It had taken a long time to get to this point. 250 years or so. No one is entirely sure. Some say it was when thousands of manufacturing jobs on Denver were outsourced to Kishiro. Still others think it earlier when Interspace liquidated its shipping division. Most others think it was the Dallas Incident, an accident brought about by greedy corporate executives pushing scientists past safety and reason to the death of a thousand innocent workers. In truth it was all of that and more. The most powerful and wealthy house in Sirius could not have gotten where it is today without breaking a few eggs...or a few families.
However long it had taken for the outrage to boil over was irrelevant now. All of that time spent recruiting in the prisons, eeking a living from the good graces of Zoners or the odd sympathetic civilian was about to change. Now the cheap talk was finished. No more back room meetings. No more polite gun show sermons on lower class living conditions or workers rights. No more conspiracy theory chit chat and rumor-mongering. It was the time to act. One of the final acts of corporate greed and Manhattan elitism owas taking form here in Hudson and finally there were people there, common people, ready to put a stop to it.
When the agreements where made to act the rest was simple. Civilian fighters were purchased with bogus identities and modified to carry heavy weaponry. They were crude, but effective vessels. The two pilots now floating without power in the Sitka field had learned through trial and error how to fly them. Both of them were former DSE machinists, having never piloted anything more than a loading jack their entire lives before 3 months ago. Sheer tenacity and a healthy dose of desperate hope had driven them to this situation. They were here making new lives for themselves. They never allowed their thoughts to stray back home to the desperate situation there. They looked forward, and it gave them hope. There were those back in Liberty who prayed for them. A wife and newborn baby on Houston for the one, a sister on Denver for the other, but they were far away.
Being the first freedom fighters to usher in the new era the two pilots had given each other call-signs. The Houstonian was given the call-sign 'Lonestar,' the Denverite was named "Paddy." The two pilots had powered down their ships to avoid detection from the occasional navy patrol. They floated close enough to exchange hand signals, but there was little to talk about. Just a few more hours after centuries of waiting...
Same day
Planet Houston
Planetform convoy 42 was 7 days out of California Minor when they passed within range of the Mississippi. Bretonians comprised most of the crew of both large transports though there were a few Californians in the crew as well. Young greenhorns for the most part, looking for big pay on a deep space convoy.
As the convoy slowed for the requisite hat tipping to the Liberty navy, 3 Defender class heavy fighters closed in and hailed the new arrivals. Permission was granted for a ship-wide scan and the Planetform employees hunkered down for the 30 minutes the navy ships would need to scan the holds.
Captaining the transport Hammond was Hue O'Connor, corporate officer in command of the expedition. O'Connor was on the bridge drinking tea and reading his display. Logged into the Corporate network, a signal being bounced through relay stations in Liberty all the way From Canterbury, he parused the details of his current assignment.
The Captain skimmed through the assortment of executive BS that precedes the important part of any company document. Letters from the CEO, the Queen, insurance policies from Interspace etc. etc. There were a full 10 pages of padding before O'Connor found what he was looking for.
Atka survey Alpha, operational window-6 months: conduct planetary survey. Coraborate survey probe data concerning plate tectonics and the possibility of exploitation. Survey surrounding debris fields for possible material augmentation operations. Survey the Hudson star, particularly X-ray and gamma emissions. Negotiate simple supply trade arrangement with inhabitants of Freeport 2.
It seemed a short list but in the captains long experience even the simplest task can absorb time on a deep space mission like this. They could do it all in 6 months, but it would be hard work.
The next page was the Atka charter. O'Connor read the preface to himself:
"On this day, 789 AS, the Sovereign Democratic republic of Liberty and its citizens hereby charter Planetform Inc. to make the solar body known as "Atka" in the Hudson system into a viable and fertile planet capable of supporting no less than 3 billion inhabitants. Being the rightful and deserved stewards of the Hudson system by virtue of Liberty's pioneering exploration of said system, this charter hereby nullifies any external or foreign claim to said system. Planetform Inc. and associated 3rd party contracters may use any material in direct orbit of the Bering star for any reason associated with terraforming Atka..."
At the bottom were signatures from the Planetform CEO, Liberty Interior Secretary and 4 witnesses.
Lost in his own thoughts, the captain did not notice his first mate standing in front of him.
"Huey, the yanks are setting us loose, shall we depart?"
O'Connor: "Aye, 'bout bloody time."
Outside, the Avengers reformed 3 clicks ahead of the convoy to offer escort to the Hudson gate. Not a common practice in these parts as the Liberty navy was busy enough in Texas keeping pirates from attacking the prison ship Huntsville. Apparently news of the expedition's mission had spread to the Captain of the Mississippi who didn't want his crew to be left out of the history books on this auspicious day.
O'Connor got on the channel with the rest of the convoy:
"Lads, the yanks are givin us a parade. Sharpen up your ranks and make it look good."
The Hammond and her sister ship Carina Star closed into formal rank, followed by their Starblazer escorts. The proud convoy approached the trade lane as one with Defenders in the lead. The lane shimmered with a power build-up as multiple auto-navigation systems shook hands with the lane access software. Logs were made of ship class, registries and cargo and sent along the lanes back to Ageira HQ. There the information was logged with the Liberty department of commerce. After that a barely noticeable script copied the information and dumped it into a cashe access drive to await upload to Mactan in 90 seconds The information was already payed for, and as soon as it arrived in the Hacker mainframe it was transmitted to Ouray,
another happy customer while sticking it to the man...
As the convoy passed through the opening lane the contacts disappeared and were replaced by bright white light, and then pure acceleration pulled the convoy as one into a power trajectory for the Hudson gate. Another minute of lane-assisted propulsion and then on to the gate. As the trade lane powered down there was more shimmering around the convoy as energy waves diminished.
"Planetform white 42, this is reaper flight 27, we've been recalled to Houston, good luck and god speed."
"Copy Reaper 27, thank you for the send off."
The two Defenders pealed out of formation and returned to the trade lane.
Access codes were sent to the Gate master and qued for passage behind a Universal Convoy.
Hudson system
James "Lonestar" Bannan and William "Paddy" Patrick had received the signal from Barrow 10 minutes ago. The target had left Houston barely 45 minutes before that. How they had managed that information was not explained to the two pilots and they didn't care. They were ready. Paddy gave the 'spin up' signal and the two pilots began powering their systems. As their sensors came online the nav map slowly populated with known markers, including the nearby Houston gate/Atka tradelane.
"Comms check"
"You're 5 by 5."
"Move out."
