The Chronicles of Allan Quatermain

The Chronicles of Allan Quatermain - Printable Version

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The Chronicles of Allan Quatermain - Allan Quatermain - 10-05-2008

Prologue

Over the course of his varied career Allan Quatermain had done a bit of everything in the colony known as Liberty: military special forces, mercenary for hire, bounty hunting, tracking and retrieval of stolen valuables, infiltration of smuggling rings for LSF, and lately, commanding survey and assessment teams for Liberty corporations on high risk missions, usually outside the boundaries of Liberty space.

At 42 years old, Allan Quatermain was more than a match for most twenty-somethings. He couldn't catch a ball in any sports game to save his life, but he could put a burst of tachyon fire right into the cockpit of a fighter at 700 meters using his off hand trigger finger. What his aging body lacked in youthful vigor, his years of experience made up for with super-alloyed strength of will. On nearly every expedition he had to call for rest breaks so the younger members of the team could catch their breath, and Allan Quatermain would spend the time scouting ahead. His comrades on mission teams always came back whispering that "The Old Man never tires, breathes fast, or misses anything within sight." On numerous occasions, team members fresh out of university fraternities attempted to pull pranks on Quatermain , only to discover that he was two or three steps ahead of them.

One such impertinent pair, having heard the legends about Allan Quatermain and desiring to be the guys who finally pulled one over on "The Old Man", brought along a Kyushan Lightning Lizard for a late night prank. In the middle of the night, after a full day of mining surveys, the two crept through the camp to Quatermain's tent, silently disengaged the static field across the opening and released the lizard into his tent. They could barely contain their chuckles as they made their way back to their own shared tent. Lightning Lizards weren't dangerous, but being cold-blooded, they liked to snuggle up to heat sources, at which time they would release jarring amounts of static electricity from their hides. It was nothing that would cause injury, but surely enough to wake someone up from even the soundest sleep with an unrestrained shout.

The two plotters were just about at the limit of their ability to contain their laughter at the impending rude awakening, when they entered their tent to find Allan Quatermain soundly snoring away, draped across their two cots diagonally after having pulled them side by side. The plotters were far too smart and chagrined to dare to wake Allan Quatermain and ask for their tent back after having been outmaneuvered so thoroughly. The nearly freezing nightly temperatures on the winter side of the planet meant they had no choice but to occupy Allan Quatermain's vacated tent for the remainder of the night; not that they got much sleep with the Kyushan Lightning Lizard wanting to cuddle, then darting away and camouflaging itself every time one of them tried to evict it. Upon returning from the expedition, the pair told the story anyway, and Quatermain's reputation continued to grow.

The Chronicles of Allan Quartermain - Allan Quatermain - 10-08-2008

Part 1: Diamond in the Rough

Chapter 1

It's the seemingly simple jobs that always cause a man the most trouble.

From the encrypted data-stream synopsis, the assignment seemed to be a textbook Infiltration, Reconnoiter, & Extraction. Allan Quatermain had completed more of those than he cared to count.

He was promptly on time for his appointment with Interspace Commerce's Vice President for Scarce Product Procurement Joshua Crews in the Executive Lounge on Newark Station. Joshua Crews was smartly dressed in a Bretonian pin-striped suit that was quite obviously custom tailored on Planet New London. Quatermain's eye for detail noted that this one suit cost more than his entire previous year's pay. He was used to such ostentatious displays of arrogant wealth from his encounters with other Liberty corporate executives, and didn't let the waste of credits irritate him like it used to.

"I am so pleased to finally meet you, Mr. Quatermain ," opened Crews.

"Then you have me at a disadvantage, Mr. Crews, because you have obviously read my file, whereas I had never heard of you before receiving your invitation to this meeting," rejoined Quatermain . "I wasn't even aware that Interspace Commerce had a division dedicated to,I believe it was, 'Scarce Product Procurement'."

