La Parranda, surface watch - 2:24 p.m.
The sergeant stood atop a small watchtower overlooking the red, sandy expanse around him. Mean winds had kicked a small sandstorm up, and gusts occasionally brought it high enough to reach him, as they had a few moments ago. The man spat sand from his mouth onto the ground below and quietly wished he was inside the city.
Guard duty wasn't glamorous, but it was an important duty, he reminded himself. He pressed his hand to the side of his visor, peering out across the desert again through the enhanced vision they provided, and sighed. He glanced to his two compatriots beside him, and neither seemed stirred, so he stepped up to the wall and spoke: "This is Watchtower 2 making our routine check. There ain't a damned thing to see."
"Got'cha, number two," a woman's voice crackled back. "Maintain watch."
Ten minutes later, there was still nothing to report. Sergeant Sanchez glanced back out at the desert. He was glad for that at least. He preferred things to be quiet and peaceful. The revolution had pretty frightening, and right now he didn't want any more excitement.
"Hey, Al," said the man next to him, nudging him with his elbow. "Five O'clock. See it?"
Sanchez squinted through his visor and zoomed in on what his friend was saying.
Well, shit, he thought, catching sight of one, two... maybe a couple more vehicles moving through the desert, difficult to make out in the sandstorm. They looked to be land rovers, so they weren't that heavily armored, but they could be bandits...
"Flag them down," Sanchez said quickly, walking back to the corner to start radioing in the report. As he did so, he could hear his friend yelling through a voice amplifier:
"You people are approaching La Parranda! Slow down and maintain a steady pace; you are expected to state your business in no uncertain terms!"
2:35 p.m.
Scythe heard the warning and ordered all of the vehicles to quickly slow down. He grabbed his own megaphone and bellowed, "
¡Hola! No harm is meant here, we have similar goals on this planet."
The Rovers slowed to a stop 20 yards from the front wall of La Parranda. John, confidently but cautiously, exited out of the vehicle armed with only a pistol safely holstered on his side. "We come as friends, with gifts," he said, his face serious but non-threatening.
A few moments of awkward, uncertain silence passed as the watchmen traded a few words and sent in the message. The sergeant took the megaphone from the private holding it and called back, "We need you to identify any affiliations you may have before you are allowed entry. Who do you represent?"
"Freedom for the Betterment of Mars. FBM for short. We are freedom fighters and our goal is to free Mars by kicking some corporation ass." As John proudly stated this a chorus of "Ooo-ahs" ring out from the small group behind him.
"I am the leader of this organization, John D. Scythe, and anyone who topples a megacorporation is a friend of mine. We'd like to work out an... Alliance of sorts."
The sergeant glanced over toward another soldier on the watch. He shrugged and a barely audible "
No sé" came through the megaphone by accident. The sergeant looked back at the approaching vehicles and called out, "Alright: we're going to have the guys inside open the gates. You go in, you wait inside your vehicles until someone comes and gets you.
¿Comprendes?"
"
Si," was the short response. Scythe climbed back into his Rover and rolled with his men into the gate, entering a cave. They did as instructed, and waited to meet a figure of authority.
As the gates began closing behind them, the lights inside the cave flickered on all at once. It was a large room: the cave walls were reinforced with pillars of metal, and some fairly obvious murder holes could be seen in the walls. If the residents of La Parranda wanted to start a firefight with someone in this room, they'd have a serious advantage. The walls and floor were covered with white tiles that were worn with years upon years of needing replacement, giving the place an aesthetic reminiscent of a dirty hospital room.
After several minutes, three individuals stepped into the room - militiamen, clearly, with pistols, hammers and knives on their belts. "We're going to need you to leave your vehicles and walk the rest of the way," said the one in the middle with a brown bandanna around his head. "You may bring small arms, but all other equipment must be left here if you wish to proceed."
"Understood," replied John. He ordered his men out of the rovers and walks up to the militia men. "By the way, in the trunk of one of the rovers you'll find a good will offering. Handle them with care." He waited a moment and says, "Lead the way."
Pressing the side of his helmet and speaking in Spanish, the leader headed on through the automatic door he came into. It slid open, revealing a long tunnel with stairs, an elevator and adjacent rooms with bulletproof glass. The group took the elevator down, and minutes later they arrived at a very deep level - floor 62, if the wall was reading the correct number. The door opened, revealing another long hall.
"You'll be speaking with our Marshal in room 140," the bandanna-wearing leader said, leading them forward. "Since we do not know you or your intentions, you will be expected to - how do you say it? - to be on your best behavior." In this cave were ramshackle bunkers and such, clearly another defensive position. All signs indicated this was a military level of some sort. "We've orders to shoot if you try anything, so... don't. Alright?" The man's voice was a bit shaky, but he meant what he said.
