Malik

  The all hands meeting came three hours before shift change. The Shadow was still three days out from their latest paymail, and from the rumors that had been flying through the crew this one was going to be very juicy. Malik didn't usually put much stock in rumors, especially rumors that circulated in an idle warship, but this latest batch had the subtle ring of truth to them.

  He arrived at the ops room early and found it already packed full, trumping last week's assembly by a few curious heads. Malik took his place near the back of the crowd beside the only crew member taller than him.

  "You missed another fight, Runt." Jhordan said, tossing her golden curls by way of greeting.

  "Havoc again?" He asked the resident giantess. She was only two inches taller than he was but she never tired of reminding him that second place overall meant he was a first place loser.

  "Pauz and Knight."

  Malik had to suck his teeth at that. Both men were among the meaner killers among the crew; Knight taking his pseudonym after his lofty idealism and his penchant for swords; Pauz on the other hand was a gene-tweaked peasant farmer who'd made a name for himself in bar fights and livestock wrestling before he'd signed on with the Shadow. If those two had thrown hands, there weren't very many people who would get in the middle of that. Malik scanned the crowd to look for the victor, though he failed to find either man.

  "Who won?" He asked.

  "I did." Jhordan beamed, holding out her bloodied knuckles as proof. Malik had to roll his eyes at that.

  At that moment, Bim and her hulking escort walked in. Heads turned and the room fell virtually silent. A hand rose from the gathered crowd, beckoning the devil woman to the front and the crowd shimmied to make a path for her. Her bodyguard, the absolutely titanic man named Treu, made his way to stand beside Malik and Jhordan at the back of the room.

  "He's fucking huge!" Malik whispered under his breath.

  "Shut up!" Jhordan hissed. "He's coming this way."

  "Feeling emasculated, Amazon?" Malik teased.

  "Shut. Up." She hissed.

  Treu easily stood twenty centimeters taller than [Jhordan], and he had the mass to back that height up. He could have been the unlikely child of a arctic bear and an equatorial ape, all sculpted muscle and burly arms nearly as thick as his legs were— which were still thicker around than most people's waist was. A sinister smile crept onto Malik's lips as Jhordan's normally indomitable, bubbly disposition darkened in the giant's shadow. Jhordan wasn't the only one cowed by the titanic man, the idle chatter and whispered conversations near their portion of the octagonal room all withered in Treu's presence. Leeroy banged on the ceiling to call the room to order and all eyes tuned on him at the center of the room.

  "Negotiations are still fluid so expect some of the contract details to change later on." Leeroy began. "We've got enough sorted out that we can finally give a halfway reliable briefing. Chances are any rumors you've all heard are outdated, so forget them and focus on this."

  A rudimentary map of the solar system appeared on the central table. The mercs leaned in for a closer look and Leeroy continued.

  "This is the Trastorno system, and this, is the Shadow's current position about seventy hours away from our next client on Nexo Isla. We've got a lot of orbital and deep space traffic all around us, and I've been able to confirm that the Heart of Darkness and Blissful Shade both passed through the system twenty-one months ago and are expected back with one of the next inbound ships from the galactic northeast."

  The news of the outfit's sister ships from the good old bad times was warmly welcomed. Long before Malik's time, the Stalking Shadow had been just one of many ships flying under the outfit's banner but the Bot Wars and the lean years that followed had changed things. Armies and fleets were been broken into smaller units, and the attached mercs were left chasing down smaller jobs just to keep the outfit alive. They'd slowly rebuilt themselves, like a blighted fungus you could never truly get rid of, but now the scattered remains of the Blackheart Auxilia were few and far between. The chance to have three ships and their crews all in the same place more than made up for the past four years trawling around the fringes, hunting pirates, escorting merchants and training local militias. The only thing that spoiled the announcement, was the fact that there were three outsiders in their midst, each no doubt wondering at the significance of the moment.

