* * *


"Are you kidding me? I've hardly been here six months!" Griph was taken aback at what he was being told.

"It's no joke Weathers, believe that. And you better watch that tone with me because I'm in command, don't care if your daddy's the Emperor or not." Sunder Cain was a man who always looked like he was fully prepared to reach out and hit someone, so Griph crossed his arms across his chest and tried to rationalize the situation before doing anything reckless.

The third man in the small interrogation room was a fellow of average Terran height and weight, well-muscled and wearing an informal brown jacket. His dark eyes seemed to assess Griph cautiously. Cain pointed to him with his thumb. "This, is Predator. He's a merc. You're going to be attached to him soon. He runs with a mercenary group known as the Assassin's Organization. Into some pretty clandestine stuff, but I'm sure he'll fill you in." The Knight-Captain glanced at Predator, who shrugged, before continuing. "Point is, they're under Imperial contract now. Secret contract, mind you, but that's just it. It's a shadowy group. So keep a low profile."

"I know these people." protested Griph. "I've fought on Titan, I know the icegrubs, I can probably be of more use here with the Knights –" he was cut off by an impatient wave of Cain's hand.

"Spare me Weathers. I know your great little history, that's part of the reason you were selected for this mission. TAO's real good at scouting, feeling stuff out, and when it comes right down to it, drawing first blood when they come into contact with the enemy. Now, mercenaries or not they're pretty skilled and you're going with them. You've got… two weeks. Then I'd better not see you around." Griph clenched his fists; unhappy at being suddenly transferred without warning from a crack Knight unit to a mercenary rabble, but there was nothing he could do. On his way out Cain looked back over his shoulder to toss back the comment, "Hey you should be grateful, you're getting the hell out of my command." Then he left.

Predator extended his hand, and reluctantly Griph took it. "A pleasure." The man said, and Griph gave a curt nod. "What Cain told you was the gist of it – the Assassin's Organization is more or less a guild with a license to kill on behalf of its employer. That employer for the next thirty months is going to be the Empire. And in all honesty we are pretty good at what we do." He gave a small smile, and Griph nodded again, more slowly this time.

"Why is the contract secret?" asked Griph, somewhat puzzled.

"Fair question. The Empire requested that, not us – we like transparency in our dealings, and we have a very strong sense of honor guiding us, not unlike the Knights. We'd much rather chase toasters out into the great frontier than sit guarding some corporate shining tower somewhere. Thing is, the Empire needs every ounce of manpower it can muster. Skilled fighters are in even greater demand. For every elite soldier Earth and the Colonies send off with the Pursuit Armada, they're going to need suppliers, corporate or mercenaries to help them out. Grey interests, if you will." The man stopped for a moment, looked Griph in the eye. "There's another reason we want your help, in particular. It's not just your scouting or command ability boy – it's your heritage."

Griph was somewhat surprised now, and intrigued. "My heritage?"

"Naturally. You're Caanon's son, but more than that, you're Bek's nephew." Griph was cautious now, and narrowed his eyes. His uncle had been involved with many people, not all of them good.

"I'm not sure how that's important here." He said.

"It's damned important." said Predator forcefully. "Your uncle and I… we made a blood pack, on Titan. We swore we would help defend humanity to try and correct the mistake we made in making the Rebellion such a success. You see I used to run guns for him, and we offered our services at a discount to the Martian and Earth-based rebellions." Griph began to realize Predator had to be much older than he looked. He paid the man his full attention, anxious to learn about the untold chapters of his uncle's life. "We also swore that we'd always be with each other, in one form or another." He paused for a moment, looking somewhat regretful. "We must have been a little drunk too. We swore that we'd take care of one another's family in case one didn't make it through it all alive – although, back then we thought we were all going to die. Swore a lot of other things too, not so nice, about killing 'brids and bustin' skulls." Predator looked reflective, and he sighed wistfully. "It's almost like that last line in that Venusian poem: 'Make acid oaths and never sleep.' A lot of that oath's been haunting me ever since. When I heard you were out here I realized I needed to recruit you; you were Bek's favorite nephew. He said quite a lot about you."

"You still haven't even told me your real name." said Griph suddenly. "How about you start with that?" Predator looked at Griph, looked at the room around them, and then winked.

"Sure thing. But not here kiddo."


April 2845


Griph's dropship was in unrestrained freefall towards the planet's surface – and he was waiting for that noticeable secondary shudder which was the signal that the powerful thrusters on the wings of the craft had kicked in and slowed the mad plunge to a significantly more reasonable speed. He'd only done a limited number of hot insertions before, was nervous when thirty seconds had elapsed without that comforting feeling of losing momentum.

"TAO 1-1, Griph here." He spoke into the local system, to the pilot and co-pilot of the dropship. "Something wrong?"

"That's a negative. Gravity here's significantly lighter than some other places you might have been, so we've still got twelve more seconds… eleven… ten… before those thrusters kick in. Just relax and enjoy the ride okay?"

The reply made Griph feel sheepish. Some combat leader I am, he thought. Still afraid of these goddamn drops. As the pilot had suggested, the thrusters did kick in on time and the descent grew more comfortable.

Comm chatter was beginning to pick up now, the various dropships and pilots talking to one another. Predator's voice could be heard over the open frequency. "This is going to be a very hot zone folks, so hit the ground firing, stay sharp, and keep your weapons hot. Got that? Focus on the task at hand."

The task at hand. The last several thousand feet was another bumpy ride, but Griph hardly noticed. His eyes were closed, in silent meditation, another gift of the Tarazedi from what seemed like a different era. The steady hum of the dropship engines became louder now, and Griph felt the ever slight pitch of the cargo bay and the hard impact of the touchdown. Eyes snapped open, revealing the cargo bay ramp opening up onto soil untouched by human presence, beneath alien sun.

Well, maybe not such a different era. The blood red herc pitched forward, down and out of the dropship's bay one foot ahead of the other, the first to touch the surface of that mysterious world, weapons firing before its pilot even consciously knew it…

---