Oblivion's Peril

by M. H. Johnson

  Val nodded. “Sure.” He snapped his fingers. The man yelping in surprise as his blaster shorted out in his hand.

  Congratulations! Your clever use of Surge has shorted out your opponent’s blaster! Not that you couldn’t have simply redirected the blast, but why not use a flashy spell to impress someone clearly terrified of you? Carry on!

  "I can go, no problem." He flashed his black card. For some reason, the veli-driver paled. "But if you're in need of cash or a cure for a disease doctors say is incurable? You might want to reconsider."

  Charisma check failed! You can only push so far, Val.

  Mack’s hands clenched the gear shifts of his vehicle so tight his tendons popped out in stark relief. “No. Life doesn’t work that way. Miracles don’t manifest out of fucking thin air. There is no reason for you to help me, a complete stranger, and there is no way you could read me so damned quickly in a five-minute taxi ride!" He jabbed a finger at Val. "You're with that damned bounty hunter, aren't you!"

  Val frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  The driver chuckled bitterly. “As if you didn’t know. Fine, I’ll play along. Sure. I once flew with the big boys. Black Legion, one of the best outfits out there. Me and my crew? We were the best of the best. You think my driving’s sweet? I can do it with my eyes closed. And I have. I don’t just see the vehicles around me, I sense them. All of them. And in a battle-mech? I was beyond skilled. No one’s shields flared brighter, no one’s autocannon’s popped hotter than mine. But it didn’t mean shit when our unit’s CO sold us out to the insurgents we were supposed to be purging, and not only does our last operation go completely FUBAR, we took the rap while the colonel pocketed the spoils! Now he’s enjoying life in some goddamned resort world while me and my men were lucky just to get out before being nabbed by a court-martial and eternity in a pain vat for breaking our mercenary’s oath!”

  Mack sighed. “It was total bullshit. We followed the orders Colonel Talbert gave us to the goddamned letter! Only when we saw the bodies in the target zone, not a single insurgent among them, did we realize how badly we were being played. The data was spiked, our bank accounts had already been flooded with dirty money, and our CO was declaring us insurgent sympathizers to the Black Legion Council even as we acted on his orders!”

  He shook his head bitterly. “Hanse, damned fool, thought he could reason with command, get a fair trial. All he got for his faith in command was eternity blinking in a pain vat! And we’ve been on the run ever since.”

  Val nodded solemnly, pretending he wasn’t aware of Mack’s flashing fingers, the telltale feel of cold eyes gazing down at him, no doubt on the other side of more than one scope aimed right for his head or center body mass. “And so you and your men fled that madness, having to reinvent yourselves, stay under the shadows, and somehow make a living without bringing the wrath of the Black Legion on your head.”

  Mack nodded. “You got it, kid. And not just Black Legion. The Dominion is damned accommodating of Merc Corps. We’re practically their army, and they our bread and butter. Hell, they have us all on retainer. We’re practically their reserves.”

  Val nodded. “But you guys specialize in localized conflicts, no? Rites of Succession as Overlords are forged are the meat of your operations, isn’t it? Fight for the winning team, or keep neutral zones safe.”

  Mack flashed a mirthless smile. “Actual Dominion forces are focused on expansion. Succession and peacekeeping, that used to be our bread and butter. Only now, it doesn’t matter. Since my unit’s been labeled as oathbreakers, the entire Dominion considers us wanted men.” He shook his head sadly. “You’re right about one thing, kid, I do have a family. And a little girl who will be in a very bad place if her father gets picked up and put on a trial that can only have one ending. Too bad I had to land square in a bounty hunter's sights, but I guess the days of Mack the taxi driver are at a sad end. Sorry it has to be this way, kid.”

  Perception check made! You sense the gaze of predators all around you. PRM skill check made. You sense the buildup of energies aimed squarely at you! Extended forceshield activated! 100 Psion reserved. Psiblade activated! 100 Psion reserved.

  Even as he said the words, Val squeezed his will and jerked up his hand, force-shield catalyzing just in time to parry the twin blasts of plasma aimed straight for his now armored head.

