Rogues Revenge Ch 27 pt 4 posted 31/3/04

[SteveMill]

Part 4 below the -----------

It can also be read on the Space Ritual Forum, from my sig.

Steve

Chapter 27: Showdown

The Enterprise did not deviate from its course. It would, Patterson passed estimated, reach the communications relay, twenty minutes before the Black Heart. “Can I assume the station is secure?” Law asked evenly. Patterson’s face was like a big, high definition view-screen, revealing every pore and follicle of his thought processes with crystal clarity but Law let him answer, just to measure the man.

“The base is completely locked down and the system safeguards,” the hesitation was fractional but telling, “robust.”

“Robust has never proven adequate where Force was concerned,” Law snapped contemptuously and Patterson’s face whitened under his old spacer’s tan. ‘Was!’ Law savoured the word, allowed it to warm his stomach, before continuing. “Force is dead but his people still seem motivated. They penetrated station security so I’m sure they can get through a few standard security protocols. It was assumed nothing could interfere with the relay without our intervention so no beyond-the-call of duty precautions were taken.”

It was a statement not a question and Patterson just nodded, his lips pursed tight and thin. Law let the tension build until the only sounds were the subdued electronic chatter of the bridge systems and his own harsh, wheezing breath.

“I have reason to believe their ability to work miracles has been removed,” he stated, recalling his destruction of the out-of-place and unfamiliar looking repair droid. “So perhaps your optimism will hold long enough for us to intervene. Any signal from that ship?”

“Nothing Admiral,” Patterson reported, almost completely masking the tremor in his voice.

“Are all fighters ready to launch?”

“Standing on your word,” Patterson confirmed.

Law eased his bulk back into the protesting leather and waited as the Black Heart ploughed remorselessly towards the Enterprise. As the two ships converged on the asteroid and the distance separating them closed without any communication only he remained immune to the fear that filled the air like ozone from an unshielded power relay. Patterson had barely looked up from his panel to mark the distance with a curt ‘One hundred klicks and closing,’ when the Helm officer turned, her eyes wide and voice trembling. “Fighters launching!”

Patterson flashed the data onto the main viewer. “Twenty ships Admiral, twelve Bayamons, five Mambas and three Eels.”

They outmatch us. He didn’t say it, he didn’t have to. Force had bloodied their noses repeatedly and now the expectation of defeat was in his tone. Law regretted not being able to exhibit the corpses of his enemies to stiffen backbones.

“Contact the Force ships again. I want to be heard by everyone, including the gate picket fighters. Understood?”

Patterson stood hunched over the communications post, muttering in a soothing tone to the Teladi female officer as he claws skittered staccato over her board. “Boosting power, refocusing the array,” Patterson relayed over his shoulder. A quickly muted feedback howl sliced through the bridge like a sonic blade on overload and Patterson nodded readiness.

“This is Law, chief of the Stoertebeker Clan.” His voice became silk, dripping reason. “Your leaders are dead and a Split destroyer will be here within the hour. By the time you learn what you seek to learn your ship will be a burning hulk. You will all die. You will all die for nothing. Join me, join my Clan and live in prosperity.”

He counted silently to three and let his voice acquire a jagged, venomous edge.

“I claim your vessels as my own. Any resistance and all will…” Law drew out the pause like a old steel razor peeling the scalp from a skull. “Suffer, at length.” He turned to address Patterson, deliberately keeping the channel open. “Launch Wing One, all strike squadrons to launch status.”

He cut the channel and smiled as Patterson gave the launch order. Force was not the only one capable of bluffing and in the confusion caused by his and Jackson’s death he was confident his words and his bluff would paralyse the two ill-matched factions. Force’s Raiders might be mercenaries of above the norm rectitude and discipline but the Confederation were just pirates, regardless of the pretensions and ambitions of their leader. Scum - leaderless scum with nothing to gain and everything to lose and they were as good as his.

The Black Heart decelerated so as not to outpace the thirty assorted Clan fighters spread out before it like a shield. The Force fighters formed into two ragged packs, a right fist of heavy fighters and a left jab of Bayamons poised over them. Law was no tactician but the plan was clear. The Confederation ships would keep his fighters busy while the Raiders went for the Heart. The tension on the bridge began to develop an edge of panic and as the remnants of the two fleets closed it began to flense his nerves too. That they still fought at all let alone fought as one defied everything Law knew about the type of men drawn to the lives of mercenaries and pirates.

