Chapter 3 - Mercenarius
September 2nd, 2544 (04:01 Hours – Military Calendar)
Ulterin System, Miridem
Matin Province, Continent of Vitre
5 Kilometers West of Provincial Capital of New Memphis
:********:
The drive down the highway was mostly quiet save for the sounds of the battle raging in New Memphis. The convoy of a half-a-dozen troop carrier Warthogs drove with all lights off except for their dimmed headlights. That way the enemy aircraft flying overhead wouldn't pay them too much attention. Even 5 kilometers away and the city was still dangerously in sight, meaning that 1st platoon would have to make it the last two kilometers to their destination in near complete darkness.
The void of the predawn hid away the night's terrors which revealed themselves in the shadows that streaked past the stars, the whine of propulsion and jet engines, and the occasional ball of fire that erupted above. The Covenant were mostly toning back their attack, likely readying to renew the assault in the morning. That gave the ODSTs a small window within which to reach one of the region's largest military manufacturing plants: their newest objective.
Earlier in the day they had managed to get Yuri back to Montague square. It had been close, but he'd gotten to the medics in time for them to save his life. They got to work right away removing the cooled spikes and sealing his wounds with the tissue regenerative polymer; biofoam. They also had to get him on a handheld respirator and sent him to a field hospital occupied by the 211th's 3rd Battalion further east. Until he was able again, if at all, Squad Epsilon would have to do without its resident hothead.
Around midnight, Lieutenant Colonel Garrison had received an urgent mission request from the commander in charge of ground operations around New Memphis. A materials production site belonging to the local branch of Misriah Armory needed assistance evacuating its assets off world. Those assets included the supplies required for the war effort as well as the machinery used to construct them. While a completely plausible strategy given the current situation on the planet, it was simultaneously a sign of bad faith and a sadly understandable one at that. It showed that even the weapon's production company knew any planet's days were numbered the moment the first Covenant ship slipped into the system, no matter how strongly defended. Sure, there had been exceptions to the rule like Arcadia, one of the rare victories for the UNSC early on. But it had been more than a decade since 2531, and there was a comparatively larger number of glassed colonies to make the case that what happened at Arcadia was merely an anomaly.
To answer the mission, Garrison had decided to spare 1st platoon. The premise was that he was giving them one of his best platoons, quality, while not sacrificing too much from his overall manpower, quantity. Duncan learned it was often the reason why they got picked for special assignments even before he'd joined up.
They borrowed a few Warthogs from 1st Battalion and got underway after stocking up on munitions. Now, sitting in the passenger seat of one of the Hogs, Duncan snuck a glance at the ammo-counter on his rifle and hoped he had enough for however long this mission would last. Hector had the wheel next to him, focused on the road.
"Hey guys, get this." Zack said, leaning over from his seat in the troop section. Duncan ducked to keep his radio antenna from poking the back of his head.
"I've been going through a few channels on SATCOM to piece together what happened before we got here, right? Turns out that the 12th and 15th Fleets arrived about a day after the initial report that the Covies were here. When they did, they found the Ulterin Defense Fleet, or what was left of them. It wasn't pretty."
"How many?" Hector asked.
"Just four ships, four, out of sixty."
Hector gave a low whistle.
"I know right." Zack sat back down. "This whole thing was going to hell before we even got here. I don't even have a clue how the 12th and 15th managed to slug it out in space for this long, probably using hit-and-run tactics until our QRF showed up."
"Maybe the fight's just that tough." Duncan suggested.
Zack shook his head. "The thing about that is there was only one Covenant fleet. It was just 40 ships. And they're going toe-to-toe with 'three' of our fleets after taking out Ulterin's Home Defense. That's more than triple their number, but somehow we're the ones having a hard time of it in the east. That's crazy, man."
He turned to the man sitting next to him. "What do you think?"
Duncan couldn't help looking into the rear-view mirror at who he was talking to. Since the Saint Adelemus Hospital, Deaks had mostly kept to himself. He'd been unusually quiet. Duncan thought about how he'd almost ignored the Staff's orders outright to take out his meat cleaver, affectionately named Silver Buddha, and get to work on the Brute's corpse. Then at the last second, he'd chosen to leave the body alone. For anyone else, that would've been a sign of a healthy human mind, but in this case, it gave Duncan and everyone else a cause for concern.
