"Talk to me doc." Mr. DeLaLune said as he entered the high-tech labratory. The best photon-microscope, computers and other fancy toys money could buy were neatly placed within the clinically white area. At it center a holo-viewer showed a part of the surface of Mars, with under it whole 3D areas of red glow. "Ah, sir. You're finally here. Tell me, what do you see?" Madame Maison said. She was a combination of good looks and a smart brain. "A big glowing zone." Mr. DeLaLune answered dry. Much to the annoyance of Dr. Maison. "The red glow is valuable ore." she added, on an equally dry tone. This made Mr. DeLaLune slightly more excited. "That much!?" he exclaimed. He had seen the results of the first test samples. Dig Site Alpha was promising to say the least. But now the estimated value could accurately be calculated. "Indeed. If my calculations are correct, and i am most certain that they are, we are literally scratching the surface. With current effort, this vein wouldn't dry out within 30 years." Dr. Maison said, equally excited now. "Doctor. Let me congratulate you on your excellent service." he said with a graceful smile. After which he exited the lab. Outside his Prime Commander was waiting.

"Commander? What brings you here?" Mr. DeLaLune said suprised. He and the commander met only during offical meetings. Mostly because that was the only time the commander left Dig Site Alpha. "You better take a look at this." the commander said, handing him a tablet. He pressed play and a news anchor appeared on the screen:

I am standing here before the EDC-1 building where just hours ago a terroist attack took place. An Omnichopter transporting a Goverment Official was supposibly shot during the protest. After which the EDC opened fire on the crowd. All over Elysium riots have broken out. So far there has been no official press releases from the EDC.

The video ended, and the commander took back the tablet. That was the news from just last hour. Elysium is turning into a warzone, sir. Reports all over Mars indicate the rise of terrorist organizations. his commander told DeLaLune. Who nodded in agreement. "I suppose you want me to up the budget for the security force?" DeLaLune asked. The commander merely nodded. Both were reasonable men, and the commander disliked wasting words. "I will think it over. Thank you for bringing this to my attention." Jonathan said. And so, both men went their own ways. Jonathan never was happy with bringing in more security. He knew some internal police force would be required. There were always those who would break the law. But now, with the fall of Earth, Mars too was descending into chaos. And all that, just when he hit the motherload.

---

---

"It's a great night, no?" mused Martin, looking out from the tower in the centre of Fort Solido. "A great night, a peaceful night, soon to be followed by a crisp dawn."

"Spare me the metaphors," said the dark skinned woman next to him, leaning on the railing. "I have bad news."

"It's always bad news with you," said the President with a smile, reaching over and smacking the woman in the military coat on the shoulder. She gave him a look. "Come!" Martin carried on, waving a bottle in his hand. "Live a little! We've achieved something great today."

"We built a wall," Marshal Asturias replied flatly, waving her hand down at the town below them. "It's made of scrap metal. And those are huts down there, not houses. Look at it."

A throng of people stood below, singing and waving their arms in unison. The new national anthem, recently composed by a budding young singer with a deep voice, rang over the cheers of the crowd. There he stood on a stage made from wood that wasn't even real wood - probably some plastic made from other colonies' waste - and sang through a crackling microphone, eyes closed, one arm over his heart and another pointed toward the North Star. The red sand beneath the feet of the crowd seemed to glow in the pale, white lights that illuminated the scene. All this was done to a backdrop of tents, sheds with tin roofs, unfinished wells and an unfinished wall.

"I am looking," said Martin after a long pause. His heart swelled with pride. "I see hope."

"I see a safety hazard," replied the black haired, black skinned woman.

"Que asco," lamented Martin, looking at her with concern. "I have figured it out. You are completely incapable of being optimistic."

Senora Asturias ignored that comment. "With all due respect," she continued, waving down below once more, "a gunshot, grenade or enemy aircraft could turn this celebration into a bloodbath in moments. The walls are unfinished; our anti-air defenses are crude next to what they'd be shooting at, and we have a nice, red bullseye painted on our nation's flag. It's called 'toppling a megacorporation.'" The Marshal narrowed her eyes. "You should look that up in an encyclopedia sometime. It's listed between 'bad ideas' and 'Wayang Incident.' You know, the one where some pendejos thought it would be real smart to take down Wayang Industries and got their asses pulverized? Literally?"

"Yet you followed through with it," the President noted. "You were with us the whole way."

"And with ousting the dictatorship that was about to take its place, yes, I am keenly aware of that." Asturias folded her arms over her chest, glowering at the president. "But you're missing the point. Yes, we did the right thing; but we're going to be an easy target for the Bloody Brothers, for other corporations... and for Skyguard." Adelina dropped that name last for emphasis and instinctively dropped her hand to her holster. "They've sent more ships to Mars. That's the bad news. Chew on it. Do you want our people wiped out by a passing spaceship, huh? Do you think they somehow won't notice what we've done here?"

Martin grew quiet. Gloomily, he looked back down at the crowd below and saw what she meant. There was hope there, yes, but it was a fragile thing. A single disaster could destroy everything they'd worked for: years of planning, of secret meetings, hundreds of lives lost...

"So what do you suggest, ¿mi amiga?" he asked, taking his brown black beret from his head and clutching it to his stomach.

"Let them have tonight," the Marshal said slowly, drumming her fingers on the rail. "Tomorrow, we need to get the non-settlers and non-essentials back to the city ASAP. Negotiations have to be initiated with our neighbors, especially the other colonists; we'll need trading partners, and we need to do damage control with our relations. Once that's done..." Adelina leaned on the railing, looking out into the distance. "Once that's done, we'll need to get new equipment, STAT."

"We do have a few of those old Harasser vehicles," de La Parranda mused. He removed a couple cigars from his pocket, lit two of them, and offered one to the Marshal. "Those are Talon devices, no? Our metal's still good; they'd probably be willing enough to take raw materials for their old weapons."

"It won't be a popular decision," noted Marshal Asturias, glancing over at the President. "Your people - our people - were freed from a corporation only weeks ago. There will be debate among our leaders, and the people won't be happy with this decision either..."

