Mayor Wettsworth could not speak; even breathing came out as a labouring process. His eyes had been glued on the monitor for several minutes now; the tie around his neck felt tighter with each passing moment, forcing him to occasionally pull at it.
Colonel Dessabre was speaking some distance away, on the other end of the conference table, occasionally gesturing at the holographic projector. He saw his lips moving, but he could register no sound coming out.
Documents and other official-looking papers laid strewn all across the table, together with the occasional half-filled ashtray. Acrid smoke lingered in the room, as a few of his advisors kept on chewing on their cigars. Wettsworth could have used a smoke right now; it always helped calm his nerves.
Instead, the only thing he felt right now was a painful twist in his stomach. Wettsworth had to grip both arms of his chair tightly, lest somebody noticed the trembling hands. The modest conference room was crammed with Tillos's civic representatives: chief engineers; municipal advisors; senior bureaucrats; merchants; militia leaders. They all watched the scene unfolding on the screen with bated breath.
Every single member of Third Platoon had had an integrated camera on his or her headgear; it was standard-issue, as Colonel Dessabre had explained but a few minutes before. A wiser part of him noted that he had decided to provide the video-feeds only to better drive home the point he was making right now. If he was, Wettsworth had to admit it was effective.
The firefight in Sector Delta kept on playing across the monitor. There were flashes and detonations, followed by crimson beams criss-crossing through the air and lasting for barely an eyeblink. Wettsworth could feel his heart tightening each time one of the cameras dropped to the ground, never to get up.
"… pursue has been largely impossible due to the nature of the terrain, though we have managed to confirm at least twenty-two fallen Blargs on the field." Dessabre clicked his tongue, loudly. "Third Platoon, fortunately, counts only five dead and multiple injured …"
Wettsworth blinked, slowly as his brain took his time to process what he had just heard. It was his constituents dying there, the people of Tillos! How many of those were leaving families, wives, husbands behind? He could not bring herself to celebrate those numbers – the harsh arithmetic of war, as Dessabre had put it.
"Thank you for your … report, colonel," he finally spoke, careful to supress the tense quiver in her voice. "Y-You've made the situation quite clear, but please tell me; do you think that Tillos is under threat right now? Do you think the Blargs might attempt a … ah …" He hesitated once more, his tongue wrestling with words refusing to come out. On the screen, a PDF trooper let out a blood-curling scream as her shoulder disappeared, vaporized into a red mist.
'Dear Zoni, it's happening for real, isn't it? This is a war, an actual war! Just like the one against Tachyon.'
Basilisk III had fortunately avoided the worst of that conflict. Too far away from the frontlines to experience the bloodshed; too little important to attract Tachyon's attention. The planet had managed to pass through the worst years of the Polaris Galaxy relatively unscathed, only occasionally having to repel a raid or two.
Yet, those days of peace were about to end.
"An assault on the colony?" Dessabre finished. He shrugged. "As of now, I do not possess indications that they might. Admittedly, they did move quite close to Tillos's boundaries, and the PDF garrison alone cannot be everywhere."
"Close!?" One of the advisors snapped. "For Zoni's sake, they were basically in our backyard! Members of our militia are dead, killed by the Sons of Orxon! If that isn't an outright war declaration… "
"T-Thank you, Mister Siuk," the mayor swiftly cut in, keeping a lid on the wave of panic mounting behind the façade. "I understand your concerns, but this is not the time to let emotion get the better of us. We must first and foremost assure the safety of the colony." There were a few tentative nods across the table, though most remained silent, mulling on their own thoughts.
"Colonel Dessabre, I trust you have a plan of action?" Wettsworth inquired.
"The PDF garrison is already mobilizing as we speak. Still, at this point I see no reason holding back. I therefore suggest an immediate colony-wide draft. It will grant us somewhat of a strategic reserve should the worst come to pass."
There was a pause. Wettsworth nearly gulped right there. The rest were not so constrained, and the entire room exploded with shouting.
"A draft? Are you crazy?!"
"This is illegal, borderline unconstitutional! The mayor doesn't have the authority for enacting it!"
"I need my staff to maintain the power grid! If they are conscripted, who will keep the lights on in Tillos?"
"What about possible exemptions? Our company keeps the money flowing in the colony, you know. And there are … uh, there are medical conditions, of course! Those must be taken into account!"
The rest was lost to Wettsworth's ear, drowned out by dozens talking and shouting over each other. He resisted the urge of tearing what was left of his hair out, and limited himself to a mere shake of his head before massaging his temples. He hated moments like this, to be reminded the only reason he was at his third mandate was because of the status quo he represented. Nobody liked big shake-ups in the way thing used to be run, and so they had kept him there.
And even worse, he had long since grown comfortable to it.
'I should have just retired. I should have left this job to somebody else. Zonis, why didn't I left this job to somebody else?'
He failed to notice the expression of utter disgust taking shape on Dessabre's face.
