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Quirc Taranis was born into a stable family of traders at Edras Crossroads, Edras B-11. From a very early age he immediately took interest in the docking areas of the station, often caught wandering after his father, Aziren Taranis, an intra-system trader. Although his father suffered frequent jests for his child always following him, he never sent Quirc away in punishment; usually a quiet word, and the look in his father's eyes, was enough persuasion.
At the incredibly young age of eight, Quirc was finally allowed on board his father's Wraith. Despite immediate opposition from his wife, the argument was quickly ended when Quirc came running into the room with a naive grin on his face and a model of a wraith in hand, a toy credstick in the other. For the next several years, Quirc served as his father's apprentice on board the Wraith.
Aziren quickly recognized the potential his son had in the business. Despite Quirc's age and appearance, his oddly timed comments or suggestions brought quick and profitable ends to many trade agreements his father attempted to make with the Itani; the benevolent Itani culture had a special reverence for children, and Quirc played them to that end whenever he could, much to his father's enjoyment and profit. With the vastly increased income the pair brought the family, they moved from a lowly apartment in the lower levels to a splendid condo with spectacular views.
Peaceful trading was not Quirc's only pursuit. As his father's ship allowed him to visit the Itani side of the system again and again, he became interested in the martial arts and philosophical writings studied there, often purchasing books and training material on the subjects to take back with him. His father took note of this and was apprehensive; however, when Quirc began using his training in these areas to further impress the Itani to his own gains, Aziren gave it his full support.
When Quirc reached the age of 18, Aziren surprised him with a government license and his first EC class vessel. Overjoyed, the teen quickly began flying alongside his father. Aziren was surprised to see his son making quick progress, and amazed to find that barely a week into his career, Quirc had funded his own Wraith. The pair became minor legends among the local commerce community in Edras for their unusual success in UIT - Itani trade.
As the pair made their way out from the Itani side of the system one day, a pair of Vultures closely followed. The traders gave the vessels no thought, confident in the security brought by the station guards at both stations, and the only two sectors they ever visited. Until they got caught in the ion storm.
The pair of wraiths stopped in disorientating twists, and Aziren quickly located the exit point on his nav interface. Instructing his son to follow, he reached for his turbo.
Quirc followed his father's orders, but something nagged at him from the back of his mind. Before he could question it, the Vultures entered the scene.
Quirc watched in horror as the vessels fired warning shots into his father's ship, and demanded he cut his engines. His father quickly advised his son to break for the exit as he stopped his ship, wanting at least part of their cargo to make it on time; however, Quirc wasn't ready to leave his father to the mercy of pirates, and hotheadedly turned his bulky ship to face the aggressors.
As one of the Vultures took notice of him and made plans to capture the additional cargo, it fired a shot into his ship. The impact shook the flight deck, nearly throwing Quirc out of his seat; the young pilot, enraged by the profit being lost in front of him, activated his Stingray and Firefly launchers on the fighter. His target was forced to limp away with life support and engine damage.
The remaining fighter immediately announced it would destroy Aziren's ship if Quirc did not immediately leave his cargo and vacate the sector; in response, the teenager fired again. The pirate, being ready for this, easily dodged the missiles, placing several shots on his father's engine plating. Aziren, now immobilized, could only watch in horror at the firefight taking place around him, fearing for the lives of himself and his son, cursing the naive moves Quirc was making, and hoping he would make it home alive.
Quirc soon found his ship to be at a huge disadvantage as the pirate danced around him, his ship continuously shaking as neutron blasts ripped through his armor. The bright blue announcement of another ship surprised all three pilots. So did the Swarm missiles that immediately obliterated the Vulture and the nanobot charge that repaired Aziren's engines.
Baral Heia had heard of Quirc's unusual progress from as far away as Odia, and had traveled to Edras in search of the young trader. Now, in his Ragnarok, he watched with concealed interest as the two wounded Wraiths quickly limped to the exit and to B-11. Yes, this pilot was ideal.
The two traders arrived at Edras Crossroads fifteen minutes late and lost their first bonus in over a decade; neither father nor son cared a whit. Their ships and now unloaded cargo intact and repaired, the pair began to make their way off the docks when another pilot intercepted them. "Quirc Taranis?" Aziren, expecting the interest to be in himself, stared at the man; Quirc, expecting the same, replied. "Yes?" "My name is Baral, and I work out of Odia. I have a trade offer you cannot refuse." "That depends on the offer. Dad?" Aziren nodded and left his son with the stranger; he knew how it worked, and had long harbored a hunch that his son was bound for more than the simple trading of Edras.
"Walk with me." Baral gestured towards his Ragnarok, a ship Quirc had seen only from the windows of the station. A combat ship. An expensive combat ship. "What trade agreement is this?" Baral stopped and turned to face him. "That depends on the profit."
"Your cargo will be known to you only by the paperwork we at Corvus provide. You will have access to better vessels and better equipment. We will trust you to make any further arrangements to... expedite things." "You want a smuggler." "They want a trader." The man stopped as they reached the ship and turned to face Quirc, saying nothing in words but plenty in his eyes. Quirc stared impassively back at him. "I'll expect compensation for the risks." "You'll have it." Quirc's eyes narrowed briefly. "Alright... what's the job?" Baral smiled. Yes, he was right after all... "You will travel to Odia M-14, Corvus Hold. There we will outfit you with the proper equipment."
Quirc walked through the corridors of the station, his face impassive as his mind churned over the day's events. Corvus in Edras? For him? Why did pirates attack him and his father? How could there possibly have been an ion storm in E-7, and pirates following them the very same day? Why was Baral there at the most convenient of times to save their vessels? A strange amount of coincidences... "Quirc?"
"Quirc, snap out of it." Aziren tugged his son into the condo and shut the door. Before Quirc could open his mouth, his father cut him off with a hand gesture. "Did you make a deal?" "Yes." "Good.” His father hesitated, and then walked to a small retinal safe installed into the condo wall. Opening it, he pulled out a strange data device. The thing looked ancient, and Quirc wondered if it was compatible with... well... anything. Aziren placed it in his hand. "You should take this with you to Odia, and never let it leave your possession." "What is it?" "Have someone at Odia install it into your ship and you'll be sure to find out." Aziren smiled at his son. "Now, get outta here and don't be too late. Those Corvus folk pay well down there, but they won't bother if they think you're incompetent." Quirc nodded, shook hands with his father, and soon after left the station.
Baral watched as the battered Wraith docked at Corvus Hold, and greeted Quirc as he disembarked. "Good, you made it here..." He glanced at the cargo of XiRite Alloy. "...and so did our cargo. Excellent. So long as that keeps up, we will gladly keep you employed." "The credits?" "Yes, yes, of course." Baral slipped a 100k credstick into Quirc's hand. The trader looked impassively at the vast sum, and decided he had made the right choice in taking these Corvus up on their offer as he slipped it into his pocket. "So, what now?" "Now we outfit you with the proper equipment. That Centaur over there is yours. I took the liberty of having it painted with a similar coloration." For the first time, Quirc's face showed evidence of surprise as he looked upon the heavy transport. "Why give me all this? What's the catch?" Baral smiled once again. "The catch? You work for us. You are loyal to us. The catch? Your records won't show it until you 'publicly' earn the appropriate standings." "I see. Then I only have one condition." Baral raised an eyebrow. "I was not aware you deserved any conditions." "I require it." Quirc produced his father's data device from his pocket. "I want this installed into the Centaur." Baral's eyes narrowed, but he decided to give his new recruit this one allowance, and nodded. "I recognize this device. I will authorize the... appropriate adjustments to your ship." Adjustments? What the hell is this thing...? Quirc nodded. "I accept your terms." "Good. Your cargo and destination are already arranged. The man standing at the door over there will arrange a bunk for you until preparations are complete." Without another word, Baral left Quirc alone by the Centaur.
Quirc opened his eyes to see nondescript grey ceiling. He swung his legs over the bed and stood, already fully clothed; the bunk didn’t come with sheets or a pillow. Walking out of the small room, he began his exploration of Corvus Hold. It held most things Edras Crossroads did, though the populace seemed to be somewhat more... egotistical in nature. Finding an appropriately quiet bar for his tastes, he sat and ordered a glass of water. The bartender looked at him like he was from another planet before breaking into raucous laughter. "Water? You gotta be s***tin' me kid." Quirc tossed a few credits on the table. "Put the money where your mouth is." The bartender grunted and took the money, giving Quirc a surprisingly clean-looking mug of purified water. "There." Quirc nodded impassively and sipped at it, watching passersby and other bar patrons with concealed curiosity... "Hey, you there, lost yer mommy?"
Quirc turned to face the voice. The disheveled and evidently drunk pilot poked him in the chest, smirking widely. Quirc glared back at him. "Why, lookin' to be one?" The man's eyes flared and he stood up awkwardly, knocking his beer over as he did. "Yer gonna cry like a whiny b**** for that one, kid!" Quirc sighed and stood up, saying nothing as other patrons turned to watch the newest entertainment. As the man made a drunken grab at him, Quirc stepped aside and allowed his would-be attacker quick access to the deck plating under them. The man let out a choked cry of pain as Quirc stepped on his neck, looking around. The other patrons, content to mind their own business, looked back to their drinks.
Quirc made his way down to the docks and was quickly intercepted by a man as young as himself, who handed him a small datapad with obvious envy. "Here's the paperwork for your cargo, and the destination. Your ship is ready to go." Quirc nodded and slipped a few credits to the deckboy. "Thank you." As he walked into his new ship, he was immediately amazed at the facilities. Living quarters, an expanded (and filled) cargo bay, a dining and kitchen area, an extensive flight deck with walking room. Finished with his first tour and satisfied everything seemed to be in working order; he sat in the somewhat more comfortable pilot's chair, twirling his father's gift in his hand. The Corvus techs had made some changes that he immediately noticed. An archaic, almost comical looking screen had been haphazardly bolted to the main panel, barely out of the way of the nav interface. Beside it, a slot had been squeezed into the panel, shaped like it would fit the device he held in his hand. A retinal scanner? Quirc raised an eyebrow at that one. A bit extreme... he reached for the ignition controls and hit them. The scanner replied by lighting up. Quirc sighed and decided to humor his new employers, sitting back as it scanned his eyes. But the ship wouldn't start.
Quirc began flipping switches and running diagnostics, quickly becoming frustrated; everything was working properly, and the reactor still wouldn't start up as he wanted! Then it hit him. Of course. He took the strange device and slid it into the slot in the panel. <Woah, let there be light!>
Quirc jumped at the strange, deep voice. "Who's there?!" The ship shuddered to life around him and began to undock... without his permission. <I'm here, kid. You put me here. What, not awake yet?> The screen flickered to life, and a strangely shaped... thing appeared. Flickering with a dim yellowish glow, the blue eyes blinked at him as though they could see him plain as day... and it smiled. "What the hell is this?" Quirc grabbed the flight controls and tried getting control of the Centaur, without success. What the hell did his father give him... then it hit. An AI. Of course... his father wanted to give him an edge. <There you go, you've figured it out.> The face on the screen smiled... or at least, it looked like it smiled. <Now that you know what I am, I'll go ahead and introduce myself. I am Extraxi, shipboard AI, and effectively YOUR ship right now. So don't make me mad.> It made something akin to a grin. <And you are Aziren's grandson.> "He's my father, not my grandfather." <I never said I was referring to Aziren Junior.> Quirc sighed. "Just so long as we make it to..." <Helios. I know. I read the datapad soon as you moved me in here.> Quirc stared at the screen. "So just what the hell am I looking at here?" <Oh, I just like projecting myself this way. It's from the ancient texts, a mythical creature called a wyvern. I felt it was appropriate for someone like me.> The AI smiled at him again. <I've actually looked forward to meeting you. I've met your father and grandfather, both of whom seemed quite decent.> Quirc allowed a smile for the entity, finally realizing what his father had done. "You'll have plenty of time, Extraxi."
Quirc sat at the table, sipping green tea from a handleless mug. <Quirc, we've reached Helios. Would you like to make the docking arrangements?> "Yeah, I'll be righ..."
"Nah, you can go ahead." <Always making me do all the work...> Quirc barely made out a quiet laugh, the unique one his AI always made with every snide comment. The battered Centaur began its approach, countless hours of space travel having taken its toll on the paint. Quirc sat back, nursing the mug. Years of working for the Corvus had brought a good sum, enough to furnish the ship nicely, and guarantee his father's retirement... and his reputation. Another cargo of "Cerebral Implants" delivered reliably and in good condition. Yeah, not that bad of a life. Quiet sky, a good companion, a good ship, reliable profit.
A decent profit.
Rule 1: Stay under the scanners.
Rule 2: Never open the cargo.
Rule 3: Rumors can lead to profit.
Rule 4: Money is both the means and the end.
Rule 5: Always deliver.
At the incredibly young age of eight, Quirc was finally allowed on board his father's Wraith. Despite immediate opposition from his wife, the argument was quickly ended when Quirc came running into the room with a naive grin on his face and a model of a wraith in hand, a toy credstick in the other. For the next several years, Quirc served as his father's apprentice on board the Wraith.
