Trinity - Fiction - Machinations

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IN RETROSPECT...

This was a story to introduce the pirate leader known as Karl MacArthur. Looking back, it's quite over-the-top but I think it worked very well for a character who is an utter villain in all respects.

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In another prologue story for Trinity, Magic takes us into the dark world and lifestyle of the sinister Karl MacArthur, leader of a pirate militia, as he prepares to hire his latest ‘associate’...


He held the vial aloft, studying the room’s light shining on it. The octal shape glimmered, yet the dark liquid within did not.

The figure sat at a desk in some sort of regal, well-presented quarters. The room was dim and not at all lit aside a small, green lamp at the desk.

Ah...beloved Zyme...Where would I be without you?

He spun sideways in his chair, facing the rooms large window-porthole, and moved the small glass vial-device to his neck. Staring out at the twinkling stars, he pressed the red button, the sharp needle thudding in as he injected the substance in seconds, and as he reeled back, his eyes shut and his mouth was wide open in sheer pleasure.

Ahhhhh...paradise...Nirvana...Like ... best alcoholic nourishment...multiplied by one million...

His eyes squinted open slightly, a small fraction of the stars now vaguely visible to him.

...even then, still nowhere f*cking close.

Moments passed. He couldn’t make out whether ten seconds or ten minutes had past as the effects wore off. He lowered his head and turned back around to his desktop, noticing the Datacube report was still there.

Wha-What was that report? ...Ah, yes, about the Dominion’s forces on this miserable ice cube.

He picked up his silver pistol. It shimmered in the light as he toyed around with it.

Quality make. Quality design. Elegant. Efficient. Lethal. I love it.

A figure entered into the room through the door. It was a strict looking Sergeant, with thick, black hair, a handlebar moustache and a rough, toned face, dressed in the standard grey attire all personnel in the group wore. Though they were pirates, they still had some rules and regulations to follow. The figure walked to the front of the desk as MacArthur concentrated on his pistol, staring at it with delight.

‘Captain, our assault forces have finally returned from the station.’

MacArthur looked up.

‘Do we know exactly what happened?’ MacArthur barked instantly, staring solidly at the Sergeant.

The Sergeant glanced at the empty Zyme vial for one second and back at his leader. The dark drug caused bouts of extreme paranoia, he knew, and was extremely addictive. Now was not a good time to be on his Captain’s bad side. Not at all.

‘The assault failed. Eighty eight percent loses. The Commanding officer cancelled the use of surprise and gave the Dominion a chance to organise themselve-’

‘That officer is as incompetent as he is stupid! I want to see him...NOW!’ the seated captain demanded.

The Sergeant spun around instantly, as if he had already expected to be told just what MacArthur had said, and marched out of the door. A moment passed. MacArthur spun his pistol’s trigger around his thumb. Round and round. The sergeant returned with several other figures. There was one miserable looking man flanked by two fully armoured guards carrying gauss rifles. The central one looked similar to the sergeant, but without the moustache and with blond hair. His uniform was blooded and torn in parts and his arm was in a bloody sling. He stood nervously, teetering slightly from side to side, in front of the desk.

I hate people who waste my forces. And time for that matter.

He looked around for a moment, wondering if he should speak or not, and eventually spoke with a considerable murmur.

‘...S-s-sir, the Dominion forces took us by surprise- th-th-their firepower was substantial. F-Few of us survived. I was nearly killed trying to esc-c-c-cape...’

MacArthur, clearly sick of the pitiful speech, spun the revolver into his hand as if he were still playing with it and, staring at the reflecting light of the pistols bullet chamber and at nothing else, spoke to the blooded soldier, interrupting his gasping speech.

‘You needn’t have bothered.’

The guard slumped to the floor, a red hole instantly etched on his forehead amidst his petrified shocked face.

Two seconds passed. MacArthur spoke afresh, as if the conversation had gone without the past gunfire.

‘Congratulations, sergeant. You have the latest promotion to officer in our little group.’

He smiled, knowing new opportunity lay before him.

