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003 Phalanx 34

The Third Pier of the south port of the Loovimine Peninsula was noisy, busy, colorful yet surprisingly

orderly. The crew of the Skimmer lined up to send off the passengers with wide sincere smiles and

respectful bows. Disembarkation of was routinely accompanied by a colorful parade of passengers and

crew, as the sailors ran to their respective stations and performed their duties with ceremonious

precision.

Thousands of voices were competed to be the one voice above the all others. Every profession and

persuasion was represented, peddling one service or another: transportation, guided tours,

accommodations, and all sorts of recreation from the basest to the most sophisticated.

The Elder made passed by the entrance of the first class galley and approached his friend during the

cruise. Attendant 12 you have made and old mans stay very comfortable, relayed Bahtid with a bow

with his right hand over his left breast which was customary to the Kaivee.

Im glad to have been of service sir. It was a pleasure, we hope to see you in one of your future voyages

replied the Wakusavdt lady.

Looking forward to that, replied the elder. He bowed again and turned, a few seconds later the old

gentleman was indistinguishable from the rest of the mob.

Passengers looked over the railings of the decks, eyes darting back and forth excitedly to see who it was

to come and pick them up. A Kaivee father shouted the name of his daughter over the cacophony of the

crowd and a giggling little girl waved back.

The company of Vahlds men were already off the boat. They used their formation to muscle through

the crowd and got off the boat first. Ronces face was an expression of stone. Vahld looked to his

direction and signaled Ronce with his head to follow him. The members of the Rylexan Command were

dressed inconspicuously for most part. They were wearing Rylexan business attire. Only those who

knew would notice that they had matching fob watches, which made them look rather dignified or

snobbish.

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The Rylexans maintained a casual walk, not wanting to draw attention by looking too regimented. They

maintain a tight formation however in case they needed to respond quickly in case the prisoner would

try something.

Upon reaching the entrance of the pier Vahld met with an officially dressed squad of Rylexan Soldiers,

the Foreign Contingent as their battered shield pin would identify. Ronce looked up uninterestedly, as

far he was concerned one or more transfers didnt matter, one set of guards was as good as the next, or

as bad. Ronce thought it odd however, to see the reds and blacks of Rylex Lieutenant on a Tubalon.

That was something he never saw before and knew he was going to see more. The man snappily

produced his own fob from his pocket and clicked it a few times; it was set to display verifiable surface

identification, rank, name designation and unit, he promptly put it back in his pocket in prescribed

military fashion and clicked himself into attention.

By the authority given me by High Command Special Order, I Lieutenant Agilon, Column Executive

Officer, Third Tier of the Rylexan Foreign Contingent hereby relieve you of custody your prisoner and

Captain Wilgar Ronce, he said with his nasal Tubalon accent.

By the book I see eh Lieutenant? remarked Vahld smirking back to his unit and nodded to signal the

transfer of the captain. Hes all yours Lieutenant, a smilebriefly came and went Vahlds face, unit has

been relieved of prisoner custody. Goodbye Captain, Vahld said with an almost regretful tone in his

voice, it was a pleasure to have met you.

He then tossed the magnacle remote switch to Agilon which was smartly caught with one hand. Vahld

smirked and led his men out of the pier, who were looking forward to a slight shore leave before they

returned to base.

Captain, Agilon addressed Ronce formally and pressed the release to Ronces magnacles, a slight beep

and Ronces arms dropped apart, I must insist that you keep them on you until we get to base sir...

So you can turn them on again should I need to be immediately restrained as prescribed by Protocol 5

of Prisoner Escort Procedure, I am familiar Lieutenant, replied Ronce dryly.

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Thank you sir. This way please.

Ronce was escorted by five soldiers, closely following Lieutenant Agilon. They passed by the personnel

transport vehicle, it bore the peculiar Rylexan Insignia, the sword-pen. It was an image of a sword in

the ground and a quill in an inkwell combined longitudinally, the left half of the image was the sword

and the right half was the quill or pen. However the Foreign Contingents Insignia was made different.

