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1. Rehabilitation
"....And so I believe we are finished for today, hmm?"
Hortan looked up at the elder man sitting next to him. He was clad in a tweed jacket, white shirt and tie discreetly hidden behind the brocade vest. His greying hair was in a complete mess and so out of place in the otherwise impeccable clothes of Dr. Lloyd Wyman M. D. that it made him human in some way. Trustworthy even, which was a very nifty ability in a psychiatrist.
The Dr. looked back at Hortan
"We have come a long way young man," he patted Hortan on the hand, " and I am going to lower the dosage of your anxiolytics. We are however going to continue with the Lithium-carbonate for a little while yet, ok?"
Hortan had hoped that he would have been free of the drugs altogether, but he knew that without them he would be reduced to the wreck he had been, when they dragged him in here those four months ago. He, as well as his guildmates, had thought that he could handle the situation, but as the weeks dragged on without the consolation of his Dark Queen, the loneliness and raw violence he could hear on the common Sub Space Communications Unit (SSCU) got to him. One day he rolled over on the other side instead of getting up. Three days went by before Mor Isil came to check up on him, and by that time Hortan was reduced to drooling. Well, mumbling, shaking and drooling.
Intensive drug therapy saw him almost back to almost normal within a month, and he started going to the shrink. He had done this with the usual dedication Hortan always put into his tasks, and now almost three months later he was on minimal dosage. He was grounded off course, but he was hoping that he would be allowed a supervised mining trip with one of the older guild members. That was why he was back at the Dr.'s office, trying to get clearance for launch.
"Will I be allowed to fly again doc? We have this event coming up that I really.." Dr. Wyman cut him of midsentence with a curt nod of his head.
"I am going to send a message to Surbius, you may go on escorted flights for now, and we'll see how it goes." Hortan could barely contain himself. "If all is well, you may have your full clearance back in a month, and hopefully off he Lithium-carbonate as well son."
Hortan sat up straight and almost ran to the door leading out of the room.
"The next appointment is scheduled and in your PDA. Make sure you make it, ok?" Hortan barely heard the man as he stormed out of the room, leaving the chuckling Dr. behind.
"Notes on Hortan," the Dr. said to the computer which was recording everything, "Cleared for limited flight under supervision. Will be good for further treatment. New evaluation in one month from today. Must not under any circumstances be exposed to violence for at least the next month. Danger of relapse. End. Make copy and send to Surbius Bondevo. Use form 8729/4b Psychological Evaluation for TGFT Members, Junior status. Initiate."
"...Danger of relapse. Sincerely Dr. Wyman, M.D." Surbius starred at the screen as the medical report ended. "Oh crap!" he uttered angrily, and punched the No Reply button. Another message ticked in. Sender, Hortan. Smiling his crooked smile in anticipation, he punched Open. Already knowing what would be in the message, he scanned it briefly before sighing deeply and closing it.
"So, Hortan wants to go Heliocene mining, and the doctor says it is good for him and he needs an escort that I am supposed to supply. As if I didn't have enough on my mind as it is," he thought. "Who in the name of the Abyss do I send to baby-sit...."
His eyes went to the highly polished TGFT logo on the wall and stared at the image for inspiration, a habit he had acquired over the years as XO. Alas, no inspiration coming, and his gaze started drifting to the immense amount of paperwork on his desk. He really did not want to force one of his pilots to take their busy time off as psycho support for something that might or might not help the young Hortan, and he was slowly resigning himself to taking the task upon his own shoulders. Yet another task that is. He sighed and grabbed some files. Better clear some of the paperwork first, he thought. Frowning, he noticed that the same name popped up several times on the 312B Non-Standard Behaviour Complaint forms that constituted the bulk of his paperwork. John Eldritch. Surbius frowned and scanned the papers. He smiled an even more crooked smile.
"The Muse of inspiration works in mysterious ways" he said aloud and punched up the contact number for John Eldritch. "But as long as she works for me, she can be as mysterious as she wants."
"What, no, I mean, why me? I am busy" John Eldritch protested vigourously, but to no avail. Slightly hung-over and wearing a rather wrinkled and too large TGFT uniform that looked like it had been used as floor for a viscous bout of Combat Tango, John looked like he had just awoken without sleeping much. Which was the truth actually. He had been unable to find his own jumpsuit, and had taken Waldozes, even if Waldoze towered some 15 centimeters over him and was 18 kilos more massive than him. At least he had found a spare nametag to put on.
Surbius took the very thick dossier and glanced at its more than fifty 312B's.
"Busy, Yes, I see, but hardly with guild matters." He pulled one file out at random. "These are just from last night. Complaint on non issue clothing worn in mess hall area, Complaint of utilising the water cooler for non standard drinks, Complaint on using the toilet paper for non standard use, the list is practically endless John," Surbius looked up at John over the top of the file, carefully keeping the folder to cover his mouth, so John could not see the immense smile he couldn't hide.
John laughed, "ha ha, yeah that was a good toga party." He remembered very vividly an unconscious Waldoze being wrapped in toilet paper. "But using the water cooler for the White Russians wasn't my idea," he said.
"Oh, and who did it then?" Surbius picked up his pencil.
"Never mind," John said defensively, "It doesn't matter. So, what do I have to do for the guild?"
Surbius smiled. That Machiavelli dude wasn't wrong at all. Find the right pressure buttons and you can get anything done. Besides, he didn't want to put Lambin on a 312B for the stunt with the water cooler. It was enough that Surbius knew who it really was after all, and he would get him later.
OOC: Note, that any characters who feel that they have been wrongfully used, or that they do not want to be part of the story, please respond here and I will remove you. Otherwise, enjoy:)
"....And so I believe we are finished for today, hmm?"
Hortan looked up at the elder man sitting next to him. He was clad in a tweed jacket, white shirt and tie discreetly hidden behind the brocade vest. His greying hair was in a complete mess and so out of place in the otherwise impeccable clothes of Dr. Lloyd Wyman M. D. that it made him human in some way. Trustworthy even, which was a very nifty ability in a psychiatrist.
The Dr. looked back at Hortan
"We have come a long way young man," he patted Hortan on the hand, " and I am going to lower the dosage of your anxiolytics. We are however going to continue with the Lithium-carbonate for a little while yet, ok?"
Hortan had hoped that he would have been free of the drugs altogether, but he knew that without them he would be reduced to the wreck he had been, when they dragged him in here those four months ago. He, as well as his guildmates, had thought that he could handle the situation, but as the weeks dragged on without the consolation of his Dark Queen, the loneliness and raw violence he could hear on the common Sub Space Communications Unit (SSCU) got to him. One day he rolled over on the other side instead of getting up. Three days went by before Mor Isil came to check up on him, and by that time Hortan was reduced to drooling. Well, mumbling, shaking and drooling.
Intensive drug therapy saw him almost back to almost normal within a month, and he started going to the shrink. He had done this with the usual dedication Hortan always put into his tasks, and now almost three months later he was on minimal dosage. He was grounded off course, but he was hoping that he would be allowed a supervised mining trip with one of the older guild members. That was why he was back at the Dr.'s office, trying to get clearance for launch.
"Will I be allowed to fly again doc? We have this event coming up that I really.." Dr. Wyman cut him of midsentence with a curt nod of his head.
"I am going to send a message to Surbius, you may go on escorted flights for now, and we'll see how it goes." Hortan could barely contain himself. "If all is well, you may have your full clearance back in a month, and hopefully off he Lithium-carbonate as well son."
Hortan sat up straight and almost ran to the door leading out of the room.
"The next appointment is scheduled and in your PDA. Make sure you make it, ok?" Hortan barely heard the man as he stormed out of the room, leaving the chuckling Dr. behind.
"Notes on Hortan," the Dr. said to the computer which was recording everything, "Cleared for limited flight under supervision. Will be good for further treatment. New evaluation in one month from today. Must not under any circumstances be exposed to violence for at least the next month. Danger of relapse. End. Make copy and send to Surbius Bondevo. Use form 8729/4b Psychological Evaluation for TGFT Members, Junior status. Initiate."
"...Danger of relapse. Sincerely Dr. Wyman, M.D." Surbius starred at the screen as the medical report ended. "Oh crap!" he uttered angrily, and punched the No Reply button. Another message ticked in. Sender, Hortan. Smiling his crooked smile in anticipation, he punched Open. Already knowing what would be in the message, he scanned it briefly before sighing deeply and closing it.
"So, Hortan wants to go Heliocene mining, and the doctor says it is good for him and he needs an escort that I am supposed to supply. As if I didn't have enough on my mind as it is," he thought. "Who in the name of the Abyss do I send to baby-sit...."
His eyes went to the highly polished TGFT logo on the wall and stared at the image for inspiration, a habit he had acquired over the years as XO. Alas, no inspiration coming, and his gaze started drifting to the immense amount of paperwork on his desk. He really did not want to force one of his pilots to take their busy time off as psycho support for something that might or might not help the young Hortan, and he was slowly resigning himself to taking the task upon his own shoulders. Yet another task that is. He sighed and grabbed some files. Better clear some of the paperwork first, he thought. Frowning, he noticed that the same name popped up several times on the 312B Non-Standard Behaviour Complaint forms that constituted the bulk of his paperwork. John Eldritch. Surbius frowned and scanned the papers. He smiled an even more crooked smile.
"The Muse of inspiration works in mysterious ways" he said aloud and punched up the contact number for John Eldritch. "But as long as she works for me, she can be as mysterious as she wants."
"What, no, I mean, why me? I am busy" John Eldritch protested vigourously, but to no avail. Slightly hung-over and wearing a rather wrinkled and too large TGFT uniform that looked like it had been used as floor for a viscous bout of Combat Tango, John looked like he had just awoken without sleeping much. Which was the truth actually. He had been unable to find his own jumpsuit, and had taken Waldozes, even if Waldoze towered some 15 centimeters over him and was 18 kilos more massive than him. At least he had found a spare nametag to put on.
Surbius took the very thick dossier and glanced at its more than fifty 312B's.
"Busy, Yes, I see, but hardly with guild matters." He pulled one file out at random. "These are just from last night. Complaint on non issue clothing worn in mess hall area, Complaint of utilising the water cooler for non standard drinks, Complaint on using the toilet paper for non standard use, the list is practically endless John," Surbius looked up at John over the top of the file, carefully keeping the folder to cover his mouth, so John could not see the immense smile he couldn't hide.
John laughed, "ha ha, yeah that was a good toga party." He remembered very vividly an unconscious Waldoze being wrapped in toilet paper. "But using the water cooler for the White Russians wasn't my idea," he said.
"Oh, and who did it then?" Surbius picked up his pencil.
"Never mind," John said defensively, "It doesn't matter. So, what do I have to do for the guild?"
Surbius smiled. That Machiavelli dude wasn't wrong at all. Find the right pressure buttons and you can get anything done. Besides, he didn't want to put Lambin on a 312B for the stunt with the water cooler. It was enough that Surbius knew who it really was after all, and he would get him later.
OOC: Note, that any characters who feel that they have been wrongfully used, or that they do not want to be part of the story, please respond here and I will remove you. Otherwise, enjoy:)
The ancient miner fills a glass and listens to the unfolding tale...
2. Hardware
Hortan was buzzing with energy. Finally, he thought, I get to take the Ole Sloth Moth out for a mining trip. He had packed his daypack and was skipping along the access corridor to Moda's workshop when he bumped into Vardonx, who was headed in the opposite direction with a pair of very pretty blonde girls on his arms.
"Hort, hi mate, long time since," he beamed at Hortan. "Are you going to the party tonight?"
Hortan looked at Vardonx slightly bewildered. "Party?"
"Yeah, Mor Isil is throwing this party to celebrate his new class XVIII level trade license. It's gonna be a blast"
Hortan looked at Vardonx, at the two girls, immediately looked into the floor and blushed like mad when he realised that one of the girls was wearing bodypaint instead of a top, and muttered, "don't know, sure, if I can make it, gotta go mine, Helio can't wait, must fill one moth full.."
Vardonx put one finger under Hortan chin, lifted his face and looked directly into the baby blue eyes. "You come if you feel up to it, ok? Girls, you are embarrassing my man here, lets go." With that the giggling trio side-stepped Hortan and left him standing in the corridor alone.
Shaking his head slowly, he started trotting down towards Moda's place again.
The entrance to the hangar was framed by two banners of black synth silk with a painting of a happy smiling skunk with its arms folded adorning each sheet. As usual, loud Heavy Metal was competing with the sounds of various machines stationed at seemingly random places around the shop. The hard distortion guitar and drums had an almost intoxicating sound to it, and coupled with the deep raspy voice of the singer "Sleep my friend and you will see, the dream is my reality. They keep me locked up in this cage, can't they see it's why my brain says Raaaage" made Hortan stand still and listen intensely. He would probably have stayed still for the rest of the song, if it wasn't for a loud laugh that turned into an almost nasal guffawing. Fearing that someone was choking, Hortan ran quickly over towards the sound and spotted Zathras and Moda. Moda holding one arm on a bulkhead to stabilise himself while laughing, and Zathras standing with a puzzled look on his face, and a hydrospanner in his right hand that had very obviously and catastrophically malfunctioned. The hydraulics fluid usually contained inside such a device, was covering most of Zathras, the bulkhead and some machine that was split into its component parts.
