[Objective 2] Malisane Sadow 6169
Temnos Evaculations Mining Facility
Moon of Thillion
It was night. Around the mining facility the ground was mostly quiet, a few Temnos security personnel patrolled in pairs, keeping the peace and staying out the the way of the armoured soldiers of the Collective whose presence was passive but visible enough to make them nervous. They were even more wary around the heavily enhanced agents of the Technocrats who swagged about confidently as if they owned the place. Perhaps they did now?
Has any of the security personnel looked up at the right moment they might have noticed the silhouette of an black armoured figure crouched on top of one of the warehouses. Lieutenant Colonel Senth studied his surroundings curiously, making mental notes of everything he saw and weighing his options. He was grudgingly impressed by the efficiency with which the enemy had moved in and all but taken over the operation here. He glanced down at his datapad and studied the plan of the site, comparing it with the view in front of him for anything new. Finally he saw it. Though most of the collective soldiers were barracked at a large squat pre fabricated building a few hundred metres to the west of the facility, there was a smaller two level structure of similar construction on the site that was clearly their property. Their local site office. His target.
Between the warehouse he was stood on and the other side of the street was a thin pair of pipes that carried recycled air in and out of the buildings. Not daring to use his jetpack in the quiet night air he crouched down and made his way towards the pipe. Then he stopped. At the far end of the building opposite he could make out the armoured figure of a Collective trooper, watching the ground opposite where Senth was intending to go. Slowly He edged across the pipe, hoping no one below was looking up.
He reached the other side and began to move forward silently across the roof, keeping one hand close to the blaster pistol on his belt. The trooper did not move, and seemed to be watching someone moving about on the ground, his rifle held loosely in one hand. Senth moved slowly and as he did he moved his hand slightly and with practised efficiency withdrew the hidden blade from his belt, holding it in his left hand and his finger over he release button.
The trooper still did not sense anything behind him until a black armoured arm wrapped round his neck pulling him down and grabbing his helmet wrenching it up. Grabbing at the arm the trooper struggled until a sharp blade slid into the gap between his armour and into his jugular. As warm blood spurted out Senth slowly lowered him to the ground rolling on his back. Senth held the trooper down until he was dead then looked over the edge. The Technocrat site office was opposite, the main entrance guarded by two troopers and another walking about on the roof. Senth breathed a sigh of relief. The security was not as bad as he had feared.
Slowly he crouched down into a firing position, taking the silenced blaster carbine from his back and sighting along the barrel. The guard on the roof was slightly out of range and he waited patiently, until the man began walking towards the nearest edge. Senth focused on his face and when the moment felt right he fired, aiming his shot to the eye sockets on the enemy's helmet. The guard slumped to the ground, sprawling backwards on the roof. The guards below outside the door had not reacted and stood still. Satisfied Senth replaced the rifle and with a quick glance to the area below he slipped down to the ground.
He quickly darted across the street, his pistol now held in his hand. There was a narrow gap between the Collective site office and the edge of a building his plan identified as the miners canteen. From within there emerged faint smells of food and the sounds of conversation. Senth made his way around through the gap and slowly looked around the edge. A lone trooper was stood facing out into the night. Taking a deep breath Senth sneaked forward and with the same quick movements dispatched him with his blade, then dragged the body back into the gap. Satisfied he walked around the back of the site office. There were two windows on this side, one on each level. Utilising his parkour skills he quickly climbed up to the upstairs window, and keeping a grip with his left he took took the arc welder from his backpack and began his work.
Erok Drook of the Technocrat Guild walked slowly back to the office, ignoring the fearful glances of the mining personnel who passed him giving a wide berth. Behind him two troopers followed respectfully. He was tired but satisfied. In the short time since they had been invited to take over the mining facility he was proud of his teams progress. The quantity of kiber crystals secured exceeded even their optimistic estimates. If all went well by the time the infidels from the Dark Brotherhood arrived they would have completed shipment. He smiled. His promotion was assured following this.
The two troopers either side of the doorway stood to attention as he passed. He ignored them. He glanced down at his clothing in distaste noticing it was dirty and dusty, as was he. He turned to his own guards. “I am returning to my room. I do not wish to be disturbed.”
“Yes sir.”
