From Darkness - Printable Version

From Darkness - Printable Version

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RE: From Darkness - Manticore - 10-13-2013

ROB

Wayfarer sat parked in a private slip at the Hamburg spaceport, looking as beat-up as ever. The loading ramp was down, and a young man was guiding a hovercart of supplies up and into the ship's hold.

Rob, Tanya, and a third man stood outside in the bay, quietly going over some last-minute details. They would be doing the actual work, this time, and the other four crewmembers would remain on station in case they were needed.

Rob checked the time. Mr. Arland had said he and his associate would be meeting them here... any minute now. Once Gage finished loading the supplies, the ship would be ready to depart at a moment's notice.

Moments later, Rob spotted James entering the slip, accompanied by a small young woman. Between them, they were carrying three nondescript bags filled with seemingly quite bulky equipment. They appeared to have been speaking animatedly about something before they saw their new acquaintances, expressions immediately sobering to become serious and businesslike.

James was the first to speak. "Good evening, everyone. As we've not all been introduced yet, I may as well begin: I am James Arland. This is Lisa Jaeger - she will be handling most of the tech challenges on this gig."

The girl, Lisa, simply nodded curtly.

Rob nodded to James, noting the casual dress both he and Lisa sported. Rob wore similar clothing himself, but Tanya was wearing what looked conspicuously like a set of military-grade battle armor, painted black with no markings. On her left was a Kusari man bearing a stern expression and wearing an identical set of armor - except his was painted matte gold - with a large rifle slung casually over his shoulder.

"Miss Jaeger, pleasure to meet you," Rob replied, amicably. "I'm Rob Shaw, this is my first office Tanya Carmen, and this gentleman is Kouta Miyamoto." Tanya mimicked Lisa’s curt nod, and the Kusari inclined his head in a slight bow.

Tanya then pointedly glared at Lisa, and Rob knew she was instantly doubting whether the young woman would be capable of handling this job.

Rob was unfazed, for he had long since learned not to judge people by first appearances. "The rest of the crew is inside. Perhaps we should head aboard and be sure everything is prepared?"

James nodded, hefting a bag. “We brought enough equipment for all of us, just in case. Sealed helmets, weapons, ammo - but you look as though you're mostly sorted,” he shrugged, then added, “Lead the way."

Rob gestured for everyone to follow him. They walked up the ramp and into Wayfarer's cargo hold. The young man seen previously was offloading the last couple boxes from the cart.

"Come on, Gage. It’s briefing time!" Rob called to him, as they passed through a door and into a corridor. The inside of the ship was a sharp contrast to the exterior - kept clean and orderly as opposed to pocked and scuffed. They took a right and entered a small gathering room with a few chairs centered around a small holoprojector. Rob pulled one up to the front, and gestured for the others to sit as he fished a small commlink out of his pocket and spoke into it, his voice echoing over the ship's intercoms. "Crew, meeting in the planner. Don't keep our guests waiting."

Rob turned back to James, lowering the commlink and smiling. "Kouta, as I'm sure you’ve already guessed, will be the third man on our end. He's a former Hogosha strong-arm, so long as you don't expect him to talk much he'll get the job done. The rest of the crew should be here soon."

“Very good,” James replied. “Lisa?" he asked expectantly as he turned to his associate.

The hacker handed him a small data storage unit. James promptly put it into the holoprojector, then flashed a grin at Rob. "I didn't bring any napkins this time, so I'm afraid holo's going to have to do. I'll start the animation when everyone's ready."

Rob nodded, turning his head towards the door as the rest of the crew started to file in.

First to enter was the young dark-haired man from the cargo bay. He was carefully wiping his hands with a cloth and took a seat next to Rob. "Gage Joiner, the ship's gunner," Rob introduced.

Next was a slim young woman, perhaps no older than twenty, with an animated face. She smiled at James and Lisa before taking a seat next to Tanya. "This is Sparrow Terrell, our pilot."

Right behind her was a gruff-looking old man with a trimmed beard that had gone almost entirely grey. "Lex Krause, the engineer." He glared at everyone before taking a seat back in the corner.

A moment passed before the final member of the crew entered - a curvy woman perhaps in her mid-twenties, with bright blue eyes and long brown hair. She spoke up as soon as she stepped inside, closing the hatch behind her. "I'm so sorry, everyone. Hope I didn't keep you waiting." Her accent was posh Bretonian, with lilting, musical tones.

"Not a problem," Rob responded, as she chose the closest seat to James and Lisa. "This is Floretta Kingsley, our doctor."

She smiled at the visitors with genuine welcome, nodding her head respectfully.

"Crew, these are Mr. Arland and Miss Jaeger - our employers for a job here on Hamburg,” Rob said. “Mr. Arland, if you would…"

James stood and turned on the holoprojector, and a wireframe model of a Gull-class cargo vessel sprung to life before them.

“Thank you, Mister Shaw. Now, ladies and gentlemen, listen closely. We have about an hour and a half until the Gull-class hauler Idus Martii arrives in this system, ferrying munitions, sensor tech, and heavy duty construction materials that they are hoping to sell off to the Rheinland Military.” His tone was smooth, confident and perhaps hiding a little bit of genuine excitement. “We are going to hijack this vessel, as Mister Shaw may already have imparted. Lying in wait just beyond the horizon, we’ll give pursuit when it reaches Hamburg high orbit, about here."

The diagram changed, showing Planet Hamburg, its two immediate trade lanes, then a bright red point somewhere in-between.

"We will then proceed to chase them towards the atmosphere, upon reaching the border of which I will perform a HALO jump from our vessel, the Emerald Venture, onto the Martii."

To his credit, he managed to say the last sentence with a completely straight face.

Most of the Wayfarer's crew simply gaped at him. Tanya even let out a short laugh, but Rob kept a straight face - as always the calm at the center of the storm. "You didn't tell me about this at our prior meeting, Mr. Arland. I was under the impression that our team was going to be boarding the ship in-flight, using Wayfarer." Rob paused, gazing at the projector for a long moment. "How are you planning to pull this maneuver off, anyways?"

James held up his hands a bit, a gesture of peace. "Rest assured, Mister Shaw. Your team will perform the main assault, though we've improved on the plan a bit - taking the transport planetside to a pre-prepared location, instead. Now, as for how I plan to pull my little stunt off, I intend to use this."

James unbuttoned his overcoat, then removed it entirely, showing off the construct beneath - matte black, sleek, vaguely-organic in form and very obviously not your garden variety suit of combat armor. He then sat down again, casual as could be.

