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I thought you were dead
"Where can we find him?" inquired a short man, his person brimming with anticipation. Everything was in place, and now it was time for execution of his plan, his masterpiece.
"You know, it could be as easy as staging a pirate attack" suggested a more average-looking member of the group.
It was the largest to speak next, but despite his imposing appearance his demeanor was the most passive of the three. "Out of the question. There is no way we can outdo all three in space."
"Well, there is another way. We go to where he will go. I'll contact you when I have something" the second speaker promised.
-
Mrs. Nolan Faux was deep within the most suspenseful chapter of her most recent reading selection when a knock at the door distracted her. With a sigh, she put down the book and went to take a look.
A casual glance told her that it was her husband at the door, and she granted entry without thinking it through. Her husband would have no issue with opening the door himself, as he knew the code- but the man outside had approached like a visitor. As the man stepped into the room, she felt as if an icy hand gripped her spine. "Nolan!"
"You were expecting?"
The redhead couldn't believe her eyes. Nolan was standing in front of her. Not the man to whom she was now married, but the clone version she had originally fallen in love with. As his wife, it was easy for her to tell the difference. Clone number two was shorter than her Vehement, a lot closer to the human end of the scale as it opposed the Serco augmented end. Namely, she and 'Clone Two' were the same height. "But you're-"
"Dead? Who told you that?" Nolan glared at her accusingly.
"Well you- er, the man you're copied from-" she stammered, speaking faster than her mind was working.
He interrupted with anger and sarcasm "How convenient. He tells you that I am dead and gone, and you start a life with him as if I don't even exist. There's devotion for you."
"Nolan please, I-" her plea was cut off as the man before her knocked her from her feet with a backhand blow.
-
As they had so many other days, Mick's thoughts drifted similarly to his ship. The mind and the ship belonging to the man hung listlessly in Sedina B-8 surrounded on all sides by silence and nothing. Then a burst of light signaling an arriving vessel put an end to the sector's indolence.
A quick burst of radio activity further wrenched Mick from his meditation. "All hail pancakes as the ultimate breakfast food. Wouldn't you agree, Mick?"
Pancakes? I thought he was dead. Mick flipped his ship to face toward the rapidly approaching vessel of his old friend and former guildmate. The hailing Corvus Vulturius was already at full turbo and on a collision course. "You don't waste any time do you?" Mick replied rhetorically.
-
[1] <Niki> HALLO
[1] <PancakesOfFluffy> fight yu at the ice roid
[1] <Niki> 'kay
Two Corvus-made vultures joined in combat in Sedina D-14, burning fresh scars in the side of a large cracked ice crystal with neutron bursts as they attempted to guide one another into a collision with the surface. Shooting one another was child's play; this game was for the less faint of heart.
-
It had been another hectic day for Arlina Solestia. The mountain of paperwork which defined her existence was a bit larger than manageable today, so dinner time was a gift from Eo himself. She snaked through the corridors toward the chow hall, easily threading her small frame around ITAN pilots engaged in conversation as she went. When one of the hatches she was passing by opened right beside her, it was hardly alarming. What tore the air from her lungs was the feeling of weightlessness immediately afterward as she felt herself thrown into the room. The hatch closed and locked, and as she peered about herself in the dark she was briefly grateful for a soft landing on what felt like a couch. "Who's there?"
The lights flicked on to a dim setting, and her eyes quickly scanned her assailant.
"Hello Blue-eyes."
"Burwell Everson" she observed, her tone of voice a mix of greeting and shock. Everson was dead. Vehement didn't even look that much like Everson, so this was clearly not him. How the hell was Everson standing here speaking to her?
"What are you doing here?" Arlina sat up slowly.
"It might be best if you don't talk."
"Hah! If you think I'm gonna just-" The assailant's fist struck her jaw with rather familiar placement; the force enough to flatten her to the couch all over again. Her head swam, and before her vision fully returned she felt a hand around her throat. She began to struggle, but what could she do against such an overpowering opponent? The last thing the young Itani remembered before the room went dark was the realization that her jaw wasn't working- again.
-
iry cruised through Pelatus scanning for signs of Serco CtC activity. He rarely got this sort of chance anymore, and sorely hoped to find a fight. His HUD alerted him to an approaching ship, and then flashed an additional alert. Target: Everson, flying a Serco Vulture Guardian at 100%, distance 4743m. Warning! IFF code match to deceased pilot.
That couldn't be. Everson was dead, and Vehement had his memories. iry daily thanked and cursed the new state of things. He missed the challenging foe, but was glad his less capable allies were more safe. But if this were Everson, there was no way iry would lose. Vehement was far better, having four times the experience of just the Everson portion. And I usually won against Everson iry reminded himself.
"Hey you! Yeah you in the red shirt!"
"I was waiting for you, iry."
"Fly on over here, I have some bread I need fixed up toaster."
The Valkyrie's HUD chirped and alerted iry to the second impossibility of the past minute, declaring that a second Everson SVG was now in radar range. iry hit the turbo and charged the nearer of the two, knowing now that whatever was going on, he needed to even the odds.
"I'm not toasting your bread for you, smurf scum."
-
MysticRogue strolled toward her 'Fatal Beauty' with a spring in her step. Things were looking up for CLM, even if Yoda was off far away again. A dead trader or two would give her just the lift she needed to tackle the rest of the day's more boring tasks.
As she approached the Marauder, a man stepped out from behind it. She did a double take.
"Everson? The *real* Everson? Today just got better!"
As her course changed slightly toward her old friend, another visitor stepped into view. Mystic stopped in her tracks. Pancakes too? But if these two are still around, that means- The pirate queen dropped prone just in time to evade a blaster shot that would have cratered her ribcage. Further off she identified the shooter, knowing already it would be Nolan Faux.
"I thought you were going to wait to do that until I got to say hello, Nolan."
"You know better Burwell, Nolan doesn't wait around."
"Pot calling the kettle black, Pancakes" Nolan called as he made his way closer using crates for cover.
-
The dockmaster at Fenos Outpost had what he would describe as a very stable job. He daily oversaw the movement of vast quantities of ore, and even a little commercial traffic. It was rare that the alarm went off directing him to immediately prioritize the launch of strike forces to defend the station, but accomplishing the task was drilled enough to be routine. On this day the alarm sounded.
A few levels up, traffic control was a madhouse.
"Radar reports a hostile contact, PancakesOfFluffy."
"Oh no.. that's the guy who attacked us without warning over a year ago. What is he doing here?"
"I heard he was dead."
"The memo letting us know he was dead is still on the bulletin board!"
"Oh.. oh gods no. Guys, the radar isn't working."
"What? What do you mean?!"
"It says there are a dozen of them. No, two dozen!"
Outside, the station guards were already expanding rubble. The first strike force was in the process of being pummeled by a hail of neutrons before they could fight back.
-
Strat darted to the left, and his opponent moved the nose of his own vessel to follow. FreedomBird let loose a barrage from his twin Ravens, perforating the foe beyond flyable condition, before changing his direction of movement sharply. Three sunflares shot past where FB had just been. Strat closed on the second enemy while FreedomBird fought his controls to get the new enemy in his sights. A second salvo of Sunflares succeeded where the first had not, but Strat made sure the pirate marauder paid for it.
"You alright FB?"
"I'm gonna need some attention, LT."
"Good job though, I'll meet you at the next wormhole."
[4357] This is Fenos Outpost in Odia, we are under attack! There are at least 20 hostiles, but we can't really count them..
Oh this ought to be good Strat thought in disbelief.
[4357] <Strat> Fenos Outpost, we're on the way but that doesn't make a lot of sense. Can you reconfirm your situation?
[4357] Outpost is under attack by multiple enemies with the same IFF code, PancakesOfFluffy. It is like an army of clones or something
(guild) <Strat> Hey Vehement, might I have a word?
(guild) <Vehement> I saw it too. You have got to be kidding me.
[4357] <Mick> I was fighting him earlier... I guess somebody exaggerated the rumors of his death.
-
The toddler looked up from her toys and recognized someone familiar. "No'an!" she squealed with glee, and took off in the direction of her mother. "Mama, No'an!"
The mother's voice came from the other room. "Oh, Nolan's here? Hitomi saw Nolan? Okay lets go say hi." Miharu stopped short in the doorway, recognizing a different Nolan than she had expected. Her mouth hung slightly open while her mind raced.
"You look well, Miharu" Nolan offered with sincerity.
Some of the color left Miharu's face. "Thank you" she whispered before calling behind her "Mor!"
"He's busy, Pinkmane." It was one of the many nicknames he had developed for her- in this case a simple commentary on her hair color.
"What? What do you mean?"
"Everson wanted to talk to him a while. I showed him the back door."
"And just what are you planning on doing with that?" Miharu fumed, referring to the gun in her visitor's hand.
-
Naoko was beyond walking quickly. She covered the distance between dispatch and the ready room at a full run, almost impacting the automatic door when it wasn't as fast as she would have liked.
"Nolan!"
Vehement stood and turned slightly.
"Three makes a conspiracy, and I have three reports already of you- er, your clones, attacking people they knew before they supposedly died. After this last one from Strat, I'm willing to bet there are a lot more. Tell me you know something, anything that can help here.."
"I could make a list of all my friends, we could try and find a pattern with who hasn't been hit yet."
"Okay that's a start, let me grab a PDA. Start calling everyone, but.."
"But what?"
"What if they don't answer?"
"Then we assume they aren't in a position to answer."
-
"Where is he?"
"Why should I tell you anything?" challenged Nolan's wife defiantly.
"Because you're my wife" reasoned the Nolan before her.
"You can't be- he never hit me and he never would!"
"Put yourself in my shoes. You'd lash out too if you were this betrayed. You've been cheating on me for a whole year without an ounce of remorse!"
The redhead lowered her eyes to stare at her knees, which she hugged to her chest. She hadn't even left the floor since he knocked her down.
