Mercenaries’ Tale – 4.10 Questions and Answers
The lumber mill was situated on the main road leading into this side of the town, it being the first thing anyone entering the township would see. The world beyond this entrance was dominated by forest which fed the logging industry which in turn supplied the construction company that was responsible for the building of log cabins that dominated Polaris. The large cabin that Rorik had mentioned was on the opposite side of the street.
Most of the residential cabins the mercs had seen thus far were bungalows that had been cheaply thrown together for a baseline level of comfort. Most residents left their families in their home countries with the plan to send money back, the cabins here each being built for a single person.
The Chief’s cabin had two floors, it having originally been a store front that had been converted into liveable space. The outside sported an expansive decking and a quaint balcony, the front of the house dominated by large floor-to ceiling windows on both floors. The decking had originally been used to display the wares of the shop but now had been converted into a small garden, potted plants shielding much of the lower windows. The place looked luxurious compared to the surrounding buildings.
As The Chief approached the front door with plans to enjoy his afternoon off, he paused as he noticed the number of owls circling overhead.
The Chief was a slender blonde man, his skin nearly as pale as the snow he was standing in. He was still wearing his work uniform; a black suit with a black coat that had the Genetix logo emblazoned on the back. His sharp eyes scanned the windows but nothing seemed out of place besides the number of birds above him.
Unsettled, The Chief’s hand came to rest on his firearm as he cautiously made his way up the decking’s steps.
Upon reaching the door, he found it was open. The inside of the frame had been reduced to splinters, the door having been forced open. He drew his pistol, his throat tightening.
There were two sets of snowy footprints running through the living room, disappearing into the kitchen. The Snow looked to be melting, suggesting that the intruders had been here for some time.
He crept forward, following the trail deeper into the house.
He made it half-way through the living room when a floorboard creaked behind him. The Chief turned just in time for a large fist to slam into the side of his face, sending him sprawling over a foot rest, his head slamming into the oak wood floor. The last thing he saw before he passed out was a pair of feet clad in nothing but a pair of ratty socks silently strolling towards him…
When he awoke it quickly became clear that he was no longer in his lavish abode.
He was in a warehouse of sorts. The smell of lumber filled his nostrils. The surface he was lying on was curved, ropes holding him in place. The sound of bickering met his ears.
“This guy ever gonna wake up?”
“You were the one to put him to sleep. Why’d you hit him so hard?”
“I thought he could take it, didn’t I! How was I supposed to know he’d drop like a sack of potatoes!?”
“Shh, he’s moving…” The Chief thrashed his head around for a better look at his surroundings, quickly becoming aware that his mouth had been tapped shut.
“MMPH!” he locked eyes on his assailants. There were two of them: a slim red-headed woman who was sitting on a pile of wooden planks, a bored expression on her ruddy face and a tall man wearing goggles and a stupid hat. The Chief’s gaze settled on the bionic arm and he very quickly pieced together who these two were, the security chief struggling against his bindings with a renewed panic.
“Oi! C’mon, mate, there’s no need for that! We haven’t even started yet!” Doug’s voice chastised the bound man as the mercenary strolled over, his human hand coming to rest on the prisoner’s shoulder.
“Look, yard’s closed, innit? No workers in the mill today. No one’s around to hear you so you may as well save your breath,” Doug was leaning over the man now, his head appearing upside-down to his captive as he stood by the top of the log he was tied to.
“Now, me and my friend over there just have a few questions and we hear you might be able to answer them! If you behave then we’ll tuck you back in your fancy cabin and leave you be, no harm no foul, right?” he smiled innocently at the security chief, the expression slowly taking on a more sinister air as the mercenary proceeded, “but, if you scream or otherwise piss us off by misbehavin’, then…well…I’ve got this new toy I’m itching to have a play with!” he pointed with his bionic hand, the Chief’s gaze following the length of the prosthetic until he laid eyes on the large buzz saw at the end of the contraption he was currently on top of. He was tied to a log that was resting on a conveyor belt. The man let out a muffled yelp upon laying eyes on it.
