“It’s time for a change…” George says with a sigh. Sitting on the floor of Bay-1 on (Lagos Depot/their space station), he looks around at the bodies of the dead and dying. Loyal guards walk around, executing the remaining rebels as a rag-tag army of maintenance droids built by Harvey Crippen begin cleaning the floors. James stands beside him, looking down at his older brother.
“I’m glad I chose to leave Erica and Dallas back home on Malta…” He says, sitting down next to George, lighting a cigarette. He takes a few puffs as he looks to George. “Perhaps we need a change. This slave business has really gone out of control. We’re losing track of who we really are.” He begins, taking a long drag on the cigarette. George turns to James and looks at him blankly. James exhales through his nostrils; two streams of smoke bellow out like steam.
“If we were to focus our efforts on the Cardamine and Black Market Munitions trade, we have all of the proper connections, and we’ve already supplied Malta with tens of thousands of workers. Their productivity has nearly doubled in the year we’ve been doing this.” James continues, taking a moment to finish his smoke. He drops the spent cigarette on the floor and says, “Let’s just continue on without him. It was a mistake to trust anyone else with leadership but us.”
A small robot wheels up to the cigarette butt and vacuums it up. George leans over and picks up the small robot, looking it over. “What a wonderfully cute device this is…” He says, his voice shaking ever so slightly. James begins to look concerned. Could George be having another breakdown? It was, after all, the Oberon disaster that caused him to run off the first time. “From now on… It’s only going to be the two of us in charge…” George says, setting the little robot back down on the floor. “Only the Woods brothers can be trusted to run their own business…”
James smiles, and nods his head slightly in agreement. “Let’s start over again, with whatever we have left. Let’s build something better, something without slaves.” James begins. Standing up, his tone brightens as he continues, “We’ll rename ourselves. We can keep our contacts, and hopefully our allies. We’ll just smuggle Cardamine, Black Market Munitions, Counterfeit Software, Blood Diamonds, whatever. Food to the pirate factions if we have too! We’re not dead yet, and neither are our most loyal members.”
George looks up at James as he speaks, and feels strength inside of him welling up. Smiling, James reaches out to his brother. George grabs James’ hand as James helps him stand. George clutches his bandaged leg and braces himself against the wall. “We’ll be a Syndicate. The Woods Brother’s Syndicate.” James says. “I like that idea. ‘The Woods’ Syndicate.’ … It has a ring to it.” George says, smiling back at James.
“Come on brother.” James says, grabbing his brother’s arm and draping it over his shoulders. “Let’s get you to the med-lab.” The brothers limp down the corridor, as men clear the rubble and pile up the bodies. The Slaver’s Union might be dead, but the Woods Brothers certainly aren’t, and neither are their exploits.
It was a typical solar day on Lagos Depot, the home of the Slaver’s Union. George Woods and Harvey Crippen stood in the training room, shooting at thick metal plates; Harvey Crippen used his custom machine-pistol blaster. As they pause to check their targets, screams emanate from the halls. George grumbles quietly as he turns to look towards the doorway. “He’s at it again.” He says, looking to Harvey. Harvey holsters his blaster and leaves, “I suppose I should continue my research as well.” As Harvey leaves, the door closes behind him. “I’d hardly call what he does research…” George adds as he takes aim at his target and fires.
Harvey Crippen walks down the hall towards his lab, passing by Jonathan Irving’s quarters. The door open, he stops and turns, looking inside. “Hey there, Irving.” He says. “Would you like to come and assist in my research?” Harvey asks. Jonathan sits at his desk and turns his chair, looking over his shoulder. A tumbler glass in his right hand and a nearly empty decanter in his left, he pours the rest of the liquid into the glass. He looks back at his glass, shaking the decanter until the last drop falls into it. “I’d rather stay here. I quite enjoy my brain being inside of my skull.” Jonathan replies. Chuckling to himself, Harvey continues walking down the corridor.
James Woods sits in his quarters, drafting a message to his beloved Erica who is at their home on Malta. He sits back in his wingback chair, tapping his fingers on the wooden armrests. Footsteps clank closer and closer, passing by his door as they begin fading into the background. James sighs and reaches for a glass of blue colored liqueur. As he brings the glass to his lips, he pauses to hear the screams echoing from the halls. “I wish that man would give it a rest.” He thinks aloud.
Taking a drink, he sets his glass down and continues typing. As James finishes his message, a loud and final scream echoes throughout the station, followed only by deafening silence. “Finally…” he mutters to himself. As he sends the message, he stands up, grabs his glass and walks over to his bed. Sitting on the edge, he stretches out and lies down, placing the glass on his chest. He raises the glass and looks through the blue liquid, gently twisting and turning his hand. He hears a knock on his door. “Come on in…” James says.
The door slides open and George steps in. Raising an arm, he leans on the wall. “How’re you doing in here?” he asks. “You haven’t been yourself since you’ve been staying here. Do you miss them?” He walks towards James’ chair and turns it towards his bed. Sitting down, he crosses his left leg over his right and clasps his hands together. “Tell me how you’re feeling.” George says in a playful tone. James chuckles, then sits up and sets his glass down on his nightstand.
“The truth is, brother… I don’t like how Michael is behaving lately. In my opinion, he’s losing focus.” James says.
“I see… I was wondering if that could be what was bothering you. I was hoping it was simple home-sickness.” George replies.
“Sure, I miss my family, but I know I’ll see them again.” James begins.
“What’s troubling is Michael’s ‘research’, and I use that term lightly. I don’t see why keeping a person awake and un-anaesthetized is necessary for organ extraction. He claims it keeps them in ‘pristine condition and prolongs their usefulness’, but we both know why he does it. He does it because he’s sick, and he enjoys human suffering. His ship is stained with blood that he never cleans, and his lab is hardly what I could call sterile, or even a lab.”
“I also believe that whatever is wrong with him is rubbing off on Harvey. When was the last time you say either of them transporting a full load of workers without any of them ‘going missing’ or requiring ‘discipline’? It’s been weeks. Not only that, but he has his own group of guards.”
“James!” George says, raising his hand to interrupt, “He’s part of our Presidium. All of us have our own guards. That’s not a fair argument.”
“You know what I mean.” James growls. “His guards aren’t like ours. Ours are practically military, but his… They’re more like apostles. They serve him like mindless drones.”
“Are you suggesting that they aren’t loyal to the Union?” George asks as he raises an eyebrow.
“I question their true loyalties, yes. What I’m saying is, brother… I think we need to do something about him.”
“James…” George begins, clasping his hands together in front of his face, “You live on Malta. These quarters are more akin to a hotel suite for you, than an actual living space. When is the last time you spent more than a week here?”
“That’s different.” James replies, lying back down. “I have a family. We have a home on Malta.”
“That’s precisely why you’re out of turn…” George calmly replies.
“Alright, but tell me this brother… Can you honestly tell me that what he does never bothers you?” James asks, reaching for his glass and taking a drink.
“I live here. Lagos Depot is my home.”
“That’s not an answer.” James says, setting his now empty glass down on the nightstand.
“I quickly learned to tune it out.” George says, standing up. “I suggest you do too…” He says as he walks to the door. Stopping at the entrance, he takes a deep breath and slowly exhales. He turns to James and says, “If it makes you feel better, I’ll talk to Michael about his behavior.”