“Our fighters will lose.” Patterson barely breathed the words lest they infect the bridge with panic and the breaking tremor in his voice told of the effort it took to voice that truth. Law nodded. Beads of cold sweat formed along his ragged hairline and slid stinging down his scarred face as he groped for an alternative strategy. There remained none. Both jumpgates were too well defended for the jumpdrive to be a useful tactical device. All he could do was fight or withdraw from the sector completely.

And then what? Eke out the remainder of his days as the leader of a base-less Clan, dependent entirely on the goodwill of Morn? Once they jumped out of this sector he knew they would not be able to get back. The Powers would blockade the sector beyond any chance to deploy a navigation satellite. Patterson read his thoughts, so it seemed.

‘We could head directly for the ‘destination’, if you provide us with the coordinates Admiral,’ he tentatively suggested. “And hope for something to show up in the mean-time?” Law snapped. “If we cannot beat them now how could we expect to defeat them later?” His voice rose to an angry roar and a familiar red mist rose before his eyes, swathing his faculties in a shroud of flesh-rending rage.

“Open all channels, open all channels damn you!”

The Teladi female froze at her post and Law was upon her in a second, grapping her by her smooth, cool throat and smashing her head back onto her board. He kept pounding until the panel was slick with blood and the quivering pulse beneath his fingers stilled.

“The channels are open Admiral,” Patterson said. “Audio and visual,” he added pointedly. Law lifted the corpse and hurled it to one side and stormed to the front of the bridge to stand before the view-screen.

“I am Law!” He held up a bloody hand. “And I will destroy all who oppose me. One hundred thousand credits to all who come under my banner and a painful, lingering death to those who do not. You have no other choice, you have no other choice!” What little self-control remained was almost eaten away by the continued defiance of his leaderless enemies and his screaming threats incoherent as he kicked the bloodied body of the Teladi communications specialist, each snapping bone sending his further into the abyss of his own psychosis.

“Admiral, Admiral!”

The voice was distant, like the cry of a bird against the pounding roar of an ocean storm and someone pulled at his shoulder. His fist smashed back into a face and he turned to see Patterson picking himself off the deck, his nose a bloodied pulp. He shuffled back in terror as Law advanced. ‘Sire, the screen…look!”

The words barely forced themselves through the blood pounding in his ears but he turned and looked.

The glowing trails of distant weapons fire, punctuated by the flashing death of ships, stood stark against the stars. Without needing to be told the Helm officer increased the magnification and Law snarled in triumph as Bayamons fought Mambas and Eels in a tangled mass of plasma fire.

“Incoming transmission from the Enterprise Admiral,” Patterson said, slumped over his console, blood still pouring down his face, a black stain spreading over his tunic. “On-screen.”

Law turned and his snarl metamorphosed into a smile of triumph and vindication.

“I now command,” roared a Paranid over the cacophonous riot of sirens, screams and the high buzzing whine of weapons fire. He stood from the Command chair and fired a pistol point blank into the chest of an Argon male looming behind him, catapulting him back and out of sight. Smoke drifted across the screen, almost obscuring the Enterprise bridge, but the sights and sounds were clear in their implication.

Mutiny.

“I speak for the Confederation and I lead,” the Paranid stated as the screen cleared and the sound of fighting subsided. “Sire, we must meet,” he said, addressing Law directly. “I have two prisoners that will interest you greatly.”


“The Paranid is demanding the Raiders and their allies stand down,” Patterson reported from the communications station. His brow furrowed and he unconsciously touched an index finger to the relay earpiece. He kept one eye on a tactical display set to monitor the internecine fighter battle. An isolated Mamba exploded as he watched, pinned in Bayamon cross-fire, the pilot punching out through the explosion in the bar nick of time. The fighting had extended now, to the ships blockading the jumpgates.

“Multiple responses, attempting to clear.” He tentatively flicked through the comms option menu, just to give the impression that he knew what he was doing but Patterson couldn’t make out more than fragments from the inchoate tangle of pilot voices. Only the direct audio relay from the Enterprise came through distinct.

“Slow to one hundred, launch every fighter we have,” Law ordered from the command seat. “Escort formation. Let’s provide another incentive for reason to prevail.” His voice was measured, calm – as if the murderous rage has been just switched off like a light but the distinctively sweet tang of Teladi blood hung over the Bridge, falling almost as heavy as the brutality of the act itself.

