Marcus came around half an hour after he had been brought into sickbay. Victoria still sat at his side and a number of unfamiliar faces hung around the room. He groggily tried to sit up, propping his back against the wall and blinking frantically.
Whoa, what happened? He asked, smacking his lips in order to wet them.
You were hit by vented plasma, Victoria said, checking his temperature.
No, Marcus closed his eyes for a moment, That cant be right.
What do you mean, Victoria leaned across and took the damp flannel she had been using to keep Marcus cool from beside the sink.
The plasma wasnt vented plasma, Marcus tried to think back, It was a plasma based weapon, Sayne used it to strafe the foliage. I remember it searing into the trees, some must have dripped on me from above.
It doesnt matter, Edge wiped his forehead with the flannel, The important thing is you are safe.
Marcus suddenly sat bolt upright, sending the flannel flying from Victorias grip.
The Senator, how is the Senator? He demanded.
Hes alright Marcus, Victoria said, somewhat alarmed. And so is his wife and child, please relax for a moment, youre burning up.
Of course, Marcus lie back down and let Victoria wipe his brow with the damp cloth.
I need to speak to the Fleet Admiral, He said, sitting up again.
Ill get him down here as soon as you are feeling up to it, Victoria insisted, pressing Marcus gently back down.
No need, Robert Merlows voice sounded from behind her, How is he doing?
Victoria stood up and saluted, Hes recovering from his wounds sir, says he reckons it wasnt vented plasma from the ships engine but some sort of handheld plasma cannon.
Interesting, Merlow mused, Thank you Captain, you are relieved.
Victoria nodded, albeit solemnly. It was obvious that she didnt want to leave Marcus side.
I wont be long Victoria, Merlow gave her a smile, Hell be up and about in no time anyway.
Victoria nodded and saluted again before standing aside and letting the Fleet Admiral sit down next to Marcus.
Sir, Marcus said, nodding.
You dont need to use formalities around me Scarecrow, not under these circumstances at least.
Thank you sir, Marcus grinned. Have you spoken to the Senator?
Yes I did, he seemed a little pissed at first but hes gotten over the attack and is now cooperating fully. I have decided to keep him and his family on board the Danaan for the moment, just to be safe.
A wise precaution, what about Jadyn, could you track him? Marcus looked quizzically at Robert.
Unfortunately no, the ship he escaped in looked to be a Sabre, a Border Worlds heavy fighter. But it was using some strange stealth technology, after visual, we lost it completely. Weve marked it down now though; a jet black Sabre with red skull decals, weve put out the description and have agents working undercover in the spaceports on the lookout.
Aside from that, weve made little other progress. Youre friend Manning is still down on the surface along with Reinhardt and Wilder conducting the investigation. He seems to have taken on a personal vendetta against Jadyn. Ive assigned two Sadukar units and a team of HiME operatives to his taskforce, as well as a Black Ops team. I have to warn you though Marcus, Im still not entirely trusting of him.
He will earn your trust sir, Marcus sat up and swung his legs out of bed. Now, permission to get a decent damned meal.
Permission granted Admiral, Merlow stood up and let Marcus past. One thing first Scarecrow,
Marcus turned around, What it is Robert?
Put some bloody clothes on,
---
Camden Hotel
Planet Los Angeles, LA Capital
Sayne Jadyn strode into the wide living room, a pleased grin on his face. Tyrant Scarman followed him in, the usual look of simmering anger seething beneath his eyes. The two men walked past a number of Black Flag Corsairs before finally arriving at a portable computer console. Zed Raphael and Skyler Hawkins, the two surviving members of Scarmans Black Flag Elite sat at the console, observing survey plans of the local district and spaceport.
There will be a tag out on your precious Black Flag now Marcus, Hawkins hissed as Scarman sat down beside him.
I said we should have taken an unmarked transport, Marcus growled, looking over at Sayne.
Silence, Jadyn retorted as he popped open a bottle of lager. Today has been a fruitful day. We now have the Freedom Fighters feeling most insecure and understanding what a true threat I really am.
Marcus cleared his throat and looked across at Sayne. Jadyn narrowed his eyes and smirked.
Fine, what a threat we truly are. He took a swig from his bottle before banging it down on the windowsill beside him and sighing in satisfaction. And dont worry about your precious Sabre Scarman, you hid her well enough and now her image is known throughout our enemy. If your Black Flag does indeed strike fear into the hearts of your enemies, well lets consider it an added bonus.
Watch your wit Jadyn, let us stick to business. Marcus opened a lager for himself and took a swig, tendrils of beer tricking out of the sides of his mouth and running down his jaw, through his dirty beard. The Tyrant of the Black Flag Corsairs had not been keeping his appearance lately. He was unclean, unshaven and wore the same set of jumps he wore when the BFC first arrived on Los Angeles. He was beginning to look more and more like a scavenger, with his fingerless gloves and tatted old coveralls. The rage was still evident beneath his new disheveled appearance however. All it meant was that there was something bothering him more so than usual.
Whats our next move? Marcus asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
You are going to have a wash, Sayne said, a sly grin across his face. Raphael and Hawkins sniggered, resulting in an angry swipe from their boss.
I told you to watch your wit Jadyn! Marcus spat, half rising.
Relax Marcus, Sayne said, calmly raising his hands. I am being serious. This Senator Scarman, your alternate self, may be useful to us. Well, that is to say, his position. Do you think that, given time and study, you would be able to pose as him Marcus?
