Forums » Role Playing
LeberMac noted with disdain that, indeed, Deep Blue had become as easy to breach as a 10-year old's myspace account. He turned the supercomputer off until it could be upgraded, and continued the search using the traditional militia-net. Mogul had to turn up somewhere. He pulled up the Itani's SOSUS (Solar Orbital Sub-Universe Scanning) Beacon Net and, much to his surprise, got an immediate hit on Mogul's transponder. In B-8 of all places, but far out of visual contact, drifting through the inky blackness.
LeberMac left Jallik immediately and was in Sedina within 10 minutes, trying to contact Mogul.
LeberMac disguised his voice and calmly said over the sector-wide broadcast, "This is Gerard Patrol, requesting radio contact." He hoped that Mogul would at least pick up, finding him without radar contact would have been an imposible task. However, since Mogul had switched off his active sensors and was in passive stealth mode, he had no idea who was actually broadcasting.
With an audible hiss, Mogul's comm became active and he responded. "Greetings Gerard Patrol, How may I... Oh. It's you."
"Yes." LeberMac responded. "What are your intentions with the Avalon?"
"I do not, at the present time, posess any Avalon of any type." Mogul quipped into the comm, safe in the knowledge that he could not be found as long as he did not warp out-of-sector.
"Do Not Attempt to approach Itani space with the Avalon, Mogul."
"I would not bring my Avalon in itani space you can be sure of that. Er... that is if I had one." Mogul claimed. He was still certainly demented, LeberMac thought.
Mogul toyed with flicking on his old [ITAN] tracking transponder to give Leber a brief glimmer of hope. He toggled it on and off three times very quickly, just to watch LeberMac scramble to attempt to locate his general position.
"Bastard." LeberMac grumbled into the open mic. His original plan of just killing Mogul was becoming more palatable.
"LeberMac, do you know what Avalon means in the ancient and now long-forgotten tongue of "French"?" Mogul said.
"Never heard of it." LeberMac said. "And I'm not interested in another of your fairy tales, Mogul. The only story I want to hear is how you turn yourself in and tell us where the Avalon is."
"It means 'Lets [all] swallow.' That's the GTS translation of 'Avalons.'" Mogul said proudly.
LeberMac recalled the tedious speeches that went on and on without making their point that Mogul used to give back when he was Commander of [ITAN]. They always began with a quote like this. LeberMac had respected Mogul then, had obeyed his orders without question. That was before Mogul released Lecter, and before he'd been led to a deathtrap in Bractus by Lecter and Mogul, and before Mogul had partnered with Borb Sarken to steal an Avalon to do Eo knows what with.
Now they both floated through grayspace, and both knew that if they could, they would kill the other.
"Mogul, you're still nuts." LeberMac said dryly. "At least let me know what you're doing with a weapon of mass destruction."
"No. Not at all." Mogul retorted, ..."and I'm beginning to believe I never was..."
"Mogul, it's imperative that you do NOT use the Avalon in Itani space. Do NOT approach Itani space or you will be fired upon. MOGUL! DO YOU HEAR ME?!"
Mogul had switched off his transponder and was content to drift through the void again, alone with his demented thoughts.
LeberMac keyed the scramble code for [ITAN]'s defense forces and issued another order:
Defensive posture Delta-Six. Establish scout positions at Eo's Welcome in Edras and the Geira wormhole in Deneb. Picket line defense at 3000 m at Ellias stand and Jallik Watch, with additional defense-in-depth on-station in those sectors. Avalon target is assumed to be military or civilian population centers in either system. Alert populations on Eo, Esta and Denia, and on Divinia as well. Begin preparations for mass evacuation in the event that becomes necessary.
And get those Goliath Cannons online.
LeberMac left Jallik immediately and was in Sedina within 10 minutes, trying to contact Mogul.
LeberMac disguised his voice and calmly said over the sector-wide broadcast, "This is Gerard Patrol, requesting radio contact." He hoped that Mogul would at least pick up, finding him without radar contact would have been an imposible task. However, since Mogul had switched off his active sensors and was in passive stealth mode, he had no idea who was actually broadcasting.
With an audible hiss, Mogul's comm became active and he responded. "Greetings Gerard Patrol, How may I... Oh. It's you."
"Yes." LeberMac responded. "What are your intentions with the Avalon?"
"I do not, at the present time, posess any Avalon of any type." Mogul quipped into the comm, safe in the knowledge that he could not be found as long as he did not warp out-of-sector.
"Do Not Attempt to approach Itani space with the Avalon, Mogul."
"I would not bring my Avalon in itani space you can be sure of that. Er... that is if I had one." Mogul claimed. He was still certainly demented, LeberMac thought.
Mogul toyed with flicking on his old [ITAN] tracking transponder to give Leber a brief glimmer of hope. He toggled it on and off three times very quickly, just to watch LeberMac scramble to attempt to locate his general position.
"Bastard." LeberMac grumbled into the open mic. His original plan of just killing Mogul was becoming more palatable.
"LeberMac, do you know what Avalon means in the ancient and now long-forgotten tongue of "French"?" Mogul said.
"Never heard of it." LeberMac said. "And I'm not interested in another of your fairy tales, Mogul. The only story I want to hear is how you turn yourself in and tell us where the Avalon is."
"It means 'Lets [all] swallow.' That's the GTS translation of 'Avalons.'" Mogul said proudly.
LeberMac recalled the tedious speeches that went on and on without making their point that Mogul used to give back when he was Commander of [ITAN]. They always began with a quote like this. LeberMac had respected Mogul then, had obeyed his orders without question. That was before Mogul released Lecter, and before he'd been led to a deathtrap in Bractus by Lecter and Mogul, and before Mogul had partnered with Borb Sarken to steal an Avalon to do Eo knows what with.
Now they both floated through grayspace, and both knew that if they could, they would kill the other.
"Mogul, you're still nuts." LeberMac said dryly. "At least let me know what you're doing with a weapon of mass destruction."
"No. Not at all." Mogul retorted, ..."and I'm beginning to believe I never was..."
"Mogul, it's imperative that you do NOT use the Avalon in Itani space. Do NOT approach Itani space or you will be fired upon. MOGUL! DO YOU HEAR ME?!"
Mogul had switched off his transponder and was content to drift through the void again, alone with his demented thoughts.
LeberMac keyed the scramble code for [ITAN]'s defense forces and issued another order:
Defensive posture Delta-Six. Establish scout positions at Eo's Welcome in Edras and the Geira wormhole in Deneb. Picket line defense at 3000 m at Ellias stand and Jallik Watch, with additional defense-in-depth on-station in those sectors. Avalon target is assumed to be military or civilian population centers in either system. Alert populations on Eo, Esta and Denia, and on Divinia as well. Begin preparations for mass evacuation in the event that becomes necessary.
And get those Goliath Cannons online.
LeberMac had taken his ninth shot of tequila for the night, it helped him think in complex situations.
New intel arriving on his desk pointed to a grayspace attack. That made no sense, however. There was no advantage for the traitor to commit such an attack in useless grayspace. The only possible beneft would be to disrupt the shipping within those systems, and that would have no effect whatsoever on the war... or would it?
He left his desk for what seemed like the first time in weeks, and made his way to grayspace. Mogul had surprised him on more than one occasion, but now LeberMac began to question himself...
What if Mogul wasn't crazy? What if Borb really HAD resigned from [ST6] and was actually being hunted by the Serco military? Had he judged so poorly?
He put those thoughts out of his mind. He had committed to a course of action, he had scrambled the entire might of the itani military to protect its borders with a continuing expense to the itani nation that would soon run into the trillions, and he had put out a death warrant on what was surely an itani traitor.
Right? He must be right. He HAD to be right. If he was wrong, the repurcussions would be... unpleasant.
New intel arriving on his desk pointed to a grayspace attack. That made no sense, however. There was no advantage for the traitor to commit such an attack in useless grayspace. The only possible beneft would be to disrupt the shipping within those systems, and that would have no effect whatsoever on the war... or would it?
He left his desk for what seemed like the first time in weeks, and made his way to grayspace. Mogul had surprised him on more than one occasion, but now LeberMac began to question himself...
What if Mogul wasn't crazy? What if Borb really HAD resigned from [ST6] and was actually being hunted by the Serco military? Had he judged so poorly?
