Despite being a key system to the Omegas and Omicrons, Omega-41 only rarely got as much attention as it got this day. Far away from Nicole Malakai's freeport's prying sensors were the Corsairs on the prawl. Any soul unfortunate enough to get in sensor range of these monsters was doomed, met with a sudden systems failure, followed by Angelitos taking care of any survivors.
Rocks were blasted apart and pushed aside. The capital ships didn't bother to manouver through the asteroid fields, they blatantly, full impulse ahead, breached through the lane. Vyu knew there was no time for comfort. Everything had to work exactly as planned. Every action had to follow the schedule. The tension on the bridge of the Sokol was solid enough, a knife could have cut through it like through hot butter. Too many ships were under her command, too many souls waiting for her orders. One mistake and everything would fail.
"Capitana, reports from the Maccana come in. The diversion worked, the Hessians called all available forces to Tangier. We're clear to proceed!" The young man with his peach fuzz mustache sat at the console behind the capitana's seat. The moment he said these words, everyone else on the bridge was automatically turning to their consoles, doing what they were supposed to do just now.
Vuy however remained where she was. Her gaze was glued to the main screen, her breath steady. A few more minutes, then her fleet would enter the jump hole to Omega-47. The proverbial red herring was expensive, but necessary. Any hessian ship spotting this fleet in the open areas of 47 was a dangerous threat to the operation. The sacrifice of a few bombers and a gunboat seemed reasonable. "Signal the transports to go in first. They shall cloak the moment we pass Casablanca. The Orinoco and the Leonidas need to get closer and keep the rocks away from us. If they fail at shooting these rocks out of our way, we could lose the payload."
"Si, Capitana!"
Following the orders, the Murmillo Orinoco and the Osiris Leonidas moved infront of the Legate Sokol. Maintaining speed and formation, the fleet proceeded to the 47 jump hole.
The sound of violins echoed through the hallways of the H.M.S. Leicestershire, originating from the office of Lord Bertram. The old Bretonian was tempted to close his eyes and simply let himself get carried away. The paperwork infront of him however required him to be awake. The fountain pen in his left hand left a rather dissatisfying stain on his signature, simply by having not paid attention. The tip was still on the paper as the latter soaked itself with the blue-black. The Lord sighed inwardly at the sight, then lifted his left hand and put the paper aside with the right. The next paper was waiting for his signature.
And another signature. When the music stopped, Lord Bertram put the pen away. He looked up, over to the other desk in this office, where a woman of his age was sitting, her silverish hair tied up to a bun, her glasses and suit making it obvious her duty on this ship was to act as personal secretary. She was reading a paper infront of her until she heard her name.
"Miss Carlyle," he began slowly, then licked over his lips while his left hand moved to reach for the cup of curacaoan tea on his table, "Have I ever told you the story about how Captain John Kathri accidentally stepped on the Admiral's dog's tail? It is quite an amusing story. I just had to think of it."
The elderly woman glanced over to the Lord. "I believe you told me this story twice already, Last time was a week ago, right after you spoke with Admiral Steiner."
"Ah, yes. The bloody admiral." He took a sip of his tea. "Ergh, I'm quite knackered. It has been rather quiet lately."
As if summoned by this phrase, the console on his desk beeped. "Rubbish." With his right hand, he pushed the button that was lighting up, and the voice of a considerably younger man was heard.
"Lord Bertram, flight control reports a foreign warship near Gran Canaria. It is the Apahanta. They are requesting permission to send a snub planetside to fetch materials from their storage at Las Palmas."
The Lord licked his lips again, his gaze at his secretary hinting disapproval. "Yes, yes, let them do. Get us a bit closer to it, about eight kilometers. Scan them and keep them tracked. But don't do anything disruptive. The Admiralty considers them allies."
"Aye Aye, my lord!" With a beep, the channel was closed.
Lord Bertram leaned back in his chair, taking another sip from his cup. Then he placed it back on the table. "Once in a blue moon that lad shows up with his bloody so-called independent warship. Nobody really knows what's the deal with them. There are only rumors about them being hired by the Crown to hunt criminals and Nomads. Quite the irony, Miss Carlyle. Since the declaration of Martial Law, we've become more and more like Liberty, allowing everyone to run around with knife and gun. Even strangers."
Once more the console beeped. The Lord sighed slightly annoyed while his hand moved to the button.
"Lord Bertram, patrols report cloaked signatures at the Omega-47 jump hole. Stirling Command sent the Yorktown and escorts to disrupt the cloakees. Yellow Alert was advised."
Lord Bertram kneaded the skin of his forehead with thumb and index finger. "Understood. Signal Yellow Alert." Then the channel was closed. "Probably just another bunch of Zoners."
The shielded hangar bay opened up, the hatches spitting out a Hussar-class Light FIghter. Shortly afterwards, the Apahanta cloaked again while the snub headed down to the surface of Gran Canaria, to the capital city of Las Palmas. But this time this was no vacation trip. This time, it was business, and quite a dangerous one.