"Alright, there we are! Home sweet home," Finn announced, jumping down from the hov-truck flat-bed and back onto concrete.
Ratchet blinked, jerking awake in his seat. He took him some time to realize that he had actually fallen asleep on the way there. The pain in his side had at least subsided, curtesy of a copious amount of nanites; some of it still lingered, even though the injury had long since closed; an unfortunate side-effect. Still, those could do little against the wave of encroaching exhaustion that had suddenly descended on him. After all, it had been quite the intense day.
All around him came the cacophony of rumbling engines, whirring auto-cranes and shouting men. The column had come to a stop in the middle of a spacious motor pool deep inside the PDF compound. The scene all around was one of utter chaos; military vehicles were driven out of their garage units and assembled by rows across the large plaza. Some were mere hov-trucks designed for the transport of troops and supplies; a few however were large, treaded, heavily-armoured and armed combat vehicles, their pristine plate armour and large-calibre weaponry glinting under the sunlight of the early afternoon.
And no matter where Ratchet turned his gaze, he saw PDF troopers being gathered by fuming and screaming COs as they fought to bring order to the chaos besetting them from all sides. Moving in the opposite direction were grey fatigue-wearing maintenance crews, intent on checking hover-vehicles and transport trucks for damage, dragging long fuel tubes with them.
The PDF garrison on Tillos had been mustered in its entirety, from the professional soldiers to newly-marshalled civilian volunteers or militiamen. Ratchet wasn't sure whether he should have been impressed by such deployment of forces or worried. After all, his time working with the Talwyn and the PDF had had its ups and down, even if these guys and gals seemed to know what they were doing.
"Thank you, mister Tajeev," Clank said from his seat right beside Ratchet's. "It was very kind of you to allow us to come along. We both appreciate it."
In response, the PDF trooper looked almost embarrassed for a moment, turning his eyes away and scratching the back of his head. "Ah, it was nothing really. Couldn't have you two walk all the way to Tillos anyway, especially not after that nasty cut your friend got." He tilted his head in Ratchet's direction. "As I said, it was nothing."
"I mean, the injury wasn't that bad," Ratchet pointed out. "And I still had my hover-boots with me so-ouch!" He gasped as Clank gave him a gentle, yet determined, nudge with his metallic elbow.
"Ratchet …"
"Alright, alright! I was joking, pal. Relax." He shot Finn an apologetic glance. "But seriously though, we couldn't have done it without you and the others. I owe you guys one."
He shook his head, chuckling as he did so. "The Lombax Hero owns me a favour? Damn, just wait for my kids to hear that. I bet they'll annoy their schoolmates for days and days."
"I, uhm … I'm sure they will," Ratchet agreed as he helped Clank descend from the vehicle. He noticed a few of the PDF personnel shooting curious glances their way as they passed by. However, they actively tried not to meet their eyes, hurrying towards whatever task they had at hand.
'Uh, seems like they know of me and Clank here too. Should have expected it, really.' Ratchet mused before turning back to Finn.
"Hey, uh, while you're at it, mind stopping calling me the 'Lombax Hero'? No offense, but it really sounds weird to hear after a while, and I don't want any of you to give me any special treatment. Just call me Ratchet."
Finn nodded. "Ah, well, I guess it's fair. Ratchet it is then." He dropped his smile however, eyebrows furrowing as he glanced around. He scratched his chin, a pensive look on his face as he did so.
"That doesn't look good though."
"I'm sorry?"
Finn shrugged. "Sorry, just thinking aloud." He shook his head. "It just seems the higher-ups must have heard of our little head-bashing with the Blargs back in Sector Delta. I'm not sure what's happening, but they've gotta be nervous."
"What exactly caused you draw that conclusion?" Clank inquired, curious. Finn said nothing, simply jutting a thumb towards another vehicle some distance away. From where they stood, it looked like a normal hov-truck, except for the box-shaped thing mounted behind in the back. It was surrounded by PDF technicians running a thorough examination of the weapon and its systems.
"We had our fair share of scraps with the Blargs over the last couple of years, but it was mostly small raids and a gunfight or two." A grimace made its appearance on his face. "This morning was different though; the Sons of Orxon had never showed up in force until now. And if command decided to break out the only MLRS we have from storage, it means they're already thinking the Blargs might try something serious."
"A what now?" Rachet asked.
"Ever used a rocket launcher?" The Lombax nodded. "Same thing, but bigger." Finn shook his head once again as his eyes fell on a group of PDF medics as they unloaded black body bags from one of the vehicles, laying them down in a neat row.
"Damn shame for Cosker," he grumbled.
As he followed his gaze, it took Ratchet a few moments before everything eventually clicked in his mind. I tried to think of something nice to say for the occasion, without much success. It wasn't like he actually knew him.
"We are sorry for what happened," Clank said eventually. "He was a friend of yours, yes?"
