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"Hurh? Hey! What are you doing here? Who gave you permiss… oh. It's you".
And so the silent figure turned about to face Mogul. It smiled and only pointed at the scruffiness atop Mogul's head.
"Yeah well, you'd be disorganized too. I have limited supplies. I can't dock in any port but those Corvus ones. And they dont like me too much you know. They kept radio-ing me they weren't pleased with the destruction of so and so. Well guess what? They meant it."
It stood there, unimpressed, silently still waving at Mogul. Not so much with it's hand (because it seemed to have hands at times), but with it's entire body (because it seemed to have a body too, at times). Like memories on a pond surface. But Mogul didn't mind it. It was soothing in some way.
Lecter too wasn't impressed. He looked at Mogul, totally ignoring the presence of Akan. As if he didn't see him. Both were vaporously wavering in counter synchronous pulses. Pulse wich jumped as Mogul saw his second uninvited "guest".
"I remember you being more de-li-cious old pal.
—Get out of here you…"
And so did the pulse of Lecter. It simply vanished as gracefully as Mogul imagined it appearing in the first place.
"Would you believe that?
—No he wouldn't Mogul and you know it, said Eo, still as condescending as Mogul made him out to be. Akan is way to preoccupied with himself to imagine being inopportune to any one else.
—Shut up you! Mogul shouted as he swirled around on his chair to blow away this last one off his radar screens.
"No! No! NO! You are NOT HERE" he screamed.
But no one listened to him. Because Mogul was alone again. Lonely in the confines of his small ship. Soon, he would have to dock for supplies again.
Trembling, he opened up a bottle of anti-depressants. Last dose. Reached for a bottle of water. None left. Only one thing to drink left. He had kept that one for a special occasion.
Oh! special indeed. But alas, it'll never come. "Here's to you ol' drunk." he said, opening this rare bottle of tequila.
Mogul wasn't alone anymore. He had slipped into the memories of the past, dreaming of a young kid running about the Jallik station. The kid, savoring every moment with his father, looked up an IDF Valkyrie. On it, freshly-painted, was his father's name, insignia and rank: "Pilot Mogul Velaio, IDF, Cromwell Squadron".
In the loneliness of space, the TPG Raptor spun into a swirl, guided only by the misplaced elbow of one lonely sick soul.
And so the silent figure turned about to face Mogul. It smiled and only pointed at the scruffiness atop Mogul's head.
"Yeah well, you'd be disorganized too. I have limited supplies. I can't dock in any port but those Corvus ones. And they dont like me too much you know. They kept radio-ing me they weren't pleased with the destruction of so and so. Well guess what? They meant it."
It stood there, unimpressed, silently still waving at Mogul. Not so much with it's hand (because it seemed to have hands at times), but with it's entire body (because it seemed to have a body too, at times). Like memories on a pond surface. But Mogul didn't mind it. It was soothing in some way.
Lecter too wasn't impressed. He looked at Mogul, totally ignoring the presence of Akan. As if he didn't see him. Both were vaporously wavering in counter synchronous pulses. Pulse wich jumped as Mogul saw his second uninvited "guest".
"I remember you being more de-li-cious old pal.
—Get out of here you…"
And so did the pulse of Lecter. It simply vanished as gracefully as Mogul imagined it appearing in the first place.
"Would you believe that?
—No he wouldn't Mogul and you know it, said Eo, still as condescending as Mogul made him out to be. Akan is way to preoccupied with himself to imagine being inopportune to any one else.
—Shut up you! Mogul shouted as he swirled around on his chair to blow away this last one off his radar screens.
"No! No! NO! You are NOT HERE" he screamed.
But no one listened to him. Because Mogul was alone again. Lonely in the confines of his small ship. Soon, he would have to dock for supplies again.
Trembling, he opened up a bottle of anti-depressants. Last dose. Reached for a bottle of water. None left. Only one thing to drink left. He had kept that one for a special occasion.
Oh! special indeed. But alas, it'll never come. "Here's to you ol' drunk." he said, opening this rare bottle of tequila.
Mogul wasn't alone anymore. He had slipped into the memories of the past, dreaming of a young kid running about the Jallik station. The kid, savoring every moment with his father, looked up an IDF Valkyrie. On it, freshly-painted, was his father's name, insignia and rank: "Pilot Mogul Velaio, IDF, Cromwell Squadron".
In the loneliness of space, the TPG Raptor spun into a swirl, guided only by the misplaced elbow of one lonely sick soul.
Dr. Lecter leaned back in his massive old Itani hide chair, savored his first real scotch since his escape in the heat before the fire, and smiled as he contemplated the state of the universe at that very instant.
After being dragged through the wrenching process of testimony and cross-exam, Miharu, Joyce Sanders and and MonkofAkan were assuredly still nursing freshly reopened wounds, however stoically.
[SCAR], more or less mongrel abortion of his earlier requirements for a support network amongst the Serco military, had publicly cut him loose in a matter that could not fail to place him in the wronged position. And with that in mind, he looked forward to a time when that group of Serco would finally commit to their divisive course, lead by the increasingly degenerate Mecha Touruais. Their slaughter could be accomplished now, not only sans dishonor, but with the glory of the Dominion and any number of talented warriors supporting him.
[ITAN] had been left leaderless. And while the strategic implications were delightful, resulting in ten-fold increases in Itani combat casualties/buffet courses in the past week alone, Lecter found his true solace in the suffering of his former nemesis, LeberMac. Left alone and abandoned by his former C.O., Leber would assuredly fall into a bottomless abyss of tequila and misery. The thought alone warmed his alloy bones more deeply than the fire's flames.
And of course, he thought, as he let another dram of the whiskey slide down his throat... Mogul. Perhaps the last of the wretched Velaio family on this side of the Void, Lecter could almost feel his anguish now. He knew, could almost taste, that Mogul had survived the convoy SNAFU... but he probably wished he rather died.
And with that image dancing merrily in his mind's eye, Mogul, wracked with madness and suffering, drifting aimlessly through space or run to ground in some shithole station locker... Dr. Lecter drifted off into well-earned sleep.
After being dragged through the wrenching process of testimony and cross-exam, Miharu, Joyce Sanders and and MonkofAkan were assuredly still nursing freshly reopened wounds, however stoically.
[SCAR], more or less mongrel abortion of his earlier requirements for a support network amongst the Serco military, had publicly cut him loose in a matter that could not fail to place him in the wronged position. And with that in mind, he looked forward to a time when that group of Serco would finally commit to their divisive course, lead by the increasingly degenerate Mecha Touruais. Their slaughter could be accomplished now, not only sans dishonor, but with the glory of the Dominion and any number of talented warriors supporting him.
