To note, if I remember correctly the planet there on is where the game endless legend was set upon so depending if the author wants to do that we might see see some surviving factions or remains of them, maybe the last dead eggs of the necrophage or the broken remnants of the cultists
To note, if I remember correctly the planet there on is where the game endless legend was set upon so depending if the author wants to do that we might see see some surviving factions or remains of them, maybe the last dead eggs of the necrophage or the broken remnants of the cultists
Unincorporated Space = Civilized space not completely in the Sphere of Influence of a single empire. Filled with Pirates, Minor Civs, and uncolonized areas (some areas uncolonized are under certain spheres of influence)
Oh, you got credits; well, why didn't you start with that?
The encirclement? What else is there to say other than the obvious.
Command fucked up, intel fucked up, shitshow from top to bottom. Siegers became the besieged. 'Fore I got rotated here, my platoon played escort for 3rd Mech company when them bots crawled out of the ice. You journos ever believed in a hell? Cause I saw its gates open right then and there, spewing out killing machines. We beat them easy at first, they were stupid and charged out in the open, so it became a shooting gallery.
Had these speedsters; boys called em Hellspawn cause it was ugly as shit and shot missile pods filled with some green concoction that caused nasty crystalline infections. We were a few months into the operation and already developed a neat cure for it, sonic waves, but it ain't perfect. Before that, the thought of em shook me and my men up something fierce. We didn't show it, naturally, we were soldiers after all, but every conversation somehow involved morbid scenarios of what the missile could do to you. That was their anti-infantry and the first thing that came out of that hole.
Our Mechboys took care of em, and things calmed down after that. Then came the second wave. Same shit, but we were starting to feel the pressure, ammo was running out, and our Mechboys were complaining about malfunctions. I wracked up more kills in those two engagements than I did in the entire Hissho campaign. Problem was, it wasn't just two engagements.
The third was a knockout punch. I don't think the AI thought it would work; it just seemed like it was throwing shit and seeing which stuck, but this wave fucked us. More came out, and we were begging for reinforcements, it turns out the whole theatre was getting fucked too just like us. We were on our own, and it's been half a day of shooting.
Then came the big boys. Massive four-legged walkers that shot red beams at us. 3rd Company took out one, then came another, and another. By this point, we took 30 -- no 35 percent fatalities, the wounded outnumbered us, and our Mechboys were functionally gone.
Then came the bombardment. You've seen what our ships can do to a planet, right? The Hissho sure did; those naval guns could make kilometer-long craters. Think of the size of the explosion, reaching way into the sky, now imagine it happening some 20-25 kilometers from you. My soldiers were marked for death. I was lucky enough to take cover in a cavern that opened up during the fighting. Do you know Auriga has extensive cave networks that existed before the AI? The Vaulters here wouldn't shut up about it, and you wouldn't guess from how the planet looked like one nasty ball of ice from orbit. Was alone in that cave for a good few hours, radiation still reached my cave and doc says I got minor poisoning. Sure don't feel minor.
Did I hear voices in the cave? Wha-I- you a glowie, a shrink? Sniffing some of that blue cap? You know what, I think we're done here. Fuck off, or I'll re-educate your ass.
(First two pictures were made in Midjourney.)
Been trying out Mid journey, so I worked up some character portraits, might post it in a separate Dramatis Personae post if there's interest. Here's one example:
Been trying out Mid journey, so I worked up some character portraits, might post it in a separate Dramatis Personae post if there's interest. Here's one example
missile pods filled with some green concoction that caused nasty crystalline infections. We were a few months into the operation and already developed a neat cure for it, sonic waves, but it ain't perfect.
I see the Commander visited Command and Conquer before arriving here... And oh boy, you think that sonic waves are a complete cure? Just wait until a version mutates to resist those like Tiberium always does. Hopefully the Commander's got the tech to clean that up afterwards despite sonic no longer working on it. On the other hand, the sonic vulnerable version does work well as a 'chemical and radiological' weapon that can be cleaned up with ease afterwards so I don't think the Commander would use the mutated version in their weapons for a while afterwards at least.
