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The data was like fluid, flowing around him, through him, in him. He moved through it with nothing but a mental command, while the bits flowed easily through his consciousness. Out of the data stream, he picked up a letter from a wife to a husband on the front lines of Geira, scanned it, then sent it on its way again. Catch and release.
Waiting for his body to be reconstituted was taking longer. Or was it? He couldn't be sure, time was hard to judge in this holding time between life and death. Not that he minded, The Lady had given him this power and he enjoyed his holdover.
He dipped his hand into the stream and randomly pulled out a group of outbound messages from Geira Watch, some consumer information, and a grouping of ads. A specific advertisement caught his eye as he floated, relaxed in the bubbling ocean of data. He snatched it out of the data queue and read, "baptism for blue miniature monkey and it's caretaker. GLS prized item. Contact this transponder ID for details". Hrm. He paged through the other messages and found some interesting requisitions from Geira as well, for further reading during the downtimes in space.
He kept the ad submission out of the queue, ensuring that he'd be the only one to view it. Something nagged at him, telling him that he was most likely the intended recipient, anyway. Just as he tucked the missive away in his mental archives, he felt the cold hand of reality yank him out of his digital reverie and back to cold reality.
"Welcome Back My Son." The Lady Serco said.
"Yes. Hello again, m'Lady." Lexicon replied, minus his usual enthusiasm.
"Are you prepared for your mission?" She queried, with that sweet inquisitive tone that never varied, never a single inflection. "I require you to bring more souls to me."
"Indeed, I am prepared, and I shall do your bidding, as always..." He said, but without the certainty.
"Very well, go forth and bring my name to those who have wandered off of the path..."She said as he rose, mechanically putting on his flightsuit, boarding the SVG, and headed out into the inky blackness on his Holy mission.
This time, before he'd warped to Deneb, he checked the data bits that he'd been able to bring with him. The requisition order from Geira was perhaps more disturbing to him, but the specific advertisement looked more interesting. "Blue Mini Monkey, Indeed." He punched into the ID number and waited for an answer on the other end.
"Yes". The voice said.
"I hear you have a unique baptismal need." Lexicon said smoothly into the comm.
"That was fast, I just posted it, it's not even in the net yet!" the voice on the other end said, slightly panicked.
Lexicon spoke softly, "Indeed. Nor will it be. I came across your submission by chance and chose to intercept it. It seems meant for me - was this your intention?"
There was a short pause, a gulp, and the man on the other end continued, "Yeah... well... we need to have a sit-down. This... information has gotta be valuable, especially to you."
"Of course. Where shall we meet? I enjoy bringing special itani into The Fold." Lexicon said confidently.
"Riiight... OK, meet me in Dau, sector A-2, it's out of the way, where no one can interrupt us." The mysterious advertiser said.
"Very well, I shall be there in due course." Lexicon said, cut the mic, and made his way through Serco space to his rendezvous. Perhaps this "special itani" the UIT dockworker spoke of would be of assistance in his new quest to find out more about The Lady.
Waiting for his body to be reconstituted was taking longer. Or was it? He couldn't be sure, time was hard to judge in this holding time between life and death. Not that he minded, The Lady had given him this power and he enjoyed his holdover.
He dipped his hand into the stream and randomly pulled out a group of outbound messages from Geira Watch, some consumer information, and a grouping of ads. A specific advertisement caught his eye as he floated, relaxed in the bubbling ocean of data. He snatched it out of the data queue and read, "baptism for blue miniature monkey and it's caretaker. GLS prized item. Contact this transponder ID for details". Hrm. He paged through the other messages and found some interesting requisitions from Geira as well, for further reading during the downtimes in space.
He kept the ad submission out of the queue, ensuring that he'd be the only one to view it. Something nagged at him, telling him that he was most likely the intended recipient, anyway. Just as he tucked the missive away in his mental archives, he felt the cold hand of reality yank him out of his digital reverie and back to cold reality.
"Welcome Back My Son." The Lady Serco said.
"Yes. Hello again, m'Lady." Lexicon replied, minus his usual enthusiasm.
"Are you prepared for your mission?" She queried, with that sweet inquisitive tone that never varied, never a single inflection. "I require you to bring more souls to me."
"Indeed, I am prepared, and I shall do your bidding, as always..." He said, but without the certainty.
"Very well, go forth and bring my name to those who have wandered off of the path..."She said as he rose, mechanically putting on his flightsuit, boarding the SVG, and headed out into the inky blackness on his Holy mission.
This time, before he'd warped to Deneb, he checked the data bits that he'd been able to bring with him. The requisition order from Geira was perhaps more disturbing to him, but the specific advertisement looked more interesting. "Blue Mini Monkey, Indeed." He punched into the ID number and waited for an answer on the other end.
"Yes". The voice said.
"I hear you have a unique baptismal need." Lexicon said smoothly into the comm.
"That was fast, I just posted it, it's not even in the net yet!" the voice on the other end said, slightly panicked.
Lexicon spoke softly, "Indeed. Nor will it be. I came across your submission by chance and chose to intercept it. It seems meant for me - was this your intention?"
There was a short pause, a gulp, and the man on the other end continued, "Yeah... well... we need to have a sit-down. This... information has gotta be valuable, especially to you."
"Of course. Where shall we meet? I enjoy bringing special itani into The Fold." Lexicon said confidently.
"Riiight... OK, meet me in Dau, sector A-2, it's out of the way, where no one can interrupt us." The mysterious advertiser said.
"Very well, I shall be there in due course." Lexicon said, cut the mic, and made his way through Serco space to his rendezvous. Perhaps this "special itani" the UIT dockworker spoke of would be of assistance in his new quest to find out more about The Lady.
Ecka drains his glass . Another bottle of wine gentlemen ?
<ooc> co-authored </ooc>
"No, it's not my fault I... er... I have obligations that would kept me from going for the scheduled exchange. I... er... I need to be discrete... for both our sakes... this... yeah: this is BIG stuff... said the deck handler.
- The Great Lady understands that. You've mentioned it before. But we can not wait forever on this, replied Lexicon.
- We... we need to set on a price agreement too... we... I mean, I want 5 millions. In advance! hastily added the deck handler.
- We all get what we deserve, The Great Lady rewards us all in her own way.
- So... here's the plan... we meet in a free, quiet, coordinate and I drop the package. You transfer money and I clear the package. When I jump out, I transmit unlock code for the datapad.
- Ah - just as it is foretold in the scripture! "And the heavens spoke to the Lady Serco, and behold, their secrets became known to her!" -Book of Serco 25:11.
- We want untraceable credits too.
- We? Are you suddenly now more than one?
- Er... I mean we... you and I... we dont want anyone tracing this back to us do we?
- I fear no reprisal now does the Great Lady. But it shall be done."
And the line cut.
"Way to go knuckle-head. You almost gave me away, said the chief deck handler.
- Dont worry. It's all covered. He didn't see nothing! said the deck handler.
- I'm not so certain of that. And what the hell happend to the 2m price tag? He'll never pay 5! Are you crazy?
- Hey, he knows this is important stuff. he totally trusts me. And... well, I let it go to my head and 5m is what came out. But you saw! He's gonna pay!
- Hrm. How can we be sure? For all I know, he could blast you out in space and never pay you.
- That he won't. Because he wants the datapad. Badly.
- I'm sure he could dig it out of your scrap metal.
- You're always so melodramatic, chief".
And with that, the two men started making plans into borrowing a government bus and seeking advices on cryptology to lock the datapad information.
The chief had a good idea of where to find someone who could help. It was a school technician who owed him a favor or two... he would surely do the job. Better than anyone else the chief deck handler knew.
Although, he secretly admitted to himself a school teacher might not be the best encryption expert around...
"No, it's not my fault I... er... I have obligations that would kept me from going for the scheduled exchange. I... er... I need to be discrete... for both our sakes... this... yeah: this is BIG stuff... said the deck handler.
- The Great Lady understands that. You've mentioned it before. But we can not wait forever on this, replied Lexicon.
- We... we need to set on a price agreement too... we... I mean, I want 5 millions. In advance! hastily added the deck handler.
- We all get what we deserve, The Great Lady rewards us all in her own way.
- So... here's the plan... we meet in a free, quiet, coordinate and I drop the package. You transfer money and I clear the package. When I jump out, I transmit unlock code for the datapad.
- Ah - just as it is foretold in the scripture! "And the heavens spoke to the Lady Serco, and behold, their secrets became known to her!" -Book of Serco 25:11.
- We want untraceable credits too.
- We? Are you suddenly now more than one?
- Er... I mean we... you and I... we dont want anyone tracing this back to us do we?
- I fear no reprisal now does the Great Lady. But it shall be done."
And the line cut.
"Way to go knuckle-head. You almost gave me away, said the chief deck handler.
- Dont worry. It's all covered. He didn't see nothing! said the deck handler.
- I'm not so certain of that. And what the hell happend to the 2m price tag? He'll never pay 5! Are you crazy?
- Hey, he knows this is important stuff. he totally trusts me. And... well, I let it go to my head and 5m is what came out. But you saw! He's gonna pay!
- Hrm. How can we be sure? For all I know, he could blast you out in space and never pay you.
- That he won't. Because he wants the datapad. Badly.
- I'm sure he could dig it out of your scrap metal.
- You're always so melodramatic, chief".
And with that, the two men started making plans into borrowing a government bus and seeking advices on cryptology to lock the datapad information.
The chief had a good idea of where to find someone who could help. It was a school technician who owed him a favor or two... he would surely do the job. Better than anyone else the chief deck handler knew.
Although, he secretly admitted to himself a school teacher might not be the best encryption expert around...
"Chief? A package for you! said the station courrier.
- Who from?
- I dont know sir. It was left on the courrier desk. Internal distribution."
The courrier was given a tip, as per the etiquette, thanked and waved good-bye. The chief deck handler had a habit of receiving gifts of all kind. Most of the times, as a sort of bribe to overlook some station regulations. But a boxed package was not very common. To his delight, it was a crate of Deneb rum!
Whoever it was, he certainly knew his taste. A note on the bottle read:
With thanks for a job well done on the deck repairs, regards, station intendent.
The chief deck handler was indeed very surprised. And a lucky man, to get the attention of the station intendant. He was not known for his kindness nor his looking after the well-being of his crew.
"And I drink to that!" said the chief deck handler, as he opened the bottle.
On a lower level, his deck handler assumed his chief was covering for him, as usual. While the teacher encrypted and locked a new, unassigned datapad, the deck handler was prepping the paperwork to borrow a government bus.
"There. I think if anyone ever unlocks this, he's either an expert or he wants something bad. I think that for a domestic use, this is well protected. May I ask what you keep on that thing? asked the teacher.
- Personal finance, pictures, security deposit box IDs... you know... regular stuff. But my apartment was broken into recently and... I dont want to take any chance anymore." lied the deck handler.
"I have a couple of stops to make in Nyrius before I get back. Can I pay you then? asked the deck handler.
- Yeah... OK. Catch me at the end of classes sometime this week."
The deck handler closed the hatch and pre-plotted his course. As he was waiting for his launch clearance, he tried to reach his chief. No answer.
"Never there when you need him, the chief..." he thought.
His EC-89 departed in silence in the vacuum of space. From the chief office, one could see every ship come in and out of the station. Had the chief looked outside, he would have seen his accomplice's bus warp out of the sector, in a blue flash.
The chief was busy indeed. Busy, desperately gasping for a last breath as he struggled on the floor, both hands on his throat, unable to finish his glass of Deneb rum. The bottle, tipped on it's side on the floor, was emptying it's content on the plasteel surface, dissolving it into a blue smoke.
In the chief's window, ships came and went as usual. All kinds of local ships. Some more exotic, like a Valkyrie.
<ooc> Next chapter in-game </ooc>
- Who from?
- I dont know sir. It was left on the courrier desk. Internal distribution."
The courrier was given a tip, as per the etiquette, thanked and waved good-bye. The chief deck handler had a habit of receiving gifts of all kind. Most of the times, as a sort of bribe to overlook some station regulations. But a boxed package was not very common. To his delight, it was a crate of Deneb rum!
Whoever it was, he certainly knew his taste. A note on the bottle read:
With thanks for a job well done on the deck repairs, regards, station intendent.
The chief deck handler was indeed very surprised. And a lucky man, to get the attention of the station intendant. He was not known for his kindness nor his looking after the well-being of his crew.
