Reapers Passage
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 20 – The Hard Way
Febr wasn’t hard to find. Ravn’s contact had said that the Professor had been hanging around the most public spaces in the habitat. Nowhere on the station was more public than, Hub One! It was the habitats main junction point one of only a very few crossroad open public spaces that weren’t part of the Docks. Hub One even had a famous living tree, and some flowering shrubs as a centre piece beside a metal sculpture of a blacksmiths anvil with the legend ‘Wayland’s Forge AFC 4’ attached to it. This was surrounded by a tinkling water feature that played over some rounded stones, and rocks in an incessant cycle no a good place to wait if you needed to make water yourself, but otherwise rather pleasant Ravn liked trees!
Along the edge of the circular space many vending booths rested: coffee shops, food sellers, electronic retailers, entertainment chip rental agents, essential supply merchants, fashionable boutiques even a small ArgonForge 4 souvenir shop that sold model stations branded items of clothing, PVR tours, Mugs, Data Chip fobs, static and moving image generators, all the usual tat even fluffy bunnies with AFC 4 branded T shirts for the youngest children.
Febr sat outside a branded Tea Shop, and food vendor known simply as Argon-India. He was lost in his computer pad. Judging on the amount of jiggling, and face pulling the man was playing some kind of game. Not exactly what Ravn had expected but it could be some kind of trick to put him off balance. Three men obviously guarding Febr’s body sat nearby. While Febr wrestled with his pad the three, and Ravn instantly sized each other up. One nudged their client and they all rose to their feet except Febr who started cursed, then looked up and abandoned his game to the table.
“I don’t know you, go away, I’m waiting for somebody else!” said the Professor.
“That’s good advice,” suggested one of the heavies with a sneer.
Ravn held up his hands palms out, “Hey no trouble,” he said grinning easily, “but I’m afraid no one else is coming. We need to talk but not here. You know what they say,” he winked, “nothing is private on AFC 4.”
“Listen son no offence, but I’m only interested in talking to one particular party, and trust me you’re definitely not the party involved,” returned Febr.
“Life is full of disappointments Febr,” continued Ravn, “I assume you have a ship why don’t we reconvene there!”
“I think you have mistaken me for somebody else!” Febr insisted.
“If you insist Hal it’s all the same to me. You can sit here till the stars die, or you can invite me to have a proper discussion on your ship, it’s your call?” Ravn insisted.
“Who sent you?” asked the old man.
“I’m not saying anything else, in a moment, I’m walking with you or on my own,” Ravn stated turning around to look away toward one of the exits.
Febr considered the offer. He didn’t like it. Still maybe this Argon had a message from Anna, and didn’t want to blab it in public? Or maybe he was trying to lure them into a trap? The stranger hadn’t mentioned Anna by name but that seemed prudent! He had the look of a hunter about him though: a military man, a security expert, maybe even an agent! Three against one - he discounted himself - was that good enough odds? His own protection was possibly unarmed but Febr knew they had weapons on board the ship. He made a decision.
“Fine my friend to the bay lift, after you,” invited Febr.
Ravn moved off with Febr, and his team close behind. In this manner they transited across the station. Each time Febr pointed out another waypoint. It was a circuitous route the Argon had either been here before or he was a fast study. Ravn was impressed. Finally they arrived at Pressurised Bay Three, made their way to Febr’s Teladi Falcon hauler. Of course Ravn already knew what type of ship Febr had, and where it lay - it had been the simplest of data searches.
Before allowing Ravn to enter the bodyguards patted him down. They took everything loose even his pen, and the computer pad. Then the door was opened and they all ushered in. One of the guards first, then Ravn was gently pushed forward, then another guard. Lastly trailing Febr entered followed by the final guard.
Immediately one of the guards peeled off, unlocked a weapons locker, and tooled up passing out arms to his other associates. All three brandished super snub nosed wide aperture slow velocity slug throwers. The weapons were truly brutal, characteristic Split designs with curling snail magazines, and a fully automatic capability! Ravn didn’t think much of these. Messy and inaccurate burst fire had its limitations, in his trade these guns were labelled as collateral damage devices. Still if the object was just to intimidate you couldn’t do better!
The guards placed Ravn’s possessions in a storage box, and closed the lid at the same time they arranged themselves between their guest, and their employee.
“Talk!” said Febr without any preamble.
“I have a recorded message,” explained Ravn, “I’ll need my computer pad,” he insisted.
“Get his pad,” ordered Febr, “but don’t give it to him. What’s the code?”
“It’s biometrically sealed,” exclaimed Ravn, “I have to release it.”
“Check it over,” said Febr feeling less than happy you could cut the tension in the air with a knife and dish it up in wedges.
The guard with the device started poking at it. He opened up its data slot, checked its power source, tried unsuccessfully to power up.
“It’s dead, useless,” said the bodyguard suspiciously.
“I told you - biometrically sealed - it reads my finger and palm prints on the handle’s that’s what powers it up,” Ravn explained slowly as if talking to children.
Febr looked suspicious, “why couldn’t you show us a data message in Hub One?”
The guards lifted their arms; one placed his weapon square to Ravn’s head. Ravn could actually feel the cold muzzle.
“I was told not too. Maybe it’s a verbal broadcast or something. Look don’t shoot the messenger!” said Ravn grinning at the play on words hoping it would help put his captors at ease humour often did!
“Any way that thing could be a weapon?” asked Febr.
“Maybe,” said one of the guards, “it could be a bomb - a small shaped charge - lots of things?”
Febr stroked his chin, “Ok keep that gun to his head. Turn him around so he is facing the wall, right. Now give him the unit. If he tries to turn around at all shoot him!”
“I’d be delighted,” hissed the guard harshly nudging Ravn’s head with his gun.
“Hey go easy,” Ravn requested as he took the Computer Pad, and fiddled with it uneasily, “It’s not working your stupid heavy must have broke it or disconnected the energy cell.”
“I didn’t do anything!” replied the Argon in question defensively, “he’s up to something!”
Ravn violently shook the system - as if trying to wake it from slumber - jerking his head back and forth in the process away from the gun. He bit down on a false tooth capsule and releasing a hit of the rare and dangerous combat drug ‘FAST’. For him the rest of the world went slow as the chemicals took effect. Ravn cracked the handles, activated the weak suspensors as the laser line linked the contacts. Spinning as he ducked down Ravn accessed the angle the best he could shot his hands wide extending the beam as the detached computer pad slowly sailed towards the floor behind him he cast the deadly device handles.
To the three guards it was as if Ravn blurred instantly to a new position facing them and crouched. Then there was a line of red light, movement, pain, and falling. The nearest guard’s gun discharged from reflex as soon as Ravn moved tearing into the wall, and part of the ceiling with a thunder of sound and a flare of light. This guard was cut clean in two his torso separating from his legs just below the waist.
The second guard was sliced into four pieces higher up, and at a slant his arms dropping away at differing points one almost near the shoulder. The arm holding the gun jerked the trigger as it hit the floor sending the limb spinning as low velocity shells lashed out in an erratic burst of fire.
The last Guard only lost half his head again at a severe angle. He stood erect like a grizzly zombie before very slowly toppling like a fallen tree. Febr commenced falling too his legs had taken hits from the spinning limbs weapon. The Professor also narrowly missed losing some fingertips on his right hand to the beam as it shot past now almost vertical. The device itself hit the ships wall, and hovered for a brief moment then clattered - in two distinct parts - to the metal floor its charge fully spent.
There was surprisingly little blood from the cauterised wounds. Horribly the nearest guard to Ravn was still alive his eyelids fluttering chest heaving mouth moaning. Ravn stomped down hard on his neck then bent over, and vomited the contents of his stomach over the remains of the corpse’s legs - the spew was a side effect of the drug rather than a nervous reaction to the consequence of his action. The smell of burnt flesh, vomit, and arid smouldering from the walls padded furnishing was appalling.
Ravn staggered barely able to hold himself up as his body fought to re-equalise itself. His heart hammered, and his head felt like it was going to explode. He struggled hard to relax knowing a stroke was a real danger at this point. Reaching down he grabbed one of the Split weapons although for a moment he ended up on his hands, and knees with the weapon clutched in his hand resting on the floor.
The old man was moaning in pain struggling backwards as if trying to get away from the horror of it all.
“Stay still, you’ll only increase the bleeding,” Ravn stated kindly, spitting out a dollop of vomit.
After a brief look at his wounded prisoner, Ravn collected all the spare weapons placing them well out of reach; he then started looking for the boats medical box! Ravn was glad the Argon Navy would be cleaning up this mess.
A little later the Falcon departed on autopilot for its rendezvous. Onboard a bound and gagged Febr was strapped into the pilot’s seat. Rough dressing’s wrapped around his leg wounds. The bodies still lay as they were.
After cleaning himself up using the Falcons facilities, and reclaiming his goods Ravn made his way back to his cubicle, he had four hours left before the commencement of his next shift, he didn’t feel well! Ravn knew he would have to do it cold too. After using the FAST he dare not take any stimulants for a few days!
Anna watched a stitched together replay of Ravn being patted down, and stripped of his goods. She saw him enter the Falcon, sometime later he exited alone. Then the stations tractor system moved the ship in preparation for its launch. Anna’s view turned to an external station camera as the Falcon departed the station to fly free among the stars outside.
Returning to a view inside AFC 4 from the heavy haunch of Ravn’s shoulders, and his overly controlled walk whatever had happened within the Falcon hadn’t been easy! Anna hoped Febr had left in as good a shape as when he arrived? She wondered what the Navy would do with him? Knowing the Argon Navy Febr was likely to be co-opted into some black project or other. Maybe Febr, and Anna would meet again if the old Argons path once again crossed with ArgonForge’s special projects!
The old fool had risked a lot to come here. It almost seemed like a shame to send him packing in this way. It would have been wonderful to collaborate again with that incisive mind! Still these Anna understood happened to be the whims of fate. If only the Professor hadn’t become so paranoid about the Core. Anna had never accepted his wild theory. Well even genius can be wrong!
Reapers Passage [Fan Fiction] Chapters 0-121 (story arc completed Mon 14th Apr 08)
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Paranoid66
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chapter 20
Last edited by Paranoid66 on Fri, 18. Apr 08, 21:03, edited 1 time in total.
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Paranoid66
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chapter 21
Reapers Passage
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 21 – A Good Idea at the Time
Elaen was kitting up in the locker room when she saw the familiar bulk of Ravn enter. Busy making last minute adjustments to her uniform - Elaen left her partner to his own devices - he was a little late, like the rest of the crew while Elaen liked to be early! Finally securing her computer pad, and checking her ID, and badge were properly displayed Elaen turned to face her partner, and gasped.
“Paranidia what the hell happened to you?” Elaen enquired.
Ravn despite struggling to be nonchalant ended up leaning against the lockers, breathing deeply. His eyes looked sunken, and sweat was glistening on his brow. In the end he gave up, and just replied, “Not been feeling so good this morning!”
Elaen reached a hand out to rest it against his forehead, “You’re on fire. Either you were on one bender last night or you must be coming down with something nasty?”
“Didn’t do anything special last night,” Ravn lied, “not that I remember anyway, bit of a cold or something. I’ve popped some meds., I’ll be fine later!”
Elaen looked doubtful, “Males,” she spat, “either you claim you’re dying at the slightest toothache, or you refuse point blankly that you’re ill when you’re at deaths door!”
“Not ready to shuffle off down the Reapers Passage just yet,” Ravn mumbled, “besides got the best help right here to nurse me through the shift,” he squeezed Elaen’s shoulder.
“You’re going straight to the infirmary to get checked over,” Elaen insisted holding his head between her hands, and looking him dead straight in the bloodshot eyes, “all those refugees, and spacers, anything could be loose on the forge!”
“Don’t like medical types,” Ravn replied pulling back a little, “give me a break - all that poking and prodding - can’t afford the time off either. Besides,” he continued, “it won’t look good on the record if I slump off to my pit a few cycles in from a new start.”
“You don’t look in any state for the deck. You know better, what if I really need you, but you’re all fuzzy headed and dizzy?” Elaen asked.
“Don’t we have some office work to catch up on,” Ravn replied with a groan, “tie me to the desk. If I’m feeling no better by this afternoon…you think you can swing it with Carl?”
At that point the door opened, and a rowdy bunch of late constables filed in, one yelled, “Hey looks like we disturbed some lovers,” there was a general ripple of laughter and a lot of physical horsing about as they bumped rudely past.
“Outside,” said Elaen.
“Oh,” said one of the guys raising an arm, and sniffing loudly, “guess I forgot the deodorant again this morning.”
“Deodorant? That would be a first,” replied another.
“They don’t make smelly stuff strong enough to cover - Tolies - stink,” said a third.
The sharp closing of the interlocking automatic door cut off the rest of the banter.
“So what’s it to be Partner?” emphasised Ravn forcing himself to straighten up even though his stomach clenched with pain.
“Ok, I’ll speak to Carl, go park in a seat before you fall over, and embarrass me!” Elaen said.
The Lieutenant Constable wanting to kick herself. She hated going against standard regulations especially when they were backed up by sound common sense; however, Ravn had employed the magic word Partner. She hoped the big Argon hadn’t taken anything he shouldn’t. It always made Elaen nervous when any of the guys tried hard to avoid a check up at the infirmary!
“Thanks I owe you one!” Ravn said with a grin.
“If you keel or spread some nasty contagion Ravn,” Elaen said quietly, “by the time I’m finished you’ll wish you were back - eating dirt on a rock plate - with the other grunts!”
Slumping on a seat Ravn cursed inwardly. ‘The FAST’ had hit him a lot harder than he remembered. Guess he was getting too old for that one. You can only abuse your body so many times before something gave out, permanently! Luckily that one hit was all he had - so he would be able to avoid future temptation - Ravn would have to find a new edge. He supposed he could have handled the situation in any number of other ways; well it had seemed like a good idea at the time. The Soldier suspected the three lads would have been more than handy given half a chance. Ravn didn’t believe in giving his opponents chances.
X was disappointed - the Corporate Police just didn’t want to let it go - this was more than suspicion this was his cover fully blown. As patient as he was he needed to make a report. X felt like he had become the star of his own PVR show. It was time to depart to live, and learn! With this degree of constant surveillance his only option was to activate one of the oldest standards. Sending a coded one word signal to an off station associate via the Inter Link.
It was a clumsy blatant technological solution unworthy of him, and it would be the end of this operation; bypassing exit immigration, voiding his current on station ID of Hiko Elm. Well Rud could always be picked up by another if he managed to miraculously avoid prosecution. Rud escaping censure by Tribunal now seemed unlikely given how hot X had become. The Clerk however would fare better if Hiko were gone. It was a shame he had been looking forward to examining the next data package. Something outside the norm must be going on here, something beyond very efficient internal security!
Bringing up the map X selected one of the best spots to facilitate the transport. X understood that even with an Active Energy Trace taking a wormhole GTD from inside a station - without an official hook up - into a nearby ship required serious boosts to the basic Goner technology. Such procedures weren’t always guaranteed to succeed. Every time you did this, you gambled with your health, and your life you wouldn‘t want to arrive short by a few spans. It had to be timed to perfection during the shield phase cycle.
Luckily his employers prior to his arrival had delivered this data. As soon as he activated the powered trace, never mind when the distortion field hit of the tiny wormhole the energy spike would set off alarms, even if the CSMS somehow missed Hiko vanishing by lightshow. AFC 4 could only react, and by then he would be jumping out of the system in his associates ship. X often wondered how deviants such as himself would fare without the help of the Goner Priesthood! One day the Argon would realise that every precious vein of silver lining edges a potential storm cloud! X chuckled to himself!
G charged through the shade haunted, moss draped leafy forest relying on his horse’s instincts to avoid headlong collisions. Gripping with his knees he pulled another arrow from the richly decorated quiver at his side, and let lose at one of the hulking hairy beasts (with their flame bright eyes and shaggy midnight fur) racing on all fours trying to flank him. It wasn’t easy with all the bouncing, and careening his shot went high, and wild.
“They have to be fekking kidding,” he complained, “how are you meant to do this!”
Once again the trolls got ahead angled in and took out the horse. He tried a timely leap, but failed miserably. Again he ended up chewing dirt with the horse on top of him. As the world went dark he could hear the screams of the mount and his own cry’s as the trolls ripped in, bit down and chewed. Disgusted Garrin tossed the full helmet headset onto the couch.
“I’m never going to get out of the forest,” Garrin complained to the empty air.
Not on foot, not on the horse either, what other options remained? He knew he should have spent more time exploring in the vast Master’s Tower, but he had grown bored stumbling down dark passages. The Stalking Wraith had started to give him the creeps - all the low moaning - the hiss of un-dead breath the muffled bandaged footfalls! So he had decided to blow the joint, get into the sun, and haul his ass overland to the bright and cheerful village of Elvenholm.
All good, but the Arisen Dark Lords presence had seeped forth and the once jolly and benign forest - that had been full of angel light - and flitting fairies was now of course dark, and dreary, vine, and spider haunted. Worse yet by some evil malignancy the forest was now home to hoards of hairy ground hugging monsters. Heavily armed, and armoured beast men as well. On foot the tactically minded beast men had made short work of the hero. While the horse drew every shambling Troll from their holes from miles around!
Looking at The Dark One Arisen AVR [active virtual reality] chip he decided to take it back before either he got really hooked on this trash, or found himself throwing an embarrassing wobbly of frustration in front of Elaen! Not that he had much chance to throw anything at Elaen. Maybe he should join up? Ravn saw more of Garrin’s partner than he did! Thinking this Garrin felt more than a little irrational anger. He recalled how keen the Grunt had seemed when he first met El. Then again the ex soldier seemed captivated by anything with a compatible orifice. Ripping the chip out of the helmets slot he dumped it in a pocket and stomped out of the suite. Garrin’s haste was such that it was only the absence of any living bodies inside that keyed the expensive Suites auto locking sequence once again.
When Carl saw the replay of Hiko spiriting himself off ArgonForge 4 he was very glad his booth wasn’t covered by surveillance, and was completely soundproof! Even a grunt like Ravn would have been impressed with the deluge of obscenities that issued forth from the Commanders screaming mouth. Vented in an almost unending unbroken stream of steaming filthy invective! Ferg at the desk however was not fooled. Unfortunately the accountant caught sight of the wash of a spray of coffee. The liquid taint spread almost uniformly as it ran down the inside of the currently slightly polarised Plastic-glass door. The recyclable cup simply bounced to the deck! Carl had forgotten it was still half full. Luckily it was cold enough that the spills didn’t even heat his hand.
Watching his boss kicking the offending cup across the cubicle floor only to lash out at it again as it rebounded back but missing, Ferg physically deflated. Setting his mobile computer pad back down on the curved Central Security Desk Ferg decided this was an ill judged time. Ferg would relate the budget deficit being caused by the units ever increasing overtime figures to the Commander later… maybe during his next shift cycle! Perhaps if he just left it casually behind at the end of his shift were it would be noticed? No, too much wishful thinking in that cunning plan; even if the pad had READ ME flashing on the front screen in glowing yellow letters!
In Priests Pity still onboard the Paranid Pirate Station Jorac ran through the down loads from his informants in the field. Beyond a lot of nonsense about Boron sector visitors there was surprisingly little. All the usual smuggling operations the deliveries of Space Fuel, and Weed that passed through Freedom seemed to have stopped. X2 sagt Bussi auf Bauch demand had already shifted to new available sources! He had managed to gather up a few stray associates that were off station during the explosion via third party contacts, but none of these knew anything. Others he had missed had disappeared off the map upon returning to the home base; it was as if the station had become an all consuming monster gobbling up its former inhabitants.
Of course they could be following Jorac’s own policy of lying low. The Argon Fleet was still very much in evidence as was the ‘Lost For Words’ was Faith onboard. In frustration Jorac had dispatched a volunteer Greyl direct to Freedom. The Pirate had been given a direct order to countermand any quarantine. He was to return despite any station lockdown if at all possible - at least - once he knew the situation. Greyl had simply gone MIA like all the rest! Something had to be up. Jorac now - very much - doubted his injury had been caused by a freak accident! It must have been attempted murder. A wider coup had been perpetrated! A person or persons unknown (but surly from among his old crew) had dared steal - his - station that was unacceptable!
The Fallen Angel would have his pound of flesh. If Jorac failed to wrest back his domain - then at least - he would rain down star fires, and utterly eradicate the ill-fated place from existence! This much the Argon Pirate Lord also known as the Devil promised himself!
In Elena’s Fortune onboard AFC 4 Gregor stood in his luxurious Suite and looked out a portal into space across the outer surface of his shiny silver domain. Outside he could see massive Crates running back and forth delivering essential materials along automated access tunnels to the forges ever active machinery.
The sight was better than any drug, even if calming uppers still floated in his veins. All his detractors Gregor told himself - were insignificant - AFC 4 was still his, and even if it lacked the latest Earth or Terran (if you preferred) derived innovations it was still a magnificent operation. Besides Jollo had promised him his exile here would not be forever, and administrating the forge was hardly a hardship; once everything settled: after the furore was over, the refugees gone, little had been lost!
Plus the new systems remained as yet untried - only truly remarkable on flexi-sheet - perhaps they would fail in the real world. Certainly the first prototype like the first AFC might not function as well as later variants. This way was even better - once again - Gregor would take over when the bugs had all been ironed out of the new complexes.
Fate was Gregor’s benefactress she had brought him AFC 4 she would not abandon him now! He had an excellent team and would yet prove himself to the idiot old fossils of the board! Making an example of the traitor spy will be a good start, he decided. Gregor would demonstrate that he was not a manager to be trifled with, that this Administrator still ran a tight ship! He would see the little rat spaced - as a traitor to the Argon cause - turn it into a publicity coup demonstrate what he had learned from his own trials!
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 21 – A Good Idea at the Time
Elaen was kitting up in the locker room when she saw the familiar bulk of Ravn enter. Busy making last minute adjustments to her uniform - Elaen left her partner to his own devices - he was a little late, like the rest of the crew while Elaen liked to be early! Finally securing her computer pad, and checking her ID, and badge were properly displayed Elaen turned to face her partner, and gasped.
“Paranidia what the hell happened to you?” Elaen enquired.
Ravn despite struggling to be nonchalant ended up leaning against the lockers, breathing deeply. His eyes looked sunken, and sweat was glistening on his brow. In the end he gave up, and just replied, “Not been feeling so good this morning!”
Elaen reached a hand out to rest it against his forehead, “You’re on fire. Either you were on one bender last night or you must be coming down with something nasty?”
“Didn’t do anything special last night,” Ravn lied, “not that I remember anyway, bit of a cold or something. I’ve popped some meds., I’ll be fine later!”
Elaen looked doubtful, “Males,” she spat, “either you claim you’re dying at the slightest toothache, or you refuse point blankly that you’re ill when you’re at deaths door!”
“Not ready to shuffle off down the Reapers Passage just yet,” Ravn mumbled, “besides got the best help right here to nurse me through the shift,” he squeezed Elaen’s shoulder.
“You’re going straight to the infirmary to get checked over,” Elaen insisted holding his head between her hands, and looking him dead straight in the bloodshot eyes, “all those refugees, and spacers, anything could be loose on the forge!”
“Don’t like medical types,” Ravn replied pulling back a little, “give me a break - all that poking and prodding - can’t afford the time off either. Besides,” he continued, “it won’t look good on the record if I slump off to my pit a few cycles in from a new start.”
“You don’t look in any state for the deck. You know better, what if I really need you, but you’re all fuzzy headed and dizzy?” Elaen asked.
“Don’t we have some office work to catch up on,” Ravn replied with a groan, “tie me to the desk. If I’m feeling no better by this afternoon…you think you can swing it with Carl?”
At that point the door opened, and a rowdy bunch of late constables filed in, one yelled, “Hey looks like we disturbed some lovers,” there was a general ripple of laughter and a lot of physical horsing about as they bumped rudely past.
“Outside,” said Elaen.
“Oh,” said one of the guys raising an arm, and sniffing loudly, “guess I forgot the deodorant again this morning.”
“Deodorant? That would be a first,” replied another.
“They don’t make smelly stuff strong enough to cover - Tolies - stink,” said a third.
The sharp closing of the interlocking automatic door cut off the rest of the banter.
“So what’s it to be Partner?” emphasised Ravn forcing himself to straighten up even though his stomach clenched with pain.
“Ok, I’ll speak to Carl, go park in a seat before you fall over, and embarrass me!” Elaen said.
The Lieutenant Constable wanting to kick herself. She hated going against standard regulations especially when they were backed up by sound common sense; however, Ravn had employed the magic word Partner. She hoped the big Argon hadn’t taken anything he shouldn’t. It always made Elaen nervous when any of the guys tried hard to avoid a check up at the infirmary!
“Thanks I owe you one!” Ravn said with a grin.
“If you keel or spread some nasty contagion Ravn,” Elaen said quietly, “by the time I’m finished you’ll wish you were back - eating dirt on a rock plate - with the other grunts!”
Slumping on a seat Ravn cursed inwardly. ‘The FAST’ had hit him a lot harder than he remembered. Guess he was getting too old for that one. You can only abuse your body so many times before something gave out, permanently! Luckily that one hit was all he had - so he would be able to avoid future temptation - Ravn would have to find a new edge. He supposed he could have handled the situation in any number of other ways; well it had seemed like a good idea at the time. The Soldier suspected the three lads would have been more than handy given half a chance. Ravn didn’t believe in giving his opponents chances.
X was disappointed - the Corporate Police just didn’t want to let it go - this was more than suspicion this was his cover fully blown. As patient as he was he needed to make a report. X felt like he had become the star of his own PVR show. It was time to depart to live, and learn! With this degree of constant surveillance his only option was to activate one of the oldest standards. Sending a coded one word signal to an off station associate via the Inter Link.
It was a clumsy blatant technological solution unworthy of him, and it would be the end of this operation; bypassing exit immigration, voiding his current on station ID of Hiko Elm. Well Rud could always be picked up by another if he managed to miraculously avoid prosecution. Rud escaping censure by Tribunal now seemed unlikely given how hot X had become. The Clerk however would fare better if Hiko were gone. It was a shame he had been looking forward to examining the next data package. Something outside the norm must be going on here, something beyond very efficient internal security!
Bringing up the map X selected one of the best spots to facilitate the transport. X understood that even with an Active Energy Trace taking a wormhole GTD from inside a station - without an official hook up - into a nearby ship required serious boosts to the basic Goner technology. Such procedures weren’t always guaranteed to succeed. Every time you did this, you gambled with your health, and your life you wouldn‘t want to arrive short by a few spans. It had to be timed to perfection during the shield phase cycle.
Luckily his employers prior to his arrival had delivered this data. As soon as he activated the powered trace, never mind when the distortion field hit of the tiny wormhole the energy spike would set off alarms, even if the CSMS somehow missed Hiko vanishing by lightshow. AFC 4 could only react, and by then he would be jumping out of the system in his associates ship. X often wondered how deviants such as himself would fare without the help of the Goner Priesthood! One day the Argon would realise that every precious vein of silver lining edges a potential storm cloud! X chuckled to himself!
G charged through the shade haunted, moss draped leafy forest relying on his horse’s instincts to avoid headlong collisions. Gripping with his knees he pulled another arrow from the richly decorated quiver at his side, and let lose at one of the hulking hairy beasts (with their flame bright eyes and shaggy midnight fur) racing on all fours trying to flank him. It wasn’t easy with all the bouncing, and careening his shot went high, and wild.
“They have to be fekking kidding,” he complained, “how are you meant to do this!”
Once again the trolls got ahead angled in and took out the horse. He tried a timely leap, but failed miserably. Again he ended up chewing dirt with the horse on top of him. As the world went dark he could hear the screams of the mount and his own cry’s as the trolls ripped in, bit down and chewed. Disgusted Garrin tossed the full helmet headset onto the couch.
“I’m never going to get out of the forest,” Garrin complained to the empty air.
Not on foot, not on the horse either, what other options remained? He knew he should have spent more time exploring in the vast Master’s Tower, but he had grown bored stumbling down dark passages. The Stalking Wraith had started to give him the creeps - all the low moaning - the hiss of un-dead breath the muffled bandaged footfalls! So he had decided to blow the joint, get into the sun, and haul his ass overland to the bright and cheerful village of Elvenholm.
All good, but the Arisen Dark Lords presence had seeped forth and the once jolly and benign forest - that had been full of angel light - and flitting fairies was now of course dark, and dreary, vine, and spider haunted. Worse yet by some evil malignancy the forest was now home to hoards of hairy ground hugging monsters. Heavily armed, and armoured beast men as well. On foot the tactically minded beast men had made short work of the hero. While the horse drew every shambling Troll from their holes from miles around!
Looking at The Dark One Arisen AVR [active virtual reality] chip he decided to take it back before either he got really hooked on this trash, or found himself throwing an embarrassing wobbly of frustration in front of Elaen! Not that he had much chance to throw anything at Elaen. Maybe he should join up? Ravn saw more of Garrin’s partner than he did! Thinking this Garrin felt more than a little irrational anger. He recalled how keen the Grunt had seemed when he first met El. Then again the ex soldier seemed captivated by anything with a compatible orifice. Ripping the chip out of the helmets slot he dumped it in a pocket and stomped out of the suite. Garrin’s haste was such that it was only the absence of any living bodies inside that keyed the expensive Suites auto locking sequence once again.
When Carl saw the replay of Hiko spiriting himself off ArgonForge 4 he was very glad his booth wasn’t covered by surveillance, and was completely soundproof! Even a grunt like Ravn would have been impressed with the deluge of obscenities that issued forth from the Commanders screaming mouth. Vented in an almost unending unbroken stream of steaming filthy invective! Ferg at the desk however was not fooled. Unfortunately the accountant caught sight of the wash of a spray of coffee. The liquid taint spread almost uniformly as it ran down the inside of the currently slightly polarised Plastic-glass door. The recyclable cup simply bounced to the deck! Carl had forgotten it was still half full. Luckily it was cold enough that the spills didn’t even heat his hand.
Watching his boss kicking the offending cup across the cubicle floor only to lash out at it again as it rebounded back but missing, Ferg physically deflated. Setting his mobile computer pad back down on the curved Central Security Desk Ferg decided this was an ill judged time. Ferg would relate the budget deficit being caused by the units ever increasing overtime figures to the Commander later… maybe during his next shift cycle! Perhaps if he just left it casually behind at the end of his shift were it would be noticed? No, too much wishful thinking in that cunning plan; even if the pad had READ ME flashing on the front screen in glowing yellow letters!
In Priests Pity still onboard the Paranid Pirate Station Jorac ran through the down loads from his informants in the field. Beyond a lot of nonsense about Boron sector visitors there was surprisingly little. All the usual smuggling operations the deliveries of Space Fuel, and Weed that passed through Freedom seemed to have stopped. X2 sagt Bussi auf Bauch demand had already shifted to new available sources! He had managed to gather up a few stray associates that were off station during the explosion via third party contacts, but none of these knew anything. Others he had missed had disappeared off the map upon returning to the home base; it was as if the station had become an all consuming monster gobbling up its former inhabitants.
Of course they could be following Jorac’s own policy of lying low. The Argon Fleet was still very much in evidence as was the ‘Lost For Words’ was Faith onboard. In frustration Jorac had dispatched a volunteer Greyl direct to Freedom. The Pirate had been given a direct order to countermand any quarantine. He was to return despite any station lockdown if at all possible - at least - once he knew the situation. Greyl had simply gone MIA like all the rest! Something had to be up. Jorac now - very much - doubted his injury had been caused by a freak accident! It must have been attempted murder. A wider coup had been perpetrated! A person or persons unknown (but surly from among his old crew) had dared steal - his - station that was unacceptable!
The Fallen Angel would have his pound of flesh. If Jorac failed to wrest back his domain - then at least - he would rain down star fires, and utterly eradicate the ill-fated place from existence! This much the Argon Pirate Lord also known as the Devil promised himself!
In Elena’s Fortune onboard AFC 4 Gregor stood in his luxurious Suite and looked out a portal into space across the outer surface of his shiny silver domain. Outside he could see massive Crates running back and forth delivering essential materials along automated access tunnels to the forges ever active machinery.
The sight was better than any drug, even if calming uppers still floated in his veins. All his detractors Gregor told himself - were insignificant - AFC 4 was still his, and even if it lacked the latest Earth or Terran (if you preferred) derived innovations it was still a magnificent operation. Besides Jollo had promised him his exile here would not be forever, and administrating the forge was hardly a hardship; once everything settled: after the furore was over, the refugees gone, little had been lost!
Plus the new systems remained as yet untried - only truly remarkable on flexi-sheet - perhaps they would fail in the real world. Certainly the first prototype like the first AFC might not function as well as later variants. This way was even better - once again - Gregor would take over when the bugs had all been ironed out of the new complexes.
Fate was Gregor’s benefactress she had brought him AFC 4 she would not abandon him now! He had an excellent team and would yet prove himself to the idiot old fossils of the board! Making an example of the traitor spy will be a good start, he decided. Gregor would demonstrate that he was not a manager to be trifled with, that this Administrator still ran a tight ship! He would see the little rat spaced - as a traitor to the Argon cause - turn it into a publicity coup demonstrate what he had learned from his own trials!
Last edited by Paranoid66 on Fri, 18. Apr 08, 21:05, edited 1 time in total.
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Paranoid66
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chapter 22
Reapers Passage
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter22 – Chameleons
Garrin was drinking alone. He had left back the AVR [Active virtual reality] game and ended up in ‘the Junction’. It was a grumbling stomach that had called him into the classy but cheekily decorated restaurant bar, but he had soon found himself throwing back one Tanker after another. Garrin wasn’t really much of a drinker. He was rather surprised he, hadn’t succumbed either to an utterly addled state, or the necessity of some form of anti – intoxicant med shot. Watching couples eye gazing, and or singles getting hooked up made him feel like he had the worst of both worlds, (not being single but still being alone) this didn’t help his demeanour much!
In short Garrin was in a morbid state, reflecting on all the ills of his life, feeling very sorry about his fate! Even the act of drinking reminded him that his father had suffered from a drink, and drugs problem; that chemicals had no doubt helped precipitate his demise.
Shimoo found herself watching the spacer as the evening progressed. He looked like a different guy to the fellow she had met the cycle of her first shift. Then he had been the sort with a ready smile, and an easy laugh. Now he looked like a bulkhead had fallen on him, and he wanted to drown in the Fuel he was clutching. Several cycles ago Shimoo had asked around, and learned Garrin ran a really successful operation. Recently she had discovered he had moved into the High Tower. His credit rating was certainly good so Shimoo was guessing it was female troubles that had him so low a boon for her! That’s what he got for hooking up with a Copper, they were exciting but made poor long term accessories, Shimoo knew this for a fact having dallied there once!
Sidling over with a bottle and a mixer the waitress placed a cool hand on the spacers head, “Hello again,” she simpered smoothly, “looking for a top up?”
“Yeah why not,” replied Garrin, “hey,” he smiled easily, “nice dress!”
“Just another working costume,” Shimoo replied, “pretty dramatic though,” she swivelled her hips running her hands down the sides of her sleek body.
“Certainly is,” noted Garrin, “appreciating the way the woman’s limber form showed through the shimmering material, he imaged Elaen in something similar, unfortunately following that line of fantasy turned his smile into a grimace.
Shimoo skilfully poured making a point of interjecting his name she said, “Well Garrin you seem a bit low today, you need cheering up. I’m all finished now. Mind if I join you?”
Garrin considered the hot young archaeology student realising foggily that she was being more than just casually friendly. He knew he was in danger of crossing a line. However the woman’s attention was flattering and what harm could there be in a little company. Wasn’t it company he was lacking? Shimoo really was pretty special; different to Elaen, less earthily solid, but more refined, statuesque. He considered how they were both beautiful in differing ways.
“Sure,” he said, “after all it would be impolite to rebuff such a friendly gesture in an unfriendly universe.”
Shimoo seemed uncommonly delighted at this permission. She watched him with a fascination that caused parts of Garrin’s anatomy to stir from slumber. It was gratifying to have somebody’s full attention for a change!
Sometime later Elaen finally returned from nursing Ravn through a horrendously long shift. It had taken the whole cycle for her friend to slowly recover some of his former heartiness. Elaen was more than glad her shift was over - straight faced at the memory - she let her self into the suite. Almost immediately Elaen staggered unsteadily. She had put her foot down on a discarded shoe nearby other assorted items lay scattered like an explosion of shrapnel.
Cursing quietly under her breath she looked down at the richly carpeted deck. Among the items glinted in the half light was a sparkling dress. Looking up Elaen saw Garrin was already in bed asleep - as she had expected - but he had not passed out waiting for her! Garrin was not alone two disrobed body’s lay fully exposed upon the bed in a jumble of interlocking limbs! Numb and in shock Elaen just let herself back out, and ghosted towards the lift. Holding back the tears she told herself it was for the best! Garrin in his High Tower was out of her league! It had just been a bit of fun! They were both adults, and knew what they were doing, dung happens! By the time she hit the ground floor the tears were flowing freely anyway!
Several station cycles later…
On ‘Freedom Station’ Ploopy coasted inside his watery apartment. The freedom felt wonderful he felt like a squid-ling spiralling, and jetting chasing tiny live fish he sucked one into his mouth, and gobbled it down greedily. Freedom had finally become a home from home. Jorac wouldn’t recognise the place with its living coral, and new spreading semi organic surfaces. Working had become a joy since the modifications it was so much easier even to operate a computer pad outside of the clumsy encounter suits. Also he had felt like his muscles had been steadily atrophying until now. Pulling his computer pad from a hook on a utility harness Ploopy commenced scanning through the next cycle’s business.
He had an important meeting with Ge Ton to discuss the Jorac situation. It was evident the Pirate Leader was active, and gathering supporters. While they still didn’t know where he was hiding it was only a matter of time. Ploopydroop was glad the Argon Fleet was still in the system even though the Khaak had now according to rumour abandoned Bala Gi’s Joy to wreck their havoc elsewhere. Recently the fleet had been engaging itself in mock battles far off the ecliptic but the main grid was still heavily patrolled. Ploopy was making a steady income from hit and run strikes against Split merchant shipping - always in distant sectors.
It was glorious to profit out of killing the beasts. With the coin garnered from captured freighters, and stolen cargoes the Boron had set up a string of laser towers around the base, and brought in even more workers to facilitate the stations refit! The number of young, and old Boron fighter jocks that continued to turn up at his hatch eager to participate in his campaign had shocked Ploopy. The Floater suspected some of these where agents of the Royal Boron Navy, but he didn’t much care, he had little to hide from his own. They were good fighters, and he only allowed trusted individuals around him or near any sensitive areas. Ploopy had moved on from risking his neck in space happy to becoming a full time Leader, and strategic commander.
Ploopydroop had also virtually stripped the Central Computer System. Jorac wouldn’t recognise the architecture either its software or hardware. Many more efficient Boron units had been integrated. Some functions had been compartmented carefully decentralised. Extra fail-safes had been added. He wasn’t going to let somebody else pull a Ploopy - as it was becoming known - on Plu Dup’s Freedom!
Not everything had gone perfectly some of the engineering areas where still giving serious headaches, and he had even had a few limited power outages. One Boron worker had suffered a fatal accident when he had accidentally electrocuted himself in a newly flooded area! However, incidents, and accidents were become rare as old circuits and power junctions were updated. Nonetheless Ploopy knew it was a mammoth undertaking. It amused the Boron that from the outside the base looked like the wreck of an old Teladi hull while inside it was becoming a wondrous technologically advanced Boron grotto.
Even the often rather dour Ge Ton was coming around, and sometimes seemed as intent on fulfilling Ploopdroop’s desires as the wishes of the Argon Navy. Ploopy believed the spy was slowly going native something the Boron Leader was encouraging with all his wit.
On AFC 4 Ravn shoved Elaen into the cul-de-sac and kissed her firmly on the mouth. Elaen shoved him back hard and gave him a hard glare, “Not on duty you animal,” she admonished moving aside.
“Yes sir,” he replied laughing looking out up, and down the corridor, “you do know nobody is around out there,” he smirked wickedly.
“Put it back in your pants,” retorted Elaen laughing. “If you can’t restrain yourself, I’ll have to request a new partner. Fun is fun, but work is serious!”
“Ok, ok sorry. Sometimes I forget what a tight rear you are about the rules,” said Ravn in jest, he could hardly believe how he felt about Elaen given how short their association had been, not all lust either!
Elaen groaned, “Seriously Ravn, I don’t want either of us to get hurt because we couldn’t resist goofing about. I’ve been doing this job long enough to have seen some of the consequences. Bet you wouldn’t have fooled around with your comrades in the field,” she said.
Ravn sobered considering Elaen’s point, “Sorry,” he replied this time meaning it.
Ravn couldn’t help thinking, that Elaen was right he was losing it a bit, but it had been a long time since he had felt able to let anyone get this close, Garrin was the Universes biggest fool to cast Elaen aside for the superficial if obvious delights of Shimoo!
“Ok,” said Elaen straightening her self up, “let’s be professionals,” wondering what in the world she was doing.
Talk about classic rebound, thought Elaen, It had all come together like fate Garrin’s casual betrayal had come during a period when Ravn, and her had been thrown tightly together. Even the Grunts temporary incapacity had played against her. In a remarkably short time Elaen had shocked herself by enthusiastically doing the dirty with her subordinate.
Oddly it worked quite well. They had the same periods off, the similar incomes enjoyed many simplistic basic things. Yet it didn’t feel like it had with Garrin. Elaen’s new relationship was, she didn’t know, different. Smoother in many ways but somehow it didn’t feel quite - well - real! Maybe she was still in shock from the deadly Shimoo! Nobody likes that kind of competition it made you feel inadequate.
Anna was quite pleased as she gazed at her progress report. Recently she had even made a valuable new, what should have been obvious discovery. The Messenger Drones didn’t have to make physical contact with their brethren at all. Because they also accessed the Core directly the information could simply by passed from the Hive to the Core then from the Core to the Messenger. Because the Core didn’t exist in normal space it was not a broadcast in any normal sense. That was why the team had become blinkered to the possibilities.
The fact that the reprogrammed Messenger Drones had some imperative to bond with the Hive when otherwise unoccupied had been taken as a necessity of transmission. In fact it was more like a social biological function. The scientists - herself included - had been fooled into thinking of the Hive as machines merely aping an organic form. Anna now believed the units were something else, perhaps an almost hybrid technology half machine half alive. What this meant for the future she didn’t know were they messing with an intelligent life form?
From a logistical point of view by creating a caged link unit Anna assumed she could have constant instant access to the ‘Hive access Core’. The difficulty was the Messengers were still psychologically fragile, and might self terminate if they became - unhappy - and they had a seeming compulsion to physically bind with the Hive. Nonetheless, the possibility now existed that if she could hack this compulsion as they had hacked the original basic instruction set? Still the unknown, and unreachable core programming or was it biological imprint might not be malleable to interference. In the end only further research, and time would tell the Hive access Core was still in so many ways an enigma. Given this fact Anna couldn’t help but think that it was far too early to contemplate putting this most alien of systems or life forms to mainstream use, Febr was right about that if nothing else.
There is a golden rule in life that says you always want what you don’t have. There is a striving built into the Argon spirit a restlessness that fights against tranquillity, and contentment. Garrin was coming to understand many old sayings. He sat on the end of the bed rubbing at his stubble. He wondered why despite everything it felt like he had cheated on himself, and not on Elaen even though Shimoo was something else altogether!
Shimoo was a dynamic whirlwind: adventuresome, energetic, athletic, and a contortionist with an insatiable appetite. She said all the right things was attentive, supportive, she even had a sharp, and witty mind under all that easy glamour. But, and it was a big but, his - would be - archaeologist reminded him of the infamous AFC 4 Assassin of Hearts. Shimoo was if anything a little too perfect, too controlled, too self-sustaining!
The only real vice he had found in her - beyond the enjoyable ones - was the fact that Shimoo liked spending his credits more than a little too much! Sometimes Garrin felt he hadn’t discovered the perfect lover he had contracted a modern day concubine! Or was this the same thing? When they were together such misgivings seemed to melt like ice under an afterburners flame but when they were apart the doubts flooded in. Further the Golden One would be returning eventually to Argon Prime to continue her academic studies and Garrin would be once more alone.
Conversely Garrin felt so needy since Elaens departure the odd thing was he didn’t even remembering doing anything that first night, all he could remember was an excess of Fuel and being helped back to the High Tower. Although Shimoo had woke him up from his confusion in a manner he wouldn’t soon forget, and to his later chagrin been unable to bring himself to quit, and that had been that! What had shocked him much later though was the fact that - to his horror he had somehow become almost clingy, as if he couldn‘t take being on his own anymore, maybe because when Shimoo wasn‘t around his thoughts returned very uncomfortably to Elaen, and what he had done, but that was only part of it!
Garrin’s old independence had somehow become eroded the more of Shimoo he got the more he needed, she was like some classic femme fatale Shimoo knew how to pull his strings. The female was like a drug that he just had to have! Garrin couldn’t recall ever feeling this high or low this strong, yet conversely weak. Unfortunately the negatives evaporated whenever Shimoo was around into deep physical fulfilment. Garrin realised he was glad Shimoo was ambitious because at the moment he didn’t feel he had it in himself to walk away. He hadn’t even run a system check on The Reaper in cycles, and his accounts were no longer as healthy as they once had been. If anyone had told him a mere physical relationship could so domineer his mind before this experience Garrin knew he would have laughed, but now the joke was on him! Shimoo was intoxicating, and G feared he had become an addict.
Since courting Shimoo Garrin had found himself entering the echelons of the stations higher society. Shimoo came from a well off Argon Prime family, and had been given letters of introduction to AF staff. Garrin was seen as an up and coming Merchant Trader, and with his new partner - not being a blue-collar worker unlike Elaen - they were in demand. Many saw them as a perfect couple. Shimoo came from old money although she was kept on a tight budget by her family - thus the job - Garrin was the infusion of dynamic new credits, and raw drive. Some of the locals even presumed Garrin would trail in her wake to Argon Prime to officially seal the deal. However, Shimoo, and Garrin had as yet never discussed her scheduled departure. In the early days it had become a taboo subject. It had seemed morbid to dwell on the end at the beginning! Despite his attachment however Garrin just couldn’t see himself returning to an atmospheric existence, it was inconceivable!
Well the Argon Prime summer season was as yet far from over. So Garrin had a bit of time to gather his thoughts, and decide on his future priorities. Everything had changed so quickly! Physical changes Garrin was used to, but these emotional alterations were something new.
Rud sat in the cubicle questioning how it had all gone wrong. How he had ever fooled himself that he could get past the infamous AF internal surveillance? Beyond his initial interview, and confession Security now seemed pretty disinterested in him, at least for the moment. Given the body of captured audiovisual evidence Rud had seen little point in denial. Instead he had decided to throw himself upon ArgonForges mercy, but ArgonForge simply didn’t seem to possess any. Nobody beyond his Tribunal appointed lawyer had come to see him even to ask him why? Maybe they had decided they knew everything they needed! He didn’t even have anything to barter, no names, no conspirators to offer. Rud didn’t even know why his contact had sought the low-grade information. He had assumed a black market smuggling operation - maybe the establishment of an untaxed Space Fuel run - via unofficial channels. Surly nothing vital or strategically important!
As much as Rud had hated his old life he now realised it had been far from the dire existence he had once imagined. Despite a lack of visitors he had still heard some disquieting rumours being circulated among the guards. Rumours that Gregor was pulling strings to have him tried not for Corporate Espionage but as an Argon Traitor sabotaging the war effort. A crime punishable by the gruesome fate of spacing! If he got the chance he would rather kill himself first than be made to eat vacuum, but he doubted he would be given the opportunity.
Suddenly his father chewing down on a tuned up low velocity slug seemed like a good way to go. Gregor was an inhuman fekker to insist on such a cruel death because of what; the dissemination of a few schedules, and route plans? The Administrator would do anything, resort to any heinous action, so long as he got to play god over AFC 4!
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter22 – Chameleons
Garrin was drinking alone. He had left back the AVR [Active virtual reality] game and ended up in ‘the Junction’. It was a grumbling stomach that had called him into the classy but cheekily decorated restaurant bar, but he had soon found himself throwing back one Tanker after another. Garrin wasn’t really much of a drinker. He was rather surprised he, hadn’t succumbed either to an utterly addled state, or the necessity of some form of anti – intoxicant med shot. Watching couples eye gazing, and or singles getting hooked up made him feel like he had the worst of both worlds, (not being single but still being alone) this didn’t help his demeanour much!
In short Garrin was in a morbid state, reflecting on all the ills of his life, feeling very sorry about his fate! Even the act of drinking reminded him that his father had suffered from a drink, and drugs problem; that chemicals had no doubt helped precipitate his demise.
Shimoo found herself watching the spacer as the evening progressed. He looked like a different guy to the fellow she had met the cycle of her first shift. Then he had been the sort with a ready smile, and an easy laugh. Now he looked like a bulkhead had fallen on him, and he wanted to drown in the Fuel he was clutching. Several cycles ago Shimoo had asked around, and learned Garrin ran a really successful operation. Recently she had discovered he had moved into the High Tower. His credit rating was certainly good so Shimoo was guessing it was female troubles that had him so low a boon for her! That’s what he got for hooking up with a Copper, they were exciting but made poor long term accessories, Shimoo knew this for a fact having dallied there once!
Sidling over with a bottle and a mixer the waitress placed a cool hand on the spacers head, “Hello again,” she simpered smoothly, “looking for a top up?”
“Yeah why not,” replied Garrin, “hey,” he smiled easily, “nice dress!”
“Just another working costume,” Shimoo replied, “pretty dramatic though,” she swivelled her hips running her hands down the sides of her sleek body.
“Certainly is,” noted Garrin, “appreciating the way the woman’s limber form showed through the shimmering material, he imaged Elaen in something similar, unfortunately following that line of fantasy turned his smile into a grimace.
Shimoo skilfully poured making a point of interjecting his name she said, “Well Garrin you seem a bit low today, you need cheering up. I’m all finished now. Mind if I join you?”
Garrin considered the hot young archaeology student realising foggily that she was being more than just casually friendly. He knew he was in danger of crossing a line. However the woman’s attention was flattering and what harm could there be in a little company. Wasn’t it company he was lacking? Shimoo really was pretty special; different to Elaen, less earthily solid, but more refined, statuesque. He considered how they were both beautiful in differing ways.
“Sure,” he said, “after all it would be impolite to rebuff such a friendly gesture in an unfriendly universe.”
Shimoo seemed uncommonly delighted at this permission. She watched him with a fascination that caused parts of Garrin’s anatomy to stir from slumber. It was gratifying to have somebody’s full attention for a change!
Sometime later Elaen finally returned from nursing Ravn through a horrendously long shift. It had taken the whole cycle for her friend to slowly recover some of his former heartiness. Elaen was more than glad her shift was over - straight faced at the memory - she let her self into the suite. Almost immediately Elaen staggered unsteadily. She had put her foot down on a discarded shoe nearby other assorted items lay scattered like an explosion of shrapnel.
Cursing quietly under her breath she looked down at the richly carpeted deck. Among the items glinted in the half light was a sparkling dress. Looking up Elaen saw Garrin was already in bed asleep - as she had expected - but he had not passed out waiting for her! Garrin was not alone two disrobed body’s lay fully exposed upon the bed in a jumble of interlocking limbs! Numb and in shock Elaen just let herself back out, and ghosted towards the lift. Holding back the tears she told herself it was for the best! Garrin in his High Tower was out of her league! It had just been a bit of fun! They were both adults, and knew what they were doing, dung happens! By the time she hit the ground floor the tears were flowing freely anyway!
Several station cycles later…
On ‘Freedom Station’ Ploopy coasted inside his watery apartment. The freedom felt wonderful he felt like a squid-ling spiralling, and jetting chasing tiny live fish he sucked one into his mouth, and gobbled it down greedily. Freedom had finally become a home from home. Jorac wouldn’t recognise the place with its living coral, and new spreading semi organic surfaces. Working had become a joy since the modifications it was so much easier even to operate a computer pad outside of the clumsy encounter suits. Also he had felt like his muscles had been steadily atrophying until now. Pulling his computer pad from a hook on a utility harness Ploopy commenced scanning through the next cycle’s business.
He had an important meeting with Ge Ton to discuss the Jorac situation. It was evident the Pirate Leader was active, and gathering supporters. While they still didn’t know where he was hiding it was only a matter of time. Ploopydroop was glad the Argon Fleet was still in the system even though the Khaak had now according to rumour abandoned Bala Gi’s Joy to wreck their havoc elsewhere. Recently the fleet had been engaging itself in mock battles far off the ecliptic but the main grid was still heavily patrolled. Ploopy was making a steady income from hit and run strikes against Split merchant shipping - always in distant sectors.
It was glorious to profit out of killing the beasts. With the coin garnered from captured freighters, and stolen cargoes the Boron had set up a string of laser towers around the base, and brought in even more workers to facilitate the stations refit! The number of young, and old Boron fighter jocks that continued to turn up at his hatch eager to participate in his campaign had shocked Ploopy. The Floater suspected some of these where agents of the Royal Boron Navy, but he didn’t much care, he had little to hide from his own. They were good fighters, and he only allowed trusted individuals around him or near any sensitive areas. Ploopy had moved on from risking his neck in space happy to becoming a full time Leader, and strategic commander.
Ploopydroop had also virtually stripped the Central Computer System. Jorac wouldn’t recognise the architecture either its software or hardware. Many more efficient Boron units had been integrated. Some functions had been compartmented carefully decentralised. Extra fail-safes had been added. He wasn’t going to let somebody else pull a Ploopy - as it was becoming known - on Plu Dup’s Freedom!
Not everything had gone perfectly some of the engineering areas where still giving serious headaches, and he had even had a few limited power outages. One Boron worker had suffered a fatal accident when he had accidentally electrocuted himself in a newly flooded area! However, incidents, and accidents were become rare as old circuits and power junctions were updated. Nonetheless Ploopy knew it was a mammoth undertaking. It amused the Boron that from the outside the base looked like the wreck of an old Teladi hull while inside it was becoming a wondrous technologically advanced Boron grotto.
Even the often rather dour Ge Ton was coming around, and sometimes seemed as intent on fulfilling Ploopdroop’s desires as the wishes of the Argon Navy. Ploopy believed the spy was slowly going native something the Boron Leader was encouraging with all his wit.
On AFC 4 Ravn shoved Elaen into the cul-de-sac and kissed her firmly on the mouth. Elaen shoved him back hard and gave him a hard glare, “Not on duty you animal,” she admonished moving aside.
“Yes sir,” he replied laughing looking out up, and down the corridor, “you do know nobody is around out there,” he smirked wickedly.
“Put it back in your pants,” retorted Elaen laughing. “If you can’t restrain yourself, I’ll have to request a new partner. Fun is fun, but work is serious!”
“Ok, ok sorry. Sometimes I forget what a tight rear you are about the rules,” said Ravn in jest, he could hardly believe how he felt about Elaen given how short their association had been, not all lust either!
Elaen groaned, “Seriously Ravn, I don’t want either of us to get hurt because we couldn’t resist goofing about. I’ve been doing this job long enough to have seen some of the consequences. Bet you wouldn’t have fooled around with your comrades in the field,” she said.
Ravn sobered considering Elaen’s point, “Sorry,” he replied this time meaning it.
Ravn couldn’t help thinking, that Elaen was right he was losing it a bit, but it had been a long time since he had felt able to let anyone get this close, Garrin was the Universes biggest fool to cast Elaen aside for the superficial if obvious delights of Shimoo!
“Ok,” said Elaen straightening her self up, “let’s be professionals,” wondering what in the world she was doing.
Talk about classic rebound, thought Elaen, It had all come together like fate Garrin’s casual betrayal had come during a period when Ravn, and her had been thrown tightly together. Even the Grunts temporary incapacity had played against her. In a remarkably short time Elaen had shocked herself by enthusiastically doing the dirty with her subordinate.
Oddly it worked quite well. They had the same periods off, the similar incomes enjoyed many simplistic basic things. Yet it didn’t feel like it had with Garrin. Elaen’s new relationship was, she didn’t know, different. Smoother in many ways but somehow it didn’t feel quite - well - real! Maybe she was still in shock from the deadly Shimoo! Nobody likes that kind of competition it made you feel inadequate.
Anna was quite pleased as she gazed at her progress report. Recently she had even made a valuable new, what should have been obvious discovery. The Messenger Drones didn’t have to make physical contact with their brethren at all. Because they also accessed the Core directly the information could simply by passed from the Hive to the Core then from the Core to the Messenger. Because the Core didn’t exist in normal space it was not a broadcast in any normal sense. That was why the team had become blinkered to the possibilities.
The fact that the reprogrammed Messenger Drones had some imperative to bond with the Hive when otherwise unoccupied had been taken as a necessity of transmission. In fact it was more like a social biological function. The scientists - herself included - had been fooled into thinking of the Hive as machines merely aping an organic form. Anna now believed the units were something else, perhaps an almost hybrid technology half machine half alive. What this meant for the future she didn’t know were they messing with an intelligent life form?
From a logistical point of view by creating a caged link unit Anna assumed she could have constant instant access to the ‘Hive access Core’. The difficulty was the Messengers were still psychologically fragile, and might self terminate if they became - unhappy - and they had a seeming compulsion to physically bind with the Hive. Nonetheless, the possibility now existed that if she could hack this compulsion as they had hacked the original basic instruction set? Still the unknown, and unreachable core programming or was it biological imprint might not be malleable to interference. In the end only further research, and time would tell the Hive access Core was still in so many ways an enigma. Given this fact Anna couldn’t help but think that it was far too early to contemplate putting this most alien of systems or life forms to mainstream use, Febr was right about that if nothing else.
There is a golden rule in life that says you always want what you don’t have. There is a striving built into the Argon spirit a restlessness that fights against tranquillity, and contentment. Garrin was coming to understand many old sayings. He sat on the end of the bed rubbing at his stubble. He wondered why despite everything it felt like he had cheated on himself, and not on Elaen even though Shimoo was something else altogether!
Shimoo was a dynamic whirlwind: adventuresome, energetic, athletic, and a contortionist with an insatiable appetite. She said all the right things was attentive, supportive, she even had a sharp, and witty mind under all that easy glamour. But, and it was a big but, his - would be - archaeologist reminded him of the infamous AFC 4 Assassin of Hearts. Shimoo was if anything a little too perfect, too controlled, too self-sustaining!
