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An Exile Interrupted - Manticore - 02-21-2013
The blood lodged in his throat was what finally brought him back.
He sputtered, coughing loudly as his throat demanded he clear the obstruction in order to breathe. The loud noise and the sharp pain as his chest constricted was what brought him back to his senses.
He lifted his head off the cold hard surface, gingerly bringing a hand to his face. He rubbed a flaky substance off his face and blinked his eyes open.
They were slow to focus, hindered by the dim purple light that was the only illumination in the room. He was disoriented for a long moment, unsure of where he was.
He gazed into the hazy purple light, and it slowly coalesced into a round shape. A purple planet, floating out in space and shining that faint light through the glass of a large station window. He glanced down at the hand before his face, realizing that the substance caked to his face had been dried blood. His entire body hurt, but he forced himself up and off the floor, glancing around at the room.
It was a simple living space, with the basic essentials but nothing else – the hallmark of a rental room aboard the many freeports in the Sirius sector. He stumbled to the bed, awkwardly on a hurt ankle, and sat down heavily.
Head in hands, he worked his mind through the mental exercises that were now practically routine. Blood and bruised knuckles – another fight, it seemed. What felt like a broken rib, and perhaps a mild concussion – he’d lost it, probably. And, of course, there was the familiar pounding headache and twisted stomach – another morning, another hangover.
How long had it been now? He wasn’t sure – it felt like it had been years, but in reality it had probably just been a few months. He couldn’t help himself – his mind floated back to memories of better days, before he’d lost everything. Before he’d lost –
No.
He refused to wander back down that familiar path. It would only serve to bring everything back to the surface, and he wanted to at least sober up a bit before returning to the bar.
His face tightened, drawing lines of agony across it as he struggled to think of something else – anything else, really.
He failed.
He saw something tiny and dear to him floating away into the great endless night of space.
Eyes of men who’d once looked to him with respect turned to disgust and revulsion as he watched, helpless.
A tall, striking woman with brown hair glared at him with eyes of steel as she pronounced judgment.
His own hands, gloved, reaching for the armed self-destruct sequence on his fighter, and his tears splashing against the console as he realized he didn’t even have the strength to end it himself…
He was abruptly broken out of his thoughts by a pounding on the door. Eyes still closed, he reached an arm over and slammed his hand onto the lock panel, opening the door to his room.
Loud footsteps into the room and a soft muttered string of cursing wafted to his ears, and he slowly forced his eyes open.
It was Ruben, of course. He was the station’s bartender, and an old acquaintance, from long before everything had gone to hell.
The bartender’s impressive string of rapid-fire cursing reached a crescendo and finally faded, and the balding, chubby man simply glared down in silence for a few minutes.
“Alright, you useless piece of filth… I’ve had enough. Your account’s empty once again, and this last little brawl of yours caused thousands of credits worth of damage. I’m done – I don’t give a Dragon’s left testicle who the hell you might’ve been once upon a time, you’re out of here! You hear me? You’re to be off this station within the hour!”
Ruben took in a deep breathe, and then coughed loudly. “You reek too – take a shower first. Oh, but first… there’s someone here to see you.”
The worthless man on the bed sighed, returning his face to his hands. He had nowhere left to go now… he didn’t even own a ship any longer.
He heard Ruben leave, and another set of footsteps sounded as another person entered the room. It was a woman’s voice, however, speaking this time.
“Daaaamn, so it really is you. Mind telling me what the hell you’re doing all the way out here in Yukon, Lieutenant James Lambert? And looking like absolute hell, to boot?”
The sound of his name brought his head up with a snap.
“Not Lieutenant anymore…” he growled in a low voice.
“Good,” the woman standing before him said. “I haven’t been Lieutenant Carmen in a long time either. It’s just Tanya now.”
Lambert grunted assent as he looked her over with weary eyes. She was still the tall, Amazonian beauty he remembered from the academy. He winced as he realized how much her face – sharp lines accentuating piercing blue eyes and framed by brown locks of hair – reminded him of a certain Admiral.
Those blue eyes narrowed now, in an obvious attempt to decipher what he was thinking about. Then, abruptly, she sighed and broke the silence.
“Well, you heard Ruben. Once he makes up his mind, there’s no changing it. Time for us to get you off this Freeport.”
He frowned. “Us?”
She smiled slightly, her stern features softening for a brief moment. “You’ll see.”
RE: An Exile Interrupted - Manticore - 02-27-2013
An hour later, Lambert had showered, changed to a slightly less grungy set of clothes, and received some basic medical treatment. All in all, he was feeling better, at least on the surface. But inside, he still felt all the pain, along with a healthy dose of wariness towards Tanya’s sudden appearance.
