by Pyrodox
CHARACTERS
Squire, Pyrodox, Saleria, Manriol, Paslik
The industrial planet of Coroba was seemingly covered in a blanket of rust. Its heavily polluted clouds reduced the sun to a solid gray disc that barely illuminated the metallic landscape. Mallory certainly did not enjoy visiting planets such as this, but this was a particularly lucrative assignment. Not only that, the targets were particularly vile pieces of work, and job satisfaction was important to her.
Dominic Paslik was a truly abominable man. Leader of the Coroban Mining Guild, he had practically enslaved the small planet’s population for its resources. Of course, the low-cost ores produced by this depressing world were lucrative enough for the United Galactic Alliance to turn a blind eye its abuses; in fact, one would think twice before questioning that apathy. Mallory didn’t believe killing Paslik and his minions would accomplish all that much, but it was certainly an appealing prospect to serve some justice. Perhaps these people might even have a chance to take their home back.
Something caught the attention of her heightened sense of smell. Hidden in the stench and filth of the smog something else was burning, something more natural. An incense of some unidentified type. She followed it, rounding a corner in one of Coroba’s jungles of ruined concrete to find a mysterious cairn dug into the earthen floor of what was once a room. Rising from a smoldering pot with the smoke was a wooden stake.
With a skull mounted at its apex.
Chains were draped down from its chapless maw, chains that each ended in a cruel hook.
“Lovely,” Mallory muttered before she put some thought into it and more appropriately added, “Charming.” She began to cross the oddly interminable stretch of ground to get a closer look at it. At the very least she should collect a sample of the strange incense that had stimulated her in the first place. And yet, she was beginning to feel unusually disturbed by the experience, like she was being watched. The room framed the skull perfectly, with tangled rebar seeming to point to it like demonic tentacles. There was no apparent threat, but she had learned to trust her instincts. She decided not to waste too much time casing the area since she had work to do. At least that’s what she like to think that’s what her reason was.
Having scouted the area, Mallory reported back to the safe house with the other mercenaries who had accepted the job. It was a daunting task and it had a surprisingly appropriate number of people working on it, including a small PMC with dropships and everything. She wondered who had managed to raise enough money to finance such a task. The Coroban refugee who was the contact certainly had the motive, but no apparent means other than anonymous benefactors.
She sat down with the others and discussed the plan of attack. With the reconnaissance of herself and a few of the more experienced operators, as well as help from a local police chief, they had a detailed layout of the grounds surrounding Paslik’s compound, as well as those of his accomplices. Mallory of course was assigned to the former, along with the PMC’s largest force. In addition to infantry tactics, the plan included light air support. It was a risky job, but it seemed like it could work. She reviewed the files of the targets that her team would be focusing on:
PASLIK, DOMINIC ALBANTO
Human Male, 46
Homeworld: Haradia VI
Education: Business Certification A, Haradia University
Military Experience: N/A
Entrepeneur. Cartel Lord. Criminal Record includes extortion, fraud. Head of the Coroban Mining Guild.
GORODA, ALLO
Heiscian Female, 34
Homeworld: Heiscian
Education: Business Certification A, The Raman School
Military Experience: N/A
Paslik’s second-in-command and chief advisor. Rumored to be his mistress as well.
CRANNOL
Coroban Male, 40
Homeworld: Coroba
Education: Unit 41 Primary Educational Facility, Coroba
Military Experience: Coroban Militia, Major
Paslik’s Chief of Security
AMARAG, HENROL
Human Male, 50
Homeworld: Centrala IV
Education: Biology Doctor’s Certification, The Central Institute
Military Experience: N/A
Personal Doctor and scientist to Paslik. Reported to perform experiments on Coroban natives, with the resultant research being sold for a profit by the Guild
MANRIOL, ALLIASON MENRIK
Human Male, 35
Homeworld: Haradia VI
Education: Sociology Certification A, Haradia University
Militar Experience: N/A
Friend and hanger-on to Paslik.
NOLAN, EMMIS
XX (Chameleon) Male, 40
Homeworld: [Redacted]
Education: History Certification C, Aslia Academy
Military Experience: Aslian Special Forces, O-3. Experience in Aslian Civil War as well as numerous [redacted] independent operations.
Each of these men’s heads was going for at least 10,000 credits. Mallory decided to retire to bed for some much-needed rest in preparation for the operation, but she had to ask the police chief a question.
“Chief Canas, I would like to discuss something.”
“Yes?” he replied disinterestedly.
“I found something in the urban ruins in sector five today. It was a post, with a skull and chains hanging from the skull. There was incense coming from it.”
“Oh,” he rounded his eyes, “Just some new cult springing up in some circles. We think it might be some sort of expression of rebellion. Nutty human sacrifice stuff or something.”
Like the place doesn’t already have plenty of that thanks to Amarag. “I couldn’t find any precedent for it in Coroban history. And the incense is not found on any records.”
“We’re trying to look into it. Pay it no mind. Just a few desperate savages.”
A few desperate savages. One would not be wise to underestimate a population’s desperation. And Mallory certainly did not want to underestimate the feeling she got from that spot.
