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"... Mommy... Mommy... Where are you mommy...?"


"... I'm all alone without you..."


"... Where... are you...?"


"... Why wasn't daddy moving...?"


"... Why was daddy covered in red...?"


"... Why did daddy not look back at me...?"


"... Mommy... I need you mommy..."


"... Please... it's so dark... in here..."





"... Mommy.......... sniff........... help............... me..................."
































... What... be that again...?


Katarn Dragonbourne once again opened his eyes to find himself where he last left himself: on the Captain's chair of the Orocin's Bridge...


The emptiness of the room from lack of people gave an eerie peace: the consoles surrounding the Bridge were buzzing actively amongst themselves in various notes and tones like an orchestra of beeps and whistles; the low lighting, due in part to helping the old veteran sleep better, now made an uneasy atmosphere of darkness and dread on the now-awake man; the windows, however, that surrounded the walls of the Bridge in a 360-degree vision, were shining with a deep-orange hue from the Omega-7 Nebula, the light splashing parts of the room in dark-orange.


It seems that the Prison Liner Orocin had just entered a trade-lane, and soon pulses of light were vibrating past the Bridge windows.


[color=#99FFFF]... Hmmm... this be a soft picture in me heart...


Suddenly a nearby intercom goes off in static, then the frequency quickly adjusted itself into a relatively-monotonous female voice:

~~~PLEASANT MORNING, KATARN. WHAT IS THE RESULT OF YOUR RECUPERATION?~~~

The old man was just about to reply with positive feedback when suddenly his head goes off into a wave of splitting headaches, "ARGH!!! CURSE THESE DAMN DREAMS!!!"

~~~SCANS INDICATE YOU ARE SUFFERING UNDER LEVEL 1 SYMPTOMS, KATARN~~~

"Eh? Level 1 symptoms...? What be that mumbo-jum--- PFAAARGH!!!" The headache pulses again, this time with a vengeance.


"... Argh... must... concentrate..." Katarn was through this before... The solution was found long ago by accident...





*****Flashback


"What ye be doin, Katarn?! Ye be givin up, now?! It be only the third day!"


"... Ugh... I be... havin a headache... from a bad dream..."


"Ye pansy! Why, if I be yer daddy I be slappin ye silly fer yer weakness! I be grabbin the floggah, pullin ye by the ear and be strappin ye to me knee te be wacked silly till the Gold mines be screamin yer name and be weepin tears o' silver! I be makin sure yer ancesters be wailin an' screamin in despair as each slap o' me hand be shakin the very bonds ye have with 'em!


"... Sir... I be... not in the moooood..."


"Ye damn right I be not in the mood, ye lead-bellied, toad-stoopin, back-sassin, hookie-playin, food-gluttonin, ship-arsin, danger-seekin, underwear-grabbin, woman-pissin, frakker-chippin..."


"... Must... drown out... nooooiiiiiise..."


Flashback*****





The old veteran took in and released three breaths, each one slower than the former, until the last one he held it, then released it. His senses started to relax, and he went into a deep sleep... In the darkness of his eyes being closed he focused on a single, imaginary point in the space, and then focused all of his energy into that point...


... And then... he felt... peace...



































"... Screams of pain... Ark of hope..."


"... New way... Many paths... Revelation..."


"... The roads less traveled... The signs less seen..."


"... Tears of Joy... Wails of Grace..."


"... The Black Sheep... Welcomed with desparation..."


"... Doubt... Test... Victory..."


"... Fear for the past... Onwards to the future..."





"... Leadership... Courage... Faith..."

































When Katarn was done, and that he came back to reality, his headache had all but disappeared...

~~~SCANS INDICATE YOU HAVE ALREADY MASTERED LEVEL 2. LOGIC DICTATES KATARN MUSTN'T EXPERIENCE LEVEL 1 SYMPTOMS AT LEVEL 2 MASTERY. LOGIC DOESN'T COMPUTE. DATABASE SYSTEMS INCONSISTENT WITH CURRENT FIRST-HAND DATA~~~

The old man raises his eyebrow at the computer's words, [color=#99FFFF]"... Uh... what ye be sayin, Elizabeth...?"


All of a sudden the Scanners' Consoles go off in a whistle as the ship nears the end of the trade-lane.

~~~KATARN. SCANS INDICATE THAT TWO NOTABLE VESSELS ARE COMING UP UPON LONG-RANGE SCANNERS~~~

"What be these ships ye say...?"

~~~SCANS FURTHER INDICATE THAT THE NEAREST OBJECT IS A ZONER AQUILON-CLASS BATTLESHIP UNDER THE IDENTIFICATION OF BEACONSFIELD, CODE-SCARLET THREAT LEVEL AND IS CURRENTLY IN ORBIT ABOVE OUTPOST FREISTADT~~~


~~~THE SECOND OBJECT IS A ZONER FIGHTER NOT REGISTERED INTO CURRENT SHIP DATABANKS UNDER THE IDENTIFICATION OF BAN'EYK, CODE-RED THREAT LEVEL AND IS ALSO CURRENTLY IN ORBIT ABOVE OUTPOST FREISTADT~~~


~~~WHAT ARE YOUR ORDERS REGARDING THESE TWO SHIPS, KATARN?~~~

The old veteran's eyes raised with suspicion. ... An Aquilon?! HERE?! IN OMEGA-7?!...


... Hmmm... I wonder what the purpose be o' the Zoners bringing here a ship o' that size...


... But... I also wonder if they be hearin o' her... A Zoner captain be bound te know somethin, eh?


"Elizabeth... Proceed te go closer te Freistadt and establish a secure channel with the Aquilon-Class Capital Ship..." Katarn sits back at the chair upon finishing his command.

~~~AFFIRMATIVE, KATARN. PROCEEDING TOWARDS CONTACTS~~~

As the Orocin disengaged from the trade-lane sequence upon reaching the other side Freistadt Base came into view... as well as the two alleged ships the computer notified the old veteran about.




The first observable ship was, of course, the biggest one: the Beaconsfield looked dominating over the relatively-weak Orocin; its turrets, though some were designed to be for mining, most of them were powerful and scary in their own right; the armor was glistening over the orange Omega-7 sun, a testament to the owner's love and care, making sure the crew in it would feel safe.


The second ship was a Virage: although it didn't look like much it was actually armed to the teeth; its black, foreboding hull would strike fear into any normal civilian, while the weapon systems would prove such fears very well...


Elizabeth established a local channel towards the two ships so as both of them could respond accordingly. The old veteran stood up from his chair and looked onward at the mining vessels, "...Uhm... Captain o' the Zoners... May ye be able te help an' ol' man in his time o' need?"


For a moment it seemed the ship didn't respond to his hail... Then the comms came alive when one of the Holographic projectors were showing an reasonably-elder man somewhere in his early 30's: he was the captain of the Beaconsfield, as proof of the source of the video feed, "How may I be of help?"


Katarn's eyes shone with a now-relaxed tone, and he put on his usual wide grin, "... Thank ye lad...


"I be lookin fer someone... She be a Corsair lassy... be 50 o' 40 years since I be seein her, and... I be lookin fer her fer a looooong time... Her name be... Clare Campeche...


"... Have ye seen her, o' at least even heard o' her?"


Another long pause came from the man, apparently he was thinking of an appropriate answer to the old veteran. Soon he was ready to reply, and looked at the old veteran with an intentional look, "Hmmm... If it's a Corsair you seek I would suggest heading South. I haven't met anyone of that name... Although you may find the information you seek deeper in the Omegas."


Somehow the old veteran was expecting that generic answer, "Aye, but... I be comin there already...


"I be lookin fer her... She be travelin all across Sirius, seekin fer... somethin... I be not sure, but..."


The captain raised an eyebrow at the reply, but his eyes were getting sadder as the talk continued, "Hmmm... Interesting... The only other alternative would be to search the Omicrons which are beyond the Omegas."


Another generic answer... but... somewhat helpful, actually, "... Hmmm... Maybe... It be a looong time since I be goin te the Omicrons..."


Finally, the man's face looked consoling, and he said in a gentle tone, "... I understand how you feel... I too have lost someone precious, although I am sure of her fate...


"My heart goes out to you, sir."


The old veteran was touched at the captain trying to emphasize with him. He smiled back with a sad feeling inside, "... Aye then... I be sorry fer ya, captain...


"... *sigh* Thank ye fer yer time..."


The elderly man turns to another person somewhere in his part of the feed hidden from view, and nods an affirmative to him. He then looks back at the old veteran and says, "Take this, and may luck be with you."


All of a sudden, one of the consoles beep excitedly upon the man's finish of his sentence:

~~~KATARN. SCANS INDICATE THAT THE BEACONSFIELD HAS SENT THIS VESSEL AN ADDITION OF 1 MILLION SIRIUS CREDITS ONLY~~~

The consoles brighten up again when the comms respond once again, only this time with a different voice: it was the pilot of the Virage, "I only wish we could help you better."


Katarn couldn't believe his ears: was Elizabeth saying that this noble captain he was speaking to had just decided to give away 1 Million Credits to help this old man in his quest?


The old veteran's grin grew wider still, and his eyes sparkle with a new light, "... Ah! A generous gift ye be givin!!! Thank ye, HAHAHA!!!... Now me spirit's a'been raised, thanks te ye, captain."


The man on the video feed returns an appreciative smile at the veteran, "If I see her I will be sure to look you up, captain."


"...Aye... Thank ye once again fer helpin this ol' man in his time o' need..." By this time he was on the verge of starting to shed tears from the kindness shown towards him.


"You are quite welcome." He nods in affirmation.


The old veteran turns towards the intercom and says to the computer, "Aye, Elizabeth... Let's be off, now..."


But before the ship started to go off Katarn remembered something. He turned back to the holographic video feed of the elderly man and said, "... Oh... and... if ye find her, captain... tell her...


"... I be keepin me promise te her..."


The elderly man nods once again in reply, "... I understand... Farewell, captain."


As the Orocin ventured off and continued towards the Battleship Hood, he remarks loudly to himself, unknown to him that the holographic feed with the Beaconsfield was still on, "... Ah... te be young again, HAHAHAHAHA!!!"

~~~KATARN. VESSEL HAS ARRIVED ON HOLMAN OUTPOST~~~

Katarn Dragonbourne opened his eyes to find himself on the king-sized bed of the Captain's Quarters: when he first came inside the Orocin it was too dusty to merit sleeping inside, but ever since the Prison Liner was finally operated by a Humanoid Captain the robotic workers of the ship were reactivated under the courtesy of Elizabeth the on-board AI to maintain the ship back to its former glory, and renovate the entire ship from top to bottom.


