OOC: Funny, I checked the beginning, and Eraser's character's name is Connor, not Cooper. Hummm.

Johnson was sitting in bed in the infirmary. He hated not doing anything for an extended period of time. He felt... useless. Like he's not doing enough to earn his stay on the ship. He tried to justify himself by the fact that he greatly assisted in the capture of the traitor, and that he may even have prevented the destruction of the entire ship, but he knew that was a stretch, and he still felt just as useless.

Just then Connor came in, presumably to check on his condition. He had had quite a few visits from Connor, Denson, and Harrison. He was grateful for their consideration.

Connor: Hey, Thomas.

We're on a first name basis? Whoa, Johnson thought. We must be getting friendlier by the moment.

Johnson: Hey, Connor.
Connor: Howya feelin'?
Johnson: Pretty useless.
Connor: Nah, don't feel that way.

Johnson didn't respond to that.
Johnson: I was just wondering.
Connor: Yeah?
Johnson: What's the deal with this ship? When I was coming back from planting the beacon, I checked into the local news. I saw this ship in the news report, with some big a$$ gun on the front cutting through a battleship, no less. And in that same news report, they mentioned that this ship had been sighted in the New Harlem system.
Connor: Umm,....
Johnson: I don't know what's going on, but when an old prototype Liberty Cruiser manned by people not wearing Liberty uniforms is cutting through battleships with some humongous gun in the front in some humongous battle on it's way to Italian space, (OOC: I think we should come up with a good name for this space, along the lines of Liberty, Bretonia, etc. I have no suggestions.) something is up. Mind filling me in on this?
Connor: Well, if you can figure all that out, I guess there's no reason why we should prevent you to know more. So here's the deal....

Connor filled Johnson in on all the details, including the search for Terranova, the Rheinland attack fleet, the histories of Lutz, Quigley, Arrigoni, Michael, O'Connor, as well as himself, as well as all that happened in the five battleship battle, inside and out, and their little scratch with the pirate base.

Johnson was overwhelmed.
Johnson: My God, and this is all true?
Connor: Yep.
Johnson: Man, I have been plunged in the middle of history, and I have no clue what to do.
Connor: I feel the same way.
Johnson: God,....

Sensing that his presence was no longer needed or wanted, Connor left.

Johnson: I should've gone back to Dawson after I was freed from my second imprisonment. Where life was simpler. Far simpler.

Johnson laid back on his pillow, and struggled with the interpretation of all this information, all the while confused on how he felt.

OOC: Jim, nice to see you in the fic. Here we go.

Quigley held the packet of datacards under his arm. He had one open O'Connor's.

It read.

To Captain O'Connor, Cruiser Vengence. From: Liberty Command. The future of Liberty hangs in the balance. Your associate, Matthew Quigley, has informed us of the situation. You, sir, have the resources, connections, and position to be a key in the defense of your home colony. LibCom is ready to forgive your past transgressions and offer you a letter of Marque. This letter of Marque will charge you to defend Liberty as a privateer. You will keep your ship the Vengence as well. All that is required of you is to find the fugitive Terranova and destroy the Fireblade he possess. Additionally should Liberty be invaded, you are required to lend aid.

Quigley whistled as he got the magnitude of the messages. The datacards were amnesties to all his friends. Even Lutz was forgiven and begged to help the Navy. He knew they were incredibly important, but he knew he couldn't risk sending them from West Point. Rhienland might be monitoring the message router on the station. He would wait and do it from his ship.

Flights suits always have lots of pockets for pilots to stash important charts and regular junk in. The myriad of pockets came in handy now because Quigley secreted the stack of datacards until he could send them. He walked quickly with a purpose to the Bar. Like most bars, West Point's was right above the landing bays. The Bar was hardly ever crowded because only off-duty personnel could drink. So the small booth in the corner crowded with four pilots was a dead giveaway for Tau squadron's graduates.

As Quigley approached them, he began to read their faces and boady posture. The scene was one filled with happiness and cheer mixed with saddness and guilt. That was always the nature of post-graduation celebrations for Fighter cadets at West Point. That was because before a squadron could graduate they had to do one last patrol called the Last Cruise. The Last Cruise was a deep patrol into the Badlands. Such patrols always ran into trouble and got zapped. If a patrol was lucky they would only find Rogues or the occasional Hacker. The worst one came about after a tangle with Outcasts. If Outcasts zapped a patrol, it was lucky if one or two cadets made it back and earned their commissions. Apparently, Tau squadron had been one of the lucky ones. Quigley stopped two booths away to watch the pilots for a minute.

At the back of the booth Rachel Lyta, Quigley's former wingmate, raised her glass. "We few, we lucky few, raise our glasses to each other. We survived the worst that both West Point and the Badlands could throw at us." The pilots laughed and took a swig of their drinks.

Penn, at the end of the booth, got out and stood up. He raised his glass, "As CO, I feel that you have done exeplary work in getting this far, but we must remember those who didn't make it. Those who payed the ultimate sacrfice. Olle who died in that landing crash. Ulkov slagged by a Rogue on our second patrol. Martinez, Xazier, Tall, Bohstedt, Johnson, Lucas, and Shell last night on the Last Cruise. Bow and remember." The circle of pilots bowed their heads. Rachel began to sob softly. The pilot to her left, a large, tough dark-skinned man, put his hand her shoulder. The fourth pilot, a small, scrawny pale boy, stared into his drink. Penn sat down again.

