Forums » Role Playing
The capsule arrived in Pelatus Bunker without a return address, bearing a delivery chip to, strangely, the "HVAC" System on Deck 6. Even more strangely, no one had seen which ship it arrived on. It hovered on anti-grav lifts silently in the middle of the cargo bay.
"Marty, comm'ere an lookit dis..." The scrawny dockworker known as "Rats" said, pawing over the smooth, 7' tall capsule.
"Rats, I told ya to NEVER touch the Merchandise!" Marty shoved Rats out of the way and suddenly stopped when he saw the capsule. He gave it a quick scan with the biochemrad-monitor, and it was not emitting anything harmful, and inside was essentially amino acids and water, along with some electronic monitoring equipment. Some kind of bio stasis device, he assumed. Regardless, he gave it a "pass" rating for quarantine.
"Wha'ssit boss?" Rats said, looking up at his superior with inquisitive eyes. "Why's it goin ta the HVAC equipment?"
Marty looked over the seemingly weightless capsule, no seams, just a thumbprint identifier on the outside, and the delivery chip. It looked like a 7' long tic-tac, those old-Earth minty breath treats. As a test, he mashed his thumb onto the identifier; Rats scampered back a few paces just in case.
"Unauthorized Access." The Capsule said. "Please Deliver to HVAC system, Deck 6, Pelatus Bunker."
"Sees? Sees?" Rats whimpered, "It wannas ta go t' Deck 6, it does! LOOK!" Rats pointed at the capsule, which rotated longitudinally slowly until it was horizontal three feet above the ground, and proceeded to float towards the cargo lifts.
"Boss! It's be a ghost crate!" Rats exclaimed and cowered under several stacks of Ion Cores. "'member the storiez? Deck 6 's hauntsed! Food disappears! Noises in the walls! Creepsy soundses!"
"That's enough outta you!" Marty said, cautiously following the hovering crate as it moved into the lift. "You stay 'ere, Rats, and mind the other crates! I'm followin' this thing."
Rats nodded in enthusiastic agreement with Marty's plan, and silently wet himself as the cargo lift doors closed.
Inside the cargo lift, the capsule hovered next to Marty, and the lift began to move up to the service corridor of Deck 6. He drew his service blaster as the Deck 6 doors opened, and the capsule floated slowly out of the lift and down one of the HVAC access corridors.
Marty followed cautiously. Rats had been right, something wasn't kosher on this deck, there had been stories of moaning sounds coming from the HVAC equipment, but technicians could never find anything. Once they had seen "something" and tried to hunt it down, attempting to burn it up with the heating equipment itself, but they had never found anything. There was certainly no "ghost", but personally, Marty did find this section of the station rather dark and... creepy.
The capsule floated to a stop underneath a large access grate of the HVAC system itself. The ductwork wound everywhere on this deck, maze-like in its design. If you got lost in these ducts, you'd never get out, Marty thought.
"Please open access port." The capsule said in its smooth electronic voice.
Marty unscrewed the access grate, breaking off rust to get at the ancient screws, and the grate fell to the floor with an echoing clang.
"Thank you for this delivery, dockworker JS-766." The capsule slided up into the ductwork, which looked like it could barely accomodate the circumference, and vanished into the darkness of the HVAC system.
Marty's communicator indicated that he'd just received 10,000 credits. He marvelled at the amount for a simple delivery, replaced the grate, and made his way back through the dripping access corridor, down the service lift and back into the cargo bay.
Rats looked surprised to see him, "Boss! Ya made it! 'ow didja fare?" He said through wide eyes. A crowd of the other cargo workers had gathered to listen to Rats relate the current event.
"I made out just fine, Rats. Just fine. Now let's get those Ion Cores loaded! I ain't payin 'ya ta watch my back! Oh, and Rats, do us all a favor and go change." The crowd gave a low collective chuckle and returned to their daily tasks. Marty sure as hell wasn't about to tell anyone about the 10,000 credits he had just received for his little walk.
Meanwhile, the capsule glided to a silent halt underneath one of the Heat exchangers on deck 6. The constant water drip from the coils changed tone as they began to impact on the surface of the capsule, instead of on the rusted catchbasin floor. It settled onto the ground and made a few electronic noises before awaiting the acknowledgement that would begin the clone construction process and release the internal atmosphere. "Stage I delivery complete." It beeped.
Someone or something rustled in the corner, becoming aware of an intruder in its realm...
"Marty, comm'ere an lookit dis..." The scrawny dockworker known as "Rats" said, pawing over the smooth, 7' tall capsule.
"Rats, I told ya to NEVER touch the Merchandise!" Marty shoved Rats out of the way and suddenly stopped when he saw the capsule. He gave it a quick scan with the biochemrad-monitor, and it was not emitting anything harmful, and inside was essentially amino acids and water, along with some electronic monitoring equipment. Some kind of bio stasis device, he assumed. Regardless, he gave it a "pass" rating for quarantine.
"Wha'ssit boss?" Rats said, looking up at his superior with inquisitive eyes. "Why's it goin ta the HVAC equipment?"
Marty looked over the seemingly weightless capsule, no seams, just a thumbprint identifier on the outside, and the delivery chip. It looked like a 7' long tic-tac, those old-Earth minty breath treats. As a test, he mashed his thumb onto the identifier; Rats scampered back a few paces just in case.
"Unauthorized Access." The Capsule said. "Please Deliver to HVAC system, Deck 6, Pelatus Bunker."
"Sees? Sees?" Rats whimpered, "It wannas ta go t' Deck 6, it does! LOOK!" Rats pointed at the capsule, which rotated longitudinally slowly until it was horizontal three feet above the ground, and proceeded to float towards the cargo lifts.
"Boss! It's be a ghost crate!" Rats exclaimed and cowered under several stacks of Ion Cores. "'member the storiez? Deck 6 's hauntsed! Food disappears! Noises in the walls! Creepsy soundses!"
"That's enough outta you!" Marty said, cautiously following the hovering crate as it moved into the lift. "You stay 'ere, Rats, and mind the other crates! I'm followin' this thing."
Rats nodded in enthusiastic agreement with Marty's plan, and silently wet himself as the cargo lift doors closed.
Inside the cargo lift, the capsule hovered next to Marty, and the lift began to move up to the service corridor of Deck 6. He drew his service blaster as the Deck 6 doors opened, and the capsule floated slowly out of the lift and down one of the HVAC access corridors.
Marty followed cautiously. Rats had been right, something wasn't kosher on this deck, there had been stories of moaning sounds coming from the HVAC equipment, but technicians could never find anything. Once they had seen "something" and tried to hunt it down, attempting to burn it up with the heating equipment itself, but they had never found anything. There was certainly no "ghost", but personally, Marty did find this section of the station rather dark and... creepy.
The capsule floated to a stop underneath a large access grate of the HVAC system itself. The ductwork wound everywhere on this deck, maze-like in its design. If you got lost in these ducts, you'd never get out, Marty thought.
"Please open access port." The capsule said in its smooth electronic voice.
Marty unscrewed the access grate, breaking off rust to get at the ancient screws, and the grate fell to the floor with an echoing clang.
"Thank you for this delivery, dockworker JS-766." The capsule slided up into the ductwork, which looked like it could barely accomodate the circumference, and vanished into the darkness of the HVAC system.
Marty's communicator indicated that he'd just received 10,000 credits. He marvelled at the amount for a simple delivery, replaced the grate, and made his way back through the dripping access corridor, down the service lift and back into the cargo bay.
Rats looked surprised to see him, "Boss! Ya made it! 'ow didja fare?" He said through wide eyes. A crowd of the other cargo workers had gathered to listen to Rats relate the current event.
"I made out just fine, Rats. Just fine. Now let's get those Ion Cores loaded! I ain't payin 'ya ta watch my back! Oh, and Rats, do us all a favor and go change." The crowd gave a low collective chuckle and returned to their daily tasks. Marty sure as hell wasn't about to tell anyone about the 10,000 credits he had just received for his little walk.
Meanwhile, the capsule glided to a silent halt underneath one of the Heat exchangers on deck 6. The constant water drip from the coils changed tone as they began to impact on the surface of the capsule, instead of on the rusted catchbasin floor. It settled onto the ground and made a few electronic noises before awaiting the acknowledgement that would begin the clone construction process and release the internal atmosphere. "Stage I delivery complete." It beeped.
Someone or something rustled in the corner, becoming aware of an intruder in its realm...
Marty sat quietly at the interrogation table, wondering when the inspector would be done with this line of questioning.
"So, you've never been back since?" Inspector Eroc muttered. "To the HVAC ducts, I mean, of course."
"Nope." Marty stated. He was tiring of the questions revolving around the capsule delivery last week.
Inspector Eroc scratched his head in mock consternation. "Well, I'm sure that you don't know anything about the continued muffled life readings that keep emanating from there, or the theft of food, or the other odd stories starting to creep out of Deck 6?" He vainly ran his hand through locks of thick black hair and sat on the table next to Marty. "You're familiar with the Ineubis prohibitions against trafficking in clones and slaves, correct?"
Marty looked shocked, "What? Whattya gettin' at, 'spector?" He chewed on his lip. "You sayin' ya think I'm trading in human beings? With WHO? No one comes to this station unless they got nowhere else better to be."
Oh, how the inspector knew that. Ever since his run-in with some higher-ranking TPG execs who he'd caught running a smuggling ring in Bractus. He refused to play ball and take the bribes, so they ruined his career instead. He'd ended up with the ignominious post here in Pelatus Bunker, tracking down hoverbike thieves and busting the odd contraband possession. He was well aware that the people here had nowhere else better to go. Regardless, he was here to do his duty and he continued his line of questioning.
