Silver walked up to the sleeping man, poking his head with the data-pad.“Yo. Get up. We're almost there.”

Jack's sleep hadn't been deep enough to keep him completely unaware about what was going on around himself, blaming on the nerves, being excited or rather unsure how he would explain the feeling. He opened his eyes swiftly and blinked a few times to get used to the light flooding the cargo bay. "Ah, eh. Sure." He simply answered, getting up from the seat.

Silver hid her data-pad under her robes and looked at Jack. Still the same after two years. A little skinny maybe. "Hmmm. Until we reach El Presidente, you will use the mask and the robe. Let the corsairs think you are one of the Trece. When we get alone with him, well, put your game face on, 'kay?"

Jack Darrow. Libertonian born, worked for DSE as a dock worker in the Pitt, or Pittsburgh for the locals. A long line of boring jobs followed until he ended up as escort pilot for one of the minor companies that Bowex held in Bretonia. Nothing else, just a mere man. "Might take some credit myself as Bowex dude who went to deploy that load of crap into Nuremberg's orbit back when the Bretonia Rheinland war was going on." He chuckled as he mentioned it, just to feel a bit relieved before reaching Crete.

"Now, Jacko. I got to hit Freeport One again, so after El Prez, you'll be all alone."

"I'm kinda bad at introducing myself." He replied, implying he'd at least want Silver's brief support there.

"I'll be there, no worries. But after that.. Well.. I really have to go to Freeport One. The frickin' station can't run without the new administrator, can't it?" Silver grinned and lit up a cigar.

"Otherwise I don't know why we'd have removed the previous one."

"I asked for a favor, Genine asked for one back." Silver replied with a soft voice. "She wanted out of the whole Freeport, CoF, the whole schbang. I gave her that." He began to walk in little steps around the cargo bay, willing to arrive already. "Fair enough." The gunboat alarms flared, indicating a system jump. The wave of vertigo was fast, but still somewhat dizzying. Silver walked to one of the small hatches and peered into it. Orange clouds. Black volcanic dust. And the sight of a weapon platform gun barrel trailing the ship.

"We're in Gamma."The ship initiated it's cruise engines and Silver turned back from the hatch. Thirty minutes later, the gunboat was finally landing in Crete. As the cargo bay doors opened, Silver and Jack got their masks up and started to walk out, where a full detachment of guards stood in attention. As Silver placed her first foot in Crete's soil, all of them bowed and started to pray to Santa Muerte. Silver stopped on her tracks and Jack could swear he heard her sigh.

Another day in hot Crete. The sun, the air and the floor were hot. And Silver resumed her walk once again, signaling Jack. He merely followed Silver closely, while he glanced slowly around himself, contemplating the Corsair architecture in such harsh conditioned planet.

Children and women started to stalk them. One of them ran to Silver and started to ask for help to "Santa Muerte". A small girl. A skinny little rat with big eyes and dirt all over her face and body. Silver kneeled at the side of the little girl and started to whisper in spanish to her. Her mother, who probably didn't saw it was her child who was with Santa Muerte, screamed. With a fast move, Silver placed her hand on top of the child's head. The crowd that was gathering, clearly tensed. She removed her hand and a small credit chip sat on top of the girls head, who grabbed it with both hands and smiled to Silver.
"For food, you got that? And don't worry. You won't die so soon."

The small child smiled and nodded, running happily to her mother. One of the men in the crowd grabbed the small child to try to relieve her from the credit chip. The small child squirmed and when finally the man had the chip in his hands, he raised it up to see it clearly. And got his face punched by a very pissed off Silver. The credit chip fell into her hand, who then gaved it to the small kid.N ow, she looked at the ragged man, with very few teeth. "Now you.. Well.. Your time is up."

The man started to run, down the street, while grabbing his nose. Pushing people aside in the crowd and almost falling. One of Los Trece was stopped, waiting for the man to come, in the middle of the crowd. As he reached the Trece's position, he went against it. And found himself with a blade stuck in his heart. The crowd fled, screaming. And Silver stood, looking at the man, now crumbling down to the floor alongside his blood, meters away and returned to her walk to the Palacio. A hover car awaited them. A man, military, for certain due to the uniform, kept his head bowed and the car door opened. Silver entered before Jack. And just as he entered the car, two Los Trece entered the car as well. The door shut and the car started to hover to its destination. The full city view of the Valencia Space Port was shown off through the windows.

Jack took a peek at the urbanized landscape below them, amazed at how the slow technological advancement of the Corsairs -compared to the 'civilized' Houses as he considered- didn't stop them from fielding a military strong enough to be able to cause troubles through the Omegas, Sigmas and Rheinland and Bretonia. "Oh well." He mumbled as gesture of amusement.