"And my neighbour as well," he said before musing. "They probably informed his parents already. Cosker didn't talk a lot, you know, but he was PDF. Maybe I should go pay a visit."
"Still, that'll have to wait. I've got to go and debrief my platoon before we …" He trailed off as his gaze fell on another beret-wearing, uniformed figure waiting by the edge of the motor pool. Finn scowled.
"Ah, shit."
"Something's wrong?"
"Just Captain Shiok waiting for me. I swear that guy never sleeps. I guess I'll spend the next fifteen minutes trying to explain what the hell happened in Sector Delta." He sighed, looking tired for the first time. "I'm looking forward to either a long chewing up session or an encomium. Knowing him, the captain will probably opt for both."
"Oh? Perhaps we could help you," Clank offered. "I'm sure that if we explain to him what happened he will be more understanding towards you and your situation-"
He never got to finish it, as by then Captain Shiok had already covered the distance between them. He was tall, muscular, with olive-hued skin. Ratchet wasn't exactly sure what species he was from but, if his scowl was any indication of his overall mood, he was in no rush of finding out.
What followed was less of a conversation and more a series of grunted instructions.
"You two, with me. Major Pelesky wants to see you. Sergeant, I'll meet you in the barracks in half an hour. Assemble your platoon there." And with that he was off just as quickly as he had arrived, heading back towards the PDF Citadel without another word.
"Or he will do that," Clank concluded. He jumped back on the magnetic harness on Ratchet's back, just as the Lombax raced to catch up with him before he got out of sight. They left behind a very confused Finn, as he tried and figure out just what the hell had just happened.
The Polaris Defence Force HQ in Tillos was arranged not much differently from an actual fortress. Situated on a hill overlooking the main city to the south-east, it stretched out across three rings of fortifications, defences, troop barracks and administrative buildings of all kinds. Towering above all was the Citadel, a ferro-concrete, multi-storey building shaped like a wide-based cylinder; it had in all likelihood won every single edition of "ugliest building in Polaris", if such competition were to actually exist.
As the trio ascended their way up the road and towards the top of the hill, the chaos around them did not abate; in fact, it only increased, a constant stream of supply vehicles and PDF personnel hurrying in the opposite direction. There was a palpable tension in the air, an electric one just waiting to be finally unleashed.
'And dread. Damn, I hope they'll all be alright,' Ratchet mused, before shaking his head as he remembered the words Finn had said but a few minutes ago. No point worrying about that now, he decided. Knowing Talwyn, she had prepared them thoroughly for such a moment.
However, as they finally entered the main plaza, he had soon to abandon that trail of thought, as his gaze fell on a heavy-set, hov-truck waiting in a nearby parking lot. Secured to the large flatbed behind with strong synthetic ropes was Aphelion, battered and mangled after their recent battle both in the sky and on the ground. The shine on her armour was long gone, and a few armour plates had even fell off during transport. Mud and grit caked its once pristine surface, marred and blackened by the laser fire she had been subjected to.
To see his spaceship -his friend- reduced to such a pitiful state …
Ratchet had to contain the snarl taking shape on his face. As much as he wanted to blame the Blargs for what had happened, he simply could not. It had been his own mistake that had caused that. His own cockiness back there had almost gotten all three of them killed.
'Dammit Ratchet, it's unlike you to commit that kind of mistakes. What were you thinking?'
Captain Shiok never slowed down as he guided them past the plaza and into the main building. He paused only just enough to show his IDs to a couple of checkpoints before they were all waved through without much of a second thought. From there, he kept on leading them deeper and deeper into the building, passing by nearly identical offices and tiled corridors. Above their heads, stabbing white lights shone bright.
Eventually, they came to a stop before a double set of heavy metal doors. At either side of them stood two tall, military-grade warbots, the PDF's crest emblazed across their chests.
"Wait here," Shiok snapped, then stepped forward. As he did, the two bots pushed the door open for him without a single word; they quickly shut it close once he was inside and trudged back to their assigned posts.
Ratchet rolled his eyes. "Oh, sure. Let's wait here, wherever here is. He could have at least told us where we were going though."
"He did seem rather taciturn."
"Yeah, tell me about it, pal." Then, an idea struck him as he glanced at one of the warbots.
"Hey, buddy. How's it going?" he began, mustering the friendliest grin he had. "Looks pretty boring down there."
The warbot, a towering, hunched construct with a pair of plasma cannons for arms, remained eerily silent.
Ratchet's grin faltered for just a moment. "Ah … alright. Hey, that door you're guarding looks pretty interesting. What's behind it? Something important I bet."
Again, silence. The only sound came from the soft beeping of his sensors.
"Not even a hint? Come on, don't make me beg you."
The warbot did not even flinch.
"Alright, fine," Ratchet raised both his hands. "Not a very talkative bot, uh? It's fine, I get it." Before he could continue though, he felt a soft groan emanating from his stomach. It was enough to remind him that they had skipped lunch thanks to the Blargs.