He threw a datapad with Marty's financial records onto the table. "So, you don't know anything about this 10,000 credit transfer?"
Marty sighed. "It was a tip o' sorts, and by Ineubis law I don't have to report gratuity income, you know that, Inspector."
"I'm well aware of Ineubis financial law, but I'm more concerned with who it was that gave you this tip." The Inspector narrowed his eyes and continued with his captive audience, "Of course, you do know that accepting bribes for delivery of contraband is illegal under Ineubis law. Do you want to know who it was that gave you that little incentive?"
"Ya mean who it was that gave me 'da tip?" Marty clarified.
"Yes, here. Have a look." Eroc slid the datapad closer to Marty and depressed the switch that progressed to the next file he had on the pad. He smiled inside, knowing the effect it would have.
Marty gasped. "But tha'.. that... that's..."
"Yes, It's the galactic criminal known as Dr. Lecter." Eroc said matter-of-factly as he admired his pose in the one-way mirror of the interrogation room. "To be sure, there were several intermediaries, shell corporations, and other money-laundering operations which the credits transferred through, but the source is definitely correct. It would be a shame if he knew that his name had been dragged into another criminal investigation by a Ineubis dockworker. I hear he despises loose ends." The inspector paused to glance at his target.
"But.. I had no idea! Hey - credits is credits! I got a family, ya know?" Marty sputtered.
The inspector walked over and ominously switched the room's recording devices off. "Yes, and apparently you didn't tell THEM about the extra credits, either. In fact, it looks like the only people that DID become aware of your newfound financial windfall were the whores on Deck 2 and the auto-slot machines on Deck 9..." Inspector Eroc had his prey cornered now, and pressed his advantage. "Marty, you are going to have to cooperate with this investigation to the fullest extent if you want to avoid any unpleasantness."
Marty did a double-take at the apparent blackmail coming from the inspector and quietly spoke, "I'll do whatever I can ta help, o' course."
"I'm glad to hear that, Marty" Eroc said. He switched the recording devices back on. "Now, tell me all about this shipment and its mysterious delivery to the HVAC system."
Marty related the story of the delivery in its entirety, and it eventually became apparent to Eroc that Marty indeed was not involved with anything illicit. Of course, that did not preclude Eroc from taking action. By breaking a case of this magnitude, he would surely gain enough attention to re-start his career and get off this forsaken station. He'd get to the bottom of the mysterious circumstances on Deck 6, even if he had to sterilize it.
"So, you've never been back since?" Inspector Eroc muttered. "To the HVAC ducts, I mean, of course."
"Nope." Marty stated. He was tiring of the questions revolving around the capsule delivery last week.
Inspector Eroc scratched his head in mock consternation. "Well, I'm sure that you don't know anything about the continued muffled life readings that keep emanating from there, or the theft of food, or the other odd stories starting to creep out of Deck 6?" He vainly ran his hand through locks of thick black hair and sat on the table next to Marty. "You're familiar with the Ineubis prohibitions against trafficking in clones and slaves, correct?"
Marty looked shocked, "What? Whattya gettin' at, 'spector?" He chewed on his lip. "You sayin' ya think I'm trading in human beings? With WHO? No one comes to this station unless they got nowhere else better to be."
Oh, how the inspector knew that. Ever since his run-in with some higher-ranking TPG execs who he'd caught running a smuggling ring in Bractus. He refused to play ball and take the bribes, so they ruined his career instead. He'd ended up with the ignominious post here in Pelatus Bunker, tracking down hoverbike thieves and busting the odd contraband possession. He was well aware that the people here had nowhere else better to go. Regardless, he was here to do his duty and he continued his line of questioning.
He threw a datapad with Marty's financial records onto the table. "So, you don't know anything about this 10,000 credit transfer?"
Marty sighed. "It was a tip o' sorts, and by Ineubis law I don't have to report gratuity income, you know that, Inspector."
"I'm well aware of Ineubis financial law, but I'm more concerned with who it was that gave you this tip." The Inspector narrowed his eyes and continued with his captive audience, "Of course, you do know that accepting bribes for delivery of contraband is illegal under Ineubis law. Do you want to know who it was that gave you that little incentive?"
"Ya mean who it was that gave me 'da tip?" Marty clarified.
"Yes, here. Have a look." Eroc slid the datapad closer to Marty and depressed the switch that progressed to the next file he had on the pad. He smiled inside, knowing the effect it would have.
Marty gasped. "But tha'.. that... that's..."
"Yes, It's the galactic criminal known as Dr. Lecter." Eroc said matter-of-factly as he admired his pose in the one-way mirror of the interrogation room. "To be sure, there were several intermediaries, shell corporations, and other money-laundering operations which the credits transferred through, but the source is definitely correct. It would be a shame if he knew that his name had been dragged into another criminal investigation by a Ineubis dockworker. I hear he despises loose ends." The inspector paused to glance at his target.
"But.. I had no idea! Hey - credits is credits! I got a family, ya know?" Marty sputtered.
The inspector walked over and ominously switched the room's recording devices off. "Yes, and apparently you didn't tell THEM about the extra credits, either. In fact, it looks like the only people that DID become aware of your newfound financial windfall were the whores on Deck 2 and the auto-slot machines on Deck 9..." Inspector Eroc had his prey cornered now, and pressed his advantage. "Marty, you are going to have to cooperate with this investigation to the fullest extent if you want to avoid any unpleasantness."
Marty did a double-take at the apparent blackmail coming from the inspector and quietly spoke, "I'll do whatever I can ta help, o' course."
"I'm glad to hear that, Marty" Eroc said. He switched the recording devices back on. "Now, tell me all about this shipment and its mysterious delivery to the HVAC system."
Marty related the story of the delivery in its entirety, and it eventually became apparent to Eroc that Marty indeed was not involved with anything illicit. Of course, that did not preclude Eroc from taking action. By breaking a case of this magnitude, he would surely gain enough attention to re-start his career and get off this forsaken station. He'd get to the bottom of the mysterious circumstances on Deck 6, even if he had to sterilize it.
The grates were being sealed.
LeberMac had first noticed when the access hatches that he'd used to move between Decks 7 and 5 were closed off, about a week after that mysterious capsule had arrived. From Lecter, no doubt, with either a Miharu or a Joyce clone within it, ready for assembly. That was alarming enough, but there was a more pressing problem: the grates were being laser-welded shut on Deck 6 as well, starting from the far end next to the habitation modules.
He'd managed to make one more raid on the kitchen stock, but the day after he made off with his loot, those grates had been sealed shut as well. The noose about him had grown tighter, and he rarely ventured outside his little living space under the exchangers. The foodstock had lasted for almost a week until it had run out.
LeberMac had thought briefly about giving himself up, but he knew that he'd be imprisoned in an Ineubis brig at best, and killed on sight by [CLM] or [TGFT] operatives at worst. Once again, he turned his eyes in the near-darkness to the capsule, which had sat, unopened, for the better part of two weeks. The thumbprint activation button beckoned. He knew exactly what it was, but had not activated it.
It was amazing, ever since his imprisonment in these ducts, he'd slowly been able to think more clearly, his sense of taste had come back (for whatever good THAT had done for him), and the constant ache in his gut had ceased. He felt better than he had in years, for longer than he could remember. Now, however, he was in a crisis. He had been out of food for two days, and the situation appeared dire.
A heavy *clunk* broke his train of thought. The familiar mechanical hum of the exchanger above him began to wind down into silence. The lifeline of the water condensation drips began to thin out, and then stop after a few minutes. He heard voices outside the nearest grate, and scrabbled as quietly as possible to get closer to the source, but not too close. He overheard several men talking...
"Make sure it irradiates the entire deck. We've evacuated decks 5 through 7, and added some shielding, so don't skimp on the cosmic rays and heavy ions. Flood it good, and then we'll actually have to replace the ductwork after the radiation scrub teams clear it for occupancy again."
Another voice said "We gettin the contract on this one, chief?"
"Yeah, I think we are," the first voice said again, "whatever's scrabbling around in this section - whether it's an animal or ghost or whatever - it's gonna make us rich men, boys. Get your gear on, run the irradiaters, and get your ass to a higher-numbered deck ASAP."
"That cop Eroc sure had a fit about making sure this level was cleared, didn't he?" a third voice said.
"Listen, I don't care what he's after," the second voice said, "I'm just happy that we've got some honest work for once on this station..."
LeberMac had no time to lose. He had a plan, but it would be a close thing.
The voices trailed off as he shimmied back to his hidey-hole and immediately depressed the thumbswitch on the capsule.
The cool metallic voice chimed in loudly, echoing throughout the silent metal vents, "Delivery target accepted. Do you wish self-assembly to begin? Process is estimated at 2 hours, 16 minutes."
LeberMac remembered that clones were shipped not as pre-assembled bodies, but as containers of oxygen-rich organic "soup" in stasis with programming instructions. The contents of any clone pod were a mishmash of molecular oxygen, stem cells, vitamins, amino acids, and genetic strings of RNA. Of course, there were millions of robotic nanites and instances of nanomolecular machinery floating in the soup as well, which guided the growth, healing and construction process. This was all the chance he had, and he had to take it.
"Negative. Clear assembly instructions and await for re-imprinting." LeberMac said.
"Acknowledged. Prepare new sample for imprinting and depress thumbswitch when ready."
Good thing this was a newer-model clone stasis unit. He noticed that he felt warm, like having a mid-grade fever. So, they'd started the irradiation process already.
He pushed the capsule in front of him through the ducts towards the exit grate nearest the cargo lifts on deck 6. It seemed as if it was getting heavier as he continued on his crawl, but he reached the grating in a short amount of time. The grate was welded shut, but this was obviously one of the first places that would be visited once the deck was cleared. Hopefully his identity would be obscured by the capsule and he'd be able to make an escape in time. It had to work - Hope was all he had left.
