Sky's Edge

There was a quiet calm in the moment. Almario was still groaning on the floor. Crying a little. Fuck! FUCK! Being shot sucked! He slowly crawled back on his good leg as he stumbled for a moment. Looking at the three now dead attacks from a barrage of telekinetic projectiles and laser blasts.

Edmund puked into the inside of his helmet. It was really gross. Holy fuck! Holy fuck! Just... so useful. The both of them. Yup. Edmund took a moment to take off his helmet. A small stink permeating until he tossed said helmet away. Sweating, scared, trying to refocus. He looked to the large spider. Now leaking... white stuff. That couldn't be good. And seeing the medipac that was attached to the dead fighter scrambled to pick it up and open it and begin to get cleaning to clean up the leaking injury before getting wire and needle to try to help Pale from not bleeding to death.

Almario stood on his one good foot for a moment. "...Really!? You are really going to start on -" "Shutup!" Edmund snapped back. The other twin went quiet. Slowly drifting back to Rei. "..." He decided to say nothing. Trying to loot off the dead bodies. Really large jungle knives. All three of them. Several pacs of ammo, the heavy weapons in question... Wait... Was that a cord of human ears?? "Gross!"

AUK-53 collapses the rifle it holds and places it on the ground in front of it, then sits down cross-legged on the ground. The lights on its helmet dim, then go out absolutely.

AUK-53 suddenly reboots, his processing power diverted for enough time that he realizes he needs to find life to either fight or fight for.

AUK-53 has left the area, heading south into Warp Concretion.

"The Silver Dawn" appears from nothing, through a wrinkle in spacetime.

"The Silver Dawn" engages its warp drive, vanishing before your eyes.

"The Silver Dawn" appears from nothing, through a wrinkle in spacetime.

"The Silver Dawn" engages its warp drive, vanishing before your eyes.

Roland let out a drawn out, raspy sigh through the stubble of his upper lip. His breath was hot. The sun bared down on him, a few flying insects hung around. He had been sitting on a steel bench for some time now, located outside a small spaceport in the jungle clearing. His face was rough, burnt and beading with sweat. His hands were hard at work solving a puzzle cube, but his eyes were splitting focus between the few others around the structure.

A man walks out of the building. Roland had seen him before, about two months ago. Their name was Oliver Wilton. They had shown promise but were too gripped by fear to make use of it. Oliver did not recognise Roland because he had never actually met him in person before. And when Roland had contacted Oliver it was through the name of Albert Polyester. He had a fake name for just about everyone he encountered. It was all listed in a paper document he updated for himself, but it was never too hard to remember. Oliver worked in agriculture as a contract worker, and would periodically return to this part of Sky’s Edge to visit family.

Roland kept an eye on Oliver as he entered his personal transport and drove out of sight, obscured by the green brush the jungle provided its roads. He would detail the vehicle’s specifications later. It wasn’t him he was waiting for, though it was reassuring to see that Oliver was still doing alright. Roland would have to contact him again, and see if he’d change his mind. The people of Sky’s Edge saw themselves as the ones left largely abandoned by the Aschen empire. But if they had any idea how lucky they were not to be considered one of the core worlds… Oliver was making the right choice for his livelihood, for now. But as soon as some arbitrary calculation in the Aschen’s matrix of data decides it so, the Sky’s Edge may become yet another titanium hell devoid of humanity. Of course the outer worlds’ general view that the Aschen empire should be restructured to be more open would help prevent that fate. In an ideal world, no one would have to know what Roland knew. But knowledge is a weapon, one the empire wields as its impenetrable armor and unbreakable sword.

A ship had just recently landed here, bearing the model Roland had been expecting. It had been a few hours of waiting, now. Best not to get specific with time when communicating long distances. No doubt its pilot was taking their time being discreet. Roland had been very clear about protocol. If he were to expose himself like this, it was necessary. A woman stepped out of the building. Dressed in a tanktop, khaki shorts with a backpack strapped on. She looked around briefly before spotting Roland and sitting down next to him. Finally he looked down at his cube. It was complete.

“How are you wearing a coat in this heat?” She said.

“I’m just more comfortable like this.” He said, eyeing the terminal across the road. His voice was smooth, but cold and devoid of much variation in pitch.

