By the time Nathaw had landed on Toledo base, it was already late afternoon, and the smog in the atmosphere had been slowly dispersed by the rays from the sun. The green haze of the stellar matter, hanging in the vacuum of space, many thousands of meters above him, casting odd shades of shadow on the launch pad where he was standing. As he looked from the ground back up at the sky, Nathaw imagined where the Battleship Isis would be stationed, defending Toledo. Where it would stay, and what it would be doing, until it’s very last breath. He just stared up for a few moments, intrigue filling his eyes and my mind, and as he stood there, time seemed to stand still, and he found himself contemplating the vastness of the universe once again.
Shaking himself mentally, forcing himself to regain control and get on with the task at hand, he thought “Thank god those faked papers were accepted. . . if the Order High Command knew about some of the contacts I’d been meeting with lately, I dread to think what would have happened”. He would have arrived at Toledo, performing the usual routine docking procedures, and the Isis would have wiped him from existence, in the blink of an eye. No time for anyone to ask questions, no time for him to give an explanation – he would simply disappear from the records. It’s happened before, and it’ll happen again.
He looked back down, vaguely noticing that his neck had stiffened, and he wondered how long he had been looking up. As he hastily gathered up his jacket and communicator, he took a quick look around to make sure the coast was clear. Nathaw didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself. . . He already had a feeling that he was being watched by someone. There he was, going on about conspiracy theories again. “It’s ok” he said to himself. “It’s been a long day. You just need a drink and a place to relax for a while.” After reassuring himself, the pilot simply stood for a moment, a look of wonder forming across his face. Hastily, he turned back to catch a glance of his ship, as if someone was there, doing something they shouldn’t have been. Right there on the landing pad where he’d left it – docked planet-side. He rubbed his eyes while massaging the top of his nose in the same movement. “I need a drink”, he told himself, and had headed for the bar.
He figured must have been sitting at the bar for a good thirty minutes before the bartender decided to approach him. At first, the man had seemed cautious – maybe he’d known today just hadn’t been a good day. As the bartender drew closer, he had spoke up and asked “Something in your drink, Sir?” When Nathaw looked up at him and then back down to his hands on the table, he realized he had been staring into his drink, completely distracted from the real world surroundings by the train of thought racing through his mind. “No, it’s fine thanks” he replied. Obviously satisfied with the reply, the bartender had turned back around and walked up the other end of the bar, towards some other customers. As Nathaw collected himself together, he threw back his glass, downing the rest of the drink in one. It seared at the back of his throat for a moment as he swallowed, but he thought to himself “what doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger”. That had bought a smile to his face, a small reminder of something that had happened long ago during his childhood. After a few moments, the smile had slowly faded, and with that, he put my glass down on the bar and picked up his jacket from the stool next to him, turned to head towards the exit, and threw a small nod of acknowledgement and thanks to the bartender as he left.
The light had started to dim outside now, as he walked away from the bar and out into the hallway. It hadn’t been a particularly busy night, and as he walked over to the pilot accommodations building, he passed a door to a small cabin on the north side of the base. As he walked past, he heard raised voices, and decided that it would be best if he stopped to check them out. As he paused outside the door, he caught the tail end of a point that one of them was making. “I just can’t take it anymore!”, to which the other replied, “It’s all going to be fine, let’s not blow this whole thing out of proportion. Look, tomorrow morning, we can go consult an official and get this whole thing sorted out, ok?” After hearing that, he simply couldn’t resist the temptation, reached out for the door handle, and had strode right in.
“Any problems here, gents?” he had said, in a tone that seemed to reek of superiority. Immediately, both of the pilots had jumped to attention, but Nathaw simply waved a hand to them, and they had stood at ease again, seeming to get the message. He had stood there looking at the two for a moment before either of them responded, taking the awkward moment of silence to eye the pair up and down. “Yes, in fact there are, Sir”. Nathaw was slightly taken aback at the brashness of his reply. “Oh?” he had asked quizzically. “What’s your name?” “It’s Pulsus, Sir”. “Nice to meet you, Pulsus”. “Nice to meet you too, Sir. Now, if you don’t mind my asking, what do you want?”