"This suit has a great many advantages. I intend to use it to precision-guide me onto the ship with the help of a few portable thrusters and a grav-chute. Then I’ll infiltrate the ship, slave it to our AI, and pave the way for your assault."

Rob's face grew pensive, and he slowly started to nod. Tanya, however spoke first – her voice dubious. "You have an AI... and this advanced cybernetic suit? Exactly what sort of freelancers are you?"

James fixed Tanya with a look - cold, blue, and piercing. "The sort with a past, my friend. Pasts we'd rather keep for ourselves, unless you somehow think digging into our backgrounds now is mission critical?"

Rob shot Tanya a look as well, then turned back to James. "Mr. Arland, forgive Tanya for that. Your pasts are indeed not critical to our mission, and, after all," he paused to glance at Tanya again, "we're only getting involved if you actually do succeed with your part."

He nodded to James, a look of understanding passing between the two of them. "So, you'll be paving the way for our assault... I assuming rerouting the ship to set down at the location where the rest of us will be waiting? And that will be when we clear the ship for you?"

"Precisely. Provided nothing goes wrong, I will be holding down the main crew airlock until you arrive, making nobody escapes, and then I’ll join you. We push forward and clean house. I suspect we should hit each compartment in turn like this."

Lisa fiddled with something on a wireless device and the diagram changed. Four blue dots began to move through a floor plan of the Martii, in a pattern very similar to the one James had written on a bar napkin last night.

"Yes, I believe I understand it from here,” Rob responded. “You're correct, bringing the ship to us will make it much simpler on our end."

Abruptly, Floretta chimed in. "Sir, if I may ask - will Gage, Lex, Sparrow, and I be involved in any way?" If anything, she looked upset at having not been included.

Rob shrugged. "I suppose you could be on hand in the event of any injuries. Sparrow, Gage, and Lex should be on the Wayfarer, ready to leave as soon as needed."

He turned back to James. "What's the plan for after the ship is taken? Will we be joining you in selling the goods?"

James and Lisa shared a look. One almost imperceptible nod later, he was speaking again. "If you'd like the extra insurance, then sure. We'll also be selling off the vessel itself if it's still in working condition after the assault."

Rob shrugged. "I figured you'd want us for plausibility reasons, mostly. It takes more than two people to crew a Gull, and freelance traders who want to impress the Rheinland Military would be well-served to bring an escort ship along."

James smiled again, and it didn't look contrived. "In that case, the more, the merrier." He then looked to the rest of the crew in the room. "Better get ready for launch, our window is approaching."

Lex was out the door before he'd finished speaking, and Gage and Sparrow stepped out soon after.

Rob stood. "I suppose I'll walk you back out." First, he glanced at Tanya and Floretta, who were still in the room, and said, "Floretta, prep the med bay for a possible emergency, and Tanya, would you mind firing up my suit?"

The women departed - Tanya with determination and Floretta reluctantly - and Rob led them off the ship. "You know, this plan of yours is real sharp. Usually we have to do most of the planning ourselves, but this time I don't even have to lift a damn finger. I enjoy working with professionals."

As they emerged back into the cargo hold, he added, "This is going to go well. Nice and clean."

"The best kind of plan," James agreed. "Though, it's worth remembering that even the best plans might not survive first contact with the enemy, as they say."

Pausing at the top of the ramp, he added, "Before I go... What sort of jobs do you lot usually get up to, when you're not helping crazies with ship hijacks?"

Rob shrugged, smiling. "All sorts of things, really. Courier work, assassinations, bounties, protecting VIPs, escorting traders, even occasionally reconnecting loved ones. No two jobs are ever the same - keeps things interesting, you know?"

James nodded then turned to add one final thing on his way down the ramp, Lisa followed quietly - she seemed to be content to watch and listen.

"You know what, when this is done, I'll send you our frequency. You never know what the future might bring. For now, let's see if I can avoid being reduced to a stain on the ground or on a freighter hull, yeah?"

Rob smiled. "You got it," he said, and watched them turn and walk down the ramp. They were certainly among the most interesting employers he’d ever worked with. This wouldn’t be a dull job.

(Credit to l3wt for his character's portion of this chapter.)

RE: From Darkness - l3wt - 10-28-2013

ARLAND

In orbit above Planet Hamburg, just beyond the horizon and out of sight of the steadily approaching Idus Martii, James sat in the nearly completely empty cargo hold of Lisa's newly acquired gunboat, the Emerald Venture, and waited.

He had gone over his equipment about thirty times now already, and he was growing sick of the waiting. Suit, check. Gravchute unit, check. Thruster unit, check. Oxygen, check. It was an intimidating prospect, this thing he was about to do - dropping onto a moving ship from low orbit. It seemed insane, even.

But James had steadily learned over the course of his career that what people deemed insane or impossible was more often than not just hard, and all you had to do to accomplish any task was to break it down into smaller, less difficult tasks. Then the hard became outright manageable.

But regardless of this mindset, when he looked at the task in its entirety again, he still could not help but agree that, yes, this was a little crazy.

Oh well.

He stood up, pulling the cybernetic suit's face mask down over his head, watching the haptic display wink into life, and hearing the low hiss as the material knit together to create an airtight seal.

"Lisa, depressurize the cargo bay and open the bay doors when you're ready. JADE, start the timer and the guidance system."

Lisa came over the comm. "Got them on my scanners - right on cue. We're getting lined up now."

A few seconds passed, then she spoke again. "Okay, depressurizing in three, two, one..."

The bay doors opened as the pressurized air hissed out. "Drop in thirty!"

Those remaining thirty seconds felt like an eternity as he stood there on the edge, a compact automatic rifle strapped across his chest, chute on his back, and stared down at the gray-and-white brilliance of the world stretching out beneath him.

The only thing he could really hear was the sound of his own breath and heartbeat, drumming out a steady rhythm as he now, just in case everything went straight to hell, slowly made peace with his mistakes, desires, and memories.

"I'll see you on the ground."

One way or another.

"Go!" she shouted, as they reached the point of optimal trajectory. Quietly, a moment later, she added, "Good luck..."

When he timer reached zero, he stepped off the ramp - tranquil, and without a thought.

The only thing left to do now, as the whiteness below came closer, was to follow the guidance grid in front of his eyes. This little stroke of genius was constantly updated with scans of the cargo ship's current course, performed by the Emerald Venture. A few microadjustments with the thruster unit and he had stopped the tumbling that he'd been on the verge of seguing into.

Then he simply kept falling like this for a good long while. The dreamlike quality of silence was, however, soon replaced with the howling of the wind just outside his mask, as the sky became bluer around him.

