William II
The world seemed to roar as the deafening howl of the aircraft's originium engines kicked up sand and dust into the air.
Broken Hill was buzzing with activity, men and women rushing around the aircraft like flies as they prepared for departure. Prospectors were off-loaded, along with new managers and supervisors for the Broken Hill mines, while crates of originium samples were loaded on. Then, the main purpose of all this hassle revealed itself.
A squad of six operators in hazmat suits emerged from the depths of the mineshaft, carrying between them a massive steel box - more like a coffin - containing the new isotope of originium in its unbroken form. The box was specially crafted, with thick, completely insulated walls while the inside was a vacuum - to ensure the highly volatile originium would not react with anything, nor be damaged even if the airship was to make a crash landing.
The operators' hazmat suits were also specially-made to be non-reactive with originium, with heavy silver-gold alloy braces and gloves. When they reached the aircraft, another metal casket of platinum awaited them - and they lowered the box into it, before sealing it tight. A hiss was heard as the air was pumped out of the casket. Then, using a system of pulleys, they raised the heavy container onto the aircraft.
"Inspector," he heard Manager Elliot say, "What shall we do with your rig?"
"You can intern it here," he replied absentmindedly, "I'll write up some transfer papers so that Broken Hill receives custody."
"So you're all going back to Steel Robot?"
"Aye, all four of us," he nodded, "The higher-ups want McCulloch as well, so he'll be joining us."
There was a brief silence, the roars of originium engines fading into the background as they watched the proceeding in front of them.
"I can't say I envy you, mate," Elliot finally said, "If that vein of originium is the real deal… every nation on Terra will want their hands on it."
"I know, man… I know," William sighed, "I want to say that our security is second-to-none, but…"
Elliot nodded sympathetically, patting him on the shoulder, "Let me guess, the Empire?"
"Aye… Victoria's been hogging our steps for years now, ever since Eureka."
"Can't say I know much about it."
William crossed his arms, snorting, "Ever since the Cage Incident, they've been feuding with us over mining rights in the northwestern territories. I fear they have infiltrated our hierarchy in order to access our mining technologies and well… plans."
"Bloody imperialists."
"Could be worse," he barked a laugh, "Let's just thank our stars that Victoria isn't Ursus."
"Woah sir, don't jinx it," Elliot chuckled, "With all that shit boiling over in the Empire, the next emperor might be a Vladimir Ivanovich, who the hell knows right now. Feels like anyone can be Emperor of Victoria these days."
"Unless the Parliament does something really fucking stupid, the next emperor will probably be one of those conservative nobles, which I think we are all hoping for. We are good at dealing with those."
"I bet the Union's gonna twist their arm, maybe put a republican on the throne."
"Truly," William muttered, "Anyone could be emperor these days."
Wilson caught his eye, his assistant was leaning out of the aircraft's sliding door, waving at him. The inspector broke out of his reverie, glancing around and noticing that the preparations had been completed, Arthur and Charle having just boarded the aircraft. It appeared he was the only one left.
"Well, it was a pleasure Mister Elliot."
"Likewise, inspector."
With that, William stepped towards the aircraft - capturing Wilson's outstretched hands and pulling himself onto the rig. As the doors closed behind him, he scanned the interior of the aircraft - a tight fit. There were several seats built onto the walls of the aircraft, to which he sat down on one - finding McCulloch sitting opposite him. As he strapped himself in, William noticed the casket at the rear of the ship, strapped in the cargo hold along with all the other originium and rock samples.
"Everyone strapped in?" a voice - the pilot's - spoke through the intercoms, "Great, lifting off. Steel Robot's just a days flight away, currently running north of Pinto Valley."
"Steel Robot's on the move?" Charles muttered, "Don't tell me-"
"There haven't been any Catastrophe warnings released by the C.C. System," Wilson interrupted, consulting his tablet, "I doubt it's a Catastrophe."
One of the guards spoke up, "They're joining up with Iron Fist, both cities are gonna dock at Musterpoint."
"Oh," Wilson leaned back, "Ore transfer?"
"Yeah," the guard nodded, "Pretty sure the stores at Iron Fist are filled to the brim, so they're mass transferring it all to Steel Robot for refinement."