Now, the Captain's Quarters looked splendid: it was a medium-sized room with a high ceiling located just a bit forward to the Bridge, had one large window that could instantly turn either translucent or opaque by Katarn's whim, and the walls were shining with a golden wallpaper that had intricate black flower-patterns on their trims; there were three doors within the room, one to the outside, to the left for the private bathroom that contained a comfortable bathtub, and to the right was a small, private kitchen; there was only one light source, a neon chandelier, placed in the center of the ceiling.


All around the walls, corners, tables and even ceiling were many guns of extremely-exotic origin mounted on neat racks and stands, ranging from lines of hand grenades of different shapes and sizes, to a glistening, well-polished rifle of Corsair-make mounted meticulously on one of the walls with a wooden stand, to even a full rack boasting differently-shaped, colored and calibrated pistols that seem to have come from all over Sirius, and even a Kusarian Naginata stood just beside the bed; the old veteran was a collector of special-arms, and it was a hobby of his to have in his possession the rarest, most exotic, and possibly most deadly forms of weapons known to man; all of them were well-maintained and taken care off, and though some even hail back as far as 200 A.S. the quality of care the old veteran invested into them makes them look as good as if they were made just a week ago.


Minus the scores of arms in the room, there were two desks free of any documents made of Flax wood that were backed with curved, cotton-downed chairs, a large wooden Bretonian-style apparel wardrobe to the left side of the room, a large wall-attached touch-screen monitor to the opposite end, and in between was the large Bretonian-style king-sized bed.


For now, Katarn was wearing his usual plain light-blue sleeping pajamas when he got up from the bed. He stretched himself and popped a few stiff joints before hopping off the bed with a soft thud. As he walked over to his wardrobe he made a large and long yawn to himself, but in the process popped his jaw with an uncomfortable clack... [color=#99FFFF]... Pfah... I be gettin too ol' fer this...


Surprisingly, when he opens his wardrobe the only clothes there were identical costumes to his usual rugged and war-torn apparel. ... Ah... Ol' faithfuls... These new clothes be unlike these babies I be havin ever since I be a strappin young lad, hahah... mass-production my arse, HAH! Those clothes be not o' the same caliber as these... lasted me whoooole life and been through many adventures, and they only be makin me look cool and experienced, HAHAHA!!!

~~~SCANS INDICATE YOUR CURRENT WARDROBE APPAREL IS AT AN AVERAGE 40.67% INTEGRITY. ELIZABETH ADVISES KATARN TO ALLOW TAILORING DIVISION TO RECREATE A NEW SET OF CLOTHES MATCHING EXACT CURRENT APPAREL STYLE AND CUT~~~

"What do ye mean 40% integrity?! These clothes be o' fine art o' worksmanship! No other clothes be able te---" The old veteran stops himself suddenly, "... Wait... Ye say ye can make a brand-new set o' clothes that be just like ol' faithfuls?!"

~~~AFFIRMATIVE, KATARN. MEMORY BANKS ON SUBJECT OF TAILORING SUGGEST CURRENT APPAREL IS RE-CREATABLE BY AN ACCURACY OF 95.00%~~~


~~~TRENCH-COAT IS MATCHING BRETONIAN DETECTIVE STYLE CANVASS TRENCH-COAT DATING BACK TO 766 A.S., BUT WAS DECOMMISSIONED IN FAVOR OF CURRENT CONSTABLE UNIFORM COMMISSIONED IN 782 A.S. DUE TO SIMPLICITY IN MAINTENENCE~~~


~~~ VEST IS A MOLLY TYPE-4 METAMESH COMBAT-SERVICE ARMOR THAT WAS DECOMMISSIONED IN 784 A.S. IN FAVOR OF THE MOLLY TYPE-6 HYPERMESH LIGHT ARMOR DUE TO BETTER COST-EFFECTIVENESS AND EASE OF MASS PRODUCTION~~~


~~~ DESERT-CAMO CARGO PANTS WAS A COMMON FAVORITE OF ZONER FASHION IN THE LATE 770'S FOR ITS RUGGEDNESS AND EASE OF ACCESS TO POCKETS AND LIGHTNESS AND MOBILITY IN MOVEMENT~~~


~~~ COMBAT BOOTS WERE LIBERTY NAVY ISSUE 79 STEEL-TOE BOOTS THAT HAVE FALLEN IN SERVICE TO THE CURRENT, MORE LIGHT-WEIGHT AND EASIER-TO-MAINTAIN MEGAMESH-POLYMER-ALLOY ISSUE 92 BOOTS NOW COMMON IN ALL LIBERTY NAVY UNIFORMS TO DATE~~~


~~~CURRENT INVENTORY STOCKS CONTAIN ORIGINAL MATERIALS NECESSARY FOR 5 SETS OF APPAREL, BUT ELIZABETH ADVISES KATARN TOWARDS USAGE OF STRONGER AND MORE DURABLE ALLOT MATERIALS FOR BETTER QUALITY AND PROTECTION, SACRIFICING ONLY 9.87% OF CURRENT APPAREL'S ACCURACY IN FAVOR OF 200% BONUS PROTECTION~~~

Katarn's mind was unable to catch up with Elizabeth's technicality and complexity of her first four statments, only listening passively as she went; but the last statement piqued his interest back, "... 200% better protection, ye say, Elizabeth?


"... Hmmm... Very well... Proceed with the tailorin, then, HAHAHA!!! I be gettin excited fer a brand-new trench-coat te have, HAHAAA!!!" He grinned intently at himself.


"... But anyway... Ye say the Orocin has arrived at Outpost Holman?"

~~~AFFIRMATIVE, KATARN. VESSEL IS CURRENTLY IN ORBIT ABOVE OUTPOST HOLMAN~~~

"Well, what're ye waitin fer, Elizabeth?! Establish a comms channel with Holman Traffic Control te begin dockin procedures with the base... I be wonderin if the wars really be that bad on the people here in the Taus, HAHAHAHAHA!"




When Katarn stepped through that portal door from the Mooring Port and into Outpost Holman the old veteran couldn't help his eyes widen even just a bit from the sight he first saw: covering the entire section of hallways, corridors, rooms and even the floor were throngs and scores of sickly, tired, frail, beaten-up, bruised, battered, wounded, dirty, and worn-out refugees hailing from all across the Tau Systems due to the constant warring within the systems; their voices were crying out in anguish, in fear, in dread, in harbinger, their eyes showing nothing but pain and suffering at the loss of everything they had when they came to this lowly outpost in the middle of nowhere in the hopes of finding some sort of rescue; most of them looked nothing more than beggars and rag-tag civilians, and even the children that wandered there were crying their hearts out in pleas for help from the situation they were in; some of them were even covered in bandages and missing some of their limbs from recent accidents, and even fewer had their bandages insufficient to cover up their wounds entirely, with blood dripping slowly from gruesome stumps that used to be arms or legs.


Some of them were even once pilots that fought in the war, but when their ships blew up and their cargo pods set adrift they were found by the IMG that combed the fields in search of minerals... and those were just the lucky ones... There were other stories of different backgrounds: freelancers, civilians, miners, even scientists were here, begging and pleading with all their might for any outside aid to help them.


Katarn couldn't help but cringe at the fish-eye view of the results the two wars currently going on in the Taus had on these poor souls... The old veteran knew the feeling... he once was just like one of them... back when he was still very young...


... Just after he and Clare Campeche were separated by that one accident... long ago...





*****Flashback


"AAAHHHHHHH! SENOR KATAAAAARN!"


"GYAH!!! ACK! The fire's too strong! I can't reach you!"


"NOOO!!! Senor Katarn! You must find a way!"


"I...... I...... I can't! It's too hot, Clare! I can't reach!"


"But you said... You'd never leave me...! YOU PROMISED!"


"I'm... sorry... Clare... I can't keep this one promise... I..."


"... Senor Katarn..."


"... So I'll do this instead: I promise... I PROMISE TO LOOK FOR YOU, CLARE!!! I'LL NEVER GIVE UP!!! I'LL COME BACK FOR YOU, I SWEAR!!!"


"... Okay... that's a---"


"AAAAAHHHH!!! SENOR KATAAAAARN!!!"





"... CLAAAAAAAAAAAAARE!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"


Flashback*****





"Hey....... HEEEEY!" Katarn was interrupted from his flashback when he felt an IMG man shake him on the shoulder, "Hey buddy! Are you alright?"


The old veteran came back to reality and looked up at the young man with still-dazed eyes, "... Eh...? Huh...? Ehrm... Ah. Yes... Yes I be alright, HAHAH!" he puts on his usual grin and gets back his eager composure.


"Well, as you can see we're quite busy taking care of these sorry lot... What are you here for, anyway...? And make it quick. I haven't got all day."


Katarn looked around a bit for a moment before continuing, "I be... lookin fer a Junker... 5'11"... fine build... not too bright fer himself... His name be Charles Breeches... Ye seen him anywhere?"



The IMG riles his head back in surprise, "CHARLES-FRAKKIN-BREECHES?! You're looking for THAT guy? What the hell do you want with--- Pfah... doesn't matter, so long as you get him outta this place; he's been worth nothing but trouble ever since he got here... You'll be doing all of us a favor if you can convince that stupid oaf to get his arse off the floor and into your ship alone."


"Well... It be important te do so, soes it be not much o' a problem... I be takin him off yer hands, then... Where might he be?"


The man points a stink-eye down the corridor filled with refugees, "He's somewhere to the end of that hallway... He's wearing a black jacket and brown leather pants. You can't miss him... Seriously, he smells like an unwashed garbage bin on a summer afternoon: not even the other refugees want to stick close to him, and most of them already smell bad enough as they are, HAH!"


The old man, after the IMG finishes his sentence, goes off into the direction he was given, letting his nose guide the way...

As Katarn got closer and closer, the smell only became ever the more unbearable: it was as if a battle had taken place, and the corpses had been given hours to rot. Slowly the density of the refugees did diminish as he went past, until eventually only a handful remained at the location.


By the time the old veteran reached the end of the hallway there was only one man sitting in a corner: his brown hair was messy and unkempt; his face was extremely dirty; his black jacket and brown pants had patches in them; and all of him looked like it went through a trash compactor. His hands were shielding his face, but no tears were falling down.


