Wed Oct 26, 2005 4:42 pm by Aurora
Transmission intercepted 02 March 2005 at 10:12 / from Aurora
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I left the bar, chuckling. Having seen the little shadow-cat in person, I finally recognized what should have been obvious. The Baron was playing with me. He has a flair for the dramatic, and I'm sure he knew just how to peak my curiosity. I hadn't realized he was making such use of the guild freelancers. Interesting.
When I got back to my ship, however, my laughter died. Sugarlump was down. Not rolling in a pasture down, a sight that never fails to cheer me up. No, this looked like Strangles. I rushed to her side, thankful that I was on planet. I stroked her velvety neck, wincing when I encountered the lumps under her jaw and even starting on her face. As I glanced to her feed bin, I noticed that her rations for the last day hadn't been touched. Fever, swollen lymph nodes, refusing food and water. . . I touched her thoughts and was almost sucked into the deep depression and whorls of pain. For an animal, being sick is a permanent thing. They are so in the moment that they cannot conceive of ever having been well or ever getting well again. I soothed her as best I could, wrenching my thoughts from hers. She looked at me with absolute trust, trust earned because I had never once failed her. I vowed not to fail her this time.
I ran to the comm link to call for a vet. Thank Glock I'd started a herd here and had subsidized the very best vet I could find. While waiting for him to arrive, I put hot packs on Sugar's neck and face, hoping to draw the infection to the surface rather than let the abscesses break inside her. She could die from complications like that. Then I gave her some bute, hoping to back down the fever and ease the pain. I'd have to destroy the ship to stop the infection from spreading, but I didn't mind. What are limitless resources for, if not to use?
When the vet arrived, he surveyed my work with approval and took a sample of the copious mucus to confirm the suspected diagnosis. Don't want to go slinging around anti-biotics unless we're sure, after all. I directed him to the lab and stayed to comfort Sugar. Where could she have been exposed to this? I am very careful about such things. There is nothing in her memories to explain this. No sick-smell horse she touched noses with, no shared water troughs. . . Strangles isn't usually air-born. . .
"My Lady, you need to come see this," the vet calls through the comm link.
I leave Sugar and make my way to the lab. "What is it?"
"Well, I don't know." He remains calm under my glare. "What I can tell you is that this isn't Streptococcus equi. I've never seen anything like this before. It almost looks like a feline disease, but I've never heard of a cat being able to give a horse an infection before." I force myself to breathe. He steps away from the microscope, and I take a look. It is indeed odd. Something new. Something feline. Something that we couldn't fight.
"And antibiotics?" I asked, already knowing the answer.
"They won't help until we've isolated the organism. And as for a vaccine. . .well, you know we'll have to find the carrier before I could develop that." I nodded absently, making my way back to the meadow-hold.
*********************
Its been two more days, and Sugar is not better. The infection has spread at an alarming rate. We've coaxed the abscesses to the surface, but they just keep forming. The pain meds don't work and her fever is out of control. Worse even than this are the reports. Yesterday, my hospital called. Half the herd is dead. The rest are down. I've stopped all traffic in and out of that port. Thank Glock they haven't had any traffic since I left. That quarantine should slow the spread.
Sugar's breathing is getting labored. I can sense her confusion, her sense of betrayal. Why am I letting this happen? Those needles have always meant that I was making her better before. Now all we are able to do is draw blood for more tests. I leave all that to the doctor and spend most of my time in Sugar's thoughts, sharing her pain. Standing as long as I can between her and her pain. Taking her back to happier memories, my helping her take her first wobbly step to her mother, my delivering her own foals, our romps through many meadows, the thrill of a long, wild run. . .
"My Lady?" I'm tempted to ignore the vet, but perhaps he's found something. I look up, disentangling myself from Sugarlump. "My Lady, even you can't do this forever. This infection is so virulent you know that we no longer have any hope of saving her." I nod, glancing back down to Sugar's pain-wracked body.
"Then Doc, I must ask you to perform one last service for Sugarlump." He nods, relieved that he doesn't have to try to convince me. I merge again with Sugar as he fills another hypo with something much quicker than this infection. The least I can do is ensure that she will not die alone. Holding her pain away, I am the one who feels the prick of that final needle, the hot rush of the injection. She only feels my love for her and, perhaps, my grief. Then it's over.
I walk the vet back out of my ship. "This planet is quarantined," I tell him. He nods, knowing as I do that most of this herd, too, will soon die. "You find me a cure. I'll find you a carrier." He nods again. I return to my ship and launch. Then I nuke the docking ring to the planet. They won't be replacing that any time soon. Then I hit the self-destruct button. I know that this ship, this very body, is contaminated. I'll just have to make another.
