Crumbs
Detective Vim Lithesteel
(Art source unknown)
Index: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Unauthorized resistance
Chief Detective Naym ogled the residential cluster and pointed its gaggle of armed teenage guards to his commandos – “What is... this?”
One of them did not even speak but shrugged right before he reached for his sniper rifle, while the second replied, looking through his faceplate’s rangefinder unit – “Armed with looted but well-maintained street beamguns. Organized all proper like, quite possibly trained by somebody with field experience.”
“Looks like whoever recruited them was army. They have patrol twos and their outer perimeter looks somewhat solid.” – the first commandos scouted with his sniper’s holo-optics – “I bet my sniper there be a few hidden lookouts, heads on a swivel and PDAs ready to link for help if their residential is attacked.”
“Wasn’t this a gang lair?” – annoyed by the news, Naym inquired his Ops specialist who currently ran a thorough scan from the dropship hovering above.
The policewoman was swift to comb whatever token files Gahen Inc’s CEO had provided them with, linking a modest holo-list onto his eye lenses. In true CorpoSec fashion the report said to not bother with this section of the city since its occupants weren’t considered prospective customers. All gang-related pleas for assistance were logged in, and though these numbered in their thousands, CorpoSec did zilch. The flatfoots weren’t in the business of wasting precious resources or time for sentients incapable of offering anything of worth to their company.
“This is a militia-like squad strong troop. A mixture of young male Nara and Taksians, thirty two total.” – the second commandos continued his observation, analyzing the first batch of scan-data files streaming from the dropship – “Light beamarms only. No grenades and no armored suits.”
Giving his colleague a snarky grin, the first commando patted his sniper rifle – “Chief, we can take’em, no issue.”
Naym gave the surrounding area a long look.
His eyes were practically shining with suspicion whenever he noticed yet another of the spotters. A total of six, they were either blending in with the passers by, doing chores for coin, or selling random trinkets. Every single one had the eyes of a patrol couple, meaning that he could not simply order his policemen to snatch and use them for bait.
“Take them we could,” – grumbled the detective, as his bureaucratic mind counted all pros and cons – “yet is it even worth the risk?”
“Our scan just proved your hunch, Chief!” – the Ops technician’s elation was audible since Naym counted over a hundred children, predominantly Nara, yet quite a lot of them Taksian, lurking within various rooms and corridors of the residential.
A gentle smirk adorned Naym’s face and he needlessly fixed the visor of his uniform cap. So many promotion points in such a small and, rather vulnerable locale! Hand resting on the handle of his FBI pistol, the detective’s eyes darted across scan-data streams, mind plotting a swift building assault with all forces on hand. Using the dropship’s main cannon and turrets, at least in the initial phase of said attack, would nullify enemy cover and pin down that ad-hock militia. Easy pickings for his crack urban commandos and policemen, even if these naive fools had any friends, these would come far too late to be of help.
He’d have to link the captain of his prison ship for full retrieval though. The temporary loss of one mobile interrogation room, though unfortunate, was just a minor setback. His team could procure another bus and refurbish it quickly. What had happened to it and its crew, was another thing altogether. Though Basileck’s gangs were being rather unpleasant, Naym suspected his bus was raided by these illegal grav-car modders. However small, there was still a possibility that Mr. Flookumsh’s scary Terr’aan lurked here.
“Listen good, loyal servant militants of the Directorate. Our plan of assault is the following:” – began he, straightening his otherwise immaculate armored uniform – “Ops, initiate a short-range G-Net scramble in and around the residential, make sure that even if they sneak a link for help, it will take them plenty of time. The dropship will then deploy all members of the TCRU atop the building, and while in float mode, provide ample fire support, suppressing the ragtag militia. At the same time, our six patrol cruisers will block the street, and the policemen snatch every single kid, while dealing with the three patrols. Meanwhile, I and the TSID commandos shall storm the residential complex’s main entrance.”
More of the scan-data was being processed and it became immediately clear that there was no one in the immediate vicinity, except a couple of small gangs. Poorly armed and disorganized, these would not be as dumb as to involve themselves. Partisans, even if they sported vehicles, these wouldn’t threaten his armored dropship. Besides, both the urban commandos and his TCRU policemen were fleet of foot, well-trained for such swift assaults.
