The flashbangs make Hale's eyes dart towards where the third hab would be had he a window to see it from. Davis nods, disregarding the concussion grenades' reports. "Regardless of that, you have far more real-world leadership experience than the Keepers do. I - they don't need a bureaucrat, they need someone who has real experience with making hard decisions, and knows how to stay calm in a high-pressure situation, who is level-headed. They need someone like you, Hale. All I ask from you is that you give us a chance to prove what I said, that we're not here to hurt you, that we want to get everyone off this planet safely." Davis pauses. "So, do you want the job?"
Hale smirks. "What would happen if I told you to go to hell?"
Davis returns the friendly smile and shrugs. "I'd have to find someone else. Someone not as qualified, who probably couldn't do the job as well as you could. Maybe...Keeper Shenest, you said?"
---
Under Hugh and Cowboy's watch, Stanhill takes the wounded man outside to check his wounds. It's not life-threatening, he just caught an armful of broken stinger slivers and foamcrete chips when his spray went awry at point-blank range. His myriad tiny wounds make his arm look far worse than it is, but a wave of the kauka and the refugee is escorted to the other prisoners. The other prisoners that had to be taken down hard aren't bad enough to need the alien frisbee.
Come to think of it, Hugh and Angel saw these people get off that manta the other night and they were a mess. In fact, Hugh's pretty sure the refugee lady Cowboy dropped in the doorway was missing her arm before. Yet they haven't seen a kauka, and when the Imperials sent their people out to tend the wounded Turai after the ambush they were toting standard medkits.
Zaef gives the hab a once-over while Cowboy starts to frisk the prisoners. Like the barracks, Hab 3 is a spraycrete-over-metal quickhab, a large single room with a small bathroom that links up near the environmental capsule on the outside. Obviously this hab isn't cleared out; personal effects litter the bunks and small tables where they haven't been knocked to the floor. Pictures of family and small projects to pass the time are amongst the Keepers' detritus. There are four beds here that lack the personal touch - they must be the refugees' sleeping arrangements. A mass of bloodstained sheets and other more proper discarded medical supplies are in a closed bin in the corner.
And then there's Cowboy's weapon search, which proves wildly successful. Every single Keeper, whether in nightclothes or prepared for a potential sprint to the treeline and jungle survival challenge, is toting some small popgun, handlancer, stinger, or blade, and in some cases, multiples thereof. Cowboy finds knives and shivs hidden in spare clothes, under pillows, and in shoes. The refugees show much less initiative; while they are no less armed, they carry their weapons openly. Cowboy collects a Kansat-pattern longlancer (probably carried down from the orbital) as well as four more handguns of various types.
With the prisoners healed, searched, cuffed, and with the others, Hugh's fireteam approaches Hab Two, the last camp outbuilding. This one is slightly wider, with an extended L-shaped addition. It has a double front door and one rear hatch on the right side, where the "L" juts out from the main section of the building.
This time, there's no random gunfire to greet any of you as you prepare to breach and clear the hab.
---
Angel's distracted slightly by Semo coming around and getting to his feet. The sergeant scowls at the tattered state his vest is in, and tries as best he can to adjust his gear so the remaining strap doesn't break. He's got a sewing kit; he just needs a good place to sit and fix his clothes. Specialist Kang's then freed to watch Angel's six (although the platoon of wherren just out of sight should be doing a passable job of that).
---
"Why are you trying to sell me this?" Hale asks Davis. "Why aren't you just putting us in a hab until this is over? Why do you need someone to be your dancing shagrat? You've got the guns, you tell us where to go and what to do. I don't understand, I was just here to keep the natives off-site."
"Two reasons, really," Davis says. "One's purely practical, just sticking all of you in a hab and posting guards outside will just breed discontentment, and the last thing I need is to make the group of people who are already afraid of us and what we're going to do to them even more paranoid and angry at us. Secondly, and more importantly, that's not what we're like, Hale. Sure, you'll be contained to the inside of the camp, and there will be areas that are off-limits, but we believe in treating our prisoners better than that. If we were just going to be here for a few hours, then yeah, that's probably what we'd do. But we're going to be together here for a week or more, and just cramming all of you into a hab, throwing in food and water on occasion, and otherwise just forgetting about you would be cruel and unusual treatment, something that we're not too fond of back on Narsai. Having you, or someone, to represent them would mean that we could address the issues that we can help with, make things better for them."
---
Hugh and Cowboy shout their typical greeting at Hab Two. When that has no effect, two more flashbangs echo through the camp.