“Right.” She said, more quietly. She pulled her backpack around, unzipped it and produced a neatly compacted series of documents. Emblazoned on the front page was the symbol of a phoenix, drawn on the paper with a surprising amount of detail.

“You could be an artist.” Roland said, taking the documents and flipping through its contents.

“Not exactly the market for it at the moment.” She said.

“You should keep at it.” He said. Roland pulled out a pen from his coat, along with a blank prescription order form. He started to scribble. “From the looks of the consultation your son is suffering from hibiscus poisoning.”

“He knows not to eat random plants.”

“I’ve written a prescription for a bentoquatam blend that he should have about thirty millilitres of every eight hours until symptoms stop. It should give immediate relief, and more substantial improvements in less than a week.” He tore the form off its booklet, and produced a standard bottle of pills. “It’s a pretty common medicine but if for whatever reason it proves difficult to obtain then have your son take these every four hours, barring sleep. Mostly pain relief, but it does help reduce any inflammation or irritation.”

“Thanks.” She said, taking the items from Roland and placing them in her bag.

“He might not have intentionally eaten anything. Sometimes you just get unlucky timing, a weakened immune system and some stray leaf or stem finds itself in an outdoor meal. Just a guess.”

“I guess that sort of makes sense… The rest of what’s in there? Is that good?” This had all taken a healthy amount of planning, and she rightfully seemed concerned as Roland looked through a couple of the pages. They listed Aschen deployment schedules in Sky’s Edge this woman had been recording for the last eight months. He quickly shut them and packed them into his larger journal before shooting up from the bench.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smiled, the slightest coy inflection in his voice. “I hope your son recovers well.” He started to head off, down the road. The woman let out a sigh. She would wait about thirty minutes before taking her own personal transport back home.

As Roland walked amongst the brush, he began to unravel his completed puzzle cube.

"Mister Cossack," says a young boy as he walks up to Roland. He walks alongside the man for a couple of seconds before they are out of average earshot, then asks, "When do you think my brother going to get back? He's run off again. You know, Joseph? I'm sorta worried. I hear he went to Langara." The boy keeps on walking alongside the older man, hoping for a reply. He doesn't know the man very well, but he knows he can trust him, as he is another member of the... well, the "Group." He doesn't even want to think about the name of it, he's sure some of the Aschen mind-reading tech will pick it up, even if Sky's Edge is decades behind in tech. Thomas, being the younger brother, is still confused as how to take his brothers actions, irrational as they are. Joseph had taken the first ship to Langara with a couple weapons and bombs, and hadn't been heard from since. At least that Thomas knew of.

"Oh God, I hope he's okay."

Thomas Lawson had appeared beside Roland, and he welcomed the company. He was feeling good about today. Given a couple hours with his new documents Roland would be able to plan a series of effective incursions on Sky's Edge soil.

It was also hard to deny the similarities between the two. Despite their limited interaction, Roland's dossier on Thomas showed his penchant for thoughtfulness in regards to aggressive behaviour. A positive influence on his brother, he had hoped.

At least he had hoped so before Thomas told him his brother was missing.

"Langara?" He hissed, holding back a great amount of fury and shock.

Roland leaned up against a tree, pulling out his leatherbound journal to find his collection of tasks assigned to local members. Despite the seemingly messy and unorganised approach Roland had to his documentation, it didn't take long at all.

He skimmed down the page, finding Joseph's name. "He should be on perimeter defense. I had him down for perimeter defense for the next two months!" That anger was making its way to the surface, a disappointed anger that Roland took full responsibility for even if he was looking to blame the young child. He flicked through more pages, seeing who was scouting the spaceports and who might have seen him leave. "Well why'd they bloody let him..?" Roland calmed himself, fidgeting with the puzzle cube in his hands. He would have to have a word with a few of the younger members later.

"Thomas," he said, "Are you sure he went to Langara? Why would he do that? I've told him…" visions of Raul, Roland's own son came to surface, "I need a moment to think about this. But if he really went to Langara, I don't know what I could tell you."

Roland had already started theorising hypothetical means of escape. He had so many projects on the go, perhaps it was time to finish one and put it to use? He could use the Skull Probe, even if those guys made Roland feel all sorts of uneasiness. And then there was the matter of Thomas. Just a kid, like Joseph (although wiser for his years), but being with the Children ironically meant they could not be treated like a child. The ethics of child soldiers were debatable, but this was their choice. Their freedom to act. If only Joseph had used the freedom to think.

