The hulks of the Rheinland fleet from the 80-years-war floated through the blue mist as they had all these years, only a small fraction looted even after all this time. It was possible to spend a lifetime among the wrecks and never finish studying all of them. Some held treasures worth millions others contained little more than scrap metal. Secreted amongst the ruins of wars past, laid a Dragon fighter, missing both wings and all its guns. The power core was barely operational, and the engines worked, and that was about it.
The CSV floated in space before it, the view screen panning over it as Jason haggled with the elderly Junker who was missing a few teeth and brain cells, Jason thought bitterly. The man had obviously not been born yesterday, as he was as hard a bargainer as Jason had ever met. Finally they reached a price, and Jason forked over quite a few credits; quite frankly, he felt a little cheated. However, he didnt have time to quibble. The Junker mounted the pilot chair, and fired up the large tractor beam employed by salvagers moving large pieces of junk. It latched onto the Dragon, and dragged it back to Yanagi, where Jason forked over some more cash to get it up and working.
Once it was set up, Jason climbed in and launched, heading for what the ships memory core told him was the Chugoku jump hole. He piloted there, past a few GMG patrols that paid him no mind. Through the jump hole, into an asteroid field that was filled with some dark blue dust; the occasional bolt of plasma lightning as some stray negative and positive charged particles sparked in a chain reaction. A few Dragon ships patrolled the space, but they left him alone. On the surface, he looked like any other Blood Dragon.
Thus he found himself on the landing pad of Kyoto, where someone finally took a closer look at his ship. And realized that it had been declared missing five weeks ago. Soon, he got a warm Blood Dragon welcome. Which was to say that the pad was swarmed by troops, brandishing large guns and demanding he come out with his hands up. They were also demanding to know what the ship was doing back here. Jason sighed, and wondered idly why this always seemed to happen to him.
Jason walked out of the ship with a rueful smile on his face, hands up, identification papers in his right hand. They were flipped open so that everyone could see the large insignia of the Hellfire Legion first, just in case one or two of them was trigger happy. A few lowered their weapons, faces expressionless. A few others lowered their weapons with open disappointment painted all over their features. But Jason didnt care, as long as they all lowered their guns. One of them signs of rank on his chest showing him to be in command walked up and took the identification papers, and perused them.
Mind explaining what youre doing with that ship? he asked finally, looking up from the papers.
Well now, I needed a way onto this base, and it was the fastest way.
He glanced once more down at the papers, and then motioned for Jason to follow him. The soldiers that had come out of the woodwork dispersed in groups of two or three, chatting amiably amongst themselves. The man led him to a side door of a nearby building, opening it and signaling that Jason should go through first. He walked in, and immediately got a prickling feeling between his shoulder blades. The Blood Dragon slid into the hallway that was beyond the door, and closed the door softly behind him.
Memories of that Golden Chrysanthemum had Jason a little high strung, so he walked with his head half-turned to watch the man behind him. Once he noticed what Jason was doing, the Blood Dragon gave him a toothy grin that looked sinister in the dimly lit hallway. On the third door to the left, the Blood Dragon motioned him to enter. Jason passed the threshold, and the door closed behind him. The Blood Dragon did not enter.
It was an office or at least appeared to be an office. Bookshelves lined the walls to Jasons left and right, and the normal desk facing the door was there. It was an elaborate piece of wood, well crafted. The man that sat behind it was definitely of Kusari origins, and slightly overweight. He sat, considering Jason over steepled fingers.
Mr. Moore, I take it?
Jason nodded at the usual way people addressed him.
Well then. Let me be the first to inform you that the Hellfire Legion has a warrant out for your return, which just hit my mailbox.
Jason started eying the door, wishing he could be through it.
Do not bother. I have no intention of returning you. Do you want to know what the charges are?
I have a feeling youre gonna tell me Jason had a sinking feeling.
