"Daniel bloody Marshal." Alex replied. "Excuse me if I'm not exactly jumping up to shake your hand and get your sodding autograph." Alex cracked his neck from side to side.
"You know, I think the worst part is that you didn't even have the courtesy to come ruin my life yourself. No, you had to hire some two-bit mercenary to do your dirty work for you." He shook his head and leaned back in his chair. "So then Marshal, to what do I owe the displeasure?"
The attack on your base of operations was NOT what we had agreed on. We hired the mercenary
to gather intel on you, nothing more. After I heard about the frack up, I went to contact the guy
who was supposed to gather the Intel. He has vanished, along with the person who pointed us
towards him. Look Alex, we are not responsible for this, that damned gun for hire is.
Do you believe me?
Power does not corrupt. Fear corrupts... perhaps the fear of a loss of power.
Alex took a second to decide whether or not what he was hearing was even within the realm of possibility. He muttered something to tha effect before deciding that someone, somewhere, must really like screwing with him.
"Well assuming that my young memory is still as fresh as I like to think it is..." Alex began. "I'm guessing it's Blain Spike. I have a bone to pick with you. You know how long it took me to figure out that you organized the files based on priority? Couldn't you have left a note or... something like that? But in all honesty... you better start explaining the situation to me here because the story Marshal's spinning about Creed is less than believable."
Your right Alex. Now, I think I should explain how the 63rd is involved. After leaving the Society, I retired.
What everyone else knows is that I have been doing some digging of my own into what actually happened.
Blain pulls out a datapad, and taps a few buttons. A recording starts to play
Marshal: Hello, are you Mr. Creed?
Unknown: Who wants to know?
Marshal: I will take that as a yes. I have a job for you.
Unknown: Ok, whats the assignment?
Marshal: Information. The target is Alex Drake, Bretonian Armed Forces.
Is this going to be a problem?
Unknown: No. Whats the payment?
Marshal: Twenty Million. Five up front, fifteen on transmission of data.
Unknown: Ten up front, not unsociable. Transmits the credits and all known data
to the neural net account 55d054 and I will begin.
Marshal: Remember. Intel only. Nothing else.
Transmission corrupted
Blain types a command into the comm pad and puts it back in his pocket
This conversation was at a terminal only used by order operatives to communicate with operatives
who may be under surveillance by Foreign powers, which is why you missed it. Marshal, nor any of the
63rd operatives are part of this conspiracy. This mercenary was obviously on some other persons pay role
and wanted to mess with your career in the Armed Forces, so they framed you. I have yet to find any solid
evidence on who did this, but believe me, it was hard enough to even find the recording of the conversation.
Blain picks a seat at the table, and sits
Look, I know this is a bit of a shock to you, how you have come so far but all the information you have
gathered is useless. My assumption is that these people wanted the order to take the fall, so I started
with the anti-Order groups first. The BAF framing narrows it down to one of a few possible suspects.
The Kusari Government is to busy with the war to even notice, and there is no motive to get one person
framed for something. Then I thought possibly this was the Societies goal all along to get you to be
recruited in, as they needed a computer genius at the time. But honestly, I don't know. The only real
person who can give us any information at all is our friend Julian Creed, who vanished off the face of the
Omicrons.
Power does not corrupt. Fear corrupts... perhaps the fear of a loss of power.
Pacing around the bridge, marshal looked at the people at the controls, pondering how to break the
news to the men and women aboard the Trident...
All hands. At 0200 Hours, The Trident has begun launching fighter detachments from Freeport 9 in
Omicron Theta. Our goal is to assist the Gas Miners Guild in defence of the sigmas, as well as
assisting in stabilizing the region. at 1400 Hours today, Trident's scanners detected a massive
increase in Rheinland Military patrols in the Sigmas. Per a Rheinland broadcast, they claim to be
wanting to stabilize the region as well, but the Rheinland Military past with the GMG and the 80 year war,
hostilities may become present. Pilots, keep a eye out for Rheinland ships, but try to avoid
them and when asked what your doing use the cover story. That is all, Marshal out.
Power does not corrupt. Fear corrupts... perhaps the fear of a loss of power.
"Great, back to square one." He leaned back in his chair. "Well at least I know I'm looking for Creed but that doesn't change the fact that he managed to ghost himself. By the way Blain, did I ever mention that my best friend tried to kill me?"
Blain pulls a key out of his pocket, and tosses it over to Alex
That should get you out of the restraints. I'm going to be working on the Trident, and I will contact
you with this.
Blain puts a optical disk in the center of the conference table, and starts walking torwards the door
Look Alex. The Fact of the matter is that Marshal feels guilty for how things turned out for you, and
he has promised to help you when needed. He offered me the job as head intelligence officer aboard
the Trident, and that disk has a program that can contact us, no matter what. Oh, and don't lose it.
Tell the guard to show you the way to the hanger deck. There you will find a shuttle waiting for you to take
you to whichever Freeport you wish. Good luck man.
Blain walks out of the room, leaving the door open...
Power does not corrupt. Fear corrupts... perhaps the fear of a loss of power.
Alex was quick to unlock the restraints and then he stared at the disk for a long time before finally putting it in his pocket. He sighed and walked out of the room.
He followed the guard to the hangar and a short while later was flying away towards Freeport 2. He stared at the wall vacantly and twirled the disk between his fingers. Everything had just gotten infinetley more complicated and he couldn't help the feeling that he was part of some Sirius wide conspiracy that he hadn't even scratched the surface on.
He shook his head, that was a laugh. Conspiracies on that scale ony ever happened in video games and sci-fi films. Soon his thoughts turned to Emma and how he'd ever convince Rufus to let her leave the Intruder...
***
Briar stood next to Marshal on the bridge watching Drake's shuttle fly away.
"So why did you want the intel on him anyway?" He asked adjusting his hat.