Mission of Mercenaries 1999 short story by Jonathan Hicks Six years after Episode IV - A New Hope The forest in the valley was dark
and quiet, with the occasional cry of some far-off animal echoing down the hillside.
Remnants of a winter still showed where the snow had drifted, creating low dirty mounds
that appeared to be resisting the thaw. In several days the snow would start again.
Afagard’s seasons were short and very violent for such a large planet. The darkness was brightened for a
moment as a torch beam sliced through the trees, startling night creatures and sending
them scurrying for cover. As the beam started to come to the top of one of the sides to
the valley it ceased, the user shutting off the light to avoid detection. There was a
crunch of snow and a scuffle, and the user appeared, shuffling along the ground like some
low-lying predator. With a heave Ryath Centaur pulled
himself to the lip of the valley, his thermal suit keeping him warm but not allowing any
of his body heat to escape so that thermal detectors would be alerted. His helmet was
close fitting and the only indication he could see out of it was a polarised v-shaped
visor that oscillated as computer readouts flashed across it. The red and black suit was
not heavily armoured and couldn’t withstand a direct energy hit, but it served its
purpose. His operation parameters tonight were not assault but subterfuge. Out of the darkness six more light
beams appeared, each one shutting off as they approached the valley. The figures that
emerged were dressed in similar suits to Ryath but they were darker and of a slightly
different design. The visors were wider and the eyes of each figure could be faintly seen
behind the plastiglass. The newcomers were all wearing identical suits, making Ryath the
odd one of the group. At a small hand signal they all lowered to the ground and pulled
free Blaster rifles that were secured to their backs.
“Report, One,” Ryath said as one of the figures approached him ahead of
the rest. He rolled over onto his back and sat up, unslinging his own weapon as he did so.
“As we figured, no patrols, sir,” One said. “They tucked themselves
up in the basecamp to avoid the sleet storm last night. This early in the morning I think
they’ll still be loath to emerge. It’s almost fifteen below.”
“They’re too complacent. Think they’re safe on their homeworld.
Well, let’s not waste anymore time. We’ll go in five. Equipment checks.” At the instruction they all began
to make sure that all they required for this mission was present. Blaster rifle, stun
grenades, vibroblades, lock explosives, anything they could carry on their person that
they thought necessary. Ryath re-inserted his Blaster's
energy pack after making sure the connectors were still clean and slapped the arming
switch. The weapon hummed with stored power.
“Gather round and listen,” Ryath instructed. The six figures crawled low so that
they were fanned out either side of him, three a side, and had an unobstructed view of the
valley. Down in the base of the valley was
a construct, a simple affair consisting of a single-storey, four-walled building with a
generator unit attached to one side and a square perimeter fence of high-energy wire
surrounding the compound. On two of the corners of the enclosure were low towers where
sensor suites sat, trying to detect unwanted visitors. The whole place was well lit, with
floodlights illuminating everything within and slightly without the fence. It all glowed
but was well hidden in the valley. Ryath began his quick reminder.
“Target area is eighty meters by eighty, central building forty by forty.
Single entrance, left side, magnetically secured. Two towers, each contain thermal and
motion sensors to detect unwanteds, fence compromises of trembler sensornet and also
contains high-energy throwback system to resist infiltration. It’s powerful enough to
disable most small vehicles. This isn’t going to be easy.”
“Sir,” said one of the six others, “where did you get you’re
intelligence from, if you don’t...”
“Actually, Three, I do mind you
asking. My employer is of none of your concern, any of you. You are all being well paid
for a three-hour mission which is about to reach its conclusion and I don’t want
questions flying about in anyone’s heads about who’s who. Now, let’s go
over it one more time. One.” Ryath pointed at the first figure.
“Approach within sensornet reach and demp-gun towers to temporarily deactivate
sensortowers.”
“Two.”
“Approach main gate below sensornet and bypass power feed to lower wire.
Maintain position.”
“Three.”
“Left side approach for darkest area and main building entrance. Cut lower
wire after bypass. Maintain position.”
“Four.”
“Follow team leader into compound and unlock main building doors.”
“Five.”
“Accompany team leader on search and locate.”
“Six.”
“Perimeter. Upon completion of mission or detection and alarm I defend escape
route.” Satisfied, Ryath changed the
setting on his rifle.