Deaks simply shrugged. "Losing three ships to their one, that's just the way of it."
"So what? You're saying we should be happy that they're not glassing us already?"
"…Yeah, pretty much."
"So optimistic." Nova commented from the other side of the troop section.
Deaks turned to her. "Hey, listen, I'm no optimist, I'm a realist, alright?"
"You're like a sociopathic tiger on most days yet you're acting like a neutered kitten right now." Nova said it more as a fact than an opinion. The analogy was a little weird but everyone knew where she was going with it. "What's wrong with you?"
Deaks exhaled, focusing more on the incoming tree-line less than a kilometer ahead. "I'm worried about Match, okay. Let's leave it at that."
"You and I both know Matchstick isn't going anywhere. You can't be someone as reckless as him and not come close to death more than once. He's been through worse and made it out alright. So, don't try lying to me, because I'll know."
The Staff who'd been sitting on the sidelines next to her broke from his half-nap to look at Deaks. "What is it, Ep-3?"
Deaks sat there for a while, thinking to himself. At length he waved a dismissive hand at them. "It's nothing. No worries."
The Staff watched him for a moment longer. "I hope so. We don't need anyone distracted on this go-round. Clear heads get the job done, and you know asset protection means we'll need eyes up. If anyone else' got any other concerns, voice them now or hold your peace."
Across team comm nobody said anything, so that was that. Duncan decided to keep his worries to himself. If Yuri had survived worse than maybe the Russian would actually turn out to be fine.
Then the mental image of his own picture with Fireteam Charlie flashed through his mind. It was brief, but slow enough for him to see everyone's faces. Everyone's.
He found himself taking out his rock from Harvest again and toying around with it one-handed. For reasons he didn't quite understand, he decided to hold the rock over the passing road for several seconds. He turned his hand from side to side to cause it to roll around in his gauntleted palm, but never let it get too close to the edge. A slight bump in the road made him immediately slide the childhood memento back into his pocket.
A growing number of Pine trees and Douglas Firs started showing up on either side of the convoy as they pressed down the highway. Hills began to appear, rising up all around them. The hilly outskirts of New Memphis were alive with chirping crickets. From what Duncan could gather, it was Spring season on Miridem. It never ceased to amaze him the way that nature seemed to carry on unaffected while fighting raged on the planet. Then he remembered the future of said nature rested squarely on who won that fight. If the UNSC took home the win, nature would continue its aloof course beside human affairs. However, for obvious reasons, it wouldn't be so if the Covenant won. He'd grown to understand that everything was tied together in a pact of mutually assured destruction. His high-school biology teachers' lessons about nature were wrong. As it turned out, the circle of life was more of a triangle, and humans were at the top, for better or worse.
The forest became denser after five more minutes and another kilometer had passed, then abruptly gave way to a lengthy concrete wall that towered a full 10 meters above the road. It ran from one end of the visible horizon to the next. Two gatehouses manned either side of a metal door leading inside.
A squad of several MPs stood watch. The convoy came to a stop outside the gate and two of them strolled over to Captain Harper's lead Hog.
"You guys the ODST escort?" one asked.
"Do we look like we could be anything else?" Harper asked snidely.
The man laughed a little. "No mam, but with the way things are going, wouldn't be surprised if you were pizza delivery. Everyone gets an armed escort these days." He waved at the gatehouses. "Let'em through!"
A moment later the metal door slid apart and the convoy carried on. Unlike what they'd expected, there were no buildings or structures yet. Only more trees. It was another half-a-kilometer before they came to another wall.
This time the MPs at the checkpoint let them pass without stopping them. Another 100 meters along and they found themselves approaching a series of large complexes. They arrived once they passed the third gate.
The La Grotte Manufacturing and Storage Grounds were a series of sprawling structures, networking roads and connective railways. Nine Weapon's Assembly buildings took up the bulk of the space. Their multi-levels, glass windows and circular architecture reminded Duncan more of Roman Colosseums with domed roofs. They marked off the outer boundaries of the La Grotte with three to the north and three to south with the largest one marking off the western boundary. Everything in between was an organized mazework of Shipping Departments, Office Buildings and a private nuclear power plant that occupied the heart of the grounds, fueling the goings-on across the site.
1st Platoon headed for the opposite end of the facility. Doing so forced them to face the flood of traffic that seemed to clog the arteries of the La Grotte like a heart-attack in the making.
