"Now to Leipzig" were Hans' words before something came on his comm screen.

"Hans Jurgan,you're needed on Vogtland,please proceed to dock" a gruffed voice said,Hans knew that voice.

VOGTLAND

"Ah-there you are,Hans" said an old and tiring voice,which Hans immediatly knew as Commander Von Hagel.

"Or should i say,Colonel Jurgan?" Von Hagel corrected himself

"Sir,whatever do you mean?" Hans asked

"Your being promoted young man!"

"And getting a brand new ship as well!" He added

"Sir, who will i be commanding?" Hans once again asked

"You will be commanding Battle Group Iota"

"And what of my new ship?"

"A brand new Sabre,already outfitted with the best weapons the Red Hessians have to offer"

"Thank you Commander!" Hans said,saluting to the aging Hessian

"Good....Now your first assingment is to meet up with your group on the far-side of New Berlin,there you will takeout a cruiser that is floundering from our last attack from Group Delta,which retreated because of casualties,luckily they knocked out the engines and communications and also destroyed the escorts" The Hessian said

NEW BERLIN SYSTEM,RHEINLAND SPACE

"Okay heres the plan,Iota 2 thru 4,you guys fire the Lancer missiles,will distract the turrets"

20 minutes later-

"Good work men,Iota 2,any casualties?"

"No,sir"

"Good now we head to Freital in Omega-11"

FREITAL BASE,OMEGA SYSTEMS

"Everyone dock,weve got a week of BYE to spend!"

After the briefing by Rob ended and the group began exiting the bar, Hahukum Konn noticed Rob waving at the bartender in a rather rude manner, and restrained a laugh.

Hahukum went to his Humpback to do a check-out and ensure that nothing was wrong with it. Yes, it had been repaired, but it never hurt to double-check. Especially when you might notice something which would have ruined your life in outer space.

Once the preflight check was done, Konn pinged Rob’s Neural Net, informing the latter that he was ready to take off. Shortly afterwards, the intership radio came on, and Rob’s image showed on the HUD.

“ Got your message. You leave first, escorted by Captain Downing and his associates. Then I’ll follow, and the armored transports will trail you to New Berlin. So you’ll be the head of our little convoy.”

“Roger, Rob. See you in space, old chap. ” Konn grinned, and then cut the connection.

He powered up the Humpback, and radioed Downing and Co. to enter formation with him once in space. The take-off was smooth, and New London space was normal. The convoy docked with the trade lane heading to Cambridge, and just as the trade lane accelerated them, Konn’s contact list showed Rob’s Falcon and the armored transports beginning to converge onto the trade lane ring.

Amazingly, through Omega-3 and Omega-7, nobody disturbed the convoy or its immediate followers. There was some minor difficulty when a Rheinland Police patrol in Stuttgart at Ulm Border Station insisted on knowing what their business was. Difficulties were quickly smoothed out when the Police officer noticed that his scan had mistakenly stated that the Humpback held Beryllium instead of Gold and Diamonds.

Hahukum said, “Yes, we’ve run into a few difficulties before, my good man. As you can see, this convoy is needed for heavy security, as we are making a run all the way to Kusari. My benefactor wishes this shipment to be escorted in full , and will be very unhappy if any of it goes missing. He has thus arranged for this group of ships and transports in the unlikely event that someone is foolish enough to attack me.”

The Police officer, a bit overawed, stuttered and said, “Ah. Ja , that is fine. That is fine. Continue on, then.”

“My pleasure. I’ve got to get a move on and dock with the trade lane, if you don’t mind.”

And so saying, the convoy continued onwards to New Berlin. Once on New Berlin, it was a matter of a few moments to pocket an extra two hundred thousand credits for the Beryllium, and then pick up about ten more cargo holds of pharmaceuticals. Once Konn got back to the spaceport, he saw the Special Branch troops and Rob milling around.

Some troops, he saw, were already prepping themselves for any EVA by changing into special zero-G spacesuits, which resembled a modified BAF uniform, with visible joints where the elbows, waist and legs were, complete with form-fitting helmet, whose transparent-polymer front had a special polarizable component to allow it to block inbound solar radiation to some extent. The suit itself would block moderate amounts of the radiation often extant in most of the radiation zones scattered throughout Sirius, although even the special suits would be almost useless in the Pequena Negra and Grande Negra clouds of Texas. You needed special lead-covered suits for those.

Konn had the dock loader leave the last pallet of pharmaceuticals on the ground, and cracked open the box. He took three bottles for himself, just in case, and then handed out two each to Downing and Co. Then, he pinged Rob’s Neural Net again, relaying brief instructions. He passed on instructions to the four SB commanding officers, and efficiently, a line-up formed next to the Humpback. Each Special Branch troop got two bottles with instructions to take a pill as soon as they entered Omicron Beta, and again just before going EVA. If they needed extra pills, their own judgement would call for when to use one.

After two or three hours, everybody was prepped and ready to go. Rob spoke briefly to Konn, Downing and the three lieutenants. He reminded them about the hour’s time difference, and said, “Konn, I’ll upload you a set of waypoints. Just follow them, and they’ll get you to our suspected Outcast base location.”

“Excellent. See you over there.”

Rob and his convoy of armored troops took off, and then an hour later, Hahukum and his convoy left New Berlin. Once in the trade lane heading to Frankfurt, Konn quickly reset his scanner jammer to show an assortment of legitimate-sounding cargoes, such as some Copper, Scrap Metal, and so on.

On the way through Frankfurt, Konn remembered vaguely some things about Damien and Nikolai. Didn’t Rob say they were part of the Bundschuh? He recalled their base being somewhere in this system. He imagined that the Junkers were probably having a field day picking over the remains of the Rheinland fleet that had been ambushed near the Jump Gate. Scrap metal, free for the taking. Darn. The trader in him knew that stuff wasn’t too profitable, but some bases would pay a decent price for the stuff, and you could make a few thousand credits on a low-risk shipment.

But we have a mission. Stay focussed.

As the ship entered Sigma-13, the trip got dicier, because the star system was completely hidden in the blue mist and the debris that occasionally littered parts of the system could prove a hazard to the automatic navigation system if it were to overcompensate for an impact. The tension mounted as the poor visibility extended to the poor range for the contact list, and occasionally ships would blip onto the list, and then back off. Finally, at the Jump Hole to Sigma-19, one by one all the ships filtered through.

Once in Sigma-19, the path went directly galactic east of the Jump Hole. They were to head obliquely past Planet Hiran (minus one Orbital Spa & Cruise ship), and then once at a point well galactic east of either of the two suns, the waypoint ended in a greenish cloud marked on the nav map. Konn knew nothing about it, and could only presume that it portended danger. He swallowed a pill, just in case.

Some time later, it was indeed the case that the forbidding green cloud was dangerous, The radiation warning flashed continually, and the occasional Outcast ship blipped on the contact list. At the Jump Hole, Hahukum took a deep breath, hit nanobots, shield batteries and then hit “Dock”. As he passed through, he thought, This is it, my friends.

---

Summary: The calm before the storm.

The Humpback and BAF escorts entered the swirling green gas cloud that was Omicron Beta. The first rude surprise was a lone Outcast preparing to go the other way. It showed red on Konn’s contact list, and he didn’t bother thinking. He just hammered the guy with all weapons, and the escorting ships did the same. Two minutes later, one Outcast became space dust.

Konn set up a secure channel, and sent a quick, low-power message. “Right, gentlemen. Form up with me, and we’ll go to cruise velocity.”

The remainder of the journey was spent in a tense silence as they reached a waypoint which was almost directly galactic south of the final waypoint. Konn surmised that Rob wanted them to avoid another base, known as Ruiz, in the area. He would later find that this was correct.

When the distance gauge read “6 K”, the pea soup began to show murky shapes which shortly materialized into a gigantic fleet of ships and cruisers and what looked like a small supply base for them all. Bugger all, what in space..? Konn saw several red contacts beginning to move towards him, and turned his ship away, now on manual control.

He got on the comms and radioed the opposing ships. “Look, gentlemen, I got lost. Okay? I’m leaving. See?”

No response. Damn. Konn turned up the gain to maximum, set the radio to send on every conceivable communications channel, and bellowed down the mike. “Listen, you stupid sods, I’m telling the Bretonian authorities about this! I’m a Bretonian subject and I’ll be damned if you idiots’ll keep those ships! I’m radioing everyone in the area!” His outrage wasn’t all feigned, either.

Still no answer.

Time for the code signal. “Why does this stuff always happen to me?”

He heard Downing’s voice on the radio. ”By the way, did any of you have a mother who married a Corsair?”

At that point, some more red contacts started moving towards them.

Konn got in on it and said, “Do you Cardamine-huffers know you look really stupid wearing those masks?”

By now about ten or fifteen or who knew how many ships were chasing after the Humpback which appeared to have “blundered” into the midst of a portion of the Bretonian fleet, and firing willy-nilly at the Humpback and its escorts. Konn jinked every which way, and he could see the other four ships doing so as well. He’d already gone through three mines, and was dropping a fourth one when ”shields failed” was heard. He smacked the shields restore button, and put the Humpback through a very dangerous-looking S-curve straight up from the plane of the system, then levelled back out and saw an Outcast ship below. He aimed and poured on the energy until the startled Outcast figured out where it was coming from and jinked up to fire at the Humpback. Then Konn hit thrusters, and veered through the rocks and debris, only occasionally glancing the Humpback off something.

The next several minutes were spent undergoing more tense maneuvers, made very difficult because a Humpback wasn’t a Crusader. Luckily, the reserve of nanobots and shield batteries held out, and Hahukum heard the radio bleep and Downing saying, “A gunboat?! Nobody told me we'd be chased by a sodding gunboat !”

Konn hit engine kill, turned his ship around, and saw a stolen Bretonian gunboat over to his right, with two Crusaders trying to take potshots at it. He decided the hell with it, and hit thrusters to help out. As the gunboat got within range, he fired all his weapons at the gunboat, and as he sailed over top, dropped a mine. Then his attention was taken away by some Outcast ships firing at him, and he had to engage in some more evasive maneuvering.

”I’m down! No bots or batteries le—“ came over the speakers, and Hahukum could see that Straybeck’s ship had gone off his contact list. Bugger. That’s one dead Outcast when I get done with him! Konn saw the exploding Crusader, and hit thrusters. The pair of Outcasts fired at the Humpback, nearly using up all the shields as he flew past, pouring on the energy. Engine kill, turn around, blast away. One Outcast finally bit the dust, but that still meant who knew how many left and at least one very nasty gunboat.

