"I do believe, Pack Leader, that this is what's colloquially referred to as a 'wrench in the gears'."
"Is that so?" Zertis lowered his set of binoculars just as he shot him a sceptical glance. "I was under the impression the proper name was thermonuclear war."
Scratching his lower jaw, Oktar let out an amused chuckle. "Well, if you want to put it that way… though you must agree with me, the sight is beautiful to behold."
He said nothing more after that, his full attention directed to the miniaturized console on his forearm, and Zertis didn't press him further. Oktar had the habit of doing that, cutting off a conversation out of the blue, and it took time getting used to the pathfinder's eccentric manners.
The constant roaring of engines somewhere above drew Zertis's attention back to the vast landing zone just below. A large dropship soared overhead, thrusters flaring to slow its fall into a controlled descent.
A bulky, inelegant vessel flying with the same grace of a warehouse with engines duct-taped to its bulkheads, such humble ships were nevertheless a core element within the Restorationist Expeditionary Fleet, tasked with ferrying Battle Packs in and out of a planetary area of operation, as well as carrying all the required supplies for a military campaign.
The landing gear unfolded as it touched down onto the tarmac, the main front-facing hatch swinging open and allowing the first detachment of Zertis's Battle Pack to disembark. His warriors marched down the ramp in well-arranged cohorts, weapons by their side and body-armour glistening under the sun, their battle-standards flying above their heads; they were soon followed by landing crews and supply vehicles. Though only a few hundred-strong, that was but the first transport of many yet to come.
Sighing to himself, Zertis eventually decided he had enough of the view, and handed over his binoculars to one of the aides waiting nearby. That was but a mundane operation, and he trusted his sub-commanders to carry out the disembarking procedure without him overseeing it. He stepped away from the balcony and returned inside, Oktar falling silently into steps behind.
The Palace of the Legislature on Markazia was old, and Zertis could almost feel the centuries of history permeating the place as they walked down its wide, marble-tiled corridors. The Markazian government used to be conveyed there, around a decade or so prior; now, it was the location of the Imperial Planetary HQ, the central hub from which the planet's occupation was overseen. Until now, of course.
"You do seem disgruntled, Pack Leader," Oktar noted nonchalantly. Zertis simply waved a clawed hand in dismissal.
"Nothing to worry about." He shook his head. "And here I thought space travel was unpleasant. It appears though that dimensional travel is even worse. At least my headaches have subsided now."
By his side, Oktar let out a soft chuckle. "True. I guess it takes time to grow comfortable with it. Still, it's something magnificent, is it not? To employ the same tech the Ancient Enemy possessed … though we are limited to reverse engineering, and a rather incomplete one at that if I might add, what we are witnessing here are but the seeds of greatness. Isn't that fascinating, Pack Leader?"
Zertis came to a sudden stop, before turning around and deliver a cold stare to his companion, both pairs of eyes narrowing. There wasn't much difference in height between the two, aside from the magenta-coloured feathers adorning Oktar's head.
"Fascinating, you say? Maybe once." He crossed both arms on his armoured chest-piece. "The first time I was introduced to the idea of countless dimensions I was, in fact, fascinated. That wonder has however already run its course; it seems that, no matter how different or strange dimensions may be, warfare remains the one thing they share above all."
Oktar dipped his head to one side. "That's an interesting point of view, Pack Leader." Zertis shrugged.
"No, that's just rambling from my part. Forget what I've said. Let's move now. Her Voice has spoken, and we have a war to win."
Without further pause or another word, the two Kartisians ventured deep within the Palace of the Legislature, Imperial warbots keeping their sensors on them all the while.
"Rivet, can I … can I ask you a question?" Kit began from the magnetized frame on the Lombax back.
"Sure. What's the matter?"
"Why are we here, exactly?"
Rivet thought about it for a moment, scratching her left ear as she did so. Then, a sudden grin tugged at her lips. "Oh, I know that! It's because Clatchky can't read a map if his life depended on it."
"I can still hear you, you know." He did not bother to look up as he answered, his single eye focused on the holographic map before him, projected by a tiny emitter embedded in his wristwatch.
"Good," she simply said, sticking her tongue out once she was sure he couldn't see her.
The three of them were walking down an old road; hard, dry soil crunched underfoot with each step. Some distance away laid a settlement of sorts, most of its buildings being grey, dome-shaped prefabricated structures, huddled together around some old wind turbines. Their blades spun around lazily in the calm breeze.
