The following story is a one-shot companion piece to my fanfic "For the Order". Enjoy!

Ghostmane stalkers have no names. They are referred to only by their rank, a policy created to reinforce their image as a silent, anonymous legion. However, there were expectations. As his platoon scrambled up towards Haven, the gremlin now known as PY-18 Lead turned to look at one of them. His commander didn’t have a name, and had never provided one. He had no rank and wore no insignia, but no one would mistake him for a recruit. He seemed to exude authority and power, and bore a letter marked with the seal of the Crimson Order. Only PY-18 Lead’s commander, CY-18 Lead, had seen the contents, but whatever was in that letter was enough to get one of the most battle-hardened stalker platoons mobilized and sent racing towards Haven in matter of hours.

The mysterious gremlin had spoken nary a word since they left the barracks, and the few times he’d broken his silence had been to point towards a particular path or route to take. PY-18 Lead hoped he’d start talking soon, as the platoon was now only a few levels away from Haven and still had no idea what their orders were. Before he could work up the nerve to ask, a messenger from the lead squad arrived.

“There’s a group of geo knights camped up ahead, studying some of the crystals. Request permission to eliminate them?” Said the messenger. PY-18 was about to order the knights wiped out when the commander spoke.

“No. Continue.” The command was spoken softly, so that it barely reach PY-18 Lead’s ears, but the amount of authority the stranger could pack into those two words made it clear that dire consequences would follow should he be disobeyed. As the scout ran off, PY-18 Lead pushed through his reservations and spoke up.

“Sir, if I may ask, what are we doing here? That’s the third group of knights you’ve had us ignore, and we still don’t know what our orders are.” He said, hoping his fear hadn’t crept into his voice as he spoke.

The commander turned to face him, chuckling softly. “I wondered how long it would take you to ask. I suppose we’ve gotten close enough that I can tell you. Do you know the name Feron?”

“Of course I do. His raid on the Grand Arsenal will live in infamy forever.” Replied PY-18 Lead.

“Ah, yes, that raid. As devastating as it was to us, it may have hurt the knights more. They lost many of their soldiers within that complex, and for what? A few schematics that they don’t understand, and injuring one of the inner circle.” The ghost of a smile crept onto the gremlin’s face. “After that raid, some of the knights felt that the current leadership wasn’t quite suited to this world; that they were trying to use old tactics to fight a new war. Some of them decided to do something about their feelings.”

“A coup?” said PY-18 Lead, recalling the circumstances that had lead to Seerus seizing the title of Warmaster.

“Exactly. Of course, they dare not do so directly, least they risk shattering their own organization. So they decided to ‘lose’ some documents pertaining to Feron’s location and security in one of the deconstruction zones, and let us do our dirty work for them.”

“And we’re going to help them. They’ll us our actions as an excuse to escalate the war!”

“That’s what they undoubtedly intend. Unfortunately for them, one the gremlins at the scene of Feron’s death will have some documents on him, ones that reveal the plotter’s intent….and implicate several members of the Spiral Order’s current leadership in the plot. They will tear themselves apart as they seek to purge their ranks of the traitors.”

“And when they do…” said PY-18 Lead.

“We will crush them.” Said the commander. “The Knights will find their own machinations turned against them.”

As the last of the Ghostmanes slunk past the geo knights, a small thermal sensor concealed within their equipment monitored the gremlin’s passage. One of geo knights tapped a few keys on his console, sending a coded message to another knight waiting on the next level. That knight turned away from his console and saluted his commander. “Knight Desna, squad five reports the gremlins are on their way. What are your orders?”

Had PY-18 Lead been there, he would have noticed an eerie similarity between the grins of his leader and that of Desna. Like the gremlin, her smile was cold, the eye above it showing less warmth than an alpha frostfur. Desna hefted an Acheron and activated her comlink. “All Rangers, this is Ranger Lead. Indigo Delta. Ranger Lead out.” Throughout the level, Recon Rangers sprouted grins that matched their commanders, a single thought echoing through their minds: They took the bait.

As The Rangers checked their gear and unsheathed their weapons, an elevator at the far end of the level shuddered to a halt. PY-18 Lead examined his new surroundings and gulped. He’d always hated graveyards, but at least the gloom would help his men move unnoticed. His commander was evidential thinking the same thing. “At least we’ll make up some time moving through here.”

PY-18 Lead barely noticed the remark. He’d been busily ordering his men to keep a sharp eye out for patrolling knights. The armored clad invaders kept a close eye on graveyards, to ensure those resting within stayed within, and being exposed by the knights when only a few levels beneath their HQ could spell doom for the Ghostmanes. As the gremlins flowed out of the elevator, none of them noticed the small sensor pointed toward the lift, nor the insignia of the Recon Rangers stamped onto its casing.

A few minutes into the trip, PY-18 realized something. He’d seen no sign of the undead that normally roamed the graveyards, not even the phantoms that stalked those bold enough to traverse the area. While at first he was relieved to not be facing the shadowy power of the undead, it didn’t take him long to realize that there should have been at least a few of the abominations running around. However, by the time he realized that, it was too late.

