"Survey Says" (Part 5)

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Anthony left the airlock and crossed the landing area, still fuming inside but feeling the anger slowly drain out. Ivan had just been on edge all week, and it wasn't fair to really blame him. Belle's sickness would ensure that little can of worms wasn't opened, and he really didn't want to try contacting either Jonathan or Leonard. Especially since Jonathan had gotten rather miffed when asked not to even begin writing a report. Leonard, on the other hand, just was angry everything was getting more complicated.

He stopped while walking through the terminal, glancing to his wrist and checking the time before heading out. He was just outside before hearing a loud explosion, and turned around. At seeing the plume of smoke, he turned and ran through the terminal, pushing people aside. There were no emergency response teams headed for the spot, just a maintenance team scrambling away. The K-1 was smoking from what looked like one of the side fueling ports, as Anthony threw off his jacket and ran towards it. "Miles, Ivan, what-" He jerked it out of his ear and threw it aside at the electronic squeal, before climbing up to the airlock hatch.

On the other side, he saw smoke, and Ivan was dragging Belle into the chamber beside Miles. "Ivan!" He screamed at the glass, and pounded on it. The hull was hot, but shouldn't be, a thought discarded almost immediately. The other man glanced up and shook his head, making a shooing motion, coughing through a rag. "Hold on, I'll get the emergency release."

Anthony reached his hand for the panel and ignored the jolt of pain which came through touching the increasing warmth of the hull. The panel popped off easily and the lever was even warmer, the coating on it actually sticking to his palm as he pulled - and nothing happened. He released the lever and cradled his hand, looking up to see Ivan peering through the glass and yelling.

"Get away! I need to blow it from inside!" The muffled voice started, as Anthony stumbled back, other hand resting against the hull and jerking back. "Get clear-"

Another muffled whump of air inside, as Ivan ducked away from the door. When Anthony looked back, all he saw were flames. He hobbled away, and then broke out into a run, thoughts of the painful burning of his hands replaced by several dozen conflicting thoughts. How had this happened? There were supposed to be ways this sort of thing wouldn't happen, a dozen safety features would have to all break before something this catastrophic would happen.

He stopped in the shadow of the entryway, trying to flex his hands and finding them slow to respond. First, the fueling shouldn't have been the cause of this; the fuel system leaks would have been diverted elsewhere. And the internal sections would have opened to the external atmosphere on landing, the airlock more of a formality than a necessity. So there should have been nothing in the air to catch fire as violently as that. The atmospheric emergency features should have vented smoke out of the interior, and it should have also tried to starve out a fire by sealing off parts. Assuming the fire suppression systems were offline, on top of the other things to go wrong. The fuel cells shouldn't be nearby anything to catch them on fire if there was an electrical problem on the inside of the ship - and there were times when Miles or Leonard had to climb into places to check on shorts, so it would have been a problem sooner.

The resulting conclusion made Anthony's eyes widen and he began to move now to get lost in the crowd, wondering where Jonathan or Leonard would be. Now the emergency teams were responding, before the line was ruptured and something happened. Only after the K-1 was a furnace for anyone caught inside.

Where to find the other survivors? He pondered, and recalled something Leonard had said last time they had been here. Something about a restaurant. He grabbed a shirt and tourist guide from a stand nearby, wrapping his hand in the shirt and thumbing through it to look for a particular entry.

One hour later, he entered the restaurant slowly, and waved off the host. "I'm with them." He pointed to a corner table and wandered over, adrenaline having long since worn off as he hobbled there and sunk into a chair. Leonard and Jonathan had gotten new shirts, and Leonard was wearing the most ridiculous pair of dark glasses.

And by now, the shirt wrapping the hand had been discarded now, which made Leonard glance down and pale. "Oh god, Anthony, your hand-"

"Will heal, damn it." He hissed out. "Ivan, Miles, and Belle aren't going to be so lucky." Jonathan's head came up from his deep thoughts, and Anthony looked over. "What the hell?"

The other man spoke very slowly, and Anthony realized the patterns were exactly the same as when Jonathan was dictating for a report. Clinical, precise, clipped. "We do not yet know. We were hoping you could find us, because we had no way to really be sure how to reach you." A pause. "Were you followed? Did you get a look at anyone who could have done this?"

"Jonathan." Leonard reached over and placed a hand on the other's shoulder. "Look at him, this isn't the time."

"I've had time to think about it and get over it for now." Anthony said slowly, and grabbed a water glass on the table. He flinched as his skin touched the cold surface and almost dropped the glass. "Someone rigged the DropShip to be a place for all of us to die, but they missed the three of us. How long do you think we have before they realize it?"

"Not long enough. We need off the planet, but whomever did this is going to be looking for us." Leonard muttered. "We can go to ground for a while, they may stop looking."

"They're not going to stop looking." Anthony said slowly. "They went through this much trouble, we were lucky they didn't go for a wider attack." He looked at Jonathan. "You did it, didn't you?" Leonard's head whipped around quickly to stare at the other man at the table. "You filed a preliminary report. When?"

"Anthony-"

"When did you do it, Jonathan?!" He hissed out.