[ITAN] had been left leaderless. And while the strategic implications were delightful, resulting in ten-fold increases in Itani combat casualties/buffet courses in the past week alone, Lecter found his true solace in the suffering of his former nemesis, LeberMac. Left alone and abandoned by his former C.O., Leber would assuredly fall into a bottomless abyss of tequila and misery. The thought alone warmed his alloy bones more deeply than the fire's flames.
And of course, he thought, as he let another dram of the whiskey slide down his throat... Mogul. Perhaps the last of the wretched Velaio family on this side of the Void, Lecter could almost feel his anguish now. He knew, could almost taste, that Mogul had survived the convoy SNAFU... but he probably wished he rather died.
And with that image dancing merrily in his mind's eye, Mogul, wracked with madness and suffering, drifting aimlessly through space or run to ground in some shithole station locker... Dr. Lecter drifted off into well-earned sleep.
Prof. Dr. mifune toshiro sat in his study, musing on the recent escape by his colleague, Dr. Lecter. If he could pull him into the ranks of the university, the experience of the man could be used to the good of MedRAR, but there was the issue of how the experience had been gathered... or rather,under which circumstances. It raised an ethical question to employ such a man, but given his wealth of knowledge, one could argue that not employing such a man if you had the chance could be equally wrong.
Unnerved by the situation, toshiro ran over the recent media and intelligence agency reports again. Maybe, just maybe, they could pull it off without being noticed.
Who dares, wins. toshiro settled in his chair to prevent unwanted movement and retreated to his cybernetical communications suite, pinging the much sought-after Dr. Lecter to establish a direct communication link.
"Drrrinnnggg..."
OOC: Your turn, Lecter... :OOC
Unnerved by the situation, toshiro ran over the recent media and intelligence agency reports again. Maybe, just maybe, they could pull it off without being noticed.
Who dares, wins. toshiro settled in his chair to prevent unwanted movement and retreated to his cybernetical communications suite, pinging the much sought-after Dr. Lecter to establish a direct communication link.
"Drrrinnnggg..."
OOC: Your turn, Lecter... :OOC
Dr. Lecter was suddenly disturbed by some fool, who was uncertain of his title, and who wanted Lecter to do something involving ethical research. After losing his lunch at the though of being somehow benevolent, the Doctor sent an earshattering Ping O' Death over the comm line and went back to sleep, dreaming of a wake of Serco, UIT, and Itani corpses strewn as far as the eye could see.
Prof. Dr. mifune toshiro (OOC: both apply, I only use them for formal occasions) ignored Lecter's obvious desire for anonymity and continued to ping him. At some point, Lecter would replay, he had to. This time, he sent more information along with the ping package, mentioning a reward.
Borb kept pressure on the cupeling as he clamped it shut around his newly acquired Queen AGT telling him self that once again he needed to find some one to kill those queens for him.
Life had become interesting once again for Borb, after his infiltration and later ex-filtration of Itan after the mission changed more then he liked he had fallen in to much wealth thanks to the "benevolent" Serco nation.
Lecter was once again free and Borb was pushing to have his "recored" of any wrong doing be comply pardoned and as such unable to be brought up in a court of any kind.
Mogul was insane and in hiding, though Borb him still holds on to a believe that insanity could just be a mask for some thing else. Regardless this has left Itan leaderless and has left another chink in their already failing armor.
Perhaps the most humorous part of all this, at least to Borb was the death threats from Serco "nationals".
At first the thought it was a joke when intel started suggesting that Mecha had sworn to kill Borb, but as more and more intel kept coming in Borb couldn't help but feel the joke was Mecha.
All this aside Borb could not be more happy, once again he was in the limelight at the center of controversy and hate. He was back and back like he liked.
"War baby."
He muttered grinning as he took a seat in his SCP and test fired the AGT demolishing the small building he had built on the back of his estate in a matter of second.
Life had become interesting once again for Borb, after his infiltration and later ex-filtration of Itan after the mission changed more then he liked he had fallen in to much wealth thanks to the "benevolent" Serco nation.
Lecter was once again free and Borb was pushing to have his "recored" of any wrong doing be comply pardoned and as such unable to be brought up in a court of any kind.
Mogul was insane and in hiding, though Borb him still holds on to a believe that insanity could just be a mask for some thing else. Regardless this has left Itan leaderless and has left another chink in their already failing armor.
Perhaps the most humorous part of all this, at least to Borb was the death threats from Serco "nationals".
At first the thought it was a joke when intel started suggesting that Mecha had sworn to kill Borb, but as more and more intel kept coming in Borb couldn't help but feel the joke was Mecha.
All this aside Borb could not be more happy, once again he was in the limelight at the center of controversy and hate. He was back and back like he liked.
"War baby."
He muttered grinning as he took a seat in his SCP and test fired the AGT demolishing the small building he had built on the back of his estate in a matter of second.
For two weeks now had Mogul been in space. Non stop. Without visiting a single station.
Barred from any Itani station for another two weeks, hated by Xang-Xi for it was publicly shown to have shoddy security, by Corvus for having been repeatedly attacked in the past and by the Serco nation because… well… it's now war. Openly declared. With him only to blame. Not that he regretted it. He knew that for the long-term Itani victory, things had to be pressed on.
Not talking to anyone, or barely, was taking it's toll on Mogul wich only sunk him deeper into confusion. Who were those voices he kept hearing? Where there really people with him in this tiny Raptor?
Mogul wasn't too sure if his mind was playing tricks on him. But at times, he felt like he was on to something. Like a maritime sailor looking out for the reefs through the fog. What sometimes was just a wave turned out to be cold hard fact at other times.
Mogul knew he wasn't quite right. Something was wrong. He knew he needed help but couldn't find a port where he would find any.
During an hallucinatory period he now was sure was due to a badly-kept bottle of antique booze, coupled with anti-depressants, Mogul imagined himself back at the helm of an IDF Valkyrie. Back in the IDF days. he was confused and requesting orders from his old commander, Roguelazer, but none would come in. All he could do is try to survive the onslaught of Serco pilots coming into Deneb. What was so interesting in Deneb for them to come pile their carcasses there?
But after the hallucinatory period, Mogul had woken up in an Itani hangar. In Deneb! With an IDF Valkyrie. He had actually carried out that mission. Extra credits in his false-passport showed he had actually gone through it. How could no one recognize him? The stink. The beard. The fogy eyes. The Corvus clothes. The pressure of Serco at the door of the Deneb stations. All of wich contributed in making Mogul's nightmare last just longer.