As George leaves, he closes the door behind him and walks towards Michael’s lab. His black boots clank on the floor panels; he reaches a T-junction and suddenly stops. Thinking to himself, he turns towards his own quarters. “I better prepare, just in case.” He thinks to himself. “A show of strength might help push my point across.” He passes corridors and entrances protected by Union guards. Ample waves of “Hail, Master!” flood his ears. George can’t help but gently smile to himself with every ovation, waving a hand in acknowledgement to the Union guards.
As he enters his quarters, he passes his own personal security force. “Hail, Master!” They shout, standing at attention on either side of his door. George waves his hand. “At ease.” He says, closing the door behind him. “These guards seem loyal enough to me.” He thinks to himself. “Even the typical Union guards are in peak form today.”
He walks over to his own desk and sits on his own burgundy colored wingback chair. He rests his hands on the armrests and gazes up at the wall. His desk is covered in old books; tomes of the world of Sol, long before the Exodus. Above the books and fixed to the wall are mounts containing a host of ancient looking weapons; modern reproductions of swords, daggers, and maces from cultures long forgotten by time.
He gazes at his favorite piece, an Iberian Saber, also known as a Falcata. He opens the middle drawer of his oak desk and grabs a brown leather baldric. Closing the drawer, he stands and slips the baldric over his shoulder, then reaches out and grabs the brown leather sheath that covers his Falcata. The brass grip glistens as he clips the Falcata’s sheath onto the baldric, slinging the sword high underneath his right arm. The eagles head carving on the end of the hook-shaped grip shimmers. He checks the charge on his blaster holstered on his left hip and grabs a spare power cell, slipping it into a pants pocket.
Walking out of his quarters, he looks to his personal guards. “Men, I need you to come with me.” He says, resting his hand on his blaster’s grip. “Yes, Master!” They answer in unison, clicking their boots together. George walks down the corridors towards Michael Cost’s laboratory, his guards marching close behind. As they pass a series of doors, George waves his hand, giving a signal for the other guards at their posts to follow along.
Soon, George, and his entourage of nearly a dozen guards enter Michael’s lab. The stench of blood and human waste makes George cringe and at least two guards cough audibly. Michael stands at a table, peeling the skin off of a corpse, stripping it down to a skeleton.
“Only a few moments ago this was a living being. Fascinating, isn’t it?” Michael says with a twisted smile on his face.
“We need to talk, Michael.” George says sternly. His guards trickle into the lab and close the door behind them.
“Oh, George! I thought you were Harvey returning from the lavatory. It’s a pleasure to see you, and with such a fine party of men in your company.” Michael says in a pleasant tone.
“Likewise, however, we have something important to discuss.”
“About what?” Michael asks, his tone suddenly flattening.
“About your research here. We believe it’s interfering with our business as slavers.” George begins.
Suddenly, the door opens as Harvey Crippen walks in. A look of confusion washes over his face as he sees George and his guards crowding Michael’s lab. He closes the door behind him and walks around the room, standing beside Michael.
“What’s going on here?” Harvey asks.
“Nothing that concerns you.” George responds coldly.
“Be mindful of how you talk to my new lab assistant.” Michael chimes in. “He’s helping me with my research, and in turn, I am helping him with his. He’s very close to creating a successful robot that functions off of a living human brain. It’ll become the ultimate military droid.”
“And how does that relate to our business, Michael… What purpose does it serve to carve perfectly good workers into pieces without anesthetic?” George asks.
“Well an anaesthetized brain doesn’t function properly in my robot prototype.” Harvey says enthusiastically.
“I don’t believe I was speaking to you.” George barks, glaring at Harvey. “This is a discussion for Presidium members. Please excuse yourself, Harvey. We’ll talk later.”
“Stay right where you are, Harvey.” Michael snaps back, putting up a bloody hand in front of Harvey, blocking his path.
“Don’t contradict me, Michael.” George growls.
“Don’t forget where OUR Union would be without me.” Michael replies. “I spoke to the Molly’s while Harvey watched in a cloaked ship. I scouted Rheinland space and sought out most of our allies. I’ve been one of the most active slavers since I joined and was brought into the Presidium.”
“While I respect the work you’ve done for the Union, you are still relatively new to our faction.” George answers.
“And where was the Union before I joined?” Michael scoffs.
“We would have achieved those things in time, with or without you.” George calmly says as he rests his hand over the grip of his blaster. George’s personal guards all take a step to the side, taking a bladed stance and bringing up their Needler rifles in the ready-fire position.
“Typical George Woods…” Michael smirks, looking down at George’s blaster, then around at the guards. “So quick to draw a weapon. My research benefits us. It’ll eventually make us countless credits. It just takes time and effort.”
“Unfortunately, Michael, we don’t exist to support your ‘research’. You’ve spent the last few weeks doing nothing but ‘research’ and it’s time to get back to work. I don’t want to have this discussion again. As for you Harvey… Remember who brought you here, and who you really work for…”
George takes his hand off of his blaster as his guards lower their Needler rifles and relax their stance. George turns to walk out of the lab. As he reaches for the wall panel, he stops when he sees blood smeared on the buttons. Sighing angrily, he grabs a sheet of clean paper off of a stainless steel cart nearby. Using it as a makeshift glove, he pressed the button with the paper covering his fingers, and then drops it to the floor. His guards follow him in rank formation, marching obediently behind.
“Savages…” Michael mutters to himself as Harvey reaches over and picks up the paper. Reading it, Harvey’s mouth drops open. He scans the paper’s contents; the true extent of Michael’s research, as well as the exact number of workers used in his experiments. Entire stocks of cargo that were never delivered, but paid in full; funds were transferred to the Slaver’s Union, but it must have come from Michael’s private accounts. “Michael must be using the Governor Parr as his primary lab, and the lab aboard Lagos must be his secondary.” Harvey thinks silently to himself.
“Did he damage my research, Harvey?”
“Indeed he did. It’s covered in blood.” Harvey replies as he crimples the paper, dropping it to the floor. “I’m feeling rather tired. I’m heading back to my quarters to rest.” Harvey says, opening the door and walking out. “Good day, Michael.”
As the door closes behind Harvey, Michael walks up and grabs the paper, opening it up and straightening it out on the cart it was originally sitting on. “It seems I may have to accelerate my plans…” He murmurs. Walking over to a terminal, he calls a secure line. The screen lights up as he waits for a response. After a few beeps, the screen changes to show a man sitting at a terminal aboard the Governor Parr, wearing the uniform of Michael’s personal guard. “It’s time. Initiate ‘Operation Guillotine’.” Michael says to the man. “Yes, my Lord…” the man drones back, as the screen cuts to black.
George walks down the hall with his guards in formation behind him. Without turning or slowing his pace, he issues orders to his men.
“Left flank: I want you to split into groups of two and gather all of my personal guards and as many Lagos Security personnel as you can find, then return to the Presidium chambers conference room. Right flank: Stay with me and continue rank formation. Understood?”
“Yes, Master!” The guards shout in unison as the left flank breaks off and the right flank closes in.
George walks over to a wall mounted terminal and calls James’ quarters. As it beeps, George grumbles, “Pick up, damn you…” After a few moments the beeping stops and a quick burst of light static is heard over the intercom speaker built into the terminal.
“Yes?” James’ voice says through the speaker.
“James, we have a problem.” George begins.
“Oh?”
