Penny

Neck Deep

Vendik II - Day One

The transport burned with a pale blue white flame that through the darkened ridgeline into almost painful clarity. It had been a simple vessel, designed to a standard modular template that served a multitude of functions depending on configuration. This one had been a dropship, recognizable from the boxy arrays of thrusters at three of its four cardinal points. A fourth set, severed in the crash, had carried down the side of the short escapement where it had smashed to so much junk against the bowels of the large red back trees that clung to the moisture laden soil at the base of the rise. The greasy smell of burning metal and petrochemical hung over the scene like a soiled blanket.

Cassie Cyckali watched the wreck burn. Her suit protected her from the worst of the stink, though she didn’t button up. Veteran vac troopers conserved air wherever they could, and the instinct didn’t go away just because you were dirt side. A bad smell was a fair trade for a few extra minutes of air in a pinch.

“What did they say?” Technician Second Class Roschilde asked, impatient and jumpy from having survived the crash. Irritated too, like Cyckali, to be on the ground instead of in zero-g where she belonged. Cassie smiled. Ros was new to the unit but she would do. Despite her technical specialty she didn’t care to stand around burning air when there was a job to be done. Assuming any of them survived the job of course.

“They said a bunch of shit, but basically, our drop got fucked,” Cyckali responded, speaking over the unit push to avoid having to repeat the information to her half dozen troopers. There was a slight crackle, a product of enemy jamming, but the transmitters built into their suits were powerful enough to cover a few dozen meters. They could have just used unaided voice, even over the crackling of the burning dropship, but vac troopers defaulted to techniques they learned in the void of space. You went with what you knew would work. She had tight beam microwave to the transport Queen Regent in orbit, but all the radio bands were being heavily jammed. Unfortunately whoever was answering the comms on the Queenie was as confused about the ground situation as Cassie herself.

“Yeah well that was obvious, you know, with the plasma bolts and everything,” Ros replied ironically.

“How is that possible, wasn’t this supposed to be a surprise attack?”

“Stars above Ros, how the fuck should I know?” Cassie responded in exasperation, the remark getting snickers from the half dozen troopers cutting the tension that had been building since the transport had slammed into the ground. There was a hollow crump as something in the burning shuttle detonated. The vac troopers didn’t react with panicked dives that would have been too late to make a difference, merely spread away from the wreck with quick controlled moves. In zero g, sudden unplanned movements sent troopers tumbling off into the black.

Ros had a point though. This was supposed to have been a surprise attack, launched deep behind enemy lines at an unprotected agricultural world. It was always difficult and costly to drive entrenched forces off an occupied world. The high command must have felt that seizing a dirtball behind the lines and fortifying it would be a wound the enemy couldn’t ignore. Once the world was captured orbital defenses could be put in place it would become a haven for raiders and privateers, spreading and requiring exponential resources to contain.

The capture of Vendik II was intended as the first step in an offensive that would finally end the war between the Federal Hegemony and the Capelan League, the two super polities of the human galaxy. It had been a grueling decade long conflict that had left few worlds unaffected, and there was a sense in the air that if the fighting didn’t end soon human civilization itself might collapse. For mercenaries like Cassie Cyckali and the other members of Collets Commando, the war provided steady employment. Both superpowers maintained large standing armies and fleets but the need for skilled people always outstriped supplies. Many of the minor powers, mostly clients of the larger ones, couldn’t afford to maintain their own armies, and so hired formed units to stiffen their own troops or to perform specialist tasks. Crushing a rival was worth a one time expense.

For major operations like this one, both sides hired as many mercs as they could, both for the extra firepower, and increasingly, to shift the burden of casualties away from their war weary citizens. Intelligence leakage wasn’t really a problem as briefings were usually conducted once troops were in jump space, and in any case no merc wanted to earn a few credits extra and risk getting greased in an ambush at her deployment zone. Which, come to think of it had very nearly happened during the landing. From the scattered comm chatter she could pick up, Cassie figured that other units of the assault force had met with similar receptions, and the fact there was comm jamming at all meant this landing was no surprise. Which meant, in the end, they were probably fucked.