“Operational parameters, as follows.” – continued Naym, flicking his shield belt on, FBI pistol drawn and safety lever off – “If possible, retrieve some of the armed Taksian youths, and do not even bother with the Nara.”
Naym gestured nonverbal commands to his commandos – “You provide sniper cover and you, take point. Kill anyone who threatens me.”
Immediately, status replies and more data streamed on his eye lenses. Like the well-oiled Taksian retrieving machine that it was, Naym’s specialist team including the techs, and the policemen crewing interceptor grav-cars, sprang into action. He, of course, waited a few star-seconds, until the dropship roared into position, her turrets showering the residential in a torrent of particle-beams. The TCRU assault team leapt from the opened back ramp, and using their grav-belts, successfully breached the building.
Charging from every conceivable opening, including service hatches, emergency escape stairs, and windows, the twenty strong squad proceeded to systematically clear room after room, sweep through upper corridors with near frightening swiftness. Meanwhile, his interception group blocked the streets outside and, dashing forth from their grav-cars, began nabbing the children acting as spotters. Though the patrols held their outer perimeter and did indeed shoot dead a few of them, these were the least valuable men and women in Naym’s unit. They were, as all teachers of the DCPS academy always said, expendable.
When he and the commandos moved in, charging towards the residential, they were met with sporadic beamfire. By all measure, the gaggle of armed young men and the occasional adult within their ranks should have folded. However, despite many of them getting hit, suffering wounds and outright dying, they stood their ground. As if seasoned veterans, not even his commandos’ deadly weapons fire could dislodge the armed youths from their cover.
For two full star-minutes a handful of teens and their adult leader resisted with stubborn ferocity. Though they suffered multiple wounds, the pain alone should’ve send them into shock, they kept firing and took four more of his policemen. He actually had to shoot one of the children since she bolted as soon as the cops who took her died. Only after the dropship floated over and ripped them apart with her heavy turrets, could Naym actually enter the building proper.
“Chief...” – the voice of his team leader cracked in Naym’s comms – “we’ve secured the uppermost floor, but are meeting stiff resistance!”
“Losses?” – asked the detective, as he paused for a second, observing a dismembered Nara teenager whose dead face sported a most calm, happy smile.
“Some old Taksian hag surprised us and gutted one of my men with a kitchen knife. Two more were shot when a wrinkly old Nara used his own body to shield these filthy, little partisans!” – Naym listened the team commander’s with ever growing ire, over the brutal hiss of beamfire and the cries of battling men.
“Field assessment, commander.” – the detective followed in after his commandos, and with the knowledge that he had a sniper covering them, breached the building’s entrance.
“They are, somehow, pulling of a fighting retreat! Count two more standard star-minutes till we overwhelm them, Chief.” – though there weren’t supposed to be explosions, one screamed in his ear, a temporary stopper to the hiss of beams and the wails of the dying.
Hit by the shockwave, his commander’s faceplate cycled its algos and automatically switched to transmission settings. Naym witnessed a glimpse of the battle from an low angle projected upon his left eye lens. He heard and saw everything picked up by the suit’s helmet sensors. The screech of beams blasting holes in nano-restructured concrete, melting holes in metal, evaporating vacplastic and frying flesh. There were the gaggle of teens, Nara and Taksian, joined by a couple of adults, who, although overcome with fear and far outmatched by his TCRU assault team, fought with everything they had.
Someone, a Nara young man in tattered by beams and shrapnel clothing, stuck out for his gravitas. He gave his militia commands, forging order out of chaos, urging them to retreat from cover to cover, firing on the go. Jarro, they called him, Naym heard that clearly through his commander’s helmet. That, and they who stupidly resisted, they labeled themselves “Carriers”.
The Taksian bureaucrat militant did not recall anything even remotely relevant, for even with his encyclopedic knowledge, Naym could scarcely imagine a reason why anyone would call their unit thus.
However, one thing he did witness and that was the handmade chemical bombs. Primitive, yet quite effective. During his advanced training with his colleagues from the TSID, Naym was taught that certain civilizations and cultures, who sported higher than average disposition towards anti-government activities. These peoples and groups, oft forged ingenious traps and their bombs evaded conventional scans since these consisted of otherwise mundane chemicals, which when mixed produced a violent explosion.
Suddenly, a cacophony of distorted voices nearly overwhelmed his comms!