A HOT GEAR hovercar was waiting already at the spaceport, for the time being piloted by a trusty Ageira Service Robot. Ezrael stood infront of the hovercar, Noel to his side. They wore civilian clothes over their Apahanta suits, almost as if to hide the fact they were just coming from a certain independent warship in the orbit. But there was a reason to it.
"Get out, please," Ezrael ordered the ASR, and the robot complied, leaving the hovercar. "Stay here at the spaceport. We should be back in one or two hour, most likely less. Wait here and bring the car back to the outlet. Then resume normal duty," the Captain sounded, followed by an acknowledging beep of the robot. With a slight smirk on his face, Ezrael entered the hovercar and sat down on the driver's seat, while Noel moved around to enter the car from the other side to sit next to Ezrael.
"My heart is rushing," the boy said quietly and looked out of the front window.
His mentor placed a hand on his shoulder, shaking him very slightly. "Everything will work out, don't worry. Try to relax. And try to enjoy the cruise, Noel. I don't think we'll get to do something like this again anytime soon. And not many people can afford a luxury like this. I think this is one of the more expensive models we have," the Curacaoan explained, refering to the HOT GEAR hovercar.
"I'll try." While his heart was still beating wildly, simply because this was such a risky job, Noel took a deep breath. Exhaling, inhaling. Exhaling... inhaling... "Is this the so-called new car smell?" he asked.
"Yes, it is" Ezrael replied and smirked at him. Removing his hand from Noel's shoulder, he started the engine. Short time later, the hovercar was levitating and moved away from the spaceport while the Ageira Service Robot moved into the main building.
The prospect of just cruising around like this was inviting. Ezrael liked it, just trying to enjoy what he was doing. The engines were powerful for a hovercar, the design top-notch and sporty. Being the secret CEO of a company for planetside vehicles had certainly some nice traits. But there was no time for this. Freya and Isaak were waiting, hopefully. He was coming for them earlier than he had told them, just in case of anyone intercepting the transmission. This had to work out and run smoothly, otherwise the Generalmajor would cause a lot of trouble.
The tall commercial zone buildings were getting smaller and smaller the more they left the center of the capital city, soon to be replaced by patches of deuterium refineries before the hovercar lowered the altitude and reached the residential area, the outer tenements of Las Palmas. The place where all kinds of people lived as anonymous individuals rather than upper-class society members of Canaria. The air was getting a bit colder in this more open area, something Ezrael hated about this planet.
What he hated more was the hovercar behind them. Blue color, casual design. It was behind them for more than five minutes now. It didn't make any attempt to move faster and pass by, nor did it switch lanes or turned away. For a moment, Ezrael looked to the side, to Noel, who hadn't realized it yet. In fact, the young man was actually enjoying this flight, looking dreamily out of the window next to him. Once more Ezrael looked into the mirror. The chasing vehicle didn't seem to be armed. He couldn't tell who was in there, or how many. How could anyone have known about his job? It was impossible, Bretonia wasn't able to know about this.
This was bad. What to do now? For now, he refrained from alerting Noel. Maybe this was less troublesome than he expected it to be.
The live feed from the Yorktown was transmitted to the Stirling and the Leicestershire at Canaria. There was a satisfied smile on Lord Bertram's face as he followed the event on the main screen of the bridge. His cup of tea was not far from him on the little table next to the Captain's seat.
"Targets disabled and disarmed, Stirling, you can send in the transport now. First scan results are in and found contraband. Typical case, Zoners trying to support the Sairs," the voice of the radio operator of the Yorktown sounded over the comms while the live feed showed the view from one of the present snubs.
"Roger that. Can you confirm these ships are affiliated with the Zoners or any of their groups?" It was another voice, coming from the Stirling.
"They are refusing to talk, Commodore, and the ships are not registered in our database. Dromedary-class freighters, open market models. They aren't transmitting any IFF identification right now, but we had this multiple times done by Zoners in the recent weeks. We doubt this is different this time, except for them being better equipped."
There was a short break before the Stirling would respond. "Yorktown, do you read any additional signatures in the area?"
Another short break. Lord Bertram took a sip from his cup. His smile was gone.
"Negative, Commodore. It's only these three freighters and ourselves. That being said, we are still pretty close to the 47 jump hole. It might affect the sensor readings."
"Rubbish," Lord Bertram intoned, more to himself than to anyone else on the bridge. He then took another sip.
"Yorktown, we're deploying the Derby with an escort. Keep an eye on the sensors. ETA three minutes." As the Stirling's Commodore said that, a Percheron-class transport with a full escort wing undocked from the bretonian battleship and headed on cruise to the location.
Lord Bertram took a deep breath as he watched the feed. It showed the arrival of the Derby at the scene. There was something weird about this situation. The cloaked signatures were reported many minutes ago. Three cloaked freighters, and they didn't move towards Canaria but remained at the jump hole. The Yorktown had an easy game finding und uncloaking them. What where these freighters waiting for?