The only real vice he had found in her - beyond the enjoyable ones - was the fact that Shimoo liked spending his credits more than a little too much! Sometimes Garrin felt he hadn’t discovered the perfect lover he had contracted a modern day concubine! Or was this the same thing? When they were together such misgivings seemed to melt like ice under an afterburners flame but when they were apart the doubts flooded in. Further the Golden One would be returning eventually to Argon Prime to continue her academic studies and Garrin would be once more alone.
Conversely Garrin felt so needy since Elaens departure the odd thing was he didn’t even remembering doing anything that first night, all he could remember was an excess of Fuel and being helped back to the High Tower. Although Shimoo had woke him up from his confusion in a manner he wouldn’t soon forget, and to his later chagrin been unable to bring himself to quit, and that had been that! What had shocked him much later though was the fact that - to his horror he had somehow become almost clingy, as if he couldn‘t take being on his own anymore, maybe because when Shimoo wasn‘t around his thoughts returned very uncomfortably to Elaen, and what he had done, but that was only part of it!
Garrin’s old independence had somehow become eroded the more of Shimoo he got the more he needed, she was like some classic femme fatale Shimoo knew how to pull his strings. The female was like a drug that he just had to have! Garrin couldn’t recall ever feeling this high or low this strong, yet conversely weak. Unfortunately the negatives evaporated whenever Shimoo was around into deep physical fulfilment. Garrin realised he was glad Shimoo was ambitious because at the moment he didn’t feel he had it in himself to walk away. He hadn’t even run a system check on The Reaper in cycles, and his accounts were no longer as healthy as they once had been. If anyone had told him a mere physical relationship could so domineer his mind before this experience Garrin knew he would have laughed, but now the joke was on him! Shimoo was intoxicating, and G feared he had become an addict.
Since courting Shimoo Garrin had found himself entering the echelons of the stations higher society. Shimoo came from a well off Argon Prime family, and had been given letters of introduction to AF staff. Garrin was seen as an up and coming Merchant Trader, and with his new partner - not being a blue-collar worker unlike Elaen - they were in demand. Many saw them as a perfect couple. Shimoo came from old money although she was kept on a tight budget by her family - thus the job - Garrin was the infusion of dynamic new credits, and raw drive. Some of the locals even presumed Garrin would trail in her wake to Argon Prime to officially seal the deal. However, Shimoo, and Garrin had as yet never discussed her scheduled departure. In the early days it had become a taboo subject. It had seemed morbid to dwell on the end at the beginning! Despite his attachment however Garrin just couldn’t see himself returning to an atmospheric existence, it was inconceivable!
Well the Argon Prime summer season was as yet far from over. So Garrin had a bit of time to gather his thoughts, and decide on his future priorities. Everything had changed so quickly! Physical changes Garrin was used to, but these emotional alterations were something new.
Rud sat in the cubicle questioning how it had all gone wrong. How he had ever fooled himself that he could get past the infamous AF internal surveillance? Beyond his initial interview, and confession Security now seemed pretty disinterested in him, at least for the moment. Given the body of captured audiovisual evidence Rud had seen little point in denial. Instead he had decided to throw himself upon ArgonForges mercy, but ArgonForge simply didn’t seem to possess any. Nobody beyond his Tribunal appointed lawyer had come to see him even to ask him why? Maybe they had decided they knew everything they needed! He didn’t even have anything to barter, no names, no conspirators to offer. Rud didn’t even know why his contact had sought the low-grade information. He had assumed a black market smuggling operation - maybe the establishment of an untaxed Space Fuel run - via unofficial channels. Surly nothing vital or strategically important!
As much as Rud had hated his old life he now realised it had been far from the dire existence he had once imagined. Despite a lack of visitors he had still heard some disquieting rumours being circulated among the guards. Rumours that Gregor was pulling strings to have him tried not for Corporate Espionage but as an Argon Traitor sabotaging the war effort. A crime punishable by the gruesome fate of spacing! If he got the chance he would rather kill himself first than be made to eat vacuum, but he doubted he would be given the opportunity.
Suddenly his father chewing down on a tuned up low velocity slug seemed like a good way to go. Gregor was an inhuman fekker to insist on such a cruel death because of what; the dissemination of a few schedules, and route plans? The Administrator would do anything, resort to any heinous action, so long as he got to play god over AFC 4!
Last edited by Paranoid66 on Fri, 18. Apr 08, 21:06, edited 1 time in total.
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Paranoid66
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chapter 23
Reapers Passage
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 23 – Dissemination and Revelation
Fay gestured Febr to take a seat and poured the tea, “You’re looking much better,” she said, “It’s good to see you on your feet!”
“It’s good to be seen - on my feet,” Febr retorted with a wink!
Fay shook her head, “One of these days that easy way you have is going to get you into real trouble,” Fay noted wondering if the old goat still had the stamina she remembered.
“One day?” Febr repeated, “so what is the story oh Princess of the poison dagger? Care to enlighten your devoted captive?” Febr asked mockingly.
Fay looked at the white haired xeno-archaeologist, and late great computer wizard, and took a sip of her own black tea, “It is your story that interests me,” she said.
Febr took in the almost cosy surroundings of the ANI [Argon Navy Intelligence] female’s private quarters on board the M1 Colossus Carrier the ‘Lost for Words’ and asked, “Is this an official interview, or just two old friends catching up?”
Fay smiled changing her features entirely so that the warm female hidden beneath the uniform suddenly poked through. It was like a stream of sunlight breaching a grey cloud, “you know better than to ask such a silly question?”
Febr just nodded, Fay was right it was a silly question. Febr doubted Fay had any unofficial conversations, not even when the woman was nibbling on somebody’s ear. Ear nibbling was something Febr also knew she liked to do, it made him sigh!
“So what is all this hysteria really about my old friend?” Fay asked.
“Well at least for once I won’t have to worry about breaching any official secrets,” Febr mumbled, “I take it you already know about the ‘Hive access Core’ how much exactly?”
“I know it is alien technology possibly Elder Science,” Fay explained, “that Professor Febr himself discovered, and pioneered the research on aided by a brilliant young associate named Anna. I know it has intelligence gathering applications, and the potential to revolutionise computer sciences as the Argon know them. I know it scared the esteemed professor enough that he tried to destroy it, and then sought to lobby the Senate. I know it is in the final stages of covert operational testing. What I don’t know is why said professor flipped? What pushed his button, caused him to throw everything away on a heroic campaign of self destruction?”
“I never considered self preservation heroic,” noted Febr, “nor the protection of your life’s work surprising. I have spent my entire career seeking to enlighten my brain, and the wider database of the Argon civilisation. The Core in my opinion places all those achievements in perilous jeopardy!”
“That’s very enigmatic Febr, but a bit lacking in scientific detail. I am surprised at you taking such an - emotive - tack. It seems you have finally found something to believe in other than your dusty facts!” Fay interjected.
Febr considered Fays words and was shocked to realise she was right. He had been preaching making a speech not putting forward a theory - a reasoned logical argument. Had he changed so much? Others had made the same point but only knowing Fay’s objectivity had the stake been driven home to his heart. There was a lengthy silence as the revelation dropped. He reached for his tea his hand shaking slightly!
“Are you alright old Argon?” to Fays eyes Febr suddenly looked unwell.
After taking a sip Febr carefully returned the china to its saucer and said, “Bit of a shock old girl, just realised I’ve become a fanatic, an uncomfortable moment without question!”
“So you have found a faith, it happens to a lot of people out here in the heavens,” Fay said shivering at the inadvertent use of that name!
“Still,” rationalised Febr, “believing in something need not negate the validity of its truth.”
“…but it can obscure the data,” they both said in union.
“You remembered the lecture,” Febr grinned.
“Excellent recall that’s how I ended up in this business,” Fay noted, “so Febr in technical terms what is the problem?”
“Well that’s where it gets really sticky,” Febr noted, “what I have are insights, call them scientific hunches if you like. Many internal workings of the ‘Hive access Core’ defies our current understanding of physics. So the gaps had to be filled in with something else call them surmises, of hypothesis, or judgement calls, or educated guess work! When I made my educated guesses, I decided I didn’t much like what I foresaw.”
“So Old Prophet what exactly did you predict from your lonely mountain?” Fay asked.
“The same thing almost all Prophet ultimately predict - Doom!” Febr replied, “At first all we were interested in was figuring out what the Queen was, and what the Hive did how the technology operated. In all these things we had some little success, but we only really scratched the surface. Later I stopped asking how, and commenced wondering why? Why were the Queens, and her drones so fragile, and prone to self-extermination? What was the purpose of such a bizarre contraption? What was the purpose of such impossible to conceive computing power, and mass storage?”
“So how did you answer yourself?” questioned Fay.
“It is a covert system - designed to be hidden - engineered not to fall into the hands of an enemy. It is a gatherer of intelligence (unfathomable amounts of data) beyond anything any Argon can imagine! We failed to find the limitations of either its storage or speed. Only our own poor interfaces our Argon brains restricted the speed of data flow. Somebody or some thing had striven to virtually catalogue our existence. Now why would an advanced species at this level need to collect, or desire to store so much data?”
“If such a species or entity was this advanced, and came from here it would have had access to this information already,” Febr stated, “No we were dealing with something utterly outside our realms of understanding, something vast, and alien on a scale I dare not even fully contemplate! A god like or infernal protagonist! While what are we doing, we are fiddling with this spy from the unknown. Instead of protecting, securing our universe we had commenced to aid, and abet the very operative in our midst. Why? In our petty arrogance to look over our neighbour’s fence while opening a window on everything we are, and know the rest of our entire universe to outside scrutiny. If that isn‘t insane I don‘t know what is!”
“All those lectures from people like you Fay! All those speeches on security breaches! I had an epiphany, and made four out of two plus two! However, nobody would take me seriously. Vast and alien existences beyond our known universe, piffle, even though the Cores were proof of an outside space. Security breach, what nonsense, on flexi-sheet the ‘Hive access Core’ was the ultimate in secure systems. It had no broadcast function whatsoever, as we know it. In this reality it is a sealed closed unit the ultimate SDS [sealed data store]. Oh the ‘Hive access Core’ was perfect, and never before have we been in such need of good intelligence. The Universe was growing wider, more strange and unfamiliar everyday! We Argons needed all the help we could get just to stay above the tide,” said Febr with a groan.
Fay looked at the Old Man. He certainly had found a religion she wondered if it were one to which Fay would ascribe. The ‘Hive access Core’ was indeed the most exciting technology the Argons had ever in her opinion recovered. Not even the Goners Jump Drive had such massive potential implications for the Universes future. However, if Febr theory was correct it was also the most insidious potential weapon they had ever encountered.
“Febr explain to me about the Core itself what do we actually know about it?” Fay asked.
“Precious little,” he confessed. “It could be a mechanism, an anomaly, even a biological creature or a mixture of one or more! It exists beyond our known space. Somehow the drones can link to it using tiny almost microscopic interfaces we have never been able to replicate independently. Each Queen, and her hive seem to share an individual space an address if you will in the Core think of it as a vast but singular database or memory chip. These are totally inviolate, and separate to each other. They could even be separate – Core - entities or units altogether this remains to be seen. Each individual ‘Hive access Core’ is as I have said unfathomable in size certainly we have tried to fill them to overflowing and failed. What is remarkable is the fact that despite all the data bloats access and processing cataloguing, and retrieval remains impossibly instant - can you imagine that? The Core also gives off some form of energy that appears to power the drones, and the Queen. Oddly the Generator that spins out the Queens requires an external power source. It was hooked up to an alien device at the site sorry, I’m branching from the topic.”
“So there is no obvious sign of a malicious intent from this Core or Cores?” Fay asked.
“Certainly the Hive has never shown any aggression, but dare we risk this? Dare we simply sit back, and give all our secrets away?” Febr asked.
“If these aliens are so advanced couldn’t they just wrest our feeble knowledge from us?” Fay enquired.
“Perhaps but the Cores / these entities come from a place we can’t even begin to imagine, even our best surmises could be wrong. I believe it is unwise to cast yourself into a dark pit with nothing but hope for a soft landing!” Febr confessed.
Fay sighed, how could she make a decision of this magnitude with this many inherent unknowns?
“Well Febr I’ll say one thing for you, you always manage to make this female’s life interesting!”
“I always like to perform to my best,” he replied reaching out boldly for the ANI Officers hand.
On AFC 4 Abel was off duty and slumming down in Port Side. Almost out of credits he needed a - cheap - drink! He had settled on the local brew, it was a bit rough a bit sweet, and a bit syrupy, but it was liquid had a head, and if you drank enough - it still made your universe spin. As far as Abel was concerned that was good enough!
Abel was glad to escape and get out of his stuffy AF uniform. He was minded to let it all go he had a cycle off, and was desirous of a bender! As ever the drinking hovel was crowded but Abel had been lucky enough to appropriate a barstool. Abel was also happy to be off his feet. Why C&C Communications didn’t even have a stool was frankly AF taking advantage of lax space side workers rights. Slouching with his belly hanging out over his trousers Abel brought the beer to his lips, and took a long slow swallow it was nicely chilled at least, something that helped disguise the alcoholic beverages other less wonderful attributes!
Soaking in the noise, and the atmosphere Abel felt a reasonably warm glow of contentment until he overheard one conversation.
“Do you think they will live cast it?” one Argon asked expectantly.
“Sure, no point having an execution if justice isn’t seen to be done,” replied another.
“What we’ll actually get to see the fekker go pop?” questioned a third.
“Well it will hardly be in extreme close up you sick Argon,” replied the second speaker.
“Yeah, guess it will be all formal uniforms sombre music, and a close up of the system cycling with some boring official commentary about: be vigilant, serve the Argon Federation,” noted the first.
“Sonra, I hate that Federal Argnu poop!” stated the third man.
“Me too,” said the first, “that’s why I came out here to work in the Fortune Argon did I ever pick the wrong outfit!”
All three laughed together.
Abel cringed technically young Rud hadn’t even made it near the pre Tribunal hearing yet, never mind the rigors of the full - extra judicial - court Marshal Gregor had planned. Nonetheless, these station rats were fighting over the coverage of his termination. It was almost enough to put him off his beer. Hell the young fool had made a mistake - it could have happened to anyone - and AF were going to hang him out the door till he asphyxiated his internal organs exploded, and his body turned into a frozen corpse!
Such an outcome was a serious downer on anybodies career. Not so long ago Abel could recall sharing a laugh, and a drink with the guy. He was a bit of a loner, a bit tight up and unsociable, but get a few drinks into him and like most Argon he would soon be spinning tales with the best of them. Rud had some good reasons for his troubles too, what had happened to his father was tragic.
Rud had been left here carrying a debt, and forced to work in a job he despised. Of all things he wanted to be a farmer on some backwoods colony. Said he wanted to get back to the green leave all the black behind himself. All the hard surfaces of his life, Abel had understood. If Abel had possessed the spare credits he would have liked to imagine he would have bought the lad a ticket and waved him off! Too few people on AFC 4 still had a dream other than just a desire to finish the next shift, and get out of their faces him self included!
Fekkin Dockworkers how would they like it if AF spaced them for losing a crate, or slouching off for one more unofficial break. He almost felt like smashing his glass into one of those Boron sphincters faces. Instead he just called for another beer, and mumbled insults under his breath. Reeling he decided that after he had slept tonight off he would go see the Clerk; even if the visit was put down as a black mark on his permanent record! ArgonForge didn’t own him body and soul. Too many of young Rud’s peers had just chosen to forget he had ever existed. The young lad despite his errors was an Argon too, and one of their own.
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 23 – Dissemination and Revelation
Fay gestured Febr to take a seat and poured the tea, “You’re looking much better,” she said, “It’s good to see you on your feet!”
“It’s good to be seen - on my feet,” Febr retorted with a wink!
Fay shook her head, “One of these days that easy way you have is going to get you into real trouble,” Fay noted wondering if the old goat still had the stamina she remembered.
“One day?” Febr repeated, “so what is the story oh Princess of the poison dagger? Care to enlighten your devoted captive?” Febr asked mockingly.
Fay looked at the white haired xeno-archaeologist, and late great computer wizard, and took a sip of her own black tea, “It is your story that interests me,” she said.
Febr took in the almost cosy surroundings of the ANI [Argon Navy Intelligence] female’s private quarters on board the M1 Colossus Carrier the ‘Lost for Words’ and asked, “Is this an official interview, or just two old friends catching up?”
Fay smiled changing her features entirely so that the warm female hidden beneath the uniform suddenly poked through. It was like a stream of sunlight breaching a grey cloud, “you know better than to ask such a silly question?”
Febr just nodded, Fay was right it was a silly question. Febr doubted Fay had any unofficial conversations, not even when the woman was nibbling on somebody’s ear. Ear nibbling was something Febr also knew she liked to do, it made him sigh!
“So what is all this hysteria really about my old friend?” Fay asked.
“Well at least for once I won’t have to worry about breaching any official secrets,” Febr mumbled, “I take it you already know about the ‘Hive access Core’ how much exactly?”
“I know it is alien technology possibly Elder Science,” Fay explained, “that Professor Febr himself discovered, and pioneered the research on aided by a brilliant young associate named Anna. I know it has intelligence gathering applications, and the potential to revolutionise computer sciences as the Argon know them. I know it scared the esteemed professor enough that he tried to destroy it, and then sought to lobby the Senate. I know it is in the final stages of covert operational testing. What I don’t know is why said professor flipped? What pushed his button, caused him to throw everything away on a heroic campaign of self destruction?”
“I never considered self preservation heroic,” noted Febr, “nor the protection of your life’s work surprising. I have spent my entire career seeking to enlighten my brain, and the wider database of the Argon civilisation. The Core in my opinion places all those achievements in perilous jeopardy!”
“That’s very enigmatic Febr, but a bit lacking in scientific detail. I am surprised at you taking such an - emotive - tack. It seems you have finally found something to believe in other than your dusty facts!” Fay interjected.
Febr considered Fays words and was shocked to realise she was right. He had been preaching making a speech not putting forward a theory - a reasoned logical argument. Had he changed so much? Others had made the same point but only knowing Fay’s objectivity had the stake been driven home to his heart. There was a lengthy silence as the revelation dropped. He reached for his tea his hand shaking slightly!
“Are you alright old Argon?” to Fays eyes Febr suddenly looked unwell.
After taking a sip Febr carefully returned the china to its saucer and said, “Bit of a shock old girl, just realised I’ve become a fanatic, an uncomfortable moment without question!”
“So you have found a faith, it happens to a lot of people out here in the heavens,” Fay said shivering at the inadvertent use of that name!
“Still,” rationalised Febr, “believing in something need not negate the validity of its truth.”
“…but it can obscure the data,” they both said in union.
“You remembered the lecture,” Febr grinned.
“Excellent recall that’s how I ended up in this business,” Fay noted, “so Febr in technical terms what is the problem?”
“Well that’s where it gets really sticky,” Febr noted, “what I have are insights, call them scientific hunches if you like. Many internal workings of the ‘Hive access Core’ defies our current understanding of physics. So the gaps had to be filled in with something else call them surmises, of hypothesis, or judgement calls, or educated guess work! When I made my educated guesses, I decided I didn’t much like what I foresaw.”
“So Old Prophet what exactly did you predict from your lonely mountain?” Fay asked.
“The same thing almost all Prophet ultimately predict - Doom!” Febr replied, “At first all we were interested in was figuring out what the Queen was, and what the Hive did how the technology operated. In all these things we had some little success, but we only really scratched the surface. Later I stopped asking how, and commenced wondering why? Why were the Queens, and her drones so fragile, and prone to self-extermination? What was the purpose of such a bizarre contraption? What was the purpose of such impossible to conceive computing power, and mass storage?”
“So how did you answer yourself?” questioned Fay.
“It is a covert system - designed to be hidden - engineered not to fall into the hands of an enemy. It is a gatherer of intelligence (unfathomable amounts of data) beyond anything any Argon can imagine! We failed to find the limitations of either its storage or speed. Only our own poor interfaces our Argon brains restricted the speed of data flow. Somebody or some thing had striven to virtually catalogue our existence. Now why would an advanced species at this level need to collect, or desire to store so much data?”
“If such a species or entity was this advanced, and came from here it would have had access to this information already,” Febr stated, “No we were dealing with something utterly outside our realms of understanding, something vast, and alien on a scale I dare not even fully contemplate! A god like or infernal protagonist! While what are we doing, we are fiddling with this spy from the unknown. Instead of protecting, securing our universe we had commenced to aid, and abet the very operative in our midst. Why? In our petty arrogance to look over our neighbour’s fence while opening a window on everything we are, and know the rest of our entire universe to outside scrutiny. If that isn‘t insane I don‘t know what is!”
“All those lectures from people like you Fay! All those speeches on security breaches! I had an epiphany, and made four out of two plus two! However, nobody would take me seriously. Vast and alien existences beyond our known universe, piffle, even though the Cores were proof of an outside space. Security breach, what nonsense, on flexi-sheet the ‘Hive access Core’ was the ultimate in secure systems. It had no broadcast function whatsoever, as we know it. In this reality it is a sealed closed unit the ultimate SDS [sealed data store]. Oh the ‘Hive access Core’ was perfect, and never before have we been in such need of good intelligence. The Universe was growing wider, more strange and unfamiliar everyday! We Argons needed all the help we could get just to stay above the tide,” said Febr with a groan.
Fay looked at the Old Man. He certainly had found a religion she wondered if it were one to which Fay would ascribe. The ‘Hive access Core’ was indeed the most exciting technology the Argons had ever in her opinion recovered. Not even the Goners Jump Drive had such massive potential implications for the Universes future. However, if Febr theory was correct it was also the most insidious potential weapon they had ever encountered.
“Febr explain to me about the Core itself what do we actually know about it?” Fay asked.
“Precious little,” he confessed. “It could be a mechanism, an anomaly, even a biological creature or a mixture of one or more! It exists beyond our known space. Somehow the drones can link to it using tiny almost microscopic interfaces we have never been able to replicate independently. Each Queen, and her hive seem to share an individual space an address if you will in the Core think of it as a vast but singular database or memory chip. These are totally inviolate, and separate to each other. They could even be separate – Core - entities or units altogether this remains to be seen. Each individual ‘Hive access Core’ is as I have said unfathomable in size certainly we have tried to fill them to overflowing and failed. What is remarkable is the fact that despite all the data bloats access and processing cataloguing, and retrieval remains impossibly instant - can you imagine that? The Core also gives off some form of energy that appears to power the drones, and the Queen. Oddly the Generator that spins out the Queens requires an external power source. It was hooked up to an alien device at the site sorry, I’m branching from the topic.”
“So there is no obvious sign of a malicious intent from this Core or Cores?” Fay asked.
“Certainly the Hive has never shown any aggression, but dare we risk this? Dare we simply sit back, and give all our secrets away?” Febr asked.
“If these aliens are so advanced couldn’t they just wrest our feeble knowledge from us?” Fay enquired.
“Perhaps but the Cores / these entities come from a place we can’t even begin to imagine, even our best surmises could be wrong. I believe it is unwise to cast yourself into a dark pit with nothing but hope for a soft landing!” Febr confessed.
Fay sighed, how could she make a decision of this magnitude with this many inherent unknowns?
“Well Febr I’ll say one thing for you, you always manage to make this female’s life interesting!”
“I always like to perform to my best,” he replied reaching out boldly for the ANI Officers hand.
On AFC 4 Abel was off duty and slumming down in Port Side. Almost out of credits he needed a - cheap - drink! He had settled on the local brew, it was a bit rough a bit sweet, and a bit syrupy, but it was liquid had a head, and if you drank enough - it still made your universe spin. As far as Abel was concerned that was good enough!
Abel was glad to escape and get out of his stuffy AF uniform. He was minded to let it all go he had a cycle off, and was desirous of a bender! As ever the drinking hovel was crowded but Abel had been lucky enough to appropriate a barstool. Abel was also happy to be off his feet. Why C&C Communications didn’t even have a stool was frankly AF taking advantage of lax space side workers rights. Slouching with his belly hanging out over his trousers Abel brought the beer to his lips, and took a long slow swallow it was nicely chilled at least, something that helped disguise the alcoholic beverages other less wonderful attributes!
Soaking in the noise, and the atmosphere Abel felt a reasonably warm glow of contentment until he overheard one conversation.
“Do you think they will live cast it?” one Argon asked expectantly.
“Sure, no point having an execution if justice isn’t seen to be done,” replied another.
“What we’ll actually get to see the fekker go pop?” questioned a third.
“Well it will hardly be in extreme close up you sick Argon,” replied the second speaker.
“Yeah, guess it will be all formal uniforms sombre music, and a close up of the system cycling with some boring official commentary about: be vigilant, serve the Argon Federation,” noted the first.
“Sonra, I hate that Federal Argnu poop!” stated the third man.
“Me too,” said the first, “that’s why I came out here to work in the Fortune Argon did I ever pick the wrong outfit!”
All three laughed together.
Abel cringed technically young Rud hadn’t even made it near the pre Tribunal hearing yet, never mind the rigors of the full - extra judicial - court Marshal Gregor had planned. Nonetheless, these station rats were fighting over the coverage of his termination. It was almost enough to put him off his beer. Hell the young fool had made a mistake - it could have happened to anyone - and AF were going to hang him out the door till he asphyxiated his internal organs exploded, and his body turned into a frozen corpse!
Such an outcome was a serious downer on anybodies career. Not so long ago Abel could recall sharing a laugh, and a drink with the guy. He was a bit of a loner, a bit tight up and unsociable, but get a few drinks into him and like most Argon he would soon be spinning tales with the best of them. Rud had some good reasons for his troubles too, what had happened to his father was tragic.
Rud had been left here carrying a debt, and forced to work in a job he despised. Of all things he wanted to be a farmer on some backwoods colony. Said he wanted to get back to the green leave all the black behind himself. All the hard surfaces of his life, Abel had understood. If Abel had possessed the spare credits he would have liked to imagine he would have bought the lad a ticket and waved him off! Too few people on AFC 4 still had a dream other than just a desire to finish the next shift, and get out of their faces him self included!
Fekkin Dockworkers how would they like it if AF spaced them for losing a crate, or slouching off for one more unofficial break. He almost felt like smashing his glass into one of those Boron sphincters faces. Instead he just called for another beer, and mumbled insults under his breath. Reeling he decided that after he had slept tonight off he would go see the Clerk; even if the visit was put down as a black mark on his permanent record! ArgonForge didn’t own him body and soul. Too many of young Rud’s peers had just chosen to forget he had ever existed. The young lad despite his errors was an Argon too, and one of their own.
Last edited by Paranoid66 on Sun, 20. Apr 08, 14:23, edited 1 time in total.
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Paranoid66
- Posts: 4643
- Joined: Tue, 19. Apr 05, 10:59
chapter 24
Reapers Passage
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 24 – Rather Rule in Hell - Fallen Angel
Jorac’s foot raised slightly above the up strafe peddle tensed waiting. He chucked his throttle forward with his left hand to come to a halt used his right hand on the joystick to flip his momentarily fleeing ship as plasma streaked past on all sides a few bolts striking home to impact with a sizzling crackle on his 50mj of shields. Joracs ship juddered slightly but he still felt in full control.
Just before his pursuer crashed into him Jorac kick down hard on the all important peddle the Argon Pirate Nova Raider shot up on the vertical axis, and Jorac dropped the hornet right on the shield weakened Teladi Falcons nose.
“Kiss that you Mercenary Scum,” yelled the Arch Fallen Angel into wide broadcast communications.
The mercenary bounty hunters ship had no opportunity or hope of avoiding the heavy missile. It burst apart with a flare of nuclear light, and an abruptly cut short scream over an open channel.
The Fallen Angel slapped the throttle back and hit his booster shooting forward like a cork from a bottle of sparkling wine.
“Demon, fire a wasp at target one, and target two lock on the sectors North Gate, and initiate jump,” that would keep the distant but closing distraction of the escort Discoverer’s out of his way.
Jorac’s computer replied, “Wasps away, Jump Drives initiated charging: ten percent, twenty percent…”
Jorac transport cycled his shields, and vanished in a splash of radiant light.
“Entering sector… Split Fire,” stated Demon.
“Right you fekker,” Jorac said charging toward the AM3+ Eclipse that had jumped out of the combat a few moments earlier.
“Demon, HP. drones (prime target), relay formation, launch,” ordered Jorac.
“Hardened Passive Drones launched prime target relay,” returned Demon.
The two modified unarmed stubby winged drones shot ahead in an extending line one in front of the other. Jorac hitting full reverse fired his ion disrupters. Twin bolts of white lightning were dragged to the first drone then like magic streaked to the second then cascaded on to hit the AM3+. The gutted and hardened drones took no damage but extended the beams range significantly.
The Eclipses shield was getting raped, and it was only just in range of the farthest drone. Green high-energy plasma pulsed out but the tiny drone easily avoided the bulky shots. Energy streamer’s continued disrupting the Eclipse’s Shield. Jorac noticed an aborted shimmering wave play across the Mercenary ship; desperate the pilot was attempting a shield transport cycle. A bad idea under steady ion fire – a panic response - the Eclipses shield generator frazzled, and winked out altogether.
“Demon initiate fuel injector, and full frontal PAC weapons,” Jorac demanded rushing forward again. Just as he gave this command his cheap disposable forward drone succumbed to fast fire from the eclipses front turret. Obviously feeling vulnerable the shiny grub like AM3+ turned to flee.
Jorac didn’t waste any missiles on it instead he raked away with eight PAC weapons straight into its naked hull. Skimming around Jorac’s ship commenced taking a little return orange red fire from the eclipses rear turret mount. The quick hits coming from an impulse ray emitter. The IRE was rapid enough in its tracking to strike the nova despite its strafing side slide. Confident nonetheless that his shields would hold Jorac ignored this while he sunk in more shots of hi own.
Mentally the Pirate willed the Mercenary to bail. The enemy pilot retaining other priorities clung on stoically taking the damage until he flared and jumped out again! Jorac cursed waiting scanning - ready to dive back into the chase - the grid however remained empty. This time the Argon had jumped completely out of the sector. The Pirate also noticed the Discoverers were gone either destroyed by his swarming missiles while his concentration was elsewhere, or fled out of sensor range.
Checking his depleted energy cell count Jorac decided it was time to flit. Setting a course that avoided the diffuse sectors infamous minefield the Fallen Angel took a bearing for the South Gate. That was two Mercenary attacks in the space of as many days. Somebody must have put a tidy price on my head, he thought. It was time to start travelling with some wingmen, and a wary eye!
The rest of the flight back to Priests Pity was unremarkable. He was tempted by a few fat freighters but decided to leave it for another time. Jorac was eager to scan the latest incoming reports from Elena’s Fortune and its surrounding environs. Especially he was hoping word might have arrived from a new - very expensive - contact he had made with access to the fleet! Hardly command level but still a hopeful resource.
He had to laugh at the OTT taped pirate greeting when he docked. Long ago the various clans had chosen to adopt a mockery of the gestalt level messages used by the races. It was exceptionally overblown all ‘Yaar Matey’ recalling another - mostly imaginary - age set on watery oceans, not the modern day sea of stars, and Jump Gate Grids.
On board the station was uncomfortably warm. The Paranid came from roasting domains. To them this station was if anything a bit too cool, but visitors were forced to sweat or to wear temperature controlling suits, and or headgear. Many humans just wandered about in their vacuum suits which could serve the same purpose. Various portable cooling devices were also common in a wide variety of forms using liquids, and or spinning or oscillating mechanics.
Since Jorac had almost gone native he had a specific pretty skimpy garment - that showed off his muscled physic - with its own whirling built in air, and water conditioners. The costume also employed various brutal looking studs, spikes, chains, and razor sharp spines - mostly - for pure effect, though some also had potential combat uses. Not to mention an outrageous necklace of animal fangs. Well displays of this sort helped smooth the way with the locals. At one point he had even had a few shrunken human heads on a belt, but the smell had eventually convinced him to toss that affectation, even if it had really given him some serious kudos at that time. The Paranid were a strange race Technological - self obsessed - barbarians who were also religious fanatics fixated on the number three.
Paranid knew they were superior the highest form of life in the universe, looking down on anybody who didn’t possess three eyes. In his youth Jorac had once considered a bit of odd fully cosmetic surgery! Paranid were: pompous, arrogant, self obsessed with personal display, and status. Paranid were just extreme in every way possible. They tended to talk down, and abuse everybody deemed beneath them which amounted in their eyes to just about everybody else - with a total lack, or care for politeness! Basically Paranid couldn’t give a Boron’s bubbly fart what any low life non-Paranid scum thought of them! Oddly on a good day Jorac found the: tall, skinny, prodigiously strong, wormy skinned, fishy fang mouthed, triple bone crested monstrosities, refreshingly good company!
He found their abuse amusing, and enjoyed giving back as good as he got. Done properly instead of offending the mighty aliens it amused them in return! Still he was aware they treated him like a mascot or a pet animal that did jolly japes which could sometimes be a little wearying. Luckily he was en-route to speak to a human confederate so had no big need for overblown play acting. Inside the station was lit with a ruddy red light that turned everything into blood - a Pirate Paranid affectation!
Entering The Bone Garden one of the stations many Space Fuel and Weed Dens this one decorated with real, and fake guess… Jorac looked about and spied Kerry. As usual she was studying a computer pad. He would have called over but the young female nearly always had loud music blasting into her ears so he decided to go to the bar first. He ordered two Sky Rockets and sauntered over to the table. After putting the drinks down Jorac unclipping his new exceptionally heavy-duty side arm, and slapped that also on to the table! He then slid in and took his seat.
The anarchy port didn’t restrict personal weapons unlike Jorac had on Freedom they just promised to squeeze the life out of anyone who abused this privilege. Fire fights were rare, but visible weaponry was another matter more symbols of status; this explained Jorac’s current super heavy wide nozzle - long nosed - modified Paranid barking low velocity slug throwing repeater. The weapon also sported a pretty useless given its poor accuracy telescopic sight and under muzzle laser painter. Utterly OTT but it certainly looked really fekking impressive when you pointed it at something!
Knocking the table with the hulking weapon had finally brought Kerry out from her text. Fiddling behind her ear Kerry cut off the constant techno soundtrack to her life.
“Hey guy,” Kerry said, “thanks for the tall one,” indicating the drink with her eyes.
“Least I could do,” replied the Fallen Angel wondering if he had been wise to involve her in this, but he was rather understaffed at the moment, and this information might help to keep her safe, “what have you got for me?”
“More Boron reports, has to be something in this Jorac, there is just too much evidence too much traffic,” Kerry noted.
“Boron?” questioned Jorac, “the only Boron I can think off is that joker that ran with the rats. Ploopydroop something about him never quite smelt right to me, but this?”
“Look at the shipping logs, the area is swarming with Floaters,” noted Kerry, “also our contact claims that ANI have been in some sort of closed negotiations with the fishes.”
“Something else Jorac I started asking around. Nearly all the Boron that where working with others pirate crews we have contact are gone, left or absconded? Absent without leave MIA or simply quit!”
“That’s incredible, I didn’t know they had any separate organisation,” Jorac confessed.
“How many pirates speak any Boron?” asked Kerry.
Jorac considered this Kerry was really growing up, “Maybe a few swear words,” he laughed! “That would be a good few Boron too that’s crazy!”
“Data is data Jorac. I didn’t make any of this stuff up, it is what it is!” Kerry said.
“So is this an open move against us by the Kingdom?” Jorac queried!
“Now you’re asking, no idea! Like I said how many pirates speak Boron?” K repeated.
“Guess they could have got fed up with us preying on their poorly defended freighters,” Jorac considered, “I wonder if Ploopy is an agent, maybe we have a war on our hands, or at least a punitive strike. I’ve been an idiot; I was always reminding myself not to underestimate the Floaters, yet that is just what I have done! I was so busy thinking about Faith, and that fleet.”
“I thought Faith was dead”, replied Kerry how could Jorac have forgot that, “You did take a lot of Dolphin’s up in Farnham’s Legend. Got to be something to think about Jorac,” Kerry noted giving her brother a concerned look, maybe his injuries had worse than he let on.
“Boron? If the Kingdom is behind this, I’m not ready! Even if it’s a bunch of Boron renegades or some kind of temporary Boron alliance… pretty difficult one to crack. Can’t sneak our lads in dressed in rubber fish suits,” Jorac spluttered with laughter, “all the Boron’s in all the groups we deal with? Paranidia, even given the fact that Boron are not as heavily represented - as some races - that still amounts to a fekking Navy on its own!”
“We’ve never had a full blown Inter Pirate Race War,” noted Kerry, “who would have imagined the Floaters might start one if that is what is going on?”
Jorac considered the possibilities, and potential reasons. He understood the Boron often got a raw deal in the Clans. They were considered weak, and wimpy even unintelligent. Maybe one of the fishes had decided they had suffered enough scorn! Old Ploopydroop was a prime example I mean ‘Ploopydroop’ how insulting could Bale be to his colleagues face!
Jorac whispered, “The suspicion of a Race War - could work in our favour - even if it’s not true. Few in the Clans would be happy to see our happy band of brothers - fractured by species - it would totally disrupt the current set up! It could lead to a five way civil war for dominance.”
Kerry suddenly looked alarmed, “Spreading rumours of that idea could instigate just such a rabid dissolution of our order too!” she warned.
“You’re right I need to carefully think about this one,” Jorac exclaimed once more impressed with Kerry’s reasoning although he didn‘t want her involved in the Pirate stuff it was good his ward was using her brain for more than cataloguing her music, playing games, and gossiping with her few friends, “do more research, and carefully feel out attitudes, and potential consequences. As angry as I am, this is no time for precipitous ruinous action! Also some part of this puzzle is missing. I’ve been taking it too personal this is looking bigger than ‘Freedom Station’,”
Jorac didn’t care less about wider politics except when it threatened his own selfish plans, and well-being. If the Pirates really fractured Jorac’s livelihood his whole way of life could be at an end.
If the Clans started infighting what would prevent the authorities from swooping in and cleaning their houses out altogether! Something was nagging at the back of his head, something obvious that he was missing. Ignoring his drink the Fallen Angel turned to Kerry.
“Good work Sis., I’ll see to it that you get a big fat bonus. Right now I need to stretch my legs going to take a walk round the station. See you later.”
He was getting up when the explosive round blew his head apart. The Fallen Angel didn’t even see it coming!’
Kerry was nodding in pleasure when her brother’s head exploded showering her with fragments of blood bone and brain tissue. Pain stabbed from her left eye automatically Kerry cupped this with a protective hand, “wha…” she stumbled.
The headless corpse that was Kerry’s only surviving kinsman spurted a fountain of blood into the air as it slumped back down into its seat beside her. Kerry: the drinks, the gun, and the table were washed in a gently falling rain of warm red liquid.
By the time Kerry's shock had cleared, and she thought of reaching for the gun there was shouts, and movement all over the Den. Patron's dived for cover, and pulled weapons. Struggling with the overly bulky gun Kerry stared frantically past the pain using her good eye but failed to discern any sure target.
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 24 – Rather Rule in Hell - Fallen Angel
Jorac’s foot raised slightly above the up strafe peddle tensed waiting. He chucked his throttle forward with his left hand to come to a halt used his right hand on the joystick to flip his momentarily fleeing ship as plasma streaked past on all sides a few bolts striking home to impact with a sizzling crackle on his 50mj of shields. Joracs ship juddered slightly but he still felt in full control.
Just before his pursuer crashed into him Jorac kick down hard on the all important peddle the Argon Pirate Nova Raider shot up on the vertical axis, and Jorac dropped the hornet right on the shield weakened Teladi Falcons nose.
“Kiss that you Mercenary Scum,” yelled the Arch Fallen Angel into wide broadcast communications.
The mercenary bounty hunters ship had no opportunity or hope of avoiding the heavy missile. It burst apart with a flare of nuclear light, and an abruptly cut short scream over an open channel.
The Fallen Angel slapped the throttle back and hit his booster shooting forward like a cork from a bottle of sparkling wine.
“Demon, fire a wasp at target one, and target two lock on the sectors North Gate, and initiate jump,” that would keep the distant but closing distraction of the escort Discoverer’s out of his way.
Jorac’s computer replied, “Wasps away, Jump Drives initiated charging: ten percent, twenty percent…”
Jorac transport cycled his shields, and vanished in a splash of radiant light.
“Entering sector… Split Fire,” stated Demon.
“Right you fekker,” Jorac said charging toward the AM3+ Eclipse that had jumped out of the combat a few moments earlier.
“Demon, HP. drones (prime target), relay formation, launch,” ordered Jorac.
“Hardened Passive Drones launched prime target relay,” returned Demon.
The two modified unarmed stubby winged drones shot ahead in an extending line one in front of the other. Jorac hitting full reverse fired his ion disrupters. Twin bolts of white lightning were dragged to the first drone then like magic streaked to the second then cascaded on to hit the AM3+. The gutted and hardened drones took no damage but extended the beams range significantly.
The Eclipses shield was getting raped, and it was only just in range of the farthest drone. Green high-energy plasma pulsed out but the tiny drone easily avoided the bulky shots. Energy streamer’s continued disrupting the Eclipse’s Shield. Jorac noticed an aborted shimmering wave play across the Mercenary ship; desperate the pilot was attempting a shield transport cycle. A bad idea under steady ion fire – a panic response - the Eclipses shield generator frazzled, and winked out altogether.
“Demon initiate fuel injector, and full frontal PAC weapons,” Jorac demanded rushing forward again. Just as he gave this command his cheap disposable forward drone succumbed to fast fire from the eclipses front turret. Obviously feeling vulnerable the shiny grub like AM3+ turned to flee.
Jorac didn’t waste any missiles on it instead he raked away with eight PAC weapons straight into its naked hull. Skimming around Jorac’s ship commenced taking a little return orange red fire from the eclipses rear turret mount. The quick hits coming from an impulse ray emitter. The IRE was rapid enough in its tracking to strike the nova despite its strafing side slide. Confident nonetheless that his shields would hold Jorac ignored this while he sunk in more shots of hi own.
Mentally the Pirate willed the Mercenary to bail. The enemy pilot retaining other priorities clung on stoically taking the damage until he flared and jumped out again! Jorac cursed waiting scanning - ready to dive back into the chase - the grid however remained empty. This time the Argon had jumped completely out of the sector. The Pirate also noticed the Discoverers were gone either destroyed by his swarming missiles while his concentration was elsewhere, or fled out of sensor range.
Checking his depleted energy cell count Jorac decided it was time to flit. Setting a course that avoided the diffuse sectors infamous minefield the Fallen Angel took a bearing for the South Gate. That was two Mercenary attacks in the space of as many days. Somebody must have put a tidy price on my head, he thought. It was time to start travelling with some wingmen, and a wary eye!
The rest of the flight back to Priests Pity was unremarkable. He was tempted by a few fat freighters but decided to leave it for another time. Jorac was eager to scan the latest incoming reports from Elena’s Fortune and its surrounding environs. Especially he was hoping word might have arrived from a new - very expensive - contact he had made with access to the fleet! Hardly command level but still a hopeful resource.
He had to laugh at the OTT taped pirate greeting when he docked. Long ago the various clans had chosen to adopt a mockery of the gestalt level messages used by the races. It was exceptionally overblown all ‘Yaar Matey’ recalling another - mostly imaginary - age set on watery oceans, not the modern day sea of stars, and Jump Gate Grids.
On board the station was uncomfortably warm. The Paranid came from roasting domains. To them this station was if anything a bit too cool, but visitors were forced to sweat or to wear temperature controlling suits, and or headgear. Many humans just wandered about in their vacuum suits which could serve the same purpose. Various portable cooling devices were also common in a wide variety of forms using liquids, and or spinning or oscillating mechanics.
Since Jorac had almost gone native he had a specific pretty skimpy garment - that showed off his muscled physic - with its own whirling built in air, and water conditioners. The costume also employed various brutal looking studs, spikes, chains, and razor sharp spines - mostly - for pure effect, though some also had potential combat uses. Not to mention an outrageous necklace of animal fangs. Well displays of this sort helped smooth the way with the locals. At one point he had even had a few shrunken human heads on a belt, but the smell had eventually convinced him to toss that affectation, even if it had really given him some serious kudos at that time. The Paranid were a strange race Technological - self obsessed - barbarians who were also religious fanatics fixated on the number three.
Paranid knew they were superior the highest form of life in the universe, looking down on anybody who didn’t possess three eyes. In his youth Jorac had once considered a bit of odd fully cosmetic surgery! Paranid were: pompous, arrogant, self obsessed with personal display, and status. Paranid were just extreme in every way possible. They tended to talk down, and abuse everybody deemed beneath them which amounted in their eyes to just about everybody else - with a total lack, or care for politeness! Basically Paranid couldn’t give a Boron’s bubbly fart what any low life non-Paranid scum thought of them! Oddly on a good day Jorac found the: tall, skinny, prodigiously strong, wormy skinned, fishy fang mouthed, triple bone crested monstrosities, refreshingly good company!
He found their abuse amusing, and enjoyed giving back as good as he got. Done properly instead of offending the mighty aliens it amused them in return! Still he was aware they treated him like a mascot or a pet animal that did jolly japes which could sometimes be a little wearying. Luckily he was en-route to speak to a human confederate so had no big need for overblown play acting. Inside the station was lit with a ruddy red light that turned everything into blood - a Pirate Paranid affectation!
Entering The Bone Garden one of the stations many Space Fuel and Weed Dens this one decorated with real, and fake guess… Jorac looked about and spied Kerry. As usual she was studying a computer pad. He would have called over but the young female nearly always had loud music blasting into her ears so he decided to go to the bar first. He ordered two Sky Rockets and sauntered over to the table. After putting the drinks down Jorac unclipping his new exceptionally heavy-duty side arm, and slapped that also on to the table! He then slid in and took his seat.
The anarchy port didn’t restrict personal weapons unlike Jorac had on Freedom they just promised to squeeze the life out of anyone who abused this privilege. Fire fights were rare, but visible weaponry was another matter more symbols of status; this explained Jorac’s current super heavy wide nozzle - long nosed - modified Paranid barking low velocity slug throwing repeater. The weapon also sported a pretty useless given its poor accuracy telescopic sight and under muzzle laser painter. Utterly OTT but it certainly looked really fekking impressive when you pointed it at something!
Knocking the table with the hulking weapon had finally brought Kerry out from her text. Fiddling behind her ear Kerry cut off the constant techno soundtrack to her life.
“Hey guy,” Kerry said, “thanks for the tall one,” indicating the drink with her eyes.
“Least I could do,” replied the Fallen Angel wondering if he had been wise to involve her in this, but he was rather understaffed at the moment, and this information might help to keep her safe, “what have you got for me?”
“More Boron reports, has to be something in this Jorac, there is just too much evidence too much traffic,” Kerry noted.
“Boron?” questioned Jorac, “the only Boron I can think off is that joker that ran with the rats. Ploopydroop something about him never quite smelt right to me, but this?”
“Look at the shipping logs, the area is swarming with Floaters,” noted Kerry, “also our contact claims that ANI have been in some sort of closed negotiations with the fishes.”
“Something else Jorac I started asking around. Nearly all the Boron that where working with others pirate crews we have contact are gone, left or absconded? Absent without leave MIA or simply quit!”
“That’s incredible, I didn’t know they had any separate organisation,” Jorac confessed.
“How many pirates speak any Boron?” asked Kerry.
Jorac considered this Kerry was really growing up, “Maybe a few swear words,” he laughed! “That would be a good few Boron too that’s crazy!”
“Data is data Jorac. I didn’t make any of this stuff up, it is what it is!” Kerry said.
“So is this an open move against us by the Kingdom?” Jorac queried!
“Now you’re asking, no idea! Like I said how many pirates speak Boron?” K repeated.
“Guess they could have got fed up with us preying on their poorly defended freighters,” Jorac considered, “I wonder if Ploopy is an agent, maybe we have a war on our hands, or at least a punitive strike. I’ve been an idiot; I was always reminding myself not to underestimate the Floaters, yet that is just what I have done! I was so busy thinking about Faith, and that fleet.”
“I thought Faith was dead”, replied Kerry how could Jorac have forgot that, “You did take a lot of Dolphin’s up in Farnham’s Legend. Got to be something to think about Jorac,” Kerry noted giving her brother a concerned look, maybe his injuries had worse than he let on.
“Boron? If the Kingdom is behind this, I’m not ready! Even if it’s a bunch of Boron renegades or some kind of temporary Boron alliance… pretty difficult one to crack. Can’t sneak our lads in dressed in rubber fish suits,” Jorac spluttered with laughter, “all the Boron’s in all the groups we deal with? Paranidia, even given the fact that Boron are not as heavily represented - as some races - that still amounts to a fekking Navy on its own!”
“We’ve never had a full blown Inter Pirate Race War,” noted Kerry, “who would have imagined the Floaters might start one if that is what is going on?”
Jorac considered the possibilities, and potential reasons. He understood the Boron often got a raw deal in the Clans. They were considered weak, and wimpy even unintelligent. Maybe one of the fishes had decided they had suffered enough scorn! Old Ploopydroop was a prime example I mean ‘Ploopydroop’ how insulting could Bale be to his colleagues face!
Jorac whispered, “The suspicion of a Race War - could work in our favour - even if it’s not true. Few in the Clans would be happy to see our happy band of brothers - fractured by species - it would totally disrupt the current set up! It could lead to a five way civil war for dominance.”
Kerry suddenly looked alarmed, “Spreading rumours of that idea could instigate just such a rabid dissolution of our order too!” she warned.
“You’re right I need to carefully think about this one,” Jorac exclaimed once more impressed with Kerry’s reasoning although he didn‘t want her involved in the Pirate stuff it was good his ward was using her brain for more than cataloguing her music, playing games, and gossiping with her few friends, “do more research, and carefully feel out attitudes, and potential consequences. As angry as I am, this is no time for precipitous ruinous action! Also some part of this puzzle is missing. I’ve been taking it too personal this is looking bigger than ‘Freedom Station’,”
Jorac didn’t care less about wider politics except when it threatened his own selfish plans, and well-being. If the Pirates really fractured Jorac’s livelihood his whole way of life could be at an end.
If the Clans started infighting what would prevent the authorities from swooping in and cleaning their houses out altogether! Something was nagging at the back of his head, something obvious that he was missing. Ignoring his drink the Fallen Angel turned to Kerry.
“Good work Sis., I’ll see to it that you get a big fat bonus. Right now I need to stretch my legs going to take a walk round the station. See you later.”
He was getting up when the explosive round blew his head apart. The Fallen Angel didn’t even see it coming!’
Kerry was nodding in pleasure when her brother’s head exploded showering her with fragments of blood bone and brain tissue. Pain stabbed from her left eye automatically Kerry cupped this with a protective hand, “wha…” she stumbled.
The headless corpse that was Kerry’s only surviving kinsman spurted a fountain of blood into the air as it slumped back down into its seat beside her. Kerry: the drinks, the gun, and the table were washed in a gently falling rain of warm red liquid.
By the time Kerry's shock had cleared, and she thought of reaching for the gun there was shouts, and movement all over the Den. Patron's dived for cover, and pulled weapons. Struggling with the overly bulky gun Kerry stared frantically past the pain using her good eye but failed to discern any sure target.
Last edited by Paranoid66 on Sun, 20. Apr 08, 14:25, edited 2 times in total.
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jackhanna88
- Posts: 616
- Joined: Tue, 1. Aug 06, 17:06
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Paranoid66
- Posts: 4643
- Joined: Tue, 19. Apr 05, 10:59
chapter 25
Reapers Passage
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 25 – Station Running
Back on AFC 4 Carl opened the door to the private sanctum of his security booth, and gestured for Abel to go ahead! Abel - looking like a puppy that had been caught piddling on a rug - shuffled in with his head down. The rumpled, pathetic, forty year old communications expert made a sorry rebel! Carl followed scowling. The soundproof door shot closed. The plastic-glass darkening into a rare state of fully opaque black!
Ferg shrugged, and looked away. At this rate he was never going to get around to giving the Commander those unhappy overtime figures. When Carl remembered to engage full privacy it meant he was not only angry, but feeling cold and calculating with it - a very bad omen for old Abel!
No need to guess what it was about. Abel had been doing the rounds; trying to drum up ground level support, against Gregor’s plan to court marshal the traitor Rud. Although Abel’s impassioned rants had caused a few to reconsider the full vitriol of their newfound hostility (even won over a few full converts), others had taken extreme exception to Abel’s defence of the AFC 4 security leak.
Over a few shifts positions had hardened. Eventually tensions over spilled in the CAO’s tiny duty canteen. A casual hasty debate over dog-eared sandwiches had turned into an angry row then a scuffle. Nothing serious mostly: shouting, shoving, and posturing with a few half-hearted body blows. Security certainly weren’t involved - at least not in an official capacity - but word got out. Well nothing is secret on AFC 4.
The other participants had already visited the Commanders office arriving subdued like children dragged before the principle. Abel’s session was left to last without doubt a deliberately cruel policy. Abel was given plenty of time to consider the full weight of his folly, and any potential punishment! Carl could be a real bear when he was in full bristle so even a scolding was dreaded. Ferg wondered if Gregor knew about the little fracas. Recently the Administrator seemed to be doing the bulk of his business from the distant comfort of his own (private office) apartment in the High Tower.
The Administrators presence was fast becoming a virtual one. Downloaded instructions forwarded via text, comm and visual Inter Link, and through his now harried PA Anna. Anna Dei the fabled Assassin of Hearts was doing a whole new kind of Station Running these cycles back, and forth between Gregor, and the CAO [Central Administration Office]. This treatment was making even the super chilled PA a bit steamed. Ferg had noticed that around Gregor Anna always put on a brave face, but when her boss was elsewhere the once perfect mask now occasionally slipped off!
All in all the office felt tight like an overstretched Split war drum skin, everybody was on edge: a bit grouchy, even downright suspicious! Accusations had been cast about espionage accomplices on one side, corporate stooge on the other. Ferg, and a few others who refused to commit were lectured and abused by both camps. Ferg had been branded: apathetic, uncaring, and a coward. All Ferg wanted was to get on with his insular duties, collect his wages, and get a bit of recognition maybe even a promotion. Ferg believed he worked fekking hard enough to deserve one, and put up with a crate of poop besides!
Morale was plummeting like a stricken spacecraft; a powerless vehicle caught in the pull of an especially dense planet’s gravity well! It was the horror of a perfectly formulaic decline towards inevitable fiery destruction. Carl’s intervention had only internalised the feud into a new stage. The conflict had simply gone underground instead of words - silence, instead of aggressive gestures (pointing fingers) - dark and sullen looks, instead of teamwork - avoidance, and a lack of cooperation!
Ferg was very happy his current shift was almost over. Nonetheless, he could swear some saboteur had been busy putting the clock back every time he looked away. Dragging his eyes off the offending timepiece Ferg instinctively yawned, almost overwhelmed by a wave of tiredness. Refusing to give in he rubbed his neck, shook his head, and returned to juggling the ill fitting budget to wage figures.
Anna whisked along in a four-seat executive station transit module. Fast and efficient the computer controlled floating rail system complemented the forges lifts in providing ultra fast passage from point to point. The only quicker way was internal Goner Transport Device but Anna didn’t have access to that - spin off Goner Jump Drive - technology. AF kept internal Transporters locked down beyond emergency applications. Internal Transport’s were rightly deemed too much of a potential security hazard!
Mulling over the current situation report Anna had a lot on her mind. The PA half wished Gregor was not one of her key test subjects. The idea being that if the ‘Hive access Core’ system could operate covertly under even the nose of the head of the Forge it truly was covertly successful. Anna would have been delighted if her boss had a happy, non-fatal, accident that would get him out of her hair! However if she acted it would void the validity of the program, and she was so close to the pre arranged test periods conclusion.
Nonetheless doing her real work was getting close to impossible now that Gregor was being such an Argnu’s rectum! In fact Anna imagined she would be forced to extend the schedule much to her dismay. The PA dreamed about setting Ravn on the Administrator then blanched. The military operative’s fairly detailed after action report had shocked her to the core - no pun intended! His murderous casual efficiency, Ravn had diced three Argon individuals (possibly with connections to another ANI faction) without even batting an eyelid. Maybe the fact that they might be Navy made it easier for the ex soldier!
Nor had he told her everything; how had he managed to get a jump on three armed men, even aided with a covert Laser Line that was a serious achievement. Anna Dei wasn’t happy to hear that Febr had been injured either. Whatever stunt Ravn had pulled it had taken a chunk out of him for a few cycles as her surveillance had witnessed. Anna suspected some kind of internal boost perhaps state of the art - bio - or cybernetic implants? The skilled role-playing supposed simple grunt security guard agent that she had been assigned - had proved himself an Assassin - something else for her to worry about.
Another concern was the fact that Anna had failed in all attempts so far to cage any Messenger Drones. Every active one she had kept back from downtime Hive integration had committed suicide and turning into less than dust. Luckily the Queen could easily squirt out more drones that Anna could subvert using her hack imprinter. Still it was lab research - not a field job - Anna lacked both the time, and resources required so her failures came as no surprise it was poor methodology! The ultimate consequence was that Anna could only plug in when squirreled away in her cubicle, and had to keep relying on the hives surveillance responding to her deployment of the lure. Being monitored by her own covert surveillance system sometimes made Anna a bit itchy!
Lastly the whole Rud fiasco might be a jolly for Gregor, and indeed give him extra corporate notoriety plus external media spin - to fight his poor image on Prime, but it was killing on board AFC 4 morale! It was a child’s Seesaw what Gregor got on one side he was losing on the other. Anna felt like she was trying to balance in the middle of the oscillating lever while two parties jounced up, and down laughing. It was all playground stuff!
Anna was also now aware that Gregor was deliberately punishing his PA because of his own current feelings of insecurity. The hive had flagged up a conversation in which Anna’s employer was badmouthing his assistant to the ArgonForge Vice President Jollo, (a supposedly sealed communication relay); the deluded Gregor had decided Anna wanted his position. Gregor even hinted Anna was behind his refugee blunder! The accusation was a bit too close to the truth even though Anna’s motivation had been the opposite of his paranoiac take over surmise. Essentially Gregor’s PA had been forced to work her rear off keeping her test subject on AFC 4. If Gregor had rocketed off to some new complex all bets would have been off.