Upcoming character
-------------------------------------------------------------------------- PS, I've written a small update from Fusion's POV, ya just have to find it.
Note, Art AI is wonky so these portraits are approximations, some closer than others i.e Cunningham.
The camera rolls, the news team countdown, and a sharply dressed and stately man stands before a black screen. He holds no script, for it is embedded in the hud of his optical implant. The man clears his throat, shakes his arms, and cracks his neck, a routine done after thousands of broadcasts. No jitters; he's a professional.
"We're live in 3. 2. 1!"
The screen turns on, revealing a bulbous red ship surrounded by collages of urban battle; men in bulky armour and riot shields do battle against a ramshackle resistance. Images of buildings burning are placed next to crying civilians in the collage, with the ship in the middle, as if to cast blame.
The man-- the reporter-- straightens his posture and speaks with his smooth and practised voice, "Today marks the six-month anniversary of the invasion of Antanovigrad and the failed coup in Nadigrad."
The collage fades and gives way to an image of a blue colossus.
"These operations were the brainchild of this machine, its makers and masters unknown but suspected to be Vaulter dissidents, who armed nationalist extremists and bribed local officials. Their ultimate goal was to upend our way of life and spread anti-Raian propaganda. But how did this all begin? Where did it come from? After six months, experts believe in having scratched the surface."
Cut and fade away to black. The screen reveals a red line cutting through a white background, and a single red circle forms on the left side. The same reporter narrates the broadcast.
"We believe the mech made landfall in Nadigrad several months before the uprising through means unknown, perhaps through an ancient Vaulter portal within the planet itself. From then on, we see an uptick in separatist rhetoric in the months following, which quickly grew momentum. From message boards to arguments in bars, to even local politicians dog-whistling extremist ideas! Experts have dubbed this phase as "Political Subversion.""
A picture of a stocky man with a thick moustache appears on the screen, standing before a podium, lecturing to a crowd. The words: Smaller Government! were in bolded red and put into quotations beside the politician. The picture fades back into the previous screen. Another red circle has formed on the line.
"And it caught on. There's a marked militancy in the same groups spouting separatist rhetoric as guns confiscated from police raids grew exponentially, coinciding with a crime wave that hit the streets of Nadigrad. Finally, and most tragically, line-of-duty deaths within the enforcement community soared in weeks, even after the army intervened."
An array of charts and stats littered the screen, "Where did the guns come from? Who was responsible for mobilising these terrorists? This is where the mech comes in, as an unprecedented volume of police raids in spaceports and smaller aerodromes revealed that arms shipments, legal and otherwise, entering the planet did not account for half the weapons confiscated. Take note that Nadigrad was and still is a planet that lacked the infrastructure to support Tractable Armaments. The mech now moved from Political Subversion into Militarisation."
The picture of the red bulbous ship pops up again alongside factory-shaped silhouettes labelled with question marks, "After further raids, we find out where it was all coming from. Through methods unknown, the mech has the ability to manufacture highly refined goods at a massive volume without needing complicated supply chains to fuel production. Perhaps they had stolen and wastefully used a massive amount of Dust to make it possible. Whichever the case, the mech popped-up Shell-Corporations headed by, you guessed it, Vaulter radicals. These Corporations flooded the sector's market with luxury goods, and the prices of Space-Yachts, watches, supercars, and more were in free fall, causing hard-working Raian businesses in the sector to become unprofitable. All the while, these Vaulter CEOs raked in credits and spent them to advance their agenda."
Charts of several Corporation's stock prices decreasing appeared alongside articles mentioning mass lay-offs. At the centre of the screen was an image of young men on the streets begging for money and work. Then, the screen faded into the timeline; now, there was a third red circle.
"And whenever it wasn't engaging in Economic Warfare, the mech organised these groups of radicals with a diverse set of beliefs into a cohesive whole, establishing terrorist cells within the old undercities. Each cell was filled with true believers of the cause, training for the day they will rise up and "Free the Aurigans from Raian Chains". Fortunately, things turned out differently."