"You guys wouldn't happen to know a place where one could grab a bite to eat, right?"
To his astonishment, one of the warbots moved, raising one of his massive arm-mounted cannons to point at a vending machine on the far end of the corridor.
Ratchet arched an eyebrow. "Uh. Didn't see that one. Thanks."
"You are welcome," the bot replied, as he shifted back into his previous position.
"So, you can actually talk!" The warbot however remained silent once again, leaving a very frustrated Rachet no other choice but to scowl at it. "I bet you're having real fun, aren't you?" he groused as he strode away, his comment being met only by their complete and utter indifference.
Ratchet opted for a protein bar. It wasn't much, but at least it was nutritious. It was also the only thing they sold there. It tasted bland, thought that was probably a blessing in disguise. Knowing his luck up to that point, it could have tasted like a pair of sweat-soaked socks.
"Ahem, Ratchet?" Clank eventually spoke up after a few minutes of silence. "Now that we have some time, mind if we talk a moment?"
"Uh? Oh, sure thing, pal." He took another bite from the protein bar, chewing slowly as it tried stick to his teeth. "What's on your mind?"
The bot didn't speak, at least not immediately. Glancing behind and over his shoulder, Ratchet noticed Clank's metallic jaw set in his typical frown. It was almost funny, in a way; after all those years, Ratchet still couldn't understand if that expression meant he was thoughtful, irritated, or just worried.
"I just wanted to know how you are feeling right now," he began.
"You mean the injury? Pretty fine all things considered." The Lombax shrugged. "Could have gone better, but it's not the worst cut I got in recent memory. I'll be alright."
"I am glad to hear it. However, that is not what I was referring to. In fact, I have no doubt that your physical conditions are within healthy parameters." He tilted his head to the side, pausing. "How are you feeling right now?"
He blinked in confusion. "Uhm … I've got to be honest, I'm not sure I understand what you're getting at, pal."
"Ratchet," Clank sighed, shaking his head. "What are we doing here? Even better question, why have we come here to begin with?"
The Lombax frowned, opening his mouth to utter an answer. Except he couldn't find any; whatever explanation had been in his mind, clear as day but a second before, was gone now; as if it had never been there in the first place.
"I am worried about you, Ratchet," Clank continued, quietly. "You have started acting different than usual. Charging headlong into combat is something I would have expected a younger you to do, but not anymore. You are significantly smarter than that. Is something wrong?"
"I …" Again, he hesitated. "It's … well, it's complicated, pal."
"It is about Grimm, right?" The question -even if he could have sworn it sounded like anything but- blindsided him, nearly causing him to freeze right there. He shot a glance over his shoulder before letting out a tired sigh.
"Way to drive the knife home."
"I apologize," Clank said. "It was not my intention to upset you. If you prefer, I'll drop the subject immediately." Ratchet shook his head instead.
"It's not really that, it's …" He hesitated, again. His ears dropped behind, and he bit his lip hard until he felt the taste of blood. "Grimm got hurt because of me. The Blargs hurt him exclusively because he was family, no other reason."
"Ratchet …"
"And yes, you were right. It was a trap. It was so incredibly obvious that we were flying into one. But if I have to be honest, I didn't care." His hands tightened into fists. "I just thought … you know… about Grimm, about the call, about that asshole on the phone laughing at my face!" The last part dripped with venomous hatred. Ratchet stopped, breathing deeply to collect himself.
"I suspect that eliciting a response from you was the objective all along. You can hardly be blamed for reacting to such insult. As you said, Grimm was very close to you," Clank argued. Ratchet shook his head.
"Dammit, who else are they going to target now? Are we stuck here while those Blargs hunt down every single one of our friends? Are they even planning doing that? Zoni, this whole hero stuff used to be simpler, you know," he said through gritted teeth. "We've got to do something, Clank, before they get any other ideas. What if the go after Quark? I know he sometimes gets on my nerves, but he's still a hero, most of the times, and our friend. And what about Talwyn? What if the-"
"Breathing, Ratchet," Clank cut in. "Breath."
The Lombax blinked for a moment, before deciding to decide to give a shot at his friend's advice. Unsurprisingly, it worked. The fear was still there, but it wasn't threatening to overwhelm him any longer.
"What we need right now is a plan of action," Clank pointed out. "No reason delving on matters we can't influence at the moment. Rather, let us focus on the problems at hand. So tell me, Ratchet; what should we do right now?"
"Right," Ratchet nodded. "Right. Okay then, first things first. We need to repair Aphelion. I'm not letting her in that sorry state. It is kinda my fault anyway."
"Very well. How do you propose to proceed about that?"
"Well, it won't be easy that's for sure. I don't have any of my tools with me, so-" His ears immediately perked up. "Wait. I bet those PDF guys must have some kind of facility for repairs, right? We did kinda help them already after all."
"I'm sure it won't hurt to ask." Clank nodded approvingly. "What after that?"