What seemed like hours of this passed by, as Konn used every trick he could remember to try and keep the Humpback together. But the battle of attrition was overwhelmingly in the Outcasts’ favor, and Warburton was the next to fall by the way.

Finally, at long last, the welcomed message was heard from Rob. “Ships and fleet secured! Get back here, you guys!”

Hahukum poured on the thrusters in the direction of the last waypoint, and jinked through the rocks as best he could in the Humpback. He could see Downing and Riley following, and hoped to all blazes they could get back before anyone else got blown up. Hopefully the battleship will chop these buggers to smithereens…

---

Summary: Konn's part of the whole thing. Lots of ships, shrapnel and weapon blasts flying around.

Note: Significant update at the end of the post.

- - - -

Rob had taken every precaution to ensure that he and his forces would not be detected in Omicron Beta. Their path swung far behind Planet Elysium, its bulk shielding the the ships from Ruiz's scanners. The riskiest leg of the journey took Rob and the Special Branch forces close to the jumphole to Omicron Alpha. Rob flew point, well in front of the main formation and when he was satisfied that the coast was indeed clear, the Armored Transports followed. Then it was only a short while before the convoy arrived at their hold-short location. They waited for Konn's transmission.

Rob reviewed the plan of action in his mind. He checked and rechecked his weapons. Primary was a high-powered plasma rifle, somewhat prone to overheating, but in the cold vacuum of space such concerns were all but irrelevant. It carried a special attachment which fired a small piercing grapple connected to a cable similar to those used in docking rings. The boarders would use that piece of equipment to latch onto their target ships. He also carried his trademark energy pistols and enough explosives to level a small city. The general consensus amongst the commandos was that their mission would not involve any pussyfooting. They were going to hit fast and hit hard.

In the middle of his third check, Rob's comm crackled to life. “Why doe ... s ... uff al ... ha ... en ... me?” The signal was weak, and the transmission garbled by so much background radiation, but the message was clear. The fleet was where it had been expected, the Outcasts had taken the bait, and the mission was a go.

Rob kicked his fighter into cruise and raced straight for the massed group of Bretonian ships. A quick check revealed that the Special Branch forces were not far behind. In order to make sure there would be no unpleasant surprises when he went EV, Rob vented the Falcon's cabin atmosphere. His suit's readouts all indicated optimal performance. He readied his plasma rifle and, a look of fierce determination on his face, prepared to ditch his ship.

Seconds later the distinctive shapes of the Bretonian ships came into view. Rob knew that by now his Special Branch allies would be ready to go EV. He angled his fighter towards the closest battleship and prepared to engage any Outcast fighters that remained behind to protect the fleet. There were none. And four gunboats had disappeared as well. What the hell did Konn and his boys say? Rob wondered.

He didn't have time to pursue the thought though because just then the stolen crafts' flak cannons began to fire. The shots were sluggish and off-target though. Automated firing program. Ships are running on skeleton crews. Excellent.

Rob pushed his fighter into a downward spiral towards the “can-opener” end of the battleship; he intended to set it down in the protected area just behind the bridge. A flash of movement caught the freelancer's eye. He turned his head just in time to see the first Special Branch soldier rocket past, reeling himself towards one of the cruisers. The soldier offered Rob a thumbs-up and Rob returned the gesture.

The battleship, HMS Coventry, loomed ever closer and Rob prepared for a full reverse burn. Just as a collision seemed unavoidable, Rob fired his retro-thrusters and came to a stop just short of his target. The Falcon's shields sizzled and popped but held firm as they took a full blast from one of the capital ship's port flak cannons. Rob tapped his thruster once and slid into the safe zone. The magnetic clamps on the Falcon's underside activated and grasped firmly the battleship's hull plating. Rob blew his canopy and jumped from the fighter, rifle in hand. The nearest entrance point was a service hatch not 10 meters away. Rob leapt towards it and, catching its hand-hold with his free hand swung down. His boots magnetic soles let him stand straight on the surface of the ship. He pulled a breaching charge from his belt, primed it and placed it on the hatch.

The freelancer took a step back and brought his rifle to bear on the door. The charge flashed white and the hatch disappeared into the ship. Atmosphere began to vent from the open hatch and Rob pulled himself into the belly of the ship. Though his helmet muffled all noise, Rob could hear the sir screaming as it left the ship and the sound of alarms blaring. Voices cried out in Spanish “¡Comandos! ¡Comandos!”

Rob rolled out of the service duct and into a room where chaos reigned supreme. Outcasts ran around like Junkers in a jewelry shop, only without the glee. They frantically fumbled at putting vacsuits on but the air was already so thin that their coordination and manual dexterity were not up to scratch. None even noticed Rob appear, despite his distinctive red and white armor.

For the freelancer that amounted to simple good fortune and he wasn't about to waste it. He brought his gun to bear on the nearest hostile and pulled the trigger. The man flew backwards, a smoking hole where his chest should have been. Then another crumpled, headless, to the floor. That got the remaining pirates' attention. None were in any condition to fight back though. Rob lashed out at those nearest him with his rifle, sending them crashing to the deck. Those further away scrabbled for their sidearms, but to no avail. They fell under a blistering barrage of plasma.

Once all the immediate threats had been dealt with, Rob contacted his team. “Rob here, I'm in. Level, um,” Rob double-checked the ship schematic he had uploaded into the suit's onboard memory, “level 5. Met minimal Outcast resistance on ingress. They don't seem prepared. Keep your heads up though. Whatever surprise we had is gone. Expect heavy resistance.

“If you have not yet done so, turn your IFF transponders. You should be able to see where everyone is now. Find the nearest friendly and link up, then I want you all to make you way to the bridge.”

Rob heard ten double-taps over the comm. “Do not, I repeat, do not enter the bridge until a team of at least five has assembled.”

After a brief assessment of the situation, Rob saw that his closest ally was two levels below and near a lift. The tag indicated one Private J. Wells. Rob activated his comm.

“Wells, Rob here. I'm two levels above you. Hold position. I'll come down to meet you.”

“Roger that, sir. Holding position. You'll take the lift?”

“No, Private. My route will be a touch more direct.” Rob unclipped a special device, resembling a very fancy toilet-plunger, from his suit. He set it on the floor, base down and pressed a button on the device's top. Four 50 centimeter arms, each with a small but powerful cutting laser on the tip, sprang out from their recessed slots. The apparatus quickly began to spin, faster and faster until the arms were barely visible blurs. The cutting lasers flashed, releasing mircosecond blasts of energy and burned through the metal deck. A small but powerful shaped charge located in the base of the device went off, blasting the weakened hull plating downward with great force. Rob tossed two disorientation grenades into the new hole and jumped in himself, his rifle ready.

What Rob saw gave the freelancer pause. The room was empty, but it had not always been so. Blood stained the walls and streaked the ceiling while pools of not-quite-coagulated gore quickly froze as the atmosphere vented through the series of holes Rob had made in the battleship.

“Son of a b*tch.” Rob retrieved the breacher and inserted another charge into the base. “Wells. I'll be down in five. Don't shoot anything that falls through the ceiling.”

“Roger.”

The breacher flashed and blew again and Rob jumped through the hole. Private Wells was waiting, rifle held across his chest. He snapped a smart salute when Rob stood. “Sir.”

“Not necessary, Private.” Rob said, smiling behind this helmet. “But I appreciate the gesture. Let's move. I'll take point, you cover me.”

“Yessir.” Private Wells raised his rifle and tucked its stock into his shoulder. Rob did the same. Private Wells covered the door from the right as Rob moved into position on the left. He tapped the door's console and it slid open. Private Wells' rifle spouted angry yellow bursts of energy and burned two Outcasts down at the waist. “Clear.”

Rob nodded and spun into the hallway, his plasma rifle sweeping the area for hostiles. A group of soldiers rounded the corner, attracted by the noise of atmosphere venting into space. Rob fired his gun at the oncoming pirates and was soon joined by Wells. They cut four Outcasts down and forced the rest to take cover back around the corner. Rob pulled an incendiary grenade free and launched it – hard – at the wall at the far end of the corridor. The explosive bounced off the wall and fell to the floor. There were brief muffled cries and then a brilliant white explosion. The visor on Rob's helmet polarized to protect his retinas but Rob still found himself squinting.

He raced down the hall towards the corner, Wells a few paces behind. The grenade had worked perfectly. No pirate had survived. The sound of air escaping the hull was fading rapidly. Soon, Rob expected, any unsecured areas of the ship would be without air.

He quickly moved towards the lift at the end of the hall. No hostiles were in sight. He pressed the call button for the lift and waited for it to arrive. Seconds later it did, both Rob and Wells readier their rifles and stepped back. The door opened and a blast of air rushed out. The Outcasts who had taken refuge inside the small pod stumbled out, mouths open in silent screams. Wells “put them out of their misery”.

Stepping over the charred corpses, Rob and Private Wells entered the lift. Rob punched the console and the lift whisked its occupants to level 3. The door opened with a soft whoosh. Still have atmospheric integrity here. Better change that.

Neither Rob nor Private Wells saw any sign of nearby Outcasts so they turned their guns on the nearest window. The transparent metal began to glow, first red, then yellow, then white. Rivulets ran down the pane and the viewport began to bulge. Then, with a crack, the pressure differential blasted the weakened window open and atmosphere once again vented into space.

That got the attention of some nearby Outcasts. And these were ready for battle. Outfitted in vacsuits and bearing arms, the pirates closed from both sides, forcing Rob and Wells to retreat back into the lift for safety.

“Hold this.” Rob said and tossed Wells his rifle. “On my mark, jump out and open fire with both.” Rob unholstered his energy pistols and flipped the safeties off. He inched one of his hands around the corner and began to blast away, forcing the Outcasts to scatter.

“NOW!” Rob yelled. He launched out of the lift, guns blazing. Wells did the same, laying down a withering spray of plasma. It was a dangerous game, and everyone involved knew it. The loss of pressure meant that even a graze could prove fatal. If a person's vacsuit lost integrity, death would be all but unavoidable. The Outcasts, knowing they had the numbers advantage took cover to regroup.

That would be their last mistake. Rob had expected them to do just that and had a plan. “Frag it!” He shouted. In unison, he and Wells tossed fragmentation grenades down the hall and dove back into the lift. The door slid shut and Rob counted to five.