Not wanting to push his luck, he abandoned the Valk and made a run for it in his Raptor. There was no way he could do the whole trip through Itani space. How in hell did he get there in the first place? Only one route felt safe. The Serco space route. In a Raptor, no less.
His luck didn't last long. He first jumped in a barrage of noobie Serco pilots, training in space. On his third jump, he ended up two hundred meters in from of a heavy assault cruiser. Great. but the Raptor held on and wizzed by the fleet narrowing every shot. By the time he was in Sol II, his luck ran out. Alerted by his presence, the serco strike force kept closing in. Uncharted asteroid fields made his voyage ever more perilous with the strike force closing in. This time, he was taking hits. Ready to jump, to salvation he hoped, Mogul hit the warp command with a sense of relief. To be greeted by a Trident convoy. More hits. The Raptor was showing it's weak armour.
Having finally reached open, unclaimed space, Mogul knew he would have a chance to stop at a station for some repairs. This would give him a chance to resupply too. He was terribly dehydrated by now. Hating politics in general, the Xang Xi barracks couldn't care less about Mogul and let him in. For a fee.
Entering the bar in this Latos station, Mogul stumbled on a too-familliar face. He couldn't remember having met him face to face before, but he knew that face. Either through the canopy or from broadcasts. He knew that voice all too well. A long table stood between them.
"Greetings", said Mecha Touriaus.
Mogul's head began to spin. He couldn't take any more of this constant rush of adrenaline. Mogul clearly had been expected. Or sought.
"Take yourself back to that day we betrayed our nations" said Mecha. "in jallik by a twist of fate i fired a flare and killed you and grabbing some sensitive info in your remains. i docked nearby and gave my orders to my small asassin group to carry out the plans as i read the information inside the package i realized we were... outsmarted?"
Mogul held any comment he had for himself. And despite the raised eyebrow, Mecha continued his little story: "and my assassins were too spread out to respond to capture you. The initial target was Lecter but as it came clear, i revealed my plans with scar and the dominion left scar and turned myself in to the dominion. As i was being held in a prison cell for a few hours, someone came out of the darkness let me out of the cell, a serco someone who was sitting alot higher on the dominion ladder than the ones deciding my fate i was taking to a secret and sacred place. As they explained why the entity let me free and prepared... the entirely explained my fate and my mission. This serco, burned a mark on my chest, over the mark that was given to me before i was thrown in the cell the first mark before i was in the holding cell was a mark of betrayal the second fit in this mark like a missing piece of a puzzle this has been marked on very few people. The serco power gave me three objectives. Any clue what they could be?"
Mogul grinned "Let me guess ... Seek out Itani agents; destroy itani agents; infiltrate Itani organizations?"
Mecha ignored Mogul and continued "there are no rooms in my eyes for traitors, this is my country and the country of the serco. The fallen won't escape my wrath and you will be the one delivering it. The first person to bare this mark was that of Akan's asassin. They gave me somewhat of a history lesson." he added.
Mecha looked gravely at Mogul and continued "There are three targets. Borb Sarken. Dr. Lecter. Borb knows i am to kill him and lecter i'm sure has a prety good idea and nothing has changed for me and him."
This time, Mogul was really confused and dared asking "I dont understand why the Dominion would want to seek out Borb and Lecter. Two of the most-feared anti-Itani pilots."
Mecha answered "They have apparently comitted enough traitorous acts to get the great lady's attention. i was sought out to do this because of my previous acts in the past. The third target doesn't see it comming, but i still need your help."
"Eh. Find me a reason for me to help out the one responsible for the destruction of my long-term plans. In fact, I'm probably the last person who'll be able to help you out right now. I'm enjoying an itani space ban. I'm an outcast. I'm poor. Unequipped. Barely able to survive. In fact, I'm beginning to think I've lost it." Mogul said.
Mecha stood up and said "Oh i see...", pulling a blaster out on Mogul, he added "you are the third target, fool."
Too busy laughing at his victory, Mogul made a run for it, tossing tables, beverages, clients and security guard like if there were no tomorrow.
Jumping into his Raptor, Mogul had broken every courtesy, every safety and every security law existed in the station to make his escape. But Mecha Touriaus was on his tail. He could hear the heavy steps of the Serco pounding behind him.
Damn asteroids. There are always asteroids when you need to make a fast jump, thought Mogul. The ships danced about the floating rocks and finally, the Raptor showed what it was capable of doing. Damn TPG for not making it obvious in the first place. Mogul was seated in what was perhaps the best coward's weapon. And jumped away. Four times, just to be sure, like for the strike forces.
Why would the so-called Great Lady Serco be personally after Mogul? Why were the Serco taking so much importance in the capture of Mogul? Why was he third on the very select list of personal targets of the Serco Dominion? And above all, why was he sharing the podium with Lecter and Sarken?
The questions danced in Mogul's mind. He couldn't take it anymore. Mogul collapsed, banging his head on the controls.
The TPG Raptor started to move, exactly as it was being accustomed to. Out of control, spinning about. The Raptor danced once again in space.
Alone.
Barred from any Itani station for another two weeks, hated by Xang-Xi for it was publicly shown to have shoddy security, by Corvus for having been repeatedly attacked in the past and by the Serco nation because… well… it's now war. Openly declared. With him only to blame. Not that he regretted it. He knew that for the long-term Itani victory, things had to be pressed on.
Not talking to anyone, or barely, was taking it's toll on Mogul wich only sunk him deeper into confusion. Who were those voices he kept hearing? Where there really people with him in this tiny Raptor?
Mogul wasn't too sure if his mind was playing tricks on him. But at times, he felt like he was on to something. Like a maritime sailor looking out for the reefs through the fog. What sometimes was just a wave turned out to be cold hard fact at other times.
Mogul knew he wasn't quite right. Something was wrong. He knew he needed help but couldn't find a port where he would find any.
During an hallucinatory period he now was sure was due to a badly-kept bottle of antique booze, coupled with anti-depressants, Mogul imagined himself back at the helm of an IDF Valkyrie. Back in the IDF days. he was confused and requesting orders from his old commander, Roguelazer, but none would come in. All he could do is try to survive the onslaught of Serco pilots coming into Deneb. What was so interesting in Deneb for them to come pile their carcasses there?
But after the hallucinatory period, Mogul had woken up in an Itani hangar. In Deneb! With an IDF Valkyrie. He had actually carried out that mission. Extra credits in his false-passport showed he had actually gone through it. How could no one recognize him? The stink. The beard. The fogy eyes. The Corvus clothes. The pressure of Serco at the door of the Deneb stations. All of wich contributed in making Mogul's nightmare last just longer.
