Quatermain settled down for a long recitation. He didn't bother to hide anything he knew. After all, if his escape pod had survived the attack for them to recover it, the ship's holo-logs might have survived as well. If he started out by lying to them, things could only go from mediocre to bad in a hurry. Whatever the real situation was outside that door, this odd man and his friends were currently holding all the cards, and Quatermain had no intention of bluffing when he didn't even know what was in his own hand.
Half an hour later he had summed up the entirety of what he knew about his ill-fated mission to hunt for diamonds in the Omegas.
"And that's when those cannibals' ships came out of nowhere and blew my ship to smithereens."
He casually looked over at the man to gauge his reaction to his tale.
"And how do you know they were Corsairs, Mr. Quatermain?"
"Cause they sure weren't Hessians! Red Hessians always try to rob you first before they atomize whatever ain't useful. They're too poor to just fly about blowing useful resources into space dust. And there couldn't have been anyone else that deep into the Omegas other than Corsairs and Hessians. So it's simple deduction, friend."
The odd man said nothing and just gazed back into Quatermain's eyes.
After two minutes of silence, Quatermain decided to give in.
"Alright then, who was it that destroyed my ship and slaughtered my team?"
"Das Wilde, Mr. Quatermain."
The recognition in Quatermain's eyes confirmed 2.5 terrabytes worth of rumors, speculation, and gossip hacked from Liberty's security networks.
"You've heard of them, then" said the man.
Quatermain swallowed, and suddenly had the feeling that perhaps he really was on a Lane Hacker base, and perhaps that wasn't as good a thing as he thought it was.
"There have been very hush-hush rumors floating around the security nets for a long time that use that name. No one with any rank will ever discuss it other than to just call it gossip, and no one with any public credibility will ever so much as say the word."
Quatermain's gaze bored right into the painted stone wall at the foot of his bed.
"What the frak were those Interspace Commerce idiots thinking to send us into a system infested with those...creatures. They had initial intel reports...they must have known someth..." His sentence died off and he turned to look the man directly in the eyes.
"They did know what we were going into, didn't they? Those blasted mongrels knew, and they sent us in anyway just to line their own pockets."
The man smiled.
"Your perception is just one array short of a network, Mr. Quatermain. This was never about diamonds. It was always about something else entirely, and the credits are just a sideshow to the main event."
Quatermain's eyes narrowed dangerously and his voice dropped to a whisper.
"Then what's the main event?"
The man leaned forward.
"I suggest you talk to Joshua Crews about that, Mr. Quatermain."
Quatermain gripped the IV needle in his right hand, and casually slid it out of his vein.
"I intend to. Now if you don't mind, I need to borrow a ship, and a bottle of your best painkillers."
Allan Quatermain entered the docking bay of the Lane Hacker complex and was only mildly surprised to find an "Executioner" Fighter sitting on a launch pad waiting for him.
He arched an eyebrow at the odd man who had questioned him, but wasted no time on pointless inquiries as to the ship's origins. Certain practical details were another matter.
"The Liberty Authorities do at least attempt to track the combat ships that they produce. How exactly am I supposed to explain showing up in one out of the clear blue, especially when I am supposed to be dead?"
The odd man smiled mysteriously.
"It is quite simple, Agent Quatermain: You have been on an undercover assignment for a long time and have only recently been recalled to your "official" duties in the Liberty Security Force. I suggest that you use your anonymity and security clearance in the LSF to find the answers that Joshua Crews is so carefully concealing. I am sure your long experience and natural proclivities can take care of the rest. You shall find all the proper documentation on board your ship. Good day, and good hunting."
Without another word, the man turned around and left the docking bay.
After so many years of striving to be prepared for anything to happen at any moment, Allan Quatermain still found himself off guard due to the past hour's events. But he also knew that standing around like an idiot wouldn't bring him any more answers to his questions.
"Joshua Crews has the answers to the real questions," he grimly whispered to himself.
He strapped into the fighter, powered up the engines, and launched from the base.