He put those thoughts out of his mind. He had committed to a course of action, he had scrambled the entire might of the itani military to protect its borders with a continuing expense to the itani nation that would soon run into the trillions, and he had put out a death warrant on what was surely an itani traitor.
Right? He must be right. He HAD to be right. If he was wrong, the repurcussions would be... unpleasant.
"Leber!"
"Borb..."
"I was wondering if maybe you could help me with some thing?" I leaned back in my chair toying with the .45 I had just cleaned. I loved guns, if given enough time I was sure I could sit playing with one for an infinite amount of time. How ever word was the Itani had been amassing on the border, for some thing.
"No."
"Wait, wait, Leber, bro, I'm sorry about the way our last meeting went, really you just got in the way of Smittens, you know I would never really hurt you too bad."
Silence was all I heard on the other end.
"Right look you know that Mogul guy? I'm sure you do any way I had attempted to take him for a ransom or maybe bounty, you know how it is with me money money money. Any way the little Itani prick... Uh no offense, well he escaped and ran off with one of my ships and more money then he could ever spend in what I'm sure will be his short life."
"Borb, don't lie to m..."
"Leber, Leber, I just want him dead, now this is to hard to ask."
"You and every one else."
"Sure but I know where he will be in a few days. Now rumors are out there saying I'm helping him and that the attack will happen in grey space, but the intel I have says other wise. You see I've been following him you know I was interested in what some one would do with all that money and such... Any way as you may or may no know he has an Avalon. You know those really big bombs they used back in the day before the hippies came around and made us stop."
"I know what an Avalon is and I know he has one..."
"Good! Then we are on the same page sort of. Did you know he plans to use it on GR? And did you know he has modified it with purexith? Enough so that the fallout will affect as far as Eo system? That's alotta smurf's Leber."
Silence, this time the good kind, he was most likely looking for a drink to help him think about what I was saying.
"He needs to be killed Leber, killed before he can kill us all. Both our nations will suffer to much if he is allowed to shoot that thing off. We gotta take him out."
"Borb..."
"I'll tell you what, don't believe me believe the intel, I'm going to send along what I have. Hehe, better yet I'll stick it in your easily hacked mainframe for you to look at. No need to get back with me I'm a busy guy and I have a killing to organize but if you would be so good as to keep the smurf side of GR Mogul free you'll save me having to send teams into Itani space on patrols that will most likely eliminate more then just Mogul.
Well then good luck with your side of things, I'm off, have a good'un."
And with that I hung up, and placed the "intel" on his mainframe as I said I would. It took less then an hour to hack his computers, make up false intel, and then give him a call, really I could not help but think I was getting far to good at lying. The conversation was a living work of art, I gave him little time to talk or even think, just bombarded him with information, with luck such a bombardment would keep him from asking to many questions and he would take it as being true, and hopefully keep all his forces in Deneb.
Screwball was next on my list to call.
"Um hello?"
"Screwball you busy today I think I owe you some money."
"Commander Sarken Sir! Um no sir I'm not busy well I mean I am but uh I mean not to busy for you uh..."
"Haha, I think I owe a few mil and I'm going to go ahead and pay for the next month of radio ads in-advance just incase I take a vacation like my last one."
"Oh yes sir vacations are good you should be able to take one when you uh when ever."
"I agree, Also you wouldn't happen to have any Samo laying around would you?
In less then four hours I had enough Samo to make Mogul a very happy man, and I had helped the TGFT on a few convoy runs further helping improve ST6 TGFT relations, and more importantly keeping the valuable Screwball close at hand and happy.
Grinning with joy at how smoothly things where going I made my next call to some one in grey space.
"Ahoy?"
"The peaches are in full bloom."
"Aye, ye need tu stop look'n at them Corvus lasses, they'll kill yuh."
"How is it going?"
The man replied this time with a flat non-accented voice speaking in a slow and seemingly well thought out manner.
"Good, the... Harvest is safe and we are thoroughly inspecting it to learn what. Chemicals are used to make, peaches grow like this one."
"Good, and no problems so far."
"None, any, weeds that popped up where pulled before they could prevent any growth."
"Good, I'll see there is a large bonus for you and the rest of the boys."
"Thank you sir, and have a nice day."
"You too."
As I made the transfer of funds I called up the last person on my list.
"Sir?"
"Gimme a SitRep."
"Nothing has changed, it's just like yesterday before you left. Shipments come, money comes cargo changes hands, loaders are well paid beers on the boss. And no one cares."
"What about the VIPs they are suppose to show some time this week?"
"Yeah, turns out that may have just been a rumor."
"So no new intel."
"None, sir. How are things on the out side, has any one asked any questions?"
"Heh, no they all know who I am it's expected for me to leave like this at times. Besides the vacation to Sol II story is holding up well. No one can prove I was not where I said I was so why should they think other wise."
"And the blue?"
"He is still kicking and doing well based on the lack of numbers in my accounts."
"Do you think his plan will work?"
"It should in theory. But in practicality I dunno."
"And if it does not work?"
"I grease a few palms to keep from jail time for illegal use of well you know, and it is all forgotten in a few weeks. Nothing much is lost other then blue."
"I see, so we have nothing to lose then?"
"Correct, nothing that has not already been lost."
"Roger that sir."
"Take care."
And with that I headed off to try and get some sleep, I had a few long days ahead of me and would need what ever I could get.
"Borb..."
"I was wondering if maybe you could help me with some thing?" I leaned back in my chair toying with the .45 I had just cleaned. I loved guns, if given enough time I was sure I could sit playing with one for an infinite amount of time. How ever word was the Itani had been amassing on the border, for some thing.
"No."
"Wait, wait, Leber, bro, I'm sorry about the way our last meeting went, really you just got in the way of Smittens, you know I would never really hurt you too bad."
Silence was all I heard on the other end.
"Right look you know that Mogul guy? I'm sure you do any way I had attempted to take him for a ransom or maybe bounty, you know how it is with me money money money. Any way the little Itani prick... Uh no offense, well he escaped and ran off with one of my ships and more money then he could ever spend in what I'm sure will be his short life."
"Borb, don't lie to m..."
"Leber, Leber, I just want him dead, now this is to hard to ask."
"You and every one else."
"Sure but I know where he will be in a few days. Now rumors are out there saying I'm helping him and that the attack will happen in grey space, but the intel I have says other wise. You see I've been following him you know I was interested in what some one would do with all that money and such... Any way as you may or may no know he has an Avalon. You know those really big bombs they used back in the day before the hippies came around and made us stop."
"I know what an Avalon is and I know he has one..."
"Good! Then we are on the same page sort of. Did you know he plans to use it on GR? And did you know he has modified it with purexith? Enough so that the fallout will affect as far as Eo system? That's alotta smurf's Leber."
Silence, this time the good kind, he was most likely looking for a drink to help him think about what I was saying.
"He needs to be killed Leber, killed before he can kill us all. Both our nations will suffer to much if he is allowed to shoot that thing off. We gotta take him out."
"Borb..."
"I'll tell you what, don't believe me believe the intel, I'm going to send along what I have. Hehe, better yet I'll stick it in your easily hacked mainframe for you to look at. No need to get back with me I'm a busy guy and I have a killing to organize but if you would be so good as to keep the smurf side of GR Mogul free you'll save me having to send teams into Itani space on patrols that will most likely eliminate more then just Mogul.
Well then good luck with your side of things, I'm off, have a good'un."
And with that I hung up, and placed the "intel" on his mainframe as I said I would. It took less then an hour to hack his computers, make up false intel, and then give him a call, really I could not help but think I was getting far to good at lying. The conversation was a living work of art, I gave him little time to talk or even think, just bombarded him with information, with luck such a bombardment would keep him from asking to many questions and he would take it as being true, and hopefully keep all his forces in Deneb.
Screwball was next on my list to call.
"Um hello?"
"Screwball you busy today I think I owe you some money."
"Commander Sarken Sir! Um no sir I'm not busy well I mean I am but uh I mean not to busy for you uh..."
"Haha, I think I owe a few mil and I'm going to go ahead and pay for the next month of radio ads in-advance just incase I take a vacation like my last one."
"Oh yes sir vacations are good you should be able to take one when you uh when ever."
"I agree, Also you wouldn't happen to have any Samo laying around would you?
In less then four hours I had enough Samo to make Mogul a very happy man, and I had helped the TGFT on a few convoy runs further helping improve ST6 TGFT relations, and more importantly keeping the valuable Screwball close at hand and happy.