“He is threatening to begin executing hostages Admiral, and promising safe passage to an independent sector to all those who do not wish to join the Confederation.”

“Give me another all-channel flood,” Law ordered. “I will speak.”

Fortunately the link to the comms relay remained set on stand-by and all Patterson had to do was switch relays and avoid touching the flecks of grey matter staining the controls.

“Channel open Sire.”

“Attention Raiders pilots, you have fought well but you have nowhere to go. With the Force Corporation destroyed there is no haven for you this side of the Xenon divide. Surrender now and I too guarantee safe passage and a substantial reward. There is honour in fighting a lost code, but no future. When my allies arrive there will be no quarter. Stand down now.”

Law slashed the edge of his hand like a blade across his throat and Patterson closed the channel.

Threats and blandishments, rocks and hard places, it did not, Patterson mused silently, take much to sway loyalties made hopeless by circumstance. One by one the Raiders pilots signalled their surrender and set course for the Enterprise and Law and the Paranid spoke again. The negotiations were perfunctory under the circumstances with the Paranid agreeing to almost all of Law’s terms. Shrewdly, he refused to stand down the gate pickets, ‘until the terms of our alliance are concluded.’

Law suggested a meeting aboard the Black Heart, the Paranid countered with the Enterprise.

“You do not trust me,” Law observed in the even tone that to those familiar with his moods signified a rage boiling beneath a thin ice carapace of reason.

“Trust no-one, is my rule,” the Paranid grunted. “Observe where trust has left Force and his allies.”

It was, Law conceded, a very good point. They would meet on board the relay station to finalise the terms of the new alliance - an unarmed ship, the Paranid and two escorts with sidearms only plus the prisoners to be handed over immediately, as a sign of ‘good will’.

“And all ships to observe a ten kilometre exclusion zone, to prevent any teleport surprises,” Law added. “The unarmed ship provision of course applies only to you. I will be escorted. If we are to be allies you must show obedience. We cannot fight because even if you win you will destroy the key to unlimited power.”

He flourished the data chip and holding the Paranid’s triple-eyed gaze, stared him down.

“Agreed.” The word appeared to stick in his throat. “We will utilise a single Argon Lifter.”

“That class is unarmed Admiral,” Patterson observed quietly. Law nodded acknowledgement.

“The terms are acceptable,” Law agreed. Triumph oozed from his voice like juices seeping from a well-roasted joint of meat.

“Display for me the asteroid schematics,” Law ordered. There was just a single docking bay and with careful pilots could berth three freighters. There was also, Law observed a functioning teleporter. “Have a full security squad standing by on the Black Heart transporter,” Law ordered, “And be prepared to move into teleport range at my command.”

“You suspect deceit Admiral?”

Law regarded him with one raised brow.

“This Confederation creature was recently with and some of his wiles may have rubbed off. Deploy a navigation satellite and transfer command to my station,” Law ordered and swung the command seat console across his lap. He entered a code sequence and in seconds the pugnacious features of Njy himself appeared on the small screen. From the glimpse of uniformed Split in the background Law judged the Butcher was aboard a warship. From his knowledge of the being it would be a carrier or something else with massive firepower. The thought gave him pause. He needed Njy as an ally; to both intimidate his enemies into joining him, and to keep this sector secure while he took the Black Heart out into deep space. But he did not need him starting a war with a strike through the back door to Menelaus Paradise. He let the problem slip to the back of his mind to be worked on.

“So?”

Aggressive, eager.

With formalities brusquely dispensed with Law was equally blunt. “I am victorious, the enemies throat beneath my bloody heel.” It felt like two wild animals bearing their teeth over a kill. “You are personally supervising?”

“I command!” the Split snarled. “And ‘The Priest-Kings Rage’ stands by for the jump lock.”

“I negotiate surrender. You will be summoned when the scales are in the balance.”

“I am a sword not a cosh held behind a coward’s back! We have an agreement and you have had my aid. Do not think to betray me now. You can have me at your back with either a dagger or a shield.”

Law realised just how much he needed to subsume his enemies’ strength to his own.

“Hold for my signal,” Law said, cutting the signal to leave the ambiguity hanging in the static.

“Make a freighter and two fighter escorts ready. All ships equipped with teleporters and load two full squads. Deploy one in hidden positions along the upper walkway. Make sure the Paranid understands he awaits my summons.”

He thought for a moment, eyes narrowing. “And have our fastest rescue ship ready for instant launch. Tie the communications to my command channel.”