Caravans of delivery trucks ladened with crates zoomed about, either stopping to have workers, dressed in olive-drab overalls, frantically load up more crates or driving off to make a delivery. The roadway was alive with vehicles and site-staff that lugged around materials baring Misriah's personal branding: three pairs of segmented wings surrounding two central diamond-shapes. The scene resembled a recently stepped-on ant colony. Larger shadows swung overhead as dozens of towering cranes pivoted against the backdrop of a stary sky. They picked up the larger storage containers and lay them onto the waiting flatbeds of tractor trailers. The ODSTs had to avoid running into more than one hulking 18-wheeler on their way through.
They came to the heart of the vehicular madness. The delivery trucks and trailers all piled up into a stagnant jam near the entrance of an L-shaped building. Even at a distance they could make out the sign on top: 'Transit Station'.
Several squads of MPs moved about directing traffic where they could. One of them, a Sergeant by the number of chevrons on his shoulder, came up to Harper's Hog. "ODSTs?"
Harper nodded.
"Park here and follow me. The Assistant Manager's waiting." He pointed over to a nearby sidewalk.
Harper had them pull in and they dismounted, following the Sergeant through the clogged roadways.
The entrance to the transit station was occupied with three trailers offloading their charges to workers that hauled them inside on gurneys. The Sergeant led the troopers in their wake. They were momentarily surprised as the dark exterior gave way to a well-lit interior. It was a kind of reception room with smooth marble flooring, lounges and wall-mounted displays. Waypoint was on, and from what Duncan could tell, it was a blonde-haired female pundit commenting on Miridem. As they passed by, he glimpsed a clip of what the woman described as the situation in the eastern hemisphere. It wasn't a pretty sight. Multiple camera angles showed at least four different cities that lay desolate and burning. The perpetrators showed themselves in the sharkish Covenant Battlecruisers and the Manta Ray-like Heavy Cruisers that hovered in the smoggy skies above.
"Think Delta and Echo are still holding up over there?" Zack asked, glancing at the feed.
"Listen." The Staff said. "I know you weren't with us then, but if you saw what Delta and Echo survived at New Constantinople, you'd think twice about doubting their chances out there. I wouldn't worry too much about those guys, or Alpha for that matter."
"Whatever you say, Staff." Zack said, although still uncertain.
The Sergeant led them over to a series of escalators leading to one descending level after another. Workers moved on larger escalators adjacent to theirs meant to accommodate for the various sizes of cargo that they transported.
They passed several levels until they came to a stop in a corridor labeled Level 'K'. As they were led around the corner, they spotted several men conversing in the hallway. All of them were MPs save one. He wore a distinguishable suit, had a portly figure, a scraggly goatee and graying hair. His attention flickered over to them. He excused himself from the earlier conversation and approached, nodding off to the Sergeant in thanks.
"I hope I'm not wrong in assuming that you're 1st Platoon?"
Harper shrugged. "We're the first ones here, aren't we, sir?"
Duncan spotted the nametag on his jacket that read 'Assistant Manager'. The man seemed to catch the humor but stayed business-like. He gave a curt bow of his head. "I'm Assistant Manager Roman, it's a pleasure." He offered his hand. The Captain took it and shook.
"Captain Harper. These are my troopers. You called for us, sir?"
Roman nodded. "Follow me please, I can explain everything along the way."
He'd already started turning to walk when Harper questioned, "Along the way to where?"
He stopped to face her again. "Oh, right, the tram station on level O. It'll be easier to give you the rundown now, then give you the…finer details personally if that's okay with you, Captain."
Finer details? Duncan wondered what he meant by that. The Captain didn't appear as curious, or perhaps she was better at hiding it than he was and nodded for them to carry on.
They headed down another set of escalators. Along the way, the assistant manager spoke up. "I'll be frank since frankly you'd know the situation outside even better than me. I'm sure you've already noticed that we're getting our supplies off of Miridem before a certain threat moves from the east to us here in the west. We want to preemptively evacuate our assets off world. I'm sure it needs no explaining how valuable the cargo is that we're moving."
They stepped off at a level labeled 'N' and got on to a final escalator. "That said, I'm sure you've already pieced together the part you'll be playing in this mis-"
Harper cut in. "My guess is that you want us running security for a sub-level tram you've got operational down here to get those goods from the La Grotte to a private Starport."
