Somewhere in Central Keron
The door burst open behind them. "They've only gone and fucking done it!"
"I'm presuming you mean the Veszcotans," Tahwur muttered without looking around; it wasn't a question.
The young miner that had been amongst the first three Ostomrei had contacted, stumbled to a halt. His face was beet-red, lips pressed to a thin white line. Faced with the two Quera's blank looks, Ot-ham's expression collapsed in on itself. "What do we do now?"
"Fucked if I know." Ti-fo was staring at the table he sat before, a stolen bottle of beer in one of his heart-sized hands resting atop its surface. His other hand rubbed at the thick stubble on his cheek.
Ot-ham blinked from the Harndonians to his older comrade, and back again. "This can't be it, surely," he whispered. "It can't all be for nothing."
Ostomrei forced herself to look into the lad's eyes; the scar he had recieved in liberating the first - their own - camp had settled into a livid welt that spread from his forehead down across the bridge of his nose. "Your movement already controls a good part of the country, especially the rural and isolated industrial settlements. You still have the momentum. It is unclear whether the Veszcotans have their sights set on the uprising - our guess is that their first target is the government and armed forces. Though, of course, they may also decide to attack the movement in order to wrest the initiative. If - or when - they deal with the government, they will then focus all their efforts on quelling any resistance, regardless of its source."
"And that means us," coughed Ti-fo.
"So... what do we do?" Any of the anger that had been in Ot-ham's face had fallen away. Now, he just looked tired.
"I and a few of the others spoke to some of the other workers and forces around the country." Ti-fo shifted in his seat and nodded to the encrypted communication device laying flat on the tabletop. "They're split between fighting the Veszcotans alongside the government, fighting the government alongside the Veszcotans, or fighting both at the same time."
The expression of last of the three initial contacts - Bo-ki - darkened from where it was partially shrouded by the shadow of the crook he was perched in. Ostomrei hadn't heard him say a word since the first night they met.
"What did you say?" Ot-ham pulled out a chair from beneath the table the two Quera and Ti-fo were sitting at, and flung himself down into it.
"Nothing." Ti-fo frowned momentarily, and sighed. "I just listened. I wanted to wait to talk to everyone about it before we made any rash decisions. The others are doing the same."
"When?"
"Once I've finished this drink." He threw his head back, and drained the last drops from the bottle. He slammed it back down onto the table, making Bo-ki flinch. "Right." Ti-fo stood, his legs pushing the chair back so that it scraped against the floor. He nodded towards Ot-ham. "Now."
The door burst open behind them. "They've only gone and fucking done it!"
"I'm presuming you mean the Veszcotans," Tahwur muttered without looking around; it wasn't a question.
The young miner that had been amongst the first three Ostomrei had contacted, stumbled to a halt. His face was beet-red, lips pressed to a thin white line. Faced with the two Quera's blank looks, Ot-ham's expression collapsed in on itself. "What do we do now?"
"Fucked if I know." Ti-fo was staring at the table he sat before, a stolen bottle of beer in one of his heart-sized hands resting atop its surface. His other hand rubbed at the thick stubble on his cheek.
Ot-ham blinked from the Harndonians to his older comrade, and back again. "This can't be it, surely," he whispered. "It can't all be for nothing."
Ostomrei forced herself to look into the lad's eyes; the scar he had recieved in liberating the first - their own - camp had settled into a livid welt that spread from his forehead down across the bridge of his nose. "Your movement already controls a good part of the country, especially the rural and isolated industrial settlements. You still have the momentum. It is unclear whether the Veszcotans have their sights set on the uprising - our guess is that their first target is the government and armed forces. Though, of course, they may also decide to attack the movement in order to wrest the initiative. If - or when - they deal with the government, they will then focus all their efforts on quelling any resistance, regardless of its source."
"And that means us," coughed Ti-fo.
"So... what do we do?" Any of the anger that had been in Ot-ham's face had fallen away. Now, he just looked tired.
"I and a few of the others spoke to some of the other workers and forces around the country." Ti-fo shifted in his seat and nodded to the encrypted communication device laying flat on the tabletop. "They're split between fighting the Veszcotans alongside the government, fighting the government alongside the Veszcotans, or fighting both at the same time."
The expression of last of the three initial contacts - Bo-ki - darkened from where it was partially shrouded by the shadow of the crook he was perched in. Ostomrei hadn't heard him say a word since the first night they met.
"What did you say?" Ot-ham pulled out a chair from beneath the table the two Quera and Ti-fo were sitting at, and flung himself down into it.
"Nothing." Ti-fo frowned momentarily, and sighed. "I just listened. I wanted to wait to talk to everyone about it before we made any rash decisions. The others are doing the same."
"When?"
"Once I've finished this drink." He threw his head back, and drained the last drops from the bottle. He slammed it back down onto the table, making Bo-ki flinch. "Right." Ti-fo stood, his legs pushing the chair back so that it scraped against the floor. He nodded towards Ot-ham. "Now."
Harndon
Some wanker with too much time and too little energy.
