Part One
___



A column of smoke poured from the hull of the severely damaged bloodhound light fighter. The flames that enveloped the ship, combined with the poor handling clearly indicated the craft was on its last legs. The pilot struggled with the controls but with a wing and tail blown off control was difficult. It wasn't long before the craft flew into a Badlands asteroid, exploding in a fireball, the pilot screaming as he came closer to his doom.

For many kilometres, the wreckage and part-chassis of destroyed fighters lay strewn. For some unlucky pilots whose ships were merely crippled and were drifting without power, their voices could be heard on all pirate channels, the pitiful pleas for help from the injured or dying falling on deaf ears.

This was the New York system, Liberty space, Sirius sector.

This was the ending for those brave enough to fight in space and be on the losing side. Today, a fleet of cadets from West Point Academy had virtually annihilated a task force of Liberty Rogue fighters. Some of the Rogues were veterans of many years, struggling to eke an existence in the harsh environment of Sirius. There was no hope for those that were weak. The abundance of natural resources enabled population expansion and technological advancements in parallel. The automobiles of the 21st century had been replaced with starships, fighters, freighters and transports. Everyone had one. It was said, some very wealthy people had access to gunboats, cruisers and battleships, but this was as yet unproven.

The side-effect of such fertile conditions? Life was cheap. Humans had expanded farther into the Sirius sector than ever before at a rate that had staggered even the scientists at reknowned places like Cambridge Research Station.

Three Rogue ships had survived the skirmish with the West Point cadets. They limped back at cruise to Beaumont Base in Texas, the nearest friendly base beyond range of Liberty patrols, via a jump hole. It was a despondent, subdued journey. No-one spoke of the earlier conflict. Nothing was necessary. The Rogues had become complacent, they lost ground today to the next generation of Liberty defenders and at the same time, lost most of their seasoned and experienced pilots.

The pilots docked at the station, met with a hundred disappointed faces. Some sobbing could be heard from the crowd. One man stepped forwards. He wore a dark grey single-piece uniform, a small tube that ran the length of his left shoulder to a breather at his nose hissed at regular intervals. The three pilots climbed down from their cockpits and removed their helmets watching him. They looked tired, weary.

"You are all that remain?" asked the man. He was in his late-thirties, dark hair, slightly greying at the temples. A man of medium-build but in good shape, he radiated authority, purpose and power. Everyone listened quietly as he spoke.

"Yes, we had over thirty fighters. We managed to destroy at least a dozen before another wing of fighters came out of nowhere. We were flanked and before we could respond were caught in a cross-fire. We had no chance!" said one of the pilots. He wiped some blood from his forehead, a result of some equipment coming loose and striking his helmet heavily during the fight.

The man shook his head in disbelief. He turned his attention back to the pilots, his frown increasing in intensity. The pilots felt very small indeed.

"This was meant to be a lesson. A lesson that would teach the Liberty military and police not to venture into the Badlands ever again. How is it, a group of green, untrained cadets were able to take down some of our finest? Men with families that no longer have the means to support themselves," the man was shouting now, his rage almost tangible. He waved his hand behind him. "You see these people? The men vaporised in space feed them no longer and they have to survive by scraping a life amongst the debris fields once more!"

The pilots stepped back in fear.

"We did all we could. They had, experts with them. Surely not all were mere cadets - they flew like aces! Please! We were slaughtered out there. Even our equipment was inferior..!" Suddenly the man stopped in his tracks. He looked down slowly, eyes wide open. A hole had appeared in his chest, a blackened, charred ring was sizzling - a result of a high-energy blast. He looked up and managed to gasp once, then fell to his back sightless eyes staring accusingly at the other two pilots, who looked away.

The man in the grey uniform sheathed his gun smoothly and hissed. "Excuses. Get rid of him."

Some men walked forwards and dragged the body away, then the man turned to face the crowd and raised his voice high, so all could hear.

"You have grown soft! Compared to life in the Border Worlds, this is nothing! The Liberty bastards are trampling all over you and this is your response? Weak! You are all weak!"

One of the two pilots seemed as if he was about to speak but was restrained by the other, who clamped a hand onto his shoulder shaking his head.

"You know who I am. I represent the Outcasts. And when I make my report to the Don he will not be pleased. He will not be pleased that the Junkers and Rogues of Liberty are lapdogs and bullseyes. We must find a way to get your part of space back. Then we will make the people of Liberty and those who oppose us, pay. Be it by death, or other. Mark my words. This is not the end by any means. We Outcasts will help you. In fact, we have already started helping you. Now. Get back to work. We have a long journey ahead of us!".

