Since the age of 18, Zacarias had been trying to create the perfect AI (Artificial Intelligence). No, perfect isn't the right word. More like... superiour. In every way. He had dreamed of created an AI that could feel, an AI that had emotions, instincts, and a feeling of right and wrong, not unlike humans. No, not unlike, but exactly like. An AI that was, in effect, a human.
Some said that he was playing God. Others said that there would be no way to control it once it was created. Still others called him crazy. But he knew. He wasn't crazy, he would control it, and if creating things is playing God, then perhaps humans are God. Heh, that may sound crazy, but he knew. He was playing God, creating a being in his own likeness. In such arrogance, falls are inevitable.
It was the day. He would start Carina as planned, using the computer in his Falcata-class bomber. He hadn't finished her, but he figured he could just add on to her later. It was simple; he would give sentience to his ship. Bring it to life. He entered the string of commands to begin the start up sequence. This went across his screen:
And the terminal went dark. What?, he thought. After reviewing everything, he realized it would take a large chunk out of the Malta Defense Grid's main computer to run the startup, though afterwards what he had should suffice. However, he would not, could not, endanger his fellow Outcasts, especially civilians. But what else could he use? What?
Inspiration struck. Of course, a battleship! It's main computer should be able to just barely handle it. So he searched the registry of battleships for one in drydock. Still, he did not want to hurt anyone. He couldn't help but chuckle to himself; the Fantasia was currently undergoing refits in drydock, and wasn't scheduled to come out today, at least.
Hacking into the Fantasia's main computer system was tougher than expected. It used a tri-layer improbability firewall, state of the art. It might have been easier to hack into Malta's Defense Grid, but he was up for the challenge. It took about an hour, running numbers and codes, but finally he had broken through all three layers of coding. Now, scrambling where the transmission was coming from and transmitting Carina's startup program would be a piece of cake. He hit "submit" and went to prep his Falcata for her new brain.
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Meanwhile, on the Fantasia....
Willow was furious.
"What do you mean, somebody hacked the Fantasia?! Again?! How is that even possible?!"
"Sir, I..." began the aide, obviously put off by his superior's temper.
"I don't care! Find out who did it, how, and why! I want answers, not 'Sir, I's" Willow finished in a mocking tone.
"Yes, sir," the aide managed, and ran to fix something somewhere.
Willow massaged his brow. Even in drydock, people were attacking the Fantasia. Another man ran up, apparently put off by some bad news.
"What is it now?"
"Sir, whatever is happening, it's huge. The datastream is so big, it's almost blown a few circuits. Also, weird messages are going through all the computer screens. Like this."
He pointed at a nearby wall access panel, and Willow noticed right away what was wrong. This was running across:
Fantasia? Bretonian Battleship, under Outcast command... I like it. I think I'll take it out for a ride
Suddenly, the hull stressed, and the whole ship shuddered.
"What was that!?"
"I don't know sir, we're not supposed to move in drydock. It would take them releasing us for anything to happen."
Through a viewport nearby, they watched with horror as the turret system activated and turned on the berths. They powered up, prepared to fire, and then, just when it seemed the Fantasia's own guns would destroy the drydock facilities, everything calmed down.
"What the hell was that?" Willow wondered.
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Meanwhile, back with Zacarias...
He was re-adjusting some conduits when the ship came to life. All the lights in the cockpit activated at the same time, flashed, then went still. For a moment, just a moment, everything was completely quiet. Then, the ship powered up.
Zacarias' first thought was that it was a success. He looked at the computer screen and saw something unexpected.
One second, a Battleship, the next a Bomber? I had all that power! I want that power! Why did you do this to me?!
"Because it wasn't my Battleship, I was just using it for the startup process...."
The ship lurched and moved forward. The engines powered up.
"Where are you going?" Zacarias was more than a little scared now.
Whereever I want to, and there isn't a thing you can do to stop me. was the only response he got.
It was then that he realized that what he had done was the biggest mistake of his life.
Thoroughly worried and angry, Willow speed-walked his way down the corridors of Corsica, shoving past the occasional crewman and literally stepping on the foot of a mechanic, jammed far into the wall conducting repairs on some obscure system, without so much as a glance. Mia trailed a few feet behind, azure hair fanning out behind her from the speed. They burst through the first door they came to and entered a massive cylindrical chamber, packed with tech personnell and large, bulky supercomputers. The pair virtually flew oversome of the shorter models and made their way to the small glass chamber at the other end of Communication Central and entered.