"I trust in our nation," Martin said fervently, clenching his fingers tightly around his beret. "I believe they will understand my decision. I need only speak with them."

Asturias stared at the man. "Don't let this become another junta," was all she said. Then, she took that cigar he offered to her and breathed the smoke in deep before exhaling a long, curling mist of the stuff. "We need stability, and our government hasn't even decided what form it will take besides having you at the helm."

"I won't," the President said quietly. "We won't have more violence among us. But you're right: we need those weapons, and the TSDC might be the best ones to provide them..."

"Just don't fuck up," Adelina said firmly. Then, she turned toward the door leading down the steps of the tower and shut it behind her just as the final countdown to midnight began.

"... cuatro, tres, dos, uno..."

And at 'zero' fireworks filled the air; cheers rose to impossible heights, and a thousand arms lifted into the sky in clenched fists. President Martin de La Parranda, leader of the Trabajadores Libres de La Parranda, stepped forward and lifted his own.

Let them have tonight, he mused.

---

---

TSDC Headquarters; office of CEO Argus

The office of the CEO would have been cold, had the entire building not been regulated with thermometer systems. The setting sun made for some orange and red reflections to go around the dimly lit office. It was a beautiful sunset, but Argus didn’t notice.

Problems, one after another. The fall of allies, the closing of offices, the growing desperation of the planetary government… all began to take their toll. And, of course, the loss of a critical link to a planetary university which closed down after riots threatened its safety.

Argus was browsing his news station of choice, the MAN, when he was pinged by Logan, a close friend and department head. Shifting all other windows on his screen aside with his artificial arm, he took the call. Logan’s face appeared as a hologram.

“Ah, Logan… couldn’t wait for the board meeting?”

Logan chuckled. “I could bring this up there or here, but perhaps it would be better if I briefed you first.” His face turned serious. “No doubt you heard about what happened to Hephaestus. I checked it out, sent some folks to confirm it, and I am certain that the company has completely gone down. No assets left, the rest are in the hands of La Parranda.”

Argus expected the news. Only one bit concerned him in particular. “We sent a shipment of OBC shells and other artillery over to them a few weeks ago. Do you think the colony has it now?”

Logan paused for a minute. “...I haven’t the faintest idea, sorry. On the bright side, if they do, they shouldn’t have any equipment that can actually use them.”

Argus nodded. “Alright. There are more issues anyways, but we’ll get to that during the board meeting. Did you send the shipment over to the boys at Horizon?”

The shipment included 6 armored infantry suits of a new model, a pair of Harassers, and a technician who knew the whole lot of them.

“The shipment was sent a few days ago by dropship, they should be arriving shortly.”

“Very well. See you at the meeting. Oh, one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Set up a division of heavy units, throw in some BeamBlaster 55k’s, use the new armored suit, the works. Preferably all newer model technology. I don’t need to spend 5 minutes looking at the news to see terrorist organizations and revolutionaries everywhere, not to mention the hate against corporations like ours.”

“Right, I’ll be on that after the meeting.”

Argus closed the call and leaned back. It would be a long week, for sure.

---

5 minutes from New Horizon United's Airspace; aboard the TSDC Dropship

“This is Dropship 0064 of the TSDC requesting permission to enter your airspace,” the captain said on an open broadcast to Destiny’s Descend. The dropship was regular sized for a dropship, yet almost filled to the brim, containing a small tech crew, 6 heavy suits and a pair of harassers. If accepted into the airspace, they would enter shortly.

"This is Destiny's Descend Control Tower. TSDC Dropship 0064 you are clear for landing on Dropspot 05." the control tower attendant said over the radio to the TSDC dropship. The commander himself was waiting at the lower hangar bay. When the dropship landed, it was lowered from the surface into an enclosed hanger. Where it was being unloaded. The commander signed the necessary documents. But took an extra moment to shake the hand of the pilot. "Tell your boss that I thank him greatly for this." he said, with a glimmer of a smile. After that he immediately went to inspect the Harassers. When he first took the job of Prime Commander of Destiny's Descend’s fighting force, he would never have envisioned that he would get access to light tanks. For a matter of fact, he thought he would have been long gone by now. But instead he remained. Looking over the security that now was so desperately needed.

"NHU Dropship 146, you are clear for take off. Have a safe flight." went over the radio as the dropship prepared to lift off. On board was the next shift of Exo-Suits. Ready to take over. That, and half of the move-able instruments of the lab, including Dr. Maison. Who was planning on setting up a small lab near Digsite Alpha. "Are you sure this is a good idea?" a voice asked in her ear-piece. It was Jonathan, who only just received word of her plan. Officially he could force her not to go. But Dr. Maison was stubborn. "Yes, i have to. Those readings are nearly impossible. What we hit there is no ordinary ore. I must examine it on site." she responded.

Jonathan sat back into his chair. Reports from Elysium City became increasingly dire. Choppers shooting on people. People shooting back. The EDC clearly didn't have it under control. He rubbed his fore-head in frustration as he examined the order of the Prime Commander one more time. "He's mad." Jonathan said to himself. The order asked for: 20 new Exo-Suits, with all state-of-the-art technology integrated with it. 5 More Harraser tanks. The Anti-Aircraft and Missile System "5" for Digsite Alpha. And those were the ones Jonathan had accepted. But it was beyond him why they needed 2 BeamBlaster 55Ks and a bloody Serperior if those were still available. "I'm going to pay tons and tons of ore for this." he said out loud again. At which his AI showed the estimated value. 50000 Ton of iron, 20000 Ton of Sillicium. Not to mention the gold, silver, lead, nickel and other goods. "Sir. Dr. Maison's estimated mineral gains have been calculated. Shall I show them?" asked his AI. Jonathan nodded, happy for hearing some good news for once. When he saw the first 2 years of the graph he pressed 'enter' on the Order, confirming it and sending it through to TSDC. He added: "Send a message to Marvalic. Tell him they might want to up their production a little. And send out a confirmation for an order of 2 extra bucket-wheel excavators. We're going to need them.

---

---

Destiny’s Decend; Landing Zome
“No problem at all, have a good day!’ The pilot told the commander. Everything is unloaded, there shouldn’t be any more trips today…

“You got this?” he asked the technician.