Roman winced and glanced at the Captain whose face he couldn't see behind her polarized visor. Everyone could see his, however. It was obvious by his flushed expression that he hadn't expected her to be right on the money. "Y-yes. That's…our exact intention."
Duncan imagined the Captain with a self-satisfied smile on her face.
Roman continued. "However, it's not so simple." They stepped down off the escalator to what appeared to be the last floor.
Duncan had wondered what he meant by 'not so simple' when his attention locked onto the space immediately in front of them. An arched ceiling held overhead lights that cast the tram station beneath in a metallic glow. The space was comprised of two opposite sides divided by a furrow along which an electrified, magnetic rail ran. A silver tram extended from one end of the furrow to the next, waiting for them, as were the thirty or so armed individuals standing guard around it.
They sported a kind of battle-dressing that seemed more suited for 25th century warfare. They wore tactical ballistic vests, torso-paddings along with arm and shin-guards. They appeared like shadows in the way their black coloring blended with the silhouettes of the room's support columns. Duncan couldn't spot any identifiable UNSC insignia on their shoulders. Yet they had an insignia, all of them: two arrowheads, one inverted and phased over the other to form a stylistic letter 'A'. Though he'd never seen it before himself, he figured the others had, that is, until the Captain spoke up.
"Who are they?"
The other group, whoever they were, looked like they had the same question. Some notably tensed at seeing the ODSTs. It showed in the way their grasp on the handles of their MA37s and DMRs tightened. While they didn't show any signs of immediate hostility, Duncan spotted movement out the corner of his eye and saw Deaks' hand sliding slowly towards his M6. Rico did the same thing by holding the back of his neck two-handed to make it seem like he was relaxed. All the while his fingers secretly hooked into the trigger of the grenade launcher on his back. Duncan noticed similar subtleties by the others, save for the Staff, Joels and of course the Captain. The three veterans looked to be outrightly sizing up the group without making any moves for their weapons.
Roman must have sensed the growing tension and stepped between the two groups like a peacemaking arbiter. "Captain Harper allow me to introduce you to Captain Stewards. He and his men will be assisting you on this mission." He gestured to Harper as well as another man in geared armor. The two strode towards the other, allowing the troopers to get a good look of the leader.
Captain Stewards was a visually unassuming man at average height and decent build. He had the air of discipline and simultaneous lack thereof in the way his caramel hair was buzzcut to near military regulation length and slicked back. At the same time his beard looked like it couldn't decide between being scraggly and well-combed. He had sleepy eyes that seemed to emanate with more suspicion than fatigue. Still, he greeted Harper with an honest-looking smile.
But that wasn't all that Duncan noticed about him. He also noticed the way he felt about the man. He sensed his finger unconsciously flex across his rifle's trigger guard. He couldn't articulate the reasoning with words, but something told him, almost screaming in the back of his mind that he needed to kill this man, and to kill him right here and right now or he would live to regret it.
Despite trying his best to suppress the urge, it wouldn't leave him alone. It was like an unexplained understanding of a situation that a person felt at rare points in life, a certainty that a specific action needed to be taken then and there. He chalked it up as his nerves being worn out by hours of sleeplessness and combat and ignored it.
The man held out his hand to Harper.
"Nice to meet you, Stewards." Harper said, shaking his hand in turn. "I'm Captain Harper of Bravo Company, 1st Platoon."
"Nice to meet you as well Captain." Stewards spoke with the grace of an aspiring gentlemen. "These are my guys here. We're Aegis Material Acquisition and Defensive Delivery Services, or AMADDS for short. I'm looking forward to working with you and your troopers."
:********:
From what Harper could gather, it was nothing short of a miracle that the AMADDS hadn't been utterly wiped out yet.
Minutes earlier, Roman had invited her and Stewards into a side-room with an available holotank for them to explain the mission's 'finer details' to her. They gave her a walkthrough using a projection of the tram-station.
The La Grotte's private tram was being used to transport their assets to the Vers L'avant Starport about 10 kilometers southwest of the facility. Their plan was to use its subterranean route as protection. The company didn't want to risk attacks from Covenant aircraft within the region.
