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Proditio; IN ORDER! YAY!
Topic Started: May 19 2007, 05:49 PM (218 Views)
Bob 121
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Librarium Adept
Prologue

Incoming Transmission, Validating Authenticity...
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...
Securing Data Transfer Bypass... Complete.
Opening Data File J538.23: Alpha


From: Lord Marshal Jacob Mannus
To: Honorable Councilors Belthzen, Whier, Arden, Toren, Aiten, and Steele
Decryption Key: Altus
Subject: Progress Report/Request for Additional Support
Date: 254.3745

Honorable High Council,

As you already know, our recently renewed offensive against the Aprion Republic has resulted in a significant victory. Our soldiers are marching across soil that no Erebian has tread on since the Great Conflict.

However, I regret to inform you that the current situation will not continue with the present numbers enlisted in the Erebian Armed Forces. While our forces did manage to break through the Aprion lines in several areas their response was far more rapid than originally anticipated. Several of my fellow Lord Marshals across the front concur with my estimation that, unless we receive additional soldiers, our forces will be stalled once again in as little as four weeks. I formally request an additional 50,000 soldiers to be added to the Clarion front.

However, I would like to discuss with you, in detail, about the site the 6th Taskforce encountered two weeks ago in the far eastern Clarion region. I do not believe that the leadership of the taskforce was knowledgeable as to the significance of the site in question, nor aware of its possible purpose. I feel I must voice my stern opposition with the Council’s decision to ‘retire’ all those involved in the incident simply because of circumstantial proof and fearful suspicion. The military can only carry out its duty if the leadership is left to do its task unhindered. I sincerely hope you and your fellow council members take my concerns into consideration.


Eternally vigilant,
Lord Marshall Jacob Mannus


...End Message...


Chapter 1

‘The cost of the Aprion-Erebian War so far is immense;
second only in damage and loss of life to the Great Conflict,
it has raged for centuries, claiming an untold number of lives
and shows no sign of stopping.
-Excerpt from Erebian historical text


196.3745 P.C. (4 months prior)

Klaxons blared and warning strobes flashed, filling the entire command deck of the Mobile Command Crawler Ducis with an ear-shattering noise and bathing it in a blanket of crimson. Adjutants ran from station to station, comm. chatter filled the air, mingling with the klaxons’ noise in a cacophony of confusion and through it all one man stood silently observing. He was General Nicholas Etton: Commander of Task Force C-23.4, an expeditionary force in the Erebian Confederate Military. His force had fallen into a trap, his men were dying and there was little he could do.

Etton turned as Warrant Officer Granek, approached at a jog and produced a datapad. He handed the device to Etton and wiped his brow with his sleeve, breathing heavily. “Sir. Report from the remote sensor station; a second force is approaching from the south.”

Etton stared at the text, temporarily at a loss for words.

Granek studied Etton with a mixture of uncertainty and apprehension. “Sir?”

Etton turning back to Granek and handed him the datapad. “Are you sure this information is accurate? You’re sure the sensors aren’t picking up any ghosts in the storm?”

Granek shook his head. “No sir. They ran the sweep multiple times. The sensors picked them up five minutes ago but it seems that the second force is being masked by the storm, we’re lucky we got this much of an early warning.”

Etton nodded, contemplating his suddenly limited options. “Circulate this throughout the task force. Tell them to keep up their scans and to notify me if they pick up anything else.”
“Yes sir.” Granek saluted and left the command deck running.

Etton felt an uneasy chill run up his spine as he watched the Warrant Officer leave. Although he felt inclined to a moment’s indecision he knew that to hesitate would bring doom to the entire task force. There was no other choice: act or be destroyed. He stepped down to the main control console floor to one of the P.A. consoles and spoke as loud and as calmly as possible over the screeching of the klaxons. “Attention to all hands, this is General Etton. I have just received word that an enemy force has flanked us. Be advised that due to our current situation it may be necessary to evacuate the Ducis should the fighting reach us. At this time all non-essential personnel acquire the proper weather gear and weapons in the event of an evacuation.” Etton put down the comm. and looked about the room at the numerous shocked faces of the officers he’d come to know in the past months.

It was then that Etton heard the familiar voice of Lieutenant Brize from somewhere behind him. “You heard the general. He said all non-essential personnel. What are you waiting for? There’s a war on; get back to work!”

Etton turned and saw Brize walking towards him, her face set in a grim smile. “Sir, It’s really bad out there, isn’t it?” Brize’s tone told the general that she already knew the answer.

“Most of our forces are deployed along the ridge and they’re just barely holding off the enemy. The force that the scanners picked up is larger and headed right towards us through the south end of the valley. We have almost no presence to our rear and if the Aprion force breaks through what forces we do have deployed to our flank then the entire task force will break. It’ll be a rout.”

Brize nodded and looked downwards. “What should we do, sir?”

Etton stared out the viewport at the flashes of the distant fighting between the main elements of Task Force C-23.4. “We need to attempt a full withdrawal.”

Brize’s face screwed up in a mixture of confusion and disbelief. “Disengage? But we don’t have anywhere to disengage to. And in this storm…”

“I realize that our chances out in this storm are bad but the if we stay here we will all die. Hopefully we’ll be able to lose the enemy forces in the blizzard and find a temporary haven.”

Brize looked unconvinced but said nothing. Etton moved towards a long-range comm. console and leaned over the officer manning it. “Open a wide-band transmission to all units, Priority Alpha.”
The man tapped a few keys and turned to Etton. “You’re broadcasting, sir.”

“To all units, this is General Etton. I am ordering a full withdrawal from this area immediately to the following coordinates: 034-87-12. It is recommended that all units utilize staggered retreat formations. It is likely that the Ducis may be out of action; if the senior officers do not make it to the rendezvous your orders are to return to confederate territory and report Aprion activity in this area. That is all.” Etton nodded at the comm. officer. “Repeat that message once more in case anyone missed it, and what’s the status on the-”

A distressed voice came over the comm. amid a wash of static, cutting off the general before he could finish. “This is Colonel Venseri, 3rd Tresid Infantry Battalion. We are taking heavy fire. I doubt the flank will hold much longer unless the gods send us a miracle. Be advised Ducis, you’re gonna have company very soon unless we get some relief.”

Etton turned to Brize, his jaw set in a grimace. “What was the 3rd Tresid’s last position?”

“They’re serving as the far southwest portion of our rearguard, sir.”

“That’s where the enemy force was headed.” Etton leaned back over to the comm. officer. “Open a channel. I want to speak directly to Colonel Venseri.”

The comm. officer keyed in another command and nodded at the general.

“Colonel, this is General Etton. Do you read me?”

Several seconds of static followed before the man’s voice. “Yes, general, I read you. Are you sending-” Whatever the Colonel said after that was lost as the sound of a nearby explosion blasted over his voice.

Etton’s face betrayed a hint of concern. “Colonel? Colonel Venseri, are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m here general. Tank got hit.”

“What were you saying before?”

“Can you send us reinforcement, sir?”

Etton could barely hear the Colonel over the sounds of battle combined with the static, and he had to mentally keep himself from shouting through the comm. “Negative, Colonel. The entire force is engaged; you’re on your own for now. Recommended that you disengage and fall back to the rendezvous point.”

There was a large detonation over the comm. that actually shook the speakers on the computer console and for a moment Etton thought that colonel Venseri had been killed in the explosion. He stood there for a minute, and closed his eyes when the colonel’s voice returned, although slightly distorted. “Negative on that, sir. We cannot disengage. We’d do more good holding our ground than we would by retreating.”

Etton let out an audible sigh. “Are you sure, Colonel?”

A sound like a distant explosion came over the speaker and Vanseri’s voice became more distorted. “Yessir. There’s no way we’re getting out of here alive. Might as well take as many of em’ out as we can before we go. Slow em’ down long enough for the Ducis to escape.”

“You and your men have our thanks. May the gods watch over you.”

The sounds of battle were now pouring through the comm. speakers and the Colonel’s voice had become almost completely unrecognizable. “Thank you sir. We’re-”

A hiss of static burst through the speakers followed by an electronic shriek before suddenly going quiet.

Both Etton and Brize looked at the comm. officer who shook his head sullenly. “We’ve lost the transmission.”

“Do we still have a reading on the 3rd Tresid’s I.D.?”

“Negative, but that could be because of the storm.”

“Very well. Open a channel to all decks on the Ducis.” The man scrambled to fulfill Etton’s task as the general watched him work feverishly until the man gave him the signal that it was done. Etton nodded his thanks to the man. “All hands aboard the Ducis, this is General Etton. Our flank has been overrun and we have very little time before the enemy is upon us. When that time comes there will be very little the Ducis will offer us in protection. I am hereby ordering the evacuation of the Ducis immediately. All hands are to report the H-Deck garage to board the small transports that will be waiting.
He moved over to the center command console and typed in his service number, placed his finger on the scanner, and swiped his ID card. Brize looked at him with some hesitation but followed suite.

Instantly an artificial female voice issued over the P.A. System, temporarily drowning out the warning klaxons. “SELF-DESTRUCT ENABLED. FIFTEEN MINUTES UNTIL SELF-DESTRUCT. PLEASE BE ADVISED, BLAST RADIUS WILL BE APPROXIMATELY SIX-HUNDRED YARDS.”

Etton seemed to deflate and hung his head. Turning to Brize, he said. “Get your HE-suit lieutenant. It’s going to be cold out there.”


There was a high-pitched whistling noise followed by a loud detonation and colonel Karos realized that his feet were no longer touching the ground. He landed roughly five feet away in a snowdrift, dazed and confused, his vision blurry and his ears ringing. It took Karos several moments to realize that he was, in fact, still alive as someone helped him up from the snow. Although his vision was coming back he still couldn’t tell who had helped him up but from the muffled noise the colonel could tell that the man was saying something to him. “What?!” He pointed to his ears to emphasize.

The man who had helped him up nodded and put his hand on his shoulder, guiding him somewhere. He was saying something that Karos still couldn’t discern but he didn’t resist the man.

Karos ran for about five minutes, each step sending a jolt of pain through his body until he thought he’d keel over before the man finally stopped. It was then that Karos realized that he’d reached the forest as the stranger set him down against an enormous Thornwood’s craggy trunk. His vision had cleared up for the most part and Karos realized that his hearing had also returned, although a slight ringing noise was still audible over the sound of the man’s inquiries.
The man came over to Karos and bent down next to him. “You all right, sir? You took a pretty nasty tumble back there.”

Karos looked the man over; he couldn’t recognize him and from the unit patch he wore on his left breast pocket he could see that the man didn’t belong in his command. He glanced at the tag above the patch for the man’s name and saw the black-grey lettering that read: Pvt. Symes. Symes noticed what Karos was doing and immediately bolted upright, saluting smartly. “Sir! Private first class Elron Symes, 1st Tresdeon Infantry, 2nd battalion, 3rd division!”

Karos began to chuckle but in the end it turned into a cough as he rose to his feet. “Good to know, private. Thanks for the save back there; I owe you one.”

Symes, who had still been holding his salute stiffened visibly. “There’s no need to thank me, sir. I saw a superior officer go down and did what I could.”

Karos nodded at the private, a smile creeping it’s way across his face at the young man’s intensity. “Well, thanks anyway son. I appreciate it. I’ll be sure to send in a commendation when we get back. Now where in the hell are we? From the change in scenery I assume we’re somewhere behind the lines.”

Private Symes reluctantly dropped his salute and rubbed his shoulder absentmindedly. “I heard my C.O. order us to fall back and I left my position. I guess a mortar round or incendiary must’ve hit nearby because I wound up on the ground and when managed to get back up I was in a crowd of guys from the Cardon 4th and that’s when I saw you go down, picked you up, and dragged you here.”

Karos nodded, realizing that there were others nearby, some resting against tree trunks, others watching the exchange. “How many are there?”

“There’s about thirteen of us that made it to the tree line sir: seven Cardon, four Tresdeon and two Ilirin.”

Karos stepped forward and nearly toppled over as his foot gave way but Pvt. Symes caught him, putting the colonel’s arm over his shoulder. The colonel grunted a curse and took a few seconds before speaking again. “Doesn’t matter who’s with us now. As of this moment you are all under my command and we will proceed to the rendezvous coordinates ASAP. Forget your old units, forget your previous orders, all you need to know is that I’m in command and our only objective as of now is to meet up with the rest of our forces. Understood?”

A chorus of affirmations sounded from the troopers as they got to their feet, grabbed their packs, and started to move out. Karos began after them with a slight limp and although Symes offered to help the colonel multiple times the man flatly refused until the private cautiously suggested that Karos’s injury was slowing them down and that it would be better for everyone if the colonel allow someone to help him. On the surface Karos grudgingly accepted but Symes could’ve sworn that he caught a look of relief on the man’s face as the rest of the men voiced their support of the idea.