“Michael isn’t trustworthy. I could see it in his eyes. He’s up to something. Call your guards aboard Lagos and meet me at the Presidium chambers. I’ve already ordered my men to gather the rest of my personal guard, as well as Lagos Security. We need to deal with Michael.”
“Finally!” James says with a sigh of relief.
“Another thing… We may need to deal with Harvey as well. We don’t know where he stands yet.” George says with a hint of sadness in his voice.
“Oh… I see…” James replies. “I’ll get right on it, brother. I’ll meet you there.”
George shuts down the terminal and continues walking towards the Presidium chambers. Footsteps march closer towards George and his men as they reach the Presidium chambers. Dozens of guards and the remaining 30 of George’s personal guard clog the hallways leading to the Presidium chambers. George stands near the door. “Single file; staggered formation.” George says as he directs the men inside.
Harvey Crippen races down the halls of Lagos, turning down the corridor towards the private quarters. “I have to find George and warn him!” He thinks to himself as he runs. The door to Jonathan Irving’s quarters open as a mildly intoxicated Jonathan stumbles out. Harvey, unable to stop, slams into him, and they topple over like falling trees. Jonathan grunts as he slams onto the metal floor panels.
“What’s your hurry?!” He yells at Harvey.
“I’m sorry, Irving. I need to find George. It’s extremely urgent!” He answers as he stands up, putting out a hand for Jonathan to grab onto.
“I’m sorry. I haven’t seen him in a while, and he hasn’t come back here.” Jonathan says as grabs Harvey’s hand and pulls himself up.
“Son of a… Where else would he have gone?!” Harvey snaps.
“I don’t know. The training rooms and James’ quarters are further down, and he didn’t pass this way. Maybe the mess hall or the Presidium chambers?” Jonathan says as he brushes himself off.
“The Presidium chambers! That has to be where he went!” Harvey shouts, grabbing Jonathan’s arm. “Let’s go!” Harvey and Jonathan race back down the hall towards the Presidium chambers, forced to double back through Lagos Depot.
Meanwhile, James walks towards the Presidium chambers, having already met his men near the mess hall. His small platoon of 24 personal guards follows closely behind him as they approach the door. As it slides open, they are met by a company of Slaver’s Union soldiers with over 120 Needler rifles and full-sized combat blasters pointed at them.
“At ease, men!” George commands. The men put down their weapons, looking at James and his platoon.
“So what’s the plan, brother?” James asks, entering the Presidium chambers with his men.
“I’ve called the crew of the Bannockburn and Zebrina.” George says, pulling the fully charged battery from his pants pocket and swapping it with the one already in his blaster. “They’re moored, but it’ll take a while before the men come marching out from those airlocks. These men will have to do for now.”
“Do you think we’ll need this many men? It’s only Michael, and he doesn’t have any more than a few dozen of his personal guards here.”
“That’s true, but Michael is a very smart man. Whatever he has up his sleeve, he probably has some sort of plan for this. It’s best to prepare for anything, James.” George says as he holsters his now fully charged blaster.
“What are you expecting, George?” James asks as he takes a seat at the Presidium conference table.
“James… I saw a look in Michael’s eyes, and it told me one thing.” He says, motioning to a guard who hands him a Needler rifle.
“What’s that?” James asks, looking up at George with a concerned look on his face.
“That we need to be prepared for anything…”
Harvey and Jonathan enter the hall leading towards the Presidium chambers. They see what appears to be the full complement of Slaver’s Union guards and the Woods brothers’ personal guards marching down the hall towards them. They stop dead in their tracks as the guards in the front kneel down, bringing up Needler rifles simultaneously.
“Wait. I need to speak to George Woods!” Harvey shouts.
“Hold!” George’s voice commands from the back of the line.
George walks through his small army as the guards stand aside, moving out of his way. George stands behind the two kneeling guards and motions for Harvey and Jonathan to come towards him. The two men cautiously approach the first slaver.
“What is it you have to tell me, Harvey?”
“The paper you grabbed in Michael’s lab. I read it… He’s been using far more workers than he’s been telling us. Thousands, George… He’s been lying for a long time.” Harvey says frantically. “He’s been conducting mind control experiments in secret. He’s even paid for some of his shipments himself and logged them as delivered.”
“I knew that snake was up to something…” George says as he turns to James standing just behind him. “Let’s show him who’s really in cha--”
George is suddenly cut off as a shock wave cuts through Lagos Depot. The entire company stumbles as Lagos shakes. Jonathan falls against a wall as Harvey loses his balance; James slams against a group of Lagos guards while George sways with the station, maintaining his balance.
Jonathan rushes towards a built-in wall terminal. His fingers slam onto keys with loud clicks as he tries to access the base’s security settings. “I don’t have authorization. I need a password!” Jonathan calls out. James walks past guards as George helps a few of them up. James fills in the password box and presses the “Execute” key.
“Oh no…” James begins.
“What’s wrong now?” George grumbles.
“He’s deactivated our shields and taken control of the weapons platforms. He could scuttle this entire base if he wanted to!” James answers as sweat beads on his forehead.
“That’s not what he’s doing, but I think I know what it is… We have to get to the docking hub, right now!” George yells, bringing up his Needler.
George waves his free hand. “Move out!” He shouts as the soldiers stand in perfect formation. The sound of marching boots echo throughout the halls, as the collective Lagos Depot and Woods brothers personal guards make their way towards the docking hub. They march from the Presidium chambers and come across a T-junction. As they do, nearly a dozen crewmembers from the Governor Parr stand there, heads angled gently towards the floor. They stare blankly, almost as if they were devoid of their own consciousness.
“The Master wishes you to remain here…” The leader says as they all draw their blasters from their holsters.
“What did he do to them?” Jonathan mutters quietly to Harvey.
The robot-like crewmembers look up at George Woods and the small army of the Slaver’s Union. George looks around at his troops. “Well…? Kill them!” He yells as he aims his Needler. The first few guards kneel down and raise their own Needlers as George opens fire. The Governor Parr drones dive to the sides; most hit the wall and flatten themselves against it while a few take cover behind small partitions built within Lagos Depot’s octagonal hallways.
The drones fire wildly at the Lagos forces, which remain calm and take careful aim. They fire steady, well aimed volleys at Michael’s drones, killing three of them mere seconds into the firefight. The drones fall back as two emerge from their cover. They charge the Lagos forces holding what looks like electronic torches with a red liquid where a bulb should be. George stands and takes a few quick steps back, firing at the charging drones.
“Stop them!” He yells out as his troops redirect their fire. A round from a Needler hits the glass. As the oxygen makes contact with the red liquid, it bursts into a cloud of flames. The other drone and the first few Lagos guards are quickly incinerated alive. The fireball singes the bottom edges of George’s overcoat, creating a small flame, and singes a portion of his right sleeve. He stumbles back, falling onto a guard. Other guards quickly grab the two men and drag them away from the fireball as Lagos Depot’s fire suppression system activates.
Toxic Halon 1301 gas sprays from small ports built into the ceiling, right in front of George Woods and the Lagos forces. Startled, George orders the men back as he pulls off his singed and burning overcoat, swapping his Needler between hands as he does. “No more games, Michael…” George mutters to himself.