One of the Ghostmanes, turned to follow a flick of motion in the corner of his eye, and got a glimpse of a yellow and white coat. Terror shot through him as he realized what, or rather who, was lurking in the graveyard with him. “Rangers!” He screamed. “There are Rangers up here!” As if the words were a signal, the graveyard exploded into motion as a dozen Recon Rangers exploded out of the shadow, skull-like helmets and gleaming weapons striking fear into the surrounded Gremlins.

The silence of the graveyard was shattered as gunshots rang out, the quiet peace disturbed by the sound of clashing blades. Shadow drivers spat ricocheting bullets into the crowd, while other knights sent Sentenza rounds towards the gremlins. Still more knights charged into melee, the purple glow of their Acherons reflecting off their bone white helmets. As concealed dark matter bombs sent shrapnel flying through the gremlin ranks, PY-18 Lead realized just how thoroughly they’d been fooled.

The knights didn’t have it all their way, and several of their number fell to the ground with a jagged saw blade jutting out of them. Several found themselves isolated and surrounded by the Ghostmanes, and were torn apart in short order. But the overall tide of the battle continued to turn in the Ranger’s favor, the power of their shadow weapons and surprise of their attack keeping the gremlins on the defense. Hurled saw blades deflected off shields, cloaked gremlins were spotted by keen eyed Ranger sergeants and hunted down, and several stalkers found themselves kicked into and impaled upon the spikes protruding from the bodies of the few rangers they’d managed to bring down. A fireball barrage from the few Rangers in possession of a battle sprite shattered the gremlin’s formation, turned what had been an organized defense into a swirling mass of individual melees.

PY-18 Lead ran from fight to fight, trying to restore order. His men were being cut down in droves, and fighting the knights on their own terms was only making things worse. If I can get the formation rebuilt, maybe we can hold them off and pull back, he thought. His attempt to regain the initiative was brought to a screeching halt when a Ranger slammed into him. Sizing up his opponent, PY-18 Lead saw the eye patch, and realized he’d been tackled by the commander of the Recon Rangers herself. Desna and PY-18 circled one another, looking for a weakness. PY-18 Lead spotted an opening and leapt forward, hoping to bring down the Ranger and wring some kind of victory out of this mess.

As a barrage of quills punched into him, he realized he’d been outfoxed once again. Staggering from the impact, Desna shattered several of the quills, and PY-18 nearly blacked out from the pain. Not like this, not like this, he thought. He activated his cloak and ran, only to realize the quills stuck inside him were still visible. A Sentenza round brought to his knees, and Desna easily blocked his feebly thrown saw blade. The last thing PY-18 Lead heard was the sound of a gunshot.

As the few remaining Ghostmanes were hunted down, Desna marched toward the one survivor of the ambush. The gremlin commander saluted, then flipped his hood back and pried off his mask, revealing his true face.

“Excellent work, Agent Valdek.” Said Densa, returning the salute.

The “gremlin” reached into his cloak, pulling out a few papers. “Thank you, Sir.” He said as he passed the papers over to Desna. “I apologize for the irregular meeting, but some of this couldn’t wait.”

“Care to explain?” Asked Desna.

“I’ve been able to positively ID several members of the conspiracy, but that’s not the main thing. You’ve heard about the events in Ironclaw Munitions Factory?”

“I was present when Knight Kentis and Knight Adric gave their report. Get to the point, agent.”

“Sir, the intel boys screwed up. Project R wasn’t the Romulus Twins. It was the Romulus Trio.” Every knight in the clearing gulped as they heard that.

“There’s another R-type gun puppy loose in the clockworks?”

“Yes ma’am. The gremlins managed to get one of them out of the factory while Squad Citadel were dealing with the other two. The gremlins have it hidden somewhere for now, but they’re still planning to use it against Haven. They’re keeping the location under wraps, so all I know is that it’s somewhere in strut 286.”

“And strut 286 is where?” Asked Desna.

“I don’t know. Each faction of the order has their own map system, and Seerus lost control of the R-type after the IMF raid.”

“I see.” Said Desna. She tapped her fingers against the face of her shield as she mulled the problem over. “I’ll inform HQ of this new development. If you find anything else of note, send it via the usual channels, right now you’re in a position too valuable to risk blowing your cover.”

“Yes sir.” Said the spy. Valdek flipped his hood back into position and walked away, vanishing into the gloom. As the Rangers collected their dead and retrieved the equipment from the fallen stalkers, Desna marched toward the lift, comlink in hand. “Tell Kora and Squad Morcia to meet me at HQ. We have a situation.”

As she walked away, one of the Rangers turned to a comrade. “Did Quince make it?” He asked.
“Nope.”

The first knight swore. Reaching into one of the pouches strapped to his armor, he counted a few crowns and tossed them over. “You are the worst. Didn’t you win the pool last week too?”

“Yep. And I called dibs on his stuff.”

The first knight swore again. “Ok, now that’s wrong. You got the last rookie’s gear too!”

As the argument continued, the Rangers finished their duties and marched back towards Haven. In the graveyard behind them, they left noting but the fallen gremlins and a stone marker. Its surface was blank, save for a carving of the Ranger insignia on one side. The Ranger’s didn’t need to have anything else to get their message across. We are the Recon Rangers, and this is what we do.