As the conversation continued, William tuned it out as he gazed out of the portholes - watching as the barrenlands passed beneath them, mighty plateaus nothing more than slabs from such a height. Granted, they were on a low-altitude aircraft, and some bluffs were too tall for them to clear - forcing them to weave around through recognised valleys and airways.
It was incredible to think that this vast inhospitable wasteland has been all traversed before - mostly by the great fleet of prospecting landships that Rim Billiton boasted. They regularly sweeped over the land with their powerful sensors, illuminating every possible node for originium mining. And the cities - Steel Robot, Iron Fist, all of them were essentially gargantuan factories, refineries and foundries - each city with their own purpose and place in the corporate system.
Together, every cog in the system - from the barrenlands to the nomadic cities - all of it formed what was Rim Billiton, the largest, most powerful corporation on Terra. Blood and sweat was the foundation of their society, originium was what sustained it. As William watched as the desolate, bountiful lands of Rim Billiton passed under him, he couldn't help but feel proud of his nation.
A group of enterprising cautus with a single mine - into an international powerhouse capable of building their own nomadic cities. It was proof that the Ancients didn't need Elders, or Deities, to carve their mark upon the world.
"You alright, sir?"
"Hmm?" William swivelled around to see Wilson staring at him worriedly, "I'm quite fine, thank you."
"...Something wrong with your hand?"
"My hand…?"
He looked down to see his left hand scratching the back of his right, so much so that the skin was red and inflamed, pinpricks of blood leaking out. William slowly withdrew his left hand, before placing his right hand by his side, away from everyone's - and his own - view.
"Must be a rash," he murmured.
"You'll need to check that out, boss," Arthur grunted.
"Aye, I will once we arrive."
"Boss, wake up!"
Someone was shaking him… hmm?
William groggily opened his eyes, rubbing away the crusted wax. Blinking blearily, he slowly took in the dreary grey insides of the aircraft as his brain roused itself from slumber.
"Arrived?" he half-asked, groaning as he stretched his limbs.
"Aye, we've arrived."
William craned his head to the side, twisting his neck as he made to stare out the porthole behind him. He found nothing but sand and dirt, the cloudless blue sky and endless horizon interrupted by rising mountains in the distance. But as his mental faculties gathered itself together, he realised that there was a rumble.
A low roar at the back of his ears and a tingling sensation on his skin - as if the very air was vibrating.
He could hear - he could feel - the nomadic city before he saw it.
Then, as if a desert mirage was shattered, he could see it. The city of Steel Robot appeared from seemingly nowhere, its dirt covered body camouflaging it with the earth. Like most nomadic cities, Steel Robot was built atop a vast rectangular mobile platform - large enough that its caterpillar tracks could flatten entire hills beneath it, capable of running over rivers as if they were streams and lakes as if they were puddles. It filled his entire view, commanded his sight, the once boundless desert suddenly encompassed by urban streets.
Carrying the weight of the city were twenty-five sets of continuous tracks beneath the city arranged in a five-by-five manner, classifying it as Class C city. Driving the colossal beast was its powerful originium reactor built in the core of the city - right below the control tower, a gargantuan structure that rose from the centre of the city, like a lance piercing the sky. Around the control tower were four monolithic smokestacks, each pumping out enough smoke to blacken the sky.
Steel Robot was split into three sectors, clearly denoted and visible from the air. At the rear half of the city was the industrial sector, defined by its many refineries and grimy, soot-covered streets, hundreds of smokestacks belching gases into the air which trailed behind the city like a filthy black carpet. The front half of the city was split into two, the residential sector and the administrative sector. Running between the two blocks was a mammoth highway visible from the sky, which ran from the docking port all the way to the industrial sector.
Four walls surrounded the city on each side, with large gates and clamps on each side for city-city docking - each with folded ramps large enough to reach the earth. The walls were once painted bright yellow, though long years from traversing the barrenlands have rendered them bleached by sandstorms, or just covered with dust. Considering the walls stacked upon the foundation, the basic structure of the city alone was taller than any mountain in the region.
