Tue Feb 08, 2005 1:51 am by The Ninja
1:
He walked down the sterile white corridor of Freeport 4 pouring over the latest reports on pirate activity in Liberty space that he had ‘acquired’ from one of his rather shady contacts in the Liberty Navy.
In his mind, he knew there was something amiss, something awry, while he was avoiding other people in the crowded corridor of the Zoner station.
These reports he had received were labelled ‘Top Secret’, and if Navy Intelligence ever found out about this leak, his contact would definitely be ‘questioned’ on the nearest Liberty cruiser. The information in the report showed that pirate activity had decreased everywhere around Liberty, with the exception of Buffalo Base; a heavily fortified rouge stronghold in the New York Badlands that very few civilians even knew existed. The Navy and Police forces did not usually delve that deep into the dark violet cloud at the bottom of the system. DragonBorn had also found a rather strange intra-system jump-hole that started near the Texas Jump Gate, and spat him back out him near Zone 21, a heavily fortified area guarded by the Liberty Navy. After testing the jump-hole, DragonBorn could barely return through it before a Navy patrol cruised past, searching for any intruders.
As he neared the watering hole on Freeport 4, DragonBorn was surprised to see the doors that were the bars only entrance was closed. To his recollection, the bar was supposed to be open at this time, and there was a small crowd milling around near the entrance.
He questioned a bearded man on what had happened, and he replied in an accent that was clearly Bretonian.
The man replied a negative; he too was puzzled about what was happening inside
“It was like this when I got here.” The man paused for a breath “although… there was some horrid, almost beastly noises emanating from inside" he responded.
DragonBorn had decided that there was no time, and took matters into his own hands. He produced a pulse door breaker, illegal in Liberty at the time, due to its ability to open any blast door given the correct amount of time. He had 'liberated' it from a Navy officer after a scuffle with pirates turned violent. He walked up to the door, placing the device on the seam where the double doors came together, activating it and in a few seconds there was a loud screeching, coming from gears not often, or oiled for that matter. As the doors heaved open, the curious crowd was greeted with a scene would make hardened police officers gasp and less strong men retch; which is exactly what many started doing. Inside the bar was at least 20 or more horribly mutilated bodies, including the bartender, who was slumped over the counter, a vibroblade protruding from his back. In the middle of all this stood a man, no, not a man DragonBorn thought, but a demon, complete with a feverish light in his eyes, not dissimilar to medieval descriptions of possessed individuals.
A commotion in the crowd spread, like a wave, as people began exclaiming the lord’s name in vain.
Staggering, as if drunk, the mystery ‘demon’ started toward the crowd, then suddenly, he collapsed onto the floor, crimson blood pouring from his gaping mouth. DragonBorn quickly rushed forward through the gawking rabble, producing an advanced medical scanner, another tool he had ‘liberated’ from the Liberty Navy. Flicking a set of switches, DragonBorn began to scan the corpse in front of him. He comprehended the readout, then turning toward the crowd, whose jaws were slack on the floor.
”Cardimine withdrawal, Poor bastard went mad trying to find the drug which could sustain his existence, unfortunately, these innocent folks got in the way.”
DragonBorn thought to himself, wondering why such a man, so dependant on the narcotic, did not simply make haste to the nearest criminal base in this or nearby systems. But this was none of his business anyway.
He pushed the button for the intercom, calling in Liberty’s Finest, who would surely be interested in something like this. Let the authorities take care of it; he thought as he headed back toward the hangar bay which contained his pride and joy.
When the doors of the hangar bay opened a sight which chilled his blood awaited him. There, surrounding his ship was 15 daggers, light fighter of the border worlds, and 3 stilettos, the main workhorse in the Outcast’s fleets, both were swift, fast and deadly, and all were aiming directly at his one-of-a-kind fighter. He had built it himself, from blueprints found while hacking into Liberty's databases on Manhattan. The design was definitely not conservative; 4 engines, two stacked on top of each other, with two engines on either side of the cockpit, a wing between the engines and the cockpit, and one below the bottom engines, the main controlling surface. On the back, behind the cockpit, the body sloped down into a oval-shaped tail. Originally it had been designed with a jump drive, but that had not yet been developed, so instead, he had increased the size of the reactor, gaining an output 2 times more powerful than a standard titan class generator, as the weapons used on it would need the extra power to operate at peak efficiency.
But even the most advanced armour and shields could not save his unique ship from the devastating force in front of him, all with pilots whose trigger fingers were scarred with a permanent rash, all eager to blast his ship into oblivion. Without its shields, the ship would disintegrate under the red-hot barrage of destructive energy. DragonBorn quickly pulled out a remote control, allowing him limited control over the systems on-board. He activated the shields, and ran towards his ship, frantically trying to open the small tinted glass canopy, which, with a whine of hydraulic systems did so, and he leaped for it, the Outcasts beginning to unleash a hail of fire at his small fighter. Frantically pushing another button on the remote control, DragonBorn instructed the on-board computer to 'eliminate' any threat to its well being, or its pilot. Molten plasma and metallic bolts emanated from the hangar, as the outcasts were scattered, and Dragonborn began firing his ship’s cannons, which were codenamed 'Azure Fire' for some reason. Stunned, the Outcasts tried to flee, but the advanced firepower contained in DragonBorn’s ship proved too much for them.
DragonBorn began to contemplate the day’s events; the man in the bar, now a gaggle of Outcasts waiting for him outside Freeport 4… There was some connection, but he dismissed it as a coincidence. He set his course for the old Magellan to New York jump gate, activating his advanced cruise and instructing his neural interface to alert him when he arrived, or if hostiles were detected. It was not in his nature to run, but his ship had one terrible weakness. The shield technology, while it may have been advanced for its class, was still vulnerable. A couple of fully armed sabres could still take him down easily, with very little casualties. DragonBorn sat back and relaxed, relishing the quiet, but little did he know this would be on of the last times he would be able to relax for awhile...
-:-
God is dead, and no-one cares.