Humans for Hire

The morning, such as it was, arrived with a little chirruping alarm stirring the three to wakefulness. Muranaga and Gryzzk were alert and awake almost immediately, while Nhoot was uncertainly stirring - the mood seemed a bit somber. Gryzzk had heard the door slide open in the middle of the evening, and saw two packages. One for him specifically, and one that was labeled breakfast.

Muranaga stretched a bit to get ready for the day. "Alright Gryz, we got one hour before assembly, 90 minutes we're on the ground." He then opened the box marked breakfast, passing the trays over to Gryzzk and Nhoot. Inside was a steaming tray of some sort of meat that looked well cooked, and two yellow circles surrounded by white along with something unknown. The aroma from the tray seemed a bit flat, as was the norm for Terran cuisine. He resolved to find a way to introduce the Terrans to food with taste.

Muranaga noted the hesitation from both Nhoot and Gryzzk. "Steak and eggs. Traditional breakfast for going into dangerous spots."

Gryzzk nodded, trying to ignore the implication and ate quickly, thinking the thoughts that plagued anyone in a similar situation since the dawn of time. This was insane. He seemed to have been accepted to a degree, but at the same time he wasn't a soldier. He wasn't supposed to be here. He was a Lead Servant, trained since he could walk to anticipate his lords' needs - sometimes even days in advance, as well as maintaining the household and keeping them to the highest standard. He started tapping his feet nervously and finally forced himself to pay attention to Nhoots' meal, making sure that her medication was spread into the egg portion of her breakfast. Nhoot didn't seem troubled, and made sure the tray was licked clean before sneaking it into her hammock with the others.

Muranaga had laid out his weapons kit, going through a little ritual of sorts. A small wristband, then the one-piece suit of underclothes. Over that went the pants and shirt that were more packets than anything else, and finally the armor proper. Gryzzk prepared himself similarly, and a bit more quickly then the first few times he'd tried it though Laroys' gris-gris did not seem to want to stay in a comfortable position. Gryzzk secured Reillys' emotional support shotgun to his leg last. When he was done he looked at the package that had arrived.

It was a replacement for his shotgun as well as a second piece of hardware that looked ancient - it resembled an ancient weapon from before the Great Civilization, a simple but brutish thing. He remembered the archaeologist talking about it, how the Wood-wise of old would search the trees and find the thickest branches and knots, and then carve them into a club with a heavy ball-shape on the end. This was similar in form, but it seemed that Terrans had put more into it. This was made of light metal with a weight of some sort that moved as it was swung. On the heavy end was a series of barbs, meant to bite into and rend flesh. It was beautiful and terrifying at the same time.

Muranaga glanced at Gryzzk as he looked it over. "That is the M-49 Close Defense Weapon. Though everyone who uses them consistently calls it The Learning Stick. You've been given one because someone looked over our reports and decided you need one."

Gryzzk noticed that Muranaga had a weapon that was from the same family, but it was thinner and had an activation stud of some sort. After consideration, he decided that he didn't want to know what exactly it was. He wasn't entirely sure he'd like the answer.

There was a small card attached to it that read in a rough script "If you forget how to reload your shotgun, use this you thick muppet." It was signed First Sergeant Brooks. Gryzzk paused, considering several things. First, that the ocular translator was having difficulty determining if "thick muppet" was an endearment or insult. Second was that First Sergeant Brooks would have made an excellent servant if she were Vilantian. He mutely showed Muranaga the card, cocking his head slightly.

Muranaga read it and smirked. "She likes you enough that she doesn't want you dead. And she doesn't want to fill out the paperwork to replace another shotgun."

"Thick muppet?" Gryzzks question was obvious.

"Friendly insult."

"How is an insult...never mind, we have things to attend." The line of questioning could be satisfactorily answered once they were back in R-space and had time for long discussion, and presumably they would be able to move freely.

"We do." Then Muranaga turned to Nhoot, placing a hand on her shoulder. Nhoot seemed untroubled by the Terran gesture.

Gryzzk took a knee to speak to Nhoot. "We're going to have to go, but this is a safe place. We'll be back as soon as we can, and then we'll find out where you belong." And then he briefly touched his nose to hers for an eternal moment.