"Space gods, look at you! You're even wearing his crap in front of me!" Nolan lunged, and tore the necklace she wore from her neck.
"No! Give that back!"
"Why? It's just a stupid little locket with-" Nolan frowned at it, noticing what was inside.
"Give it to me!"
"In Latos is he? And on the move."
The wife leapt to her feet and snatched for her prize. Nolan resisted, and the pair fell to the floor in a tangled heap beginning a struggle. "Give it BACK!"
"I need to know where he is!" They rolled one way and ran into the couch, then the other until they hit a chair, both seeking to claim the necklace.
Giving up on the use of force, the redhead stopped struggling and covered her head defensively. Relieved that he relaxed in response, she warned "He'll know if it isn't around my neck, and disable it again."
Nolan pondered for a moment. There was no reason it couldn't be a two-way link at all. "Alright, here."
She put it back on before looking at the man she fell for again. "Are you gonna get offa me?" she asked with a tad of sweetness in her tone.
"Is that what you want?"
"If you are who you say, I wouldn't dare."
Nolan took a deep breath before replying. "Well we need to go see the man who gave you this" he stated while tapping her necklace.
-
iry was on his third wave of head to head fights with Everson without even the time to let his power cell recharge. The armor on his X-1 couldn't take much more of this. He lined up a shot on the enemy and squeezed.
iry never knew whether or not he scored with the salvo, as he was distracted by the sickening sound of shots impacting his vessel from the side. He was maneuvering clear before his mind caught up, muscle memory taking over. A fourth? I didn't even see him creep up.
"I never thought I'd die in a place like this."
"No need, if you surrender."
"Never!" iry cried as he took a chance and engaged his turbo. If I can just make it for a few seconds... yes! Now they'll never catch me.
-
"Do you really think three guys against one girl is fair?" Mystic called to the three who were taking turns advancing on the last crate that stood between her and their weapons.
"A pirate can't speak on being fair. Your targets are nearly always unarmed" Nolan declared.
"Okay, can someone ELSE talk to me instead of the zealot?"
"I think it is more entertaining to watch you trade words with him" Pancakes informed her before blasting her crate a few times.
"You boys are in for it when everyone else gets here."
"If they aren't here by now, they are drunk or out pirating. Either way not helping you any."
Shit. "Alright alright alright! Stop shooting! What do you want?"
"Your life, pirate queen."
Mystic screamed angrily, leaning from behind her crate to fire a few more times than were effective in the direction of Everson.
-
Fenos Outpost was now under lockdown. One of the attacking pilots had flown his ship into the docking bay and begun shooting at parked ships and dockworkers alike. All entry and exits were sealed, and the intruder had been stopped by a courageous mechanic who rammed an atlas into the attacking corvult. After the collision, an army of bodies like ants had swarmed the vulture and dragged the pilot off to beat him with wrenches. This reaction by the Tunguska workers might have seemed extreme, except for the fear that visibly gripped the hearts of every last resident of the besieged station. Their foe was not unbeatable, but he showed no regard for his own life. And there were more just like him right outside. A lot more.
Strat's jump into the sector caused half of the pancakes to turn and charge. Strat turned and began to fly away from them. After about 4km, they went back to the station, so the Viper held his position.
(guild) <Strat> Vehement you need to get over here. This is going to take some serious flying
(guild) <Vehement> What about the other reports?
(guild) <Strat> Not a priority right now
(guild) <Vehement> Well I can get the station a break pretty easy without making the trip
[100] <Vehement> Man, I had a waffle today, and you know what? It was better than any pancake I ever had. I'm going to go make some in Latos D-2, if anybody wants one.
Strat watched in disbelief as three dozen or so Corvus vultures left Fenos Outpost as fast as they could, presumably headed to Latos.
-
[1] <Niki> RUNNAR!
[1] <PancakesOfFluffy> brb!
No one could make a Vulturius chase like Niki, and this time was no exception. The Skyyge Vakter legend fragmented the running vult as it was jumping, and then proceeded to jump to where it would have gone out of curiosity. The jump put Niki in the middle of dozens of Pancake vults. In a move that would never be fully explained, though many would try, Niki charged.
-
"What, no witty retort? No attempt to attack blinded by rage? Would you prefer we take this to Helios?"
"I hit Vehement a while ago, and he didn't seem to care. You're probably even worse Everson" Mor Isil replied, trying desperately to think of a way...
"Well you might want to try something, because Nolan's in there, and I know he's been waiting a long time to even the score with that pink manipulator."
Mor's eyes flared open as he rushed the unwelcome visitor. "You leave her alone!" So much for a plan.
Everson waited until Mor was dangerously close before sharply kicking the Itani's knee hard enough to reverse its angle. Mor screamed in agony, falling into Everson. The Serco stood him up to hit him in the face- cracking his cheekbone- and Mor tumbled sideways into the home's hot spring.
Miharu heard the scream and splash from inside. "What is he doing to Mor?"
"I don't know. Just like he doesn't know my plans for you" Nolan reported matter-of-factly.
"Nolan that isn't funny, what about Hitomi?"
"She's plenty cute enough to get adopted."
A mug flew across the room destined for Nolan's face, but he caught it easily.
"You're going to need to do better than that silly energy focus. Of course, that does mean we're done talking doesn't it?"
Mor crawled out of the water glaring hard at his enemy. Miharu was in danger, he had to do something. But what could he do? Before he could answer the question, the ground itself shook, accompanied by the sound a great many things breaking.
"What in the heck.."
"I think Nolan made her mad" Mor allowed himself a pained grin.
-
"Well I'm not sure why he's running off, but that just evened the odds a little don't you think boys?" Mystic jeered at Everson and Nolan as Pancakes ran back to his ship.
"He wasn't much help anyway" Everson stated blandly.
"Right, he was just slowing us down!" Nolan laughed as he darted still closer to Mystic's crate.
"Are you sure we can't talk about this? Arrest me or something, come on.." Mystic wasn't sure she'd accept that either, but maybe it would make them stop shooting for a little while.
"Hah, arrest. She must think we're station security!"
"Yeah that's pretty rich."
Mystic went to fire again, but her wrist got shot, causing her to throw the weapon out of reach. "Shit!"
Her two attackers stood up, and walked closer slowly. Unarmed, she would be so much easier to kill.
-
Vehement fights with 12 copies of Pancakes in Latos D-2 (stream-able)
High quality version (warning: 469.3MB! special thanks to Denji Royhu)
-
"Where is he now?"
Maharu checked her necklace and replied "Latos D-2 like he said." Her mood was very withdrawn, and she seemed resigned to follow wherever the man was flying her. The two Nolans would figure out what to do when they met. All she could do for now was wait.
The Nolan clone grumbled and opened a comm channel for a conference call. "Mrs. Faux is with me. How are the others doing?"
"We lost the Threes. Every last one. They swallowed that challenge whole" reported a man sounding like Everson.
A new voice spoke that the redhead didn't recognize. "Dammit why didn't you tell me he would do that."
"We did" Nolan countered.
"Well what now?" asked the unknown voice, "the goal was to avoid a confrontation in space entirely. He's forced us into this engagement."
"As long as we know where he is, we can try to arrange a meeting" suggested Everson.
"Get there and try it before all the Threes are destroyed. That is an awful lot of money."
-
Only 12? There were supposed to be dozens of them Vehement thought uneasily. He didn't have time to try and figure out why the others didn't make it before his comm system interrupted.
"Vehement, we need to talk."
"Who the hell are you?"
"You've been a busy man- blowing up all my expensive toys."
"I suppose that will suffice for who you are. Meet me in cargo storage 57 on Fenhall Mining in 30 minutes. Bring all the clones you've made. They have a year of events to catch up on, and I really hate repeating myself."
"That.. is a generous offer. We will be there."
Thirty minutes was not a lot of time. Fortunately, Vehement didn't need a great deal. The ore he had stored in cargo 57 didn't need to be moved- he really hadn't traded in over a year and none of it was worth anything. The irony of his ownership of cargo space he would never use struck Vehement briefly as he picked up a single crate he might need for the meeting and made his way to Azek.
-
When Arlina woke, she had a splitting headache. With great effort, she turned her head in order to make sure she was alone. Satisfied, she tried to sit up. When she discovered, one muscle group at a time, that she couldn't move, and remembered painfully that she couldn't speak, all that was left for her to do was feel her tears as they rolled freely from her eyes.
The security team that found her a couple hours later hurriedly wrapped her in a blanket, because her shirt was torn. They couldn't ask what happened, and she couldn't remember let alone form the words to tell them.
-
Mystic was trying to gauge how long she had to live by how loud the footsteps were that were closing in on her refuge. Then both men stopped, one of them having received a message on his communicator.
"Abort and head to Azek, more instructions to follow" read Everson aloud.
"Aw hell, we're so close!"
The two men turned and walked back to their ships. Mystic breathed a sigh of relief and was instantly hit by a massive wave of fatigue as the adrenaline level in her blood took a nose dive.
-
"You came for me, don't turn your back!" Mor screamed as Everson made his way toward the house.
"I'm no machine, I'll be back after I check on my brother." He didn't get that far, as his communicator delivered him the same message every other clone had received. Without a word, Everson left.
Mor crawled into the house seeking his wife. Reaching the main room, he froze. "Are you okay?"
Miharu was in the center of the room on one knee holding Hitomi close. The furniture was shoved away from her in every direction, including the coffee table which had apparently crushed her attacker's skull against the wall. Opening her eyes at the sound of her husband's voice, she witnessed her panic-driven handiwork. Mortified, she cried out unable to form words. Her body voided the contents of her stomach and abandoned the effort of being vertical. Miharu began to sob uncontrollably as her shoulder met the floor. Her daughter grabbed her arm in an attempt to help, on the verge of tears at the sight of her mother in such a condition.
Mor crossed the room as fast as his elbows would move him, wrapping both of his treasures in his arms. "It's okay, it's okay" he soothed, unable to think clearly enough to know how silly it sounded.