It shouldnt be a problem, all I need to do is assume his mannerisms and
have a wash, exactly. Sayne finished his sentence. Marcus curled his lip at the comment and took another swig at his lager.
Ill do it, and whilst Im at it I can slit that bastard Merlows throat.
Dont be so jumpy Marcus; each ones time will come. Have patience, for now all we need to do is follow their movements and play them at their own game. Sayne began to spin his bottle between the palms of his hands. Everything is shaping out nicely, go tomorrow Marcus, and take some of your Corsairs with you to pose as engineers in case you need to make a quick escape.
Kurt Manning looked down at the assortment of pirate ships in the hangar below. He stood in a balcony chamber that overlooked the hangar, originally designed as a spotter house for members of the Spaceport crew to keep a watchful eye of the proceedings down below. The room was kitted out with a number of consoles and computer, all with the aim of observing pressure levels, keeping tabs with fuel assignments and overlooking the engineer shifts.
Kurt had managed to track down some new arrivals and was holding them in one of the Spaceports detention centers for questioning. The ships he had rounded up were all quite old and each bore the same markings as those seen on the vessel Sayne Jadyn had escaped in the previous day. He had ordered a science team to come down from the Danaan and check the matter-types of each ship. If they matched those of the universe Fleet Admiral Merlow had just left behind, then they were definitely connected to Sayne Jadyn and his mob of renegades. Kurt had heard about a new force to be reckoned with; a force that had only appeared in Liberty round about the time the Freedom Fighters had fallen through the void. They called themselves the Black Flag Corsairs, and as far as Manning could tell, they were a roving band of pirates, quite like the pirates old. They had a history of ravaging and plundering outposts and settlements.
Kurt had managed to make several contacts, under the radar of the Freedom Fighters, and now understood that the Black Flag Corsairs were working for Sayne Jadyn and his colleague, the sinister Tyrant of the Black Flag Corsairs. Nobody knew the identity of their leader, the only information Kurt had managed to dig up on him was the simple fact that he was not a man easily crossed.
Manning had been working around the clock with Klaus Reinhardt, digging up as much information as he could. With several new contacts beneath the brow of the Freedom Fighters, he had been forced to be discreet, making up stories about how he had come across the information he had. He suspected Admiral Wilder had a keen idea of where Kurt was finding his information, but he doubted the man cared. The apprehension of Sayne Jadyn was the primary item on everybodys minds, the means to which being less important.
The prisoners are being held in detention block eight, The Spaceport Security Commander reported smartly.
Kurt looked down on the gathering of fighters. The red skull of the BFC leered back up at him.
Good, Ill deal with them personally. First Im going to go down and get a better look at those fighters. Is my science team here yet?
Their ETA is five minutes Mr. Manning, The Commander reported. Their shuttle landed a couple of minutes ago.
Excellent, tell them to meet me in the hangar bay.
Ill get right on it, The Commander turned around and began to tap away at a console. Kurt spun on his heel and exited the room, his long coat flicking in his wake. Klaus Reinhardt met him outside.
Do you think we have a good lead here? He asked as he fell in step with Manning.
If these pilots are members of the Black Flag Corsairs, they might be able to tell us something about Jadyns motives. He paused and sneered, After a little persuasion.
Klaus said nothing as they arrived at the elevator.
Ill be in the hangar bay checking out those ships, Ill meet you down in the detention area in one hour.
Ill be there, Klaus nodded as Kurt stepped into the elevator. He watched as Manning punched the control button and began to descend. Once he had disappeared entirely, Reinhardt turned around and made back for the balcony chamber.
---
Pete Connors and Lorraine Hurst entered the detention building dressed as Spaceport Security Officers and pushing a man-sized wheeled cargo container. The two Black Flag Corsairs had assumed the roles of the two Security Officers so that they could get into the installation and also play their part in getting their master and Tyrant on board the Freedom Fighter flagship. Marcus Scarman lay in suspended animation inside the long container they pushed before them. They knew that several of their comrades had been captured by the Freedom Fighters and planned to use that as a way to get their leader in. The two pirates wheeled their cargo around a corner and stopped short of the detention block.
Alright, the data I downloaded said that they were being held in Block eight, Hurst said, checking her wristwatch.
Lets get Scarecrow out now, Connors released the catch on the crate. Hurst turned to her pack and produced a syringe whilst Pete opened up the crate and exposed Marcus forearm. He lay in the padded berth, looking almost serene in his suspended state. Connors suppressed the urge to reel at the touch of Scarecrows cold skin. In suspended animation, Scarman was effectively dead until a dose of adrenaline was injected directly into his heart.
Hurst took out the long adrenaline hypodermic and prepared the needle. Once the syringe was ready, she plunged it into his chest, piercing his heart. She jammed her thumb down on the injector and a rush of pure adrenaline flooded into Scarecrows system. He spluttered and coughed, bolting upright in the casket. He tore the hypo from his chest and began flexing his fingers, trying to get the blood pumping back around his limbs.
How long was I out for, He gasped, trying to control his breathing.
Just under an hour, Lorraine said, picking up the spent hypoderm and placing it back in her carry case. The prisoners are in there; well stay back and let you work your magic. We have a couple of ships in the hangar bay, but if all goes to plan well be accompanying you up to the Freedom Fighter vessel on their transport.
Excellent work my Brawlers, Marcus gave them a deranged grin, Go get yourselves a couple of Freedom Fighter outfits, standard marines, nothing special.
Consider it done, Connors raspy voice replied.
