Chapter 8: Breakout

Crucis II - Pyre’s Cliff, North Edge of Havens Hold

Date of 241.08-29

“So, should we decide on a uniform or what?”

“Uniform?” Hobbes kicked a decent sized rock off the edge, watching it bounce and roll towards the bottom. “Since when were you joining a professional military?”

“What’s the difference between that and falling in line under Greth?” Matt scanned the building tops of Haven’s Hold, particularly the newly constructed steeple. The metalwork was something to admire. The architect was so skilled that angels would be more feared than demons. “For rebellion or order, it’s the same schtick. You have a different takeaway?”

“Can’t deny you have a point, but a uniform would give him too much credit.”

Hobbes turned away from the cliff edge and sat on a worn boulder, a seat carved into one corner over many sittings in time. The bells in town notified them that it had just hit noon. Matt turned to face the encroaching jungle that would claim any ignorant soul to wander in.

“I’m still on board, as is Greta and the rest of them." He wiped the thick sweat from his brow, a gift from the unrelenting sun. "As long as Greth keeps the money flowing then we’ll keep pulling the trigger. Of course, times could change.”

“Too easy, but I know that works for you.” Hobbes adjusted his black kettle cap to shield his eyes. “Though, you do sound like a broken record so you know."

He had put away his uniform attire in exchange for loose pants and t-shirt, allowing his aged muscles to flex what they had left. To his credit, they had more left than most his age. Hobbes was no slouch when it came to physical conditioning.

“As long as it pays my dues, I’ll whistle the same tune all day long."

"A dead man can't pay his debts." Hobbes fumbled a hand inside a pocket. "Or have y’all moved on with that risk?”

“Was never a peace to make." Matt shrugged. "Might as well side with the money before it happens. If I bail, it's because of politics or there are better offers."

Such was the glorious life of a mercenary…

“That so? Living ain’t a better offer? Or better yet, what has Jayne said about it?" Hobbes held his favorite silver canteen in hand, the cap halfway off. “I hope you're not the next one down for her sake.”

Matt’s throat dried up for a few seconds. They had talked, and that intersection Hobbes mentioned on their hunting trip had reared its head a little.

“We spoke, and I’m still going to set her up elsewhere.” A cool wind rustled the jungle’s leaves before blowing in Matt’s face. “Other factors are undecided right now. But you’ll be happy to hear, you were right.”

Hobbes looked confused. “Pardon me?”

“That quote, between lifestyle and her.”

“Ah, every now and then I speak a little wisdom.” Hobbes stood, brushing debris off the best he could with one hand. “Well, think about it on the next job. You should have some down time while strolling through a prison.”

“Need I remind you I'm just visiting, not an actual prisoner.” Matt ruffled his hair. “You gonna be able to handle Braxton and the others while I'm gone?”

“He can’t be more of a pain in the ass than you.” Hobbes closed the gap between the two. “And yes, you can be quite the pain if you want.”

“True, or Greth for that matter.” Matt eyed the canteen still out. “Hey, give me a taste.”

“The fuck?” Hobbes handed it over in a bit of shock. “I believe this is the first time you’ve ever asked, willingly.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Matt let his fingers feel the engraving on the front, Krona's emblem. A few haunts from the past skimmed his mind. "Every now and then deserves a first. Plus, I got a feeling I'll need it.”

The liquid went down fast and hard. It was bitter, but the kick rejuvenated him. Feeling or not, he would need a few kicks before this was all over. Greth was the kind of person that gave off those vibes.