Aziren quickly recognized the potential his son had in the business. Despite Quirc's age and appearance, his oddly timed comments or suggestions brought quick and profitable ends to many trade agreements his father attempted to make with the Itani; the benevolent Itani culture had a special reverence for children, and Quirc played them to that end whenever he could, much to his father's enjoyment and profit. With the vastly increased income the pair brought the family, they moved from a lowly apartment in the lower levels to a splendid condo with spectacular views.
Peaceful trading was not Quirc's only pursuit. As his father's ship allowed him to visit the Itani side of the system again and again, he became interested in the martial arts and philosophical writings studied there, often purchasing books and training material on the subjects to take back with him. His father took note of this and was apprehensive; however, when Quirc began using his training in these areas to further impress the Itani to his own gains, Aziren gave it his full support.
When Quirc reached the age of 18, Aziren surprised him with a government license and his first EC class vessel. Overjoyed, the teen quickly began flying alongside his father. Aziren was surprised to see his son making quick progress, and amazed to find that barely a week into his career, Quirc had funded his own Wraith. The pair became minor legends among the local commerce community in Edras for their unusual success in UIT - Itani trade.
As the pair made their way out from the Itani side of the system one day, a pair of Vultures closely followed. The traders gave the vessels no thought, confident in the security brought by the station guards at both stations, and the only two sectors they ever visited. Until they got caught in the ion storm.
The pair of wraiths stopped in disorientating twists, and Aziren quickly located the exit point on his nav interface. Instructing his son to follow, he reached for his turbo.
Quirc followed his father's orders, but something nagged at him from the back of his mind. Before he could question it, the Vultures entered the scene.
Quirc watched in horror as the vessels fired warning shots into his father's ship, and demanded he cut his engines. His father quickly advised his son to break for the exit as he stopped his ship, wanting at least part of their cargo to make it on time; however, Quirc wasn't ready to leave his father to the mercy of pirates, and hotheadedly turned his bulky ship to face the aggressors.
As one of the Vultures took notice of him and made plans to capture the additional cargo, it fired a shot into his ship. The impact shook the flight deck, nearly throwing Quirc out of his seat; the young pilot, enraged by the profit being lost in front of him, activated his Stingray and Firefly launchers on the fighter. His target was forced to limp away with life support and engine damage.
The remaining fighter immediately announced it would destroy Aziren's ship if Quirc did not immediately leave his cargo and vacate the sector; in response, the teenager fired again. The pirate, being ready for this, easily dodged the missiles, placing several shots on his father's engine plating. Aziren, now immobilized, could only watch in horror at the firefight taking place around him, fearing for the lives of himself and his son, cursing the naive moves Quirc was making, and hoping he would make it home alive.
Quirc soon found his ship to be at a huge disadvantage as the pirate danced around him, his ship continuously shaking as neutron blasts ripped through his armor. The bright blue announcement of another ship surprised all three pilots. So did the Swarm missiles that immediately obliterated the Vulture and the nanobot charge that repaired Aziren's engines.
Baral Heia had heard of Quirc's unusual progress from as far away as Odia, and had traveled to Edras in search of the young trader. Now, in his Ragnarok, he watched with concealed interest as the two wounded Wraiths quickly limped to the exit and to B-11. Yes, this pilot was ideal.
The two traders arrived at Edras Crossroads fifteen minutes late and lost their first bonus in over a decade; neither father nor son cared a whit. Their ships and now unloaded cargo intact and repaired, the pair began to make their way off the docks when another pilot intercepted them. "Quirc Taranis?" Aziren, expecting the interest to be in himself, stared at the man; Quirc, expecting the same, replied. "Yes?" "My name is Baral, and I work out of Odia. I have a trade offer you cannot refuse." "That depends on the offer. Dad?" Aziren nodded and left his son with the stranger; he knew how it worked, and had long harbored a hunch that his son was bound for more than the simple trading of Edras.
"Walk with me." Baral gestured towards his Ragnarok, a ship Quirc had seen only from the windows of the station. A combat ship. An expensive combat ship. "What trade agreement is this?" Baral stopped and turned to face him. "That depends on the profit."
"Your cargo will be known to you only by the paperwork we at Corvus provide. You will have access to better vessels and better equipment. We will trust you to make any further arrangements to... expedite things." "You want a smuggler." "They want a trader." The man stopped as they reached the ship and turned to face Quirc, saying nothing in words but plenty in his eyes. Quirc stared impassively back at him. "I'll expect compensation for the risks." "You'll have it." Quirc's eyes narrowed briefly. "Alright... what's the job?" Baral smiled. Yes, he was right after all... "You will travel to Odia M-14, Corvus Hold. There we will outfit you with the proper equipment."
Quirc walked through the corridors of the station, his face impassive as his mind churned over the day's events. Corvus in Edras? For him? Why did pirates attack him and his father? How could there possibly have been an ion storm in E-7, and pirates following them the very same day? Why was Baral there at the most convenient of times to save their vessels? A strange amount of coincidences... "Quirc?"
"Quirc, snap out of it." Aziren tugged his son into the condo and shut the door. Before Quirc could open his mouth, his father cut him off with a hand gesture. "Did you make a deal?" "Yes." "Good.” His father hesitated, and then walked to a small retinal safe installed into the condo wall. Opening it, he pulled out a strange data device. The thing looked ancient, and Quirc wondered if it was compatible with... well... anything. Aziren placed it in his hand. "You should take this with you to Odia, and never let it leave your possession." "What is it?" "Have someone at Odia install it into your ship and you'll be sure to find out." Aziren smiled at his son. "Now, get outta here and don't be too late. Those Corvus folk pay well down there, but they won't bother if they think you're incompetent." Quirc nodded, shook hands with his father, and soon after left the station.
Baral watched as the battered Wraith docked at Corvus Hold, and greeted Quirc as he disembarked. "Good, you made it here..." He glanced at the cargo of XiRite Alloy. "...and so did our cargo. Excellent. So long as that keeps up, we will gladly keep you employed." "The credits?" "Yes, yes, of course." Baral slipped a 100k credstick into Quirc's hand. The trader looked impassively at the vast sum, and decided he had made the right choice in taking these Corvus up on their offer as he slipped it into his pocket. "So, what now?" "Now we outfit you with the proper equipment. That Centaur over there is yours. I took the liberty of having it painted with a similar coloration." For the first time, Quirc's face showed evidence of surprise as he looked upon the heavy transport. "Why give me all this? What's the catch?" Baral smiled once again. "The catch? You work for us. You are loyal to us. The catch? Your records won't show it until you 'publicly' earn the appropriate standings." "I see. Then I only have one condition." Baral raised an eyebrow. "I was not aware you deserved any conditions." "I require it." Quirc produced his father's data device from his pocket. "I want this installed into the Centaur." Baral's eyes narrowed, but he decided to give his new recruit this one allowance, and nodded. "I recognize this device. I will authorize the... appropriate adjustments to your ship." Adjustments? What the hell is this thing...? Quirc nodded. "I accept your terms." "Good. Your cargo and destination are already arranged. The man standing at the door over there will arrange a bunk for you until preparations are complete." Without another word, Baral left Quirc alone by the Centaur.
Quirc opened his eyes to see nondescript grey ceiling. He swung his legs over the bed and stood, already fully clothed; the bunk didn’t come with sheets or a pillow. Walking out of the small room, he began his exploration of Corvus Hold. It held most things Edras Crossroads did, though the populace seemed to be somewhat more... egotistical in nature. Finding an appropriately quiet bar for his tastes, he sat and ordered a glass of water. The bartender looked at him like he was from another planet before breaking into raucous laughter. "Water? You gotta be s***tin' me kid." Quirc tossed a few credits on the table. "Put the money where your mouth is." The bartender grunted and took the money, giving Quirc a surprisingly clean-looking mug of purified water. "There." Quirc nodded impassively and sipped at it, watching passersby and other bar patrons with concealed curiosity... "Hey, you there, lost yer mommy?"
Quirc turned to face the voice. The disheveled and evidently drunk pilot poked him in the chest, smirking widely. Quirc glared back at him. "Why, lookin' to be one?" The man's eyes flared and he stood up awkwardly, knocking his beer over as he did. "Yer gonna cry like a whiny b**** for that one, kid!" Quirc sighed and stood up, saying nothing as other patrons turned to watch the newest entertainment. As the man made a drunken grab at him, Quirc stepped aside and allowed his would-be attacker quick access to the deck plating under them. The man let out a choked cry of pain as Quirc stepped on his neck, looking around. The other patrons, content to mind their own business, looked back to their drinks.
Quirc made his way down to the docks and was quickly intercepted by a man as young as himself, who handed him a small datapad with obvious envy. "Here's the paperwork for your cargo, and the destination. Your ship is ready to go." Quirc nodded and slipped a few credits to the deckboy. "Thank you." As he walked into his new ship, he was immediately amazed at the facilities. Living quarters, an expanded (and filled) cargo bay, a dining and kitchen area, an extensive flight deck with walking room. Finished with his first tour and satisfied everything seemed to be in working order; he sat in the somewhat more comfortable pilot's chair, twirling his father's gift in his hand. The Corvus techs had made some changes that he immediately noticed. An archaic, almost comical looking screen had been haphazardly bolted to the main panel, barely out of the way of the nav interface. Beside it, a slot had been squeezed into the panel, shaped like it would fit the device he held in his hand. A retinal scanner? Quirc raised an eyebrow at that one. A bit extreme... he reached for the ignition controls and hit them. The scanner replied by lighting up. Quirc sighed and decided to humor his new employers, sitting back as it scanned his eyes. But the ship wouldn't start.
Quirc began flipping switches and running diagnostics, quickly becoming frustrated; everything was working properly, and the reactor still wouldn't start up as he wanted! Then it hit him. Of course. He took the strange device and slid it into the slot in the panel. <Woah, let there be light!>
Quirc jumped at the strange, deep voice. "Who's there?!" The ship shuddered to life around him and began to undock... without his permission. <I'm here, kid. You put me here. What, not awake yet?> The screen flickered to life, and a strangely shaped... thing appeared. Flickering with a dim yellowish glow, the blue eyes blinked at him as though they could see him plain as day... and it smiled. "What the hell is this?" Quirc grabbed the flight controls and tried getting control of the Centaur, without success. What the hell did his father give him... then it hit. An AI. Of course... his father wanted to give him an edge. <There you go, you've figured it out.> The face on the screen smiled... or at least, it looked like it smiled. <Now that you know what I am, I'll go ahead and introduce myself. I am Extraxi, shipboard AI, and effectively YOUR ship right now. So don't make me mad.> It made something akin to a grin. <And you are Aziren's grandson.> "He's my father, not my grandfather." <I never said I was referring to Aziren Junior.> Quirc sighed. "Just so long as we make it to..." <Helios. I know. I read the datapad soon as you moved me in here.> Quirc stared at the screen. "So just what the hell am I looking at here?" <Oh, I just like projecting myself this way. It's from the ancient texts, a mythical creature called a wyvern. I felt it was appropriate for someone like me.> The AI smiled at him again. <I've actually looked forward to meeting you. I've met your father and grandfather, both of whom seemed quite decent.> Quirc allowed a smile for the entity, finally realizing what his father had done. "You'll have plenty of time, Extraxi."
Quirc sat at the table, sipping green tea from a handleless mug. <Quirc, we've reached Helios. Would you like to make the docking arrangements?> "Yeah, I'll be righ..."
"Nah, you can go ahead." <Always making me do all the work...> Quirc barely made out a quiet laugh, the unique one his AI always made with every snide comment. The battered Centaur began its approach, countless hours of space travel having taken its toll on the paint. Quirc sat back, nursing the mug. Years of working for the Corvus had brought a good sum, enough to furnish the ship nicely, and guarantee his father's retirement... and his reputation. Another cargo of "Cerebral Implants" delivered reliably and in good condition. Yeah, not that bad of a life. Quiet sky, a good companion, a good ship, reliable profit.
A decent profit.
Rule 1: Stay under the scanners.
Rule 2: Never open the cargo.
Rule 3: Rumors can lead to profit.
Rule 4: Money is both the means and the end.
Rule 5: Always deliver.
damn nice story, i enjoyed it
Quirc sat at attention in the Centaur's padded seat, gently maneuvering the graceful vessel into dock. Corvus Hold. He stared at the airlock doors. Credits waiting past those, as was another job... and something else. For the first time in a while, Quirc was docking the ship himself, leaving his AI to running last-minute diagnostics. Funny how Baral had contacted him so cryptically, especially considering they had hardly spoken since his recruitment. But when Baral talked, it wasn't to waste breath; considering what Quirc had recieved the last time, he wasn't about to ignore the man either.
"Hello there, Mr. Taranis."