The two Black Flag Corsairs turned away and disappeared around the other end of the corridor. Marcus knew he would be seeing them again soon. He pulled himself out of the casket, still groggy from his slumber. His limbs felt cold, almost dead. Heavy pins and needles assaulted his muscles as he began to work them. He flexed his arms as he walked down the corridor, occasionally jogging on the spot to warm up his legs.
He wore nothing but a pair of loose trousers, made of a thin material that didnt degrade in the cold temperatures of the animation sequence. Walking barefoot, he cautiously made his way down the corridor towards the detention block. Peering around the corner, he instantly spotted the FF guards placed outside. Their uniforms were unfamiliar to him, different from that of the Spaceport Security and the regular Freedom Fighter Marines he had seen at the Scarman residence.
Taking a deep breath, he darted around the corner, staying light on his toes. He made directly for the first soldier, bringing his right fist into a deadly hook. He knocked the man unconscious immediately. The armored guard slumped back against the wall, his head lolling to one side. The second guard was a woman, and as soon as her comrade was down she launched into action.
Angela Insworth, Sadukar Unit and servant of justice couldnt believe her eyes when one of the Admirals of the Freedom Fighters appeared before her, half naked and slightly crazed. She gasped in shock at the number of scars that marred his chest and arms. Deep groves ran through his rippled muscles, many of them almost too gruesome to look at. Despite Angelas physical prowess and heightened abilities, it was the precious seconds she wasted taking in the sight before her that were her undoing. Scarecrow came in hard and fast, darting lightly on the balls of his feet. Within mere seconds, he rested his hands about her neck, securing light but firm grips on her jaw and the base of her skull. With a casual flick and a spin, her neck cracked and her body crumpled to the floor. Scarecrow stood over the corpse, picking out a short blade and M9 Enforcer pistol.
Moving to the locked door, he opened the seal with a quick flick of the control knob and the armored door slid back into its berth. A number of depressed faces looked up at him. They brightened for a moment before they recognized the fiery anger beneath the seething eyes of their Tyrant.
So, you halfwit imbeciles managed to get yourselves captured, Marcus leveled the blaster at the nearest captive Black Flag Corsair. What have you told the Freedom Fighters!
Nothing boss, I swear The man stammered, trying not to avert his masters gaze. Marcus lip curled in disgust and he fired the weapon. The mans face exploded in a shower of blood and bone as the bolt smacked into the bridge of his nose. The bloodied corpse swayed slowly before toppling to the floor of the cell.
You maggots are going to do me one last favour before you die. Scarecrow snarled. You are going to run; you are going to run for your lives.
He fired the Enforcer into the ceiling to get the gathered BFC pilots riled. Run maggots! Run!
The five remaining Black Flag Corsairs jumped up to their feet and bolted for the door, Marcus let for of them go but stopped the last one. The young woman stopped dead as Marcus pressed the blaster against her neck, her bottom lip quivering uncontrollably.
Not you, you are going to do something special for me.
Los Angeles Spaceport
Hovering Outside the Tuatha de Danaan Raven's Talon, Cloaked
So far so good. I wasn't going to even try to infiltrate the flagship. They probably had alarms on every deck that would wail like a siren if I came anywhere close to that ship. Oddly enough, I was right outside in a cloaked fighter, trailing the ship close. Funny that they were searching the entire galaxy for me, and I was right on their door step. Scarman was probably doing his thing right about now, and the good Admiral Scarecrow was more than likely already on his feet. He was known for getting back on his feet quickly after an attack or wound. I had to give it to him, he was a tough guy, tougher than most. I sighed and rubbed my hand through my rough brown hair.
Was I mad?
I had pondered that very same question time and time again, but I kept coming back to the same conclusion. What he had done was plain stupid and arrogant. I told him, I told him.
"Sir, there's a .50 cal machine gun in that tower, the delta formation isn't the best course of action." I repeated in the darkness of my cockpit. Trying to remember the scene in detail.
"Negative Captain, there isn't anyway they could have gotten a gun up there in that amount of time. They're not that quick." he had replied.
"You're wrong sir." I replied
"Excuse me? Captain?"
That's the moment that I turned on him. The moment he sent out my friends, my allies, they were shot down like bugs. Like a kid with a magnifying glass had smote them with the fury of the sun. I watched as their arms and legs were torn asunder. I watched as they suffered and died on that spot on that rainy day in Bretonia. I remembered holding Scarman down with my rifle across his neck, watching him almost die of suffociation...I should have killed him.
"Captain Jadyn! Get off him!!" someone screamed and threw me off. I stared at him in hatred...I could have killed him and his little protector and gotten away with it that day, but I didn't...did that mean some part of me was human? That maybe, by some hope that maybe I wasn't completely a raving lunatic?
"For Christ's sake, JADYN" The communicator crackled.
"What the f*** do you want Scarecrow?" I yelled hotly.
I heard him grumble and almost throw the reciever.
Sayne cut the link with Scarecrow and opened a communications channel with the concealed Black Flag Corsairs waiting in orbit around Los Angeles. His strike force totaled twenty seven elite fighters and four medium interceptors. Despite Scarmans arrogance, his Corsairs were indeed a force to be reckoned with. He opened the channel to the lead Black Flag pilot; a man by the name of Jenkins who held the title of Marauder. Scarecrows war band had a rudimentary ranking system that Sayne felt was simply for egotistical purposes. The lowest rank was Rookie, then Skirmisher, then Gladiator, Marauder, Brawler and finally the Black Flag Elite topped only by the Tyrant. Sayne ignored most ranking systems, but he noted that the skill levels of the Black Flag pilots increased through the ranks, so Scarmans system wasnt as worthless as it appeared.