The aircraft descended - and for a moment they were blinded by the layer of soot and smoke above the city, so heavy and thick William daresay he could hear it thumping against the aircraft's hull. After clearing the smoke, they had to punch through the sandstorm kicked up by the city's tracks - and for a teeth-clenching moment the aircraft rattled and shook through the turbulence.
After clearing the sandstorm, they entered the airspace right above the city, skimming right above the skyline towards the central tower.
"We are on the final approach for landing," the pilot spoke through the intercoms, "Stay seated and fastened."
Descending, they approached the hangars at the base of the command tower - two heavy metal sliding doors groaning as they revealed the hangar's brightly lit interior. A testament to the pilot's skill, the aircraft smoothly slipped right through the still-opening hangar doors with nary a pause. A blink later, and they had landed inside.
The red lights in the cabin turned green, and the passengers swiftly unfastened themselves and stood up to stretch. The sliding doors at both sides of the hull opened, revealing workers on the other side.
As William hopped off the aircraft, the workers rushed in, swiftly pushing the crates to the edge for awaiting forklifts. He noticed some men fiddling with the casket, and the next moment two sleds popped out of the bottom of the container, allowing them to push the crate over to the edge - where another worker had brought up an incline for the container to slide down onto the hangar ground.
"Inspector Jamieson!" a voice cut through the hubbub.
Swivelling around, William turned to see Director Carmichael pushing his way through the buzzing crowd, a tablet in his hands.
"Director!" William grinned, "It is good to see you!"
"Just Carmichael, mate," they shook hands, "Has it been so long that we are no longer friends?"
"Nah, man," William waved him off, "Just messin' with ya. I suspect I'm in for a debrief?"
"Right in one," Carmichael leaned over to peek over his shoulder, sighting his companions behind him, "Wilson, good to see ya! And Charles, Arthur."
The director nodded to the men behind him, before readdressing him.
"They don't need to be present."
William nodded, turning around, "All of you get screened, then get some lunch."
"Aye, we'll do just that, boss."
He and Carmichael watched as the three men departed, then lingered around in silence some more as the casket containing the vein of originium was darted off to the labs surrounded by armed guards.
"Mate," William murmured lowly, "I'm gonna need a check-up, blood testing and everything."
The director's eyes sharpened, his easy-going smile fading as he took in the gravity of William's tone. Nodding shallowly, the man started walking off to one of the double doors, beckoning him to follow. Walking down the bright, white-painted hallways, William took the chance to glance around - spotting many familiar features present in all Rim Billiton made nomadic cities.
Thankfully, considering the manner of work they were involved in, the medical rooms were very close by. Carmichael opened a thick door, and William nodded his thanks as he slipped into a cold, dim room. Carmichael entered the room after him and closed the door behind himself.
William slowly took in the chamber - the lights were dim, and the walls were blinding white. In the centre there was a single bed, a large machine with multiple limbs hanging from the ceiling above it.
"Hmm?" someone called from behind a curtain, "Visitors?"
A hand pushed the dividing screen away, revealing a tall perro woman in a white coat. Her skin was dangerously pale, he daresay as white as the walls themselves, though her hair was ebony black. Despite having been on Steel Robot several times, he did not recognise her - a good thing, he supposed, he never had to visit a facility such as this until now.
"What's wrong with you?"
"I need a full check-up for oripathy," William quickly said.
The doctor pursed her lips, pinching the bottom lip with two fingers - strange tick to be sure, but he wasn't one to judge. She looked about to dismiss them, until her eyes were drawn to the badge on his lapels - an indicator of his status as inspector. Finally, after a moment of musing, the doctor sighed.
"Undress and step inside that chamber," she pointed at a tall, metal box with a single thick glass window at eye level.
It was a full body scanner for originium crystals under or on the surface for his skin. It wouldn't be his first time stepping into one - most medical facilities had them nowadays, at least in Rim Billiton. They used to check manually with an eye, but technology is always advancing.
William swiftly stepped behind a curtain and stripped down to his underclothes, before stepping into the metal chamber, shrugging as he wiggled his arms. The doctor bundled up his clothes and placed them on a shelf, before shutting the heavy metal door - which slammed closed with a resounding thud, followed by a series of clicks.