-
Eleven assorted Nolan and Everson clones filed into cargo 57, followed by Vehement's wife, and a nerdy looking Itani man with oversized eyes. He was the one who had made the call to Vehement earlier- which became apparent when he spoke.
"Well, we are all here."
Vehement was rather shocked. Not one report had mentioned clones other than Three, and here before him stood a small army of Twos and Ones. He met his wife's eyes for just a moment, and both felt the other's relief. "Where are the Threes? You can't tell me I got them all."
It was the meddler who answered, clearly the one in charge. "I'm not sure. Those who didn't make it to the fight with you must have met some other calamity along the way."
"Before we continue.. I'd like you to permit my wife to leave." The man nodded. Vehement approached his wife and spoke to her in a low voice. "Take my ship, I'm flying a Superlight. Go directly to your sister's home. I love you, Red."
She grabbed hold of his flight suit and tugged, pulling herself closer more effectively than she moved him. Vehement got the hint and kissed her. "I love you too- don't take too long." And with that, she was gone.
The moment the door closed, Vehement turned to stare down the group of Everson copies. "I think I get it now, one copy to attack any friend of any of the clones. So one of the Twos visited my wife, and.. I guess one of each paid a visit to MysticRogue?"
"Very astute" commented the Itani man.
"So which of you was sent to Solestia?" Several glances were exchanged between those in the room before an Everson raised his hand. Vehement got right in his face. "I know exactly what you did." A knife, most often used for carving model ships from blocks of wood, found its way into the guts of Arlina's attacker, piercing flesh and bone alike.
Everyone in the room but Vehement drew a sidearm in one motion. Vehement let go of his victim and let him fall onto the deck in agony.
"That was a poor choice Vehement. I was hoping you'd be more useful."
The pilot of three memories turned his eyes to the Itani once again. "What I don't understand is why."
"Since you'll never live to tell anyone, I'll humor you." The man helped himself to a seat on a crate of Ferric ore. "I'm an instrument of my nation. You've always suspected that we use propaganda as our weapon against the Dominion. How right you are. Imagine it- the program you participated in, that created all of these, that made you strong! So strong, a leader among the Serco, a man to be feared and respected. Honorable and terrible all at once. That program, and the triumph for the Dominion that it is, turns to our victory through my efforts. Every clone here, wreaking havoc in ways only Lecter and Lexicon ever had before. Then when the time is right, we expose the program, and lay the full blame for the suffering of known space at the feet of the Dominion."
Vehement fumed, and only formed words in reply with great effort through clenched teeth. "You are the true evil of our time."
The operative laughed. "I love the irony of this. You, the man to start a campaign with the intent to expose people like me, my greatest victory! Do you know how long it took to infiltrate your program, how much effort it took to conceal what I was doing? But in the end, it all was worth it! You are the greatest weapon the Itani have ever possessed, and the Serco created you for our use!"
"Your lies are so loathsome that I can't even think of words!"
"Hahahah! Kill him! Hahah!" The master of lies could no longer control himself.
Ten clones aimed their weapons at the man from which they were copied and depressed the trigger. Vehement's knees gave out and he sprawled out on the deck, beyond hope of recovery after only their first barrage.
"But you-" he struggled to prop himself up on one elbow, with something grasped in his hand. "failed to anticipate my will to fight!"
"Fight? You're already dead, what can you possibly do to fight back?"
"Eläköön todenperäisyys!" Vehement labored to force through his lips, then depressed the button on the detonator in his hand.
The bomb lacked much in concussive force and flames alike, but made up for both in fine shrapnel. The crate Vehement picked up on his way to Azek was in essence an oversized hand grenade, and it easily turned every living thing in cargo 57 into scraps of meat. By the time an Orion security team arrived to investigate, there was not a single survivor to tell the tale.
"You know, it could be as easy as staging a pirate attack" suggested a more average-looking member of the group.
It was the largest to speak next, but despite his imposing appearance his demeanor was the most passive of the three. "Out of the question. There is no way we can outdo all three in space."
"Well, there is another way. We go to where he will go. I'll contact you when I have something" the second speaker promised.
-
Mrs. Nolan Faux was deep within the most suspenseful chapter of her most recent reading selection when a knock at the door distracted her. With a sigh, she put down the book and went to take a look.
A casual glance told her that it was her husband at the door, and she granted entry without thinking it through. Her husband would have no issue with opening the door himself, as he knew the code- but the man outside had approached like a visitor. As the man stepped into the room, she felt as if an icy hand gripped her spine. "Nolan!"
"You were expecting?"
The redhead couldn't believe her eyes. Nolan was standing in front of her. Not the man to whom she was now married, but the clone version she had originally fallen in love with. As his wife, it was easy for her to tell the difference. Clone number two was shorter than her Vehement, a lot closer to the human end of the scale as it opposed the Serco augmented end. Namely, she and 'Clone Two' were the same height. "But you're-"
"Dead? Who told you that?" Nolan glared at her accusingly.
"Well you- er, the man you're copied from-" she stammered, speaking faster than her mind was working.
He interrupted with anger and sarcasm "How convenient. He tells you that I am dead and gone, and you start a life with him as if I don't even exist. There's devotion for you."
"Nolan please, I-" her plea was cut off as the man before her knocked her from her feet with a backhand blow.
-
As they had so many other days, Mick's thoughts drifted similarly to his ship. The mind and the ship belonging to the man hung listlessly in Sedina B-8 surrounded on all sides by silence and nothing. Then a burst of light signaling an arriving vessel put an end to the sector's indolence.
A quick burst of radio activity further wrenched Mick from his meditation. "All hail pancakes as the ultimate breakfast food. Wouldn't you agree, Mick?"
Pancakes? I thought he was dead. Mick flipped his ship to face toward the rapidly approaching vessel of his old friend and former guildmate. The hailing Corvus Vulturius was already at full turbo and on a collision course. "You don't waste any time do you?" Mick replied rhetorically.
-
[1] <Niki> HALLO
[1] <PancakesOfFluffy> fight yu at the ice roid
[1] <Niki> 'kay
Two Corvus-made vultures joined in combat in Sedina D-14, burning fresh scars in the side of a large cracked ice crystal with neutron bursts as they attempted to guide one another into a collision with the surface. Shooting one another was child's play; this game was for the less faint of heart.
-
It had been another hectic day for Arlina Solestia. The mountain of paperwork which defined her existence was a bit larger than manageable today, so dinner time was a gift from Eo himself. She snaked through the corridors toward the chow hall, easily threading her small frame around ITAN pilots engaged in conversation as she went. When one of the hatches she was passing by opened right beside her, it was hardly alarming. What tore the air from her lungs was the feeling of weightlessness immediately afterward as she felt herself thrown into the room. The hatch closed and locked, and as she peered about herself in the dark she was briefly grateful for a soft landing on what felt like a couch. "Who's there?"
The lights flicked on to a dim setting, and her eyes quickly scanned her assailant.
"Hello Blue-eyes."
"Burwell Everson" she observed, her tone of voice a mix of greeting and shock. Everson was dead. Vehement didn't even look that much like Everson, so this was clearly not him. How the hell was Everson standing here speaking to her?
"What are you doing here?" Arlina sat up slowly.
"It might be best if you don't talk."
"Hah! If you think I'm gonna just-" The assailant's fist struck her jaw with rather familiar placement; the force enough to flatten her to the couch all over again. Her head swam, and before her vision fully returned she felt a hand around her throat. She began to struggle, but what could she do against such an overpowering opponent? The last thing the young Itani remembered before the room went dark was the realization that her jaw wasn't working- again.
-
iry cruised through Pelatus scanning for signs of Serco CtC activity. He rarely got this sort of chance anymore, and sorely hoped to find a fight. His HUD alerted him to an approaching ship, and then flashed an additional alert. Target: Everson, flying a Serco Vulture Guardian at 100%, distance 4743m. Warning! IFF code match to deceased pilot.
That couldn't be. Everson was dead, and Vehement had his memories. iry daily thanked and cursed the new state of things. He missed the challenging foe, but was glad his less capable allies were more safe. But if this were Everson, there was no way iry would lose. Vehement was far better, having four times the experience of just the Everson portion. And I usually won against Everson iry reminded himself.
"Hey you! Yeah you in the red shirt!"
"I was waiting for you, iry."
"Fly on over here, I have some bread I need fixed up toaster."
The Valkyrie's HUD chirped and alerted iry to the second impossibility of the past minute, declaring that a second Everson SVG was now in radar range. iry hit the turbo and charged the nearer of the two, knowing now that whatever was going on, he needed to even the odds.
"I'm not toasting your bread for you, smurf scum."
-
MysticRogue strolled toward her 'Fatal Beauty' with a spring in her step. Things were looking up for CLM, even if Yoda was off far away again. A dead trader or two would give her just the lift she needed to tackle the rest of the day's more boring tasks.
As she approached the Marauder, a man stepped out from behind it. She did a double take.
"Everson? The *real* Everson? Today just got better!"
As her course changed slightly toward her old friend, another visitor stepped into view. Mystic stopped in her tracks. Pancakes too? But if these two are still around, that means- The pirate queen dropped prone just in time to evade a blaster shot that would have cratered her ribcage. Further off she identified the shooter, knowing already it would be Nolan Faux.
"I thought you were going to wait to do that until I got to say hello, Nolan."
"You know better Burwell, Nolan doesn't wait around."
"Pot calling the kettle black, Pancakes" Nolan called as he made his way closer using crates for cover.
-
The dockmaster at Fenos Outpost had what he would describe as a very stable job. He daily oversaw the movement of vast quantities of ore, and even a little commercial traffic. It was rare that the alarm went off directing him to immediately prioritize the launch of strike forces to defend the station, but accomplishing the task was drilled enough to be routine. On this day the alarm sounded.
A few levels up, traffic control was a madhouse.
"Radar reports a hostile contact, PancakesOfFluffy."