“Now then,” Doug leaned down closer to the man’s face, “I’m going to take the tape off, alright?” he pulled the tape off in one quick motion, the Chief gasping in pain and for air before screaming at the top of his lungs.
“HELP! SOMEBODY HELP! GET ME OUTTA-” tape was slammed back onto his face so forcefully that the Chief thought his teeth would bruise. Doug made a “tsk tsk” noise with his tongue.
“I warned you mate, this is on you!” chirped the soldier as he strolled over to the controls for the saw. The Chief craned his head to see what Doug was doing. The sound of the blade starting to rotate filled the space. The log the man was tied to lurched forward as Doug hit the button to activate the conveyor belt, the look on his face reminiscent of a child pulling apart an insect out of pure curiosity.
The blade inched closer.
Wood began to chip off the log as it met the steel.
The Chief squealed in anticipation, his eyes tightly closed to the point that tears were beginning to well.
He let out another squeal as the log lurched to a halt and continued for an embarrassingly long time before he realised that it wasn’t due to hitting the saw blade. Everything had been shut off. The Chief risked a peak to see the red head with her hand on the controls for the conveyor belt, McCracken stood behind her with his arms folded over his chest. Both were staring at him awkwardly, waiting for him to stop squealing long enough to ask a question or two. The Chief settled down into a series of soft whimpers before finally falling silent, the redhead struggling to remain patient in her role as good cop where as the bad cop, aka Doug, was biting his lip to hold back his amusement.
“I can’t keep my partner here from having his fun for long so I suggest you give us something…” she stated, trying to sound like someone taking their designated role seriously but clearly finding it hard not to sound annoyed. Doug didn’t need to try very hard to look the part as he was itching to push past her and press the button again if only because he found their captive’s squeals funny. The Chief gulped and nodded, allowing Doug to remove the tape once again.
“Wh-what do you want?” his voice was shaky and uneven, terror permeating it. Doug couldn’t help but grin.
“Let’s start with something simple,” Kate began, ignoring whatever face Doug was making behind her back, “What is it Genetix does exactly? What sort of company are they?”
“And don’t go acting the tough guy and messing about with a bunch of lies! We want answers here!” pressed Doug, attempting to leer over Kate’s shoulder. The Chief flinched.
“I’ll tell you whatever you want! Don’t hurt me! Please!” Doug seemed to deflate a little at the man’s terror. He thought this guy was supposed to be a swaggering cock that would put up a fight. This was quite pathetic by comparison, Doug feeling bad for the guy.
“Well…good…answer the question then…”
“They do genetic research, mostly. Sell gene therapies to pharmaceutical companies. Research and development into Bio-mechanical technology and interfaces. Develop modified crops and animals for the agricultural sector. One of their biggest clients is Aquarius Springs-” a thought occurred, a determined expression rushing across his face “You don’t want to fuck with one of the Pillar’s associates! You’ve already got the big one after you, you don’t want to add another!” the mercenaries shared a glance, McCracken starting to chuckle whereas O’Donnell merely looked amused by this feeble attempt to scare them off.
“I don’t think Aquarius Springs are going to be coming to your rescue anytime soon, but we’ll take it under consideration. What else can you tell us?”
“Preferably the stuff that ain’t in the brochures your marketing guys hand out to Joe-Public,” added Doug. The Chief squirmed against his bindings.
“I dunno what goes on in the basement levels, I just run security for the above-ground labs!” he protested.
“That implies some seedy shit goes on downstairs…” observed Doug.
“Err…I mean…there are rumours. PSF military contracts, human specimen that go downstairs and never make it back up, that sorta thing…” this caused Doug to make a chuffing noise.
“The PSF don’t mess with soldiers’ genetics! The Commander would never allow that bullshit!”
“We don’t deal with the Commander but I’ve seen PSF accountants and salesmen getting tours of the facility and have even gone down to the lower levels…”
“Anderson, Maris and Flynne…” Kate muttered to herself.
“Who?” Doug was staring at his companion in confusion. The gunslinger cleared her throat, clearly surprised Doug didn’t know the names.