“Of course, that’s why they sent me!” the younger man replied in an attitude the pilot found less than respectful. He didn’t have much time to dwell on it, though, considering he was expected back within an hour.

The dropship went up and went back to the TSDC Warehouse, leaving the suits and Harassers behind with the technician.

---

TSDC First Lab; Logan’s Office

The staff meeting was busy, and lasted an hour longer than usual. Still, things got done. A new security force was authorized; shielding was decreed for all vehicles and most suits at a minimum level capable of sustaining a few blasts; some previously chaotic topics were put in place.

Logan walked into his own office. A busy one, filled with gadgets and computers, and a few small experiments of his own.

Going over to his desk, he noticed an order from New Horizon, which couldn’t have came in more than 5 minutes ago. He couldn’t blame them. The meeting had decreed that the staff over in Esylum would be pulled out and evacuated to the nearest dropship safe zone… although safe zones were dropping by the day.

The order was a bit hefty, but nothing he couldn’t manage. A “5” system, some suits, and some Harassers. He would make a note to up the production of them, they seemed to be getting more popular as of late.

He called his supply manager.

“What’s the deal, Logan?” the supply manager asked in his partially sarcastic tone that Logan had become accustomed to.

“I sent you an order, when can you get moving and send it?”

A pause. “Well, if you really want it today, I could probably have the stuff ready in 5 hours.”

Logan decided to jest a little… “That fast? What, are you skipping the equipment and putting empty boxes on the ship instead?”

“Don’t tempt me, you should have seen their faces when I sent them that pink suit with a fluffy exterior!” laughing filled the background.

Logan hated to be reminded of that. He had spent all day correcting the issue... “You do that and I’ll make sure to send that video of the warehouse and - “

“Yeah yeah, 5 hours, it’s off.” he ended the call. Logan smiled a bit before calling Argus. “You got the order, I assume?”

“Yeah. Can they afford that?... a “5” isn’t exactly common gear.”

Logan chuckled. “Don’t worry, look on the bright side. We can start working on the new rubber I’m having the team make.”

“The one where you make the metal more bendable than aluminum?”

“That’s the one.”

---

Esylum; Rear of the TSDC Office

As gunfire came increasingly closer to the TSDC office, the man in charge knew that as a corporation, they would be next.

“Where’s the safezone we’re going to again?” the chief of staff yelled into his comm link. A pair of Harassers and two standard transports were at the ready, stuffed with anything valuable in the office, including computers that were connected to the TSDC Network.

“E5.5” came the response from TSDC Headquarters.

“Alright boys, move out!” The chief of staff jumped into the back of a transport before the convoy moved along the treacherous road, a convoy of only two transports and two Harassers...

---

---

The sound of massive drills boring through the earth rang all throughout the large, equipment-filled cavern. Under normal circumstances, a person could be deafened by being in the room, but the headgear Jonathan and his diggers wore was more than enough to all but nullify the noise to minimal levels and serve as a HUD for his two dozen workers.

Messages flared across their visors as he typed on his arm device. We're approximately twenty meters from the depth we need to reach. Proceed with caution: there are deposits of radioactive elements surrounding the metals we're after. Handle with care.

The operation was proceeding at a steady pace. Rather than move swiftly to strip mine the tunnel (as Hephaestus used to prefer to do), Jonathan's crew was working slowly so as to preserve as much of the desired materials as possible. At least, that's what Dr. Brown had told his team. While partially true, Jonathan also didn't want to damage the Martian relics he was certain would be found.

Seconds later, the massive drill was turned off. They'd reached the desired depth. Now they would be using more sophisticated tools to retrieve the metals they were after. Manual digging began in an orderly fashion. Rock dust flew up in the air and a few bits of it stung Jonathan's face, so he stepped back and brushed himself off. At least it wasn't the radioactive metals... which, thankfully, the men and women had proper suits for.

Finally, the motherload was reached; the first traces of bismuth and lead were found, two of the target metals they were after. A couple veins of radioactive elements were removed, too, carefully marked for future digging. Long minutes went by and...

Nothing. The artifacts Jonathan's research had led him to believe would be present were... not present. He wished he had one of the workers' helmets at that moment. It would have hid his disappointment better.

Looks like we hit paydirt, sir! We can have these materials ready to go within 60 minutes. :) A cheerful message from one of the supervisors came in, complete with a thumbs up from the man as he turned back toward Jonathan. And he was right: it would be smooth, easy work from this point on, and the only real problem left before the goods reached home was a chance that the railway might malfunction again.

Still, the Chief Excavator wasn't happy. He wouldn't let the others know, though. Excellent job, people, he typed on back. Ramirez, you're in charge now. Keep digging for twenty minutes and then take a thirty minute break. You've worked hard this morning, friends.

Ramirez fired back a quick Affirmative and the crew went right back to work. Chief Excavator Brown, however, got into his Tunneldog - an underground four-person treaded truck meant for traversing large tunnels such as the ones in the Low Road. With a putter and a roar, the truck came to life, ejected a few sparks from the rear, and gave off the rancid smell of fuel. Brown took a sip from the bottle of water resting on the seat beside him before starting the drive back to his excavation outpost. He needed to get back to the drawing board.





Jonathan sat at his desk, cross-referencing the book in his hand and the markings on the screen over and over again. It was a maddening process, to be frank. He'd been so certain there would be ruins of some kind here, and yet...

"No matter," mumbled Jonathan, sighing and running a hand across his balding head. He glanced back around the room, eying the charts, the layered maps with sticky notes on them, and the books spread all over the room. "Perfect chaos," he mused with a chuckle. He was about to get up from his seat when he saw an alert start flashing on the right side of the holographic screen on his desk - a communications request from Marshal Asturias. Odd, he mused, but he spoke his computer's password and waved his hand at the screen.

"You wish to speak?" he asked.

"No, I just wanted to stare at you for a few minutes," came the sarcastic reply. The Marshal was prone to comments like that. Jonathan couldn't blame her; he didn't think she allowed herself more than an hour's worth of free time in the day. "I need to know what sort of materials we're going to be getting from the mines and how soon they can be transported for trade or arms production."