Grinning with joy at how smoothly things where going I made my next call to some one in grey space.
"Ahoy?"
"The peaches are in full bloom."
"Aye, ye need tu stop look'n at them Corvus lasses, they'll kill yuh."
"How is it going?"
The man replied this time with a flat non-accented voice speaking in a slow and seemingly well thought out manner.
"Good, the... Harvest is safe and we are thoroughly inspecting it to learn what. Chemicals are used to make, peaches grow like this one."
"Good, and no problems so far."
"None, any, weeds that popped up where pulled before they could prevent any growth."
"Good, I'll see there is a large bonus for you and the rest of the boys."
"Thank you sir, and have a nice day."
"You too."
As I made the transfer of funds I called up the last person on my list.
"Sir?"
"Gimme a SitRep."
"Nothing has changed, it's just like yesterday before you left. Shipments come, money comes cargo changes hands, loaders are well paid beers on the boss. And no one cares."
"What about the VIPs they are suppose to show some time this week?"
"Yeah, turns out that may have just been a rumor."
"So no new intel."
"None, sir. How are things on the out side, has any one asked any questions?"
"Heh, no they all know who I am it's expected for me to leave like this at times. Besides the vacation to Sol II story is holding up well. No one can prove I was not where I said I was so why should they think other wise."
"And the blue?"
"He is still kicking and doing well based on the lack of numbers in my accounts."
"Do you think his plan will work?"
"It should in theory. But in practicality I dunno."
"And if it does not work?"
"I grease a few palms to keep from jail time for illegal use of well you know, and it is all forgotten in a few weeks. Nothing much is lost other then blue."
"I see, so we have nothing to lose then?"
"Correct, nothing that has not already been lost."
"Roger that sir."
"Take care."
And with that I headed off to try and get some sleep, I had a few long days ahead of me and would need what ever I could get.
LeberMac immediately tried to trace the transmission, but apart from being transmitted from somewhere inside SercoSecureNet, it hadn't lasted long enough for an accurate trace. Like usual. If nothing else, Borb did maintain good operational security.
He itched at his prosthetic foot. The phantom limb pain was suppressed by his nominal itani mental training, but it still took a bit of focus away from his everyday activity. Someday he would repay Borb for his little ambush, but for now his focus was being ramped up to locate Mogul Velaio, and the capital class Constellation ship that he had packed with samoflange with an Avalon on top.
That kind of destruction would certainly be enough to disrupt local spacetime, it was possible that he would use it in Geira, but unlikely. Mogul's slow TPG Constellation would be destroyed almost immediately by the Serco strike forces. Unless it was prepositioned in Geira, the odds were that Borb was lying again, like usual.
Which brought up another little interesting tidbit to examine. Borb wanted Mogul dead as well. Why go to all the trouble to save him only to see hiim destroyed? Unless Borb would profit somehow from Mogul's death, with the detonation of a capital-class ship that could destabilize a wormhole.
The grayspace scenario seemed more likely now. Borb could profit from gun-running for his old Serco contacts, especially when he could operate semi-independently with his grayspace contacts as well. In fact, perhaps the one person with the most to gain from a destabilized wormhole in grayspace was... Borb.
He had to act soon. He dialed up his commander and began planning an operation.
He itched at his prosthetic foot. The phantom limb pain was suppressed by his nominal itani mental training, but it still took a bit of focus away from his everyday activity. Someday he would repay Borb for his little ambush, but for now his focus was being ramped up to locate Mogul Velaio, and the capital class Constellation ship that he had packed with samoflange with an Avalon on top.
That kind of destruction would certainly be enough to disrupt local spacetime, it was possible that he would use it in Geira, but unlikely. Mogul's slow TPG Constellation would be destroyed almost immediately by the Serco strike forces. Unless it was prepositioned in Geira, the odds were that Borb was lying again, like usual.
Which brought up another little interesting tidbit to examine. Borb wanted Mogul dead as well. Why go to all the trouble to save him only to see hiim destroyed? Unless Borb would profit somehow from Mogul's death, with the detonation of a capital-class ship that could destabilize a wormhole.
The grayspace scenario seemed more likely now. Borb could profit from gun-running for his old Serco contacts, especially when he could operate semi-independently with his grayspace contacts as well. In fact, perhaps the one person with the most to gain from a destabilized wormhole in grayspace was... Borb.
He had to act soon. He dialed up his commander and began planning an operation.
Dr. Lecter was not pleased.
The Warthog Mk II, while an excellent cruiser and interceptor, was not meant to be a floating home. Certainly not for months at a time, and most especially not for an oversized Serco. He'd even tried flying au natural for a bit, depressurizing the cockpit and zipping along with the canopy locked back. This didn't last long: the space junk kept getting in his teeth.
The Miharu clones, in cryo, stacked like cordwood in the hold, were starting to run low. Likewise, the stores of chianti and scotch were within minimally acceptable levels. The Doctor growled to himself, "This op was not supposed to be this damn complicated!"
It had been a simple and brilliant plan, really. Approached by a shadowy organization that worked well off the radar of the major factions and nations, Lecter had been tapped to execute a massive and novel attack. Tasked with rendering the Itani nation a non-force, he'd gotten creative. Crashing out of Sol II like a genetically enhanced taurean monstrosity, Lecter had set up a perfect confluence of influential Itani, all of whom had reason to know and believe that what he brought--a fully functional NSI prototype--was a weapon against the Serco that they could ill afford to ignore. But once the ideal Itani singular consicousness was realized, he knew, they'd be easy pickings.
Not for the Serco, of course. With the power of the NSI properly harnessed, the Itani would indeed be capable of rebuffing the most vicious Serco attacks with impunity, almost without thought. That aspect alone, the Doctor knew, had to call out to their sense of superiority: what Itani doesn't dream of being able to realize the ideal of ignoring the red savages like the lower form of life that they are... but without risking life and limb.
Of course, there were more deadly things in the galaxy than Serco: the Void would have easily taken control of the new Itani collective, snuffing them all out, every last living Itani soul, in a single decisive instant. That was, Lecter knew from personal experience, the inherent flaw in the NSI design. It provided an access point for things too alien to our existence to usually cross over.
The Itani would have been gone from the landscape, and the Void's mechanical forces would have been on even footing with the individual minded Serco. The Serco, masters of destroying the mechanical and inorganic minions of the Void, would have easily mopped up the mess. Lecter spat: " That is, if it hadn't been for Leber's damn lack of trust, Smitten's sudden bleeding heart sentimentality and Mogul's general insanity!"
Dr. Lecter pondered his current state: cruising through the blackness of space, the NSI prototype anchored in his samoflange-shielded skull, unable to prevent the impending clusterfuck that Borb and Mogul had initiated. Through the NSI, he knew what Leber and Borb knew. And that was just as good as knowing what Mogul knew: even better, since it spared him the unpleasant insanity. But influencing the rapidly unfolding drama was another matter, since he couldn't exert any force over either Borb or Leber, and to return to Serco, Itani or Union space at the moment would be unwise.
His plan to erase an entire particularly offensive species from existance was not looking successful. But with most of the universe busy searching for Mogul and his stolen Avalon... it was now time to move to Plan B.
"Perhaps it is time to pitch the NSI's potential to a more zealous group of smufs," he thought. They wouldn't be terribly receptive to the Doctor's continued existence, much less his presence, but the right information about a certain denizen of Odia M-14 would more than buy him a favor from a certain Captain.
The Warthog Mk II, while an excellent cruiser and interceptor, was not meant to be a floating home. Certainly not for months at a time, and most especially not for an oversized Serco. He'd even tried flying au natural for a bit, depressurizing the cockpit and zipping along with the canopy locked back. This didn't last long: the space junk kept getting in his teeth.
The Miharu clones, in cryo, stacked like cordwood in the hold, were starting to run low. Likewise, the stores of chianti and scotch were within minimally acceptable levels. The Doctor growled to himself, "This op was not supposed to be this damn complicated!"
It had been a simple and brilliant plan, really. Approached by a shadowy organization that worked well off the radar of the major factions and nations, Lecter had been tapped to execute a massive and novel attack. Tasked with rendering the Itani nation a non-force, he'd gotten creative. Crashing out of Sol II like a genetically enhanced taurean monstrosity, Lecter had set up a perfect confluence of influential Itani, all of whom had reason to know and believe that what he brought--a fully functional NSI prototype--was a weapon against the Serco that they could ill afford to ignore. But once the ideal Itani singular consicousness was realized, he knew, they'd be easy pickings.