A pool of acid stretched out a few miles to their right, like as a small lake. The greenish and dangerous liquid glinted softly under the sunlight.
They could have brought their vehicles and the rest of the group with them, but Clatchky had insisted on just the three of them approaching the meeting point. The Markazians were not very welcoming towards off-worlders, especially these days. Though hesitant at first, Rivet had to admit it made sense, and traveling along the highways was problematic anyways, as they were clogged with a constant stream of refugees escaping from the fighting.
"Careful there, Rivet. Don't piss him off," Phantom snorted loudly a few feet by her side. "He's still gonna be our pilot on the way out."
"Oh, right." She glanced at Phantom. "So, which one of us makes sure he stays dry?" The Rilgarian snickered in response.
"That again? It happened only once. And besides, unlike someone here-" He purposedly glanced towards Rivet, "-I can hold my drinks alright. Or do we want to talk about that time at Zurkie's? What do you think, Rivet, should we bring that up again?"
Rivet narrowed her eyes at him. "You really had to twist the knife there, didn't you?"
"You started it. Now be quiet, I'm trying to triangulate our position."
Rivet glowered but kept herself from a comeback. The trio of rebels walked on for another minute or so in silence, the hamlet growing closer and closer with each moment. As they finally entered it, they noticed the closed doors and boarded-up windows on every home. The streets were completely deserted and not a soul was in sight. Everything around them was silent.
The only sound came from the towering wind turbines, squeaking with each blades' motion.
Rivet's ears twitched. It was unnerving. Even more unnerving however, was the impression that someone was observing them. And she swore that something had just shifted behind one of the windows.
Most would have written that off as the result of their mind playing tricks of them, or maybe just a baseless hunch. Rivet was however a resistance fighter with years of first-hand experience on her shoulders. Baseless hunches had saved her life more times she was comfortable with.
There were constant flashes far away into the distance, near the horizon. The faint booming of explosions came a few seconds later. Nothing nuclear, thankfully. The fungus-shaped clouds had dissipated some time before, and no more followed them. Hopefully those nutcases had run out of them.
"Place looks abandoned to me," Phantom finally said. "You sure we're in the right spot?"
Clatchky nodded, but double checked the holo-map just to be sure. "Yup. That's the place. The message said this was supposed to be some kind of haven for the local resistance."
Phantom shrugged. "Well, can Markazian turn invisible? Cause there's nobody here."
"Yeah, I know. Just … ah, just let me check again. Maybe I got something wrong. Maybe I misread the message. Give me a moment."
"Suit yourself. I needed to lay down for a minute anyway." As Clatchky busied himself with his map. Phantom took the opportunity to sit down and rest on the metal step of a nearby habitation hub.
Rivet decided to have a look around instead. She strained her ears as she tried to catch something, any sound from their surroundings. Nothing; not even a stray dog or a bird. Still, to know that her Tele-equipper was functioning perfectly was a small yet welcomed feeling.
Eventually Rivet came to a stop before another structure. This one looked abandoned too, just like the rest, and yet it was clearly different. Where the others were made up of polymers, that one was a low, one-floor structure built entirely of bleached bricks. An old sign hung from a post just above the entrance, but the wood had long since rotten away, rendering it unreadable.
A shop, perhaps? Stepping closer, Rivet tried to peer through the windows, squinting at the glass. No luck; the panes were caked in yellow dust and grit.
"Hey Kit, can you do a scan around and see if you catch something?"
"I can try, yes." She paused. "Rivet, about that question …"
"Uh? Oh, that one." Rivet shrugged. "I mean, that's easy. We're here to lend a hand to the Markazians and kick the Emperor's forces out of the planet. It's not that complex, really."
"I'm aware, but that's not entirely what I meant," the bot said. "Planets have been revolting and breaking away from Nefarious's Empire for weeks now, but that alone has never been enough to warrant our attention until now."
Rivet stopped in her tracks. She wrinkled her nose, then glanced back over her shoulder. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Well, it means we must have a really good reason to be here."
"Is the Emperor's Assistant a good enough reason?"
"Partially," Kit said. "I was wondering however why you seem so focused on her as of late."
Rivet shook her head. "Long story short, I've got some unfinished business with her. That's the only thing that matters."
"Ah. Uh, do you want to talk about it?"
Rivet opened her mouth for a moment, before thinking better of it and quickly shutting it close. Once again, she shook her head in an effort to clear her mind. "No offense, Kit, but this is not really the time. Perhaps later."