“Should be long enough, sir.” Wells said.

“Right.” Rob replied and holstered his pistols. “I'll take my rifle back now.”

The private handed Rob the plasma gun which Rob quickly inspected. The lift's door slid open once more and thrust the rifle out, stock first. When no shots were fired Wells slowly inched his helmeted head out and looked around. “All hostiles neutralized, sir.”

“Good.” Rob pulled his gun back in and spun it so that the barrel pointed away from the freelancer. “Bridge isn't far. Left down the hall, left at the second corner and straight for 20 meters. Time for a sit-rep.” Rob fiddled with the comm settings for a second. “All forces, this is Rob, check in.”

“Private Machray. I'm with Dobson and Smith. We are near the engine room. We have encountered heavy resistance but no casualties so far. The Outcasts just keep coming though. I don't think we'll make it to the bridge.”

“That's fine,” said Rob. “You hang tight there. The freaks are probably trying to sabotage the ship so we can't escape. Make sure they don't.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay. Anyone near them?” Rob asked.

“Yes, sir. Corporal Franklin here. Private Howard and I are three decks above the engine room.”

“Good. Link up with Machray and her team. Hold the engine room.”

“Of course, sir.”

“And the rest?” Rob said.

“We're holding just outside at the bridge, sir.” Sergeant Phillips said. “When can we expect you?”

“Less than a minute.” Rob answered.

“Good. I'll make sure the boys don't kill you then.” It sounded to Rob as though the Sergeant was smiling. “We have the hallways covered.”

“Of course you do Sergeant.” Rob said. “We'll be right there. Let's get moving, Private.”

Rob and Private Wells dashed through the corridors of the HMS Coventry as fast as they were able to in their bulky vacsuits. As Sergeant Phillips had said, the bridge corridor was covered; one commando was posted at each corner. The doors to the bridge itself were closed however.

“Good thing you brought Wells,” said the sergeant.

“Oh, why's that?” Rob asked.

“He's our techno-weenie. See, the doors are locked. But if there's any way to get them open, Wells'll be the one to find it.”

“I see.” Rob said. “To be honest though, I was just going to blow them. No sense in being polite, is there?”

“In this case, actually, there is.” Sergeant Phillips said. “Bretonian ships have scissor-doors to all sensitive locations to ensure breaching charges don't work.”

“Scissor-doors? I'm not sure I follow.” Rob said.

“Essentially two overlapping doors which open in different directions. You might be able to take one out, but not both. Not with the explosives we have here. We'll have to be polite.”

“Oh. Okay then. Wells!”

“Sir?”

“Get cracking on the door's console. We need it open, now.” Rob said.

“Yes, sir. On it, sir.” The private pulled a series of tools from his pack and set to work on the door. Rob had never seen anyone wok so fast. It probably helped that Wells was working with a very familiar setup, but his speed was impressive nevertheless. In less than a minute the commando had rerouted door controls to an impromptu control panel. “Done.”

“Good show, Wells,” said Phillips. She left her position and walked over to the door. “Do they know?”

Wells snorted. “Do they know? Here I am, top of the electronic engineering class at Cambridge and she asks me if they know? I tell you, it's almost more than a man can bear.”

“Oh stuff it, Wells. You know I have to ask.” Phillips chuckled. “I take it they're none the wiser.”

“Yes ma'am.”

“Very good,” said the sergeant. “Rob, you and I will provide covering fire. Adams will enter first, then Wells. Brown and Montgomery will move in from their current positions and lay down additional fire that Rob and I might get in. They will cover our rear flank until the room is secure. Everyone get that?”

“Yes ma'am.” The four lower-ranked soldiers said in unison.

“Positions!” Phillips yelled. Rob stood a few steps back and to the left of the door, Sergeant Phillips mirrored him to the right. Adams crouched in front, ready to roll underneath the covering fire. Wells stood by to open the door, and Brown and Montgomery held positions at the corners.

“Ready?” Rob asked.

“Sir, yes sir!” The commandos said.

“Then let's go. Open on three.” Rob said. “One. Two. Three.”

At three Rob's finger tightened on the plasma rifle's trigger. The door to the bridge slid open and his gunfire poured inside as air rushed out.. On cue, Private Adams rolled in and opened fire with his gun. Rob saw a few Outcasts fall in the few seconds it took for the assault to begin. The rest dove for cover wherever they could find it.

Adams took up a position behind a bulkhead separating two banks of computers, occasionally raking the bridge with fire. Out of the corner of his eye, Rob saw three Outcasts advancing on the commando's position.

“Wells!” He yelled. “Covering fire! Adams' 8 o'clock!”

Wells nodded and dove into the room. He raised his gun and opened fire on the advancing pirates. Most fell immediately but one managed to bring his gun to bear on the Bretonian soldier. The Outcast's energy blaster loosed a series of bolts before the Hispanian fell under Wells' shots. The commando was about to stand when Rob noticed gas venting from a hole in the man's suit's shoulder.

“Sh*t! Wells! Your suit is compromised!” Rob yelled. “Right shoulder. Find cover and patch it. Now!”

“Brown! Montgomery! Get up here now!” Sergeant Phillips yelled. “Rob and I need in! Cover us!”

The two other Special Branch troops abandoned their posts and ran to replace Rob and Phillips. A tap on the shoulder told Rob that his backup was in position. Rob dove forward and rolled into the room. He sprayed fire just above a bank of computers, sending two or three Outcasts ducking for cover.

Wells was fumbling with a patch, trying desperately to close off the leak. Rob rushed over to take a look and try to help.

Oh god. The damage was worse than Rob had thought. The shot had burned a 5 centimeter hole in the vacsuit and seriously damaged the surrounding material. Air continued to vent and Rob could see a half-frozen wound in the man's shoulder. Blood continued to trickle down Wells' arm.

“I'm cold.” Private Wells said. Rob looked up at the man, his eyes were glassy and his face was beginning to turn purple.

“Hold on Wells.” Rob said. “I'll patch you up. You just keep your hand on that hole, okay?” The freelancer pulled his own suit's patching kit and pulled out a strip of material and some adhesive.

“I.... can't...” Wells' breathing was heavy, labored. “It's just so cold.”

“Hold ON Wells! Stay with me here. Sh*t!” An energy blast flashed over Rob's head, forcing him to duck down further. “You're going to be fine. Just keep your hand over that hole, soldier!”

“I.... my eyes!” Wells cried. The lack of air made his voice sound tinny and distant. “I can't see! I can't f*cking see anything!” He let go of his vacsuit with his good hand and tried to rub them, but all that did was allow the last of his suit's oxygen to blast out.

At that point Rob knew the young man was going to die. He looked up and saw Wells' mouth working, trying desperately to scream for help, to get some air, anything. But the young commando was beyond all help. He thrashed about for a few seconds then was still.

“DAMMIT!!!” Rob roared. He jumped up, ready to blast the nearest Outcast past oblivion when he noticed that the shooting had stopped. The four other troops stood in the middle of the bridge, weapons ready. The battle to recapture the Coventry was over.

- - - -

The Outcasts had had to leave the HMS Coventry's – and all the other ships' – automated defense systems offline until they could be reprogrammed. Fortunately, Rob and his forces had arrived before the electronics crews had been able to do their work, so the security systems were still keyed to BAF settings. The first to realize this was one Corporal Mike Healings, team lead for the group tasked to capture the cruiser HMS Lancaster. He relayed this information to Rob who immediately ordered that all ships be locked down once the bridge and engine room were secured.

The precaution wasn't really necessary for the gunboats, but it always paid to be careful. Certainly the larger cruisers and battleships, not having been thoroughly swept for hostiles, would need to be locked down. The commandos couldn't both run the ship and fight off constant attacks.

With this in mind, the appropriate codes were entered and all key components of the ships were sealed off. To make things doubly difficult for any surviving Outcasts, all non-essential systems were shut down. Any who were without appropriate vacsuits would soon find themselves without air or a place to go. Those with vacsuits would have air, though that would only result in their being captured once the BAF was able to properly reclaim the ships. Many Outcasts, not being particularly enamored of the notion of capture, would most likely choose death over captivity. At least, that was Rob's hope.

“Sir!” Private Mongomery called. “The gunboats still under Outcast control are coming about. They know something is wrong.”

“Blow them away.” Rob said. He opened a channel to the entire Special Branch contingent. “Switch IFF settings to standard BAF frequency and wipe out anything that registers as hostile.”

A chorus of “Yes, sirs!” echoed over the comm line and, not two seconds later, two battleships, five cruisers, and four gunboats began to rain fire down onto the unlucky remaining four Outcast gunboats. None survived the fusillade for more than ten seconds. Each exploded is a brilliant pyrotechnic display, shards of metal glittering for a moment before disappearing into the thick green clouds of Omicron Beta.

“Right.” Rob said. “I'm gonna go now.”

“Go?” Sergeant Phillips asked. “Go where? Go how?”

“Go to my Falcon.” Rob answered. He pointed his rifle at the bridge's forward window and smiled. “Go through there.”

“Ah, I see.” The Sergeant nodded. “Gun will take a while. Here, use my Breacher.”

“Thanks.” Rob said. “I guess you won't be needing it now, huh?” He walked over to the large window and, using a fast-setting adhesive, stuck the device onto the transparent material. Once again, it began to spin, once again the cutting lasers flashed and once again the explosive detonated. A roughly circular panel exploded away from the ship and rocketed into the distance. Rob clambered through the new hole and on to the exterior of the battleship.

Aided by his magnetized footwear and some creative rappelling, Rob made it back to his Falcon just under a minute later. He had grown accustomed to wearing the vacsuit, so he didn't bother repressurizing the fighter. Rather, he just patched his suit's comm into the Falcon's systems and powered the fighter up.

Once he was safe and securely away from the lumbering form of the Bretonian battleship, Rob contacted Konn. “Ships and fleet secured! Get back here, you guys!”

Switching over to the BAF frequency, Rob warned the Special Branch forces of the impending company. “Get ready fellas, things are about to get hot! Prepare to throw up a wall of fire roughly galactic South once our boys are out of your firing arcs. Hopefully we'll be able to take a bunch of the muties by surprise.”

Rob stelled himself in his cockpit and prepared for the imminent dogfight. One Falcon, one Humpback, four Crusaders max, and a bunch of way undermanned capital ships against space-knows-how-many Outcast fighters and four gunboats? I like those odds.