As soon as he cleared the docking bay, he was hailed by a Lane Hacker patrol.
"Sir, your navigational systems have been disabled to prevent you from discovering the location of our base. We will escort you to a jump gate and then transmit the codes to release full control of your ship's systems."
Quatermain acknowledged the transmission and entered formation with the Hackers. As mysterious as all of this was, he found himself feeling a grudging respect for these "pirates". He had always known that the Lane Hackers were smarter than the average space-thug, but now he knew they were also exceptionally thorough, if not very forthcoming.
Three hours later Quatermain was convinced that he had passed that strange looking asteroid to starboard at least four times while the Hackers made sure that he was completely lost. A short time later he saw a massive jump gate appear in the distance between the asteroids. Suddenly his navigational computer powered up and started sending telemetry across his hud. He activated the comm system to send a farewell to his escorts, but received only the automated hail from the jump gate control systems.
"Very thorough", he muttered to himself.
Some time and several system jumps later he transmitted LSF security codes to the Fort Bush control tower and received clearance to land.
As he set foot on the space station's deck, he couldn't help but smile. It was a smile that few men had ever lived to remember seeing.
He went straight to the LSF Intelligence Office on the station and used his security clearance to appropriate a small research cubicle. He sat down at the terminal and began searching through the vast LSF database.
"Now, Mr. Joshua Crews, Vice President for Scarce Product Procurement at Interspace Commerce, let's see what naughty things you've been up to."
An all night perusal of LSF's intelligence database showed that Joshua Crews was even more of an enigma than Allan Quatermain previously thought.
Item after item of information appeared to be completely mundane, until Quatermain was irresistibly restless from the tedium of it all and took a break. He wandered down to the deserted Officer's lounge and gazed out the viewport at the stars.
"How could one man be so inscrutably boring?" he wondered to himself.
Then it hit him like a tachyon burst : the ordinariness of it all was itself extraordinary. In person, Joshua Crews exuded all the classic characteristics of a Type A personality : a large ego, confidence, ambition...but his background displayed none of those characteristics. In fact, every single aspect of Joshua Crews' life looked completely average except for one thing : he joined Interspace Commerce right after the Nomad War, spent twenty years in undistinguished service with no promotions beyond low-level management, and suddenly was promoted to Vice President of a brand new division of the company. It was almost as if he suddenly married the owner's daughter or something. Quatermain chuckled to himself.
Married the owner's daughter...Quatermain's mind turned the problem around to look at it from another angle. What if it wasn't a matter of opportunity, though, that shot Crews to the top so suddenly. What if it was a matter of timing? But timing related to what event?
He suddenly wished that he hadn't been so anxious to get off that Lane Hacker base. He suspected that The Lane Hackers knew much more than they had told him. Unfortunately, the LSF's files did not include data from hacks into Joshua Crews' personal computers. He was a high level executive, so they contained the routine data in case some officer wanted a briefing on short notice about someone's commercial activity, but since he had never been suspected of a crime, there was nothing terribly in depth.
"I need access to his personal files", Quatermain muttered to himself.
"But first, I'd better do the basic grunt work."
Over the next two days, Quatermain tracked down every person from Joshua Crews' distant background that he could find, posing as an old university roommate trying to reconnect after losing touch.
What he didn't find was more puzzling than what he did find.
He was unable to verify a single fact from Crews' background that took place before his initial employment with Interspace Commerce twenty years ago. Every employer was bankrupt and long gone. Every place of residence was torn down and rebuilt from the ground up as something else. Every friend, coworker, acquaintance, or neighbor was dead, senile, or untraceable.
Then, suddenly the references were abundant starting at that twenty year demarcation.
Fifty one hours after leaving the LSF archives at Fort Bush, Allan Quatermain sat in the cockpit of his Executioner studying the superstructure of Newark Station.
"It's almost like you just appeared out of nowhere twenty years ago, Mr. Crews" he announced to the empty space around him.
"You may be able to hide from me in the past, but you won't be able to hide from me in the present for very long."