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Just something small I'm working on to provide a timeline since next chapter will be a POV outside of Auriga, the next part will detail the shell-corps getting investigated, and the Commander's failed invasion on Antanovigrad and escape to Auriga, plus the purges that came after. Also, since I'm getting deeper into the world and the story, any political statement spoken from any character in this story does no reflect the author's.
Nadigrad (Formerly Nadjnestad)
City within former Vaulter Space
A black and red sedan sped briskly down a road pockmarked with craters. Within its dull interior was a woman with plenty of spare time and a need to unwind. The woman, Morgana, had a sharp jaw and narrow hazel eyes, which together formed a severe countenance. Some have described her as seemingly smug, unbearably so, to the point where she's sometimes told to smile. But to her superiors, to the people that matter, she possessed a professional presence, one substantiated by her general expertise in all things management and office politics. The perfect secretary, a job she did admirably and one which fate had plucked her away from. Now she was something else entirely. Morgana glimpsed her reflection in the car's mirror and focused on the road ahead after noting little to no imperfections. She had a rough night coupled with an even rougher morning, and Morgana preferred that whatever damages she accrued were obscured; it would ruin her image. "But the mirror lies," her reflection coldly spoke, yellow draconic eyes peering into Morgana.
The road she drove on led to the "bad part" of town, so its repair was not expected soon, unlike the ones in the inner city. That was where all the automated drones blueprint, fabricate and build over the damage like new growths overtaking withering trees. But as always, resources were finite and progress was slow. Alongside the recent crashes caused by the birth and destruction of the Vaulter-led corps on top of the Aurigan operation becoming a budgetary black hole, city repairs were sporadic and sometimes informal. The uprisings really did put on a dent in things; those gleaming towers of glass and steel in the inner city still bore blackened scars of revolution, with Duke Antanov's vandalised statues as the cherry on top.
Ironically she was going to spend her time with the very same people who'd burn the city down. Before the uprising, she had made friends with certain Vaulters, back when their corporations were transforming into rising stars in the Sector, its CEOs made into idols within the Empire's pantheon of Industry and Commerce. Back then, Vaulters weren't considered radioactive, and she made friendly acquaintances with a couple in her spare time. Then came an eating competition which she partook in and won with her usual dignity and grace. One thing led to another, and she was...perhaps adopted wasn't the right word, maybe "accepted into the family"? Whichever the case, Morgana had to admit to some fondness for them to the point of preserving said connections after the revolution. That was why she was heading into the Vaulter District; she had friends waiting for her there.
The sedan passed a toll booth and entered a highway near a field, or at least what once was a field. Now replaced by a great chasm the size of a small city. The hole was surrounded by military bases and hovercrafts moving to and fro. That was where the AI's own dreadnought emerged from and escaped the atmosphere, harassed by the city's defences as it ran. Then it invaded Duke Antanov's capital planet, the creatively named Antonovigrad and was rebuffed.
In the corner of her mind, Morgana wonders which came first? Did the Vaulter Uprising begin thanks to this "Fusion" AI choosing to arm Vaulter dissidents, or did it start when the Vaulters radicalised the mech? Many in government already knew the mech was an unknown third party that somehow made landfall near Nadigrad without notice. It being a Vaulter creation was a flimsy lie to keep up appearances. Prevents panic and, more importantly, in Morgana's eyes, embarrassment. Better to say it came through an ancient Vaulter portal than to admit it came from space and landed unnoticed. In truth, if there was a working Vaulter portal within the planet, it would've been found before this whole debacle.
Morgana's car stopped by an armed checkpoint, with one Imperial soldier approaching as she opened her window.
"ID," the guard demanded tiredly; it was clear guard duty was getting to him; Morgana complied, "civil servant..." the guard murmured to himself, "platinum tier...what's a bureaucrat like you doing here? The place is under curfew, ma'am."