“The Board of Directors? Your Commander’s Bosses? They’re the ring leaders…”
“What would the Board want with Genetix?”
“Well, what do you think?” this came from the Chief, “Human soldiers are squishy and die easily. The Board probably want to market a new breed of soldier; ones that heal faster and stay on their feet longer.”
“Ivan never would allow it-”
“You think the Board tell him when they’re thinking about making shady deals like this? They could sneak it in as part of a basic medical check up and you lot would be none the wiser!”
“Fuck off!” Doug was certain he’d never been modified without his knowledge. He still had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach though and he was slowly becoming aware of how much his stab wound wasn’t hurting…
“This is all speculation,” interjected Kate, “We’re after something more concrete. Is Salmanic one of Genetix’s clients?”
“I don’t think so? I’m not privy to the client list but I’ve not seen any of their reps in well over a decade. Not since Old Victor was running the company,” The Chief attempted a shrug but was hampered by his bindings. Kate’s posture became more pensive as she mulled this over, one hand cupping her chin as she tried to align this information with what Gratin had already told them.
“Hmm…what about the building’s layout? It looked like it was split into different sections?”
“Err, yeah,” The Chief seemed to be more relaxed now if only because Doug wasn’t poised over the controls any more. He was absorbed in the conversation.
“There’s Specimen containment which is where all our live test subjects are kept but I only have access to a few floors. Then there’s the lab block where we test and develop all the stuff I mentioned before. Warehouses and the delivery hub is another sector and then there’s the bio-dome where we grow all the GM crops we’re creating. We also have an in-house production centre with a 3D printing suite for the new tech we’re making. Then in the centre is the Central Hub. I think it’s mostly admin but access is majorly restricted…”
“More dodgy experiments?” Doug guessed.
“Or it’s where central processing for all their data is?”posited Kate.
“That last one, yeah. The ground floor has all the staff rooms and facilities but upstairs is where the bosses live. I think all the staff that works up there live in the facility too? I never see anyone leaving except the security personnel for that area. Those guys creep me the fuck out…”
“Bit too into their job?” this came from Doug, the soldier looking bored by the conversation at this point and was absent mindedly scratching at some of the rust on the console.
“I dunno, they just seem like they’re not all there? There’s rumours that the Sisters like to keep some of the more interesting projects for themselves, could be their personal security teams have been modded to the point of not really being human any more?” this didn’t sit well with the mercenaries, Doug pausing mid scratch to exchange a glance with his partner.
“What kind of mods? Ones similar to what you were talking about with the PSF contracts?” Kate asked, tension evident in her voice. The Chief nodded.
“Better healing, reflexes, even their senses. Something’s off about their eyes. The way they look at you, it’s like they see right through you…” it was clear from the way he spoke that he had no evidence for any of this but the prospect was worrying to say the least. Especially as there was little doubt that the information they were seeking was going to be found in the Central Hub.
“And the Sisters you mentioned are the bosses? They own the company?”
“Yes but I’ve never met them. No body has, at least not in my department. They never leave their sanctum in the Central Hub,”
“Hmm. And what exactly do you have access to?”
“Err, the entirety of the Lab block aside from the basement levels and the Central Hub’s atrium?”
“Glad we’ve already pinched your ID then!” this came from Doug, the soldier laughing as he patted a pocket that The Chief could just make out his own wallet sticking out of.
“What? No! You can’t-!” he’d lost a little colour in his cheeks, the implications of them using his ID cards hitting him like a tonne of bricks.
“I think you’d be surprised by how much we actually can do, mate!”
“But they’ll know it’s mine! I could lose my job!”
“Better than what you might lose if you keep pissing us off!” warned Doug jovially, “now, we’re gonna show you a map and you’re gonna tell us which bit is which and give us some directions for when we’re inside. Then, if you play your cards right, we’ll find you somewhere nice and cosy to stick you until all the fun is over, savvy?”
“And if you don’t, well, you’ve seen how eager Doug is to play with those controls over there…” Kate added, the line of which mercenary was supposed to be good cop and which was the bad blurring slightly. The distinction wasn’t helped by the fact that McCracken’s tones had remained jovial throughout where as O’Donnell was the cold and distant one. The Chief couldn’t help but wonder if the roles would have been more clear if GR4-71N hadn’t been suspiciously absent through this entire interview…?