"20 seconds to visual contact," chimed in a smooth female voice. JADE's, he remembered. It broke him out of his trance-like state.

He noticed, thankfully, that the AI had seen fit to intervene and do several more thruster adjustments, reducing his speed somewhat. If this was even slightly off, he knew, he'd either miss the ship entirely or crash into its hull at terminal velocity.

Then, he saw it in the distance, the engine flare of the Idus Martii, unaware of the lone soul falling in to intercept it. She was making good speed, some detached part of James' mind noted. And even now that she was a pinprick in the distance this was to be considered final approach.

"Activate chute in five," JADE calmly intoned.

The chute, despite the name, did not actually affect gravity in any real way, but rather functioned as a set of powerful repulsors trailing behind the user when activated, allowing for a great deal more control and deceleration than otherwise possible with traditional parachutes - something the Bretonian mercenary now falling at terminal velocity on an intercept trajectory with a moving ship was immensely grateful for.

As he was yanked back by the chute, maneuvered himself into position, and the ship rapidly grew in size beneath him, James was beyond noticing the fact that he was muttering several colourful swearwords to himself just before he hit the release and fell onto the top of the Gull's spinal structure just a little too fast.

In retrospect, he was incredibly lucky to be alive. A second earlier and his ribs would likely have been pushed through his heart and lungs, killing him instantly. As it stood, the suit had protected him sufficiently for him to suffer only a very minor concussion and a few cracked ribs.

This was good enough, in his book. He'd nearly blacked out, but he was back again now, and the suit could keep him functioning and effective until the job was done - administering painkillers and lightening the pressure on the damaged bones.

He grit his teeth as he clutched the hull panel he'd latched on to a little tighter, eventually managing to drag the rest of his body on top of the ship. Now, he had to crawl over to one of the auxiliary airlocks - he'd remembered the location of each and every one of them when he'd studied the blueprints.

His rifle was gone, he noticed now. The impact must have knocked it loose, sent it flying with the wind. He still had his handgun and entry devices, but this was a setback.

In the end, it didn't matter, he could either go inside or he could get off without a chute, and that was hardly a choice. He slapped one of the entry explosives onto the airlock hatch, and looked away as it melted its way through the metal of the airlock. Then he repeated the procedure for the next. It was a rather ingenious little device that he'd cobbled together from the munitions he had stolen with Lisa on their last excursion, a tandem-EMP/thermite-based bomb that burned hot enough to force its way through even ship-grade alloy.

When he finally stood within the ship, breathing raggedly and fairly certain he could taste blood in his mouth, he drew his handgun, the same one he'd used as an officer of the Armed Forces. Then, he commed Lisa.

"I'm in, I'm in the ship! Notify Wayfarer, and give me a waypoint marker to the mainframe! This looks like, ah, the upper deck maintenance room, I can see equipment and EVA suits up here."

Lisa piped back in. "Copy. Are... are you okay? Your vitals have gone a bit... off."

Regardless, she threw him a waypoint of the ship's mainframe from his location, based on their blueprints of the ship. She also commed Wayfarer with an update.

"I'm fine, just a hard landing. I'm en route, they've probably noticed something's wrong, now."

James grinned wolfishly behind bloodied teeth, fixed a suppressor to his pistol, then began moving.

RE: From Darkness - Manticore - 11-05-2013

STEVEN

All the captains and executive officers of the units in the newly-created task group filed into the cavernous briefing room and took their seats. At the front of the room, Admiral Alan Polstari stood at a lectern and watched them enter, his staff seated around him.

Lieutenant Steven Falkland was among the last to enter, and chose a seat near the front on the left side of the room. James Lambert, his exec, dutifully followed him. They were aboard the China Lake, Polstari's dreadnought flagship, and this briefing had been called for something called "Operation Charging Bull". Falkland disregarded the Naval grapevine by principal, so he knew nothing else about this planned operation.

As the last of the officers took their seats, Polstari cleared his throat, preparing to speak. Falkland had studied the man closely over the course of the previous interactions they'd had - he was a by-the-book sort, a stickler for rules and procedures, and a walking contradiction. Polstari's attitude and demeanor matched that of a much older man, the sort of career admiral who'd served for decades and wanted everything done precisely his way. But Polstari himself was startlingly young, having achieved flag rank at an age younger than most lieutenants and lieutenant commanders. Not only that, but Polstari was assigned to primary fleet, meaning that he served directly under Fleet Admiral Baker herself and that he, unlike most other admirals, was considered a direct superior to Lieutenants Falkland and Lambert.

"Welcome to the first briefing for Operation Charging Bull," Polstari began. "The Fleet Admiral has assembled this task group specifically for this operation, and our timetable is rather short. Thus, I'd ask you to pay close attention and keep all questions to a minimum."

He paused momentarily, as officers prepared to take notes, and then continued. "This operation will be of an offensive nature, and we will be striking into Rheinland territory in significant numbers for the first time in several months."

There was a quiet murmur through the room, and Falkland resisted the urge to grimace at the reaction. The officers in the room were acutely aware of the dangers of letting a wounded enemy hang around. As far as they were concerned, this was a long time coming.

"We'll be taking our entire unit to Hamburg," Polstari continued, unruffled by the reaction, "and making a strike at Altona Station, in orbit of Planet Hamburg. The LSF has provided us some remarkable intel - the Kanzler himself will be making a visit to Hamburg, and his party is scheduled to stop over on Altona for an hour before being shuttled to the surface."

There was stunned silence in the crowd of officers. This was an enormous opportunity - a chance to end the war in a single blow.

"This task group has been ordered to perform a hit and run operation on the station, using the marines aboard the Mesa Verde," he paused and looked directly at Falkland, "to board the station, eliminate the Kanzler and his bodyguards, and withdraw as soon as possible."

Lambert glanced over, and Falkland pointedly ignored him. This was an enormous task, especially considering the relatively small size of their marine unit. But it was also a grand opportunity - the sort he had been awaiting for a very long time.

His mind whirring off in other directions, Falkland calmly gazed back at Polstari until the admiral finally continued.

"The Mesa Verde will move in under covering fire from the capital units, accompanied by a fighter escort. We do not anticipate any significant resistance, but we will have to hold position until the job is done and the entire force can withdraw back to Liberty."

Polstari continued laying out the plan, having now gained the rapt attention of every man and woman in the room. To Falkland, the plan seemed sound, if rather simplistic. Simple had its place, but the unspoken subtext was that the fancy work would be left up to the marines – and ultimately, Falkland – to figure out. That would be messy, no matter how everything else went. Either they managed to succeed, and Falkland took the credit, or they failed spectacularly, and Falkland took the blame. It was not the sort of risk he was accustomed to taking, not when so much else was on the line.

