08-04-2015, 01:35 AM
It’d been a few days since he’d arrived. Nat had put him up on the roster, for high-profile clients. Didn’t want him to go too quickly, she’d said, and she wanted to know he wasn’t just getting bought for somebody to turn him into food. He’d hoped that she wouldn’t be selling him at all, but he was grateful all the same.
It was raining out today. The rain here was rare, he’d heard from a few of the other prisoners. Only happened a couple times a year, although certain parts of the verse saw a fair bit more than others. The slaves were to stay in their hovels today. Big Ron lay flat on his cot, watching the water drip down from the ceiling. The gentle patter of rain drops against the corrugated metal roof was almost hypnotic.
He’d learned a lot of things talking to these prisoners since he got there—and a couple things from Nat, during her visits, which took a pattern of once every two or three days. Some things he’d already heard; things like verses, and Omni, and Primes and secondaries—of which he’d determined that he was the latter. He’d gotten a lot more in the way of fine details, though, talking to the slaves and the slavers when there was no work to be done.
He’d heard tell of a Town With No Name somewhere here in the Dunes, and talk of gates into other worlds. That a bunch of primes with fire in their belly were gathering up to try and overthrow the god of this place. A few more were interested simply in righting wrongs—and a handful of them were interested in causing them. A whole world full of immortal assholes, Ron smiled bitterly. Things have gone from bad to worse for the fine folks of Grey Paramilitary.
There was another thing he’d come to know, too. Or, more accurately, he had begun to assume. As a secondary, he was summoned here—intentionally or not—by a Prime. And, Ron figured, if the Prime summoned him, it stood to reason that the Prime in question had a personal attachment to Big Ron.
It was clear as day: Grey was out there somewhere.
Ron sighed; if he had his slate or his headset, he could try the usual frequencies that Grey left his earpiece on. As it stood, though, he was alone. If he was going to escape, he’d have to get a better idea of where The Town With No Name was. Even then, he’d have to wait to steal one of their hoverbikes. He could try knocking one of the guards unconscious and taking their key, but he wasn’t sure how they worked yet. He also thought of trying to hotwire one, but he’d need to see somebody else do it.
His thoughts leapt onto the back-burner as a form entered his shack. It was Nat. She wasn’t armed, like usual. The rain had soaked deep into her cloak, which she quickly cast off. Ron tried not to stare at her face for too long at once as she spoke.
“I have a favor to ask of you.” She said, making it clear from her tone that Ron didn’t have much choice. He lazily shifted his gaze to meet hers, showing that he was listening.
“You mentioned the other day that you’re a Secondary,” she began, “and the fact that you just got here means that the Prime who summoned you is probably pretty new himself—much weaker than you know them as being. Now, this isn’t necessarily the case based solely on that one bit of info, but I’ve learned that none of the Primes I’m familiar with have any idea who you might be attached to, so that’s why I think you’re accompanying a totally new arrival.”
Ron nodded his understanding. She continued: “So, my favor is for you to bring him here. I’m ransoming you to him. When he arrives, I’ll collect a handsome fee for your safe return, and then you can forget all about me.”
She reached into a fold in her rough-stitched top and produced Ron’s headset. He hid a wide grin; she had no idea who she was dealing with. “I want you to get this thing set up to call whoever you think summoned you, and then put me on with your Prime.”
Ron took the headset from her, feigning hesitation. He looked at it; the thing was covered in sand. He brushed it off and started dialing… He’d try the lower frequencies first and work his way up. Placing the band over his head, he adjusted the microphone as the device rang softly in his ear.
No luck. He tried another, and another; it wasn’t until his fourth try that he was met with silence.
“This is Grey,” Ron heard, over what sounded like the roaring of an automobile engine, “talk to me.” Ron had hoped that The Grey Man would be a little more excited to hear from his best friend in the entire galaxy, but he held back on this remark. “It’s me, Grey,” replied Big Ron, “and I’m in a bit of a jam.”
“You and me both, brotherman. I’ve been traveling for a bit with a man who calls himself Drive. We seem to be trapped in some kind of alternate universe and I can’t contact the rest of Strike Team. What’s your deal?”
“I’m here in the omniverse as well—I got taken captive my first day here. I’m in a place called The Endless Dunes. Have you heard of it?”
“Endless Dunes, huh? Yeah, I know a little bit about the place. We’re in Camelot right now,” a brief pause, then “god that’s weird to say out loud.”
“Yeah, really. Anyway, the lady who took me captive wants to talk to you.”
“Ah, figures. You have to stop letting this happen to you. Put her on.”
Ron removed the headset and handed it over to Nat. She spoke with a commanding voice, “state your name, Prime.”
“You can call me The Grey Man, just like everyone else,” Grey spoke into her ear.
“Okay, ‘The Grey Man’,” she shot back sardonically, “here’s how this works: you come out to The Town With No Name, alone, and you meet up with one of our scouting parties—again, alone. You come with us, no weapons, no tricks, no funny business. We negotiate. We agree on a price. You pay that price. Ron walks free with you. Sound good?”