He suddenly felt slightly claustrophobic, the darkness engulfing him. The only source of light was the single window at his eyes - though the glass was far too thick to see out of it clearly, leaving only a blurry image. A series of red lights hummed to life, and a laser began running up and down his body, whirring as the waves penetrated the first layers of his skin.
The back of his right hand started itching, and William didn't dare move - not even look at it. The itching sensation began to travel up his forearm, as if there was something crawling up the insides of his arms - on his bones, through his bloodstreams. He swallowed thickly, sweat running down his temples as that gods-forsaken whirring noise jumbled his nerves even further.
He took a deep breath to calm himself down, thinking logically. Oripathy was no stranger to Rim Billitonians, in fact Rim Billiton hosts the largest amount of Infected on Terra, due to obvious reasons. Rim Billiton did not persecute the Infected like Victoria, or Ursus - no, everyone's the same under the law, as long as you could work you were welcome.
He most certainly wouldn't lose his job over this.
The chamber door hissed, before swinging open. William stumbled out of the scanner, wiping away the sweat from his face before hastily grabbing his effects and dressing himself.
"Well," Carmichael asked, "What are the results?"
William froze, holding his breath as his heart pounded in his chest.
"No originium crystals found on the surface or under the skin," the doctor drawled, "Confirming no infection."
"What…?" William breathed to himself, too lightly for them to hear.
"Looks like you're just paranoid, mate," Carmichael snorted.
He hesitantly looked down to his right arm, flipping his hand over - and found nothing but unblemished skin.
"Can I take a blood test?" he asked, hoping against hope.
"Seriously?" the doctor asked, "I haven't met someone so eager to have oripathy before."
"Just…" he choked on his saliva, "Just do it."
"...Fine," she threw her hands in the air, "Sit down on the bed, will ya?"
"Right, thank you."
As he gingerly sat on the bed, shifting in anxiety as the doctor seemed to take forever putting on latex gloves. Carmichael crossed his arms and looked down, shaking his head in some manner of exasperation. William leaned back, taking long breaths to calm his nerves.
He was just making sure, that's all. He wasn't infected, he was just making sure. Yes, It did not hurt to be careful.
The doctor took out a wickedly long syringe, inspecting the tip, before approaching him.
"Right arm," she ordered, "Upside, squeeze your fist."
He did so, and the doctor dabbed a spot on his arm with disinfectant, before slowly pushing in the needle. William felt the sting as the metal pierced his skin, and the blood began to be drawn. After the syringe had reached its full capacity, she withdrew it and wiped away the needle before taping a cotton piece to the hole in his skin.
"Alright," she said, "Both of you bugger off, it'll take a few days for me to process this and get the results."
"Thank you, doctor."
William stood up - before immediately stumbling, only being saved from falling over by Carmichael's quick reflexes.
"Woah there buddy," the director chuckled as he pushed him back up, "Feeling light-headed?"
"Y-Yeah," William gasped, "Let's go."
They left the medical quarters together, walking down the hallway towards the elevator lobby. William hid his discomfort, walking upright with a measured smile on his face, nodding his greetings to anyone walking past. Thankfully, after Carmichael pressed the button, the elevator came quickly.
Right after he slipped through the elevator's still opening doors, he immediately leaned against the walls, breathing noisily. William wiped the sweat from his brow, before gripping his right arm in anxiousness, pressing down on the cotton bud which stemmed his wound.
Carmichael entered more leisurely, pressing the button to the floor they were due for.
"Feeling anxious?" he asked, just as the elevator lurched upwards, "Don't be, the doctor already said that you aren't infected. That machine was state-of-the-art, y'know?"
"Just…" William weakly said, "Just a bad feeling is all, doesn't hurt to be sure."
"Hey man," the director patted his shoulder comfortingly, "You've worked in this sector for how long now? A decade? You haven't contracted oripathy despite having one of the most dangerous jobs here, so why now?"
"Yeah… yeah, you're right," he forced out a smile, "Thanks for that."
"No problem," Carmichael laughed, "That's what friends do."
Author's Note:
No, William is not the main character - the originium is.
Fun Fact: Savage and April hail from Steel Robot. Ansel hails from Iron Fist. [Rewinding Breeze]