There was only one problem. Essentially, the original magnetic railway they'd planned to use was cut off. A Seraph bombing run had caused a cave-in on the first day of the attack. The only way to the Starport now was through a bypass inside of a public tram station that lay between New Memphis and a nearby town. But that route was dangerous for various reasons.
Harper examined the holographic display's depiction of the 'North Camden' station. What immediately struck her were the many holes in the ceiling and debris within close proximity of the rail. If stealth was the goal then using the station was a tactical nightmare. It was far too exposed to the elements, and since the area around it had been evacuated and abandoned, there was no telling what might show up there during a given transit. Still, somehow the AMADDS had made it work for the last few days without incident.
The blockage had forced the hand of the management staff at the La Grotte. They'd hired on the AMADDS as professional help for the last 2 days. Even then, whether the motivation was the paranoia of possible loss or something else entirely, they decided to contact the UNSC for more security.
Despite whatever their reasonings were, Harper couldn't bring herself to understand why they brought in the delivery services personnel. As the war raged in the early 2530s, paramilitary and mercenary-for-hire groups sprung up across the outer-colonies out of locals' fear that the UNSC couldn't protect them all. It was a fear that sadly panned out to be well founded. That didn't make it wise, however, not in this situation.
Since the renewed armament's deal made 9 months ago, AMG Transport Dynamics, Sinoviet Heavy Machinery and Misriah Armory were effectively in the pockets of the UNSC, producing materials almost solely for the war effort on HIGHCOM's proverbial dime. Why then would they use personnel from the private sector unaffiliated with the UNSC to transport those materials? Why hadn't Misriah contacted them first for aid and only called the UNSC for help as a secondary consideration? The possible answers didn't bode well with her at all.
Roman finished up. "We estimate that the total evacuation of La Grotte won't take any longer than 3 days so you'll be able to return to your unit shortly after."
Harper, with her helmet off, nodded with her hands on her hips. "I get why you want to use the route. But I can't advise it. The station is simply too vulnerable. It's easily the most dangerous part of the entire trip."
Roman and Stewards looked at each other. At length, Roman asked. "Do you have any other recommendations then?"
"Yes. On my way here, I saw a number of 18-wheelers across the site. We could easily use them to mount a nighttime convoy system between the La Grotte and Vers L'avant Starport. That way we still have the cover of night while also transporting more materials. It would decrease the evacuation's time projection and limit the window that the Covenant have of finding you here with your pants down."
Roman looked slightly taken aback. Harper saw a small, amused smile cross Stewards' face. She was secretly keeping track of his reactions, trying to gauge what kind of person he was. So far, he hadn't done more than look suspicious of her while somehow looking inconspicuous at the same time.
"We…considered that." Roman said. "It's a sound strategy. The only problem is-"
"They got smoked, which is why we're here." Stewards said, his sleepy yet faintly alert expression never wavering.
"Y-yes. We tried a convoy system at night. However, we lost that convoy, along with the bulk of our original security forces embarked. We believe the Covenant aircraft detected their thermal signatures through the large amount of engine exhaust they gave off. Which is why we brought on the AMADDS and now you and your soldiers for this mission."
Harper considered it for a moment, pinching the bridge of her nose. These new facts had thrown a serious wrench into things. She still didn't like the idea of using the tram but what other choice was there? One was less of a security risk than the other and she could tell it wasn't the one she favored. Moreover, she wasn't about to risk losing her entire platoon just to prove she was right. There was a chance that they could send smaller convoys to reduce their thermal signatures and give them a better chance of survival. Then again, that would consume about the same amount of time as using the tram. Either way, there was no getting around it.
"I understand." She sighed. "Camden North it is, huh?"
"Its our best option." Stewards assured. "Unless you've got any new inspiration for us?"
Though he'd said it respectfully, Harper could sense the mocking undertones beneath. She decided to ignore it. It was just one mission. They could get it done in a few days then be back with the rest of Bravo. Go in, deliver the goods, come back and do it again.
She shook her head. "You're good."
"Are there any other questions you may want answered, mam?" Roman asked.
"Yeah." She gave a long exhale. "When do we start?"
:********:
For Duncan, the ride to the North Camden station wasn't so bad. It was more of a fight to stave off boredom due to the lack of any external visuals beyond the windows of his compartment. The underground railway was pitch black. The only cue he had to reason that they were actually moving was the gentle rurring of the MagLev train as it glided over the magnetized tracks at 400 kilometers per hour. The constant sound and vibration beneath his feet vaguely reminded him of a cat purring.
