Chronometers were relatively useless aboard the escape shuttle at this point. Oh, they marked the time for the hapless passengers well enough. Time which seemed to drag endlessly as the shuttle raced onward to meet the approaching Ska Jaktar.
But outside the shuttle, time could not be measured, due to the relativistic effects of its incredible velocity. A guage on the control panel showed the shuttles speed as .92C, and still accelerating. How much time had passed on Gran Canaria since their departure? Days? Weeks? There was no way to calculate it.
Rick Deckard had once again motioned Pops aside, and spoke quietly. Reggie, the thoughts from Fnordie have become a bit clearer; but I can tell he is under great strain. He somehow has managed to escape from the Freeport Hospital, and make his way to Gran Canaria, where he liberated my large train. He is trying to follow us. Somehow, he is using his mind to increase the trains speed, but it is taking an enormous toll on him.
Pops graced Rick with a tired smile. It appears our friend is very devoted to you, Rick. I dont know how he could help if he did manage to overtake this flitter; but at least we have a line of communication open. Right now, that counts for quite a lot!
Pops glanced to the front of the cabin, where Aunt Jessica, Fiona, and the odd little AI DeSicev appeared to be having a heated discussion about something. He was almost too discouraged to be curious. He had resigned himself to being left in the dark when it came to their mysterious female companions.
Julius and Jay had inspected what little was evident in the shuttles small cabin several times over. They had tried to access the engine compartment and some of the closed panels inside the cabin, and had been rewarded for their efforts by stinging shocks from the small floating DeSicev. They were now resting again, collecting their strength and wits for whatever would come when they reached their destination. Pops nudged Rick, and nodded in their direction.
We should follow their example, my friend, and prepare ourselves in whatever small ways we can. Get some rest. Im sure we wont be allowed to miss anything exciting.
Alan Kell piloted the Outcast Destroyer YTC-2362 through the approach to his Island hangar. As they neared Veranda Incognita from the Northwest, the forested hills passed by below, an impressive looking landscape.
They were returning from planet Curacao, having found what they were looking for there, although delivery would not be possible for a while yet due to the special transportation requirements.
As the lake at Veranda Incognita came into view, XM beeped excitedly, showing an image of the terrain below.
"What do we have here?" Alan asked.
XM beeped a rude response.
"Indeed! It does look like something made a fricking mess of that peak. Perhaps we should stop for a look."
Alan reduced altitude and put the ship into a slow turn.
With the main shuttle gone from the forward bay, still in use by Spike Harris, the only alternative to landing the Destroyer would be to walk through the hilly terrain.
Although only a couple of kilometres from the hangar and even closer to Veranda Incognita, the distance on foot could easily be five or more kilometres through the densely forested area.
XM showed detailed scans of the hill on a viewscreen.
"Enough room to set down? Let's take a look then."
Easing the Destroyer down onto the flat section, Alan left the engines idling then walked down the boarding ramp.
It was a fairly large area, about twice the length of the Destroyer, uneven in shape when viewed from above but perfectly flat. The rock was in the same state as the cliffs at the edge of the hole created by the huge laser. A hard, glassy surface covered the natural cracks in the rock.
The view from the top was quite breathtaking. This peak was still the tallest and steepest in the area and the sheer rocky sides would make climbing gear a necessity for foot access. A forested ridge obscured the Island hangar from view.
XM beeped excitedly and indicated it had sent something to Alan's datapad.
Looking at his datapad, Alan saw a recording from his satellite waiting to be played. A quick review of the recording showed how the mountain had been topped.
A beam identical to the one that had targetted his hangar showed on the screen, slashing past Gran Canaria, the origin point out towards Lanzarote base. The beam had passed close enough to slice the top off the peak but appeared to do no more damage than that.
A review of other recordings showed the drama of the battlestation attempting to stop a massive meteor heading towards it. The beam that sliced the top off the mountain looked like a shot that had been aimed at the planet sized meteor.
"Well at least that battlestation is gone." Alan muttered to himself as they lifted off.
The escape shuttle still sped inexhorably towards its destination. The guages now read a velocity of .96"C", and had seemed to stabilise. The shuttle had stopped its mad acceleration toward the mad Artificer's home, the Ska Jaktar.
