October 22, 2111 – October 23, 2111
Malcolm Richardson
Through the metal, Malcolm could vaguely hear the distant chatting between Bearon and an unknown individual. Pitch black darkness and the steady breathing of his fellow squad mates tapped at his nerves. He breathed in heavy breaths against the clear, hard-glass visor of his helmet. Malcolm forced his anxiety and fears back for the sake of the mission. Having on his suit of power armor added a sense of security to his psyche. But was it enough to overcome his nightmares?
The voices grew louder as Bearon and the unknown individual approached. Malcolm could start to make out the conversation. "--the crates sent over to their buyers within the week," the unknown voice said.
"Mighty fine news, but if you don't mind, I'll give my crates one last look over. I like to triple check them, or customers may ask for my head," Bearon tittered.
Amused, the unknown voice said, "Of course you can. I'm about to finish my rotation right after all these crates are loaded. You can do it then."
"Thank you kindly," Bearon shined.
"This the last one?" the voice asked, next to the crate in which the hunters were hiding.
"I do believe so."
Suddenly, the crate housing the hunters was lifted up and began moving horizontally off the cargo ship. Through the crack, Malcolm saw a multitude of crates stacked atop one another. He didn't have to wait long before their crate was placed on top of two other crates toward the edge of the cargo yard.
After about a minute, Bearon instructed over the coms, "You're good to get stepping onward. I'll meet you at the base of operations shortly."
"I understand," Malcolm replied. He lifted the inside handle, which Bearon had installed, and gave the door a shove. It popped open. "Vaal, grab our cargo bag," he instructed before dropping down to a second crate below them.
Leaping again and again, Malcolm plopped into the muddy ground. Soon, Brad and Vaal were right at his sides. Ahead of them, the clearing led into the Fallen Tribe's territory.
"Let's head out. Brad, take middle, and Vaal, cover six."
Malcolm led them past the short clearing of mud and into the dumpster of buildings. Through the sludge and puddles they trekked, heading for the King Tribe's territory and toward a building Malcolm had already picked out. Maneuvering through the crowd of deserted, wooden structures wasn't easy. Each step sent them sinking into the mud and puddles. The power armor's added weight made each step even more exhausting.
The dwarf sun was setting, the deserted buildings slowly extended their shadows. It wasn't going to be long before the last rays of light would be taken away. Down an alley, they reached a structure that had collapsed in on itself. What a tragic place to live. Seeing this region gave Malcolm insight into his enemies, and insight he'd failed to see in the past.
Malcolm stopped and picked up a piece of wood from a collapsed structure. The moldy wood crumbled in his hand, and the splinters fell onto a toy doll - one a dytirc child would have played with. It reminded him of his own past, of his own daughter.
Beep. Beep.
The sound snapped him back to reality. "Malcolm! Bearon's ship has picked up Erryn's ship! It just entered an orbit around the planet."
"Damnit! We have to hurry and get the gear set up before they land. Brad, instruct Bearon to monitor for a link between two ships. If Erryn has a source, this will give us the location of that source."
"On it, Bozz." Brad got on his comm.
The hunters picked up the pace, forcing their way through the sludge and mud that resisted their advance. After a few minutes of hiking, Malcolm could hear voices around a corner. They were whispering too low to make out words.
"Brad, take that corner over there," Malcolm said, gesturing to the opposing building.
Suddenly, down the alley two dytirc men started walking toward them, unaware of their presence. Malcolm caught a glance of their faces. His mind raced, and he blasted back into his nightmares. Flashes, images; Smoke in his lungs, he could barely breathe. Whispers, shots screeching through the house; exhaustion took over.
"She's dead," a distorted voice whispered. "You let her die!"
"Malcolm!" Vaal whispered, tugging at Malcolm's armor, pulling him back to the present. "What's the plan?"
Trembling in his armor, Malcolm was at a loss for words. Fear took over, and he couldn't keep his muscles still. Too late - the dytircs walked into view.
Brad took matters into his own hands. Springing out from behind cover, he kicked up the left dytirc's weapon and spun around, tripping the other into the mud. Stunned from the hit, the dytirc standing couldn't react to Brad as he jabbed him to his knees. With his arms firmly wrapped around the dytirc's neck, Brad twisted it. The dytirc's spine cracked, and he fell to the ground. Vaal joined and stomped on the chest of the dytirc in the mud before he could scream for help. As a maelkii, Vaal had no problem letting her weight do the work. The dytirc's ribs were crushed, and the dytirc exhaled his final breath.
Furious, Vaal turned to Malcolm. "What happened?"