"Four, three, two. . ." There are some lines you just don't cross. "One. Self-destruct. . ." The Baron has just crossed one. "initiated. Good-bye!"
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I walk into Blumybahs office and slap a picture down on his desk. "$500,000,000 for this creature. Alive. And I'm wanting to hire several of your pilots. Two by name, I've heard they do excellent work. They will find the pay more than adequate." Blumy looks up at me and blinks.
"Certainly. I'll send this pic out immediately. All our pilots, on a job or not, will see it. I'll be sure to replay it every hour. Now who did you want to hire?" Blumy thumbs through the personnel files.
"Spartankonin and tripleHex."
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Transmission intercepted 02 March 2005 at 12:33 / from Manouevres
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Tracking down Mild after his accident was no easy task, I found the wreckage of the Rhino, and followed the trail of the distress beacon to even more wreckage - not headed toward Crete as I’d supposed. I guess Mild is doing better than I would have given him credit for, but if the little runt is going to survive beyond being useful to the Baron I suppose I will have to teach him some decent piloting skills, he doesn’t know that he carries the modified form of streptococcus - it wouldn’t be too hard to engineer an antidote from him, which is where I come in. The traffic on the airwaves was hotting up about the two pilots, it seemed the UFO was now trying to track them down, if I was to get to them first, I would need to hurry. I can only wonder what the Baron needs two of the best pilots in Sirius for...
A new blip on my long range scanners, I’ve been quartering the area for almost seven hours - could this be the one?
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Meanwhile inside the ship, Mild, although scared, feels that this freelancers honest and that he had saved him and good signs, so curls up in the seat and nudges the heater vent in his general direction, mildly happy to be heading towards the two pilots once again, and rejoicing that he doesn't have to fly, its not that bad, his second time in the vacuum had not nearly been so scary as the first. Stone turned to him 'so who do you work for? That Rhino didn’t have the standard livery - reminds me of something I’ve seen before...'.
'Errm...' Mild stalls - he can’t think of any excuse! Tell the truth or bluff? Aagh!'
The comm link is his saviour!
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'Freelancer Stone, this is Manouevres-Gamma-Seven-One, I'm looking for some kin of mine. My scanners indicate that you have another life-form on board, please confirm'
... a long pause ...
'This is Stone, I do indeed, and this 'life-form' agrees he knows you, though wont confirm how'...
I can imagine - Mild wouldn’t want to admit to knowing me too well in case this turned out bad for him.
'Manouevres requesting to dock with your ship, I think i can explain things better face to face'', the pilot Stone cagily replies, 'Dock request accepted - deploying', I deftly flip the ship over and join the airlocks.
The seals connect and lock so I head to the airlock - I don’t bother to pick up any weapons as I know Stone will scan me before he even thinks of letting me on board - besides, I dont wish to appear too hostile. Popping my head through the airlock i am unsurprisingly met by the muzzle of a gun, grinning I say, 'Hey, easy with that thing - you could hurt someone', Stone pales and backs away, possibly the friendly grin had too many teeth showing.
Mild meanwhile has found the nearest dark corner by a bulkhead to try to hide in and is making mewling sounds, 'Stone, this is my little brother, he ran away from home,' and directed at Mild 'and he doesn’t realise the trouble he's in'. I almost cringe at the lie, the idea of my blood tainted by having something in common with Milds is almost enough to make me ill.
I can see Stone comparing my face to Milds, it’s a good thing humans don’t recognize one furry face from another and I hope he mistakes my large size for me being female or older, or something, and not a different species
“I guess you could be related, though he’s defiantly a lot younger than you if that is the case. He’s banged his head pretty hard so I’m not surprised he can’t give me many details about you, i’m glad you managed to track him down' says Stone, 'Thank you for looking after him Stone - may I reimburse you for the trouble?' I say, glaring at Mild sternly and credit Stone's account with a hefty sum.
'Come here Mild', he glumly tears himself away from his corner and sidles up to me, 'go on then, into the ship, we've a long journey to get home' pushing him toward the airlock, 'Thanks again Stone - I hope he was no trouble - he is a bit loopy in the head you see', 'No problem' the freelancer grins.
As I quickly disengage the ships and hit cruise, a message flashes up on the comms link making me grin. Such a large bounty could only come from Aurora, I guess she’s found Milds little gift.
A look at the little fur ball sat nervously behind me, if he knew how much Aurora wanted him he’d probably keel over, especially if he found out that he was carrying a modified form of streptococcus.