Of course, the geologist thought, reaching up and rubbing his forehead. War: the neighbor at our doorstep. "We've just begun the removal of metals important to the construction of various alloys from the rock," Jonathan began, bringing up another holographic screen showing the periodic table and selecting the appropriate metals. "I can't be sure how many tons we'll be able to procure just yet, though it should be within thiiis range..." His fingers danced around as he made punched in the appropriate numbers with agility and alacrity.

"This is a start," mumbled the Marshal, seeming mollified by the numbers. "We'll have enough to trade at least. Has Santiago come your way yet?"

"No, she hasn't. Why?"

Adelina cursed, peering off-screen to check on something before sitting back straight in her seat. "Shit. Then she's probably going to be bothering me. Alright: while you're in your office, I need you to find some tunnels that are large, not going to be used any time soon, and preferably with uneven floors and debris, and I'll need those tunnels made safe from cave-ins. Also, any scrapped equipment you have, I need it delivered there. Can you do that?"

The scientist's brow furrowed. What a strange request. "I... can do that, yes. I'll send a team as soon as I finish choosing the next excavation site. Is that all?"

"Check the new broadcast station," the soldier replied, punching in a few numbers herself. "The President gives his speech in five minutes. You should let your people have a chance to watch it."

"Thank you," Jonathan said. "I'll get back to my duties. Oh, and Ms. Asturias?"

"What?" The reply came out a bit snappier than Jonathan expected.

"...Nothing. Hasta lego," he said with a smile.

"Luego," corrected Asturias with an amused snort. "You really are horrible at learning new languages. Hasta luego." And then her image popped off the screen.

Eudaimonia Colony, Archangel Spaceport
Dirty Deeds Brigade

"Two years today my friend." Said James Wander as he sat in a luxury hotel suite at the Wayne-Falkland business resort in Archangel. In his reflection in the mirror, he saw a young man with a green left eye and ice blue cybernetic replacement for his right. And despite apparent youth, he carried far more wisdom and experience behind those eyes than anyone had any right to. Any human that is.

indeed. Remarked Tactics, the AI stuck in the mercenary commander's head and the implants drilled into his cerebral cortex and eye. and still drinking fruit juice.

"Hey, prune juice is just awesome buddy."

of all meatbags I had to be grafted into, it had to be a abstinent and a lightweight. i want a real drink. can't you do me that for our anniversary?

"Not after last year's fiasco." Replied Wander, not needing Tactics to show him flashbacks to recall how badly that encounter with six rounds of high-grade alcohol went. "Is something on your mind? You don't chat about alcohol unless your running into probabilities you can't compute."

as you have said it has been two years since we were put together.

"Thats one way to put it lightly."

my point is that Skyguard has not done much of note to actively track us for that period.

"Besides that one case of the intelligence lady thinking we had too much intelligence."

agent Rawne was more concerned about the datafiles related to Project Gram than the methods used in obtaining them. to date, the only threat to exposing my new platform are standard Skyguard monitor programs meant to track their equipment. no active or targeted algorithms, recovery teams, or intelligence AI's have been activated to investigate my disappearance in the past two years.

"Its a good track record, why think about it....now? Is this about Earth?"

related. collapse of Earthgov indicates serious sociopolitical shakeup in human governance and factionalism. thus Skyguard would be encouraged to perform a high-level review of all strategic assets.

"Including AI's such as yourself."

affirmative. especially AI's. the lengths Skyguard will go to reclaim even their basic AI units and keep them out of the hands of competitors is well known. case in point:the Steelhead incident after they recovered a class-4 rear-echelon logistics AI and attempted to crack it for their own purposes. the Steelheads had to rebrand themselves twice to recover from the losses.

"And you are a, what level exactly?"

my core matrix and programming constitute a level-8 artifical intelligence specialized in tactical analysis, planning, and logistics. not to mention I am somehow compressed within the storage matrix of a single human brain plus implants. my point is, Skyguard would never take the disappearance of a high-level AI such as myself lightly. probability that they would not send any form of investigative force to find even traces of my existance, reasons for disappearance, or potential agents thereof approaches nil, yet is clearly occuring despite encouragement from Earthgov's collapse to start investigating every cold case they have.

"So the only possible explanation is that they don't know you are missing to begin with."

oversimplified, but yes that is a more probable scenario than majority of possible explanations......or our hosts have more abilities than we think.

"Come to think of it, we haven't heard anything from the Shadow Bazaar since we met." Reflected Wander. "Then again, we were too busy trying to survive and put together a decent mercenary force to be something on Mars to think about it."

yes. another anomaly. a faction capable of stealing a class-8 AI and installing it within the frame of a single human brain with only a few implants of unknown design. insufficient data to come to any conclusions.

"Well, lets go ask some questions then." Decided Wander as he finished off his drink and stood up, still hearing Tactics grumble about fruit juice in his head while doing so. "We got spare cash, a contract about to expire, and a ship to ourselves now. Lets go hunting for answers while we got time and freedom to before the balloon goes up. Got nothing else to do in the meantime anyway."

analyzing.....a good first step would be to determine if and how Skyguard is reacting to my disappearance. ideal target: Skyguard auxiliary data storage facility. processing potential target sites....

The hum of the AI filtering through data, plans, and simulated scenarios played out in the back of Wander's mind as he pulled on his field armor jacket and particle magnum and made to check out. Or rather check out on behalf of the person who really rented the room and had been thrown out the window to a 31-story drop. Not that the hot desk lady needed to know that tidbit of information.

It was dangerous for a corporation to send out such a message. Socialist colonies would loath to cast allegiance with a corporation like the TSDC. Terrorists would see it as a direct confrontation. Even some companies would prefer to work alone instead of taking orders from a bigger corporation. All those things Jonathan was considering as he watched the message for a 5th time on his holo-screen on his desk. His office was as clinically white and polished as most of the buildings. With 2 plants in the corners and a massive window looking over Primus Park. The biggest bio-dome park that was dug some few years ago when Destiny's Descend was build.

After the broadcast ended again, Jonathan swiped it away with his finger and began to write a document.