“Wait, what was that?!” – as soon as Naym shouted, Ops quickly plowed through the jamming, restoring the connection – “Chief, we have something coming on the long-range sensors. ETA five star-minutes.”
“IEDs... they... cough... have schloking IEDs!” – reported Naym’s awakened team commander, and restored his original faceplate settings – “Lost two more to the blast, but we got one of theirs.”
“Commander, call in beamfire from the dropship if you have to, but crush them as fast as you can – we have incoming!”
The detective aimed and shot at another Nara teen, a girl, who armed herself with the snub rifle of her fallen comrade. She managed to land an accurate shot, draining half his energy shield before he literally turned her to ash. In the meantime, his commandos killed two more frying their cover firing on full auto.
There it was again, that smile!
A split second before the girl burned to cinders, he saw a smirk grace her lips. After the battle, Naym was sure to ask his commandos if they’d seen the same. Though he’d seen much, and experienced the stupid resistance of many a fugitive, nothing could compare with what he witnessed now. It was not suicidal craziness, nor was it a drug-induced battlefield trance. No. This was a full, happy grin. They who smiled this way were completely convinced that their actions were right, that their sacrifice served a purpose. All servants militant of the Taksian Directorate, despised such delusional fidelity with every fiber of their honest, bureaucratic hearts.
When his mind attempted to recall a piece of essential information, there was no delay or hesitation. In an instant, Naym remembered one of the newest briefings which his superior gave a star-day before he set on this mission. Something about the so called Terr’aan war liars, this presentation was based upon a combat report from the field. On some unnamed asteroid, a ragged band of ex Corpo slaves bested a full battalion of veteran enforcers. He barely believed it then, yet now, witnessing a display similar to what was in that report, Naym winced.
“Ops, the Terr’aan life signatures, the ones which Gahen Inc. supplied us with...” – timber raised and mind agitated, he was quick to act upon his suspicions – “Scan that incoming vehicle and scan it good!”
Naym gestured at his commandos, ordering him forward as soon as the second urban fighter re-positioned closer, so he could continue to provide sniper support – “We must box in these crazed fools in before their reinforces arrive.”
The speed with which TISD men advanced was blinding quick. The detective was well-trained, but he was aware of his limitations and trailed a bit behind, eyes and ears alert. Up until now, Ops fed all of them active scan-data so they knew mostly where their enemy hid. Their dropship switching on to long-range scanning by his order, could no longer offer such assistance. Though their victory was assured thanks to superior weaponry, training, and experience, their ragged foe was bound to score a few more, pointless wins.
“Commander, set your scans to chem signatures K5-fg and 09-H! These are the two compounds these partisans used to make their IEDs.” – Naym gave his assault team instruction, before they were smashed by another bomb – “Do not bother trying to capture them anymore. I will authorize all of your power pack expenditures!”
The trained policeman, Naym could almost hear him smile from ear to ear behind his faceplate when this one snickered – “Prosperity through obedience!”
Himself, he made sure to produce his own hand scanner and set the parameters to automatic ray ping. They could not surprise him with nasty bombs now, yet still, the directive made sure to use a power pack and recharge his shield belt. Over-reliance to support networks and henchmen was the doom of many a sciencecrat, therefore, Naym made sure to not only equip himself properly, but study the errs of his peers.
Then and there, he should’ve remembered once more the existential dread of Mr. Flookumsh. Indeed, his knowledge of the Munmsians was sufficient and recently updated, yet it constantly clashed with his DCPS training, the reality of many recovery missions, the constant victories over organized and well-armed partisan groups. Naym had every right to assume his preparedness and numerous, experienced policemen were precaution enough.
His assumptions were shattered.
Running after his commandos, using a corridor the windows of which were under sniper fore from his second urban fighter, Naym was met with what he thought a suicide charge. A young Taksian man lunged himself, IED in his one remaining hand, straight at the commando, who promptly mowed him down. They’d seen that bomb getting primed on their scanners and were aware of the attack’s direction, yet what they were not, was what occurred next.
For the next two star-minutes, Naym and his specialist became pinned down by five partisans. It was as if these youths were keenly aware that their opponents would reset scan frequencies and prioritize the bombs! They managed to use this window of opportunity and crawl through the residential’s service ducts. Naym and his commandos found themselves boxed in and suffered multiple beam hits, effectively stalling their rapid advance.