The hover car finally arrived at its destination, a palacio high in the mountains. At least 4 A-A guns were trailling the car as it came close and landed in what seemed a garden. Several guards stood in attention and opened the car door. Silver came out and started walking through the grass, not waiting for the guards or Jack. The two Trece rushed behind Silver before Jack could even notice she had left, also getting out seeking to stick close to his only friendly soul in that hostile place. "El Presidente is in his study, Santa Muerte.". Said one of the guards.

Silver nodded and picked up the pace. Two minutes in the house, through corridors and stairwells, always with guards everywhere, Silver, Jack and Los Trece arrived at the study hall door. The Trece leaned against the wall, right next to the guards, who gulped. "Time to make an entrance, ye?" Silver whispered to Jack. "Right after you." He replied confidently, although he still had the surprise factor stuck in his mind. Silver pushed open one of the doors and entered, removing her mask. El Presidente was there, having a huevo massage given by Rosita, while Lupe was giving his pedicure.

"Evenin', El Prez." She slowly and ever so gently bowed her head. "I bring forth news of Freeport One."

"Santa Muerte, what news do you have? Is that emissary delayed? don't tell me it got ... intercepted by our forces.'' El Presidente mumbled while enjoying his huevo massage.

"I am Sarah John-Kane." Silver replied, looking at some books in the immense library of the study. Jack just stood there. "What the faruuu****'' Presidente swore in this Tripoli dialect. Silver chuckled as she randomly picked a book written in old spanish and opened it.

''Diabla Roja ... I should have known you were involved in this. Who is that skinny niña you've brought along, and put that book down, you might hurt someone with it!'' Jack had been again observing the bizarre scene with a rather jaw-dropping gesture, hidden under the mask he was wearing. Silver closed the book and placed it back in the stand, chuckled and made a gesture to Jack to remove the mask. "You see.. I saw an opportunity. And i took it. I was the one that dropped the tip of BDM in the sector. And i was the one that tipped the BDM that a certain Libertonian was in the sector."

With a cat like grace, she walked to El Presidente's table and grabbed hold of one of his cigars, lighting it up. Jack removed his mask slowly, holding it in a hand while he made his best to cast a serious glance as he was trying to get the funny scene off his mind at the same time. "With the Freeport One under my control, now you have access to better food stores to your people.. And a direct and legal link to more assets." She exhaled the smoke, while walking back to her original position near the bookstand.

''Si, I see you've been useful for the empire once again... but what about the alleged sabotage?'' El Presidente asked with a excited voice. ''If this whole thing is staged by you diabla roja, we need to make sure there aren't any fingers pointing our way. The last Zoner conflicts left some... scars.'' he continued, he then snapped his fingers, gesturing his servants to leave the room. Silver smoked and looked at El Presidente with a grin.

"We just did some minor explosions to disguise a couple of situations. The actual sabotage wasn't even made by me or one of the Trece. And don't you worry. Los Trece removed any actual footage of us." She grabbed the book again and opened it. "To top that.. If any evidence do shows up.. The Administrator of Freeport One will take care of it."

El Presidente grinned as he pushed a button on his desk, a hologram appeared showing a map of different starsystems, as he pushed another button the grey colored Omega 3 system turned bright green around Freeport 1. ''Si Diabla Roja, you have done very well. Now would you mind explaining me who your companion is, and what he is doing here?'' He asked.

"Mister Darrow here... Came at me in a crucial part of the execution of my plan.. And managed to help. He wants to drop his previous life and become a 'sair." She started to read the book and Jack nodded, firmly. "He has some skills.. But.. I think he needs to be reborn again, don't ya think, Prez?"

Buonocore raised an eyebrow. ''One does not become Corsair... But, we could turn him into something else si. 'Have you ever heard of hostel Rhodes señor Darrow?'' El Presidente smiled playfully as he spoke out the words. "Negative, sir." He replied, surely having not taken any time to check on the locals' 'leisure' habits.

''You will like the place señor, its guests participate in a wide variety of activities, enjoy a wonderful cuisine and the view is spectacular.'' El Presidente then pushed the intercomm button and yelled over it. ''Guards, Santa Muerte dragged something into my office, please remove it to one of our special suites at Rhodes!''

Silver waved to Jack while reading, as he was being dragged away by the guards.
"I'll be sure to keep an eye on you, Mr. Darrow."

"Aye, aye." He replied, somewhat molested at the rudeness of the guards, now really wondering what that Rhodes place was about.

Rhodes was a gargantuan facility, although Jack had only reached to check the upper surface of the dry-dock shipyards where the gladiator-like matches took place. Normally the prisoners taken by the Corsairs across the Omegas or even brave enough Cretans dared to participate in such event, the former who believe they would earn their freedom, and the latter simply to satisfy their bloodlust and watching how the corpses of their opponents floated away, stuck inside a damaged space-suit. Of course Jack wouldn't be any exception as the foreigner he was.

