Tuu waited at the patio of the shared apartment, clad in his full set of armor, cloaked from view as he lay in wait with his rifle. He had one angle of Ghor's apartment covered. Kazak, meanwhile, took to leaping across rooftops in his uniform until he made his way to their second angle, allowing for full coverage. He sat back in a nook surrounded by some telecommunications equipment and the rooftop elevator shaft. They were both in position, waiting to strike.
"So, Tuu, you've spent the last few weeks imitating a Sublieutenant and with my old unit. What do you think of them?"
"I'm starting to see why the Commander thought it was a good idea to add you to the team. Your reconnaissance training is right on the mark, effective sniper-spotter dynamics, demanding the best shots. Lieutenant Volx really got on your case about losing spotters?"
"It's a bit complex between her and I...we've sorted that out, at least."
"Well, I'm coming around."
Kazak smirked, pausing before responding, "What was your initial impression of me?"
"Why ask now? We've spent all this time going over our old missions together here and there. You've got me as a friend."
"Call me curious," he looked through his binoculars at the street that he could see, no sign of Vult or Hesa yet.
"Suspicious. Then again, I didn't know who you were. Your solo operation back at that substation helped to win me over after you saved the Commander's life. Now? Well, I have to say that you have some talent for this sort of thing. Plus anyone that's willing to operate solo behind enemy lines like you did on Vort really deserves respect."
"Thanks, you got the impressive record yourself for a former Elite sniper. Glad to be working with you."
"Same here, Kazak."
Down below, walking down the street, Hesa broke through over the comms, "You two gushing over your careers or are you watching our backs?"
Tuu looked around, seeing Vult and Hesa approaching in his field of view, "Nope. I have a visual on you both."
"Good, we're headed there now."
Dressed down in what passed for civilian attire belonging to that of drones, Vult led Hesa for the waiting hab-block. Raising his cuff to his face with a squeeze of thumb and finger beneath the leather glove that hid his mechanical hand, he glanced around, ensuring they weren't being watched.
"Comms check, check."
"Loud and clear, Sir," Tuu answered quietly. Even if he was cloaked and hidden from view, announcing his position was a rookie mistake. "Red-2 and Purple-3 in position. Overwatch established."
"Copy, Purple-3. Maintain overwatch."
"Understood, Purple-3 out."
Concluding the transmission, he turned towards Hesa. The pair stopped briefly out-of-view of the street in one of the alleys between the hab-blocks. Despite the month-long operation coming to a head and opportunity smiling upon them, he seemed level-headed and calculated as always. One of many reasons why he was in command.
"Ready?" He asked of the Corporal, taking a moment to unholster his concealed sidearm. A force of habit, he function-checked, ensuring it was loaded and ready for use if need be. Optimistically, his two Marksmen would ensure there be no need of it. "Just stick to your cover and follow my lead. Ghor is paranoid enough as it is, no need to spook him and lose our chance at whoever he's to introduce us to."
Hesa slipped her hand into her modified jacket, drawing the Vortian revolver from its holster. "Ghor won't suspect a thing unless he searches us...that's about my only concern...if we want to try and slip in quietly" She made sure it was loaded as well, and moved her spare cells from pouches in her shoulder rig to an outer pocket. "I'm good to go when you are."
Vult nodded, leaning out of the alley to check for any signs of eavesdropping or being tailed. The streets were largely vacant with the exception of a handful of Irken across the street on their way to or from their assigned duties. The shift change had already taken place, leaving much of the surrounding area unnervingly quiet and feeling void of life.
Taking full advantage of the opportunity provided to move unseen, he led Hesa down the sidewalk for the steps into the hab-block. A massive, multi-story residential complex. One of many identical buildings built over and over again from the same plans. An impressive, if not bland, dreary sight with no variation. Only pure efficiency.
Concrete, stone, and brick. What wasn't Imperial purple or magenta was neutral. Grays and blacks. Depressing. Bleak. Propaganda adorned the walls. Government-mandated postings of doing their assigned tasks or face the consequences. The looming threat of deactivation for disobedience. Deterrence from lost productivity. Fear from rebellion. All of it underlaced with faux nationalistic pride of supporting the Armada abroad. Soldiers just like Vult and his team. Soldiers tasked with finding the most outspoken among them and punish him for it.
He buried the notion for the time being. No matter his personal beliefs or feelings on the matter, he had his orders. The mission came first. He already risked much with what he had done, outright refusing the will of the Tallest would no doubt result in a quickened end for he and his team. He mentally reminded himself he was doing what was best for them beneath the circumstances.
The pair of undercover drones stepped aboard the waiting elevator. No other riders. No one around for that matter. 451 worked the night shift at the manufacturing plant. In theory, there shouldn't be a single Irken present. A logical enough place to hold a clandestine meeting in secrecy.
"50th floor, right?" He queried of Hesa in the lift as the doors slowly closed.
