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SCL Chapter 157: Whispers from the Crossing
🕑 Added 2025-07-20 03:04:13 +0000 UTC“The Yebb Family has been completely wiped out. We even dragged back the boss and his blonde mistress together.” At that moment, Raynor push
“The Yebb Family has been completely wiped out. We even dragged back the boss and his blonde mistress together.”
At that moment, Raynor pushed open the door to the sheriff’s office.
“Also picked up a whole stash of white powder—looks addictive. Probably some kind of enhancer. Might even boost virility.”
“Want to test the goods?” Raynor strode in with firm steps, dropping the bag of drugs and a fresh wanted poster onto the desk.
“Nah. I’m betting Tychus will find a use for that.”
Augustus reached for the wanted poster.
“Have Corporal Faraday appraise it—let’s see what this haul is worth. This is a big one.” He added, “That should be the last gang boss, right?”
“Yeah, the rest have mostly scattered. Word’s out—everyone knows an iron-fisted marshal from Agria has arrived in Echo Town, backed by a whole battalion of armed officers clearing the streets with electromagnetic cannons.”
As Raynor spoke, he dragged a chair over and sat across from Augustus. Meanwhile, Tychus had already whistled a cheerful tune and strolled out, likely off to find some fun.
“I hauled back a whole lot of lowlifes—scum, through and through. The rest I just sent packing, told ’em to go home and find their mommies. I mean, come on, is the town jail even big enough to hold all those bastards?”
“The jail’s already crammed with over two hundred people. Packed to the brim. Word is, some folks’ asses in there are getting the worst of it.”
Augustus picked up the internal terminal on the desk.
“Sheriff MacAllen, send a few hover transports and ship the convicts off to the mining zone.”
“Yes, the Mont Canyon Mines. I’ve already signed an agreement with the site’s owner. We provide them with cheap labor, and in return, they pay us in unrefined Ardeon crystals.”
“I know the owners are Kel-Morian, but that’s irrelevant. The diplomatic tension between the Kel-Morian Combine and the government has nothing to do with us. I’ll take full responsibility. If anything goes wrong, let the Hinterland Region judicial officer come find me.”
“Not a bad deal,” Raynor said with a grin as Augustus hung up. “We punish the wicked, uphold the law, then toss the scum into the mines to work off their sins.”
Right now, Echo Town’s streets and alleys were plastered with police propaganda slogans for the anti-gang crackdown:
“Cash rewards for anonymous tips—Let’s build a better Mar Sara together!”
Over the past two weeks, residents frequently heard bursts of gunfire and watched uniformed officers marching like a military unit, storming through the town under the command of the ferocious Sheriff Tychus.
These days, even the most brazen thugs trembled at the sight of a police uniform. The force was so large that every street had patrols—officers riding Vulture bikes or mounted on short Mar Saran horses. Every intersection had a checkpoint for verifying Confederacy ID cards. Some fugitives were so spooked by the overwhelming presence that they turned themselves in just to avoid being hunted down.
The new marshal had cleaned out every gang and petty criminal with unprecedented force. His iron-fisted methods against lawbreakers earned public praise, especially after he publicly declared that “Federal police are the people’s servants”—a sentiment that resonated with Echo Town’s citizens.
Before long, Augustus’s Revolutionary Army, now wearing police uniforms, had effectively taken control of Echo Town.
“This is what I call squeezing out every last drop of value,” Augustus said, clasping his hands together and leaning his elbows on the desk. “As for the death row inmates—those scientists at Cerberus working on limb reconstruction and neural control will definitely be interested.”
Augustus now held full control over Cerberus Biotech, the company responsible for manufacturing future warhounds. He had relocated its top researchers to a remote star system base operated by the Kel-Morian National Guard.
“Weren’t they already experimenting on the alien creatures from Vyctor 5?”
Raynor seemed to recall something. “What exactly did the Cerberus people get from those monsters?”
“Two parallel research projects are underway—one focusing on the Zerg, the other on human applications,” Augustus said. “By studying the Zerg carapace, they’ve improved the armor plating of battlecruisers, making them far more resilient. Discoveries like these keep piling up—but we’re running low on usable Zerg specimens. The lack of live Zerg has also stalled progress on the control protocols.”
“In short, we need more Zerg samples to support Cerberus’s ongoing research,” he concluded.
“It’s almost certain the Confederacy still holds plenty of Zerg samples, maybe even live ones—locked up like wild animals.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me one bit, considering the kind of filth the Confederacy gets away with,” Raynor said with a nod.