The jewel ofthe swords pommel was replaced with the battered shield insignia, referring to their being

the first line of defense for Rylex. It was painted according regulation but the vehicle was not of

Rylexan design, it was Kaivee. It was an agricultural hover transport but modified for military use. It

was heavily armored and armed. It was probably designed to carry livestock and vegetables but now it

carried twenty soldiers though it could handle fifty. How appropriate, he thought, he did feel like an

animal being transported from farm to market.

To Ronces surprise he was led to the officers car. This one was a Rylexan hover vehicle. It was meant

to carry fifteen soldiers or five soldiers plus cargo more comfortable than the cattle carrier but still made

for fighting men. This way sir, pointed Agilon. Ronce was led into the middle part of the vehicle with a

solder on either side seated next to him. There was a gentle vibration as power flowed through the

engines. Within minutes they passed the shops and homes of the Kaivee and they entered the forest

roads, the ride was surprisingly smooth. He saw trees all around, each one green, vibrant and

flourishing. Finally, he thought to himself, hes seen a Kaivee forest road. He found the experience both

strange and fascinating.

Unlike the Rylex who transformed their society into a sophisticated mega metropolis, the Kaivee

developed tower cities. Cities of kilometers wide bases stacked up into either spiral towers or ziggurats

dwarfing the forest canopy surrounding it. They built up instead of across, allowing their forests to

flourish between city towers and community towers. To connect with each other they cut out the forest

in between cities, just enough for vehicles to pass through. Some still choose detached housing but they

are the exception.

Captain, we will be picking up supplies and more moist burn at the outpost.

Ronce was startled, Were you addressing me?What happened to no interacting with prisoners from

Prisoner Protocol 5?

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You were a prisoner sir, but when we crossed the forest road we entered Rylexan Foreign Contingent

Shared Jurisdiction. And once here I was supposed to give you this, Agilon handed over a fob watch to

Ronce and nodded, as if telling him to take it.

Ronce stared at it a while and righted it. His right thumb pressed the topmost button and it clicked open

revealing a clock face, after another press it projected an image on the glass, it was his picture with the

following credentials: Captain Wilgar Ronce, Column Commander, Third Tier, Rylexean Foreign

Contingent, Commanding Columns Skinner, Dirk and Stiletto.

I have three columns under me? Ronce said surprised.

That is correct sir.

I dont understand, Ive been exiled here. I interpreted that as discharge.

Technically its a reassignment sir. A reassignment to

A reassignment to the most hated destination in the Rylexan Military, Ronce interrupted and then

hung his head in disappointment. They used the trial as an excuse to ship me out.

Agilon frowned at the word hatedwhen it left Ronces mouth, That maybe so for you sir, remarked

the Ex-O in a slightly deeper voice, but for most of us the Foreign Contingent is our chance to make

something of ourselves. It is a second chance, to have a name, have a nation to belong to. It is our

chance to become Rylexan.

Rylexan huh. Why? Ronce looked up and said in a voice laced with contempt and sarcasm . Wow

that was touching. Tell me whats so special about us?

Sir have you heard the name Wicked Brew? asked Agilon.

Its another name for the Foreign Contingent isnt it? Something to make you people sound tough?

Partly, but mostly people use it as a slur. We are the people who leave a bad taste in the mouth the

ones that no one wants.

Criminals, fugitives, bums, Ronce enumerated possible list of outcasts forced to join the Foreign

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Contingent, and discharged Rylexan officers, how nice, Im one of the refuse now.

This is where the worthless are dumped true, but others like me think we could be more.

More? Ronce cocked an eyebrow.This is exile and dishonor. This is where the trash is taken out, this

is where we,Ronce poked his chest with his a finger, serve the empire as cannon fodder. This is where

wedie so they dont have to. We are expendable. That last statement came with a slow emphasis for

each word. But you see this as a one-stop Rylexan Citizenship shop? I guess it is, but only if you

survive long enough for your work to be noticed and recognized. Youre living in a dream, soldier.

Yes sir, we are, we are refuse, Agilon said with pride. But I think you confuse expendable to worthless.

We are the price of Rylexan freedom. We fight your wars so Rylexan soil stays clean. We keep your

necessary peace, fighting the bloody wars so you dont have to. If you dont see that, then you probably

do not deserve your commissionsir.