"It is a recent addition to our corporate structure, Mr. Quatermain , and I am newly promoted from another division. Due to the disruption of commerce that has been brought on by the Bretonian-Kusari conflict, Interspace Commerce and other Liberty firms are scrambling to find ways to stabilize their long-term production forecasts. It's merely another business development which is no doubt rather droll to a man of action such as yourself," stated Crews.

Quatermain made a surreptitious survey of Joshua Crews over the rim of his Sidewinder Fang. His instincts sensed that there was something just a tad out of place about this executive, but he couldn't put his finger on it just yet.

"Mr. Crews, I didn't have the understanding that Interspace Commerce was involved in the production end of its business dealings."

"But of course we are, Mr. Quatermain! Interspace Commerce has always been in the business of producing credits for our investors! Yes, we do that primarily by facilitating the shipping of goods from their point of production to their point of consumption, but the long history of business has demonstrated that the greatest amount of long-term earning stability is achieved by vertically integrating all aspects of a product's life-span: raw materials collection, processing, manufacturing, packaging, shipping, and retailing. This new division that I am heading up is our first tangible step down the road of vertically restructuring our business model."

Quatermain swallowed the last of his Sidewinder Fang. "Well you are the business man, so I suppose you would know better than I do how to make the most profit. All I know about it is that other corporations in Sirius aren't going to be overjoyed about Interspace Commerce expanding into production of any sort. Just what products do you fellas have in mind to start with?"

"The decision has been made to start with a product that has centuries of proven staying power, Mr. Quatermain : diamonds."

Quatermain could barely contain a scornful laugh.
"Diamonds! The bigwigs at Daumann and Republican Shipping are going to give birth to Hamburg Razorback swine when they catch wind of that! But how is Interspace Commerce going to pull this off? Nobody in Sirius with any taste or class wants diamonds mined from anywhere accept Rheinland, and all of those fields are totally controlled by Daumann."

"Daumann only controls the diamond fields that it is aware of, Mr. Quatermain . We are hiring you to survey a potential diamond find that no one in Rheinland knows anything about. Naturally, certain 'interests' in Rheinland will be willing to exert extraordinary pressures if our scheme is prematurely discovered. So we decided to call in an expert in covert activities to lead our expeditionary survey team. Are you up to it, Mr. Quatermain ? We are willing to pay you double the rate of our last job for us."

Allan Quatermain took one more long look at Joshua Crews. He still couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something odd that his instincts were pinging on. He looked down at the table, and saw that as his right hand had rested on the table, his index finger had curled into a long familiar position: the position it was in when his hand was wrapped around his fighter's weapons control stick.

He looked Joshua Crews dead in the eyes.

"When do I meet my team?"

The Chronicles of Allan Quartermain - Allan Quatermain - 01-04-2009

Chapter 2

For years the corporate interests in Sirius had spread credits around the colonies profusely in attempts to gain an advantage over their corporate rivals. Much of that generosity was directed at police and military officials who were in a position to "fail to inspect" certain cargo containers, or be exceptionally thorough with a corporation's commercial rivals. A side benefit of their "generosity" was that the corporations were as informed about the patrol movements and pirate interdiction efforts of the colonies' enforcement arms as the heads of state were themselves.

So when a Bretonian Armed Forces patrol, in an uncharacteristic show of force, followed a Corsair raider wing back into the Omega 5 system, certain corporate executives learned of the outcome at virtually the same time that Queen Carina did. Those executives placed a completely different evaluation on the information than the crown did, however.

During the ensuing furball, the Corsairs received reinforcements from Cadiz Base and drove the Bretonian Crusaders back. The Crusader pilots were unable to correctly plot the location of the Cambridge jump hole while attempting to evade hostile fire, and found themselves fleeing into a portion of Omega 5 that no Bretonian had ever emerged from before. The Corsair pursuit stopped as the Bretonians crossed over into the portion of the system under the titular control of the Red Hessians. The Corsairs assumed that the Red Hessians would finish off the heavily damaged Crusaders, if the Hessian minefield didn't do it first.

