"We have a second kauka," Davis replies. "If you have your Turai move to the middle of the field in front of us and lay down their weapons, we will come out and heal any wounded you have, starting with the ones injured in the exchange, after your medicae have stabilized them."
*Agreed.* Varna cuts off and you see Hale giving directions, waving the lone uninjured Turai to the middle of the clearing. One of the soldiers caught in the 40mm blast waves off the medicae and stalks angrily towards the clearing as well. Hale joins these two and they lay down beamer, stinger, spear, and sword.
Davis double-checks the headcount to make sure that all the Turai they know about are out there, then gets back on the radio. "Captain Verrill, I need some volunteers for policing the Turai's weapons and medic duty. Anyone up for walking into the killzone?"
Angel moves slightly in the ditch as he shifts from keeping the wounded Semo out of trouble to watching the clearing, and the team advancing in it. He idly centers his sights over one of the surviving Turai.
"Copy," Arketta says. She positions herself in the trees between the clearing and where Luis is checking Semo. As for the big guy, he'll be up (but short-winded and sore) in a few minutes, then fine in a few hours. Luis' kauka stops the bleeding but enough bone and muscle was blown out from his chest that it'll take some time to regenerate.
Zaef and Cowboy flank Hugh as he enters the clearing. Davis trots out from the northwest side and joins up as they approach the camp. The smell of burning... something from the manta wreckage is acrid and sharp; it mixes with the metallic scent of blood from the wounded and dead (mostly the dead) Turai. Contrary to Angel's mental challenge, the three standing Turai do not try anything besides "stand in one spot and hope surrendering doesn't get them killed". It looks like the woman's stabilized the Turai Kang shot, and it looks like she's one of the refugees from the orbital judging from her clothing. The other medicae's one of the research staff; he's helping a fragment-peppered Imperial painfully to his feet and hobbling him over to stand with the others.
"I know you," Rav-Turai Hale says to Hugh. "The Herald of Fire. And you..." he adds to Zaef. "I've seen you somewhere..."
"Bloodwraith Utari," interjects the less-wounded of the surviving Turai. "Arena."
Hale nods in recognition. "And you're Mr. Davis, the Smiling Beast or some such nonsense. I suppose I should be honored, but you'll have to settle for 'currently lacking the manpower necessary to kill you'."
Zaef grunts. "Gotta love the ravilars. Only job in the Imperium that encourages creative thought. Pity it's not used for anything except name-calling."
"That's one less introduction, then," Hugh says. "We're going to search your camp now. Are we going to run into any...surprises?" He leans closer. "Because I hate surprises."
Hale reaches slowly for his helmet and removes it with a faint hiss. He's bald - not shaved, but bald - with a hawkish nose and what Hugh would guess is a few days of stubble. He immediately beads with sweat as the humid Whiirr air hits him. "Fifteen refugees came on that manta," he replies to Hugh's question. "Eight sleep in the dome's maintenance bay. Four of them room in building 3, with the Keepers. Two died in the manta. One's Turai, she's in building 1 or the dome. They barely escaped a Sheen massacre with their lives, and now their last hope for safety has been taken over by the greatest evil the Imperium has ever known since, if you believe the ravilars. I guess I'm saying yes, you might run into surprises but it won't be from my people."
"Appreciate the honesty, Rav-Turai. I imagine you and Davis got things to talk about now." He turns to Cowboy and Zaef. "Alright, name of the game is clearing those buildings. This many civilians, we're gonna knock first so they don't get too jumpy. Not gonna lie to you, folks, chances are good it's a couple beamers going off when we open doors. Keep away from the doorframes when we open - anyone gives us lip, flash and come in quick. No shooting if we can swing it. Everybody got the word?"
Luis does what he can for Semo, and makes a note to track down some food and water for him--he remembers what the kauka's regeneration takes out of you. Once he's done what he can with the frisbee, he does his best to make sure the big soldier will be comfortable and stay safe, then heads over to offer his aid to the Imperium medics.
