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Sol II: Sky Command Station.
3-Ring Command Section, 2143 hours.
The general was reviewing the latest casualty and performance reports from the Terradon incursions into Deneb when his ‘Incoming Inquiry’ indicator flash. He checked the urgency level display, and raised an eyebrow when it immediately went past ‘green’ and ‘amber’ and to ‘one red’. When he saw that it didn’t stop there, going to a full ‘two red’, he decided that either the Itani had landed on Serco Prime or one of his subordinates was feeling suicidal. Either way, the damn reports could wait… shooting an officer for abuse of the urgency system would provide at least 15 minutes of diversion from the mind-numbing figures and contingencies.
He barked a loud “Enter!” and the doors flew open, revealing a horror-struck Commander with an intel-pad in his hands. The look on his officer’s face was sufficient to get his attention: “Get in here and tell me what the Hell is wrong,” he snapped.
“Yes, sir! Sir, we… we just received word—and I confirmed it—that Dr. Lecter has gone rogue, he’s helping the Itani.” The commander looked at the general, anxiously awaiting some reply.
After staring at him for a half a beat, the general laughed. “Sweet Lady Serco! The look on your face… commander, what’s your name? You must be new here; Dr. Lecter is rogue every other month.”
The commander started to explain, “but, sir!…”
“Listen, son, the urgency system exists so that command-level officers can properly prioritize incoming communications. Lecter disobeying an order or failing to report, or even razing the population of a small station just does NOT qualify as a ‘two red’ incident. Honestly, I doubt it would even merit more than an amber. And there’s not a chance that Lecter, whatever he’s up to, is helping the Itani. All Lecter ever does for Itani is let them pick the flavor of BBQ sauce he coats them in. Now get the hell out of here before I decide to shoot you rather than look at these damn papers,” he said dismissively, turning back to his work.
“Sir, I understand all that, but this… Lecter hasn’t just pulled one of his usual stunts. We’ve gotten a lot of unusual chatter data related to Lecter or his agents over the past few days, and then this afternoon, we got word that he’d tanked his Serco standing and defected as of this morning.”
He looked up, confused. “Why would Lecter defect to the Itani? He just escaped from them after being put on trial for his life. More importantly, why should I or the rest of the Triumvirate care?”
The commander swallowed, looked at the glare the general was giving him, saw his hand straying towards the service weapon on his desk, and quickly blurted it out. “Sir, all of Dr. Lecter’s war materiel and equipment are gone from Sol II, Helios and Geria Retulius.” He paused. “Uh, sir…all of it.”
The meaning of what the man was trying to convey began to dawn on the still-seated general. “WHAT?! You mean to tell me Lecter picked up and left, heading to the Itani with all of his research and equipment relating to the NSI.”
“Yes, sir. That’s why I felt you needed to hear this at once. Our intel indicates that several Itani factions have been attempting to revive the NSI program, using materials from Deep Blue and black market sources. Until now, there’s been no real problem, they haven’t stood a chance of accomplishing anything. But with Lecter’s help and gear…”
Mind racing, the general grabbed the intel-pad and scanned it. “Ok, so Lecter’s moved all 24,000 cu of heliocene out of Helios and GR, either by transport or liquidation. All other rare ore stocks have been likewise moved, and…Gods…he shipped 243 cu of samoflange!”
“Yes, but we don’t know where he moved it all. We’re assuming to a gray space location, until he has established sufficient ties to begin operating out of Itani space.”
“Get looking for it. Lecter makes frequent use of his ore supplies for liquid credits and research; find his current stockpile and he’ll be nearby. And where ever he is, his NSI schematics and prototypes won’t be too far off. What’s the rest of this stuff?”
Pulling up the data on the overhead, and now more composed without a Triumvirate member looking for an excuse to execute him, the commander began. “The past week saw Lecter move his more sensitive cashes of weapons and ships out of the stations in GR. Mainly older, more carefully crafter versions of the Sky Command Prometheus, before our demand requirements required, uh, quality control compromises. Older Runes, a lot of the higher capacity sunflare launchers, set up to run on the less environmentally friendly but more compact flares. Generally the stuff he would least want captured after his defection became known… he also moved a fleet of IDF Valks out of GR. Not sure if they’re fitted with the old, space-fabric damaging high performance engines. Nothing unusual there, and still no idea where he stashed them.
“As far as we can tell, Lecter must have been more upset by the fallout from his trial than we’d presumed. While he never really held most of [SCAR] in high regard, he did find them useful. The Dominion’s pressure on his guild, leading to his dismissal, probably angered him. And the sanctioning of Mecha Tourauis’s assassination attempts on Borb Sarken and Lecter couldn’t have helped matters. It looks like he just snapped and decided to take the Dominion out in retaliation.
“Also, there were a number of items missing when we raided his estate in Pacifica earlier this morning. The safe was empty, and the tapes of the incident with the Corvus bar-wench were gone. Our intel also indicated he’d taken the casket of Tonie Velaio with him. We know he loved to use it as an ottoman; but strangely, he left the Itani-hide chair behind.
“Finally, sir, there’s been some activity as far as chatter pertaining to Dr. Lecter. The shipments of premium XiRite alloy, a few thousand cus worth, he had safely delivered to the deeper Itani military installations are pretty obvious bribes, and he’ll probably be welcome there now as long as he stays under the radar. Lecter also arranged for a shipment of several thousand crates of Itan™ brand fresh juice to be smuggled into gray space. We're assuming that's incidental, a cooking fling; you know how he gets when he discovers some new marinade recipe, sir. But the last item, I can’t make heads or tails out of.”
“What is it, son?”
“Sir, just before he departed Sol II today, Dr. Lecter raided the horticultural preserve at the University, killing eight guards and two botanical geneticists. One of the geneticists had just succeeded in recreating the DNA of a long extinct plant species; Lecter destroyed his research, killed him and his assistant, and took off with the only DNA samples. But the plant isn’t anything special! It’s not toxic to Serco or Itani, and it has no medicinal properties. They were just using it as an exercise in DNA reconstruction. I think it was called a ‘blue agave’, a sort of cactus, sir. Why would Lecter risk his defection being compromised just to steal some plant DNA?”
Both officers sat for a moment, puzzled by Lecter’s bizarre behavior. The general broke the silence. “Get all of our units on the lookout for Lecter, and task some intel units to hunt him down and find him. While you’re at it, call up Professor Mifune Toshiro and Baron Sarken… they got some knowledge of the science behind this mess. I want to know the worst case scenario if we don’t prevent Lecter from getting this stuff to the smurfs.”
3-Ring Command Section, 2143 hours.
The general was reviewing the latest casualty and performance reports from the Terradon incursions into Deneb when his ‘Incoming Inquiry’ indicator flash. He checked the urgency level display, and raised an eyebrow when it immediately went past ‘green’ and ‘amber’ and to ‘one red’. When he saw that it didn’t stop there, going to a full ‘two red’, he decided that either the Itani had landed on Serco Prime or one of his subordinates was feeling suicidal. Either way, the damn reports could wait… shooting an officer for abuse of the urgency system would provide at least 15 minutes of diversion from the mind-numbing figures and contingencies.
He barked a loud “Enter!” and the doors flew open, revealing a horror-struck Commander with an intel-pad in his hands. The look on his officer’s face was sufficient to get his attention: “Get in here and tell me what the Hell is wrong,” he snapped.
“Yes, sir! Sir, we… we just received word—and I confirmed it—that Dr. Lecter has gone rogue, he’s helping the Itani.” The commander looked at the general, anxiously awaiting some reply.
After staring at him for a half a beat, the general laughed. “Sweet Lady Serco! The look on your face… commander, what’s your name? You must be new here; Dr. Lecter is rogue every other month.”
The commander started to explain, “but, sir!…”
“Listen, son, the urgency system exists so that command-level officers can properly prioritize incoming communications. Lecter disobeying an order or failing to report, or even razing the population of a small station just does NOT qualify as a ‘two red’ incident. Honestly, I doubt it would even merit more than an amber. And there’s not a chance that Lecter, whatever he’s up to, is helping the Itani. All Lecter ever does for Itani is let them pick the flavor of BBQ sauce he coats them in. Now get the hell out of here before I decide to shoot you rather than look at these damn papers,” he said dismissively, turning back to his work.
“Sir, I understand all that, but this… Lecter hasn’t just pulled one of his usual stunts. We’ve gotten a lot of unusual chatter data related to Lecter or his agents over the past few days, and then this afternoon, we got word that he’d tanked his Serco standing and defected as of this morning.”
He looked up, confused. “Why would Lecter defect to the Itani? He just escaped from them after being put on trial for his life. More importantly, why should I or the rest of the Triumvirate care?”
The commander swallowed, looked at the glare the general was giving him, saw his hand straying towards the service weapon on his desk, and quickly blurted it out. “Sir, all of Dr. Lecter’s war materiel and equipment are gone from Sol II, Helios and Geria Retulius.” He paused. “Uh, sir…all of it.”
The meaning of what the man was trying to convey began to dawn on the still-seated general. “WHAT?! You mean to tell me Lecter picked up and left, heading to the Itani with all of his research and equipment relating to the NSI.”
“Yes, sir. That’s why I felt you needed to hear this at once. Our intel indicates that several Itani factions have been attempting to revive the NSI program, using materials from Deep Blue and black market sources. Until now, there’s been no real problem, they haven’t stood a chance of accomplishing anything. But with Lecter’s help and gear…”
Mind racing, the general grabbed the intel-pad and scanned it. “Ok, so Lecter’s moved all 24,000 cu of heliocene out of Helios and GR, either by transport or liquidation. All other rare ore stocks have been likewise moved, and…Gods…he shipped 243 cu of samoflange!”
“Yes, but we don’t know where he moved it all. We’re assuming to a gray space location, until he has established sufficient ties to begin operating out of Itani space.”
“Get looking for it. Lecter makes frequent use of his ore supplies for liquid credits and research; find his current stockpile and he’ll be nearby. And where ever he is, his NSI schematics and prototypes won’t be too far off. What’s the rest of this stuff?”
Pulling up the data on the overhead, and now more composed without a Triumvirate member looking for an excuse to execute him, the commander began. “The past week saw Lecter move his more sensitive cashes of weapons and ships out of the stations in GR. Mainly older, more carefully crafter versions of the Sky Command Prometheus, before our demand requirements required, uh, quality control compromises. Older Runes, a lot of the higher capacity sunflare launchers, set up to run on the less environmentally friendly but more compact flares. Generally the stuff he would least want captured after his defection became known… he also moved a fleet of IDF Valks out of GR. Not sure if they’re fitted with the old, space-fabric damaging high performance engines. Nothing unusual there, and still no idea where he stashed them.
“As far as we can tell, Lecter must have been more upset by the fallout from his trial than we’d presumed. While he never really held most of [SCAR] in high regard, he did find them useful. The Dominion’s pressure on his guild, leading to his dismissal, probably angered him. And the sanctioning of Mecha Tourauis’s assassination attempts on Borb Sarken and Lecter couldn’t have helped matters. It looks like he just snapped and decided to take the Dominion out in retaliation.
