Flawed Fracture

by Katie Vack

  "Except that he doesn't seem to have a threatening bone in his body. Or at least," he amended, "not a violent one."

  Crayton shrugged, and there was a hiss of pistons as the mechsuit moved with him. "Apparently he was pushing people around a little, grabbing them, blocking their way, that kind of thing. Nothing malicious, but it was enough for someone to go and get the peacekeepers."

  Grayson frowned. "And the moment you involve those thugs things are invariably going to get ugly."

  "Yes," Crayton agreed, "and that is when I stepped in. I was walking down the street when I noticed a commotion up ahead. Some hot headed infernian had tried to drag him away, so he of course responded to that by shaking him off- which, given what he is, meant that he threw the man through a window."

  "Oh dear," Grayson put on an insincere yet surprisingly convincing expression of regret, "poor Alliance. It almost makes you feel sorry for them."

  "They always seem to draw the short straw." Grayson wasn't sure whether he was imagining it, but he might have picked up a trace of amusement in the otherwise monotonous and robotic voice. "When I reached them they had all drawn weapons and surrounded him. So, of course, I asked them what was going on. They told me that the hellion was a public menace and had attacked unarmed civilians. He didn't look like the kind of person to do that, so I told them that I would take him off of their hands."

  "And they agreed? Just like that?"

  "You would be amazed how accommodating people are to you when you are standing inside a ninety tonne killing machine. I assume they decided it was not worth the hassle of arguing with me. Anyway, we walked off, we started talking, I ran a few filters, and eventually figured out that we were going to the same place."

  "Ran a few filters?"

  "I looked it up."

  The conversation died down for a few seconds before Sora spoke. "Isn't that just a little convenient?"

  "Is not what?"

  "There must be millions of people in this city." Her voice was cautiously suspicious. "It just strikes me as a little convenient that you'd just happen to run into each other, and that you'd find him just at the right moment."

  "I see. When you look at it that way, it does seem to be a little convenient. However, the unlikelihood of the events does not change the fact that I have told you the truth."

  "So it was just chance?"

  "Chance would be the easiest way to describe it. Unless any of you are philosophers?" Nobody spoke up. "In that case, I think it was just good luck."

  She frowned. "I don't believe in luck."

  "You do not have to; what you have to believe in is me and that, as I have said, I have told you the truth. What possible reason would I have to lie about it anyway?"

  "I don't know, but if you are lying then it throws your entire story into question."

  "Question all you want," Crayton replied, "but do not question me. I would rather not spend this day under your interrogation."

  There was an uncomfortable silence, before it was broken as Thief cleared his throat. "Isn't it about time we spoke to our mysterious employer? That's why we're all here, isn't it? To find out what exactly they want us to do?"

  "No," Karolus replied. "We still have twelve minutes and sixteen seconds before he's meant to be contacting us." He turned to the pilot. "You. Zack… Zacki… Zakineru-"

  "Crayton," Grayson chimed in helpfully.

  "Zackineruchrisse. Zack-een-err-uck-riss. It is only five syllables; I would really rather you didn't shorten it for me." Grayson couldn't help but feel that the dozens of cameras on the suit were glaring at him.

  "Whatever," Karolus said dismissively. "You told us you were piloting that combat mech when you ran into the hellion."

  "Yes?"

  "Are you aware that what you were doing has already broken at least three laws?"

  "Sorry?" Again, Grayson realised that he might have misjudged the man after all. He was almost positive, if he focussed hard enough, that there was a trace of emotion in there after all- not likely enough for anyone without his skill to pick up on, but there was definitely something. In this case, incredulity.

  "By carrying weapons of that power around," he glanced over at the larger mech, which seemed to be armed with just about everything from chainguns and rocket launchers to railguns and anti-tank cannons, "you have violated the laws of the demilitarised zone. By stepping in and collecting the hellion, you have assisted in allowing a suspect to escape the scene of the crime."

  "Please, do not tell me you actually care about that? They practically handed Seth to me, and every other person in this city is better armed than they should be- there is a reason why nobody bothers to enforce that law. Actually," there was a pause of a few seconds as Crayton appeared to be thinking, "that law is overruled by the Alliance laws regarding the possession of armaments within hub cities. It is only illegal to actually fire them."

  "I would be able to overlook those transgressions," Karolus continued as though the other man had not said anything, "if not for your third violation of the law. You aren't allowed to pilot mechs of that size in the inner city."

  "And why is that?"

  "It damages the roads."

  There was a second of stunned disbelief, then Grayson, Sora, and Thief all burst into laughter. Seth sidled over to the group.

  "Road?" He inquired.

  Karolus pointedly ignored them. "Have you seen the state of these roads? People like you, people who never bother to think about how their actions affect others, are the reason these roads get damaged so quickly."