“Nearest rally point is Charlie Three Zero,” Cassie stated, as she consulted the map in her helmets HUD. The AI in her helmet provided route data and suggested formation both of which she confirmed with a double wink of her right eye. They were over five hundred miles away from their original objective, which meant they would have to fold in with whatever units were close for now and try to rejoin Colet at some later point.

“There is high ground there and we can see if there is anyone there to give orders.”

Neck Deep

@Specter189

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Reyne refrained from breathing a sigh of relief as they passed through the security cordon. There was little doubt that the pair of them were being scanned with visual and biometric sensors and it wasn’t unlikely that they were monitoring their heart rates and other statistics. Such devices were common among the nobility, the sort of thing that Mia used to monitor her guests back in Lord Armond’s manor and to a lesser extent aboard the Bonaventure, and so Rene had received some training in how to keep his readings steady.

“Where you go, I go,” he responded simply to Solae’s question, the honest conviction in the statement more powerful than any flowery rhetoric might have been. He wanted very badly to take her hand and squeeze it, but such a gesture would be out of place for a bodyguard and his employer and might be remarked upon by the security team.

The hallway rounded a corner and opened onto a large chamber with three transport pods standing on small pedestal. A security checkpoint with a scanning frame blocked their advance and was manned by two security guards in non descript suits. Both men carried miniaturized sub-machine guns on patrol slings and looked like they knew how to use them.

Solae walked through the frame without slowing and one of the guards glanced down at the readout. Rene followed suit and the scanner made a low pinging sound as it registered his sidearm. Again the guard glanced at the read out but didn’t make a comment as Rene followed Solae toward the central transport pod. They evidently were not concerned about weaponry as prosaic as a plasma pistol that posed little threat to the armored vaults they protected. If Rene had been shown to be carrying detonite or some other explosive, he expected the result would have been different and probably lethal.

The door to the pod opened smoothly revealing a plush bench and a small computer terminal. Solae stepped inside and Rene followed without hesitation, standing and bracing himself while she seated herself on the bench.

“Welcome Lady Carrow,” a pleasant contralto voice without dicernable sex announced. It was the first AI Rene had encountered on Zatis.

“Are you ready to depart?”

Solae nodded and the pod slid shut. There was a slight hum as the pod began to move, but gravitational dampers functioned so expertly that there was no sensation of movement as the pod sank into the armored vaults beneath the bank. Rene did squeeze Solae’s hand now, giving her as much encouragement as he dared. Though the AI might see the gesture, he hoped that it wouldn’t be taken as anything more than a noblewoman who entertained herself with a bodyguard.

The pod door opened to reveal a new room. This one a simple sterile room with a small kiosk at one end. Holographic windows were fitted to the walls, giving a pleasnt view of a simulated beach on some world other than Zatis.

“Do you understand the security protocol Lady Carrow?” the AI asked as they stepped towards the kiosk.

“I do,” Solae responded shortly, eyes fixed on the vault and whatever secrets her parents had kept from her.

“If you choose to have your bodyguard present, he may not speak, any attempt to communicate once the test begins will constitute a failure and meet with dire consequences,” the computer cautioned.

Penny's Interests

Bumpe

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Rene nodded politely to Ten, his emotions swaying between gratitude for the temporary safe haven and irritation at the interruption of a private and intimate moment. It reasonable, he had a duty to the Stellar Empire both as a marine and as the noble he was, in his soul if not in his current position, but time alone with Solae had been so rare and precious that he resented its loss none the less.

“Lets be about it,” he said shortly allowing Ten and Solae to precede him. Tactically the position allowed Ten to take the lead, but if he planned on killing them he would have done it by now. It also had the practical advantage of allowing him to continue to watch Solae in all her glory. It occurred to him that this was the first time he had truly seen her in her element, a noble woman of the Stellar Empire. He had been smitten with her even in the bloodied rags he had first met her in, but now she seemed to shine like the sun and it was difficult to keep his eyes off her.

The moved through the complex to the garage where an aircar waited, fans idling. It was a different vehicle from the previous day, a sleek black four place vehicle built in sleek sporting lines. The very thing one would expect a minor noblewoman to use. Ten was dressed in a variation of the suit Rene wore, though a little plainer and more practical, suggesting a chauffeur rather than a bodyguard the look completing the disguise. A cynical part of Rene’s mind wondered why the man was really coming along, did he not trust the operation to his underlings? Or was it, like his desire to be in the drivers seat, a marker of a man who refused to give up control.

