Partnership

Chris000

"It has been said that society is based on balance. Balance that upholds the very nature of what we have created. But what of those who wish to usurp society? Those that wish to put this creation at risk? Unfortunately, since its expansion into interstellar space, Humanity has made a new enemy: Itself. Without proper administration, those wishing to separate would cause disastrous effects on the greater Human civilization. Without proper administration and attention, we would destroy ourselves."

-Elias Carver

Allen Tiberius Roan's only task on his family farm was to make sure that everything moved along smoothly. The suns of Sigma Octantis IV were just poking above the far mountaintops, bathing Allen in a warm glow. He enjoyed the sunlight, as he did every day. It cheered him up, offered him hope. He gripped his shovel tighter in his hands and set to work digging a new hole. Dad had asked him to plant some new trees in rich soil, so he had been out here since four thirty digging holes, planting seeds, and adapting saplings. Farming was an old tradition, well over thirty thousand years old, but now it had become much more important than anything else that Allen had known. Since Humans got off Earth, there had been a need to ship supplies back to the homeworld and the Inner Colonies. That was the job of the Outer Worlds, borderlands on space, untapped resources, and rich soil to grow food in.

Allen's family was one of the best.

The Roans had been farmers since the mid 2600s, and they had been very successful. A handful of Roans had tried to make it big on Earth. Nobody in the neighborhood knew if they did it or not. Easy to lose yourself on a planet numbering over 1 trillion in citizens. His family also fought in the Human/Covenant War, and participated in the liberation of his world. But he had no desire to go to fighting. Why would he? Everything he needed was here, save for his education. Allen had been accepted to the University of Berlin, a major institution in Germany on Earth. Allen was a smart boy, scoring stright 'A's on every assignment, all while keeping the farm in good working order. His parents always claimed that they had no idea where he had gotten his smarts from, but Dad always said it was probably him.

"Morning, boy." A voice growled. Allen looked up and saw his father standing in the rising sun.

"Hey, Pop."

The man looked up and down the field. "God damn, you've been working! 50 saplins since 4:30?"

"I was in a good mood today."

Allen's father shifted weight. "Uh...there's something I wanted to talk to you about." He reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope.

"What's that, Pop?" Allen asked. He then saw the notarized stamp. "Oh God, Pop! Let me see that!"

"It's...from that fancy school that you applied to. It's a flight departure time. You're gonna leave in a week."

Allen read the letter that his father gave him twice over.

"This...this is in Bainsburough. That's a ten hour drive!"

"That's OK. Your mother and I will take you."

"What about the boys?"

"Your brothers are coming too. Terry and Kraig are going nuts. They're excited that they won't have to share rooms anymore." Allen's father laughed and coughed a little. "Listen son, do me a favor, will you?"

"What's that Pop?"

"Please write back to your mother and me often?"

"Dad, it doesn't cost anything for you to recieve a call. You deserve to see me."

"No, no, no. I won't put you through that. Roans have always been economic. That's why we're one of the best farming families this side of Yultide, hell, I'd push that to the rest of Sig-iv!" he added pushing the nickname for the world up. He placed a strong and callused hand on his son's shoulder. "Just promise me that you'll keep in touch then, one way or another. We clear, boy?"

Allen smiled. How couldn't he at a weathered and loving face like his father? "Ok, Pop. I can do that."

"Attaboy! Hey, I'll help pitch in here. Still can't believe you've been out here since 4:30! Ain't that the darndest...?"

Six Years Later...

"Allen? Allen Roan!"

Allen shuddered as his name was called. He dropped back into awareness, back from the dream that he had been seeing in his head ever since he left Sigma Octantis, the last time he physically saw his family. He was in a cafeteria of sorts that was filled with men and women talking, laughing, and eating. He was eating a bowl full of a type of soup called Greek, all the way from Valhalla. Despite its name, it was in no way European tasting, did not share the aroma, or even the pigments that he would normally expect from the soup. However, just because it didn't taste like he pictured it didn't mean it was bad. He just drifted out for a second and didn't notice a man standing in front of him.

"Oh, Major."

"Don't you 'Oh, Major" me! We're not having a fucking moment!"

"Sorry sir."

"Anyway, regional CEO wants to talk to you. Must be something important."

"Why? Did he say?"

"Not a damn thing. I reccomend you finish your liquid crap and get the hell on, you hear?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

Well, Allen's life had taken an interesting turn after school. He had finished with good grades, earning diplomas in Agriculture, Business Management, Financial Sciences, and Psychology. He had originally intended to expand his family business with his newfound skills, but a job offer right after caught his attention. The representative had said that the company he represented, Vanguard Enterprises, was a multi-lateral company that spread across a decent portion of Human Space, and that Allen's grades had impressed him. When he showed him what he could make if he accepted the offer, Allen was hooked.