  "Let me clarify this- you are angry with me because my mechanoid is too heavy?"

  "Yes!"

  "I see. And what about the weight distribution? Would you like to measure the surface area it has in contact in the ground? Calculate the pressure it exerts upon your precious roads?"

  "That doesn't matter if I already know that what you are doing is illegal."

  "Ten minutes, twenty-two seconds, and eighteen-point-five milliseconds." This time there was no mistaking it. Crayton was definitely mocking Karolus.

  The aetherial, however, did not appear to register this. "We have time. Now, I know that thing will come with an autopilot mechanism, so what I want you to do is tell it to leave now, and station it somewhere outside of the city."

  "And if I do not comply?"

  "I'm in charge of this group. You don't have a choice."

  "Ten minutes, five seconds, and forty-two milliseconds."

  "I told you," Karolus seemed on the verge of lapsing back into his angry state, "we have time. Move it now."

  Crayton turned back to the rest of the group, raising his hands imploringly. "I think I am starting to understand why you were on the verge of killing each other when I arrived."

  Karolus' hand inched up his back towards the pommel of his greatsword. "Was that a threat?"

  "It was a statement of the fact that you are one of the most irritating people I have ever had the misfortune to meet. For you to take it as a threat only reinforces my view of you."

  "I see." The sword swung smoothly from its scabbard. "So you're being insubordinate. I've had just about enough of that already, and I'm starting to think it would work out better if I just dealt with it the hard way."

  "You can try, tough guy, but I wouldn't recommend it." There was a clicking noise and inch long blades sprung from the knuckles of his suit. "It would only lead to great pain." None of the others picked up on it, and it seemed so unbelievable that Grayson couldn't be sure he wasn't simply imagining it, but he thought he might have heard a trace of apprehension; as though the walking armoury of a mech pilot didn't quite believe he could take on the arrogant and unarmoured aetherial. He dismissed it as trying too hard to look for expression from a machine.

  "Yes," Karolus agreed, "a lot of pain; but for-"

  "Enough!" The word echoed around the room, hanging on the air as five pairs of eyes swivelled to look at Grayson, surprise at his suddenly commanding air written on
their faces. "I've barely met you, and I'm sick of the lot of you already. Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you should engage your brains before your mouths?"

  The volume of the speakers seemed to drop slightly. "It is not my fault," Crayton stated, "He was the one to start this."

  "Isn't that a shame? How old are you, three? Did he kick your sandcastle? Steal your favourite toy? It doesn't matter who started this, I'm ending it now." There was nothing about him to indicate that he wasn't willing to do whatever was necessary in order to break up the second near fight of the day.

  Karolus hesitated. "I'm the leader here." It was more like a question than a statement.

  "Officially, you are. But there's nothing here to stop us from electing our own leader, and if you continue acting like you are that's exactly what we're going to end up doing."

  "You wouldn't."

  Grayson stepped closer, towards the hesitant angel. Despite the difference in height, he was obviously and unquestioningly the one in control, and if anything Karolus seemed to be shrinking back from him. "You've never met me before. The most you know about me is my name. You don't know who I am, what I am, what I've done, what I've been through, or even just how good I am. So let me give you a little advice: never, ever, presume to imagine a person's limits if you have no idea who they really are." He dropped his voice to a whisper, and everyone in the room leaned almost imperceptibly closer to hear what he was saying. "You have no idea what I will and won't do, and telling yourself that you know me is one hell of a stupid move. You have absolutely no clue what the consequences for that might be.

  "So," his voice rose back to normal talking volume and he stepped back again, all trace of threat gone, "this is what is going to happen. Either you," his finger pointed accusingly at Karolus, "are going to be more tolerant, and the rest of you are going to stop antagonising him, or we can all rip each other to pieces today and end this venture before it's begun. No takers? Then stand back, shut up, and stay out of my way. We've got work to do, and we don't need to like each other to get that work done."

  He turned his back on them and began to walk away, but he sensed that they were still expecting him to say something more. He dismissed them with a simple "As you were." He lay on his back on the last remaining table and sighed; his voice no longer holding any command or control in it, and it appeared as though he was speaking to them as an equal once again. "I just can't believe that we've barely met each other and we're already at each other's throats. This is exactly why I always work alone." Underneath his all too real weariness though, he couldn't help but congratulate himself on his little speech. He could act with the best, courtesy of his life as a part time conman, and he could tell that he'd executed it near-perfectly. A little rough perhaps, but he'd been more emotional than he perhaps should have, and had let it get the better of him. The effect, however, was exactly as intended.

  The problem was that, unless he crushed it soon, he'd let himself in for a lot of trouble. He'd known beforehand that it would be this way. By telling Karolus that he was leader only in an official capacity, he'd let into their heads the concept of a proxy commander; and through the ease with which he had forced the two into submission, he'd let into their heads the idea that he might be this commander.

