No Contruum episode would be complete without at least a cameo from the Butcher. Unbeknowns to [member="Anaya Fen"] her business associate, her partner in furthering the cause of Chaos - for Chaos Was Everything - had found time to come to the planet of killing fields as well. The site of the tragedy she had orchestrated. It had been a work of art. To most Contruum was a grim world, the place where ideals went to die, a place best forgotten. Or something to be pitied, somewhere to point to when it came to exposing the Republic's 'dark side', the folly of 'benevolent imperialism'.
To her Contruum was something different. A vision. Of a future that would hopefully soon come to pass. Of a Galaxy bathed in flames, soul upon soul crying out in pain in a world stripped of phony ideals and rationalisations. Civilisation torn down, leaving naught but the merciless, teeth-clenched struggle for survival. And then...the new order. A final one. For there was no difference, there could be no dissent.
The site was a long abandoned landing strip on the edge of the factory district. Not far from where she stood a rather large crater had been blasted into the ground by artillery shells. It had been there since the original Rebellion, one of many places rebel squads had been deployed to as a diversion. If one took time to look past the mud that filled the crater one could make out the skeletal remains of rebels and soldiers, long stripped of their flesh by the vultures that could count on reaping a big harvest on the planet. Mud and dried blood had intermixed so that they could not be distinguished, something further complicated by the fact that it was pouring down in droves once again. In the distance the corpse turned skeleton of a mercenary hung from a lamppost, wearing a placard that would have proclaimed him to be an enemy of the people, if the writing had still been decipherable.
The roar of thunder was heard in the distance. An omen? The shout of a wrathful god? Moira no longer believed in the gods.
And if they existed she was sure that Illyria, dread mistress of hell who sat upon a colossal throne made out of the bones of the wicked, would approve of her. Watch with evident glee upon her beautiful yet terrible features even as the bodies were wracked up, for Moira had sent her share of souls down into the abyss for her to consume. Both as human and as the replicant that had taken the place of the woman she had been.
"You have come, Butcher. We have the prisoners you wanted. You have the weapons?" the woman leading this band of rebels said, dirty brown hair tied back into a ponytail, wearing a bandana, dressed in camo fatigues, a disruptor pistol holstered on her hip. The air around the unit of rebels was thick with nervous tension, suspicion and barely contained violence.
Each of them heavily armed and ready to mete out death, yearning for it, for it was the only thing they had known. A number of them were barely more than children, teenagers. On a core world their most pressing concerns would have been passing exams, getting laid or persuading their parents to hand out the creds for the latest video game. The games these kids played had no happy ending, the villains they fought shot to kill and they pumped themselves up with spice to handle the pain. Moira should know. The human she was had been just like them. Once the human Moira Skaldi had been innocent. Idealistic, fighting for freedom. She had outgrown that a long time ago.
"You know the answer. Cache of ex Imperial hardware. Use it well. There have been rumblings of a crackdown. Foreign experts. Forcers," she spoke calmly...dispassionately. Three HRDs were with her, all still as statues, the same air of dispassionate violence emanating from them, armed with bolters. They brought forth crates and opened them for the rebels' inspection. Blasters, heavy duty explosives, disruptors, scatter guns, even a bolter here and there courtesy of the old Pyre days.
The rebel leader inspected each of them carefully, though she would know it was the genuine article. Not just because Moira had no incentive to betray them, but because she was like her. Oxanna, such was her name, had been one of the young rebels under Moira during the original rebellion. Parents murdered by the security forces when they fired into a crowd of protesting workers. Moira had sort of taken her under her wing. She had proved...very dedicated, always willing to go the extra mile. Creative with a razor blade during interrogations. She was also no longer human. Processing was a gift bestowed upon the worthy.
Many are called but few are chosen.
"We've heard. Plans have been made to go underground. Info's been leaked to...redirect the pigs' attention to some of the...other groups," the rebel said carefully. The Rebellion on Contruum had been squashed many times, but always risen again. One of the reasons was that it was not united, but decentralised. At times rebel groups cooperated, but usually they utilised a cell-based structure. Sometimes down to three. Information was shared, but only so much that the annihilation of one cell could not compromise the whole network. Unfortunately, feuds between rebels were common, something the government tried to exploit.
It also made Moira's work easier. "Good. Conserve your resources. Now...your end?" The sound of blaster fire and explosions was dimly heard in the distance, then cries of pain, until all was silent again. Probably another raid. Moira paid it no mind. Life was cheap on Contruum. About as costly as a slug round. Sometimes cheaper.
"Contruum remembers your face. You shouldn't stay here long. Not all are as pragmatic as we are, Butcher," the woman said coldly, the implied threat an affectation. She was not programmed to oppose her Progenitor Unit. She made an gesture to her comrades and hissed out some orders, then the procession began. A long line of cuffed and drugged prisoners was marched out of the shadows towards the shuttle and the HRDs, guarded by rebels. Some of the prisoners were from rival rebel groups, others were secret police goons and mercenaries. As indicated by the bruises they had suffered and how wretched their clothes were, the rebels had not been gentle in their treatment. Not that Moira cared one bit. If some of them looked like they might keel over, that was insignificant.
The Processing Machine was hungry. She only needed them alive long enough to feed them to it. During the Rebel Alliance's brief existence Contruum had been one of its primary recruiting grounds. Now the movement was defunct due to want of targets, but Moira had kept up the tradition. Her idea of recruitment was just rather unconventional! Some of the merchandise would be returned, most would be used by Archangel across space. Assassins, infiltrators, all working towards furthering the cause.
Likewise a case containing credits from a bank robbery was handed over to her by a scarred, grizzled rebel who had lost half his right ear due to shrapnel. Cold, blue eyes of the Metal Princess scanned the merchandise - for that was what they were - dispassionately, examining each of them in turn before turning her focus back to Oxanna. "Adequate. Any complications?"
"A traitor. Pigs threatened his family and all that. We let him continue to leak false information for a while, throw them off balance. Enabled us to raid a bank and take some hostages. Outlived his usefulness then. Added him to your list," the woman replied coldly, dispassionately. Contruum sort of burnt the passion out of you. Either that or it inflamed it, conjured up a firestorm of all-consuming rage.
"We will be in contact. Some of these units might be returned. Arrangements must be made for them to 'escape' captivity and infiltrate. This planet is of interest to the cause."
"Consensus. The organics do not suspect. 'Feats of bravery' have won me more trust. Arrangements have been made for us to enhance control in the rebel movement. Our 'friends' taken the brunt of the purge serves us. Some of my...people are interested in the...upgrade. Willing...deluded volunteers."
"Willing to make any sacrifice for the cause. All great movements require a few...martyrs. The Age of Steel shall come in due time." These lines were transmitted through purely electronic communication as a link between the two droids was created, impossible for anyone to overhear. To anyone not initiated it would look as if the two women were just staring at each other without saying anything, but then the attention of the rebels was on securing the perimeter.
"Bring the merchandise to the ship," Moira ordered, more for the organics' benefit than those of the machines she had brought, for they would know what to do. Soon they were gone.
