Spring RTS Engine

I'm doing a lot 'returns' lately, aren't I?

Anyhoo.

Prologue

Joanna Killgore held in her hands one of the greatest discoveries of man. It was a weapon, yes ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ the Tellis Prima research station was looking into new weapons to fight the civil war with.

Not that the TCA called it a civil war, but a great many worlds had turned against them and their armies had flocked under the flag of the NCLF. It was possibly the biggest crisis for the Terran Colonial Authority, but they├óÔé¼Ôäód weather it out. The TCA had the huge fleets of the Terran Fleet Command and the great armies of the TLA. And it also had the Inquisition.

The pistol she held was circular, with a white casing. It had two sections ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ one the white outer casing and the other being the weapon├óÔé¼Ôäós innards, complete with grip and trigger. The casing was attached to the inner section by pivots on each side. When fired, the casing would spin, and using some rather complex stuff (involving gravity manipulation) greatly reduced the recoil. The upshot of this complex (and rather expensive) recoil dampener was that you didn├óÔé¼Ôäót get thrown into a wall when the weapon was fired.

But the recoil dampener wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót the most important and pivotal part of the pistol. The important part was the bit that Killgore had worked on. And that was ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£
├óÔé¼┼ôJo? Hey, Jo?├óÔé¼┬Ø

Killgore├óÔé¼Ôäós reverie was broken by a man called her name rather loudly. She put the gun down and walked across the room to the door. The room was a test firing range with white walls, ceilings and floors. All was white and clean and sterile. It was a lab after all. Light strips ran across the walls to provide lighting. Joanna Killgore, being fair-skinned, blonde and wearing a white lab coat, blended into her surrounding rather easily. The firing range had only one door which exited into a corridor. Killgore stuck her head out of it to see a fellow lab-coat scientist, male, with short brown hair, was running towards her.

├óÔé¼┼ôJo!├óÔé¼┬Ø He called
├óÔé¼┼ôHello Tom├óÔé¼┬Ø She replied
Killgore leaned back to allow Tom to skid to a halt at the door.
├óÔé¼┼ôThe Commander├óÔé¼Ôäós looking for you├óÔé¼┬Ø He said, out of breath. He looked around, spotting the white pistol on the table ├óÔé¼┼ôYou got it working now?├óÔé¼┬Ø He asked.

Killgore turned to see what he was looking at. ├óÔé¼┼ôCome and see├óÔé¼┬Ø She replied, with a smile.
She walked back into the firing range, donned a pair of safety glasses and ear protectors, tossed a pair to Tom, who├óÔé¼Ôäód walked in to watch the spectacle.

She picked up the weapon and raised it against a 15 meter away target in a two handed stance. Taking careful aim, she squeezed the trigger.
Immediately a bolt of blue light shot forth from the nozzle-like barrel of the pistol. It struck the middle of the target board, shaped like the outline of a human and annihilated it, blasting it apart. Shards flew everywhere and the beam continued, gouging a deep crater in the wall behind. Lightning shot from the point of impact, scorching the nearby walls.
Killgore released the trigger and the outer casing of the pistol spun to reduce the recoil. Tom stood there in awe
├óÔé¼┼ôWow!├óÔé¼┬Ø Was all he could say

Then the lights blew out

Chapter One

The Vengeance was in high-orbit of the planet Sarrith Beta. Sarrith Beta, as it├óÔé¼Ôäós name implied, was the second habitable planet in the Sarrith system. Far from it├óÔé¼Ôäós sun, the planet was cold. Very cold. Most of the continents were covered in snow and ice, with the exceptions of a few equatorial greenland areas.

The Vengeance was a cruiser-class ship from the TFC. It was long with three main sections. The rear housed the engines, and the front had the bridge, as well as the manoeuvre and brake engines. The middle housed it├óÔé¼Ôäós broadside weapons, and connected the rear and bridge sections.
The ship was painted dark green to help it blend in with the backdrop of space, throwing it into sharp contrast with the bight white of Sarrith Beta├óÔé¼Ôäós surface. It was quite clearly a military vessel. It was long, tall and thin, with a fairly circular cross-section. On it├óÔé¼Ôäós underside lay a transport and cargo bay, it├óÔé¼Ôäós sliding doors closed for now. Mounted on the sides were a pair of turrets bearing heavy-duty laser weapons and on the top of the rear section squatted a turreted torpedo launcher.

Captain Lannings sat at ease in his chair, sipping a glass of water. His crew where also sitting idly in their seats now that the ship wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót actually doing anything. The two pilots were chatting quietly to each other. The only person really doing anything was the Sensor Officer, who was keeping an eye on the radar whilst talking the Gunnery Officers about the finer points of radar targeting.

He looked at the snowy-white planet below him. From here it looked tranquil and serene, a peaceful planet on which to live. It didn├óÔé¼Ôäót really have much in the way of population, having only been colonised fairly recently. If it weren├óÔé¼Ôäót for the civil war raging on down below it might actually be a nice place to visit. A shame, really.
His First XO, Roland, walked up behind his chair. Lannings heard him coming by the way his boots clanged against the metal floor ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ standard military TFC boots had rubber soles. Roland├óÔé¼Ôäós were metal.
Roland leant forwards to whisper into his ear.

├óÔé¼┼ôThe Investigator wants to see you├óÔé¼┬Ø Roland whispered
├óÔé¼┼ôTell him I├óÔé¼Ôäóll be there in a moment├óÔé¼┬Ø Lannings replied quietly
Roland nodded and walked off. Clang, clang, clang. Lannings sighed, drained his glass, set it on his seat├óÔé¼Ôäós armrest and eased out of the chair. The crew stopped talking immediately.

├óÔé¼┼ôAt ease├óÔé¼┬Ø Lannings said waving away their attentions with his hand.
They went back to what they were doing previously. Lannings walked out of the bridge, through the door and into the corridor towards the lift.
Lannings was an old man. He had a bald scalp with some greying hair around the ears, in a sort of half-ring across his head. He was tall, gaunt and lean. He wore numerous layers, mainly to stave off the cold ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ a ship of the Vengeance├óÔé¼Ôäós size couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót fit strong enough heaters to prop the temperature to more than 13 degrees centigrade. He wore a brown tunic with the TFC emblem on it├óÔé¼Ôäós chest, black felt trousers, a dark red cloak, also felt, with a black trim, and metal shoulder guards, again bearing the TFC emblem. In a side pocket was a smaller version of the TLA slug-pistol. He also carried a well-hidden shock-stick.

Lannings entered the lift and rode it down to the lowest level of the ship. Everything was a bit lighter here, this far from the ship├óÔé¼Ôäós gravity drive, who├óÔé¼Ôäós effect lessened the further from the machine itself. He was approaching the loading dock where a number of Lightnings lay in wait. The dock also contained a Stormwind Gunship, and that was not his. He opened a door. It didn├óÔé¼Ôäót lead into the dock, rather into a small waiting room.

Upon his entrance, a man clad in dark blue cloak, with a black felt top and trousers. His shoulders, arms, knees and lower legs had armour plates sewn into their fabric. The armour bore an emblem known the galaxy-wide: the double II├óÔé¼Ôäós of the Inquisition.

The others in the room were mostly male: three men and a woman. Two of the men were TFC pilots, dressed in the dark red of the Fleet, but with shoulder pads with the Inquisitorial emblem. One had combed, black hair and was fairly tall, the other was short with tangled brown hair. The other man was dressed in the same livery as the Inquisitorial Investigator, but without the cloak or armour plates. He had shoulder length blonde hair and was carrying a tri-barrel shotgun that looked well-used. The woman had long, untidy brown hair and wore the camouflaged armour of the TLA Sniper Division, minus the helmet and with addition of Inquisitorial shoulder-pads. As would be expected, she was carrying a standard-pattern sharpshooter rifle. The Investigator extended his hand. Lannings took it.

├óÔé¼┼ôCaptain├óÔé¼┬Ø He said with a nod
├óÔé¼┼ôInvestigator.├óÔé¼┬Ø Lannings replied
├óÔé¼┼ôI trust we have not caused too much trouble to you├óÔé¼┬Ø
It was a formality, of course.
├óÔé¼┼ôNot at all. We├óÔé¼Ôäóll wait for you here.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôGeo-synchronous orbit?├óÔé¼┬Ø The Investigator asked.
Lannings nodded.
├óÔé¼┼ôWe├óÔé¼Ôäóll load our Stormwind into one of the Lightnings├óÔé¼┬Ø The Investigator continued
├óÔé¼┼ôThat won├óÔé¼Ôäót be a problem. Will need pilots for the Lightning?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôNo. We have our own├óÔé¼┬Ø He gestured to the men in the dark-red uniforms ├óÔé¼┼ôThey├óÔé¼Ôäóre qualified pilots from the TFC├óÔé¼Ôäós Fighter Cadre.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôHello├óÔé¼┬Ø Lannings said, offering his hand to the tall, black haired one. The pilot took it shook it formally

├óÔé¼┼ôCraig Sanderson.├óÔé¼┬Ø He said. ├óÔé¼┼ôThis is Alex Jones├óÔé¼┬Ø He continued, indicating the second pilot. Lannings shook his hand as well. The man accompanied the handshake with a slight smile.
At least one of them are actually human. Lannings thought grimly.
The Investigator moved forwards. ├óÔé¼┼ôThis is Interrogator Sam Anders├óÔé¼┬Ø he gestured towards the man with the shotgun. Lannings offered his hand. Int. Anders shook his head and gestured with the shotgun, which required two hands to hold. Lannings understood.
├óÔé¼┼ôAnd this is Alison Galvern.├óÔé¼┬Ø The Investigator continued, gesturing towards the TLA sniper, who nodded to Lannings. He returned the nod.

├óÔé¼┼ôCaptain Horatio Lannings├óÔé¼┬Ø Lannings said
The Investigator nodded ├óÔé¼┼ôYes, I know who you are. I├óÔé¼Ôäóm Inquisitorial Investigator Galliger Adams├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôYes, I know who you are├óÔé¼┬Ø Lannings replied with the same formal smile and nod. The Investigator took it in his stride. At the back, the brown-haired pilot (Jones) smiled slightly and the Sniper raised her eyebrows.

├óÔé¼┼ôWhen can we depart?├óÔé¼┬Ø The Investigator continued
├óÔé¼┼ôWhenever you like.├óÔé¼┬Ø Lannings didn├óÔé¼Ôäót add the ├óÔé¼┼ôThe sooner the better├óÔé¼┬Ø to it.
├óÔé¼┼ôThen we├óÔé¼Ôäóll be leaving in about three days├óÔé¼┬Ø the Investigator said without hesitation.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat about the Gunship?├óÔé¼┬Ø Lannings asked
├óÔé¼┼ôHave the Stormwind moved into one of the Lightnings├óÔé¼┬Ø the Investigator snapped
So much for polite requests
├óÔé¼┼ôWith all due speed├óÔé¼┬Ø Lannings replied with a cold smile. He was about to leave, but the Investigator stopped him with a hand on his shoulder ├óÔé¼┼ôYes?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWe also need a shuttlepod. As soon as possible├óÔé¼┬Ø

Clang, clang, clang. Lannings met Roland coming down the gangway.
├óÔé¼┼ôYou didn├óÔé¼Ôäót use the lift?├óÔé¼┬Ø Lannings asked
├óÔé¼┼ôNah.├óÔé¼┬Ø Roland replied ├óÔé¼┼ôYour legs├óÔé¼Ôäóll rot if you never use them├óÔé¼┬Ø
Lannings didn├óÔé¼Ôäót smile ├óÔé¼┼ôThis Investigator wants his Stormwind moved into one of the Lightnings├óÔé¼┬Ø
Roland raised his eyebrows.
├óÔé¼┼ôHe then wants to requisition that Lightning and use it to travel to Sarrith Beta├óÔé¼Ôäós surface. That├óÔé¼Ôäós in a days time. For now, he just wants one of our shuttlepods├óÔé¼┬Ø
Roland raised his eyebrows even higher ├óÔé¼┼ôThey don├óÔé¼Ôäót ask for much do they?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThey never do├óÔé¼┬Ø Lannings replied

├óÔé¼┼ôWell, Jones, Sanderson, do you think you can pilot a Lightning?├óÔé¼┬Ø Investigator Adams asked the two pilots.
├óÔé¼┼ôBetween us, yes.├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson stated confidently.

