CHAPTER FIVE:
‘The Informant’
Fenir awoke to find himself in an unfamiliar bed, made of rare Mahogany and supporting the Alliance Republic logo on it’s head. For a moment, he did not realise where he was, and then he remembered; This was his room now, it was the Frontal Admiral Quarters. Realising he had still not changed from his Marine Training Pickle Suit, he hurled himself awkwardly out of the large bed, and hastily slipped into his new, heavier Admiral Armour. He marvelled at the Grav Pack before sliding it over his shoulders. He knew he had a meeting at 8:00, where he had to present himself to the general members of the Alliance, but as he was walking towards the door something caught his eye on the bedside table.
Sitting on the polished wood, there lay a note; it read ‘Admiral Herbst, come to Rackman’s peak at 6:50PM, come alone- a friend.’
Suspecting a trap, but curious none the less, Fenir pulled his pistol off the bedside table, checking that it was loaded before sliding it into his embodied hip- holster, then, he began to make his way out of the walled area of the complex, picking his way over the red rocks and shingle that dotted across The Woofer like a madman’s idea of a pattern. On nearing the gate, he flashed his pass at the guards before making his way towards Rackman’s peak.
Instead of approaching the peak the expected route, he doubled around it, expecting at any moment to see a masked Sypharium assassin hiding out of sight, but his journey was uneventful. However, on reaching the peak, he saw no sign of anyone. Beginning to grow nervous, he jumped back onto the path and turned towards home. Above his head, there was a noise of shifting rock, He glanced up warily, to see a figure silouhetted against the dying sun. In the twilight, it looked almost angelic, and Fenir found himself wondering if he had stumbled on something sacred. He looked away for a minute, counting down the seconds.
Fenir glanced backup at the ridge, expecting the mysterious figure to have vanished, but he stood perfectly still, his snow white hair and the mask that covered half of his face fluttering in the wind. The man beckoned urgently for Fenir to climb the ridge, curious despite himself, Fenir drew his pistol and climbed up, but the man was already walking away towards the outskirts of the mountainside.
‘Hey! Stop!’
The figure turned to face Fenir, and placed himself nonchalantly on a large rock, looking much like a vulture.
‘Fenir Herbst… I am pleased to meet you. Or should I say, Admiral…
Shame about your grandfather, but Syph. were bound to do it sooner or later.’
Fenir stared at the man, taking in for the first time, his general appearance. His white hair that had appeared clean and unblemished from the ground, up close showed that he had no washed in many days. He wore familiar dark grey armour with a torn shirt, and battered leg guards. The man looked as if he may have once been an officer in some far away military, but all he looked like now was an outcast. Fenir found his eyes drawn to a patch on the armour’s right breast, where the outline of a star sat, along with a dark patch where someone had crudely hacked it away with a knife. The stranger followed Fenir’s eyes and smiled.
‘Don’t worry, I was one of them once, but no longer.’
He reached into his pocket and Fenir tensed, aiming the pistol at the man’s head, but he merely shook his head and smiled, pulling out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter.
‘Smoke?’
Fenir shook his head. ‘No thanks.’
‘I expect you are wondering who I am, or for that matter why I am here talking to you now…’
‘Just a bit.’
‘My name is Romulus Hand, as you can see from my appearance I was once a member of Sypharium… but no longer;’
He pulled the grey scarf from his face, and Fenir looked away in horror.
‘Yes. Not nice is it?’
Romulus’s neck had a large red rope burn spanning the length of it, and his mouth was twisted into a permanent sneer where some sort of blade had slashed half of his nose to chunks and pushed his lip down onto his lower jaw.
‘I was hung’
Romulus explained. ‘I was blamed for something I did not do, and they did this to me. My tormentor showed me the small mercy of turning me lose afterwards. Since my hanging, my loyalty has been with the Alliance. While your grandfather was alive I would help him in areas he would not dabble with himself; a little bit of espionage… blackmail…
The dirty stuff.’
Filing this piece of information in his head under useful, Fenir decided to try another tack.
‘Who was your tormentor, Romulus..?’
Romulus gave what may have been a smile, knowing that Fenir had found his weak spot in the brief time they had been talking.
‘Your grandfather said you were smart.’ Romulus replied, avoiding the question. ‘You are like him, you know… Your grandfather I mean, when he was younger.’
Fenir nodded. ‘So I’ve been told, Mr. Hand.’
Romulus pulled the cigarette from his mouth and ground it into the shingle with his boot.
‘Fenir, do not sleep in the Admiral’s bedchamber tonight… they will try to kill you.’
‘Who?’
But Romulus was already standing up, as he began to trudge away from Fenir the heavens opened, litres of rain pouring down onto the mountainside. Romulus pulled a black umbrella from his torn pack, and sauntered off into the early evening.
Fenir watched him go, before turning away from his informant and dashing down the slope, back towards the perimeter fence.