The call for retribution. Corbus Vetch pt1

I started awake at the sudden noise, banged my forehead on the top of the slumber recess and swore profusely. 

The infotainment screen on the wall of the night rent habitation module was the source of the over-loud chiming that had startled me. The screen was flashing with the message ‘Incoming call’.

I wasn’t sure who could be calling, as no one knew I was here. I had flown into Bliss City late last night to start two weeks leave and this had been the first room I had found after visiting a couple of bars. I’d paid cash, no credit trace.

I slipped out of the slumber recess, picked the snub barrelled shotgun from its harness where it was hanging from the hook on the door and padded up the narrow module to the window. The non slip, easy-clean rubber flooring felt cold on my bare feet. I glanced through the gap between the blinds; I looked to be at least ten stories up and facing the blank concrete wall of another building, some sort of warehouse or processing plant. I hadn’t exactly paid for a view. Nowhere for a sniper to be hiding though.

“Answer” I said, keeping myself out of view of the infotainment screen and keeping the gun ready toward the module door, couldn’t be too safe. In my line of work there was always someone looking to get a jump on me.

“I have a call holding for you Mr Cord” it was the hab-rent receptionist, I recognised her from when I checked in. The clock in the bottom corner of the screen stated it was four twenty three AM, I had been here less than two hours.

“Did they say who they were?” I asked.

“No Mr Cord, but it is a secure line from the Warden Primary Conclave.” She replied.

I relaxed and walked into view of the screen.

“That’s fine, I’ll take it. Thank you.”

The screen blanked out then flashed and fuzzed with signal scramble before resolving into the face of Warden Upholder Dorusman.

“Morning Mr, uhm, Cord, I trust you are well rested” said Dorusman.

“Sure, who needs more than two hours sleep anyway? How the hell did you trace me so quick? I am on leave you know. Well deserved too, that was two years straight to catch Romms” I said.

“Romms is why I’m calling you, I’m afraid” replied Dorusman, “There’s a problem.”

“Don’t tell me the bastard escaped again already, I just brought him in, can't the idiots in containment lock doors?" I sat down heavily on the recessed cot and ran a hand over my crewcut scalp.

“For him to escape you would have had to catch him in the first place” said Dorusman.

“What?”

“It wasn’t Romms, Vetch.”

“I ran ident tests. DNA confirmed he was Romms.” I felt my stomach dropping, I couldn’t believe this.

“The sap you brought in was one Solomonder Prawes, a Rust prospector. He’d been given a DNA mask, pretty advanced gene manipulation work too” replied Dorusman.

“Where the hell did he get that done? That’s cutting edge tech. Humana Corporation Labs are only just trialing that for us now aren’t they?” I asked.

“We can only presume Romms had someone in HCL. This Prawes said he was down on his luck and he was offered five thousand bonds to test a drug. Apparently he was given an injection at the health centre in Feris the day before you brought him in” said Dorusman. 

“And he didn’t realise his face had changed? That’s bullshit, he’s an accomplice, just torture him for Romms’ whereabouts and I’ll go haul the real bastard in tomorrow” I growled. I didn’t have the patience for this, I thought the Romms case was finally over, he’d been particularly elusive but the Corporation was paying well for him. 

Unusually well for a small time, pain in the ass eco-nut. 

The bonus on the job had made me wonder why they wanted him so bad but as a Warden Retributor I never really worried about the details too much, just hunted the perps down and dragged them in, no matter how far they tried to run. 

Or eliminated them if that was what was asked, and it often was. 

Now, a tech leak in HCL, that explained the price and the reason I was forbidden to just put a bullet between his eyes, they wanted to know how he got his hands on their secrets.

“The Warden Administration does not partake of torture Vetch, neither do we condone those practices, a Retributor of your standing should know that.”

“Quite the political party line Upholder, but this line’s secure, turn the screws on the little shit and let’s get this over and done with, I’ve got two hundred K in bonds to party with and two weeks in Bliss to do it.” I snapped.