"And I drink to that!" said the chief deck handler, as he opened the bottle.
On a lower level, his deck handler assumed his chief was covering for him, as usual. While the teacher encrypted and locked a new, unassigned datapad, the deck handler was prepping the paperwork to borrow a government bus.
"There. I think if anyone ever unlocks this, he's either an expert or he wants something bad. I think that for a domestic use, this is well protected. May I ask what you keep on that thing? asked the teacher.
- Personal finance, pictures, security deposit box IDs... you know... regular stuff. But my apartment was broken into recently and... I dont want to take any chance anymore." lied the deck handler.
"I have a couple of stops to make in Nyrius before I get back. Can I pay you then? asked the deck handler.
- Yeah... OK. Catch me at the end of classes sometime this week."
The deck handler closed the hatch and pre-plotted his course. As he was waiting for his launch clearance, he tried to reach his chief. No answer.
"Never there when you need him, the chief..." he thought.
His EC-89 departed in silence in the vacuum of space. From the chief office, one could see every ship come in and out of the station. Had the chief looked outside, he would have seen his accomplice's bus warp out of the sector, in a blue flash.
The chief was busy indeed. Busy, desperately gasping for a last breath as he struggled on the floor, both hands on his throat, unable to finish his glass of Deneb rum. The bottle, tipped on it's side on the floor, was emptying it's content on the plasteel surface, dissolving it into a blue smoke.
In the chief's window, ships came and went as usual. All kinds of local ships. Some more exotic, like a Valkyrie.
<ooc> Next chapter in-game </ooc>
<ooc> Continued from above & in-game </ooc>
"Wh... where am I? asked the shaken deck handler.
- You are back in Dau, mister, said an escape pod technician. Your ship has suffered a catastrophic failure. An investigation is under way.
- Why am I hurting so bad?
- It's your first recovery sir? It's always that bad. Most pilots get used to it. But you're no pilot are you?
- I... I must go now... quickly... I've been had! They're going to kill me now!
- you're not going anywhere" said a third person.
Someone approached the deck handler and extended to him a visit card. In the holographic print were marshal insignias and the notion Internal investigation Bureau
Another man approached the deck handler, helped him up on his feet and took him away along with the investigator.
The three men left the salvage facility and made their way to the launch deck. There, a number of ships were docked. Passing between the Revenants, the Vultures, a couple of Tunguska Aggresso and a lone Valkyrie, the deck handler was forced into the chief's office.
There, a dead body laid on the floor.
"CHIEF!" yelled the deck handler as is rushed down on his knee to examine the huge gash in the chief's dissolved throat and the corroded plasteel floor under it.
"What?! What happend??" enquired the deck handler. Waiting for a response that was not coming, he turned his head and stopped when a gun barrel got snugged between his eyes.
"I... I thought... aren't you the the marshall office? he asked. I didn't do nothing! My ship was attacked! Someone called Lexicon!" he added in a panic.
His only answer was one he didn't hear. His vaporized brains hadn't had time to process the gun's discharge.
A fake suicide note was placed on the chief's desk, along with other incriminating items like faked receipts for corrosive chemicals and Deneb rum.
To an outsider, the deck handler would have certainly killed the chief and then took his own life.
From the chief's office window, two ships launched and parted. A Tunguska Aggresso made it's way towards grey space, while a Valkyrie went opposite direction.
"I'll try to recuperate the package and let you know. Meanwhile, I trust you will go relocate them?" a pilot asked.
"yeah" replied the fake investigator.
"Wh... where am I? asked the shaken deck handler.
- You are back in Dau, mister, said an escape pod technician. Your ship has suffered a catastrophic failure. An investigation is under way.
- Why am I hurting so bad?
- It's your first recovery sir? It's always that bad. Most pilots get used to it. But you're no pilot are you?
- I... I must go now... quickly... I've been had! They're going to kill me now!
- you're not going anywhere" said a third person.
Someone approached the deck handler and extended to him a visit card. In the holographic print were marshal insignias and the notion Internal investigation Bureau
Another man approached the deck handler, helped him up on his feet and took him away along with the investigator.
The three men left the salvage facility and made their way to the launch deck. There, a number of ships were docked. Passing between the Revenants, the Vultures, a couple of Tunguska Aggresso and a lone Valkyrie, the deck handler was forced into the chief's office.
There, a dead body laid on the floor.
"CHIEF!" yelled the deck handler as is rushed down on his knee to examine the huge gash in the chief's dissolved throat and the corroded plasteel floor under it.
"What?! What happend??" enquired the deck handler. Waiting for a response that was not coming, he turned his head and stopped when a gun barrel got snugged between his eyes.
"I... I thought... aren't you the the marshall office? he asked. I didn't do nothing! My ship was attacked! Someone called Lexicon!" he added in a panic.
His only answer was one he didn't hear. His vaporized brains hadn't had time to process the gun's discharge.
A fake suicide note was placed on the chief's desk, along with other incriminating items like faked receipts for corrosive chemicals and Deneb rum.
To an outsider, the deck handler would have certainly killed the chief and then took his own life.
From the chief's office window, two ships launched and parted. A Tunguska Aggresso made it's way towards grey space, while a Valkyrie went opposite direction.
"I'll try to recuperate the package and let you know. Meanwhile, I trust you will go relocate them?" a pilot asked.
"yeah" replied the fake investigator.
The hallways were secured. The urgency omnipresent.
"NOOO! I Don't want to leave AGAIN! shouted Camillia
- We don't have a choice honey. We must leave. Mean men have found us.
- I DONT CARE! I won't leave!
- you must do what your mother says camillia. it's important.
- I don't care uncle! I WONT GO!"
A child was throwing a tantrum. A flight deck was in chaos.
"Sir, we have report the package is still not recovered. I'd like to suggest an alternate location in case our current destination might be known, said a personal guard.
- any ideas?
- Yes sir. Wolves don't hunt near the den.
- make it so."
An apartment was emptied. Traces of recent use, removed.
"Where are we going now? When will this ever end? asked the mother.
- viv, i'd rather not say for now.
- Sir, interrupted the guard, the flight deck is in turmoil. We won't be able to leave in those conditions.
- Camillia! Stop it! It's for our security! implored the mother.
- I WONT LEAVE HERE! screamed the child in distress."
A hyposyringe was discharged. Ships dropped and piled up.
"You butcher! yelled the mother. What in Eo did you do to her!?
- Nothing: she's asleep, said the guard. We couldn't have possibly left the station in those conditions. Now, it'll be easier.
- DON'T EVER DO THAT AGAIN YOU…
- don't." delicately interrupted the operations head.
His hand gently pressed on the mother's shoulder and directed her towards the exit.
The procession headed out. The guard carried the child in his arms as delicately as the goon could. A specially outfitted cargo crate was used as make-shift escape coach and loaded into a Tunguska Aggresso.
The ship launched, followed by a Valkyrie, two centurions, three Vultures and a decoy Behemoth Heavy.
The convoy made it's way deeper in Itani space, leaving a hangar in smoke after a few rockets used to cover up the mess.
"NOOO! I Don't want to leave AGAIN! shouted Camillia
- We don't have a choice honey. We must leave. Mean men have found us.
- I DONT CARE! I won't leave!
- you must do what your mother says camillia. it's important.
- I don't care uncle! I WONT GO!"
A child was throwing a tantrum. A flight deck was in chaos.
"Sir, we have report the package is still not recovered. I'd like to suggest an alternate location in case our current destination might be known, said a personal guard.
- any ideas?
- Yes sir. Wolves don't hunt near the den.
- make it so."
An apartment was emptied. Traces of recent use, removed.
"Where are we going now? When will this ever end? asked the mother.
- viv, i'd rather not say for now.
- Sir, interrupted the guard, the flight deck is in turmoil. We won't be able to leave in those conditions.
- Camillia! Stop it! It's for our security! implored the mother.
- I WONT LEAVE HERE! screamed the child in distress."
A hyposyringe was discharged. Ships dropped and piled up.
"You butcher! yelled the mother. What in Eo did you do to her!?
- Nothing: she's asleep, said the guard. We couldn't have possibly left the station in those conditions. Now, it'll be easier.
- DON'T EVER DO THAT AGAIN YOU…
- don't." delicately interrupted the operations head.
His hand gently pressed on the mother's shoulder and directed her towards the exit.
The procession headed out. The guard carried the child in his arms as delicately as the goon could. A specially outfitted cargo crate was used as make-shift escape coach and loaded into a Tunguska Aggresso.
The ship launched, followed by a Valkyrie, two centurions, three Vultures and a decoy Behemoth Heavy.
The convoy made it's way deeper in Itani space, leaving a hangar in smoke after a few rockets used to cover up the mess.
"You are... Double Omega Seven?" Lexicon said over sector chat.
"Y...Yes... Do you have the 5 million?" the opposing pilot in the yellow EC-89 said.
"Of course," Lexicon lied, "Now, do you have the information about the girl, Camillia? Her... abilities will prove worthy of study."
"Yes, I have it, let me just back up to 150 meters and I'll drop it, then you give me the money, OK?" the Deck Handler said.
"Of course." Lexicon said, smoothly flipping the safety off of his dual gauss trigger. Ironically, 150 meters was very suitable gauss range.
"Alright, I'm about to drop the cargo - s... send me the money!" The Deck Handler choked out, his hands trembling on the ship's throttle from equal parts excitement, anticipation and fear.
Lexicon, having no intention of paying this fool a single credit, said a prayer and sent a long volley of gauss into the unprepared pilot. The Deck Handler's hull buckled under the strain, wires popped, the explosive decompression klaxons blared throughout the shuttlecraft and debris filled the cockpit.
Pinned underneath a fallen canopy with a crushed torso and flesh seared down to blackened bone, the cowed and horrified Deck Handler looked into the vidcomm as he felt the blood leave his broken body in violent gushes, "Wh... Why? D... do you expect m... me to beg?"
"No, Double Omega Seven, " Lexicon replied, "I expect you to die."
He fired the burning blue-white baptismal gauss energy into the remnants of the Deck Handler's ship and watched it explode in a satisfactory fashion, leaving the datapad cargo, some scrap metal and a light battery. He picked up the datapad and realized that the whole scenario had been broadcast over that fool's open comm channel. He soon was set upon by other eavesdroppers on the transaction. They converged onto his position in Dau, hoping to trap him in an area without safe harbor.
Lexicon easily lost his pursuers in Nyrius, dropping a multi-faceted load of cargo as he took a calculated almost-fatal hit from the UIT Aerna Seeker. His warp signature obscured his almost-explosion, and he continued on his way with the stolen datapad.
His pursuers Miharu, Daggoth and Mecha had to stop to investigate the dropped cargo debris, trying to find the datapad in the midst of the floating remnants. Finding nothing but the odd ishik ore or plasteel crates, they cursed Lexicon's name aloud over open channels...
Safely into Ukari already, Lexicon chuckled and continued on his path back to Serco space, but not to his home station in Geira. Funny, turboing through the wormholes and leading a pack of pursuers had felt slightly... familiar... for some reason. Regardless, he had a detour to make in Initros before he could go back to The Lady and active duty.
He docked smoothly and began the decryption routine on the datapad. The data was almost ineptly encrypted with only a level 3 substitution algorithm, as if a grade school teacher had done it. Pathetic.
The routine completed in 2.83 seconds and he had his answer. He outfitted the Hornet with some Neutron III's and turboed to Jallik to "pick up" the child...
"Y...Yes... Do you have the 5 million?" the opposing pilot in the yellow EC-89 said.
"Of course," Lexicon lied, "Now, do you have the information about the girl, Camillia? Her... abilities will prove worthy of study."
"Yes, I have it, let me just back up to 150 meters and I'll drop it, then you give me the money, OK?" the Deck Handler said.
"Of course." Lexicon said, smoothly flipping the safety off of his dual gauss trigger. Ironically, 150 meters was very suitable gauss range.
"Alright, I'm about to drop the cargo - s... send me the money!" The Deck Handler choked out, his hands trembling on the ship's throttle from equal parts excitement, anticipation and fear.
Lexicon, having no intention of paying this fool a single credit, said a prayer and sent a long volley of gauss into the unprepared pilot. The Deck Handler's hull buckled under the strain, wires popped, the explosive decompression klaxons blared throughout the shuttlecraft and debris filled the cockpit.
