He woke slowly. He had conflicting memories in his head. The first thing, what he had thought was truth before, was that he had done LPI / LSF liaison for a year a while back. It had been a boring job that mostly entailed being a desk jockey. Now, he remembered being genetically modified to fight against Nomads, and fighting many missions. Several of which had been with Order ships. He remembered clearly now.
”We could never openly ally with them, it would be a public relations nightmare. We painted them as terrorists, which outlawed them to the farthest regions of space.”
The same man. He never had found out his name. Parts of his memory was missing, but he only assumed that after his service they couldn’t leave those kinds of memories in anyone with the potential to tell the public. He noticed that he was in the same bed, but the restraints lay to either side of the bed, undone. He sat up, rubbing his arms to get some feeling in them. It seemed the restraints had been taken off only very recently. Two guards with rifles at the ready stood to either side of the door. As he began to sat up, the rifles moved up, drawing a bead to his chest.
“At ease, men.” Aralie walked over from the far corner of the room, arms crossed across his chest. “Jason, it seems that the Nomad that was in you has been completely fought off. Now, I’d like an explanation, and I’d like it yesterday.”
And so Jason found himself telling Aralie how his memories had been wiped, and what he now remembered. He also told of what he had found on the Liberty cruiser, and what he had seen when the Nomad battleship came. There were blanks, but by the end Aralie was nodding his head slowly.
“Yes, it makes sense. Kyushu, you said? Yes. You have leave to go there, I suggest you do.” With that, he walked out with his two ghosts, who followed him like shadows. Jason was left alone, planning. First, he needed a new ship.
At the large landing bay on Monterrey, he found a new Sabre sitting on a pad. Once he had asked the head of storage where to get his ship, he had been processed and directed to this pad. Apparently Aralie had taken a personal interest in the ship he got. It was decked out with Kraken IIs, the Outcasts finest particle weapons. It had a cannonball missile launcher and an Inferno, the shield buster that was most effective against capital ships, but in a pinch could easily be wielded against fighters, though it took some skill. On the side was written in large, flowing script Cassandra II, not something that was mass produced. A man was putting up brushes with special paint that was used to decorate ships.
Hey, nice job. Howd you know to put that on there? Jason asked the balding man, who looked to be in his fifties.
He shrugged and gave a grin that was missing a few teeth. Da big man gave me da ordahs. Gathering up his supplies, he walked off and disappeared into the milling crowd, leaving Jason to stare wonderingly at his new ship. He shook himself, and climbed inside. Getting clearance to launch, he too the ship first to Magellan, then to Leeds via the jump hole near Mactan, then he swung around the system to the Tau 31 jump gate, where he got through with only minor difficulty. Minor being a few flights of Templars divided between chasing him down or fighting the new flight of Chimeras coming across the system.
On to the Tau 29 jump hole, where he came out near the Kyushu mining base. He cut across the system to Freeport Six, where he docked and considered how to get on the planet.
A few credits across the palm of a Zoner put him into a container that was about to be loaded onto a transport bound for Planet Kyushu. Cramped, like they all were, but it was the most effective way to get onto a hostile base. He was in there with nothing but two canisters of oxygen, the good stuff, and a few packets of emergency rations. Settling in for the ride, the hum of space travel without the comfort of the dampeners that made the living compartments feel comfortable overtook him. Soon a jump shattered the hum, a feeling that made his stomach lurch. Soon it settled again, as the ship came out the other side. Lulled with the repetitiveness of it, he was shocked when little pings started sounding. It didnt take him long to realize that that was weapons fire.
Cursing his luck, he did the only thing he could: wait, and hope that they didnt destroy his container. Soon the firing stopped, though it was obvious that the ship had been occupied. The course changed, and it settled in to cruise speed for a long time, before another jump. A little longer in cruise, and the ship stopped. He heard the loud popping sounds of the ship landing, suddenly going form 0g to however much the station was set to. Wracking his mind for what station fits the distance traveled, both to the jump hole and after the jump hole, he only came up with Ainu Depot, though the Hogosha base may fit the bill.