"Papa-Gryzzk will be home soon. Miss Rhipl'i said so." Nhoot stated this with the surety only a child could deliver.

Muranaga nodded, before turning to Gryzzk. "Helmet on - tac-data's there for us. We've got an area layout, but nothing on the interior. Hopefully it's a Vilantian storage unit."

Gryzzk slipped his helmet on and the visor filled with an area display with several items being marked in red and yellow while an electronic voice chattered about what appeared to be dangerous things in red, and yellow marking potential entry points. Overall it seemed an old fortress from before the Great Civilization had been brought to this place and planted. Once the data had finished displaying, they removed their helmets and exited their quarters.

Their timing was good as the rest of the squad came jogging up with Roberts leading the way in the dim lighting of the hallway. They came to a clattering halt.

"Ready for inspection."

"Outstanding sergeant." Muranaga paused. "Alright, here's the drill. Tac-data's loaded, and I know you've read it at least once. Do it again on the way down. We're headed for an area on the northern half of B. We'll need to move fast, sweep the place, eliminate anything that looks hostile, and then we look for their Throne-heir. The heir will have a beacon for location, so watch for that ping. Visual matching will be performed, however most likely they'll have their shoulders covered and no scars. We will have air support on station, but orbital bombardment is right out until the Heir is secured. The Heir is the priority, so until we find them or confirm that they're not there we keep moving. And as a second reminder, weapons tight. We kill the heir - even accidentally, we cause an interplanetary incident and more importantly we don't get paid. There's a lot of unknown, but that's why they send recon in first." Muranaga walked up and down the line, looking for anything the sergeant might have missed. Finally satisfied, Muranaga nodded. "Bulldogs. Ready up."

There was a chorus of growls and woofs from the squad, which died down after a period.

"Sergeant, lead 'em to the drop pod."

Roberts nodded. "You heard the man. Let 'em know we're coming."

The squad broke into an odd march, stomping their feet twice, and then a handclap. And then the rhythm repeated, two stomps and a handclap. This repeated until Roberts and Laroy broke into a song of sorts. They were chastising a boy playing in the streets with mud on his face, declaring that he was a big disgrace by kicking a can all over the place. Then the entire group shouted some manner of...it sounded like a threat at least. Terran idiom was not translated cleanly. Then Reilly and Edwards sang a different verse, chastising a young-man-hard-man who was fighting in the streets and would take on the world some day. With blood on his face he was a big disgrace, waving his banner all over the place. Then they all returned to the threatening phrase, before the entire squad chastised an old-man-poor-man who was pleading with his eyes for some peace. Similar to the boy, there was mud on the old-man-poor-man's face and it was declared that he would be put back into his place.

The singing stopped as they approached their launch craft and entered. There were multiple rows of seats, much like the shuttle he'd arrived on. That said, this one was crammed with consoles and what appeared to be weaponry controls. Much like the boarding sequence, there was no humor as everyone filed to their seat, leaving Gryzzk with a spot next to Laroy, who was inspecting an obscenely large rifle with a masters' eye. Directly in front of them were Reilly and Edwards. The two of them were focused, tapping consoles and looking at displays before nodding. At the forefront were Roberts and Muranaga, going through some sort of checklist before launch. Once everyone was completed with their tasks, they secured their helmets. And waited.

During this, Gryzzk waited for Reilly to complete her tasks. Once completed, Gryzzk tapped her shoulder for attention to give her the loaned shotgun. She didn't say anything as she secured it to its' proper place in the small of her back, but Gryzzk smelled something he couldn't discern from her. He was going to have to spend a lot of time sorting out what scent transferred to what emotion – assuming he survived and was able to convince the Throne-heir of the truth. He left those thoughts alone for the moment, sliding his visor down to re-review the tactical data from earlier.

Muranaga's' name flashed on the visor. "Alright, all squads are loaded in – get snug, we're launching in 5. "

Everyone grabbed their restraining harness as a countdown floated down to 0, and there was a jolt, a spin, and then acceleration that bordered on abusive as their craft danced through the stars and then steadied before there was a glow of fire coming from the edges of their window. As it became brighter, there was a thump throughout the craft as Muranaga and Roberts each manipulated controls.