Quirc sat in the plush office, a stark contrast from the hallway outside. The place looked almost like something out of a bad holofilm, but Quirc wasn't about to say that to the man's face; after all, he had NEVER been called into a fatcat's office before. "Why am I here?" Baral Heia rested back in the cliche "big boss" chair behind the desk and smirked. "Always being blunt. I like that." Baral gestured at a datapad sitting on the desk. "I also like your Corvus records. You've done well for yourself, and you've earned me quite a reputation as a recruiter." Quirc narrowed his eyes and sat back in the much less comfortable chair he'd been given. "Still waitin' for me answer." Baral smiled. "Your public and private Corvus standing has rocketed in the time you've been working with us. Always reliable, always discreet. You've brought me quite the profit and reputation, and it's time I return the favor." Baral leaned forward in the seat. "In the time we've been speaking here, your belongings have been transferred to a... unique vessel." "Oh?" Quirc's expression changed to a curious one. "Yes. It is a Corvus Marauder, the usual ship fatcats such as I tend to favor... but I've made a couple... modifications." "I'm listening." "You're good at that." Baral leaned back. "I've had several things modified. The cargo hold has been extended to allow for additional capacity and more... adequate living quarters. I've also authorized a prototype engine feedback system; if it works correctly, your engines should be self-sustained during full burn. You'll be able to exhaust any other Corvus Marauder out there... though your maximum speed, I'm sorry to say, has suffered a slight loss as a result." Quirc's eyes narrowed but Baral waved a dismissing hand. "Regardless, Quirc, it will be much more agile than your old Centaur, and faster too. You'll also be happy to see that you can actually shoot something with it if you choose."
Baral picked up the datapad, hit a few buttons, and slid it over. Quirc picked it up and looked at the schematics. Baral smiled. "Now, as you undoubtedly know, such modifications are far from legal outside of the grey. I've taken the liberty to change the registration and transponder signals of the ship to match the closest thing to it, a TPG Type X." Quirc stared at the datapad a few seconds longer before sliding it back across the desk. "It's impressive." "Of course it is; I oversaw it." Baral grinned. "Now, you ain't obligated to work only for me anymore. Consider this a... 'graduation gift'. You're an independent now... but just remember who got you there." Quirc nodded. "I will... thanks." "Don't mention it." Baral put his boots up on his desk. "Now, I know you took your AI with you here as I requested. Go plug it into your new boat. You're always welcome here." Quirc nodded again, and walked out without another word.
"It's impressive." Quirc sat in the oddly comfortable seat. Small, but it reformed around his body every time he sat in it... <Yeah, it is.> Extraxi walked back and forth in the space between Quirc and the flightdeck windows. <I'm liking my new mobility as well.> "Yeah, they really decked this thing out. I'm still gonna have to get used to not controlling the thing with my hands, though." <They took advantage of the Itani skills you've practiced is all. So start using them.> Extraxi grinned, the AI lying on it's stomach.. on nothingness. Quirc sat back. "Yeah, I guess.. just.. you take it out. Don't wanna make a fool of myself." Extraxi laughed... a loud laugh. Nice audio system. <You got it, kid.> The Marauder quickly jetted out of the bay and into open space, clearing the station. Extraxi tilted his head and stared at Quirc. <Well...? Fly it already!> Quirc took a breath and closed his eyes, trying to remember everything he'd practiced from the writings...
The Marauder's engines gently flared to life and began to accelerate the ship. Despite his eyes being closed, Quirc could feel and see everything... his surroundings, the engine power, the weapons readiness... weapons.. what weapons? TPG Sparrow phases? Clever.... Quirc hit the turbo, now fully immersed. The ship is part of me, I am the ship - I am too kid! - Outta me head fer now man! Ship is me, I am the ship... I am the ship... I'm flying! Wheeeee....
The Marauder's turbo kicked on as it approached the fragmented ice asteroid mere kilometers from the station. Quirc took his vessel down into it's canyons, flipping through corners, spinning through tight spots. It handled like a fighter when empty, and an empty Centaur when full... and he loved it... - Hey, kid. We've got jobs to find, remember? - Yeah, yeah... fine... take back control, and I'll go see to the galley. -You... <...got it.> Quirc got out of the seat and took a moment to look at the flight deck again. It was awfully lavish for a Corvus... let alone a smuggling... ship; vismetal decking and deck panels made sitting in the seat seem like sitting by yourself in the black... and it made his ship VERY secure. The only two entities that could run it would always be himself and Extraxi. Quirc noticed the odd contrast as he walked into the accessway, the openness suddenly changing to closed, narrow structure. He sat in the dining area and looked around. "Where's them controls for... anything?" <Oh, you just gotta ask me.> Quirc jumped. "Extraxi, you mean this is all tied into you now?" <Yup.> "Gonna feel weird askin' you to make me tea." <I think its funny.>
The Marauder set a course for Helios, a cargo of 'Mechanical Parts' waiting for them.
Rule 1: Stay under the scanners.
Rule 2: Never open the cargo.
Rule 3: Rumors can lead to profit.
Rule 4: Money is both the means and the end.
Rule 5: Always deliver.
...Rule 6: Don't make Extraxi mad.
"Hello there, Mr. Taranis."
Quirc sat in the plush office, a stark contrast from the hallway outside. The place looked almost like something out of a bad holofilm, but Quirc wasn't about to say that to the man's face; after all, he had NEVER been called into a fatcat's office before. "Why am I here?" Baral Heia rested back in the cliche "big boss" chair behind the desk and smirked. "Always being blunt. I like that." Baral gestured at a datapad sitting on the desk. "I also like your Corvus records. You've done well for yourself, and you've earned me quite a reputation as a recruiter." Quirc narrowed his eyes and sat back in the much less comfortable chair he'd been given. "Still waitin' for me answer." Baral smiled. "Your public and private Corvus standing has rocketed in the time you've been working with us. Always reliable, always discreet. You've brought me quite the profit and reputation, and it's time I return the favor." Baral leaned forward in the seat. "In the time we've been speaking here, your belongings have been transferred to a... unique vessel." "Oh?" Quirc's expression changed to a curious one. "Yes. It is a Corvus Marauder, the usual ship fatcats such as I tend to favor... but I've made a couple... modifications." "I'm listening." "You're good at that." Baral leaned back. "I've had several things modified. The cargo hold has been extended to allow for additional capacity and more... adequate living quarters. I've also authorized a prototype engine feedback system; if it works correctly, your engines should be self-sustained during full burn. You'll be able to exhaust any other Corvus Marauder out there... though your maximum speed, I'm sorry to say, has suffered a slight loss as a result." Quirc's eyes narrowed but Baral waved a dismissing hand. "Regardless, Quirc, it will be much more agile than your old Centaur, and faster too. You'll also be happy to see that you can actually shoot something with it if you choose."
Baral picked up the datapad, hit a few buttons, and slid it over. Quirc picked it up and looked at the schematics. Baral smiled. "Now, as you undoubtedly know, such modifications are far from legal outside of the grey. I've taken the liberty to change the registration and transponder signals of the ship to match the closest thing to it, a TPG Type X." Quirc stared at the datapad a few seconds longer before sliding it back across the desk. "It's impressive." "Of course it is; I oversaw it." Baral grinned. "Now, you ain't obligated to work only for me anymore. Consider this a... 'graduation gift'. You're an independent now... but just remember who got you there." Quirc nodded. "I will... thanks." "Don't mention it." Baral put his boots up on his desk. "Now, I know you took your AI with you here as I requested. Go plug it into your new boat. You're always welcome here." Quirc nodded again, and walked out without another word.
"It's impressive." Quirc sat in the oddly comfortable seat. Small, but it reformed around his body every time he sat in it... <Yeah, it is.> Extraxi walked back and forth in the space between Quirc and the flightdeck windows. <I'm liking my new mobility as well.> "Yeah, they really decked this thing out. I'm still gonna have to get used to not controlling the thing with my hands, though." <They took advantage of the Itani skills you've practiced is all. So start using them.> Extraxi grinned, the AI lying on it's stomach.. on nothingness. Quirc sat back. "Yeah, I guess.. just.. you take it out. Don't wanna make a fool of myself." Extraxi laughed... a loud laugh. Nice audio system. <You got it, kid.> The Marauder quickly jetted out of the bay and into open space, clearing the station. Extraxi tilted his head and stared at Quirc. <Well...? Fly it already!> Quirc took a breath and closed his eyes, trying to remember everything he'd practiced from the writings...
The Marauder's engines gently flared to life and began to accelerate the ship. Despite his eyes being closed, Quirc could feel and see everything... his surroundings, the engine power, the weapons readiness... weapons.. what weapons? TPG Sparrow phases? Clever.... Quirc hit the turbo, now fully immersed. The ship is part of me, I am the ship - I am too kid! - Outta me head fer now man! Ship is me, I am the ship... I am the ship... I'm flying! Wheeeee....
The Marauder's turbo kicked on as it approached the fragmented ice asteroid mere kilometers from the station. Quirc took his vessel down into it's canyons, flipping through corners, spinning through tight spots. It handled like a fighter when empty, and an empty Centaur when full... and he loved it... - Hey, kid. We've got jobs to find, remember? - Yeah, yeah... fine... take back control, and I'll go see to the galley. -You... <...got it.> Quirc got out of the seat and took a moment to look at the flight deck again. It was awfully lavish for a Corvus... let alone a smuggling... ship; vismetal decking and deck panels made sitting in the seat seem like sitting by yourself in the black... and it made his ship VERY secure. The only two entities that could run it would always be himself and Extraxi. Quirc noticed the odd contrast as he walked into the accessway, the openness suddenly changing to closed, narrow structure. He sat in the dining area and looked around. "Where's them controls for... anything?" <Oh, you just gotta ask me.> Quirc jumped. "Extraxi, you mean this is all tied into you now?" <Yup.> "Gonna feel weird askin' you to make me tea." <I think its funny.>
The Marauder set a course for Helios, a cargo of 'Mechanical Parts' waiting for them.
Rule 1: Stay under the scanners.
Rule 2: Never open the cargo.
Rule 3: Rumors can lead to profit.
Rule 4: Money is both the means and the end.
Rule 5: Always deliver.
...Rule 6: Don't make Extraxi mad.
i bet Extraxi crashes your ship into the sun in the next episode
Nah, he'll probably serve some very bad tea and biscuits *snicker*
Very good storyline, keep it up. Now to get back to my storyline...
Very good storyline, keep it up. Now to get back to my storyline...
well, i bet that maud cant outrun Jolly
Nice second chapter!
mmmooOOorRe PlleeaAsse...
this message will self-destruct in 3... 2...
mmmooOOorRe PlleeaAsse...
this message will self-destruct in 3... 2...
mr. bean wants more stories
<Quirc.>
<Hey, Quirc.>
<WAKE THE HELL UP KID!>
Quirc jolted upright in the bunk and was rewarded with a swift blow to the head from an unusually aggressive ceiling. He crashed back onto the mattress, grunting in pain. "Whatcha want?"
<Kyranis is awake.> The deep voice of his AI seemed to echo around him, doing nothing to help his newest headache. Quirc jolted upright again, being careful not to flatten his face any further as he stumbled groggily down the short accessway to the cargo bay. The last few months had been all but typical...
Kyranis Straxi sat in the Valkyrie, unable to focus, his hands trembling on the armrests. He looked out at the docks, the technicians giving his vessel curious looks. They knew he should have gotten clearance to disembark by now; there was no good reason for a military vessel to sit in a station all day, especially in Deneb. What they didn't know was what he had seen.
They told him it wasn't his fault.
It was a typical border patrol mission, just like the others. Go out, make sure no Serco are trying to weasel by, come back, go off duty. Kyranis had done all that, felt good about protecting his fellow citizens for another day. That sector of space had been his sole responsibility for months; his record had been exemplary, not a single pilot getting past his patrol. He was on his way back, getting ready to leave the sector.
They told him it wasn't his fault.
He activated his warp drive as the storm report came in. Large storm, route around. But he couldn't route around; everything was locked in. Warning klaxon, gyroscopic failure. Kyranis righted his ship, found the exit point, gave more power to the engines.
They told him it wasn't his fault.
He could hear the static on the comms. Only could make out the transport ID. Dismissed it as residual, kept the power routed. A Behemoth Heavy stranded ahead, maybe they could use help. Serco... here? The comms...
"We'll give you anything you want, please, let us go. We are carrying wounded to a medical center. Please don *static*"
Kyranis saw it. Saw the shots. It wasn't just merciless... the Prometheus bombers fired into the bridge. He saw the vismetal fragments, then saw the bodies... they blasted a hole in the bay... more bodies... everywhere... his weapons... frozen screams...
They told him it wasn't his fault. Said the ships could have come from any of a half dozen sectors. They told him he did a good job avenging the poor souls lost in the atrocity. No Serco escaped the storm. Good show kid, get some rest, nothing else you could have done... not his fault... no.
The Valkyrie drifted out of the dock two hours ahead of schedule - and went the wrong way.
Quirc stumbled closer to the cargo airlock, noticing an odd noise coming from the other side. Better not be that damned cruise conduit again...
Kyranis' Valkyrie floated out in the black. Oblivious to his surroundings, the young pilot stared at his hands. They said it wasn't his fault... the faces... frozen, screaming faces... lifeless, floating... bump on the vismetal, block the target. Kyranis stared at his hands, rubbing them against the flight suit, trying to clean off the dirt and blood that nobody else could see... including the marauding pirates sneaking up on his vessel. He had failed his fellow citizens, failed his comrades, failed his nation...
Quirc hit the release, the airlock opened with a quiet hiss, and the veteran smuggler-turned-officer saw... "Extraxi, I got half a notion to leave this bay." <I don't see the emergency.> "You don't have eardrums. How long has he been like this?" <Several minutes.>
Kyranis lay on the makeshift bunk stiff as a plank, medical data from liberated equipment mindlessly recording a plethora of readings as the young man's hands gripped the sides of the frame, his face frozen in the most grotesque, tortured expression Quirc had ever seen - and he was screaming like a banshee.