Not wanting to push his luck, he abandoned the Valk and made a run for it in his Raptor. There was no way he could do the whole trip through Itani space. How in hell did he get there in the first place? Only one route felt safe. The Serco space route. In a Raptor, no less.
His luck didn't last long. He first jumped in a barrage of noobie Serco pilots, training in space. On his third jump, he ended up two hundred meters in from of a heavy assault cruiser. Great. but the Raptor held on and wizzed by the fleet narrowing every shot. By the time he was in Sol II, his luck ran out. Alerted by his presence, the serco strike force kept closing in. Uncharted asteroid fields made his voyage ever more perilous with the strike force closing in. This time, he was taking hits. Ready to jump, to salvation he hoped, Mogul hit the warp command with a sense of relief. To be greeted by a Trident convoy. More hits. The Raptor was showing it's weak armour.
Having finally reached open, unclaimed space, Mogul knew he would have a chance to stop at a station for some repairs. This would give him a chance to resupply too. He was terribly dehydrated by now. Hating politics in general, the Xang Xi barracks couldn't care less about Mogul and let him in. For a fee.
Entering the bar in this Latos station, Mogul stumbled on a too-familliar face. He couldn't remember having met him face to face before, but he knew that face. Either through the canopy or from broadcasts. He knew that voice all too well. A long table stood between them.
"Greetings", said Mecha Touriaus.
Mogul's head began to spin. He couldn't take any more of this constant rush of adrenaline. Mogul clearly had been expected. Or sought.
"Take yourself back to that day we betrayed our nations" said Mecha. "in jallik by a twist of fate i fired a flare and killed you and grabbing some sensitive info in your remains. i docked nearby and gave my orders to my small asassin group to carry out the plans as i read the information inside the package i realized we were... outsmarted?"
Mogul held any comment he had for himself. And despite the raised eyebrow, Mecha continued his little story: "and my assassins were too spread out to respond to capture you. The initial target was Lecter but as it came clear, i revealed my plans with scar and the dominion left scar and turned myself in to the dominion. As i was being held in a prison cell for a few hours, someone came out of the darkness let me out of the cell, a serco someone who was sitting alot higher on the dominion ladder than the ones deciding my fate i was taking to a secret and sacred place. As they explained why the entity let me free and prepared... the entirely explained my fate and my mission. This serco, burned a mark on my chest, over the mark that was given to me before i was thrown in the cell the first mark before i was in the holding cell was a mark of betrayal the second fit in this mark like a missing piece of a puzzle this has been marked on very few people. The serco power gave me three objectives. Any clue what they could be?"
Mogul grinned "Let me guess ... Seek out Itani agents; destroy itani agents; infiltrate Itani organizations?"
Mecha ignored Mogul and continued "there are no rooms in my eyes for traitors, this is my country and the country of the serco. The fallen won't escape my wrath and you will be the one delivering it. The first person to bare this mark was that of Akan's asassin. They gave me somewhat of a history lesson." he added.
Mecha looked gravely at Mogul and continued "There are three targets. Borb Sarken. Dr. Lecter. Borb knows i am to kill him and lecter i'm sure has a prety good idea and nothing has changed for me and him."
This time, Mogul was really confused and dared asking "I dont understand why the Dominion would want to seek out Borb and Lecter. Two of the most-feared anti-Itani pilots."
Mecha answered "They have apparently comitted enough traitorous acts to get the great lady's attention. i was sought out to do this because of my previous acts in the past. The third target doesn't see it comming, but i still need your help."
"Eh. Find me a reason for me to help out the one responsible for the destruction of my long-term plans. In fact, I'm probably the last person who'll be able to help you out right now. I'm enjoying an itani space ban. I'm an outcast. I'm poor. Unequipped. Barely able to survive. In fact, I'm beginning to think I've lost it." Mogul said.
Mecha stood up and said "Oh i see...", pulling a blaster out on Mogul, he added "you are the third target, fool."
Too busy laughing at his victory, Mogul made a run for it, tossing tables, beverages, clients and security guard like if there were no tomorrow.
Jumping into his Raptor, Mogul had broken every courtesy, every safety and every security law existed in the station to make his escape. But Mecha Touriaus was on his tail. He could hear the heavy steps of the Serco pounding behind him.
Damn asteroids. There are always asteroids when you need to make a fast jump, thought Mogul. The ships danced about the floating rocks and finally, the Raptor showed what it was capable of doing. Damn TPG for not making it obvious in the first place. Mogul was seated in what was perhaps the best coward's weapon. And jumped away. Four times, just to be sure, like for the strike forces.
Why would the so-called Great Lady Serco be personally after Mogul? Why were the Serco taking so much importance in the capture of Mogul? Why was he third on the very select list of personal targets of the Serco Dominion? And above all, why was he sharing the podium with Lecter and Sarken?
The questions danced in Mogul's mind. He couldn't take it anymore. Mogul collapsed, banging his head on the controls.
The TPG Raptor started to move, exactly as it was being accustomed to. Out of control, spinning about. The Raptor danced once again in space.
Alone.
Oh yes Borb knew all to well about Mecha.
Becoming a member of BLAK in it's self was no small feat, the skills ingrained in Borb from his days BLAK still remain just as sharp, if not sharper. In Corvus you never get to the top with out skills, and it's not just weapons, intelligence, or any thing else like that. The one skill that keeps people alive down grey are people skills.
People as Borb found once he left his family are easy to befriend if you tell them what they want to hear, or in some cases become what they want you to be. With his skill he slowly built up a network of people he could trust, and people he could use. His network of bros n hoes. A network that had saved his life more then once, a network that was still in place.
Borb now was the commander of Serco Team Six, and elite Serco military force he helped form while in a brain washed state. The Team was a good idea, but once he regained his memory he could not help but feel he was the wrong guy to lead it. At least in it's current role.
After a long drawn out internal battle with him self he felt he at least owed it to those in the team who for some reason stuck with him no matter what to be there for them. He would not let his bros down.
Now sitting on top of more money then he could ever use in his life, a very fancy title, the best house he could find, and freedom to do just about any thing he wants as granted by the Serco military. He finds his life empty, and hollow.
Then one of his people contacted him about a rumor in which a Mecha Touriaus wanted to take his life. Reports had been coming in for some time concerning SCAR, and their resentment to ST6 and more importantly Borb him self. They thought he was getting to big for his own good. Not that he cared. When one has every thing they could ever have and yet still do not have what they want why should any one person, or for that matter persons have any bearing on the actions of him.
All this aside he was not surprised to hear a SCAR hit man had been sent out. Why not Mecha was the best they had that would not look to bad by leaving the guild to kill a Serco with high standing.