"Oh no.. that's the guy who attacked us without warning over a year ago. What is he doing here?"
"I heard he was dead."
"The memo letting us know he was dead is still on the bulletin board!"
"Oh.. oh gods no. Guys, the radar isn't working."
"What? What do you mean?!"
"It says there are a dozen of them. No, two dozen!"
Outside, the station guards were already expanding rubble. The first strike force was in the process of being pummeled by a hail of neutrons before they could fight back.
-
Strat darted to the left, and his opponent moved the nose of his own vessel to follow. FreedomBird let loose a barrage from his twin Ravens, perforating the foe beyond flyable condition, before changing his direction of movement sharply. Three sunflares shot past where FB had just been. Strat closed on the second enemy while FreedomBird fought his controls to get the new enemy in his sights. A second salvo of Sunflares succeeded where the first had not, but Strat made sure the pirate marauder paid for it.
"You alright FB?"
"I'm gonna need some attention, LT."
"Good job though, I'll meet you at the next wormhole."
[4357] This is Fenos Outpost in Odia, we are under attack! There are at least 20 hostiles, but we can't really count them..
Oh this ought to be good Strat thought in disbelief.
[4357] <Strat> Fenos Outpost, we're on the way but that doesn't make a lot of sense. Can you reconfirm your situation?
[4357] Outpost is under attack by multiple enemies with the same IFF code, PancakesOfFluffy. It is like an army of clones or something
(guild) <Strat> Hey Vehement, might I have a word?
(guild) <Vehement> I saw it too. You have got to be kidding me.
[4357] <Mick> I was fighting him earlier... I guess somebody exaggerated the rumors of his death.
-
The toddler looked up from her toys and recognized someone familiar. "No'an!" she squealed with glee, and took off in the direction of her mother. "Mama, No'an!"
The mother's voice came from the other room. "Oh, Nolan's here? Hitomi saw Nolan? Okay lets go say hi." Miharu stopped short in the doorway, recognizing a different Nolan than she had expected. Her mouth hung slightly open while her mind raced.
"You look well, Miharu" Nolan offered with sincerity.
Some of the color left Miharu's face. "Thank you" she whispered before calling behind her "Mor!"
"He's busy, Pinkmane." It was one of the many nicknames he had developed for her- in this case a simple commentary on her hair color.
"What? What do you mean?"
"Everson wanted to talk to him a while. I showed him the back door."
"And just what are you planning on doing with that?" Miharu fumed, referring to the gun in her visitor's hand.
-
Naoko was beyond walking quickly. She covered the distance between dispatch and the ready room at a full run, almost impacting the automatic door when it wasn't as fast as she would have liked.
"Nolan!"
Vehement stood and turned slightly.
"Three makes a conspiracy, and I have three reports already of you- er, your clones, attacking people they knew before they supposedly died. After this last one from Strat, I'm willing to bet there are a lot more. Tell me you know something, anything that can help here.."
"I could make a list of all my friends, we could try and find a pattern with who hasn't been hit yet."
"Okay that's a start, let me grab a PDA. Start calling everyone, but.."
"But what?"
"What if they don't answer?"
"Then we assume they aren't in a position to answer."
-
"Where is he?"
"Why should I tell you anything?" challenged Nolan's wife defiantly.
"Because you're my wife" reasoned the Nolan before her.
"You can't be- he never hit me and he never would!"
"Put yourself in my shoes. You'd lash out too if you were this betrayed. You've been cheating on me for a whole year without an ounce of remorse!"
The redhead lowered her eyes to stare at her knees, which she hugged to her chest. She hadn't even left the floor since he knocked her down.
"Space gods, look at you! You're even wearing his crap in front of me!" Nolan lunged, and tore the necklace she wore from her neck.
"No! Give that back!"
"Why? It's just a stupid little locket with-" Nolan frowned at it, noticing what was inside.
"Give it to me!"
"In Latos is he? And on the move."
The wife leapt to her feet and snatched for her prize. Nolan resisted, and the pair fell to the floor in a tangled heap beginning a struggle. "Give it BACK!"
"I need to know where he is!" They rolled one way and ran into the couch, then the other until they hit a chair, both seeking to claim the necklace.
Giving up on the use of force, the redhead stopped struggling and covered her head defensively. Relieved that he relaxed in response, she warned "He'll know if it isn't around my neck, and disable it again."
Nolan pondered for a moment. There was no reason it couldn't be a two-way link at all. "Alright, here."
She put it back on before looking at the man she fell for again. "Are you gonna get offa me?" she asked with a tad of sweetness in her tone.
"Is that what you want?"
"If you are who you say, I wouldn't dare."
Nolan took a deep breath before replying. "Well we need to go see the man who gave you this" he stated while tapping her necklace.
-
iry was on his third wave of head to head fights with Everson without even the time to let his power cell recharge. The armor on his X-1 couldn't take much more of this. He lined up a shot on the enemy and squeezed.
iry never knew whether or not he scored with the salvo, as he was distracted by the sickening sound of shots impacting his vessel from the side. He was maneuvering clear before his mind caught up, muscle memory taking over. A fourth? I didn't even see him creep up.
"I never thought I'd die in a place like this."
"No need, if you surrender."
"Never!" iry cried as he took a chance and engaged his turbo. If I can just make it for a few seconds... yes! Now they'll never catch me.
-
"Do you really think three guys against one girl is fair?" Mystic called to the three who were taking turns advancing on the last crate that stood between her and their weapons.
"A pirate can't speak on being fair. Your targets are nearly always unarmed" Nolan declared.
"Okay, can someone ELSE talk to me instead of the zealot?"
"I think it is more entertaining to watch you trade words with him" Pancakes informed her before blasting her crate a few times.
"You boys are in for it when everyone else gets here."
"If they aren't here by now, they are drunk or out pirating. Either way not helping you any."
Shit. "Alright alright alright! Stop shooting! What do you want?"
"Your life, pirate queen."
Mystic screamed angrily, leaning from behind her crate to fire a few more times than were effective in the direction of Everson.
-
Fenos Outpost was now under lockdown. One of the attacking pilots had flown his ship into the docking bay and begun shooting at parked ships and dockworkers alike. All entry and exits were sealed, and the intruder had been stopped by a courageous mechanic who rammed an atlas into the attacking corvult. After the collision, an army of bodies like ants had swarmed the vulture and dragged the pilot off to beat him with wrenches. This reaction by the Tunguska workers might have seemed extreme, except for the fear that visibly gripped the hearts of every last resident of the besieged station. Their foe was not unbeatable, but he showed no regard for his own life. And there were more just like him right outside. A lot more.
Strat's jump into the sector caused half of the pancakes to turn and charge. Strat turned and began to fly away from them. After about 4km, they went back to the station, so the Viper held his position.
(guild) <Strat> Vehement you need to get over here. This is going to take some serious flying
(guild) <Vehement> What about the other reports?
(guild) <Strat> Not a priority right now
(guild) <Vehement> Well I can get the station a break pretty easy without making the trip
[100] <Vehement> Man, I had a waffle today, and you know what? It was better than any pancake I ever had. I'm going to go make some in Latos D-2, if anybody wants one.
Strat watched in disbelief as three dozen or so Corvus vultures left Fenos Outpost as fast as they could, presumably headed to Latos.
-
[1] <Niki> RUNNAR!
[1] <PancakesOfFluffy> brb!
No one could make a Vulturius chase like Niki, and this time was no exception. The Skyyge Vakter legend fragmented the running vult as it was jumping, and then proceeded to jump to where it would have gone out of curiosity. The jump put Niki in the middle of dozens of Pancake vults. In a move that would never be fully explained, though many would try, Niki charged.
-
"What, no witty retort? No attempt to attack blinded by rage? Would you prefer we take this to Helios?"
"I hit Vehement a while ago, and he didn't seem to care. You're probably even worse Everson" Mor Isil replied, trying desperately to think of a way...
"Well you might want to try something, because Nolan's in there, and I know he's been waiting a long time to even the score with that pink manipulator."
Mor's eyes flared open as he rushed the unwelcome visitor. "You leave her alone!" So much for a plan.
Everson waited until Mor was dangerously close before sharply kicking the Itani's knee hard enough to reverse its angle. Mor screamed in agony, falling into Everson. The Serco stood him up to hit him in the face- cracking his cheekbone- and Mor tumbled sideways into the home's hot spring.
Miharu heard the scream and splash from inside. "What is he doing to Mor?"
"I don't know. Just like he doesn't know my plans for you" Nolan reported matter-of-factly.
"Nolan that isn't funny, what about Hitomi?"
"She's plenty cute enough to get adopted."
A mug flew across the room destined for Nolan's face, but he caught it easily.
"You're going to need to do better than that silly energy focus. Of course, that does mean we're done talking doesn't it?"
Mor crawled out of the water glaring hard at his enemy. Miharu was in danger, he had to do something. But what could he do? Before he could answer the question, the ground itself shook, accompanied by the sound a great many things breaking.
"What in the heck.."
"I think Nolan made her mad" Mor allowed himself a pained grin.
-
"Well I'm not sure why he's running off, but that just evened the odds a little don't you think boys?" Mystic jeered at Everson and Nolan as Pancakes ran back to his ship.
"He wasn't much help anyway" Everson stated blandly.
"Right, he was just slowing us down!" Nolan laughed as he darted still closer to Mystic's crate.
"Are you sure we can't talk about this? Arrest me or something, come on.." Mystic wasn't sure she'd accept that either, but maybe it would make them stop shooting for a little while.
"Hah, arrest. She must think we're station security!"
"Yeah that's pretty rich."
Mystic went to fire again, but her wrist got shot, causing her to throw the weapon out of reach. "Shit!"
Her two attackers stood up, and walked closer slowly. Unarmed, she would be so much easier to kill.
-
Vehement fights with 12 copies of Pancakes in Latos D-2 (stream-able)
High quality version (warning: 469.3MB! special thanks to Denji Royhu)
-
"Where is he now?"