Of course it had been an opportunist move Anna had no control over the Khaak, or the Navy’s initial decision. Anna had simply manipulated Gregor into resisting, and then had a friendly with ANI to get them to turn the necessary screws. However although it kept Gregor on site it had rather backfired in other regards.
At the so-called dungeon on AFC 4 a suspected Pirate was taken by surprise by an unexpected visitation.
“Ok you’re free to go. Try to keep out of trouble until your hearing!” said the guard.
“Pardon,” said Bedon being unusually polite, not getting the drift.
“You’re free to go. It’s your lucky day. Your friends posted your bail,” explained the guard.
“Paranidia,” cursed Bedon his eyes filled with alarm he sat back down on the bunk.
“Now what?” asked the guard, “no way you’re going to convince me the food here is that good!” he chortled at the felons odd behaviour.
“I’m not going anywhere. You can’t just kick me out. I want to see my lawyer!” yelled Bedon.
“Look we don’t need a fuss! We need the cubicle space. You’re all free, and bonded to go,” said the policeman thinking things just get weirder and weirder around here.
“Fekking, fek that,” roared Bedon jumping up he punched the copper full in the face flattening his nose, then kneed him with all the force he could muster in the groin.
The guard screaming keeled over, and commenced rolling about clutching himself in agony at both inflicted injury points. Well he should have been wearing his protection.
Bedon sat back down waiting to take his beating, and be charged. Then decided to up the anti by screaming repeatedly over the coppers moans, “I want my lawyer…”
Bedon knew that was it he had played his last card. He would now have to make his deal with the devil; pray he retained enough Pirate secrets to keep himself alive!
Ravn wasn’t best pleased when he received a new tooth by dispatch. The Fekking ANI didn’t care what he went through as long as he stayed at maximum efficiency. Nor did he dare not install the fekking thing just in case. Maybe next time, or the time after that his heart would give out for good. Some occupation he was in. Still it was up to him. Maybe the Ravn started being a bit subtler, he mused.
Setting up the shipped in training post he commenced a series of tight in martial arts strikes against the wooden pegs, then bounced back on the balls of his feet to strike from further out with his feet, and knees then danced in again. A wonderfully rhythmic clacking accompanied his training session as the apparatus wobbled. At last Ravn realised he felt more or less fully recovered.
Ravn had been keeping fit in other ways recently too, but tonight he had begged off; letting a little grunt coldness slip to the fore, it was always there behind his eyes waiting! Elaen was great when she saw him go remote - she let him be - assuming that he had personal stuff to work through. He wondered if dating the Copper was a smart move. She was a good woman, maybe too good, Elaen deserved better than his lies, and deceits. He wasn’t the Argon she thought he was. The Ravn was only a part of him and a small part at that!
Sometimes looking at her he felt like a platinum plated fekker. However, how could he resist? Elaen had been needy, and come on to him! Hell he had been needy too, and was tired of impersonal paid recreations, and one night stands even if they were safer. Not for the first time Ravn wondered what had possessed Garrin? Then he remembered Shimoo, and realised it was pretty obvious!
Shimoo was annoyed - frustrated - she had been desperately trying to corner Anna Dei ever since she moved into G’s convenient High Tower apartment. Unfortunately the AF PA was so busy Shimoo hadn’t had an opportunity to see her alone. Sure they had been in the same room - on more than one occasion - at one function or another sponsored by the ever-ambitious Gregor, but never alone! It was a rumour of Anna’s presence on AFC 4 that had convinced Shimoo to take the Argon Prime summer season work here in the first place! That woman had contacts in all the right circles - Anna Dei had even worked with the godlike Febr - not that this was widely known, but Shimoo’s family had connections too.
Shimoo had long modelled herself on the Station Running Research, and Development scientist, and sometime gifted xeno-archaeologist. Shimoo was Anna’s biggest fan! Something interesting had to be going on here or Anna was bucking for some new research contract via back channels. Shimoo suspected a Terran link given rumours about new updated ArgonForge forge components. Still it was a trifle odd and unexpected how long Anna had recently been quietly working AF Administration. Shimoo was desperate to be in the loop, and know why?
Leaving an exhausted G on the bed Shimoo wandered naked over to the shower cubicle. The water was glorious; G was a real find both worldly, and yet so innocent in his enthusiasms. It had been so easy to squeeze herself between the spacer, and his brutal unsophisticated Police partner. Her only fear had been that the female might have gone physical on her hide, but it had been a risk worth taking. In the end Elaen had shocked Shimoo by being utterly composed, and civilised. The Lt. Constable even managing to politely - if not surprisingly a bit distantly - greet G, and herself when they accidentally bumped shoulders.
Shimoo suspected Elaen and G even still had the occasional private - meaningful - conversation about life the universe, and AFC 4. Shimoo didn’t mind she knew she had shackles on G’s body, if his soul wandered a bit she could live with it! Ravn was another matter. The big stupid grunt had gone from being an open admirer to giving her cold hard stares. Typical male thinking with his gonads; Ravn was all over protective of his new partner’s feelings, and obviously saw Shimoo as somebody that had casually hurt her!
Still Shimoo couldn’t care less what the big ape thought about her. It wasn’t as if he had enough brain cells - to be in any way dangerous, or a serious annoyance. Drying off in a hot air stream she wondered what her best move would be. It wouldn’t impress her idol if she came across as an over enthusiastic academic groupie.
Garrin stirred from slumber, and stretched out an arm across his real silk sheets. He listened to the shower operating he felt lethargic, and fuzzy headed his mouth full of fur. Too many Tankers he really needed to limit his intake. Sitting up he crawled over to the bedside furniture and rummaged in a drawer for an anti intoxicant and hangover cure that wasn’t there. He noticed the time, and realised Shimoo was either running late or going to miss another shift. Since moving in she didn’t seem to care if she worked or not. Garrin wondered would ArgonForge send her packing if she lost her position. He supposed not as long as she had access to his credit balance, and her families connections.
He questioned if Shimoo was just using him for kicks and credits? Then asked himself did he care? Lately he had been wondering what he did care about! Nothing really seemed important, just eating drinking, circulating, and rutting! Another day cycle in paradise stretching again Garrin yawned, and scratched under one armpit, taking a whiff he realised he had best follow The Golden One into the shower after she exited all smooth, and shiny.
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 25 – Station Running
Back on AFC 4 Carl opened the door to the private sanctum of his security booth, and gestured for Abel to go ahead! Abel - looking like a puppy that had been caught piddling on a rug - shuffled in with his head down. The rumpled, pathetic, forty year old communications expert made a sorry rebel! Carl followed scowling. The soundproof door shot closed. The plastic-glass darkening into a rare state of fully opaque black!
Ferg shrugged, and looked away. At this rate he was never going to get around to giving the Commander those unhappy overtime figures. When Carl remembered to engage full privacy it meant he was not only angry, but feeling cold and calculating with it - a very bad omen for old Abel!
No need to guess what it was about. Abel had been doing the rounds; trying to drum up ground level support, against Gregor’s plan to court marshal the traitor Rud. Although Abel’s impassioned rants had caused a few to reconsider the full vitriol of their newfound hostility (even won over a few full converts), others had taken extreme exception to Abel’s defence of the AFC 4 security leak.
Over a few shifts positions had hardened. Eventually tensions over spilled in the CAO’s tiny duty canteen. A casual hasty debate over dog-eared sandwiches had turned into an angry row then a scuffle. Nothing serious mostly: shouting, shoving, and posturing with a few half-hearted body blows. Security certainly weren’t involved - at least not in an official capacity - but word got out. Well nothing is secret on AFC 4.
The other participants had already visited the Commanders office arriving subdued like children dragged before the principle. Abel’s session was left to last without doubt a deliberately cruel policy. Abel was given plenty of time to consider the full weight of his folly, and any potential punishment! Carl could be a real bear when he was in full bristle so even a scolding was dreaded. Ferg wondered if Gregor knew about the little fracas. Recently the Administrator seemed to be doing the bulk of his business from the distant comfort of his own (private office) apartment in the High Tower.
The Administrators presence was fast becoming a virtual one. Downloaded instructions forwarded via text, comm and visual Inter Link, and through his now harried PA Anna. Anna Dei the fabled Assassin of Hearts was doing a whole new kind of Station Running these cycles back, and forth between Gregor, and the CAO [Central Administration Office]. This treatment was making even the super chilled PA a bit steamed. Ferg had noticed that around Gregor Anna always put on a brave face, but when her boss was elsewhere the once perfect mask now occasionally slipped off!
All in all the office felt tight like an overstretched Split war drum skin, everybody was on edge: a bit grouchy, even downright suspicious! Accusations had been cast about espionage accomplices on one side, corporate stooge on the other. Ferg, and a few others who refused to commit were lectured and abused by both camps. Ferg had been branded: apathetic, uncaring, and a coward. All Ferg wanted was to get on with his insular duties, collect his wages, and get a bit of recognition maybe even a promotion. Ferg believed he worked fekking hard enough to deserve one, and put up with a crate of poop besides!
Morale was plummeting like a stricken spacecraft; a powerless vehicle caught in the pull of an especially dense planet’s gravity well! It was the horror of a perfectly formulaic decline towards inevitable fiery destruction. Carl’s intervention had only internalised the feud into a new stage. The conflict had simply gone underground instead of words - silence, instead of aggressive gestures (pointing fingers) - dark and sullen looks, instead of teamwork - avoidance, and a lack of cooperation!
Ferg was very happy his current shift was almost over. Nonetheless, he could swear some saboteur had been busy putting the clock back every time he looked away. Dragging his eyes off the offending timepiece Ferg instinctively yawned, almost overwhelmed by a wave of tiredness. Refusing to give in he rubbed his neck, shook his head, and returned to juggling the ill fitting budget to wage figures.
Anna whisked along in a four-seat executive station transit module. Fast and efficient the computer controlled floating rail system complemented the forges lifts in providing ultra fast passage from point to point. The only quicker way was internal Goner Transport Device but Anna didn’t have access to that - spin off Goner Jump Drive - technology. AF kept internal Transporters locked down beyond emergency applications. Internal Transport’s were rightly deemed too much of a potential security hazard!
Mulling over the current situation report Anna had a lot on her mind. The PA half wished Gregor was not one of her key test subjects. The idea being that if the ‘Hive access Core’ system could operate covertly under even the nose of the head of the Forge it truly was covertly successful. Anna would have been delighted if her boss had a happy, non-fatal, accident that would get him out of her hair! However if she acted it would void the validity of the program, and she was so close to the pre arranged test periods conclusion.
Nonetheless doing her real work was getting close to impossible now that Gregor was being such an Argnu’s rectum! In fact Anna imagined she would be forced to extend the schedule much to her dismay. The PA dreamed about setting Ravn on the Administrator then blanched. The military operative’s fairly detailed after action report had shocked her to the core - no pun intended! His murderous casual efficiency, Ravn had diced three Argon individuals (possibly with connections to another ANI faction) without even batting an eyelid. Maybe the fact that they might be Navy made it easier for the ex soldier!
Nor had he told her everything; how had he managed to get a jump on three armed men, even aided with a covert Laser Line that was a serious achievement. Anna Dei wasn’t happy to hear that Febr had been injured either. Whatever stunt Ravn had pulled it had taken a chunk out of him for a few cycles as her surveillance had witnessed. Anna suspected some kind of internal boost perhaps state of the art - bio - or cybernetic implants? The skilled role-playing supposed simple grunt security guard agent that she had been assigned - had proved himself an Assassin - something else for her to worry about.
Another concern was the fact that Anna had failed in all attempts so far to cage any Messenger Drones. Every active one she had kept back from downtime Hive integration had committed suicide and turning into less than dust. Luckily the Queen could easily squirt out more drones that Anna could subvert using her hack imprinter. Still it was lab research - not a field job - Anna lacked both the time, and resources required so her failures came as no surprise it was poor methodology! The ultimate consequence was that Anna could only plug in when squirreled away in her cubicle, and had to keep relying on the hives surveillance responding to her deployment of the lure. Being monitored by her own covert surveillance system sometimes made Anna a bit itchy!
Lastly the whole Rud fiasco might be a jolly for Gregor, and indeed give him extra corporate notoriety plus external media spin - to fight his poor image on Prime, but it was killing on board AFC 4 morale! It was a child’s Seesaw what Gregor got on one side he was losing on the other. Anna felt like she was trying to balance in the middle of the oscillating lever while two parties jounced up, and down laughing. It was all playground stuff!
Anna was also now aware that Gregor was deliberately punishing his PA because of his own current feelings of insecurity. The hive had flagged up a conversation in which Anna’s employer was badmouthing his assistant to the ArgonForge Vice President Jollo, (a supposedly sealed communication relay); the deluded Gregor had decided Anna wanted his position. Gregor even hinted Anna was behind his refugee blunder! The accusation was a bit too close to the truth even though Anna’s motivation had been the opposite of his paranoiac take over surmise. Essentially Gregor’s PA had been forced to work her rear off keeping her test subject on AFC 4. If Gregor had rocketed off to some new complex all bets would have been off.
Of course it had been an opportunist move Anna had no control over the Khaak, or the Navy’s initial decision. Anna had simply manipulated Gregor into resisting, and then had a friendly with ANI to get them to turn the necessary screws. However although it kept Gregor on site it had rather backfired in other regards.
At the so-called dungeon on AFC 4 a suspected Pirate was taken by surprise by an unexpected visitation.
“Ok you’re free to go. Try to keep out of trouble until your hearing!” said the guard.
“Pardon,” said Bedon being unusually polite, not getting the drift.
“You’re free to go. It’s your lucky day. Your friends posted your bail,” explained the guard.
“Paranidia,” cursed Bedon his eyes filled with alarm he sat back down on the bunk.
“Now what?” asked the guard, “no way you’re going to convince me the food here is that good!” he chortled at the felons odd behaviour.
“I’m not going anywhere. You can’t just kick me out. I want to see my lawyer!” yelled Bedon.
“Look we don’t need a fuss! We need the cubicle space. You’re all free, and bonded to go,” said the policeman thinking things just get weirder and weirder around here.
“Fekking, fek that,” roared Bedon jumping up he punched the copper full in the face flattening his nose, then kneed him with all the force he could muster in the groin.
The guard screaming keeled over, and commenced rolling about clutching himself in agony at both inflicted injury points. Well he should have been wearing his protection.
Bedon sat back down waiting to take his beating, and be charged. Then decided to up the anti by screaming repeatedly over the coppers moans, “I want my lawyer…”
Bedon knew that was it he had played his last card. He would now have to make his deal with the devil; pray he retained enough Pirate secrets to keep himself alive!
Ravn wasn’t best pleased when he received a new tooth by dispatch. The Fekking ANI didn’t care what he went through as long as he stayed at maximum efficiency. Nor did he dare not install the fekking thing just in case. Maybe next time, or the time after that his heart would give out for good. Some occupation he was in. Still it was up to him. Maybe the Ravn started being a bit subtler, he mused.
Setting up the shipped in training post he commenced a series of tight in martial arts strikes against the wooden pegs, then bounced back on the balls of his feet to strike from further out with his feet, and knees then danced in again. A wonderfully rhythmic clacking accompanied his training session as the apparatus wobbled. At last Ravn realised he felt more or less fully recovered.
Ravn had been keeping fit in other ways recently too, but tonight he had begged off; letting a little grunt coldness slip to the fore, it was always there behind his eyes waiting! Elaen was great when she saw him go remote - she let him be - assuming that he had personal stuff to work through. He wondered if dating the Copper was a smart move. She was a good woman, maybe too good, Elaen deserved better than his lies, and deceits. He wasn’t the Argon she thought he was. The Ravn was only a part of him and a small part at that!
Sometimes looking at her he felt like a platinum plated fekker. However, how could he resist? Elaen had been needy, and come on to him! Hell he had been needy too, and was tired of impersonal paid recreations, and one night stands even if they were safer. Not for the first time Ravn wondered what had possessed Garrin? Then he remembered Shimoo, and realised it was pretty obvious!
Shimoo was annoyed - frustrated - she had been desperately trying to corner Anna Dei ever since she moved into G’s convenient High Tower apartment. Unfortunately the AF PA was so busy Shimoo hadn’t had an opportunity to see her alone. Sure they had been in the same room - on more than one occasion - at one function or another sponsored by the ever-ambitious Gregor, but never alone! It was a rumour of Anna’s presence on AFC 4 that had convinced Shimoo to take the Argon Prime summer season work here in the first place! That woman had contacts in all the right circles - Anna Dei had even worked with the godlike Febr - not that this was widely known, but Shimoo’s family had connections too.
Shimoo had long modelled herself on the Station Running Research, and Development scientist, and sometime gifted xeno-archaeologist. Shimoo was Anna’s biggest fan! Something interesting had to be going on here or Anna was bucking for some new research contract via back channels. Shimoo suspected a Terran link given rumours about new updated ArgonForge forge components. Still it was a trifle odd and unexpected how long Anna had recently been quietly working AF Administration. Shimoo was desperate to be in the loop, and know why?
Leaving an exhausted G on the bed Shimoo wandered naked over to the shower cubicle. The water was glorious; G was a real find both worldly, and yet so innocent in his enthusiasms. It had been so easy to squeeze herself between the spacer, and his brutal unsophisticated Police partner. Her only fear had been that the female might have gone physical on her hide, but it had been a risk worth taking. In the end Elaen had shocked Shimoo by being utterly composed, and civilised. The Lt. Constable even managing to politely - if not surprisingly a bit distantly - greet G, and herself when they accidentally bumped shoulders.
Shimoo suspected Elaen and G even still had the occasional private - meaningful - conversation about life the universe, and AFC 4. Shimoo didn’t mind she knew she had shackles on G’s body, if his soul wandered a bit she could live with it! Ravn was another matter. The big stupid grunt had gone from being an open admirer to giving her cold hard stares. Typical male thinking with his gonads; Ravn was all over protective of his new partner’s feelings, and obviously saw Shimoo as somebody that had casually hurt her!
Still Shimoo couldn’t care less what the big ape thought about her. It wasn’t as if he had enough brain cells - to be in any way dangerous, or a serious annoyance. Drying off in a hot air stream she wondered what her best move would be. It wouldn’t impress her idol if she came across as an over enthusiastic academic groupie.
Garrin stirred from slumber, and stretched out an arm across his real silk sheets. He listened to the shower operating he felt lethargic, and fuzzy headed his mouth full of fur. Too many Tankers he really needed to limit his intake. Sitting up he crawled over to the bedside furniture and rummaged in a drawer for an anti intoxicant and hangover cure that wasn’t there. He noticed the time, and realised Shimoo was either running late or going to miss another shift. Since moving in she didn’t seem to care if she worked or not. Garrin wondered would ArgonForge send her packing if she lost her position. He supposed not as long as she had access to his credit balance, and her families connections.
He questioned if Shimoo was just using him for kicks and credits? Then asked himself did he care? Lately he had been wondering what he did care about! Nothing really seemed important, just eating drinking, circulating, and rutting! Another day cycle in paradise stretching again Garrin yawned, and scratched under one armpit, taking a whiff he realised he had best follow The Golden One into the shower after she exited all smooth, and shiny.
Last edited by Paranoid66 on Sun, 20. Apr 08, 14:26, edited 2 times in total.
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Paranoid66
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Chapter 26
Reapers Passage
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 26 – The Damned
It was a secret base very far off the ecliptic, and the gate grid system. It floated in of all places The Wall. Hidden in another scan disrupting nebula (a favourite of covert builders everywhere) almost surrounded by a spherical mine field. The one way in covered by a score of cunningly disguised laser towers. The defences looking like mere floating wreckage. The base itself - a hollowed out asteroid - could be easily overlooked. It’s docking clamps, and bay screened behind another large floating rock. This made approaches rather tricky especially for super freighters but this was a price ANI [Argon navy Intelligence] was willing to pay.
This was the ‘Fortress of the Damned’ home to the Argons invisible Penal Legion. Here the men and women all carried a death sentence in their veins, one that required a periodic dose of tailor made suppressants. The Fortress was designed to be: barracks, home, training ground, supply depot, and medical facility. Here the legion worked and rested between their often near suicidal strike missions.
After processing on the AM1 Carrier Colossus the ‘Lost for Words’ it was here that most of the Black Rats, and Grey Wolves arrived. Also delivered to the Fortress were other less piratical ex denizens of Freedom. It was the largest number of recruits the Legion had ever undertaken to process in a single batch. Even the surviving ‘Freedom Station’ civilians arrived under the same deadly conditions. This was the price they paid for profiting from criminals.
The civilians were deemed too much of a security risk to let them loose ever again! They would become permanent station crew, living out the rest of their natural lives, servicing the Fortress and its black operations fighters. This death sentence was a hard and unusual punishment by any civilised standard.
It was a hard fate for Lesh, and Teri to accept for very different reasons; Teri because she had suffered multiple rapes while - in mixed gender detention - at Freedom, and had no choice, but to continue living, and working alongside her (Pirate now conscripted Navy) abusers! Lesh because she had been told she would never see - her beloved - children on Argon Prime ever again!
Still at least ANI had promised that; a heavy percentage of Lesh’s wages would continue to provide opportunities for her offspring as they matured. Compared to Teri’s ill fate Lesh counted she was lucky although the whole situation still seemed too bizarre to be real. Lesh was hardly alone in being in a shocked state of denial.
Even many of the hardened Pirates - strapped into their seats - in the TP looked bemused. It was as if everyone was expecting to wake up at any moment; passing out of slumber or a crazy drug induced hallucination into a truer reality.
As to Teri while she had - perhaps fully - recovered physically from her ordeal, the waitress wasn’t the gregarious woman she used to be. Grim and determined would be how Lesh would describe her. The Navy had explained to Teri that such abuse would never happen to her again. Discipline in the Legion at least on station was to be strict, punishments for any offence swift, and brutal. They also told Teri they would endeavour to assign her away from her old tormentors, but they acknowledged that the Fortress was an enclosed space, and that permanent segregation could not be guaranteed!
“Teri you will have to be brave, despite what has happened, and is happening to you,” Fay had explained, “You still have a future - a life! It is up to you what you make of it. You can let wickedness destroy you or use it to become a stronger person!”
At the time this lecture had seemed a horrible, empty mockery to Teri. Later Fay’s words had bit deep and stuck solid. Teri was determined she would get strong, stronger than any of them would ever suspect; they had no right, not the Pirates, and not the Navy! She planned to make every one of her casual assaulters howl with suffering. To inflict a fate as bad if not worse than she had been forced to endure.
Teri clung on to the edges of a fragile sanity by dreaming about sweet raw blood in the eye revenge! She had felt dead inside - long - before they had administered their persistent toxin. Teri would see them all in the same dark space. When this work was done - Teri would escape this Universe of pain - leave her misery forever but not before she had her own private measure of cruel satisfaction.
In Priests Pity Kerry was learning lessons of her own that love, and hate fly between the stars on invisible wings - Angel Wings. Kerry listened intently as the Paranid surgeon rumbled on through a translating device. To say it didn’t have much of a bedside manner would be a mild understatement! Dealing with Paranid always gave Kerry a headache. With the pain from her eye things were especially bad. The Paranid had a way of sub-vocalising when dealing with aliens the mouth would move making almost indiscernible grumbles while the throat rumbled, then their translators would blare out in the appropriate tongue. Correct grammar depended on the unit’s capabilities times the Paranid’s education!
“Truly tragic I must say,” this unusually eloquent box roared as the Paranid gripped her jaws with a massively long gnarled hand - keeping Kerry’s head still - as its three eyes came together to peer down from the depths of its bony eye ridge, “I don’t know how you beings manage with just two, and now you will have to get by impossibly with just the one, hmmmfff.”
“Is their no hope of - any - sight being recovered in the injured eye?” questioned Kerry.
“Well you could always get the orb replaced with a cybernetic unit or have a new one cloned, and installed. Still I don’t have those resources here, besides I doubt you could afford it, eyes have always been prohibitively expensive units in Paranid space,” its translator thundered, “I could of course pluck it out, fill the rancid hole with a matching false orb. I do have the equipment to make a good quality dummy. Well it would look a lot better than the horrible mess you have at the moment! Won’t make a blind bit of difference to your impaired vision though,” the machine said with synthesised laughter.
Kerry winced, “If I do that would I still be able to get a cybernetic or clone job later?”
“I doubt it eye surgery isn’t like jumping across a system you know,” the Paranid explained, “very delicate, you’ll have to stick with the pain, and the ugliness if you want to go for the big operation later,” it showed its fangs in a poor - wide mouthed - horrific imitation of a human grin, “Still might be good for intimidating your enemies, hee, hee, the baleful stare. Very effective I’m sure. Certainly gives me the creeps looking at it! It’s like being looked at by two lone - separate - beady eyes stuck on a maggoty pale corpses face,” it shuddered, “singularly off putting!”
“Guess it’s a patch or bandanna then,” Kerry said, “it just seems like an awful Pirate cliché mockery,” she groaned.
“Well,” said the surgeon twisting one bony clawed figured hand, “if you change your mind, I’ll pop it out anytime. Would make an interesting addition to my collection,” the Paranid gestured to a series of bottles lining a high shelf, “everyone has a story, you know. It would be amusing to show it off. I could tell my customers how the infamous human Pirate Jorac known as - the Arch Fallen Angel, and the Devil - lost his mind; and blinded his sister,” it roared in simulated Argon laughter!
Kerry just slid awkwardly off the oversized couch, and made for the exit.
“Don’t forget to pay my assistant on the way out,” noted the Paranid, “or my associates will come to collect more than your eyeball,” the monsters laughter followed her out.
After parting with the credits and exiting the Paranid butchers domain, Kerry decided to check out Jorac’s old now her new ship, and decide what she was going to do next. Unfortunately when she arrived at the Nova Raider she found it under Paranid guard.
“You go away or Paranid will crush you good,” explained a rather slow dim witted sounding hulk of a Paranid barbarian or one with a cheap, and nasty sound box system.
The creature was dressed in what looked like a giant fur toga, and was wearing an outrageously tall hat (like a pointy crown of bones). Figures flexed as its long limbs unfolded with what it - no doubt - thought was a suitably serious degree of menace.
“This my ship,” Kerry stated defiantly using the creatures brogue, “get out of way - lanky piece of Paranid puke!”
“You lie unclean one, ship impounded, station owned, go away puny Argon being,” it said, “or Paranid will squeeze till weak little bones crack, fleshy skin bursts, and blood leaks out all over nice clean deck! What happen to eye?” it asked suddenly sounding sympathetic, and perhaps a little horror struck.
“Eye inflicted with evil Argon curse,” returned Kerry with a bout of inspiration, “anybody see, loses eye too,” she said dramatically reaching to lift her simple patch.
“By the sacred three,” intoned the Paranid making a strange gesture with one hand in the air, “go away, Paranid not look.” The creature’s three eyes swivelled in every direction but at where Kerry stood.
“Ha,” said Kerry, “let on ship or have two eyes like cursed unclean Argon.”
The paranoid squealed backing off, “Go, go, Almankksnol not see you,” it turned its back, and stared hard away as if its sight had been nailed to the distant bay’s bulkhead.
Laughing Kerry pulled out her electronic key and cracked the hatch, “Hello Demon,” she said.
In Elena’s Fortune Febr stared out a portal across the massive silver bulk of the AM1 Carrier the ‘Lost for Words’, out in the dark the navy ships where engaging in another set of mock battles. This time the Carrier, and its squadrons were also taking part. It was an impressive show of force, but it didn’t make the scientist feel very safe.
He couldn’t believe Anna had sent that murderer to throw him off the station. He guessed once more he was lucky to be alive. Febr had only caught the barest glimpse of the action - it had taken place so quickly - or perhaps his mind had simply refused to take it all in. The way the flesh had parted. One fraction of a station segment three sentient reasoning thinking entities had been in existence the next - lumps of meat rested on the floor. Febr hadn’t been able to face a Cahonna Steak since! The marines had even mocked his choice of greenery in the canteen.
It was lucky that it was a ship hosting Fay that had picked him up. If anyone in ANI had any sympathy with the old fool Febr it was Fay! Still he saw the glint of avarice in even her eye when she talked about the ‘Hive access Cores’ potential! If only he had succeeded in destroying the Generator device. However the aliens knew how to make items that were as indestructible; as they knew how to create devices that were fragile.
How many Queens, and Drones had they lost in the beginning? They had ceased even keeping count; well he had though Anna probably had it all catalogued. Febr pulled out his golden timepiece, “Anna, Anna, Anna,” he said out loud. Fay had told him about his old colleague now being called the Assassin of Hearts that one had made him belly laugh!
So what now? All Febr could think to do was keep nibbling away at Fay, If he could bring her into the light while there was still time. He wondered what the Core was making of the information it was being fed at the moment. He wondered what surprises still lay hidden even in the functionality of the Hive. It was madness they where testing to unleash a system they didn’t even vaguely comprehend. Febr didn’t comprehend it, and he had spent endless cycles: collecting data, taking readings, and working up wild theories.
At least he didn’t think Fay would dump him back in to the Argon Prime Asylum. Still he was still a prisoner on this ship. Constantly if discreetly shadowed by guards, and no doubt monitored by multiple electronic systems as well. He could feel all those eyes burning in to the back of his neck, forever watching! Everybody watched everybody else these days! Febr was bored with his own petty act of voyeurism. Jaded with the display outside, and tired listening to his cyclic thoughts. He wandered back to Fay’s cabin. With luck he would get another chance later to whisper in her ear. If anyone could mount an operation to take out the alien technology - once and for all - Fay could.
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 26 – The Damned
It was a secret base very far off the ecliptic, and the gate grid system. It floated in of all places The Wall. Hidden in another scan disrupting nebula (a favourite of covert builders everywhere) almost surrounded by a spherical mine field. The one way in covered by a score of cunningly disguised laser towers. The defences looking like mere floating wreckage. The base itself - a hollowed out asteroid - could be easily overlooked. It’s docking clamps, and bay screened behind another large floating rock. This made approaches rather tricky especially for super freighters but this was a price ANI [Argon navy Intelligence] was willing to pay.
This was the ‘Fortress of the Damned’ home to the Argons invisible Penal Legion. Here the men and women all carried a death sentence in their veins, one that required a periodic dose of tailor made suppressants. The Fortress was designed to be: barracks, home, training ground, supply depot, and medical facility. Here the legion worked and rested between their often near suicidal strike missions.
After processing on the AM1 Carrier Colossus the ‘Lost for Words’ it was here that most of the Black Rats, and Grey Wolves arrived. Also delivered to the Fortress were other less piratical ex denizens of Freedom. It was the largest number of recruits the Legion had ever undertaken to process in a single batch. Even the surviving ‘Freedom Station’ civilians arrived under the same deadly conditions. This was the price they paid for profiting from criminals.
The civilians were deemed too much of a security risk to let them loose ever again! They would become permanent station crew, living out the rest of their natural lives, servicing the Fortress and its black operations fighters. This death sentence was a hard and unusual punishment by any civilised standard.
It was a hard fate for Lesh, and Teri to accept for very different reasons; Teri because she had suffered multiple rapes while - in mixed gender detention - at Freedom, and had no choice, but to continue living, and working alongside her (Pirate now conscripted Navy) abusers! Lesh because she had been told she would never see - her beloved - children on Argon Prime ever again!
Still at least ANI had promised that; a heavy percentage of Lesh’s wages would continue to provide opportunities for her offspring as they matured. Compared to Teri’s ill fate Lesh counted she was lucky although the whole situation still seemed too bizarre to be real. Lesh was hardly alone in being in a shocked state of denial.
Even many of the hardened Pirates - strapped into their seats - in the TP looked bemused. It was as if everyone was expecting to wake up at any moment; passing out of slumber or a crazy drug induced hallucination into a truer reality.
As to Teri while she had - perhaps fully - recovered physically from her ordeal, the waitress wasn’t the gregarious woman she used to be. Grim and determined would be how Lesh would describe her. The Navy had explained to Teri that such abuse would never happen to her again. Discipline in the Legion at least on station was to be strict, punishments for any offence swift, and brutal. They also told Teri they would endeavour to assign her away from her old tormentors, but they acknowledged that the Fortress was an enclosed space, and that permanent segregation could not be guaranteed!
“Teri you will have to be brave, despite what has happened, and is happening to you,” Fay had explained, “You still have a future - a life! It is up to you what you make of it. You can let wickedness destroy you or use it to become a stronger person!”
At the time this lecture had seemed a horrible, empty mockery to Teri. Later Fay’s words had bit deep and stuck solid. Teri was determined she would get strong, stronger than any of them would ever suspect; they had no right, not the Pirates, and not the Navy! She planned to make every one of her casual assaulters howl with suffering. To inflict a fate as bad if not worse than she had been forced to endure.
Teri clung on to the edges of a fragile sanity by dreaming about sweet raw blood in the eye revenge! She had felt dead inside - long - before they had administered their persistent toxin. Teri would see them all in the same dark space. When this work was done - Teri would escape this Universe of pain - leave her misery forever but not before she had her own private measure of cruel satisfaction.
In Priests Pity Kerry was learning lessons of her own that love, and hate fly between the stars on invisible wings - Angel Wings. Kerry listened intently as the Paranid surgeon rumbled on through a translating device. To say it didn’t have much of a bedside manner would be a mild understatement! Dealing with Paranid always gave Kerry a headache. With the pain from her eye things were especially bad. The Paranid had a way of sub-vocalising when dealing with aliens the mouth would move making almost indiscernible grumbles while the throat rumbled, then their translators would blare out in the appropriate tongue. Correct grammar depended on the unit’s capabilities times the Paranid’s education!
“Truly tragic I must say,” this unusually eloquent box roared as the Paranid gripped her jaws with a massively long gnarled hand - keeping Kerry’s head still - as its three eyes came together to peer down from the depths of its bony eye ridge, “I don’t know how you beings manage with just two, and now you will have to get by impossibly with just the one, hmmmfff.”
“Is their no hope of - any - sight being recovered in the injured eye?” questioned Kerry.
“Well you could always get the orb replaced with a cybernetic unit or have a new one cloned, and installed. Still I don’t have those resources here, besides I doubt you could afford it, eyes have always been prohibitively expensive units in Paranid space,” its translator thundered, “I could of course pluck it out, fill the rancid hole with a matching false orb. I do have the equipment to make a good quality dummy. Well it would look a lot better than the horrible mess you have at the moment! Won’t make a blind bit of difference to your impaired vision though,” the machine said with synthesised laughter.
Kerry winced, “If I do that would I still be able to get a cybernetic or clone job later?”
“I doubt it eye surgery isn’t like jumping across a system you know,” the Paranid explained, “very delicate, you’ll have to stick with the pain, and the ugliness if you want to go for the big operation later,” it showed its fangs in a poor - wide mouthed - horrific imitation of a human grin, “Still might be good for intimidating your enemies, hee, hee, the baleful stare. Very effective I’m sure. Certainly gives me the creeps looking at it! It’s like being looked at by two lone - separate - beady eyes stuck on a maggoty pale corpses face,” it shuddered, “singularly off putting!”
“Guess it’s a patch or bandanna then,” Kerry said, “it just seems like an awful Pirate cliché mockery,” she groaned.
“Well,” said the surgeon twisting one bony clawed figured hand, “if you change your mind, I’ll pop it out anytime. Would make an interesting addition to my collection,” the Paranid gestured to a series of bottles lining a high shelf, “everyone has a story, you know. It would be amusing to show it off. I could tell my customers how the infamous human Pirate Jorac known as - the Arch Fallen Angel, and the Devil - lost his mind; and blinded his sister,” it roared in simulated Argon laughter!
Kerry just slid awkwardly off the oversized couch, and made for the exit.
“Don’t forget to pay my assistant on the way out,” noted the Paranid, “or my associates will come to collect more than your eyeball,” the monsters laughter followed her out.
After parting with the credits and exiting the Paranid butchers domain, Kerry decided to check out Jorac’s old now her new ship, and decide what she was going to do next. Unfortunately when she arrived at the Nova Raider she found it under Paranid guard.
“You go away or Paranid will crush you good,” explained a rather slow dim witted sounding hulk of a Paranid barbarian or one with a cheap, and nasty sound box system.
The creature was dressed in what looked like a giant fur toga, and was wearing an outrageously tall hat (like a pointy crown of bones). Figures flexed as its long limbs unfolded with what it - no doubt - thought was a suitably serious degree of menace.
“This my ship,” Kerry stated defiantly using the creatures brogue, “get out of way - lanky piece of Paranid puke!”
“You lie unclean one, ship impounded, station owned, go away puny Argon being,” it said, “or Paranid will squeeze till weak little bones crack, fleshy skin bursts, and blood leaks out all over nice clean deck! What happen to eye?” it asked suddenly sounding sympathetic, and perhaps a little horror struck.
“Eye inflicted with evil Argon curse,” returned Kerry with a bout of inspiration, “anybody see, loses eye too,” she said dramatically reaching to lift her simple patch.
“By the sacred three,” intoned the Paranid making a strange gesture with one hand in the air, “go away, Paranid not look.” The creature’s three eyes swivelled in every direction but at where Kerry stood.
“Ha,” said Kerry, “let on ship or have two eyes like cursed unclean Argon.”
The paranoid squealed backing off, “Go, go, Almankksnol not see you,” it turned its back, and stared hard away as if its sight had been nailed to the distant bay’s bulkhead.
Laughing Kerry pulled out her electronic key and cracked the hatch, “Hello Demon,” she said.
In Elena’s Fortune Febr stared out a portal across the massive silver bulk of the AM1 Carrier the ‘Lost for Words’, out in the dark the navy ships where engaging in another set of mock battles. This time the Carrier, and its squadrons were also taking part. It was an impressive show of force, but it didn’t make the scientist feel very safe.
He couldn’t believe Anna had sent that murderer to throw him off the station. He guessed once more he was lucky to be alive. Febr had only caught the barest glimpse of the action - it had taken place so quickly - or perhaps his mind had simply refused to take it all in. The way the flesh had parted. One fraction of a station segment three sentient reasoning thinking entities had been in existence the next - lumps of meat rested on the floor. Febr hadn’t been able to face a Cahonna Steak since! The marines had even mocked his choice of greenery in the canteen.
It was lucky that it was a ship hosting Fay that had picked him up. If anyone in ANI had any sympathy with the old fool Febr it was Fay! Still he saw the glint of avarice in even her eye when she talked about the ‘Hive access Cores’ potential! If only he had succeeded in destroying the Generator device. However the aliens knew how to make items that were as indestructible; as they knew how to create devices that were fragile.
How many Queens, and Drones had they lost in the beginning? They had ceased even keeping count; well he had though Anna probably had it all catalogued. Febr pulled out his golden timepiece, “Anna, Anna, Anna,” he said out loud. Fay had told him about his old colleague now being called the Assassin of Hearts that one had made him belly laugh!
So what now? All Febr could think to do was keep nibbling away at Fay, If he could bring her into the light while there was still time. He wondered what the Core was making of the information it was being fed at the moment. He wondered what surprises still lay hidden even in the functionality of the Hive. It was madness they where testing to unleash a system they didn’t even vaguely comprehend. Febr didn’t comprehend it, and he had spent endless cycles: collecting data, taking readings, and working up wild theories.
At least he didn’t think Fay would dump him back in to the Argon Prime Asylum. Still he was still a prisoner on this ship. Constantly if discreetly shadowed by guards, and no doubt monitored by multiple electronic systems as well. He could feel all those eyes burning in to the back of his neck, forever watching! Everybody watched everybody else these days! Febr was bored with his own petty act of voyeurism. Jaded with the display outside, and tired listening to his cyclic thoughts. He wandered back to Fay’s cabin. With luck he would get another chance later to whisper in her ear. If anyone could mount an operation to take out the alien technology - once and for all - Fay could.
Last edited by Paranoid66 on Sun, 20. Apr 08, 14:27, edited 3 times in total.
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Paranoid66
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chapter 27
Reapers Passage
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 27 – Another Minor Distraction
On AFC 4 Gregor handed Anna a long printed flexi-sheet with a self satisfied grin.
“I expect you to each of these items personally. I want everything to be perfect: the reception, the guest quarters, the media release, the press conference, everything! I’m holding you directly responsible!” said Gregor. The way he put it, it sounded like a threat, not an opportunity to impress!
“It might have been more - expedient - if you had just Inter Linked these instructions,” Anna said gently, “all this travel backwards, and forwards is damaging our efficiency as a team. I wond-”
“Don’t make excuses,” Gregor interrupted, “I’m not interested,” he continued, “We had one security leak we could have more. I won’t trust the Inter Link with the - more important - data it could be compromised. I won’t be spied on by my own disloyal staff!” he hissed, “You’re not paid to question your instructions or my methods. You’re paid to facilitate my requirements,” he said with a growl, “I hear there is an insurrection brewing in the CAO. I moved out just in time. I won’t stand for it. I’ll call in the Marines if necessary. I’ll weed out every rat, every anti Argon turncoat traitor,” he enthused, “all of them… Anna!” Gregor said his voice ending in a sneer and a hard stare his right hand started trembling involuntarily.
Anna was shocked - looking at the length of the list - Gregor had been busy, “I’ll get on it Gregor,” she smiled, “you have no reason to worry, everything will be perfect, just the way you want it,” Paranidia, Anna thought Gregor is totally losing it, what am I going to do now? She would certainly have to adjust the Hives priorities.
“Good you had best be going then,” he said turning his back to gaze out the portal again.
Gregor’s unselfconscious stance reminded Anna of an AVR [active virtual reality] game general surveying his forces before a battle. She noticed Gregor clasped his trembling hand tight in the other behind his back, and was rocking slightly on the balls of his feet. The scene was darkly comic. The set piece could easily have been hacked together by a bored media student, given a title of something like ‘Tyrants R Us!’
Anna hurriedly let herself out past the bulk of two of Gregor’s newly installed external ArgonForge bodyguards. It was always the unexpected consequences that bit down the hardest. Anna had never imagined the capable businessman would fracture so easily. Normally she considered herself a good judge of character. Anna had believed Gregor was steel - strong but flexible - now it turned out he was cast iron, hard but brittle.
In a belated insight Anna realised the man had never actually ever been tested. Gregor had never suffered a defeat, luck connections, and it would seem now only a - modicum - of ability had launched the Administrator over all previous obstacles until now! Looking down the list she couldn’t help but swear inwardly to herself, well this is really fekking fekked up, Anna thought.
A few cycles later…
Ravn and Elaen stood in their best - spit and polish - dress uniforms as part of the backdrop for the real (CAO) delegation welcoming the Very Important Persons. Gregor had created a media circus around Rud’s pre trial hearing abusing his AF connections, and every bit of influence he could still muster. The AFC 4 Administrator had dragged in anchor Argon (males, and females) from a number of prestigious news, and current affair channels, hawkish ex, and current members of the Argon Senate, and Military, not to mention a few (bored or media grabbing) members of the ArgonForge Shareholders Board. Others also present included the usual hangers on political groupies, and curious celebrities. Any do good - civil rights - types however had been thoroughly weeded out, and denied entry access to the proceedings.
New signage had been erected around the station to compliment the old in this specific bay: poster campaigns on electronic Flexi-sheets these read, ArgonForge 4 producing the weapons that secure the Federations future, and ArgonForge our security is your peace of mind! Also prominent were older slogans including: Argon Technology Forges Ahead, and AFC 4 Your Security, Our Business!
Short cyclic 3d projections also played out on a few strategically placed podiums - usually used at sales conferences - one was a slowly spinning model of the impressive station itself, others displayed various products from huge scaled down Photon Pulse Canon’s to one almost life size Alpha Impulse Ray Emitter that glowed with overwritten marketing details. A central and especially large display played out soundless footage of the Argon Navy destroying Khaak Invaders using (cunning graphically identified) ArgonForge weapon systems with the subtitle of AN, and AF - Stand Together.
Elaen struggled not to smile Ravn looked a little uncomfortable in his stiff-necked, and heavily starched outfit. Still Elaen thought Ravn filled it well. As they watched the spill, and listened to the interviews, camera drones buzzed around incessantly like frantic space flies. One Camera Drone even took an interest in recording the Corporate Police Argon as they stood at attention.
That’s not good thought Ravn then relaxed a bit thinking his was still just one face lost among hundreds. Eventually the visitors were shepherded on to new locations and Ravn, and Elaen dismissed by Carl. It was time to change, and resume less formal duties.
“I could almost feel sorry for Rud,” said Elaen, “this is not my idea of justice!”
“I’ve no time for traitors,” said Ravn bluntly with a lot of feeling.
Elaen was initially a bit surprised at Ravn’s ire. Then she considered Ravn’s military (friend or foe) background and reconsidered.
“I still don’t like what Gregor is doing,” Elaen said
“That data the fool sold included information on our rosters,” noted Ravn, “How would you feel if we had been the victims of a planned attack? Even a Clerk should know better, this is after all a secure facility. Did Rud fall asleep during his whole induction? Or didn’t the Argon care about selling out the safety of his own colleagues?”
Elaen had to admit Ravn had made a valid point. No real damage had occurred because of the leak, but if it had not been uncovered? Gregor’s spin on the affair nonetheless still rubbed the Lt. Constable emotionally up the wrong way! Recently Gregor had been doing that to a lot of people. For example: Elaen had been talking with Carl who had decided to confide in his Lt. Constable. Carl was not impressed that the Administrator had - secretly - couriered in external bodyguards from central AF. The AFC 4 Police Commander considered this action a personal insult, and had made sure Gregor knew it! In return Carl explained to Elaen how Gregor had derided him saying bluntly that he had failed in his duty, a statement Elaen believed was untrue, and unjust!
Gregor claimed Carl had blundered by not adequately vetting the station employee, and was in no position to be getting high handed with his superior. Indeed he claimed Carl’s incompetence was why he had been forced to the necessity of added security measures! Carl had gone ballistic reminding Gregor that Rud was employed before his tenure and taken on by AF to recover some of the debts incurred by his father, and himself, a purely financial, and short sighted decision. A decision made by AF administration not security. Basically Carl pointed the finger back at the CAO.
The two men had had a flaming row over a comm channel. Carl had warned Elaen he suspected Gregor might try, and have him removed. To try and head this off Carl had gone over his immediate superiors head, and lobbied old associates back on Argon Prime. Basically Carl was giving Elaen the heads up in advance. The Commander fully expected the smelly stuff to rendezvous very messily with the rotational wind making mechanism at any moment!
Gregor took the podium, and put on his most serious face. Dramatically he was flanked by two of his new AP AF body guards. The two guards were dressed in overt branded combat armour, and armed with very visible if holstered slug throwers.
“My friends, as you can see I have been forced to extreme measures,” began Gregor indicating his heavy support, “this station was infiltrated by traitors, and one of my own team subverted against the Federation.”
“Recently I was pilloried in the media for questioning an order to fill ArgonForge 4 with a rag tag assortment of poorly documented refugees from a renowned Pirate sector,” stated Gregor, “Now you can see why I was so concerned about the security risks. Argon Forges such as this marvellous creation are vital to the Federations war effort, and to the security of all Argon space. Without weapons our noble navy would be toothless.”
“I will not permit these vital operations to be compromised by saboteurs, and enemies of our race. This is no time for faint hearts; our very species lies under a threat of extinction. The Khaak are not interested in terms only in our utter eradication. Some have said the felon about to be arraigned will not get a fair trial here, some will say he is guilty merely of industrial espionage - I disagree! This criminal’s guilt is not in question. We already have his full confession. The question is what are the boundaries of this felon’s crime? What is an appropriate and rational response?” questioned the Administrator, “I believe as a patriot - the traitor’s punishment - must fit his treacherous offence! Rud Chakr’s crime is one of betrayal: a betrayal of trust, a betrayal of his terms of employment, a betrayal of his colleagues, a betrayal of this station, a betrayal of official secrets, and a betrayal of his species!”
“Justice must be done, and be done well! Today we give out a message to the collaborator. We are broadcasting a clear challenge to those that are the un-friends of the Argon in this time of war,” stated the angry Administrator, “Under the legislation of the current state of emergency; these people - our enemies - when they act against us must expect to suffer the fate they deserve. I intent to see this spy placed before an extra judicial court martial. I plan to insure our traitor suffers the ultimate sanction of death by spacing! I will take any questions you may have.”
“Administrator Gregor, Ethis Dor (Gate Grids Today) Are you implying this Argon was in league with the Khaak?”
“Not directly, but indirectly yes. If this station is sabotaged ask yourself who benefits?”
“Administrator Gregor, Sherr Bannon representing (Argon Free News) what can you reveal about the detainee’s confederates? Can we expect any more arrests? What was this moles ultimate purpose?” Shear asked.
“An investigation’s into the operative known as - Hiko Elm – are still ongoing. I am sure the Argon Intelligence services will be most thorough. Ultimately our internal spy merely sold out his race for credits. Rud Chakr is no idealist he has no affiliation that could in any way justify his crime, no youthful indoctrination to hide behind. His purpose was purely mercenary!” stated Gregor.
“Administrator Gregor, Avon Tellin (Virtual News Network) this rarely used legislation you wish to invoke what can you explain the nature of this particular legislation, and why you think it applies?”
“Well I’m no lawyer, just a simple manager,” said Gregor with a laugh, “really that question would be better addressed to the members of our legal department who will give a brief interview later. Essentially it allows civilians to come under military jurisdiction, and penalties during times of war or during specific security crisis. It also covers some sensitive civilian professions those contracted to work within, and / or liase with military operations. I am led to believe it is thus doubly applicable in this particular instance.”
With the question and answer session still in full swing Anna Dei slipped out into the quiet, and somehow slightly more wholesome corridor. Gregor seemed to be enjoying himself too much to miss the temporary absence of his PA. Anna felt like she needed clean air even though she knew it was all filtered, and recycled. Everything was going as Gregor desired so far. The administrator need not fear too many awkward questions he was playing to a very carefully picked audience. All the media jocks present being selected for their sympathies to the military, and Gregor’s position.
It would seem the Gregor could pull himself together when every plan followed his design. Still it was early days yet! Even Anna’s contacts were not opposed to the court martial extravaganza deeming it a fine object lesson. Anna still suspected Gregor might be on the edge of a paranoiac breakdown however, and had requested advice. The reply though funny was not amusing. Anna had been told to monitor the situation closely – perhaps somebody in Argon Navy Intelligences idea of an in-joke. Anna’s moment of solitude was broken when another figure exited the pressroom, and joined her.
“Thought I saw you slipping out Anna,” said Carl, “a Teladi credit wafer for your thoughts?”
Anna just answered a question with a question, “I hear you had a little run in with the boss, is everything resolved?” she asked.
“Honestly Anna, I don’t know? Gregor is looking to blame somebody, anybody for his own mistakes, and misfortune losing that promotion has put a fire in his belly. I don’t want to go but maybe staying is a poor option if we can’t work together anymore. Those Argon Prime security bookend’s he is employing,” Carl shook his head, “they are not just an insult to me they are a slap in the face to my whole team!”
“Do you have any good news Carl?” Anna asked.
“Well that thug that tried to lay one on you,” noted Carl, “apparently he has decided to sing. Bedon is more afraid of being released, and sliced up by his ex-associates than staying put in custody, he wants witness protection.”
“Really,” said Anna feeling slightly alarmed, “so has he got anything to sing about?”
“He claims he does. Claims to knows a lot about two separate Pirate outfits,” Carl said quietly.
“Sounds good,” said Anna feeling relieved that her threat to Bedon seemed to be holding. How unlucky she had been to run into somebody who remembered her from that dig on Bala Gi’s Joy with Febr.
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 27 – Another Minor Distraction
On AFC 4 Gregor handed Anna a long printed flexi-sheet with a self satisfied grin.
“I expect you to each of these items personally. I want everything to be perfect: the reception, the guest quarters, the media release, the press conference, everything! I’m holding you directly responsible!” said Gregor. The way he put it, it sounded like a threat, not an opportunity to impress!
“It might have been more - expedient - if you had just Inter Linked these instructions,” Anna said gently, “all this travel backwards, and forwards is damaging our efficiency as a team. I wond-”
“Don’t make excuses,” Gregor interrupted, “I’m not interested,” he continued, “We had one security leak we could have more. I won’t trust the Inter Link with the - more important - data it could be compromised. I won’t be spied on by my own disloyal staff!” he hissed, “You’re not paid to question your instructions or my methods. You’re paid to facilitate my requirements,” he said with a growl, “I hear there is an insurrection brewing in the CAO. I moved out just in time. I won’t stand for it. I’ll call in the Marines if necessary. I’ll weed out every rat, every anti Argon turncoat traitor,” he enthused, “all of them… Anna!” Gregor said his voice ending in a sneer and a hard stare his right hand started trembling involuntarily.
Anna was shocked - looking at the length of the list - Gregor had been busy, “I’ll get on it Gregor,” she smiled, “you have no reason to worry, everything will be perfect, just the way you want it,” Paranidia, Anna thought Gregor is totally losing it, what am I going to do now? She would certainly have to adjust the Hives priorities.
“Good you had best be going then,” he said turning his back to gaze out the portal again.
Gregor’s unselfconscious stance reminded Anna of an AVR [active virtual reality] game general surveying his forces before a battle. She noticed Gregor clasped his trembling hand tight in the other behind his back, and was rocking slightly on the balls of his feet. The scene was darkly comic. The set piece could easily have been hacked together by a bored media student, given a title of something like ‘Tyrants R Us!’
Anna hurriedly let herself out past the bulk of two of Gregor’s newly installed external ArgonForge bodyguards. It was always the unexpected consequences that bit down the hardest. Anna had never imagined the capable businessman would fracture so easily. Normally she considered herself a good judge of character. Anna had believed Gregor was steel - strong but flexible - now it turned out he was cast iron, hard but brittle.
In a belated insight Anna realised the man had never actually ever been tested. Gregor had never suffered a defeat, luck connections, and it would seem now only a - modicum - of ability had launched the Administrator over all previous obstacles until now! Looking down the list she couldn’t help but swear inwardly to herself, well this is really fekking fekked up, Anna thought.
A few cycles later…
Ravn and Elaen stood in their best - spit and polish - dress uniforms as part of the backdrop for the real (CAO) delegation welcoming the Very Important Persons. Gregor had created a media circus around Rud’s pre trial hearing abusing his AF connections, and every bit of influence he could still muster. The AFC 4 Administrator had dragged in anchor Argon (males, and females) from a number of prestigious news, and current affair channels, hawkish ex, and current members of the Argon Senate, and Military, not to mention a few (bored or media grabbing) members of the ArgonForge Shareholders Board. Others also present included the usual hangers on political groupies, and curious celebrities. Any do good - civil rights - types however had been thoroughly weeded out, and denied entry access to the proceedings.
New signage had been erected around the station to compliment the old in this specific bay: poster campaigns on electronic Flexi-sheets these read, ArgonForge 4 producing the weapons that secure the Federations future, and ArgonForge our security is your peace of mind! Also prominent were older slogans including: Argon Technology Forges Ahead, and AFC 4 Your Security, Our Business!
Short cyclic 3d projections also played out on a few strategically placed podiums - usually used at sales conferences - one was a slowly spinning model of the impressive station itself, others displayed various products from huge scaled down Photon Pulse Canon’s to one almost life size Alpha Impulse Ray Emitter that glowed with overwritten marketing details. A central and especially large display played out soundless footage of the Argon Navy destroying Khaak Invaders using (cunning graphically identified) ArgonForge weapon systems with the subtitle of AN, and AF - Stand Together.
Elaen struggled not to smile Ravn looked a little uncomfortable in his stiff-necked, and heavily starched outfit. Still Elaen thought Ravn filled it well. As they watched the spill, and listened to the interviews, camera drones buzzed around incessantly like frantic space flies. One Camera Drone even took an interest in recording the Corporate Police Argon as they stood at attention.
That’s not good thought Ravn then relaxed a bit thinking his was still just one face lost among hundreds. Eventually the visitors were shepherded on to new locations and Ravn, and Elaen dismissed by Carl. It was time to change, and resume less formal duties.
“I could almost feel sorry for Rud,” said Elaen, “this is not my idea of justice!”
“I’ve no time for traitors,” said Ravn bluntly with a lot of feeling.
Elaen was initially a bit surprised at Ravn’s ire. Then she considered Ravn’s military (friend or foe) background and reconsidered.
“I still don’t like what Gregor is doing,” Elaen said
“That data the fool sold included information on our rosters,” noted Ravn, “How would you feel if we had been the victims of a planned attack? Even a Clerk should know better, this is after all a secure facility. Did Rud fall asleep during his whole induction? Or didn’t the Argon care about selling out the safety of his own colleagues?”
Elaen had to admit Ravn had made a valid point. No real damage had occurred because of the leak, but if it had not been uncovered? Gregor’s spin on the affair nonetheless still rubbed the Lt. Constable emotionally up the wrong way! Recently Gregor had been doing that to a lot of people. For example: Elaen had been talking with Carl who had decided to confide in his Lt. Constable. Carl was not impressed that the Administrator had - secretly - couriered in external bodyguards from central AF. The AFC 4 Police Commander considered this action a personal insult, and had made sure Gregor knew it! In return Carl explained to Elaen how Gregor had derided him saying bluntly that he had failed in his duty, a statement Elaen believed was untrue, and unjust!
Gregor claimed Carl had blundered by not adequately vetting the station employee, and was in no position to be getting high handed with his superior. Indeed he claimed Carl’s incompetence was why he had been forced to the necessity of added security measures! Carl had gone ballistic reminding Gregor that Rud was employed before his tenure and taken on by AF to recover some of the debts incurred by his father, and himself, a purely financial, and short sighted decision. A decision made by AF administration not security. Basically Carl pointed the finger back at the CAO.
The two men had had a flaming row over a comm channel. Carl had warned Elaen he suspected Gregor might try, and have him removed. To try and head this off Carl had gone over his immediate superiors head, and lobbied old associates back on Argon Prime. Basically Carl was giving Elaen the heads up in advance. The Commander fully expected the smelly stuff to rendezvous very messily with the rotational wind making mechanism at any moment!
Gregor took the podium, and put on his most serious face. Dramatically he was flanked by two of his new AP AF body guards. The two guards were dressed in overt branded combat armour, and armed with very visible if holstered slug throwers.