Jonathan sighed slowly, and put both hands on his cheeks. "Before we pushed off for the outer planets and rogue planetoids out there. I had it filed with ComStar just in case something happened to us, with instructions to transmit if we were not back a week from now."

"Well by doing that report, you killed them. And if we can't get off planet and hidden soon, all the rest of us too." Anthony replied bitterly. "First thing's first though, who has the menu? I need something to eat."

"You want to eat? Now?!" Leonard lifted his glasses, and scowled. "Why?"

"I didn't get a chance to before I left the ship."

"Let it go, Leonard." Jonathan muttered. "We will just... drink to them, and not forget I did this." He rubbed his face, and then started to stand before sinking back down again. "No, no point to leaving the table for this." He simply rested his elbows on the table, hung his head, and put his hands around the back of it, sitting that way while Anthony glared and Leonard stared at him. One of the more professional people he'd worked with, Jonathan just seemed shattered now.

"When you're done figuring out how to think on this, we need to get off-planet and somewhere we can fake some identities. Any of you have money we can touch?"

"I know a guy." Leonard said softly. "Had him fix up a few things before we started this mission, should still be able to rely on him. The problem is, he's on Sudeten. "

"Wait." Jonathan lifted his head. "No, that is- no."

"Can you think of someone else? He's got the connections, and he's probably the only person who wouldn't care about what we found here. He already got his big score, and he's working on expanding that rather than worrying about anything else."

"Do you mind filling me in?" Anthony asked, sighing.

"Later. Right now, we need to get a message-"

"No, we're not using ComStar." He dropped his voice quieter. "Think about it. Jonathan filed a report but it shouldn't have been sent. Now, unless we assume the people at the station disobeyed instructions and sent it anyway that means only they should have read the report to file it properly."

"Are you saying ComStar put a hit out on us?"

"I'm saying they're likely complicit. I don't know who did it, but the leaked report is the only way someone would know for sure. There is a lot of speculation, but for certain? This attack happened because someone knew we knew something important. Whomever put it out, we know where it leaked from, now. We don't use ComStar until we have new identities, but we should be able to use what we have on hand locally to swap for something they won't watch."

"You're pretty up to speed." Leonard said quietly.

"I had an hour in a taxi to think about this. I'm not quite over this but I really think we need to get out of here first and then figure it out." He then turned around and waved to one of the waiters. "For now, let's just get food."

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It was everything Anthony expected when Leonard had told him where they'd meet. The room was slightly smoky, a few patrons sitting and enjoying food and a drink, while a video of a recorded Solaris match was playing. A few people glanced over, but ignored the trio while Jonathan muttered under his breath softly. "Calm down, it's not that bad." Anthony murmured.

"’Mech jocks."

"No, actually, these are mostly technicians I think." Anthony glanced around. "They're watching the recordings, not betting on them." He flexed his fingers under the gloves, and winced at how he heard the crackle in his ears. He might never get used to that, and probably would need to look into a cane.

This was met with a puzzled look. "Who would bet on recordings?"

"You've never been in a ’MechWarrior bar have you?"

Jonathan shrugged, conceding the point with a roll of the eyes. "Leonard, where is the gentleman we are meeting?"

Leonard just pointed to a far corner booth, and started walking over there. "Mike! Hey there." Anthony and Jonathan exchanged glances before following. The man at the table glanced up, and frowned as the trio sat down. "What's good here? Burgers?"

"Leo, you still owe me."

"Kind of have a cash flow problem."

"Of course." A sigh and he waved over the bartender. "Please take their orders, and bring it quickly? They've just had a long trip." After that was settled, the four all exchanged looks. "Get to the point, please?"

"Thanks for talking with me, Mike."

"I run a business now, and I don't get time to relax all that much." He sipped from his pint and leaned back. "So start talking, because I can only give you an hour."

"Anthony?"

Anthony flexed his hands, and winced some as the requested ice water arrived; who paid that much for 'glacial melt' from someplace called Anywhere? Was that even a real system? "Where to start?" He shook his head. "We are a survey team who was hired to do a simple mineral survey. It was supposed to take two years, and we're about fifteen months into it." He leaned forward and began talking about what they found, with Mike's face going still and ashen at the end as Anthony showed his gloved hands.

"And so you see, Mister Olivetti, we need help." Jonathan spoke up at the end, sipping from his own drink. Still on the first one, despite Leonard and Michael being down a couple.

"From your description, I'd say that base had a Wasp, Shadow Hawk, and Stinger at least." He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. "Nothing worth getting killed over. The Invader, maybe, but that hadn't been part of the report."

"I didn't know you knew ’Mechs." Leonard said, drinking the last of his glass.

"I build the damn things now. Just started up a line for the Warhammer last month, and if I can get a deal I can start licensing the right to build components for Thunderbolts. I had to read up a lot on what I could get the licenses to build, you know, and be the more profitable. Wasps, Stingers, Locusts? I can afford those but can I sell them?" He shrugged.

"New machines command a premium price." Jonathan said slowly.