Hab Two is apparently the (empty, thank God) rec room and mess, a general-purpose living area. There are a few long tables, a section with softer but still not cushy furniture around a proper holo (not that travel-sized thing back in the barracks), and a full shipchef and workmanlike kitchen. The water supply seems to run underground somewhere, and there's no filtration equipment upstairs to speak of. Zaef recognizes a popular Imperial game left out in mid-turn on one of the tables.
That just leaves... whatever the underground access leads to. There's a heavy storm cellar-type door covering a short staircase down. This door is powered, however, and a code (easily given up and confirmed by a number of prisoners) prompts the door to swing open on creaking servos. The walls, like the habs, are spraycrete, but there's a much more robust framework of supports here. Piles of various containers and supplies are stacked haphazardly in this small entrance hallway; a second door has been left open and leads to what is basically an underground bunker. More containers and equipment, some fairly large, are in here; Hugh figures this is what the Imperials were moving out of the bay to make room for the refugees. A full recycling/filtration system and power management apparatus sit in a more permanent vibration-protected enclosure. Behind them, in a wall sconce, floats a Groi reactor that appears to be feeding the research camp's power needs.
The bunker area of the camp proves not quite as amazing after some quick measurements are taken. It doesn't have the space to grow a Gateway, and it's not large enough to hold all the prisoners. Some of them, certainly, perhaps 8-10 could sleep down there, but there's also the potential for sabotage if any of them were stupid enough to consider messing with the camp's power or water supply.
The camp's cleared and Hugh's team turns their attention to the trail Cowboy spotted near the barracks hab. Luis breaks off to find out what he can about the Keepers' research, while Semo and Kang come in from the treeline. The big sergeant looks much better, and takes up position guarding the prisoners. Meanwhile, Davis and Hale are still in the dome's comms room, having it out.
---
"Did you send the Sheen into the orbitals?" Hale asks Davis point-blank.
"Yeah, I wasn't quite anticipating how...enthusiastic they would be about taking the orbitals," Davis says, scratching the back of his head. "The difference between 'acceptable' and 'unacceptable' targets is something that I will be definitely working on when we get back."
"Why should I believe a single word you said then?" Hale says angrily, taking a reflexive step towards Davis. "There are people down there with wounds no kauka can ever heal!"
"Don't you think I know that?" Davis shoots back. "Goddamnit, that was the last thing that I wanted to happen. The Sheen are listening, they are learning, but...that did not go as it was supposed to." He slumps back against the desk. "Trust me, Hale, what happened...it's something that's going to weigh heavily on my mind for a long time. We needed to take the orbitals, but...not that way."
Davis straightens back up. "But we are not the Sheen, and the Sheen are not in charge here, we are," Davis says, taking a step closer. "What Sheen are left in this system are under our command, and if we say that they're going to guard you and look after you, hell, that they're going to pick some fucking flowers for you, they'll do it."
"I'll speak for the prisoners," Hale barks quickly. "If that's what it takes to keep them from you. If you can't control your allies how can I trust your people around mine? If you're serious about this safety scrofashit, step number one is don't even joke about sending an abomination to guard those people. You're sorry about this?" Hale prods Varna's corpse with his foot. "That'll be nothing compared to a Sheen in the camp."
Davis nods. "I will do that. But the Sheen are listening to orders now, and they have strict orders not to fire unless fired upon, and the rest of my people are not interested in the loss of any more lives or causing any more trauma, I promise you that. We have gone to great lengths, and at great personal risk, to try to preserve as many lives in this camp as we can, and I would appreciate it if you kept that in mind, Hale, instead of only choosing to condemn us."
The Imperial looks down at Varna once more, then looks over the comm consoles. "All right," he says grudgingly, "We'll see how it goes then. Maybe when my people come for us I'll take it easy on you."
Davis smiles. "I'd appreciate that." The smile vanishes as quickly as it appeared. "There's more that you need to know, though. We have two Sheen on the planet with us. You said you want us to keep them out of the camp, and I will do that. They seemed bored with the idea of hanging around here, anyway. We also have several Quads of Wherren soldiers that will be joining us in the camp. Can you see that being an issue?"
"No, that's fine. I can explain that to the prisoners, most can understand whiirrsign."
Davis nods. "Good, that's about all I have that you need to know. Mind if I ask a few questions now?"
Hale shrugs. "Fine."
"What do you know about what the Keepers have found here?"
"Ancient junk," he replies. "Broken Gate fragments, some Master shipwreck. It's downstairs. If you want to know, talk to the Keepers."
"Do you know the unlock codes to the console, or the vox channel that Varna was using to talk to...whoever it was that he was talking to while he stalled me for time?"
Hale taps at the vox table, prompting an access fault. "He changed the codes. I don't know what channel he set up, but they were coordinating with the orbital survivors on 439."