“Also, there were a number of items missing when we raided his estate in Pacifica earlier this morning. The safe was empty, and the tapes of the incident with the Corvus bar-wench were gone. Our intel also indicated he’d taken the casket of Tonie Velaio with him. We know he loved to use it as an ottoman; but strangely, he left the Itani-hide chair behind.
“Finally, sir, there’s been some activity as far as chatter pertaining to Dr. Lecter. The shipments of premium XiRite alloy, a few thousand cus worth, he had safely delivered to the deeper Itani military installations are pretty obvious bribes, and he’ll probably be welcome there now as long as he stays under the radar. Lecter also arranged for a shipment of several thousand crates of Itan™ brand fresh juice to be smuggled into gray space. We're assuming that's incidental, a cooking fling; you know how he gets when he discovers some new marinade recipe, sir. But the last item, I can’t make heads or tails out of.”
“What is it, son?”
“Sir, just before he departed Sol II today, Dr. Lecter raided the horticultural preserve at the University, killing eight guards and two botanical geneticists. One of the geneticists had just succeeded in recreating the DNA of a long extinct plant species; Lecter destroyed his research, killed him and his assistant, and took off with the only DNA samples. But the plant isn’t anything special! It’s not toxic to Serco or Itani, and it has no medicinal properties. They were just using it as an exercise in DNA reconstruction. I think it was called a ‘blue agave’, a sort of cactus, sir. Why would Lecter risk his defection being compromised just to steal some plant DNA?”
Both officers sat for a moment, puzzled by Lecter’s bizarre behavior. The general broke the silence. “Get all of our units on the lookout for Lecter, and task some intel units to hunt him down and find him. While you’re at it, call up Professor Mifune Toshiro and Baron Sarken… they got some knowledge of the science behind this mess. I want to know the worst case scenario if we don’t prevent Lecter from getting this stuff to the smurfs.”
Bractus System, sector D-9.
Corvus controlled station, section unknown.
With a final flick of the re-router, the tall figure in a dirty gray cloak disabled the atmospheric sensors in the suite. Pausing to take a quick measurement of the long central window in the common area, it moved to the room�s exterior door and enabled a portable field generator. The humming blue field sealed the room off from the rest of the station as effectively as an undocking bay. Moving back to the center window, it severed the heads of the connecting bolts anchoring the material into its vacuum-proof frame seal. Satisfied with the preparations, the shrouded individual deactivated the field generator, set it for a timer, and shutting off the lights as the doors opened, departed, gliding down the station halls, legs hidden beneath the seemingly endless material of the robe, towards the hanger deck.
There, it approached a matte-black anodized Warthog Mk II, and punched in the required code sequence. After entering the cockpit and lowering the one-way material back over the pilot�s seat, Dr. Lecter pulled back his hood, fired up his engines and piloted out on a standard departure vector. Once beyond the sensor range of the station and its lone guard pilot, he zoomed in on the station�s numerous windows until he found the one he wanted. The Doctor set the thrust vector necessary, checked his cargo hold contents one last time, made sure of the patrol path of the station guard and engaged the turbo drive. Almost instantly, the Warthog was heading towards the station at 220 m/s.
�Timing has to be perfect on this one,� he thought, eyeing the black vulture of the guard, who was just starting to eclipse out of his line of sight behind the approaching bulk of the station. At the last second, Lecter slammed on the brakes and decelerated to a halt against the glass of his room; at what would have been the precise moment of impact, he ejected the contents of his cargo bay. A fast charge battery and mega-positron blaster floated off into space, and a small explosive device detonated against the hull of the station. Dr. Lecter could almost see the station�s flight control officer shaking his head, as the sensors informed him that yet another amateur pilot had learned the hard way that high speed maneuvering is best left to racing professionals.
Grinning, he quickly nudged the now unsecured glass with the nose of his hog, pushing it off its mounts and into the open space of the suite. The room vented all of its atmosphere into space in a split second, though all the furnishments were secured with adhesive and the blue field at the door prevented the decompression from leaking further into the station. As the glass of the window floated freely over the couch, Lecter guided the ship through the window frame and settled it in the living room of his suite. He pulled on an environmental suit, popped the ship�s canopy and managed to refit the glass before the station guard�s never-ending orbit gave him a visual.
The spoofed sensors happily continued to report normal oxygen, temperature and pressure readings to the station�s monitoring systems, as the Doctor activated the auto-mirror feature on his room�s windows and restored normal atmospherics to the suite. Finally, all was secure: he had a covert base of operations that could be instantly depressurized and blasted out of, not to mention the firepower of a fighter craft indoors. He chuckled as he considered just how severe a rebuke he would give the Corvus maid foolish enough to ignore the �Do Not Disturb� door hanger.
Sitting down in the ship, he energized the communications package and started composing messages to what would be, he was sure, three very confused Itani. Not that it was entirely necessary, Lecter mused. While would probably have to contact Mogul Velaio directly, since Mogul was still more or less disconnected from galactic events, LeberMac had been eyeing that botanical project ever since he learned of it. The chance alone to get his drunken hands on that DNA sample would get him to contact Lecter. And the possibility for [ITAN] to exploit what had been written off as a lost advantage in the NSI would have the new commander, Smittens, on the comm in no time. When the intelligence filtered back to the Itani about his disappearance and the fact that the Dominion was somehow massively upset by this seemingly normal event, they were almost sure to make the connection and get in touch.
�Almost. They are Itani, after-all,� Lecter thought, annoyed by the risk the Serco posed, should the smurfs be slow on the uptake.
Corvus controlled station, section unknown.
With a final flick of the re-router, the tall figure in a dirty gray cloak disabled the atmospheric sensors in the suite. Pausing to take a quick measurement of the long central window in the common area, it moved to the room�s exterior door and enabled a portable field generator. The humming blue field sealed the room off from the rest of the station as effectively as an undocking bay. Moving back to the center window, it severed the heads of the connecting bolts anchoring the material into its vacuum-proof frame seal. Satisfied with the preparations, the shrouded individual deactivated the field generator, set it for a timer, and shutting off the lights as the doors opened, departed, gliding down the station halls, legs hidden beneath the seemingly endless material of the robe, towards the hanger deck.
There, it approached a matte-black anodized Warthog Mk II, and punched in the required code sequence. After entering the cockpit and lowering the one-way material back over the pilot�s seat, Dr. Lecter pulled back his hood, fired up his engines and piloted out on a standard departure vector. Once beyond the sensor range of the station and its lone guard pilot, he zoomed in on the station�s numerous windows until he found the one he wanted. The Doctor set the thrust vector necessary, checked his cargo hold contents one last time, made sure of the patrol path of the station guard and engaged the turbo drive. Almost instantly, the Warthog was heading towards the station at 220 m/s.
�Timing has to be perfect on this one,� he thought, eyeing the black vulture of the guard, who was just starting to eclipse out of his line of sight behind the approaching bulk of the station. At the last second, Lecter slammed on the brakes and decelerated to a halt against the glass of his room; at what would have been the precise moment of impact, he ejected the contents of his cargo bay. A fast charge battery and mega-positron blaster floated off into space, and a small explosive device detonated against the hull of the station. Dr. Lecter could almost see the station�s flight control officer shaking his head, as the sensors informed him that yet another amateur pilot had learned the hard way that high speed maneuvering is best left to racing professionals.
Grinning, he quickly nudged the now unsecured glass with the nose of his hog, pushing it off its mounts and into the open space of the suite. The room vented all of its atmosphere into space in a split second, though all the furnishments were secured with adhesive and the blue field at the door prevented the decompression from leaking further into the station. As the glass of the window floated freely over the couch, Lecter guided the ship through the window frame and settled it in the living room of his suite. He pulled on an environmental suit, popped the ship�s canopy and managed to refit the glass before the station guard�s never-ending orbit gave him a visual.
The spoofed sensors happily continued to report normal oxygen, temperature and pressure readings to the station�s monitoring systems, as the Doctor activated the auto-mirror feature on his room�s windows and restored normal atmospherics to the suite. Finally, all was secure: he had a covert base of operations that could be instantly depressurized and blasted out of, not to mention the firepower of a fighter craft indoors. He chuckled as he considered just how severe a rebuke he would give the Corvus maid foolish enough to ignore the �Do Not Disturb� door hanger.
Sitting down in the ship, he energized the communications package and started composing messages to what would be, he was sure, three very confused Itani. Not that it was entirely necessary, Lecter mused. While would probably have to contact Mogul Velaio directly, since Mogul was still more or less disconnected from galactic events, LeberMac had been eyeing that botanical project ever since he learned of it. The chance alone to get his drunken hands on that DNA sample would get him to contact Lecter. And the possibility for [ITAN] to exploit what had been written off as a lost advantage in the NSI would have the new commander, Smittens, on the comm in no time. When the intelligence filtered back to the Itani about his disappearance and the fact that the Dominion was somehow massively upset by this seemingly normal event, they were almost sure to make the connection and get in touch.
�Almost. They are Itani, after-all,� Lecter thought, annoyed by the risk the Serco posed, should the smurfs be slow on the uptake.
"Kill kill kill!"
I screamed into my internal comm as I quickly jumped into a prom and prepared to take part in Border Skirmish mission number 3 of the day. Then I received an incoming call of the highest priority. A call that would only come from one of The Three.
"Sarken!"
I leaned back in my pilots seat and annoyed with his tone called him by his first name and let the words hang in the air. I could tell his day was no going well as he said.
"I do believe I have a title, and am not on a first name basis with you."
"As do I."
He sighed as I smiled.
"Almighty Great Commander Baron Sarken of the nether realms I wish to take up some of your time with a petty question."
I could tell he was patronizing me all the while trying to play to my ego, at the same time I have a sense of humor, and well I did not have all the time in the world he undoubtedly had, as I still worked for a living so I accepted it.
"Yes?"
"What is Dr. Lecter doing, and do you too have plans to defect to the Itani."
"Why would I defect, and why would I know or care what Lecter is doing?"
"We know you maintain contact with Lecter..."
"As do I with you, how ever that does not mean I know the last time you had sex now does it?"
"Just tell me what he's up to."
"And maybe you can tell me why hit men keep knocking on my door from you guys."
"Or maybe you and your family could be banned from Serco space..."
He let his words trail off as I got rather mad. I never really liked threats, even if he did intended to make good on them or not it still was not some thing I liked.
"And maybe I'll defect to the Itani after watching to drown in a pool of your own blood. Have a nice day."
I then ended the call.
Hours later I sat at my estate on Betheshee in my favorite place, my computer room. Banks of holo projectors flooded the room with information. As they say information is power, and this the core of my estate showed very clearly I loved power. A small raid on Dr. Lecter's house in Sol II that morning had procured no information, other then that which was already known. Lecter was gone, and it seemed to Itani space.
A small DNA lab had been raided by what was believed to have been Lecer, again showing that he had only stolen some insignificant plant. I how ever could not help but think back to his ingenuity with Samo, in shielding from the NSI. What ever he was up to we could all rest assured with the fact that he knew what he was doing. How ever wither or not it was going to be good for us or not was debatable.
Lecter may or may not be utterly evil but one thing I know for sure is that he is a genus, and this war needs people like him. How ever this new wrinkle did provide a new twist to things. Slowly I updated the ST6 KOS list to include Dr. Lecter at the top. At the least it would provide good training for my boys, and it's not like we leave the Deneb area that much any way so we won't see him much. But just in case he really does decide to go nuts, I'd rather lose him then one of my boys.