She glanced around, noticing that she had lost sight of her two friends as she walked. A part of her recognized that splitting up was definitely a bad idea and should probably get back to Clatchky and Phantom immediately.
"Why all these questions all of sudden?" she said instead.
"Oh, nothing. It's just, well…" Kit hesitated. "You do seem a bit tense as of late."
'So what if I am? That's none of your damned business.' Rivet bit on her tongue just in time, stopping herself from blurting out that answer. Where did all that anger come from anyway?
"I don't think I've noticed that. I feel like, well, like I usually do. More or less," she said, careful to maintain a more neutral tone. "Mind being more specific?"
"I noticed that during our brief vacation in Ratchet and Clank's dimension you were more … outgoing that usual. You looked happy, if I may say so."
Rivet did not answer immediately, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip. Her large ears flicked upward. She would have lied if she said the matter had not brushed her mind more than once before.
The last two weeks had been pleasant, she had to admit it. No Emperor breathing down on her neck; no more nights spent with an open eye for fear of a surprise raid; no more friends lost in a continuous and seemingly hopeless struggle.
It was strange to finally been able to let her guard down for once, and just kick back and relax. It had certainly felt weird the first few times.
A soft smile appeared on Rivet's face. Then again, not as weird as finally meeting another Lombax.
'Weird? Seriously, that's how you're gonna describe it? You like the guy, admit it.'
She shook her head. That did not matter at the moment. She was busy and so was Ratchet, probably. And she had a job here on Markazia.
"Rivet," she heard Kit began with some unease. "You and Ratchet are planning to visit the Lombax dimension, correct?"
She nodded, somewhat glad of the sudden change in subject. "Pretty much, yeah. Once we deal with any unfinished business, I guess."
"I was thinking … may I … may I come with you?"
Rivet hesitated for a moment, eyebrows furrowed, thinking hard. Her fluffy tail swayed behind. Did she want her to actually come along? She frowned.
Hold up a moment, what the hell was she thinking? Of course she wanted Kit to come, she was her partner. That was not something she should have even thought about in the first place!
'Alright Rivet, calm down. You clearly are on edge, that's all. This damned place is playing tricks on you. Stay calm, think it through, and everything will be fine.' She gritted her teeth, then shook her head a second time.
"Sure. Why not?"
"Thank you. It … it means a lot to me." Another moment of awkward silence. "Are you nervous? Of meeting them, I mean."
Rivet shrugged. "Kinda. I'm more interested on hearing why they left both of us behind in the first place though." She paused, smacking her lips. "On second thought, I think that I'll punch them in the face first, and then ask them why they did that," she said with a nervous chuckle.
If Kit had a comment on that, Rivet never heard it. She caught something lashing out from a nearby shadow through her right eye's corner. A hand-looking shape went for her throat like a blur.
However, Rivet was faster.
The Lombax's artificial arm went up in an instant, whacking the incoming attack off course. Wasting no time nor momentum, she struck back against her assailant. Rivet spun around and delivered a devastating spinning kick to his midsection.
Her ears caught a surprised grunt as he stumbled back. Thick robes covered much of his face and body, leaving only a pair of green eyes glaring at her.
He came at her a second time with a quick combination of punches. Rivet, her legs now apart in a combat form and a fierce scowl on her face, was again ready for him. She dodged the first strike, then a second, then lashed out with her prothesis to intercept a third. Flesh met metal, and metal won.
She heard a gasp of pain and knew that was her clue. Before he had a chance to recover, Rivet stepped inside his guard and trapped his right arm in a solid armlock. She spun around, used her own hip as a fulcrum, and flung him over her shoulder and into the air.
He landed hard on the ground a few feet away, a cloud of dust kicking up on impact. With a blur, her OmniHammer appeared in her hands, ready for the final strike.
And then Rivet stopped.
From where he laid, her assailant had a blaster aimed straight at her forehead. There was a moment of absolute calm as neither tried to move. They simply stared at each other, waiting for the other to make the first move. Rivet wondered briefly why he had not used that immediately instead of trying -and failing- to face her in hand-to-hand combat.
The answer came shortly after as the soft whirring of several laser rifles, powering up from behind her.
"Kit?"
"Yes?"
"I told you to run a scan on our surroundings, didn't I?"
A moment of silence. "Yes. Yes, you did."
"And did you do that?" Her voice was deceitfully calm as she and her assailant kept their gaze locked together.
"My apologies, Rivet," she said with some guilt. "I … I think I got side-tracked."