Rick Deckard had appeared very quiet and introspective for the past ten minutes or so. Pops Waverly had left Rick alone, knowing that he was probably in contact with Fnordie again, and that he would be duly informed of anything important.
There had been one moment of brief excitement earlier in the cabin, as Jay and Julius had discussed the possiblilty of placing an H.E. round from their purloined juggernaut weapon into the shuttle's control panel.
Cooler heads in the form of Pops and Fiona had finally prevailed, noting the risk of shrapnel flying about the cabin, and the possiblity of sending the shuttle careening off to Thud knows where. There was also the looming presence of DeSicev, who would probably shock the perpetrators senseless before they could pull a trigger.
Rick finally came out of his reverie, looking very shaken. He finally rose, and came over to speak with Reggie.
"Reggie, I have some very bad news. I just learned from Fnordie that your old friend Shamus is dead. He was killed by the laser defences at the Veranda as he tried to enter it. Fnordie says that not even Mal has the codes for the system..."
"Unfortunately, Rick, that is true. We never felt the need to share the codes, which now appears to be a gross oversight on my part. Hmm.. would it be possible for you to pass the codes onto Fnordie, who could then squawk them to Mal or the Fnordettes?"
"I can try, Reggie." said Rick. "Fnordie is beginning to fall back. He can't maintain his telekinetic "boost" to my Train and still communicate with me. We would have to choose between the two."
"Give me your datapad, Rick. I'll enter the codes, and you can "transmit" them to Fnordie. At this point, it is imperative that Mal have access to the Veranda's resources. There is information there that will be vital if Articifer somehow gets past us and continues into Sirius. And, it is more important at the moment that we have Fnordie as a "relay", rather than a rescuer."
Rick reviewed the code on his datapad several times and then closed his eyes. He felt Fnordie's presence was diminishing.
...
Fnordie started to realise he overestimated the persistence of his powers. Keeping the Train moving almost at lightspeed while shielded vastly drained his resourses. As he had no time to train his new abilities he also had no idea what the real capacities are and what happens when they are depleted. Combined with the fact that just a few days ago he was in coma, he knew he's playing "russian roulette".
He managed to get in contact with Rick and knowing he was alive and not harmed encouraged him greatly. Although the scary Rick's thoughts about certain Dr. Artificer cooled his enthusiasm a bit. He "told" Rick about Shamus, and odd behavior of the Veranda defences. Rick was quiet for a while. And Fnordie knew, that in order to keep the Train in its direction he can't waste his energy on communication with Rick. So he started to fall back.
~ Fnordie! Hold on a bit longer! We need you locate Malaclypse and send him these access codes to the Veranda defences. ~
~ Rick.... I can't do that... ~
~ Fnordie! Listen! Mal has to get in the Veranda at all costs! ~
~ ... ~
~ Fnordie? ~ ..silence...
...
Mal was sitting in the waiting room of Gran Canaria Medical Clinic. Lots of thoughts were running back and forth in his head. But suddenly he saw three sets of codes shining fluorescently on the opposite wall. He blinked his eyes but they didn't disappear.
And then: ~ Mal, Fnordie here, don't ask anything, just remember those are the Veranda security cod..~
Then everything disappeared. The codes, the voice in his had. He stood up quickly, still looking at the wall, shocked.
...
The shield in front of Deckard's train started to thin. Such a small piece of rock would normally get repulsed by the shield or just scratch the hull but at this speed it hit the right engine which simply evaporated. The train started spinning uncontrolably...
"We are approaching our destination." That was all the warning the group had as the ship began to slow down immediately from near light speed to impulse. The chiding voice of deSicev spoke up, singing, but none of the passengers knew quite what...
"Activating data... acquiring signal... amplifying... complete. Playing dialogue.
"If you dream of a girl, for you... then call us and get two, for the price of one! If you dream of a girl, for you... then call us and get two, for the price of one!"
Jessica stared at the little orb. The face reappeared, smiling. "Sorry, sorry, sorry. Must have been a rogue frequency. Ah, but I think you may want to take a peek... out of there." The orb's screen-face was pointing towards the ceiling, which had begun to roll back, revealing a very large, very thick pane of transparent glass. And what they saw disturbed even Julius.