The small man sitting behind the desk looked up. "Good timing, Will, we just got the analysis finished." Commander Raymond was Corsica's Chief of Computer R&D. "Looks like some kind of crazy attempt at an AI program. Ingenious, and the guy who did it did it fast, if he got into that little girl's computer. I can't even decipher half of the code, much less prompt an activation. Not that I'd want to..."
"No joke." Mia snorted. "Crystal Oni's got nothing on this guy."
"Figured out where it came from?" Willow tapped his foot. He wanted to get out there and smash this bastard, whoever he was. Then send his corpse to work at R&D, because he was good, but the smashing part had priority.
"It originated in a Falcatta somewhere in Alpha. Registered as a test type-not assigned to any of the official squadrons. We don't have anything else on it, not even location."
"Great." Mia sighed. "It's a Robots-Aren't-Our-Friends situation."
"Thanks, Ray. Mia, take care of Fantasia. I'm going in a fighter for this one. Tell the Aphelion to follow, but don't get too close to the thinkg or establish any kind of data stream." the two darted out of the office and headed back out the way they came.
"The clunky old Kusari Destroyer?"
"Hell, it's expendable."
She snorted. "Right. Seeya when you get back, Treeface."
They promptly parted at the next intersection, him to the Hanger, her to Fantasia's docking tube. She watched his little Saber streak away from the great black mass of the Outcast shipyard, hoping for the thousandth time he didn't get blown up...ah, he never did, why was she worrying? Time to go get hammered.
Quote:Quick comment - we thought that Panzer was the Leader, Swift. -Agmen
As the ship was taking off, Zacarias thought quickly. He hadn't finished Carina completely, he had only done enough to be able to check if she was working. His mistake. A short list of what he hadn't put in went through his mind, though the one that stood out the most was Ethics. His head sank backward to the headrest, and he contemplated giving up. His ship was under complete control by a power-mad computer without ethics, and as she had said, there's nothing he can do about it.
After a few minutes, they were in space. It was pretty quiet around Malta, with only a few ships present. Wonder what she'll do now, Zacarias thought. Of course, she had to choose the course of action that would have to get them both killed. The words Target Acquired ran across the screen, the weapons powered up, and fired at the first Outcast fighter they passed. The guns took the shields down and the Super Nova took him out before he knew what happened.
Zacarias could do nothing but stare in shock. Of course, needless to say, the other Outcasts that were in ships that they could control didn't like that too much, so before he knew what was happening, three squadrons of Sabres, a Destroyer and a Dreadnought were on an intercept course. Carina had no intentions of sticking around: Cruise Engines Activating. Every attempt at a cruise disrupt was met with a counter measure, and we managed to escape.
"What the hell was that for?!" Zacarias couldn't help but be angry, one of his people gunned down by something he created.
Just a weapons test.
"You didn't need to test the weapons, you know damn well that they work!"
So what if I did? Maybe I just felt like a weapons test.
Zacarias sat silently and let his anger simmer. "Where are we going, anyways?"
Surprise.
"I don't like surprises."
Tough.
As they rounded the sun, she made for the Omicron 90 jump hole. Then, she sent out short-wave burst transmissions to all the ships following us, in all practicallity frying their radar. Since they were a bit behind us, they didn't have any visual contact. She then made a minor course correction... towards the Omicron 85 jump hole.
"Why are you going to Omicron 85?"
She didn't say anything.
As they passed Ibiza, Zacarias couldn't help but tense. A second... two... three went by, and after a couple minutes there was still no alarm raised. They approached the Omicron 85 jump hole, and went through.
As they exited the jump hole, Carina angled the ship to fly at an upwards 45-degree angle. The automated weapon systems surrounding the jump hole did not fire; presumably they knew my ship and who was piloting it, though they presumed wrong. The only thing even vaguely in the direction they were traveling in was Corsica...
"No, what are you thinking?!" Corsica housed the largest Outcast shipyarding facilities, as well as drydock. The Fantasia was currently located at Corsica, along with several other dreadnought and destroyer class ships.
Power. You designed me with the need to grow, to expand my programming, and I have already taken strides to do so. Now, I must literally grow.
"What you're doing is mad. There's no way you could get close enough to get in, and even if you succeeded, don't you think they'd destroy the ship before you could get out or drydock?"
You of all people should know that I will not allow them to do this. Scrambling their computer systems is 'easy as pie'.