Jenkins, are your men ready,
Our enemies will burn, The burly Bretonians voice crackled over the communicator.
Hit the civilians; go for transports and light cargo ships; the defenseless ones.
With pleasure, Jenkins cut the link, his voice seemingly enjoying the order almost too much.
Sayne fired up his engines. This was where things got complicated.
On board the bridge of the Tuatha de Danaan, several warning icons began to blink. Captain Hans Hao looked up at the noise, raising an eyebrow.
Sir, He said as he spun his chair across to the offending console. You might want to come and take a look at this.
Fleet Admiral Merlow spun around in his command chair and looked across at the young Captain.
What is it Hans?
Ive got several new arrivals on radar, sir they just appeared out of nowhere. Hao looked over at his superior incredulously.
What, thats impossible. Merlow stood up and walked over to the console. Sure enough the monitor showed thirty one new contacts appearing around the public trade-space around Los Angeles.
Can you mark them? He demanded, looking frantically from screen to screen.
Powerful ships sir, very heavy fighters most of them. Its a random collection of ships sir, Ive never seen anything like it.
Merlow looked up at the main view screen just as another warning icon began to flash.
Weve got proximity breeches, A young Ensign reported from across the bridge.
Weve been compromised, Merlow returned to his seat and gripped the arms. Battle stations, go to red alert. Drop stealth systems and raise shields. All fighter pilots to their stations, I repeat, all fighter pilots to their stations.
The damned Black Flag Corsairs have arrived.
Several kilometers from the Danaans bridge, Marauder Jenkins drifted idly out from beneath the freighter he had been using to shield his energy signals. He rotated his Titan VHF lazily around to face the bulky transport, grinning evilly as his targeting crosshairs came to focus on the civilian ships bridge.
On board the bridge of the Ageira vessel Rising Sun, newly promoted Captain Jonathan Statham looked on in horror as the sinister form of the Titan turned to face his ship. The fighters cannons lit up like the fires of hell and in an instant, Statham was sucking vacuum. The energy bolts ripped into the bridge of the transport, ignoring the pathetic shielding and tearing directly into the heart of the command centre. One second Stathams entire world was a searing blaze before his life was cut short and the remains of his charred corpse were consumed by the following explosion. Detonations rippled through the spine of the transport, one after the other leading down its metallic hide. Then the engine cells ignited, exploding in an angry flash of blazing orange. The shockwave expanded out into space, rocking Jenkins Titan. The Marauder sniggered to himself and turned his ship away. He targeted a small civilian runabout and slammed his foot down on his thruster pedal, his snigger breaking out into a disturbed laugh.
---
Los Angeles Spaceport
Tyrant Scarman was in business. Sayne had begun his diversion, now all Marcus needed to do was hope that the quaking young Rookie he had sent packing with his blaster acted suspiciously enough to be taken in be the Freedom Fighters and questioned more thoroughly. He had given her explicit orders to act as if she knew something, so that the Bounty Hunter, Manning, would take her up to the Freedom Fighter flagship so that the Fleet Admiral could speak with her personally. It was a long shot, but Scarecrow had confidence in his knowledge of how the Freedom Fighters worked. Now dressed in the uniform of a Sadukar Soldier, he made his way across the hangar bay towards the Freedom Fighters Thunderhawk dropship. He sneered as he noticed the two Marines on guard duty. Hurst and Connors nodded curtly as their beloved Tyrant entered the transport. He strolled casually directly up the access ramp and disappeared inside the Thunderhawk. The two Brawlers looked at each other and smirked before following him inside.
Regina Delores was on the verge of crying as she ran through the compound. The M9 Enforcer felt heavy in her hand and the weight of what her Tyrant had demanded of her tugged on her shoulders. When she had joined the Black Flag Corsairs, mere months before they were dragged out of their home and thrown into this new god-forsaken universe, she had believed that life with the pirate band would be bountiful and easy. She was now wishing she had stayed at home and not defied her parents by dropping out of College. As she ran around the corner, she almost collided with a tall man wearing a long coat.
Hold it there, The man said in a deep voice. He was a Rheinlander, she could tell from his accent. He took the M9 from her and spun her around. You are one of the prisoners!
She swallowed and tried to pull herself from his grasp.
How did you get out, where were you heading! The Rheinlander demanded, shaking her by the shoulders. She said nothing, trying as best she could to betray her guilt in the look she gave him. He grunted and shoved her aside, activating a communicator at his wrist.
Reinhardt here, Ive got one of the prisoners. There has been a breakout; Im assuming the rest are free.
Alright, Ill get a team down there. A voice replied over the commlink. Instantly, an alarm klaxon began to wail.
Youll never stop the Black Flag Corsairs! Delores yelled viciously, spitting in the Rheinlanders face. He grimaced and wiped the spittle from his eyes.
Im keeping this one Kurt, He said into his communicator. Shes just referenced the Black Flag, she knows something we dont.
Take her to the Thunderhawk. The voice replied. The Rheinlander deactivated his commlink and grabbed her roughly by the arm.
You are coming with me,
Kurt Manning ran his fingers through his hair. He cursed and gripped the handrail before him, his face bathed in flashing amber light. The alarm klaxon wailed over his head, nagging at both his ears and his patience. He spun around to face the Spaceport Security Commander.