The man stalked away to his ship, light gleaming from it's dark hull and the deadly weapons mounted on it. A reflection of it's owner.


___ Several months later ___

The alarm went off. As always the noise was deafening, especially for those still in deep slumber. A naked arm pushed forth from the covers, trying to find the offending clock in a lazy attempt to turn it off. As usual, the clock was at the far side of the bedside table, 'just' beyond reach forcing more of an effort. A lock of long, hazel-coloured hair fell onto the covers as the girl stretched reaching for the clock and turned the alarm off.

She fell back to the bed, a spray of hair now surrounding her head. She was in her early twenties, her green eyes blinked as she struggled to focus in the dim light.

"Blinds," she said aloud sleepily. The voice recognition computer activated the shutters at the opposite end of the room. The girl smiled as she saw the impressive view emerge. In high orbit above Planet Hiran, Sigma-19, her room aboard the Luxury Liner Hawaii was one of the finest views of the system. She shivered and leaned up, wrapping the sheet around her.

"Climate dry, twenty degrees!" she ordered. Almost immediately a gust of warm air enveloped her, the vents around her room changing the temperature accordingly.

It had been a rough night, she thought to herself trying to remember what happened. She smiled as the fog of sleep lifted, then raised her hand to her mouth as she remembered something.

"Voice Call, room one-one-four-six!" she demanded. A soft beeping began from the speaker near her bed. Moments later another sleepy voice responded, this one male.

"By Kusari hells. What time do you call this? Who's on the line please?" he asked. He had an oriental accent, the soft burr was clear though the voice was tired.

"Hi Kenji. It's Tanya. Wake up!" said the girl. She was already rising, the sheet wrapped around her making the journey from bed to bathroom a complicated task. "Do you know what day it is today?" she asked, eventually dropping the sheet having tripped for the second time. Her build was athletic, legs toned, slim waist. She lithely stepped across the cold floor to the bathroom and undressed entering the shower.

"Uh, Tanya. Is that water I hear?" asked Kenji curiously. He was one of the finest pilots she had met. Hailing from a clan based in Kusari space, his family for generations had been one of the leading bounty hunter groups in Sirius. His flight style was clean, precise and efficient. He also had a great sense of humour buried deep within a strong sense of tradition and a big soul. Tanya loved him like a brother.

"Yes!" she shouted back. The water was cold initially but warmed up quickly. "I don't have a lot of time," she shrieked as she dropped the soap. "Anyway, we're heading out to Omicron Theta today. Have you been there before? I hear that corsairs fly there freely, along with other pirates and freelancers who trade illegal goods!" The water stopped, and warm air was blasted into the cubicle.

"Uh, what? Theta? Yes. I have been there," shouted Kenji over the noise from the dryer. "But only when I was much younger! It is dangerous. In fact, all the border worlds are dangerous. They are not patrolled by any major force. We are lucky to be on the Hawaii in one piece, given our last encounter with those damned Outcasts."

Tanya grimaced for a moment, the dryer turned off and she stepped out feeling refreshed. She walked over naked to a wardrobe and pulled out some underwear and a jumpsuit.

"Those 'damned' Outcasts are human like us, you know," she said. There was a pause before her friend replied in a tone she had never heard before.

"No way, Tanya. They're monsters. You hear the stories of what they do to captured pilots? They torture them. Put out eyes. Dismember limbs. Monsters."

Tanya looked annoyed as she zipped up her suit, then walked over to a full-length mirror briefly before tying her hair back as she did so.

"Listen," she began. "The Outcasts are just like us. They are just forced to exist differently. If the big corporations and militaries would accept them as another legitimate territory, we could open trade with them and have no more wars."

Kenji laughed.

"Tanya. You are going native, my dear. We have been here for one month and already you know how they think. Our families would think the worst of us, especially if they found out how much research you were doing about the Outcasts," he joked.

"See you on the flight deck, Kenji," said Tanya smiling. She put on a pair of light flying shoes and grabbed her cap from a hook near the door.

"Lights off!" she said and stepped out into the corridor, the door closing behind her with a soft hiss.

___

Luxury Liner Hawaii was an incredible piece of technology. It was built and managed by Orbital Spa and Cruise, a company that took paying customers, for a huge fee, the length and breadth of Sirius to dangerous yet exciting, beautiful and mysterious places. The Sigma-19 system was the most impressive and reknowned of locations. Naturally, the passengers would require escorts through dangerous territory, the escorts by nature were some of the most accomplished pilots in Sirius.