“Now, the Blackwing mercenaries protecting this area of Afagard are notorious
for revenge attacks, so if you have to shoot then shoot to kill, and make sure you’re
target stays down. We cannot afford to leave even one of them alive if they see us. Only
Five and I are going into the building, so the rest of you stay outside, even if things
sound bad. If fighting does break out then the chances are they’ll alert a base not
far from here, about twice the distance from where we touched down in our shuttle.
They’ll be here within an hour and a half minimum, so we can’t dawdle. The
shuttle is half an hour from here, taking into account our package may slow us down. Our
package is a civilian, human, one-point-five meters high with a baldhead and vision-aid
lens implants. He is not to be harmed and is to be escorted to the shuttle. Does everyone
understand?” As one they said, “Yes,
sir.”
“Make sure you do. We’ll make our way to the tree’s edge and
we’ll get started. Move out.” They split up, heading off in
different directions but then descending the side of the valley no more than ten meters
apart. Silent. Fast. All had been on countless missions and had the expertise Ryath
expected of a trained operative. Expected of himself. They all came to the tree line and
sat waiting for Ryath’s order to begin. Ryath checked his chronometer,
looked up at the sky to make sure the weather wouldn’t suddenly change and hamper
their efforts, and then looked over at One. With a sharp chopping motion Ryath signalled
the mission to begin. One headed out, low and quick,
reaching the circle of light and then dropping to the ground, working his way along the
damp earth towards the gate. He knew his suit would protect him against the tower’s
thermal scanner and the motion sensor was only set for half a meter or higher so that
forest animals wouldn’t set off the alarms prematurely. No patrols walked the inner
perimeter or along the roof of the building. The frost on the ground was thick, making
crawling progress slow. Ryath watched intently. He knew
that the others were not watching their comrade’s progress but watching him, waiting
for the signal to start their objectives. One stopped, unslung another weapon
and took aim at the first tower, checking the range and line of sight to the second tower
before firing. His position relative to the two towers formed an almost perfect line
between the three, enabling him to fire two quick shots in succession, minimising the risk
of detection. Shot one. Shot two. Both towers
crackled with electromagnetic energy as One struck both of them successfully. For the next
few minutes the sensornets would be off-line. One stayed in his position, bringing up his
rifle and waiting to give covering fire if necessary. Ryath pointed at Two. He ran, full pelt, towards the side
of the fence with the main gate. Twelve wires were tied into this gate and all around the
compound, but it was only the lower wire he was interested in. As he approached the gate
he dropped, sliding the last few feet and waiting for signs of detection. None came. Ryath watched, the climate control
in his helmet reducing his sweating as he watched Two fumble with a small toolkit and then
hunch over the wire. One had come up to one knee, sweeping the compound with his
rifle’s scope. Two turned and gave the thumbs up,
replacing his toolkit and going onto one knee also, his weapon up and ready. Ryath pointed at Three. He was up and gone before Ryath had
lowered his finger. He ran up to the other side of the fence, opposite the main entrance,
and dropped low. A small cutter came out and he sliced the wire. Two’s bypass had
done the trick - there was no alarm and no energy shock. Ryath pointed at Six, and then
moved off, Four and Five in tow. Six lifted his rifle and added another barrel and heavier
energy pack, adjusted the sight and sat waiting for trouble. The trio ran past One, who did not
even acknowledge their presence, and then slid low to get under the fence, through the
wire Three had cut. He just sat with his weapon ready, another line of defence if things
went wrong. A quick burst of speed and the
three were by the door. It was huge and heavy set, but their target was a smaller service
door set into the larger one. Ryath pointed at Four and then at the lock. He and Five
primed their Blasters and took station either side of the door. Four already had a delicate set of
small tools and a circuit breaker ready. He connected the wires of the breaker to either
side of the door, on the frame, to bypass the magnetic seal and then connected a small
power plant to the centre. He flipped open the door control panel, prised out a switch,
cut the wire and stood back. There was a low hum and the door
slid open, the wires either side redirecting the magnetic seal. After the seal had gone
down it was a simple matter of opening the doors. As it slid open, Ryath and Five spun
around, weapons ready, and scoped the inside. The service door allowed access
into the building proper, which was basically a huge warehouse. To the left were three
rooms, obviously some sort of living area, to the right was a separate room, heavy set
with a large blast door. Outside stood two guards, a human and a Weequay, talking in low
tones, sipping from steaming mugs and dressed in the dark red uniform of the Blackwing
Mercenary Brigade. They hadn’t noticed the door sliding open. Ryath motioned with a sharp hand
signal and the two of them dropped low, behind packing crates that dominated the entire
warehouse. Each one was marked with a warning symbol in several languages and then a
designation.