Reillys' voice came over the squad channel. "Sep complete. It's just us and Newton till we hit the ground. Laroy, you check the deceleration pods?"

Laroy gave a snort. "Three times, cher. I can do it a fourth time if you want, but you hafta open the door first."

This seemed to be a joke of sorts as there was small exhalations coming from the rest of the squad. Edwards clipped voice came in next. "Comms green, sensors coming online. Looks like the whole area's surrounded by a minefield. Movement up top, could be guards."

The comms were silent for a moment before Muranaga spoke. "Laroy, you up for a Grasshopper?"

"All day ev' day Le'ten'et."

"That's the plan then. Get prepped. Roberts, set down at the edge of the minefield. Once he's done get us moving, I want us on the roof before they're cold." There was a pause. "Edwards, got anything I like to hear?"

Edwards' voice was crisp and clear. "Negative. No air assets that ain't us. No anti-aircraft. No activity on any channels. It's too damn quiet sir."

"Hmm. The may be thinking protect something by making it look like nothing. Gryzzk, this standard?"

Gryzzk was startled to hear his name called out. "I, am uncertain. Vilantians do not fight in the air. It may be that the Hurdop follow the same logic."

There was a hmph. "Doesn't mean they don't know how to look up. Roberts, rapid descent protocol."

There was no acknowledgment, only the craft nosing over and spiraling through the thickening air. Gryzzk felt his innards lurch in multiple directions at once, and it was only with an effort that he was able to keep his breakfast where it was meant to be, and in another few moments their craft leveled a few meters off the ground as Roberts fought to decelerate with a series of hard turns to bleed off their energy.

"Laroy, go." Muranagas' half of the screen had turned into a view of the parapet, with the distance listed as 6 kilometers. Laroy popped out the back of the craft, and he and Muranaga began having a discussion if Gryzzk was reading the name colors properly. Gryzzk heard three pops from outside, a pause of eternal seconds, and then Laroy threw himself back in and dogged the hatch. He reeked of propellant and seemed cross with himself. The squad channel came alive long enough to hear Laroy mutter "meant to hit that last one in the upper left eye..."

There wasn't exactly time to ask detailed questions, as the hatch had no sooner been closed than the craft began screaming forward and then somehow launched into the air with all engines cut. Gryzzks' eyes went wide as his view showed their craft aiming for and then landing in the center of the fortress area.

The entire squad boiled out of the back hatch with Gryzzk last as he struggled with the release for his harness before joining them. They moved as one to the lone doorway, moving quickly and silently – only breathing could be heard over the squad channel. Reilly moved to the door, checking it and giving a solid yank and then Roberts followed by rolling a pair of cylinders through, which sounded as if they were going down stairs before giving a small series of pops.

Muranaga called out "Seal check" as something wafted up through the door. Even through the seals, Gryzzk felt his eyes start to water a bit – it seemed whatever had been thrown was non-lethal but highly unpleasant. After that Edwards sent her own cylinders through the door, but these were unaffected by gravity, moving like small birds. The squad paused, waiting. Finally her voice came on the squad channel.

"Three floors total. seems to be lightly guarded, picking up biosigns for about a platoon element – twenty, possibly as many as twenty-five. Bottom floor's fuzzy. We got one stairwell down throughout the whole thing. Map incoming." Edwards was clipped and no-nonsense.

Reilly came on next, her voice equally serious. "Relaying to Command."

Gryzzk studied the map on his visor for a moment – it seemed like there was a missing element, were this a Vilantian design. He unsealed his visor a crack to get the scent of the place and paused for a long moment. Stone, metal, cold and wet dominated the air, along with a twinge of whatever was in those grenades that had been thrown. There was also an undertone of something behind a cleverly hidden door, familiar and yet not at the same time.

Gryzzk cleared his throat for the squad channel. "Door, here." And he pushed against a section of the wall that gave slightly before springing back and sliding to the left.