"You're welcome, by the way." Hobbes took the canteen back, hesitated and then asked. “So…what kind of uniform were you thinking about?”

~~~

Boros System - Deep Space Asteroid Belt

Blacklight Holding - Coalition Prison

Date of 241.09-20

Inside the transport, most were relaxed and enjoyed a smoother ride than Linova. It was a more enjoyable trip with no raging blizzard present. Matt confirmed that fact from the cockpit viewport, as he and the pilot exchanged words. With any luck, this operation would be straight and easy. However, Matt knew the track record and already had ‘plan B’ plus more in the works.

The initial idea was simple. Under the guise of Coalition facade, they would gain entry into the facility. Once inside, they would search out their targets and prepare to extract before all hell broke loose. The validity of forged documents being assumed of course. Their trick was a PFN similar to the one Vorosh used before. It was heavily modified in a number of ways, as in a secondary EMP for one. Scramble the protection and hit the system before it can realize it's under attack. Sadly, this would only target the primary systems and not any backups.

“Everyone on the same page, right?” A grumble of affirmations sounding more like groans filled the rear compartment. Matt heard Greta add to it before she continued. “A little more positivity wouldn't kill you.”

“Sure thing, mom.” Freeman joked back.

Grown adults yet kids all the same, and armed to the teeth to kill…

This mission was outside of their normal shindig. Violent confrontations were the team’s speciality, not putting on a masquerade. Still, it did not mean they were incapable of pulling this off.

Matt heard the thump of Greta's ass to seat and voice after. “Matt, tell me at least you’re upbeat for this?”

“Sure, I just keep it all bottled up inside.” He walked back into the rear compartment. “Wondering when and where this is going to backfire though, as it always does.”

“You sense it too?” The suit’s armor plates scraped as she turned in her seat. “Good, not only me then.”

The majority of their past contracts dealt with various merchants, pirates, or emphatic entrepreneurs. They usually had an idea of what could go wrong. Hanging around Greth, the parameters were perceived a little differently. It felt as if anything could go sideways.

“Murphy’s Law be damned, we’ll make it through.” Matt eyed the remaining members of his team. “The rest ready?”

“We’re good.” She cursorily glanced back before tugging hard at her suit. “Can't wait to be done and out of these, too stiff.”

The combat suits of the Coalition integrated more hard plates than synthetic fiber. It provided more protection, but at the cost of reduced mobility and comfort. It was a kind of suit you had to get used to and neither of them were keen about it.

“Adapt and overcome, you'll live.”

“Sure, what’s the worst that can happen?" She grinned. Matt did not feel an urgent need to acknowledge said statement. “Also, are you still carrying your good luck charm?”

“Of course.” He instinctually went to grab the talisman hanging around his neck, unable due to the suit. His fingers instead hooked the collar. “I hope I don’t use up all my luck.”

Greth tasked them because they were the best, or more accurately, the best available. Vorosh must have put in a good word, or at least passed on the details of Linova. Matt got the impression they were Greth's go to muscle while under his employment.

So here they were, an asteroid belt in the middle of nowhere. A mass of floating rocks and a prison built in the middle of it. Their target was a formerly influential officer, one the Coalition would prefer to not let run wild. If according to plan, under 24 hours and this would be a bad memory at worst.

Freeman and Lydria would track the supply crate containing their PFN device. Freeman was also the trigger man, courtesy of Matt. Hines and Leon would help identify shift patrols and navigate their path out. Matt and Greta would handle the important talking from start to finish. Once all hell let loose, their pilot would need to be on point for pickup.

“Alright boys and girls, get ready to play charades.” The pilot belted over the intercom. “What happens next is all on you.”

Matt walked into the cockpit and draped his arm along the headrest. “Thanks for the ride. No chance I can get you to stick around?”

“Nope, prison protocol says I get forced out.”

“Figured, but worth an ask.”

Of course, the warden wouldn’t let a potential crisis sit around in the hangar unchecked…

“Uh huh.” The pilot sarcastically uttered back.

Matt turned back to the others as the transport jolted to a stop on the ground. “Listen up, Greta and I do the talking. The rest of you enjoy the ride and hope this works.”

On that motivational line, a mechanical hiss of the pistons sounded off. The rear slab of metal lowered until it touched the ground. Waiting on the other side was a small welcoming party with what looked to be a fairly important officer at the front.

She was short and a little stout, around mid 30s. Holding her head high, there was an air of arrogance in her posture and her face locked in a permanent state of disgust. She wore a dress uniform in the official black and grey pattern of the Coalition, a gold lining around her cap. Her brunette hair was pulled back into a ponytail.

“Hurry up, I’m the administrator here.” Her words were pompous, commanding them before any of them had stepped off. “My name is Alicia Wintz, but you will call me Warden.”

“Pleasure is all ours.” Matt said as he and Greta walked down to greet them.

“I’m sure it is.” Her eyes dug deep into their souls. Even Matt felt a chill down his spine, an unwilling coldness. “Hand over your documentation. Present all cargo and crew, weapons included.”

“Roger, all right here.” Matt handed her their forged papers, paper being figurative in this day and age for the most part. “We’re temporary transfers that hopped on the next ride in, just happened to be with the supplies. It’s harder than you think to get transport.”