He transmitted his security clearance to the station control tower and received clearance to dock at Interspace Commerce's headquarters.
For the umpteenth time in the past few days Quatermain wondered what the Hackers had been thinking when they sent him back to Liberty under his own name.
Sure, he had been an LSF agent years ago so the records were easy to massage into an long term undercover assignment, but Allan Quatermain was supposedly dead in Omega 55, and now here he was waltzing into Newark Station to break into the computer of the man responsible for his "death"!
Quatermain had no idea what he'd do if he actually came face to face with Joshua Crews. He indulged himself in a quick fantasy involving a depressurized airlock.
According to his information, however, Crews was supposedly off at some Freeport conducting a meeting with a group of Zoners. At least that was what his secretary had told him when he called to schedule a "job interview". He expected the biggest problem to be getting into Crews' office past his secretary.
Quatermain finally arrived at Crews' office and entered.
A few minutes later he left the office and took up a position down the corridor where it made a rounded curve. Twenty minutes later Crews' pretty, young secretary made a dash out of the office and up the corridor in the other direction towards the washroom to spend the next half hour fending off the bowel-loosening effects of the Kortesian Choke Weed extract that Quatermain had slipped into her coffee while she wasn't looking.
Quatermain quickly locked the outer office from the inside and switched off the light before heading to the door to Crews' private office. The electromagnetic lock-pick that the Hackers had included in a kit that he'd found in his Executioner fighter after he reached Liberty made short work of the door's controls.
He slipped on his gloves and headed for the computer terminal on Crews' desk.
He placed a sophisticated hacking device that he didn't even begin to understand on the desk and aimed its "eye" directly at the computer's optical interface plate. From the directions, all he needed to do was point the hacking device and turn on the computer while the device did all the work. The instructions from the Hackers claimed that it was fool-proof. Quatermain wondered if he was about to find out just who the fool was.
After an interminable 3 minutes and 43 seconds, the device's indicator switched from blue to green, indicating a complete download of the computer's files.
Quatermain shut off the computer, exited the office, and returned the outer office to the same state that he had found it in : unlocked, lights on, door partially ajar.
He launched his fighter from Newark and plugged the hacking device into his Executioner's computer systems to beginning scanning for useful information.
The most recent financial transaction under Crews' authority caught his immediate attention.
After perusing the file, Quatermain looked up from the computer console and out the deflection shield of his cockpit. In his mind's eye he could see the minefield far off in the distance on the other side of the New York system...and the "non-existent" jump gate that was at its center.
"Now what does an executive for Interspace Commerce want with a license to transport Nomad materials?"
The echo of his own voice within the tight confines of his ship was the only response he heard.
Quatermain tightened his grip on his Executioner's control stick.
He had been sitting motionless outside the entrance to the Zone 21 minefield for several minutes.
"Far too long," he muttered to himself.
"Joshua Crews went into the Alaska system en route to Freeport 11, and I have to find out why. A patrol is bound to come along shortly...its now or never."
He engaged his cruise engines and navigated through the narrow channel clear of mines until he reached the gate.
"Now lets find out just how good a hacker I am," he said aloud.
He punched in a few commands and a beam of data streamed from his fighter's optronic interface towards the jump gate's transmission array.
To his surprise, the gate's jaws began to open immediately, before he even began hacking the system.
"I'm either the luckiest guy in the galaxy, or I'm about to meet some unhappy navy men."
He docked with the gate and jumped into the Alaska system.
His first sensory perception after completing the jump was : "green". The jump gate appeared to rest in a strange nebula containing swirling greenish gases and small, peculiar asteroids.
His ship's sensors immediately picked up the transmission from a series of nav beacons a few klicks ahead of him.
"Might as well start there."
He followed the nav beacons for nearly an hour until he suddenly received a hail over the comm. system.
"Agent Quatermain, Prison Station Mitchell : We've been expecting you. Dock at bay 4."
Quatermain's legendary composure slipped for a second, but he collected himself before activating the comm..