Kyranis sat hunched in the seat, gasping weakly. The ships had come out of nowhere and turned his engine to slag... began prying useful parts off the hull, completely ignoring the trapped pilot within. The Valkyrie was a wreck; weapon systems, the navigational computer, even the battery had been stripped. Kyranis was without life support, the lack of oxygen further clouding his sense of reality; all he could see were the frozen screams. He blacked out long before the Marauder happened upon him and managed to free him of the ship...
<It's called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.> "I call it crazy-ass Itani screamin somethin fierce in my cargo hold!" Quirc was having to shout above Kyranis' screams, could barely hear his own AI, and was awfully tempted to stun his newest passenger with a large, blunt object; he already would have if he hadn't known Kyranis personally. <Whatever you call it kid, he's gone through some tough stuff. Maybe you should wake him up.> "So he can what, go nuts on me and start gnawing at my neck?" <Wimp. I'm administering sedatives.> As if on cue, Kyranis abruptly stopped the screams and went limp. "Next time, Extraxi, the trick is to dope the crazy person BEFORE I enter the immediate area." <Better you found out now.> "True. So he ain’t nuts right now is he? Everything shiny?" Quirc heard the typical snicker. <Yes, I promise he won't eat your brains.> "Course he won't, he ain't Serco." Quirc's face didn't reflect his statement; walking cautiously up to the bunk, he was tempted to grab something to poke his friend with; instead, he merely shook his shoulder. "Hey kid, wake up."
Kyranis opened his eyes and stared confused up at Quirc. "What… where-" "We found your boat all torn apart and left in the black. We found you almost dead from not havin' any air, and now you're here in the grey instead of in Itani space where I'd expect you to be. One in a million I happened on that ship of yours. What were you doing in Pelatus?" Kyranis blinked and said nothing. "Alright, well you gonna tell me what happened to you?" At that moment, Quirc saw the first thing that ever truly bothered him. Kyranis' eyes instantly darkened, his face becoming strictly neutral. "Playin’ the silent treatment ain't gonna do you no good you know..." <Quirc, we've arrived at the outpost.> "Dock the boat and get some docs onboard. Make sure they don't go nowhere but the cargo bay." <Alright. What should I say when they discover his military status?> Quirc grabbed a scalpel and deftly cut the insignias off Kyranis' flightsuit, pocketing them. "They won't."
Quirc disembarked from his Marauder, eyeing the battered paintjob. It was one thing finding his old friend nearly dead in a disabled fighter. It was another thing having to drop out of sight for having been spotted too close to the wreck by the Itani recon flight. But having to remain off the scanners for months, with a comatose fighter pilot in his cargo bay, having to call up Baral Heia just to get the medical equipment needed, no questions asked, just to keep Kyranis alive... yet still managing to make a living by hiding the pilot in his own quarters during cargo procedures, escaping scans more than usual... it was taxing. His own associates had thought him lost in the black. He'd have to explain the gig and hope they believed him...
For once, Quirc wasn't looking forward to hitting the bar.
Rule 1: Stay under the scanners.
Rule 2: Never open the cargo.
Rule 3: Rumors can lead to profit.
Rule 4: Money is both the means and the end.
Rule 5: Always deliver… even if it means having to disappear for a while.
<Hey, Quirc.>
<WAKE THE HELL UP KID!>
Quirc jolted upright in the bunk and was rewarded with a swift blow to the head from an unusually aggressive ceiling. He crashed back onto the mattress, grunting in pain. "Whatcha want?"
<Kyranis is awake.> The deep voice of his AI seemed to echo around him, doing nothing to help his newest headache. Quirc jolted upright again, being careful not to flatten his face any further as he stumbled groggily down the short accessway to the cargo bay. The last few months had been all but typical...
Kyranis Straxi sat in the Valkyrie, unable to focus, his hands trembling on the armrests. He looked out at the docks, the technicians giving his vessel curious looks. They knew he should have gotten clearance to disembark by now; there was no good reason for a military vessel to sit in a station all day, especially in Deneb. What they didn't know was what he had seen.
They told him it wasn't his fault.
It was a typical border patrol mission, just like the others. Go out, make sure no Serco are trying to weasel by, come back, go off duty. Kyranis had done all that, felt good about protecting his fellow citizens for another day. That sector of space had been his sole responsibility for months; his record had been exemplary, not a single pilot getting past his patrol. He was on his way back, getting ready to leave the sector.
They told him it wasn't his fault.
He activated his warp drive as the storm report came in. Large storm, route around. But he couldn't route around; everything was locked in. Warning klaxon, gyroscopic failure. Kyranis righted his ship, found the exit point, gave more power to the engines.
They told him it wasn't his fault.
He could hear the static on the comms. Only could make out the transport ID. Dismissed it as residual, kept the power routed. A Behemoth Heavy stranded ahead, maybe they could use help. Serco... here? The comms...
"We'll give you anything you want, please, let us go. We are carrying wounded to a medical center. Please don *static*"
Kyranis saw it. Saw the shots. It wasn't just merciless... the Prometheus bombers fired into the bridge. He saw the vismetal fragments, then saw the bodies... they blasted a hole in the bay... more bodies... everywhere... his weapons... frozen screams...
They told him it wasn't his fault. Said the ships could have come from any of a half dozen sectors. They told him he did a good job avenging the poor souls lost in the atrocity. No Serco escaped the storm. Good show kid, get some rest, nothing else you could have done... not his fault... no.
The Valkyrie drifted out of the dock two hours ahead of schedule - and went the wrong way.
Quirc stumbled closer to the cargo airlock, noticing an odd noise coming from the other side. Better not be that damned cruise conduit again...
Kyranis' Valkyrie floated out in the black. Oblivious to his surroundings, the young pilot stared at his hands. They said it wasn't his fault... the faces... frozen, screaming faces... lifeless, floating... bump on the vismetal, block the target. Kyranis stared at his hands, rubbing them against the flight suit, trying to clean off the dirt and blood that nobody else could see... including the marauding pirates sneaking up on his vessel. He had failed his fellow citizens, failed his comrades, failed his nation...
Quirc hit the release, the airlock opened with a quiet hiss, and the veteran smuggler-turned-officer saw... "Extraxi, I got half a notion to leave this bay." <I don't see the emergency.> "You don't have eardrums. How long has he been like this?" <Several minutes.>
Kyranis lay on the makeshift bunk stiff as a plank, medical data from liberated equipment mindlessly recording a plethora of readings as the young man's hands gripped the sides of the frame, his face frozen in the most grotesque, tortured expression Quirc had ever seen - and he was screaming like a banshee.
Kyranis sat hunched in the seat, gasping weakly. The ships had come out of nowhere and turned his engine to slag... began prying useful parts off the hull, completely ignoring the trapped pilot within. The Valkyrie was a wreck; weapon systems, the navigational computer, even the battery had been stripped. Kyranis was without life support, the lack of oxygen further clouding his sense of reality; all he could see were the frozen screams. He blacked out long before the Marauder happened upon him and managed to free him of the ship...
<It's called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.> "I call it crazy-ass Itani screamin somethin fierce in my cargo hold!" Quirc was having to shout above Kyranis' screams, could barely hear his own AI, and was awfully tempted to stun his newest passenger with a large, blunt object; he already would have if he hadn't known Kyranis personally. <Whatever you call it kid, he's gone through some tough stuff. Maybe you should wake him up.> "So he can what, go nuts on me and start gnawing at my neck?" <Wimp. I'm administering sedatives.> As if on cue, Kyranis abruptly stopped the screams and went limp. "Next time, Extraxi, the trick is to dope the crazy person BEFORE I enter the immediate area." <Better you found out now.> "True. So he ain’t nuts right now is he? Everything shiny?" Quirc heard the typical snicker. <Yes, I promise he won't eat your brains.> "Course he won't, he ain't Serco." Quirc's face didn't reflect his statement; walking cautiously up to the bunk, he was tempted to grab something to poke his friend with; instead, he merely shook his shoulder. "Hey kid, wake up."
Kyranis opened his eyes and stared confused up at Quirc. "What… where-" "We found your boat all torn apart and left in the black. We found you almost dead from not havin' any air, and now you're here in the grey instead of in Itani space where I'd expect you to be. One in a million I happened on that ship of yours. What were you doing in Pelatus?" Kyranis blinked and said nothing. "Alright, well you gonna tell me what happened to you?" At that moment, Quirc saw the first thing that ever truly bothered him. Kyranis' eyes instantly darkened, his face becoming strictly neutral. "Playin’ the silent treatment ain't gonna do you no good you know..." <Quirc, we've arrived at the outpost.> "Dock the boat and get some docs onboard. Make sure they don't go nowhere but the cargo bay." <Alright. What should I say when they discover his military status?> Quirc grabbed a scalpel and deftly cut the insignias off Kyranis' flightsuit, pocketing them. "They won't."
Quirc disembarked from his Marauder, eyeing the battered paintjob. It was one thing finding his old friend nearly dead in a disabled fighter. It was another thing having to drop out of sight for having been spotted too close to the wreck by the Itani recon flight. But having to remain off the scanners for months, with a comatose fighter pilot in his cargo bay, having to call up Baral Heia just to get the medical equipment needed, no questions asked, just to keep Kyranis alive... yet still managing to make a living by hiding the pilot in his own quarters during cargo procedures, escaping scans more than usual... it was taxing. His own associates had thought him lost in the black. He'd have to explain the gig and hope they believed him...
For once, Quirc wasn't looking forward to hitting the bar.
Rule 1: Stay under the scanners.
Rule 2: Never open the cargo.
Rule 3: Rumors can lead to profit.
Rule 4: Money is both the means and the end.
Rule 5: Always deliver… even if it means having to disappear for a while.
bravo! good story.
i would have enjoyed it more if i wasnt as mad as ive ever been in my life but at least it made me calm down a bit.
i would have enjoyed it more if i wasnt as mad as ive ever been in my life but at least it made me calm down a bit.
Sorry for not writing in some time, uni pretty much consumed my life. Trying to make a comeback to the game now :)
Kyranis Straxi trembled violently in the hospital bed, his hands gripping the plasteel safety rails. The Corvus medical team, many of which were UIT freelancers with a degree, watched behind a thankfully soundproof window. The apparent doctor in charge walked in and noted no change in the Itani's behavior.
"Any personal information on the patient yet?" A technician shook his head. "None, doctor. Nothing on the patient when he was brought to dock, and I'm still trying to access the DNA databases on Itan." "Well, keep trying. we can't help this man if we don't know what he's gone through... have we figured any of that out?" "The ship AI was right, it's definitely PTSD; what catalyzed it, we don't know. A lot of these cases are seen from the Serco-Itani border conflict, but not so much out in greyspace since-" "Yeah, since they rarely make it home to be treated."
He activated his warp drive as the storm report came in. Large storm, route around. But he couldn't route around; everything was locked in. Warning klaxon, gyroscopic failure. Kyranis righted his ship, found the exit point, gave more power to the engines. Bombers, bodies, screams... the screams...
The doctor turned to look through the vismetal at his newest patient. "Well, he's definitely Itani, and probably a national. He'd have more scars if he wasn't." "I'll keep trying to sneak my way into their network, doctor. I'll let you know if I find anything." "Very well, thanks..."
Kyranis started screaming. The doctor could guess as to it's volume; the nurse in the room didn't seem to be enjoying the decibel levels at all. Just as the unfortunate individual began to vacate the ward, the screaming abruptly stopped, the Itani's face frozen in terror... and the doctor jumped as the commset on the wall broke into static.
<*static* They can't get me! NOBODY can get me! The screams... the frozen screams! They can't find me, I'm smarter than them...>
"What in the name of the black is THAT?" The doctor moved to grab the commset and reply, but it didn't seem to be functional.
<AAAAAAGGGAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHH!! *static* No, NO! STAY AWAY FROM M-*static*>
"Start recording the feed, quickly!" The doctor had finally recognized the problem; his patient was broadcasting his thoughts over open comms. And he wasn't about to lose such vital clues.
<The frozen.. everyone... Serco, they.. WHY! DIE YOU HORRIBLE ABOMINATI*static*>
"SON OF A B****!" "Doctor? Doctor, I got in." "Itani?" "Military, definitely a pilot, and definitely doesn't belong in Sedina." "Thought so, that's just great. Shut down all open communications on medical decks. Private and EMS only, my orders." "Yes doctor." The chilling commentary over the comms fizzled out. "Right, has he said anything else that we know of?" "A duty nurse reported some muttering about patrol schedules, but nothing to identify. Could've been anyone, anywhere." "From now on, we record everything. EVERYTHING. If he says something sensitive..." "Yes doctor." The technician reached up to activate the proper equipment. "Right, now do we have the medical data we need from Itan?" "Yes doctor." The doctor grabbed his datapad and jotted down prescriptions for a light sedative, making sure to check against the list of Kyranis' known allergies. "Right, we'll try to calm down this fellow and get his story once he wakes up. Have security keep that ship in dock, the one that brought him in. Lets get to the bottom of this."