The two Hawk class heavy fighters cruised through the asteroid field towards trade collar 14. At a range of 2 thousand meters the access control program queried the two approaching fighters with a pass code challenge. After 5 seconds of silence the collar powered its point defence turrets and began tracking Paddy and Lonestar. An additional 5 seconds passed before the turrets opened fire. Paddy and Lonestar knew the defense system was merely a token system and no threat. They evaded the shots casually until they were in range of one of the transformer blisters on the on-coming collar. Lonestar fired 3 shots into it and the lane
shimmered with overloads on this and the following collar. Knowing that automated repair systems were sending nanobots to the damage transformer, Lonestar remained near the collar to keep it disabled while Paddy moved his fighter further up the lane to the intercept zone to await their prey.
60 kilometers away from the waiting Hawks, Planetform white 42 completed its jump into the Hudson system. Pilots sounded off as their systems came back to life.
"All personnel accounted for, no issue reports."
"All ships execute lane jump."
Acknowledgments sounded over the comms and the convoy entered the trade lane.
"Lane jump initiated. Atka in 3 minutes."
The bridge was silent as everyone watched the small white body grow larger.
As the convoy approached collar 14 the bridge navigator on the Hammond noted a small flash of white coming from outside the lane. He was about to say something when the general alarm sounded indicating a power fluctuation in one of the collars.
"Report!"
"we're losing velocity, the lane is damaged."
"very well, contact the conv.."
"Huey, we have 2 contacts at 3 thousand meters, closing."
"Markers?"
"None, they are unregistered."
"Hail them."
"No response."
"Get the weapons online, now."
It was too late. Both fighters fired their ordinance at the shield generator of the Hammond. The missiles impacted with a bluish flare which immediately fried the guidance system and shield coils of the transport. Less than a second after the impact the two fighters lined up with the stationary transport and released charges. The mines approached with slow deliberation, but still quick enough to impact on the slowly turning Hammond. As the spine of the Hammond broke the two fighters turned on the Karina Star, which was powering it's cruise engines. A cruise disruptor from Lonestar put an end to is flight. Two minutes later it was all over. The late arriving Planetform escorts fled the carnage and the two former DSE machinists let them go, someone had to spread the word...
Paddy and Lonestar left the wreckage and turned for the Bering jump hole.
2 hours later a transmission was sent from Barrow base to the Colony News Service desk in Manhattan:
Earlier today a Planetform convoy was destroyed in the name of Liberty citizens everywhere. The era of corporate corruptin in Liberty will soon come to an end. The Sons of Liberty Claim Hudson as the new Liberty Free Republic, foreign interests and powers will be destroyed.
The mission was a success. 24 hours after the attack, the Atka development commission received a statement from Planetform inc. stipulating that terraforming operations would not continue until security
was restored in Hudson. Within 72 hours every pamphlet that had ever been published by a group of layed-off Libertians associated with the Sons of Liberty was getting prime screen time. Thomas Bannon
and William Patrick were heros of the Xenos.
Ordinary people across Liberty watched their video screens and were frightened. People thought that terrorism was a problem for other houses, not Liberty. Liberty was supposed to encompass the planets of
freedom and opportunity. People who before were secure knowing they lived in a just society that rewarded ard work and ingenuity while punishing evil were suddenly unsure of everything they had come to believe. Liberty values so commonly quoted: government of the people, justice through democracy, capitalism, all
of these were layered now with insidious connotation. Cynical jokes circulated in corporate offices and factory floors. Workers looked with new suspicion upon their bosses. Union memberships rose.
Public fear translated to government policies. Elected representatives demanded heavier security and prosecution for terrorists in order to protect their 'constituents.' As a result, the Liberty Freedom Act was passed. Sweeping measures allowing the President of Liberty to use its military and intelligence forces to combat terrorism. Piece by piece, the freedoms of Liberty were whittled away by a fearful government. Liberal political elements decried the impact on civil liberties and privacies. Actors and entertainers protested publicly.
Songs were written:
"You and me will all go down in history
with a sad statue of Liberty
and a generation that didn't agree."
(System of a Down)
Being simple people, the residents of Barrow base as well as their cousins at Ouray and Nome were inexperienced in the finer points of terrorist rhetoric. They knew little and planned even less on the effects their radical actions against Planetform would have. But that didn't matter. Each and every one of them was at the end of their string. Desperation drove them to their cause. There was no other way.
And so it was for Thomas Bannon. The man his friends called "Lonestar" never expected to change the face of Liberty along with his new friend Paddy. All his thoughts dwelled back home to Houston where his wife and newborn son hid under false identities. "Lonestar" had left his Houston home after being layed off from his shipyard job with Deep Space Engineering. A job he had held for 12 years was now being performed by a Kusari worker earning half of Thomas's former wage. Tom's wife, Teresa had tried getting a job while he searched for another one. Waitressing payed the bills for a while until Teresa's new boss found a discrepancy in the restaurant books and blamed his new waitress for skimming her tabs. Mortified, Teresa Bannon payed the crooked restaurant manager and quit. Having sworn off the food service industry, Teresa plied the want adds in most of Houston's major cities. Most jobs either required higher education than Teresa had achieved or payed so little that she would barely break even against travel expenses. Eventually the Bannons found themselves with nothing but an eviction notice.
Sammy Hamish had a deadline. Most other times he could squeeze by on his quick tongue and slippery travel habits, but this time the Ringos were specific. Why? Who knows, when you deal with Outcasts you don't ask questions. That is what everyone at Beaumont said at least. Sammy had seen enough of bad Outcast deals to know he didn't want that kind of trouble. So Sammy was uncharacterisicly worried. He didn't like being rushed. He needed a mark. He knew just where to find one too.
Teresa Bannon was in line at the Houston office of employment rehabilitation. This was her 3rd day in line. The government office workers had recently invented a slightly more humane way to service it's customers. Rather than subject them to camping in line at the office for days, you could now take a number home with you that represented your place in line. This allowed you to go home to sleep. Having a number did not keep you from waiting in line though. Every morning you had to come out to the office for fear of being skipped over and sent back to the end of the line because you weren't there at the precise time
your number was called. Teresa's number was 2492.
Sammy had frequented the local unemployment offices before. He always made sure to go to a different one each time so he wasn't recognized by any of the security. This time he went to downtown Austin. There he scanned the behemoth line. In the background he could hear a number called out over the P.A.:
"26.., would customer number 26 please step to booth number 2." The speakers voice was tired, sarcastic and imminently patronizing in its false politeness.
It didn't take Sammy long to find what he was looking for. Perfect really, kids always distracted cops, this would be easy.
"Hello Teresa? Hi, Thomas Sinclair, Temporal Employment Services. I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of looking at your resume that the H.E.R had on file and I'm pleased to say we have an offer for you? May I buy a cup of coffee?"
