The Failings of Men

[Lonestar]

The Failings of Men

Chapter One

“Sam…”

The voice is distant, and Sam can only barely hear it. He’s floating in the darkness, and would rather stay there.

”Sam…”

The voice again. Why won’t it leave him alone?

”Sam..”

There seems to be a high pitched tone following it, getting louder and louder…

”OFFICER WYTHE, WAKE THE FUCK UP!”

Sam jolts awake, standing in the doorway to his stateroom is Sergeant of the Guard Cody “Shiv” Rhainsford. The deck light is illuminate his form.

“What is it Sarge? It’s…” Sam glances at the alarm clock on his nighstand, which says ’0234, 12 April 2118’ on it “Two One Thirty! Jesus Christ.” Alright the heat from the tropical night is forcing it’s way through the door. His roommate, Linguist-officer Julius Baamonde, is absent-mindedly putting on his BDUs.

“SP-12’s transponder went out 40 minutes ago.”

“So? Call them on the Iridium, or Derrick-to-shore Radio.”

“They aren’t picking up.”

Shit… “All right boss, I’ll be out in 10.” Shiv stomped off. Sam sat up and shifted his feet so it sat on the deck, rubbing his face in his hands. In the silence, the noise of Baamonde tying his bootlaces dominated all. Giving a loud, audible sigh he stood up and stomped over to his closet, and rapidly got dressed. Julius was already out the door.

Dressed, Sam locked his door behind him, went by and grabbed his toolkit and sidearm from the equipment locker, and marched to the flight pad. The heat and the humidity was already causing him to be sticky, and he glared at the distant New Guinea shoreline. SP-12 was a deep crust sensor platform built to monitor mantle activity and feed the information to the 3 dozen or so borehole derricks off the coast. Derrick-88 was the nearest such facility, and thus they got the lucky call the send out a detail to investigate. Turning on his data pad, it connected with the Southwest Pacific Energy and Mineral data network. Bringing up SP-12’s information, he frowned to see that all of the RFID chips for the 6 or so workers went offline about the same time as the transponder.

I hope it’s just that piece of shit Chevron Transformer. Sam thought. It wouldn’t be the first time the old, old equipment failed in spectacular manners and knocked out every electronic. Rounding the corner he could hear the engines of the EC-4 Utility Hopper spinning up, with the derrick pilot Angela Berube looking more than mildly pissed that she was woken up. Besides Julius and Shiv, there were 4 Gunner-sergeants who were on the security detail. Sam absent-mindedly stepped in the hopper and sat down and buckled up. Still reading the SP-12 data, he noted that it was located in a area obstructed from the shore by mountains.

“Alright, let’s get this bullshit circus on the road!” Berube snarled and stepped into the cockpit. The security detail hustled on, with almost everyone having to fight the giggles from the words and tone leaving the petite pilot.

The EC-4 lifted and veered Southeast towards the coast. Rhainsford sat facing the outside, his Ganz HMG pointed that the nearing jungle. As far as ecologies went, much of the foliage on the island remained, even after a century of development and runaway global warming. The interior was filled with indigenes who hated everyone, most of all mega-corporations like SWPEM. Wiping sweat from his brow, Sam muttered “At some point I’m going have to seriously reconsider some of my life choices.” No one heard him but Julius, who merely lifted an eyebrow.

After about 30 minutes Berube’s voice crackled over the cabin. “SP-12 in sight, circling.” Glancing out, Sam could see nothing but dark jungle. Not good. Another crackle. “Looks like there’s at least one body in the tall grass. Otherwise it’s clear. Coming in for a landing, prepare to dismount.” Sam slid his NVGs over his eyes and activated them, gradually providing some illumination in black and white. The EC-4 put down, the detail exited, and Berube lifted off, starting to orbit the site.

SP-12, like all the old Chevron sensor platforms, consisted of an antenna mast, an Equipment shack(with the deep hole in it) and a trailer that provided quarters for the workers.

Shiv’s voice clicked in his earbud. “Alright, secure the perimeter. Ramirez, come with me. We’re going to take a look at that body.” Sam had his sidearm out, looking at the treeline. No movement. “Yeah, we found him Angela. Jesus…one hell of a hole in his chest. Doesn’t look like a slug wound.” pause. “Getting a weak RFID signals, he’s one of ours. I…oh shit.”

“Oh, fucking gross” Ramirez’s voice said. “They scooped out his heart!” “Shut it Ramirez. Let’s bring the body near the flight pad.”

The two lifted the body and moved back, setting it down. “Angela, can you go ahead and request a second team to be sent out? We’re going to need it, if only for the clean up.”

“Ten-four.”

The silence was starting to freak Sam out. Julius was staring out with his SMG, impassive as always. The rest of the detail was keeping a careful out on the structures and treeline.

“Alright, Derrick’s 87 and 86 both have teams en route.”

“Roger. Alright gents, check out the quarters first.” The 4 Gunners ran up, then kicked the door open. After 10 seconds that seemed to last an age, Ramirez’s voice came back. “All clear. We got 2 bodies. Looks like both have had their hearts taken out.”

“Cultists.” Sam whispered. “Mm-hmm.” Julius said. The indigenes taking part in the insurrection, with flamboyant names like “George Washington” and “Ahmed Massoud”, had in recent years started to take part in “traditional” New Guinean fare. The 4 gunners had left the trailer, and gathered on both sides of the doorway of the equipment shack.

