The Trader and the Mercenary
Chapter One: The Trader and the Mercenary
Captains Log: 23456
Year:26488
Day:178
Distance Traveled: 2755 lightyears
/logstart/
“Vast”
“Dark”
“Dangerous”
“So many words, yet none describe space. The silent void which I dare to venture. Only my ship to accompany me, I stare out at the stars and see infinity, yet cannot describe what I view. To travel the stars, to explore, to meet, to wonder. I have done it all. Im old, too old. The brisk age of 78. Been a trader, merc, maper, pilot, gunner, and a dozen other jobs during my life. Too many.”
The old female voice starts a coughing fit, and the sound of something beeping flares up, only a whisper compared to the cough. The rustle of fabric and the jingle of metal is heard, then the sound of water being consumed. A few seconds pass until the voice starts up again.
“Damn radiations seeping through again. I ain’t got long now. Im crashed on some rock out in the Solis Zone, got no food or water left, airs fine, but Im near a old derelict Solar Empire frigate. Reactors cracked or somthin. Cargo is safe, Zicronium cases, radiation is nothing to it. Heh, always thought that the vacuum of space would be the end of me, now look, a million miles from anything, in a rust bucket I love, doomed to die with no one knowing. I wonder if my kids will care. Galix won’t, but im sure Iron will look for me, and Diamond will too if Iron does. Damn I miss you, and if your listening to this, I love you all, oh god what I would give to say that to you right now. I love you kids so much.”
The beeping intensifies, and cursing can be heard under the scream of the alarms. The sounds of buttons being pressed is amplified by numerous warning systems going off. The rumble of engines is heard over the sounds of yelling.
“I have to go but always know that I love you no matter what! Im going to a better place! Ill always and forever love you! I just cant say it enough! Star Shimmer sighing off!”
The recording ends and is replaced with static.
________________________________________________________________________________________________
The sounds of one of the cellist Octavia’s solo performances played smoothly in the background, a stark comparison to the bloody scene splayed before the speaker. The bodies of ponies lay on a growing pool of blood, their eyes staring empty into the once lavish room, now burnt and pocketed with holes.
At the back of the room, behind a lithian wood desk sat the last surviving member of the Lapis family, the third most powerful mob family in the galaxy. His name was Looping Lapis, a name that people feared. He was quite tall for a pony, and his slender hands played nervously on the gold medallion around his thin neck. He was skinny, but in no way frail, something ponies either learned quickly or regretted later. The suit he wore was of the highest quality, fitting his body like a glove. His eyes darted from the gun to its wielder in the doorway in a rhythmic fashion.
‘You wont get away with this” Looping said mater-of-factly
The figure in the doorway said nothing, only stared at him from behind a slate gray gas mask.
“Your gonna kill me or what?” his voice sounding worried
The figure lowered the large rifle, raised his arm and pointed at the medallion, tossed a small pouch onto the desk, and pointed at it.
“What? Y-y-you want my medallion?” his voice seeming to grow smaller.
The figure nodded, raising the gun again.
“But why wou-“ he was cut of by a large bang, a hole appearing mere inches from his head on the wall behind him.
Looping yelped and hesitantly removed the small gold jewelry piece, sliding it into the bag. The figure moved from the doorway, slowly walking to the desk. Now in better lighting, Looping could see that the figure was a male, around 6 feet tall, with a thick build, added onto by the combat armor he wore. The armor it self was rather simple, a shell of light but durable metal tarisium, painted slate gray with a band of orange going down the middle of the left shoulder pads. Underneath was an airtight bodysuit, grey with black where the shell connected. A bandolier looped around the body, filled with pouches and spare ammunition. The rifle he carried was about a meter in length, and shaped like a suitcase with a square chunk in the middle removed.
The stallion picked up the pouch and turned to leave, but stopped about half way to the door, pulled something form his belt, and placed it onto the floor. Several beeps emanate from the device, then goes silent. The figure begins walking again until a voice stopped him.
“Who paid you? Im going to die, at least let me know who.”
The figure turned, and spoke the last words Looping would ever hear.
“The highest bidder.” droned a metallic voice.
With that, the mercenary left, leaving the last surviving member of the Lapis family alone, afraid, and surrounded by the bodies of the dead, only to soon to become one of them. The last thing he noticed was that he couldn’t hear Octavia’s music anymore.
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
The sounds of classical floated through wasn’t halls and rooms of the Phosphorus Sky, giving the ship a feeling of homeliness and age. The engine hummed a quite tune, the sound quite compared to the snores of the sleeping crew. The only one awake stood on the bridge of the ship, looking out into space. He saw the station that he and his team had entered not two hours ago, floating peacefully high above the planet. He saw the ships going too and from the station. He saw the planet that sat far below the station. He saw the endless cosmos that he inhabited.
This is where he felt at home. This is where he made his living. This is where he was born. This is where he would die. This is what he was good at.
And he didn’t mind that one bit.
“Heh, I knew I’d find you up here”
The voice came from the Sky’s first mate, Steam Stampede. He was a short unicorn pony from the Polis Sector, with red fur and a short cropped hazelnut mane, deep orange eyes and a thin scar running down from his left ear to his cheek. Raised on a high gravity plant farm, he was extraordinarily smart, could lift a Cyphrixian Bull, and could kick in a door made of titanium. But his most prominent feature was his love for machines, and after joining the New Lunar Republics Engineering corps, he quickly climbed the ranks to a officer, even serving on the flagship Archimedes.