Pinned underneath a fallen canopy with a crushed torso and flesh seared down to blackened bone, the cowed and horrified Deck Handler looked into the vidcomm as he felt the blood leave his broken body in violent gushes, "Wh... Why? D... do you expect m... me to beg?"
"No, Double Omega Seven, " Lexicon replied, "I expect you to die."
He fired the burning blue-white baptismal gauss energy into the remnants of the Deck Handler's ship and watched it explode in a satisfactory fashion, leaving the datapad cargo, some scrap metal and a light battery. He picked up the datapad and realized that the whole scenario had been broadcast over that fool's open comm channel. He soon was set upon by other eavesdroppers on the transaction. They converged onto his position in Dau, hoping to trap him in an area without safe harbor.
Lexicon easily lost his pursuers in Nyrius, dropping a multi-faceted load of cargo as he took a calculated almost-fatal hit from the UIT Aerna Seeker. His warp signature obscured his almost-explosion, and he continued on his way with the stolen datapad.
His pursuers Miharu, Daggoth and Mecha had to stop to investigate the dropped cargo debris, trying to find the datapad in the midst of the floating remnants. Finding nothing but the odd ishik ore or plasteel crates, they cursed Lexicon's name aloud over open channels...
Safely into Ukari already, Lexicon chuckled and continued on his path back to Serco space, but not to his home station in Geira. Funny, turboing through the wormholes and leading a pack of pursuers had felt slightly... familiar... for some reason. Regardless, he had a detour to make in Initros before he could go back to The Lady and active duty.
He docked smoothly and began the decryption routine on the datapad. The data was almost ineptly encrypted with only a level 3 substitution algorithm, as if a grade school teacher had done it. Pathetic.
The routine completed in 2.83 seconds and he had his answer. He outfitted the Hornet with some Neutron III's and turboed to Jallik to "pick up" the child...
The escape pod was dark. An air recycling system was it's only noise and a red iridescent plate it's only light source.
"Wh... where am I? asked Camillia.
- You were asleep, kid. We are on-route to our new destination. We are hiding you and your mother in the special containers. said the security guard.
- Where's mommy? asked the kid in panic.
- She's in another escape pod. Don't worry: she's doing fine. She can't hear your vox but she can hear mine.
- I WANT MY MOMMY!" screeched Camillia, making the guard's eardrums vibrate to a near-rupture point.
The convoy stopped in a desolate place. The only presence other than the convoy was the void.
"Sir, our scout detects the presence of the Serco pirate guild in Metana. I suggest we split the convoy, said a Vulture pilot.
- split the convoy?
- Yes sir. We'll race ahead with the decoy Behemoth and try to get their attention, clearing the path for you later.
- roger that."
The Behemoth decoy torbo-ed ahead, followed by the two Vulturius.
"What's going one? asked the mother.
- Change of plan, radioed the guard as the child was screaming on the other vox system.
- Why is Camillia screaming? Camillia? Can you hear me? Everything is going to be all right my dear!
- She can't hear you madam. I'm going to do my best to calm her. I might have to crawl down in the cargo area."
Ships changed formation. A lone Valkyrie was closely guarding the precious Tunguska Aggresso.
"Behemoth to Vulture squad, prepare to jump on my mark in 3... 2... 1... mark!
- Vulture one; reporting five red targets. Engaging.
- This is Centurion squad jumping in on my mark... mark!
- Centurion two; Behemoth you have an incoming at 7' clock, low 30. On my way to assist."
This ships danced in the dark as they usually do. Armors were taking a heavy toll, the radio waves filled with tactical.
"Sir, we have to abort and re-route. The decoy is going to bite it! said the Tunguska pilot.
- stay put; i'm jumping in!
- Madam? I'm going to crawl down the cargo area and offer something to drink to the kid. It might calm her down.
- Don't you drug her again!" warned the mother.
A big thug crawled in an area barely adequate for his younger years, hyposyringe in hand. As he unlocked the special crate turned make-shift escape pod, the ship started to roll. The guard could feel the screaming vibrations from the otherwise sound-proof crate as he was tumbling amidst the cargo area. Barely holding on to the crate, he managed to open it and tried to reach for the kid's arm with the hyposyringe.
Camillia in a desperate attempt to escape, closed herself. Her mind was alone. And it was very upset. She wanted to go home and go home is what her mind visualized. The ship started to vibrate and creak, as if torn apart by the vacuum of space.
And then the air inside the cargo bay smelt ionized. The ship shook one last time and then the tumbling stopped.
"What the void..." thought the thug... "We jumped?!".
The kid's screams violently brought him back to reality. The hyposyringed pressed on against the kid's arm and just as it was emptying it's content, Camillia made a desperate attempt to defend herself.
Her rage exploded. Cargo crates unsnapped from their lock pins and came crashing down on the thug, knocking him out solid.
A Valkyrie was back to it's rendez-vous point, along with a beaten up Centurion and a sparking Behemoth. The precious cargo, missing.
A Tunguska Aggresso was far away, floating near a planet. A planet once photographed in the background of a family vacation picture.
A mother was screaming inside her own escape pod, with no one at the cockpit to hear her vox.
"Wh... where am I? asked Camillia.
- You were asleep, kid. We are on-route to our new destination. We are hiding you and your mother in the special containers. said the security guard.
- Where's mommy? asked the kid in panic.
- She's in another escape pod. Don't worry: she's doing fine. She can't hear your vox but she can hear mine.
- I WANT MY MOMMY!" screeched Camillia, making the guard's eardrums vibrate to a near-rupture point.
The convoy stopped in a desolate place. The only presence other than the convoy was the void.
"Sir, our scout detects the presence of the Serco pirate guild in Metana. I suggest we split the convoy, said a Vulture pilot.
- split the convoy?
- Yes sir. We'll race ahead with the decoy Behemoth and try to get their attention, clearing the path for you later.
- roger that."
The Behemoth decoy torbo-ed ahead, followed by the two Vulturius.
"What's going one? asked the mother.
- Change of plan, radioed the guard as the child was screaming on the other vox system.
- Why is Camillia screaming? Camillia? Can you hear me? Everything is going to be all right my dear!
- She can't hear you madam. I'm going to do my best to calm her. I might have to crawl down in the cargo area."
Ships changed formation. A lone Valkyrie was closely guarding the precious Tunguska Aggresso.
"Behemoth to Vulture squad, prepare to jump on my mark in 3... 2... 1... mark!
- Vulture one; reporting five red targets. Engaging.
- This is Centurion squad jumping in on my mark... mark!
- Centurion two; Behemoth you have an incoming at 7' clock, low 30. On my way to assist."
This ships danced in the dark as they usually do. Armors were taking a heavy toll, the radio waves filled with tactical.
"Sir, we have to abort and re-route. The decoy is going to bite it! said the Tunguska pilot.
- stay put; i'm jumping in!
- Madam? I'm going to crawl down the cargo area and offer something to drink to the kid. It might calm her down.
- Don't you drug her again!" warned the mother.
A big thug crawled in an area barely adequate for his younger years, hyposyringe in hand. As he unlocked the special crate turned make-shift escape pod, the ship started to roll. The guard could feel the screaming vibrations from the otherwise sound-proof crate as he was tumbling amidst the cargo area. Barely holding on to the crate, he managed to open it and tried to reach for the kid's arm with the hyposyringe.
Camillia in a desperate attempt to escape, closed herself. Her mind was alone. And it was very upset. She wanted to go home and go home is what her mind visualized. The ship started to vibrate and creak, as if torn apart by the vacuum of space.
And then the air inside the cargo bay smelt ionized. The ship shook one last time and then the tumbling stopped.
"What the void..." thought the thug... "We jumped?!".
The kid's screams violently brought him back to reality. The hyposyringed pressed on against the kid's arm and just as it was emptying it's content, Camillia made a desperate attempt to defend herself.
Her rage exploded. Cargo crates unsnapped from their lock pins and came crashing down on the thug, knocking him out solid.
A Valkyrie was back to it's rendez-vous point, along with a beaten up Centurion and a sparking Behemoth. The precious cargo, missing.
A Tunguska Aggresso was far away, floating near a planet. A planet once photographed in the background of a family vacation picture.
A mother was screaming inside her own escape pod, with no one at the cockpit to hear her vox.
The scarlet red hornet coasted gently into the spacious hold of Jallik Garden, all eyes on it. Impact scars on the bulkheads showed a recent barrage of destruction - several ships had been mangled and piled in the corner as if they were child's toys. Good. She had been here, and recently, too.
It was unusual for a Serco to come to Jallik, but even moreso this one. Barely above the entrance requirements, Lexicon had nevertheless filed the proper paperwork and the newly-hired Dockmaster had reluctantly let him in.
He pulled the hatch and effortlessly bounded from his cockpit to the deck floor, landing heavily with a metal clang that announced the presence of a Serco on-deck. He met the hostile stares of the itani dockworkers with his practiced smile, and moved purposefully towards the docking computer interface.
"Hold on a minute, bub," The new dockmaster said as Lexicon attempted to plug a datapad into the docking computer, "You can't just come in here and..."
Lexicon looked down at the fresh-faced young appointee, and in his best parental voice, said "My son, let's do this the *EASY* way, shall we?" He gently moved the dockmaster away from the panel and inserted the datapad he'd acquired from that Double Omega Seven character.
Unsure of what to do, the dockmaster wavered submissively, as yet unused to his new commanding role on the flightdeck. Lexicon issued complex commands to the computer and the remaining dockworkers looked on, amazed at the passivity of their new boss. He felt the stares of his subordinates; they burned him with shame and anger, and he garnered his courage and tapped the Serco lightly on the shoulder. "Um, sir..."
"All done here." Lexicon said, as he had been quickly able to extract the data relevant to the latest cargo transport that matched with the pad's information. A priority haul signature, it had been paid for by none other than the [ITAN] guild, with someone known as "Dasmar" as the pilot of registry. He unplugged the datapad and faced the dockmaster, looming over him by a good two feet and easily outweighing him by 200 pounds.
"I... I'm afraid you'll have to leave, Sir." the dockmaster stuttered. "We can't allow Serco access to the docking computer."
"Quite right." Lexicon boomed, "Sorry to have bothered you, dockmaster. Fine station you have here." He turned and made a beeline to his Hornet, amidst muttering from the station's docking bay crew and not a few racial insults uttered under their breaths. His augmented hearing picked up all of it; now was not the time to baptize these fools, however much his trigger finger itched.
He entered his Hornet again, sealed the hatch, noticed that none of the workers had even attempted to begin servicing his ship, and made ready for launch. A thunk echoed from the hull of his ship, and he looked up.
The dockworkers were agitated, and beginning to throw items at his ship. A hydrospanner bounced off his canopy. Lexicon smiled at his attackers, swiveled his ship about and boosted out of the docking bay without clearance, scaring a miner in a wraith.
The datapad was not totally conclusive, but clearly indicated that a group of Itani had taken Camillia to the other side of Itani space. The signature from the first forced relocation order matched the current one, which made this a valid lead; Lexicon felt the slightest bit sorry for killing the Deck Handler, after all, his information WAS proving to be correct. On to Deneb, then - they couldn't have a very large head start.
He punched in a navroute that took him around the notorious ion storms in Jallik's Oro asteroid belt, and warped.
His first jump took him to the massive gas giant planet Oro - a monstrosity of a planet whose rings actually spanned three sectors. In the dull orange light given off by Jallik's sun, he spotted movement.
A ship, tumbling near the planet!
Lexicon accelerated smoothly towards it. A Centaur Aggresso, it was flying midnight black colors and seemed to be adrift. When he was sure that there was nobody at the controls, he brought his Hornet alongside and tethered the ships together in a stable orbit, preparing for EVA.
Using some of his decryption routines, he cracked the voiceprint ID for the outer hatch, and entered the medium-sized vessel. After transiting through the entry hatch and making sure there was atmosphere inside the ship, he heard noises coming from the cargo bay. Lexicon removed his helmet and ran down the short hallway, through the access hatch, bursting into the Centaur's rear cargo section.
It was a mess - the pile of crates partially buried the pilot and one secure crate. Another secure crate was rocking back and forth, the obvious source of the screams. A woman, by the sound of it. Perhaps The Lady was with him, after all. The pilot had an old vox system mic strapped to his uniform, and Lexicon took it.