The moonless night was perfect for the operation. A few clandestine throat-cuttings (if one was unable to avoid it), and everyone was in position. Mallory’s genetic enhancements, as well as her species, gave her a natural edge in this environment. They all knew that the compound would have the most advanced defense systems available to any private entity. Even the surplus aircraft would give the PMC a run for its money if things got messy. Now was the moment of truth.
Mallory had reached and secured the primary security office with some of the more skilled mercs, and set a time-released deactivator on the compound’s sensor and shield arrays. After clearing out of the indefensible room, assumed cover and waited the for the moment that the sabotage would come into effect. Everybody knew that the back-up systems would be activated within a minute, but that was long enough for the PMC’s AT-120 dropships to insert the cavalry.
When the alarm went off, security personnel predictably rushed to station, only to be ambushed by Mallory and Co. Within a minute the firefight had begun in earnest. Expensive wood splintered into the atmosphere, which was already thickening from the smoke and damaged lighting. Mallory and her partners were making progress toward the targets’ private quarters. Proof of Death, that was the contract. Well, one of the targets was apparently saving them some of the footwork on that; Emmis Nolan had decided to meet them in battle.
With two well-aimed shots, Paslik’s top assassin killed Mallory’s partner, Matthias she believed his name was. He seemed like a good enough guy. Fortunately, she took cover just in time for a laser bolt just singe her hair. The sound of frenzied suppressing fire from his weapon alerted her to one of Nolan’s more aggressive techniques. She shifted soon enough to avoid a knife slash around the corner he had just charged up to. She impulsively shoved her pistol to his head. Too close. He swatted it out of her hand with his empty rifle, prompting her to attain some distance. They stared at each other. Mallory knew she couldn’t risk drawing her submachine gun, and Nolan could not be distracted with reloading his gun. She drew her own knife and pointed it. A couple of armored security guards released the tension by showing up with their guns trained on her. With lightning speed Mallory rushed Nolan, locking their knives together while using him as a shield. In the next instant she unholstered his backup weapon and shot the three guards. Before she could close her gun arm around the back of his head, he shoved her away and with inhuman precision reacquired his pistol from her fleeting hand, flipping it into a proper two-handed grip. His knife clattered unnoticed on the ground. Another genetically enhanced. Mallory spun away from the burst of fire he immediately sent her way, finding cover and time to take out her automatic.
Mallory heard the gunshots die out sporadically. There had also been a few explosions from outside the complex, most certainly gunships. Friend’s or foe’s, she didn’t know which.
“It’s over,” Nolan sneered.
“Yeah, but for whom?” Despite her bluster, Mallory could tell something was wrong.
“You know who. You don’t hear any aircraft making extractions, do you? Or any more movement away from the Inner Sanctum? Face it, bitch, you lost.” He shrugged. “We knew exactly how many were in your party. That’s all it took. (“You’re boring me,” Mallory interjected.) Beef up the security accordingly, keep our bosses in the panic room until it allll blew over.” He eyed her smugly. “You were right not to trust Canas, but he knew enough. Sometimes it’s simple math.”
“I’ll have a talk with him.”
“You’re not going to have a talk with anybody except Paslik. But don’t worry, it won’t take too long.”
The squads of security guards that had appeared on all sides of Mallory proved him right. She reluctantly conceded the point, and dropped her weapons. She was escorted into the smoldering corridor. It was strewn with bodies and scorch marks. She eventually found herself in an opulent dining room. Perhaps a little too opulent. A little too many statues, many of them lying haphazardly across the dining table and floor, their red-trimmed coloration clashing tackily with the plain white of their marble counterparts. Paslik, sat at end of the table, glaring at her and sipping wine in apparent obliviousness to the carnage surrounding him. By his side were Dr. Amarag, Crannol, and a decidedly pathetic-looking man she took to be Manriol. One was absent.
“I believe you and your friends have incurred some unexpected expenses.”
“Yeah, I know the feeling. You’re just barely making ends meet, and then your car breaks down.”
“I didn’t build an entire corporate empire simply to be taken out by one measly op.”
“We attacked your secondary compounds. Did you throw them under the bus to beef up security here?”
“Those resources can be replaced. I have powerful friends in the UGA.”
“Replaceable. I take it the rumors of Goroda’s being your mistress were exaggerated.”
“I’m a businessman, young lady,” he shrugged. “Every businessman knows that beauty is sometimes a fair sacrifice for profit.” Manriol giggled at this.
An inappropriately staid butler delivered what was no doubt an exquisite meal to the mogul, who thanked him. “Now, we will have to ask you a few questions.”
“I’m not at liberty to reveal my sources.”
“Nevertheless, you will tell me who your client is. This…mess cannot stand.”
Crannol’s beeper went off. Paslik’s head of security held it up and pressed the transmit button. “Yes?”
“Sir, backup is approaching the compound, requesting permission to land.”
“Very well, proceed.”
“That is a bit…early,” Nolan observed uneasily. “How many craft?”
“You can check yourself, if you’re uncomfortable, Nolan.” The chameleon grunted and swiftly left the room. Mallory didn’t want to let on that they should trust his instincts.
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