Teresa looked at her number card, then at the que display above the miasmal waiting line. She had been waiting only 3 hours.
"Oh don't worry, your slot has another 48 hours at lease before it comes up."
"Well alright, is it ok if my son comes along?"
"Absolutely, this is for him as well!"
"Really? But Jimmie is only 7."
"What I mean is, every young boy deserves parents that can provide."
In other times Teresa might have thought twice about trusting someone as slick sounding as this man, but she felt she had no choice. Teresa Bannon followed Sammy Hamish out of the employment office with little Jimmy in tow.
The following 18 months for Jimmy and his mother were among the best in the little boy's memory. He of course missed the company of his father, whom he hadn't seen at all during that time. Still the occasional message would come through telling Jimmie of far off systems that his father was traveling through. Teresa's new 'job' was giving the Bannons a life again. She never asked what it was she was carrying in her suitcase as she traveled from Manhattan to Houston as Sammy forbade it. No questions asked, a steady paycheck that was more than she or even Jed had ever made before.
Time, and the law, eventually caught up with Sammy's new mark. A shame too, she was more reliable than any other carrier he had worked with. Teresa Bannon was arrested by Liberty Police Incorporated just before Jimmie's 9th birthday. Fate struck in a peculiar manner as Jimmy was not with her when the Police let loose the sting operatives that had been monitoring her for 3 weeks.
As Teresa was processed and shipped out to LPI Huntsville, Sammy took the child Jimmy to Beumont. He had to cover all association between his carrier and his operation. There would be other marks to get the job done. The Carlos would keep their customers. All that needed to be done is figure out what to do with the kid...
The pale yellow glow of the Texas sun played odd shadows on the hull of Tex's CSV through the vast tangle of steal and super alloy that was the Dallas Debris field. The ugly vessel looked at home and quite camoflaged in the bone yards, an attribute that had saved Tex many times. Using junk as a hiding place came naturally to any Junker, however Tex was unusually adept at it. Since his aquisition of a used CSV from a hobbling blind old junker barely 40 but dying of radiation exposure, Tex had made a number of modifications. His proudest accomplishment was his reactor shroud. Typically, when a Junker hides in the debris, he shuts down all of his systems, sometimes even life support, to make as small an electronic signature as possible. This combined with the CSVs fortuitous ugliness usually made for a pretty sneaky setup. However even the cleverest disguise was no match for a sensitive radiological detector, nasty devices that could sniff out a slumbering reactor at ever greater ranges. Some of Tex's friends had to botch deals when the LSF pounced early on a drop off. They seemed to be equipping their ships specifically to ferret out sleeping ships in the trash. But now Tex had a way to make his ship no different than any other floating piece of flotsam. He enjoyed watching people come and go, and could choose when to be seen.
Life as a Junker promised to be unstable and short. If a Junker doesn't get caught in Outcast/LPI/Rogue crossfire he'll eventually die from radiation exposure, much like this ship's previous owner. But none of that mattered now. James was his own man. He had scraped the credits together to buy his own ship and for his first week of ship ownership he had plied the Dallas debris field for enough scrap to fill his fuel tanks for the next trip out. It was after one of these trips that he realized he had no brain for business at all. James could fix any machine under the sun and sniff out spare parts and valuable equipment parsecs away but ask him how much any of it was worth and he was hopeless.
So luck was with him when he met a young Junker named Billy Tranton. James had noticed the young man in the Beaumont bar a few times. He always seemed to be jawing the out of towners, nursing a flat bear and make believing he was drunk. He had noticed how even though the kid was..well a kid, he seemed to leave an impression on his conversees. Billy was waiting for James when he docked his CSV in one of Sammy Hamish's bays, sans drink but with a large grin on his face:
"Hoooeeee, thats quite a hall you got there! You have a buyer yet?"
"Buyer? Heck, I was just gonna set up shop with Sammy."
"Pardon me for sayin, but Sammy skims profit off his friends like cheese offa cream. You need a fence my friend, and for a modest cut I can do
it for ya."
"You? How old are you?"
"No youngr'n you by the looks of it. Hey you can take your chances with Sammy if you like, meanwhile I'll be boozin' up some Rogues in the
bar."
"Hold up, tell you what:"
Tex hands a data card to Billy.
"You sell all of this before tomorrow and we can talk about a partnership."
"You wont regret it. Say, what's your name anyways?"
"You can call me Tex."
.....
Having seen all he needed to of James and his new friend Billy, a man who had been idly tinkering under his vessel pretending to change out
coolant pumps got up and left for his motel room. 5 minutes after transmitting his message to Barrow Base he was back at his ship and un-docking...
.....
Barrow Base, Hudson system
"We have word from Texas. Your boy starting to make some scrap out there."
"Is he still with that weasel Sammy Hamish?"
"Yes, but now that he has a ship hes not so much under Sammy's thumb."
"If you don't get him outta' there soon he'll be too far a Junker to save."
"I'm not so worried about that, Teresa will turn him straight again."
"If she's still...well if she's there when we need her."
"Its ok Paddy, I know she may die in there. But thats not what worries me."
"What are you worried about."
"That James will die a Junker who thinks his Mommy is a cardi whore and his Daddy a dead beat."
"So is it time to get him out of there?"
"Almost time, I just have to do one more thing."
Thomas Bannon erased the encrypted message from his in-box and stood up to look down at the hangar deck. William Patrick noticed his old
friend was wearing his six shooters, the same pair Tex would wear later on in life.
"You look fit to step into the void."
"Somethin' funny is goin' on at Freeport 2 and I need to see what old Jeeter is up to. I never step into that place without packin' iron these
days."
"What is it this time?"
"He doesn't return my hails for a month and all of a sudden he wants to meet."
"Want I should tag along?"
"No, I need you here in case something happens to James."
"Oh, so you want me to watch the kid while you go out drinking with Zoners? Very funny."
"I hope drinking is all that happens tonight."
"Tell Skeeter Hi for me."
Lonestar left Paddy in the comms center for the hangar deck one level down. Paddy watched him through the observation window that over looked the main hangar bay of Barrow base. A smattering of small transports and beaten up civilian fighters littered the floor. Lonestar was making his way towards the center where his pride and joy rested. Though colored the same as the rest of the fighters in the hanger, this ship was noticeably larger, with an obviously oversized power plant hidden beneath its skin. Added control surfaces for atmospheric flight gave the ship a decidedly more predatory look than the ships Paddy and Lonestar had used 20 years ago. It seamed as though every available surface was somehow designed around the weapons systems. Paddy had never seen such a beast until Lonestar had towed it in from Reinland. He clamed to have 'borrowed' it from a group of Unioners in Hamburg only the blast marks looked very much like those produced from Tarantula-based weapons...
