Warhawk's Amnesty - Ch. 5 - A Different Kind of Hell - Final

Or so he thought. When the shooting started, the two men sprinted to the side wall of the nearby building for cover. By the time they peeked around the corner, the battle was nearly over. They watched Sister Mischa charge with her powersword  drawn, lighting up the entire area in a red flame. Seb almost felt bad for the man who screamed, backpedaled, and fired his laser pistol. The bolts that connected illuminated the Sister’s thick shield before she closed the distance to carve with her blade. She swung wide, hewing the man in half at the torso. His screams filled the air along with the smells of burnt meat.

With the threat of combat over, both men relaxed. Seb tapped the lieutenant on the shoulder, holstered his weapon, and walked into the middle of the carnage. Before he could make his presence known, Sister Mischa turned unnaturally fast and raised her sword.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Seb said, raising his hands. “It’s me, it’s Seb.” He could see the killer in her eyes. It left him with a primal feeling that told him he made a mistake. Her eyes were no longer the vibrant gold, but were now a deep-crimson  red. However, as her eyes darted back and forth, the red color slowly faded with a sign of recognition. Sister Mischa deactivated her sword as she shouted off a roll of phrases he didn’t understand. However, the tone  made it clear that she was pissed.

“I’m sorry,” Seb said, holding up a finger and dropping his pack into the fresh snow. “I bought something for this. Just give me one moment . . .”

He zipped open his bag and pulled out the personal comm device that was built into a pair of around-the-head headphones and microphone that connected to a transparent eyeglass. Once he activated it, he fumbled through the startup menu—ensuring he selected his correct language—and registered  his own voice to sync with other compatible systems. Once he was done with the configuration, his focus shifted beyond the device to see that Sister Mischa was no longer there. 

“Wait, where did she go?” Seb asked.

He heard Dover’s footsteps approach him on the side. The officer pointed over to the large hole in the wall. “She went back in there, but, Seb, we need to go to the comms relay.”

“Why don’t you go ahead, and I’ll meet you up there?”

Dover let out a heavy sigh and shook his head. “Fine, whatever, but I need the credit chip and your comm ID  so I can sync it with my WICI.”

Seb grabbed the credit chip from his pants pocket and handed it to Dover. Once the officer was ready to receive his number, Seb clicked through his menu and forwarded it to him. They both ran through a test call, ensuring that the communication worked.

“All right, we’ll sync back up after I find out what’s going on with Sister Mischa,” Seb said. “If you run into any problems, just give me a call.”

“Will do.”

Seb furrowed his brow and looked down at the extended hand. He clasped it while the two men shared a nod. When Seb let go, Dover sprinted off and disappeared into the flurry of the storm. As soon as he was about to head toward the hole in the wall, a raspy voice pulled his attention downward. It was the man who was severed in half.

“Bring—” The man’s words cut off into a coughing fit. Seb kneeled down to try to listen. “Bring everyone.”

“Bring everyone?” Seb asked. When he  saw the man’s communication device flash, he realized the man wasn’t talking to him. With an increased sense of urgency, Seb jumped and sprinted into the building’s opening. However, once he was inside, he realized he wasn’t prepared for what was there.

It wasn’t the burnt guts or sprays of blood along the wall from Sister Mischa’s entrance that left him feeling uneasy—he’d expected more bodies—it  was the empty cages lined like a petting zoo filled with piss and shit buckets, soiled blankets, and chains. In holographic displays along the front of the cages were details of each of their inhabitants: their race, sex, and age. There were twelve cages in total, but only nine people huddled in the  corner. They wore clothing that wouldn’t be considered more than tattered paper, each with their own collar , shackles, and manacles.

“Sister! Sister!” one prisoner cried in a hoarse voice. “Raider! Raider!” Sister Mischa came sprinting out of a side room with her weapon raised, only to lower it once she saw Seb.

“It’s okay,” Seb said, raising and rotating his hands. “I’m a friend. I’m here to help.”

Sister Mischa stomped over to Seb, leaning over him as she pointed back out into the frigid streets. “Go. Now!”

The personal comm device delayed matching her voice with her lips. It would take some getting used to, but, for now, he was happy he could understand her. “No, you’re going to need my help. I overheard one of the guys outside radio for his allies.”