Tanya and Kenji were members of wealthy families. Noble houses who felt that the best training a Sirius pilot could get, would be to fly in the most dangerous territories available. It was risky, especially for those families who did not have many children and could little afford the risk. Others decided any risk was worth it. Trustworthy pilots were rare these days, many 'escorts' had turned on their paymasters demanding extortionate sums or be blasted into oblivion. Many were slain even if the funds were transferred.

Tanya loved spaceflight. She had long grown accustomed in her twenty-three standard years of life to the rigours of jump gate travel, combat and patrols. Her Banshee light fighter, dubbed, "Athena" was her favourite ship by far, although she yearned to fly a Very Heavy Fighter one day. It was incredibly agile, could mount powerful guns and best of all, looked great. She walked to a viewing gallery that overlooked the main hangar. She watched in fascination as dozens of ships, shuttles, and freighters docked and undocked. Loading and unloading their cargo. Repairs were being done by highly advanced maintenance robots in one area, sparks flying everywhere. She watched as one fighter docked. It wasn't one she recognised, a sleek dark shape that had a double wing connected by two stabilisers.

'Sabre, Sabre, Sabre' a voice whispered in her mind. She shook her head as a bright light suddenly flashed behind her eyes. Damn, these headaches were getting worse, she told herself.

Her curiosity aroused, Tanya headed for the lift but distracted by the hangar, wasn't watching where she was going and bumped into someone.

"Oh! I'm sorry," she apologised. The man before her held her gaze. His dark eyes penetrated her own almost staring into her soul. She shivered. The man was in his mid-twenties, light brown hair and wore some strange tattoos across his cheeks, three maroon parallel lines across each cheek moving downwards. He wore a dark-grey uniform, but said nothing, his face impassive.

"No problem," he said. His accent was slightly Hispanic. Alarm bells rang in her mind. "I must be on my way," he nodded and tried to walk past her but she partially blocked his way. He looked down at her. "Can I help you, miss? I am in a hurry." She paused.

"No, sorry." Tanya stepped aside and smiled, then watched as the man hurried away. He entered a lift, then turned around. His head was slightly lowered, a slight frown appearing as the doors closed. She saw a glimpse of a tube coming forth from his left shoulder, then he was gone.

"Who was that?" asked Kenji from behind her. She turned grinning, ran over and hugged him tightly. "Whoa whoa! What did I do to deserve this?" he asked surprised.

"Nothing!" replied Tanya letting him go.

"So. Er. Who was he? You know him?" he asked again.

"I don't know. I think I've seen him before, but never met him. Know what I mean?" she asked distracted. Kenji pondered that for a moment.

"No, not really. You ok?" he asked, now concerned at his friend's lack of focus. "We should hurry, or we'll miss the briefing. I don't want to be late this time, or it's boring vanguard patrol duty again," he sighed. Tanya nodded.

"You're right. Let's go. Last there buys the coffee!" she laughed. As they ran to the lift, she saw the Hispanic man in the hangar, walking towards the ship that had just docked. Two other similar men stepped out, one passed over a package. The other stood on the ramp speaking. As if he was psychic, the tattooed man looked up at the gallery, catching Tanya's eyes. Then, the doors closed and he was gone again, for the second time.

Tanya didn't feel curiosity this time, she felt an overwhelming feeling of dread.

___

The briefing room was huge, with seating for over three hundred people. It was currently half-full, with the upper tiers of seats empty.

A large projection of the Hawaii was revolving in the centre. Commandant Sears, a veteran in his mid-fifties of over a hundred battles and several duels was standing by a podium. The Hawaii disappeared replaced with an image of Sigma-19. A number of white lines indicated the patrol routes, red were known hostiles, white were neutrals or unknowns and green were friendly. One green line that stretched from the Hawaii to the trade lane that eventually docked with Sigma-13 was almost lost amongst a maze of red and white lines. Tanya was dismayed to see there were more red, than white.

"People. Our journey today is simple. We are making for Omicron Theta. To get there, we must travel to Sigma-17, then through a cloud near Planet Kurile where we dock to re-supply, then continue to Omicron Theta. Our final destination is Freeport 9." Images flashed quickly in sync with the briefing, showing patrols and further routes.

"The journey should take no more than two hours, if all is well. On your screens you will find your wing designations, your flight leaders and patrol routes. Know this, the Outcasts have been increasing their activity over the last week. It's rumoured that a large fleet of Corsair ships are readying themselves for a strike somewhere in the Border Worlds. Right now, we do not know where or when this will happen, but both groups are not happy with our presence here. Stay sharp, stay alive. Take-off at 0900 hours. Dismissed."