"Prison Station Mitchell, Quatermain : Roger Bay 4." He deactivated the comm.
"I'm either on a magnificent streak of luck, or I'm about to be royally frakked."
He directed his optronic targeting system at the beacon for docking bay 4 and engaged the autopilot.
Two minutes later the hanger doors closed behind him with a clang.
After the green strobe in the pressurization chamber started flashing, he pulled the lever to open the cockpit.
"Welcome to Prison Station Mitchell, Agent Quatermain. We have much to show you."
Quatermain was more than a little relieved to see three men in lab coats instead of a squad of armed guards.
"I've waited a long time for this," Quatermain replied.
Quatermain followed the men through the winding corridors of the prison station, memorizing every twist and turn as they went.
The men prattled on about technical issues that Quatermain could not begin to understand, but that the men obviously expected him to be fully informed about.
So he just bluffed, a skill that he had elevated to a science.
Finally he heard a term that did mean something to him.
"...the collateral implications of the Neural-Nomadic interfaces on the psycho-physiology of the patient are indeterminate but highly..."
" 'Nomadic'? What the blazes are these people doing at this facility?"
Moments later they reached a palm-print security panel that one of the men activated and led into a large open room containing various technical equipment. In the middle of the room was a bio-containment pod. The pod appeared to be a translucent shell encasing a person who was lying on their back. The pod had numerous ports with optronic cables running out of it to the equipment around the room.
The lead scientist, as Quatermain had decided to think of him began speaking again.
"This particular subject has been recently prepared for investment with the latest prototype of cloned spores. We would have begun already, but when we learned of your imminent arrival, we decided to delay so that you could witness it yourself for your report."
Quatermain peered closely at the figure lying in the pod.
"Where did this subject originate?" He had great difficulty in keeping the revulsion that he was feeling out of his voice.
"He is a member of The Order who was captured during a recent incursion into Alaska."
Quatermain was unable to contain his surprise.
"How did The Order get into Alaska? And what did they do while they were here?"
The scientist shrugged. "That is not my concern. I am sure that the proper authorities are looking into it. I overheard the station Warden saying that they fled into the Omicrons, but I know they didn't go back to the New York system. After their infiltration was detected, an entire Navy capital squadron was waiting for them outside Zone 21 but they never showed up."
"The Omicrons" Quatermain mused mostly to himself. "The Order is rumored to have fled to the Omicrons through Alaska after the Nomad War, but its never been confirmed to the general public."
The scientist continued, "Well I'm sure that the Navy has things under control. Now if you please, we are ready to begin the procedure."
Quatermain noticed that the other scientists had left the room. The lead scientist went to a table and picked up a syringe containing a blue liquid that appeared to have tiny swirling particles inside it.
"Once injected, the spores will begin replacing the..."
The scientist launched into a spiel of technical jargon that Quatermain didn't even bother to pay attention to.
Instead, he stepped behind the man and delivered a sharp blow to the base of his neck.
The man instantly collapsed and Quatermain caught the syringe before it could strike the floor.
He looked at the figure inside the pod.
"I don't fully know what they did to you, pal, but I sure hope that disconnecting you from all this doesn't have worse effects than what they were about to do to you."
Five minutes later he left the room and headed for the docking bay, steering an antigrav storage container that he had found in a corner of the laboratory.
Inside the bio-containment pod, bio-engineered spores of an unknown origin began their cannibalistic work on a thoroughly unprepped specimen.
Although Quatermain passed numerous guards and technicians during his trip back to his fighter, none of them paid any attention to him. Nevertheless, he steered the antigrav container with his left hand while keeping his right hand free to reach his pistol if anyone tried to stop him.
Once he reached his ship, he maneuvered the container to the Executioner's cargo bay door and activated it. He was in the process of securing it to the wall of the ship when he heard a thump, followed by several more thumps.
Quatermain quickly activated the mechanism to open the container.
In his haste to exit the lab, Quatermain had barely glanced at the person he had rescued, but now he looked him over more thoroughly.