They charge down the previous corridor, escaping the immediate gas cloud, only to be met with closing fire doors. Jonathan dives underneath the door, along with a few of the Lagos Security guards. They get up and continue running towards the next fire door. James rushes to a control panel and begins to type. As the doors make it half-way down, they stop. “You’re a lifesaver!” George says as he pats James on the shoulder.
“Didn’t we use HFC-227ea gas? That gas was white, not colorless.” Harvey notes as he leans down and walks underneath the half-closed fire door.
“Let’s see…” James begins. He continues typing as more of the Lagos forces slip underneath the door. “Michael removed the HFC-227ea gas tanks and replaced them with toxic and obsolete Halon 1301. He must have synthesized it himself. He’s planned this all along.” James finishes, logging off of the terminal and slipping underneath the fire door.
Harvey looks around but doesn’t see Jonathan, or the handful of guards who scrambled under the door earlier; the fire door ahead of them has completely closed. James pushes past Harvey and the men and begins using another terminal as George follows closely behind. Soon, the door slowly slides open. “We were under lockdown. I’ve lifted it, and locked out Michael’s access with our master password. There shouldn’t be any more surprises.” James says with a confident smirk.
“We need to look for Jonathan and those men!” Harvey yells at George.
“I understand your concern, Harvey, but we have bigger problems on our hands right now. Michael is our first priority, but if we see Jonathan along the way, we’ll rescue him.” George says in a stern voice as he walks past Harvey, preparing to retake the lead.
The Woods brothers, Harvey, and the main body of the Lagos forces bypass the fire, which continues to burn with the Halon 1301 gas shut off. As they come to another junction, they see another group of Michael’s drones, however, this time they are prepared. They open fire immediately, targeting the least threatening drones. As the drones fire their blasters and retreat, the unarmed hostiles collapse to the floor; containers with the red liquid roll towards the Lagos forces, unbroken.
They approach the fallen drones; a Lagos guard carefully taps a body with the toe of his boot, listening for any groans of pain. George kneels down and checks the pulse of one drone. He’s still alive.
“Well now… What was that chemical weapon you intended to use on us?” George asks.
“The m-master…” The drone chokes out. He coughs up blood. “He com--mands us. We… We obey…”
“Some sort of mind control.” George sighs in disappointment. He holds his Needler in his off-hand, placing the butt on the floor, then draws his blaster. “What a waste…” He says before firing a single shot into the drone’s head.
He holsters his blaster and stands, gripping his Needler with his strong hand again. As he walks, the Lagos forces follow. As they pass the fallen drones, Harvey stops. Kneeling down, he picks up the container of red liquid, and then stashes it behind some piping in the hallway. He reaches for the second one, and as he grabs it, James grabs his shoulder. “Come on.” James says. Harvey holds onto the container and stands up, following James at the rear of the force.
The Woods brothers march ahead, and fight another small group before finally coming to the large doors to the main docking hub. The docking hub is a large hall with a series of junctions leading to all of the mooring airlocks, which are currently filled. Every Slaver ship was at Lagos; the Governor Parr, Baychimo, Mary Celeste, Resolute, Lyubov Orlova, Animus, Ourang Medan, Zebrina, and the Bannockburn.
As the large doors slowly creak open, George and his personal guard charge in, followed closely by the Lagos guards. They scan the docking hub as the men spread out, setting up a perimeter. George and some of his men take up a position at a large pile of metal crates, kneeling down behind them. James, Harvey and over a dozen Lagos forces take up their own positions near large tables containing ship parts and tools. Almost a hundred of the remaining Lagos forces stay back inside of the entranceway to the docking hub, acting as reinforcements.
Of the nine doors to the different mooring points, all are sealed. Their eyes scan the doors. From all but two, flames or charring is visible through the thick synthetic glass windows. “We’re too late…” George says as he stands up, his Needler lowering to his side. “That was the shockwave…” He murmurs, looking towards “Moor #9”. He sees the smoke and flames tinting the window. He grips his Needler tightly as his hand begins to shake in anger. That’s the tunnel leading to the Bannockburn, his prized TTR-1130 Pilgrim Liner, and the first Slaver’s Union ship.
Suddenly, “Moor #5” opens. George kneels back down, as the army of Lagos guards readies their weapons. “Yes George. You are too late…” Michael’s voice says over the intercom speakers, filling the entire docking hub. A small group of drones, all armed with a mix of Needler rifles and blasters march out from the tunnel, followed by Michael and another Slaver, Frank Tanner, who’s wearing a full armored suit with a shoulder mounted plasma blaster; they’re holding Jonathan hostage, with Michael holding a plasma cutter, pointing it at his head.
“I’m terribly sorry about your guards, George. We had to kill them.” Michael begins. He lips twist into a sinister grin. “It’s a shame too. They would have made fine additions to my horde…” He chuckles.
“I’m going to REALLY enjoy killing you…” George growls as he stands back up. He holds his Needler across his chest with his finger off of the trigger. “You’re going to pay for destroying the Bannockburn… I loved that ship…”
“Oh, but I didn’t JUST destroy the Bannockburn.” Michael begins with a chuckle. “I also destroyed the Lyubov Orlova, Animus, Resolute, Ourang Medan, Mary Celeste, and Zebrina.” Michael smiles, as he pulls his trademark mask and goggles from a pocket of his brown trench coat. “It’s a shame about those new Captains; they were still aboard Mary Celeste, Resolute, and Lyubov Orlova. Lost with all hands, I’m afraid!” Michael puts on his mask, his voice changing as it’s now played through a small speaker.
The raspy, distorted voice continues. “This Captain wasn’t so unfortunate.”
“Let him go!” Harvey cries out as he quickly stands up.
“Hello Harvey. It’s a shame I couldn’t trust you. I wanted you to become my second in command.” Michael says.
“You’re sick!” James yells.
“No. You’re the ones who are sick. You trade in human lives, yet you’re unable to recognize the work of a true genius, a visionary! There’s something clinically wrong with all of you.”
“It’s just business, Michael. We’re not out to conquer Sirius.” George says while slowly putting his finger on the trigger of his Needler.
“You should be. Why do you think I devised this plan? I knew that none of you could share in my vision. You aren’t capable of comprehending what it’s like… I control their very will; their very souls! To my Minions… I am a king… An Emperor of Sirius!” Michael says in a dazed rant, raising a fist into the air as though to praise himself.
“Empires fall, Michael!” James shouts.
Suddenly, George raises his Needler and begins firing at the drones closest to Michael. The Lagos force quickly follows suit. Michael drags Jonathan back just out of range, just inside of the tunnel, as Frank Tanner shoots back with his shoulder mounted plasma blaster. Drones and Lagos guards fall; their blood collects in pools that seep under the floor panels. Harvey finally draws his trademark machine-blaster and fires rapid bursts, as James uses his compact blaster, taking careful aim with each shot. After only minutes of heated battle, the drones suddenly stop firing and stand still. The Lagos force ceases fire; George looks back at James and Harvey, then turns to the drones and continues firing. The Lagos force joins in and kills the motionless drones.
“How did you like that little skirmish? I have thousands more slaves where those few came from. I’ve perfected the method, George.” Michael shouts from the tunnel. “Governor Parr is fully stocked. Believe me; I can do this for days. Bow to me and I won’t send them all in.” Michael, Frank, and Jonathan emerge from the tunnel. Frank’s plasma blaster smokes.
“You really trust a Cardamine addict as your personal guard?!” James yells to Michael from across the small battlefield.