Then, an idea crept into his head – a delightfully cold-blooded idea. A way to guarantee his own interests would be furthered, no matter what else happened.

For the rest of the briefing he did not pay attention to a word that was said, intent on his own internal machinations.

RE: From Darkness - Manticore - 11-10-2013

LISA

Lisa Jaeger sat at the helm of her new gunboat – the Errant Venture – and fidgeted nervously. Despite her outward showing of support, she privately agreed with the other freelancers about this particular part of the plan. It was crazy.

For the tenth time, she glanced at the scanner - currently stretching invisible fingers far ahead and below to pinpoint the location of their target: the Idus Martii. It was nearly time.

She let out a long breath, running fingers through her short hair. A downside of JADE’s unbelievable speed and efficiency was that she was left feeling powerless. The AI was currently flying the ship, making miniscule adjustments to their course to line up with the calculated trajectory for James’ freefall. And JADE would be doing the majority of the work once James plugged her into the target’s mainframe, as well.

Lisa hated being powerless. It reminded her too much of being a slave.

Frustrated, she checked again. Almost there.

James’ voice crackled to life in her ear. "Lisa, depressurize the cargo bay and open the bay doors when you're ready. JADE, start the timer and the guidance system."

She nodded, checking the scanner readout once again. At least she had this small task to handle manually. "Got them on my scanners - right on cue. We're getting lined up now." She tried to sound as confident as possible. It was getting more and more difficult to manage.

She waited for a long moment until the readout finally flashed to green as JADE confirmed their alignment. "Okay, depressurizing in three, two, one..." she said, and then hit a small button on her console. A section of the Venture’s schematic sputtered from green to angry red as the pressurized atmosphere vented into Hamburg’s stratosphere.

A timer suddenly appeared on her main monitor, counting down from thirty seconds. JADE was nothing if not precise. "Drop in thirty!" she half-yelled into the comm. It was getting more and more difficult to maintain her composure.

"I'll see you on the ground,” James said, with an eerie placidity in his voice.

Lisa wanted to say something… anything… but then the timer hit zero and raw instinct took over. “Go!” she shouted.

Belatedly, she quietly added, “Good luck…”

Looking at the active sensor readout, she saw James appear as a small blip to the stern of the ship, then disappear as the scanners lost him.

However, JADE was jacked in to his suit’s electronics suite, and she had pinpointed him on the tactical display as he made the approach. Lisa watched the small numbers beside his falling icon with trepidation. His speed had picked up quite a bit, and she watched, helplessly, as he coordinated tiny maneuvers with JADE’s steady help. The distance to target kept falling, and he still hadn’t opened the grav chute.

She winced. Would it be possible to decelerate enough to stop in time? The numbers were changing too rapidly for her to mentally do the math, but she trusted her AI to get it right. She’d better get it right…

More seconds passed as James continued to plummet. Then, abruptly, his icon changed as Jade released the chute. The Venture’s scanners still didn’t see a thing, Lisa noted, which was a good omen for the stealthy aspect of this maneuver.

Then, impact. It happened so fast Lisa almost missed it. James’s vitals fluttered dangerously, and for a moment she was deathly afraid.

Then, they stabilized enough for her to release the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She resisted the urge to comm him immediately, knowing that he would need all his focus to successfully breach the ship’s hull.

A moment later, his icon moved, paused again, and then vanished. The screen shifted, showing the schematic of a Gull-class transport, and James’s icon appeared again, this time just inside an airlock.

Her comm crackled to life, James’s voice sounding slightly pained, but triumphant. "I'm in, I'm in the ship! Notify Wayfarer, and give me a waypoint marker to the mainframe! This looks like, ah, the upper deck maintenance room, I can see equipment and EVA suits up here."

"Copy,” she replied. “Are... are you okay? Your vitals have gone a bit... off."

Her fingers flew now, sending him a waypoint of the estimated location of the mainframe. She also sent a brief encoded message to Wayfarer, advising them to prepare for action.

"I'm fine, just a hard landing. I'm en route, they've probably noticed something's wrong, now."

She nodded, and began working to guide him through the ship. Then, on a gut feeling, she ordered the Venture’s autopilot to descend to the rendezvous point where Wayfarer already waited. JADE would be able to handle the interactions with the mainframe without Lisa’s help, and James would need her the moment that ship touched down.

RE: From Darkness - l3wt - 11-11-2013

ARLAND

James walked briskly, gun half-raised as he edged around the corner and entered the next corridor quietly. Corridor wasn't quite the right term, though. Walkway seemed more right - there were people just underneath - one male, one female, from what he could hear of their conversation. As he activated the thermal filter in his optics, he saw the female was armed, somewhat nervously fidgeting with a pistol. He strained his hearing, trying to discern their words over the hum of the power plant.

"...Seriously, what the hell is happening on upper deck? First our shields go, then we get an airlock malfunction. What the hell kind of atmospheric disturbance does that?"

"I dunno, I just don't know. I don't like it either, captain sent Drebin and Sykes up to check it out. Hopefully that's the end of that."

Swearing under his breath, James turned to see the magnetic lock in the centre of the door at the end of the walkway rotate. In less than a second it would open and then the investigators, Sykes and Drebin, would probably be stepping through.

James decided then to abandon any attempt to hide, just began a mad dash towards the self-same door. The first man to die didn't even have time to be surprised at the black blur racing towards him, a bullet already having passed through his brain, sending his twitching body staggering back into his friend.

The second man had another second or so. Enough for a tiny "What?" to pass his lips, but not enough to bring his weapon to bear past his dead friend before the butt of a pistol smashed into his face with enough force to break his nose and send him spinning to the floor. Another bullet ended him.

James didn't stop to register his handiwork, or even the features of the two men he'd just killed. He simply did not have time. He estimated there were another thirty crew left, more or less.

Two turns, slicing the pie around each. Passed the infirmary, the ship's doctor died with two rounds in his chest and one in his forehead. Tried to defend himself with a scalpel. No time to think about that either. Just move.

He heard someone finding the body, screaming for help. The female he heard earlier by the sound of it, no time to go back and deal with it, he had to find the mainframe - near the fore in the "neck" section of the ship, just behind what passed for the ship's bridge. Found it, large cylindrical structure, but there could be personnel in the bridge, couldn't risk them coming to investigate.

