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Freelancer: Genocide---Fan fiction from Neuromancer (Final c
Read, add and comment on excellent written stories by fans, set within the Freelancer universe
Fri Jul 15, 2005 6:22 am
Aww, what the hell. Here's chapter 2.
Chapter 2
"Mr. Deckard?"
"Who wants to know?"
A tall heavily-built man with white hair stood in front of him.
"My name is Maddox. I believe you responded to my job request for a courier."
"Ah, yes. Please, have a seat."
Maddox sat down across from Deckard, and he looked his potential employer over. Maddox had the look of a battle-seasoned soldier. A large scar ran down one side of his face, which clashed horribly with the well-tailored business suit he was wearing. There was something about the man that made Deckard feel uneasy, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
"Perhaps you would like to know more about the job I am offering?" Maddox asked.
"I'm all ears."
"It's really quite simple, but the contents I'm asking you to carry for me have a substantial value attached to them. That is why I have requested only the best pilots apply for this job, and also why I am willing to pay such a large sum for its safe delivery.
"I'm aware of your track record with some of your former employers, and I think you will be able to perform this job admirably. So. Are you still interested?"
"Well, I haven't left yet."
"Good. I would like you to deliver the contents of this case to an... acquatintance of mine on Malta in the Omicron Alpha system," Maddox said in a quiet voice. He set a small briefcase on the table.
"What?"
"Lower your voice, please," Maddox said sternly. "I am aware of your, shall we say, less than sterling reputation with the Outcasts. Rest assured that I will take care of this slight issue and guarantee you landing rights on Malta. As I said before, I am willing to pay one million credits for its safe arrival. You have the option of turning my offer down at his time if you wish. If that is the case, then we shall depart with no emnity between us."
"If you can guarantee me landing rights to Malta, I'm your guy."
"Ahh, excellent. I will meet you in one hour on the landing pad to oversee the loading of this case onto your ship. I trust this precaution will cause no problems?"
Deckard shook his head.
"Good. As a sign of good faith I will also transfer 250,000 credits to your account as an advance. I trust you also find this satisfactory?"
Deckard smiled. "How could I not?"
"Very well. I will see you in one hour. Good day, Mr. Deckard. Enjoy the rest of your stay on Curacao." Maddox stood up, took the case off the table and walked away.
Deckard smiled to himself. 250,000 credits would go a long way toward a much better ship than that P.O.S. Barracuda he now had. Things were looking up indeed.
----------------
Deckard walked out to the landing pad one hour later. Sure enough, Maddox was waiting there with the case.
"Ah, Mr. Deckard. Here is the case. Please take good care of it."
"For a million credis, Mr. Maddox, it will be treated like glass."
"Good. I have transferred payment of a quarter of a million credits to your account as agreed. Finally, Mr. Deckard, while the contents of the case are not perishable, I would like them delivered in a timely manner. Any delays in delivery would be...unfortunate."
"For you or me?" Deckard said, half-jokingly.
Maddox smiled in a way that Deckard didn't like. "That's a good lad. I can see that the case is in good hands. I will transfer remaining payment upon confirmation of delivery. Good luck, and thank you for your assistance." With that, Maddox turned and walked away.
Deckard watched as the man walked away, then loaded the case into his cargo hold. The first thing he was going to do, he thought to himself, was to dump the Barracuda for something more to his liking. He climbed into the cockpit, fired up the ship's systems and took off into the deep blue sky of Curacao.
---Liberty Ale: The alcoholic equivalent of Kool-Aid.
Chapter 2
"Mr. Deckard?"
"Who wants to know?"
A tall heavily-built man with white hair stood in front of him.
"My name is Maddox. I believe you responded to my job request for a courier."
"Ah, yes. Please, have a seat."
Maddox sat down across from Deckard, and he looked his potential employer over. Maddox had the look of a battle-seasoned soldier. A large scar ran down one side of his face, which clashed horribly with the well-tailored business suit he was wearing. There was something about the man that made Deckard feel uneasy, but he couldn't put his finger on it.
"Perhaps you would like to know more about the job I am offering?" Maddox asked.
"I'm all ears."
"It's really quite simple, but the contents I'm asking you to carry for me have a substantial value attached to them. That is why I have requested only the best pilots apply for this job, and also why I am willing to pay such a large sum for its safe delivery.
"I'm aware of your track record with some of your former employers, and I think you will be able to perform this job admirably. So. Are you still interested?"
"Well, I haven't left yet."
"Good. I would like you to deliver the contents of this case to an... acquatintance of mine on Malta in the Omicron Alpha system," Maddox said in a quiet voice. He set a small briefcase on the table.
"What?"
"Lower your voice, please," Maddox said sternly. "I am aware of your, shall we say, less than sterling reputation with the Outcasts. Rest assured that I will take care of this slight issue and guarantee you landing rights on Malta. As I said before, I am willing to pay one million credits for its safe arrival. You have the option of turning my offer down at his time if you wish. If that is the case, then we shall depart with no emnity between us."