  Grayson didn't want to be a leader. Truth be told, he didn't really like other people- they either slowed him down or they let him down, so he'd simply decided to work on his own. While he'd had a few jobs where he'd been forced to work with others, they'd all been quick and easy and he'd managed to avoid too much contact with them. Not this time though. This was supposedly going to take a while, which meant he'd need to spend a lot of time around them. If not for the generous pay he'd never have bothered in the first place, but he was starting to have some serious second thoughts.

  An insistent beeping noise roused him from his thoughts. Opening his eyes from his daydreaming, he found himself faced with the disappointing reality of a month or so with these dysfunctional misfits. Thinking about it, he couldn't help but appreciate the irony. There wasn't a more fitting bunch of warriors for him to be working with- although that didn't make it any easier.

  "What is it?"

  "We're getting our call," Thief told him. There was a sort of deference in his gaze now, like he was speaking to his superior and not his equal, and Grayson's heart sank at this confirmation of his expectations.

  "I guess we'd better answer it then."

  Karolus, refusing to meet his eyes, pressed a button on some kind of remote and a holographic screen sprung to life along one wall. In the screen stood a portly human man, dressed in an immaculate suit and tie and shoes which practically shone. The holograph comprised of varying intensities of blue, so there was no colour to be made out, but Grayson was fairly certain that if there was the man's carefully groomed hair would be jet black, dyed to remove any traces of age.

  The man took half a second to take in the scene, before he frowned with obvious disapproval. "What happened to the furniture?"

  "Your lizard tried to sit down on it," Karolus said. Seth appeared to smile as he was mentioned, and Grayson was pretty sure he'd never seen anything quite so terrifying in his life.

  "And he didn't realise after the first few broken pieces that he might be better off cutting his losses?"

  "I guess not."

  "And none of you decided to step in?"

  "We thought it might be prudent to stay out of his way. We figured you might prefer losing your furniture to losing half your men."

  The man shook his head. "Absolutely useless. I thought you were meant to be warriors, not cowards. My employer has to pay for that, and I'll be the one who gets the blame."

  "We thought it would be better not to be fighting amongst ourselves," Karolus replied, obviously struggling to remain calm.

  "Fine then. Let's just get this over with and then I can get back to my life."

  The small group edged closer to him to hear what he had to say. He had made a poor first impression, and they were all (bar Seth) angry with him to some degree or other, but they had no choice but to hold their tongues until he was gone.

  "You will know me as Boss. I am here as an intermediary between you and my superior, and it falls to me to fill you in on your mission and your orders. I work for an industrial conglomerate, neither the name nor the location of which do you need to know. Our organisation is involved in, among other things, the production of armaments- everything from machine guns to armoured vehicles to nuclear warheads. Recently, however, our business has become the target of an off-planet terrorist organisation.

  "This organisation, which calls itself the Darkfang, is comprised primarily of nightwalkers- ask the lumin if you want to know about those- and is believed to be based on Luminacht Primary. Hence you have been summoned here. This terrorist organisation has been targeting us for years, but we're a large company and until recently their overall effect has been negligible. However, that has now changed.

  "For the past two years, the Darkfang has been ambushing our supply convoys, stealing raw materials and small arms. We felt that going after them would be more trouble than it's worth, and so we left to them to their little games. A few months ago, however, they launched an attack through a rift and straight into one of our storage facilities. We weren't expecting any attacks, so it was poorly defended and they managed to escape with some of our ICBMs. We don't know much about the organisation, so we don't know what has caused the radical change in their activities, but ever since then they've been targeting us directly. This was the stage where we felt the need to take action. Are you all keeping up so far?" Crayton raised his hand. "What is it?"

  "Do we have any idea as to the motives of this organisation?"

  The man nodded. "Three main ones, actually, and they're part of the reason you're gathered here. Our first guess is that they want our equipment- nothing more, nothing less. We already know that we aren't the only people they're targeting, so it stands to reason that they'll ne
ed better weapons and armour in order to fight with."

  "But that's not a very likely possibility."

  "No. You'd have to have one hell of an enemy to need nuclear missiles to fight them. This isn't a war they're running; or at least not an overt or conventional one. For them to utilise a weapon like that would be grossly overreacting, and in the end probably create more problems than it would solve. A real army would be mobilised, and we'd crush them like the insects they are. So, we come to the second possibility.

  "It's quite likely that they want to extort something from us. Our company has more wealth in its little finger than many shards have in their entirety, and that kind of money attracts the corrupt like flies to honey. By pointing enough weapons at us, they may be hoping to blackmail us into handing over some of our wealth. This would explain them taking the missiles- if they can gather enough of them it will reach the stage where giving in to their demands would be more profitable in the long term than standing defiant. This is the situation we are hoping to avoid."