Travertine sat down to breakfast in his tiny apartment in Ragnarok and opened his newspaper. He hadn't been able to establish his own practice since being demobilised. No one in the whole station seemed to need a doctor except in cases of emergency and the current tensions made it hard to travel to find work without a free trader's license. Besides, Ragnarok was home. Drifting from job to job was not ideal, it's just that he couldn't seem to find one that suited him. But the rent wasn't going to pay itself.

Scanning the job offer ads didn't bring much hope. Most were part-time jobs wiping windows or at one of various retail stores or some such nonsense. There was an opening in maintenance repairing the station's ceiling girders, but Travertine doubted he could stomach the heights. One job was for cleaning up suicides: not the most cheery job, but Travertine was no stranger to death and the pay was good.

Then there was an ad for a team of people experienced in warrens-diving to go and find a missing maintenance team. Now that sounded exciting. Travertine grabbed his telephone and called the number given for inquiry.

“Hello, The Yelling Mechanic's Hardware Store, what can I do ya for?” Answered asked a loud but friendly voice,

“Hello, I'm calling about the ad you put in the paper.”

“Outstanding!” Travertine could feel the man on the other end beaming; “You have experience in spelunking?” Whilst technically all people in the entire Devil's Basement were spelunking at all times (except on rare visits to the surface), the term had come to refer to travelling anywhere off the beaten track outside the main rail-tunnels.

“I served in the Second Line War. I can handle myself under stress in the dark and I know my way around a weapon.”

“Good, good. Do you know anyone else who might take the job? Four or five should do.”

“Not a problem. I've patched up my fair share of people in my career, some of them more than once. If I'm going down there though, I need to know who these people who've gone missing are and what I can be expecting to encounter.”

“They're a group of sub-contractors I hired to do some routine maintenance on some Union military bases. They were supposed to be at the next outpost last night but never showed up. As for what to expect, there's the usual wild pigs and dogs, pit vipers, and wolf-spiders. The soldiers haven't been as diligent as usual in keeping the population of local nasties down due to tensions over the Line.

“What I'm really worried about though are the rumours of....” the man paused and when he resumed he did so in a hushed tone: “rumours of slavers in that area. Wildmen who kidnap travelling miners and mechanics and take them through Almighty-only knows what route in the warrens to some stations either in the 2/3 Alliance or on the 1st Ring to sell them into 'indentured servitude'—a polite term for slavery. According to the rumours, this gang is led by a pair of ex-Republican military men who still address each other as 'comrade,' so that's what people call them.”

* * *

“JUMP!!” Kyanite screamed at the top of her lungs before grabbing her toolbox, flinging open the door and leaping out to land rather uncomfortably across the rails of the track. OC-1 didn't feel any strong inclination to get away from the tear gas as his lungs and eyes were unaffected, but he decided he'd better stick with Kyanite so he jumped as well. Away the train sped, leaving the two in total darkness. As OC-1 got to his feet, lights suddenly shone directly in their eyes, blinding them, and a voice rang out:

“Put down your weapons or we'll shoot. Which we'd rather not do.” The voice was referring to the tunnel guns both OC-1 and Kyanite had at their waists. Travelling unarmed was not something one did these days.

“Gentlemen, may I ask what this is about?” Asked OC-1 as he put his hands up, “We only have weapons for self-defence. We were just being paid to do some repairs down here.”

“Put your tunnel guns down, and then we'll talk.”

Sensing that the best choice for continued operation of his system was to comply, OC-1 slowly took his tunnel gun out of its holster and placed it on the ground.

“Huh? Wassis about?” Kyanite slurred as she got to her feet, swaying slightly and holding her head.

“It appears we are being kidnapped, Kyanite.” Replied her companion, “This was definitely on my list of possible outcomes when I considered when taking this job, but I ignored it because I considered it profoundly unlikely. Well, even small percentages turn out to be correct sometimes.”

Kyanite had no intention of being kidnapped. There had to be some way to fight back or distract them and get away. She faked dry heaving and tried to squint past the lights to catch a glimpse of their assailants.