Tanya reviewed her assignment, then grinned.

"Yes!" she said cheerfully to Kenji sitting next to her. She chewed her pen in thought, then spoke again. "I'm near the front doing forward recon. How about you?"

Kenji looked glum. His usually cheerful expression was dulled, dark eyes brooding and unhappy.

"Vanguard. At the back. Again," he sighed. Tanya tried to look serious.

"It's a serious job, Kenji," she said trying to stifle a smile.

"Hey, it's not funny. This is the third time. How come you get to fly all the good stuff?" he asked ruefully, but secretly happy he wasn't chosen. Recon was easily the most dangerous of all duties. For some strange reason, Tanya loved throwing herself into danger.

"Live for the moment," was her reply. She winked. "And let's face it. Life is way too short to worry about stuff like that.." she stopped suddenly grimacing in pain. Another headache came, along with another word. "Malta, Malta, Malta".

"You ok, Tanya?" asked a concerned Kenji. She blinked then took a few deep breaths.

"Yeah. Just tired I guess. Been getting these headaches recently. Well, we should get prepped. See you later. Bring my coffee, you rogue!" she laughed. Kenji mock bowed.

"Yes, mistress."

They got up and left. Behind them, another pilot watched them leave. His attention had only caught at the mention of one word: rogue.

___

(cont'd)



Edited by - Athena on 10/4/2004 11:45:44 AM

HOLY SH*T!!!

This is some good stuff! I assume you've written before; this is not the work of a novice writer. I am very impressed by your apparent willingness to proofread (either that or your exceptional spelling and grammar skills). Keep it up. If enough of us do it (proofread, that is) maybe some of the less willing writers will begin to do so as well.



Edited by - CODENAME on 9/23/2004 7:45:00 AM

Hi Codename!

Yes. I do proof-read. In fact, I find that when I re-read my stuff, I'm able to correct things that don't make sense as well as pick up the usual spelling / grammar / punctuation errors (trusting spell check can suck sometimes, try checking 'bretonian', you'll get 'begonia').

Further, I get more ideas when I read things over and probably most importantly, fill in details where I've glossed over something in a hurry (hey, it happens!).

Glad you liked it, I'll post some more later

ttfn

"That's beautiful," whispered Tanya, inadvertently over the comms. Her green eyes grew larger as she drank in the awe-inspiring sight.

Her gaze was captured by the triple suns of the Sigma 17 system. The two smaller sister suns blinking in and out of the night as they spun and rotated in the eternal dance with the larger green sun at the centre of the system. They had passed Atka station a few hours ago, heading galactic east towards a waypoint and eventually docking with Planet Kurile, a sole planet at the heart of a gas cloud.

"Recon 2! Clear the channels. We could face enemy contact any moment," ordered Recon Leader Captain Montgomery, a hard-faced woman in her late thirties. "Focus on the job. Having good family credentials isn't worth a shield battery out here, rookie," she said icily. Tanya had taken an instant dislike to her when they met at the hangar, her Wing Leader was abrupt, bad-mannered and grumpy. She was probably still single. Tanya switched to a private channel.

"Kenji, this is Tanya. Can you hear me, over?" she asked. There was a pause, just long enough for Tanya to be concerned but fortunately it was short-lived.

"Tanya, my dear. Yes, Kenji here. I am a poet, no?" he replied in his usual jovial way. "The Sigma 17 suns are a sight!" he said breathlessly.

"Why did you take so long to reply?"

"Hm. Must be the suns, solar interference. Let me boost the power to my comm. Is that better?" Kenji's replies were quicker and clearer now.

"Yes. Much. How is vanguard today? Any action?"

"All quiet, may the heavens continue to grant such peace," said Kenji in monotone as though he was praying. "How about up front? Anything happening there?"

"No. Just I resist the urge to fire my Lancers at Montgomery every time she opens her mouth. I swear, if I had my way I'd send her ship without power into the Tahoe Ice Field. At least she'd be at home there," she sighed. "Formation flying is boring, but I do get a great view of the system without needing to fly my ship."

"Good, good. Well, I'm hungry."

"Always hungry," laughed Tanya interrupting.

"Yes. As I was saying. I hear they do great shell food on Kurile. It's a water planet you know, like Junyo where I'm from. Except the water is green. Not blue. Hm. Maybe I don't want to eat shellfish now." Kenji heard Tanya chuckle.

"I wonder if.." Kenji was cut short by a sharp beeping from his HUD. "Wait, I have intermittent contacts. Bearing 300. Corsair heavy fighters, Legionnaires coming out of the asteroid field!"