The old man took out a portable gas-mask from his inner trench-coat pockets and placed it towards his face to cover his nose and mouth, and approached the squatting man, "Eh... Ye Charles Breeches?"


The man shook his hands down and looked up to the veteran's wry grin, [color=#000000]"... Yeah... I'm Breeches... What's it to you? You looking to tell me to bathe again, cause I sure as hell tried that many times, even if most would say I didn't..."


The old man grinned sincerely this time at the dry sentence he heard, "Heh... No, lad... Actually, I be comin te get ye.


"Ye have a sister that be... worried bout you... She said ye lost yer ship while passin by the Taus, see, and she can't get ye fer she be too busy... Soes I be sent here te get ye, lad."


"... Amanda?" He stood up from his squat with a slight scowl in his face, "... That arse of a sister wouldn't care for someone me... No one in the Junkers would ever care for someone like me... I've only been lots of trouble to them: I'm not that smart, and neither am I gifted with any special talents or such, and I only bring bad luck to those around me... I couldn't tell the difference between a piece of scrap from a Gate Lane White Box even if I was held at gun-point by a Corsair hell-bent on revenge... Hell, when I left the Junkers a long time ago everyone was practically throwing tomatoes and screaming at me never to come back... And I was happy not to...


"... So tell me one... good... reason... why the HELL should I EVER go back, HUH?!" He turns his back to the veteran, and does a grim chuckle as he continues, "Heh... I suppose sis wants to be the person to finally deal me in...


"Well... Oh no, sister... not this time, you whore... Charles here's finally smart enough to look through your petty ruse..." He clenches his fist and thrusts it high up in the air in spite.


The veteran listened intently through the whole story. Finally, he made a small cough to get through to the man's attention, then he replied, "Mr. Breeches... I be sorry fer yer past, and do not wish te be responsible fer another man's death...


"... But... Ye see, I be lookin fer someone... She be a Corsair lassy... It be a looong time since I saw her, and I still be lookin fer her after all these decades... Yer sister be sayin she has info on me friend, and her condition be te bring ye te her---"


"FRAK YOUR FRIEND!" The young man turns towards the veteran with a now-furious demeanor, "THIS IS A DECISION OF LIFE-AND-DEATH YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!!! If you take me to that whore of a sister, chances are she's going to kill me! Don't you REALIZE that?! I've spent my last 5 YEARS fighting with tooth and nail to survive, and now some... old guy, could just bring me to her as if everything would end up in flowers and perfumes?! I... don't... think so..."


He takes out a hidden pistol that was concealed from his jacket and aims it at the veteran's chest, "The only way you'll take me to her would be over MY DEAD BODY!"


The old veteran looked at the pistol, and narrowed his eyes to look at the man's serious face, "Laddy... It be not in my intentions te bring ye in by force... As much as possible, I be likin ye te be comin with me willin'ly, an' not only because it be easier, no...


"I be likin ye te come cause ye be feelin like it... If ye really are unwillin te come, then I be leavin ye, and I be lookin fer another source o' information, no problems and qualms with that...


"... But I be likin ye te come more, soes we can all go on with our lives, see...? So if there be anythin I can do te persuade ye te go te yer sister soes I get the information I need, I be happy te do it... Just name it, lad, and I be doin it." He gives off a sincere grin towards the Junker man.


"You know that isn't sufficient... How do I know you won't just break your promise and give me straight away when I enter your ship?"


"Laddy... Ma name's Katarn Dragonbourne... an' this ol' man ALWAYS keeps his promises... In fact, the only reason why I be lookin fer me friend after all these years be because I be keepin her promise, HAHAHAHAHAAAH!


"There be nothin else I have te persuade ye te believe in me good will apart from me word an' honor... but all I can do is be swearin in me name that I be keepin all the promises I be makin, lad... It be up te ye te trust in me..."


The Junker's eyes narrow down in suspicion, and thought for a few moments before responding, "... Hmmm... There are a few things that I'd like you to do before you take me to my sister...


"... First off... This station is filled to the brim with countless refugees from the Tau Wars going on... all needing help from various wounds and injuries, and have families waiting for their safe return in many places across Sirius... What I'd like you to do is bring in your crew here to heal the sick and injured, then take as many as you can back to their families and friends all across the colonies... and do this WITHOUT ASKING for ANY FORM of compensation... That's to prove your good intentions, old man."


The veteran riled his head back in surprise at the favor of the Junker, "WHAT?! B-b-but that will be takin many days! And I be only given a few weeks te bring ye to Dublin. How am I supposed te---"


"Oh? I thought you'd do ANYTHING to ensure that you'd keep your word, old man... Am I to say that you AREN'T CARING for these poor people that have more unfortunate circumstances than both of us combined?" He raises a suspicious eyebrow at the old veteran.


Katarn looks for a moment at the refugees surrounding the two: their lost lives; their cripples; their teary eyes; their hopelessness... He looked down in pity at these people, then turned back to the Junker, "... Aye... Ye be right... These people do need help, and they be probably have people missin them out there...


"... Fine... I be doin this... and I be doin it happily too, HAHAHA! I never knew ye had a heart fer these people in the first place, laddy! I assumed ye were a cold-hearted man judging from the words ye be sayin, HAHAHA!!!" The old veteran grinned and laughed joyously to himself, "Very well, lad..."


He took out a small datapad from one of his trench-coat pockets and activated it, "Elizabeth! Send in all o' the medical crews te heal the refugees from their plights and anguish, then send in security drones te round up as much people as ye can inside te recuperate their strength... We be takin them back te their homes and families as soon as we depart.... Is that understood?"

~~~AFFIRMATIVE, KATARN. MEDICAL AND SECURITY ROBOTS WILL BE SENT TO THE PREMISES IMMEDIATELY~~~

After he was done, Katarn puts away his PDA, then looks back to the Junker with his pistol still aimed at the old man's chest, "... So anythin' else ye be askin, lad?"


"The next favor is... personal... I've always wanted to feel the luxury life... feel the thrill to be rich, even for just a day... So after we take the refugees back to their respective homes we go to Planet Curacao and live there for a whole day... and YOU should pay for the expenses...


"This should... help me prepare for the eventuality that I'm going to die... You can understand this condition, right? Wouldn't you wanna do something memorable and exciting before you die, chump?"


Katarn grinned devilishly at the Junker, "Heheheh... Ye are a cheeky fellar ye are, laddy...


"Very well then... After I be bringin the refugees we be goin te Curacao and be spendin the rest o' your alleged last days makin ye feel happy... I can do that... No problems with that.


"... Anythin else?"


The Junker thought for a moment... Then slowly, he placed his pistol down into its holster and said, "... No... That should be it...


"... Okay then... I'll come along... At least I'll be fat and happy by the time we get there, heheheh..."

"Your dismembered right hand is now fully outfitted with a biomechanical artificial limb, Mr. Martinez. Please see if operation has been successful in recalibrating with your nervous system by testing out your new limb." The medical robot said to the groggy man with a sweet and soft, yet evidently-computerized voice.


He got up and looked at his new artificial hand: he gazed at the smooth backhand's covering that shielded the nanowirings handling the frame; then he overturned it and observed that the palm was lined with a thin layer of padding that allowed friction to occur on the otherwise-slippery alloys; he at first flinched, then open and closed, and soon was able to slowly wiggle his fingers about from side-to-side, which signaled the relative success of the operation.


The man looked around and found a small syringe: he tried to pick up the said object by the body, only to have the glass frame almost immediately break under the uncontrolled force of the fingers; he realized that he couldn't sense touch on this construct, and was disappointed with this.


But before he began to feel all the more sorry for himself his shoulder felt the strong presence of a robotic hand land on it with a thud: the man turned around to find Katarn smiling with condolence at him, [color=#99FFFF]"...Aye... I be understandin how ye feel... or the lack o' it, HAHAHAH... Nevertheless, laddy, with practice ye'll be able te work out yer limb, and be able te control yer strength in time... Believe me, fer I've been through it all..."


All around Outpost Holman different rooms were set up as temporary emergency departments and trauma centers for the refugees with minor or serious injuries: various medical robots with good bedside manners attended their patients with adequate skill, their techniques a bit outdated, but were nonetheless effective, and with their soothing voices and caring reflexes they felt confident in trusting their lives to these machines, which made the operations all the more easier; however with the inadequate stores of artificial alloys and medical supplies aboard the Orocin there was not much that these droids could do except treat the injuries from being life-threatening, or at least help alleviate the pain their patients' suffered; it was still helpful, and the refugees greatly appreciated their help.


The old veteran walked through the now-relieved crowds of people towards Charles Breeches, who was impressed at how good these medical robots were doing, "... Your robot crew sure is doing a mighty-fine job of taking care of these sorry lot, despite the lack of needed supplies to treat them all. I'm starting to feel great for asking this of you."


"No, it be not a problem at all, lad, HAHAHA!" The elderly man laughed contently at the young Junker, "I was hopin te do this when we got here anyway...


"But honestly I be not expectin the extent o' the sufferin o' the people here in the Taus... Me medicines an' artificial limbs be too few in numbers te treat them all properly, it seems... I be needin te take the most heavily-injured over te Cambridge Research Institute te get the right supplies o' medicine an' alloys fer their recuperation."


"Yeah... You're right, old man..." Charles walks over to a teddy bear lying around the floor and proceeds to give it to a little refugee girl who was crying her heart out in the middle of the hallway, "Here, girl... Have this to help you."


The girl was initially overjoyed to find the teddy bear, but was quickly repulsed at the man's utter stench; after she got the bear she ran as fast as she could away from the Junker, who only sighed in dismay at his rejection, "... I try to help people, and this is what I get...?"


"Ye can't help anyone smellin like THAT, lad, HAHAHAHAHA!!!" He was approached by the old veteran who placed an arm over his shoulder, "As the sayin goes: be helpin yerself before ye help others, eh?


"I guess it be high time fer ye an' the other refugees te go in the Orocin, eh? While yer at it, have Elizabeth clean ye up nice and deep... Wouldn't want ye te stink-bomb the rest o' the people ye be goin with while they be tryin te get their strengths back, eh? HAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!!


"Hah... Don't push it..."


The Orocin, despite being of large size, had its facilities seemingly designed to house only a number of people: the most that it could contain were 1000 healthy men and woman for a period of at least a year, but since the refugees needed more space to feel less restrictive and more open to replenishing their health each one had to occupy a room in the Sleeping Quarters fit for two, allowing for only 500 refugees to come along, with less than a hundred still bed-ridden for recovering from broken bones or other serious trauma, while the rest of them were fit enough to stand, and only some were put on Graviton-chairs to allow a certain degree of mobility.


Nevertheless, despite the Prison Liner being an old model with retro-fitted facilities, with the robot crew already done with the renovations and handling almost all the jobs needed to make them run smoothly, all of the facilities and bays were open for those willing to explore and see: the Hydroponics Bay sported a dazzling array of medium-scale farms of flora that served as soothing mini-parks for visitors to stay in; the Entertainment Center turned into a large library for those that loved to read; the Cafeteria, run by more robots, helped serve quality meals for those refugees that preferred not to have breakfast-in-bed; the Medical Bay was working around the clock to fix whatever injury was left that couldn't be treated while they were still on Holman; even Katarn's Captain's Cabin was turned into a small museum for those that were willing to explore and look at his special collections of exotic weapons.


As Katarn was walking in a hallway towards the Cafeteria he catches a group of kids talking amongst themselves about something that caught the ear of the old veteran, "C'mon, Jess! Don't be such a wuss! Let's go and see it before anybody else finds out."


"But Louise..." A chubby kid protests in dismay, "That door has some weird, scary-looking symbols on it. It's almost alien-like in origin... Could be keeping something scary behind those door, you know... like a curse or somethin."


"You and your curses..." A girl steps forward impatiently, "That door may hold some cool treasure or artifacts inside, you know... What's cooler than that?"


"Staying alive, for one... Besides, I don't think the good captain of this ship wouldn't wanna have a bunch of kids snooping around his rooms without his permission!"


The veteran interrupted their talking as he laughed boisterously behind them, "Hullo there, lads and lassies, HAHAHA!!! I be hearin ye have a door ye wants te see, eh?"


"Captain Katarn!" The kids answer in unison and were shocked to have the captain himself talking to them, "Captain Katarn, Captain Katarn! We've found a door not registered in the map the computer gave us, soes we want to go in and see what's inside!"


"Really...?" He thinks for a moment before continuing on, "... Well, truth is, I be still new te this ship anyway, HAHA! It sounds like fun te tag along with ye hip youngsters te see what this door be about... Who knows? Maybe this lassy here be right that there be some treasure about, eh? HAHAHAHAHAAAH!!!"


"See, Jess?! I told you the captain himself WANTS to see it!" The kids motioned for the old veteran to follow him, "C'mon! We'll show you the door we found!"


After a few minutes of walking the group finds themselves in front of a strange portal that was noticeably different from the rest of the ship: for one, it was a lot darker than the otherwise-silver lining of the ship's hallway; another was the strange, black symbols surrounding the frame which, although look eerie at first glance, seem to have a sort of comforting feeling on the old veteran.


"Here it is... Scary, huh?"


"Hmmm... That be weird indeed... I never knew a door like this be here... and it be VERY easy te notice such a thing... Maybe my eyes are playin on me now, HAHAH!"


The old man turns to view a nearby intercom hanging on a corner, "Anyway... Elizabeth! Where be this door leadin te by the way?"