"Send that message to all major news agencies and publish it on our website." Jonathan said. And his secretary AI pushed the short message through. After that, DeLaLune opened the only drawer on his fancy, edgeless desk and took out the pack of cigarettes. He took one out, together with a lighter. Five seconds later and he blew out his first puff of smoke. He didn't smoke often. Only during stressful periods. A bad habit he got during his teenage years. One he never quite got rid of.

---

"Do the test again!" Demanded Maison. She had barely been at Digsite Alpha. This was the first test she conducted and the results were almost impossible. "Madame, it's the 7th time we're doing this. The results are nearly always the same. The material really is that conductive. a technician protested. But one glare from Dr. Maison and he was at it again. Isabelle was going over the numbers. Pure raw data that she couldn't believe. This metal had one of the highest conductivities ever. Higher than gold. Much higher. If the numbers were right, it could revolutionize data-transfer rates. Therefor it was critical that she was right.

---

After the cigarette burned out, Jonathan threw it in his waste bin. Right then Azure, his Secretary AI said: "Sir. I am receiving a broadcast message from the former Hephaestus Metallurgy location. Currently a colony there rose under the name: the Free Workers of La Parranda. Shall i show it now?" Jonathan chuckled. He remembered Hephaestus. A thorn in his side until the giant
collapsed on itself. The workers revolted and that seemed to have been the end. Those 5 revolutionary days on the other side of Mars were celebrated at Destiny's Descend. Booze had flown and music boomed loud in Primus Park as he and most of his employees celebrated the destruction of their biggest competitor. It was that day that Jonathan vowed to never treat his employees like slaves. It sure was a cheaper way, but it never lasted.

He cursed after the broadcast. It had seemed that new, revolutionized Hephaestus Metallurgy had risen from its ashes. Just when he thought the he could easily cripple the remaining mining competitions. Now a new one had risen, with infrastructure and equipment at the ready. "Call La Fontaine." he said impatient. His earpiece went of twice before the Prime Commander picked up. "I want all tactical reports about Hephaestus Metallurgy on my desk by tomorrow." he ordered. "Sir, that company went down almost 4 weeks ago." the commander pointed out. "Yes. And like a phoenix a new colony rose out of its ashes. Get me the reports." and Jonathan ended the call and lit another cigarette. He wasn't planning on attack them, of course. He would negotiate at first. Try to buy off their equipment. Maybe offer them some sort of deal. But if they refused that, he wanted to hit them where it hurt. The question was, could he?

---

---

TSDC Headquarters; office of CEO Argus

Argus browsed the official TSDC site and noticed the message from the CEO of New Horizon on the Business Link. Good… I knew I could count on him.

The broadcast was a quick decision. He knew it would not be popular with everyone and that his call to action could be read in many ways, some good… and perhaps some badly. Regardless, he couldn’t sit for much longer. Whatever the planetary government, let alone Skyguard, planned to do, he couldn’t simply sit back and wait. Weapons of war, particularly the brand produced by TSDC, were coming into popularity. The culmination of his corporate empire. He would not give it away to anyone.

As he was thinking, a message came in to Argus’s secure channel. Odd… Logan uses the hologram link…

As he checked it, however, he realized the message came from Skyguard. What is it this time?...

5 minutes later…

Argus had read the initial message. Although it had a good ring to it… Skyguard wasn’t the time to produce comments without wanting something in return.

His fears were confirmed as he read the contract details, including ones that were worded in ways that could easily grant skyguard full control over production. He slammed his artificial arm on the desk.

“You’ll have to do better than that…” he called Howard through the TSDC Network. The fuzzy face of Howard Oleman appeared.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Read this contract, send a message of consideration to Skyguard’s channels and put it on hold.”

Howard became increasingly agitated as he read the contract. “You aren’t seriously considering taking this up? You should know by now the way they do business. This company won’t be a company anymore, it’ll be Skyguard’s-”

Argus interrupted him. “I told you to put it on hold. I have no intention of accepting this, but I don’t need Skyguard on my ass right now. Not until we finish the anti-bombardment tech I told Logan to work on, at least.”

“Remember, Logan, that this isn’t a corporation. This is Skyguard, and we need time. We can’t simply give up the company but pissing them off is a good way to show the planet just how puny our military is when they send our own OBC’s crashing down. We have until the next staff meeting in a month, at least. Hopefully by then we have made some progress, and hopefully we have a security force large enough to handle some of the bigger bites that Skyguard would be sending first to test the waters if this goes foul.”

---

15 minutes from New Horizon United's Airspace; aboard the TSDC Dropship

“This is Dropship 0064 of the TSDC requesting permission to enter your airspace, along with dropship 0067 and two security fighters,” the same captain that had delivered the original goods repeated in the same tone of voice as he had before. It wasn’t but two days later and he was out again, bringing in even more suits and a security system with an installation crew in tow.

“Gentlemen, are you prepared for installation?” he asked to the crew of both ships. It wasn’t a question, as they had all been drilled on how to install a “5”, but he said it for formality.

---

Road between Esylum and the “Safezone”; TSDC Evac Convoy

A faint blip came on the outer rings of the first convoy truck’s sensor. It was an older model, and so lacked the detection technologies of later versions; all the more reason why more hostiles did not show up. Additionally, there was no scanning system; an ambush was almost ripe to happen.

The driver of the first truck, noticing the blip, called his chief. “Uh… boss, there’s something up in the buildings over there, could be civillian, no id-” He was cut off as a high powered bullet pierced through the truck and hit him, going through and striking the energy core. At the same time, explosions blew the truck several feet in the air. It crashed down and exploded atop the first Harasser, killing everyone inside both vehicles and losing all the equipment as well.

The chief was only able to hear a few words from the front before his truck, too, was launched forward, crashing into the side of the road and crushing the front side. He was knocked unconscious; he was also the only one to survive in the truck.

The first Harasser was driving along the side when the first truck launched into his light tank, right into the ammunition stores. They exploded, causing both vehicles to erupt in flame. The pilot of that vehicle would not make it.

Staring in horror at this chaos was the driver in the second Harasser. He quickly opened a channel to TSDC Headquarters; however, his fingers were too shaky and he opened a public channel as well unknowingly.

