Ident. Jadyn "Grimwolfe" Giles Loc. & Date Leeds, 27JUN830 Station Halifax Freeport Subject Fahrenheit
A man appears in the frame with a subtle smile.
It's been a while.
I won't be all flowery, prim, and proper here. I know you two would probably rather I disappeared and fallen into a singularity.
His face turns somber.
At times, I wish I would as penance for all the harm I caused all those years ago...
He looks to the camera with a determined glare.
...but I'm working on atoning for my sins...even if those sins can never ever be washed clean.
The reason I'm sending this communication is because I have a problem...a problem only one of you can solve. As the both of you are aware, I was a subject in both the Sadukar and Fahrenheit-Alpha-Zero programs. As time has gone on, the Fahrenheit implants have begun acting unstable, often times shutting off my emotions and pain receptors for days at a time. Only recently I was able to get a soft reset on the software due to an encounter with a Nomad attempting to communicate with me.
He leans forward.
By the way, were you aware that not only does the Fahrenheit implants shut off my higher emotional functions and pain receptors but also appears to block psionic communication? I didn't...and it nearly killed me learning of that fun little feature. Would have been nice to have got a quick start guide or handbook with this chip in my head, Merlow.
He leans back and sighs. He stares at the camera for a few seconds, considering his next words.
I know neither of you ever wanted to see me again, especially you Scarman. But I'm doing my best to atone for my sins. In order to do so I need Fahrenheit. If you can find it in your good graces to help me, I promise I'll continue trying to wash my hands clean of what happened all those years ago, even if it kills me in the process.
Name a place to meet and I'll be there...if you're even there to answer at all.
The message icon blinked with a fervency. Jaydn stared at it for what felt like an age. There was no mistaking the source ID: LNS 073166 Avalanche – A. Not the same ship, but unquestionably his. He finally exhaled and waved his fingertip through the play button on the phantom screen before him. The image projector in his wearable flickered to life and a faintly hazy picture appeared before his eyes. The recording was that of a slightly overweight man in his early fifties; straight-backed and well dressed in the smart uniform of a Commodore of the Liberty Navy. The beard was a dappled grey, and the lines on his face betrayed a life of hardship, but there was no mistaking Marcus "Scarecrow" Scarman.
“A singularity is right.” Scarman spoke evenly. The quality of the recording was unusually poor, as if it had been sent via an unregulated sub-space relay. He didn’t want anyone to see this, this is as back-channel as it gets. Jaydn closed his eyes as he listened. Still, at least he responded.
“You know, she died- Not long after you visited, back in the hospital.” Scarman continued, his eyes never wavering. “She died and it ruined me. It also made me realise that I had been living a lie. I had a wife and son back home- And I had left them behind too, for what? I tried to get to them, and I failed- It turns out breaking space and time can be a dangerous endeavour. I’ve been here ever since. Working my way up on this side. I have a new life now, my daughter- stability- respectability... I’m not the person you knew- But even then, how could you ever think I’d be willing to help you?”
Ident. Jadyn "Grimwolfe" Giles Loc. & Date Leeds, 27JUN830 Station Halifax Freeport Subject RE: Fahrenheit
The communication begins and Jadyn visibly deflates a little bit.
To be frank, I didn't expect you to even respond. What I perpetuated back then was heinous and evil. I've been trying to wash my blood stained hands clean for over a decade without any resolution. I've tried to die but the fucking implants won't let me. They take over when I'm in mortal danger and save my life each time. I've almost died a few times, but never close enough.
Never enough to die.
He slams his fist down on the table in anger, shaking the camera.
So, God damnit, if I can't die then I'll save as many people as I can. Save them from the filth this universe seems to breed. Do what I couldn't or wouldn't do for others when these damned implants drove me mad.
He pants. His rage and frustration exerting him.
I'm trying, Scarman...but it's not enough to do it on my own...and here I am, prostrating myself to someone who wants me dead. Begging for their help when I know they would just assume put a bullet in my head. Maybe that's secretly what I'm hoping for.
...but, think of it this way. If you want me to suffer, then keeping me alive is the best way to do so.
To any readers, I'm aware this board is for communications, but I'm used to prose. This is relevant to the above chatter, so please bear with - and, hopefully, enjoy =)
A story is going to spin off from this on the appropriate board.
- - -
“Commodore Scarman,” Marcus turned in the direction of the voice. A young officer stood behind him, datapad in hand. The young man was looking at him expectantly. For a moment, the officer reminded Marcus of his former colleague, Lieutenant Joshua Kaye. The man’s stature was the same, and the sandy blonde hair and brown eyes were a close match. It had been years since Marcus had spoken to Kaye, or even seen him, as was the case with much of his old crew. Many had broken away after the final rift jump attempt. Consigned to a permanent existence in Dimension 003, they had opted to move on with their lives and integrate in different ways. Marcus had done the same. Leaving the last remnants of the old Freedom Fighters behind, he had joined the 003 Liberty Navy in a much lower capacity than his former rank of Admiral. Over the years, he had worked his way back up into a position of command, eventually earning the rank of Commodore and the shared responsibility of Chesapeake Shipyards in the Virginia System.