"For work," Morgana simply replied, though she couldn't help but to tap her feet lightly on the pedal.
Another guard came by, "got word from sarge, let her through." Morgana let out an imperceptible sigh of relief and drove forward. It's nice to have friends in high places.
Carefully, she entered the Vaulter District. That was the official name for the area, a holdover from the "harmony through separation" era of city planning to ensure stability in Nadigrad. Never mind that the Yuusho live perfectly harmonious lives amongst the Raians without needing separation. What it led to was the separate development of two different cities, one poorer than the other and more resentful too. It was clear where all public development money went, which caused the Vaulters to rely on private money instead, whether it'd be donations or corporate grants. Was it any wonder why they revolted so violently when corporate audits exposed creative financing within Vaulter corporations, which led to a crackdown? So what if they were tied to a mech with dubious and perhaps even insidious goals? Those corps were the district's only way into prosperity. And those crackdowns became viewed as one of many injustices done to these conquered people, which apparently was the breaking point.
Their suffering in this Sector had gone on for a very long time, from their annexation to Antanov's regime. They built the city the conquering Raians now inhabit, and it was so painfully clear they made it. Half a decade ago, Raian developers had mistaken an underground residential district for a sewage system and treated it accordingly. When residents complained, they were gradually evicted. The urban planning of the conquered was often ignored and forgotten, and many such incidents kept popping up from time to time. The intricacies of planetary planning were already hard enough, but take away native expertise and you have a nightmare. The Sector's solution to said difficulties was to either block all Vaulter structures off, destroy them, or replace them with something more Imperial. Adapting was considered too complicated and costly, and many succeeding Dukes had other priorities, with Antanov's vanity dreadnought, the one Fusion destroyed, being the latest example. And so was born "harmony through separation".
Morgana delved deeper into the district, her destination near. The roads were empty; only her vehicle roamed the streets littered with burnt-out cars and broken security bots. Police drones flew over the district like vultures waiting for their prey to reveal itself. It was a district which had experienced war, as once glimmering white buildings were now painted over by the ashen greys of debris and rubble. The debris itself was nowhere to be found; the army had cleaned it up to prevent any possibility of resistance hiding within it, though they didn't bother to clean up the still-standing structures.
The air was heavy and oppressive, and despite her immunity, Morgana feared the prospect of getting pulled over. The drones and cameras didn't help either. Her every movement was watched and scrutinised, and any mistake, even an honest one, could mean her end. Luckily her journey went smoothly, and she arrived at her destination.
It was a bar, though somewhat empty, thanks to the curfew. No one was tending it, but an old woman cleaning up the dust and shattered glass. Morgana had met her before the uprising; Liszt was her name, a colourful woman who made Redsang soup for anyone who'd talk to her and liked to introduce her grandson to any bachelorette she could find, including Morgana. Her grandson's dead now, sadly, shot during the revolts, but sadder still was that Liszt had stopped making Redsang soup, which Morgana had developed a taste for. Hopefully, her grief ends sooner rather than later.
The two nodded at one another as Morgana walked into the back door to the kitchen. The kitchen was in disarray, with a multitude of pots and pans strewn about on the floor; no one had bothered to clean it. She then entered the cold storage room, more empty than it was messy this time and moved a tray to reveal a hatch on the ground. She enters and finds herself in a tunnel. It took another hidden hatch for her to reach where she intended to go.
A large man, a Vaulter man with clan markings on his pale face, sat on a stool next to an unassuming door, reading the news on a tablet. He eyes her and mumbles, "What're you here for?"
Morgana reached into her memory for the answer, "to live long and remember," she responded.
The guard stared at Morgana silently as the latter began to doubt herself. Had they changed it already?
The guard grunted in approval and opened the door, "well, you know the rules, and don't stay too long, yeah? Else your folks will probably start asking questions."
Morgana nodded in relief and walked past the entrance leading into a descending staircase with another door in the front. She was planning to stay for much longer, questions be damned.