  Mack gazed at Val in speechless disbelief, eyes fixated at the crackling blade of death humming the most terrible of dirges just inches away from his ear. His face took on a ghastly pallor, mouth opening and closing, but no words came out.

  Val's nod was strangely approving. "That was a well-coordinated ambush. Two snipers on adjoining roofs, other players as well, and everyone ready at a moment’s notice, just by you driving in here out of the blue with no warning, flashing what I guess is a merc code with your lights. No doubt all of it pre-arranged and rehearsed. Just what I’d expect from an elite unit.”

  Solemnly, Val sheathed his now inert blade before revealing a cube of shimmering alloy that sparkled even in the near darkness. “I don’t want your head, Mack. I want your loyalty.” Val turned, gazing all around. “I want the loyalty of every man in your unit! I don’t give a rat’s ass for Dominion intrigue, or your former commander. Yours isn’t the first unit to be set up and burned by those who swore to look after you. To look after their own. I can’t change what they did to you, but I can offer you honorable contracts and coin.”

  Breathless silence punctuated by a tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

  “How much?” barked a gruff voice in the darkness.

  Val grinned. “Fifty thousand credits worth of Elementium for each trained merc you can bring me. One hundred thousand credits if he’s a skilled mech pilot willing and able to fight by my side. Payable immediately. Renewable annually. And if I achieve my goal, all payments earned up to that point will be doubled.”

  A considering pause. “Mighty generous payout to mercs declared oathbreakers.”

  Val smirked. “Are you all oathbreakers?”

  “Hell no!” declared the offended voice.

  “Then I don’t give a damn what a bunch of backstabbing idiots called you. All I need to know is, are you in or are you out?”

  “Hell, I’m in!” declared a second voice in the darkness.

  “Let’s find out what the hell he wants us to do, first!” snapped the first voice. “Well, rich boy? What is it you want from a handful of mech pilots?”

  Val grinned. “That’s easy. You’ll be the hammer I use to smash my foes to dust.”

  Val could sense the man's frown in the darkness. "And who the hell is your enemy that you need a score of mech pilots to take them out?"

  Val let the silence build. “Every red on the board,” he said at last.

  A breathless whistle. “Well, shit.”

  Val nodded. “You mentioned a score. Twenty mech pilots is two million up front. Another two million paid when I achieve my objective. If things work out? I’ll keep you and your band on life-long retainer. You know what that means, I trust.”

  Mack swallowed. “That means if we work for you and you somehow manage to claim the board, no one would dare move against us.”

  Val smiled. “That’s one benefit of riding under my banner. Another is that I pay my troops well, and I don’t stab my men in the back. Any bounty hunters come your way? They can either get on my payroll or they can die. Their choice.” He then handed an awed Mack a potion glowing a brilliant sky blue hue.

  “What’s that?”

  “That’s a Cure-all potion,” Val explained. “If my guess is right, and someone you love is sick with illness, that should cure it, whatever it is. If not? Let me know.”

  Trembling hands clasped the potion close, shaking fingers desperately tucking it away in a belt pouch. “You have no idea what this means to me,” Mack whispered. “There’s no way you could know… and I set you up to be taken down! Why?”

  Val solemnly took the man�
��s hand, squeezing it. “I protect my own, Mack. Now take my coin and swear to fight under my banner.”

  Mack spent an endless moment peering into Val’s eyes. A man afraid to give hope purchase, lest he be smashed by bitter folly once more, yet desperate for a way out. Finally, he jerked a nod. “I accept your contract. I will fight by your side until we clear the field of all foes, and I’ll never betray you.”

  Val nodded in satisfaction as he felt the fine mesh of arcane and psionic energies seep deep into his newest recruit’s soul. “And I swear in turn to never stint on your pay nor expend your life cheaply.”

  Mack shivered of a sudden, looking at Val with an odd combination of awe and horror.

  “What did you just do?” he whispered.

  Val smiled. “Let’s just say we are both bound to our word.”

  Mack swallowed. “What happens if I break it?”

  Val shrugged. “You die.”

  Mack was at a sudden loss for words, Val solemnly handing him a small Elementium cube. “A hundred thousand credits, compressed and sealed in cubic form. I believe that squares us now. Yes?”