Borb had a friend confirm the rumors, they were in fact true. For hours he pondered his options, Mecha while a good pilot was in Borb's opinion not quite as good as him, sure the fight would be a good one and hard to win, but the odds would be in Borbs favor. Sure he could lose, but as he ran the numbers he felt in a 1 on 1 he would have good odds. Then his mind started running, this is not a duel, or a friendly little war, this is a hit why should he be nice. He knew he had friends, would not be hard to take out Mecha, who even said they needed to use ships a single .308 could end it all.
But no. Why, if he killed one he would have to kill them all and he did not even know who they all where. He decided to talk with Mecha.
It was not hard, your a young hot shot pilot still thinking your kill count makes you a great pilot where are you going to be at? Borb made his way to B8 and waited, in no time his prey warped in sporting a fancy valk.
Borb wait for Mecha to make the first move, and waited, and waited. It would seem how ever that Mecha was not interested in petty duels with Borb. Finally Borb said some thing after the two pilots stared one another down from 666ms.
"Rumor mill says your out to make a hit..."
With that the stage was set, Mecha replied back that it was in fact true, but finding Borb in B8 was to easy. After a few minutes of banter, Borb stopped beating around the bush.
"Ok, so what I do this time?"
Borb waited for some silly charge SCAR had made up or some thing else that any good lawyer could get him out of. But no Mecha had a legit charge. He called Borb a traitor and a spy. After playing around with Mecha pretending he had infiltrated SCAR, and debating right and wrong Borb asked who.
Mecha started a long spiel about how some one he could not talk about from way high up had sent him to purify the Serco race and that he was on a mission from God, or some thing like that. Borb really did not pay attention, he had been there and knew how it went, and what it ment.
Some one had gotten sick of him, no surprise. After a bit people like Borb do indeed get to big for them self's. You can only swap sides, straddle fences, and make your self rich so long before every one starts to want you dead. He had thought he still had a few years at least, but then this is life and it is always changing, this time how ever he had neglected to change with it.
At this point he could run, but that would only last so long. As he well knew there was always some one better, and that some one would be the one getting the big bucks in the end to see him to his end.
No his only salvation would come from finding a reason to be alive.
Removing him self from his thoughts to find Mecha still rambling about how this was lady Serco's will he commented on how he respected Mecha for A) Being up front with him. And B) For having their little face to face in a war zone such as B8. He couldn't help but get a kick out of having to look over his scanners before saying a word just to be sure no one would try and kill him unawares. If he is to become the next big hit man at least he is doing it right Borb thought to him self.
Finally Borb excused him self and left Mecha with a small warning.
"If you a hit man kills me a hit man, how long do you think it will take for the people up top that sent you to send some one else that will take you down?"
Borb thought back to his first kill back in Odia, he never thought he would make it big back then or that some one would have a hit out on him or of all the others he will kill to keep his cred up. It all started with one simple justified hit for him, he could not help but wonder if Mecha would end up like him.
Becoming a member of BLAK in it's self was no small feat, the skills ingrained in Borb from his days BLAK still remain just as sharp, if not sharper. In Corvus you never get to the top with out skills, and it's not just weapons, intelligence, or any thing else like that. The one skill that keeps people alive down grey are people skills.
People as Borb found once he left his family are easy to befriend if you tell them what they want to hear, or in some cases become what they want you to be. With his skill he slowly built up a network of people he could trust, and people he could use. His network of bros n hoes. A network that had saved his life more then once, a network that was still in place.
Borb now was the commander of Serco Team Six, and elite Serco military force he helped form while in a brain washed state. The Team was a good idea, but once he regained his memory he could not help but feel he was the wrong guy to lead it. At least in it's current role.
After a long drawn out internal battle with him self he felt he at least owed it to those in the team who for some reason stuck with him no matter what to be there for them. He would not let his bros down.
Now sitting on top of more money then he could ever use in his life, a very fancy title, the best house he could find, and freedom to do just about any thing he wants as granted by the Serco military. He finds his life empty, and hollow.
Then one of his people contacted him about a rumor in which a Mecha Touriaus wanted to take his life. Reports had been coming in for some time concerning SCAR, and their resentment to ST6 and more importantly Borb him self. They thought he was getting to big for his own good. Not that he cared. When one has every thing they could ever have and yet still do not have what they want why should any one person, or for that matter persons have any bearing on the actions of him.
All this aside he was not surprised to hear a SCAR hit man had been sent out. Why not Mecha was the best they had that would not look to bad by leaving the guild to kill a Serco with high standing.
Borb had a friend confirm the rumors, they were in fact true. For hours he pondered his options, Mecha while a good pilot was in Borb's opinion not quite as good as him, sure the fight would be a good one and hard to win, but the odds would be in Borbs favor. Sure he could lose, but as he ran the numbers he felt in a 1 on 1 he would have good odds. Then his mind started running, this is not a duel, or a friendly little war, this is a hit why should he be nice. He knew he had friends, would not be hard to take out Mecha, who even said they needed to use ships a single .308 could end it all.
But no. Why, if he killed one he would have to kill them all and he did not even know who they all where. He decided to talk with Mecha.
It was not hard, your a young hot shot pilot still thinking your kill count makes you a great pilot where are you going to be at? Borb made his way to B8 and waited, in no time his prey warped in sporting a fancy valk.
Borb wait for Mecha to make the first move, and waited, and waited. It would seem how ever that Mecha was not interested in petty duels with Borb. Finally Borb said some thing after the two pilots stared one another down from 666ms.
"Rumor mill says your out to make a hit..."
With that the stage was set, Mecha replied back that it was in fact true, but finding Borb in B8 was to easy. After a few minutes of banter, Borb stopped beating around the bush.
"Ok, so what I do this time?"
Borb waited for some silly charge SCAR had made up or some thing else that any good lawyer could get him out of. But no Mecha had a legit charge. He called Borb a traitor and a spy. After playing around with Mecha pretending he had infiltrated SCAR, and debating right and wrong Borb asked who.
Mecha started a long spiel about how some one he could not talk about from way high up had sent him to purify the Serco race and that he was on a mission from God, or some thing like that. Borb really did not pay attention, he had been there and knew how it went, and what it ment.
Some one had gotten sick of him, no surprise. After a bit people like Borb do indeed get to big for them self's. You can only swap sides, straddle fences, and make your self rich so long before every one starts to want you dead. He had thought he still had a few years at least, but then this is life and it is always changing, this time how ever he had neglected to change with it.
At this point he could run, but that would only last so long. As he well knew there was always some one better, and that some one would be the one getting the big bucks in the end to see him to his end.
No his only salvation would come from finding a reason to be alive.