“Impossible, I killed them all.”

“Not the guy you sliced in half. We need to hurry.”

Without waiting for the Sister’s response, Seb pulled out his multi-tool from his pack and walked over to the nearest person. The man’s hair was clumped in dreads, and his body was covered in filth. Seb felt bad for being appreciative that he had his skinsleeve activated. He didn’t want to imagine what this place smelled like. The man retreated to the wall as Seb approached, only allowing him to get closer once the Sister gave a nod.

Seb used his multi-tool to cut through the man’s bindings in a matter of seconds. Once he finished, he didn’t expect the man to lunge at him. He tensed up, ready to throw the prisoner over his shoulder. But when the man’s sobs grew, Seb relaxed.

“It’s all right. Everything’s going to be all right. We’re going to get you all out of here.”

The man pulled away, wiping away his tears, allowing Seb to continue his work. He worked as fast as possible, as carefully as possible. He angled the laser as best he could  to prevent any further injury to the slaves. Each broken binding brought tears of relief to those who he helped, but it only filled Seb with even more anger. How could anyone do this? Seb asked himself. These sick bastards treated them worse than animals. If they do show up, I’m going to make them regret this day. With the final collar cut, Seb joined Sister Mischa, who was pulling clothing off of the raiders she’d slain.

“What are you doing?” Seb asked.

“I’m not about to walk them out into that blizzard wearing nothing,” Sister Mischa said. “They’ll freeze to death before they make it to my ship.”

“Where is it located? Could you bring it closer?”

“Yes, it’s at the docks, but I’m not just going to  leave them here.”

“Go get the ship, I’ll protect them until you arrive,” Seb said. The  Sister paused what she was doing, stood, and looked down at Seb. “Don’t worry about them, you can trust me. I . . . I know a thing or two about being locked up.”

Sister Mischa squinted as she gazed into Seb’s eyes. Whatever she was looking for, she found it. A smile crept along her face as she nodded. “All right. Help them with the clothes. I’ll bring the ship back.”

“You got it.”

Sister Mischa turned and told everyone about the plan, receiving several shouts of rebuke. It didn’t bother Seb, though. He knew that they had all been through a lot, and the Sister was a beacon of hope for them. When she took off into the white abyss, Seb did as she asked of him. They had looted all the bodies that were indoors, so he focused on the four that remained outside. The brutality and strength of the Sister’s strikes were apparent in the viscera that painted the snow red, green, and blue.

He wished there was more he could do and even thought  about holding up Samael’s shop for more gear. However, he disregarded that thought, as the last thing he needed to do was bring these people more trouble. A repeating symbol that was patched onto the raiders’ gear caught his eye. It was a saw blade covered in barbed wire. It reminded him of his time in Marcum. Gangs ruled entire cell blocks. Looks like there isn’t much difference out here, he thought.

After clothing the last of the survivors, Seb reached into his pack and started handing out what little rations of food and water he had. The ferocity at which they dug into the calorie-dense bars made him feel sick. While prison had its own trials and tribulations, he still ate three times a day. This . . . this is a different kind of hell.

It only took five minutes before Sister Mischa’s ship descended in front of the building. In typical onigaram fashion, it wasn’t built for aesthetics. It looked like a metal brick someone mounted two oversized engines onto. Once the rear loading ramp lowered, Seb helped everyone  into the ship. Some he carried; others just needed a shoulder to lean on.

With everyone in the cargo bay, Sister Mischa grabbed Seb’s shoulder and walked him to the edge of the ramp. “Here,” she said, holding out a handful of credit chips. “It’s a thank you for the help.”

“I don’t want your money,” Seb said, pushing her hand away.

“Then what is it that you want?”

“I just wanted to help. Seeing what they did to those people makes me sick. But if you’re offering recompense, my . . . associate and I are looking to get off this rock.”

Sister Mischa shook her head. “While I am appreciative of your help, I must prioritize the safety of these people. You and your . . . associate would be a liability I cannot afford.”

“Fair enough, can’t hurt a guy for trying,” Seb said, chuckling. “Can I ask you something, though? How did you find this place?”

