The door to the hospital room opened and Specialist Richard Weiss pulled himself so he sat up on the bed. He watched the Descended silently, smoothly enter. Bright green eyes flickered between mirth and trepidation.
Wearing the body-hugging Kevlar composite that was her inner armor, and carrying her hulking carbine, Sergeant Cavina Somerset took a chair. She had taken off the outer layer of armor that contained her ballistic plates and fingered her short if heavy rifle. Tiny black horns poked out of dark green hair. Her hair was pulled back in a short ponytail with a simple band. Keeping the muzzle pointed up, she leaned the carbine on the floor where it thudded against the tile.
Weiss lowered his head in a short bow. Somerset
"I'll be okay. Ramirez did good work, but you know that." Weiss's hand went to his stomach. He looked at the glint of his thumbnail. It was about do for a replacement.
"And Sarge, you know why I want to talk to you."
"I wouldn't presume, but I have an idea." Somerset
Weiss flopped back, his head hitting the pillow. "How're Cat and Fritz doing?"
"Catilina's fine, Sandra's helping her recover, and Fritz is okay. It'll be longer for him. He'll need work for his leg." Somerset
"That's why you never pushed him?"
"Right." Weiss swallowed.
"Are you sure this is what you want?"
"This is just in case."
"Yes, just in case." Somerset
His arm twitched. It should have felt cold; there should have been a jolt; there should have been something. Instead, it was a gentle touch from a friend. Weiss looked to her bright eyes and their strangely, subtlety crinkled pupils.
"This is your first serious wound, and now you seek an escape clause." She slowly exhaled. "I offer no guarantees. Your fall may be too fast. I may not get to you in time, or it might be one of my daughters."
Weiss nodded. "It's better odds. Ain't it?"
The Descended's smile warmed. "That depends on your definition. Owens and Ramirez are most skilled."
"This isn't for that, this isn't for.... this." With his free hand he pointed to where his wound would be, under the sheets.
"And if you loose an arm? A prosthetic can give you a normal life, but you don't have a normal life do you?" Her gaze fell to the etched knife on his nightstand. Leaning against the bed was his IHR5 carbine. Despite firing the heavy 9.34 X 51mm USEA9, the weapon looked anemic when compared to Somerset
"Cavina, this isn't about picking between the life of a cripple and the life of... well..."
"Yeah, do you accept?"
Somerset
"That's it?"
"Is there anything else?" She lifted her hand off his. "I promise I'll do everything in my power to help you through this, if it happens."
Weiss nodded. "That's the thing. I'm worried."
"Is the brave body-shredding tech superstitious?" Somerset
"I don't want to be snake-bit." He noted her confusion. "Jinxed."
"You fear if you agree you'll invite it?" She ran a hand down her carbine. "Well... that's the rub. By making the deal you raise the odds from zero to greater than zero."
Weiss looked out the window, beyond the hospital and the naval base's grounds, the vast grasslands that dominated most of Pitratucu's larger islands waved under a pinprick-bright bluish sun. "There's a bit of trust between us, right?"
"I wouldn't agree to this deal otherwise."
"It's... I mean... what's with Sandra?"
"Well, she'd –um- different. I don't want to offend but, color and all. I think Coriana and Pete know what it is, but they've been with the team longer. I didn't ask them because it might have been... offensive."
Watching the babbling man, Somerset
"I mean it could be a big thing, or it could be nothing, it is hard to tell with you guys." Weiss paused. "How come she's all golden bronze while the rest of you are paler than a catfish belly?" he then blurted out. "Uh, Sergeant."
The Descended blinked. She then doubled over, laughing with increased volume. "Oh you silly, silly humans." She righted herself and wiped at her eyes.
"I'm sorry, but skin color's a touchy issue with us. Especially for us Germans."
"Yes," Somerset
"You're not that funny, Sarge."
"Feh, dainty humans." Somerset
"I thought the Makers –well- made you all the same."