"Are you ok?" Hortan asked half waiting for an explosion of rage to come from Zathras. Instead, Zathras tossed his head back and laughed as well, while tossing the now defunct spanner into the spreading pool of hydraulics fluid. He pointed one greasy finger at Moda.
"Ok, point to you for that one. What is the score then?"
"Thre, thre, three two ha ha.." Moda managed to squeeze out between laughs. Noticing Hortan, he winked at him and pointed towards the refrigeration unit that was placed between three large comfy chairs. "Get us a beer, will you?" he asked while holding his side and looking at Zathras who had started cleaning his face and hands with a rag.
Hortan fetched two Serco Ales and one Nyrius Dew. Moda looked at the soda with distaste, and accepted the beers for him and Zathras.
"Still going dry, eh? Cheers anyway" Moda raised his beer and gulped it down in a couple of swallows.
"Yeah, I have to, at least until I stop on the Lithium pills." Hortan had never really been a heavy beer drinker, but he had always been willing to drink one in good company. Helio Mists on the other hand. Another thing he was longing for when he didn't have to take the pills.
"So, what brings you here son?" Zathras asked while sipping his beer. "He is here for his EAPRS, you know that." Moda's voice was almost completely drowned by the clinging noises from the refrigerator, that he has stuck his head into in the search for more beer. It didn't help either that he had stuffed his mouth with some leftover BioCom Natural Flavoured Imitation Synth Pork Rinds, better known as Pork Candy.
EAPRS, pronounced JAPPERS was a new invention that Hortan was testing for Moda. The Enhanced Automatic Pilot Recovery System was supposed to take the person it protected, and quantum teleport that person to a designated facility upon catastrophic failure of life support. This should supposedly allow the person to remain conscious all the time and eliminate the minutes normally needed after recovery.
"Oh yeah, we installed that like a month ago. It is ready for testing," Zathras smiled and nodded in the direction of bay five, "but you don't have to, you know, test is on purpose."
Hortan looked at the bright yellow Behemoth with its matte black mining beams inside the bay. Ye Olde Sloth Moth XXIV, his favourite mining ship.
"So, where did you put the buttons this time Moda?" Hortan asked, remembering last time he tested something for the tinker.
"No buttons man, it is all automated. Life support stops, JAPPERS kicks in. You see the cute face of the nurse and runs off to get another ship," Moda grinned, beer in one hand and pork candy in the other.
Hortan went over to his ship and stroked it with his right hand all the way from the nose along the flank to the large engines in the back. He went inside and checked the cockpit, made sure the dice's were at their usual spot in the window, and downloaded his favourite music to the computer. Satisfied everything was just as it should be, he dumped the daypack inside and jumped outside again.
"Can I take the ole gal out now Moda?" he asked
"Sure, it is after all your ship. Enjoy, and don't test the JAPPERS too hard, you hear," Moda was shouting from the other side of the hall. He was bent over some engine or other with only Zathras's legs sticking out.
Hortan sent a notification to the dock master, and ran off to find John Eldritch. This day was becoming better and better. What could possibly go wrong?
Hortan was buzzing with energy. Finally, he thought, I get to take the Ole Sloth Moth out for a mining trip. He had packed his daypack and was skipping along the access corridor to Moda's workshop when he bumped into Vardonx, who was headed in the opposite direction with a pair of very pretty blonde girls on his arms.
"Hort, hi mate, long time since," he beamed at Hortan. "Are you going to the party tonight?"
Hortan looked at Vardonx slightly bewildered. "Party?"
"Yeah, Mor Isil is throwing this party to celebrate his new class XVIII level trade license. It's gonna be a blast"
Hortan looked at Vardonx, at the two girls, immediately looked into the floor and blushed like mad when he realised that one of the girls was wearing bodypaint instead of a top, and muttered, "don't know, sure, if I can make it, gotta go mine, Helio can't wait, must fill one moth full.."
Vardonx put one finger under Hortan chin, lifted his face and looked directly into the baby blue eyes. "You come if you feel up to it, ok? Girls, you are embarrassing my man here, lets go." With that the giggling trio side-stepped Hortan and left him standing in the corridor alone.
Shaking his head slowly, he started trotting down towards Moda's place again.
The entrance to the hangar was framed by two banners of black synth silk with a painting of a happy smiling skunk with its arms folded adorning each sheet. As usual, loud Heavy Metal was competing with the sounds of various machines stationed at seemingly random places around the shop. The hard distortion guitar and drums had an almost intoxicating sound to it, and coupled with the deep raspy voice of the singer "Sleep my friend and you will see, the dream is my reality. They keep me locked up in this cage, can't they see it's why my brain says Raaaage" made Hortan stand still and listen intensely. He would probably have stayed still for the rest of the song, if it wasn't for a loud laugh that turned into an almost nasal guffawing. Fearing that someone was choking, Hortan ran quickly over towards the sound and spotted Zathras and Moda. Moda holding one arm on a bulkhead to stabilise himself while laughing, and Zathras standing with a puzzled look on his face, and a hydrospanner in his right hand that had very obviously and catastrophically malfunctioned. The hydraulics fluid usually contained inside such a device, was covering most of Zathras, the bulkhead and some machine that was split into its component parts.
"Are you ok?" Hortan asked half waiting for an explosion of rage to come from Zathras. Instead, Zathras tossed his head back and laughed as well, while tossing the now defunct spanner into the spreading pool of hydraulics fluid. He pointed one greasy finger at Moda.
"Ok, point to you for that one. What is the score then?"
"Thre, thre, three two ha ha.." Moda managed to squeeze out between laughs. Noticing Hortan, he winked at him and pointed towards the refrigeration unit that was placed between three large comfy chairs. "Get us a beer, will you?" he asked while holding his side and looking at Zathras who had started cleaning his face and hands with a rag.
Hortan fetched two Serco Ales and one Nyrius Dew. Moda looked at the soda with distaste, and accepted the beers for him and Zathras.
"Still going dry, eh? Cheers anyway" Moda raised his beer and gulped it down in a couple of swallows.
"Yeah, I have to, at least until I stop on the Lithium pills." Hortan had never really been a heavy beer drinker, but he had always been willing to drink one in good company. Helio Mists on the other hand. Another thing he was longing for when he didn't have to take the pills.
"So, what brings you here son?" Zathras asked while sipping his beer. "He is here for his EAPRS, you know that." Moda's voice was almost completely drowned by the clinging noises from the refrigerator, that he has stuck his head into in the search for more beer. It didn't help either that he had stuffed his mouth with some leftover BioCom Natural Flavoured Imitation Synth Pork Rinds, better known as Pork Candy.
EAPRS, pronounced JAPPERS was a new invention that Hortan was testing for Moda. The Enhanced Automatic Pilot Recovery System was supposed to take the person it protected, and quantum teleport that person to a designated facility upon catastrophic failure of life support. This should supposedly allow the person to remain conscious all the time and eliminate the minutes normally needed after recovery.
"Oh yeah, we installed that like a month ago. It is ready for testing," Zathras smiled and nodded in the direction of bay five, "but you don't have to, you know, test is on purpose."
Hortan looked at the bright yellow Behemoth with its matte black mining beams inside the bay. Ye Olde Sloth Moth XXIV, his favourite mining ship.
"So, where did you put the buttons this time Moda?" Hortan asked, remembering last time he tested something for the tinker.
"No buttons man, it is all automated. Life support stops, JAPPERS kicks in. You see the cute face of the nurse and runs off to get another ship," Moda grinned, beer in one hand and pork candy in the other.
Hortan went over to his ship and stroked it with his right hand all the way from the nose along the flank to the large engines in the back. He went inside and checked the cockpit, made sure the dice's were at their usual spot in the window, and downloaded his favourite music to the computer. Satisfied everything was just as it should be, he dumped the daypack inside and jumped outside again.
"Can I take the ole gal out now Moda?" he asked
"Sure, it is after all your ship. Enjoy, and don't test the JAPPERS too hard, you hear," Moda was shouting from the other side of the hall. He was bent over some engine or other with only Zathras's legs sticking out.
Hortan sent a notification to the dock master, and ran off to find John Eldritch. This day was becoming better and better. What could possibly go wrong?
3. Mining
Luckily Mor Isils office was on the way to the launch bay. Otherwise he would have forgotten to run by, and Hortan had to get permissions from the councillor for Mining operations prior to launching. That way the roids were harvested most efficiently, and all the roids were sure to be utilised. The pretty young girl sitting outside beamed a smile at Hortan that made him blush slightly. Sensing his unease, she quickly picked up a file and shoved it at him. The slight smell of Eo roses accompanying her hand sure didn't ease his discomfort, but he took the papers nonetheless.
"Could you take this in to the Councilman on your way in please? He is waiting for you"
Hortan took the papers ever willing to help, and forgot his unease. Focus now, he was going mining! The office that Mor Isil inhabited was fairly large, with some of the most beautiful pictures in known space. Hortan thought so at least. All registered Heliocene roids were displayed in 3d on the walls, including Hortans favourite roid. He remembered the first time he mined it, with Latin Queen Isabella...
"Yes?" Mor asked after he had observed Hortan enter the room, stop in the doorway, papers in hand and stare at the same picture for about two minutes.
"Oh, sorry, memories," Hortan snapped out of it and smiled to Mor. "I have these papers for you." He handed them over to a slightly puzzled Mor Isis. "From your secretary, she said you needed them. You have a list of roids for me councillor?"
Mor looked at the file, and put it in the out box where his secretary had taken it some minutes ago, and took the special file he had created for this occasion. "Sure have, it's just a small list to start with, but I expect the usual quality." Mor had been briefed by Surbius on Hortans state of mind, and so had given him two station locations. Both Heliocene off course, but very far away from the usual hive activity.
Hortan took the file, looked the two pages through, and said with a bit of disappointment, "Is that all? I had hoped for a longer trip, maybe one or two of the lesser roid fields now I have John with me."
"Sorry Hort, best I can do on such short notice. Don't want you to miss the party tonight either, right? You are welcome if you feel like it, I think it will be great fun."
"Yeah, well, I'll see if I get the ore in on time for it," Hortan replied, even as he knew he would be finished at least four hours before the party would start. As soon as he had said it, he regretted. "Sorry, it's just, I wanted so bad to do a long time mining marathon, and this is, this is..."
"A start Hortan, it is a start," Mor Isil interrupted. "You deliver the quality I am used to, and we'll find some long term mining mission. That's a promise, you hear?"
Hortan stood straighter. "Aye aye councilman Isil. And I shall attempt to be in time for the party." Hortan turned around and hurried out of the door down the corridor towards the launch bay area.
Hortan found John in bay seven. He was going through the checklist for his Centaur Mk III, moving with infinite care and deep concentration as he made sure the combat modifications to the trade ship were up to specifications. Satisfied, he signed the pre-flight check board and handed it to the anxious flight technician.
"Hortan," he turned and smiled, "are you ready for some mining? I have received the locations from Mor, and have programmed the navcomps on both ships. Ready when you are."
Hortan ran to his own Ole Sloth Moth, and engaged the autolaunch sequence, the great bulk of the Behemoth clearing the launch bays with centimetres to spare on either side. The green bulk of John's ship was off to the right, and with the usual 160 m/s, they accelerated out towards the jump point. Only a short jump, and they were in the Heliocene roid fields. Hortan engaged the High Density mining beams, and turned to activate the zero-G still. Soon, the only sounds were the droning from the capacitors on the mining beams and the drips from the still. Not even the SSCU was active.
Too soon he had filled his quota, and he jumped back to Dau K-10 with John.
"Station Traffic Control, this is pilots Eldritch and Hortan on course for docking. Requesting one offloading and one combat craft maintenance bay" Johns voice was clear across the SSCU. "Checking credentials. Ok, you are cleared inbound for bays seven and 18 respectively, approach paths to be downloaded immediately," the STC came back.
After docking, Hortan got out and waved byes to John, who was still inside the Centaur. It had been a great day. Now he only had two problems, how to convince the guild that he was ready to go out on his own, and what to wear for the party...
Seven figures sitting in high-backed chairs placed in a halfcircle. All dressed in black robes, veiled faces, gloves, and all backlit. The single slab of highly polished obsidian that served as a common table, had seven embedded computer screens hidden from view. Only one large spotlight was turned on, and it was pointed directly at Ardan's face. He had been sitting in the uncomfortable three legged metal stool for around twenty minutes now, and not a single sound had been uttered. The only action that had portrayed the seven figures as alive was the single finger that pointed for him to sit when he entered.
"Hmm, so it seems to be running along nicely," one of the robed figures said.
"We have to be absolutely certain we take prime alfa out with the first blow," another voice said. "Otherwise I am not sure we can contain the situation."
Ardan looked in the direction of what he thought was the source of the voice. "I have a specially trained EVA team that is tasked with making sure that the APRS will not activate, and that it will look like malfunction. I have...."
"You have the right to shut up," the voice said. "I am sure you have planned well. It looks feasible, but someone has to figure out what we do if, or rather when, things go FUBAR. Now, plan agreed, you have two days from now to initiate. We will be informed as of the timing of attack. Leave us now."