When the ragtag squad had moved through the forest for what seemed like an eternity Karos realized that he hadn’t heard the slightest noise, a fact that unsettled him greatly. As he felt the man who had been supporting him, a captain by the name of Edvern, began to slow Karos realized that his men were beginning to tire. In fact, his own exhaustion suddenly revealed itself to him and the striking pain in his leg had grown so intense during the time they’d walked that his senses had almost completely been numbed to it. Karos grunted, tapping captain Edvern on the shoulder and motioned for him to stop before addressing the men. “All right, we’ll rest here for now. Take five men.”

Most of the troopers immediately dropped to the ground and began opening ration packs or draining their canteens, all except for private Symes who was staring back through the trees nervously. Karos struggled over to the private, coming to a stop beside him, producing two ration bars, eating one and offering the other to Symes. Symes took the bar, thanking the colonel before tearing into it with the frenzied zeal. Karos watched the man eat with some small amount of amusement but said nothing.

They stood there for a minute, the few snowflakes that had penetrated the forest’s canopy falling around them in an almost surreal fashion before Symes finally spoke; his voice hushed slightly. “I think we’re being followed but I don’t know why. I just feel like-”

“Like someone’s watching us.” The Karos cut in, nodding, he had no proof that they were being followed but there was no need for any; he had long ago learned to trust his instincts above all other things and he had felt someone’s eyes on him since they had started walking. It was simultaneously comforting and distressing that someone else had felt the same. “Someone’s been tracking us from the beginning.”

Private Symes looked at Karos, surprise evident on his features. “You saw who was following us?”

“No,” Karos admitted, “but I’ve had a feeling someone’s been following us since the clearing.”

“What’ll we do, sir? Post sentries?”

“No, we’re too low on manpower for sentries and I doubt even sentries would do much good in this forest. We’ve got to keep moving.”
Symes said nothing, although Karos knew what he was thinking; none of them could keep going much longer at this rate. Sensing their conversation was over, Karos turned back to the eleven other men who had all been getting what rest they could and moved over to the nearest trooper; who had evidently fallen asleep against a snow bank and kicked him awake. “Get up men, you can sleep when you’re dead.”

When everyone was fully awake and ready to leave Karos pulled the troopers closer, speaking very softly. “Alright, I have some bad news. We’re being followed, possibly by an enemy force.” There were a few groans and several curses at this but they quickly quieted when Karos glared at the men responsible. “Now, as I was saying. Due to the fact that we’re being followed we will be unable to regroup with the rest of the force in case the enemy may give away its location.” There were even more groans and Karos heard several men muttering things that would entail disciplinary action under normal conditions. Briefly, Karos began to fear that their current circumstances might be enough to embolden some of his men to get ideas in their heads. “Now, we will move through the forest to the northeast and try to reach an area the task force will probably-”

Karos was interrupted when a pale man named Renner spoke up. “How do you know someone’s following us?”

Karos curled his fingers slightly at this, a habit that he’d had for quite some time when he felt unsure of what to do in stressful situations. Renner didn’t know Karos enough to be able to interpret this as a sign of weakness but Karos cursed himself inwardly nonetheless. “That isn’t important now. I’m your commanding officer!”

Another man, perhaps encouraged by private Renner’s stand verbally pounced on the colonel and threw the man completely off guard. “You aren’t our C.O. I’m with the 3rd Tresdeon and I don’t need to listen to you or follow you on your insane suicide march! Why the hell would we march north through this weather when we could head towards the rendezvous? That’s gekkin’ crazy!”

At this point, Karos’s fists were balled up, white knuckled and he could feel his face begin to flush with heat. “Out here, I’m tantamount to the gods while you’re an insect. You will follow my orders or I’ll have you charged with dereliction of duty.”

Renner spoke up, his tone challenging. “Well, you won’t be able to do that if you’re dead, now will you?”

Karos stared at the men, his calm rapidly eroding as his anger grew. “I would pick my words very carefully private. Threatening a superior officer carries a very severe punishment. Now I would suggest that you start walking and keep your mouths shut and I may let you off with a week’s penal sentence.”

Several of the men laughed at this while others, including private Symes, anxiously watched the exchange from the edge of the argument. A huge Tresdeon trooper whose tag read Ferdlan took a menacing step towards the colonel and held his rifle in a way that told everyone involved what was going to happen next. “You seem to forget that out here accidents happen. Who would file a report against us if, say, you somehow didn’t make it back with us?”

The strike came quicker than anyone had expected, catching Karos on the right cheek just below the eye with the butt of Ferdlan’s rifle. The entire squad was thrown into chaos as each person was suddenly forced to choose as side in the conflict. Most of the Tresdeon troopers, with the exception of private Symes, moved in on the staggering colonel while both Ilirin men and most of the Cardon troopers, being of the same unit as Karos, struck out at Karos’s attackers.

As Karos struggled to his feet, private Ferdlan kicked him in the side and reached down to his belt, presumably to unholster his sidearm. As the colonel looked up at Renner he saw with alarm that the private’s eyes seemed to be lost in a bestial fury, his senses clouded by bloodlust. The entire ordeal seemed to occur in slow motion as he watched the private’s hand reach for the gun and then suddenly jerk back at an odd angle as though Renner had been a mere puppet to some unseen master. Karos watched as Ferdlan’s lifeless body slumped over in the snow, revealing private Symes holding a pistol at the man’s corpse, a shocked, sad expression on his face.

Before the colonel could begin to thank Symes he heard a shout and saw private Renner slam one of the Cardon men, trooper Khern, a man he had known most of his time in the service, into the thick trunk of a Thornwood tree. Khern’s hand searched for his holster but Renner had beaten him to it; bringing Khern’s weapon to the private’s chest; pulling the trigger twice.

In a moment Karos was onto his feet and bounding towards Renner, not even aware that he was screaming until he himself wondered where the frightful bellowing was coming from. By the time Renner managed to face this new threat colonel Karos was upon him, slamming hard against him into the trunk of the Thornwood tree. The impact knocked the wind out of Renner, opening a window that Karos used very effectively; Renner lost his pistol to a sideswipe of the man’s hand and then received a punch to the gut, prompting him to keel over right into the colonel’s knee. To his credit, Renner was back to the fight in an instant, landing a hard blow in the colonel’s side, although Karos quickly subdued him with a following punch to the jaw, bringing his pistol to bear on the treasonous private as he curled into a fetal ball in the snow, blood leaking from his shattered nose.

Karos looked down at the battered Tresdeon trooper with revulsion, breathing heavily, finally realizing the toll the fight had taken on him. His leg was throbbing with a searing hot pain and if it hadn’t been before it was now certainly broken, his wrist hurt and judging from how much it hurt to breathe, he had possibly broken a rib or two.

His men hadn’t fared much better. Of the original squad seven were dead and two were wounded, although neither so severely that they were incapable of walking. The surviving men brought the other’s bodies to a snow bank and gathered their weapons ammo and supplies while others checked on the wounded. No one moved towards the motionless private curled up at the colonel’s feet. Karos took a moment to collect his thoughts and clear the anger from his mind. The sentence he was about to give the man at his feet was not one to be chosen lightly.

Colonel Karos exhaled deeply, wincing at the pain it caused, and saw the apprehension on the surviving trooper’s faces. Karos opened his mouth to speak and he heard the utter silence that had replaced the cacophony of fighting that had just minutes before cost the lives of seven men; two Cardon troopers, of which Karos himself had served with for nearly a decade; one of the Ilirin troopers; and three of the Tresdeon men who had attempted to aid Renner. Although his conscience screamed against it Karos knew what needed to be done.

The colonel lowered his pistol to Renner, still curled in a fetal ball and began to speak, “Private, 1st Class Renner. You have instigated an assault on a commanding officer and have attempted to usurp the chain of command in a combat zone, endangering not only yourself but also the lives of your fellow troopers. You are now a liability to this squad and will continue to be a threat to this unit’s safety until you are considered either a casualty of war or are delivered to a military penal facility. As stated in the Confederate articles of war I am, as the highest-ranking Confederate officer present, authorized to pass judgment on your case in the absence of a full military tribunal. Due to our compromised position I have no choice but deem you as a threat to this squad’s integrity and am required by the articles to remove such a threat immediately without hesitation.”

As the colonel’s finger tightened on the trigger Symes took a step forwards, incredulity obvious in his voice. “Colonel, look at him! There’s no need!”

Karos stared at Symes for a long time before looking back at Renner, still weeping and bleeding into the snow. “This man is the reason for all those troopers deaths. I cannot take the risk of him compromising the security of this squad again.”

Perhaps snapping back to his senses, Renner began to scrabble to his knees, his blood smeared face staring pleadingly, first at Karos, then at the other men in the squad. When he saw the solemn, fated expressions of the other men he began to weep, turning towards Karos with a pleading wail that caused the colonel to nearly break down. “P..please. I didn’t..I…didn’t”

Karos swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and pointed the pistol at the pitiful man before him, tears beginning to well up in his eyes as private Renner began frantically attempting to claw at Karos’s legs. “May the gods have mercy on your soul, for I cannot.” The pistol retort temporarily shattered the silence and left a still absence in its wake.

As tears streamed down his face, Karos looked around at the remaining men who were all staring back at him with empty eyes. Some, like those from Renner’s battalion seemed shocked and appalled while others, such as the last Ilirin trooper stared at Karos with an unreadable facial expression. He holstered his pistol and noticed that his hands were shaking almost uncontrollably. In his eight and a half years in service to the Confederate military, he had never had to carry out a summary execution.

Karos bent over and laid the private’s lifeless body across the snow, placing the corpse’s hands one over the other as gently as possible before removing the man’s tags. He got to his feet and somehow managed to keep his head raised against the shocked stares of the remaining men. Although it was hard, Karos managed to choke out his words next without so much as a stifle. “Collect the rest of the men’s tags. We have to move. Whoever’s following us is definitely going to know where we are now.”

As the remaining five men moved to carry out his orders, stared sullenly at the eight corpses who’s flesh had already begun to take on an icy blue hint as the unforgiving cold set in. He ran brought the man’s tags in front of his face and ran his thumb over the engraved lettering, silently vowing to remember the man he had killed and silently prayed for the gods to watch over the souls of the deceased. Lord Thantos, I ask you to watch over those who have passed as they join you now in the afterlife and to forgive those who sent them to you.

As he put Renner’s tags into one of his vest pockets he realized that private Symes was watching him; the man’s earlier good nature had vanished, replaced with a cold stare that showed quite clearly that Karos had lost the man’s respect. Nevertheless, Symes approached the colonel and began to help him as the rest of the squad began to move out, heading north. Not long after, several camouflaged men silently picked their way through the forest after them, barely pausing at the sight of the dead lined up at the base of a massive Thornwood before continuing on.


Etton snatched for the datapad he’d been reading as the RAEXT fast transport hit a patch of boulders, sending the small scout vehicle, as well as its occupants, flying. Etton heard Brize shout from somewhere at the driver, who was too busy shouting profanities and frantically attempting to get the vehicle back under control to notice.

They’d escaped the doomed Ducis just as the flank units had faltered, the men in those units selling themselves dearly in order to ensure the survival of their C.O. - a thought that made Etton sick to his stomach. From what he could tell, the task force was in a great deal of trouble and he had a feeling that conditions would get a lot worse before they got any better; most of his units had splintered during the disengagement and there were reports that more than one battalion had been completely routed. To make matters worse, the Republic forces had continued with their pursuit and many of the retreating Confederates, already battle weary, were slowly being run down as they attempted to escape.

Etton knew that if his task force was going to survive it would need a coordinated command structure and a chance to regroup, both of which would be very difficult with the loss of the Ducis. He leaned over to Brize, bracing himself as the RAEXT went over something big and was launched airborne for several seconds. “Lieutenant, when we get to the rendezvous I need you to help me get the units organized. We’re going to have a real mess on our hands when we arrive: individual squads, battle groups, and loners. Unless we organize them into cohesive units we won’t last against the Republic assault.”
Brize nodded gravely, “Yes, sir!”

“That’s good to hear. I’m not sure how many other command capable officers are left out here so I’m counting on you lieutenant.”
Brize nodded again, determination blazing in here eyes. “I won’t let you down sir.”

Etton allowed a slight smile to edge its way across his face before hazarding a trip to the front cab of the transport. As he approached, he heard a loud string of curses that rivaled the expertise with which he had heard his father use many years ago and quickly ran to the front of the transport. “What’s the problem?”

Etton had to brace himself against the doorway as a large explosion hit just to the left of the transport, prompting the driver to swerve hard right, narrowly missing a patch of trees. “Goddamn scads! They’re lacing the entire area with artillery fire sir! We’re lucky we haven’t been hit yet.”