“My friends, as you can see I have been forced to extreme measures,” began Gregor indicating his heavy support, “this station was infiltrated by traitors, and one of my own team subverted against the Federation.”
“Recently I was pilloried in the media for questioning an order to fill ArgonForge 4 with a rag tag assortment of poorly documented refugees from a renowned Pirate sector,” stated Gregor, “Now you can see why I was so concerned about the security risks. Argon Forges such as this marvellous creation are vital to the Federations war effort, and to the security of all Argon space. Without weapons our noble navy would be toothless.”
“I will not permit these vital operations to be compromised by saboteurs, and enemies of our race. This is no time for faint hearts; our very species lies under a threat of extinction. The Khaak are not interested in terms only in our utter eradication. Some have said the felon about to be arraigned will not get a fair trial here, some will say he is guilty merely of industrial espionage - I disagree! This criminal’s guilt is not in question. We already have his full confession. The question is what are the boundaries of this felon’s crime? What is an appropriate and rational response?” questioned the Administrator, “I believe as a patriot - the traitor’s punishment - must fit his treacherous offence! Rud Chakr’s crime is one of betrayal: a betrayal of trust, a betrayal of his terms of employment, a betrayal of his colleagues, a betrayal of this station, a betrayal of official secrets, and a betrayal of his species!”
“Justice must be done, and be done well! Today we give out a message to the collaborator. We are broadcasting a clear challenge to those that are the un-friends of the Argon in this time of war,” stated the angry Administrator, “Under the legislation of the current state of emergency; these people - our enemies - when they act against us must expect to suffer the fate they deserve. I intent to see this spy placed before an extra judicial court martial. I plan to insure our traitor suffers the ultimate sanction of death by spacing! I will take any questions you may have.”
“Administrator Gregor, Ethis Dor (Gate Grids Today) Are you implying this Argon was in league with the Khaak?”
“Not directly, but indirectly yes. If this station is sabotaged ask yourself who benefits?”
“Administrator Gregor, Sherr Bannon representing (Argon Free News) what can you reveal about the detainee’s confederates? Can we expect any more arrests? What was this moles ultimate purpose?” Shear asked.
“An investigation’s into the operative known as - Hiko Elm – are still ongoing. I am sure the Argon Intelligence services will be most thorough. Ultimately our internal spy merely sold out his race for credits. Rud Chakr is no idealist he has no affiliation that could in any way justify his crime, no youthful indoctrination to hide behind. His purpose was purely mercenary!” stated Gregor.
“Administrator Gregor, Avon Tellin (Virtual News Network) this rarely used legislation you wish to invoke what can you explain the nature of this particular legislation, and why you think it applies?”
“Well I’m no lawyer, just a simple manager,” said Gregor with a laugh, “really that question would be better addressed to the members of our legal department who will give a brief interview later. Essentially it allows civilians to come under military jurisdiction, and penalties during times of war or during specific security crisis. It also covers some sensitive civilian professions those contracted to work within, and / or liase with military operations. I am led to believe it is thus doubly applicable in this particular instance.”
With the question and answer session still in full swing Anna Dei slipped out into the quiet, and somehow slightly more wholesome corridor. Gregor seemed to be enjoying himself too much to miss the temporary absence of his PA. Anna felt like she needed clean air even though she knew it was all filtered, and recycled. Everything was going as Gregor desired so far. The administrator need not fear too many awkward questions he was playing to a very carefully picked audience. All the media jocks present being selected for their sympathies to the military, and Gregor’s position.
It would seem the Gregor could pull himself together when every plan followed his design. Still it was early days yet! Even Anna’s contacts were not opposed to the court martial extravaganza deeming it a fine object lesson. Anna still suspected Gregor might be on the edge of a paranoiac breakdown however, and had requested advice. The reply though funny was not amusing. Anna had been told to monitor the situation closely – perhaps somebody in Argon Navy Intelligences idea of an in-joke. Anna’s moment of solitude was broken when another figure exited the pressroom, and joined her.
“Thought I saw you slipping out Anna,” said Carl, “a Teladi credit wafer for your thoughts?”
Anna just answered a question with a question, “I hear you had a little run in with the boss, is everything resolved?” she asked.
“Honestly Anna, I don’t know? Gregor is looking to blame somebody, anybody for his own mistakes, and misfortune losing that promotion has put a fire in his belly. I don’t want to go but maybe staying is a poor option if we can’t work together anymore. Those Argon Prime security bookend’s he is employing,” Carl shook his head, “they are not just an insult to me they are a slap in the face to my whole team!”
“Do you have any good news Carl?” Anna asked.
“Well that thug that tried to lay one on you,” noted Carl, “apparently he has decided to sing. Bedon is more afraid of being released, and sliced up by his ex-associates than staying put in custody, he wants witness protection.”
“Really,” said Anna feeling slightly alarmed, “so has he got anything to sing about?”
“He claims he does. Claims to knows a lot about two separate Pirate outfits,” Carl said quietly.
“Sounds good,” said Anna feeling relieved that her threat to Bedon seemed to be holding. How unlucky she had been to run into somebody who remembered her from that dig on Bala Gi’s Joy with Febr.
Last edited by Paranoid66 on Sun, 20. Apr 08, 14:29, edited 2 times in total.
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Paranoid66
- Posts: 4643
- Joined: Tue, 19. Apr 05, 10:59
chapter 28
Reapers Passage
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranid66
Chapter 28 – Of Motivations Incentives and Cyclic Occurrences
On the Paranid Pirate Station in Priests Pity once Kerry had introduced herself to Demon it didn’t take too long to sort out her true provenance with the locals. Via the ships interface, and a biometric scan Kerry gained full access to Jorac’s data sets, and accounts. It was then a simple matter to transfer the necessary outstanding docking, and (new) - on station - ownership transfer fee.
Thinking about the Paranid guard Kerry suspected somebody on the pirate stations staff had been a little over eager. Thought they could requisition the valuable vessel upon rumour of her brother’s demise - as easy credits. The unknown opportunist might even have got away with it if Kerry had not been station side. No one else in Jorac’s fraternity had his sister’s unique level of access. Funny thing was if Jorac was alive he would be having a fit at the idea of his younger sister getting her hands on his combat craft. Jorac had always striven to keep K away from his illegal operations, and dangerous lifestyle while bringing her up in the midst of wreck and ruin!
With the transfer details covered, and Kerry safely inside the protection of the M3 fighters shields she could finally let go. Nonetheless, stubbornly the tears refused to come. Kerry wondered was her inability to mourn caused by the dull ache from her ruined left eye, or was she some kind of monster truly the Devils kin. Kerry felt odd: lost, cold, numb, and remote. Recent events just didn’t seem real it was as if they had happened to somebody else some alien spectre (temporarily inhabited her flesh) insulating, pushing Kerry back into a comfortable passenger seat. Long ago Kerry had schooled herself to expect the inevitable, but she had always imagined getting an impersonal message telling her Jorac was KIA in some far sector.
Kerry had never considered she might be beside her glorious Guardian Angel. Her childhood protector when he plummeted for the last time. Kerry certainly never imagined being forced to wipe away, and discard his blood, and tissue like a meaningless stain upon her face, hands, and clothes.
With brief inactivity a deep exhaustion fell upon her. Staggering still clothed she dropped, and extended the pilots seat into its bunk function, and sent it auto rolling back into the tiny living space behind the cockpit. Dropping into the figure hugging apparatus Kerry tranquillised herself, and fell into a dark deathly sleep.
Kerry awoke confused, and irritable for a moment unsure about where she was, and how she had got there. Then the images flooded in like Khaak released from the bonds of a cluster. Fetching a mirror Kerry was surprised to realise she felt a bizarre sentimental attachment to her new face with its unhealed scars. Jorac’s last moments were written like a map now on that once smooth surface. He would always be a part of her even if she removed every tiny embedded bone fragment. Even the bloody pale orb of her shattered eye seemed appropriate a dark talisman for a new beginning.
Busying herself with routine Kerry replaced the pilots seat ran an engine system check and then interfaced with the stations ICS [integrated central system] and attempted to get some credible answers. Kerry hadn’t even seen where the explosive round had come from. Apparently no one in the Den had either. Further all the security cameras had conveniently, mysteriously failed in that area before, and after the event. Either somebody had come prepared with a general hack, subverted one or more Paranid or the aliens were more directly involved than Kerry wished to consider. An alarm sounded in the cabin dragging Kerry from the textual reports.
“What is going on Demon?” Kerry asked.
“My external sensors have discovered an anomaly on this ships hull,” Demon explained.
“What kind of anomaly?” Kerry asked checking the data.
“Hypothesis ninety eight percent suggests a high yield explosive device,” Demon explained.
“High yield? Powerful enough to destroy the ship?” Kerry asked suddenly more alert.
“Hypothesis indicates eighty five percent chance of total ship destruction plus minor damage to the stations docking bay,” replied Demon, “device lies inside our main shields.”
“How by the floaters tentacles did it get there? Why didn’t you sense it being placed?” Kerry questioned.
“This system was inactive,” returned Demon.
“Inactive?” screeched Kerry.
“Confirmed,” replied Demon.
“Quantify inactive?” demanded Kerry punching through camera views
“In passive standby mode, not actively interfacing with my wider systems,” replied Demon.
“Standby mode, but I left you on full function. Why were you in standby mode?” she cursed eyeing a passive video feed that caught just one corner of something odd. Kerry wondered if she dared launch a free roaming camera drone.
“Standby mode was activated,” replied Demon.
“Are you saying you have an automatically engaged standby timeout?” asked Kerry in disbelief.
“Negative, standby was activated by remote link,” explained Demon.
“Paranidia’s difficult to match stare, we’ve been hacked,” shouted Kerry.
“External feed logged as illicit, preparing to attempt removal, and re-instigation of firewall,” informed Demon.
“Belay function,” screamed Kerry.
“Unable to comply, function was already applied,” said Demon.
“Initiate pilot emergency GTD,” Kerry bellowed.
“GTD initi-,” began Demon as Kerry vanished.
Arriving at a dockside freight transport beacon Kerry was immediately blasted off her feet by the edge of an expanding shock wave, and fell into darkness.
Kerry ears were ringing, and she could swear every muscle in her body was screaming a complaint. Her head felt fuzzy and her eye was another point of agony.
“You wake?” said a loud voice past the internal noise.
“I’ve died and gone to hell,” Kerry complained.
“This is Paranid Central Infirmary, your ship boom, Argon owe Paranid many credits for damage, and treatment. Lie back get well, pay debt or be shipped to Split Mines!” explained a hulking blur.
Kerry just walled her eyes shut against the painful red light, and prayed to the God’s of all the races that the giants hadn’t undertaken anything other than - basic simple procedures! Feeling the stab of a shot she lapsed back into oblivion.
“Wake Argon we speak now. Why you blow up ship? Why you kill Paranid allies? You speak or we squeeze out truth!” growled an angry voice.
“hhhrrrrrr,” replied a groggy Kerry.
“Leave Argon alone,” said another voice, “Argon is Amokassad’s patient, Argon not able to speak, fragile Argon body injured in blast. Why you think foolish Argon blow up own ship?”
“Argons fighter shield was up. Explosion must be self-destruct, the foolish Argon bomber just not set timer right. Why we using human voice translation boxes?”
“Use box to help Argon to regain focus, keep brain active. Go away come back later - leave patient alone till healed - then squeeze out details,” said Amokassad.
“Get well, back soon,” stated her Interrogator.
In Elena’s Fortune on AFC 4 Rud sat through the brief hearing in a shocked daze, responding to the simple questions as if on an internal automatic pilot. Earlier he had passed like a courier’s package from one crazy location to another. Delivered from the silent sensory deprivation of his cell Rud passed to the madhouse outside, then into the surreal Tribunal. There the machinery of the law casually abused him while retaining a stiff, cold, polite, but deadly serious formality.
He was only coming to terms - with all this - when we was transported once more through the baying mob, and found he was staring again at padded walls. So that was that! Rud wondered would the court martial be as brisk, and incomprehensible.
“Fekker didn’t even seem concerned,” noted one voyeur to his friend.
“A cold hearted fek for sure,” replied another.
“Looked like he was in shock to me,” said a third.
“Ha, more likely pumped up with tranquillisers to keep him docile’, said another.
“I’d be fekking panicking if it was me,” said the first speaker.
“If it was you, you’d have khaak in your pants,” roared the second.
“Hey who named the aliens after a load anyway?” questioned the last speaker.
“First people they raped with Kyon Emitter Fire,” said the first.
“Yeah I’d I’ve called them little Khaak’s too,” noted the second.
“It’s just a coincidence,” interjected a more educated sounding accent, “the name is derived from a Split word it just sounds in Argon like feculent matter.”
“Hey, listen to the Professor,” said the second voice mimicking, “just sounds like feculent matter.”
Everybody except the so called professor laughed.
Having returned to his High Tower apartment Gregor was feeling well pleased with his performance, and progress. The AFC 4 Administrator believed he was wearing Anna down rather nicely as well, a few more cycles, and she would know her proper place - as his personal assistant - nothing more! Despite a few Argon Prime weeping civil rights worms - back on Prime under gravity - his publicity campaign was gliding along nicely on a suspensor field.
Carl also looked like he had swallowed a bug these cycles, and the boys in the CAO seemed to have quietened down after their pitiful rebellious protests. Obviously belatedly realising just whom they were dealing with, that their administrator didn’t make empty threats. Yes everything was running fine like a well-oiled machine should. He liked being flanked by his protection too it made people nervous. Gregor had discovered a rare delight in simple intimidation.
Finally Gregor was beginning to appreciate what the Police got out of their dreary employment. He was half tempted to go down to the cells, and roast the prisoner a bit himself. Come down upon Rud or that other turncoat Bedor like an avenging destroyer. Yes that would be quite gratifying, making either or both of those villains squirm. Maybe later right now - Administer Gregor had an address to record - and of course he also had to summon Anna for her next piece of instruction, he sniggered.
Shimoo rushed around getting herself ready only pausing to periodically badger Garrin along, “Hurry my love,” she insisted.
This was one occasion Shimoo didn’t want to be fashionably late. The more time she had the better her chance of cornering her prey, and finally getting some answers.
“Do I have to go?” complained Garrin sulkily, “I’m bored with these stuffed shirts, and I swear I’m starting to get a nibbles belly.”
“Don’t sulk dear,” replied Shimoo, “its just a little post hearing reception, but important people will be there. Potential clients,” she promised, “we can work off that belly later,” she winked, “you need to get yourself some work, have you seen your balance lately, really!”
How did I ever get myself into this mess, thought Garrin, forcing himself in to a now slightly too tightly tailored jacket, “I think I’ll just wear a shirt,” he said hopefully.
“No you don’t,” Shimoo replied running her hands over his shoulders, and prodding him in the gut, “off to the gym with you tomorrow,” she grinned.
“No thanks I’d rather visit another fekking tailor,” G said.
“Language,” Shimoo instructed.
Maybe touting for a job wasn’t such a bad idea, considered Garrin.
Seeing G looking a bit down Shimoo slinked over, and twiddled with his hair playfully.
“Cheer up still plenty of time to have some fun later. Business then pleasure,” she cupped his face and kissed him then danced away to the mirror.
Garrin never remembered Elaen fussing about - this much - before going out! He wondered what she was doing now was she with Ravn, on or off duty?
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranid66
Chapter 28 – Of Motivations Incentives and Cyclic Occurrences
On the Paranid Pirate Station in Priests Pity once Kerry had introduced herself to Demon it didn’t take too long to sort out her true provenance with the locals. Via the ships interface, and a biometric scan Kerry gained full access to Jorac’s data sets, and accounts. It was then a simple matter to transfer the necessary outstanding docking, and (new) - on station - ownership transfer fee.
Thinking about the Paranid guard Kerry suspected somebody on the pirate stations staff had been a little over eager. Thought they could requisition the valuable vessel upon rumour of her brother’s demise - as easy credits. The unknown opportunist might even have got away with it if Kerry had not been station side. No one else in Jorac’s fraternity had his sister’s unique level of access. Funny thing was if Jorac was alive he would be having a fit at the idea of his younger sister getting her hands on his combat craft. Jorac had always striven to keep K away from his illegal operations, and dangerous lifestyle while bringing her up in the midst of wreck and ruin!
With the transfer details covered, and Kerry safely inside the protection of the M3 fighters shields she could finally let go. Nonetheless, stubbornly the tears refused to come. Kerry wondered was her inability to mourn caused by the dull ache from her ruined left eye, or was she some kind of monster truly the Devils kin. Kerry felt odd: lost, cold, numb, and remote. Recent events just didn’t seem real it was as if they had happened to somebody else some alien spectre (temporarily inhabited her flesh) insulating, pushing Kerry back into a comfortable passenger seat. Long ago Kerry had schooled herself to expect the inevitable, but she had always imagined getting an impersonal message telling her Jorac was KIA in some far sector.
Kerry had never considered she might be beside her glorious Guardian Angel. Her childhood protector when he plummeted for the last time. Kerry certainly never imagined being forced to wipe away, and discard his blood, and tissue like a meaningless stain upon her face, hands, and clothes.
With brief inactivity a deep exhaustion fell upon her. Staggering still clothed she dropped, and extended the pilots seat into its bunk function, and sent it auto rolling back into the tiny living space behind the cockpit. Dropping into the figure hugging apparatus Kerry tranquillised herself, and fell into a dark deathly sleep.
Kerry awoke confused, and irritable for a moment unsure about where she was, and how she had got there. Then the images flooded in like Khaak released from the bonds of a cluster. Fetching a mirror Kerry was surprised to realise she felt a bizarre sentimental attachment to her new face with its unhealed scars. Jorac’s last moments were written like a map now on that once smooth surface. He would always be a part of her even if she removed every tiny embedded bone fragment. Even the bloody pale orb of her shattered eye seemed appropriate a dark talisman for a new beginning.
Busying herself with routine Kerry replaced the pilots seat ran an engine system check and then interfaced with the stations ICS [integrated central system] and attempted to get some credible answers. Kerry hadn’t even seen where the explosive round had come from. Apparently no one in the Den had either. Further all the security cameras had conveniently, mysteriously failed in that area before, and after the event. Either somebody had come prepared with a general hack, subverted one or more Paranid or the aliens were more directly involved than Kerry wished to consider. An alarm sounded in the cabin dragging Kerry from the textual reports.
“What is going on Demon?” Kerry asked.
“My external sensors have discovered an anomaly on this ships hull,” Demon explained.
“What kind of anomaly?” Kerry asked checking the data.
“Hypothesis ninety eight percent suggests a high yield explosive device,” Demon explained.
“High yield? Powerful enough to destroy the ship?” Kerry asked suddenly more alert.
“Hypothesis indicates eighty five percent chance of total ship destruction plus minor damage to the stations docking bay,” replied Demon, “device lies inside our main shields.”
“How by the floaters tentacles did it get there? Why didn’t you sense it being placed?” Kerry questioned.
“This system was inactive,” returned Demon.
“Inactive?” screeched Kerry.
“Confirmed,” replied Demon.
“Quantify inactive?” demanded Kerry punching through camera views
“In passive standby mode, not actively interfacing with my wider systems,” replied Demon.
“Standby mode, but I left you on full function. Why were you in standby mode?” she cursed eyeing a passive video feed that caught just one corner of something odd. Kerry wondered if she dared launch a free roaming camera drone.
“Standby mode was activated,” replied Demon.
“Are you saying you have an automatically engaged standby timeout?” asked Kerry in disbelief.
“Negative, standby was activated by remote link,” explained Demon.
“Paranidia’s difficult to match stare, we’ve been hacked,” shouted Kerry.
“External feed logged as illicit, preparing to attempt removal, and re-instigation of firewall,” informed Demon.
“Belay function,” screamed Kerry.
“Unable to comply, function was already applied,” said Demon.
“Initiate pilot emergency GTD,” Kerry bellowed.
“GTD initi-,” began Demon as Kerry vanished.
Arriving at a dockside freight transport beacon Kerry was immediately blasted off her feet by the edge of an expanding shock wave, and fell into darkness.
Kerry ears were ringing, and she could swear every muscle in her body was screaming a complaint. Her head felt fuzzy and her eye was another point of agony.
“You wake?” said a loud voice past the internal noise.
“I’ve died and gone to hell,” Kerry complained.
“This is Paranid Central Infirmary, your ship boom, Argon owe Paranid many credits for damage, and treatment. Lie back get well, pay debt or be shipped to Split Mines!” explained a hulking blur.
Kerry just walled her eyes shut against the painful red light, and prayed to the God’s of all the races that the giants hadn’t undertaken anything other than - basic simple procedures! Feeling the stab of a shot she lapsed back into oblivion.
“Wake Argon we speak now. Why you blow up ship? Why you kill Paranid allies? You speak or we squeeze out truth!” growled an angry voice.
“hhhrrrrrr,” replied a groggy Kerry.
“Leave Argon alone,” said another voice, “Argon is Amokassad’s patient, Argon not able to speak, fragile Argon body injured in blast. Why you think foolish Argon blow up own ship?”
“Argons fighter shield was up. Explosion must be self-destruct, the foolish Argon bomber just not set timer right. Why we using human voice translation boxes?”
“Use box to help Argon to regain focus, keep brain active. Go away come back later - leave patient alone till healed - then squeeze out details,” said Amokassad.
“Get well, back soon,” stated her Interrogator.
In Elena’s Fortune on AFC 4 Rud sat through the brief hearing in a shocked daze, responding to the simple questions as if on an internal automatic pilot. Earlier he had passed like a courier’s package from one crazy location to another. Delivered from the silent sensory deprivation of his cell Rud passed to the madhouse outside, then into the surreal Tribunal. There the machinery of the law casually abused him while retaining a stiff, cold, polite, but deadly serious formality.
He was only coming to terms - with all this - when we was transported once more through the baying mob, and found he was staring again at padded walls. So that was that! Rud wondered would the court martial be as brisk, and incomprehensible.
“Fekker didn’t even seem concerned,” noted one voyeur to his friend.
“A cold hearted fek for sure,” replied another.
“Looked like he was in shock to me,” said a third.
“Ha, more likely pumped up with tranquillisers to keep him docile’, said another.
“I’d be fekking panicking if it was me,” said the first speaker.
“If it was you, you’d have khaak in your pants,” roared the second.
“Hey who named the aliens after a load anyway?” questioned the last speaker.
“First people they raped with Kyon Emitter Fire,” said the first.
“Yeah I’d I’ve called them little Khaak’s too,” noted the second.
“It’s just a coincidence,” interjected a more educated sounding accent, “the name is derived from a Split word it just sounds in Argon like feculent matter.”
“Hey, listen to the Professor,” said the second voice mimicking, “just sounds like feculent matter.”
Everybody except the so called professor laughed.
Having returned to his High Tower apartment Gregor was feeling well pleased with his performance, and progress. The AFC 4 Administrator believed he was wearing Anna down rather nicely as well, a few more cycles, and she would know her proper place - as his personal assistant - nothing more! Despite a few Argon Prime weeping civil rights worms - back on Prime under gravity - his publicity campaign was gliding along nicely on a suspensor field.
Carl also looked like he had swallowed a bug these cycles, and the boys in the CAO seemed to have quietened down after their pitiful rebellious protests. Obviously belatedly realising just whom they were dealing with, that their administrator didn’t make empty threats. Yes everything was running fine like a well-oiled machine should. He liked being flanked by his protection too it made people nervous. Gregor had discovered a rare delight in simple intimidation.
Finally Gregor was beginning to appreciate what the Police got out of their dreary employment. He was half tempted to go down to the cells, and roast the prisoner a bit himself. Come down upon Rud or that other turncoat Bedor like an avenging destroyer. Yes that would be quite gratifying, making either or both of those villains squirm. Maybe later right now - Administer Gregor had an address to record - and of course he also had to summon Anna for her next piece of instruction, he sniggered.
Shimoo rushed around getting herself ready only pausing to periodically badger Garrin along, “Hurry my love,” she insisted.
This was one occasion Shimoo didn’t want to be fashionably late. The more time she had the better her chance of cornering her prey, and finally getting some answers.
“Do I have to go?” complained Garrin sulkily, “I’m bored with these stuffed shirts, and I swear I’m starting to get a nibbles belly.”
“Don’t sulk dear,” replied Shimoo, “its just a little post hearing reception, but important people will be there. Potential clients,” she promised, “we can work off that belly later,” she winked, “you need to get yourself some work, have you seen your balance lately, really!”
How did I ever get myself into this mess, thought Garrin, forcing himself in to a now slightly too tightly tailored jacket, “I think I’ll just wear a shirt,” he said hopefully.
“No you don’t,” Shimoo replied running her hands over his shoulders, and prodding him in the gut, “off to the gym with you tomorrow,” she grinned.
“No thanks I’d rather visit another fekking tailor,” G said.
“Language,” Shimoo instructed.
Maybe touting for a job wasn’t such a bad idea, considered Garrin.
Seeing G looking a bit down Shimoo slinked over, and twiddled with his hair playfully.
“Cheer up still plenty of time to have some fun later. Business then pleasure,” she cupped his face and kissed him then danced away to the mirror.
Garrin never remembered Elaen fussing about - this much - before going out! He wondered what she was doing now was she with Ravn, on or off duty?
Last edited by Paranoid66 on Sun, 20. Apr 08, 14:30, edited 2 times in total.
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Paranoid66
- Posts: 4643
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chapter 29
Reapers Passage
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 29 – A Pilot light
Trapped in Priests Pity Kerry was waiting rather nervously in the red light washed ‘Bone Garden’. The Space Fuel Dens name, and décor was now a double mockery of K’s worst nightmares. This was the last place on the Paranid Anarchy Port that she wanted to be. The sister of the infamous now deceased Pirate Jorac hardly felt secure. Not even the hovering protection of a Paranid Guard could put Kerry’s mind at ease. The self appointed - station sanctioned - minder, and jailor was just insignificant background noise another item of outlandish furniture that helped make up the scene.
Kerry was on what might be termed a Limited Bond. By paying for her own prison officer she was allowed to move freely around the station. The alternative was confinement to the brig. This was a mercenary Teladi protocol; one the Pirates here had adapted for their particular purposes. Piratical Paranid were in many ways a breed apart. Kerry didn’t have the credits to pay off her full-incurred debt (medical fees, docking bay damage, and supposed stored goods spoilage) not to mention the heavy dues of death and injury - The Pirate Blood Price! However for the moment she could delay the inevitable consequences of her impending predicament!
Somehow Kerry needed to access her brother’s credit balance. The remote credit transfer facility had become lost to K (once again) with the destruction of Jorac’s ship. The obliterated Pirate Nova Raider had contained all the remote keys she needed, and (more importantly) had accepted Jorac’s sister’s biometrics, unlike the sealed credit chip recovered from the headless corpse the loss of the PNR was a disaster. Kerry possessed a few emergency one-use credit keys of her own but they were hardly enough. Most of her assets including her own ship ‘The Merry’ a Teladi Falcon Hauler that Jorac - hardly ever let her use without a minder - had been on ‘Freedom Station’ when whatever (Boron instigated?) disaster that had happened there had occurred! Kerry couldn’t help wondering what else could go wrong?
Now Kerry’s own funds were all but expended especially with the exorbitant cost of the hired guard’s rate. The Anarchy port was slowly it appeared at times purposely tapping the Devils kin dry. This opportunity for employment was too good to miss. It was just unfortunate that the Argon had insensitively chosen the ‘Bone Garden’ as their place to meet. This locale had very nearly put Kerry off despite her immediate perils. The troubled female Argon had at least considered asking for another venue, in the end paranoia won out over trepidation, the fear of spoiling the unconfirmed deal by refusing the venue defeated K’s personal feelings. Kerry forced herself to quickly agree to the proposed site before - she suffered - a change of heart.
When the (smuggling) business Argon finally arrived Kerry turned off her - unusually - serene music. The male Argon was unremarkable in every respect. In aspect, and dress he just looked like an average citizen. Average height, average build, bland features, and a standard station suit in shades of grey. He even carried a particularly generic Argon computer pad not too modern not too atavistic. Even painted by the bases crimson light he was a grey man for a grey business!
He introduced himself, “Jon Flyn,” he said reaching out a hand, “sorry to hear of your losses. I hope you have recovered from your ah… accident!” Jon gave the hovering Paranid minder a nervous glance, “I see you brought protection very wise.”
“Please take a seat,” Kerry said ignoring his proffered paw at this stage.
K noticed how the Argon’s eyes hung on her damaged face with its angled bandanna and multiple livid scars. As Jon sunk to the seat opposite Kerry suffered an involuntary shudder, and felt her heart thumping. Recollections of her earlier meet with Jorac replayed in the back of her mind, running like a looped broken visual download.
Kerry had purposely taken an alcove far removed from the one of the incident, but it looked all too familiar! K felt more than a little unnerved, and was finding it difficult to concentrate on the matter at hand. As if a child again - afraid of shadows, and the dark - Kerry wanted to jump up, and run screaming to a more healthy light, and the solace of long gone parents, to sob in comforting arms! Kerry missed her Guardian Angel!
“Thank you, thank you, will the bar staff be upset if I don’t order anything?” Jon asked dragging Kerry back from an abyss.
“Pardon… oh drinks, you can tip them on the way out if you like,” said Kerry fighting to keep control, “people who just like to meet here occasionally do that. It keeps them sweet.”
“How practical,” said the grey Argon, “my, this base runs with all the mercantile efficiency of a Teladi trade station. I must say I am most surprised. This was my first visit, my stay was to be a brief one, unfortunately my pilot appears to have got himself into a little bit of bother with the locals. Between you and me the station security are not very good at investigation work. All I got was no progress made so far, and you can file for a blood suit whatever that is!”
“Every pirate has a body price among their own,” explained Kerry, “if you kill one outside a duel you have to pay his nearest or dearest or his employer a price in compensation.”
“You mean you can butcher somebody, and get away with it if you pay his relatives off?” said Jon in shock, “that seems a little bit worrying.”
“Oh you normally need to have at least a smattering of a reason. Just running about killing crew would get you a very bad reputation, and or an exit - unsuited - out an airlock!” Kerry explained with a dry flat lecturing tone.
“Well there goes my assumption about local fiscal enlightenment - unexpected Pirate sophistication!” returned Jon.
“Just think of it as incidental colour,” Kerry said attempting a poor smile, “but you didn’t come here to discuss the horrors of culture shock!”
“Of course not, to business, after my pilot disappeared I found myself in bit of a quandary. Here I am with a discreet cargo, a vessel, a tight deadline but no pilot. I don’t trust the automatic one,” Jon continued, “especially not on an irregular trip like this!”
“You said this cargo is discreet?” questioned Kerry.
“Sealed Units, no questions asked. They will even hold up to a scan (don’t ask) but not a boarding inspection,” Jon replied.
“What about your destination?” Kerry asked.
“Let’s just say it is within Federal Argon space and no more than five sectors away!” Jon stated evasively, “You understand need to know, and all that!”
“Sounds doable, but as you have been told, I too am a little stranded,” Kerry confessed.
“Indeed the authorities told me about your - difficulties - I believe I have a solution it is not perfect but it will work,” Jon explained, “Basically I will pay off your fines. By taking my mission I can recoup some of this extravagant cost from your wages. After you have dropped off my - time critical - cargo both of us can travel direct to one of your credit sources in person (he it she) can verify the validity of your claim. You can then pay me the balance you owe having accessed your funds. I can hire a new pilot and we can go about our various separate businesses win, win!”
“You are willing to undergo all that to deliver your cargo on time?” asked Kerry feeling a little natural suspicion.
“It is just inconvenience. You have no idea how many credits I will gain through this deal? Nor how much I will lose if it fails? More importantly I have made promises - given my word - my oath, in my business reputation is every thing! If I fail to deliver rumour will get out, and my other customers will start getting nervous. It is a slippery slope my dear lady,” Jon explained, “of course if you do a good job, and need further employment we could continue the association even longer. However, I gathered you might have other plans given your ah… kinsman’s reputation. Nor do I really need the attention afforded by association with your clan. Ours would be a short marriage of convenience you understand!”
“Doesn’t that bother you?” asked Kerry feeling now that she more or less had the contract a little bit paranoid with its easy facility.
“Hiring a Pirate you mean to carry an expensive covert cargo, who better? The Pirates here have agreed for a fee to record our bond. A lack of faith with me will be a lack of faith with them. I must say it is all very barbarous the way they explained it, but I imagine quite effective. It is not the underworld I am worried about,” Jon noted.
“Well you seem to have looked into all aspects of the hire,” Kerry said.
“In my business it pays to be thorough, and plan well,” the smuggler replied, “but one must still be flexible when faced with unexpected consequences.”
“Alright Flyn looks like you have a deal,” Kerry spat into her palm and reached out.
Flyn grimaced at the dirty handshake but accepted the clasp anyway, “I’ll get on the arrangements immediately can you let me have a secure link address.”
“Certainly,” said Kerry.
Taking out her computer pad Kerry extended a data cord making an especially secure direct physical link. The connection allowed them both to almost instantly exchange their secure address data.
“Perfect I will be in touch,” said the grey Argon.
Kerry found herself almost holding her breath. She half expected the Argon’s head to erupt over her body as he got up to move away. However he simply slid out dropped a tip at the bar, and left with a friendly backwards wave.
“Looks like Argon female is lucky,” growled Kerry’s guard, “no go Split Mines after all.”
“So it would seem,” replied Kerry still feeling a bit panicky and out of sorts. Getting quickly up Kerry fiddled behind her ear turning her soothing music back on. Kerry then rushed out of ‘The Bone Garden’ as fast as she could walk as if being trailed by a hoard of shuffling Demons!
In the corridor she sighed perhaps her luck was finally changing. Kelly hoped she would never see this place again not the ‘Bone Garden’ or the Anarchy Port. The sooner she was blasting off the better. Clearly her life could only get better the idea that she had as yet not hit bottom was unthinkable. It would be a hard climb but she would make it. With access to the last of her brothers more easily accessed funds Kerry could get a new eye, a new ship, and flit to some quiet place for some proper rest and recovery.
In the interim Kerry would be careful, thorough, no harm in doing a little double-checking. Downloading the electronic spy ware with her secure link address had been a risk she had almost not taken. However, too many bad things had happened recently. Kerry was unwilling to take anything on face value any more. All she needed now was another excuse to reconnect to the smugglers pad to download the hidden collected data. In the mean time she would look into Jon’s - hard luck - pilot story!
“Argon pilot go missing,” stated the Paranid at the ports CAO security station, “no see, no find. We look no on station, no on ships. Maybe it go out for little walk,” it laughed.
“Sure,” said Kerry, “what about your surveillance logs?”
“You pay we look. Otherwise too busy many, many things happen here. Argon come Argon go. We try, and ignore - they stupid - always kill selves,” stated the creature, “station have many Argon ghosts.”
“Really?” questioned Kerry, “I pay you plenty already, why want so many credits?”
“Silly Argon, know nothing? More credits - more bigger - big tally soon, changes posted! Many credits rule whole Anarchy Port. Few credits laughed at, pushed aside. Paranid no like mockery grovelling! Paranid like respect, get credits stand tall make others bow low. Pirate Paranid outcast: no longer have religion, no longer have service to Priest Emperor, only have credits only have pride!” it said slouching lower with each statement until its three eyes fixated upon her one it was a hard stare to take!
Well that explained a lot but didn’t really help Kerry with her questions, “Let Argon look at record herself?” Kelly asked refusing to be intimidated.
The Paranid rose (tall and threatening) and once more growled out a reply waving its arms about, “You pay, you look. You pay, or you go - Now!” it gestured out the door with one pointing limb, “Don’t waste superior Paranid’s time,” its voice box bellowed.
Thinking about the likely price Kerry replied, “I go,” turned and commenced to stomp out.
“Stupid inferior Argon pest - you ever come back - better have more credits, many less words!” its box warned, “you best go with other Argon male soon - for own good!”
Pirate Paranid thought Kerry they certainly know how to squeeze the credits out of their visitors! Kerry wondered how many Argon disappeared here maybe they were being robbed, and spaced by the locals. Still it was unlikely they were responsible for killing her brother - unless they had been paid by somebody else.
Kerry doubted they would have blown the valuable ship up either especially since they had already tried to seize it. If Kerry understood the monster right they were about to have some kind of election. A competition in which wealth would determine their future position within their hierarchy; wasting a profitable asset like a Nova Raider would be tantamount to blowing a well filled credit key out an airlock!
Still robbery could easily explain the disappearance of Jon’s pilot. The Paranid didn’t seem to care much about the welfare of non-Paranid on the station. Even the death of Kerry’s brother’s an Argon with whom these Paranid had long dealings seemed of no real import to the monsters. They cared only about potential Blood Price Suits, and recouping the cost of damages / clean ups.
Kelly had considered trying to get a Blood Price out of the station for Jorac, but she was convinced the beasts would give her the run around. They were in no mood to part with credits only to farm more. It would seem Paranid Anarchy Ports were very dangerous spaces for members of other species. Well the latest monster was right about one thing; it was time for her to go. Still shadowed by her own hulking pet Kelly gave up, unhooked her pad, and sent Flyn a query on his arrangements for a departure time.
Flyn chortling inwardly as he ran his implant - cortical brain interface - the cheek of the Pirate. The idea of their respective spying software packets exchanging places filled him with jovial mirth. Kerry had no idea who she was dealing with! He had been running scams when she was still being pressed to her mother’s milky breast. Flyn hoped that (belatedly) deciding to keep Kerry alive wouldn’t prove too much of an added hassle, Already he had been forced to arrange an unscheduled side trip home. Still Kerry was a find the female was luckier, and unluckier than she knew. Flyn had come to believe luck was a virtue - always a skilful planner - he nonetheless also shamelessly rode his luck!
Arke hadn’t been happy to go into suspension in the Non Crate either, but needs must. Flyn didn’t much care for loose ends - besides - Arke should have finished the job properly. A single remote shell was just being too clever the Fekker just wanted to play with the new toy. Then he had gone all overly primitive with a limpet, and a too devious activation hack and botched that one too! Lastly Arke had done the bomb stunt - all on his lonesome - as if he had something to prove. All Arke had demonstrated was the fact that he had seriously skewed his perspective, ignored the fact that he was part of a professional unit, and not an operative with a sidekick. They were not a couple of impulsive self-ingratiating amateurs out for a destructive giggle! Still in a way it was his own fault for not watching the old fekker closer.
Maybe thought Flyn he would just dump the crate out in space. Forcibly retire the creaky old cretin before he did something really stupid. Still if they found out it would be the short walk. Well Flyn mused he also believed restraint was good for the soul! The annoying thing was their superiors wouldn’t really give a curse as long as the job was done. However sloppiness was dangerous, and it annoyed Flyn, he didn’t expect to live forever but even this uncertain life - of constant danger - had its compensations.
Musing on the cycle’s work he had to smile again the ‘Bone Garden’ even for Pirates, Paranid, had some strange tastes in décor. He imagined a load of old bones plastered all over somewhere like the briefing room; at first amused then he turned grim. In the end such a scheme would have been far too appropriate and unsettling!
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 29 – A Pilot light
Trapped in Priests Pity Kerry was waiting rather nervously in the red light washed ‘Bone Garden’. The Space Fuel Dens name, and décor was now a double mockery of K’s worst nightmares. This was the last place on the Paranid Anarchy Port that she wanted to be. The sister of the infamous now deceased Pirate Jorac hardly felt secure. Not even the hovering protection of a Paranid Guard could put Kerry’s mind at ease. The self appointed - station sanctioned - minder, and jailor was just insignificant background noise another item of outlandish furniture that helped make up the scene.
Kerry was on what might be termed a Limited Bond. By paying for her own prison officer she was allowed to move freely around the station. The alternative was confinement to the brig. This was a mercenary Teladi protocol; one the Pirates here had adapted for their particular purposes. Piratical Paranid were in many ways a breed apart. Kerry didn’t have the credits to pay off her full-incurred debt (medical fees, docking bay damage, and supposed stored goods spoilage) not to mention the heavy dues of death and injury - The Pirate Blood Price! However for the moment she could delay the inevitable consequences of her impending predicament!
Somehow Kerry needed to access her brother’s credit balance. The remote credit transfer facility had become lost to K (once again) with the destruction of Jorac’s ship. The obliterated Pirate Nova Raider had contained all the remote keys she needed, and (more importantly) had accepted Jorac’s sister’s biometrics, unlike the sealed credit chip recovered from the headless corpse the loss of the PNR was a disaster. Kerry possessed a few emergency one-use credit keys of her own but they were hardly enough. Most of her assets including her own ship ‘The Merry’ a Teladi Falcon Hauler that Jorac - hardly ever let her use without a minder - had been on ‘Freedom Station’ when whatever (Boron instigated?) disaster that had happened there had occurred! Kerry couldn’t help wondering what else could go wrong?
Now Kerry’s own funds were all but expended especially with the exorbitant cost of the hired guard’s rate. The Anarchy port was slowly it appeared at times purposely tapping the Devils kin dry. This opportunity for employment was too good to miss. It was just unfortunate that the Argon had insensitively chosen the ‘Bone Garden’ as their place to meet. This locale had very nearly put Kerry off despite her immediate perils. The troubled female Argon had at least considered asking for another venue, in the end paranoia won out over trepidation, the fear of spoiling the unconfirmed deal by refusing the venue defeated K’s personal feelings. Kerry forced herself to quickly agree to the proposed site before - she suffered - a change of heart.
When the (smuggling) business Argon finally arrived Kerry turned off her - unusually - serene music. The male Argon was unremarkable in every respect. In aspect, and dress he just looked like an average citizen. Average height, average build, bland features, and a standard station suit in shades of grey. He even carried a particularly generic Argon computer pad not too modern not too atavistic. Even painted by the bases crimson light he was a grey man for a grey business!
He introduced himself, “Jon Flyn,” he said reaching out a hand, “sorry to hear of your losses. I hope you have recovered from your ah… accident!” Jon gave the hovering Paranid minder a nervous glance, “I see you brought protection very wise.”
“Please take a seat,” Kerry said ignoring his proffered paw at this stage.
K noticed how the Argon’s eyes hung on her damaged face with its angled bandanna and multiple livid scars. As Jon sunk to the seat opposite Kerry suffered an involuntary shudder, and felt her heart thumping. Recollections of her earlier meet with Jorac replayed in the back of her mind, running like a looped broken visual download.
Kerry had purposely taken an alcove far removed from the one of the incident, but it looked all too familiar! K felt more than a little unnerved, and was finding it difficult to concentrate on the matter at hand. As if a child again - afraid of shadows, and the dark - Kerry wanted to jump up, and run screaming to a more healthy light, and the solace of long gone parents, to sob in comforting arms! Kerry missed her Guardian Angel!
“Thank you, thank you, will the bar staff be upset if I don’t order anything?” Jon asked dragging Kerry back from an abyss.
“Pardon… oh drinks, you can tip them on the way out if you like,” said Kerry fighting to keep control, “people who just like to meet here occasionally do that. It keeps them sweet.”
“How practical,” said the grey Argon, “my, this base runs with all the mercantile efficiency of a Teladi trade station. I must say I am most surprised. This was my first visit, my stay was to be a brief one, unfortunately my pilot appears to have got himself into a little bit of bother with the locals. Between you and me the station security are not very good at investigation work. All I got was no progress made so far, and you can file for a blood suit whatever that is!”
“Every pirate has a body price among their own,” explained Kerry, “if you kill one outside a duel you have to pay his nearest or dearest or his employer a price in compensation.”
“You mean you can butcher somebody, and get away with it if you pay his relatives off?” said Jon in shock, “that seems a little bit worrying.”
“Oh you normally need to have at least a smattering of a reason. Just running about killing crew would get you a very bad reputation, and or an exit - unsuited - out an airlock!” Kerry explained with a dry flat lecturing tone.
“Well there goes my assumption about local fiscal enlightenment - unexpected Pirate sophistication!” returned Jon.
“Just think of it as incidental colour,” Kerry said attempting a poor smile, “but you didn’t come here to discuss the horrors of culture shock!”
“Of course not, to business, after my pilot disappeared I found myself in bit of a quandary. Here I am with a discreet cargo, a vessel, a tight deadline but no pilot. I don’t trust the automatic one,” Jon continued, “especially not on an irregular trip like this!”
“You said this cargo is discreet?” questioned Kerry.
“Sealed Units, no questions asked. They will even hold up to a scan (don’t ask) but not a boarding inspection,” Jon replied.
“What about your destination?” Kerry asked.
“Let’s just say it is within Federal Argon space and no more than five sectors away!” Jon stated evasively, “You understand need to know, and all that!”
“Sounds doable, but as you have been told, I too am a little stranded,” Kerry confessed.
“Indeed the authorities told me about your - difficulties - I believe I have a solution it is not perfect but it will work,” Jon explained, “Basically I will pay off your fines. By taking my mission I can recoup some of this extravagant cost from your wages. After you have dropped off my - time critical - cargo both of us can travel direct to one of your credit sources in person (he it she) can verify the validity of your claim. You can then pay me the balance you owe having accessed your funds. I can hire a new pilot and we can go about our various separate businesses win, win!”
“You are willing to undergo all that to deliver your cargo on time?” asked Kerry feeling a little natural suspicion.
“It is just inconvenience. You have no idea how many credits I will gain through this deal? Nor how much I will lose if it fails? More importantly I have made promises - given my word - my oath, in my business reputation is every thing! If I fail to deliver rumour will get out, and my other customers will start getting nervous. It is a slippery slope my dear lady,” Jon explained, “of course if you do a good job, and need further employment we could continue the association even longer. However, I gathered you might have other plans given your ah… kinsman’s reputation. Nor do I really need the attention afforded by association with your clan. Ours would be a short marriage of convenience you understand!”
“Doesn’t that bother you?” asked Kerry feeling now that she more or less had the contract a little bit paranoid with its easy facility.
“Hiring a Pirate you mean to carry an expensive covert cargo, who better? The Pirates here have agreed for a fee to record our bond. A lack of faith with me will be a lack of faith with them. I must say it is all very barbarous the way they explained it, but I imagine quite effective. It is not the underworld I am worried about,” Jon noted.
“Well you seem to have looked into all aspects of the hire,” Kerry said.
“In my business it pays to be thorough, and plan well,” the smuggler replied, “but one must still be flexible when faced with unexpected consequences.”
“Alright Flyn looks like you have a deal,” Kerry spat into her palm and reached out.
Flyn grimaced at the dirty handshake but accepted the clasp anyway, “I’ll get on the arrangements immediately can you let me have a secure link address.”
“Certainly,” said Kerry.
Taking out her computer pad Kerry extended a data cord making an especially secure direct physical link. The connection allowed them both to almost instantly exchange their secure address data.
“Perfect I will be in touch,” said the grey Argon.
Kerry found herself almost holding her breath. She half expected the Argon’s head to erupt over her body as he got up to move away. However he simply slid out dropped a tip at the bar, and left with a friendly backwards wave.
“Looks like Argon female is lucky,” growled Kerry’s guard, “no go Split Mines after all.”
“So it would seem,” replied Kerry still feeling a bit panicky and out of sorts. Getting quickly up Kerry fiddled behind her ear turning her soothing music back on. Kerry then rushed out of ‘The Bone Garden’ as fast as she could walk as if being trailed by a hoard of shuffling Demons!
In the corridor she sighed perhaps her luck was finally changing. Kelly hoped she would never see this place again not the ‘Bone Garden’ or the Anarchy Port. The sooner she was blasting off the better. Clearly her life could only get better the idea that she had as yet not hit bottom was unthinkable. It would be a hard climb but she would make it. With access to the last of her brothers more easily accessed funds Kerry could get a new eye, a new ship, and flit to some quiet place for some proper rest and recovery.
In the interim Kerry would be careful, thorough, no harm in doing a little double-checking. Downloading the electronic spy ware with her secure link address had been a risk she had almost not taken. However, too many bad things had happened recently. Kerry was unwilling to take anything on face value any more. All she needed now was another excuse to reconnect to the smugglers pad to download the hidden collected data. In the mean time she would look into Jon’s - hard luck - pilot story!
“Argon pilot go missing,” stated the Paranid at the ports CAO security station, “no see, no find. We look no on station, no on ships. Maybe it go out for little walk,” it laughed.
“Sure,” said Kerry, “what about your surveillance logs?”
“You pay we look. Otherwise too busy many, many things happen here. Argon come Argon go. We try, and ignore - they stupid - always kill selves,” stated the creature, “station have many Argon ghosts.”
“Really?” questioned Kerry, “I pay you plenty already, why want so many credits?”
“Silly Argon, know nothing? More credits - more bigger - big tally soon, changes posted! Many credits rule whole Anarchy Port. Few credits laughed at, pushed aside. Paranid no like mockery grovelling! Paranid like respect, get credits stand tall make others bow low. Pirate Paranid outcast: no longer have religion, no longer have service to Priest Emperor, only have credits only have pride!” it said slouching lower with each statement until its three eyes fixated upon her one it was a hard stare to take!
Well that explained a lot but didn’t really help Kerry with her questions, “Let Argon look at record herself?” Kelly asked refusing to be intimidated.
The Paranid rose (tall and threatening) and once more growled out a reply waving its arms about, “You pay, you look. You pay, or you go - Now!” it gestured out the door with one pointing limb, “Don’t waste superior Paranid’s time,” its voice box bellowed.
Thinking about the likely price Kerry replied, “I go,” turned and commenced to stomp out.
“Stupid inferior Argon pest - you ever come back - better have more credits, many less words!” its box warned, “you best go with other Argon male soon - for own good!”
Pirate Paranid thought Kerry they certainly know how to squeeze the credits out of their visitors! Kerry wondered how many Argon disappeared here maybe they were being robbed, and spaced by the locals. Still it was unlikely they were responsible for killing her brother - unless they had been paid by somebody else.
Kerry doubted they would have blown the valuable ship up either especially since they had already tried to seize it. If Kerry understood the monster right they were about to have some kind of election. A competition in which wealth would determine their future position within their hierarchy; wasting a profitable asset like a Nova Raider would be tantamount to blowing a well filled credit key out an airlock!
Still robbery could easily explain the disappearance of Jon’s pilot. The Paranid didn’t seem to care much about the welfare of non-Paranid on the station. Even the death of Kerry’s brother’s an Argon with whom these Paranid had long dealings seemed of no real import to the monsters. They cared only about potential Blood Price Suits, and recouping the cost of damages / clean ups.
Kelly had considered trying to get a Blood Price out of the station for Jorac, but she was convinced the beasts would give her the run around. They were in no mood to part with credits only to farm more. It would seem Paranid Anarchy Ports were very dangerous spaces for members of other species. Well the latest monster was right about one thing; it was time for her to go. Still shadowed by her own hulking pet Kelly gave up, unhooked her pad, and sent Flyn a query on his arrangements for a departure time.
Flyn chortling inwardly as he ran his implant - cortical brain interface - the cheek of the Pirate. The idea of their respective spying software packets exchanging places filled him with jovial mirth. Kerry had no idea who she was dealing with! He had been running scams when she was still being pressed to her mother’s milky breast. Flyn hoped that (belatedly) deciding to keep Kerry alive wouldn’t prove too much of an added hassle, Already he had been forced to arrange an unscheduled side trip home. Still Kerry was a find the female was luckier, and unluckier than she knew. Flyn had come to believe luck was a virtue - always a skilful planner - he nonetheless also shamelessly rode his luck!
Arke hadn’t been happy to go into suspension in the Non Crate either, but needs must. Flyn didn’t much care for loose ends - besides - Arke should have finished the job properly. A single remote shell was just being too clever the Fekker just wanted to play with the new toy. Then he had gone all overly primitive with a limpet, and a too devious activation hack and botched that one too! Lastly Arke had done the bomb stunt - all on his lonesome - as if he had something to prove. All Arke had demonstrated was the fact that he had seriously skewed his perspective, ignored the fact that he was part of a professional unit, and not an operative with a sidekick. They were not a couple of impulsive self-ingratiating amateurs out for a destructive giggle! Still in a way it was his own fault for not watching the old fekker closer.
Maybe thought Flyn he would just dump the crate out in space. Forcibly retire the creaky old cretin before he did something really stupid. Still if they found out it would be the short walk. Well Flyn mused he also believed restraint was good for the soul! The annoying thing was their superiors wouldn’t really give a curse as long as the job was done. However sloppiness was dangerous, and it annoyed Flyn, he didn’t expect to live forever but even this uncertain life - of constant danger - had its compensations.
Musing on the cycle’s work he had to smile again the ‘Bone Garden’ even for Pirates, Paranid, had some strange tastes in décor. He imagined a load of old bones plastered all over somewhere like the briefing room; at first amused then he turned grim. In the end such a scheme would have been far too appropriate and unsettling!
Last edited by Paranoid66 on Sun, 20. Apr 08, 14:31, edited 2 times in total.
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Paranoid66
- Posts: 4643
- Joined: Tue, 19. Apr 05, 10:59
chapter 30
Reapers Passage
X3 Fan fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 30 – The Best Laid Plans
“Kerry, Kerry wait,” screamed out a voice from across the bay.
Kerry turned to see a figure rushing towards her waving. Fumbling Kerry managed to haul out Jorac’s ungainly slug thrower and point it two handed.
“Hold, or I’ll put you down,” shouted the female Argon, and she meant it.
The stranger Kerry was aiming her gun at halted, and put his arms up as if in surrender.
“Kerry it’s me, it’s Tur didn’t you get my message, damn useless Paranid butt wipe worm kissing, tri eyed, fire eaters!”
“Tur,” K replied.
Kerry nonetheless still held up the slightly shaking weapon. The laser painter’s projected dot danced erratically over the Argons body the gun really was outsize for her able control.
“Tur Ryn?” Kerry asked hardly believing it could be the young Fallen Angel.
“None other, say would you point that cannon somewhere else. Can I put my hands down, I surrender,” Tur said smirking.
“Tur by all the angry Gods it is good to see you,” replied the girl fumbled with holstering the bulky weapon before rushing across the separating distance to leap in to the Fallen Angels arms.
“I’m sorry,” Tur said stroking the back of Kerry’s head, “I came as soon as I heard about your brother. Myself along with the lads, I had been off recruiting have just jumped in.”
Being held Kerry fell apart, and started shaking leaking tears she clung to the Pirate and found herself wailing like an infant.
“I was there,” said Kerry sobbing, “Parts of him are still embedded in my face. Nothing is ever going to be the same!”
Tur was shocked to discover he had to fight back tears himself, “whoever did this had better start running,” he promised darkly, “I want them to feel it coming slowly from behind like a gathering storm at their back!”
“Paranidia Tur,” Kerry said groaning, “if only you had arrived a few cycles ago, I needed some credits. I had to take a job, and I can’t break the contract now. I have to go,” K gestured towards the departure clamp GTD area.
“Kerry we need to talk its family business about the Angels. Can’t your client wait?” Tur asked.
“I don’t think so, my employer is on a tight schedule,” Kerry explained.
“Ok then, well just follow along behind. Pick you up when the jobs done,” Tur explained.
“I don’t know Tur my client is a bit hush, hush I don’t think he wants or needs that kind of attention,” Kerry told him, “I’m running late already.”
“Look I’ll jump into ‘The Vendetta’ meet you out there. I’ll have a word with this joker over a sealed comm channel see what can be figured out”, explained Tur, “If this Argon has any sense he won’t press us too hard. Kerry we have come a long way with some serious intent no fekker is going to stonewall us now! Talk to you in a bit.”
Letting Kerry go Tur turned, and raced for his Nova, “to the stars,” he called back.
Wiping her face with her right hand Kerry laughed - Tur was always so dramatic and enthusiastic – then she winced with the pain from her wounds; the stinging agitation from her eye. More shots were needed but first things first. It was past time for her to Transport to Flyn’s Caiman small transport ship the ‘Red Slip’.
“Ah glad to see you could make it,” said Jon more than a little sarcastically.
“Sorry a few last minute complications. I’ll just run a system check then we can be on our way. Well once I have a destination?” Kerry queried.
“One thing at a time just unhook us and take us out please,” Jon ordered briskly.
“Be delighted. By the way somebody wants to talk to you,” Kerry stated as she undocked and commenced manoeuvring away.
“Really,” said Jon he didn’t like the sound of that. He noticed several combat ships converging on their position via the Gravidar scanner, “friends of yours?” he asked.
“Late arriving associates,” Kerry noted with a genuine smile.
This was bad, time to ride his luck because his plan was looking all fekked up, thought Jon, “I did mention my cargo was discreet,” Flyn complained.
“We are being hailed on a tight secure beam,” said the ships computer.
“Open secure line,” Kerry, and Jon said in unison.
“Hello Kerry, hello Kerry’s employer. My name is Tur and this is my well-armed ship the Vendetta. I hope we are going to become fast friends because you really don’t want to be my enemy at the moment! Oh, by the way, the rest of this motley crew are with me too, you may have heard of us the Fallen Angels!”
“How can I be of assistance Mister Tur,” asked the smuggler a little too calmly.
“Just Tur will do, normally I would be asking you to drop your cargo, but today I’m in a generous mood. You are carrying something a lot more valuable to us than material. We want to ensure it arrives safely at a suitable destination so we plan to trip along,” Tur explained.
“I see that is a little inconvenient,” noted Jon, “my client would be most upset. He isn’t partial to unexpected guests - especially not hoards - at any time.”
“Then we have a jolly problem,” Tur explained, “because I for one am not letting Jorac’s sister out of my protective sight. So I would start thinking of a mutual compromise we can both agree to.”
“Compromise?” questioned Jon pulling a hidden weapon from behind Kerry, and pressing it to the side of her head, “is neither appropriate or required,” he finished with a smile.
Kerry felt something poke the side of her skull then heard Tur say, “That would be a small, but very efficient gun touching your temple young miss. Tell your friends to back off.”
“Tur did you hear that Jon Flyn has a gun to my head,” stated Kerry cursing her ill luck.
“You’ll regret this Flyn,” stated the Fallen Angel peeling off a bit.
“Sly, instigate jump to pre-arranged gate,” stated Flyn.
“Jump drive sequence initiated, jump drive charging ten percent…” continued the Computer.
“Kerry I’ll find you. Flyn I’ll find you too,” Tur promised with just as much feeling but something of a different emphasis.
"That I very much doubt! Strap yourself in girl were going home," Jon said.