Rachel had been Quigley's wingmate and best friend, maybe more. Saddness welled up in Quigley at seeing her cry. Only military decorum kept him from running over there to comfort her. It was also military decorum that made Quigley interrupt this libation of the past and future. Quigley walked to end of the booth and stood there. The four noticed his presence and looked first at his collar to see if the rank was sufficient to prompt a reaction. On Quigley's left lapel was the single bar of the lieutenant; on the right was the double bar of the captain. The mismatched insignia signified the rank of a Brevet, or temporary, Captain.

The four pilots had differing reactions. The dark man and scrawny boy wondered what this mysterious officer had to do with them. Rachel looked up to the face above the lapels, and her face brightened, seeing her friend freed of the shame of washing-out. Penn was plain dumb-struck, wondering how Quigley the wash-out had managed to get reinstated and jump two ranks ahead of him.

"Pilots, I'm deeply sorry to interupt your ceremony." Quigley said.

See Quigley had made Rachel temporarily forget about her fallen comrades. "Captain, it is good to see you. What brings you to four lonely and sad pilots?" Rachel asked with a small smile.

"I know this is unusually soon for a squadron just graduating, but you have orders." With his words, the enitre booth perked up suddenly listening closer. "You will all be flying under my command in the newly formed Mu Flight. You all need to pack for immediate departure. Pack only what's necessary. And get a move on. Our orders were timestamped yesterday." The pilot piled out of tthe booth, rushing towards their quarters. As she passed, Rachel looked into his eyes and touched his shoulder briefly; then she was gone down the hallway.

Quigley stood there for a moment, look after Rachel. Then the urgency of the his orders blared in his mind, and he rushed off to his quarters to pack.

jedierrant

"You're clever than you look, Q" ~007
"It's better than looking clever than you are, 007."~Q

Those were indeed big guns Roger saw. They were capship turrets.
O'Connor: Theese are indeed big guns. They are capship turrets.
Segara: Yes, they are. They are Kursari goverments secret weapons, but now widley used by pirates.
O'Connor: Pirates? In a capship?
Segara: Yes, pirates have stole many capship parts and they are abl to build them too.
O'Connor: Great. All we needed...
Segara: Don't worry, pirate generators are primaly weak, because they overload it.
O'Connor: Well, thanks for the heads up, but I really must go now. I'll pack couple of guns with me.
Segara: So you haven't seen any cruisers around?
O'Connor: Nope, I heard that the one in New Harlem was jus in training exercise.
Segara: Maybe...
O'Connor: Can you do me a favor?
Segara: I think. What is it?
O'Connor: Take this package to Shao Yoraminto on New Tokyo.
Segara: I think I can do that.
O'Connor: Good, U'll get ur money for this on a guy called Logan on Manhatten.
Segara: I sure hope so... for your sake.
O'Connor: Nice meeting you too!

*Roger loaded some weapons on cargo hold and took off.*

O'Connor: This is Echo-Foxtrot 3 requesting premission to take off.
New Rome Operator: Request denied.
O'Connor: erm.. what? Why?
NRO: Rheinland ships are docking.
O'Connor: Rheinland? again?
NRO: Yes, those guys have keeped the docking ring closed almost 2 hours now.
O'Connor: How can they close a docking ring?
NRO: Ever tried manovering past a Kursari battleship while departuring the atmosphere?
O'Connor: Ooh, no. What the hell is Kursari batleship doing here?
NRO: I'm busy here. heck out the latest news.

*Roger searched for new in his ship and found out that Italian coverment has agreed Kursari and Rheinland to search for hostile pirates on Italian territory.*
O'Connor: (Thinking) Don't they have thir own pirates to be killing?

*Few hours later*

O'Connor: Can I now, please get the heel out of here?
NRO: Yes, you can go. Kursari and Rheinland ships are gone.
O'Connor: Good.

*And he flew to Alpha Draconis*

Edit: A few minor spelling problems

Edited by - White Knight on 18-08-2003 15:15:32

As Quigley's Valkyrie hurdled through the shimmering wormhole to Hudson jumpgate, he studied the intelligence the Admiral had given him. If Rheinland was operating in the Independent worlds, they were doing an incredible job of keeping it under wraps. No Navy patrols or corporate convoys had seen any evidence of Rheinland patrols. Civilians are a great source of military build-ups, but even that was denied now. Large cargo stations had been created in Stuttgart, Hamburg, and Frankfurt. All foriegn ships had to stop and sell there because they were forbidden to go insystem. Foreign companies were being expelled from their own properties in Rhienland. The only forgien ships getting into the Fatherland were Samura vessels, as a result of their arrangement.

The state of Siruis was starting to look grim. The Rhienlanders got their revenge for the Eighty-year War. GMG doesn't exist as a widespread corporation anymore. The survivors joined forces with the Blood Dragons and the GC to fight both the Kusari and Rhienland. The dissident groups inside Rhienland are an unknown. There were rumors that the survivors have combined into one group and are fighting to survive. The Liberty Rogues in Bering and Hudson are missing. The other Rogues in Texas had no idea what happened and any ships sent to investigate never returned.

