.png){kind=link}
Mirrorsmoke Company
- Chapter 6 -[]
<<Previous Chapter - Return to Story Index - Next Chapter>>
Vesterby
New Oslo, Draconis Combine
September, 3018
Local Time: 14:27
"Ma'am, we just want to trade!"
Usually, when you're the only general store for a couple hundred miles out, you don't tend to have the luxury of staying closed. I tapped on the door again, fruitlessly trying not to draw too much attention. The whole town had eyes on all of us, and I could feel them on me like a stinging beam of lasers. Behind their drapes and peeking between doors ajar were terrified townspeople, holding their breaths for another incident.
But some had been braver. The older people, who stood outside their wooden porches and fences just gawking at us like turret emplacements as we stood outside, patiently trying to negotiate a trade.
"I said go away! We don't sell to outsiders!" the woman inside shouted hoarsely, as if it took a significant toll on her just to speak in that volume.
Without the opportunity to get food from the farmers directly, we had decided to go to Plan B instead.
Just buying the food.
Frontier towns were heavily self-sufficient. They never needed much to survive. This far out from the clutches of civilization? You needed grit, you needed the cooperation of your fellow neighbor, and most of all, you needed a severe and abject disdain for city life. Why bother importing some fancy wine all the way from Kooken's Pleasure Pit when you could make it yourself? Why bother with HPGs and interstellar travel when your Inner Sphere is the towns around you, and the differing opinions of farmers on whose field had the better hydroponics system.
No, luxury goods were worthless in these parts. These were a hardy and practical people, so it would stand to reason they'd do all they could to make sure they could stay that way.
Hopefully, this whole endeavor wouldn't get us pinned as drug dealers. That wasn't a good outcome.
"Why don't we just leave?" Jonas began to whisper, tapping me on the shoulder. "There's no point to this shit. We're just wasting time now."
Then his twin brother spoke up, voice equally as quiet. "I agree, Dav. I ain't liking the targets on our backs. We're all out in the open and there's a lot of eyes on us."
I held up a finger to the both of them, getting them to stop talking.
"We're not outsiders, ma'am." I said in Swedish instead. I spoke slowly, stilted. Half-remembered words and sentences that only served to remind me just how much I'd lost since I was taken away. "Believe me, I know how it feels to have your life uprooted in an instant. The helplessness. The hopelessness."
Words that until now would have never left my lips. In the months that have passed, I've come to recognize that the way out wasn't to focus on the fears. You had to fight. Had to grasp at hope with whatever you had. I was in a way, a lot more courageous in what I said, especially against the Combine.
There was a pause, before the door opened just slightly. I was immediately drawn to her eyes, the first thing that showed out of the dark interior and underneath the afternoon sun. Blue met gray like a tide of smoke that made it hard for me to look away. Without the redness in the whites of her eyes and the tear stains on her shirt, I'd have even called her pretty. Younger than what I had thought she would be from the voice, though probably still older than I was. Early twenties, maybe. Reminded me a lot of Bjorna, eerily similar with the tip of her soft button nose tilted-up and those hooded eyes. Made it look as if they were distant cousins. Except, Bjorna was a lot blonder than I was, and the girl in front me had hair a shade darker than the shadows she bathed herself in.
We kept staring at each other, and for some reason I couldn't bring myself to break the silence.
Someone else did it for me.
"...Miss, I understand we're intruding at a difficult time, but we're just here to trade for food. We'll be on our way as soon as possible."
Logan tried to make himself sound younger, more innocent. A ploy that he often used to full effect to let down guards and garner sympathy during our incursions to Albany City. He was losing his touch. While he still had a lot to catch up on his height, he was already in the burgeoning stages of his puberty, what with the cracks in his voice and the way he scratched at his jaw, skin pink and itching from the hair threatening to sprout on his face.