“I took the time to study his addiction. I discovered a way to free him. It wasn’t all that difficult, when you have such a wealth of test subjects and a superior intellect.” Michael replies.
“Freed him, only to enslave him with your mind control techniques?” George asks, aiming his Needler at Frank.
“He’s not a slave. I gave him the choice. He saw my potential and chose to be my 2nd. That would have been Harvey’s spot, if he had the vision. That’s also why the Baychimo is still intact; Frank is her new Captain.” Michael says, patting Frank on the pauldron of his armored suit. “So what do you say? Surrender?”
George looks back to James and Harvey, gently shaking his head “no”. James and Harvey return the head shake; they all turn back to Michael as George speaks up. “We’d rather not!” He says with a cheerful tone.
“I don’t believe you are taking me seriously…” Michael says in a low growl. “Let me show you how serious I am…”
Pushing Jonathan forward, Frank kicks the backs of his knees, causing him to drop down. Kneeling towards the Woods brothers, the Lagos force, and his friend Harvey, Michael points his plasma cutter to the back of Jonathan’s neck.
“Do you choose to serve me as a Captain of my armada?” Michael asks.
“I…” Jonathan begins. He pauses and looks over to “Moor #2” where Animus once was.
“Well?” Michael demands. His voice sharpens as he grows impatient.
Jonathan looks back to his friends, then, focusing on Harvey, he smiles and closes his eyes.
“I’d rather die.” Jonathan says happily.
“So be it, John.” Michael says before pulling the trigger.
“No!” Harvey shouts as he stands up. He rushes around the table, only to be held back by James and a few Lagos guards.
“Poor Jonathan…” Michael says as Jonathan’s head rolls down the steps towards the center of the docking hub. “He would have made a great minion.” Stepping backwards, he waves a hand and shouts “Slaves! Kill them all!”
The sound of boots echo through the tunnel, clanking on the floor panels as dozens of Michael’s drones rush through. They storm in and begin firing wildly. Many of them stop and stand in place as the fire, without attempting to use cover. The Lagos forces take their time, leaning out of cover to fire before stowing themselves again. The wave of drones is felled quickly, but soon another wave rushes into the docking hub, flooding out of the tunnel that leads to Governor Parr.
“Those damned drones…” Michael grumbles as he walks towards his ship, pushing past the next wave. Frank Tanner follows close behind. “If only they weren’t so simple minded.” He boards Governor Parr and walks towards the bridge; hundreds of drones are lined up and armed as he passes them. He approaches a series of control panels and stands next to his crew.
“The horde is armed and ready. How many shall I send, Master?” a crewmember asks, turning in their chair and looking up at Michael.
“All of them…” Michael answers.
“All 1,000?” the crewmember says. “Shouldn’t we save some of the drones for our own defense when we leave to colonize?”
“I see…” Michael begins, as he slowly turns his head to look down at his crewmember. “You must have a hearing problem.” He continues as Frank Tanner steps up, standing behind them.
“No sir…” the crewmember nervously responds.
“Send them all. All 1,000.” Michael says. “We can always make more, and cheap slaves are readily available to me…”
Back within the docking hub, George takes cover behind his crates as laser blasts flash around him. Smoke rises from the burn marks as he keeps his head down. Wave after wave of drones enter the docking hub, filling the large hall and packing the tunnel to the Governor Parr tighter than a can of sardines. Lagos forces take carefully aimed shots as they lean out of cover, dropping dozens of Michael’s drones. James and Harvey take turns; James fires a few rounds as Harvey utilizes his machine-blaster, firing multiple round bursts in rapid succession.
The battle rages on as Lagos forces slowly start to drop. As one Lagos soldier falls, another steps out from the corridor to the docking hub, quickly taking their place. Drones pour in opposite of the Lagos forces, arriving into battle faster than they’re being slain. The drones see George’s movement and quickly zero in. They fire scores of laser and plasma blasts at his pile of crates.
George can barely move from his barrier. He raises only his hand out of cover to fire; blast after fiery blast exits the gold barrel of his custom modified blaster. Soon, his blaster loses its charge. George sits down, his back up against the metal crates as he swaps out the battery for the one in his pants pocket. The drones attempt to spread out. George takes a few deep breaths, preparing himself.
He pulls in his legs and takes a squatting position. He waits for a lull in the firing, and then rushes back towards the Lagos forces. Drones fire at him wildly as he runs, zigzagging to avoid the burning rain. The drones seem focused and cease battling with the Lagos forces as they begin moving in to kill George.
“Protect him, damn you!” James yells to their troops.
George trips over a corpse and falls to the floor. With no chance to get back up, he looks to his left and sees a valley in the floor for piping to run through. He grabs hold of his sword sheath and keeps it pressed against his body as he rolls over the corpse and slips himself into the valley, hiding himself between the piping. The drones move in and fire wildly at the floor near George as the Lagos forces continue to drop them like flies.
James and Harvey stand up. James fires until his blaster loses charge and clicks harmlessly. James drops down behind his cover as Harvey fires burst after burst. A Lagos guard leans in and slides a fresh power cell across the floor towards James. He picks it up and quickly swaps them out as he leans back out of cover. Harvey’s machine-blaster also runs dry; he drops back down behind his cover and begins to swap power cells, then stops to look at the container of red liquid that he had taken earlier.
“We need to do something, Harvey!” James shouts.
Harvey grabs the container and stands back up, holding the container in one hand and his fully charged machine-blaster in the other. Aiming at the drones nearest to George, he fires burst after burst.
“Shoot the drones; push your fire from the front of the line to the back. We need to get them further back!”Harvey shouts.
James turns his head to look at Harvey, and sees the container at his side.
“Do it men. Push them back from George and our barrier!” James adds.
The Lagos forces stand up and fire well aimed volleys at the drones; they mow them down like grass as they push them back towards the tunnel to Governor Parr. Blood runs like a stream and pours down into the valley that George has hidden himself in. George groans in disgust as the blood spills over him and the iron smell fills his nostrils.
Reinforcements rush in to take the place of the fallen drones, but as the new troops charge in, Harvey holsters his machine-blaster and brings the container of red liquid to his chest.
“Get down!” Harvey yells. He twists his torso and draws back his arm as he lobs the container up and over the field of corpses. It flies towards the new drones and smashes onto the floor. A large fireball engulfs the drone reinforcements, as well as the entire opening of the tunnel they’re appearing from. Drones rush away from the fireball, flailing their arms as they scream in agony.
“Fire!” Harvey yells as he draws his machine-blaster. James, Harvey, and the Lagos forces concentrate their fire on the bright red flames that block their view of the tunnel. Laser and plasma rounds fly out of the inferno, returning the favor. Drones scream as they run around the docking hub floor, engulfed in flames. George pulls himself out from his hiding space in the floor, looking like death incarnate. Blood drips from his body and clothes as he stumbles out.
He takes a few steps towards the fireball, walking over a corpse. He looks on in amazement, before noticing the flailing and burning drones. He aims at the screaming, fire engulfed drones, and then shoots round after round. As they drop, two drones with only small fires on their arms and pants legs charge at him. George aims, but when he pulls the trigger, his blaster clicks. George had forgotten that the battery he had in his pants pocket was already partially drained earlier.
