. Right down to the coolant pits at the very foundation of the city itself.

Still, Kef was proud of his meagre station. He was part air traffic controller, part data handler and broker; with a measure of autonomy that was the very envy of the junior staff. He was even allowed to handle a limited portfolio, provided of course that the traditional Anyo tithes were observed; promptly and without complaint. The interest penalties were extortionate, and if one could not pay with credits then one often paid with one’s life.

That is not to say that Kef Mehrino was satisfied with his station in life. He was a talented and capable broker, he knew it in his bones. His ambition far outstripped the limited confines of his role, and with that ambition came an appetite for …certain risks. It was this very ambition that required him to consider the few advantages of being placed in a command position with so many hired hands on the lawless frontier. Nothing blasphemous, no. But a certain eye for a quiet deal here, a neat transaction there. It had gotten him this far, and would only get him further. The key was to recognise the opportunities, and – when presented – seize them.

One such opportunity presented itself that very morning, early in the mid-cycle shift.

One of his techs stabbed at his keyboard with unusual ferocity. One of the newer crew members. Kef spared a glance at the biometrics display. It depicted the entire status of his trading floor.

Elevated pulse detected. Excitement? Stress?

Potential impact on efficiency. Lack of focus. Unacceptable. He had best get to the bottom of it.

Junior Clerk A-42. What was the man’s actual name? Tohrin, Baldo?

 “Torbo.” He smiled broadly, pleased to have finally remembered.

“Actually it’s… Jef, Sir.”  The clerk mumbled, turning pale. “Torbo rotated off-world two cycles ago.”

Kef scolded himself for the momentary lapse in memory. That only rendered Jef paler. Though the Assistant Controller was but a larger cog in the Anyo Corp’s machine, hierarchy mattered here. Kef’s team knew all too well how truly ruthless he could be in maximising Prospect 141’s efficiency. A number of empty chairs on the floor stood testament to that.

 “Well then… Jef. Approach. What do you have for me?”

Jef rose to his feet and wound his way between work stations, visibly trembling as he approached Kef’s dais. Hands knitted, the man’s bow seemed almost too deferential for Kef’s exacting taste. Kef did his best to hide his disdain as he received the report.

“Salvage report from the South-East Sector.” Jef began, “Two man scouting team claiming site rights.”

“Noted. I also note your bpm is higher than your tracked average. Is something the matter?”

Jef lowered his voice, and then added: “They… they’re reporting a Tier 0 find, Sir.”

“Are you certain?” Kef was surprised at the sharpness in his own voice.

“Yes Sir. The data pipe checks out.”

“Beam it to my desk. Maximum encryption levels.”

“Already on its way, Sir. What… what should we do?”

Kef ignored him. His eyes absorbed the information greedily. Image feeds, telemetry data.

His own heartrate spiked. He silenced the warning sigils on his display with a petulant stab of his finger.

“Have you shown this to anyone else, Jef?”

“No, Sir. You’re the first to know.”

“Good. Keep it that way. There’s a bonus coming to you in your next pay packet. Further disclosure of any information recently discussed will result in said bonus being revoked, together with indefinite contract cancellation. Do I make myself clear?”

Jef swallowed audibly, but nodded.

“Yes, Sir. Thank you Sir.” Jef paused, hesitating. “Sir… but what should we do?”

“Protocol is clear. Don’t stress yourself any further with it. Leave this entirely with me. Erase your cache, and put it from your mind. I’ll make sure this goes to the right people.”

Junior Cleric Jef saluted, his dismissal clear.

“And one last thing, Jef.”

“Sir?”

Kef Mehrino sat back in his high-backed chair, fingers steepled. His eyes remained fixed on the data feed, which rotated over and over again. The downed ship, the underground chamber. Two scavengers, climbing inside and disappearing from view.

“These men, they are one of our sub-contractors?”

“Yes Sir. Entry level, but reliable. One of the smaller freelance teams we run in the fringe sectors.” Jef smiled, flushed with excitement. “I expect this is their big break.”

“Yes, yes I imagine it is.” Kef mused, uninterested. “Do me one last favour.”

Kef Mehrino looked young Jef squarely in the eye.

“Get me Kahrl Bravic on the line.”