From a capacious sleeve of the robe he was wearing, the man produced a paper and read off of it. Major Jason Moore, of the Hellfire Legion, is henceforth wanted for being suspected of Nomad contamination. Approach with extreme caution. He paused, waiting for a reaction, but not a flicker of an eye lash betrayed Jasons innermost thoughts. Inside, though, was another matter.
Now, you may wonder why I am talking to you with such heinous charges against you, he seemed to find the use of the word heinous funny.
Let me tell you why, he said, and his eyes started glowing blue.
So, the fat Nomad-infected Blood Dragon said, leveraging himself up from his seat with both hands on the tabletop. Either this accusation is true, or youre about to die.
Jason didnt know he was backing up until he hit the door. He put his left hand on the knob and tried to turn it, but of course it was locked. The fat man was now around the table; there was nothing in between them anymore. He took two steps forward, and then cocked his head to the side, as if listening to something far off. After a few seconds of this silent commune, his head whipped back around to face Jason.
Get out of my sight, he spat, retreating to back behind his desk.
Jason tried the door knob again and it opened. Outside in the hallway, he shut the door and walked back out the way he had come. The Blood Dragon that had brought him there was gone.
What was that? What just happened? Jason thought for the hundredth time. Outside of the building, he could do nothing but shake at the memory. What had he been listening too? What had it said, and why had he left him alone? The occasional Dragon walked past, shooting worried glances at Jason. He realized he was talking under his breath, and stopped it. Gathering himself mentally, he set off to find the main spaceport bar.
He walked in to the dimly lit establishment, rows of tables to his right, bartender to his left. All he did was pivot and take a step forward, before putting his hands on the counter slowly. The man looked up, and then did a double take. Jasons face was a thunderhead.
The last two times, he whispered, the note of anger impossible to miss, Ive gotten directions, Ive killed both of the men that gave them to me. Now, so you dont make the same mistake, if you so much as twitch, Im gonna put a fist through your face. Got it?
The bartender gulped and nodded, eager to show that he was going to do nothing. Eager to show he didnt want a fist in his face.
Good. Now, tell me what I want to know.
I was shown a picture of you, and told to tell you to go to these coordinates in T-tohuko. He rattled off a sequence of numbers. Jason got out a piece of paper and told him to repeat himself. Once he had them written down, he stormed out, hopeful that he could finish this once and for all.
Jason crashed into the seat of his refurbished Dragon. How many hours without sleep? How many wounds had stolen his energy? The very thought made a yawn crack his jaws. How much longer could he hold it? Not too long now. The Nomad was going to be the death of him, yet. His eyes started sliding close, but he fought. His arms were leaden; he couldnt take the controls of the ship, or even start it. Appearing menacing for that bartender had taken the last of his strength. Oh, what the hell this is gonna hurt
* * * * *
It was the same white room, if room it was. Space was a better word, but not in the sense of outer space that we have. Just space. Jason stood in the middle or at least he didnt stand near the edge and this time, the Nomad stood in front of him. Though its body spoke of being able to double up on itself to squeeze through a rat hole, it stood with its back straight, majestic and proud. It looked at Jason in what best could be described as a malevolent gaze.
So, was all Jason said.
You cannot stop sleeping, and you know it.
Yeah, well Ive been doing some thinking, Jason began. You need me. The Nomad tossed its head in defiance, the sort of thing a horse might do. Jasons mind remained silent of its telepathy.
You need me, he repeated, more sure now. Because if I die, you die. You dont have some body to slither out of me, this is all you got. So, as much as I hate you and hate doing this, I think a truce, the word grated in his mouth, is in both of our best interests.
Agreed. It was projected in such a way as a curse might be, more spat than said.
Do you know what happened with that Nomad-infested Blood Dragon?
A moment of silence, then, Yes. He was going to kill you, and I couldnt let this happen. I am stuck here, for good, most assuredly.
Jason grimaced but nodded. Well then. I suppose you can see what I see and all that? Can you talk to me, when Im awake.
It would require trust, as I would have some control, which neither of us has. As it is, I am borrowing your knowledge heavily to communicate like this.