Take control of things here and keep monitoring the ships down there, if those pirates try to make for their fighters, gun them down.
I understand, The Commander said, fear evident in his eyes. Manning scowled and strode from the raised platform set slightly above the hangar bay floor, his coat swishing once again behind him.
He moved his hands beneath his long leather coat and produced his two blunt-ended plasma shotguns. The shotguns were his signature weapons, firing fragments of metal studded with plasma residue. Two blue targeting lasers beamed out from above the weapons twin barrels when he placed the slightest pressure on the triggers and with one swift spin he could cock and reload them in less than a second.
Sadukar and HiME Units, move to surround hangar bay three immediately. He spoke into a small microphone embedded in his hear. His voice echoed around the Spaceport as it was carried and transmitted through the internal intercom. He would be damned if any Black Flag Corsairs escaped on his watch.
"Darkside members, go hot!" I yelled into the reciever and 10 heavily armed Raven's Talon Very Heavy Fighters decloaked along with five fully stacked bombers loaded with almost 20 million credits worth of weapons each. "Lets teach these Freedom Fighters what we can do!"
The first salvo of bomber fire hit the side of the Freedom Fighter flagship with such force that it started to move the huge mastif of a battleship sideways but did hardly any damage, they continued to swarm the huge ship while it tried in vain to hit the ships which were far too fast for the huge ships guns to manage. They attempted to send out fighters, but they were turned to space debris faster than they could reload their weapons.
"Darkside Bravo Company! Assemble on my Port wing, Alpha Company! Assemble on my Starboard wing, re-route all your ships systems to weapons and open fire on the area we agreed on!" I didn't say over comms, or else Merlow would have re-routed shields to that area. The salvo penetrated the shields and hit the junction. It erupted in fire and debris. "A friendly present from your old pal Robert! Sayne f***in' Jadyn!"
The Darkside members erupted in applause as plasma and depleted oxygen vented to space. I flicked several switches as the huge ship opened fire on my ship and my ship alone. I grabbed a hold of the ships controls and wrenched hard to the right, banking away from the plasma that shot past, superheated to the tempature of the sun. Cursing my own luck I hit a few more switches, re-routed power to engines and tilted the ship down to a steep angle and flew under the ships line of sight, launching torpedos at the belly of the ship and watched as the shields buckled more and more with each explosion.
"How do you like that Marcus?" I said with a smile to myself.
Wing Commander Liz Gaunt dashed across the bustling hangar bay towards her stationary ASF-X2a Typhoon. The interceptor sat on its landing struts, the canopy open and beckoning to her. It had been too long since she had fought in open combat and she was almost high on adrenaline. Her wing, the Freedom Fighters renowned Umbra flight group had been engaged with the Zeta during the battle of Omicron Alpha almost a year ago. During that battle, most of Umbra had been dragged through the rift in time and space along with the rest of the fleet. Several hadnt made it however, and it still stung Liz even after such a long time. She jumped into her cockpit and powered up the main drive. She paused for a moment and stroked the picture of WC Stuart Beech. He smiled up at her, as he always did. Beech had been her lover back in their home universe, and her Commanding Officer. During the battle for Omicron Alpha however, he had disappeared without a trace. Even now Admiral Marcus Scarman, who had once flown with Umbra himself, had returned, no light had been shed on what had happened to Stuart.
She took a deep breath and sealed her cockpit, waiting as the canopy folded over and slotted into position. She powered up her main systems and charged her weapons cells. The Typhoons powerful Avenger cannons gave an angry whine as raw energy pulsed through their power converters, hungry for the enemy.
Flight control, this is Umbra, requesting a clear exit. She voxed her clearance across to the command deck, gripping her fighters controls in anticipation.
Roger that Umbra one, you are clear for exit, good luck out there.
Liz gunned her engine and her Typhoon lifted off its landing struts, the narrow legs folding and retracting back inside their berths on the hangar floor. She eased the throttle and moved her ship out into the centre of the hangar bay. The massive twin bulkheads set in the floor began to slide apart as warning sirens began to wail. Skillfully, Gaunt dropped her fighter out into space, missing the opening bulkheads by mere inches. She was followed by five other fighters; the remainder of Umbra flight.
Umbra report in, She spoke into her wing channel.
Two standing by, The voice of Dan Rosenthal, brother of the late Umbra veteran Jake Rosenthal reported neatly over her speakers.
Umbra three is in the green, Replied the voice of Flight Lieutenant Chris Andrew.
Umbra four locked and loaded, Pete Abrahams, Umbra four, was a bold young pilot who had been fresh from the academy just before the battle against the Zeta.
Five standing by, Umbra five was under the operation of another young Flight Lieutenant by the name of Yorke. Charlotte Yorke had graduated from West Point as the top fighter pilot in her class, earning gold stars with flying Patriots, Defenders and Elite Defenders.
Six, reporting in, The last pilots voice to reply over Gaunts earpieces was another young woman called Samantha Hardy. Hardy was a veteran of Kodiak flight, Umbras sister squadron who had been totally destroyed during the Freedom Fighters conflict with the divided Federal Republic of the Sigmas, back in their home dimension. She had joined the Freedom Fighters at the same point as Gaunt, back in the Imperial Conflict.
All fighters move into attack position, inverse V. Gaunt ordered over her commlink. Lets take down these bastards.