"Ensign, open a channel to the St-" Just in that moment, the live feed died. Lord Bertram stood up and looked at the main screen saying in big letters [NO SIGNAL]. The feed then switched to the view from the Yorktown, strongly disrupted, no audio, just video. Then the audio kicked in again.
"Mayday, mayday! Yorktown to all available ships in range, we are under attack by two Corsair cruisers and escorts! Requesting assistance!" There were sounds of explosions, buckling hulls and electrical discharges as well as the voices of multiple people, some screaming. Over time, the voices became less. "I repeat, Yorktown to all available vessels, we are under attack! We got ambushed! We lost a snub wing, the Derby and the Nottingham, the Chester about to break apart and we won't last long against two cruisers! We need help!"
Ezrael was fully aware of them being chased. And the chasers were expecting that. "Ah, see that, Frank? He's trying to shake us off," Jim said. The slighly chubby Bretonian was piloting the blue hovercar and pointed at the sportsy HOT GEAR hovercar infront of them as it was taking a turn to another street. "That's how you know he knows we're chasing him. First they notice you, then they take more turns than necessary and take longer ways to see whether you stick to them, and then they usually do something stupid and go full speed." He pointed at Ezrael's car. "Then the BPA gets alerted and chases them and then they get a ticket, and then the BIS can investigate without making it look weird."
"Are you certain, though? Maybe he just doesn't find the right street?" Frank asked his boss. His voice was quite affected by his giant nose.
"This man successfully captains an independent warship equipped with some of the most advanced goodies of Sirius, mate. He's probably one of the most clever guys out there. Don't underestimate him," Jim responded, following the car infront of him in the most blatantly obvious way.
"Shouldn't we be more careful then? More covert than overt?" the Bretonian with the big nose suggested. But Jim shook his head.
"As I said, don't underestimate him. I'm pretty sure, even if we hid ourselves and observed him only from the distance, he'd have found out. His ship is in a very low orbit, cloaked. They are watching him and they would have tracked us as well. But now that we are following him like this, we're putting some pressure on him, my friend. And when people are under pressure, they tend to make mistakes."
They stopped. Ezrael's car had stopped, infront of one of the tenement buildings. It was a rather nice street with many trees and the buildings didn't look like garbage despite of some graffiti here and there. Plenty of other cars in the street, some people walking around. Jim and Frank had there eyes glued to the car infront of them. Nothing happened. For about five minutes, then Ezrael left the car. Jim then looked over at the building. "Write down street and number and check the database. I want to know who lives here and why Vertiga came here."
"Eh, I think that answers it," Frank just commented. He pointed at Vertiga. The Curacaoan was moving upstars to the front entrance of the building, where a tall woman opened the door. Quite athletic. Ezrael embraced her and kissed her on her lips. Then a second kiss, longer than the first one. His right hand was moving down to her bum.
"... well, that's also something he is known for. Bloody gigolo." The two Bretonians kept watching Vertiga, and it seemed like he was taking his sweet time with the woman. "Check the registry for her name."
"Have it already. Freya Meyer, 32, from Rheinland. Normal citizen, didn't make any troubles since we took over here. Lives here with her son, Isaak, nine years old. Nothing else in her file, no notes about a relationship." Frank pointed at the car. "By the way, Vertiga's boy is still in there. We don't have anything on that one. Wasn't listed in the crew roster."
"Maybe some newcomer. Make a note, Admiral Steiner or Dagon can pester him about it later." They were still making out, then moved into the building. "Alright, I want you to launch a drone and have it keep an eye on them through the windows. They'll probably head for the bedroom for now, record that as well. I'll have a little talk with the boy in the meantime."
Not waiting for any response, Jim opened the car door and left the vehicle. A few seconds later, Frank left the car as well and headed for the trunk to open it. The air was slightly salty. The beach was not far away, maybe around two miles.
Noel remained waiting in the right front seat. First he gazed at Ezrael and Freya making out at the door. It looks as real as it could get. As if they knew each other already. It was probably weird for the woman, but they needed to play it out this way. It was supposed to look like him merely visiting a girl he once shagged and possibly was going to shag again. Sighing, Noel looked in the mirrors, realizing the chubby Bretonian was approaching the sports car. "Oh scheiße..." Oh *****...
Gulping, he received a response via the little device hiding in his ear. "What's happening?" Ezrael asked from inside the house.
The chubby Bretonian was almost next to the car door. "They are up to something, one of them is right next to me."
"You know what to do. Buy us time, but don't do something stupid."
Noel leaned back in the seat, pretending he hadn't seen the Bretonian in the mirrors. A few seconds later, the chubby one stood next to the door and knocked against the window, which caused a faked surprise to Noel. He looked up at the Bretonian, giving him a confused look.