├óÔé¼┼ôWhat about the shuttlepod?├óÔé¼┬Ø Roland asked
├óÔé¼┼ôWe├óÔé¼Ôäóve plenty to spare.├óÔé¼┬Ø Lannings said offhand ├óÔé¼┼ôPick one├óÔé¼┬Ø
Roland nodded and walked off. Clang, clang, clang. Lannings wished he├óÔé¼Ôäód stop using metal soles
Lannings walked back to the waiting room. ├óÔé¼┼ôThe shuttlepod will be ready in a few hours├óÔé¼┬Ø
The Investigator nodded and looked to the Sniper and the two Pilots ├óÔé¼┼ôReady?├óÔé¼┬Ø
They nodded.

The shuttlepod was a fairly new model, of the standard configuration ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ A large cabin (one big room plus an airlock on the rear) with pivot-mounted engines on the side. It could carry six, pilots included. Today, it would be carrying three plus a few boxes of equipment.
The airlock cycled and opened and Jones, Sanderson and Galvern entered. The two pilots still wore their red uniforms, but Galvern wore full winter-forest camouflage and looked more like a walking bush than anything else.

She wore a very large cloak covered in netting webs that carried large quantities of sticks and leaves and such. She also carried a snow-net to simulate snow-fall. Her rifle had similar webbing and a snow-net of it├óÔé¼Ôäós own. A pair of heat-viewing goggles were strapped over her eyes.
She slipped into a seat and strapped in. In the boxes were her disassembled rifle, some pistols of various types, flares, grenades, range-finders, scanners, jammers, perimeter cameras, all sorts of monitoring and combat equipment. Another box contained a load of vacuum-sealed food. A grav-skiff was locked into place to transport all the equipment. This was to be a stake-out.

Jones and Sanderson slid into the front two seats, with Jones taking copilot. The two donned helmets with in built radios and a Heads-Up Display. Jones took hold of his helmet├óÔé¼Ôäós microphone
├óÔé¼┼ôShuttlepod 31 requesting launch from pad 9├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôDock Command, request accepted. Lowering pad 9 to Launch├óÔé¼┬Ø
The pad, complete with Shuttlepod, slowly moved down into an airlock. Having depressurised, it continued down into the Launch section, which was open to the void, though aimed at the planet below.
├óÔé¼┼ôShuttlepod 31, launching├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôDock Command, launch authorised. Fire when ready├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jones checked his straps and brought up the pre-flight checklist.
├óÔé¼┼ôDocking clamps disengaged...├óÔé¼┬Ø
Sanderson flicked a few switches. ├óÔé¼┼ôCheck├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jones ticked it off ├óÔé¼┼ôFuel lines disconnected├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôCheck├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson said, bringing up a 3d view of the ship

The process went on for a few minutes before Jones closed down the checklist. Sanderson fiddled with some controls and put his hand on the accelerator ├óÔé¼┼ôLaunch ready├óÔé¼┬Ø

├óÔé¼┼ôGo for it├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones said, leaning forwards, rummaging for something in his seat├óÔé¼Ôäós ├óÔé¼╦£glove├óÔé¼Ôäó compartment. Sanderson pushed the accelerator forward and the shuttlepod shot forth out of the Vengeance├óÔé¼Ôäós Launch into space.

Jones found what he was looking for, a brought out a little box of pills. They were for space and entry sickness ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ punching through atmospheres caused a lot of turbulence and tended to make people feel ill. The little box went round the cabin, with all three taking one. Sanderson aimed the nose of the ship down, fired the brake engines to stop any more forwards momentum and accelerated full, plunging into the white clouds and atmosphere of Sarrith Beta.

==================================
PRODUCTION NOTES
Unfortunately, school returns in about a week so I'll be a bit busy. Between this and Epic Legions there may be a bit of slowdown on the update front. Fortunately, as I have been writing this for some time, I do have a bit written already, so I should be able to make it.

Enjoy!

Please finish it this time.

Frickin Sweet!

I plan to

Today's update:

Their target destination was a raised area of woodland aside├óÔé¼Ôäós a grand mansion on the outskirts of one of the larger cities. The mansion sat proud at a point of the mountain that overlooked the glittering city below. Higher up the snowy peak was the large area of woodland. The shuttlepod set down on a fairly flat precipice jutting out of the rock. The mansion was on the other side of the mountain├óÔé¼Ôäós peak, which conveniently blocked it├óÔé¼Ôäós view of the landing zone. Snow whirled everywhere with the wind.
The shuttlepod landed in a hiss of steam as the landing jets melted and then evaporated the snow layer. It sank a few feet into the snow with it├óÔé¼Ôäós weight. The rear door plopped down and Galvern walked out, dragging a grav-skiff. The skiff hovered a foot or so about the ground. She dragged it clear of the rear door and rushed back inside to start loading the crates in the back of the skiff. Jones also walked out, carrying one the crates and with a cigarette clenched between his teeth. Tossing it into the back of the skiff, he leaned against the shuttlepod and lit the cigar. Galvern heaved the last crate into the back and sighed.
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóll need some help with this equipment├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern said, catching Jones├óÔé¼Ôäós eye
Jones raised an eyebrow. ├óÔé¼┼ôSanders, I - ├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI heard├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson interrupted, his voice cracked slightly by the intercom ├óÔé¼┼ôI can wait├óÔé¼┬Ø
Galvern sat in the skiff├óÔé¼Ôäós only seat.
├óÔé¼┼ôRight├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones hopped onto the side of the skiff. The skiff was designed for one person only, so he couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót sit down.
├óÔé¼┼ôYou really should stop smoking you know├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern warned
├óÔé¼┼ôOne answer: lung implants├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones replied, taking a puff
├óÔé¼┼ôYeah, but still...├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôSee you, Sanders├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones said into the intercom
├óÔé¼┼ôEnjoy your date├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson replied, deadpan.
Galvern caught Jones├óÔé¼Ôäós expression and cocked an eyebrow
├óÔé¼┼ôI don├óÔé¼Ôäót know how that bastard does it,├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones said, mostly to himself ├óÔé¼┼ôBut a few well-placed words from him can suck all the wind from your sails.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI can still hear you, you know├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson said over the radio. Jones hurriedly removed the ear stud. Galvern was still looking at him rather expectantly.
├óÔé¼┼ôJust drive├óÔé¼┬Ø

Sanderson shut down the flight computer, unstrapped himself and left the cabin out the back, snatching a flask of caffeine as he did so. Shivering he changed his mind and grabbed a thick fur jacket off it├óÔé¼Ôäós hanger, and decided to leave his helmet on. He also pulled a deckchair out of it├óÔé¼Ôäós slot. They might be a bit odd in snowy weather, but they were useful things to have. Feeling a bit warmer, he walked out, his feet crunching into the snow. He unfolded the chair, sat down, crossed his legs, poured some of the caffeine into a cup and waited.

Jones was being pelted with snow. It was a bumpy ride sitting shotgun on the side of a speeding grav-skiff going uphill in both a wood and a blizzard. It was also very cold. And rather bumpy too. By floating over the ground you├óÔé¼Ôäód have thought grav-skiffs would have the best suspension in the galaxy. And they did. The problem was that they hovered a set level above the ground (a limiting device existed in the engine cowlings). So when going at speed at speed over uneven ground, the skiff would bob up and down very quickly and anyone sitting shotgun would very probably be thrown off if they didn├óÔé¼Ôäót hold on to the side rail. Jones├óÔé¼Ôäós knuckles were white with the effort.
├óÔé¼┼ôCan├óÔé¼Ôäót you slow it down a bit?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones shouted over the wind
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern shouted back
Thwack. Jones got caught across the chest by a low-hanging branch and flew backwards into the snow, along with a load of splinters. Galvern looked surprised and worried, and brought the skiff around to pick him up.
It skidded silently to a halt and Galvern hopped out. Jones was lying back on his elbows looking rather dazed. Galvern pulled him up and brushed the snow of his back.
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóm fine, I├óÔé¼Ôäóm fine├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones insisted, limping forwards. He got a few steps in before collapsing face first into the snow. Galvern gasped and rolled him over
├óÔé¼┼ôAlex? Alex!├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern shouted at him with genuine concern
Alex Jones opened his eyes, which had a mischievous glint in them. His face split into a grin.
├óÔé¼┼ôAlex!├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern repeated in equally genuine annoyance. Jones burst out laughing and Galvern through a snowball at him. She got up and kicked him in the side ├óÔé¼┼ôGet up, we├óÔé¼Ôäóve work to do├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jones, still laughing, rolled over onto his feet. ├óÔé¼┼ôFine├óÔé¼┬Ø he said ├óÔé¼┼ôBut this time, I├óÔé¼Ôäóm driving├óÔé¼┬Ø

***

Anders was leaning against the far wall. Adams, also standing, was reading information off a console
├óÔé¼┼ôSo who├óÔé¼Ôäós the target?├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders asked.
├óÔé¼┼ôA woman named Elizabeth Montoya.├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams began. ├óÔé¼┼ôClaims to be a Lady, but there├óÔé¼Ôäós no record of this anywhere in TLLA records. Of House Montoya, obviously.├óÔé¼┬Ø
The TLLA was the Terran Local Law Authority. At least one TLLA headquarters existed on every major city. They dealt with petty crimes like robbery and murder. The Inquisition hunted out Traitors. Contrary to popular belief, it was actually the TLLA who had a file for everyone (or nearly everyone) in the TCA. The Inquisition simply used their mainframes as a resource. It had taken 15 seconds for the console Adams was operating to find Lady Elizabeth Marseilles Montoya of Planet Sarrith Beta, with a complete bio, including social status (which mentioned nothing of her being a Lady) and a full list of planets she had visited, which contained only one entry: Sarrith Beta.
├óÔé¼┼ôA combination of our insider, informants and rumours have indicated that this Montoya is letting NCLF troops use her mansion as a base from which to attack the nearby city of Plasgow, which is under the martial law of the TLA. Witnesses say that several trains and cargo freighters landing at the building transporting cargo and shipments and so forth├óÔé¼┬Ø
Anders nodded ├óÔé¼┼ôWhen do we make the call?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Adams checked his watch ├óÔé¼┼ôWait about... 12 hours before calling. Let Galvern scope the place out├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôOkay├óÔé¼┬Ø

***

Sanderson had dragged out a weapons crate and put his feet up on it to rest. He was used to Jones and Galvern running off together. They usually left him to mind the ship. He guessed that they didn├óÔé¼Ôäót know he tended to simply sleep through it, or they might have stayed, to keep an eye on the ship (an idea that didn├óÔé¼Ôäót last particularly long). Which, to be fair, would be a bit worse ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ no peace and quiet. That and they only had two deck chairs and shuttlepods were generally camped as hell, though this one wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót so bad. In a sudden spark of curiosity, Sanderson lifted his feet and opened the crate. He pulled out an elegantly crafted pistol. Judging from the cleverly concealed power pack on the side, it was a plasma weapon. Sanderson weighed the weapon in his hand. A good balance and centre of gravity. He looked down the sights and pulled off a shot, blasting a young sapling in half and sending numerous native animals scurrying away.
He got up and walked over to the edge of the outcropping. The mountain went down quite a way, and the forest continued with it. It was part of a mountain chain ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ to Sanderson├óÔé¼Ôäós left and right it continued on until their outlines blurred out of existence, hidden by fog. Ahead lay a great expanse of snow, crossed by a pair of frozen rivers. Five blinking black dots indicated the presence of cities. This was a nice view. Sanderson dragged the deckchair around and got out his drawing pad.