“Understood Admiral,” Patterson acknowledged.

Law stood and gestured to his seat.

“You have command. Do NOT disappoint me.”

Patterson swallowed and nodded.

Law swept down to the hanger deck, gathering guards and dispensing orders as he went. The Bridge filled with his blindly loyal eyes.


From behind the safety of a portable screen generator and six armed troops surrounding him, Law scanned the hanger. It was little more than a low square cavern gouged from the black rock of the asteroid, with a metal deck. A maintenance walkway clung to three sides, some ten metres above the landing pad. Hastily positioned crates concealed ten snipers. He hoped they would prove unnecessary but he could not shake a superstitious believe that if anyone could strike from beyond the grave with the power of blind, stupid loyalty it would be Force. He would believe in his victory fully when the prisoners hung screaming. He let a frisson of lust warm his stomach. He hoped one was the Force woman. They had unfinished business and he could all but feel her fear now in the tingling thrill of anticipation. There were many women in the Force organisation and his preferences were well known. Women they would be and, he searched for her name, Tyre would be one of them.

His own Lifter sat in the centre of the landing deck and the two Falcon escorts were parked in tandem beside it leaving the port slot free for the Paranid’s ship. As he pushed the picture of Tyre’s red-eyed face from his mind the red rectangle of the docking bay door split to the whoop of sirens. A Lifter, in blood red and black livery flickered through the atmospheric containment screen and drifted to rest on light bursts from its manoeuvring jets. It was he realised, Force’s personal ship, the one that had given him so much trouble back in the boron blockade. Its name was emblazoned on the nose, The Destiny Star.

Law stepped from behind the defence screen and walked towards the landed craft flanked by his six guards, uniformed all in black and faceless behind reflective face shields. At his word two of them moved to deploy the embarkation steps against the primary hatch. Law waited at a discreet distance and his four guards unholstered their sidearms as the exit opened and the Paranid appeared alone. His sidearm remained contemptuously sheathed as he walked down the ramp. He stood for a moment, his own triple-eyed gaze scanning the hanger. Law swore the worst of deaths on any careless assassins but satisfied the Paranid turned and with a grunt ordered the rest of his group forward.

He at least was keeping his word. Just two guards, both Argon males, both with holstered blasters and both pushing prisoners. They both wore some kind of black fabric hood and their hands were cuffed before them with standard brig restraints. A second set of the manacles hobbled their feet, the short length of connecting chain leaving the prisoners barely able to shuffle. A length of cable joined the chains linking their wrists to the chains on their ankles, forcing them to walk almost doubled over. Law approved of the caution and the style. Both prisoners wore the black and red of the Raiders squadron. Both tunics were pendulous with curves that flared a lust that dried his mouth. Let Force’s woman be one of them! The guards hustled them to stand beside the gangplank with the Paranid.

“Search that ship as briefed,” Law ordered the two soldiers waiting warily near the embarkation ramp, poised with hand-scanners for that command. “And if there’s a cargo life-support unit,” he stared at the Paranid, “Disable it.”

The two parties regarded each other with mute suspicion while Law’s men scoured the Destiny Star.

They appeared at the top of the ramp a couple of minutes later.

“The ship is clear Sire. No surprises, teleport and sub-space cargo hold life-support disabled as you commanded.”

He was not familiar enough with the Paranid as a species to gauge body language but he thought something registered. The prisoners too, their shoulders seemed to slump but with the stress of the situation it was hard to tell. A rescue plan foiled possibly? Well, if there were troops trapped in the hold they would soon be dead or insane.

“My word is given,” the Paranid rumbled. “You may take the prisoners as a token.” As he spoke his guards each grabbed a prisoner and roughly shoved them in the direction of Law. “Walk!” he commanded. “Come,” Law echoed as the hunched, bound and blind figures shuffled towards them. The smaller of the two whimpered huskily, sending fire into Law’s blood.


“It’s a wild gamble,” Sarge stated “You’ll need a back-up. Stick me and a few of my boys in the hold and set the teleport on a timer to pluck us out.” Max thought about it quietly as Tyre and Kaitrin joined with Jackson in hotly arguing the proposal’s merits. “Too risky, Law’s the very suspicious type, particularly around Max,” Jackson said.

“He thinks you’re both dead!” Tyre snapped. “He’s overconfident. I know the bastard, you don’t!” Kaitrin draped a comforting arm over her shoulder and led her into a corner of the briefing room.