Malcolm couldn't look her in the eye. He knew he was supposed to be their leader, but he was scared shivfless of the dytircs. "I, um, I--"
Brad cut Malcolm off. "Da Bozz can handle it," he answered for Malcolm.
"What if he can't handle it? We're on a dytirc moon. What happens when another comes along?" she queried, unconvinced.
"That'z what I'm here for," Brad said with a sharp tongue. "We ain't here tah dick 'round wit' bitch-azz dytircz. Shit, we're here tah find uz some legionnaire azz tah kick."
Malcolm put up his hand to instruct them to stop and listen. "It's time to move." Vaal wasn't pleased; however, she held her tongue, and they continued through the rest of the Fallen Tribe's territory before entering the King Tribe's territory. "Malcolm," Bearon called in, "just like you predicted, Erryn had herself a contact. Sending you the source location now."
"Acknowledged," Malcolm responded. "Brad, split off and bug that location." Brad took the next turn. Vaal followed Malcolm as they headed toward the location he had picked out.
Vaal sighed. "Okay, I want you to be truthful with me, Malcolm. What happened back there?"
Uncomfortable, Malcolm rubbed the back of his neck. "Nothing I can't handle," he lied.
"That's not the truth," she grunted.
"It's the closet you'll get to it," Malcolm retorted.
"I'm beginning to see why I was placed on your hunter squad."
"Why was that?" Malcolm rolled his eyes in annoyance.
"Because someone has to challenge your stubbornness. I mean, I thought I can be stubborn – but you, Malcolm, are in a league of your own!"
"Keep talking, and I'm sure you'll break me into submission soon," Malcolm growled sarcastically. "All you're being right now is a nuisance."
"Spoken just like my peers from grade school."
"Really? I must congratulate them on being correct."
Vaal took offense to this, as if Malcolm had pushed just the right button. She snapped and even gave Malcolm a shove. "Oh, and I'm sure you were just Mr. Popular in school. I mean, what are you doing… why act like a walking douche?"
Her insults didn't faze him. Malcolm knew what he was and didn't care what others saw. "I'm what the mission requires of me: A soldier. That's what I've always been, and that's what I always will be." Malcolm turned to see Vaal was still hurt by his remarks. He understood he had to maintain a pleasant relationship with her to have optimal performance with the mission; so, despite not wanting to, he coughed up the words, "I apologize. I know I can be stubborn and strict, but I do what I do for the mission. Can you understand that?"
Vaal's shoulders lifted, and she gave a bit of a smile that read forgiveness. "I can."
On the next turn, the building Malcolm was looking for was in sight. It was tucked away against three other buildings, all in better shape than most of the other structures. One entrance, just the way he liked it, was hidden behind a dying shrub. The hunters ducked under the low wooden doorway and entered the trashed structure. Thin rays of light seeped through the cracks and spaces between the dark-boarded walls.
"Let's begin."
⁕⁕⁕⁕⁕
Vaal manned the listening station, gathering all she could from the bugs placed all around Erryn's ship and Larno's residence. She'd just relieved Malcolm from his shift. Throughout that day, they'd monitored their equipment, with nothing to show for it. Brad had left the building for some patrolling; he always dreaded staying in one place for extended periods of time. Malcolm had James Stone's files out, rereading some of his missions. Bearon was working on his aim.
"I've got something!" Vaal shouted in joy as she nearly jumped from her seat. "James and Erryn found intelligence on the Grando last night."
"Is that it?" Malcolm asked. Vaal held up her hand to shush Malcolm. Bearon and Malcolm awaited the news. "They also found… two children." Vaal shrugged at her words, as if not fully believing she'd heard that right.
"Children? Interesting." Malcolm wasn't sure what to make of it either.
"Oh… here we go. James and Erryn are headed back to the ship to plan an attack against the control station. Is this our play, Malcolm?"
"No, we need more of the legionnaires together. Let's wait until they decide to raid the control station. According to Brad's schematics, it's an easy place to ambush them while not alerting the dytircs."
"Aye, aye. I'll keep listening." Vaal placed her ear buds back on.
Bearon tapped Malcolm's shoulder and shook his hand. "I do believe this is where we part ways."
"Are you sure?"
"I reckon so. I have to take this shot while I still got it."
Malcolm extended his hand to Bearon. "Good luck. Remember, don't underestimate James."
Bearon shook hands with Malcolm and headed to the crumbling door. "I ain't plannin' on it."
After Bearon left, Vaal asked, "Do you think he'll succeed?"
"I doubt it, but we don't need him to." Malcolm shrugged. "He's played out his use to us, and if he manages to kill Erryn, that would only be a bonus."