“Weapons,” Five remarked. “It’s an ammunition depot.” Ryath motioned for him to be
silent. Then he pointed to the two guards.
“That’s where our package is, it’s heavily sealed and guarded. Make
your way to the Weequay.” They split up, moving silently as
smoke through the crates and coming within a few feet of the oblivious guards. Five, out
of the line of sight of the guards, looked over to Ryath for instructions. Ryath held up one finger, pointed
at Five’s guard, and then slashed his thumb across his throat with two quick
movements. Five understood and unsheathed his vibroblade. Five was up in a second, one arm
around the Weequays throat and his vibroblade in his back. As the human opened his mouth
to raise the alarm, Ryath leaped from the shadows, his hand clamping over his mouth and
his blade flashing in the dim light. Without a sound, the man disappeared into the
darkness. Ryath emerged a few seconds later, re-sheathing his blade and checking around
for other signs of guards. Satisfied they had not been seen,
Ryath stepped up to the door and checked the lock. It was a simple lock, activated by a
single press of a switch. Obviously this was some kind of portable cell, with no door
mechanism on the inside. He pressed the switch and the door opened slowly. Five watched Ryath’s back as
he entered the cell, scanning the warehouse and waiting for instructions. The man inside the cell was
obviously shocked, staggering back from the sudden light. His baldhead was sheened with
sweat, the lenses over his eyes were wide and reflective, almost giving the impression
that half of his parentage was insect. He held up a hand try and see Ryath more clearly,
silhouetted as he was against the door.
“Who...?”
“Professor Torl?” Ryath said, stepping into the room.
“Yes?”
“I’ve come to get you out. Come on.” Ignoring the man’s protests
Ryath grabbed him by the bicep and dragged him out of the cell. As they emerged into the
light, the man started to panic.
“No... No! I don’t want to go, get it? I don’t need rescuing.” Ryath pulled the man down, and then
let him go to check his Blaster.
“The choice isn’t yours.”
“Help! Help me!” The man leaped up, arms waving. Shocked, Five leaped up
and slammed the butt of his rifle into the back of his head, knocking him dazed to the
ground. But the damage was already done.
Lights came on in the other rooms, lights illuminated the entire warehouse and Blackwings
started to emerge into the warehouse, weapons raised and sleepy eyes wide.
“We’re compromised.” Ryath took a small explosive out of
his belt and set the timer, placing it against one of the crates covered with the most
warning symbols. He motioned for Five to bring the groggy Torl and headed off. As soon as they emerged into the
vicinity of the door there was a shout. Ryath spun, seeing the Blackwing raising his
Blaster but he fired first, the bolt exploding his chest and throwing him back. A second
Blackwing ran up beside the crates covering Ryath, not fully knowing where his adversary
was, and Ryath stood, arm out in a blow that combined the Blackwings speed and his
strength, sending the man flipping over backwards and then to the ground. Ryath laid down more shots at the
approaching mercenaries and shouted at Five, “Go!” Five heaved Torl over his shoulder
and out the door, running at full pelt across the open enclosure. Ryath followed him in a
second, turning from the firefight and concentrating on getting back across to the tree
line. He slapped Four on the shoulder.
“Evac!” he roared. As they ran across the compound the
Blackwings started to emerge from the door. One, Two and Three opened up from their
relative positions, obliterating anything that moved in the doorway. As Ryath and the
others reached their positions they joined the evacuation, allowing their compatriots to
cover their retreat. Within a minute of the first shot they were all running back towards
Six’s position.
“Covering fire!” screamed Ryath, and Six opened up, his light repeating
Blaster spraying bolts all over the doorway. By the time the others had reached the
treeline, only four Blackwings had managed to get through the doorway alive and start a
pursuit. Ryath checked his chronometer.
“Get into the trees!” Confused, the six men did as
instructed. The severity of Ryath’s words caused them to run as if the whole
Blackwing army was after them. Before the first Blackwing had
reached the fence, there was a small explosion from within the building. Then it
vaporised. The darkness was obliterated as
Ryath’s small charge detonated the larger crate, which he had noticed was packed with
heavy plasooka ammunition packs. The combined energy of the crates, and of the rest of the
armoury, sent a shockwave that caused the trees to lean. A mushroom cloud rose twice the
size of the compound, and as the light faded small fiery items started to fall from the
sky. The team picked themselves from
where they had been thrown from the shockwave. Incredulous, they looked over at Ryath.