"Yup, room 5045, right at the corner at the left end of the hall once we come out of the elevator." She hit the button, the elevator ascending to the desired floor. It creaked, minimal maintenance to keep it operable. Drones were of the least concern. "Sheesh, I almost think this thing is going to break or something." For some reason, the elevator stopped on the 47th floor. The doors opened to reveal a rather tired drone. She blinked, looking at the two initially before stepping inside and hitting the button for the next floor up.
"Ikveda machines…" she mumbled, holding some money in hand meant for a vending machine, "never work, always have to go up or down a floor." Without so much as even speaking to them, the drone left the elevator on the 48th floor. Hesa seemed to relax visibly once the doors closed. That was a bit of a scare...but it always could've been worse. She quickly regained her composure as they arrived on their floor.
Several lights were out, making for a dimly lit hallway as they advanced. Hesa looking at the various doors before stopping, gesturing to Vult that this was the place.
Maintaining his composure despite the sudden arrival of the stranger that briefly graced their presence, Vult stepped off the elevator with Hesa in tow.
"5043...5044…" he muttered, coming to a stop before a gunmetal-gray door embossed with "5045" in worn, fading black block letters. His remaining hand of flesh and bone lifted, rapping a particular rhythm on the exterior. Two short, one heavy, a pause, two short. Just as Ghor had instructed days before.
Silence. Seconds ticked by, each one feeling longer than the last. Maybe they had the wrong address…
Just as he was about to start asking Hesa questions or determine another approach moving forward, the door's magnetic seal released, sliding open with a hiss. A male, maroon eyes and nothing particular unique about him of average height and build greeted them in grease-stained work attire from the factory. He said nothing, looking between the taller pair of Irken suspiciously.
"We're friends of Ghor." Vult casually implied.
"Says who?" The man challenged.
"Says Sarug."
The man's antenna twitched once before leaning out the door to look down either side of the long corridor. He saw no one. A hand silently gestured for them to enter. Vult obliged, Hesa following. The door closed with a hiss behind them, sealing shut once more. Immediately, the man drew a plasma pistol from the small of his back, unkindly jabbing it into Vult's ribs. Another stepped closer, drawing a bead on Hesa.
"Don't move."
Vult remained composed, keeping his hands visible. He gave a convincing nervous laugh.
"Easy...I'm good. I promise."
The man roughly handled Vult, unkindly rifling around his person. These drones were crafty. Smart, even. Not like the zombie-like masses they had meandered about in the streets and encountered at the diner. The man's impromptu search produced Vult's concealed pistol, yanking it out of the holster with a sneer.
"Good, huh?"
"Says the man equally armed," he pointed out.
"Shut up. Go." He gestured with the muzzle of his weapon. "Sit."
Hesa's hands went up, she half expected this. One of them reached for her, instantly earning him a glare, "Touch me, I'm breaking your hand."
"Shut up," this particular drone seemed too well trained, former Elite possibly… he started patting around Hesa's jacket, pulling the spare revolver cylinders out of her pocket before stopping on her chest pocket. He felt around a bit more, giving her bosom a couple of squeezes. "Oh... oh ikveda…" He backed away, dropping the cylinders.
"Vatac, what's the matter?"
"She-she's-" he already knew how far gone she was. "This is going to get the control brains called down on our heads."
Ghor stepped out of another room, raising a hand. "Nonsense. Relax, Vatac, what sort of Impending Doom survivor are you?"
"One who's not looking to get my off button pressed remotely, Ghor."
"They're fine, Vatac." Ghor turned his attention to the Irken with Vult's pistol, "Hand the man back his weapon. He clearly went through some lengths to get his hands on it."
Hesitant to do so, he begrudgingly did so, moving to hand the sidearm back to Vult, grip first. Slow to not startle these clearly-edgy Irken, Vult accepted it to place back in its holster concealed beneath his attire.
"No harm, no foul. To be expected," Vult reasoned, playing up his ignorance as best he could. "I assure you we're like-minded. At least you got to serve the Empire." He gestured to his stub of a right antenna stalk. "I was injured during training on Devastis and was regulated to Drone status...all because I'm missing part of my antenna. Doesn't really sound fair, does it?"
"No, no it doesn't. You should try being me." Vatac sighed, "I was with the first wave onto Praxxus years ago during the first Impending Doom. My entire company and the two surrounding us were wiped out, even overrun by the Vortians. I don't know how...but I managed to walk the three kliks back to our lines and made it there right as the priority one message to retreat went out...even the docs didn't know how I did it." The man gestured to his back, "Severely damaged my spine thanks to shrapnel. The doctors said I would never walk again. I was sure I was going to be deactivated, or simply shot for being useless."
"How are you still here?" Hesa interjected with a question.
"I was lucky enough to have medics who cared...and ironically some gizmo Trooper who gave them the idea for prosthetics to replace the vertebrae damaged beyond repair. Wouldn't be walking if it wasn't for him. Needless to say the Armada threw me out for my injuries, attaching to my record cowardice, just because I survived. Can you believe that?" He huffed, clearly frustrated with his position. "The question is, how are you still here?"