Quigley sighed and rolled his eyes as he shut down those files and secured them. Here he was hurdling through a time-space distortion with one heavily-armed Valkyrie and four Defenders toward unknown quantities of Siruis's newest badasses.

"I better get the most memorable state funeral for this." Quigley muttered to himself. Quigley called up the personnel files of the four pilots he commanded.

They were ordered by seniority because all four pilots were lieutenants. First was the arrogant Lt. David Penn. Penn had been born on Los Angeles, a sign that Penn's family was well to do. That theory was confirmed by the fact that the file said that Penn's father was a moderately powerful senator. Quigley figured that daddy had swung Penn's acceptance. Daddy probably want an asset in the Navy, and David was that asset. Despite Penn's circumstances about acceptance, Penn was a pretty good pilot because he had survived to graduation. Penn was unusual tall for a fighter pilot with a military crew cut and disturbingly immaculate uniforms.

Next on the list was Lt. Rachel Lyta. Quigley didn't have to read the dossier. He knew her history by heart. She had been born on Houston just like Quigley. She had done a little time with LPI before being accepted to West Point. From what Quigley had seen when he had been her wingmate before he'd left, that time with LPI had served her well because she was an extordinary snub-jocky. She was an adept leader and usually lead the squadron's patrols if someone who outranked her like Penn and Quigley wasn't assigned to the patrol. Rachel has was four inches shorter than Quigley at 5'4". Her red hair was cut short to fit into her flight helmet. She looked great all around. but one would never know from the enunch-designed flight suits she preferred to wear. Finally were her gorgeous green eyes that suited her perfectly. When she was happy, they radiated light; when she was angry, they were weapons of doom; and when she was sad, they would make the most stalwart man break into tears.

Quigley was dreamily losing focus of the point of why he opened the personnel files. He shook his head to summon it back from dreamland and closed Rachel's file. He went onto the next one. It was file of the large, dark-skinned man he had met in the bar. The dark man was named Jason Wolf a.k.a. Wolfie. Wolfie grew up on the mean streets of Manhattan. An orphan he had to fight for everything he got. He grew to be street-smart and big enough to discourage anyone from messing with him. Placed in a state boarding school, Wolfie put his determination for life into his studies and came out near the top of his class. His hard work payed off, and he was awarded a full ride to West Point. His sheer determination and street-wise awareness has made him a ruthless and able pilot.

The last file was one James Yalbourgh. Born on Colorado, he is geek personified. His skin is white as a sheet. He's smarter than most of Sirius and is rumored to have done the first and only human gigaflop in his head. James got into West Point on academics alone. He is a mediocre pilot overall, but his understanding of technology and mathematics have given him a sight edge over Death. He excelled in simulations because he was able to predict the computer's actions based on its response patterns. Against humans he has less success with that method and survives out of sheer luck and mathematics (prediction of ranges, trajectories, speed, and distances), not to mention a large amount of help from his wingman, Wolfie.

Quigley closed down the personnel files. He thought about his subordinates and sincerly hoped he didn't get them all killed. He sighed as the alarm for jumpgate reversion started whining. He steeled himself for the inevitable deceleration and whatever might await him in Hudson.

As he began to power up the weapons and activate the Avarice guns, he realized his Valkyrie didn't have a name. Many old spacers thought going into battle in a ship without a name was a bad omen. Quigley thought about the ship quickly and decided to go with a name of the Norse variety. The Valkyrie would be named the Valhalla Maiden .

OOC:Oye, it's been a hectic week. I just moved into college and adjusting is heck on a person. Also, I've recently aquired a webcomic addiction. I am now a regular of seven web comics. Is there a support group for web comics?


jedierrant

"You're clever than you look, Q" ~007
"It's better than looking clever than you are, 007."~Q



Edited by - jedierrant on 20-08-2003 00:18:31

Edited by - jedierrant on 20-08-2003 00:20:17

Edited by - jedierrant on 20-08-2003 03:10:17

OOC: Away with script style.

Johnson was released from the infirmary, with a full recovery, to an unusual world. Talk of promotions of various characters such as Lutz and Quigley filled the halls of the Vengeance . Maybe even the captain had been promoted, rumors say.

But Johnson had only one thing that actually mattered to him at that moment: being a mechanic in the docking bay. He was on his way there when something hit him. If everyone's being brought back into Liberty, Johnson thought, I could be turned in. After all, I am a wanted criminal.

Johnson burried the thought quickly, insisting to himself that the people he had proved his trust to would not betray him in return. Still though, a little piece of that thought gnawed at the back of his mind all the rest of the day. He entered the docking bay. Sensing nothing to do, he made his way to the bar. Getting drunk wasn't the greatest idea, but it suited his purposes for the moment.

When he got there, he ordered a sidewinder fang, Sirius' most popular drink. And then he began reminiscing about the old days at Dawson.

After his first imprisonment, he returned to Dawson at age sixteen. He was in quite a bad spot, because after all, he didn't have a ship. He constantly asked his superiors about getting a ship. Because of his constant asking, they gave him a Wolfhound wreck. It was crap and insulting to him, but he was determined to make it the best Wolfhound in the Rogue fleet. Well, Rogues aren't really organized in fleets....