"If you can guarantee me landing rights to Malta, I'm your guy."
"Ahh, excellent. I will meet you in one hour on the landing pad to oversee the loading of this case onto your ship. I trust this precaution will cause no problems?"
Deckard shook his head.
"Good. As a sign of good faith I will also transfer 250,000 credits to your account as an advance. I trust you also find this satisfactory?"
Deckard smiled. "How could I not?"
"Very well. I will see you in one hour. Good day, Mr. Deckard. Enjoy the rest of your stay on Curacao." Maddox stood up, took the case off the table and walked away.
Deckard smiled to himself. 250,000 credits would go a long way toward a much better ship than that P.O.S. Barracuda he now had. Things were looking up indeed.
----------------
Deckard walked out to the landing pad one hour later. Sure enough, Maddox was waiting there with the case.
"Ah, Mr. Deckard. Here is the case. Please take good care of it."
"For a million credis, Mr. Maddox, it will be treated like glass."
"Good. I have transferred payment of a quarter of a million credits to your account as agreed. Finally, Mr. Deckard, while the contents of the case are not perishable, I would like them delivered in a timely manner. Any delays in delivery would be...unfortunate."
"For you or me?" Deckard said, half-jokingly.
Maddox smiled in a way that Deckard didn't like. "That's a good lad. I can see that the case is in good hands. I will transfer remaining payment upon confirmation of delivery. Good luck, and thank you for your assistance." With that, Maddox turned and walked away.
Deckard watched as the man walked away, then loaded the case into his cargo hold. The first thing he was going to do, he thought to himself, was to dump the Barracuda for something more to his liking. He climbed into the cockpit, fired up the ship's systems and took off into the deep blue sky of Curacao.
---Liberty Ale: The alcoholic equivalent of Kool-Aid.
Mon Jul 18, 2005 4:19 pm
Here's chapter 3.
Chapter 3
The trip through Liberty had been dull and uneventful. Deckard had decided he would pay a quick visit to the battleship Westfalen in Hamburg, where an acquaintance of his had a Rheinland Valkyrie waiting for him. Deckard had never flown a Rheinland ship before, but had heard nothing but good about them and figured since he needed a new ship anyway, what the hell, why not buy one?
Deckard engaged the auto-dock and prepared to enter the jump gate to Bering when his scanner beeped a warning chime.
Wonderful. Xenos.
He disengaged the auto-dock and turned to face the incoming attackers. He was outnumbered six to one, in a ship he really didn't like. Not very good odds.
The Xeno Hawk fighters swooped in. The lead ships unleashed a salvo of missiles which streaked toward Deckard. He dropped off several countermeasures and turned hard in an attempt to avoid the missiles, but several connected and his shields were instantly drained. Not like your old Sabre, is it? he thought to himself as he maneuvered to avoid cannon fire from the other ships. He managed to get one in is sights and fired off several bursts from his cannons. His aim was true, and the Xeno spun around and exploded at the impact of Deckard's well-placed shots.
The remaining Xeno ships circled and let loose a barrage of destructive energy on Deckard's ship. Several shots slammed into the hull, knocking pieces off and damaging several systems. Deckard realized that his best chance of surviving this was to run like hell for the jump gate. He punched up his thrusters and made a beeline for the gate. The Xeno fighters followed, firing several more shots. He engaged the auto-dock and slid through the gate.
-------------------
"Freeport 2, this is Freelancer Delta Four-dash-Two requesting emergency landing clearance. I have life-support damage and I'm losing atmosphere. Over."
"Freelancer Delta four-dash-Two, you have emergency clearance at dock 2. Emergency crews are standing by."
"Thank you, Freeport 2. Out."
Deckard eased his damaged and smoking Barracuda into the docking bay. He climbed out of the cockpit to examine the damage. Wonderful, he thought to himself, this'll take a while to fix. He retrieved the briefcase from the cargo hold, amazed that it was still in one piece. Since he going to have to hole up here anyway, he decided to hit the bar and get heavily blasted.
He found a quiet out-of-the-way booth and sat down. He put the case in front of him. Its owner, the enigmatic Maddox, had put several mag-locks on the case. Smart.
"Can I get you anything?" the barkeep asked.
"Rheinland Lager if you got it."
"You're in luck. Just got some in." The barkeep returned a minute later with his drink. Deckard quietly sipped at it and looked around the room at the variety of people patronzing the bar.
He noticed one looking at him peculiarly. He returned her gaze, and her eyes went back to her drink. She was dressed in the uniform of a Liberty Security Force officer. What was she doing here? LSF folks didn't usually hang out at places like this. Must be on some kind of assignment. Oh, well. Pretty fine looking, though.
Deckard polished off the rest of his drink and left the bar. He was feeling a little drowsy from the booze and decided to squeeze in a little sleep. He stood up, grabbed the case and made his way to his temporary quarters on the living deck of the Freeport.