It had to have been from the printer food. Due to an inane limitation in our printers, they could only make two kinds of foodstuffs, the gel and the loaf. The loaf were these flat mealy discs that were effectively field rations. Tasteless and crumbly in the mouth as they were, they expanded in your gut after only a few bites, though they were incredibly rich in protein and fiber. The gel on the other hand, was this glutinous paste of fats, carbohydrates and vitamins. Chewable water was the best I could describe the taste, and together they made for a balanced diet that never left us starving. Hell, some of my older kids whose nutrition wasn't the best began to shoot up like weeds after just a few weeks subsisting on the stuff.
It just couldn't help that we were so goddamn sick of them after three months of eating nothing but.
"Okay…" the girl finally said, unaware of my thoughts. She opened the door slowly, flicking on the light switch as she did so. She was trembling. A hand, or rather, a sidearm was behind her–we could tell from the sounds of its safety clicking on–as she slowly stepped to the counter, never once showing her back towards us.
We weren't the most hospitable of faces, I can agree. A gang of reprobates showing up on your doorstep all of a sudden would leave anyone's day ruined. Combine that with what happened a few days ago, anybody would be on edge. We slowly made our way inside, both parties eager to keep the distance.
The store's interior was admittedly a novel thing to see. Had us spin around looking at the various wares that even hung on the support beams and walls. There were rows upon rows of canned goods stacked high as grown men on one side, and then hand sewn clothes of all sizes folded neatly on the other. They had stools by the counter like it was a bar for patrons who wanted to mingle a bit about their day.
But the one thing our eyes zeroed in on like a pack of hungry wolves was in another room, cooled and lined in neat rows on the shelves. I heard the twins whistle in unison, and even the implacable Emil turned wide eyed at the sight. Cartons of them, all filled to the brim that the contents threatened to jump out of the boxes. Right then and there, I salivated. Felt hunger as strongly as I did all those months ago.
Produce. Fruits and vegetables of the season. They even had sweet potatoes. All of them freshly harvested and ready to be sold.
"Food." I dumbly said, as if something short circuited between my tongue and brain. I even pointed at the room like a stupid monkey, too. "How much for a few boxes worth of those?"
"Depends entirely on what you're willing to trade," the girl slowly said in Swedish. My act put a small smile on her face, if only briefly. "Though we do also take C-bills."
I looked to Logan, who nodded just as quickly as he spoke. "Medical supplies, mostly. IFAKs and such."
He reached for the bag on his back, and fished out one of the small pouches that contained a roll of stitcher-tape and medi-gels.
"Is that right?" she asked, leering just slightly. Not nearly as receptive to my brothers as she was to me. "That's not the type of stuff we–I can take. Not if it's stolen."
Logan shook his head. "Not stolen, miss. Just have them readily available."
She didn't let up, her eyes scanning towards us. "I don't believe you. A bunch of kids show up out of nowhere trying to trade medical supplies for food…"
She bent forwards slightly, a free hand pressing down on the counter as she took a few short moments examining what Logan had on his hands.
"...And it looks high quality at that," she continued, "if that stuff even works."
"I understand this might seem suspicious," I spoke up, remembering the lie that Logan had told us. "But we're just astechs, miss. It's all just surplus from a previous job we had. We're practically swimming in the stuff back in our ship."
"I'd need assurances that this isn't a scam," she huffed.
"We're not lying."
My head turned to see Emil walking up to the counter, who began to remove one of his fingerless gloves. "I can show you," he said.
He had been quiet until now, preferring to let us do the talking. Something glinted under the light. Out from one of his hidden pockets was a small throwing knife, scalpel sharp. Before I could even begin to protest, Emil hissed, drawing the knife across the palm of his hand in one swift motion.
The clerk flinched, her back fully up against the wall as she watched in muted horror from the act.
Emil had tried to move closer, the only thing physically stopping him in his tracks was the counter barring his way. Like a showman, Emil bared his hand out to his lone audience, letting the blood spill down to his wrist. With a heavy sigh, Logan was on him almost instantly, snatching the wounded hand and quickly applying the medi-gel on it.