"Good day, Sir. I couldn't help but admire this car you have," the Bretonian said, it coming through muffled because of the closed window. Noel's expression didn't change. "Would you please lower the window for a minute?"
But Noel didn't react. Then the Bretonian made a gesture, waving with his hand, pushing down an imaginery window and pointed at the button to do so on the other side of the door. But Noel didn't do it, giving the Bretonian a suspicious look. He shook his head, acting as if the Bretonian was a weird stranger. Technically, he was.
"Young man, I have you know, I am an inspector of the Bretonian Intelligence Service. Please do as I say. I would like to ask a few questions." But Noel gave him a confused look again. Then he turned away. Ezrael was able to listen. The little device in Noel's ear was transfering the sound to the house.
"The BIS. Damn!" Ezrael merely commented from inside.
"Listen, fella, if you don't come out, I'll get you out there. One way or another." The Bretonian seemed to be losing patience (instead of weight), and Noel once more gazed up at him, signaling him he doesn't understand what he says by pointing at the chubby one, then at his own ear and then he shrugged.
"Ick versteh'se nich," he said in his best rheinlandian accent and dialect. I don't understand you.
"Could you repeat that?" the Bretonian asked, not having understood him, both because Noel was rather silent as well as himself not understanding a single word of Rheinlandian.
Smirking inwardly, Noel shrugged again. It was obvious now. He pretended to not understand english while pretending to only speak rheinlandian. Inside the building, Ezrael smiled at his play. The Bretonian tried to open the car door, but it was locked. He gave Noel an angry look, then pulled out his BIS badge and held it infront of the window, showing it to the boy. Noel then leaned closer against the window and looked at it. He probably didn't need to know what it was saying - and he was well able to read english - so he lowered the window and looked up at the agent. "Watt woll'n'se denn?" What do you want?
"Could you speak english, please?" the agent asked, putting the badge away again. Noel gave him another confused look. "English?"
"Nö, ick sprech keen englüsch. Sprechen'se rheinländüsch?" Noel returned. No, I don't speak english. Do you speak rheinlandian?
"Rubbish," the agent sounded, more to himself while glaring at Noel. Then he turned to their own car, glancing at his partner. Frank was launching the tiny drone, barely larger than a wasp. It moved to the building and then to the windows, while Frank checked the camera feed on a monitor in the car. "Frank, didn't you say you can speak rheinlandian?"
Frank shook his head, more focused on the monitor. Jim then looked back at Noel, then had an idea. He pulled out his PDA and opened up the translator app. "I'm working for the Bretonian Intelligence Service. I want to ask a few questions."
He then showed the PDA to Noel. The english words were recorded and translated into rheinlandian: Ich arbeite für die Bretonianische Intelligenz Bedienung. Ich möchte einige Fragen stellen.
Noel chuckled for a moment, genuinely, as the translation of BIS was rather literal than contextual. Then he nodded at the Bretonian, who then moved the PDA closer to his mouth. "Identify yourself and tell us what you're doing here."
The PDA translated it. Identifizieren Sie sich und erzählen Sie uns was Sie hier tun.
Noel moved his head closer to the PDA and spoke up. "Ick bin Max und sitz' hier bis Ez fertich jefickt hat. Dat kann leider'n Weilchen dauern, wissen'se?"
The PDA translated. I am Max and sit here until Ez is done fucking. Sadly this could take a while, you know.
Jim read it and first gave the boy a look that was hinting something that otherwise could be interpreted as too much information. But it was not. The chubby Bretonian turned to Frank and moved a few steps towards him. "Frank, what do you see?"
"Well, uhm... looks like they are going for it. She just turned on the music, so I can't hear what they are talking about, but they are in what seems to be the bedroom and she is undressing him. Shall I keep recording?" Frank asked, his eyes glued to the monitor.
"Uh," Jim first sounded, not really having expected that. "Yes, and keep a close eye on them. Check thermal vision, maybe they are just pretending. I mean, we made him know we're here." Frank nodded, while Jim moved back to the car and held the PDA close to his mouth again. "What's your full name? And who are you talking about?"
PDA: Wie lautet dein voller Name? Und von wen sprichst du?
Noel gave him a confused look, again. "Mustermann. Max Mustermann. Ick dacht' ja eijentlich ihr Kerle wüsstet, wem ihr auf die Pelle rückt. Wat wollt'a denn von uns? Ha'mm'wa watt falsch jemacht?" the boy asked back, using the german version of John Doe to identify himself.
PDA: Mustermann. Max Mustermann. I actually thought you guys would know who you're stalking. What do you want from us? Did we do anything wrong?
"Nothing to worry about, my boy. Just answer my questions. We're just curious what you're doing," Jim said, trying to be the nice guy before pulling the other card.
PDA: Nichts weswegen man sich Sorgen machen müsste, mein Junge. Beantworte einfach meine Fragen. Wir sind einfach neugierig was ihr macht.