"How about the rest of your Quad?" Davis asks. "They seem to have run off into the forest, and if we have to send men after them, and they fire on them, it's not going to end well for either side."
"Probably not."
Davis cocks an eyebrow. "Are you sure? I'm trying to save lives here, not take them, but I can't have the rest of your Quad running around in the jungle, waiting for the right moment to strike. If we have to go after them, they're probably not coming back walking upright."
"You caught my sept with our pants down. The others know the land and know you're coming, but if you're worried about your people, I can try to talk 'em down."
Davis thinks for a moment. "I have a rule in situations like this. You do something to prove you're trustworthy, you get more freedom. I think that goes both ways in this situation, yes? You don't trust me, I don't trust you. We could both stand to give each other a little ground, hm? Make things better for everyone."
"They won't talk to you; they might talk to me." Hale gives Davis the vox channel, though.
Davis thinks for a moment. "I have a rule in situations like this. You do something to prove you're trustworthy, you get more freedom. I think that goes both ways in this situation, yes? You don't trust me, I don't trust you. We could both stand to give each other a little ground, hm? Make things better for everyone."
"You've got the vox channel," Hale says by way of reply.
"And that just lets me talk to them. It doesn't tell me where they are." Davis thinks again. "But that is still a lot. You're right, it is my rules." Davis gets on the radio. "Arketta, could you join us up here?" He looks back at Hale. "Fair's fair. You make first contact, get them talking. If I do that, will you try to get your people to calm down, tell that we are not here to hurt them, that we're going to get them out of here safely if everyone cooperates, get them to stop eyeing my people like they're looking for a place to stick a blade?"
"That's up to them, but I'll do what I can," Hale concedes.
"Holy shit," Arketta says upon entering the comm center. In English: "Make this quick, Davis. Seems like there's more people to watch by the minute down there."
"Just need you to listen to the conversation, make sure he isn't trying to slip anything past us that you know about," Davis replies in English. He sets his vox to the Quad's channel, and hands him the remote, but holds onto the vox unit itself. "It's all yours, Hale."
"Hale to third, aklo seven four. Come in, seven four." He keys the remote again and shrugs. Hale regards Arketta for a moment before adding, "Sorry to make you run up here for nothing, Quis. They must be comms-black. Even if you break Varna's code, they'll have disabled their IFF by now."
"Well, damn. Thanks for trying, Hale, and thanks for coming up here, Arketta." He takes the remote back. "You did what you could. I hope you'll give convincing the others of our real intentions here some thought, anyway."
"Sure, Davis." Arketta cycles the door and heads back down. Hale replies to Davis, "They're going to come for us. If that's all, I believe I have things to explain to your prisoners."
Davis looks Hale in the eyes. "We're not as bad as you think we are, Hale. Give me a chance to prove that."
"It's not me you have to prove it to," Hale ends with a preposition.
---
Cowboy picks up the trail left by the escaping Turai. He, Zaef, and Hugh follow it to the treeline on the southeast corner of the camp, where they meet up with Angel. The Imperials haven't tried to counterattack yet, which means they might have spotted the forty-some wherren during their jungle jaunt. However, if they spotted the wherren, Charlie and Martin would have probably spotted the Turai in return, and you would've known if THAT happened. They could still be watching the camp, which is a worrisome thought, but if that's the case, backup is only meters away. Hugh thinks for a moment, trying to figure out what their plan might be. They're used to having backup on demand, to being top dogs. They probably know the area, but were taken by surprise and probably didn't have a plan for "our camp's been bushwhacked by Narsai". They don't have backup, and they won't know how to deal with that right away. If they're still watching, it's likely just recon at this point, to determine where prisoners are being moved and how many of you there are. They'll still need time to figure out a strategy, which means they might be further back in the woods, somewhere hidden.
Only one way to find out, though. Go in there and get 'em.
Angel takes point and leads the team in a tight column, minimizing the traces they leave in the jungle. The trail left by the Turai circles the clearing counterclockwise and looks like it was heading towards the initial ambush point when they must have seen or heard something to change their mind; the trail changes abruptly and leads further into the wilderness.
---
Meanwhile, in the comm room, Davis retunes his vox to connect to the Sheen. "Hale, one second." He keys down on the vox remote. "Charlie, Martin, you said you two were looking for some action?"
*Why, did you find some?* Davis can't tell which unit replied, but Hale's eyes raise at the response.
"That I did," Davis says. "We have five or six Turai in the jungle, and Captain Verrill is about to take a look-see out there. You two will be taking orders from him, just follow his lead and keep to the rules of engagement we talked about before."