Thomas observes Mr. Cossack's face go through emotions, like a slideshow presentation. "I think he was itching for some conflict, sir. I had heard a lot of complaints from him about... us, like 'hiding like a bunch of cowards, not ready to fight.' I think he ran off to prove a point." Thomas grimaces at the thought of the joy his brother found in destruction and disobedience. "What should we do, sir?" He looks at the bound book that Roland was using, and then removes his own, a simple spiral notebook. It’s filled with notes on his brother’s behavior, things like statements of Joseph’s, like ‘Just burn those monsters for what they did to us all,’ ‘Send me out to fight already. Let’s fight! No more hiding!’ And most outstanding, ‘I will go soon. Stay safe, brother, and cooperate with whatever they tell you. It’s my job to break the rules.’ Thomas flips through the notebook before showing Mr. Cossack the page with Joseph’s ramblings, and says, “I’ve been recording these for a while now.” He points to the last one, the ‘I will go soon’ one, and says, “He’s been going on like this since we’ve got here, rebellion this, rebellion that. I think he was expecting... well... more?”

Roland took the notebook from Thomas, looking at the note he pointed out before flipping through the other pages. He appreciated that he had picked up handwriting as a skill, as it served a legitimate purpose in being undetectable by the network of information in the Empire. He spoke in a low voice.

“You really should have come to me earlier about this, Thomas. If he’s gone to Langara they will not hesitate to kill him. Even worse, if the system picks up on his thoughts they will send him to re-education.” Roland maintained eye contact with Thomas, leaning down to his height. He spoke quietly, and his voice started to shake ever so lightly. His bloodshot eyes welled up and held back tears of terror. “Do you know what happens in re-education, Tom? They strip the soul away. They wring dry any individuality, any freedom, any semblance of the person you were so that they can turn you into a weapon against the people you loved.” Roland took a moment, and continued, “And they get his memories. You won’t be able to use your name in public any more. And places you used to spend time with Joseph, you cannot go to. If you told him anything, anything about our whereabouts then we have to move base. If you told him anyone's name, then they will have to change it. Do you understand how critical this is, Thomas? I will not allow the impulsive behaviour of your brother to undo years of hard work and endanger the lives of all of us.”

Roland took a breath. He would give time for Thomas to speak, if Roland didn’t intimidate him too much.

Thomas observes and listens to Roland, and then says, “From what I can tell, Joseph didn’t pick up on anything, really. He’s sort of... well, in his own world. He only knows my name and a couple of people from the security detail he’s on, at least that I know of. I don’t even think he knows your name.” Thomas clearly does not understand the full situation, but understands most of what Mr. Cossack is saying. “Sir. Me and my brother have only been here about a month. And that slightly psychotic brother of mine, while they may rip things out of his head, he will do his level best to resist. This is out of our hands now. We just need to trust. Hope.” Thomas’ eyes flicker a couple of times, but that’s the most he reveals about his inner thoughts. He had heard a bit about Roland’s past from the people he worked with. The adults usually didn’t expect a kid to listen in on their conversations. So he thought he could see why Cossack was having a minor panic attack. “And while he may be psychotic occasionally, he’s not stupid enough to get himself killed.” As an after-statement, Tom mutters, “I hope.”

Thomas draws a karambit knife from a sheathe on his belt, and begins to spin it around and around on a finger by the ring on the handle. “And I also seriously doubt he knows where we are besides planet-wise, he doesn’t pay much attention to that. The one thing they’ll be able to get out of him, if they catch him at all, is mostly information on me. And I don’t exist.”

"Alright." Roland said, shutting journal and sliding it back into his coat. He took a breath. "I've got a plan. I need you to lay low. Don't go anywhere where there's a screen that isn't ours. Let any of our people know who might be compromised because of this, they know what they'll need to do." Roland stood up, and looked toward the skies from which his latest informant's ship was visible. "Maybe Joseph was right, in some regard. It's time we started heating things up a bit."

And with that, Roland headed deeper into the jungle confident that Thomas would have things handled from his end.

"Yessir." Thomas says. He walks off, still flipping his knife, and ponders Cossacks words.

Roland is a man who does not like to run. Given the option, he will walk quickly instead.