"Oke," Noel replied, guessing that word didn't need a translation. "Also wat war die Fraje nomma?"
PDA: Okay. So what was the question again?
The chubby Bretonian exhaled, slightly impatient. "I was asking who you two are, what you lads are doing here and what else you are going to do during your stay on Canaria," Jim said and held the PDA infront of Noel.
PDA: Ich hatte gefragt wer Sie zwei sind, was Sie Burschen hier machen und was Sie sonst noch vorhaben solange Sie hier sind.
"Uh, tja," Noel began, scratching his nose innocently while the device in his ear was still transmitting. "Also mein' Nam' kenn'se ja jetz', ne? Und meen Kumpel hier, also da drinne, das is' Ezrael Vertiga. Sollten'se aber wissen, weil'er ja g'rad' noch 'uf'm Schiff war. Und watt'er macht könn'se sich ja jarantiert ooch vorstell'n." The boy paused, then continued before the agent took the PDA back to read. "Se wissen schon, er hat's mit den Weibern. Wollte noch eben eine von seenen ollen Perlen besuchen, einma' von innen oosputzen und dann hol'n wa dit Zeug vonna Lajerhalle in Las Palmas. Aber wie jesacht, dit kann'en Weilchen dauern. Wenn'se Frajen ha'm, hätten'se ja eenfach unser Schüff anfunken könn', die ha'ms auch mehr mit englüsch. Ick bin da ja eher wenijer versiert, ne?"
PDA: So my name you already know, right? And my pal here, I mean in there, that's Ezrael Vertiga. But you should know, since he was just a few moments ago on the ship. And what he is doing you surely can guess. [Pause] You know, he has it with the women. Just wanted to visit one of his old flames, [ununderstandable] and then we go fetch the stuff from the storage in Las Palmas. But as I said, this could take a while. If you have any questions, you should have tried to contact our ship, as they are better at english. I'm obviously less skilled.
Like this, the interview would continue, while literally anywhere else, the action just started.
The Corsairs had successfully ambushed the bretonian patrol near the Omega-47 jump hole. The Yorktown was disabled, drifting into the depths of the Barrier cloud. Her escorts and the Derby were destroyed. But now Bretonia knew what was going on. Yellow Alert for the entire system, waypoint set near the docking ring. The Stirling would stay back, being more of a logistical support than a frontline warship. The Leicestershire and her strike group would take that job.
While Lord Bertram and the Commodore on the Stirling were discussing the situation via comm link, people planetside noticed the repositioning of the Leicestershire and other ships. Something was going on.
Isaak had no idea. He was having a nap, and even the rather loud music that suddenly played upstairs was - luckily for everyone involved - not waking him up. It was the firstbest rock music channel Ezrael had found and the PDA was shooting the sound out loud enough that it was almost impossible for someone to talk with all that noise. And that was the point of it. The Curacaoan sat down at the side of the bed. It was Freya's bedroom. It was the woman Anna Heinrich elected to protect her son. The introduction to each other was as overwhelming as it was awkward to her, but she had played along well.
She stood infront of him, her face flushed. He patted the spot next to him, and she came closer. Maybe he would speak up now, but with all that noise? She had seen him closing the windows of this room as well as closing the curtains. He seemed alright. After all, Anna had sent him to help them. It was just awkward how he showed up and told her to play along and then kissed her, even touched her bum.
He leaned in, almost as if to kiss her, but he aimed for her ear. "Two BIS agents are out there. I don't know what they are up to, whether there is a mowl on your side or something, but so far they didn't do anything. I assume they are just keeping an eye on me, as they wouldn't have needed to wait for me to come here and get you two. I know it's much to ask, but I need you to pretend us having sex. Don't worry, we'll not do the actual thing, it just needs to look like it. In the meantime, I we can talk as long as the music runs. Is that okay to you?"
Freya hesitated before she nodded. She certainly was not an amateur. Protecting Isaak required some acting here and some willpower there. He smelled good and wasn't ugly at all. So she stood up and sat down on his lap, leaning into him, pretending to kiss his neck. "How are we going to proceed, then?" she asked, then placed her lips without much ambition on his skin, a hand of hers sliding under his leather jacket. She realized he was wearing some kind of skin-tight flight suit under his clothes, something she didn't see earlier.
"My friend is out there in the car and keeps me informed on what the BIS agents are doing. He'll try to keep them away from us. It is important, however, that you, him and I stick to the same story, as I can imagine they will question us later. Either here or at the space port, because, well, the child. Bretonia knows who I am, and they know I don't have a child, but they know I have a certain history with women. So it doesn't look suspicious at all if I come here to visit one. That's your part." He smirked at her and then pecked her on her lips. He kept his face close to hers. "You and I have met around two years ago here in Las Palmas in the Mega-49 club and then had a one-night-stand and have been in touch since then every now and then. I've come here today without telling you, so it is a surprise. Don't tell them openly that we slept together, though. Try to make it look like you don't want to have people know about it, so they think you're uncomfortable because of talking about such things, not because it's a lie. Don't look down, that means you lie. Don't look up, that means you don't know the answer. Look into their faces with discomfort, maybe a bit of shame."