“Mr Prawes has co-operated fully with us on this matter and offered us some invaluable leads on Romms and his associates, the data is uploaded to your repository you can peruse it on Skim Flight 3X7 from the Malpin Overpass Launch, it departs at oh-six-hundred. Restock will rendezvous with you thirty minutes before. Bring him in alive and do it fast.” Said Dorusman.

“That’s what takes so damn long, catching him without harming him. He realised I can’t shoot him at our first encounter so he doesn’t fear me and what’s a Retributor without fear?” 

“I said he has to be alive, nothing more. You have two weeks.” With that he cut the line and left me staring at static.

So Prawes had co-operated fully. That meant he had been tortured, but why the caution in saying it straight on a secure line? Probably auditing being carried out by liberal innerworld penpushers making sure our actions weren’t breaching protocols or rights or some crap. No doubt I’ll have to suffer an HR investigation for my comments after I close the case again. Or finally close it. I'd have to remember not to shoot the investigator like last time.

I contemplated going back to bed and ignoring it all, I was on vacation after all, but Romms had pissed me off enough to forgoe my much needed relaxation in favour of some well deserved retribution. Dorusman said he only needed to be alive, why hadn’t I just shot his legs off? Seemed obvious now, but that’s me all over, always thinking of the kill shot. Well Romms wasn’t going to be feeling so clever when I pop up unexpected in his bolt hole.

I quickly freshened up, packed my bag and headed for the door, I’d catch this skim, then it would be two shots to Romms’ knees and I’d be back in Bliss before nightfall.

Of course I wasn’t accounting for the fact that Romms was a slippery little bastard who would be expecting me because he planted all the information in Prawes along with the new face and I was getting led on another merry goose chase.

At least I would be proved right about Prawes being an accomplice. 

Told you so Dorusman.

Freshmeat. (Dramic pt1)

Dramic wiped the sweat from his eyes as it trickled from under his helmet. With his heart hammering in his chest he inched along the wall towards the door that stood, slightly ajar, at the end of the corridor. He adjusted his grip on his lasrifle, wiping each hand dry on his leg as he did, and stepped over a mouldering corpse lying across the dusty red carpet. He tried not to gag at the fetid smell.

 His first day of active duty was not going well so far. His dropship had been hit before it had even reached the planet atmosphere and he had endured a bone juddering plummet to the surface, held in place by his crash harness. The pilot had done his best to stabalise the craft, but they had still ploughed into the side of a res-spire. Only nine of his company plus the pilot had survived the crash. Three of those were so badly wounded that they had to be left at the ruined ship.

Now he had spent the last two hours on point, as they made their way through the huge war torn building. His nerves were in shreds. They hadn’t met a soul but every corner and every doorway hid potential death.

 He looked over at Krovic who was mirroring him on the opposite wall. The tall man nodded slightly in return and Dramic stepped forward to push open the door. The floor under his foot creaked loudly and he quickly snatched it back. Krovic’s eyes were wide in alarm and they both froze, straining to hear any movement in the silence.

Nothing.

Dramic looked back at the rest of his squad, their green camoflage at odds with the opulent upspire interior. Sergeant Rogiric chopped two fingers rapidly by the side of his face. Go.

Dramic reached to his neck and drew out the Sainted charm he wore for luck and kissed it. He then held three fingers up to Krovic and dropped them one by one. On the last, he kicked open the door and darted inside, las rifle sweeping the room to the left as Krovic followed covering the right.

The room was a large open plan living area. One side given over to comfy seating, a low drinks table and cabinet with a pict caster and holovid entertainment unit. The other side was a kitchen and dining area with a large darkwood table surrounded by ornately carved high back chairs. Everything was covered in dust and rubble and windswept detritus filled every corner. The opposite wall gaped into open sky, only ragged remains of concrete and twisted steel support rods remained.

