Crumbs

Detective Vim Lithesteel

(Art source unknown)

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Index: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 12

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Chapter 11

Neon yellow justice

“Noila,” – Vim’s voice sounded much too calm as he attempted to wipe her tears with a clean vacfoam handkerchief – “slow down and tell me exactly what happened.”

“Dhat truck...” – she barely took a proper breath before shouting – “Pipsqueak’s truck... ghot shot... b-by dhem... Takers!”

Lithesteel winced – “The DCPS are a capable foe. Knowing that if that bunch came here, they would intercept a few of the food trucks and snatch an orphan or two, I prepared beforehand.”

“Prob’ly injected liddle sis wif traitor serum, beating and...” – cried Noila, trembling like a leaf.

When her eyes finally focused through the tears, she noticed his smile.

“Weit, weeeeit... Ya said ‘pripeired biforehand’?”

The Terran showed her a map of Basileck projected from his PDA. There, a good number of holo-dots roamed around, but most were clustered at the location of ‘My cozy room’. He clicked on one of the signals, enlarging an area over the city. With the aid of his still relatively dry handkerchief Noila wiped the rest of her tears and sighed a sigh of relief. Behind the tracer number there read “Pipsqueak.”

Also, the signal was on the move, its speed indicated the girl was in a flying vehicle.

“I bought those new shoes and made sure all had a tracer on them, one made from stealth composites.” – Lithesteel explained as he reached for a small arms crate with CorpoSec’s logo sprayed over with the circled letter M in blue space paint, grabbing a bunch of standard issue sidearm power packs – “Cycled their signals through the city’s poorly monitored and filtered public Insta-type nodes.”

“Whut is dhat number next to ‘er name and why it keephs changin’?!” – terror crept back in Noila’s voice when she observed said numbers rolling down with ever increasing speed.

“The life sign,” – an angry twitch danced across Vim’s face when he clarified – “shows her under a lot of mental stress and physical pain, including an overdose of mind-altering drugs in her system.”

“D-dying, is she d...?!”

Vim pocketed more and recently made longish power packs for his Warbler, handing a few and one beam pistol to Noila – “We won’t let that happen.”

“Snuul told me of your car modding frens.” – said he, swiping the holo of a dump barge on her PDA, together with a long list of ad-hock modifications and a pickup location – “I would very much like them to take a good, long look of this barge. The same one which your Cousins took the trash out from ‘My cozy room’.”

“How shoon do we need et?” – the girl asked as she loaded her new beamgun, former Corpo issue, which Lithesteel had somehow procured and while no one was looking.

“The Takers, as you call them, their leader will make his or her move soon.” – Vim showed Noila the holo-slides he’d took of one armored transport a few days earlier – “We best have that death wagon ready as early as morrow. Your cute car, swift as it is, it cannot quite face that armed DCPS dropship and come on top.”

Noila wasted no time and gave her “frens” a link, asking them to work as fast as they could. As she waited for their reply, her eyes darted from one mod to another and though they were in a bad spot, clicked her tongue. A power core nearly five times larger was clearly needed to energize all the massive truck grav-drives which were to replace the original engines. Complete realignment of the dump barge’s six tractor beam projectors transformed these low-yield devices into starport regulation compliant emergency grapplers.

An array of automatics and long coils of plasma cables were to be installed, so a dozen strong particle-beam turrets could be operated from the barge’s cab. How and when were all these former CorpoSec issue security guns lifted, Noila could not know. Of course, all of this needed protection, thus the vehicle was to be clad in armor. Thick layers of materials available to most civilian factories and docks, this would provide jury-rigged protection even against a DCPS gunship cannons... for a time.

Fists shaking, Noila gave him that gaze Vim learned to translate without a thought, and he said – “You drive, I shoot.”

“Snuul and Reen?” – she tracked his mechanical hand movements, as he continued to click more power packs on his spacesuit’s mag slots.

Lithesteel nodded her towards the office’s rear door – “They are at Almi’s safe house, barricaded and armed to the teeth.”

Night made the megacity glow in billions of holo-lights, as grav-cars flickered in its sky, their whistling engines forging a song of impending debauchery, concealed criminal intent, street food dashes, or just a trip back home gone ballistic. Some would chase and others be chased after, a gathering of sentients on their way to either meet the Reaper or enable His work. Others, unbeknownst to them, were on their merry journey to be born, either at a hospital, a hostel cube-room, or a dirty hanging street at the boundaries of cybernetic sanity.

Grav-drive purring, Noila’s micro-car swooped through the air like a viciously wholesome neon yellow kitten made of nano-enhanced steel and vacplastic. The girl had flipped a makeshift switch which said “Teh Floatz”, previously hidden under her dash compartment. In a moment, her car’s engine sound changed from a cozy purr into a loud roar. Eyes slanted and teeth gritting, her accelerator floored, she pushed another button, zapping straight through a CorpoSec air checkpoint.

The flatfoots were so stunned, that when they finally checked their scanner it was far too late for them to give chase.

