Time For Work (Short Story)

Here's a short story that I had in mind for a few weeks, and today I finally got a chance to sit down and get it written.

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       "Time to go to work." That's all the message said, and it was enough for Falk'mani to tell his boss what he thought of him, and leave his job for good in an explosion of hate equivalent to the pressure he had been put through for the last few years.

       Entering the old warehouse; their usual rally spot. Felt different, but strangely familiar. It was dark, apart from some dim overhead lighting that allowed the shadows to crawl up each wall like insects. The place smelled of dampness and rot - as most disused places would - and it was great. The smell of freedom. Financial independence. Falk'mani wasn't a drone, he couldn't switch off his mind and sit silently at a desk for most of his week, no. There were far better things that he could be doing with his time, and those things always filled his pockets.

       "Falky, you're faster than expected." The voice of an old friend rang out, echoing across the thin sheets of steel that held up the roof of the old place. Orden Hiss; his associate and partner in crime. A Human, with a worn face, dark hair, hollow eyes and a radiant smile.
       "I've been waiting for word of a new job for a long time, Orden," Falk'mani replied, an uncontrollable grin growing on his face.
       "After the last one, I went dead cell; blended in, and made some contacts in the shadow network."

       The shadow network; a nicer name for a collection of scumbags and criminals. Falk'mani's kind of people.
       "Sounds glamorous. While you've been doing that, I lost myself and woke up working for High Steel Industries." Orden's face dropped as if he'd just heard an old friend died.
       "Sorry to hear that," Orden replied as he carried a small crate to a large object, draped in cloth. "What happened to your cut from the last job?" He asked, and Falk'mani followed him.
       "Bought an apartment, little two-bedroom thing in the outskirts of Talirda. Bought some upgrades for my speeder, and the rest whittled away. Before High Steel I went travelling, laid low off-world. That bit a big chunk out of what I had left."
       Orden laid the crate down, and ripped back the cloth, revealing their old ship. A small four-seat open top transporter, with a turret gun in the passenger seat. The decals were old and worn now, some panels were missing showing exposed wiring.
       "She's a sight for sour eyes," Falk'mani said in awe.
       "I just need to do bit a of tuning, and then we'll leave," Orden said, as he squatted down, then he looked back behind Falk'mani. "Pass that wrench."

       The night sky was dark purple, and the lights from the city below were flickering to life. Talirda was a different place after dark; beautiful, but dangerous.

       "This one should be an easy job, and I've recruited a bit of help," Orden said while flying the transporter. "Do me a favour, check that the swivel seat works."
       Falk'mani grabbed the handle of the turret with one hand while reaching for a lever under his chair. He wrenched it up and felt the seat loosen until it finally jittered out the side of the transport. He aimed, and the directional fire seemed to work. Pulling a lever on the other side locked it into place, and shimmying his body it slunk back into place.
       "Yeah, it works, bit clunky but it'll do," Falk'mani responded, loosening his grip on the turret. "Expecting much resistance?"
       "Oh, there'll be resistance alright. The target is a T-TEC convey."
       "T-TEC! Are you crazy?" Falk'mani felt his blood run cold.
       "They're transporting weapons from some factory they have outside of Talirda. If the inventory sheet is correct, we're talking rifles, machine guns, handguns, armour. Big money."
       "Big risk."
       "That's why I hired some High Flyer to help us out. The share is, they get half the hardware, and we take the rest of it." Orden replied. "Job came through from some Jexi called Ember, she has some operation going and needs the weapons for her gunners, but what's more, some experimental suits are being transported. Spectre suits; camo."
       "Spectre suits?" Falk'mani was shocked.
       "I'm not much of a revolutionary, but what I know is, if T-TEC gets access to that kind of hardware, they'll own this city. That's why Ember wants the stuff, and that's why the High Flyers are quick to help steal it."
       "Well, they'd do anything to scrap some T-TEC, or TPD, I'm sure it didn't take much to convince them." Falk'mani knew enough about the High Flyers, and while he didn't like the idea of working with them, he knew that he didn't want to go it alone. "Can they be trusted, though? A bunch of junkies."
       "They can be trusted to shoot, and act as cannon fodder," Orden replied with a shrug.

       After a while of travelling, the city was long behind them. The land below was dark, with only small pockets of light shining.
       Orden started to descend, and soon it became obvious why. Light from speeders became apparent, and as they got lower, figures could be seen circled around their crafts.
       "Here we are."

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       Orden was the first out, and Falk'mani followed behind. The noise of laughter, talking, and some low music could be heard. The High Flyers seemed more interested in partying, rather than preparing for a job. Falk'mani didn't feel confident having them at their backs.
       "Orden Hiss, you're late." One of the High Flyers said, stepping forward. The others in the vicinity quietened down when he spoke. He was a Human, with missing teeth, greasy long hair, and wearing battle armour; Confederation by the look of it. There were random scribbles and pictures drawn over it.
       "Razorwire, you're early." Orden replied, which caused a light chuckle from the High Flyer, followed by a few others. "I was expecting a larger force."
       "Trust me, we're enough to take down this convey."
       "These are heavily armed and armoured ships we're dealing with, not ragtag street gangs," Orden replied as he looked around at the sorry bunch of misfits.
       Razorwire clicked his fingers, and that caused a few of his men to run to their ships. They didn't take off, but soon the entire place was illuminated in gunfire. One of the turrets was a cannon and shot rounds into the distance to then explode into balls of fire. "Trust me, we're enough." The small group erupted into fits of laughter.
       "Let's just hope nobody seen or heard that little display."