UPDATED Summary: Rob takes part in the battle to capture the Battleship HMS Coventry. The op succeeds but one person dies. Preparations are made for the upcoming space battle with the remaining Outcast forces. Rob returns to his Falcon and waits.

Edited by - Codename on 7/3/2005 9:15:17 PM

OOC: Here we go, hope this works


IC:

“...and leaving hundreds killed, the strange battle still not solved. Now going to sports” The TV boomed out across the New Berlin star-port bar.

Dev was seated on a stool up front sipping Rhienlander wheat beer. He always chuckled when he made the news. Of course this time it was less then funny, he had lost everything but his pistol and sword in the attack. The fact was, he needed cash badly.

Dev sighed and pulled out his laptop. Checking the bounty list a familiar name caught his eye. “Amy something or other i remember you...” Dev mumbled quietly. Checking the roster list for those who were on the job his eyes went wide. Only one other person had decided to make a dead easy 10 million, and it was someone Dev knew.

Jacob Todd, he considered the name generic and dull. But it so happened that Jacob was a patron of a s****y New Berlin club and did most of his tracking there. If any place Jacob would be there.

Dev stepped out onto the street and light a cigarette. The rain poured down and whipped around him. Six years ago when he entered a cab to meet this man he was told he wouldn't leave the cab alive. Until three years ago he didn't, Police assumed he was dead. So did Jacob. The cold bite at him, he needed a ride.

Turning the the street, Dev raised a hand to hail a cab. One stopped by and Dev hopped in and grunted “Doppeldiamanten club. Now”

* * *

Dev stood outside Rhienlands fanciest club. He threw his pistol to the side of himself, the club had automatic blast targeting turrets. Meaning if you fired a shot lasers would blare down on you. Simply death would be assured if you ran in like a arse shooting wildly.

Luckily Dev has his trust-worthy sword, he enjoyed it more anyhow. Cold steal biting into flesh and spewing blood was more to his taste. The crunch as metal met bone and the pain it caused.

He strode into the club and walked up the elevator. A guard glance at him and grumbled “Move along, kid”

Dev smirked and said “Tell Jacob up there this 'Red curtain.' “

Try this on for size: "The guard raised a eyebrow at him and shrugged. Picking up his radio he grunted the message into it. Suddenly, an unexpected chill ran down his spine and the guard looked at Dev. A sword point hovered 2 inches from his eye. Dev gave it a little push and watched blood mingle with tears.

Humming a tune he hopped on the elevator and pressed up. He twirled his sword in front of him, two more guards should be it, Dev guessed. Generally bounty hunters don't have tons of guards.

The door opened and Dev jumped out, as expected there was a guard with a sword drawn against the well beside the elevator. Dev Swung his fist into the mans crotch, as he went down Dev sliced the mans stomach open quickly. The second guard had been stunned by the suddenness of it, but now rushed at Dev.

He quickly dropped down onto one knee and slashed his blade across the man's shins. The scream nearly shattered Dev's ears. He brought his blade up and through the mans crotch striking at the lower torso. Standing up, Dev watched the guard fall to the floor.

It is done. He thought. Now for my revenge.

He noticed a man was watching, waiting, at the far end of the room. “My my. You were but a whelp, fourteen or fifteen, when i last saw you. “ He said with a chuckle “Now your killing men like a pro”

“Its not that i am mad at you for humiliating me when i was young, its not that i'm mad at you for killing my friends and taking our money our food and everything, It really isn't. “ Dev said coldly “Its that you took a bounty i want”

“The dumb girl does not deserve to die at the hands of a filthy sadist such as yourself.” Jacob retorted

“Shut up and die” Dev spat as he lunged at Jacob.

The clash of steel rang it both of the men's ears. Metal hit metal as the two would be titans clashed. Dev swung his blade overhead to bring it down on Jacob's. Jacob, of course, caught this in a upper block. Dev pushed down with all his might, his strength overpowered Jacob until jacob lay on the ground trying to fend of Dev.

Dev made his move and sliced off Jacob's sword hand. The mans frightened eyes turned to Dev

“Mercy... Please...” Jacob said choking with tears of fear.

“I didn't see any of the poor unworthy lower-class get any mercy” Dev spat as he raised his blade and plunged the cold steal into Jacobs chest. Jacob gasped and blood bubbled through his wound, his eyes glazed over and he went quiet.

Dev's competition was gone, the game was his.

Summery: Dev eliminates the other bounty hunter gunning for Amy. He is now officaly hunting amy.

OOC: Thanks code for helping me patch up the chap as best as i can.

ooc: first post! hope you like it, if not, i may just cry in a cold damp corner and feel sorry for myself.

The swirling blue haze disappeared to reveal New London’s red and green glow. The trip had been a long one for Gabriel. Getting out of the border worlds, through Kusari’s relaxing blue backdrop, the Tau’s asteroid and gas fields; the trip had been tiring. It felt good to be home. He paused to look around before heading towards the trade lane that would help finish his journey to planet New London. It would be strange being back as well; everyone he knew here thought he was dead. He let out a small chuckle, “I guess the person they new is dead,” he thought.

He opened up his personal logs to double check his identification information; spouting out his old ID codes could cause all sorts of trouble. “This is, err, freelancer zeta eight dash one” he read, “requesting clearance to dock.”

“Affirmative freelancer zeta eight dash one, you are cleared to land, welcome to planet New London I hope you enjoy your visit here.”

“Wha’? Oh, heh, yeah! Thanks! Heh, I’m sure I will...” He responded surprise.
He smiled; it had been a long time since he had heard that voice. The docking cables whisked him down through the atmosphere and he glided his sleek black ship down to the landing pad. Realizing that it was going to grab all sorts of attention he guided it over to the private hangers. He climbed out and slid a credit stick into the clerk’s front pocket. “Make sure no one touches or sees her,” he said. The man beamed one of the largest smiles he had seen in a long while.

“Yes sir, of course. Is there anything else you would like done before you return?”

“Oh, um, yes actually” came the reply, “I ran into a few pirates on the way here, see if you can fix her up can you?”

“Of course sir, she’ll look brand new by morning.”

Gabriel smirked. “I think I may enjoy this after all,” he thought as he walked out of the hanger and into the streets.

He got a cab and asked the driver where a good place was to live close by. The man chuckled. “I know just the place. Somewhere you can get back to your ship quickly no doubt.”

“That’s the idea” the pilot responded. The Ta’Gue’Led had given him quite a few credits to live off of before he left and Gabriel was convinced that in the rush and confusion leaving, they had given him far more than they meant to. He didn’t say anything, it certainly was not enough for him to sit around idly and wait for something to happen. No, he figured he would make small trade runs in his drake around Bretonia, he could patrol it that way without making his actions obvious. The cab came to a halt outside of a nice looking high-rise building.

The cab came to a stop in the shadow of a large building. “These are some of the nicest places in the area,” the driver told Gabriel.

“Great, now what do I owe you?”

“Seventeen credits”

Gabriel handed the cab driver a credit stick and he swiped it in a machine on the dashboard.

“I hope you like the place,” the driver said to Gabriel, handing the credit stick back. With that he sped off.

Looking up, Gabriel marveled at the black stone, steel, and glass monolith rising up in front of him. He snapped out of his tourist-like gaze as the crowd rushing past him started pulling him down the street like he was caught in a rip current. Not used to bustle of big cities, it took him a few seconds to acclimatize before he used his size to wade through the river of people. Getting to the door, he was welcomed by a cool lobby filled with blue glass chandlers and a polished black marble floor. He approached the front desk and asked where he could inquire about an apartment.

Hello sir.” The porter said, “actually if you just go over to the office over there,” pointing at a black glossy wall, “ms. St. Clair will work out all the details.”

“Just there?” replied Gabriel in a doubtful tone as he stared at the wall. There was no obvious sign of an opening

“Yes, there is actually a door there, we just made it hard to see so that residents and visitors don’t have to see it as they enter and exit the building.” Answered proudly.

“Oh, I… see” he reacted and proceeded to walk cautiously toward the wall. Right before he hit it the wall slid open to reveal an office waiting room with similar décor. The porter stifled his laughter as the tall, confused man almost fell over in shock when the wall lurched open.

“Sorry, we’ve been meaning to get that fixed,” the porter yelled apologetically across the lobby, Gabriel gave him a criticizing glare before going into the room. The doors slammed behind him.

A woman appeared out of a dark hallway. She was dressed in a cleanly tailored skirt-suit. It was a vintage style, a dark gray, cut to accentuate her curves. She had a kind face and big bluish green eyes. Her brown hair was short; some of it cutting curved diagonal lines across her eyes towards her left ear.

“Ms. Fiona St. Clair, and you are?” she stated, holding out her hand.

“Gabriel Urran, a pleasure to meet you Ms. St. Clair,” he replied, engulfing her hand with is own.

“So you are interested in renting an apartment here?” she inquired.

“Actually I would prefer to buy if that is possible.”

“I may be able to arrange it, if you would follow me.”

He followed the young lady into an office down the corridor she had originally emerged from. There was a large wooden desk in the middle of it with a large leather chair on the far side, and two smaller ones closer to the door, a view screen on one side, papers littering the other. A light hung from the ceiling, illuminating the center of the desk. The walls were simple except for a large aquarium behind her swarming with fish of all shapes and colors.

“Marvelous aren’t they” she grinned.

Gabriel stopped staring. “Yes wow, where did you get them?”

“My father was a biologist. He has documented and studied much of the wildlife in Bretonia. These fish are actually from planets all over the sector.”

The room went silent.

Gabriel could tell she was starting to get a little nostalgic, “so, the apartment!” he said a little too loudly.

“Right!” she said returning to more professional mannerisms. “Well what kind of place were you looking for?”

“Preferably two bedroom, one with a balcony overlooking the spaceport. A kitchen, a living room would be nice, and of course a bathroom.”

“And square footage?” she inquired.

“Whatever there is” he replied, “I’m not picky.”

“Furnished?”

“Definitely, but is there anyway you could remove the bed from the second room?”

“I’m sure it can be accommodated.” She replied not looking up as she stared at the screen, selecting different things as they appeared.

Finally she turned away from the screen. The light above the desk caught her face and made it glow. Gabriel had to blink quickly to stop from gawking.

“There’s one that meets your request” she stated not noticing Gabriel, “It’s on the fifty seventh floor, hope you aren’t scared of heights.”