Maharu checked her necklace and replied "Latos D-2 like he said." Her mood was very withdrawn, and she seemed resigned to follow wherever the man was flying her. The two Nolans would figure out what to do when they met. All she could do for now was wait.
The Nolan clone grumbled and opened a comm channel for a conference call. "Mrs. Faux is with me. How are the others doing?"
"We lost the Threes. Every last one. They swallowed that challenge whole" reported a man sounding like Everson.
A new voice spoke that the redhead didn't recognize. "Dammit why didn't you tell me he would do that."
"We did" Nolan countered.
"Well what now?" asked the unknown voice, "the goal was to avoid a confrontation in space entirely. He's forced us into this engagement."
"As long as we know where he is, we can try to arrange a meeting" suggested Everson.
"Get there and try it before all the Threes are destroyed. That is an awful lot of money."
-
Only 12? There were supposed to be dozens of them Vehement thought uneasily. He didn't have time to try and figure out why the others didn't make it before his comm system interrupted.
"Vehement, we need to talk."
"Who the hell are you?"
"You've been a busy man- blowing up all my expensive toys."
"I suppose that will suffice for who you are. Meet me in cargo storage 57 on Fenhall Mining in 30 minutes. Bring all the clones you've made. They have a year of events to catch up on, and I really hate repeating myself."
"That.. is a generous offer. We will be there."
Thirty minutes was not a lot of time. Fortunately, Vehement didn't need a great deal. The ore he had stored in cargo 57 didn't need to be moved- he really hadn't traded in over a year and none of it was worth anything. The irony of his ownership of cargo space he would never use struck Vehement briefly as he picked up a single crate he might need for the meeting and made his way to Azek.
-
When Arlina woke, she had a splitting headache. With great effort, she turned her head in order to make sure she was alone. Satisfied, she tried to sit up. When she discovered, one muscle group at a time, that she couldn't move, and remembered painfully that she couldn't speak, all that was left for her to do was feel her tears as they rolled freely from her eyes.
The security team that found her a couple hours later hurriedly wrapped her in a blanket, because her shirt was torn. They couldn't ask what happened, and she couldn't remember let alone form the words to tell them.
-
Mystic was trying to gauge how long she had to live by how loud the footsteps were that were closing in on her refuge. Then both men stopped, one of them having received a message on his communicator.
"Abort and head to Azek, more instructions to follow" read Everson aloud.
"Aw hell, we're so close!"
The two men turned and walked back to their ships. Mystic breathed a sigh of relief and was instantly hit by a massive wave of fatigue as the adrenaline level in her blood took a nose dive.
-
"You came for me, don't turn your back!" Mor screamed as Everson made his way toward the house.
"I'm no machine, I'll be back after I check on my brother." He didn't get that far, as his communicator delivered him the same message every other clone had received. Without a word, Everson left.
Mor crawled into the house seeking his wife. Reaching the main room, he froze. "Are you okay?"
Miharu was in the center of the room on one knee holding Hitomi close. The furniture was shoved away from her in every direction, including the coffee table which had apparently crushed her attacker's skull against the wall. Opening her eyes at the sound of her husband's voice, she witnessed her panic-driven handiwork. Mortified, she cried out unable to form words. Her body voided the contents of her stomach and abandoned the effort of being vertical. Miharu began to sob uncontrollably as her shoulder met the floor. Her daughter grabbed her arm in an attempt to help, on the verge of tears at the sight of her mother in such a condition.
Mor crossed the room as fast as his elbows would move him, wrapping both of his treasures in his arms. "It's okay, it's okay" he soothed, unable to think clearly enough to know how silly it sounded.
-
Eleven assorted Nolan and Everson clones filed into cargo 57, followed by Vehement's wife, and a nerdy looking Itani man with oversized eyes. He was the one who had made the call to Vehement earlier- which became apparent when he spoke.
"Well, we are all here."
Vehement was rather shocked. Not one report had mentioned clones other than Three, and here before him stood a small army of Twos and Ones. He met his wife's eyes for just a moment, and both felt the other's relief. "Where are the Threes? You can't tell me I got them all."
It was the meddler who answered, clearly the one in charge. "I'm not sure. Those who didn't make it to the fight with you must have met some other calamity along the way."
"Before we continue.. I'd like you to permit my wife to leave." The man nodded. Vehement approached his wife and spoke to her in a low voice. "Take my ship, I'm flying a Superlight. Go directly to your sister's home. I love you, Red."
She grabbed hold of his flight suit and tugged, pulling herself closer more effectively than she moved him. Vehement got the hint and kissed her. "I love you too- don't take too long." And with that, she was gone.
The moment the door closed, Vehement turned to stare down the group of Everson copies. "I think I get it now, one copy to attack any friend of any of the clones. So one of the Twos visited my wife, and.. I guess one of each paid a visit to MysticRogue?"
"Very astute" commented the Itani man.
"So which of you was sent to Solestia?" Several glances were exchanged between those in the room before an Everson raised his hand. Vehement got right in his face. "I know exactly what you did." A knife, most often used for carving model ships from blocks of wood, found its way into the guts of Arlina's attacker, piercing flesh and bone alike.
Everyone in the room but Vehement drew a sidearm in one motion. Vehement let go of his victim and let him fall onto the deck in agony.
"That was a poor choice Vehement. I was hoping you'd be more useful."
The pilot of three memories turned his eyes to the Itani once again. "What I don't understand is why."
"Since you'll never live to tell anyone, I'll humor you." The man helped himself to a seat on a crate of Ferric ore. "I'm an instrument of my nation. You've always suspected that we use propaganda as our weapon against the Dominion. How right you are. Imagine it- the program you participated in, that created all of these, that made you strong! So strong, a leader among the Serco, a man to be feared and respected. Honorable and terrible all at once. That program, and the triumph for the Dominion that it is, turns to our victory through my efforts. Every clone here, wreaking havoc in ways only Lecter and Lexicon ever had before. Then when the time is right, we expose the program, and lay the full blame for the suffering of known space at the feet of the Dominion."
Vehement fumed, and only formed words in reply with great effort through clenched teeth. "You are the true evil of our time."
The operative laughed. "I love the irony of this. You, the man to start a campaign with the intent to expose people like me, my greatest victory! Do you know how long it took to infiltrate your program, how much effort it took to conceal what I was doing? But in the end, it all was worth it! You are the greatest weapon the Itani have ever possessed, and the Serco created you for our use!"
"Your lies are so loathsome that I can't even think of words!"
"Hahahah! Kill him! Hahah!" The master of lies could no longer control himself.
Ten clones aimed their weapons at the man from which they were copied and depressed the trigger. Vehement's knees gave out and he sprawled out on the deck, beyond hope of recovery after only their first barrage.
"But you-" he struggled to prop himself up on one elbow, with something grasped in his hand. "failed to anticipate my will to fight!"
"Fight? You're already dead, what can you possibly do to fight back?"
"Eläköön todenperäisyys!" Vehement labored to force through his lips, then depressed the button on the detonator in his hand.
The bomb lacked much in concussive force and flames alike, but made up for both in fine shrapnel. The crate Vehement picked up on his way to Azek was in essence an oversized hand grenade, and it easily turned every living thing in cargo 57 into scraps of meat. By the time an Orion security team arrived to investigate, there was not a single survivor to tell the tale.
OOC:
If you were named in this thread, please do not feel obligated to do so, but I would welcome it if you posted the aftermath of your part in the story.
P.S. Yes, Vehement is actually dead. I will be playing new characters.
If you were named in this thread, please do not feel obligated to do so, but I would welcome it if you posted the aftermath of your part in the story.
P.S. Yes, Vehement is actually dead. I will be playing new characters.
Ghost eased the throttle back on his unmarked shuttle and prepared to make his final jump. Niki had reported an engagement in Sedina with one Pancakes of Fluffy immediately prior to breaking off contact. Niki breaking off communications was nothing new, but the name of his opponent had been enough to arouse Ghost's suspicions.
Running around in Sedina in a shuttle wasn't exactly the greatest idea, but some of his recent activities had caused the Itani government to raise an eyebrow and they had put his personal fighters on lockdown pending an investigation. This sort of thing had become routine by now, with certain bits of information "dissappearing" right before they were needed. It was good to have friends in the right places. There was a portion of his career that the Itani higher ups would be more comfortable not knowing.
The shuttle shot out of space into the middle of a debris field. Scattered ship parts and neutron blasters began bouncing off the hull as Ghost manuvered the shuttle through the carnage. Niki had definitely been here. Suddenly, a warning light went off indicating a life sign. He whipped the shuttle around and punched his turbo, bits and pieces of scrap metal pinging off the cockpit. He found Niki floating amidst the wreckage of what appeared to be a vulture impaling a second vulture with its fuselage. Ghost immediately pulled him aboard. He saw Niki's wide eyes and urgency to speak underneath his mask. Ghost undid the straps as quickly as he could and ripped the mask off.
"Oh my god..." Niki breathed.
"What?" Ghost asked.
"That was... so... much... fun." Niki giggled shortly before losing conciousness.
Running around in Sedina in a shuttle wasn't exactly the greatest idea, but some of his recent activities had caused the Itani government to raise an eyebrow and they had put his personal fighters on lockdown pending an investigation. This sort of thing had become routine by now, with certain bits of information "dissappearing" right before they were needed. It was good to have friends in the right places. There was a portion of his career that the Itani higher ups would be more comfortable not knowing.
The shuttle shot out of space into the middle of a debris field. Scattered ship parts and neutron blasters began bouncing off the hull as Ghost manuvered the shuttle through the carnage. Niki had definitely been here. Suddenly, a warning light went off indicating a life sign. He whipped the shuttle around and punched his turbo, bits and pieces of scrap metal pinging off the cockpit. He found Niki floating amidst the wreckage of what appeared to be a vulture impaling a second vulture with its fuselage. Ghost immediately pulled him aboard. He saw Niki's wide eyes and urgency to speak underneath his mask. Ghost undid the straps as quickly as he could and ripped the mask off.