Unfortunately, Allen's eagerness had landed him into a spot of trouble. Vanguard Enterprises was, as Allen later learned, a Private Military Corporation. Once in, though, there was no easy way out. It was with a heavy heart that he had to stretch the truth to his parents, saying that he had been taken on by a large company that was interested in his skill and that he was placed in an executive position. He had been at the company four years and already the CEO wanted to see him? What did he do, right or wrong for that matter?"

The CEO's office was an outcropping of the station they were on. He knocked on the door and it slid open. "Come in, Mr. Roan, come in." a charming voice said.

Allen stepped into the CEO's office. It was ornate. The large windows made Allen feel uncomfortable, so he averted his eyes and looked around. An expensive fireplace was burning in a marble hearth, bookshelves stacked to the ceiling, a holographic entertainment center was tucked in the back corner, and a large TV dominated the wall behind him. A spinning chair was facing the starfield beyond the window, and below it, a green planet.

"You, uh, wanted to see me sir?"

"I did." He spun around. A man nearly 80 years old, yet still looked and moved like a man almost fifty years younger looked at him. "Brandy? Coffee?"

"No thank you sir."

"Hmm." He set the bottles back in his desk compartment. "You know why I called you here?"

"Sir, I can't say that I do. I assume that I have done something wrong and am now facing the consequences for it."

The CEO burst out laughing. "Kid, you didn't do anything wrong! Far from it! You did something good! Very good!" He pulled out the bottle of brandy again and poured himself a glass. "You're funny! I like that!" He took a sip. "Ever since you came aboard Roan, we've been watching you. We watch all our agents. We monitor their progress, their actions, their decisions when it comes to completing the mission. We've seen some interesting things from you, Roan."

"Like what?"

"Your smarts are outstanding. You are a prodigy child! Hell, you managed to beat a Dumb AI in chess almost five times running and the only reason she won the sixth was because you had to go to the bathroom and she could analyze. You're also effecient! Almost every single client you've tackled said that you've been outstanding, plus you handles yourself well in that shootout with Warhammer's thugs."

"So, what is the purpose of this meeting, sir?"

The CEO looked at him with white-blue eyes. "My boy, what do you know about the Lone Wolves?"

That took Allen aback. He answered the best he could though. "Well, the Lone Wolves are kind of like the special forces of Vanguard Enterprises. They are sent on higher-risk missions to more remote regions of space. They get more high-tech gadgets and they have the ability to take a personal ship into the fray. They are not like the regular soldiers here at Vanguard, effectively unattached to the regular rank and file. They can do anything they want, accomplish their mission in any way that they deem neccessary, and most importantly, they don't answer to anybody."

"A+ answer, Mr. Roan." The CEO said. "The Wolves are the prime aspiration of Vanguard. Everybody knows them, everybody wants to be them, not everybody can though."

"So, what are you getting at sir?" He thought he knew what the answer was though."

The CEO stood up and paced behind his desk. "Allen,"

Roan noticed that the CEO used his first name.

"Approximately three weeks ago, one of our Lone Wolf teams was investigating some sort of collective. Their investigation was related to something we had been working on for some time, but they were killed before anything could be done. The ship returned on its own thanks to the AI, but there's an issue: I need a new Lone Wolf."

The realization dawned on Allen's face. "Sir, you want me?"

"Certainly. Your record speaks for itself, Roan."

"Sir, I would be honored!"

"Good man! I'll put in the paperwork!"

Suddenly, another thought tugged at Allen's mind.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Yes?"

"Sir, I know that Lone Wolves usually work in pairs. Who's my partner?"

The CEO shifted. "Well, you see, we only knew that one was dead from the get go, but we listed the partner as MIA but her health beacon was still firing off. We had the best intentions and hoped that she was on the ship when we set it to auto-return, but later that week, her biometer flatlined. Her body was nowhere on the ship."

"So I have no partner." Roan thought, believing that he truly was a Lone Wolf now."

"Oh no. You have a partner. We found her only a few days ago. As a matter of fact..." the CEO glanced over Allen's shoulder. "You can come in now."

The door slid open and Allen glanced behind him. What he saw wasn't human, not exactly.

It was a Mobian.

Allen had heard of Mobians, They were some sort of aliens from an alternate universe or something like that. She was female, a fox fo some sort. She was almost as tall as Allen was, and her ebony hair was tied in a ponytail. Allen found himself staring at the slender fox, but altered his eyes back to the CEO.

"Mr. Roan, this is Samantha Jackson. She is one of twenty Mobians currently within Vanguard's ranks, and she is the first to become a Lone Wolf."

"Does she speak English?" That was not an attempt to be funny. Allen never had direct contact with one before, so the experience was a little shocking. He didn't know if she even spoke a language he could understand."

Samantha didn't seem fazed. "Mr. Roan, I am pleased to say that I speak many languages. I speak English, French, Portguese, Russian and Mandarin. I am also Conversant in German and Japanese."