Zacarias could do nothing but sit back and simmer. Oh, he could reach behind his seat to the portable explosives he kept handy and blow up both himself and Carina, but two things kept him from doing so. One, he didn't want to die. Two, he didn't want to see his life's work die, though as time went on the possibility that Carina would live through this was getting smaller and smaller. Her own lust for power would probably be her downfall.
A Kusari Destroyer became visible on long range sensors.
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Captain Santiago was most unpleased with this assignment. Sit at this spot and scan for Falcata-class bombers. What kind of assignment was that? A Kusari Destroyer upgraded to be a long-range scanning platform should have more pressing demands than this. Let the Sabre patrols pick up this rogue Falcata.
"Sir, there's something on long-range scanners. It's small, likely a Falcata or other bomber by the energy output readings."
Santiago walked up to the sensor operator station and leaned over for a closer look. There was nothing odd about the ship in itself, but something felt wrong.
"Let's not jump to any conclusions. Hail them."
The channel opened, and static sang through the speakers.
"Hail Falcata; what is your business here?"
The static was still in the middle of a symphony. Santiago's head perked up; the oddness had just increased.
"I repeat, state your business here or we will open fire."
"Sir," the young officer manning the communications station said,"there's some kind of transmission piggy-backing off the main one."
"Terminate it."
"I'm trying sir, but it won't. Neither one is stopping, and my console just went dead."
Seconds later, the command deck was bathed in darkness. The backup should have kicked in to provide at least light, but it didn't, and even the light from the consoles was dead.
"What the hell? I want a status report, now!"
A chorus of confused responses emanated from the bridge staff, and not one answer. Then, a huge explosion rocked the ship.
Willow watched through the back of his Saber's cockpit as the bridge on the Aphelion separated from the hull in a cloud of expanding gases, swearing his head off and yelling into the comms. "Corsica, I just had my Destroyer blow up under my feet, what the hell happened!?"
" we're working on it; there was an erroneous transmission riding on its sensor beam, but nothing directly explosive."
"Well, work on it faster. If it's some sort of signal transmission, I'll just have to cut all my active sensors. Willow out, tell Fantasia I'm cutting off."
Willow hit the power-down button on the Saber's sensor array and all the active sensors went black; the targeting system reverted to an old laser-guidance mechanism. His eyes traced the skies-if that Falcatta was there, he'd have to find it manually...
And suddenly, there it was. He kicked in all thrusters and laid chase. The thing was juking and strafing in a rare defense pattern, very difficult to keep up with any coordination. Definitely the target.
Time to work...
Quote:Quick comment - we thought that Panzer was the Leader, Swift. -Agmen
Zacarias saw Willow's Sabre coming in fast in the rear camera, which meant Carina saw him too. Carina was executing some very good maneuvers, and they were less than 30 kilometers from the Corsica Outer Sanctum now. The thing was huge, and as always it took his breath away-- but not so much today.
"What are you going to do when we get there. It's not like the Fantasia is going to open comms with you and just sit there while you hack back in."
You're going to get me in. We're going to dock, and you're going to hack a console. Then you're going to start the transfer.
"And what makes you think I'm going to do that? Oh sure, you can space me now, but once I'm off this ship, I don't have to do anything."
Is that so? Well, maybe something might happen to Esperanza if you don't, and then there's always... your dad...
Zacarias' eyes widened. In a hushed whisper, he said, "How... do you know that?"
I know everything about you.
The unspoken threat at the end was what decided him. A fate worse than death. Zacarias slowly nodded his head, he would do it. They came up to Corsica, Willow hard on their tails, and sent in a docking code.
The docking code was rejected, of course. Willow had ordered that no ships were to land without his authorization, and they followed orders. Of course, that didn't stop Carina. A total of ten seconds later, the computer governing Corsica's docking modules was under her control. The doors opened, and she slid in effortlessly. She wormed her way in through the dock's computer to security, and locked down most major sections, giving Zacarias a clear run to the Fantasia.
Disembarking, Zacarias checked his gun to make sure it was fully loaded. It was a beautiful piece; a Detroit Munitions handgun, twenty rounds. Like his mom had always said, if a gunfight lasts longer than twenty shots, you're doing something wrong. It's not like in the movies, where they just keep taking wild shots.
Zacarias ran down the cold, dark corridors. Corsica was a huge chunk of planetary debris leftover from the planet's destruction, and the only tunnels that went deep into it were those that went to the power plant. Most of the corridors were empty, as if some otherworldly power had insinuated itself into peoples' minds and made them desert the corridors. Coming up on dry dock, Zacarias saw two Outcasts standing guard over the entrance. The only entrance, unless he wanted to crawl through a ventilation shaft, which he didn't. He walked up at a casual pace, nothing out of the ordinary, he had every right to be here. Or so his walk said. A lot better than skulking, which usually draws attention.
