Ravens of Eternity

319 A Question of Dominion, Pt The Corvus Operatives shuffled the last of the hostages into the station’s main security chamber, which was more than spacious enough to hold the few hundred of them. Though it was far from comfortable, it was perhaps the most defensible spot in the entire array.

Dozens of them even picked up a few of the Gerveaux standard issue rifles that were locked up in the chamber’s armory, and guarded the entrance from the inside.

Once the doors slid all the way shut behind the last one, Freya reopened comms to the rest of their assault squad.

“Freya reporting,” she began. “Can confirm, our primary objective was not among the hostages. Which I really don’t like. There’s something off about this.”

“Agreed,” Lucifer replied. “Although it’s possible that he was identified by the Tyreia, and taken captive elsewhere. I’m not...”

“Luci?”

“Hold on, Raijin just sent me some new info.”

“I have performed a simple facial pattern analysis on every person in the station,” Raijin added. “I believe I have found our target.”

Lucifer reviewed another batch of data – mostly raw security footage from the first few hours of the attack. Ze was utterly shocked by what ze saw. Ze was forced to pause the visual feed just to confirm with hir own two eyes at what was going on.

.....

The triumvirate member’s son was most definitely in the station. However, he wasn’t among the hostages.

He was among the terrorists.

The footage showed as he tramped through the passageways in heavy power armor, and shoved multiple Gerveaux crew members around. At one point he shoved a rifle at one of their heads, and screamed at them.

Lucifer’s grimace turned flat, then ze gave a long exasperated sigh over comms.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Freya intoned.

“The target is among the Tyreian separatists,” Lucifer replied. “And it looks like he’s one of the lieutenants. Hell, he’s practically right next to the jackass leading the whole outfit.”

“Well, now we know why the Gerveaux contacted us rather than using their own internal forces. They needed this kept secret.”

“What a heap of trash,” Kali grunted. “The son of a prominent Gerveaux politician is one of these terrorist slagheads? It’s all a gods-damned joke, isn’t it?”

“We need to adjust any future agreements going forward,” Freya sighed. “We’re gonna need full disclosure from here on out. If we didn’t figure it out ourselves, this could’ve ended in disaster.”

“Agreed,” said Lucifer. “But it’s neither here nor there. Let’s go get him and his boss and clean up this goddamned mess. Raijin – what’s their loc?”

“According to current security data,” she replied, “they appear to be in Central Operations. It is at the very top of the station itself, and accessible primarily through a private gravity lift. There appears to also be a maintenance entrance hidden behind one of the wall panels.”

“Do you have eyes inside that room?”

“Hai. There are five people in robust power armor, and a dozen others in heavy combat armor. No drones or other automated security.”

“Well, that makes things easy,” said Kali. “I’ll take the front? And you take the flank?”

“Done and done,” Freya replied with a grin.

~

Inside of the stations Central Operations, a handful of terrorists in heavy combat armor toyed with a few of the terminals scattered along the sides. Not that they got very far with any of them – they simply went through the menus and messed up whatever small thing they came across.

There were more scattered around the room here and there, though they weren’t really doing much of anything, save chatting or napping. All the fighting was occurring outside, far from them, so a few felt they had absolutely nothing to worry about.

Despite that, they still kept their rifles nearby, and were ready to use them at any given moment.

Clustered around a large communications screen were the five power armored terrorists, with the grizzled old man in the center. On the screen itself were the three hooded figures of the Gerveaux Triumvirate.

Their faces were marred with worry, though they did their best not to project just how much this situation ate at them.

“I already told your pitiful, powerless admiral that the Sovereignty of Tyreia doesn’t recognize the authority of House Gerveaux here,” said the grizzled old man. “And yet you keep calling and begging me to put my arms down. Hmph. If you were made of titanium, you’d take this station back by all means necessary. But instead, you’re all proving my point. The Gerveaux are weak and spineless.”

“And yet there you are, using Gerveaux equipment to hold your position over the planet” said the Triumvirate member in the center. “If we’re weak, what does that make you?”

“Hey, if you’re going to leave your trash all over our planet, then we’ll just have to take it for ourselves. No sense in wasting this big of an opportunity, to be perfectly honest.”

“Let’s cut the blather,” said a second Triumvirate member. “We’ve all known each other for decades. We’ve been at each other’s family celebrations, dined at our respective tables, drank our wines. Why in the heavens are you acting up?

“And don’t tell us it’s about stewardship over Tyreia. You’ve all had autonomy since your annexation. The Royal Families might not own Tyreia, but every single branch still holds control.”

The grizzled old man sneered, then puffed his chest up in defiance.