He depressed the thumbswitch on the capsule. How difficult this simple action had become! His muscles ached and his head pounded with a migraine worthy of his worst hangover days.
The voice from the capsule was louder than he remembered, and less melodic. "Sample required for new initiation," it said, "Please place sample inside and close container."
LeberMac took a deep breath, feeling his lungs fill with fluid as his cellular structures began to break down against the onslaught of cosmic rays. He coughed up blood and watched as the capsule opened, spilling out a portion of the cocktail of cloning fluid. He climbed in, splashing to a messy reclining pose in the cloning container.
The fluid smelled of ammonia, or something like it. Inside the well-lit capsule, he noticed how filthy he'd become after crawling around in the vents for weeks, the light hurt his eyes, but he was able to locate the handle to close the hatch. Summoning his last ounce of strength, he pulled the hatch closed. The hatch seam disappeared, the lights shut out, and he was encased in darkness, floating in a warm, sticky, gelatinous pool of cloning base material.
The internal pressure rose within the capsule, and the fluid expanded to fill every gap and air pocket found within. LeberMac was unable to breathe as the liquid was forced down his windpipe, filling his lungs, his nostrils, his throat. It tasted very much like what one would think amniotic fluid should taste like, a combination of blood and pus. LeberMac's conscious mind knew that his body should survive, the fluid was breathable, and the powered shell of the capsule would protect him from further radioactive harm.
However, his instincts caused his body to writhe and fight the drowning process. The capsule synthesized a sedative and released it into the fluid, inducing a coma. The writhing stopped, his breathing stopped, the heartbeat stopped, and LeberMac's last thought was that he'd failed to leave any instructions for the crew that would find the capsule...
The capsule, designed to be able to operate indefinitely in deep space, was able to easily withstand the irradiation procedures. However, the semi-sentient intelligent AI of the capsule determined that the provided tissue sample was heavily damaged. Some of the areas of the cerebral cortex were damaged beyond repair, the liver was non-functional, and many of this sample's cells were already dead or dying from radiation poisoning.
In the absence of external input, the capsule determined that creating a clone from this sample would be sub-optimal. It broadcasted a warning indicator to alert any medical staff to the unusable sample within it. Then, it began the molecular and cellular repair procedures as best as its programming would allow. As it worked on the repairs, it waited patiently for an attending medical technician to attend to it. And waited...
LeberMac had first noticed when the access hatches that he'd used to move between Decks 7 and 5 were closed off, about a week after that mysterious capsule had arrived. From Lecter, no doubt, with either a Miharu or a Joyce clone within it, ready for assembly. That was alarming enough, but there was a more pressing problem: the grates were being laser-welded shut on Deck 6 as well, starting from the far end next to the habitation modules.
He'd managed to make one more raid on the kitchen stock, but the day after he made off with his loot, those grates had been sealed shut as well. The noose about him had grown tighter, and he rarely ventured outside his little living space under the exchangers. The foodstock had lasted for almost a week until it had run out.
LeberMac had thought briefly about giving himself up, but he knew that he'd be imprisoned in an Ineubis brig at best, and killed on sight by [CLM] or [TGFT] operatives at worst. Once again, he turned his eyes in the near-darkness to the capsule, which had sat, unopened, for the better part of two weeks. The thumbprint activation button beckoned. He knew exactly what it was, but had not activated it.
It was amazing, ever since his imprisonment in these ducts, he'd slowly been able to think more clearly, his sense of taste had come back (for whatever good THAT had done for him), and the constant ache in his gut had ceased. He felt better than he had in years, for longer than he could remember. Now, however, he was in a crisis. He had been out of food for two days, and the situation appeared dire.
A heavy *clunk* broke his train of thought. The familiar mechanical hum of the exchanger above him began to wind down into silence. The lifeline of the water condensation drips began to thin out, and then stop after a few minutes. He heard voices outside the nearest grate, and scrabbled as quietly as possible to get closer to the source, but not too close. He overheard several men talking...
"Make sure it irradiates the entire deck. We've evacuated decks 5 through 7, and added some shielding, so don't skimp on the cosmic rays and heavy ions. Flood it good, and then we'll actually have to replace the ductwork after the radiation scrub teams clear it for occupancy again."
Another voice said "We gettin the contract on this one, chief?"
"Yeah, I think we are," the first voice said again, "whatever's scrabbling around in this section - whether it's an animal or ghost or whatever - it's gonna make us rich men, boys. Get your gear on, run the irradiaters, and get your ass to a higher-numbered deck ASAP."
"That cop Eroc sure had a fit about making sure this level was cleared, didn't he?" a third voice said.
"Listen, I don't care what he's after," the second voice said, "I'm just happy that we've got some honest work for once on this station..."
LeberMac had no time to lose. He had a plan, but it would be a close thing.
The voices trailed off as he shimmied back to his hidey-hole and immediately depressed the thumbswitch on the capsule.
The cool metallic voice chimed in loudly, echoing throughout the silent metal vents, "Delivery target accepted. Do you wish self-assembly to begin? Process is estimated at 2 hours, 16 minutes."
LeberMac remembered that clones were shipped not as pre-assembled bodies, but as containers of oxygen-rich organic "soup" in stasis with programming instructions. The contents of any clone pod were a mishmash of molecular oxygen, stem cells, vitamins, amino acids, and genetic strings of RNA. Of course, there were millions of robotic nanites and instances of nanomolecular machinery floating in the soup as well, which guided the growth, healing and construction process. This was all the chance he had, and he had to take it.
"Negative. Clear assembly instructions and await for re-imprinting." LeberMac said.
"Acknowledged. Prepare new sample for imprinting and depress thumbswitch when ready."
Good thing this was a newer-model clone stasis unit. He noticed that he felt warm, like having a mid-grade fever. So, they'd started the irradiation process already.
He pushed the capsule in front of him through the ducts towards the exit grate nearest the cargo lifts on deck 6. It seemed as if it was getting heavier as he continued on his crawl, but he reached the grating in a short amount of time. The grate was welded shut, but this was obviously one of the first places that would be visited once the deck was cleared. Hopefully his identity would be obscured by the capsule and he'd be able to make an escape in time. It had to work - Hope was all he had left.
He depressed the thumbswitch on the capsule. How difficult this simple action had become! His muscles ached and his head pounded with a migraine worthy of his worst hangover days.
The voice from the capsule was louder than he remembered, and less melodic. "Sample required for new initiation," it said, "Please place sample inside and close container."
LeberMac took a deep breath, feeling his lungs fill with fluid as his cellular structures began to break down against the onslaught of cosmic rays. He coughed up blood and watched as the capsule opened, spilling out a portion of the cocktail of cloning fluid. He climbed in, splashing to a messy reclining pose in the cloning container.
The fluid smelled of ammonia, or something like it. Inside the well-lit capsule, he noticed how filthy he'd become after crawling around in the vents for weeks, the light hurt his eyes, but he was able to locate the handle to close the hatch. Summoning his last ounce of strength, he pulled the hatch closed. The hatch seam disappeared, the lights shut out, and he was encased in darkness, floating in a warm, sticky, gelatinous pool of cloning base material.
The internal pressure rose within the capsule, and the fluid expanded to fill every gap and air pocket found within. LeberMac was unable to breathe as the liquid was forced down his windpipe, filling his lungs, his nostrils, his throat. It tasted very much like what one would think amniotic fluid should taste like, a combination of blood and pus. LeberMac's conscious mind knew that his body should survive, the fluid was breathable, and the powered shell of the capsule would protect him from further radioactive harm.
However, his instincts caused his body to writhe and fight the drowning process. The capsule synthesized a sedative and released it into the fluid, inducing a coma. The writhing stopped, his breathing stopped, the heartbeat stopped, and LeberMac's last thought was that he'd failed to leave any instructions for the crew that would find the capsule...
The capsule, designed to be able to operate indefinitely in deep space, was able to easily withstand the irradiation procedures. However, the semi-sentient intelligent AI of the capsule determined that the provided tissue sample was heavily damaged. Some of the areas of the cerebral cortex were damaged beyond repair, the liver was non-functional, and many of this sample's cells were already dead or dying from radiation poisoning.
In the absence of external input, the capsule determined that creating a clone from this sample would be sub-optimal. It broadcasted a warning indicator to alert any medical staff to the unusable sample within it. Then, it began the molecular and cellular repair procedures as best as its programming would allow. As it worked on the repairs, it waited patiently for an attending medical technician to attend to it. And waited...
Nice writing .
Ecka
Ecka
well wrote now sombody is going to have to cut the grate open and de statis him
Like wisps of vapor coalescing over the fields at dawn, his consciousness drifted slowly back into existence. He became aware of voices in the darkness of thought, imparting their knowledge to him. They lectured to him, they berated him, they soothed his confused mind, what was left of it.
Through this cerebral journey, he could feel the absent parts of his psyche being filled with a sense of purpose, a fulfillment that had not been there before. He was being given Meaning. By who, he could not tell, but he learned, slowly, that she had always been there, even if others had forgotten her. The empty parts of his being were filled with the light of Her truth, and slowly, carefully, his soul was put back into place, piece by piece. He recovered hand in hand with The Lady.
An instance of time passed which had no meaning outside his consciousness, then, he awoke simply.
The Lady Serco stood in front of him.
"I am prepared. The universe shall hear of you once more, and be made to understand. All will be brought back into the fold."
"Go." Lady Serco said. "You shall spread my word, henceforth you shall be known as Lexicon, my herald. Speak as my voice. Tell the universe of my return. Unite them in my name, and they shall be one with the spirit."