Link to comment
Share on other sites
(XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139

(XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139

Posted
  • Author
Posted (edited)

"Ah, Venus: illustrious jewel in the Corpus Empire. Endless days, limitless opportunity. A planet of contrasts; extreme heat, matched by boundless tracks of shimmering ice. Our predecessors the Orokin seeded the skies with blocks of ice; smashing them down and rendering the planet fit for surface occupation. Their vision is continued today by the tireless work of Anyo Corp, who are proud to announce yet another lucrative third quarter."

- extract from Profiting from Profiteering - A Corpus Trader's Guide to the Origin System

"Stay away from the Frozen Sectors. Original Orokin tech; don't ask me how it works. High yield salvage, if you don't freeze, but the crews it attracts are… unsavoury. Stick to the hot zones. You'll live longer.

- Unknown Solaris United worker

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

A war barge rumbled over the Frozen Sectors. Unlike the clean, square lines of a traditional Corpus trading vessel, this was lumped with additional armour plating, bulging anti-air turrets; even a cruel looking grappling hook design for spearing other barges. Chains trailed low beneath its hull, securing a small collection of smaller strike skiffs and landing skimmers. A passing trader had once remarked that it was the most Grineer-looking Corpus vessel to ever behold.

The trader's comments were quietly noted, and then his skull mounted on the prow. The crew of the Severance Package were not known for their subtlety.

Appearances were deceiving, however. The crew of the Severance had not acquired such a vast array of hardware by being simple marauders. They were the best at what they did, and were amply rewarded for it. Internally the ship was festooned with drone manufactories, scanning equipment, redundant shield systems; every modern convenience a Corpus sub-contractor could hope for. The ship had been built under the merciless drive and singular drive of its captain, Kahrl Bravic.

If Bravic belonged to one of the trading families it was impossible to tell. He cut an immense, savage figure, corded in lean muscle. His head was shorn; his face a bristling beard of silver grey. The man's left arm was a Grineer augment, a battle trophy from some ancient skirmish he never spoke of, and none were stupid enough to ask. Similar trophies adorned either hips; twinned Grakata sub-machine guns; retro-fitted with all manner of optical attachments of dubious utility. The only visual sign of his allegiance to Anyo Corp was a single armoured shoulder pad, stencilled with their logo.

Bravic lounged in the throne seat, one armoured boot resting on a console before him. He idly toyed with small Moa articula as he watched the trade displays. He had taken a position on a number of weapon shipments entering the Jupiter markets. Just as well. Grineer galleons had blockaded the shipping lanes, spiking the value. Bravic was pleased. The port side rail guns could use an upgrade.

Kahrl Bravic was no mere scavenger; indeed, the Severance was but one of a fleet of scavenging barges he operated in this sector. His portfolio work was simple, but calculated on ruthless principle: predict the next war, take the necessary long positions. If necessary, start the fight yourself, loot the dead; repeat.

"Transmission coming through from Prospect 141." Teico, his coms officer announced.

Teico was the only person on board who bore the closest resemblance to a traditional Anyo crewman. This served Bravic's purposes: he looked more official when they absolutely had to deal with the powers that be.

"Put it through."

The message was encrypted, Kef Mehrino was the sort of paranoid, low level idiot that believed such measures were necessary out here on the frontier. Bravic quickly ran their agreed upon cypher, and digested the information carefully. He very suddenly sat up in his throne.

Kef Mehrino may be a fool, but he had his moments. Bravic snapped his fingers at a passing officer.

"Speyer, prep a collection crew." Bravic ordered, "You'll need dig gear, boring drills. Probably a grav lift."

Built like an Eidolon and twice as mean; Speyer had done a significant amount of field work on Europa, the icy moon of Jupiter. Ice work in particular was his specialty. There were few more dependable.

"What are we looking at, Boss?"

Bravic gestured magnanimously, the servos in his arm whirring.

"Take a look."

Speyer had an aquiline face; his skin daubed in the ritualistic blue tattoos so many of the Anyo Corp favoured. His brow knitted as he took in the site telemetry.

"This what I think it is?"

"I believe so. Tier 0."

Speyer let out a low whistle. After a pause, he concluded:

"I'll need six men. Armed. One of the larger skiffs too."

"Done." Bravic nodded.