He steps backwards and stumbles on the corpse. He drops his custom blaster which slides across the floor towards his troops on the other side of the docking hub. As a drone lunges at him, he reaches out; grabbing the drone’s wrists, he sticks out his foot and throws the drone up and over him. He reaches for the brass handle of his Falcata sword, pulling it out of the sheath.
The 2nd drone lunges at him as he points the Falcata forward. The drone quickly impales himself on George’s sword. A rib cracks as the blade pushes through his body, the tip quickly protruding from his back. Blood runs over the blade and onto George’s chest as he rolls to the right, dropping the drone’s body to the ground. George places a foot on his adversary’s chest, pulling hard on the hook shaped handle of his sword, drawing it from its victim.
Standing quickly, he turns to see the first drone charging at him again. He lunges to the left as laser blasts suddenly fly past him, dodging the charge of the drone. The drone slips on the floor, but quickly regains his balance. George stands up and holds his sword out to his left, shifting the blade. He glares at the flaming drone, who charges yet again, screaming like a wild animal. George steps to the left, swinging his sword to the right as his enemy passes him.
The drone drops to his knees as his grips the place where his right arm used to be. He tries to take a knee as shock comes over him. George walks up to him as the fire begins to die down behind him. He turns to look at George, only to see him for a split second, as George swings the Falcata. The blade strikes the back of the neck and crushes the vertebrae, nearly severing his neck. His corpse falls to the floor as his head hands by a small piece of flesh.
“George!” James yells out.
George looks up, and then turns to see a perfectly healthy drone swinging at him with a retractable baton. He brings up his sword, turning the blade to the side as he parries the baton strike. Placing his palm on the flattened end of the blade, he pushes forward, causing his enemy to stumble. The drone regains his balance and brings up the baton as George brings up his sword. The baton comes down fast as George swings the sword. He strikes the baton and it flies out of its owner’s hand.
As he recovers from the swing, he pulls back and draws the sword across the drone’s torso on a diagonal angle. He kicks the drone’s knee, dropping them to the floor, and then brings the sword down with both hands, decapitating him. Looking up, he sees the fire has nearly burned itself out. As more drones with batons and electron-whips pour out through the charred entrance of the tunnel, George runs back towards the rearmost barricade.
“How many have they killed?!” Michael demands.
“Approximately 357 life-signs have been lost out of 1,000, Master!” a crewmember responds as they look at a screen on their control panel.
“Damn them…” Michael begins. He turns and walks down the corridors towards the tunnel. “Frank, I need you to get to your ship and prepare for launch. This has already been a setback.” He stops and turns toward Frank. “I will NOT tolerate another…” Michael finishes.
“Yes… Master…” Frank replies.
George slides across the floor near the leftmost corner of the barricade. A Lagos guard is kneeling behind it, holding George’s customized blaster by the barrel, the grip facing George.
“Here you are boss.” He says as he hands it to George. “I replaced the power cell for you. I wish I had a spare to give you too.”
“Thank you, soldier.” George says as he places his Falcata sword into his right hand. “Keep your head down and get ready for a fight.” George finishes as he grabs his blaster with his left hand.
“I’m always ready, boss! But if I keep my head down, how do you expect me to fight?” The guard replies with a chuckle.
“Good point.” George replies with a sinister smile.
The drones regroup and prepare for another full-on assault. The entire Lagos force can hear them charging what weapons they have left, unrolling the metal coil of their electron-whips, and extending their batons.
“What’s your name, soldier?” George asks, as he kneels behind the barricade.
“Zane, boss. They call me Zane.” He replies.
“Zane, eh? Try not to die, Zane.” George says as he stands up and takes aim.
Zane smiles and stands up as well, aiming his Needler rifle at the tunnel entrance. George raises his Falcata and calls out to the Lagos forces.
“Get ready, everyone. They’re going to make a move soon. Charge up your blasters, reload your Needlers, and make sure your batons, knives, or brass knuckles are ready. Reinforcements need to bring your spare power cells and ammunition to the front, and squeeze every man against the barricade as you can; stagger formation.”
The troops holding back in the corridor march in. They lay out spare ammunition as some of them take positions against the barricade, as ordered. James and Harvey walk around the back of the line towards George.
“It’s good to see you, brother.” James says with a smile. “I’d hug you, but you look worse than death.” He chuckles.
“I’m glad you’re still alive, James. Same to you Harvey. I’m glad you used that little ‘Bottle O’ Hell’. Smart thinking.” George replies.
Harvey nods, but remains silent. He turns towards the charred tunnel entrance and aims his machine-blaster.
“Let’s finish this…” Harvey murmurs.
“Yes. Michael needs to pay.” James adds.
“Don’t worry.” George says, looking over at his brother and only remaining Slaver. “We’ll kill ‘em all…”
Michael Cost and Frank Tanner approach the horde of drones in the tunnel. Michael looks over his troops.
“This is what we’re reduced too? Electron-whips and batons?! Pitiful.” Michael scoffs. “Make sure you kill as many as you can. Kill every last one of them if you can. If nothing else, hold the line, and allow Frank Tanner to return to the Baychimo unharmed so that he can launch.” Michael orders.
His army of drones nods silently.
“Alright my minions…” Michael begins. He takes a few long breaths. “Charge!”
The drones all stand, yelling as they sprint out of the tunnel entrance. The Lagos Guards begin firing. “Sweep your rounds across the horde! Drop them all!” George commands. Drone after drone falls to the floor. The bodies pile up as they charge through the entrance into the docking hub. Drones begin to trip over the pile of corpses as they attempt to push towards the barricade.
“I should’ve bought more blasters…” Michael mutters to himself. “I didn’t expect them to put up such a fight.”
Frank Tanner turns his head, looking to Michael. Michael places a hand on Frank’s right shoulder and pats him gently. “Try to get to your ship, my minion.” Frank nods, then marches behind the charging drones, using them for cover.
James sees Frank emerging from the tunnel. “Men, concentrate your fire on Moor #7. Don’t let him reach the Baychimo!” He commands. The Lagos guards turn to fire on Frank Tanner.
“I’m going to kill that bastard!” George growls.
“I’ll help you…” Harvey says, checking his machine blaster.
The duo crouches down and moves slowly around cover as they push towards the Baychimo’s tunnel. They drop down into the valley where George had previously hidden himself, crawling their way towards their target. James and the Lagos guards keep firing, distracting the drones that now armed with only melee weapons. The drones keep pushing through, forced to climb over a large pile of bodies in the docking bay and sliding down the other side.
Michael returns to his command post, the bridge of his ship, the Governor Parr. He looks over the panels and checks the life signs of his army. “What?! That can’t be right!” He yells. “Is this a glitch?” He asks a sitting crewmember.
“No sir.” He replies. “They’ve killed 809 drones.”
“Prepare to launch! Call in the rest of the crew and seal the airlock!” Michael demands.
“What about the remaining drones, Master?”
“Hmm…” Michael places his left hand on his head, gently rubbing his scalp. “Pull back 60. That’s a nice round number. We want enough to commandeer another ship if we need too.”
“Yes, Master!” The crewmember responds with a nod.
As Michael turns and storms off, the crewmember presses a button. Activating the intercom for all of Lagos, he leans toward a small microphone mounted on the control panel. “Attention, crew of the Governor Parr! Collect 50 strong drones and return to your Master. We are preparing to launch! Airlock will close in three minutes!”
“That damn coward! We can’t let him escape!” James yells. “What are your orders, sir?” A Lagos guard asks.