"I, uh-long story."
"Out of sight, out of mind," Vult followed up, ironically referring to their own subtle arts. "We're foodservice drones. Even lower than those working in the plants."
"Never seen a Foodie taller than me," Vatac huffed, still unconvinced. "You reek of Imperial Internal Affairs."
"Only thing I reek of is fry grease," Vult cheekily answered much to his dismay. "He wouldn't have invited us here if he felt it unsafe, right?"
"Yeah, I guess," the former Elite huffed in frustration as Ghor took a seat across from Vult. The plant supervisor gestured for Hesa to come over, which she did after picking up her revolver cylinders and pocketing them once more.
"First, my apologies for Vatac. He's an excellent man to have in hand. Not often I can recruit a military veteran, after all. I'm sure my boss will be extremely pleased."
"Your...boss?" Vult queried, perplexed. "I was led to believe you were the one in charge of all of this."
"Is that a problem?" Vatac pressed.
"No, no, no problem, just clearing the air is all." Vult assured, looking back to Ghor. "Look...I never finished training. I didn't get to be a soldier. I left Devastis and came straight to Irk. All I have seen is Irk. All I have done is food service. All I am allowed to do is food service."
"What about her?"
"She's on borrowed time. Isn't that obvious? Any sane person wants to continue living, no matter the circumstance. My servitude is driving me mad and lingering under the threat of deactivation for her is motivation enough to seek you out. We want to do our part. Be a part of this."
Ghor nodded, seeing the situation in front of him, exactly what Vult and Hesa wanted them to see. "Yes, I completely understand where you're coming from. I think we can use the both of you. You have some training, from what Keba told me before, she never got to pass her training thanks to that power outage. Could use more people with some decent handling of a rifle when the time comes." He stopped looking at a nearby clock. Right on schedule a few knocks at the door.
Vatac opened it after getting the proper pass phrases, a rather well dressed Irken stepped inside, and rather tall no less. Not quite to the level of Grimm or the Tallest, but definitely up there with Aero. The former Elite went to attention out of respect but didn't salute. He clearly wasn't military, but he was important, someone rather high up in government, clad in light blue clothing styled similarly to the Tallest themselves.
Ghor rose, "Allow me to introduce my superior in the movement-"
Vult watched with curiosity as Vatac allowed this stranger entrance. He wasn't expecting someone so tall. The uniform belonged to that of the administrative types...governance...this movement extended well beyond the lowly drones if that were the case. The implications and possibilities ran wild in the Commander's head as he remained passive on the exterior.
The tall Irken male gracefully strode in, the door locking behind him. Pristine white gloves were tugged off of his hands, pocketed in his coat as he surveyed the two potential initiates. Fair-skinned, a pale green, and ruby-red eyes.
"...Administrator," Vult played up his shock, blue eyes wide as he rose to pay his respect to the man of greater height. A long-fingered hand came out, halting him with the gesture.
"That is not necessary. We do not acknowledge height here. Not in that regard." He explained, his dialect clear, concise, and educated. "Ghor has spoken of you two in great detail over the past several days. Xorn and Keba, was it?"
"That's right," Vult nodded, hearing his cover's name.
"Excellent." He smiled, smoothing out his well-pressed coat. He did not offer his own introduction, nor alluded to avoiding it all together. This man was crafty. "If I may, how did you two come to know of the...movement?"
Hesa spoke up after sitting when this Administrator stopped them. "I overheard a few of your drones muttering in the diner, cleaning the next table over. I warned them that the walls had antennas...but I liked what they were saying. We talked a bit, until my superior yelled at me for slacking and threatening me with deactivation. They came back a few days later, I introduced Xorn to them, and here we are now." Just as she described what happened in a nutshell. Not that she had to fake any of that, it was entirely truthful.
"I see…" he mused at this parcel of information, tapping his chin before looking to Ghor. "It would be who of you to remind those involved to be more discreet. While I am eager to see more antenna leant to the cause, Keba is very right...the walls do have antenna and like to listen in."
The Administrator paused, looking to Vult.
"Is that not right, Xorn?"
He nodded, not allowing his own suspicions to arise.
"That's right."
"Kazak, you got a shot?"
"Yeah," the two snipers talked over the comms, apparently becoming rather chummy over their time together. "Multiple contacts, they're armed."
"Any way we can line it up?"
"Not unless two of them stand conveniently in a row. We hold for now, keep observing. I'd rather get Vult and Hesa out alive."
"Copy that."
Vatac meanwhile, looked to the administrator then went towards the window, looking outside. Tuu and Kazak could easily take him and Ghor out, leaving the administrator for them to deal with on the ground, but that would be much too dramatic. They needed the low profile. The two snipers held their fire for now, waiting for the moment to present itself.
Hesa stayed calm as she could, "I have to admit, I'm surprised to see someone as tall as you here and willing to give up power. It's rather...uncharacteristic of taller Irken I've met, no offense."