"Anything else I need to know?"

Bravic set the articula aside, folding his arms.

"A two man crew called it in. Site rights are theirs."

"They licensed?" Speyer asked.

"Unfortunately."

Speyer scratched at his jowls; mulling it over. Bravic studied his lieutenant carefully, not saying another word.

"Your thoughts, Boss?"

"It's your call. Dangerous work out in the ice."

"A lot can happen." Speyer agreed sagely.

A ghost of a smile tugged at Kahrl Bravic's lips.

"… and I'm not inclined to share fees."

Edited by (XB1)Katsuhiro 1139
Link to comment
Share on other sites
(XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139

(XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139

Posted
  • Author
Posted

“It’s a question of margins. You can make all the turnover in the galaxy, but if your operating costs are too high, one will never attain a state of True Profit. Beware the Referral Fee. If you find yourself in this position, the Path is clear.

Eliminate the Overhead.”

- Nef Anyo 3:15, Meditations on Maximising Profit

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The two men sat outside on the nose of the ruined ship, warming their gloved hands on the small heat source HWK 44 had deposited in the air before them. A spinning orb rotated in the drone’s gravity fields; a tiny iridescent ball of plasma that wobbled and fizzled in the gloom. The drone for its part did not seem to mind the wait; it was simply happy to be unpacked and of service.

The drone’s owner was quite another matter.

“You called it in, right?” Telin asked for the third time in as many minutes.

“I did.” Kelpo nodded patiently.

“And they recognised our claim?”

“They did. Proper authorisation codes and all.”

“Right, right. Just checking.”

“You seem worried.”

“You’re not?” Telin asked. “This is big, Kelp. Bigger than anything we’ve ever landed. How long have we worked the ice?”

“Three years, two months and four work cycles; adjusting for time dilation.”

“That’s alarmingly specific.”

“I can be an alarmingly specific person, Tel. We climb coolant glaciers for a living. You think I got this far by being sloppy?”

They had left the casket where it was, safe in the belly of the ruined freighter. Without advanced lifting equipment there was no moving it. Their claim had been processed, the wheels were in motion. Now all they had to do was wait.

The wait ended when the transmitter strapped to Kelpo’s belt crackled.

“Eyes up, Broker 7242. Extractor arriving in 5, 4 –”

The remaining countdown was drowned out by a bellicose deluge of steam and fire.

Both men leapt to their feet. With a wave of his hand, HWK snapped back into position on Telin’s shoulder. The cacophony was brief; the roar of the plasma drill bursting into a the chamber in a final spray of smoking debris. Ashen flakes of melted rock drifted through the chamber like settling fallout.

The extractor unit was chain fixed; a deep level boring drill that combined plasma torches with a wickedly sharp set of drill-teeth. Clinging to the chain were two armoured figures; clad in heavy-plated environment suits. Industrial grade respirators granted them an almost insectile appearance; all coolant pipes and moulded goggles.

The drill whirred to a halt as it winched down to the base of the vaulted chamber; its teeth still steaming liquidated coolant as it settled.  The drill operators spared a glance around the chamber. One of them murmured into a wrist-com, and they began clambering down to the floor.

As Telin and Kelpo approached, two more men slid down the chain, clambering down from the rig with an ease borne from experience. Both were dressed in hard-suits not entirely dissimilar to Telin’s own, though a slightly newer model. Their face masks were a mirrored silver. Telin saw the sigil on their hard-suits, and frowned.

It seemed familiar.

The largest of the newcomers stepped forward, hand raised in greeting. Telin was not a small man by any stretch, but even so this brute dwarfed him.

“Broker 7242?” the man asked, his voice heavily filtered through the filtration mask. He touched the side of his visor and it smartly depolarised, revealing a weathered face, heavily tattooed. His suit left his face entirely exposed behind the visor; hinting at an altogether more advanced filtration system.

Kelpo stepped forward, holding up his Salvage Licence. Corpus runes played across the surface of the tablet. The larger man took it in with the briefest glance, nodding once. He produced the corresponding Requisition Slate, flashing it briefly.

Kelpo proffered a hand.

“7242 at your service. Name’s Kelpo Marr. This is my business partner, Telin Voss.”