Roland was jogging through the labyrinth of underground tunnels. This attracted the attention of many idling renegades taking their breaks in the base.

“We about to go on the offensive?” A young man shouted as Roland brushed past.

“Not yet!” Roland said, losing a sheet of paper from inside his coat.

The man picked up the sheet and showed it to his friend, snickering. It was the lunch menu Roland had planned for the next three months in lieu of greater food capacity. He swung a corner, losing last week’s defense roster and Roland’s personal exercise routine (overly detailed but simple in practise). He’d pick them up later.

He reached his office space, a dark grey room with a wide table space covered in junk. Flasks of unlabeled substances, and their respective labels littering the desk due to a weak adhesive. Writing tools, large blueprint sheets with excessive notes and while several empty coffee mugs were present not a single spill. Roland’s personal terminal was on the left side, currently switched off.

In the right corner of the room was what he was after. A grotesque fusion of technology and human remains. A skull patched with metal plating, silver tubes sprawling from its neck. Antenna spikes coming from its temples, with gears at the base of the skull. Its right eye socket was fitted with a large camera lens, currently showing no signs of life. All Roland had to do was turn it on.

Despite his rush, despite the time Roland could not spare he hesitated. They were outsiders, after all. Could even be considered xenos. Facing away from the exit to the corridor, Roland knelt down to examine the probe. There were too many variables to think about, he didn’t know where to start. If only there was a particular friend of Roland’s nearby he could seek counsel with, one he had not seen for a long while...

Thomas walks through the halls of the... He wasn't sure what to call it. A base of operations sounded the best though, so he decides to stick with that. He sort of leans against one of the walls, and sheathes his karambit knife, instead taking out his butterfly knife, which he spins a few times, ignoring all else. The loud conversations around him? Didn't matter. The group of people cleaning their guns in anticipation of combat he wasn't sure would come? Mattered, but not much to him. He didn't like guns. That's how he had lost his parents, at least from what Joseph had told him. Joseph didn't like talking about their past. He claimed not to remember, but Thomas knew he was lying. He just didn't want to remember.

An unwanted memory surfaces. He was little then, on some forgotten planet. He could hear the screams of a riot, angry and afraid. He thinks they were in a sort of building? His mother hugged him, then told Joseph something about being ready to run. Joseph nods and picks up Thomas, and his mother hugs them both.
He stops himself before the memory can go on.

Thomas stops focusing for a second at the thought of Joseph and his family, and the blade of the steel-gray butterfly knife bites into his hand. He intakes a sharp breath and drops the knife, making it clatter on the floor. Thomas wipes the blood from his finger onto his dark jeans, and bends over to pick up the knife and sheathe it. "Dammit." he says, frustrated by the sure annoyance the cut would cause to him in the near future. He straightens up and looks around, analyzing every face, looking for a familiar one he could ask for a bandage.

Days if not weeks had been spent in what Rei Harkov politely referred to as the "the damnable jungle" just trying to survive long enough to find another mode of transportation besides her own two feet, had left Rei in anything other than a good mood. The only thing that had propelled her forwards and convinced her to put one foot in front of the other, was the motivation to get off world and find out what had happened to her ship.

The Ghost Dance was a precious thing to her, and while just a ship had been both home and refuge for as long as she could remember. With it's alpha level artifical intelligence and hyper diamond hull cladding combined with it's fierce point defense weaponry, there had been little that stood in her way of getting what she had wanted. But a brief entanglement out in the Aschen Rim had left her questioning everything.

The time spent underground in the Cenote had only left her with time for more questions, and it wasn't likely she was going to get any satisfactory answers.

Easing back on the shuttle's yoke, Rei looked towards a small jungle clearing not far from what looked like the remains of an old mining camp.

Precious minerals and other valuable resources had long since been stripped from this section of the jungle. All that was left were the old workings left from the Aschen's efforts to extract everything they could from an often inhospitable and unforgiving jungle. Locals had been eager for a job that wasn't involved with the planet's on going war, but as soon as the ore veins had played out, the company left. Anything that had been left behind was abandoned in place down in the mine or destroyed to prevent anyone ever using it again.

Flying her shuttle low, skimming across the canopy of the jungle, Rei looked for anything that would prevent her from safely landing. In her mind, abandonded was good and meant that she wouldn't have to be dealing with anything or anyone. She just had to keep an eye out for any wild life that might decide to make a meal out of her.

