Jamal looked at his terminal in disbelief. A message from Sophie was sitting plain as day in his mailbox. The last unacounted for member of the old Slavers Union who was aware of his participation was not as dead as she was supposed to be. Dr. Jamal Nassif had met the morbid girl one night at one of his many charities fund raising galas. He had made a point to know the face and reputation of each and every ship captain within the Union.
Normally he would never tell any of those captains who he was or just how much of the Slavers Union he actually controlled, but this girl demanded his immediate attention. She was wanted by Rhineland authorities for a variety of crimes, not the least of which was running away from RM flight school with a stolen ship. If the media even caught her in their lens a data file would be sent to the intrested authorities, which would bring allot of attention onto Jamal that was not going to good for business.
The only way to politely get rid of this girl was to sneak her out the back into his private sloop and entertain her for the night. She was fascinated by his collection of preserved cardimine enhanced organs and spent the night quizzing him one the particulars of the preservation process. The morning after he had a conversation with her and had thought that he had made it very clear that she was never to come in contact with him again.
Whatever Sophie has gotten herself into has seemed to make her forget that conversation. The message itself was also evidence that she had no idea about the collapse of Slaver Union. Ever since his appointed figured head Seth Driscol got arrested all of the other slavers drifted into the wind, probably fearing that their old boss might rat on them. To the man’s credit he has yet to do so, but he also understands his place. Jamal could have the man killed at any time, something that Seth knows, and thankfully he also places a great deal of value upon his worthless life.
Jamal reached for a special device hidden inside his stapler and places it into the terminal. Executing the program loaded onto the interface Jamal deletes the message and any data line trail it might have left. Sophie is now in a desperate situation and is famous for becoming very confused. Right now she must be regarding him as a friend. One false word from her mouth and his cover reputation could come crashing down. This was a situation situation must be corrected, thankfully Jamal knows people who can handle such things.
Her new clothes were fashionable and elegant, though only storefront fare. Sophie Amelia Richthofen was no longer dressed like royalty, but just the same, when her rescuers walked through the door, they would be stunned.....
Well, when her visitors arrived, they were certainly stunned.
A confused girl, locked in a room, wasn't a particularly challenging assassination, and it was considered a great chance to test the newest trio of recruits. It had taken about three months to gain access to Bruchsal, after a week determining that it wasn't a Rhienlandish, nor junker, GMG, or zoner prison. First, they got scholarships at a private university on Hamburg, known for its Labour Party leanings. They'd taken just the right classes, and said the right things to the right professors. They'd even padded a few pockets, from place to place. One man, in particular, they'd gutted, to prove their dedication to the cause. They were on the fast track to meeting the Bruchsal elite, the movers and shakers, until, one day, they walked off the given path to a seminar on Bruchsal itself, wandered into a restricted area, murdered fourteen security personnel, and blew the door off of 'Amelia's' protected suite.
Inside, the girl had painted the teal walls red. Handprints on every surface, smears and droplets spread across the walls, the rug splotched with coagulated pools...The bed stiff and cracked from hardened blood. The girl herself was covered in old stains, scratches, and cuts. The skin on her left arm had been peeled back, and tubes stuck out of her major arteries, arching an inch above her skin from elbow to wrist...The muscles underneath had gone grey, dessicated and starving. Her lips were painted a putrid purple, and her teeth covered in ochre stains. The tub was half filled with pinkish water, and she wasn't breathing. If she had a heartbeat, they couldn't hear it.
Before they recovered from the sights, Bruchsal Fanatic Guardians, long briefed on what was going on in that room, stormed the suite, and filled each assassin with glass flechetes.
Their bodies were burned.
Sophie Amelia Richthofen was transferred to medical, and later dropped on New Berlin, drugged and unconsious.
Step, after step, after step. On each step, the ice cracked, and her feet settled lower, impacting on the cement. Each step, the ice shattered into minuscule shards, and a handful of needles dug a little deeper. Step after step. Across three Berlin districts, her skin stuck to ice, and layers peeled off. Droplets of her blood steamed and hissed, landed with tiny splashes. Her trail was marked in blood and flesh, frozen to the icy streets.
Three days after waking up under hail on New Berlin, Sophie lifted off the planet, aboard a bloodied camara freighter. There had been a fight, of course. Weapons discharges scarred the bulkheads, and gouges punctuated the halls. The cabins were strewn with stray limbs, and the heads stacked along the rear walls of the cockpit. Sophie lounged across the crash-couch, framed by decapitated heads, a barbarian queen.
This Camara is beautiful. And I know right where to keep it. Sophie's Second Gallery, room after room after room. The first room I've filled, so far, is the cockpit. The old crew, you see, I've stacked their heads along the walls. All along the walls, and pinned them to the bulkhead. I'd rather like to open visual comms with old Seth, sitting at the helm of this. OH! I might just visit Jamal!...wonder if he got my letter.