He spent six months on Houston gathering parts for his ship, and six months on Dawson actually building his ship from burnt metal. He worked mainly in the docking bay, and he saw all the newcomers coming into Dawson. He saw a girl. He really didn't think much about her, until she was put in quarters right next to his. They would occasionally meet eachother in the hallways, exchange a few words, and part their ways. Her name was Valerie Jackson, and the two became friends. Then one day, he woke up, and she shone in a different light. He figured that he loved her. He really didn't know how to handle it, but he had the advantage of being on fairly friendly terms. A month after that, he was sent on his first mission. His life had fell into place; he had a ship, a job, a girl, and a home. Then he was thrown into the LPI Sugarland. He doubted that she still remembered him, so he figured that it wasn't worth it to go back. So he fled. To Hamburg. There, maybe he could find a better life.

He had taken quite a few drinks, and had actually told all this to a person who was sitting by him. "Man, that sucks for you."

"Tell me about it." Johnson said. "Well," He looked at the time. He didn't catch what it was. "I've gotta go to bed." So Johnson stumbled to his quarters and fell asleep.

The wormhole ended and the Valhalla Maiden was thrown into realspace. Quigley scanned the radar which was clean except his flight. Quigley turned toward the nearest asteroid field which should have contained Barrow Base. The four Defenders dropped into a Flying V with Quigley at its lead. Each branch of the V was a wingpair, and all pilots were designated by a number callsign. Quigley was Lead or One. Penn, Two, and Rachel, Three, were on his left. Wolfie, Four, and Jimmy, Five, were on his right. Quigley had chosen himself to be the one without a wingman because he had flown lone wolf in the past.

The Liberty fighters swept through the asteroid field. Their scanners were set one high, but if Barrow had been zapped like Dawson, there was little chance that Quigley and his fighters would find anything. Quigley had some intelligence on the location of Barrow Base but it was unreliable.

"Lead, this is Five. I've got faint power readings at nine o'clock" Quigley keyed his energy sensors and got nothing. Jimmy, the tech wizard, must have punched up the gain on his sensors.

"Roger, Five. Mu flight, turn to heading two-seven-zero." The fighters turned quickly to port and blasted off towards the sensor contacts. Quigley studied the readings he had requested from Five's computer. They were faint. Certainly not a ship under its own power. Maybe a lifepod.

As Mu flight closed on the contact, the ships slowed inching as the distance dwindled. "Flight, the contact appears to be one the otherside of this asteroid. I'm going to thrust around and take a look. Cover me." Quigley got four clicks on his comm units as Mu flight answered silently. Quigley oriented his ship to go around the space rock and stabbed down on his thruster. He felt like he'd been kicked in the butt as the Maiden lurched foward. He hit engine kill almost instantly and turned to see the other side of the asteroid. Embedded in the rock was a small listening post.

It was so tiny that the Rhienlanders would have never seen it and its sensor signature was nearly not existant. Quigley thrustered closer and triggered his comm unit. "Unknown listening post, this Liberty Navy fighter Mu One. Please Respond."

The comm spat forth a squeal of static then a voice. "Liberty Navy fighter, back off or I will slag you."

Quigley was a little surprised. For a person alone in a listening post with no other back up, he had a lot of guts. "Listening post, I am not hostile unless you are. I'd like to talk. I suspect it'll be benefitial for the both of us."

"Are you alone, Pointer?"

Pointer was the slang pirates used to refer to Navy pilots. "No." As he said that one word, the rest of Mu flight appeared around the asteroid and faced the miniscule post.

"Wha?!?! Whoah, Pointer, I don't want that much trouble. First Rhienland, now you."

"Rheinland? Now we have to talk. I think I can help you with that problem. Do you want to talk down there or I can tractor you in."

The listening post remained quiet for a second. "Pointer, I'm coming over in a EV suit. You tractor me, right? After that, I'll lead you to who you really need to talk to."

jedierrant

"You're clever than you look, Q" ~007
"It's better than looking clever than you are, 007."~Q



Edited by - jedierrant on 22-08-2003 14:34:52

New Florance was a relative new system. Only one hundred years ago it was discovered by a probe deployd by Scorsese Industries to find new resources.
It's only station was a mining station on the far side of the system, about 200K away.
And Justice Headquarters, the Raiders base they were looking for.

Michael : Scans show the remains of what seems to be a massive attack about 25K ahead in the icecloud.
Lutz : I hope we're not to late then.
Michael : I fear the worst. I detect nothing capable of comunicating, but I do detect a lot of loot. Scrap metal mostly.
Arrigoni : *wistles* That doesn't sound very prommising.

After five minutes their suspisions were confirmed; Where the base used to be, a large area was littered with scrap metal and dead ship hulls, or what was left of it. Some were still largly intact, but most of them were almost completely distroyed, cut in half or in any other way totaly ripped apart.

