The Eumolpian Mercenary Graven Hill

Chapter 50: Umojan Mercenary Graven Hill

Fort Wait was a Terran Confederacy city located about fifty miles from Fort Howe, accessible via a highway that had not seen maintenance in years, leading straight to the city center which had since been razed to the ground.

The armored personnel carrier carrying Augustus's Third Platoon had departed from Fort Howe, and the convoy had been traveling through the cold, dark night of Turaxis II for nearly an hour. Because several sections of the highway had been blown apart, their journey had been anything but smooth.

The region where the city was located was nearing the subarctic zone. At this time of year in the northern hemisphere, the temperature had plummeted to below minus ten degrees Celsius. A frigid wind blew from the only ocean on Turaxis, which was gradually freezing over, causing the thick waterproof canvas at the rear of the transport to flap violently.

"I want to know why we have to run all the way out here at this hour to scout for Kel-Morians who aren't even around," Harnack complained inside the transport assigned to Augustus's squad. "Besides, there are plenty of dropships on the landing pad at the fort; why do we have to ride in a truck?"

"Maybe they're afraid we'll get shot down by the locals' little pistols, which only have an effective range of a few dozen yards?" Raynor said. "Vandersp has always been considerate. He's a gentleman and a good man."

"I say, finishing the job early and going back to sleep is what matters," Tychus said, his Power Armor larger than the standard model. "How about we find some fun at a local bar?"

"Yeah!" Harnack cheered.

"Enough, enough." Augustus glared at Harnack. "Do you even know what kind of place that is? And if there really are Kel-Morians, I'm not going to sacrifice lives to save you while you're drunk."

The glowing eyes of Harnack, Josephine, and Tychus dimmed at an astonishing speed.

As they spoke, the convoy lurched over the potholed, crater-ridden highway of Fort Wait, driving into the city proper before finally coming to a halt at an intersection with a traffic light.

Augustus closed his helmet visor and was the first to flip open the canvas of the armored carrier. He jumped out, clutching a Gauss Rifle decorated with a gray wolf-head emblem on the grip, followed one by one by the other marines.

Snowflakes melted on Augustus's visor, only to immediately freeze into ice. He looked toward the few areas that still had lights, and what met his eyes were rolling black shadows, resembling a cluster of hills huddled together.

But Augustus soon realized the truth was far from that; this was a city in ruins. High-rises had collapsed, and the ground was littered with rubble and the wreckage of vehicles. The snow had swallowed everything, silencing the once-vibrant hustle and bustle, leaving behind only a white wasteland.

Fort Wait had once been a city of two hundred thousand. During the years of the Guild Wars, it had narrowly escaped being consumed by the flames of war many times. But a few months ago, Fort Wait suffered the same fate as the Pride of Boke; the Kel-Morian Haigolong Legion had invaded, plundering and destroying the city.

"So, where are we supposed to go to catch these little Kel-Morian bastards?" Tychus grunted. "We don't have a plan, and the intel is pathetic."

"Don't you guys think something's wrong? What kind of enemy requires us to come out and scout in the middle of the night? The Kel-Morians aren't blind; don't they know to run when they hear the sound of engines? That Lieutenant Colonel is truly a naive guy; I really wonder how he got to that position."

"Captain Warfield's point is that we at least had to make the trip," Augustus said. "After all, there are still thousands of people living in these ruins—refugees who refuse to leave their homes. We should at least ensure their safety."

"Oh? That doesn't sound like our Marine Corps style," Tychus chuckled. "Do you know how the marines on Reding III protect their people?"

"They kill them all and then say it was the Kel-Morians. That way, the field reporters from the UNN can write a vivid, illustrated article attacking the viciousness of the Kel-Morians, inciting hatred for the enemy among the core world residents. Then, the federal government can issue war bonds on a massive scale," he said.

"As for who ends up paying back those bonds, that would, of course, be the defeated Kel-Morians."

"Tychus, I hope you can understand this. While we are no angels, we shouldn't be demons either." As Augustus spoke, he led his squad toward the few sources of light in Fort Wait. Reagan, the platoon leader of the Third Platoon, ordered his squad to investigate one of them.

Augustus followed a path that had clearly been cleared, passing a church that had only three walls remaining. The shattered stained-glass windows refracted colorful light under the beam of his armor's spotlight. A massive cross had fallen from the top of the church, skewered diagonally into the snow as if standing over a giant grave.

According to orders from the Turaxis II Governor's Office and the Northern Hemisphere First Mainland Command, all cities and towns in this sector were to strictly enforce blackout and curfew regulations, but the residents of Fort Wait clearly did not care for such rules.