It was a Dyson Sphere.
The massiveness of the object had already begun to affect the ship. It moved towards the object at an increasing speed, and buttons frantically flashed. A screen descended from the bulbous device that had appeared to be piloting the thing. On it, Rheinland words flashed. After thirty seconds of deciphering, Jessica's mouth opened wide. "This is the Ska Jaktar, alright. And see that thing?" She pointed to a cylinder that had begun to protrude from the only opening in the kilometers-thick shell. "That is the Yrshimi Cannon, and if what I've read is correct, we have a lot to fear.
"This datastream has informed me about the workings of that thing. It uses the idea of Zero Kelvin Warfare, or ZKW. ZKW works in an efficient way - it reduces the atoms of its target to zero degrees Kelvin. Sound cold? It is. At that temperature, electrons stop moving. This causes them to crash into the proton/neutron core of the atom, which cannot explode because of the lack of start-up energy.
"This effectively destroys the atom. While mankind could never harness the amount of energy that would be necessary to cool something down to zero degrees Kelvin, it appears the Jaktarians had. These people had broken the first rule of science: matter can neither be made or destroyed. Well, it seems they could. And if they had successfully done that... well, that would be very, very bad."
Fiona stood up, looking at the screen. She, too, could read the archaic Rheinlandic that had not been used in well over 70 years, and her face furrowed. What her aunt was saying was true... in theory. But the ZKW had never been used. And it was impossible... right?
At this point, the screen changed abruptly from words to a picture. It was a video feed, but from the sepia and occasional breaks in dialogue, where the audio signal had degraded, Fiona knew it was old. It began to write out a basic program, a translation code:
<Begin Transmission>
The Journals of a Dead Man
<Translation from Old Germanic to Basic Complete>
The air was crisp that morning as I woke, and it heralded the demise of Fall. The wind sighed morosely through the last few leaves that remained in trees, which to me foreshadowed the planned events of the day. For that day was the day I died.
My name is Professor Alexiander Molochov deLuna. I am a professor of genetics, my passion, as well as a number of other things. I had a child, a son, named Geodolf on the planet New Berlin. I raised him here for ten years, teaching at the University there. However, my abilities in that field were not unnoticed by the Government, and I was 'indoctrinated' into their folds. My son, only 10 years old, was given away. I was erased from history.
The government wanted my knowledge for a new field that they had a vested interest in; namely, cybernetic genetics. Surely, I said, such disciplines of science are so different that they could never be combined! But I was wrong; I severely underestimated my leaders' intentions, a mistake that would cost many lives.
For years, the Rheinland Government had been trying to graft human intellect to machines. The progress made was promising, but they needed a specialist to perfect it. I was such a specialist. Brain-to-Computer Transferring, that was what it was called. As if giving it a name would cover up the atrocities it would breed! But I could not say no. My life was at stake, such was the want to have this project completed. And so, I was given a new name, one that has been used to identify me since.
Doctor Artificer.
The name tells everything that there is to know about my line of work. I made things, as simple as that. I was put on the task of creating a super artificial intelligence, one that would be able to contain the consciousness of a human, and to that effect, I succeeded. The first tests weren't inspiring; the prisoners that we were given to work with would be put into the process, and instead of having the computer's AI being replaced with the human's, the body of the prisoner went into a comatose state, and died shortly after. It was clear that we would need something else. Something better.
And that was given to us discreetly. It came to our attention that androids were being produced easily now, and that they had what was called 'polymorphic AI'; a form of software that evolved and responded to the stimuli around it. We invested heavily in this new form of robot, and added countless modifications, making it far superior to anything else on the market. But still, the tests were failures! What we needed was supplied by the most unorthodox source we could imagine; a Nomad brain!
These little, ingenious pieces of organic software gave us the boost we needed to create an artificial brain; at last, success! The first prisoner who was 'upgraded' took hold immediately, and was able to walk about in a rather whimsical manner. Even so, it was a success. We named him AbomOne - short for Abomination One. He would be the first of many of that series.