“Speyer.” There was no surname forthcoming as he shook their hands, brusquely. “This here’s Wen. Quite a find you have here.”

“I’ll say. You’re going to need heavy lift gear to shift it.”

“We’ve it covered. Let’s take a look.”

Speyer turned to his men.

“Loading Team!” he bellowed, “Let’s make some credits!”

Automatically the rest of the men began unpacking further chains from the boring drill; fanning out either side of the ruined ship. The bulk of the chains were propped up by grav fields, which bobbed and thrummed under the strain.

“You reported a survivor?” Speyer asked publicly.

“Yeah, still inside.” Kelpo grinned, beckoning. “This way.”

Telin had yet to say a word. He studied the sigil on the back of Speyer’s environment suit. It showed a Raptor drone, clutching a hammer. A Europa marker; one of the larger indentured crews, maybe? Boxed crooks for the most part; failed mercenaries, jailed thieves. Hired guns, out in this part of the world. Dangerous men, for dangerous work. Telin couldn’t quite place it.

Still, a chill colder than anything beyond the confines of his hard-suit crept along the nape of Telin’s neck.

They paused at the entrance wound to the ship. If Speyer was perturbed by the unusual nature of the ship, he didn’t show it. The man was evidently hardened - and certainly better travelled than Telin, who had spent most of his life here on Venus.

“You first, Gentlemen.” Speyer motioned. “Your find, your show.”

Telin and Kelpo dropped down into the ancient ship. Before the next men came through, Kelpo caught his eye and flashed a hand gesture. It was Miner Sign; taught between members of the lowest echelons of Corpus Society. A single phrase, almost too quick to process before it was gone.

Worried.

Speyer and Wen squeezed through behind them, taking in the ship with practised detachment. Telin could hear large bolts being machine-stamped into the side of the ship’s frozen hull. Speyer’s team evidently did not place a high priority on conservation.

“Should… should you guys be that rough with this kind of find?” Kelpo winced as another bolt was slammed into the ship. It sounded like a gun shot in the confined space.

“It’s not the ship that matters.” Speyer shrugged expansively. “Show me this survivor.”

They moved forward, Speyer pausing only to examine the shrouded figure in the centre of the ship with an incredulous shake of his head.

Speyer clapped his hands when he was presented with the golden casket, barking a small laugh. He crouched down and examined the readout on the boy’s casket.

This was not protocol. Where was their initial Finders Fee, the balance on Verification? This flew in the face of Anyo Corp due process. The credit counter on his HUD remained unchanged. None of this was normal. Pieces began to form in Telin’s mind. Smaller details, filling a larger whole.

While Speyer was unarmed, the rest of his men were most definitely packing. Detron hand cannons, antique slug throwers and Flux rifles. Ship boarding weaponry; compact, brutally efficient. Favoured by the marines of the Corpus Fleet. Or pirates.

Then it clicked. The Europa symbol on Speyer’s hard-suit was no work crew at all. It was an infamous chain gang, notorious for their participation in the sub-sector food riots.

Telin’s Life Lessons bore none of the gravitas of Nef Anyo’s teachings. There were no grand designs or hidden messages. No messianic vision. Just practical sense, thoroughly rooted self-interest:

If a deal seems to be going bad, it most definitely is.

Telin was suddenly acutely aware that Speyer’s lackey Wen had casually sidled to the entrance of the broken throne room, effectively boxing them in. Telin rapped his knuckles against the breastplate of his environment suit; a different coded language altogether; this one used in the labour pits of Solaris United; rapped out against gantries to alert workers about the approach of particularly vindictive overseers.

Danger.

Whether Kelpo understood or not, Telin couldn’t tell. There was no time.

“And he’s definitely alive?” Speyer was asking.

“There’s no telling how long he’s been there, but yeah.” Kelpo nodded, “Readings are stable.”

“Excellent. Truly excellent find.” Speyer turned and glanced up at his companion. “Pay the man, Wen.”

Far too quick to process, Wen produced a snub nosed pistol and neatly shot Kelpo in the head.

Kelpo toppled without so much as a murmur.

With a roar, Telin was on the man in a flash. Or at least he would have been, had he not been neatly tossed across the room. As the wind slammed from his lungs, Telin became very aware that he was no trained fighter, but that the men currently in the process of murdering them very much were.