“What is it, Ensign?” Marcus replied, reading the man’s badge.
“The Raposa is due for shore-up at eighteen hundred, but Captain Anne has requested a further delay.”
“For the love of-” Marcus pressed a hand to his temples, “What is it this time?”
“They are still reporting an instability in their plasma flow matrix, sir.”
“Alright, thank you O’Brien. Roll them to the back of the queue and free up berth six for the next vessel.”
“Aye sir,”
“And tell them to keep well clear of the station.”
“Yes, sir.” O’Brien gave a sharp tap of his heels in a straight-backed salute and broke away to carry out the Commodore’s orders.
Marcus turned on his heel and continued along the corridor, resuming his trek of the station’s inner core. His shift was almost at an end, and he was bound for logistics control to sign off the next rotations’ bulk material deliveries before his clock ran out. A view of the starboard shipyard berths came into view through a chain of viewports as he walked along the passageway. Several ships were queuing for access, and all the berths were full. Much of the Navy’s fourteenth fleet had been laid down for retrofit at quite short notice, and the teams at Chesapeake had been working overtime to keep to the hectic schedule. Marcus caught sight of his command ship as he strode along the corridor. The Defiant class destroyer Avalanche was moored alongside the station’s large capital ship docks, offering her a fair overview of the shipyard’s proceedings. Marcus had been awarded command of the ship almost seven years ago, after reattaining the rank of Captain. Back then, she had been the Niagara, but Marcus had quickly sought to recast her in the wake of his old beloved Dreadnought, the LNS Avalanche. Assigning her with the same chain-code had been easy, as none of the naval codes in Dimension 003 had adhered to the same numbering system. As there had been a previous Avalanche, an Overlord class dreadnought not unlike his own, he had needed to use the suffix ‘A’, to mark her as the next in line of her lineage. Not that it meant anything to any of his new colleagues in the Liberty Navy, but this had also been significant for Marcus, as he had lost the original Avalanche during the Freedom Fighter’s final attempt to dimension-jump back to their home.
Marcus suddenly found himself slowing as he looked at the small destroyer through the row of portholes. His mind had wandered back to his past friends and colleagues, all of whom had now either dimension-jumped, integrated into 003 society, or passed on. He stopped and pressed a hand up against the viewport’s thick plexiglass, his own reflexion shrouding the outline of the Avalanche-A. The man who looked back at him was someone he didn’t recognise. Portly, almost fully grey, and with a permanent fatigue around his sunken eyes and mouth. All these years living as someone else had permanently changed him. He was no longer Marcus; this dimension knew him as Matthew Scarman, twin brother of the deceased democrat Marcus Scarman. Even his hard-earned pilot nickname ‘Scarecrow’ no longer held any relevance. It was all now just a memory; recollections he could only keep to himself.
His personal wearable chimed with the indication of an incoming message. He reached down to his belt and removed his palm-computer. The message was encrypted. His heart sank. Just days before, he had received a mysterious communicae from an unknown source. The source had turned out to be the renegade Sayne Jaydn; a man who had previously been hell-bent on murdering Marcus and his old Freedom Fighter comrades. Jaydn had claimed to have changed, and asked Marcus for help, but the old Commodore had no intention of helping the man who was responsible for the deaths of many who were close to his heart.
Commodore Scarman looked up and down the corridor to make sure no one was within earshot before opening the communicae. He slipped a small earpiece into his ear canal before opening the message. His skin crawled as he heard Jaydn’s voice again for the second time in almost fourteen years. “To be frank, I didn’t expect you to even respond…”
Marcus listened to the message, gritting his teeth. All the while he stared out of the viewport at the slowly manoeuvring fleet of naval vessels. “…but, think on it this way. If you want me to suffer, then keeping me alive is the best way to do so. Think on that.”
Marcus shut off the message and removed his earpiece. A group of young officers were approaching from the opposite end of the corridor. Marcus exchanged polite nods with them as they passed. He then started to record his own message.
“Listen to me Sayne, I don’t care if you’re trying. I don’t care if you live, or if you die. I want nothing to do with you. I can’t help you, and I won’t help you. Leave me alone, and do not contact me again.”
He cut the link as another group of officers rounded an adjacent corner. He knew one of them, they often drank together and played sim games in the rec room.
“Matthew!” The man brightened up as he saw Scarman, “You off yet?”
Marcus quickly returned his palm-computer to his hip and put on warmth. “Davis, yeah- In a couple of minutes, I need to get these incoming materials sorted first.”
Marcus fell in step with the group and allowed them to lead him down the corridor. The officers were all smiles and laughter; an energy the Marcus endeavoured to maintain. However, deep down inside, a sinking, pitching feeling clutched at his gut. He glanced once again at the reflexion in the passing viewports. The man looking back at him seemed to sneer with contempt.
“Pathetic.”