“Hey, we're still here you know.” The voice spoke again, “And we've still got our guns pointed at you, so put your guns down!”

“Just... hold on...” Answered Kyanite between heaves. With no other lights in the tunnel looking past the flashlights was like staring into a spotlight and trying to see who was standing behind it. She looked at her surroundings trying to find some kind of cover.

OC-1, however, could see past the flashlights in infrared and he didn't like their odds of resistance.

“Kyanite,” He said, “we are in a compressed cavern used for the transportation of goods via locomotive. What are you looking for?”

“PUT YOUR WEAPONS DOWN OR I START FIRING!” Screamed the voice behind the lights;

“Listen you incompetent biological worm,” OC-1 started, still standing patiently with his hands up;

“One!” The voice counted,

“I put my weapon down a long time ago.”

“Two.”

“If you're going to shoot anyone, shoot the girl!”

It was now or never. In one deft motion, Kyanite slipped open the latches on her toolbox and flung it at the lights. Several cries rung out as the toolbox crashed open and sent tools flying in every direction. Kyanite leapt for the closest wrench. For a fleeting second the lights were pointed in all directions at once and she caught a glimpse of four humanoid silhouettes.

Meanwhile, OC-1 had realised what was about to happen before the toolbox left Kyanite's hand and tried in vain to dissuade her:

“Kyanite, don't be brash and get my mainframe injured!” He wanted to add; “Can you just shoot her and not me? I complied with your demands.” But he didn't have time before several loud pops rang out.

Stinging pain hit Kyanite in the chest and shoulder followed swiftly by a boot to the face, which then pinned her to the ground.

“Damn, I hate the ones that make me waste ammo. Do you know how hard it is to make a living out here without spending extra on rubber bullets because of people like you?” Kyanite smiled through bloodied teeth, which earned her another kick before the kidnapper removed her tunnel gun, rolled her over and held her hands behind her back. Another one of the kidnappers approached OC-1 and picked his tunnel gun off the ground while two others handcuffed the prisoners.

* * *

Right about that time, Rook was deeply immersed in the Ragnarok Archives. Not sure where to start, he had looked up the names of the CEO, board of directors, and stockholders of Ragnarok Habitational Services then cross-referenced them with other companies and had come up with some fascinating results. Several of the directors not only held large shares within RHS—enough to rule the corporation as an oligarchy if they had the inclination—they also owned similarly large shares in two weapons manufacturing companies. Dawnseeker Arsenal sold weapons to the People's Republic. Amber Ravine Military Hardware sold weapons to the Collective Union.

Since both were headquartered in politically independent stations, they avoided the direct scrutiny of any of the three major powers inside the 1st Ring while the stockholders could get rich off tensions over the Line and RHS would snap up contracts to fix everything in the aftermath.

Rook also found out that both corporations had been steadily decreasing in profits in the past few years—a result of tensions gradually lessening over the decade since the armistice. However, it was then that the Red Wolves were formed. Repeated attacks on the life and property of Collective Union citizens, as well as its military outposts caused tensions to spike—and also caused profits to spike for the two weapons producers.

Conveniently, the Red Wolves had saved the two corporations from having to massively down-size. But motive alone was not enough. It had become clear Rook needed to investigate the Red Wolves—who they really were, what their true motives were, and who funded them.

Rook faxed the names of the suspicious persons and other details he had found to Lieutenant Bluescales and left the Archives. It was time to pay his employer a visit.

* * *

The group noticed the train backpedalling towards them.

“Ah,” Said OC-1, “It appears our boss is coming back for us. Will you surrender quickly and tell us what you want before there is inevitable conflict?” Now that the lights weren't all aimed directly in his face, OC-1 could see their captors and noted each one's face for future reference, ideally in a court of law.

“Your boss?” Asked the leader. He was dressed in a uniform of the Red Army of the People's Republic of Ragnarok. The other three included a human woman and two zene males, each of whom wore a mixture of ragged clothing: all four also wore a headlamp, a backpack and a cloak that could double as a sleeping bag. Judging by their appearance and the leader's comment about 'living out here,' it seemed the best guess was that they were wildmen—people cast out of their stations for criminal activity (or for getting the wrong people mad).