*Fine.* The modulated voice is surly but acquiesces. *But we are going to have a Talk about this when we get back.*
"Good idea," Davis says, and keys off. He tosses Hale a shrug. "Obviously, that will be happening outside of the village." He gets back on the radio. "Captain Verrill, the Sheen are ready to back you up. Give them their orders on vox."
It's the dead of night in the jungle on an alien planet and you'd be completely lost if it wasn't for the faint glow of the research camp's lights behind you and the all-too-audible Sheen rampaging through the undergrowth at a dead sprint well off of your left flank. Angel keeps the fireteam crawling, crouching, and darting along a broken line that never exposes anyone for more than a moment. It also never exposes anyone long enough for them to really confirm they're on the right trail either, but Hugh and Cowboy figure using the Sheen as huge metal hunting dogs should flush out the half-dozen Imperials they're expecting to find.
---
Back at camp, all the prisoners are under guard in the dome maintenance bay. Luis has seen to the few bumps and cuts from Hab 3, and in doing so, has picked up a few names here and there amongst the Keepers. Shenest, a middle-aged woman with piercing eyes and a haughty demeanor, is the ranking researcher at the camp. Hoei's the male Keeper who tried concealing an armory of weaponry in his robes when he ran out to help his wounded comrades. Hale is the bald Rav-Turai that Davis has taken an interest in befriending.
At any rate, Luis investigates the actual dome; not the comms room, not the maintenance bay. Luis opens the outer hatch and steps into a short airlock-style hallway. Fans whirr and vents blow for a few seconds, then an inner hatch clicks over to green. Beyond that hatch is a large chamber with a high ceiling that probably takes up much of the dome. This chamber encapsulates what's left of the Groi shipwreck. The broken Gateways are hung from a ceiling-mounted monotask with clearly-marked danger zones around them. The shipwreck itself has been hooked up to an array of testing equipment. From the looks of things, the equipment's been in place for a while and the Keepers are likely sifting through data. Their computers and cogitators sit backed up to the dividing wall between the dome chamber and the prisoners' bay. Smaller artifacts are laid out on a series of cataloging tables. These probably came from neighboring wherren tribes; many have been painted or otherwise decorated. There's a small break room/office in one corner, a smaller storage closet for more delicate equipment, and a stairwell that leads up to the comms room.
Luis checks the cogitators; unfortunately, they're connected to the comms systems upstairs, which is still locked down by the late Samal Varna. Makes sense; if the Keepers wanted to beam their research back home they'd need the dome's transmitter.
*CONTACT!!!* Martin and Charlie shout over their vox connection to Hugh's team. The attached image feed is just a glimpse; sparse trees thin out near the leeward side of a small rocky hill, overgrown with brush and ferns. The Turai, outlined in red even through their cloaking armor, are advancing towards the Sheen - it's clear both parties were aware of the other, they just didn't know how quickly they'd end up closing. This feed's cut off by a thundering string of explosions that flare bright in the team's nightvision. Spear-bombs, then a mixture of beamer whaps and sustained multiple thumps from the Sheen's larger gunpods echo through the trees.
*Martin's down!* Charlie shouts. He sends another feed; this one shows three Turai taking cover in the mossy rocks, three more spreading out behind trees. The strobing flashes from Charlie's guns pulse in time with your night vision goggles. Charlie's kind enough to vox his location and a rough-scanned map as well, complete with "shoot these fuckers" in bright red over the Imperials' last position. They're not far, just a short sprint away. You can tell by sight where the stumpy hill is.
Davis turns the volume down on his vox. "I think that about does it. Anything else you need from me right now, Hale?"
The Turai shakes his head. "No."
"Alright, if you need anything, if there's any problems, let me know."
"All right. Is that all?" Hale asks.
Davis nods. "Yep, that's about it. Talk to you later, I'm sure."
"You know where I'll be," Hale responds, and turns to head back down to the bay.
Once the door closes behind Hale, Davis gets on the radio frequency for those who stayed behind at the camp. "Luis, what's your location?"
Standing back from the cogitators, Luis says, "I'm having a look around the dome. Pretty nice research setup, but all the computers are locked down tight from the comm center."
"What a coincidence, I'm in the comm center now, and I need someone to crack the control panel," Davis says, looking over the controls. "Varna set it to transmit some kind of message and then locked it down before he checked out. You busy at the moment?"
Luis shakes his head even though he's on the radio. "No, I'm not. Want me to come up there?"
"Yeah, that would be great. The sooner we get control over the systems here, the better. I want the surveillence system up and running again ASAP."
"Got it," Luis says, and heads up to the comm center.