However much that disturbed Jason, he knew that he could do little to stop it. He shook his head, and somehow stepped out of the white space, into sleep. Only a moment he had to consider that he was asleep, how was that not sleep? before the dreams washed over him. The watching blue eyes followed.
Jason awoke with an odd feeling. He shook it off, and launched from Kyoto, deciding to go to Tohuko and check it out.
The Dragons cruise engines purred like a kitten while Jason wrestled with the controls, heading to a remote area of a remote system. Not his idea of a fun time. He closed within five klicks and shut down the entire ship, using his momentum to travel forward; he didnt want his energy readings to tell them he was coming. Whoever they were. Too many questions and not enough answers to suit Jason.
Out the window, he saw Tohuko, but he didnt see any ship. He was within two klicks now. Wait a minute, what was that? Squinting, in the distance he saw a Luxury Liner, or a Prison Liner, no way to tell from this distance without the scanners. He switched them on off of battery power, and looked at the strangest Luxury Liner he had ever seen. While structurally it was a Luxury Liner, it had the shielding and armor of a battleship. The turrets had also been switched out for battleship-grade turrets, and the power core had been ripped out and a new one a heavier one had been put in to support it all.
A communique came in; informing him he had clearance to land on the forward section. Well now, this must be the place. Aligning the docking clamps, he latched on and barely waited for the umbilical to pressurize before boarding. With his gun in hand, of course. He had been through too much in the past few weeks to even come close to feeling safe boarding a strange ship on the back end of forever. The hallways were stark and quiet, he was their only occupant. This was too much like the Liberty Cruiser to suit him. The same corridor went on for what seemed forever, until it ended with a wooden door, of all things. This entire way, the doors had been either removed or had never been there. This was the first one he had seen.
Shrugging off the feeling of an ambush, he carefully turned the knob and went in. The room was half shrouded in dark, the half opposite Jason. In the darkness was the faint outline of a desk and a person sitting behind it. All that showed was his eyes, seeming to reflect the faint light. They were glowing, but not blue, Jason noticed with a sigh.
Mr. Moore. Ive waited a long time for this moment. It was a deep voice, used to command.
I suppose youre the son of a bitch that framed me, correct? Jason said without introduction.
No. However, I have stood to benefit greatly from it. He leaned forward some, still a long way from the barrier of light and dark, an unnaturally straight line.
Oh really, he said, taking a few steps forward. Hows that?
Mr. Moore, do not plead stupidity. It is so unbecoming of you. If anything, the man seemed amused. We both know that you were genetically enhanced to fight Nomads by those pigs in the LSF. Whoever framed you knew that too.
Something in Jasons mind growled at that; the Nomad wasnt best pleased, for whatever reason.
However, he continued, what you dont know is that youre unique. The prototype, and the only one ever made.
Jason gave a wry chuckle. Oh really, was all he said again.
Yes. About a year after you were changed, the old director of the project met an unexpected demise. The new director didnt like the way the old one had been working with the Order, so he cut the project off before it blew up in his face. A stupid man. If Copeland had known, hadnt been too busy, the new director would never have even become a director. Suffice to say, if he could have killed you, he would have. But instead he just wiped your memory and returned you to the LPI, where youve been wasting your talents taking down petty criminals.
Jason wasnt surprised it all made sense. However, the Holocaust had made sense to Hitler. Watergate had made sense to Nixon. Just because it made sense didnt mean it was necessarily right.
So, thats it? I was framed to get me kicked out of the LPI, so whoever wanted could just hire me?
Precisely. Whoever got you kicked out has thus far not acted, unless it was the Hellfire Legion, which I somehow doubt. So, Ive been testing you and now am offering you to work for me.
Jason shook his head, slowly backing to the door. Thanks but no thanks. Im happy with where I am. The door slammed shut and the sound of the bolt going home on the outside was clearly audible.
The man rose. Would you like to see my face? he all but whispered. All of the sudden Jason had a cold pit of ice in his stomach. The man took a step forward. Jason hadnt realized he was backing up until his back hit the door. Dammit, why does this keep happening?!