"No shit."
Rivet picked up the sound of footsteps and glanced tentatively around. She counted at least eight new assailants around her coming into view, all clad in similar robes to the first one and each keeping a laser gun steadily trained on her.
She briefly weighted her odds and didn't like them one bit. The fact that they had managed to creep up on her that silently spoke volumes of their discipline and skill.
"Drop it," came the muffled voice behind her.
If she needed further encouragement, the arrival of six more of them, together with Phantom and a very annoyed-looking Clatchky, both holding their hands up in the air, proved to be just that.
Shooting one last glare in the direction of the first one, who had climbed back to his feet in the meantime, she tossed her Omnihammer some distance away and took a few steps back. She held both hands up in surrender.
One of the gunmen dashed forward to scoop her weapon up, before moving back to his precedent position, weapon aimed at her all the way.
"Careful with that," Rivet deadpanned, "I'll want it back in a moment."
From the newcomers, one stepped forward. He was slightly taller than the rest, and Rivet caught the sight of a pair of point-shaped purple ears, poking out from the fabric hiding his face. Ceramic trauma-plates covered his legs and vambraces. From his appearance, Rivet guessed he was the leader of the group.
'Markazians, uh? Quite the welcoming party they threw for us.'
He stopped, took her Omnihammer from the hands of the other Markazian and examined it carefully in silence, his gloved hands checking every inch and crevices.
"Kit?" Rivet whispered as quietly as she could.
"Yes?"
"Get ready blast them when I give you the signal."
"Wait, what?" Kit blurted out, before remembering to keep her voice down. "Rivet, we … I can't do that! They're not warbots, they … they're just organics!"
"And? Maybe you haven't realized it, Kit, but they've got guns aimed at us. This is really not the time to have a conscience," she hissed through her teeth.
"Hey! You two!" One of the Markazians snapped. "What the hell are you talking about? Shut up before we blow a crater through your heads!"
As she noticed him approaching them with a furious and ugly scowl and a laser gun at the ready, Rivet felt her entire body tensing up in preparation. "Get ready, Kit. This will probably get ugly. Wait for my mark."
"Rivet wait, no-"
"Clatchky!"
Rivet nearly jumped right there out of her skin as the door behind her swung open with a loud bang. The Markazian that strode outside was tall and lean, his face completely lacking hair aside from a curling moustache. He sported an elegant, yet rather casual outfit consisting of a khaki-coloured overcoat with a rather flamboyant, vividly-coloured necktie. A pair of rounded glasses was perched up on his sharp nose.
"Clatchky!" He repeated, a toothy grin on his face. "There you are! What took you so long? We were waiting for your arrival last night!"
Clatchky tried to shrug while keeping at the same time his hands in the air. "Yeah, well, what can I say? We kinda got lost on the way here."
"Clearly you were." The Markazian let out a soft chuckle. "I just hope it wasn't due to some erroneous information I gave you. Things have been a little hectic as of late, as you … as you can probably … see …" He trailed off, eyes widening as he finally noticed Rivet standing nearby.
"By the Ancestors, Clatchky, you actually did it," he muttered.
To his credit, he managed to shake off the surprise rather quickly. He spent a moment dusting himself off, another to adjust his moustache, then he pressed his palms together.
"Right, where are my manners," he said, before quickly approaching Rivet and raising a hand to shake. "Miss Rivet, may I say this is a truly historical moment for me, and I'm well beyond honoured to make your acquaintance."
The Lombax shot him a confused, yet wary glance, before finally deciding to shake his hand. She maintained at least one of her own hand in the air; the Markazians were still keeping their guns trained on her after all.
"Right … uh, I don't think I know your name, mister …"
"Apogee. Professor Maximilian Apogee, chair of the history department at the Druzin University … well, when it was still open, that is. You can just call me Max, like some of my colleagues do."
"Right."
"Do you know these intruders?" the leader of the group asked, his voice coming muffled.
"Why, of course I do! Well, one of them, at least." He winked at Clatchky. "What's the matter? Are there any troubles?"
The leader hesitated for a moment, shooting Rivet one last suspicious glance before shaking his head, letting out something akin to a frustrated sigh.
"Not at all, professor. Just making sure. Standard procedure and all that." He tapped on a communicator secured to his wrist, activating it. "Bravo Team, stand down. False alarm."
As one, all gunmen around lowered their weapons. Clatchky and Phantom, after some initial hesitation, dropped their hands as well.
