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Khamkamuk Rok
BOOM!
The street vibrated. The old stone walls of the buildings trembled and cracked. A billowing plume of atomized brick and mortar ballooned out into the road, pooling into the alleys as it settled out like fog.
Mardura stumbled, regained his footing. Gramel tackled him, knocking the both of them to the ground as a hailstorm of blasterfire whizzed over their heads. Fragments of melted rock pinged off the still flickering glass of the formerly illuminated sidewalk. Torn wires sparkled like stars in cavities that had been rent periodically along the street.
Gramel clambered into a crouched position behind an overturned, burned out husk of a speeder, his hand still on Mardura's back as Rordant and the Imperial knelt in the dust and rubble next to him and returned fire. Three of the opposing army fell before another storm of searing plasma was unleashed on their position.
"Thanks," the cyborg grunted, though his words were lost in the fray, drowned out by the staccato of gunfire and shouting. A dull, distant 'thud' caused the few remaining windows to rattle and shake in their frames. Their trembling surfaces, where they weren't smudged with dirt or ash, caught the glimmer of emerald fire leaping and sizzling through the air. Rordant's whole body was a coiled spring as he crouched on the ruined pavement next to the others, blaster held close and pointed at the sky as he balanced on the balls of his feet, ready to either leap up or roll out of the way at a moment's notice. One eye watched the reflections, using them to gauge his opponents' movements without exposing his position, while the other kept a vigil on the alley across the street. Every few seconds, he'd swivel his head briefly, scanning the surrounding ingresses and egresses as he scouted for new arrivals.
Several bodies lay scattered on the street, with evidence of a few more poking out from under the rubble of a caved in building. Pedestrians caught in the explosion or killed by the squads now roaming the streets. A handful of offworlders, perhaps, but it didn't appear that either the local military or the Imperial garrison had managed to reach this area yet.
"Son of a Hutt!" Gramel cursed, pulling back in an awkward half dive as a line of blaster fire pinged above him, detaching a strip of shrapnel from the burnt out speeder where his head had been moments before and sending it careening into the road. "These four arms don't play around! Runnin' low on ammo here, Chief," this last comment was directed at Rordant, who merely grunted in response as he eyed the spot where the former had dispatched a couple of shooters.
"We're not going to be able to outgun them," Mardura insisted. His face was drawn, pale, and streaked with sweat. His remaining organic eye was blown wide with terror, though his jaw was set, and his teeth were clenched. The glowing, cybernetic implant that had replaced the other eye continued to roam frenetically about the street as he twitched at every sudden movement. "We need to go!"
As he spoke, a streak of green plasma whooshed past their makeshift cover, striking the last of the offworlders attempting to flee by the main street. His body jerked like a ragdoll, the shot catching him midturn as the blaster he'd raised in last minute self defense went flying from his hand. It skittered across the pavement, disappearing soundlessly into the dark hole of a gutter. The man crumpled like so much paper.
Mardura gaped, opening and closing his mouth in quick succession. His eye widened impossibly further, his lips pressing tightly together in a thin, trembling line.
There was nowhere to go.
They were trapped.
How did it all gone so wrong?
They'd made it past several streets and city squares before encountering any resistance. Then all at once the flood gates had broken apart, unleashing an unimagined horde upon them. Quicker than thinking, the shooters had stormed the streets and alleys they'd recently traversed, blocking off any hope of backtracking the way they'd come. At the same time, every alternative route Rordant could think of around the hornet's nest failed him in some way, either blocked off by rubble or tanks or gunmen, or else so clogged with civilians trying (and failing) to flee that movement was all but impossible.
Right now they were hunkered down behind the twisted remains of a speeder lying about a third of the way across the road, relying on the last of their ammunition to keep the approaching army from swarming their position and praying no one else joined them from the other side of the thoroughfare.
No way forward, and no way back.
"Down to half a clip!" Gramel chimed. His voice rang jovially, but it was underlaid with tension, like a wire about to snap.
"I can see that farm boy," Rordant growled, picking off one of the soldiers who'd attempted to advance on their location. His kill was followed shortly thereafter by two more, one from the Imperial and one from Gramel. The mercenary's eyes darted quickly between the soldiers and the entrance to the alley they needed to reach, mentally calculating the time it would take to make it the remaining fifteen or so meters to the other side.
One or two of them might survive the sprint if they were quick enough. The distance wasn't anything to sneeze at, but the road was lined with rubble to use as cover, the air still thick and clogged with dust and soot. It was probably the only reason they hadn't been picked off yet. If they could create a suitable distraction...