To complement the man’s statement the radio chatter that came in over the comm. carried the distressed voices of myriad individuals, all seemingly experiencing the exact same feelings of battle: fear, anger, confusion. Etton said nothing as the situation washed over him: the driver’s curses, the voices from the comm., and the sounds from the other passengers. He put his hand down on the man’s shoulder, “Don’t worry son, the gods are watching over us.” Exactly after the General had finished speaking there was a deafening roar as a high-velocity artillery round hit the transport.
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Bob 121
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Chapter 2 (and possibly a new 3 coming soon!)
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Space just in case I decide to make a 3.
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Chapter 3 (As of now)

And with great vigor we renew the battle against our enemy.
None will stop us in our quest for peace, and all who swear allegiance
To the Erebian banner know that peace cannot exist until every last Aprion is slain
- High Councilor Harlan Venae (3365 P.C.-3431 P.C.)

Judicator Ames Lier made his way up the worn marble steps of the inner Council Chambers towards the Great Hall. It hadn’t been the first time in his life that he had ventured through the ancient colonnades of the Erebian High Council Chambers; nevertheless, the building’s magnificence endured. That most likely was the architect’s intent when building it, an ambition that had certainly been sated. Upon reaching the polished golden doors, Lier entered one of the colonnade’s main antechambers, flashing his identification; a small Judicial badge on the left of his overcoat, over his heart, at the guard, who promptly granted him access to the Council Chambers. Lier hurried his pace; he had heard that the Councilors do not like to be kept waiting.

Lier found it extremely difficult to not stare at the intricate carvings that adorned the enormous domed room, despite his best efforts he realize that his mouth was open as he stared at the beautiful artwork that encompassed him. He’d heard that the entire room is a means of catching its visitor’s off-guard, a way of giving the council members an edge; it certainly felt that the room’s massive volume was having an adverse effect on him.

The first thing that the Judicator noticed was that the lights had been dimmed. The illumination, which could easily rival a large stadium, had been reduced to little more than a dim glow, casting much of the room in shadows. The Councilors were arranged in a raised semi-circle while the remaining hemisphere contained numerous empty seats for the myriad senators who usually inhabited the Council chambers. In the middle of the circle was a brightly lit solitary dais. Lier, unsure of what to do with himself, stood at the edge of the light until a voice told him to take a step up to the brightly lit platform.

Looking up towards the councilors, Lier saw that many of them had made it to the meeting, which only reinforced how important it was. Councilor Perin Steele, one of the younger members of the council, easily distinguishable by his jet-black hair and sharp-facial features was flipping through a large stack of papers, a frown on his face. Lier also noticed that Councilor Donim Belthzen, a gaunt, harsh-looking man, was also reading a stack of documents intently. Looking over, Lier could see the outlines of Councilor Regis Arden, a stern-looking, elderly man, and the dark-skinned, bulky form of Councilor Thinneus Whier muttering quietly to one another beneath the lowered stage lights while Councilor Tera Aiten, a blonde-haired, middle-aged woman, stared silently at the Judicator. Councilor Marcus Toren, the sixth and final Councilor, eyed the Judicator over with an altogether unnaproving stare.

Lier addressed the arranged Councilors; “I am Judicator Ames Lier, the Council summoned me today for an assignment.”
Councilor Arden regarded him with a nod, several other Councilors followed suit, their expressions on their faces looked as though they were expecting him to say more.

Finally, after a second of silence, Councilor Arden rose from his seat. “Judicator, as you know, our war against the Aprion Republic has run into a problem. The speed and efficiency of the enemy’s response to our attack was exceptionally well executed. Several of our Lord Marshals have requested large numbers of auxiliary troops to replenish their losses. We have, of course, planned for this setback and have the resources needed to meet our military’s demand but I do not particularly like the fact that we are already digging into our reserves this early into the conflict.”

Councilor Toren abruptly cut Arden off. “Perhaps we should tell the Judicator his assignment?”

Councilor Arden regarded Toren with an icy glare. “Very well, Marcus, although I would see to it that you resist interrupting a fellow Councilor in the future.

Lier tried his hardest to keep a neutral expression as the two Councilors quarreled with one another. Several of the Councilors didn’t remain as dignified and he could have sworn that more than one smirk flash across their collective faces.

Councilor Arden began speaking once again. “As I was saying before I was interrupted by my esteemed colleague, our plans are already in jeopardy and I do not believe that we will be able to maintain the initiative if we have more problems on the front. One of our Lord Marshals has had some… problems with one of his subordinates. The man in question is General Nicholas Etton. Now, we haven’t gotten the entire picture here but it seems that Etton has been unexpectedly involved in certain… operations that are vital to the Confederacy. In short, Etton has been sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong,” Arden’s face grew harsh; “there may be major repercussions if this continues. Normally we would just remove such a nuisance from command when someone such as a Lord Marshall lodged complaints against a subordinate officer, but a number of troops are fiercely loyal to him; it seems that this particular officer is a hero among not only his own men but also to those under other’s commands as well. Your task is to “advise” him and ensure that he carries out his orders.”

Lier nodded, somewhat confused about what the Councilors were asking him to do. “And if I find out the General is incapable of command?”

Councilor Whier replied in almost a murmur. “Upon your arrival, when you find the General to be unfit for leading our forces, you are required to remove him from command of the Erebian Armed Forces and bring him to Clarion Central Command for a summary review and if needed, removal of his command.”

Still unsure of what he was being asked to do Lier interrupted the councilor; “I’m sorry Councilor, but what if this General is innocent of your charges?”

This time Councilor Toren replied; his features ominous. “The General has seen things that he should not have seen, investigated things that could jeopardize our entire war effort. The Council is positive that you’ll ensure that the General’s reprimand is comparable to transgressions.”

Lier nodded, still unsure of what that exactly meant but not wanting to push the issue he followed along.

Councilor Belthzen nodded at Whier and began to speak, his tone businesslike and removed. “We have already arranged for your transportation to the Clarion Front. Prepare yourself Judicator; you’ll be leave tomorrow afternoon. I will send you’re updated clearance codes to you after the briefing.”

The Council Members then proceeded to go over a variety of objectives that the High Council had deemed critical to the success of their investigation, which basically meant that they were things Lier had to do if he wanted to keep his job. After almost two hours the briefing ended and the Judicator was given a number of files before finally being escorted to the exit by two Hall guards. The full force of what he had been asked to do left him feeling somewhat confused; Judicators rarely visited war zones. Members of the Judicariate were a mainly used as a means of maintaining internal security against terrorism, crime, and other dangers that posed a risk to the stability of the Confederacy, not as political detectives. Lier left the Council Chambers and made his way back through the Great Hall, his head so full of questions that he hardly noticed the magnificent architecture that had hypnotized him earlier.

When Lier got outside he realized that the scenery had changed while had been in the Council chambers; it was late afternoon now and the midday heat that had baked him earlier had all but disappeared as the sun had settled lower in the sky, much to the Judicator’s relief. As he walked, a driver appeared, seemingly from nowhere behind the Judicator. “Sir would you like me to get your vehicle?”

Lier shook his head; “No, I’m fine, I already have a driver, he’ll be here any minute.”

The man nodded quickly, looking somewhat unhappy. Lier regarded him with a strange look before the man wandered away, walking as though unsure of what to do next.

As he walked away, the Judicator could swear he felt the man’s gaze on him and he made a mental note of the man’s face.


As the Judicator left the council chambers the council members stayed silent, watching Lier leave fixedly. As soon as the doors had closed behind him councilor Tera Aiten shot up from her seat and pointed at Regis Arden, her tone burning with anger; “Why would you even think of involving the Judicariate? That’s the last thing we need here. Even worse, they’ve sent us a pup! He’s no older than his mid-twenties! How could you even think of pulling a stunt like this without the complete consent of the Council?”

Arden met her stare, seemingly no less intimidated by his fuming peer than a man to an insect. “I believe that you are misinformed, councilor. I was not the only one on the council to approve the involvement of the Judicariate, in fact, everyone here, save you, approved the use of a Judicial agent.”

Aiten looked around the room at the other councilors, attempting to find some trace of evidence on their faces to disprove Arden’s words; she found none. Feelings of betrayal, anger, and confusion all came at once and she had to fight the urge to scream at Arden’s smirking face. “Why was I not included in this decision?”

Arden’s smirk widened and he sat down, staking a pile of papers nonchalantly; “We didn’t deem you to be necessary to this particular matter. Regardless, your voice against it wouldn’t have made any difference, the Judicariate is involved and they will stay involved.”

Tera Aiten stared at Arden with a look of pure loathing before nodding; she understood that there would be no point in continuing the matter. It was finished. However, the temptation for the last word proved to be too great for her. Councilor Aiten pushed in her chair and before stepping away from the table she looked Arden straight in the eye; receiving the slightest satisfaction from Arden’s sudden nervousness as she spoke. “You have introduced yet another variable into this already complex equation. If something goes wrong, you and you alone will take the blame.” With that, Councilor Tera Aiten left, leaving her fellow councilors to mull over her words.


Macharius picked up Lier shortly after the man who had asked to get his car had approached him; Macharius was the Judicator’s permanent aide and bodyguard and had been assigned to him since he had acquired the rank of office.

A solid man; Macharius was all muscle and deterred most conflict by his mere presence. However, the Judicator’s aide was no brute; his mind was as sharp as his reflexes and within his skull sat the mind of a prodigal tactician, a gift that had saved the two of them on more than one occasion. Macharius had been dishonorably discharged from the Erebian Military Academy for the accidental death of a fellow soldier in advanced training. He was disgraced and most likely would have either wound up a criminal or a mercenary later on down the line. His assignment to Judicator Lier at that time had been a unbeknownst blessing to him, while it was not the most glorious job a former soldier could ask for Macharius now had a sense of purpose and had served under Lier for a number of years, utilizing his military knowledge to save the Judicator on countless occasions. Over time, their relationship had developed into a sort of bond that could best be described as that of siblings.

After they had driven a good twenty minutes or so Macharius tried to start something of a conversation; noticing how quiet he was in the backseat. “Sir, if I may say something?”

Lier broke his gaze from the window and looked at Macharius, nodding. “Of course, Macharius and please, call me Ames for once.”
Macharius nodded, turning off the main highway. “What’s wrong, Sir? Something seems to be troubling you.”

Lier shook his head half laughing at Macharius’s stubborn use of his title and looked at the aide. “Nothing, Macharius. Just something about my new assignment.”

Lier saw the aide look at him strangely through the rear-view mirror before replying. “Before you met with the High Council you were happier than I’d ever seen you, now you leave and you look as if someone died.”

Macharius knew that Lier couldn’t really tell him about the details of his assignments but Lier still found it nice that Macharius was concerned. “No, don’t worry. It was just a minor detail. I am excited to get this assignment, I really am. It just might be a little more challenging than either of us are used to."


The trip to his hotel was long and uneventful. Macharius had memorized the route perfectly in the short time that they’d been in the city and managed to go through the traffic laden highways with little difficulty, much to Lier’s surprise. Regardless, the route to the hotel was long, giving Lier plenty of time to think about his new assignment.

One of the things that puzzled Lier most about the assignment he had been given was that from the importance the Councilors had stressed it seemed to make almost no sense to give him, a mere child when compared to some of the more senior members of his office, such a high priority assignment.

Several possibilities came to Lier’s mind as he drove; either the Council members didn’t care nearly as much for the assignment as he believed they did, which would account for why they assigned such a low importance operative to the task, or they needed a relatively ‘green’ operative for a mission that they could afford to cut loose were the investigation to go awry.

Suddenly, another, far more disturbing possibility came to mind; the possibility that the Judicariate had sent him for the same purpose. An assignment such as this was an infrequent occurrence and he could not think of any government agency that was specifically suited for such an undertaking. Either way Lier had no false pretences; he was expendable, and he knew it.

After Macharius parked the car in the bottom level of the Hotel garage the two men made their way towards the elevators. Lier strode quickly, partly because of the strange feeling that he’d had in the back of his mind about the garage and partly because he wanted to get to his room quickly so that he could review the documents about his assignment that the Councilors had given him.

The hotel was a plush extravagant establishment. Lier didn’t particularly like the décor but it was where he was assigned so he didn’t complain. Lier watched in silence as lift ascended to the fifth floor and just as the Judicator and his aide began to exit the compartment Lier stopped in mid-step, sensing that something was wrong. Macharius sensed it too and immediately threw Lier back into the elevator; an armed man in a black bodysuit stood in the hallway and fired several rounds at the aide before turning to run the opposite direction making his way down the far-end stairwell. Lier saw the rounds whiz past Macharius and got up from his prone position on the lift’s floor. For a moment the Judicator thought that Macharius gotten out unscathed until he fell to the floor clutching his abdomen tightly. Lier’s expression turned to horror as a dark puddle began seeping into the thick, white carpeting.

Lier ran to Macharius, moving his hand to reveal a gruesome wound; a round had penetrated into his side; breaking through the weak spots in his armor vest, apparently missing the bones of his ribcage. Lier pulled out his comm. and dialed the paramedics. Macharius’s eyes had turned foggy and he mumbled something unintelligible to Lier; reaching out to his friend in a feeble gesture with a bloodstained hand before slumping to the ground, hopefully, Lier thought, from unconsciousness.
By now several of the other guests had appeared in the hallway in varying states of undress. Lier shouted at a man in briefs and a dirty T-shirt who had stepped out of a nearby room. “This man needs help! We need a medkit here now!”