"The gel is a fast acting anesthetic and disinfectant, while the tape clamps down on the wound as it soaks up more and more of the blood," Logan began to explain, hastily patching the cut tightly with about as much amusement as you can get from doing completely unnecessary first aid. "As you can see by my friend here, he vouches for the… effectiveness of the kits wholeheartedly."
"Canopian made," Emil gritted, impatience in his tone. "Would you like for me to demonstrate how the chest seal works? You could even shoot me with that pistol you got behind your back if you're still skeptical."
"No need for that!" she nervously sputtered, waving a free hand around. On her other hand was said gun being swiftly placed underneath the counter. It was a particularly nasty one to get shot by, too. More a handcannon than pistol, I'd wager it'd break her wrist shooting it once. Heh. She'd only need to shoot it once.
There was a tiredness in her that even sleep couldn't abate, and with a heavy sigh she slumped slightly, as if she had finally given up on hiding the weights she'd been carrying on her back.
"...Just how many do you have with you right now?" The girl hoarsely asked. Gone was the suspicion in her eyes, the only thing remaining was the bone deep exertion to do something, anything to take your mind off of whatever that's happened.
"We have a crate in our van," I piped up. I then pointed to the twins, who have quietly been putting on more and more of the shirts and hats trying to entertain themselves. They were on their third layer before I gave them both a glare and tilted my head towards the exit. Without a word they shuffled themselves outside to get the crate, all the while snickering. "Thirty kits."
I stared at her again. She'd lost somebody, that much was certain. But all I could think about was how… clean, everything was. There was nothing I could see that could indicate there even was a break in. Those bastards really did just take the women and ran, as if there wasn't anything more valuable here than the people themselves.
But why? I was missing something here, and it pissed me off.
"How long do they last?"
"Canopian made, Miss," Logan repeated. "The Magistracy makes them last for decades."
"...What about drugs?" she asked slowly, "You have something for pain, don't you?"
Logan crossed his arms. "We do, actually. Painkillers and antibiotics. Though, I'm not sure we can part with it."
"And why is that?"
His eyes narrowed. "Ignoring the fact that one wrong move would have had us shot earlier, we weren't really sure if you'd believe us that this stuff works."
She scoffed, and then pointed a finger at Emil, who gave her a glare in return. "Kid, one of you was stupid enough to cut his hand as proof your stuff is real. That tells me you're either all insane or desperate, and my bet is desperate."
The clerk continued. "Tell you what, as an apology, if you can give me the medicine along with the first aid kits, you can get your hands on as much food as you want, no questions asked."
Logan couldn't help but whistle at the deal.
But now it was my turn to be suspicious. This was the most she had ever talked, straining her voice at the mention of medicine. "Awfully generous of you. Why the sudden turnaround?"
She ignored my question. There was something behind the whites of her eyes that I couldn't quite place, like a fire lit. A desperation. "I'm serious, take as much as you can carry. Empty the damn place if you have to. Just give me the medicine."
I looked at Logan, who just rapidly nodded his head while Emil himself gave a quick thumbs up.
I sighed. Sensing that I'd been outvoted, all I could do was hold out my hand. "Fine. Looks like we have a deal, miss."
She grasped my hand and gave it a firm tug, her palm strangely as calloused as mine. She smiled. Fully smiled. "Maja. Call me Maja."
I did the same. "Dav."
We took her up on her promise. The amount of food we had pilfered from her stores bordered on outright theft. The twins were eagerly lifting the cartons by the van, the both of them munching on raw white carrots all the while. At the same time, both Logan and Emil were busy trying to fit the boxes inside in an organized manner, trying to maximize the space available to us. I wouldn't even be surprised if I was forced to drive the van with a heavy box on my lap.
Fresh produce was the most of the cargo, but we had also taken dried meat and fish, and several more of their canned foodstuffs.
All of it for the price of medical supplies the printers could make in minutes.
Maja was cradling the small latch box filled with pills and vials like an infant as she spoke. "And how much food did you say you needed?"
"Enough for a crew of fifty," I lied. We were still thirty-eight kids, but the fact of the matter was, we'd all be gorging ourselves full of anything and everything that wasn't printer food for the next few days.