“Like I said,” he explained, “not one alive. They most likely got a
message away to the next base so lets go. We’ll beat their reinforcements to the
landing site but we’d better get going now. Within the hour, this place will be
crawling with Blackwings. Five, you carry Torl.” The unwilling rescuee had fallen
unconscious from the combined effects of the rifle strike and the concussion from the
destruction of the base. Ryath was secretly glad. He knew that the chances were he would
be unwilling to go with them and didn’t want him slowing them up. There was no further instruction.
Ryath took point with One, moving quickly and silently, weapons ready in case any
unforeseen circumstances arose. It took a little longer to reach
the landing site than Ryath would have liked. Forty minutes after leaving the site of the
raid, the eight men had come to the area where the shuttle had been hidden. Torl was still
unconscious, thanks to Ryath steady course of stun blasts. The shuttle had been painted rusty
browns and garish greens to suit the foliage it rested in. It was small and nimble, fast
enough to appear as a meteor on most sensors and manoeuvrable enough to sustain the image
until it almost impacted the ground. The men approached, and as they
came to the ramp, Ryath held back.
“This is where we split up,” Ryath said. Two of the men looked at him in
confusion.
“You’re not coming to the rendezvous?”
“I am, but I’ll be making my own way there. I will have payment for your
services when I arrive. You may take the target, Torl, with you as a sureguard of my
arrival.” The men looked to each other but it
was obvious they were content with the arrangement. One stepped forward.
“It was an honour hiring ourselves out to your command, sir.” Ryath shook the offered hand.
“Your performance was exemplary. All of you. The honour was mine. Now, get
going. I have a personal mission to fulfil and then I’ll catch up with you all.” Used to taking orders and
understanding they were not required to know what their employer was doing off-mission,
the men took Torl and ascended the ramp. Ryath stood back as the engines whined into life. Slowly the shuttle rose, thrusters
glaring and landing gear retracting. It’s wings swept back for orbital acceleration
and it cleared the tops of the trees. Ryath was awash with heat and light
as the vessel rose. He watched as it tilted back and engaged it’s main drive, moving
away from the landing site. The tops of the trees swayed and ground debris was blown
around as the ship ascended. Ryath continued to watch. The ship
accelerated away, over the trees, and then up to freedom. There was a beep as Ryath pressed
the small red button on his chronometer. He looked up to the shuttle for the results of
the action. The rear end of the shuttle seemed
to belch smoke, the vessel losing altitude quickly. Yellow flames roared from its engine
compartment, and as it pointed it’s nose to the ground it started to spin as another
explosion sent it careering. Before it struck the ground at the same velocity it had been
trying to escape it, the whole rear erupted. A second later, it connected with the forest,
and the explosion was huge although all Ryath heard was the distant rumble, like far-off
thunder. He had not seen any escape pods jettison. There was no way the six men and Torl
had had chance to eject. It had been easy to plant the
device to the engine core. He had insisted that he inspect the vessel, as he was the
commanding officer and employer of the six mercenaries. He had easily placed the explosive
to the main power feed to the core. Then all he had to do was press a button and it was
all over. All over. What the hell have I done? Ryath had instructed, fought
alongside these men. They in turn had trusted his competence as a commanding officer. They
had all heard of Ryath Centaur and knew of his capabilities. They had placed their lives
in each others hands and this was the result. Ryath had betrayed them all by destroying
their vessel. He stared, suddenly shocked, at the smoke rising from the crashed ship. What the hell have I become? His mind drifted back to when Glann
Cipple, crimelord and governor of Amagad City, had called him into his office. Ryath. I know you’re good at these
things so I’ve a proposition for you. One of my top researchers, Torl, has decided to
take off and he’s defected to a mercenary group, the Blackwings. I’m not sure if
he’s there willingly or not. If he’s not, bring him back. If he is, kill him.
I’ve got the details here of where he’s being kept. The Blackwings aren’t
too hot on security. I know you’ll want to take your
own team in, but I’ve got other ideas. There are six mercs calling themselves the
Overlord Squad who made a raid on one of my safehouses a few days back. They know the
location of some of my other places and I won’t let them walk around with that kind
of information. I want you to hire them and get rid of them when the jobs over. Don’t look at me like that.