Wherever he had gotten the ship, it was now the envy of every pilot in Barrow and the council were talking about upgrading the entire squadron. Lonestar lifted from the hangar floor and made for bay door number 2 on the dark side of the asteroid. The old Xeno and his bird of prey slipped into the void and were gone.
"See you soon old friend,"
Paddy spoke into the silence. It was the last time he'd ever see his friend alive.
Arranged meetings such as these always put Clive Porter on edge. As a public servant to the people of Liberty, it wasn't exactly easy to keep unnoticed. But he had to be discrete in dealing with a contact as potentially contraversial as this one. So back at the Attorney General's office he had set up false travel plans to Colorado presumably to meet with local circuit judges on recent environmental rulings. All of that
false paper work just to have a 15 minute conversation at a dirty bar on Pittsburg with this unpleasantly friendly gentleman sitting opposite him.
"Good evening Mr. Porter."
"Evening, Mr...?"
"My name is of no importance, here is the code recognition you need to know I am sincere."
The friendly gentlemen handed Porter a thumbnail storage device which Clive inserted into his personal system. The codes matched.
"Something to drink?"
"No, thank you. Look I'll make this quick. Your employer has an interest in seeing Atka Terraformed. What it is I don't care, but for the moment our interests are aligned. We've had 20 years to clear the Xenos out of Hudson and every year we fail gives them greater popularity with the lower classes. We now hear rumors that some terrorist in Colorado called "Prospector" is trying to unite both Xeno factions. There are two men that hold much of the Xeno ideological support in Hudson, and are the likely parties this Prospector will try to contact. We need these two men in Hudson eliminated. We don't care how. There can be no implication of this administration having anything to do with the deaths of a couple of folk heroes. Help us break the will of the Hudson Xenos so we can clean that system up and get Planetform back in there. Here are the files on your targets."
"oh dear, such barbarism from the enlightened democracy of Sirius...you want the wife and child removed as well?Really Mr. Porter. We are a scientific firm, not an agency for assassins. "
"Oh? That's not what I've heard. Well no matter, hire someone else to do it. Bunch of scientists that you are, I'm sure you can come up with an effective plan."
"You flatter us. And we are to do this because?...ahh yes, our supposed interest in Atka. My dear friend however misguided your impression may be, we are more interested in what you could do for us."
"What are you talking about?"
"Relax, we do not wish any political favors...just a few odds and ends..."
And the strangely unpleasant but polite man went through his companies fee for doing the Liberty government's dirty work. Clive Porter thought some of the requests odd, others somewhat disturbing, but on the whole doable. It was worth it to ensure reelection for his President and a continued lifestyle that he had come to enjoy as a high level public servant. Accomplishing what the previous 3 Presidents could not in
Hudson would do just that.
When the deal was struck the two men departed. Porter went back to his transport to continue on to Colorado to maintain appearances. The other man boarded an Armored Transport with a strange red emblem on it. He spoke to his secretary as he settled in for the long trip back to Honshu.
"My dear, please send this to Unrelenting...and then this to Jan in Hamburg. Oh and fix me a martini too?"
.......
Not long after that martini was finished a message was received at Alster shipyard addressed to Jan Dusselhoffer, a crew forman for Republican. Jan downloaded the encryped file into a receiver planted on the underside of his clip board and erased the message. When his shift was over he made a few calls and waited for his mates to pick him up. After that it was a 12 hour trip to Freeport 2, he would brief his 'co-workers' on the way.
.......
Lonestar was a regular at Freeport 2 and so when his fighter was detected emerging from the Atka field the comms booth operator sent a call down to Skeeter. Skeeter was the Xenos grocier for hire. Barrow got almost all of its perisheable foods from Freeport 2 and Skeeter was the only Zoner brave enough to sell to the Xenos. This wasn't because the Xenos caused any trouble for the Zoners, far from it. Xenos appreciated the average Zoner's desire to 'just be left alone.' No, Skeeter was the only Zoner who would deal with the Xenos because of all the attention they got from Texas based LPI and LSF, who suspected Freeport 2 as being a food supplier to the rebels out in the rocks but could not confirm it. Though Zoners didn't mind what the Texas lawmen stood for, many of the denizens of Freeport 2 did. And the Zoners did not want to disturb the various passers through with nosey marshals. It was a delicate balance but it seemed to work out, mostly due to the occasional risk taker like Skeeter.
"Freeport 2, what's the hold up?"
"Stand by Eagle 003."
More delays. Lonestar checked his scanner for activity around the base. Nothing. Why would they make him wait when there were no other ships out there?
"Eagle 003, standby for a message from a friend."
"I'm not goin' anywhere Freeport 2."
Rather than a voice comm as he was expecting, a tight band text only transmission came into Lonestars on board communications console. It read:
"Your tomatoes are over-ripe, try some carrots instead?"
Lonestar stared at the message for a moment longer, said a short prayer for Skeeter, lit his cruise engines and headed for the sun. Whatever had been keeping Skeeter from contacting him apparently had caught up with him. A trap?
"Better shut these down..."
Lonestar reached up to turn off his transponder, a modification made to all Xeno ships who's civilian avionics were hard wired to squawk an imbedded ID signal. A simple switch isolated and bypassed the script and made Lonestars ship just another random fighter in the void with no identifiers. As he leaned back into his seat he noticed a similarly non-descript craft moving on an intercept course from above. Not wanting
to meet this newcomer if he didn't have to Lonestar altered course down and to port. Once satisfied the other ship was receding he consulted navigational computer for a good route back to Barrow.
It was while he considered confusing and untraceable routes with his attention away from his scanners that Jan Dusselhoffer pounced. His 'co-workers' had successfully flushed his quarry to him. By scaring the Texan's Zoner contact and then feinting an intercept in his flight to the sun they had effectively brought their quarry to Jan, who lit off 4 cruise disrupting missiles, just for good measure.
Lonestar had less than a second to react to the speeding projectiles, and it proved too little time to thwart them. After the first two hit he could here the ominous crackle of his injectors overloading behind him. The second two finished the job and created a back flow of fuel into his maneuvering manifold. All propulsion systems stalled and Lonestar began drifting through the rocks.
"Gutentag mein Xeno. It looks like you have experienced a dreadful accident. We would be happy to tow you to a nearby repair facility."
"Mmmh, civilized pirates then? No thanks I think I'll just put a call into a buddy of mine."
"Ahh yes, I believe your friend Mr. Patrick will be having a similar accident today. You needn't bother, you'll notice your transmissions are being jammed at the moment."