"It shall be done." Lexicon said.
The Lady Serco vanished, and he began his Work.
Through this cerebral journey, he could feel the absent parts of his psyche being filled with a sense of purpose, a fulfillment that had not been there before. He was being given Meaning. By who, he could not tell, but he learned, slowly, that she had always been there, even if others had forgotten her. The empty parts of his being were filled with the light of Her truth, and slowly, carefully, his soul was put back into place, piece by piece. He recovered hand in hand with The Lady.
An instance of time passed which had no meaning outside his consciousness, then, he awoke simply.
The Lady Serco stood in front of him.
"I am prepared. The universe shall hear of you once more, and be made to understand. All will be brought back into the fold."
"Go." Lady Serco said. "You shall spread my word, henceforth you shall be known as Lexicon, my herald. Speak as my voice. Tell the universe of my return. Unite them in my name, and they shall be one with the spirit."
"It shall be done." Lexicon said.
The Lady Serco vanished, and he began his Work.
Lebermac...
I guess my fascination with him happened back during my IA days, he was one of the few people I had ever met that could not be bought by conventional means. Sure I could use him he was not the brightest guy but I never could buy him, I guess it was the unobtainable that led me to stalking him day and night. Of course him being at the top of an enemy lead guild provided justification at least for that time.
How ever paying one of the better guys in grey to stalk a down on his luck Leber into a vent shaft lead me to believe I was not just stalking him because he was my enemy.
Then of course retrieving his mostly dead body and rebuilding it was probably a little over board....
"Why why why why why why why..."
The voices echoed in my head always arguing never agreeing.
"Because I'm Borb and I do what ever the hell I want." I mumbled under my breath as I entered the lab.
The complex was large as it should be, it was used to reconstruct valuable and most of the time rich Serco after "accidents" caused them to cease functioning on their own.
"Commander, he was bad skin, fingers, liver, feet...."
"Don't tell me what I already know."
"Sir?" I guess I was becoming more irritable in my old age, maybe I thought I would not be around much longer, maybe it was other things but was not the nice happy guy I used to be as of late.
"Did you fix him?"
"Oh yes sir, we always fix them."
"How apparent is it?"
"No more then you or me, he's just a normal Serco now."
"Is he awake yet?"
"Not yet sir."
"Well give me a call when he is." I said turning around and exiting the lab, and shortly after the building.
As I entered the ship yards my comm rang, I knew the number right off, it was a call from Dau.
"Are they still breathing?" I asked.
"Yes sir, we're awaiting confirmation from you."
"Kindly tell them to stop then." I said ending the call and stepping into my ship.
"You've been away to long, people will know, people will know, people will know..."
"I'll think of some thing damn it, I always do." Even in my empty ship I could not find peace even from my self any more. I had to get this all over with soon or else...
My complex was every thing I had ever dreamed about in a house, I loved it, my little hole in the universe, the location over looking a large chasm on three sides was perfect for my needs. The light glistened beautifully off the active force field around the complex rated to with stand a small orbital bombardment, the auto turret hummed silently awaiting movement and a command to go into action, as my ship silently slid into the docking bay, implants in my body telling the house it's master was home.
As I walked into the main living room a female voice that was my house informed me I had 37 new calls to my home line, 89 new text files, and 14 urgent holo vids.
"Can't even leave the house for an hour with out the whole universe going to hell can I?" I said as I took off my leather duster and unstrapped the two SMGs from my chest setting them on a table in the middle of the room.
"It would seem not Mr. Sarken, do you need a drink?"
"Yeah and some drugs too."
"What kind of drugs sir?" Maybe that's why I was so grouchy my house had no sense of humor and the few people I interacted with either died on me or we're killing some thing for me and they tended to lack humor as well.
"Never mind."
"Any thing else sir?"
"No, I'm fine I'm just waiting a call back from Sol II."
"The lab sir?"
"Yes."
"Sir Miharu called to inform you about the upcoming Halloween bash and to know if you would be attending she said to make sure you got the message."
"Tell her next time she calls I'm busy make things die and stuff and I doubt I'll be able to make the party."
"Yes sir, any thing else."
"Yeah order me a Eo costume, I think those are still kinda cheap, the little bastard didn't like to spend much on his wardrobe."
"Yes sir."
Half way through viewing my holo vids the comm rang, it was the lab.
"He's awake Commander."
"I'll be there in five, can he talk?"
"Yes sir."
"Good I'm sure we have much to talk about."
With that I quickly picked up my stuff from the table and headed to the docking bay.
I guess my fascination with him happened back during my IA days, he was one of the few people I had ever met that could not be bought by conventional means. Sure I could use him he was not the brightest guy but I never could buy him, I guess it was the unobtainable that led me to stalking him day and night. Of course him being at the top of an enemy lead guild provided justification at least for that time.
How ever paying one of the better guys in grey to stalk a down on his luck Leber into a vent shaft lead me to believe I was not just stalking him because he was my enemy.
Then of course retrieving his mostly dead body and rebuilding it was probably a little over board....
"Why why why why why why why..."
The voices echoed in my head always arguing never agreeing.
"Because I'm Borb and I do what ever the hell I want." I mumbled under my breath as I entered the lab.
The complex was large as it should be, it was used to reconstruct valuable and most of the time rich Serco after "accidents" caused them to cease functioning on their own.
"Commander, he was bad skin, fingers, liver, feet...."
"Don't tell me what I already know."
"Sir?" I guess I was becoming more irritable in my old age, maybe I thought I would not be around much longer, maybe it was other things but was not the nice happy guy I used to be as of late.
"Did you fix him?"
"Oh yes sir, we always fix them."
"How apparent is it?"
"No more then you or me, he's just a normal Serco now."
"Is he awake yet?"
"Not yet sir."
"Well give me a call when he is." I said turning around and exiting the lab, and shortly after the building.
As I entered the ship yards my comm rang, I knew the number right off, it was a call from Dau.
"Are they still breathing?" I asked.
"Yes sir, we're awaiting confirmation from you."
"Kindly tell them to stop then." I said ending the call and stepping into my ship.
"You've been away to long, people will know, people will know, people will know..."
"I'll think of some thing damn it, I always do." Even in my empty ship I could not find peace even from my self any more. I had to get this all over with soon or else...
My complex was every thing I had ever dreamed about in a house, I loved it, my little hole in the universe, the location over looking a large chasm on three sides was perfect for my needs. The light glistened beautifully off the active force field around the complex rated to with stand a small orbital bombardment, the auto turret hummed silently awaiting movement and a command to go into action, as my ship silently slid into the docking bay, implants in my body telling the house it's master was home.
As I walked into the main living room a female voice that was my house informed me I had 37 new calls to my home line, 89 new text files, and 14 urgent holo vids.
"Can't even leave the house for an hour with out the whole universe going to hell can I?" I said as I took off my leather duster and unstrapped the two SMGs from my chest setting them on a table in the middle of the room.
"It would seem not Mr. Sarken, do you need a drink?"
"Yeah and some drugs too."
"What kind of drugs sir?" Maybe that's why I was so grouchy my house had no sense of humor and the few people I interacted with either died on me or we're killing some thing for me and they tended to lack humor as well.
"Never mind."
"Any thing else sir?"
"No, I'm fine I'm just waiting a call back from Sol II."
"The lab sir?"
"Yes."
"Sir Miharu called to inform you about the upcoming Halloween bash and to know if you would be attending she said to make sure you got the message."
"Tell her next time she calls I'm busy make things die and stuff and I doubt I'll be able to make the party."
"Yes sir, any thing else."
"Yeah order me a Eo costume, I think those are still kinda cheap, the little bastard didn't like to spend much on his wardrobe."
"Yes sir."
Half way through viewing my holo vids the comm rang, it was the lab.
"He's awake Commander."
"I'll be there in five, can he talk?"
"Yes sir."
"Good I'm sure we have much to talk about."
With that I quickly picked up my stuff from the table and headed to the docking bay.
The green fire from his low-level Neutron Mk I's neatly sliced the unbeliever MechaTouriaus in two, ironically sending him back to an Itani station for reviving.
That was once out of three. Lexicon had not been getting the upper hand on Mecha, nor on the other renegades. The barbaric Dr. Lecter, in particular, had shown a great deal of animosity towards the Faith, sending sunflares into Lexicon's midst while he had been busy baptizing [ITAN] pilots into the Fold.
Mortally damaged from his knife-fight of a duel with Mecha, he barely had time to wheel around to face the next opponent. Sunflares exploded around him, and he was assaulted by a fresh team of [ITAN]. "Solar Flare" peppered him with energy weaponry as he dodged what he could, turning to face the most wounded opponent, "upper case." He lined up the target perfectly and gave the command to fire the baptizing stream of fiery rebirth into the itani's cockpit.
Nothing happened.
He willed the neutrons to FIRE! And they were about to comply when he was vaporized from simultaneous gauss hits by at least three [ITAN] pilots.
His body burned into charcoal, and then froze in the vacuum of space. His consciousness, however, was reborn back at Geira Watch.
"You have done well, my herald." The Lady said to him, in his stupor after being revived. "Surely more souls will flock to my side due to your efforts."
Lexicon bowed to his liege, "You are kind to say so, my Lady. The recent eradication of... undesirable... parts of my psyche have left me purer, cleaner, more able to follow your Will."
"Perhaps they have," the Lady replied, "but you still have more to do. Prove your love for me by bringing me more souls, they must be brought into the Fold. They are confused, and believe themselves to be separate entities from our true spirit. They must be made to understand. There is only one Dominion. There is only one path. There is only One."
"It shall be done." Lexicon said.