“No matter how ‘ard dhei try,” – Noila answered Vim’s raised eyebrow – “dheir crappo cars can’t catch me nahw.”

“What about interception?” – Lithesteel pointed out a duo of CorpoSec patrol cars flying on a convergent vector net on her vehicle’s integrated scanner.

“Nahw ye sees’em...” – the girl began overheating her vehicle’s sensor transponder emitting a scan frequency muffler preventing the coppers from tracking her by scanner – “Nahw ye don’t.”

Lithesteel prepped his spacesuit’s grappling hook and folded the rad-coat neatly under his seat. As soon as they came into view of the armored grav-bus which carried Pipsqueak, he readied himself to leap atop, yet halted almost immediately.

“Unmarked civilian grav-cars.” – he pointed two suspicious vehicles that flew way too close to that bus, drawing his Warbler – “Do these not look like former CorpoSec patrol cruisers to you?!”

“Real powuh’ guzzlers, dhei most certainleh are!” – and Noila pointed out some of their features – “Arnium steel reinforced carapace an’ thicker ‘nergy windshield, weak rear left end grav emitter.”

“Fly me closer then.” – Vim slid his faceplate shut as he switched the safety lever of his beamgun.

Noila proceeded to buzz past and rotate underneath one of the cars, while the detective emptied one entire power pack in its underbelly. Blowing a thick trail of orange smoke and blueish plasma flames, the patrol car barreled down, its two Taksian occupants desperate to escape their doom.

While the girl was flying her gradually overheating car away and around the second patrol interceptor, its crew aimed to evade their fellows’ fate. The passengers, two of them, one armed with a beam rifle and the second, a snub gun, unleashed a barrage of fire, as their driver actively maneuvered to deny Noila a view of his car’s belly.

Easier thought than done.

Their CorpoSec issue vehicle, though sturdy on the outside, it quickly proved under engineered on the inside. Just as she said, power guzzling systems like that thick energy windshield not only caused extra drag, slowing what was supposed to be a speedy interceptor, but fed its underwhelming heatsink more heat. It was like an out of breath angry elephant trying to give chase after a cheetah. In half star-minute, Noila made it under the patrol cruiser, and Vim delivered a burst of beams to its weak grav-projector undercarriage. Instead of slowing down and eventually crashing somewhere below, this time the vehicle outright exploded. Flaming bits of polyplastic and Arnium steel formed one small death flower, before everything became part of the thick, grayish clouds.

Hit by the few particle-beams which managed to find her speedy frame, Noila’s scarred car maneuvered closer to the bus. Two automated turrets made themselves present as soon as Vim opened his door and he was immediately forced to empty another power pack at one of these or risk getting riddled with burning holes from head to toe.

Aiming his left arm at the grav-bus, Vim prepared to lock on the grappler – “Circle around and away from the second turret underneath! I’ll give you a sign when I have her.” – shouted he and launched in the air.

Though one beam managed to graze his suit and two more bounced off Noila’s car, the boarding maneuver was successful. Until the moment his magboots clinked atop the bus and an armored hatched swung open, revealing one assault beamgun wielding Taksian policeman. Clad in an armored DCPS uniform, this servant militant of the Directorate was dead serious when he attempted to beam Lithesteel dead.

Suddenly forced to dangle on his grappler, the detective smashed hard into the bus’s hull, and more than once. However, his would-be executioner had emptied his weapon and, demonstrating apt tactical reasoning, the Terran risked landing atop the bus. Only one of his magboots locked, grappling cable flailing around, nevertheless he proceeded to blast the copper dead with a barrage of beams of his own.

Quicker than most in his position, Vim mag-walked towards that open hatch, locking his overheated Warbler and drawing the sidearm on the move. Though a second Taksian copper attempted to ambush him, aiming a beastly TEC gun at his torso, feet firmly maglocked to the roof, Lithesteel’s reaction and aim were vastly superior. Knowing much about weaponry, the Terran could count that TEC gun’s slow charge rate even without thinking about it. He ducked away from a haphazardly fired, thick pinkish beam, and emptied one entire power pack with vicious swiftness. Head turned into a gory blob of charred flesh and blackened bone, the servant militant slumped inside, leaving just enough space for Vim to board the bus proper.

Snatching the TEC gun on the move, a boarding short-range beam weapon used by one of the more secretive Space Pirate clans, the detective angled his body so the welcoming party would not get an easy target to shoot. Indeed, there was a third copper who waited for him, and, pistol aimed, opened fire. Vim was not sure who exactly trained these Taksians, but their accuracy against moving targets was lacking. Though he took another beam to his chestplate, Lithesteel landed inside, blasting that lone DCPS servant to bits with his looted TEC gun.

He checked the driver’s cab first and made sure that the grav-bus was flying on autopilot. Before he continued further, Vim switched his hand scanner and gave the surroundings a good ping. Leveling the brutally powerful TEC weapon, he shot the rest of its power pack bar one charge at the wall, frying it and the two coppers who leaned at it to death. Uncaring, the detective ripped his way through, maglocking the TEC on his back, beamgun and vibroblade in hand.