It quickly became clear what the leader meant by his latest wisecrack.

“Sergeant! What's with all the yelling? Do you want to bring a clutter of wolves down on us?” The new voice came from the back of the mechanics' train but didn't belong to either Gifrag or Amber, it belonged to a somewhat older man also in a Red Army uniform and cloak.

“Aw, come on Comrade Colonel, we're in a military zone: isn't the army supposed to take care of those things?” Answered the man standing over Kyanite,

“You know as well as I do that the army doesn't have the stomach to go beyond the rail-tunnels. There could be a nest of them just beyond that door.” Retorted the Colonel. As if to punctuate his statement, the door he pointed at swung open and out popped another half a dozen armed humans wearing headlamps.

“Drop your weapons!” They demanded;

“What the hell Comrade, why'd you have to jinx us?!” The Sergeant wanted to know,

“Shit, wildmen captured by dwellers?” Cursed the Colonel,

“Yes yes, very embarrassing.” Said one of the newcomers, “Now put down your weapons.” The newcomers were standing on the raised pedway along the side of the tunnel and had their weapons ready, so the wildmen capitulated.

“All we want is the prisoners. All four of them.”

“Four? What do you mean four?” Asked the Colonel,

“Don't play dumb with me. You've got two more in the locomotive cabin.”

The Colonel sighed. “Bring them back here!” He shouted. Two more wildmen, hands in the air, led Gifrag and Amber to the back of the train. The four had their handcuffs removed and climbed a ladder up to the pedway.

“You'll regret this.” The Colonel told the newcomers, “You don't want a gang of angry wildmen tracking you through the warrens.” He was ignored by the newcomers, who filed back through the door with the mechanics in the middle of the line.

They found themselves in one of the innumerable small walking tunnels that branched off the rail-tunnels. It was a narrow hall presumably built for maintenance purposes. Kyanite spit congealing blood out of her mouth and slid the wrench she had grabbed off the ground up her sleeve. OC-1 couldn't help noticing all of their captors had a black armband with a red spider-wolf on it. His databanks told him this was the insignia of the Red Wolves.

“Thanks for the rescue,” Amber spoke up, but the leader of the group silenced her;

“We should get to our base before we talk.”

Walking in deathly silence, they soon reached the base. It was an abandoned atmospheric monitoring station once used to keep tabs on the atmosphere deep in the bowels of the secondary and tertiary rail-tunnels beneath Ragnarok. Outside the door were four more Red Wolf fighters with a spotlight and a tripod-mounted railgun pointing in each direction—the hall continued beyond the monitoring station to parts unknown.

“What's the password?” Called one of the sentries before they got too close;

“Fuck Hellbringer!” Chancellor Hellbringer, glorious leader of the Collective Union of Ragnarok, of course.

“Welcome back comrades! You sure weren't gone long.”

Inside was a large room that had once contained computers and other equipment but everything of value had been stripped away leaving only some bare metal desks and chairs. Several maps of the local area were spread out on the desks visible in the light of lamps set out next to them. In one corner a kitchen was set up and in another corner were laid out fourteen military-issue cots, indicating the group had four more members not at the base at the moment.

“Now,” the leader turned to face the four, “you're welcome for the rescue. How did it go installing the special equipment and the program?” OC-1 and Kyanite got the feeling they just heard something they weren't supposed to.

“Er... good.” Stammered Gifrag. Amber didn't seem fazed at all.

“It went fine.” She responded.

“Something wrong?” The leader asked Gifrag,

“They weren't supposed to know about the special equipment or the program. They were last-minute additions to the mission.” Gifrag nodded at OC-1 and Kyanite,

“I see. Well, we'll have to keep them here until after the uprising then. They're both human.” The leader glanced at OC-1. “Partly human, at least. I'm sure they can be persuaded to see things our way. How about it? Aren't you tired of the way the Collective Union treats our kind? Nevermind. It's late and you must be tired. Feel free to take a rest—you won't be leaving this base for a while.”