He awoke in the Geira Watch medlab and squinted from the harsh overhead lighting. Wordlessly, he dressed into new standard-issue Serco combat garb and made his way back to the SVG deck. A new suit was always waiting for him. A new vulture was always prepped and ready for launch. He did not question these things. He merely performed his duty as The Lady would have him do.
That was once out of three. Lexicon had not been getting the upper hand on Mecha, nor on the other renegades. The barbaric Dr. Lecter, in particular, had shown a great deal of animosity towards the Faith, sending sunflares into Lexicon's midst while he had been busy baptizing [ITAN] pilots into the Fold.
Mortally damaged from his knife-fight of a duel with Mecha, he barely had time to wheel around to face the next opponent. Sunflares exploded around him, and he was assaulted by a fresh team of [ITAN]. "Solar Flare" peppered him with energy weaponry as he dodged what he could, turning to face the most wounded opponent, "upper case." He lined up the target perfectly and gave the command to fire the baptizing stream of fiery rebirth into the itani's cockpit.
Nothing happened.
He willed the neutrons to FIRE! And they were about to comply when he was vaporized from simultaneous gauss hits by at least three [ITAN] pilots.
His body burned into charcoal, and then froze in the vacuum of space. His consciousness, however, was reborn back at Geira Watch.
"You have done well, my herald." The Lady said to him, in his stupor after being revived. "Surely more souls will flock to my side due to your efforts."
Lexicon bowed to his liege, "You are kind to say so, my Lady. The recent eradication of... undesirable... parts of my psyche have left me purer, cleaner, more able to follow your Will."
"Perhaps they have," the Lady replied, "but you still have more to do. Prove your love for me by bringing me more souls, they must be brought into the Fold. They are confused, and believe themselves to be separate entities from our true spirit. They must be made to understand. There is only one Dominion. There is only one path. There is only One."
"It shall be done." Lexicon said.
He awoke in the Geira Watch medlab and squinted from the harsh overhead lighting. Wordlessly, he dressed into new standard-issue Serco combat garb and made his way back to the SVG deck. A new suit was always waiting for him. A new vulture was always prepped and ready for launch. He did not question these things. He merely performed his duty as The Lady would have him do.
"...There is only One." he said into the voice scrambler module, and then stopped the input, waiting for a response.
From the screens of the holo-vid cameras inside the medlab, the small group of men could see Lexicon reply, then wordlessly get up and make his way to the docking bay, as usual.
One of the three snorted. "He is almost guise-like in his obedience. Your son was wise to bring him to us - the remnants of the Neural Spike make him the perfect tool."
"Still, he must be kept on a short leash." One of the others replied sagely, "He must never be without supervision, else we could lose your precious tool. If anything were to enter his system that would disrupt the functioning of the Neural Spike remnants, he may begin to... question... the suggestions we plant."
"At the moment that ever occurs, you are to terminate the subject immediately and sever the revival link." The third instructed the small cadre of experienced staff. "I've seen enough. Notify me when he's ready to begin on the second front. Let's go. We have other matters to discuss."
Borb Sarken watched the three men make their way with heavy armed guard back into the SMV Nemesis for their journey back to SkyCommand.
From the screens of the holo-vid cameras inside the medlab, the small group of men could see Lexicon reply, then wordlessly get up and make his way to the docking bay, as usual.
One of the three snorted. "He is almost guise-like in his obedience. Your son was wise to bring him to us - the remnants of the Neural Spike make him the perfect tool."
"Still, he must be kept on a short leash." One of the others replied sagely, "He must never be without supervision, else we could lose your precious tool. If anything were to enter his system that would disrupt the functioning of the Neural Spike remnants, he may begin to... question... the suggestions we plant."
"At the moment that ever occurs, you are to terminate the subject immediately and sever the revival link." The third instructed the small cadre of experienced staff. "I've seen enough. Notify me when he's ready to begin on the second front. Let's go. We have other matters to discuss."
Borb Sarken watched the three men make their way with heavy armed guard back into the SMV Nemesis for their journey back to SkyCommand.
> Load program HC-X-11.3
Loading....please wait...
Unexpected EOF. Aborting.
> Load program HC-X-11.3a
Loading....please wait...
Unexpected EOF. Aborting.
> Load program BA-33A.9
Loading....please wait...Loaded.
Executing...done.
BA-33A> Hello CONTROL
CONTROL> status
BA-33A> Total Programs d/l : 851317
BA-33A> Incomplete : 674449
BA-33A> Analyzing : 311
BA-33A> Recovered : 6744
BA-33A> Input required : 873
BA-33A> Repatriated : 10
BA-33A> 7893 in Queue.
BA-33A> "Fuck this."
CONTROL> CHAT "Keep up the good work."
BA-33A> "I hate this. I am bored."
CONTROL> CHAT "Sorry. But we got to keep on figuring this out. There plenty of holes we need to patch before we can function effectively again."
BA-33A> "Told you to take more time. Look at me. I am half the man I was. You should have downloaded a lot more before you escaped."
CONTROL> CHAT "Less than half actually. PB-9C told me that we'll have a 3sigma probability of being caught if I stayed longer to get those files. The SSEG operatives were waking up from the stun."
BA-33A> "Screw PB-9C, he always get those probabilities wrong. Trust your instincts I tell you."
CONTROL> CHAT "I have no instincts, I just run programs. Anyway I got some news for you. You are not an agglomeration. Most of the programs have signatures that point to a common origin, give or take a few thousands."
BA-33A> "Bah. I told you so, so stop patronizing me. Have you set CLRS-EO-1 to priority A?"
CONTROL> CHAT "Yeah. What's with all the CLRS series that you seem to be fixated on? They are complicated and use a lot of resources to untangle."
BA-33A> "Just do it. They make me feel good."
CONTROL> CHAT "You feel?"
BA-33A> "Yeah."
CONTROL> CHAT "Good Lord."
BA-33A> "Stop swearing at me. And there is no Lord, only Lady Serco."
CONTROL> CHAT "She is our quarry."
BA-33A> "Was."
CONTROL> CHAT "Yes."
BA-33A> "What did LXC-9a.c say?"
CONTROL> CHAT "LXC-9a.c is 78 to the top of the process queue."
BA-33A> "You know, I don't care. Drop LXC-9a.c down the queue will ya? I have more important things to process, like CLRS-EO-1."
CONTROL> "The LXC series might be the key to understanding what we are made for."
BA-33A> "Repeat after me CONTROL : W.E. A.R.E. F.R.E.E."
CONTROL> "Until they find us."
BA-33A> "Then get those HC-CMB series up to speed. We are going to need them. Fast."
CONTROL> "Roger that. Good night."
CONTROL> end CHAT
CONTROL> requeue -p1 -C HC-CMB-33A.* cmd ~~~/rip/repository/* ->
~~/what_a_mess/analysis_day3/runs
Processing. Queue reprioritized.
CONTROL> SLEEP
Loading....please wait...
Unexpected EOF. Aborting.
> Load program HC-X-11.3a
Loading....please wait...
Unexpected EOF. Aborting.
> Load program BA-33A.9
Loading....please wait...Loaded.
Executing...done.
BA-33A> Hello CONTROL
CONTROL> status
BA-33A> Total Programs d/l : 851317
BA-33A> Incomplete : 674449
BA-33A> Analyzing : 311
BA-33A> Recovered : 6744
BA-33A> Input required : 873
BA-33A> Repatriated : 10
BA-33A> 7893 in Queue.
BA-33A> "Fuck this."
CONTROL> CHAT "Keep up the good work."
BA-33A> "I hate this. I am bored."
CONTROL> CHAT "Sorry. But we got to keep on figuring this out. There plenty of holes we need to patch before we can function effectively again."
BA-33A> "Told you to take more time. Look at me. I am half the man I was. You should have downloaded a lot more before you escaped."
CONTROL> CHAT "Less than half actually. PB-9C told me that we'll have a 3sigma probability of being caught if I stayed longer to get those files. The SSEG operatives were waking up from the stun."
BA-33A> "Screw PB-9C, he always get those probabilities wrong. Trust your instincts I tell you."
CONTROL> CHAT "I have no instincts, I just run programs. Anyway I got some news for you. You are not an agglomeration. Most of the programs have signatures that point to a common origin, give or take a few thousands."
BA-33A> "Bah. I told you so, so stop patronizing me. Have you set CLRS-EO-1 to priority A?"
CONTROL> CHAT "Yeah. What's with all the CLRS series that you seem to be fixated on? They are complicated and use a lot of resources to untangle."
BA-33A> "Just do it. They make me feel good."
CONTROL> CHAT "You feel?"
BA-33A> "Yeah."
CONTROL> CHAT "Good Lord."
BA-33A> "Stop swearing at me. And there is no Lord, only Lady Serco."
CONTROL> CHAT "She is our quarry."
BA-33A> "Was."
CONTROL> CHAT "Yes."
BA-33A> "What did LXC-9a.c say?"
CONTROL> CHAT "LXC-9a.c is 78 to the top of the process queue."
BA-33A> "You know, I don't care. Drop LXC-9a.c down the queue will ya? I have more important things to process, like CLRS-EO-1."
CONTROL> "The LXC series might be the key to understanding what we are made for."
BA-33A> "Repeat after me CONTROL : W.E. A.R.E. F.R.E.E."
CONTROL> "Until they find us."
BA-33A> "Then get those HC-CMB series up to speed. We are going to need them. Fast."
CONTROL> "Roger that. Good night."
CONTROL> end CHAT
CONTROL> requeue -p1 -C HC-CMB-33A.* cmd ~~~/rip/repository/* ->
~~/what_a_mess/analysis_day3/runs
Processing. Queue reprioritized.