Luis opens the dome stairwell door and deftly steps over Varna's corpse on his way to the console. It's clear the Samal knew his way around electronics, but he also didn't have enough time to make his lockdown irreversible. First step is to isolate the transmitter, and Luis does it the hard way - unlatching the access panels and running bypass fibers into the vox antenna's base. He's immediately able to pipe what Varna was sending into the comm room:
*Samal Varna, ranking Turai at Outpost 13, ID code 446578-GH6, priority message. I am surrendering Outpost 13 to the Talons of the Tainted Mother. Garrett Davis is on-site with at least four Narsai'i and at least six armed natives from village 815, although their actual force must number more than that. They have a molecular forge and reactor and intend to create a Gateway. They claim their goal is to "free" the native wherren from Imperial oversight.*
There's a pause, where you can hear him going into one of his coughing fits.
*There are twelve researchers and an equal number of refugees from the orbital here, in addition to my Quad. I do not have much time,* Varna fades out again, and you can hear him answering one of Davis' questions in the background. *I have instructed the hostages to cooperate while awaiting rescue. Once again, I am surrendering this facility and its personnel to the enemy. Do not respond on this channel. Do not attempt to rendezvous at this outpost. Do not use preset Imperial channels for secure communications. This message repeats.*
Attached with the audio bursts are surveillance captures of the events right after the ambush up to right around when Varna offed himself. It looks like everyone but Semo, Kang, and Angel were caught on surveillance at one point or another. They do not have feeds of the large group of wherren, nor is there any mention of Sheen.
Now that Luis knows what's being transmitted, it's a known quantity he can follow back within the comm system. Varna was good, but Luis hacked the Imperial Palace. The message goes through seven more sequences before Luis is finally able to root the vox console and bypass Varna's security. He has access at last, and from the commotion downstairs it seems like it's just in time.
"I don't care if you DO shoot me! I demand to speak to the person in charge right now!" shrews a middle-aged woman from the bay stairs. Luis recognizes the voice from his brief stint checking the survivors' injuries. That would be Keeper Shenest.
The fireteam advances quickly and quietly until they can just make a clear line of sight to the hill. The tango beamers pulse bright white in night vision, but the Turai themselves are nearly invisible. Hugh counts it off like a band frontman and two grenades sail through the night. At the same time, Cowboy levels his EGLM and thumps a 40mm care package towards the Imperials. Angel breaks right, darting through the underbrush and trying to circle the hill from the other side.
Zaef's grenade makes a heavy wooden thump as it careens off a branch above and detonates off-target. The rebel winces, but Hugh's frag doesn't fare much better. It falls short and sends a plume of smoke, leaves, and branches into the night sky. The rocks absorb Cowboy's grenade instead of the two Turai sheltering there for cover; the Imperials are knocked flat but still appear to be in the fight. The next thing Cowboy realizes is those Turai can see me - he's bracketed by a spray of white lances a heartbeat later. The Texan ducks and dives- POP! - he's hit in the arm just before he throws himself bodily behind a tree. The trunk lights and burns, then explodes. Cowboy rolls to the side and ends up behind the newly-fallen log with a smoking, cratered arm. It's nothing that will stop him from returning fire.
The rest of the Turai, flushed from their cover by the grenades, pull back around the base of the hill. Their withering fire scorches ferns and lights another tree around Charlie. One even gets a lucky shot in on Charlie, but the Sheen tags the offending tango with some kind of explosive round in return. The Turai's carapace ablates and the soldier's knocked prone in what is rapidly becoming a firelit clearing instead of a lush jungle. One Turai turns back and grabs his comrade, but his suppressing fire doesn't faze the machine bearing down on him and his wounded buddy.
That leaves two Turai who didn't get the memo and are still retreating round the hill. Meanwhile, Angel's just about to come round in a great flanking position when he hears these two Turai bearing down on him. He hustles into cover just as the Imperials burst out of the bushes not 10 feet from him.
They stop short and start to backpedal towards whatever cover might be behind them. They've definitely spotted Angel.
Zaef sees an opening and goes for it. In a flurry of motion, he lives up to his Arena name. The two Turai out in the open see this begoggled, camouflaged, space-machete-wielding crazy man jump through the fire that's now spreading from Charlie's missed shots. The Turai who didn't get hit by a Sheen HEAP round in the previous seconds parries just well enough to lose his beamer rifle instead of his hands.
His friend's not so lucky. She's prone and disoriented, and although she tries to get to her feet she's just too slow. Zaef puts a sword through the hole in her armor and twists. The Turai screams and dies.