Lonestar noticed the modified freighter from which the transmissions were emanating. 1000 clicks out he could just make out the fighter he had encountered, obviously to turn him towards this freighter that was performing some sort of docking manuever. He check his systems, Comms (jammed,) were online, navigation, even weapons and targeting, just no propulsion.
"Don't try anything unwise my friend, you are a sitting duck. And be happy, you are about to assist the proud working classes of Reinland by paying for their revolution."
To himself:
"Yea we'll see about that, buddy."
The Unioner's freighter was now directly above Lonestar's ship. Something resembling a Junker grappling arm was emerging from the lower cargo lock. Lonestar monitored his propulsion displays. The injectors that had earlier flooded with fuel from his cruise engines had cleared, all he needed to do was reinitiate them.
"They should have killed me while they had the chance."
As the grappler descended from the vulnerable underside of the freighter, Lonestar activated his rear turret. Though he had never used it in the past ("a real Xeno never runs from a fight...") he thanked a few choice deities that he had never gotten around to removing his. He powered up the turret, swung it to its highest arc and opened fire on the grappler. Fortunately for Lonestar, the freightor's sheilds had to be lowered while operating the arm. The particle beams from his turret liquified the alloys and hydrolics of the arm. Continuing motion from its previous maneuvering began wrenching at the connection inside the freighter's hold.
Using his newly reactivated thrusters, Lonestar manuevered himself between the Freighter and its fighter escort, now screaming in from the perimeter. Lonestar brought the rest of his weapons online and hurled a series of particle beams straight into the cargo hold of the freighter. Explosive decompressions showed as little puffs of milky crystals flowing from the gaping wound and the ship began listing out of control towards the asteroids. Some of the shrapnel hit Lonestar's fighter before he was able to raise his shields, alarms sounded within the cockpit, but he tuned them out, there was still one more to kill.
Lonestar watched and waited for the remaining Unioner to emerge from the other side of the massively rolling freighter. He heard the Reinlander's enraged voice over open comms speaking in his native tongue. Though he had never learned the Rein language, Lonestar understood what was being conveyed all the same.
"Yea, right back at ya buddy, come to papa."
More warning lights were flashing in Lonestar's cockpit, he stole a moment to look at the displays...his life support was failing. At most he had about 5 minutes of oxygen left.
"Today might be the day..."
The Unioner fighter finally showed itself, strafing around the bow of the freighter trying to 'slice the pie' as some pilots call it when unmasking an attack. Not showing where he had hoped to see the Unioner, Lonestar thrusted up and away from the Unioner's firing arc. Nuetron blasts from the Unioner traced through open space, following Lonestar's maneuver but too slow to connect. Still wheeling around the tumbling freighter, Lonestar reversed his course and closed on the Unioner, who was still tracing his fire to the Xeno. Having lured the Unioner into tracking in one direction, the reverse move put the Unioner in firing range while still turning the wrong way to pose any danger to Lonestar. More particle beams sliced through the thin hull of the Unioner ship and another puff of ice crystals spelled the Unioner's doom as the starboard wing separated from the fuselage.
Lonestar's victory over the Unioners was short lived. Seeing the teetering state of his life support system, he quickly composed a short message to beam to Barrow base, maybe Paddy would get it in time to save James...
"We have a distress call from Lonestar in Bering, text only."
"Let me see." Patrick read to himself:
"Paddy, I've been ambushed near Freeport 2 by Unioners. It lookes like a contract hit. I only have a few minutes of air left here. Bring James in now before they get to him too, and tell Teresa I love her.."
"How old is this?"
"Time stamp is 32 minutes ago."
Patrick bit back the bile rising from his stomach. Desperate and hopeful scenarios played through his mind, somehow willing the laws of nature to bend just this once for his old friend. But those hopes he bit back as well. Neither of them had expected to live so long when they first moved out to the sticks to plot their rebellion. But the 20 years together had left its mark on William Patrick. Deep in his soul he could feel the truth creaping out from his gut. The gig was up. The Xenos had finally gotten the attention they needed. And someone very powerful was trying to snuff this little operation out. They had succeeded with Lonestar, Paddy was probably next, and of course there was the ignorant Junker son... Paddy thought of his friends final requests and put his own rage behind him...for now.
"Tell Mark to pick up the kid immediately, tell him to use force if necessary. Tell him to bring the kid to Freeport 2 and I'll meet him there."
"Wait, you want to bring him out there? Where Lonestar just got murdered? I thought you were supposed to protect the kid!"
"That kid is no good to us if he doesn't know who his father was. So I'm going to show him."
-Beaumont Base, Texas system-
Mark Lawrence was into his second week of baby sitting. Thats what all the boys at Barrow called the constant stakeout that the Xenos had performed at Beaumont for the past 5 years. In order to maintain anonymity the baby sitter was rotated at random intervals, never leaving an operative on the base for more than 2 weeks for fear of becoming too familiar to the denizens of the Junker base. It was boring duty that
many Xenos complained about over drinks and cards, but never out loud. Everyone knew the story of Lonestar's only son James, born into Junker-dom by slimy Outcasts and crooked cops. The Xenos realised early on that the boys circumstances, though unsavory, provided the perfect cover and throw off any suspicions of his family ties. Who would suspect a greasy junker would be the son of the most wanted man in Liberty? But since Thomas Bannon was not the insane murderer the Liberty media made him out to be, the boy was looked after. 'Boy'...heck, he wasn't a kid anymore. Since most of the babysitting crew watched little James grow up amongst the seedy Junkers they all had a hard time calling the 22 year-old a man.
Today it seemed Mark would help James complete his childhood. Word had come from Barrow, Paddy wanted the kid pulled out of Texas. Mark was to bring James to Freeport 2 using any means necessary...today.
"I guess the time for polite introductions has past Tex," he said to himself.
His bags were packed and on board already, all that remained was to collect the kid. Lawrence began making his way to the north side of the station, also known as Junker alley. He was traveling down the lift when the lights went out. A few seconds later the lift stopped running as well. Though power outages occured regularly on Beaumont, this one struck Lawrence as oddly inconvenient. Rather than wait for some Junker mechanic to get off his drunk ass to fix the power grid, he popped the access port off the lift and climed up to the nearest level to find the stairs. A couple of minutes later Mark was on the correct level, the sense of urgency increasing with every step he took. Something wasn't right here. He noticed a hatch leading into the wing with James's bunk was forced open. Lawrence drew his weapon and proceeded down the corridor. Around the first bend, his suspicions were confirmed. There, not 15 meters from Tex's door
were 4 figures, crouched over their rifles. Some sort of night vision device covered their faces and gave their eyes an eerie green glow. Some hand signals were exchanged, the best moment for Lawrence to make his move was right now. From one of his pockets he produced a magnesium grenade. Lawrence lobbed the grenade just over the left shoulder of the lead trooper. Contact with the floor plates ignited the magnesium core. While Lawrence averted his eyes, the unsuspecting troops took the full flare right in the corneas, magnified 20 times by their equipment. The overload was enough to render the troops unconscious from shock.