Tur cursed a stream as the freighter vanished with a flash of energy. Had he caused that? Or had this perfidious client planned from the offset to abduct Kerry. Damn the fekker could be anywhere. Unless they were lucky, Flyn patched into his universe map and started running quickly through sectors covered by Fallen Angel Satellites.
“Got you, you devious smelly little worm dropping,” said Tur, he watched as the Caiman moved out of the Gate Grid, and vanished into deep space in Presidents End.
Well, thought the Fallen Angel anointed as Jorac’s successor, at least we have a place to start looking. Best let them get a head start before commencing a search. What was in Presidents End other than patrols, and Khaak? He wondered.
“Where are you taking me?” asked Kerry.
“Now Sly take us out of the grid system any co-ordinate will do I just want to go deep,” Jon explained, “Oh, and lock little miss out of the manual controls. Now this wont hurt at all,” noted Jon fumbling with his left hand to pull out an injector, “Just a little sleep we can chat later,” keeping the gun on Kerry the Argon injected her in the neck then stepped back.
“Coarse plotted manual system lock down initiated,” returned Sly.
Kerry barely had time to register the mosquito like sting before another darkness rudely claimed her awareness altogether.
“And then it went black,” laughed Jon, “guess I had best go wake up the old fool. Then he can at least help me haul the lass into the crate. No point taking any chances eh Sly.”
“Sly advises against risk taking unless absolutely required,” stated the AI mostly for its own amusement.
Just about what you would expect from that Navy AI, thought Jon, “Sly run the fuel injector until we have only just enough cells left for the final jump, and no space flies left in the scanner proof ‘No Hold’ then just keep going. We need to get lost for a while a few cycles in the black. That will also give me a chance to reboot our old signature, and IFF,” Jon continued.
Interesting that some of the Angels were still very much active and recruiting - fresh meat for the grinder? It would have been nice to take in the job lot, but that idea had too much potential for - overt and messy! Bit silly of the lad to draw attention to the fact that the person he was threatening, had the perfect hostage on board! The rash foolishness of youth never ceased to amuse, to be so innocent again! Still Jon wondered if he had made an error bringing Kerry along if the Devil rose again?
Later in Presidents End Tur cursed, apart from an unwanted skirmish with some idiot Argon Navy scouts, his band had so far drawn a total blank in that Sector. Maybe the sneaky little worm had jumped again. Unfortunately he simply couldn’t find his target in any of the visible sectors covered by the Angels network. Jon Flyn, and Kerry had vanished just like the - too confident - Argon had hinted he would.
He would have to go back to Priests Pity and see if he could shake anything loose from the Paranid. He didn’t like his chances. If anyone knew how to keep a secret it was the three eyed monster worms? Also the brutes gave him the creeps yuk!
“Urrrr,” groaned Arke before saying, “I hate that. Next time you can go in the box.”
“Next time? Next time perhaps you won’t go off half cocked,” replied Jon glaring.
“How was I to know she was the Pirates sister, and not just some contact?” Arke complained unhooking himself from the various feeds of the hibernation suit.
“Well if you had been listening to their cursed conversation instead of fiddling with that monster weapons overly complex remote control system,” complained Jon.
“Hell Flyn, what are you complaining about? It needed field testing anyway!” noted Arke.
“In the middle of a Paranid public area with a trillion witnesses,” rousted Flyn.
“Best place. Fekkers didn’t have a clue what hit them it was sweet,” enthused Arke.
“Arke how did a Pirate like you get so old while being so stupid, or did it come on you late and unexpected?” asked Flyn.
“Fekking listen to you. I’m not carting back an unsanctioned guest!” noted the old ex Pirate.
“I don’t think Jorac’s Sister will be entirely unwelcome. That Argon was a legend, and has a following she will be very useful,” stated Flyn.
“For a legend he sure died easy,” laughed Arke, “wham splat no more Devil!”
“Sometimes I think you enjoy your work too much,” challenged Flyn.
“An Argon is what he does,” stated Arke, “pity, she did have a pretty face before!”
“Maybe if you had used something a bit less explosive for a change she still would,” Jon replied shaking his head, “retaining two eyes would have been useful as well!”
“Not my fault,” said Arke defensively, “that was just bad luck, you can’t blame me for that? That was just ill fate that was! Not like I poked her eye out with a blade or something. Unexpected consequences,” he continued, “stuff happens!”
“Shut up, and help me get her into the suit, and no groping you sickie,” stated Flyn.
“Paranidia you really are a tight rump,” complained Arke, “I mean its not like she is one of us yet, and the slut isn’t even conscious!”
“Arke you have absolutely no honour, sometimes you make me want to puke!” stated Flyn.
“I spit on your honour,” hawked Arke, “you’re forgetting where you came from, and where you’re going. We got nothing but the moments. No harm in a bit of innocent play. Besides she won’t even know.”
“I’ll know just do as I tell you. The report is going to be damning enough as it is,” stated Flyn.
“One day you’ll push me too far youngster. The reason why I’m still alive is cause all my enemies is dead, stick that in your report,” noted Arke.
X3 Fan fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 30 – The Best Laid Plans
“Kerry, Kerry wait,” screamed out a voice from across the bay.
Kerry turned to see a figure rushing towards her waving. Fumbling Kerry managed to haul out Jorac’s ungainly slug thrower and point it two handed.
“Hold, or I’ll put you down,” shouted the female Argon, and she meant it.
The stranger Kerry was aiming her gun at halted, and put his arms up as if in surrender.
“Kerry it’s me, it’s Tur didn’t you get my message, damn useless Paranid butt wipe worm kissing, tri eyed, fire eaters!”
“Tur,” K replied.
Kerry nonetheless still held up the slightly shaking weapon. The laser painter’s projected dot danced erratically over the Argons body the gun really was outsize for her able control.
“Tur Ryn?” Kerry asked hardly believing it could be the young Fallen Angel.
“None other, say would you point that cannon somewhere else. Can I put my hands down, I surrender,” Tur said smirking.
“Tur by all the angry Gods it is good to see you,” replied the girl fumbled with holstering the bulky weapon before rushing across the separating distance to leap in to the Fallen Angels arms.
“I’m sorry,” Tur said stroking the back of Kerry’s head, “I came as soon as I heard about your brother. Myself along with the lads, I had been off recruiting have just jumped in.”
Being held Kerry fell apart, and started shaking leaking tears she clung to the Pirate and found herself wailing like an infant.
“I was there,” said Kerry sobbing, “Parts of him are still embedded in my face. Nothing is ever going to be the same!”
Tur was shocked to discover he had to fight back tears himself, “whoever did this had better start running,” he promised darkly, “I want them to feel it coming slowly from behind like a gathering storm at their back!”
“Paranidia Tur,” Kerry said groaning, “if only you had arrived a few cycles ago, I needed some credits. I had to take a job, and I can’t break the contract now. I have to go,” K gestured towards the departure clamp GTD area.
“Kerry we need to talk its family business about the Angels. Can’t your client wait?” Tur asked.
“I don’t think so, my employer is on a tight schedule,” Kerry explained.
“Ok then, well just follow along behind. Pick you up when the jobs done,” Tur explained.
“I don’t know Tur my client is a bit hush, hush I don’t think he wants or needs that kind of attention,” Kerry told him, “I’m running late already.”
“Look I’ll jump into ‘The Vendetta’ meet you out there. I’ll have a word with this joker over a sealed comm channel see what can be figured out”, explained Tur, “If this Argon has any sense he won’t press us too hard. Kerry we have come a long way with some serious intent no fekker is going to stonewall us now! Talk to you in a bit.”
Letting Kerry go Tur turned, and raced for his Nova, “to the stars,” he called back.
Wiping her face with her right hand Kerry laughed - Tur was always so dramatic and enthusiastic – then she winced with the pain from her wounds; the stinging agitation from her eye. More shots were needed but first things first. It was past time for her to Transport to Flyn’s Caiman small transport ship the ‘Red Slip’.
“Ah glad to see you could make it,” said Jon more than a little sarcastically.
“Sorry a few last minute complications. I’ll just run a system check then we can be on our way. Well once I have a destination?” Kerry queried.
“One thing at a time just unhook us and take us out please,” Jon ordered briskly.
“Be delighted. By the way somebody wants to talk to you,” Kerry stated as she undocked and commenced manoeuvring away.
“Really,” said Jon he didn’t like the sound of that. He noticed several combat ships converging on their position via the Gravidar scanner, “friends of yours?” he asked.
“Late arriving associates,” Kerry noted with a genuine smile.
This was bad, time to ride his luck because his plan was looking all fekked up, thought Jon, “I did mention my cargo was discreet,” Flyn complained.
“We are being hailed on a tight secure beam,” said the ships computer.
“Open secure line,” Kerry, and Jon said in unison.
“Hello Kerry, hello Kerry’s employer. My name is Tur and this is my well-armed ship the Vendetta. I hope we are going to become fast friends because you really don’t want to be my enemy at the moment! Oh, by the way, the rest of this motley crew are with me too, you may have heard of us the Fallen Angels!”
“How can I be of assistance Mister Tur,” asked the smuggler a little too calmly.
“Just Tur will do, normally I would be asking you to drop your cargo, but today I’m in a generous mood. You are carrying something a lot more valuable to us than material. We want to ensure it arrives safely at a suitable destination so we plan to trip along,” Tur explained.
“I see that is a little inconvenient,” noted Jon, “my client would be most upset. He isn’t partial to unexpected guests - especially not hoards - at any time.”
“Then we have a jolly problem,” Tur explained, “because I for one am not letting Jorac’s sister out of my protective sight. So I would start thinking of a mutual compromise we can both agree to.”
“Compromise?” questioned Jon pulling a hidden weapon from behind Kerry, and pressing it to the side of her head, “is neither appropriate or required,” he finished with a smile.
Kerry felt something poke the side of her skull then heard Tur say, “That would be a small, but very efficient gun touching your temple young miss. Tell your friends to back off.”
“Tur did you hear that Jon Flyn has a gun to my head,” stated Kerry cursing her ill luck.
“You’ll regret this Flyn,” stated the Fallen Angel peeling off a bit.
“Sly, instigate jump to pre-arranged gate,” stated Flyn.
“Jump drive sequence initiated, jump drive charging ten percent…” continued the Computer.
“Kerry I’ll find you. Flyn I’ll find you too,” Tur promised with just as much feeling but something of a different emphasis.
"That I very much doubt! Strap yourself in girl were going home," Jon said.
Tur cursed a stream as the freighter vanished with a flash of energy. Had he caused that? Or had this perfidious client planned from the offset to abduct Kerry. Damn the fekker could be anywhere. Unless they were lucky, Flyn patched into his universe map and started running quickly through sectors covered by Fallen Angel Satellites.
“Got you, you devious smelly little worm dropping,” said Tur, he watched as the Caiman moved out of the Gate Grid, and vanished into deep space in Presidents End.
Well, thought the Fallen Angel anointed as Jorac’s successor, at least we have a place to start looking. Best let them get a head start before commencing a search. What was in Presidents End other than patrols, and Khaak? He wondered.
“Where are you taking me?” asked Kerry.
“Now Sly take us out of the grid system any co-ordinate will do I just want to go deep,” Jon explained, “Oh, and lock little miss out of the manual controls. Now this wont hurt at all,” noted Jon fumbling with his left hand to pull out an injector, “Just a little sleep we can chat later,” keeping the gun on Kerry the Argon injected her in the neck then stepped back.
“Coarse plotted manual system lock down initiated,” returned Sly.
Kerry barely had time to register the mosquito like sting before another darkness rudely claimed her awareness altogether.
“And then it went black,” laughed Jon, “guess I had best go wake up the old fool. Then he can at least help me haul the lass into the crate. No point taking any chances eh Sly.”
“Sly advises against risk taking unless absolutely required,” stated the AI mostly for its own amusement.
Just about what you would expect from that Navy AI, thought Jon, “Sly run the fuel injector until we have only just enough cells left for the final jump, and no space flies left in the scanner proof ‘No Hold’ then just keep going. We need to get lost for a while a few cycles in the black. That will also give me a chance to reboot our old signature, and IFF,” Jon continued.
Interesting that some of the Angels were still very much active and recruiting - fresh meat for the grinder? It would have been nice to take in the job lot, but that idea had too much potential for - overt and messy! Bit silly of the lad to draw attention to the fact that the person he was threatening, had the perfect hostage on board! The rash foolishness of youth never ceased to amuse, to be so innocent again! Still Jon wondered if he had made an error bringing Kerry along if the Devil rose again?
Later in Presidents End Tur cursed, apart from an unwanted skirmish with some idiot Argon Navy scouts, his band had so far drawn a total blank in that Sector. Maybe the sneaky little worm had jumped again. Unfortunately he simply couldn’t find his target in any of the visible sectors covered by the Angels network. Jon Flyn, and Kerry had vanished just like the - too confident - Argon had hinted he would.
He would have to go back to Priests Pity and see if he could shake anything loose from the Paranid. He didn’t like his chances. If anyone knew how to keep a secret it was the three eyed monster worms? Also the brutes gave him the creeps yuk!
“Urrrr,” groaned Arke before saying, “I hate that. Next time you can go in the box.”
“Next time? Next time perhaps you won’t go off half cocked,” replied Jon glaring.
“How was I to know she was the Pirates sister, and not just some contact?” Arke complained unhooking himself from the various feeds of the hibernation suit.
“Well if you had been listening to their cursed conversation instead of fiddling with that monster weapons overly complex remote control system,” complained Jon.
“Hell Flyn, what are you complaining about? It needed field testing anyway!” noted Arke.
“In the middle of a Paranid public area with a trillion witnesses,” rousted Flyn.
“Best place. Fekkers didn’t have a clue what hit them it was sweet,” enthused Arke.
“Arke how did a Pirate like you get so old while being so stupid, or did it come on you late and unexpected?” asked Flyn.
“Fekking listen to you. I’m not carting back an unsanctioned guest!” noted the old ex Pirate.
“I don’t think Jorac’s Sister will be entirely unwelcome. That Argon was a legend, and has a following she will be very useful,” stated Flyn.
“For a legend he sure died easy,” laughed Arke, “wham splat no more Devil!”
“Sometimes I think you enjoy your work too much,” challenged Flyn.
“An Argon is what he does,” stated Arke, “pity, she did have a pretty face before!”
“Maybe if you had used something a bit less explosive for a change she still would,” Jon replied shaking his head, “retaining two eyes would have been useful as well!”
“Not my fault,” said Arke defensively, “that was just bad luck, you can’t blame me for that? That was just ill fate that was! Not like I poked her eye out with a blade or something. Unexpected consequences,” he continued, “stuff happens!”
“Shut up, and help me get her into the suit, and no groping you sickie,” stated Flyn.
“Paranidia you really are a tight rump,” complained Arke, “I mean its not like she is one of us yet, and the slut isn’t even conscious!”
“Arke you have absolutely no honour, sometimes you make me want to puke!” stated Flyn.
“I spit on your honour,” hawked Arke, “you’re forgetting where you came from, and where you’re going. We got nothing but the moments. No harm in a bit of innocent play. Besides she won’t even know.”
“I’ll know just do as I tell you. The report is going to be damning enough as it is,” stated Flyn.
“One day you’ll push me too far youngster. The reason why I’m still alive is cause all my enemies is dead, stick that in your report,” noted Arke.
Last edited by Paranoid66 on Sun, 20. Apr 08, 14:34, edited 3 times in total.
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Paranoid66
- Posts: 4643
- Joined: Tue, 19. Apr 05, 10:59
Reapers Passage
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 31 – The Best of a Bad Lot
In the Argon Sector of the Wall far off the Grid in the Fortress of the Damned Lesh was sometimes glad, at other times filled with horror, that the powers had kept her together with Teri. Lesh could do with the comfort of at least one familiar face, as obviously could Teri? It also meant Lesh got to avoid contact with the particular Green Monkey scum that had raped her friend. The loose partnership was hardly without its difficulties though, for a start every time Lesh looked at Teri she felt a stab of guilt. Lesh out of fear for herself had done nothing to defend her friend, and workmate!
At one point Lesh had almost convinced herself the woman had provoked the attack - it had been easier that way! Well Teri never used to know when to back down, but it was still a self serving lie. Lesh knew this deceit, and her inaction were just - symptoms of self preservation - but she didn’t have to like it! The other hard thing was Teri herself had changed.
The woman had gone from almost catatonic, and fragile in Freedom custody to seemingly fearful, remote, and uncommunicative on the Argon Colossus. Now Teri seemed like a canister that barely contained the internal pressure of hidden volatile emotions. Lesh used to understand empathise with Teri, now Lesh often felt she no longer understood what was going on behind her cold friends’ long stare! It was like looking at an alien creature inhabiting Teri’s corpse.
Lesh’s failure or lack of understanding created another distance between them igniting even more pangs of guilt! It was an emotional seesaw. Lesh felt good when she managed briefly almost covertly - on occasion - help her friend, bad when she miserably failed to raise the female’s morale once again! Teri for her part was utterly rigidly self-contained, and cold even aggressively dismissive of any obvious aid. Lesh had to be subtle in her approach, and self-rewarding. Lesh got little positive feedback for her efforts from her damaged associate.
Hardly fit for socialising as front-end staff they - now both - worked behind the scenes in the Fortresses officers’ mess. For wonder Lesh discovered a joy in preparing the food, this activity required a deep degree of concentration, could be exhausting, and was therefore perfect for killing off stray thoughts. It had shocked Lesh how well the Legion of the Damned Officers ate.
The station had its own hydroponics and even some livestock as well as vat grown substances that were synthesised, flavoured, and processed into various forms. Everything from artificial meat like solids to tasty soups, and stews were manufactured. Some of the work was even quite artistic (moulding and dressing the finished goods) and required a degree of skill, and flare. Food wise the Fortress was almost entirely self-sufficient. Lesh had heard the farms, and plants had to up production recently - due to the increase in population - but they had not topped their capacity by a long way.
Physically their new life had been much more comfortable than Lesh had imagined. They had a single shared cubicle not the expected mass billet. The psychological pressures were the devil not fleshy hardships, at least not for the moment. The enforced nature of their sentence was the curse - the denial of freedom, and true independence - Lesh acutely suffered from the failure of her old dreams, the permanent loss of her children. Sometimes with even more guilt Lesh believed she only stuck it out with Teri because it allowed her - in her head - to remain a surrogate mother.
Lesh looked across the clean but crowded shiny spaces to her friend Teri. Teri was busy peeling vegetables she seemed to prefer the more repetitive manual tasks. Even when there were machine aids - if a task could be done by hand - Teri would find that way. At first the head chef had tried to force the stubborn woman to use the devices uncharacteristically requesting, pleading then more naturally losing his temper shouting, and ranting! All Jobe’s efforts might as well have been directed at the bulkhead. Now he was content to let the woman do her own thing, and just worked around her eccentricity - making faces behind her back, and muttering curses!
Sometimes it was hard not to laugh at Jobe’s frustrations. He had wanted Teri removed from his realm but the powers refused him. Usually it was hard to imagine the man had ever been a Pirate, but if he lifted a knife in real anger – it was wise to back down. Only Teri had broken his complete regional dominance, not that she seemed to care! The male Argon was a tyrant but Lesh had worked with his demanding sort before.
“Stop day dreaming girl,” cursed the Head Chef, “those scallops had best be ready and right or there will be hell to pay.”
Lesh put her head down and returned to the task of filling the moulds. She wished Jobe would stop insisting on just calling her girl. It was always girl do this, girl do that, for fekking Paranidia’s sake girl do you remember nothing I showed you… nothing!!! Secretly Lesh prided herself on being a quick study, and she was sure Jobe thought so too, however, it would damage his pride to admit that any part of his work might be - easily - replicated by a mere novice!
As Teri skinned the vegetables she was thinking about how difficult it would be to steal a knife. At the end of the shift every blade had a specific home, and an inspection was made before the staff where permitted egress. Nonetheless, there had to be a way. It was frustrating - here she was surrounded by so many potential weapons - and yet she was still offence less.
Elsewhere on the Fortress Sab carefully hooked himself up to - and stuffed into – the still barely familiar powered armour, and vac suit. Triple checking everything twice. The zero G drills game him the creeps he liked space but not that much. Joining the rest of the Wolf, and Rat squads they shuffled into one massive airlock, and were cycled out into space. Amon burst over the Wolves closed com as the two groups separated.
“Right lads this should be fun you know the drill. Defend our beacon capture the Rats,” explained Amon.
“No simulated ire blasters today just glove slap. Get your paw on an enemy, and he is history, vice versa, and you are down. This is about speed, stealth, cover, manoeuvring, and teamwork. Winners get ten team tally points each, individual points are as follows: plus two for each personal kill, lose ten if you’re taken out, minus twenty if you damage your suit - I jest not! Listen lads losing is not an option, let’s go earn some privileges off those stinking rats.” Somehow Sab could hear one of Amon’s winks in the last comment!
Minus twenty for damaging the suit was what really stuck though. If you damaged the suit loss of incentives was the last thing you would be worrying about! Nonetheless, he knew they would all soon be skimming the asteroids surface like maniacs even entering the natural, and Argon made surface features the trenches shallow tunnels, and conduits. All for a few drinks some sports downloads, and maybe an opportunity for a tryst! They were all AN [Argon Navy] mercenary tarts now! Still it could be worse at least they had some of the best equipment he had ever seen, and their own as squad commanders.
“Ok,” Amon said, “here is the breakdown. Sab you’re advanced scout as usual. Make the most of that light extra fast rig you are wearing, and keep a constant report. I’m tactics, and rear guard defence. The rest of you wolves are troopers. I want a fast mobile all out offence. I’m pretty sure Bale will expect me to use a cautious hidden advance lets give - Rat Leader - a nasty surprise! Sab I want you to scout then distract off you go. Remember lads our chat is secure so keep yourselves, and myself clearly informed but - no colourful babble - right go, go, go!” communicated Amon, “Sab get down - keep it low - what do you see.”
“Nothing yet, looks clear I’m going into the rip it should take me right to the edge of enemy territory,” he explained.
“Careful lad it can get crowded in that trench. Don’t get hemmed in,” advised Amon.
“Trust me, I know what I’m doing. Paranidia, sorry new obstacle the sneaking fekker’s, I nearly had a collision! Holy, what the… wait there is something down here far up ahead Amon, I can see what the, movement lots of movement, Paranidia I have multiply traces. Amon, fek, it’s not the rats. I have incoming hostiles, repeat hostiles this is not a drill I’m strafing ou sctrrreechhhh.”
“Sab report over, Sab report over, what the fek was that! Squad pull back. I repeat pull back, back to the airlock,” stated Amon turning to a wider broadcast including the Rats Amon shouted, “Exercise aborted, we have real EVA hostiles this is not a drill pull your lads out Bale, I repeat Exercise Aborted we have hostile contact, this is not a drill! Bale, are you reading me over,” silence followed.
Shifting channel Amon linked into the fortress, “Fortress this is Wolf Leader undertaking Operation Exit Green. Exercise Aborted we have hostile targets this is not a drill, we have unknown EVA hostiles repeat this is not a drill. We are Exit Green [on exercise now aborted] unarmed and undergoing a hot forced tactical retreat. Advice and assistance requested, over.”
“Exit Green this is Ops. One, Quick Reaction Surface Support units being dispatched eta tactical visual timer set to your HUD. Fighters will launch in support visual timer set. Your positions are tagged what is the Rat Squads condition. We have no Rat trace, repeat zero Rat sign on our monitors. We were about to call in tech support!”
“Rat Squad status unknown suspect KIA. My scout is MIA we have multiple incoming. I’m picking up targets now approaching fast,” Amon stared through the red blue countdown lines till the reinforcements arrived. It was quick, damn quick but it was still going to be too late, “the last of my boys have just gone past I’m following now, but they are right on top of us,” Spinning around Amon flew backwards to get a visual, “Targets acquired, I can see them They are spider like but with gossamer looking wing like structures protruding from their backs - glinting with what looks like energy collectors. They are scampering and flitting across the surface. They looked mechanical, we’re not going to make it to the lock in time.”
“I think they are surface infiltrators boarders. I’m aborting station entry and going deep into the dark,” changing channels Amon could hear the panicked heavy breathing and shouted queries among his own pack, “Wolf Squad this is Wolf Leader abort previous order follow me.”
Amon launched himself into space rocketing away from the station on full thrust; his unarmed team also jetting propulsion immediately followed him. Under them the unknown contacts swarmed past like a hoard of angry ants. Whatever they were they didn’t follow into the night.
“Amon what the hell is going on?” asked one of the Wolves.
“Stick to radio procedure lad this isn’t a party over,” stated Amon, “lets see what is going on everyone turn, and set your recorders,” Amon noticed his visual countdown hit zero for the QRSS [quick reaction surface squad], and suddenly Legion where erupting onto the scene from a series of hidden airlocks that shot open. A fire fight ensued the first creatures were taken by surprise at range then all hell broke lose as the aliens opened up with their own weapons, and it became a free for all.
Amon turned off his communicator, and cursed, “Fekking credit grabbing daughters of a Teladi tart,” he spat belatedly realising he had been suckered the whole thing was a drill.
The alien (drone?) fire was soft just light trace. Scout ships raced in, and pounded the enemy with more simulated fire, and eventually the outbreak was contained with some simulated casualties. Amon, and his men were still spluttering curses when they got the recall signal for a training mission debriefing!
Sometime later at a debriefing session Amon found he had done well.
“Congratulations Squad Leader, Outstanding, you saved your entire squad - except for the scout, who never had much of a chance - and even thought to collect intelligence data! You also kept a clear head - good communication discipline, and called in support at the right time. I have no qualms about rewarding you with twenty tally points also the (permanent) rank of Wolf Squad Leader, most commendable!” said the Legion Veteran.
“I appreciate you might feel a little ill used, but that comes with the territory. You had best become familiar with need to know - from the onset - and impossible demands! Only our Commander in Chief, and my self have no penal record. However, even we carry the toxin as volunteers. I suppose the idea of volunteering for this duty shocks you. It shouldn’t the Legion of the Damned is the hardest finest - best equipped - fighting unit in the entire Argon military”, stated the Fortress Commander with some pride.
“I suppose that also might surprise you,” said the Fortress Commander, “it shouldn’t, we are expected to do the impossible. Oh we are expendables, but we must still get the result, and if we can it is our duty to survive! Those that form the cornerstones of the Damned are all natural survivors. I believe Amon you fall squarely into that category. Do well and you might even rise to a rank almost as high as my own - with all its privileges – live long enough and you can even retire here in a non combatant training or advisory capacity. We never waste our assets! I also was impressed with your scout. He almost made it out, and gave a reasonable warning. Yes I have decided not to penalise him for being killed this once.”
“That is generous Sir, may I ask about the Rats?” asked Amon.
“I’m afraid they knew about the wider mission all along. Bale will be tested another time in other ways. Perhaps you may even be in on that one, it remains to be seen,” said the Legion Commander with a smirk.
“I very much hope I get that opportunity, Sir,” noted Amon.
“We like to foster a degree of competition Wolf Leader, but never forget we are all brothers, and Damned!” said the Fortress Commander.
Jon jumped into the home system of the Wall, and sent his Caiman far off the ecliptic. It was another long trip through the empty dark. With Arke watching over his shoulder he carefully guided his ‘Red Slip’ now called ‘Voyage’ around the various obstacles taking the only route through the mine field. He then skirted the camouflaging asteroid, and made the delicate tight manual piloting manoeuvres needed to mate with the docking clamp. Oddly it felt good to be home at the Fortress.
“Ok Arke time to un-crate the new recruit,” said Jon and see if it’s a tally bonus or a deficit from this trip!
“Better be a bonus,” complained Arke, “the fekker is dead after all. No need for our new found Boron allies to be stepping lightly because of that one anymore, even if we still have some loose cannon Fallen Angels out there somewhere in the night.”
“On that score it is rather lucky we come prepared with the devils own sister,” smiled Flyn.
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 31 – The Best of a Bad Lot
In the Argon Sector of the Wall far off the Grid in the Fortress of the Damned Lesh was sometimes glad, at other times filled with horror, that the powers had kept her together with Teri. Lesh could do with the comfort of at least one familiar face, as obviously could Teri? It also meant Lesh got to avoid contact with the particular Green Monkey scum that had raped her friend. The loose partnership was hardly without its difficulties though, for a start every time Lesh looked at Teri she felt a stab of guilt. Lesh out of fear for herself had done nothing to defend her friend, and workmate!
At one point Lesh had almost convinced herself the woman had provoked the attack - it had been easier that way! Well Teri never used to know when to back down, but it was still a self serving lie. Lesh knew this deceit, and her inaction were just - symptoms of self preservation - but she didn’t have to like it! The other hard thing was Teri herself had changed.
The woman had gone from almost catatonic, and fragile in Freedom custody to seemingly fearful, remote, and uncommunicative on the Argon Colossus. Now Teri seemed like a canister that barely contained the internal pressure of hidden volatile emotions. Lesh used to understand empathise with Teri, now Lesh often felt she no longer understood what was going on behind her cold friends’ long stare! It was like looking at an alien creature inhabiting Teri’s corpse.
Lesh’s failure or lack of understanding created another distance between them igniting even more pangs of guilt! It was an emotional seesaw. Lesh felt good when she managed briefly almost covertly - on occasion - help her friend, bad when she miserably failed to raise the female’s morale once again! Teri for her part was utterly rigidly self-contained, and cold even aggressively dismissive of any obvious aid. Lesh had to be subtle in her approach, and self-rewarding. Lesh got little positive feedback for her efforts from her damaged associate.
Hardly fit for socialising as front-end staff they - now both - worked behind the scenes in the Fortresses officers’ mess. For wonder Lesh discovered a joy in preparing the food, this activity required a deep degree of concentration, could be exhausting, and was therefore perfect for killing off stray thoughts. It had shocked Lesh how well the Legion of the Damned Officers ate.
The station had its own hydroponics and even some livestock as well as vat grown substances that were synthesised, flavoured, and processed into various forms. Everything from artificial meat like solids to tasty soups, and stews were manufactured. Some of the work was even quite artistic (moulding and dressing the finished goods) and required a degree of skill, and flare. Food wise the Fortress was almost entirely self-sufficient. Lesh had heard the farms, and plants had to up production recently - due to the increase in population - but they had not topped their capacity by a long way.
Physically their new life had been much more comfortable than Lesh had imagined. They had a single shared cubicle not the expected mass billet. The psychological pressures were the devil not fleshy hardships, at least not for the moment. The enforced nature of their sentence was the curse - the denial of freedom, and true independence - Lesh acutely suffered from the failure of her old dreams, the permanent loss of her children. Sometimes with even more guilt Lesh believed she only stuck it out with Teri because it allowed her - in her head - to remain a surrogate mother.
Lesh looked across the clean but crowded shiny spaces to her friend Teri. Teri was busy peeling vegetables she seemed to prefer the more repetitive manual tasks. Even when there were machine aids - if a task could be done by hand - Teri would find that way. At first the head chef had tried to force the stubborn woman to use the devices uncharacteristically requesting, pleading then more naturally losing his temper shouting, and ranting! All Jobe’s efforts might as well have been directed at the bulkhead. Now he was content to let the woman do her own thing, and just worked around her eccentricity - making faces behind her back, and muttering curses!
Sometimes it was hard not to laugh at Jobe’s frustrations. He had wanted Teri removed from his realm but the powers refused him. Usually it was hard to imagine the man had ever been a Pirate, but if he lifted a knife in real anger – it was wise to back down. Only Teri had broken his complete regional dominance, not that she seemed to care! The male Argon was a tyrant but Lesh had worked with his demanding sort before.
“Stop day dreaming girl,” cursed the Head Chef, “those scallops had best be ready and right or there will be hell to pay.”
Lesh put her head down and returned to the task of filling the moulds. She wished Jobe would stop insisting on just calling her girl. It was always girl do this, girl do that, for fekking Paranidia’s sake girl do you remember nothing I showed you… nothing!!! Secretly Lesh prided herself on being a quick study, and she was sure Jobe thought so too, however, it would damage his pride to admit that any part of his work might be - easily - replicated by a mere novice!
As Teri skinned the vegetables she was thinking about how difficult it would be to steal a knife. At the end of the shift every blade had a specific home, and an inspection was made before the staff where permitted egress. Nonetheless, there had to be a way. It was frustrating - here she was surrounded by so many potential weapons - and yet she was still offence less.
Elsewhere on the Fortress Sab carefully hooked himself up to - and stuffed into – the still barely familiar powered armour, and vac suit. Triple checking everything twice. The zero G drills game him the creeps he liked space but not that much. Joining the rest of the Wolf, and Rat squads they shuffled into one massive airlock, and were cycled out into space. Amon burst over the Wolves closed com as the two groups separated.
“Right lads this should be fun you know the drill. Defend our beacon capture the Rats,” explained Amon.
“No simulated ire blasters today just glove slap. Get your paw on an enemy, and he is history, vice versa, and you are down. This is about speed, stealth, cover, manoeuvring, and teamwork. Winners get ten team tally points each, individual points are as follows: plus two for each personal kill, lose ten if you’re taken out, minus twenty if you damage your suit - I jest not! Listen lads losing is not an option, let’s go earn some privileges off those stinking rats.” Somehow Sab could hear one of Amon’s winks in the last comment!
Minus twenty for damaging the suit was what really stuck though. If you damaged the suit loss of incentives was the last thing you would be worrying about! Nonetheless, he knew they would all soon be skimming the asteroids surface like maniacs even entering the natural, and Argon made surface features the trenches shallow tunnels, and conduits. All for a few drinks some sports downloads, and maybe an opportunity for a tryst! They were all AN [Argon Navy] mercenary tarts now! Still it could be worse at least they had some of the best equipment he had ever seen, and their own as squad commanders.
“Ok,” Amon said, “here is the breakdown. Sab you’re advanced scout as usual. Make the most of that light extra fast rig you are wearing, and keep a constant report. I’m tactics, and rear guard defence. The rest of you wolves are troopers. I want a fast mobile all out offence. I’m pretty sure Bale will expect me to use a cautious hidden advance lets give - Rat Leader - a nasty surprise! Sab I want you to scout then distract off you go. Remember lads our chat is secure so keep yourselves, and myself clearly informed but - no colourful babble - right go, go, go!” communicated Amon, “Sab get down - keep it low - what do you see.”
“Nothing yet, looks clear I’m going into the rip it should take me right to the edge of enemy territory,” he explained.
“Careful lad it can get crowded in that trench. Don’t get hemmed in,” advised Amon.
“Trust me, I know what I’m doing. Paranidia, sorry new obstacle the sneaking fekker’s, I nearly had a collision! Holy, what the… wait there is something down here far up ahead Amon, I can see what the, movement lots of movement, Paranidia I have multiply traces. Amon, fek, it’s not the rats. I have incoming hostiles, repeat hostiles this is not a drill I’m strafing ou sctrrreechhhh.”
“Sab report over, Sab report over, what the fek was that! Squad pull back. I repeat pull back, back to the airlock,” stated Amon turning to a wider broadcast including the Rats Amon shouted, “Exercise aborted, we have real EVA hostiles this is not a drill pull your lads out Bale, I repeat Exercise Aborted we have hostile contact, this is not a drill! Bale, are you reading me over,” silence followed.
Shifting channel Amon linked into the fortress, “Fortress this is Wolf Leader undertaking Operation Exit Green. Exercise Aborted we have hostile targets this is not a drill, we have unknown EVA hostiles repeat this is not a drill. We are Exit Green [on exercise now aborted] unarmed and undergoing a hot forced tactical retreat. Advice and assistance requested, over.”
“Exit Green this is Ops. One, Quick Reaction Surface Support units being dispatched eta tactical visual timer set to your HUD. Fighters will launch in support visual timer set. Your positions are tagged what is the Rat Squads condition. We have no Rat trace, repeat zero Rat sign on our monitors. We were about to call in tech support!”
“Rat Squad status unknown suspect KIA. My scout is MIA we have multiple incoming. I’m picking up targets now approaching fast,” Amon stared through the red blue countdown lines till the reinforcements arrived. It was quick, damn quick but it was still going to be too late, “the last of my boys have just gone past I’m following now, but they are right on top of us,” Spinning around Amon flew backwards to get a visual, “Targets acquired, I can see them They are spider like but with gossamer looking wing like structures protruding from their backs - glinting with what looks like energy collectors. They are scampering and flitting across the surface. They looked mechanical, we’re not going to make it to the lock in time.”
“I think they are surface infiltrators boarders. I’m aborting station entry and going deep into the dark,” changing channels Amon could hear the panicked heavy breathing and shouted queries among his own pack, “Wolf Squad this is Wolf Leader abort previous order follow me.”
Amon launched himself into space rocketing away from the station on full thrust; his unarmed team also jetting propulsion immediately followed him. Under them the unknown contacts swarmed past like a hoard of angry ants. Whatever they were they didn’t follow into the night.
“Amon what the hell is going on?” asked one of the Wolves.
“Stick to radio procedure lad this isn’t a party over,” stated Amon, “lets see what is going on everyone turn, and set your recorders,” Amon noticed his visual countdown hit zero for the QRSS [quick reaction surface squad], and suddenly Legion where erupting onto the scene from a series of hidden airlocks that shot open. A fire fight ensued the first creatures were taken by surprise at range then all hell broke lose as the aliens opened up with their own weapons, and it became a free for all.
Amon turned off his communicator, and cursed, “Fekking credit grabbing daughters of a Teladi tart,” he spat belatedly realising he had been suckered the whole thing was a drill.
The alien (drone?) fire was soft just light trace. Scout ships raced in, and pounded the enemy with more simulated fire, and eventually the outbreak was contained with some simulated casualties. Amon, and his men were still spluttering curses when they got the recall signal for a training mission debriefing!
Sometime later at a debriefing session Amon found he had done well.
“Congratulations Squad Leader, Outstanding, you saved your entire squad - except for the scout, who never had much of a chance - and even thought to collect intelligence data! You also kept a clear head - good communication discipline, and called in support at the right time. I have no qualms about rewarding you with twenty tally points also the (permanent) rank of Wolf Squad Leader, most commendable!” said the Legion Veteran.
“I appreciate you might feel a little ill used, but that comes with the territory. You had best become familiar with need to know - from the onset - and impossible demands! Only our Commander in Chief, and my self have no penal record. However, even we carry the toxin as volunteers. I suppose the idea of volunteering for this duty shocks you. It shouldn’t the Legion of the Damned is the hardest finest - best equipped - fighting unit in the entire Argon military”, stated the Fortress Commander with some pride.
“I suppose that also might surprise you,” said the Fortress Commander, “it shouldn’t, we are expected to do the impossible. Oh we are expendables, but we must still get the result, and if we can it is our duty to survive! Those that form the cornerstones of the Damned are all natural survivors. I believe Amon you fall squarely into that category. Do well and you might even rise to a rank almost as high as my own - with all its privileges – live long enough and you can even retire here in a non combatant training or advisory capacity. We never waste our assets! I also was impressed with your scout. He almost made it out, and gave a reasonable warning. Yes I have decided not to penalise him for being killed this once.”
“That is generous Sir, may I ask about the Rats?” asked Amon.
“I’m afraid they knew about the wider mission all along. Bale will be tested another time in other ways. Perhaps you may even be in on that one, it remains to be seen,” said the Legion Commander with a smirk.
“I very much hope I get that opportunity, Sir,” noted Amon.
“We like to foster a degree of competition Wolf Leader, but never forget we are all brothers, and Damned!” said the Fortress Commander.
Jon jumped into the home system of the Wall, and sent his Caiman far off the ecliptic. It was another long trip through the empty dark. With Arke watching over his shoulder he carefully guided his ‘Red Slip’ now called ‘Voyage’ around the various obstacles taking the only route through the mine field. He then skirted the camouflaging asteroid, and made the delicate tight manual piloting manoeuvres needed to mate with the docking clamp. Oddly it felt good to be home at the Fortress.
“Ok Arke time to un-crate the new recruit,” said Jon and see if it’s a tally bonus or a deficit from this trip!
“Better be a bonus,” complained Arke, “the fekker is dead after all. No need for our new found Boron allies to be stepping lightly because of that one anymore, even if we still have some loose cannon Fallen Angels out there somewhere in the night.”
“On that score it is rather lucky we come prepared with the devils own sister,” smiled Flyn.
Last edited by Paranoid66 on Mon, 21. Apr 08, 20:35, edited 2 times in total.
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Paranoid66
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Reapers Passage
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 32 – Back to Business as Usual
On AFC 4 Gregor was feeling at his most smooth surrounded by his subjects, allies, and admirers. The function was going well soft music played in the background, wine was flowing, and the guests were mingling. Overlaying the music was the murmured rhythms of polite, and witty conversation. Feeling magnanimous in success Gregor wandered over to Anna, and hung his right an arm over her shoulder from behind. Gregor leaned over to whisper in her ear.
“Everything is going wonderfully don’t you think? It is so good to be back on track, Perhaps both our workloads can start to ease a little bit soon. Yes everything back to how it should have been once the traitor Rud has been properly dispensed with!” Gregor stated.
Anna smiled struggling not to tense up. It was like being embraced by a venomous snake, “It will be good to get back into an orderly routine,” she soothed.
“Yes routine has its uses as well,” noted the Administrator, “perhaps we have had a few too many breaks from normality recently. It has been an upsetting time for everyone - I felt even a little upsetting for you - am I correct in that assumption Anna?”
“I wouldn’t regret a return to less staged undertakings,” Anna confessed.
“Yes, it has all been bit of a play recently. A show but a necessary one, you know I learned a lot from my time on Argon Prime! I learned just how important perception is. Far more important than reality, before I was the puppet now I am the director! Do you think I make a good Director Anna?” Gregor asked.
“I would say you have an aptitude for the dramatic, perhaps you had best ask your wider audience. I am too close to the production to comment,” said Anna forcing a smile.
“True enough! I really should circulate. Who would have imagined that a traitor could be an asset?’ remarked Gregor with a smirk as he moved away.
Gregor was really beginning to give Anna the creeps. Since his return from Argon Prime it was like he had a multitude of facets; none of which seemed especially trustworthy! The AFC 4 Administrator had become erratic, and impossible to read. His moods swinging like a dysfunctional pendulum on more than merely one axis. The Argon fairly wobbled, Anna was more, and more convinced that her boss was mentally unstable.
Anna was aware now courtesy of the ‘Hive access Core’ that Gregor was taking a prodigious cocktail of drugs on a regular basis. She had no idea how this was effecting his cognition, beyond the obvious quirks! For once Anna couldn’t make up her mind as to the best course of action. All she could think about was that stupid bit of (surveillance) advice from ANI.
Who was that he was accosting now in the fabulous blue green gown? Damn it was Shimoo the cursed little student academic would be social climber! The childish little tart had been trying to chase her down for cycles now. Shimoo was a security risk Anna wished she could have Ravn bop her over the head, and send her packing unfortunately her family where too well connected. Anna rushed off before Shimoo managed to disengage herself from Gregors clinging advances. Luckily that wouldn’t be so easy for the young woman - Anna knew Gregor had taken quite a fancy to the long legged waitress!
“Anna you look like you want to escape this parade,” stated a Argon gesturing her away from the crowd.
G wasn’t sure why but on the instant he felt that they had both lost there way among this crowd, and were in need of the escape of a distraction, or the distraction of an escape!
Anna recognised Garrin and wondered had she fallen into a trap, “Hello G,” she said, “you seem to be finding your way to a lot of these little meets these days,” Anna noted half expecting Shimoo to appear in a flanking action.
“Not by choice,” Garrin complained, “Shimoo has the taste for this sort of thing, not me!”
They drifted away from the main centre of activity, and into a quiet corner.
“I don’t get you G, you never struck me as the type that worked hard at being unhappy?” questioned Anna.
“Straight to the bone,” said Garrin wincing, “I don’t get myself anymore either!”
They sipped their drinks for a bit in companionable silence. Content with contemplating their separate troubled thoughts finally Anna asked, “Do you like living in the High Tower?”
“Not especially, I thought it would be amusing, really it doesn’t mean anything! Still I do like the view, I like to look out into the dark sometimes, more than I used to!” he confessed, “sounds rather melancholic now I mention it.”
“That can be a little dangerous,” said Anna, “I have been told somehow it is not the same as looking out from a cockpit. Somehow the movement makes a difference stops you feeling as small and insignificant. Don’t stare into the void too much Garrin it can seep into you until a well of emptiness is all that is left!”
“That sound like a voice with experience,” noted Garrin.
“Not my own luckily,” said Anna with a smile to soften her words, “but I have known colleagues, one hung himself from a bulkhead at a particularly isolated station.”
“I’m sorry,” said Garrin, “I’ll remember that. I have been feeling a little less than myself.”
“You need to occupy your mind, get some work, and keep active,” Anna smiled.
“Funny that is what Shimoo said,” noted Garrin with a frown before taking another swallow.
Somehow Anna doubted it was for reasons of G’s mental health, “I have a few contracts. I can always use a fast reliable courier like you. Your trips in the Reaper have always been well logged by AF!” noted Anna, “Stop by the CAO tomorrow, and we can discuss some of the up coming runs. Never mind anything else some of these monkeys will want fast ferried around or extra fancy goods brought in. I’d rather give the business to someone I know and trust!”
“Hey that’s really great. I haven’t really been in the mood for a hard sell. Maybe getting out there is just what I need. Get away from - everything - you know?” Garrin said.
“I think I do,” said Anna, “I think I do!” Anna noticed Shimoo coming over, “Sorry G have to run, just remembered have to speak with Ex Senator Yolt” using her Station Running prowess Anna slipped into, and through the crowd like water.
“Was that Anna Dei you were just talking to?” asked Shimoo obviously livid.
“Gregor’s PA you mean? I believe she has an appointment with Ex Senator Yolt!” Garrin said smiling.
Garrin had finally sussed out his partner Shimoo was stalking the female for some reason, and couldn’t resist teasing her.
“Damn it to hell,” sulked Shimoo, “I swear Anna is actively avoiding me.”
“Who Anna avoiding you?” asked Garrin far too innocently.
Shimoo gave G a hard look, “What were you two talking about?”
“Nothing much, just work, you did say I should find a job,” he reminded.
“Well this night is a blow out. Might as well go home if you have your job,” Shimoo said pouting.
“Yes let’s go for some reason I feel quite,” he ran a finger down the back of Shimoo’s spine, “keen.”
Ravn and Elaen were covering the late cycle walking the beat around the more public spaces. Although AFC 4 never stopped it still had its own day, and night cycles. Argon just operated better with these time allusions. Thus the brightness of the stations lights varied slightly in brilliance, and hue. It was a long established policy adopted by most Argon station habitats. At the moment the light was dimmer, and had a mild blue cast. This represented the evening. Of course it never actually got dark as that would be a foolish safety hazard.
Ravn and Elaen were both enamoured of this time period. It was usually one of the less actives times, and the slightly dimmer light felt relaxing. They had made their way down to Hub One and found themselves beside the living tree. In the evening tiny light’s hung among the branches were illuminated sparkling like internal stars. Elaen always considered the natural greenery, and the artificial lights a surprisingly moving, and beautiful combination. She had been shocked to learn that Ravn - hard man that he was - honestly felt the same way.
Despite a constant flow of Argon Traffic the two constables were for a moment alone in some eldritch wood. When they both stopped to take in the tree with a childhood wonder everything else faded into the distance. Elaen broke the moment with a sigh and said, “Guess we had better keep moving. Check out the Dens, and Dives for trouble!”
“I guess so,” noted Ravn, “I’m glad it has the shrubs for company,” he said, “otherwise it would seem a bit lonely!”
Elaen smiled, “Ravn you never cease to amaze me. I swear somewhere under all those tight muscles, and scars lurks the soul of a poet,” she said.
“Not a very good one,” replied Ravn.
“I’m not so sure. I think a lot of combat veterans are touched by poetry,” noted Elaen.
“Melancholia more like,” confessed Ravn, “too much familiarity with death.”
Why do I always seem to end up with partners obsessed with the Reaper she wondered!
Alis behind the bar of the ‘Third Space’ nodded over to the Lt. Constable, and her partner when they entered. As Corporate Police went she was getting used to Elaen she seemed a fair sort. The Lt. Constable didn’t throw her weight about, and usually gave out - even to the waitresses - a degree of respect. The other AF Police Argon she could never remember the name of though. It just kept slipping her mind - why was she thinking of a black bird? Alis had seen him around though, even here on several occasions. Somebody had told her the two were more than just working partners, it showed as well! The big one always looked dangerous to her, well built but with more than the average fluidity, and easy economy of movement about him!
Alis used to hang / train with some Martial Arts types when she worked a previous station. The big guy reminded her of those kick boxers. Just something about his stance, anyway it was a fairly uneventful night. The two Deck Walkers soon finished their casual scan, and went on their way. Alis returned to wiping the bar and listening to the locals’ hard luck stories with a sympathetic ear. AFC 4 wasn’t a bad gig at least her little part of it. Pay was Ok, and what she got in tips was her own! The AF Corporate Coppers didn’t care about the Fuel; this made life a lot easier than some places. The Habitat area had plenty of recreational entertainment, and when you were flush food was good.
Alis had been around travelling from station to station. She didn’t really know what she had been looking for a partner maybe, but that at least hadn’t worked out. In her time she had worked some rough houses too. No she liked it here and was happy to put down roots. It was a safe spot nothing much ever really occurred - at least little - that filtered down this far. The odd troublesome refugee with poor credit, the occasional abusive drunken patron, but they had good bouncers, and didn’t serve drunks. Alis was even getting into the music, hear anything enough even Argon Jazz and you either start to like it or hate it! Luckily for Alis it was the former. ‘Third Space’ was kind of a cosy gig too compact, and tidy it felt like home.
Alis smiled at the Dockworker Eno, “Haven’t seen you around in a while,” she said.
“Been pretty busy with the lads - at last - finally got an evening free. Decided I needed a break from the usual suspects,” Eno said grinning.
“Some show going on at the moment,” Alis noted.
“Yeah, the whole Rud trial thing tired of it to be honest. It’s all you get on the station channels,” he complained.
“I know what you mean,” agreed Alis, “I won’t mention it again.”
“Not a big one. Say you guys don’t get any sport here do you?” Eno asked hopefully.
“Sorry just the musical earache,” she chortled.
“It’s not so bad. Kind of makes a change from the usual AP popular crap!” Eno noted.
“True enough, I actually like it myself just some guys who come here to drink like to turn on their sound blocks,” explained Alis laughing, “when they order they bellow in your face.”
“Ha, that’s funny guess it takes all kinds!” replied Eno.
“It sure does, what is it like down your end? I mean do you enjoy humping crates about?” asked Alis.
“Yeah, it’s more varied than it looks. Some aspects of the job are even quite technical. I’ve even got some qualifications,” said Eno with boasting good humour, “you get a laugh too you wouldn’t believe some of the stuff gets shipped into here. I’ve seen it all legal, illegal, and just plain weird!”
“Sounds a bit scary,” replied Alis as she tided up some stock, “what like?”
“Well I can remember finding three full crates of squash mines once. That made me sweat a bit,” Said Eno, “apparently some Pirate unloaded the wrong shipment by accident. Instead of getting paid for some Fuel he got his ship confiscated, and a spell in the brig!”
“Nobody more stupid than a petty criminal,” noted Alis, “I remember one fellow trying to hold up a place I used to work. Came in and pulled out this antiquated slug thrower. I remember thinking it must be some trophy taken by his great, great, great grand daddy or something! Anyway he marches about all nervy pulls it out and starts acting all hard and menacing.”
“Anyway this young Split gets all antsy because once he starts waving his tool in peoples faces instead of getting fear, and respect, everyone stops taking him seriously. Jokes and laughter follow one upon the other. So feeling a bit upset he pokes this piece at one particularly sarcastic fellow. Aims down below, and threatens to turn the male Argon into a female. This guy just laughs out loud, and says Banana boy - you need more lead in you pencil - head butts him to the floor and proceeds to kick seven colours of crap out of him with his mates!”
“Two problems: One this Den was right beside the local Security Station, and was always full of Coppers, two the foolish young Split had forgotten his antiquated Argon gun (apparently stolen from his fathers collection) fired hard bullets, and needed a magazine of ammunition to work!” said Alis.
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 32 – Back to Business as Usual
On AFC 4 Gregor was feeling at his most smooth surrounded by his subjects, allies, and admirers. The function was going well soft music played in the background, wine was flowing, and the guests were mingling. Overlaying the music was the murmured rhythms of polite, and witty conversation. Feeling magnanimous in success Gregor wandered over to Anna, and hung his right an arm over her shoulder from behind. Gregor leaned over to whisper in her ear.
“Everything is going wonderfully don’t you think? It is so good to be back on track, Perhaps both our workloads can start to ease a little bit soon. Yes everything back to how it should have been once the traitor Rud has been properly dispensed with!” Gregor stated.
Anna smiled struggling not to tense up. It was like being embraced by a venomous snake, “It will be good to get back into an orderly routine,” she soothed.
“Yes routine has its uses as well,” noted the Administrator, “perhaps we have had a few too many breaks from normality recently. It has been an upsetting time for everyone - I felt even a little upsetting for you - am I correct in that assumption Anna?”
“I wouldn’t regret a return to less staged undertakings,” Anna confessed.
“Yes, it has all been bit of a play recently. A show but a necessary one, you know I learned a lot from my time on Argon Prime! I learned just how important perception is. Far more important than reality, before I was the puppet now I am the director! Do you think I make a good Director Anna?” Gregor asked.
“I would say you have an aptitude for the dramatic, perhaps you had best ask your wider audience. I am too close to the production to comment,” said Anna forcing a smile.
“True enough! I really should circulate. Who would have imagined that a traitor could be an asset?’ remarked Gregor with a smirk as he moved away.
Gregor was really beginning to give Anna the creeps. Since his return from Argon Prime it was like he had a multitude of facets; none of which seemed especially trustworthy! The AFC 4 Administrator had become erratic, and impossible to read. His moods swinging like a dysfunctional pendulum on more than merely one axis. The Argon fairly wobbled, Anna was more, and more convinced that her boss was mentally unstable.
Anna was aware now courtesy of the ‘Hive access Core’ that Gregor was taking a prodigious cocktail of drugs on a regular basis. She had no idea how this was effecting his cognition, beyond the obvious quirks! For once Anna couldn’t make up her mind as to the best course of action. All she could think about was that stupid bit of (surveillance) advice from ANI.
Who was that he was accosting now in the fabulous blue green gown? Damn it was Shimoo the cursed little student academic would be social climber! The childish little tart had been trying to chase her down for cycles now. Shimoo was a security risk Anna wished she could have Ravn bop her over the head, and send her packing unfortunately her family where too well connected. Anna rushed off before Shimoo managed to disengage herself from Gregors clinging advances. Luckily that wouldn’t be so easy for the young woman - Anna knew Gregor had taken quite a fancy to the long legged waitress!
“Anna you look like you want to escape this parade,” stated a Argon gesturing her away from the crowd.
G wasn’t sure why but on the instant he felt that they had both lost there way among this crowd, and were in need of the escape of a distraction, or the distraction of an escape!
Anna recognised Garrin and wondered had she fallen into a trap, “Hello G,” she said, “you seem to be finding your way to a lot of these little meets these days,” Anna noted half expecting Shimoo to appear in a flanking action.
“Not by choice,” Garrin complained, “Shimoo has the taste for this sort of thing, not me!”
They drifted away from the main centre of activity, and into a quiet corner.
“I don’t get you G, you never struck me as the type that worked hard at being unhappy?” questioned Anna.
“Straight to the bone,” said Garrin wincing, “I don’t get myself anymore either!”
They sipped their drinks for a bit in companionable silence. Content with contemplating their separate troubled thoughts finally Anna asked, “Do you like living in the High Tower?”
“Not especially, I thought it would be amusing, really it doesn’t mean anything! Still I do like the view, I like to look out into the dark sometimes, more than I used to!” he confessed, “sounds rather melancholic now I mention it.”
“That can be a little dangerous,” said Anna, “I have been told somehow it is not the same as looking out from a cockpit. Somehow the movement makes a difference stops you feeling as small and insignificant. Don’t stare into the void too much Garrin it can seep into you until a well of emptiness is all that is left!”
“That sound like a voice with experience,” noted Garrin.
“Not my own luckily,” said Anna with a smile to soften her words, “but I have known colleagues, one hung himself from a bulkhead at a particularly isolated station.”
“I’m sorry,” said Garrin, “I’ll remember that. I have been feeling a little less than myself.”
“You need to occupy your mind, get some work, and keep active,” Anna smiled.
“Funny that is what Shimoo said,” noted Garrin with a frown before taking another swallow.
Somehow Anna doubted it was for reasons of G’s mental health, “I have a few contracts. I can always use a fast reliable courier like you. Your trips in the Reaper have always been well logged by AF!” noted Anna, “Stop by the CAO tomorrow, and we can discuss some of the up coming runs. Never mind anything else some of these monkeys will want fast ferried around or extra fancy goods brought in. I’d rather give the business to someone I know and trust!”
“Hey that’s really great. I haven’t really been in the mood for a hard sell. Maybe getting out there is just what I need. Get away from - everything - you know?” Garrin said.
“I think I do,” said Anna, “I think I do!” Anna noticed Shimoo coming over, “Sorry G have to run, just remembered have to speak with Ex Senator Yolt” using her Station Running prowess Anna slipped into, and through the crowd like water.
“Was that Anna Dei you were just talking to?” asked Shimoo obviously livid.
“Gregor’s PA you mean? I believe she has an appointment with Ex Senator Yolt!” Garrin said smiling.
Garrin had finally sussed out his partner Shimoo was stalking the female for some reason, and couldn’t resist teasing her.
“Damn it to hell,” sulked Shimoo, “I swear Anna is actively avoiding me.”
“Who Anna avoiding you?” asked Garrin far too innocently.
Shimoo gave G a hard look, “What were you two talking about?”
“Nothing much, just work, you did say I should find a job,” he reminded.
“Well this night is a blow out. Might as well go home if you have your job,” Shimoo said pouting.
“Yes let’s go for some reason I feel quite,” he ran a finger down the back of Shimoo’s spine, “keen.”