“Go back into the tunnel and gather all of the reserves. We’ll push as hard as we can towards the Governor Parr and see if we can’t get on board before they launch.” He commands.
The guard nods and rushes back towards the tunnel. James doesn’t wait for the reinforcements. “Forward!” He yells as he stands and fires, walking around his cover. He fires his blaster at numerous drones as the slide down the pile of bodies, adding them too it like a twisted, flesh sculpture. The remaining reinforcements charge past James as he walks, scrambling up the mountain of glistening, blood soaked corpses.
As they reach the top, they fire wildly at the remaining drones at the bottom. Commanding the artificial high ground, they sit or crouch atop the bodies and lay down suppressing fire. Unfortunately, the drones can’t be suppressed or routed; feeling no fear, they charge into the Needler and blaster rounds, dying by the dozens.
The Lagos guards begin to slide down the mountain of corpses as James reaches the top. He fires his blaster as he slides down the pile, leaning to his left side to balance himself, his right foot extended. The Lagos guards push forward into the tunnel as the close in on the corner.
Near the entrance to Moor #7, George and Harvey climb out of their metal valley. They run towards the tunnel entrance; George fires his custom blaster, holding his Falcata in his right hand, and Harvey fires his machine blaster in short controlled bursts. Drones fall left and right as they move into the tunnel. Harvey shoots a burst into the center-mass of two drones. George fires a single round into the head of another, and then thrusts his right arm out, impaling a second on his sword before pulling back and dropping his body on the floor.
The Baychimo’s airlock begins to close as they watch Frank Tanner walk aboard his ship.
“This one isn’t getting away!” Harvey yells.
George sprints towards the door. As he closes on the airlock, he trips on a damaged floor panel. Stumbling, he lands on a knee and slides forward. Holding his Falcata forward, he manages to place the first half of the blade between the airlock doors, preventing them from sealing. As Frank approaches his few crewmembers at their stations on the bridge, a loud buzzing alarm sounds off.
“Master! The airlock hasn’t sealed. The ship cannot launch. The computer will not allow it!” They shout out, turning their chair towards Frank.
Frank stands there silently before exhailing deeply. George and Harvey grab onto either airlock door. Counting aloud, they pull on “three” and slowly pull the doors open. George’s Falcata falls to the floor with a loud clank as they open the airlock enough to slip through. George kicks his sword past the door before allowing Harvey to slip through. Just before the doors close, George swings his body around from one side to the other, falling into the Baychimo as the doors slide shut.
“What are your orders? … Master?!” The crewmember asks frantically.
Frank continues to stand there, watching the panels. The alarm continues as the holographic airlock light flashes a yellow-orange. Suddenly, the light turns bright green and the alarm falls silent. Frank chuckles to himself, then turns around and faces the hallway.
“Master?!” The crewmember asks again.
Frank reaches back and grabs their throat, squeezing as hard as he can. A loud crunch is heard as he breaks the crewmember’s vertebrae, killing them instantly. As he holds their throat, George and Harvey step around the corner. Frank pulls the crewmember’s body out of the chair and drops it on the floor, taking the seat for himself.
“Crew… Kill the intruders…” He says calmly as he leans back in the chair, crossing his arms.
Back at Moor #5, James and the Lagos guard curve around the tunnel’s corner. They charge forward as they spot the last of the Governor Parr’s crew and drones rushing into the airlock. They fire at the drones only for them to turn around and return fire.
“Damn it!” James says as he ducks behind the corner with some of the Lagos guards. “He armed his last few drones. Smart move Michael… Alright men! Move forward. Double column formation! The first two crouch down! Take careful aim and kill them all!” James commands.
“Yes sir!” the Lagos guards respond in unison.
Moving around the corner, they follow James’ orders to the letter. Their quick but careful aim kills the few remaining drones without a single loss to the Lagos forces. James turns the corner and runs for the airlock doors as they begin to close. The last few crew push through the airlock door as the drones are forced to the back. James fires his blaster at the door. Nearly all of the crew and drones make it through to safety as James’ anger affects his aim.
As the last drone tries to slip through the closing airlock door, James makes one hit, splattering his brain matter on the doors as they clank shut. James runs into the door and pounds his fists on it.
“No!” He screams. “You can’t get away with this!”
Aboard the Governor Parr, Michael returns to the bridge. Standing next to a crewmember, he chuckles. “How many did we lose?” He asks them.
“941 drones, Master.” They reply.
Michael sighs. “59 drones left. Not as pretty a number as 60, but I’ll take it. I’ll simply make more!” He says with a pleasant tone. “Launch the ship. We have places to be…” He says as he walks away, humming to himself.
In Moor #5, James watches in furious anger as the inner door and outer door slowly separate. The Governor Parr pulls away from Lagos Depot as her engines slowly hum to life. James’ anger turns to horror as he looks through the thick window of the airlock door. The ships engines flare silently, the sound unable to penetrate the vacuum of space.
“He got away…” James mumbles to himself as he turns around, placing his back onto the airlock door. “He got away, and he has his ship.” He says, sliding down and sitting on the floor.
Zane, the Lagos guard, approaches James and kneels beside him. “We can still find him, Sir…” He reassures James.
“He has the technology to make drones. It’s not just him; it’s the rest of Sirius? Who’s to say he won’t come back ten years from now with a fleet of thousands of drones?” James says, horrified.
“A Pilgrim Liner is tough, but deep space is tougher. He’ll probably meet his fate out there in the fringe.” Zane adds. “There’s still his right hand man, and George and Harvey are fighting him right now!” He says as he stands. “Now get up! Let’s help them burn him and his crew to ashes!” He says with a cheerful tone, reaching out a hand to James.
“You’re right…” James says, looking up at Zane and taking his hand.
James and the Lagos guard rush back through the tunnel and around the corner. They turn towards Moor #7 and head towards the Baychimo’s airlock. They come up to the doors and set down their Needlers and blasters as they try to pry open the doors.
Aboard the Baychimo, Frank’s crew lunge out of their chairs, charging at George and Harvey. They pull batons and small blasters. The Lagos duo, blasters already in hand, fire at Frank’s crew. In seconds, they kill most of them, and injure the others. The lower their blasters and stare at Frank.
“Well that wasn’t very entertaining.” Frank says as he leans forward. “Perhaps we should ta-”
Frank is suddenly cut off as George raises his blaster and fires. Frank groans and tries to speak again, only to be interrupted by Harvey raising his machine blaster and firing a burst into his chest armor. George and Harvey both fire their blasters for what seems like an eternity as they char Frank’s armor.
As their blaster’s power cells run dry, they holster them and walk towards Frank. George swaps his Falcata into his left hand as Harvey looks around for a melee weapon, taking a coiled Electron-Whip from a dead crewmember.
“So much for my villainous speech…” Frank says, standing up and taking off his armor.
He charges George who swings his sword, clipping Frank’s arm. He groans in pain as he grabs George by the shoulders and shoves him backward. George drops his sword as he flies backward almost 10 feet. Shocked by how physically powerful Frank Tanner is, Harvey swings the Electron-Whip. It uncoils as the tip sways above the floor, the spikes on the metal links glowing as the blue light of the electrical charge envelopes it.