Now it came down to it. In his best approximation of an Itani pilot's voice, he spoke into the vox system: "Ma'am, don't worry, we have you. Is you daughter with you?"
"Wha? Yes! Oh YES Thank Eo! Please! See to my daughter in the other crate! I'm... afraid she's done something horrible!"
"Not yet." Lexicon thought to himself. He noticed that the partially-buried secure crate was slightly open, and stepped over some debris to investigate further. Gently, he pulled on the door, and it creaked open to reveal... a petite young girl, apparently sedated, asleep but breathing shallow. He looked at the datapad's image of her - yes! He had found her!
Lexicon smiled as he cradled the girl in his arms, she would be his salvation, his link back to the Lady Serco, and his redemption. With her he would bring victory to the holy armies of the Dominion and at last bring the galaxy to heel.
Holding her limp body like a newborn, he made his way across the littered cargo bay and spoke to the Mother's crate through the vox system again, "I have your child. Do not be afraid, for she will bring glory again back to the galaxy. Eons from now, your distant bretheren will look back upon this day and rejoice, for it marks the beginning of a new era for humankind."
"Wh.. What?" the mother's blood turned to icewater as she realized the person on the outside of the crate was not a friend, but her worst fears realized. "NOO! Give me my child! Camillia! CAMILLIA!" She rocked the crate over onto its side with her fury. She threw herself against the sides of the tiny crate with all her might, desperately scratching at the door seams until her fingertips began to bleed.
"Your stewardship of my test subject will be noted and acknowledged, my dear lady. Do you wish her to be baptized in the name of the Lady Serco?"
"MONSTER!" Camillia's mother wailed from within her prison, "Give me my child! GIVE HER TO ME NOW!"
"Oh, my dear, The Great Lady Serco requires your gifted daughter, and I'm afraid she is no longer yours..." Lexicon whispered into the vox microphone, "... but do not worry, she will not feel an inordinate amount of pain." And with that, Lexicon left for the entry hatch.
The roars of a mother robbed of her offspring faded as Lexicon sealed the cargo bay service hatch, dropped the vox microphone, and rummaged around the ship for a spare EVA suit. Going through the ship's supplies, he discovered a supply of hypodermic sedatives, which he pocketed for later use should the child prove to be... difficult. After almost giving up hope of finding an auxillary EVA suit, he discovered one under the pilot's chair and quickly slid Camillia into it, donned his helmet, and departed for his own ship with the unconscious girl in tow. He detached the tether and made his own ship secure, with the child safely locked in the Hornet's cargo hold.
"Now," Lexicon said to himself as he readied his Hornet for a fast return to Geira, "the real fun begins. Praise the Lady."
Framed by the orange halo of the planet Oro, the crimson hornet warped out-of-sector, leaving the Centaur adrift with a mother's wailing sobs of despair echoing within.
It was unusual for a Serco to come to Jallik, but even moreso this one. Barely above the entrance requirements, Lexicon had nevertheless filed the proper paperwork and the newly-hired Dockmaster had reluctantly let him in.
He pulled the hatch and effortlessly bounded from his cockpit to the deck floor, landing heavily with a metal clang that announced the presence of a Serco on-deck. He met the hostile stares of the itani dockworkers with his practiced smile, and moved purposefully towards the docking computer interface.
"Hold on a minute, bub," The new dockmaster said as Lexicon attempted to plug a datapad into the docking computer, "You can't just come in here and..."
Lexicon looked down at the fresh-faced young appointee, and in his best parental voice, said "My son, let's do this the *EASY* way, shall we?" He gently moved the dockmaster away from the panel and inserted the datapad he'd acquired from that Double Omega Seven character.
Unsure of what to do, the dockmaster wavered submissively, as yet unused to his new commanding role on the flightdeck. Lexicon issued complex commands to the computer and the remaining dockworkers looked on, amazed at the passivity of their new boss. He felt the stares of his subordinates; they burned him with shame and anger, and he garnered his courage and tapped the Serco lightly on the shoulder. "Um, sir..."
"All done here." Lexicon said, as he had been quickly able to extract the data relevant to the latest cargo transport that matched with the pad's information. A priority haul signature, it had been paid for by none other than the [ITAN] guild, with someone known as "Dasmar" as the pilot of registry. He unplugged the datapad and faced the dockmaster, looming over him by a good two feet and easily outweighing him by 200 pounds.
"I... I'm afraid you'll have to leave, Sir." the dockmaster stuttered. "We can't allow Serco access to the docking computer."
"Quite right." Lexicon boomed, "Sorry to have bothered you, dockmaster. Fine station you have here." He turned and made a beeline to his Hornet, amidst muttering from the station's docking bay crew and not a few racial insults uttered under their breaths. His augmented hearing picked up all of it; now was not the time to baptize these fools, however much his trigger finger itched.
He entered his Hornet again, sealed the hatch, noticed that none of the workers had even attempted to begin servicing his ship, and made ready for launch. A thunk echoed from the hull of his ship, and he looked up.
The dockworkers were agitated, and beginning to throw items at his ship. A hydrospanner bounced off his canopy. Lexicon smiled at his attackers, swiveled his ship about and boosted out of the docking bay without clearance, scaring a miner in a wraith.
The datapad was not totally conclusive, but clearly indicated that a group of Itani had taken Camillia to the other side of Itani space. The signature from the first forced relocation order matched the current one, which made this a valid lead; Lexicon felt the slightest bit sorry for killing the Deck Handler, after all, his information WAS proving to be correct. On to Deneb, then - they couldn't have a very large head start.
He punched in a navroute that took him around the notorious ion storms in Jallik's Oro asteroid belt, and warped.
His first jump took him to the massive gas giant planet Oro - a monstrosity of a planet whose rings actually spanned three sectors. In the dull orange light given off by Jallik's sun, he spotted movement.
A ship, tumbling near the planet!
Lexicon accelerated smoothly towards it. A Centaur Aggresso, it was flying midnight black colors and seemed to be adrift. When he was sure that there was nobody at the controls, he brought his Hornet alongside and tethered the ships together in a stable orbit, preparing for EVA.
Using some of his decryption routines, he cracked the voiceprint ID for the outer hatch, and entered the medium-sized vessel. After transiting through the entry hatch and making sure there was atmosphere inside the ship, he heard noises coming from the cargo bay. Lexicon removed his helmet and ran down the short hallway, through the access hatch, bursting into the Centaur's rear cargo section.
It was a mess - the pile of crates partially buried the pilot and one secure crate. Another secure crate was rocking back and forth, the obvious source of the screams. A woman, by the sound of it. Perhaps The Lady was with him, after all. The pilot had an old vox system mic strapped to his uniform, and Lexicon took it.
Now it came down to it. In his best approximation of an Itani pilot's voice, he spoke into the vox system: "Ma'am, don't worry, we have you. Is you daughter with you?"
"Wha? Yes! Oh YES Thank Eo! Please! See to my daughter in the other crate! I'm... afraid she's done something horrible!"
"Not yet." Lexicon thought to himself. He noticed that the partially-buried secure crate was slightly open, and stepped over some debris to investigate further. Gently, he pulled on the door, and it creaked open to reveal... a petite young girl, apparently sedated, asleep but breathing shallow. He looked at the datapad's image of her - yes! He had found her!
Lexicon smiled as he cradled the girl in his arms, she would be his salvation, his link back to the Lady Serco, and his redemption. With her he would bring victory to the holy armies of the Dominion and at last bring the galaxy to heel.
Holding her limp body like a newborn, he made his way across the littered cargo bay and spoke to the Mother's crate through the vox system again, "I have your child. Do not be afraid, for she will bring glory again back to the galaxy. Eons from now, your distant bretheren will look back upon this day and rejoice, for it marks the beginning of a new era for humankind."
"Wh.. What?" the mother's blood turned to icewater as she realized the person on the outside of the crate was not a friend, but her worst fears realized. "NOO! Give me my child! Camillia! CAMILLIA!" She rocked the crate over onto its side with her fury. She threw herself against the sides of the tiny crate with all her might, desperately scratching at the door seams until her fingertips began to bleed.
"Your stewardship of my test subject will be noted and acknowledged, my dear lady. Do you wish her to be baptized in the name of the Lady Serco?"
"MONSTER!" Camillia's mother wailed from within her prison, "Give me my child! GIVE HER TO ME NOW!"
"Oh, my dear, The Great Lady Serco requires your gifted daughter, and I'm afraid she is no longer yours..." Lexicon whispered into the vox microphone, "... but do not worry, she will not feel an inordinate amount of pain." And with that, Lexicon left for the entry hatch.
The roars of a mother robbed of her offspring faded as Lexicon sealed the cargo bay service hatch, dropped the vox microphone, and rummaged around the ship for a spare EVA suit. Going through the ship's supplies, he discovered a supply of hypodermic sedatives, which he pocketed for later use should the child prove to be... difficult. After almost giving up hope of finding an auxillary EVA suit, he discovered one under the pilot's chair and quickly slid Camillia into it, donned his helmet, and departed for his own ship with the unconscious girl in tow. He detached the tether and made his own ship secure, with the child safely locked in the Hornet's cargo hold.
"Now," Lexicon said to himself as he readied his Hornet for a fast return to Geira, "the real fun begins. Praise the Lady."
Framed by the orange halo of the planet Oro, the crimson hornet warped out-of-sector, leaving the Centaur adrift with a mother's wailing sobs of despair echoing within.
Waffles sat behind a large dest in Ellias Stand staring out at the convoy leaving Deneb. He was holding a head set very intently to his ears.
"What do you mean the 'taur is gone? Where did it... Yes, I realize if you knew where it is you wouldn't have reported it mis.... THIS IS NOT A TIME TO START YELLING! Find it, now. Please... yes i know space is F'ING HUGE!"
He sat back and tried to remember that meditation trick that old monk taught him oh so many years ago. A deep breath in, thought Waffles, and a deep breath out.
"Ok, I'll alert the Lt.'s and the Commander, you keep searching... Yes, I think she did it too... ok, well we know it's still in the system, start looking."
Waffles, slowly and deliberately set down the head set into it's cradle, careful not to release the anger and frustration building up inside of him. He reached over to his com unit and was about to page his commander when it went off. upper case must have heard him yelling and called him before he could make the call.
"Afternoon sir... So you heard... Yes sir, I do have some bad news. Ok here's the deal, she's gone. The 'taur jumped while the decoy was out... Could you hold one second Sir."
Waffle's person assitant had just peeked her head around the large door to his office. She was holding a report folder. "This just came in from Jallik," she told him. "Marked Urgent."
"Well, let me see," said Waffles as he grabbed his glasses. "Thank you Reese."
"Sorry sir, but this is actually important and some what helpful. A Serco was reported docking not long after the convoy left the station... Yes sir, not good... Yeah, thats my guess. I fear it's too late..."
The commander said very little after that. Waffles once again hung up the head set. He pushed back his chair, straightened his tie and headed for the hanger. He had some business to attend to.
<OOC> EDIT: edited :)
"What do you mean the 'taur is gone? Where did it... Yes, I realize if you knew where it is you wouldn't have reported it mis.... THIS IS NOT A TIME TO START YELLING! Find it, now. Please... yes i know space is F'ING HUGE!"
He sat back and tried to remember that meditation trick that old monk taught him oh so many years ago. A deep breath in, thought Waffles, and a deep breath out.
"Ok, I'll alert the Lt.'s and the Commander, you keep searching... Yes, I think she did it too... ok, well we know it's still in the system, start looking."
Waffles, slowly and deliberately set down the head set into it's cradle, careful not to release the anger and frustration building up inside of him. He reached over to his com unit and was about to page his commander when it went off. upper case must have heard him yelling and called him before he could make the call.
"Afternoon sir... So you heard... Yes sir, I do have some bad news. Ok here's the deal, she's gone. The 'taur jumped while the decoy was out... Could you hold one second Sir."
Waffle's person assitant had just peeked her head around the large door to his office. She was holding a report folder. "This just came in from Jallik," she told him. "Marked Urgent."
"Well, let me see," said Waffles as he grabbed his glasses. "Thank you Reese."
"Sorry sir, but this is actually important and some what helpful. A Serco was reported docking not long after the convoy left the station... Yes sir, not good... Yeah, thats my guess. I fear it's too late..."