She stepped back into the room at that moment, her bright blue eyes glowing with a subtle amusement.
“Are you finished getting ready yet, princess? You sure move slower than you used to…” she grinned at him, but Lambert just shot her a look and stood up.
“Where are we going, again?” he asked, still concerned about her true intentions.
She shrugged with a hint of playfulness. “Look, I promise I’m not planning to abduct you or anything – but Ruben was pretty clear. Now, do you want to get off this hunk of junk, or what?”
He sighed, inwardly accepting the fact that he had no other options at this particular moment.
“Fine,” he said with weariness as he stood. “Let’s go.”
“Don’t you need to bring anything? You won’t be coming back here anytime soon.”
His face twisted into a grimace. “No. Everything’s gone now.” The only thing he still owned that was worth keeping was in his pocket.
She gave him a long look, then shrugged. “Alright... follow me.”
They exited the room that had been his home for the last month, and Lambert didn’t even think about looking back.
RE: An Exile Interrupted - Manticore - 03-21-2013
“This is your ship?” Lambert growled with a healthy dose of surprise.
Tanya chuckled softly. “Everyone reacts like that. Hell, I did myself, back when I first saw the thing.”
She glanced over at him, his battered features illuminated by the soft purple light of the glowing planet that provided the backdrop for his windowed view of the Wayfarer, moored with the station.
He was right in a way, though she’d never be willing to admit it to anyone. The aged original-model Hathor gunboat floating out there in space was judged to be a hunk of space junk by most who encountered it and the exterior certainly fit the part. The golden-bronze hull was a network of dents, scrapes, and scratches – each telling the story of a pitched battle or unfortunate piloting error. Tanya, in her seven months as a part of the crew, had witnessed a fair share of both kinds, in fact.
The Wayfarer’s ugliness didn’t stop at the surface, either. A scan of the ship’s power signature would reveal a plethora of regular surge points, rogue capacitors, and breached containment fields that dotted the ship’s signature with irregular readings. The interior was a similar story save that the crew actually did work hard to maintain the inside of their little home. Thus it was tolerable, though only slightly prettier than the ship’s battered exterior.
But that interior included more than a few surprises – several of whom Lambert would be meeting shortly.
Tanya cleared her throat, the sound bringing them both out of their separate reveries, and she nodded to him. “Let’s get aboard.”
He sighed and followed her aboard the automated shuttle. It was a short ride across to the ship herself, and they took it in contemplative silence – Lambert staring at the floor and Tanya staring out into the vast emptiness of space.
The shuttle settled into the docking hatch with a soft shudder, and the hatch quickly cycled and then opened. They were greeted by a smoky corridor and the echoing voice of a man spitting rapid fire curses with a thinly-veiled fury.
Tanya confidently crossed the threshold of her home, Lambert trailing along with an uncertainty that reminded her – strangely – of a lost puppy. The cursing echoed from inside a space in the adjoining wall, where a large panel had been ripped away to reveal a small maintenance access way.
“That’s Lex in there,” Tanya said to Lambert without turning back towards him, “He’s the mechanic and before you ask – yes, he’s one of those never-happy types.”
Lambert grunted acknowledgement as they rounded a corner and Tanya nearly collided with a spry youth in his early twenties carrying several large tools.
“Damnit Gage, you just about killed me,” Tanya said, frustration evident in her voice. Lambert couldn’t help but notice Tanya’s disdain for the kid.
“Sorry about that, ma’am,” he said, voice bright with eager energy. “I was just off fetching Lex some tools to finally get that surge in frame five-beta patched up, and…”
“Fine, just be about it,” Tanya said, shooing him off. Once he was out of earshot, she started walking again, speaking up at the same time. “That’s Gage Joiner, the ship’s gunner when we end up in a fight and a general pain in my rear the rest of the time.”
She grunted with annoyance and led Lambert onto the ship’s bridge.
Even by the cramped standards of the gunboats Lambert had been aboard in the past, the Wayfarer’s bridge was tiny and dimly lit. There were only two actual consoles, along with an unassuming chair for the captain that had clearly been scrapped from another ship. The viewport stretching across the opposite wall was small and narrow and afforded a narrow field of view. A cursory glance at the electronics left one with the impression that they were aged and nearly obsolete. Clearly taking this thing into battle against anything heavier than a fighter would be a risky proposition.