Harvey swings the Electron-Whip, nicking Frank’s right arm. George pushes himself up and scrambles across the floor, picking up his sword. Frank turns to Harvey who swings the whip as he backs up. He strikes Frank’s left leg, and then nicks his chest. George lunges at Frank, sliding the Falcata’s blade across his left side, cutting him deeply. Frank turns to the right and swings his arm, smashing George against the side of his face.
As George falls to the floor again, he turns to Harvey who takes another swing. As the Electron-Whip comes down on Frank’s neck, he reaches out with his left arm. The whip coils around his arm, the spikes digging deep into his flesh. He yanks back, pulling the handle of the whip out of Harvey’s hand. It dangles from Frank’s arm as he steps forward, grabbing Harvey by the throat with his right hand. He pushes Harvey against the wall and lifts him off of the ground.
Harvey’s feet dangle a few inches off of the floor as Frank slowly squeezes his neck. George struggles to pick himself up off of the floor. Grabbing his Falcata, he charges Frank one more time. Harvey looses consciousness and his body becomes limp as Frank holds him up in the air and against the wall. George swings with both hands, lopping off Frank’s right arm at the elbow. Groaning, more out of anger than pain, Harvey drops to the floor; Franks right forearm landing just to his left.
Frank spins around and swings his left arm, bringing it up to his chest, swinging the Electron-Whip attached to him. It slams against the right side of George’s face, the electrical charge and spikes both burning and tearing flesh. George screams in pain as he flies back, falling onto the floor. Frank closes in and reaches out for him with his left arm. He grabs George’s neck and lifts him up. George grips his Falcata tightly as he pulls his arm back before thrusting it deep into Frank’s stomach.
George’s grip on the hooked brass handle loosens as Frank slams him against a control panel. His left leg catches a sharp edge and is gashed open as Frank bends him backwards over it. As George also begins to lose consciousness, he stares up at the ceiling. Blood streams down his mangled face and down his leg. Suddenly, a hand grabs the handle of the Electron-Whip still dangling from Franks left arm. It pulls up and to the right of the hunched over Frank, wrapping the electrically charged, spiked links around his throat. Frank lurches back as James holds into Franks back, pulling harder and harder on the Electron-Whip.
Frank tries to spin around as the spikes slowly start to pierce the flesh of his neck. James grunts as he tries to maintain his hold. Frank lurches again as James falls off of his back, but refuses to release the handle of the whip. It pulls back tightly and cuts deeply into Frank’s neck. Blood begins to spurt out of his neck as his heart beats. He drops to the ground as he reaches for the whip around his neck. He grabs onto it; the electrical charge burns his fingers. With a final groan, Frank falls forward onto the floor.
“I hope it hurt…” James says with a sigh.
Turning to the control panel, he sees George lying over the control panel. Rushing up to him, he sees George’s face. Turning to Zane and the other Lagos guards, he motions for them to come towards him.
“We need to get him to the med-lab right now, before he bleeds out!” He yells.
“Yes Sir!” Zane replies as he picks up George and slings an arm over his shoulder.
“Activate Harvey’s surgical drones right away. They’ll handle the rest.” James adds.
A second Lagos guard takes the other side as they drag George off. James walks over to Harvey and checks his pulse. He motions to a few more guards.
“He’s not dead, just unconscious. Take him to the med-lab as well. Let’s make sure he’s not seriously or permanently injured.” James says.
James walks up to the windows of the bridge. Looking out, he sees the faint lights of the Governor Parr fading in the distance. “You’ll get yours… Someday…” Turning, he walks behind the Lagos guards as they drag George and Harvey to the med-lab. Lagos guards begin activating maintenance droids and start collecting the weapons and bodies. Some guards begin to reprogram the Baychimo’s computer, giving control to the Woods brothers. Others work on the Lagos Depot computer core, undoing the damage that Michael Cost had done.
Hours after the battle ended, George was in surgery, his leg being stitched up and his face being partially reconstructed. Harvey quickly awoke, finding himself on a gurney with James sitting nearby.
“Are you alright?” James asks.
“Yeah…” Harvey replies as he sits up on the gurney. “Just a splitting headache and some very sore muscles.”
“Well, the tests and scans came back. You’re fine. No serious damage. You’re free to go. You should go to your quarters and rest.” James says, standing up.
Harvey nods in agreement as his turns on the gurney, placing his feet gently on the ground. He leaves the med-lab and walks towards his quarters, swerving around a maintenance droid every now and then. He presses his hand against the wall as he faces the closed door, almost too weak to press the button and open it. He manages to do so, and steps inside. The door closes behind him as he sits on his bed.
Opening the drawer of his nightstand, he grabs a glass, a bottle of green liquor. He reaches for a small bottle of painkillers hidden deeper within the drawer. Unable to reach it, he pulls hard on the drawer in frustration. The force shakes loose a small drive that was placed inside. Taped around it is a handwritten note. Harvey grabs the bottle of pills and takes a few, drinking the liquor straight out of the bottle. He pours more into his glass, then caps the bottle and sets it down, grabbing the drive and gently peeling off the note.
Opening it he reads,
“Dear Michael.
I’m sorry that things had to happen the way that they did. I apologize for any pain I may have caused you, especially if you are dead and someone else is reading this for you. If you are in fact alive, then please accept a copy of all of my work on this drive. I’m sure you’d love to use it someday for yourself. Perhaps our two slave armies will collide in the future? Wouldn’t that be fun?!
Sincerely,
Michael Cost”
Harvey holds the drive up to the light and thinks to himself. He looks over the drive, and then sets it down on the nightstand. He finds the strength to get up and walk to the door. Opening it, he looks outside and whistles to a Lagos guard.
“Yes, Sir?” The guard says as he stands at attention.
“I need you to go down to the med-lab and tell James Woods that I found something extremely important that he’ll want to see. He should come see me in my quarters as soon as he is able.” Harvey says.
“Understood!” The guard says before turning and marching off.
As James sits outside of the room where George is being operated on, the Lagos guard approaches him, delivering Harvey’s message. James stands and knocks on the door. A Lagos crewmember with medical training opens the door.
“How much longer?” James asks.
“We’ll be done in a matter of minutes. The damage was extensive but mostly cosmetic. He’ll be awake in a few hours and ready to be discharged tomorrow, although he’ll need to come back for regular wound cleaning and a bandage change for a good week or so.” The doctor replies.
“Alright then. I’ll be back.” James says as he leaves with the guard.
Six hours later, George wakes up. He’s lying on a medical bed with the back arched at a gentle 30 degree angle. The doctor enters and explains the damage to his body. Handing a small mirror, George looks at his face.
“We were able to fix the damage almost entirely, and although the scarring will be extensive, it’ll heal. In a few years, it’ll look like you had moderate acne as a child.” The doctor says.
“So much for my stunning good looks. I’ll have to make do with just my charming personality.” George replies, lowering the mirror.
“Grow a thick beard.” The doctor says with a chuckle.
As he takes the mirror and walks away, George looks at his scarred face in the shiny chrome handle of his hospital bed. Taking up his right hand, he covers the stitches and staples, his positive façade quickly fading.
The next day, George is discharged from the med-lab. He immediately walks down to the docking bay, looking over the mass of corpses, still being cleaned up. He takes a seat on the floor and watches the Lagos guards executing the remaining living drones, as the maintenance droids clear up the bodies and repair the Depot. He watches on and sees James in the crowd, managing the cleanup. “It’s time for a change…”