***

The grav-skiff skidded to a halt at another overhang. Galvern jumped off the side and looked about her. Through a gap in the trees she could see the mansion quite clearly. The overhang was clear of trees.
├óÔé¼┼ôHere will do├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jones nodded and deactivated the skiff. It fell straight down into the snow with an ungraceful plop. He opened the rear hatch and began dragging the boxes out. Galvern took out a pair of binoculars and sweeped them over the building.
├óÔé¼┼ôNo external guards... Quite a few cars outside. Two heavy cargo freighters on the pad. Ooh, this place has a monorail!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôReally?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones asked without interest, coming up beside her, dragging the box he knew to contain her rifle.
├óÔé¼┼ôHave a look!├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern said, tossing him the binoculars.
She hadn├óÔé¼Ôäót realised he had his hands full, and the binoculars hit him on the side of the head
├óÔé¼┼ôOw!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôOh, sorry├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThat├óÔé¼Ôäós twice you├óÔé¼Ôäóve nearly killed me now├óÔé¼┬Ø He mumbled
├óÔé¼┼ôSorry!├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jones grunted
├óÔé¼┼ôHang on,├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern said thoughtfully, ├óÔé¼┼ôI can nearly kill you by throwing binoculars at you?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jones chuckled ├óÔé¼┼ôNo├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôGood├óÔé¼┬Ø
She threw the binoculars at him again

Once that had quietened down a bit, they got to work unpacking the boxes. First thing out where the weapons and the three auto-turrets. Two turrets went facing the mountain. Another lay in it├óÔé¼Ôäós parts, yet to be put together. Galvern was confident she could spot anyone coming up the mountain, but she couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót watch her back at the same time. The third would watch the mountainside at night whilst she slept. She put the rifle together in about 10 seconds. Jones had taken out a light Slugger and set down close to hand. He was now going through another box.
The jammers went around the perimeter to ward of radars and other scanners. The sensors went in the middle of the perimeter, and were set to the correct frequency to stop the jammers blinding them. Galvern put her tent up in record time and dragged the crates of food and water into that.
Jones pulled out a see-through bag containing a lot of cylindrical objects.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat do you want to do with these mines?├óÔé¼┬Ø He asked
├óÔé¼┼ôKeep them in the box, can├óÔé¼Ôäót really use them├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern replied, straightening one of the tent poles. Jones shrugged and set them back down in their box.

The two back-pedalled slightly to admire their handiwork. Jones rubbed his hands together
├óÔé¼┼ôWell, I├óÔé¼Ôäóm off├óÔé¼┬Ø He declared
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóm going├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhere?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThe shuttlepod of course!├óÔé¼┬Ø
Galvern looked a combination of disappointed and surprised ├óÔé¼┼ôYou├óÔé¼Ôäóre not going to stay?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôNo├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones said, firmly, as he got into the grav-skiff
├óÔé¼┼ôOh come on!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôAdams will bite my head off if I linger for ├óÔé¼╦£recreational purposes├óÔé¼Ôäó again. You know that├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jones turned the skiff on, causing it to shoot up a few feet into the air, snow falling off its underside. He turned back, waved, and sped off.
Galvern watched him depart ├óÔé¼┼ôGit.├óÔé¼┬Ø
She collected her rifle, pulled the hood of her camouflaged cloak over her head and nestled into the snow, pulling a bead of the mansion through a pair of tall, dark green-leafed trees.

***

Sanderson closed up his sketch pad when he heard the skiff approaching. That was rather fast. Hauling the deckchair along with him, he returned to the shuttlepod to see the grav-skiff slide up alongside. Jones hopped out.
├óÔé¼┼ôYou were quick├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson observed
├óÔé¼┼ôUh-huh, save it. Can you open the rear hatch so I can get this thing in?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Sanderson hit a button and hatch opened.
├óÔé¼┼ôThanks├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones hopped back in the skiff and drove it in. Sanderson also nipped in before shutting the hatch again. No point letting all the heat out. The grav-skiff landed on the floor with a dull thunk.
├óÔé¼┼ôHey, is that my jacket?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones asked suddenly

***

The shuttlepod re-entered the Vengeance. The door to the Loading Dock hissed open and Sanderson and Jones walked into Anders, who was leaning against the wall outside the waiting room.
├óÔé¼┼ôYou were quick├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders observed
├óÔé¼┼ôWe do have a job to do├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones replied
├óÔé¼┼ôNever stopped you two before├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWell... it has now!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôUh-huh├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders replied as he held the door to the waiting room open. The two pilots shuffled in. Jones plopped down and immediately began to attempt sleep, and Sanderson went back to his drawing.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhere├óÔé¼Ôäós Adams?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones asked
├óÔé¼┼ôHe├óÔé¼Ôäós talking to Captain Lannings,├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders replied, ├óÔé¼┼ôtrying to find quarters so that we have somewhere to sleep other than on leather flat seats├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôNowt wrong with cow-hide├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThat├óÔé¼Ôäós not cow├óÔé¼┬Ø

Anders walked out the waiting room. He walked along the grated floor, heading for the bridge elevator and opened it to meet Adams inside, on his way back to the waiting room.
├óÔé¼┼ôSuccess?├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders asked
Adams nodded ├óÔé¼┼ôFloor 9, guest rooms├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóll get Jones and Sanderson├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThey├óÔé¼Ôäóre back?├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams asked
├óÔé¼┼ôYes. I think you put the fear of god into him after the last time├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôGood.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat about our equipment?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWe can carry it up├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôOkay├óÔé¼┬Ø

That took some time. In a spare room Anders set up a comm net, interfacing with the Vengeance├óÔé¼Ôäós communication suite. Down on the surface of Sarrith Beta, Galvern was doing something similar, though on a much smaller scale. After a few hours of tinkering and calibrating the system finally did as it was meant to, and aboard the Vengeance, despite a distance of many miles, Anders finally got a small screen to display what was going through the scope of Galvern├óÔé¼Ôäós sniper rifle. Next to that was a small radio-esque set through which Galvern could talk to then and they to her. Another radio lay next to that. Their insider had laced the mansion with bugs and listening devices, and all the information gathered from that came through the second set. The room was small and lit by a single light strip on the ceiling, giving the room a blue hue and chasing the shadows into the corners. It was actually a utility room, with it├óÔé¼Ôäós original contents (mostly brooms) in a pile outside the door.
Adams sat before the flickering screen (which currently displayed nothing but snow because Galvern was still tinkering with the equipment at her end and simply dropped the rifle for the time being) waiting for it to come into focus. The sky in the picture had darkened somewhat ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ it was now nearly evening there. Behind the equipment was Anders, who was messing around with the wires, cogs and valves at the back to get a better picture. The radio├óÔé¼Ôäós worked however.
├óÔé¼┼ôGalvern?├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams asked into a small microbead
├óÔé¼┼ôHere├óÔé¼┬Ø The voice was covered in static, but it was perfectly understandable
├óÔé¼┼ôReady?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôYes├óÔé¼┬Ø
The view through the rifle scope jerked up suddenly as Galvern snatched it off the crate it had been lying on.

====================================
PRODUCTION NOTES:
I keep getting "Error: 500 - Internal Server Error" when I try to post these. Happened with the first one too.

Maybe the Spring Server needs more bashing with hammers to make it work better

Galvern drew the scope over the mansion. It was a large place, very old style architecture. She pulled on her microbead
├óÔé¼┼ôAdams, how long was House Montoya been here?├óÔé¼┬Ø She asked
The reply was a load of static. She bashed the bead against the side the rifle, knocking out some snow, and put in back in her ear.
├óÔé¼┼ô-irly new├óÔé¼┬Ø Said Adams, now legible
├óÔé¼┼ôPlease repeat?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI said they├óÔé¼Ôäóve been there for about a decade. They├óÔé¼Ôäóre fairly new here. That mansion is very old. According to the TLLA file on it, they got it off House Straken after some legal arguments. The file doesn├óÔé¼Ôäót go into it ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ judging from the way it was written, I don├óÔé¼Ôäót think the author thought anyone was going to read it ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ Anyway, this has sparked a bitter inter-house rivalry -├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôHold on,├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern interrupted ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat has this got to do with whether Miss Elizabeth Montoya is a bluie-lover?├óÔé¼┬Ø
The NCLF supporters most common sign of their allegiance was a blue piece of cloth tied around the arm, hence the nick-name
The reply was so quiet it was nigh inaudible
├óÔé¼┼ôAnders, if you├óÔé¼Ôäóre going to say something, say it near to the communicator if you don├óÔé¼Ôäót mind├óÔé¼┬Ø
There was a sound of rustling, and Anders voice came through the radio ├óÔé¼┼ôWe├óÔé¼Ôäóre chasing rumours Galvern. It wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót be the first time one House tried to discredit an opposing House with allegations of treason├óÔé¼┬Ø He sounded rather bitter.
Such petty differences tended to mess around with the Inquisition├óÔé¼Ôäós investigations. With rumours they couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót arrest anyone for slander, even though they new who had instigated them. Of course, some wily Investigators had got around this in equally law-abiding methods, such as accidentally dropping a bag full of pressure mines near the fuel tanks, or sabotaging flight vehicles and blaming the NCLF for it, to name a few. Adams, however, was too proud to anything of the sort. House differences were the TLLA├óÔé¼Ôäós problem anyway
├óÔé¼┼ôI thought Tara -├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôNothing yet. You know she can├óÔé¼Ôäót make any reports until nightfall.├óÔé¼┬Ø That was Anders still. He was almost remorseful about that. Galvern knew that something was going on between them, but they├óÔé¼Ôäód done a good job at hiding it (Tara was an expert at espionage after all). Galvern only knew it because Tara had confided in her. Poor girl.
Adams came back onto the coms ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat can you see Galvern?├óÔé¼┬Ø
She sighed and shuffled slightly, putting her eye up against the scope again.

├óÔé¼┼ôThree floors, very tall.├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern began. Aboard the Vengeance, recording equipment had fired into life. ├óÔé¼┼ôEstimate 9 meters in height, excluding towers. Flat roof area, I think we could comfortably land a few Lightnings on it if it comes to that├óÔé¼┬Ø
She brought the rifle down suddenly. A number of cars were pulling up into the mansion├óÔé¼Ôäós extensive drive.
├óÔé¼┼ôYou see that?├óÔé¼┬Ø She hissed
There was no reply. She took the bead out and batted it against the side of the rifle again. No snow came out. She looked at it oddly and put it back in her ear
├óÔé¼┼ô ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ n├óÔé¼Ôäót just nod Galliger├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders said, Galvern catching him mid-sentence
├óÔé¼┼ôSorry to interrupt, but there are a load of important looking people outside and want IDs├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern said bluntly
There was a pause
├óÔé¼┼ôOkay.├óÔé¼┬Ø It was Anders ├óÔé¼┼ôCan you get some bigger pictures for us?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôSure├óÔé¼┬Ø

She zoomed in on one of them, surrounded curiously by PDF troopers. Even she recognised him, with his cropped black hair drawn back. ├óÔé¼┼ôThat├óÔé¼Ôäós the Plasgow City Mayor!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôUh huh.├óÔé¼┬Ø Said Anders. ├óÔé¼┼ôHold on, can you go back a bit?├óÔé¼┬Ø
She did so
├óÔé¼┼ôThat├óÔé¼Ôäós the House Eyewin Crest...├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders muttered, looking at an embellished shield mounted on a car door
A woman passed through Galvern├óÔé¼Ôäós sights
├óÔé¼┼ôAnd that was Lady Talya from House Calvern├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams mused
├óÔé¼┼ôSir Abel of House Ludwig├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders said, spotting a dark-skinned, dark haired man in the background
├óÔé¼┼ôYou guys├óÔé¼Ôäó know these people by sight?├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern asked
├óÔé¼┼ôNo,├óÔé¼┬Ø came the reply, from Adams, ├óÔé¼┼ôWe├óÔé¼Ôäóre using an the TLLA database├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôOh├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWe are the Inquisition, you know...├óÔé¼┬Ø

├óÔé¼┼ôDraw a bead on that couple there├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders said suddenly. She drew the rifle up onto them. They were an elegant pair, both tall and both the very pale skin colour of the Sarrith Beta populace. ├óÔé¼┼ôLord and Lady Afradell├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders said before the TLLA database uplink chirped in confirmation
├óÔé¼┼ôYou know them?├óÔé¼┬Ø She asked
├óÔé¼┼ôUnfortunately yes. Moving on├óÔé¼┬Ø

Galvern scoped around a bit
├óÔé¼┼ôNo new houses. Straken hasn├óÔé¼Ôäót showed up├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams observed
├óÔé¼┼ôOh no wait, there they are├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders said, as another car pulled up with the House Straken crest. Galvern brought the scope back, towards the mansion├óÔé¼Ôäós doors. As she had expected, they were open. Two women, clearly Ladies, walked out.