Past the smoke, fire, and chaos, Angel proves to be slightly more prepared than the two Turai who happened upon his route. For a moment, everything stops. Angel's perfectly calm. He IS the gun, and the perfect dead center snap shot blows through the first Turai's helmet. The Delta casually fires again, ripping a spurting lethal wound through the second Imperial's neck. She falls back and writhes, not quite as dead as her very dead friend. She might even get around to reaching her stinger and firing some last-ditch shots from hell's heart before she bleeds out.
Back at the camp, a few minutes before
---
"I don't care if you DO shoot me! I demand to speak to the person in charge right now!" shrews a middle-aged woman from the bay stairs. Luis recognizes the voice from his brief stint checking the survivors' injuries. That would be Keeper Shenest.
Davis looks over his shoulder at the stairwell. "We good to go? I'm gonna let her in if we are."
Luis looks up from the console he's been working at. "Yeah, we're fine. I've gotten access."
Davis walks over to the door, opens it up and sticks his head out. "It's fine, let her up," he shouts down. Keeper Shenest clomps her way up the stairwell and into the comm room. She spares Varna a glance and then looks at Davis and Luis. Her eyes are direct, her posture indicates she is used to being in charge. It's not a military-style of "in charge", but maybe something like a principal. Yes. Shenest gives the impression of being a thin, middle-aged, severe schoolteacher.
"Who is in charge here, you people or the Sheen?" Shenest demands more than asks.
"That would be me, Keeper Shenest," Davis says, and takes a step towards her, hand extended to shake. "Garrett Davis, pleased to make your aquaintance."
Shenest returns the handshake. "The Rav-Turai told us what you told him. No offense to Hale, and I understand the instinct of going to a military officer first, but he is a grunt. Furthermore, as your civilian-to-military ratio among your prisoners is heavily weighted in favor of the civilians and scientists, I believe you should be speaking to me in the future."
Davis crosses his arms and nods. "Hm. Well, do you think Hale will do a poor job of communicating your needs? That he'll put the Turai ahead of the civilians?" Davis asks.
Shenest pauses for a second, then carefully says, "No... but if I am liason, prisoner-in-charge, whatever you want to call it, well, I know that I will not do those things. The people here are not part of your war. I would be asking you to let us go - Hale said you had no real use for us - except that this is the only such outpost on the planet, and even if there was somewhere else, you blew up our only means of transport. You have a molecular forge, do you not?" she suddenly asks.
Davis nods. "Yes, we do."
"See, this is what I'm talking about. I understand that your overall plan is to create a Gateway using the fragments of the homeworld Gates in our facility. What I want is to have that Gate dialed out to a location of our choosing and myself and the other prisoners sent through before you engage in whatever insurrection you have planned." Shenest takes a step towards Luis. "You're the medicae. Hrm! And you've compromised whatever security Varna set up before he spinked out. You all are apparently not just here to blow up things and meddle with native species."
"Helping the Wherren and making them aware of how they've been used is our primary goal here. Getting our Gate produced is part of that. Blowing up things isn't on the goals list, it just happens has to happen sometimes," Luis says.
Shenest frowns in confusion. "So you're going to feed these ancient priceless finds into an equally ancient and priceless alien machine. I wish I could convince you otherwise," she laments. "Do you know that just one day - maybe even a matter of minutes - could have resulted in none of our paths crossing? You, me, the wherren, this planet? These artifacts concern you as much as it does us; after all, we're the same species. Where are you going to build this Gate, anyway? Out in the open? Inside the dome chamber? In the bay where your hostages are?"
"Well, if you have any alternatives, or maybe a more efficient and quicker way to build the Gate, I'd be glad to hear it," Davis says. "The quicker we finish the gate, the faster we can all get out of here. As for its location, we will have to move you all into the dome and possibly into the underground chamber, if it's too tight in there for all of you to fit."
"It's a good plan, if you need the Gate quickly," Shenest admits.
"And I think you know why we can't just dial you all to a location of your choosing," Davis says. "The Imperium would immediately see the code for the Gate, and the Wherren would lose their safe haven. If nothing else, you will all have to spend a short time on Narsai while we figure out a safe way for you to return." He pauses. "If the Imperium will have you back at all. The hardliners that are in power might be more interested in causing you harm than we are."
"I liked you better when you avoided your silly propaganda," Shenest replies in the manner that one might scold a child for taking a cookie. "Besides, we're scientists, not soldiers."
"True, true," Davis says. "Say, what's the bounty on Hethna Varos' head at these days? He was a Keeper just like you, and look what happened to him."
Shenest's smile is cold. "It's ironic then that they gave me his position here. So your plan for us is to cart us all off to Narsai, let the Imperium think we've all been turned, and then offer us a Gate home, knowing we'll march to our deaths or worse if we take you up on your 'promise'? I see how technically you wouldn't be lying, maybe that worked on Varos."