The security office mere decks below immediately noted loss of open channels in medical, received instructions, and sent a detachment to lock down Quirc's Marauder.
---
Quirc had barely finished replacing the access panel on the warp conduit, wiping his hands off on a rag. "Alright Extraxi, how's that feel?" <Better kid. 100%.> "Great." He stepped down from the rung welded onto the bay wall and tucked the tools into their appropriate spot. <Quirc, we have a problem.> "What? What's broken now?" <Your reputation, maybe? We've been placed in lockdown.> "WHAT?" <I don't see how my statement was confusing.> Ignoring his AI, Quirc checked his pistol with a hand as he turned to walk down the cargo ramp, only to see several intimidating men enter the bay from the far end - and look straight at him. "S***, they found out." <Excellent observation there kid. What now?> <Define lockdown.> <If I want to leave, they say no? Kid, how obvious to I have to be?.> Quirc drew his gun. "You said this thing would go automatic once I removed the threshold regulator, right?" <Yes, and I also said it would likely not react well to being used.> "That means it might work." The men, seeing the new object in Quirc's right hand, drew pistols as well - and started running. "Screw this. Extraxi, lock her up." The cargo ramp screeched and clattered out of the way as the cargo bay closed itself. <Have you lost your mind? This isn't Edras, they'll cut their way in!> "Extraxi, spare me the bulls**t. You aren't a civilian AI. Civilian AI's have the IQ of dogs. Non-civvy AIs hack things and make dramatic escapes. So can we cut to the dramatic escape and save the dialogue?" <Took you long enough...> Quirc managed to grab a bracing rail as the Marauder lurched to life.
A guard quickly grabbed his comm, yelling frantically into it as his squad ducked for cover. The docking bay had quickly slipped into chaos; the Marauder's engines had engulfed the entire area in turbulence, cargo crates flying haphazardly about the docks. The guardsman could hardly be heard over the din. "Lock the blast doors on dock seven! Lock them NOW!"
Extraxi reached out to the tertiary systems in the ship, overriding all safeties set in place. Extending it's influence through the dock's restraining routines, it felt the station computer give orders to the emergency blast doors. <Oh no you don't...>
An earsplitting screech was heard throughout the docks as the blast doors jammed in place, the massive plates at slight, yet awkward angles in their braces. <Docking authority to guard channels, blast door failure, we repeat, motor failures on blast doors. Stop that ship from leaving the docks! We've done all we can. Out.> The guardsman stared in disbelief at the commset. "Stop it with WHAT?!"
Extraxi laughed quietly to itself as it eavesdropped on the security channel. <Foolish humans can't even stop a transport... well, not my transport.> The Marauder rocketed out of the bay, nearly overloading the barrier shields keeping pressure integrity within the ruined sub-facility. Station guards attempted to intercept the escaping vessel, but only one managed to get within range to log the escape vector... <Docking authority to Guardsmen, have you logged their vector? Where did they run to?> The guard pilot stared confused at his scanners. <Docking authority, this is Guardsman... I've logged nine.>
The dockmaster noted an odd noise over sector comms that quickly faded, a unique, deep sound that sounded oddly like a chuckle... "Son of a b***h."
Extraxi checked internal scanners to verify Quirc was okay before allowing itself to recede back into the depths of it's own systems, the Marauder drifting benignly in an unmarked sector, under the scanners again.
Following the not-so-planned events in Sedina D-14, Quirc made his way to the bridge, nursing a bruised shoulder from the rough escape maneuvers Extraxi had recently performed. Thumping down into the seat, he watched Extraxi appear in his accustomed area of space above the flight controls. "Rough ride. We get away?" <Yes. Unless they feel like spending the manpower to check the ghosted escape vectors I made, and then search for residual this and that, we should be fine. I also had a bit of fun with the transmission you sent to PA Headquarters...> "Fun? what kind of fun?" Extraxi told him.
"You did WHAT?!"
Extraxi laid on his back in midair, his 'paws' kicking, laughing uproariously. <I tweaked your comm to make you sound like a whiny UIT preteen.> "I hate you." <Oh come on-> "You suck at life." Extraxi grinned and turned his projected head to look at Quirc. <You do know I'm not technically alive, right?> "True. Fine, so what did he say then?" <He wants Kyranis, and he wants everything about Kyranis. He seemed quite blunt. He also says you owe him for the Pelatus "party" you threw.> "Shit, does he think I bought those pants?" <Likely. It's also probable he knows you made the withdrawal of 500,000 credits.> "Ah." <Yes. You do realize we cannot exactly redock at D-14 with a smile and a wave?> "Yeah, I sorta concluded that after you tore up the entire bay with the engines alone, scratching my paint job in the process." <You're welcome.> Quirc sighed and sat back in the seat, staring out at the empty space around him. Kyranis was back there, in that station… if they discovered he was Itani military, it certainly meant nothing good for either of them. Why didn’t he stay under the scanners… “Extraxi… if they discovered his identity, how long would it take for the nations to discover him as well?” <I don’t believe it would take them long at all, assuming they haven’t discovered him already. Corvus security routines are horribly outdated in comparison to modernized military software.> “Yeah, I guess we found that out.” Quirc fidgeted meaninglessly with the flight controls. Extraxi was right, he couldn’t redock there for the near future without seeing a brig for the rest of his life. His boss wanted his friend in PA custody, for what reason he had no idea… he could only conclude it was for the money. Everything in PA was for the money. The Serco would want him for his secrets. The Itani would want him for those same secrets, and possibly a court-martial… for a few minutes, the smuggler could do nothing but stare silently out at space. You ran because you had to… but you abandoned your closest friend… but you didn’t have a choice. Quirc shook his head.
"So.. just where do you come from? I've been flying with you almost my entire career, and it seems like you've been hiding some serious info that I deserved to know." Extraxi snorted. <Kid, you don't deserve to know anything, but I like you, so listen up.>
<I'm not a civilian program. My original intent was as a sentient interface for a TPG Teradon. It was a program TPG had taken part in along with BioCom and Xang Xi. All other information is confidential...>
Quirc made a move to turn off the main power. <I'm joking, kid.>
<Anyway, what they wanted to do is create the first artificial, truly sentient intelligence. Something to help the crew during periods of high stress, such as combat maneuvers and strategic warfare. I was meant to automatically take over in the event that parts of a crew were incapacitated.>
"So wait... if the entire crew died on a capital ship, you could fly it yourself?" <Yes. Now stop interrupting me.> Quirc imagined a torn, enflamed ship fighting on it's own. Damn.
<In addition, Xang Xi had developed infiltration software that could automatically enter foreign mainframes and routines that otherwise would be inaccessible. The deal they had with TPG, who led the project, was free incorporation of the software; in return, they would be given a share of proceeds from the finished program.>
Extraxi's projection turned to lay on it's stomach, as if growing uncomfortable remaining in one position.
<BioCom, of course, was required to make a contribution as well. TPG had no idea how to develop a true intelligence; current AI routines had only gone so far, because all code had limitations. BioCom came to them with a rather unorthodox solution: use a copy of a human mind.>
Quirc leaned forward in his seat again. "Download a human brain? Is that even possible? Is that even ethical? I thought TPG was..." <An honorable, ethical corporation? They are. At first, they denied BioCom. That is, until a volunteer stepped up to be the host mind. Your grandfather Aziren.> Quirc blinked.
<At the time, TPG programmers were admittedly stumped. They couldn't enable the program to awaken and 'live' by itself; at some point, a routine needed human input. BioCom continued to offer their services, and when TPG had no avenue left, they requested a volunteer to be the host mind. Your grandfather, a Behemoth Heavy transport pilot, accepted. He was taken to a BioCom research facility for the procedure.>
The projection stood and scratched itself. Quirc knew it was showing off.
<What BioCom didn't tell TPG was that the procedure had never been performed. The technology had not been thoroughly evaluated, and the test data sent to TPG had been falsified. I am unaware of the methods or technology used in the procedure, apart from heavy Serco influence in its development. I can conclude with some degree of certainty that, had this project been completed, it is likely the Serco would have gotten their hands on versions of the finished product before it was released to all factions. However, things obviously did not go strictly to plan.>
<Your grandfather was perfectly fine after the procedure. He was sent back to TPG headquarters in Dau with a hefty credit account and a month leave. As for BioCom, they were celebrating having copied the first human mind. Something for both history and pocket books. But upon examining the new code in detail, they discovered that none of your grandfather's memories had transferred over apart from his personality. The code could function as a sentient being, but mimicked an individual with extreme amnesia. Regardless, they sent a courier with the new program back to TPG. Upon arrival, TPG was informed of the defects in the program, and agreed to develop various flight and combat routines to add "memories" to the software. Other routines, including additional social constructs and Xang Xi's software were also written in. Your grandfather, upon returning to duty, was conscripted into the program as well; TPG programmers ran everything by him, as it was only ethical to do so. After all, they were technically adding to a copy of his mind.>
<Several months from projected completion, TPG learned that Serco officials had struck a covert arrangement with BioCom; BioCom would be recieving exorbitant amounts of credits in return for copies of the software before it was released. TPG immediately canceled the program and, deeming it too dangerous to be handled by any human being, ordered all evidence and prototypes be destroyed.>
<For the most part, these orders were followed to the letter. All research and data, including most everything developed by Xang Xi and Biocom, was obliterated. BioCom refused the order, but unnamed espionage agents within the company managed to destroy most of their research pertaining to the project. The surviving research was refined and sold to the Serco government as a new method of remote mind control.>
<The most recent prototype TPG had developed at this point was fully functional, and had incorporated the technological advances from all three corporations. Your grandfather, upon learning of the TPG orders, could not bear the thought of the prototype being destroyed; he had developed intense emotional attachment to it, considering it his 'brother'. Using most of his accumulated wealth, he funded a mercenary raid on the TPG research complex to capture the prototype. The raid was successful, and Aziren managed to escape to Edras with the prototype intact. As you've no doubt concluded by now, that prototype is me.>
<As of now, I've been unable to detect any flaws in my routines. Aziren told me that TPG intended to market me as the first version. He connected me to the UIT mainframe in Edras, and allowed me to collect any and all information I wished. Of course, he didn't intend me to also take a look into Serco and Itani networks, but what he never knew didn't hurt him. I know everything there is to know about illegal access methods, flight routines... really anything you can think of. I'm not omnipotent, mind you... I cannot repair myself nor repair this vessel, and don't count on me measuring up to any competent, focused military AI. They do exist now, though none have yet claimed true, independent sentience yet. Not even the Serco ones.>
A few seconds of silence reigned supreme on the bridge before Quirc spoke up.
"Does what I'm wearing make me look fat?"
<No, merely outworldish and unsophisticated.>
"Good."
"Any personal information on the patient yet?" A technician shook his head. "None, doctor. Nothing on the patient when he was brought to dock, and I'm still trying to access the DNA databases on Itan." "Well, keep trying. we can't help this man if we don't know what he's gone through... have we figured any of that out?" "The ship AI was right, it's definitely PTSD; what catalyzed it, we don't know. A lot of these cases are seen from the Serco-Itani border conflict, but not so much out in greyspace since-" "Yeah, since they rarely make it home to be treated."
He activated his warp drive as the storm report came in. Large storm, route around. But he couldn't route around; everything was locked in. Warning klaxon, gyroscopic failure. Kyranis righted his ship, found the exit point, gave more power to the engines. Bombers, bodies, screams... the screams...
The doctor turned to look through the vismetal at his newest patient. "Well, he's definitely Itani, and probably a national. He'd have more scars if he wasn't." "I'll keep trying to sneak my way into their network, doctor. I'll let you know if I find anything." "Very well, thanks..."
Kyranis started screaming. The doctor could guess as to it's volume; the nurse in the room didn't seem to be enjoying the decibel levels at all. Just as the unfortunate individual began to vacate the ward, the screaming abruptly stopped, the Itani's face frozen in terror... and the doctor jumped as the commset on the wall broke into static.
<*static* They can't get me! NOBODY can get me! The screams... the frozen screams! They can't find me, I'm smarter than them...>
"What in the name of the black is THAT?" The doctor moved to grab the commset and reply, but it didn't seem to be functional.
<AAAAAAGGGAAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHH!! *static* No, NO! STAY AWAY FROM M-*static*>
"Start recording the feed, quickly!" The doctor had finally recognized the problem; his patient was broadcasting his thoughts over open comms. And he wasn't about to lose such vital clues.
<The frozen.. everyone... Serco, they.. WHY! DIE YOU HORRIBLE ABOMINATI*static*>
"SON OF A B****!" "Doctor? Doctor, I got in." "Itani?" "Military, definitely a pilot, and definitely doesn't belong in Sedina." "Thought so, that's just great. Shut down all open communications on medical decks. Private and EMS only, my orders." "Yes doctor." The chilling commentary over the comms fizzled out. "Right, has he said anything else that we know of?" "A duty nurse reported some muttering about patrol schedules, but nothing to identify. Could've been anyone, anywhere." "From now on, we record everything. EVERYTHING. If he says something sensitive..." "Yes doctor." The technician reached up to activate the proper equipment. "Right, now do we have the medical data we need from Itan?" "Yes doctor." The doctor grabbed his datapad and jotted down prescriptions for a light sedative, making sure to check against the list of Kyranis' known allergies. "Right, we'll try to calm down this fellow and get his story once he wakes up. Have security keep that ship in dock, the one that brought him in. Lets get to the bottom of this."