The Lombax's eyebrows furrowed. The, after a few moments of silence, he said, "We know there are Blargs here on Basilisk III, right? Well, I guess it wouldn't hurt to check up what they're up to. Figure out what their plans are and see if whether we can throw a wrench in there. What do you think?"
"I believe it is a good plan," Clank confirmed. "It leaves ample room for adjustment and improvisation. I believe the latter is your speciality, yes?"
Ratchet let out a chortle. "Oh, you know me too well!" Then, in a more serious tone, "Thanks, pal. I really needed that. We're lucky that between the two of us, at least one has all the brains."
"You are welcome, Ratchet," Clank said after a brief chuckle of his own. "Though I believe you are selling yourself short." The Lombax shrugged.
"Maybe, but I'm still glad of having you watching my back and keeping a cool head," he said with a grin. "Especially after recent events." Then, a shadow of doubt crossed his face. "Uh, do you think we should send a message to Rivet and Kit as well? I mean, it's been a while since we last called."
"That might be a little problematic at the moment," Clank explained with a little embarrassment. "See, the Extradimensional Rift-based High-Speed Communicator was synchronized with Aphelion's systems, so …"
"I see."
"Admittedly," Clank added, "In hindsight, it was a poor choice on my part."
"It's fine, don't worry about it. Just give me a couple of hours, some tools, and she'll be back into top shape."
Clank's sensors went slant for a moment. "Uhm, yes. Perhaps it would be wise for me to assist you in such operations. The electronic components are rather delicate, you see," he explained. Ratchet nodded.
"Hey, you two! Get a move on!" Shiok barked from behind them. The frown on his face seemed to have deepened, if that was even possible. "Major Pelesky is ready to receive you, so do not make him wait," the captain informed them acidly.
Ratchet, for his part, gave him an eye roll and tossed the half-eaten protein bar in a garbage bin nearby, before following the skulking PDF officer past the large metal doors.
The room beyond was large and poorly-lit, shrouded into a constant penumbra broken only by the hue coming from dozens and dozens monitors, working consoles, and holographic projectors scattered throughout the room. Without wasting a moment, Siuk led them onward, strolling past PDF personnel present in the room; few looked up from their workstations to glance at them, and even fewer showed any interest toward the newcomers, opting instead to resume their work.
There was a large holographic map of the colony and its immediate surrounding on the far side of the wall. A group of figures huddled nearby, seemingly in deep conversation. The captain came to a sudden stop some distance away from them, snapped his heels together and saluted. Ratchet, on his part, nearly bumped into him. He recovered quickly though, albeit with some embarrassment. If he had noticed it, Siuk did not comment.
"Major Pelesky, sir! As requested, the Lombax Hero and his companion are here!"
"I swear, could you guys stop calling me that?" Ratchet muttered, clearly annoyed. "It sounds like one of Clark's ideas. Actually, are we sure this isn't one of …" He trailed off, eyes widening as he finally took a better look at who was standing before him.
What Ratchet initially thought to be a simple set of body armour, turned out to be a metallic life-suit with a domed tank filled with fluid perched on top of it. And right within it, swimming around in that vat with a pair of eyes nearly as big as his body, was a-
'Drophyd. Major Pelesky is a Drophyd!'
"Thank you, Captain. You're dismissed. And the same goes to the rest of you. Get back to work and stop wasting my time," Pelesky growled, chewing on what looked like a cigar. Why would one have one inside a water tank was lost on Ratchet. That, however, was not the first thought that crossed his mind.
An electric jolt raced through the Lombax's body through the span of an eyeblink; the sensation of his muscles tensing up in preparation followed shortly afterward. It was a familiar feeling, shaped and sharpened through countless firefight over the years. His hand hovered for a brief moment over the OmniWrench secured to his side. Though distant, Ratchet was confident he could immediately reach for it.
"Don't bother," Pelesky told him, his voice barely above the whisper. "You draw that thing on me, you're not walking out of here alive. And if I wanted a fight, I wouldn't have bothered to bring you all the way here anyway."
"Well, that sure is comforting, isn't it?" Ratchet quipped. None of the two broke eye-contact nor spoke another word. The tense silence drew out for several more seconds, broken only by the soft hustle of working personnel and consoles, oblivious to the silent confrontation taking place.
"Major Pelesky, sir! We have lost communications with Outpost Omega. We can no longer contact them!" one of his aides, a Markazian woman, called out in alarm.
"Ah, shit," Pelesky spat, seemingly forgetting Ratchet's presence all of a sudden as he swum around in his tank. "Should have guessed they were gonna try something like that. Greenlight the launch of a Xilo-5. I want a surveillance drone over there, and I wanted it five minutes ago!" The aide scurried away.
His eyes -or rather, his whole body- turned again toward Ratchet. His cigar was still there, unlit, and he seemed content on just munching on it.