"Oh my god..." Niki breathed.
"What?" Ghost asked.
"That was... so... much... fun." Niki giggled shortly before losing conciousness.
added high quality version of the fight, thanks denji!
Excerpt from an Orion Heavy Manufacturing news report...
Investigators are sifting through the grisly remains of several victims today after a shrapnel-type bomb went off in the cargo storage area of Fenhall Mining station in Azek. The source of the blast is still under investigation. Only one of the victims has been identified thus far. Eleven of the remaining twelve bear almost identical DNA and are thought to be clones. The thirteenth and final victim's identity has not been found in any UIT database, and a response from Itani and Serco liaisons is expected early tomorrow.
The identified victim at this hour was a Viper pilot of Serco decent flying under the callsign Vehement. He recorded just shy of 1300 kills and eight times that number in hive kills during his two year career. During that time he was a member of six guilds. He was most well known for flying interceptors, most notably the Serco Vulture Guardian and Orion Centurion RevC. He is survived by his wife, an Itani citizen, and a sister in Serco space- neither could be reached for comment.
The Vipers only comment on the passing of their pilot was one of solemn optimism, stating that patrols of the space lanes would be unaffected due to new additions to their ranks. They went on to express their condolences to Vehement's widow.
Investigators are sifting through the grisly remains of several victims today after a shrapnel-type bomb went off in the cargo storage area of Fenhall Mining station in Azek. The source of the blast is still under investigation. Only one of the victims has been identified thus far. Eleven of the remaining twelve bear almost identical DNA and are thought to be clones. The thirteenth and final victim's identity has not been found in any UIT database, and a response from Itani and Serco liaisons is expected early tomorrow.
The identified victim at this hour was a Viper pilot of Serco decent flying under the callsign Vehement. He recorded just shy of 1300 kills and eight times that number in hive kills during his two year career. During that time he was a member of six guilds. He was most well known for flying interceptors, most notably the Serco Vulture Guardian and Orion Centurion RevC. He is survived by his wife, an Itani citizen, and a sister in Serco space- neither could be reached for comment.
The Vipers only comment on the passing of their pilot was one of solemn optimism, stating that patrols of the space lanes would be unaffected due to new additions to their ranks. They went on to express their condolences to Vehement's widow.
She didn't know just how long she sat there after she heard the ships leaving, but finally she slid up the wall cradling her wrist close against her. It was broken, she had no doubt, and beginning to throb painfully. Recovering her blaster with her good hand, she scoured the dock area, wondering where the crew was and why they didn't come when the fight started. Within minutes she knew the answer, as she found the assistant crew chief and three of the regular workers in an alcove, where they had been dumped like so much rubbish. Anger flared in her as she thought of the waste caused by what had to be clones of some type. She had spent enough time around Everson and Pancakes, to know something wasn't right.
A noise behind her made Mystic whirl, blaster firing and barely missing Borb as he dove out of range. “Hey Hey girl...its me, did I forget to call or something?” he teased. His tone suddenly changed as he saw her. “You ok Myst?” Not saying a word Mystic leaned against her friend as he put his arm around her. “What happened?” She didn't have time to answer as Look and Shar both docked almost at the same time. Surveying the scene, they knew something had happened and not something good.
“Mystic, are you ok? What went on here?” Look asked as he noticed several blaster marks covering the area. Sending Shar to check things out as walked over to Mystic.
“I was attacked, would have been dead but they were ordered to abort..” she finally spoke
“Who was it?” The two men were already planning the revenge, each in their own way.
“Nolan Faux, Pancakes...and Everson....”
“I'll kill him...” Look went to turn and Mystic's voice stopped him
“Let me finish, it wasn't the real deal, there was no way, I knew something wasn't right, but...the way they were talking to me....and Everson...Vehement said they were gone, he has all the memories..” Suddenly a thought struck her, “ I have to contact Everson, if there are copies of his former selves running around...”
“Hey guys come here, there is something on the news” Shar called out, catching their attention “something big has gone down”
All gathered round as a scene of Fenhall Mining came into view. Shar adjusted the volume so they could catch the details.
.
Investigators are sifting through the grisly remains of several victims today after a shrapnel-type bomb went off in the cargo storage area of Fenhall Mining station in Azek. The source of the blast is still under investigation. Only one of the victims has been identified thus far. Eleven of the remaining twelve bear almost identical DNA and are thought to be clones. The thirteenth and final victim's identity has not been found in any UIT database, and a response from Itani and Serco liaisons is expected early tomorrow.
The identified victim at this hour was a Viper pilot of Serco descent flying under the callsign Vehement. He recorded just shy of 1300 kills and eight times that number in hive kills during his two year career. During that time he was a member of six guilds. He was most well known for flying interceptors, most notably the Serco Vulture Guardian and Orion Centurion RevC. He is survived by his wife, an Itani citizen, and a sister in Serco space- neither could be reached for comment.
The Vipers only comment on the passing of their pilot was one of solemn optimism, stating that patrols of the space lanes would be unaffected due to new additions to their ranks. They went on to express their condolences to Vehement's widow.
At a sound behind them, the three men turned. Mystic had sank to her knees, shaking her head.
“No....it cant be true, I just saw him last night....”
“Who Myst?” Borb knelt beside her and saw she was shaking. As she looked up at him, he saw the tears, her eyes wracked with pain.
“Everson...we were trading barbs and had a couple skirmishes....,” she shook her head again, “it cant be true.”
Look walked away and came back a few minutes later, Mystic hadn't moved, just kept shaking her head. “I just made a call....I'm sorry Mystic...its all true.... Vehement is dead.”
As she glanced up at Look, the sorrow on his face, for her, she collapsed against Borb sobbing. Look and Shar went to reach for her but he waved them away. “Cmon girl, lets get you to the doc about that wrist” Mystic refused to move, looking up at the two pirates he asked. “Med-center still in the same place?” At their nods he scooped Mystic up easily into his arms and strode away, they could still hear her sobbing as they watched them disappear down the hallway.
Shar turned to Look, “Think she will be ok?”
“I don't know mate, I honestly don't know....
A noise behind her made Mystic whirl, blaster firing and barely missing Borb as he dove out of range. “Hey Hey girl...its me, did I forget to call or something?” he teased. His tone suddenly changed as he saw her. “You ok Myst?” Not saying a word Mystic leaned against her friend as he put his arm around her. “What happened?” She didn't have time to answer as Look and Shar both docked almost at the same time. Surveying the scene, they knew something had happened and not something good.
“Mystic, are you ok? What went on here?” Look asked as he noticed several blaster marks covering the area. Sending Shar to check things out as walked over to Mystic.
“I was attacked, would have been dead but they were ordered to abort..” she finally spoke
“Who was it?” The two men were already planning the revenge, each in their own way.
“Nolan Faux, Pancakes...and Everson....”
“I'll kill him...” Look went to turn and Mystic's voice stopped him
“Let me finish, it wasn't the real deal, there was no way, I knew something wasn't right, but...the way they were talking to me....and Everson...Vehement said they were gone, he has all the memories..” Suddenly a thought struck her, “ I have to contact Everson, if there are copies of his former selves running around...”
“Hey guys come here, there is something on the news” Shar called out, catching their attention “something big has gone down”
All gathered round as a scene of Fenhall Mining came into view. Shar adjusted the volume so they could catch the details.
.
Investigators are sifting through the grisly remains of several victims today after a shrapnel-type bomb went off in the cargo storage area of Fenhall Mining station in Azek. The source of the blast is still under investigation. Only one of the victims has been identified thus far. Eleven of the remaining twelve bear almost identical DNA and are thought to be clones. The thirteenth and final victim's identity has not been found in any UIT database, and a response from Itani and Serco liaisons is expected early tomorrow.
The identified victim at this hour was a Viper pilot of Serco descent flying under the callsign Vehement. He recorded just shy of 1300 kills and eight times that number in hive kills during his two year career. During that time he was a member of six guilds. He was most well known for flying interceptors, most notably the Serco Vulture Guardian and Orion Centurion RevC. He is survived by his wife, an Itani citizen, and a sister in Serco space- neither could be reached for comment.
The Vipers only comment on the passing of their pilot was one of solemn optimism, stating that patrols of the space lanes would be unaffected due to new additions to their ranks. They went on to express their condolences to Vehement's widow.
At a sound behind them, the three men turned. Mystic had sank to her knees, shaking her head.
“No....it cant be true, I just saw him last night....”
“Who Myst?” Borb knelt beside her and saw she was shaking. As she looked up at him, he saw the tears, her eyes wracked with pain.
“Everson...we were trading barbs and had a couple skirmishes....,” she shook her head again, “it cant be true.”
Look walked away and came back a few minutes later, Mystic hadn't moved, just kept shaking her head. “I just made a call....I'm sorry Mystic...its all true.... Vehement is dead.”
As she glanced up at Look, the sorrow on his face, for her, she collapsed against Borb sobbing. Look and Shar went to reach for her but he waved them away. “Cmon girl, lets get you to the doc about that wrist” Mystic refused to move, looking up at the two pirates he asked. “Med-center still in the same place?” At their nods he scooped Mystic up easily into his arms and strode away, they could still hear her sobbing as they watched them disappear down the hallway.
Shar turned to Look, “Think she will be ok?”
“I don't know mate, I honestly don't know....
There were all kinds of situations that had to be dealt with in the universe, and this one stunk. Figuratively, in that the crime that had been committed in the cargo bay had enough threads leading to positions of power to render any public investigation DOA. Literally, in that the cordoned-off bay was developing a rank odor- a heady mixture of blood, decay, smoke, explosives, and that unique stench of death that was still shared by all humans. He would have sighed, but that would have involved taking a big breath of the air, and he wasn't about to tempt fate into making him lose his lunch. There was only one certainty in the situation- "Thirteen dead means thirteen stacks of paperwork."