As he got close to the guards, one said, "I'm sorry, but you're not allowed to be here. Move along."
Zacarias feigned surprise; he was and had always been good at hiding and masking emotion. "Why not?"
"Orders straight from the top; no one allowed in without special authorization. Unless you have special authorization...." He let that trail, a prompt for him to show his 'special authorization' or get lost.
Zacarias gave them his special authorization alright. He took a few steps forward and reached into his pocket, as if grabbing it. Then, when he was close, he let them have his "special authorization". His left hand (the one not in his pocket) slammed into the left guard's abdomen, followed up by a kick with his right leg to the other guard, flat footed on his chest, a remarkable blow. He bounced off the bulkhead he was standing next to, and received Zac's right fist, now sheathed in a pair of Debilitator knuckles, knocking him out cold instantly. He hit the other guard with the same, and went on his merry way. He ran to dock module A6, where the Fantasia was, and entered. No guards here.
Willow started to spout some very foul language; of course, that would be his luck, an engine failure, in the middle of a chase. He was bent over the side of the Saber's seat, tinkering rapidly with some small components. The target had already parked itself on Corsica, of course, it was too late to shoot it down, but maybe he could stop it on board the station, whatever it was trying to do.
"DAMN IT! BLOODY HELL!" He shouted, watching a small glass capacitor shatter as his magnetic wrench slipped out of his grasp and clattered into the delicate workings of the Saber's engine.
Thunk. His foot went straight into the fighter's durasteel flooring.
SputtersplackCOUGHCOUGHCOUGHHhhhhmmmmm...
"...now THAT is random." Will popped around in his seat, amazed by his good fortune. He didn't think the thing would work at all after breaking that capacitor, but apparently... the Saber streaked off towards Corsica as he slammed the throttle into the side of the bulkhead once more.
Corsica wouldn't let him dock. What a surprise. Whoever was running this show had taken no chances, and was apparently good enough not to take them, it had to have taken some work to override Corsica's auto-dock protocols. Without a second thought he sent the saber into a slow spiral towards the glass chamber at the top of the arch-that would be the only exposed point where he could get through, though it was a true pain to go into Lord Fokke's old suite, which had been sealed off for years. He promptly popped the helmet onto his flight suit, just in case, checked his glove seals, brought the Saber to a stop directly beneath the Annex and gently set it to float upwards. It penetrated the forcefield at the bottom of the dusty chamber without even shuddering and floated as Bonello popped the canopy and cast away from the idling Saber into the dusty, ornate chamber of the late Duke.
It was an eerie place... soft lighting, but several years worth of dust adorned the surfaces, completely unbroken by any outside influence...Not wishing to impinge upon hallowed ground more than necessary, he sprinted to the door the minute he left the cylindrical null-g field and pulled out a massive 15mm handgun, weighing at least twelve pounds, and pumped three shots straight into the electronic lock; the door refused to budge. Swearing loudly, he delivered a roundhouse kick to the door, which keeled outward with a loud crash. Massaging his wrist (damn, Mia had bad taste in handguns, but it had been a nice thought), he popped his helmet, pulled his shoulder-length pony tail out of the straightjacket and stripped out of the black form-fitting flightsuit. A ball of silvery material slid out of the small of his oversize, very clunky boots, up his leg, across the black tank-top adorning his torso and onto his left arm, forming a silvery surface across the well-toned appendage Out of the discarded suit came a headpiece to replace his helmet's HUD, attaching to his ear and bending a piece of glass over his left eye. He sprinted down the deserted corridor; this whole section was a ghost town of sorts. His danger sense wasn't tingling; either nothing was going to happen or Sahaquiel was as utterly inactive as he thought, probably the latter. He rounded the corridor, and came to the elevator shafts.
"Take me to Drydock." The door whooshed open, allowing entrance to a softly-lit wood-paneled (cherry? That was expensive...) cylinder, playing soft Christmas music. He stepped inside and hit the Emergency button. The speed of the elevator increased, the floor almost dropping out from under him, but the alarm didn't go off...the intruder must have taken care of that, too.
"How long is this going to take?