Lambert had missed the two figures hunched over one of the consoles. His attention was drawn back to them as Tanya shuffled past him and walked over to nudge one of them in the ribs. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he realized it was a man. A rather tall man, in fact, with height to rival Lambert’s own.
This man accompanied Tanya back over to him, leaving the other figure – a young woman, Lambert realized – to continue the work. Lambert’s spine involuntarily straightened as he recognized the man’s posture. His mind snapped back… parade ground, pressed blues, Navy.
“Lambert, this is Rob Shaw. Wayfarer’s captain.” Tanya’s voice had a distinct note of respect in it.
He looked up into the man’s steely blue eyes, realizing that this man could pass for an older version of himself. The urge to salute was almost overwhelming, but instead Lambert managed a firm handshake.
“James, good to finally meet you,” his voice was rough, but carried with it a quiet confidence. “Glad we managed to track you down. The Navy’s castoffs are always welcome aboard my ship.”
“Thank you… sir,” he stammered, suddenly overcome with an urge to be someplace else.
Rob cocked his head a bit, not expecting the honorific. “None of that now. I know those bastards trained you well, but we’re much more casual around here. It’s just ‘Rob’, James. You hear?”
Lambert nodded, suddenly feeling more at ease. His spine slowly relaxed.
“That’s better,” Rob said, smiling. “Now, go make yourself at home while I finish up with Sparrow’s console over there, and then you, me, and Tanya are gonna sit down and have a nice little talk. Sound good?”
“Of course,” Lambert said, looking to Tanya questioningly.
“I’ll show you to your quarters, Lambert,” she said, gesturing for him to follow her back off the bridge.
RE: An Exile Interrupted - Manticore - 05-20-2013
Lambert had been aboard the Wayfarer for several long days now, and honestly it felt like it had been much longer. He had rapidly acclimated to the pace of the ship’s activities and quickly learned the various quirks of her crew. Tanya was the only one he’d known coming aboard, but he quickly came to respect Rob after their lengthy talk on the day of his arrival. Wayfarer’s captain had been respectful, but his calm confidence had quickly pulled the entire truth from Lambert. Well… most of it, anyways.
Lambert hadn’t breathed a word of it to anyone else aboard the ship, including Tanya, who remained quietly curious about his recent past. But to Rob he’d told the entire story of the past several weeks.
Had it only been that long since it had all begun? It seemed like a lifetime ago.
Rob had heard it all – the encounter with the Nomad monster that had started the nightmare, Pita’s disappearance and note, his panic as he abandoned his post to go look for her. And then, of course, his formal reprimand – the sharp disappointment on the faces of the officers he’d come to respect so deeply had been a knife twisting in his gut.
Then the blur of drinking, anger, and bloodied fists after he’d just… given up. Once again, he had ruined everything. This time, would he be able to escape his past?
He’d almost asked Rob about that, but had stopped himself, the words withering on his tongue. The man had already done enough for him, and just being aboard the Wayfarer reminded Lambert of everything he’d loved about Navy life in the first place. The sense of purpose, the structure, the mutual respect of the officers and crew… he wasn’t quite ready to give all that up. Rob had encouraged Lambert, telling him that he would gladly accept him into their ship’s family… or they would take him back to Liberty if that was what he really wanted.
Lambert had been considering everything for days now. He wasn’t even sure if the Navy would take him back at this point. At best, he expected to be demoted. Hell, they could technically call him up on a court-martial without batting an eye.
The Wayfarer was a tantalizing option. The ship crossed the sector at Rob’s whim, and the simple but effective gunboat loadout ensured constant protection and the freedom to handle most any sort of job that might be thrown their way. He’d met the entire crew now, and knew he’d be able to at least get along with each of them. In addition to Rob, Tanya, Gage, and Lex, there were three others. Kouta was perhaps the least likeable on the surface, but the Kusari hired strongman mostly kept to himself in his own sullen, silent manner. Sparrow was the name of the pilot, a young woman who had grown up on Freeport 4, which was merely one system from where Lambert was born. She was fascinated with Lambert’s tales of military life, and he found her lighthearted manner and carefree spirit refreshing. Finally was the ship’s doctor, a woman named Floretta Kingsley. She was upper-class Bretonian to the core, but rather intelligent and beautiful, if a little naïve. On the few occasions Lambert had encountered her, she was eager to tell him stories of the crew’s adventures – even routine bounty work utterly fascinated her.