Fortunately for the Crusaders, only a lone Hessian was on patrol to greet them, but in their already damaged state they knew that they could not chance engaging even one fighter. Concluding that they had merely fled the frying pan to fall into the fire, the Crusaders banked hard to port and fled. After eluding their pursuer, the ragged Bretonian pilots began receiving distorted energy readings on their scopes: readings consistent with the presence of not just one, but multiple jump holes.

Knowing that they would never survive another encounter with either Corsairs or Red Hessians, the Bretonians chose the only option open to them: taking their chances on finding friendly space on the other side of one of these unknown jump holes. Locking on to the nearest anomaly, the Wing Commander gave the order to jump into the unknown.

The Chronicles of Allan Quartermain - Allan Quatermain - 01-04-2009

Chapter 3

Two weeks after the ill-fated incursion into Omega 5, Lieutenant Wayne Anderson, pilot of a Bretonian Armed Forces Crusader, was released into the custody of the Bretonian Armed Forces from a Rheinland Cruiser near a rendezvous point near the neutral site of Freeport 1 in the Omega 3 system.

Lt. Anderson was the sole survivor of the Crusader patrol that valiantly, but foolishly followed Corsair raiders back into the Omega 5 system.

The official missive from the Rheinland Ambassador to Bretonia stated merely that a Crusader pilot had been taken into Rheinland custody during an illegal and provocative Bretonian incursion into the Omega 11 system. Bretonian protestations that no such incursion had ever taken place fell on deaf ears since Rheinland had in its possession a pilot and fighter that had in fact been found in Omega 11.

Lt. Anderson was turned over to the Rheinland Military after receipt of an urgent dispatch from the Daumann operated Solarius Station, reporting that a heavily damaged Crusader had shouldered aside a Daumann transport and forcefully landed in the station's docking bay. Security officers had to physically extract the pilot from his fighter due to his extreme exhaustion and traumatic injuries sustained in an apparent firefight.

During the following two weeks, medical and military personnel alternately treated and interrogated Lt. Anderson in an attempt to both heal him and extract information from him about Bretonia's intentions in sending military craft into Omega 11. Lt. Anderson repeatedly maintained that he had no idea that he was in Omega 11 until informed so after his return to consciousness in the Solarius Station medical bay. Beyond that, he would say nothing to the Rheinlanders.

Once in Bretonian custody, Lt. Anderson steadfastly maintained to his superiors that in spite of two weeks of interrogation, he had divulged nothing to his Rheinland captors except his name, rank, serial number. He reported that after his patrol jumped out of Omega 5 they were engaged by strange fighter craft in an unknown system, and after losing the rest of his patrol to hostile and unrelenting fire, he desperately locked on to another jump hole that had just appeared on his scope. Following his emergence from the jump he skirted the outer side of an asteroid field, and dispatched desperate mayday calls to a distant space station. Receiving only wave offs in return, and running desperately low on oxygen and fuel, he had no option other than to force his way into the docking bay where he collapsed unconscious in his cockpit after landing.

The Bretonian Armed Forces immediately re-evaluated its chase policy with regard to Corsairs in the Grasmere Ice Cloud bordering Planet Cambridge, and shelved a one inch report on the incident deep into the official military archives at its headquarters.

However, in the corporate intelligence divisions throughout Sirius, the analysis of these events had only just begun.

The Chronicles of Allan Quartermain - Allan Quatermain - 01-04-2009

Chapter 4

Allan Quatermain hated reports and he despised the bureaucrats who wrote them. Unfortunately, working for a government or corporate paycheck required not only the reading of reports, but also writing them. Even after two decades to grow accustomed to them, Quatermain still felt a headache coming on every time he sat down at a desk. Most of the time, the reports he had to read were merely filled with meaningless drivel produced by some flunky who was desperately attempting to justify his position to his superiors. Quatermain never could understand how one justified his position by producing as many high-syllable words as possible on as many pages as possible to say what any normal person could communicate in one sentence. Occasionally, there was some miniscule tidbit in a report that proved to be invaluable to his team in the field. After so many years of hazardous field work, Quatermain always gave his full attention to the reports in front of him in the hopes of finding some detail that would save a life.