"No, Keeper Shenest, if you want us to shout to the whole Cortex that you stoically withstood being our prisoner but never gave an inch, then we'll do that," Davis says. "If the Imperium will take you back, sending you back unharmed and not mistreated is proof enough of our intentions. It'd be nice if you went back and said as such, but I know that's probably asking a bit much. But think of what will benefit the Imperium more, a group of Imperial citizens who surrendered to Narsai'i, were held captive but were treated kindly, fairly, and were returned well-fed and well-treated?" His smile takes on an identical frosty edge as Shenest's. "Or the Imperium claiming that you were beaten, starved and abused, then killed at the hands of the barbaric Narsai'i? Do you want to bet on the Imperium putting your lives ahead of their propaganda?"
Davis and Luis see the wheels turning, and catch just a microsecond of panic in the Keeper's demeanor. She gives Varna a second, longer glance and curls her mouth into a satisfied smile. "I almost understand now why he killed himself," she says by way of reply. "You're absolutely right, of course. Our government would happily murder all of us to show the worlds that you are a monster worth fighting. Narsai may be worth seeing," Shenest muses. "The camp is yours. Why have you not brought in the forge - or this force of wherren Hale mentioned you had? You are wasting time."
"Perimeter security concerns," Davis says. "Should be cleared up shortly. Bringing them in peacefully would have been preferable, of course, but they made their choice."
In answer to Davis, a cavalcade of distant explosions and gunfire echoes over the camp as Hugh's team makes vicious contact with the Turai. "I see," Shenest says. "I would like to see the forge at some point. Also, many of my team have research they would like to close down properly rather than leaving dangling bits and such."
"Shouldn't be a problem, if Luis can isolate the reseach terminals from the vox broadcaster," Davis says. "Can you do that?" he asks Luis.
Luis nods, "Should be able to. If we don't need use of it, I can just disconnect it entirely from the network, and if we do I can hook it to a seperate system, one of our units or something. If they're going to be doing some work down there, could I volunteer to help keep guard? I'm interested in seeing what you've found. This site fascinated me the first time we were here."
Davis smiles. "How about it, Shenest? We should have enough guards soon enough, he might even be able to help out."
She peers at Luis, although it's not clear what exactly she might be looking for, then nods. "Of course. In the unlikely case that our government kills us all, it would be nice for what we've learned here to survive somewhere." She spins back around to face Davis. "When can we start? I'd like to get my people working and their minds off their predicament."
"As soon as things have settled in more around here and we have the Gateway forge in place," Davis says. "Oh, and Shenest? I'd appreciate it if you brought your needs up through Hale next time, or at least brought him with you."
"Very well," Shenest agrees, "Let my team know when we can access our systems." She nods to Luis. "We'll talk once we're less fettered." Shenest keys the bay door and heads downstairs. As Shenest leaves, Luis gets back to work on the vox console, working on cutting the transmitter out of the main network and leaving it on a seperate system. It's simple work once Luis compartmentalizes the dome's consoles, but it is time-consuming and will keep him up in the comm room, fiddling with the antenna hardware as well as the computer security, for.... he estimates another 30 or 40 minutes.
Hugh starts pumping out particle beams, slagging the rocks and charring the moss and leaves the Turai are sheltering in. Cowboy uses the opening to bail from his burning cover and slide up next to a freshly-made stump, where he opens up on the Turai's unprotected flank. One Imperial spins to deal with the new threat and catches a particle beam in the shoulder. The explosion of metal and flesh spins him back the other way just in time to get riddled with 7.62mm armor-piercing rounds. That Turai drops forward out of cover and starts making gurgling screams that quickly change over into simple gurgling.
The last Turai in the rocks leaves a split-second before Charlie obliterates what's left of the hill with an accelerator burst. The HEAP rounds shred the dying Turai and obscure the other Imperial for a moment. That tango fires wildly at everyone shooting at him - most of the dozen or so shots fly wide, but Charlie takes another sizzling hit that doesn't appear to bother the war machine. Cowboy chases the fleeing Turai with the rest of his mag - he sees 2 spangs of glancing hits flare bright in his goggles, then a dark puff that stumbles the Turai. Hugh exhales and takes the guy's helmet off a moment later.
Cowboy and Hugh's bullets and beams whip past Zaef and his opponent. The Turai draws his stinger with one hand and spins around Zaef's left side. Zaef keeps the stinger at bay but catches the Turai's elbow with the back of his head. He gurks in surprise and pain, then replies in his own particular style. Zaef's Turai hits the ground a moment later missing both hands and screaming. Zaef kicks him in the face and knocks him out. The Imperial geysers blood in blessed silence.