ST6, my real friends that's what they are. I can't think of one of them I would not joyfully die for. Even most of the recruits I know that are not spys attempting to gain information I would die for. They are men and women that I can trust to have my back no matter what. I would not let any thing hurt the team, not my nation, not a mad man, or men... Or women. Nothing will hurt my boys unopposed as long as I have breath with in my lungs.
I hit the send button on the KOS list update, as I did a the new message sign lit up on my inbox.
I screamed into my internal comm as I quickly jumped into a prom and prepared to take part in Border Skirmish mission number 3 of the day. Then I received an incoming call of the highest priority. A call that would only come from one of The Three.
"Sarken!"
I leaned back in my pilots seat and annoyed with his tone called him by his first name and let the words hang in the air. I could tell his day was no going well as he said.
"I do believe I have a title, and am not on a first name basis with you."
"As do I."
He sighed as I smiled.
"Almighty Great Commander Baron Sarken of the nether realms I wish to take up some of your time with a petty question."
I could tell he was patronizing me all the while trying to play to my ego, at the same time I have a sense of humor, and well I did not have all the time in the world he undoubtedly had, as I still worked for a living so I accepted it.
"Yes?"
"What is Dr. Lecter doing, and do you too have plans to defect to the Itani."
"Why would I defect, and why would I know or care what Lecter is doing?"
"We know you maintain contact with Lecter..."
"As do I with you, how ever that does not mean I know the last time you had sex now does it?"
"Just tell me what he's up to."
"And maybe you can tell me why hit men keep knocking on my door from you guys."
"Or maybe you and your family could be banned from Serco space..."
He let his words trail off as I got rather mad. I never really liked threats, even if he did intended to make good on them or not it still was not some thing I liked.
"And maybe I'll defect to the Itani after watching to drown in a pool of your own blood. Have a nice day."
I then ended the call.
Hours later I sat at my estate on Betheshee in my favorite place, my computer room. Banks of holo projectors flooded the room with information. As they say information is power, and this the core of my estate showed very clearly I loved power. A small raid on Dr. Lecter's house in Sol II that morning had procured no information, other then that which was already known. Lecter was gone, and it seemed to Itani space.
A small DNA lab had been raided by what was believed to have been Lecer, again showing that he had only stolen some insignificant plant. I how ever could not help but think back to his ingenuity with Samo, in shielding from the NSI. What ever he was up to we could all rest assured with the fact that he knew what he was doing. How ever wither or not it was going to be good for us or not was debatable.
Lecter may or may not be utterly evil but one thing I know for sure is that he is a genus, and this war needs people like him. How ever this new wrinkle did provide a new twist to things. Slowly I updated the ST6 KOS list to include Dr. Lecter at the top. At the least it would provide good training for my boys, and it's not like we leave the Deneb area that much any way so we won't see him much. But just in case he really does decide to go nuts, I'd rather lose him then one of my boys.
ST6, my real friends that's what they are. I can't think of one of them I would not joyfully die for. Even most of the recruits I know that are not spys attempting to gain information I would die for. They are men and women that I can trust to have my back no matter what. I would not let any thing hurt the team, not my nation, not a mad man, or men... Or women. Nothing will hurt my boys unopposed as long as I have breath with in my lungs.
I hit the send button on the KOS list update, as I did a the new message sign lit up on my inbox.
Bractus system, Corvus station.
Unidentified luxury suite, 2358 hours.
Contrasting with the dim firelight from the hearth in the next room, the door buzzer light caught Lecter’s attention like a beacon. Rising from the low table he’d set up next to the hulking presence of his ship, he crossed the living room with a remote in his off hand. Lecter powered up the Warthog’s mega-positron blaster, pointed directly at the entrance to the suite. The life sign outside was consistent with an Itani’s presence; he stepped to one side and opened the door.
Smittens started forward, squinting in the darkened room, eyes adjusting; “Doc, are you in he… SHIT!” Almost walking into the business end of the Hog’s L port, the commander of [ITAN] hit the deck and rolled for cover before Lecter’s amused laughter told him that a firefight with the ship wouldn’t be necessary. “Smittens, I can’t wait to show you the look on your face. Thank Gods I put a camera in the S port! Would you like me to order up some new pants for you?”
Smittens growled something noncommittal about the proffered change of underwear. He remained on the floor behind the sofa, eyeing the black ship hunkered down low over its landing struts, power systems eerily suggestive of a living creature—a very unfriendly creature at that. “What the HELL is a WARTHOG doing in your living room! Can’t you just have a doorbell like a normal person, or maybe just a doorman? How’d you get them to assemble it in here for you, anyway?”
Lecter gave one of his frequent chuckles. “You be surprised what ‘room service’ means on a Corvus station. I’d apologize for the surprise, but I can’t afford to be too careful. I’ve got most of the Dominion’s special teams, including Borb of all people, looking for me because of that,” he gestured towards one of the items on the table, “and besides, your reaction really was funny as Hell.”
Smittens started to pick himself up, dusting off the nondescript coveralls that hid his [ITAN] uniform. “Whatever you asked me here for had better be worth it,” he spat at Lecter. He looked at the table, which had three items resting on it: a greenish-blue plant in a clay pot, a polished black oblong box, and a small electronic device nestled in a case. Beneath each item, the remote detonator on a shaped charge blinked incessantly.
“Is… is that what I” he began; Dr. Lecter cut him off. “Yes, yes, it is. But for now, take a seat and behave.” Lecter held up the remote, “It’s rather irreplaceable, and I’m in a position to decide whether it continues to exist. Once the others get here, we can all have a nice little chat. Go throw a log on the fire, and then get back in here. You’ll forgive me for the mega-posi stunt when you get to watch Leber’s reaction!”
Smittens screeched to a halt and spun in the doorframe. “WHAT! Leber? Here? I’m the commander of [ITAN] for Eo’s sake. I can’t be seen by Leber, of all people, meeting with you!” Dropping the stick of sythwood, he broke for the door out of the suite, only to be deafened by a massive positron impact on the wall, less than a foot from his head. Smittens came to a stop and slooooowly turned to face the Doctor.
“Smitty, relax. You’re not going anywhere. LeberMac isn’t going to be upset with your meeting me, and he’s not going to tell your guild. He’d have to explain why he was here with me if he did that. Besides, given why I’m here, [ITAN] isn’t going to be in a position to object to its three top officers paying me a visit.” Lecter tossed the synthwood back to him. “Toss this on there, I’ll get you something to drink.”
Looking at the fire, it struck Smittens that Lecter had said “three officers” and looked back at the Doctor, his voice echoing out into the living room. “Three. Who else is coming, Lecter?” From a large chair next to the ship, Lecter pointed to the ominous black box laid on the table. “Who would you guess, Smittens?”
Dr. Lecter smiled; “Technically, I should have said ‘top two officers of [ITAN] and one rogue former commander’, but why complicate it. You make sure Leber behaves himself; when we’re done chatting, Mogul is leaving here unbothered and unfollowed by [ITAN].” Smittens let out a long breath, and grabbed a seat on the couch with a good view of the door. At least he would get to see Leber’s face when he came in, and that alone might be worth all this.
Unidentified luxury suite, 2358 hours.
Contrasting with the dim firelight from the hearth in the next room, the door buzzer light caught Lecter’s attention like a beacon. Rising from the low table he’d set up next to the hulking presence of his ship, he crossed the living room with a remote in his off hand. Lecter powered up the Warthog’s mega-positron blaster, pointed directly at the entrance to the suite. The life sign outside was consistent with an Itani’s presence; he stepped to one side and opened the door.
Smittens started forward, squinting in the darkened room, eyes adjusting; “Doc, are you in he… SHIT!” Almost walking into the business end of the Hog’s L port, the commander of [ITAN] hit the deck and rolled for cover before Lecter’s amused laughter told him that a firefight with the ship wouldn’t be necessary. “Smittens, I can’t wait to show you the look on your face. Thank Gods I put a camera in the S port! Would you like me to order up some new pants for you?”
Smittens growled something noncommittal about the proffered change of underwear. He remained on the floor behind the sofa, eyeing the black ship hunkered down low over its landing struts, power systems eerily suggestive of a living creature—a very unfriendly creature at that. “What the HELL is a WARTHOG doing in your living room! Can’t you just have a doorbell like a normal person, or maybe just a doorman? How’d you get them to assemble it in here for you, anyway?”
Lecter gave one of his frequent chuckles. “You be surprised what ‘room service’ means on a Corvus station. I’d apologize for the surprise, but I can’t afford to be too careful. I’ve got most of the Dominion’s special teams, including Borb of all people, looking for me because of that,” he gestured towards one of the items on the table, “and besides, your reaction really was funny as Hell.”
Smittens started to pick himself up, dusting off the nondescript coveralls that hid his [ITAN] uniform. “Whatever you asked me here for had better be worth it,” he spat at Lecter. He looked at the table, which had three items resting on it: a greenish-blue plant in a clay pot, a polished black oblong box, and a small electronic device nestled in a case. Beneath each item, the remote detonator on a shaped charge blinked incessantly.
“Is… is that what I” he began; Dr. Lecter cut him off. “Yes, yes, it is. But for now, take a seat and behave.” Lecter held up the remote, “It’s rather irreplaceable, and I’m in a position to decide whether it continues to exist. Once the others get here, we can all have a nice little chat. Go throw a log on the fire, and then get back in here. You’ll forgive me for the mega-posi stunt when you get to watch Leber’s reaction!”
Smittens screeched to a halt and spun in the doorframe. “WHAT! Leber? Here? I’m the commander of [ITAN] for Eo’s sake. I can’t be seen by Leber, of all people, meeting with you!” Dropping the stick of sythwood, he broke for the door out of the suite, only to be deafened by a massive positron impact on the wall, less than a foot from his head. Smittens came to a stop and slooooowly turned to face the Doctor.
“Smitty, relax. You’re not going anywhere. LeberMac isn’t going to be upset with your meeting me, and he’s not going to tell your guild. He’d have to explain why he was here with me if he did that. Besides, given why I’m here, [ITAN] isn’t going to be in a position to object to its three top officers paying me a visit.” Lecter tossed the synthwood back to him. “Toss this on there, I’ll get you something to drink.”
Looking at the fire, it struck Smittens that Lecter had said “three officers” and looked back at the Doctor, his voice echoing out into the living room. “Three. Who else is coming, Lecter?” From a large chair next to the ship, Lecter pointed to the ominous black box laid on the table. “Who would you guess, Smittens?”
Dr. Lecter smiled; “Technically, I should have said ‘top two officers of [ITAN] and one rogue former commander’, but why complicate it. You make sure Leber behaves himself; when we’re done chatting, Mogul is leaving here unbothered and unfollowed by [ITAN].” Smittens let out a long breath, and grabbed a seat on the couch with a good view of the door. At least he would get to see Leber’s face when he came in, and that alone might be worth all this.
OOC This thread temporarily merges elements from page 2 of the Lonely thread: http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/13420?page=2
...
...
"But you can't! Not now! After all we've done for you!!" said the Sympathetic Eo hallucination.
But Mogul was determined to go face the yoyo nemesis. This particular time and date, offering something dear to him. Mogul hated unstable people. Too hard to predict he thought.