"Don't shoot! I'm trying to help him!" the young refugee-medicae shouts at Luis when he approaches the wounded Turai still lying in the grass. The woman's charge isn't bleeding anymore, but Kang's shot was dead center, a clean hit through... probably a lung.
Luis stops, moves his hands away from his slung XM10 and holds the kauka out. "I'd like to, too. I'm the medic. Would you like help?
The woman looks down at the Turai, who's conscious enough to nod. "All right, his lungs are burnt and there's... ablative fragments in the wound. I've stopped the bleeding but... just..." Luis can tell she has medical training but is likely not used to seeing the victim alongside the people who put them there.
Luis carefully steps closer, trying not be imposing. He holds the kauka out and asks, "Do you want any help?" She nods and backs off so Luis can kneel over the Turai.
Luis acknowledges her with a nod, "Let me see what I can do." He takes a look for himself. The woman's not wrong, and Luis has seen worse. A few minutes ago, on Semo, actually. He runs the kauka over the Turai and the man's labored breathing returns to normal. There's a moment where it could go either way - Luis has the kauka in his hands, the Turai isn't restrained and his sword and beamer are within easy reach. Luis takes a breath, but keeps working, and lets it out in a sigh when the Imperial decides against it and slowly tries to get up. He wavers but walks under his own power to his comrades.
"Thank you?" the medicae wonders, confused about what to say. She sits down in the grass and starts to repack her medkit.
Luis follows the Turai over to Hugh and the others. Since he's already proven he's here to heal them, the Turai wounded by Cowboy's grenade doesn't put up a fight, although he seems surlier than any of them.
---
Angel is covering the female medicae as she finishes repacking her medkit. She gets to her feet and Angel spots the glint of a stinger just before it's obscured by her tunic. He glances at the Turai Luis tended and sure enough, his sidearm's gone. Dropped it when he was hit, taken from him when the woman got to him, or passed it to her deliberately... probably doesn't matter how exactly it ended up in her belt.
Davis walks up as Hugh, Cowboy and Zaef stalk off to clear the buildings. "Good to finally meet you face-to-face, Rav-Turai Hale."
"Good for one of us, maybe," Hale replies.
Davis nods. "Fair enough," he says, then puts his vox on open mic. "Well, so far, I've been making all the demands here, and I think it's fair that before I start asking you questions, you get to ask some of your own. Samal Varna, Rav-Turai Hale, what can I answer for you?"
"What do you want with us?" Hale asks. He looks around at his men. The shaman and wherren have recovered their SCARs in the meantime, which makes for a potent argument against any kind of kneejerk mutiny, even though the Turai are still unbound and armored.
"With you and your men? Nothing. I want to get you and your men off of this planet safely, and that's all. I don't know what the ravilars are saying we do to prisoners, but I want to make it clear that you will be treated well and protected," Davis says. "Just sit tight, don't cause trouble, and everyone will be all right."
*How do you intend to remove us from Whiirr?* Varna calls over the vox. Hale seems a little relieved that someone above his pay grade is talking now.
"We have reinforcements coming in with our ride out of here, and you'll be coming with us," Davis says. "After that, we'll work on figuring out where you go next, whether or not you'll be staying on Narsai or if we can safely return you to an Imperial world. Safely for us, and safely for you."
Varna harumphs, which prompts a string of hacks. *All right, I'll bite. What kind of ride?*
"A gateway maker," Davis says. "But you already figured that out, didn't you. Just wanted to see if I would tell the truth?"
*Honestly, I hadn't had that much time to think about it. Now that I have, what do you want with Whiirr?*
"We're here to help the Wherren gain their freedom from Imperial control," Davis says. "The master-slave relationship that the Imperium has with them doesn't sit too well with us, so we're here to give them the technology and knowledge the Imperium has denied them, let them start making decisions for themselves. The Wherren get their freedom, and we get to show the Imperium that we're not here to glass your planets."
Davis can hear the sneer in Varna's voice. *A noble goal, but-*
"What you're talking about is uplift!" Hale interrupts angrily. "Planetary uplift, and they are not ready for it!"