The commander said very little after that. Waffles once again hung up the head set. He pushed back his chair, straightened his tie and headed for the hanger. He had some business to attend to.
<OOC> EDIT: edited :)
Old Ecka stretches, smiles at the storyteller and reaches for the bottle once more .....
A girl was sleeping. Under Anastasia, the large dose she had received from the guard in distress has to be a near-fatal shot.
For once in her life, she stopped existing. Not a dream. Not a vision. Not that tingling feeling she could sense through her skin at the proximity of an itani ship's thought control console. There was just her and she was unaware of herself. She just was.
Alone.
Alone. Alone but not by herself. In her hand, still holding firm to it, a small object was buzzing in silence. A magical key as she once called it.
Alone like her mother. Passed out of exhaustion, her nails and knuckles bleeding alike from trying to get out of her escape pod turned prison cell. There she waited, in a totally silent metallic box, silence disturbed only by the air recycling system.
Alone like the security guard, caught off his guard. A big thug had been weakened by a frail little girl. One whom he had moved many times above. One whom he never actually swore to protect. One he did, for he was well paid to do so. And that's where his allegiance lied. Knocked out by a severe concussion, his sturdy thug body seemed like a wet cloth dropped negligently atop an irregular floor, made out of a messed out cargo hold.
Alone like a Tunguska Aggresso, adrift in space, near a gigantic planet which dwarfed many other stars.
Alone like a Valkyrie pilot whose radar picked up nothing. Not a trace of debris, not a trace of explosives. Just an ion trail suggesting a jump. For days now, he had jumped from this point to any other reachable jump point trying to look for clues as to where the ship might have gone.
All calls, weither on private or squad channels went unanswered. That's when he decided to reach headquarters for some hints or suspicious skirmishes or else. And then the news of a bizarre visitor in Jallik.
He was not having a good day.
The Valkyrie pilot tuned onto the squad group channel as he was plotting himself a safe course to Jallik Gardens:
"ok folks the search is called off in this sector. go to the nearest station and freshen up. get yourselves a fast light fighter and join me to our origin point. the investigation resumes there.
- Roger that squad leader, said the Behemoth pilot.
- Aye aye commander sir, replied the Centurion pilot."
Three flashes of blue and the sector was empty.
For once in her life, she stopped existing. Not a dream. Not a vision. Not that tingling feeling she could sense through her skin at the proximity of an itani ship's thought control console. There was just her and she was unaware of herself. She just was.
Alone.
Alone. Alone but not by herself. In her hand, still holding firm to it, a small object was buzzing in silence. A magical key as she once called it.
Alone like her mother. Passed out of exhaustion, her nails and knuckles bleeding alike from trying to get out of her escape pod turned prison cell. There she waited, in a totally silent metallic box, silence disturbed only by the air recycling system.
Alone like the security guard, caught off his guard. A big thug had been weakened by a frail little girl. One whom he had moved many times above. One whom he never actually swore to protect. One he did, for he was well paid to do so. And that's where his allegiance lied. Knocked out by a severe concussion, his sturdy thug body seemed like a wet cloth dropped negligently atop an irregular floor, made out of a messed out cargo hold.
Alone like a Tunguska Aggresso, adrift in space, near a gigantic planet which dwarfed many other stars.
Alone like a Valkyrie pilot whose radar picked up nothing. Not a trace of debris, not a trace of explosives. Just an ion trail suggesting a jump. For days now, he had jumped from this point to any other reachable jump point trying to look for clues as to where the ship might have gone.
All calls, weither on private or squad channels went unanswered. That's when he decided to reach headquarters for some hints or suspicious skirmishes or else. And then the news of a bizarre visitor in Jallik.
He was not having a good day.
The Valkyrie pilot tuned onto the squad group channel as he was plotting himself a safe course to Jallik Gardens:
"ok folks the search is called off in this sector. go to the nearest station and freshen up. get yourselves a fast light fighter and join me to our origin point. the investigation resumes there.
- Roger that squad leader, said the Behemoth pilot.
- Aye aye commander sir, replied the Centurion pilot."
Three flashes of blue and the sector was empty.
As he waited paitently for an opening, the Vulture spun in semi circles and strafes in front of him. "He will slip up soon..." And sure enough, the "servant of the Lady" did. Three sunflares tore through his hull and ended his threatening presence in the sector. As his escape pod zoomed away, he unlocked the datapad and read the contents... which led him to another set of instructions... Now those, those led Erik to the information on the datapad. As he obtained access to the CommNets and various NetNews outlets, he began to stream the data....
Shipping transactions sorted newest first.
Notes are in-lined.
Date : December 4th, 4434
Broker : Unlikely Travel Services, Inc.
Carrier : *private entrepreneur* Vaal'Ok Dasmar
Client : upper case
Content : Personal material; house furniture
A/S : Vionka Morphis
Crate IDs : mgl.vel.001 - mgl.vel.014, upr.cas.001 - upr.cas.003
Special : Pressure-sensitive material; 1-athmosphere pressure required, 22 celcius, 40% humidity, breathable
Pick-Up : Verasi Kannik Hold
Destination : Jallik Garden
Insurer : COI MGL Trust Funds, Inc
- In this transaction, the current destination is Jallik. We can see it originated from Verasi.
- It looks like the in care of (a/s) addressee is Vionka Morphis.
- The witch monk's name is Camillia Morphis, as per her teacher's reckoning. He is my encryption wiz.
- The client is upper case. Strange that an Itani commander is involved. Shows perhaps the
kid monk is special to them.
- The carrier is a private entrepreneur. Doesn't seem to have a commercial registration.
Date : November 14th, 4434
Broker : Unlikely Travel Services, Inc.
Carrier : *private entrepreneur* Vaal'Ok Dasmar
Client : upper case
Content : Personal material; house furniture
A/S : Vionka Morphis
Crate IDs : mgl.vel.001 - mgl.vel.014, upr.cas.001 - upr.cas.003
Special : Pressure-sensitive material; 1-athmosphere pressure required, 22 celcius, 40% humidity, breathable
Pick-Up : Nyrius Asuin Tech
Destination : Verasi Kannik Hold
Insurer : COI MGL Trust Funds, Inc
- Same shipment details as the later record.
- I have used the crate IDs to track down previous shipment and track where they originated.
- We can trace their previous origin to be Nyrius--there was a deck incident there recently. The kid monk is certainly involved.
Date : November 2nd, 4434
Broker : Unlikely Travel Services, Inc.
Carrier : *private entrepreneur* Vaal'Ok Dasmar
Client : upper case
Content : Personal material; house furniture
A/S : Vionka Morphis
Crate IDs : mgl.vel.001 - mgl.vel.014, upr.cas.001
Special : Pressure-sensitive material; 1-athmosphere pressure required, 22 celcius, 40% humidity, breathable
Pick-Up : Dau Osteem Orbital
Destination : Nyrius Asuin Tech
Insurer : COI MGL Trust Funds, Inc
- Same shipment again. Less two crates. They were carrying less material back them. They move a lot.
Date : October 2nd, 4434
Broker : Unlikely Travel Services, Inc.
Carrier : *private entrepreneur* Vaal'Ok Dasmar
Client : upper case
Content : Personal material; house furniture
A/S : Vionka Morphis
Crate IDs : mgl.vel.001 - mgl.vel.014, upr.cas.001
Special : Pressure-sensitive material; 1-athmosphere pressure required, 22 celcius, 40% humidity, breathable
Pick-Up : Dau Dau Research
Destination : Dau Osteem Orbital
Insurer : COI MGL Trust Funds, Inc
- Similar shipment, still going back in time.
Date : September 4th, 4434
Broker : Unlikely Travel Services, Inc.
Carrier : *private entrepreneur* Vaal'Ok Dasmar
Client : upper case
Content : Personal material; house furniture
A/S : Vionka Morphis
Crate IDs : mgl.vel.001 - mgl.vel.014
Special : Pressure-sensitive material; 1-athmosphere pressure required, 22 celcius, 40% humidity, breathable
Pick-Up : Arta Caelestis Orment Orbital
Destination : Dau Dau Research
Insurer : COI MGL Trust Funds, Inc
- Still the same. Less the second series of crate.
Date : August 14th, 4434
Broker : Unlikely Travel Services, Inc.
Carrier : *private entrepreneur* Vaal'Ok Dasmar
Client : upper case
Content : Personal material; house furniture
A/S : Vionka Morphis
Crate IDs : mgl.vel.001 - mgl.vel.014
Special : Pressure-sensitive material; 1-athmosphere pressure required, 22 celcius, 40% humidity, breathable
Pick-Up : Dau Osteem Orbital
Destination : Arta Caelestis Orment Orbital
Insurer : COI MGL Trust Funds, Inc
- Here the shipment has even less crates and all seem to be of the same series unlike later shipments that have two distinct series.
Date : August 4th, 4434
Broker : Unlikely Travel Services, Inc.
Carrier : *private entrepreneur* Vaal'Ok Dasmar
Client : upper case
Content : Personal material; house furniture
A/S : Vionka Morphis
Crate IDs : mgl.vel.001 - mgl.vel.014
Special : Pressure-sensitive material; 1-athmosphere pressure required, 22 celcius, 40% humidity, breathable
Pick-Up : Azek Azek Central
Destination : Dau Oretes Orbital
Insurer : COI MGL Trust Funds, Inc
- Same shipment.
Date : June 26th, 4434
Broker : Unlikely Travel Services, Inc.
Carrier : Itani-corp-876430-65-11p Limited
Client : Vaal'Ok Dasmar
Content : Personal material; house furniture
A/S : Vionka Velaio
Crate IDs : mgl.vel.001 - mgl.vel.014
Special : Pressure-sensitive material; 1-athmosphere pressure required, 22 celcius, 40% humidity, breathable
Pick-Up : Arta Aquilus Minutus Orbital
Destination : Azek Azek Central
Insurer : COI MGL Trust Funds, Inc
- THIS is where it gets interesting. Is it an error? Vioka's last name is different.
- The last name would seem to fit part of the crate IDs. So there must be a correlation.
- The client is the private entrepreneur who later became carrier.
Date : Apr 12th, 4434
Broker : Unlikely Travel Services, Inc.
Carrier : Itani-corp-876430-65-11p Limited
Client : Vaal'Ok Dasmar
Content : Personal material; house furniture
A/S : Mogul Velaio
Crate IDs : mgl.vel.001 - mgl.vel.014
Special : Pressure-sensitive material; 1-athmosphere pressure required, 22 celcius, 40% humidity, breathable
Pick-Up : Divinia Marain Garden
Destination : Arta Aquilus Minutus Orbital
Insurer : COI MGL Trust Funds, Inc
- Further in time. The beans are spilled. The care/of is Mogul Velaio. That crazy loon that tried to blow up sedina.
- Vionka's real name must indeed be Vionka Velaio.
- The kid monk... is none other than Camillia Velaio, the daughter of Mogul Velaio. I bet the Dominion would like to know that!
Date : Apr 6th, 4434
Broker : Unlikely Travel Services, Inc.
Carrier : Itani-corp-876430-65-11p Limited
Client : Vaal'Ok Dasmar
Content : Personal material; house furniture
A/S : Mogul Velaio
Crate IDs : mgl.vel.001 - mgl.vel.014
Special : Pressure-sensitive material; 1-athmosphere pressure required, 22 celcius, 40% humidity, breathable
Pick-Up : Itan Armand's Reward
Destination : Divinia Marain Garden
Insurer : COI MGL Trust Funds, Inc
Notes:
- In the above record, we can see the attention/special care of person is Mogul Velaio.
- The crate IDs seem to match the owner of the shipment.
- It looks like the isurrer is a private trusts funds. Might be owned by Mogul Velaio.
- Vaal'Ok Dasmar is the client. He's the one that got imprisoned (and later released for some reason) that has allowed Mogul Velaio to acquire the weapons and do his deeds.
And it hit him. No matter how twisted Mogul himself was near the end of his days, hadn't his family suffered enough?
Shipping transactions sorted newest first.
Notes are in-lined.
Date : December 4th, 4434
Broker : Unlikely Travel Services, Inc.
Carrier : *private entrepreneur* Vaal'Ok Dasmar
Client : upper case
Content : Personal material; house furniture
A/S : Vionka Morphis
Crate IDs : mgl.vel.001 - mgl.vel.014, upr.cas.001 - upr.cas.003
Special : Pressure-sensitive material; 1-athmosphere pressure required, 22 celcius, 40% humidity, breathable
Pick-Up : Verasi Kannik Hold
Destination : Jallik Garden
Insurer : COI MGL Trust Funds, Inc
- In this transaction, the current destination is Jallik. We can see it originated from Verasi.