Not for the Serco, of course. With the power of the NSI properly harnessed, the Itani would indeed be capable of rebuffing the most vicious Serco attacks with impunity, almost without thought. That aspect alone, the Doctor knew, had to call out to their sense of superiority: what Itani doesn't dream of being able to realize the ideal of ignoring the red savages like the lower form of life that they are... but without risking life and limb.
Of course, there were more deadly things in the galaxy than Serco: the Void would have easily taken control of the new Itani collective, snuffing them all out, every last living Itani soul, in a single decisive instant. That was, Lecter knew from personal experience, the inherent flaw in the NSI design. It provided an access point for things too alien to our existence to usually cross over.
The Itani would have been gone from the landscape, and the Void's mechanical forces would have been on even footing with the individual minded Serco. The Serco, masters of destroying the mechanical and inorganic minions of the Void, would have easily mopped up the mess. Lecter spat: " That is, if it hadn't been for Leber's damn lack of trust, Smitten's sudden bleeding heart sentimentality and Mogul's general insanity!"
Dr. Lecter pondered his current state: cruising through the blackness of space, the NSI prototype anchored in his samoflange-shielded skull, unable to prevent the impending clusterfuck that Borb and Mogul had initiated. Through the NSI, he knew what Leber and Borb knew. And that was just as good as knowing what Mogul knew: even better, since it spared him the unpleasant insanity. But influencing the rapidly unfolding drama was another matter, since he couldn't exert any force over either Borb or Leber, and to return to Serco, Itani or Union space at the moment would be unwise.
His plan to erase an entire particularly offensive species from existance was not looking successful. But with most of the universe busy searching for Mogul and his stolen Avalon... it was now time to move to Plan B.
"Perhaps it is time to pitch the NSI's potential to a more zealous group of smufs," he thought. They wouldn't be terribly receptive to the Doctor's continued existence, much less his presence, but the right information about a certain denizen of Odia M-14 would more than buy him a favor from a certain Captain.
Her PDS lay on her desk, still battered and blinking from the abuse she had given it. Her demeanor had not changed much, not even the news of her partial success against her target could do that. She was depressed, running out of ideas and resources to back up those ideas she had. Any help would do at this point...
Flicking on the cracked screen, she turned bright red in anger at the visage that greeted her.
"I know who the hell you are and whatever it is, no. How the hell did you contact me anyway..."
Lecter cackled, "Nice to meet you too, Captain. I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure this information on that rogue monk of yours is beyond your pride to receive."
...
As she sat there stunned, he continued,"As to how, we have mutual acquiantances and let's leave it at that. Now, would you like the information or not? I'm a very busy man."
"Yes, of co-"
"Good. For the small favor of pushing the matter of acquiring the NSI prototype from me before your superiors, you can have all the information I possess on Blue Steak."
Her eyes narrowed. There has to be a catch, and the sale of a device isn't really big enough... "There is something else, isn't there?"
"How intuitive of you. I will ask for a favor of you, in due time."
"I'd rather sell myself into Serco captivity"
"Careful, you might give me ideas. I've run out of time to chitchat at the moment, Captain. I'll await your reply."
Screaming in rage, she threw the datapad aginst the wall for the third time that week. But she didn't stop there, not until she was sedated minutes later, in the middle of a destroyed room...
Six hours later
She set the autoreply on her PDS to Lecter. If she contacted him again, he would receive this message:
Deal.
Flicking on the cracked screen, she turned bright red in anger at the visage that greeted her.
"I know who the hell you are and whatever it is, no. How the hell did you contact me anyway..."
Lecter cackled, "Nice to meet you too, Captain. I'm sorry to hear that. I'm sure this information on that rogue monk of yours is beyond your pride to receive."
...
As she sat there stunned, he continued,"As to how, we have mutual acquiantances and let's leave it at that. Now, would you like the information or not? I'm a very busy man."
"Yes, of co-"
"Good. For the small favor of pushing the matter of acquiring the NSI prototype from me before your superiors, you can have all the information I possess on Blue Steak."
Her eyes narrowed. There has to be a catch, and the sale of a device isn't really big enough... "There is something else, isn't there?"
"How intuitive of you. I will ask for a favor of you, in due time."
"I'd rather sell myself into Serco captivity"
"Careful, you might give me ideas. I've run out of time to chitchat at the moment, Captain. I'll await your reply."
Screaming in rage, she threw the datapad aginst the wall for the third time that week. But she didn't stop there, not until she was sedated minutes later, in the middle of a destroyed room...
Six hours later
She set the autoreply on her PDS to Lecter. If she contacted him again, he would receive this message:
Deal.
"Lieutenant, please stand and raise your right hand..."
The flash-strobes went off for the media circus as LeberMac pushed back his chair and stood, promising to tell the truth to the powerful assemblage of Itani military which encircled him, perched behind their expensive desks like Dantian Vultures.
The swearing in was completed and LeberMac was granted permission to sit. He did so, and his nervous lawyer sat as well and whispred to him as he cameras rolled, eager to capture the ensuing bloodbath in its entirety.
The hearings lasted for several days, the questions got progressively harder as the days wore on...
"... Lieu-TEN-ant... please enlighten us as to why you thought it would be prudent to fully alert the entire Itani nation military for this incident? You see, Lieu-TEN-ant, we live in a idealized democracy, and someone is going to have to foot the bill for this force deployment. Can you help me provide an answer to our people?"
LeberMac spoke into the microphone and squinted into the harsh lights, "Senator, with information available at the time, it was widely believed that, even within our own intelligence services, that the ... target... would attack a military or population center in Divinia or Eo."
The corpulent senator from Eo shifted in his seat and bellowed into his microphone, interrupting LeberMac's repetitive testimony, "Why, sir, do you insist on calling this terrorist a "target"? Call the traitor what he IS! An infidel! A turncoat! An opportunist of the worst variety! A collaborator with the enemy!"
LeberMac allowed the senator to finish his soundbite for the evening INN news while he focused on the fake woodgrain on the desk in front of him.
"I no longer think that Mogul was acting against the interests of the Itani nation." LeberMac said softly.
"Well, thankfully this commission has determined that you won't need to be determining what the interests of the Itani Nation are," chimed in the senior Senator from Cantus, a balding, tall man dressed in his Monk robes like he always did for political photo appearances. "In fact, with my colleague's permission, I'd like to explore the event itself."
"I look forward to briefing the council." LeberMac said. His worthless lawyer whispered in his ear and began scribbling furiously on the notepads.
"I see here by your report that you were caught without ANY backup in the Odia and Sedina skirmishes and actually had to rely on OUTSIDE support to engage the Constellation." The tall senator glowered from his desk on high, "Five pilots from the [TGFT] TRADING guild, assorted UIT assistance, and help from [SCAR], even. Shameful..." the senator clucked his disapproval as the rest of the council murmured disapprovingly. The cameras captured their condescension perfectly.
"Given the lack of available Itani resources on the opposite side of the galaxy, I thought it best to enlist whatever help was available at the moment." LeberMac retorted sarcastically.
"Yes, Lieu-TEN-ant," The fat senator from Eo chimed in, "... a lack of resources caused by your failure to position forces properly, a lack of resources caused by an inability to coordinate properly with your commanding officer, a lack of resources in your own strategic planning which is only now becoming apparent."
"Senator, as I've said before, there was No WAY to cover all of known space for the ship. We had conflicting intel reports all the way up until the actual first skirmish began in Odia." LeberMac reiterated that fact for what seemed like the thousandth time.
Another senator from Metana spoke up, an old crone who had been on the Itani high council for what seemed like millenia, "A search you would not have had to conduct if you had been able to recover Mogul Velaio on your mission to Bractus. Yet another in a string of failures... tsk tsk..." She purposefully tapped her foot in indignation, with the double meaning made clear as she smirked while looking at LeberMac's prosthetic foot.
LeberMac could see where this was going, the end result of the inquiries had already been scripted in the back rooms and dark offices of the Itani High Council chambers. "That mission was secret for reasons that I have already explained to you at length, Senator." He began to lose his cool, "... and if you'd pay attention to the intelligence briefings instead of jaunting around to parties with lobbyists, you'd be substantially more well-informed." Hell, if he was going down at least he should speak his mind.