The first wore a long, green and grey gown. She was very pale and tall, with red hair cut fairly short.
├óÔé¼┼ôElizabeth Montoya├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams confirmed
The second wore a long blue shawl. She was slightly shorter, with black hair.
├óÔé¼┼ôUh, hold on...├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders began ├óÔé¼┼ôLady ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ a proper one ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ Donnel Calvern, House Calvern, obviously. 72 years old.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôDoesn├óÔé¼Ôäót look it├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôGalvern, you know full well that she could easily afford a youth treatment├óÔé¼┬Ø
Galvern conceded the point with a nod, even though they couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót see her. The two ladies started moving through the guests as a pair

├óÔé¼┼ôAnyway, 72 years old, born on Datana...├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders continued
A thought struck Galvern. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat├óÔé¼Ôäós her sexual preference?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat├óÔé¼Ôäós her sexual preference?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôUh...├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders was flicking through her TLLA file ├óÔé¼┼ôHetro. Why?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôAnd Montoya?├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern continued
├óÔé¼┼ôHetro too. You know what the big houses are like on ├óÔé¼╦£impurities├óÔé¼Ôäó ├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThen what├óÔé¼Ôäós a Calvern doing living in a Montoyan mansion?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI don├óÔé¼Ôäót know. The file doesn├óÔé¼Ôäót say anything about it.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôHmm├óÔé¼┬Ø

A swarm of servants came forth. They marched out the doors single file in two lines, with black trousers, dark blue waist-coats and white shirts. Galvern sweeped the scope over them. At the back of the closest line walked a thin, scrawny woman with black hair.
├óÔé¼┼ôHello Tara├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern muttered under her breath.

The servants spread out, collecting luggage and such. The woman at the back, Tara, scratched her ear. Aboard the Vengeance, the second radio crackled into life. They started to get the sounds that went with the pictures
A female voice came into hearing ├óÔé¼┼ô-do agree├óÔé¼┬Ø. Galvern kept the scope on Tara to ensure they got pictures to go with the sounds. Wind whistled and the snow crunched under a horde of footfalls.

├óÔé¼┼ôMay I take your bags sir and miss?├óÔé¼┬Ø Tara asked the Afradells. There was a delay between viewing her speaking and hearing it, putting things out of sync. It was very disconcerting

├óÔé¼┼ôI beg your pardon?├óÔé¼┬Ø Asked the Lady. Her voice sounded beautiful, except for the fact that it oozed oily pride. Aboard the Vengeance, Anders gritted his teeth. ├óÔé¼┼ôOh,├óÔé¼┬Ø She said, only just spotting Tara, despite the fact that Tara was standing practically in front of her. ├óÔé¼┼ôYes, you may have the honour, servant girl├óÔé¼┬Ø

├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóve got a shot├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern offered, laying the sights on Lady Afradell├óÔé¼Ôäós head
├óÔé¼┼ôDon├óÔé¼Ôäót├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders said, bitterly. ├óÔé¼┼ôWe can├óÔé¼Ôäót blow our cover. Besides, we can rig a cargo hauler to remote control and kamikaze it on her face if you want├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôNah, I├óÔé¼Ôäód rather not damage a cargo hauler taking that thing out├óÔé¼┬Ø Tara said, joining the conversation and whispering into her concealed microbead. ├óÔé¼┼ôSnooty bitch├óÔé¼┬Ø
Anders smiled. Tara opened the Afradell car boot, heaved two large suitcases out and headed back to the mansion
├óÔé¼┼ôBesides,├óÔé¼┬Ø Tara continued quietly, ├óÔé¼┼ôI can always get the chef to pee in the soup├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWe are recording this, you know├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams pointed out, and Tara kept quiet.

Tara entered the mansion with the suitcases, out of Galvern├óÔé¼Ôäós sight. Galvern brought the scope back as the second radio aboard the Vengeance crackled and died as she turned off her microbead.

├óÔé¼┼ôThey├óÔé¼Ôäóre going into the mansion.├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern said, ├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóll try to track them through the windows where possible.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôUnderstood├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams replied
The second radio fizzled to life again. ├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóll track them through the building├óÔé¼┬Ø Tara whispered. ├óÔé¼┼ôThe bugs are active, you├óÔé¼Ôäóre getting the feeds for the room they├óÔé¼Ôäóre in.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôUnderstood├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams repeated.
├óÔé¼┼ôI had to turn off the bead to avoid it being spotted by the scanners├óÔé¼┬Ø Tara explained.
The was a large amount of noise and chatter as the crowd entered the Meeting Hall. The sheer number of voices made picking out a particular conversation impossible, though there was a large upshot ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ Tara could talk fairly clearly without fear of being overhead. This she used to the maximum, catching up on all she├óÔé¼Ôäód missed in her three weeks as a serving maid in the ------- as the crowd continued into the Banquet Hall.
The Hall had a very high ceiling, consisting as it did of two floors. The walls were covered in paintings of various people in the Montoya family line, with the family tree and crest hanging above the host├óÔé¼Ôäós seat at the table. Galvern, watching through the large ornate windows (which fortunately weren├óÔé¼Ôäót stained glass), saw Tara and the other servants take their standing positions near the wall. The guests filtered in and there was some confusion as people tried to find their chairs. After everyone got their place, the banquet began. Half the servants (Tara included) left to the ------- to get the food.
├óÔé¼┼ôThe offer to get the chef to piss in the Afradells├óÔé¼Ôäó soup is still open├óÔé¼┬Ø Tara whispered
├óÔé¼┼ôYou have a strong rapport with the head chef├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders observed
├óÔé¼┼ôOh you know me├óÔé¼┬Ø

Aboard the Vengeance, they let the banquet run on until half-way through the main course.
├óÔé¼┼ôMake the call now?├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders asked
├óÔé¼┼ôBest time really.├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams replied
They├óÔé¼Ôäód been judging the time to make the call carefully, aiming to cause as much disruption as possible in the hope that Montoya would panic and do something stupid. Adams nodded to Anders, who walked off to the main communication hub.

In the mansion, one of the younger butlers picked up the ringing phone.
├óÔé¼┼ôHello, you have reached the Montoya Residence, may I inquire as to who is calling?├óÔé¼┬Ø
The caller replied and the butler blanched.

Galvern watched as a panicked butler ran up to Montoya. He didn├óÔé¼Ôäót make much noise but all the guests were watching him with keen interest. Montoya looked irritated. Then the butler whispered into her ear and she went pale. Montoya took the phone and quietly left the table, breaking into a run as she reached the door, with the guests of the Great Houses watching her with interest. After a moment, Lady Donnel went after her. The two where now out of sight from Galvern.

Tara discreetly switched the bugs to the room Montoya and Donnel were in by thumbing her ear bead, an act she hid as scratching the back of her neck. The Vengeance├óÔé¼Ôäós second radio did a white-out, then came back running off a different feed. They came to Montoya and Donnel, mid-conversation
├óÔé¼┼ô- was it?├óÔé¼┬Ø Donnel was asking quietly
├óÔé¼┼ôIt├óÔé¼Ôäós the Inquisition├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya hissed back
├óÔé¼┼ôThe Inqui - ├óÔé¼┬Ø Donnel nigh shouted. Montoya silenced her quickly
├óÔé¼┼ôThe Inquisition?├óÔé¼┬Ø Donnel repeated, quieter.
├óÔé¼┼ôYes. ├óÔé¼╦£The Galaxies Finest├óÔé¼Ôäó are after us├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôDo they know?├óÔé¼┬Ø Donnel asked

├óÔé¼┼ôWe do now├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders muttered. Adams hushed him with a wave of his hand

├óÔé¼┼ôI don├óÔé¼Ôäót think so. I bet this is that bastard Argen├óÔé¼Ôäós fault├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya mused
Argen was the head of House Straken
├óÔé¼┼ôI hope so.├óÔé¼┬Ø Donnel said sincerely. ├óÔé¼┼ôDoes Ian know?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôOf course he doesn├óÔé¼Ôäót, we├óÔé¼Ôäóve only just received the call├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWell what are you going to do?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóll tell him. We├óÔé¼Ôäóll think of something├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat about the guests?├óÔé¼┬Ø Donnel asked incredulously
├óÔé¼┼ôTell them I a... family emergency├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThat won├óÔé¼Ôäót last long├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI know, but it├óÔé¼Ôäóll have to do. Use your imagination.├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya began walking off, her shoes clacking on the floor ├óÔé¼┼ôSay one of my uncles got Tallen Fever or something. Improvise!├óÔé¼┬Ø

Galvern watched as Donnel walked back in. She made her apologies, didn├óÔé¼Ôäót even explain what was going on and ran out the door again. The banquet dissolved into pandemonium.
├óÔé¼┼ôWell,├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern said. ├óÔé¼┼ôYou wanted maximum disruption...├óÔé¼┬Ø
Adams smiled quietly to himself.

================================
PRODUCTION NOTES:
Will the server go mental at me again? Let's see...

Nope. Yays!

Comments?

i like it

IF this was one of zoombies storys about 4 people would have been screwed
already...

Screwed as in, about to die or as in having sex?

both

Pfft. No such thing as in too much sex.

but more lasers, more guns, and more explosions will make up for any imbalence you may THINK exsist. But you would be thinking wrong.

dang i didn't edit before you read my post

Oh well. My point still stands.

Also Gusemyname...new episode?

Like...


now?

Sorry, being in bed and asleep sortof stops anything from being posted.
It's a bit short, I know

The evening went badly for Montoya, to put it lightly. As nothing relevant to their investigations seemed likely to occur, Adams left, leaving Anders with a rations pack and a caffeine flask. Jones popped in once to see if they├óÔé¼Ôäód found anything else, but that was about it. Eventually, Galvern gave up and set the rifle on a tripod so that the image feed would continue. Finally, the light got so low that any continued observation would be pointless, so Anders gave up and left too.

The next morning he was woken up early by Jones.
├óÔé¼┼ôMontoya├óÔé¼Ôäós up to something. Adams wants you on the deck├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôOkay...├óÔé¼┬Ø It was very early. Ander├óÔé¼Ôäós head hurt badly
├óÔé¼┼ôCaffeine?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones asked, holding up a flask and grinning

Anders slipped into his seat. ├óÔé¼┼ôWell?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôShe├óÔé¼Ôäós hiring├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern said simply
├óÔé¼┼ôWho?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôMercs├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôDefinitely something to hide├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams observed
├óÔé¼┼ôUh-huh├óÔé¼┬Ø
Galvern├óÔé¼Ôäós scope was playing over a group of rough-looking men in red armour. They looked like paid muscle, no problem for a trained TLA trooper, let alone an Investigator. Because Tara wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót there they weren├óÔé¼Ôäót getting any sounds. The leader ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ a large, bald man talking to Donnel ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ looked angry and turned away, walking off with fury in his stride
├óÔé¼┼ôThat was a declined offer├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern observed unnecessarily.
Donnel looked tired and checked her watch, waiting for the next lot to arrive. There was a slight rumble in the background, and Donnel├óÔé¼Ôäós head snapped upwards, scanning the sky
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat├óÔé¼Ôäós that - ├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern asked, but was cut short as the roar escalated into deafening proportions. A matt black ship, large and shaped like an diving eagle roared overhead, with landing jets where the falcon├óÔé¼Ôäós legs and talons would be angling down to land the ship effortlessly on the front lawn.
├óÔé¼┼ôWow├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern said simply. She got the scope focused again.
Donnel was clearly impressed. The ship├óÔé¼Ôäós ramp descended and a woman in black armour stepped out. She had dark grey hair and the poise of a veteran. She also had a Plasma Rifle strapped to her back, showing that she was a well equipped veteran.
├óÔé¼┼ôAnders?├óÔé¼┬Ø She asked
├óÔé¼┼ôSearching now├óÔé¼┬Ø Came the reply. After a few moments, the monitor beeped and a red light came on. Ander├óÔé¼Ôäós frowned. ├óÔé¼┼ôShe has no file├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôShit. These are professionals├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôAnd they for money.├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders continued, tired ├óÔé¼┼ôAnd if there├óÔé¼Ôäós one thing the Great Houses have, it├óÔé¼Ôäós money├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôShit├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern muttered again
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóll tell Adams. We├óÔé¼Ôäóre going to need some Storm Troopers for this├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWonderful├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern muttered and the two women she was watching shook hands.

