Before Jason could respond by slamming the engines and getting the hell outta there, the dreadnought closest to him launched some weird sort of ray... the cockpit was shrowded in blue, and his engines powered down as he was dragged in. A modified tractor beam, made to disable ships and pull them in. At another time, under other conditions, Jason would have been appreciative of what it could do.
Now, he was a tad pissed.
Moving about, he grabbed the gun he kept under his seat, slung the flight bag over his shoulder, and made various other preperations for what he was sure would be a fun time. A couple of grenades should work nicely with the entrance, followed by a withering spray of blaster bolts from a heavy-repeating carbine.
A large metallic squeal announced his ship being unwillingly pulled into the docking bay, and the noises that accompanied it were there. Looking out the cockpit window, he saw numerous Liberty troops pouring through doorways, guns hefted and pointing at the Sabre.
Dropping his gun, Jason decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and opened the door, coming out slowly with his hands up. An officer came up and cuffed him, taking him to a cell.
It was a grizzled old man that was stuck with interrogating Jason. The room was austere; white walls on all sides marking out the boundaries within which the prisoner could move. In the room was five objects: a steel table, bolted to the floor; two steel chairs, also bolted to the floor; Jason Moore; the interrogator. The man opposite Jason, for they both sat, was old as the roots of a massive tree, and tougher. His face looked like rawhide, and he looked as if he could chew through leather. His steely eyes, attempting to penetrate Jason's skin and see into his very soul, were intimidating, and if the man he was questioning had been any less of a man, it would have been a one-sided battle.
But this was, of course, Jason Moore, who had been on the other side of that table enough times back in his days in the LPI to know how it worked. A few things were different, since this was the military, but it was mostly the same. And there was no sink full of water in the cell, which was good. Some of the cells on Sugarland had sinks.
Jason let the man know three things: his name, his allegiance, and that he was here to check on the Tundra. Once the last was mentioned, the man left, and Jason waited for a long time before another man walked in. He introduced himself as Agent Carr of the LSF, and asked Jason what he knew about the Tundra.
Considering the request, Jason realized that this was a problem that transcended the petty squabbles that humanity had. So he told Agent Carr most of what he knew about the Tundra, how he had seen Nomads on board, how he had seen the Captain infected, how he had seen the battleship eat the hapless cruiser. At that last, Carr seemed to lose his composure for a second, though his famed poker face wasn't long vacant from his face. After Jason was done, while also outlining the threat of a second Nomad War, Carr dubiously asked:
"And why did you come here? We can very well handle it on our own."
Jason took a breath, then said in a matter-of-fact tone, "Because I'm a piece in the puzzle, possibly the key to defeating the Nomad threat. I don't know why," he lied between his teeth, he knew damn well why, "but I am, otherwise they wouldn't have gone to such lengths to see me dead."
All the while, Jason couldn't help but wonder what had happened to the soldiers that the Order had 'enhanced', using the blueprint that was Jason's body to reverse-engineer up a few Nomad-hunters, humans designed with the singular task of defeating Nomads.
Carr nodded, then said, "I have to... consult with my supervisor. I'll be back." He left the room in a hurry, leaving Jason to his morbid thoughts of what had happened.
It must've been hours. Jason began wondering if he had been lost in the bureaucratic wheels that slowly turned and ran the machine that was the LSF. His impression of Carr was that he was a "good kid", much like Jason had been back when he had been in the LPI. He knew his stuff, probably was competent in a fight. Long story short, Jason figured him as someone that wasn't stupid.
So he expected Carr to come back and tell Jason that he could help. Why? Gut instinct. Jason had it in spades, it had saved his ass on numerous occasions, and it was yelling at him right now.
The door opened and Carr walked in, with two guards on his heel. They stationed themselves on either side of the door, while Carr motioned Jason out of his seat.
"I've talked it over with the higher-ups... come with me." He led him out of the cell and down the hall to a briefing room. Inside it was chaos, but it was ordered. If it wasn't, people started dying. Jason said not a word, knowing he would find everything out when they told him and not before.
As he entered the room behind Carr, everything grew quiet. For about three seconds. Then, Carr said:
"Everyone, this is Jason Moore of the Hellfire Legion. He will be helping us on this case..."
He got a lot of cold looks; they knew Moore's reputation, knew exactly how much damage he had caused to Liberty on raids and knew how tough he was. Jason returned their cold looks with one of his own.
Of course Jason didn't stick around. Wasn't his style. As soon as he could, he got away, took his ship back, and hauled ass until the prison station was a blip in the distance. The LSF had been right to eye him dubiously, as he had fulfilled the expectations of the cynical and really pissed off the as-yet optimistic Agent Carr.
However, he realized the importance the LSF could play in upcoming event, which is why he opened a comm channel with the prison station and asked for Carr. A few seconds later, he heard a voice on the other end of the channel.
"You've got balls calling back, Moore."
"Yeah, it's a fault of mine. Listen, the Nomads are bigger than you and me, so I'm not gonna mess with you until this is dealt with, and I expect the same from you."
He cut the line and refused to pick up when it started ringing. He just reached forward and deactivated the ringer to stop the annoying sound.
Unbeknownst to Jason, a small transmitter was broadcasting somewhere in his ship.