"Ah." Weiss carefully said, the Makers were a sensitive issue with the Descended. "It's hereditary? Or religious?"
"For the Sein? Both," Somerset
"Which is Sandra?"
"Right, and here I was being a silly human worried about stumbling into something insensitive," Weiss rolled his eyes. "So they're a religios and ethnic minority?"
"Yes. Many still live on the Sinta peninsula back in the motherland."
"Wait, you do have racism then? But it's entirely artificial. You're a created species. I suppose there's the religious angle."
"Because bigotry has to have a rational base." Somerset
"Sorry," Weiss coughed.
"No, no." Somerset
Weiss raised an eyebrow.
"It doesn't suit you." Somerset
Matching her gaze, Wise raised his eyebrows.
"Don't be coy. You know what you are. You know why I accepted you." She put her hand on his, again. "That's why you agreed."
"By that logic Fritz'd be signed up from day one."
"Ah. His wife."
"And his children." Somerset
"But I don't have such entanglements."
Laughing, Weiss turned to see the door open. He noted the sergeant's back straighten as her head straightened up and turned. Her horns sweeping about like miniature radar towers. For a moment her face turned guarded and she clenched her carbine but it instantly passed. Weiss hardly noticed a that his own hand had gone to his knife; its etchings glowing a soft blue.
Wearing a new set of armor, Specialist Agent Catilina Springville stepped into the room. Cut in a short pixie bob, her hair was slightly darker than Somerset
Sandra had dark blue hair cut in a prim pageboy, and carried a meter long box-feed 40mm grenade launcher. The long bulky Individual Grenade 40mm Launcher complemented her tall frame.
Based off of a crew-served weapon, the design was revised to take advantage of the greater strength and endurance of the Descended. The modifications turned a tripod or vehicle mounted weapon fired by a butterfly trigger into a "man-portable" weapon fired by a standard trigger set. The IG40L had heavy bipod and the ability, though not recommended, to be fired from the shoulder. The revisions reduced a little weight, yielding a thirty kilogram weapon.
"Mother." Both Descended bowing their heads to Sergeant Somerset.
Slinging her carbine, the elder Descended rose and hugged both of them. Inhaling deeply, she broke the embrace. She studied the smaller green-haired woman. "Yes... you healed well enough, but we'll have to work on your training."
Sandra lowered her gaze. "Yes Sergeant."
Catalina chuckled. "We owe Kelly and Noravi a steak then?"
"What did it tell you girls about gambling?" Somerset
The Sein froze, while Catalina blinked. "You told us to wait until all the races concluded before settling your bets."
Sandra grinned her pointed canines flashing against her bronzed cheeks. "Lovely," she purred running a hand over her slung grenade launcher.
"I'm right here, I feel like a piece of meat."
"But Specialist Weiss, you know how we treat meat." Sandra's smile broadened.
"But Specialist Weiss, you know you don't have to worry about that." Catalina echoed. "We like you."
"Don't try to spoil the bet, he's already agreed." Somerset
"Until he's signed it in blood, it doesn't count." Lieutenant Adan Vojtech said as he entered. The short, bandy man nodded about the room as the assembled recon troops saluted. "Yes, I figured you would flock here. Where's Agents Wintermist and Anderson?"
"They're with Fritz." Sandra's smile reduced. "Sir."
"Sir, isn't that Faustian bargain business a bit racist?" Catalina asked.
"Don't you get started too," Vojtech sighed. "I was joking about Company practices, and not about a ruthless brood of demons." His grey eyes went to the ceiling as he counted. "Out of a twelve man team, there's five of you lot, and out of the seven humans that remain, Weiss here makes the third to accept your little deal. Now Sergeant what do you make of that?"
Face neutral, Somerset
Vojtech barked out a laugh. "I suppose I'm just angry at losing."
Wiese groaned. "Not you too. Sir, this is really too much."