The security office mere decks below immediately noted loss of open channels in medical, received instructions, and sent a detachment to lock down Quirc's Marauder.
---
Quirc had barely finished replacing the access panel on the warp conduit, wiping his hands off on a rag. "Alright Extraxi, how's that feel?" <Better kid. 100%.> "Great." He stepped down from the rung welded onto the bay wall and tucked the tools into their appropriate spot. <Quirc, we have a problem.> "What? What's broken now?" <Your reputation, maybe? We've been placed in lockdown.> "WHAT?" <I don't see how my statement was confusing.> Ignoring his AI, Quirc checked his pistol with a hand as he turned to walk down the cargo ramp, only to see several intimidating men enter the bay from the far end - and look straight at him. "S***, they found out." <Excellent observation there kid. What now?> <Define lockdown.> <If I want to leave, they say no? Kid, how obvious to I have to be?.> Quirc drew his gun. "You said this thing would go automatic once I removed the threshold regulator, right?" <Yes, and I also said it would likely not react well to being used.> "That means it might work." The men, seeing the new object in Quirc's right hand, drew pistols as well - and started running. "Screw this. Extraxi, lock her up." The cargo ramp screeched and clattered out of the way as the cargo bay closed itself. <Have you lost your mind? This isn't Edras, they'll cut their way in!> "Extraxi, spare me the bulls**t. You aren't a civilian AI. Civilian AI's have the IQ of dogs. Non-civvy AIs hack things and make dramatic escapes. So can we cut to the dramatic escape and save the dialogue?" <Took you long enough...> Quirc managed to grab a bracing rail as the Marauder lurched to life.
A guard quickly grabbed his comm, yelling frantically into it as his squad ducked for cover. The docking bay had quickly slipped into chaos; the Marauder's engines had engulfed the entire area in turbulence, cargo crates flying haphazardly about the docks. The guardsman could hardly be heard over the din. "Lock the blast doors on dock seven! Lock them NOW!"
Extraxi reached out to the tertiary systems in the ship, overriding all safeties set in place. Extending it's influence through the dock's restraining routines, it felt the station computer give orders to the emergency blast doors. <Oh no you don't...>
An earsplitting screech was heard throughout the docks as the blast doors jammed in place, the massive plates at slight, yet awkward angles in their braces. <Docking authority to guard channels, blast door failure, we repeat, motor failures on blast doors. Stop that ship from leaving the docks! We've done all we can. Out.> The guardsman stared in disbelief at the commset. "Stop it with WHAT?!"
Extraxi laughed quietly to itself as it eavesdropped on the security channel. <Foolish humans can't even stop a transport... well, not my transport.> The Marauder rocketed out of the bay, nearly overloading the barrier shields keeping pressure integrity within the ruined sub-facility. Station guards attempted to intercept the escaping vessel, but only one managed to get within range to log the escape vector... <Docking authority to Guardsmen, have you logged their vector? Where did they run to?> The guard pilot stared confused at his scanners. <Docking authority, this is Guardsman... I've logged nine.>
The dockmaster noted an odd noise over sector comms that quickly faded, a unique, deep sound that sounded oddly like a chuckle... "Son of a b***h."
Extraxi checked internal scanners to verify Quirc was okay before allowing itself to recede back into the depths of it's own systems, the Marauder drifting benignly in an unmarked sector, under the scanners again.
Following the not-so-planned events in Sedina D-14, Quirc made his way to the bridge, nursing a bruised shoulder from the rough escape maneuvers Extraxi had recently performed. Thumping down into the seat, he watched Extraxi appear in his accustomed area of space above the flight controls. "Rough ride. We get away?" <Yes. Unless they feel like spending the manpower to check the ghosted escape vectors I made, and then search for residual this and that, we should be fine. I also had a bit of fun with the transmission you sent to PA Headquarters...> "Fun? what kind of fun?" Extraxi told him.
"You did WHAT?!"
Extraxi laid on his back in midair, his 'paws' kicking, laughing uproariously. <I tweaked your comm to make you sound like a whiny UIT preteen.> "I hate you." <Oh come on-> "You suck at life." Extraxi grinned and turned his projected head to look at Quirc. <You do know I'm not technically alive, right?> "True. Fine, so what did he say then?" <He wants Kyranis, and he wants everything about Kyranis. He seemed quite blunt. He also says you owe him for the Pelatus "party" you threw.> "Shit, does he think I bought those pants?" <Likely. It's also probable he knows you made the withdrawal of 500,000 credits.> "Ah." <Yes. You do realize we cannot exactly redock at D-14 with a smile and a wave?> "Yeah, I sorta concluded that after you tore up the entire bay with the engines alone, scratching my paint job in the process." <You're welcome.> Quirc sighed and sat back in the seat, staring out at the empty space around him. Kyranis was back there, in that station… if they discovered he was Itani military, it certainly meant nothing good for either of them. Why didn’t he stay under the scanners… “Extraxi… if they discovered his identity, how long would it take for the nations to discover him as well?” <I don’t believe it would take them long at all, assuming they haven’t discovered him already. Corvus security routines are horribly outdated in comparison to modernized military software.> “Yeah, I guess we found that out.” Quirc fidgeted meaninglessly with the flight controls. Extraxi was right, he couldn’t redock there for the near future without seeing a brig for the rest of his life. His boss wanted his friend in PA custody, for what reason he had no idea… he could only conclude it was for the money. Everything in PA was for the money. The Serco would want him for his secrets. The Itani would want him for those same secrets, and possibly a court-martial… for a few minutes, the smuggler could do nothing but stare silently out at space. You ran because you had to… but you abandoned your closest friend… but you didn’t have a choice. Quirc shook his head.
"So.. just where do you come from? I've been flying with you almost my entire career, and it seems like you've been hiding some serious info that I deserved to know." Extraxi snorted. <Kid, you don't deserve to know anything, but I like you, so listen up.>
<I'm not a civilian program. My original intent was as a sentient interface for a TPG Teradon. It was a program TPG had taken part in along with BioCom and Xang Xi. All other information is confidential...>
Quirc made a move to turn off the main power. <I'm joking, kid.>
<Anyway, what they wanted to do is create the first artificial, truly sentient intelligence. Something to help the crew during periods of high stress, such as combat maneuvers and strategic warfare. I was meant to automatically take over in the event that parts of a crew were incapacitated.>
"So wait... if the entire crew died on a capital ship, you could fly it yourself?" <Yes. Now stop interrupting me.> Quirc imagined a torn, enflamed ship fighting on it's own. Damn.
<In addition, Xang Xi had developed infiltration software that could automatically enter foreign mainframes and routines that otherwise would be inaccessible. The deal they had with TPG, who led the project, was free incorporation of the software; in return, they would be given a share of proceeds from the finished program.>
Extraxi's projection turned to lay on it's stomach, as if growing uncomfortable remaining in one position.
<BioCom, of course, was required to make a contribution as well. TPG had no idea how to develop a true intelligence; current AI routines had only gone so far, because all code had limitations. BioCom came to them with a rather unorthodox solution: use a copy of a human mind.>
Quirc leaned forward in his seat again. "Download a human brain? Is that even possible? Is that even ethical? I thought TPG was..." <An honorable, ethical corporation? They are. At first, they denied BioCom. That is, until a volunteer stepped up to be the host mind. Your grandfather Aziren.> Quirc blinked.
<At the time, TPG programmers were admittedly stumped. They couldn't enable the program to awaken and 'live' by itself; at some point, a routine needed human input. BioCom continued to offer their services, and when TPG had no avenue left, they requested a volunteer to be the host mind. Your grandfather, a Behemoth Heavy transport pilot, accepted. He was taken to a BioCom research facility for the procedure.>
The projection stood and scratched itself. Quirc knew it was showing off.
<What BioCom didn't tell TPG was that the procedure had never been performed. The technology had not been thoroughly evaluated, and the test data sent to TPG had been falsified. I am unaware of the methods or technology used in the procedure, apart from heavy Serco influence in its development. I can conclude with some degree of certainty that, had this project been completed, it is likely the Serco would have gotten their hands on versions of the finished product before it was released to all factions. However, things obviously did not go strictly to plan.>
<Your grandfather was perfectly fine after the procedure. He was sent back to TPG headquarters in Dau with a hefty credit account and a month leave. As for BioCom, they were celebrating having copied the first human mind. Something for both history and pocket books. But upon examining the new code in detail, they discovered that none of your grandfather's memories had transferred over apart from his personality. The code could function as a sentient being, but mimicked an individual with extreme amnesia. Regardless, they sent a courier with the new program back to TPG. Upon arrival, TPG was informed of the defects in the program, and agreed to develop various flight and combat routines to add "memories" to the software. Other routines, including additional social constructs and Xang Xi's software were also written in. Your grandfather, upon returning to duty, was conscripted into the program as well; TPG programmers ran everything by him, as it was only ethical to do so. After all, they were technically adding to a copy of his mind.>
<Several months from projected completion, TPG learned that Serco officials had struck a covert arrangement with BioCom; BioCom would be recieving exorbitant amounts of credits in return for copies of the software before it was released. TPG immediately canceled the program and, deeming it too dangerous to be handled by any human being, ordered all evidence and prototypes be destroyed.>
<For the most part, these orders were followed to the letter. All research and data, including most everything developed by Xang Xi and Biocom, was obliterated. BioCom refused the order, but unnamed espionage agents within the company managed to destroy most of their research pertaining to the project. The surviving research was refined and sold to the Serco government as a new method of remote mind control.>
<The most recent prototype TPG had developed at this point was fully functional, and had incorporated the technological advances from all three corporations. Your grandfather, upon learning of the TPG orders, could not bear the thought of the prototype being destroyed; he had developed intense emotional attachment to it, considering it his 'brother'. Using most of his accumulated wealth, he funded a mercenary raid on the TPG research complex to capture the prototype. The raid was successful, and Aziren managed to escape to Edras with the prototype intact. As you've no doubt concluded by now, that prototype is me.>
<As of now, I've been unable to detect any flaws in my routines. Aziren told me that TPG intended to market me as the first version. He connected me to the UIT mainframe in Edras, and allowed me to collect any and all information I wished. Of course, he didn't intend me to also take a look into Serco and Itani networks, but what he never knew didn't hurt him. I know everything there is to know about illegal access methods, flight routines... really anything you can think of. I'm not omnipotent, mind you... I cannot repair myself nor repair this vessel, and don't count on me measuring up to any competent, focused military AI. They do exist now, though none have yet claimed true, independent sentience yet. Not even the Serco ones.>
A few seconds of silence reigned supreme on the bridge before Quirc spoke up.
"Does what I'm wearing make me look fat?"
<No, merely outworldish and unsophisticated.>
"Good."
So, it's been quite some time since I wrote another installment. So much time that, when I do, it won't reflect the rl time that's actually passed. It'll reflect things that will have perhaps already happened.
I've had somewhat of a rough time in RL since the last time I wrote, but something is coming Soon (tm). So, those of you that have been hounding me, you win! Just give me a bit of time :)
-Q
EDIT 11/28/07: Okay, maybe it will reflect it. I'm weird... stay tuned (this means you Bean, you bugger :P)
I've had somewhat of a rough time in RL since the last time I wrote, but something is coming Soon (tm). So, those of you that have been hounding me, you win! Just give me a bit of time :)
-Q
EDIT 11/28/07: Okay, maybe it will reflect it. I'm weird... stay tuned (this means you Bean, you bugger :P)
Okay, some quick things to say, as I'm still in the middle of writing.
I've fixed a couple things on my story thread here. Firstly, it seems I was using incorrect quotation for Extraxi in the earlier chapters. Did what I could to fix that.
Secondly, although I endeavored to include some things previously dedicated to a (failed) RP thread, there was a HUGE narrative hole in between Quirc dropping off his buddy and him making his escape. Not nice to anyone that never saw that RP, which was never finished anyway! I've included everything that happened in between now, so enjoy.
More to come, stay tuned. There's a lot more to this story before it (sorta) ends, so don't expect it all at once. I can only put so many words down before I gotta sleep.
I've fixed a couple things on my story thread here. Firstly, it seems I was using incorrect quotation for Extraxi in the earlier chapters. Did what I could to fix that.
Secondly, although I endeavored to include some things previously dedicated to a (failed) RP thread, there was a HUGE narrative hole in between Quirc dropping off his buddy and him making his escape. Not nice to anyone that never saw that RP, which was never finished anyway! I've included everything that happened in between now, so enjoy.
More to come, stay tuned. There's a lot more to this story before it (sorta) ends, so don't expect it all at once. I can only put so many words down before I gotta sleep.
Quirc guided his Marauder into the docking bay. As he entered the pressurized hangar, he noticed how incredibly... quiet things were.
The Jallik border sector had been one thing, the raucous station having been tugged through to Itani space in some day past. Even now, that station was as noisy as ever; from the UIT traders haggling for something or other all around the bays, to harried attendants darting about in anything but a set order.