Easing the ship down, Rei breathed a slight sigh of relief, glad for once to be back on what passed for solid ground these days. "Well it can't possibly get worse can it?" She muttered to herself as she hopped out of the shuttle ignorant of what potentially awaited her on the ground.

Sky's Edge had earned its reputation as a no go or even no fly zone, except for those willing to risk themselves and their livelihoods to earn a few credits. It had long since stopped becoming news outside of the colonial territories that some poor soul and their ship or shuttle had disappeared in or around Sky's Edge and it's few cities. One such city, Nueva Valpariso, was especially prone to seeing many a man disappear as he came to seek adventure, or his fortunes in the wars.

The small landing strip that Rei had picked was no where near Nueva Valpariso and its problems, instead it like the Cenote was as far out in the jungle and away from any known routes as possible. This was both a blessing and a curse, as there was little to find a person or for a person to be found if they disappeared under the right circumstances.

"Lookie here guys, we got ourselves a new shuttle." A man spoke as he stepped out of the thick canopy and pointed a older model beam rifle at Rei, who raised her arms carefully and slowly before turning around. "Didn't anyone teach you not to come on other people's property girlie?" He asked as he motioned to two others to check her for any hidden weapons and then detain her. "I'm just looking for Roland.. you know Cossack? Someone said if I found the old Iodralt mine, I'd find him. I'm an old friend of his!" Rei quickly explained not wanting to go through the whole mess of being captured yet again. The first man squinted at her and then the shuttle before motioning the two that had held her to bring her with. "Aren't we all." One of the men chuckled as they dragged her through the jungle and down through the tunnels to Roland.

"Oi.. Misser Cossacks. Broad says she knows you." He commented before roughly shoving Rei into the room.

"You need to hire new help Roland," Rei admonished, glaring at the three that had intercepted her at the shuttle. "Now c'mon tell them I know you so I can.. we can get this over with." She insisted. It was hard to believe that the woman standing in front of him was Rei Harkov, she was dirty and unkempt. Her pale skin was scraped and burned from time in the jungle, and underneath that was a lurid set of bruises from her time in the Cenote among other misadventures.

The guard's words caught Roland off guard, spooking him as Roland immediately stood up and spun around. At first a face he didn't recognise, Roland's first thought was to grab the closest thing in the room he could use as a weapon. As soon as she spoke, however, he was relieved. Despite the urgency of what he was doing, he was glad to be able to delay it.

"Rei..?" He broke out into a smile. "You're alright." Perhaps an over-exaggeration. He at first went in for a hug, before stopping himself to pull a small scanning device from his coat. He pointed its antenna at Rei, holding down a button until it gave two short beeps. He shoved it back into its coat, and gestured to the three guards. "Meet Rei Harkov. You'd do well to show her some respect. You wouldn't be here without her. Back to work, then. You've still got..." He checked the analogue timepiece on his wrist. "Twenty seven minutes until your watch ends. Quickly, now." They glumly apologised and made their way out of the room and out of sight, whining about how they were excited to shoot someone. "We take what we can get." Roland said to Rei. "You know how it is."

Now alone, Roland took a moment to take in Rei's new dishevelled look, trying to ignore the skull probe in the corner of the room.

"I had assumed you were dead by now." He said, moving toward a bench that had been used to lay out maps (although its cushioned surface would suggest it was a medical bed), with chairs on either side. From his side of the makeshift desk he pulled some medical equipment out of a drawer. Ointment, cream and a roll of bandages. "Apply this one to your burns, it will stop it stinging rather quickly and promote skin reparation. This cream is an antibiotic. Apply a healthy amount to your scrapes and dress however you like." He presented the items on the desk for Harkov to take. "Unless you want me to do it for you." Roland said with the slightest acidic inflection, accompanied by a smirk. He had hoped Rei hadn't changed too much in her absence and could still detect such things.

"I have questions, Harkov." Roland said in a lowered tone, and left it at that. His inferred meaning was obvious. He did not know where Rei had gone, what had happened to her, or why she had chosen now to return. Meanwhile the skull probe watched them from its corner, silent and inactive.