Fort Wait had been reduced to ruins, yet most residential buildings could still be powered by solar panels; electricity was not the scarcest resource in this era. However, these ruins were a chaotic land of death. As an area that neither the Terran Confederacy nor the Kel-Morian Combine wanted to govern, it hid all sorts of people.

Homeless locals, wanted outlaws, and interstellar pirates and mercenaries who stopped here to rest and trade with the locals for supplies and fuel. Furthermore, in the dead of winter, hungry local beasts would attack humans in the dark; you had to be wary of beasts or even your neighbors climbing your courtyard wall for a scrap of food.

Only a few buildings kept their lights on all night, usually the dens of the local gangs or bars open to interstellar pirates and mercenaries.

Augustus's destination was a small bar. There were a few sentries outside, but no one dared to fire at the federal marines in Power Armor, nor did they even offer a proper challenge. To the long-suffering locals, the federal and Kel-Morian armies were one and the same.

After observing for a while, Augustus led several soldiers into the bar, leaving the others to set up a perimeter.

The bar was unexpectedly clean and tidy. The scent of incense mixed with the cold, dry air from outside. The floor was made of patched wood, with a dozen tables and matching chairs. Only four or five people sat inside; presumably, the others had fled the moment they heard federal marines were coming.

Augustus walked straight to the bartender behind the counter, his power boots creaking on the wooden floor.

"I want to buy some intelligence regarding the Kel-Morians." Augustus tossed a thick stack of bills onto the counter.

"Sergeant Mengsk is so rich?" Tychus asked in surprise over the comms, accurately estimating a hefty sum based on the thickness of the cash.

"Of course," Raynor said, not without pride. "Augustus might be the richest man on this planet."

"What's it to you? Why are you so smug?" Tychus said this, but in his heart, he was thinking about getting to the bottom of Augustus's background. If Augustus really was a big shot, Tychus wouldn't mind cozying up to him.

"Ah! Officer, I don't know anything!" The bartender was a middle-aged man missing an arm. He had indeed been startled by the thickness of the cash at first, but after a moment of thought, he decided his life was more important.

"You're afraid of retaliation, aren't you?" Augustus asked.

"Forget it, forget it. This guy definitely knows less than I do." At this moment, a man in strange attire sidled up to Augustus, leaned over the table to scoop up all the cash, and then excitedly counted it with a companion.

Augustus turned to look at him. The man was dressed like the locals, wearing a thick wool military overcoat, deep brown heavy-duty military boots, and a fur-lined ushanka with three earflaps. The hem of the dark coffee-colored coat was long, extending down to his ankles.

If all that was normal, the fact that he was wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night was very strange. Judging by the man's face and his voice, which sounded quite young, he couldn't be more than twenty years old.

"Seeing you really brings tears to my eyes. You might not know this, but Remy and I are starting a business." After counting the money, the man looked at Augustus and, ignoring the height difference with the marine, enthusiastically shook his hand. "Oh, I'm Graven Hill, from Umojan. I'm a mercenary. Here's my business card; my email address is on it."

"I see. Then why are you so sure your intel is worth this price?" Augustus took the card and tucked it away, smiling behind the visor where Hill couldn't see.

Graven Hill—the very same mercenary leader from the Hyperion in the game, the guy who specialized in selling mercenary contracts to Raynor.

"It's absolutely worth the price, Officer. A Kel-Morian Haigolong assault squad is preparing to raid Fort Howe, and it's happening tonight." Hill said.

"How do you know this?" Augustus's expression changed.

"I'm a mercenary, after all. I used to take jobs mostly from the Kel-Morian side, and there are still some mercenaries I've hired to do dirty work for them mixed in their ranks. I'm not short on intel," Hill said. "Of course, I've signed mercenary contracts for both the Confederacy and the Kel-Morians, and quite a few, at that."

"The Kel-Morians are under a lot of military pressure right now. Sigh. It's actually hard for us, too. Demand exceeds supply, so commissions have to go up, but they can't pay—they're all in debt." Perhaps due to his youth, Hill was much more talkative at this moment. "Mercenaries have to eat, too. We have parents and children to support. How many families are struggling to put food on the table?"

"So, you really can't blame me. I don't truly want to betray them."

"Jim, quick, we need to find Reagan. Only he has the equipment to contact Warfield directly." Augustus turned and walked away.

"Uh, you just believe me like that?" Hill was stunned.

"Regardless, we have to go confirm it." Augustus tossed out a few words before leading a bewildered Raynor and the others out of the bar. "We'll be in touch. If this news is true, I'll pay you double what I just gave you."

"I will contact you."

"That's a potential client with deep pockets," said Remy, companion to Hill. "We should keep in touch with him."

Seeking votes.

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