“That will do perfectly, I’m assuming the elevators make the journey quickly.”

“They’re the fastest in the city,” she replied enthusiastically.

“Well then great! I guess this is the point you tell me how much it will cost, I swallow, and make a bad joke concerning the cost, and what I’ll have to do to afford it.” He said sarcastically.

She laughed, “That’s what most people do. Well it’ll be seven hundred fifty thousand to buy. Will you need a loan?”

“No, I’ll be paying in full now” he replied handing her a credit stick.

The surprised look quickly vanished from the sales woman’s face and she took the stick. Sliding it into a slot on the edge of the desk, Ms. St. Clair selected a few more options on the screen and smiled. “Excellent!” she exclaimed turning back toward the man across the table from her, “Robert will take you to your apartment now, he’ll be expecting you at the front desk. Do you have any boxes or anything to go up right now?”

“No, not yet, I need to do some more shopping, haven’t been in Bretonia in quite a few years.”

“Oh? Why did you leave?” she inquired

“Job transfer. Anyway I guess that’s everything here.”

“I guess so…” the woman replied. They started to walk out of her office.

Gabriel turned to her; “Maybe I’ll see you around the building sometime?”

“Maybe,” she replied with a mysterious air to her voice.

“Well then perhaps you could show me the neighborhood?” he asked.

“She grinned and turned her head slightly, “Perhaps” she commented slyly, before disappearing back into her office.

Gabriel laughed to himself and walked out of the room into the lobby.

Summary: Introduces Gabriel, he arrives on new London and buys a place to live.


Edited by - [GR_Fallen_Angel on 7/4/2005 9:47:52 PM

"Ohhhh," thought the young pilot Dominic Santino as he woke from his cyro sleep, "I feel like I've been dead 800 years." He cracked his neck "Where are we, Angelina?" he spoke aloud.

"Sir, we are in the Texas system" The voice of the shipboard AI told him.

"What is the Capital of this area?"

"There seems to be 4 main factions, The left overs from the Liberty, the Bretonia, the Reinland, and the Kusari, I don't know what happend to the Hispania. The Liberty capital is closest, in a system called 'New York' Should I set a course for that world?"

"No, let's go to Bretonia, perhaps I can get a decent beer there. How long should it take us?"

"I would answer your question, but there seems to be a number of ships approaching."

"Quick, Power up shields and weapons"

"I'm sorry, Dominic, shields pose no problem, but the weapon system went out 14 years ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

"We were discussing pl--"

"Not now!"

Dominic suddenly felt his ship jump to the right, as a large object struck him. Increadably, it did no visible damage to his shield, on the other hand, his cruise engines were no longer working. Obviously hostile, the strange ships fired upon him wipeing out his shield in a few shots. Dom picked up his radio, "STOP" he shouted, "What do you think your doing!"

The reply came, "Just taking your load of diamonds."

'Shoot' Thought Dom, 'How did they know that I've got diamonds? I've got a lot to learn.' "Please," He said, "Don't take them, It's all I have."

"Sure" came the reply, "I've heard that one before, You going to drop it, or what?"

Despondent, Dom pulled the release lever, and let all his wealth drift off into space.

"Thank you, but to show you what nice guys we are, We'll blast you anyway."

The pirates opened up on him, and Dom watched as his left wing was torn off. Playing his final card, Dom activated his twin thrusters, useing both he was able to outdistance his adversairies.

"Angelina, where's the nearest planet?" Dom shouted, as a bolt of tachyon ray shot by his cockpit.

"Planet Houston is only a few Killometers away. I suggest you head there."

As he swung around Houston, he saw an amazeing sight, more ships then he had seen since he had left the Sol system. The pirates had stoped persuing him, and he entered the atmosphere. His ship shuddered and bucked, but landed in one piece. As he began to hike towards a town at though crossed his mind.

"Great," I have no money, no diamonds, a ship not worth 50 bucks, and no place to crash tonight. To make matters worse, I'm from 800 years in the past, and have one whopper of a headache."


Edited by - Chupa on 7/5/2005 8:56:06 AM

Edited by - Chupa on 7/8/2005 7:28:49 AM

Occ: I would post a reply now but being at a mates plaace I better not. One will come this weekend.............. I hope.

OOC: Yep im in a writing mood today.

IC:
Dev sat in the back of a small bar cafe thing. He light up a cigarette and chuckled. “They'll look back in 50 years and say he killed so many men never got a scratch then a bunch of smoke killed Ol Devvy. Dev mumbled to himself.

He noticed a man walking towards him, the man did look very friendly. Dev pulled out his pistol and hid it under the table. The man stood at his table, unmoving not saying a word.

“Ye?” Dev grunted “What you want?”

The man stood unmoving, without saying anything. Dev pulled his pistol and aimed it right at the mans forehead.

“I don't play games.” Dev said coldly. Everyone in the bar froze and stared at Dev.

“Neither do i Mr.Dev.” The man replied without any emotion.

“Then give me one good reason for not blowing your head off. If you know my name you know i wont hesitate to do it.” Dev said slowly and hatefully.

“Because i have a sniper across the street with his cross-hair aimed directly on you” The man said with a hint of a smile. Dev pulled out a metal cylinder and placed it on the table.

“Smoke grenade” He said with a snicker “No sniper in hell will ever shoot through such a haze. Now to f*cking hell with this cloak and dagger sh*t. What do you want.”

The man smirked. “No small talk? Down to work, i can do that” He said “I want you out of Rhienland and never to come back.”

Dev laughed. “You must be bloody mad, i love this place and i have no real intent to leave. Stop wasting your time.”

“I'll give you one last chance to accept my offer and leave, if you dont my sniper will blow your head off.” The man replied coldly.
“Please” Dev said “Smart up.” Andf with that he slammed the smoke grenade down.

The smoke rose up evolping everything. Several loud gunshots were heard. When the smoke cleared the patrons of the bar looked around bewildered. A body was slumped in at the table.

The sniper burst in and looked around. He saw the body and ran up to it, he lifted the head and saw it was the face of his employer. A tingle went down his spine as he felt cold steel press up against his head.

The patrons of the bar witnessed another gun shot. The snipers head fell on the table blood dripping everywhere. Dev grabbed a large bottle of vodka from another table and broke it over his former table. He then tossed the cigarette he had been smokign on it. He smiled at the shocked bartender and pulled the fire alarm.

“Always good to have one” Dev said loudly as he left the bar.

Dev walked up to a public phone and dialed in a number.

“Aye?” A voice shouted over the phone.

“Boris shut the hell up and listen.” Dev grunted. “Men came after me, not novice F*ck ups. Proffessinals.”

“And?” Boris grunted back at Dev's

“Yeah yeah. They wanted me to leave Rhienland” Dev replied “Find out who they are, i cant deal with this and do a job.”


Summery: Dev finds out someone doesnt like his prescense in Rhienland, knowing what he's dont it could be a lot of people.

Here you go. Nearly 2000 words of space-combat goodness, followed by some more words of other stuff. Enjoy.

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

Rob knew Konn and his pursuers were not far off when he saw flashes of light barely pierce the thick Omicron Beta haze. He was just about to move around and hold position behind the fleet when he heard Sergeant Phillips.

"You might want to hold position behind the fleet." She said. "Our sensors read the huffers inbound, fast."

"Already on it." Rob replied as he brought his fighter around.

"Here they come!" A Special Branch soldier called over the open channel. "Prepare to open fire!"

No sooner did Rob think he could make out the faint shape of Konn's Humpback, that the large freighter burst out of the green clouds.

"Bloody hell!" Konn yelled. "Why aren't you shooting?!"

The freighter, flanked by two Crusaders – Only two? Damn. – rocketed through the main fleet formation, Outcast ships hot on their tail. Once the friendlies were safely out of the firing line, the fleet's weapons, already brought to bear, let loose. Space was instantly filled with blinding flashes of white light.

Though a few blasts went wide, most found a mark within the mass of Outcast craft. The gunboats, though fast, absorbed much of the fire due both to their bulk and poor maneuverability. Two were ripped to shreds almost instantly, their exploding reactors damaging nearby fighters. A third took a less severe, though still crippling series of hits, it abruptly deviated from its near straight-line path and blasted through a formation of Outcast fighters, scattering them in all directions. The final gunboat somehow managed to escape unscathed.

The fighters – more than Rob could count – flashed through the wall of fire. The more skilled pilots dodged the blasts where they could and took grazing shots when they had to. Many rookies weren't able to pull off the same moves, though. A significant number were vaporized as they ran headlong into multiple flak bursts.

By the time the odds had been evened somewhat and the Outcasts had blazed through the newly recaptured fleet, Rob had pushed his engines to full and hit his thrusters. The Falcon leapt into action, sticking closely to the tail of an already damaged Stiletto. Rob's targeting reticule began to spin rapidly, indicating a solid lock on his target. He opened fire with all available guns. The Outcast tried to shake Rob and scare him off with a few blasts from the rear turret, but Rob held his lock and poured energy onto the pirate. The shields held for a few moments, flashed and died. The fighter's armor had been nearly completely ablated by earlier fire so it was not long before it exploded in a miniature nova.

Rob dodged around the debris and residual energy from the explosion, remembering to tractor in any loot as he raced by. Seven of the remaining Outcasts, in Daggers and Stilettos, continued to pursue Konn while the rest, including the surviving gunboat and at least four Sabres turned to attack the Bretonian ships.

"Concentrate your fire on the gunboat!" Rob ordered over the comm. "Do your best to keep the fighters at bay, but don't try to hard to kill them. I'll handle that."

Suddenly a series of bluish-white blooms erupted from the Outcast formation.

"SH*T!" Rob yelled "Torpedo run! Brace for impact!"

Rob hit his thrusters and rushed towards the oncoming ordnance and the ships that followed behind. He aimed roughly in the direction of the thickest concentration of torpedoes and opened fire with all the energy he could muster. One lucky shot scored a hit on a torpedo. It exploded violently, setting off a chain reaction which destroyed a number of the projectiles, and blew others completely off course. Not all were destroyed, however. A good number flashed by Rob as his Falcon zoomed towards the Outcast ships.

Just then the Falcon shuddered and its shields dropped precipitously as Rob came under fire from the oncoming ships. He pushed the nose of his ship down and hit shield restore. The blue bar jumped back to a more comfortable level but fell again as the Outcasts vectored to follow him.