‘Are you ready to accept this new role?’

‘Absolutely, my captain.’ He replied quickly.

I like this fellow more anyway. Very enthusiastic. And looks more sinister. Like me.

‘Your first job as officer is to get rid of this vile corpse from my office. I don’t know how crap like this gets in here.’

‘At once, Captain.’

The former Sergeant motioned to the two troopers at the door. They holstered their rifles onto their backs, marched to the body, picked it up and took it out of the room.

‘Secondly, I want you to mobilise our forces at once. The Dominions forces at that station aren’t stupid. Even now, they’ll be starting scout patrols. Take us to the other side of the worlds, adjust our orbit so were beyond scanning range. We should be able to find a new spot to land on the planet for our little...‘recon’ mission.’ Ordered MacArthur, still looking at his pistol, a small, final drift of smoke present.

‘Understood, sir.’

As he marched to the door, another officer entered. This one was taller with a hairless head, complete with a goatee. MacArthur glanced up, putting his pistol back on his desk, and recognised the person as Sergeant Deckard as he approached.

‘What is it?’ MacArthur asked.

‘Sir, the mercenaries have arrived and docked aboard the Rogue’s hangar. Their Commander is ready to see you now.’

‘Excellent. Send him in here. Have his men accommodated and briefed on the planet for the time being. And have my private Dropship readied for departure. We shall be performing our recon mission quite soon.’
Deckard left as quickly as he had entered.

MacArthur looked down at his pistol for a moment.

So many memories within that pistol. Why, it was Schezar himself that gave me it. That mission...on Aiur, against the infernal Protoss...yes. Before we withdrew, a small contingent got through our defences and were nearly able to kill him. But I stood firm, rallied the dozen soldiers around me and I lead the charge on the thin freaks. Schezar was saved and we escaped. This pistol came from that. Memories.

He spun his chair round slightly and glanced out at the stars once more.

That was quite a long time ago. When Schezar was lost, I took control. I lead us. I brought us revered success! I accomplished!

The door snapped open, breaking MacArthur in his thoughts, as a figure entered. A well built man with brown hair- a ponytail and a beard specifically. It suited him. Then MacArthur saw his eyes. Very piercing ones.

He looks just like all that I have heard about him. He should be the one I seek. I need a veteran to assist me in my conquest here.

‘So...we meet at last, Commander Walker.’ MacArthur spoke as he stood up and greeted the Commander.

‘Face-to-face, Captain MacArthur.’ Replied the man as he neared the desk.

‘Have a seat.’

He did so.

‘How was your trip?’

‘The usual. Rough. Discreet.’

Small sentences. I wonder if he’s hiding something.

‘I expected so. The Dominion is hardly ...foreboding to ones from our...’profession’.’ Spoke MacArthur as he slyly smiled. There was no immediate reaction.

‘Well, let us get down to business. You’ve read what I need you and your men for. What is your experience? I’ve heard many rumours about you...’

‘I’ve killed approximately one hundred and thirty eight people at last count.’

‘Approximately?’ MacArthur asked, curious.

‘Assisted kills. Near kills. Multiple kills. They still die, but it’s just questionable how, technically.’

‘Most interesting...so...tell me... what of your background?’

His face changed. Not of displease, but more of further caution.

‘My background?’ he queried.

‘Where did you come from? What do you want? Every man asks himself this, yes?’

‘I may ask myself, but I do not tell people. My history is best left unknown. I refuse to answer.’
MacArthur looked down at his desk, caught in thought.

He’s not scared of me. That was very firm language. He didn’t need to be like that as part of the conversation - he did it to show me what he thinks. Certainly admirable, but this means I couldn’t use him to my own ends completely, as I had hoped. Hmm.

There was a pause as both of the figures expected the other to speak.

‘I started as an assassin. I’ve killed the majority of my toll in that profession. I worked as a freelance mercenary as well. I’ve killed politicians, merchants, rebel leaders...all without a single shred of mercy. That quaintly summarises me, I believe.’

Quaintly indeed!