Several of the guests just stared in shock as he struggled to control the bleeding. Lier realized in the back of his mind that my friend’s wound was extremely severe; from the looks of it the bullet had ruptured at least one internal organ and Macharius was losing a lot of blood. One man eventually ran up to him and handed over a small medical kit. There was some gauze, disinfectant, and some other supplies but the kit had nowhere near the amount of equipment that was needed to stabilize his aide’s condition.

The man in the briefs stood there, staring at the man on the ground; his mouth slightly open, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Sensing that the kit wasn’t anywhere near what the Macharius needed he tried to add, perhaps in an effort of self-consolation. “I called the paramedics. They should be here any minute.”

Lier ignored the man, instead focusing on controlling the bleeding with the meager roll of gauze. Macharius had passed into total unconsciousness by now; and Lier hoped that it wasn’t because of blood loss.

Within minutes, the paramedics arrived and began loading Macharius onto a stretcher. Lier got up, utterly exhausted and relieved at the paramedic’s seemingly angelic arrival. The two paramedics began rushing the stretcher back towards the elevator, with Lier in tow. One of the medics, glancing back, noticed the Judicator following them and yelled back at him; “We’re taking him to Clarion Hospital."

Lier stopped running as the stretcher reached the lift and disappeared behind the closing doors.

The Erebian police arrived just as Macharius was shuttled away, Lier sidestepped an approaching officer as he tried to cordon off the hallway, flashing the officer his badge of office. As much as he wanted to get to the hospital, he knew that he had to find out as much as possible about the man who had tried to kill him. Lier made his way to his hotel room and quickly gathered his belongings.

The hallway had been completely sealed off by the time Lier exited his room and a number of forensics officers were currently poring over the immediate area, complaining about the Judicator’s blatant disturbance of the crime scene. Lier ignored them; he knew that they weren’t going to find anything helpful; instead he left down the opposite end of the hallway, towards the stairwell. As he was walking, he pulled out his comm. and dialed the only person he could think of; his old friend and colleague; Senior Judicator Thomas Napier.

* * *

Thomas Napier, Lier’s direct superior, and also one of the highest-ranking Judicators in the Judicariate, sat at his desk going over a debrief from an operative working undercover in a terrorist cell. As a Senior Judicator Napier was not required to, and often prevented from, working in the field. A grunt at heart; Thomas would much rather be out in the field than sitting behind a desk. It was common knowledge that Thomas deftly evaded promotion for over two years, only accepting his long-overdue promotion because of the combined pressure of the High Council and the several of his peers. A worn, but jovial man, Thomas Napier emitted an almost paternal aura to many of the younger members of his office.

It was Thomas who had received and relayed Lier’s instructions to come to Erebus City to meet with the High Council. He also served as a representative of the High Council, which was why he had been moved to the Confederacie's capital upon his promotion. Thomas’s comm. rang suddenly, shattering the silence in his office and pulling him from the dull report he had been reading. Napier recognized the voice instantly and instantly felt refreshed; it was Ames Lier, one of his favorite operatives. “Hello Ames. How’s everything going? Did you’re meeting with the Council go well?”

“Thomas, I have a problem. A big one.”

Napier frowned. “What is it son?”

“I was attacked outside my hotel room by an armed gunman.”

Thomas inevitably interrupted after the last comment. “What! Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

Lier answered quickly, apparently prepared for that particular question. “Yes I’m fine, but Macharius isn’t. He was hit pretty badly. The gunman escaped, I didn’t get a positive ID.”

Napier’s brow furrowed and he closed the file he had been reading. The conversation had gotten his full attention. “Is he alright?”

Lier’s voice sounded strange, there was an echo now, as though he was in an enclosed space. “I don’t know. He was bleeding pretty badly. Listen, I’m sure that this was meant for me.

Napier’s voice carried a hint of worry now. “Ames, do you need anything? I can send someone to get you.”

Lier declined. “No Thomas, that won’t be necessary, but if you could meet me. I have something I need to do first but I’ll be at Clarion Hospital soon. I want to talk to you in private.”

“Of course, Ames. I’ll meet you there.”

“Thanks Thomas.”


Lier cut the connection and found that he had wandered down to the hotel’s main lobby.

It was a huge room; constructed entirely out of smooth, dark marble and occupied by numerous mahogany furnishings arrayed around a quaint fountain. Noting several expressions of shock and horror that were being directed towards him by the other guests, Lier suddenly noticed that his hands and overcoat were still covered in blood. He quietly slipped them into his coat pocket and made his way towards the registration desk.

Lier approached the desk and asked the hotel manager, a balding, overweight, squirrelly-looking man to go over the security recordings. He was hesitant at first, probably because of Lier’s appearance, but gave in hesitantly after Lier flashed his identification. The man showed Lier into a back room that looked as if it hadn’t been disturbed since either of them had been born. A man sat in a swivel chair with his hat over his face and his legs propped up on the desk, snoring loudly. The fluorescent lights flickered on and off every couple of seconds as if trying to decide to whether or not they wanted to continue working. By now Lier was not amused. The manager squirmed at the questioning glare he received from the imposing agent.

Lier still couldn’t believe the room’s state; stacks of data-disks were piled all over the paltry eight-by-eight foot room and a lone computer screen was half-buried underneath it all. The manager timidly pulled a fold-up chair out from under a pile of disks and handed it to Lier. As he turned to leave, he informed Lier that if I needed anything else that he would be outside. As he closed the door, a stack of disks fell to the ground with a crash. The guard remained asleep. Lier shook his head and got to work.

* * *

It took Lier about an hour to find the camera feed to the fourth floor hallway. The recorder was buried under a half-eaten half-decomposed sandwich whose contents he couldn’t hope to identify. What the camera revealed wasn’t nearly as helpful as he would have hoped; the man was wearing the normal hotel garb but was also wearing a black mask that prevented him from seeing his face clearly. The stairway cameral proved to be just as useless; all it had caught was the gunman’s back as he escaped down the stairway. Nevertheless, Lier copied both files.

Frustrated, Lier left the room and thanked the hotel manager who, from the expression on his face, was still embarrassed about the whole ordeal. As he reached the door, Lier thought of checking with the police just in case they found something but decided against it. He needed to get to the Hospital. Almost on cue, the comm. rang.

It was Napier. His voice sounded worried. “I’m at the hospital. Ames, you might want to get down here. I need to talk to you, in person."

Thomas’s tone didn’t sound good. “How’s Macharius doing? Is he alright?”

There was a short pause over the comm. and he could hear a small sigh before Thomas began to speak, “His condition is critical but they’ve managed to stabilize him for now, I don’t know much more than that.” There was another pause before Napier spoke again. “Listen; Ames, just come to Cardion Hospital as quickly as possible. It’s important.”

Lier nodded. “All right, I’ll be there.” Thomas began to say something else but he stopped short, Lier cut the connection and ran down towards the parking lot stairwell.

Lier started his car, realizing how strange it was not having Macharius around with him. There was an unusual amount of traffic for such a late hour; the sun was beginning to set and the sky was a brilliant mixture of red, orange, and purple light. Lier was forced to sit in the car for over an hour leaving plenty of time to go through the myriad questions and events that had overwhelmingly descended upon him in the last few hours.
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Chapter 4

Like anything else worthwhile; war cannot be rushed to completion.
We must persevere to the glorious conclusion at any cost.
For what is more important than achieving total victory?
- Lord Militant General Elias Mortian (3538 P.C.-3605 P.C.)

Lier made his way to the hospital in a sort of dazed stupor and once he had actually entered the hospital it only took a couple of wrong turns before he found himself completely lost. The hallways all looked alike with their sterile white walls and immaculate tiled floors. Lier suddenly realized with a pang of distress that this was the first time he’d been in a hospital since his mother had died. He hated hospitals; he’d hated hospitals ever since entering adulthood, to Lier they embodied pain, loss, and death and he hated them for it. Finally snapping out of his reverie, Lier banished the painful memories away. He asked a hospital worker clad in a white lab coat, baby-blue facemask, and white gloves for the diretions to the emergency ward.

When Lier finally located Macharius’s room he found Thomas Napier standing outside in the hallway looking through a glass panel at the doctors hunched over Macharius. Amazingly, he looked even more tired than his mental image of him.

“Ames... I’m sorry about…” Napier muttered. “Look, if you need to I can get someone else to cover for you. You’ve been through a lot tonight.”
Lier shook his head. “No, that’s alright Thomas, the Council gave me a job to do and I intend to do it. Macharius would want me to do my duty.” Lier looked through the window ruefully, “How’s he doing?”

Napier nodded, motioning through the glass towards the two doctors who were bent over Macharius’s large form. “Well, not much has changed since I called. The Doctor gave him an anesthetic, knocked him out cold.” Lier stood there in silence, watching the doctors’ work when he noticed Napier looking at him with an ill-disguised expression of worry. “Look at this Ames,” Napier said, producing a bullet from his pocket. “The round was still inside of him. It was when they removed it that I noticed that we had a problem. Take a look.” Thomas fished a small plastic hospital bag out of his pocket revealing a small, perhaps centimeter-long bullet. However, this bullet was very different from that of normal firearms, even than that of Lier’s custom-made Judicator’s pistol. Strange characters were inscribed laterally all along the bullet; the sight of them unnerved him greatly. As he reached for it Thomas snatched his hand back defensively. “Careful.”

Lier looked at him, surprise and confusion showing all over his face. “What?”

Lier’s question was immediately answered as Thomas carefully prodded the tip of the bullet with a scalpel. Lier almost jumped as the sides of the bullet flew apart, forming dozens of cruel-looking, miniature razors. Thomas tapped the tip of the round with the scalpel again and the blades retracted back into the bullet with lightening-fast speed. “Found that when they were removing the bullet from your friend. One of the doctors got a little careless and fwissh! Hand got all cut up.”

Lier stared at the bullet in Thomas’s hand with a mixture of revulsion and fascination. “What is it?”

Napier shrugged. “My guess is that it’s some sort of special ammunition, very effective, if it hadn’t been for Macharius’s armor vest then there’s a very good chance he wouldn’t be alive right now. I’m guessing that there are sensors in the tip that somehow allow the bullet to sense when it hits an object, at which point it deploys. As you can tell, it’s essentially an extremely high-tech shredder round. I’ve never seen anything remotely like that before. It’s certainly not Confederate.”

Exasperated; Lier pointed at the bullet fiercely, as though it were some kind of stinging insect. “How could anyone make something like… that? We’re talking about micro or even nanotechnology here! We never had that kind of tech even before the Great Conflict and we sure as hell don’t have anything remotely close to that now!”

Thomas blinked. The expression of concern displayed on his features showing all that Lier needed to know; he’d thought the exact same thing. “I don’t know what that thing is or who made it but what I do know is that whatever’s going on out there, you’re going to be caught up in the middle of it. I want you to be careful out there Ames. Someone wants you dead and already it’s almost gotten someone killed.”

Napier saw the pained expression briefly flash on Lier’s features and he instantly lightened. “Listen Ames, what happened to Macharius’s wasn’t your fault. He was wounded while fulfilling his duty to the Confederacy and to you. You can’t blame yourself because I know that Macharius wouldn’t even think of blaming you. Don’t ever forget that or it’ll tear you apart, you can take my word for it.”

Lier nodded; “Yeah, you’re right. I just….”

Napier looked at him with a gaze of understanding as though he knew exactly what the young Judicator was going through. The two Judicators stood there in silence for a long time until Napier’s comm. rang, shattering the quiet rather thoroughly. Lier watched as the older man answered it, turning away in an effort to lessen his voice. After a minute Napier switched off the comm. and turned to Lier. “I, uh…. I need to go now Ames. Something’s come up that I have to deal with. Are you sure you don’t need any help?”

Lier looked at Napier and shook his head. “No, I’ll be fine. Just make sure that Macharius is alright while I’m gone.”

The man nodded and with that Thomas Napier turned to leave, carefully placing the strange bullet into Lier’s right palm. “Well, I have to go now Ames. I’m old you know, and it’s past my bedtime. I’ll see you when you get back.” A somber grin spread across his face when he saw Lier slightly smile at his joke. With that, Thomas left him alone in the hallway.

Lier suddenly realized that he felt exhausted, both physically and mentally. All the thoughts that had been bouncing around in his mind began to come to him as though the floodgates of his subconscious had suddenly given in to the intense pressure. He though of his attacker, of Macharius’s sacrifice, and his own mortality. Death was no stranger to someone in his line of work; he had dealt with it before. Like anything else; one can become desensitized to death without knowing and never even grasp the finality of it until it slaps them in the face. Lier sat in the hospital for what seemed like hours, watching the doctors operate on his friend and assistant with deep concern until all of the horrible memories, the bad dreams, everything, began to come to bear on his beleaguered mind and he suddenly felt as though he was being suffocated. With one final look at Macharius, Lier turned and left.