       Falk'mani propped himself up against their transport, and just watched the group drink and drug it up. "When's this convey coming? Any longer and they won't be capable of flying." He asked Orden, who sat in the transport scanning the skies with a pair of binoculars.
       "They're coming." He said as he threw them down. "They're coming! Get ready! He stood up and shouted at the High Flyers, who quickly started to mount up.
       Falk'mani stared at the horizon, and soon small dots of light became visible. They were slow but were gaining ground fast.
       "You're leading the charge, Orden." Razorwires voice came through the intercom of the ship.
       Orden looked over at Flak'mani, who held a tight grip of the turret handle, and then replied with a nod.

       The ship took to the air, as the convey drew closer to them. Pulling the lever, the swivel seat went out the side, and he turned to watch the High Flyers take to the sky; a fleet of light. The sounds of engines and taunting were loud behind them. The High Flyers were overconfident and excited.
       "Weapons ready." Flak'mani said.
       Before they could fire first, the convey opened up on them. Bullets and lazar fire whizzed past, and before the first shot was returned, one of the High Flyers ships went down in a fiery blaze.
       Falk'mani opened fire. There were three heavily armoured vehicles, surrounded by four smaller ones on either side. The heavies continued, while the smaller one broke formation to fly directly at them. Firing, the turret chunked, and jittered. The rattle shook through his arms and into his chest. Moving to track his target, he continued. The shots were closing in. Finally, they reached the ship. Battered, it tried to pull away, but it was no use. The onslaught was merciless and left it a falling wreck. During its descent, Falk'mani continued to fire until finally, it exploded mid-air.
       "Great shot!" Razorwire's voice boomed. "Gantis, Farg, you two stay with the heavies! We'll keep these busy." He continued.
       A few ships pulled away, and continued to chase the heavies.
       What felt like mere moments passed, and already the number of T-TEC ships was cut down to half. Falk'mani had to admit, the High Flyers knew what they were doing.

       Falk'mani could feel thuds against their ship, and turned to see one of the T-TEC ships behind them. "Orden, we've got a tail!" The thuds continued, as the ship carried on firing on them.
       "Get them off us!" Orden shouted, as he tried to left and right to avoid fire.
       Falk'mani tried, but couldn't get a clear shot. Shooting blindly, the ship moved to the opposite side of his turret, and there was no way to get a shot now.
       It continued to fire, and a small explosion jutted their ship and left a trail of smoke.
       "Got your back!" Razorwire shouted through the intercom, and the High Flyer ship streamed over them directing full fire to the T-TEC transport, which went down in a ball of fire; fire so hot that Falk'mani thought it would strip his scales off his back.
       "Looks like you're spitting coolant, I don't know how much more airtime you got in you." Razorwire continued. "Ground yourselves, we got the last of these and two of mine have broken the heavies, we've got this." He continued.
       Falk'mani could tell Orden wasn't happy, but he heeded their warning.

       "Maybe we're too old for this business." Falk'mani said, with a light chuckle.

       They rendevoud after the battle, and gathered around the grounded heavies. Maticulously, they killed the drivers, putting down the last of any resistance.
       They worked through their loot, laying it all out in the centre to give it the once over.
       "Half the weapons for us, and the rest for you two. Seems unfair now." Razorwire said, as he looked at the others in his party.
       "A deals a deal." Orden replied coldly, which caused Razorwire to raise his hands in defeat.
       "A deal is a deal, and we fulfill all of our deals." Razorwire looked back at their take. "It was good working with you, and this is a lot better in our hands than there's. Maybe there's still room for outlaws on Talirda, even if only for a while."

       Falk'mani spotted transport ships on the horizon. "Are they with you?" He asked the High Flyer boss, who instantly ready his weapon.
       "Calm down, they're with me." Orden said with a smile.
       "Could have warned us, we were ready to blast them." Razorwire said, as he looked to some of his men. "Okay, lets get this stuff loaded up."

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       The transport ships came over head, in a low hover.
       "They not landing?" Razorwire asked, looking at them while holding a crate.
       As he finished, the ship opened fire. Instantly destroying all of the High Flyer speeders, and killing most of their forces. As that was happening, Orden leveled his gun on the leader.
       "Sorry, I think the split was a bit unfair." He fired multiple shots, which dropped the leader, and soon, Falk'mani, Orden, and the ships over head were all that was left.
       "What was that! You could have let me in on that!" Falk'mani shouted.

       One of the ships landed, and a heavily armed and armoured person appeared, followed by a small contingent of troops.
       "Ember will be pleased with the work you did here today." The man removed a small device from his pocket. "The funds are on their way to you, good job."
       "Pleasure doing business with you," Orden said, as he turned to get into the transport ship followed by Falk'mani.