The leader spun the Omnihammer a couple times in his hand, as if to test it. He clearly had skill in handling a weapon, Rivet noted to herself, her eyes never leaving him. Then he finally looked up and, much to Rivet's astonishment, tossed it right back at her. She snapped it off the air easily enough.
The leader reached up with a gauntleted hand and begun removing the cloth hiding his face. As it came down, Rivet realized that her first impression had been wrong, for it was a she.
Her hair was brown and cut short. Her face was hard and with sharp features, but it still had a youthful air about it, broken only by an ugly plasma burn on her left cheek. A pair of hard green eyes gazed at her, silently.
All around, the gunmen dropped their robes and hoods as well, revealing the Markazians behind them. Most of them looked fairly young, with only a couple of grizzled-looking elders in the mix.
"Much better," Maximilian declared. "Now, why don't you guys come inside? My office is a bit cramped as of late, but it will make do for the time being. We have a lot to talk about, don't we?" Purposedly or not, his eyes wandered again towards Rivet for a moment, before he turned around and made a beeline for the stone-bricked building.
"I'll ready a few snacks in the meantime. We don't get often guests, after all."
Rivet watched him go for a while, before turning her attention back to Clatchky, who had taken the chance to join her.
"You're alright?" She asked him.
"Yeah, more or less." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Those bastards come out from nowhere. Still, we're here, aren't we? Now, let's get this over with. This was my idea and I'm already not liking it."
The trio of rebels proceeded to quickly followed him inside.
The place had once been a conference room, if Zertis had to make a guess. Not that he cared much about it anyway; he had tried taking a seat, before realizing how utterly uncomfortable those plastic chairs were. They had clearly not been designed with Kartisians in mind, as his tail kept on getting in the way.
Eventually, he gave up the effort and resolved himself to remain standing up, scrolling through his data-pad in an effort to look busy. Occasionally, he glanced up from it and around. He wasn't the only one present; in fact, the room was crowded with Kartisians belonging to all branches of the Restorationist Expeditionary Fleet, together with portable consoles and various kind of equipment and instruments laying about.
The support staff had effectively stormed the room and claim it for their own use as an impromptu command centre. Not that anyone could have contested their claim, of course. Zertis was smart enough to recognize that it was their work keeping the Restorationists as a well-oiled and deadly fighting machine.
He spotted Mekior as well, deep in conversation with his own deacon, if the regalia he wore was any indication, and what looked like a logistical officer. Oktar too was present, though for all intent and purposes he wasn't even there, as he had plopped down in a chair and fallen asleep without much of an afterthought. There he still was, snoring away and oblivious to the world around him.
There were a series of distant booming detonations, coming muffled through the reinforced walls of the Palace of the Legislature. Some of the officers present glanced up momentarily in apprehension, only to then return back to their occupations shortly afterward.
'Short range. Probably mortars,' Zertis noted absentmindedly. 'Easier for the resistance teams to carry around, compared to proper artillery pieces anyway.'
By his side, Oktar's four eyes blinked open at once, and the Kartisian shot up from his seat in one fluid motion. "He's here," he simply said, wiping away the sleepiness in his eyes. The Pack Leader never got the chance to ask what he was talking about.
The set of double-doors at the end of the room burst wide open. Six Huscarls stepped inside with thundering footsteps; they were heavily-armoured Kartisians, covered head-to-tail in precious suits of carapace-like armour that obscured most of their faces. Heavy auto-guns stood ready by their sides, ammo-belts dangling. As one they stepped to either side of the doors to let a seventh figure in.
Every sound within the room ceased in that very moment, even the soft beeping of consoles. Zertis ignored the shuffling and scraping of taloned feet as many quickly stood up from their working station in greeting, for his eyes were completely drawn to Kalani.
Her Voice stood before them fully arrayed for battle, plates of hardened alloy covering his scaly body. The armour itself was a priceless relic, a work of art built solely to be gifted to those most faithful to Her teachings. Handed down from one Voice to the other, each wearer had left an unremarkable trace on it, be it a modest add-on, or a cut or dent earned on the battlefield.
"Praise be to Her!" the Deacon broke the silence. "Her Will is finally made manifest! Her embrace shields and guides us amongst the stars-"
"And Her Voice drowns out all other in darkness," Kalani cut in, head tilted to the side. "I appreciate your observance of tradition, Deacon Bulvir, but time is short."
His steely gaze settled on those present in the room. "Out. All of you."
For a few seconds, none moved. Officers and orderlies exchanged glances among themselves, either confused by the order or simply in awe by the presence of Her Voice.