The cargo container detached from the ship, and by the large thud, Jason figured they had just released them all at once. Springing into action, he slammed the emergency open button that he always installed on the containers he stowed away in, drew his gun in one fluid motion (hard to do with such limited room) and slammed the lid off, rolling out from the side of the box. Outside he was greeted by an odd sight. Everyone on deck was a woman. They stared at him like he was some vagabond that had just tramped mud all through their house.
Apparently he had been taken to the Golden Chrysanthemum base, a radical faction dedicated to the overthrow of the Kusari government and the institution of a matriarchy. Jason had switched out of his Hellfire Legion flight suit into civilian Kusari clothes. He wouldn’t pass for being born there, but he could pass as living there. A few quick words and show of identification cleared him from being killed, or worse, being castrated and forced into some sort of twisted form of slavery. Well, that’s what Jason figured the other option was, but he didn’t voice that opinion. No need to give them ideas if they didn’t already have them.
He soon realized that they wouldn’t castrate him no matter what. More than a few young women were looking him up and down in a very appraising manner. All he did was shoot a small smile back at them. He was led deeper into the station by a double guard, two women that weren’t visibly armed. He never even pretended to under estimate them. He was quite aware that they would be heavily trained in the Kusari martial arts, a devastating form of combat. He had seen it, and fought it, on many occasions. He had taken more than a few bruises from it, but he never repeated the same mistake twice. He wouldn’t underestimate an unarmed woman again.
They led him to an office that opened up to reveal a room that had obviously seen a woman’s touch. Quite a few of them. Nothing out of place, everything pleasing to the eye, everything complimenting everything else. He took a seat positioned before the rather small desk, behind which was a diminutive woman of obvious Kusari descent. She said in a rather clipped accent:
“Mr. Moore, is it? Yes. Well, you popping out of a cargo pod is a most unusual thing, isn’t it? Mind explaining?”
“It’d be a rather long explanation, that I’m not entirely sure I can tell you right now.”
“Oh, but I insist,” she said, stepping out from behind the desk. She walked around it and stopped right in front of Jason, head cocked to the side as if considering a problem, and thinking of a way to overcome it.
Jason gave a dry croak of a chuckle, more a thing born of nervousness, instead of humor. “Umm… I didn’t catch you name?”
“And you weren’t supposed to. I do love a well-built man.” She now looked like she was measuring him with her eyes. He almost thought that she could tell him his clothing size and weight to an ounce. “I think this conversation would be more interesting in my chambers.” She gave a small nod of her head towards a door to Jason’s right. She grabbed his hand and forced him to his feet, no easy task with a man of Jason’s size. She then led him through the door.
Jason staggered out of the room, blood pouring from his side. He was lucky. Damn lucky. The knife she had drawn out of nowhere had missed an artery by about a centimeter. By the time the knife had gone into him, even shocked as he was, he had her by the throat and then a second later lobbed her across the room. Her head hit the wall hard and rebounded, and she had slumped to the floor, unconscious at the least. He winced. Both their shirts had come off before she drew the knife, and he wasnt used to women trying to kill him after the clothes came off. Usually it was before.
He had shrugged his shirt back on, and held his hand on the growing blotch of red that was staining his shirt. Limping down the halls of Ainu Depot, he quickly found the docking bay and the Drone freighter he had been in. It was unguarded, and he jumped into the cockpit, hacking the controls with ease; a skill he had learned among the Hackers. Slamming the afterburner and guns at the same time, the doors to the docking bay blew open with amazing pyrotechnics, the entire bay decompressing. Jason was glad there was nobody in there; he really didnt feel like killing innocent bystanders.
Accessing the nav-map, he flew to the Kyushu jump hole the ship had recently navigated on its trip to the base. He came out in a field of blue which scrambled the sensors, but not enough to hide that a huge planet was in front of him. He set a course for it, and within a few minutes broke free of the cloud. There was Planet Kyushu, as well as the next clue as to who was responsible for his set-up.