Galvern sweeped over the black ship as Adams started making rather urgent communications with the Inquisitorial Storm Troopers division. It was black, all the way over like an Inquisitorial ship. There were numerous windows and port-holes into it, so she zoomed in for a better view.
It was quite a large team. She was currently looking through into the cafeteria. About 30 men and women, all in black armour, and with plasma rifles strapped on their backs, sat ease either talking, eating or both. They looked quite alert. If it came to a fight, it would be bloody.
├óÔé¼┼ôWe├óÔé¼Ôäóre lucky.├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders said over the microbead, ├óÔé¼┼ôThere├óÔé¼Ôäós a troopship in the area. They├óÔé¼Ôäóll arrive around noon.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhen do you go planetside?├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern asked
├óÔé¼┼ôEvening, probably. I don├óÔé¼Ôäót know, I├óÔé¼Ôäóll ask Adams├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôRight├óÔé¼┬Ø
Galvern sighed. She didn├óÔé¼Ôäót like this at all. Taking on the Great Houses, even a relatively small one like House Montoya. They had a lot of money they could throw at things. Though that fortunately meant they weren├óÔé¼Ôäót exactly subtle, with a few exceptions of course (House Pavren were slippery bastards). Take Lady Montoya├óÔé¼Ôäós current actions. Even if Tara hadn├óÔé¼Ôäót picked up their rather hushed conversation, hiring a load of mercs after being informed that the Inquisition would be paying a visit was indicative of a lot of things. It wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót enough to get them legally arrested of course, but the Inquisition tended to throw the law out the window (and into a wood chipper) at times like these. Storm Troopers in particular always shot first and asked questions later.
Mercs or not, Montoya would not live out the night.

A few hours later the black-armoured mercs had spread out over the mansion, visibly guarding it. Donnel seemed to be giving the unidentifiable merc leader a guided tour of the mansion. The black falcon ship had been moved to of the mansion├óÔé¼Ôäós pads where it ominously dwarfed all the other ships there. In orbit above the planet, another black ship approached the Vengeance. Unlike the elegant mercenary vessel below, it was basically and ungainly looking block covered in spires and outcroppings. It was long, thin and nearly flat, covered in turrets and launch bays. The on-ship communicators announced it├óÔé¼Ôäós identity every few minutes.
It was Troopship, full of Inquisitorial Storm Troopers. It moved alongside the Vengeance and the ships docked.

The transfer of men (The Vengeance also had a trio of political prisoners they wanted taken off their hands) took a few hours. Captain Lannings wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót too happy ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ the Vengeance was a small ship ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ so most of the Storm Troopers ended up in an empty hangar. Not that they complained. They couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót. Instead, they set up tents and other such temporary housing and got ready for the raid on the mansion.

***

On the surface, Galvern was having trouble.
├óÔé¼┼ô-breaki- -p. Ple- r-peat!├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders voice was being broken up and getting harder to hear
├óÔé¼┼ôThere├óÔé¼Ôäós a blizzard!├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern shouted over the wind. ├óÔé¼┼ôCame out of nowhere!├óÔé¼┬Ø
And it was a hell of a blizzard. Snow whirled around her and she drew her greatcoat closer around her, glad she had brought it. Her tent was getting pummelled
├óÔé¼┼ôA bli├óÔé¼ÔÇØd?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôYes! A blizzard!├óÔé¼┬Ø Galvern shouted into her microbead ├óÔé¼┼ôVisibility is down to a few meters!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWh-├óÔé¼┬Ø His voice crackled out and she kicked the transmitter.
├óÔé¼┼ôI said Yes!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôYes to wh-?├óÔé¼┬Ø his voice crackled out again
├óÔé¼┼ôLook, I can├óÔé¼Ôäót see anything from here. Heat scanners are being foiled by the snow, and infrared just isn├óÔé¼Ôäót working for some reason. Can you send someone to pick me up?├óÔé¼┬Ø
By way of reply, Anders sent two clicks into her microbead. That meant ├óÔé¼┼ôyes├óÔé¼┬Ø.
Galvern gratefully dragged her equipment into her tent. She activated a portable heater and waited.

***

Anders sighed and got out of his chair.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat├óÔé¼Ôäós wrong?├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams asked from inside the doorway.
├óÔé¼┼ôWe├óÔé¼Ôäóve lost our sniper cover.├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders replied. ├óÔé¼┼ôBlizzard├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôDoes she require an evac?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôShe wants one, but it is just a blizzard. Once Jones and Sanderson have dropped everyone off they can pick her up in the Stormwind.├óÔé¼┬Ø
The irony of using a Gunship dubbed ├óÔé¼╦£Stormwind├óÔé¼Ôäó in a blizzard was not lost on Anders
Adams nodded and walked off again.

He found who he was looking for. Captain Lannings was leaning on a metal cane and watching him warily. He├óÔé¼Ôäód damaged his left leg by accident earlier that day whilst supervising the docking procedures and, due to his age more than anything else, now required a walking stick. He wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót too pleased about it.
├óÔé¼┼ôEverything is ready Investigator├óÔé¼┬Ø He said.
Adams nodded.
├óÔé¼┼ôThe Stormwind is loaded in Lightning 01. The Storm Troopers are in Lightnings 02 to 06├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôYour service will be remembered, Captain├óÔé¼┬Ø
Lannings turned with a grunt and limped back into the elevator. Adams couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót tell if it was from the effort or part of the conversation.

***

├óÔé¼┼ôHow are we deploying?├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders asked as he and Adams walked towards the docking bay
├óÔé¼┼ôWe go in first, you and I├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams began ├óÔé¼┼ôIf guilty, and we know she is from her actions, we arrest her. There will be resistance. Left here.├óÔé¼┬Ø
They turned a corner and Adams continued ├óÔé¼┼ôWe have five dropships. Two will go in the front, two in the back and the last will come down on the roof. Next right. If the targets escape we hunt them down with the Stormwind. Left here. If they manage to escape into space, the Vengeance will pursue.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôOkay. What do we do?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóll deal with Montoya. You hunt around the mansion as best you can. Get as much information as possible before the Storm Troopers arrive. There will be a lot of shooting, so a lot of useful information might get destroyed.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Anders nodded
├óÔé¼┼ôGet Tara out too before they realise we have an insider. And bring the shotgun├óÔé¼┬Ø

They entered the elevator and rode it down to the dock level. Jones and Sanderson were already in ├óÔé¼╦£their├óÔé¼Ôäó Lightning and were setting things up. Jones was twiddling with dials above his head whilst Sanderson had put on his helmet and was altering the straps. Aside them stood five more Lightning Dropships in a line, loading their batches of Storm Troopers. Ten men per plane, but Storm Troopers had a lot of equipment to carry with them. Their armoured exo-skeletons alone weighed in at almost 70 kilograms total. Then you had the weapons, scanning devices, jammers, and a portable com-net and transmitter for the squad leader. All in all, they weighed quite a lot.
Adams and Anders strapped in as Sanderson and Jones turned everything on. They were in the front section. The back section of the Lightning was taken up by the Stormwind. Adams had brought his custom-made las-sword (which was basically a normal sword but with lasers running along the blade edge to improve cutting abilities) and a light shatter pistol. Anders had brought the tri-barrelled shotgun with him, as well as a slugger pistol for back-up. Jones and Sanderson had pistols of varying types.
├óÔé¼┼ôLightning 01 requesting launch from pad 3├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôDock Command, request accepted. Lowering pad 3 to Launch├óÔé¼┬Ø
The Lightning moved down into the Launch, looking down on the icy-white surface of Sarris Beta
├óÔé¼┼ôLightning 01, launching├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôDock Command, launch authorised. Fire when ready├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jones checked his straps and brought up the pre-flight checklist.
├óÔé¼┼ôDocking clamps disengaged...├óÔé¼┬Ø
Sanderson flicked a few switches. ├óÔé¼┼ôCheck├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jones ticked it off ├óÔé¼┼ôFuel lines disconnected├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôCheck├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson said, bringing up a 3d view of the ship

The checklist took a few minutes to get through.
├óÔé¼┼ôEveryone strapped in?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones asked, turning around in his seat
├óÔé¼┼ôCheck├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders replied.
├óÔé¼┼ôDock Command this Lightning 01. Launch Ready.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôRoger that 01. Good hunting├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôHope so Dock Command├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones replied before finding the space sickness pills again and tossed them back. They went around the group and he returned them to the glove compartment.
├óÔé¼┼ôLet├óÔé¼Ôäós go!├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones said jovially, pushing forwards on the accelerator. The Lightning shot forwards and into space.

The Investigator├óÔé¼Ôäós Lightning set down in the city of Plasgow, near to the mansion. The other five dropships did the same.
├óÔé¼┼ôHow long to unload the Stormwind?├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders asked Sanderson.
He shrugged. ├óÔé¼┼ôHalf an hour, maybe more.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôRight.├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams said, checking his watch ├óÔé¼┼ôWe├óÔé¼Ôäóll have to delay Montoya from calling in her mercs before then├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôMore time for me├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders pointed out
├óÔé¼┼ôTrue... true...├óÔé¼┬Ø

They took a grav skiff to the mansion. It pulled up outside the mansion├óÔé¼Ôäós gate. Unlike the homes of most Great Houses, this one seemed to be in good taste. Instead of gilt, gold and evidence of wealth being thrown everywhere, it had moderation. The gates were tall, made iron painted black, and had the Montoyan Family Crest woven into it. Behind it stretched out a pathway through the grounds. The pathway was marked by light poles set into the snow at regular intervals and lead to the mansion├óÔé¼Ôäós main doors. The mansion itself was currently impossible to see due to the severe reduction in visibility, courtesy of the blizzard.
They exited the skiff, paid the driver and walked to gate. The wind howled around them and they brought their cloaks closer around them. Anders had concealed his shotgun under arm and Adams├óÔé¼Ôäó pistol and sword were hidden in the inside lining of his cloak. They both wore thick grey fur hats and fur-lined cloaked that went down to the ankle, also grey. Their boots were thick and heavy, with spiked soles, and they moved as fast as they could, their feet falling deep into the snow with each step. As they followed the line of light poles, a man in white armour suddenly appeared out of nowhere, his choice of colour keeping him completely hidden. It took a moment for Anders to realise it was one of Montoya├óÔé¼Ôäós new merc guards. At first he thought it to be an ambush, but the merc was unarmed.
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóm sorry,├óÔé¼┬Ø The merc began. His, this merc was male, voice was tinny and muffled by the armour and the winds, but clear enough. He continued ├óÔé¼┼ôbut the blizzard has cut of access to Mansion├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWe├óÔé¼Ôäóre members of the Imperial Inquisition!├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams replied, shouting over the wind. ├óÔé¼┼ôOur visit is arranged!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThe Inqui-?├óÔé¼┬Ø the merc asked, blindsided. ├óÔé¼┼ôHold on. Stay here!├óÔé¼┬Ø He turned and ran off, disappearing into the snowstorm.
Adams and Anders waited buffeted by the gale. No wonder Galvern had wanted to leave. Adams loosened his sword in it├óÔé¼Ôäós scabbard, just in case. After a few minutes and black grav skiff pulled up, and the woman Anders had seen talking with Donnel earlier jumped out.
├óÔé¼┼ôLuciana Taylor!├óÔé¼┬Ø She shouted over the wind, extending a hand. Even without a helmet and being within about a foot of Adams, she still had to shout to make herself heard. Adams took it.
├óÔé¼┼ôGalliger Adams!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôYou├óÔé¼Ôäóre with the Inquisition?├óÔé¼┬Ø Taylor shouted back.
Adams nodded.
Taylor winced slightly. ├óÔé¼┼ôCome with me, I need to ask you something.├óÔé¼┬Ø

The trio entered the skiff. Taylor entered the front area to drive it, whilst Adams and Anders entered the back seats. A large, belt-fed slugger was on a pintle-mount beside Anders. The skiff sped of through the snow, causing Adams and Anders to get pelted by even more snow. Taylor didn├óÔé¼Ôäót notice. She was too concerned about driving, and besides, she had a windshield.

She drove the skiff up to and around the mansion. The mansion itself was made of a local stone, giving it a slight blue hue ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ though that could have been the ice coating. It was plain, but imposing. The skiff followed the wall, dodging outcropping and other obstacles. This ├óÔé¼╦£Taylor├óÔé¼Ôäó was a good pilot. She pulled the skiff tightly around a corner, nipped around a side door jutting out of the wall, jumped over a snow drift and pulled to a halt under a sheltered doorway. Taylor hopped out and tried to find the right key for the door. Once she found it, she unlocked the door and opened it to let Adams and Anders in. She closed the door behind her to keep out the blizzard.