Meanwhile, the one Turai that Angel downed but didn't quite kill isn't reaching for her stinger - she's reaching for a kauka. It causes more blood to spurt from her neck, but she takes her other hand from her wound and weakly holds it palm out towards Angel in a gesture of surrender.
And with that, the battle's over. Zaef and Angel's Turai might be able to be saved, if you moved quickly. Cowboy's hurt but it's not bad. The remaining four Turai are dead as Dillinger. Charlie's crouched (?) near Martin's ragged shell with an array of tiny manipulator arms in the downed Sheen's innards. Finally, two of Martin's limbs twitch and enter a startup routine. It shakily gets up and surveys the burning, smoky clearing.
Shenest rejoins the other prisoners and quickly weaves her way close to Hale, who is sitting on the floor with two of his Turai watching what he can of the camp. Arketta and Kang keep watch from the outside, while Swims stands guard by the comm room stairwell. He is given his personal space.
"We need to talk," Shenest whispers to Hale. The Rav-Turai moves over and the Keeper sits down. "I spoke with Davis. We cannot afford to wait for a rescue that may not come in time. We need to rescue ourselves and we need to do it now."
Hale's eyebrow raises. "That's funny, I spoke to him too and did not come away with the urge to throw myself - or anyone else here - into the Narsai guns."
Shenest rolls her eyes. "That's exactly my point. The Narsai aren't monsters, they're not what the Emperor claims they are. But think what will happen if we are released back to our people? The Imperium needs to maintain Narsai's image for its people, and I would not put it past them to... keep up appearances."
A few of the prisoners have shuffled around slightly to hear better. One of the Turai strikes up a conversation with a few other refugees closer to Swims as cover. Meanwhile, Hale shakes his head at Shenest's words. "Our government is not going to kill us just to use us as some example for the ravilars. Listen to me. My job is to protect you and everyone else here, but I can't do that if you are running off half-cocked with thoughts of some foolish prison break. The other soldiers on-planet know we are held here and they know the Narsai can't leave this place until their Gate is finished. When they strike - and they WILL strike - then, and only then, do we make a move. Anything else is suicide."
"Waiting is suicide!" Shenest hisses back. She quickly calms again and resumes in her low whisper, "They are short a bunch of people. We are all together here, now. They may have wherren backing them up, but they will be too late. The one Narsai, Luis, he's cracked Varna's encryption already. The vox is open. We can storm the comm room and take their people hostage, broadcast to the ones outside to drop their weapons. They're trying to keep us alive, it's not their nature to just shoot us. We have the advantage right now, Hale, but if we wait then it will be too late. We can do something about it NOW."
A few murmurs are going through the prisoners now. It seems Shenest's plan of taking their fate in their own hands is resonating.
"They aren't trying to keep us alive," Hale spits back. "They said they have no use for us. Davis got into your head, made you confused. I'm not worried about Davis. I'm worried about the others. The others who blew up the manta - and her two pilots. Who wiped out our drones and one of my men, who only stopped shooting because we were beaten. We are a known quantity to them. We need our guys outside to throw chaos into the situation and give us a chance to strike from the inside."
"Davis didn't confuse me," Shenest replies. "He made me see that if we don't try to escape, we will be killed by our own people. It's the logical thing for them to do. The Narsai'i may have no use for us, but the Imperium doesn't care. I'm no traitor, I'm just speaking the truth. I'll never join the Narsai like my predecessor-"
"On that we are agreed," Hale redundantly agrees.
"So the only option is to fight," Shenest concludes.
"Agreed," Hale whispers. "But not yet."
Shenest won't hear it. "It's a sad day when the two highest-ranking Turai on this planet won't lift a finger to fight. At least Varna kept his honor. You're just a coward." Hale sighs sadly and gets up, still looking out at the camp and trying not to draw too much attention. "We don't need Hale to do this," the Keeper continues, this time raising her voice enough to draw in the other prisoners. "The Turai didn't keep us from being captured, and they won't save us now."
Although most of the prisoners seem to be okay with the possibility of making a bid for freedom, the thought of doing it with divided leadership is enough to give them pause. It's not the result Shenest had hoped for, and Hale pounces on the opportunity. He spins around on the still-seated Keeper and delivers a tooth-popping haymaker out of nowhere. Shenest's head whips around and carries her to the maintenance bay floor.
Hale crouches down close to her ear. "Like I said, we strike when the time is right. Don't bring this shit up again or it won't be the Narsai or the government who's going to kill you." He stands back up as Arketta, Kang, and Swims start to move in, weapons raised. With his last few unfettered seconds, Hale knocks Shenest out with a vicious kick to the face. He raises his hands and gets to his knees next to the unconscious scientist.
