Killers for Hire:

The Tale of Laurs the Mercenary

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The Black Crusades: Chapter Two

He felt like he was floating. It was dark, and he felt weightless and light-headed. His body slipped in and out of memories. It was pleasant. He felt content. He remembered leaving home at eighteen. He had vowed that he would get his parents off that freezing planet, where they scrapped a living raising tundra vax, a type of furry, lazy, meaty mammal. He remembered his friends in the Imperial Guard, his time spent in the 512th Cadian Orbital Defence Force. He fought in many battles against Chaos, who were trying to destroy Cadia, and against Eldar, in the Macharian Xeno Cleansing Campaign. He remembered his first ever kiss, with a girl he rescued on his first mercenary mission. She was the daughter of a multi-billionaire hive merchant, who had been kidnapped by a gang of money-obsessed anarchists on Minotaur III. She was so grateful… and so innocent, at barely seventeen. He felt no sexual feelings towards her, it was more a feeling of compassion to someone who needed him so much. In fact, Laurs realised he never had any lustful feelings for anyone in his life. The only thing he had valued was life, in all its forms. That was, until his home was almost robbed by violent bandits when he was in his early teens. His father had fought them off, but Laurs's only brother was killed by the bandit's sadistic leader. Seeing how people could act in such disgusting disregard for human life had demolished his sheltered world view irreparably. That was what convinced him to join the Imperial Guard. A chance to destroy all that evil in the galaxy, to do what he always thought was the greatest good. But the level of inhuman leadership decisions finally forced him to desert. He found Gol at the Mercenary Recruitment Centre on Tallarn, and their friendship just seemed to 'happen'. They started their own Combat Mercenary band, and gained nearly a 100 percent mission success rate. Laurs remembered the girl again. His thoughts kept jumping around. The haze, combined with the feeling of flying, was difficult to control, but kept him smiling inside.

He continued in this state for a while. He had no idea how long, but he felt it was a deserved rest. Why was it deserved? Oh yes, he remembered the Imperial Outpost. Shooting his fellow (although cowardly) team-mates, the vile killing machines of Chaos, the sudden and gruesome deaths of everyone around him. He started to shake. He scrunched up his fate, feeling sick. He started to murmur 'No' louder and louder, and thrash and shake. The enemy was still with him. It was not only outside, but it was in his soul. And having nothing to cling to in life, no beliefs, he thrashed at it for no good reason. He simply felt he wanted to. He screamed at the shape changing monster, lashing out. It took the appearance of his well formed face. It mimicked his screams mockingly, then grinned. Then it seemed to look around, realising that something was pulling him from this dream-like state. It turned back to him, and gripped onto him to keep him in this dark nightmare. Slowly, Laurs slipped from its grasp, and it laughed manically, knowing he would not be gone for long. The feeling of weight returned to Laurs, and the bright glare of lights filled his vision. A face was before him, a charming middle-aged woman, gently bringing him back to reality.

"How are you Laurs? Can you hear me?"

He nodded meekly, her warmly Low Gothic accent making his slow decent back to reality that much easier.

"I've given you some stim. You should be able to get up in a minute. Your hearing will be okay in a few days, the hammer bones are a bit strained. Try to avoid anything loud." She held his shoulder. Laurs managed to mutter a reply through his parched lips.

"Thank you Kieris. Now see to any other wounded we have…"

She nodded, giving him a smile and a friendly wink. Laurs smiled back. Kieris moved away to look after someone else with her medicine of kindness and soft vocals. Laurs moved his legs and arms a little, and then continued to rest.

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"Gol, how we doing?" Laurs strode into the command bridge with authority, admiring the professionalism of his crew. Gol turned from a maintenance panel in the centre-left of the room, and nearly saluted the Captain.

"Ha, very nearly got me that time Laurs. Yeh, we're doin' good. I suppose you remembered everything that happened at the outpost? Well, we're nearly back at Jucha, and we're going to contact Yves soon to tell him we have the history log. We suffered fifteen casualties at the outpost, so I recommend we get a few more men before we head over to Memphis E to deal with that Dark Eldar incursion. Could do with some night vision gear and trained snipers too." Laurs shifted a little at the door, and then moved next to Gol.

"They don't come cheap Gol, but if I know Eldar, then I guess we'll need them. Okay, you sort that out, try the Merc Recruitment Centre first, then go to Ingui if you're really desperate. He might have some low-life ex-gangers who can get the job done. Just… let's just get this job done first. One thing at a time…"

Gol nodded, and hit the video-vox dialler. The transmission bar filled up slowly, then the head of a wiry bald man in a Colonels uniform crackled onto the main screen at the centre of the room. Laurs stood in front of him, arms crossed and legs apart.

"Yves, we got your history slate. Had a run in with Cultists too, lost more than a dozen good soldiers to the crossfire. So, triple pay for me and my remaining crew?" Yves seemed to sway slightly on his feet, thinking.