"Alright, let's keep it short," he began. "Colonel Dessabre is convinced that you may give us a hand right here. For the record, I am not, but my opinion doesn't matter, so here we are." His expression helped convey the absolute lack of enthusiasm at the prospect.
"Still, I've heard what you did in Sector Delta, Lombax, and that was some fine work. So, as much I hate it to say it, I might need someone that actually knows what the hell he's doing."
"Doesn't usually the PDF deal with this kind of stuff?" Ratchet asked. He had relaxed his stance in the meantime, but only by a tiny bit.
"I've got my guys, yes, but there's too much space to cover and not enough of them. And for the militia, well …" He frowned. "Half of them can't hit the side of a barn and the rest are more likely to shoot themselves. Still, that's what we have and I've got to make do. Any questions?"
Ratchet blinked, slowly, his mind taking its sweet time to actually process what he had just heard. "Wait, so you guys want our help to … uh …"
"To deal with the Blargs, yes," the Drophyd repeated, clearly annoyed. "Either they're just posturing and they're going to back down in a couple of weeks, or they're actually serious for once, and we're about to get hit by the mother of all shitstorms. Now, you ready to get to work or what?"
"Hold up just a moment," Ratchet protested. "What do you mean with 'get to work'?"
"We have yet to decide on your proposition, Mister Pelesky." Clank concurred. "Could you please give us a moment, if possible?"
The Drophyd scowled, rows of razor-sharp teeth poking out of his mouth. "Alright then, let me put in more simpler terms. You guys want your starship repaired, right?"
Ratchet nodded. "Well, yeah, that's the idea."
"Good. Then two things are gonna happen. You say no, and I'll have my technicians remove your ship from the premises. Good luck finding spare parts for that, at least until the emergency is over. The PDF gets priority on most materials for security purposes."
Rachet scowled, his lips turning into the beginning of a snarl. "And if we say yes?" Pelesky shrugged, or something similar. He did not have shoulders, after all.
"Then those same technicians will move that thing into one of the hangar bays and have a look at it. Hell, I'll even leave the repairs to you, if you want. I know you Lombaxes are into that kind of stuff." He snickered. "Just be careful. Our flyboys will drool over that starship as soon as they lay their eyes on that. So, what do you say?"
Ratchet simply shook his head. "That's not really a choice though."
"It's that a yes? Good." Without further ado, he gave Ratchet a mighty pat on the shoulder, nearly knocking the wind out of him. "Welcome aboard. Usually there's some formal stuff for such occasions, but we don't have time. Now scramble, will ya? I've got some work to do."
"Wait, I-" Ratchet tried to speak up, but by then Pelesky had already lost all interest on him. "Ivard! Where in the bloody hell is that drone?!" he thundered as he strode toward one of his aides typing away at a console.
For a few brief moments, Ratchet remained there, stunned, his mind having some difficulty in comprehending just what had transpired. Eventually, he gave up.
"Clank?"
"Yes?"
"What the … What did just happen?"
The bot mused for a few moments. "I believe you've just volunteered yourself for a brief period of service with the Polaris Defence Force."
"Oh," he simply said. "You know, I don't think that was part of the original plan."
"Well, it does seem we have already reached the improvisation-part. I do believe we have set a new record for how quickly our plan just fell apart."
Despite himself, Ratchet couldn't really hold back a fit of snickers. Maybe it was finally the entire weight of the day finally crashing on him and he was just too tired to actually care. Or perhaps it was the only way to not scream in frustration. Either way, it helped.
"Hold that thought, pal. Something tells me that we can do better than that."
"Oh dear."
Rain droplets ticked rhythmically on the glass panes lining the corridor as Julen moved at a brisk pace through it. Behind him came the footsteps of his personal security detail, made entirely up by the Sons of Orxon's most veteran fighters; their heavy gear rattled with each step they took, huffing and wheezing inside their rebreathers.
Julen let out a soft, content sigh. He liked the constant rattling of rain against steel and glass; it was soothing, almost pleasing. He couldn't even remember the last time it had properly rained on Orxon; that thought was enough for a frown to materialize on his face, despite being well hidden behind his rebreather.
Julen was a lot of things, but not a fool. It didn't matter how much he had loved his homeworld; Orxon was dead and that was the hard truth. How could one hope to sustain an entire population when the green, corrosive sludge falling from the sky scorched and smothered their crops, and the soil itself was gnawed away daily by ever-expanding dry badlands?
Shooting a furtive glance to the side, Julen was greeted by the sight of the city stretching out beyond the glass, some of its taller skyscrapers covered with large section of tarp and surrounded by automated cranes, still working despite the current outpour.
Julen simply shook his head. The Polaris Galactic Government had abandoned the Zarkov sector for a long time, but the old cities still remained, empty and pristine as they were left. He was certainly surprised that they would abandon a whole sector, but he could not complain; an old city was immeasurably better than no city at all. Still, some of the older and less -usable construction would have to be torn down and recycled for raw materials and space.