“That’s a fact.” Her fat fingers manhandled the flimsy datasheets, digital letters flickering in and out.

“Right, the cargo looks like standard issue from what I can tell.” Matt glanced back at the others. They stood at the bottom with at least one foot still on the ramp, just in case. “We weren’t told anything else about it.”

“You never are.” Her eyes digested the information, before stopping and looking up at Matt. “Everything seems to be in order, enough anyway. What unit are you from?”

“Squad detachment of the 769th, Delta Company.” Matt almost convinced himself with how smooth he rattled that off. “We should be picked up in a week.”

“When you can correctly predict what next order the higher ups will pull out of their ass, then feel free to give me your opinion.” She dismissively waved him off. “Sergeant Wexler, give them the abrupt tour and attach them to the 2nd shift for now. I don’t want to hear them complain about being overworked while you're here.”

“Roger, Warden.” Wexler snapped a quick salute then turned on them. “You two follow me and let's get this done. The rest of your team just stay put and unload the cargo for inspection.”

“Lead the way, Sergeant.”

Matt and Greta were given at best a speedrun of the facility. The usual cells, recreational, and sustenance components were present. There also seemed to be a shared sense between the guards and the inmates, being to keep to yourself or see what happens. Being stuck in an asteroid belt probably put many prisoners in the island mindset. Why antagonize the warden and make it worse?

After getting their initial assignments, Matt and Greta headed back to the hangar and the rest of their team. Matt spoke softly.

“What’s your first opinion?”

“There’s a chance.” Greta kept an eye out to make sure they were not drawing attention. “Personally, they put too much faith in the remoteness of the location. I’d make some changes if I was in charge of this place. Operating procedures too routine, guards more relaxed than a guard should be, and a shit ton of cameras.”

“Similar thoughts, a soft underbelly it is then.” He cocked his head slightly. “On the note of you as warden, I can see it. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t get some joy considering the balance of power?”

“Thought we don’t get personal?” Greta barked back. “You make it sound like I’m more of a man than most men.”

“Possibly.” Matt had once accidentally stumbled upon a more private and personal moment of Greta, one not for retelling around the campfire. “Depending on preferences, some guys are into that sort of thing.”

The only thing stopping an elbow, or worse, inserting itself into his side was their current surroundings. It would certainly draw unwanted attention. But that didn’t stop Greta from speaking her mind.

“You’re a pig.”

“I know, I’ve got my own share of issues.”

Personal understatement of the year? Maybe, just maybe…

Their transport was already gone when they arrived, no surprise there. The supply shipment was stacked off to the side with lids loose after inspection. Matt saw the crate with the payload hidden away, an innocent box in plain sight. The rest of the team jumped to attention as they walked up.

Matt motioned them into a closer huddle. “All goods accounted for? No flags raised?”

“Nothing yet. We’ve been sitting on our ass waiting for you, so spill the beans.” All eyes were indeed upon them. “How’s the inner workings of this place?”

“Calm down, Hines.” Matt propped his weapon with buttstock against the ground. “Bottom line, it seems to be as we thought. The remoteness of the place provides a window of opportunity. We got a shift assignment and otherwise stuck in limbo as transfers, which is perfect.”

“Limbo works, limbo definitely works.” Freeman rested against one of the stacked crates. “Still sticking to our assigned roles or that change?”

“May have to be a little creative, but the short answer is yes.” Matt replied. “There’s gaps if you keep your eyes open. As long as we stick to our schedule, we’re golden...ish.”

“Ish?” Hines croaked out. “What happens when our schedule gets fucked up? You know it will, let’s be honest.”

“Adjust fire and continue mission.” Greta interjected. “I know you aren’t military, but every now and then it helps to act like it.”

That silenced the group for a hot minute, and a cue for Matt to get back on track.

“Freeman and Lydria, you guys are on guard duty with the crates. They know one of us needs to keep an eye on them temporarily, orders from higher up. That should get you on the cams.” Both of them nodded in acknowledgement. “Hines and Leon, chill near the cells or recreation rooms on shift. Make whatever notes you need to, mental or not. Lucky us, our shift starts in a few hours. It’s showtime.”

“Keep head down and don’t fuck up, too easy.” Freeman added in his own eloquence.

Yeah, something like that…

The squad broke up to their assigned tasks. Matt and Greta headed to cell block C to join their new shift complements, supposedly a lovely bunch. That meant heading down to the bottom third of the facility. The rest of the team assisted in moving the cargo out of the hangar. Thanks to Greth, they knew both the inmate number and cell. Getting in was the easier part of the job. Getting out, that would be a bit of a bitch.

Located in the Thrallium Asteroid Belt, it was hard to get in and hard to get out. Any seasoned pilot could tell you the dangers of asteroids. The remote location was a benefit. However, Matt planned to use it as a weakness. Of course, the prison’s weapon systems were another concern, both outside and inside.

By blazing nova, hopefully everything went according to plan. The Coalition should be focussed anywhere but here after Linova, let alone other unrest like the Minov riots. WIth nothing else to do but wait for the opportune moment, they fell into the role of transferred soldiers. Another job and another charade, and a paycheck waiting on the other side.

Yeah, what could possibly go wrong?