Confidential Material : Not for Dissemination without Prior Authorization
From:
~Interspace Commerce Intelligence Branch, Thaxter Michaelson, Director~
To:
~ Joshua Crews, Vice President for Scarce Product Procurement, Interspace Commerce~
Re: Potential Unclaimed Diamond Source
~Begin Report~
Sources in the Bretonian Armed Forces have transmitted to us the full report of their recent ill-fated Crusader patrol's discovery of an unknown jump hole in the Omega 5 system leading to a new star system. Analysis of the surviving Crusader's scanning logs yields information that has been ignored as superfluous by the Bretonian Armed Forces. The Crusader's scanners detected an unknown planet of large size in the new system. Spectral analysis of the planet and asteroids in the system by the Crusader's long range scanners indicates the presence of elements consistent with the existence of radioactive material originating from the star in Omega 11. Omega 11 is rich in diamond deposits that are not only extremely hazardous to mine, but are firmly under the control of Daumann Heavy Industries. The presence of the Omega 11 star's radioactive material in this new system suggests that substantial portions of material from Omega 11 has somehow escaped the Omega 11 system and fallen into the gravitational influence of the star in the newly discovered system. There is a distinct possibility that substantial diamond deposits from Omega 11 have traveled along with the radioactive material. Intelligence Branch recommends the immediate dispatch of a survey team to assess the presence of a mine-able diamond find in the new system. Due to the hostile presence of Red Hessians and Corsairs in Omega 5, the survey team should be heavily armed and led by an experienced military commander who specializes in stealth penetrations and extractions. Termination of all chance observers to the conduct of this mission is highly recommended. For future reference, Intelligence Branch has designated the newly discovered system as Omega 55.
~End Report~

The Chronicles of Allan Quartermain - Allan Quatermain - 01-04-2009

Chapter 5

Allan Quatermain glared at the chronometer on the navigation console as if his willpower alone could turn back the digits. He had spent the past four months relearning the ancient rule that for every bureaucrat who said "This can't wait" there were ten others saying "You will have to wait." At least Interspace Commerce had carried him on a salary the entire time instead of depreciating his end-payment for the mission by stretching it out interminably.

While Joshua Crews had intimated that Quatermain would be able to pick his own team for this mission, that too had turned out to be a misrepresentation. In fact, the team had been entirely chosen by some sort of magical Interspace Commerce screening process. But at least they were a capable group, and he had spent plenty of time training them personally, both in simulators, and out in the harsh back-country of Planet Pittsburgh. Several of the scientist types had tried to go over his head to complain to his superiors about having to spend days hiking around planet-side when they were going on a deep-space survey mission, but apparently their protests went unheeded because none of them ever produced a "get-out-of-jail-free-card" releasing them from the sessions.

Finally he was in space, though.

Omega 5 was quiet today, he noted for the seventh time. Since entering the pirate battle-ground, scanners hadn't picked up a single energy source apart from their own ship's engines, and the distant stars that glittered like jewels in space...like diamonds ready for the plucking, Quatermain noted, smiling wryly at the irony.

His poetic reverie was cut short by the pilot.

"Jump hole Omega555 coming into range now, Sir."

Quatermain glanced over the tactical console once more to satisfy himself that it was clear.

"Pilot, steer for the center of the anomaly."

He flicked a switch so that his voice rang through the entire ship.

"We are approaching the target jump hole now. ETA 2 minutes. This is it, people. We are about to make Interspace Commerce very wealthy, or we'll all have to find new jobs. Bridge out."

Allan Quatermain stared out the forward view-port, disdaining the holo-console in front of him. The youngsters on his teams always thought that this was one of his "old man" quirks, but he always preferred to see things with his own eyes rather than trust gadgets to show him what he needed to know. The anomaly pulsed with energy, like it was a living thing instead of a small rip in the fabric of space.

