A Karadine Stopover
- Tarn Intra-orbital Docking Yard, Sorgalia Township, Roshkall badlands, Planet of Karadine
The horizon was dominated by pitch-black Hoodoos, cliffs of pink and white stone, and pale dunes far beneath them peppered by visible shrapnel. Remnants of a war between rival corporations over a century ago. The ruined attack craft and terrestrial vehicles dotted the sands, though they looked little more than toys from far above. Occasionally, movement and flickers of soft colour could be seen in the metal carcasses. Like ghosts of dead wage-troopers.
It was all lit by the setting sun, casting long shadows across the plateau and the landing platforms there.
Far below, dug into the stone of this rock formation there was a small city. Almost completely hidden from view. The only sign at all of the subterranean settlement were a few scattered chimneys sticking out of the sand and an air processing station built into the cliff face.
That and the TID Yard, which was the highest extension of that city. But this systems' tourist season was over and the plateau was almost completely abandoned. The lack of ships exposing a grid Circular Gencrete platforms with space for fifty civilian ships and ferries, interspersed with walkways, short utility stations, benches. And near the edge of the plateau: picnic tables and grills. An oddity maintained by system residents and their archaic 'camping' practices.
There was no security, no administrators or low wage maintenance people about. Not even a security droid.
Only a single rough ship was landed on the edge of TIDY right beside the cliff, with two people present.
The first hidden by a space fitted Ablev-Suit, an individual who had erected scaffolding all around the ship. He was busily working on the exterior plates with a searingly bright plasma-shaper. A certain animation to him as he selectively removed and reworked the now properly scaled armour of the 'brick,' occasionally looking around to see if anyone else had appeared on the plateau, before making a bigger change beneath the ablative layer. Then continuing on as if nothing had happened.
On the platform below, an elephantine Goz had yanked one of the steel picnic tables free and put it down right beside the ship's door, bringing one of the grills as well. Atop which, the entire head of some alien beast was being roasted on a spit. Stains of orange blood a little ways away the only other remnants of the beast. The Goz sat on a borrowed industrial crate, using the table as a workbench as he fashioned a hammer from sections of shaved off ship armour and chain. Slowly. Oft looking off at distant vistas. The fading day revealing two of this planet's three moons on the darkening greenish sky. Barely visible above distant clouds stained in fiery colours.
Just as Grok finished the chain-binds, from above, Heyreddin spoke. "Hey, Grozie. I got a question." Grok was silent as he tested his impromptu hammer's stability, then turned it about and struck it against the ground. This time it did not bend or give as it left a smattering of cracks in the Gencrete. "I thought your people were all out in Hado space."
"We are. 'Cept my own self." Grok finally said, putting down the hammer and turning back to his grill. "Maybe a few that kept walkin' 'til they left the Empire."
Heyreddin's helmeted head appeared. He'd reached the back of the ship and now peered down at Karadine's largest 'camper.' "Not you though?"
On the grill, the meat was now dripping translucent juices, the skin darkening but not yet burnt. Grok continued turning his dinner on the spit. "I didn't go willing. Some volinrat got the better of me. Framed me. I'm dead to the Hado now."
There was no reply as above, the suited SCRAPPER yanked out an entire armour segment, a pile of rust and a living... Thing falling out. The snake-like lifeform vanished as it slithered down the ship and out of sight. "Any plans to even the score?"
Grok looked up as the glow of the plasma tool illuminated the man above. "If I did, I wouldn' be long on the tongue 'bout it. Yet."
"Well. This run goes well and you need my talent, don't be shy about calling." The mercenary went on as Grok, satisfied with his cooking withdrew a sharpened steel bar. For others it was a javelin. For him? It was a stiletto. He impaled the head, pulling it off the skewer as he cut the grill's gas. Looking up the spacer had stopped cutting. "At least, if your target is an eccentric screw-head with more credits than sense. Bonus if he's got a ship with a few vaults I can crack after we leave it drifting in orbit. Can't imagine who'd take a contract to shaft one of your people. Then manage to get one over on you and not kick you from a shuttle a mile up."