The room was dark, cold, and a bit damp, lit by a pair of light poles resting in a corner. Like the outside, the walls were made of the same, almost blue stone, which the light poles simply added to. A number of crates were stacked in a corner.
Taylor leaned forward, and spoke urgently
├óÔé¼┼ôIs this an arranged visit?├óÔé¼┬Ø She asked
├óÔé¼┼ôYes├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams replied, nodding
├óÔé¼┼ôWhen did you arrange it?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôYesterday.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Taylor withdrew slightly, and swore under her breath. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhy are you here?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWe├óÔé¼Ôäóre investigators. Miss Montoya is under suspicion.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Taylor nodded to herself. ├óÔé¼┼ôDo thing she├óÔé¼Ôäós innocent?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôDo you?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI haven├óÔé¼Ôäót even been here a day. We├óÔé¼Ôäóve been let into most of the inside, but she won├óÔé¼Ôäót let us into the basement├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThe basement?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Taylor nodded. ├óÔé¼┼ôIt├óÔé¼Ôäós locked. Electronically. And well too.├óÔé¼┬Ø She sighed ├óÔé¼┼ôI imagine you knew we were here├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWe did├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôAnd that you made preparations to compensate├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôFifty Storm Troopers, in five Lightnings, along with a Stormwind├óÔé¼┬Ø
Taylor nodded, feeling rather numb ├óÔé¼┼ôI think I know why we were hired.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Adams didn├óÔé¼Ôäót say anything.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhatever happens, my team and I will not intervene.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôGood├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôFollow me, I├óÔé¼Ôäóll take you to the entrance├óÔé¼┬Ø

The main doors were made of wood, also local. They were about 3 metres high, heavy and thick, reinforced with metal. They opened by mechanism, to reveal a thick, red carpet. The walls were still stone, but of a more redder variety. With the yellow lighting, it gave the entrance hall a warm, welcoming glow. Taylor, Adams and Anders entered it gratefully.
Waiting for them stood Lady Donnel.

***

The two pilots leaned back. Sanderson cricked his back, whilst Jones rubbed his hands together. They both covered in a mixture of oil and snow. Before them stood their Stormwind Gunship, now extracted from the hull of Lightning 01.
├óÔé¼┼ôTold you she├óÔé¼Ôäód be able to handle it├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones said over his shoulder as he walked over to the same grav-skiff he├óÔé¼Ôäód used the day before to take Galvern down to her vantage point. Sanderson followed at a more leisurely pace, wiping his hands on his trousers. The grav-skiff in question had a number of chains hooked to it├óÔé¼Ôäós rear and attached to the Stormwind. ├óÔé¼┼ôOld girl never failed me before├óÔé¼┬Ø
He hopped in the skiff, which emitted a slight ├óÔé¼╦£phut├óÔé¼Ôäó and fell to the ground with a clank. Jones blinked. Sanderson walked over smiling. He outstretched his hand.
├óÔé¼┼ôRight, fine, you win├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones replied, dejectedly stuffing a wad of money into Sanderson├óÔé¼Ôäós hand.

***

├óÔé¼┼ôMy apologies, Investigator, but Lady Montoya is currently busy. She will be available in a few minutes├óÔé¼┬Ø Lady Donnel said, with an slight apologetic bow. ├óÔé¼┼ôYou can wait outside her office if you wish to sit down.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Adams, nodded accepting her apologies. ├óÔé¼┼ôWhere is Miss Montoya├óÔé¼Ôäós office?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôFollow me, and I will show you├óÔé¼┬Ø Donnel replied. She turned and walked up to one of the staircases. The entrance hall had two, coming from the bottom floor at the sides of the room up, curving around to a balcony on the first floor. Beyond the balcony was a large wooden door.
Donnel ascended the stairs gracefully, as did Adams, whilst Taylor and Anders trudged up them, leaving a trail of melting snow behind them. Donnel either didn├óÔé¼Ôäót notice or was too polite to comment. She opened the doors with a graceful flourish, and stood to one side to let them enter.
The room they were now in was in the same style and entrance hall, but with less staircases and large doors. The same reddish stone, the same yellowy lighting. It was wider than it was long, with two doors on the long side opposite. The two short walls each had a single door. All the doors were wood.
Beside the door on one of the shorter sides was a line of benches. On the walls stood several pictures of the Montoyan family. Donnel gestured to the benches as an invitation to sit down, and entered through the door, nipping through it quickly so that they could not see the room within. Adams and Taylor took seats. Anders remained standing, looking at one of the paintings. A man with a youthful face but grey hair sat in the typical portrait pose, looking back.
├óÔé¼┼ôChristian Montoya. M12 441 ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ M12 527.├óÔé¼┬Ø He read of off a small plaque below the picture ├óÔé¼┼ôI didn├óÔé¼Ôäót realise Christian was dead├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôSkiff accident. The other driver was on illegal intoxicants├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams said, also looking at the picture. ├óÔé¼┼ôAnders, I believe you have a job to do├óÔé¼┬Ø
Anders turned, nodded and walked off, unslinging his shotgun as he did so.
├óÔé¼┼ôTaylor,├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams said, without looking at her ├óÔé¼┼ôThe Storm Troopers are on Irrefutable Orders to shoot, on sight, anyone in the area who is not a member of an Investigatorial Party. This includes your team.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôDo you want me to leave?├óÔé¼┬Ø Taylor asked
Adams shook his head. ├óÔé¼┼ôThey├óÔé¼Ôäóve put this place under quarantine. You├óÔé¼Ôäód also tip off Montoya if you left.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThen what ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ are suggesting I add my team to that of an Investigator?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI don├óÔé¼Ôäót have to ask, and you can thank the Articles of Allegiance for that, but yes├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóll go tell my squad├óÔé¼┬Ø Taylor said bitterly, before standing and leaving the room.

***

Anders practically walked into her. He stopped in time, but Taylor didn├óÔé¼Ôäót, and went skidded into a wall. Anders lowered the shotgun
├óÔé¼┼ôSorry.├óÔé¼┬Ø He said
├óÔé¼┼ôNo problem├óÔé¼┬Ø She sounded rather annoyed at something.
She turned, intending to continue on her way, when Anders had a sudden idea and stopped her
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôRemember what you said earlier, about not being allowed in the basement?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôYes├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôCan you show me where it is?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôIn a moment, yes.├óÔé¼┬Ø She nipped outside through the main doors and back into the blizzard. There was a rush of air and sound, but it was cut short when Taylor shut the doors after her. Anders waited for several minutes, expecting to run into a servant or maid, but none came. He assumed Montoya had sent them elsewhere for their own safety. Tara would be able to get out easily enough, he thought. Then the doors opened again and Taylor rushed in, slamming the doors after her with a large amount of snow in her hair.
├óÔé¼┼ôAre you alright?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôYeah. The winds have gotten a lot stronger, that├óÔé¼Ôäós all. Follow me.├óÔé¼┬Ø

***

├óÔé¼┼ôDo you she├óÔé¼Ôäóll fly in this?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones asked.
├óÔé¼┼ôWell, Galvern will be more than a bit annoyed when no-one appears to pick her up, so if I were you, I├óÔé¼Ôäód hope so├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson replied
├óÔé¼┼ôSeriously Sanders, these winds are getting strong├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWell, there├óÔé¼Ôäós only one way to find out, isn├óÔé¼Ôäót there?├óÔé¼┬Ø

==============================
PRODUCTION NOTES
Sorry, sorry. I know it's late. Three things at once (Schoolwork, this and Epic Legions) means my writing time is down to a third of what it should be.

Enjoy.

Insurgency Devision Returns...

returns!

Lady Donnel came back out of Montoya├óÔé¼Ôäós office. ├óÔé¼┼ôLady Montoya will ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£├óÔé¼┬Ø She stopped when she realised that the mercenary Taylor and the Investigator├óÔé¼Ôäós accomplice weren├óÔé¼Ôäót still there. The Investigator himself was, however, still in his seat, and looking at her, his expression unreadable. Donnel quailed slightly. ├óÔé¼┼ôLady Montoya will see you now├óÔé¼┬Ø she said quickly, and she stood aside to hold open the door for him. He got up, nodded without smiling and entered. As soon as the door was closed after him, Donnel fled.

Investigator Adams entered at a slow place, biding his time and trying to give Anders as long as he could before the inevitable gunfire started. Montoya├óÔé¼Ôäós office was tall, with more orange stone than the local blue. Glow-globes dangled off the ceiling, and fake candles on holders of gold plated metal bolted to the wall lit the scene. The walls were lined with bookcases and cabinets. In the middle of the room was a large wooden desk, immaculately carved and with a leather protective covering that was almost entirely hidden under stacks of paper, data slates and bags of mem-sticks.
In a chair of the same wood and leather, sat an very tired looking woman in a thick blue greatcoat with white fur lining which Adams knew to be large enough to conceal any number of weapons. Her red hair was now tied back in bun, and she looked extremely tired. The smell of brewed caffeine wafted about the room. She looked entirely unlike the person who had gone out into the cold to meet her guests, to the point that Adams was nearly thrown off guard.
Nearly
Montoya smiled wanly and got to her feet, waving in the direction of a chair so that Adams could sit down. She walked over to one of the cabinets and opened it, to reveal the source of the caffeine smell. A small hot drinks dispenser was build into the wood panelling, emitting a rich aroma from the tank of bubbling black liquid positioned behind it. Montoya took a cup, filled it with the twist of a handle, and returned to her seat.
├óÔé¼┼ôSo, Investigator├óÔé¼┬Ø She asked with a tired smile that Adams did not return, ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat can I do for you today?├óÔé¼┬Ø

***

├óÔé¼┼ôAround the corner. Big metal hatch with an autoturret next to it. Can├óÔé¼Ôäót miss it├óÔé¼┬Ø Taylor said simply, pointing Anders in the right direction. ├óÔé¼┼ôNow if you people will please excuse me, I need to see my squad├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôBy all means├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders replied, confused.
Taylor grunted dismissively and ran back to the large main doors. Braving the cold, she heaved it open and ran at full pelt into the blizzard to the parked grav-skiff. Damn DAC agents.

Anders watched her go with the air of someone too polite to comment. Then he turned and headed towards the corner. He pressed himself against the stone wall as he heard the distinct beeping of an auto-turret IFF system. The stone was surprisingly warm. Evidently, the mansion was fully heated. He had expected no less from a family as rich as the Montoyans. The walls were covered in hanging fabrics with incredibly detailed, yet also incredibly bland, artistry woven into them. A number of holo-graphic pieces of artwork were mounted on the walls in places. Anders liked them more, if only because he knew how to disable a building├óÔé¼Ôäós power grid by tampering with one.
He peered around the corner. It was a dead end, more or less. In the middle of the floor, in contrast with the red carpet, was a gleaming metal doorhatch. Behind it stood a matt-black cylinder on a tripod, with a small green light mounted on the side that moved erratically over everything within view, and emitted a high-pitch beep every second to say that it was still there and still working. The manufacturers had had the sense to know that putting a sound alarm that activated when the IFF picked up something that shouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót be there would be rather pointless, the whir, chatter and general noise of the thing firing would be enough to turn heads at quite some distance.
Anders knew he couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót take that thing on without being reduced to a large puddle of liquid, but he could see a way around it. Behind the autoturret was a door. It was steel framed and probably electronically locked and barred, but he├óÔé¼Ôäód rather take on a keypad than a big turret that was quite capable of taking out large cargo haulers. He drew back and thumbed his ear-stud, closing his eyes as he did so. In his mind├óÔé¼Ôäós eye, the technical drawing of the mansion appeared. The corridor he was currently in wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót on the schematics, but the room that that door probably opened into was. It was on of the -------, and he├óÔé¼Ôäód have to go around quite a bit of the mansion to reach it. Whatever was guarded by the turret and the metal hatch, it could wait, Anders decided. He could probably take the turret out with a grenade, but the shooting hadn├óÔé¼Ôäót started yet, and he wanted things to stay as calm as possible for as long as possible.
He searched over the schematics, looking for points of interest. Donnel├óÔé¼Ôäós study looked like a good idea, and it was close to. Back up a bit, left turn, right turn, third right, straight on and a retinal scanner to defeat. Good thing the TLLA kept retinal records.