"Do I need to repeat myself?" Kalani growled, taking a step forward. There was no need, as the entire staff quickly proceeded to leave the room in an orderly fashion under the unflinching watch of the Huscarls.
Zertis and Oktar moved to join them, but Kalani stopped with a mere raise of his hand. "You two stay." He shot a glance to one of his bodyguards. "Close the doors." He obeyed without hesitation.
Zertis blinked, momentarily taken aback. He could feel a sickening feeling settling in his stomach, but he decided to let none of his nervousness show, beating back the urge to pull at his collar. Shooting a furtive glance at the Pathfinder though, he found him standing at ease, completely and utterly unconcerned about the current situation.
'He either knows something I don't, or he's just a fool,' Zertis reasoned. 'Ancestors, both are probably correct.'
The door slid closed, and the Huscarls took position around the room, silently. Kalani turned his head to both in turn and, after a few more seconds of silence, he spoke.
"We have a problem."
The Kartisian reached back with a hand and pulled out a small projector from one of his armour's pouches. He switched it on, and a holographic picture appeared before them, showing them a picture taken some ten hours prior in an abandoned supply station.
'The Lombax! They are here? How?' Zertis frowned, but it was Oktar who spoke first.
"I'm guessing that you've read my Pack's field report, yes?"
"I did," Kalani said. "And I will not hide you both that this new development is … troublesome."
"How so?" Zertis asked.
"It means, in the simplest terms, that the Ancient Enemy is aware of our plans and thus hot on our trail." His four eyes narrowed. "There can be no other explanation as to why she's here. Her presence could have not presented itself at a more unfavourable time. With our fleet still recovering from …" He paused for a moment, musing. "We have no other choice but to accelerate our plans."
"My Lord, she's but one Lombax." Zertis pointed out. "Surely me and my Battle Pack can-"
"She's Praetorian Guard!" Kalani snapped at him. "Have you ever faced a Lombax Praetorian in single combat, Pack Leader? Do you know of their tactics, their weapons, the brutal training they go through so to be turned into unstoppable killing machines!?"
Zertis remained silent. Admittedly, he did not. Most of the information available to him was scarce on the subject, and probably at least thirty years out of date. Then, to his surprise, Kalani shook his head with a sigh.
"Never mind. Your words were born out of ignorance, not malice. Forgive my outburst, Pack Leader. Please understand that much is at stake here, and failure might very well set us back months, if not years."
Sensing his momentary confusion, Her Voice explained. "We've been relying much on Lombax technology to move between dimensions. Perhaps even too much. Yet, after all this time, we still fail to truly understand it, nor replicate it. Tracking our movements must have been a child's play for them!"
Zertis nodded. "I understand, My Lord. What task do you have for me and my Battle Pack then?" he asked, placing both hands behind his back, standing ready.
"Your task is two-fold, in fact." A grin made an appearance on his visage. "Eventually, the Assistant will realize we're not, in fact, simple mercenaries. Until that happens, however, we will be seizing whatever we can. Technology, resources, even warbots if get the chance; Nefarious's Empire is dying, and I have intention of taking the best slice from its fat carcass. Our scavenging teams will inform you of what needs to be done."
"Simple enough," Zertis noted, nodding. "Anything else?"
"There is a Markazian here," Kalani said, his voice dropping in volume. "A special one. We established contact with him some years ago, most of it being Oktar's work. He has proven himself very valuable to us, but alas, his usefulness has ended. I will not leave any lead that the Ancient Enemy might find. Deal with him and destroy any information he still holds. Scorched earth, if necessary."
Zertis nodded sombrely. "It will be done, My Lord."
"What about the Lombax, sir?" Oktar cut in. "How should our forces deal with her?"
"They won't," Kalani stated. A wicked, eager grin spread across his features, his teeth flashing. "Two Praetorian Guards would have been a serious threat, but one? That's a different thing altogether. I will personally deal with her." Then, he chuckled, as if he'd just found something amusing in that.
"Her skull shall be a fine addition to my collection. And besides, washing Her shrine with the blood of Her enemies is a sign of good luck for the future. I'm sure Her Devotees will agree with me."
Zertis was confident, at least, that Mekior would.
"Something on your mind?"
Phantom simply shook his head, though the Rilgarian's eyes looked everywhere but towards Rivet.