Doing his best to push such uncharitable thoughts towards their host aside, Rene opened the door to the rear passenger compartment and handed Solae in, then circled around the rear of the vehicle and climbed into the opposite door. The interior was modern and immaculate with holo projectors built into both rear seats in case the passengers wanted to work while in transit. In the console between the two seats, where ordinarily a bar or refreshment compartment might be situated, was a submachine gun in a butt stock clip. Rene mechanically retrieved the weapon and checked the load before replacing it in the clip. Noticing that both Solae and Ten were watching him he shrugged, the action so ingrained by training that he had only been partially aware of it. He thought about Solae and what she had gone through in the past few weeks, and how well she had handled it. Perhaps the glittering life of a noble wasn’t really her element, at least not solely her element. Both of them were more than they had once been.

The aircar lifted smoothly and rose out of the holographic camouflage with hardly a whisper of its powerful fans audible. Like most cities Zatis never truly slept, men and women stumbled from bars, forlorn looking prostitutes displayed their questionable wares, here and there a few aircars banked and curved, but as Ten had suggested it was probably the quietest time of day. They flew over the blazing neon signs and enormous holographic advertisements to a more sober looking distinct. Here, towards the center of the city, the apex of the dome allowed for more vertical construction, though it was still fairly squat compared to cities under the open sky.

The bank was on the edge of the central cluster of buildings. It was opulent without being showy, mirrored black synthetic with a slight taper from its base to the sixth story peak. Predictably there was no sign or advertising, no one walked in off the street to do business in a place like this. Ten touched a control on the dashboard and took his hands of the controls. The air car began to descend, its controls slaved to an automatic pilot program from the building, one that allowed the bank to guide its customers in.

“Remember,” Ten said, turning to look over his shoulder at Solae, “You are Lady Svetlana Carrow, its one of your family ciphers, it should allow you to get to the vault you need without flagging that you are here on Zatis to the Duke.” They both nodded, recalling the plans they had made the previous evening. Rene had in his pocket an id chip that identified him as Roland Diaz, an independent security consultant from New Concordia, Ten doubted that a bodyguard would attract enough attention for that to matter, but in the event Rene was familiar enough with the world to bluff.

They sank to the level of the second floor and had almost reached the glass before the armored panel retracted to admit them, the car sliding smoothly into the building as the portal sealed behind them. The interior of the building seemed more like the entrance to a luxury hotel than a bank. The car set down on a polished plate of what appeared to be a gold veined white marble, but must have been some kind of armored composite judging by the way the weight of the vehicle failed to disfigure it. A large desk, flanked by stone columns dominated the east wall and blocked of access deeper into the building. A bank employee, a handsome man with sandy hair and an expensive suit stood behind the desk, flanked by a pair of men whose heavy musculature and loose cut suits marked them as security. Several slightly discolored panels concealed what might be sensors, but might just as easily be automated turrets or riot suppression equipment. On a planet renowned for mercenaries and criminals, deterring robbery was clearly a serious concern.

“I will remain with the car,” Ten explained calmly, “Good luck Mistress Carrow.”

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

"I ...," Rene hesitated, his heart thumping at the thought they might really be married and his crotch, more practical, tightening at the prolonged view of her naked rump. As such things went, Rene possessed a great deal of self control, but by the stars she was beautiful. A moment ago he would have said that the only thing that made him nervous was the risk to her, but now, faced with the possibility that their might be some piece of information that would unlock the future they both wanted together, he found that he was afraid to have his hopes dashed.

"I guess I am nervous," he admitted and reached for the black dress telling himself it wasn't just his hormonally charged state that drove him to the selection. The lilac would stand out more in the generally muted colors of Zatis, and the visible pleat might give the impression of a wound to any would be predators despite being purely cosmetic. The sapphire would have suited Solae's natural hair color better but the animal skin gave it a violence that Rene felt was at odds with the woman, and might make the woman herself look somewhat muted with her new brunette hair. Whatever else they owed Ten, a good quality wig might be the difference between life and death when it concealed that dazzling golden hair. The black was sexy, dangerous, just the thought of thing any noblewoman 'slumming it' on a world like this, and with a bodyguard to keep her safe would go for. Courtiers instincts didn't go away just because you hadn't used them in a few years.