He appeared to be a non-descript young man in all respects but one : the intensity of his gaze far exceeded what anyone would typically expect from someone so young.
"Wanting a toilet break in the middle of a rescue is very bad timing" Quatermain said.
The young man showed no surprise.
"Just where do you intend to take me?"
"To tell you the truth, I haven't figured that out yet. Blazes, I haven't even figured out how I managed to get on this station yet!"
"You have a very peculiar method of planning rescues then. I suppose your ship's cockpit only holds one?"
"One indeed, and it's still a tight fit."
The young man gazed deep into Quatermain's eyes for several seconds.
"If you are indeed rescuing me and this is not some sort of LSF ruse, then our only avenue of escape is into Order controlled space. There is a jump hole in this system that will take us there. Let me up and I will program the coordinates into your nav computer."
It was Quatermain's turn to look contemplative.
He said, "We're in quite a situation, you and I. I can't fully trust you, and you can't fully trust me, and we have no other options except to do it anyway. Besides, what I'm looking for came into Alaska, and hasn't come back out, so if it isn't here, then it probably went through Order space."
"Nothing goes through Order space that The Order is not aware of," the young man replied.
Quatermain smiled for the first time that day. "I hope that's true."
After The Order pilot programmed the coordinates for the jump hole into the Executioner's nav computer, Quatermain gave him the ship's spare bio suit and strapped him into the cargo bay's prisoner restraints.
"It's not flying in style, but it's a lot better than traveling in a box," Quatermain said as he stepped out of the cargo hold.
The Order pilot smiled slightly as the hatch closed.
The LSF Executioner received clearance to depart without incident, and three hours later, after the autopilot had completed what Quatermain was certain was the most complicated "throw 'em off your trail" set of waypoints he had ever seen, the fighter slipped into a spatial anomaly deep in the Alaska system.
Moments later the ship exited the other end of the anomaly, and Quatermain found himself in the midst of total chaos.
Multiple contacts filled the Executioner's tactical readout, half of them registered as hostile unknowns on the LSF database while the rest appeared to be Bounty Hunter ships fighting the hostiles.
Quatermain jinked and strafed among the asteroids dodging stray shots, "I sure hope they're just stray shots," while he tried to figure out what to do.
Suddenly a fighter crossed his field of view within meters of his cockpit and he recognized the infamous silhouette of an Anubis.
"Looks like I located The Order after all. And that means that I can't let any of these BGH live long enough to report that I was here."
He locked on to the nearest "friendly" target and easily maneuvered onto the Hammerhead's 'six'. Moments later the bounty hunter's VHF exploded and Quatermain switched to another target.
A few minutes later all of the bounty hunter ships had been destroyed and Quatermain found himself surrounded by The Order ships, while the warning siren of multiple missile locks reverberated throughout his cockpit. An incoming comm message automatically adjusted the volume down on the warning tone.
"LSF fighter, you are ordered to power down your weapons and deactivate your shields immediately. You have 5 seconds to comply."
Quatermain wasted no time in doing so.
"LSF, our scans detect a life sign in your cargo hold. Because you assisted us in destroying those BHG bilge pods, we will give you the chance to state your purpose in Order space before we decide what to do with you."
Quatermain swallowed hard before answering.
"That is an Order pilot in my cargo hold who I just rescued from Prison Station Mitchell in the Alaska system. He programmed the coordinates to get here into the ship's nav computer. My purpose here is to return him to you and locate information on an individual I'm hunting named Joshua Crews."
"There. Keep it short and to the point."
Several minutes passed while Quatermain surmised that The Order pilots were debating amongst themselves what to do.
"LSF, we have a transport en route to dock with you to accept that prisoner. Standby."
"Acknowledged. Standing by."
Three hours of cramped sitting later, after the rescued Order pilot had no doubt been debriefed half a dozen times, Quatermain was ordered to power up his engines and follow The Order ships.
An hour after that they arrived at a very large asteroid and docked in a hanger that had been carved out of it. The hanger was depressurized and apparently the entire "station" was operating without artificial gravity, so Quatermain stayed in his zero-g suit until he was escorted into an airlock.