“At least we already have solid evidence of some of the government’s crimes.”
Augustus rose, took a heavy cloak from the rack, and turned to face the map hanging on the wall.
“As long as we gather enough proof, our comrades inside the UNN headquarters will be able to use the network again to expose the Confederacy’s corruption to all of Terran space.”
“That Mike Liberty guy already has a column in the UNN Morning Bulletin. He mocks the Confederacy every damn day.”
Raynor walked around the desk to stand beside Augustus, eyes fixed on the map of Hinterland Region.
“I really admire the guy, but the way he keeps roasting those high-ranking Confederates… how’s he still breathing?”
“The Tygore and Holt families have shielded him from plenty of danger. As long as Mike doesn’t touch on the scandals of the Old Families, he’s safe.”
Augustus smoothed out a crease on the map.
“I don’t think he can resist forever…”
Raynor followed his gaze to a remote corner of the chart.
“The Perdition's Crossing…” Augustus murmured. “Lying between the Ridge Plains and the Gray Blight Wastes, with its only exit leading into the Salarje Desert. That’s about 320 kilometers from Echo Town—and even farther from our base camp. Initial surveys show the crystal deposits there could account for one-tenth of Mar Sara’s total reserves. But due to intense interference bands in the area, electronic equipment is useless.”
Raynor studied the map with a frown.
“The rumors are even weirder. People say those who travel through the Perdition's Crossing see bizarre visions—chaotic whispers, apocalyptic hallucinations. That gave rise to a whole new religion with a growing number of followers. They worship a so-called Goddess of Death and dabble in occult rituals.”
“I’m more inclined to think there’s a psionic entity behind it,” Augustus said. “Or maybe it’s just a criminal syndicate—or pirates—spreading disinformation to keep people away.”
He traced his fingers slowly over the map.
“I’ve sent two Ghost operatives into the Crossing. So far, they’ve identified at least four distinct factions operating within.”
“The Chimera Pirates have a research facility in the Crossing. They’ve kidnapped more than a dozen archaeology and xenobiology PhDs from Tarsonis University and are using them to study the strange electric pulse emissions from the rare crystal deposits.”
“The Confederate Resistance has two mobile bases there.”
“There’s also a New Trinidad pirate salvage yard on the outskirts of the Corridor.”
“And at the very center, a mining facility operated by the Kel-Morian Combine.”
“The Kel-Morians?” Raynor frowned. He was all too familiar with the Kel-Morian Combine and their methods.
If the Kel-Morian Combine had scattered research stations and flying fortresses throughout the Koprulu Sector, then any land rich in minerals was sure to attract Kel-Morians like flies to honey.
“They’re like damn potatoes buried in the dirt—you never know where one’s gonna pop up, clinging to a crystal and yelling it’s theirs.”
He snorted. “They’ve got some nerve. This is one of the Terran Confederacy’s core worlds.”
“This is illegal mining.”
“Either way, we need to take that place.”
Augustus had a strong hunch the strange phenomena in the Perdition's Crossing were caused by fragments of a Xel’Naga artifact. If he could recover the artifact, he’d not only unlock its secrets but also secure control over a crystal-rich mining zone.
“Send in the Revolutionary Army marines from the fleet,” Raynor offered. “Two ranger battalions and a few Arclite tanks are all we need to wipe out the pirates and Kel-Morians in the Crossing.”
“No,” Augustus said firmly. “The orbital satellites over Mar Sara can easily spot any troop movements across the plains.”
He’d already worked out the operation in detail.
“We’ll break the battalion down into squad-sized units. They’ll enter the Crossing in staggered deployments over the course of a week, regrouping at pre-designated rally points to set up base camps.”
He marked the map with a felt-tip pen.
“Then I’ll move in with the disguised police units and link up with them.”
“We’ll proceed step by step—establishing multiple forward outposts and supply stations throughout the Crossing. From there, we’ll eliminate or expel the entrenched forces one by one.”
“After that, we’ll probably need to bring in some archaeologists and specialized teams to help unravel the mystery of the Perdition's Crossing.”
“Got anyone in mind?” Raynor asked, then shook his head with a crooked grin. “Forget it—if you’ve got a plan, you’ve probably thought through every last detail already.”
“We’ll recruit mainly from the Kel-Morian territories, then find a few young, ambitious archaeologists in the Confederacy—ones who’ve got fire in their bellies but no real opportunities. As long as they’re not Confederacy spies, they’ll do just fine.”