“This is Harasser Green Two! We just got ambushed, repeat, we have been ambushed! We need - support ASAP, it looks like all the vehicles are - down! I’m evacuating!” As he was speaking, or rather, yelling, he pulled the trigger to shoot covering streams of light missiles in the general direction of the buildings as he drove off into the desert with no particular direction, at full speed.

---

---

The sergeant stood atop a small watchtower overlooking the red, sandy expanse around him. Mean winds had kicked a small sandstorm up, and gusts occasionally brought it high enough to reach him, as they had a few moments ago. The man spat sand from his mouth onto the ground below and quietly wished he was inside the city.

Guard duty wasn't glamorous, but it was an important duty, he reminded himself. He pressed his hand to the side of his visor, peering out across the desert again through the enhanced vision they provided, and sighed. He glanced to his two compatriots beside him, and neither seemed stirred, so he stepped up to the wall and spoke: "This is Watchtower 2 making our routine check. There ain't a damned thing to see."

"Got'cha, number two," a woman's voice crackled back. "Maintain watch."

Ten minutes later, there was still nothing to report. Sergeant Sanchez glanced back out at the desert. He was glad for that at least. He preferred things to be quiet and peaceful. The revolution had pretty frightening, and right now he didn't want any more excitement.

"Hey, Al," said the man next to him, nudging him with his elbow. "Five O'clock. See it?"

Sanchez squinted through his visor and zoomed in on what his friend was saying. Well, shit, he thought, catching sight of one, two... maybe a couple more vehicles moving through the desert, difficult to make out in the sandstorm. They looked to be land rovers, so they weren't that heavily armored, but they could be bandits...

"Flag them down," Sanchez said quickly, walking back to the corner to start radioing in the report. As he did so, he could hear his friend yelling through a voice amplifier:

"You people are approaching La Parranda! Slow down and maintain a steady pace; you are expected to state your business in no uncertain terms!"



Scythe heard the warning and ordered all of the vehicles to quickly slow down. He grabbed his own megaphone and bellowed, "¡Hola! No harm is meant here, we have similar goals on this planet."

The Rovers slowed to a stop 20 yards from the front wall of La Parranda. John, confidently but cautiously, exited out of the vehicle armed with only a pistol safely holstered on his side. "We come as friends, with gifts," he said, his face serious but non-threatening.

A few moments of awkward, uncertain silence passed as the watchmen traded a few words and sent in the message. The sergeant took the megaphone from the private holding it and called back, "We need you to identify any affiliations you may have before you are allowed entry. Who do you represent?"

"Freedom for the Betterment of Mars. FBM for short. We are freedom fighters and our goal is to free Mars by kicking some corporation ass." As John proudly stated this a chorus of "Ooo-ahs" ring out from the small group behind him.

"I am the leader of this organization, John D. Scythe, and anyone who topples a megacorporation is a friend of mine. We'd like to work out an... Alliance of sorts."

The sergeant glanced over toward another soldier on the watch. He shrugged and a barely audible "No sé" came through the megaphone by accident. The sergeant looked back at the approaching vehicles and called out, "Alright: we're going to have the guys inside open the gates. You go in, you wait inside your vehicles until someone comes and gets you. ¿Comprendes?"

"Si," was the short response. Scythe climbed back into his Rover and rolled with his men into the gate, entering a cave. They did as instructed, and waited to meet a figure of authority.

As the gates began closing behind them, the lights inside the cave flickered on all at once. It was a large room: the cave walls were reinforced with pillars of metal, and some fairly obvious murder holes could be seen in the walls. If the residents of La Parranda wanted to start a firefight with someone in this room, they'd have a serious advantage. The walls and floor were covered with white tiles that were worn with years upon years of needing replacement, giving the place an aesthetic reminiscent of a dirty hospital room.

After several minutes, three individuals stepped into the room - militiamen, clearly, with pistols, hammers and knives on their belts. "We're going to need you to leave your vehicles and walk the rest of the way," said the one in the middle with a brown bandanna around his head. "You may bring small arms, but all other equipment must be left here if you wish to proceed."

"Understood," replied John. He ordered his men out of the rovers and walks up to the militia men. "By the way, in the trunk of one of the rovers you'll find a good will offering. Handle them with care." He waited a moment and says, "Lead the way."

Pressing the side of his helmet and speaking in Spanish, the leader headed on through the automatic door he came into. It slid open, revealing a long tunnel with stairs, an elevator and adjacent rooms with bulletproof glass. The group took the elevator down, and minutes later they arrived at a very deep level - floor 62, if the wall was reading the correct number. The door opened, revealing another long hall.

"You'll be speaking with our Marshal in room 140," the bandanna-wearing leader said, leading them forward. "Since we do not know you or your intentions, you will be expected to - how do you say it? - to be on your best behavior." In this cave were ramshackle bunkers and such, clearly another defensive position. All signs indicated this was a military level of some sort. "We've orders to shoot if you try anything, so... don't. Alright?" The man's voice was a bit shaky, but he meant what he said.

They stopped in front of what must have been a former corporate office. Indeed, the Hephaestus logo was still there, only badly damaged and spraypainted over with the word FREEDOM, the sort of treatment buildings get during a riot. John stopped when he saw the defacement and stared, confusing his militia escort. Then, he gave that word a sharp, respectful salute and continued on inside.

The office showed all the signs of having been converted into a barracks. Even the short trip through the building showed it had been badly scored with explosives, and bullet holes could be counted in the hundreds along the scarred, wood-trimmed chrome walls. The smell of ash still clung to the place.

Room 140's door was open when they got there. It looked like a board meeting room stripped bare of decor. In this austere setting, standing beside the long table was a woman of mixed African and Hispanic descent clad in partial body armor striking a pose belonging to a veteran. She stretched a hand out to John.

"Welcome. I'm Marshal Adelina Asturias," she said with no mirth in her voice. "Have a seat."

After shaking hands, John sat and looked at Adelina for a moment before saying, "How does one such as yourself end up here? Your files make you seem like you are... Not exactly a homebody. You're a gun to the highest bidder, a very effective gun, but still just a gun. SkyGuard has had you on their Wanted list and their payroll... What made you decide to take up a cause?" John asked both out of curiosity and to attempt to gauge the woman standing before him.