Then she entered the real bar, named "Hall of the Ezmerfold". Opening the door had led to a flood of noise that overwhelmed her senses. The lights blinded her, and the clamour of shouts and laughter deafened her. The interior itself had sterile, cold walls covered by vibrant decorations, with clan banners standing side-by-side with artful photos.
It was in this bar merriment mixed with revolutionary fervour, creating an intense atmosphere, a wave of excitement that could very well sweep Morgana away. If she was a Vaulter, that is. The only thing notable to her was the humidity and stale smell of cheap booze. This was the uprising, which had now simmered into an insurgency. Those operating the bar were one part of a Vaulter cell which itself was one among dozens hidden within Nadigrad's own undercity, comprised of underground networks stretching across the planet their ancestors governed.
One table held a group of men sharing lurid tales with one another, while the table next had an entire political lecture occurring. It spoke of a people that felt undefeated by Antanov's efforts to reduce them, but it also spoke of a culture in crisis.
At the edge of the room was a long table filled with grim elders, with drinks beside them. They were men whose beards would touch the floor and women whose wrinkles had sagged their cheeks. They were the elders, the clan heads, and though young revolutionaries of their ilk chafe under them as they would with Antanov, their words held weight, even more so now that the Zolyas were gone. From Morgana's understanding and careful eavesdropping, this meeting was one of many to determine how Vaulters or, according to certain clans, Aurigans, should organise as a people. A build-up towards the Wolna Elekcja, an election to decide a system of rule and the ruler.
Without a long-lived Zolya to help govern, the old "Longhouse" system was put into question, and having more power distributed to the clans and/or reviving the Church of the Orrery rose up as alternatives. Of course, there were many more arguments put up by fringe political groups, but it was these two ideas that gained the most influence.
Before she could mull it over, a group had called her over, "Morgana, you've made it!" a man had called her from his booth placed near the elder's table. He was Mikolaj, a burly man with a charming smile who once worked security before the revolt. His tanned face was decorated with sharp white markings indicating his being in clan Grakch, a martial Vaulter clan. Next to him was a woman, Jut, a member of the ancient Sisters of Mercy, blonde-haired and rather tall with a serene presence about her. Across the two was Piotr, a skinny man with a penchant for conspiracies; his facial markings were curvy and elaborate, coloured in orange, which popped out thanks to his pallid skin. It meant he was part of clan Strzelecki, filled with the more scientifically minded Vaulters. As Morgana approached them, Mikolaj gestured at Piotr, "told you she'll make it."
"What made you think I wouldn't?" Morgana asked as she took the empty spot next to Piotr and ordered a pint of Sophis and two bowls of pierogi on the table's digital menu.
"Poor Piotr's developed a phobia for shadows. Thought you got possessed by yours, " Jut spoke with mock concern, "scared of the dark?" she teased Piotr.
"You would be if you've seen what I've seen," Piotr shot back.
"Yer real fuckin dramatic today, aint ya?" Mikolaj said, frustration dripping from his voice.
"And what have you seen?" Morgana asked.
Mikolaj placed a hand on his temple, "now you've got him started." Piotr was a man of many titles: village idiot, conspiracy theorist, and cryptozoologist...But he was tapped deep into the local rumour mill and spat out valuable info from time to time, so Morgana found it useful, and sometimes fun, to indulge him. To a reasonable point, at least. The thing Morgana found joy in dealing with conspiracy theorists was that sometimes they threatened to be smart. Their intricate thought patterns and the equations they form can be awe-inspiring, but only to have them ruin it by being bad at math.
"It's not just any shadows I'm talking about here, but moving ones--"
"--like ours?" Jut sarcastically asked.
"No, I mean ones that could move on their own. Look," he brings out his tablet, "there's one spotted in Raia," the picture itself was of a dark alley away with tall bright towers in the background. In the foreground was a human-shaped void creeping out the corner of the far end of the alleyway.
Mikolaj squinted his eyes, " looks dark to me. What am I supposed to see?"