Removing him self from his thoughts to find Mecha still rambling about how this was lady Serco's will he commented on how he respected Mecha for A) Being up front with him. And B) For having their little face to face in a war zone such as B8. He couldn't help but get a kick out of having to look over his scanners before saying a word just to be sure no one would try and kill him unawares. If he is to become the next big hit man at least he is doing it right Borb thought to him self.
Finally Borb excused him self and left Mecha with a small warning.
"If you a hit man kills me a hit man, how long do you think it will take for the people up top that sent you to send some one else that will take you down?"
Borb thought back to his first kill back in Odia, he never thought he would make it big back then or that some one would have a hit out on him or of all the others he will kill to keep his cred up. It all started with one simple justified hit for him, he could not help but wonder if Mecha would end up like him.
He'd been lurking in the hollow asteroid for over a week now, part of an uncharted field deep in unmonitored Itani space. Rearming at a backwater mining station with false credentials, Lecter had spent most of his time liquidating every convoy passing through, bound for the Itani stations in Deneb. Only an endless series of Trident escort frigates had docked at their destinations. Small comfort to the hard pressed defenders, in desperate need of the supplies Lecter had spaced or sold.
His advance team in the WH sector told him a new voy was entering his kill zone, and he warped into attack as the advance team cleared out. Almost as soon as he'd entered the sector, a full Itani strike force warped in on top of his Valk... Lecter cursed, "damn, my cover has finally been blown."
He ran for his roid field while signaling the scout team to exfiltrate the system. Two seekers lost it trying to keep up with the valkyrie, and issued on the closely packed silicate roids. The rest of the SF formed up on his tail as he approached the hollow asteroid. "Now, all I have to do is make a 90 degree shift at 220 m/s..."
He locked up the brakes for half a second, and just as the first incoming flares from the seekers reached prox distance, Lecter roll-banked into the opening to his left. The strike force had turboed past before it could react, and he was behind them in an instant, shredding the vultures with positron bolts and throwing a net of flares into the survivors' cockpits.
The entire combat took less than three seconds, and Lecter collected a few new law neuts from the scrap field before gently settling his valkyrie back inside the roid. He opened a bottle of scotch and poured himself a drink. He couldn't really take any more vacation time here in blue space, he had to decide on his course of action. Not that there was really a decision to be made... he'd just been putting it off. He opened a secure comm line to Sol II.
"Dr. Toshiro, I wanted to thank you for your earlier offer. While I am intrigued, there are some things you should know before you consider bringing me in here. First, despite my skills and experience, I am far from being a civilian scientist. What you would consider basic morality is of little interest to me, and if we're to work together, you must be prepared to accept, if not approve of, my methods. Second, and more specifically, I have decided to undertake a mission that will push the limits of what is considered honorable behavior more so than in the past. Be warned that if I will be working with you, I will also be engaged in business of which you can know nothing if you value your life. Do you wish to proceede?"
His advance team in the WH sector told him a new voy was entering his kill zone, and he warped into attack as the advance team cleared out. Almost as soon as he'd entered the sector, a full Itani strike force warped in on top of his Valk... Lecter cursed, "damn, my cover has finally been blown."
He ran for his roid field while signaling the scout team to exfiltrate the system. Two seekers lost it trying to keep up with the valkyrie, and issued on the closely packed silicate roids. The rest of the SF formed up on his tail as he approached the hollow asteroid. "Now, all I have to do is make a 90 degree shift at 220 m/s..."
He locked up the brakes for half a second, and just as the first incoming flares from the seekers reached prox distance, Lecter roll-banked into the opening to his left. The strike force had turboed past before it could react, and he was behind them in an instant, shredding the vultures with positron bolts and throwing a net of flares into the survivors' cockpits.
The entire combat took less than three seconds, and Lecter collected a few new law neuts from the scrap field before gently settling his valkyrie back inside the roid. He opened a bottle of scotch and poured himself a drink. He couldn't really take any more vacation time here in blue space, he had to decide on his course of action. Not that there was really a decision to be made... he'd just been putting it off. He opened a secure comm line to Sol II.
"Dr. Toshiro, I wanted to thank you for your earlier offer. While I am intrigued, there are some things you should know before you consider bringing me in here. First, despite my skills and experience, I am far from being a civilian scientist. What you would consider basic morality is of little interest to me, and if we're to work together, you must be prepared to accept, if not approve of, my methods. Second, and more specifically, I have decided to undertake a mission that will push the limits of what is considered honorable behavior more so than in the past. Be warned that if I will be working with you, I will also be engaged in business of which you can know nothing if you value your life. Do you wish to proceede?"
Sometimes the methods used have to be ...unorthodox. I shall now present you the conditions under which I am able to offer you a seat at the University as well as a lead research position in the University's laboratories:
Ownership of intellectual property will be held mutually by you and the University.
A prime of Cr 250k will be paid upon the first time of hiring, after that it will be a monthly payment of Cr 25k. The sum may seem meagre, but given the fact that the University has many fields of research, and only one budget to spend it on, you would be rewarded royally.
As for the ...business you speak of, as long as you do not inform me of anything, I shall not know anything. Of course I cannot be held responsible if the University's intelligence agency should uncover something, for I do not hold any power in that regard.
Sincerely
mifune toshiro
Ownership of intellectual property will be held mutually by you and the University.
A prime of Cr 250k will be paid upon the first time of hiring, after that it will be a monthly payment of Cr 25k. The sum may seem meagre, but given the fact that the University has many fields of research, and only one budget to spend it on, you would be rewarded royally.
As for the ...business you speak of, as long as you do not inform me of anything, I shall not know anything. Of course I cannot be held responsible if the University's intelligence agency should uncover something, for I do not hold any power in that regard.
Sincerely
mifune toshiro
/me starts humming "Rooooonery. I'm soo Ronery..." etc. etc. etc. Copyright whoevermadeteamamerica whenevertheymadeit
-Calder
-Calder
Stranded in the vastness of open space, one quickly misses the deserts of some planet surfaces.
On a desert plane, you can find plenty to survive. Dig some and you may find water if you know where to dig. Plenty creatures crawl on and bellow the sand that can provide nutriments. At least for a short while. On the other hand, open space does not even grant you one atom of useful nutriment.
At the end of his second week, wandering open space, Mogul had discovered how arid the space desert really is. Without the proper mining equipment, let alone the purification systems required for processing, even ice crystal asteroids offered no relief.
Like a bandid, Mogul would once in a while sneak in into a Corvus station. Although not killed on sight, he still was hated by most of these pilots whom Mogul had shot once or twice in the past. So rather than risking his neck at every entry, Mogul decided the desert to be the most hospitable place. For now.