"If you wanted spit and shine you should have stayed on with the Army." Turning to the window, Vojtech shrugged. "You having any problems, son?"
"No, Sir."
"Of course," Vojtech said.
"What's next, Sir? We know those pirates weren't working alone, someone was supplying them."
"Which is why Corporate sent a forensics team to go over the weapons we captured, and the camp... what's left of it."
"Sir, if memory serves it was you that said, 'Burn those bastards to the ground.' Though that's the cleaned up version for the report. "
"I also ordered you to try to leave something identifiable."
"And we did, their faces were mostly intact," Somerset
"I suggested that we took the heads when we left," Sandra stated.
"They would have been too heavy, Dear," Somerset
"Anyway, we're being pulled back out to New Carlisle." Vojtech said.
The women's eyes lit up.
Vojtech continued. "A wing of Maker Fantails attacked two days ago."
Her tail straightening, Somerset
"A pair of F56's took care of them."
"But Corporate's worried about more," Weiss said.
"The Makers rarely attack just for the fun of it. At least not without enough firepower to assure a victory."
"And the Company's worried about losing their fancy forward base," Somerset
"Well I doubt it would get that bad, but if we had to beg the Navy for help, well..."
"Heaven forbid the Company loose face," Somerset
"Especially not with the all those highly-trained planes and high-tech pilots," Vojtech agreed. "Anyway, once the docs declare you and Agent Hans O'Donnell fit to be discharged, we'll take the next outbound flight and take a sub back to Mooring."
"Yes, Sir."
Vojtech gave the window and the waving grass beyond a final glance. "Maybe you're little deal isn't so bad Specialist. It's been barely fifty hours and Agent Fallson's already ready for battle.
Sandra smirked slightly.
"Though, I'm not sure she'd have gone around that corner without checking it if she couldn't heal."
"Sorry, Sir," Sandra's tail and wings dropped.
"Speaking of that we may be getting Ramirez attached to our unit," Vojtech said.
"Sir, what about Owens?"
"Owens isn't a full medic yet, and this would free up his duties," the officer shrugged. "Corporate's trying something. Right now it's temporary until Fritz can return to duty."
"Sir." Somerset
The officer nodded to the Descended and crossed the room towards the door. "Take care of yourself Rich, we need you. We need people with an ounce of caution."
***************
It neared midnight as Giuseppe walked through the Descended quarter of Mooring. The night had chilled and the wind coming over the ridges of Cooke Island caused the humidity to drop. It also swept the scent of salt and seaport from the city replacing it with that of the farmlands: wheat and fertilizer.
Giuseppe looked up. There were fewer lights in this part of the city, and most of them were red. It made the stars a bit easier to see. Alien constellations sprawled overhead, though the bright band that made up the Milky Way was about the same. New Carlisle was roughly the same distance from the Galactic core as Earth.
He nodded at a brood of Descended on the sidewalk and made his way to a small deli. A small sign was set above the door: Irina's. It was lit with a few white lights. Relative to the rest of the dark street they seemed were shockingly bright.
Giving one gulp of cold air, he stepped into the deli. There was a mild tingle as he crossed into the privacy field. That was to be expected, the Descended had a dislike of being watched and liked a measure of... discretion in their establishments. It was darker than the street outside. The few red lights were turned down low. The tall man looked around, his contacts amplifying the minimal light. He appeared to be the only human in the small shop.
To the left of the door was a glass-front counter that would have fit in any delicatessen in earth. Inside was a collection of meats, and cheeses. The species and spices were different but it was nothing too unusual. Several large pots simmered away, full of similarly spicy stews. There was also a fresh crock of garlash, a tuber based staple that was a cross between mashed potatoes and potato salad in consistency. It was seasoned with diced sausages and bits of vegetables.
A rack of freshly baked bread, mostly long slipper-shaped flatbreads cooled off to one side. A side door led to the kitchen. Red lights spilled out from it due to the brighter illumination. A couple descended were inside working a sausage press.