The withered old hag turned red and rose from her seat awkwardly, wagging her finger, "You're the last one that should lecture ME about party habits, you drunken fool! Because of YOU this nation has lost key prisoners, lost weapons of mass destruction, and now the trade network of the galaxy has a hole in it!"
"Indeed, add to that gross insubordination of your superior officer during the battle, countermanding his orders and placing the entire command structure of the guild into chaos at the precise time when order was required!" the Tall Senator from Cantus interjected.
"Ah Do be-LIEVE that we have exhusted our time with the Lieu-TEN-ant today..." The fat senator spoke before the entire panel could begin clamoring for attention. "I do believe that we'll be able to finish up without you, LeberMac... you are dismissed."
LeberMac stood and forced a salute, which was weakly returned by the assemblage of senators. He walked out stiffly through the old solid wooden doors of the council chamber and through the throng of reporters. Aides parted them like water and he climbed into the waiting hovercar.
"Driver, the nearest bar." LeberMac said.
The driver obliged and LeberMac spent the remaining several hours at the bar, and saw the results of the inquiry on INN, not that he had any real doubt of what the outcome was going to be.
Obviously pleased with himself, that rotund Senator from Eo was holdig a press conference as if he'd solved galactic hunger or something: "Due to his fail-yaahs in the line of duty, LeberMac is heeere-bye stripped of the rank of Lieu-TEN-ant and councilmembah until furthah notice. Due to these circumstances, new leadah-ship is required and in fact.. the entire [ITAN] leadership structure should undergo rapid change to avoid these here kinds of problems in the futuah..."
LeberMac threw his shotglass at the INN monitor, shattering the screen. Muttering, he stalked out of the bar, made his way to the nearest spaceport, and blasted out of the dock in his Hornet, bound for grayspace.
The flash-strobes went off for the media circus as LeberMac pushed back his chair and stood, promising to tell the truth to the powerful assemblage of Itani military which encircled him, perched behind their expensive desks like Dantian Vultures.
The swearing in was completed and LeberMac was granted permission to sit. He did so, and his nervous lawyer sat as well and whispred to him as he cameras rolled, eager to capture the ensuing bloodbath in its entirety.
The hearings lasted for several days, the questions got progressively harder as the days wore on...
"... Lieu-TEN-ant... please enlighten us as to why you thought it would be prudent to fully alert the entire Itani nation military for this incident? You see, Lieu-TEN-ant, we live in a idealized democracy, and someone is going to have to foot the bill for this force deployment. Can you help me provide an answer to our people?"
LeberMac spoke into the microphone and squinted into the harsh lights, "Senator, with information available at the time, it was widely believed that, even within our own intelligence services, that the ... target... would attack a military or population center in Divinia or Eo."
The corpulent senator from Eo shifted in his seat and bellowed into his microphone, interrupting LeberMac's repetitive testimony, "Why, sir, do you insist on calling this terrorist a "target"? Call the traitor what he IS! An infidel! A turncoat! An opportunist of the worst variety! A collaborator with the enemy!"
LeberMac allowed the senator to finish his soundbite for the evening INN news while he focused on the fake woodgrain on the desk in front of him.
"I no longer think that Mogul was acting against the interests of the Itani nation." LeberMac said softly.
"Well, thankfully this commission has determined that you won't need to be determining what the interests of the Itani Nation are," chimed in the senior Senator from Cantus, a balding, tall man dressed in his Monk robes like he always did for political photo appearances. "In fact, with my colleague's permission, I'd like to explore the event itself."
"I look forward to briefing the council." LeberMac said. His worthless lawyer whispered in his ear and began scribbling furiously on the notepads.
"I see here by your report that you were caught without ANY backup in the Odia and Sedina skirmishes and actually had to rely on OUTSIDE support to engage the Constellation." The tall senator glowered from his desk on high, "Five pilots from the [TGFT] TRADING guild, assorted UIT assistance, and help from [SCAR], even. Shameful..." the senator clucked his disapproval as the rest of the council murmured disapprovingly. The cameras captured their condescension perfectly.
"Given the lack of available Itani resources on the opposite side of the galaxy, I thought it best to enlist whatever help was available at the moment." LeberMac retorted sarcastically.
"Yes, Lieu-TEN-ant," The fat senator from Eo chimed in, "... a lack of resources caused by your failure to position forces properly, a lack of resources caused by an inability to coordinate properly with your commanding officer, a lack of resources in your own strategic planning which is only now becoming apparent."
"Senator, as I've said before, there was No WAY to cover all of known space for the ship. We had conflicting intel reports all the way up until the actual first skirmish began in Odia." LeberMac reiterated that fact for what seemed like the thousandth time.
Another senator from Metana spoke up, an old crone who had been on the Itani high council for what seemed like millenia, "A search you would not have had to conduct if you had been able to recover Mogul Velaio on your mission to Bractus. Yet another in a string of failures... tsk tsk..." She purposefully tapped her foot in indignation, with the double meaning made clear as she smirked while looking at LeberMac's prosthetic foot.
LeberMac could see where this was going, the end result of the inquiries had already been scripted in the back rooms and dark offices of the Itani High Council chambers. "That mission was secret for reasons that I have already explained to you at length, Senator." He began to lose his cool, "... and if you'd pay attention to the intelligence briefings instead of jaunting around to parties with lobbyists, you'd be substantially more well-informed." Hell, if he was going down at least he should speak his mind.
The withered old hag turned red and rose from her seat awkwardly, wagging her finger, "You're the last one that should lecture ME about party habits, you drunken fool! Because of YOU this nation has lost key prisoners, lost weapons of mass destruction, and now the trade network of the galaxy has a hole in it!"
"Indeed, add to that gross insubordination of your superior officer during the battle, countermanding his orders and placing the entire command structure of the guild into chaos at the precise time when order was required!" the Tall Senator from Cantus interjected.
"Ah Do be-LIEVE that we have exhusted our time with the Lieu-TEN-ant today..." The fat senator spoke before the entire panel could begin clamoring for attention. "I do believe that we'll be able to finish up without you, LeberMac... you are dismissed."
LeberMac stood and forced a salute, which was weakly returned by the assemblage of senators. He walked out stiffly through the old solid wooden doors of the council chamber and through the throng of reporters. Aides parted them like water and he climbed into the waiting hovercar.
"Driver, the nearest bar." LeberMac said.
The driver obliged and LeberMac spent the remaining several hours at the bar, and saw the results of the inquiry on INN, not that he had any real doubt of what the outcome was going to be.
Obviously pleased with himself, that rotund Senator from Eo was holdig a press conference as if he'd solved galactic hunger or something: "Due to his fail-yaahs in the line of duty, LeberMac is heeere-bye stripped of the rank of Lieu-TEN-ant and councilmembah until furthah notice. Due to these circumstances, new leadah-ship is required and in fact.. the entire [ITAN] leadership structure should undergo rapid change to avoid these here kinds of problems in the futuah..."
LeberMac threw his shotglass at the INN monitor, shattering the screen. Muttering, he stalked out of the bar, made his way to the nearest spaceport, and blasted out of the dock in his Hornet, bound for grayspace.
Jestasis Bess slowly leaves through a side door. He ripps off his [ITAN] patch and leaving it behind as he goes through the exit.
"What a travasty of Justice", he mimbles to the cold still air...
"What a travasty of Justice", he mimbles to the cold still air...
Can you please reveal what was in these Mogul's broadcasts?
Sorry for not listening TGFT radio in proper time...
Sorry for not listening TGFT radio in proper time...
ooc;
First broadcast:
http://homepage.mac.com/mouser/vendetta/mogul/first_mogul_broadcast.mp3
Second Broadcast:
http://homepage.mac.com/mouser/vendetta/mogul/second_mogul_broadcast.mp3
Second Broadcast Transcript:
http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/11987?page=2#178934
First broadcast:
http://homepage.mac.com/mouser/vendetta/mogul/first_mogul_broadcast.mp3
Second Broadcast:
http://homepage.mac.com/mouser/vendetta/mogul/second_mogul_broadcast.mp3
Second Broadcast Transcript:
http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/11987?page=2#178934
Uncharted Sector, Extreme Galactic North-East
Eight Weeks Flight Beyond Pelatus P1
Dr. Lecter amused himself with the thought of how frustrated and enraged the brief discussion had made the Akanese: the last image transmitted was, upon close analysis, a wall approaching at high speed. He laughed to himself: “things haven’t really been going her way lately, I suppose.”