Thomas looks up for a second at a group of three men, walking down the sort-of hallway, and talking amongst themselves about a newcomer. He looks at them in interest before going back to messing with his knives, sitting down and taking out his DarkLine bootknife, coated in a black metal for takedowns in the dark. The dark tint of the blade didn't allow your target to see the flash of the blade with light. He had yet to use it, but still... Better safe then sorry.

"The rumors of my death have more than likely been greatly exaggerated." Rei grumbled, her mood still slightly sour after having been frog marched through the tunnels of the mine by three goons who had been more interested scoring points with Roland than anyone else. "Probably by some poor sodding bastard looking for a promotion." She added. Rei tried her best to keep a low profile, but in the last year things had gotten progressively more difficult. It seemed like she had a target on her back and from what she had yet to figure out exactly.

"Nice to see you too." She commented as the medical supplies where thrust into her grasp. Shrugging off her filthy jacket, she took a quick survey of the various cuts, scrapes, and burns she'd suffered. It seemed like any bit of skin exposed to the harsh sun of Sky's Edge had burned in one way or another. Rei was more used to the dark of space, than the bright, hot sun of the jungle planet.

"The local girls not doing it enough for you Cossack?" She shot back with equal acidity. After the last time she had let him patch her up, Rei wasn't exactly interested in a repeat of his version of field surgery. Mumbling a few swear words and wincing as she cleaned out one of the deeper cuts, she was for the most part ignoring Roland. Her mind had a several thoughts about her previous would be captors, and none of them were good.

"About?" Rei finally said squinting at the contents of the tube of ointment Roland had handed her with suspicion. "If it's about the skull... it's probably thirteenth or fourteenth era of occupation. Some people used them for nav and coms, wired them all fancy like to a child or someone with enough aptitude anyway." She explained waving and gesturing with the tube at the skull with it's accessories sitting not far off. "Sometimes there's still a spark left in them, hard to tell though." Rei added before gingerly spreading ointment on her tender skin.

Meanwhile out in the hallway, the three men stood not far off from Thomas talking. "He says he knows the broad! Ain't that the funniest thing you've heard all week?" One said with a laugh. "Yeah! Mr. Cossacks seemed awful surprised to see her." Another said rubbing his chin with a dirty and calloused hand, as if he were deep in thought. "Betcha he's havin' a little fun wit her right now.. I sure would." The third cackled, completely unaware of the relationship between Roland Cossacks and Rei Harkov.

Roland watched as Rei casually examined the skull probe, rattling off details about its history barely batting an eye toward Roland. Was this it, then? Back to work like usual?

“Rei…” Roland said under his breath during Rei’s elaboration, almost unaware he had even said it. She continued to apply the ointment he had just given her, and something in Roland’s mind ticked over.

“Christ, look at yourself.” He said. He didn’t raise his voice. “Where have you been, Rei? You disappeared. And now you’re just back, all roughed up like you’ve spent an evening with the Emperor. I had over fifty contingencies for if you’d come back as a confessor, you know. Do you want to read them? They’re very detailed.” Roland wanted to stop talking, but at this point the machine in his brain steamrolled all over other intentions. “And I’m fine, by the way, thanks for asking. I’ve only been spending every minute of my life trying to organise an insurrection out of morons and children.” He didn’t really mean that, of course. “We lost a wheat shipment two weeks ago. Still don’t know where it is. No one knows a goddamn thing, and no one seems to understand that if we don’t completely re-organise how we ration out food we will literally starve to death.”

Roland took in a deep breath of air, calming the speed of his speech.

“Ah... Rei, I’m sorry. It’s been a journey. I know what the skull is for, by the way. Outsiders calling themselves the Imperium of Man made contact not too long ago. I’m meant to contact them through that horrid thing, but… Army sorts, you know. Just another conglomeration of heartless bastards to have their way with us. But then this kid, Joseph, has gone and headed to Langara in some impulsive one man rebellion. God knows what they’ll do to him, and how this’ll affect all of us.” Roland pushed his hands into his stubble, somewhat muffling his voice and bringing out his bloodshot eyes. “His brother’s here. Came to me earlier. I said I had a plan but we just don’t have the resources to do anything without risking everything. I don’t know what to do.”

Roland grabbed a mug holding down one of the maps and went to take a drink out of it, miserable upon the realisation he hadn’t actually poured himself anything.

“I need a drink.”