Speyer and Wen looked down at him, with a combined look that could have been described as pity, were it not so laced with contempt.

“Brave effort, Scavver.” Speyer smiled. Then his face grew stony.

“Kill him.”

HWK-44 let out an avian shriek as it flew loose at high speed; crunching into Wen’s faceplate with a splintering crack. The man toppled lifeless to the floor, the drone wedged in his face.

The pistol tumbled free from the man’s hands, skittering across the floor.

Speyer and Telin both looked at the gun.

They looked back at each other.

They dove in unison.

Speyer had size, but Telin had a scrappy speed. Neither worked. Both landed in a sprawling heap at the same time, wrestling and snarling over the gun. Sledgehammer punches landed into Telin’s sides time and time again. Enraged, Telin jolted his helmet into Speyer’s, hard.

The pricing difference was clear: a disconcerting rivulet snaked its way across Telin’s vision, venting oxygen with a wet hiss. Speyer’s own visor remained pristine. Speyer guffawed, then savagely elbowed Telin in the throat. Telin fell back, gasping.

The gun came free in Speyer’s triumphant hands.

He shoved it in Telin’s face, leering over him.

Telin became keenly aware of every porous detail. The silver barrel of the battered pistol. The way the light glinted off the cracks of his visor. The cold, murderous rage in Speyer’s eyes.

This was it. This was how it ended.

A sheet of red exploded across Telin’s vision.

Stricken, Speyer’s body tumbled to one side. Jutting out the back of his neck was a low budget scanning wand. It had been driven clean through the base of the skull; spearing out between his teeth. The man’s leg kicked and spasmed, not quite accepting the suddenness of his fate.

The wand for its part emitted a keening wail, declaring the very sudden flat-lining of its victim.

Kelpo stood over him, chest heaving. His faceplate a broken wreck, venting oxygen and streaming blood across the deck.

“Tel old buddy.” Kelpo managed through mangled teeth. “Somehow I don’t think they’re inclined to share.”

Link to comment
Share on other sites
(XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139

(XBOX)Katsuhiro 1139

Posted
  • Author
Posted (edited)

“With every crisis, opportunity.”

-          Ancient business proverb

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Tell me again how you’re still breathing, Kelp?”

Telin hastily patched the cracks in his visor, sealing it with crude industrial tape. A bargain basement solution; cheap by his own frugal standards. He could barely see. In a panic he dumped his gear all over the hold, desperate to salvage the situation.

Now he was trying desperately to salvage whatever remained of Kelpo’s face. What little medical supplies they carried were swiftly used up. Kelpo’s face sooner became more gauzing and hastily wrapped bandages than exposed skin. His suit bleeped at him petulantly, a constant reminder of his depleting oxygen levels. The entire facemask was broken.

“Thick skulled, hard-headed. Plain old stubborn.” Kelpo’s voice words came out thickly slurred. “Take your pick.”

“Don’t make me laugh. This is hard enough without you fidgeting.”

“I’m not fidgeting.” Kelpo scowled.

The man was a mess. The bullet had shattered Kelpo’s helmet, fragmented and torn ragged chunks out of his mouth, cheek and left eye. It was doubtful the eye could be saved without prosthetic replacement.

In a way, the antiquated nature of their environment suits saved his life; the older respirator serving as additional protection from the shards of slicing metal. It was through this same respirator that Kelpo took ragged breaths now, his face swelling massively and sealing his ruined eye shut.

The most pressing concern was the environment suit. The terraformed atmosphere was acceptable in very limited doses, but prolonged exposure at surface levels was a death sentence.

So Telin did what scavengers did best. He scavenged.

First he needed a set of tools. HWK-44 remained embedded in the remains of Wen’s face, where it warbled feebly. Telin crouched over and took a firm grip of the drone’s chassis and gave it a firm tug. It didn’t budge. Completely disgusted, Telin swallowed and tried again, this time adding a twist.

The drone ripped free, together with most of the contents of Wen’s skull.

Telin did his best not to recycle the contents of his stomach into his environment suit. It proved a struggle.

“Still with me buddy?” he asked HWK.

The drone’s left spinner was a mangled wreck, but it kept itself afloat; spooling up one of its propulsion generators to compensate. It hooted groggily.