~~~PORTAL LEADS TO FOCUSING CHAMBER 2 KATARN. HOWEVER, ONLY NEOPHYTE PERSONNEL ARE SUPPOSEDLY ALLOWED INTO THE CHAMBER: IT IS INADVISABLE FOR OTHER HUMANOIDS THAN NEOPHYTE PERSONNEL TO ENTER THE PREMISES~~~

The other kids moan in disappointment, "Awwwww... Does that mean we can't go in, and only Captain Katarn can?! NO FAIR!!!"


"Neophytes? Whuzzat, Captain Katarn?"


"I... I be not sure as well, lad... But whatever it is...


"Is there be no chance these laddies and lassies can come inside te have some fun?"

~~~NEGATIVE, KATARN. OTHER HUMANOIDS MAY ENTER PREMISES, BUT HIGHLY-CLASSIFIED AREAS IN THIS CHAMBER WILL REMAIN IN LOCKDOWN UNTIL NON-NEOPHYTE PERSONNEL LEAVE THE AREA~~~

"Ye hear that, kiddies? Ye can go in with me after all, HAHAHA!"


"YAAAY!!! You're the BEST, Captain Katarn!" The kids applaud cheerfully.


"Alright then... Elizabeth! Open the door..."

~~~AFFIRMATIVE KATARN. DEACTIVATING LOCKS TO FOCUSING CHAMBER 2~~~

The first thing that happened was the symbols slowly glowing with a purple light; after which the light was absorbed into hidden lines connected towards the door, the aura disappearing into the other side; the middle parted open slightly, allowing a rush of still air to blow past the group; with an agonizingly-grinding sound the doors parted open and revealed a very dark room.


The old veteran and the 3 kids went in, and were surprised at how strange the room was: it was a pyramid-shaped room with 4 walls, 2 doors of equal strangeness to the entrance on each wall except the one that harbored the way they came; fixed to the corners of the room and on the ceiling point were dimly-glowing crystals of different colors: starting from the back-left corner going clockwise there were blue, green, yellow and red crystals, while the apogee on the top was a purple one; the walls were ebony-black, with dim purple lines running across them like strange angular graffiti, all eventually connecting towards the purple crystal. The floor was equally lined with the dim lines as the walls, but these were all shaped in spiral-rectangular formations, unlike the pure randomness of the walls.


The kids were shivering at the very eeriness of the room. It didn't have any strange insignia on it, but the described details of the room alone made them think it was some sort of ritual chamber of sorts, "What do you think this place does, Captain Katarn?"


[color=#FF6666]"I wonder what that purple light on the ceiling is for? Those crystals look so cool I wanna touch 'em!"


... What be this place...? What be the use o' these crystals...? And where might these other doors lead te...? This be not feelin right, no matter how I be placin it... He looked around the room and went to the very center of the place.


"Oooohhhh... I wanna touch the green one!" When the excited boy was just a meter away from the green crystal several things happened in seconds: the purple lines immediately flashed and they seemed to rush back to the purple crystal, leaving the room almost totally black; then the room was replaced with green lights that quickly ran across and once again filled the room with lines, only this time these lines were green; when the lines had all but filled the room as the former the old veteran observed that the green lines, unlike the purple, were organized in smooth, circular patterns, while the floor ran with organized circular-spiral formations... And suddenly, from out of nowhere, the veteran felt a slight twinge of sadness and despair.


"WOOOOOOOW!!!" The kids were amazed at the lightshow they've just witnessed, "Hey, Jess! Touch the yellow one over there! That's your color anyway, you chicken!"


When the chubby boy approached the yellow crystal basically the same thing happened: but the yellow sported chaotic, diagonal lines on the walls, while the floor was filled with zigzag lines running well across. This one made the veteran's senses slightly sharper.


It was the girl's turn to approach a color, and she chose the red one: the red lines that followed filled the room with totally-parallel lines, the floor being dominated with crossroads and intersections. The red light was giving off a sense confidence, of new hope, and of courage from within.


Katarn soon observed that he was being affected by these colors by some form of unconscious power, yet the changes were too subtle and indirect to notice at first glance. After some thinking he said, "Hmmm... I'll try the blue on then, lads, HAHAHA!"


"Yeah! Let's see what Captain Katarn shows up!"


When Katarn walked towards the blue crystal and touched it with his right, human hand, the room was basked in blue, dim lines that filled the walls with snail-like patterns, while the floor only had one enormous spiral that ran towards the center of the room. The warm glow of the blue light gave respite to the veteran's spirit, as if he suddenly found himself in a luxury spa in a 5-star hotel... He felt... peace...


"Say, Captain Katarn! I have an idea!" The girl raised her hand up in a question, "Why don't we press all the crystals at the same time? It might make a combination of all the colors, making something like an awesome rainbow or something!"


"... Smart lassy... I like yer thinkin, HAHAHA!!!" His eyebrows raised in excitement, and his grin grew wider.


"Okay... On the count o' three, we all press our crystals an' see what happens, eh? One... two..."


When three was said all of them touched the crystals they were close to... For a few moments nothing seemed to happen, "I think we broke the darn---"


Suddenly, as the girl predicted, the entire room flashed with the four different lines, filling it with a dazzling array of colors and leaving the kids in awe. But just as how fast it went all the lines quickly ran towards the purple crystal, disappearing altogether... Yet the lines came back, only this time they were purple, and after a few seconds of waiting found themselves with the exact purple formations when they first entered the room.


The old veteran tried to see if this color was making any sort of change... For a moment he didn't find anything; but then he found it... He found it easier to focus, to concentrate, as if he was just about ready to stare at something for the next hour without becoming tired.


"Well, those were some awesome lightshows, Captain Katarn, but..."


"Looks like we need to get back to our parents now!"


"Thanks for letting us in, Captain Katarn! Bye!" The kids all left the room one by one, eventually leaving the old veteran to himself as he pondered still at what the room was exactly for...


... and how it was able to do all those things...

"... Thank you, Captain... Thank you for returning my dear Gerry to me..." An elderly woman hugs her grandson tightly as she looks at the veteran's face.


[color=#99FFFF]"No need te thank me, Mrs. Porsch. It be an honor te have taken yer son back te yer hands safe an' sound... Heh, ye don't even have te pay me fer the rescue, HAHAAAH!!!" The old man laughs joyfully at the two.


"We are in your debt, Captain," The young man looks back at the veteran with a thankful smile, "I've made Granny worry too much about myself...


"... I'm sorry, Granny... I won't leave your side again" Katarn waves goodbye as the two leave the landing platform and back to their home.


It was generally the same sight all around the platform: Katarn was on his 4th leg of the journey, already have been to Planet Los Angeles, Planet Erie, Planet Denver, taking all of the refugees he was ferrying back to their families and friends awaiting them on these planets; now the Orocin was moored on Planet Manhattan, and he was ferrying the last of the refugees into an Armored Transport onto Landing Platform 6, where the relatives and friends of these people were awaiting their return on the platform's surface.


All around the site there were various dramatic reunions taking place: fathers who were once thought dead have come back to greet their wives and children; couples who lost everything in the war, and would seem to have shamed their elderly parents, but instead were welcomed back with open arms and more often than not in jubilant tears; even friends who haven't seen each other in years were reunited upon arrival, and quickly went off to enjoy themselves in the nearest bar and drown out their sorrows onto the tables.