On the right side of the shop was a collection of wide low-slung tables with fluffed pillows. A couple broods were eating. The mothers of the more cautious families carefully watching the human in the suit with the skinny tie and the narrow lapels. Meeting their gazes, he warmly smiled, close lipped, back, and held eye contact a bit longer than was customary.
His gaze skipped over trio sitting at the table furthest in the back. He walked to the end of the line and waited behind a young couple wearing matching neon-blue leather mini-dresses. The taller of the pair turned back, flexed her fingers, and narrowed her eyes. Her eyes were a deep red that almost glowed in the dim light.
Giving a little wave, Giuseppe's grin widened. He still kept his lips closed. "Please go ahead, you were here first."
The woman in front of him blinked. She bowed her head forward and slowly turned back to face the counter. Behind, Giuseppe quietly waited for those in front to purchase their meals. They took their change off the counter, bowed their horns to the counterwoman, and took their seats. Soon, it was his turn.
"Need a light?" the Descended behind the counter asked in English with a slight South Motherworld Seas accent. She kept one hand out of view, which was a new one in Giuseppe's experience. Tied into a loose bun, her silver hair shone in the darkness.
Turning to the counter-woman, Giuseppe smiled. "No problem. Got it covered." He gestured to his eyes and stepped forward. "I believe you have an pickup for me. Name's Jesse."
The woman nodded. She picked up a stack of order forms. "A small garlash pita with Sein cheese, fish sausage, and extra sauce?"
Giuseppe nodded. "Hot if you have it."
"About that..." the Descended ruffled through the warming racks and picked out his order.
"Don't worry, I've had Sinta food before. This isn't hotter is it?"
"Ahh," the counter woman nodded. Sinta, the Sein peninsula, explained the human's cheese selection. She picked up the bottle of hot sauce. The base ingredients were vinegar, dried blood, salt, and maloi. A plum-like fruit with varying levels of capsaicin, maloi was used similarly to chili peppers. It was a sweeter fruit with a more pungent aftertaste, but one that took well to drying and its pits could be used in stocks and brines. Other spices added to the flavor and smoky, tangy texture.
Taking a thin metal rod she stabbed it into the human's pita and spun it about. She was careful not to puncture all the way through the garlash. Then she took the ceramic bottle and dribbled sauce into the open cavity. The end was pinched off and she put it on the counter, still in its paper wrapper.
"Reheated?"
"No thanks," Giuseppe reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a billfold.
"You want anything to drink?"
He smiled. "No, I'm fine. You take reais?" he asked thumbing out some Brazilian notes.
Eying, Giuseppe, the Descended crossed her arms. "US dollar only."
"Your choice." Giuseppe assured looking at the bill and pulling out a few bills. "Keep the change."
Careful to avoid physical contact, the counterwoman put the change on the counter and handed him his pita. He inclined his head in a nod and turned around. The tall man gave the same empty, almost challenging smile to the other customers as he weaved between the mass of bodies, wings, and tails.
Biting into the heavy pita, he soon made his way to the very back of the seating section. There was even less light here. The only illumination came from by tiny candle wicks that floated in little glass cups full of liquid wax.
The trio of Descended at the table looked up as he sat down, long legs folding under him. They were all blonde with bright orange eyes that shown in the candle-light. The eldest sat across from Giuseppe with the two younger Descended flanking her.
"Ah, this is an unexpected surprise," the elder Descended flashed her teeth, without smiling.
"Shall we deal with him, Mother?" Revvy, the taller of the daughters offered.
Giuseppe took another bite of his meal. "Can see why you like this place. The sausage is a bit rubbery but they've got good sauce. You think they brine it for the full month like how it's supposed to be done?"
"What are you babbling about monkey?" the shorter daughter, Alexia, hissed.
"Really?" A frown crossed Giuseppe's face. "Youth. I really weep for the future."
