The door chimed in an low pitched beep, it sounded like a DHC "Panzer" Heavy Blaster, but with a much more friendly tone. "Come in" Jack said in a apathetic voice. The door slid silently open, revealing a Liberty Navy officer. His worn face revealed he had more experience than his age should permit, most of it combat-related. Along the chest of his white dress uniform was the badge of a squadron commander. The metallic Avenger along it's surface looked as though it would launch into a barrel roll and smash an Outcast Saber with a well-placed mini razor blast. Acknowledging the officer's high rank, Jack saluted. "At ease" the officer almost whispered. "I have news about your uncle, he's MIA."
Jack's face turned a unnatural, pale, white. His hands started sweating, even though they where ice cold. Not unlike a life-or-death dogfight would have left him. He felt an involuntary shudder go through his spine. Then his training took over. "Where was his last known location?" he said automatically. "D4, Al...." Jack cut him off, like a drill sergeant might cut off a new recruit. "I'll prime my Liberator for launch." "You don't get it Jack," the office said with a hint of compassion "we lost him in Alaska." Jack snapped, not even bothering to comprehend the statement "I don't care, I'll find him!" The officer snapped back "You wanna bet your life on it?" Jack stopped half way out the door. "How long has he been missing?"
"Five hours."
Jack had never been to Alaska, but from what he had heard, it sounded like a good place to get lost in. "We'll find him" the officer assured him confidently.
They never did. A gunboat that was sent out on his last probable heading was ripped apart by an "Unknown obstacle" as a low security clearance Naval officer put it. Of course the LSF agents who read it knew exactly what the obstacle was, and inferred the fate of the lone Avenger pilot. Everyone, that was, except for agent Michael Watson.
Watson was just the sort of agent the LSF like. There are agents who violate laws and do questionable things because they're wildcards who like doing it, then there are those who do it because they feel they're protecting Liberty. He was the latter. He walked through prison Station Fairbanks's dark corridors. The halls where so dark that the crack guard force patrolling it wore night vision goggles. The idea was that an escapee couldn't find his way out in the dark, that is, if he wasn't dead from the security officers or auto turrets. Watson's goggles illuminated a boring hallway, consisting of flat, grey walls with slots where the auto turrets where concealed. He walked fifty meters down the corridor until he turned left into an unlabeled door that was as plain as the walls surrounding it and into a fully lit room. Inside was a massive computer, standing fully ten feet tall, five feet long. It seemed to be part of the wall, but the console, which spanned the length of the computer, was a myriad of lights and buttons. Doctors and technicians walked solemnly in bright white lab coats, talking in hushed tones about maximum-security matters, likely concerning the biological makeup of Nomads. "Good morning Mike" the head doctor called out from across the room. Her voice served to counteract the gloom surrounding the station. "Come to check on the patient, I assume?" Michael walked over to the view screen.
[color=#FFFFFF][font=Garamond]Subject: Thomas Henry Ryan
Age: 47
Weight: 213 lbs.
Height: 5'11
Eye Color: Green
Hair Color: Blonde
STATUS: Unconscious, all vital signs functioning in acceptable perameters.
NHGEP[Nomad-Human Genetic Experimental Program]:
Has been injected with NOMAD GENE #000000027453927837451
Effect positive; Enhanced neural activity in left hemisphere.
Watson thought back to when he had trapped Tom's fighter out in the middle of nowhere in Alaska. Tom was pleased to see a friendly IFF, until his ship was wasted by the agent's Avenger. He was one of the few selected to be part of the Navy's new Nomad experiment program, and one of even fewer that survived the genetic enhancements. With a little more luck, Tom would wake up in his bunk. A high ranking officer would explain to him in simple terms how he had narrowly survived a major attack by some pirate organization, and was to be promoted. Actually, he would use his new "powers" to fight the Nomads, as the director would say, "bring peace to Liberty." He would serve Liberty, completely unaware of his body's rapid deterioration as a side effect of the gene. But that was small sacrifice, Michael told himself.
"Reactor?" "Check"
"Engines?" "Check"
"Weapons?" "Check"
"Shields?" "Check"
"Countermeasures?" "Check"
"Alright, Lambda 5, you're go to launch, take your wing along the pre-routed patrol path, but be advised there is still a search for Lt. Tom Ryan, relevant data has already been uploaded to your ship's computer. Stay frosty out there!"
