The Mission

Trihan

Anthony stood on the deck of his hover ship, scanning the horizon. He shivered nervously.

"See anything?" came a voice from behind him. He turned round to see the smiling face of Gillian, the pilot.

"Nothing yet, Gill," Anthony said with a sigh. "They're quiet tonight."

It was unusual for them not to be raiding on a night like this. He thanked the stars that they weren't, though; it was going to be hard enough to complete the mission without them.

Hopefully this would be the last one. Not that he didn't enjoy them - he did, when it came down to it - but he wasn't the carefree, happy-go-lucky young man he once was and the years were starting to creep up on him. He had responsibilities now, a family.

He was broken out of his reverie at the sound of panicked voices from the observation deck above.

"Aw hell, why did they have to come now?" Anthony sighed, drawing his blaster and sprinting up to join his crew.

AtelierGames

The hover ship became alive with movement. Anthony barked out his orders.

“I want all cadets readying plasma canisters on level one! Engineers stand by to seal doors! Everyone else on the left wing!”

Once everybody had scuttled off to fill their orders, Anthony was left with a dozen space-veterans, hardened with age, (and the knowledge it brings), yet still full of vigor; and ready with their blasters at the drop of a hat.

Anthony ordered them to be silent. The dark abyss outside didn’t stir; the stars lost their luminosity; and everybody aboard the hover ship was robbed off their breath. They couldn’t see them, but they could feel the terror they carried in their wake.

Without warning, the ship was rocked violently from side to side, as if some giant hand was toying with them. A series of deep, echoing rumbles followed, resounding throughout the empty corridors of the hover ship. Anthony and his men grabbed desperately at the metal handrails to avoid being thrown about.

“The tricksters!” he cried. “They’re breaking through on the right wing! Engineers seal the doors on the starboard side, and we can hold them from there. Follow me, my loyal space dogs!”

Andorxor

After taking a look at the horizon he adds “And close your helmets. There is dust storm coming” The men around him pull the visors of their helmets down and a small green light show that the switched to intern life support.

Just a moment later a thick cloud of dust envelops the ship. This force of nature does makes no difference between attackers and defenders. Only between prepared and unprepared and whoever is unprepared risk painful death when his lungs fill with the small particles.

A shadowy figure without helmet, but with a simple breathing mask before his face, draws nearer to Anthony and he tries to fire his blaster, but the fine dust got through the isolation and short-circuited the weapon. The hightech weapons are now as useful as a paperweights. That is the reason the attackers always come with the storms.

[Cameron]

Figuring it already broken, Anthony made the quick decision to put his blaster to use anyway. With a violent lunge he smashed the blaster into the raiders breathing mask, causing it to explode filling the raiders lungs with fine dust and smoke.

Though the raider was unconscious and most likely dying, Anthony grabbed his archaic rifle and shot him point blank. With his many missions facing them, he knew they were resilient, and useless for interrogation.

It had been a long time since Anthony had seen, let alone used, a non laser rifle, and the recoil shook him violently. At least the raiders had thought ahead to cover it in dirty rags to prevent the storm dust from getting in.

It took Anthony little time to recover from the shock of death; it had ironically become a part of life captaining these missions. Since the war raiders had formed tribes in the desert, each with their own badge and flag, identifying them as a part of a larger group.

Although not at first recognizing this particular raiders design, upon wiping away blood, Anthony found himself full of dismay. As a sea of memory washed over him, he wished he had retired one mission early.

Phemar

The sound of echoing footsteps came from around the corridor, and Anthony's raider instincts kicked in immediately. He steadied his weapon and readied himself to fire upon whomever (or whatever) appeared from around the corner. He braced himself and hoped to whatever god he believed in that the ancient shells in his firearm would fire one last time.

The footsteps grew louder and he noticed something odd about them - They weren't quite in time. Whoever was coming toward him must be injured, and limping pretty badly. Quite soon the unknown perpetrator would be upon him. He braced himself and was taken aback when a familiar face appeared across the passageway.

"Gill! Gillian!" He cried, "You're safe - and relatively healthy it seems. Compared to this guy at least." He waved his gun toward the dead intruder lying on the ground.

Gillian's leg was covered in blood and she was limping quite badly.

"Ant..." Gillian started, "There's something I have to tell you. I don't know how to start, but-"

Anthony cut her short by holding up his hand. Her feelings could wait - It had just dawned on him that they weren't as alone he'd originally thought.

Ultra Magnus

“Don’t move,” he whispered, as he watched Gillian’s eyes swivel slowly, sweeping side to side in a bid to observe as much of the area as her helmet would allow without turning her head, “I’ll get us out of this.”

“With that old thing?” scoffed the pilot, glancing at the laughably antiquated firearm that lay covered in rags on the deck beside them, “Fat chance! Our best bet is a four-two-three-seven.”