As Lawrence made his way forward, Tex emerged from his bunk.
"...Pico, if you been blowin stank bombs out here agin ah swear I'll take alla yo weed 'n flush it down...hey, who the hell are you? And who the hell are they?"
"My name is Mark Lawrence, James. These men here have come to kill you."
"Yea? 'An what about you?"
Tex took a look at the weapon in Mark's hand. He took a step back.
"James, there's more at work here than you realise but I don't have time to sit here and convince you. Whoever these men are, they have friends somewhere else on this station who by now have realised one of their teams is off the air."
"And what are you going to do about it?"
"I can get you out of here."
"Yar, then where? Sugarland? Sorry dude, I've seen the action those poor bastards get. And I'd rather take a bullet from that gun of yours than be some poor hombre's housewife."
Tex was inching back into his bunk towards a spreader guage he kept hidden on the inside of his closet door. He was just reaching back as though to scratch the back of his head when Lawrence released his second mag-nade into Tex's bunk. Though not as effective as it was against the bespectacled special ops troops, it was enough to daze Tex. Lawrence closed the distance between them and pistol whipped Tex behind the head.
"C'mon kid. Paddy is waiting."
As Mark Lawrence took the unconscious Tex onboard his freighter, another ship began preparing for its own trip.
"Status team 4?"
"Recovered."
"Signal strength on the cowboy?"
"Five by five."
"Good, make your course for Shikoku."
----------------------------------------
-Freeport 2, Bering-
Mark Lawrence's Rhino freighter Settled down in the Freeport 2 general hangar bay where William Patrick was waiting. The loading ramp descended and Patrick boarded the ship, closing the door behind him. Patrick made his way to the crew compartment, nodded at Lawrence and followed him
to the locked compartment that James had spent the trip in.
"Is he hurt?"
"He'll have a lump on his head, but nothing else."
"Open this up."
Through the open hatch William Patrick looked upon a man sitting on the side of a bunk, slumped over while rubbing the back of his head. James looked up and Patrick saw a hauntingly familiar face regard him.
"Sorry about the head James, we didn't have a lot of time back there. Take these, it should help."
Mark tossed a pack of pain killers to Tex who caught it one-handed and slowly regarded it's contents.
"Your father wasn't much for pills either," said Patrick.
Tex looked up at Patrick.
"When did you know him?"
"I've known him for 22 years. Ever since losing his job with DSE in fact. And he didn't trust pills because most of them were made by Cryer."
"You talk about him as if he were dead."
"He died yesterday, killed by the same people who tried to kill you today no doubt."
Tex was surprised at how the news affected him. For twenty years he had known his father had left he and his mother for the borderworlds. His mother had made various excuses for him that only made him look like a deadbeat.
William Patrick sat down on a chair opposite Tex.
"Your father was a Son of Liberty."
"You mean a Xeno?"
"That's what the government calls us. To make us look like insane murderers and racists they lable us Xenos in the media. But we don't kill people because of where they come from, only because of what they are doing to Liberty. Look, I don't expect you to understand everything at first. You are a Junker, part of the sickness that festers in Liberty that your father spent 22 years fighting. The only difference between you and the rest of them is that you didn't choose to be one."
"Sammy Hamish."
"Exactly, I hope you now realise how much of an insidious worm that little man is."
"Why didn't my father come for me?"
"Do you have any idea who he was? Your father has been on the LSF's most wanted list for 10 years now. Bringing you into the lion's den at your age was too risky. He did it to save your life."
The skin on Tex's face was reddening. He had never thought of his father as a hero before. In fact, Tex had grown up devoid of heros. A different world was beginning to show in his mind. Where once there we're grey outlines for everything except his immediate concerns new sharper images were coalescing. Not grey, but black and white...right and wrong. Further out into his consciousness he looked at the larger universe he lived in and began to see it in a different manner.
"I want to see him."
"I thought you would, Mark should be plotting the course as we speak."
Sure enough the two of them felt the throb of the old Rhino's engines picking up and the odd sense of vertigo as the ship's on board gravity generators kicked in.
"Care to join us in the cockpit?"
The three men traveled sat in silence as the Rhino traced a solar ellipse away from Freeport 2 to the other side of the system. The cruise engines continuously accelerated the ship until it reached a velocity it could safely decelerate from based on the inputted coordinates.
Tex finally spoke up, "how did he die?"
"As near as I can tell he was ambushed while trying to dock at Freeport 2."
"Bounty Hunters?"
"No, we can't tell for sure who did it, but there are many Unioners in this part of space and we've suspected them of doing hit jobs for the government for some time."
"We're coming up on it," said Lawrence."
The men could feel the Rhino automatically decelerating as they neared their rendesvoux with Lonestar's fighter. There tumbling with the rocks was Thomas Bannon's falcon. Red and black lines traced the outer hull. In the back Tex could see a mangled impact right where main reactor sat.
"Zero radiation, zero atmo. Look, 4 clicks out port side."
Breaching a large asteroid and blotting out the sun was the remains of a modified Reinland freighter. Debris was floating from a gaping hole where the cargo bay doors used to be.
"Looks like they tried to capture him," said Lawrence.
"or take his ship. It's no coincidence he and James were targeted at the same time," said Patrick.
"What do you mean?"
"Someone wants Thomas's whole family, and I wouldn't be surprised if they try for me next."
"Whole family?" Tex had found his voice finally.
"What about Momma?"
"Teresa? We're working on that."
"What do you mean? She's in prison."
"Yes, and we have friends on the inside, as usual. But we have more pressing matters, look at the scanners."
They all noticed 3 contacts at long range closing.
"We have to get out of here," said Lawrence.
"Not without Tom's body."
"There's no time, they'll be here in less than five minutes."
"Shut up and monitor them, James come help me into a suit."
The two of them ran into the forward airlock while Lawrence powered up his defenses. There was no time to run through the typical number of tests one usually performs before an E.V.A. Patrick donned his suit and exited the freighter with no hesitation with a risky leap from the open bay towards Lonestar's battered fighter. As he neared the end of his tether, Patrick reached for the scored rudder fin aft of the cockpit and crawled hand over hand the rest of the way.