Just as he began walking away from the ward a man exited a door that was perhaps three meters down the hallway dressed in hospital fatigues. The strange thing was that he was holding something under a stack of towels in his right hand that looked very similar to that of a firearm. Instinctively, the young Judicator ducked, dipping his head a fraction of a second before the gun went off; Lier heard a whine as the round tore past, less than a centimeter from where his head had been.

Two more rounds tore past, both coming dangerously close to hitting him. Lier scrambled into a bathroom doorway and pulled out his own pistol. Lier flinched as more rounds impacted on the doorway, sending splinters of wood and bits of plaster flying outwards, dangerously close to his face. In the midst of the fighting Lier realized that the man he was facing was good, too good to be an average hit man, from his accuracy he was probably ex-military. Lier fired a few rounds from around the doorframe more in an effort to keep his attacker from advancing than actually trying to hit him. Then, suddenly, for several seconds there was no noise whatsoever, Lier cautiously looked through the doorway and saw the gunman run down the hallway and turn a corner.

All the anger and frustration that had been mounting inside me was suddenly unleashed as Lier finally found an outlet for his rage. Lier tore down the hallway and rounded the corner without stopping, cursing as he slid across the waxed tiles. If he hadn’t slipped, however, he wouldn’t have been able to swear; a round impacted the wall behind him, missing his head by mere centimeters. Too preoccupied to comprehend his good fortune, Lier sprang to his feet and fired a couple shots at the fleeing man while jumping over a cowering janitor.

The gunman reached an elevator bank and disappeared inside one of the lifts, the door closing in Lier’s face, leaving him with an alarming mental image of the man’s face. His cold blue eyes seemed to bore into the soul, and for the split-second that Lier saw him his blood went cold, it had been the same man who had offered to get his car outside the Great Hall. The man had been trailing him and what scared Lier the most was, he hadn’t known at all. The closing lift doors broke Lier from his trance-like state. Searching for a way to follow the man, Lier ran to the nearby stairwell, noting from the illuminated light above the lift that he was headed for the garage. Lier half ran, half slid, down the stairwell and reached the garage just in time to see the lift door open, bright light filling the darkened garage. Lier cocked his pistol and approached the lift cautiously, using what shadows he could to his advantage.

When no one exited Lier crept closer to the door and when he was certain that it was reasonably safe, called out. “Come out with your hands up. You are wanted for the attempted assassination of a Judicial Officer and possession of an unauthorized weapon.” There was no reply so Lier moved into the lift but to his surprise it was completely empty, looking up, he found that the escape hatch on the top had been opened. After considering going up after the assassin, a crash from the parking garage caused him to change his mind. Lier left the elevator and made his way, gun in hand, through the garage, alert for the slightest noise.

Lier’s comm. rang suddenly, crashing the oppressive silence and almost causing him to fire his weapon. He took cover behind a small sports car while fumbling for the device and quickly thumbed it off; only after his ears had adjusted did Lier realize that the ringing had been replaced by the sound of heavy footfalls. He attempted to get up from behind the car that he’d taken cover behind but the sudden arrival of several rounds impacting the hood of the car were effective in dissuading the Judicator’s pursuit. Lier peeked over the hood of the car and retrieved one of the rounds that had dug itself into the chassis. The projectile, albeit mangled, resembled the one that Napier had given to him earlier. A single thought ran through Lier’s mind at this discovery. This is the bastard who shot Macharius. Just when Lier realized the fire had stopped he heard an engine rev and tires squeal. Poking his head out Lier had just enough time to see a black, window-tinted van roaring out of the garage.

Lier ran to his car and keyed the ignition. Looking through the rear-view mirror he saw the van fly out of the garage, nearly running over an unlucky pedestrian in the process. Lier pulled out of the space and tore after him; he could see the van about twenty meters down the road as it took a right turn into oncoming traffic, causing several collisions and a three car pile up. Lier slammed down on the pedal and gave chase; maneuvering around the smashed vehicles and barely missing several people in the process. The van had made its way through the street and disappeared after crashing through a chain-link fence into a narrow alleyway. Lier followed in a somewhat more controlled fashion, nevertheless, he still lost both mirrors and he could have sworn he heard something break off when he went over the flattened chain-link fence. Lier stayed right behind the van as it made its way through the alley until suddenly stopped; the van had turned again back out onto a main roadway straight into a half-kilometer long traffic jam. Lier Grinned. Dead end. You’re mine.

Lier stopped his car in the alley and jumped out, not bothering to even close the door. The faint sound of sirens meant the police were now involved. The assassin fired several more rounds over his shoulder as he leapt from the trapped van causing Lier to take cover behind the door. Lier peeked over the hood of the car to see the assassin leaping over a sleek sports car, the driver screaming obscenities at the man until a stray bullet through his windshield caused him to scream and duck. The assassin ran in between another car and a huge transport truck in a mad dash for the opposite side of the street, firing wildly behind him and sending screams of terror from drivers as seemingly invisible forces shattered their windows and ricoched off of their vehicles.

Lier followed through the street and saw the man run into yet another alleyway. His brain instantly screamed out at him, warning of a trap. A narrow alley was not a place you’d want to be stuck in while projectiles are being fired at, nevertheless, he couldn’t afford to lose the assassin; if the assassin could be caught then this whole mess could be cleared up and he might even be able to find out who wanted him dead so badly and why.

The Judicator ducked into the alley, taking cover behind a dumpster, waiting for the sound of gunfire. When none came he peeked his head up and saw that his quarry was gone, although he could still hear the echoes of footsteps ringing off the brick walls. Lier renewed his pursuit; running through the alleyway as fast as his legs would carry him, his lungs began to burn and his undershirt began to dampen from perspiration.

Suddenly, he came to a two-way split; a pile of trash blocked one way while a shaking barbed wire link fence stood in front of the other. Noticing the motion, Lier ran to the fence and began to climb over until the fabric of his overcoat got caught in the barbed wire and eventually tore as his weight pulled down while he descended, albeit less gracefully than he had planned. Once again, blind luck had spared his life; there were the telltale whishing noises of at least three or four rounds as they flew past his head as he fell.

After rolling behind a nearby crate, Lier discovered that his elusive prey had disappeared; he sprang to his feet and ran out of the alley, somewhat shocked by his surroundings. The assassin had led Lier into a decrepit warehouse district, the perfect place for someone who doesn’t want to be found. The sun had completely set and had been replaced by the dark blue twilight canvas that preceded the coming darkness.

Lier kept his head down, scanning the darkness for any sign of movement. After what seemed like an eternity he caught a glimpse of a dark blur moving just within his peripheral vision, the assassin had changed into a black bodysuit and was moving at a rapid pace; taking cover behind the numerous storage crates and other detritus. Lier made after him, struggling to stay far enough away to prevent being seen should the man look backwards while simultaneously keeping him in sight. Lier followed the assassin for over twenty minutes, by now he had completely lost his way and was having a hard enough time keeping tabs on his quarry. To the Judicator’s relief, the assassin began to slow, finally coming to a stop just outside a warehouse. The assassin glanced around; looking back and forth, briefly holding his gaze over the red crate Lier had taken cover behind before stepping though the doorway. After he stepped into the warehouse, Lier sprang out from behind the crate and began creeping towards the large structure.

The building wasn’t anything out of the ordinary; an old, dilapidated storage building with huge doors that could very well have housed an aircraft if not for the lack of runway space. A light breeze whistled through the myriad broken windows, creating an eerie howl that reminded Lier of a wild beast. Cautiously, Lier approached the door and, with a tentative grip, opened it. Despite looking as though the slightest movement would send a piercing screech through the air the door slid open just as silently as they had for the black-suited assassin, Lier took a tentative step inside.

The inside of the warehouse was poorly illuminated. Much of the interior lighting had failed over the unknown length of its neglect and only a few of the bulbs still burned, many of which flickered, causing a strobe effect down onto parts of the warehouse. The inside of the warehouse was arranged in an unintended labyrinth; there were numerous crates, all of which were stacked several layers high, throughout the entirety of the warehouse. As Lier steeped forwards, unsure of what to do. He had no idea which way the assassin had went and so he chose the nearest path and began walking, trying to keep his footsteps as silent as possible.

Eventually, he came to an old, rusting, spiral staircase; yet another representation of the warehouse’s state of disrepair. Lier shook his head in amazement; the current construction standards of the Confederacy forbade the installment of spiral staircases nearly a century ago. Who knew how long since this building, this whole district for that matter, had seen another occupant?

The rusted, almost pathetic looking conglomeration that was the spiral staircase looked as it would break apart on it’s own and Lier didn’t have any real desire to help it but running around in the maze didn’t seem to be getting him anywhere; by gaining elevation he would be able to have a better picture of how the warehouse was organized. Reluctantly, Lier began to climb, wincing as if struck by each sound, as they seemed screamed out into the cavernous space.

Upon reaching the top of the spiral staircase Lier found himself about twenty or so meters off the ground, providing an excellent view of the paths that carve through the cargo containers; many of which were stacked so high that he could probably touch them from the catwalk. Lier despairingly noted that the catwalk that the staircase had led up to was made of a material that was impossible to walk on without producing noise; grated metal.

The time it took to cross the grating seemed to last forever and although Lier was still debating the intelligence of his decision, he ventured across the catwalk as silently as possible. Near the end of the grating he spotted a solitary light coming through what looked to be an observatory of some kind, most likely an old security office located at the top of the warehouse for better observation. It shone like a beacon, and the Judicator’s subconscious screamed at him to stay away. Nevertheless, the light could only mean one thing; he’d found his man. Moving as stealthily as possible, Lier made his way over to the office, crouching in order to prevent him from being seen through the office window. He moved up to the wooden door and readied his pistol, checking the clip and clicking off the safety, before he kicked in the door in with a roar; “Get down! Judicariate! You’re under arrest.”

To his surprise the room was empty. Aside from an old black file cabinet and a broken desk, both of which were covered by about a millimeter of undisturbed dust, the room was empty. The subconscious voice in the back of Lier’s mind reached a fever pitch but by then it was too late; the office had been a trap and he had taken the bait. The blow to Lier’s spine folded him over, causing his pistol to go flying out of his hand while he flew into the desk, missing a savage looking wood stake by a hair’s breadth. Lier struggled to his feet, still disoriented from the sudden strike when his attacker hit him again, this time with a chopping strike to the throat. Lier fell back on the desk, coughing, tears welling in his eyes.

A hand grabbed him by the neck of his overcoat and pulled him from the desk, and although he was disoriented Lier could see his attacker’s hate-filled, icy-blue eyes and instantly recognized them as those belonging the man who he had seen earlier. The man’s face was just as shocking; a deep scar ran across his right cheek, amplifying the deadly appearance that his harsh, narrow features gave off.

Lier’s attacker threw him to the ground and there was a loud clicking noise over his voice as he began to speak. “My, my, my, Judicator. You wouldn’t believe how much trouble you’ve caused me. You couldn’t have just taken the bullet in the hotel could you? Couldn’t have just died there and saved everyone all this trouble. My superior will be most displeased with the commotion caused by our little chase through the city, and I doubt that idiot doctor’s family will be very grateful when they discover the poor fool’s remains at the hospital. Not to mention that idiot bodyguard of yours either. No, I think that everyone involved would have been better off if you had just died like you were supposed to at the hotel,” he sneered through gritted teeth as he picked me up again, “Don’t you think?”

Lier made a feeble effort to shake the assassin’s grip; one which merely made him chuckle. “W-what…w-why?”

He shook Lier hard, causing his head to roll around painfully. “What’s that Judicator? Speak up now, I can’t understand you.”

Lier tried to formulate words a second time, with similar results. The assassin threw Lier onto the desk again. He felt something sharp prodding into his back, causing a groan to escape involuntarily. His vision fogged.
The assassin just laughed even more maniacally. “Well, that just won’t do. You know, I’m disappointed Judicator. I expected more from one of the Confederacy’s peacekeepers. How disappointing, here I was expecting a challenge.”

Lier felt a kick to his side, causing yet another involuntary grunt.
Looking over, he could see the assassin pick up something from behind a broken shred of wood from the now obliterated desk. As the light glinted off its metallic surface I instantly knew what it was. A gun.

The assassin spoke once more; a truly sadistic glint in his eyes as he spoke; “Well, Judicator, I’m afraid that playtime’s over. Don’t get me wrong, I had plenty of fun with you but I’ve wasted enough time.” The man brandished the pistol, looking it over with satisfaction as the realization dawned in Lier’s face. He had picked up Lier’s fallen pistol. Before I go I have a question for you; how would you like to go? “Do you want to see it coming or do you want it to be a surprise?”