~~~

Blacklight Holding - Prison Break

Date of 241.09-21

“Probably a bad time to ask.” The bullets pinged off the corridor walls in an harmonious sound. “Is this a consistent theme with you or just my lucky day?”

“Contribute or shut it, Anderson.” Matt fired back. “Otherwise, I'll kick you into the hailstorm myself.”

“Say no more."

Well, he was not entirely wrong. Whether by the dumb luck or fate of the stars, Matt's plans usually never came to fruition how he originally envisioned. So of course, here they were caught in an aggravating firefight. Thankfully, the guards also had to deal with a full on prison riot at the same time.

Was it too much to ask for shit not to hit the fan?

What slowed them down now was a defense turret, similar to the model on Linova. It so happened to be placed at the chokepoint back to the hangar.

"That thing's got a bit of plating, rifles ain't gonna work." Matt bounced back inside the doorway. "Back up systems can kiss my ass."

"True, but there's always a solution if you have patience."

"Holmes, the same also applies to you as Anderson." Matt's fingers clamped his weapon tightly as bullets whistled by. The heavy caliber ones from the turret were the loudest. "But I'm also open to suggestions, valid ones."

"Well I'm no expert military tactician, but I would think blinding it would help for starters. But after, need a big enough bang which I thought I saw…" Holmes turned and leaned into his room, looking for something. "...ah! I think this might do."

He held up a loaded grenade belt. One pull and up to eight grenades went off, great for confined spaces.

"You got a good enough aim?"

"Possibly." Holmes poked his head out, eyeing a distance down the hall before pulling back. “Gonna need a damn accurate throw, try to hit its base joints.”

“I got a smoke if you got the range figured out.” Matt pulled a C2 Smoke Grenade off of his belt, tossing it in hand a few times. "Won't fool it, but will give you a second or two before it switches to thermals. Better make your throw count."

"That’s where we're at?" Holmes adjusted the bill of his cap, a memento the guards let him keep. "Thankfully, I had a decent arm in my school days. Ready on your throw."

"Here we go."

Matt tossed the smoke towards the turret. It instantly picked up his partially exposed side, forcing him back. The smoke bounced and rolled before popping. Thick white smoke billowed out.

Holmes stuck to one knee up for balance, set his arm back, and then let go of the grenade belt. Into the smoke cloud it went and disappeared. Five seconds later, the corridor was rocked with an explosion. The white cloud was replaced with black and grey.

"Well shit." The gunfire had halted. "Freeman, Lyd, take point! Holmes, Anderson, you're behind them."

They rushed forward, leaving Matt and Greta as rearguard.

"He's got a good aim." Greta poked around Matt, the smoldering of the turret becoming barely visible. "Maybe we should sign him on. I mean, could always use another decent arm."

"Seriously?"

"We need more luck and you don't bring much to the table." She patted his shoulder. "Track record would agree."

She’s not wrong, thanks a fucking lot Lady Fortuna…

Matt bit his tongue. Instead, he thought about the two they just set free. Holmes and Anderson, one was their target and the other an unwanted but helpful tag along.

Anderson, former Coalition Officer, got crossed up with some powers that be. He was falsely accused and put away due to petty strife. Holmes, a humble civil servant, got greedy and was caught hacking a corporate high security system. The government thought a regular prison would be too cozy, thus out to the abyss with him.

Matt and Greta had caught up to the others at the remains of the turret. Indeed, Holmes had a good arm.

“I think it's time to call in our evac, Matt.” Anderson said with a smile. “I'm ready to get off this rock, same as you.”

“Yeah, you have no idea.”