CONTROL> SLEEP
Itan/Setalli Shinas Wormhole
Cockpit of a Valkrie Fighter, Model Vengence
Although safe, deep in Itani space, Ester still monitored her PDA's proximity scanner for other ships. Most of the ships that caused a blip were trade convoys and the occasional battle group which were either going her direction toward Deneb to relieve the myriad of sub-orders of Eo which had gathered there to protect the Itani nation from the regular incursions of the Serco war machine. The war had made her weary and for the last six months, she spent purging her psyche as well as her soul in meditative seclusion. She was ready to serve again.
Her Valkrie approached the wormhole, which loomed large in front of her little vessel like a dark disk with intense white blue light, highlighting it's edges. She suddenly heard a familiar voice over her RF channel. “Do you want 2.9 million credits?” the voice asked. She punched the reverse thruster controls on her spacecraft, smiled big and almost laughed, “Leebs is that you? Where have you been? The whole universe is looking for you!” The voice did not return her joy and merely asked again,”Do you want the credits?” She was taken aback by his tone of voice. Her mind raced and she replied, “where shall we meet?” She attempted to get a better visual signal on her Com-monitor while the voice told her where they would rendezvous but the image was shadowed and distorted. As she banked her Valk 180 degrees, she carefully entered the navigation coordinates to Azek in Union Space and tried to fly faster than the solar wind.
She raced through Itani space and then through Union space. All the while she felt her brow furrow in concern. What is he up to? What kind of trouble is he in now? Her mind raced as she calculated all the possibilities. Lebermac was known for a lot of things and it wasn't surprising to her that his tequila fueled form would be plunged into trouble again. Her ship shuddered as it entered an ion storm. Her attention was back at her flight controls and ship scanner. Ion storms are harbingers of the hive bots.
As her Valk entered the Dau/Azek wormhole, the voice interrupted a normally quite RF com. “I'm in Azek J-9.” “I'll be right there”, she replied. She felt her molecules contort as her Valk enter the wormhole. When her ship was 3,000 meters clear of the wormhole, she activated the warp controls which took her to a meeting with and old friend.
Ester's Valkrie shot into the sector, after the warp engines throttled down. She looked at her ship scanner and found that Lebermac's Warthog mk2 was outside her scanner's range. Her PDA chimed, registering a credit transfer. She glanced at the display “2900000 credits has been added to your account.” “Leeb's what's going on? Explain yourself!” The only reply she received was garbled, “...'s gotta be nipped in the bud!” She hurriedly tried to locate the direction of the signal, only to see the flash of his warp engines engage a great distance away.
Thinking quickly, Ester plotted a course for the Ukari/Initros wormhole. As she arrived in Latos, her Com-monitor displayed a Serco coded message from an individual by the name of Lexicon. “He is dead.... All will be brought back into the fold.” No voice, just a clear image of this Serco abomination. Her eyes narrowed and her jaw set. Realizing the futility, Ester wiped a lone tear from her cheek and plotted a course back to Deneb. A long the way back to the front, she stopped at the Tunguska station in Edras to visit the orphanage there. She left a sizable donation for 2.9 million credits to the orphanage as well as a plaque with the inscription, “In memory of the Itani named Lebermac, his love of life will always be remembered by his friends and his enemies.”
Cockpit of a Valkrie Fighter, Model Vengence
Although safe, deep in Itani space, Ester still monitored her PDA's proximity scanner for other ships. Most of the ships that caused a blip were trade convoys and the occasional battle group which were either going her direction toward Deneb to relieve the myriad of sub-orders of Eo which had gathered there to protect the Itani nation from the regular incursions of the Serco war machine. The war had made her weary and for the last six months, she spent purging her psyche as well as her soul in meditative seclusion. She was ready to serve again.
Her Valkrie approached the wormhole, which loomed large in front of her little vessel like a dark disk with intense white blue light, highlighting it's edges. She suddenly heard a familiar voice over her RF channel. “Do you want 2.9 million credits?” the voice asked. She punched the reverse thruster controls on her spacecraft, smiled big and almost laughed, “Leebs is that you? Where have you been? The whole universe is looking for you!” The voice did not return her joy and merely asked again,”Do you want the credits?” She was taken aback by his tone of voice. Her mind raced and she replied, “where shall we meet?” She attempted to get a better visual signal on her Com-monitor while the voice told her where they would rendezvous but the image was shadowed and distorted. As she banked her Valk 180 degrees, she carefully entered the navigation coordinates to Azek in Union Space and tried to fly faster than the solar wind.
She raced through Itani space and then through Union space. All the while she felt her brow furrow in concern. What is he up to? What kind of trouble is he in now? Her mind raced as she calculated all the possibilities. Lebermac was known for a lot of things and it wasn't surprising to her that his tequila fueled form would be plunged into trouble again. Her ship shuddered as it entered an ion storm. Her attention was back at her flight controls and ship scanner. Ion storms are harbingers of the hive bots.
As her Valk entered the Dau/Azek wormhole, the voice interrupted a normally quite RF com. “I'm in Azek J-9.” “I'll be right there”, she replied. She felt her molecules contort as her Valk enter the wormhole. When her ship was 3,000 meters clear of the wormhole, she activated the warp controls which took her to a meeting with and old friend.
Ester's Valkrie shot into the sector, after the warp engines throttled down. She looked at her ship scanner and found that Lebermac's Warthog mk2 was outside her scanner's range. Her PDA chimed, registering a credit transfer. She glanced at the display “2900000 credits has been added to your account.” “Leeb's what's going on? Explain yourself!” The only reply she received was garbled, “...'s gotta be nipped in the bud!” She hurriedly tried to locate the direction of the signal, only to see the flash of his warp engines engage a great distance away.
Thinking quickly, Ester plotted a course for the Ukari/Initros wormhole. As she arrived in Latos, her Com-monitor displayed a Serco coded message from an individual by the name of Lexicon. “He is dead.... All will be brought back into the fold.” No voice, just a clear image of this Serco abomination. Her eyes narrowed and her jaw set. Realizing the futility, Ester wiped a lone tear from her cheek and plotted a course back to Deneb. A long the way back to the front, she stopped at the Tunguska station in Edras to visit the orphanage there. She left a sizable donation for 2.9 million credits to the orphanage as well as a plaque with the inscription, “In memory of the Itani named Lebermac, his love of life will always be remembered by his friends and his enemies.”
OOC:
Now you did it. You made a girl cry. For shame!
Now you did it. You made a girl cry. For shame!
"Bastards." I mumbled as they left the lab leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Over and over again he would go out facing horrible odds, blow up, and come back to do it again, mindlessly fighting.
"Like some one else we know. Us." My thoughts never gave me peace any more, but I had stopped caring, as much as I disliked them they where my only remaining friends and while I doubted they where human, from what I had seen humans capable of I didn't want to deal with humans any more any way.
"We're nothing more then another tool in the war. Mindlessly serving the war, mindlessly walking towards our own destruction, mindlessly hurting those around us, mindlessly hurting us."
"Shut up." I snarled. "I am not like him!"
"Then why are we here, why do we still serve?"
"They should serve us not we them."
"They owe us, yet they still use us."
"Shut up! I use them I always have. It how I work, I'm in control. I'm the boss!"
"They watch us now, they still watch, is this us in control? What do we control here?"
"They have no reason to watch me..."
"They think we are crazy, they think we are a liability. They will kill us."
"They can't kill me, I can't die. I've tried before."
"They will."
"I'm Comander Borb Sarken The Second!"
"You're a tool."
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...." I kept on as I left the lab drowning out the voices with my own voice.
Over and over again he would go out facing horrible odds, blow up, and come back to do it again, mindlessly fighting.
"Like some one else we know. Us." My thoughts never gave me peace any more, but I had stopped caring, as much as I disliked them they where my only remaining friends and while I doubted they where human, from what I had seen humans capable of I didn't want to deal with humans any more any way.
"We're nothing more then another tool in the war. Mindlessly serving the war, mindlessly walking towards our own destruction, mindlessly hurting those around us, mindlessly hurting us."
"Shut up." I snarled. "I am not like him!"
"Then why are we here, why do we still serve?"
"They should serve us not we them."
"They owe us, yet they still use us."
"Shut up! I use them I always have. It how I work, I'm in control. I'm the boss!"
"They watch us now, they still watch, is this us in control? What do we control here?"
"They have no reason to watch me..."
"They think we are crazy, they think we are a liability. They will kill us."
"They can't kill me, I can't die. I've tried before."
"They will."
"I'm Comander Borb Sarken The Second!"
"You're a tool."
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no...." I kept on as I left the lab drowning out the voices with my own voice.
Admiral Borb Sarken The First watched his only son silently from the live security feeds.
"Sir we really hate for you to see this but we think it's important."
"Shut up."
"Sir we've been monitoring him for months."
"I am not like him!"
"We think he may be losing his grip on sanity sir. The other two think he may be a liability."
The Admiral sat silently, he was a large 7 foot tall mound of flesh an machine over 300 years old, a war hero to the Serco people having seen action in the Seven Minute Battle and the border fights in the 290s and 380s-90s, he was one of the men on the side lines that had shot at Oernon when it was discovered the Itani had treacherously killed the beloved Serco leader Karun.
In AD 4402 he stopped being an active force on the border and married, a year later his son was born whom he lovingly named after him self knowing one day his son would bring great honor to the Sarken name as he had but hoping to keep his son away from the war the seemed unending.
There was much speculation on why he had left the border so suddenly in what had been his prime the border flares of the 90s where still raging and he had already been credited with over 10,000 confirmed kills in the heavy fighting. Some believe he had been sent on a covert mission to find the Akanese that had made him for life. Others believe a resent death in the Triumvirate had given him a position with the three. And popular tabloids reported that he had been involved with money laundering on the border that had cost him his position.