“I may be a while; I’m in Camelot. But for now I suppose I’ll play your little game.”
“Goddamn right you will,” she snapped back. “I’ll see you then. The party comes in every Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday. Ask the two strangers in the saloon if they know a way to make a little extra flatbread…. And don’t make fun of our code-phrases.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. You stay classy. Grey out.”
Ron couldn’t tell what he’d said to her; she seemed a little annoyed. She removed the headset and put it back in its pocket. “Your Prime seems like a bit of a character. It’s almost like he doesn’t even care about you.” She mused. “Yeah,” Ron replied, “he can come off that way.”
“How did somebody like you end up rubbing elbows with a cat like that?” she asked, bending down to sit on the floor of Ron’s holding shack. He thought back; he’d actually been pretty careful not to reveal much about Grey. He should keep doing so now.
In fact, if he knew The Grey Man, the smart thing to do would be to lie to her to make him seem less threatening… and make no mistake, nobody knows The Grey Man half as well as Big Ron, save for the Man himself.
“Well,” he started, “The Grey Man is a little bit paranoid, because he’s the CEO of a major megacorp back home, specializing in paramilitary gear and equipment. He’s probably going to be armed when you meet him, but it’s just going to be for show. He’s my best friend, and he’s got some formal experience with military operations… but that was a long time ago. I’m sure that with as many people as you have he won’t dare try anything too crazy.”
She nodded and raised an eyebrow. “So you’re saying that he’s just some boring loser with a desk job?”
“Well, not exactly boring…”
“Then tell me what you’re not telling me. There has to be some reason that Omni brought him here. He doesn’t like boring old assholes.”
“Well, I may or may not be understating the kind of influence he has,” Ron said, trying to sound quite sheepish. “He actually managed to use his natural talents in the realm of negotiation and diplomacy to end wars… and start them, too. After all, too much peace is bad for business.”
She smiled, that same cynical little half-smile that accompanied a lighting up of her eyes and caused Ron’s heart to stop for just a moment every time he saw it. “I see,” she said, sounding intrigued, “so he’s a desk jockey by day, interplanetary troublemaker by night… Alright, I’ll buy it. That kind of fellow certainly seems like they’d fit the bill of Prime. The Emperor and King Aragorn may both be scary dudes in a fight, but they are mostly political figures. I look forward to meeting this Grey Man. Maybe we can forge some kind of alliance.”
I wouldn’t bet on it, Ron thought.
“I bet he’d go for that.” Ron said.
It was raining out today. The rain here was rare, he’d heard from a few of the other prisoners. Only happened a couple times a year, although certain parts of the verse saw a fair bit more than others. The slaves were to stay in their hovels today. Big Ron lay flat on his cot, watching the water drip down from the ceiling. The gentle patter of rain drops against the corrugated metal roof was almost hypnotic.
He’d learned a lot of things talking to these prisoners since he got there—and a couple things from Nat, during her visits, which took a pattern of once every two or three days. Some things he’d already heard; things like verses, and Omni, and Primes and secondaries—of which he’d determined that he was the latter. He’d gotten a lot more in the way of fine details, though, talking to the slaves and the slavers when there was no work to be done.
He’d heard tell of a Town With No Name somewhere here in the Dunes, and talk of gates into other worlds. That a bunch of primes with fire in their belly were gathering up to try and overthrow the god of this place. A few more were interested simply in righting wrongs—and a handful of them were interested in causing them. A whole world full of immortal assholes, Ron smiled bitterly. Things have gone from bad to worse for the fine folks of Grey Paramilitary.
There was another thing he’d come to know, too. Or, more accurately, he had begun to assume. As a secondary, he was summoned here—intentionally or not—by a Prime. And, Ron figured, if the Prime summoned him, it stood to reason that the Prime in question had a personal attachment to Big Ron.
It was clear as day: Grey was out there somewhere.
Ron sighed; if he had his slate or his headset, he could try the usual frequencies that Grey left his earpiece on. As it stood, though, he was alone. If he was going to escape, he’d have to get a better idea of where The Town With No Name was. Even then, he’d have to wait to steal one of their hoverbikes. He could try knocking one of the guards unconscious and taking their key, but he wasn’t sure how they worked yet. He also thought of trying to hotwire one, but he’d need to see somebody else do it.
His thoughts leapt onto the back-burner as a form entered his shack. It was Nat. She wasn’t armed, like usual. The rain had soaked deep into her cloak, which she quickly cast off. Ron tried not to stare at her face for too long at once as she spoke.
“I have a favor to ask of you.” She said, making it clear from her tone that Ron didn’t have much choice. He lazily shifted his gaze to meet hers, showing that he was listening.