Ardan kept his face neutral, and his body causal even as he was trembling inside with excitement. They accepted, THEY ACCEPTED! He nodded his head to the council and walked into the anteroom on shaky legs, that were only partly caused by the lack of blood to the legs due to the uncomfortable stool.
The hooded figure in the centre raised his voice. "Great dangers involved, but also great opportunities. I need an unanimous council on this one. I need it now, or Ardan will be terminated."
On his screen was the small chamber that held Ardan while he was waiting to be released to the station proper, as seen through the thermic targeting of the large calibre machinegun installed in the ceiling. With one touch of his hand, hundreds of bullets would shatter the frail body to a pulp.
"Vote now."
Six votes for aye, his own vote remaining. He slammed down his hand on the screen.
"The council has voted. We proceed. Adjourned"
On the screen, he could see Ardan move out of the room, oblivious to how close he had been to non existence.
Luckily Mor Isils office was on the way to the launch bay. Otherwise he would have forgotten to run by, and Hortan had to get permissions from the councillor for Mining operations prior to launching. That way the roids were harvested most efficiently, and all the roids were sure to be utilised. The pretty young girl sitting outside beamed a smile at Hortan that made him blush slightly. Sensing his unease, she quickly picked up a file and shoved it at him. The slight smell of Eo roses accompanying her hand sure didn't ease his discomfort, but he took the papers nonetheless.
"Could you take this in to the Councilman on your way in please? He is waiting for you"
Hortan took the papers ever willing to help, and forgot his unease. Focus now, he was going mining! The office that Mor Isil inhabited was fairly large, with some of the most beautiful pictures in known space. Hortan thought so at least. All registered Heliocene roids were displayed in 3d on the walls, including Hortans favourite roid. He remembered the first time he mined it, with Latin Queen Isabella...
"Yes?" Mor asked after he had observed Hortan enter the room, stop in the doorway, papers in hand and stare at the same picture for about two minutes.
"Oh, sorry, memories," Hortan snapped out of it and smiled to Mor. "I have these papers for you." He handed them over to a slightly puzzled Mor Isis. "From your secretary, she said you needed them. You have a list of roids for me councillor?"
Mor looked at the file, and put it in the out box where his secretary had taken it some minutes ago, and took the special file he had created for this occasion. "Sure have, it's just a small list to start with, but I expect the usual quality." Mor had been briefed by Surbius on Hortans state of mind, and so had given him two station locations. Both Heliocene off course, but very far away from the usual hive activity.
Hortan took the file, looked the two pages through, and said with a bit of disappointment, "Is that all? I had hoped for a longer trip, maybe one or two of the lesser roid fields now I have John with me."
"Sorry Hort, best I can do on such short notice. Don't want you to miss the party tonight either, right? You are welcome if you feel like it, I think it will be great fun."
"Yeah, well, I'll see if I get the ore in on time for it," Hortan replied, even as he knew he would be finished at least four hours before the party would start. As soon as he had said it, he regretted. "Sorry, it's just, I wanted so bad to do a long time mining marathon, and this is, this is..."
"A start Hortan, it is a start," Mor Isil interrupted. "You deliver the quality I am used to, and we'll find some long term mining mission. That's a promise, you hear?"
Hortan stood straighter. "Aye aye councilman Isil. And I shall attempt to be in time for the party." Hortan turned around and hurried out of the door down the corridor towards the launch bay area.
Hortan found John in bay seven. He was going through the checklist for his Centaur Mk III, moving with infinite care and deep concentration as he made sure the combat modifications to the trade ship were up to specifications. Satisfied, he signed the pre-flight check board and handed it to the anxious flight technician.
"Hortan," he turned and smiled, "are you ready for some mining? I have received the locations from Mor, and have programmed the navcomps on both ships. Ready when you are."
Hortan ran to his own Ole Sloth Moth, and engaged the autolaunch sequence, the great bulk of the Behemoth clearing the launch bays with centimetres to spare on either side. The green bulk of John's ship was off to the right, and with the usual 160 m/s, they accelerated out towards the jump point. Only a short jump, and they were in the Heliocene roid fields. Hortan engaged the High Density mining beams, and turned to activate the zero-G still. Soon, the only sounds were the droning from the capacitors on the mining beams and the drips from the still. Not even the SSCU was active.
Too soon he had filled his quota, and he jumped back to Dau K-10 with John.
"Station Traffic Control, this is pilots Eldritch and Hortan on course for docking. Requesting one offloading and one combat craft maintenance bay" Johns voice was clear across the SSCU. "Checking credentials. Ok, you are cleared inbound for bays seven and 18 respectively, approach paths to be downloaded immediately," the STC came back.
After docking, Hortan got out and waved byes to John, who was still inside the Centaur. It had been a great day. Now he only had two problems, how to convince the guild that he was ready to go out on his own, and what to wear for the party...
Seven figures sitting in high-backed chairs placed in a halfcircle. All dressed in black robes, veiled faces, gloves, and all backlit. The single slab of highly polished obsidian that served as a common table, had seven embedded computer screens hidden from view. Only one large spotlight was turned on, and it was pointed directly at Ardan's face. He had been sitting in the uncomfortable three legged metal stool for around twenty minutes now, and not a single sound had been uttered. The only action that had portrayed the seven figures as alive was the single finger that pointed for him to sit when he entered.
"Hmm, so it seems to be running along nicely," one of the robed figures said.
"We have to be absolutely certain we take prime alfa out with the first blow," another voice said. "Otherwise I am not sure we can contain the situation."
Ardan looked in the direction of what he thought was the source of the voice. "I have a specially trained EVA team that is tasked with making sure that the APRS will not activate, and that it will look like malfunction. I have...."
"You have the right to shut up," the voice said. "I am sure you have planned well. It looks feasible, but someone has to figure out what we do if, or rather when, things go FUBAR. Now, plan agreed, you have two days from now to initiate. We will be informed as of the timing of attack. Leave us now."
Ardan kept his face neutral, and his body causal even as he was trembling inside with excitement. They accepted, THEY ACCEPTED! He nodded his head to the council and walked into the anteroom on shaky legs, that were only partly caused by the lack of blood to the legs due to the uncomfortable stool.
The hooded figure in the centre raised his voice. "Great dangers involved, but also great opportunities. I need an unanimous council on this one. I need it now, or Ardan will be terminated."
On his screen was the small chamber that held Ardan while he was waiting to be released to the station proper, as seen through the thermic targeting of the large calibre machinegun installed in the ceiling. With one touch of his hand, hundreds of bullets would shatter the frail body to a pulp.
"Vote now."
Six votes for aye, his own vote remaining. He slammed down his hand on the screen.
"The council has voted. We proceed. Adjourned"
On the screen, he could see Ardan move out of the room, oblivious to how close he had been to non existence.
4. The Party
Dressed up in his finest uniform, Hortan entered the party and immediately knew he had missed something vital. The bar was full of what appeared to be a support group from CLM, all swaggering, bandanas, cutlasses and parrots. The rear of the room contained a Roman consul's table, complete with slaves, to the left side, and a Heavy Metal band with support groupies to the right. A trio of Victorian looking poets, one with a very thick book, were trying to perform something very loduly between these rowdy groups. But what took the price was the seven foot drag queen dancing on the table in the middle of the room and her, or rather his entourage, with the very large moustache and broad shoulders, that was performing some kind of breakdance/martial arts on the floor to the tune of an ancient Swedish band named ABBA. Dancing Queen, how apt Hortan thought, and was just about to turn and bolt, when one of the pie rats swaggered up to him, bottle in one hand , eyepatch on both eyes, a pegleg and a wicked looking claw.
"Yarr, it be the Hortan yarr. What kinda costume be ye havin'? Some kind of trader, yarr? Pay ye me then"
Hortan looked closer, "Pasquel? That you?"
"Yarr matey, he be I yarrr. Hey, didn't they tell you? It is a fancy dress party." Pasquel pointed to the consul, slurring slightly. "There's Vardonx, but who the two slavegirls are, I don't know. Unfortunately," he laughed. Hortan had some idea.
"Over there is, Moda, Zathras, M.2, Fluffy, Mor Isil and the girl that looks so adoringly at him is his secretary, Ms Kanaka," he pointed to the metal heads. "The guy with the large orange Afro-Mohawk is Fluffy, just in case you are wondering." "Over here in the bar is me, Ato, John, Strat, and Mercy," he pointed with the bottle of Sedina Rum before taking another swig.
"The Victorian bard over there is Surbius, and I believe he is trying to force people to listen to his poem "An Ode to the 243-b, Permission to Dance form", but nobody seems to listen much. It has been going on for about three hours now anyway. The green clad fellow against the wall with the "Kiss me I'm Irish" t-shirt and a bottle of whisky in each hand is Buzz. And the attentive helper with the banjo is Tuinya. Amazing patience, deafness, or a momentary lapse of sanity is my bet as to why they didn't run off or perish hours ago." Hortan looked, but he failed to take his eyes away from the swirling drag queen for more than a few seconds.
"And the piece de resistance, Mary-Jo on the table, and Betty-Lou on the floor. Better known as The Boss and Waldoze." Pasquel took another swig of the bottle.
Ecka finished his tabledance with a jump down to the floor, a swing around the chair, pirouetted over to the bar on the six inch plateau shoes, landed in an empty chair and called in a very deep voice for whisky. Hortan was awestruck. The timing was perfect, as befitted an extremely skilled acrobat/fighter such as The Boss. Waldoze ended his routine with a handstand and vaulted over to Hortan. He pushed Hortan into a chair and sat on his lap.Taking Hortans cap off, he quickly ruffled his hair.
"So, you came. Bloody marvelous. Need a drink mate, can you fix me one? These heels are killing me, and the skirt and stockings doesn't make it much better." He planted a huge kiss on Hortans cheek, thereby painting it in bright neon red and switched lap to Pasquel, so Hortan could get up.
Completely confused, Hortan started for the bar, turned around and went back for his TGFT propeller cap, put it on his head and went up to the pie rats. He moved in between John and Strat, and tried to get the barmans attention. Dressed in black leather pants with cut-outs on the buttocks, a leather vest with metal studs, a huge moustache and a low leather cap, Lambin turned around and smiled at Hortan.
"So, what'll it be sailor?" he said with a slight lisp.
"One large rum, one large Helio Mists and one Nyrius Dew, please," he smiled at Lambin.
"Sorry, no can do mate." He pointed to the sign proclaiming that you had to be above 18 to be served alcohol.
"It is not for me, it is...Hey, I am over 18" Hortan protested.
"Not what you cap says. According to that, you are a minor," Lambin had to turn away so as not laugh too loudly.
Hortan tore his cap of and looked at the caption. The E in MINER had been covered with an O. Looking up, he saw that John and Lambin could barely contain themselves, and as he realised this, they cracked completely. Loud laughter was echoing through the bar, and Lambin served the drinks. Wiping away a tear at the corner of one eye, he stuttered "On the house mate, on the house."
Hortan looked at John fuming and indignant. "How long time have I been walking around with that?" "Oh, no more than some hours, a day at most," he hiccupped. Taking Hortan around the shoulders, he led him over to the table with Waldoze and seated him. "You have fun now, you hear? Chill out and have fun mate"
Hortan lasted two hours. Then he had to get some peace and quiet, and retired to his bed. He awoke to the soft chime of the guild internal channel. Awake almost immediately, he punched "answer" and croaked "yeah."
A soft female voice answered "Hortan, you are needed in the command centre. You have 10 minutes. End of message."
Regretting that he had brought the dress uniform to the party yesterday, and especially that he had been active in playing "space helmet rugby" across the wet floor, he settled for a standard flightsuit and propeller cap. He bolted down the corridor to the OPS room. Inside the room, he was greeted by Ecka, who was sitting as usual in his command seat, crossed claymores and shield hung over the impressive tartan cloth that adorned the back wall.
"Hortan, how are ye lad?" the Voice of Ecka cut through the clattering noises as clearly as if Hortan had been wearing earphones turned up to maximum. "Come over here, sit." Ecka pointed to the large synth leather chair normally used by Surbius.
Hortan walked over, sat in the chair, and looked up at Ecka. "I am good Sir, I am still on my medication, but the doc says that I can fly again."
"Aye lad, I read ye file. What he also tells, is that ye have ta do second line duty for a while. I have however a wee problem ye cae help me with if ye so care."
"Anything Sir, just tell me what," Hortan said eagerly.
"We be havin this convoy later that we are setting up fa the TPG, ye kenn? And we hae promised to support with five combat pilots. Yesterday Lambin tried a new trick with a cutlass and impaled himself with it. So he is outa flying for at least a week."
"Sir," Hortan protested, "I can't fly as a combat pilot, I don't know how."
Ecka stopped him with a smile and a shake of the head. "No lad, ye will nae be flying combat. I am asking ye ta take my space as leader of the TPG merchant convoy, and the I will take the combat duties. Truth be told," he winked, " I prefer a wee fight to a convoy duty. So, can I count on ye?"
"It will be an honour Sir," Hortan said, bursting with pride. Him, leading a TPG convoy for the greater co-operation between the guild and the ancient group.