“I don’t know what could be in the vault that might change things, but I can’t help but hope that there will be something that would make me…” he paused, knowing that the words would come out wrong but confident she would understand. Something that would make him worthy of her, she was afterall a noblewoman, and whatever his birth, his current station would make their match a source of ridicule for her.

“Something that would make a difference,” he concluded somewhat lamely.

Star Crossed: The Duke's Rebellion

Rene woke in the early hours, though in truth he had done little enough sleeping. Solae shifted her naked form against him and he instinctively tightened his arms around her. They had retired shortly after dinner, both being exhausted and in the rare circumstance of not being in immediate fear for their lives. They were also both very cognisant that their luck was likely to run out in the near future and making love had seemed far more important than sleep to either of them. It was possible, perhaps even probable that Ten was recording them, but in a galaxy where sophisticated video editing could conjure people more realistic than the original models, the value of such footage was minimal. Even in peace time, the fact that a noblewoman might take a common soldier to her bed would hardly have caused titillation, much less been cause for blackmail. Given the fact Solae wasn’t yet married, it wouldn’t attract enough attention to make it worth the effort.

“Time to wake up?” Solae asked sleepily, roused by the pressure of her lovers arms around her body. A soft musical chime sounded as the alarm they had set to wake them cycled on for a moment, detected their wakefulness and disengaged. Waking before an alarm was a trick that most Marines mastered early on, afterall it was better to be awake before a segment kicked you awake for a watch.

“I’m afraid so,” Rene told her leaning down to kiss her lips lingeringly. They hadn’t made any detailed plans last night, agreeing that there was little to be gained by speculation until they knew what was in the Falia vault. Judging by the fact they had already been ambushed once, even getting that far was likely to be a good deal more complicated and a good deal more dangerous than it sounded. The room, or rooms more accurately, they had been given, were luxuriously appointed. There was a bedchamber, a bath and a general purpose room that seemed to combine closet and communication center that opened raidally of a central sitting room paved in cool stone tiles. Several plants, expensive ultra realistic synthetics, rather than the real thing, were artfully arranged to give the impression of a garden, despite the fact it was completely in doors.

Reluctantly, Rene climbed out of bed stepped into the discrete refresher unit, the water ran hot over his naked body for several long minutes, the warmth easing his muscles and enhancing the sense of well being that suffused him following a night in Solae’s arms. By the time he emerged from the refresher Solae was up, sitting naked on the edge of the bed watching him with a smile as he emerged. He offered her a courtly bow and then swept her up into his arms, ignoring her squeal of mock protest as his damp body touched hers. He kissed her lingeringly for a long moment, stealing an intimacy even though they knew that they had no time to indulge it. Reluctantly he allowed her to step into the shower and turned to his own duties.

As per the discussion last night, Rene’s clothing was already laid out for him. Ten had provided a suit of expensive black and gray silk, the kind which was currently in vouge with the type of high end security a noble might keep on retainer for conducting business in dangerous regions. It was stylish, but the weave was reinforced with carbon fibre and discrete ceramic plates. It wasn’t armor per se, but it provided a man a modicum of protection and more importantly gave Rene an excuse to stay close to Solae as she played the part of a minor noble woman. He pulled it on carefully surprised to find that it had been tailored to fit him, possibly from scans made by concealed electronics in the building. A pistol had been provided, a civilian variant of the standard marine side arm. With mechanical reflex he snapped open the action and checked the load, thumbing one of the plasma cartigges free and replacing it at the bottom of the clip before tucking the pistol into the concealed shoulder holster. A pair of reloads balanced the weight in the right inside coat pocket, but if he needed them things would have already gone badly wrong.

By the time he had finished dressing Solae was emerging from the refresher. He turned to face her with a wry smile. He supposed private security was a step up in the world from a marine private.

“Well?” he joked, “How do I look?”