"This time he's the one that wont foresee the little surprise I have for him." he told the grinning Evil Akan hallucination.
"I tell you it's a trap" said the talkin Placebo-Xin bottle. "If I wanted to make a quick dime, I'd capture you and deliver you to [ITAN]. You're better off here. With me. Coasy. Here. Take a dose, I'm sure you'll like it."
Mogul ignored his Council and decided to get showered and dressed. He had decided not to shave just to make his movements easier in the station but, in general, nobody cared. Still, a nice clean trimm gave him a near-respectable look. Though he knew Lecter would not get fooled.
After packing a sports bag, Mogul turned around and vociferated "Nobody follows me! You all stay put right here.", pointing his finger at his hallucinatory council.
The surprise on the station attendant, now more Mogul's private butler in the station, was more to the fact that this time Mogul dared speak out loud in the presence of a third party. Wich only confirmed one thing. His well-paying customer was really alone in his room and not underpaying the station costs. What a weirdo he thought.
Attendant Spirioux led Mogul two floors up, to room 2839. That level had a substancial amount of luxury compared to Mogul's deck-level room. The Attendant waited for his customary 200 credits tip but instead received four times that amount. Stunned, he asked "What's this?"
-This is a message I need you to deliver on open waves. You need to wire this to an Itani pilot called 'upper case'. Half these credits are yours and the other for you to pay anyone you have to bribe to deliver this message pronto. Keep the change. And stay off this deck. It's may get messy."
As the Corvus Attendant turned the corner at the end of the hall, Mogul pulled out the content of his bag. It was a rocket war head. It's fuse unlocked and impact detonator attached to a small bracelet on Mogul's hand.
"I'm gonna scare the shit out of you, bastard." he thought. Then knocked on the door imagining the horrifying look on Lecter when he'll see Mogul had enough firepower in his hand to blow him to bits.
But Mogul was determined to go face the yoyo nemesis. This particular time and date, offering something dear to him. Mogul hated unstable people. Too hard to predict he thought.
"This time he's the one that wont foresee the little surprise I have for him." he told the grinning Evil Akan hallucination.
"I tell you it's a trap" said the talkin Placebo-Xin bottle. "If I wanted to make a quick dime, I'd capture you and deliver you to [ITAN]. You're better off here. With me. Coasy. Here. Take a dose, I'm sure you'll like it."
Mogul ignored his Council and decided to get showered and dressed. He had decided not to shave just to make his movements easier in the station but, in general, nobody cared. Still, a nice clean trimm gave him a near-respectable look. Though he knew Lecter would not get fooled.
After packing a sports bag, Mogul turned around and vociferated "Nobody follows me! You all stay put right here.", pointing his finger at his hallucinatory council.
The surprise on the station attendant, now more Mogul's private butler in the station, was more to the fact that this time Mogul dared speak out loud in the presence of a third party. Wich only confirmed one thing. His well-paying customer was really alone in his room and not underpaying the station costs. What a weirdo he thought.
Attendant Spirioux led Mogul two floors up, to room 2839. That level had a substancial amount of luxury compared to Mogul's deck-level room. The Attendant waited for his customary 200 credits tip but instead received four times that amount. Stunned, he asked "What's this?"
-This is a message I need you to deliver on open waves. You need to wire this to an Itani pilot called 'upper case'. Half these credits are yours and the other for you to pay anyone you have to bribe to deliver this message pronto. Keep the change. And stay off this deck. It's may get messy."
As the Corvus Attendant turned the corner at the end of the hall, Mogul pulled out the content of his bag. It was a rocket war head. It's fuse unlocked and impact detonator attached to a small bracelet on Mogul's hand.
"I'm gonna scare the shit out of you, bastard." he thought. Then knocked on the door imagining the horrifying look on Lecter when he'll see Mogul had enough firepower in his hand to blow him to bits.
It had been a good weekend.
These kinds of weekends usually are, you know, the kind of weekends when you know that you had fun, but can't quite remember exactly what went down. He recalled that he'd gone to Cantus for that celebration of celebrations, Cinco de Mayo. It's true origins were lost in the millennia, but the excuse for partying had lasted through the years, like all good holidays. Except that THIS holiday had an ancient connection to the one thing in this universe that really mattered to him. The one thing that he had some deep respect for, the one thing that made all the fighting and dying and paperwork of his day job as [ITAN]'s Lieutenant worthwhile.
Tequila.
More precisely, it was the coming home to the tequila and pouring himself a shot of it part that he liked. The third and seventh shots were particularly good as well, and at about the time that he would lose count, he would lose consciousness and wake up to a new day to trudge through. Since Smittens had been away and the paperwork had piled up, he'd been drinking a little more to help with the stress. He didn't know if it was helping, but the extra drinking had been fun, so he'd chalked it up to a positive side-effect.
Today had been a light day as these things go, he'd made it through a couple rounds of Border Patrol, wasted 75 of the idiot guise-piloted Serco fighters, and then made it back into the dock for repairs and a shower before hitting the almighty paperwork. The bright white envelope with the super-secret plans from the higher-up suits still sat on his desk unopened, waiting for Smittens. He resolved to open it up tomorrow if Smitty hadn't returned, otherwise that uppity Borano guy was gonna come back and start asking pointed questions. LeberMac hated pointed questions, especially when they were pointed at him. He finished up the last rounds of flight-patrol scheduling and was about to begin assigning long-range sector scanning duty when he got an emergency page from Deep Blue.
The most powerful supercomputer in known space, the Deep Blue Universal Automatic Computer had fallen into LeberMac's hands when he was its caretaker in the Itani Alliance. After the [IDF] merger, it had fallen into disrepair as funding dried up after the Neural Spike incident. He'd taken it upon himself to maintain and operate the machine, and it had been his baby ever since. He'd spent several fortunes on it to keep it upgraded and in top working order, and he did NOT like getting emergency alerts regarding system failures.
"Awwww. Crap. Another gor'am segfault. I swear, I'll write the damn scripts myself this time..." He could have done the reboot remotely, but he liked to be there with the computer to make sure things worked properly. It was not immediately explainable, but he felt that the computer... enjoyed his presence. Almost as if it threw the faults in order to summon him to its side. "Bah." he said out loud. That was crazy talk. Nothing for it, however, but to head to Divinia to do the repairs and cuss out the idiot techs who never paid close enough attention to his baby.
[A short Valk ride later...]
The tech's ears reddened as he left the computer lab under the curses of [ITAN]'s Lieutenant. The error had been traced to a security flaw in some of the network code that kept Deep Blue linked to the outside universe, and only blind luck had kept out intruders to [ITAN]'s files. It was late, and the rest of the team filed out of the exit towards their own lives, grateful to have been spared the fate of the other dismissed tech. LeberMac sat, bathed in the cool glow of Deep Blue's holographic interface, and relaxed his mind enough to notice a newsfeed from Sol II:
Dr. Lecter, notorious Serco raider and mad genius, ransacked the horticultural preserve at the University of Sol today, brutally slaughtering eight guards and two botanical geneticists in an unexplained attack. One of the geneticists had just succeeded in recreating the DNA of a long extinct plant species as a research project. The mad Doctor Lecter destroyed the research, killed him and his assistant, and took off with the only DNA samples known to exist. The criminal is wanted by the Serco authorities and is to be considered armed and extremely dangerous. As far as the DNA samples, scientists are baffled, there is no known use for the Blue Agave plant known to science. More news as events warrant.
"He took the Blue Agave?" LeberMac sat, stunned, as he stared at the words floating before him in the holo-viewer. It was true, he'd been monitoring the progress of this little experiment for some months now, and had actually contemplated hitting the facility himself to obtain some of the DNA. Now Lecter had it. And there was only one reason that LeberMac could think of that Lecter would steal the only remaining Blue Agave plant's DNA and slaughter his own kind. He apparently had something to talk to Leber about, and it was pretty fracking important.
"Deep Blue, last known location of one Lecter, Doctor, H." Leber mentally asked the supercomputer.
As if on cue, a cleverly planted encrypted voicefile sprang to life upon the execution of the LOCATION command. "You bastard, Lecter... this segfault was YOUR doing..." Leber thought as the audio file played:
Greetings, LeberMeat! I wasn't sure the alcohol-riddled organ you call a brain would be able to put two and two together quickly enough, so I made this little recording for you. I do hope your precious computer wasn't too damaged by my little missive, but you see, I had to be sure that it was you who got this message, and none other... You must meet me in Bractus D-9 immediately. The fate of your precious cactus depends on how prompt you are. Ta!"
LeberMac swung into action and flew down the halls of Divinia's Coranis Watch station, leaping into his Valkyrie and mashing the turbo, making for Bractus.
Several black ships followed him.
These kinds of weekends usually are, you know, the kind of weekends when you know that you had fun, but can't quite remember exactly what went down. He recalled that he'd gone to Cantus for that celebration of celebrations, Cinco de Mayo. It's true origins were lost in the millennia, but the excuse for partying had lasted through the years, like all good holidays. Except that THIS holiday had an ancient connection to the one thing in this universe that really mattered to him. The one thing that he had some deep respect for, the one thing that made all the fighting and dying and paperwork of his day job as [ITAN]'s Lieutenant worthwhile.
Tequila.
More precisely, it was the coming home to the tequila and pouring himself a shot of it part that he liked. The third and seventh shots were particularly good as well, and at about the time that he would lose count, he would lose consciousness and wake up to a new day to trudge through. Since Smittens had been away and the paperwork had piled up, he'd been drinking a little more to help with the stress. He didn't know if it was helping, but the extra drinking had been fun, so he'd chalked it up to a positive side-effect.
Today had been a light day as these things go, he'd made it through a couple rounds of Border Patrol, wasted 75 of the idiot guise-piloted Serco fighters, and then made it back into the dock for repairs and a shower before hitting the almighty paperwork. The bright white envelope with the super-secret plans from the higher-up suits still sat on his desk unopened, waiting for Smittens. He resolved to open it up tomorrow if Smitty hadn't returned, otherwise that uppity Borano guy was gonna come back and start asking pointed questions. LeberMac hated pointed questions, especially when they were pointed at him. He finished up the last rounds of flight-patrol scheduling and was about to begin assigning long-range sector scanning duty when he got an emergency page from Deep Blue.
The most powerful supercomputer in known space, the Deep Blue Universal Automatic Computer had fallen into LeberMac's hands when he was its caretaker in the Itani Alliance. After the [IDF] merger, it had fallen into disrepair as funding dried up after the Neural Spike incident. He'd taken it upon himself to maintain and operate the machine, and it had been his baby ever since. He'd spent several fortunes on it to keep it upgraded and in top working order, and he did NOT like getting emergency alerts regarding system failures.
"Awwww. Crap. Another gor'am segfault. I swear, I'll write the damn scripts myself this time..." He could have done the reboot remotely, but he liked to be there with the computer to make sure things worked properly. It was not immediately explainable, but he felt that the computer... enjoyed his presence. Almost as if it threw the faults in order to summon him to its side. "Bah." he said out loud. That was crazy talk. Nothing for it, however, but to head to Divinia to do the repairs and cuss out the idiot techs who never paid close enough attention to his baby.
[A short Valk ride later...]