"What's that bout?" she demanded flexing her fingers.
"Alexia, that's enough," the elder woman quietly, dangerously said.
Smirking, Giuseppe began to polish off his meal.
Waiting for him to finish Nevlani pursed her lips. "What do you want?"
"I'm going to get a status report from you. Must I remind you that your employer takes deadlines very seriously?"
Nevlani tapped her bowl. A demolished bit of blood sausage soup and bread heels were scattered in it. She looked up, oozing confidence. "This must be a joke."
"I assure you it is not Why else would I have bothered to approach you, openly." Giuseppe used the paper towel-like wrapper to clean his hands and daub at the corners of his mouth.
"You threaten Mother?" Alexia hissed, her cherubic features contorted into rage. Flames began to spark along her hands. Her tail rolled over and brushed against his leg.
Pulling his foot back, Giuseppe chuckled and turned to Nevlani. "Did you never teach them the difference between a business meeting and a threat?"
The blonde brood mother narrowed her eyes. Orange lights flashed within the depths as they began to glow.
Straightening his tie, Giuseppe sat back on the fluffy wool pillow. "This is a business meeting." With a flourish of his wrist a small crystal sphere appeared between his thumb and forefinger. Thick walls of clear material were run through with metal wires bent in what seemed to almost be a flowing twisting script. A language that had to be embedded in a three dimensional volume to be truly represented. At the very center of the sphere was a bit sloshing purple liquid. He rolled his wrist and the orb disappeared, back into his coat.
Nevlani went still and slowly widened her eyes.
"I could make this a threat," Giuseppe casually said.
"You didn't," Nevlani hissed. Sensing her fear, the daughters pulled back and began to lean onto the larger Descended.
"I found you and your little brood easily enough?" Giuseppe grinned, and folded his long hands before him. "The kind of meeting this is depends on you."
"What do you want?" Nevlani demanded.
"I told you: a simple status report. I've also got in data on an surplus shipment from Pitratucu the previous owners no longer require it. "
"Insufferable." Nevlani's eyes turning calculating at the idea of getting more equipment.
"You accepted the contract; your employer expects results."
Nevlani shook her head. "We've got someone. Alexia found her."
"Inside?"
The descended woman nodded. "Your employer realizes the mess this will cause?" She leaned back against the wall, her cocksure demeanor returning.
"At the proper place, at the proper time." Giuseppe stressed.
"Oh, I understand," the woman chuckled. "A good fireworks show depends on a sense of timing, that and having enough powder."
"You have more than enough of the latter."
"Oh yes," Nevlani purred. "That is the reason I took this contract, but must the organization be so... stiff?"
"Your employer says otherwise."
"What about my colleagues then?"
Giuseppe's face was kept neutral.
"Don't be coy. You sought me out, let it be known that you've taken insurance against me, and for what? To ensure that I'm on schedule." She leaned forward; the candle lighting her face from below. "Now, I can see my mission being a stand-alone. It's fun enough." She purred. "Well half of it is.
"But.... by itself it 's not that time critical. If anything you want to slow it down, double check your details make sure everything's perfect, then you set the fireworks, and its not like the other part is that time sensitive. It's all compartmentalized, the destination is all that counts, one ship's as good as another."
Giuseppe harrumphed.
"So that means there's someone else. Someone that depends on me and my girls hitting their cues at just the right time." She popped her finger into the candle, briefly singing it and sheathing it in wax.
"What are you angling for?"
Nevlani licked her finger. "Oh, don't be that way. If I wanted more money I'd have asked for it already. No, I'm just curious. What have you got cooking? What's the appetizer if I'm the main course? Or how about the dessert"
It took effort for Giuseppe to keep his poker face intact. "No."
"You're no fun." The Descended pouted.
"It was pleasant talking with you." Giuseppe stood; he did not smile. "Your employer has every trust in your abilities. Do not make him wrong."
I loves it. Consider me officially invested.
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