"They might have. Jus' didn't take is all." Grok conceded, Heyreddin watching him for a moment longer before the Goz began eating. Making Heyreddin return to work on the armour. Partly because of their time frame. This needed to be done. Fast if the owner of the thing came through on his request.
Partly to ignore the cracking of bone as Grok destroyed his dinner.
Neither man said anything, soon as he was fed Grok returned the unbolted grill to where he'd ripped it from the foundation. Above Heyreddin continued his combination of maintenance and reworks. As soon as he'd figured out what exactly the five or so ship-techs before him had done to make this thing, standardizing had been fast. If occasionally paused by 'interesting' discoveries. Bits of advanced armour that had no right being on this brick and a stunning amount of astrofauna. Most of which was already dead or dying from the atmosphere, except one 'space trilobite' which needed to be tossed when it immediately moved to chew on his foot.
The brainless thing was kicked, and after hitting the ground it scuttled off beneath a toll terminal. As it did, Heyreddin noticed someone climb out of the stairwell, on the opposite side of the TIDY.
Hours ago when they'd landed, Ta'ang had run off to perform 'a quick tunnel job.' The Clone and the Goz hadn't questioned it, it wasn't the first or even the second time she'd vanished to earn some extra credits during a stopover. During which, the suit-clad mercenary had oscillated between genuine confusion, occasional horror, and nostalgia for his first ship as he worked. Grok staying beside on the ground level to keep an eye on things. She'd find her way back eventually and they'd go. Usually a bit richer.
So it was today as the oil splattered mutant returned, the clank of silver ingots audible as she walked. Under one arm was a large box of unmarked metal, the other pulling along a lev-wagon behind, filled with the cans of hull finisher Heyreddin had been asking for since they'd left Ukko-971.
She half hummed half whistled as she went, stopping beside Grok and dropping the box in his lap. "Jagootz, na shezhai." She whispered, patting him on the side and going on.
The noise of the plasma spray cut above. "Why does he get free shit and I don't?" The Ablev-Helmet peaked down again.
"Ye' go' all the material for 'at project. As your free shi'" Ta'ang deactivated the levitating cargo lift beside the scaffolding, letting it hit the Gencrete with a dull 'thunk.'
"I'm only doing the necessary maintenance." Heyreddin managed to say.
The mutant laughed. "Necessary assa' fancy stuff ya' keep askin' for." Heyreddin raised a finger but didn't have a response in order when she vanished into the ship below. The doors shutting to begin a 'decontamination process.' Or the truncated version of a decon' that Ta'ang used as a shower.
Grok looked at the box and shook it slightly, as Heyreddin stamped down the scaffolding, muttering under his breath such that his voice occasionally picked up from his microphone. "Back - basics. - 'Daz - Got-" The Goz preemptively stood, allowing the baseliner human to kick open the crate-turned-chair. Heyreddin rifled around within and came away with a solid blue ration bottle.
He cranked his emergency inductions port and pulled out a sterilizing straw, sipping as Grok opened his package. Out came a monstrous personal computer, an armour plated wrist-piece clearly sized for the intended owner. It had a screen of unbreakable Lazcinium-Glass with a few keys big enough for Grok. Not a small feat.
Heyreddin leaned in as Grok put it on. "19-90 PVCyN. Good multipurpose system but way too basic for me though. Custom chassis and interface as well?" He pulled back to take another sip. "She trying to butter you up or something?"
"No." Grok said immediately.
"You sure? I've seen string of 'Free Vac-Rations' offered to us on this trip. None of which were free."
Grok said nothing as he checked over the wrist computer, unconcerned with the software, his focus was on the casing. An extra layer of Plasteel now bound about his wrist. "I'll say this, Copy-man. Every scurryin' kyg and volinrat out here operates on pay. Favours." He closed the crate and sat back down. Then drove the wrist with his new equipment against the table. The metal surface caved instantly, leaving a bent crater about his upper arm. Grok checked the 19-90. Unscathed, it booted up just fine. "But when we made war on Goz? We didn' have the time for quick coin. One of my smashers broke his maul on a skull? I toss him my side axe. Soon as possible. Failing that? I'm picking him up and throwin' him over their shields. Let him run wild. With the toothy-one? Like I'm right back home, in that."