Not that Lecter was so much better off at the moment: he was running ever lower on scotch and Miharu clones, and his last supplies of Guinness were already gone. Something had to be done, and done fast. He opened a channel to the short-fused Akanese, only to receive a terse, one word auto-reply: “Deal.”
The Doctor smiled. Things were looking up. “I’ll just touch and go in Grayspace, resupply at the bar, and double check my intel on Erik’s whereabouts.” All he needed to do was stop in long enough to get a more current read on the positions and intentions of a few key players in the ongoing galactic game: a lot had happened since his opening moves in Bractus, and he clearly needed to modify his approach. Looking over the map, he plotted a long course back towards known space, terminating in Odia M-14.
“Maybe I’ll even have a chance to have a few words with the staff; it’s been so long.” Grinning evilly at the thought, Lecter chuckled. “Too long.”
Eight Weeks Flight Beyond Pelatus P1
Dr. Lecter amused himself with the thought of how frustrated and enraged the brief discussion had made the Akanese: the last image transmitted was, upon close analysis, a wall approaching at high speed. He laughed to himself: “things haven’t really been going her way lately, I suppose.”
Not that Lecter was so much better off at the moment: he was running ever lower on scotch and Miharu clones, and his last supplies of Guinness were already gone. Something had to be done, and done fast. He opened a channel to the short-fused Akanese, only to receive a terse, one word auto-reply: “Deal.”
The Doctor smiled. Things were looking up. “I’ll just touch and go in Grayspace, resupply at the bar, and double check my intel on Erik’s whereabouts.” All he needed to do was stop in long enough to get a more current read on the positions and intentions of a few key players in the ongoing galactic game: a lot had happened since his opening moves in Bractus, and he clearly needed to modify his approach. Looking over the map, he plotted a long course back towards known space, terminating in Odia M-14.
“Maybe I’ll even have a chance to have a few words with the staff; it’s been so long.” Grinning evilly at the thought, Lecter chuckled. “Too long.”
Uncharted Sector, Extreme Galactic North-East
Eight Weeks Flight Beyond Pelatus P1
His one thousand, seven hundred and seventy-year long run had come to an end. Dr. Lecter sat in the massive great-room of his Sol II, Pacifica province home. All that remained in the house was a Warthog Mk II on the flight deck; some items he was packing into a crate; and a picture of a long lost man, cut from a history book circa 2661, resting in the cold ashes of the hearth.
Lecter's flowing handwriting across the man's chest, spleen to right clavicle: Ta-ta, 'Dr. L.'
Like most of the incredibly wealthy, Dr. Lecter had many amusing and expensive items scattered around the universe: he had already liquidated them all. Like most of the human race, he also had a few things of special, sentimental value: Lecter was crating them up now.
His Lieutenant's Bars, the first issued by [SCAR]. He could recall where in the roid in Rhamus he was when A-dawg first contacted him, asking him to please sign on as a plankowner. He had last recalled that moment when he'd heard that the same man had sold him out. A-dawg never did reappear: a pity, as Lecter would have enjoyed flaying him alive. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/13295 http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/15001 "Fucking hypocrite," he growled to himself. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/11961
LeberMac's femur... he'd ripped it from one of the many corpses the inept [IA] pilot had left floating in the Void, and carved his message on Broma-ba-Slick's desk with it. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/10576
A piece of the scarred hull plating from the Rune Valkyrie that had encountered the first Hive Queen to go rogue, way back when. The ship in which he had first entered the Void.
The ID transponder of a pilot named 'Arolte', and holo-shots of the memorial service for several [BLAK] members believed (wrongly) to have been killed by said pilot. Dr. Lecter had retrieved the transponder from the same place most all pilots kept theirs: the center of the brain stem. He'd been less than delicate, having used a hatchet. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/11224 http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/11229
A small leviathan, carved from pure samoflange. Despite the figurine's tiny size, no being other than a Serco could have moved it. He'd had it made from the wreckage of the galaxy's first known leviathan.
Several tapes, stacked neatly in the crate. First, one of his experimental procedure involving samoflange and Joyce Sanders's skull. The experiment had been a stunning success, preventing the effects of the spike from influencing Sanders; the other side effects were intriguing as well. The horrid screams of his patient, necessarily conscious and unanesthetized for the procedure, were well worth the results of the experiment. [link, anyone?]
Next a communications transcript tape. It confirmed that MonkofAkan had paid 40,000,000 credits for the release of a stasis pod containing Joyce Sanders, rightfully salvaged by Dr. Lecter... and also provided the proof of a contract between Miharu and Dr. Lecter for a favor, to be defined by Lecter.
The next to last tape in the stack was actually double-sided: Miharu had provided a good deal of footage. From her initial entry into the Pacifica mansion until her bloody exit in the observation tower, her stay and her fulfillment of her obligations were all etched in the crystal. [again, link, anyone?]
The most recent tape contained the torture and eventual murder of Vionka Velaio at the hands of a clone of her son. Dr. Lecter had snatched her from under the nose of an Itani station's security and devised the ideal death for her. Not that he'd had anything against Vionka personally. But Dr. Lecter hoped that Mogul had been watching on. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/15230?page=3 http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/15713
A bottle of tequila and the DNA of a now utterly extinct blue agave cactus went in next. LeberMac would kill for that vial.
The small, oblong box that housed the remains of Tonie Velaio. He had been a hard catch, as Dr. Lecter raced against half a dozen others, scouring Serco space using clues broadcast by the wayward child. He'd found the brat first, and send him onto the abattoir. Thus began the feud between himself and the house of Velaio. The coffin was so small as to fit neatly into one side of the crate. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/11658
Blinking lights on his Neural Spike Mk II prototype: he'd never had a chance to get it to the Akanese after the failure of his initial operation in Firestorm. He wrapped it in self-adhesive samoflange foam that surrounded and sealed the last remaining Neural Spike. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/12205#150507
The only known prototype Neutron IV, the NTK-11, got the same treatment, and sat next to the Spike Mk II in his packing crate. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/12702
DNA vials for the Miharu and Joyce clones. He found them useful and delicious... a wonderful combination of cook and cow.
Looking at a squat, green-tinged box with bars, he hesitated.
Dr. Lecter had, more than anything in his long, long existence... hated being in that cage. But it was unique and a part of his personal history, his traveling prison after his capture during the operation leading to the death of Lesgul Velaio. Lecter pulled the xi-rite bolts from the sides and collapsed the prisoner transport cell for storage. It took up almost all the remaining space in the massive storage crate. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/12874 http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/12909 http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/13268
A set of degrees from his brief stint as a UIT, as he worked himself into the Itani military. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/15454
A matched set of gleaming new Corvus blasters filled the final space: the first of the Widowmaker line, already discontinued. He used the anti-grav cart to load the sealed crate into his Warthog Mk II's cargo bay. It settled next to a draped Itani-hyde leather chair, well worn from literally centuries of use.
"And I believe that's that," he mused. He still owed the commander of [GRU] a painful death, but 5,000,000 credits in the right hands would see to it.
Dr. Lecter had pyrated, kidnapped, slaughtered, ravaged, ransomed, stolen and extorted hundreds of millions of credits, been cursed, feared, hated and/or loathed across the galaxy, shot down [SKV] operatives and captured stolen research prototypes, decimated one of the leading families of Itan, run operatives in Akan's First Squadron, The Guild of Free Traders, The Vipers, [IA]/[IDF]/[ITAN], [IGPK] and a few others, raced around the galaxy (and killed others who tried), hunted three guilds to extinction, butchered Itani through a dozen systems, been part of the Hive and met the Void in the Helios sun, taught the UIT to fear their borders and to pay for safe passage in their own capitols, much more that was properly classed as ancient history... and now he was done.
---------------------------------------------
He dispatched 10,000,000 more credits to the pilot who had spent almost two millennia pretending to be the long lost "Itani", Markus Vim... and a message. It said simply:
Your obligation is fulfilled. Now, you may be yourself again. I hope you can remember who that is. Thank you. -MV
P.S. Nice job with SCAR! I know you'll make good use of the extra credits. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/14981
He had to return, ironically, to where he'd begun... in a manner of speaking. And with the same goal as an age ago. But first, he wanted to enjoy himself... Dr. Lecter headed to Latos.