The FBI pistol proved its worth because when the detective re-calibrated his hand scanner to pinpoint the enemy, he melted cover and two zealous militiamen alike. Using his scan-data stream, the commandos performed a combat feat of speed, employing his sidearm and killing the other two in point-blank range.
One... only one single floor remained between Naym and the partisans’ rear!
“Chief, I dare say we should pull back!” – his Ops technician sounded concerned when she delivered her scan report – “That craft... it does indeed carry a Terr’aan and he is of the Humeian race.”
“Nonsense,” – shouted back he, running up the stairs, the armored back of his commandos in front – “we have plenty of time.”
“B-but the craft is already here!” – panic creeping in her voice she linked Naym scan-data of the modded vehicle and he stopped dead in his tracks – “I do not know who pilots this monstrosity, but they somehow managed to double their speed!”
Taking a peek through the third story window, the detective observed how this armor-clad vehicle painted neon yellow, plastered in grav-car part manufacturer decals, assaulted his patrol cruisers. It shrugged off their ineffective weapons fire, its pilot outmaneuvered them, while the dump barge’s otherwise low-yield tractor beam projectors mauled them like fists invisible. Ripped to pieces, some of which were smashed into other interceptors, the grav-cars were turned into scrap. Beam turrets rolled under angled sheets of armor, blowing molten holes in their engines, shooting individual policemen on the street dead with pinpoint accuracy.
It was over in but a few star-seconds, yet the carnage felt like slow motion to him.
“By the Name of Our Eleemosynary Chancellor!” – Naym refused to believe his eyes when the extensively modded and armed to the bulkheads dump barge barreled straight at his dropship without a single star-second pause or hesitation.
Her crew had no time to chat since they were fighting for their lives. Armor glancing a number of hits and their own cannon blasting beams at this dump barge of doom, another duel rained molten metal upon the streets and shook the residential. Indeed, what should’ve been a done deal, a heavily armed Corpo issue dropship against someone’s grav-truck full of street mods. Pilot, gunner, and, as it soon turned out, mechanics alike made a mockery of Naym’s crew!
Hit multiple times, its Gerry-rigged armor-plating melting under the heavier dropship beamguns, nevertheless, the dump barge dished out a hail of fire in return. Yet, it was the tractor beam projectors, employed in such a precise, ingenious way, that enabled the pilot to outmaneuver the dropship. Used not to rip but punch, turrets and cannons were crushed, armor became mangled and wings torn. Though burning and having lost most of its improvised armor and weaponry, the dump barge proceeded to ram the heavily damaged dropship!
Mouth agape, Naym watched how that modified monstrosity rose from the crash, overpowered grav-drives screeching, burning bits of armor peeling off its hull, as it rotated token few turrets and tractor beam projectors to aid the partisans.
The Taksian then observed a towering, rad-coat clad, spacesuit wearing figure being catapulted by way of tractor beam straight towards the residential, a blackish assault rifle in hand.
Once more, his overwhelmed mind saw this in slow motion. Of course, the commandos immediately attempted to shoot that person dead with his sniper rifle. In a feat, which Naym believed impossible even for the trained and experienced urban fighters, the man’s oldish rad-coat soaked the beam as he swirled mid flight to shoot the sniper. A fiery, thundering projectile found the commandos and transformed his armored torso into mush, shattered metal, and burning vacplastic. The man then breached the polyglass window legs first, landing without a hitch or suffering any damage whatsoever.
The TCRU assault team—this man was attacking their rear!
“Chief, orders... I request updated orders!” – Roaring in his ear, boomed the clangor of that alien weapon joined by screams of dying policemen – “Our beams can’t even breach his coat!”
“Help,” – gargled one of his troopers – “he is... killing us!”
Uniform no longer immaculate, hat tilted to the side, dusty, sweaty Naym ran up the stairs, reloading his overpowered pistol on the move. His conditioned mind was agitated beyond measure. Instead of tactical cerebration, memory photographic, in his ears rang the words of that filthy little girl:
“Trash man... wheeze... gon’na... cough... come... wheeze... for you.”
(╭ರ_•́)
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One Humain Teeeraan against a tacsquad. Those are just about fair odds.
The Trashman is coming for you!! I love it. Epic battle.