Mune'stahr and Pylott: HELLMARROW, a tale of the Ventriculum

Part 6, "All These Stars, Burning Black, Blind Our Eyes."

"It's what I'd do," Mune'stahr then commented, nodding.

"Oh," Tregg had said, suddenly embarrassed at revealing his ignorance of battlefield strategy.

"Listen," Mune'stahr had then said, turning to fully face his friends and companion as the team gathered at the inter-deck transport tube just off the mezzanine perimeter of the Bridge. "We've gathered a fair amount of urban geophysical and architectural data, but that's all pretty superficial data for staging an Away mission. You know that. There's still way too much we don't know about who or what may be alive and wandering those streets and boulevards. We don't know anything about a possible militia presence or about robotic defenses, autonomous or otherwise, and we've got to keep the shiftship out of targeting range of possible skyward-directed artillery. Bluntly put, you get into serious trouble down there and backup is going to be a long time coming for you. We don't have the full story here. Do not trust anyone or anything... Queen Infernyya Rebekkon is a homicidal tyrant and a ruthless despot. She's a criminal.  We don't owe her any loyalty. If we can prevent this Fellmanghul freak from killing her, then fine. But if the risk is too great, write her off. She's not worth dying over."

"You're not talking to a novice, Mune'stahr," Pylott said. Her voice had sounded tight. She was uncomfortable with Mune'stahr's naked display of concern for her. The timing was bad and the situation even worse. She had to concentrate on the mission. There would be other times for the mercenary and her to address the intricacies, and the depth, of their growing personal connection. She then qualified her comment to soften her words' rough edges.

"I realize our recon is woefully incomplete, but we took an oath to stand for what's right, to protect and fight for those who don't have the power to do so themselves. Just because that oath isn't to any one kingdom or government doesn't make it less binding. Back when we were troopers in service to the World-Father's Extraplanetary High Frontier Extrasolar Naval Fleet, we did some unconscionable things, bad things, simply because we were told to. Back then, the words of that oath didn't mean as much because we were puppets to the Hegemonic Emperium. But, since we've embarked on this new journey in a new universe, things are different. Here, in the Ventriculum, we stand for something. Yes, the Queen of the Paranescience is a monster, but we don't allow her to be arbitrarily tortured and murdered by other tyrannical monsters by passing personal moral judgment. We don't do things like that anymore."

"Just make it back here in one piece, okay?"

Pylott had then nodded, avoiding eye contact with her tall, muscular partner so as to not succumb to sentiment.

"What're the parameters of our roving range? And what kind of a time-frame are we looking at?" Pylott had asked as she'd fitted a pair of micro-form factor portable generators into her field kit.

"Range is northeast by southwest, moving counter-clockwise. Your time-frame? Quick," Mune'stahr had said. "We want you in and out before anyone can raise an alarm."

"Sounds good to me," Poli'Artta had remarked sardonically out the side of her mouth.

"Yeah, well you make sure you watch yourself," Klauvane Tregg had paternally chided her. "Unlike others of this crew, we're not soldiers. We're out of our depth here and everyone knows it. Don't take any unnecessary risks."

The Hexabreed warrior had solemnly added her assent to Tregg's remarks. She stole a sideways glance at Neuronia Syngulareous as the Argossyan Naval Commander had easily checked the status and preparedness of a three-lobed backpack containing portable energy pods, assorted medical supplies and climbing gear, signifying her obvious familiarity in the use of such equipment.