Michael : Scan for survivors guys, maybe we're lucky and someone's still alive. He might tell us who did this.
Lutz : Isn't it obvious? Terranova tested his weapon on this base. You know how he hates the criminals.
Michael : I know, but look at the totality of the distruction here. Not even a particle cannon is this powerfull.
Arrigoni : He's got a point there Lutz, we're obviously dealing with something far more powerfull here.
Lutz : Maybe, but remember what the Vengeance did to that cruiser.
Michael : Well, Whatever it was, it left no survivors. I've taken some readings here and I sugest we take them back to the Vengeance , where the engineers might be able to work out whatever it was that struck here.
We also need to set our priorities, because we have both Terranova and Rheinland to deal with now.
Arrigoni : I know a jumphole here that will get us straight to Alpha Draconis. Finally all that traveling through the borderworlds is paying off.
Michael : Ok Arrigoni, lead the way.

Arrigoni did so and Lutz and Michael formed up on either side of him.

-------------------------------------------------

A green light flashed on the left side of Michaels neuralnet, indicating that a message was received.
Michael opened the message:

Mission completed.
No Problems occured.
Signing off.
HD.

Michael smiled, everything seemed to work out.

Edited by - Nickless on 25-08-2003 12:31:40

OOC: I gotta post something!

As Roger was taking a nap in his quaters he thought about making those prototype weapons sligtly better against Terranova.

O'Connor: Barrel is overheating, thats the problem.
Denson: Yes, but we can't make adjustments to the barrel - it might distrupt ionic parts of the beam and by that we might just kill ourseves.
O'Connor: Yes, I.. I got it! Denson get over here. I don't trust theese BabCom units.

Few minutes later Denson was standing in captains quaters.

O'Connor: I have a job for Johnson. Tell him to go on New Rome and buy about 24 gatling guns. And some power plants. Give him the cargo hauler too.
Denson: But gatling guns don't do shield damage?
O'Connor: We are going to take apart those Prototype weaps. We need extra power but I think that it possible to mount those in gatling guns. And by using multiple barrels they can't go too hot. Wich means faster refiring.
Denson: Faster but not fast, but I think its enough to beat that Terraguy.
O'Connor: Yeah, now get Johnson ready, and if were not here tell him to follow us by those tracking devices.
Denson: Yes, sire!


----------------------------------------
Knight who wears White

www.thestuffnetworks.com
\ Greater God /
--Agree With ARCON Week--

OOC: Nice sig, white knight.

Johnson nearly jumped out of his bed when he heard a loud beep coming from the computer terminal (OOC: Erm..., whatever.). He was so used not having anyone contact him, that it shocked him when someone did. Johnson rubbed his eyes, went on over to the terminal, and accessed it.

"Johnson!" The figure of Denson smiling happily at him scared him.

"Yeah?" Johnson said in return.

"The captain's got a job for you."

"Yeah?"

"He wants you to go to New Rome and buy twenty four gatling guns." Twenty four, eh? thought Johnson. I wonder what the captain's got in mind with those.
"Oh, yeah. Take the cargo hauler." Denson's image was blocked by the sudden blackness of the screen.

"Whatever." Johnson said to himself. At least I have something to do now, thought Johnson. It was awfully boring with no damaged ships coming in, or sitting in bed in the infirmary, and getting drunk.... But now he could go out into space. Which was mildly exciting. To say the least.

Johnson went over to the ship's bathroom, and threw up. He went back to his quarters, strapped on the holster's of his guns, and went to the bar to get a little bite to eat. After that, he went over to the docking bay.

Denson met him there. "It's about time! What took you so long?"

"Something came up." lied Johnson.

Denson looked unsatisfied with that answer. "The cargo hauler is over there." said Denson pointing to a very run down Rhino. How can a cruiser hold this many ships, thought Johnson in the back of his mind. "It may not look like much, but it's got it where it counts." Johnson couldn't help but think of the Rhino he stole of Houston. It's uncanny resemblance did not please him.

"Who do I put the charge on?" asked Johnson.

"Roger O'Connor's private account." said Denson.

"Ok." said Johnson. "I'll be going now."

Johnson walked up to the Rhino. Why does this look so familiar? he thought to himself. He climbed into the cockpit. He recognized everything about it. The controls, the stains, the busted seats. "This is the ship I stole from Houston." He didn't know why, or how, but it was. At least it had some guns and a shield on it.

He tried to take off. It made a big sound, but ultimately failed, much to the laughter of the mechanics working on Echo 3. He tried again. This time the engine did start, and he pulled into the airlock. The doors shut behind him, and the doors in front of him opened. He pulled out into space. He set a waypoint for the New Rome jumpgate, and settled back.

It took nearly a minute for the Rhino to reach cruise speed. "I'm renaming you to the Old n'Busted ." He then plotted a way to get the gatling guns.

From the Maiden's jury-rigged rear seat, Morrill, the Xeno from the listening post, directed Quigley and his flight to the pirates' backup base. Morrill said few worlds only when necessary. He seemed to have a seething dislike of Quigley and maybe even a bit of fear at being inside a Navy fighter.

Quigley checked his nav map. The directions Morrill was giving seemed to be leading the flight towards the dark side of Atka, the only planet in the area. Quigley was proven right as Morrill told him to orbit the planet.