"Kenji! Kenji! What's happening?" asked Tanya. She could hear the other pilots chatter across the comms.

"Tanya, I am fine. There are three corsair ships, we are four. Hold on."

Tanya could hear the sounds of combat, missile lock beeps, countermeasure releases, the unmistakeable noises of gunfire and of course, the screams and voices of those taking hits and dying. Kenji's console was beeping louder now. She grinned when she heard Kenji shout his familiar battle-cry across the comms.

"Banzaaaii! Die pirate! You die pirate! You want some too, pirate? Eat this pirate!" screamed Kenji now lost in battle-lust, adrenaline and instinct taking over. There was a raucous cheer when the Vanguard leader announced "All clear, no more enemy contacts." Tanya breathed a sigh of relief.

"Nice job, young man," she chided.

"They didn't stand a chance, Tanya!" he replied. "Some nice salvage too, think I picked up a new gun."

Suddenly, the reverie was broken.

"Vanguard Leader, three more contacts at 2k and closing at cruise. Watch the flanks!" a wing mate shouted. "Three more approaching from Atka. They look like Corsair ships, but I don't recognise their configurations."

"We're in open space here and low on ammunition," said a concerned Kenji to his Wing Leader. "We should break and take evasive action!" he called. Tanya began to worry. The closest ships were still in formation twenty klicks ahead. It would be at least fifteen minutes before she could cruise back to his position.

"Vanguard 2, I issue the orders here. Not you, rookie," said the wing leader. "Unknown ships, this is Orbital Spa and Cruise, Vanguard Escort Leader. We are on a peaceful mission to Freeport 9. Please identify yourself."

Everyone in the escort fleet waited with great trepidation. There was only silence. Some static.

"Wing Leader, they are in missile range. Please. Give the order to break, we are so tightly in formation one missile would hit us all," said Kenji.

"Silence, rookie! Anymore from you and I'll put you in the dock!" shouted the Wing Leader. "I am in command here and.." he stopped as his HUD started beeping. Everyone in the fleet heard the next few seconds in agonising detail.

'Shield disrupted' announced his HUD.

"Wait, what the..?" began the Wing Leader. He started pushing buttons.

'Shield restored. Shield disrupted. Warning, hull breach imminent.'

"Nooooo!" he screamed. His ship was hammered by four missiles, the explosive warheads punching through his ship hull causing a shockwave that battered the three ships around him. Kenji managed to wrestle control of his ship in time, but noted to his dismay one of the other ships was drifting crippled in space, her engines totally destroyed. Three more missiles slammed into the crippled ship along with a strafing run from what must be an incredibly powerful energy weapon, purple in colour.

Kenji cried out as he watched his wingmate be vapourised in a cloud of metal and flame.

"Vanguard 3, this is Vanguard 2. Engage the enemy, break and take evasive action. People, we need help. Now!" shouted Kenji. Again, a cacophony of battle sounds came over the comms.

"I'm on it," replied the last remaining wing mate. Tanya knew little of him, a Bretonian named Richardson but had heard from Kenji he was a capable, if unimaginative pilot.

Tanya had counted six total enemy ships earlier. She prayed the escorts would come out of this alright.

"Wing Leader Montgomery, permission to leave formation and assist Vanguard?" she asked quickly.

"Permission denied. Stay in formation and await further orders."

More screams. More gunfire.

"Richardson!" shouted Kenji. "Check your six! Your six!"

"Lost life support, lost everything!" shouted Richardson in vain.

Tanya heard a chilling scream. Then silence.

"Damn! By Kusari hells, damn!" cursed Kenji. "Wing Commander, this is Vanguard 2. I am alone. Four enemy ships remain. They are using weapons I have never seen before. Please assist!" An explosion rocked his ship. "Have lost a wing. Attempting to break for Atka!" he said. Tanya knew Kenji's fighter was a Dragon. The best Kusari space had to offer. It had a fast turn and had six weapon hardpoints.

"Montgomery, they're dying out there. Please. We should help them," begged Tanya. She felt useless.

"Denied!" shouted her Wing Leader. "Can't you take simple orders, girl?" Tanya turned her comms off. Then opened a private channel to Kenji.

"Kenji," she whispered. "I'm sorry. Are you there? Kenji?" More explosions. More gunfire. Then static. Then silence. Tanya waited. "Kenji? Are you there? Tell me you're ok. Please." Her connection was suddenly severed.