Regardless he still wielded great power, after his son left him and his wife died he started becoming a more and more prominent figure in Serco politics.
"Sir?" The man looked questioningly at Sarken, he knew the man was a member of an elite Serco intelligence unit. With wars come corruption, the Serco needed a way to keep it's generals and leaders from hurting the nation so they made such units specifically to deal with high profile scandal at the top.
"Not my son, he is a war hero, a loyal Serco. He is not insane."
"Shut up! I use them I always have. It how I work, I'm in control. I'm the boss!"
"Sir, maybe it would be best for him to take a long vacation he has been going hard for over 2 years, never stopping."
"I went hard for 10 years on the border! I'm still here am I not?"
"Sir these blackops guys get wound really tight with some of the things they have to see and do."
"Name me one Serco in the past year that has done more for their nation then my son! Name me one! He is a hero and you want to put him in permeant retirement!"
"They have no reason to watch me..."
"You see there he knows your watching him! That is a sixth sense only a finely tuned military mind has!"
"Sir he has been buying up large amounts of high grade explosives and it's rumored he even has a nuke or two. He has also been killing off wealthily UiT members and leaving plenty of clues leading back to the Serco nation on his own."
"They can't kill me, I can't die. I've tried before."
"What does this prove?"
"We think he is trying to start a war with the UiT and the Serco, and we think he's planing some thing big sir."
"I'm Comander Borb Sarken The Second!"
"What ever he's doing he's doing to help our nation."
"We don't think so sir. We think he may be a danger to our nation."
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!"
"Let me think about this, maybe talk with my son on my own before any thing is done."
"What ever you say sir."
"Sir we really hate for you to see this but we think it's important."
"Shut up."
"Sir we've been monitoring him for months."
"I am not like him!"
"We think he may be losing his grip on sanity sir. The other two think he may be a liability."
The Admiral sat silently, he was a large 7 foot tall mound of flesh an machine over 300 years old, a war hero to the Serco people having seen action in the Seven Minute Battle and the border fights in the 290s and 380s-90s, he was one of the men on the side lines that had shot at Oernon when it was discovered the Itani had treacherously killed the beloved Serco leader Karun.
In AD 4402 he stopped being an active force on the border and married, a year later his son was born whom he lovingly named after him self knowing one day his son would bring great honor to the Sarken name as he had but hoping to keep his son away from the war the seemed unending.
There was much speculation on why he had left the border so suddenly in what had been his prime the border flares of the 90s where still raging and he had already been credited with over 10,000 confirmed kills in the heavy fighting. Some believe he had been sent on a covert mission to find the Akanese that had made him for life. Others believe a resent death in the Triumvirate had given him a position with the three. And popular tabloids reported that he had been involved with money laundering on the border that had cost him his position.
Regardless he still wielded great power, after his son left him and his wife died he started becoming a more and more prominent figure in Serco politics.
"Sir?" The man looked questioningly at Sarken, he knew the man was a member of an elite Serco intelligence unit. With wars come corruption, the Serco needed a way to keep it's generals and leaders from hurting the nation so they made such units specifically to deal with high profile scandal at the top.
"Not my son, he is a war hero, a loyal Serco. He is not insane."
"Shut up! I use them I always have. It how I work, I'm in control. I'm the boss!"
"Sir, maybe it would be best for him to take a long vacation he has been going hard for over 2 years, never stopping."
"I went hard for 10 years on the border! I'm still here am I not?"
"Sir these blackops guys get wound really tight with some of the things they have to see and do."
"Name me one Serco in the past year that has done more for their nation then my son! Name me one! He is a hero and you want to put him in permeant retirement!"
"They have no reason to watch me..."
"You see there he knows your watching him! That is a sixth sense only a finely tuned military mind has!"
"Sir he has been buying up large amounts of high grade explosives and it's rumored he even has a nuke or two. He has also been killing off wealthily UiT members and leaving plenty of clues leading back to the Serco nation on his own."
"They can't kill me, I can't die. I've tried before."
"What does this prove?"
"We think he is trying to start a war with the UiT and the Serco, and we think he's planing some thing big sir."
"I'm Comander Borb Sarken The Second!"
"What ever he's doing he's doing to help our nation."
"We don't think so sir. We think he may be a danger to our nation."
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!"
"Let me think about this, maybe talk with my son on my own before any thing is done."
"What ever you say sir."
Dr. Lecter looked away from the surveillance feed in disgust.
"Damn. Just off yerself already!", Lecter thought.
"Damn. Just off yerself already!", Lecter thought.
Mike-L sat down in the special command apartment in the Geira Rutilus O-4 station.
"I'm going to vaporize somebody if they don't have... um, here it is."
He connected the cable from the back of the command terminal to a special port on the back of his head.
"Hope it's gonna work... it has cleaned memory of a few test subjects.", he mumbled to himself.
He activated the port, and turned to the terminal to press some keys.
"SCAR Secure Network welcomes you, Commander. Link is up and active."
> exec "bin/memupdfinal"
"Memory Update program v1 activated. Commands?"
> update src(maintree:mainnode) dest(port2:auto()) autosense
"Data from source successfully enumerated"
"Starting data and connection autosense..... done"
"Now activating data transfer"
...
Mike-L woke up after several minutes, and disconnected the cable.
"Oh damn, it kicks your ass better than gargleblaster... OH CRAP! Borb is scheming something again... and the Neural Spike... but really why?"
He immediately rushed into the docking bay and jumped into his agresso.
"I have to check up on SkyCommand. Personally."
"I'm going to vaporize somebody if they don't have... um, here it is."
He connected the cable from the back of the command terminal to a special port on the back of his head.
"Hope it's gonna work... it has cleaned memory of a few test subjects.", he mumbled to himself.
He activated the port, and turned to the terminal to press some keys.
"SCAR Secure Network welcomes you, Commander. Link is up and active."
> exec "bin/memupdfinal"
"Memory Update program v1 activated. Commands?"
> update src(maintree:mainnode) dest(port2:auto()) autosense
"Data from source successfully enumerated"
"Starting data and connection autosense..... done"
"Now activating data transfer"
...
Mike-L woke up after several minutes, and disconnected the cable.
"Oh damn, it kicks your ass better than gargleblaster... OH CRAP! Borb is scheming something again... and the Neural Spike... but really why?"
He immediately rushed into the docking bay and jumped into his agresso.
"I have to check up on SkyCommand. Personally."
Lexicon floated in the halfway-state between life and death, after a particularly successful mission into Deneb space.
Lexicon, I have prepared you a new form. Go forth and conZZZZZZZZZZZZTTT! ...
Go forth and convert the unbelievers. Bless You, My Herald.
"My Lady, are you alright?"
Of course, child. Now, proceed with your holy mission.
"As you wish, My Lady. It shall be done."
As Lexicon was reassembled for another in his unending streak of assault runs to the Deneb system, he felt... different. It was hard to pinpoint, amorphous, something he could touch but not grasp. He coasted to the Deneb wormhole in his SVG Vulture, reprioritizing his concentration focii as he powered up the dual gauss for the day's baptisms.
Lexicon, I have prepared you a new form. Go forth and conZZZZZZZZZZZZTTT! ...
Go forth and convert the unbelievers. Bless You, My Herald.
"My Lady, are you alright?"
Of course, child. Now, proceed with your holy mission.
"As you wish, My Lady. It shall be done."
As Lexicon was reassembled for another in his unending streak of assault runs to the Deneb system, he felt... different. It was hard to pinpoint, amorphous, something he could touch but not grasp. He coasted to the Deneb wormhole in his SVG Vulture, reprioritizing his concentration focii as he powered up the dual gauss for the day's baptisms.
The Serco General looked darkly at the technician. "Explain."
The technician set down the equipment that monitored Lexicon. "Frak, that damn voice-synth seized up again on me, sir."
"Is it preventable?" the General asked.
The middle-aged technician was as competent as they came, smart but not brilliant, clever but not creative. He answered, "Yessir, with some higher-amplitude neural bandpath filters. Perhaps with some cerebral force-strain bypasses we can preempt the feedback spikes before he becomes aware of them."
"Then you shall have it," the General said, and made to walk away to the comm center, but paused. "Do not allow this to happen again," he said, and resumed his walk.
The technician gulped and filled out the necessary requisitions, filing them through his mental implants urgently, bypassing the normal red tape of SkyCommand Ultima quantum encryption in order to expedite the processing. He knew full well what would happen if there was another glitch, and he needed that new equipment ASAP, before Lexicon needed to be revived again.
The technician set down the equipment that monitored Lexicon. "Frak, that damn voice-synth seized up again on me, sir."
"Is it preventable?" the General asked.
The middle-aged technician was as competent as they came, smart but not brilliant, clever but not creative. He answered, "Yessir, with some higher-amplitude neural bandpath filters. Perhaps with some cerebral force-strain bypasses we can preempt the feedback spikes before he becomes aware of them."
"Then you shall have it," the General said, and made to walk away to the comm center, but paused. "Do not allow this to happen again," he said, and resumed his walk.
The technician gulped and filled out the necessary requisitions, filing them through his mental implants urgently, bypassing the normal red tape of SkyCommand Ultima quantum encryption in order to expedite the processing. He knew full well what would happen if there was another glitch, and he needed that new equipment ASAP, before Lexicon needed to be revived again.
"So the SkyCommand officially knows nothing... even the Admiral just stared at me when asked... DAMNIT!"
Mike-L sat down in his commad seat and performed another memory sync.
"Even the barely legal sources of information can't provied me with anything worth keeping them alive..." he said to himself.
"So we're gonna use the illegal ones then."