"The sewers are closer."
Boom
Rattle
Dust and ash swarmed his vision, stinging his eyes like tiny embers burrowing into his skull. Wiping away tears and coughing up a lungful of what would probably kill him if he survived this mess, he squinted at the Imperial. "Where?"
"Over by there. The manhole cover ten meters down and to the right,"
"I see it," he grunted affirmatively.
He didn't like it, though. He'd memorized every map of Khamkamuk Rok he could get his hands on before their ship had gotten anywhere near the star system. Built on a spiderweb of ancient tunnels and more recently constructed sewers, it was a damned miracle of engineering the city hadn't collapsed into the depths of the earth millennia ago.
The maps also subtly disagreed with each other.
Rordant didn't know if that was due to shoddy record keeping, xenophobic government intervention, or some bullshit of the Imperials, but he'd decided to keep his mouth shut about it. What did it matter if their intel on Khamkamuk's underground was a little misleading? He didn't have a hankering to go exploring... And honestly? A city this old? He'd expected much worse.
The patterning of the errors though...that was what had thrown him. It'd seemed...No. Probably just the result of organic error.
Sure.
That was it.
Misalign one thing, screw up the rest, right? A couple of missing tunnels...mismarked chambers...What was that old joke about land surveyors?
Get three of them together and they'll give you four different reference points for the start of something?
He didn't care.
The gig paid well, and it wasn't like they were planning on spending much time in the city proper anyway. One, maybe two days, and then they'd be permanently camped out on site, and that data was consistent.
He could have kicked himself for getting soft on these damn contracts.
"Outta ammo, Chief," Gramel looked at him solemnly, his green eyes wide. Mardura looked halfway to hell beside him, pale as a corpse and covered in sweat. His lip trembled as he bit down on it so hard that blood started to seep out from between his teeth. His body was tense, jerky, and Rordant knew if he didn't make a decision soon the man would book it down the street.
Rordant couldn't say he blamed him, but he'd been charged with keeping these people alive, and he aimed to do so.
Reaching over, Rordant tapped Mardura on the shoulder. The cyborg jerked slightly as he swiveled to look at him. Raising his hand, Rordant pointed out the manhole to him and Gramel. "Manhole down the way. Ten meters. On my mark, and keep low. That lid's gonna be heavy, so nobody better die before we get..."
FWWOOOSH
BOOM
Rordant's body was moving before he became consciously aware of the fact, sprinting dead out and then diving forward to put space between himself and the inferno exploding behind him. It caught him anyway, and suddenly the earth became the sky and the sky became the earth.
And over and over and over again the two swapped position as he tumbled through space like a ragdoll tossed across broken glass and rubble.
Someone was pulling him.
He didn't know how long he'd been lying there, staring at the pooling smoke that blotted out the sun above him when a head of blonde hair filled his vision, but suddenly a pair of arms was pulling him roughly forward. Rordant swung out wildly, his fist connecting with someone's jaw. A solid 'crack' and the sound of cursing as he finally registered Gramel's glaring face.
"Son of a Hutt, Chief! Save it for the four arm bastards, why dontcha?"
"Announce yourself next time, farm boy," the merc grunted, spitting out blood. He tried, with Gramel's help, to hobble to his feet, only to collapse in a whirlwind of sharp, stabbing pain. It radiated up through his leg and hip, the former of which seemed to crumple underneath him like a bag of loose sticks.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Gramel was half supporting, half dragging him as the mercenary fought to stumble forward with his fractured leg. Through the haze, he spotted the Imperial and the cyborg sprinting ahead of them towards the manhole. Rordant could hear shouting behind him as the soldiers began to pour onto the street, fighting through the fog of smoke and ash as blaster fire crackled and sparked like lightning in the gloom.
"Go, go! Go on!" Gramel hissed, jerking his head sharply at the pair who'd paused to look back their way. He didn't dare move his arms from the man he was carrying. Rordant dimly realized the youth had dropped his blaster somewhere along the way, not that it would have done him much good with no ammo. In the back of his mind, he wondered where his own weapon had gone. As far as he knew, he had only the vibro knife still strapped to the side of his good leg. The band was cutting uncomfortably into his skin as he strained forward, placing all his weight on his sole reliable limb.