“Good. We’ve work to do.”

Speyer’s visor served as an acceptable replacement for Kelp’s, once it had been duly emptied of the loose teeth skittering around inside. Telin made Kelpo keep his original respirator. Primarily because he was concerned removing it would do more harm than good.

HWK-44 got to work fusing the back of Kelp’s newly acquired helmet shut. Kelp held his head in his hands and tried his best to stay still. Telin had dressed the man’s wounds as best he could with sorely limited expertise, but throwing gauzing at the issue wasn’t going to help unless they got him proper medical attention, and quickly.

Meanwhile, Telin took inventory.

An initial glance gave them Wen’s pistol, some emergency flares, and a wicked looking knife Telin found secreted in Speyer’s boot. He then opened Speyer’s pack, which afforded him three hand grenades and an emergency survival kit. Another knife. Some kind of knuckle duster. There was more inside, but something  else caught his attention.

A squawking, tinny rasp emanated from the ruins of the dead men’s suits. Speyer’s men, doubtlessly looking for a sit-rep.

Then a heavy set of boots slammed down on the forward deck.

“Boss, you there?” a modulated voice called. “We’re all set!”

The footsteps clanged closer.

Telin searched with increased urgency. He scattered the contents of the pack across the floor.

A lumpy box fell onto the ground. Telin snatched it up.

It unfolded in his hands. Detron was the brand stencilled along the side. Telin had seen the weapons from afar; carried by patrolling crewmen. He had never held one, nor had he any idea how it worked; how difficult it was to fire.

The footsteps rang closer; descending the the rear ramp now. Telin rose to his feet, ducking against the low wall. He waved at Kelpo. As groggy as his friend was, the message was clear. Kelpo lay flat on the deck, sprawled amongst the corpses of the two fallen marauders.

Telin held his breath and waited.

He heard the rasping of the rebreather before he saw the nose of the rifle poke through the open hatch. An arm followed, then the shoulder it was attached to. The crewman instinctively started forward when he spied the three bodies piled messily across the floor.

Telin pressed the Detron to the back of the man’s head and squeezed the firing stud.

There was a keening flash, and a shockingly limited amount of recoil. A tremendous sheet of blood painted the far wall. The man’s corpse clanged gracelessly to the floor, his skull neatly vaporised above cheek level.

The Detron, it transpired, was user friendly.

Telin looked down at the body in stunned silence. He had never killed a man before. In less than thirty minutes, three now lay dead from one not entirely simple find.

Part of him wanted to cast the weapon aside in disgust. A deeper, rage-fuelled part of him felt perfectly calm.

The squawks on the dead men’s com channels grew louder, more insistent.

Outside, they heard a single large propulsion drive snort into life with roaring flare. The discarded gear scattered throughout the hold began to vibrate and jump under the ever increasing thrum of the drill gaining power. Everything rattled.

Then there came a rattling of chains. A snaking, uncoiling sound, as they tightened.

The entire ship jolted, once.

Then the ancient ship began moving, emitting a metallic screech as it was dragged steadily across the subterranean cavern with ever-mounting speed.

Both scavengers swore as they drunkenly pulled themselves toward the front of the ship; lurching from stanchion to stanchion. The nose of the ship began tipping upward just as Telin pulled himself through the access wound.

The drill was above them, its chains taut with the strain of lifting the immense ship. Three immense chains secured the ship to the drill. Perched atop the ascending rig was the single surviving member of Speyer’s retrieval team. He was gesturing frantically to companions far above and out of sight.

The ammo counter on the side of the Detron read: 4. Telin was no soldier. He had no spare ammunition for it, nor would he know how to reload it even if he did. Still, he was a scavenger.

Improvisation was in his nature.

He took aim at the heavy chains lifting the ships slowly from the cavern floor. He squeezed the trigger; once, twice, three times. He missed repeatedly. Three creaking chains continued to haul them upward, taunting him.

The ship left the ground entirely now.

Telin took careful aim, trying to see past the hastily taped patches obscuring his vision. He pressed the firing stud one final time.

His final shot missed the chains completely, sparking off the hull of the boring drill and sizzling the paintwork ever so slightly. The drill operator swore down at him with a balled fist.