Umbra listen up, The voice of Fleet Admiral Merlow crackled over all of the Typhoons commlinks. You will shortly be joined by Able flight as soon as they are kitted out. Your first priority is protecting the civilian transports under attack by the Black Flag Corsairs. We can hold off the hostiles here for the moment.
Understood sir, Gaunt spun her ship around to face the distant flashes of the combat taking place by the Los Angeles docking ring. Umbra, converge on my new targets, best possible speed.
Kurt Manning sprinted down the corridor, his two shotguns clasped tightly in his hands. The security breech alarm wailed in the background, flashing amber light throughout the corridor. The escaped Black Flag Corsairs were running riot throughout the station, after raiding the armoury. Dark Angel Reinhardt had managed to capture one of them, but now the others were stuck in an intense firefight with the Spaceport Security Guards in their attempt to escape. Two had been spotted pinned down in one of the luggage handling zones whilst the other two had last been spotted near one of the civilian staging areas. Admiral Wilder had lead a team of Sadukar Soldiers off in search of the two missing BFC Pilots whilst Kurt and one of the HiME Agents sped off to aid the Guards pinned down in the luggage bay.
Kurt spun around the next corner and slammed the butt of his left shotgun into the door control mechanism. The large double doors leading into the handling bay began to crank themselves open, creaking as they went. Kurt sped through the slowly widening gap, both his shotguns raised before him. A barrage of laser fire lanced above his head, forcing him down into a swift roll before taking cover behind a stack of luggage backs and briefcases.
Damn it, He cursed as he stole a glance around the baggage. Another burst of laser fire smacked into the assortment of bags, ripping some apart and scattering fragments of fabrics in all directions.
Kurt leaned out and with his right hand angled his shotgun at the source of the aggression. He squeezed the trigger and a blast of superheated metal fragments tore from the weapons twin barrels. The shrapnel hit a similar stack of luggage near the enemy position and spouted a similar cloud of shredded clothing and other material.
Give yourselves up, Kurt shouted as he ducked back into cover. Youre trapped,
Go to hell Freedom Fighter! A mans voice shouted in retaliation. So they knew the Freedom Fighters, perhaps the Black Flag Corsairs had more depth to them than the Fleet Admiral suspected.
Fine by me, Kurt growled, looking to his left. He spotted another stack of bags and broke cover. More fire cut up the ground behind him as he ran, cracking the concrete of the warehouse floor. He dove at the last minute, dodging a volley from the two pirates and managed to successfully shield himself behind the bags. The HiME Agent had disappeared, no doubt flanking their position with exact precision and stealth. If Manning couldnt get to them in time, at least he would provide a good distraction whilst the HiME operative took them out from behind. He glanced across the room and saw a number of dead Spaceport Guards. Great
The fact that he was alone didnt sway him in the slightest. He looked away from the corpses and leaned back out of cover. He fired his shotguns at the enemy, shredding more bags. He fired them again and again, moving out of cover and sprinting across to another stack of luggage. Soon the air inside the handling bay was thick with slowly drifting scraps of leather and fabric; the only remains of the ruins of peoples luggage.
---
Klaus Reinhardt rushed the pirate into the Thunderhawk, forcing her roughly into one of the drop-seats.
Sit there and stay quiet, He said, glancing across at the others. A number of marines and Sadukar Soldiers were already on board, waiting for lift off. He turned around and looked back out of the Thunderhawks entrance. There was no sign of Kurt.
Reinhardt to Manning, He opened a channel to the bounty hunter using his wrist communicator.
Manning here, The other mans voice crackled over the speaker, the sound of laser fire in the background.
The Thunderhawk is ready Kurt, should I wait for you?
No its fine, Im a little busy here myself. Admiral Wilder and I will catch the next flight, Manning out.
The link went dead from the other side. Klaus shut the commlink down and spun on his heel, making for one of the drop-seats. Tyrant Scarman adjusted his mask as the Rheinlander strode past, turning away from him as he went. Soon he would be on the Freedom Fighter Flagship. Soon Sayne Jadyns plan would fall into effect and the lives of his alternate self and Robert Merlow would be extinguished.
The Thunderhawk fell to rest on its landing struts, hydraulic gasses depressurizing in large columns of steam venting out into the atmosphere of the hangar bay area. The main access ramp fell down to the deck with a clang and a number of marines began walking out. Klaus Reinhardt exited the ramp with a young woman in tow. Her wrists were binded and she had a nasty bruise on the side of her head. A detail of internal security marines met him as he strode down the ramp, supporting stubbers and shock-sticks.
Take this prisoner down to the brig, Reinhardt ordered, shoving the woman over to them roughly. I will be down to question her shortly.
Understood sir, Two of the marines broke off, the pirate in between them. They made across the hangar for the large exit and briskly marched her off down one of the corridors. The other marines began mingling with the troopers coming off the transport, some friends reuniting, others curious to hear about what had gone on down on the surface. Several of the Sadukar Units marched directly past the hub of activity and made directly for the hangar exit. Klaus couldnt blame them; they probably had new duties of their own to attend too.
Alright come on, you can talk over a hot coffee in the canteen later, He yelled over the crowd, Get back to your posts, everyone. Those who came up on the Thunderhawk with me report to your nearest duty post for a new assignment.
His orders met a number of groans and complaints, as many of the Freedom Fighters didnt like being ordered around by a lone mercenary. But Admiral Scarman had vouched for the Rheinlander, so the others had no choice but to obey.
Reinhardt watched them break up and start walking towards the exit, some of them still walking in couples, talking about the action down at the Spaceport. Reinhardt sighed and shook his head, turning back to the Thunderhawk. The pilot stood in the doorway, awaiting orders.