“I’m not sure, Gill. That’s one pretty little paper-cut you got going on there.”

“Don’t give me that, old man,” Gillian smirked, “I’ve flown Deckers through Swarms with three wings down. I can surely handle a little situation like this. Now call in the order, Captain.”

“Cap…?”

“As of about three minutes ago, yes. Remind me to buy you a drink when we get home. But right now, call the damn order.”

Anthony slowly reached up to the switch on the side of his helmet. “Bridge? Is anybody there? This is... This is the Captain. I’m calling a four-two-three-seven in area G.”

“Roger.” crackled a reply through his earpiece.

“See you on the other side.” the pilot smiled to her Captain, as the lights around them flickered into darkness.

monkey_05_06

Shutting down the power grid for that side of the ship was a risky move. Risky, though right; it would cripple the raider forces. He only hoped it would be enough. The raiders were more primitive, from their mechanical weaponry right down to the the tattered rags they wore as clothing. He now knew from the body laying behind him exactly what tribe of raiders these were. It had been years ago; he'd tried to erase it from his memory. Flashbacks of his childhood stung in the back of his mind.

These raiders were the reason Anthony was an orphan.

"What is it?" Gillian asked, seeing Anthony's pause through her night vision visor.

"Nothing," Anthony responded soberly as he continued on. This was no time to be letting those old emotions come creeping back in. He had a duty to his men, to his own family.

Anthony cleared his mind; he had to work quickly. With the grid shut down there was a limited air supply, and the darkness wouldn't prevent the raiders from firing their weapons. He watched carefully, keeping an eye for the heat registers of his hidden foe. "Thank God for technology," he said quietly to himself.

Babar

Carefully he approached a curve in the corridor while signaling Gillian not to shoot. For a split second he saw a little flash of yellow through his visor- the raider’s heat signature. With all their talking, the raider up ahead probably knew they were there, and while he couldn’t see them, he was probably waiting for their approach. Anthony was at his wits end- He had a responsibility to his men and to his family. How to resolve this situation so no one got hurt? There was only one way to go.

“Oy! Ma’hm ami home!” shouted Anthony as he stepped forward.

There was a grunt of surprise from the raider in front, a look of shock on Gillian’s face. Again signaling Gillian not to shoot, he spoke to the raider in their tribal dialect.

“[What news of the Nanthanii family?]”, asked Anthony.

The raider replied unsurely “[Nanthanii? …there is only the woman and her son. They are well. I do not think either is on this raid]”

Anthony breathed a sigh of relief. Seeing the puzzled look on both the raider and Gillian’s faces, he realised this probably wasn’t the best time for catching up on family news.

tzachs

A glimpse of understanding suddenly appeared on the face of the raider: “[Are you the one we call Renhemii?]”.

Anthony replied “[I was the one you speak of, but not anymore, I am not one of you now.]”.

“Anthony”, Gillian spoke from behind him, still looking utterly shocked, “I really have to tell you something…”

“Now is not the time, Gillian”, Anthony sighed, “look, I know how you feel about me, but there are things I haven’t told you, things I haven’t told anyone. You see, I was one of them once, I was a raider. They killed my parents when I was at a very young age; they kidnapped me from my people and made me one of them. I have a family there, a wife, and a son.”

The raider continued “[Renhemii, you can’t run from us. A raider will always be a raider. We are not here by accident]”.

“It’s not that”, Gillian continued, apparently clueless as for what the raider was saying, “I know that you were a raider, and I know why they are really here.” Anthony looked at her in disbelief as she continued, “You know that our mission is to secure the war criminals trials in the Nerbilan borders, and while that’s true, you don’t know that you are one of them. Our real mission is to bring you to justice, and the raiders won’t let that happen.”

Anthony felt his guts turning inside out and suddenly fell to the floor. The raider, seeing him fall, started running towards their direction, while shouting for backup.

monkey_05_06

"What the hell do you mean?" he shouted at her, "You're bringing me to justice? Me, whom you've fought beside for all these years?""

"Anthony," Gillian started.

The advancing raider cut her short. Grimacing with each step, she worked her way up to the corner. She could see the other raiders coming to aide the first. They were vastly outnumbered, and she silently prayed to herself the cover of darkness would be enough.

Anthony rose to his feet behind her.

"How...?"

"Anthony, I'm sorry."

He could hear the sympathy in her voice, but none of that mattered now. He had been a good soldier. His past life had been put behind him, yet those who once commended his performances now sought to bring them to an end. No, none of it mattered now. As the blood pulsed through his veins Anthony thought back on his childhood; captive, but still raised as one of the raiders' own. The raiders may have been a foul race, but they still had their morals.

"Va'at atti yanne," Anthony said aloud as he felt his finger close around the trigger. As Gillian's body sank to the floor Anthony smirked savagely. He was finally going home.