---------------------------------------------
shhhhssshh...Moving power regulators from Azek M-4 to Sedina D-14...over, flashed over general comm channels. Lecter grinned to himself. This was going to be a good last flight.
He encountered the first Centaur in the two-man convoy on the Azek side of the Latos wormhole. A positron exam revealed no cargo. He settled in the unmonitored space of Latos H-2 and waited.
Finally, the prey came. And just like so many before them, they learned the expensive way that pyrats are best paid. Curses filled the sector channels before the life-pod whisked its newly exploded pilot away. Lecter scooped up some free credits and used them to repair his ship: he'd already transferred the last hundred million credits off to someone else.
The next ship in the convoy made a try. A new pilot who claimed to have a devious plan for dealing with pyrats, silent~wave, was Lecter's final victim. As the UIT taunted Lecter over general comm, vowing revenge, the Doctor smiled.
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about next time, youngin'... I think your space will soon be a good deal safer. I have to go see some old friends."
Silent~wave gave a confused reply; Lecter thumbed off all channels.
---------------------------------------------
He warped out, collected the Warthog, and headed for Pelatus.
Weeks later, Lecter drew the ship up to a halt at the brink of the wormhole. He did not hesitate or reminisce: he engaged the warp control as on a trade run in Sol II, any number of countless years ago.
The event horizon closed over the stern of the Warthog, and Dr. Lecter vanished into Akanese space.
Eight Weeks Flight Beyond Pelatus P1
His one thousand, seven hundred and seventy-year long run had come to an end. Dr. Lecter sat in the massive great-room of his Sol II, Pacifica province home. All that remained in the house was a Warthog Mk II on the flight deck; some items he was packing into a crate; and a picture of a long lost man, cut from a history book circa 2661, resting in the cold ashes of the hearth.
Lecter's flowing handwriting across the man's chest, spleen to right clavicle: Ta-ta, 'Dr. L.'
Like most of the incredibly wealthy, Dr. Lecter had many amusing and expensive items scattered around the universe: he had already liquidated them all. Like most of the human race, he also had a few things of special, sentimental value: Lecter was crating them up now.
His Lieutenant's Bars, the first issued by [SCAR]. He could recall where in the roid in Rhamus he was when A-dawg first contacted him, asking him to please sign on as a plankowner. He had last recalled that moment when he'd heard that the same man had sold him out. A-dawg never did reappear: a pity, as Lecter would have enjoyed flaying him alive. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/13295 http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/15001 "Fucking hypocrite," he growled to himself. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/11961
LeberMac's femur... he'd ripped it from one of the many corpses the inept [IA] pilot had left floating in the Void, and carved his message on Broma-ba-Slick's desk with it. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/10576
A piece of the scarred hull plating from the Rune Valkyrie that had encountered the first Hive Queen to go rogue, way back when. The ship in which he had first entered the Void.
The ID transponder of a pilot named 'Arolte', and holo-shots of the memorial service for several [BLAK] members believed (wrongly) to have been killed by said pilot. Dr. Lecter had retrieved the transponder from the same place most all pilots kept theirs: the center of the brain stem. He'd been less than delicate, having used a hatchet. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/11224 http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/11229
A small leviathan, carved from pure samoflange. Despite the figurine's tiny size, no being other than a Serco could have moved it. He'd had it made from the wreckage of the galaxy's first known leviathan.
Several tapes, stacked neatly in the crate. First, one of his experimental procedure involving samoflange and Joyce Sanders's skull. The experiment had been a stunning success, preventing the effects of the spike from influencing Sanders; the other side effects were intriguing as well. The horrid screams of his patient, necessarily conscious and unanesthetized for the procedure, were well worth the results of the experiment. [link, anyone?]
Next a communications transcript tape. It confirmed that MonkofAkan had paid 40,000,000 credits for the release of a stasis pod containing Joyce Sanders, rightfully salvaged by Dr. Lecter... and also provided the proof of a contract between Miharu and Dr. Lecter for a favor, to be defined by Lecter.
The next to last tape in the stack was actually double-sided: Miharu had provided a good deal of footage. From her initial entry into the Pacifica mansion until her bloody exit in the observation tower, her stay and her fulfillment of her obligations were all etched in the crystal. [again, link, anyone?]
The most recent tape contained the torture and eventual murder of Vionka Velaio at the hands of a clone of her son. Dr. Lecter had snatched her from under the nose of an Itani station's security and devised the ideal death for her. Not that he'd had anything against Vionka personally. But Dr. Lecter hoped that Mogul had been watching on. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/15230?page=3 http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/15713
A bottle of tequila and the DNA of a now utterly extinct blue agave cactus went in next. LeberMac would kill for that vial.
The small, oblong box that housed the remains of Tonie Velaio. He had been a hard catch, as Dr. Lecter raced against half a dozen others, scouring Serco space using clues broadcast by the wayward child. He'd found the brat first, and send him onto the abattoir. Thus began the feud between himself and the house of Velaio. The coffin was so small as to fit neatly into one side of the crate. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/11658
Blinking lights on his Neural Spike Mk II prototype: he'd never had a chance to get it to the Akanese after the failure of his initial operation in Firestorm. He wrapped it in self-adhesive samoflange foam that surrounded and sealed the last remaining Neural Spike. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/12205#150507
The only known prototype Neutron IV, the NTK-11, got the same treatment, and sat next to the Spike Mk II in his packing crate. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/12702
DNA vials for the Miharu and Joyce clones. He found them useful and delicious... a wonderful combination of cook and cow.
Looking at a squat, green-tinged box with bars, he hesitated.
Dr. Lecter had, more than anything in his long, long existence... hated being in that cage. But it was unique and a part of his personal history, his traveling prison after his capture during the operation leading to the death of Lesgul Velaio. Lecter pulled the xi-rite bolts from the sides and collapsed the prisoner transport cell for storage. It took up almost all the remaining space in the massive storage crate. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/12874 http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/12909 http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/13268
A set of degrees from his brief stint as a UIT, as he worked himself into the Itani military. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/15454
A matched set of gleaming new Corvus blasters filled the final space: the first of the Widowmaker line, already discontinued. He used the anti-grav cart to load the sealed crate into his Warthog Mk II's cargo bay. It settled next to a draped Itani-hyde leather chair, well worn from literally centuries of use.
"And I believe that's that," he mused. He still owed the commander of [GRU] a painful death, but 5,000,000 credits in the right hands would see to it.
Dr. Lecter had pyrated, kidnapped, slaughtered, ravaged, ransomed, stolen and extorted hundreds of millions of credits, been cursed, feared, hated and/or loathed across the galaxy, shot down [SKV] operatives and captured stolen research prototypes, decimated one of the leading families of Itan, run operatives in Akan's First Squadron, The Guild of Free Traders, The Vipers, [IA]/[IDF]/[ITAN], [IGPK] and a few others, raced around the galaxy (and killed others who tried), hunted three guilds to extinction, butchered Itani through a dozen systems, been part of the Hive and met the Void in the Helios sun, taught the UIT to fear their borders and to pay for safe passage in their own capitols, much more that was properly classed as ancient history... and now he was done.
---------------------------------------------
He dispatched 10,000,000 more credits to the pilot who had spent almost two millennia pretending to be the long lost "Itani", Markus Vim... and a message. It said simply:
Your obligation is fulfilled. Now, you may be yourself again. I hope you can remember who that is. Thank you. -MV
P.S. Nice job with SCAR! I know you'll make good use of the extra credits. http://www.vendetta-online.com/x/msgboard/7/14981
He had to return, ironically, to where he'd begun... in a manner of speaking. And with the same goal as an age ago. But first, he wanted to enjoy himself... Dr. Lecter headed to Latos.
---------------------------------------------
shhhhssshh...Moving power regulators from Azek M-4 to Sedina D-14...over, flashed over general comm channels. Lecter grinned to himself. This was going to be a good last flight.
He encountered the first Centaur in the two-man convoy on the Azek side of the Latos wormhole. A positron exam revealed no cargo. He settled in the unmonitored space of Latos H-2 and waited.