Ah, paperwork. Even though it wasn't actually done on paper anymore, the endless cycle of analysis, planning, execution, and reporting demanded a thorough record of who, what, where, and when. When someone was born, forms were to be filed. When someone died, forms were to be filed. When thirteen someones apparently shot and/or blew up each other, oh boy were there ever forms to be filed- and as a professional UIT bureaucrat, who was passing through at the right time, the task of filling out all that paperwork fell in his lap.
Certificates of Death, filled by station medical personnel, sign and initial on lines 2, 7, and 16, let them handle distribution. Criminal Activity Reports, filled by Orion Security, sign on the bottom, make copies and pass on to UIT Intelligence & the Senate Diplomatic Corps. Vipers Incident Report, filed by the ranking Vipers member, sign off as UIT representative, pass on to the station commander for his signature. The procedures were well established, so all he had to do was follow them and move on.
Of course, there were always places were one could use one's discretion, even in paperwork. That was why he was down here, breathing in the stink, instead of in an economy room with its filtered air. He had another sheet of paperwork to fill out, and since the details of this incident were likely to be suppressed, if he didn't fill it out, nobody would. He had been hounding the Orion investigators, getting the story of what happened in that cargo bay before it could be "sanitized" for the official public report. The sheet filled up, bits of information going into their respective lines and boxes, until the form was full and he could leave.
Then he went to a local bar. It seemed the only proper place to finish up. The bar was packed, the background din overwhelming as off-shift miners, dockworkers, and cargo haulers unwound in the tried and true tradition. His own suit was a bit out of place, but his smile wasn't. His work was less grimy, but it was the same as theirs- grunt work, inglorious, but vital to keeping the known universe moving along. It was a strange sort of kinship, but kinship it was, and it welcomed him in.
Pulling up to the end of the bar, he ordered two drinks- one of Fresh 'roid Melt, and one of the local favorite. He scribbled something in the ever-present, rarely-used, never-looked-at "Notes:" section while he finished his Melt. Signing the form with the name that had gotten stuck to him, he separated the copies, placed one extra copy under the drink, and left the bar to send the others on their ways to the desks of more faceless officials.
-
Much later, as the bar was closing for station night, the barkeep came across the sheet, now riddled with condensation circles from where the drink had been sitting as people lifted it up, look a look, and set it back down. The glass was lifted up once again as the barkeep scanned the sheet, skipping over the neatly filled lines in idle curiousity, until he came to the Notes section. He paused for a moment, then carried the still-full glass and sheet to the trash chute.
A brief hiss was the only sound made as the glass and paper were propelled out of the station, their course heading straight for the sun. The drink briefly boiled before icing over, firmly bonding the sheet to it for the remainder of its burn up course. Most of the carefully printed sheet was obscured by the ice crystals, but if someone had come along and zoomed their cameras in on it, a few bits would still be legible, at the top and bottom.
Military Record Amendment
Person: (obscured) "Vehement" (obscured)
Identification #: (obscured)
Alteration Requested: Confirmed Kill (obscured) Addition
.........
.........
.........
Official Approval: "IRS"
Notes: Some hardass pilot managed to get twelve bastards while standing at Death's Door. This drink's for him.
Ah, paperwork. Even though it wasn't actually done on paper anymore, the endless cycle of analysis, planning, execution, and reporting demanded a thorough record of who, what, where, and when. When someone was born, forms were to be filed. When someone died, forms were to be filed. When thirteen someones apparently shot and/or blew up each other, oh boy were there ever forms to be filed- and as a professional UIT bureaucrat, who was passing through at the right time, the task of filling out all that paperwork fell in his lap.
Certificates of Death, filled by station medical personnel, sign and initial on lines 2, 7, and 16, let them handle distribution. Criminal Activity Reports, filled by Orion Security, sign on the bottom, make copies and pass on to UIT Intelligence & the Senate Diplomatic Corps. Vipers Incident Report, filed by the ranking Vipers member, sign off as UIT representative, pass on to the station commander for his signature. The procedures were well established, so all he had to do was follow them and move on.
Of course, there were always places were one could use one's discretion, even in paperwork. That was why he was down here, breathing in the stink, instead of in an economy room with its filtered air. He had another sheet of paperwork to fill out, and since the details of this incident were likely to be suppressed, if he didn't fill it out, nobody would. He had been hounding the Orion investigators, getting the story of what happened in that cargo bay before it could be "sanitized" for the official public report. The sheet filled up, bits of information going into their respective lines and boxes, until the form was full and he could leave.
Then he went to a local bar. It seemed the only proper place to finish up. The bar was packed, the background din overwhelming as off-shift miners, dockworkers, and cargo haulers unwound in the tried and true tradition. His own suit was a bit out of place, but his smile wasn't. His work was less grimy, but it was the same as theirs- grunt work, inglorious, but vital to keeping the known universe moving along. It was a strange sort of kinship, but kinship it was, and it welcomed him in.
Pulling up to the end of the bar, he ordered two drinks- one of Fresh 'roid Melt, and one of the local favorite. He scribbled something in the ever-present, rarely-used, never-looked-at "Notes:" section while he finished his Melt. Signing the form with the name that had gotten stuck to him, he separated the copies, placed one extra copy under the drink, and left the bar to send the others on their ways to the desks of more faceless officials.
-
Much later, as the bar was closing for station night, the barkeep came across the sheet, now riddled with condensation circles from where the drink had been sitting as people lifted it up, look a look, and set it back down. The glass was lifted up once again as the barkeep scanned the sheet, skipping over the neatly filled lines in idle curiousity, until he came to the Notes section. He paused for a moment, then carried the still-full glass and sheet to the trash chute.
A brief hiss was the only sound made as the glass and paper were propelled out of the station, their course heading straight for the sun. The drink briefly boiled before icing over, firmly bonding the sheet to it for the remainder of its burn up course. Most of the carefully printed sheet was obscured by the ice crystals, but if someone had come along and zoomed their cameras in on it, a few bits would still be legible, at the top and bottom.
Military Record Amendment
Person: (obscured) "Vehement" (obscured)
Identification #: (obscured)
Alteration Requested: Confirmed Kill (obscured) Addition
.........
.........
.........
Official Approval: "IRS"
Notes: Some hardass pilot managed to get twelve bastards while standing at Death's Door. This drink's for him.
ooc..
Ghost and IRS-
I set out to make this my best thread yet. You, unexpected and without invitation, have made it better several times over. I am immeasurably grateful.
Ghost and IRS-
I set out to make this my best thread yet. You, unexpected and without invitation, have made it better several times over. I am immeasurably grateful.
[OoC] Well, as long as I'm lurking around the forums, I might as well make my RP contributions.[/BiC]
In an undisclosed location, onboard an officially-nonexistent Union Peacekeeping Corps Subterfuge-Class Reconnoissance Trident, Captain Nikan "Nice" Hardrive sat brooding in his command chair.
For over three years now, they'd been out on their little black-ops mission, acquiring and retransmitting enough communications data to give Deep Blue a buffer overflow. The work was boring, and cabin fever abounded, and yet repeated requests sent to Command for reassignment were met with extension after extension of their dull tour of duty behind 'enemy' lines. The Captain suspected that the Operations Marshal wanted them out of the way for some reason, but for what purpose Svaet would pull him and his crew out of retirement only to ship off to the middle of nowhere he couldn't fathom.
Other than the weakly Bran Tourneyâ„¢ (for which Nikan thanked the most sovereign Lord for the invention of indestructible MRE muffins and riot guns), the only real entertainment aboard the spartan vessel was the daily news.
But today's news brought more grief than entertainment.
Although the Vipers had, in their nascent infancy, rather unwittingly usurped the power that rightfully belonged to the UIT's military arm, he nevertheless held great respect for what their pilots' skill and the principles that they stood for. He'd even received his fighter-combat training from a Viper pilot. The loss of one of these stalwart defenders of the space lanes, however unaware they might be to the arcane political workings that had ultimately garnered them their policing licenses, hit close to home.
He couldn't claim to know Vehement, as the pilot's clone progenitors had only made their debut well after the Captain's coerced reinstatement, but he'd read plenty of the man in the past. He seemed a competent pilot, and, despite his sometimes unstable disposition, he was an avowed man of a cause--something that Hardrive could relate to. Being blown apart was a nasty way to go, although he supposed that his taking twelve of his pseudo-clones down with him probably helped. Pity about his now-widowed wife too.
Reaching under his chair, the Captain pulled out a shot glass and a bottle sloppily labeled "Ten-Shot". His personal cache of vodka having been depleted some months ago, and Nikan had been more than obliged to let the ship's mess officer fill it with a suitable alternative. The stimulant cocktail was not too bad, although going into overdrive instead of being inebriated took some getting used to.
Pouring out a dark liquid about the color and consistency of old hydraulic grease into his glass, he raised a toast to the dead.
'This one's for you, Vehement', he thought grimly, 'I didn't know you nearly well enough. Here's hoping that, wherever you are, you're shooting lots of pirates.'
He downed the shot and relaxed himself as the caffeine, guaranine, mateine, theine, and genuine expresso took effect. I'd keep him up all night, he knew, but he needed to reflect; upon Vehement, and all the other brave souls who'd met their final end during the long years interim.
Remember the fallen, for it is by their sacrifice that we may continue to fight for their cause
In an undisclosed location, onboard an officially-nonexistent Union Peacekeeping Corps Subterfuge-Class Reconnoissance Trident, Captain Nikan "Nice" Hardrive sat brooding in his command chair.
For over three years now, they'd been out on their little black-ops mission, acquiring and retransmitting enough communications data to give Deep Blue a buffer overflow. The work was boring, and cabin fever abounded, and yet repeated requests sent to Command for reassignment were met with extension after extension of their dull tour of duty behind 'enemy' lines. The Captain suspected that the Operations Marshal wanted them out of the way for some reason, but for what purpose Svaet would pull him and his crew out of retirement only to ship off to the middle of nowhere he couldn't fathom.