Marksmanship was not his strong suit. Telin swore and threw the useless weapon aside.

“Tel!”

Telin looked down. Kelp had appeared in the gap of the hull, his gnarled face a frenzy of determination. He thrust something up into Telin’s hands.

“You dropped this!”

It was Telin’s battered plasma cutter.

The cutter was ancient. It had limited range, a temperamental battery; little to no accuracy. All but useless at the best of times.

It was perfect.

The cutter snarled to life in a flaring arc of plasma, slashing through the chains and spraying the cavern in a bubbling shower of molten sparks. The first chain snapped and the  ship swung low like a pendulum, carving a runnel across the snow. Then the second chain then gave way, tipping the ship on its side entirely and spilling the two scavengers down onto the floor below.

The third chain groaned and quivered under immense strain. The drill operator visibly panicked  as the rig itself spun giddily on its axis, entirely off-balance. Spinning with it was the ancient ship, suspended by a single tether. The metallic groan reached fever pitch.

Kelpo realised they stood directly beneath it.

“Move!” he bawled, hurling himself bodily into Telin.

The chain snapped. A shadow descended. There was a tremendous crash, and a splash of bubbling coolant.

Both scavengers blinked. Inches from them was the nose of the beached star ship, staring at them goofily. The glowing ends of the severed chains sizzled in the dark.

The drill disappeared up and out of sight, leaving them alone.

For a moment neither man spoke. They lay on their backs, battered and exhausted.

“Good shout with the cutter.” Telin breathed.

“Yeah.” Kelpo panted. “Thanks for patching me up.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. You look terrible.”

“That’s a first.” Kelpo grin instantly became a grimace. He groaned and put a hand up to his bolted on visor. “Tell me you have a plan beyond me getting shot in the head again.”

“Workin’ on it.” Telin propped himself up on his elbows. “I hate to say, but we need to move.”

“Yeah, just let me rest here a moment.”

Telin was already dusting himself off. He shook his head.

“No. No time. We need to go. Get the casket, wake the kid; back to our ship.”

“What about the salvage?”

“Far as I can tell?” Telin hauled Kelpo back to his feet. “Kid is the salvage.”

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

“You sure this is a good idea?” Kelpo asked a final time.

They stood before the golden casket. The ship had fortunately landed flat on its belly, though not before rag-dolling the various corpses strewn about the hold. Scattered gear lay everywhere. Blood coated the walls, flecked the ceiling. Before the abortive extraction, the room was a mess. Now it was like an abattoir.

The sleeper lay serene, oblivious to it all.

“You got a better one? We’ve no lift gear, and I’m not leaving the kid to thieving scum.”

“Telin Voss, developing a conscience?” Kelpo asked askance.

“Hardly. We’ll sell the kid. Get what’s owed.”

“You’re all heart, Tel.”

Kelpo knelt down before the casket, examining the control panel. For all its ornate presentation, Corpus variants had evidently borrowed large elements of its design. He began keying in the revival sequence.

“I hope this kid can walk.” Kelpo grumbled as he typed.

The casket began to glow as its doors prepared to open.

“Focus.” Telin shushed him. “He’s coming around now.”

“I’m just saying, I’m not carrying him. I don’t even have a face anymore.”

Telin didn’t get a chance to respond.

The pod opened with a whooshing hiss as it vented air into the hold.

Neither man dared to breath. Their entire investment was on the line.

The boy’s eyes snapped open.

 

 

Edited by (XB1)Katsuhiro 1139
Link to comment
Share on other sites
(PSN)thefallenloser

(PSN)thefallenloser

Posted
Posted
17 hours ago, (XB1)Katsuhiro 1139 said:

There was a keening flash, and a shockingly limited amount of recoil. A tremendous sheet of blood painted the far wall. The man’s corpse clanged gracelessly to the floor, his skull neatly vaporised above cheek level.

The Detron, it transpired, was user friendly.

Oh my, the accuracy of this statement...

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Create an account or sign in to comment

You need to be a member in order to leave a comment

Create an account

Sign up for a new account in our community. It's easy!

Register a new account

Sign in

Already have an account? Sign in here.

Sign In Now
 Share
Go to topic listing
×
×
  • Create New...