Itan was different. As the ship slowly came to a halt, Quirc couldn’t even hear the locks engaging. The clamorous white noise of people couldn’t be heard through the vismetal, and if it weren’t for the constant sound of ships arriving and departing he would probably be going insane… <Quirc, he has sent word that he’ll meet you in his quarters.> “Yeah, okay… we’re actually docked, right?” <Yes.> “You’re sure?” Extraxi made some odd gesture that Quirc supposed was some kind of dismissive preening… thing. <Yes, the locks are engaged and the ship isn’t going anywhere. Can we leave now?> “We?” <Of course. It’s an Itani station! I want to try out those emitters they always have installed.> “Yeah, sure, not like you’re a big secret anymore anyway.” <I didn’t realize you had to agree first.> A smirk. “You know, for a bunch of circuits you can be surprisingly personable.” <I aim to please.>
Eleven months earlier…
“You know, for a bunch of circuits you can be incredibly impulsive!” The ship jumped violently as Extraxi skidded the vessel through an asteroid cluster, spinning the craft around and firing the Sparrows at the Vulture in pursuit. <At least I can fight worth a damn.> The ship exploded. “Hey, I did fine the last time.” <Kid, if by ‘fine’ you mean ‘only half the engines stopped working’ then I won’t aim to argue.> It had been a rough few weeks following Quirc’s escape, and unfortunately Extraxi’s sarcasm was perfectly warranted. The smuggler and his Marauder had been constantly hunted by Corvus mercenaries, as far out as Helios and Pelatus… and everywhere in between. So much for an excellent standing.
“So, how are we doing on supplies?” <Not too great. After making the engine repairs we’re fresh out of spares in most everything, and provisions for you are down to about another week if we’re careful.> “Great. Is –“ <Is Kyranis okay still? Yes. Before that interceptor so rudely interrupted our conversation, I was going to show you some communications from that station that have been quite troublesome. I’ll upload them to the datapad.> “Yeah, alright.” It didn’t take long.
“Oh… well shit.” <Yes.> “How long ago?” <At least 48 hours. We’re too far from Sedina for me to get information quickly.> “Have they gotten there?” <Unknown. Depending on how badly SkyCommand wants him, it could have already happened.> Quirc sat back hard in the chair. “Do we know where they want to take him?” <No, that was not discussed in any intercepted transmissions.> “Of course not, damned toasters are paranoid enough to make Corvus stations look like retirement homes.” <It’s likely that any additional information was discussed in person between Corvus and the Serco, kid. Unless we could talk to the men that made the arrangement, the only other way is to obtain flight records, and I can’t do that unless we’re docked.> “And if they see us, the blast doors go up.” <And the interceptors go out.> “Yeah… set course to Bractus.” <What’s there?> “Nothing on the other side.”
The transport entered with a blinding flash into the wormhole sector, and Quirc closed his eyes, tying himself back into his ship. Okay. – Kid, what are you looking for? – We picked him up off his fighter, but left the hulk. – A hulk is all it will be. – Not for long…
Quirc strained his sensors and found the trashed Valkyrie lodged in a large asteroid, some of the surfaces still miraculously gleaming. It was a wonder the scavengers never bothered… Quirc set himself down in an adjacent crater before allowing his mind to retreat back into the confines of his body. “I’ll need an engine and some vismetal.” <You’re insane, you know that?> “Yup.”
---
“Okay, how does it look?” <Like a Valkyrie. An Itani military one. With an Itani IFF. And an Itani weapons array.> “So a ship they’ll let dock without troubles.” <Probably. And one they’ll be very curious about.> “They’ll let it dock.” <Yeah, and what happens after they detect your hacking into the network? It’ll be a lockdown again, and I won’t be able to get you out of that one if I’m stuck on OUR ship.> “Hey, you know me.” <Exactly.> The Valkyrie shuddered reluctantly to life next to the Marauder, the retrofitted transporter engine idling unnaturally smoothly inside the fighter’s housing. <May I remind you once again how crazy this is?> “Feel free.” <You’re nuts.> “A complement as always. Just meet me at A-8 and we’ll go from there.” <No problem.> The two ships parted ways.
---
<Itani vessel, you are cleared to dock, bay two. A Corvus representative will be with you shortly.> Quirc stayed quiet on the comms. It wasn’t difficult sending a visual transmission to Sedina Hold, claiming electrical problems; the mismatched engine signature and silent audio would provide sufficient persuasion. As always, they’d have a representative awaiting him to discuss repair fees. They’d probably want to discuss the arrogant Itani national that so candidly wanted to dock at their station for such basic repairs…
Quirc edged the battered Valkyrie into the docking clamps before retreating his mind again and taking a last quick look at the cockpit. The fighter had proven difficult to pilot; unlike his Marauder, the pilot’s seat was nothing but a simple synthetic composite, forcing him to use pure mental will to pilot his craft. Easy for a native Itani, but not for him.
Quirc ducked quickly into the cramped cargo bay that doubled as a cockpit accessway and opened the sole crate he brought onboard, pulling the pieces out and fitting them together as fast as possible. As soon as he finished, he set the Automated Defense System on it’s tripod facing the ramp before pulling out his newest project.
The UIT had a long history as tinkerers, and by no means did Quirc put his ancestors to shame. The crude (and cheap) rifle he held in his hands was a testament to ingenuity in a harsh and sparse territory. Loading the magazine in, he hit the coil primer and was rewarded with a subtle electric whirr as the capacitors charged. The ramp lowered.
The Corvus representative heard the ramp locks deactivate and absently brushed a speck of dust off his impeccable vest, clearing his voice. “Welcome to Sedi…” The barrel went to his face. “…na. What is this? You aren’t Itani!” Quirc gestured with the rifle. “In front of me, we’re playin fatcat today. No sudden moves.” The man turned a shade whiter and clasped his hands behind his back.
Quirc concentrated hard, struggling to keep his eyes open and focused as he lifted the ADS, tripod and all, to the bottom of the ramp. The tripod came to an awkward, clattering rest on the ground as his mind folded from the effort, and he reached out and hit the activation button on the unit. Another satisfying noise as the barrels synchronized with the firing computer. “We’re taking a walk. Keep things civil and we’re shiny, got it?” The rep gave a jerking nod as they walked out of the dock and into the myriad passageways.
Present
The docking ramp lowered and Quirc walked with a light jaunt down it, a floating Extraxi close behind. The dock technician, strangely alone, gave him a friendly smile. “Welcome to Itan, Captain Taranis. A safe flight?” “Yeah, nice and uneventful. I’m here to see the commander.” “Of course, he authorized your priority clearance to land. I’ve uploaded directions to your AI here.” The tech gave a friendly gesture to Extraxi, who smiled back. “Not many are so lucky to have such an advanced being along for the ride, Captain.” “Yeah, I never hear enough of it.” The tech chuckled and went back to doing something that involved his hand and ghostly images on a dais. Quirc shook his head as the two of them walked off. One person handling all that traffic by himself…
Past
Quirc tore off the access panel and hit a complex combination of keys before throwing a mechanical switch, and the armored door’s emergency routines disengaged the hinge clamps. The resulting clanging slam to the deck came in time to a shot to the ceiling. In the resulting chaos, his hostage ran for it. Quirc ignored him, and motioned the men in the computer service room across. Sidearms slid to his feet, and he kicked them to the opposite corner before typing a quick command into the nearest terminal, locking the unfortunate techs inside. Keeping one eye on the now blasted open entryway, he started accessing the needed files.
---
<There’s no way he’s going to get out of there.> Extraxi had recently adapted an odd habit of talking audibly to itself, much to the annoyance of Quirc whenever he had gotten caught. Extraxi blatantly ignored his owner’s discomfort; after all, it's sentience was a gift. There was no need in wasting it. <He’s a smart kid, but he won’t get out of this one. There’s just no way.> The AI’s muttering echoed ominously throughout the Marauder as it drifted aimlessly at the rendezvous.
---
Just as Quirc hit the duplication routines to start the upload process to his datapad, the shouts of the station guards prompted him to dive behind the adjacent wall. The first positron bursts left blackened holes in the opposite one. “Captain Taranis! You know the drill, weapon down and hands high. Aint nowhere to go!” Quirc leaned out and answered with several well-placed shots. He saw half the guards start to go down before hastily grabbing his datapad off the counter and ducking back. Staring at the marks left by the positron bursts, he smirked knowingly. Nothing but the best for Corvus guards. He counted on it.
The squad commander swore under his breath as the rest of his squad huddled in a side room, using it and a crate outside the door as makeshift cover. He glanced out at his downed men and shook his head. The guards had the latest in personal defense, efficient synthetic armor that made initial energy discharges completely harmless from the neck down. The intruder’s coil gun had simply circumvented this; now, he had to face a problem he was completely unequipped for, or face having the rest of his personnel wiped out by cheap iron. “Eslos, you’ve got point, take us back to the barracks. I’ll cover.” He grabbed his radio and ordered a lockdown, firing a few blasts into the vacant doorway before following the remnants out.
Quirc huddled further behind the wall as the blasts streaked by, switching to another magazine before leaning out, rifle at the ready. Nothing. He stepped cautiously out, weapon at the ready, and swung himself around into the doorway where the guards had been before. Still nothing.
An eyebrow raised, he advanced to the lift and hit the button with a closed hand. Nothing. Completely unmoved, the smuggler kicked the nearest ventilation cover loose and tossed the offending object aside, casually leaning in and shooting the security box that monitored the shaft. Slinging the weapon over his back on it’s synthleather strap, he braced himself inside the vertical passage and started making his way down.
---
Extraxi had long since had enough. Ignoring the inherent flaws in his impatience, the AI powered the Marauder’s weapon systems and set a course for Sedina D-14.
---
Quirc appeared out the wall ventilation behind a series of rifle shots, making the techs in the immediate area dive for cover. As he recovered from the diving roll, the sound of automatic neutron fire echoed from behind the double cargo doors of Dock Two. The same guard detachment, at full strength and wearing ancient bulletproof vests, crouched huddled behind a pile of impenetrable carbonic ore crates. Once again, the squad leader was cursing. “Sena, what the hell is that thing getting power from? It aint stoppin’!” “Sir, the power source is shipboard, sir!” More swearing. More neutron bursts. The ADS was on a simple, preprogrammed setting; anything with a weapon is shot at. Unfortunately for the guards, this meant them. “Eonis, get those blast doors shut, all docks.”
Quirc tried to open the cargo doors to no avail; the guards had apparently locked out command functions for every door on the dock levels. Pulling out his datapad, he punched a couple quick commands and got out of the way. The ADS obediently swiveled on the magnetic mount and blasted the doors apart.
Hearing the commotion, the guard signaled his men. The shoulder mounted gauss cannon came up, and fired.
Quirc flinched as the concussion wave from the impact blew through the shattered door, but made his run anyway. Letting off a few wild shots towards the rough direction of the guards, he ran up the Valkyrie’s ramp and slammed the emergency controls. A positron burst singed part of the fabric off his coat as the panel slammed itself swiftly back in place. Running hunched to the cockpit, he sat down hard and shut his eyes tight, quickly powering up the craft. Tearing away from the clamps to the sound of screeching metal, his heart sunk as he felt his sensors register the blast doors closing. Too late.
---
The dock control had just finished sealing the docking bays when a jump flash, accompanied by a flashing red alert on his monitors, informed him of an incoming hostile vessel. The comms crackled to life, and an oddly familiar deep voice filled the room. <Hm… you fixed the doors. How expedient.> A volley of fire impacted on the ones closest to the control room, and the tech frantically reached for the release to allow the strike force out of the station.
---
Extraxi made a unique, gratified noise as the blast doors visually shuddered, and held closed. Smiling at the crude weld its fire had accomplished, it quickly switched targets.
---
Quirc grimly turned the Valkyrie towards the guards, his mind reaching frantically throughout the ship, looking for any weapons that still worked. He saw the guard lift the gauss cannon again, and fired. One positron blast vaporized the unlucky individual, and several of the crates. Then nothing. Another guard picked up the miraculously unscathed weapon. The Valkyrie got ready to ram.
*THUMP*
The entire docking bay shook, knocking the guards off their feet. Ironically, the guards’ heavy weapon deactivated upon hitting the deck.
*THUMP*
The blast doors shuddered and cracked before a third blast sent them flying inwards, narrowly missing Quirc’s salvaged fighter. Wasting no time, he gunned the engine and darted from the bay, closely following the Marauder out to A-8.
---
Quirc walked through the airlock and onto the flight deck, only to meet a very irate artificial intelligence. <You could have died, kid.> Quirc ignored it. “Set a course for Pyronis, Extraxi.” The apparition snorted. <You’re welcome.> The vessel rocketed off at maximum power.
The Jallik border sector had been one thing, the raucous station having been tugged through to Itani space in some day past. Even now, that station was as noisy as ever; from the UIT traders haggling for something or other all around the bays, to harried attendants darting about in anything but a set order.