  Val turned to the other individuals who were emerging from darkness, many with the tough, sinewy builds he had come to recognize from a certain class of soldier or pilot. Those who were rugged, highly skilled, and able to infiltrate and extract themselves from almost anywhere often had a similar build. And those washed-out eyes with the thousand-yard stares. Val recognized them as well.

  He did not hesitate to press Elementium cubes into half a dozen eager hands, receiving an equal number of oaths.

  The gruff voice, belonging to a large, powerfully built man, was last to emerge from the darkness. His head shined with chrome, a cybernetic eye peering at Val closely. After a long moment, he gave a slow nod. “Something about you, kid. I can almost taste the way tides of fortune and folly swirl about you.” He chuckled softly. “At least serving under you won’t be boring, I can tell that already.” A massive hand engulfed Val’s own after palming the Elementium cube. “Name’s Axel. Captain Axel, once upon a time. I’m the leader of this band of merry misfits, and you sure as hell better give bonuses when the men in my unit go beyond the call of duty.”

  Val smiled and nodded. “That could certainly be arranged.” His gaze hardened. “I’m grateful for the half-dozen, but I could use a full score. Hell, I can use as many pieces as you can put on the board.”

  Axel flashed a smile of his own. “If everything looks clean an hour from now, my men will put the word out.” Hard eyes bored into Val’s own. “You do understand we don’t have any Mechs, right, kid? The cost of deep cover is you can’t take your shiny toys with you.”

  “If all goes well, that won’t be a problem,” Val assured.

  Axel vented a throaty chuckle. "You are a man of resources! I can respect that. Now, why don't you head on over to our shop and make yourself comfortable while we handle the arrangements."

  Val nodded, getting no sense of malice or treachery, knowing all too well just how tightly Greater Oathbinding would clamp down on the very life force of anyone who dared to break that bond. To say he was fascinated by what he saw when they came to their final destination at the end of the alley would be an understatement.

  A friendly hand clapped his back. It was all Val could do not to spin out and wrench it free of socket.

  “Birds of beauty, aren’t they? Sweet factory spec bikes from top-of-the-line manufacturers. They go just a tad faster than regulation, but not so much that any patroller would spot with a casual eye. Best of all, the glittering lightfest is strictly optional.”

  Val nodded, captivated by the rows of pristine hover-blades displayed before them, admiring the sleek chrome and silver works of mechanized beauty. He turned a slow 360, taking in the surroundings, a far cry from the brilliant futuristic glitter of the city center. The countless grand towers of shimmering glass and chrome at the heart of the city were but a memory. Older buildings, some run down, most in good repair, were now the norm. And of course, not a single camera was in sight. Rare as they were, Val had only seen them in the heart of the city near the High Council chambers, or aimed at a restaurant his relatives would do well to avoid.

  Val turned to the former merc turned mechanic. “Somehow I don’t think you would have bothered to set up shop all the way out here if all you sold was regulation gear."

  Axel nodded. "You'd be right, lad. Now, how about you come inside? We'll make sure your cubes are up to par, and should they pass the test, I can show you the finest selection of hover-blades you'll find in all of Jordia.”

  A short, powerfully built man named Ludvig jerked a nod, muddy brown hair an interesting contrast to sparkling violet eyes. “Commander’s right. We got beauties the Overlord himself would envy, if he hadn’t up and gotten himself dead.”

  Rough chuckles at those words, Val as much as anyone else.

  “Of course we don’t have to tell you what happens if those cubes prove fake,” warned yet another of the mercs Val had hired on.

  Val turned and faced the man who had spoken. His handshake had been firm when he had taken the oath, but his silver eyes blazed with a crackling regard. Val had no doubt he'd be the first to strike if he felt betrayed. By anyone. "I would lose out on some damn fine pilots if Mack's skills are anything to go by," Val said, locking gazes until the man blanched and looked away.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask,” said Axel as he casually pointed out a number of hover-blades that Val found himself itching to try out. “How’d you make that call?”

  Val turned to the larger man. “Make what call?”