“Go.”

The four burst in, then there was a spat of multiple sounds of disgust. “It’s clear,” Ramirez said. “you guys need to take a look at this we have…one body. Heart is missing. The body looks like it’s been ripped in half.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Exactly what I said, Shiv.”






Chapter Two

The Village Headman, who went by the name “Henry Knox” slid the last generator in place. The Messenger had been kind enough to allow him to keep two of the three portables looted from the SWPEM facility, as well as some of the explosives. Once more the Messenger, in his wisdom and power, had proven to be correct in the easy pickings, and his people had feasted on the foreigners’ flesh.

Knox(the name had been taken several years ago, before the Messenger came to show them the way of the Divine Powers) smiled at the memory of the SWPEM’s face as the Messenger had physically lifted and ripped him asunder. The whole attack lasted less than 5 minutes, and had been extremely successful. Knox had been concerned about the proximity of his village to the site, but after seeing the power at work he was at ease. Surely a man as powerful as the Messenger knew what he was doing?

The small data slate that was sitting on a shelf lit up. His compatriot, and the secular leader of the liberation front, appeared. George Washington’s face was grave. “Brother, the Messenger believes that Southwest Pacific security is enroute to your home. They will be there in less than 10 minutes.”

“What? But, he promised they would not respond! We have just begun the feast!”

“I know brother, and for that the Messenger is sorry. Prepare yourselves.”

The slate turned off.

-----

Washington turned off the slate and looked at the Messenger. He was the biggest man he had ever seen, towering even over the foreigners who raped the land here. “I would like to know why we even went on this raid, and why we led to Henry to believe that there would be no reprisal.”

The Messenger, who had been sitting on a log, stood up, looming over Washington. “Brother,” came the rasping voice “Do you desire freedom?”

“Of course.”

“For your people?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what is required for such freedom?”

“Power!”

“Yes.” The Messenger lifted his hand and held it mere centimeters from Washington’s face. Washington could feel the static electricity causing every hair on his body to stand on end. “Power. Power that, for your people, can only be provided by the Divine Powers. You must prove your peoples’ worth.”

“By bringing Southwest Pacific security down on us?”

“No, they are too paltry of an offering.”

------

Sam glanced at the village down below, which had been located a mere 10 kilometers from the site, and thus seemed to be the logical place to started. The EC-4 put down hard, they dismounted, and Berube lifted off again. It wasn’t even 0400 yet. The village was tiny, less than 30 indigenes lived here. About ten of them were gathered in front of a very large pot in front of the largest house. The Headman walked forward.

“Yes me frienz? Early in the morning, is not?”

“Cut the pidgin crap. What do you know about SP-12?”

The Headman frowned. “It is 10 kilometers North of here. Occasionally we sell produce. Otherwise…” The Headman shrugged.

He’s got the “stupid native” part down Sam thought. Shiv kept right on talking. “See anything interesting?”

“No, me frienz.”

“Bullshit bullshit bullshit!” Sam said. “Something caused the transformer to go off, and when those things go it can be seen for kilometers around. And there’s nothing obstructing the site from your village, no intervening crest.”

The Headman glared, and before he could respond Shiv spoke. ”Whatcha cooking? A bit early for breakfast?” and moved forward. The rest of the detail followed. As they approached a Sam’s data slate viberated briefly, indicating that new friendly RFID had been found nearby. They had set their slates to go off once a new RFID had been found. Almost as one the detail all switched their safeties off.

“My Frienz! What is…”

“Knock it off!” Shiv snarled. “Wythe?” Sam had his slate out. “They got our people in that there stew, boss.”

“Outstanding. You are all under fucking arrest, three more details are on their way. Everyone lay on the dirt, turn your heads away from us, and put your arms out.”

-----

Henry gnashed his teeth. This couldn’t be happening! He needed to…oh no. Behind the man with the slate out, he could see his son, barely 5, with a pistol…

----

Sam noticed the Headman’s brief flicker to the side, and turned. There was a kid, wearing cargo shorts…but he was fingering something in a pocket…

“Get down!” Sam dropped to one knee and trained his pistol. The little boy tried to pull out a gun, but before it was brought out all the way Sam fired. Instantly a firefight erupted, with Berube lowering the EC-4 to train the autogun turrets. More indigenes came out of the houses. Same felt a slug impact his flak armor, but he kept firing at the targets. The shooting stopped, with mostly dead indigenes and only two injured members of the detail. The young boy was dead on the ground.

Am I suppose to feel guilt? All I feel is…relief.


The detail was searching the bodies, on every able bodied male, a red star had been burned into their chests.

“Cultists.” Ramirez said.

“Why were they waiting?” Julius asked. “Surely they knew we would be investigating…”

“Who knows what goes through a Reef Nigger’s mind?” Ramirez said.

----

“Henry and his village are dead.” The Messenger intoned. George stiffened. “Did…did they kill any of the foreigners?”

Pause.

“No, I do not believe so.”

“Then…then what was the point????”

“To bring a worthy sacrifice here. Do not question Me again.”

[Bladed_Crescent]

Very nice. There's a definite W40K feel to this situation with the Messenger and his Divine Powers.

Looking forward to seeing more.