- It looks like the in care of (a/s) addressee is Vionka Morphis.
- The witch monk's name is Camillia Morphis, as per her teacher's reckoning. He is my encryption wiz.
- The client is upper case. Strange that an Itani commander is involved. Shows perhaps the
kid monk is special to them.
- The carrier is a private entrepreneur. Doesn't seem to have a commercial registration.
Date : November 14th, 4434
Broker : Unlikely Travel Services, Inc.
Carrier : *private entrepreneur* Vaal'Ok Dasmar
Client : upper case
Content : Personal material; house furniture
A/S : Vionka Morphis
Crate IDs : mgl.vel.001 - mgl.vel.014, upr.cas.001 - upr.cas.003
Special : Pressure-sensitive material; 1-athmosphere pressure required, 22 celcius, 40% humidity, breathable
Pick-Up : Nyrius Asuin Tech
Destination : Verasi Kannik Hold
Insurer : COI MGL Trust Funds, Inc
- Same shipment details as the later record.
- I have used the crate IDs to track down previous shipment and track where they originated.
- We can trace their previous origin to be Nyrius--there was a deck incident there recently. The kid monk is certainly involved.
Date : November 2nd, 4434
Broker : Unlikely Travel Services, Inc.
Carrier : *private entrepreneur* Vaal'Ok Dasmar
Client : upper case
Content : Personal material; house furniture
A/S : Vionka Morphis
Crate IDs : mgl.vel.001 - mgl.vel.014, upr.cas.001
Special : Pressure-sensitive material; 1-athmosphere pressure required, 22 celcius, 40% humidity, breathable
Pick-Up : Dau Osteem Orbital
Destination : Nyrius Asuin Tech
Insurer : COI MGL Trust Funds, Inc
- Same shipment again. Less two crates. They were carrying less material back them. They move a lot.
Date : October 2nd, 4434
Broker : Unlikely Travel Services, Inc.
Carrier : *private entrepreneur* Vaal'Ok Dasmar
Client : upper case
Content : Personal material; house furniture
A/S : Vionka Morphis
Crate IDs : mgl.vel.001 - mgl.vel.014, upr.cas.001
Special : Pressure-sensitive material; 1-athmosphere pressure required, 22 celcius, 40% humidity, breathable
Pick-Up : Dau Dau Research
Destination : Dau Osteem Orbital
Insurer : COI MGL Trust Funds, Inc
- Similar shipment, still going back in time.
Date : September 4th, 4434
Broker : Unlikely Travel Services, Inc.
Carrier : *private entrepreneur* Vaal'Ok Dasmar
Client : upper case
Content : Personal material; house furniture
A/S : Vionka Morphis
Crate IDs : mgl.vel.001 - mgl.vel.014
Special : Pressure-sensitive material; 1-athmosphere pressure required, 22 celcius, 40% humidity, breathable
Pick-Up : Arta Caelestis Orment Orbital
Destination : Dau Dau Research
Insurer : COI MGL Trust Funds, Inc
- Still the same. Less the second series of crate.
Date : August 14th, 4434
Broker : Unlikely Travel Services, Inc.
Carrier : *private entrepreneur* Vaal'Ok Dasmar
Client : upper case
Content : Personal material; house furniture
A/S : Vionka Morphis
Crate IDs : mgl.vel.001 - mgl.vel.014
Special : Pressure-sensitive material; 1-athmosphere pressure required, 22 celcius, 40% humidity, breathable
Pick-Up : Dau Osteem Orbital
Destination : Arta Caelestis Orment Orbital
Insurer : COI MGL Trust Funds, Inc
- Here the shipment has even less crates and all seem to be of the same series unlike later shipments that have two distinct series.
Date : August 4th, 4434
Broker : Unlikely Travel Services, Inc.
Carrier : *private entrepreneur* Vaal'Ok Dasmar
Client : upper case
Content : Personal material; house furniture
A/S : Vionka Morphis
Crate IDs : mgl.vel.001 - mgl.vel.014
Special : Pressure-sensitive material; 1-athmosphere pressure required, 22 celcius, 40% humidity, breathable
Pick-Up : Azek Azek Central
Destination : Dau Oretes Orbital
Insurer : COI MGL Trust Funds, Inc
- Same shipment.
Date : June 26th, 4434
Broker : Unlikely Travel Services, Inc.
Carrier : Itani-corp-876430-65-11p Limited
Client : Vaal'Ok Dasmar
Content : Personal material; house furniture
A/S : Vionka Velaio
Crate IDs : mgl.vel.001 - mgl.vel.014
Special : Pressure-sensitive material; 1-athmosphere pressure required, 22 celcius, 40% humidity, breathable
Pick-Up : Arta Aquilus Minutus Orbital
Destination : Azek Azek Central
Insurer : COI MGL Trust Funds, Inc
- THIS is where it gets interesting. Is it an error? Vioka's last name is different.
- The last name would seem to fit part of the crate IDs. So there must be a correlation.
- The client is the private entrepreneur who later became carrier.
Date : Apr 12th, 4434
Broker : Unlikely Travel Services, Inc.
Carrier : Itani-corp-876430-65-11p Limited
Client : Vaal'Ok Dasmar
Content : Personal material; house furniture
A/S : Mogul Velaio
Crate IDs : mgl.vel.001 - mgl.vel.014
Special : Pressure-sensitive material; 1-athmosphere pressure required, 22 celcius, 40% humidity, breathable
Pick-Up : Divinia Marain Garden
Destination : Arta Aquilus Minutus Orbital
Insurer : COI MGL Trust Funds, Inc
- Further in time. The beans are spilled. The care/of is Mogul Velaio. That crazy loon that tried to blow up sedina.
- Vionka's real name must indeed be Vionka Velaio.
- The kid monk... is none other than Camillia Velaio, the daughter of Mogul Velaio. I bet the Dominion would like to know that!
Date : Apr 6th, 4434
Broker : Unlikely Travel Services, Inc.
Carrier : Itani-corp-876430-65-11p Limited
Client : Vaal'Ok Dasmar
Content : Personal material; house furniture
A/S : Mogul Velaio
Crate IDs : mgl.vel.001 - mgl.vel.014
Special : Pressure-sensitive material; 1-athmosphere pressure required, 22 celcius, 40% humidity, breathable
Pick-Up : Itan Armand's Reward
Destination : Divinia Marain Garden
Insurer : COI MGL Trust Funds, Inc
Notes:
- In the above record, we can see the attention/special care of person is Mogul Velaio.
- The crate IDs seem to match the owner of the shipment.
- It looks like the isurrer is a private trusts funds. Might be owned by Mogul Velaio.
- Vaal'Ok Dasmar is the client. He's the one that got imprisoned (and later released for some reason) that has allowed Mogul Velaio to acquire the weapons and do his deeds.
And it hit him. No matter how twisted Mogul himself was near the end of his days, hadn't his family suffered enough?
Lexicon rubbed his arms and regarded his little test subject which lay on the test table. All was ready. The datapad had been "placed" with an appropriate source, who had done as Lexicon had forseen, broadcast it throughout the galaxy.
He'd respawned back in Geira, back in the lab he'd put together for himself after the incident with Sarken, and began his work anew.
Ahh yes, now to come down to it. He shaved the unconscious girl's head, and spun up the cranial drills. Under protests from a few itani who had learned of his plot, he connected the "dots" with a rotary saw, being as careful as possible to not damage the subject. Carefully, carefully he managed to pry the skull fragment loose and set it aside in the sterile area. He'd made a small mistake, nicking the brain a bit, but the medibots has managed to correct it.
Now the girl lay, with her brain exposed through the surgical drapes, and Lexicon prepared to laproscopically extract the stem cells he required for his experiment. If all went well, the girl would be fine. If not, well... some things could not be helped.
The girl's abilities allowed her to control ships with a mere thought. She'd been able to control dozens at a time. With training, he would be able to do the same, and probably orders of magnitude more. And then, with not only guises but masses of centrally-controlled ships, The Serco Dominion would finally bring the wayward races of the galaxy back into the fold.
But far more than that, it was the promise of obtaining the mental abilities of the girl, and the possibility that doing so would allow him direct contact with the Lady Serco.
It was only a matter of time now before the [ITAN] guild and possibly other meddling parties would attempt some kind of lame rescue. A typical knee-jerk reaction. The reaction of Professor Mifune was puzzling, had he some kind of stake in this? His behavior was... odd for a scientist.
Regardless, he rested briefly before continuing on his experiments...
He'd respawned back in Geira, back in the lab he'd put together for himself after the incident with Sarken, and began his work anew.
Ahh yes, now to come down to it. He shaved the unconscious girl's head, and spun up the cranial drills. Under protests from a few itani who had learned of his plot, he connected the "dots" with a rotary saw, being as careful as possible to not damage the subject. Carefully, carefully he managed to pry the skull fragment loose and set it aside in the sterile area. He'd made a small mistake, nicking the brain a bit, but the medibots has managed to correct it.
Now the girl lay, with her brain exposed through the surgical drapes, and Lexicon prepared to laproscopically extract the stem cells he required for his experiment. If all went well, the girl would be fine. If not, well... some things could not be helped.
The girl's abilities allowed her to control ships with a mere thought. She'd been able to control dozens at a time. With training, he would be able to do the same, and probably orders of magnitude more. And then, with not only guises but masses of centrally-controlled ships, The Serco Dominion would finally bring the wayward races of the galaxy back into the fold.
But far more than that, it was the promise of obtaining the mental abilities of the girl, and the possibility that doing so would allow him direct contact with the Lady Serco.
It was only a matter of time now before the [ITAN] guild and possibly other meddling parties would attempt some kind of lame rescue. A typical knee-jerk reaction. The reaction of Professor Mifune was puzzling, had he some kind of stake in this? His behavior was... odd for a scientist.
Regardless, he rested briefly before continuing on his experiments...
upper case was upset. very upset.
for months, now, he had kept the existence and whereabouts of vionka velaio and camillia velaio secret. caring for them, arranging the paperwork when it needed to be, hiding transactions the best he could.
all this, for one dead man and a promise made to him.
a dead man who had predicted he could put upper case on a path to become a high officer. and have achieved it.
a dead man who had thought him everything he knew about the intricate details of bureaucracy and your ways around it.
a dead man who's face was frozen on his screen. next to it was an archived letter he had sent home, years ago.
May faith spare my wife and girl. Dark days are on their way.
these words struck upper case like those of a soothsayer. dark days indeed. how come did mogul knew so much in advance and yet, hadn't found a way to avoid that?
upper case was reviewing the current intelligence on the camillia affair. the baptizer was spotted in jallik. he had used a non-public data terminal. the logs indicated he had accessed the crate transit database. it showed access to an off-site file where details of the kid's movements were laid out.
upper case had underestimated the deck handler, and had he realized how far he had gone with tracing the kid back to it's origins, he would have dealt with the nosy handler much sooner. but it was too late now.
cursing at mogul, upper case pulled the ceramic bullet out of his computer systems's external device port. the bullet, in fact a hidden transmitter, shut itself off, cutting it's transmission from [itan]'s deep blue machine.
a flash of blue and upper case was in an ion storm. jallik was notorious for it's storms and in a moment of distraction, forgot to plot around the oro asteroid field. that field has swallowed a number of traders over the years. it was mind-boggling that it was stilled used for trading cargo. backtracking his path to get out of the consecutive storms' usual line, upper case's ship proximity sensor sounded off in a sector that is usually empty.
it was vaal'ok dasmar's tunguska aggresso, adrift. a hail returned nothing.
lacking eva practice, upper case reluctantly put on his suit and, standing atop his valk's canopy, jumped towards the aggresso. nearly missing the ship, upper case held on to the ship and boarded it.
taking off his suit, upper case could not identify any malfunction in the ship. not a burnt smell or else in the cockpit. seeing the cargo hatch door, he decided to crawl down there and inspect it's content.
the place the a mess. a number of cargo crates had broken loose off their lock pins. they had been torn off as if the ship had suffered a great impact. like a collision with a roid. but there were none in this sector and the ship's outer hull was in perfect condition.
amidst the rubbles or spewed furniture was vaal'ok dasmar. unconcious, yet alive. he had a big gash on the top of his forehead. presumably that of a container falling on him.
next to him was a vacant crate. the one he actually cared about. another, further down the cargo bay, was indicating it's content was alive.
upper case returned to the cockpit and saddled on. taking aim as his valkyrie, upper case disengaged the safety locks and released a salvo, destroying the light fighter.
he plotted a course and made way to a nearby station.
for months, now, he had kept the existence and whereabouts of vionka velaio and camillia velaio secret. caring for them, arranging the paperwork when it needed to be, hiding transactions the best he could.
all this, for one dead man and a promise made to him.
a dead man who had predicted he could put upper case on a path to become a high officer. and have achieved it.
a dead man who had thought him everything he knew about the intricate details of bureaucracy and your ways around it.
a dead man who's face was frozen on his screen. next to it was an archived letter he had sent home, years ago.