10 minutes earlier they'd disembarked from the station after the tram's 12 storage compartments were filled to capacity with cargo crates. Because of their larger numbers, the AMADDS had taken their positions at the three forward passenger compartments as well as the three in the middle. 1st Platoon was saddled with the trio of rear passenger compartments. They occupied the wall-mounted seats, occasionally peeking out the window at the passing darkness as they waited to reach the station.
Nova and Hector were busy walking from compartment to compartment. Since they'd left the La Grotte, the two went about opening up non-vital components to get an idea of how the whole 'magnetic levitation' thing worked.
"Just don't cause us to crash." The Staff warned from his seat, already half-asleep.
The two assured him he had no reason to worry then went on a spree of investigating side-panels with the same wonder of two kids checking out insects with a magnifying glass.
"It's definitely electromagnetism." Nova noted as she looked over the mechanical organs of a removed floor-panel. "New Alexandria's got a few of these too."
Hector thought it over. "Then how did they make it into an organized system since magnets are pulling and pushing constantly? Wouldn't the currents cancel each other out, requiring some sort of thruster mechanics to compensate?"
"Nah. See, electromagnets are only magnetic when an electric current flows through them. From what I've figured out, this tram uses magnetic repulsion and not attraction like some others. How it works is the magnets on top of the guideway are oriented to repel similar poles of magnets in the bottom of the maglev. All the conductor has to do is control the alternating currents so they can quickly change their pull and push poles."
"And that lets them keep propelling the tram forward." Hector said, finishing the thought.
"Bingo."
Hector whistled at the exposed conduits. "I swear, its things like this that make me wonder if I took the wrong job."
"Same." The two-fist bumped and closed the panel back.
Zack sat on a nearby seat and shook his head at them. "Vehicle Junkies."
"Don't knock it till you try it." Nova replied. "You might be a grease-monkey in the making yourself."
The radiomen chuckled. "Doubt it." He stood up and grabbed one of the handrails when the Captain spoke over comms.
"1-Actual to 1st, we're arriving at North Camden in 40 seconds. Grab your gear and be ready to move. We're jumping out with the AMADDS to make sure the area's clear. Once they've handled the manual override, we're out of there."
The ODSTs winked their acknowledgement lights including the Staff who, despite all appearances of taking a nap, was wide-awake. Duncan wondered if he ever went to sleep or if he was always alert, like a coiled cobra ready to strike at a moment's notice.
They could feel the tram start to slow.
The Staff grunted as he pulled himself onto his feet. "You heard the Captain, eyes up."
In a few seconds, the vibrations beneath their feet noiselessly came to a halt. The troopers were already at the doors when they slid open. The sight that greeted them was less than welcoming.
Starlight streamed unchallenged through several large holes in the ceiling almost twenty meters overhead. It was the only light that illuminated the otherwise dark void they found themselves in. They activated their VISR modes which drew out the dilapidated reception room in green highlights. The station itself was on the left side of the tram and appeared to have been the sight of a raging firestorm, probably courtesy of the plasma charges dropped here days ago. Burned chairs were turned over and scorch marks on the room's ten major support pillars paid testament to the destruction.
Squads Epsilon and Eagle slowly fanned out across the boarding platform and took up defensive positions close to the vulnerable storage compartments. Several squads of AMADDS did the same further along the tram. So did others on the opposite side who moved out with Squad Echo across the lower space near the rail.
"Watch those shadows." The Staff ordered.
Duncan swept his targeting rifle across the reception room, scanning the isles of discarded chairs and as far as the several staircases leading back to the surface. Nothing moved.
They had to wait while Captain Stewards reached the manual junction lever that would give the tram a 1-minute window to switch tracks before it automatically snapped back into place. He glanced over at the two separate tunnel exits ahead. One of them was filled to the brim with debris. The other, however, was still operational.
He spotted Stewards further along the platform. The Captain and one of his men were using their bodyweight to push a vertical lever across its fulcrum.
Duncan was secretly thankful that whatever murderous urge had come over him earlier wasn't there this time. He was still concerned about it, but more so from the angle of his mental health. He'd thought he had developed a hardier stomach for his line of work since the Molnar Bombing. The others were no strangers to years spent on the frontlines yet they were sane, mostly. He quietly hoped he stayed with it like they did, for his own sake and theirs.