Lier tried to close his eyes as he heard the familiar click of the pistol’s safety and prepared himself for the end; cursing this twisted bastard who was gloating even as he was preparing to kill him.

The assassin lowered Lier’s own firearm towards him in an almost dramatic fashion, as if wanting to soak up every second of the situation. “Isn’t it ironic, Judicator, that you’ll die by your own weapon?”
A seemingly deafening blast ran through the compact space and Lier instinctively closed his eyes, even while the rational part of his brain told him that it was a useless gesture. However, to his great surprise he found himself very much alive and unhurt after the sound had receded. Only after this fact was fully realized did he open his eyes to the sight of the assassin; his would-be killer’s body, dropping to the floor with a smoking hole in his forehead. Lier slowly brought himself to his feet. Much to his surprise he found a young man in full stealth combat gear standing about a meter down the catwalk; the black armor only visible thanks to reflection from the observatory light.

Lier kept his distance, his knees were quite weak and it was a Herculean task to simply stay standing. He really didn’t know what to say the man. “Thanks a lot. I really appreciate your saving me.”

The man remained completely motionless, taking a few seconds before replying, as if surveying his surroundings. “No problem.”

Lier looked back into the office, surveying the wreckage. The assassin’s body lay facedown at his feet, a puddle of blood forming around the corpse. Lier shivered, more at the very real possibility that he could have been killed than at the body. Glancing back at the man on the catwalk, Lier suddenly became aware that his rescuer was looking at him, his arms crossed, and head cocked slightly to the left, as though amused by the Judicator’s actions. Lier realized that he didn’t know what to say, so he simply repeated; “Thanks a lot. I really appreciate it.”

The man approached, his full form becoming visible as he entered the office. He looked at Lier for a moment and then removed the black facemask along with his night vision goggles, revealing a clean-shaven, black-haired man with intense, yet roguish green eyes. Lier was shocked, the man looked no older than twenty-five, He looks about as old as I am! Who the Hell is this guy anyway?”

No doubt sensing the look of surprise on Lier’s face, the man laughed. “What? Not what you expected?”

“Who are you?” Lier managed to stammer.

The man stepped forward and holstered his pistol. “ The name’s Specialist Draylan Barret. Confederate Special Ops.”

Lier began to introduce himself but was interrupted yet again as Draylan interrupted again. “I know who you are Judicator I’ve been assigned to protect you.”

Lier’s face knotted in confusion and he bean to say something before he was cut off once again.

“Listen buddy, I’d love to stay here and chat but unfortunately I wasn’t the only one who followed you here; the police are going to be swarming this area within minutes and who knows who else may be after you by now. He motioned down the catwalk; “Now if you don’t mind, we need to go.”

Lier managed to produce an exasperated sigh and waved over to the assassin’s body. “But what about…”

Once again, Barret interrupted. “Sorry, you’re not supposed to be looking into this stuff. Lets just leave and forget we were ever here, ok?”

Lier bent down over the assassin’s corpse to retrieve hispistol when he felt something in his jacket pocket, he quickly slipped hishand into the pocket and produced small chip enclosed in a strengthened polymer casing; a datastick.

Barret, still standing out on the catwalk yelled over to him. “Hey! You deaf? Didn’t you just hear what I said about forgetting you were ever here? Leave him alone, don't go sticking your nose where it doesn't belong or I'll have to shoot you." Barret paused after a second. “That was a joke by the way.”

Lier slipped the chip into his pocket and picked up the gun before getting to his feet. He turned around and faced Barret showing him the pistol. “I’m not leaving my gun.”

Barret nodded with almost a comical look of understanding and then reverted back to ordering him to hurry up and leave. “Come on, buddy, I can hear sirens! If I have to I’ll kick you down the stairs.”

Lier ran down the catwalk and proceeded down the rusty spiral staircase as fast as he could, still expecting it to collapse and impale him on the rusted metal bars. They made their way through the maze of cargo crates and ran through the warehouse door when Lier suddenly realized that Barret wasn’t behind me anymore. He could hear the sirens in the distance and in a moment of panic thought that Barret was still inside the warehouse when a massive explosion tore through the side of the building, blowing out a huge chunk of masonry in a rain of shattered glass and rubble. Cursing, Lier ran over to the relative safety of a cargo crate and threw himself flat on the ground, hands covering his head.

A second and third explosion followed the first, causing the building to collapse in on itself with a roaring shriek of tortured metal, crumbling brick, and shattering glass. After what seemed like hours, Lier managed to worm his way out from under the piece of sheet metal that had landed on his back and got to his feet, coughing out dust, dirt, and plaster. Over the sounds of approaching sirens and crumbling debris, he heard someone laughing nearby. As Lier stumbled through the wreckage towards the direction the noise was coming he Barret; his black suit had been stained completely grey on account of the dust but was otherwise completely unaffected by the explosion. Specialist Barret began laughing manically as he picked himself up.

Barret looked at Lier for a moment, rubbing his eyes before slapping the Judicator on the back. “Whew! Never gets old!” With that he started walking through the rubble, motioning for Lier to follow.

Lier stood there dumbstruck, a number of feelings all racing through him at once: confusion, anger, surprise. He screamed at Barrett’s receding form as he disappeared through the fog. “Are you insane!?”

Lier saw Barret’s now hazy form turn around and look at him for several seconds before yelling back. “Maybe, probably’d explain a lot.”

Lier found himself at a loss for words and decided to just forget about trying to find a retort at the moment, instead focusing on catching up to psycho before he could disappear. Lier needed answers, and he intended on getting them.
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Chapter 5

A Judicator should never expect a warm welcome from anyone in the field.
Their job is to root out corruption in the Erebian Government,
Which, unfortunately, the Confederacy has no shortage of.
Senior Judicator Cristoph Lana (3472 P.C.-3514 P.C.)

Lier followed Barret through the warehouse district for several minutes until they finally came to a deserted parking lot, which, judging by the cracked pavement looked as though it had been around longer than most of the surrounding buildings. The sirens had quieted significantly and it seemed that they’d gotten far enough away to avoid any problems. Stopping to catch his breath, Lier bent over; hands on his knees, gasping for breath before looking up to see Draylan’s face cheery face, a stupid grin lighting up his features as he spoke. “Man! Did ya see that baby go up? I knew I only needed three charges.”

After a second Lier got back up, “What the hell was that? You just destroyed a building! In Public! What… what were you….”

Once again, Barret cut Lier off, bringing him an inch from shooting the stupid, smug grin right off Barret’s face. “Well, you can’t really blow stuff up in private now can you? Otherwise I would have.”

Unable to control himself any longer, Lier pulled out his pistol and cocked it in one fluid motion, bringing it to bear on the Specialist’s forehead. “Who the hell are you and what do you want with me?”

Barret glanced at the pistol and then at Lier, an almost hurt look replacing the stupid grin. “Oh, come on Ames. You’re really gonna kill me?”

Lier tightened my grip on the handle and cocked the hammer, his voice in a controlled, level tone. “How do you know my name Barret?”

Draylan rolled his eyes, as if staring down the barrel of a gun was completely natural to him. “Please Ames, if were going to be working together lets cut stop all these formalities. Call me Draylan. Anyways, as I’ve said before, I’m Confederate Special Ops, my assignment is to ensure your safety.”

“A bodyguard.” Lier muttered, finally understanding.
Barret nodded and Lier felt a brief flash of irritation towards Napier until he realized that he wasn’t really sure who had sent Barret to protect him. Nevertheless, Lier was curious, he wanted to know. “ Who sent you?”

Draylan shook his head; “Can’t tell you that, sorry.”

Lier waved the pistol at Barret as though trying to reiterate the fact that he had a loaded weapon pointed at him, annoyance building inside him. “Listen, I’m tired of playing games. In the last six hours one of my close friends has been severely wounded, I’ve been shot at, and a building practically blew up with me next to it. Don’t push me.”

Barret stared at him unfazed. “Sorry, I can’t tell you that. The penalty for revealing that sort of information would be far worse than anything you could do to me if they found out. Believe me.” Lier held Barret’s gaze for several seconds before holstering the pistol. Barret eyed the Judicator cautiously for a moment before speaking again. “You’re scheduled for transport to the Clarion front Regional Headquarters tomorrow afternoon, you should get some rest before we leave. You look like you’re dead.”

Lier began to protest but realized that he was, in fact, quite tired. As the events from the day began to weigh on him he decided not to argue. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I could use some sleep.” Lier followed Draylan as he walked behind a mound of crates and couldn’t help but whistle when I discovered a sleek, expensive-looking black sports car.

Barret beamed at the car before facing me; a look of genuine pride on his face as he opened the driver-side door and stepped inside. “Yeah, she’s my baby, my pride and joy.”

Lier shook his head and got inside the car. He had to admit that he was a little surprised at how nice the car was, both inside and out. He looked at Barret, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, quite the ride. Might I ask who you stole it from?”

Draylan chuckled at me and gunned the engine, the car quickly exceeding any safe velocity, pushing Lier back into his seat before he truly realized what was happening. “Nah. I didn’t steal from anyone. You wouldn’t believe how long it took me to save up enough to get her though; us soldiers don’t get paid nearly as much as everybody thinks we do.”

Lier would have answered if he hadn’t had my eyes locked on the buildings, shacks, crates, and machinery that Draylan was miraculously weaving the sports car around. Lier was content with just holding on to his lunch until the car clipped a crate, causing Barret to blurt a curse. “You know, you could use a road as opposed to hurtling us around randomly placed obstacles.”

Draylan gritted his teeth as he spun the wheel sharply, just missing a stack of I-beams before tearing down a narrow alleyway between two huge warehouses. “Yeah, but the police will be all over the main roads soon. Don’t worry though, we’re almost through.”

Just as Lier was about to ask him how he could possibly know that the car suddenly slipped perfectly through a chain-link gate that some careless guard had left ajar. They sped down a narrow side road for several miles before finally reaching a main highway where they escaped back into the city.

***

It took them about an hour to reach the Erebus City National Defense Headquarters, which was, ironically, located just outside one of the most gang-ridden neighborhoods in the city. As Barret drove to the main gates of the building Lier could feel the stares of everyone they passed, staring at them much in the way a predator stares at its prey. Lier, who had prior knowledge of much of the Confederacy’s capital city, as well as many others like it, knew all too well what those people were thinking.

In a way, he felt sympathy for those people; many of the urban centers of the Confederacy had been left inadequately prepared for yet another war and their inhabitants paid for it. Many areas of the nation had fallen on hard times as a result of the numerous conflicts it’s government had either started or been forced to deal with over the decades and this most recent one expanded the problem even into the Confederacy’s capitol.

They made it through the city without incident, with the exception of a close call at an intersection and a pair of dents on the passenger side door that Barret was not the least bit happy about; the two made it to the Defense Headquarters unscathed. Once they had reached Headquarters and had passed through the security checkpoints they were directed to the main Command Center to meet with Brig. General Atlan; the base’s commanding officer. An extremely bored-looking Private by the name of J. Rheas greeted Lier at the entrance of the Command Center. He said only a handful of words to them before moving down the hallway, which amounted to; “You’re here for the General huh? Follow me and don’t wander.”

The route they traveled to the Brigadier General’s Office was a twisting, labyrinthine path that seemed almost as though it had been devised with the deliberate intent to throw off visitors. Lier was lost after the fourth turn and a quick nod from Barret told him that he wasn’t only one who had lost their orientation. Reminds me of that hospital.

When they finally reached the General’s office the Private snapped to attention, outside the open doorway and saluted; “Sir, a Judicator Lier is here to speak to you.”

A lean man with thinning, peppered hair and a graying moustache looked up from the stack of files that were scattered around his wooden desk and dismissed the Private with a nod before motioning for Lier and Barret to enter. Atlan put his pen on his desk and entwined his fingers, waiting for the two of them to sit down before speaking. “Well, Judicator, I don’t have you scheduled for transport until…” Atlan paused, sneaking a quick glance at his watch before resuming, “… several hours from now.”

Lier nodded. “Yes, well, I have a small problem and that’s why I’m here. I don’t really have a place to stay and it seems that someone out there is pretty dead-set on killing me, pardon the pun.”

Atlan nodded, a chuckling slightly. It was then that he stared hard at the two of them, noting their numerous scrapes and bruises. “You two wouldn’t know anything about an explosion south of here? Seems that terrorist rebels placed explosives in a warehouse and completely leveled the building. It was located in an old storage district and there’s now a bunch of unstable structures located around the blast.” Atlan leaned closer, his tone conspiratorial. “Funny thing is, I don’t’ know where rebels would be able to get high powered explosives, do you?”

Lier glanced at Barret and shrugged. “Nope. Sorry to hear that but we don’t know anything about it.”

Atlan was stared at Barret for several moments before returning his attention back to Lier; “I suppose that I could arrange for you to stay here until your departure, however, as you are a part of the Erebian Armed Forces you will be designated as an on-site civilian and will be treated accordingly. That goes for your bodyguard too. Do you understand that Judicator?”