“Come on!” Jack was repeatedly hit on the back of his neck, not thinking letting any complain out as it would only consume the few energies he had left. The food was indeed a luxury, and he had to earn the daily ration himself, most of times by spending four hours being continuosly smacked as he was taught in the hand-to-hand combat the hard way. The street gangs he had been living among during his childhood and the brawls he used to engage in back then were absolutely nothing compared to fight a Corsair or anybody else with a better idea than him about the matter. There was a huge difference, though: ‘Sairs were taught to kill, not to merely defend themselves, as Jack did back then.

Bruises and blood spots under his skin became a common sight. The firsts days he wasn’t able to get up from the mattress, the ‘only’ furniture in the cell he had been thrown into. However, he quickly understood that any signal of surrender would mean no food, and starving wasn’t precisely what Jack wanted to suffer in that hostile and unknown place. It didn’t matter anymore how long it would take Machete to beat him in combat until Jack was luckily able to release a punch straight onto the Corsair’s cheek, just to meet a slap followed by a “Try better tomorrow, gringo.”

None of the Corsairs could exactly say how Jack always managed to gather strength to carry on with the “training”, but their curiosity didn’t go beyond that as they actually enjoyed having a punching bag which offered them a challenge sometimes. Aside from the seed of hatred silently growing inside him, Jack was becoming stronger as days passed in that hellhole, perhaps not physically, but mentally.

“Not yet.” He often mumbled to himself.

Jack felt resentful as he noticed how he so far proved to be a mere toy for the Corsairs at Rhodes, eventually seeing Alonzo as some kind of savior. He not only fed him properly, but also took Jack to Crete, which now looked very different compared to the last time he was there, nearly two weeks ago. It was still a barren planet and even the toxic air of Leeds would be a gift from the gods too, everything but the hell of Rhodes.

Despite the more favorable odds, the Corsairs at Crete were obviously as tough as the ones in the shipyard, not stopping Jack from earning yet another bruise in the cheeks. As more days passed locked in that facility in the middle of the desert, he became more and more convinced that he had only made a bad decision. Strength wasn’t to be earned through endless smacking, kicking and torture, and he was so sure about it that just when one of Alonzo’s guys in training was about to deliver a last punch onto his stomach, Jack raised his hand and backed off from the combat ring. “I… I give up.”

Surrendering still meant a kick in the rear to get him out of Alonzo’s sight, which he thanked with a malicious glance, earning him a last slap before being left alone in whichever desert of Crete the facility was located in. The walking trip to Valencia could roughly take seven days, but his calculations were made without adding the fact he would have a vast barren between Alonzo’s place and the city.

He was given nothing aside from decent clothing -‘decent’ according to the locals-, so his wandering through the desert didn’t take him more than nine hours before Silver managed to find him at midnight, nestled in between the rocks and gulping down the last bit of water he had.

Jack already owed a lot to Silver, and after that event he felt his life would really be attached to her in the afterlife, for she was the Holy Death. Where could be his strength tested now, but at the same time have the Corsair Empire benefit from it? First-line ‘trenches’ in the Omega battlefronts. Corsairs surely mocked him. “I’d pray for my life if I were you, forastero.”

Silver, or Santa Muerte as she was known in Crete, walked through Barcelona, her favorite Crete city. The architecture was almost schizo, in a corner, you could hear a whore plying her trade, the cafeterías and bars were always full and alive. The whole city was alive.
In need to get balanced.
But she wasn't here for that. Clad in a Trece cloak with a silver mask on, most people avoided her, while some asked for her blessing. Making her loose time as much as she gained.

But still, she arrived at the Huevos Pretos bar. A name that made her chuckle when she got in.
The doorman almost fainted when he saw her, and gave way into the bar for her.
She sat and asked for the strongest drink in the house. And she got it. Black Devil's juice, a somewhat rare distilled juice of a very rare cactus that grows in the deserts of Crete. Old. At least 20 or 30 years from the way it gripped the glass. She removed the mask to drink it, and suddenly, mass panic formed, as all the customers thought someone was about to die, since Santa Muerte was there. People ran to the door, others jumped the counter and hid behind it, and a few ones threw themselves to the floor, praying to Santa Muerte. While chuckling at the display of fear, she gulped the almost glue like black substance and felt it ooze down her throat. Burning everything on the way. Like a kick to the stomach, she felt alive for a couple of seconds. Not even two minutes later, a four-man group entered the bar and looked at the displayed scene of chaos all around.
One of them smirked and walked right into Silver's booth.
"Eh, Santa Muerte, you sure know how to scare people away."

She raised an eyebrow and sighed.
Silver, as a person, didn't really hated this kind of person. A pig, willing to kill, maim and rape for fun and fame. Nothing else. The piracy he committed with his gang was just an excuse to further fuel his latent needs to give pain and to feed his ego.