Ronce considered this young Tubalon. It was incredible, he was selling Rylexan patriotism. He was

being preached to by his small brown second-in-command. The Captain shook his head. Youre right I

dont deserve this. I dont deserve to be treated this way. Ive been trained by the best and the men

under me became the best they could be. I dont belong in your rag tag team ofofmon-

Monsters? Agilon snapped, his jaw clenched

Mongrels, actually, Ronce replied, staring back at Agilon. A bunch of wanna be Rylexans. Playing

soldier for a nation that theyve never seen, dying for people theyve never met.

Playing soldier, sir? Maybe you ought to see us first before you make that call. Sir. We may yet surprise

you.

See you?

Yes sir. On our way to pick up the supplies were also picking up Phalanx 34, a unit under your

command. The Phalanx heard you were coming and theyre determined not to submit to you until they

know what youre made of.

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What Im made ofhuh? What Im made of is not something you can grasp, Lieutenant. And they want

to disobey a commission to test me? This should be interesting.

Suddenly owning the commission sir? Just a second ago you didnt want to be clumped in with us

mongrels. But yes sir they will test you, because youre not one of us. Our commanders have always

been one of us from grunt to officer. Your assignment is just not done.

The rest of the trip was quiet. The guards said nothing that whole time and yet their contempt mingled

with the musky atmosphere of the transport. In another half hour, they made it to the outpost.

So theyre in there? Ronce pointed to the supply depot.

No sir, Agilon sneered, in there. His fingers pointed to the direction of the tavern.

I see. A wry smile flashed across Ronces face. Lieutenant the signal key to my magnacles please. The

lieutenant handed the key to Ronce. Ronce however didnt deactivate his magnacles, rather he turned

off the key and put it in his pocket. He straightened his uniform and jumped off the transport. A change

came on Ronce. Suddenly the downcast exile was gone and he was again the Captain, Ill have them

here in five minutes Ex-O. Prepare the transport.

Yes sir, responded Agilon with a puzzled expression.

He walked steadily towards the tavern, in the officers walk that he is accustomed to meet new recruits.

He knew these were hardened men, but by his standards they not hard enough. They were not what he

thought of as soldiers. They will have to earn that right to be his soldiers. By Rylexandrils sword he will

prove them right that he is not one of them. That he was more than they deserved to command them.

This reassignmentmay prove interesting after all.So Phalanx 34 has determined to initiate their new

officer. He thought. Thats the wrong idea boys, this wont be my initiation. This is Hell Week reception

foryou and Im your Master Makerhooooooooo-!

He entered the tavern door and stood straight. With hands behind his back he scanned the room with a

slow sweeping stare. They were mostly out of uniform or wearing them lazily. A lot were drunk and a

few had a girl or two on their laps. Wil, bellowed, Phalanx 34. Ten hut!

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An abrupt silence. Some looked up and went back to their drink and the buzzing resumed. No responded

to his command, of course. These soldiers of the wicked brew knew of the transfer order of their new

officer. They stayed where they were but they were watching.

The captain looked around again, then one of the soldiers stood noisily from his seat and approached

him. He swaggered towards the Captain and came close, very close, close enough to spit on his face.

Ronce eyed him without the pressing need to stare him down. This one, standing right in front of him

was the group goat he figured. This was the runt. His purpose here was obviously twofold, one, to

intimidate Ronce and see if he buckles and two, to gain more standing in front of his seniors for passing

his test. If he were to flinch now at the weakest of them of all people than they knew that he wasn't

much.

"Sit!" Ronce commanded explosively. Immediately knees of the man in front of him gave way as if his

legs melted at the force of the command. The man found himself staggering backward and falling on

hard on his ass. Funny how they think that they're hardened soldiers just because they're roughing it.

Now to find out how tough they really are.

"That wasn't very nice Captain," a voice behind his left shoulder said, obviously displeased that the

opening gambit didn't work. "You're new here. We dont like Rylexissies acting like they're still in Red

Soil."

Ronce turned around to face the speaker and he was just in time to see the speaker half done throwing

the bottle of his drink. Ronce zigged right out the bottle's path and zagged left, and then threw a

jumping right cross, landing flush on the man's jaw, knocking him out before he fell. The unconscious

loudmouth spun around and slumped face first on the table then slid off finishing his nap on the floor.