Ravn and Elaen were covering the late cycle walking the beat around the more public spaces. Although AFC 4 never stopped it still had its own day, and night cycles. Argon just operated better with these time allusions. Thus the brightness of the stations lights varied slightly in brilliance, and hue. It was a long established policy adopted by most Argon station habitats. At the moment the light was dimmer, and had a mild blue cast. This represented the evening. Of course it never actually got dark as that would be a foolish safety hazard.
Ravn and Elaen were both enamoured of this time period. It was usually one of the less actives times, and the slightly dimmer light felt relaxing. They had made their way down to Hub One and found themselves beside the living tree. In the evening tiny light’s hung among the branches were illuminated sparkling like internal stars. Elaen always considered the natural greenery, and the artificial lights a surprisingly moving, and beautiful combination. She had been shocked to learn that Ravn - hard man that he was - honestly felt the same way.
Despite a constant flow of Argon Traffic the two constables were for a moment alone in some eldritch wood. When they both stopped to take in the tree with a childhood wonder everything else faded into the distance. Elaen broke the moment with a sigh and said, “Guess we had better keep moving. Check out the Dens, and Dives for trouble!”
“I guess so,” noted Ravn, “I’m glad it has the shrubs for company,” he said, “otherwise it would seem a bit lonely!”
Elaen smiled, “Ravn you never cease to amaze me. I swear somewhere under all those tight muscles, and scars lurks the soul of a poet,” she said.
“Not a very good one,” replied Ravn.
“I’m not so sure. I think a lot of combat veterans are touched by poetry,” noted Elaen.
“Melancholia more like,” confessed Ravn, “too much familiarity with death.”
Why do I always seem to end up with partners obsessed with the Reaper she wondered!
Alis behind the bar of the ‘Third Space’ nodded over to the Lt. Constable, and her partner when they entered. As Corporate Police went she was getting used to Elaen she seemed a fair sort. The Lt. Constable didn’t throw her weight about, and usually gave out - even to the waitresses - a degree of respect. The other AF Police Argon she could never remember the name of though. It just kept slipping her mind - why was she thinking of a black bird? Alis had seen him around though, even here on several occasions. Somebody had told her the two were more than just working partners, it showed as well! The big one always looked dangerous to her, well built but with more than the average fluidity, and easy economy of movement about him!
Alis used to hang / train with some Martial Arts types when she worked a previous station. The big guy reminded her of those kick boxers. Just something about his stance, anyway it was a fairly uneventful night. The two Deck Walkers soon finished their casual scan, and went on their way. Alis returned to wiping the bar and listening to the locals’ hard luck stories with a sympathetic ear. AFC 4 wasn’t a bad gig at least her little part of it. Pay was Ok, and what she got in tips was her own! The AF Corporate Coppers didn’t care about the Fuel; this made life a lot easier than some places. The Habitat area had plenty of recreational entertainment, and when you were flush food was good.
Alis had been around travelling from station to station. She didn’t really know what she had been looking for a partner maybe, but that at least hadn’t worked out. In her time she had worked some rough houses too. No she liked it here and was happy to put down roots. It was a safe spot nothing much ever really occurred - at least little - that filtered down this far. The odd troublesome refugee with poor credit, the occasional abusive drunken patron, but they had good bouncers, and didn’t serve drunks. Alis was even getting into the music, hear anything enough even Argon Jazz and you either start to like it or hate it! Luckily for Alis it was the former. ‘Third Space’ was kind of a cosy gig too compact, and tidy it felt like home.
Alis smiled at the Dockworker Eno, “Haven’t seen you around in a while,” she said.
“Been pretty busy with the lads - at last - finally got an evening free. Decided I needed a break from the usual suspects,” Eno said grinning.
“Some show going on at the moment,” Alis noted.
“Yeah, the whole Rud trial thing tired of it to be honest. It’s all you get on the station channels,” he complained.
“I know what you mean,” agreed Alis, “I won’t mention it again.”
“Not a big one. Say you guys don’t get any sport here do you?” Eno asked hopefully.
“Sorry just the musical earache,” she chortled.
“It’s not so bad. Kind of makes a change from the usual AP popular crap!” Eno noted.
“True enough, I actually like it myself just some guys who come here to drink like to turn on their sound blocks,” explained Alis laughing, “when they order they bellow in your face.”
“Ha, that’s funny guess it takes all kinds!” replied Eno.
“It sure does, what is it like down your end? I mean do you enjoy humping crates about?” asked Alis.
“Yeah, it’s more varied than it looks. Some aspects of the job are even quite technical. I’ve even got some qualifications,” said Eno with boasting good humour, “you get a laugh too you wouldn’t believe some of the stuff gets shipped into here. I’ve seen it all legal, illegal, and just plain weird!”
“Sounds a bit scary,” replied Alis as she tided up some stock, “what like?”
“Well I can remember finding three full crates of squash mines once. That made me sweat a bit,” Said Eno, “apparently some Pirate unloaded the wrong shipment by accident. Instead of getting paid for some Fuel he got his ship confiscated, and a spell in the brig!”
“Nobody more stupid than a petty criminal,” noted Alis, “I remember one fellow trying to hold up a place I used to work. Came in and pulled out this antiquated slug thrower. I remember thinking it must be some trophy taken by his great, great, great grand daddy or something! Anyway he marches about all nervy pulls it out and starts acting all hard and menacing.”
“Anyway this young Split gets all antsy because once he starts waving his tool in peoples faces instead of getting fear, and respect, everyone stops taking him seriously. Jokes and laughter follow one upon the other. So feeling a bit upset he pokes this piece at one particularly sarcastic fellow. Aims down below, and threatens to turn the male Argon into a female. This guy just laughs out loud, and says Banana boy - you need more lead in you pencil - head butts him to the floor and proceeds to kick seven colours of crap out of him with his mates!”
“Two problems: One this Den was right beside the local Security Station, and was always full of Coppers, two the foolish young Split had forgotten his antiquated Argon gun (apparently stolen from his fathers collection) fired hard bullets, and needed a magazine of ammunition to work!” said Alis.
Last edited by Paranoid66 on Mon, 21. Apr 08, 20:36, edited 2 times in total.
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Paranoid66
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chapter 33
Reapers Passage
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 33 – Tangled Roots
In the High Tower it was the morning after the night before. Garrin felt bruised and battered, but more alert than he had been in cycles. He was alone in the bed. Shimoo was gone already probably at the Bazaar (as she had planned) spending more of his credits. Last night had been less like love, and more like a battle for dominance. An exhausting collision the likes of which he had never experienced before. Garrin was pretty sure Shimoo had left thinking she was still on top, but G was convinced he knew better!
Bouncing out of bed with a smile G made for the shower. Garrin had an important meet with the PA Anna today. Today was the first cycle in a new beginning. Last night he had suffered a dark satisfaction - one born of despair - then a sweaty epiphany. It was not enough: the luxury of the High Tower, the easy seduction by Shimoo, and it was not for him either. Garrin realised he had fallen. The deck had pitched beneath him, he had dropped, but being in a spin, and in space he had been confused. G had failed to orientate himself to the right star. Failed to realise what was up, and what was down!
More than that Garrin realised he had been a total fekker. Casually abusing the only Argon he really cared about, other than himself, and it was not Shimoo! Under the shower G wished he could as easily clean off the stains of his recent mistakes his faithless self-obsession that had led to betrayal. Could Elaen ever forgive him? Would she take him back? Did he even have any right to ask? What about Ravn, and what about Shimoo? He didn’t have any of the answers! At least Garrin now felt that he was finally starting to ask - a few - of the right questions.
Shimoo sauntered around Wynt’s boutique looking at the fanciful imports. Most of the stuff was tat, even here, but if you looked long enough! Shimoo was still reeling from last night. What had gotten into G? Shimoo had never been party to anything quite like that before! It made the female shiver; just thinking about it placed a wicked leer on her face. Maybe the young Argon really was a keeper, and not just for the holiday period either!
Perhaps Garrin wasn’t just a useful item to be handled then discarded. Maybe G was even more than an enjoyable plaything! Last night she had felt strength within the Argon - a raging torrent of fire - one in which Shimoo could almost be happy to burn! Almost she had lost her self-possession. Almost Shimoo had abandoned the essential control that she had fostered from her earliest childhood. The hard surface layer that had been forged around her by the dark lessons of unfeeling - disinterested self obsessed - parents, almost!
Feeling she needed the comfort of - the ordinary - this morning Shimoo had come here to look at the merchandise. To spend some credits (probably not many) perhaps she would find a pair of shoes or a pretty scarf, a glittering belt, or some other minor accessory. It was the stalking hunt that mattered to the female not the trophy of the lame kill. Shimoo felt the need to think to settle upon a new compass bearing. Anna really did seem to be avoiding her, last night the PA’s reticence went beyond mere coincidence. If this were the case what good would it do to force herself upon her idol? An unwanted intrusion would only damage any potential hope of a future working relationship.
No the mountain would have to come to the prophet, but why? What did Shimoo have that someone like Anna might be intrigued by? How could she grab the Ice Empresses attention? What was she going to do about Garrin she couldn’t fall for an Insane Space Jockey, could she? This would never do she slapped a pair of red strapped (station impractical) high stiletto heels back onto a shelf.
“Even I’m not that foolish!” she said out loud to herself.
Rav knew he should be in bed, but his body clock hadn’t managed to convert over from the day to evening shift yet. The copper was back in his cubicle alone. The plan being that left in peace - Elaen at least - could try and get some rest. Normally Ravn had little trouble sleeping, it was a conditioned military response. Ravn could sleep (when required) when he got the chance anytime, anywhere! However the constable just didn’t feel the need, not yet!
He danced forward activating the wet wiring - for the first time - since using the FAST. His hands became a momentary blur striking the clacking sticks that jutted out from the training pole; so continuous were the strikes that the wooden pegs almost produced a solid tone of sound. He then skipped back covered in sweat and feeling close to temporary exhaustion. The enhancements were pretty effective - not the super human overall boost provided by the tooth with the FAST, but less problematic, and more enduring.
Using the wet wiring still burned up a prodigious amount of energy. The enhancements were best employed in very short controlled spurts. The sub dermal modification also only covered his arm and shoulder muscles still they had sufficed on many occasions. He returned to normal speed blows, and kicks settling into a rhythm - broke this by launching another savage rapid combination - before slowing again. Control was the key every enhancement carried its own dangers. In the wet wiring case it could potentially overheat, and cook your muscles. Wet wiring abuse could cause temporary even permanent disability. Used correctly though the wet wiring was a hell of a lot safer than the drug!
Although careful not to push the enhancement the Ravn worked until he felt ready for rest! Unfortunately as soon as the physical discipline stopped his mind kicked in with images of Elaen. He still had no idea who or maybe what he was protecting here, or how long his tour of duty would last! Elaen thought Rav was just another Joe who could stay with her on AFC 4 until circumstances parted them or not. He didn’t know what to do?
Foolishly Rav had let himself get attached Elaen was such a warm caring genuine person. The type of person Ravn rarely met. Ravn wondered would it have been better if Elaen and he had never impacted! Nothing however was fixed as firmly as the past! If only Garrin hadn’t met Shimoo, but deep down Ravn was glad he had, selfish though it was. It was a paradox Rav loved El, and so wanted to be with her. Rav loved El, and so wanted not to be with her lest he hurt her! It made his head spin, and his teeth ache. It was just as well it took a very specific movement to unlock the FAST with its safety cap!
Anna linked in and made a confidential appointment to see Mynae Falen. The PA knew she would have to step lightly, but something had to be done. Laughing at the insanity of it all the Station Runner considered shooting herself with a stimulant then decided she would rather suffer. Anna eyed the legitimate - considered safe - disposable dubiously. It always came down to degree even too much oxygen could be explosive! Unlocking the tidy, sturdy case she pulled out, and set the interface upon her shelf like desk. Plugging in, and placing the lure Anna waited - once again - for the messenger to arrive from the Hive.
Brushing the hair from her eyes she slumped into her not especially comfortable seat. Being off duty Anna was dressed in her favourite lounging kimono. Anna felt tired it was all starting to get to her, she felt alone, isolated. Gregor had once been an unwitting ally of sorts now he was just another obstacle. Anna wished she dared contact Ravn, and reveal her role, wished she could have a real solid confederate on the station one with whom she could properly interface. Anna missed old Febr the joy of productive working cooperation, the infusion of his brilliant star bright intellect! If only the old goat hadn’t betrayed his own work, she even missed his inventive if cold but hard body - a little!
So many things to do at least she had this short period off. Whether the break was due to Gregor being generous or simply wanting her out of the way - because he was scheming - was another question? At least last night (during the festivities) he had kept his new pet thugs at a discreet distance. Anna worried what her boss, and Shimoo had been talking about. Anna decided she might even have the ‘Hive access Core’ isolate, and replay a record of the moment between those two troublesome individuals, just in case! Would it be easier if she simply had a word with the ambitious student, and warned her off?
Maybe a suitable bribe would work better on Shimoo, Anna wasn’t sure the girl had the wit to realise how lethal this game was! The last thing Anna needed was a highly placed little digger poking into her affairs. If things looked too bad Anna was afraid she could be forced into doing something drastic. Engineer an accident - not a fatal one - but she still didn’t want to go there. Anna didn’t consider herself to be a brutal person or a killer. The few lives that some might consider her guilty of taking; those had all been actions of last resort, instigated by the requirement of self-preservation, and / or been ill-fated accidents!
No the PA decided she would have to find another way. Anna already felt guilty about the three Argon bodyguards Ravn had so casually diced during Febrs extraction. The PA wondered who was ultimately responsible for those Operatives deaths: was it herself, their handlers, or Ravn. Of course they were adults and knew the risks of their underhanded undertakings; nonetheless this rationalisation didn’t really assuage her unwanted burden of guilt.
Perhaps the girl’s very ambition could be used against her. Anna would bring in somebody capable of diverting her attention. Somebody who either didn’t know Anna by her R&D reputation, or somebody she could give a limited degree of trust! Anna could get Garrin to collect this temporary station guest. Who among the Archaeologist Community could she entice into spiriting Shimoo away to a dig?
Shouldn’t be too hard to research a field worker who needed funds; with an unhealthy liking for - active - junior student associates. Anna considered the new scheme to be solid. It was a pity Febr had defected to the opposition, as he would have made an ideal candidate. Anna was surprised to realise she suffered a mild pang of jealousy at the thought; the Professor was too good for the likes of Shimoo, somebody less worthy, somebody less eminent would do quite well enough!
Sometime later Anna sighed after scanning the principle Hive derived data left by the Messenger Drone. It would appear Gregor had patched his local terminal (in the High Tower) into the stations security system. He was running monitors on all the CAO staff members including his PA downloading directly almost in real time from the Sealed Secure Data Stores. It was technically another illegal hack (although he was using legit command keys) Gregor was nonetheless bypassing the security desk clearance protocols. For the sake of Corporate Legality Gregor needed permission from the head of the stations security department ‘Commander Carl’ or a remit from central AF on Argon Prime. Gregor had received neither before commencing to run his own private little surveillance operation.
Luckily Anna’s Hive derived routines installed with the unwitting aid of Iyn had stitched over any illicit activity by the PA. Anna’s counter espionage software employed constant updated smoothly melded records (in these Anna undertook various passive routines) as required. Talk about who watches the watchmen. Even as Anna viewed her own illicit download of Gregor watching a false image of her self idly reading a BBS news report on her computer pad; in actually Anna was making ready to watch Gregor watching the fictional feed of his PA. Such loops were enough to bend any - less disciplined - mind through unhealthy angles, but Anna was getting all too used to it!
Anna hoped Gregor didn’t keep it up for too long though. Even the almost miraculous Hive written routines (kindly installed via the back door Iyn had unwittingly put in the system) were still working with Centrals limited Argon capacity hardware. Anna relentlessly employed this access to control, patch, and download extra data, and further updates as required into the ICCS but worried about potential glitches, and / or future slowdown. The algorithms were beautiful constructs but not perfect. Anna often noticed they stitched over some innocent undertakings, [at least she considered them innocent] and occasionally let other slightly dodgy stuff fly.
At least Anna knew these audiovisual story constructs would always cover the most obvious priorities, such as periods when Anna deployed the Lure. In fact Anna was safe anytime she directly interacted with the ‘Hive access Core’. Anything Anna did in the privacy of her own cubicle was also currently flagged as high risk, and covered almost entirely by generated fictions. These stayed pretty close to the ongoing reality but only ever showed the PA performing innocuous expected activities, and routine tasks.
Now Anna had Gregor’s illicit hack logged it was always future ammunition. Perhaps she would have this information leaked directly to Carl’s own secure monitors. The Commander could use it to reassert his own specific regional authority; would Carl be willing to resort to blackmail? Anna wouldn’t put it behind him it was after all just a bit of arm-twisting. Even Gregor as an Administrator was bound by AF rules of conduct his activities limited within the specific division of his role.
Of course Administrators had a wider remit than anyone on the station but it was not boundless. Gregor had made a mistake he should have consulted Carl first! It was good intelligence the best Anna had scooped in a while. Still how would the already unstable Gregor react to being caught out, and dressed down, it would be another slap to that all too brittle ego! No Anna would log it and keep it safe until she had consulted with Mynae. In the meantime it was back to the diabolical ANI advice.
Gregor took a break from scanning his monitoring routines to use the facilities. After cleaning up from his toilet Gregor feeling a little shaky gave himself another shot. With the drugs effects smoothing out his path he exited back under the scrutiny of his own appointed guard. He considered sending the guard outside to join his compatriot in the corridor. It was a little inconvenient having the Argon so close to him while he worked. Gregor worried the imported guard might see too much!
Unfortunately he no longer felt entirely safe on his own, what if an assassin or assassins arrived by GTD into his suite. After all that Hiko Elm had used a Goner Transport Device to escape detention, what can get out can also get in. No he would just have to put up with the prying guard. Hopefully being muscle the Argon wouldn’t appreciate any subtle bending of the rules undertaken by the Administrator - even if it took place right under his nose.
He should be safe enough. In a way it was good to keep a close eye on his protection too. That way he could ensure they weren’t co-opted by any rivals, and or potential enemies. Gregor still trusted Jolo - at least - so he trusted the Argon Prime security, within reason. Sitting down again he resumed watching Anna, he enjoyed watching his PA like this, Gregor found this activity quite exciting. Like spying on his parents come Present Giving when he was a child, only more adult! It was a pity the feed didn’t cover the shower area what lay beneath that females covered exterior had always fascinated Gregor. His PA while sounding so warm had somehow remained frigid to all his advances.
Still it was important not to be distracted from his real business. Gregor was convinced that the spy Hiko Elm had to have another confederate on the inside, someone who warned him he was under surveillance. Gregor would catch that traitor too. At this rate the Argon Military would have to think about giving him a medal - perhaps something for outstanding civilian service to the Federation! He imagined being brought before the Senate, decorated for his dedication. That would be one in the eye for the more decrepit and ill-advised members of the ArgonForge Board.
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 33 – Tangled Roots
In the High Tower it was the morning after the night before. Garrin felt bruised and battered, but more alert than he had been in cycles. He was alone in the bed. Shimoo was gone already probably at the Bazaar (as she had planned) spending more of his credits. Last night had been less like love, and more like a battle for dominance. An exhausting collision the likes of which he had never experienced before. Garrin was pretty sure Shimoo had left thinking she was still on top, but G was convinced he knew better!
Bouncing out of bed with a smile G made for the shower. Garrin had an important meet with the PA Anna today. Today was the first cycle in a new beginning. Last night he had suffered a dark satisfaction - one born of despair - then a sweaty epiphany. It was not enough: the luxury of the High Tower, the easy seduction by Shimoo, and it was not for him either. Garrin realised he had fallen. The deck had pitched beneath him, he had dropped, but being in a spin, and in space he had been confused. G had failed to orientate himself to the right star. Failed to realise what was up, and what was down!
More than that Garrin realised he had been a total fekker. Casually abusing the only Argon he really cared about, other than himself, and it was not Shimoo! Under the shower G wished he could as easily clean off the stains of his recent mistakes his faithless self-obsession that had led to betrayal. Could Elaen ever forgive him? Would she take him back? Did he even have any right to ask? What about Ravn, and what about Shimoo? He didn’t have any of the answers! At least Garrin now felt that he was finally starting to ask - a few - of the right questions.
Shimoo sauntered around Wynt’s boutique looking at the fanciful imports. Most of the stuff was tat, even here, but if you looked long enough! Shimoo was still reeling from last night. What had gotten into G? Shimoo had never been party to anything quite like that before! It made the female shiver; just thinking about it placed a wicked leer on her face. Maybe the young Argon really was a keeper, and not just for the holiday period either!
Perhaps Garrin wasn’t just a useful item to be handled then discarded. Maybe G was even more than an enjoyable plaything! Last night she had felt strength within the Argon - a raging torrent of fire - one in which Shimoo could almost be happy to burn! Almost she had lost her self-possession. Almost Shimoo had abandoned the essential control that she had fostered from her earliest childhood. The hard surface layer that had been forged around her by the dark lessons of unfeeling - disinterested self obsessed - parents, almost!
Feeling she needed the comfort of - the ordinary - this morning Shimoo had come here to look at the merchandise. To spend some credits (probably not many) perhaps she would find a pair of shoes or a pretty scarf, a glittering belt, or some other minor accessory. It was the stalking hunt that mattered to the female not the trophy of the lame kill. Shimoo felt the need to think to settle upon a new compass bearing. Anna really did seem to be avoiding her, last night the PA’s reticence went beyond mere coincidence. If this were the case what good would it do to force herself upon her idol? An unwanted intrusion would only damage any potential hope of a future working relationship.
No the mountain would have to come to the prophet, but why? What did Shimoo have that someone like Anna might be intrigued by? How could she grab the Ice Empresses attention? What was she going to do about Garrin she couldn’t fall for an Insane Space Jockey, could she? This would never do she slapped a pair of red strapped (station impractical) high stiletto heels back onto a shelf.
“Even I’m not that foolish!” she said out loud to herself.
Rav knew he should be in bed, but his body clock hadn’t managed to convert over from the day to evening shift yet. The copper was back in his cubicle alone. The plan being that left in peace - Elaen at least - could try and get some rest. Normally Ravn had little trouble sleeping, it was a conditioned military response. Ravn could sleep (when required) when he got the chance anytime, anywhere! However the constable just didn’t feel the need, not yet!
He danced forward activating the wet wiring - for the first time - since using the FAST. His hands became a momentary blur striking the clacking sticks that jutted out from the training pole; so continuous were the strikes that the wooden pegs almost produced a solid tone of sound. He then skipped back covered in sweat and feeling close to temporary exhaustion. The enhancements were pretty effective - not the super human overall boost provided by the tooth with the FAST, but less problematic, and more enduring.
Using the wet wiring still burned up a prodigious amount of energy. The enhancements were best employed in very short controlled spurts. The sub dermal modification also only covered his arm and shoulder muscles still they had sufficed on many occasions. He returned to normal speed blows, and kicks settling into a rhythm - broke this by launching another savage rapid combination - before slowing again. Control was the key every enhancement carried its own dangers. In the wet wiring case it could potentially overheat, and cook your muscles. Wet wiring abuse could cause temporary even permanent disability. Used correctly though the wet wiring was a hell of a lot safer than the drug!
Although careful not to push the enhancement the Ravn worked until he felt ready for rest! Unfortunately as soon as the physical discipline stopped his mind kicked in with images of Elaen. He still had no idea who or maybe what he was protecting here, or how long his tour of duty would last! Elaen thought Rav was just another Joe who could stay with her on AFC 4 until circumstances parted them or not. He didn’t know what to do?
Foolishly Rav had let himself get attached Elaen was such a warm caring genuine person. The type of person Ravn rarely met. Ravn wondered would it have been better if Elaen and he had never impacted! Nothing however was fixed as firmly as the past! If only Garrin hadn’t met Shimoo, but deep down Ravn was glad he had, selfish though it was. It was a paradox Rav loved El, and so wanted to be with her. Rav loved El, and so wanted not to be with her lest he hurt her! It made his head spin, and his teeth ache. It was just as well it took a very specific movement to unlock the FAST with its safety cap!
Anna linked in and made a confidential appointment to see Mynae Falen. The PA knew she would have to step lightly, but something had to be done. Laughing at the insanity of it all the Station Runner considered shooting herself with a stimulant then decided she would rather suffer. Anna eyed the legitimate - considered safe - disposable dubiously. It always came down to degree even too much oxygen could be explosive! Unlocking the tidy, sturdy case she pulled out, and set the interface upon her shelf like desk. Plugging in, and placing the lure Anna waited - once again - for the messenger to arrive from the Hive.
Brushing the hair from her eyes she slumped into her not especially comfortable seat. Being off duty Anna was dressed in her favourite lounging kimono. Anna felt tired it was all starting to get to her, she felt alone, isolated. Gregor had once been an unwitting ally of sorts now he was just another obstacle. Anna wished she dared contact Ravn, and reveal her role, wished she could have a real solid confederate on the station one with whom she could properly interface. Anna missed old Febr the joy of productive working cooperation, the infusion of his brilliant star bright intellect! If only the old goat hadn’t betrayed his own work, she even missed his inventive if cold but hard body - a little!
So many things to do at least she had this short period off. Whether the break was due to Gregor being generous or simply wanting her out of the way - because he was scheming - was another question? At least last night (during the festivities) he had kept his new pet thugs at a discreet distance. Anna worried what her boss, and Shimoo had been talking about. Anna decided she might even have the ‘Hive access Core’ isolate, and replay a record of the moment between those two troublesome individuals, just in case! Would it be easier if she simply had a word with the ambitious student, and warned her off?
Maybe a suitable bribe would work better on Shimoo, Anna wasn’t sure the girl had the wit to realise how lethal this game was! The last thing Anna needed was a highly placed little digger poking into her affairs. If things looked too bad Anna was afraid she could be forced into doing something drastic. Engineer an accident - not a fatal one - but she still didn’t want to go there. Anna didn’t consider herself to be a brutal person or a killer. The few lives that some might consider her guilty of taking; those had all been actions of last resort, instigated by the requirement of self-preservation, and / or been ill-fated accidents!
No the PA decided she would have to find another way. Anna already felt guilty about the three Argon bodyguards Ravn had so casually diced during Febrs extraction. The PA wondered who was ultimately responsible for those Operatives deaths: was it herself, their handlers, or Ravn. Of course they were adults and knew the risks of their underhanded undertakings; nonetheless this rationalisation didn’t really assuage her unwanted burden of guilt.
Perhaps the girl’s very ambition could be used against her. Anna would bring in somebody capable of diverting her attention. Somebody who either didn’t know Anna by her R&D reputation, or somebody she could give a limited degree of trust! Anna could get Garrin to collect this temporary station guest. Who among the Archaeologist Community could she entice into spiriting Shimoo away to a dig?
Shouldn’t be too hard to research a field worker who needed funds; with an unhealthy liking for - active - junior student associates. Anna considered the new scheme to be solid. It was a pity Febr had defected to the opposition, as he would have made an ideal candidate. Anna was surprised to realise she suffered a mild pang of jealousy at the thought; the Professor was too good for the likes of Shimoo, somebody less worthy, somebody less eminent would do quite well enough!
Sometime later Anna sighed after scanning the principle Hive derived data left by the Messenger Drone. It would appear Gregor had patched his local terminal (in the High Tower) into the stations security system. He was running monitors on all the CAO staff members including his PA downloading directly almost in real time from the Sealed Secure Data Stores. It was technically another illegal hack (although he was using legit command keys) Gregor was nonetheless bypassing the security desk clearance protocols. For the sake of Corporate Legality Gregor needed permission from the head of the stations security department ‘Commander Carl’ or a remit from central AF on Argon Prime. Gregor had received neither before commencing to run his own private little surveillance operation.
Luckily Anna’s Hive derived routines installed with the unwitting aid of Iyn had stitched over any illicit activity by the PA. Anna’s counter espionage software employed constant updated smoothly melded records (in these Anna undertook various passive routines) as required. Talk about who watches the watchmen. Even as Anna viewed her own illicit download of Gregor watching a false image of her self idly reading a BBS news report on her computer pad; in actually Anna was making ready to watch Gregor watching the fictional feed of his PA. Such loops were enough to bend any - less disciplined - mind through unhealthy angles, but Anna was getting all too used to it!
Anna hoped Gregor didn’t keep it up for too long though. Even the almost miraculous Hive written routines (kindly installed via the back door Iyn had unwittingly put in the system) were still working with Centrals limited Argon capacity hardware. Anna relentlessly employed this access to control, patch, and download extra data, and further updates as required into the ICCS but worried about potential glitches, and / or future slowdown. The algorithms were beautiful constructs but not perfect. Anna often noticed they stitched over some innocent undertakings, [at least she considered them innocent] and occasionally let other slightly dodgy stuff fly.
At least Anna knew these audiovisual story constructs would always cover the most obvious priorities, such as periods when Anna deployed the Lure. In fact Anna was safe anytime she directly interacted with the ‘Hive access Core’. Anything Anna did in the privacy of her own cubicle was also currently flagged as high risk, and covered almost entirely by generated fictions. These stayed pretty close to the ongoing reality but only ever showed the PA performing innocuous expected activities, and routine tasks.
Now Anna had Gregor’s illicit hack logged it was always future ammunition. Perhaps she would have this information leaked directly to Carl’s own secure monitors. The Commander could use it to reassert his own specific regional authority; would Carl be willing to resort to blackmail? Anna wouldn’t put it behind him it was after all just a bit of arm-twisting. Even Gregor as an Administrator was bound by AF rules of conduct his activities limited within the specific division of his role.
Of course Administrators had a wider remit than anyone on the station but it was not boundless. Gregor had made a mistake he should have consulted Carl first! It was good intelligence the best Anna had scooped in a while. Still how would the already unstable Gregor react to being caught out, and dressed down, it would be another slap to that all too brittle ego! No Anna would log it and keep it safe until she had consulted with Mynae. In the meantime it was back to the diabolical ANI advice.
Gregor took a break from scanning his monitoring routines to use the facilities. After cleaning up from his toilet Gregor feeling a little shaky gave himself another shot. With the drugs effects smoothing out his path he exited back under the scrutiny of his own appointed guard. He considered sending the guard outside to join his compatriot in the corridor. It was a little inconvenient having the Argon so close to him while he worked. Gregor worried the imported guard might see too much!
Unfortunately he no longer felt entirely safe on his own, what if an assassin or assassins arrived by GTD into his suite. After all that Hiko Elm had used a Goner Transport Device to escape detention, what can get out can also get in. No he would just have to put up with the prying guard. Hopefully being muscle the Argon wouldn’t appreciate any subtle bending of the rules undertaken by the Administrator - even if it took place right under his nose.
He should be safe enough. In a way it was good to keep a close eye on his protection too. That way he could ensure they weren’t co-opted by any rivals, and or potential enemies. Gregor still trusted Jolo - at least - so he trusted the Argon Prime security, within reason. Sitting down again he resumed watching Anna, he enjoyed watching his PA like this, Gregor found this activity quite exciting. Like spying on his parents come Present Giving when he was a child, only more adult! It was a pity the feed didn’t cover the shower area what lay beneath that females covered exterior had always fascinated Gregor. His PA while sounding so warm had somehow remained frigid to all his advances.
Still it was important not to be distracted from his real business. Gregor was convinced that the spy Hiko Elm had to have another confederate on the inside, someone who warned him he was under surveillance. Gregor would catch that traitor too. At this rate the Argon Military would have to think about giving him a medal - perhaps something for outstanding civilian service to the Federation! He imagined being brought before the Senate, decorated for his dedication. That would be one in the eye for the more decrepit and ill-advised members of the ArgonForge Board.
Last edited by Paranoid66 on Mon, 21. Apr 08, 20:38, edited 1 time in total.
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Paranoid66
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chapter 34
Reapers Passage
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 34 – A Stain of Blood in the Water
In one Sector of space that was otherwise operating normally Nois Skuit ejected from his badly damaged Caiman, and cursing out a stream of invective in his own tongue jetted away from the scene of his disgrace. The covert pirate scum had mobbed him; the tired old male Split had never had a chance. His solitary wingman in the scorpion had been the first to go; raped by an unexpected missile hit. Then the enemy had been all over him circling strafing, and burning into his shields.
It had been a cowardly way to do battle that ambush en-masse! There was no communication, no skilful threats, no blood rising taunts, no formal challenge, and little evident mercy not that any Split expected or desired that particular pale virtue. Nois Skuit and all his kind spat on any benison favoured by the weak. Soft emotions belonged to the lost and flaccid races such as the ever-simpering Boron!
Nonetheless, the sheer vehemence of the assault had panicked Nois, watching first his shield, and then his hull integrity being almost instantly vaporised under the blistering onslaught. Nois Skuit had little opportunity for consideration before he cursed himself with life. Somebody had to survive to report this unexpected attack. The Split Merchant ejected. Nois must live, despite the cold stigma of shame that would settle on his bones.
Nois would just have to shoulder the pain of entrapping the sword of his angry fiery soul in the icy sheaf. Nois was busy considering how he could possibly manage - to face his noble family with this ill fate - when the Teladi Falcon bore down on the elder one with wrath. The fierce creature smiled despite the sure demise. For good or ill - the vexation caused by the consideration of a familiar reunion would, in his case, not apply after all!
The Split in his sculpted sleek metallic red vacuum suit impacted on the 125mj shield as an oversized uncooked egg might impact upon a heavy bulkhead. What was left the somewhat flattened shell, mangled, and principally divided in two parts; slipped free to tumble, and spin into the void venting atmosphere, and leaking from one still relatively intact but damaged tank. The corpse of Nois Skuit exposed to the ultimate emptiness must slowly freeze despite the insulation of the vacuum. After the cooling - dependant on its final destination - the remnants fate was unknown, perhaps unknowable.
After claiming their prize, and sending it away on autopilot, the Sharks jumped to their next pre arranged sector. Sidling up innocently they selected another target of opportunity, to spear their next prey as a shoal of razor fish might chew upon a single behemoth. With blood in the water a feeding frenzy was inevitable.
Uoolasdis Sssiabaxis watched a group of unmarked unremarkable ships - not even flying in formation - suddenly sweep in upon a lone Caiman blasting it into a cloud of sparkling debris before veering away. The female Teladi Trader had never seen anything quite like this before. None of the vessels had the usual tell tale pirate IFF, and had kept closed communications; it reminded her of the mindless brutality of the Khaak! The ship types however varied from a Teladi Falcon hauler with the odd Argon label of ‘The Merry’ to a Scorpion claiming to be a Taxi service alongside two Argon Busters, one supposedly an Interior decorator (of all things) the other a civilian Pilot. Last in the list were a Boron Barracuda, and an Argon Discoverer Hauler; both of the latter were simply designated as escorts. Escorts to the under side of existence to the Reapers Passage, thought Uoolasdis!
The Teladi in her second hand (cunningly disguised, only outwardly battered) Vulture stopped dead. Uoolasdis made ready to activate her most prized upgrade her Goner Jump Drive. If the rogues moved toward her bearing she would simply vanish. Uool hated spending energy cells. Uool only happily employed the JD for the necessity of gaining bonuses from especially tight deadlines. All other uses of the Goner technology was a loss of credits but it was better than losing her entire cargo, her ship, or the hatchery forbid her most valuable life! Fatefully the unknown assailants just moved off, Sssiabaxis following them on camera watching closely as the attackers exited one by one through the west gate in a staggered apparently non-existent formation of lone hunters.
Uoolasdis wondered had she witnessed a mercenary assassination hit of some kind. Still (despite feeling wary and a little shaken) she logged the event before she resumed her own journey - information was credits – Sssiabaxis could always find a buyer for any record of a suitably odd occurrence somewhere! As ever another races misfortune would prove a Teladi’s gain, the female saurian pilot smiled.
It was the nature of the universe to provide opportunities - the nature of any true Teladi to grasp these gifts with both claws! ‘Ssshuase asasyugss sssuyshdhvs’, she quoted, roughly translated the phrase might read ‘profit cycles growth’ however in the subtle trade tongue of the Teladi the phrase was a closed loop in itself. To a Teladi and not some degenerate lowlife alien – that didn’t know one end of a credit chip from another - ‘Ssshuase asasyugss sssuyshdvs’ meant profit cycles growth cycles profit in a perfect unbroken eternal ring!
Although mocked by the other races as scavengers, and worse the Teladi were perfectionists. The reptilian saurian species just had a different set of criteria. For example: in relation to their ships they believed in function over aesthetics, and in their actions business before pride! All the other races were fools and frequently fooled by the Teladi – the Teladi actually enjoyed being underestimated – it was good for profitsss.
The Fallen Angels at last arrived back at Priests Pity and set in a vector for the Anarchy Port. Tur Ryn pilot of the ‘Vendetta’, and acting Arch Fallen Angel was on a mission. Tur was rather in two minds (on one hand very content on the other not a happy bandit lord at all) he wanted answers and he didn’t care how much manure he had to shovel or monster worms crush to get it.
During the flight back from the Depot, Tur had made a fateful decision. Tur had decided to use his loathing of the Tri Eyed to his advantage. Tur was in a cruel, and vindictive mindset he didn’t care if he had to slaughter the entire blood light hued stations crew. The Fallen Angel anointed successor of Jorac had made two late promises, the Pirate Leader fully planned to keep both oaths despite his prior obligations.
Tur had been off preparing for war at his masters command. He had been given full access to the last of the Angels separate War Fund (using this and Jorac’s reputation he had commenced refilling the Angels sorely depleted ranks) now Tur was but late returned (invigorated) after uncovering the final secret of Jorac’s hidden arms depot. The slight delay to his immediate: search and destroy, locate, and rescue missions had proved anything but a mistake.
If the surviving Paranid refused to cooperate – in full - they were in for an even nastier shock! Before discovering, and recovering the equipment Tur had doubted his chances with the worms, now everything had changed! As Jorac instructed the only way to negotiate was from a position of complete dominance; the alternatives favoured by others was just tantamount to a protracted surrender. Despite the newfound gulf inside Tur, he now truly believed that as long as the Clan survived, Jorac must live on. Legends are made of sterner stuff than mere exploding flesh, and bone.
The Paranid Pirates after the standard hail welcomed the Fallen Angels onboard; that considered Tur was there third, and perhaps final mistake. The first two errors had been the casual - self-obsessed, arrogant, betrayal (lack of protection / faith) - with Jorac and then his sister. Tur could almost feel his new neural implant pulsing with agitation. As far as Tur was concerned the overly insular Paranid here had defecated upon the Pirate accord; the rules that kept the peace of the Pirate Free Ports, now they would reap the folly of the seed they had sown.
The painted Argon Nova ‘Vendetta’ settled upon the decks ship lift innocently enough. Inside the still vessel though Tur’s inner ear was filled with raving motivations; the voices were singing a whispered dark invocation to a prophetic sacrificial slaughter. This cycle would be a fitful new beginning for the Devil Clans proper rebirth! In all probability they would rise in fire, and blood, and claim this place for their own, Jorac had considered this option long ago!
By an extreme act of will for two cycles Tur had given the Paranid their second chance while his men covertly made final preparations for their brutal assault. If the Monsters had co-operated he might even have stayed the fiery sword but they had not. Now he hovered down a darkened corridor in an all black Elite suit of super heavy powered armour searchlight streaming. Everything was shut down (The Fallen Angels had completely disrupted the stations power grid) this had been the first of their hostile actions.
Only units disconnected from the system when the closed EMP burst had been introduced remained serviceable. Unfortunately for the Paranid, but fortunately for him his Argon had also physically cut the primary links to the secondary, and tertiary back up generators. Only individual mobile generator systems could be employed, and these had limited functionality. There continued a minor battle against free roaming repair drones trying to re-establish the power lines, but that was just target practice for his less experienced troops.
The stations CSS [central computer system] was still active running on backup battery power, but it was limited in what it could do with no juice flowing in its wider sub systems, automated defences, remote scanners, servo motors, and so on. It was a station design flaw. Truly modern complexes for example: had multiple rechargeable battery stores for emergency function on every single powered unit. The Pirate Paranid had cut costs in the wrong place for their own reasons. The assault plan had been an idle fancy Jorac had drawn up on some whim of boredom - during a previous visit - when he realised this weakness in the stations security system.
Behind Tur hovered one shielded, and compact Mobile Power Unit. This was his personal skeleton key through the bulkhead doors although they operated by strange means that reminded him in part of muscles, and tendons they could still be jacked. With the power plant Tur could operate manual hydraulic systems. Outside his insulating suit the dark station was slowly getting cold it amused the Arch Fallen Angel to consider it would become a Paranid’s version of a frozen Hell!
Tur flicked through his HUD overlay tactical maps noting the progress of his widely scattered almost fully deployed forces. So far everything was going well only one regrettable hand to hand incident had generated a significant casualty on his side. He had lost a valuable computer expert on that one. The fool using a mobile power unit had given himself life support, and cracked out of his suit in what he thought was a sealed, and hostile free area.
Beva intent on his hack had been literally ripped to pieces by the concealed Paranid that had been hiding against the wall in a camouflaged stealth suit. The failure of the important hack had set Tur’s schedule back - a little - so he was personally on his way (with a spare two Argon support unit) to remedy this fact. After the loss of Beva from the net Tur had been able to rerun the killed Fallen Angels last recorded moments via Beva’s abandoned suits still active camera drone. The lad’s vicious dissection had been far from painless or instantaneous.
Mokamallad faded back into active camouflage, and considered his options. Apparently the Priest Emperors investigative agent had arrived on station at a time of ill omen despite all the readings. Then again maybe it was fortunate as it had a unique opportunity to gather intelligence on what was obviously an extraordinary event in this Ports History. Staying in this space was not an option, Moka realised it needed mobility, but using the door was too obvious.
Moka called up a detailed schematic it initiated the ‘Clinging Dark’ casting the whole area into a dense opaque black. Unseen it pulled back one bulky piece of apparatus and deployed a power hungry melter. After cutting its way into an adjacent access channel Moka went suspensor squeezing itself into an thin elongated shape the Flexi suit flowing with the Paranid then flipped over, and slipped into the hole backwards squirming around the pipes, and wiring.
Reaching out Mokamallad latched onto the back of the machine via built in powered magnetic clamp. Wedging itself in the alcove Moka employed its prodigious, and further suit enhanced strength to easily set the machine back in place obscuring the hole. Then like some twisted insect contortionist squirmed about and slipped away from the site of the execution of the intruder.
Killing the Argon had been a foolish impulse. It would have been better to remain hidden but even the slaughter of - Piratical - Paranid by these alien upstarts had offended him beyond his momentary self control. It was one thing for the Emperors servants to discipline his own, another for the Argon to dare intervene upon Paranid sovereign space in this manner; the heathen Argon could not be allowed to so transgress without paying a homage price! Mokamallad would be content with a few more souls to take back to his Lord as a small propitiation. Three would be the proper, and correct number then it would be content to sit the rest of the action out as a mere observer.
By the time Tur arrived with his team the ‘Clinging Dark’ had dispersed. Nervously they scanned poked, and prodded even fired a few controlled bursts - around the lit powered area - in search of their protagonist. Eventually they had to admit the Paranid was gone. Tur suspected it must have somehow transported out. Bevas body was a mess pulped and torn. Beside it blood was scrawled into some strange ritualistic Paranid markings - no doubt a vain attempt at psychological warfare. Nonetheless, Tur noticed Karac, and Jess giving the sign the eye, and how both recruits avoided the spot as if it harboured a live mine.
“Forget that three eyed hokum,” said Tur, “get on with the job at hand. At least the barbarian didn’t steal B’s computer pad or destroy it. That should make our job a little easier.”
“I’m not sure that is a good idea Tur, that Paranid might have put a virus in or even rigged it in some other way. Camouflage units are very rare outside Paranid Special Forces I wouldn’t be inclined to accept any thing here on face value!” said Jess eyeing the pad like it might explode at any moment.
Tur could have kicked himself the new female recruit was right he was getting overconfident. No doubt the result of all the new firepower, and the fact that he was still adjusting to the massed input from the new neural net, “Ok we’ll do it the hard way then, you happy with that Jess?” Tur asked
“Sure. It will take a little longer but after this,” Jess gestured to the body, “I’d rather be safe than sorry!”
“Fine with me good call, I appreciate well founded opinions backed by options. Well done I will be keeping an eye on you,” Tur said warmly.
“Thanks boss just doing my bit. Ok here goes,” she said linking her pad in. “Ah,” she said, “as I suspected this one is going to take a while,” replied Jess.
“Ok I’m going to set up a temporary base of Operations here. It’s as good a site as any. I’ll bring in a few additional hands for added security. Once we have the full main system control hack we can reinitiate backup power, and use the stations own security measures against the surviving Nid. Then it should just be a question of mopping up except for hunting down the big game,” she said (thinking of that Paranid Agent).
“I guess we dare not just ignore the Camouflaged fek,” said Tur, “chances are someone like that will just flit off station to report home,” which the new Arch Fallen Angel thought could be bad enough. The idea that it might decide to stay, and play might nonetheless be even worse! Curse it anyway, what was a legit Paranid (if it was?) doing on the Pirate Anarchy Port anyway apart from messing with his plans?
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 34 – A Stain of Blood in the Water
In one Sector of space that was otherwise operating normally Nois Skuit ejected from his badly damaged Caiman, and cursing out a stream of invective in his own tongue jetted away from the scene of his disgrace. The covert pirate scum had mobbed him; the tired old male Split had never had a chance. His solitary wingman in the scorpion had been the first to go; raped by an unexpected missile hit. Then the enemy had been all over him circling strafing, and burning into his shields.
It had been a cowardly way to do battle that ambush en-masse! There was no communication, no skilful threats, no blood rising taunts, no formal challenge, and little evident mercy not that any Split expected or desired that particular pale virtue. Nois Skuit and all his kind spat on any benison favoured by the weak. Soft emotions belonged to the lost and flaccid races such as the ever-simpering Boron!
Nonetheless, the sheer vehemence of the assault had panicked Nois, watching first his shield, and then his hull integrity being almost instantly vaporised under the blistering onslaught. Nois Skuit had little opportunity for consideration before he cursed himself with life. Somebody had to survive to report this unexpected attack. The Split Merchant ejected. Nois must live, despite the cold stigma of shame that would settle on his bones.
Nois would just have to shoulder the pain of entrapping the sword of his angry fiery soul in the icy sheaf. Nois was busy considering how he could possibly manage - to face his noble family with this ill fate - when the Teladi Falcon bore down on the elder one with wrath. The fierce creature smiled despite the sure demise. For good or ill - the vexation caused by the consideration of a familiar reunion would, in his case, not apply after all!
The Split in his sculpted sleek metallic red vacuum suit impacted on the 125mj shield as an oversized uncooked egg might impact upon a heavy bulkhead. What was left the somewhat flattened shell, mangled, and principally divided in two parts; slipped free to tumble, and spin into the void venting atmosphere, and leaking from one still relatively intact but damaged tank. The corpse of Nois Skuit exposed to the ultimate emptiness must slowly freeze despite the insulation of the vacuum. After the cooling - dependant on its final destination - the remnants fate was unknown, perhaps unknowable.
After claiming their prize, and sending it away on autopilot, the Sharks jumped to their next pre arranged sector. Sidling up innocently they selected another target of opportunity, to spear their next prey as a shoal of razor fish might chew upon a single behemoth. With blood in the water a feeding frenzy was inevitable.
Uoolasdis Sssiabaxis watched a group of unmarked unremarkable ships - not even flying in formation - suddenly sweep in upon a lone Caiman blasting it into a cloud of sparkling debris before veering away. The female Teladi Trader had never seen anything quite like this before. None of the vessels had the usual tell tale pirate IFF, and had kept closed communications; it reminded her of the mindless brutality of the Khaak! The ship types however varied from a Teladi Falcon hauler with the odd Argon label of ‘The Merry’ to a Scorpion claiming to be a Taxi service alongside two Argon Busters, one supposedly an Interior decorator (of all things) the other a civilian Pilot. Last in the list were a Boron Barracuda, and an Argon Discoverer Hauler; both of the latter were simply designated as escorts. Escorts to the under side of existence to the Reapers Passage, thought Uoolasdis!
The Teladi in her second hand (cunningly disguised, only outwardly battered) Vulture stopped dead. Uoolasdis made ready to activate her most prized upgrade her Goner Jump Drive. If the rogues moved toward her bearing she would simply vanish. Uool hated spending energy cells. Uool only happily employed the JD for the necessity of gaining bonuses from especially tight deadlines. All other uses of the Goner technology was a loss of credits but it was better than losing her entire cargo, her ship, or the hatchery forbid her most valuable life! Fatefully the unknown assailants just moved off, Sssiabaxis following them on camera watching closely as the attackers exited one by one through the west gate in a staggered apparently non-existent formation of lone hunters.
Uoolasdis wondered had she witnessed a mercenary assassination hit of some kind. Still (despite feeling wary and a little shaken) she logged the event before she resumed her own journey - information was credits – Sssiabaxis could always find a buyer for any record of a suitably odd occurrence somewhere! As ever another races misfortune would prove a Teladi’s gain, the female saurian pilot smiled.
It was the nature of the universe to provide opportunities - the nature of any true Teladi to grasp these gifts with both claws! ‘Ssshuase asasyugss sssuyshdhvs’, she quoted, roughly translated the phrase might read ‘profit cycles growth’ however in the subtle trade tongue of the Teladi the phrase was a closed loop in itself. To a Teladi and not some degenerate lowlife alien – that didn’t know one end of a credit chip from another - ‘Ssshuase asasyugss sssuyshdvs’ meant profit cycles growth cycles profit in a perfect unbroken eternal ring!
Although mocked by the other races as scavengers, and worse the Teladi were perfectionists. The reptilian saurian species just had a different set of criteria. For example: in relation to their ships they believed in function over aesthetics, and in their actions business before pride! All the other races were fools and frequently fooled by the Teladi – the Teladi actually enjoyed being underestimated – it was good for profitsss.
The Fallen Angels at last arrived back at Priests Pity and set in a vector for the Anarchy Port. Tur Ryn pilot of the ‘Vendetta’, and acting Arch Fallen Angel was on a mission. Tur was rather in two minds (on one hand very content on the other not a happy bandit lord at all) he wanted answers and he didn’t care how much manure he had to shovel or monster worms crush to get it.
During the flight back from the Depot, Tur had made a fateful decision. Tur had decided to use his loathing of the Tri Eyed to his advantage. Tur was in a cruel, and vindictive mindset he didn’t care if he had to slaughter the entire blood light hued stations crew. The Fallen Angel anointed successor of Jorac had made two late promises, the Pirate Leader fully planned to keep both oaths despite his prior obligations.
Tur had been off preparing for war at his masters command. He had been given full access to the last of the Angels separate War Fund (using this and Jorac’s reputation he had commenced refilling the Angels sorely depleted ranks) now Tur was but late returned (invigorated) after uncovering the final secret of Jorac’s hidden arms depot. The slight delay to his immediate: search and destroy, locate, and rescue missions had proved anything but a mistake.
If the surviving Paranid refused to cooperate – in full - they were in for an even nastier shock! Before discovering, and recovering the equipment Tur had doubted his chances with the worms, now everything had changed! As Jorac instructed the only way to negotiate was from a position of complete dominance; the alternatives favoured by others was just tantamount to a protracted surrender. Despite the newfound gulf inside Tur, he now truly believed that as long as the Clan survived, Jorac must live on. Legends are made of sterner stuff than mere exploding flesh, and bone.
The Paranid Pirates after the standard hail welcomed the Fallen Angels onboard; that considered Tur was there third, and perhaps final mistake. The first two errors had been the casual - self-obsessed, arrogant, betrayal (lack of protection / faith) - with Jorac and then his sister. Tur could almost feel his new neural implant pulsing with agitation. As far as Tur was concerned the overly insular Paranid here had defecated upon the Pirate accord; the rules that kept the peace of the Pirate Free Ports, now they would reap the folly of the seed they had sown.
The painted Argon Nova ‘Vendetta’ settled upon the decks ship lift innocently enough. Inside the still vessel though Tur’s inner ear was filled with raving motivations; the voices were singing a whispered dark invocation to a prophetic sacrificial slaughter. This cycle would be a fitful new beginning for the Devil Clans proper rebirth! In all probability they would rise in fire, and blood, and claim this place for their own, Jorac had considered this option long ago!
By an extreme act of will for two cycles Tur had given the Paranid their second chance while his men covertly made final preparations for their brutal assault. If the Monsters had co-operated he might even have stayed the fiery sword but they had not. Now he hovered down a darkened corridor in an all black Elite suit of super heavy powered armour searchlight streaming. Everything was shut down (The Fallen Angels had completely disrupted the stations power grid) this had been the first of their hostile actions.
Only units disconnected from the system when the closed EMP burst had been introduced remained serviceable. Unfortunately for the Paranid, but fortunately for him his Argon had also physically cut the primary links to the secondary, and tertiary back up generators. Only individual mobile generator systems could be employed, and these had limited functionality. There continued a minor battle against free roaming repair drones trying to re-establish the power lines, but that was just target practice for his less experienced troops.
The stations CSS [central computer system] was still active running on backup battery power, but it was limited in what it could do with no juice flowing in its wider sub systems, automated defences, remote scanners, servo motors, and so on. It was a station design flaw. Truly modern complexes for example: had multiple rechargeable battery stores for emergency function on every single powered unit. The Pirate Paranid had cut costs in the wrong place for their own reasons. The assault plan had been an idle fancy Jorac had drawn up on some whim of boredom - during a previous visit - when he realised this weakness in the stations security system.
Behind Tur hovered one shielded, and compact Mobile Power Unit. This was his personal skeleton key through the bulkhead doors although they operated by strange means that reminded him in part of muscles, and tendons they could still be jacked. With the power plant Tur could operate manual hydraulic systems. Outside his insulating suit the dark station was slowly getting cold it amused the Arch Fallen Angel to consider it would become a Paranid’s version of a frozen Hell!
Tur flicked through his HUD overlay tactical maps noting the progress of his widely scattered almost fully deployed forces. So far everything was going well only one regrettable hand to hand incident had generated a significant casualty on his side. He had lost a valuable computer expert on that one. The fool using a mobile power unit had given himself life support, and cracked out of his suit in what he thought was a sealed, and hostile free area.
Beva intent on his hack had been literally ripped to pieces by the concealed Paranid that had been hiding against the wall in a camouflaged stealth suit. The failure of the important hack had set Tur’s schedule back - a little - so he was personally on his way (with a spare two Argon support unit) to remedy this fact. After the loss of Beva from the net Tur had been able to rerun the killed Fallen Angels last recorded moments via Beva’s abandoned suits still active camera drone. The lad’s vicious dissection had been far from painless or instantaneous.
Mokamallad faded back into active camouflage, and considered his options. Apparently the Priest Emperors investigative agent had arrived on station at a time of ill omen despite all the readings. Then again maybe it was fortunate as it had a unique opportunity to gather intelligence on what was obviously an extraordinary event in this Ports History. Staying in this space was not an option, Moka realised it needed mobility, but using the door was too obvious.
Moka called up a detailed schematic it initiated the ‘Clinging Dark’ casting the whole area into a dense opaque black. Unseen it pulled back one bulky piece of apparatus and deployed a power hungry melter. After cutting its way into an adjacent access channel Moka went suspensor squeezing itself into an thin elongated shape the Flexi suit flowing with the Paranid then flipped over, and slipped into the hole backwards squirming around the pipes, and wiring.
Reaching out Mokamallad latched onto the back of the machine via built in powered magnetic clamp. Wedging itself in the alcove Moka employed its prodigious, and further suit enhanced strength to easily set the machine back in place obscuring the hole. Then like some twisted insect contortionist squirmed about and slipped away from the site of the execution of the intruder.
Killing the Argon had been a foolish impulse. It would have been better to remain hidden but even the slaughter of - Piratical - Paranid by these alien upstarts had offended him beyond his momentary self control. It was one thing for the Emperors servants to discipline his own, another for the Argon to dare intervene upon Paranid sovereign space in this manner; the heathen Argon could not be allowed to so transgress without paying a homage price! Mokamallad would be content with a few more souls to take back to his Lord as a small propitiation. Three would be the proper, and correct number then it would be content to sit the rest of the action out as a mere observer.
By the time Tur arrived with his team the ‘Clinging Dark’ had dispersed. Nervously they scanned poked, and prodded even fired a few controlled bursts - around the lit powered area - in search of their protagonist. Eventually they had to admit the Paranid was gone. Tur suspected it must have somehow transported out. Bevas body was a mess pulped and torn. Beside it blood was scrawled into some strange ritualistic Paranid markings - no doubt a vain attempt at psychological warfare. Nonetheless, Tur noticed Karac, and Jess giving the sign the eye, and how both recruits avoided the spot as if it harboured a live mine.
“Forget that three eyed hokum,” said Tur, “get on with the job at hand. At least the barbarian didn’t steal B’s computer pad or destroy it. That should make our job a little easier.”
“I’m not sure that is a good idea Tur, that Paranid might have put a virus in or even rigged it in some other way. Camouflage units are very rare outside Paranid Special Forces I wouldn’t be inclined to accept any thing here on face value!” said Jess eyeing the pad like it might explode at any moment.
Tur could have kicked himself the new female recruit was right he was getting overconfident. No doubt the result of all the new firepower, and the fact that he was still adjusting to the massed input from the new neural net, “Ok we’ll do it the hard way then, you happy with that Jess?” Tur asked
“Sure. It will take a little longer but after this,” Jess gestured to the body, “I’d rather be safe than sorry!”
“Fine with me good call, I appreciate well founded opinions backed by options. Well done I will be keeping an eye on you,” Tur said warmly.
“Thanks boss just doing my bit. Ok here goes,” she said linking her pad in. “Ah,” she said, “as I suspected this one is going to take a while,” replied Jess.
“Ok I’m going to set up a temporary base of Operations here. It’s as good a site as any. I’ll bring in a few additional hands for added security. Once we have the full main system control hack we can reinitiate backup power, and use the stations own security measures against the surviving Nid. Then it should just be a question of mopping up except for hunting down the big game,” she said (thinking of that Paranid Agent).
“I guess we dare not just ignore the Camouflaged fek,” said Tur, “chances are someone like that will just flit off station to report home,” which the new Arch Fallen Angel thought could be bad enough. The idea that it might decide to stay, and play might nonetheless be even worse! Curse it anyway, what was a legit Paranid (if it was?) doing on the Pirate Anarchy Port anyway apart from messing with his plans?