The cyborg hesitated, eye darting wildly between the pair of them and the approaching storm spilling up the street behind them. He and the Imperial were crouched low, half hidden behind a chunk of building that had fallen near the manhole, but the rubble would provide little shelter from the soldiers. He licked his lips nervously, looking torn by indecision.
A blaster bolt striking like a snake out of the darkness and nearly piercing his skull made the decision for him. Throwing himself forward, he scrabbled at the heavy metal plating concealing the tunnel that would take him to salvation.
"Screw this!" he hissed. Staggering backward, he glanced around wildly as he sought for something to help him pry the cover loose. His tool of choice ended up being a shred of durasteel that looked like it had originated on the frame of a speeder. Jamming it roughly into the gap between the cover and the edge of the hole, he shoved down with all his might. "Come on!" he hissed through gritted teeth. Built to withstand centuries of wear and tear in one of the busiest cities on the planet, the ancient metal plate normally required at least three men to move. Adrenaline, fear, and anger all combined together to shift it from its resting place. It settled onto the street with the noise of a resounding gong.
Mardura moved to the hole and peered into the darkness for a cursory second before grasping the corroded rungs tightly and swinging his whole body into the shaft. His foot slipped in his haste and he let out a strangled hiss of air as he scrambled to find purchase again. Moving only marginally slower, he began his descent, eager to put earth and stone between himself and those hunting him.
Gramel whistled. "Attaboy, Mardi...attaboy! He's got it, Chief. Mardi's got the plate up. We're almost there."
"Good. Now drop me like the useless sack of potatoes I am, and get the hell outta here before you get shot," Rordant wheezed. His lungs burned from the ash and the act of inhaling his cries of pain every time he took a step. Gramel's sweat soaked arm pressed uncomfortably into his torso from how tightly the other man was squeezing him, his other hand keeping one of the merc's own limbs wrapped around his shoulders as the duo stumbled into the haze. The farmboy was a couple inches taller than him though, and Rordant's arm was beginning to throb in time to the pain shooting through his leg as it felt like it was being wrenched from its socket.
"Not gonna do that, Chief," Gramel replied seriously, his eyes never leaving the goal ahead. Mardura had paused, shooting them one last look before the top of his head disappeared into the depths of the earth.
"Wasn't giving you an option, farm boy," Rordant drew in a deep breath, bracing himself with his good foot, and pushed as hard as he could in Gramel's direction.
He almost hadn't noticed the subtle shift of movement in the alley. Gramel certainly hadn't, but then, Rordant had been in a better position to see the gunman crouched in the darkness, leveling his rifle on the younger man.
His push caused the youth to stumble backwards as Rordant himself pivoted ungracefully on his one working leg. Instinctively, his arms shot out to try to reestablish some semblance of balance, but it was no use. Another sharp pain, little more than a tickle by comparison, shot through his remaining limb as his ankle twisted, and then he was falling through empty space as scarlet stars glittered in his eyes.
Thud
Thud
Thud
"Why did you do that? Ti'n dwp...Help me," having violently impacted the ground a few too many times in the past half hour, it took Rordant a second to realize the Imperial woman wasn't speaking to him as she worked to pull him to something approaching a standing position. Between the two of them, she and Gramel managed to drag the mercenary to the yawning darkness signifying the descent into the depths of the city.
"Thank you kindly, miss," Gramel chirped cheerfully, as if there wasn't a host of alien soldiers currently storming the street towards their location. "Glad you saw that four arm. Me and the Chief here done run all outta ammo."
"Yeah? So have I now," the Imperial replied flatly as the three of them peered into the manhole.
"Any more bright ideas, you freedom crushing tyrant?" Rordant grumbled in the woman's direction.
"Now, Chief..."
"We could push you in. Wouldn't surprise me if the ladder's rusted through somewhere. We might have to jump," pale blue eyes lifted from the darkness to meet his own. "I'd suggest using your arms and going between us in case you fall."
"Let's get on with it then," he'd neither seen nor heard Mardura since they'd drawn near the opening. Rordant couldn't help but wonder just how far down the tunnel stretched. There was no way they'd be able to pull the cover back into place, so it wouldn't take much for the soldiers to discover where they'd gone, if the clamor the blasted cover had made hadn't tipped them off.
"I'll go first, Chief," Gramel already had one foot on the rungs. "I'm more liable to catch you if you fall."
"Probably best if you don't fall," the Imperial added.
Rordant snorted. "Right. Hurry up, Gramel."
"This way. Move quickly please."