"Hey, Morrill, you can stop keeping me in the dark. I've figured that your base in on the other side of Atka. You mind telling how to get down there. There isn't a docking ring." Quigley asked impatiently.

"If ya don't have the nerve for it, that's fine with me, Pointer. Doesn't that Academy of yours teach you how to enter an atomsphere without a precious docking ring?"

"Of course it does. It's only supposed to be done in emergencies. Even with training, it's one of the hardest manuvuers to do. You, the expert, should be able to walk me throught it, right?" Quigley looked over his shoulder at the EV suit clad Morrill, expecting an answer. He got none. "I thought so. I'll rephrase the question, how do you get down?"

"There's a tractor beam in the con tower that guides pilots down. All have to do is radio in."

Quigley flipped some switches. "Have at it. I've set the ship's comm to channel three-niner salvoy." Morrill switched his suit's comm to the designated channel and began hushed conversation with the hidden base. While Morrill tried to keep his voice down, the sqwacking coming from the suit's speakers made it seem whoever was in charge of the hidden base wasn't welcoming visitors at the moment.

"Okay, they've agreed to let you land. But they're a bit pissed off by the whole idea. None of you, Libertidiots, better flinch or it'll be my ass that gets fried too."

"Ah, Morrill, you'd make a good diplomat. You've got that confidence and understanding that makes everyone want to get along."

The Maiden shook as something took hold. Quigley instinct told him to fight it, but this reason assured him that it was just the tractor beam. Quigley checked his flight and saw that none of them had panicked. The beam gently turned them toward the base and brought them down to the camoflaged landing platform softly.

Quigley unstrapped himself and and raised the canopy. He levered himself out of the ship and dropped, landing in a crouch. He turned to see how his pilots were doing. They were all standing by their fighters. Penn was looking around at the pirate base with a look of disgust. Wolfie looked unusually calm; the lower levels of Manhattan and a hidden pirate base must not be too different. Jimmy was standing as near as he could to Wolfie. Rachel stood in the shadow of her fighter. She saw Quigley and walked over to him. Her gait was nonchalant, but Quigley could see her green eyes quickly taking in her surroundings, analyzing for threats. She arrived beside him just as Morrill was coming out of the Valkyrie's cargo hatch still in his EV suit. He walked over to the two Liberty pilots and, twisting the helmet, took it off.

"Damn, it's nice to get that thing off." Morrill spotted Rachel and looked her over. "Wow, baby. I didn't know they let pretty things like you into West Point. Hey, let you in on a secret, I'm not wearing anthing under this suit."

Rachel's green eyes shrunk into furious slits. She was obviously not amused or embarassed by Morrill's advances. She slipped her blaster out of her thigh holster and pressed it against the suit's crotch. "Good. That means there won't be anything more to absorb this bolt."

"Clearly, one of you wants to get shot." someone interrupted. Quigley turned to meet the new voice. He saw an imposing female flanked by armed pirates. The woman was tall and slender with ridicously long legs. She wore knee high boots and a tight bodysuit. Quigley heard a wow and turned to see young Jimmy peaking from around Wolfie, his eyes very wide. Rachel took a step back and dropped the pistol back into its holster. "That's better. Morrill, if you'd said that to anyone but a Pointer, I'd let her blow away your manliness, you pig."

"I am Captain Matthew Quigley of the Liberty Navy. I've come to dicuss the matter of the Rhienlanders in this system. Who am I speaking to?"

"Well, if that isn't polite. Should I courtsey with these introductions? If you must know, I am Jezebel formly of the Xenos. Now I'm the default leader of the Survivors, what's left of the Xenos, Unioners, and Rogues in this system. I should shoot right now, but I'm willing to let you prattle on. I won't have to wait long anyways because what you plan to do about Rhienland means very little. There's nothing Liberty can do to stop those filthy Huns now."

jedierrant

"You're clever than you look, Q" ~007
"It's better than looking clever than you are, 007."~Q

Rocky Top, you'll always be
home sweet home to me;
Good ol' Rocky Top--Rocky Top Tennessee
Rocky Top Tennessee



Edited by - jedierrant on 24-08-2003 02:29:49

Edited by - jedierrant on 24-08-2003 02:34:36

"This is Freelancer Black Four Dash Nine, requesting permission to dock." said Johnson. He was a sitting duck waiting for the docking pattern to clear. I sure hope no pirates come, thought Johnson.

"Permission granted, Freelancer Black Four Dash Nine. Make sure you actually land that thing." said the docking ring controller.

"Thank you, New Rome Docking Control. Freelancer out." said Johnson. A docking control operator with a sense of humor. Not a thing better than that.

Johnson was pulled down towards the planet. He flew around looking for a landing pad suitable for his purposes. He flew between buildings, under bridges, over railways, looking for a seedy landing pad. He flew lower. Aha, he thought, just the thing I need. He landed on what quite possibly could've been the worst possibly maintained landing pad in Sirius. He got out, and the metal groaned under his footsteps.

He made his way towards the equipment dealer. The dealer, working on a Junker ship, came to him. "How can I help you?" he asked.

"Make it nice and shiny, and make sure that the engine doesn't make any unusual or unsettling noises. Don't do anything else." said Johnson. Johnson pulled out a wad of money from under his suit. "Half now, half when I'm satisfied." It was quite a large wad of money, easily enough to stay a week on an Orbital cruise liner.