"Las Palmas, Mega-49, one-night-stand. How do you pronounce your name?" she asked him, kissing his cheek while her hand moved down to his thigh.
"Ezra-el Ver-tiga. Also, sorry for grabbing your butt," he said, being more reluctant about touching her than her. "I do expect them to use spy drones to check us out. Tiny flying cams. That's why I closed the curtains and cranked up the music. I don't want them to hear us, and being this close to each other, they won't be able to read our lips."
"Did you do something like this already?" she asked him before nuzzling his nose with hers.
"Yes. Trust me, it'll work."
"Och kommen'se schon, se müssen doch nich gleich'n Aufstand machen, nur weil ich'ma nich ausweesen kann," Oh come on, you don't need to let this escalate like this, just because I don't have my ID with me. Noel protested, standing next to the HOT GEAR car, spread legs, arms against the chassis while Agent Jim was searching the young man's body. The agent's hand was checking the pocket of the boy's black jeans, noticing something beneath the cloth. Slightly amused, Noel let out a clearly sexual moan and the agent got the idea of what he had just jerked. He then proceeded with the other pockets, but didn't found anything. "Was denn, wollen'se nich weitermachen? Bin ja nich'ma hart jeworden," What, aren't you going to finish? Didn't even get hard. Noel added, enjoying this clearly too much.
Jim didn't react to the taunting, mostly because he didn't understand it anyway. To him, Noel seemed to merely be a little rowdy without an ID, and this lack of ID was exactly what he needed to bait Vertiga. A few moments later, with some rough pulling, the BIS agent managed to cuff Noel's hands behind his back and moved with him back to the car of the BIS agents. He got a nice place on the backseats. Frank sat in the front right place, Jim moved to the pilot seat and closed the door. They both looked at the screen infront of Frank, which was showing the thermal signatures of Ezrael and Freya in the building. Noel saw it from the backseats and smirked at it. If it was faked, it was not visible. She was riding him.
"Why did you arrest the boy?" Frank asked, his eyes glued to the screen.
"That way Vertiga can't just bail. It's a bit risky, but genius over here has no ID with him, so we're fine on our part. We could technically just leave and have Vertiga come to us, but I want to know what he'll do once they are done there." Jim sighed. "Who knows, if they make mistakes, we might get the permission to search his ship. I'm sure some higher-ups would love to get a report on that one."
"Eh," Frank intoned, "They probably have everything already. He unknowingly recruited the blonde from office thirteen."
"What? We already have one there? Oh man." Jim looked into the rearview mirror, at Noel. "Erh, who knows. Maybe we can get some answers out of that one. Check the registry, by the way. His name is Max Mustermann," the chubby agent said.
Frank then gave Jim a confused look. "Is this a bloody joke?" Frank asked, followed by him scoffing.
"Why?" Jim responded, not understanding.
"Mate, that's the rheinlandian version of John Doe. I'll guarantee you, his name is not Max Mustermann," Frank explained, and both BIS agents turned around to look at Noel, who grinned at them.
"Alright, Joker, you're going to tell us your name, now." Jim gave the boy an angry look, until he realized that he still didn't understand english. So he took out his PDA and said it again.
PDA: Also gut, Scherzkeks, Sie werden uns nun Ihren Name verraten.
"'N Scheißdreck werd' ich. Was wollt'a'n machen, mich festnehmen?" Noel replied in a cheeky way.
PDA: The fuck I'll do. What are you going to do about it, arrest me?
Frank hid a smirk. "You have to admit, he has a point, Jim."
While the Leicestershire's battlegroup grew stronger and stronger, receiving reinforcements from all over the system as well as hiring Bounty Hunters on-spot, the Corsair fleet didn't waste time and moved right towards the position of the Stirling. Unbeknownst to the Bretonians, the dreadnought was missing. The entire situation up there didn't affect anything planetside yet.
Noel was still arrested, cuffed to the backseats of the BIS hovercar, still pretending to not understand english. That way he was spying on the spies, while Ezrael was able to eevesdrop on them via the device in the boy's ear. The screen infront of Frank still showed the action in the bedroom. The staged act was done well enough. Jim wrote down some notes in his PDA, ignoring the boy behind him entirely. At some point, Noel stopped being snarky and just watched them and the screen.
"I don't know, JIm. They really take their time." Frank looked into the rearview mirror, then at Jim. "Do you really want to wait here for two hours?"
"What's wrong, not a fan of observation? I tell you, it'll pay off." Jim said and patted Frank's shoulder twice in a rather rough way.