Baara is reminded of the myriad avian species native to the planet as, like flocks of colorful birds preparing to take flight, the rustling of hundreds of ceremonial robes and shoes scraping on rock greets them upon their entrance to the central atrium. Residents of the city, both religious and governmental in capacity are scrambling to organize, herded along by security personnel attached to the building. Sovann's own guard had joined them briefly before the man had dismissed them to assist in general security, much to the distaste of the team's leader.
They don't linger long in this exposed space, making use of it only for its convenience in locating the start of a series of side passages that Baara quickly lost track of as the small group delved deeper into the complex than they'd ever before been permitted to venture before. She couldn't tell if the other humans were as befuddled by the esoteric layout as she was, but she took comfort in the fact that Sovann, at least, seemed at ease in his surroundings.
Gradually enough that she played it off as a trick of her mind, Baara began to pick up the faint odor of burning.
"Do you smell that?" she muttered under her breath to Dargla.
"It's the public atrium; I suspect Etan's men have breached the doors," Sovann didn't turn his head or slacken his pace. Baara was surprised he could hear her from the several paces that separated them. She'd had enough trouble keeping up with his longer stride. "It's not quite above us, but nearby. Some of the older ventilation shafts funnel air from that area. I suspect you're smelling the tapestries."
"My god..." Witwar moaned. "Some of those are over a thousand years old."
"Yes, well, there's a reason the older relics are kept in the inner chambers," Sovann replied stoically.
"Why would he burn a temple, specifically this temple?" Dargla shook his head. "Over politics..."
"Your failure is a lack of understanding, Aarmas Dargla."
Dargla glanced at Baara, raising an eyebrow and mouthing 'Bloody hell does that mean?'
Baara shrugged noncommittally. She wasn't any clearer on the reason than Dargla himself, and she was beginning to think she probably wasn't in a position to speculate.
Why though? How did we miss all of...this?
"Sovann!"
"Oh, bloody fucking hell...not you again..." Holberi swore violently under her breath, drawing a sharp, startled look from Witwar beside whom she was walking most closely. Hunching her shoulders over, she seemed to want to shrink into herself as another of the Vitheon, a female, appeared from a side branch connecting to the passageway they were currently traversing.
"Mavakdol Kedma, you should be following the others to safety," Sovann inclined his head slightly in respect as he spoke. Kedma, the equivalent of the planet's Minister of Agriculture, slowed her pace as she drew level with them. Age was difficult to discern among the Vitheon, but Baara was given to understand that the lightening of her formerly dark purple locks indicated advancing age in the severe woman.
"So should you," she replied flatly. Shimmering pupiless eyes skimmed briefly and inconsequentially across the small huddle of humans, before returning to Sovann. One would think the foreigners on her planet were items of furniture rather than organic beings for all the thought she seemed to spare them. "Instead, I find you down here, wandering. Where are you going, Sovann?"
"To my next manifestation, Mavakdol Kedma," Sovann replied with the humility and solemnity of a dutiful pupil reciting before the master.
"As are we all, Mavakdol Sovann," Kedma replied dryly. "But surely you plan to make stops along the way?"
"I'm afraid not. I'm in a bit of a hurry, you see, Mavakdol Kedma," as Sovann spoke, one of his four hands moved from where it had been concealed in a sleeve of his robe, revealing a blaster. "As you are not, I would suggest standing aside."
"Sovann, my god, man, what are you doing?" Witwar asked, appalled. The old man moved forward, as though he thought to stop whatever would occur, but Sovann held up a hand to stop him.
"Do not interfere, Gannleo Witwar. Now, Kedma, you really should be going. It isn't safe here. These passages aren't properly ventilated, you know."
"That must be the reason for your madness, Sovann," Kedma looked disgusted. "What exactly are you trying to accomplish here? Bringing these aliens here? Do you think I do not discern your destination?"
Sovann shook his head slowly, a look of regret passing across his face. "No, I believe you do. It is most unfortunate."
The blaster shot makes her jump and cover her ears.
Baara stared, stunned. Kedma's mouth had half opened as though to reply before abruptly closing with a snap. In a graceful lurch, her body crumpled forward and collapsed to the stone floor beneath her.
"What have you done?" Witwar breathed.
"She would have betrayed your location, Gannleo Witwar," Sovann replied, calm, cool. Rational. The Empire paid him little mind, but the few thoughts it gave him were certainly influenced by the man's demeanor.
Tucking the blaster once more into his robes, he added, "Come. We are wasting time, and we have a long way yet to go."