Lambert didn’t really have a role on board the ship yet, but he tried to put himself to use. In the last few days, Wayfarer had crossed Bretonia and spent some time in the more lawless parts of the Omegas. Rob and Tanya were careful to keep their reputation balanced and mostly neutral, but they harbored a special hatred for Corsairs, and the ship had been hunting a notable Corsair commander for the last day. Lambert had found his knowledge of capital ship tactics was occasionally of use to Rob, even though the man was a masterful tactician himself. He’d also enjoyed learning from Gage and Sparrow about the ship’s weapon systems and flight controls, respectively. And, over the last day or so, he’d finally cornered Kouta and compared some hand-to-hand fighting techniques. Despite the man’s frosty exterior, Lambert sensed the man would be a loyal and valuable friend to have if they could find some common ground.
Otherwise, he’d mostly been catching up with the news from around Sirius and browsing through the ship’s log to combat boredom. At the moment, he was flipping through several entries from over a month ago in the log, detailing some adventures the crew had pursued on the fringes of Kusari space. Internally, however, he was a bit worried. The supply of cardamine doses he’d taken with him from Liberty had been dwindling, and now he was down to just a few days’ worth. He would have to determine a way to obtain more as soon as possible, but he’d kept his revolting addiction from the crew as the last small piece of pride he’d been able to cling to…
“This is the captain. Let’s get to combat stations, people. It’s time to make some money.”
Rob’s gruff voice echoed through the ship, interrupting Lambert’s thoughts. There was no general quarters alarm or repeated announcement, as there would have been on a Navy ship. Just the single announcement and the unstated expectation that everyone would do what they were supposed to.
Lambert rose, tossing aside the infopad he’d been reading from, and grabbed his holstered pistol off a high shelf before rushing out of the room.
Moments later, he was on the bridge. Rob was there, of course, with Tanya standing next to his chair. Sparrow was in her usual place, piloting the ship. Out the front window, Lambert didn’t recognize the system.
Rob glanced up as Lambert walked in. “Ah, Mr. Lambert. We’ve got a probable fix on our target, at last. He’s headed towards Cadiz with a couple wingmen, but we should be able to intercept him well short of there.”
Cadiz didn’t ring a bell. “Where are we, exactly?”
“Omega-5,” Rob said. “Battleground between the ‘Sairs and the Hessians. Dangerous system, not lacking in Corsairs to hunt.”
Lambert’s eyes widened. He’d heard of this system, but had never had a desire to visit. It was supposed to be littered with mines and traps from both sides of the conflict.
“Lambert,” Rob said, “go back and help Gage on the guns. We’re going to intercept these guys in just a few minutes. Only Titans, but they might get some backup out here before we can clean up and pull out.”
Lambert nodded, and ducked out of the bridge and made a quick right. The ship’s combat information center doubled as its weapons room. It was cramped – full of bright displays constantly updating the viewer on the ship’s status.
Gage was already there, nested into his chair and clearly already pulling up the targeting system. He glanced up as Lambert stepped in.
“Hey Lambert. Kouta’s down helping Lex, so I need you to run CIC. Can you transfer power around while I do the shooting?”
“Of course,” Lambert responded. Not his expertise, but he’d done similar work in his naval training and aboard the Mesa Verde at times. If the fight got out of hand, though, he’d be swamped trying to coordinate damage control and keep all the systems running.
He took a seat next to Gage and pulled up several datascreens. Making a few small shifts in power, he worked with the young man to get all the turrets powered up and tested while Sparrow deftly dodged debris and asteroids on the way in to the target.
RE: An Exile Interrupted - Manticore - 05-21-2013
“Bravo is coming around to port side high. Give me three, four, and six and take off one and two!” Gage instructed, shouting over the din. They were tied into a continuous audio/video feed to the bridge, and the constant updates from the entire crew came in a mad rush.
“Sparrow, bring us about twenty degrees to port!”
“Make it five degrees normal, as well!”
“Gage, light him up!”
“Gamma is coming back around on our stern!”
And Lambert was at the eye of the storm, with his finger on the beating heart of the Wayfarer. He knew the ship’s shields were holding strong, but that an unexpected partial loss in power – a faulty connection going out under the stress, not battle damage – had hampered much of the ship’s operations. It forced Lambert to continuously shuffle power around to different systems to make up the difference, but there was no room for error.
His fingers flew over the console in front of him, moving power out of the two turrets that Gage wasn’t using and bringing the others back online. Immediately they sprung to life, opening up on the Corsair fighter rapidly twisting around their port side. Gage scored a few direct hits – the kid was a good shot, alright – but couldn’t score the killing blow, and the pilot buzzed out of range, burning nanobots.