'It is a start, yet our situation remains precarious as always. So many enemies surround us on all sides. We cannot allow any of them to put the future of Blarg-kind in jeopardy, no matter the actions required.'
So taken was the Blarg by his own thoughts that he almost failed to notice his office's door silently opening before him. He did notice however the small cadre of Blargs waiting in the room, as they immediately got up from their seats as greeting. Julen simply waved a gloved hand at them, granting permission to sit back down.
"Gentlemen. My friends," Julen said as the took his own seat behind a rather spartan-looking metal desk. "I'm pleased to see that you've made it in time. Now, before we begin, is there something any of you wish to bring to my attention?"
For a few moments none spoke. "Ahem, Chairman?" a meek voice broke the silence, "there is actually a matter I believe should be brought up." The Blarg in question cleared his throat, taking a moment to adjust his rebreather before continuing.
"Regarding our food situation, well, I fear our estimates will have to be re-examined, scaled down in fact. Our workers simply lack the experience at growing the necessary crops. Admittedly, they have adapted quickly to their newly-assigned tasks, but even then …"
"It is not enough," Julen concluded thoughtfully, to which Gavib nodded quickly. He liked Gavib; he was not a Son of Orxon like the rest of those in the room, merely civil servant like many others, a remain of the previous administration that had survived the purges. Still, he was competent at his job, so Julen had kept him by his side.
"It seems that food rationing will have to been implemented then, at least in the short term. Hopefully the situation shall improve once the operation on Basilisk III is concluded." There were a few nods around the room.
"Speaking of Basilisk III," Julen drawled, his voice suddenly taking an edge of coldness. "Would somebody mind explaining what in hell went wrong there?"
There was a moment of tense silence. "I had a few words with some of our commanders on the ground. One of our detachments went in without proper support," Commander Tertius explained with a shrug after a while. "Losses have sadly been considerable; there was little they could have done against the Lombax Hero."
"Yes, I can see that. It is, in fact, quite evident," Julen growled. "That's not what I'm interested in though. Why is he on the planet? Who sent him there? Is he somehow aware of our plans?" He pressed his palms together over the desk. "Those are the questions I want answered right now. You are my counsellors, so start answering them."
Before anyone could say anything, the pneumatic door at the other end of the room slid open with a soft hiss. The figure that strode through was tall, reptilian-looking, with four amber-coloured eyes that flickered around the room. He wore a set of armour over bronze-coloured scales, and white, silver-tipped feathers adorned the back of his head.
"My deepest apologies, Chairman," Stopec intoned with a bow. "Our presence was momentarily demanded elsewhere. We have however urgent news to report to you."
Julen raised an eyebrow in displeasure but said nothing, limiting himself to a stiff now.
Normally, he liked to know who he was dealing with. Therefore, despite their many contributions up to that point, he did not trust these newcomers, these Kartisians. He had never encountered their species before, not in Solana nor Polaris, and indeed any attempt by his agents to dig up something on them had been for naught.
Still, they had dutifully held their end of the bargain so far, hadn't they? Julen could feel the frown setting on his face as his steely gaze settled on Stopec. Perhaps a bit too dutifully to his likings.
'It's not like we have much choice in the matter. The future of the Blargs must be secured by any means necessary. Though perhaps I should keep a more careful eye on them.'
"You have quite the courage to show yourself," Poulk grunted by his side. "Have you come here to finally report on that shitshow that was the Calypso?"
"Uh? Oh, yes. That." Stopec shook his head. "A tragic mistake that was. Intelligence can be faulty sometimes, despite our effort to avoid such accidents. All signs at my disposal pointed on the Lombax being on that ship. Still, no reason to loiter on this subject; more pressing matter awaits."
"You bloody animal!" Poulk snapped. "Do you even know how many were on that damned starcruiser? You said it was a sure hit! Well, it fricking wasn't. There was nothing but civilians on board! If our involvement is discovered, we'll have the Polaris Government knocking on our doors with dreadnoughts!"
The outburst was unusual for Poulk yet, in Julen's opinion, understandable. He was director of the newly restructured Special Operations Branch; his involvement on the attack on the Calypso had been considerable, even if it was Julen who had ultimately given the go-ahead for the operation.
Stopec was unimpressed, however. "I was not aware bloodshed disturbed you so. Not when the bombing campaign against the PDF of your own design is taken into account." His lips parted in a grimace. "So do not act so surprised with me, not when our methods are far closer than you believe. In the war that will soon begin, collateral damage will be regrettable, yes, but ultimately to be expected."
"Oh, don't you even try pulling out that card, you bastard! We both know this isn't the same thi-"
"Enough," Julen cut in dryly. He shot a cold glance to each in turn, as they both fell silent. "Mister Stopec, you claimed to have urgent news. Mind sharing them? Or have you come here to waste our collective time?"