The tech's ears reddened as he left the computer lab under the curses of [ITAN]'s Lieutenant. The error had been traced to a security flaw in some of the network code that kept Deep Blue linked to the outside universe, and only blind luck had kept out intruders to [ITAN]'s files. It was late, and the rest of the team filed out of the exit towards their own lives, grateful to have been spared the fate of the other dismissed tech. LeberMac sat, bathed in the cool glow of Deep Blue's holographic interface, and relaxed his mind enough to notice a newsfeed from Sol II:
Dr. Lecter, notorious Serco raider and mad genius, ransacked the horticultural preserve at the University of Sol today, brutally slaughtering eight guards and two botanical geneticists in an unexplained attack. One of the geneticists had just succeeded in recreating the DNA of a long extinct plant species as a research project. The mad Doctor Lecter destroyed the research, killed him and his assistant, and took off with the only DNA samples known to exist. The criminal is wanted by the Serco authorities and is to be considered armed and extremely dangerous. As far as the DNA samples, scientists are baffled, there is no known use for the Blue Agave plant known to science. More news as events warrant.
"He took the Blue Agave?" LeberMac sat, stunned, as he stared at the words floating before him in the holo-viewer. It was true, he'd been monitoring the progress of this little experiment for some months now, and had actually contemplated hitting the facility himself to obtain some of the DNA. Now Lecter had it. And there was only one reason that LeberMac could think of that Lecter would steal the only remaining Blue Agave plant's DNA and slaughter his own kind. He apparently had something to talk to Leber about, and it was pretty fracking important.
"Deep Blue, last known location of one Lecter, Doctor, H." Leber mentally asked the supercomputer.
As if on cue, a cleverly planted encrypted voicefile sprang to life upon the execution of the LOCATION command. "You bastard, Lecter... this segfault was YOUR doing..." Leber thought as the audio file played:
Greetings, LeberMeat! I wasn't sure the alcohol-riddled organ you call a brain would be able to put two and two together quickly enough, so I made this little recording for you. I do hope your precious computer wasn't too damaged by my little missive, but you see, I had to be sure that it was you who got this message, and none other... You must meet me in Bractus D-9 immediately. The fate of your precious cactus depends on how prompt you are. Ta!"
LeberMac swung into action and flew down the halls of Divinia's Coranis Watch station, leaping into his Valkyrie and mashing the turbo, making for Bractus.
Several black ships followed him.
His team was ready, the payload was near to being delivered. His resolve was unquestionable, the device would be obtained and he would be redeemed in the eyes of his masters.
The thoughts streamed into Jandis Bosh like a firehose of suggestions, barraging him with concepts, strategies, foils and counter-strategies should anything go wrong. He was ready.
Tracking LeberMac to the location had been child's play. Now all that awaited Jandis Bosh was to discover the flaw in the security. ONE of those pilots had to leave the docking bay sometime, and when they did, it would be a simple matter to eliminate them and procure the device.
He would soon be a hero to the true calling of the Itani people. His name would be remembered thousands of years from now as the architect of the Itani Renaissance.
The thoughts streamed into Jandis Bosh like a firehose of suggestions, barraging him with concepts, strategies, foils and counter-strategies should anything go wrong. He was ready.
Tracking LeberMac to the location had been child's play. Now all that awaited Jandis Bosh was to discover the flaw in the security. ONE of those pilots had to leave the docking bay sometime, and when they did, it would be a simple matter to eliminate them and procure the device.
He would soon be a hero to the true calling of the Itani people. His name would be remembered thousands of years from now as the architect of the Itani Renaissance.
He walked among his followers silently. The multiple screens and vid-monitors cast a green glow over the figures psychically attached to the device. They stared blankly as their conciousness streamed across the stars into their focus, their tool.
The plan was proceeding. The all-too-willing pawn was in position with some of his best operatives. In truth, the spike they had constructed was but a shadow of the real NSI.
All that was required to do was to obtain the device. Then, plans would continue. He waited.
The plan was proceeding. The all-too-willing pawn was in position with some of his best operatives. In truth, the spike they had constructed was but a shadow of the real NSI.
All that was required to do was to obtain the device. Then, plans would continue. He waited.
I turned on the com only to be bombarded with messages from the Dominion. A call for help directed at me? Why would the Dominion trust me with anything since I left the war and sold top secret technologies to the UIT in an attempt to end the war?
"Hmm, assistance needed? Let's see here, what's the threat?.... Lecter defected to the Itani!?! He stole DNA for recreating the "blue agave" cactus? He took the NSI research?" I thought outloud as I read over the information.
My Axia EC-101 MkII roared to life and shot out of the hangar. It was a miracle no one else had discovered a long dormant gene in the "blue agave" cactus, but the possibillity remained that Lecter had. If accessed, the plant could easily become the most dangerous nueral agent in human history, and possibly accelerate the NSI project to mass production levels. This time it wasn't just my friends at risk... I would need a better ship, and possibly some help.
"Hey, Erik, have you heard what's going on?" I asked over a private channel.
"What do you think!?! It's all over the news! Where have you been?!?" was my not so humble reply.
"Sorry, I just got back from my weekend vacation to the planet Itan, guess word hadn't gotten here yet," I said as I hit the big, shiny, yellow "jump" button.
"Oh, well in that case, welcome to the new universe that came about two days ago," Erik said when I came back out of radio silence from the jump.
"Remember how I told you I used to be a genetics engineer?" I inquired.
"Yeah, aren't you supposed to be going to visit your family from the farm soon?" Erik replied.
"I was supposed to, but this is going to interfer... Well, you see, the "blue agave" that Lecter stole has in it a dormant gene that the researchers had to have overlooked. I should know because I helped with the project for a while as an exchange student. I never told my superiors what I found because I didn't want them to use it in war," I explained.
"What did you see?" Erik asked.
"It contains a powerful neural agent that could send the NSI project through the roof. The DNA that Lecter stole needs to be destroyed. Though I highly doubt Lecter would have found this gene, there is a good chance that he will in the future, whether it is tomorrow or in thirty years. It's not a matter of if, but instead when." I answered, "I'll be back in an hour or two, I was asked by the triumvirate to show up for a briefing on the situation."
SkyCommand looked as good as it always had. The Serco certainly prized this station far greater than any of the others. I hadn't set foot in here ever since advanced flight training, so it was good to be back.
"Sir, follow me," a station guard said without any greeting of any sort.
"Understood, wait, have I seen you before?" I asked.
"Not unless you were in the '33 advanced flight class- wait, so it is you! Mind telling some stories when this is all said and done?" the guard exclaimed coming to life.
"Heh, if this ever ends I will, but right now the known galaxy is in danger," I answered sternly.
"Yessir, right through this door," the guard replied, almost dissapointed.
----------------------------------------------------------------
"Hmm, I see you legally removed your name, what should we call you then?" The first man asked.
"Everyone calls me FB, if you can think of something better, go ahead and tell me," I replied.
"Hmm, well as you know Lecter has defected, he took all the NSI project research, and he took an item, the DNA of the "blue agave" cactus, for no apparent reason. We understand you're a well accomplished combat pilot, a past bioengineer, and have dealt with Lecter in the past. Your resume says you're perfect for this job," The third man explained.
"What is the task?" I asked, hooked by the plan.
"We need you to fight your way past Lecter's defense, find out what he wants with the "blue agave", and effectively "cancel" the NSI project. You start tomorrow, but for now get some rest, if this is as serious as we assume, you'll need it," the second man answered.
"Understood," I said as I snapped to attention, saluted, and left the room.
"Hmm, assistance needed? Let's see here, what's the threat?.... Lecter defected to the Itani!?! He stole DNA for recreating the "blue agave" cactus? He took the NSI research?" I thought outloud as I read over the information.
My Axia EC-101 MkII roared to life and shot out of the hangar. It was a miracle no one else had discovered a long dormant gene in the "blue agave" cactus, but the possibillity remained that Lecter had. If accessed, the plant could easily become the most dangerous nueral agent in human history, and possibly accelerate the NSI project to mass production levels. This time it wasn't just my friends at risk... I would need a better ship, and possibly some help.
"Hey, Erik, have you heard what's going on?" I asked over a private channel.
"What do you think!?! It's all over the news! Where have you been?!?" was my not so humble reply.
"Sorry, I just got back from my weekend vacation to the planet Itan, guess word hadn't gotten here yet," I said as I hit the big, shiny, yellow "jump" button.
"Oh, well in that case, welcome to the new universe that came about two days ago," Erik said when I came back out of radio silence from the jump.
"Remember how I told you I used to be a genetics engineer?" I inquired.
"Yeah, aren't you supposed to be going to visit your family from the farm soon?" Erik replied.
"I was supposed to, but this is going to interfer... Well, you see, the "blue agave" that Lecter stole has in it a dormant gene that the researchers had to have overlooked. I should know because I helped with the project for a while as an exchange student. I never told my superiors what I found because I didn't want them to use it in war," I explained.
"What did you see?" Erik asked.
"It contains a powerful neural agent that could send the NSI project through the roof. The DNA that Lecter stole needs to be destroyed. Though I highly doubt Lecter would have found this gene, there is a good chance that he will in the future, whether it is tomorrow or in thirty years. It's not a matter of if, but instead when." I answered, "I'll be back in an hour or two, I was asked by the triumvirate to show up for a briefing on the situation."
SkyCommand looked as good as it always had. The Serco certainly prized this station far greater than any of the others. I hadn't set foot in here ever since advanced flight training, so it was good to be back.
"Sir, follow me," a station guard said without any greeting of any sort.
"Understood, wait, have I seen you before?" I asked.
"Not unless you were in the '33 advanced flight class- wait, so it is you! Mind telling some stories when this is all said and done?" the guard exclaimed coming to life.
"Heh, if this ever ends I will, but right now the known galaxy is in danger," I answered sternly.
"Yessir, right through this door," the guard replied, almost dissapointed.
----------------------------------------------------------------
"Hmm, I see you legally removed your name, what should we call you then?" The first man asked.
"Everyone calls me FB, if you can think of something better, go ahead and tell me," I replied.
"Hmm, well as you know Lecter has defected, he took all the NSI project research, and he took an item, the DNA of the "blue agave" cactus, for no apparent reason. We understand you're a well accomplished combat pilot, a past bioengineer, and have dealt with Lecter in the past. Your resume says you're perfect for this job," The third man explained.
"What is the task?" I asked, hooked by the plan.
"We need you to fight your way past Lecter's defense, find out what he wants with the "blue agave", and effectively "cancel" the NSI project. You start tomorrow, but for now get some rest, if this is as serious as we assume, you'll need it," the second man answered.
"Understood," I said as I snapped to attention, saluted, and left the room.
Jesus... someone flunked genetics. FB, I'm not going to suggest you move your post out, since the Serco are all about employing flunkies. But scrap the gene thing; the agave's sole purpose was to draw Leber.
This [OOC] post will selfdestruct once its mission has been accomplished...
This [OOC] post will selfdestruct once its mission has been accomplished...
Bractus system, Corvus luxury suite #2839.
Day 2, 0031 hours.
*Knock-Knock*
They’d been sitting, watching the door in silence, for a good ten minutes. Smittens had progressed to fidgeting with some not-quite-in-place part of his uniform under the coveralls; Dr. Lecter appeared to be staring at the wall, as he accessed information streamed to his implants from the warthog’s comm package. They both focused on the door when they heard the muffled whump of flesh on bulkhead material outside.