  "There's four orbital stations for dedicated trade, two more for leisure, and twelve spin-barrels growing all the usual chow and medicinals. No space elevator, so everything still goes planetside through the spaceports or drop pods. Terraforming is confirmed to be mid-stage two-"

  A chorus of groans left the assembly. Leeroy waved them off.

  "I was hoping for local grass-fed beef too. So what if this planet is still in the half-tamed? That just means Rock can go on safari while the rest of us actually earn our paymails. They've got most things available on import, so quit your bitching and let me get through this."

  The terran sniper playfully flipped Leeroy off.

  "Alright, where was I? The job. That's basically the only thing that hasn't changed from the rumors. We've got a bid in for long term close protection and site security planetside. Client is an ultra-high networth Mister Johnson with his fingers in so many pies even he doesn't know how diverse his investments are, but the main one is 'import export,' or for anyone who can't read between the lines, black marketeering. This system moves everything— and I do mean everything. Guns, drugs, plants, metal, people… Everything, and our Johnson controls at least one percent of that everything coming through this gravity well."

  An appreciative whistle came from the crowd. Another merc raised a question. "So who we killing for this prick?"

  "Rival underworld elements and hired guns from the info we have so far." Leeroy answered. "Our client needs a covert protection detail that has the capacity to escalate into a fully-equipped mechanized fighting force with experience in a densely built-up urban center. We'll be augmenting his own staff, who will be handling the day to day while we train their capabilities and act as on site experts unless our hand is forced. Additionally we've planned on a round of site security consultations before we agree to discreetly fortify and guard any locations of importance. The Johnson isn't military but he's beyond rich, so we should be able to get away with a good degree of upselling on our initial payment and follow-up salary. Pay rate is still being hammered out, but I can say it's very generous so far; plus we're getting paid weekly by head instead of monthly as a unit."

  Affirmative grumbling burbled from the crowd. The job sounded simple enough, more often than not the mere presence of armed security details was enough of a deterrent to send any would-be robbers packing. Babysitting a worried wallet and guarding a few secured sites was easy money in Malik's eyes. But there was always the chance this wouldn't be a cake walk, that the Johnson had a reason to be concerned for his safety, so Malik didn't plan his pension before he lived to see it— unlike some of the overeager mercs around him.

  "Now that you've all got a good idea of what we're getting into," Leeroy tapped at the table's terminal and the display's focus narrowed from the solar system to the planet and its orbiting satellites.

  "Nexo Isla, population eight-hundred million planetside, another twelve million permanently in orbit. FTL traffic and transfers are estimated to be anywhere from four to nineteen million, apparently the locals have a hard time with people slipping through the cracks. Frontier towns are less than five-hundred years old, some sites as new as yesterday. Terraforming effort is mid-stage two, urban centers are semi-industrialized with spotty coverage in the immediate surroundings. Four primary landmasses, three in proximity of the nominal western hemisphere running longitudinally, the other is in the southeastern sea. We have two terraforming archologies up and running in the southwest hemisphere, primary habitable ecosystems are in this area. Our client, is not.

  "This continent is named Bolintiam, after its first settlers who also named the region's five founding colonies, three local oceans, eighty-nine mountains and twelve rivers some derivative thereof. Our client is here. Specifically in the east by northeastern-most city, El Cruce Babro, or just Crucibab as the locals know it. Port city, space and deep water, in a sheltered cove surrounded by coastal desert, semi-arid planes, deep-water exploration rigs, and mountains that used to have temperate rain forests. There's also an archipelago nearby, close to three hundred islands that are actually worth a damn. Most are sustenance farming or growing cash crops for refinement or offworld export. The climate is fairly hot and wet-"

  "How hot?" Ruby asked, voice filled with dread, from her place near the front.

  Leeroy chuckled masochistically before pulling his attention from the briefing to the diminutive scout.

  "The planetary average is thirty-five standard, peaking for seven hours a day at around forty-two degrees. The day cycle is slightly over forty-one hours long, twenty-nine sunny, twelve dark. Humidity averaging above seventy-percent most days."