"I was just thinking," he said at length, then he sighed. "You know, there was a time when I used to brag about my sixth sense for troubles. How nothing would escape my instincts and all that. But as of late, well …"
Rivet blinked. "Is this about those Markazians? Look, don't be too harsh on yourself. They got the jump to us? Fine. It happens even to the best." Then, rolling her eyes in annoyance. "It's not like I spotted them anyway."
Phantom let out a soft chuckle, but it was a weak one. A frown quickly returned on his face. "Thanks, but I'm being serious here, Rivet. This is not the first time it has happened either. There was that time in Nefarious City, and even before …" he paused, shaking again his head before laying against the back of his seat. "Maybe I'm just starting to get slower."
He looked up and finally their eyes met. "I mean, how long have we been doing this, Rivet? Something like a decade? Heck, I'm honestly surprised we both lasted that long. No offence."
"None taken. But I'm not seeing your point. What's this all about?" Phantom shrugged.
"I was thinking that … I dunno, maybe I should retire. After this one, I mean. The galaxy is free from the Emperor now, so maybe it's time for me to hang up my blaster for good, and maybe do something else. Something I like. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. Heck, I'm betting you already have plans for the future, right?"
Rivet opened her mouth, and then quickly shut it. Several seconds passed, in silence, her mind struggling to find an answer; or at the very least a good one.
She had never seriously considered it; victory had always looked like some far-away proposition, constantly out of her reach in spite of her efforts. And as much as she hated to admit it, Rivet had actually grown comfortable with it; the constant struggle had become an integrated part of her.
The 'Rebel Lombax' was more than a simple nickname. It was her identity.
But now, everything was coming to an end. Nefarious was gone, probably in the stomach of that giant squid on Novalis, and the Empire kept on unravelling day after day.
'Well, damn. Maybe the Galaxy won't need the Rebel Lombax any longer.' The thought did not bring her the relief she was hoping it would.
The creaking of an opening door caught her attention. Maximilian, or Max, stepped inside the room, carrying a tray with some steaming-hot mugs and a small plate of biscuits.
"I hope this tea will be of your liking," the Markazian began, "unfortunately, it appears our coffee provisions have just run out. There's some milk though, somewhere. I could fetch it for you, but I refuse to make any promise on its level of preservation. Our fridge works only when it chooses to."
He handed one of the mugs to Phantom, who graciously accepted it. He went to hand one to Rivet as well, but the Lombax stopped him with a raised hand.
"Maybe later. Right now, I think we've got a few things to talk about, don't we?"
Maximilian nodded. "Straight to the point, I see. I can respect that. Very well." He picked a mug for himself as he went to sit behind his desk, cluttered with papers, old volumes and what not. The office he had escorted them was rather small, and Rivet could only guess this was his workspace.
How one could work within this confusion, was anyone guess. Then again, Rivet's hideout could have used some tidying up, once in a while.
"Alright," Rivet began, eyes hardening on him. "First of all, who are you? And where's Clatchky, by the way?"
"He said he would contact the other member of your group, doubtlessly to assure them of your wellbeing." He shrugged, before taking a sip from his beverage. "As for the other question, well, I think I've already answered that."
"Right," Rivet said at length. "And since when academics lead a resistance movement? No offense, but you don't exactly strike me as a freedom fighter."
"Rivet, that was rude," Kit noted from her back.
"No, no, no, she does have a point," Maximilian conceded, before placing the mug down. "Admittedly, I'm not much of a fighter myself. My daughter is the one that inherited that fiery spirit in the family. I do sometimes lend a hand where I can though, when I'm not drowning in work. I'm still the mayor after all."
Rivet blinked, slowly. "The mayor?"
Grinning, Maximilian spread his arms wide, gesturing around. "Welcome to Opal, a little piece of paradise away from the noise and hustle of the big city. Well, used to be." His face turned serious. "Unfortunately, war is far-reaching and all-encompassing. I made sure those who could leave have already done so. The rest is here to fight."
He shook his head, and the pleasant smile returned. "But that's entirely a different topic. Now, miss Rivet, may I ask y-"
"Hold it right there," Rivet cut in, "I don't know what the hell Clatchky told you about this whole interview thing or whatever this is, but I've come here for my own reasons." She flexed her mechanical hand, clenching it hard in a fist. "And I've got a matter to settle. So, professor, tell me; where's the Assistant?"
"Uh?" Maximilian blinked for a moment. "Oh, you mean the Emperor's bot? Well, that's easy. She's in Kalithar, our capital city. Good luck getting to her though."
"What do you mean?"