Finally, the prey came. And just like so many before them, they learned the expensive way that pyrats are best paid. Curses filled the sector channels before the life-pod whisked its newly exploded pilot away. Lecter scooped up some free credits and used them to repair his ship: he'd already transferred the last hundred million credits off to someone else.
The next ship in the convoy made a try. A new pilot who claimed to have a devious plan for dealing with pyrats, silent~wave, was Lecter's final victim. As the UIT taunted Lecter over general comm, vowing revenge, the Doctor smiled.
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about next time, youngin'... I think your space will soon be a good deal safer. I have to go see some old friends."
Silent~wave gave a confused reply; Lecter thumbed off all channels.
---------------------------------------------
He warped out, collected the Warthog, and headed for Pelatus.
Weeks later, Lecter drew the ship up to a halt at the brink of the wormhole. He did not hesitate or reminisce: he engaged the warp control as on a trade run in Sol II, any number of countless years ago.
The event horizon closed over the stern of the Warthog, and Dr. Lecter vanished into Akanese space.
LeberMac was roused from a deep alcoholic sleep by yet more pounding on his door. Why couldn't they just talk to him during Normal hours? He looked at his watch. It was 2 PM. Oh.
"Christ, can't these n00bs READ? The sign, Read the SIGN..." He stomped loudly over to his office door and swung it open forcefully and pointed to the sign made from yarn, marker and a carefully-peeled-off tequila bottle label. The sign read. "Busy. Piss Off."
Iry looked at him curiously. "Oh, I thought that sign was a joke."
Unsurprised at his commander's appearance, LeberMac remarked, "Apparently, it is. Come on in, commander." He left the door open as he retreated back inside his office and cleared the bottles off of the small chair where Iry could sit. He laid back down on the couch, closed his eyes and willed his headache to go away. "Mrrrrf... Whaddya want?"
"Just got this over the securenet, looks like Lecter's headed for greener pastures." Iry threw the datapad, LeberMac made no attempt to catch it, and it hit him right in the temple with its corner.
"Shit! Ow. Hey, thanks for the help with the headache. I've heard that stabbing intense pain is better than dull throbbing pain, anyway." LeberMac reached for his tequila bottle, uncorked it, and took a swig. "It say where Lecter went?" Not that LeberMac really cared about Lecter, but Lecter did have something very important. He fumbled around on the floor for the datapad, picked it up, and quickly reviewed the contents.
"Says he's vanished. As in, no transponder traces within the galactic plane. If he's still alive, he's not anywhere near us. Looks like he's gone for good this time." Iry reported to his hung-over subordinate.
"Hm. Well thanks, Iry, but for future reference..."
"Yes?" Iry asked.
"Read the goddamned sign."
Done with the conversation, LeberMac rolled over and went back to sleep. Iry, showing the excellent interpersonal skills that had made him commander, decided to let Leebs sleep it off, and exited the office, closing the door gently.
LeberMac slept fitfully, the unconscious part of his mind doing mental calculations on his remaining tequila stores, and how long they would last without the blue agave DNA to restore the synthetic reserves in the drink fabricator. He'd need to eventually get ahold of that... somehow. Deep in his subconscious, he dreamed about the agave.
"Christ, can't these n00bs READ? The sign, Read the SIGN..." He stomped loudly over to his office door and swung it open forcefully and pointed to the sign made from yarn, marker and a carefully-peeled-off tequila bottle label. The sign read. "Busy. Piss Off."
Iry looked at him curiously. "Oh, I thought that sign was a joke."
Unsurprised at his commander's appearance, LeberMac remarked, "Apparently, it is. Come on in, commander." He left the door open as he retreated back inside his office and cleared the bottles off of the small chair where Iry could sit. He laid back down on the couch, closed his eyes and willed his headache to go away. "Mrrrrf... Whaddya want?"
"Just got this over the securenet, looks like Lecter's headed for greener pastures." Iry threw the datapad, LeberMac made no attempt to catch it, and it hit him right in the temple with its corner.
"Shit! Ow. Hey, thanks for the help with the headache. I've heard that stabbing intense pain is better than dull throbbing pain, anyway." LeberMac reached for his tequila bottle, uncorked it, and took a swig. "It say where Lecter went?" Not that LeberMac really cared about Lecter, but Lecter did have something very important. He fumbled around on the floor for the datapad, picked it up, and quickly reviewed the contents.
"Says he's vanished. As in, no transponder traces within the galactic plane. If he's still alive, he's not anywhere near us. Looks like he's gone for good this time." Iry reported to his hung-over subordinate.
"Hm. Well thanks, Iry, but for future reference..."
"Yes?" Iry asked.
"Read the goddamned sign."
Done with the conversation, LeberMac rolled over and went back to sleep. Iry, showing the excellent interpersonal skills that had made him commander, decided to let Leebs sleep it off, and exited the office, closing the door gently.
LeberMac slept fitfully, the unconscious part of his mind doing mental calculations on his remaining tequila stores, and how long they would last without the blue agave DNA to restore the synthetic reserves in the drink fabricator. He'd need to eventually get ahold of that... somehow. Deep in his subconscious, he dreamed about the agave.
"Soon," he thought. "The way will be made ready soon."
[OOC]Yay for the return of FiOS; after Sept. 15, I'll be able to waste out of office hours blasting stuff in VO again.[/OCC]
[OOC]Yay for the return of FiOS; after Sept. 15, I'll be able to waste out of office hours blasting stuff in VO again.[/OCC]
cool
When I saw this on the forums, I though "who dug that up?" When I realized it was you, Lecter, I immediately went "Oh God."
Your return will complicate matters, Doc. But thats not necessarily a bad thing. -_o
-CNH
Your return will complicate matters, Doc. But thats not necessarily a bad thing. -_o
-CNH
Yay for being able to shoot Lectern00b again!
I forgot about this thread, 'tis a good read.
I forgot about this thread, 'tis a good read.
For a couple of years now the trail had gone dead and the Master plan, having failed to bring forth a true Akanese strike force, was laying dormant. Yet, once in awhile, the dormant sleeper spy process would churn up vague information.
This time, however, Gyp Nage was not amused at the incoming reports. Clearly, that old process required a good cleansing of it's database.
At least the second phase of the plan was working out well. According to the Strategic Political Committee, at the very least. She was growing up to be quite a spectacle.
Perhaps it was time to try her out in the field.
"Hrm. Maybe I should enquiry the old contacts first and see if we have safe ports, again" he mumbled to himself.
Clearing his voice, regaining his composure, he punched up a network address and waited for the com channel to hit it's target.
A rough voice answered...
"Yearh? You? Aghast! You haven't paid me in full for the return of the mother!"
Gyp Nage kept his tone neutral... in character...
"my friend, time might have come to settle the score... credits are heading your way. but first, i need a little something from you.
—No effin way! You still owe me a whole Tung Aggresso!
—i care little for chump change. you'll get your puny ship. here's what i need from you..."
Gyp Nage's most successful infiltration persona explained a few objectives. Objectives that would take him down to a well know beverage establishment... with a small, insignificant package stuck onto a tape...
Maybe, just maybe, it was time...
[ooc] while we're polluting this, i must agree, it was one of the better collective piece[/ooc]
This time, however, Gyp Nage was not amused at the incoming reports. Clearly, that old process required a good cleansing of it's database.
At least the second phase of the plan was working out well. According to the Strategic Political Committee, at the very least. She was growing up to be quite a spectacle.
Perhaps it was time to try her out in the field.
"Hrm. Maybe I should enquiry the old contacts first and see if we have safe ports, again" he mumbled to himself.
Clearing his voice, regaining his composure, he punched up a network address and waited for the com channel to hit it's target.
A rough voice answered...
"Yearh? You? Aghast! You haven't paid me in full for the return of the mother!"
Gyp Nage kept his tone neutral... in character...
"my friend, time might have come to settle the score... credits are heading your way. but first, i need a little something from you.
—No effin way! You still owe me a whole Tung Aggresso!
—i care little for chump change. you'll get your puny ship. here's what i need from you..."
Gyp Nage's most successful infiltration persona explained a few objectives. Objectives that would take him down to a well know beverage establishment... with a small, insignificant package stuck onto a tape...
Maybe, just maybe, it was time...
[ooc] while we're polluting this, i must agree, it was one of the better collective piece[/ooc]
[OOC] Ooo, RP. This might really make me play again.
** RISE, Thread! ***
Best RP thread EVAR.
Best RP thread EVAR.