“I’ll take that chance,” Payter said. “Getting close enough to grab him alive before the troops he’ll have hidden about the place can react is our best shot but a diversion would help.”

Tyre and Kaitrin broke from a heated, whispered discussion. “Jack’s right, it’s too dangerous. There’s been enough senseless deaths. Take us along with you though, we want to be there when you take that bastard down Max. For Corrin, right Kaitrin?”

“No backup,” Max said. “And you two are most definitely not coming along. The foot is coming down, absolute end of story! Understood?”

Kaitrin and Tyre exchanged a glance and seemed to come to agreement in that strange way women do when they’ve decided something particularly inexplicable by any form of logic.

“Okay Max, we’d just like to see the look on his face when you leap from your coffin!” Tyre said. “Particularly wearing false boobs. You’ve both got to look convincing enough to get really close.” The thought seemed to give both the women some kind of perverse pleasure. “If it’ll keep you here without the need for restraints go ahead.” Max conceded. “Sarge rustle them up a combat engineer.”

Payter raised a deeply sceptical eyebrow and followed the women out.


Looking up through the translucent black gauze of the hood at the ghost like and gloating Law, in a hot sweat at how near he had come to backing that plan, Max shuffled forwards. Sweat stung beneath the tape strapping his blaster to ribs, the adhesive fixing the two sagging membranes of turbine lubricant tugged painfully at his chest hairs and he could feel the sights of the soldiers Law would have hidden along the upper walkway as he moved slowly forward, careful not to accidentally slip the trick locked manacles and cuffs. Jackson shuffled beside him, hunched over like Max, to disguise his height.

After all the fighting, all the sacrifices, all the deaths it had finally come down to this, five more metres, a grab for the gun and then out with the chip and the hostage. Max scarcely dared to breathe as he took another short step. What could go wrong? For a moment he imagined Zee articulating a list. He readied himself to spring the last few steps and then, as it happened. The tape holding his blaster against his ribs, already loosened by sweat, gave way as he reflexively drew a deep, readying breath. Under the weight of the big handgun it peeled away in nightmare slow motion. Max’s own reflexes betrayed him as he snatched for the falling weapon, his hand popping free of the tricked out cuffs. Even as his fingers grabbed for the stock the landing bay filled with the echoing pre-fire hiss of multiple weapons charging. The blaster hit the metal deck with a clatter and just for half a second everything was as quiet as the vacuum of space.

“Down ,down, on the floor! I said on the floor! All of you. move, move!”

Guards were upon him before Max could respond, knocked to the floor by a back-hand blow. He curled into a protective ball as a boot cracked in against his ribs. A second kick slammed into his face and his mouth tasted the hot salt tang of blood.

“Enough!” At Law’s bass command the hanger fell silent, except for Max’s own rasping breath. Rough hands dragged him to his feet, the cable linking his wrist bonds to the ankle chain tugging loose, allowing him to stand straight. Acutely conscious of the barrel rammed into his back and too stunned by his sheer dumb bad luck, Max made no move as Law loomed wraith-like through the hood.

“So, this woman has teeth. We shall see them pulled.” His leather gauntlets were cool on Max’s throat as he grabbed his hood. “Now my feisty assassin..” He removed it with a single flourish. “Surprise!” said Max with bitter resignation and spat a bloody gobbet in his stunned face. Law wiped it away mechanically, his lips fighting to form a response to developments that blanched his face with shock and Max took the chance to snatch a glance around, looking for an out. Kerman and his two guards stood under the barrels of a ring of guns from the upper walk-way and Jackson was prone on the floor beside Max, a guard’s knee in his spine. Four more soldiers stood around them knuckles white on the triggers of blasters held in double-fisted grips.

“Why won’t you die?” Law said finally, in a quiet shrunken voice. “Why won’t you die?” The question tailed off into a whisper like the cracking of ice on a thawing pond. “Why won’t he die, why won’t he die?” he repeated, walking in small circles rubbing the fabric of the hood over his sweating face. Max bit back a caustic rejoinder, fascinated and horrified by the spectacle.

“And you,” he said with the small voice of a child, “You must be..” Law knelt and pulled off Jackson’s hood. “One of the guy’s who’s going to kick your psychopathic ass!” Jack struggled violently to shrug off the guard, who just bore down harder. “Hey, watch the tits!” For a moment Law’s face crumpled like that of a child almost on the verge of surrendering to tears then his whole face shifted mercurially in response to the venom of Jackson’s tone, becoming adult, hard.