Ironically, the very same people Mogul would harass in the past were now an unwilling source of salvation. Since the galaxy-wide re-calibration of weapons, some cargo could now survive a ship's explosion. A real boom for scavengers. Like Mogul now.
Nano feed, food & water supplies were interesting catches. But more important still were the medical supplies. The most coveted items in Mogul's Raptor were anti-depressants, sleep inhibitors and vitamins. With half the galaxy after him, it was the precise combination he needed. Or so he thought.
With no medical formation, however, every bottle of medecine was a risky trip into unknown territory. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, often dangerous.
The bottle that Mogul held in his hand had a big X scratched on the lid. X was good. Very good. After a succulent meal of thawed frozen goods, Mogul took time to write another log journal. His first since a couple of weeks where he was the sole actor. Living or otherwise.
Mogul, happy with the recent food bonanza he had been blessed with, decided to open the bottle and gobble down a quick dose of X. "Bless you, Placebo-xin" he said, and prepared himself for a night of well-earned rest.
On a desert plane, you can find plenty to survive. Dig some and you may find water if you know where to dig. Plenty creatures crawl on and bellow the sand that can provide nutriments. At least for a short while. On the other hand, open space does not even grant you one atom of useful nutriment.
At the end of his second week, wandering open space, Mogul had discovered how arid the space desert really is. Without the proper mining equipment, let alone the purification systems required for processing, even ice crystal asteroids offered no relief.
Like a bandid, Mogul would once in a while sneak in into a Corvus station. Although not killed on sight, he still was hated by most of these pilots whom Mogul had shot once or twice in the past. So rather than risking his neck at every entry, Mogul decided the desert to be the most hospitable place. For now.
Ironically, the very same people Mogul would harass in the past were now an unwilling source of salvation. Since the galaxy-wide re-calibration of weapons, some cargo could now survive a ship's explosion. A real boom for scavengers. Like Mogul now.
Nano feed, food & water supplies were interesting catches. But more important still were the medical supplies. The most coveted items in Mogul's Raptor were anti-depressants, sleep inhibitors and vitamins. With half the galaxy after him, it was the precise combination he needed. Or so he thought.
With no medical formation, however, every bottle of medecine was a risky trip into unknown territory. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, often dangerous.
The bottle that Mogul held in his hand had a big X scratched on the lid. X was good. Very good. After a succulent meal of thawed frozen goods, Mogul took time to write another log journal. His first since a couple of weeks where he was the sole actor. Living or otherwise.
Mogul, happy with the recent food bonanza he had been blessed with, decided to open the bottle and gobble down a quick dose of X. "Bless you, Placebo-xin" he said, and prepared himself for a night of well-earned rest.
Pulled out of a bad dream, the proximity radar on Mogul's Raptor felt like coming out of an icy pool to jump in a polar ocean. Panic struck him as he combated his sleepiness in order to put himself back on the cockpit chair.
It was a Centaur Mark II. Black painted. 100 meters in front of him. With canons aimed right at him. Mogul's blood turned to salt. He could feel every cristal grinding his veins.
Then a hail came in. Just a hail. A blip that sounded like an explosion in the dead silence of space.
The Centaur ship then straffed up dropping, at the same time, a lone crate. It stood there as if a bait for the taking. A message was then transmitted onto his console. It read:
<<
greetings
my route has lead through many encounters and the one you were hoping for was of them. i have left the note you asked. she seemed quite perplex but since i could offer not enlightenment, simply left with what you had commissioned me for.
total crate cost: 200 credits
voyage & risks cost: 20,000 credits. non negociable.
>>
It was the noob he had given some money earlier this week. One of them actually but this one was a special noob. Either oblivious or a total dork. He couldn't tell. There was something odd with that person. Perhaps simply because he didn't know who that noob was dealing with. Or perhaps he simply didn't care.
Mogul's blood warmed a bit and his mouth started to water. He started laughing and happily credited 25,000 credits to the messenger. A quick thrust brought in the cargo unit.
The messenger's ship registered more than adequate licenses already. Interesting, for a week earlier showed much less credentials. Had he still been Commander, Mogul might have enquired about this one. Perhaps would he send the messenger again. As the message itself.
A quicker yaw thrust and turbo boost left the messenger wondering why the hastiness. In no time, Mogul had warped out of there.
The crate contained a doggy bag of left-over sashimi and a half-eaten bowl of rice. A refreshing change from scavenged food crates. But the real meal was the main content of the crate unit: bottles of fresh juices; all kinds combined. More than two dozen. Thirty exactly.
Mogul opened up a bottle, sniffed it's content and offered yet another toast to his cockpit "To Itan" and slowly but reverently drank the bottle.
It was a Centaur Mark II. Black painted. 100 meters in front of him. With canons aimed right at him. Mogul's blood turned to salt. He could feel every cristal grinding his veins.
Then a hail came in. Just a hail. A blip that sounded like an explosion in the dead silence of space.
The Centaur ship then straffed up dropping, at the same time, a lone crate. It stood there as if a bait for the taking. A message was then transmitted onto his console. It read:
<<
greetings
my route has lead through many encounters and the one you were hoping for was of them. i have left the note you asked. she seemed quite perplex but since i could offer not enlightenment, simply left with what you had commissioned me for.
total crate cost: 200 credits
voyage & risks cost: 20,000 credits. non negociable.
>>
It was the noob he had given some money earlier this week. One of them actually but this one was a special noob. Either oblivious or a total dork. He couldn't tell. There was something odd with that person. Perhaps simply because he didn't know who that noob was dealing with. Or perhaps he simply didn't care.
Mogul's blood warmed a bit and his mouth started to water. He started laughing and happily credited 25,000 credits to the messenger. A quick thrust brought in the cargo unit.
The messenger's ship registered more than adequate licenses already. Interesting, for a week earlier showed much less credentials. Had he still been Commander, Mogul might have enquired about this one. Perhaps would he send the messenger again. As the message itself.
A quicker yaw thrust and turbo boost left the messenger wondering why the hastiness. In no time, Mogul had warped out of there.
The crate contained a doggy bag of left-over sashimi and a half-eaten bowl of rice. A refreshing change from scavenged food crates. But the real meal was the main content of the crate unit: bottles of fresh juices; all kinds combined. More than two dozen. Thirty exactly.
Mogul opened up a bottle, sniffed it's content and offered yet another toast to his cockpit "To Itan" and slowly but reverently drank the bottle.
Yay go Itani!
How the heck do you guys have enough time to write this?...
How the heck do you guys have enough time to write this?...
OOC: I type fast...
