Golden Gambit - The Story of Checkmate

The Dublin system, known for its lawlessness, and its control wrested by criminals from Bretonian hands some years back, saw a returning face, one that the criminal underworld wasn't used to seeing in some time. Lisheen Logistics Depot, a small station established by one of BMM's more aggressive subsidiaries, Galway Frontiers, sits in the heart of the system. The station began choking off the only exit from Dublin, and the precious Gold Fields that littered the system. The Mollys, who see gold as their literal lifeline, and their allies, who remain bankrolled by them, were desperate to free the proverbial arm around their necks, and launched a large-scale offensive to remove the small station. Over the last few days, both sides had taken significant losses, and reinforcements seemed endless. Robotic machinery and engineers whirred and crashed about the place, doing their best to patch up any potential points of failure, should the station come under direct fire. Steel girders criss-crossed the ceiling in such a chaotic fashion that you'd wonder how the station was holding itself together. But nonetheless, it was buzzing with activity, like an angry hornet's nest.

The BMM saw this as a ripe opportunity, should they be able to defend their newly gained territory, To ensure this, they had hired the Aegis Initiative, whose name alone was enough to instill fear into the hearts of those unfortunate enough to have contracts on their heads. Additionally, large numbers of the Armed Forces saw reassignment to Dublin. This was a last throw of the dice for Bretonia, whose gold reserves were quickly depleting. Financial markets were in turmoil across the colonies as the waning Gold reserves began to show signs of drying up totally.

The operational docking bays were packed with fightercraft. Some of them escorts of the company who owned the installation, Galway Frontiers, others coming from the ranks of the Bounty Hunters and the Bretonian Armed Forces. Pilots could be seen working on their ships, making emergency repairs and restocking on munitions, which had started to run scarce on the small station. Logistics hangers were in constant motion, ushering new transports full of materials to be delivered into the station on an ongoing basis. The sirens that marked the arrival of yet another transport echoed through the metallic chambers. Not much in the way of soundproofing had been installed yet, and the inhabitants of Lisheen fell under a barrage of wailing sirens 24-hours-a-day.

An emergency medical center was established in the center of the station, where combatants could patch up their wounds, and little else. There was no room for any sort of major medical equipment. Basic first-aid was all that the little station was capable of. Cots were lined with the wounded, either shell-shocked from the heat of battle, unconscious from emergency ejections, or suffering from third-degree burns. Emergency medics from the Armed Forces were working around the clock to keep their men up and running. The last battle had abruptly ended some hours before, and the final few patrols had made their way back to the station. Space was quickly filling up. No one had a bunk to themselves in times like these. Soldiers and security pilots crashed on the first soft ground they found, hoping to catch up on sleep, something most had been severely deprived of for days. In one of the makeshift bunks, a man lay on the bottom bunk, doing his best to get some shuteye after yet another day of carnage.

Checkmate had been a bounty hunter for 10 odd years now. Originally coming from the Bretonian Intelligence wetwork, Checkmate made a name for himself within the smog clouds around Leeds, the debris fields within Cambridge, and the golden clouds of Dublin. One of the earlier members of the Aegis Initiative, Checkmate usually saw himself taking the cushier jobs, with less risk, and more pay than some of his fellow compatriots. He earned this through the efficiency of his work, but other opportunities arose. His recent assignment to Lisheen took him back to his early days, roughing it in installations like this one. For the tenth time that day, Checkmate really wondered what he was doing in such a God-forsaken station.

That is, until he checked his Neural-Net account. He had chalked up three kills earlier in the week, and the credits had just hit his account that morning. He was too pre-occupied with yet another skirmish to check before he had deployed. A 7-figure number showed in green on the screen, indicating a deposit had been made. Money like he had never seen. The new Gold Rush of Dublin had begun, and thankfully, the Initiative had the wherewithal to keep troops stationed close by the dead-end system. Although Checkmate was used to being put up in high-rise hotels on New London, he figured he could make due with the current situation. Of course, as long as the money kept rolling in.

He smiled to himself. A couple more paydays like this could signal an early retirement, or at least, he could work out of active wetwork with The Initiative and do something more quiet. Office-work was anathema to him, the mere thought of pushing paper in some shithole office was enough for him to ready his gear in the case of another rapid deployment. Soon enough, his eyelids got heavy, with the prospect of a respite from the chaos, before the Mollys and the money called his name again.

His counterpart and commander, Anastasia Focht, took the bunk across from his. Checkmate and Focht had both jumped at the opportunity to make the money out in Dublin, and Isaiah Steffen, their boss and CEO of the Initiative, didn't want to send anyone other than their very best to secure the contract. The two had been deployed across the entirety of Sirius over the last few years, making names for themselves both within the Guild and throughout the Colonies. Checkmate in his signature Hammerhead, and Focht in the Vela, a Liberty Gunboat acquired by Aegis as a gesture of good faith from Liberty. The two ships sat side-by-side in their respective docking bays, clearly showing the signs of combat. Scorch marks covered the ships like grotesque wounds, but the weapons found themselves cleaned meticulously after every outing. Aegis always ensured that ships were fully operational before being given back to their contractors. Their weaponry state-of-the-art, long-ago secure by contracts taken in the distant Omicrons. The Initiative covered all of this, of course, after the both of them had proven their worth to the board of directors, and the Guild at large.

Checkmate didn't even realize he fell asleep. After a few brief hours, he woke, feeling weary but somewhat rejuvenated. He could hear the commanding officers of Her Majesty's Armed Forces barking out orders, signaling that a new attack was forming on the horizon. Focht was still asleep in the bunk adjacent to him. Although they contracted with the Armed Forces, no one commanded them. They command themselves and work on their timetable.

Checkmate stretched his sore muscles and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He walked over to Focht and gently shook her awake.

"Get up, Vela," he said quietly. "Time to go to work." She looked up at him, almost in disbelief at the time. Then she nodded and began getting ready.

Getting their gear sorted quickly, the two of them stopped at the canteen, wolfed down a quick breakfast and headed to their ships. Reconnaissance pointed out some pockets of Molly forces already forming on the other side of the system. Checkmate took a look at his watch one last time. The watch was beautiful, a timeless piece, the leather worn over the years of use, and a small chess-piece in the face. The King, presumably. It had barely been 5 hours since he had docked after the last skirmish. But with imminent battle looming, the adrenaline started to flow through his veins. He took a look at himself in the reflective glass of his cockpit, and smiled briefly again at the prospect of more credits to be had. He looked across at Focht, and saw his own expression mirrored.

The two of them completed pre-launch checks, ensured all weaponry was properly calibrated, and that comms were clear between the two of them, as well as their allies.. Once their prep had been completed, the sirens indicating their docking bays were opening sounded. The two ships exited the infant station, back into Dublin for yet another battle.