Checking his watch, Lecter stood. “That’ll be Mogul… I’m hoping the sight of his son’s casket was sufficient to jolt him back to reality for a bit, but be ready for anything.” Smittens nodded warily; he’d already heard just how loony Mogul Velaio was these days.
With a loud “Entrez!”, Lecter thumbed the remote and the door whooshed open. A somewhat unkempt looking Itani half-fell into the room, looking about in the gloom with wild eyes and an unpleasant looking grin on his face. Smittens attention was drawn to the device in his hand. “Lecter…!”
“Mogul.” The Itani looked around rapidly, as if unsure whether Lecter or someone else entirely was addressing him. “Mogul!” Veliao’s head snapped towards the Doctor, and his eyes narrowed at the Serco who stood leaning against the nose of a Warthog. A crazy man was suddenly sure that he was hallucinating. Mogul stopped staring Lecter down long enough to do a double-take at the ship; maybe if he blinked a few times, it would go away. Lecter snapped his fingers in the air to regain Mogul’s attention, and began speaking in a calm voice.
“Now Mogul, surely you’re aware that if you detonate that warhead in here, you’ll blow poor Smittens to bits as well. Not to mention the high probability of scoring an ‘own goal’, as it were. I’m not sure you could outrun the blast range, and I’ve very sure your retreating form would leave my doorway sporting a large mega-positron shaped hole.”
“A small price to pay, you bastard! I outta blow you to Hell and Smittens along with you for all you’ve done to me!!” He raised the warhead threateningly, as if to lob it towards Dr. Lecter. Smittens was eyeing the door to the opposite room on his right, wondering just how thick Corvus made the interior walls.
Lecter extended an arm, pointing at the casket on the table. “You really want to blow what’s left of your son to Hell along with me, Mogul?” The warhead faltered, then hung at Velaio’s side; he turned towards the table, face trembling. Lecter walked over and gently removed the detonator from his wrist.
“You can go stand over by the table until LeberMac arrives, Mogul. Have some juice, it’s in the minibar fridge. And take a Placebo Xin while you’re at it. You look worse than I’d anticipated. Once he’s here, we can get this thing moving."
The former commander of [Itan] wandered over towards the low table, eyes fixed on the black oblong box. He just stood there, staring at it, while Smittens watched him awkwardly for a moment before repositioning himself on the sofa.
Lecter looked over his shoulder, out the large vismetal main window. “Based on the intel reports I reviewed while we were waiting for you, we don’t have much time.”
Day 2, 0031 hours.
*Knock-Knock*
They’d been sitting, watching the door in silence, for a good ten minutes. Smittens had progressed to fidgeting with some not-quite-in-place part of his uniform under the coveralls; Dr. Lecter appeared to be staring at the wall, as he accessed information streamed to his implants from the warthog’s comm package. They both focused on the door when they heard the muffled whump of flesh on bulkhead material outside.
Checking his watch, Lecter stood. “That’ll be Mogul… I’m hoping the sight of his son’s casket was sufficient to jolt him back to reality for a bit, but be ready for anything.” Smittens nodded warily; he’d already heard just how loony Mogul Velaio was these days.
With a loud “Entrez!”, Lecter thumbed the remote and the door whooshed open. A somewhat unkempt looking Itani half-fell into the room, looking about in the gloom with wild eyes and an unpleasant looking grin on his face. Smittens attention was drawn to the device in his hand. “Lecter…!”
“Mogul.” The Itani looked around rapidly, as if unsure whether Lecter or someone else entirely was addressing him. “Mogul!” Veliao’s head snapped towards the Doctor, and his eyes narrowed at the Serco who stood leaning against the nose of a Warthog. A crazy man was suddenly sure that he was hallucinating. Mogul stopped staring Lecter down long enough to do a double-take at the ship; maybe if he blinked a few times, it would go away. Lecter snapped his fingers in the air to regain Mogul’s attention, and began speaking in a calm voice.
“Now Mogul, surely you’re aware that if you detonate that warhead in here, you’ll blow poor Smittens to bits as well. Not to mention the high probability of scoring an ‘own goal’, as it were. I’m not sure you could outrun the blast range, and I’ve very sure your retreating form would leave my doorway sporting a large mega-positron shaped hole.”
“A small price to pay, you bastard! I outta blow you to Hell and Smittens along with you for all you’ve done to me!!” He raised the warhead threateningly, as if to lob it towards Dr. Lecter. Smittens was eyeing the door to the opposite room on his right, wondering just how thick Corvus made the interior walls.
Lecter extended an arm, pointing at the casket on the table. “You really want to blow what’s left of your son to Hell along with me, Mogul?” The warhead faltered, then hung at Velaio’s side; he turned towards the table, face trembling. Lecter walked over and gently removed the detonator from his wrist.
“You can go stand over by the table until LeberMac arrives, Mogul. Have some juice, it’s in the minibar fridge. And take a Placebo Xin while you’re at it. You look worse than I’d anticipated. Once he’s here, we can get this thing moving."
The former commander of [Itan] wandered over towards the low table, eyes fixed on the black oblong box. He just stood there, staring at it, while Smittens watched him awkwardly for a moment before repositioning himself on the sofa.
Lecter looked over his shoulder, out the large vismetal main window. “Based on the intel reports I reviewed while we were waiting for you, we don’t have much time.”
LeberMac charged through Edras at full speed and reached down to take a draw from his emergency bottle of tequila that he kept in every ship. He closed his eyes and savored the alcohol as it slid down his throat. Then he ran into an asteroid.
Respawning in Divinia, he swore the entire way from the docking bay to his ship, grabbing a spare bottle of tequila for the trip, and rocketed out of the bay for the second time in 3 minutes. Being more careful this time, he avoided the ion storms and bots and asteroids and docked clumsily in the docking bay of the Corvus station in Bractus, after finishing the last drops of tequila out of the travel bottle.
The Corvus dock attendants objected strenuously to LeberMac's entrance but stopped complaining immediately as he shot one of them dead on his way through the entrance to the station's lobby. The small crowd dispersed as he blew the head clean off a big Serco-enhanced guard and somersaulted across the lobby to the checkin desk. He pinned the head of the attendant to the ground and simultaneously hit the lockdown button, sealing the rooms and lifts of the station in place.
"LECTER!" He screamed in the attendant's ear. "WHERE IS HE?"
The attendant screamed out "2839!" if only to relieve the pressure of the dual blaster pistols from his temple.
LeberMac double-backflipped into the nearest Jefferies tube and began the long climb up to the 28th floor. With the fury of a mother bear robbed of her cubs, he vaulted onto the 28th floor, barely winded. The floor was deserted, but he stealthily made his way to room 2839, flipping from potted plant to decorative table to wall pillar. Upon reaching the door, he screamed out, "LECTER!!! GIVE UP THAT AGAVE!!!!!", and kicked in the door, revealing nothing but darkness.
He charged into the inky blackness of the room's interior, ready for anything. Except a Warthog Mk. II.
He ran smack into the L-port and knocked himself out cold, hitting the floor awkwardly, blood spurting from his shattered nose.
Respawning in Divinia, he swore the entire way from the docking bay to his ship, grabbing a spare bottle of tequila for the trip, and rocketed out of the bay for the second time in 3 minutes. Being more careful this time, he avoided the ion storms and bots and asteroids and docked clumsily in the docking bay of the Corvus station in Bractus, after finishing the last drops of tequila out of the travel bottle.
The Corvus dock attendants objected strenuously to LeberMac's entrance but stopped complaining immediately as he shot one of them dead on his way through the entrance to the station's lobby. The small crowd dispersed as he blew the head clean off a big Serco-enhanced guard and somersaulted across the lobby to the checkin desk. He pinned the head of the attendant to the ground and simultaneously hit the lockdown button, sealing the rooms and lifts of the station in place.
"LECTER!" He screamed in the attendant's ear. "WHERE IS HE?"
The attendant screamed out "2839!" if only to relieve the pressure of the dual blaster pistols from his temple.
LeberMac double-backflipped into the nearest Jefferies tube and began the long climb up to the 28th floor. With the fury of a mother bear robbed of her cubs, he vaulted onto the 28th floor, barely winded. The floor was deserted, but he stealthily made his way to room 2839, flipping from potted plant to decorative table to wall pillar. Upon reaching the door, he screamed out, "LECTER!!! GIVE UP THAT AGAVE!!!!!", and kicked in the door, revealing nothing but darkness.
He charged into the inky blackness of the room's interior, ready for anything. Except a Warthog Mk. II.
He ran smack into the L-port and knocked himself out cold, hitting the floor awkwardly, blood spurting from his shattered nose.
*CRASH* ”LECTER!! WHERE’S MY AGA…” *WHUNK…thud* “HAHAHAHA” *ZzzzZzpt…* *CRASH* ”LECTER!! WHERE’S MY AGA…” *WHUNK…thud* “HAHAHAHA” *ZzzzZzpt…* *CRASH* ”LECTER!! WHERE’S MY AGA…” *WHUNK…thud* “HAHAHAHA” *ZzzzZzpt…*
LeberMac awoke to the sound of screaming, unsure where he was and with a terrible pain in his head. All in all, he though, an unremarkable morning. Then he realized the voice he could hear shouting was his own, and he started to wonder just what he’d had to drink the night before. Which brought where he was and why he was there back to him with a jolt: Lecter. The blue agave. His dream of authentic tequila, made fresh. He leapt to his feet, blasters in hand. And immediatedly collided with the underside of the warthog’s nose.
Leber sat back onto the deck with a heavy THUD, propped up against the now-repaired door, in approximately the position Dr. Lecter had left him to recover from his head-butting of the Warthog’s Mega-Posi blaster.
He could see Smittens on the sofa, facing the main viewscreen in the living room, totally engrossed in a video segment that kept rewinding. On the screen, he saw himself perpetually crash through the suite’s door, bellowing at the top of his lungs, only to be cut short when he ran face-first into the ship. Just watching it happen was painful. [ITAN]’s commander looked like he’d been laughing, non-stop, for the past ten minutes.
Glancing at the ‘Hog, Leber saw the S-port contained a camera. “Ha. I wonder how much Lecter sold the video to Smittens for,” thought Leber. He noticed thinking hurt his head even more, and resolved to severely limit how much more thinking he did today. “Lecter, where is that blasted cactus, and why is Smittens here? And while you’re at it, tell me where the bar is… I need some tequila for this mashed nose.”
Lecter poked his head out of the Warthog’s open cockpit. “Ah, good, you’re finally awake; I thought that thud just a moment ago sounded like your head on my hull plates. Tequila’s in the bar off the starboard side; like you, Smittens is here because I have something he wants rather badly; and the cactus is over on the table. Say ‘Hi’ to Mogul while you’re communing with your plant.” The Serco adjusted the frequency reception harmonics; “I’ll be down in just a second, and then I’ll explain what's going on.”
“Say what to who?” Turning to the table he saw Lecter mention, Leber was a little shocked to see a sorta-familiar face.