"I believe you're supposed to see a sloppy edit," Morgana said, to which Jut hummed in agreement, " it's too blotchy for it to be a shadow or even a dark cloud. And it's not even moving Piotr; it's a picture. "
"That's because our current optics can't get them right, and it's not edited, I swear. Let me bring up the metadata," he taps on his tablet, "huh? It says the picture was made in PhotoRoom; that's not right... it was different just a minute ago."
"Now you're starting to see things," Morgana chided, "have you finally gone insane?"
"You mean he was sane, to begin with?" Mikolaj sardonically replied, looking into his drink. Jut gave a euphonic chuckle, forcing Mikolaj to restrain himself from forming a small smile. Adorable, but not what Morgana came here for.
From a distance, she could hear the faint sounds of conversation at the elder's table. Morgana could barely hear one of the older women at the long table say, "You are sure our benefactor will win Auriga, even against the new fleet?"
"Its dreadnought took weeks to make. It's been half a year now; it will win Auriga for us when the time is right." A bearded man replied.
"Then what's taking it so long?" A man with a scar shot back.
"Perhaps it is exploring our ancestor's halls?" the bearded man replied.
"What's there to explore? Its primitive tech there, and our homelands were at the South Pole; They landed in the north, near Nolaran. Have you gone senile?" The elderly woman retorted.
"Well," Mikolaj began, forcing Morgana to tear her focus away, " I didn't come all the way here to hear Piobłąkany's newest obsession. How are things on your end Morgs--
Morgana raised an eyebrow, "Morgs?"
"--not gonna get purged, are ya?" No, worse.
"I won't, fortunately. The man I worked for didn't bother to bring me on the same page. Played up the dumb secretary act during interrogation, and I think it worked since police haven't bothered me since and only arrested my boss instead," Morgana explained.
" That man you worked for...Ron right? The guy running for mayor in Rejerwat county?" Piotr asked as he fiddled with his tablet. Morgana hummed in agreement, "Poor guy, seemed like he had a good head on his shoulders."
"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Morgana said.
Jut leaned towards Morgana, "oh, do tell."
Morgana shook her head, "and speak ill of the dead?" Jut immediately recoiled in shock, hands on her mouth, almost scandalised. "Anyways, things are calm on my end but a bit unpleasant."
"Unpleasant, she says," Mikolaj scoffed, "that's Morgspeak for shit hitting the fan."
"The day Morgana says something is shit," Piotr began, still tapping on his tablet, "is the day this world gets Planet-Cracked."
Jut banged her open palm on the wooden table, "hear, hear."
A droid had approached them with their food in hand, placing them on the table. Morgana took a sip of Sophis, flooding her brain with a dash of Neurobang and leaving a bitter aftertaste on her tongue. Then she set herself to work on the pierogies. A comfortable silence had set in for a while as the four of them ate their food. The loud cacophony of the bar and their chewing mouths were the only things they heard. Morgana's focus shifted towards the elder's table.
"Didn't it say Fusion landed on an Endless Relic? It could be exploring that," The scarred man stated. Morgana had to keep her eyes from widening in surprise.
"Yes, it did. Casimir's men think it was a bio-lab," the elderly woman said.
The bearded man scoffed in disappointment, "Endless Bio-labs...those things are a dime a dozen. Why did the ancestors not make mention of it?"
"Because, again, it was on the north pole, near the lands of the Broken Lords; you'd be mad to explore that far." the woman replied.
"But the bloody thing is huge--"
"You train a lot, Morgana?" Piotr spoke after swallowing a spoonful of zurek. Morgana had to restrain her surprise from the interruption.
"Not recently, no."
"How do you not get fat after eating all of that?"
Morgana shrugged, "better genes?"
Mikolaj chucked, "she's built differently, it seems."
Jut caught a man approaching their table and groaned, "eyes up, we got a pierdoła at our nine-o-clock."
"Fucking hell..." Piotr murmured.
