Failed State 3D Render, Digital Artwork by emarukk

! REPORT

Failed State

3D Render by emarukk

The sky was a dark, apocalyptic orange, choked with ash and smoke from the city's wreckage, as our gravboots crunched through the charred ruins of what had once been a bustling metropolis. I silently wished evacuation had been successful before mayhem broke loose. The air was thick with the acrid tang of burning metal and chemicals, a constant reminder of the destruction that had taken place. This dustball of a planet was a far cry from the climate-controlled habitats I was used to. Ship-to-station missions spoil man very quickly. Sweat dripped into my eyes, blurring my vision. I was planeteer, but I started to hate planets like any drifter going around the void. I blinked rapidly, adjusting the targeting computer of my right eye. Sweat burned it like it did natural eye, and the sweat dripping into my mouth was salty and unpleasant, mixing with the dust and ash already coating my tongue.

Casia had been on Avernus for weeks, following one rich lead we had. But now she had fucked up badly. Her intel was garbage, and now we were stranded in the middle of a warzone trying to extract some spoiled princeling. Confederation void divers were crawling all over the place, turning the city into Ring cheese with their rail drivers. We had no idea why they were still there or for whom they were fighting because they were not in a chatting mood. The only hint of their origin was a toasted Confederation gunship in orbit.

"I'm following rogue signal; there is a weird broadcast," Aygul said over the comms. Her voice was tight with frustration, but it was sweet. It was sweet for many reasons. One was that it was lovely to listen over the radio, and the other was that it meant we ruled the sky. However, we were unable to land in our current situation. Our ship was the only functioning vessel orbiting this hellhole. Still, the robust robotic air defense system kept the ship far from the surface. We could bomb that, but it would reveal us.

The mission statement was simple: extract the son of a Confederation elite, code-named Golden Spoon, from the planet he has been kidnapped. But Casia's intel was junk; she smelled easy money and followed the lead with the power of her hyperactivity. No mention that the whole damn planet was at war. Just our luck that Golden Spoon decided to prop up one side with Daddy's money and weapons. He obviously wanted his own banal state. Now we were stuck in this shithole until we could grab the princeling and bounce.

Casia's face was tense and drawn, her brow furrowed in concern. She looked back and forth between the holo display and me, her eyes scanning for any updates. Her usually bright and energetic demeanor was replaced with a serious and focused expression. "The mission parameters changed. I adapted as necessary."

Excuses, I bit my tongue; someone would get a good old spanking when we were back at the ship. Luckily, we were always prepared for the worst. Being stuck in the middle of a civil war on some backwater exoformed planet at the edge of the Expanse was kind of the worst. Especially when Confederation was another side of the war, not some Avernus warlord. They were well-equipped. We'd already wasted a third of our ammo and two of our combat drones taking Void Divers out. They were not in a negotiation mood, and their extra heavy power armor was bitch.

"We have the package in sight. Sending coordinates now." Aygul's pleased voice crackled through the static. "Be advised, he has a squadron of soldiers and at least one or two deflected Void Divers."

Casia's hand lifted gracefully, pointing towards the massive communications citadel in the distance. Her face was serious and focused, her brow furrowed in concern. The citadel loomed on the horizon, its walls charred and crumbling from the recent battle. "There," She said and continued. "That idiot is broadcasting like a small bunny; he doesn't have any idea his ship is in pieces after a death match with Confederation gunship."

"They're both completely toasted. The princeling has no idea we're here," I responded tersely. Yet, my mind raced with the unsettling thought of whether the Confederation ship had been able to dispatch a courier before it was obliterated. The uncertainty gnawed at me, and it seemed prudent to proceed as if we were racing against time, with our backs metaphorically aflame.

"Send drones," I issued the command with precision. It was a strategic decision to deploy a few intelligence drones, along with several combat variants, to the citadel before making our entry. The drones hovered with a subtle grace, emitting a low, persistent buzzing sound that resonated through the air. Their sleek bodies glided smoothly while their cameras whirred and clicked with mechanical efficiency, capturing every detail as they meticulously scanned the area for potential threats.

Casia gave me a mocking salute, her fingers snapping crisply to her brow, while the corners of her lips quirked up in a teasing smirk. "Yes sir, mercenary sir!" she quipped, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. With a swift turn, she darted down a narrow side street, her lithe form weaving gracefully through the obstacle course of scattered rubble and debris. I watched her go, captivated by the fluidity and precision of her movements as if she were a dancer in perfect harmony with her chaotic surroundings. Above her, two drones hovered, emitting an angry buzz as they zoomed through the air, their sleek metal bodies glinting in the sunlight. They trailed her closely, ensuring her security from above with vigilant eyes.

"Gods, what a mess," Dima muttered, his eyes following Casia as she disappeared from view. "Are her missions always this chaotic?" His voice wavered with uncertainty, betraying his unease. As one of the newest crew members, Boy was understandably a bit timid, though no one could blame him given the situation. This particular mission had gone sideways in a spectacular fashion. However, I chose not to reveal that the mission had been awful.

Roman's mocking laughter crackled through the scramblers of his mask. This distorted sound served as a fitting response to Dima's question. This would be the last time we allowed Casia to orchestrate an extraction mission. She had an uncanny talent for stumbling into trouble in the most improbable of locations. Yet, paradoxically, she was even more adept at extricating us from such predicaments.