I’ve hired people to do worse things and you are a mercenary, after all. The money's
good, but leave my name out of it. I’ll send a ship to pick you up when it’s
over, unless you can get off-planet yourself. Fair enough. Where do you want the ship
to meet you? With a roar of retros and a wash of
light, the freighter emerged from the clouds. Ryath looked up, knowing they had been
watching from orbit, waiting for the Overlord Squad’s vessel to go down. Now they
were here to pick him up. To pat him on the back. To congratulate him on a job well done. I fought the Blackwings, who are
murderers and thieves, and then I become what I fought by murdering men who trusted me. The ship came down. Landing gear
extended and connected with the ground. I didn’t fight for anything but money. It
blinded me. The ship settled, creaking and
groaning. I murdered for the Empire. I fought for Glann. I killed for money. The main ramp lowered. Ryath had
his back turned to the vessel as a figure emerged and quick-stepped down the ramp. What have I become? I was a soldier. Now I’m a
murderer and a liar.
“Ryath?” Slowly, Ryath turned. He stared at
a tall man in grey-black clothes, his hair cropped short and a nasty scar running down his
face.
“Hello, Kaile.”
“Ryath, there’s a few dozen troops headed this way, I’d say about
ten minutes, with armour. We’d better get going.” Ryath slowly turned to look back
out at the smoking shipwreck in the distance. There was a flash as something gave out and
more debris was thrown into the air.
“Ryath? Come on, man, let's go. I’ve got your payment from Glann on
board.” The rumble of the second explosion
reached his ears and Ryath sighed.
“Tell him he can keep it.”
“What?”
“Tell him he can take his money. I don’t want it. I don’t want it,
do you hear?” His voice had raised. Ryath tore
the helmet from his head and threw it into the bushes. Next off came his wristcomp, his
utility belt, his chestplate, his grieves. Every piece of equipment he had used on the
mission came off until he was left in simple combat fatigues and boots. He unslung his
rifle and checked the charge.
“Go,” he said to the pilot.
“Go?” Kaile was amazed. “I can’t leave you here! The place is
swarming! You’ve got to come! Where will you go?”
“There’s a settlement eighty clicks north. I’ll get transport
there.”
“You’ll die out there!” Ryath turned to Kaile, his blue
eyes flashing, his smile almost wicked.
“Then I’ll die by my own
rules.” With a leap he was gone, directly
towards the advancing Blackwing lines. Kaile stepped forward to shout after him but he
knew better than to argue with Ryath Centaur. He watched as Ryath vanished into the night
with no equipment but his rifle. He shook his head, tried to figure
out how he would explain this to Glann, and headed back to his ship. Ryath leaped up and over the log,
taking the soldiers by surprise. Three shots, three bodies, all before he had landed on
the ground. Target, left, two-ninety, tracking
right. There was no equipment to enhance
his abilities or aid his performance. Just him and the rifle and the darkness. He fired, striking the target in
the thigh, an intended shot. The target fell screaming, and Ryath allowed himself to be
seen heading north-east. The injured man shouted out his location and Ryath’s
direction. Tack north-east, two minutes. Tack
north-west three minutes. Keep them guessing. Keep them searching. He always kept on the move, his
breath sharp and ragged, timed with each footfall, each leap, each roll. Target, ahead, oh-ten. He dived forward as two other
Blackwings fired as he approached, but their shots went wild with the shock of his sudden
appearance. Ryath shot the first one in the head and just leapt up at the second, whose
scream was cut off as he planted his rifle butt into his throat. Before the body had hit
the ground he was off like a blur in the night. Keep moving. Keep moving. This is what
you are, boy! Ryath Centaur continued on, pushing
his way through the lines of his enemy, never stopping, never slowing, never allowing
quarter or expecting any mercy. And he wasn’t doing it for the
Empire. He wasn’t doing it for Glann. He wasn’t doing it for money. He was doing it for himself. Mission of Mercenaries 1999 short story by Jonathan Hicks Six years after Episode IV - A New Hope Histories - Written by Jonathan Hicks, this Ryath Centaur
story shows the ex-Imperial mercenary taking on a mission for Glann Cipple, and using less than moral ways to
accomplish that. The first Centaur story
written by Jonathan Hicks, this very much picks up on the way that Centaur operated in the
RPG scenarios of the late 80's - mid 90's. Cast of Characters Ryath Centaur Kaile Mirrener Professor Torl Glann Cipple |