"T'will have ta be a secret lad. Ye hae ta paint ye moth in green and pretend ta be me, ye kenn? I trust ye lad, contact Moda for specifics. We'll fly in 18 hours. Dismissed."
Hortan practically ran down to Moda to get the details. He would show them that he could handle it, he would show them. Then perhaps he would be allowed to do solo mining missions again.
Ardan watched the three EVA teams walk into the three Tunguska Aggressors, silently counting them off as alfa, bravo and charlie. One team could do the assassination, but Ardan was a firm believer in triple redundancy. Besides, at just around 150k credits per team, he could easily cover it under the expenses allowed him by the Council. The strike force was almost ready and assembled. The navigation route for the convoy had been implanted in the correct computers. That was another million credits. Now he only had to wait for the main players to undock so the plan could unfold. His plan, his masterpiece, his entry into the council.
Dressed up in his finest uniform, Hortan entered the party and immediately knew he had missed something vital. The bar was full of what appeared to be a support group from CLM, all swaggering, bandanas, cutlasses and parrots. The rear of the room contained a Roman consul's table, complete with slaves, to the left side, and a Heavy Metal band with support groupies to the right. A trio of Victorian looking poets, one with a very thick book, were trying to perform something very loduly between these rowdy groups. But what took the price was the seven foot drag queen dancing on the table in the middle of the room and her, or rather his entourage, with the very large moustache and broad shoulders, that was performing some kind of breakdance/martial arts on the floor to the tune of an ancient Swedish band named ABBA. Dancing Queen, how apt Hortan thought, and was just about to turn and bolt, when one of the pie rats swaggered up to him, bottle in one hand , eyepatch on both eyes, a pegleg and a wicked looking claw.
"Yarr, it be the Hortan yarr. What kinda costume be ye havin'? Some kind of trader, yarr? Pay ye me then"
Hortan looked closer, "Pasquel? That you?"
"Yarr matey, he be I yarrr. Hey, didn't they tell you? It is a fancy dress party." Pasquel pointed to the consul, slurring slightly. "There's Vardonx, but who the two slavegirls are, I don't know. Unfortunately," he laughed. Hortan had some idea.
"Over there is, Moda, Zathras, M.2, Fluffy, Mor Isil and the girl that looks so adoringly at him is his secretary, Ms Kanaka," he pointed to the metal heads. "The guy with the large orange Afro-Mohawk is Fluffy, just in case you are wondering." "Over here in the bar is me, Ato, John, Strat, and Mercy," he pointed with the bottle of Sedina Rum before taking another swig.
"The Victorian bard over there is Surbius, and I believe he is trying to force people to listen to his poem "An Ode to the 243-b, Permission to Dance form", but nobody seems to listen much. It has been going on for about three hours now anyway. The green clad fellow against the wall with the "Kiss me I'm Irish" t-shirt and a bottle of whisky in each hand is Buzz. And the attentive helper with the banjo is Tuinya. Amazing patience, deafness, or a momentary lapse of sanity is my bet as to why they didn't run off or perish hours ago." Hortan looked, but he failed to take his eyes away from the swirling drag queen for more than a few seconds.
"And the piece de resistance, Mary-Jo on the table, and Betty-Lou on the floor. Better known as The Boss and Waldoze." Pasquel took another swig of the bottle.
Ecka finished his tabledance with a jump down to the floor, a swing around the chair, pirouetted over to the bar on the six inch plateau shoes, landed in an empty chair and called in a very deep voice for whisky. Hortan was awestruck. The timing was perfect, as befitted an extremely skilled acrobat/fighter such as The Boss. Waldoze ended his routine with a handstand and vaulted over to Hortan. He pushed Hortan into a chair and sat on his lap.Taking Hortans cap off, he quickly ruffled his hair.
"So, you came. Bloody marvelous. Need a drink mate, can you fix me one? These heels are killing me, and the skirt and stockings doesn't make it much better." He planted a huge kiss on Hortans cheek, thereby painting it in bright neon red and switched lap to Pasquel, so Hortan could get up.
Completely confused, Hortan started for the bar, turned around and went back for his TGFT propeller cap, put it on his head and went up to the pie rats. He moved in between John and Strat, and tried to get the barmans attention. Dressed in black leather pants with cut-outs on the buttocks, a leather vest with metal studs, a huge moustache and a low leather cap, Lambin turned around and smiled at Hortan.
"So, what'll it be sailor?" he said with a slight lisp.
"One large rum, one large Helio Mists and one Nyrius Dew, please," he smiled at Lambin.
"Sorry, no can do mate." He pointed to the sign proclaiming that you had to be above 18 to be served alcohol.
"It is not for me, it is...Hey, I am over 18" Hortan protested.
"Not what you cap says. According to that, you are a minor," Lambin had to turn away so as not laugh too loudly.
Hortan tore his cap of and looked at the caption. The E in MINER had been covered with an O. Looking up, he saw that John and Lambin could barely contain themselves, and as he realised this, they cracked completely. Loud laughter was echoing through the bar, and Lambin served the drinks. Wiping away a tear at the corner of one eye, he stuttered "On the house mate, on the house."
Hortan looked at John fuming and indignant. "How long time have I been walking around with that?" "Oh, no more than some hours, a day at most," he hiccupped. Taking Hortan around the shoulders, he led him over to the table with Waldoze and seated him. "You have fun now, you hear? Chill out and have fun mate"
Hortan lasted two hours. Then he had to get some peace and quiet, and retired to his bed. He awoke to the soft chime of the guild internal channel. Awake almost immediately, he punched "answer" and croaked "yeah."
A soft female voice answered "Hortan, you are needed in the command centre. You have 10 minutes. End of message."
Regretting that he had brought the dress uniform to the party yesterday, and especially that he had been active in playing "space helmet rugby" across the wet floor, he settled for a standard flightsuit and propeller cap. He bolted down the corridor to the OPS room. Inside the room, he was greeted by Ecka, who was sitting as usual in his command seat, crossed claymores and shield hung over the impressive tartan cloth that adorned the back wall.
"Hortan, how are ye lad?" the Voice of Ecka cut through the clattering noises as clearly as if Hortan had been wearing earphones turned up to maximum. "Come over here, sit." Ecka pointed to the large synth leather chair normally used by Surbius.
Hortan walked over, sat in the chair, and looked up at Ecka. "I am good Sir, I am still on my medication, but the doc says that I can fly again."
"Aye lad, I read ye file. What he also tells, is that ye have ta do second line duty for a while. I have however a wee problem ye cae help me with if ye so care."
"Anything Sir, just tell me what," Hortan said eagerly.
"We be havin this convoy later that we are setting up fa the TPG, ye kenn? And we hae promised to support with five combat pilots. Yesterday Lambin tried a new trick with a cutlass and impaled himself with it. So he is outa flying for at least a week."
"Sir," Hortan protested, "I can't fly as a combat pilot, I don't know how."
Ecka stopped him with a smile and a shake of the head. "No lad, ye will nae be flying combat. I am asking ye ta take my space as leader of the TPG merchant convoy, and the I will take the combat duties. Truth be told," he winked, " I prefer a wee fight to a convoy duty. So, can I count on ye?"
"It will be an honour Sir," Hortan said, bursting with pride. Him, leading a TPG convoy for the greater co-operation between the guild and the ancient group.
"T'will have ta be a secret lad. Ye hae ta paint ye moth in green and pretend ta be me, ye kenn? I trust ye lad, contact Moda for specifics. We'll fly in 18 hours. Dismissed."
Hortan practically ran down to Moda to get the details. He would show them that he could handle it, he would show them. Then perhaps he would be allowed to do solo mining missions again.
Ardan watched the three EVA teams walk into the three Tunguska Aggressors, silently counting them off as alfa, bravo and charlie. One team could do the assassination, but Ardan was a firm believer in triple redundancy. Besides, at just around 150k credits per team, he could easily cover it under the expenses allowed him by the Council. The strike force was almost ready and assembled. The navigation route for the convoy had been implanted in the correct computers. That was another million credits. Now he only had to wait for the main players to undock so the plan could unfold. His plan, his masterpiece, his entry into the council.
nice Whytee keep it goin
Elbryon[ITAN]
Elbryon[ITAN]
Tabledance, jumping, and pirouettes.
That will have serious repercussions for the ancient miner´s lumbar region.
That will have serious repercussions for the ancient miner´s lumbar region.
Och , excellent writing .
hehe, I like it, keep it up =)
Thanks Hortan. Enjoyed reading it. Didn't enjoy the Irish morning after hangover though. But the party was a grand one. Anytime I can go and not remember a thing about it, that is a sign of a truly exempliary inebriation.
Buzz
Buzz
5. The convoy
The briefing room was packed. It was after all going to be a massive convoy with more than fifty pilots. The block of regulation issue light blue jumpsuits was the 38 Behemoth, Centaur and Atlas pilots from TPG to the front and left. To their right was the six pilots from TGFT in their green suits. Right behind them were six Vipers pilots, their yellow and purple suits adorned with a large viper, fangs ready, on the left shoulder and flight badge on the right. In front of the large screen was another Viper with the nametag Strat on his right side chest pocket.
"So, we are finally here, except for one TGFT pilot?" he asked. The leader of the TGFT group nodded. "Right, you have the route plan on your memsticks, with timings and jumpsequence. Anybody missing one, come see me afterwards. Hmm, let me see," he looked through his notes, "Oh yeah, last minute change. Pilot Hortan will lead the supply convoy, as Mr. Estenk will be flying escort duty on Tangerine flight. I will still lead Purple flight. Green leaders callsign will be unchanged, Green Alfa."
Hortan knew all this, but he, Strat and Ecka were probably the only ones. If anyone had any objections, it would be too late now, hence the secrecy.
"Right, Hortan, lead your flight out and form up at the vector given. Go signal to be issued on the encrypted SSCU from Tangerine alfa." Strat acknowledged that Ecka was the more experienced of them, and so should give the go. "Vipers in Purple, launch in five, form on my ship, formation delta-33."
"Lads, lets get these supplies to Remley Station in time, and without pirate intervention. Be careful out there." Strat stalked out of the room, closely followed by his fellow Vipers.
Hortan stood and looked at the TPG group. "Ehm...lets move out." He tried to sound a bit like Strat, but only a vague croaking came out instead.
"All elements of Green, move out as ordered. Be at assembly the point in fifteen minutes." Surbius's voice cut through, and stuff happened. He leant towards Hortan, "You can do it, I have faith in you. And so has The Boss. Go show them, ok?"
Hortan stood and walked with the TPG group to the launch bays. His trusty Behemoth XC, the "Certain Death XXII" was painted in standard TGFT green. He entered the cockpit, made sure the EAPRS was active, went through launch procedure and flew to the assembly point. The XC was not at all sluggish for once. The weight of the medicinal supplies was negligible in comparison to the Heliocene ore that was normally freighted. He felt like a buck out on grass at spring. Not that he knew what a buck was, let alone spring, but he had read about it in one of those Itani education holo's, and it felt right.
The SSCU activated with Strats voice "Space is clear all the way to Latos wormhole interface. Route is GO." Ecka came online, "Tangerine is ready in Latos H-2. All clear. We have GO on convoy, repeat, GO on convoy. Purple initiate block of B-6, Tangerine will initiate on O-12. Acknowledge."
All combat flights called WILCO, and so did Hortan. The only one in Green flight with the coded SSCU, he further informed the TPG group and gave the order to jump. He initiated his own jump sequence. They were committed .
Ecka jumped first into Latos O-12, followed immediately by Surbius, Mor Isil, John Eldritch, Waldoze and Vardonx. The radar picture he received left him with only one thing to say. "Shait. Buddy pairs and engage." It seemed like all of CLM was out on one of their blockade operations. Talk about bad timing. He ticked the pie rats off, yoda, LNH, ferskingen, Azumi, Wittman, Swag Man, tramshed. And MysticRogue. He punched the SSCU, "What is the activity at your place Strat? I could use some fighters over here. All of CLM is here for the party."
"Roger, all quiet here, I'll leave one pair and come to your location. Inbound in 4 minutes. Out." Ecka smiled, he knew that if CLM was around, Strat would be here in less than that. He targeted LNH, knowing that Surbius would get the information and do the same. He sent a happy thought to Lambin and engaged local hail. "On tin hats..". If it wasn't for Lambins ill fated stunt with that cutlass, he would have missed the fun.
Hortan jumped into Latos H-2 with his nerves on the outside of his suit. Immediately pressing the sector list after entering, he came up empty. The remaining transport ships of the convoys jumped in as well.
"All clear to the station so far. Purple and Tangerine has engaged pie rats around Latos O-12, and so far we are doing well. The pie rats thinks that we are going that way, thus leaving a clear path to us. Stand-by for further update and order for GO." Somehow it was easier for Hortan to give orders when he couldn't see the others. He texted Ecka and requested permission for go. The reply was almost instantaneous, GO. Hortan initiated jump sequence and jumped towards sector M-9 with the rest of the convoy right after him. The slight detour was intended to avoid any ion-storms, and form the convoy up before jumping out.