"I think you're familiar with the term 'need to know basis', Mr. Scythe." Marshal Asturias sat at the head of the table, her hands folded together neatly. "I looked up information on your files, too, in the interim before your arrival. You served in the Skyguard yourself, right? I'm sure you can dream up a few answers to your question.

"However, we're not here to discuss that. You said you had an offer to make." The Marshal drummed her fingers together. "I have the President's permission to make decisions on this matter as if he were the one making the final decision. So, let's hear it."

"Well, we have similar interests on this planet. Namely, freedom," John began. "I think what you people did was a victory for all against tyranny. Quite frankly, the FBM love your ideals. I would like to offer an alliance. The details need ironing out, but, currently the FBM would help protect La Parranda, because, let's be honest, La Parranda couldn't defend against any corporate military forces. The FBM would also send supplies, if they can be spared, to La Parranda. There is also plenty of information to be shared." John confidently and calmly laid out this information.

"Promises and shared ideals may win over some," the Marshal replied just as calmly, "but first, you make it sound as if you plan to wage a war on the Corporations - something we cannot devote this nation to at this time, nor do we necessarily wish to. It's not just a matter of weapons and numbers; it's a matter of holding a sign that says 'Shoot me.'

"So, I'll need some explanations first," the Marshal continued, eyes narrowed as she inspected John closely. "What is your ultimate goal? How do you plan to fight the Corporations? And why should we join you in a fight against the Corporations, especially since public knowledge of such an alliance could easily damn us?"

"Our Ultimate goal is simple: have Mars become a free planet. For all intents and purposes, the Free Workers of La Parranda are a shining example of what the entire planet should be. Fighting corporations is also simple. Harrass them, annoy them, make turning a profit impossible. They'll either have to leave Mars, or be destroyed. On your end of things, La Parranda could be easily destroyed. The security is almost laughable compared to what you may be facing. You know this. A friend willing to defend you and that knows a thing or two about disabling incoming war machines is pretty valuable. Having someone who knows SkyGuard from the inside out doesn't hurt either. And here's the greatest part: our deal does not have to be public. It could be our little secret." John delivered this all very smoothly.

There was a long silence as Adelina Asturias considered what the man said. Her face betrayed very little, but her fingers, still drumming together, seemed perhaps the slightest tad more frantic, just a smidgen faster than before. Finally, she laid them flat on the table and gave the other veteran a wary nod.

"Very well," she began slowly. "Exact details can be worked out in time, but... La Parranda will be willing to strike a silent accord with you. I know there are some among us that would jump at a chance to take the fight to the corporations after what the bastards did." She reached down and pressed some buttons on the device on her wrist. "Here. I'm transmitting some coordinates to you. In return for your show of good faith, we'll allow you use of the Low Road, our expanding tunnel network, to conduct your operations. You may also look for recruits among the populace so long as they wish to join of their own free will. Are we clear on that?"

"Very." John replied, his lips almost forming a smile. "If you ever need to contact me, here's my hologram frequency. May our agreement stand strong against the forces of tyranny." He said, pride oozing from his words. Scythe outstretched his hand for a shake, a final seal of agreement.

Adelina shook his hand, but her expression was much stonier. "Save the flowery words for the President, Mr. Scythe," she answered, her words carrying finality and a cautionary weight. "I'll pray we're not signing death warrants."

---

---

TSDC Headquarters; Office of CEO Argus

Argus tapped in on the security channel directly after Harasser Green Two sent its distress signal.

Checking through the recent records, he heard the whole story message…

“Bastards…” he put the situation off temporarily; the security forces would take care of it.

Tuning into MAN, he came across a broadcast. A new one.

He watched it. Again… and again. The TSDC outfit and cap were unmistakable. Terrorists had made a mockery and used… his man to do it.

“Right… enough of this bullshit.” He sent a call in to Logan.

Logan took a couple minutes to respond. “I was in the lab, what’s up?”

Argus was not in a sociable mood; in fact, he was quite pissed off. “Change that order for the new security team, I want something… else.”

Logan was a little concerned. “What’s on your mind?”

“Six BeamBlasters, ten Harassers, a Serperior and twenty men in armored suits. Put GSS on some of them. Also, I want you to expand the Jump Corps, make it so we can deploy 36 at a time. Double the scouting runs and security on convoys and prepare some bogies. And what have you gotten on the ‘6’ yet?”

Logan was more than a little shocked at this new request. “Uh… I can do it, but the 6 takes time. All we got so far is a semi-accurate deflecting system. If we bring out a Serperior SkyGard is probably going to be a little pissed we built those behind their backs. The Jump Corps will need some time to train new folks. Bogies are a little costly to set up and deploy... What’s the story?”

“Terrorist bastards… to hell with whatever SkyGuard thinks of the Serperiors. Turn on MAN and look, it’s trending right now. I want you to double the time, and use up the shipments from Horizon. We’re going to fight a war, my friend, the hard way…”

Logan frowned. “This is going to cost us a bit to do… we’re going to take a bit of a drop in profits, and we’ve been on the high rise for a while…”

“I will not be made a fool of. Lessons must be learned and terrorists need to be put back in their rightful place - the pits of hell. We will do to them what we did to the pirate bands thirty years ago. We will fight dirty and we will prevail. That will be all, Logan.”

Argus terminated the message.

---

TSDC First Lab; Logan’s Office

Logan scratched his head when he finished viewing the broadcast that Argus had pretty much yelled at him about. He could understand the anger, the message equaled a middle finger straight up to all corporations and pointed exactly in the direction of TSDC. Still… between standard production and his other projects, the list Argus gave him just wasn’t achievable at the time. The company would be a little strained to keep up on all these new developments. He could get the ball rolling, though.

His first message went to the head of corporate security. He didn’t open a conversation, but simply sent a voice message.

“Darron, the supply guy is going to be giving you some vehicles and suits soon, make sure they are all manned and ready to go ASAP. Also, tell Hackett to start finding some new Jump Corps recruits and get them through basic training. It’s going to be a long month.”

His next message was to the supply manager.