"The Imperium has already started the process, giving them weapons and tech in trade for slaves, forcing this 'religion' on them as a cover for their activities," Davis says. "They were not ready for what the Imperium has done to them, but that did not stop them. We are doing what should have been done instead of turning them into a slave species, giving them the freedom and knowledge that the Imperium has denied them." Davis nods to Hale. "They face two futures, one living as slaves to the Imperium in their old ways, or an uncertain future as true members of the galaxy. I know what the Wherren I have met want, here and elsewhere, what the slaves you have taken want, and we're here to help them get it."
*Rav-Turai, stop talking,* Varna interjects. *You will have plenty of time to debate this later, I'm sure.*
Davis looks at Hale. "Yes, we will." He pauses. "So, any other questions?"
There is a pregnant pause where Davis almost figures they're done, but Varna replies, *What will be done with us while the Gateway builds?*
"We'll confiscate any potential weapons, tools, voxes or communication tech and shield those with implants, and you'll be under guard. The Gateway shouldn't take too long to build, but during that time, it's everyone's job to make sure that everything's calm and relaxed around here, with as little drama as possible," Davis says. "I think that's in everyone's best interest, yes?"
Another pause. *Um. Yes,* Varna says distractedly. *I already used the camp intercom to instruct the personnel not to fire upon your people.*
"Thank you, Samal Varna. So, first, where are you?" Davis asks. "You sound injured, and we'll be more than happy to provide medical attention."
*I'm in the dome,* he replies. *I'll come out, I'm just sick, not crippled.*
"If you could get the others in the dome to come out with you, that would make things much easier and safer for everyone," Davis says. "They'll likely follow your lead if you tell them that we are not here to hurt them."
Davis and the Imperials' conversation fades into the background as the trio of Deltas cross around the dome and approach the barracks-hab. There are no surprises either on the way to or upon reaching the half-cylindrical building. Its quickset walls feel like styrofoam from the outside, and the whirr of overtasked environmental systems finish the job of drowning out the conversation that distance alone could not. Its shutters are, well, shut - probably closed up as soon as the shooting started. Like a quonset hut, there are identical front and rear hatches, just stock doors tough enough to withstand a determined animal but not a breaching charge or sustained effort. Well, they'd be identical, but the door facing away from the north treeline has been left open. The lights are off inside.
"Got it," Hugh radios back. "Thanks for the heads-up."
"There's always one," he mutters to himself as he sets intercept course, not bothering to update his orders for Zaef and Cowboy. He spots the medic and moves to intercept, ending up in her way.
"I have reason to believe you're armed," Hugh says in Imperial. "No sudden moves or my men will take you down. Now, you can either give me the gun or I can have you against the wall getting a patdown for it. Your choice."
The woman gives Hugh a quizzical look at first, as if to say, Who me? I could not possibly be concealing a weapon, I am fully cooperating and would never dream of spraying as many of you as I could once your guard's down a little bit. That look doesn't survive Hugh's raised eyebrow, however, and the medicae reluctantly picks the stinger out of her tunic and drops it in the grass.
"Good call," Hugh says. "There's wounded people who need you. The people who are still standing just want to survive this, same as you. I suggest you keep your head down and help where you can."
He moves to pick up the Stinger.
"Good eyes, Angel," he radios. "Stanhill, if you're done with the Sarge, I got somebody here you could use for triage."
Seeing the commotion, Davis looks over to the Shaman and the initiates. "Shaman, if you could have your wherren collect their weapons and place them in a pile away from the Imperials?"
He clicks back over to his radio. "Captain Verrill, we're gonna need more people out here to search the prisoners when the come out, and start getting the Turai out of their armor," Davis says in English. "Maybe it's time to have the rest of our people come out and start with the pat-downs and sitting them down away from the camp?"
"Alright," he radios back. "Angel, I want you to stay on overwatch until we have the place cleared. Kang, you're watching Semo. Arketta, you can move in with Swims and start disarming the prisoners."
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