The second man in the room nudged the first, when he thought Nathaw wouldn’t be able to see it. “Sly little bugger” he thought to himself. He had been rather surprised by the pilots direct approach to his questioning, as he was used to many of the lower ranks being more. . . afraid. “I heard loud voices and came to investigate” he replied, very matter-of-factly. Pulsus had gestured to the man sitting behind him. “That was just me and Chuck having a discussion about the High Command”. That caught his attention, so Nathaw replied “Oh? What kind of a discussion?”. Pulsus snappily replied “Just a discussion regarding certain decisions we thi. . . Ow!” Chuck had dug his elbow in his side. “What was that for!?” “It’s a sensitive topic, Sir”. “Well, I’m sure I can pass on some of your views to the High Command. . .” “That’s not what we had in mind, Sir”. “Oh, I see”, I replied. Everyone went silent for a minute, as the trio waited for another group of pilots to pass. The only sound had been the humming of a generator in the background, the breathing of the pilots, and the footsteps and muffled conversation of the pilots outside. After they had done so, Nathaw reached over, pushed the door shut, and locked it to afford the three some privacy in their discussions, before pulling up a chair and sitting down himself. “Tell me” he said, and with no further resistance, reluctantly, the two had begun to talk.
“Many of the pilots have become restless” Chuck blurted out. “No-one listens to us anymore. . . it’s like the High Council have a personal vendetta with the Bounty Hunters. . . that’s not what we’re here to do”. The other two had listened to him, Nathaw nodding his head, until Chuck suddenly stopped himself, realizing what he had said. He had immediately begun to apologize “Don’t take that the wrong way, Sir. I. . .” “We really didn’t mean it like that” Pulsus had butted in. Nathaw took a moment to cast a wary eye over him, and had chuckled at seeing the look on his face. He looked like he’d just been left in the middle of Alaska in nothing but an escape pod. . . and Nathaw couldn’t help but a small chuckle at his expense. He reached forward, and put his hand on Chuck’s shoulder. “I know what you mean”. A few moments passed before Nathaw had noticed his expression begin to relax, and very slowly a smile crept to the edges of the pilot’s mouth, although he got there just in time to stop himself from grinning.
Nathaw began to try and reassure them of his sincerity, so he spoke without hesitation, and said “No matter what I try to suggest to them, they won’t listen. I used to have friends inside the High Command, but they won’t take my communications anymore – it’s like they’re changed people. There’s no democracy, not even in the slightest. It’s as if they don’t care what other members of the High Command think – as long as it’s what they want to happen, it’s happening”. He took a momentary pause to let them take in the information, and for him to catch his breath before continuing. “If a pilot tries to make a suggestion now, they’re accused of being infected, and then the High Command has ordered them to be eradicated”. “It’s just a show of their power. They’re trying to reinforce the fleets’ belief in them” Pulsus had interrupted. “Exactly” Nathaw replied. “The High Command has gone unchallenged for too long, making decisions that concern millions of others besides themselves, and I’m not sure they’ve been making the right decisions for the masses. We don’t need to be focusing on the Bounty Hunters, the real threat is the Nomads”. He paused for another moment, keeping Pulsus and Chuck hooked on his every word, waiting for more. “They’ve had months to rebuild their forces, gather new energy sources. . . another attack is imminent – and it could come any day now. We have to somehow get them to realize it. . .”
There were a few minutes of uninterrupted, awkward silence as they all sat there, thinking. Finally, Nathaw broke the silence, and spoke. “We need to start a rebellion. We need to make the High Command listen. We will defect, and we will fight for every single person’s right to have say in the decisions of the High Command. Their decisions no longer affect only the Order. Action must be taken now”. Chuck and Pulsus had looked at each other for a moment, and then back towards Nathaw. Chuck had nodded, and Pulsus replied “Let’s do it”. Nathaw was almost ecstatic at having found others among the Order who had the same beliefs about the High Command as he himself did – he had never thought that anyone else would have had the ability to open their eyes and see what was really going on, but it appeared that he was wrong – someone did have the ability, and they had taken the opportunity. Nathaw had stood up and tucked his jacket under my arm, and both Chuck and Pulsus had stood to attention, ready for Nathaw to make his announcement. “Gentlemen, collect your things. Be ready to launch within the hour”, and with that, he had turned around, and walked out of the room, not looking back.