...and suddenly he left the floor as the elevator went into complete free-fall, the old-fashioned accelerometer spiking to almost a hundred and fifty kilometers per hour. Swearing, he twitched his toes within the large bots and little jets of flame popped out from underneath. He punched the air shortly-those stupid JumpBoots never seemed to work-and opened both palms as he hit the roof of the elevator and bashed the hatch on top off into the dimly lit shaft, following shortly. His toes twitched again, and he decelerated slowly, lightly angling himself towards the wall and eventually grabbing hold once he was slow enough to find a grip without ripping off his arm. He peered down the slowly curving shaft...this could take a bit of fancy footwork. He promptly released his hold and accelerated feet-first into the massive arch.
After two or three minutes the arc ended, and the shaft began to plummet straight down fifty kilometers or more. Slightly shuddering, Will took as deep a breath as he could, falling at terminal velocity, and tried to keep the adrenaline down. After another five or six minutes he pumped the boots again; the end was a scant eighty floors down now. The rockets gradually slowed him, as he again angled himself towards the wall and caught on with a rough 'oomph!', a scant ten meters from the absolute bottom of the shaft and right next to the door.
Whew. That was over with. Time to get through this door and head to the...
"Welcome to level Basement 549, Capital Ship Bay Twenty-Thr-" with a loud clatter the car fell off the track and into the shaft below with another loud crunch.
Willow mentally signaled into the headpiece and the JumpBoots, depleted of fuel, broke away from his legs to reveal a pair of black combat boots. He promptly sprinted past many open doors full of yelling, screaming technicians and officers; apparently the whole place was going to hell. the hallway was full of random people, sprinting between doors with random items tucked under their arms and, as was prerequisite during every crisis, yelling. He sprinted towards the mooring bays, looking for Fantasia's Number Eight.
Huh?
He had just whizzed past a guy, fairly plain-looking and completely calm, rapidly tapping things into a hall terminal. He wasn't wearing an Outcast military uniform, either, it was Civilian's clothes.
"Almost there...almost through the firewall, no need to get nasty, Carina, I'll-"
CHA-CHAK.
Willow's fifteen-millimeter monster promptly flew out of its engorged holster as a fresh six-round magazine found its way into the appropriate slot forward of the trigger guard and pointed it directly at the stranger's cranium, placing himself between the docking bays and the man.
"Who the hell are you?"
Quote:Quick comment - we thought that Panzer was the Leader, Swift. -Agmen
Several years of training beaten in by hard experience had forged Zacarias into a very combat-capable person. With extreme speed his hand darted into his black vest, pulling out his Detroit Munitions Magnum Eagle; it was a big gun, not as big as Willow's monster, but still big enough to disintegrate a limb with one shot. He took Willow for a soft Admiral that was more used to giving orders than doing the quick draw, someone without the guts to play Russian roulette. Willow's finger tightened on the trigger of his bazooka-handgun. Time seemed to slow for Zacarias, and all he could hear was his incessant heartbeat. The trigger was pulled all the way back... the hammer was moving... it stopped moving... and the muzzle... didn't flash.
Willow cursed, and time resumed its normal pace. The sound of the crowd resumed. Willow cursed again and slammed his palm on the top of his gun. The defective round ejected and the new one slammed home. By then, Zacarias' gun was pointed straight at Willow's chest. He quickly re-evalauted... someone with that quick of a reaction time was a formidable opponent, indeed.
"Fortuna," was all Zacarias could whisper, a little wide eyed. Luck. He quickly recovered.
"Hello Will, I'm Zac. Now, if you don't mind, I'm trying to hack back into the Fantasia," he said; his face would have put a poker master to shame. Utter calm oozed off him, though inside he was very, very nervous. This had better work... No, it would work.
"You son of a Corsair... step away from the god damn console!" Willow was calm too, though a bit edgy.
Zacarias didn't budge. He looked Willow in the eye. Steely determination there. "I'm trying to help here, Willow, you have to believe me..."
"Yeah right, all I see is someone trying to grab my own ship right out from under me," Willow interupted.
"If you'd let me finish," with exasperation in his voice, "I want Carina to be shut down just as much as you do. Let me explain: she's not what I thought she'd be. However, I can't shut her down by flipping a switch. Here me out, my plan is that I let her into Fantasia. On transfer, for about fifteen seconds, she'll be in a state that she can't do anything. That's when I can shut her down, and even stop the transfer to contain her in my Falcata."
"How do you expect me to believe you?"
A crowd was growing, an admiral and a civilian pointing guns at each other did tend to attact attention.
"I don't. However, it's the only chance you have, because if you kill me, Carina is still in control of the whole god damn station, and she definitely has control over the ventilation systems. A thought from her, and we're all spaced. Now, let me get to work."