  If anyone wanted to drop a pin, the whole room would have heard it land.

  The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "These people are insane." Ruby said, a morbid half-smile on her lips.

  "Those are averages," Clancy said as he adjusted his spectacles. "The bulk of the planet is covered in water and we can see that the landlocked mountains are mostly snowcapped with massive shadow profiles. Its childish to assume the entire planet is always only one climate. Some areas will be less intolerable than others."

  "And our client happens to be based far from planetary government oversight, which is coincidentally collocated with the very tolerable archologies on the other side of the planet." Leeroy added. "For any of you spacers who don't already know this, most planets worth a damn are more than just a single ecosystem. They vary from region to region, sometimes extremely. Point in case, these… Bolindas mountains, right here. Arid dessert to the southwest, glacial forests in the bowl, the mountains themselves, and then hilly shrub-land to the east. All within less than a thousand kilometers of each other."

  "Planets are weird." Chad grumbled under his breath.

  "Don't I know it." Jhordan agreed, similarly under her breath.

  "This one also has a very, very wealthy merchant class, which is why we're here." Leeroy said, carrying on. "Aside from the invasive humans and introduced species, most of the planet's native wildlife are cold-blooded reptiles of all sizes or deep sea life. The equatorial land regions have some spotty mega-flora and mega-fauna, giant trees and dinosaurs respectively, neither of which have taken kindly to humanity and both are now endangered as a result. Introduced species include the usual vermin: Crows, rats, trash pandas, cats, various insects and fish— salmon mostly but there are also mollusks, clams, crustaceans and shellfish that all took well to their new home.

  "Aside from some traveling or remote site work, we'll be based in Crucibab at the Johnson's primary residence and working in the city on an as needed basis. The main mode of transit for the locals is rail or foot; there are a few motorways but within the city proper, access is restricted to commercial and political vehicles. Our Johnson's main business efforts focus on orbital and waterway transit for cargo and personnel, though he did express interest in establishing some motorcades at a later date. Once we're established on site, I want to see about getting a local flyer for us but until then I want one of our shuttles on station for general duties. Shores, Aivery, Clancy, you're our pilots so figure out how you want to handle that, whether you want to use the Cat or the Hound, and have an answer for me before we make planetfall.

  "Crucibab is a port city built like a hive. Census data suggests just shy of twelve million people living in a twenty-kilometer radius from the city center. Industrial sectors focus mainly on refinement of natural or imported materials, with a heavy export focus on organics like food, timber or textiles. Most sophisticated goods or electronics are manufactured in the more developed archologies or the orbiting colony ships and then sent to their less developed planetside counterparts, same as most terraforming operations.

  "The geographic data is still being fetched, but we know that it's a coastal cliffside metropolis in a tectonically active region. Construction is primarily stone, steel and brick, better off areas might have ceramics or wood. The buildings will generally be low to the ground or partially buried in the cliffside. Our Johnson has assured me that we will have access to the comforts of 'civilized society,' like electricity, plumbing and some basic air conditioning, though many people in our area of operation might be lucky enough to have one of three. Again, same as most terraforming planets.

  "What differs from the usual is the fact that Trastorno is sat square in the intersection of four stable FTL lanes. Two run the colonies on the fringes so they haul meat and not much else. The other two both come from the core (Empire and Technocracy respectively) running back and forth from the Eldritch DMZ and its buffer worlds."

  Leeroy didn't feel the need to elaborate for the outsiders in the room. Every red-blooded merc knew what happened when battle-groups passed through civilian markets on their way to 'inactive' combat zones and returned home afterwards. Military hardware went missing, manifests were doctored, battlefield souvenirs got pawned, unwanted children got abandoned, and in some rare cases entire units of soldiers vanished from their shipboard billets just days before they were supposed to ship out.