"... Captain Katarn... I..." A man approaches the old veteran shyly, his head nodding down in apparent shame, "I... don't feel I can meet my family again..."


"Oh?... But why not, lad?"


"... I came to Bretonia to fund for my family back here on Manhattan... I heard the mining business there offered good pay. My wife, Malia, even offered to pay for the mining ship with her life savings. I once worked on the Tau Ice Fields, combing the asteriods and worked alongside the IMG.


"The pay there was good, but I was planning to save up enough cash to buy a bakery near our apartment so I won't need to work far from my family anymore... It was also our dream to run a bakery together...


"But... The war happened... I lost my ship in the crossfire, my ship that Malia had saved up her entire life for... The money that I sent her beforehand wasn't even enough to cover for the expenses of the bakery...


"I knew then and there... that I failed my family... They must be living in the streets by now because I didn't send in the cash to pay for their apartment... Malia must be furious of me for losing the ship, and not living up to my dreams...


"I'm a failure, Captain... and that's why I---"


"Robert!" A woman's voice is heard amongst the foray of people; it was Malia, holding two kids with both her hands.


The man raised his head in disbelief, "... Malia?"


"Why haven't you come back, Robert? Why didn't you call me? Why did you suddenly leave us all hanging here at Manhattan?" She said in a furious scowl at the man.


"... I... I'm sorry, Malia... I didn't have any cash left when the Raiden was destroyed... I got caught in the Wars going on in Bretonia.. I'm sorry I couldn't send the cash you guys needed... I---"


"I was so worried about you, Robert! You didn't tell me anything. It's as if you just disappeared from us, Robert, and that made the kids worry about you..." She hugged the man tightly, tears streaming down her face as she sobbed on the man's shoulder, "... The kids were worried about you... I was worried about you... Don't you ever leave us again, you fool... don't... ever do that again... SNIFF..."


"... You... aren't worried about the money, Malia?"


"... The money...? I didn't need it anymore, Robert... A local investor was willing to donate us some cash to buy the bakeshop for us... I got it running, and I was successful in getting the money in a month.


"We've got the bakery, Robert... You don't have to leave Manhattan no more... The kids were worried about you... They need their father, Robert... That's all we needed..."


"... I... I can't believe it... We... we have the bakery, Malia?" He couldn't control his emotions anymore and hugged his family back with tears in his eyes as well, "... I'm sorry once again for losing the Raiden, Malia... You used your own money for that ship---"


"It doesn't matter anymore, Robert... You don't need to worry about that anymore... all that matters is that you're here now... You're here for the kids... you're here for the family... They need their father, Robert... I need you."


The man wiped his tears away and continued, "... Okay, Malia... Let's go home..." He turned his head at Katarn and gave a thankful smile at him, "Thank you, Captain... For bringing me home to my beloved family safe and sound... You'll always be welcomed in our bakery. Come visit us sometime when you have the chance." The four of them soon left the platform, now reunited once again.


The Junker, who was now clean and well-kept, saw the happy gatherings around him going on in the platform, and a small tear fell down his eye as he continued watching the happy endings unfold before him, "... I wish there were people that would greet me back home... I wish I even had a home to begin with..."


Suddenly he felt a tug on his pants, and when he looked down he saw the little girl he tried to help back on Holman, "... Oh... It's you, girl... What do you want?"


Almost immediately she offered a small box to the Junker: it was a musical box, very plain and was contained in a thin, wooden container that was attached with a silver winder. The moment he accepted the gift and slowly took it from her hand the girl turned back to her family and moved on, but not without waving goodbye with a smile on her face at the Junker.


"Heh... Seems like ye made a friend, Charles, HAHAHAH!!!" The veteran approached the surprised Junker with his usual, joyful grin.


Several minutes passed until all of the refugees had been finally reunited and had long since left the landing platform, leaving Katarn and Charles to themselves, "... Let's be off te Curacao then, lad! I be gettin excited te see just what ye be plannin te do with ME money, HAHAHAHAHAAAAH!!!" Katarn slapped a hand at the Junker's back before heading back to the Armored Transport.


The Junker just stood there for a moment, overlooking the yellow sunset shining on the landing platform, his hand still clutching the wooden musical box he received. Soon he gave a slight smile to himself as a tear fell down his eye.


"... Thank you... for accepting me..."

~~~KATARN. SCANS INDICATE A SALVAGER VESSEL AND OTHER JUNKER STRIKECRAFT ARE WITHIN THE VICINITY, NORTH-NORTH-EAST IN DIRECTION TO CURRENT VELOCITY. DETAILED SCANS INACCURATE BY 45.67%, BUT DESIGNATE SALVAGER TO BE DISABLED AND IN A DRIFT~~~

[color=#99FFFF]"...eh? A downed salvager? Hmmm..."


"Aye then... Let's see what the fuss is about, eh? Could be somethin big, HAHAHAHAH! Elizabeth! Change course te the salvager."

~~~AFFIRMATIVE, KATARN. CHANGING COURSE TOWARDS INDEPENDENT GOLD FIELD~~~

By this time, the Orocin was finally making its way to rendezvous with Amanda Breeches, who was supposedly waiting at Battleship Hood, to deliver her brother Charles Breeches, until the scanners picked up a small fleet of Junker ships just a bit deeper into the Independent Gold Fields of Dublin. Slowly, the maneuvering thrusters pushed the narrow frame of the ancient prison liner towards the asteroid field, and soon it was cruising along towards the intercepted source.


After several minutes, the Orocin could make out a heavily-scarred Salvager drifting along the large space-rocks, and a couple of Junker Collecters stationed just above the former's orbit




The Orocin's intercom soon came to life, "Eh? Who's there?!"


"I be seein them, Elizabeth! ... No need te be alarmed, HAHAH! ...What be goin on here, eh?"


Charles Breeches at the time was right beside the veteran on the Orocin Bridge, and as the veteran spoke he notices a peculiar ship clamped on one of the salvager's docking claws. Somehow finding it familiar he said, "...Wait... isn't that...?"


A second transmission meets the intercoms of the Bridge, but it sounds more like the background noise of the ship in question, " *static* May- *static* "


"Eh? What be that...?"

~~~SCANS INDICATE A DISTRESS SIGNAL WAS RECENTLY INTERCEPTED FROM THE SALVAGER BY THE SECOND SHIP AND HAS BEEN INTERCEPTED BY VESSEL COMMS, KATARN~~~

The transmission once again repeats, only this time with a bit less clarity, " -dis *static* ed. Comms. *cuts* "


As Charles looks closer at the clamped ship his eyes widened in disbelief, "... HEY! That IS Amanda's ship! I'd recognize that Collecter anywhere!"


The old veteran's eyebrow raises a bit, "...Really, lad?"


"Yeah... What did you say Amanda was doing here in Dublin?"


"Hmmm... She be investigating a stranded salvager somewhere... just like this one, in fact!


"...Elizabeth! This be the salvager I think be the stranded one?"

~~~SCANNING... SCANS INDICATE 69.56% ACCURACY TO SPECULATED DATABASE ON AMANDA'S DESCRIPTIONS OF DOWNED SALVAGER~~~

"Ms. Breeches? Can you hear me?" Apparently, the person who first hailed the Orocin was talking to his own ship intercom, but was only replied with a blast of static from it, "Damn, secondhand Liberty Junk..."


"What be goin on here, lads? Why Ms. Breeches' ship be docked on the salvager? Where is she, anyway?"


The transmission repeats again, yet this one came out with better clarity of a Junker woman, "Did... Can you hear me? *noise* "


Now Charles began to sound worried, "... I... I know that--- AMANDA! Where are you?!" He presses on the intercom as he spoke.


"She's on-board the vessel... She was going to try an' jumpstart an engine, but we haven't heard from h--- Ms. Breeches! Are you alright?!"

~~~ALERT: VESSEL SCANS INDICATE SALVAGER DESIGNATED AS THE METALLURGIST IS AT 20% GENERAL INTEGRITY WITH NOTABLE POWER FLUCTUATIONS. REACTOR CORE MELTDOWN IMMINENT~~~

On the other side of the second transmission adjustments are heard on his intercom before he finally says something, "There... that should be better...


"Asterix is right. Amanda boarded the salvager here, hoping to save the ship. Doesn't look to be very successful, though..."


To everyone's surprise, Charles laughs devilishly at the man's response, "Hah... The ship must be ready to explode! HAH! Serves that b**** right."


The person on the first transmission responds as if he was taken aback by the Junker man's reply, "How DARE you speak that way of a lady, sieur!" He says with a slight Gallic accent.


The old veteran's face turned a bit furious, "HEY! I be needin her info, lad! I be NEEDIN her ALIVE, see!"


All of a sudden, a third transmission enters the intercoms of the Bridge, and the voice of an eccentric elderly man is heard, " *static* Hallo there? *static* Damn this *static* thing!"


"No Junker likes me around, you hear?! NO ONE! Why should I give HER of all people a damn?!"


" *static* Do you read me? *static* "


Then a fourth transmission comes in, this time the sounds of a Molly pilot is heard, "What's happenin here?"


"Not on my watch she be dyin! ...Elizabeth! Initiate Dockin Procedures on The_Metallurgist!"

~~~AFFIRMATIVE KATARN. INITIATING MOORING ON SALVAGER~~~

As the Orocin inched its way towards the Salvager the Junker man beside the old veteran couldn't believe what he just heard, "WHAT THE FRAK ARE YOU DOING?!"


"Gettin what I be comin here fer the whole time, lad!" The old veteran responds in evident scowl.


The third transmission responds in a sarcastic, yet worried tone, " *static* Oh no... Not more pirates after our gold..."


The first transmission buzzes with a slapping noise, of which a casual observer would assume it was a facepalm, "Ohhhh boy... He had to go and say that..."


"Nay! I be an ally, lads!"


The Molly pilot's voice shudders in evident saddness, "Sniff sniff..."


" *static* If you're really an ally *static* Get us some Hull Panels, will you?!"


"Bloody--- it'd take too long! The nearest source of Panels is bleeding Leeds!"


"Aye, then! Fortunately, I be havin the hull panels ye need right here in me ship, HAHAH!" Eventually, the salvager's clamps hold on the mooring ports of the Orocin.


"Molly... This is an important salvage operation. Keep clear, please!"


"Just a watchin, pally." His ship eventually leaves without another moment's notice, leaving the group to their circumstances.


" *static* Uh-oh *static* There goes the ammunition!" The inside workings of the ship goes off in lots of popping explosions around, creating more holes on the already-leaking salvager.