“Nice going Jack,” Max muttered. “Just trying to help,” he managed to gasp. “What’s your excuse?”

“Enough,” Law snapped, his voice now brittle with the effort it took to control his raging impulses. He ripped Max’s tunic open and gaped at the gel membranes fixed to his bare chest in disbelief. He half reached out to touch them. “Enough.” He held Max’s face, squeezing hard. “Enough.” He turned his back and his shoulders sagged with a weariness that matched his slumping shoulders. “Kill them all, immediately.” His voice raised to a roar. “Now!”

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Tyre let out her breath in one long, tightly controlled exhale as the footsteps above, more felt than heard through the ceramic deck plating, faded. “They can’t scan us let alone hear us, that’s why it’s the Star that’s used for the low volume, high value illegal trade,” Kaitrin observed. “Then why are you whispering?” Tyre countered. “Is it safe to get out of this place yet? It kind of reminds me of the ride I took in a sub-space hold, and that didn’t end well. Or a coffin.”

“A crud lined coffin,” Kaitrin replied, referring to the tacky remnants of the last cargo lining the walls, and sticking their hair. “It could have been worse. We’ll give it another couple of minutes before..”

She didn’t manage to complete her sentence.

“That’s not got to be good,” Tyre said as the small hidden compartment was plunged into absolute darkness. She took a deep breath and tried to quell the panic rising in her throat and seemingly filling their hiding place with the thunderous beat of her heart. There was only one way in or out of the shielded compartment the Destiny Star had come equipped with when Max won it in a poker game, and that was through the teleport. And the small control panel, a sign that the compartment had been used for smuggling more than commodities, had been the only illumination. In the stygian dark the bulkheads felt like they were beginning to close in. Life support in the compartment was jury-rigged, low powered to avoid detection, and minimal and already the air felt stale with carbon dioxide.

She lay still and tried not to think about what might be happening to Max. Teleporting ahead of him, after their last goodbye's had been Kaitrin’s plan, cooked up while the boys were arguing about back-up even though it was clear from Max’s body language that his mind was already set. Kaitrin squirmed in the blackness, trying to turn onto her back to reach the panel embedded in the ceiling, just inches above their heads.

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” Kaitrin breathed after a minute. “The good news,” Tyre said firmly. “That’s a shame, there isn’t any. The teleport is off-line and there isn’t a physical exit.” “No escape hatch at all?” Tyre said, her voice fracturing. “Something’s gone wrong, we’ve got to get out!” “Stop it!” Kaitrin hissed, “We’re not dead yet and unlike Max we’ve got a back-up plan.”

“We have?”

“Of course.” Kaitrin hesitated. “It’s just not a very good one.” She struggled unseen in the dark and suddenly the compartment was faintly illuminated by the dimmest of an electric blue glow from something Kaitrin had wrestled from her pockets.

“What’s that?”

“A blaster, you’ve got one too. Back-up and stuff, remember?. You should probably hold your breath and cover any bare skin.” Kaitrin tried the best she could in the cramped space to pull her jacket up over her head. “Ready?” She tried to picture the weapon in her mind and recall the brief instructions Corrin had given her. She adjusted the setting by touch. “Firing on a quiet five,” she warned and took a deep breath.

The intense beam roared into the ceramic, instantly heating the air to oven temperature and she could feel broiling her exposed face. Gritting her teeth against the tiny melted globules falling like a fine acid rain on her hands she sliced a hole barely as wide as her shoulders and pushed hard. The effort burned her hands enough to make her moan softly through gritted teeth but the ceramic gave way, petalling outwards on a melted hinge. Cold clean air flooded in as she struggled with rising panic to force her arms through the gap.

“Your hands!” Tyre said as grimacing fiercely Kaitrin pulled her coughing and choking up through the hole into the small Destiny Star rec-room. “There should be a First Aid Kit in the flying place.” “The flight deck, that’s where we’re heading. I’ll be okay, come on.”

They hustled rapidly through the narrow twilight corridors to the flight deck, ducking below the level of the canopy as they entered. Tyre popped the med-kit from below the left hand seat, opened it and pushed it back to Kaitrin. “Here, I don’t know what I’m looking for,” she hissed. While her friend rummaged for the burn spray Tyre folded herself into a pilot seat and then cautiously, like a cat checking the other side of a wall for threats, she cracked her eyes just above the canopy rim.