After we had perfected the method of transferring the human into the machine, the Rheinland Military stepped in. It had been, you see, their idea in the first place. They wished to create invincible soldiers, who would fear nothing and be immune to all! They wanted assured victory. And that's what they expected us to give them.
We built the new android bodies from parts commissioned from all of Sirius; an experimental, renewable fuel from Kusari, advanced alloys from Britonia, weapons systems from Liberty, and humans from Rheinland. Even the Corsairs and Blood Dragons contributed, although they never knew it. The Optic Chips the Blood Dragons could hijack from Kusari Transports proved most helpful, and the Nomad Brains brought in by the Corsairs was a blessing. Slowly, we created the first of a new series; the RAM, or Rheinland Android Military. But they would be known by a name far more suiting - the Juggernaut.
At a height of five meters, weighing close to fourteen metric tons, the RAMs were an imposing opponent. Created from the new Britonian alloys, which were engineered to withstand the heat of nuclear fusion, or perhaps the corona of a star, the Juggernauts were almost indestructible. Their fuel was a new Kusari experiment; MOX, H-fuel, oxygen and Toxic Waste mixed together. It worked perfectly, allowing our spawn to run continually for almost fifteen years before it would need to be renewed, which it could. The weapons systems from Liberty were so acute that they could hit something from over two hundred kilometers accurately. And the men from Rheinland were prepared to occupy these behemoths. Or so they thought.
Over four years, we were able to move the entire Spec Ops division of the Rheinland Military into the RAMs. It was the bitter fruit of my efforts, and it was undoubtedly the greatest undertaking that Rheinland had ever commissioned. But, as with the best laid plans of mice and men, we had underestimated something of dire import: how being a mechanized monster would affect the psychological aspect of our soldiers.
While the armor of the Juggernauts could withstand the blast of a Nova Torpedo, the fuel was highly unstable. One of our first RAM soldiers fired a single shot into the fuel supply of a fellow RAM. The explosion was catastrophic, but it should have been just a single explosion. Sadly, the heat shields we had installed were faulty, being newly invented and not yet perfected. The entire RAM exploded. The blast destroyed the station we were working on, and I was lucky enough to be off it at the time; I had been forced to grovel in front of the High Command.
That was almost eleven years ago. Since then, I've been on this planet, whose name I don't even know. My pet project that I started while I was Dr. Artificer, the Ska'Ralla station, has been completed, but I can't begin to speculate what evil it will perform in the hands of those savages. Today, I have been scheduled to be killed. How? I do not know. I have lived to the age of sixty eight, and I am pleased with that. My son, Geodolf, was given to a rich family, which gives me satisfaction as I do not need to fear for his safety. I go to my death knowing that my life has been completed. Let us hope that this transmission, the only document that contains my true name and doings, reaches the relay before it can be jammed. If it does, my deeds will not be lost with me. I can take comfort in knowing someone out there is reading this, the musings and words of a dead man, and taking heed.
I can only hope that my failed project, the RAM, dies with me. Such an atrocity should be left alone, but not forgotten. It must serve as a reminder as to what can happen when the best of intentions are twisted.
Professor Alexiander Molochov deLuna, PhD
Doctor Artificer
<Translation End>
<End Transmission>
Fiona read this off, and turned around to look at her fellow hostages. "Well... I think that this explains some things... but why did this activate...?"
Pops spoke now, the voice of reason heavy in his carefully chosen words. "Perhaps, young one, we should postpone the sentimental sorrow until we're out of that... uh... Irshme? Yeah, that's it. The Irshme Cannon's range. From what you said about it... well, it won't be pretty to be in the way of it."
Snapping back from her revere, Fiona looked at her aunt. "Yes... you are, of course, correct Reggie. Jessica, can you pilot this thing now? Or is the auto-pilot still on?"
After getting assured that Jessica could fly the shuttle, Fiona settled down on a comfortable chair. Jessica, meanwhile, looked at the controls in awe. "Wow... this thing is amazing. I've managed to unlock the full capabilities of this thing and... oh my... it can create jump holes! The power it must take... okay, people, hang on tight! This is going to be one tough ride!"