Rob dropped a few EMP mines and punched in the “Engine Kill” command. His Falcon spun around 180 degrees in a span of under a second. Where before the pursuing Outcast Sabres faced only one turret, they suddenly found themselves about to run into a cluster of mines, and staring down the barrels of five rapid-fire guns. Caught by surprise, one pirate didn't scatter in time. The mines converged on his fighter, obliterating his shields in a scintillating burst of blue light. Immediately after, Rob's photon cannons began to chew through hull plating and burn through vital systems. The Outcast let out an anguished yell, silenced when the fighter exploded violently.

Temporarily out of range of the Outcast guns Rob put in a call to the Bretonian ships, “Status report! How did you guys manage?”

“Sergeant Wynn-Jones here. You did a great job, Rob. We all took a few hits but no critical systems were destroyed. Hull integrity on all ships is holding steady at over 90%. We're fine. But you should get back here, now. The happy sniffers look like they've decided to make another pass.”

“Roger that.” Rob said. He reactivated is engines and slammed on his thruster. The Falcon shuddered and shook at the sudden acceleration and, despite the ship's inertial compensators, Rob found himself squashed into his seat. The fighters has scattered when Rob pulled his 180 and, instead of coming around to pursue him again they had turned their attentions back to the capital ships. Apparently Mason and his cronies hadn't expected to go up against any capital ships. The Outcast fighters, having exhausted their limited supply of torpedoes had resorted to far more dangerous strafing runs.

As he tore towards the main fleet, Rob saw the odd bright flash as one of the Bretonian ships scored a hit. They came too infrequently, however, as the automated firing programs he had earlier taken advantage of were now proving almost equally useless for the new crews. Even the gunboat was able to dodge most of the clumsy shots while it laid down stream after deadly stream of fire.

The sheer destructive potential of the remaining Outcast-controlled capital ship made it Rob's primary target. He wove his ship up, down and around the craft's shots and settled just inside the ship's blind spot. A line of energy leapt from Rob's guns, raking up and down the gunboat's rear superstructure. Then, suddenly the Falcon shuddered violently as a Sabre landed or Rob's tail and began its own barrage.

Rob immediately hit hit shield batteries – fortunately there were an abundance floating around for him to pick up – and pulled up. He hit the thrusters once more, strafing from side to side to avoid the enemy fire as best he could.

The Outcast on his tail was either really blissed out on Cardamine or very talented – Rob thought it was probably both – and he stuck to Rob's tali like glue. Rob tried switching direction abruptly, he tried dropping mines, he tried everything the could think of to shake the persistent pirate but nothing worked.

Oh well. Rob thought as his ship was rocked by another hit. Time to try something different. Ignoring the repeated hits the Outcast pilot was scoring, Rob vectored towards the Coventry.

“Sergeant Phillips,” he said over the comm. “I need your help. I've got a guy on my tail who just won't leave me – crap! - alone. I'm going to bring him over, low and fast. Get ready yo blow him away if he follows.”

“Roger. We're ready.”

Rob punched his thrusters once more and vaulted towards the large capital ship, Outcast doggedly following. He lined the Falcon's up on a straight-line path towards the aft of the battleship, juking slightly from side to side in an effort to avoid hostile fire. The Outcast still pursued. As Rob passed over the engine he saw the battleship's guns come to bear on what looked like him. He roared over them and, a split second later they blasted their destructive energies into space.

The talented Outcast ran into each blast. The first drained his shields to near emptiness. Then, before the pilot could react, the remainder were torn away. The third blast blew the Sabre's undercarriage clean off and the fourth obliterated the fighter in a brief but brilliant holocaust.

“YEAH!” Rob shouted over the comm. “Great shot guys! Thanks a million!”

“How about you finish off these scumbags?” Sergeant Phillips asked. “Save the celebration for later.”

Rob just smiled and peeled his fighter to starboard, searching for the gunboat he had been pursuing earlier. He was surprised to see it being pursued by a large, clumsy-looking green ship – Konn's Humpback. The ex-BAF pilot wasn't holding back either. So much energy burst forth from the freighter that it looked almost as if there was a line connecting to two ships.

Figuring that the gunboat wouldn't last much longer, Rob turned his attention to the remaining fighters. It looked like Konn and his friends, tired of playing the running game, had turned to face their diminished pursuers. Somehow, though a combination of skill, luck and sheer cussed willpower they had destroyed the Outcasts who had been dogging them and then returned to the main battle. The surviving BAF pilots were alternately double-teaming one of the surviving Sabres and watching each-others' backs. They didn't need any help at all.

That left one Sabre for Rob. A quick glance at the threat-board told Rob he was up against one Domingo Allende. “Buenas noches, senor Allende.” Rob said through gritted teeth as he raced towards his adversary.

The distance between the two ships closed in an instant. Rob pulled his Falcon into a tight half barrel-roll to avoid the superior destructive power of the Sabre's guns while keeping his own fire directed on the Outcast fighter. In the time it took for the fighters to flash past each other, both had lost over half their shields. Rob, taking full advantage of the Falcon's greater maneuverability pushed his fighter into a punishing turn which left him flattened against the side of his vacsuit. The Sabre hadn't yet made a full turn so Rob kicked his thruster into high-gear and raced towards a point just off the Sabre's tail.

Allende, realizing that he was now outnumbered and potentially outgunned, decided to high-tail it out of Omicron Beta. He turned his fighter towards the not-far-off jumphole to Omicron Alpha. Rob, was having none of that though. As soon as he saw the telltale sparkle indicating a charging cruise-engine, he dumped a series of cruise disrupters on the unfortunate pirate's tail. The Outcast put up a good attempt at evasion but that only gave Rob a chance to fire bolt after bolt into his already weakened shields. And one disrupter found its way home all the same.

Rob took up a secure position behind the Sabre and opened fire. The lethal fingers of energy from his photon cannons reached across space to stroke the Outcast fighter with the touch of death. Armor plating boiled away into space and reactor plasma began to vent. In desperation, the Outcast dropped a series of mines, hoping to throw Rob off his tail. Unfortunately for Domingo Allende, Rob's cannon fire struck one of the mines, exploding it just as it was ejected from the Outcast fighter.

The blast vaporized the entire back end of the Sabre. Not a second later the front end followed suit.

The Outcasts were destroyed. It was time to take the Bretonian ships home.

“Right.” Rob said “Before we go I want all you Special Branch folks to make backups of the data stored on your ships' computers. It's not likely that the Outcasts would have installed some sort of wiping program but there's a wealth of intelligence data to be had. We don't want to lose it.”

“Already done, sir.” Sergeant Reynolds said. “I can send you some highlights if you'd like.”

“Yes, please.” Rob said. “Did their navmaps have any preprogrammed waypoints?”

“Yes, actually. Looks like they planned some sort of abbreviated shakedown cruise through Alpha and then into Kusari. I'll upload them to your Neural Net?”

“Go for it.” Rob said. A second later a purple diamond popped up on his HUD, unsurprisingly it would take Rob to the Omicron Alpha jumphole. Rob opened up his navmap and gave the route a quick look-over. One thing which immediately struck Rob as odd was the fact that the ships were not set to head directly to Malta upon arrival in Alpha. Rather, the waypoints led first to a seemingly empty point in space Galactic Southwest of the Outcast home planet. From there the ships were to make a large loop around the system and then exit the way they came in – via Omicron Beta.

That's really weird. Rob reflected. Where are they going to pick up the crews? They couldn't very well have expected to run an invasion with the skeleton crews they were using Unless...

“Damien.” Rob said aloud. “I have something you might want to check out.”

For a few moments nothing happened and Rob began to feel a bit silly. Talking to ghosts, are you? What's next? Visiting a psychic?

Just as Rob was about to give up a mournful voice floated through his head and an odd sensation, not unlike static electricity, enveloped Rob's body. “What is it?”

“Ah, good.” Rob said. “You'll be happy to know the assault was a success. The Outcasts are now out one Bretonian fleet.”

“I know. I met Private Wells on his journey to the beyond. He wants you to know that he is sorry for his failure.”

“Oh, sh*t, man. You tell him he didn't fail anyone. I failed him.” Rob coughed once. “He did everything he was supposed to and we won because of it. You tell him that our success wouldn't have been possible without him.”

“Very well.” Damien said. “But you did not call out for me simply to send that message, did you?”

“No, I, uh, didn't.” Rob replied. “I was just looking over the waypoints that the Outcasts programmed into the Bretonian navmaps. They're quite odd. You see, there's no obvious stop to pick up a crew. I figured they'd load up at Malta but they aren't getting anywhere near the place really.

“There is one point that looks like it might be a base of some sort. Sector 7B. The ships are set to make a beeline for there, and then they just fly around the system. I get the feeling that there's something there. Could you check it out for me, please? I'd like to know what other tricks Mason and his goons have up their sleeves. Who knows? Maybe that's where he's conducting all those f*cked up experiments and whatnot?”

“I see. Yes, I will go investigate this. I cannot explain, but I feel that you are right. Thank you Rob.”

“You're - ” Rob began, but Damien was already gone.

“You're welcome.”

Summary: Konn leads the Outcasts into a trap of sorts. The good guys kill the bad guys. Rob gives Damien an idea of where another hidden Outcast base might be. Damien goes to investigate.

Damien bowed his head, tears streaming forward and vanishing into nothingness. The suffering of existence echoed throughout his ears, a mournful song which he could hear in deepest clarity. Death, aging, sickness stalked the worlds, the shadows of inevitability. Fear, anger, and hatred clamoured at the hearts of humanity, now more than ever.

Depraved, humanity struggles on, subtly destroying itself. The world redeemers have gone to their graves, their messages heard, twisted, perverted, and dead...
The Nazarene nailed like a lovely butterfly against the wood...Gautama lost in the scrolls of time...the names Aurelius, Mohammed, Confucius unknown and unheard of.
Especially in this time where to take a life is as natural as to take a breath.

Truth is dead. Goodness, murdered. Beauty, bled to dust. All have lost sight of the One.

We are sick animals , he thought to himself. We have lost sight of the beauty of true humanity. Hedonism ravages us. Depravation, the corrupting demon, has passed its twisted flame into the hearts of all yet living.

Why should I save this race?

A small, sudden feeling of hope answered his question, even as he seemed to drown in his ocean of despair. There is that which is animal, the drive purely towards survival and reproduction. But there is also humanity, a force pushing us towards the Absolute. We are not lost...