“Shifting to Gamma! Give me one and two back, plus five!”
Lambert shifted power around again, and Gage opened up on the fighter charging up their stern. The Wayfarer’s aft shields took several hits, but held strong in the face of the weak fighter weapons. Then Gage drew his bead, and Lambert grinned as Target Gamma disappeared from his scanners.
“Nice shot Gage!” he shouted over the brief cheer from the bridge.
“Thanks, but that’s not our man,” he replied, not hesitating to bask in the momentary glory of the kill. “I’m switching to Alpha. Give me one, three, four, six.”
Lambert shifted the power again, drawing a bit more from the shields to power the fourth turret.
“Lex! What’s the status on that connector?” Lambert shouted into his personal comm unit.
“Spawned mother of filth, I’m working on it! I need a few more flaming minutes!” Lex shouted back.
Lambert groaned. “Captain, Lex is still working on that coupler. Still at roughly fifty percent power capacity.”
Rob looked up and into the screen connecting them. “Keep me posted, and keep Gage shooting no matter what.”
Lambert glanced down at his scanner readings. He paused in disbelief, taking a second to refine and double-check the data.
“Captain, we have three new contacts inbound on heading two-oh-five. Preliminary scans indicate gunboat-class vessels, and IFF shows hostile. They’re twenty klicks out and closing!”
Rob looked down at the data and then cursed. “Gage, I need you to burn Target Alpha. Now!”
“He’s coming back around on starboard,” Gage said, voice taut with focus. “I need two, three, five, six!”
Lambert shifted power again, drawing further from the shields. Sparrow brought Wayfarer about, presenting Gage an optimal firing angle.
He landed one… two… three, four… five direct hits, and then Alpha vanished from the sensors.
“Target Alpha down!” Lambert exclaimed triumphantly.
“Status on those other bogies!” Rob demanded.
“They’re… inside of ten klicks and closing fast!”
“Sparrow, get us out of here! Mission Commission just wired our payment over.”
Lambert fed every ounce of power into the cruise engines, urging them to start faster.
“Five klicks! Four…”
The cruise engines kicked in, and the Wayfarer began accelerating rapidly.
“Three klicks! They’re inside extreme disruptor range…”
“Our velocities are even, Rob. Holding steady at three klicks.”
“They’re going to take the shot… Sparrow, be ready for evasives.”
A long moment passed, which seemed to stretch on for an eternity. It all depended on what type of disruptors the Corsairs had equipped. If they were long-range, they had a good chance of hitting Wayfarer even at this distance. But if they were of the nimble short-range variety, the disruptors would burn out long before reaching them.
“They dropped out of cruise! They’re taking the… three disruptors coming up astern!” Lambert exclaimed.
“Evasives, Sparrow,” Rob’s voice was cold, his face looked as if it were cut from ice. It was out of his hands now.
The young pilot hauled on the flight yoke in an intricate but strong pattern. Wayfarer obeyed, lurching about like a drunken dancer.
The disruptors closed rapidly, outpacing the cruise engines by a wide margin. Gage fired off countermeasures once they closed to attack range, hoping to draw one or two off with the false signatures.
One did take the bait, but the others stayed locked onto their target and kept charging at them unimpeded.
“Alright boys, let’s dance!” Sparrow suddenly exclaimed.
And then she took her maneuvers to another level that Lambert hadn’t thought was possible. The big gunboat danced around like a light fighter now, and Sparrow began to use the asteroids and debris to her advantage. She swerved around one asteroid, then grazed a piece of debris as she slipped underneath it. One disruptor couldn’t keep up, and wasted itself on the chunk of debris.
“Just one left!”
A bead of sweat ran down Lambert’s face as he watched his monitor in awe. Sparrow missed another piece of debris by less than half a meter, then rolled and dived rapidly. The engines screamed under the stress, but Lambert kept feeding them power.
“Sparrow!” Rob shouted as the final disruptor closed within fifty meters.
They rolled left, and then… somehow… Sparrow managed to slide underneath another asteroid. It happened so suddenly the disruptor’s computer couldn’t compensate, and it detonated on the side of the asteroid as Wayfarer slipped past.
“Yes!” Lambert cheered, echoed by triumphant sounds from Gage and the bridge.
The pursuing gunboats were now well behind them, and the scanners were clean otherwise.
“Well done, Sparrow!” Rob exclaimed. “Now let’s get out of here before anything else shows up. Head for Dresden via Omega-11. I think it’s time we got the latest news from Rheinland.”
The crew took a collective deep sigh, and then refocused on their new objective.