"I don't mind observation, that's not the issue. But we're acting pretty much off-protocol here. If we fuck this up, we might get relocated to some distant freeport, like the guy they sent to Freeport 10. And we have this boy here, I don't think you're supposed to do observation with a guy you already arrested." Noel was looking out of the window, not reacting to what they were talking about.
"I have a good feeling about this. For example, they are faking the sex the entire time," Jim said and pointed at the screen. "Look, they do only certain positions. They only do positions that don't allow us to see specific things. They are dry-humping under the blanket. No oral, no handwork. You'd expect more from a guy who has like ten videos of himself on the neural net of him getting it from multiple women. I guess Vertiga told her to play along and I guess he is fully aware that we are spying on them, which is why he turned up the music and closed the curtains."
This was bad, Noel thought. He couldn't react to it, but that was most likely not necessary, given Ezrael was able to listen, if the music wasn't too loud to cover it. Maybe these guys were more clever than they behaved.
"They are hiding something. I just don't know what it is, yet," the chubby Bretonian sounded.
Frank sighed. "Or you're just trying to tell that to yourself. Look, there. I think he's finishing on her," he said, pointing at the screen. The feed was very specific and one could guess the shapes. It didn't look fake, because it wasn't. Jim took a closer look at the screen, grinding his teeth.
"That's either a big coincidence or they heard what I said," Jim said, staring at what was happening.
"Probably the former. The latter would imply that they somehow bugged the car, which is impossible. And you searched the boy, right? No hidden devices?" Frank asked the chubby man.
Jim glanced at the boy through the mirrow. He had searched him. Nothing in his pockets, nothing under his clothes. If anything, the device would have been required to be inside the boy's body, which he didn't check. There were possibilities, but Jim didn't want to think about it. It would have meant admitting to possible mistakes. "Na, the bloody boy is fine. You're prolly right."
"Good. Because if they had listened to us, they'd know about the BIS agent on their ship. That'd be a fuck-up on our end that would get us into trouble you can't even imagine," Frank explained, looking at Jim. The latter gulped.
"Don't worry." Jim said.
"I'm not worried." Frank sounded quietly, not very convincing.
Jim took a deep breath. Then looked at Frank. "I mean, if there are unforeseen circumstances... something we didn't think of, then we'd need to make sure they can't share what they might have found out."
Frank moaned in annoyance. Noel then saw both moving. They pulled their guns. "The third time, Jim. It's the third time we need to do this."
"Look, I told you this man is clever. Leave the boy alive, he doesn't know anything, and we can later scan him and say he spied on us, which lead to us having been required to get rid of Vertiga." Jim opened the car door and stepped out. Frank did the same on his side. Noel's heart was rushing. These men were about to assassinate Ezrael. But when he looked at the screen, he realized neither Freya nor Ezrael were in the bedroom. Nobody was there. Frank and Jim moved to the building, hiding their guns in the pockets of their trenchcoats.
"They are coming, Ezrael. Each of them with a gun, no idea what type. Possibly projectile guns. I guess you'll be able to test the MSG today," Noel said quietly, knowing Ezrael was listening.
The young rheinlandian boy gazed out of the window, trying to see what was going on. Frank stood left from the door to the tenement building, Jim right. Both had their hands in the pockets of their trenchcoats, which probably meant they had a grip on their guns. The cubby one rang the door bell. Seconds later, the door opened. Jim faced a child, Isaak, who looked up at the man with a smile. They talked, then Isaak let the two men in. The door closed.
What was happening now was remaining unknown to Noel, and it irked him. He was unable to help it. Or was he? He was still cuffed to the backseats. Luckily Sombra wasn't around, he thought, as she would have enjoyed that sight. He tried to free himself, but there was nothing he was able to accomplish. Despite his arms and fingers being very slender, the cuffs were too tight.
Then he heard something. Loud sirens! He had no idea what they were supposed to mean. Noel looked out of the window, and then understood what was happening. Something was going on in the sky. Something huge was at the horizon. A Corsair Dreadnought. Bretonian Fighters were whirling around, fighting with Corsair Titans. While the Dreadnought was far away, the fighters weren't. Not at all. They were getting closer.
Swallowing, Noel looked around. There had to be some way for him to get out of the car. And then he saw it. Jim had left the car keys on the dashboard. Maybe the guy was actually an idiot! But Noel wouldn't be able to reach the keys like that. Or was he? His hands were cuffed, his legs were not. Another look outside, the Titans were getting closer and closer, chased by the Bretonians. What was the deal with them? Looked like they were trying to lure the fighters away from the Dreadnought.
He tried to reach the keys with his boots in an awkward position, but it didn't work. He was too short. It was frustrating.
Gunfire! What? The boy looked out the window again, into the sky, where the fighters started to fight. The Corsairs were recklessly firing around, and some Tizona shots hit the buildings on the ground. The Bretonians tried to lift the battle away from the tenements, but in the end, they had to return fire. If one of these ships was gunned down right over them, the debris would cause a lot of damage.