The helmeted man nodded, the gesture almost hidden by his helmet. "Emergency situation shit? I can understand, I think. No opportunity to be selfish. At least if you don't want to get wasted." Heyreddin said, then checked on the cans of hull finisher. All the top grade shit he'd asked for, though probably smuggled, as he noted the SC-Barcodes were slashed. Wasting no time he activated the lev-wagon and moved to pull it up to the top of the ship.
"What about you?"
He stopped. "What about me?"
"I heard mutterings. Yak has a bad habit. Heard about someone who killed you. Your face-name, at least." Grok leaned forward. "You seekin' revenge?"
A cold laugh was heard through the suit's microphone, distorted by motion beneath the helmet. "I'm going to make him regret a lot of things. Just a matter of time. He made that a reality when he didn't put a bullet hole in my helmet right before he tossed me into space."
"Certain of that?"
Heyreddin swivelled about to face Grok. "Certain is the only thing I have for that debt. There is a single question to it: am I'm putting a round through his head in low orbit, or am I using a ship to ram a three thousand pound torpedo up his private yacht's backside?" He stopped, audibly taking a deep breath. "Don't suppose I could bring you on for that if an opportunity comes up? All else fails, I get a bunch of SCRAPPERs to punch into his ship and I can return that air-lock jettison personally."
"I'd hear it. If nothin' else, you got my ears."
"All I can ask from you big guy." With that, Heyreddin turned about pulling his new found finish with him up the scaffolding.
He got to work immediately, completing the armour and jumping to apply the new finish to the smoothed exoskeleton. Grok listened to the hiss of the compression sprayer for a while, before he looked down to the ruined public table. Specifically the fist shaped depression that was now its centrepiece. The Goz did not stay idle, bending the metal roughly back into shape with his hands before he hauled the table up over his shoulder. As if it weighed nothing at all.
It felt like that to him.
While he couldn't bolt it back down Grok could return it to where he'd found it. Right on the cliff's edge. A five hundred foot drop not two steps away.
The day was almost dead.
But Grok remained, pulling out his Compass and letting it rest in his open palm. As always, it turned on its own accord.
Once, a fancy Hado scholar had explained his understanding of the Artifact. Grok had forgotten a lot of that explanation. Mostly because the bearded old book-lover had loved silly long words and the sound of his own voice. For the rest? Grok, son of Gork, did not need to complicate this. He needed nothing more than a horizon no Goz before him had seen, the path revealed by his relic, and some people beside.
Steps. A familiar skittish gait that prompted him to pocket the Compass.
"Pretty view isn' i'?" Ta'ang asked, reaching his side.
The sun finally fell behind the horizon, three crescent moons dominated the sky and the sea of stars above. "Gorjus."
They remained, as the wind whispered and the lights of the bio-luminescent wildlife appeared below. Little dots of soft pink and blue crawling out of ancient wrecks that hid their burrows. Like the stars above brought to the surface now slithering across the land. A captivating sight that held the two disparate mutants. Until the noise of Heydreddin flash-drying the coat with a flamethroweresque torch blasted, ending the moment. Ta'ang rapped her hand against his thigh.
He had to look down, the Troglodyte was short compared to the baseliners, but on him? She was barely eye-level with his hip. Not that she seemed daunted as she craned her head up in sync. "Anythin' I can grab for ye' chief? Soon as Red-Hay finishes 'is work we' goin'. Need ta' pick up somethin' an' 'en we're on tha' Job."
"Nah. All good." She didn't wait on him, turning and walking off towards the ship with the top lit by Heyreddin's torch. Which could probably be seen from miles off as he truly let loose.
Grok watched her go, hand going to the compass hidden on his person one last time.
Then he followed.