“Your gonna kill your self Iron, you haven’t slept for the past two days.”
Iron just grunted, the bags under his eyes seeming to grow with the motion. The ships auto pilot adjusted its course, causing the worn out captain to stumble. Steam quickly rushed to catch his best friend, grabbing him as if he was a feather. Steam began to drag the dreary captain out of the room, Iron making no movements to stop him. The time it took to get to the captains room seemed to go on forever for Iron, the world around him bending and warping, sounds echoing around him.
Steam knew that the captain was worried, he had seen it before on Trexis, when they were caught in the crossfire between Solar Empire Centurions and Republic Lunite Shock Troopers. He wasn’t worried for himself, but for the crew. He knew each one by name, and they looked up too him when the going got rough, and it often did. They were all soldiers of fortune, and they answered to no one but them selves and their brothers in arms.
Iron himself was a pegasus, tall and muscular from years of fighting and traveling. Dark brown fur and emerald green eyes, with a deep gray mane. He had scars and wounds across his body, many so old that they were barely visible. His wings, earlier hidden by the airtight combat armor, now showed, muscular and proud. they were like any other wings, accept the tips were black instead of brown.
Steam opened the door to the captains room and took in the interior. The walls were lined with Equestrian Oak, giving the feeling of a house instead of a ship. Trophies adorned the walls, ranging from weapons to mounted heads, to pictures of Iron and his squad from when he served as a Lunitar in the NLR, a title he kept even though he was offered promotions several times.
Dragging Iron to his bed, removing his boots, covering him, and leaving took almost no time at all. The captain was sleeping before he hit the pillow
The rhythm of cannons and guns is a constant companion on Telis Prime, both ally and enemy to all who venture to the scrap covered planet. A world that is an entire junkyard, spotted with recycling centers, producing millions of tons of valuable materials every day, is often considered a strategic point of interest. The rat-tat-tat of Solar Empire G-32's, a bang from the NLR's Cannons, even the occasional whirring of a Gryphon's Crowglyf. The orchestra of death played to this worlds unwilling crowd with a fanatic joy.
Suicide was a commonplace on this front. Too many friends die, no sleep due to the roar of weapon fire, the ever-present sun blocking cloud of industrial fumes. Nothing grew on Telis, which meant food had to be shipped in, from space. The space that houses a daily genocide of sailors aboard the ships sent to hold the planet. Starvation, sickness, dehydration, all common on Telis.
The thick slurry of mud and runoff swamped around Slivers boots, immobilizing him. A grunt of frustration escaped his throat, fallowed by a curse as he dropped to the ground at the sound of bullets singing over the trench he occupied. The hail stopped in seconds, only to be responded to with the report of fire from the trenches. Sliver was still digging out his boot by the time the skirmish stopped. The gloves he wore were soaked, adding to his glum mood. He would have to wait for some time for new ones.
The line of troops was signaled to continue, causing the stallion behind Sliver to grab and wrench him out of the ground. A quick thanks, and the line began inching forward again. Sliver never expected this when he joined the Solar Empire Armed Forces, the posters at home showed the Centurions taking over entire planets just by landing on them, their enemy's will so frail they surrendered on sight. He knew better now, he had seen a Gryphon Berserker tear the limbs off his late platoon commander after taking a shotgun blast to the face. On Telis Prime, there was no rules in combat, only blood and pain.
Another burst of rifle fire caused the column to duck into the trench. A call to return fire sounded over Sliver, and he began to peak over the lip if the trench. The mussel flash was pointed away from him, towards the front of the line, and he could see the faceplate of a NLR Lunite. The metallic gloss reflected the bursts of the assault rifle. Sliver raised his standard issue G-32, a light semi-auto rifle, took aim, and held his breath. His finger moved to the trigger, but he paused.
He never shot any one before, let alone killed. He pondered on this until the sound of bullets came closer. He remembered he was in this war for a reason, to protect his family. The image of his little sister flashed before his eyes. Time slowed, and he heard a click, the click of the trigger. His finger seemed to have moved on its own, the flames already shooting out of the barrel. He felt his weapon jerk backwards, and the crack of the round leaving the barrel.
The Lunite began to slump over, their visor cracked. A small blue glow emanated from the helmet, slowly darkening. The line seemed to relax, knowing that they were no longer under fire. Hushed murmurings spread quickly, most on the topic of desertion if this happened again. Sliver tried to ignore it, but he had thought of it as well. He was tired, his once dark red hair now black and brown, his green eyes carried a weight of sadness, and his orange fur was ruffled and burnt. He raised his hand to his face, and looked at what he had done.
"Did I just kill?" he thought, the sight of the dead Lunite causing his stomach to churn.
He quickly bent over and emptied his stomach. He was immediately hit with a wall of regret and grief. His vision blurred, and he began to fall. He felt an arm wrap around his chest, catching him. Several seconds passed, and his sight restored. He looked up to see one of his squad stand him back up. It was Jaeger, the grizzled heavy weapons veteran. The look of sadness and understanding passed across his face, only to be quickly replaced by a smirk.
Jaeger's deep voice hit his ears like a tsunami, "You did well kid, nice shot".
Sliver quickly regained his balance, and nodded in response. The line was moving again, and sliver quickly saw they had taken a casualty. It was Rainy Sky, from first platoon, the mud already dragging him into the wasteland of trash and bones. He hated this place, even more than the NLR. This wasn't war, this was torture, pure and simple. He was going to get off this world, even if it meant death for desertion. No one was going to stop him.
Not even Celestia.