"True, as do new components instead of refurbished. Problem is, there's not that many places who sell just components. They build them, then ship them to go into chassis for use." Michael drank again, and sighed. "I find it's more profitable to just build the components and then the whole ’Mech. But I was lucky to-" He caught himself. "Nevermind."

"I told you, this guy didn't need us." Leonard said to the other two. "He's already got enough problems."

"Damn straight. Expanding into another chassis type is going to cost a fortune, and trying to go to some place just for a pile of parts and maybe working ’Mechs isn't something I can afford."

"It's not just that. We found something else." Anthony said, exasperated. "Which never made it into the report. And we haven't talked about yet, even among ourselves." Jonathan gave him a hurt look, but said nothing.

"What, Lostech? Come on, you're talking to me about that?" Michael snorted and picked up a fresh drink. "Unless you're talking a memory core, it's a nice novelty but not much use." He stopped after watching Leonard shoot Anthony a look. "It's not a memory core is it?" He put down the glass. A memory core was out of the question, equipment meant to retain an incredible amount of data from schematics to design manuals, often reserved for research or manufacturing centers. And they tended to attract very high-profile attention, the sort you couldn't afford to ignore.

"No."

"Okay, good. Lostech, though?"

"Yes." Anthony fidgeted and glanced around.

"Well, there's a finite amount of that out there so it's still kind of valuable. Not worth pulling what happened to you though. A military outpost would have mostly weapons, though."

"It wasn't a military outpost. It was just guarded by ’Mechs, I think." Leonard cleared his throat. "Tell him the rest."

Anthony sighed and closed his eyes before continuing. "It was a manufacturing facility, and most of the hardware was abandoned and shut down rather than removed." Jonathan stopped to stare at him.

"A ’Mech factory?" Michael's stare was level, piercing. "That would be worth killing for. It would be worth starting a war over."

"No." Anthony cleared his throat, and looked to Jonathan before speaking again. "Fusion engines. The kind rated for combat equipment, but you could technically build smaller if you wanted to." He almost savored the look on Jonathan's face, before he continued. "I didn't catch the brand name."

Jonathan recovered after a moment, before Michael could, and spoke up slowly. "There probably was no brand, just an in-house production. If this was off the record, which it surely had to be to avoid being removed, then I doubt there were major manufacturers involved."

"God damn it." Their host glanced at his wrist. "I have to get back, I still have supplier meetings to iron out." He stood up. "Look, I have some people I trust who have done microgravity work before fixing ships. I can loan you some to go get that Invader, but you're going to need to figure out how to hide it until whomever's after you stops looking. I don't want to touch that facility with a friend's hand let alone my own."

"Thanks, Mike."

"Shut up." He slowly stood. "I don't have that many friends left to use like that, is all. Leo, I can get you guys furnished with something to get started. After that, it's all on you."

"It's okay. We have a plan."

Michael shrugged on his jacket, shaking his head. "Drop by here around closing time. I know the owner and he is used to me bringing people around for business deals. And for God's sake don't tell anyone you're alive." He walked out, settling the bill with the bartender along the way.

"So what do we do now?" Jonathan asked quietly.

"I told you, we have a plan." Leonard said, and leaned back. "Scatter and run. I plan on seeing what Canopus can offer me."

"You're the wrong gender so, not much. Better luck with the Concordat, though they'd probably believe you an enemy spy."

"Or you could just try the Combine." Jonathan put in. "If luck holds out, it would not be terrible, would it?"

"Screw you both." Leonard muttered. "What about you, Jonathan?"

"My gifts are more in another area. Analysis." He sipped from his drink. "I would rather put them to use than hide them." He chuckled at the expression. "Anthony?"

"I'm taking that repair crew Michael's offering, and getting that ship." Anthony looked at the other two. "Then I'm going to devote time to figuring out just who was the one who put a target on us, put them in an airlock, and pump out the air."

Silence. "Revenge?" Jonathan tilted his head. "I would think living and managing to do something with our lives after that incident-"

"It's not about my life." Anthony planted his hand on the table, and even that hurt slightly where skin flexed. "It's about Belle, Miles, and Ivan being roasted alive. And me having to watch the ship go up." He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again they were steadily looking at the other two. "Do either of you want to help?"

"Yes, but-"

"I'm in." Leonard said strongly, leaning to place his elbows on the table, resting his chin on one hand as the other drew a circle in the air to encompass the three of them. "Provided, of course, we make absolutely sure they are the right people before we do it."

"You two are insane." Jonathan muttered, slumping in his seat. "But if I do nothing to help you, I will regret it. Count me in."

Anthony nodded slowly. "We'll need time to come up with a plan of some sort. Once we can get that crew, and pay back Mister Olivetti, then we worry about getting things in motion. One step at a time."

Jonathan raised his glass and started to drink, not stopping until it was empty. "One pawn at a time, Anthony? Do not forget to more than a few moves ahead."

"That's not the trick, the trick is knowing your opponent and what their habits are. Knowing how they think." Anthony closed his eyes. "And that's the first part of what we need to do, figure out how they came at us and what they have at their disposal. Then we figure out how they use it." He opened his eyes and looked upwards. "Once we do, then we can plan how to use that."

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