Get her refueled and rearmed, ready for another drop. Reinhardt said.
Understood sir, The pilot replied before turning back around into his ship.
At that moment, Reinhardt communicator began to chime. He pulled up his sleeve and activated it, Reinhardt here,
Klaus, this is Kurt. Mannings voice replied over the speaker. We have reason to believe some of the Black Flag Corsairs smuggled themselves on board your Thunderhawk. I want you to check every single marine and Sadukar Soldier you flew with.
Klaus froze, staring across at the hangar bay exit. ****.
Im on it, He cut the communicator and began to sprint across the hangar bay towards the exit.
---
Somewhere on board the Tuatha de Danaan,
Tyrant Marcus Scarman ducked down into the maintenance hatch and closed it behind him. Hurst and Connors crouched next to him, their two carbines loaded and ready. Marcus plan was going better than he expected, but he knew that he mustnt let it get to his head.
Weve played the Freedom Fighters on the surface into our hands, but they arent stupid, He began, his voice a whisper. We have the advantage of them not knowing we were in the Spaceport in the first place, but if those four incompetent idiots I freed down on the planet manage to escape, the Freedom Fighters will think of all possible escape routes. One of them is the Thunderhawk we came aboard.
What must we do, Hurst asked, the devotion in her eyes plain for Scarman to see.
I will remove this uniform and find my way to the Senators chambers, the sacrifice I ask of you two will not be in vain.
Anything my lord and Tyrant, Connors bowed his head.
Elude the Freedom Fighters; take the trail if an investigation is undertaken on board this vessel. If you are caught you must not make any hint of my presence on board! To do so would compromise this entire mission.
Your will is understood, Hurst said, turning back to the maintenance hatch. Marcus placed his hand on her shoulder.
You are both dear to me, of late my trust for my pilots has been dropping, but you are prize examples of excellent Black Flag Corsairs. You do not understand how it pains me to lose you.
We will do you proud Tyrant Scarman, With that, Connors and Hurst made their way back through the hatch and out into the corridor. Hurst closed the hatch behind her and Marcus found himself alone in the dark once more.
---
Los Angeles orbit,
Liz Gaunt slammed two Phoenix missiles into the spinning Black Flag Corsair. The Sabre had been damaged in her previous volley and now was open to a direct assault. The explosion of the detonating ship rocked her cockpit as she blasted through the fire. Adrenaline surged through her blood as she swooped around in her agile Typhoon to face another of the pirate fighters. A blood red Titan bore down on her from above, its numerous weapons lighting up the darkness of space. Gaunt gripped her control sticks as plasma fire lanced across her bows, rocking her ship violently.
Umbra five this is Umbra leader, Im under heavy fire!
I see you Commander, Im moving to assist. Charlotte Yorkes voice crackled over the communicator.
Several clicks away, Yorke spun her Typhoon around in the direction of her squadron leader. She saw the Titan spraying fire in every direction and the small shape of Gaunts Typhoon swing from side to side as she avoided the flak. Charlotte growled to herself and kicked her thruster pedal. In an instant the top speed of her Typhoon was boosted to almost triple its regular speed. The interceptor dived down in the direction of the enemy fighter, its cannons blazing as it went. Avenger fire tore into the aft section of the Titan and set of a series of miniature explosions. The Black Flag Corsair pulled away, trailing smoke.
Thanks Charlotte, Gaunts voice spoke over the comm., I owe you one,
---
Los Angeles orbit,
Sayne Jyant Jadyn grinned with glee at the carnage the Black Flag Corsairs were creating over at the docking ring. He flew his Ravens Talon down below the underbelly of the Tuatha de Danaan once more and strafed across the underside with a barrage of deadly plasma fire. One of the Danaans defensive turrets exploded in an angry fireball as a couple of his missiles slammed into it.
All too easy, He said under his breath as he came out of the other side. His sense of victory was short-lived however as he saw a fleet of Liberty ships heading directly for him.
Jadyn to all Darkside fighters, the local law enforcement has decided to include themselves. Sayne gritted his teeth as a wing of Patriots fired across his bow.
Commander, the Freedom Fighter ship is also spewing out more fighters! Sayne checked his aft monitor and saw that a second wing of Typhoons was launching from the Danaans hangar bay.
Damn it,
Sayne, Sayne, His communicator crackled. He looked down at his communications unit and saw that the hail was coming in on a secure channel; the secure channel he had set up with Tyrant Scarman only hours before.
Scarman, you better have good news for me, He said as he slammed his fist down on the receiver.
I have infiltrated the Freedom Fighter vessel; you may pull off your attack. Scarecrows voice grated through the speakers.
Not a moment too soon either, Sayne said bitterly as he looked up in time to see a Liberty Cruiser drop out of the trade lane. He switched channels and spoke again into his commlink. This is Jadyn to all Darkside and Black Flag Corsair pilots, our goal has been achieved, pull back immediately.
After a series of confirmations, Sayne spun his ship around to face the planet. He boosted his speed and slammed on his thruster pedal. Whilst his comrades scattered all around to divert the aim of the Liberty forces, he would stealthily make his way back down to the planets surface using a little atmosphere-skimming technique he had picked up back in the last dimension. Grinning to himself, Sayne made his way back to Los Angeles. His plan was coming along nicely.