Barged through the door, killing the male captain and the female pilot, emptying the rest of the magazine into the backs of their chairs, reload, turn, heard footsteps and shouting and the mechanical clack of weapons being chambered. The storage unit with the programs letting JADE hijack the ship, he inserted that into the frame and held his ground as he waited for it to unpack its contents and do its work.

He slowly slid his combat knife out of its sheath, and listened for the steps. A large man, probably security, turned the corner first, forgetting to keep his distance. James' knife entered his throat with enough force to sever the spine. The guy behind him was smarter, stood back. He opened fire, cutting loose with a submachinegun, rounds passing through the corpse of the man who went first. The rounds weren't powerful enough to penetrate James' suit after passing through the corpse, but it knocked the mercenary down with the corpse on top of him. James' handgun coughed politely at the second assailant as well, and he sank to the ground with his finger still on the trigger, his gun spending the rest of its magazine wildly - a lethal web of ricochets mangling the bodies further.

After the shower of low-energy rounds had subsided and the ominous metallic ringing stopped, the mercenary shoved the corpse off himself and staggered to his feet, coughing a couple of times. For the first time he was really noticing the pain coming from his battered ribs, even through the dull cloud of painkillers in his system. Now there was probably blood on the inside of his mask, too, great. It still didn't matter any. He wasn't done here. He pointed his handgun out around the corner and popped off another couple of shots to dissuade any further attempts to rush him. Nobody came, except for a few bullets exchanged in return from a way down the corridor.

Ah. So they were learning. Gold star, A for effort.

It wouldn't save them.

He kept standing by that corner for a good long while, listening to the panicked discussion of the now very much alarmed and panicked crewmen covering the exit he was standing by.

"He's still there, he's, he's gotta be, Trev and Sasha have the other walkway covered, look!"

"Then let's grenade him already! I don't know about you, but I don't wanna take any chances with this psycho."

"What? No! He's standing right next to the ship mainframe, if that goes down now, we're boned! Look, the people in engineering probably took some of the munitions in cargo, last I heard they were coming up to clear this asshole out."

"Keep it down, what if he heard that?!"

This was, of course, a very interesting thing for James to hear.

Then he felt the ship lurch as it suddenly changed course, and he knew that he'd done the main part of the job. He whispered into his comm, between ragged breaths. He wasn't sure if the taste of blood was the residue staining the inside of his mask, his imagination, or coming up from his lungs.

"It's done, the ship's changing course. Moving to primary airlock."

Then just outside, from an elevator out by the one of the exits to the walkway, he heard movement and shouting, lots of voices. An assault was impending that he was not likely to survive.

So James would simply not fight them. He waited until he could hear the door begin to open, then he went out on the walkway opposite to the approach of the men from engineering, enduring the fire that immediately opened up on him from the two people covering that exit. The suit could take another few hits, at least from pistols. And though he flinched as he absorbed every impact - one in his leg, one in his shoulder - he sent them ducking for cover again with a flurry of return fire before promptly jumping the railing to the lower deck.

Some unfortunate technician down there was left with a knife buried to the hilt in his rib cage and his automatic rifle relieved from him. He ran and ran, and before he knew it, James had reached the main airlock down near the entrance to the cargo hold.

"And here, I hold my ground," he told to nobody in particular. He pulled the charging handle once, with deliberate violence - knowing the noise would signal his intent to the crewmembers closing in on him.

He should be afraid, he knew.

But he had already accepted death.

And he would ensure it reached the crew of this ship before it came to him.

RE: From Darkness - Manticore - 11-15-2013

INTERLUDE

root:\\fp2\comm\commserve\cblock\net\0125

Access DENIED.
Enter authorization code.

AAMT YFSH PQQB

Access GRANTED.
User "Betty" has joined the chat.

Alice: Since you've connected successfully, I assume you are the man I wish to speak to.

Betty: Very much so. And I assume you had something specific in mind with initiating this whole... hopefully untraceable interaction.

Betty: Now, I would like to know what your proposal is, requiring this amount of preparation and secrecy.

Alice: Very well. The Liberty Security Force has obtained intelligence regarding the movements of the Kanzler himself. Specifically that he will be visiting Hamburg in three days time. The Liberty Navy is preparing an assault, timed specifically with his stopover on Altona.

Alice: What I propose is simple: the Kanzler needs to be anywhere but Hamburg at that time, and in his place there should be a... rather large fleet, set to ambush the Libertonians.

Betty: How exactly did you get such information, if I may inquire?

Alice: I'm afraid I cannot clarify that any further. You may confirm with my superiors their level of trust in my information, if you wish. Know that we wish to wound Liberty equally as much as you do.

Betty: I would not dare question your motives, I am merely curious. Nonetheless, it bothers me that the Liberty Navy possesses such intelligence.

Betty: Your proposal is sound. However, it can be turn out to be quite difficult. Our assets are busy at the front, and other assets are busy in the core. Weakening the Liberty Navy with such an ambush could be another stone for the avalanche.

Betty: There is something I have to ask though. If they have sensitive information such as the movement of the Kanzler, wouldn't a few missing cruisers, maybe even a battleship moving back to Alster on that very day would go unnoticed?

Alice: I cannot tell you for certain, I'm afraid. However, my source's impression of the situation indicates that the LSF acquired this information from an isolated, and quite fortunate, leak.

Alice: I do know this, however: the Navy cannot commit overwhelming force to this operation. If they get spooked, they will simply abort the mission.

Betty: Your impulse to tell us this is most welcome. We have to review our information and deal accordingly. I appreciate your efforts. Now, was there anything else you had in mind you would like to discuss?

Betty: We have experience with revealing rats within our own ranks. Could you possibly have any information that leads to the culprit?

Alice: Unfortunately, that is outside of my source's area of operation. Please understand that if I could provide you any further guidance, I would.

Alice: Unless you wish to discuss anything else, it would likely be best to keep our contact as brief as possible. Despite the measures I have taken, there is some risk in contacting you directly.

Betty: Indeed. Now, I would once again like to express my gratitude. If there is nothing else, this connection can be closed.

Alice: Thank you. I do hope you make good use of the information I have provided. It would be a shame to let such an opportunity go unseized.

Connection TERMINATED.
Session end.

(Credit to LordVipex for his character's portion of this chapter.)

RE: From Darkness - Manticore - 11-26-2013

LAMBERT

The hulking shape of the LMS Mesa Verde seemed insignificant alongside the massive hull of the Dreadnought-class LNS China Lake. The two ships, accompanied by an assortment of cruisers and gunboats surrounding them, waited in the Bering system for the final order to jump into Rheinland space.