Itan was different. As the ship slowly came to a halt, Quirc couldn’t even hear the locks engaging. The clamorous white noise of people couldn’t be heard through the vismetal, and if it weren’t for the constant sound of ships arriving and departing he would probably be going insane… <Quirc, he has sent word that he’ll meet you in his quarters.> “Yeah, okay… we’re actually docked, right?” <Yes.> “You’re sure?” Extraxi made some odd gesture that Quirc supposed was some kind of dismissive preening… thing. <Yes, the locks are engaged and the ship isn’t going anywhere. Can we leave now?> “We?” <Of course. It’s an Itani station! I want to try out those emitters they always have installed.> “Yeah, sure, not like you’re a big secret anymore anyway.” <I didn’t realize you had to agree first.> A smirk. “You know, for a bunch of circuits you can be surprisingly personable.” <I aim to please.>
Eleven months earlier…
“You know, for a bunch of circuits you can be incredibly impulsive!” The ship jumped violently as Extraxi skidded the vessel through an asteroid cluster, spinning the craft around and firing the Sparrows at the Vulture in pursuit. <At least I can fight worth a damn.> The ship exploded. “Hey, I did fine the last time.” <Kid, if by ‘fine’ you mean ‘only half the engines stopped working’ then I won’t aim to argue.> It had been a rough few weeks following Quirc’s escape, and unfortunately Extraxi’s sarcasm was perfectly warranted. The smuggler and his Marauder had been constantly hunted by Corvus mercenaries, as far out as Helios and Pelatus… and everywhere in between. So much for an excellent standing.
“So, how are we doing on supplies?” <Not too great. After making the engine repairs we’re fresh out of spares in most everything, and provisions for you are down to about another week if we’re careful.> “Great. Is –“ <Is Kyranis okay still? Yes. Before that interceptor so rudely interrupted our conversation, I was going to show you some communications from that station that have been quite troublesome. I’ll upload them to the datapad.> “Yeah, alright.” It didn’t take long.
“Oh… well shit.” <Yes.> “How long ago?” <At least 48 hours. We’re too far from Sedina for me to get information quickly.> “Have they gotten there?” <Unknown. Depending on how badly SkyCommand wants him, it could have already happened.> Quirc sat back hard in the chair. “Do we know where they want to take him?” <No, that was not discussed in any intercepted transmissions.> “Of course not, damned toasters are paranoid enough to make Corvus stations look like retirement homes.” <It’s likely that any additional information was discussed in person between Corvus and the Serco, kid. Unless we could talk to the men that made the arrangement, the only other way is to obtain flight records, and I can’t do that unless we’re docked.> “And if they see us, the blast doors go up.” <And the interceptors go out.> “Yeah… set course to Bractus.” <What’s there?> “Nothing on the other side.”
The transport entered with a blinding flash into the wormhole sector, and Quirc closed his eyes, tying himself back into his ship. Okay. – Kid, what are you looking for? – We picked him up off his fighter, but left the hulk. – A hulk is all it will be. – Not for long…
Quirc strained his sensors and found the trashed Valkyrie lodged in a large asteroid, some of the surfaces still miraculously gleaming. It was a wonder the scavengers never bothered… Quirc set himself down in an adjacent crater before allowing his mind to retreat back into the confines of his body. “I’ll need an engine and some vismetal.” <You’re insane, you know that?> “Yup.”
---
“Okay, how does it look?” <Like a Valkyrie. An Itani military one. With an Itani IFF. And an Itani weapons array.> “So a ship they’ll let dock without troubles.” <Probably. And one they’ll be very curious about.> “They’ll let it dock.” <Yeah, and what happens after they detect your hacking into the network? It’ll be a lockdown again, and I won’t be able to get you out of that one if I’m stuck on OUR ship.> “Hey, you know me.” <Exactly.> The Valkyrie shuddered reluctantly to life next to the Marauder, the retrofitted transporter engine idling unnaturally smoothly inside the fighter’s housing. <May I remind you once again how crazy this is?> “Feel free.” <You’re nuts.> “A complement as always. Just meet me at A-8 and we’ll go from there.” <No problem.> The two ships parted ways.
---
<Itani vessel, you are cleared to dock, bay two. A Corvus representative will be with you shortly.> Quirc stayed quiet on the comms. It wasn’t difficult sending a visual transmission to Sedina Hold, claiming electrical problems; the mismatched engine signature and silent audio would provide sufficient persuasion. As always, they’d have a representative awaiting him to discuss repair fees. They’d probably want to discuss the arrogant Itani national that so candidly wanted to dock at their station for such basic repairs…
Quirc edged the battered Valkyrie into the docking clamps before retreating his mind again and taking a last quick look at the cockpit. The fighter had proven difficult to pilot; unlike his Marauder, the pilot’s seat was nothing but a simple synthetic composite, forcing him to use pure mental will to pilot his craft. Easy for a native Itani, but not for him.
Quirc ducked quickly into the cramped cargo bay that doubled as a cockpit accessway and opened the sole crate he brought onboard, pulling the pieces out and fitting them together as fast as possible. As soon as he finished, he set the Automated Defense System on it’s tripod facing the ramp before pulling out his newest project.
The UIT had a long history as tinkerers, and by no means did Quirc put his ancestors to shame. The crude (and cheap) rifle he held in his hands was a testament to ingenuity in a harsh and sparse territory. Loading the magazine in, he hit the coil primer and was rewarded with a subtle electric whirr as the capacitors charged. The ramp lowered.
The Corvus representative heard the ramp locks deactivate and absently brushed a speck of dust off his impeccable vest, clearing his voice. “Welcome to Sedi…” The barrel went to his face. “…na. What is this? You aren’t Itani!” Quirc gestured with the rifle. “In front of me, we’re playin fatcat today. No sudden moves.” The man turned a shade whiter and clasped his hands behind his back.
Quirc concentrated hard, struggling to keep his eyes open and focused as he lifted the ADS, tripod and all, to the bottom of the ramp. The tripod came to an awkward, clattering rest on the ground as his mind folded from the effort, and he reached out and hit the activation button on the unit. Another satisfying noise as the barrels synchronized with the firing computer. “We’re taking a walk. Keep things civil and we’re shiny, got it?” The rep gave a jerking nod as they walked out of the dock and into the myriad passageways.
Present
The docking ramp lowered and Quirc walked with a light jaunt down it, a floating Extraxi close behind. The dock technician, strangely alone, gave him a friendly smile. “Welcome to Itan, Captain Taranis. A safe flight?” “Yeah, nice and uneventful. I’m here to see the commander.” “Of course, he authorized your priority clearance to land. I’ve uploaded directions to your AI here.” The tech gave a friendly gesture to Extraxi, who smiled back. “Not many are so lucky to have such an advanced being along for the ride, Captain.” “Yeah, I never hear enough of it.” The tech chuckled and went back to doing something that involved his hand and ghostly images on a dais. Quirc shook his head as the two of them walked off. One person handling all that traffic by himself…
Past
Quirc tore off the access panel and hit a complex combination of keys before throwing a mechanical switch, and the armored door’s emergency routines disengaged the hinge clamps. The resulting clanging slam to the deck came in time to a shot to the ceiling. In the resulting chaos, his hostage ran for it. Quirc ignored him, and motioned the men in the computer service room across. Sidearms slid to his feet, and he kicked them to the opposite corner before typing a quick command into the nearest terminal, locking the unfortunate techs inside. Keeping one eye on the now blasted open entryway, he started accessing the needed files.
---
<There’s no way he’s going to get out of there.> Extraxi had recently adapted an odd habit of talking audibly to itself, much to the annoyance of Quirc whenever he had gotten caught. Extraxi blatantly ignored his owner’s discomfort; after all, it's sentience was a gift. There was no need in wasting it. <He’s a smart kid, but he won’t get out of this one. There’s just no way.> The AI’s muttering echoed ominously throughout the Marauder as it drifted aimlessly at the rendezvous.
---
Just as Quirc hit the duplication routines to start the upload process to his datapad, the shouts of the station guards prompted him to dive behind the adjacent wall. The first positron bursts left blackened holes in the opposite one. “Captain Taranis! You know the drill, weapon down and hands high. Aint nowhere to go!” Quirc leaned out and answered with several well-placed shots. He saw half the guards start to go down before hastily grabbing his datapad off the counter and ducking back. Staring at the marks left by the positron bursts, he smirked knowingly. Nothing but the best for Corvus guards. He counted on it.
The squad commander swore under his breath as the rest of his squad huddled in a side room, using it and a crate outside the door as makeshift cover. He glanced out at his downed men and shook his head. The guards had the latest in personal defense, efficient synthetic armor that made initial energy discharges completely harmless from the neck down. The intruder’s coil gun had simply circumvented this; now, he had to face a problem he was completely unequipped for, or face having the rest of his personnel wiped out by cheap iron. “Eslos, you’ve got point, take us back to the barracks. I’ll cover.” He grabbed his radio and ordered a lockdown, firing a few blasts into the vacant doorway before following the remnants out.
Quirc huddled further behind the wall as the blasts streaked by, switching to another magazine before leaning out, rifle at the ready. Nothing. He stepped cautiously out, weapon at the ready, and swung himself around into the doorway where the guards had been before. Still nothing.
An eyebrow raised, he advanced to the lift and hit the button with a closed hand. Nothing. Completely unmoved, the smuggler kicked the nearest ventilation cover loose and tossed the offending object aside, casually leaning in and shooting the security box that monitored the shaft. Slinging the weapon over his back on it’s synthleather strap, he braced himself inside the vertical passage and started making his way down.
---
Extraxi had long since had enough. Ignoring the inherent flaws in his impatience, the AI powered the Marauder’s weapon systems and set a course for Sedina D-14.
---
Quirc appeared out the wall ventilation behind a series of rifle shots, making the techs in the immediate area dive for cover. As he recovered from the diving roll, the sound of automatic neutron fire echoed from behind the double cargo doors of Dock Two. The same guard detachment, at full strength and wearing ancient bulletproof vests, crouched huddled behind a pile of impenetrable carbonic ore crates. Once again, the squad leader was cursing. “Sena, what the hell is that thing getting power from? It aint stoppin’!” “Sir, the power source is shipboard, sir!” More swearing. More neutron bursts. The ADS was on a simple, preprogrammed setting; anything with a weapon is shot at. Unfortunately for the guards, this meant them. “Eonis, get those blast doors shut, all docks.”
Quirc tried to open the cargo doors to no avail; the guards had apparently locked out command functions for every door on the dock levels. Pulling out his datapad, he punched a couple quick commands and got out of the way. The ADS obediently swiveled on the magnetic mount and blasted the doors apart.
Hearing the commotion, the guard signaled his men. The shoulder mounted gauss cannon came up, and fired.
Quirc flinched as the concussion wave from the impact blew through the shattered door, but made his run anyway. Letting off a few wild shots towards the rough direction of the guards, he ran up the Valkyrie’s ramp and slammed the emergency controls. A positron burst singed part of the fabric off his coat as the panel slammed itself swiftly back in place. Running hunched to the cockpit, he sat down hard and shut his eyes tight, quickly powering up the craft. Tearing away from the clamps to the sound of screeching metal, his heart sunk as he felt his sensors register the blast doors closing. Too late.
---
The dock control had just finished sealing the docking bays when a jump flash, accompanied by a flashing red alert on his monitors, informed him of an incoming hostile vessel. The comms crackled to life, and an oddly familiar deep voice filled the room. <Hm… you fixed the doors. How expedient.> A volley of fire impacted on the ones closest to the control room, and the tech frantically reached for the release to allow the strike force out of the station.
---
Extraxi made a unique, gratified noise as the blast doors visually shuddered, and held closed. Smiling at the crude weld its fire had accomplished, it quickly switched targets.
---
Quirc grimly turned the Valkyrie towards the guards, his mind reaching frantically throughout the ship, looking for any weapons that still worked. He saw the guard lift the gauss cannon again, and fired. One positron blast vaporized the unlucky individual, and several of the crates. Then nothing. Another guard picked up the miraculously unscathed weapon. The Valkyrie got ready to ram.
*THUMP*
The entire docking bay shook, knocking the guards off their feet. Ironically, the guards’ heavy weapon deactivated upon hitting the deck.
*THUMP*
The blast doors shuddered and cracked before a third blast sent them flying inwards, narrowly missing Quirc’s salvaged fighter. Wasting no time, he gunned the engine and darted from the bay, closely following the Marauder out to A-8.
---
Quirc walked through the airlock and onto the flight deck, only to meet a very irate artificial intelligence. <You could have died, kid.> Quirc ignored it. “Set a course for Pyronis, Extraxi.” The apparition snorted. <You’re welcome.> The vessel rocketed off at maximum power.
bout damn time, but... I dont have enough time to read it yet, ill read it and give it a rating on saturday.
Bean your a dead man, he spent all night working on that cause you wanted an update when he could have been talking to me. Now your not gonna read it til the weekend?
*has Bean's name painted on a few sets of flares
*has Bean's name painted on a few sets of flares
I dont have the time!
Ive got all kinds of stuff going on, the only free time I have afterschool is checking the forum or listen to music for 4 mins every 2 or 3 hours. Ill read it when Ive got time!
Ive got all kinds of stuff going on, the only free time I have afterschool is checking the forum or listen to music for 4 mins every 2 or 3 hours. Ill read it when Ive got time!
XD
Mystic, need help personalizing those rockets?
I had trouble following what was going on in the new segment, but I suspect a full re-read of the entire thread will help. (Just a tad too tired and over-worked to do that right now.)
I had trouble following what was going on in the new segment, but I suspect a full re-read of the entire thread will help. (Just a tad too tired and over-worked to do that right now.)