***

├óÔé¼┼ôInvestigator, you caused quite a fuss last night, and as I├óÔé¼Ôäóve been up for most of it, I really am too tired for subtleties, so what do you want?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Adams backed out of his chair and leaned forwards on it├óÔé¼Ôäós back. The was something odd about her. Too├óÔé¼┬ª too├óÔé¼┬ª
├óÔé¼┼ôInvestigator?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┬ªconfident├óÔé¼┬ª
├óÔé¼┼ôYou are under suspicion of treason by the Inquisitorial Department of Armed Crime and the Inquisitorial Intelligence Agency. If you agree to go quietly you shall not be harmed prior to your sentencing. Any resistance will be seen as treason against the government and you will be executed. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in the Supreme Courts.├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams said with practised monotony.
Montoya blinked.
├óÔé¼┼ôWell that├óÔé¼Ôäós a mouthful├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya said cheerfully. ├óÔé¼┼ôSurely you can├óÔé¼Ôäót be here just for me├óÔé¼┬ª?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Too confident. It didn├óÔé¼Ôäót seem false. What did she have concealed under that cloak? Earlier that evening, she├óÔé¼Ôäód been sent into a panic at the merest mention of them coming. Now she seemed perfectly at ease, even though she was going to be arrested. Her new mercenaries couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót be the reason, so why was she so├óÔé¼┬ª
├óÔé¼┼ôInvestigator, you really should say something other than your automated arrest babble├óÔé¼┬Ø She said with a quiet laugh
├óÔé¼┬ªdifferent.
Something in Adams mind clicked. He raised his pistol with a quick snap.
├óÔé¼┼ôInvestigator!├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya began with a laugh
├óÔé¼┼ôYou├óÔé¼Ôäóre not Elizabeth Marseilles Montoya.├óÔé¼┬Ø He stated bluntly
├óÔé¼╦£Montoya├óÔé¼Ôäó smiled and went for something under her cloak. Recognising the movement, Adams shot her in the forehead

***

Anders looked up when the shot rang out. He was in Donnel├óÔé¼Ôäós study, stuffing mem-sticks and paper into a suitcase. It was covered in bookcases which contained boxes of mem-sticks and data slates rather than actual books. A computer sat on a table in the middle of the room, and Anders had got that sending the contents of it├óÔé¼Ôäós drivers by secure link to the Vengeance├óÔé¼Ôäós mainframes. The sound of Adam├óÔé¼Ôäós Talbrin 590 was hard to mistake. Due to the distraction, he wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót prepared for when Donnel burst into her study. This fact probably saved her life. She ran in, slamming open the door, saw Anders, tried to stop and turn back and tripped on the carpet edge, sending her into the table.
She lay there, a combination of stunned and dazed as the ceiling swam above her. Then Anders put a boot on her stomach and aimed a pistol right between her eyes (his shotgun being strapped to his back and too unwieldy for such a threat). She gibbered at the sight of the long barrel
He was about to ask her something when his ear stud beeped. He leaned back, lowering the pistol as he did and answered it with his free hand, looking away into space. Donnel looked for something, anything, that could get her away from the man with the gun. The lightstick she used to see better when writing or working into the night lay on the floor, shattered slightly from falling off the table. She edged her hand towards it.
The man, without even looking at her, the stick or even breaking his conversation calmly brought up the pistol and shot the lightstick in two. Donnel retraced her hand hastily and waited for the man to stop talking to the voice in his ear.
├óÔé¼┼ôOh, okay.├óÔé¼┬Ø
A pause, as the person on the other side of the ear stud continued
├óÔé¼┼ôYes, I have.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Another pause
├óÔé¼┼ôYes, certainly├óÔé¼┬Ø
Pause
├óÔé¼┼ôOkay├óÔé¼┬Ø
The man looked back down at Donnel, raising the pistol again
├óÔé¼┼ôWhere is Elizabeth Montoya?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Donnel smiled in reply. The man cocked the pistol and the smile vanished. ├óÔé¼┼ôThe monorail, but she├óÔé¼Ôäóll be far, far away from here├óÔé¼┬Ø Donnel stated, as evenly as she could.
The man sighed. ├óÔé¼┼ôYeah, she is├óÔé¼┬Ø
There was a pause. Donnel wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót sure of what to say to this. Then she realised the man was talking into his ear stud again. How impolite.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat about Jones and Sanderson├óÔé¼┬Ø
A pause
├óÔé¼┼ôIt├óÔé¼Ôäós outfitted with Anti-weapons, it can stop a train├óÔé¼┬Ø
Donnel blinked at this in alarm
The man smiled, but at something from the ear stud, rather than at her. ├óÔé¼┼ôOf course├óÔé¼┬Ø
He touched the side of the stud, cutting off the call. Then he looked back down at her. ├óÔé¼┼ôLady Donnel, you are under suspicion of treason by the Inquisitorial Department of Armed Crime and the Inquisitorial Intelligence Agency. If you agree to go quietly you shall not be harmed prior to your sentencing. Any resistance will be seen as treason against the government and you will be executed. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in the Supreme Courts.├óÔé¼┬Ø The man smiled. ├óÔé¼┼ôAnd I├óÔé¼Ôäóve yet to see a monorail outrun a Stormwind├óÔé¼┬Ø
Oh shit├óÔé¼┬ª Thought Donnel

***

Jones was struggling to keep the Stormwind airborne. The winds kept making it veer west, and as that happened to be the side of the mountain, Jones really didn├óÔé¼Ôäót want to go in that direction. His instruments were going haywire. The Infrared sensor had picked out Galvern├óÔé¼Ôäós beacon, hidden by the blizzard, in the area vaguely ahead of him. Visibility was down to a few frakking metres! The Stormwind swerved and ducked. He dodged a particularly tall tree and, lacking neither adequate warning or space to move, shot another one down with the nose mounted rotary cannon before he flew into it. Then his ear stud beeped. Bugger. He needed to concentrate, damnit!
The activation override kicked in, and the stud was forced to accept the call ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ a feature that Adams only could use (by virtue of an Inquisitorial stud rather than the basic civvie one), and even then he only did it when necessary
├óÔé¼┼ôJones!├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams, as Jones had expected, said. ├óÔé¼┼ôMontoya is escaping in the monorail. Is the Stormwind airborne├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôMore or less├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones replied, gritting his teeth. He really needed to concentrate in this weather. Why couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót they have picked another damn day?
├óÔé¼┼ôTake out the train, or the track ahead of it. Don├óÔé¼Ôäót let her near the spaceport or the town!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat about Galvern?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones asked
├óÔé¼┼ôShe can wait├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams replied.
Wonderful.
├óÔé¼┼ôSanderson?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones shouted back down into the Stormwind├óÔé¼Ôäós rear compartment
├óÔé¼┼ôYes?├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson was acting copilot, as well as gunner for the wing mounts. It was he who was monitoring the IR.
├óÔé¼┼ôDo you think you can find a speeding monorail in this?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôEasily├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson replied, switching over to the ground radar.

***

Galvern sat ill at ease in her tent. Jones should have been here by now, with his nice warm Stormwind gunship. She tried the radio again, but it was dead. Not dead from signal break-up, but dead because it├óÔé¼Ôäós receiver was turned off. She hauled her rifle over onto her knees. Might as well see what was going on with the IR whilst she was here.
It took some time for her to locate and adequately fix the problem ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ some snow had managed to get inside the casing and melt, so removing it and replacing the necessary wires took some time. Confident that it should work (having tested it repeatedly until it stopped flickering and randomly turning off so much), she went back out into the blizzard.
It had somehow managed to get even worse. She wiped snow out of the earpiece and put her eye to the scope. She found the Stormwind, but it was lurching away from her position. What the hell was he playing at? She moved the scope in the direction the gunship seemed to be heading.
It was a speeding monorail.
Galvern put two and two together quickly. Montoya was on that train. Jones and Sanderson had been sent after it. If she recalled, the missiles on the Stormwind would get knocked about something awful in this wind, so they├óÔé¼Ôäód be trying to use the nose cannon. They needed to see their target for that. In this weather, they├óÔé¼Ôäód need to be within around 30 metres to do that. They├óÔé¼Ôäód have to strafe. And they were now flying against the wind.
She followed the line of the track, and was surprised to see it passed around her mountain quite nearby. She should be able to get to a suitable spot before the train passed that point.

======================
Production Notes

Ack, bit short...

Stormwind / Lightning mix-up fixed

Took you long enough is my way of saying "Hurray, He's BAAAAACK!"

Short? Seemed long enough to me...

I suppose I'm just crazy.

Donnel was secured, cuffed one of the glow globes and forced to stand on a chair just to avoid dangling. Anders had yet to see anyone get out of that. As far as he could see, they├óÔé¼Ôäód been distracted using a double, whilst the real Montoya escaped on the monorail. She├óÔé¼Ôäód left Donnel here. Why? Where were the servants and the resistance he├óÔé¼Ôäód expected from the first gunshot? Had they gone with her?
The Storm Troopers would shot anything attempting to leave the area. She had probably guessed that they were there. If she took the train, it would be to get her a head start rather than take her the entire way to the spaceports. She├óÔé¼Ôäód stop the train before she reached the cordon and attempt to pass through unseen on foot. For that to work, she├óÔé¼Ôäód need to have as few with her as possible.
Which, of course, meant that all the NCLF troops she was harbouring would still be in the mansion. They├óÔé¼Ôäód monitored all outgoing and interplanetary traffic to ensure she didn├óÔé¼Ôäót attempt to flee the system.
However, they had an advantage. The Storm Troopers wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót be moving in soon ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ Irrefutable orders being what they were (Anders had encountered the flip side of such orders too many times to even bother looking for the irony in said orders, designed to stop informants changing orders. If you used IOs, being shot whilst the Storm Troopers did precisely zilch was a risk you took), but they did have Taylor├óÔé¼Ôäós mercs. She wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót like it, wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót like it at all, but she wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót refuse an Investigator of the Inquisitorial Department of Armed Crime.
Adams would probably veto it though. Despite his earlier comment about trains and Stormwinds, Anders was acutely aware that Jones and Sanderson would have a hard time keeping their gunship airborne. It should be able to catch up and eliminate said train. If her IF was working, they could have had Galvern take out the driver, or the engine if it was AI controlled. As it was a private rail, there would be no public repercussions if they were to take out the tracks with mines and explosives. If he recalled correctly, Galvern had brought mines with her, but they were anti-personnel mines. They wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót do the job.
So they├óÔé¼Ôäód have to hope that Jones and Sanderson could take the train out before Montoya disembarks to slip through the cordon. Too risky. If she got into the city, she├óÔé¼Ôäód be tough to catch, Storm Troopers or no (The IOs for the Storm Troopers stopped if Montoya escaped their cordon, as a safety precaution). Too risky. Options, options, what else did they have?
Use a Dropship? Too long, too far. The Stormwind was closer, stood more chance and was better armed. How many trains did the mansion have? They could ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ no. No that wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót work. If they had more than one, Montoya would be running hers at top speed to get as far away in as little time as possible.
Anders did some quick mental arithmetic. Mono-rail trains tended to max out around 100mph. Grav-skiffs, like the one they├óÔé¼Ôäód come here in (which was probably Taylor├óÔé¼Ôäós, who would be less than happy at what he intended to use it for), maxed out at about 70mph and 5m altitude with the limiter active. Without it, it could theoretically go at 140mph at travel at around 25m altitude, though at such heights, it become nigh impossible to fly. Factoring in the winds, a sane altitude would be around 7m. Still within the trees, but should be about mono-rail track level. If he followed the track he├óÔé¼Ôäód be able to max out the speed without having to slow down to weave through the forest. Such speeds would be none too healthy for the skiff, but he guessed it could sustain such speeds for about half an hour. Nearest town was 50 miles away. Storm Trooper cordon 30. 140mph, 30 miles in about├óÔé¼┬ª 10 minutes? Montoya would be dropped off before that, considering the train├óÔé¼Ôäós head start, but he├óÔé¼Ôäód be able to reduce her lead, especially if he could pursue on the skiff.
The skiff it was.