On the bridge of the Mesa Verde, the crucial cog in this entire operation, James Lambert paced nervously. He kept lifting his eyes to peer out the front viewport at the jumpgate that sat silently before them, waiting to carry them into battle.

Lieutenant Commander Steven Falkland, for his part, looked infuriatingly calm, Lambert thought. He supposed it made sense, in a twisted way – the freshly-minted Lieutenant Commander was merely responsible for the delivery and extraction of the marine unit, a far cry from their challenging work of navigating an unknown station and eliminating a single, heavily-guarded target.

There’s a reason the marines call us the ‘Grand Bus Drivers’, Lambert reflected, suddenly having to resist the urge to smirk. His training with the marines for the past few weeks had been eye-opening, and Lambert’s respect had only grown once he’d seen the meticulous way they had prepared for this specific operation. Despite knowing little about the combat environment, the marine officers had established a broad and adaptable plan of operations that remained remarkably simple.

And yet, Lambert would be spending the duration of the operation here on the Mesa Verde, likely relegated to nervously watching monitors and twiddling his thumbs. It would be the worst possible place to be while the men he now thought of as his brothers-in-arms were aboard Altona, putting their lives on the line to finally end this war.

Suddenly, an idea struck him, and he decided to act on it before his sense got the better of him. He turned to face Falkland, spine reflexively tightening to a posture of attention.

“Sir, may I have permission for a temporary relief of duty so I may join the fighter wing on this assault?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Lambert realized how idiotic they must’ve sounded. No senior officer in his right mind would sacrifice the valuable services of his executive officer for such a dangerous stunt. Not to mention that Lambert was an infamously poor pilot in a snubcraft – something that Falkland was well aware of.

The Lieutenant Commander’s face remained placid, but Lambert saw the gears turning in the man’s head as he considered the idea far longer than Lambert had anticipated he would. Then, finally, with a slight grimace of distaste, he said, “Permission granted, Lieutenant. You are relieved of your responsibilities to me until we return to Liberty.”

Lambert was stunned, but reflex took over as he saluted crisply and quickly exited the bridge before Falkland could change his mind.

He did not see the tiny smirk directed at his back as he walked away.

* * *

Less than fifteen minutes later, Lambert was uncomfortably wedged into the cockpit of his Guardian, floating alongside the Mesa Verde in space. He’d decided to visit the armory first, and sure enough there had been a spare suit of battle armor left in the wake of the marine unit’s preparations – in fact, it was the same one he’d previously used in several training exercises. He felt more comfortable going into battle with it on, but the bulk of the damned thing made the already tight fit inside the fighter’s cockpit even worse.

He sighed as he shifted again in his seat, trying in vain to find a small measure of comfort. Failing that, he glanced down at his sensors, which reported in with a bright green listing of the allied ships in the vicinity. Aside from the Mesa Verde and China Lake, there were also three Archer-class siege cruisers, four Shark-class gunboats, and a total of a dozen other Guardians in the task group. Not the most impressive fleet he’d ever been a part of, but all things told it should be plenty to handle this task.

With a few key taps, Lambert inserted himself into the fighter squadron’s comm net, then spoke into his mic. “Lieutenant Lambert, reporting in.”

“Lieutenant, good to have you with us. I’m Commander Peterson, and I’ll be Squadron Leader for this run.”

“Commander,” Lambert acknowledged respectfully. “Where do you want me?”

“Tell you what – stick on my wing for this one. I’ve heard you Primary Fleet jocks know a thing or two about torching Wraiths, perhaps that means you’ll be able to keep up with my tally?”

Several good-natured chuckles echoed over the comm, and Lambert grinned. “Fair enough, provided you don’t judge the entire Primary Fleet based on my performance. Fly with Sanders or Raven sometime if you really want a lesson.”

Peterson laughed at that. “Yes, I’ve heard of those two. Still, let’s see what you’ve got - intel indicates this one should be akin to shooting Rogues in a barrel.”

Lambert was about to reply when a new speaker interrupted their conversation – the familiar voice of Admiral Polstari. “Fighters, the fleet is preparing to move out. Please take point and inform us of any unusual sightings along the way.”

“Understood, sir,” Peterson responded. “Pilots, let’s move!”

The Guardians lit off their main engines, and swarmed towards the gate. Lambert slotted himself in on Peterson’s right wing as the gate shuddered to life, the enormous maw opening wide to swallow their tiny craft.

Lambert reached down and grabbed his helmet in a gloved fist, awkwardly pulling it to his head in the cramped space and microgravity. All was dark for a moment as he lowered it over his head, sealing it to the rest of the suit with a low hiss.

He took a deep lungful of the cool, processed air as the heads-up display snapped to life in front of him. His suit’s comms automatically connected to the squadron channel, wiring the chatter of the pilots directly to his ear.

He was ready to enter Rheinland again, for what he sincerely hoped was the last time.

RE: From Darkness - l3wt - 11-26-2013

ARLAND

James barked out a directive even as the first rounds burst against his chosen piece of cover, a strong bulkhead by the main airlock.

"JADE, disable the elevators, seal off any compartments behind me. I don't want any surprises or reinforcements."

The purpose of this was rather simple - he couldn't afford to be caught off guard by more people from below, and now that he'd eliminated the possibility of being flanked from any compartments further aft of his position, he only had the hub-like spinal area running the ship's length to worry about. He had effectively turned any approach to his position into his personal shooting gallery. They could pop up from the side rooms, and shoot at him from upper walkways, but it didn't change the fact that any fire coming his way would be from the front, and he had a nice, thick metal wall to hide behind.

He took stock of his ammunition. Four more magazines for his handgun, not including the one currently in use, 20 rounds each. 45 rounds in the magazine of his stolen assault rifle, judging by the little display on the side, and one spare magazine he'd taken the time to pilfer off the dead crewman. Should be enough.

Now what was he missing?

Ah. Music.

A little fiddling with his haptic display and something suitably martial was thumping through the mask's auditory systems - a software upgrade let it filter external sounds as well, and let him hear certain audio patterns of his choosing even over the music.

Such as that of the grenade clanging against the floor by his feet. He kicked it out back into no-man's land, with some contempt, then waited for the blast. A split second after he felt the shockwave and felt shrapnel ricocheting against his suit - regular steel ball bearings, not quite enough to harm him after bouncing off the walls and losing most of their energy.

Someone had thought to try and use the confusion of the grenade to close with him, a man with a light machinegun taken from the ship's cargo. James was significantly less confused than predicted, and leaned out of cover, catching the man in the open. The assailant had his torso torn half to pieces with a long burst of automatic fire. James himself was sent flinching back into cover by a retort from a second and third combatant, who appeared to have been covering the first one.