"You flatter," The administrator smiled at her. "I don't view it as giving up power, but rather...allowing opportunity for others. This...caste system the Empire operates on based solely on height is, frankly, idiodic. Imagine a system of nepotism, rotten and corrupted to the point of collapse...and you have the Empire."
"Nepotism?" Vult queried, curious.
"Ah, yes, I forgot...nepotism is the act of allowing personal ties and networking be the selective force in placing individuals into positions of authority and power. Instead of it being one's relatives or friends...it is whoever stands the tallest among their peers." He clarified.
"I see...so you're promoting...equality?"
Of sorts, yes. Our species was once something magnificent. Something great pride could be taken in. Not the manufactured type our leaders and the systems that bind us you see plastered across every visible surface and indoctrinated with every waking hour. No, real pride. Honor. Integrity. Heritage. History...tell me, Xorn...what do you know of our people's history?"
"Only that we are a proud race of warriors who unified beneath a common banner and took to the stars. We now set to spread that destiny across every planet and species." Vult all but regurgitated what was taught on Devastis.
"No, no, not that. Our actual history. The time before that. Before we were space-faring. Before the intervention of commonplace technology."
"Not much, I'm afraid." He honestly spoke. This was more up Corr's alley. "What relevance does that play now?"
"Much...for like-minded men and women during those times would come together, just as we are now, for similar reasons. To oppose injustice. To oppose tyranny. To protect the innocent...all these things are viewed as treason or weakness now...but is it not ironic that the powers that be are the ones telling you this?"
"Sir, get this guy near a window so I can shut him up." Tuu sneered with a hiss through their discreet comms.
Kazak, meanwhile, seemed more curious from his position...so much so that he even pulled his finger off the trigger. Something spoke to him that this administrator was saying. He wanted to hear more. "Tuu, did you forget the other armed guys? They'll be dead before they even draw. Cool it."
"So, you're some sort of secret society," Hesa spoke up, "I've kinda got the idea that you were a secret group. But...are you really trying to plan a revolution with this?"
Vatac narrowed his eyes, "I told you they were IA."
"Vatac, relax, she's clearly intuitive," Ghor spoke up, "he would not reveal himself like this if he did not know better."
The Administrator gave a small laugh. Despite how tense his colleagues were being, he remained relaxed. Aloof, even. Vult's instincts were telling him something was off. The whole situation stank but this particularly smelled awful.
"...can't be too secretive if we found out about them," Vult played off in similar tone.
"True, very true," Their host smiled in good nature. "...and revolution? You humble me, really...this movement is in its infancy. I am simply seeking out like-minded individuals to formulate an approach that will not result in mass deactivation for those involved."
"A logical approach," Vult acknowledged, already mentally playing out possible scenarios. It was only a matter of time before the supersonic crack and bolt of energy was going to pierce the window and find its target. He needed to be ready to leap into action and deal with Ghor and Vatac.
"Quite," The Administrator mused, rising from his seat. "Are you two thirsty? Water? Juice?" He began to make for the kitchen where the beverages resided.
"I've got movement," Tuu commented, adjusting his posture in preparation, safety off on his rifle. "Soon as he stops, I'm taking the shot."
The tall Irken man entered the kitchen, visible from both angles through the windows.
"Wait." Vult hurriedly spoke, much to the group's confusion. A command not meant for them. He played it off. "...actually, I will take you up on that offer."
Tuu audibly growled in frustration as he released the tension of his trigger.
"Wonderful...what will it be?"
"Water is fine."
"Of course," their host continued, acquiring two glasses for his guests, back to them both. "I always try to be a gracious host. I want you to be comfortable. At ease. Feel welcome...but..I feel it rude and forthcoming of me."
"Why is that?"
"It's rude to start serving until all the guests have arrived."
"Guests? There are others coming?" Vult pursued, somewhat confused.
"Of course, you thought it was only we three?" He presented Vult with his requested refreshment before sampling his own. "Your friends, Sergeant Tuu and Lieutenant Kazak. Will they not be joining us?"
Vult's blood froze in his veins, heart stopping and dropping into his spooch despite the stonily set exterior.
"I...don't know who you speak of. You may have me confused for someone else," Vult casually reasoned, trying to avoid suspicion. "I don't know a Tuu or Kazak, let alone soldiers. Soldiers don't associate with trainee washouts."
"Maybe I do have you mistaken for someone else...or maybe you are not as clever as you think you are." He left hang with a small hint of foreboding threat.
Vatac blinked, "Sir?"
Kazak on his own end blinked in shock. He swallowed, still looking through his scope. "Tuu, I think we've been made."
Hesa was also going to play to the denial...but this really started to eat at her. "Who are you? Really?"
Ghor smirked, "I've already been filled in as to who you are, Commander Vult. You as well, Corporal Hesa. I must admit, this is a first for me talking to someone who's been deactivated by the Control Brains and lived to tell the tale."