Smittens turned off the video long enough to break through Leber’s growing thoughts of vengeance for the betrayal of [ITAN]; “Leber, I’m supposed to make sure you behave yourself with Mogul. He’s just here at Lecter’s request, like you. Besides, that’s his son on the table there. Leave him alone already, huh?”
“Smittens, how much did Lecter charge you for that, anyway?” Leber heard a heavy mass land on the floor behind him as the Doctor dropped out of the cockpit. Lecter chuckled; “He immediately forked over 3 million credits; I was too shocked to think of asking for more. Everyone take a seat, I’m going to explain why I asked you all here.”
All four of them took a side of the low, rectangular table, Dr. Lecter facing the NSI mk II prototype, his back to the fire in the next room. Leber and Smittens settled in on opposite sides of the table, with Smittens choosing the one that let him keep an eye on the video loop. Finally Mogul took a long look at the polished black material of the casket in front of him, and took a seat opposite the Doctor with the black hulk of the Warthog behind him.
Mogul looked around the table at this odd assembly, and then spoke for the first time since he’d entered the room. “What are we all doing here, Lecter?”
LeberMac awoke to the sound of screaming, unsure where he was and with a terrible pain in his head. All in all, he though, an unremarkable morning. Then he realized the voice he could hear shouting was his own, and he started to wonder just what he’d had to drink the night before. Which brought where he was and why he was there back to him with a jolt: Lecter. The blue agave. His dream of authentic tequila, made fresh. He leapt to his feet, blasters in hand. And immediatedly collided with the underside of the warthog’s nose.
Leber sat back onto the deck with a heavy THUD, propped up against the now-repaired door, in approximately the position Dr. Lecter had left him to recover from his head-butting of the Warthog’s Mega-Posi blaster.
He could see Smittens on the sofa, facing the main viewscreen in the living room, totally engrossed in a video segment that kept rewinding. On the screen, he saw himself perpetually crash through the suite’s door, bellowing at the top of his lungs, only to be cut short when he ran face-first into the ship. Just watching it happen was painful. [ITAN]’s commander looked like he’d been laughing, non-stop, for the past ten minutes.
Glancing at the ‘Hog, Leber saw the S-port contained a camera. “Ha. I wonder how much Lecter sold the video to Smittens for,” thought Leber. He noticed thinking hurt his head even more, and resolved to severely limit how much more thinking he did today. “Lecter, where is that blasted cactus, and why is Smittens here? And while you’re at it, tell me where the bar is… I need some tequila for this mashed nose.”
Lecter poked his head out of the Warthog’s open cockpit. “Ah, good, you’re finally awake; I thought that thud just a moment ago sounded like your head on my hull plates. Tequila’s in the bar off the starboard side; like you, Smittens is here because I have something he wants rather badly; and the cactus is over on the table. Say ‘Hi’ to Mogul while you’re communing with your plant.” The Serco adjusted the frequency reception harmonics; “I’ll be down in just a second, and then I’ll explain what's going on.”
“Say what to who?” Turning to the table he saw Lecter mention, Leber was a little shocked to see a sorta-familiar face.
Smittens turned off the video long enough to break through Leber’s growing thoughts of vengeance for the betrayal of [ITAN]; “Leber, I’m supposed to make sure you behave yourself with Mogul. He’s just here at Lecter’s request, like you. Besides, that’s his son on the table there. Leave him alone already, huh?”
“Smittens, how much did Lecter charge you for that, anyway?” Leber heard a heavy mass land on the floor behind him as the Doctor dropped out of the cockpit. Lecter chuckled; “He immediately forked over 3 million credits; I was too shocked to think of asking for more. Everyone take a seat, I’m going to explain why I asked you all here.”
All four of them took a side of the low, rectangular table, Dr. Lecter facing the NSI mk II prototype, his back to the fire in the next room. Leber and Smittens settled in on opposite sides of the table, with Smittens choosing the one that let him keep an eye on the video loop. Finally Mogul took a long look at the polished black material of the casket in front of him, and took a seat opposite the Doctor with the black hulk of the Warthog behind him.
Mogul looked around the table at this odd assembly, and then spoke for the first time since he’d entered the room. “What are we all doing here, Lecter?”
"Yeah!" said Mogul, "What are we all doing... er... here... er... Lecter?"
Mogul had just experienced an audible Déjà-Vu when he realized the little kid running around the table. He tried ignoring him but it was too hard not to look at the rosy laughing figure, wich was supposed to be laid in the casket behind him.
The sight of the war ship, slightly pressed against the sofa and every other thing in the room, promptly brought him back to reality.
Mogul got up and ignored everyone in the room. All thirteen other ones besides him. Twisting his shoulder to make way in-between his Council while avoiding to step on the kid's toes, Mogul approached the table and started to yank a leg off of it.
Lecter snapped his finger again but to no avail. That leg WAS going to give in.
When it did, Mogul approached the camera and started smashing it, totally oblivious to the harsh reality that is the weapon alignment on Warthogs.
"Are there any more of these in this room?" Mogul asked, in a louder voice than his headache really wanted him to use.
The hallucinatory Council applauded their Commander's move and Mogul had to quiet them down with a discrete sign of the hand.
Still wielding the table leg, Mogul approached the mini bar, grabbed a couple of bottles and went back to his seat. Juice bottles in one hand, table leg in the other.
Mogul gave a fine impression of a classic post-modern caveman.
"Make it worthwhile, my bus is parked in a toll zone." he said, while opening a bottle of juice.
Mogul had just experienced an audible Déjà-Vu when he realized the little kid running around the table. He tried ignoring him but it was too hard not to look at the rosy laughing figure, wich was supposed to be laid in the casket behind him.
The sight of the war ship, slightly pressed against the sofa and every other thing in the room, promptly brought him back to reality.
Mogul got up and ignored everyone in the room. All thirteen other ones besides him. Twisting his shoulder to make way in-between his Council while avoiding to step on the kid's toes, Mogul approached the table and started to yank a leg off of it.
Lecter snapped his finger again but to no avail. That leg WAS going to give in.
When it did, Mogul approached the camera and started smashing it, totally oblivious to the harsh reality that is the weapon alignment on Warthogs.
"Are there any more of these in this room?" Mogul asked, in a louder voice than his headache really wanted him to use.
The hallucinatory Council applauded their Commander's move and Mogul had to quiet them down with a discrete sign of the hand.
Still wielding the table leg, Mogul approached the mini bar, grabbed a couple of bottles and went back to his seat. Juice bottles in one hand, table leg in the other.
Mogul gave a fine impression of a classic post-modern caveman.
"Make it worthwhile, my bus is parked in a toll zone." he said, while opening a bottle of juice.
Dr. Lecter had been forced to exercise an abnormal amount of self-control in the past few moments. Lecter had initially considered vaporizing the obviously deranged Velaio when he stood right in front of the L-port blaster, hammering away on the Doctor's ship. Now Mogul was presenting something of an impediment to serious discussion, and Lecter was running short on time. However, simply killing Mogul would almost certainly upset the other two Itani; "Besides," Lecter thought, trying to restrain himself, "he may still prove useful. That's why you brought him here."
Glancing at the obviously disconcerted [ITAN] members and then back at Mogul, Lecter began. "I've set this in motion because I have a proposition for you, and I needed to ensure your presence in a timely fashion. Leber, regardless of the outcome of our little chat today, you've earned yourself a blue agave cactus."
LeberMac's perpetually flushed face lit up even further; the Serco continued. "Although, I was considering blowing it to irradiated bits when the agent I had shadowing you reported that you'd acquired a tail on the way here." Before Leber could protest that no such thing could have occurred, Lecter cut him off: "Four black ships are currently formed up outside the station's sole undocking bay. They trailed you here; they'll wait there for awhile, but we can't take too long here."
"Now, Mogul, obviously I intend to return your son's remains and casket to you. Given the state you're in, however, I'm unsure if that's a wise idea. I'll leave it up to the others to decide if you leave here with it or receive it later. Either way, you need a serious check-up." The table-leg wielding mad-man merely grunted and threw an empty juice bottle at the Arrogant Eo apparition that was mocking him from above the Warthog.
Smittens spoke up. "And you're going to give me the NSI; we get it. Now explain why you're acting all nice and playing Santa Claus here. What do you want from us?"
"Well, Smitty, you're only half right. I knew you'd come here once word got out that I was on the run with my research data on the NSI and the prototype... but it's not specifically for you. That is, I'll be happy to give it to you, but not just to you.
"Since my unfortunate capture during the last Serco operation involving the NSI, I have found the Dominion less than grateful for all I have done for it. While I am uninterested in being touted as a war hero, and am willing to accept the moral condemnation of those whose security my ruthless acts have helped to assure, the Dominion has gone too far. I was left to rot in jail, and would have not escaped if not for a rogue Serco choosing to effect a rescue.
"My own guild saw fit to expel me for being a symbol of the Old Guard, incompatible with the new and more gentle image [SCAR] hopes to convey. Most insultingly, Mecha Touriaus was dispatched by my own government to kill me--I'm not sure which is worse, that they decided they had a right to have me killed, or that they thought Mecha could actually carry out the assignment. Either way, the Serco will regret their decision."
Leber took a long pull from his bottle of tequila and leaned back in his chair, careful not to upset the now-precarious three legged table. "So, what you're saying is... you'll betray the Dominion and give us the NSI, out of nothing more than spite? All you want from all this is to piss off the Serco? Sheesh, you could have just emailed me the schematics and saved us all the melodrama."
Dr. Lecter smiled; "It's not just spite, Leber. As all three of you are well aware, I'm sure, I don't take well to personal slights. The Dominion, in believing I was expendable and by placing its interests above my own, decided to provoke me: So be it. Think about it carefully. With the NSI, especially with the improvements I've made, your nation will be able to do the one thing that will hurt the Dominion: render it unimportant to a bunch of miserable smurfs.
"Moreover, as you will note from the presence of those black ships outside, the NSI is not a matter I could simply dispatch to you by email. If the Serco think it unpleasant for it to fall into Itani hands, the entire universe would be imperiled were it to be captured by the wrong interests. My methods have been, as always, necessary."
Lecter paused and then continued in a bored voice: "The potential of the NSI to do good is, regrettably, massive. I'm sure the unity it will provide to the Itani race will make you all prance merrily around the stars in odious collective love, peace, and happiness. As nauseating as I find that idea, however, it will also render the Itani powerful beyond belief: even if you ultimately choose not to harm the Serco, that is irrelevant. They will know they exist at the pleasure of a stronger being, one for which they have no respect. I can think of no fate more befitting the Dominion in return for what they have done to me."
"I will provide you all with the necessary schematics to produce your own prototypes and conduct research as you see fit. If necessary, I will disclose the NSI information to the more.. .shall we say, radical... outgrowths of the Itani nation. However, I came to you three first because, while I intend to humiliate those who have offended me, I have no real desire to see my own people wiped off the map. I have, in addition to your developing the potential of the NSI, only one condition."
"I knew this had to be too good to be true; what do you want?" Smittens warily inquired. "Only this: I will not be able to live in Serco space after this is done, and the UIT will be unable to offer me shelter. However, at present, I am less than welcome in Itani space... I can take care of the local faction issues myself, but the outstanding criminal charges are simply unacceptable. I require a full and unconditional pardon for all transgressions I have committed, to present date."