It took days of tracking, but Jason Moore finally found the LNS Tundra. It was a difficult job, but what finally won him it was the fact that the Nomad fighters he saw were patrolling in definite patterns, all revolving around a single spot - the Tundra. It appeared to Jason, watching quietly from a powered-down ship, that the Nomads were using it as some sort of repair depot for their ships, though how they repaired biological ships he hadn't a clue.
The fact that the Tundra was so important to the Nomads was rather... disturbing. What was it doing? What role did it serve overall? Who could know with Nomads, they were not bound to logical human thought processes.
Now the thought came... what should he do? Blow it up? The thought crossed his mind. Something told him, however, that there was more going on than met the eye. Something, he didn't know what, told him to go to the Order. They were supposed to have the genetically-enhanced humans there, why weren't they in action?
He set a course for Omicron Minor after tagging the Tundra with a tracer.
Halfway to the jumphole leading to Omicron Minor, a Liberty Navy battlegroup consisting of a dreadnought, two cruisers, and numerous fighter squads popped out of nowhere, turrets tracking the lone Sabre. Before he could even start dodging, a Nomad battleship decloaked directly in front of them and opened fire on everything, heavy cannons pounding the hapless Navy ships. Entire fighter and bomber squadrons were birthed from the Nomad battleship, bombers attacking the Navy capital ships and fighters dancing around to Jason, each ship moving to encircle and trap him.
To make matters worse, long range scanners indicated the approaching Tundra. Out of nowhere, Jason got this freezing feeling, as if his blood had turned to ice water. The sounds coming through the comm frequencies showed that it was a shared feeling.
Soon, the dreadnought was split in two, plasma fires, igniting the gases of the nebula, bellowing from the breaches in the hull. The two cruisers moved to regroup and align their main cannons, but failed to do so in time. They were similarily ripped to shreds. In disarray, the fighters scattered, fleeing for their lives and sanity amongst the mental-assault.
Jason himself was paralyzed. For the first time in months, it was awakening - the Nomad consciousness that was in his mind, the one he thought he had subjugated to his will. Stirring like a beast after a lengthy hibernation, it flexed its mighty muscles, slightly yawning in amusement.
While outside Jason's body did not so much as twitch, inside was a whole different matter. An epic power struggle waged between Jason and the malevolent force, titanic blows struck. Soon, sweat began to bead on his forehead, rolling down his face and back. The droplets soon turned to blood, and then his body did move - uncontrollable spasms. The Nomad ships outside had stopped circling, stopped moving, almost seemed to have stopped breathing.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
It was a white room... or space... it was something. No walls, ceiling or floor, though something had to support Jason's feet. He was standing, poised on the balls of his feet. In front of him was the Nomad, rejuvenated to almost its peak of power - something Jason had always feared. It paced back and forth, almost seeming conflicted. They fought, though it was no visible.
You cannot win, Mooore... this time I have the COMMUNITY <mindshare> with me...
It was a threatening whisper in Jason's mind, an unusual emphasis placed on his name. He was scared, but he fought on. He had to, because if he lost, he had a feeling all of humanity would lose with him.
Parry, parry, parry... stab, slice, right-hook, left-hook, gotta crush the defenses, completely overwhelm or undermine, whichever works best...
Jason woke in a cold sweat, sprawled on the floor of his cockpit behind the chair. Apparently he had spun a near one-eighty and fallen out sometime during the fight for his mind, which he had just won by a fingernail...
Staggering to his feet, he looked out the cockpit window to see the inside of a ship, walls and ceiling covered in some glowing blue substance, much like the Osiris had been. Not much surprise that the Nomads had taken the liberty of restricting his while he was out of it - hell, he was surprised they hadn't attacked yet.
Of course, a knocking from the hatch showed that it wouldn't take terribly long for them to get around to it.
Jason sprang for the gun he kept hidding under the main panel containing the ship controls, pulling it out and spinning in time to blow what he took for the head of a Nomad off as it ripped the door off its hinges.
Jumping over the door that had fallen to the ground, as well as the Nomad's corpse, Jason ran out of the ship. What he saw shocked him, though in hindsight it wasn't terribly surprising.
Row on row of escape pods were lined up against the far wall, as if there weren't enough Nomads for the number of humans being captured. Of course, there were Nomads about, as evidenced by the fact that quite a few were heading for the Sabre that lay idling on the floor of the launch deck. It was a matter of calculating risks. Offense or defense, run or fight, he decided that since he was trapped on the ship anyways that he might as well stand and fight.
Assuming a shooter's stance, Jason started picking off the Nomads coming at him one at a time, handgun kicking back into his hands with each shot. Five Nomads came at him, the last one skidded to a halt ten feet from Jason, "chin" first. Or whatever the hell that part of it was.
Had to stay on the move, had to find a way off the ship. The doors were sealed, of course, and the thought of blowing them open did cross his mind, but he had to remember the people he'd kill if he did that. They were still human, he couldn't... wait! The people!
Jason walked over to the escape pods and one by one opened them, shooting the lock that had been placed on each off. Order, Navy, Bounty Hunter, and Corsair pilots spilled forth, near incoherent in their expressions of gratitude once they realized he wasn't infected. All differences were forgotten in the face of the current situation - they had been enemies before, they were going to be enemies when they got off the ship, but right now they were allies against the larger threat.
"OK, we need a plan," Jason said as the last person was freed and they huddled together, 31 men and women in all. This was going to be interesting.