Vatac recognized the name from other Elites he talked to, holstering his pistol. "Wait, Vult, formerly of the Elites Vult? The same one that was at Praxxus? Some of my friends served under you. They credit your leadership with helping to get them out of there alive."
"And so we can now tell Vatac that the Administrator already knows who these two are, but they do not know who we are."
Vult weighed his options. These people knew who they were. Knew of Kazak and Tuu. They knew a lot. A lot of sensitive information that not very many were made privy to. While the two marksmen could provide support, their line of sight was not without obstacles. Only fractions of the angles provided were viable. That still left the two of them against the three Irken present, all of whom he assumed were armed based on their rightful paranoia and brandishing of weapons upon their arrival.
The Administrator remained relaxed despite the growing tension, sampling his drink.
"Your silence speaks volumes, Commander," he pursued. "Are we to continue this charade or would you like to have the plethora of questions you likely have answered?"
Vult glanced to Hesa before returning his attention back to the man of the hour.
"...if you know who we are and why we've come, you'll know I just saved your life."
"To which I am most grateful, but that is neither here nor there." He summarized. "I've known about you and your team's meddling for some time now."
"Then why risk so much despite knowing that?" Vult took his turn to ask questions, wary of his hands staying far away from his pistol.
"Morbid curiosity," the Administrator admitted with a sly grin. "You...are a very interesting specimen. An oddity among our kind. Even before you were given great leeway with your current...station, you are of a rare stock of character among Irken. You placed the needs of the many ahead of your own. Precisely, your men beneath your command. Twice now you've been to Vort beneath the maelstrom of fire and flames. You are no stranger to battle and the misery, death, and destruction that comes with it. Very few officers of the Armada avoid collateral damage or unnecessary losses in the manner you conduct yourself."
The blue-eyed male stood there, hanging on every syllable for some tell or inclination as to how he came to acquire such knowledge. An administrative taskmaster certainly had more authority than a lowly drone...but their security clearance never approached that of Spec Ops...and even they were unable to access this information without severe consequences.
"However flattering that is, you assume much." Vult settled for, keeping an eye on Ghor and Vatac.
The Administrator laughed.
"Maybe...or maybe it concerns you greatly. I know so much about you and you so little of me. You're not used to being in this situation, are you? Veteran and survivor of Impending Doom I, Irken Elite Lieutenant declared KIA shortly after the Priority One withdraw from Praxxus 7 who took on the mantle of a ghost of vengeance. A man, short only in stature, receiving the rank of Commander, and tasked with forming a small unit to operate with the utmost secrecy and at the beck and call of the highest authority in the Empire - the Almighty Tallest themselves. A man who, narrowly avoiding death at the hands of an Invader in all but title due to bad intelligence, continued to lead his men from the front across multiple assignments on Vort."
He paused, sipping his drink to wet his throat once more.
"...most of all...a man who has systematically been deviating further and further away from the "mold of perfection" that is the Imperial soldier. Young Corporal Hesa here was recovered from Sub Zero Station on Vort in the Shalashaska Mountains some weeks ago on an assignment that should have left none breathing and the facility cleansed of all witnesses...but you have been playing host to not one, but two Vortians aboard your vessel."
"Doctor Turb'Zharic and Tarxiarchos Kiara'Zharic, if I recall correctly," Ghor interjected, the man rested a plasma SMG across his lap after sitting back down out of view of the snipers, more firepower than a simple drone could get their hands on without help. These guys were connected...
"So, if you know who we are…" Hesa spoke up, "and you haven't killed us, much less called the local cops…" She looked right at the Administrator. "You either want something from us or you want to recruit us. If you know so much, tell me, what have we done lately? Not to mention, point out our friends, if you're so omnipotent into our goings on."
The tall Irken man did not immediately speak, but instead drew a datapad from his PAK.
"Apologies...I don't quite have all of their names memorized yet...but your current roster sits as one Commander Vult, Captain Corr, Lieutenant Kazak, Lieutenant Volx, Medical Officer Sula, Navigation Officer Rem, First Sergeant Aero, Sergeant Tuu, Sergeant Haxx, Communications Specialist Vard, Corporal Rha, and Corporal Hesa...and curiously enough…"
He paused, looking over the device at Vult in uncomfortable silence.
"...a large majority of you are showing up as deactivated as it is...both of you being among them, but here we are, having a conversation about it. Strange."
Kazak lowered his rifle hearing that a large number of them were deactivated, yet they were having a conversation. "Vult, what's this about a majority of the team being deactivated?"
Hesa gulped, but Tuu was next on the line, "Sir, what is he talking about? He can't be right, can he? You guys can't be deactivated if you're still here." He was irritated, growing angrier by the second, "I'm taking him out."
"Tuu, no-" Kazak interjected over the comms, "You shoot, they're dead. They're outgunned. You want to explain to Corr how you got them killed?"
"You hearing what he's saying?!"