Noel had to escape somehow. He had to. Taking a deep breath, he tried to pull his right hand out of the cuff, knowing fully well it was only possible if he hurt himself that way. He pulled, and pulled, and pulled. It hurt! He had to close his eyes. He wanted to survive this. Debris was falling from the sky, shots hit the buildings and the street.
Then, suddenly, there was someone knocking at the window. It was Ezrael. "Missed me?" he asked with a smirk. It was followed by a shot out of his blaster. A fine way of opening locked car doors, he figured. Climbing into the car, he shot the chain that held Noel there. "I'll take care of the handcuffs later. Come, we need to leave!"
"What about the BIS agents?" Noel asked, glad to see his hero. They left the car and headed for the HOT GEAR car, where Freya and Isaak had already entered the backseats.
"She gunned them down," the Curacaoan told him. "Come, we need to leave at once!"
They ran over to the car and entered it, Ezrael taking the pilot seat. The doors closed and the vehicle began to hover over the ground. Thrusting away, they managed to escape just in time before a gunned down Titan crashed into the tenements, the explosion causing the ammunition to blow up in a magazine breach. Had they taken a minute longer, they'd have died.
Noel looked at the scene in the rearview mirror. The BIS car was destroyed. The building was destroyed. The fight was still going on, however. Ezrael placed a hand on the boy's knee. "You did great, Noel. Now we just need to get to the space port and get out of here. Looks like the Corsairs are trying to free the planet again, or conquer it."
Noel sat in his seat, his hands still behind his back as they were still cuffed. He glanced over to the backseats, where Freya sat, with Isaak leaning against her. "Did you hear everything they said, Ez?" the boy asked.
"Not everything," Ezrael replied, boosting through the streets. "You can tell me later. I'd really like to know why they suddenly wanted to kill us." He patted his knee. "Seriously, Noel. You can be proud of yourself. If you hadn't warned us, we would have gotten killed."
The hovercar managed to reach the crowded spaceport of Las Palmas. People wanted to leave the planet, not knowing which side would win this time. Pictures of the battle in space were shown as live feed on some screens, and while the Corsairs had brought in two battleships, the Bretonians fielded more snubs, bombers and gunboats. It was impossible to tell which side was currently winning.
Ignoring the mess at the spaceport, the hovercar landed directly next to the Attractive Rover, Vertiga's Hussar-class Light Fighter. Not wasting any time, the group left the car behind and climbed into the cargo hold of the tiny ship while Ezrael aimed directly for the cockpit.
The Hussar's engines began to lit up. The tiny ship launched into the air, leaving behind the spaceport. There were other ships launching as well, and Corsair Titan's were intercepting the bretonian ships. It was the moment when Ezrael realized that this ship he chose as personal shuttle was a poor choice in this system where everyone was hating Bretonians. As such, the Corsairs were approaching the fast little ship, chasing it into the sky.
"Erh, shit," Ezrael commented when the shields took the first hits. He leaned forward for a moment to push a button on the console infront of him while focusing on dodging. While he was definitely not a good combat pilot, dodging was something he got to train a bunch of times already, mostly on the remote-controlled rovers. "Apahanta, we need some firecover. Heading back to you, but we're chased by Corsair snubs. Move into the low orbit as far as you can!"
"Good to hear from you, Captain. We're already on the way." It was the voice of Commander Sherry Aguilar, and she was reliable just as usual. The message was followed by waypoint coordinates and Ezrael corrected his route to move there. The shields took a few hits but regenerated fast enough. The Corsairs however used cruise disruptors to prevent escape velocity. It was another stress test for Ezrael, while the three people in the cargo hold had no idea what was going on. Freya held Isaak close to her body, while Noel tried to remain calm. He was more annoyed about his hands still being cuffed behind his back.
"There you are, my love," Ezrael mumbled as the Apahanta emerged out of a cloud. The Attractive Rover headed straight for it. "Don't open the hangar doors yet. It's too risky with these Titan's out there. Gun them down, we'll fly circles around you until we have some air!"
It took a few minutes, but the Dual Gatling Lasers eventually made the enemy understand that they wouldn't be able to achieve much here. The three remaining Titans turned around and cruised out, chased by a few final shots. With the biggest threat gone, the Hussar headed into the hangar and landed. Relieved, Ezrael let out a sigh and brushed some strands of his thick black hair out of his view. It was slightly sticking to his forehead from the sweat. He opened the cargo bay, allowing Freya, Isaak and Noel to leave the snub. Then he did that as well.
"Noel," he began while climbing out of the cockpit to reach the ground, "Bring Freya and the child to the medical bay. Let Dr. Carr check them and you as well, and tell her to, well, remove those cuffs from you."
"You heard the Captain," Noel sounded and smirked at Freya and Isaak. "Follow me, please."
While the boy did as he was ordered and the guests complied, Ezrael made his way to the bridge. The mission was not over yet and the battle was still out there.