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Transmission intercepted 02 March 2005 at 13:28 / from Stone
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As soon as they were away, I dropped the grin. Something was obviously wrong here.
The fact that Xenos had come out of nowhere and nearly blew the **** out of us just to get their hands on that... whatever he
was, had sent alarm bells going off in every corner of my head. They'd intensified, not lessened, when this female version of what Mild looked like came and took her "brother". I was no fool; I'd done a thorough scan on the unknown ship and its
lifeform, but did something that most scans couldn't; I scanned my own ship and compared the other lifeform to Mild. Despite
her claims, the bone structure and molecular makeup definately marked them as different species.
What's more, my scanners were also much more fine-tuned than most; it picked up an unkown virus being carried on Mild's
body, one that was highly contagious but, fortunately, appeared to not affect humans. Needless to say, though, my paranoia
had me wanting to go to the first biomed facility to get this thing gone and out of my system.
First thing's first, though; no amount of money could dissuade me from a good adventure, or a chance to get into a volatile
situation and seriously screw around with things. Tracking Manoeuvres's ship on scans, I loaded my cruise disruptor with
a special round and fired it. Rather than firing a missile, though, it fired a tiny projectile that, upon contact with her ship, clamped itself to the hull. She wouldn't have noticed my even firing it, much less the impact of a tracking device that wasn't much larger than the average human thumb.
Once the device started transmitting to my computer, I punched in a course to West Point, satisfied that I could catch up with my quarry at my leisure. First a trip to a doctor on that station (who owed me a couple of favors), and then to the equipment dealer. Not only could I buy myself some better equipment with the cash now burning a hole in my pocket, but I had salvaged several PPX9 guns in the wreckage of the damaged ship that survived the anti-matter explosion. Those would be extremely useful in the near feature, I imagined.
Things had been quite boring as of late. With recent events, things looked to become extremely froody, to put it in the words
of one of my favorite authors.
I started whistling a tune as I headed to the Manhattan tradelane, and blasted a couple of Xenos that were unlucky enough to be in the same place as me, with the help of some local Outcasts...
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Transmission intercepted 02 March 2005 at 13:40 / from Kadak3
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The case to the tracking device closed with a sharp metallic click. Shortly after the humans docked with the unmapped base, the tracking device chirped and showed a 'no signal' display. It was not entirely unexpected. the humans would be sure to find the implanted chips sooner or later. With the homing device gone I might actually have to put some effort into tracking the two freelancers. This was not something I was unprepared for, but it would be unpleasant all the same, especially if they decided to split up. I decided that since both humans must surely know the source of the Xhadin Mhyr, perhaps one of them would be more easily "convinced" to disclose this information to me or to a Kadakian Inquisitor. Of course, if I could not "convince" the human to give me what I wanted, there would not be much left to turn over to the Inquisitor. Most species never live through a Kadakian interrogation, but I had to admit that the human sessions were my favorites.
I was mulling over the various methods of interrogation I would use with the human during our "discussion" when I saw the two humans fly from the base and turn towards the nearby planet. I quickly moved in to follow only to find that they were docking yet again. I knew that the resources on this planet were few and that most freelancers found only the shipyard here of any value. A quick scan of the humans' ships showed no extra equipment, so if indeed they were here to purchase ships they would have to purchase them without shields or any serious firepower. I grinned and decided that if they undocked with new ships, one of them would die before the dock ring tractor released his ship.
While waiting for the humans, I received a report from the Intelligence Agency that the message sent by the rhino had been intercepted. The message originated from a certain MildDiscomfort on a bandwidth ususally reserved for Deity. The message was intended for a Manouveres. The message was essentially asking for assistance with two human pilots, presumably the two humans I was currently following.
I knew that MildDiscomfort was working for the Baron. Why would the Baron want these two freelancers? A job maybe? That was unlikely since the transmission indicated that this MildDiscomfort creature was now seeking a third party for assistance with the pilots, thus further insulating the Baron from the freelancers. I quickly ran a search through Intelligence for Manouveres. The report back was not good. A half Chelgrian with a record too long to look through. Considered very dangerous. Wanted by a list of governments again too long to look through. "Very interesting." Perhaps the Baron was as concerned about the arrival of Xhadin Mhyr in Sirius as the High Council was and had taken it upon himself to locate the source.