"All fighters, this is Wing Commander Leeson, Vanguard reported contact with the enemy, checking status now. Recon 1 and 2, continue on to Planet Kurile. Escorts 1 through 3 full cruise to Vanguard's last position. Rest of you hold position and await further orders. Get moving!"

The wings split up. Tanya shivered. Twenty ships were now split into three groups. And still no sign of Kenji. She choked back her tears. An image of one of her Recon wingmates, Travis from Planet Houston in Liberty, appeared on Tanya's HUD. The screen flickered as Tanya's light fighter passed through a solar ray.

"Hi Tanya, Travis here. I know you were close with one of the guys in Vanguard, the Kusari. He was a friend of yours, right?"

"Yes," she said sadly. She nodded, then cursed inside when she realised Travis could tell she was upset. She coughed and cleared her throat.

"Yes, he..is." she confirmed, her voice more resolute than before.

"I'm sure he's gonna be ok. He's a good pilot. He knows how to take care of himself. Just wanted you to know that everything will work out. Hang in there," he said comfortingly. He smiled then nodded.

"Thanks, Travis. I'll remember that."

The flight to Kurile would be a long one. And a sad one.

___

(cont'd)

Edited by - Athena on 9/23/2004 10:12:55 AM

*claps*

Well done

I'm assuming this is your first FL fanfic?

I have to say this is very impressive. Looks like i'm going to have to pull my finger out

Athena
Very good work. Good detail, in expressions, discriptions used to tell more than just words spoken. Well Done!

VERY good Athena!
As CODE said, you must be an experienced writer.
I think I will pencil you in for the next volume of the FanFic collection.
(If you don't know what that is, take a look at my post in this section entitled 'FanFic Collection'.)
Again, good job, and welcome to the TLR community!

____________________________________
Some questions I have...
If you throw a cat out a car window does it become kitty liter?
If it's tourist season, why can't we shoot them?
Why did kamikaze pilots wear helmets?
Why do people who know the least know it the loudest?

Hi again!

Thanks for the kind comments.

I'm not a professional or anything. It's more of a hobby. I have been writing a couple years though, and I love reading.

Will post more later.

ttfn

NICE

I know I shall meet my fate, somewhere is the stars above, Those I fight I do not hate, Those I guard I do not love

Very Cool.... I like it

Freeport 9 was a strange yet mysterious place.

It was a huge monolithic structure with several branches away from the central core. The space station was located between dangerous gas clouds and asteroid formations, known as the last bastion of civilised humanity for a long distance in any direction. Each self-contained biodome that connected to the core via huge conduits provided an indefinite supply of food and water.

The Zoners were a strange culture. They tolerated all races, all clans, all allegiances. But they would not tolerate violence of any kind on Freeports throughout Sirius, or in any space within two klicks of a Freeport. They were proud of their neutrality and fiercely defended their independence, assisted by their advanced tech and access to the best civilian Very Heavy Fighter available made them powerful guardians of their home.

Tanya, along with several other members of the Orbital Spa & Cruise company docked several hours ago. They had been given 12 hours R&R, or rest and recuperate. Or 'rock and roll'. Or 'ruck and riot', as some of the more excitable and rowdy pilots suggested. The young pilot had chosen to find a quiet bar, that overlooked the Amarus Gas Cloud. She had seen several Corsair ships take off in that direction and heard rumours that the jump hole to the Corsairs home system, Omicron Gamma lay deep within the cloud.

The bar itself was simple, clean and mostly empty. Just what Tanya needed right now. It was, however, off the 'recommended entertainment area' list but Tanya felt it was sufficiently safe for her to hideaway a couple of hours. An hour before, the pilots were debriefed. A flight of Orbital Spa pilots flew back to the Vanguard position, but found only ruined escape pods, wreckage and the remains of the dead pilots. She almost cried when the wing announced there were no survivors. Tanya took a sip from her drink, Sigma Blue, a refreshing peppermint mixture, then swiftly took another sip from a Hok-Kaido, a drink hailing from Kusari space made from 'lemongrass'; it was Kenji's favourite.

She put both glasses down on her table and sighed. If Montgomery had let her go back, perhaps she had a chance to save Kenji. Her friend's last communications were troubling Tanya immensely, what new ships had Kenji referred to? Why were they attacking Orbital Spa & Cruise ships? What were these 'purple' weapons? Tanya was curious, but the desire to find answers hadn't outweighed her grief, yet.

While lost in thought, she didn't notice a group of rough-looking men enter the bar. They were speaking in a language she hadn't heard before, yet somehow understood. The words drifted in and out of her consciousness.