Ardon received the message. "Forwarded message from Ferrin Galders: Right on, all of TGFT and VPR are here at the wormhole. CLM owes you one. End"
His hand trembled as he typed a message on his secure SSCU. MIRAGE. There, it was done. The order to initiate was sent, nothing to do now but wait. Wait and worry. He drank the remaining absinthe in his tumbler, leant back and closed his eyes.
The briefing room was packed. It was after all going to be a massive convoy with more than fifty pilots. The block of regulation issue light blue jumpsuits was the 38 Behemoth, Centaur and Atlas pilots from TPG to the front and left. To their right was the six pilots from TGFT in their green suits. Right behind them were six Vipers pilots, their yellow and purple suits adorned with a large viper, fangs ready, on the left shoulder and flight badge on the right. In front of the large screen was another Viper with the nametag Strat on his right side chest pocket.
"So, we are finally here, except for one TGFT pilot?" he asked. The leader of the TGFT group nodded. "Right, you have the route plan on your memsticks, with timings and jumpsequence. Anybody missing one, come see me afterwards. Hmm, let me see," he looked through his notes, "Oh yeah, last minute change. Pilot Hortan will lead the supply convoy, as Mr. Estenk will be flying escort duty on Tangerine flight. I will still lead Purple flight. Green leaders callsign will be unchanged, Green Alfa."
Hortan knew all this, but he, Strat and Ecka were probably the only ones. If anyone had any objections, it would be too late now, hence the secrecy.
"Right, Hortan, lead your flight out and form up at the vector given. Go signal to be issued on the encrypted SSCU from Tangerine alfa." Strat acknowledged that Ecka was the more experienced of them, and so should give the go. "Vipers in Purple, launch in five, form on my ship, formation delta-33."
"Lads, lets get these supplies to Remley Station in time, and without pirate intervention. Be careful out there." Strat stalked out of the room, closely followed by his fellow Vipers.
Hortan stood and looked at the TPG group. "Ehm...lets move out." He tried to sound a bit like Strat, but only a vague croaking came out instead.
"All elements of Green, move out as ordered. Be at assembly the point in fifteen minutes." Surbius's voice cut through, and stuff happened. He leant towards Hortan, "You can do it, I have faith in you. And so has The Boss. Go show them, ok?"
Hortan stood and walked with the TPG group to the launch bays. His trusty Behemoth XC, the "Certain Death XXII" was painted in standard TGFT green. He entered the cockpit, made sure the EAPRS was active, went through launch procedure and flew to the assembly point. The XC was not at all sluggish for once. The weight of the medicinal supplies was negligible in comparison to the Heliocene ore that was normally freighted. He felt like a buck out on grass at spring. Not that he knew what a buck was, let alone spring, but he had read about it in one of those Itani education holo's, and it felt right.
The SSCU activated with Strats voice "Space is clear all the way to Latos wormhole interface. Route is GO." Ecka came online, "Tangerine is ready in Latos H-2. All clear. We have GO on convoy, repeat, GO on convoy. Purple initiate block of B-6, Tangerine will initiate on O-12. Acknowledge."
All combat flights called WILCO, and so did Hortan. The only one in Green flight with the coded SSCU, he further informed the TPG group and gave the order to jump. He initiated his own jump sequence. They were committed .
Ecka jumped first into Latos O-12, followed immediately by Surbius, Mor Isil, John Eldritch, Waldoze and Vardonx. The radar picture he received left him with only one thing to say. "Shait. Buddy pairs and engage." It seemed like all of CLM was out on one of their blockade operations. Talk about bad timing. He ticked the pie rats off, yoda, LNH, ferskingen, Azumi, Wittman, Swag Man, tramshed. And MysticRogue. He punched the SSCU, "What is the activity at your place Strat? I could use some fighters over here. All of CLM is here for the party."
"Roger, all quiet here, I'll leave one pair and come to your location. Inbound in 4 minutes. Out." Ecka smiled, he knew that if CLM was around, Strat would be here in less than that. He targeted LNH, knowing that Surbius would get the information and do the same. He sent a happy thought to Lambin and engaged local hail. "On tin hats..". If it wasn't for Lambins ill fated stunt with that cutlass, he would have missed the fun.
Hortan jumped into Latos H-2 with his nerves on the outside of his suit. Immediately pressing the sector list after entering, he came up empty. The remaining transport ships of the convoys jumped in as well.
"All clear to the station so far. Purple and Tangerine has engaged pie rats around Latos O-12, and so far we are doing well. The pie rats thinks that we are going that way, thus leaving a clear path to us. Stand-by for further update and order for GO." Somehow it was easier for Hortan to give orders when he couldn't see the others. He texted Ecka and requested permission for go. The reply was almost instantaneous, GO. Hortan initiated jump sequence and jumped towards sector M-9 with the rest of the convoy right after him. The slight detour was intended to avoid any ion-storms, and form the convoy up before jumping out.
Ardon received the message. "Forwarded message from Ferrin Galders: Right on, all of TGFT and VPR are here at the wormhole. CLM owes you one. End"
His hand trembled as he typed a message on his secure SSCU. MIRAGE. There, it was done. The order to initiate was sent, nothing to do now but wait. Wait and worry. He drank the remaining absinthe in his tumbler, leant back and closed his eyes.
6. The dead tell no tales
Hortan re-entered normal space, expecting to find absolutely nothing. Or as close to nothing that complete vacuum and Heisenberg allows for. This was not it. The tumbling large roids right outside his XC were not supposed to be here. He had jumped into M-9 a lot of times before, and these roids were not supposed to be here. He looked down at the sector to check what had gone wrong, where they were. What the...
The radar was full of ships echoes, more than thirty of them. Fearing the worst, he started sweating badly and went for the SSCU switch. Maybe it was a coincidence? Instead of the SSCU, he punched up a sector list as his convoy started jumping in. A large PA convoy, he let his breath out, not aware that he had been holding it. PA, what are the odds, he thought and smiled. One of the lead ships in the PA convoy, a Warthog Mk II with the IFF responding as [PA]Mick, moved towards Hortans XC. Hortan knew Mick, he was a very capable combat pilot, and he was very feared in Sedina for his skills with the Vulture. Wait, what was Mick doing in a Hog Mk II? He started to open a private channel to the Hog, when the screen glared out and his instruments died. He initiated diagnostics immediately, but all his boards were dead. The only thing he could do was look out of the view screen at the unfolding horror scene outside.
The PA ships had closed with the convoy, and was starting to destroy the ships. The lightly armed and armoured cargo vessel stood no chance against the onslaught of neutron and positron fire from the fighters, several had already exploded. Hortan saw how the TPG ships were ejecting their cargo in order to accelerate more rapidly, but all for nothing. The Hogs and Cents chased them down and slaughtered each end every ship. After three minutes, Hortan was left alone with the PA ships, one of them, the [PA]Mick Warthog stationed outside. He heard a clank in the hull, and looked up to see the armoured visage of an EVA marine with the telltale rising Phoenix on his left arm.
Hortan felt a glimmer of hope, maybe they had made a mistake and were going to rescue him? The EVA marine anchored himself to the outside of the view screen, and unfolded a long thin device. Another unseen marine handed some kind of cable to the anchored marine, who connected it to the device. Hortan has seen one of those before, where was it now?
The marine pointed the device at the interface of the chainglass and the hull. A slight humming sounded from the glass. He remembered. He had seen it at Moda's place, it was an ultrasonic drill for making very small holes in extremely dense material. Like chainglass and xithicite armour. Why would they make holes in his canopy? The marine lifted the drill and pointed it to a location further along the glass. The humming resumed. Hortan felt where the marine had drilled before. A slight movement of air was barely detectable, but an experienced spacer such as Hortan knew what that meant. And it was all bad news. Decompression, they were going to slowly decompress his ship. He hit the chainglass to get their attention, even as he knew it would have no effect. He pushed his hand onto the small hole. The coldness of open space instantly froze the skin in a millimetre wide circle. He reached down to the next hole the marine had made, and pushed his other hand onto the hole. Seeing what Hortan was doing, the marine made another hole in front of Hortans face and waited. Hortan pushed his forehead against the hole and felt the cold hit him badly.
The marine moved out of Hortans reach and made three holes more before disengaging the nano power leach and abandoning the leaking vessel. He joined the other two marines of Alfa team and started jetting over to the Tunguska Marauder, He smiled inside his helmet. The look on the targets face when he bored the hole at the glass at his head was absolutely priceless. Pathetic beyond belief, the horror and fear at understanding what the marine was doing. Death slowly but surely.
He was proud of his men, they had performed flawlessly and efficiently. After the convoy had jumped in and the mayhem had started, they had jetted to the green XC and secured the escape hatch. Not that he had expected that the pilot inside would be trying to escape, but you never knew. They had unfolded the nano net on the escape door, enabling the leach to interface with the emergency powergrid. Then, they waited until the slaughtering had ended and the "PA" ships had left, apart from their own Marauder and the leaders Hog. They used the sonic drills and created the fake stress fractures on the green XC to make sure the person inside died without the APRS activating. Whoever thought of how to cheat the APRS was a real fiend he thought, normally it would activate upon catastrophic failure of the ship, but in this case the ship was in perfect condition. Except for the slow leaking of air, and the numbing coldness inside the cockpit.
He reached the rear of the Tunguska Marauder with his team mates. He grappled the handles outside the bay door and waited for his team to join him. He waived to the Hog and turned to initiate the airlock.
The marines were nicely lined up along the marauder. "[PA]Mick" lined his positron gun up on the engines of the marauder and fired without warning. The accelerated antimatter beams sliced through the armour plating as if it wasn't there at all, cutting deeply and eventually hitting the battery containment centre. The marauder exploded, flinging the marines away from the ship. He followed each of them, and with a slight touch of the trigger, he obliterated each man. Checking the sector for survivors, he found none. He activated the scanner and checked the green XC for leakage. Almost none now. So all the air had leaked now, killing prime alfa. He smiled, mission accomplished.
It had almost been too easy. He had placed the concussion mine on the side of the green XC, and when it went off, he had fired a short burst into the power coupler, effectively rendering the ship dead in space. The explosion had been the signal to engage for his pilots and the teams of EVA marines. He was proud that he had come up with the idea of using the specialised nano power leaches to drain the emergency power from the green XC. That they had been able to use this power for drilling holes in the ship was almost ironic in his mind.
Satisfied that the mission was a complete success, he activated the turbo and lined up for a jump to Latos M-9. Just before jumping, Fadhe texted the prepared message to Ardon: The fish is on land.
Ardon opened his eyes when the message beeped in. The fish is on land. He sighed with relief, they had eliminated prime alfa, and the convoy was destroyed. Step one had worked according to plan. He poured himself a large glass of absinthe with shaking hands. Now for step two. He drank deep of the glass and texted his contact in Dau K-10. He was going to eliminate all traces that could lead to him, and at the same time he was going to make sure the blame was placed directly where he could use it for his masterplan.
Hortan re-entered normal space, expecting to find absolutely nothing. Or as close to nothing that complete vacuum and Heisenberg allows for. This was not it. The tumbling large roids right outside his XC were not supposed to be here. He had jumped into M-9 a lot of times before, and these roids were not supposed to be here. He looked down at the sector to check what had gone wrong, where they were. What the...
The radar was full of ships echoes, more than thirty of them. Fearing the worst, he started sweating badly and went for the SSCU switch. Maybe it was a coincidence? Instead of the SSCU, he punched up a sector list as his convoy started jumping in. A large PA convoy, he let his breath out, not aware that he had been holding it. PA, what are the odds, he thought and smiled. One of the lead ships in the PA convoy, a Warthog Mk II with the IFF responding as [PA]Mick, moved towards Hortans XC. Hortan knew Mick, he was a very capable combat pilot, and he was very feared in Sedina for his skills with the Vulture. Wait, what was Mick doing in a Hog Mk II? He started to open a private channel to the Hog, when the screen glared out and his instruments died. He initiated diagnostics immediately, but all his boards were dead. The only thing he could do was look out of the view screen at the unfolding horror scene outside.
The PA ships had closed with the convoy, and was starting to destroy the ships. The lightly armed and armoured cargo vessel stood no chance against the onslaught of neutron and positron fire from the fighters, several had already exploded. Hortan saw how the TPG ships were ejecting their cargo in order to accelerate more rapidly, but all for nothing. The Hogs and Cents chased them down and slaughtered each end every ship. After three minutes, Hortan was left alone with the PA ships, one of them, the [PA]Mick Warthog stationed outside. He heard a clank in the hull, and looked up to see the armoured visage of an EVA marine with the telltale rising Phoenix on his left arm.
Hortan felt a glimmer of hope, maybe they had made a mistake and were going to rescue him? The EVA marine anchored himself to the outside of the view screen, and unfolded a long thin device. Another unseen marine handed some kind of cable to the anchored marine, who connected it to the device. Hortan has seen one of those before, where was it now?