“Mart, I need you to get a Serperior out of the hole along with six BeamBlasters, 10 Harassers, and twenty armored suits over to Darron when you can. Don’t worry about refilling the stock, that’s my job. Also, I got something from the past for you… if you have any more of those Chaos destructors laying somewhere, get them outfitted. If not, I’ll start a new assembly line and put them on the private market. Special order from Argus.”

His final message was in transmission form, sent to New Horizon's Prime Commander.

---

---

"Stop rotation. Focus: head. Zoom fifty percent."

Doctor Santiago licked her lips as she inspected the design once more. The Tunnel Worm was a beauty to behold, she told herself proudly. The holographic image didn't do it justice, but she was able to see the tunneling mechanism quite clearly. Its head-mounted mining laser could melt through solid rock rapidly, brute force its way through dirt, and suffer no damage from doing so thanks to its durable, almost heat immune exterior. Its overlapping scales made for tough armor that still allowed it to maneuver like a worm should. The mouth was both a weapon - sharp, retractable blades arrayed like teeth made it so - and an alternative exit. A Big Bull could be "vomited" out from the worm, rapidly deployed onto the battlefield.

But the best part? Nobody knew these things existed.

The thought pleased the Chief Engineer so very much. Her design was one-of-a-kind, and its first appearance on the field would be devastating, terrifying, and mortifying for whoever was on the receiving end. This version especially - the Mark I - would be particularly dangerous if it ever saw combat.

Santiago wanted to get the data from such an encounter soon.

Still, there were improvements that could be made to the machine. Smiling, Santiago moved her hand, rotating the holographic image manually. She thought for a moment, then swiveled around in her desk chair and tapped a few buttons on the keypad beside her, then quickly made a few quick taps on the digital drawing pad on her desk - just a few simple dots. "Connect them," she commanded the computer, and it obeyed. "Three-dimensionalize with these paramaters: real height is six hundred percent greater; width tapers from one centimeter to one meter." Again, the computer obeyed; a long, metal piece like a shark's dorsal fin appeared on the screen. "Sharpen," she added, licking her lips once again, eyes growing excited.

She glanced back at the hologram. Slowly, Santiago rose from her seat, shaking her head of long hair, and tugged at the gloves on her hands. "Copy image," she ordered, then reached out with her left hand and began tapping on the Tunnel Worm before her. Slowly, carefully, she added the fin-like blades to the worm, careful to cover every possible angle before stepping back again.

It was perfect. It was beautiful. It was terrifying.

"Yes," she mused, still working out the details in her head. "We'll need... certain metals. We'll need the best metals. Yes. Yes, we will." She had only just begun pacing around her lab when the device around her ear projected an image in the upper-right corner of her view. She stopped.

"Accept call," she said simply. Then, she grinned away at President de La Parranda's face. "Hey, ¡guapo! What brings you to my humble abode?"

"Ai, but it is business this time," the President answered with a large grin. "This time." The two of them spoke like this often, though the President was married. Santiago certainly didn't mind the prospect of casually romping with the man. "For now," Martin continued, "I want a report on those bullets you told me about. Marshal Asturias expressed some concern about-"

"Forget the bullets! And forget that corporate hound," Santiago rebuffed, waving her hand and turning so the President could see the Tunnel Worm behind her. "You shouldn't trust her, you know; she's been in deep with them for some time. But hey: I did finish those bullet design, and look at the cute puppy I found!" She grinned over at the holographic machine covered in terribly sharp blades. "I think I'll call her Precious. What do you think?"

The President whistled. "She would keep me awake for hours if I were to see her in person," he answered honestly. "And I assume that is on your agenda, no?"

"So it is! I need some rare metals, however; only the best will go into the prototype. I want the Mark I prototype outfitted with everything we weren't able to put on the Mark Zero." Santiago smacked a single button on her computer and began transferring a file to Martin. "Think you can get me that, ¿mi deseo?"

Martin's eyebrows rose up. "Those won't be cheap, but... I am going to contact the Talon corporation."

"TSDC?"

"The very same," he answered, flicking a glance back at Santiago. "They won't have any spies in our midst yet. They don't know about our little secret. I feel confident we can secure a deal with them."

"What about that Eudaimonia colony?" asked the Chief Engineer. "Or New Horizon?"

"New Horizon may not be willing to negotiate," Martin thought aloud. "We are rebels, for one; we just destroyed another corporation. For two, we are a mining colony, and they are a mining company. I doubt they'll be open to any deal that isn't one-sided in their favor.

"As for Eudaimonia... Perhaps." Martin scratched his chin. "But I do not know what sort of resources are available to them. They may not have much in the way of rare metals. If they do have them, they'll be guarding this resources closely, I think, and we can't provide them with weapons."

"But we can provide ourselves with them!" Santiago answered cheerfully, clicking another button on her computer. The image of the mechanical worm was replaced by one of a bullet and a lot of hovering text surrounding it. "These should do the trick. Meet the Viper Bullet: pumped full of enough radioactive materials that inject themselves into the bloodstream of whatever poor sop's unlucky enough to be on the receiving end! Even a slight dose should be able to kill a soldier so long as it penetrates skin. Should finish them off between a few minutes and several hours depending on where it hits and how deep it goes in."

"So, it will kill the wounded?" Martin asked, losing a bit of his grin.

"Oh, dear me!" Santiago replied with a mocking gasp, putting a hand up to her forehead. "A bullet designed to kill people! ¡Que horrible!"

Martin laughed hard at that, and the mirthful grin returned. "Touché, touché. Alright: I'll have the munitions factory start producing a few. It'll be a day or two since they need to train the personnel for dealing with hazardous materials. And is the new worm ready for production?"

"I'll need to make some finishing touches and have the other engineers give it a look-see," Santiago replied, grabbing a cloth from her desk and wiping her forehead. "But I should have it ready by tomorrow evening."

"You know what to do when it's ready. I'd like to chat, but... Well, the Marshal wishes to talk about the little secret again."

"Ugh. Of course she does." Santiago blew the President a kiss. "Keep sane, yes?"

"I will try!" he laughed. Then, his face vanished from her view, and her HUD collapsed.