MacArthur looked back up, seeing Walker still looking at him, unchanged. Those eyes were like ice. Frozen and cold.

Cold. Elegant. I like that. He’s trying to impress me. He’s just said how reluctant he is to tell me his past, yet he’s just went and told me a fair deal a moment later. I think he’s a little desperate for this assignment. Good.

‘Yet despite the lack of mercy, there is emotion involved. Killing is an artform. Precision is absolute. Too many ...numbskulls out there do not think of it as a privilege. They are unworthy of its beauty.’

‘I could not agree more. And you appear to have gained your nickname correctly, eh?’

‘Reaper. I was called that by various employees due to my...fashion. Doesn’t bother me.’

He doesn’t really care for reputation. This Walker just likes to get the job done. Dedicated, I believe.

‘I believe it is now my turn to ask a question, Captain.’ Reaper asked.

‘Go ahead.’ He replied.

Let’s give him the opportunity for to be inquisitive. Let me show him I will respect him. This is not polite - it’s strategic.

‘What is your objective here?’

A curious one...yet a calculating one just at the same time as well. I like that.

‘Oh, you will see shortly. We are about to depart for a ‘reconnaissance’ mission upon the world. I’d like you to join me.’

‘Very well.’

His curiosity has been quelled for now. It will be interesting to see what happens. Hmm. But what of payment? Maybe I should wait until he’s been briefed properly and seen a glimpse of what we are dealing with.

MacArthur continued. ‘We will discuss things in more detail on the surface. It’s so much better to explain things on the field...’

Walker remained quiet.

Hmm. He doesn’t say things unnecessarily, that’s for sure. Efficient...if not so sociable.

MacArthur had just thought of something to say when a quiet beeping sound irrupted from a set on his desktop. He flicked a switch and a voice spoke.

‘Captain.’ The young voice stated. ‘The Dropship is prepared for launch.’

‘Good. We shall be there shortly. Have my guard and Jenkins ready to meet us there.’

He lifted his hand from the desk.

‘If you would like to come with me, I will take you for your ‘briefing’, ‘Reaper’.’ MacArthur asked, quoting the new found nickname of the mercenary.

‘Very well, ‘Butcher’.’ Walker replied as they both stood up and headed to the rooms door.

That says a very lot. I must not show my reaction to this. That nickname is not widely known. Few people know of that massacre on that space station over Korhal. I’m starting to like the way this mercenary works and thinks. He’s my kind of scum.

They silently travelled down a corridor, into a lift, where MacArthur pressed a button on the panel and it went down two levels. Before them was a squad of four armoured troopers, standing at the top of the stairs of the large hangar. There were two wraiths and two dropships present, all looking like they were ready for travel.

‘These are my personal guard. And this is my aide, Jenkins.’ MacArthur told Walker, as the group followed them from behind as they descended the small flight of stairs. MacArthur walked side-by-side with Walker, both flanked by four of MacArthur’s guards and a simple looking, plain clothed servant.

‘Oh, and your vehicle has been stored aboard the craft for you.’ MacArthur informed Walker, who replied quite quickly.

‘Good. I feel at home in it.’

That nice thought for him should make him start to trust me already. This is getting better and better. With his forces, we shall stand quite substantial. Substantial enough to do just what I plan to do.

The group walked across the hangar bay and went up the ramp and into the ship. The interior was surprisingly quite regal inside with various purple and red decorations, like MacArthur’s room, and they seated themselves in rows. It seemed like more like a space liner than the rough troop transport it was. The two pilots at the front were busy preparing for lift off.

The ship ignited its engines, humming thunderously, and accelerated. The blast doors quickly opening as the dropship moved steadily forward, exiting the hangar and heading down.

Downward to Polaris.

Another began starting up, joining the small excursion as well.

‘We’ll see just how good these Zerg are.’ MacArthur said to Walker, sat beside him, as they both looked forward at the sea of stars and the thick white and blue globe below, growing larger and larger as they began their descent.

The Zerg. The next on my list of things to manipulate. Certainly a bigger target, but still viable. I am good.

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