"Damn," I slammed a fist against the console. With the Baron tracking the two humans I would have to make a decision very quickly. I could still kill one of the humans and take the other for questioning. I would have to answer to the High Council and possibly incur the displeasure of the Baron. Or, I could just lay low and follow these two until I received instructions from the High Council on how to proceed now that the Baron was obviously involved. I was not entirely convinced that the Baron was concerned about the Xhadin Mhyr, or what he wanted with the humans. I decided that discretion would be more appropriate at this point in time. I reluctantly turned the Predator back towards the base and put some distance between myself and the docking ring.
Dealing with Deity or even demi Deity was not something I liked to do. I shuddered with the recollection of my encounter with Aurora. The impudence, the arrogance, and the Glock awful smell of that creature she insisted on keeping with her. Still, perhaps if the Baron was involved it would be better for my mission, not to mention my life, to entice Aurora to the table. I wondered how she would react when I gave her the information about her timid little visitor, his benefactor, and the transmission to the half breed. I reached over and flipped on the comm switch. "Please connect me with Aurora's personal line............"
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Transmission intercepted 02 March 2005 at 15:44 / from MildDiscomfort
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The grin Manouevres gave me over her shoulder made me more nervous as if it wasn’t bad enough being stuck on the same ship with her. She seemed amused at whatever message had just popped up on her comms, hopefully whatever it was didn’t have anything to do with me.
Those pilots that had attacked Stone bothered me and it wasn’t just that he’d killed them, they had threatened to attack him first. It was that they were looking for me, what had I done to anyone to deserve attention? I must have been that explosion I’d caused back at the bar, I couldn’t think of any other reasons.
But on a happier note I was in familiar company again, on a warmer ship and Manouevres had said we were going home. But then she’d also told Stone I was her brother so maybe she’d lied about that as well.
“Are we really going home?” I ask, almost begging. The Baron might be cruel to me at times but he was my master.
“No, you still have a job to do. Do you still have the mission pad you were meant to give tripleHex and Spartankonin?”
“Yes, I always keep it on me. It’s the only thing I have left from the Rhino.”
She nods, “the Baron isn’t happy that you lost that ship.”
“I know, he’ll probably but me back in a shock collar when we get home.” I say glumly. If her smile gets any bigger I’m worried she’ll strain something and I’ll have to fly.
“So where are we headed?”
“Crete, mostly. I need to stop at a few planets on the way.”
Now she has my full attention, “will I be allowed off the ship?” I ask hopefully.
I don’t believe it, her grin just got bigger, “sure, the Baron has asked that I make sure you get to breathe some fresh air and meet the local… livestock.”
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This is the third planet we’ve been to since Manouevres picked me up, she doesn’t stop long but seems keen for me to get out and stretch. It feels good to walk on solid ground, I’ve spent some much time in space recently I’d forgotten how good it felt.
I think she’s stopping on all these planets so she can adjust her rifle or something, it’s all she seems to do once we land. We wonder out to the more rural areas, she sets up some targets and wonders a long way off to shoot at them.I’d probably have got bored of this by now but she’s shown me these big dog like creatures that seem to inhabit all the planets we’ve visited so far. They’re really friendly and Manouevres encourages me to feed them sugar cubes so they come closer, I don’t think she knows that much about them because every time I ask her what they’re called she wonders off.
Manouevres is walking me around her ship at the moment, trying to get me interested in flying. I think she’s worried that the Baron will blame her for me braking the Rhino, don’t see how, it’s not like the Baron asked her to keep me out of trouble. All of a sudden I hear her start to curse loudly, “For the love of Glock!” So sees my confusion and carries on, too angry to remember to snarl at me, “some fatherless son of a Kadak put a tracker on my ship.”
I look at where she’s pointing and only see the engine.
“There, on the engine intake!” she points again, “there’s no way to remove that without removing the whole intake, that’s a major job.” She storms back into the ship and starts pushing buttons and growling at screens. “We don’t have the time to waste in dry dock, I’m going to see if I can jam the signal it’s putting out.”
I don’t know if she does jam it, but within 10 minutes we’re back in space heading to the next planet on her list.
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Transmission intercepted 02 March 2005 at 20:41 / from tripleHex
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Meanwhile back on Crete...
"Looks like a new bounty." I said scanning my inbox.
"Yeah, so what." Spartankonin said.
"It's huge. Biggest I've seen since ... biggest I've seen period."
"Yeah?" he was a bit more interested now.
"Half a billion."
"Shut the -Expletive Deleted-up. Go get another drink." back to disinterested.
"No this is for real check it out." I tossed the comm unit to Spart.