"Yes. Fine. Just bring that data slate here quickly. My superiors are very anxious to get their analyst's to… analyse it." He blinked rapidly and licked his dry looking lips. Laurs was took aback a bit.

"Well… good. We'll be planet-side in a few hours. Meet you in your office. Have the credits ready." The screen flashed off. Gol stared at Laurs.

"Yes Gol, I know, I don't think he means to pay us. Didn't haggle, even a bit..."

"So what do we do?" Gol resumed to looking at the now powered-down main screen.

"Keep a fire team ready and concealed across the street from the good Colonel's office. If I don't come out of there ten minutes after entering, I want you to lead them in and get our damn pay. If I'm still alive, don't save me if it'll get more of our men killed. I'll escape on my own. Just get the pay, get to the ship, and wait for me." Gol simply kept his eyes on the empty screen and slowly nodded. His friendship was invaluable, Laurs realised. He didn't yet realise how priceless Gol was going to be over the next few weeks.

"So, how did I do?" Yves looked up from his video-vox screen, trembling a little before the Inquisitor. "I served the great God-Emperor of mankind to the best of my abilities; may I resume command of my regiment now, if you don't mind me inquiring?"

Inquisitor Venton glaced at his second in command, Psyker Lina, and then held his bolt pistol up to the Colonel's forehead.

"You have served the Emperor well, Colonel Yves of the 211th Mordian Iron Guard, and the time to take your place beside him is now at hand. You understand that this is for the security of our mission. Farewell comrade…" Yves was still pleading and sobbing when Venton squeezed the trigger. Lina wiped some blood splatter off her face, and then went to get the Inquisitor's aides from the foyer to clean the mess. Venton looked down at the ex-Colonel still sitting in his ornate chair, and then knelt beside him, closing his eyes with his bloodied hands.

"It was… for your own good…"

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Laurs's interstellar cruiser touched down in Jucha East Docks E63, and was almost immediately jumped upon by port servitors, eager to fix her up and refuel her. The exit ramp on the port side of the ship extended and hit the dock platform with an empty clang. Laurs, Gol, and twenty or so men thudded their way down the ramp, each footstep echoed by the wobbly shuddering of metal. Gol turned to Laurs.

"Ship should be ready to take off within an hour or so. No space combat this time, so repairs will be minor at best. I'll get Redo to re-arm the men at the weaponsmiths', and Kieris will look after the ship while we're away." Laurs smiled a little.

"Yes, thank you Gol. Feel free to take that tree out of your ass while you're here. You could use a rest after we get our pay. If there's no trouble with the collection, we'll go to the local sacra-bar for a few rounds..." Gol laughed.

"I think I'll need something stronger than sacra to get this metaphorical tree out of my hole, what with my physical build and all…" Gol rolled up his sleeves and showed off his flexing abs, which Laurs noticed had some strange tattoos on. They seemed to mark out power points on his body, and were still clear as day, even though it looked as if Gol was in his late 50's. But Laurs had more important things to ponder about than Gol's freaky body art. As usual, money was the big problem in his life. It wasn't that he coveted it; he simply needed it to live. Not that he had anything to live for…

Laurs and his team hired a skimmer-shuttle from a local machine-merchant, and headed to the northern part of the city. The wealthy part. Fifteen minutes of dodging other skimmers on the velocity tubes, and they were at the 211th Mordian Headquarters for local system. Laurs parked the skimmer, and Gol and the team crossed the street to a fine antiquities & relic shop. They proceeded to feign interest in the many works of art and no-doubt fake priceless religious relics, much to the annoyance of uptight shopkeeper, obviously having no interest in 'browsers'. Laurs wandered in through the large marble and crystal glass doorway of the HQ, registering his appearance with the scripture-clerk. A guardsman collected his weapons, and he was told to take the boost elevator to the 238th floor, where Colonel Yves was apparently waiting for him. After going up a dizzyingly high altitude, all alone in the large, empty, extravagantly designed lift, he finally reached the Colonels office. The lift doors hummed open, and he stepped into a foyer fit for a lord-king to wait in. The ceiling had holo-images of the Emperor in various heroic moments, followed by many devoted saints and holy soldiers. Lavish plants from as far away as Catachan lined the hallway, with a few richly varnished Jucha-wood seats, and accompanying tables, interspersing the brilliant flora and fauna. He paced down the hallway, trying not to feel out of place in such a disgustingly wealthy environment, and trying to make as little noise as possible with his hard vax-leather boots. The pair of polished hardwood doors opened up in front of him, and presented him with the most unnerving sight for any member of the Imperium of Man…

The legendary Inquisitor Lord Venton, plainly grinning, and an army of henchmen training a ton of hardware on Laurs's unarmed body.

Laurs slightly pissed himself.