While these two busied themselves with suppressing him, James shuffled over to the other side of his wall. Sticking the rifle out past the corner and firing a blind, somewhat experimental burst which brought about another hail of gunfire on that side too, confirming his suspicions that there was indeed someone covering that side of his wall as well.

Since it was already a day of firsts, James decided to try a trick he'd only vaguely considered in the past, but had dismissed as sort of preposterous. After nesting the rifle in one shoulder and raising it to aim as per usual, he removed his off hand from it, using it to hold his pistol instead. Then he amped up the suit's arm stabilizer system - essentially causing his arms and hands to nearly stiffen in place around his weapons, something he'd typically only do for something requiring long-range marksmanship.

Now was the time to stop thinking again, as he popped back out of cover, targeting two positions simultaneously, firing each weapon independent of one another, the staccato bursts from the rifle being accompanied by the sharp suppressor-coughs of the handgun.

It was hardly his best shots, in fact, marksmen across the sector would have banged their heads against a wall in unison had they been observing, but for this combat distance it was simply accurate enough. With a bit of sustained firing, he'd managed to trip up the enemy's sense of firefight dynamics, such as it were, and crewmen began to poke their heads out to fire at the wrong times. With detached satisfaction James noted that after expending another thirty rounds or so, he'd sent another three crewmen slumping to the floor, motionless in pools of blood.

He began to lose track of time.

He'd almost stopped caring about the return fire, too. A rifle round had impacted his shoulder at some point, penetrating the suit and lodging itself there. He knew he'd probably lost more blood than was strictly healthy, but like everything else, it didn't matter, so long as he could still keep those guns firing, and his position locked down.

When he slumped back into cover to reload, for - what, the third? Fourth time? He didn't know how long it had been, but his breathing had gotten worse, and the rifle was finally empty, he'd tried to conserve the last rounds as best as he could. Had they even landed yet? He didn't know. Most of the return fire had stopped, but he pointed the pistol back around the corner and sent another couple of blind rounds downrange again, mostly out of spite.

He was getting... a bit light-headed. This was hardly ideal. He needed backup soon.

RE: From Darkness - Manticore - 11-30-2013

LAMBERT

Even though Hamburg had been a frequent battleground in the long war between Liberty and Rheinland, it had been quite some time since the Liberty Navy had hit the system in any form of attack. So when thirteen Navy Guardians emerged from a tradelane into Hamburg orbit, they were greeted by a decidedly underwhelming show of force. Four Military Wraiths - and a Daumann transport with escorts, who promptly fled in the opposite direction.

“Let’s pave the way for our friends. Torch these jokers!” Peterson ordered over the squadron comms. His Guardian leapt forward, first into the fray. Lambert kicked his thruster to life, following him in.

As the rest of their unit followed, the Wraiths silently moved to engage. Lambert spared a moment to admire their bravery – they were likely the Kanzler’s honor guard, duty-bound to protect him at all costs. And they would die for their Kanzler, just like so many others.

What were a few more lives on the tally of this war, especially when they stood in the way of a chance to bring it to an end?

Blue fire rocketed from Peterson’s ship as he opened up on the lead Wraith, and Lambert followed suit. He was flying a standard-issue Guardian equipped with Vengeance lasers – one of a few of the snubcraft kept aboard the Mesa Verde for escort and close support purposes. They fired in rapid, staccato bursts, and the Wraith couldn’t dodge all the fire from both Guardians. Several blue bolts splashed across his front shielding, causing the narrow shape of the Wraith to briefly glow white.

Green bolts flew back at them, and Lambert instinctively broke to the right as Peterson peeled off to the left, starting his turn as the Wraiths screamed past. The two Guardians formed up again behind the Wraiths, and together they opened up on the lead Rheinlander again as he chased another Libertonian fighter.

One of Lambert’s bursts hit home, then two of Peterson’s. The Wraith’s shields flickered, and then died as her pilot broke off his own firing run to weave madly. Lambert strained to follow the moving target as he filled the space around the Rheinlander with long bursts of energy. He scored a couple of lucky hits, softening the Wraith’s armor as Peterson suddenly blasted ahead to close the gap further.

“Let’s see if you’re ready for… this!” Peterson exclaimed over the comm as a plume of exhaust separated from his ship. The Rheinlander was just a beat too slow, and the missile closed the gap before he could fire a countermeasure.

A split second later his Wraith was a rapidly expanding cloud of debris.

Peterson whooped in triumph as Lambert noticed a second Wraith flicker off his sensors. Rheinland’s elite or not, their numbers disadvantage was only growing worse.

“Nice shooting, sir. It’s probably time to call in the big boys, isn’t it?” Lambert said.

“Good idea, Kappa-13,” Peterson replied, now switching to their operational designations. There was a small burst of static as he switched to the task group’s general comm. “Command, this is Kappa Leader - we’ve cleared the way for you. Just finishing off the last two little guys here at the planet.”

“Understood, Kappa Leader,” Polstari’s stern voice responded. “We’ll be there shortly.”

Lambert and Peterson jumped back into the fight, which was actually more of a chase at this point. The two remaining Wraiths had split up, and were both wildly dodging off in different directions – not even bothering to try and shoot back. The other Libertonian pilots chased them, trying to score the lucky hit that would finish the job.

Moments later, Lambert’s sensor readout flashed as new contacts came into range. Friendly capital ships burst through the nearby trade lane one by one, and the Wraiths immediately seemed to decide that the odds had finally reached the point of impossibility. They rabbited, fleeing for the inner system roughly in the direction of Alster.

“Let them go,” Peterson ordered, and the Guardians broke off and moved to form up alongside the capital ships.

“Let’s get this going,” Polstari said over the task group comms. “Deliver the payload.”

“Copy,” Falkland’s voice gruffly acknowledged, and the Mesa Verde broke off to approach Altona, spectacularly backlit against the planet’s icy glow.

As the modified Bison drew up alongside the spindly shape of the station, Lambert spotted the white streaks of the Marine demo teams quickly crossing the gap. Moments later, there were several flashes along the station’s flank as the demolitions experts blasted into access ports and docking bays. Right on cue, the Verde disgorged several smaller vessels – the two Kodiaks and several smaller assault shuttles which, between them, contained the ship’s entire marine contingent. Zeroing in on their targets, they spread out and headed for the fresh wounds in the station’s armor.

The Mesa Verde peeled off and headed back to the rest of the fleet, her job now complete.