There was a loud crack followed by the slow clumping sound of interlocking gears in motion as Stewards moved the lever into place. The grinding sound of the rails shifting came a second later.
"Alright people, let's head back inside." Harper said.
The troopers back-pedaled into their compartments. The AMADDS did the same with a level of professionalism that, for some reason or another, unnerved Duncan.
The troopers breathed easy once the doors closed. No one realized how tense they'd actually been until they were back inside. There was something about the vulnerability of North Camden station that didn't sit well with anyone. The darkness wasn't a help either, or the fact they would be coming back here constantly over the next three days. Plenty of time and opportunities to get ambushed.
The tram started up again. They felt it twist as it slithered over the juncture and into the adjacent railway, pulling them along the public route and returning them to the featureless darkness of the subterranean realm.
:********:
It took another ten minutes for them to arrive at the Vers L'avant Starport. They knew they had arrived by the way the tram emerged without warning out of the tunnel and onto the surface. The Starport was less than half-a-kilometer away on the far end of a bend in the magnetic rail. It was a large and more open area surrounded by tall pines and fencing. As they got closer, they made out a single terminal building where umbilicals connected to a number of civilian freighters parked on the runway.
They circumvented the bend and came to a fork of boarding platforms where cargo personnel were already waiting to unpack the storage compartments. By then their speed had slowed to allow them to slide smoothly into place. The tram came to a stop with a hiss and the doors slid open. The troopers stepped out into the cool morning air. They observed from the sidelines while the workers got to carrying out the crates, even using a forklift or two for some of the larger containers.
"Those are Bactrian and Parabola-class freighters from the looks of it." Hector remarked, focused on the Starport's ships.
"I thought you were a vehicle guy." Duncan said.
Hector shrugged. "It's that Russki. If you listen to him long enough during some of his rants, you'll actually learn a thing or two. I know, hard to believe, right?"
"I bet he wouldn't mind being here to give one of those things a joy-ride." Rico added. No one said anything else on the topic. They trusted that their comrade would recover alright but didn't want to stay on the issue for too long.
During their quiet vigil, Duncan spotted Stewards coming towards them. He was by himself with his DMR slung casually over his shoulder.
He gave a slight smile, laughingly holding up his hands. "Don't shoot me, okay? I just wanted to tell you guys you were really good out there. I didn't come to say much, just keep it up, alright?"
The compliment felt odd at first hearing it. It sounded genuine, just odd. They were ODSTs after all, 'being good out there' went without saying. The Staff gave him a thumbs up. "Same to you and your guys."
Stewards nodded. He started to walk off when he seemed to remember something. "Pass that on to your Sergeant and Captain for me if you will."
"Will do."
Then Stewards went back, allowing them to maintain their quiet vigil.
"Well that guy's weird." Zack said, again becoming the mouthpiece of the squad's subconscious, saying what everyone else was already thinking.
"So is wearing armor meant for fighting humans and not aliens." The Staff added out of his own observation. "Like everything else about this mission, take anything those guys say with a grain of salt. Understood?"
There was a unified "yes sir" from everyone. Duncan could only wonder why he'd chosen to walk all the way over to them and deliver a message when he could've used his comms. Then he found himself blinking at the first rays of sunlight that came through his visor. The star Ulterin was beginning to crest the western horizon. It was dawn now and the skies were beginning to change from their predawn pink to a regular blue hue.
Nova yawned. "Can we head back now?"
The squad's attention turned to the storage compartments. They were mostly emptied out already, far quicker than anyone had expected. The AMADDS were also heading back into their compartments.
"Ep-1 to 1-Actual, the cargo's looking pretty empty here. Are we in the green?"
"Yeah, lets call it a day." Harper replied.
"Calling it a day, over." Joels quipped.
The Staff pointed to their compartment and they followed him inside. The doors slid shut behind them. There was a hiss then the tram was off again. It rounded a circular section of railway then returned down the way it came.
Everyone sat exhausted in their seats. They stayed awake regardless. Rest would have to come once they got back to the La Grotte, for however long that would be. And they still had to go back through North Camden station. That kept everyone on edge enough to take a lesson from the Staff and keep their eyes cracked open.
Mercenarius – The Hired