They stopped in front of what must have been a former corporate office. Indeed, the Hephaestus logo was still there, only badly damaged and spraypainted over with the word FREEDOM, the sort of treatment buildings get during a riot. John stopped when he saw the defacement and stared, confusing his militia escort. Then, he gave that word a sharp, respectful salute and continued on inside.
The office showed all the signs of having been converted into a barracks. Even the short trip through the building showed it had been badly scored with explosives, and bullet holes could be counted in the hundreds along the scarred, wood-trimmed chrome walls. The smell of ash still clung to the place.
Room 140's door was open when they got there. It looked like a board meeting room stripped bare of decor. In this austere setting, standing beside the long table was a woman of mixed African and Hispanic descent clad in partial body armor striking a pose belonging to a veteran. She stretched a hand out to John.
"Welcome. I'm Marshal Adelina Asturias," she said with no mirth in her voice. "Have a seat."
After shaking hands, John sat and looked at Adelina for a moment before saying, "How does one such as yourself end up here? Your files make you seem like you are... Not exactly a homebody. You're a gun to the highest bidder, a very effective gun, but still just a gun. SkyGuard has had you on their Wanted list and their payroll... What made you decide to take up a cause?" John asked both out of curiosity and to attempt to gauge the woman standing before him.
"I think you're familiar with the term 'need to know basis', Mr. Scythe." Marshal Asturias sat at the head of the table, her hands folded together neatly. "I looked up information on your files, too, in the interim before your arrival. You served in the Skyguard yourself, right? I'm sure you can dream up a few answers to your question.
"However, we're not here to discuss that. You said you had an offer to make." The Marshal drummed her fingers together. "I have the President's permission to make decisions on this matter as if he were the one making the final decision. So, let's hear it."
"Well, we have similar interests on this planet. Namely, freedom," John began. "I think what you people did was a victory for all against tyranny. Quite frankly, the FBM love your ideals. I would like to offer an alliance. The details need ironing out, but, currently the FBM would help protect La Parranda, because, let's be honest, La Parranda couldn't defend against any corporate military forces. The FBM would also send supplies, if they can be spared, to La Parranda. There is also plenty of information to be shared." John confidently and calmly laid out this information.
"Promises and shared ideals may win over some," the Marshal replied just as calmly, "but first, you make it sound as if you plan to wage a war on the Corporations - something we
cannot devote this nation to at this time, nor do we necessarily wish to. It's not just a matter of weapons and numbers; it's a matter of holding a sign that says 'Shoot me.'
"So, I'll need some explanations first," the Marshal continued, eyes narrowed as she inspected John closely. "What is your
ultimate goal? How do you plan to fight the Corporations? And why should we join you in a fight against the Corporations, especially since public knowledge of such an alliance could easily damn us?"
"Our Ultimate goal is simple: have Mars become a free planet. For all intents and purposes, the Free Workers of La Parranda are a shining example of what the entire planet should be. Fighting corporations is also simple. Harrass them, annoy them, make turning a profit impossible. They'll either have to leave Mars, or be destroyed. On your end of things, La Parranda could be easily destroyed. The security is almost laughable compared to what you may be facing. You know this. A friend willing to defend you and that knows a thing or two about disabling incoming war machines is pretty valuable. Having someone who knows SkyGuard from the inside out doesn't hurt either. And here's the greatest part: our deal does not have to be public. It could be our little secret." John delivered this all very smoothly.
There was a long silence as Adelina Asturias considered what the man said. Her face betrayed very little, but her fingers, still drumming together, seemed perhaps the slightest tad more frantic, just a smidgen faster than before. Finally, she laid them flat on the table and gave the other veteran a wary nod.
"Very well," she began slowly. "Exact details can be worked out in time, but... La Parranda will be willing to strike a silent accord with you. I know there are some among us that would jump at a chance to take the fight to the corporations after what the bastards did." She reached down and pressed some buttons on the device on her wrist. "Here. I'm transmitting some coordinates to you. In return for your show of good faith, we'll allow you use of the Low Road, our expanding tunnel network, to conduct your operations. You may also look for recruits among the populace so long as they wish to join of their own free will. Are we clear on that?"
"Very." John replied, his lips almost forming a smile. "If you ever need to contact me, here's my hologram frequency. May our agreement stand strong against the forces of tyranny." He said, pride oozing from his words. Scythe outstretched his hand for a shake, a final seal of agreement.
Adelina shook his hand, but her expression was much stonier. "Save the flowery words for the President, Mr. Scythe," she answered, her words carrying finality and a cautionary weight. "I'll pray we're not signing death warrants."
