Chapter 4 – Jarek.
--/Day 3 15:12 Hours/--
There had been some difficulties with the lift shaft, what with the recent lockdown it had become apparent that part of Sorrell's procedures were to restrict movement in the station until the panic had died down. This meant that he'd been stuck in that elevator for the last two hours waiting somewhere between 3-040 and 3-039. That had been incredibly boring.
Second Lieutenant Grissom watched the elevator doors slide open with an irritating whistle. He was on 3-006. Embassy level. Outside of the lift there were three figures. All were wearing the same model of battlesuit as he did, between the three of them they dominated the promenade, battle rifles held ready. Two were Legionaries. One was a Centurion, callsign ‘Titan'.
"Centurion Jursk." Grissom stated respectfully, offering a full salute.
"You fucking halfwit." Jursk snarled. An armoured gauntlet swept up and pointed across the wide promenade, indicating a set of large doors, above which the crest of Nethrek was suspended. Grissom nodded, then strode towards the doors. The promenade was golden and bright, light everywhere. Grissom approached the doors and they swept open, beckoning him inwards with a sinister hiss, the same hiss as a serpent.
--/+0 minutes 0 seconds/--
--/Corridor E-618 Elevator Access/--
"I feel very relieved, and somewhat safer." Davan commented as the four of them stood waiting for the elevator. They'd been given a tip that levels 4-025 and 5-025 might have the sort of space Davan was after, somewhere to set up shop. He figured he was gonna be here for a while. Might as well take advantage of it. So here they stood, down the hall from the security office of Lieutenant Giaus and grateful for it. That was an angry man. Suddenly, there was a buzzing noise.
"Oh, that's me." Farn said, reaching for a pager at his side. He pulled it free. "Hmmm. Well, sorry kids', it's been fun, but I gotta dash." With that, he turned to his right and started walking away, not looking back, gaze still fixed on the pager, as if perplexed.
"Bye then..." Davan said, looking after the D'Joran as he ambled away. He turned to Tenzanin. "Weird one, that." Tenzanin shrugged, his thoughts already back to eating again. Davan returned to gazing at the elevator doors. A moment later, they pinged open.
--/+8 minutes 52 seconds/--
--/Nethrek Embassy Armour Bay/--
In truth, the Battlesuit was the strength of the Legionary. There was the training, the merciless drilling, the swearing upon the Vows, the deployment to combat as soon as possible and the unswerving aggression native to all Nethrek, but the real strength of the Legions was the super-powered Battlesuits they issued to their elite troops. It was resistant to all weapons that weren't vehicle mounted, it allowed the wearer to leap great distances to its amazing leg hydraulics, it could survive in space for up to 12 hours, it was the true strength of the Legions. Grissom had tested all these advantages and more. He'd been wearing one for most of his adult life.
Which is why it was most disconcerting to be stood in the Embassy Armour bay, having it removed from him piece by piece by a team of specialists.