"I'll do it as soon as possible." said the dealer.

"Make it tomorrow morning." said Johnson. Johnson gave some of the money to the dealer.

Johnson then made his way towards the bar. He wanted to find a high quality professional suit. Something an affluent businessman might wear. Down in the depths of the alleyway canyons, something like that was cheap to come by.

Johnson walked into the bar. He looked around, and saw the surroundings. Lots of seedy people. He fit in perfectly. He walked to the counter. "What would ya like?" asked the bartender.

"A little information, actually. Would you happen to know a place where I might obtain a suit of proffessional quality?" Johnson asked.

"Down here? You gotta be kidding."

"I never kid. So, do you know anything? Seen anyone? Any contacts? Any places?"

"Well, I have seen someone."

"Well?"
___________________________________________

Johnson stood around a corner in wait. The person he was looking for, a Universal sales rep, was yet to be seen. Suddenly, he heard footsteps.

"God, I hate going down here." the rep said to himself.

Yep, that's him. Just to make sure, he peeked around the corner. Yep, that's him indeed. Just as he came around the corner....

"PUT YOUR HANDS UP!!" The rep pulled out his own gun and shot at Johnson. Johnson was fortunate enough to take cover.

"Don't make this harder on yourself!" Johnson was wondering how good of a shot this guy was. Johnson placed his guns around the corner and alternated fire over any possible place for cover. He stopped shooting for a little bit each place. When the Universal rep peeked out over some crate, Johnson fired. Johnson then turned around the corner making sure not to let down in fire, slowly moving towards the crate. Safe guy, Johnson thought. Johnson came closer to the crate. He finally turned around the crate.

"You should've done the smart thing and surrender. I might've had to kill ya. Now give me that nice suit." said Johnson.
_______________________________________________
Johnson, carrying a nice suit, Took one of the trains on the railways to a nice hotel. There he spent the night.

Edited by - Jim Groovester on 24-08-2003 07:19:47

*Weird noises from shooting range*

O'Connor: OK let it rip!

*something blows up*

Denson: Hmm so thats not the way either....
O'Connor: Yeah, we should maybe consentrate the beam little more. I think it still hits the barrel.
Denson: Maybe... but we can merge these weaps, tho it wouldn't help.
O'Connor: Wait! It might work! I mean that theese barrels are smaller and that means that they will cool down faster, so we wont be putting the prototype spinning but the barrels around it.
Denson: And we can harvest some energy from it! Brilliant!
O'Connor: Now we might need more guns to test it on.
Denson: Yes, I wanted to ask why so many gatling guns?
O'Connor: We have lots of ships here, including a very big one. And who knows how many will be blown up with testing the system.
Denson: Good point!

*Security chef comes running to captain*

Harrison: Couple of turrets just went dead. Wires again.
O'Connor: I'll handle it. Denson, you keep trying with those protos. And tell Johnson when he arrives that he'd come see me!
Denson: Ok
Harrison: This way!

*2 hours later*

Harrison: Cought it!
O'Connor: Good now give it to me and let some technicans fix it. I'll be in my quaters.

*Roger walked away with his long lost rodent*

O'Connor: Last time I will let the cage to open. Not only are theese kind of animals rare, but they are dangerous too.


----------------------------------------
Knight who wears White

www.thestuffnetworks.com
\ Greater God /
--Agree With ARCON Week--

Jezzebel pulled out her pistol and leveled it at Quigley's forehead. "On second thought, I really don't want to listen to you. So if you'll excuse me..." The rest of the pirates brought their weapons to ready and took aim at the hapless Liberty pilots.

Quigley's hands twitched at his side. He wanted to draw his needler but knew he'd never get it out of the holster before Jezzebel and her cohorts mowed him down. What a great way to end my second chance. They'll never find our bodies, Quigley thought.

"Maam, I think you should hear the Captain out. It's in your best interest." All eyes turned toward Jimmy, now standing in front of Wolfie. Quigley looked the young man over. Jimmy normally tried to stay out of the line of fire. This confidence could only come from an ace in the hole. Quigley spotted something over Jimmy's right eye. It looked a small heads-up display. Jimmy was looking at each pirate directally. Quigley caught something in the corner of his vision. The guns on Jimmy's Defender were moving by themself.

Quigley turned and looked at the pirates. They had lowered weapons and most of them looked like they had wet themselves and were quivering in pure terror. Quigley knew Jimmy was a tech-head, but he wanted to know how the punk did it.

Jezzebel looked shocked but better off than her men. "Well, I guess you've got the floor, Captain. Actually, the floor and whatever else you want along as you've got those five Lavablades. Why don't you come in? We've got some nice Molly whiskey circa 764."

Quigley raised an eyebrow. "No, thank you. I haven't spent much time outside in the last outside in the last couple of years. So I think we should just talk here."

"Thought so. I'll have chairs brought over. Then you can regale me with whatever tale the Navy high and might have sent you all this way to tell."

jedierrant

Saving damsels in distress,
Defending the defenseless,
Fighting for the underdog,
Don Quixote in an X-wing.