Lier nodded at the General, wincing inwardly at his use of the word bodyguard. “Of course.”

The General grinned, “Very good then. Private Rheas will escort the two of you to your quarters.”

Turning to leave, Lier caught Atlan staring at Barret as they left, a strange gaze that he couldn’t read. When Lier shot him a questioning look Draylan Barret turned away and looked downwards.

***

The Private led the two of them to their quarters without so much as a cough or gesture. They followed him through the base in discomfited silence until finally reaching their destination; a string of rooms set in a secluded part of the base, far from the typical traffic and chaos that a normal day would entail.

The Private turned to Lier with a look of what appeared to be slight envy and opened the nearest room’s door. “Here are your quarters. If you need anything else you can contact the base personnel with the phone inside.”

As the door opened Lier was slightly shocked at their accommodations; As Lier stepped in the room he was greeted by a scene that would have very well fit in with the hotel he’d been staying at the earlier that evening; the bed had a beautiful vyxewood frame which had been varnished to an almost red color which matched with the carpeting. There was even a data terminal on the desk, which hummed quietly on standby mode.
Although Lier was at a loss for words Barret voiced his thoughts perfectly; “Damn! What’re you guys running here, a hotel?

Private Rheas looked back at Barret with an expression of apathy and slight loathing. “We use these rooms on the rare occurrences when diplomats, politicians, and other guests are needed to stay on-site. Now if you don’t need anything else I have other things to do.”

Lier thanked Rheas as he unlocked Barret’s door and proceeded to disappear down the hallway. He nodded at Barret before stepping into the room; closing and locking the door behind him before activating the tiny static field generator built into his badge of office, which would interfere with any bugs and monitoring devices that had undoubtedly been planted throughout the room, allowing him to locate and alter their programming withought detection.

It took Lier half an hour to locate the numerous listening devices and hidden cameras scattered throughout his quarters, and another hour of tampering with their programming to deactivate them. By the time he had finished he was dead-tired, nevertheless, fighting off fatigue Lier reached into his overcoat pocket and withdrew the datastick, inserting it into a nearby computer terminal.

The device looked to have several dozen gigabytes of data files saved to it and all were heavily encrypted. Lier had neither the time nor energy to try to begin cracking the encryption so he transferred them to one of Thomas Napier’s former aliases; one, which Lier knew had been inactive for quite some time and was therefore less likely to be under surveillance. Lier withdrew the datastick from the terminal and shut it off before collapsing on the bed. Overwhelmed by exhaustion, Lier was unconscious before he hit the pillow.

***

He awoke seven hours later to a loud thud on the door accompanied by the familiar voice of Draylan Barret. “Ames, we’ve got a couple hours before our transport arrives, you want some breakfast?”

Lier groggily stumbled out of bed, nearly impaling myself on the corner of the nightstand before his mind caught up to his body. He made his way to the door, taking a second to make sure that there wasn’t anything visible that I wouldn’t want Draylan to see and opened the door with a yawn. “Good Morning Draylan.”

Draylan looked as if he had been in a brawl with the mattress; his hair stuck up wildly while the grey undershirt he wore was almost completely folded in wrinkles. Lier almost laughed out loud at the sight.

“Sleep well?”

This time I couldn’t contain a small chuckle, “Not nearly as well as you must’ve. You look like you picked a fight with the mattress and lost.”

“Yeah, well the damn thing started it.”

Lier laughed, the night’s rest had done wonders for both their moods; although Lier was still sore from the beating he’d received the night before.

Barret glanced at Lier, and then at his room before speaking again; “Just make sure you’re ready to go when our ride gets here. I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Barret began to leave but stopped in mid-stride, as though remembering some vital bit of information. “Oh, Ames, if you stop by the mess hall be sure to try their pancakes, they’re amazing.”

Lier watched Draylan disappear from the doorway in silence, finding myself wondering how someone like that could have possibly become a member of the highest trained branch of the Confederate Military.

Lier picked up the room’s landline comm. and requested the dispatcher get him Air Traffic Control. A man’s voice issued over the comm. after a moment of silence, seeming somewhat preoccupied but otherwise attentive. “Something you need, Judicator?”

“Yes, I was wondering if you had the ETA on my transport.” Lier said, trying to remember the information he’d been given by the Councilors. “Flight 14M, I think.”

The man replied again after a few seconds. “Ah, yes. Here we go. We have your transport scheduled to arrive in approximately at 0940 Hours. There’ve been some reports of a storm system moving in that may disrupt air traffic but we should have a better idea in a little while.”

Lier thanked him and deactivated the comm., returning it to its base on the small wooden table near the bed. Lier began to pack his few belongings into his suitcase before heading for the door. Glancing at the clock he noticed that it was eight thirty in the morning. What the hell, I’ve got time. After a quick check to ensure that I hadn’t forgotten anything he picked up the suitcase, stepped out into the hallway, and knocked on Draylan’s door. “Hey Draylan. You want to get some pancakes?”

The two of them sat alone at a table in the in the deserted mess hall, each of them with a stack of syrup-laden pancakes. It was late in the morning, a few hours before midday and only an hour or so before our transport would be arriving. The hall was all but empty save for one or two pockets of maintenance crew who were conveniently sitting on the opposite end of the room, far enough away to be out of earshot.

Lier stabbed a piece of pancake, gobbling it down before speaking. “You were right, these are good.”

Draylan downed the remainder of his juice and nodded. “Yeah, all these city installations always get the best rations. Learned that pretty quickly after I got stationed at Feron.”

“You served on the front lines?”

“Yeah, for a while. Back when I was a private and then again when I was part of a Kill-team.”

Lier nearly choked on the piece of pancake I was chewing but recovered quickly; Kill-teams were specially trained squads of soldiers who specialized in stealth, infiltration, and reconnaissance. The majority of their operations were classified to even the highest branches of the military. Lier had only heard the rumors but if even half of what had heard was true then Draylan Barret was not somebody you’d want to mess with. Lier looked at Barret with a new sense of respect and awe; if Barret had truly been a member of a kill-team then that would make him one of the most elite members of the Confederacies’ Special Forces.

“You were part of a Kill-Team?”

“Yeah.” Barret acknowledged nonchalantly. “I served with this one squad for a while. Went on about fourteen missions with em’ before I was reassigned. Anyway, a couple years back, when I had just joined them, we were airdropped a couple of clicks south of the Velin Forest; you know, in the Denth region.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m not familiar with Denth.”

“It’s a heavily forested region in the far north-east.”

“Far north-east? That means…”

Barret nodded. “Yeah. We were behind enemy lines. It was a dangerous operation from the start. Our dropship nearly got shot down en route.”

“What were you after?”

“We never found out. Our C.O. never told us.”

“Never told you? Come on, how could he keep that kind of Intel from you? Weren’t you briefed?” Lier suddenly became very suspicious about how much truth was in Draylan’s story. “Are you even able to tell me this? Isn’t this kind of stuff all classified?”

Barret just shrugged. “Well, technically it is but since the operation never took place it wouldn’t make a difference.”

Lier looked at him, admittedly a little surprised but still interested. “Never took place? You were detected before you could get to your target?”

He shook his head. “No, our Captain; Rorke, I think it was.” Draylan held his fork to his mouth for a few seconds, reflecting. “Yeah, it was Rorke. Well, anyways, after we touched down, we encountered more resistance than we had originally anticipated; turns out the enemy had armor support as well as a couple of Brigades of infantry that the satellite’s thermoscan had somehow missed.

Lier looked at him for a moment. “So what happened then?”

“We lost half of our team during the engagement and Rorke ordered us to pull out even while Command ordered us to stay and complete our task. Rorke disobeyed a direct order and saved our lives. There was no way we could’ve finished our mission with that much resistance and the Rorke knew it.”

“Well.” Lier said in between the last forkful of pancake. “I can’t imagine that your superiors were too happy about Rorke.”

“They weren’t.” Draylan stated bluntly, his face dead serious. “Turns out that the operation had been ordered from none other than the High friggin Council.”

At this point Lier was genuinely confused. “What was the Erebian Heads of State doing requesting an Operation for?”

Sitting back, Draylan exhaled deeply. “Don’t know. All I know is that Rorke got screwed over pretty badly; he was demoted and reassigned to some backwater post. Last I heard it was some island somewhere in the Farus region.

Lier looked at Barret with disbelief. “All that because he disobeyed one order?

Barret looked around for a moment before leaning towards me, his voice hushed. “Listen, Ames. I don’t know what exactly is going on around here but the Federal Government is becoming more and more restrictive lately.”

Lier nodded; the Confederacy’s government had recently passed dozens of laws and regulations as a means of removing resources from local rebel factions and terrorist cells that had been striking within the Confederacy. These restrictions hadn’t sat well with the general public. In fact, he’d heard rumors from others in his agency that the laws had done just the opposite; rebel cells had been growing faster than ever and had been revieving more and more recruits.

“The Confederate government is strengthening its hold on not only the public but also the military. If they had the power to remove a decorated officer from his post for a minor infraction years ago I’d hate to think of the kind of grasp they have over the military now.”

Lier saw that Barret was absolutely serious, and he suddenly remembered the mission that the Council had given to him; as well as Councilor Toren’s icy glare when Etton’s guilt had been questioned. Lier suddenly felt very disconcerted.

Noticing Lier’s concern, Barret spoke again, his voice even softer this time. “Listen Ames. I don’t know what your assignment was but, for your sake, you’d better see it through. The Councilors are not known to be very forgiving towards failure.”

Lier nodded, wondering what he’d gotten himself into.
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Chapter 6

War is a tool that can be forged out of the most insignificant of events but often affects millions.
Ancient passage extract (Unknown date and origin)


The trip to the Clarion Region was relatively uneventful. The Gero-class transport had arrived Lier and Barret on time, despite the storms that began to form in the southwest skies. Unfortunately, they were accompanied by a gaggle of technicians who had had fallen victim to a last minute switchover and had been rerouted to the transport.
Almost the entire duration of the sixteen-hour trip, with the exception of the parts in which sleep mercifully took hold of them, Barret and Lier had to endure one of the techs, a man named Vin, who just couldn’t take a hint that they could care less about the differences in fighter’s and transport’s electrical systems. It’s a pretty safe bet that they now know more about the transport in which they were flying than half the mechanics that worked on it.

When they finally landed and were allowed to leave the transport’s cabin it felt like a weight had been lifted off Lier’s shoulders. He followed Barret rather eagerly down the ladder onto the tarmac with the group of technicians in tow; Vin still chatting endlessly about seemingly incomprehensible technical babble and other pieces of information that Lier really could have done without.

The transport had dropped them off at a bustling airbase that seemed to extend for miles; shadows were beginning to creep down the runway as the orange-red sun began its descent. Their destination had originally been a smaller outpost to the southwest of their current position but due to a recent Aprion offensive they had been transferred to Helmsly Forward Command.

One of the technicians on the transport had mentioned to Lier that the complex had been named after a brilliant Erebian tactician who had completely routed a major Republic assault thirty years prior, an event that undoubtedly contributed to the short-lived armistice that the two nations had enjoyed until recently.

Lier surveyed his surroundings as he stepped down the transport’s stairs; the complex was extensive and well guarded, not that it surprised him seeing as the base served as the only major frontline command post in the Clarion region. All along the dozen or so airstrips were hangers; some open, exposing the aircraft inside to the waning sun’s golden rays. Lier saw a cluster of buildings to the east of the base, no doubt the command center and support structures.

A convoy of jeeps met them on the tarmac, ferrying Barret, Lier, and the technicians to the main command center where they were to endure numerous security checks before being cleared for entry. After being frisked over twice, Lier placed my sidearm and other metal possessions in a bin and passed through a scanner. A guard who had looked through the bin found Lier’s badge and nodded at him. “No firearms past this point,” Lier caught an uncomfortable glance from Barret, who was going through a similar ordeal. Sensing the pair’s uncertainty, the soldier quickly added, “Don’t worry, you’ll get them back when you leave. The Lord Marshall has been waiting for you. Follow me.”

Lier began to follow along with Barret but the guard stopped pointed at him companion. “I’m sorry but he can’t come. The Lord Marshall wants to speak to you privately.”

Barret looked as though he were about to protest but, perhaps he too noticed the soldier’s emphasis on the word ‘privately’ because he just nodded; “Alright. I’ll just be here then. Waiting.” He turned back down the hallway and sat down on one of the several wooden benches that lined the otherwise bare hall, staring at the ceiling tiles. Although he wasn’t exactly sure, this was the first time Lier had seen Draylan show any hesitation and for some reason Lier in turn felt a small sense of dread begin to creep into the pit of his stomach for what lay ahead.