Shortly, one of the group, four in all, had approached her booth and put a hand on her table, speaking in rough universal common.

"Hey, senorita. Do I know you? I have not seen you here before. Are you travelling? Sightseeing? Want to experience some of the local..culture?" he asked, his tone was suggestive. The other three men nearby laughed. Tanya looked up at him.

"Sit down," she said smoothly. The men behind him cheered. He looked at them and winked. Tanya looked up at him over the edge of her Sigma Blue, her green eyes, now no more than narrowed slits fixed on his. "How can I help you?" she asked softly. He leaned in closer.

"I want you. We all want you. We have been following you," he said heavily.

"Oh. That's good to know," she replied, putting the drink down. "And what do you want me for?" she asked, holding to his gaze.

"For..very bad things," he leaned even closer. "We will make you have good time, lady," he smiled revealing broken and discoloured teeth. His breath reeked of alcohol.

A voice sliced into her thoughts, a distant voice. "Training, Training, Training. You are the best. No fear. No remorse." Tanya paused for a moment, her expression changed suddenly, her voice changing, becoming colder, like ice.

"No. You smell," she replied. The man's face was frozen in place as though struck, then suddenly the corners of his mouth turned into a sneer.

"You think to stop me and my boys? You have big 'cohones' for a skinny girl," he said through gritted teeth. The veins at his temples began to throb. The group behind him stopped laughing and moved closer to her booth, sensing violence. Tanya glanced around quickly and noticed the other patrons of the bar were moving away from her subtly.

"If I had cohones, they would be bigger than yours, amigo," said Tanya. "If you want me, you have to take me!" she said and slid of our booth taking a step back. Her hands were loose by her sides.

Deep inside, Tanya's inner voice was screaming; 'What are you doing girl? There are four of them, one of you, they are men, they are stronger, you are weaker, how will you beat them?' Another voice spoke back calmly; 'Trust your training, believe in yourself. Focus your grief, let go your rage'.

"Well, are you going to just stand there?" she challenged. The first man snarled and leapt at her, lust and anger in his eyes.

Both his arms grabbed her by the shoulders, he would take her on the booth table, here and now!

She had underestimated his strength, Tanya found herself being pushed back and raised her arms to prevent him from touching her chest, but twisted suddenly pivoting on the heel of her back foot, the momentum of her assailant's charge carried him past her and into the wall. He smashed his face into the unyielding metal, groaned once then turned around painfully. Tanya noticed he had lost more teeth. He roared and leapt at her again, but this time she stepped in to meet him, ducked under a wild punch and rose swiftly sending her elbow crashing under his chin. Tanya stepped back lithely and swung her other arm around her, the back of her fist catching the side of his jaw, spinning the man off his feet and into a table. He tried to push himself to his feet, but collapsed back and lay still.

The girl looked at the remaining three, the fury in her eyes evident and took a step towards them. The men looked at each other, then charged her together, one tripping over something and tumbled to the ground. She sidestepped quickly and vaulted onto a booth table, lashing out her foot hitting the first in the temple. His head snapped back and dropped without a sound.

Tanya rolled to her feet and blocked a punch then suddenly found herself pinned to the wall, the man had quickly stepped in and grabbed her arms. She moved her head from side-to-side trying to avoid his lips, then without warning snapped her head forwards, bringing her forehead down onto the bridge of the man's nose who stepped back screaming in pain, bringing his hands up to his face trying to step the gush of blood. Tanya sent a right hook, then a left cross into his face, then grabbed his arm and threw him across a set of tables where he too lay still. She looked around and found the other man, who tripped earlier, backing away, fear etched on his face.

"I don't want any trouble, lady!" he stammered. "Don't hurt me!"

She stalked towards him.

"Do you want me?" she whispered. Her right hand came up to her jumpsuit zipper, her fingers slowly closed around it and began to move down. The man's eyes were torn between staring into her eyes and at the ever-increasing sight of her skin, the flush of red at the nape of her neck, heading down towards her bosom. Tanya stepped closer.

"Who do you work for?" she asked. The zipper moved lower. The man completely frozen in place couldn't take his eyes off the first signs of her curves.

"Corsairs. I am Corsair," he replied. Tanya was standing so close now, he could smell the scent of her hair, the curves of her breasts so inviting. Suddenly he looked up. Terrified. Her eyes became cold pits.

"I hate Corsairs!" she hissed. Tanya brought the tips of her fingers forwards in a deadly thrust, her long fingers struck his throat like rods of steel, collapsing his windpipe and causing massive internal damage. He staggered back, clawing at his neck desperately trying to free the blockage of his own larynx. He fell to his knees moments later, then to his back, gasping for air as he slowly suffocated, twitched once. Then was still.