As Katarn steps through the mooring bay doors he manages to dodge the oncoming bolts that almost hit the veteran where it not for his reflexes saving him just in time, "HAAHAHAH! Just like a firefight!"


Before proceeding any further, the veteran grabs the ear of the Junker man and drags him along his side, "HEY! What the--- Owowowowooow!"


"Yer comin with me, whether ye like it or not! Amanda needs ye, and I need her info, and I be not leavin till everybody be happy, got it?!"


The veteran's datapad buzzes with a transmission from the salvager intercoms, " *static* Life Support is fine, apart from the gaping hole letting the air *static* out. *static* If *static* we plug the hole we may be fine."


As they proceed into the ship, the Orocin robot crews prepare the hull panels onto Gravitonic Platforms for transport before following suit. Katarn, aware of the lack of adequate breathing air, equips himself and Charles Life Support Masks to help supplement proper breathing.


" *static* Start the systems, you fools!"


" *static* Aye, sir *static* "


Katarn expected the inside to be heavily wrecked, but when it comes to a Junker ship slapped on with different components coming from all across the galaxy, pieced together sometimes sloppily into one package, then brought into a heavy firefight you can never really know what to expect: here, there were debris, scrap and junk scattered everywhere they walked on that there were occasions the veteran almost tripped outright; the walls were smoking with exposed and sometimes burning wires and cables, while the ceiling fared not better than the aforementioned, its lights flickering dimly around the ship's hallways; blaster marks and explosion holes littered the place like a strainer, and whole rooms were sometimes caved-in with scrap.


In the maze of it all, Charles was more or less familiar with salvager layouts, and so he guided the old veteran to the bridge of the vessel after several minutes of dodging the environment hazards. The bridge was in no better condition than the rest of the ship, "Hello! What be happenin here?"


"It's WORKING, HAHAH!" Slowly, the lights brightened up and the bridge consoles went back online.


"Who be the leader in charge here?"


A tall man amongst them steps forward towards the old veteran, an decently-elderly man wearing the usual Junker Attire, but it clearly shows numerous chemical burns from many past experiments, "I'm Isaac, the captain of this ship."


"Nice te meet ye, Captain Isaac! HAHAHA!"


After formally meeting with a handshake, the captain continued on ranting half to himself, "Darn pirates blasted our reactor when we wouldn't hand over the gold..."


Katarn grins with a sly smile, "HAH! That be too bad...


"Fortunately, Elizabeth be comin here shortly with the panels an' the Orocin repair crews te patch up yer hole, HAHAH! They be also helpin along with the repairs, see!"


"Good, good... The Reactor may prove 'problematic' though..." The captain rubs his hands nervously.


"...Eh? And why that be so?"


"We were hit with some strange explosives. ...EMP of somesort. ...May have fried the electronics keeping her stable."


The Junker captain doesn't lie: most of the bridge consoles seems to have taken quite an energy surge, "Aye... the circuitry aboard be fried, all right.


"...Oh yes... By the way, where be Amanda? I be told by her tha---"


All of a sudden an angry Junker woman bursts through the door of the bridge with a wrench on her hand and a screwdriver on the other, with soot and ash covering her face and clothes, "What the FRAK is going on here?! This place is quickly going to high heaven alright, and I---"


"...Amanda...?" Charles walks a bit towards the woman before stopping with his eyes in disbelief.


"...Charles?" She herself tries to rubs her own as if to see if her sight wasn't playing tricks on her, "What are YOU doing here?!"


"I was about to ask you that!"


Then she eyes the old veteran and his grin, and her voice instantly becomes dry, "Ah... Katarn Dragonbourne... Fancy seeing you here."


"Ye sound totally unimpressed, lassy, HAHAHAH!"


"SIGH... Might as well make both of you useful around here... Help me get these stuff aboard, will you?" She motions for the two to a crate somewhere to her right.


"And WHY would I even considering helping YOU, HUH?!" His arms fold into themselves, and his eyes narrow down darkly in suspicion of her.


"DAMMIT! Who tried to fix the razor?! Shut it down!" A crewmember touches a console nearby until something somewhere powers down, "... Ah. That's better. ...The battle razor was meant to fight off pirates.


...and it apparently didn't help too much..." A sheepish smile is seen on Isaac's face.


One of the intercom consoles of the salvager's bridge light up, and the voice of one of the Junkers still in space is heard, "Yeah... and a great job it did, heheh..."


The old veteran pictures the large hole he passed by on the way to the bridge, "HAHAHAHAH! I be seein that, HAHAAAH!"


"I said STOP FIXING THINGS!" Another one of the captain's crewmembers who was innocently trying to repair a faulty fusebox accidentally caused a large pop in electricity, "Dammit, the systems are going awol!"


Amanda soon motions over to a console and presses the intercom button, "Hey! You two fiddlesticks, get in here!"


"Eh? What, me?" The reply came back almost immediately.


"Uh-oh... I suggest everyone do nothing because we are doomed..." His eyes become a bit more nervous, and sweat starts to trickle down his forehead as he looked around him.


Not minding what Isaac said, Amanda continued on, "YEAH! Asterix, Barbados! Don't just sit there like useless nebula gas farts! Get in here!"


As Isaac walks over to a nearby panel, he notices the data streaming in it, "...The power is fluctuating, all of a sudden..."


Within moments one of the Junker ships moors over one of the claw clamps and the pilot eventually enters the bridge: the jet-black hair of the Junker in his late 20's was slicked back, and he had a thin mustache just below his nose; his clothes looked faded at first glance, but if an observer were to take the time to inspect it they would actually be of high quality and well-maintained; not many would notice unless they tried to, but he had a slight Gallian accent in his voice, "What ye need?"


The Junkess slaps herself with a loud facepalm before looking at the man with devoid, dry eyes, "WHAT DOES IT LOOK LIKE, ASTERIX?! This place has more holes in it than Stuttgart Cheese. IF your head's still not screwed on tight, this place---"


"Oh, we need a guide to accepting the fact that the reactor's going TO BLOW UP! Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear..." Despite the graveness of the situation he says the statement with cheerfulness.


Everyone else's eyes widen in shock, "WHAAAAAT?!"


"Ugh... I can't dock in the salvager... no empty ports..."


"BLOW UP?! RUN AWAAAY!!!" Asterix, before anyone could process what had just transpired, sprinted back to his ship and cruised off as fast as his Collecter could away from the broken Salvager.


"What the--- ASTERIX, YOU COWARD!" She flings an angry fist into the air before stomping the ground in rage, "GYAARGH! Good help is friggin hard to find these days..."


"Ah... that was convenient..." The surprised Junker finds the now-empty port clamps and docks into the salvager. After a while he joins the group in the bridge: he was wearing a dusty, desert-yellow Mechanic's Jumper armed with lots of tools and what-nots in the pockets; he was short for his size, and his belly was noticeably rotund, while his limbs and cheeks were only slightly chubby; his eyes showed a keen eye for quality, but at this time they seemed to shine with an air of nervousness and paranoia; a Libertonian accent could be distinguished as he spoke, "Heh... I've never been on one of these..."


"Ah... Good that you're here, Kiln. We'll need all the help we can get..."