Last edited by Paranoid66 on Mon, 21. Apr 08, 20:39, edited 1 time in total.
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Paranoid66
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chapter 35
Reapers Passage
X3 Fan Fiction by paranoid66
Chapter 35 – A Home Run
Garrin was just as happy to be leaving AFC 4, as he had been to arrive a few cycles ago! How quickly circumstances could change, G felt as if he had aged years during his last stay. He was certainly aware of having grown a little broader of girth in the short period - his pilot suit felt a little uncomfortably tight until he adjusted its straps. The ‘Grim Reaper’ when he checked his cargo manifest was just about empty which was something he usually avoided, but this mission was time critical – so he had been told – so all he needed was the energy cells donated by Anna Dei on behalf of her unspecified AF [ArgonForge] client.
Well it was a quick jump to the Boron Sector of Kingdom End to collect some worthy Professor from the Boron Trade station there, then another jump back. In real time it would be nothing more than a minor distraction. Luckily Anna had a few meatier proposals following this simple Taxi service. Apparently the visitor was a rather well known underwater research archaeologist - which gave Garrin a cunning idea - the fare sounded like just what he needed to get Shimoo out of his hair.
G had no idea why this fellow had a yearning to visit a weapons forge, but he suspected he was tracking down one of the onboard VIP’s in search of funding. Garrin knew that the sciences had some unexpected crossovers; archaeology, and weapons technology disciplines were not necessarily as far apart as one might imagine!
He wondered what ancient equipment might yet lay buried in the depths of a Boron ocean. He recalled myths, and legends about the fishes being cultivated by Helpers. Visited, and educated by an unknown but highly developed alien race that vanished when the floaters took up arms to defend themselves against the Split. Even if the Helpers had truly been pacifists that does not mean their science did not have potential adaptive offensive or defensive capabilities.
Still it didn’t pay to be too curious about such matters. Garrin certainly wouldn’t be making enquiries from his passenger. He was too aware of the Grim Reaper that wasn’t his ship standing behind his shoulder to go provoking the wrong sort of attention when it came to sensitive material - Garrin had heard grizzly stories about Argon Intelligence clean up programs. What he might be able to do though was innocently introduce Shimoo to his passenger. If all went well he could hope that this might distract the student, giving him some space in which to breathe. Something about the way Anna had handed this one off made G think, perhaps the PA was deliberately doing him a favour in more ways than one. It was a little knot in the often-loose strings of destiny.
“Baby, activate Jump Drive Sequence to ‘Kingdom End’ then take us to within six k’s of the Boron Trade station there,” requested Garrin.
“Jump, and move to position activated,” said Baby, “Jump Drive charging ten percent, twenty percent…”
Garrin sat back enjoying the isolation of being alone on his ship, well discounting Baby - which wasn’t too difficult - as Baby was just some software routines. Apart from the now familiar increased Boron traffic, and Argon Fleet activity the Sector of ‘Elena’s Fortune’ just showed standard civilian traffic. Garrin activated some soothing music, and waited for the Jump, and the standard cockpit black out polarisation.
Upon arrival G remembered why he was something of a fan of Kingdom End. Garrin considered it one of the more beautiful Grid Sectors. Of course part of this attraction might be the sleek boron ships themselves. Somehow they just seemed to glide more than the vessels of any rival race. Also the way their semi organic green hulls scintillated, the warm textures that made you wish you could put your hand upon them. Finally there was something angelic and peaceful about the way the light was diffused here by the sectors nebulous gases. Yes it was a picturesque setting harmonious in an alien difficult to fully define manner even given his basic guesswork.
Moving into visual range, Garrin noted how the new Boron Trade station designs were peculiar looking affairs. Though the modern models were not as odd as the style they had replaced. Garrin had hated the old Boron Trade stations - deeming them navigational hazards - with their curling spiked tentacle limbs. The limbs on the old design had rotated in a most alarming fashion too as if reaching outward to cut you up.
The new designs looked much more compact, and sensible, and were a lot less troublesome! These reminded him of giant abandoned aquatic snail shells an altogether more passive image. After Baby had stopped the Reaper at the designated distance G took over the controls, requested permission to dock, and eased his ship in under the extending docking clamp manually. Being in a hurry he didn’t even disembark he simply communicated his arrival to Hyaegin, and waited. Garrin’s passenger soon transported directly aboard along with a few small units of luggage.
“Welcome to the ‘Grim Reaper’ Professor H,” smiled Garrin.
“Yes, the ‘Grim Reaper’ a rather aggressive name for a courier,” replied the recent arrival taking one of the small - fold down - rear seats rather than the also empty permanent co pilot one up front.
“It helps to remind me that the best way to avoid trouble is sometimes to stare it straight in the eye,” noted Garrin over his shoulder.
“Lets hope so,” said Hyaegin, “I really hate unproductive distractions, but even science is a slave to the almighty credit,” he sighed.
“Don’t worry this will be a very short trip - time wise - via Jump Drive,” stated G.
“Remarkable what they can fit into a small craft these days,” said the Academic with genuine wonder in his voice looking about the cabin.
“Ok strap yourself in, here we go,” said Garrin dropping from the clamp he angling down, and boosting away in one smooth stick action.
“Well that’s rather fun,” noted the Professor, “I usually go everywhere by more sedate TP [Passenger Transport] liner,” he noted.
“Best prepare for the jump,” Garrin warned, “Baby do the honours.”
“Jump drive initiated, charging ten percent, twenty percent,” began the computer.
“So what is it like on AFC 4,” asked the Professor with only mild curiosity.
“I guess that depends on who you are: command staff, guest, worker, refugee, prisoner or tourist,” said G with a laugh, “AFC 4 is an interesting place. It has quite a large habitat. Recently things have been a - bit - unusual what with the ‘Treason Trial’, and everything!”
“Of course it is… that station! I never realised. I knew something else about Four was significant I just couldn’t remember what,” the Professor noted.
“Oh AFC 4 attracts all sorts,” stated Garrin, “take my current partner for example Shimoo, she is a rather ambitious young archaeology student from Argon Prime!”
“Really,” said the Professor, “what a coincidence, perhaps you could introduce us,” Hyaegin said with a peculiar over obvious - poorly concealed - expression of greedy interest!
Oh yes Anna was definitely on his wing for some reason thought G, “Indeed I would be most happy to arrange that. Shimoo is very enthusiastic about her career I’m sure you will find her interest… stimulating!”
G shocked himself with his own double emphasis, just how much of the female did he think he was willingly handing off here, and why did he instinctively feel such an arrangement would be welcomed. He barely knew this Professor or was it just that he knew Shimoo too well? Why didn’t he feel the sting of any remorse or jealousy? Just how truly empty had his relationship been?
So I hear thought the Professor, “I always enjoy meeting fellow enthusiasts,” smoothly stated Garrins Passenger (getting a bit more control of him self).
Hyaegin wondered what the ArgonForge connection was to this Shimoo. Why were they willing to anonymously donate so much to boost her education? Could AF be trying to place a spy in his lowly operation? Did it matter? Without the credits he was just about dead in the water!
Hyaegin really needed that funding. The alternative was returning to just planning and dreaming of further expeditions - deep diving was an expensive business. An extra pair of hands could be useful too, particularly an attractive pair! Anyway forewarned is forearmed! While even Professor Hyaegin believed there was more to life than work. He was tired of having only the company of blubbery Boron - a beautiful able associate - would be more than welcome even he had to admit if Shimoo remained entirely professional.
Despite this Hyaegin hoped this Shimoo lived up to the image of the startling visual record he had been shown! That would be an extra bonus; today it was just too easy to fake these things, add a bit of height here, reduce or increase a bump there, add a bit of extra sparkle! In his time Hyaegin had suffered a few horrors from the deep, courtesy of trawling the Inter Link. In the end he had given up and gone back to seeking fulfilment more or less entirely from his chosen career, and those his projects attracted!
Diving used to be a great way to meet - interesting - Argon but not when you find yourself permanently stationed in Kingdom End! At the time it had seemed like a golden opportunity (unfortunately he had failed to make a quick breakthrough) then the bulk of his funding, and his support staff including his then (quite delicious young associate) partner had all ebbed away. Now it was a battle just to keep his tired old project alive, Hyaegin could live with being a failure perhaps, but he could not suffer failing simply because he had quit, Hyaegin was not a quitter!
There were still good leads to follow, deep ground to cover despite what others said! Nonetheless, he missed the good old days when fire, and water had still mixed. Not that he had actively pursued any of his previous - ah working - relationships they had been the natural melding of mind, and body fitting to mutual co-operation for mutual advancement! A total sharing of limited resources - it was all good value as far as he was concerned! Until this recent, and odd summoning by AF Hyaegin was beginning to feel as if he had been relegated, reduced to dwelling among the damp ashes of a once glorious existence.
Now he was being presented with a potentially delightful package of funding and assistance. Somebody in AF perhaps had a surplus of budget to expend, and or an interest in the Helpers or both. It was a puzzle but he was in no position to question not until he had his paws on the essential goods. For once Hyaegin had determined he wouldn’t rock the boat he would just grin, and be most very grateful!
With his passenger gone quiet and thoughtful G returned to the HUD and the image of the approaching forge complex. The Argon space station was a beautiful construction without doubt even if it was hard, and cold. Garrin wondered where the warm Elaen currently resided under that metal skin. If he did managed by some miracle to extricate himself from Shimoo without a fuss would it help his ultimate desire?
As they arrived into Elena’s Fortune a little traitor part of Garrin worried that he was on some mad double rebound, and maybe it would be better if he just concentrated on his business, but Elaen’s smiling face was haunting his thoughts much more than the ‘Grim Reaper’ at the moment. What about Ravn though that big guy didn’t seem like the type to gently step aside, nor was he likely to be easily pushed by such as myself, thought G. Maybe Anna’s assistance was just destined to rob him of the only delusional comfort he had left. Still wouldn’t it be better to turn back to the real universe, and stop living in a fantasy like that AVR he had returned to the store. If only Garrin knew what was true from what was poor estimates derived from the inaccurate data stream of warped perception, and hungry desire.
Self-doubt had never been one of his weaknesses, more likely a degree of over confidence based on a false belief in his own rational processes! All this daydreaming was dangerous too - luckily following his policy Baby only brought him into the 6k range of his destination then stopped. Nonetheless, G wasn’t impressed with his own lack of attention. Carelessness was habit forming - it didn’t pay to relax too much - not even on easy runs. Garrin felt like a shadow of his former self, and could almost hear his personal Soul Reaper laughing behind him as it sharpened its scythe for a culling!
In the Paranid Sector of Priests Pity Tur had succeeded in his aim. The Anarchy Port had fallen, but he was not entirely satisfied. The new Arch Fallen Angel (head of the Fallen Angel Clan of Pirates) had lost two more Argon, and his stealthy Paranid suspected Agent opponent had vanished without trace. Not even the reactivated security systems had assisted in tracking the Monster down. Tur feared the Paranid surveillance unit had been compromised, and would need to be very carefully purged, and reset with new routines, something Tur simply couldn’t do at this time.
Two more deaths, and four more injuries, well the worms were tough opponents even the normal ones. The injuries would heal but the loss of three new recruits was a painful blow. Nonetheless, the gains were substantial, even if the Port needed serious security overhauls. The Fallen Angels were back in business though they had found a strange place in which to nest.
Flanked by two guards since the unknown killer might still be on station Tur considered his current options, it was giving him a headache either that or the implants settling or both. Jorac’s plan would have worked like clockwork had it not been for their unexpected, and unwanted guest. Now Tur would have to improvise. The ease of the assassins egress meant all his clan were potentially at risk, everybody was now teamed up, and employing active multiple scanners.
Tur had dug out some remote combat drones from the supplies he had brought with him, and had a team using these in the stations nooks, and crannies hunting down even the smallest anomalous signal. So far they had killed off quite a few alien infestations no doubt the Paranid equivalent of rats, and other creepy crawlies but that was all. The Fallen Angels were being badly overstretched he needed more warm bodies. Tur wondered dared he use any on the other Pirate Argon on station? If only his best computer expert hadn’t been so careless. It was regrettable - his Argon had needed more time to become fully accustomed to the new armoured suits - but time had been leaking away like water from a damaged Floater’s encounter suit.
He wanted to get down to the business of interrogating the Paranid captives in the hope that they knew something about Kerry’s kidnapper. However, he dared not, not until he was sure that the suspected special operations agent was dead or departed! Tur had even tried using some lures putting out seeming lone individuals in high-risk areas but the Paranid hadn’t taken the bait. The last kill had been a while ago now, what was it up to? Could it have departed already perhaps via GTD to one of those legendary Paranid stealth ships? Tur felt like he was being forced into a waiting game this filled him with rage. He needed to find Kerry Tur was afraid something bad might have happened to her already!
X3 Fan Fiction by paranoid66
Chapter 35 – A Home Run
Garrin was just as happy to be leaving AFC 4, as he had been to arrive a few cycles ago! How quickly circumstances could change, G felt as if he had aged years during his last stay. He was certainly aware of having grown a little broader of girth in the short period - his pilot suit felt a little uncomfortably tight until he adjusted its straps. The ‘Grim Reaper’ when he checked his cargo manifest was just about empty which was something he usually avoided, but this mission was time critical – so he had been told – so all he needed was the energy cells donated by Anna Dei on behalf of her unspecified AF [ArgonForge] client.
Well it was a quick jump to the Boron Sector of Kingdom End to collect some worthy Professor from the Boron Trade station there, then another jump back. In real time it would be nothing more than a minor distraction. Luckily Anna had a few meatier proposals following this simple Taxi service. Apparently the visitor was a rather well known underwater research archaeologist - which gave Garrin a cunning idea - the fare sounded like just what he needed to get Shimoo out of his hair.
G had no idea why this fellow had a yearning to visit a weapons forge, but he suspected he was tracking down one of the onboard VIP’s in search of funding. Garrin knew that the sciences had some unexpected crossovers; archaeology, and weapons technology disciplines were not necessarily as far apart as one might imagine!
He wondered what ancient equipment might yet lay buried in the depths of a Boron ocean. He recalled myths, and legends about the fishes being cultivated by Helpers. Visited, and educated by an unknown but highly developed alien race that vanished when the floaters took up arms to defend themselves against the Split. Even if the Helpers had truly been pacifists that does not mean their science did not have potential adaptive offensive or defensive capabilities.
Still it didn’t pay to be too curious about such matters. Garrin certainly wouldn’t be making enquiries from his passenger. He was too aware of the Grim Reaper that wasn’t his ship standing behind his shoulder to go provoking the wrong sort of attention when it came to sensitive material - Garrin had heard grizzly stories about Argon Intelligence clean up programs. What he might be able to do though was innocently introduce Shimoo to his passenger. If all went well he could hope that this might distract the student, giving him some space in which to breathe. Something about the way Anna had handed this one off made G think, perhaps the PA was deliberately doing him a favour in more ways than one. It was a little knot in the often-loose strings of destiny.
“Baby, activate Jump Drive Sequence to ‘Kingdom End’ then take us to within six k’s of the Boron Trade station there,” requested Garrin.
“Jump, and move to position activated,” said Baby, “Jump Drive charging ten percent, twenty percent…”
Garrin sat back enjoying the isolation of being alone on his ship, well discounting Baby - which wasn’t too difficult - as Baby was just some software routines. Apart from the now familiar increased Boron traffic, and Argon Fleet activity the Sector of ‘Elena’s Fortune’ just showed standard civilian traffic. Garrin activated some soothing music, and waited for the Jump, and the standard cockpit black out polarisation.
Upon arrival G remembered why he was something of a fan of Kingdom End. Garrin considered it one of the more beautiful Grid Sectors. Of course part of this attraction might be the sleek boron ships themselves. Somehow they just seemed to glide more than the vessels of any rival race. Also the way their semi organic green hulls scintillated, the warm textures that made you wish you could put your hand upon them. Finally there was something angelic and peaceful about the way the light was diffused here by the sectors nebulous gases. Yes it was a picturesque setting harmonious in an alien difficult to fully define manner even given his basic guesswork.
Moving into visual range, Garrin noted how the new Boron Trade station designs were peculiar looking affairs. Though the modern models were not as odd as the style they had replaced. Garrin had hated the old Boron Trade stations - deeming them navigational hazards - with their curling spiked tentacle limbs. The limbs on the old design had rotated in a most alarming fashion too as if reaching outward to cut you up.
The new designs looked much more compact, and sensible, and were a lot less troublesome! These reminded him of giant abandoned aquatic snail shells an altogether more passive image. After Baby had stopped the Reaper at the designated distance G took over the controls, requested permission to dock, and eased his ship in under the extending docking clamp manually. Being in a hurry he didn’t even disembark he simply communicated his arrival to Hyaegin, and waited. Garrin’s passenger soon transported directly aboard along with a few small units of luggage.
“Welcome to the ‘Grim Reaper’ Professor H,” smiled Garrin.
“Yes, the ‘Grim Reaper’ a rather aggressive name for a courier,” replied the recent arrival taking one of the small - fold down - rear seats rather than the also empty permanent co pilot one up front.
“It helps to remind me that the best way to avoid trouble is sometimes to stare it straight in the eye,” noted Garrin over his shoulder.
“Lets hope so,” said Hyaegin, “I really hate unproductive distractions, but even science is a slave to the almighty credit,” he sighed.
“Don’t worry this will be a very short trip - time wise - via Jump Drive,” stated G.
“Remarkable what they can fit into a small craft these days,” said the Academic with genuine wonder in his voice looking about the cabin.
“Ok strap yourself in, here we go,” said Garrin dropping from the clamp he angling down, and boosting away in one smooth stick action.
“Well that’s rather fun,” noted the Professor, “I usually go everywhere by more sedate TP [Passenger Transport] liner,” he noted.
“Best prepare for the jump,” Garrin warned, “Baby do the honours.”
“Jump drive initiated, charging ten percent, twenty percent,” began the computer.
“So what is it like on AFC 4,” asked the Professor with only mild curiosity.
“I guess that depends on who you are: command staff, guest, worker, refugee, prisoner or tourist,” said G with a laugh, “AFC 4 is an interesting place. It has quite a large habitat. Recently things have been a - bit - unusual what with the ‘Treason Trial’, and everything!”
“Of course it is… that station! I never realised. I knew something else about Four was significant I just couldn’t remember what,” the Professor noted.
“Oh AFC 4 attracts all sorts,” stated Garrin, “take my current partner for example Shimoo, she is a rather ambitious young archaeology student from Argon Prime!”
“Really,” said the Professor, “what a coincidence, perhaps you could introduce us,” Hyaegin said with a peculiar over obvious - poorly concealed - expression of greedy interest!
Oh yes Anna was definitely on his wing for some reason thought G, “Indeed I would be most happy to arrange that. Shimoo is very enthusiastic about her career I’m sure you will find her interest… stimulating!”
G shocked himself with his own double emphasis, just how much of the female did he think he was willingly handing off here, and why did he instinctively feel such an arrangement would be welcomed. He barely knew this Professor or was it just that he knew Shimoo too well? Why didn’t he feel the sting of any remorse or jealousy? Just how truly empty had his relationship been?
So I hear thought the Professor, “I always enjoy meeting fellow enthusiasts,” smoothly stated Garrins Passenger (getting a bit more control of him self).
Hyaegin wondered what the ArgonForge connection was to this Shimoo. Why were they willing to anonymously donate so much to boost her education? Could AF be trying to place a spy in his lowly operation? Did it matter? Without the credits he was just about dead in the water!
Hyaegin really needed that funding. The alternative was returning to just planning and dreaming of further expeditions - deep diving was an expensive business. An extra pair of hands could be useful too, particularly an attractive pair! Anyway forewarned is forearmed! While even Professor Hyaegin believed there was more to life than work. He was tired of having only the company of blubbery Boron - a beautiful able associate - would be more than welcome even he had to admit if Shimoo remained entirely professional.
Despite this Hyaegin hoped this Shimoo lived up to the image of the startling visual record he had been shown! That would be an extra bonus; today it was just too easy to fake these things, add a bit of height here, reduce or increase a bump there, add a bit of extra sparkle! In his time Hyaegin had suffered a few horrors from the deep, courtesy of trawling the Inter Link. In the end he had given up and gone back to seeking fulfilment more or less entirely from his chosen career, and those his projects attracted!
Diving used to be a great way to meet - interesting - Argon but not when you find yourself permanently stationed in Kingdom End! At the time it had seemed like a golden opportunity (unfortunately he had failed to make a quick breakthrough) then the bulk of his funding, and his support staff including his then (quite delicious young associate) partner had all ebbed away. Now it was a battle just to keep his tired old project alive, Hyaegin could live with being a failure perhaps, but he could not suffer failing simply because he had quit, Hyaegin was not a quitter!
There were still good leads to follow, deep ground to cover despite what others said! Nonetheless, he missed the good old days when fire, and water had still mixed. Not that he had actively pursued any of his previous - ah working - relationships they had been the natural melding of mind, and body fitting to mutual co-operation for mutual advancement! A total sharing of limited resources - it was all good value as far as he was concerned! Until this recent, and odd summoning by AF Hyaegin was beginning to feel as if he had been relegated, reduced to dwelling among the damp ashes of a once glorious existence.
Now he was being presented with a potentially delightful package of funding and assistance. Somebody in AF perhaps had a surplus of budget to expend, and or an interest in the Helpers or both. It was a puzzle but he was in no position to question not until he had his paws on the essential goods. For once Hyaegin had determined he wouldn’t rock the boat he would just grin, and be most very grateful!
With his passenger gone quiet and thoughtful G returned to the HUD and the image of the approaching forge complex. The Argon space station was a beautiful construction without doubt even if it was hard, and cold. Garrin wondered where the warm Elaen currently resided under that metal skin. If he did managed by some miracle to extricate himself from Shimoo without a fuss would it help his ultimate desire?
As they arrived into Elena’s Fortune a little traitor part of Garrin worried that he was on some mad double rebound, and maybe it would be better if he just concentrated on his business, but Elaen’s smiling face was haunting his thoughts much more than the ‘Grim Reaper’ at the moment. What about Ravn though that big guy didn’t seem like the type to gently step aside, nor was he likely to be easily pushed by such as myself, thought G. Maybe Anna’s assistance was just destined to rob him of the only delusional comfort he had left. Still wouldn’t it be better to turn back to the real universe, and stop living in a fantasy like that AVR he had returned to the store. If only Garrin knew what was true from what was poor estimates derived from the inaccurate data stream of warped perception, and hungry desire.
Self-doubt had never been one of his weaknesses, more likely a degree of over confidence based on a false belief in his own rational processes! All this daydreaming was dangerous too - luckily following his policy Baby only brought him into the 6k range of his destination then stopped. Nonetheless, G wasn’t impressed with his own lack of attention. Carelessness was habit forming - it didn’t pay to relax too much - not even on easy runs. Garrin felt like a shadow of his former self, and could almost hear his personal Soul Reaper laughing behind him as it sharpened its scythe for a culling!
In the Paranid Sector of Priests Pity Tur had succeeded in his aim. The Anarchy Port had fallen, but he was not entirely satisfied. The new Arch Fallen Angel (head of the Fallen Angel Clan of Pirates) had lost two more Argon, and his stealthy Paranid suspected Agent opponent had vanished without trace. Not even the reactivated security systems had assisted in tracking the Monster down. Tur feared the Paranid surveillance unit had been compromised, and would need to be very carefully purged, and reset with new routines, something Tur simply couldn’t do at this time.
Two more deaths, and four more injuries, well the worms were tough opponents even the normal ones. The injuries would heal but the loss of three new recruits was a painful blow. Nonetheless, the gains were substantial, even if the Port needed serious security overhauls. The Fallen Angels were back in business though they had found a strange place in which to nest.
Flanked by two guards since the unknown killer might still be on station Tur considered his current options, it was giving him a headache either that or the implants settling or both. Jorac’s plan would have worked like clockwork had it not been for their unexpected, and unwanted guest. Now Tur would have to improvise. The ease of the assassins egress meant all his clan were potentially at risk, everybody was now teamed up, and employing active multiple scanners.
Tur had dug out some remote combat drones from the supplies he had brought with him, and had a team using these in the stations nooks, and crannies hunting down even the smallest anomalous signal. So far they had killed off quite a few alien infestations no doubt the Paranid equivalent of rats, and other creepy crawlies but that was all. The Fallen Angels were being badly overstretched he needed more warm bodies. Tur wondered dared he use any on the other Pirate Argon on station? If only his best computer expert hadn’t been so careless. It was regrettable - his Argon had needed more time to become fully accustomed to the new armoured suits - but time had been leaking away like water from a damaged Floater’s encounter suit.
He wanted to get down to the business of interrogating the Paranid captives in the hope that they knew something about Kerry’s kidnapper. However, he dared not, not until he was sure that the suspected special operations agent was dead or departed! Tur had even tried using some lures putting out seeming lone individuals in high-risk areas but the Paranid hadn’t taken the bait. The last kill had been a while ago now, what was it up to? Could it have departed already perhaps via GTD to one of those legendary Paranid stealth ships? Tur felt like he was being forced into a waiting game this filled him with rage. He needed to find Kerry Tur was afraid something bad might have happened to her already!
Last edited by Paranoid66 on Mon, 21. Apr 08, 20:39, edited 2 times in total.
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Paranoid66
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chapter 36
Reapers Passage
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 36 – Fatal Binding
Kerry had awakened to horror - the returning knowledge of a death sentence in her veins ambushing her upon full consciousness - some things were not easy to forget even if you tried very hard! It was almost impossible to believe that she had been forcibly enlisted into of all things - the cursed Argon Navy it al seemed rather surreal, a story that belonged to somebody else, of all the strange fates to befall the Devils kin! The Legion of the Damned they called themselves, and it would seem it was a name well earned.
The ‘Commander of the Fortress’ or just the Commander as he was also known had briefed Kerry about her new situation. Then she had been placed among her squad many of whom she knew well. Her unit were to be Fallen Angels, Jorac’s own clansmen! Some Kerry noted like her carried new scars testament to the fall of Freedom perhaps? Now at least if nothing else she would get some answers about what had occurred here in Elena’s Fortune when her brothers had been forced to flee his Pirate Base.
Most of the Angels were both happy and dismayed at her arrival that was pretty much how she felt upon finding them.
“K baby,” shouted Joiya rushing to give Jorac’s sister a motherly hug, “I am sorry to see you here, though it brings tears of joy to my eyes,” said the big female pilot getting all emotional, “I’m so sorry about your brother, the cursed Wolves, and Rats betrayed him there was nothing we could do, it was a bomb in one of the bay,” Joiya explained with hindsight.
“The Black Rats, and Grey Wolves then,” said Kerry, “So they took ‘Freedom Station’, and put Jorac to flight.”
“To flight? Jorac lives,” exclaimed Joiya suddenly whispering, and cautious.
“Not anymore,” said Kerry with a sigh, “but he survived the first assassination attempt on ‘Freedom Station’ my brother, my Guardian Angel died in Priests Pity.”
“I don’t understand, and your face, your lovely face,” said Joiya hugging K even more tightly.
“Well at least I’m alive - well half alive - with this stuff in my blood,” noted Kerry.
“So the Rats, and the Wolves hold Freedom but how did you end up here among these Damned souls?” asked Kerry.
“Ha,” said Angry, slipping down from a high bunk, “the Rats, and Wolves are in the same fix as our good selves, we are all blood brothers now! It was that triple cursed Floater Ploopydroop it knifed everyone in the back even our betrayers, not that they deserved any better treatment. The fekking fish is the only one living it up on Freedom,” he said spitting on the floor his hands clenching to make two fists.
“So the Boron were involved after all,” said Kerry looking around the crowded billet.
“Sharks that what they call themselves,” noted Angry, “the place was swarming with Boron by the time they handed us over to the fekking Argon in grey!”
“How by the abyss did it do it?” asked Kerry, “how did the floaters ever take Freedom from the Fallen Angels, and our lesser compatriots?”
“Oh it was beautiful,” said RIP, “the little fish face proved to be a hacking genius. He took over the whole CCS [central computer system] turned our own precious defences on us - I warned Jorac the system was just too centralised. Bedrin’s mistake your brother even asked me for a plan of action, it was a big job we were in the process of sourcing the equipment. Maybe the little fek overheard, or Bale, or Amon or they just came to the same independent conclusion?”
“One little mistake,” moaned Kerry.
Bedrin had been the previous ruler of Freedom - a brutal killer not renowned for his finesse - Jorac’s predecessor there had been the founder of the still tainted by reputation Green Monkey Clan.
“One little mistake is all it ever takes child,” said Joiya, “so the feks have poisoned you too,” she cursed sympathetically, “at least we are together now.”
“Is there no way out of this pretty cage,” asked Kerry.
The newest recruit looked around at the billet, it seemed the most open of prisons to her surprise even the door wasn’t locked. Did these ‘Legion of the Damned’ know whom they had here? Kerry wondered.
“I doubt there is any way to escape,” said Wreath, “They call the drug ‘Argon Incentive’ but that is not the important thing, guess what it is based upon?”
“Get on with it Wreath,” said Joiya mockingly, “we are all in suspense!”
“The infamous ‘Split Dire’ that’s what,” explained Wreath raising an eyebrow.
“Tell us another Spacers Tale Wreath that one is old,” said Bully slumping over to Kerry to place a meaty sympathetic hand on her shoulder.
“It’s the devils own truth. The Argon have been trying for decades to find an antidote to the drug ‘Split Dire’ they failed, but they managed to create their own version,” said Wreath, “that is the nature of progress it is always easier to kill than cure, trust me I know!”
“It fits,” said RIP, “every application of Dire was said to need its own tailor made suppressant,”
Dire according to legend was the Split Races ultimate means of defeated family conversion, as well as it was said being used from ancient times by Split agents to secure traitors among other factions. Now even other races could be turned. It was a ghost story, used to frighten enemies of the Split everywhere. Split Dire the ultimate infiltration / conversion drug!
“The ANI have bound us Fallen Angels good and tight - guess we had best learn to live with it,” noted Roid. The big man left his game of solitaire on the billets folding table to greet the new arrival with a nod, and a thin smile.
“Who else is here?” asked Kerry.
“Almost every Argon survivor of Freedom, and a large crew of Damned Veterans this operation isn’t a new one. I get the feeling the ‘Legion of the Damned’ have been around for a long time. I’ve heard of some of these Vet’s too - legends many of them - assumed KIA. Hard as they come and everyone a platinum plated survivor!” noted Roid, “best get used to being in the Navy lass it’s that or the ultimate escape that stalks us all, nothing less than the Reapers Passage is going to get us out of this one,” he gave her arm a squeeze as if to make sure she was really there, “Jorac lives in your blood K remember that chin up!”
“I do,” K, replied, “I won’t give up hope that easy either; where there is life!”
“This isn’t life you know what they all say - this is a death sentence,” said Angry bitter as ever, “but hold onto your dreams if it helps. What is that you said about Jorac surviving Freedom Station Kerry?”
“His suit initiated the Goner Transport Device on his ship. My brother was badly beaten up but the suits shield saved him, he made it to the Anarchy Port in Priest Pity. Somebody killed him there later. I was right beside him when it happened” Kerry seemed to shrink in on herself, “whatever they used his whole head exploded that’s how I got injured,” she explained.
“So who did it?” asked Joiya suddenly filled with unreasoning hate.
“I don’t know, I didn’t see anything. It came from nowhere. The Paranid claimed they couldn’t trace it either but they were being really uncooperative, and mercenary,” Kerry noted.
“Paranid Pirates are a rare breed apart,” noted Joiya, “I never understood what Jorac seen in them. I never trusted them, they keep too many secrets!”
“That’s an understatement, the Nid are all mad if you ask me,” said Roid, “you have no idea how important the Priest Emperor is to them, when they get cast out it messes with their heads. Feks them up good and proper it does. I can tell you some stories about Paranid outcasts that would keep you awake at night.”
“So how did you end up here Kerry?” asked RIP.
Rest In Pieces face showed a mildly disturbed expression, almost as if he had bitten into something that unexpectedly wiggled.
“I’m not really sure I needed some credits took this job with a smuggler called Jon Flyn,” she explained, “Next thing I know Tur arrives with a bunch of Fallen Angels, the deal starts going a bit south, and I’m being held hostage then I wake up here.”
“Jon Flyn, Jon Flyn now why does that name sound so familiar?” questioned Wreath; “Tur you say is he in the bag too?”
“I don’t know? I don’t think so he just had to stand down, Jon had a gun to my head, we jumped out,” Kerry explained thinking how quickly it had gone wrong.
“The plot thickens,” noted Bully, “well I imagine at the rate things are going we’ll be seeing young Tur soon enough. These Feks seem to know how to cast a wide net!”
“Could be worse,” stated Roid, “in a way we still get to do our own special things, we’re all together, and there is stuff to keep you entertained, if you keep your tally up!”
“Tally?” asked K not having heard this one mentioned before.
“Yeah, if you’re especially well behaved - you get incentives - other than just your next suppressant shot,” explained Angry with a glare at Roid as if he had sold out, “the powers keep a tally on every one of us plus the squad itself. It’s like one big jolly fekking game!”
“They have it all down to a fine art,” complained Joiya, “you can’t beat this system. I’ve talked to some of the Vets too. Only two volunteers in this unit the Commander, and his boss some Iron clad ANI slut that goes by the name of Fay! Can you believe it they carry the toxin also as volunteers!”
“That was the female spook that interviewed me on the ‘Lost for Words’”, noted Slip with a yawn, “Hi K guess it is a family reunion.”
“I remember that one too,” said Bully, “a real bundle of laughs, face like a decrepit Splits rear. Let’s hope the stuff doesn’t do that to the rest of us,” he finished with a smirk.
“I don’t know I thought she was kind of sweet,” said Rest In Pieces, “I think she liked me!”
“You think all the girls like you RIP especially the ugly ones,” stated Joiya.
“Nothing wrong with the ugly ones,” said Wreath, “best of all if you ask me. I hate overly pretty females they got too many pretensions.”
This statement caused a general round of laughter from all present.
“Somebody did a real number on your face eh Kerry,” said Slip, negatively impacting on the mood.
“Leave the girl alone,” warned Joiya, “you got no soul Slip just spite, enmity, and bile.”
“Just saying what I see!” said Slip sulkily, “I must have slept through the juicy details.”
“Jorac survived Freedom, but was assassinated in Priests Pity K was there,” explained Roid, “she was wounded in the explosion that did the dirty deed.”
“Awful lot of booms lately, and ‘Rest In Pieces’ [RIP] wasn’t even involved - sure he’s dead Sis?” asked Slip, “our Devil has more lives than a black cat!”
“I’m still wearing some fragments of his skull,” grimaced Kerry getting tired or explaining this.
“What’s under the cover of the pretty scarf?” asked Slip reaching out to have a peep!
“Nothing that works anymore,” stated K taking a step back,
Something about even the idea of being touched by Slip filled Joracs Sister with repulsion.
“That’s a fekker - bad depth perception - surprised the Damned didn’t throw you back!” noted Slip.
“Slip!” warned Joiya reaching for a blade she didn’t have - then giving the young female ex pirate a stern withering look!
“Hey K I’ve seen the medical labs here. I bet the Legion can fix you up good and proper,” said Wreath suddenly full of joyful enthusiasm, “they even have cloning tanks. I’ll put a word in with the boss - they’ve been training me up on the heavy duty systems!”
“Well that would be something,” said Kerry, “the fekking thing still burns.”
“Have a few pain killer shots around here somewhere,” said Wreath going off to have a rummage in the gear piled at the foot of his bunk.
“So you are still playing medic to these unfortunates then?” asked Kerry.
“Yeah he’s still playing, not called Wreath for nothing,” spat Angry!
“Not my fault most of the field patients I get are irretrievable,” complained Wreath with a grin.
“After you’d done with them they sure as hell were,” said Slip smirking, “totally fekked up!”
“Just wait till you need my ministrations Slip lass,” said Wreath with a wink, “I promise to give you a real good going over, one you won’t soon forget in a hurry!” he licked his lips then turned to give Kerry a hidden wink.
“I’d rather die,” said Slip poking out her tongue, and turning away, “only way you could get a woman under you, is under a fekking sedative,” Slip stated with cruel laughter.
“Everything comes to he who waits,” returned Wreath fishing out a disposable.
“Death is easily arranged just put in a request do not resuscitate,” said Angry joining in a bit late.
“I don’t think this Legion gives you any choice in the matter,” noted Bully, “damn nice gear though. Not seen stuff of this quality since…” he trailed off.
“Funny that, they pump us full of toxin then go out of there way to keep us alive,” said RIP, “almost makes you feel all warm, and fuzzy inside, it’s nice to be wanted.”
“All Argons are mad,” said Joiya, “didn’t you know?”
“Not more of that dharma stuff Joiya how do you live with yourself if you believe that stuff?” asked Bully going over to glance at Roids discarded game.
“It’s not easy,” said Joiya sighing, “I’ve been a very, very naughty girl!”
“I think we’ve all been - a little naughty,” said RIP sniggering darkly, “haven’t we?”
“Maybe we are being judged,” said Kerry rather morbidly before sitting down on the edge of a seemingly unoccupied bunk.
“I’ll spit in the eye of any unfeeling God you wish to name,” noted Angry, “and leak on their idols too. My destiny is my own. No fek can take that away from me. The ANI can kiss the smelly ring of my butt before I become a mindless tool of the Powers. My blade cuts both ways!” he said swishing an imaginary knife about.
“Amen to that brother,” said Bully giving Angry a slap on the back.
“Testosterone,” said Joiya smiling towards Kerry.
“You’re just jealous of what we’ve got,” explained Angry grinding theatrically towards the stout pilot.
“Hey keep it down,” complained Cail, “some of us are trying to sleep.”
“Use your blasted ear pieces ‘Fang face’ you technological barbarian,” said Bully.
“All right so I forgot,” said Cail fiddling behind his ear he lowered his head back down.
“Even the Beast is here?” said Kerry with a sigh.
“Even the Beast,” replied Joiya.
“They’re a fine crew Commander,” said the Surveillance tech. still smiling.
“They match their reputation. I wish I could have redeemed Jorac, but that Argon was just too cursed dangerous. I can hardly believe the Devil is dead not even with the image evidence, and the dna sample!” noted the Commander also fixated on the monitor.
“Any way it could have been faked?” asked the Tech.
“Not impossible, but very, very difficult, and even more unlikely. Everybody’s luck runs out sometime Joph, everybody makes mistakes. Even your infamous ‘Master of the Abyss’ even the Arch Fallen Angel Jorac” said the Commander.
“I sure hope so,” noted the Tech, “having that little girl here gives me the creeps.”
“It was only a name and a reputation,” smiled the Commander, “he wasn’t really an infernal entity you know!”
“You wouldn’t say that if you had been dirt side during the insurrection,” said Joph, “the fekker almost had me filling my pants on too many occasions to count. I remember the way the Devil hovered over the girl too.”
“I thought you were on his side during the rebellion?” questioned the Commander.
“Believe me no matter what side he happened to be on at the time, I was always on his, even I’m not that stupid!” replied the Tech shaking his head.
“I heard he played the factions off against each other,” noted the Commander.
“That’s one way of putting it,” said the Tech shuddering.
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 36 – Fatal Binding
Kerry had awakened to horror - the returning knowledge of a death sentence in her veins ambushing her upon full consciousness - some things were not easy to forget even if you tried very hard! It was almost impossible to believe that she had been forcibly enlisted into of all things - the cursed Argon Navy it al seemed rather surreal, a story that belonged to somebody else, of all the strange fates to befall the Devils kin! The Legion of the Damned they called themselves, and it would seem it was a name well earned.
The ‘Commander of the Fortress’ or just the Commander as he was also known had briefed Kerry about her new situation. Then she had been placed among her squad many of whom she knew well. Her unit were to be Fallen Angels, Jorac’s own clansmen! Some Kerry noted like her carried new scars testament to the fall of Freedom perhaps? Now at least if nothing else she would get some answers about what had occurred here in Elena’s Fortune when her brothers had been forced to flee his Pirate Base.
Most of the Angels were both happy and dismayed at her arrival that was pretty much how she felt upon finding them.
“K baby,” shouted Joiya rushing to give Jorac’s sister a motherly hug, “I am sorry to see you here, though it brings tears of joy to my eyes,” said the big female pilot getting all emotional, “I’m so sorry about your brother, the cursed Wolves, and Rats betrayed him there was nothing we could do, it was a bomb in one of the bay,” Joiya explained with hindsight.
“The Black Rats, and Grey Wolves then,” said Kerry, “So they took ‘Freedom Station’, and put Jorac to flight.”
“To flight? Jorac lives,” exclaimed Joiya suddenly whispering, and cautious.
“Not anymore,” said Kerry with a sigh, “but he survived the first assassination attempt on ‘Freedom Station’ my brother, my Guardian Angel died in Priests Pity.”
“I don’t understand, and your face, your lovely face,” said Joiya hugging K even more tightly.
“Well at least I’m alive - well half alive - with this stuff in my blood,” noted Kerry.
“So the Rats, and the Wolves hold Freedom but how did you end up here among these Damned souls?” asked Kerry.
“Ha,” said Angry, slipping down from a high bunk, “the Rats, and Wolves are in the same fix as our good selves, we are all blood brothers now! It was that triple cursed Floater Ploopydroop it knifed everyone in the back even our betrayers, not that they deserved any better treatment. The fekking fish is the only one living it up on Freedom,” he said spitting on the floor his hands clenching to make two fists.
“So the Boron were involved after all,” said Kerry looking around the crowded billet.
“Sharks that what they call themselves,” noted Angry, “the place was swarming with Boron by the time they handed us over to the fekking Argon in grey!”
“How by the abyss did it do it?” asked Kerry, “how did the floaters ever take Freedom from the Fallen Angels, and our lesser compatriots?”
“Oh it was beautiful,” said RIP, “the little fish face proved to be a hacking genius. He took over the whole CCS [central computer system] turned our own precious defences on us - I warned Jorac the system was just too centralised. Bedrin’s mistake your brother even asked me for a plan of action, it was a big job we were in the process of sourcing the equipment. Maybe the little fek overheard, or Bale, or Amon or they just came to the same independent conclusion?”
“One little mistake,” moaned Kerry.
Bedrin had been the previous ruler of Freedom - a brutal killer not renowned for his finesse - Jorac’s predecessor there had been the founder of the still tainted by reputation Green Monkey Clan.
“One little mistake is all it ever takes child,” said Joiya, “so the feks have poisoned you too,” she cursed sympathetically, “at least we are together now.”
“Is there no way out of this pretty cage,” asked Kerry.
The newest recruit looked around at the billet, it seemed the most open of prisons to her surprise even the door wasn’t locked. Did these ‘Legion of the Damned’ know whom they had here? Kerry wondered.
“I doubt there is any way to escape,” said Wreath, “They call the drug ‘Argon Incentive’ but that is not the important thing, guess what it is based upon?”
“Get on with it Wreath,” said Joiya mockingly, “we are all in suspense!”
“The infamous ‘Split Dire’ that’s what,” explained Wreath raising an eyebrow.
“Tell us another Spacers Tale Wreath that one is old,” said Bully slumping over to Kerry to place a meaty sympathetic hand on her shoulder.
“It’s the devils own truth. The Argon have been trying for decades to find an antidote to the drug ‘Split Dire’ they failed, but they managed to create their own version,” said Wreath, “that is the nature of progress it is always easier to kill than cure, trust me I know!”
“It fits,” said RIP, “every application of Dire was said to need its own tailor made suppressant,”
Dire according to legend was the Split Races ultimate means of defeated family conversion, as well as it was said being used from ancient times by Split agents to secure traitors among other factions. Now even other races could be turned. It was a ghost story, used to frighten enemies of the Split everywhere. Split Dire the ultimate infiltration / conversion drug!
“The ANI have bound us Fallen Angels good and tight - guess we had best learn to live with it,” noted Roid. The big man left his game of solitaire on the billets folding table to greet the new arrival with a nod, and a thin smile.
“Who else is here?” asked Kerry.
“Almost every Argon survivor of Freedom, and a large crew of Damned Veterans this operation isn’t a new one. I get the feeling the ‘Legion of the Damned’ have been around for a long time. I’ve heard of some of these Vet’s too - legends many of them - assumed KIA. Hard as they come and everyone a platinum plated survivor!” noted Roid, “best get used to being in the Navy lass it’s that or the ultimate escape that stalks us all, nothing less than the Reapers Passage is going to get us out of this one,” he gave her arm a squeeze as if to make sure she was really there, “Jorac lives in your blood K remember that chin up!”
“I do,” K, replied, “I won’t give up hope that easy either; where there is life!”
“This isn’t life you know what they all say - this is a death sentence,” said Angry bitter as ever, “but hold onto your dreams if it helps. What is that you said about Jorac surviving Freedom Station Kerry?”
“His suit initiated the Goner Transport Device on his ship. My brother was badly beaten up but the suits shield saved him, he made it to the Anarchy Port in Priest Pity. Somebody killed him there later. I was right beside him when it happened” Kerry seemed to shrink in on herself, “whatever they used his whole head exploded that’s how I got injured,” she explained.
“So who did it?” asked Joiya suddenly filled with unreasoning hate.
“I don’t know, I didn’t see anything. It came from nowhere. The Paranid claimed they couldn’t trace it either but they were being really uncooperative, and mercenary,” Kerry noted.
“Paranid Pirates are a rare breed apart,” noted Joiya, “I never understood what Jorac seen in them. I never trusted them, they keep too many secrets!”
“That’s an understatement, the Nid are all mad if you ask me,” said Roid, “you have no idea how important the Priest Emperor is to them, when they get cast out it messes with their heads. Feks them up good and proper it does. I can tell you some stories about Paranid outcasts that would keep you awake at night.”
“So how did you end up here Kerry?” asked RIP.
Rest In Pieces face showed a mildly disturbed expression, almost as if he had bitten into something that unexpectedly wiggled.
“I’m not really sure I needed some credits took this job with a smuggler called Jon Flyn,” she explained, “Next thing I know Tur arrives with a bunch of Fallen Angels, the deal starts going a bit south, and I’m being held hostage then I wake up here.”
“Jon Flyn, Jon Flyn now why does that name sound so familiar?” questioned Wreath; “Tur you say is he in the bag too?”
“I don’t know? I don’t think so he just had to stand down, Jon had a gun to my head, we jumped out,” Kerry explained thinking how quickly it had gone wrong.
“The plot thickens,” noted Bully, “well I imagine at the rate things are going we’ll be seeing young Tur soon enough. These Feks seem to know how to cast a wide net!”
“Could be worse,” stated Roid, “in a way we still get to do our own special things, we’re all together, and there is stuff to keep you entertained, if you keep your tally up!”
“Tally?” asked K not having heard this one mentioned before.
“Yeah, if you’re especially well behaved - you get incentives - other than just your next suppressant shot,” explained Angry with a glare at Roid as if he had sold out, “the powers keep a tally on every one of us plus the squad itself. It’s like one big jolly fekking game!”
“They have it all down to a fine art,” complained Joiya, “you can’t beat this system. I’ve talked to some of the Vets too. Only two volunteers in this unit the Commander, and his boss some Iron clad ANI slut that goes by the name of Fay! Can you believe it they carry the toxin also as volunteers!”
“That was the female spook that interviewed me on the ‘Lost for Words’”, noted Slip with a yawn, “Hi K guess it is a family reunion.”
“I remember that one too,” said Bully, “a real bundle of laughs, face like a decrepit Splits rear. Let’s hope the stuff doesn’t do that to the rest of us,” he finished with a smirk.
“I don’t know I thought she was kind of sweet,” said Rest In Pieces, “I think she liked me!”
“You think all the girls like you RIP especially the ugly ones,” stated Joiya.
“Nothing wrong with the ugly ones,” said Wreath, “best of all if you ask me. I hate overly pretty females they got too many pretensions.”
This statement caused a general round of laughter from all present.
“Somebody did a real number on your face eh Kerry,” said Slip, negatively impacting on the mood.
“Leave the girl alone,” warned Joiya, “you got no soul Slip just spite, enmity, and bile.”
“Just saying what I see!” said Slip sulkily, “I must have slept through the juicy details.”
“Jorac survived Freedom, but was assassinated in Priests Pity K was there,” explained Roid, “she was wounded in the explosion that did the dirty deed.”
“Awful lot of booms lately, and ‘Rest In Pieces’ [RIP] wasn’t even involved - sure he’s dead Sis?” asked Slip, “our Devil has more lives than a black cat!”
“I’m still wearing some fragments of his skull,” grimaced Kerry getting tired or explaining this.
“What’s under the cover of the pretty scarf?” asked Slip reaching out to have a peep!
“Nothing that works anymore,” stated K taking a step back,
Something about even the idea of being touched by Slip filled Joracs Sister with repulsion.
“That’s a fekker - bad depth perception - surprised the Damned didn’t throw you back!” noted Slip.
“Slip!” warned Joiya reaching for a blade she didn’t have - then giving the young female ex pirate a stern withering look!
“Hey K I’ve seen the medical labs here. I bet the Legion can fix you up good and proper,” said Wreath suddenly full of joyful enthusiasm, “they even have cloning tanks. I’ll put a word in with the boss - they’ve been training me up on the heavy duty systems!”
“Well that would be something,” said Kerry, “the fekking thing still burns.”
“Have a few pain killer shots around here somewhere,” said Wreath going off to have a rummage in the gear piled at the foot of his bunk.
“So you are still playing medic to these unfortunates then?” asked Kerry.
“Yeah he’s still playing, not called Wreath for nothing,” spat Angry!
“Not my fault most of the field patients I get are irretrievable,” complained Wreath with a grin.
“After you’d done with them they sure as hell were,” said Slip smirking, “totally fekked up!”
“Just wait till you need my ministrations Slip lass,” said Wreath with a wink, “I promise to give you a real good going over, one you won’t soon forget in a hurry!” he licked his lips then turned to give Kerry a hidden wink.
“I’d rather die,” said Slip poking out her tongue, and turning away, “only way you could get a woman under you, is under a fekking sedative,” Slip stated with cruel laughter.
“Everything comes to he who waits,” returned Wreath fishing out a disposable.
“Death is easily arranged just put in a request do not resuscitate,” said Angry joining in a bit late.
“I don’t think this Legion gives you any choice in the matter,” noted Bully, “damn nice gear though. Not seen stuff of this quality since…” he trailed off.
“Funny that, they pump us full of toxin then go out of there way to keep us alive,” said RIP, “almost makes you feel all warm, and fuzzy inside, it’s nice to be wanted.”
“All Argons are mad,” said Joiya, “didn’t you know?”
“Not more of that dharma stuff Joiya how do you live with yourself if you believe that stuff?” asked Bully going over to glance at Roids discarded game.
“It’s not easy,” said Joiya sighing, “I’ve been a very, very naughty girl!”
“I think we’ve all been - a little naughty,” said RIP sniggering darkly, “haven’t we?”
“Maybe we are being judged,” said Kerry rather morbidly before sitting down on the edge of a seemingly unoccupied bunk.
“I’ll spit in the eye of any unfeeling God you wish to name,” noted Angry, “and leak on their idols too. My destiny is my own. No fek can take that away from me. The ANI can kiss the smelly ring of my butt before I become a mindless tool of the Powers. My blade cuts both ways!” he said swishing an imaginary knife about.
“Amen to that brother,” said Bully giving Angry a slap on the back.
“Testosterone,” said Joiya smiling towards Kerry.
“You’re just jealous of what we’ve got,” explained Angry grinding theatrically towards the stout pilot.
“Hey keep it down,” complained Cail, “some of us are trying to sleep.”
“Use your blasted ear pieces ‘Fang face’ you technological barbarian,” said Bully.
“All right so I forgot,” said Cail fiddling behind his ear he lowered his head back down.
“Even the Beast is here?” said Kerry with a sigh.
“Even the Beast,” replied Joiya.
“They’re a fine crew Commander,” said the Surveillance tech. still smiling.
“They match their reputation. I wish I could have redeemed Jorac, but that Argon was just too cursed dangerous. I can hardly believe the Devil is dead not even with the image evidence, and the dna sample!” noted the Commander also fixated on the monitor.
“Any way it could have been faked?” asked the Tech.
“Not impossible, but very, very difficult, and even more unlikely. Everybody’s luck runs out sometime Joph, everybody makes mistakes. Even your infamous ‘Master of the Abyss’ even the Arch Fallen Angel Jorac” said the Commander.
“I sure hope so,” noted the Tech, “having that little girl here gives me the creeps.”
“It was only a name and a reputation,” smiled the Commander, “he wasn’t really an infernal entity you know!”
“You wouldn’t say that if you had been dirt side during the insurrection,” said Joph, “the fekker almost had me filling my pants on too many occasions to count. I remember the way the Devil hovered over the girl too.”
“I thought you were on his side during the rebellion?” questioned the Commander.
“Believe me no matter what side he happened to be on at the time, I was always on his, even I’m not that stupid!” replied the Tech shaking his head.
“I heard he played the factions off against each other,” noted the Commander.
“That’s one way of putting it,” said the Tech shuddering.
Last edited by Paranoid66 on Mon, 21. Apr 08, 20:42, edited 2 times in total.
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Paranoid66
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chapter 37
Reapers Passage
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 37 – Other Moments Between
They say the universe began in an explosion. Everything existent in one tiny space blasted forever outward - forever falling - drifting into what? Ever deepening gulfs eternal separations, and emptiness? Yet particles collide, and fuse, and for a time may burn brightly with a fierceness that can defrost even the coldest heart. Ashes may follow - perhaps these are inevitable - but still for a time light, and hope, and warmth, and bright shining dreams! Sometimes dreams are enough. Sometimes though all your eyes see are the hollow spaces the voids that lie between the bright stars.
Anna sat opposite Mynae Kalen AFC 4’s Chief Medical Officer. The aged woman didn’t look happy.
“That is a tough one,” said Mynae.
“I know that’s why I’m here. Advice, and consideration before action, you understand?” questioned Anna, “I fully appreciate how delicate, how truly dangerous this is!”
Mynae looked crestfallen, “It’s a parasitic bore worm infested Argnu dung stew,” she said, “I don’t like it Anna, I’m close to retiring this sort of thing could really mess up my hope for a happy remuneration. Hell I’ve got little enough out of being posted out here in the dark. So I made a few mistakes, but I’ve paid my dues with interest, haven’t I?”
“I know,” replied Anna sympathising Mynae had always done the Forge proud even if she had a less than inspirational prior history, she deserved some recompense, “listen I’m not talking mutiny here or even removal. If you just get the Argon on a discreet recovery programme? Clean our Administrator up guide him away from the precipice, stitch up these wounds that seem to have afflicted his ego?”
“Not easy if he’s as paranoiac as you’re hinting Anna. Chances are even if I bring the subject up - he’ll just decide I am a traitor - and might act accordingly. Really this is not even my field. I mend bodies not minds that’s another issue altogether!” said Kalen.
“That’s a pity,” said Anna, “so what would the good doctor recommend?”
“Going on a holiday until this fell storm blows over,” Mynae answered twiddling with an eyedropper while looking at her desk forlornly.
“Not good enough,” said Anna, “if we do nothing the whole situation could explode in our faces anyway. Look at anything long, and hard enough and you will see nonexistent patterns. How long do you think it will be before Gregor starts making twenty two from two plus two? From my perception the Argon is getting more and more unhinged. The fact that we had a lets face it - minor situation - here has just added fuel to the fire!”
“Damn Anna why now?” cursed the Medical Officer, “I don’t have any magic shots to make this kind of pain go away. I wish I did, I’d take a triple dose myself! It’s not as if ArgonForge supplied us with any real psychologists only a few less than gifted part time goody do good weekend course councillors! Fek look at Loren for example: do you think that idiot has any idea what to do with a for real clinical paranoiac psychotic?”
“Forget Gregor is the Administrator, what if he was just another suit?” asked Anna.
“Easy,” said Mynae, “call in security march him in under guard for a random test. If positive throw the book at him or dress him down according to the situation, sack him, ship him out, or put him in rehab or an asylum. However, Gregors not just any suit - get real Anna - you must know most of the high flyers run on more than just coffee! If we make a move to take Gregor down it’s not just procedure it’s fekkin politics, unless you can convince your boss to dance naked in Hub One in front of a zillion cameras!”
“What about an oblique approach,” said Anna, “start a wide sweep, drug test other staff. Maybe that would put a shot across his bows make him reconsider his bad habits?”
“Might be worth a try but it could push him too, also if he is - truly hooked - and the way you describe things it isn’t looking good, frankly I doubt it will prove successful. Real addicts, well you would almost need to have been one to understand it. How deep down in that pit do you consider Gregor currently is?” questioned Mynae.
“I don’t know? I don’t even know if it is just the drugs or Gregor’s own natural mental condition with his new found habit on top!” said Anna, “I’m not a medical doctor after all never mind a mind bender. My qualifications lie in other sciences.”
“Self medicating,” said Mynae with a groan, “that would fit only too well! Paranid’s eyes this really is a horrendous procedure you’re proposing. I hate corporate politics!”
“Could you at least make a hidden discreet assessment keep it on secure file off the main system? That way we can be prepared to move if things do deteriorate. Besides Mynae it will look even worse on your record if Gregor goes space happy and you have done nothing about it!” noted Anna.
“If you insist Anna, look, leave it with me, but I’ll have to move slowly, we don’t want to put our subject under any additional pressure. Damn with all the refugee health screening I’ve not really had any time for even undertaking the shallow regular command staff psychological assessments those silly computerised question, and answer analysis electronic forms AF is so fond of, everything is back logged”, stated the Medical Officer.
“Not that the boys at central will take that as an excuse they will hang me out to dry in front of Sonra,” complained Mynae, “It’s cursed unfair it’s not as if ArgonForge have given me any extra staff. Well you know that damn well - my department is the last place to get even a little extra budget! Medical has just had to make do. Gregor probably spends more on entertaining buyers than I get for drugs and essential supplies,” exclaimed Mynae.
Anna shrugged, “Most of the serious medical stuff gets shipped out that’s AF policy, were not running a hospital here! Maybe you could talk Gregor into easing his workload a little. Gently tell him he is stressing his system with too much work,” noted Anna, “you’re the physician use the famous bedside manner!”