"Paddy, 30 seconds to weapons range."
Ignoring Mark's worried voice, William Patrick worked open the canopy and began unstrapping the suited lifeless form. Once free of the harness, Patrick launched himself again towards the open freighter bay with his friends dead body in his arms. The fighter continued its tumble through the rocks behind them. No sooner was Patrick safely in the cargo bay once more when a concussion rocked the ship. Their time was up.
"Better hold on to something," Came the call over the intercom. A few gut wrenching turns followed by the unmistakable sound of the cruise engines charging. Paddy and Tex both counted the sends by and when the engines finally ignited they both relaxed.
"Now then James, time to meet the father you never knew..."
-Office of the Attorney General, Planet Manhattan-
The New York sun fell through vaulted windows onto Clive Porter's desk. The desk was clean except for a work terminal that Mr. Porter was reading from. As the cheif law enforcement officer for all of Liberty space all manner of intelligence and legal discourse flowed through this office but for now Mr. Porter was concentrating his mind on this one message from a singularly influential and wealthy woman. Favors had
been exchanged already between the two of them, which made them somewhat intimate. Uncomfortably so. For instance the sender of this message had used the A.G's classified government message address. The fact such a thing were possible by a civilian disturbed Porter.
He looked away from the message a moment and consulted a file he had pulled on his new aquaintance. Former CEO of Aegira Technologies... retired but still on the board of directors and apparently controlling a large sum of the stock. The dividends from these stocks she funded a gargantuan project called 'SinTech.' It had taken serious negotiations with the office of the President to aquire this information, which was
limited and vague all the same.
2 weeks ago Clive Porter had enlisted this woman's help to eliminate the leaders of a Terrorist organization based in the Bering system. Though Porter had recieved his own reports from military units in Texas Porter payed particular to this message's account of the operation. According to this, only one of the terrorists had been eliminated. Far more than the Entire Liberty government had been able to accomplish in 20 years but far less than Clive Porter had bargained for back on Pittsburg. The Junker had apparently evaded his attackers in Texas and William Patrick was still at large. Now there was no telling where the two had gone. Element of surprise was lost, the terrorists knew they were marked by a powerful foe.
The message requested a prisoner release from LPI Huntsville. Teresa Bannon, wife of Tom, mother of James...they wished to use her as bait to draw their targets into the open. Fine enough, the original arrangement required the whole Bannon family eliminated. Releasing Teresa from Huntsville solved two problems, while flushing out the young Junker it also removed Teresa from the protection of the Xenos in the Prison. Still it was strange for a woman to be held so long in prison for nothing but a possesion charge. 15 years now, he recalled the Texas Rangers dealing out heavy sentences like that...pity. Another request followed as well, this one gave Porter a prickling chill up his spine. She wanted one of the Terrorists to be taken alive and handed over to her custody...for...human testing.
"Now we come to it. They DID have something else in mind for compensation. They want a guinea pig who won't be missed to do experiments on..."
It was practicality that led Porter to agree with these terms. He and his 'partner' were too deep in bed with each other to start saying 'no' now. He was in for it all.
As Porter began typing out his reply he pressed his intercom switch,
"Erik, get me the corrections office at Fort Bush."
His call was made. The corrections office drew up the necessary forms and scheduled the abrieviated hearing that would be summarily overridden and ram-rodded through the beuracracy. The parole board was ordered to assemble the next day.
Atka research station, Sigma 17
Alexis Sinclare walked along the observation portals to labs 2 and 3 where final testing was being completed. Young scientists in lab coats took on their most professional dimeanors as she approached. They had worked hard for this moment. Finally a Manhattan VIP would acknowledge the work being done out here, and no less than the CEO herself... She said nothing as she observed the researchers behind the safety glass work, making her host escorts somewhat nervous,
"You'll find our safety precautions quite thorough, Maam," said the chief Scientist.
"Will I?"
The severe woman regarded him for the first time. Her tone of voice surprised the scientist.
"yes maam, our last 3 safety reviews were well over 95% nominal."
"Then you should fire your auditor. I see no fewer than 5 class 'A' safety violations even now as I look on. You have one hour to find all five or we'll be posting both the auditor's and your own positions up for internal hiring."
Without waiting for a response Ms. Sinclare turned on her heal and left the observation deck. The Chief research associate was now regretting ever wishing for any more attention from Manhattan corporate. With his livelihood on his mind he trotted to the decon chamber to prep himself to enter the main testing area. Halfway through the decon cycle he found his first violation. He activated the chamber intercom.
"Damnit people, who left the inner door unlocked!"
With his clean suit on the chief waited for the decon cycle to complete then stormed into the testing area.
"You all might as well kick me in the balls. We may be clear out in the Sigmas but the stock holders are VERY interested in this project. That means we have to be cleaner, faster and better than the rest of the company. I want everyone to stop what they are doing and go back over their safety protocols. Tell me if you forgot anything."
Slowly over several minutes the scientists chimed in with their results: physiological enhancement, exo-anthropomorphic integration, neuro-static interfacing and carbon-nano epithelial combustion all noted some safety violations. They even found some the CEO had overlooked apparently. It may have seemed sloppy, but Sintech procedures were exacting.
When the chief later met with Ms. Sinclare again he was noticeably relieved.
"Well now, you get to keep your job it seems."
"Thank you maam."
"Tell me, when will we reach phase 2?"
"We're there now maam. Little else we can do until we get a suitable test subject."
"You will have one soon Doctor. Phase 2 and all its materiel must be ready for transport to Aomori in 12 hours."
That little chore was done. Alexis Sinclare made her way back to the Unrelenting and signaled the Captain to set course for Honshu. She had already recieved her message from Clive Porter. Team 4 were standing by to redeem themselves after failing at Beaumont. There was also the prison Doctor to activate. His job was simple enough. Though it would probably meant the loss of his services, Sinclair thought it
a good investment to keep the Attorney General happy.
-Somewhere in Bering-
For most of the trip back to Barrow Patrick talked to James about Thomas Bannon and his life with the Xenos. He removed a pair of holsters from Lonestar's waste and gave them to James,
"He would have wanted you to have 'em."
The weapons found within those folds of leather were relics. Dry chemical charges propelling heavy metal slugs-no doubt hand made by the weilder. The handles were in-laid wood, so old James couldn't tell what species. He could sense more than anything the dim and bloody history behind the two revolvers. As he drew one out of the holster he was surprised by it's weight.
"Hard iron he used to call it. And if iron it be, then you'll need to keep it oiled if you don't want them to rust."
The guns were machines, and machines Tex knew very well. The first and last gift he would ever own of his father stayed cradled in James' arm for the rest of the trip.