If only they would listen...

When Tanya awoke, she would find a book bound in black leather on her bedside table, a silver serpent drawn on the inside page. The words "The Meditations II" will be on the cover. And inside, the words of a man who has gone beyond this suffering world.

I will try my hand at world redeemer.

As he thought and created this work, a voice cried out from the world of corporeality: Damien...

Rob.

He located the man's shell, allowing his presence to envelope Rob's mind. What is it?
_____________________________________________________________________

OOC: I'll get back to this later.

I'm unstoppable!

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

“So,” Sergeant Westbrook's voice came over the comm channel. “What do we do now?”

“Well, I'll contact Harry. Hopefully he'll be able to arrange passage back through Rheinland for us.” Rob answered. “In the mean time, you guys make sure the ships are going to be able to make it.”

“Roger.”

Rob switched comm channels and entered an encryption key. “Harry? You there? It's Rob.”

“Oh. Good. Do you have any news for me?”

“Yeah. The mission was a success. All target craft were captured.” Rob said.

“Excellent. Were there any losses?” Harry asked.

“Yes. At least three, maybe more, I don't know.”

“Oh, pity,” Commodore Pearce said, a hint of sadness in his voice. “Still, well within the limits of acceptable casualties. What happened with the other ships?”

“We had to destroy them. We hand neither the time nor the manpower to launch an effective second assault while still maintaining control of the target craft and fighting off the escorts. Now, we need a way out of here. What can you give us?”

“I've just gotten off the horn with the Rheinland ambassador. He says we're welcome to transit through their space. They've even offered us escort through the Omegas.” Harry said.

“Oh, that’s fantastic.” Rob smiled. “The last thing we'd need are a bunch of trigger-happy Hessians on our backs. Escort will be most appreciated. As a matter of fact, that'll free me up to do a bit of investigating.”

“Investigating?” Harry queried. “What sort of investigating?”

“Oh, we pulled down the waypoints they Outcasts had uploaded into the ships' computers. It looks like they might have built another base in Omicron Alpha. I'd like to check it out.” Rob explained

“I see.” Harry said. “Well, I'll just ask you to shepherd the ships to the Rheinland border then. The Rheinland Navy can take over from there.”

“Sounds like a plan. We'll get going now.” Rob said. “Thanks for the help.”

“No Rob, thank you. There's no way we would have been able to get this far without your abilities.”

“Well, I had a great team backing me up.” Rob said.

“You always do.” Harry responded. “Thanks again, my boy.”

“Anytime.” Rob said and cut the connection.

“So, orders?” Sergeant Phillips asked.

“We're going to go back the way we came. I'll only be going as far as the jumpgate to Frankfurt though. You'll be escorted the rest of the way by a contingent from the Rheinland Navy.” Rob outlined the plan.

“And the Omegas?” Sergeant Wynn-Jones asked

“Rheinlanders'll cover your backs all the way to Bretonia.” Rob reassured the man.

“Very well. Let's be off then.”

“Right. Konn, did you and yours catch all that?”

“Yes, we heard.” Konn answered. “Why aren't you coming all the way?”

“I'm going to take a look at the Outcast base in Omicron Alpha.” Rob said.

“Start over, if you please. I'm lost.” Konn's confusion was almost palpable.

“Oh. Right. I've just been looking over the Outcast waypoints and there's one that looks very suspicious. Like, secret base suspicious. I want to check it out.”

“But your rep... you'll have every Outcast in Alpha on your tail if you do that.”

“Switch to a secure channel. I'll explain everything.” Rob said. “In the mean time, let's get underway to the Sigma-19 jumphole. I don't want to wait around for an Outcast counterattack.”

With that, 15 cruise engines began to charge in unison. The recaptured Bretonian ships, escorted by one Falcon, one Humpback and two Crusaders, headed off towards the jumphole.

A light flashed on, telling Rob that Konn was trying to open a secure comm channel. Rob accepted the connection and Konn's voice, somewhat distorted by the encryption scheme emanated from the small speakers embedded in the freelancer's vacsuit. “Now, explain what’s going on, please.”

“Right. So there's this potential base thing we've got. And a while back Damien said he was searching for the place where Mason is doing his experiments but that he wasn't coming up with anything. So when I came across this base – which isn't actually listed anywhere by the looks of things – I figured I'd send Damien over to scout the place out. So we'll probably have all the intel we need by the time we get there. The mope master's proving more useful than I would have thought possible.”

“That all sounds very intriguing. Would you mind if I tagged along?” Konn asked.

"Wait," Rob was puzzled. "You want to come with me?"

"Yes," Konn said. "I can't quite explain it, but my curiosity has been piqued. If nothing else it will be interesting."

"Interesting? Don't you remember what happened the last time we got involved with an Outcast base?" Rob's incredulity was growing.

"Hey! I didn't join the Armed Forces because I'm some sort of milquetoast, you know." Konn admonished Rob.

“Ha. Well, that much is true, I suppose.” Rob conceded. “I'll be happy to have you along.”

“Thank you,” Konn said.

Rob cut the secure channel. He looked up from the control panel in front and noted that the convoy was nearly at the jumphole. “Right. We're almost there. Battleships will go through first, followed by the gunboats then the cruisers. Then Konn and friends. I'll stay back and guard the rear.”

While Rob waited for all the other ships to go through the jumphole it occurred to him that he should maybe check on Tanya's condition. He pinged Travis Neural Net and waited for a reply.

“Yeah?” The ex-Bounty Hunter said not two seconds later as a small avatar popped up in the corner of Rob's HUD. “Who's there?”

“Hey Travis. It's Rob. The op was a success so I figured I'd let you know. How are things going there? How's Tanya?”

Rob saw a strange look materialize on Travis' face. It looked like a mixture of concern, confusion and uncertainty. “Things have been weird. Like, really strange.”

Rob felt suddenly on edge. “What do you mean? And is Tanya alright?”

“Tanya's fine. At least, I think she is. That's part of the weirdness though.” Travis said. “The other day, a couple of doctors did some routine scans of her or something, just to see if she was healing okay. I wasn't in the room at the time but I swear, those docs looked like ghosts when they came out. Their faces were whiter than the twin Tau-37 suns.

“I tried to get them to tell me what was going on but they wouldn't say anything other than 'she'll be fine.' Like hell she will. Those guys saw something. I know it, and it can't be good. I really want to crack some skulls, let me tell you.”

“Don't.” Rob said.

“Oh, I won't,” Travis reassured the freelancer. “If there is something wrong with Tanya it's not anything I can deal with. The doctors might be able to though.”

“Yeah.” Rob said. “Is that all that's been going on?”

“Well, no, actually.” Travis said. “I've been hearing voices.”

“Voices?”

“Yeah. And Carshalton, too. And some of the construction team, from what I can tell. I've also been hearing rumors of people seeing things. Apparently they'd see a person, all bloody and stuff and then he'd just up and disappear. I think it might have been that weird floaty guy, um, Damien.”

“Yeah. Sounds like it.” Rob said. “I don't know what's up with him.”

“And then, just a little while ago, the craziest thing of all happened.” Travis' eyes widened just from thinking about it. “I went into the medical bay to check on Tanya, make sure she's still okay and there was this black, um, thing on the table beside her. I didn't put it there, Carshalton didn't put it there, and nobody else put it there either. Nobody had even been into the bay. I had been standing at the door the whole time. And yet, there is was all the same. Just sitting on the table.”

“What was it?” Rob asked.

“Damned if I know. I just wanted to get rid of it. Had this picture of a snake or something on the front and the word 'mediation', I think.” Travis said.

“So, what did you do?”

“Well, I wasn't about to leave it there, that's for sure. And I sure as hell wasn't going to try to figure out what it was for. So eventually Carshalton and I decided to just get rid of it. We loaded it into Carshalton's hold and he flew out to the edge of the sun's corona. The plan was just to eject it and let the radiation burn the sucker but Carshalton just told me he didn't want to take any chances. Says he vaped it.”

“Okay. Good.” Rob said. “I'd have done the same thing. We can't take any chances here.”

“Yeah. No kidding.” Travis agreed. “From now on Carshalton and I are staying inside the medical bay. Anymore weirdness and we're getting Tanya the hell off this place.”

“Yeah. I was about to suggest that.” Rob said. “Let me know if anything else happens, will you? I'll probably be gone for a while yet.”

“Okay, man. Will do.” Travis said.

“Thanks.” Rob cut the connection. He looked up and saw the tail end of Konn's humpback enter the jumphole. It was his turn. Rob maneuvered his fighter into position and entered the spinning, multicolored tunnel of light.

Summary: Rob contacts Harry Pearce to report mission success. The Bretonians are given instruction to travel back through Rheinland. They will be escorted by RN ships. Rob and Konn decide to investigate the base where Damien has been sent. All sorts of bizarre happenings on the Tau-31 Jumpgate Construction Site.

Damien sighed, taking in for one last, sweet moment the pure winds that blew under the New Berlin stars. The glaciers of the planet shone brilliantly beneath the lights of its year-long darkness. The Ocean of Sighs fell softly upon the ice as one lone eagle cried its morn to the stars. He took one final breath...

...and vanished out of corporeality, searching with his expanded consciousness for the base Rob had spoke of.

Since the encounter with the Blood Dragon, Damien knew the weakness of this shadow form his mind had constructed. The more contact with Samsara he endured, the weaker his form became. His strength slowly flowed back into the universe, joining the rotting remains of his body.

To be truthful, as this happened his mind entered almost involuntarily a state of constant meditation and tranquility, which he could only break out of by sheer willpower.

And killing a whole host of men...

So this is to be my sacrifice for humanity.

His outstretched mind suddenly felt a centre of life in the bareness of Omicron Alpha's space. Well...something close to life anyways...

That must be it.

His ghostly form reappeared in corporeal reality, in a dark steel corridor. Cardamine perfumed the air, spreading its sweet stench throughout the station. Outcast insignia lined the walls. Damien reached out with his mind; he could feel barely any life aboard the station. A concentration of immense power caught his attention in the very centre...and sparse bursts of life, in an adjoining room. But for the most part, the station felt abandoned...except for the dark undertone of death...

He walked through the heavy steel doors before him. This room was also nondescript--fairly small, dirty, and almost useless. One control panel was built into the right of the room, where two guards sat, closely monitoring it. Damien plunged his ghastly hands into their bodies. As they turned to dust, he examined the control board they had been monitoring. It controlled the Cardamine output of the entire station. Damien pulled a lever down to 0. That takes care of the guards..