“All teams report successful insertion. Resistance minimal.” It was the voice of Major Baugh, the CO of the marine unit. “We’re proceeding to clear the station.”

“Acknowledged,” Polstari replied, as the capital ships entered a defensive formation, arrayed against the trade lane to Alster. The Rheinlanders would probably send something their way before they could finish the operation, but it wouldn’t be anything large enough to crack the defenses of the task group.

Peterson dispatched his own orders, instructing his pilots to space out and maintain sensor watch for anything hostile headed their way. Lambert followed Peterson on a sweep of the near side of the planet, to be sure nothing nasty decided this would be a good time to head up from the planet’s surface.

All was quiet, and for this brief moment, Liberty was the de-facto owner of the space over Hamburg. Lambert keyed into the marines’ tactical net as they swept the station. He wanted to at least be on the comm when they found the chancellor.

“This one’s clear, move on up!”

“Clear here too.”

“Where is everyone? No contact with… any hostiles.”

“Keep moving, Private! We’re sweeping the whole damn thing.”

Lambert grinned as he recognized Gunny Brack’s voice. Still, it was unusual that they hadn’t encountered any station personnel yet. Perhaps the entire station was out to see the Kanzler’s…

“This looks like the mess hall. Breaching in three, two…”

There was a muffled blast that echoed over the comm, and then screaming chaos. Lambert’s brows furrowed – that had been too big a blast for a breaching charge…

“Man down, man down!”

“Contacts! Enemy contacts! They’re everywhere! Open fire!”

“There’s too many!”

The voices continued shouting in panic, not just from one section of the station, but all at once. The marine unit was engulfed in utter chaos at a pivotal moment. Lambert heard bursts of shooting in the background as the battle was joined.

“Fall back to Rally One! Contingency Bravo! Contingency Bravo, damn it!” Even Major Baugh sounded strained as the order finally came.

Lambert’s panicked fingers flicked over the console, switching back to the task group’s comms. “Sir, something’s wrong down there…”

He was interrupted by the exclamation of one of the other Kappa Squadron fighters. “Holy—Sir, something big’s headed this way!”

“I need more details than that, pilot!” Polstari snapped back.

But it was too late, as a Rheinland heavy cruiser burst from the lane and immediately began moving as it opened up on the Libertonian capitals. Another cruiser was right on its heels, followed by a battleship, and then another cruiser. Streams of green fire streaked from the dark, hulking shapes of the Rheinland ships, as the Libertonians struggled to react.

“Hostiles inbound! Fighters - break and attack!” Polstari’s voice was now tinged with alarm. “Captains – execute Defense Plan Echo!”

The composure of the task group’s captains was admirable as they maneuvered into formation and began returning blue fire of their own – just as a second Rheinland Battleship emerged from the lane and began spewing Wraiths from its bays.

Lambert followed Peterson as he whipped his Guardian around and headed back for the fray, as the first friendlies began to vanish from his sensors amid screaming chaos.

RE: From Darkness - Manticore - 12-03-2013

LISA

Five minutes passed – five eternal minutes from Lisa’s perspective.

JADE had sliced into the ship’s systems with her usual efficiency, once James had – somehow – made it to the mainframe. But now his vitals were peaking dangerously as he struggled to hold position at the airlock.

The Gull – now under JADE’s control – was bleeding altitude as fast as was reasonably safe, and Lisa had guided the Venture down right alongside it. In forty seconds, both ships would touch down at the prepared landing zone. Lisa grabbed her headset, keying it to speak to JADE directly, and leapt from the pilot’s seat.

“JADE, I want you to open James’s airlock on my mark!”

She sprung for the closest exit, snatching up one of the assault rifles they’d lifted from the Junkers as she ran. A blast of frigid air buffeted her as soon as she opened the exit hatch, and snow crunched beneath her feet as she jumped down into a pristine alpine clearing. Wayfarer sat parked nearby, but Lisa’s gaze was focused on the Gull in the process of touching down twenty meters in front of her under JADE’s steady guidance. Looking up, she quickly ran the ship’s schematic through her memory and identified the exit hatch for James’s airlock, right along the bottom edge of the hull.

She was already in motion, lining herself up as the ship settled into the snow-covered surface. She keyed her comm again as she awkwardly loped through the shin-deep snow. “Now, JADE! Now!”

Both twin doors of the airlock hissed open, and she leapt through without hesitation. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she spotted James on her left, and instinctively squeezed a burst of wild, automatic fire further into the ship’s interior. There was no immediate response, but she heard the sound of distant gunfire echoing back down the hall. That likely meant that Rob and company had already made their entrance.

She turned back to James, only now seeing that he was leaning against the wall, in obvious pain. Punctures marred the glass-like surface of his armor, and Lisa saw his blood leaking through in several places. He still defiantly held his pistol in his right hand, and a rifle lay discarded on the steel floor nearby.

“James!” she shouted. “I’m here!”

His head turned toward her, face still covered by the fearsome-looking helmet. Through it, he mumbled something she couldn’t quite understand. Knowing him, he was probably chiding her for taking so long.

She fired another wild burst, then slapped him on the shoulder and jerked her thumb towards the open hatch behind her. He hesitated a moment, then slumped back towards it. Lisa kept shooting, even though there still hadn’t been any direct return fire. The echos of gunfire were growing louder – she hoped Rob would be able to manage clearing the ship without James’s help.

She heard the distinctive crunch of snow as James landed outside, and took that as her cue to follow. Lowering the gun, she whirled and leapt out of the hatch behind her, landing on her knees in a spray of snow.

Pulling herself up, she saw James crouched beside her, on hands and knees. Wordlessly, she grabbed his elbow and helped him to his feet, dragging him awkwardly towards the Wayfarer. He stumbled forward, lurching left and right as he walked but managing to keep his feet.

She stayed with him, helping him to his feet when he fell, and tried not to think about the trail of red smears he left on the snow behind them. When Wayfarer’s bulk appeared before them at last, Lisa was relieved to see Floretta, the young woman who had been introduced to them as the ship’s doctor, running down the ramp with a red bag in her hand.

The doctor stopped in front of James, kneeling to inspect him. “Oh dear, he’s lost a lot of blood,” she said, her lilting accent expressing genuine compassion.

Lisa nodded, unsure of what to say. The young doctor’s big blue eyes flashed to Lisa for a moment. “Help me get him inside.”

Lisa grabbed James’s elbow again, helping him to his feet. His head now hung limp, flopping from side to side as they walked him up the ramp and into the comparatively warm cargo hold of the freelancer ship.

“It’s okay James, you’re safe now,” Lisa said, quietly.