“What can you see?” The spray hissed in Kaitrin’s hands, numbing the pain in her hands with its cold, antiseptic breath.

“Law.” Just the sight of his scarred face and barrel body triggered fight-or-flight memories and her breath quickened. “And a few guards. Four, no – make that six. And Max is almost there. Go Max! It’d be nice if just this once nothing went…” She froze as something fell at Max’s feet and a ring of troops snapped into sight around the upper walkway. If every eye had not been on the tableau before her she would have been easily spotted from their vantage point.

“Wrong? Don’t tell me..”

“They’ve been caught. Quick – what do we do, Law’s just unmasked Max!”

‘We’ll be their back-up.’ It had sounded a grand idea when Kaitrin mooted it. Grab a couple of blasters, teleport in ahead of them, stowaway and then..? She realised she had no idea what to do next. Dammit Max, I’m a hostess not a mercenary! Kaitrin clambered into the co-pilot seat, scanning the control station with wild, frantic eyes. “Whatever you’re looking for, find it now!” Tyre shouted as Law turned his back on Max and walked away.


“Hey, now hold up!” Jackson shouted. “You can’t just shoot us down!” Law turned to regard him with an unblinking stare. “And why not exactly?” Max braced himself for a final, defiant fight but the soldier behind swept his feet from beneath him, sending Max crashing to the deck.

“Because it lacks style, it lacks finesse! Don’t you read comics, watch any movies?”

“The ones where the villain leaves his enemies to die in some improbable and overly elaborate manner? Unfortunately this place was built rather quickly and the man-eating fish pond got left on the drawing board. But, if it will make your last moments any more comforting I’ll do it myself.”

He drew his pistol.

“Goodbye Mr Force, this time for good!”

As he took aim at Max’s head a silence as deep as an ocean trench fell on the hanger. It was fractured by a metal hiss from the direction of the Destiny Star and in the time it took Law to recognise the object protruding from the upper hull for what it was, the silence was totally shattered. The gatling gun roared an untidy metal tattoo along the walkway, slashing through the metal deck, equipment crates and screaming flesh with callous indifference.

Max reacted with fighter ace reflexes, rolling and bringing one foot hard up into his guard’s groin. As he crumbled forward Max sat up, grabbed the front of his tunic and dropped back in one smooth motion, propelling him with both legs into Law. Both fell to the deck in a tangle of limbs as the discipline of Law’s soldiers disintegrated into frantic attempts to find cover from the hot metal storm. He drew his own blaster as Law struggled to his feet but a huge explosion from the upper walkway knocked him down, stinging his face with tiny shards of hot metal that left it cut and bleeding.

“What the ****?” Jackson yelled through the chaos as a chain of secondary explosions roared along the walkway as it slowly peeled from the rock wall of the chamber. Men fell screaming and a blazing comet of a barrel bounced inches over Max’s head, dripping tiny incendiary droplets on his shoulders and head and guttering a thick, black and choking toxic tail as it went.

“Kerman, get back onboard! Jack, with me!” Max yelled above the roar of the point defence gatling and the screaming chaos, trying to make out Law through the haze. “There!” Jackson yelled, squeezing off a shot towards the far end of the bay. Max caught a glimpse of a shadowed bulk ducking through a door before diving under a smattering of ill-directed return fire. The gatling whirred and spluttered, empty.

“Cover me!” Max shouted into the sudden silence and dashed after Law at a crouch. Hot plasma bolts sizzled past his head and behind him Jackson squeezed out short staccato bursts of fire at anyone who showed their heads. Max made it to the door and leapt through headlong, barely registering the near miss that seared his tunic and scorched his ribs. Gritting his teeth against the pain Max followed the sound of boots pounding the metal deck.

[Moss]

Now this doesn't look good, nope not at all, infact its either an excellent ploy or there is a real mutiny going on aboard the Enterprise, it does look real at the moment and I have no idea at this stage, it is certainly an unexpected turn of events.

The paranid states he has two prisoners that will interest Law apart from the obvious Max and Jackson I can only think of one that could interest him much, and that would be Tyre.

So is this trick or treat time (for Law)?

Good stuff Steve, i'll be looking forward to reading more, I hope it won't too long before finding out whats happening or should I say realy happening here!