Once there he shed the suit and found a tachyon pistol pointed at his chest.
"The pilot you rescued vouches for your story, the little that he knows of it, but we don't take chances."
Quatermain nodded.
"I'd be disappointed if you did."
The Order pilot smiled.
"That's the first smart thing you've said so far." He gestured to the other airlock door. "Now someone wants to speak with you. Move."
Quatermain propelled himself out of the airlock.
Several minutes of zero-g fumbling down tight corridors carved out of the asteroid took him to what was obviously an interrogation room. The lack of gravity made the ubiquitous table and chairs a practical impossibility. Instead, there were multiple handgrips fastened into the walls, ceiling, and floor of the room, since there really was no "up" and "down" in zero-g. He noted the single pair of restraints on one wall, but the guards made no motion to put him in them.
A few minutes later another man entered the room and eyed him up and down.
"I can handle this alone," he said. The other Order men left the room.
"Hello "Agent" Quatermain. You are every bit what the Lane Hackers described you as."
For the first time in years, Quatermain was unable to keep his surprise from showing on his face. Before he could reply, the man spoke again.
"There isn't much time. Crews is heading back to Liberty, and you need to be waiting for him when he reaches Newark Station. His "cargo" is far too dangerous to allow it to remain in their hands. You must destroy it and bring Crews to us. There is no room for mistakes."
Quatermain rapidly tried to digest what he was hearing.
"I want to know who Joshua Crews is and why he sent me and my team to Omega 55. And just what is his 'cargo'?"
The man hesitated before replying.
"Joshua Crews used to be human, just like you and I. There's no time to explain the rest to you right now. Your ship is being prepped. Follow me back to the hangar."
By the time Quatermain reached his fighter, the man had filled in a few more details.
By the time the Alaska to New York jump gate filled his field of view a few hours later, he had managed to digest only a small portion of it.
"You and I are going to have a very long chat, Mr. Joshua Crews, and one of us is not going to find it pleasant."
Trace data : intercepted transmission : transcript follows
Quatermain : Hello Crews. You have some explaining to do.
Crews : Quatermain? It can't be you. This is some kind of trick. You died in the Omegas.
Quatermain : No, Crews. YOU are the one who died in the Omegas. I just haven't found the chance to kill you before now.
Crews : *laughter* None of that matters, Quatermain. You should have never come back to Liberty. You have no idea what you are dealing with.
Quatermain : Really? Why don't you tell me all about it while you can still speak without screaming.
Crews : Your threats are meaningless. Your life or death is irrelevant.
Quatermain : Not to me it isn't, and not to those good men who died in Omega 55 because of you!
Crews : All men die, but some of us become great BEFORE we meet the end. You are just a pawn, Quatermain. A pawn who doesn't know his real place in the game.
Quatermain : Your word games are starting to annoy me, Crews. I know all about your devious plot. I know about Midnight's End.
Crews : Midnight's...how do you know about that?!!!
Quatermain : You aren't as clever as you thought, Crews. I'm going to put a stop to this madness, and I'm going to start by ending your miserable life after you tell me what I want to know!
Crews : You died in Omega 55 whether you know it or not, Quatermain. You are only prolonging the inevitable.
Trade lane disruption repaired; docking sequence initiated
Report of West PointAcademy intercept : transcript follows
Quatermain : You can't run from me forever, Crews.
Crews : You have no conception of forever, Quatermain. I'll be laughing over your grave long after you are gone.
Quatermain : You're a fool! There is no way you came up with this plot yourself. You talk about pawns, I think YOU are just a pawn with an overinflated ego.
Crews : *laughter*
Quatermain : I know more than you think I do, Crews. I have the files off your Newark office computer. The Lane Hackers and The Order have been tracking you for months. You aren't nearly as secure as you think you are.
Crews : That's impossible. You're bluffing!
Quatermain : Am I? Then how do I know about Midnight's End? How did I know where to ambush you? How do I know about that "specimen" that your cronies were experimenting on at Mitchell Prison Station in Alaska?