"I know, all we can do is sit here and watch helplessly...we don't have any good solutions, at all…"
As the snipers talked among themselves, Hesa's jaw dropped, "Anything more than that. Did you also have where we were staying bugged?" She asked, seeing as how he seemed to know a good deal. "Which also leaves me wondering, who are you and what do you want from us?"
"I did not. There was no need to." He simply stated. "Why risk detection with reliance on archaic means?"
"Then how did you gain access to Level 9 intelligence?" Vult pointedly spoke, growing tired of the allusions and games. "Not even an Administrator overseeing the management of Drones has clearance that high."
"Who said I was an Administrator?"
"What angle are you playing? Why risk death to get my attention?"
"There is no "angle", Commander...only that you and I share...much in common and we can benefit one another."
"By aiding you and committing treason."
"You speak as if you are innocent yourself...do you have any idea how difficult it is to redirect and spoof deactivation orders?"
"What? Who's deactivation orders?"
"Why, yours, of course. The Control Brains are very much aware of your...activities as of lately."
"Wait, wait, whoa. Maybe that explains the others, but I was part of that whole group that got knocked off back when we failed to take the substation. How am I still here unless Doctor Zharic's codes actually work?"
Kazak was just about to yell at Hesa over the mic when Tuu did so in his stead. "Will you keep your mouth shut?!"
The mysterious stranger only smiled, leaning back as he steepled his hands in realization.
"Ahhh...so that explains the Vortian prisoners and why they are still in your custody...but I speak of times before recently. The wounds you sustained at Tak's hands," He gestured to the stubby antenna and his hidden right hand. "Seeing as our response to casualties is to simply make more, you no longer were combat effective, ergo, a liability. That deactivation order was countermanded."
"By you?" Vult cut to the chase. "You have access to information not many do, it would not surprise me if you were capable."
"Something of that nature."
"Why?"
"To the point, aren't we?"
"I don't have the patience for games or tempting fate. I was sent here to assassinate whoever was leading this underground movement, not have a conversation with them."
"Fair enough." The man sighed, folding his hands in his lap. "Ghor...Vatac...if you would be so kind as to give us some privacy."
Vatac looked to the Administrator with some concern, "Sir, are you sure about that?"
"Of course he's sure, if they were going to shoot him they would have done it already." Ghor responded as he stood up and walked over to the windows, looking to the nearby buildings. "By the way, Commander, tell your snipers they may want to stand down. You never know who might be watching them." He left it at that, no further detail, before walking out with Vatac, leaving the three Irken alone in the room."
Kazak, on his end, simply sighed and set his rifle down, switching to his binoculars. "Tuu, stand down, switch to observation mode."
"But-"
"Will you trust me on this?"
"...All right, standing down. I don't like this one bit though."
Vult watched as the two other members of...whatever this was slowly take their leave. Whoever this "Administrator" was held clout among them. They trusted him. Traits recognized in a leader by one experienced in leading. Though, his motives were still left to question.
The taller Irken waited until the door locked behind them before addressing the Commander once more.
"Now that we have a little bit of privacy, I would ask you to do the same."
"Not a chance."
"Do you not trust me?"
"I trust myself and my team. I don't know you, so no, I don't trust you."
"I assure you I am not your enemy."
"Orders stand to disagree."
"Your activities aboard your vessel as of recently stand to disagree with your stance."
"You should be worried more about yourself than me." Vult pointedly spoke, smoothly drawing the sidearm and leveling it off at the seated man.
He did not react in fear or panic. Rather...disappointment best summarized his expression.
"I was beginning to think you were cut of a different cloth...maybe I was wrong, after all."
"Stop speaking in circles. Why the interest in me? The interest in my team? Our activity? How? To what ends? What is your goal? Your endgame?"
"Simple questions with not so simple answers, I'm afraid. It appears I won't have the time or opportunity to explain myself or them to you, but I can summarize." He offered with a shrug. "...the ends you are going to for your unit, to protect them and give them a life they deserve free of persecution...I seek that for our entire species."
"Revolution." Vult called it what it was somewhat coldly.
"Revolution is a little too strong of a term, more...revival. A reawakening. A renaissance. A reminder of who and what we once were as a species. Our identity that was unjustly taken from us."
Hesa listened, her sidearm remaining holstered. She waited, considered a different path in her mind. This...this was an interesting proposition… "So what you're saying is you want everyone free? You want to give us the allowance to make our own decisions and choose our own path? Not one picked out for us by the Control Brains? You want to give us everything we had...who knows how long ago?"
Tuu sneered at his end of the comms, "Yeah, and we're reliant on the PAK for survival. How's this big head gonna go about that?"
"You know, the same thing that happened to Hesa?" Kazak responded.
"And do that spread out without attracting a mass deactivation before that? Nuh-uh. I don't buy it."
"Precisely...and the fact that I still draw breath is evidence enough the weight my words carry. Deep down, you agree with me. I can see it. Sense it."
"Enough." Vult ordered, reaffirming his grip on his weapon as he took aim. "I have my orders."