[KiwiNZ]

Excellent start of the finale, Steve!! Looks very much like Max is waiting for Law to play all his trumps and then shatter them at will. I guess the longer he keeps his and Jackson's survival in secret the bigger the impact will be.
The trick with the riot reminds of the limping Enterprise in the Split sectors way back. The old ones are still the best It may be the only way of 'extracting' Law while retaining a good chance of getting hands on the coordinates.

Looking forward to seeing the further development!

[Gandalf The White]

Keep it coming.

We are reaching the end of an era, but I'm looking forward to the end at the same time.

[Oldman]

I'ts a real dam'n shame that this chapter hasn't got a video to go with it...
In my 'mind' Law's taken on a character similar to a human firecracker! Lol.

Outcome of the story?...yea god's, hell, I'm not sure, but I can be sure of the entertainment in the meantime

...Moss could be right, one of 'em could be Tyre..... a nice sort of cliffhanger for Faze again, anyway.

Oldman

[Gandalf The White]

Or is it going to be one of these stories where the bad guys win

[SteveMill]

Next section added below the ***************8

[Gandalf The White]

I'm not quite sure what to make of this one. Either Max is one of the prisoners, or he's not. I really don't quite know what to make of this one. I'm not even going to hazard a guess as to what this is all about.

[KiwiNZ]

Excellent read, Steve. A lot of questions remain unanswered ... most in fact But for a start I assume the two guards are Jackson and Max. I'd consider even Tyre could be part of the game in her rage. The cargo bay may have contained troups but I doubt they'd be careless enough to underestimate Law and not take wear Space Suits.
Well, we are getting closer to showdown!

Looking forward to the next installment.

[Gandalf The White]

We shall see. I weight with bated breath for definite.

[Moss]

Well with part two posted, I still can't tell if a real mutiny took place or not, i'm hoping its some plan that Max cooked up, but just can't tell as yet. On the other hand, if it is, its nice that all the Raiders ships are heading this way. Njy could still be a problem though, even if Law is dealt with.

[Gandalf The White]

Well, if it is some of the crew gone bad, then it's not looking good at all

[SteveMill]

Excellent read, Steve. A lot of questions remain unanswered ... most in fact But for a start I assume the two guards are Jackson and Max. I'd consider even Tyre could be part of the game in her rage. The cargo bay may have contained troups but I doubt they'd be careless enough to underestimate Law and not take wear Space Suits.
Well, we are getting closer to showdown!

Looking forward to the next installment.

It's established that even with a spacesuit people die in the hold without the life-support installed so if anyone was in the hold they're not functioning.

Show-down looming.

[Mercenary]

Hooded prisoners.. one female (possibly) but would Max really risk letting Law get near Tyre even if everything else is a cunning ruse? hmmm, food for thought.

Good stuff and looking forward to the final confrontation.

[SteveMill]

Part 2.5 added below the -------

[Al]

Damn I've been busy. Didn't even realise you'd started this one. I've only had time for a quick read but its not looking good for ol' Max.

Another read tomorrow if I ever get away from work tonight....

Al

[KiwiNZ]

Eekk! You have got no decency, do you? Giving things such a twist is just scary! This time Max stuffed it up, in the all-deciding moment! Too bad. Well, I guess now it is up to Law's men. To see if their loyalty changes at the sight of the two 'supposedly dead'. While the tide turned in favour of Law for now, it still leaves me blank as to how you are going to finish it off.

Looking forward to the next bit ... tomorrow

"Max could scarcely dared to breath"
"Hey, watch the tits1"

[SteveMill]

Eekk! You have got no decency, do you? Giving things such a twist is just scary! This time Max stuffed it up, in the all-deciding moment! Too bad. Well, I guess now it is up to Law's men. To see if their loyalty changes at the sight of the two 'supposedly dead'. While the tide turned in favour of Law for now, it still leaves me blank as to how you are going to finish it off.

Looking forward to the next bit ... tomorrow

"Max could scarcely dared to breath"
"Hey, watch the tits1"

Thanks for the spots, all versions changed. It was too good a cliff-hanger to pass up. I'll try to resolve it as soon as i've finished watching a re-run of the Blakes 7 finale.

[Mercenary]

Good stuff.

I wonder if they had made any plans to sabotage the Black Heart during the deception stage (just in case). Now that would leave Law with a horrible dilemma and no flagship.

[Gandalf The White]

well if I weight for much longer I'm going to suffercate lol. I'm still holding my breath lol