Johnson woke up nice, bright and early that morning. He didn't feel like he had gotten very much sleep, and he blamed it on the faster rotation of the planet. He took a shower, put on his newly acquired suit, and examined himself in the mirror. "Damn, I look good." he said. The only thing left to do was to fix his hair. It was extremely messy because, well.... he was a Rogue. They don't need good hair. So he combed it back, put a nice part in it, and looked in the mirror again. "Very proffessional. This will pass."

Johnson exited his room, and took the lift to the lobby. He checked out, and left the hotel. He went to the nearest station, and took it to where he left his ship.

He walked over to the equipment dealer. He saw his Rhino. It looked so much
better. "What did you do to my ship?" He bellowed.

"Just as you asked; now about my payment." the dealer said.

"Of course." Johnson handed over the rest of the money. "Pleasure doing business with you."

"With you as well." the dealer responded.

Johnson walked over to his ship. He examined it carefully. Very nicely polished, he thought. Johnson entered his ship. Still looks like crap on the inside though, he thought. And it did.
___________________________________________
It was standard procedure to bring the ship to the landing pad, and thankfully, it did not take too long. Johnson went into the cosmetically improved Rhino, and he took off.

Johnson flew around the surface of the planet, looking for an equipment dealer that might serve people willing to pay a high price for their equipment. Sure enough, he found a series of ads that promised "Whatever you need when you need it.", so he figured that he would hold them to that promise.

He landed on pad extremely close to one of those stores. He exited with his back straight, and he converted himself into snotty rich Libertonian mode. He approached the dealer, who looked very excited to see him. He must have thought that I was some bic corporate exec, Johnson thought. Just what I need.

"Hello," Johnson greeted the man with a handshake. "I might be willing to pay a high price for what I need."

"Well, I'm your man." The dealer said. He seemed to think that was funny, and he laughed at it. Johnson laughed too, just to get along with this guy.

"Let me introduce myself -- I'm Roger O'Connor, president, owner, and founder of O'Connor Transit Lines. Now, I just started this gig off, and I need some equipment to arm my fleet. I've just hired a couple of guys who seem very eager to help me, but I'll need some weapons. I've got ships, but no weapons, and as I was flying around, the ad to your store really appealed to me, so I was thinking I might buy...." Johnson put an intentional pause to gain the dealer's attention.

"Yes, yes." the dealer said impatiently.

".... twenty four gatling guns. As your ad says...." Johnson said.

"I know what the ad says, but before I can give that to you, I'll need your transit liscense, weapon liscense, and your company liscense." The dealer expected Johnson to have all this stuff. It was more like he was following procedures than actually caring about the liscenses.

"Remember what I said? I just started this thing off, and I've sent out the applications, but I don't want to wait for them to come in, I want to start helping people ship their important goods." said Johnson.

"I'll need your liscenses." said the dealer, obviously getting impatient.

Johnson put his arm around the shoulder of the dealer, and said in a low voice, "I think you and I might be able to overlook this little flaw on my part... for a price." Johnson flashed at least a thousand credits before the dealer's eyes.

The dealer looked as if he was torn into two pieces. It took him a while to respond. "All right, all right, I'll give you your guns. Just never ever come back here again, or else I could lose my job." the dealer said.

"Sure thing, sure thing."
_______________________________________
After the guns were loaded into the cargo bay of the Rhino, Johnson took off as fast as he could. He felt relieved that he had gotten the guns successfully without being caught.

Once in space, he moved as fast as possible, hoping that the sparse police patrols might not scan his bay. And ask him for documentation. Just then....

"Freelancer Black Nine Dash Four, this is Italian Police Patrol Theta Thirteen, scanning your cargo bay." said the not-so-friendly sounding police officer. Aww crap, Johnson thought. "Requesting documentation of those twenty four gatling guns in your hold."

"Transmitting the data to your neural net now," Johnson responded. He put the ship into cruise mode. I hope this works a second time, Johnson thought.

"Target is making a break for it! Entering pursuit! Requesting backup!" The officer yelled through his comm. The rest of the radio chatter was filled with responses of compliance and of requests to help in the capture of the criminal.

Johnson went fast to the trade lane. He didn't know where the jumphole to Alpha Draconis was, so he would have to take a big risk and go through the jumpgate.

He suddenly felt a major shift in momentum. The trade lane had been disrupted. "All right, hand over your cargo and we won't kill you." said one of the criminals.

"Raiders twelve o'clock! Engaging enemy!" shouted the officer, not expecting this.

Fortunately for Johnson, this is the kind of break he was hoping for. He entered into cruise speed, and made way for the next ring. He wasn't inclined to help the law. After all, they were trying to capture him. Johnson arrrived at the next ring and entered it, with a short moment of relief.

As he came out, the border station queried him. "Freelancer Black Four Dash Nine, have you seen a person fleeing from the law, carrying gatling guns." the operator asked.

"No I haven't. I'll keep my eyes peeled though."

"Thank you, Freelancer."

Johnson didn't know why they hadn't searched his bay, but he didn't care. The rest of the trip was relatively uneventful, and he entered onto the Vengeance . He set his ship down.

"What are you wearing that nice suit for?" asked one of the mechanics upon his disembarkment.