He called Adams with his ear stud, explaining the plan as he ran to the skiff. Adams had also thought of this, and was heading there himself. Anders ran out the study (leaving Donnel, who was shouting at him for leaving her there) and came out into a corridor. Evidently, he├óÔé¼Ôäód come out a different door ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ he didn├óÔé¼Ôäót recognise this corridor. He mentally overlaid the schematics with his current position and went for the door at the end of the corridor. Holopicts and pieces of artwork flew past in a blur. He leaped over a fallen table, rolled and leapt into the door, smashing it open, and bruising his shoulder slightly. No time for subtleties.
He sprinted down a shorter hallway and jumped the banister on a winding stair. It turned a full 360 twice, and had a gap down the centre of it├óÔé¼Ôäós rotation. Anders jumped down that, landing with a heavy thud. Leg implants worked hard to repair the damage of the fall, and that included painkillers, causing him to stumble and fall through the next door.
This door entered into the main entrance, where Adams, the merc, Taylor, and two members of her squad where waiting. They looked up when Anders came in flying through a broken door. He managed to avoid sliding across the floor and regained some of his dignity by doing an improvised hand-spring onto his feet. Dusting some wood-dust off of his shoulder, he walked up to the group.
├óÔé¼┼ôAre we taking the skiff?├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders asked first
├óÔé¼┼ôI am.├óÔé¼┬Ø replied Adams, ├óÔé¼┼ôYou still need to find Tara. And collect as much evidence as you can├óÔé¼┬Ø
This made sense. Anders was mildly surprised to see that he├óÔé¼Ôäód forgotten all about her.
├óÔé¼┼ôWho├óÔé¼Ôäós Tara?├óÔé¼┬Ø The merc, Taylor, asked to them both
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóll chase down Montoya├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams continued, ignoring Taylor
├óÔé¼┼ôShe├óÔé¼Ôäóll get to the Storm Trooper cordon before you reach her├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders warned
├óÔé¼┼ôThen less work for me├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWho├óÔé¼Ôäós Tara?├óÔé¼┬Ø Taylor asked again. Neither paid her any attention
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat about the skiff limiter? Getting that thing out will be a pain in this weather?├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders asked
├óÔé¼┼ôOh, I removed that ages ago├óÔé¼┬Ø Taylor said bluntly
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø gasped Anders
├óÔé¼┼ôYou do realise that that├óÔé¼Ôäós technically illegal..?├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams observed in a monotone
├óÔé¼┼ôAnd is supposed to be quite difficult for someone who doesn├óÔé¼Ôäót know where the limiter is and how it works?├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders continued sceptically.
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóm mercenary. My very profession is a theoretical gray area where law is concerned.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI person├óÔé¼Ôäós loyalty should be to the TCA and not whoever pays the most!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôOh please. If the TCA want us, they pay us. Like they do you├óÔé¼┬Ø
Adams├óÔé¼Ôäó eye├óÔé¼Ôäós flashed. ├óÔé¼┼ôWe are not mercenaries!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôNever said you were. We mercs just have more promiscuity where employment is concerned├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhilst that is an interesting take on things, we have more important things to do├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders pointed out mildly
Adams continued to glare at Taylor for a second, before relenting ├óÔé¼┼ôHe├óÔé¼Ôäós right├óÔé¼┬Ø. He walked past the group and walked out the main door, despite the blizzard.
Taylor watched him leave with barely concealed amusement. Then she noticed Anders looking at her in mild disgust.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Anders sighed and shook his head. He turned on his heel and walked away too, leaving Taylor at a loss.
├óÔé¼┼ôNow what?├óÔé¼┬Ø Asked a voice from behind her
├óÔé¼┼ôGah!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôForgot we were here again, did we?├óÔé¼┬Ø Asked one of the two troopers she├óÔé¼Ôäód brought in earlier
├óÔé¼┼ôShut up Penlan├óÔé¼┬Ø

Adams went for the skiff. It was parked outside the main entrance still, powered down so that the blizzard couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót buffet it into a wall when no-one was paying attention. He hopped in, turned on the grav engines and lurched slightly as the skiff jumped a few feet into the air. Immediately, he felt the wind├óÔé¼Ôäós tug, and the skiff began to float to the left slowly. Adams grabbed the steering stick and pushed it hard to the right, in the general direction of the mono-rail track, according to the skiff├óÔé¼Ôäós onboard nav computer. He floored the accelerator and the skiff leap forwards, swatting snowflakes out of the air as it flew forwards at a high speed. The mercenary really had gotten rid of the limiter. She was good, even if she was a bit flippant.
He flicked the altitude meter slightly and the skiff jumped up and over the railings of the outer fence. He immediately brought it back down, however, as the wind was threatening to flip it upside down. He recovered control of the skiff awkwardly and started dodging through the trees.
At first it was just a glimpse. A shiny glare of metal. Then he was weaving between the struts of the mono-rail track. He did another vertical jump and got onto the track itself. The wind made it a constant fight to keep the skiff on the (relatively) thin, winding track. The damage recorders were screaming at him due to the stresses the skiff├óÔé¼Ôäós shell and engines were being put under. On the nav computer a small blip appeared on the furthest edge. He was coming up on the train.

So two was Jones and Sanderson. Jones could just about make out the outline of the track, even if he couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót see the train itself. Sanderson was keeping an eye on the radar, weapons and the general well-being of the craft. It was holding up well ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ the weather having little effect on the ship├óÔé¼Ôäós hull, just making it nigh impossible to fly properly. Then Sanderson cursed and moved the chair over to the radar display. There appeared to be a small train coming up fast on Montoya├óÔé¼Ôäós├óÔé¼┬ª

Galvern reached a good spot with a sharp intake of breath. It was icy cold up here, and the thin atmosphere was making her a bit dizzy. But no matter├óÔé¼┬ª
She hoisted the rifle up to her shoulder and checked the IF view again. Still working. She drew a bead on the train again as it approached a turn that would carry it around the mountain and thus close to her vantage point. She planted the sights on the glass window on the driver├óÔé¼Ôäós cabin. She didn├óÔé¼Ôäót necessarily have to hit whomever was driving it. The pressures being put on the glass would mean that it would shatter easily, and all the shards would shoot into the cabin. If there was a driver, he├óÔé¼Ôäód suffer some severe lacerations. And if by sheer luck he didn├óÔé¼Ôäót, or they managed to get someone else in there, the fierce winds and snow that would come pouring in would make things difficult.
Thus, she took her shot.
The glass shattered exactly as she had predicted, crumpling with the impact, then shatter into a thousand pieces, shards flying inwards. There was a spurt of blood (or some liquid or other) which meant that she├óÔé¼Ôäód probably wounded the driver. Then the train sped past the corner and out of Galvern├óÔé¼Ôäós sights.

***

Donnel watched the door the Investigator├óÔé¼Ôäós aide had gone through. He├óÔé¼Ôäód been gone for a good few minutes now. She looked down at the chair. Her legs were tied together. If she kicked, she risked knocking over the chair and would be left dangling by her arms, probably doing damage to her shoulder joints in the process. Not that she was a particularly heavy woman. She looked up. Her hands were tied, and the rope looped around a glow globe. It joined the ceiling by a fine black chain and two, hard to spot wires that fed it electricity. The joints looked weak, the chain rusted slightly. She lifted up off the chair with a lot of effort, pulling herself up by bending her elbows and knees into a foetal position. The chain held for a moment, before giving way. Then Donnel fell straight down, smashing through the chair. Pain flared through her legs and hip. Splintered wood and the shattered glass of the glow globe lay around her, a lot of it jabbing through her clothes and skin. One of the chair legs was embedded in her leg.
So freed, she dragged herself away from the debris of her fall and lay panting in a corner. Her bookshelves had been ransacked, all their mem sticks and data slates stolen. Hoping that this hadn├óÔé¼Ôäót been ransacked too, she edged her fingers under the brim of the bookshelf, until she found a small catch. The bookshelf swung inwards like a door, revealing a small room. Within it was a large stack of provisions, medical supplies and weapons. In contrast to the warm reds and yellow stones of her study, the room was made of pale blue-grey metal panels, for the walls, floor and ceiling. It was clean, sterile and clinical. It was her fall-out bunker, built in the case of nuclear or anti-matter weapon attack.
She dragged herself in, blood drawing across the clean floor. She reached up and pulled down a stack of med packs down on top of her. She grasped one and pulled it open. She jabbed a small stick with a needle on the end into her leg and pressed a button. Immediately, the pain in her leg ebbed slightly. She yanked the chair leg out of the wound and the pain returned. She injected another dose of painkiller to sooth it out again and bandaged up her wounds. Staggering slightly, she got to her feet and opened a weapons locker. Within were numerous pistols and various clips of ammunition and power packs for them. They were an assortment of greys and browns. Except one. It was white, and strangely circular. Donnel pulled that down now. Then, making an impromptu crutch out of a tall lamp-pole, she hobbled towards the exit.

Anders was viewing the schematics through his ear stud again. Thus, he didn├óÔé¼Ôäót realise Taylor was following him until she tapped him on the shoulder. He nearly shot her by accident. He flicked the schematics view of and turned around.
├óÔé¼┼ôYes?├óÔé¼┬Ø He asked
├óÔé¼┼ôWhere are we - ├óÔé¼┬Ø
Suddenly the shrill tone of the mansion├óÔé¼Ôäós alarm systems drowned out their conversation. Taylor swore. The two troopers behind her raised their weapons to their shoulders and looked about themselves for the source of the noise.
Anders looked around too. Donnel. She├óÔé¼Ôäód broken free. She must have. He turned to Taylor and her two troopers.
├óÔé¼┼ôFollow me!├óÔé¼┬Ø

***

Galvern watched the train hurtle towards the Storm Trooper cordon. She tried switching to the x-ray viewer. She couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót tell who was who, but it would be useful. It was hard to see through the metal of the train├óÔé¼Ôäós shell, but she could make out the skeletal form of a writhing body in the driving cabin. Her guess about the glass had been right. She moved the scope back slightly (or rather, slowed her tracking of the train so that it moved along the view of her scope). A figure was rushing towards the cabin, no doubt realising something was wrong. The figure (x-ray mode made telling genders apart difficult) rushed into the cabin and was blown back by the wind. Then figure regained their footing and clambered forwards and hit a button. Immediately, the train stopped, or tried to. It├óÔé¼Ôäós wheels locked and sparks flew. If she was close enough, Galvern would probably have been able to hear the sound of screeching metal. At the distance she was at, however, she heard nothing. Then something gave, and the train stopped. Magnetic brake systems, probably. She might have known. If you had a private train, why not make sure it can run well?

Adams squinted against the wind. It was blowing from behind him now, giving him a slight boost of speed that the skiff didn├óÔé¼Ôäót particularly like as he sped towards Montoya├óÔé¼Ôäós train. Then, all of a sudden, his nav computer bleeped a collision warning. Distracted, Adams looked down to see that Montoya├óÔé¼Ôäós train had suddenly stopped. He hit hard on the brakes, but a speeding skiff is hard to slow down. It has no ground friction to slow it, and Adams had the misfortune of having strong winds behind him. The skiff squealed, and one of the side fins ripped off, causing it to list. It was hopeless. The rear of the mono-rail train came up in front of Adams fast. He moved up onto the bonnet of the skiff as it approached the train, crouching like a coiled spring. Just before the skiff slammed into the rear compartment he jumped forwards, smashing through the rear window and rolling as the skiff crashed into it, denting the metalwork. Thankfully, it didn├óÔé¼Ôäót explode. It├óÔé¼Ôäós engines died and it fell off the rail.
Adams, winded, gasped for breath and got onto his knees. The cabin was a plain one. Bare metal walls with a curved ceiling. A red carpet ran the lane between the row of seats than adorned each wall. The wind howled through gaps rent in the metal of the rear wall, but despite this, it seemed eerily quiet, so extreme a contrast to the whirling howl of the blizzard outside.
Grasping one of the seats for support, Adams got to his feet and checked his side. Two of his ribs were broken, and his left arm fell at an odd angle, through strangely, he could still move it. His pistol had disappeared, but he still had his sword. He drew that and headed towards the door into the next carriage.
The next one was the same as the last. Adams walked through that into the next one. That two was empty and like the other two. Then he entered the fourth carriage. The howl of the wind was louder here. Ahead of him was the driving cabin, it├óÔé¼Ôäós door shut. One of the side doors was open, and the emergency rope ladder deployed. Adams looked down. Footprints were visible heading away from the train into the woods and towards the Storm Trooper cordon. It was a short drop into a soft layer of snow. Adams jumped down and landed with a soft plop. He dug himself out of the snow, ignoring the pain in his side and set off at a brisk jog. Then he stopped and started checking over the tracks. They were fresher now. Six sets of prints. They spread out slightly, fanning away from being a tight group. Dispersing, the better to slip through a net.
There wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót much time. He couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót let Montoya reach the town or the spaceport!

======
PRODUCTION NOTES:
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lightning / Stormwind mix-up fixed

Guessmyname wrote:======
PRODUCTION NOTES:
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

... quiet!

an wouldn't a skiff just jump or something? I mean, it has to be a pretty complex piece of equipment, so it hould have some basic functionalities like that and ejector seats

you should never have to use leg power when pneumatics work fine

What do you mean? When I say the skiff 'jumps', I mean it's engines gives it a burst of altitude (which can't be sustained very long to how hard it gets to control at such heights). It doesn't sprout legs and jump, if that's what you're thinking.