  Empire troop movements meant guns, armor, vehicles and the bodies to use it. Hundreds of colonies and old-growth worlds contributing odds and ends to any given fleet, meaning there was never a guarantee on the quality, only the quantity— which had a certain quality all its own in Malik's eyes. Technocracy battle groups were good but their supply fleets were better than gold, most could still make miracle gear from before the Synthetic Revolution. Tech like that was always worth the years of combat pay even a single scrap of it cost and more often than not, having it was the difference between life and death for an otherwise outgunned merc. And that was to say nothing about whatever alien trinkets and toys that found their way into the pockets of the soldiers while they were deployed, or the legitimate trade between species that yielded all sorts of exotic goodies which inevitably found their way to unscrupulous markets just like Nexo Isla.

  In short, after years of collecting their pay with nothing worth spending it on, they'd finally returned to all the vainglory of capitalism; corrupt open markets where anything and everything could be found if you knew the right person and had enough cash.

  "Now that everyone is sufficiently motivated," Leeroy continued, "we need to discuss the division of labor. Long days mean long hours, at least three shifts a day, fourteen hours a shift. Moving forward we'll need to address schedule rotation so the day teams can catch a break. The locals take lots of naps, we'll need to do likewise. Between the heat and the long days, acclimatization is going to be harsh. If you have hot-weather gear, this is the time to break it out of storage. As stated early, shifts are fourteen hours, two day, one night. I'll get a headcount and fireteam composition and draw up a sentry rotation. Any volunteers for the day shift?"

  Leeroy faced a sullenly silent room. Some persuasive measures might have summoned a lone volunteer, but this time teams and trios were kept mute as much by their peers as their own reluctance to bite the bullet. Malik spotted Idris and Evander carrying a conversation with nothing but their eyes, evidently debating how their third—the Shadow's leading markswoman, Lacy—would react. The dessert world siblings reached a non-verbal agreement and kept their peace.

  "I thought not, dice it is then." Leeroy said. "Ordinance orders and rules of engagement are as follows until I say otherwise or situation FUBAR. No first shot unless threatened, with weapons. Fists count as weapons, harsh words don't… Havoc. If the tactical situation devolves to the point where any you need to question the legality of an action that will save your lives, do it. We'll decide if you were right or wrong after the fact instead of mourning your honorable corpse. That being said, we're deploying to a densely-populated megacity. If the population turns on us, the Johnson will hang us out to dry and die. Keep collateral damage to a minimum, prioritize hollow-point ammunition and shoot to kill if engaged. We shouldn't be squaring off against rival paramilitary forces, but there are multiple local mercenary outfits operating in and through this system, so prepare to fight off a force comparable to ourselves in a pinch. I'll talk to the Johnson about how he wants us to field our warsuits, ideally he'll agree to keep a team tooled up for quick response but we'll have to play that by ear."

  "As if there's another outfit that could take us on this rock." Bull sneered from her clump of fellow psychopaths, Xadria and Eric.

  "Probably not in an un-fair fight." Leeroy admitted. "But we'll be spread thin, our heaviest weapons peace-bound, no appreciable support from our gunships or the Shadow, Ghost won't be providing a tac-net for long, AND until we're suited up and boots down in our walking coffins we're just mortal men." Leeroy shifted his tirade to address the room. "We won't be gunning down uppity peasants or half-starved pirates this time people! Our area of operations is a hot spot for the biggest black market arms dealing we've seen in the past seven years. I know some of you were blinded by your future purchases and forgot that our enemies can buy that same fancy hardware, but they can. We may be up against the usual slum rats and outlaws, but these ones could have fangs. Remember that."

  Leeroy allowed the scolding to adequately set in before continuing.

  "Once we're established planetside, the Shadow will be picking up some escort work in system for fuel and munitions. So anyone staying behind will be kept busy but don't expect much else besides. Sadly, that means Ghost won't be able to get it stuck in with the rest of us at the sharp end and we'll have to make do well enough without— not that he'd be all that useful ground side anyway given the developing nature of our AoO. There's a lot of work to do an not very much time to get it done. Team leads and command staff, stick around for my next call with the Johnson and the follow up round table talks. Everyone else, get to work."