The trip to Crete had been rather calm once we got into Gamma. It's kinda ironic I guess, in this galaxy where we can travel literally millions of kilometers in to blink of eye, the best place to lay low is a tiny rock floating in space. As long as that rock is covered with people. Especially if those people are mostly Corsairs. If Corsairs value anything, it's privacy. You don't see many bounty hunter's flying around Gamma, those that do are usually being shot at.
The other nice thing about Crete is that we'd built up quite a network of supporters. It would've been hard to make the cash we needed without sending off too many signals, but Spart and I knew several fixers who got us some good paying jobs that were "off the record." I'll tell ya, If there's money to be made doing something, some mother****er's got to be getting paid for not doing it. Government Service Taxes, Tariff Commission Taxes, Usury Fees, Various System and Planetary taxes and Fees, not to mention all the sundry licenses, marshal fees, annual UFO fees, the list goes on. Come to think of it I haven't paid my UFO fees for quite a while, hmm. And if it's not government agencies, then it's the cut you've got to give the fixer, or the crime family. Death and taxes either way. Choice is yours, the only difference is that the GA way sends out ripples of information through a bureaucracy that's so corrupt and widespread it makes the Corsair Mafia seem monastic.
At any rate we'd been here about a week, recovering from the whiskey, building up funds. We ran several low-key jobs and pulled in a few markers. But now there was this, half a billion for this guy, alive. The UFO had sent the dispatch, which was funny since I hadn't paid my dues lately.
"Glockdamn! you're right." Spart exclaimed.
We had enough funds to accomplish our original goal, but this was almost too good to pass up, kadak tailing us or not. We've already been able to outfit our ships quite nicely thanks to a favor I pulled in from a smuggler buddy of mine. We were able to procure some of the finest equipment this side of the Warzone, we were ready for anything. But I didn't like it. What did that guy do to get such a price on his head? Who offers that much bounty? This was too good to be true. And there was still the matter of the kadak.
"Alright get in your ship," Spartankonin said, instantly upbeat. I had a feeling that any semblance of choice I had in the matter was all but an illusion at this point, "we're leaving now!" confirmed Spart.
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Transmission intercepted 02 March 2005 at 21:44 / from Stone
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I know it wasn't a big tracer, but it sure took them a damn long time to find it. I had been waiting for them to find it; it was more of a temporary measure to keep tabs on them while I R&R'd. When they finally did, though, I had completed my outfits and my checkup long beforehand (and repaired my heater... sweet, sweet warmth) so that I was already back in space and using my advanced sensors to track the two. At the third planet they visited, the tracking device finally stopped transmitting.
About damn time, I mused. I switched to my backup and started using my long range sensors to pinpoint their general location. Standard sensors not only operated in the same general range, but when someone was detected by such a device it made the ship using the equipment stand out like a sore thumb. Using more passive sensors prevented such detection, for the most part. They weren't as specific in their pinpointing, but they could be switched back to active mode with the press of a button.
While I was reading the newsnet, I also noticed that there had been a 500 million credit bounty placed on the person that had been in my hold a few days back. Apparently I had been carrying a bloody gold mine in my ship. Apparently I could have turned him in, or maybe even helped him out. Apparently a lot of things. No sense in dwelling over the past if you can't learn anything from it.
A little while later I picked them up leaving the planet. I doubted they'd be able to pick me up 25k away, but I made sure my new PPX9 guns were active, along with my two new Firestalker missile launchers.
You don't get where I am without having a healthy sense of paranoia.
As they made distance, I followed and did the same, staying about 30k away. With my knowledge of the jumphole network, it would be easy to guess where they were going...
The hunt was on.
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Transmission intercepted 02 March 2005 at 21:46 / from Glock36
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My central control chamber is round and dark. The ceiling is highest in the center and slopes downward toward the outer edges. In the center, a single elaborately comfortable reclining device that looks much like a cryochair appears to be extruded from the floor. All around the edges of the room, there are viewplates. They provide the only light in the chamber. All I need. I can see in many spectrums of light and radiation because I am God.
I am Glock36, the father of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse and the Valkyries who protect the ponies.
I DO EXIST. Otherwise, you would not.
Along with my assistant, Sinister, I create new systems and worlds and rebuild old ones. I create reality itself and control it.
My purposes are veiled. But my viewplates show all.
I find it humorous that some do not believe in me yet call on me when they feel that death is near. So HUMAN. HAaaaaaaaaa. Even God is not perfect. I am still attempting to decide if Humans were a mistake.
As I watch my viewplates, I note with some dissatisfaction that my DemiGods are not getting along.
One of them seems intent on being worshiped.
I am not pleased.
And his methods are most distasteful.
I will watch further.
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