He made his way inside. The interior hallway was simple with lights on the walls and ceilings and several doorways leading off. A staircase lead upstairs which he took. He he walked along the corridor to the room at the end and bent slightly for the scanner to read his retina. There was a satisfying beep and the door slid open and he stepped through.
Inside was his personal quarters, small but functional, a desk at one end, a single bed at the other, and a small shower cubicle. He gave a slight smile when he noticed his favourite bottle of liquor had been replaced on the desk next to a small glass by a thoughtful servant. He quickly undressed, placing his dirty clothes in a bin and taking his robe from the back of the door and slipping it on. It was then he felt a slight draft and looked in puzzlement at the window, noticing a slight gap.
He was just registering this when an armoured glove clutched his throat from behind and an arm wrapped around his body. He struggled, his enhanced limbs fighting against the grip. He managed to twist and faced off against his assailant, a tall figure in black armour. They struggled for a few seconds as he tried to dislodge the grip squeezing his throat, before he was pushed backwards against the wall. He flailed out with his free hand ineffectively striking the helmeted head before his own was smashed backwards against the wall. He continued to struggle until his vision began to dim. He felt himself lowered to the floor.
He awoke a few minutes later feeling the unpleasant feeling of liquid splashing over him and the familiar smell of his favourite liquor. He was naked, and his wrists and feet were tied with his robe belt and what felt like the cable from his viewscreen. The armoured figure was stood over him pouring. After a few seconds the empty bottle was dropped to the floor.
“Welcome back,” the figure said quietly.
“Brotherhood scum,” Erok spat, “are you one of their slaves?”
“Save your insults,” the figure told him, “we have much to discuss.”
“I'll tell you nothing.”
“That would be unwise,” the figure replied, “and do not bother shouting for assistance. You make these buildings well. No one will hear.”
“Do your worst,” the Technocrat spat, “I do not fear death.”
“That is fortunate,” the figure replied, “as you are to die.”
Erok closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. “Very well. So why would I tell you anything? What difference would it make?”
“The difference is how you die.” The figure produced a small blade in his left hand. “This is the easy way.” The other hand rose holding an arc welder. The figure gestured it towards the trail of the flammable liquor that spread across the floor and covered Erok's own naked body. “There is of course a harder way.”
Evok closed his eyes again. “I see.”
The figure replaced the blade in his belt and took out a datapad, pressing a few buttons until a recording light began to flash. “Now I am going to record what happens next. I would prefer it to be your confession.”
Security Headquarters.
Lyra Colony
The Following Day
Amara Cirrus entered her office irritably and sat at her desk. So far nothing was clear. The Dark Brotherhood attack made no sense to her. Their quick and brutal attacks had served to shake up the populace and the senate but it was a flawed strategy. They had made no obvious territorial gains. And their fleets, conspicuous by their absence, were either reacting slowly or they had another target in mind that escaped her. The facts currently presenting themselves pointed towards their guilt but it was not her job to make quick assumptions, she left that to the politicians.
She glanced up at a polite knock at the door. “Come!” she barked.
The door opened and a servant entered, a human with short, dark hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He was carrying a tray. “I have brought your lunch Sir,” he said nervously without meeting her gaze.
“Put it on the table and leave.”
He nodded. “At once Sir.” He quickly placed it the tray on the table, and then with a bow he scurried out.
She sighed. She was actually hungry. She walked over to the table and sat down, pulling the tray towards her then frowned. The plate was unlevel, and when she moved it there was a datapad under it. Picking it up she noticed it was unlocked and a light flashed indicating it had a recorded message.
Fifteen minutes later she turned to her deputy, a powerfully build and thoughtful man. “So what did you make of that?”
He considered it for a moment. “It was clearly obtained by coercion.”
“Obviously,” she replied, “he was bound and naked. But it has an air of truth to it I find disturbing. And why deliver it like that when they could have transmitted it directly to the senate?”
“Have they found the servant who brought it?” her deputy asked.
“No he has not been found,” she replied. She steepled her fingers, “tell no one of this. We will investigate. If it proves to be a cheap attempt at manipulation we will report that. If not then it might lead to something bigger. Send someone you trust to Thillion.”
“At once Sir.”