For the umpteenth time in his life, Allan Quatermain hoped that Ageira Technologies was only blustering about jump holes being dangerously unstable death traps. He gripped the crash handles of his command chair and gazed straight into the swirling cloud of energy as the ship entered the rift and slipped out of Omega 5 into the unknown.

The Chronicles of Allan Quartermain - Allan Quatermain - 01-04-2009

Chapter 6

Three hours after Allan Quatermain's Reconnaissance ship entered Omega 55, an Ageira Technologies Satellite in the Omega systems received a transmission on a distress frequency. The satellite immediately forwarded the transmission according to its imbedded routing codes to the inbox of Joshua Crews, Vice President for Scarce Product Procurement, Interspace Commerce.

///Priority Transmission\\\

///Infiltration and Retrieval Mission Codename : Midnight's End\\\

///transmission begins\\\

...uatermain of the IC vessel Resp...in th...O..a...5...em...ed...diate...stance...reques...doze...ostiles...no...scape...syst....ailing...tatus.
..ritical...omad...ponry...esca...ods...repea...

///transmission repeats\\\

Joshua Crews sat looking at the screen as the transmission repeated over and over again. After five minutes, he closed the data-stream and opened another program. The most secure and thorough electronic shredding algorithms in existence methodically dismantled all trace of the transmission.

He opened a comm channel.

"Sir, the mission was a total loss." He listened for moment.

"No, there is no possibility of survivors...Understood."

He closed the link, and left his office for the evening.

At a data terminal two system jumps away, a man sitting in shadows narrowed his eyes as he read a hacked intercept. He pressed a button that directly linked him to one of his most trusted operatives and spoke into his collar transmitter.

"Highwayman, I have an urgent task for you."

He closed the comm and read the intercept again.

The man in shadows smiled.

The Chronicles of Allan Quartermain - Allan Quatermain - 01-04-2009

Chapter 7

Two days later, Highwayman entered a plushly furnished library deep within the bowels of a non-descript asteroid located in one of the independent systems bordering the colonies. He halted in front of a stone-worked fireplace that flickered with flames fed from a hidden gas source, giving the illusion of a real wood fire...an unthinkable luxury in any residence in space not belonging to a corporate tycoon or royal despot. He held out a Lane Hacker data module to the man sitting in the shadows just beyond the fire's light.

"My mission was a success. I recovered one of the crew members, and after surveying the system I discovered wrecked ships that held several interesting weapons that we have never seen before." He paused as if hesitant to proceed. "I also recovered a Wild pilot and...an artifact."

The man in shadows tilted his head slightly and raised an eyebrow.

"Has the Wild been handed over for interogation?"

Highwayman nodded assent.

"An artifact? What sort of artifact?"

Highwayman almost appeared to be at a loss for words, an occurrence that was so extraordinary for its unlikelihood that the man in shadows momentarily stopped breathing until Highwayman spoke.

"My initial scans indicate a similarity to certain energy emanations that were first seen during the exploits of Edison Trent." He hesitated again and the man in shadows leaned forward expectantly. "It may have something to do with the Nomads."

The man in shadows' brows drew together in a frown.

"Interspace Commerce sends in a team to investigate a diamond vein, loses the team, attempts to eradicate all trace of the mission, and then you find a possible Nomad artifact..."

His elbows found the armrests of the chair from habit and his fingers steepled together to rest just under his chin.

"Direct our Specialists to conduct a thorough analysis of the 'artifact' as a top priority. Instruct them to treat it with extreme caution. I want a full spectrum of passive scans before proceeding further. If it is indeed a Nomad relic, then we have no idea what it might be capable of."

Highwayman nodded in assent and headed for the door. As he reached the threshold, he paused and looked back over his shoulder.

"We already know what the 'scrupulously reputable' Interspace Commerce is capable of doing in order to retrieve it."

The man in shadows nodded.

"That is what worries me."

He gazed into the flames for a long time before activating the data module to peruse the mission report.

"This Wild pilot has some explaining to do..."