“Hah! Still lightening Gregors workload sounds like a sensible first approach,” nodded Mynae, “I think you should have a quiet word in Carl’s ear though Anna, if he is even a borderline paranoiac, Paranidia please don’t make it so, it is a serious security risk. Gregor has the self destruct key to the entire complex for feks sake!”
“You know I had forgot about that fact, you don’t really think he would…” Anna asked shocked, “No I still think it would be better coming from you Mynae only if, and after you are satisfied with a diagnosis! Otherwise it is too much like a long knife. Look I don’t want to see Gregor go down, I want to see him fixed up back in the driving seat hale and happy,” she said, “I owe a lot to that Argon he helped to get me to where I am today,” Anna lied smoothly!
Mynae scowled Anna was placing her right in the blasting pit. She was playing pass the parcel with a package sporting a visible detonator on top.
“I suppose I should thank you for your singular vote of confidence,” said Mynae somewhat sarcastically, thinking she should have known everything this end was running far too smoothly despite being swamped with work.
Anna smiled, “Chin up Carl is a last resort let’s try all the other options first!”
“Yes let’s,” repeated Mynae skilfully mocking Anna’s chirpy tone.
It was OK for the PA she would no doubt just breeze in later looking a progress report. It was old Mynae Kalen Chief Medical Officer that would have to go wade in the deep end - splash about without so much as a snorkel!
Sometime later after the PA had departed Mynae - still sitting at her desk - recalled the dread conversation, and really felt like she could do with a little something herself. The Medical Officer went in search of her stowed half empty bottle of space fuel, “Well,” she said to herself laughing, “this was clearly no cycle to think about quitting drinking - cheers,” Mynae said to the bulkhead before guzzling a good swallow of the fiery liquid straight.
Elsewhere on AFC 4 Shimoo believed she was hearing some good news?
“A Marine Archaeologist here on AFC 4?” questioned Shimoo, perking up.
“Yes, apparently he is sniffing around AF in search of funding for some dive back at Kingdom End,” said Garrin striving to appear non committal, “Anna said he has his hooks into one of the ex board members already. That individual had the Professor spirited aboard to make introductions to others with deeper still active corporate pockets.”
“I suppose this Academic will be at this evenings little entertainment then?” Shimoo enquired.
Shimoo couldn’t help thinking this had to have something to do with Anna being on station. Ex board member indeed, somehow Shimoo didn’t think so; Anna must have a long-standing covert interest in this watery project!
“So how did you hear about this love?” Shimoo asked.
“Didn’t I mention Anna had me collect the Professor in the ‘Grim Reaper’ I thought it was a funny coincidence, I mentioned how you my sweet were a student in the same field,” said Garrin feeling like hugging himself with self satisfied glee.
“So you have met this Argon already, I don’t suppose you remember his name?” questioned Shimoo with the tone of a mother who expected to be disappointed!
“Hyaegin, Professor Hyaegin,” G replied before cursing out a stream, “This jacket really is too small now!” he grumped.
Hyaegin well she remembered that one, chasing after rumours of the Boron Helpers without much success from recollection. Still Anna was not known for associating with failure, so something must have been uncovered some unseen or well covered potential find, and Garrin could give her an easy introduction.
“That sounds great,” said Shimoo, “I’ll actually have somebody I can talk to about more than the latest fashions, family affairs, or this never ending ghastly court case!”
At last, Shimoo thought, I am in business Hyaegin would be a lot easier to approach than the Icy Empress. Shimoo would flank the PA get on her team by the back door it was perfect!
“That’s nice,” said Garrin, “do I really have to wear this jacket? I’ll be uncomfortable all night long again,” he complained.
“Oh wear whatever you like,” said Shimoo, “just hurry up or we will disturb the beginning of the piece, and look like slack jawed colonial peasant farmers.”
“Terran chamber music,” said Garrin groaning, “Whatever will Gregor, and AF import next!”
In the Sector of the Wall in the ‘Fortress of the Damned’ the Wolves were discussing their previous strange exercise.
“So what by the fell lords of dark matter were those metal insect things anyway?” asked Sab.
“Arachnids,” explained Amon, “apparently along with the state of the art stuff, the Legion likes to take in failed shadow projects. Cannibalise them for parts, and or find new and imaginative applications beyond their original remit. One of the Veterans told me the Arachnids were failed (low grade AI) combat drones - meant to replace front line assault troops - for high-risk security, and boarding actions. Trouble was every time they were deployed - in a red zone - something went heinously wrong! Something about active AI, and weapons just never seems to work so well in my opinion.”
“Lots of friendly fire, mayhem, unexpected collateral damage, and so on. The project was culled after the principle AF research team got mauled when a final - supposedly fixative - exercise turned into a tragic runaway event! Some claimed it was actually sabotage by anti Artificial Intelligence activists rather than software bugs, but it was never proven! Anyway according to my vociferous source our esteemed Commander in Chief procured the Arachnid beasties had them disarmed, given a more basic program, and tooled them up for safe training purposes, and that my friends is the whole story!”
“Safe training purposes?” questioned Sab mockingly, “One of those things jumped right on my suit mid flight, and shut all my systems down - everything - except life support! I thought I was dead meat. Punctured the casing too with one of its legs if it hadn’t been for the self seal!” noted Sab, “Argon that is harsh!”
“Hmmm, I noticed you lost twenty tally points for suit damage. I thought you had hit something in the Rip, and were feeling a little embarrassed about it!” noted Amon.
“I didn’t hit anything despite the cunning new obstacles some fekker had placed, just for that purpose I’m sure,” complained Sab, “that fekkin Arachnid thing hit me, and hit me pretty hard! Just as well I have a sturdy disposition you try staring through a visor at a metal monstrosity, it’s not funny being examined by six beady camera eyes a few centimetres from your nose. Especially when the critter has what looked like hydraulic cutters for a mouth and an energy weapon for a crest!”
“Something to tell the grand children about,” noted Amon with a wicked grin, “next time you will think faster, and move quicker too - I suspect!”
“Could have been worse,” noted Bristle, “at least you didn’t need to see Shunt afterwards even if you filled both your bags with waste material!”
“I heard that,” replied the Wolves female medic, “their are a lot worse bone cutters than me in the crews, you should count yourselves lucky. Take the well named Wreath for example!”
“Wreath is pretty good,” defended Lyn, “he just tends to get the very worst cases. You can tell he actually cares about his crew he doesn’t just stitch up the meat!”
“I’m sure,” replied Jake, “what you doing sniffing round the Fallen Angels anyway Lyn, we got plenty of action right here,” he continued howling then panting before lolloping his tongue out and rolling over on his bunk with his limbs hooked in the air.
“Sit dog boy,” said Lyn, “go find another girl dog to wag your tail around! Does that pathetically infantile routine ever actually work?”
“I’m bored,” noted Amber stretching and touching her toes, “when are they going to let me blow something up around here?”
“Ouch,” said Tall Tale, “there goes the neighbourhood again kabooom!”
“We have some really mega munitions in the depot,” continued Amber dreamily, “could almost make the whole enforced Navy thing worthwhile. I don’t care who provides the fireworks so long as I get to set them off! All this training, and sitting about is no good though, I’m losing my edge. Hell I haven’t even got to play with a mine yet. Did you see those suit shoulder mounted anti fighter micro cluster missile launchers, how cool are those?”
“That’s our Amber Fire,” said Bright, “I love the way my little sister lights up the night sky!”
“Paranidia, Amon how did you track down so many mad females for this pack?” asked Jake, “did you run an advertisement in ‘Psychotic Femme Fatales Monthly’ or was it ‘Girls with Guns’ or something?”
“Guess I was just lucky,” said Amon striving to look entirely innocent, and failing.
“Pure coincidence then Mister Wolf,” said Bristle laughing, “pull the other one it jangles!”
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 37 – Other Moments Between
They say the universe began in an explosion. Everything existent in one tiny space blasted forever outward - forever falling - drifting into what? Ever deepening gulfs eternal separations, and emptiness? Yet particles collide, and fuse, and for a time may burn brightly with a fierceness that can defrost even the coldest heart. Ashes may follow - perhaps these are inevitable - but still for a time light, and hope, and warmth, and bright shining dreams! Sometimes dreams are enough. Sometimes though all your eyes see are the hollow spaces the voids that lie between the bright stars.
Anna sat opposite Mynae Kalen AFC 4’s Chief Medical Officer. The aged woman didn’t look happy.
“That is a tough one,” said Mynae.
“I know that’s why I’m here. Advice, and consideration before action, you understand?” questioned Anna, “I fully appreciate how delicate, how truly dangerous this is!”
Mynae looked crestfallen, “It’s a parasitic bore worm infested Argnu dung stew,” she said, “I don’t like it Anna, I’m close to retiring this sort of thing could really mess up my hope for a happy remuneration. Hell I’ve got little enough out of being posted out here in the dark. So I made a few mistakes, but I’ve paid my dues with interest, haven’t I?”
“I know,” replied Anna sympathising Mynae had always done the Forge proud even if she had a less than inspirational prior history, she deserved some recompense, “listen I’m not talking mutiny here or even removal. If you just get the Argon on a discreet recovery programme? Clean our Administrator up guide him away from the precipice, stitch up these wounds that seem to have afflicted his ego?”
“Not easy if he’s as paranoiac as you’re hinting Anna. Chances are even if I bring the subject up - he’ll just decide I am a traitor - and might act accordingly. Really this is not even my field. I mend bodies not minds that’s another issue altogether!” said Kalen.
“That’s a pity,” said Anna, “so what would the good doctor recommend?”
“Going on a holiday until this fell storm blows over,” Mynae answered twiddling with an eyedropper while looking at her desk forlornly.
“Not good enough,” said Anna, “if we do nothing the whole situation could explode in our faces anyway. Look at anything long, and hard enough and you will see nonexistent patterns. How long do you think it will be before Gregor starts making twenty two from two plus two? From my perception the Argon is getting more and more unhinged. The fact that we had a lets face it - minor situation - here has just added fuel to the fire!”
“Damn Anna why now?” cursed the Medical Officer, “I don’t have any magic shots to make this kind of pain go away. I wish I did, I’d take a triple dose myself! It’s not as if ArgonForge supplied us with any real psychologists only a few less than gifted part time goody do good weekend course councillors! Fek look at Loren for example: do you think that idiot has any idea what to do with a for real clinical paranoiac psychotic?”
“Forget Gregor is the Administrator, what if he was just another suit?” asked Anna.
“Easy,” said Mynae, “call in security march him in under guard for a random test. If positive throw the book at him or dress him down according to the situation, sack him, ship him out, or put him in rehab or an asylum. However, Gregors not just any suit - get real Anna - you must know most of the high flyers run on more than just coffee! If we make a move to take Gregor down it’s not just procedure it’s fekkin politics, unless you can convince your boss to dance naked in Hub One in front of a zillion cameras!”
“What about an oblique approach,” said Anna, “start a wide sweep, drug test other staff. Maybe that would put a shot across his bows make him reconsider his bad habits?”
“Might be worth a try but it could push him too, also if he is - truly hooked - and the way you describe things it isn’t looking good, frankly I doubt it will prove successful. Real addicts, well you would almost need to have been one to understand it. How deep down in that pit do you consider Gregor currently is?” questioned Mynae.
“I don’t know? I don’t even know if it is just the drugs or Gregor’s own natural mental condition with his new found habit on top!” said Anna, “I’m not a medical doctor after all never mind a mind bender. My qualifications lie in other sciences.”
“Self medicating,” said Mynae with a groan, “that would fit only too well! Paranid’s eyes this really is a horrendous procedure you’re proposing. I hate corporate politics!”
“Could you at least make a hidden discreet assessment keep it on secure file off the main system? That way we can be prepared to move if things do deteriorate. Besides Mynae it will look even worse on your record if Gregor goes space happy and you have done nothing about it!” noted Anna.
“If you insist Anna, look, leave it with me, but I’ll have to move slowly, we don’t want to put our subject under any additional pressure. Damn with all the refugee health screening I’ve not really had any time for even undertaking the shallow regular command staff psychological assessments those silly computerised question, and answer analysis electronic forms AF is so fond of, everything is back logged”, stated the Medical Officer.
“Not that the boys at central will take that as an excuse they will hang me out to dry in front of Sonra,” complained Mynae, “It’s cursed unfair it’s not as if ArgonForge have given me any extra staff. Well you know that damn well - my department is the last place to get even a little extra budget! Medical has just had to make do. Gregor probably spends more on entertaining buyers than I get for drugs and essential supplies,” exclaimed Mynae.
Anna shrugged, “Most of the serious medical stuff gets shipped out that’s AF policy, were not running a hospital here! Maybe you could talk Gregor into easing his workload a little. Gently tell him he is stressing his system with too much work,” noted Anna, “you’re the physician use the famous bedside manner!”
“Hah! Still lightening Gregors workload sounds like a sensible first approach,” nodded Mynae, “I think you should have a quiet word in Carl’s ear though Anna, if he is even a borderline paranoiac, Paranidia please don’t make it so, it is a serious security risk. Gregor has the self destruct key to the entire complex for feks sake!”
“You know I had forgot about that fact, you don’t really think he would…” Anna asked shocked, “No I still think it would be better coming from you Mynae only if, and after you are satisfied with a diagnosis! Otherwise it is too much like a long knife. Look I don’t want to see Gregor go down, I want to see him fixed up back in the driving seat hale and happy,” she said, “I owe a lot to that Argon he helped to get me to where I am today,” Anna lied smoothly!
Mynae scowled Anna was placing her right in the blasting pit. She was playing pass the parcel with a package sporting a visible detonator on top.
“I suppose I should thank you for your singular vote of confidence,” said Mynae somewhat sarcastically, thinking she should have known everything this end was running far too smoothly despite being swamped with work.
Anna smiled, “Chin up Carl is a last resort let’s try all the other options first!”
“Yes let’s,” repeated Mynae skilfully mocking Anna’s chirpy tone.
It was OK for the PA she would no doubt just breeze in later looking a progress report. It was old Mynae Kalen Chief Medical Officer that would have to go wade in the deep end - splash about without so much as a snorkel!
Sometime later after the PA had departed Mynae - still sitting at her desk - recalled the dread conversation, and really felt like she could do with a little something herself. The Medical Officer went in search of her stowed half empty bottle of space fuel, “Well,” she said to herself laughing, “this was clearly no cycle to think about quitting drinking - cheers,” Mynae said to the bulkhead before guzzling a good swallow of the fiery liquid straight.
Elsewhere on AFC 4 Shimoo believed she was hearing some good news?
“A Marine Archaeologist here on AFC 4?” questioned Shimoo, perking up.
“Yes, apparently he is sniffing around AF in search of funding for some dive back at Kingdom End,” said Garrin striving to appear non committal, “Anna said he has his hooks into one of the ex board members already. That individual had the Professor spirited aboard to make introductions to others with deeper still active corporate pockets.”
“I suppose this Academic will be at this evenings little entertainment then?” Shimoo enquired.
Shimoo couldn’t help thinking this had to have something to do with Anna being on station. Ex board member indeed, somehow Shimoo didn’t think so; Anna must have a long-standing covert interest in this watery project!
“So how did you hear about this love?” Shimoo asked.
“Didn’t I mention Anna had me collect the Professor in the ‘Grim Reaper’ I thought it was a funny coincidence, I mentioned how you my sweet were a student in the same field,” said Garrin feeling like hugging himself with self satisfied glee.
“So you have met this Argon already, I don’t suppose you remember his name?” questioned Shimoo with the tone of a mother who expected to be disappointed!
“Hyaegin, Professor Hyaegin,” G replied before cursing out a stream, “This jacket really is too small now!” he grumped.
Hyaegin well she remembered that one, chasing after rumours of the Boron Helpers without much success from recollection. Still Anna was not known for associating with failure, so something must have been uncovered some unseen or well covered potential find, and Garrin could give her an easy introduction.
“That sounds great,” said Shimoo, “I’ll actually have somebody I can talk to about more than the latest fashions, family affairs, or this never ending ghastly court case!”
At last, Shimoo thought, I am in business Hyaegin would be a lot easier to approach than the Icy Empress. Shimoo would flank the PA get on her team by the back door it was perfect!
“That’s nice,” said Garrin, “do I really have to wear this jacket? I’ll be uncomfortable all night long again,” he complained.
“Oh wear whatever you like,” said Shimoo, “just hurry up or we will disturb the beginning of the piece, and look like slack jawed colonial peasant farmers.”
“Terran chamber music,” said Garrin groaning, “Whatever will Gregor, and AF import next!”
In the Sector of the Wall in the ‘Fortress of the Damned’ the Wolves were discussing their previous strange exercise.
“So what by the fell lords of dark matter were those metal insect things anyway?” asked Sab.
“Arachnids,” explained Amon, “apparently along with the state of the art stuff, the Legion likes to take in failed shadow projects. Cannibalise them for parts, and or find new and imaginative applications beyond their original remit. One of the Veterans told me the Arachnids were failed (low grade AI) combat drones - meant to replace front line assault troops - for high-risk security, and boarding actions. Trouble was every time they were deployed - in a red zone - something went heinously wrong! Something about active AI, and weapons just never seems to work so well in my opinion.”
“Lots of friendly fire, mayhem, unexpected collateral damage, and so on. The project was culled after the principle AF research team got mauled when a final - supposedly fixative - exercise turned into a tragic runaway event! Some claimed it was actually sabotage by anti Artificial Intelligence activists rather than software bugs, but it was never proven! Anyway according to my vociferous source our esteemed Commander in Chief procured the Arachnid beasties had them disarmed, given a more basic program, and tooled them up for safe training purposes, and that my friends is the whole story!”
“Safe training purposes?” questioned Sab mockingly, “One of those things jumped right on my suit mid flight, and shut all my systems down - everything - except life support! I thought I was dead meat. Punctured the casing too with one of its legs if it hadn’t been for the self seal!” noted Sab, “Argon that is harsh!”
“Hmmm, I noticed you lost twenty tally points for suit damage. I thought you had hit something in the Rip, and were feeling a little embarrassed about it!” noted Amon.
“I didn’t hit anything despite the cunning new obstacles some fekker had placed, just for that purpose I’m sure,” complained Sab, “that fekkin Arachnid thing hit me, and hit me pretty hard! Just as well I have a sturdy disposition you try staring through a visor at a metal monstrosity, it’s not funny being examined by six beady camera eyes a few centimetres from your nose. Especially when the critter has what looked like hydraulic cutters for a mouth and an energy weapon for a crest!”
“Something to tell the grand children about,” noted Amon with a wicked grin, “next time you will think faster, and move quicker too - I suspect!”
“Could have been worse,” noted Bristle, “at least you didn’t need to see Shunt afterwards even if you filled both your bags with waste material!”
“I heard that,” replied the Wolves female medic, “their are a lot worse bone cutters than me in the crews, you should count yourselves lucky. Take the well named Wreath for example!”
“Wreath is pretty good,” defended Lyn, “he just tends to get the very worst cases. You can tell he actually cares about his crew he doesn’t just stitch up the meat!”
“I’m sure,” replied Jake, “what you doing sniffing round the Fallen Angels anyway Lyn, we got plenty of action right here,” he continued howling then panting before lolloping his tongue out and rolling over on his bunk with his limbs hooked in the air.
“Sit dog boy,” said Lyn, “go find another girl dog to wag your tail around! Does that pathetically infantile routine ever actually work?”
“I’m bored,” noted Amber stretching and touching her toes, “when are they going to let me blow something up around here?”
“Ouch,” said Tall Tale, “there goes the neighbourhood again kabooom!”
“We have some really mega munitions in the depot,” continued Amber dreamily, “could almost make the whole enforced Navy thing worthwhile. I don’t care who provides the fireworks so long as I get to set them off! All this training, and sitting about is no good though, I’m losing my edge. Hell I haven’t even got to play with a mine yet. Did you see those suit shoulder mounted anti fighter micro cluster missile launchers, how cool are those?”
“That’s our Amber Fire,” said Bright, “I love the way my little sister lights up the night sky!”
“Paranidia, Amon how did you track down so many mad females for this pack?” asked Jake, “did you run an advertisement in ‘Psychotic Femme Fatales Monthly’ or was it ‘Girls with Guns’ or something?”
“Guess I was just lucky,” said Amon striving to look entirely innocent, and failing.
“Pure coincidence then Mister Wolf,” said Bristle laughing, “pull the other one it jangles!”
Last edited by Paranoid66 on Mon, 21. Apr 08, 20:43, edited 2 times in total.
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Paranoid66
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chapter 38
Reapers Passage
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 38 – On Fateful Miscalculations and Nesting Devils
In Priests Pity after four cycles of searching with no further casualties Tur hoped the stealthy Paranid killer must have departed the well-named Anarchy Port. The consequences of the suspected Special Operatives all too easy exit remained a nagging worry, but the Pirate still prayed - to the shade lords of the darkest emptiness - that it was gone for good! The few Argon remaining on station were all now conscripted to the cause, nonetheless, only those that proved truly worthy could hope for the full dark baptism; to join his risen benighted brotherhood the Fallen Angel Clan!
Tur was filled with an icy rage the interrogation of the Worms had not given the results he had expected. His original assumption of simple collusion was starting to look shaky. Perhaps his hypothesis was nothing more than a product of culture shock. A voice in his head was laughing sardonically; information was still settling, memories that were not his own, opening erratically into less than restful crypts. While getting information out of the Paranid captives had proved neither an easy undertaking, nor quite the delicious challenge Tur might have at first imagined.
Physical pain was of little use against the hardy monsters - so psychological torture was employed instead. Humiliation heaped upon humiliation, Tur scoured the depth of his ruthlessness - even stunning his own new Clam members - with the fell nature of his capacities. A few Tur suspected had even developed a little dangerous sympathy with the captives despite their disgusting alien nature; well his deliberate regime of abuse would have shocked even him not so long ago, even the new Tur Ryn found his inventive cruelty occasionally gross in extremis. The shadow of his happy go lucky former self rode in the back seat like a passive passenger through the torture sessions. Luckily he had always hated, and despised the Worms, and so looked the other way absolving himself of responsibility, and any potential for debilitating guilt!
Several of the Nid had managed to kill themselves curling up, and going into some self induced catatonic state from which they had simply expired, torn and scrambled from the inside out. Souls sundered beyond any hope of recovery! Quickly the Devil had learned through his failures ever adjusting, refining, testing techniques, and methods. Tur learned how to blend skilful false hopes into the equation not just deeper, and blacker despair, give, and take were folded, and refolded in to the final mix as ancient craftsmen once folded carbon, and steel to make the finest of cutting blades. Finally when he felt ready the Devil commenced to work upon the stations one time leader the grizzled old veteran Kaddossallac, Joracs one time associate.
Like a virtuoso of the mind Tur had played the Nids ego building, and toppling stinging and massaging. It was a far more subtle process almost invisible - just on the surface a war of words - of ideas, an almost alien undertaking to the brutal, and messy often physical processes he had at first undertaken, yet nonetheless the procedure was still firmly founded on the failures, and successes of that past operation. The Paranid often even believed it had the upper hand, and would be able to eventually escape, and survive its ordeal - at least that was what Tur had at first intended, and surmised, perhaps less than correctly! It was not so much a case of breaking the Nid as levering its defences open slipping in layer-by-layer poking through like a cunning parasite to feast on what lay beneath the surface of the creatures mind. After many long seemingly innocent debates the barriers finally cracked, and separated releasing a stream of puzzling enlightenment, a surprisingly long tirade of profitable unguarded words!
“This voice box you gave is useless,” it complained, “how speak proper like backward child,” said Kaddossallac rumbling.
“It will suffice,” retorted the Arch Fallen Angel, “it is superior Paranid manufacture after all.”
Despite not being fully sanctioned recent events had convinced Tur the title must be his, even if the inner voice was silent at the blind assumption. The poor translation unit (truly an inferior item) was a deliberate humiliation forcing the intelligent old worm to sound stupid and infantile even to itself; just one clever defilement among oh so many!
“All this foolish, nothing, big mistake, you run back, hide among lesser beings. Death comes perhaps soon, comes for all see, not see” said Kaddos wrestling to get some proper meaning from the inferior translation device, “you have been marked one came, a blessing!”
The creature seemed oddly pleased despite its position this slightly unnerved the new Arch Fallen Angel a mild stain upon the feeling of control, the torturers superiority.
Recovering Tur claimed, “Death dances in my pocket,” adding a smirk for emphasis, the phrase had come almost unbidden like an invocation that demanded release of its own accord.
At this stage in the memory integration from his implant it was sometimes hard for Tur to tell if he was playing the memories or the memories playing him - the puppet strings seemed to jiggle in both directions.
“You not Jorac, just use same words, you’re empty! Just smelly leavings, why even try -without success - to punish Superior for inferior race failing. We ‘Lost to the Flame’ we respect Dark One, not protect, not shelter. Protect infants, shelter infirm - weak lesser creatures - low status beings! We honour Jorac, give chance - show worth - but you, you respect not! We open resting place - faith keep - make allowance; aliens common law, you, you betray own ways! This box no good how explain to - little mind - in such puny ill matched words, how measure deep truth?” complained Kaddos, “why speak at all?”
“Who kill Jorac? You tell maybe Tur take pity on Kaddossallac let old one live as pet on a short leash. Keep to rumble welcome to Paranid visitors,” said the Pirate using similar broken speech as that produced by the Nid’s box before chuckling, squirm on that hook you worm, he thought.
“You have nothing to give - Paranid choose own fate - time past. You not own, you not command, you never understand, you see too poorly, crippled two eye! I tell you this - not because of silly threat - but out of sympathy for fool weakness. You not take station because Paranid lose. You take station because Paranid strong. We not care! You fail understand. I tell again Kaddosallac respect Jorac still Paranid he not. Still seek transgressor Paranid resting place. Feel shame not find. Conclusion other Paranid! Clever not two eyed. Discover late Emperor have one, still here now. I wonder this one bless Jorac - great honour bestow - we first disbelieve! Jorac so worthy? Puzzle where sign - executioner mark - not understand, much confusion!”
“Still Kaddosallac not worthy, not challenge Light Walkers way, see dimly, suspect Argon never understand at all, see not tripartite path. Before wait, see what happen next, Jorac blood Argon go mad - grief understand - blow ship, being inferior fail kill self, change mind, now say taken? This Paranid business not, all business done with Jorac and blood, fines paid. Hands clean. After wait, stay hand, unworthy to cross Light Walkers path. You see even less fiery heart of truth than most. Your life ashes, and filth, empty; worthless we still Paranid if only shadow! Jorac die well, you ha, you live poorly! I speak no more, if one had not permit, Kaddosallac not speak at all! Name I unworthy to utter knows all, all-little alien souls now. This place survive, not survive only three know, you survive no survive same, you live holy wisdom, debt blood price taken, not matter Kaddosallac, Kaddosallac find rest - happy - one last time light shine on face, name will be spoken in fathers deep house three times, not cursed!”
That was Turs last conversation with the Chief Worm. After this Kaddosallac let out a mighty bellow that was picked up by its peers, and echoed around the detention area. What was the deafening alien roar: the sound of hate, or despair, or parting, a religious ritual a command or request? Whatever it meant, the old one folded up upon itself and ended. Shortly every remaining Paranid on the station did the same, another puzzle of the triple cursed fire dwelling worms!
What did any of it mean? Tur could hear ringing laughter inside his skull a loose but fractured pattern slowly forming. He was glad he could replay the broken words. Was the old Paranid mistaken or had Jorac actually been an Imperial target of assassination! Had his capture of the Anarchy Port been a capitulation by the Nid for there own typically unfathomable reasons. These were not the facts Tur had been seeking, but as Jorac often said ‘truth shapes itself!’ it was a puzzle.
Then what was with all the fish sign in ‘Elena’s Fortune’ and who were the Argons that had taken Kerry? Were they just smugglers spooked by the arrival of the Fallen Angels after all? Was it all disconnected or connected only in part? What really did the Paranid mean when it said this Station had fallen because they were strong? How much of Piracy for the Paranid was just a death wish? The three eyed were so alien he hated them, who could understand such strange convictions? It was possible he had outsmarted himself by giving the old creature that poor translation device.
Instead of feeling triumphant Tur felt ill at ease, restless, and angry. Maybe a Paranid fleet would come and burn the station with massed phase shockwave generators. What would that Paranid Special Forces Agent report if it had gone back to its superiors. Tur made secrets plans for a complete exodus, arranged specific rally points for his forces, and pre-planned diversions. He delved into the stations records, and hunted for other clues. He found no record that showed Jorac being murdered, not one camera angle, not even a reliable sensor log just convenient file corruptions.
Tur checked up on the ‘Red Slip’ and its registered owner Jon Flyn. Discovered the tale of a disappearing pilot a figure named Aik Thamas. Nothing in the data was remarkable nothing bespoke of fact over data fabrication either! Jon Flyn bothered him something about the name tickled memories not yet fully his own. The mirth was back this time a joyful chuckle that played upon his inner ear like a velvet seduction to a perceptual betrayal.
Tur wondered had his possession of Jorac’s memories been a bit rash, but the operation wasn’t something that could be undone, his mind, and machine were one it was too late to go back the operation couldn‘t be reversed. Only death would separate them now. Chances were the odd imbalances were just - a mild integration fever - something that would pass. Tur was still Tur, Jorac merely a history painted upon the enhancement - files to be read, the rest symptomatic of the integration process.
So many things to consider even the aftermath of the freak Paranid mass suicide. This had unexpected ramifications it reached out and touched his Fallen Angels with awe. Tur noticed a growing gulf of separation between himself, and even his few surviving veteran Argons he discovered the loneliness of command. Added to respect was a deeper sharper edge of fear maybe even a hint of distaste, the camaraderie was gone he was now the isolated leader Tur the Wyrm Slayer - Dragon Ender the Argon whose voice alone was a curse. In such ways are legends reborn. Well that was just a form of natural selection, evolution in action the separation of the wheat from the chaff? Or perhaps the dung that floats!
Tur kept digging he retraced events, he interviewed survivors, he replayed the records, he found the cut behind the equipment in the terminal access suite! Well that explained something - no Goner Transport at that point then, another error of first judgement! The Arch Fallen Angel kept his bodyguards close, and continued to make sweeps with the remote controlled drones the station was much more convoluted than it had first appeared. Tur waited, and watched, and slept seeking after an internal equilibrium. Often he dreamed of a much younger Kerry - dreams not his own - dreams under cloudy skies, rain dreams, sun dream, blood dreams. The slaughter of the guilty, and the massacre of innocents, the Falling of Night, the birth of a Devil amid green fields, mud, and rubble-strewn cities! The sounds, and sights of an infernal cradle haunted his rest the dull thump of distant munitions, the sharp glint that ever rests on the ultimate edge of even the most carefully darkened knife! The scream that lifts rather than curdles the blood!
Tentatively he took to sending out parties to raid Argon freighters in the Pity - after the dreams he found he blamed his own, besides it was prudent - if he could, he would appease the military Paranid? Tur reactivated Jorac’s Fallen Angels contacts, and scrutinised the Grid Sectors under satellite surveillance, and this network he updated and expanded as well. Of the ‘Red Slip’ nothing, of Jon Flyn silence, ‘Freedom Station’ itself remained a Boron haunted ghost of a memory something for later analysis. Slowly he became immune to that constant subliminal itch from the implant. He was sure Jorac knew the smuggler - but the trace was somehow undesirable deep, and dark - at the bottom of an abysmal well inaccessible, at least for the moment. The descent beckoned but maybe it was locked away for a reason maybe some part of him was afraid to look there!
Total recall might take cycles or years or never materialise to full clarity, memories are vague things even those trapped in a net. Tur kept the station locked down too, none but his own could enter, he refused docking rights to all would be visitors. No one was getting onboard until he had sorted out the stations inherent shortfalls. Maybe he would keep the port closed for good as an inviolate base. Somehow he had to find a counter to the alien stealth technology or spend every moment watching over his shoulder. Tur was tired of the company of guards this requirement felt like weakness not strength!
The station was an odd mismatch of highly advanced, and seemingly obsolete systems. The Paranid were truly bizarre. Some of the inner areas had been razed by the worms no doubt to protect their most precious secrets, secrets not even Jorac’s lore could penetrate. Some spaces had to be unblocked, and could only be accessed by crawling down blunt triangular shaped smooth chutes that twisted, turned, and interlinked in mind bending confusion, some of these led to rooms that were trapped by accident or design? Tur lost one tech to an unexpected bath in a potent chemical acid like material that filled a vast tank like structure. Another was badly burnt by an arc or electricity that charged a series of plates. A third suffered some form of radiation sickness, and remained alive but in isolation as a potential hazard to others. That contaminated area with - no known useful function - was now sealed off permanently. These places were a puzzle.
Other branching members opened into simple open gaps, spaces without doors whose use was anybodies guess - some also contained traces of odd chemical substances - again purposes unclear, signs of long ago equipment removal! Many of these spaces were either - too clean or too dusty - as if sealed up, and unused for decades had they some ritual purpose? Everything was Tri even the inner airlock doors split into three segments with swung apart, and linked together with alarming speed, luckily sensors prevented accidental dismemberment. Light fittings camera lens grates, and the bulkhead reinforcements all tri.
It reminded him of the Khaak who also seemed to favour pyramids, and triangles, was there some unknown commonality between these races? How many secrets did the Paranid really retain even their reproduction was a mystery, could they all be clones or was it something even more unsavoury, and incomprehensible? Then there was the material itself semi organic surfaces that made the Argons skin crawl. The station had its hydraulic cardio vascular system fluids pumped, and oozed behind some panels. Some functions operated not by motors but by what could only be described as muscles, and tendons. The deep inner workings were a horror that appeared to require a surgeon not an engineer! Luckily these body parts were tended by the stations own drones, and seemed self-repairing when damaged or should the word be injured.
Disgusted with these entrails Tur had the red lights replaced with Sonra standard glow units, all but the Bone Garden. That was kept, as it had been a reminder - a shrine to His Fall! The new Devil catalogued the ships seized, instigated a rapid recruitment strategy. Tur settled upon ancient air pressure density sensors as the ultimate counter to infiltration by stealth suited Paranid. It would require a vast new network, and a prodigious amount of processing power to separate standard pressure differentials from any really anomalous readings but with enough credits thrown at it, in theory at least it should work, Tur would need to recruit a real computer expert for that one!
The Pirate Leader waited for that fleet that would make all his effort redundant, and felt even less secure when it didn’t appear! Confusion to the enemy, whispered a sibilant hiss inside his skull.
In the meantime the remote controlled roving drones were given mobile density sensor systems, and sent out hunting once more - it was now a routine. They scoured previous missed tunnels, and access ways all the gaps in the walls the spaces above and below. They had to stop rest wait then scan, move stop rest scan, but it was better than nothing! The roving patrol became a constant operation run on a triple shift the significance of this amused Tur maybe he was going a little native it was surprising how quickly the subconscious adapts to new surroundings all Argon were chameleons?
Even more critters where uncovered in previously unknown areas housing more Paranid all deceased. The critters still alive were dispatched nothing truly dangerous as far as he could tell (most of the fauna was unknown to him and he didn’t have time to make a study) of the looked for enemy the uniquely equipped killer worm as usual no sign! Retrieving the corpses became a clean up issue especially these belated hidden Paranid. All of the Hidden as they became known had the same death sign as the suicides in the Brig, and by rough autopsy were granted the same time line. Many had died carrying weapons some of it serious stuff. It was a shocking revelation how close the Fallen Angels had been to an unseen counter attack.
The bodies just kept piling up the station was a hive of narrow gaps between – seemingly insignificant passage spaces – in truth it had been crawling as if filled to the brim with rats in the walls. At first Tur tried to hide the extent of these revelations. The almost calamity of his Fallen Angels being outmanoeuvred, and vastly overrun he feared such facts would show his own short sightedness, and damage morale, but the death toll was hard to hide. In the end it only added to his burgeoning reputation. Tur was credited with killing them all without even firing a shot. Of course the Devil must have known about the Hidden all along. His actions carefully instigated to create the mass suicide. Why else would Tur have ridden the captives, and the old one so hard? It all made perfect sense! Tur’s infamy spread among the onboard Argon like a pandemic contagion, how the inner voice woke and made merry with that!
So it continued the Devil sent periodic scout patrols to scour ‘Presidents End’ renewing his quest for a target - a hidden base - off the grid without success. He had the CCS purged, installed fresh Argon software that caused a multitude of glitches in the barely compatible Paranid systems.
Jess was given the responsibility for solving the compatibility issues (though at times the task seemed truly beyond her, and Tur wondered at his favouritism) luckily Jess studied, and worked diligently keen to impress, odd memories belonging to Jorac would surface occasionally allowing Tur to give extra guiding insights that sometimes resulted in minor breakthroughs. Alone among the fully anointed this relatively new recruit still seemed unguarded almost flirtatious. Her boldness was surprisingly attractive - this lone Argon among his crew didn’t fear, nor did she worship! Tur soon had her in his chambers, though he never let her stay over while he still slept so fitfully.
In the end great chunks of hardware had to be ripped out, and ditched, replaced with more familiar systems bought in via the black market at extra heavy expense. Luckily the sacrificial Argon freighters just kept coming these ships his crew willingly raped then dispatched to the ever-welcoming Paranid shipyards; refilling the Fallen Angels coffers as quickly as they emptied! When armed escorts started appearing they were destroyed or captured too. The Angels always made sure they vastly outnumbered their opponents.
Priests Pity became a killing field; when many Argon pilots started taking alternative routes Tur commenced a willing campaign against the Boron. Tur heard rumour that complaints were issued forth from both races sent to representatives of the Priest Emperor itself. It actually made the local news but Pontifex Maximus Paranidia seemed not to care about this diplomatic effort or the Argon or Boron’s tedious rhetoric. The Paranid stood firm denouncing the play-acting affront as illegitimate complaints by weak regimes ill able to look after their own. This was not an issue for the Paranid if it was then would not Paranid, and Split, and Teladi merchants be suffering too. Obviously Piracy was not a threat in Paranid space it was just Argon, and Boron carelessness or perhaps an ingenious new - free merchant - insurance scam, another something for nothing credit farming exercise by credit grubbing perfidious low lives.
Tur was for the first time amused by the worms. As he had hoped the Paranid had always been pride fully self-sufficient. They still had full-unblemished trade with the Teladi, and Split anyway besides it was just one Gate Grid. They cared nothing about his depredations upon the Argon, and Boron traffic this fact had been in Jorac’s memory too. Indeed the sector patrols were showing themselves to be increasingly friendly, turning all three eyes away at all the appropriate moments. To his surprise they stopped even scanning his troops except on the rarest of occasions.
Nonetheless, Tur remained wary, and distrustful of this unspoken, unwritten alliance. The Paranid’s fuller reasoning was still very much a mystery to the Pirate Lord. Trust was not in him - well to trust one had first to know, to understand - besides in his shadowed heart Tur still counted the Paranid high among his enemies. A truce was just currently expedient! Building his forces Tur waited like a bloated spider at the heart of a growing web waiting for fools to drop into his snares. Spinning ever outward he turned his eye once more to ‘Elena’s Fortune’ perhaps in the Sector that held ‘Freedom Station’ he would find a new trail to Kerry. Tur Ryn, the Devil, the Arch Fallen Angel would uncover a new path via the old portal of his lost station (the other unfinished business) the one that began with - his - loss of Freedom?
X3 Fan Fiction by Paranoid66
Chapter 38 – On Fateful Miscalculations and Nesting Devils
In Priests Pity after four cycles of searching with no further casualties Tur hoped the stealthy Paranid killer must have departed the well-named Anarchy Port. The consequences of the suspected Special Operatives all too easy exit remained a nagging worry, but the Pirate still prayed - to the shade lords of the darkest emptiness - that it was gone for good! The few Argon remaining on station were all now conscripted to the cause, nonetheless, only those that proved truly worthy could hope for the full dark baptism; to join his risen benighted brotherhood the Fallen Angel Clan!
Tur was filled with an icy rage the interrogation of the Worms had not given the results he had expected. His original assumption of simple collusion was starting to look shaky. Perhaps his hypothesis was nothing more than a product of culture shock. A voice in his head was laughing sardonically; information was still settling, memories that were not his own, opening erratically into less than restful crypts. While getting information out of the Paranid captives had proved neither an easy undertaking, nor quite the delicious challenge Tur might have at first imagined.
Physical pain was of little use against the hardy monsters - so psychological torture was employed instead. Humiliation heaped upon humiliation, Tur scoured the depth of his ruthlessness - even stunning his own new Clam members - with the fell nature of his capacities. A few Tur suspected had even developed a little dangerous sympathy with the captives despite their disgusting alien nature; well his deliberate regime of abuse would have shocked even him not so long ago, even the new Tur Ryn found his inventive cruelty occasionally gross in extremis. The shadow of his happy go lucky former self rode in the back seat like a passive passenger through the torture sessions. Luckily he had always hated, and despised the Worms, and so looked the other way absolving himself of responsibility, and any potential for debilitating guilt!
Several of the Nid had managed to kill themselves curling up, and going into some self induced catatonic state from which they had simply expired, torn and scrambled from the inside out. Souls sundered beyond any hope of recovery! Quickly the Devil had learned through his failures ever adjusting, refining, testing techniques, and methods. Tur learned how to blend skilful false hopes into the equation not just deeper, and blacker despair, give, and take were folded, and refolded in to the final mix as ancient craftsmen once folded carbon, and steel to make the finest of cutting blades. Finally when he felt ready the Devil commenced to work upon the stations one time leader the grizzled old veteran Kaddossallac, Joracs one time associate.
Like a virtuoso of the mind Tur had played the Nids ego building, and toppling stinging and massaging. It was a far more subtle process almost invisible - just on the surface a war of words - of ideas, an almost alien undertaking to the brutal, and messy often physical processes he had at first undertaken, yet nonetheless the procedure was still firmly founded on the failures, and successes of that past operation. The Paranid often even believed it had the upper hand, and would be able to eventually escape, and survive its ordeal - at least that was what Tur had at first intended, and surmised, perhaps less than correctly! It was not so much a case of breaking the Nid as levering its defences open slipping in layer-by-layer poking through like a cunning parasite to feast on what lay beneath the surface of the creatures mind. After many long seemingly innocent debates the barriers finally cracked, and separated releasing a stream of puzzling enlightenment, a surprisingly long tirade of profitable unguarded words!
“This voice box you gave is useless,” it complained, “how speak proper like backward child,” said Kaddossallac rumbling.
“It will suffice,” retorted the Arch Fallen Angel, “it is superior Paranid manufacture after all.”
Despite not being fully sanctioned recent events had convinced Tur the title must be his, even if the inner voice was silent at the blind assumption. The poor translation unit (truly an inferior item) was a deliberate humiliation forcing the intelligent old worm to sound stupid and infantile even to itself; just one clever defilement among oh so many!
“All this foolish, nothing, big mistake, you run back, hide among lesser beings. Death comes perhaps soon, comes for all see, not see” said Kaddos wrestling to get some proper meaning from the inferior translation device, “you have been marked one came, a blessing!”
The creature seemed oddly pleased despite its position this slightly unnerved the new Arch Fallen Angel a mild stain upon the feeling of control, the torturers superiority.
Recovering Tur claimed, “Death dances in my pocket,” adding a smirk for emphasis, the phrase had come almost unbidden like an invocation that demanded release of its own accord.
At this stage in the memory integration from his implant it was sometimes hard for Tur to tell if he was playing the memories or the memories playing him - the puppet strings seemed to jiggle in both directions.
“You not Jorac, just use same words, you’re empty! Just smelly leavings, why even try -without success - to punish Superior for inferior race failing. We ‘Lost to the Flame’ we respect Dark One, not protect, not shelter. Protect infants, shelter infirm - weak lesser creatures - low status beings! We honour Jorac, give chance - show worth - but you, you respect not! We open resting place - faith keep - make allowance; aliens common law, you, you betray own ways! This box no good how explain to - little mind - in such puny ill matched words, how measure deep truth?” complained Kaddos, “why speak at all?”
“Who kill Jorac? You tell maybe Tur take pity on Kaddossallac let old one live as pet on a short leash. Keep to rumble welcome to Paranid visitors,” said the Pirate using similar broken speech as that produced by the Nid’s box before chuckling, squirm on that hook you worm, he thought.
“You have nothing to give - Paranid choose own fate - time past. You not own, you not command, you never understand, you see too poorly, crippled two eye! I tell you this - not because of silly threat - but out of sympathy for fool weakness. You not take station because Paranid lose. You take station because Paranid strong. We not care! You fail understand. I tell again Kaddosallac respect Jorac still Paranid he not. Still seek transgressor Paranid resting place. Feel shame not find. Conclusion other Paranid! Clever not two eyed. Discover late Emperor have one, still here now. I wonder this one bless Jorac - great honour bestow - we first disbelieve! Jorac so worthy? Puzzle where sign - executioner mark - not understand, much confusion!”
“Still Kaddosallac not worthy, not challenge Light Walkers way, see dimly, suspect Argon never understand at all, see not tripartite path. Before wait, see what happen next, Jorac blood Argon go mad - grief understand - blow ship, being inferior fail kill self, change mind, now say taken? This Paranid business not, all business done with Jorac and blood, fines paid. Hands clean. After wait, stay hand, unworthy to cross Light Walkers path. You see even less fiery heart of truth than most. Your life ashes, and filth, empty; worthless we still Paranid if only shadow! Jorac die well, you ha, you live poorly! I speak no more, if one had not permit, Kaddosallac not speak at all! Name I unworthy to utter knows all, all-little alien souls now. This place survive, not survive only three know, you survive no survive same, you live holy wisdom, debt blood price taken, not matter Kaddosallac, Kaddosallac find rest - happy - one last time light shine on face, name will be spoken in fathers deep house three times, not cursed!”
That was Turs last conversation with the Chief Worm. After this Kaddosallac let out a mighty bellow that was picked up by its peers, and echoed around the detention area. What was the deafening alien roar: the sound of hate, or despair, or parting, a religious ritual a command or request? Whatever it meant, the old one folded up upon itself and ended. Shortly every remaining Paranid on the station did the same, another puzzle of the triple cursed fire dwelling worms!
What did any of it mean? Tur could hear ringing laughter inside his skull a loose but fractured pattern slowly forming. He was glad he could replay the broken words. Was the old Paranid mistaken or had Jorac actually been an Imperial target of assassination! Had his capture of the Anarchy Port been a capitulation by the Nid for there own typically unfathomable reasons. These were not the facts Tur had been seeking, but as Jorac often said ‘truth shapes itself!’ it was a puzzle.
Then what was with all the fish sign in ‘Elena’s Fortune’ and who were the Argons that had taken Kerry? Were they just smugglers spooked by the arrival of the Fallen Angels after all? Was it all disconnected or connected only in part? What really did the Paranid mean when it said this Station had fallen because they were strong? How much of Piracy for the Paranid was just a death wish? The three eyed were so alien he hated them, who could understand such strange convictions? It was possible he had outsmarted himself by giving the old creature that poor translation device.
Instead of feeling triumphant Tur felt ill at ease, restless, and angry. Maybe a Paranid fleet would come and burn the station with massed phase shockwave generators. What would that Paranid Special Forces Agent report if it had gone back to its superiors. Tur made secrets plans for a complete exodus, arranged specific rally points for his forces, and pre-planned diversions. He delved into the stations records, and hunted for other clues. He found no record that showed Jorac being murdered, not one camera angle, not even a reliable sensor log just convenient file corruptions.
Tur checked up on the ‘Red Slip’ and its registered owner Jon Flyn. Discovered the tale of a disappearing pilot a figure named Aik Thamas. Nothing in the data was remarkable nothing bespoke of fact over data fabrication either! Jon Flyn bothered him something about the name tickled memories not yet fully his own. The mirth was back this time a joyful chuckle that played upon his inner ear like a velvet seduction to a perceptual betrayal.
Tur wondered had his possession of Jorac’s memories been a bit rash, but the operation wasn’t something that could be undone, his mind, and machine were one it was too late to go back the operation couldn‘t be reversed. Only death would separate them now. Chances were the odd imbalances were just - a mild integration fever - something that would pass. Tur was still Tur, Jorac merely a history painted upon the enhancement - files to be read, the rest symptomatic of the integration process.
So many things to consider even the aftermath of the freak Paranid mass suicide. This had unexpected ramifications it reached out and touched his Fallen Angels with awe. Tur noticed a growing gulf of separation between himself, and even his few surviving veteran Argons he discovered the loneliness of command. Added to respect was a deeper sharper edge of fear maybe even a hint of distaste, the camaraderie was gone he was now the isolated leader Tur the Wyrm Slayer - Dragon Ender the Argon whose voice alone was a curse. In such ways are legends reborn. Well that was just a form of natural selection, evolution in action the separation of the wheat from the chaff? Or perhaps the dung that floats!
Tur kept digging he retraced events, he interviewed survivors, he replayed the records, he found the cut behind the equipment in the terminal access suite! Well that explained something - no Goner Transport at that point then, another error of first judgement! The Arch Fallen Angel kept his bodyguards close, and continued to make sweeps with the remote controlled drones the station was much more convoluted than it had first appeared. Tur waited, and watched, and slept seeking after an internal equilibrium. Often he dreamed of a much younger Kerry - dreams not his own - dreams under cloudy skies, rain dreams, sun dream, blood dreams. The slaughter of the guilty, and the massacre of innocents, the Falling of Night, the birth of a Devil amid green fields, mud, and rubble-strewn cities! The sounds, and sights of an infernal cradle haunted his rest the dull thump of distant munitions, the sharp glint that ever rests on the ultimate edge of even the most carefully darkened knife! The scream that lifts rather than curdles the blood!
Tentatively he took to sending out parties to raid Argon freighters in the Pity - after the dreams he found he blamed his own, besides it was prudent - if he could, he would appease the military Paranid? Tur reactivated Jorac’s Fallen Angels contacts, and scrutinised the Grid Sectors under satellite surveillance, and this network he updated and expanded as well. Of the ‘Red Slip’ nothing, of Jon Flyn silence, ‘Freedom Station’ itself remained a Boron haunted ghost of a memory something for later analysis. Slowly he became immune to that constant subliminal itch from the implant. He was sure Jorac knew the smuggler - but the trace was somehow undesirable deep, and dark - at the bottom of an abysmal well inaccessible, at least for the moment. The descent beckoned but maybe it was locked away for a reason maybe some part of him was afraid to look there!
Total recall might take cycles or years or never materialise to full clarity, memories are vague things even those trapped in a net. Tur kept the station locked down too, none but his own could enter, he refused docking rights to all would be visitors. No one was getting onboard until he had sorted out the stations inherent shortfalls. Maybe he would keep the port closed for good as an inviolate base. Somehow he had to find a counter to the alien stealth technology or spend every moment watching over his shoulder. Tur was tired of the company of guards this requirement felt like weakness not strength!
The station was an odd mismatch of highly advanced, and seemingly obsolete systems. The Paranid were truly bizarre. Some of the inner areas had been razed by the worms no doubt to protect their most precious secrets, secrets not even Jorac’s lore could penetrate. Some spaces had to be unblocked, and could only be accessed by crawling down blunt triangular shaped smooth chutes that twisted, turned, and interlinked in mind bending confusion, some of these led to rooms that were trapped by accident or design? Tur lost one tech to an unexpected bath in a potent chemical acid like material that filled a vast tank like structure. Another was badly burnt by an arc or electricity that charged a series of plates. A third suffered some form of radiation sickness, and remained alive but in isolation as a potential hazard to others. That contaminated area with - no known useful function - was now sealed off permanently. These places were a puzzle.
Other branching members opened into simple open gaps, spaces without doors whose use was anybodies guess - some also contained traces of odd chemical substances - again purposes unclear, signs of long ago equipment removal! Many of these spaces were either - too clean or too dusty - as if sealed up, and unused for decades had they some ritual purpose? Everything was Tri even the inner airlock doors split into three segments with swung apart, and linked together with alarming speed, luckily sensors prevented accidental dismemberment. Light fittings camera lens grates, and the bulkhead reinforcements all tri.
It reminded him of the Khaak who also seemed to favour pyramids, and triangles, was there some unknown commonality between these races? How many secrets did the Paranid really retain even their reproduction was a mystery, could they all be clones or was it something even more unsavoury, and incomprehensible? Then there was the material itself semi organic surfaces that made the Argons skin crawl. The station had its hydraulic cardio vascular system fluids pumped, and oozed behind some panels. Some functions operated not by motors but by what could only be described as muscles, and tendons. The deep inner workings were a horror that appeared to require a surgeon not an engineer! Luckily these body parts were tended by the stations own drones, and seemed self-repairing when damaged or should the word be injured.
Disgusted with these entrails Tur had the red lights replaced with Sonra standard glow units, all but the Bone Garden. That was kept, as it had been a reminder - a shrine to His Fall! The new Devil catalogued the ships seized, instigated a rapid recruitment strategy. Tur settled upon ancient air pressure density sensors as the ultimate counter to infiltration by stealth suited Paranid. It would require a vast new network, and a prodigious amount of processing power to separate standard pressure differentials from any really anomalous readings but with enough credits thrown at it, in theory at least it should work, Tur would need to recruit a real computer expert for that one!
The Pirate Leader waited for that fleet that would make all his effort redundant, and felt even less secure when it didn’t appear! Confusion to the enemy, whispered a sibilant hiss inside his skull.
In the meantime the remote controlled roving drones were given mobile density sensor systems, and sent out hunting once more - it was now a routine. They scoured previous missed tunnels, and access ways all the gaps in the walls the spaces above and below. They had to stop rest wait then scan, move stop rest scan, but it was better than nothing! The roving patrol became a constant operation run on a triple shift the significance of this amused Tur maybe he was going a little native it was surprising how quickly the subconscious adapts to new surroundings all Argon were chameleons?
Even more critters where uncovered in previously unknown areas housing more Paranid all deceased. The critters still alive were dispatched nothing truly dangerous as far as he could tell (most of the fauna was unknown to him and he didn’t have time to make a study) of the looked for enemy the uniquely equipped killer worm as usual no sign! Retrieving the corpses became a clean up issue especially these belated hidden Paranid. All of the Hidden as they became known had the same death sign as the suicides in the Brig, and by rough autopsy were granted the same time line. Many had died carrying weapons some of it serious stuff. It was a shocking revelation how close the Fallen Angels had been to an unseen counter attack.
The bodies just kept piling up the station was a hive of narrow gaps between – seemingly insignificant passage spaces – in truth it had been crawling as if filled to the brim with rats in the walls. At first Tur tried to hide the extent of these revelations. The almost calamity of his Fallen Angels being outmanoeuvred, and vastly overrun he feared such facts would show his own short sightedness, and damage morale, but the death toll was hard to hide. In the end it only added to his burgeoning reputation. Tur was credited with killing them all without even firing a shot. Of course the Devil must have known about the Hidden all along. His actions carefully instigated to create the mass suicide. Why else would Tur have ridden the captives, and the old one so hard? It all made perfect sense! Tur’s infamy spread among the onboard Argon like a pandemic contagion, how the inner voice woke and made merry with that!
So it continued the Devil sent periodic scout patrols to scour ‘Presidents End’ renewing his quest for a target - a hidden base - off the grid without success. He had the CCS purged, installed fresh Argon software that caused a multitude of glitches in the barely compatible Paranid systems.
Jess was given the responsibility for solving the compatibility issues (though at times the task seemed truly beyond her, and Tur wondered at his favouritism) luckily Jess studied, and worked diligently keen to impress, odd memories belonging to Jorac would surface occasionally allowing Tur to give extra guiding insights that sometimes resulted in minor breakthroughs. Alone among the fully anointed this relatively new recruit still seemed unguarded almost flirtatious. Her boldness was surprisingly attractive - this lone Argon among his crew didn’t fear, nor did she worship! Tur soon had her in his chambers, though he never let her stay over while he still slept so fitfully.
In the end great chunks of hardware had to be ripped out, and ditched, replaced with more familiar systems bought in via the black market at extra heavy expense. Luckily the sacrificial Argon freighters just kept coming these ships his crew willingly raped then dispatched to the ever-welcoming Paranid shipyards; refilling the Fallen Angels coffers as quickly as they emptied! When armed escorts started appearing they were destroyed or captured too. The Angels always made sure they vastly outnumbered their opponents.
Priests Pity became a killing field; when many Argon pilots started taking alternative routes Tur commenced a willing campaign against the Boron. Tur heard rumour that complaints were issued forth from both races sent to representatives of the Priest Emperor itself. It actually made the local news but Pontifex Maximus Paranidia seemed not to care about this diplomatic effort or the Argon or Boron’s tedious rhetoric. The Paranid stood firm denouncing the play-acting affront as illegitimate complaints by weak regimes ill able to look after their own. This was not an issue for the Paranid if it was then would not Paranid, and Split, and Teladi merchants be suffering too. Obviously Piracy was not a threat in Paranid space it was just Argon, and Boron carelessness or perhaps an ingenious new - free merchant - insurance scam, another something for nothing credit farming exercise by credit grubbing perfidious low lives.
Tur was for the first time amused by the worms. As he had hoped the Paranid had always been pride fully self-sufficient. They still had full-unblemished trade with the Teladi, and Split anyway besides it was just one Gate Grid. They cared nothing about his depredations upon the Argon, and Boron traffic this fact had been in Jorac’s memory too. Indeed the sector patrols were showing themselves to be increasingly friendly, turning all three eyes away at all the appropriate moments. To his surprise they stopped even scanning his troops except on the rarest of occasions.
Nonetheless, Tur remained wary, and distrustful of this unspoken, unwritten alliance. The Paranid’s fuller reasoning was still very much a mystery to the Pirate Lord. Trust was not in him - well to trust one had first to know, to understand - besides in his shadowed heart Tur still counted the Paranid high among his enemies. A truce was just currently expedient! Building his forces Tur waited like a bloated spider at the heart of a growing web waiting for fools to drop into his snares. Spinning ever outward he turned his eye once more to ‘Elena’s Fortune’ perhaps in the Sector that held ‘Freedom Station’ he would find a new trail to Kerry. Tur Ryn, the Devil, the Arch Fallen Angel would uncover a new path via the old portal of his lost station (the other unfinished business) the one that began with - his - loss of Freedom?
Last edited by Paranoid66 on Mon, 21. Apr 08, 20:44, edited 2 times in total.