"I know you do. I anticipated this outcome." The Administrator cryptically spoke, slowly reaching for one of his coat pockets.
"Not one more inch." Vult warned with lethal intent. "I'll put a bolt right between your eyes you so much as sneeze the wrong way."
"Relax, Commander...I have something to give you. Nothing nefarious, I assure you." He spoke, methodically reaching into his chest pocket to produce a data disk. "A token of consideration...for your time. Take it. I know how much your team enjoys decrypting intelligence, after all." He smugly smiled.
Vult snatched the device from his hand, keeping him held at gunpoint with the other.
"I'm joking, of course...Captain Corr may find that information quite...interesting. I know I did."
"I'm sure he will."
"Indeed...so what is to become of me, hmm?"
"You already know."
"I do. To be expected."
"You never answered my question."
"Which one?"
"Your name."
"Oh, right," He smiled. "...Byte."
"So, if you knew this was going to happen, why did you come?" Hesa asked, seeming surprised that such a man would decide to walk to his own death like this. What point would it serve for his mission. "What's more, if we kill you, and what you say is true, who or what is going to save Kazak, Tuu, Rem, and Rha from getting knocked off?"
"Tuu, you got a visual on those other two?"
"No. Don't tell me you lost them."
"If I did, so did you."
"Vodeta…"
"Because, Hesa...the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Our people's future is far more valuable than the life of one man...something Vult is very intimate with if I were to wager." Byte spoke with subdued confidence, unwavering. "No sacrifice too great for a man willing to risk everything for the love of his brothers and sisters."
"...you anticipated this outcome?" Vult earnestly queried.
"I did...I needed to make contact with you...and doing so in person limited the possibility of interference or eavesdropping. You did not disappoint...but...we mustn't linger. Complete your mission, be on your way."
He outstretched his hands to either side, looking up at the man with the pistol pointed at him.
Hesa finally drew her Vortian revolver, anticipating a need to fight their way out. "Are the others going to be okay? If you've been the one keeping them alive, are they going to survive a possibility of getting hit by the control brains?"
Kazak's spooch formed into a knot, realizing he was staring down the barrel of a gun he couldn't even see. He wanted to know the answer to this, but he had to focus on another task for the moment. "Tuu, keep an eye out, I'm shifting positions."
"Where, Kazak?"
"Two roofs over, see if I can't get a bead."
"Got it." With that response, Kazak went on the run, sprinting like mad, trying to find the remaining two Irken so he can help Vult and Hesa if needed.
"Your men needn't worry," Byte assured Vult, noting their dispositions. Both of these operatives appeared shifty. Anxious, even. They expected the wrath of many to come down on their heads the moment either of them pulled a trigger on him.
"Expecting the worst has kept us alive thus far." Vult disagreed, breathing deeply to calm his racing heart.
"Very true...now…" The taller Irken gestured towards his person with his outstretched hands. "Be done with it. Be on your way."
"Why are you so eager to die?"
Byte chuckled.
"Eager? Maybe...as I said...all will be explained in due time."
"Hard to speak with a new hole in your face to talk out of."
"Vult, he's right," Hesa kept an eye on the door Ghor and Vatac left from earlier, "we don't exactly have time to waste here. What if there's an assault team on the way up to take us out? This revolver's great, but it's hard to deal with multiple targets without a machine gun, or at least a rifle."
"No one else is coming, I assure you," Byte addressed Hesa's concerns. Both of them were clearly on-edge. Paranoid even. Rightfully so after having their cover blown and entire recent history of the utmost secrecy regurgitated back at them. "At least...none are planned to, that is. I cannot control what Imperial Internal Affairs does should you overstay your welcome on our homeworld." He concluded with a noncommittal shrug.
The blue-eyed Irken recently made free of the Control Brain's omnipotence did not immediately react or respond. His exterior was difficult to read. Purposely so. Internally, he was a roiling mess of uncertainty. Every question this supposed Administrator answered only presented two more in its place. How was he so well connection to know every tiny iota of intelligence pertaining to him and his team? Only a select handful of individuals in the entire universe had access to such information and he shouldn't have been one of them.
Byte's expression soured to one of impatience in the uncomfortable, stifling silence.
"Well? Are you to complete your mission or need I do it for you?"
Vult growled, a rare slip of his normally placid surface as his grip tightened on his weapon.
"Why are you so eager to die? Are you compromised? You seek a quickened end instead of whatever terrible fate that awaits a traitor?"
"Ironic coming from the man who has done the same, if not far worse...you delude yourself into thinking yourself loyal to the Empire, Commander...but that delusion has its uses. Now...I cannot say more on the matter. Either do as your handlers instructed and maintain whatever semblance of "loyalty" you still possess or risk the worst befalling those you care so dearly about."
He paused, his expression hardening as he focused on the Commander.
"Pull the trigger. Now."