“Nimora.”

“So, your goddess heard the prayers of these people and sent you to save them?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. Why do you ask?” Sister Mischa said, crossing her arms.

“Oh, I uh, I didn’t mean any offense. It’s just hard to believe in a galaxy full of false idols and deities.”

“Is it? Our history is paved with stories of the divine. Even in today’s era, you have the entire sectorum  being led by the Allmother. Have you not heard of what her blessings can do? I’ve seen it firsthand.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen the vids of the sectorum’s crusades. I just assumed it’s some sort of innate ability. It’s hard to comprehend a divine being intervening like that.”

“What of humanity’s Maker? I’ve heard the tales of the things they can do.”

“That’s . . . complicated,” Seb said, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s not quite the same. This is more direct.”

“Maybe you just don’t have enough faith. But as much as I enjoy speaking of our most holy, I need to get these people to safety.”

“Of course,” Seb said, turning and walking off the end of the ramp. When it started rising, he shouted one last question. “Sister Mischa, will I ever see those golden eyes of yours again?”

The red-horned woman smirked before cupping her mouth and shouting back. “Have a little faith!”

“I will,” Seb said, waving goodbye. He raised his hand instinctively as the force of the ship’s thrusters pushed it from the ground. It wasn’t until he could no longer see the blue from the ship’s thrusters disappear into the storm above that he decided it was time to move on.

With a few clicks on his communication interface, Seb established a link with Dover’s WICI. “Hey, I’m finished up here. What about you?”

“I’m still waiting for them to establish a connection,” Dover said with a sigh. “Apparently, they don’t keep a connection open to any of the GRC networks.”

“Yeah, I can understand why.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I’ll tell you about it when I see you. Where’s this place at?”

“Oh, that’s right. I have the map on my WICI. Let me send you the details to your comm.”

Seb waited until the message popped up on his HUD, and he opened the schematic.

“Okay, you should have it now,” Dover said. “It’s just down the street from where we were. You should see the red tower lights off into the distance.” 

Seb looked up and down the street. Like an eldritch horror luring unsuspecting prey toward itself, he could see the dozen red lights on the tall points of the tower as they flexed in Inoi 3’s harsh winds.

“All right, got it. Speak to you soon.” With a pleasant sense of his next destination, Seb marched toward the comms tower. The trudge through the snow left him with conflicting feelings. He was still feeling the high of helping Sister Mischa and seeing her smile again. However, the realist in him reflected on potential consequences. He could have just made some powerful enemies he knew nothing about. In this thick snow, he wouldn’t see the blaster shot before it hit him. The realization compelled him to walk with his hand firmly clasped around his revolver.

Pieces of the tower emerged  into view with each step as he got closer. Seb was in awe at the size of the structure, which was easily as wide as the rest of the town. When he was close enough to see the neon sign, Seb made his way through the entrance. Once he was inside, he made the mistake of deactivating his suit, instantly shriveling all of his important bits thanks to the cold. He checked his wrist. The display showed only twenty-five percent remaining on his battery’s charge. I hope they’ve  got a place I can plug into while we wait, he thought.

The main entrance was full of terminals with individual seats and transparent screens. As he scanned the room, Seb saw that Lieutenant Dover was already in a conversation with another man on a screen. Judging by the look of his suit and the badges on his collar, Seb assumed he was a high-ranking officer. He crept silently, sitting at one of the booths diagonally behind Dover’s, close enough that he could see and listen in.

“Who else knows about this?” the officer asked.

“Just myself and Captain Hawthorne, sir,” Lieutenant Dover said.

“Where’s the captain now?”

“He performed his final duty, sir, and went down with the Redeemer.”

“That’s . . . a pity. Hawthorne was a brave man.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are the details in this report accurate?”

“As accurate as they can be, sir.”

“You need to be one hundred percent certain, Lieutenant. The things you’re claiming here are . . . dangerous.”

“I’d put my life on it, sir.”

“Would you be willing to testify?”

“Without hesitation, sir. I owe Captain Hawthorne that much.”