She didn't hated, but she didn't loved it either.

"I am in the scary business, if you recall, boyo." Her reply was short.

"I got a target for you. Something real juicy. You interested?"

"Always, juicy senorita."
He leered at her, with a raw, almost palpable desire to get her into her thighs.

"A transport, heading to Leeds from Omega-3. It departs from Freeport One. IFF is Bowex, ID is Brown Racoon. Inside there's a coffin. Inside the coffin lays the body of Steve Holloway, former Mando Consul. Get that down here to Crete to display that body, so we can give more hope to the peopl-" He abruptly interrupted her.

"Can i kill the rest?"
Silver sighed and replied.
"Let it be the last time you interrupt me with a stupid question, boyo. And yes. I don't care. Just get the body down here and put it on display in Santo Carnero's square. You'll be payed 3 million credits for that job."

The man nodded. Three million credits was a lot of cash. But the want to kill was even bigger, so he could be more famous.
"Si si, it's a deal."

He replied and put his hand to shake Silver's. She grabbed the glass where a residual bit of Black Devil's was still.
She dropped it onto his hand, where it started burning the skin. The man yelped in pain and jumped out of his seat.

"You got 20 hours before departure. I suggest you skip the formalities and get the frackin' body fast."
Silver replied, smilling in a most devilish way.

The man kicked the feet of the table in anger, but the sound of three million credits and fame to be achieved was too big to avoid.
He walked out, quickly followed by his crew.

"This one.. will not be missed."
She whispered, while signaling for the check.
The owner of the bar, livid as he was in presence of a ghost, stuttered that it was on the house.
Silver grinned and got up.

"I bless this house for your generosity, senor. Be sure to keep them Devil juice stocked up. I'm sure i'll be returnin'."
The man gulped and nodded, starting to pray to Santa Muerte.
She did a quick blessing and soon, she was out again, walking the streets of Barcelona, deep in her thoughts.

He stopped counting the amount of times he jumped into the brawls that oftenly took part across the Omegas versus the Hessians. No matter whether the rest of Corsairs suddenly retreated to leave him alone against a Hessian wing or finished them altogether, the only concern of Jack was keeping the Titan that Silver gently granted him as unscratched as possible, a commitment that wasn’t actually going in the good path over the course of battles.

Freeport 5 became the only place that Jack could consider as safe haven outside Omicron Gamma while he was bearing the Corsair colors. Cadiz and Leon bases were a little far away from Silver’s hand, while oddly enough the core of the Corsair space, Crete and Tripoli, still would offer him some relief. Nevertheless, he soon realized that after the chance meeting with Aerelm at the Freeport in Omega 41, he would have to get a evasion plan ready as soon as possible, for probably the whole Imperio would rise bloodthirsty against him in case the plans of his fellow freelancer actually worked.

Jack couldn’t exactly tell to Silver if this “little” adventure among Corsairs did him any good regarding his initial purpose of unbinding himself from the people he knew before. Instead, he felt on the edge of incertitude, unable to describe what he felt for the people he cared about while another indescribable of hatred grew toward those who had hurt him. Would the void between him and the ‘Baroness’ become larger than he would have ever wished? For how long would the wounds caused by that Kusari girl stay open? These somewhat unexpected questions arose while he flew his Titan into the dangers of the Omegas, making him finally realize that he didn’t go there to become stronger physically, but to become a conscious person. But at what cost?

---

The Hammen Hole was oddly unpopulated at the time Jack dived into it. Slipping through both Corsair and Hessian ship wrecks, the scanner picked up an active contact. For first time since he became an usual corsair raider in Omega 5, Jack felt confused at the ship pattern that his scanner showed. Hessian IFF, for sure. Not a Sabre, but neither an Odin by the looks that he remembered.



He threw his Titan at the Odin-like craft, engaging in a duel that soon proved to be the hardest one he had gone through ever since he got Silver’s Titan on his hands. Plasma and laser shots were exchanged mercilessly as both ships dodged through nuclear mines and wrecks, ensuring that only one of them stayed as a nice wreck ornament forever. Jack couldn’t find a major advantage over the Hessian as the Rheinlander couldn’t do anything close either, turning into an equal fight that eventually ended with the Titan’s right wing blasted off due to an unfortunate mine. The Odin however had also taken substantial damages caused by the plasma guns, even though it could still stand still pouring laser shots on Jack’s Titan.

Cursing in every word that he learned in Spanish, he made his way out of the Hole toward Cadiz, still being tailed by the Hessian. Oddly enough -yet fortunately for him-, the Hessian pulled out as soon as the Titan crossed the weapon platforms line guarding the Corsair side of Omega 5. Paying little attention to the Hessian’s taunts, he guided the half wrecked Titan away from the battlefield. “What the hell was that ship?”