* * *

The Lord Marshall was standing in the center of the main command hub when Lier arrived. The Lord Marshall was easily identifiable in his immaculate gold-trimmed, matte-green uniform. The room was swarming with activity; officers scurried from console to console, taking quick, almost rodent-like glances at the myriad computer screens and holo-displays before punching readings down onto their dataslates. The hub itself was huge; the grated ceiling looked to be about seven meters high and the room’s size seemed comparable to that of a large atrium. Holograms cast a dim blue-green glow throughout; creating an almost subterranean feel that permeated the room. The soldier who I was following approached the Lord Marshall and saluted dutifully, clearing his throat to let the man know that someone was behind him; “Sir, the Judicator from Erebus is here.”

The Lord Marshall turned; returning the salute quicker than Lier had thought physically possible, “Thank you private, dismissed.”

The soldier turned and left the command hub, the double doors hissing closed behind him, throwing the room back into it’s subterranean feel as the white glow that had been dueling with the light from the holograms suddenly disappeared. The Lord Marshall turned to Lier, looking him over.

He was a tall, dark-haired man who looked to be in his late forties. Needless to say, he showed no real signs of aging other than a slightly furrowed brow and a small streak of grey that had began creeping up from his temples. An imposing figure; illuminated by the shadowy holograms he resembled pictures of the ancient heroes of Erebus that were synonymous with holo-movies. The Lord Marshall’s commanding aura seemed to permeate the room and Ames was certain that the he was as intelligent as he was powerful.

The man approached Lier, a completely neutral look on his face, his arm extended outwards. “Welcome Judicator, I am Lord Marshall Jacob Mannus, Commander of Confederate military operations in the Clarion front.”

Lier took his hand. “Judicator Ames Lier. I was sent by the High Council.”

Mannus nodded, Lier could have sworn that he saw the slightest scowl creep across the Lord Marshall’s face as he heard those last words. “Yes, I believe that I have a fairly good idea on what the Council has sent you to evaluate, Judicator.” As Mannus spoke, hearing the way he accentuated the title with the slightest hint of venom, Lier instantly knew then and there that his job was going to be much, much harder.

* * *

Lier met Barret back at the command center’s entrance. Upon spotting him, Barret instantly shot him a questioning stare; his expression already revealing what he was about to ask; “So… how’d it go in there?”

Lier sighed heavily, still going over his conversation with Mannus; “Well, I don’t think the Lord Marshall is happy having to play host.”
Barret nodded, his expression unsurprised “Well, I figured as much. You sort of have that affect on people. First the assassin, now a Lord Marshall, I’m beginning to see what your problem is.”

Mention of the assassin, and consequently the events of the hotel suddenly tore open the scab that had formed in the short time since the whole incident and it stung. Lier found himself speechless for a moment; unable to prepare a retort. Barret realized the effect of his words and abruptly decided that his shoes were far more interesting than pursuing the current conversation. The two both stood there for several seconds, Lier lost in though while Barret stared at the ground, unsure of what to say.

Finally, a private approached them and offered to show them to their quarters. Eager to jump at any distraction that would allow them to bypass any more awkward apologies or silences the two of them both followed the private out of the command center into the darkening horizon.


“It probably isn’t something you’re used to but it’s all the Lord Marshall could procure on such short notice.” The private said, holding one flap of the tent open so that the sun’s rapidly diminishing illumination could reach inside. “Is there anything else you require?”

The three of them arrived in front of an old matte-green field tent located near the far end of a nearby airstrip. This wasn’t the only tent either; they stood amid a sea of dozens of identical structures, which were all identical in both color and design. Lier had a sneaking suspicion that Mannus had deliberately stuck them here as a small means of tipping them off to the fact that he didn’t want them there. Regardless, he had endured far worse conditions in his career. Lier would have taken the tent over a wyrm-wraith infested apartment that he’d been assigned years ago without hesitation.

Draylan ducked under the private’s arm and went inside and Lier followed suit, placing his bags on an old metal cot in the far corner. The private stepped inside and looked at the two men almost sympathetically as they unpacked, silently waiting until Lier finally noticed him. “Make yourselves comfortable. I have to return to my post but a guide will be assigned to you and will meet you tomorrow.”

Barret paid the man no heed and continued unpacking a stack of shirts, placing them into neat piles, so eventually Lier nodded at the man to show that at least someone was paying attention. “That’s fine, we appreciate everything. Please tell your superiors that our accommodations are acceptable.”

The private nodded and withdrew, closing the tent flap behind him. After a minute Barret looked at Lier, “Do you talk so formally all the time or do you just enjoy sucking up to everyone?”

Lier laughed involuntarily before answering; “Sorry, force of habit. You get too used to dealing with bureaucrats and you end up like me.” From Barret’s expression he seemed to find my response to make perfect sense. “Needless to say, I don’t think that Mannus was very happy having us around.

Barret’s head shot up from his bag with a look of feigned surprise, “Really! Even with all that fancy talk and that good ol’ charm of yours he still didn’t like you? I’m shocked.”

The two of them broke out into laughter and for the first time in what seemed like a lifetime Lier felt unburdened by the outside world. “I’m as surprised as you are. It usually works on people. But really, I don’t think it was me in particular. I think Mannus’s reaction to me was more about the Council’s interference in the military.”

Barret’s tone quieted noticeably and he nodded. “Yeah, a lot of the top brass have been that way recently. They wouldn’t take kindly to a civilian breathing down their necks. Hell, they have a fit when the press is sniffing around, let alone a government stooge, no offense.” Barret’s eyes wandered off as if he was lost in thought. “I’m gonna step outside for some air. I’ll see ya back here later.” With that, Barret disappeared into the darkness.

Curious, Lier contemplated trailing him but decided against it; he owed the man who saved his life at least that much. Instead, he took advantage of being alone to pull out his PDA to see if Thomas Napier had come through and found anything for him; he wasn’t disappointed. Thumbing through his inbox Lier noticed a message from one of Napier’s old aliases, one that was rarely ever used, the message was red flagged and had an attached file. Curious, Lier opened it and discovered a line of red text that read: Thought you might want to know about this. At the bottom of the text there was a copy of a communiqué as well as video file.

Lier scrolled down past the text and went to the video file. Better check this out first. After pressing play a newscast appeared on the screen and two traditionally superficial news anchors cheerily read through a variety of tragedies and disasters before finally arriving to what he was looking for: “On battlefront news; High Councilor Toren announced that an additional half-million men will be sent to the front lines by the end of the month, bringing the year’s total mobilization number to approximately three-million. Councilor Toren stated in a recent press conference that this year’s dramatic increase in recruitment does not reflect in any way the progress the military has made as of yet.”

Lier skipped through the rest of the video and scrolled back to the remaining message and was presented with what was probably a highly restricted government document. Lier found himself wondering how Napier had come upon this information but in the end he just accepted it; his boss had an uncanny ability to obtain good Intel, presumably through his many contacts. Nevertheless, Lier found the files’ contents to be quite interesting to say the least:

From: Ricus Telford, Office of Army Intelligence
To: Lord Marshall Jacob Mannus
Decryption Key: Altus
Subject: Clarion Progress/Strategic Battlefield Advancement
Date: 296.3745

Lord Marshall,

As requested the Council has approved your request for an additional half-million soldiers. I do not need to stress to you the importance of maintaining your momentum at all costs. If this war were to result in yet another stalemate the public would quickly turn against not only the military but also its government leaders. It is imperative that this does not happen.

A number of my peers have conferred and we suggest that you launch an offensive to the Far East. Command has been given strict orders by Councilman Arden that you include all original elements of the initial discovery of the site for this operation as to limit the potential for future breaches in security. The Eastern portion of the Clarion region is an important link to the neighboring regions and will allow our forces to support the neighboring Delai region. In addition, our intelligence suggests there has been increased activity on the fringes of the Clarion region, we do not yet know if the enemy knows of the site, however, satellite imagery suggests that a large force is mobilizing uncomfortably close to the site’s location, they cannot be allowed to discover it.

It is imperative that the units assigned to this operation remain unaware of the true nature of the ruins if at all possible. As with all possible technological findings these must be kept secure at all costs.


Glory to the Confederacy,
High Councilor Regis Arden


...End Message...


Questions flooded into the Judicator’s mind as the full weight of what he had just read dawned on him. Something big is going on here. A lot bigger than I was led to believe. Glancing at his chronometer, Lier closed both files and shut down his PDA, placing it in his suitcase carefully, taking great care to keep it hidden from anywhere Barret could find it and then left the tent. He had to have a little chat with the Lord Marshall.

* * *

Getting the Mannus to speak with Lier took more than he had anticipated; it seemed that Mannus really had no inclination to deal with the Judicator at all. Mannus finally agreed when Lier told the young private barring his entrance to ask the Lord Marshall about a site in the East Clarion Region. That caused a ruckus and not long after Lier was led into Mannus’s office with fervor he hadn’t seen in a very long while.

Two troopers escorted him into the Lord Marshall’s office and sat him down rather forcefully into a nearby chair, which, Lier noted, wasn’t altogether too comfortable. One of the two troopers announced, rather unnecessarily in Lier’s opinion, that he was the man who had wanted to speak with Mannus. The look on the Lord Marshall’s features showed that he clearly wasn’t surprised at all. Mannus dismissed the two of them and ordered them outside. The last man out closed the door as he left, leaving the room silent for several seconds before Mannus finally spoke, an expression of part anger and part disbelief; “How did you know about the Theta Site?”

Lier kept his face perfectly straight as he took note of the new information before speaking; “The Theta site was brought to my attention by one of my… most reliable sources. I’ve known about it for quite some time now.” Lier studied Mannus’s expression, trying to predict what he was about to say next, from the look of it, the man didn’t believe a word.

Mannus glared at him, his eyes seemed to bore into the Judicator’s thoughts “You’re lying.”

Lier cursed inwardly; Damn. But, all is not lost. Maybe I can still play him into getting what I need. “Well, regardless, I don’t see how it makes much of a difference. I mean, the fact that you called me in here at the mere mentioning of a Theta site seems reasonable evidence to confirm that I know of something that is relatively important. And it is reasonable to assume that you would have at the very least a major headache if word of this were to leak out to the public. Am I right?”

Mannus leaned forwards towards Lier; his hands clasped together so tightly that the knuckles were white. Mannus spoke in a startlingly clear, calculating tone for someone being blackmailed by the equivalent of an ant. “I could call the MP’s in here right now, string you up on a charge of treason or some other goddamn crime against the State and you would be spending the rest of your life in a military prison, civilian or not.”

Lier kept up the pressure, taking a chance with his gut feeling. “Yes, but you have no way of ensuring that this information stays secret by locking me up. If I were to be arrested or become otherwise incapable of my duty then the information might somehow find its own way out into the world, and neither of us want that.”

Lier could tell from the scowl on Mannus’s face that he’d cornered him. The Lord Marshall sat back into his chair and exhaled deeply, all the while staring at Lier with an intense loathing. After a few moments he unclasped his hands and ran a hand through his hair before finally speaking. “What do you want?”

Inwardly, Lier breathed a sigh of relief; his bluff had paid off. “I want access to a complete background of General Etton’s military career. In addition, I want to be embedded within General Etton’s Command until either my superiors or myself deems that my mission is complete.”

Mannus shook his head; “ No, that’s not a possibility Judicator. I will not allow it. I cannot allow it.” He sat back into his chair once again, his face growing slightly red.

Still, the Judicator sat there unmoving, looking back at Mannus but not saying a word. The Lord Marshall sat there quietly for a good minute before finally looking at Lier with a surprising mixture of simultaneous respect and disgust. “I’ll give you one thing, Judicator, you are well-informed. Whoever that source of yours is does a damn fine job. I’ll move you to Etton’s Command… for now. I’ll be better off with you pestering him anyway. But if you ever try pulling this stunt on me again you won’t be liking the situation you’ll find yourself in.”

Lier nodded with fake sincerity; “Of course Lord Marshall, I wouldn’t dream of it. However, since my… quarters are quite a distance from the main Command Center do you think that you would be able to find some room somewhere a little closer?”

Lier laughed inwardly as Mannus glowered back, his face turning into a scowl. “It would be best if you left Judicator.”

Lier nodded at the Lord Marshall. “Of course. Just asking.” As he turned to leave Lier could have sworn he heard Mannus muttering about security as he left the office.


Lier returned to the tent to find Barret lying on his cot, absentmindedly tossing a bullet in the air. Barret stopped as he saw the Judicator enter, giving him a curious look. “Where were you all this time?”

“I had a little chat with the Lord Marshall. We’re going to be embedded with Etton.”

Barret studied him closely with a disbelieving stare. “How’d you manage that? Sold your soul to him or something? Not many people can heckle with a Marshall and win you know.”

Lier nodded, reviewing the meeting with Mannus. “It wasn’t that hard, just needed to have the right tools for the job.”

“Really? You’ll have to tell me how you did it; hell knows I could use that kind of negotiating when my taxes are due.”

Lier looked at the suitcase that contained his PDA for a split second before looking back at Barret. “You have no idea.”
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