It took seven minutes for the shuttle to arrive at Gran Canaria. During that time, a beam of the most iridescent blue Fiona had ever seen had erupted from the Yrshimi Cannon, and had followed them through the jump hole. As they arrived, Jessica barely had enough time to swerve out of the way to avoid getting hit by the beam. It traveled forwards, hitting a Huguenot and obliterating it. There wasn't even any debris; it was as if the battleship hadn't been there at all.
Landing on Gran Canaria, Fiona hugged Reggie and smiled at everyone else, apart from Lucius, of course. "This is where we part ways for a while, you all. We might get back together... and draw trouble wherever we may meet! Jessica, deSicev and I need to get to Honshu, though. I have things to attend to, wounds to get patched up... the works. Adieu! I wish you all good fortune."
Lifting off of the planet, Jessica at the helm, the shuttle jumped from Gran Canaria to Akita Station. Reggie turned to Mal, who had walked up the catwalk to the landing area. "Good news and bad news. Bad news first? Right. Fnordie isn't back yet... but I think he's fine. He better be fine: he helped open the Veranda back up from lock down! Good news? Well... the Veranda is out of lock down! There is a lovely place for a certain woman's villa, and the Ralla has been offed for good. All in all, a job well done."
Reggie turned around, looking at the remaining hostages. Only one of the Juggernaut guns had been whisked off the shuttle, along with a few bundles of ammunition. Only 100 shells, counting the ones in the chamber, were on Gran Canaria. Jay sighed. From what he had inspected, no being other than the original maker of the bullets could hope to replace them. Assuming Fiona would destroy the other gun and ammunition, there would only be these 100 shells in existence. Apart from the other Juggernauts, assuming there were any.
Reggie whispered to the others. "We do not speak of what we've seen today. We will await the Ambassador... she is the one that should speak. Rick, I mean keeping it a secret from Fnordie, too. Wouldn't want him to go off and attack that thing we saw today... judging from the damage it dealt... well, it would be catastrophic for the little pup to get offed by the Irshme thingy. Do I have y'all's word?"
After a general nod of agreement, including from Julius, Reggie led the procession to the Veranda, and began to inspect the damage. Apart from losing one of his closest friends, and some dirt stains, he hadn't suffered much. At least that was something. Sighing, he spoke to himself.
"Was she worth it? Definitely. Are we safe? Of course not. But will we stand together should that menace attack us...? That is a good question."
Fnordie managed to take over the train again, and stopped the spinning. It still was flying at a huge speed. The right engine was gone and the other one was malfunctioning. Fnordie sensed that Rick's "signal" was getting closer and was diverted from its previous course. Fnordie braked the train and followed the shuttle which was now in visible range. He saw a jump hole had been opened in front of it, the shuttle flew in it and jumped. There appeared a shining blue beam starting from a round space station in the proximity and ending in the recently created jump hole. Fnordie had no other choice but to follow it although he knew that if the first beam missed there could be another one which would hit almost certainly.
After some period of time he finally flew into the hole and jumped as well. He somehow knew the other beam was coming so as soon as the jump ended he triggered the ejection of his lifepod. The beam hit the large train and again there was not a single wreckage when it ended.
...
"Heh, keeping it a secret from Fnordie?" Rick grinned. "Nice joke, Reggie, but I see your point. Let's just hope he's wise enough not to attempt anything and return back from that bloody orb as soon as possible. In fact I'm rather worried about him at the moment as he must be tired. Last time we were in contact when I tried to send him the security codes and then our communication was cut off abruptly."
Rick looked he was about to say something else but then he froze. Reggie and Mal looked at him and both asked: "What?"
"Fnordie must have followed us through the hole but the beam hit my ship and destroyed it. Mal, are there any of your Fnordettes still present in the system? The mission is simple, find Fnordie's pod, tractor it and bring him back here."
The battered looking shuttle settles into the hangar, closely followed by a box of a freighter with the name Slagheap emblazoned on the side.
The door of the shuttle eases open and a man and woman in combat flightsuits step out. An arm around each other's waist, they turn and look back towards the hangar's main door. There's considerable noise from automated construction machinery working on various things.