Dramic saw the man calmly sitting at the large desk facing the door, shotgun pointing across the surface at them. He threw himself screaming at Krovic while twisting himself round to fire three shots towards the man at the desk. Krovic stepped back and Dramic crashed to the floor, two of his shots zinging harmlessly into the open sky. The third hitting the seated man across the top of his scalp. The las round set fire to the man’s hair but he continued to sit quietly.

“Nice heroics, Freshmeat” Krovic said “You nailed a stiff.”

“He’s dead?” Dramic questioned.

Sergeaent Rogiric and the rest of the squad burst through the doorway, guns ablaze.

The body in the chair rocked backwards, perforated by nearly two dozen las bolts. The neck snapped and the head fell to the floor with a hollow thud, the hair still smoking.

“Yeah, definitely dead.” Krovic stated dryly. He then turned to Rogiric.

“Clear.” He said with a grin.

The Seargent grunted and stomped across to the destroyed wall to gaze out onto the cityscape beyond. Hundreds of spires rose skyward like reaching fingers. All showed signs of damage from the war, their surfaces pockmarked by shells or gaping open to reveal their derelict guts.

Rogiric pulled out his deployment map, the small rectangle showed the frontline. His deployment area and objectives were highlighted. He flipped it over but the back was blank card. He ripped the waterproof covering from the map and pulled the paper out, the back of that was blank too.

“Great.” He tossed the map onto the floor in disgust.

“What’s up Chief?” Krovic asked, he was rummaging in the cupboards of the kitchen area.

“Command issued us with a map of where we were meant to be, but kept the big picture for themselves. I have no idea where we are. I think we might be in Ciliphos.”

“So let’s hitch a ride back to the front before the Flagellator notices we’ve gone.” Krovic had pulled some tins out onto the work surface and was busy prying the top from some Golo beans with his combat knife.

“Ciliphos is about two hundred miles north of the front. On the enemy side.” Rogiric gazed out over the city again.

The pilot, Rostov joined him, holding onto a twisted steel rod protruding from the ceiling to steady himself. They were about two miles up on the spire which rose for another half mile or so above them, some of the surrounding spires seemed to stretch even higher. The pilot surveyed the horizon for landmarks.

“This city is too big for Ciliphos. The only city I can remember from our briefings that was this size would have been Xanatopholos.” Rostov said.

Rogiric looked blank.

“It’s about fifteen hundred miles north of the line and about an hour out from the Dusk I’m afraid” the pilot explained.

“Fifteen hundred?” Dramic exclaimed, “How can we be fifteen hundred miles off course?”

“Hey don’t fret it Freshmeat, the Chief will get us home” Krovic tossed a can at Dramic, “Have something to eat.”

“How can you think about food at a time like this?” Dramic almost shrieked.

“Well if we’ve got fifteen hundred miles to walk, I want to have more than some sachets of insta-meals to keep me going.” Krovic replied.

“He’s right” Rogiric said, “We should rest here for a while before we move on. Pass me a can”

He caught the offering from Krovic.

“Peas? I’m not eating anything green” and he tossed the can back. “How are the Golo beans?”

“Not bad. Be better hot. Here.” Another can passed across the room.

Zorov, Doric and Kaskarov the other three troopers had clustered around Krovic, selecting cans of food for themselves.

Dramic looked down at his tin, the label was missing. “What’s in this one?”

“Who knows? You want the peas instead?” Krovic raised the peas with a smirk.

“Not really.” Dramic replied stabbing his knife into the lid. Gravy dripped out of the perforation. He sniffed the contents, it smelled quite rich.

“Hey, you got stew. Want to swap for Golos?” Krovic stepped forward.

Dramic refused and shovelled some of the meat and gravy into his mouth chewing quickly, he didn’t realise how hungry he actually was.

Krovic burst out laughing. He held up a label ripped from a can.

Pet food.

Dramic felt his gut heave and then emptied his stomach into a corner of the room as the others laughed at him.

“Look on the bright side, we won’t be calling you Freshmeat anymore” Krovic clapped him on the back, “Dogmeat!”

More laughter. Dramic retched again. “Bastard!”