Tanya breathed deeply, then adjusted her jumpsuit. She searched the pockets of the fallen men withdrawing several credit sticks. She calmly tied her hair back and walked over to the barman, who stepped back uncertain. He was a heavy-set man in his fifties, but in all his space-faring career had never seen anything like this.

"Can I help you, miss?" he asked nervously. Tanya placed the four cred-sticks on the bar.

"This should pay for the damage. And I also want information," she said evenly. Her eyes had returned to their natural state, a warm green colour.

"Of course, of course. What do you need?" asked the barman slowly taking the sticks from the bar.

"I want to buy an Eagle. Fully loaded. And I want to learn the fastest route to Sigma 19 from here."

"Yes. Yes." replied the barman. "I will give you a name. Jorg Sorenson. Talk to him. He can help. You can find him here," the barman scribbled on a scrap of paper. Tanya took it, reading it over, then looked up.

"The biodomes?" she asked confused.

"Yes. Best place to hide space ships," replied barman. "Foliage makes great cover!"

___

"Your men failed," whispered the man. He watched the young girl walk away from the bar, leaving the carnage behind. Another man stood beside him and shrugged. He was dressed in a jumpsuit similar to the ones worn by Orbital Spa pilots. His red hair shone under the harsh lights.

"So they did. A shame. I paid them a lot to do what I could have done myself," he lit a cigarette.

"Well they failed. We failed. You know what that means? Our superiors don't take failure well," he replied. Red-head nodded.

"No they don't. That is why I shall blame you." The first man twisted in alarm but it was too late. Red-head fired the gun hidden under his jacket and watched as his companion slid to the ground lifelessly, a hole burning in his chest.

He took a few more breaths on his cigarette, then threw it to the ground, then walked in the direction of the biodomes.

___

Tanya found the biodome written on the paper and shown into another world that lived within the shiny walls of Freeport 9. It was a dark, dangerous underworld where anything could be purchased and sold. Using her family account, she bought an Eagle Very Heavy Fighter and had it equipped with the best money could buy. The ship would be ready in approximately three hours. Enough time for her to get some rest and check the nav route she had paid for.

Returning back to her cabin, she noticed a man waving at her. It was Travis.

"Hi Tanya! Want to go for a drink?" he asked smiling. "This Freeport is huge, have you seen such a thing?"

Tanya walked up to him and beamed a smile back. It was good to meet a friendly face, she thought and considered his offer.

"Sure, sleep can wait!" she laughed. "Let's go somewhere local though, please? I've had enough of the more, rustic dining place today."

"Uh, sure. Whatever you want. Dinner too? I walked by this great place a few levels up. The best in Border Worlds cuisine.."

Tanya laughed again.

"This sounds like you're asking me on a date."

"Well maybe it is," he said, giving her his best charming smile. He extended an arm, which Tanya took hold of. She looked him up and down. Travis wasn't unattractive.

"You know, Travis. You have the most wonderful colour hair, you must tell me what dye you use to get that 'red'!"

___


"Kenji, I'm coming for you. Hold on..."

___

(cont'd)

Edited for your reading pleasure



Edited by - Athena on 9/28/2004 1:01:19 PM

Very nice. It's quite a bit darker than most of the fics I've read so far, and that's a good thing. I wouldn't make it any racier though; you may get in trouble. Now, if I may be so bold as to criticize, I must say that the first paragraph needs a little bit of work.

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It was a huge monolithic structure with several branches away from the central core. The space station was located between dangerous gas clouds and asteroid formations. The station was the last outpost of civilised humanity for a long distance in any direction. The self-contained biodomes provided an indefinite supply of food and water, the Zoners with their advanced tech and access to the best civilian Very Heavy Fighter available made them powerful guardians of their home.

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It didn't really grab me. Too many sentences started with "the". I found that once I reached the third "the" in a row, reading became somewhat tiresome. Really, it's a relatively minor thing and you may not agree with me anyway. I'm just putting in my ten cents worth. You're welcome to ignore me if you so desire.

Thanks Code. Hope the new structure reads better.

It won't get racier than what I've written (anymore would be puerile and unnecessary - Freelancer is still a game of harmless fun!). I just wanted to explore an area of the central character's persona and add a bit of 'spice' to the story...

All feedback is welcomed!

Ps: If readers have ideas on what they would like to see in the story please do suggest them. It would be a challenge!

the seal of approval from our resident author Finalday is conformation that this is a great story, keep it up