"Brought my shuttle back at last eh Spike?" Alan Kell calls from a side door in the hangar over the noise of the settling freighter and machinery. "Looks a bit worse for wear mind you."
Spike looks over at him with a half smile, looking less careworn than he did before he left. "I'd say this place looks a bit the worse for wear. What happened?"
"I thought you might be able to tell me. That battlestation you detected blasted the place shortly after you left. Anyway, we can catch up on that later. Who's the lovely young lady with you?"
Spike grins. "This is Kate..."
Alan interrupts. "Pleased to meet you Kate." he looks over towards the freighter. "I'd better welcome our other arrival as well. Looks like one of Shamus' associates from the ship type."
Kate speaks up, "That's Scutter. He thought he'd head back this way for a while as well, after having a few investment issues where we were."
"Yer that's right." Unshaven and wearing a dirty shipsuit, Scutter emerges from the freighter. "Looks like a bleedin' bomb 'it this place."
"Oh you know, battlestations, deathrays...that kind of thing. Sounds like normal for the house systems but seems to have found it's way to the backwaters even. The shield generators overheated and there was some damage." Alan shrugs. "Anyway, Mister Scutter, I'm afraid I have some bad news for you."
Scutter glances around nervously. "The coppers round 'ere somewhere?"
"Well, apart from Spike here, nothing like that. I'm afraid your old boss, Shamus at London Drugs Incorporated, took a shot to the chest and was killed."
Scutter looks astonished. "What the bleedin' 'ell did 'e go an' do that for?"
"We'd better head over to Veranda Incognita to find out I suppose. The defense system got sabotaged a while ago but I've received word that it's safe again."
Spike interrupts. "Kate and I had better continue on our way. I really ought to check in..."
"Right. I'll send XM with you to bring the YTC back when you're done, if you don't mind. I expect you have a ship waiting for you."
"That sounds fine. Appreciate the charter and hospitality." Spike gestures at a pile of heat damaged equipment. "Sorry about causing all the mess."
Alan waves his hand as though it is of no importance. "I sort of like having a moat around the place. Perhaps salesmen will leave me alone now.
"Oh and leave the shuttle there so I can get started on repairs. You've been offered a place to stay at Veranda Incognita by the way." He grins. "Guess you missed out on the hospitality last time."
"Appreciate the offer. Perhaps if it quietens down a bit around here..."
Spike turns and heads towards the destroyer's boarding ramp, Kate following close behind. XM beeps to itself and follows them, it's sensor array watching the parked shuttle...
Leading the way through a door in the corner of the hangar, through a tunnel in the rock and out onto a bridge slung across the crater, Alan continues speaking.
"Anyway Scutter, I might not be here myself if I'd gone to check on Veranda Incognita earlier. Damn lucky not to be in the same state as Shamus really.
"As well as the sabotaged defense grid, some blast, origin unknown, blew away a passing Heugenot. What the Huegenot was doing around here is anyone's guess.
"The YTC is usually the only ship of that type in the area... Seems a bit less safe around here." He shakes his head sadly.
Looking down into the chasm under the bridge, Scutter pipes up. "Damn right. Yer sure it's safe at this Veranda place?"
Alan pauses a moment, looking off into the distance, then shrugs and starts walking again.
Scutter looks back towards the hangar wistfully, the sound of engines warming up audible through the closed door...then follows Alan in the direction of the Veranda.
The King's Carnival slides into low orbit over Planet Gran Canaria. Three fighters peel out from the launch bays and spread into escort formation around the liner. The garish paintjob, (orange on purple)and the battered prow present a menacing contrast to the heavy armament and the professionalism of the escorting fighters. Carbon Scoring on the port side gave evidence of recent combat, as did the missing wing of one of the escorting fighters. On the Bridge, Kingpin and his longtime friend and copilot Buffles discuss happenings.
"Buffles, remember when we first got this barge?"
"Yes, that was a bit of a cock-up. Everyone shooting everything, didn't even need the cops."
"Aye. Too bad he had to end like that, that boy had potential."
"True. Ah well, at least we're still alive. I wouldn't be going near the estate for awhile though, i suspect your DNA clearance is no longer valid, at best."
"Quite. Ah well, ask the bay to get my fighter ready, we should go and see whats going on."