“Fine,” he growled. “You wanna skip the diplomatic song-and-dance? Happy to oblige. I’m sick of paying taxes to the house. You’re squeezing the life right out of our ledgers. In the entire history of Tyreia, we’ve never seen a rate as high as you’ve pushed it. We’re goddamned angry, and we’ve had more than enough!”

“Listen, you’re not special,” said the first Triumvirate member. “Every planet, every person is paying half their earnings to the House. It was a measure that was voted in by the Gerveaux High Command – your families included! Or did you think that the Federation’s war over the colonies cost nothing? Do you think that sending our warships out there is a cost that doesn’t need funding? Don’t be a fool.”

“How the hell are the colonies Tyreia’s concern?”

“Are you mad? They’re the entire Hegemony’s concern! We claimed those planets fairly! And the Federation has been muscling their way in, as though it was theirs from the beginning!”

The grizzled old man practically blanked out of rage on hearing the word ‘Hegemony’, and his fury grew steadily as the moments passed.

“To hell with the Hegemony!” he yelled out. “Tyreia never signed on for some bloody, quintillion-ducat war! If you wanna go play soldier, then be my guest. But keep our coffers and our ledgers out of it!”

The Triumvirate members darkened when they heard the old man rail against the Hegemony. It was clear that he wasn’t going to be swayed. Not by logic or passion or negotiation. Clearly, violence was the only way forward.

“The galaxy is far bigger than you,” the member replied. “And it’s far bigger than Tyreia. You’d be wise to remember that.”

The old man simply sneered in response. But before he could open his mouth to retort, the gravity lift at the other end of the room rang a chime.

Surprise spread across the terrorists – no-one was supposed to come up! All of them turned around towards it and readied their weapons just in case. Those who were taking a nap were nudged awake, and stumbled back to their feet as anxiety filled the air.

When the circular door to the gravlift slid open, Kali and her team stepped through with their hammers in their hands. Their presence caused a wave of fear to ripple through the terrorists, though they held firm where they stood.

Clearly, they still outnumbered the team.

“Ah, I see our operatives have finally made it to you,” said a Triumvirate member. “Please, don’t mind us, and proceed with your mission.”

The grizzled old man laughed raucously.

“Six power armored soldiers?” he crooned. “That really all you could send against us? Every move you make shows just how weak you’ve become... Kill the operatives.”

They all raised their rifles and heavy machine guns and pointed them straight at Kali’s team. But before they could squeeze their triggers, an explosion rocked the side wall.

Chunks of titacrete and surroplaster flew in every direction as the terrorists closest to the blast were all thrown around by the force. Many of the terrorists instinctively flinched and protectively turned away from the blast itself.

Kali and her team immediately took the initiative and launched themselves into the stumbling terrorists.

Like before, they swung their hammers with grace, power, and precision, and completely annihilated terrorists with every strike. It didn’t matter how robust their combat armor was – they were thrown around like ragdolls from the furious blows.

Kali ran straight towards their target – the triumvirate member’s son. But instead of swinging her hammer at him, she simply slammed into him shoulder-first.

He was thrown on back with tremendous force. And before he could react, Kali kicked him in his gut. The blow was strong enough to heavily dent his power armor, and slid him across the room.

At the same time, Freya’s team charged out of the opening they had just blown open, and fired their flechette rifles into any terrorists who were still standing. Their darts ripped into the terrorists’ armor with relative ease, and perforated their bodies violently.

The grizzled old man coughed and cursed loudly as the dust settled around him. The chaos of battle had completely overwhelmed his men, though he was never one to quit.

Fear spread through him when he saw Freya advance on him. Her aggressively angled matte black armor with glowing lavender eyes looked demonic as she stepped through the dust. A deep, mortal terror struck him, and he mindlessly fired his heavy machinegun straight at her.

But to his chagrin, Freya simply evaded his full-auto burst with outstanding celerity. She dashed to the side, then charged her way forward, even as he stumbled to get out of the way. He could only watch helplessly as she spun to the side with expert timing, then sliced his machinegun in two with her blade.

Then she grabbed him with her open hand, threw him over her shoulder single-handedly, and effortlessly smashed him into the ground. As though he was merely a child.

He was slammed back-first on the floor, which knocked his head around in his helmet and dazed him.

While he recovered, Freya reared back with a fist, and brought it down on his helmet’s temple, and cracked it right down the middle. Then she grabbed it, tore it apart with incredible ease, then tossed its two halves away.

By the time his vision came back and his dizziness faded, he found himself staring down the barrel of her handcannon.

“Yield,” she intoned.

Defeated and horrified, the grizzled old man could only nod helplessly in response.