Gryzzk felt himself get yanked rudely to one side by Edwards as bullets transited the space where he'd just been, scattering chips of stone over the squad. In the interim two more grenades went in, popping out smoke of some kind that instantly reminded Gryzzk he'd undone his visor seal. In the seconds it took for his visor to reseal and filter out the air he was left weeping from every orifice his face possessed. He could faintly hear Reilly over the squad channel saying "Baka-baka-mother[bzzt]-dumb[bzzt]!". This was in addition to the rest of the squad calling out targets and confirming not the heir before moving forward. Gryzzk scrambled to his feet and felt chastised, but at least he was alive to be chastised.

The squad swept the room rapidly – despite its size, the amount of crates and storage containers inside filled the majority.

Once it was called as clear, Edwards walked over to Gryzzk and smacked his helmet solidly. "You pull another dumb baby nooblet move like that again and we'll let them shoot you. You open a door and get clear of it." And then she wrapped him in a hug. "Gryz, you dumb[bzzt]."

Gryzzk could only nod as Edwards smacked his helmet again. "Now let's see what's so valuable that's these people were willing to die defending it."

The popped open several crates, looking through them and confirming what Gryzzks nose had already told him. "Food. Vilantian war rations, we put them in a cup of water and drink it. This floor alone would be enough to keep this squad alive for" he paused to think, "several years. Supposedly one cup will last a day, possibly two. But it is a very bland diet." Gryzzk looked more closely and pointed. "The crest of the Throne is on these. They may have been stolen from ships."

Muranaga kept quiet during the discussion, filing things away. "Right then. No heir here, so next floor."

As Gryzzk took his position toward the front of the squad, they began moving down the spiral stairs with an eerie silence that reminded Gryzzk of the night predators from stories meant to frighten naughty children to bed. The second floor was similarly guarded, and similarly dealt with; first the door was opened and grenades of noxious gas were thrown in to incapacitate the guards, followed by the squad moving in and after making visual confirmation that the Throne-heir was not among the guards, they were dispatched like beasts to slaughter. Gryzzk, for his part hadn't fired a single shot.

In contrast to the first floor, the second was full of the inert dense matter that could be formed into almost anything with the proper equipment. Unlike the first floor, these seemed to have more varied packing with crate marks from multiple Collective members.

Gryzzk tapped Muranaga on the shoulder once.

"Whatcha got?" Muranagas' voice was tense and clipped."

"These crates. They're guarding these...basic things along with the Throne-heir? This does not smell proper. If these things have an equal value to the Hurdop, is it not possible that the Hurdop are in a more desperate position than we know?"

There was a nod. "Yeah, it's possible. But this could also be a fakeout. We'll know in a sec." Muranaga then switched to the squad channel. "Edwards, get me a layout of the bottom floor."

Edwards set two cylinders on the ground and activated them. As she did so and the cylinders lifted and drifted forward, the rest of the squad formed a perimeter around her, keeping their weapons up and ready for any Hurdop reinforcements. After a long time, a floorplan showed on Gryzzks visor with Edwards voice coming in to narrate. "Open floorplan, looks like a meeting area or something. Visual confirmation, the Throne-Heir is seated in the back. You ain't gonna believe this, but..."

The floorplan dissolved to show Gryzzk the profile of his beloved Throne-heir, and then it backed out to show that they were talking to someone who could have been their twin, save for the Scars of the Nameless on the shoulders. Decorating the scars was an ink tattoo of brilliant color that left the viewer no doubt that these were a point of pride. Zooming further out, they saw what appeared to be guards in armor that appeared more ceremonial than functional.

Laroy piped up to ask the question. "Le'ten'nt we goin' in?"

Muranaga nodded. "Sling firearms. We ask nice, and if they don't answer nice, we insist. We're only outnumbered five to one, and we’re Bulldogs." To emphasize the point, he secured his pistol and brought out his baton to touch the stud, making it crackle with ozone as a current began to work its' way from handle to tip.

The rest of the squad mimicked his movements, with Gryzzk bringing the Learning Stick to his shoulder.

"Lead us in, Mister Gryzzk."