He did not answer immediately, taking his time for another sip of tea from his mug. His brows furrowed. "Damn, it's cold. Should have left it on the stove for a while longer," he , he turned his attention back at her.
"Problem is, Kalithar is a megalopolis, a veritable maze of concrete, steel, and skyscrapers. And regarding its defences, well, let us say there's a reason Nefarious had to take its time to crack it," he said with a small smile.
"As far as I'm aware, there's still fierce fighting in the suburbs, so you may reach those, but the core of the city and the Imperial Quarter are firmly in the Assistant's hands. Even the resistance groups have decided to storm the place only after all forces have been consolidated. And, if we were determined to deal with those defences conventionally, it will probably take months of gruelling combat to push through."
Rivet frowned but said nothing. She crossed her arms on her chest. "What do you mean with 'conventionally'? Are you guys planning on using … you know…"
"What?! Of course not!" he perked up with indignation. "There are still civilians in there! We are determined to drive the enemy off our planet, miss Rivet, but we're not monsters. We wouldn't nuke our capital!"
"Could have fooled me." Rivet arched an eyebrow, before a determined expression made its appearance on her face. "Still, it doesn't matter. If the Assistant is there, that's where we are going."
"Uh, Rivet? Are you sure that is the best approach?" Kit inquired, an evident note of worry in her voice.
"I mean, you know I always support you, Riv, but I kinda have to agree with Kit here," Phantom said. "Infiltrating an Imperial base? Hard, but it's doable. Except that there's no way they don't know we are coming this time. I'm not very keen on suicide mission, thank you very much."
"Zordoom was one as well, but we pulled it out anyway, didn't we?" Rivet pointed out.
"Wait, it was you that cracked the prison?" Maximilian let out an amused chuckle. "Clatchky did warn me you were headstrong, yet I didn't fully believe it." He shook his head. "Once that book is finally done, somebody will surely accuse me of exaggerating current event. Ah well, life is stranger than fiction, or so the saying goes."
Rivet gave him a look halfway between irritation and surprise. "Is that what this all about? A book?"
"Technically it's called academic research," Maximilian pointed out with some embarrassment. "The fact that it will probably end up as full-fledged tome is … ah, totally unrelated."
He rubbed his hands together vigorously. "Still, you are in luck. There is indeed a way to reach the Assistant without being pulverized by the city's defences. In fact, your arrival could not have happened at a better time." He got up as he spoke, and then started rummaging through a nearby bookshelf. He pulled book after book away, as if he was looking for something.
"It so happens that me and all the others will be leaving soon. I've got a meeting with a few colleagues of mine that are readying the finishing touches on the device."
"The … device?" Rivet asked. To that, Maximilian chuckled, again. Rivet could have sworn there was something ominous in that.
"Let's just say my constant and extensive research regarding the Lombax and their tech may finally amount to something. If it works, which I'm fully confident it will. If it doesn't-" He paused for one single moment, before going back to work. "Well, at least nobody will be around to complain that it did not work. A relief, honestly."
Rivet shook her head, massaging her temples. "Look, can you be clear for once? And what you're doing right now?"
The answer came shortly afterward as a cry of triumph from the older Markazian. The next moment, Maximilian was standing before her, holding a bunch of stained cloths in his hands. He was grinning wildly now and, truth to be told, Rivet found it slightly unsettling.
"Miss Rivet," he began. "I understand you need to reach the Assistant. I can help you with that. In exchange, I ask but a small favour from you."
The Lombax crossed her arms, head tilted to one side, earrings tinting softly. "Let me guess, you want an interview with me." He nodded. "Why though? Because I've suddenly become famous or something?"
To her surprise, the Markazian shook his head. "As I've said, miss Rivet, I'm an historian. I have no interest in the 'Rebel Lombax', merely the one standing behind that name. I leave legends and myths to the others."
Rivet sighed, shaking her head. "I really don't have time for th-"
"Wait, wait, wait!" Maximilian spluttered, his voice taking a nervous pitch before realizing that and taking a moment to gather himself. "Before you make any decision, allow me first to add something to the bartering scale."
With a little flourish, he removed the cloth he was holding, revealing the round-shaped object hidden beneath. Rivet's eyes widened as they caught the glint of metal. The thing was a bit rusted and stained with soot, but the inscriptions along its surface were still visible. She recognized them, even if she couldn't read it.
For one moment, she shot Maximilian a glance, and found him to be grinning. And for once, Rivet could almost agree with him.
'A Lombax orb?'