The man, Jakub, who was a clerk before the uprising, had approached them with pamphlets in hand. He gave Morgana a dirty, baleful stare. "Brothers, sisters, and... you," he gestured to Morgana, "how are you all this fine evening?"
"Was fine," Mikolaj replied, "now, not so much."
"Well, there are betters ways to spend the time than with a Raian," Jakub proposed, "that table over there," he pointed at the crowded table filled with Vaulters debating each other, "is having an enlightened--"
"Look, man, just give us your pamphlets and sell your grift; no need to invite us to your little club," Piotr spoke sternly.
"My apologies; I didn't know you were all in bed with the enemy."
"Least we're in bed with someone," Jut murmured, causing Piotr and Mikolaj to roar with laughter. Morgana merely rolled her eyes at that.
"Well," Jakub began, unfazed, placing the pamphlets on the table, "should any of you have a change of heart, my contacts are in these pamphlets." And left.
Piotr scoffed as he picked one up, "guy was a nobody till he reads a book and now thinks he's hot-shit."
Morgana picked one of the pamphlets up, "sounds like someone I know," she teased.
"Nah," Mikolaj began, "Piotr's pretentious, but he ain't a fuckwad bigot."
"Thank you!" the man himself yelled.
The pamphlet itself was an interesting read, the words, "The Shining City Upon A Hill", bolded in red, white, and blue, perhaps to resemble some sort of flag? It mentioned something regarding the "American Way" and demanded that the old Feudal Clan-Based Hierarchies of the Vaulters be torn down and replaced with a "Representative Democracy" with more checks and balances to curb the executive branch. It also painted Illona Volya, First of The Bloodline and former leader of the Vaulters, as an immortal tyrant, which, from Morgana's understanding, was quite the take. Everyone at the table made fun of it before throwing it away, except for Morgana.
When the time came to leave, Jut had pulled Morgana aside to assure her if anything went wrong, the Sisters of Mercy would be happy to shelter her. Morgana smiled at the offer and promised to give it some thought before returning home. It was too late, for she was in the dragon's maw.
A woman was waiting for Morgana there, dressed in form-fitting armour, with her face obscured by a menacing helmet. She was the same woman who had put a gun to Morgana's head to spy on the Vaulters shortly after the men from Antanov's Internal Affairs unit had done the same. Which made Morgana something of a triple agent, beholden to two competing shady groups. But it was the woman who Morgana served most loyally, for she was part of an organisation that superseded Antanov's authority. An organisation with which its founder went by the name: Kinete Mauldur.
=========================================
Auriga
(Enroute to FOB Dobrynya)
When Second Lieutenant Styker awoke to the white interior of a Sophon dropship, he'd half thought himself dead. Was this Heaven? It was only until an armoured Sophon, covered in a helmet with visors that looked like beady blue eyes, introduced herself. Uthuum Illaran was her name. Apparently, she was a Sophon material science expert hired by Duke Osilabya to research the mech's forces. An endeavour which had begun very nicely, thanks to the weapon Styker had retrieved and used on the giant. Brimming with excitement, the Sophon brought James out into the ship's lab, where the weapon was stored.
The weapon itself was contained in a glass box, and the Sophon couldn't help but launch into a whole spiel about it, "it's an intriguing weapon you've managed to retrieve. Though the lattice core that powers it is rather rudimentary, the materials this thing is made of are assembled in such a way that gives the weapon starship-grade durability. If the methodology in which---"
"Sorry to interrupt, but why am I here?" James asked.
"Ah, well, it's cause I'm embedded to your unit, 4th Recon. And bringing the two of you--"
"Two of...Is Corporal Eva here?"
"You really like to interrupt, don't you? But yes, your subordinate is here too, chilling out by the medbay. Like I was saying, bringing the two of you to Sir Edwards would be killing two flies with one stone. So relax, we'll be there shortly. Now-"
And it really was a blessing that the trip was short, or else James would've gone insane.
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Not too much Commander-related action, but hopefully Broadcast Part 2 would make up for it when I upload it.