He walked past several seedy bars, dismissing them out of hand. He didn’t know why he did, but he knew they weren’t what he was looking for. Wearing a shirt he had rummaged from the transport, the bandage over his wound was hidden. The limp was still there, but not too noticeable. It looked like he was slightly dragging along one of his legs, and it actually looked pretty menacing. He passed another bar. The windows flashed a couple of times. Jason knew muzzle flashes when he saw them; this was definitely the rough part of town.
At the next bar, he stopped, and decided to enter. He pushed through the door, and his eyes scanned the dim room. As they adjusted to the lack of light, he walked over to the bar tender. There. His initial scan had missed a rather large Rheinlander in the back corner, huddled over his drink. He was so still he appeared to be part of the wood-work, but Jason took him to be the man he was looking for. Walking over the room, he slid into the bench the Rheinlander was sitting at, blocking him off.
He was about Jason’s size, with a few scars on his face and a broken nose. As Jason sidled up, the man looked up from his drink and gave a start.
“Listen man, I ain’t got the money,” he started in a thick drawl. Jason silenced him with a look.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked in a whisper.
The man’s eyes widened and he stammered that he did.
“Good. Now, someone told me to come here for some information, and I mean to get it.”
The Rheinlander leaned away from Jason, but after a threatening gesture, he spilled it. Apparently, he had been told that if Jason ever came to him, that he was supposed to point him to the bartender on Kyoto. Jason got up and moved for the exit of the bar without a word, cursing on the inside. The Dragons might be on friendly terms with the Hackers, but there was no way he could just fly up in that ship he had stolen and get onto their base.
A man sat behind a desk, the entire half of the room shrouded in shadows. Nothing was visible of him but a dim outline and his eyes, which seemed to catch the faint light and reflect it. The part of the room that was clearly visible was just an unremarkable office, except a man knelt before the desk, knees and fists on the floor. The man behind the desk spoke in a deep voice.
So, you have failed once again to kill Moore. Even after your grandiose promises that you had the best assassins in Sirius from every faction, still you fail. The twist to his mouth that spoke of distaste was obvious, even without seeing it.
The man on the floor stammered, I-Im sorry, mlord (all were required to call him by this archaic title) but it is its more difficult than we first thought. Everyone knew how well their master took failure. The man on the floor heard laughter from behind the desk.
Do you honestly think that a worm such as yourself would actually manage to kill Moore? No, you have played your role as well as can be expected. I never wanted Moore dead, and if one with such limited means as you could kill him, then he is of no use to me. Now go, you sniveling imbecile.
The man on the floor shakily rose up, and bowed before all but running from the room.
Supreme Command Aralie strode into the room with purpose. The head scientist on Monterrey greeted him with handshake and by pushing his glasses up his nose.
“I assume this is important? I have a thousand and one things that needed doing yesterday.” Aralie was a bit distracted.
“Oh, yes sir. I had noticed something weird with the scans on Major Moore.”
“The one who was just infected but fought it off?”
“Yes sir. There’s a slight anomaly here,” he said, pulling out a chart of Jason’s brain and pointed at a section that was colored in bright hues of blue and green, “that indicate something isn’t right. Now that isn’t incriminating in itself, he could’ve been hit in the head for all we know. However,” he interrupted by pulling a laminated paper off the messy desk he was standing next to and handing it to Aralie, “these numbers beg to differ. It took six different tests before I finally got to the crux of it. The Nomad’s still there, though nothing physical scans could locate. It’s more that the consciousness of the Nomad has taken residence in Jason’s head.”
Aralie cursed profanely, and then asked the doctor what the recommended course of action was.
“Call him in so I can run some more tests. It’s not like he’s a danger, the thing is just dormant. But if he comes into contact with Nomads? Who knows, the telepathy could bring it to the front.”
Aralie pulled a communicator out of his coat and told them to bring Moore in.