It had been nearing on an hour and ten minutes since their meeting, and Pulsus and Chuck were standing at the launch pad, waiting for him. They had become increasingly agitated, and were fidgeting quite severely. Chuck had said to Pulsus “It’s a setup – it’s gotta be a setup!”, to which Pulsus had replied “Calm down! It’s not a setup; there’s just been a minor hitch somewhere along the line”. With that, he had relaxed a little, and even went as far as leaning back against some supply crates – he hoped they had a bigger ship. . . the bomber they had wasn’t going to be able to carry all the supplies they would be needing over the next few months. He hadn’t even known how they were going to get away from the planet at the time – he was so sure that they’d have been asked to present proof of their orders from the High Command. Pulsus had simply told him to have faith that what they were doing was right, and that that would afford them some level of luck, yet all the while, he had been fidgeting so badly, that he had found it hard to keep his balance, even when he’d been leaning against the supply crates for support. Another two minutes must have passed before the two had jumped up, at a rather unusual sight. In the distance, they had seen a ship silhouetted against the horizon, and it had been flying towards the launch pad at high speed – much faster than any ship should have been travelling inside the planet’s atmosphere. As it had gotten closer, the pair had been able to make the ship out. . . a Hathor gunboat – Nathaw. “Something’s gone wrong” Pulsus had replied, and with that he had grabbed his bag and some food rations from on top of the supply crates, and rushed up the ramp and into his ship. Chuck had been unsure of what to do in this situation, and hastily followed Pulsus up the ramp with more of the supplies.
The ship had landed on the pad with great haste, most surely grazing some paint from the hull plating. The doors opened almost immediately after it had made contact with the ground, and Nathaw shouted to them over the comms, opening the bay doors as he did so. From the bridge, he had signalled for them to grab as much of the cargo as they could, and they had nodded their acknowledgement, knowing this was no joke and that something had gone severely wrong. The engines of the gunboat had still powered up from its hasty touchdown, so Pulsus had gone for the food, while Chuck had lunged out for the closest weapons crate. In the distance, they had been able to hear two Order heavy fighters inbound for their position. “Quickly!” Nathaw had shouted over the comms, “They’re coming, get the hell up here!” Pulsus made for his ship carrying whatever he could, with Chuck about to follow. “Chuck, not that way! We’ve got transport arranged for you!” Chuck hadn’t known what he was talking about at the time, but he had inclined his head towards Pulsus and raised his hand to salute the man “See you on the other side!” he had shouted, and turned around, and began running for the open bay doors of Nathaw’s gunboat. His heart had been pounding and his mind racing, and as he had jumped through into the bay, the two Order heavy fighters had passed right above them, simultaneously firing two missiles which had hit several of the supply crates which contained engineering supplies, narrowly missing Chuck and the gunboat by mere meters. As Chuck saw, he had cringed, thinking about how much that would impact their plans, but nonetheless, he hit the button to close the bay doors, and shouted to the bridge over the comm system “On board sir!”, and had made his way to the bridge.
“They won’t have called the Isis for support yet –they’ll never believe we could get away from the pads! I’ve sealed all the entrances to the launch pad, so let’s sort them out and we can be out of here!” “Aye, Sir” Pulsus replied. “Engaging fighters” “Remember combat training! Use your shield busters, and then follow up with a volleyed missile attack from behind! If we take them down, we might not get our asses blown up as soon as we undock!” “Confirmed. Defilers, then missiles”. Pulsus’ ship was already airborne by then, and had already set an intercept course for the fighters. The gunboat had engaged its thrusters, and had risen from the launch pad in spectacular fashion, the engines still fired up from its hasty docking procedure a few seconds earlier. “Intercept course plotted, target locked” Pulsus had stated over the open comm link. “Understood. Target locked. Fire at will!” It had only taken a couple of well aimed shots to disable the fighters – they had gone down just over the rocky ridges enclosing the launch pad. It was the Rebellions first Order kill.
There were a few seconds of stunned silence, as the trio thought about what they had done, and what the consequences would be if they were caught. But it was too late to think about that now – they’d just taken down two heavy fighters for gods sake! Pulsus had been the first to snap out of it, and had signalled Nathaw over the comms. “Sir, we have to leave”. “Confirmed, Pulsus. Head for the docking ring. Once you’re out in space, take a hard left and ensure you distance yourself from the Isis – it won’t be long before they’ve restored contact with the surface. Once you’re out, I’ll contact you, and we’ll set our course for the Omicron Delta jump hole. Freeport 11 is our best bet for now”. “Understood. Suggest we go our separate ways till we reach Omicron Delta?” “Affirmative. You go first, I’ll be right behind you”. “Understood”, and Pulsus had headed for the docking ring. Nathaw had waited only a few seconds before following him, not wanting to let the Order have time to contact the Isis, but not wanting to make it look suspicious either. “We’d better get out of here as soon as possible”. The Isis hadn’t been warned, and allowed the trio to leave, uncontested.