The marine pointed the device at the interface of the chainglass and the hull. A slight humming sounded from the glass. He remembered. He had seen it at Moda's place, it was an ultrasonic drill for making very small holes in extremely dense material. Like chainglass and xithicite armour. Why would they make holes in his canopy? The marine lifted the drill and pointed it to a location further along the glass. The humming resumed. Hortan felt where the marine had drilled before. A slight movement of air was barely detectable, but an experienced spacer such as Hortan knew what that meant. And it was all bad news. Decompression, they were going to slowly decompress his ship. He hit the chainglass to get their attention, even as he knew it would have no effect. He pushed his hand onto the small hole. The coldness of open space instantly froze the skin in a millimetre wide circle. He reached down to the next hole the marine had made, and pushed his other hand onto the hole. Seeing what Hortan was doing, the marine made another hole in front of Hortans face and waited. Hortan pushed his forehead against the hole and felt the cold hit him badly.
The marine moved out of Hortans reach and made three holes more before disengaging the nano power leach and abandoning the leaking vessel. He joined the other two marines of Alfa team and started jetting over to the Tunguska Marauder, He smiled inside his helmet. The look on the targets face when he bored the hole at the glass at his head was absolutely priceless. Pathetic beyond belief, the horror and fear at understanding what the marine was doing. Death slowly but surely.
He was proud of his men, they had performed flawlessly and efficiently. After the convoy had jumped in and the mayhem had started, they had jetted to the green XC and secured the escape hatch. Not that he had expected that the pilot inside would be trying to escape, but you never knew. They had unfolded the nano net on the escape door, enabling the leach to interface with the emergency powergrid. Then, they waited until the slaughtering had ended and the "PA" ships had left, apart from their own Marauder and the leaders Hog. They used the sonic drills and created the fake stress fractures on the green XC to make sure the person inside died without the APRS activating. Whoever thought of how to cheat the APRS was a real fiend he thought, normally it would activate upon catastrophic failure of the ship, but in this case the ship was in perfect condition. Except for the slow leaking of air, and the numbing coldness inside the cockpit.
He reached the rear of the Tunguska Marauder with his team mates. He grappled the handles outside the bay door and waited for his team to join him. He waived to the Hog and turned to initiate the airlock.
The marines were nicely lined up along the marauder. "[PA]Mick" lined his positron gun up on the engines of the marauder and fired without warning. The accelerated antimatter beams sliced through the armour plating as if it wasn't there at all, cutting deeply and eventually hitting the battery containment centre. The marauder exploded, flinging the marines away from the ship. He followed each of them, and with a slight touch of the trigger, he obliterated each man. Checking the sector for survivors, he found none. He activated the scanner and checked the green XC for leakage. Almost none now. So all the air had leaked now, killing prime alfa. He smiled, mission accomplished.
It had almost been too easy. He had placed the concussion mine on the side of the green XC, and when it went off, he had fired a short burst into the power coupler, effectively rendering the ship dead in space. The explosion had been the signal to engage for his pilots and the teams of EVA marines. He was proud that he had come up with the idea of using the specialised nano power leaches to drain the emergency power from the green XC. That they had been able to use this power for drilling holes in the ship was almost ironic in his mind.
Satisfied that the mission was a complete success, he activated the turbo and lined up for a jump to Latos M-9. Just before jumping, Fadhe texted the prepared message to Ardon: The fish is on land.
Ardon opened his eyes when the message beeped in. The fish is on land. He sighed with relief, they had eliminated prime alfa, and the convoy was destroyed. Step one had worked according to plan. He poured himself a large glass of absinthe with shaking hands. Now for step two. He drank deep of the glass and texted his contact in Dau K-10. He was going to eliminate all traces that could lead to him, and at the same time he was going to make sure the blame was placed directly where he could use it for his masterplan.
OOC:
Just to clarify. The history is a figment of my own sick twisted warped mind. I take things that really happens in VO, and spin a yarn on that. Most of what is in the story is dreamt up. The table dancing was not:) Again, if you find yourself annoyed or misused, let me know.
Hort
Just to clarify. The history is a figment of my own sick twisted warped mind. I take things that really happens in VO, and spin a yarn on that. Most of what is in the story is dreamt up. The table dancing was not:) Again, if you find yourself annoyed or misused, let me know.
Hort
Finally done. This is really good Hortan! One question, is APRS the same as EAPRS? I sure hope not or I don't see how Hortan can escape :(
Remember how the EAPRS, as opposed to APRS triggers as soon as the Life support systems fail? Make up the rest by yourself ;)
-Pasquel
-Pasquel
7. As thing go south in a most delicious way
The door chimed to the secretly rented apartment of Cennoth Plabaru. He got out of his bed, and shuffled towards the door. He wondered who it could be, he wasn't expecting anyone at this hour. In reality, he wasn't expecting anyone, period . Nobody were supposed to know where he was staying. He had used a good deal of the money he had received for planting that practical joke in the NAVCOMCENT of TPG to ensure he couldn't be found for some time. He opened the door, and looked at the non-descript person clad in a jumpsuit with the rising phoenix on his chest.
"Mr. Plabaru? Mr Cannoth Plabaru?" the man asked, reading from a tablet.
"Ehm, yes, but who are, ehm, how do.." Cannoth was cut short by the angry buzzing of accelerated aluminium ions emanating from the top of the tablet. The man outside had aimed the tablet at Cannoths head, and the ions punched cleanly through the top of his skull, spraying the room behind in an interesting new colour called hint of brain. The man looked at his victim, took a photo with the tablet's camera, sent it to his employer. He then touched a couple of buttons on his tablet, tossed it into the room and moved on down the corridor.
When he had walked about thirty paces, a small explosion sounded from the room, and the fire alarms started blaring. He walked into the main corridor, turned to the closest restroom and went inside. He took the cubicle furthest down and unlocked the door with a coin. Inside was a duffel bag with a set of clothes. He changed and removed his wig, fake nose, fake chin and contact lenses. He tossed the jumpsuit and extras into the bag, exited the restroom and went to the nearest garbage collection point, where he dumped the duffel bag down the chute to the nano eaters. Mission accomplished, he went to grab something to eat. Even professional anarchists have to eat he mused.
Just as sudden as the combat had started, the fighters from CLM started to drift off. Only Azumi, Swag Man and tramshed kept coming back. Ecka was satisfied that the two combat flights had kept the attention away from the convoy. They should by now be safely docked at Remley Orbital.
"Tangerine, break off and disengage. Reform on Remley Orbital," he sent on the combat net. He could follow on the radar as the highly disciplined fighter pilots broke off and start boosting for jump distance.
"Purple stays on station for as long as it takes. We'll show these pie rats," Strat forced out between clenched teeth, as his light fighter made a 5 G turn to line the guns up perfectly on tramsheds fighter. The hard beams of neutron fire and explosion. With less strain in his voice he called Ecka again.
"If we are finished with the mission, I shall now recall the team from B-6. We can use them here." Ecka agreed, and Strat turned to watch the swirling combat 1800 meters away. Damn, he cursed silently. Han Shick and Vehement exploded silently under the combined guns of Swag Man and Azumi. Targeting Swag Man, he and Phaserlight boosted to engage. He sent an order for team Seta, the team at B-6, to jump to O-12 for combat mission. The battle was still wide open, but that would change once Seta Ralel and Maso arrived.
Inbound for docking at Remley Orbital, Ecka keyed the SSCU and asked for status from Hortan. They should all be docked now, and the cargo should be unloading as planned. No contact. Very odd he thought, and tested the system thoroughly. No faults. He sent a hail message to Hortans SSCU, but again, no contact. Slightly puzzled, he was about to ask Surbius to hail Hortan, when a red flagged priority message ticked in. He acknowledged, and the very agitated face of the trade councillor for TPG popped up in his HUD.
"Huh?" Ecka cursed himself for answering the call with such eloquence. But the councillor was not who he had expected on the SSCU, to say the least.
"Mr. Estenk, care to explain why I have 38 pilot lying here in the Immediate Recovery facility? Unless they chose to unload their cargo by exploding their ships that is?
"But, the, what?" Och, nice Ecka thought. Maybe I should find myself a shovel and dig a hole I could crawl into. Or maybe I should just get the foot out of my mouth.
"I have no clue. everything was proceeding as planned. I have had no messages about that at all. I'll investigate immediately and call back." Ecka cut the holo and turned his ship, signalling to the rest of the flight to follow. He opened a link to the TGFT Immediate Recovery facility and asked for a status. No pilots in. Right.
" Tangerine flight, we are now officially a Search and Rescue team. Surbius, refurbish with an EVA salvage team and an EVA paramedic team. Vardonx, you get a scanner and cover him. The rest follow me to sector M-9. We are looking for at least 38 exploded ships, and Hortans XC."
Eventually they found the remains of the convoy, and Hortans XC. It became apparent that something was seriously wrong when they had searched M-9 for about an hour without a single trace. Doing a spiral search from there was time consuming, but essential. More and more TGFT and VPR pilots joined the search until after eleven hours Creyn called in with a trace of xithricite dust in a roid field in K-12. After another hour they tracked down an ass over head tumbling TGFT green Behemoth XC. Fearing the worst, Surbius sent over the EVA paramedics to get Hortan out. The salvage team started securing the XC to the two Tunguska mining Marauders for tug boat duty back to TGFT HQ in Dau K-10. The paramedics cut the emergency door out after making an inflated bubble tent seal over it, thus making sure not to expose the pilot to the vacuum of space. When they drilled the first hole, the bubble tent collapsed inwards, as the vacuum inside the ship sucked the air out. When he saw that, Surbius cursed and looked down at his hands. He had promised Hortan that it would be ok, the young man had trusted in him, and now he was dead. He made a silent promise to pay the ones responsible back ten-fold.
"The XC is empty, no pilot." The voice of the paramedic crackled across the short distance. "The seat and mountings are gone as well. We'll wrap up here and seal for the forensics guys."
Ecka leant back and folded his hands across his chest, closed his eyes for ten seconds. Silent meditation, always worked best for thinking he felt. That and a wee dram. Och, he could do with some of that Phylatis Delicht Moda kept in the secret stash behind his R&D console. Slowly the wheels turning inside the ancient miners head started clicking into place, and with a sudden cry of "Shait", he literally punched the SSCU. The radio was filled with concerned voices that had heard the commander over the open net, but he ignored them completely.
"This is Moda's automatic reply service. I am currently busy with some very important research, leave topic and preferred times, and I'll call you"
Ecka focused all the power he had learned at TGFT command school, and growled into the SSCU. "Moda, you pick up now."
As proof of the respect Ecka commanded, Moda picked up almost immediately, his holo picture showing him in a flightsuit lightly covered in oil. "Sorry, Sir, I was changing hydraulics oil when you called, Sir."
"Did you use Hortan as testpilot on the EAPRS?"
"Affirmative Sir, that I did. Why?"
Ignoring the question and the unusual use of Sir, Ecka continued "Where is the recovery facility for it?"
"Ehm over in the back of the shop somewhere. I have meant to have it shipped down to Imme..."
Ecka cut him off with a very low voiced question, "Would you mind terribly, to shuffle over there and tell me what you find inside?"
"Sure Sir, stand by."
Ecka leant back. He hoped he was right on his hunch.
"Sir, Hortan is lying inside, he is sedated and out cold. He has some wicked looking sores on his hands and his head. I am requesting medical attention as we speak."
Ecka breathed a sigh of relief, maybe the young man was going to make it. At least now they could give him help. He cut out the SSCU and reached for the small emergency bottle to the left of his seat. After a wee dram, he called to the assembled pilots.
"Hortan is found. He is back at base, status unknown. I want all evidence here scooped up, and I want it delivered to Moda ASAP. The Guild will meet at 0800 station time tomorrow. No excuse possible. Surbius, with me, now."
Now he had to go to TPG and tell them that the convoy had been spattered across the vacuum. Not exactly how he fancied spending his afternoon.
The door chimed to the secretly rented apartment of Cennoth Plabaru. He got out of his bed, and shuffled towards the door. He wondered who it could be, he wasn't expecting anyone at this hour. In reality, he wasn't expecting anyone, period . Nobody were supposed to know where he was staying. He had used a good deal of the money he had received for planting that practical joke in the NAVCOMCENT of TPG to ensure he couldn't be found for some time. He opened the door, and looked at the non-descript person clad in a jumpsuit with the rising phoenix on his chest.
"Mr. Plabaru? Mr Cannoth Plabaru?" the man asked, reading from a tablet.
"Ehm, yes, but who are, ehm, how do.." Cannoth was cut short by the angry buzzing of accelerated aluminium ions emanating from the top of the tablet. The man outside had aimed the tablet at Cannoths head, and the ions punched cleanly through the top of his skull, spraying the room behind in an interesting new colour called hint of brain. The man looked at his victim, took a photo with the tablet's camera, sent it to his employer. He then touched a couple of buttons on his tablet, tossed it into the room and moved on down the corridor.
When he had walked about thirty paces, a small explosion sounded from the room, and the fire alarms started blaring. He walked into the main corridor, turned to the closest restroom and went inside. He took the cubicle furthest down and unlocked the door with a coin. Inside was a duffel bag with a set of clothes. He changed and removed his wig, fake nose, fake chin and contact lenses. He tossed the jumpsuit and extras into the bag, exited the restroom and went to the nearest garbage collection point, where he dumped the duffel bag down the chute to the nano eaters. Mission accomplished, he went to grab something to eat. Even professional anarchists have to eat he mused.