I've hidden it in Frankfurt, inside a sphere of very strange explosive mines.
Pirate Train, equipped with a minor armour upgrade, a capital class thruster, seven class 4 transport turrets, and an advanced transport shield.
Inside, the command deck and bunking deck have been slightly expanded, to include an extended medical bay, at the expense of the brig, and the bunkrooms have been modified into a single luxury suite.
The ship was picked up from Mull, and taken to Trafalgar, where Whipping Girl was emblazoned into its paneling, stark red, with the edges of the imprint silver.
Malta is never a problem...Just slip up to their docks, and land. Once they see you carrying cardamine out, they just ignore you...Liberty, on the other hand...
Houston's criminal element shifts quickly enough that if you've been out of the game for even a little time, all your contacts have wandered into the wrong alley and been mugged, and the operation has slipped into the hands of another gang, one more favored by the Rogues, during the takeover. Under such circumstances, it becomes very hard to find anyone trafficking in, as the law puts it, 'Human misery.' Of course, Sophie and Frank were experts at growing their own human misery.
It started, as all things do, with a vagrant. An elderly gentleman, sleeping in a shelter, who caught Frank's eye, and soon felt the knife. He was a scrawny, mangy, and slightly demented fellow, stinking of weeks or months of poor hygiene, wearing six layers of cast off clothing...Frank followed him to his shelter and, in the night, surgically removed the man's vocal chords, and then carried him back to the port in a duffel bag.
Sophie spent credits on a shop, opened a kitchen, then a shelter, which was promptly burned to the ground by a gang of street hoodlums. Sophie was moving in the wrong circles, pulling money from outside, upsetting a strong planetary Xeno movement. Things continued to go badly until Sophie received a call from a Rogue source, telling her to land in a clearing a hundred kilometers north of the docks.
In the clearing, at night, Sophie landed, activated the trawlers to move out a large number of gold bricks, and waited, dressed like a queen, while her bay was filled with anonymous white cubes.
Outgoing Transmission,
From Freeport 2, Sophie Richthofen.
Message Begins:
"Frank? Frank...Hi...when you get this..Uhm...
I'm on Freeport Two. Some Unioners brought me here, after I convinced them to not sell me to the ZAS...If you could get to the gallery in Frankfurt...pick up a PROMETHEUS...well, I'd really rather appreciate it. I've arranged for a new ship to be set up on freeport 11...and I'll need a ride."
Thirteen girls in red dresses, lined to either side. Thats twenty six, total. Organized from shortest to tallest, with the tallest behind me. Dresses will procede from a soft pink on the wings to a crimson red behind me.
The sloop must be coated in silver, 130 meteres in length, with those adorable hoverjets just along the edges. Dragons will be engraved along the rails, and the main thrust will be provided by rear slung plasma vents. Glass will mark our marriage. I need another borse, one for end of the sloop. Cain will oversee the vows.
It occurs to me that the girls may need to be tethered to their places, lest they try and escape.
I suspect the flowers will need to be frozen. They might remain in ice, as the ice will definately expand. By the end of it, I expect the Borse to be the only things still living, besides Frank, Cain, and I. The shuttles will arrive to either side of the sloop, and one will take Cain aboard. Frank and I will embark on the other. The Sloop will settle down in Arbor, the gangways will extend, and the borse will be released from their tether.
You are cordially invited to attend the Marriage Ceremony of Sophie Amelia Richthofen and Frank Davies, February second, 817 AS.
Address and Deliver to:
Dame Esther Carson, Sheffield Station
Rosaline, Temple of the Revenant
Michelle, {SU}Submissive.Mistress
Cain Sheppard, {SU}Utopia.II
Hans Krieger, Planet New Berlin
Weeks ago, I dropped a hold of cardamine in Hamburg space, just beyond the lane coming from the deep hole to Frankfurt, after being held up by Hans Krieger. What could I have done but drop it? Well, I could have fought him off, maybe. Snubnose against the girl, he'd novas, but he wouldn't have expected how I'd handle the girl..course, if I had the gallery, I'd do better.
Weeks ago, I dropped a hold of cardamine. I left Hamburg by the hudson gate, and came back in through the hole...Drifted back to Frankfurt. Its beautiful here, and I think the hole suits me. Krieger offered me something. Or, at least...I think he did. What he offered me...
I'm so alone.
Frank wasn't invited. But Esther would...like me? Maybe. I don't know...It could be a trap. Its always a trap. Sure, sure, maybe...
They'd put me in a cell. They'd accept me with open arms, just so long as I'd land and walk out in a controlled port...They'd do...something.
I don't know. He sent me something. Its just a sealed package...but...it could be a trap. Anything could be a trap. If I open up, open it up...can I deal with that? Most of all, do I want to?
I've been here for weeks....I'm running out of things, now. Soap. Cardamine, those little crackers. I'd really enjoy a crab. Not sure if I want to resupply. Not sure at all. Guess I'll open the package.