Jack Handey Wrote:I can picture in my mind a world without war, a world without hate. And I can picture us attacking that world, because they'd never expect it.
Jay moved the train out of orbit, the waypoint from Jessica blinking on the nav-map. The jump hole had long
vanished, Rick and he were moving as fast as they could. Fnordie needed their help now.
"Bloody lightspeed would be good right now, stupid machine."
Jay urged the freighter to move faster. Rick just looked a little grim.
"30k to Lanzarote, then another ten or so beyond, I can feel his lifesigns are weak but stable."
They just sat and watched the thousands of kilometres peel slowly off the course.
"Shame Mal couldn't get the any of the fnordettes up here to go with us, but at least we have a very small
search area narrowed down now."
Rick spoke slowly.
"We are doing the best we can, and can ask no more."
The scanner clicked on, moving slowly across a wide sweep at maximum range. Rick just watched intently,
his eyes never leaving the screen for a moment.
"I have a faint contact, please put the ship into auto."
Jay punched a couple of buttons and the nav took over, with a small correction to the course.
"Definate target now, lets just get there. I feel him much more now, hes ok I think."
"I'll call a medical shuttle to meet us above the planet, quicker than getting this old bus onto the surface."
Jay just cracked a little smile at Rick now.
Get down to the bay mate, tractor beam almost in range. Be nice if he saw a familiar mug when you crack the
pod open. I'll just turn this old girl straight round and head on back as soon as I can."
The train slowed to a halt, Jay hit the tractor beam and the pod zapped into the hold. Re assigning a waypoint
on the nav-map for GC, the ship turned and headed home.
A wake for Shamus was all they had to look forwards to now. Jay looked at the Juggernaut assault rifle at
the back of cockpit, he'd managed to sneak another 180 rounds for the beast of the shuttle.
Only one person who he had wanted to point that at and pull the trigger, and hopefully that thing was dead
with the Ska Ralla.
Been a damn long few days, last time he just popped in somewhere to watch a sunset on a veranda ...
Some say he is a proud member of: "The most paranoid group of people in the Community."
Reggie had just surveyed the interior of the villa. Some minor damage, nothing that couldn't be repaired. The droids were already busily at work, including Alan's XM unit, which had come by to investigate, and to escort new guests. Reggie recognized Scutter immediately from an old Military holopic Shamus had shown him. The other two newcomers had decided to stay the night before proceeding to Bretonia space.
Kate, the stunning redhead who Spike Harris had brougt back through the rift from.. wherever.. had surveyed the commotion of the droids, and had summarily decided that their work wasn't up to her standards, and set to work as well.
Reggie showed Spike to a relatively undisturbed area of the villa, and had shown him two empty guestrooms; one of which Spike declined with a sly but beaming smile.
Reggie had wandered out onto the Veranda. Just outside the front door, his attention was caught by something. His gaze went to a rather large bloodstain which had partially soaked into the oaken planks of the decking. The spot where Fiona had stumbled into NURSE's bullet.
Reggie clicked a back tooth.
"Maintenance:
Item:
Blood stain immediately outside front entrance:
Do not remove.
Seal over with permanent clear sealant.
Priority."
<click>
"It may seem a bit gruesome, Fiona, but I want to remember that bastard Artificer and his many incarnations for the rest of my life."
Reggie returned inside to the comms unit, and began to compose a message to the Ambassador on Honshu.
A preliminary survey has confirmed his fears: The top half meter of vitrified, embrittled granite would have to be removed from the sheared-off peak before construction could begin. It would not do to have an unstable base under Villa Uli Rouge. Thus had Fiona dubbed it. Thus it would be.
And then to begin the planning for Shamus' Wake. It would be an event to remember.
![[Image: malsig_alt1.png]](http://i118.photobucket.com/albums/o108/Shamus_FL/malsig_alt1.png)
![[Image: Harlequinn-Copy2.png]](http://i79.photobucket.com/albums/j130/dboy1612/Harlequinn-Copy2.png)
![[Image: sighoodlumkb4.jpg]](http://i53.photobucket.com/albums/g59/Fellow_Hoodlum/sighoodlumkb4.jpg)