Stopec eyes narrowed for just a moment, the corner of his lip going up in the beginning of a snarl. Yet, he expertly maintained his coolness, opting for a modest bow instead. "My apologies, Chairman. I do in fact bring interesting developments from Igliak. Vilke, if you don't mind?"
No sooner had those words left his mouth that a second Kartisian made his appearance just behind him. The only warning both Julen and the other Blargs received were his muffled steps as Vilke seemingly emerged from the air. A few were startled; Poulk's right hand hovered on his sidearm. The bodyguards immediately took a step forward.
If he was aware of the discomfort he had caused, Vilke gave no sign. He took a step forward before producing a holo-emitter from somewhere beneath his camo-cloak; all the while, his face remained set in an unreadable mask. Silently, he placed the device on the desk, before giving a cold nod and heading for the exit.
"Your … colleague is quite charming. A true speaker in fact," Julen noted as the pneumatic doors snapped closed again. Stopec let out an amused chuckle.
"I hope you'll forgive his brusque manners. He's just very shy, you see."
"So it seems." Julen pressed the button on top of the disk-shaped projector, activating it; a soft blue glow made its appearance. A series of pictures took shape before him and, as he carefully scanned them, Julen's eyes narrowed to tiny slits behind his mask.
All had been taken on Igliak; all showed the same two people, over and over again. Julen knew them both; one from her occasional appearances on the holovision, the other from his galaxy-wide fame.
"As you can see," Stopec began, "we have confirmed that but a few days ago, Captain-General Talwyn Apogee had a meeting with the Lombax Hero himself. Unsurprisingly, he would depart later than night for Basilisk III." There was a momentary pause. "I believe the implications of this are clear."
"It is quite worrying," Tertius noted, mostly under his breath. "If he has received an assignment directly from her, it means the Polaris Government is either aware of our intentions, or at least suspects them."
"Do we know at least what the meeting was about?" Poulk's inquired, his voice holding still a tone of suspicious, though there was a recognizable edge in it. Stopec shook his head.
"Sadly, me and my brethren could not get closer. We had to maintain our distance and limit ourselves to mere observation, least be detected." Another pause to lick his lips, before continuing. "Chairman, if I may be so bold, I suggest immediate action to-"
"No."
Stopec stopped, all four eyes blinking in surprise. "I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me." Julen looked up from the hologram, eyes shining with hard-as-steel determination. "This is not a decision that is up to you, Mister Stopec. We appreciate your kind help in such hard times, but I respectfully remind you that this is a matter for us to decide, not you. You are dismissed now."
Eyes narrowing for the briefest moment, the two locked gaze for a second before Stopec promptly backed down. "Of course, Chairman. Allow me to apologize. We are here to serve you, after all."
Julen spared him only a distracted nod. Discussion had already begun in earnest amongst his advisors on the issue at hand; everything, from a diplomatic protest to Igliak to more overt approaches, was apparently on the table. Commander Tertius even suggested an immediate yet discreet redeployment of the Sons' most elite troops on Basilisk III.
It was then that Stopec decided that his presence was no longer required, making his way to the exit after another courteous bow that was largely ignored. He was careful however to hide the growing grin on his lips.
'You absolute fool,' he thought grimly. 'You truly think you are in charge of what will happen next? Ah! The deck has long been stacked just as we wanted it to be, you're just playing along at our game. Hook, line and sinker, as my dearest father used to say.'
"So, how it went?" Vilke's voice broke him from his line of thought, just as the pneumatic door slid shut behind. The Kartisian stood by the panoramic windows, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his cowl down.
Stopec shrugged. "Could have gone better. Still, we did get some result. Even if that won't bring them into direct conflict with Igliak, it ought to light a fire beneath their seat, make them nervous. And nervous people do stupid things." They both spoke in their native dialect for security purposes. Even if the Blargs were listening on them, there would understand nothing.
"Does that mean that we shall finally move?"
Stopec rolled his eyes, though there was amusement in his tone. "Still impatient, uh? But yes, the waiting is over. Send word to our cell; they are to ready themselves for battle and join us on Basilisk III. Her Voice counts on us for this." His lips slip into a wide grin as he placed both hands on Vilke's shoulder-pauldrons. "Rejoice, Brother. The honour of his death shall belong to you."
Vilke's eyes went wide; he tried to speak but no word came out at first. "W-Wait … me? I have … I have been chosen?" He sucked in his breath. "You are not taunting me, are you?"
Stopec shook his head. "I can assure you I am not. I have taught you everything I knew, every single ounce of my experience on countless battlefields, but now the rest depends on your own skills. As long as you trust your instincts, I have full confidence that you shall not fail."
"H-Her … Her embrace shields and guides us amongst the stars," the younger warrior whispered, barely containing his excitement. His fingers were twitching, fidgeting with his cloak.
"And Her Voice drowns all others in darkness," Stopec concluded solemnly as he smiled on him. "Make us proud, Brother. She will be watching."