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 was 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 competing to be the one voice above all the 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 an 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. In another portion of the crowd, a group of loudly dressed overly made-up women and girls waved to anyone who would wave back. The happy women, as they were called, lived up to their reputation and did their best to make the arriving men happy.

Vahlds company were already off the boat. They walked in formation and muscled through the crowd to get off the boat first. Ronces face was a mask of stone. Vahld looked to his direction and signaled Ronce with his head to follow him. The accompanying members of the Rylexan Command were dressed inconspicuously for most part. They were wearing what could be considered Rylexan business

attire. Only those who knew would notice that they had matching fob watches, which made them look rather dignified or snobbish.

The Rylexans maintained a casual walk, not wanting to draw attention by looking too regimented. They maintained a tight formation however in case they needed to respond quickly and in case the prisoner would try something.

They reached the entrance of the pier and Vahld met with an officially dressed squad of Rylexan Soldiers, the Foreign Contingent as their battered shield pin would identify. Ronce looked up disinterestedly, another transfer didnt matter, one set of guards was as good or as bad as the next. 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 to 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 of your prisoner and Captain Wilgar Ronce, he said with his nasal Tubalon accent.

By the book eh Lieutenant? remarked Vahld smirking back to his unit and nodded to signal the transfer of the captain. Hes all yours, a smile briefly came and went Vahlds face, this 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.

Thank you, Sir, Agilon said after a pause slightly annoyed at being quoted regulations. This way please.

Ronce was escorted by five soldiers, closely following Lieutenant Agilon. They passed by the personnel transport vehicle. It was painted according to 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. It bore the Rylexan Insignia by the front doors of the vehicle, it was the sword-pen. 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. The Foreign Contingents Insignia, however, was made different. The jewel of the swords pommel was replaced with a battered shield, referring to their being the first line of defense for Rylex.

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. 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 rather than the norm.

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? 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 with a sudden flash of realization and then hung his head in disappointment. I understand, they used the trial as an excuse to ship me out.

Agilon frowned at the word hated when 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. It is our chance to become Rylexan.

Rylexan huh. Why? Ronce looked up and said in a voice laced with contempt and sarcasm. Whats so special about being Rylexan?

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 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 we die so they dont have to. We are expendable. That last statement came with a slow emphasis for each word. But you see this is 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.

Perhaps we are, Sir, 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 well Agilon let his voice trail off not wanting to finish the thought of that sentence.

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. 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, 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.

What Im made of huh? 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. Our commanders have always been one of us from grunt to officer. Your assignment is just not done. So yes, Sir, they will test you, because as you said Captain, youre not one of us.

The rest of the trip was quiet. The guards said nothing that whole time, 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 smirk, Lets see. The Lieutenant said under his breath.

He walked steadily towards the tavern in the officers walk that he is accustomed to using when meeting 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 reassignment may 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 for you and Im your Master Maker hooooooooo-!

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 happy girl or two on their laps. Wil, bellowed, Phalanx 34. Ten hut!

An abrupt silence took over the tavern. Some looked up but everyone went back to their drink and the buzzing resumed. No responded to his command, of course. 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 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.

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 either smart or stupid enough to block the 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. 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 was 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 with one knee, and shoved the man's face forcefully hitting the back of his head on the floor. He then straddled 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.

Ronce got up and stalked the man he just threw. The mob came to a halt. 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 swinging doors swung in and out and finally stopping shut behind Ronce leaving to their imaginations what the new Captain would do to their leader. No one was sure what to do next. Some 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 himself, then 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.