“Hawthorne and everyone on the Redeemer were good people.” The officer paused to pour himself a handle of dark liquor before downing it in one gulp. “But Maker’s cunt, Dover, this is stating Warden Williams is guilty of murder, manslaughter, and a list of things that would put him behind bars for five lifetimes. This kind of scandal could bring the entire company down.”

“While I am aware of the repercussions to the company, sir, what’s more important is that the men and women who died deserve justice. There may also be many still alive on this planet. If we don’t get help quickly, they’re likely to freeze to death.”

“You’re right,” the officer said with a heavy sigh. “I’ll coordinate a rescue effort. We’ll likely need to bring in third parties, given it will take weeks before any of our ships could reach Inoi 3.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I want you to wait on Inoi 3 and rendezvous with the contractors that will take the job. I can’t make any guarantees, but I’ll do my best. The contractors will identify with the code phrase ‘crescent moon.’”

“Yes, sir.”

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Lieutenant Dover. This is going above and beyond the call of duty. It’s an honor serving with men like you.”

Seb saw the start of a smile break through Lieutenant Dover’s forced stern presentation before he rolled his lips. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you or the crew of the Redeemer down.”

“Good man, Lieutenant Dover,” the officer said with a salute. “Barris out—”

Lieutenant Dover slumped backward in his chair once the call ended, draping an arm over his eyes. It gave Seb a moment to creep out of his row and approach Dover on his side. He pulled out a chair and sat at the station next to the officer.

“You doing all right?” Seb asked.

“Yeah, that was good timing. I just got off the phone with Major Barris.”

“Who’s that?”

“He’s the highest-ranking officer at WCC and reports directly to the board.”

“So, you think he’ll take care of it?”

“Yeah,” Dover said, sitting up. “Yeah, I think so. He’s going to be sending whomever  is closest to help with the rescue. Most likely mercs.”

“Better than nothing, I guess. I hope they get  here quickly.”

“Yeah . . . Oh, how did things go with Sister Mischa?”

“Both good and absolutely terrible.”

“Oh?” Dover  said, turning in his chair.

“You remember that building she blew a hole in?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, she was freeing slaves. There were a dozen cages in the building.”

“Oh fuck.”

“Yeah, it was bad. That’s why Sister Mischa was here in the first place.”

“That’s wild. Could you imagine if the Maker had his own hit squad like that?”

“That’s why I asked her about it, but she was firm that she got her orders to come here for this exact purpose,” Seb said, shrugging. “I tried getting a ride for us with her, but she wasn’t about that.”

“It’s a shame she couldn’t have helped us, but it sounded like she had more important things to deal with.”

“Yeah, she told me to have faith that I’d see her again.”

“You really fell hard for the first woman you met out of prison, didn’t you?” Dover said, laughing.

“Shut it,” Seb said, laughing and pushing the officer.

“Careful, otherwise I’ll have to reverse your sentence again.”

Seb’s tone grew serious. “What do you mean?”

“I meant it in a good way,” Dover said, laughing  harder. “Before the call with the major, I was able to log on  to our system and remove those latest assault charges that were on your record. All you’ve got to do is survive a few more days, and you’ll have time served. That was the easiest way to go about it without raising too many red flags.”

Seb jumped out of  his chair and shouted in laughter. It was an immense weight off of his mind. While he wasn’t above just staying out of the law’s prying eyes, having things legitimate came without unnecessary stress and worry. After a few minutes of celebration, Seb picked up his pack and shouldered it.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“Well, the whole thing got me thinking. Remember Samael talking about those mercs at the docks having issues with their ship?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“It’s as good a time as any to see if I still have my skills. If I can get their ship running, maybe they can help?”

“Aren’t you tired? I’m worn out.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve got more energy than I’ve ever had. I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

“Fair enough,” Dover said, chuckling. “I’m going to wrap up a few things here before I head out. I hope there  is some kind of hostel or motel in the town.”

“One that serves breakfast would be nice.”

“I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

Seb and Dover clasped arms before Seb headed for the door. He turned and looked over his shoulder, catching a final wave from Dover before the officer   turned around and started working. There was something about that moment that caused time to slow down. Everything felt wrong. It was as if he knew this was the last time he would see the man.  Seb pushed the feeling aside as he ventured back out into the frozen tundra.