Just as sudden as the combat had started, the fighters from CLM started to drift off. Only Azumi, Swag Man and tramshed kept coming back. Ecka was satisfied that the two combat flights had kept the attention away from the convoy. They should by now be safely docked at Remley Orbital.
"Tangerine, break off and disengage. Reform on Remley Orbital," he sent on the combat net. He could follow on the radar as the highly disciplined fighter pilots broke off and start boosting for jump distance.
"Purple stays on station for as long as it takes. We'll show these pie rats," Strat forced out between clenched teeth, as his light fighter made a 5 G turn to line the guns up perfectly on tramsheds fighter. The hard beams of neutron fire and explosion. With less strain in his voice he called Ecka again.
"If we are finished with the mission, I shall now recall the team from B-6. We can use them here." Ecka agreed, and Strat turned to watch the swirling combat 1800 meters away. Damn, he cursed silently. Han Shick and Vehement exploded silently under the combined guns of Swag Man and Azumi. Targeting Swag Man, he and Phaserlight boosted to engage. He sent an order for team Seta, the team at B-6, to jump to O-12 for combat mission. The battle was still wide open, but that would change once Seta Ralel and Maso arrived.
Inbound for docking at Remley Orbital, Ecka keyed the SSCU and asked for status from Hortan. They should all be docked now, and the cargo should be unloading as planned. No contact. Very odd he thought, and tested the system thoroughly. No faults. He sent a hail message to Hortans SSCU, but again, no contact. Slightly puzzled, he was about to ask Surbius to hail Hortan, when a red flagged priority message ticked in. He acknowledged, and the very agitated face of the trade councillor for TPG popped up in his HUD.
"Huh?" Ecka cursed himself for answering the call with such eloquence. But the councillor was not who he had expected on the SSCU, to say the least.
"Mr. Estenk, care to explain why I have 38 pilot lying here in the Immediate Recovery facility? Unless they chose to unload their cargo by exploding their ships that is?
"But, the, what?" Och, nice Ecka thought. Maybe I should find myself a shovel and dig a hole I could crawl into. Or maybe I should just get the foot out of my mouth.
"I have no clue. everything was proceeding as planned. I have had no messages about that at all. I'll investigate immediately and call back." Ecka cut the holo and turned his ship, signalling to the rest of the flight to follow. He opened a link to the TGFT Immediate Recovery facility and asked for a status. No pilots in. Right.
" Tangerine flight, we are now officially a Search and Rescue team. Surbius, refurbish with an EVA salvage team and an EVA paramedic team. Vardonx, you get a scanner and cover him. The rest follow me to sector M-9. We are looking for at least 38 exploded ships, and Hortans XC."
Eventually they found the remains of the convoy, and Hortans XC. It became apparent that something was seriously wrong when they had searched M-9 for about an hour without a single trace. Doing a spiral search from there was time consuming, but essential. More and more TGFT and VPR pilots joined the search until after eleven hours Creyn called in with a trace of xithricite dust in a roid field in K-12. After another hour they tracked down an ass over head tumbling TGFT green Behemoth XC. Fearing the worst, Surbius sent over the EVA paramedics to get Hortan out. The salvage team started securing the XC to the two Tunguska mining Marauders for tug boat duty back to TGFT HQ in Dau K-10. The paramedics cut the emergency door out after making an inflated bubble tent seal over it, thus making sure not to expose the pilot to the vacuum of space. When they drilled the first hole, the bubble tent collapsed inwards, as the vacuum inside the ship sucked the air out. When he saw that, Surbius cursed and looked down at his hands. He had promised Hortan that it would be ok, the young man had trusted in him, and now he was dead. He made a silent promise to pay the ones responsible back ten-fold.
"The XC is empty, no pilot." The voice of the paramedic crackled across the short distance. "The seat and mountings are gone as well. We'll wrap up here and seal for the forensics guys."
Ecka leant back and folded his hands across his chest, closed his eyes for ten seconds. Silent meditation, always worked best for thinking he felt. That and a wee dram. Och, he could do with some of that Phylatis Delicht Moda kept in the secret stash behind his R&D console. Slowly the wheels turning inside the ancient miners head started clicking into place, and with a sudden cry of "Shait", he literally punched the SSCU. The radio was filled with concerned voices that had heard the commander over the open net, but he ignored them completely.
"This is Moda's automatic reply service. I am currently busy with some very important research, leave topic and preferred times, and I'll call you"
Ecka focused all the power he had learned at TGFT command school, and growled into the SSCU. "Moda, you pick up now."
As proof of the respect Ecka commanded, Moda picked up almost immediately, his holo picture showing him in a flightsuit lightly covered in oil. "Sorry, Sir, I was changing hydraulics oil when you called, Sir."
"Did you use Hortan as testpilot on the EAPRS?"
"Affirmative Sir, that I did. Why?"
Ignoring the question and the unusual use of Sir, Ecka continued "Where is the recovery facility for it?"
"Ehm over in the back of the shop somewhere. I have meant to have it shipped down to Imme..."
Ecka cut him off with a very low voiced question, "Would you mind terribly, to shuffle over there and tell me what you find inside?"
"Sure Sir, stand by."
Ecka leant back. He hoped he was right on his hunch.
"Sir, Hortan is lying inside, he is sedated and out cold. He has some wicked looking sores on his hands and his head. I am requesting medical attention as we speak."
Ecka breathed a sigh of relief, maybe the young man was going to make it. At least now they could give him help. He cut out the SSCU and reached for the small emergency bottle to the left of his seat. After a wee dram, he called to the assembled pilots.
"Hortan is found. He is back at base, status unknown. I want all evidence here scooped up, and I want it delivered to Moda ASAP. The Guild will meet at 0800 station time tomorrow. No excuse possible. Surbius, with me, now."
Now he had to go to TPG and tell them that the convoy had been spattered across the vacuum. Not exactly how he fancied spending his afternoon.
8. Ultimatum time
The TPG trade councillors office was very large, including its own chainglass window to show the docking bays. Probably the room with the highest ceiling apart from the working areas, it was meant to impress. More than one deep spacer had had bouts of agoraphobia inside. Ecka still felt the walls and ceiling closing on him as he was being grilled by the furious councillor.
"The relationship between the guild of free traders and The Propeller Group, " you could hear how he was emphasising the size difference, " has been damaged immensely by this lack of protection. I give you 72 hours to come up with an explanation, or I will file a lawsuit to cover our losses. Any news and any contact will be to the security council. You. Are Dismissed." The last came out not as a sentence but as single words, the contempt barely contained.
Ecka turned and left without a single word. Surbius waited in the reception, and without a single word he got up and followed his commander. Once outside of TPG controlled area, Ecka finally lost his self control and punched his fist into the bulkhead, rupturing the plastic and burying his hand to above the wrist. Snarling he pulled his fist out and picked a plastic fragment that had stuck between his knuckles.
"I must say, I am impressed," Surbius said. "I wasn't sure you were going to make it this far."
Ecka looked at Surbius who held out a small hip flask. He took the flask and drank deep from it. Helio Mists, balm to the soul. Somewhat calmer, he looked at Surbius.
"We need information, and we need it now. Do you have anything from Moda yet?"
Surbius looked at the now empty flask and re-pocketed it. "No, he is going over it as we speak with Zathras. They think they can jury rig the black box and get the footage up to the powerout."
"And Hortan? Is he awake?"
"No, the psychologist insisted to keep him sedated for now. I had to listen to him reprimanding me, as he thinks I had pushed Hortan into flying. So until necessity dictates otherwise, I am going to keep him under."
Ecka was not happy with that, but he trusted in the opinions of his specialists. They walked down to Modas hangar, and entered the large hall. Silent, so very unusual Ecka thought. Only a fizzle and crack came from the left of the hall. They went over to find Zathras bent over a holodisplay, wires in all directions.
"I need information, and I need it now," Ecka growled. Zathras looked up, startled and bumped his head into the compartment above the holodisplay.
"Oh, yes, sorry. We have some information, but none of it is good I'm afraid," Zathras replied. He looked over behind Surbius and called for Moda.
"Anything is valuable right now," Surbius smiled reassuringly at Zathras.
Moda came over and sat in his favourite chair.
"Ok, Zath show them the holo."
Zathras activated the recording. Ecka stood in silence as he saw the [PA]Mick warthog fly to the XC.
Moda stood and pointed to the collection of space debris spread on the floor. "In the wreckage, we have found one armour plate with what looks like a bonfire with what may be a wing in flames. And one of the suit pieces have the letter "iance" in flames written on the shoulder. I can only see one suggestion, however impossible it sounds. The Phoenix Alliance."
Ecka grimaced, surely this was not true. Surely it could be explained by....he drew a blank.
"Thank you gentlemen. Good work so far. I need a copy of the recording and you findings in writing ten minutes ago. Surbius, call the PA liaison office for a meeting in the OPS cell. No subject, I want her to be unprepared." He walked out of the hangar. If Modas findings were correct, they were in deep trouble.
The small PDA chimed twice, making Tohasandra Chi drop to neutral stance. Her close combat instructor did the same. Sometimes during practice the instructor would have set his own PDA to call Chi's during training, and so maybe throw Chi's concentration. All part of the Krav Maga training he said. But two fast chimes meant TGFT. And he had never messed with that. She walked over to take the call. Puzzled, she looked back at her instructor.
"Sorry, we have to finish another day. Business. I have been summoned by Ecka"
John Eldritch nodded. He would have liked to train some more, the strain in his back from yesterdays marathon combat patrol was aching badly, but the Boss was not to keep waiting. Especially not for the PA liaison.
"Just say when Ms. Chi, you know how to reach me." He went to the free weights and looked for the 75 pounders.
Chi looked at John and smiled. She had almost had him this time. Next time there would be no mercy. She went to her room and changed to regulation flightsuit. The proud rising phoenix on the right side of her chest, her nametag on the left and her lieutenants stars on her slender shoulders looked good on her, and she walked with all the confidence of a major guild official. The OPS room was strangely silent and empty. Only Ecka in his chair. Strange, she thought. This was the first time ever she had seen the OPS room empty.
"Hi Ecka, so what is so urgent?" she asked cheerily.
Ecka merely pointed to a chair. Once she had seated herself he activated the holo screen in the centre of the room. Pictures of the tumbling XC, hurt and sedated Hortan, the [PA]Mick Warthog, the debris..
"Feel free to break in with an explanation at any time councillor." Ecka's voice rasped, the anger only barely contained.
"I am not sure.." Chi started, "I mean, this must be fabricated. Is this some kind of joke?" she asked and looked at Ecka. The look on his face suggested otherwise. Actually, she now had an idea of how it felt to be a mouse sitting in front of an Eo Pit Viper. Ecka looked directly into her eyes.
"I have a copy for you to present for your council. I suggest you move fast. I need proof that PA did not do this within 24 hours, or you can consider the guild KOS. Yourself included. If you have questions, consult Surbius. Dismissed."
Chi rose as if in a daze. All of PA KOS? Something was fishy. She accepted the disc and practically ran to her cubicle to open a secure channel to PA HQ.
The TPG trade councillors office was very large, including its own chainglass window to show the docking bays. Probably the room with the highest ceiling apart from the working areas, it was meant to impress. More than one deep spacer had had bouts of agoraphobia inside. Ecka still felt the walls and ceiling closing on him as he was being grilled by the furious councillor.
"The relationship between the guild of free traders and The Propeller Group, " you could hear how he was emphasising the size difference, " has been damaged immensely by this lack of protection. I give you 72 hours to come up with an explanation, or I will file a lawsuit to cover our losses. Any news and any contact will be to the security council. You. Are Dismissed." The last came out not as a sentence but as single words, the contempt barely contained.
Ecka turned and left without a single word. Surbius waited in the reception, and without a single word he got up and followed his commander. Once outside of TPG controlled area, Ecka finally lost his self control and punched his fist into the bulkhead, rupturing the plastic and burying his hand to above the wrist. Snarling he pulled his fist out and picked a plastic fragment that had stuck between his knuckles.
"I must say, I am impressed," Surbius said. "I wasn't sure you were going to make it this far."
Ecka looked at Surbius who held out a small hip flask. He took the flask and drank deep from it. Helio Mists, balm to the soul. Somewhat calmer, he looked at Surbius.
"We need information, and we need it now. Do you have anything from Moda yet?"
Surbius looked at the now empty flask and re-pocketed it. "No, he is going over it as we speak with Zathras. They think they can jury rig the black box and get the footage up to the powerout."
"And Hortan? Is he awake?"
"No, the psychologist insisted to keep him sedated for now. I had to listen to him reprimanding me, as he thinks I had pushed Hortan into flying. So until necessity dictates otherwise, I am going to keep him under."
Ecka was not happy with that, but he trusted in the opinions of his specialists. They walked down to Modas hangar, and entered the large hall. Silent, so very unusual Ecka thought. Only a fizzle and crack came from the left of the hall. They went over to find Zathras bent over a holodisplay, wires in all directions.
"I need information, and I need it now," Ecka growled. Zathras looked up, startled and bumped his head into the compartment above the holodisplay.