“If it gets me off this damn log then I’ll draw you a damn diagram but if anyone asks, I put up a fight, yeah? Don’t let the higher ups know I caved this easily, please? I gotta rep to think about and I need the money too!” Doug couldn’t help but roll his eyes.
“Sure, pal, if we stop to chit chat with the other security guards, we’ll tell ‘em how you nearly had us on the ropes for a sec there,” he sarcastically reassured the man. The Chief failed to read Doug’s tone.
“Thanks, man, I appreciate it! Let me see that map then…”
Twenty minutes later and the Chief was bound and gagged in the comfort of his own bathtub. It was mostly comfortable as the mercenaries had been considerate enough to give him one of his body pillows to lie on. He couldn’t help but reflect that for wanted terrorists, they hadn’t been all that bad. It could have been a lot worse. Now the question remained: how was he supposed to untie himself or would someone come get him before he found himself in a far more uncomfortable situation?
⁎ ⁎ ⁎
There was bird song coming from outside. A sweet tittering noise that told the world that it was a bright sunny day and people should be going about their business. Silverton was far to preoccupied to appreciate it though.
At some point in the last eleven hours he had shed his jacket and tie, rolled up his sleeves and loosened his collar. The library was dark and stuffy, thick curtains covering the windows. The walls were covered in shelves that were home to more books than an individual could possibly read in their lifetime, the subjects of which ranged from children’s fantasy stories to tomes of engineering and the sciences.
Silverton had spent hours of his youth in here, ignoring tutors whilst imagining what his future would be like when he was head of the family and held the title of most powerful person in the world. Now here he was, bent over the grand table in the centre of the library, sitting in the shadow of the display case that housed the map of his family lineage, surrounded by a multitude of empty coffee cups and piles and piles of his father’s notebooks and mad ramblings.
And they were mad. Victor Salmanic’s mind had been akin to a maze, each thought branching out into strange pathways that could take you further and further away from the point of order until you were utterly lost in ramblings. Filing systems had been for cowards as far as Victor had been concerned, each page a tapestry of random ideas often with no connection to one another besides being featured on the same page. Notes were scrawled in every available place; in the margins, upside down between paragraphs, sideways footnotes crammed between the main text and the bottom of the page. Trying to find a particular detail was maddening and almost impossible, Silverton certain that his father did it on purpose just to make life difficult for anyone that wanted to read his private thoughts.
Then there was the code. Abbreviations for words that didn’t need abbreviating. Little phrases that were shorthand for tasks to be performed or arrangements that needed to be made. In life, Silverton had known Victor’s use of the phrase “to go golfing” could have meant 1) to play golf, 2) to take part in an extra marital affair or 3) to terminate a particularly troublesome obstacle1. Reading his father’s notebooks made it clear that “to go golfing” hadn’t been the only phrase he had bestowed additional meanings to. Silverton had had to arrange for a fresh notebook of his own to be brought to him so that he could attempt to translate his father’s odd turns of phrases. This new book was quickly becoming just as crammed with nonsensical writings as Silverton copied down anything that looked vaguely important, adding a few notes of his own as he processed what he was reading.
There were notes on Twigarnian anatomy. Extensive research on an old Twigarnian opera about star crossed lovers hiding in a tower at the edge of the universe. Clippings and extracts on the nature of aether and it’s effects on the users mind. Lists of symptoms of those suffering from aether poisoning. An entire thesis written by the Twigarnian known as Ve’hem covered in highlighted text and a patchwork of notes. Drawings and blueprints for half-baked aether generators and probes. Hand written accounts of crazed mages that had posited and even attempted rituals of ascension to achieve something akin to godhood.
Silverton was partway through putting a ring around one such passage by the archmage Wilhelm the Oblique when there was a tentative knock at the door.
“What now?!” Silverton bellowed, too deep into this strange new world of aether and Nexuses to give much thought to manners.