Other than the weakly Bran Tourneyâ„¢ (for which Nikan thanked the most sovereign Lord for the invention of indestructible MRE muffins and riot guns), the only real entertainment aboard the spartan vessel was the daily news.
But today's news brought more grief than entertainment.
Although the Vipers had, in their nascent infancy, rather unwittingly usurped the power that rightfully belonged to the UIT's military arm, he nevertheless held great respect for what their pilots' skill and the principles that they stood for. He'd even received his fighter-combat training from a Viper pilot. The loss of one of these stalwart defenders of the space lanes, however unaware they might be to the arcane political workings that had ultimately garnered them their policing licenses, hit close to home.
He couldn't claim to know Vehement, as the pilot's clone progenitors had only made their debut well after the Captain's coerced reinstatement, but he'd read plenty of the man in the past. He seemed a competent pilot, and, despite his sometimes unstable disposition, he was an avowed man of a cause--something that Hardrive could relate to. Being blown apart was a nasty way to go, although he supposed that his taking twelve of his pseudo-clones down with him probably helped. Pity about his now-widowed wife too.
Reaching under his chair, the Captain pulled out a shot glass and a bottle sloppily labeled "Ten-Shot". His personal cache of vodka having been depleted some months ago, and Nikan had been more than obliged to let the ship's mess officer fill it with a suitable alternative. The stimulant cocktail was not too bad, although going into overdrive instead of being inebriated took some getting used to.
Pouring out a dark liquid about the color and consistency of old hydraulic grease into his glass, he raised a toast to the dead.
'This one's for you, Vehement', he thought grimly, 'I didn't know you nearly well enough. Here's hoping that, wherever you are, you're shooting lots of pirates.'
He downed the shot and relaxed himself as the caffeine, guaranine, mateine, theine, and genuine expresso took effect. I'd keep him up all night, he knew, but he needed to reflect; upon Vehement, and all the other brave souls who'd met their final end during the long years interim.
Remember the fallen, for it is by their sacrifice that we may continue to fight for their cause
It had been a long day. Even though Denji hadn't known any of Vehement's identities before they had been joined, and thus had been spared any direct confrontation with the clones, the aftermath of Vehement's death required a lot of cleaning up. Streaking towards Pelatus for his next task, he was focusing on that aspect, rather than allowing himself to face the full reality of it all, because he knew that he'd have to soon enough and there was too much to be done to collapse now. Sure, they'd had their differences, but Vehement had been a damn good friend, a good pilot, and a steady wingman out in the uncertainties of space. It was going to take awhile to come to terms with it all, and Denji didn't have the time.
He had been flying patrol through UIT space when the events started to unfold, looking after a small group of new pilots just learning to fight the hive. By the time word reached him of what was happening, it was almost over. His breakneck dash down into grey space was diverted to Fenhall Mining as news of the explosion started to spread, and so he was among the first wave of pilots to reach the site of Vehement's last stand, and see the Viper's final answer to those who had attacked his friends. He doubted he would ever be able to wipe the scene from his memory, but it seemed a fitting memorial to Vehement's name, so he didn't try.
In the hours after the explosion, Denji did his best to help the official investigators, his LT's bars and supreme standing giving him the authority to remain where most of the public was barred. He worked side by side with Strat and FreedomBird, who arrived as soon as they could from Odia, in a grim silence broken only by the most necessary of exchanges. While Veh's death hadn't yet been verified, nobody who had seen what was left in Cargo 57 could hold much hope in his survival. It was several hours before confirmation arrived, and most of the initial work had been finished by then. When the examiners gave them the news, Denji turned to the two Vipers.
"I'll do what needs doing here. Go do what you need to do." Strat and FreedomBird nodded, their eyes dull with fatigue and the strain of coping with the disaster, and without a word they turned and walked out toward the docking bay. Watching them go, Denji felt the grief start to creep over him, and he allowed himself a few moments of inner desolation. Then he walled off his emotions as best he could, and returned to his work.
It was another hour or two before he himself launched from Fenhall. He had to make his report to the fully assembled emergency meeting of PA's Council, and then make formal statements for the Vipers, Orion, the UIT investigators, and, lastly, the Triumvirate. As the only Serco present during the aftermath, it had fallen to him to apprise his former superiors of the loss of one of their best. Only after that could he make his way to Pelatus, where the hardest task of all waited for him.
He entered Pelatus Bunker, blank-faced and feeling very old, and made his way to the secure stockpile he kept there. A moment's search revealed the packet he was looking for, a disk he'd hoped never to have to use. Carrying it carefully back to his ship, he launched and plotted a course into an empty sector, far from everything. He really didn't want to be disturbed right now.
Denji keyed open the seals on the packet, and the first thing that came out was a data disk. He inserted it into his reader, and set his ocular implants to record. Several paragraphs of text came up on the screen, and after reading them, Denji laid out the rest of the contents of the packet. His eyes were bright with tears as he then reread the text, preparing himself for the hardest call he had ever had to make. But it was his duty, and it was the greatest honour, to perform vital services for lost friends. Reaching through the holographically projected screen, he inserted one of the other items in the packet, a smaller disk, into his comm's input, and activated the system with a thought. Doing so, his arm obscured all but the first line of text on the screen: "Denji, if you're reading this, then the worst has happened. I'm relying on you to take care of my..."
As his comm activated, a voice, hoarse with tears and grief, croaked "...hello?"
"Maharu, it's Denji. I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am. Your husband gave me the key to this secure channel and instructions on how to find you and to help you as best I can. I'm on my way now, and I'll stay on the line in case you need anything, anything at all."
As his friend's widow gulped back sobs, Denji plotted a course in his navmap and jumped out for the wormhole, towards a woman in a situation he couldn't even begin to set right.
He had been flying patrol through UIT space when the events started to unfold, looking after a small group of new pilots just learning to fight the hive. By the time word reached him of what was happening, it was almost over. His breakneck dash down into grey space was diverted to Fenhall Mining as news of the explosion started to spread, and so he was among the first wave of pilots to reach the site of Vehement's last stand, and see the Viper's final answer to those who had attacked his friends. He doubted he would ever be able to wipe the scene from his memory, but it seemed a fitting memorial to Vehement's name, so he didn't try.
In the hours after the explosion, Denji did his best to help the official investigators, his LT's bars and supreme standing giving him the authority to remain where most of the public was barred. He worked side by side with Strat and FreedomBird, who arrived as soon as they could from Odia, in a grim silence broken only by the most necessary of exchanges. While Veh's death hadn't yet been verified, nobody who had seen what was left in Cargo 57 could hold much hope in his survival. It was several hours before confirmation arrived, and most of the initial work had been finished by then. When the examiners gave them the news, Denji turned to the two Vipers.
"I'll do what needs doing here. Go do what you need to do." Strat and FreedomBird nodded, their eyes dull with fatigue and the strain of coping with the disaster, and without a word they turned and walked out toward the docking bay. Watching them go, Denji felt the grief start to creep over him, and he allowed himself a few moments of inner desolation. Then he walled off his emotions as best he could, and returned to his work.
It was another hour or two before he himself launched from Fenhall. He had to make his report to the fully assembled emergency meeting of PA's Council, and then make formal statements for the Vipers, Orion, the UIT investigators, and, lastly, the Triumvirate. As the only Serco present during the aftermath, it had fallen to him to apprise his former superiors of the loss of one of their best. Only after that could he make his way to Pelatus, where the hardest task of all waited for him.
He entered Pelatus Bunker, blank-faced and feeling very old, and made his way to the secure stockpile he kept there. A moment's search revealed the packet he was looking for, a disk he'd hoped never to have to use. Carrying it carefully back to his ship, he launched and plotted a course into an empty sector, far from everything. He really didn't want to be disturbed right now.
Denji keyed open the seals on the packet, and the first thing that came out was a data disk. He inserted it into his reader, and set his ocular implants to record. Several paragraphs of text came up on the screen, and after reading them, Denji laid out the rest of the contents of the packet. His eyes were bright with tears as he then reread the text, preparing himself for the hardest call he had ever had to make. But it was his duty, and it was the greatest honour, to perform vital services for lost friends. Reaching through the holographically projected screen, he inserted one of the other items in the packet, a smaller disk, into his comm's input, and activated the system with a thought. Doing so, his arm obscured all but the first line of text on the screen: "Denji, if you're reading this, then the worst has happened. I'm relying on you to take care of my..."
As his comm activated, a voice, hoarse with tears and grief, croaked "...hello?"
"Maharu, it's Denji. I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am. Your husband gave me the key to this secure channel and instructions on how to find you and to help you as best I can. I'm on my way now, and I'll stay on the line in case you need anything, anything at all."
As his friend's widow gulped back sobs, Denji plotted a course in his navmap and jumped out for the wormhole, towards a woman in a situation he couldn't even begin to set right.
ooc: Veh, I need to confirm a couple plot twists with you before posting. Meet ingame Tuesday?
i'll be there.
Very good, though the clones were hard to keep up with until I saw that they were a plot by the Itani..lol. I must go on a crusade to show that not ALL Itani are sneaky back stabbing buggers.lol.
I'm surprised this thread made any sense without having read the background. Allow me to help you out...
Nolan's origins
Everson's thread
More Everson
Nolan appears here, but is only a minor player
Nolan again. This one wasn't as good as the others
Epic thread during Nolan's joining of the Vipers
The death of Nolan, Everson, and Pancakes- probably the most important thread relative to this one.
Long thread that overlaps with several of the others, features the three memories pilot instead of the three
A very recent flashback
Nolan's origins
Everson's thread
More Everson
Nolan appears here, but is only a minor player
Nolan again. This one wasn't as good as the others
Epic thread during Nolan's joining of the Vipers
The death of Nolan, Everson, and Pancakes- probably the most important thread relative to this one.
Long thread that overlaps with several of the others, features the three memories pilot instead of the three
A very recent flashback