“You mentioned the other day that you’re a Secondary,” she began, “and the fact that you just got here means that the Prime who summoned you is probably pretty new himself—much weaker than you know them as being. Now, this isn’t necessarily the case based solely on that one bit of info, but I’ve learned that none of the Primes I’m familiar with have any idea who you might be attached to, so that’s why I think you’re accompanying a totally new arrival.”
Ron nodded his understanding. She continued: “So, my favor is for you to bring him here. I’m ransoming you to him. When he arrives, I’ll collect a handsome fee for your safe return, and then you can forget all about me.”
She reached into a fold in her rough-stitched top and produced Ron’s headset. He hid a wide grin; she had no idea who she was dealing with. “I want you to get this thing set up to call whoever you think summoned you, and then put me on with your Prime.”
Ron took the headset from her, feigning hesitation. He looked at it; the thing was covered in sand. He brushed it off and started dialing… He’d try the lower frequencies first and work his way up. Placing the band over his head, he adjusted the microphone as the device rang softly in his ear.
No luck. He tried another, and another; it wasn’t until his fourth try that he was met with silence.
“This is Grey,” Ron heard, over what sounded like the roaring of an automobile engine, “talk to me.” Ron had hoped that The Grey Man would be a little more excited to hear from his best friend in the entire galaxy, but he held back on this remark. “It’s me, Grey,” replied Big Ron, “and I’m in a bit of a jam.”
“You and me both, brotherman. I’ve been traveling for a bit with a man who calls himself Drive. We seem to be trapped in some kind of alternate universe and I can’t contact the rest of Strike Team. What’s your deal?”
“I’m here in the omniverse as well—I got taken captive my first day here. I’m in a place called The Endless Dunes. Have you heard of it?”
“Endless Dunes, huh? Yeah, I know a little bit about the place. We’re in Camelot right now,” a brief pause, then “god that’s weird to say out loud.”
“Yeah, really. Anyway, the lady who took me captive wants to talk to you.”
“Ah, figures. You have to stop letting this happen to you. Put her on.”
Ron removed the headset and handed it over to Nat. She spoke with a commanding voice, “state your name, Prime.”
“You can call me The Grey Man, just like everyone else,” Grey spoke into her ear.
“Okay, ‘The Grey Man’,” she shot back sardonically, “here’s how this works: you come out to The Town With No Name, alone, and you meet up with one of our scouting parties—again, alone. You come with us, no weapons, no tricks, no funny business. We negotiate. We agree on a price. You pay that price. Ron walks free with you. Sound good?”
“I may be a while; I’m in Camelot. But for now I suppose I’ll play your little game.”
“Goddamn right you will,” she snapped back. “I’ll see you then. The party comes in every Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday. Ask the two strangers in the saloon if they know a way to make a little extra flatbread…. And don’t make fun of our code-phrases.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. You stay classy. Grey out.”
Ron couldn’t tell what he’d said to her; she seemed a little annoyed. She removed the headset and put it back in its pocket. “Your Prime seems like a bit of a character. It’s almost like he doesn’t even care about you.” She mused. “Yeah,” Ron replied, “he can come off that way.”
“How did somebody like you end up rubbing elbows with a cat like that?” she asked, bending down to sit on the floor of Ron’s holding shack. He thought back; he’d actually been pretty careful not to reveal much about Grey. He should keep doing so now.
In fact, if he knew The Grey Man, the smart thing to do would be to lie to her to make him seem less threatening… and make no mistake, nobody knows The Grey Man half as well as Big Ron, save for the Man himself.
“Well,” he started, “The Grey Man is a little bit paranoid, because he’s the CEO of a major megacorp back home, specializing in paramilitary gear and equipment. He’s probably going to be armed when you meet him, but it’s just going to be for show. He’s my best friend, and he’s got some formal experience with military operations… but that was a long time ago. I’m sure that with as many people as you have he won’t dare try anything too crazy.”
She nodded and raised an eyebrow. “So you’re saying that he’s just some boring loser with a desk job?”
“Well, not exactly boring…”
“Then tell me what you’re not telling me. There has to be some reason that Omni brought him here. He doesn’t like boring old assholes.”
“Well, I may or may not be understating the kind of influence he has,” Ron said, trying to sound quite sheepish. “He actually managed to use his natural talents in the realm of negotiation and diplomacy to end wars… and start them, too. After all, too much peace is bad for business.”
She smiled, that same cynical little half-smile that accompanied a lighting up of her eyes and caused Ron’s heart to stop for just a moment every time he saw it. “I see,” she said, sounding intrigued, “so he’s a desk jockey by day, interplanetary troublemaker by night… Alright, I’ll buy it. That kind of fellow certainly seems like they’d fit the bill of Prime. The Emperor and King Aragorn may both be scary dudes in a fight, but they are mostly political figures. I look forward to meeting this Grey Man. Maybe we can forge some kind of alliance.”
I wouldn’t bet on it, Ron thought.
“I bet he’d go for that.” Ron said.