"Oh, yes, sorry. We have some information, but none of it is good I'm afraid," Zathras replied. He looked over behind Surbius and called for Moda.
"Anything is valuable right now," Surbius smiled reassuringly at Zathras.
Moda came over and sat in his favourite chair.
"Ok, Zath show them the holo."
Zathras activated the recording. Ecka stood in silence as he saw the [PA]Mick warthog fly to the XC.
Moda stood and pointed to the collection of space debris spread on the floor. "In the wreckage, we have found one armour plate with what looks like a bonfire with what may be a wing in flames. And one of the suit pieces have the letter "iance" in flames written on the shoulder. I can only see one suggestion, however impossible it sounds. The Phoenix Alliance."
Ecka grimaced, surely this was not true. Surely it could be explained by....he drew a blank.
"Thank you gentlemen. Good work so far. I need a copy of the recording and you findings in writing ten minutes ago. Surbius, call the PA liaison office for a meeting in the OPS cell. No subject, I want her to be unprepared." He walked out of the hangar. If Modas findings were correct, they were in deep trouble.
The small PDA chimed twice, making Tohasandra Chi drop to neutral stance. Her close combat instructor did the same. Sometimes during practice the instructor would have set his own PDA to call Chi's during training, and so maybe throw Chi's concentration. All part of the Krav Maga training he said. But two fast chimes meant TGFT. And he had never messed with that. She walked over to take the call. Puzzled, she looked back at her instructor.
"Sorry, we have to finish another day. Business. I have been summoned by Ecka"
John Eldritch nodded. He would have liked to train some more, the strain in his back from yesterdays marathon combat patrol was aching badly, but the Boss was not to keep waiting. Especially not for the PA liaison.
"Just say when Ms. Chi, you know how to reach me." He went to the free weights and looked for the 75 pounders.
Chi looked at John and smiled. She had almost had him this time. Next time there would be no mercy. She went to her room and changed to regulation flightsuit. The proud rising phoenix on the right side of her chest, her nametag on the left and her lieutenants stars on her slender shoulders looked good on her, and she walked with all the confidence of a major guild official. The OPS room was strangely silent and empty. Only Ecka in his chair. Strange, she thought. This was the first time ever she had seen the OPS room empty.
"Hi Ecka, so what is so urgent?" she asked cheerily.
Ecka merely pointed to a chair. Once she had seated herself he activated the holo screen in the centre of the room. Pictures of the tumbling XC, hurt and sedated Hortan, the [PA]Mick Warthog, the debris..
"Feel free to break in with an explanation at any time councillor." Ecka's voice rasped, the anger only barely contained.
"I am not sure.." Chi started, "I mean, this must be fabricated. Is this some kind of joke?" she asked and looked at Ecka. The look on his face suggested otherwise. Actually, she now had an idea of how it felt to be a mouse sitting in front of an Eo Pit Viper. Ecka looked directly into her eyes.
"I have a copy for you to present for your council. I suggest you move fast. I need proof that PA did not do this within 24 hours, or you can consider the guild KOS. Yourself included. If you have questions, consult Surbius. Dismissed."
Chi rose as if in a daze. All of PA KOS? Something was fishy. She accepted the disc and practically ran to her cubicle to open a secure channel to PA HQ.
As councilman in good standing with PA I can assure you Mick had nothing to with these egregious actions.
HA! sounded official like huh seriously very nice Whytee I'm lovin it.
HA! sounded official like huh seriously very nice Whytee I'm lovin it.
[OOC Great story, Hort! Just one small error: Chi is now Lieutenant, not Council. Just a heads-up :).]
Denji
Denji
9. A visit to a friend
Miexon turned to NP.
"As you can see on the footage, somebody set us up. I need you to do three things. First, find proof that is wasn't us. Second, help find out who did this. And third, retaliate. You have full support from the council." Miexon closed the holo that had been running in the background.
"Very well Sir, I will need to go to Dau myself and debrief this Hortan. I will need the support of the INTEL department, and of course nothing like this is ever cheap." NP's experience with undercover work told him that he would need a crapload of money actually.
"You have the guild's purse, and my authority. I cannot let you go to Dau, as we temporarily have no docking permission. You have lieutenant Chi on station. I cannot overstate the importance of clearing the PA name. Solve it please." Miexon waved his hand, and NP was dismissed.
As chief of the covert intelligence agency of PA, NP had long experience in finding out exactly what truths were hidden behind the information that he received on his desk. He knew for certain that it couldn't be PA. Nothing in PA escaped the spy-master, especially not a stunt as big as this one. Whoever did this, was good. He smiled as he walked to the most secure part of PA HQ. A worthy adversary maybe. His brain was already making lists of what to do.
Chi shook her head in disbelief and closed the secure message from NP. How was she going to interview Hortan? He was kept sedated in his room, with a TGFT guard outside. What did they think she were, some kind of ninja/agent? Sighing, she took a broad spectrum anti toxin and some quick action MAO inhibiters. You never knew what state he would be in when she awoke him.
She dressed in a nurses outfit and a blonde wig, and went down to the corridor where Hortan lived. She peered down the corridor. A lone guard was standing outside, looking very young and very bored. Maybe this would work after all she mused. She dripped her eyes with an eyebalm to make her eyes become moist in a minute, walked up to the door and motioned for the guard to open the door.
"Sorry Ms, but I am not allowed to let anyone in. Orders from Surbius himself." He looked unsecure, and so Chi decided to turn up the charm. She looked up at his face.
"But I have been told that the patient need to get his medicine, and he said that it was important, and he trusted me, and I forgot the papers, and what shall I do, and how can I explain.." Chi let her mouth run with halfway coherent sentences, while looking like she was about to cry.
"Hey now, ok Ms, I guess if he needs his medication and all. Don't cry is all, ok?" The guard wiped a tear away from her left eye and opened the door.
Men, they are so easy Chi thought as she closed the door behind her. She looked around in Hortans room. Nothing much had changed since she was here last. The framed picture of The Huntress was still on the wall, and the John Eldritch Action figure was placed standing with a foot in the face of a some kind of monstrous creature. Hortan himself was lying on his bed. Chi was startled by the discolouration on his forehead, the transparent bandage showing the centimetre wide hole through the skin and flesh all the way to the bone beneath. Shuddering slightly, she took the anti toxin and injected it into Hortans arm. Nothing to do but wait now.
Hortan awoke to the sight of a pretty blonde nurse sitting next to him. His head and hands felt like they were on fire, and when he lifted his arms, he could see both hands covered in transparent bandages. They were all black. He looked in panic at the nurse.
Chi realised that Hortan didn't recognise her, and so took the wig off.
"Ms. Chi" he smiled, "You look better without the wig. Do you know why my hands look like this?"
Chi smiled back. Polite, always polite even when in obvious pain.
"Hortan, you were attacked in a convoy, can you tell me about it?"
The full onslaught of remembering hit Hortan, and he started to fade away again in denial, the memory too hard on his fragile mind. He started to turn towards the wall. Chi intercepted him and pressed the inhalator into Hortans mouth while triggering the MAO inhibitor. It worked almost instantly.
"Why did PA attack us? And why did they want to kill me? And..." Chi interrupted him with a soft finger on his lips.
"Shh, start at the beginning, and I'll find out."
Hortan looked at Chi. He had trusted her before, and she had helped him then. He started talking. Fifteen minutes later, he had told the unbelievable story. If it had been another person, she would have been inclined to disbelieve, but she knew that Hortan never lied. Ever. She tugged him in, gave him some sedative to make him go to sleep, and watched as he closed his eyes again before going to the door. Cursing herself for almost blowing it, she went back to get her wig, and went outside again. The guard had been replaced. Leaning against the wall was John Eldritch. He looked at her.
"Care to explain Chi?"
Surbius's PDA chimed just as he was bout to take another bite of his NiceSoy™ stir-fry meal. No rest for the wicked he thought, wiped his mouth in the napkin and answered with a curt "Yes!"
"I have some information you might want to have Surb. Bring a secure SSCU. My cubicle." Johns voice sounded decidedly cheerful.
NP was humming tunelessly as he reviewed the classified TPG Police Force file. So the homicide case that turned out to be the missing TPG pilot, had received a transfer of 1 million credits three days ago. From a Corvus credstick, untraceable. Ha, to someone else perhaps. He smiled and opened the other file he had received some minutes ago. Interesting, the credstick was bought using an UIT government account. He wondered what else had been bought from that account.
Miexon turned to NP.
"As you can see on the footage, somebody set us up. I need you to do three things. First, find proof that is wasn't us. Second, help find out who did this. And third, retaliate. You have full support from the council." Miexon closed the holo that had been running in the background.
"Very well Sir, I will need to go to Dau myself and debrief this Hortan. I will need the support of the INTEL department, and of course nothing like this is ever cheap." NP's experience with undercover work told him that he would need a crapload of money actually.
"You have the guild's purse, and my authority. I cannot let you go to Dau, as we temporarily have no docking permission. You have lieutenant Chi on station. I cannot overstate the importance of clearing the PA name. Solve it please." Miexon waved his hand, and NP was dismissed.
As chief of the covert intelligence agency of PA, NP had long experience in finding out exactly what truths were hidden behind the information that he received on his desk. He knew for certain that it couldn't be PA. Nothing in PA escaped the spy-master, especially not a stunt as big as this one. Whoever did this, was good. He smiled as he walked to the most secure part of PA HQ. A worthy adversary maybe. His brain was already making lists of what to do.
Chi shook her head in disbelief and closed the secure message from NP. How was she going to interview Hortan? He was kept sedated in his room, with a TGFT guard outside. What did they think she were, some kind of ninja/agent? Sighing, she took a broad spectrum anti toxin and some quick action MAO inhibiters. You never knew what state he would be in when she awoke him.
She dressed in a nurses outfit and a blonde wig, and went down to the corridor where Hortan lived. She peered down the corridor. A lone guard was standing outside, looking very young and very bored. Maybe this would work after all she mused. She dripped her eyes with an eyebalm to make her eyes become moist in a minute, walked up to the door and motioned for the guard to open the door.
"Sorry Ms, but I am not allowed to let anyone in. Orders from Surbius himself." He looked unsecure, and so Chi decided to turn up the charm. She looked up at his face.
"But I have been told that the patient need to get his medicine, and he said that it was important, and he trusted me, and I forgot the papers, and what shall I do, and how can I explain.." Chi let her mouth run with halfway coherent sentences, while looking like she was about to cry.
"Hey now, ok Ms, I guess if he needs his medication and all. Don't cry is all, ok?" The guard wiped a tear away from her left eye and opened the door.
Men, they are so easy Chi thought as she closed the door behind her. She looked around in Hortans room. Nothing much had changed since she was here last. The framed picture of The Huntress was still on the wall, and the John Eldritch Action figure was placed standing with a foot in the face of a some kind of monstrous creature. Hortan himself was lying on his bed. Chi was startled by the discolouration on his forehead, the transparent bandage showing the centimetre wide hole through the skin and flesh all the way to the bone beneath. Shuddering slightly, she took the anti toxin and injected it into Hortans arm. Nothing to do but wait now.
Hortan awoke to the sight of a pretty blonde nurse sitting next to him. His head and hands felt like they were on fire, and when he lifted his arms, he could see both hands covered in transparent bandages. They were all black. He looked in panic at the nurse.
Chi realised that Hortan didn't recognise her, and so took the wig off.
"Ms. Chi" he smiled, "You look better without the wig. Do you know why my hands look like this?"
Chi smiled back. Polite, always polite even when in obvious pain.
"Hortan, you were attacked in a convoy, can you tell me about it?"
The full onslaught of remembering hit Hortan, and he started to fade away again in denial, the memory too hard on his fragile mind. He started to turn towards the wall. Chi intercepted him and pressed the inhalator into Hortans mouth while triggering the MAO inhibitor. It worked almost instantly.
"Why did PA attack us? And why did they want to kill me? And..." Chi interrupted him with a soft finger on his lips.
"Shh, start at the beginning, and I'll find out."
Hortan looked at Chi. He had trusted her before, and she had helped him then. He started talking. Fifteen minutes later, he had told the unbelievable story. If it had been another person, she would have been inclined to disbelieve, but she knew that Hortan never lied. Ever. She tugged him in, gave him some sedative to make him go to sleep, and watched as he closed his eyes again before going to the door. Cursing herself for almost blowing it, she went back to get her wig, and went outside again. The guard had been replaced. Leaning against the wall was John Eldritch. He looked at her.
"Care to explain Chi?"
Surbius's PDA chimed just as he was bout to take another bite of his NiceSoy™ stir-fry meal. No rest for the wicked he thought, wiped his mouth in the napkin and answered with a curt "Yes!"
"I have some information you might want to have Surb. Bring a secure SSCU. My cubicle." Johns voice sounded decidedly cheerful.
NP was humming tunelessly as he reviewed the classified TPG Police Force file. So the homicide case that turned out to be the missing TPG pilot, had received a transfer of 1 million credits three days ago. From a Corvus credstick, untraceable. Ha, to someone else perhaps. He smiled and opened the other file he had received some minutes ago. Interesting, the credstick was bought using an UIT government account. He wondered what else had been bought from that account.