"Understood, Missouri, all fighters, set route to Zone-21"
The standard exchange between the Missouri's flight control and a squadron commander was always boring, despite the new controllers attempt to liven it with official military talk, which most veterans reserved for combat situations. Commander William "Mack" Mackenzie locked his fighter in on the coordinates and put the throttle to cruise. He set his head back against the annoyingly thin head cushion and thought about last week. He had to tell some kid his uncle was MIA in Alaska, the worst part of his job, he thought as he flew through the jump gate. Another long range patrol, the Navy was trying to map out the position of the Nomad forces, as they assumed they had a jump hole to enter Alaska other than through Minor. The few hours he spent flying around where spent joking with his wing mates about the latest developments of the Manhattan plasmaball team. That is, until, Lt. Harrison picked up a faint Liberty fighter black box transmitter and tractored it in. "I'm running it through the fighter registry...wait...we gotta match! It's Ryan's" "Play it back," Mack said "and fast forward to the end."
>>FF>>=+1.57.35
>PLAY>
The gun cam was in it's usually grainy, slightly colored hue. Likely due to damage from whatever was out in the middle of Alaska. The system's low visibility didn't help either.
Tom's comm flipped on.
"Good to see ya LSF, I taken heavy damage from Nomad fighters and need assistance."
The LSF officer responded quickly
"This is LSF agent Michael Watson, we have a growing Nomad presence in the area, form up and let's get outta here!"
"Rodger LSF, get on my wing and let's go."
The gun camera then recorded Tom's Avenger turn it's tail to the agent, the Liberty energy weapons began smashing it's hull. The Avenger began wild maneuvers as Tom screamed over the headset.
"LSF WE HAVE FRIEND FIRE, HOLD FIRE, REPEAT HOLD FIRE, REPEAT"
*Static*
TRANSMISSION TERMINATED: BLACK BOX EJEECTED AFTER SHIP DESTRUCTION
<Stop>
"Am I the only one that saw that, Mack?"
"No" Mack responded solemly.
Another wingman chimed in "We should report this at one."
"No way" another wingman objected "we seen somethin' we shouldn't uv' the Navy's gonna put us away for life if they find out.
"Agreed" said Mack "Boys, this was just a routine patrol, you didn't see or hear nothing, understood. Now let's return to base."
The squadron return to The Missouri, reporting another boring patrol. Mack took the black box and took the next transport to Ft. Bush. He knew exactly who was going to see it.
The holovisual showed the same thirty seconds of footage over and over again. Each time Jack leaned a bit closer as if he was fixed on some unknown and invisible detail, until Mack flipped it off. "Kid, you've already seen everything, so get your head back to the present!" Jack's head snapped up towards Mack's and for what seemed almost an eternity, no one bothered to move, not a single noise was made, they both stood in utter silence. Mack sat down on the small, metal chair, and Jack finally did the same. "Look, you know what happened, now you have to make a choice, nobody knows you saw this, so you can be smart and pretend like you never saw this, live a good life, and be a successful, outstanding Liberty citizen." Mack said, somewhat sympathetically.
Jack pondered this for a moment. Logically, the commander was right, but he'd seen people get so wrapped up in reason that they forgot what really mattered. He looked around his sparse apartment, the plain bed, the living space, and the restroom. He had a nostalgic feeling, because he knew he'd never see them again. "No, I won't betray Liberty by living a lie."
Mack turned, and a mile cracked across his face. "That's just what I was hoping you'd say."
Lt. Collins sat at the Missouri's bar and ordered some drinks. He wanted to forget he ever saw that weird stuff out in Alaska. He didn't care and didn't want to got involved with someone else's problems. "Look, jus' gimme something strong." He said half-heartedly. "Oh, we'll give you something strong" a man said as a needle went into his neck.
"Poor guy's had too much to drink...let's get him to his room" An LSF agent said to another quite loudly. Watson helped the other agent drag him to their private room in a remote part of the ship.