After the group were a safe distance from Toledo and away from the Order patrols, Nathaw turned around to face Chuck and had said “I’ve got a surprise for you in Delta”. “Oh?”. “Remember the carrier you used to serve on?” Chuck had nodded in response, his eyes had lit up a little, but he hadn’t let himself get too optimistic. “We’ll be meeting up with a new crew at Freeport 11. Are you ready?” Chuck sat, stunned. “You’re serious!?” He had sat back, simply awestruck. “I spoke to you less than two hours ago, and I joined a rebellion. How stupid could I have been!? But now. . . we have a carrier. A mobile base of operations. A chance to do what we planned right from the start. Something that we will be remembered for”. Nathaw had just nodded.
As the ships rendezvoused, preparing to head from the Omicron Minor jump hole to Freeport 11, Nathaw and Chuck had been talking with Pulsus over the comm channel. “All the suffering, all the loss of life against the Bounty Hunters.” Nathaw paused. “We should have been fighting the real enemies of the Order. The Nomads”. Out of the corner of his eye, Nathaw had seen Chuck look down towards the deck plating, obviously remembering a painful memory. He felt for him, as any Order pilot would for another who had lost a valued friend in combat. “We are mankind’s shining beacon, the beacon of hope, of light, of Order.” Nathaw took a pause to think about the thousands of wingmen they had lost in battle to the Bounty Hunters, and most importantly, a man who he had befriended long ago, when he had been a low ranking ensign in the Order ranks. “Captain Night’s death will not go unpunished. Neither will the deaths of the countless thousands of other brave Order pilots that the High Command has sentenced to death. The Nomads aren’t the infection here – it’s the High Command. In the memory of Captain Night, I will go forward, and fight as Order. But we will fight for the Order – the pilots and the legacy, not the High Command!” He paused once more before he continued “The High Command isn’t the same as it used to be. . . it’s gotten lapse. . . too distracted by meaningless battles”.
The group were fast approaching Freeport 11, and Nathaw had been able to see an Order carrier in orbit of the Freeport. It’s size had seemed immense. . . it had been a while since he’d seen one up close. It was simply stunning. A communication came in from the Freeport: “This is Freeport 11, state your identity”, to which he had replied “Freeport 11, this is the Order. We are in need of urgent supplies and repairs. Requesting permission to dock?”. After a few moments, a reply came in from the Freeport. “Permission granted, Order. You may proceed to docking port 4”. “Confirmed”. Nathaw cut the connection. He switched the active channel back to Pulsus’ vessel, and they continued the discussion as Pulsus and Nathaw began docking procedures.
“Let’s decide this here and now. Let’s make a difference, change how things happen around here”, Pulsus had interjected. “Agreed” replied Chuck. Nathaw nodded his silent approval, which was enough. The three had known each other mere hours, but they’d already learnt a respect for each other, and a trust had begun to grow. Something they would be able to nurture, cultivate, and allow to flourish. Nathaw thought about the events of the past few hours, and he had been able to tell the two would remain close to him during the days that were to follow. Just before docking, he spoke out again – a final word to finalize their goal. “Let’s bring a new era. Let us rebel, let us fight with honour, even in the face of our most threatening enemies. Help us to prevail, recruit whoever we must to usher in this new era. . . we will fight with honour, courage and dignity, and we will fight as ORDER!” With that, the bay doors for docking port 4 had closed, and the rebellion had been formed.
**STATIC** All Stragler***we*****ar****waiting***signal strength disori*****We a*****Hiding*******shadow of sun******We**********ar**************************waiting****
Nathaw stood still. Gazing out to the stars shedding a tear for all his comrades that were killed in the furious battle in kappa. They all died.... Every single rebel died... apart from him. He attempted to put a vision in to other peoples perspective, they didnt listen nor took the time to even hear his opinion. Even if Kelt would allow him back to toledo things would never be the same again. Once again he draws the photo out from his pocket and shed another tear over the photo of his wife and son.
*They are all dead... Everyone i touch burns like Medium Red*
He slowly pulled out a modified magnum from his pocket... and loaded a standard order bullet for when you run out of plasma in ground combat. He gazed in to the barrel of the gun and thought back to when he first met her.
Its was like in the movies sun sets galore and then the stars out on toledo hills. He gazed in to her eyes and told her he loved her with all his heart. Next thing you know she is gone.. she died in a attacked by the nomads.
*My vision is just revenge.... and i got more people killed by my foolish acts*
Nathaw aims the gun to his right temple.
He whispers *See you soon baby....*
He pulled the trigger and a loud bang was heard down the corridor on Freeport 11.
His lifeless body crashes to the ground. On his face you could see a smile. He saw his wife again. In the after life maybe...