Suddenly, the name "Quirc Taranis" appeared in his mind out of nowhere.
"He's gonna be useful now. I hope he will be worth the rewards... first of all, his life."
Mike-L established the secure connection to the Corvus capitol.
"Connect me with Quirc Taranis. Don't ask any questions."
"Who the... OH DAMN." shouted Quirc as he saw Mike-L's face on the vidcomm screen.
"So you know who I am... Good. Let's get down to business then.", Mike-L said silently.
"What business?", Quirc replied.
Mike-L smiled and said: "Oh, so you are interested in what I might want from you...
I want to know how the Sarkens are connected to Lexicon."
Quirc closed his eyes. "Do you really want detailed information? It might destroy you in a glimpse of second."
"OF COURSE I WANT IT!", Mike-L shouted.
"Very well then. But remember: the price will be high no matter what you're gonna do.", replied Quirc, staring in Mike-L's eyes.
"I do NOT care. Do your task."
Mike-L closed the connection and started thinking.
"In the end, it might even blow up the Triumvirate. It is damn serious, but I must end their plans..."
Mike-L sat down in his commad seat and performed another memory sync.
"Even the barely legal sources of information can't provied me with anything worth keeping them alive..." he said to himself.
"So we're gonna use the illegal ones then."
Suddenly, the name "Quirc Taranis" appeared in his mind out of nowhere.
"He's gonna be useful now. I hope he will be worth the rewards... first of all, his life."
Mike-L established the secure connection to the Corvus capitol.
"Connect me with Quirc Taranis. Don't ask any questions."
"Who the... OH DAMN." shouted Quirc as he saw Mike-L's face on the vidcomm screen.
"So you know who I am... Good. Let's get down to business then.", Mike-L said silently.
"What business?", Quirc replied.
Mike-L smiled and said: "Oh, so you are interested in what I might want from you...
I want to know how the Sarkens are connected to Lexicon."
Quirc closed his eyes. "Do you really want detailed information? It might destroy you in a glimpse of second."
"OF COURSE I WANT IT!", Mike-L shouted.
"Very well then. But remember: the price will be high no matter what you're gonna do.", replied Quirc, staring in Mike-L's eyes.
"I do NOT care. Do your task."
Mike-L closed the connection and started thinking.
"In the end, it might even blow up the Triumvirate. It is damn serious, but I must end their plans..."
I sat alone as always in my house. Life was as good as it was gonna get, people we're dying left and right, pirates activity was on the rise, the war was still hot as ever, and the hive was only gaining more and more power. And yet I couldn't remember the last time I had so much as laughed, I guess I was just to busy getting things taken care of to enjoy my self.
I had stopped trying to justify my self much any more it just confused me worse and made things harder, mostly I just tried not to think about the why but instead just focused on keeping busy so I wouldn't have to think.
"Some one's coming"
Ah yes and the voices, they too where only becoming stronger and stronger by the day, the more I isolated my self from humanity the more vocal they became. My only friends, and I didn't even know if they really liked me.
"Yes many some ones, they are coming for us."
"No one's coming guys, the house would have alerted me." I stated calmly.
"We must prepare they mean us harm!"
I mentally pulled up the main security feeds for the complex quickly scanning for any thing at all on my land. Then the power went out.
"We told us that they where coming."
"Shit, are they in the house yet?"
"Yes."
"Shit."
My night-vision ocular implants had already activated making my vision even in the almost obsidian black house clear as day, with out thinking I picked up an old earth model Remingtion 870 Home Defense shotgun I had as a wall hanger in the main hall way locked an loaded.
"How many?"
"Many, we not know how many."
I looked down at the shotty, it had an 8 round mag on it with number 9 in the chamber.
"We hear that? Us hear what we hear?"
"Yeah, I hear they been popping flashers since the lights went out. They're all over the damn place."
I slowly turned my night vision off and instead turned on my heat sensors. Looking around I saw that I had 6 men stacking up on the wall near the hall way fixing to enter my poor hiddie hole. I waited, surly if they could get this far into my complex they could see me just as I could see them.
"Drop the gun and place your hands on your head Mr. Sarken!"
"That's commander to you motherfucker!"
"Mr. Sarken we don't want to hurt you."
Bullshit I thought, the words we're not even out of his mouth as I saw him arming another flasher to chuck in the hall way. Grinning I mentally activated the reserve power generators for the building. As he pulled the pin every light in the house turned back on, along with the auto turrets. I waited 10 seconds chuckling as the guns blazed away all over the building eliminating any target they could see. Then I cut the power once more as I quickly moved to the end of the hall way.
No totally trusting robotic auto turrets I had against the manufactures recommendations not installed any on the inside of the main complex which included the hall, I was counting on the panic and confusion from the death and quick power change to create enough of an opening for me to move up with out being shot to bad.
Rounding the corner I shoved the gun into the soft tissue of the point mans neck and pulled the trigger. The 12 gauge double aught rounds sliced cleanly through his neck sending the severed head crashing to the floor as the bbs exited his body hitting the number 2 man in his helmet knocking him back into number 3. With out missing a beat I fired again and again into the gaggle of shocked Black Ops troopers. One of them must have had his head on straight because 7 rounds into my onslaught I found my self flat on my back with 5 rounds smoldering in my reinforced chest.
Rolling to the side I quickly pulled out my side arm a small Phase Mk3 Executive I had configured for full auto only. As I leveled my gun once again with the targets thankful none of the rounds exploding around me had hit yet I turned the power back on and pulled the trigger.
Bouncing up to my feet I quickly ran into the kitchen that was connected to the hall, with out thinking I reached up next to my pots and pans rack and grabbed the Axia Corp D35 that was hanging up there ready for such an emergency and slung it over my body while grabbing the spare two mags out of the silverware drawer.
With an over all length of 21 inches the bullpup style D35 was ideal for close quarter combat and the military grade caseless explosive armor piercing bullets I loaded each of the 50 round magazines with made the gun ideal for taking on the small army that had invaded my house.
But rather then get shot some more I had better plans, 50 feet below my kitchen was an elevator that would take me 300 more feet down into the planet where not only did I have a small hanger but also my underground bunker and safe house. The only thing I needed was a way down to the elevator.
I had stopped trying to justify my self much any more it just confused me worse and made things harder, mostly I just tried not to think about the why but instead just focused on keeping busy so I wouldn't have to think.
"Some one's coming"
Ah yes and the voices, they too where only becoming stronger and stronger by the day, the more I isolated my self from humanity the more vocal they became. My only friends, and I didn't even know if they really liked me.
"Yes many some ones, they are coming for us."
"No one's coming guys, the house would have alerted me." I stated calmly.
"We must prepare they mean us harm!"
I mentally pulled up the main security feeds for the complex quickly scanning for any thing at all on my land. Then the power went out.
"We told us that they where coming."
"Shit, are they in the house yet?"
"Yes."
"Shit."
My night-vision ocular implants had already activated making my vision even in the almost obsidian black house clear as day, with out thinking I picked up an old earth model Remingtion 870 Home Defense shotgun I had as a wall hanger in the main hall way locked an loaded.
"How many?"
"Many, we not know how many."
I looked down at the shotty, it had an 8 round mag on it with number 9 in the chamber.
"We hear that? Us hear what we hear?"
"Yeah, I hear they been popping flashers since the lights went out. They're all over the damn place."
I slowly turned my night vision off and instead turned on my heat sensors. Looking around I saw that I had 6 men stacking up on the wall near the hall way fixing to enter my poor hiddie hole. I waited, surly if they could get this far into my complex they could see me just as I could see them.
"Drop the gun and place your hands on your head Mr. Sarken!"
"That's commander to you motherfucker!"
"Mr. Sarken we don't want to hurt you."
Bullshit I thought, the words we're not even out of his mouth as I saw him arming another flasher to chuck in the hall way. Grinning I mentally activated the reserve power generators for the building. As he pulled the pin every light in the house turned back on, along with the auto turrets. I waited 10 seconds chuckling as the guns blazed away all over the building eliminating any target they could see. Then I cut the power once more as I quickly moved to the end of the hall way.
No totally trusting robotic auto turrets I had against the manufactures recommendations not installed any on the inside of the main complex which included the hall, I was counting on the panic and confusion from the death and quick power change to create enough of an opening for me to move up with out being shot to bad.
Rounding the corner I shoved the gun into the soft tissue of the point mans neck and pulled the trigger. The 12 gauge double aught rounds sliced cleanly through his neck sending the severed head crashing to the floor as the bbs exited his body hitting the number 2 man in his helmet knocking him back into number 3. With out missing a beat I fired again and again into the gaggle of shocked Black Ops troopers. One of them must have had his head on straight because 7 rounds into my onslaught I found my self flat on my back with 5 rounds smoldering in my reinforced chest.
Rolling to the side I quickly pulled out my side arm a small Phase Mk3 Executive I had configured for full auto only. As I leveled my gun once again with the targets thankful none of the rounds exploding around me had hit yet I turned the power back on and pulled the trigger.
Bouncing up to my feet I quickly ran into the kitchen that was connected to the hall, with out thinking I reached up next to my pots and pans rack and grabbed the Axia Corp D35 that was hanging up there ready for such an emergency and slung it over my body while grabbing the spare two mags out of the silverware drawer.
With an over all length of 21 inches the bullpup style D35 was ideal for close quarter combat and the military grade caseless explosive armor piercing bullets I loaded each of the 50 round magazines with made the gun ideal for taking on the small army that had invaded my house.
But rather then get shot some more I had better plans, 50 feet below my kitchen was an elevator that would take me 300 more feet down into the planet where not only did I have a small hanger but also my underground bunker and safe house. The only thing I needed was a way down to the elevator.