He appeared at the beginning of a tight, gory corridor, an interrogation room at its end. This being a grav-bus refurbished for holding and interrogation of prisoners, most of its space was occupied by cells. Since the scan showed him all were empty, and he already knew there were five more coppers ahead, Vim dashed forth with his best speed. There was no possible way for him to be ambushed again, nor surprised, and these cells offered plenty of cover. Making sure to blast their control panel so the DCPS flatfoots could not use it and lock him in one of the cells, the detective engaged in a most vicious assault.

Firing their snub beamguns at him on full auto, the three coppers in command of the corridor made their best attempt at killing him dead. Wasting some of his spacesuit’s fuel, the Terran flew straight at their inaccurate beam bursts, firing yet another full power pack at them. He’d outright fried one to death and wounded another when finally, his vibroblade sang its bloody song. Cleaved to bits, the two joined their fellow interrogators coloring their mobile prison red.

To be exactly sure, the man once more produced his hand scanner and gave the next space a good scan. Now knowing exactly what he’ll see when the interrogation room’s door slid open, Vim readied himself. Reloading the beam pistol with its last power pack, he assumed his best shooting stance. Aiming his gun by scanner, he used it to hack the door controls since the two policewomen inside locked themselves.

The door opened.

Bravely hiding behind the little girl, the first screeched a warning – “There is no victory against the DCPS!” – and the second promised – “Disarm this instant or the little thought criminal dies!”

Lithesteel did not waste even a star-second of thought formulating a reply.

He fired twice, hitting their guns without fail.

Effectively disarmed, the policewomen scurried frantically away from his towering figure, in some vain attempt to escape their inevitable doom. Vim blew their legs and arms away with the rest of his power pack. Sliding across the bloodied interrogation room floor as they wailed in torturous pain, the two were ignored as Lithesteel injected the little girl with a life-saving dose of medigel. He then proceeded to cut her shackles with his vibroblade, wrap her in a clean vacfoam towel, and carry her away from the room.

“Noila, pick us up from the roof in ten secs!”

Just as he leapt up through the roof hatch, Vim fired the last shot of his looted TEC gun at something behind him. Its main power distribution node slagged, the bus’s grav-drive became a useless lump of metal. Overheating from the cascade power failure, the reactor core began melting everything around itself. Slowly careening down due to its immense mass and inertia, the bus nevertheless stood moderately leveled, while Lithesteel used his engines to leap off and land inside Noila’s car, little girl safely bundled up in his hands.

Neither the DCPS nor CorpoSec found out exactly what happened, at least not quickly enough since the torture bus and its two limbless passengers burned to bits in plasma fire.

(╭ರ_•́)

Though a new dawn was rising upon the megacity of Basileck, few of its denizens would know it then. Career obsessed Corpo bureaucrats had not the time to feel the city’s pulse, and their families simply did not care. The CorpoSec flatfoots, though a bit more on the aware side, they too felt utterly inadequate when it came to sniffing out the winds of change. Gangbangers, they may have had streetcred and connections, yet failed to keep track of things other than their own gang-related info loop.

Everyday people who made the wheels of Basileck turn; the truck and taxi drivers, the starport workers, the maintenance men, and yes, the ladies of the night, caught wind of what their friends and family would later dub “Rise of the aftermarket avengers”. Those with sense of how certain and rather important grav-vehicle related things were ran, they knew even more. Crews of mechanically apt Taksian and Nara runaways formed an underground network for recycled grav-car parts, which aimed to offer enterprising city residents a much safer vehicle acquisition and modification choice. Instead of being forced to deal with the predatory car thieving gangs or Universe forbid Gahen Inc., one could buy and modify a vehicle of their choice and for cheap.

Early morn, a group of merry streetwalkers on their way home noticed a large dump barge being hastily floated inside a concealed street garage. Weary mechanics hushed the women, telling them to keep it on the low low, at least for another few hours. These ladies, having had relations with the modders or grav-crews as they were known among them, were quick to spread rumors among other members of their profession the very star-second their promised time limit ticked away. Good-natured, well-paying customers were hard to find and even harder to keep. Soon, the megacity’s underbelly was abuzz with rumors of long delayed justice, Taksian Takers and Corpo goons getting soon to be beamed or cleaved to death.

Vengeance-promising aura shrouding its hull like a cloak, the dump barge would soon rise in the air of Basileck!

That the many barrels of beam-guns were noticed sticking underneath a layer of plasma welded armor-plating.

That the grav-engines and, most important, main power core was replaced with such from a much larger vehicle.

That a tall offworlder in a gruff spacesuit, oldish rad-coat fluttering over his shoulders, was seen giving direction, a heavy assault rifle slung underneath.

That one of their own, a Taksian courtesan, she would fly this barge of doom straight into the maws of death...

(╭ರ_•́)

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