As he turned a corner a heavy object crashed against the back of his skull. Deckard saw a brilliant white flash, then everything went black.
---You're just jealous because the voices in my head don't speak to you!
Chapter 3
The trip through Liberty had been dull and uneventful. Deckard had decided he would pay a quick visit to the battleship Westfalen in Hamburg, where an acquaintance of his had a Rheinland Valkyrie waiting for him. Deckard had never flown a Rheinland ship before, but had heard nothing but good about them and figured since he needed a new ship anyway, what the hell, why not buy one?
Deckard engaged the auto-dock and prepared to enter the jump gate to Bering when his scanner beeped a warning chime.
Wonderful. Xenos.
He disengaged the auto-dock and turned to face the incoming attackers. He was outnumbered six to one, in a ship he really didn't like. Not very good odds.
The Xeno Hawk fighters swooped in. The lead ships unleashed a salvo of missiles which streaked toward Deckard. He dropped off several countermeasures and turned hard in an attempt to avoid the missiles, but several connected and his shields were instantly drained. Not like your old Sabre, is it? he thought to himself as he maneuvered to avoid cannon fire from the other ships. He managed to get one in is sights and fired off several bursts from his cannons. His aim was true, and the Xeno spun around and exploded at the impact of Deckard's well-placed shots.
The remaining Xeno ships circled and let loose a barrage of destructive energy on Deckard's ship. Several shots slammed into the hull, knocking pieces off and damaging several systems. Deckard realized that his best chance of surviving this was to run like hell for the jump gate. He punched up his thrusters and made a beeline for the gate. The Xeno fighters followed, firing several more shots. He engaged the auto-dock and slid through the gate.
-------------------
"Freeport 2, this is Freelancer Delta Four-dash-Two requesting emergency landing clearance. I have life-support damage and I'm losing atmosphere. Over."
"Freelancer Delta four-dash-Two, you have emergency clearance at dock 2. Emergency crews are standing by."
"Thank you, Freeport 2. Out."
Deckard eased his damaged and smoking Barracuda into the docking bay. He climbed out of the cockpit to examine the damage. Wonderful, he thought to himself, this'll take a while to fix. He retrieved the briefcase from the cargo hold, amazed that it was still in one piece. Since he going to have to hole up here anyway, he decided to hit the bar and get heavily blasted.
He found a quiet out-of-the-way booth and sat down. He put the case in front of him. Its owner, the enigmatic Maddox, had put several mag-locks on the case. Smart.
"Can I get you anything?" the barkeep asked.
"Rheinland Lager if you got it."
"You're in luck. Just got some in." The barkeep returned a minute later with his drink. Deckard quietly sipped at it and looked around the room at the variety of people patronzing the bar.
He noticed one looking at him peculiarly. He returned her gaze, and her eyes went back to her drink. She was dressed in the uniform of a Liberty Security Force officer. What was she doing here? LSF folks didn't usually hang out at places like this. Must be on some kind of assignment. Oh, well. Pretty fine looking, though.
Deckard polished off the rest of his drink and left the bar. He was feeling a little drowsy from the booze and decided to squeeze in a little sleep. He stood up, grabbed the case and made his way to his temporary quarters on the living deck of the Freeport.
As he turned a corner a heavy object crashed against the back of his skull. Deckard saw a brilliant white flash, then everything went black.
---You're just jealous because the voices in my head don't speak to you!
Mon Jul 18, 2005 8:02 pm
That was by far the worst peice of crap I have ever read.
You know I'm kidding don't you? I would never say something like that about your work. Good job, it's amazing how you can do two brilliant stories at the same time and I haven't been able to do anything on mine for three weeks, and haven't posted a chapter in a few months.
Check out the new website I'm building! **coughprojectrevolutioncough**
Linky!
You know I'm kidding don't you? I would never say something like that about your work. Good job, it's amazing how you can do two brilliant stories at the same time and I haven't been able to do anything on mine for three weeks, and haven't posted a chapter in a few months.
Check out the new website I'm building! **coughprojectrevolutioncough**
Linky!
Tue Jul 19, 2005 9:05 pm
Dude, the withdrawls! I need the juice, gah! I can't breathe!
Check out the new website I'm building! **coughprojectrevolutioncough**
Linky!
___________________________________
John Edwards: The biggest con artist in the world. He has cheated millions of people out of millions of dollars, and shows no signs of stopping. If you agree with me, then copy and paste this into your sig.
And his book Practical Praying has now been translated into four languages. English, Bull****ish, Crapanese, and French.
Check out the new website I'm building! **coughprojectrevolutioncough**
Linky!
___________________________________
John Edwards: The biggest con artist in the world. He has cheated millions of people out of millions of dollars, and shows no signs of stopping. If you agree with me, then copy and paste this into your sig.
And his book Practical Praying has now been translated into four languages. English, Bull****ish, Crapanese, and French.
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