May faith spare my wife and girl. Dark days are on their way.
these words struck upper case like those of a soothsayer. dark days indeed. how come did mogul knew so much in advance and yet, hadn't found a way to avoid that?
upper case was reviewing the current intelligence on the camillia affair. the baptizer was spotted in jallik. he had used a non-public data terminal. the logs indicated he had accessed the crate transit database. it showed access to an off-site file where details of the kid's movements were laid out.
upper case had underestimated the deck handler, and had he realized how far he had gone with tracing the kid back to it's origins, he would have dealt with the nosy handler much sooner. but it was too late now.
cursing at mogul, upper case pulled the ceramic bullet out of his computer systems's external device port. the bullet, in fact a hidden transmitter, shut itself off, cutting it's transmission from [itan]'s deep blue machine.
a flash of blue and upper case was in an ion storm. jallik was notorious for it's storms and in a moment of distraction, forgot to plot around the oro asteroid field. that field has swallowed a number of traders over the years. it was mind-boggling that it was stilled used for trading cargo. backtracking his path to get out of the consecutive storms' usual line, upper case's ship proximity sensor sounded off in a sector that is usually empty.
it was vaal'ok dasmar's tunguska aggresso, adrift. a hail returned nothing.
lacking eva practice, upper case reluctantly put on his suit and, standing atop his valk's canopy, jumped towards the aggresso. nearly missing the ship, upper case held on to the ship and boarded it.
taking off his suit, upper case could not identify any malfunction in the ship. not a burnt smell or else in the cockpit. seeing the cargo hatch door, he decided to crawl down there and inspect it's content.
the place the a mess. a number of cargo crates had broken loose off their lock pins. they had been torn off as if the ship had suffered a great impact. like a collision with a roid. but there were none in this sector and the ship's outer hull was in perfect condition.
amidst the rubbles or spewed furniture was vaal'ok dasmar. unconcious, yet alive. he had a big gash on the top of his forehead. presumably that of a container falling on him.
next to him was a vacant crate. the one he actually cared about. another, further down the cargo bay, was indicating it's content was alive.
upper case returned to the cockpit and saddled on. taking aim as his valkyrie, upper case disengaged the safety locks and released a salvo, destroying the light fighter.
he plotted a course and made way to a nearby station.
"This the mother then?"
The reply from the Itani guard was a nod.
It hardly seemed fair to Nolan. He didn't know these people, or the story behind the whole mess. There was the datapad that Erik had come in contact with, but all he knew for sure was that a Tunguska Centaur Aggresso had disappeared. A mother was missing, a daughter kidnapped. Nolan's friend had asked him to help look for it. And why not? Nolan wasn't accomplishing anything else in Itani space. It even gave him a chance to use his storm radar extender a little.
But here she was, fingers and hands torn to pieces, staring into space. Staring at him. No more could be done for her. Her condition should improve, but only if she decided to care would it do so. Nolan wasn't sure why he came by the medical unit to see her, maybe it was for something to tell his concerned friend. Now that he had come, her judgmental gaze.. was it judgment?.. stabbed at something inside him. I've never seen her before, how can she think I'm at fault?
"Rest up maam... Vionka. They'll do their best to get her back. Then maybe you can call us for someplace to stay, instead of running all over the place. I know how to make it permanent, maybe... so your daughter doesn't make a ruckus." Nolan left a holographic business card on the table beside her bed. He'd said more than he should, and getting as personal as using her first name was perhaps a mistake. Must be something about that look on her face...
The reply from the Itani guard was a nod.
It hardly seemed fair to Nolan. He didn't know these people, or the story behind the whole mess. There was the datapad that Erik had come in contact with, but all he knew for sure was that a Tunguska Centaur Aggresso had disappeared. A mother was missing, a daughter kidnapped. Nolan's friend had asked him to help look for it. And why not? Nolan wasn't accomplishing anything else in Itani space. It even gave him a chance to use his storm radar extender a little.
But here she was, fingers and hands torn to pieces, staring into space. Staring at him. No more could be done for her. Her condition should improve, but only if she decided to care would it do so. Nolan wasn't sure why he came by the medical unit to see her, maybe it was for something to tell his concerned friend. Now that he had come, her judgmental gaze.. was it judgment?.. stabbed at something inside him. I've never seen her before, how can she think I'm at fault?
"Rest up maam... Vionka. They'll do their best to get her back. Then maybe you can call us for someplace to stay, instead of running all over the place. I know how to make it permanent, maybe... so your daughter doesn't make a ruckus." Nolan left a holographic business card on the table beside her bed. He'd said more than he should, and getting as personal as using her first name was perhaps a mistake. Must be something about that look on her face...
It had taken pulling some strings, but the little medlab that Lexicon had "given himself" was functional enough for his task. Being able to push through the requistions with forged Triumvirate seals has been child's play. His time spent drifting, between death and respawning, in the datastreams of Geira Watch had shown him several ways to create forged requisition forms, and he could approximate the station Commander's digital signature rather well by this time.
He looked up from his work. The subject, Camillia, was breathing steadily. Her vitals looked perfect, in fact, the only thing amiss was the assemblage of steel implements arrayed around her skull, a wicked assortment of scalpels, neural probes, and mechanical manipulators. He had not been able to extract any of the necessary neural stem cells yet, he would give it another try in the morning. In truth, he did not wish to harm the child, but it was looking more like he would have to kill her in order to extract his prize.
Lexicon hit the 'net, wondering how long it would be until the Dominion authorities discovered his disappearance. He had not reported back to his deck in some time; in fact, after "delivering" the datapad he'd led a cautious life, trying to stay out of sight until he could pry the secrets out of the girl.
A news headline caught his eye, yes, there it was: [ITAN] Mobilizing in Deneb. The story he'd been looking for. Additionally, he'd seen several high-priority flash traffic messages between Geira Watch and SkyCommand when he'd failed to report back in after 24 hours. As far as the Dominion knew, he'd last been sighted dueling Professor Mifune in a remote sector of Geira. They were... looking for him as well.
The small medlab, built around a storage bay in a little-used portion of the station, was all he had left. Lexicon glanced around his self-made prison and his eye came to rest on one of Camillia's possessions. It was buzzing. He rustled through her belongings and picked up what seemed to be... a bullet? It buzzed again in his hands, and he nearly dropped it. Examining it more closely, he confirmed that it WAS some kind of communication device, with a concealed communication port. He plugged it into the terminal, to see who or what was causing it to buzz.
An image of an Itani man appeared on the terminal's screen.
"Good, now let's continue with your maneuvering studies... Oh. Hello. May I ask who you are?" the face on the terminal said.
"I am Lexicon, herald of the Lady Serco and soon to be the leader of her holy warriors. And who might YOU be?" Lexicon inquired, although he had a pretty good idea already...
He looked up from his work. The subject, Camillia, was breathing steadily. Her vitals looked perfect, in fact, the only thing amiss was the assemblage of steel implements arrayed around her skull, a wicked assortment of scalpels, neural probes, and mechanical manipulators. He had not been able to extract any of the necessary neural stem cells yet, he would give it another try in the morning. In truth, he did not wish to harm the child, but it was looking more like he would have to kill her in order to extract his prize.
Lexicon hit the 'net, wondering how long it would be until the Dominion authorities discovered his disappearance. He had not reported back to his deck in some time; in fact, after "delivering" the datapad he'd led a cautious life, trying to stay out of sight until he could pry the secrets out of the girl.
A news headline caught his eye, yes, there it was: [ITAN] Mobilizing in Deneb. The story he'd been looking for. Additionally, he'd seen several high-priority flash traffic messages between Geira Watch and SkyCommand when he'd failed to report back in after 24 hours. As far as the Dominion knew, he'd last been sighted dueling Professor Mifune in a remote sector of Geira. They were... looking for him as well.
The small medlab, built around a storage bay in a little-used portion of the station, was all he had left. Lexicon glanced around his self-made prison and his eye came to rest on one of Camillia's possessions. It was buzzing. He rustled through her belongings and picked up what seemed to be... a bullet? It buzzed again in his hands, and he nearly dropped it. Examining it more closely, he confirmed that it WAS some kind of communication device, with a concealed communication port. He plugged it into the terminal, to see who or what was causing it to buzz.
An image of an Itani man appeared on the terminal's screen.
"Good, now let's continue with your maneuvering studies... Oh. Hello. May I ask who you are?" the face on the terminal said.
"I am Lexicon, herald of the Lady Serco and soon to be the leader of her holy warriors. And who might YOU be?" Lexicon inquired, although he had a pretty good idea already...
<ooc> Co-authored </ooc>
Deep in space, a computer was running a program. Conceived months earlier, it was made to interact with a few select people only.
An unexpected face on the communication system's video stream launched a few extra processes, making Deep Blue run a little louder than usual for this program.
"Lexicon... hrm... I do not have your name on file. Are you authorized to..."
The image flickered a bit. The program paused and a number of processes ended by launching another sub-program, after they had finally locked onto the unexpected face's identity.
The program was another artificial intelligence program--Deliberator--who's purpose was to analyse a databank of facts and interact as much as could be expected from a program built atop an aged AI language and runtime.
Nonetheless, Deliberator took over the Flight Trainer program that Camillia had left running days earlier.
The synthesized image on Lexicon' screen came alive again and continued the conversation...
"Hey, I remember you! You tried to kill me last time I saw you LeberMac!" said the program.
Lexicon raised an eyebrow.
"C'mon! It's me! Check your buddy list. Your favorite ex Commander! Mogul! I haven't changed one bit. How can you not remember?
- Mogul Velaio? Ah, yes, the insane Itani who attempted to close the Sedina wormhole. Now I remember.
- I don't recall that particular incident.
- Has your afterlife been empty, not being a servant of the Lady? As I recall you had not been baptized before your demise. How can you exist in the data stream?
- Well, you guessed it all right. I'm actually a program created by myself. Or rather, a sub program created by a program of myself. In fact, you could say th..." said the image before it froze on screen.
After a brief instant, Deliberator was back online and the conversation resumed...
"... you could say that I'm more of a... hrm... déjà-vu... " said the synthesized image of Mogul Velaio. The program resumed...
"You seem different than pictures and footage I have on file. What happened to you Leebs? Your hair? Have you combed? What's with the implants? Had another accident?
- Your program is acting up again, Itani. I am not LeberMac. The Great Lady has brought him to the fold and assimilated him. He is part of the data stream, now. And so shall all the Itani. It has been written.
- Oh I know, ignored the synthetic Mogul. Have you been sobering up again? You know how that makes you funny eh? Last time you did that, we ended up with Bess as Commander! You should still have a stash of Tequila in your office. I'd run to it if I were you, quipped the synthetic Mogul.
- Program, what is your purpose and what are you doing on this terminal? Is the communication system in the old ceramic bullet a viral program?
- Oh no Leebs. It's totally self-contained in Deep Blue. Quite secure in [ITAN]'s headquarters. You're simply remotely connected via the transceiver. Tell me, this transceiver is owned by Camillia... is she with you? Very few people have this. I was tutoring her when the communication was shut.
- Oh. She's with me all right. Here, look for yourself." replied Lexicon as he stepped aside, revealing the small child on the lab table, skull open and instruments peering at it.
"Hey... what's with the... what are you doing to... who are..." said the synthetic image of Mogul before it froze again.
Deliberator was having a bad day.
Upper Case's ceramic bullet started to vibrate, indicating a communication request from Deep Blue's secret programs.