This room was unlit. He could barely see...

The lights flickered on.

He wished they hadn't. Rows and rows of bodies, men churning in fitful dreams, lay before him. Thousands at least. The men were sickly, weak, dying...Well, not quite. Their bodies were rotting away slowly before his eyes, and yet the men were still alive.

I seem to have found what I was looking for...

They had already been infected with the poisonous energies of the Artifact. The bones dissolved into dust, the flesh rotted away as if a horde of maggots tore it apart. But the mind would survive even after the brain and body were destroyed. Now they fitfully tossed and turned, nightmares plaguing them. Soon they would live out these ghastly visions.

Damien let the bittersweet Song of the world fill his ears. He entered a state of deepest meditation, reaching out to the minds of those in the hall before him. He calmed their frightened, feverish minds, alleviating the curse of the Artifact as he sank them into a state of deepest unconsciousness. They calmed, and settled, and reconnected...

And with love, he killed their bodies, releasing their minds into the nothingness of the universe.

He passed from body to body, making his way down the long hall, touching each with a tip of his phantom finger. Life flowed from him as he steadily grew weaker...

It was almost painful now to hold himself back, to stay together. To remain alive...

But he had to.

And he pushed on, doorway after doorway, until he came to the room with the power concentration he felt before. A pillar carved from blue stone stood in the centre of the room, whose floors were black marble and walls were covered in mirrors. And surmounting the pillar was the Artifact: a green stone, laced with gold, inside which burned twisting black flames. Damien reached out with his last remaining burst of energy...

It shattered.

Damien collapsed to the ground, shaking. His phantom visage flickered and failed, barely remaining in corporeality.

He gathered his strength, and searched out for Rob.
_______________________________________

Rob had just come out of the Sigma 19 jumphole when for the second time that day he felt the ghastly sensation of Damien. He shouted, shocked by the suddeness of the sensation.

Konn spoke up, worried. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah. Fine. Just startled a bit."

He spoke to Damien, then. "Find anything?"

Yes. There is a station there, very small. Only five humans remaining aboard it, and those are prisoners I feel. The guards are dead...

"Go on."

And Mason's army of phantoms is destroyed.

Rob sighed. "Well, that's good news.

To say the least. I think you're sufficiently indebted to me.

He laughed. "Yes...I'll be coming around to the station soon then."

Rob, I.. the phantom paused, then gasped. It was destroyed??

"What?"

The book! You let it be destroyed?

"Damien, what in the name of space are you talking about?"

The phantom's breath grew raggedy and harsh, but he regained his composure. There was a book, leatherclad, I placed on Tanya's bedside table for her. And humanity. The Meditations. You say...Carshalton...had it vaporized...

"What was it?"

Philosophy. Morality. Something that could actually save humanity, not jut perpetuate the existence of a race of animals. Here... he paused, and Rob suddenly felt something fairly heavy fall into his lap.

Don't you dare destroy that or lose it. Make as many copies as possible, sell them for massive profits...I don't care what you do with it. Just let its words be heard. You're indebted to me, remember?

Tell Travis, Konn, and Tanya goodbye from me.

And then he was gone.

He looked down into his lap. There lay a book, clad in black leather, upon which read in gold The Meditations II . His ship was jolted slightly by a passing asteroid; it fell open to the first page, on which was sketched the words, vanishing even as he looked at them: Goodbye, Rob. The words were replaced by the philosophy of Damien Solkovsky.

Rob placed it to the side, shaking his head at what happened.
________________________________________________________

Damien pushed on. He wandered down the barren corridors, through more doors and more rooms until he found the prisoners' ward. It was only a makeshift prison; weak bars created five chambers into which were placed individual men, and were the only barrier between them and the rest of the station. Damien supposed that they would have been too weak to force their way out.

He let his gaze drift over them. Sleeping, all five of them. The one he was looking for, the one he knew he would see again before he died, was hunched in a corner, his side against the wall. He was shirtless.

His body was still strong, even more beautifully muscled beneath the gruesome scars that marked his chest and back. It bore gross signs of emaciation. His face was gaunt, but still as gorgeous as ever, and the beard that had grown unchecked only added to his wild handsomeness.

Damien, life bleeding out of him every minute, passed through the bars and knelt down beside Nikolai, placing a soft hand on his lover's cheek. A tear of joy glistened in his eye.

The man's sunken eyes opened slowly at the touch. His mouth opened in disbelief. "...Damien?"

He continued to smile down into Nikolai's deep green eyes.

"Oh god! Damien!" He wrapped his tired, beaten arms around the younger man, softly embracing him...and pulling back, seeing his face. "What have they done to you?"

Damien stood. "You don't want to know. Nikolai..."

"Ssh." He raised himself off the ground, moving closer to Damien and wrapping his arms around him again. "It is your time, isn't it?"

The young man breathed, and nodded, staring into the green eyes that confronted him, taking solace in the strong arms that embraced him. Nikolai held his shoulders, smiling sadly.

And then, in the deepest and most profound representation of love, the highest form of truth, goodness, and beauty, in the spirit of all that is holy, Nikolai kissed his lover. Long and passionate, every movement a physical representation of their love, as pure as it is perfect.

Damien's ghostly figure began to pulse, then glow, then shine with blinding, beautiful light. Waves rippled across the remainder of his body as the blood that spilled from his wounds vanished and his wounds themselves closed. His skin changed from its sickly whtie colour to the beautiful tone it once was. His hair, clean of gore, shone suddenly as his visage changed, becoming a representation of its most beautiful living form. Damien, phantom no more but rather angel, withdrew, smiling at Nikolai.

"I love you," he whispered, placing a final kiss on his lover's lips. And then Damien Solkovsky was gone.
__________________________________________________________________
Summary: Damien sacrifices himself and kills the experiment victims of Mason, who are turning into his army of ghosts. He informs Rob of his success, says goodbye, and gives him a gift. Before he dies, he sees Nikolai, now a prisoner aboard the same station, one last time.

Edited by - Wilde on 7/10/2005 11:39:09 PM

I'm also going to be grumpy in the morning.

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

Rob, not having anything better to do, began to read. Some of Damien's last words echoed through Rob's mind.

“Something that could actually save humanity, not just perpetuate the existence of a race of animals.”

The words brought with them a profound sense of dread for Rob, a dread which quickly morphed into outright horror.

---

We are sick animals. We have lost sight of the beauty of true humanity. Hedonism ravages us. Deprivation, the corrupting demon, has passed its twisted flame into the hearts of all yet living.

Why should I save this race?

There is that which is animal, the drive purely towards survival and reproduction. But there is also humanity, a force pushing us towards the Absolute. We are not lost...

I will try my hand at world redeemer.

---

Those eight final words - eight small words - awoke in Rob a rage such as he had never felt before. He slammed the book shut, not daring to read another word.
He will try his hand at world redeemer!? HE will try HIS hand at world redeemer!? The sheer hubris in those words astounded Rob. Whose world is to be redeemed? Not mine. I didn't ask for a savior. I asked for an ally. A partner. I did not ever ask for a self-styled messiah to foist his misguided notions upon me and the rest of Sirius!

“We are sick animals.” How dare he! How dare he presume to judge anyone! Who is he to say that I, or anyone else is an “animal”? What right does he have to accept or reject the choices made by others? What makes him the arbiter of our freedom?

“Why should I save this race?” It seems obvious now why he “deigned to save us”. This was no act of compassion, of self-sacrifice. No. This was an act of supreme selfishness. This was an act meant as the first step to deification. Damien would cease to be Damien Solkovsky, little-known hero. In it's place he would have the universe embrace him as Damien Solkovsky, "world redeemer".

Not on my watch! I will not propagate the views of one egomaniac whilst fighting the depredations of another. For they are one in the same, Damien and Mason. They both seek to mold their universe, to make it theirs and theirs alone to control. To deny one and all the fundamental human right to choose a path of one's own. Mason tries to squash us, to simply destroy those who might oppose him, and to directly control those who do not. Damien seeks to proselytize, to herd humanity down the path upon which he has placed his all-important stamp of approval. Any deviation is “animal”, is lower, base and unworthy of continued existence.

Well, I refuse to be a part of this. I will not honor his wish.

The thoughts and words burned through Rob's brain like acid, erasing his former conception of the dead Bundschuh fighter. Rob's vision began to tunnel and his the sound of rushing blood filled the freelancer's ears. Rob realized suddenly that he had been holding his breath.

He released the air trapped in his lungs. It carried away with it much of Rob's fury. The freelancer was left drained. Drained and profoundly upset.

Rob tried his best to recall a different Damien, a humble Damien. But, despite his best efforts, he failed. All he had was the blowhard, the vainglorious would-be “world redeemer”.

And yet, somehow Rob knew – or desperately wanted to believe - that Damien was not evil, and that he meant no harm. Looking down at the book, Rob wondered what other memories people carried of the boy. And then Rob knew. The book had to be destroyed once again.

He opened a channel to the Bretonian ships. “Uh, guys,” Rob was surprised at the raw emotion he could hear in his voice. “I need to split. Something's come up. Something I really can't ignore. We're almost at the jumphole to Sigma-13. I'll catch up with you there.”

Rob deactivated the autopilot which had been holding him in tight formation with the Bretonians. He gently eased his Falcon away from the formation and headed towards a random bit of empty space in the blue gas cloud.

Once Rob felt sufficiently secluded he powered down his ships engines. The Falcon hung in space, motionless. The craft's canopy opened slowly and small wisps of interstellar medium drifted around Rob's body, still encased as it was in the vacsuit. Gripping the book firmly in both hands Rob gave a light push, sending the work drifting slowly into space. Quickly Rob closed the canopy, trapping a slight amount of blue gas inside. He powered up his weapons and brought them to bear on the shrinking black target.

As he was about to pull the trigger, Rob remembered the words Damien had repeated twice.

“You're indebted to me.”

“No.” Rob said, though he knew no-one would hear. “No. We each had our jobs to do. You have done yours, I will do mine. But there are no debts.”

Rob squeezed the trigger once. Five glowing bolts of energy converged on the book. In an instant, the last vestiges of a well-meaning boy's arrogance evaporated to dust. No person other than Rob would have their memories of Damien tainted. His legacy would be that of a selfless hero.

Summary: The book is destroyed. Again. Let's not make a habit of this.