What do you think I do during school? Listen!? Pfft
Lol Borb
Well..thats waht you supposed to do...when i get bored i doodle and draw guns to keep me sane.
Well..thats waht you supposed to do...when i get bored i doodle and draw guns to keep me sane.
Comm Message
Transmit on all Bands
Subject: Betrayel
Addressed to: Mogul Velaio
From: Shadow Man
Body: Mogul, I'm sad to say that I've been away from the known universe for about three weeks. But, having returned, and learning about your banishment from itani space, learning how the Itani government has washed its hands of you despite all you've done for them, I've resigned from itani military duty and membership of [Itan] in protest. I can think of no greater commander to serve under than you, and I will serve under no one else. No one has earned my loyalty as you have, and it does not waver now! If you have need of me, seek me out Commander Mogul, my loyalty to the Itani shall not waver, but I have a feeling the itani people's fates are safer with you, despite being banished or discrased.
-Shadow Man
Transmit on all Bands
Subject: Betrayel
Addressed to: Mogul Velaio
From: Shadow Man
Body: Mogul, I'm sad to say that I've been away from the known universe for about three weeks. But, having returned, and learning about your banishment from itani space, learning how the Itani government has washed its hands of you despite all you've done for them, I've resigned from itani military duty and membership of [Itan] in protest. I can think of no greater commander to serve under than you, and I will serve under no one else. No one has earned my loyalty as you have, and it does not waver now! If you have need of me, seek me out Commander Mogul, my loyalty to the Itani shall not waver, but I have a feeling the itani people's fates are safer with you, despite being banished or discrased.
-Shadow Man
ShadowMan! I missed ya!
We, um, need to talk.
We, um, need to talk.
Mogul was enjoying his first real, cooked meal in almost a month. Paid at a fair price in the Corvus station in Bractus, Mogul was enjoying what was now renewed trust in him by the Corvus crown.
Two days earlier, he had arranged for some shoddy Corvus work to appear legitimate. It was his price to pay to enter the station. Mogul wasn't an ACE pilot like his nemesis were, but if there's one thing he could handle well were bureaucrats.
Not surprising he fooled the entire galaxy during the Lecter trials. Then the sentencing. And the prisoner transfer. Up to that moment where his pilot skills reminded him he was no ACE.
Mogul's paperwork was way more advanced than his piloting skills. Perhaps that's what made him a good commander in the first place. That and his uncanny ability to connect with people. Flat broke in a beat-up vult days earlier, Mogul was now aloft with money. Aloft for one who's only expenditure is food anyhow.
Strangely, the one less-likelly to ever help him, actually did. Of all people that should be upset at Mogul, Miharu should be in the top 5. She had been used for cover up of the shoddy trial and then sentencing. Herself a victim of whom Mogul purposely set free. For the sole purpose of fueling the war and, so Mogul thought, lead Itanis to victory
She had fixed his ship after using her own to stabilize the uncontrolled tumbling he was stuck into. He. First-hand proof that she could fly a ship. Then she wired money to him. Enough to get by for a while.
"Dont you think that to be a bit peculiar? asked the sympathetic Akan hallucination.
-It's clear to me, said the sympathetic Eo hallucination, that she feels sorry for you Mogul.
-Oh. As if you knew anything about sympathy, replied the arrogant hallucinations of Akan and Eo.
-Let's kill her!
-Yeah! Blow her to bits, added the evil hallucinations of Akan and Eo.
-Cool it. We're here to help you Mogul, said the friendly Akan hallucination.
-Yes. Of course. Let's meditate on our next course of action", agreed the friendly Eo hallucination.
Mogul looked at them all for a while and then decided to break the silence.
"Whoever you are, and whence ever you come from, you are all my demons. And I will get rid of you some day. But not now. I still need you for something. said Mogul.
-Indeed indeed my friend. Let's use them for a while", said the talkin bottle of Placebo-Xin.
Mogul signed up the last paper and wired it to the competent Itani administration, under a false name.
Yes. Those bureaucrats took them papers in, stamped them, classified them and buried them like all previous papers they ever received. it was so easy to fool bureaucrats, Mogul sometimes thought maybe he should be in business brokerage.
Moments later, a reply was wired back. It was done.
Mogul wasn't alone now and had an organization to work under.
For a while.
Two days earlier, he had arranged for some shoddy Corvus work to appear legitimate. It was his price to pay to enter the station. Mogul wasn't an ACE pilot like his nemesis were, but if there's one thing he could handle well were bureaucrats.
Not surprising he fooled the entire galaxy during the Lecter trials. Then the sentencing. And the prisoner transfer. Up to that moment where his pilot skills reminded him he was no ACE.
Mogul's paperwork was way more advanced than his piloting skills. Perhaps that's what made him a good commander in the first place. That and his uncanny ability to connect with people. Flat broke in a beat-up vult days earlier, Mogul was now aloft with money. Aloft for one who's only expenditure is food anyhow.
Strangely, the one less-likelly to ever help him, actually did. Of all people that should be upset at Mogul, Miharu should be in the top 5. She had been used for cover up of the shoddy trial and then sentencing. Herself a victim of whom Mogul purposely set free. For the sole purpose of fueling the war and, so Mogul thought, lead Itanis to victory
She had fixed his ship after using her own to stabilize the uncontrolled tumbling he was stuck into. He. First-hand proof that she could fly a ship. Then she wired money to him. Enough to get by for a while.
"Dont you think that to be a bit peculiar? asked the sympathetic Akan hallucination.
-It's clear to me, said the sympathetic Eo hallucination, that she feels sorry for you Mogul.
-Oh. As if you knew anything about sympathy, replied the arrogant hallucinations of Akan and Eo.
-Let's kill her!
-Yeah! Blow her to bits, added the evil hallucinations of Akan and Eo.
-Cool it. We're here to help you Mogul, said the friendly Akan hallucination.
-Yes. Of course. Let's meditate on our next course of action", agreed the friendly Eo hallucination.
Mogul looked at them all for a while and then decided to break the silence.
"Whoever you are, and whence ever you come from, you are all my demons. And I will get rid of you some day. But not now. I still need you for something. said Mogul.
-Indeed indeed my friend. Let's use them for a while", said the talkin bottle of Placebo-Xin.
Mogul signed up the last paper and wired it to the competent Itani administration, under a false name.
Yes. Those bureaucrats took them papers in, stamped them, classified them and buried them like all previous papers they ever received. it was so easy to fool bureaucrats, Mogul sometimes thought maybe he should be in business brokerage.
Moments later, a reply was wired back. It was done.
Mogul wasn't alone now and had an organization to work under.
For a while.