Thomas Bannon's body was ejected into a decaying solar orbit. Though not a godless man, William Patrick only found passing conversation with the dead to mark the end of his friends life:
"Your boy is safe Tom. Manhattan bastards screwed that one up bad. I wish you could see him, those Junkers didn't get to him. He's you all over again. Good bye my friend."
James watched this gruff and short eulogy with no words to offer. The sheer absense of fatherly memories embarrassed and enraged him at the same time. He had a father, but he had never known his father. Realising this brought fresh thoughts of his mother to the fore. A much more concrete set of images flooded him, picnics in the mountains, weekends at the anti-grav tracks... and yet his mother was taken from him nearly 15 years ago.
How had his family been torn asunder so completely?
"You said you had friends at Huntsville watching my mother."
"Yes, she's safer than you are right now."
"I want to get her out of there."
"Out of the question, Huntsville is too heavily guarded."
"Fine, give me the names of your contacts and I'll do it alone."
"It will be a long time yet before I trust you with the names of my men working on the inside."
"I'll do it without your help then. Just drop me off at Freeport 2."
Patrick regarded the young man for a moment.
"You're even dummer'n I thought, boy. I guess all those years with the Junkers weren't kind to your common sense. Look, believe me when I tell you that I know everything that happens within the walls of LPI Huntsville. We practically own the place. But that stops entirely when you step outside the facility, from there on its Manhattan rent-a-cop contract bone heads running the joint. Hell they even appreciate us keeping the population in there quiet so they can go on with their cushy government jobs."
James: "Well least I aint a coward, like you was when you let my father go off on his own out there."
Patrick let loose a blow to James' gut. The young Junker crumpled and fell to the floor.
"Your Daddy 'n I have spilled more blood together then you've ever seen poppin pimples with Sammy Hamish. I owe him my life, which is the only reason you are alive today. If it were up to me I'd have let those slimy bastards gun you down in your sleep back at Beaumont..but no. Why I outta let you go to Hunstville yourself, see where it gets ya. You could even..."
"Both of you be quiet for a moment," Mark Lawrence interjected. "We're getting a message from Skeeter."
"That weasal is still alive? God bless him, what's it say?"
Patrick left James groaning on the metal floor and walked to the message console Mark Lawrence was reading. The two of them exchanged silent looks for a moment then Patrick turned to James Bannon.
"Turns out you don't have to go proving your courage, your mama's made parole."
--------
-LPI Huntsville-
The pale light of fluorescents shined off the duracrete floors of Teresa Bannon's cell. As she sat there she could hear the rodents scurrying along the floor under her bunk, almost as if they were aware the cell would soon be theirs again soon. On the wall opposite her bunk she could still see remnants of the tape she had used to affix photographs of Thomas and James. The wall was lighter in color, showing the distinct shapes of the photos that had stayed up there for 15 years. All of her personal items she had already packed and given to the guards for out processing.
Only 12 hours ago, Teresa had been at the parol board hearing. The same 3 individuals who had denied her paroll citing 'grave misgivings' about her likelihood of continuing as a drug smuggler had unceremoniously granted her freedom without so much as a comment. The same obtuse and irrevicable way the judge had initial sentence her she witnessed with her release, executed as if she were a stone being put away in the shed.
She could hear the clang of the wing security door opening and closing down the hall. Footsteps were approaching her cell...it was the guard.
"Teresa, the Doctor will need to see you before your release."
The guard unlocked her cell and stood aside for her to come out. As Teresa made her way to the security gate she looked into cell 346 were Joseph was. To anyone else in the prison Joseph was known as 'Red,' probably due to his hair. In many ways Red had more power in Huntsville than even the warden. Red commanded the Huntsville Xenos, a large contingent of convicted terrorists the Liberty government were detaining. Early in Teresa's prison sentance, Red had taken her under his wing. Ostensibly he said it was because she was 'a momma' and needed protecting, but Teresa suspected he was a friend of her husband Thomas and this endeared Red to her.
The look on Red's face reminded Teresa of the conversation they had earlier that day. The sudden release worried him. Though Teresa was aware of Red's ideological leanings and thought them ridiculous (why would the government care about little old me?) she couldn't help but feel off balance with the whole situation. But her misgivings gave way to unbelievable excitement. Today she would leave this floating city of death..
tommorow perhaps she would see James...the thought gave her chills and made her giddy. Never in her 15 years at Huntsville had she gotten a visit from her only son. She recieved letters from him almost weekly, but whoever it was he worked for wouldn't let him near the prison. But all of that was behind her so it seemed. She'd already recieved a letter from James saying he would meet her down on Houston tommorow. The letter didn't say much beyond that. Strange that her normally talkative boy was so terse in his note... Yes, it was time Red gave up protecting Mrs. Bannon. She was a free woman now and determined to do right by her son this time no matter what it took.
The guard led her to the infirmary where the Doctor was waiting.
"Hello Teresa, ready for your big day?"
He asked as he walked over to his medicine locker. Instead of the triplicate medical examination forms Teresa expected she saw an empty syringe on a sterilised tray next to the exam bed.
"Yes. Am I not up to date on my shots? I thought I had all of that done last month..."
"Yes indeed, this is merely a booster shot and vaccine. There's a influenza breakout down on Houston now and you haven't been exposed to it yet. The law requires you be perfectly healthy before you pass through that airlock. Now give me your arm please..."
The rest of the examination was the same as all the others Teresa had recieved yearly during her time on the inside. Eventually she was seen to a changing room where she was given street clothes and her personal effects. Shortly thereafter she boarded an LPI Armored transport bound for Houston.
The virus she now carried in her system began its work on a microscopic level, simply duplicating itself until its host cell couldn't support it then moving on to another...each duplication multiplying the rate at which the virus spread. 1 hour later Teresa Bannon was walking on Houston soil again for the first time in 15 years. The planet she had grown up on had changed without her. Places she once knew were replaced or gone completely. Sentimental attachments she never knew she had began to surface as she traveled throught he city carrying her newly reaquired personal clothes. A steady feeling of emptiness creeped over her that couldn't be filled no matter how far she searched. Friends had moved on..and her family...
The thought galvanized a course of action for her. Teresa turned around and headed straight back for the space port. She knew where she had to go. Her only pure hope left was her son, who by sketchy accounts was still alive among the Junkers of Texas. She would take what cash she'd been given by her release counsilor and find her son...somehow.
![[Image: Tex3.jpg]](http://free-sk.t-com.hr/Freelancer/Tex3.jpg)
![[Image: screen47-1.jpg]](http://i181.photobucket.com/albums/x262/Yngen/screen47-1.jpg)