Crews : *curses* You have made a royal pest out of yourself, Quatermain. The LSF is going to hunt you down when they find out you're an imposter. Every BHG within five systems will be after your pitiless carcass!
Quatermain : If I can't get the information out of your mind, I'll take it off of your ship's computer systems after I slice it into scrap. I only care about one thing, Crews : watching you die!
Crews : Do your worst, Quatermain! You are only making your own end more terrible!
Weapons fire detected. Detonations detected followed by hull decompression.
Detection of radiological material and alien biological specimens. Hazardous materials teams dispatched to vicinity of Newark Station.
Quarantine protocols initiated.
Apprehension of suspect "Allan Quatermain" for interrogation is ordered.
Manhattanites were treated to a spectacular fireworks show several days ago that took place in the planet's high orbit. Orbiting vessels scrambled to escape what can only be described as a fleet of Lane Hackers, Hellfire Legionnaires, and Reapers of Sirius that suddenly launched a massive strike right into the heart of Liberty. Details of the attack are only now being released to the public.
The events began with what nearby pilots described as a strange but relatively routine interdiction of a commercial transport by an officer of the Liberty Security Force. Comm intercepts revealed the details of a conversation between the LSF officer and the commercial pilot. Numerous references to the Omega systems and threats exchanged between the two pilots are still under investigation by the LSF.
Trenton Outpost has provided images of the LSF officer's Executioner fighter destroying the evading Interspace Commerce Armored Transport. Orbital radiological sensors were triggered when the vessel was destroyed, and hazardous materials teams quickly moved in and quarantined the area after the pirate fleet dispersed.
The LSF fighter docked at Manhattan and security personnel moved to detain the officer, but were unable to do so before he accessed a nearby private hangar and launched in a Nephthys fighter.
The Nephthys began transmitting an IFF signal known to be used by The Order as soon as he attained orbit, doubtless as a signal to the attacking pirate forces which had moved in immediately after the Interspace Commerce vessel was destroyed.
In a strange twist of fate, no Liberty security agencies were present in orbit at the time, due to both a change in shifts and training exercises that were being conducted elsewhere.
Manhattanites were staunchly but vainly defended by various bounty hunters who happened to be in the area while mercenaries of The Jupiter Guild repeatedly broadcasted their neutrality to the pirates to avoid attack. The pirate forces quickly obliterated all opposition and then vacated Manhattan 's orbit while security forces scrambled to find available ships to send against them. By the time LSF and Liberty Navy ships arrived, there was nothing but debris which was already being picked over by Junker salvagers who were quickly dispersed.
Fortunately, the valiant bounty hunters' escape pods were located and retrieved without fatalities. There has been no sign of the Interspace Commerce pilot's escape pod. LPI has reported that no radiological material was found, and indicate that the orbital sensors may have given a false alarm due to the high concentration of engine fluids and fuel that was dumped into orbit by the exploding capital ships.
The rogue LSF officer's whereabouts are currently unknown, although sources on board the Battleship Missouri report that an Order transponder was briefly detected after the battle. Whether or not this was the fleeing Nephthys is unknown, due to the fact that an anonymous source inside LSF reports that a Black Squadron ship was also briefly in the New York system during these events.
Any sightings of the Nephthys or its rogue pilot should be immediately reported to LSF or Navy personnel.
End Story.
Liberty News Network
Flash Report
This is an update to our previous report on the day's events of a brash pirate attack in Manhattan's orbit.
The Liberty Security Force has released the identity of the Executioner fighter pilot who later fled Manhattan in an Order Nephthys fighter. The pilot's name is Allan Quatermain. The LSF confirms that Quatermain was discharged from the LSF two decades ago and has since been employed by various corporations.
LSF has issued a priority warrant for Quatermain's arrest on the charges of impersonating an LSF officer, espionage, consorting with known terrorists, and murder of an Interspace Commerce pilot. Quatermain's whereabouts are currently unknown.