Jason walked for the exit of the bar, trying to plan his course of action. Deep in thought, he dismissed the Rheinlander as a threat: he seemed too scared to be one. Big mistake. Jason took a couple steps forward, and then heard a sound he’d never mistake. A sound that someone knew was the worst sound you wanted to hear. The sound of a gun cocking behind him. Cursing his inattentiveness, Jason moved and pivoted on his right foot, taking the shot that would have slammed him through the heart in his left arm. A numbing feeling washed over Jason’s arm, as if he’d just slammed his funny bone a couple dozen times. Only four feet separated Jason from the Rheinlander, who looked like a freak that took steroids. He was a full foot taller than Jason’s six-foot-four. His arms were the size of Jason’s legs. His fists were like those huge ham slabs you bought at the store.
Altogether, not someone you wanted to get into a fist fight with. That is, unless you’re Jason Moore.
The big man eschewed the gun at that short range, perceiving that it was an easy win with a couple of right hooks. He threw one, which Jason ducked under. Jason then reached up with his good arm and grabbed the man’s arm, trying his best to one-handedly twist his elbow the way nature didn’t intend. That didn’t work so well, considering the arm was too thick for Jason to encircle with his hand. Instead, the Rheinlander reversed his right hook, throwing his arm the other direction, and followed up by slamming Jason in the chest with his left hand, which sent him flying across the room. Jason’s back slammed into the wall, and he rebounded. By now, the bar was in turmoil, people running for the door. Pity there weren’t any bouncers.
Jason was now a good fifteen feet from the man: perfect handgun range. He did his best at a quick-draw under the circumstances, but he only got it up once the Rheinlander had covered ten of the fifteen feet, his hands out and looking to crush Jason’s windpipe. With more willpower than strength, Jason pulled the trigger, which made a large hole form in the man’s chest. The recoil from the very high caliber felt like it nearly ripped Jason’s weakened arm off. He staggered to his feet, and ran for the ship he had stolen, more to rest and gather his thoughts than anything else.
Jason sat in the Drone’s pilot chair, wrapping a bandage around his left arm. For the thousandth time he cursed himself as an idiot: he should never have dismissed the Rheinlander from his mind. He sat there, panting. The pain killers he had just taken were kicking in, and as the pain was relieved from his mind, he started thinking of how to get to Kyoto. The way he saw it, only Blood Dragons and Golden Chrysanthemums could land there. He mulled over how he could get his hands on one of their ships.
With a sigh, he decided to sleep on it, and tried to get comfortable in the chair. Sleep rolled over him.
* * * * *
Jason was standing alone in a large room. He couldn’t see the walls, though he was sure they must be here. Pure, white light kept him from seeing far, though that didn’t make much sense. How could light keep him from seeing far? It had the look of familiarity, as if he had been there before. That was ridiculous; he had never set foot in this large space. No human had, it couldn’t exist, though that didn’t bother him for whatever reason.
He took a few steps, wondering what was supposed to happen now, when he heard what seemed to be an echo of his own footfalls behind him. Jason twirled to confront it, but saw no one. Scratching his head in a sign of confusion, he shrugged and took another few steps. This time there was an echo, but when Jason stopped walking it went on for an extra step. This time all he did was turn his head, but what he saw frightened him into doing a full turn. A Nomad.
Jason Moore…. you are strong, yes? You hold me at bay… but not here.
Jason was suddenly quite aware that this was a dream. If he knew it was a dream, shouldn’t he be able to stop it? He closed his eyes in deep concentration, trying to do… something… but when he opened them, it was all the same. A weird sound was coming from the Nomad, something he took for laughter.
You may be strong outside, but here, in this… what you call ‘dream’, I have the power…
“No! This… is… a… DREAM!”
The background slid by, to another dream, and another, each one full of torment and pain. He was aware of it all, even that it was a dream, but that changed nothing. On through the night, for what seemed to be forever…
* * * * *
With a start Jason bolted upright, gasping. His hands probed his body to make sure everything was still there, and was relieved and somewhat surprised to find he was fine. Physically fine, at least. He was sweating, and the timer said he had been under for twelve hours. Shaking his head, he got up on unsteady legs. If that’s what awaited him every time he slept, he’d just forego sleep as much as possible.