The Chronicles of Allan Quartermain - Allan Quatermain - 01-05-2009

Chapter 8

Svengali paused outside the interrogation room. He had just spent the past 46.7 hours reducing the Wild pilot's resistance to zero only to be thwarted just as the prisoner reached the breaking point.

During the entire process advanced scanners had monitored the nomadic organism inside the pilot and Svengali had been able to view the specimen via digitally generated imagery compiled from the scans. No movement whatsoever had been detected up until the prisoner was about to break from the stress of mania interrogation. Svengali was able to read the strain evident in the prisoner's eyes, and knew he was only moments away from receiving the answers to his questions when the infestation suddenly "twitched" (he could think of no better term to describe it). The scans immediately detected the blood flowing out of the prisoner's major arteries into the surrounding tissues and the blood pressure alarm chimed moments later. Apparently, the nomad had severed all the pilot's major arteries simultaneously, preferring to kill its host rather than allow it to speak.

An autopsy was deemed too risky, given the unknown potential of the infestation to strike out. The pilot's body was irradiated without being moved from the interrogation room, until all signs of life were extinct. The remains were then atomized and the resulting particles ejected into space.

Svengali was now left only with the civilian recovered from the Omegas to answer his questions. He did not intend to be thwarted a second time over the same questions.

His focused look of determination gave way to a warm, inviting smile as he punched in the code to unlock the door and stepped inside the room.

The Chronicles of Allan Quartermain - Allan Quatermain - 01-05-2009

Chapter 9

The throbbing pain finally woke him.

Allan Quatermain's first conscious thought was, "That must have been some good time to give me this kind of hangover!" Then he remembered his mission...and the hostile weapons fire...and the incessant alarms from all over the ship...and the screams.

Gingerly he opened his eyes, not sure whether to expect to see the void of space spinning around his escape pod, or a Tachyon Pistol six inches from his eyeball. What he saw was far more shocking than either.

The room was lit in a soft light that somehow provided enough light to read by without blinding eyes that had been shut for an extended period. Crisp white sheets covered a bed set on a simple metal frame. The walls were an off-white color and typical of hospital rooms everywhere...except that Quatermain's practiced eye quickly noticed that these were stone walls.

His attention turned to the equipment surrounding the bed : an assortment of the usual, and not-so-usual medical devices for monitoring and assisting in the recuperation of patients. A single IV hung nearby and fed a liquid drip into his left arm.

The door opened and a smartly dressed man of middle years entered the room.

He wore a tailored jacket and pants of a distinctly antique fashion and sported very delicate spectacles perched on the end of his nose. The man smiled warmly.

"How good of you to rejoin the conscious among the living."

He spoke with just a hint of a lisp in a very precise and totally unplaceable accent. The rhythms of the man's speech was just barely off cadence and placed the accents on the words in slightly different places. Quatermain quickly decided that whoever the man was, he wasn't from Liberty or Kusari...perhaps from some backwater of Bretonia or Rheinland.

Quatermain tried to smile in return, but that only increased the throbbing in his head.

"So where exactly have I rejoined them?" he managed to say.

The odd man tilted his head to one side slightly.

"Among The Lane Hackers, of course. You don't think anyone else has the technological capability to extract you from where you were, do you?"

Quatermain's headache gave way marginally to shock, followed by a grudging grin.

"I suppose that I should have been a bigger believer in all that propaganda that they keep hacking into the commercial advertising."

"Indeed you should, Mr. Quatermain."

Quatermain's eyes narrowed slightly, before he relaxed back against the bed.

"Being Lane Hackers and experts at hacking, I suppose you already know all about me, then."

"Indeed we do. Except for one thing that intrigues us greatly."

"And what's that?"

Quatermain was fully relaxed now that he was fully into the game. If this odd man was lying about his identity and location, he would ferret it out in time. If he was telling the truth, then Quatermain was reasonably certain that his fate was taking a positive turn. The Lane Hackers weren't the Liberty Rogues, or even worse, those cannibals, after all.

"What were you doing in the Omegas, Mr. Quatermain?"