The Doctor rose from the table, taking the NSI prototype and schematics with him, and disabling the explosives attached to the other two items on the table. He climbed into the Warthog, and began prepping for launch operations while monitoring the status of the blockade outside the station. "Take as much time as you need to decide, but remember that we have uninvited guests outside. At some point, they'll come looking for us, and when they do, I'll be blasting off through the window." He grinned; "It would be healthier for you all if you'd exited the room before that happens."
Glancing at the obviously disconcerted [ITAN] members and then back at Mogul, Lecter began. "I've set this in motion because I have a proposition for you, and I needed to ensure your presence in a timely fashion. Leber, regardless of the outcome of our little chat today, you've earned yourself a blue agave cactus."
LeberMac's perpetually flushed face lit up even further; the Serco continued. "Although, I was considering blowing it to irradiated bits when the agent I had shadowing you reported that you'd acquired a tail on the way here." Before Leber could protest that no such thing could have occurred, Lecter cut him off: "Four black ships are currently formed up outside the station's sole undocking bay. They trailed you here; they'll wait there for awhile, but we can't take too long here."
"Now, Mogul, obviously I intend to return your son's remains and casket to you. Given the state you're in, however, I'm unsure if that's a wise idea. I'll leave it up to the others to decide if you leave here with it or receive it later. Either way, you need a serious check-up." The table-leg wielding mad-man merely grunted and threw an empty juice bottle at the Arrogant Eo apparition that was mocking him from above the Warthog.
Smittens spoke up. "And you're going to give me the NSI; we get it. Now explain why you're acting all nice and playing Santa Claus here. What do you want from us?"
"Well, Smitty, you're only half right. I knew you'd come here once word got out that I was on the run with my research data on the NSI and the prototype... but it's not specifically for you. That is, I'll be happy to give it to you, but not just to you.
"Since my unfortunate capture during the last Serco operation involving the NSI, I have found the Dominion less than grateful for all I have done for it. While I am uninterested in being touted as a war hero, and am willing to accept the moral condemnation of those whose security my ruthless acts have helped to assure, the Dominion has gone too far. I was left to rot in jail, and would have not escaped if not for a rogue Serco choosing to effect a rescue.
"My own guild saw fit to expel me for being a symbol of the Old Guard, incompatible with the new and more gentle image [SCAR] hopes to convey. Most insultingly, Mecha Touriaus was dispatched by my own government to kill me--I'm not sure which is worse, that they decided they had a right to have me killed, or that they thought Mecha could actually carry out the assignment. Either way, the Serco will regret their decision."
Leber took a long pull from his bottle of tequila and leaned back in his chair, careful not to upset the now-precarious three legged table. "So, what you're saying is... you'll betray the Dominion and give us the NSI, out of nothing more than spite? All you want from all this is to piss off the Serco? Sheesh, you could have just emailed me the schematics and saved us all the melodrama."
Dr. Lecter smiled; "It's not just spite, Leber. As all three of you are well aware, I'm sure, I don't take well to personal slights. The Dominion, in believing I was expendable and by placing its interests above my own, decided to provoke me: So be it. Think about it carefully. With the NSI, especially with the improvements I've made, your nation will be able to do the one thing that will hurt the Dominion: render it unimportant to a bunch of miserable smurfs.
"Moreover, as you will note from the presence of those black ships outside, the NSI is not a matter I could simply dispatch to you by email. If the Serco think it unpleasant for it to fall into Itani hands, the entire universe would be imperiled were it to be captured by the wrong interests. My methods have been, as always, necessary."
Lecter paused and then continued in a bored voice: "The potential of the NSI to do good is, regrettably, massive. I'm sure the unity it will provide to the Itani race will make you all prance merrily around the stars in odious collective love, peace, and happiness. As nauseating as I find that idea, however, it will also render the Itani powerful beyond belief: even if you ultimately choose not to harm the Serco, that is irrelevant. They will know they exist at the pleasure of a stronger being, one for which they have no respect. I can think of no fate more befitting the Dominion in return for what they have done to me."
"I will provide you all with the necessary schematics to produce your own prototypes and conduct research as you see fit. If necessary, I will disclose the NSI information to the more.. .shall we say, radical... outgrowths of the Itani nation. However, I came to you three first because, while I intend to humiliate those who have offended me, I have no real desire to see my own people wiped off the map. I have, in addition to your developing the potential of the NSI, only one condition."
"I knew this had to be too good to be true; what do you want?" Smittens warily inquired. "Only this: I will not be able to live in Serco space after this is done, and the UIT will be unable to offer me shelter. However, at present, I am less than welcome in Itani space... I can take care of the local faction issues myself, but the outstanding criminal charges are simply unacceptable. I require a full and unconditional pardon for all transgressions I have committed, to present date."
The Doctor rose from the table, taking the NSI prototype and schematics with him, and disabling the explosives attached to the other two items on the table. He climbed into the Warthog, and began prepping for launch operations while monitoring the status of the blockade outside the station. "Take as much time as you need to decide, but remember that we have uninvited guests outside. At some point, they'll come looking for us, and when they do, I'll be blasting off through the window." He grinned; "It would be healthier for you all if you'd exited the room before that happens."
[OOC Note, this all is happening after the Oernon Karun and NTK-11 story]
Mogul, inoculated by one of the first coherent speach he had heard in a long while, got up throwing his chair back in the process and keeping both Smittens and LeberMac at bay by menacing them with the table leg. A bolt that had barely survived it's yanking off of it's usual socket provided extra protection to the wielder.
"Everybody stays put and no one gets hurt!" he shouted, walking towards the casket. Grabbing it by one of it's handles, pulled it out of the room and into the hallway. Back into the room with his bag, Mogul walked toward the minibar fridge. "Oh! Strawberry!" he mumbled and began filling his bag with every bottle of fresh juice he could.
"Shoo!" he said glancing at his invisible friends. The entire hallucinatory Council got out the room, though not so quite by the door.
"I'm off! I'll go put that thing in safe-keeping" he said pointing his head to the casket in the exit, "and then I'll deal with the governing bodies. I understand my Itani space ban ends today so keep off my tail!" Mogul said.
A quick glance over his shoulder made eye contact with Lecter."We're not over yet you criminal. I can't give you what you want from me. I'm civilian now. You might as well forget I ever existed!".
Knowing full well he had a Mega Positron aim point between himself and the doorway, Mogul pulled the bolt "pin" out of his table leg "grenade" and lobed it in the direction of the crowd. Maniacally laughing as the table leg was unthreateningly falling down, Mogul made a quick turnabout and dashed for the exit. Straight onto the casket on the hallway. His hands, all tangled-up in his bag harness, ensured a nice elongated flip over the casket wich projected him head-on into the opposing wall.
His knees hunched up on the casket, above his head, feet dangling in the air, pretty much concluded Mogul had hit the bottom of the respectable barrel.
The crowd, unimpressed, just starred at Mogul' soles.
The door tried to woosh itself close but would cancel out and try again every time it hit Mogul's dangling feet. Like a crime scene slide show, a red stain by Mogul's head was bigger in size every time the door opened.
Mogul was out and the strawberry juice wasted.
"Everybody stays put and no one gets hurt!" he shouted, walking towards the casket. Grabbing it by one of it's handles, pulled it out of the room and into the hallway. Back into the room with his bag, Mogul walked toward the minibar fridge. "Oh! Strawberry!" he mumbled and began filling his bag with every bottle of fresh juice he could.
"Shoo!" he said glancing at his invisible friends. The entire hallucinatory Council got out the room, though not so quite by the door.
"I'm off! I'll go put that thing in safe-keeping" he said pointing his head to the casket in the exit, "and then I'll deal with the governing bodies. I understand my Itani space ban ends today so keep off my tail!" Mogul said.
A quick glance over his shoulder made eye contact with Lecter."We're not over yet you criminal. I can't give you what you want from me. I'm civilian now. You might as well forget I ever existed!".
Knowing full well he had a Mega Positron aim point between himself and the doorway, Mogul pulled the bolt "pin" out of his table leg "grenade" and lobed it in the direction of the crowd. Maniacally laughing as the table leg was unthreateningly falling down, Mogul made a quick turnabout and dashed for the exit. Straight onto the casket on the hallway. His hands, all tangled-up in his bag harness, ensured a nice elongated flip over the casket wich projected him head-on into the opposing wall.
His knees hunched up on the casket, above his head, feet dangling in the air, pretty much concluded Mogul had hit the bottom of the respectable barrel.
The crowd, unimpressed, just starred at Mogul' soles.
The door tried to woosh itself close but would cancel out and try again every time it hit Mogul's dangling feet. Like a crime scene slide show, a red stain by Mogul's head was bigger in size every time the door opened.
Mogul was out and the strawberry juice wasted.
OOC
Holy shite, nice thread folks. Have I read it? No... a tad bit daunting at this moment. But I skimmed it and it looks like its gonna make a good read once I manage to forget the millions of pages of art psycho-babble I've just put myself through for the last four years.
Inspiring though, maybe even enough to convince me to get back to my own barely begun RP.
Holy shite, nice thread folks. Have I read it? No... a tad bit daunting at this moment. But I skimmed it and it looks like its gonna make a good read once I manage to forget the millions of pages of art psycho-babble I've just put myself through for the last four years.
Inspiring though, maybe even enough to convince me to get back to my own barely begun RP.
Lecter got out of the Hog long enough to grab the juice spattered Itani laying in the doorway by the collar and drag him back inside. Checking the hallway, he found it clear; he ducked back inside.
"Leber, you're in charge of Mogul. Make sure someone fixes him up." The Doctor paused, eyeing the small casket, now covered with juice. He seemed to make up his mind about something. "Also, my terms just altered a bit. I'll require that Mogul Velaio be granted immunity for the actions that led to his being expelled."
LeberMac wasn't looking terribly happy with the idea; steam might have been emanating from his ears. Lecter growled at him, and tossed the whacko's unconscious form at Leber: "I'm not expecting you to reinstate him, just get his ass back to smurf space and into a hospital rather than a cell. You can handle that; and I'm sure as Hell not taking him with me."
Lecter quickly dismounted the shattered camera from the S-port and tossed it across the room. Popping open the storage panel on the Hog, he selected an ice-flare launcher from the weapons cache, locked it into the vacant port and remapped his weapons.
Climbing back into the ship, he told Smittens and Leber: "Now figure out what we're doing before someone comes crashing through the door."
"Leber, you're in charge of Mogul. Make sure someone fixes him up." The Doctor paused, eyeing the small casket, now covered with juice. He seemed to make up his mind about something. "Also, my terms just altered a bit. I'll require that Mogul Velaio be granted immunity for the actions that led to his being expelled."
LeberMac wasn't looking terribly happy with the idea; steam might have been emanating from his ears. Lecter growled at him, and tossed the whacko's unconscious form at Leber: "I'm not expecting you to reinstate him, just get his ass back to smurf space and into a hospital rather than a cell. You can handle that; and I'm sure as Hell not taking him with me."
Lecter quickly dismounted the shattered camera from the S-port and tossed it across the room. Popping open the storage panel on the Hog, he selected an ice-flare launcher from the weapons cache, locked it into the vacant port and remapped his weapons.
Climbing back into the ship, he told Smittens and Leber: "Now figure out what we're doing before someone comes crashing through the door."