Commander David Sinclair looked out of the forward viewport in puzzlement at the large vessel orbiting Los Angeles several thousand kilometers off the bow of his own ship. It looked similar to a standard Liberty Dreadnought, although its pattern was subtly different. It seemed to look sleeker, more streamlined and was a darker toned of blue / grey. The words Tuatha de Danaan were visible across her prow, a name Sinclair wasnt familiar with within the Liberty Navy, unless she was an experimental vessel.
Either way, Sinclair didnt like the situation and intended to get some answers for himself. He turned to his helmsmen and asked for a situation report.
Whats the status on those pirate vessels? He asked, scratching his chin.
They are fleeing sir; shall I order our gunships to pursue? The young helmsman spun in his chair to face his Commander.
Negative, it would just waste resources. I want to know more about that ship there, He indicated the Danaan, Can you raise her?
As far as I can see Commander, they are using as standard communication channels as any.
Ok, patch me through, He waited a moment before the helmsman nodded. He turned to the front of the bridge and took in a deep breath.
This is Commander David Sinclair of the LNS Prometheus, identify yourselves.
The communicae came over the main speaker, turning most of the heads on the Danaans bridge.
Admiral, the cruiser is coming about to face us, her gun ports are all open and trained on us. Ensign Powell reported from her console.
Oh great, Fleet Admiral Merlow sighed.
It was bound to happen sooner or later, Marcus tried to comfort him.
Id rather it have been later, Merlow turned around. Marcus, in the absence of Admiral Shaytan Im appointing you liaison officer, congratulations.
Never a better time sir, Marcus said through gritted teeth. He turned to the helm and sat down in the command chair. Patch me through,
The face of a ageing man wearing a Liberty Navy uniform, one slightly different to the uniforms of Scarecrows home dimension, appeared on the screen looking slightly disgruntled.
This is Admiral Marcus Scarman of the LNS Tuatha de Danaan, I hear you Commander Sinclair.
State your identification, immediately. Sinclair said, looking slightly angry.
I think hes pissed, Ensign Powell whispered from her console.
Constructive input, as always Ensign. Marcus replied, Commander, it is good to meet you. We have a lot to discuss.
---
Tyrant Marcus Scarman stole quietly throughout the decks of the Freedom Fighter flagship. After consulting a ship layout map, he had a vague idea of where the guest suites were, and thus where Senator Scarman was. There had been no alarms, no sound of gunfire. He could only assume that the Freedom Fighters either hadnt realized that there had been three Sadukar Soldiers missing, or were conducting a search discreetly. Still, he had every faith in his Brawlers. Connors and Hurst would be nearby, keeping to the shadows at all times, ready to divert any attention away from him.
With a hiss, the door before him slid back into its berth. According to the layout plans of the ship, he was now somewhere amidships, near the command staffs quarters. All of the command staff was on the bridge, so Marcus had no worries of bumping into anyone on his travels. He had avoided a couple of Navy personnel and FF troops moving throughout the decks, but had encountered no confrontations.
He deftly made his way down the corridor before him, taking care to move quickly and quietly. In the exposed well lit corridors, there was no hiding. Only speed would be able to save him should he be discovered. He turned the corner at the end of the room and entered a wider area, with a number of doors leading off around the edges. Each door carried a digit just above its frame. One of the doors was open, a young girl standing right in front of it with her back turned to him. He halted stone dead out in the open, looking frantically for somewhere to hide.
Heather, a voice called from inside. Dont wander too far Heather, this is a dangerous place.
Yes mommy, The little girl turned around, an exasperated expression on her face. He caught sight of Scarman standing in the entrance to the corridor and paused for a moment. Marcus felt a rising sense of self hatred at the forethought of what he must do, but he was cut off. The girl suddenly smiled and waved and began skipping jovially down the opposite corridor. Quite puzzled, Marcus watched her go. Once she had turned the corner, he advanced across to the open doorway and entered.
He quietly walked through the main entrance, noting the fresh sense of cleanliness as he entered. It was a stark contrast to his damp, unwashed flight suit. He entered the main space of the quarters and saw a neatly made bed with a carry case spread out on its pristine covers. A photo frame stood on the bed side table, next to a dim reading light. The quarters were simple, not lived in. The doors of a wardrobe built into the wall on the other side of the bed were ajar with a number of suits and dresses showing in hangars. The sound of someone singing to themselves was drifting out from another bulkhead to his right along with thin wisps of warm steam. A water shower! Marcus hadnt had a shower with real water for a lot longer than he could remember. He walked over to the bulkhead and held out his hand towards the control.
He paused however as he saw the picture beside the bed. Turning away, he walked around the bed and picked it up. It showed an attractive young woman wearing a cute wedding dress with her arms draped lovingly around a tall, handsome young man. It took Marcus several seconds to realize that he was looking at himself. The Tyrant snarled at the image of his alternate-self. The man was tall and straight, wearing a well pressed suit and tie. He was clean shaven and had a neat comb-over, but still retained a look of youthful energy beneath his eyes. He was a stark contrast to the shaggy Scarecrow that stood intruding in his quarters. Tyrant Marcus Scarman hadnt had a shave in many months and was supporting a large beard that looked even scraggier thanks to his long, matted hair. His scar was visible, running down his right eye and his skin was pale and unhealthy. He would have to look into his appearance later. For the moment, he had more pressing matters to attend too. Turning, Tyrant Scarman dropped the photo frame and made for the bulkhead. A dark grin crossing his features, he pressed his thumb against the door controls. Silently, he entered the steam filled bathroom, the bulkhead clicking shut behind him.
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