It was a shame that we couldn't deal with the farmers directly. The real food wouldn't last a week.
"Hope you're not too upset. We're practically robbing you, y'know," I said, flashing her a quick smile.
Maja rolled her eyes. "Please, this is a farming colony. Everybody and their grandma has food that'll last them until the next winter."
"Still a pretty hefty price just for a bit of medicine."
"It's worth it. More than you know," she said, looking at the box intently. "They'll need this at the clinic."
"...You have somebody there? Family?"
She nodded listlessly. "My father."
I understood then. One of the first people who got hurt by the pirate scum.
I put a hand on her shoulder, gently. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."
Maja tore herself away. "Don't be. I've faced worse."
I said nothing. What could I even say to that? There was an ugly silence, one I wanted to break. Even leave if I had to. But something caught me underneath the soles of my feet. The both of us just stood there, watching my brothers work and argue.
Eventually she broke the silence first. "But then those pirate bastards came for my sister."
I kept my mouth shut. After a broken dam came the tidal wave. All I could do was hang on tightly. The least I could do was be a silent ear for someone who had done a decent thing for my kids.
"I was at a friend's at the time. Her parents locked both of us down in a hidden closet. All I could do was listen to the screams outside as they dragged the women and my sister off to who knows where."
She looked at me then, our eyes meeting. "The helplessness. The hopelessness."
"...What can you tell me about these people?" I eventually asked.
"They were loud assholes," she said, staring off into the distance. "At first, they seemed like feral dogs, sniffing around the town for a free meal and a grope. Nothing at all like the Combine patrols we'd get sometimes."
"But then?"
She furrowed her brows. "But then this woman shows up in the store. It was as if the men just got whipped into submission just by her presence. They practically stood at attention when she showed up."
No, it couldn't be.
"...She was an officer?" I asked, my gut sinking by the second.
Maja shook her head. "She acted just like them, but meaner. Like she was queen bitch. Bought a round for everybody acting like the place was a damn bar."
My hands grasped at her shoulders so fast that it startled her. "Think! Did she by any chance have any indentations–or bruises–on the side of her head?"
She nodded hesitantly. "O-on her neck I think? Now that you mention it, she didn't like moving her head all that much, like turning her neck hurt her so she just turned her body instead. Why?"
I bolted towards the exit.
"Wait! Why!?" I heard Maja shout. I ignored her, quickly rushing out, pushing my way through the twins as I made my way outside.
"Logan!" I shouted, frantically jumping down the small steps as I hurried along towards the van. My heart was beating so fast for some reason, threatening to jump out of my chest.
"What?" he said, his head peeking out of the side of the van. "What's wrong?"
"They're mercs, Logan! That's why they couldn't touch this place!"
"But that would mean–Oh shit. Oh shit…" Logan muttered as if he had just seen a ghost, pale faced and eyes wide as he came to the same conclusion as I did. He rushed inside the van, legs sticking out of the car doors as he stuck his hand for something on the side of his seat, eventually pulling out a COMP/CON pad. He proceeded to rapidly tap on the screen, almost as if in a panic.
He kept his eyes on the pad as he spoke. "I've just called the dropship closer. We need to be back at the base yesterday."
Emil almost choked on the surprise that came out of his throat. By doing that Logan was risking the dropship being pinged by ASF screens this close to civilization.
"Logan, are we doing what I think we're doing?" I asked harshly, a growl in my voice. Some inexplicable sense of rush was beginning to flow in my veins that my teeth started to chatter, my fingers trembling.
Then he showed me a logo on his pad. The symbol that everybody knew if you ever planned to leave the planet, the Kuritan Black Dragon wrapping around a sphere like a giant snake. It would have been the only place where these bastards could be.
The symbol of the Draconis Combine Port Authority.
Logan smiled. The kind of crazed smile that he only showed when a scheme was beginning to form in his head.
"Dav, ready the fireteams. We have a raid to plan!"