Deep in space, a computer was running a program. Conceived months earlier, it was made to interact with a few select people only.
An unexpected face on the communication system's video stream launched a few extra processes, making Deep Blue run a little louder than usual for this program.
"Lexicon... hrm... I do not have your name on file. Are you authorized to..."
The image flickered a bit. The program paused and a number of processes ended by launching another sub-program, after they had finally locked onto the unexpected face's identity.
The program was another artificial intelligence program--Deliberator--who's purpose was to analyse a databank of facts and interact as much as could be expected from a program built atop an aged AI language and runtime.
Nonetheless, Deliberator took over the Flight Trainer program that Camillia had left running days earlier.
The synthesized image on Lexicon' screen came alive again and continued the conversation...
"Hey, I remember you! You tried to kill me last time I saw you LeberMac!" said the program.
Lexicon raised an eyebrow.
"C'mon! It's me! Check your buddy list. Your favorite ex Commander! Mogul! I haven't changed one bit. How can you not remember?
- Mogul Velaio? Ah, yes, the insane Itani who attempted to close the Sedina wormhole. Now I remember.
- I don't recall that particular incident.
- Has your afterlife been empty, not being a servant of the Lady? As I recall you had not been baptized before your demise. How can you exist in the data stream?
- Well, you guessed it all right. I'm actually a program created by myself. Or rather, a sub program created by a program of myself. In fact, you could say th..." said the image before it froze on screen.
After a brief instant, Deliberator was back online and the conversation resumed...
"... you could say that I'm more of a... hrm... déjà-vu... " said the synthesized image of Mogul Velaio. The program resumed...
"You seem different than pictures and footage I have on file. What happened to you Leebs? Your hair? Have you combed? What's with the implants? Had another accident?
- Your program is acting up again, Itani. I am not LeberMac. The Great Lady has brought him to the fold and assimilated him. He is part of the data stream, now. And so shall all the Itani. It has been written.
- Oh I know, ignored the synthetic Mogul. Have you been sobering up again? You know how that makes you funny eh? Last time you did that, we ended up with Bess as Commander! You should still have a stash of Tequila in your office. I'd run to it if I were you, quipped the synthetic Mogul.
- Program, what is your purpose and what are you doing on this terminal? Is the communication system in the old ceramic bullet a viral program?
- Oh no Leebs. It's totally self-contained in Deep Blue. Quite secure in [ITAN]'s headquarters. You're simply remotely connected via the transceiver. Tell me, this transceiver is owned by Camillia... is she with you? Very few people have this. I was tutoring her when the communication was shut.
- Oh. She's with me all right. Here, look for yourself." replied Lexicon as he stepped aside, revealing the small child on the lab table, skull open and instruments peering at it.
"Hey... what's with the... what are you doing to... who are..." said the synthetic image of Mogul before it froze again.
Deliberator was having a bad day.
Upper Case's ceramic bullet started to vibrate, indicating a communication request from Deep Blue's secret programs.
"Spike Mk.II"
upper case was nice and cosy in his deneb office. this level of comfort was nothing to ease his pain. his feeling of failure. of broken promise. his anguish to find camillia and viv, vionka velaio.
scouts were being dispatched in every corner of itani space, pirates and other questionable relations were being hired to keep an eye on the border. but already, rumors were circulating that the velaio were already in serco space. things were not looking good.
upper case was contemplating planet onia from his office window. it looked so far from where he stood. almost just a speckle in the sky. just like the sun on his home planet was. how he longed being in the field, with his father and brothers, for the harvest. removed from any responsibilities.
these are not your issues once said his father.
they were now.
upper case's eyes crossed the screen on his desk. displayed on it were varying calendar entries and notes, such as a reminder to have the council kick-start the next elections. damn. as if he had time to deal with that yet.
the screen also had a number of quick-access controls to reach people of interest. one of these was a direct line to [skv]: [itan]'s trustiest ally. distant cousins, ready to appear in case of need. like [itan] had for them at times. distant cousins becoming brother in arms in an instant. but calling them would be futile for now. where would he send them?
the anguish reappeared. or rather, questions stopped harassing him, letting the worries take over the focus of his attention. pulled out of his inner-thoughts, upper case felt his flight jacket pocket vibrate. he hated using this thing. upper case was spooked every time he used the transponder linking him to that artificial intelligence program that was smogul, a synthesized mogul, that this one had concocted before dying.
upper case proceeded in connecting the ceramic bullet to his terminal. the transponder-in-disguise took a few seconds and a spooky synthesized image of an overly-cheereful mogul velaio appeared.
"Hey! There you are! Been calling you for an eternity it seems, said smogul.
- you'll have to adjust your parameters program. it was a very decent response time for a human, replied upper case.
- Hey! You'll never believe who I just met! ignored smogul, in it's traditional way.
- who? eo himself? quipped upper case.
- I just found LeberMac!", ignored smogul.
upper case choked and gasped. his blood nearly froze as his heart skipped a couple of beats. retaking his senses, upper case realized this must have been another program fault.
"run a diagnostic you moronic piece of software. you're mixing reality with memories, said upper case.
- I just spoke to him! said smogul.
- uh-hu. been to a cadaver convention lately? check your facts. lebermac is dead." replied upper case.
the screen turned blank. like a shocked friend at the news of something terrible, the program seemed to have hung up. in fact, the artificial intelligence program behind it, deliberator, had crashed once again. upper case sighed and waited for the program to reboot itself.
after a few seconds, smogul was back online and continued the conversation as if nothing had happend:
"Here, replied smogul, take a look!" said smogul as it moved it's synthetic head reconstruction aside to display a video capture of it's earlier conversation.
upper case couldn't believe it. there he was. indeed. no wonder why smogul thought it was lebermac. lexicon shared most of his dna with that of lebermac. if not it's entirety. lexicon was exactly like lebermac was. or rather, exactly how lebermac would have been, if not for his destroyed agave liver. and serco implants, of course.
how upper case missed his friend. friend turned pirate and dead before he could attempt to bring some sense to the whole post-mogul mess.
"program, this is not lebermac. this is lexicon. the serco who stole lebermac's body. enslaved him and took over his brains." said upper case.
the image froze. for an instant, it felt like the synthetic mogul was pondering this information. no. it was deliberator again. upper case started to think he'd better start to use delicacy when talking to it.
back online again, smogul continued, ignoring the real essence of the previous statement:
"That's not all! Look: they had some kind of accident. See in the background? It's Camillia on some operating table!"
The video stream froze on screen, revealing the back of lexicon's room. indeed, there was camillia, cranial bone opened and instruments peering at her exposed brains. the image was shocking. no wonder deliberator had crashed again.
back online, after a few seconds of waiting for any input, smogul attempted to pick up the conversation: "It seems like LeberMac... Leber... Lexb" then crashed. a few seconds later, it made complete sentence:
"Looks like Lexicon is using Camillia's transponder.
- can you locate it? asked upper case.
- You know very well these communications are not traceable. I was not in a hurry to be found at the time I made them.
- is there any way we can locate the source? triangulation? round-trip delay calculation?
- That's only good to find distance in real space! This is using subspace frequencies. I can't fix this location. Void! I can't even tell where you are!
- listen program, camillia is in grave danger. we need to...".
upper case waited for deliberator to reboot smogul and then altered his statement:
"listen program camillia has school tomorrow. it's imperative we find her, said upper case.
- Well what can I do? I can't go door to door and ask people for directions can I? Oh. Wait. I actually can.
- what?!
- Listen buddy: I can look around the subnet where the transponder is connected and try to locate known machines or programs. Perhaps Leb... Lexb... Lexicon's machine has clues as to where they are.
- good. you do that. and get back to me as soon as you find any clue.
- Sure thing friend!" said smogul before it hung up. or crashed. all the same.
scouts were being dispatched in every corner of itani space, pirates and other questionable relations were being hired to keep an eye on the border. but already, rumors were circulating that the velaio were already in serco space. things were not looking good.
upper case was contemplating planet onia from his office window. it looked so far from where he stood. almost just a speckle in the sky. just like the sun on his home planet was. how he longed being in the field, with his father and brothers, for the harvest. removed from any responsibilities.
these are not your issues once said his father.
they were now.
upper case's eyes crossed the screen on his desk. displayed on it were varying calendar entries and notes, such as a reminder to have the council kick-start the next elections. damn. as if he had time to deal with that yet.
the screen also had a number of quick-access controls to reach people of interest. one of these was a direct line to [skv]: [itan]'s trustiest ally. distant cousins, ready to appear in case of need. like [itan] had for them at times. distant cousins becoming brother in arms in an instant. but calling them would be futile for now. where would he send them?
the anguish reappeared. or rather, questions stopped harassing him, letting the worries take over the focus of his attention. pulled out of his inner-thoughts, upper case felt his flight jacket pocket vibrate. he hated using this thing. upper case was spooked every time he used the transponder linking him to that artificial intelligence program that was smogul, a synthesized mogul, that this one had concocted before dying.
upper case proceeded in connecting the ceramic bullet to his terminal. the transponder-in-disguise took a few seconds and a spooky synthesized image of an overly-cheereful mogul velaio appeared.
"Hey! There you are! Been calling you for an eternity it seems, said smogul.
- you'll have to adjust your parameters program. it was a very decent response time for a human, replied upper case.
- Hey! You'll never believe who I just met! ignored smogul, in it's traditional way.
- who? eo himself? quipped upper case.
- I just found LeberMac!", ignored smogul.
upper case choked and gasped. his blood nearly froze as his heart skipped a couple of beats. retaking his senses, upper case realized this must have been another program fault.
"run a diagnostic you moronic piece of software. you're mixing reality with memories, said upper case.
- I just spoke to him! said smogul.
- uh-hu. been to a cadaver convention lately? check your facts. lebermac is dead." replied upper case.
the screen turned blank. like a shocked friend at the news of something terrible, the program seemed to have hung up. in fact, the artificial intelligence program behind it, deliberator, had crashed once again. upper case sighed and waited for the program to reboot itself.
after a few seconds, smogul was back online and continued the conversation as if nothing had happend:
"Here, replied smogul, take a look!" said smogul as it moved it's synthetic head reconstruction aside to display a video capture of it's earlier conversation.
upper case couldn't believe it. there he was. indeed. no wonder why smogul thought it was lebermac. lexicon shared most of his dna with that of lebermac. if not it's entirety. lexicon was exactly like lebermac was. or rather, exactly how lebermac would have been, if not for his destroyed agave liver. and serco implants, of course.
how upper case missed his friend. friend turned pirate and dead before he could attempt to bring some sense to the whole post-mogul mess.
"program, this is not lebermac. this is lexicon. the serco who stole lebermac's body. enslaved him and took over his brains." said upper case.
the image froze. for an instant, it felt like the synthetic mogul was pondering this information. no. it was deliberator again. upper case started to think he'd better start to use delicacy when talking to it.
back online again, smogul continued, ignoring the real essence of the previous statement:
"That's not all! Look: they had some kind of accident. See in the background? It's Camillia on some operating table!"
The video stream froze on screen, revealing the back of lexicon's room. indeed, there was camillia, cranial bone opened and instruments peering at her exposed brains. the image was shocking. no wonder deliberator had crashed again.
back online, after a few seconds of waiting for any input, smogul attempted to pick up the conversation: "It seems like LeberMac... Leber... Lexb" then crashed. a few seconds later, it made complete sentence:
"Looks like Lexicon is using Camillia's transponder.
- can you locate it? asked upper case.
- You know very well these communications are not traceable. I was not in a hurry to be found at the time I made them.
- is there any way we can locate the source? triangulation? round-trip delay calculation?
- That's only good to find distance in real space! This is using subspace frequencies. I can't fix this location. Void! I can't even tell where you are!
- listen program, camillia is in grave danger. we need to...".
upper case waited for deliberator to reboot smogul and then altered his statement:
"listen program camillia has school tomorrow. it's imperative we find her, said upper case.
- Well what can I do? I can't go door to door and ask people for directions can I? Oh. Wait. I actually can.
- what?!
- Listen buddy: I can look around the subnet where the transponder is connected and try to locate known machines or programs. Perhaps Leb... Lexb... Lexicon's machine has clues as to where they are.
- good. you do that. and get back to me as soon as you find any clue.
- Sure thing friend!" said smogul before it hung up. or crashed. all the same.