"Elizabeth! What be the situation?!" Katarn takes out his datapad and tapped a few commands.

~~~SCANS INDICATE THERE IS MASSIVE OVERLOAD OF POWER FROM RAZOR MOUNT AND OF SEVERAL OTHER SYSTEMS OFFLINE. REACTOR IS GENERATING MASSIVE AMOUNTS OF ELECTRICITY EXCEEDING NEEDED LEVELS. ADVISE POWER LEAK TO STABILIZE ENERGY LEVELS, KATARN~~~

"The power is going to fry all available systems unless it can be rerouted to something.


...But most of everything that can save us doesn't work anymore! ...We CAN fire the razor, but that will eventually overheat and then we won't be talking anymore."


"DAMN! DAMN DAMN DAAAAAMN!!!" She screams at the top of her lungs as if to curse the gods in rage.


"Is there be another solution, Captain Isaac?"


The Junker captain's head flinches up as if he just remembered something, "ENGINES! The power is too much for the ship, but the engines can take that kind of punishment, perhaps."


"Engines?"


"...But they are broken---"


"Then we'll FIX the frakking things! ...Isaac! Charles! Kiln! With me, NOW!" She points the three to follow her.


"WHAT?! But why?! AND, more importantly, who put YOU in charge as the leader? I'll wait until someone more suited to the task at hand---"


"You wanna wait till you die instead, FRAKKER?! Because if you keep going on like this I won't even need a gun to kill you!"


Charles scratches his head in self-doubt, "Ehm... no... I guess not."


"We have a plan to get those engines online?"


"Hmmm... Let's see...


"...Ah! There's a broken thrust vector. If we turn the engines on now, we'll melt the ship!"


"Then how do we do this, smarty-pants?!"


"Replace the missing panels and we may be able to fire the engines safely!" He swings a finger up in the air in excitement.


Kiln raises his eyebrow oddly at the man, "All we need are panels?"


"YOU DAB, Kiln?! Panels can be used for EVERYTHING when given to a Junker."


He looks around a bit until he responds back, "Can we pull some off from my Freighter? They might be enough to patch it up."


"The panels I be bringin aboard be enough fer the job, I think!"


"YOU'VE GOT PANELS?!" Kiln flinches his head back in shock.


"Faulty ones... They won't keep us in one piece for too long"


"Well, get em' on here! Faulty or no, we can do SOMETHING with them, can't we? Better than getting nowhere, and most certainly better than blowing up from your useless razor.


"...Katarn! You on those panels?"


"Faulty, eh? I be admittin they be old, but I could be proven wrong, HAHAH! ...Elizabeth! Bring in the panels!" In mere moments the robots come into the bridge bringing in the platforms carrying the rusty hull panels.


"HAHA! A positive turn of events! In the load of scrap, we have all that we need!


"...But if we can fix em' and redirect power we may be able to get the other systems online to lessen the load on the engines."


"Perfect, perfect now... You were going to show me to engineering?" He tries to force a helpful grin on his face.


"Down the hall, on the left is a small service elevator. That'll---"


Without a second thought Kiln ran in the directions he was given with, and in mere moments his voice is heard in the intercoms, "Bring the panels, hurry!"


"Roger that. Charles! Katarn! Isaac!"


All three of them answer in unison before following Amanda towards the Engineering Bay, "AYE!"

As Kiln and the others entered the room of the Engineering bay their eyes shot up in discouraging disbelief: the whole place was more scrap than room, the interiors filled with many flash fire marks and exposed and sizzling wires that snaked violently around; most of the consoles, if not blown up from the initial power surge, were either sparking with loose connections, or were showing white-noise static on their displays; the floor was littered with parts, components and strewn-up and twisted scrap metal like foot hazards and obstacles; In a nutshell, the place was a total disaster area.


Kiln looked around the place in dismay and after inspecting the downtrodden room finally blurted out, "Really? REALLY?!"


As everyone else still scratched their heads Isaac walked towards a console and tries to makes heads and tails of the data, [color=#33FF33]"Hmmm... Another problem has arisen."


"YOU NAY-SAYER! WHAT NOW?!"


"We won't be able to guide the ship away from the asteroids without the maneuvering thrusters... and besides that, the shields are down...


"...I'll try to fix the shields, then." Isaac walks over to the other side of the room and inspects the Shielding Array Main Console.


*dives into the large mess, looking for anything needing to be replaced* "Okay, your problem. I'm tied up with the engine!" *mumbles*


"Forget the asteroids, you FRAK! The reactor's gonna blow up if we don't find a way to divert all that extra power somewhere!" Amanda goes to a group of still-working consoles trying to see anything notable software-wise.


He pops his head out of the metaphorical mountain of scrap and calls out, "You got an arc we... Nevermind. Found it." He grabs the flimsy tool and starts to weld various holes he finds.


And all of a sudden, a large BOOM erupts from a corner of the room, "Oh dear, Ryan! I told you not to touch the capacitator! Now you're all crispy!" The elderly man looks at his now-charred-black crewmember lying on the floor.


"I'll handle the preparation of the panels for sizing up!" *grabs a fusion cutter to size up the panels for the various repair jobs needed*


"So, who wants to warn me when we're about to blow up?" *laughs wryly*


Aye, I'll do it, HAHAAAH! *runs to a nearby active console to inspect the status of the reactor*


"I think we'll be able to get these online. Just give me a little bit of time... You got anymore of those robots, Katarn?"


"Yep! Elizabeth! Send in the crew, eh?" A team of robots armed with many mechanical tools and limbs step beside Kiln.


"Good! I need another pair of hands!" Eventually, Kiln's whole side of the room was being buffeted with welding and drilling sparks and sounds, a scene that looks not much different from a mining operation, "I... It's not my best work... but I think that'll hold. You weren't kidding, these are some old panels!" He inspected his hurried repair job with a bit of satisfaction. The old veteran responds with laughter.


*types several commands on her console* Okay... The systems on the shields are coming online! I'm gonna adjust the power to them!


"Shields are powering up slowly!"


"C'mon, you DAMN---!" She slams the face of the terminal with a rather large fist, which does the trick and the console starts to hum loudly.


"We've got decent protection! The shields are now at 60% integrity! *turns to some people standing around* HEY, you SLACKERS! Do something, will you?!


"...Aha. My crew has done something useful for a change! They've got the weapons online. I can direct a little more power away, giving us a few more minutes of time."


Kiln had just finished welding a large component onto a junction box on his side when his head popped up again, "Okay! The Power Coil has been fixed... Now where's that---"


"Uh-oh... *eyes his console* We've got only 10 minutes left till the reactors blow, laddies!"


"WHAT?! FRAK THIS PIECE OF JUNK!!!" *kicks a wall beside her in rage*


Another boom rings out, but this one sounds like it came from the far side of the ship. Isaac thinks for a moment before he walks to a nearby fuse box and opens it to reveal a smoking wreck, "...Oops... blew a fuse on the razor... Now power from that mount's coming back! And with that, I won't be able to fire off the thing and use up some energy!"


"GORRAMIT!"


"Are those engines ready yet? If one of the engines is operational, fire it and it'll give us some time!"


"They'll be up shortly..." *looks at the robots continuing the work* "... Well, the robots should be done by now. You tried them?"


The Junker captain approaches another terminal and starts typing commands here and there for a short while, but after several seconds pass he begins to grow impatient and smacks the table with both hands, "ARGH! It won't work! This thing must be busted, like everything around---"


"LADS! I be seein the problem!" The old veteran points a finger at a small opening that was surrounded with lots of loose wirings: it was the Power Rerouter Mainframe Room, and from its only entrance came out a plume of black smoke; evidence that the contents in it were fried and burning.


Charles eyes shoot wide open in dismay, "WHAAT?!"


"Without those rerouter couplings online we won't have even the ability to reroute power to ANYTHING, let alone engines!"


"Oh... that will be a problem... Hmmm... I wonder if the Razor fuse blowing up had---"


"Katarn! Go and try to fix them, will you?"


A sheepish smile comes out of the veteran's face as he tries to compare the tiny opening against his towering body, "Oh, lad... I wish I could, but that room be too small fer me te fit in!"


Suddenly a spark is heard from one of his assistant robots, "What the--- NO!" He quickly moves to disable the robot before it could progress to a full explosion, "Ahh... nevermind... I'll do it myself... Worthless mechs... *mumbles as he crawls back into the offending gap still untreated by the robot*


"Ooooh! Look! The countermeasures still work with some backup power in them! Anyone for a fireworks display before the grand finale?"


"Not... funny... Isaac..." Amanda rolls her eyes with hateful intent.


"Isaac! Who be able te fix the rerouters?"


"Ryan, but he's crispy now... What luck!"


The whole group descends into a momentary silence trying to see who could do the job...


... Until Charles stepped forward and said in a grim tone, "... I'll go... I'm the smallest here in the group, so I can fix the rerouters."


"Charles..."


"Heh... I'm gonna die anyway after this... Katarn! Hand me an arc welder!" He takes the tool and squeezes his way through the small opening head-first.


"Amanda! Prepare the power before Charles be done, eh?"


"... Right! I'm on it." She hurriedly goes back to the consoles and does as was asked.


"Kiln! How are the engines goin?"


"Make sure those vectors are in place so we don't melt!"


"Yes... Melting bad..." He rolls his eyes before going back to welding.


Captain Isaac... Ye know the layout o' the ship... Ye should prepare the systems reroute fer the process fer when Charles be done, eh?


Okey Dokey! C'mon boys, we've got a ship to prepare! *heads over back to the bridge with his crewmembers*


Soon, a nearby comms terminal comes alive, and Charle's voice is heard from it: burning and crackling and popping engulf the transmission in background noise apart from the static, (in an intercom) " *static* ACK! This is *static* tight! But I've found the motherboard *static* I'm gonna piece together this mess of wirings back into the unit now! *welding is heard in the intercom* "


"... I think we're good here. I think... *sighs* I'm a mechanic, not an electric magician." He steps out of the hole he was repairing and heaves to himself a breath of relief.


(in an intercom) " *static* We're here in the bridge! Everthing is ready. Make sure it's safe to go ahead with this."


"Okay! I've adjusted the power levels to be calibrated as balanced as possible, and is ready to be rerouted!


"Charles, it's your leg, now!"


Katarn looks at his terminal and he vainly tries to rub his eyes in disbelief, "ACK! 1 minute till the reactor be loosin it! Hurry, laddy!" A couple of terminals suddenly blow up from the sheer amounts of electricity flowing through them.


(in an intercom) " *static* Anyone for pancakes? Specific parts here are getting ever so hot with this extra electricity running through the wirings!" The ship interiors were now starting to increase in surface temperature from the hot wirings, baking the air very uncomfortably fast.


All of a sudden, the Junkess couldn't control her anxiety any longer, and at the top of her voice screamed, "HURRY UP, CHARLES!!!"


The reply was godsend to everyone in the salvager, (in an intercom) " *static* ... DONE! NOW, Isaac! Fire the engines!"


Amanda's skin turns pale and her body flinches upon hearing those words, "No Isaac, wait! The rerouters experience the most---"


(in an intercom) " *static* FIRING THE ENGINES!!! FIRE THEM NOW, YOU SLACKERS!!!"


It was as if time had stopped: before the reactor could've reached critical levels the salvager suddenly thrusted out, and with all that overflow of electricity coming together on the engines they pushed the ship at a breakneck speed in impulse speed alone. The power of the sudden jolt was so great the artificial gravity generators weren't enough: practically anyone who wasn't braced onto something slammed to the ground with a heavy and painful thud.


And in the same moment that the ship fired its engines the Power Rerouter Room glowed outwards with white-hot flames, the massive surge of electricity going through the motherboard was so much it made the air ignite and combust spontaneously; a blood-curldling scream is almost immediately heard from the intercom,(in an intercom) "GGYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA *heavy static* "


And with herself paralyzed from shock at what quickly happened, all Amanda could do was watch in horror, "CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRLLEESS!!!!"


"LADDY!" The old veteran immediately dashes towards the flaming opening, and after grabbing the nearby feet of the Junker left inside he tugs Charles with all his might out of the room. The Junker's whole upper body was charred black and his chest-clothing was left almost completely disintegrated, while flames still licked his pants and sleeves violently, "...Ack! Get a fire extinguisher, Kiln!"


Kiln sprints towards the burning body with a chemical-based extinguisher he found nearby and sprays the entire body hurriedly. It would take a quarter of a minute before all of the flames were put out.


"CHAARLES!!! *goes to the side of the body* ... Charles! CHARLES!!! WAKE UP, FOOL!!! Wake up... you fool... Why... why didn't you..." Tears slowly drip down from her eyes as the atmosphere slowly turned from a tense one to a solemn and sad background...


"... Is he... dead...?"


Kiln makes a closer inspection of the body... Nothing was moving... " *sighs* I... think so..." His face riles up in disgust at the smoking body.


The silence was interrupted when the intercoms came alive once again, (in an intercom) " *static* Okay. That burnt up enough energy to keep us from exploding for several more minutes. Now to fix the reactor fluctuations..."


Amanda slams her fist angrily on the ground before her chest started to shudder from her sobs, "... SNIFF... Charles... It's been... so long since... SNIFF... we met... SNIFF... We haven't even... SNIFF... gotten a chance... to... SNIFF... talk... SNIFF...


"... Why... Why did it have to end this way...?"


Her arm shakily reached for Charles' charred left hand; but when her fingers finally touched his skin Charles came back to life and squirmed in serious pain, "AAAAAAAAAAAGHRRRGH!!! IT BUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRNNNS!!!" He coughed a few breaths and continued squirming as he left the whole group shocked beyond recognition.


"CHARLES!!! You're alive?!"


"Urp! Oh, that's too much!" Kiln holds his mouth and stomach and hurriedly runs out of the room.


(in an intercom) "Ah! The fuel! Drain it, and the reactor can't make anymore electricity to destroy us!"


"Then what ye be waitin fer, Captain?!" Katarn's grin quickly comes back in response, "PUNCH IT, HAHAHAAAAAH!!!


How do you young lads say it? BRING THE NOISE? The Cruise engines soon flare up quickly, and the ship further jolts forward even so far as to escape the field entirely...










By this time, the salvager's reactor core was starting to power itself down from being starved of fuel, and many of its systems were now shutting down from the lack of electricity, "Ah, I hope you can tow us back to a station... otherwise, the lack of fuel will cause the life support to shut down, again."


"Aye... This be lookin fine enough... Elizabeth! Tractor the Salvager te the nearest orbital te resupply an' recuperate, see!"


So... I'd love to get off of your death trap... *eyes his vomit in the corner* And back onto my ship... please?


"We'll be there in a jiffy, lad! HAHAHAH!"