The men stared at the fallen man and then at Ronce.

"And so it begins," Ronce sighed to himself as he prepared for the onslaught. The men rushed him,

hoping to beat him by virtue of sheer number. He took the nearest man close to him and grabbed the

man's wrist and twisted his arm behind him and pulled on the man's hair with his other hand turning

him into a human shield.

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He released his shield on a pair that tried to grab him from behind. Another attacker was dispatched

with a kick to the chest. He was fast and efficient, never allowing himself to be surrounded. Ronce tried

to fight his way to the front door to spare the other patrons from the melee and his future men from

further damage. But they were both smart and stupid enough to block his exits.

It was starting to get dangerous for him and for them. The more they escalate the situation the more he

would simplify his response. And simple responses had no room for finesse. He would soon need to get

more efficient and more forceful. He couldn't risk that.

His eyes scanned across the room until he found, the ringleader. The plan was simple, where the head

goes the body follows, and he intended to take the head down. He locked gazes with the man and ran

towards him. They both knew then that there's nothing that can stop Ronce.

The Captain made quick work of those that stood in his way, slamming his forearm against shins and

heads like a bat. A surprising metallic clang rang out every time he struck which startled his attackers.

The kingsteel alloy that made the magnacles so durable made them virtually impossible to remove by

brute force. That durability now allowed the magnacles to function as vambraces. His unexpectedly

armored forearm was employed as a hammer as well as a shield, breaking faces and knuckles alike.

Then he saw a clear path and he took it. He climbed the table of the Phalanx Commander, the one who

was to be next in line until he found out that he as to continue under the command of a complete

stranger. Ronce flew towards the man, taking him down in a dive. He got up quickly and kneeled on the

man's chest, and shoved the man's face forcefully back hitting his head on the floor. He then sat down

hard on the man's chest and punched the man's face twice.

"Call them off," Ronce told him in a cold steady voice.

"I don't give the..." Ronce punched him harder two more times for his denial.

"Call them off," he repeated.

"But I'm not their..." suddenly Ronce grabbed the man by his lapel and rolled back, in the next instant

the Captain was on his back and kicked the man off him. The thrown man toppled some chairs upon his

landing and moved the nearby table by a couple of feet.

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Ronce got up and stalked the man he just threw. The mob came to an abrupt stop. There was no longer

a need to call them off. Just like that the situation turned from neutralizing his attackers to a hostile

takeover.

He stood over the man and took him by the collar and dragged the man behind him as he walked out of

the pub. The door closed on itself leaving to their imaginations what the new Captain would do to their

leader. No one was sure what to do next. They started feeling the hurt that was administered. They

started to pick themselves up and help each other to their feet. They clutched their bodies in the places

they were hit and admitted to themselves that they all received a sound beating. Whatever the Captain

planned to do to the commander they were powerless to stop it.

"PHALANX 34, FALL IN!" It was the command to assemble. And it was given by their commander. Pain

would have to wait. The soldiers burst out of the pub door and formed a block of men, four lines deep,

seven men per line in front of their commander. "ATTEN-SHUN!" Commanded the bloodied Phalanx

Commander, the men responded like one -- board stiff.

The commander snappily turned around and raised the back of his right fist to his forehead and dropped

it to his left breast now palm in the customary salute. Ronce returned the salute and himself turned and

faced Agilon.

"My men are ready to take my command Lieutenant," Ronce announced, "relay your message." Agilon

didnt seem to hear the order at first. He then regained his composure and began his announcement.

"Captain Wilgar Ronce has been commissioned to take command three of the nine columns of the

Rylexean Foreign Contingent stationed in the Loovimine Peninsula, Columns Skinner, Dirk and Stiletto

respectively. As Phalanx 34 belongs to Column Dirk which is falls under his command, he is now your

Captain. He replaces Captain Rhee Janis."

"Order acknowledged?" Ronce asked the unit. Silence. His voice isn't familiar to them, it will take time.

But they will respond, now! "ORDER ACKNOWLEDGED?" He repeated, louder this time.

"HOOOOOOOOO!" They bellowed as one.