Collins began waking up and was startled by the two. "Calm down" Watson said quietly "we're here to make a deal. You saw something in Alaska, and we're willing to give you...a bonus...to keep quiet about it."
Collins was almost about to thank the men, but he supposed he should act honorable about it.
"Why shouldn't I inform my comrads of your betrayal, I have rights, you know!"
Watson chuckled "That's exactly what your wingman said, and you're right, but he was unfortunately killed by a Lane Hacker yesterday. For your own safety, please accept this...gift."
Collin's face turned deathly pale. "Uh...yeah...I'll..uh...take it."
"It's good to now there are some reasonable people in the navy, goodnight." Another needle put out Collins, and he awoke with a million credit "bonus" in his account.
"Prep your ship for launch, and tell whoever your squadron commander is that you'll be gone awhile. Oh, and change your ship's ID and mark it as Navy." Jack turned to Mack "Where are we going?"
Mack continued "We'll have to move fast to...oh...we're going to the only people who can find your uncle."
"Specifically?"
Mack turned around, his voice lowered, as though he was hiding the sound from a microphone "Tell me what you know about the Order."
Michael leaned back in his cockpit and studied the ship's preprogramed flight path. It would intersect Officer Ryan's patrol path near a pirate base, where any accident would easily be explained. The LSF wanted more subjects for NHGEP, and Jack's DNA was similar to Tom's. His ambush was perfect, despite the fact he had only spent a few days planning it. It gave him a feeling of accomplishment to see an operation completed flawlessly, no matter what it's implications. He stopped his Avenger and waited.
"Look kid, just put down the gun, and..."
"Quiet!" Jack was trained to negotiate with terrorist, but he wasn't in the mood. The .45 projectile pistol was centered on Mack's chest. "You wanted to recruit me for your "Order" so for all I know you shot up Tom. Do I look like a terrorist to you!?!?"
"Yeah kid, I'm a terrorist like your government says, just like your government says your uncle's dead. You're smarter than that, so snap out of it and drop the gun." Jack was motionless for a few seconds, then he pointed the gun towards the floor.
Mack relaxed "Look kid, the world's not so black and white. We may attack Liberty, but it's because we want to protect them. Most of the Order is made of defected Libertonians. That's because they recognize what their government's doing, and want to stop it. The navy's doing Nomad experiments, like all the Rhinelanders say. We both know that's why the agent attacked your uncle. I know it's a big step, but you gotta make it.
"So I join your Order, and you'll free my uncle."
"No guarantees, but protecting people from Nomads is what we're about."
Jack looked down, he knew Mack was right, but his prejudice for those people would be hard to get over.
"Alright, I'm in."
"Alright, kid, we got about 60K to go, you ever been through a jump hole?"
Jack though back to the police chief's words at the last briefing. "Never, an' I mean NEVER go through the jump holes!! We lost another Patriot today, 'e went through the hole and never came back. So if you flatfoots think you can pull a fast one and skip on 'ur patrol, THINK AGAIN AND STAY AWAY FROM THE RED RINGS!!!!!
Dismissed."
Jack watched the number next to his distance indicator drop down towards zero as he dodged the odd looking ice crystals. He would ask why they looked like that later. On occasion, he heard a navy patrol hail them, but they where growing less frequent and the need to evade Nomads was increasing. Finally he saw a greenish sparkling circle. He put his fighter right through and closed his eyes. he opened them to see a vortex swirling past him followed by rocks and green gas. "This is Order patrol Epsilon 6 to Mack, I see you found another one, we'll take him in."
"Well, kid, follow 'em to Toledo and put down your fighter there. I have work to do." With that he headed back to Alaska.
For six weeks Jack was training for eighteen hours a day. First was physical training, including strength, endurance, marksmanship, and unarmed combat. Next was mental exercises, a combination of academic learning and strange exercises designed to build resistance to Nomad infestation, as well as interrogation and brainwashing. Finally, the piloting lessons covering skirmishes, special operations, full scale wars, search and rescue, and everything in between. After passing his final tests, he was awarded full membership in the Order.
Mack had promised to try and find information on his uncle while undercover, and he now had the skills to defend himself, Liberty, The Order...and all of humanity.
Now was the time to begin his search.
End of Part 1