"Wow." Allen said amazed.

"Miss Jackson scored very high on her entrance examination. She is adept with a weapon and is trained in psycological warfare as well as basic ship-board survival training."

"Just part of the job, sir." Jackson said, sitting up straight.

"Now, Mr. Roan, if I read your profile correctly, you grew up isolated from Earth, and you were on missions out here during the initial contact, so you never had very much physical contact with a Mobian."

Allen's eyes shifted to Samantha, who continued to watch the CEO. "No, none at all."

"Well, I've reviewed your case files. You're both skilled in multiple weapons. Miss Jackson is a master of interrogation techniques and you, Mr. Roan have a history of impersination, using your resources to get information. I also see you have had some experience on starships. Not very much, but enough to keep the reactor from going critical. That's alright though." The CEO drew an envelope. "This is your new mission. Comes right from the top."

He slid the envelope across the desk. Stamped on the envelope was a pyramid with an eye dead center.

"ONI..." Samantha said, scrutinizing the logo.

"What's that?" Allen asked.

"The Office of Naval Intelligence." Jackson said. "We take contracts from them?"

"Sometimes things get so bad they ask PMCs for help. We got lucky."

Allen opened the envelope. The message detailed that someone high up in Naval Intelligence, someone only known as KINGFISH was tasked with destroying a group of what they described as 'nostalgic terrorists' which had set up shop in a derelict system. The message stated that this group was said to have revived Soviet Communism and was gaining strength.

"Soviet Communism in the 33rd Century?" Samantha said laughing. "Soesn't sound very successful, now does it?"

"Well, this group thinks differently." the CEO stated. "ONI has enlisted help from multiple PMCs across Human Space, we're the latest. I wanted to pick out some Lone Wolves and you two are the ready available ones. I have to warn you though. We may know the base of operations, but we are not sure how much there are."

Samantha asked, "Hold on, I thought Marxism in theory was pure! Besides, Humans have allowed some leeway and let some small subsidary government be formed."

"You're correct on both counts. The only thing is that these wannabe Communists are acting in a self-destructive measure, and they want their privacy. If you see these pictures..."

The snapshots from a Slipspace Probe showed a group of bullet-shaped devices floating in space. "These are missiles, and if we are correct, they are surviving warheads from the Human/Covenant War. Now, half-life has decreased their power in radiation, but they are still quite potent in blast power. If the Communists find that their security has been threatened, then they will launch them at any planet nearby. Your mission is to assassinate the leader, Jorvich Svalantina. What we hope is that this will stop a tyrannical reign and hopefully the people can live the way they want to."

"So we're not destroying the Communist portion, we just want to get rid of the dictator."

"Conditions are terrible. The people will not last in these conditions. We're paid to get the job done, not to think. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir." They both said.

As it was a friday, Allen liked to spend his time in Charlie's, a bar owned by one of his best friends on the station Charlie Mallard. Charlie was behind the counter cleaning a glass. His dark skin was accented by the blackness of space beyond a window.

"Hey, white boy!"

"How you doing Charlie?"

"Not bad man. What'll you have?"

"Scotch rocks."

"You know, that's the fucking problem."

"What's that?"

"You come into my shop, my place of business every Wednsday and Friday, and sometimes every other Sunday2 ordering the fucking 'scotch rock' every time for the past year now."

"Sometimes you go with what's best."

"Yeah, I guess I hear that shit." Charlie poured the drink. "So, got a new job I hear?"

"You know I'm not allowed to talk about that."

"Yeah, yeah. Procedures and shit like that. I did hear though, that you have a new partner, Mister Lone Wolf, you!"

"Yeah, shut up!"

"You get a double, on me." He poured a second glass. "So, tell me about her."

"Charlie, you ever seen a Mobian before?"

"Mobian? Oh those furry things! Yeah, I had a couple."

"Well, my new partner is a brown fox. Black hair, long legs, bushy tail..."

"Her? That chick..." He snapped his fingers trying to remember. "Samantha! That's her name! I have to admit...she's hot, man!"

"Whatever you say."

"What, you don't think so?"

"Well..."

"Ask yourself these three questions then. 1: Is she hot? Answer truthfully."

"Well...I found myself staring at her if that's what you're saying"

"OK. 2: would you sleep with her?"

"Fuck no."

"3: Are you gay?"

"Shut the fuck up!"

Charlie giggled heavily. "Too easy, man! Too easy! Personally, I'd give her a looksee."

"Charlie, she's not even human!"

"She has two eyes, two ears, two tits, and one fine ass, she's alright with me."

"Well, wish you luck, my friend!" He raised his glass in mock toast.

"Well, at least let me ask you a question, white boy."

"Yeah? Fire away."

"You think you're at least gonna get along with this chick?"

"I don't know. I mean, I don't think so. Truth be told, Charlie? I'm expecting a god damned trainwreck." He drained his glass and set it on the table.