  Axel frowned. “You know, feel out that Mack was more than just a simple taxi driver.”

  Val turned to an embarrassed-looking Mack. “He was forced to take off the mask when a girl stumbled into the road. The way he handled his veli, slipping right past her even as he spun around, looking cool as a cucumber, I knew that was one man I wanted to hire right then and there.”

  Axel blinked. “You knew at that moment he was a mech pilot?”

  Val shook his head. “He let that slip without batting an eye. But the thought that he might be capable of even more than the typical mech pilot, or know others looking for work? I didn’t mind betting my time on it. As far as I’m concerned, when he drove me right to you guys, I hit the jackpot.”

  “Damn, kid. You have the Jack’s own luck. We could have shot you dead, had things gone a bit differently.”

  Val smiled and shrugged, saying nothing.

  Axel frowned. “And you’re still cool as a cucumber. Let’s hope you’ve earned that ice, lest it be a fool’s defense stripped away all too soon.”

  Val suddenly shivered, a chill of awe and wonder coursing through him as Axel led him into his showroom, a grand cathedral of pristine hover-blades leaning tall and proud on their kickstands, a sea of speed and power.

  “They sure are a beaut, aren’t they? I brought this property for a song. Realtor was happy just to unload it, didn’t even consider how perfect this amphitheater was for displaying my rides.”

  But Val paid no further attention to the sea of pristine chrome all around him, having tasted the faintest tingle of something extraordinary.

  Quick as his legs could carry him, he darted around the back of the amphitheater to Axel’s sudden alarmed cry, racing down the hallway, stopping before a steel-framed door.

  “What the hell are you doing, Val, or whoever the hell you are? This area is off limits!” snapped an angry Axel, blaster in hand.

  Accusing eyes locked upon Val. “We’re going to have a real problem if you don’t tell me what the hell you’re doing back here.”

  Val took a deep breath. There could be no doubt. He could all but taste the resonances in the electromana field, enticed by the hints of magic and Elementium in the air. “You have a dwarven artifact in here, don’t you?”

  Axel swallowed, eyes glaring hotly into Val’s own. “It’s none of your business what I do and don’t ha
ve back there. I’d like you to leave. Now.”

  Val gave a slow nod. “No problem. I am curious though, what is it?”

  Axel glared until Val stepped away. “Just a curiosity I picked up some time ago.”

  Val tilted his head. “But something about it displeases you. You’re jealous as hell about anyone even knowing about whatever it is that you have back there, but you’re having trouble with it, aren’t you?”

  Axel frowned. “And what if I am?”

  Val grinned. “I have a thing for dwarven artifacts, and I’m willing to buy if you have any interest in selling."

  Charisma check… success! Axel can’t help but be intrigued by the fulcrum of destiny before him! And it doesn’t hurt that you’re willing to pay the bills, either.

  Axel’s eyes widened. He gave a thoughtful nod, sighing as he sheathed his blaster. “Let’s just wait until Theo gives us the word. Then we’ll talk.”

  Val shrugged, more than happy to let Axel try to distract him with the bikes on display back in the showroom. He was obviously a man who took pride in his work, and Val couldn’t help but be impressed by the hover-blades, having no doubt they could outpace virtually any veli, silent as a ghost with lights that could be turned on or off at will.

  When the violet-eyed merc came up to their captain, whispering quietly in his ear before giving Val a solemn nod, Val knew the cubes had passed whatever test they’d devised.

  Axel smiled, favoring Val with a friendly nod. “It looks like your word has worth.” He turned back to the bikes on display. “Do any of these girls catch your fancy?”

  Val nodded, pointing to two of them, sleek and subtle, with coiled power just waiting to spring. “They’re beauts. But that still doesn’t answer my other question.”

  Axel sighed. “Your guess wasn’t far off. What I got stored safely in back is indeed a dwarven artifact, and I have yet to get the thing working.” He gazed intently at Val. “The thing is, though, I’m pretty sure it will work for you.”

  Curiosity piqued, Val was just a step behind a bemused-looking Axel as he led the way back to the reinforced door, the passage opening before them with a single swipe of the man’s security card.