~~~AFFIRMATIVE KATARN. INITIATING TRACTOR BEAM AND PLOTTING COURSE TO BATTLESHIP ESSEX. ETA: 3 MINUTES AND 35 SECONDS~~~

After bringing in Charles and to the Medical Bay of the Orocin on a gravitonic stretcher, Katarn dislodged the Prison Liner from the mooring claws and used his ship's tractor beams to guide the salvager safely to the stationed Battleship Essex.


Meanwhile, Kiln Barbados boarded his own ship, and, after dislodging his ship from the salvager as well, he engages the autopilot on the NavMap and proceeds to wash himself up happily from the grime he accumulated through the whole event...

At this time the Salvager and the Prison Liner had just finished mooring on the Bretonian Battleship stationed near the Dublin Sun. The salvager, now out of fuel, had its reactor drained of power, while it looked as if it went through a failed full-on frontal assault, with some of its blown-out parts and components still barely-clinging for dear life. Its crew now walked towards salvation on the other side of the Mooring Blast Door, patting themselves on the back for a job "well done".


Kiln had already engaged his ship to dock on the Essex, its red docking lights flashing brightly, and as the Collector approached the Battleship he made a very satisfied sigh of relief.


"HAHAAAH! That be a great adventure we be havin, eh lads? HAAAAHAHAHAHAH!!!"


Kiln's eyes widen in shock, [color=#FF0000]"Oh man... I'm just a scrapper. Remind me not to go adventuring with you again!" He laughs nervously to himself.


Katarn only laughs boisterously in return, "HAHAAAH! Too much fer ye, eh? HAHAHAHAHAAAHAHAH!!"


Katarn was beside the junkers Charles and Amanda Breeches in the Orocin's Medical Bay; the former was floating in a medical tank breathing through a gas-mask half-naked, the strong medicinal suspension liquid slowly treating his horrid burn marks. His chest area was scarred so deep from the flames that it would still need special skin-grafting to fully treat, but at least the liquid treating him for now would be able to stop the wound from getting worse.


"Ah... Almost safe. Now let me get off this ship until it is spaceworthy again!" Isaac laughs wryly as he steps out his ship and walks towards the Battleship Mooring Doors.


"I'll send in the reports to the Junker Congress, Isaac... You'll meet up with the rest of them when they get here, which will be a few days, since they're still preoccupied at the moment..." Amanda responds to Isaac's PDA in a formal tone.


"Will do. Thank you for your assistance."


"And NO THANKS to YOU for initiating the engines while Charles was still in the hell-hole! Frakker!" She scowls at the Junker captain's voice rudely, who smiles sheepishly to himself.


Charles suddenly jerks awake and looks slowly around him, "Oooooh... the burn.... it still hurts..." He gazes at his own burn marks, the upper body's skin now permanently scarred and wrinkled, possibly a reminder to just how close he was to doing the ultimate sacrifice.


Kiln's voice is heard from the Orocin's nearby intercom, "Oh yeah. How... How is Charles...? He gonna make it?"

~~~SCANS INDICATE CHARLES IS SUFFERING 3RD DEGREE BURNS ON CHEST, ARMS AND NECK AREAS. CHANCES OF SURVIVAL ARE 75%. PERMANENT SCARRING IS VERY LIKELY. ESTIMATED RECOVERY TIME TO BE 2 DAYS OF MEDICAL TANK SUSPENSION, AND 3 MONTHS OF HOSPITALIZATION~~~

"Oh, thank junk..." Amanda sighs to herself, "He's gonna live..."


"You... you're giving pity on me?" Charles looks surprised at her reaction, "I thought---"


"Oh, don't get me wrong! I did want to punish you for your stupidity, Charles... Getting caught in the Tau Wars needlessly... hahahah... what a fool" She tapped the glass tank with her fingernail, "... But a brave fool you are, Charles... You did what few people would even consider doing, heh... and you saved all of us in the process, so I'll let you slide... for now.


"And besides... We're family, Charles... No matter how deep in a trouble you'll ever get into, you'll still be my brother, and so it won't give reason for me to kill my own flesh and blood... well, unless you do something REALLY stupid, however, HAHAH!"


"Hahah... ahhhhh..." As he smiles to the Junkess and the old veteran he falls back to sleep almost immediately.


"As for you... Katarn Dragonbourne..." Amanda paces about for a moment before looking at him again, "... You're reward. You did a fine job helping us Junkers around, where most would turn a blind-eye to people like us... heheh... although I won't blame 'em for being such...


"I guess I can tell you what I know of your friend, Clare Campeche... I'll meet you over at the Essex bar later, after I finish filing the report on... all of this... frak." She rubs her forehead with her index finger and thumb in a frustrated and tired manner.










The old veteran passed the time on the Essex bar drinking the local beer known in these parts as "Molly's Blood" due in part to its common use with Bretonian Patrols drinking it after a long day's job of slaying Molly ships, ... A decent tasting drink this be, heheheh... Not as strong as me ol' faithful, but it be just as sweet, HAHAAAH...


"You seem to be enjoying yourself, old man. Care if I join ya?" Amanda sits to the opposite end of the table Katarn was using, "I guess you'll still be here for the next couple of days to take care of my foolish brother, eh?"


"Aye, that be true, HAHAHAH!" The old veteran grins humorously at the Junkess, "... Ye satisfied with me bringin in yer brother into these circumstances, lassy?"


"HAH! Actually, I wouldn't have it any other way! The punishment of having the Power Rerouter frying half of him up should be sufficient enough to remind him that he shouldn't be such a stupid fool, HAHAHAH! And he managed to show himself as a hero in the end too! Fine job, fine job..." Amanda grabs a swig of the Molly's Blood and gulps it down instantly.


"Now then... About your friend... you seem to be in luck, cause I met the old hag in her Decurion the Rio Dela Maria just recently, while I was coming here to Dublin---"


"She be alive?!" Katarn's heart skipped a beat, and his eyes twinkled in delight, "... This... THIS BE GOOD NEWS, HAHAHAHAH!!!"


"And... actually, she's not that much different from you, old man. She's also crazy in her own right, and boy she sure did have a short fuse, phew! Almost involved myself in a firefight when we met just for asking too many questions!"


"HAHAAAH! That be like her, alright! Always full o' fire an' on the move, that lass, HAHAHAH! Ah, me mind now be laid te rest an' be worrying 'bout her less, this be grand news, Amanda."


"She didn't want to be stopped for long, saying she was in a hurry heading off to the Tau systems in search of a 'gung-ho link to the past' or something, I'm not entirely sure... muttering jibberish the whole time, as if she'd gone mad already..."


"Did she say anythin about what she be lookin fer, exactly?" The old veteran's voice became anxious.


Amanda thought heavily to herself, sometimes scratching her head and turning away until she came up with an answer that chilled Katarn to the very bone...





"... Neophytes... She kept saying these 'Neophytes' were an important link to the past... She said it was 'imperative' or something to go look for these things, or people, or whatever, I didn't care at the time... "


The old veteran's eyes gazed in wonderment at what he just heard, and for a moment it seemed he was paralyzed in fear, "... N... Neophytes...? What... why she be... does that mean..."





... I be not understandin all this... Elizabeth be sayin the Orocin's mission be te search fer these 'Neophytes', but... There be not a single clue as te what they be... The vessel's databanks be corrupted about the topic, so I be left with nothin te work with, an' Elizabeth be seemin reluctant te cough up the info... She be only sayin she 'knows' a Neophyte when she be seein one...


... Now I be hearin that ol' Clare be searchin fer these people... but fer what real reason? Is she lookin fer me as well? Is she lookin fer me past? Has she found somethin out as I searched the span o' the galaxy with nothin te show fer it all?


... And that be not helpin at all when Elizabeth be sayin I be o' Neophyte 'origin' as well... I be not knowin what me own childhood be, let alone be able te explain her accusation o' me bein linked te these people... I also be havin these weird dreams an' visions o' sorts... does this mean I really be a...?


... this only be servin te dig the trench deeper... pfah... what a mess...


"Hey, old man! Seems the word Neophyte scared the living hell outta ya... You alright?"


The old veteran snaps out of his soliloquey and looks back again at Amanda's curious face, "Eh...? Ah... No... it be fine... It be just... confusin, that's all."


"Ah well, not my business to ask about it, I guess. I'll leave it to that. Amanda stands up from her chair and walks up to the old veteran's side, "That's all the info I have for you, Katarn. I hope it's useful to you in any way...


"Farewell, old man." Amanda soon walks away, leaving Katarn to contemplate deeply to himself and vainly try to make sense of it all...





After Charles' initial recovery aboard the Orocin was done, the Junkers and Katarn parted ways as the Prison Liner dislodged from the mooring ports of the Essex, and the ancient capital ship cruised its way towards the Tau Systems in continuing search of Clare Campeche... and the Neophytes...


As the Orocin reached the Dublin -> New London Jumpgate Katarn stood in the middle of the front part of the Bridge, his arms behind his back and his eyes dead straight, staring at seemingly nothing in front of it...





... Clare... I be keepin me promise, lass... I be comin fer ye...


... and I hope... when I be findin ye...


... Ye have the answers I seek...





... The Orocin soon entered the Jump Conduit, the ship now being propelled through the energy tunnel that led towards the system of New London on the other side...

.....END OF CHAPTER 2.....