He took another step, and was on the edge of the darkness. His right leg rose to step over the boundary.
He stepped over the boundary, and Jason was shocked to see his ex-partner, Samantha Taylor. Hello, Jason, she said, voice suddenly back to that of a woman. She must have been using a voice modifier. Jason, for one, was dumbstruck. She had been his partner since his old one had died a week after he got back from the LSF. Coincidence? Not very likely. She stood there, five-foot-six-inches, deep auburn hair cut at the shoulders. Her blue eyes twinkled in her smooth face, the look an old friend would give after being apart for a long time.
I was set to watch you and report on any side effects by the people I work for. Someone else did strike first, though.
Jason just gave a small laugh and looked skyward a moment. His focus reattached itself to her. What next?
That, my friend, depends entirely on you.
In that case he said, turning to the door.
That wont do you any good, she said, before he could finish turning.
And why not? he faces here again.
Because as soon as you entered this room, we forcibly removed the docking clamps on your ship and blew it up. Her voice could have been talking about how the weather was going to be.
He just smiled, the sad smile of someone who had known he was cornered, but couldnt help trying one last time to escape the evident trap.
The fat file slammed on Aralies desk. It was messy and unkempt, more from lack of time than will to clean. On the top of the folder, next to Name, was Jason Moore. A few loose papers poked out occasionally, and Aralie raised his head to meet the eyes of the small man that had been tasked with tracking Moore down.
Well? Aralie asked, prompting him to tell what had happened.
We found his ship, the Cassandra, docked on Freeport Six. From there, basic detective work discovered that he had stowed away on a freighter bound for Kyushu, but it was hijacked en route and flown to Ainu. There he killed a woman, and took the freighter to Kyushu, by the planetary tracking system. Then he fell off the radar, and reappeared on Kyoto with a Dragon fighter, and then he was logged as leaving, destination set as Tohoku. From there, nothing. His annoyingly high-pitched voice made it sound like there was something else, and Aralie prompted him with a hand gesture to continue.
OK, so there were some odd residual readings in the area, as if a capital ship had recently operated at full battle-readiness in the area. We tracked the trail to some Unknown system leading to Nomad space, but thats where it was overlapped with several Nomad-type signatures, and they were big.
So were to assume that Moore was on the the whatever it was, and was attacked by Nomads? Aralie asked, seeing if he had the right of it.
Exactly. If he wasnt infected already, he is now. Id say by past Nomad encounters that hes more than likely dead. With your permission? asks the aide, holding up a stamp that they put on peoples files when theyre presumed dead. Aralie stared at the stamp for some time, and quickly nodded his head the affirmative. The stamp hit the folder with a deafening sound.
Jason knew one thing. He had to get away. Fast. He had the feeling that he had been maneuvered into a corner that he didnt want to be in. The door behind him was almost definitely locked, but it couldnt be the only way in. There was probably a door in the unnatural darkness of the other side of the room. He glanced behind Sam, who immediately picked up on it. She smiled wickedly at him.
Well Sam, Jason says, taking a step forward. Its been nice knowing you, but I think Id best be going now
The smile turned into a laugh. You think its that easy, do you Jason? Were not going to just let you go like that. When I said that depends on you, I meant that whether you go to our labs on a stretcher or walking depended on you.
Jason slightly shifts his balance, but Sam knew better. It was the precursor for one of his attacks, much like a landslide attacks the village at the bottom of a mountain. She prepares herself, and he rushes forward, right hook coming out to hit her in the stomach or at least where her stomach was, before she took two quick steps backwards, into the darkness.
Afraid of the dark, old friend?
Not a chance. Jason walks into the dark, and quickly trips over something that is only a few inches off the ground. Apparently it was sort of a trap, with unseen pitfalls awaiting the unwary step. Her rich laugh spurred him on, but he knew that she had probably memorized the floor and all its snares. There was no way he could win.