Silvia cautiously opened the door, several of the older servants cowering behind her as she peaked into the room.
“Sorry for the intrusion, Father, but Lulu has been trying to ring you. You haven’t been answering her calls so she’s rung the house directly…” she stepped into the room, the phone clasped in her hands, and took in the scene. Silverton looked dishevelled, his usually slicked back hair ruffled and his eye bloodshot. She attempted to peer at what he had been reading but he snapped the books shut, standing up to block the view of the table.
“Give it here,” he snatched the phone away, turning from his heir to block her out entirely, the young woman glaring at the back of his head. He could hear the help muttering in the corridor, clearly concerned by their master’s behaviour. All of this was highly irregular. None of them had even laid eyes on him in years…
“Ms Valerina, this better be important. I told you I was not to be disturbed!” Silverton snapped, foot tapping impatiently.
“I apologise sir but there has been a number of developments that I thought you would like to be kept in the loop of,” Lucretia’s calm voice answered, the secretary taking her employer’s irritable mood in stride. Silverton huffed like a teenager being asked to do their chores, the CEO beginning to pace around the table, slowly becoming aware that his daughter was still in the room, listening in. He violently waved her off, thrusting a hand towards the door and glaring daggers at her. Silvia reluctantly retreated, closing the doors behind her. Outside, she pressed an ear to the door in an attempt to continue eavesdropping, the servants backing off to give her space.
“Make this quick, I’m extremely busy…” Silverton was saying.
“Of course sir. The first point of order, a task force have managed to identify where the mercenaries went after they fled the power plant. There is a small airfield on the eastern edge of the Galmanee desert. It appears they travelled there. We have several witnesses stating that they charted a plane called The Flying Hound. Documented flight plans made by the pilot suggests they were headed to Polaris,”
“That…may simplify things…” Silverton was beginning to calm down now, “has the raid team I requested been assembled?”
“That was the second reason for my call. They should arrive in Polaris tonight and will be in contact once they have retrieved any and all files relating to the Spire and Salmanic Inc.”
“If they should sight the clone in their investigations-”
“They have been ordered to apprehend him sir, which brings us onto the third and final point of this call,”
“Yes? What else is there?”
“Our technicians have finished studying the device known as the AMD, sir. From what they have been able to determine, it is an anti-magic deterrent designed to over stimulate the minds of anyone in the vicinity via sound-waves in order to disrupt concentration and prevent the manipulation of aether. In other words, it turns off a mage’s ability to cast spells,” this stopped Silverton in his tracks, the CEO clasping the phone in both hands in order to hold it steady as he thought through the implications.
“That could be a game changer…” he muttered, intrigued.
“Yes sir, it appears Genetix took the break-in by the Tsuerlian monastery twelve years ago very seriously, according to the surviving raiders we had questioned. Our own technicians believe it to be easy enough to reverse engineer the device. The confiscated AMD has been given to our own raiding party in case they should run into the clone and our technicians are working to replicate the signal based on the notes they amassed whilst studying the device.”
“Excellent. This is Excellent. I still have a little more reading to do and I will return to the office as soon as I finish. I will need some of my Father’s things delivered to my penthouse, I will send you a list shortly. Thank you, Ms Valerina, you have done an exemplary job as per usual…” he hung up the call feeling giddy with anticipation. So giddy that he began to chuckle as he picked up the notebook he had been pouring through and flicked back to the page he had been reading. There were diagrams and musings about what could happen if someone were to absorb a magic source potent enough. A mad glint twinkled in Silverton’s eye as he absorbed the information.
A new destiny was blooming in front of him; a divine right he alone could be allowed to claim…
1At least once it had meant all three at the same time.
Post by Sam | December 17, 2022 at 12:01 am | The Mercenaries' Tale | No comment
Tags: AMD, Anti-Magic, Blaise, Doug McCracken, Forest Canyon, Genetix, Kate O'Donnell, Lucretia Velarina, Polaris, Salmanic Manor, Silverton Salmanic, Silvia Salmanic, The Chief, the Galactic Finders of the Tserulian Monastery, Ve'hem, Victor Salmanic