Vult hesitated, reaffirming his grip with a flex of his fingers. His jaw set tight, teeth clenched in agitation. The way this man spoke, the parts of his mind and memories he tugged at with his words...no one rattled a special operations soldier and veteran of many months of brutal warfare like this before. He had so many questions demanding answers, screaming for them...and the one to share was aloof and demanding death at his hands.
"Do it. DO IT NOW!" Byte finally exclaimed, growing tired of his inaction. He made to stand to his feet as if to lunge for Vult.
Instinct and training kicked in. Target acquired. Target fast approaching. Threat impending. Neutralize. His trigger finger went to work, the plasma pistol firmly clasped in his hand sounded off. One, two, three times. Abdomen, chest, head. Byte's body collapsed and fell face-first to the floor at his Vult's feet, unmoving.
The smell of burnt ozone filled the poorly-ventilated apartment...and hot metal? Burning plastic? The walls stopped the plasma bolts from penetrating further, but left carbon scoring and nothing else.
"What...the...Irk…" He muttered, leaning down closer for inspection.
His confusion was answered with more questions as his attention drifted to Byte's body. His exit wounds were clearly defined...no flesh...no blood...the source of the odd smells as he saw...circuitry...wires...artificial, synthetic muscle fibers fraying and melted. A construct. A manufactured body void of organic material.
A huff and shake of his head finally came through as he holstered his still-cooling weapon.
"A machine…" Vult commented, looking to Hesa. "No wonder why he was so eager to "die"...he was never actually here or in danger."
Before his mind raced down another path of "what ifs" and why this was all happening to him now, Vult commed the other half of the operation likely beside themselves in anticipation. What was he to tell them? How was he to explain this? Was this mission successful? Did he share the truth or keep them in the dark for the time being? Both of them were still beneath the Control Brain's long reach.
"Overwatch…" He began, standing up straight as he sifted in his pockets for a small datapad, immediately snapping a series of photographs for Vard to review and maybe explain just what was going on. "Target down. Torch and burn, prep for extraction. ETA to rendezvous, 15 minutes."
"Copy, boss," Kazak noted with a pause as he made his way out and jumped a roof to head back to the location he's been sharing with Tuu, "Should be able to catch a ride to Devastis, leaves in forty five minutes, we can catch it." He jumped, pulling himself onto the balcony of the penthouse. "And Vult, I really want to know what in the blazes is going on and how he knew so much." The Lieutenant slung his rifle over his shoulder and walked inside to pack his equipment.
Vult stopped himself from immediately snapping at Kazak as he keyed his mic to respond.
"Maintain radio silence and do not discuss this over comms. There's a time and place for it. Now isn't it. You have your orders. We'll rendezvous shortly. Vult out."
He looked to Hesa, closing the channel.
"I know you are likely as confused as I am right now about all of this, but it's time to go. Back to work...just like we talked about earlier." His tone softened towards the end in reference to the arrangement decided between them and the sheets prior to this ill-fated meeting. "Move out before IIA starts snooping around."
"Right," Hesa backed out of the room, scanning the hall for hostiles before stepping out, slipping her revolver back into a shoulder holster and zipping up her jacket. "All clear, let's go."
Kazak only grimaced as he packed his things, Corr doing the same, though opting to stay in his armor rather than change into a uniform. "Kazak, what gives?"
"What?"
"You calling me off back there? I had a clean shot. Could've been done with this sooner."
"And have Hesa and Vult scorched to slag?"
"You could've taken one of the drones."
"Unknowns, Tuu, potential ambush forces. Look, there wasn't anything we could've done that wouldn't have put them in some immediate danger. I would prefer we don't get casualties on Irk of all places." He stopped to take a breath, "Look, there's plenty of reason to be pissed. Let's go, we can talk about this with Vult later."
"Yeah...right, still have to get out of here and catch our ride." The two marksmen cleared out the penthouse and left, meeting up with Vult and Hesa before heading back to the spaceport to hop on a shuttle bound to Devastis...a shuttle that showed a rare condition on the Empire's flight schedules: Delayed.
Kazak looked at the message on the flight schedule and only blinked. "Well...that's a first."
The trek from the habitation block to meet up with the rest of the team planetside on Irk was uneventful. No one was the wiser. Drones went about their predetermined days with the same lack of enthusiasm and general apathy bordering on depression likely offset by PAK programming. The very same blight that Byte spoke of...or his construct in his place did...so much left to unpack mentally and most of it he wasn't sure to share with the rest of the team so openly. How did things end up so convoluted and complicated so quickly?
Nevertheless, Vult and Hesa made the timetable without incident. A less-than-pleased Tuu and Kazak awaited their arrival before boarding the first shuttle bound for Devastis. A delayed shuttle...something that never happened as far as Vult could remember. Inbound and outbound itineraries from Irk never deviated. It only made him wonder just what was happening on the Empire's largest military outpost in the universe...and the state of affairs of the rest of the team dispatched to investigate. Intuition unfortunately pointed to the delay being a result of the Priority One directive sent initially. The issues persisted. Troubling. Most troubling.