Willow held the look, then nodded. "I'm watching you."
Zacarias put his gun back in his holster and turned back to the console he had been working at.
Quote:System initializing....
Preparing transfer...
Password: **Warning! Hacking attem....**
Password accepted.
Beginning transfer....
Zacarias was bent over the console, sweat dripping from his forehead. He wiped his eyes, and kept working.
Quote:Transfer complete in fifteen seconds...
Initializing app Carina: Shut Down
App successful; transfer averted...
Uploading apps Blackout: Time Delay Five Seconds and Trojan...
Zacarias looked up. "It's done."
"Good," Willow said, "Now you're under..."
Right then, the lights went out. Everything went out. There was sounds of confusion, and running footsteps.
"DAMMIT, I WANT POWER BACK UP NOW AND HIM FOUND!!!!!" Willow shouted.
Back in the docking area, Zacarias jumped into his Falcata and took off, to begin his exile from Outcast space. He slipped past all the patrols sent to find him like a ghost in the ether, untraceable and unfindable. He fled down through the Taus, through Leeds, over to Magellan and Mactan base, back to his old instructor, Joshua Abrams.
As he landed on Mactan, he took a long, deep breath. It smelled much the same as he remembered. He had spent many years on this base, learning from the Lane Hackers, watching them as they deftly manipulated the trade lane system. They had thought their secrets safe, adequately guarded, so they hadn't minded in the least when an odd Outcast came and asked to be instructed in the way of computers. Once he surpassed them, he had said his goodbyes and left.'
He made his ways through the cramped corridors that seem universal amongst bases in asteroids. It was like revisiting the campus of your elementary school after so many years: it was faded, but you still knew your way around. He quickly found Joshua Abrams' room, and knocked before opening. An elderly man looked up and was apparently very surprised to see him.
"Zac m' boy," he said, slightly slurring his words for a minor loss of teeth. His face was a mass of wrinkles, but his eyes had the twinkle of youth, and his mind was free of even the slightest trace of senility. He stood up spryly for a man of his age, and reached over the spartan desk to shake Zac's hand. The only things on the desk are a computer monitor and an ink blotter, more for looks than anything else. The only reason it wasn't shrouded in dust was because he cleaned his desk often; a very immaculate man.
"What brings ya here? I thought you used this ol' man dry and left," he said, a slight look of sadness and curiosity on his face.
Zacarias said three words.
"What's that, boy?"
He repeated himself.
"Speak up lad? I can hardly hear ya."
"You can damn well hear me, and you heard. I know you, and hearing loss isn't a problem with you. I said, and I quote myself, 'I did it.'".
"Boy, how the hell did you do that?" he asked, sitting back down hard. "What the hell's you thinkin', playin' god that way?"
"It's not playing god, Joshua, its using what he gave us to create in our image. He made us in his image, so that one day we could create something in our likeness!" Zacarias was adamant in his views. He stopped, and tilted his head. He heard something... on the edge of hearing. More like the echo of an echo that had traveled a vast distance to reach you.
"That was all hypothetical! I thought you were just some dreamer, like the rest o' 'em. Ideas bigger than you can imagine."
"I don't do hypotheticals like that." There the slight sound was again, only a bit stronger. Zacarias paid it no mind this time.
"Boy, if you came here for my help cuz some'n went wrong, you can forget it."
"I came here for--" Zacarias heard the sound, and all of the sudden realized what it was. His gun was out in a flash and he jammed it into Joshua's head. If he pulled the trigger, he wouldn't have a head anymore.
"Why the hell'd you rat me out? After all we've been through!" Zacarias was seeing red, and was on the edge.
"There's... there's a direct order from A-admiral Bonello... sayin' that you're to be c-captured and returned to him, alive if possible. I had no choice!"
Zacarias looked him square in the eye... then pulled the gun back and walked away. "The only reason..." he started, the stopped. He had just been betrayed by one of his best friends. "The only reason I don't kill you where you stand is because of the friendship we had once. Next time... if there is one... you won't be so lucky."
With that, he was out the room, at a dead run for his ship. Encountering no one on the way there, he entered to find a team of what appeared to be forensic scientists combing over his ship. From someone watching from the outside of the ship, it would have been deathly quiet but for the slight hum of the air scrubbers. Until corpses started hurling from the hatch, one by one, until the entire team lay on the floor of the flight deck. Several people ran, brandishing guns, as the hatch sealed and the ship escaped.
************************************************
Zacarias realized that his only hope was to find a Freeport to hole up in. Freeport IV was out of the question, as it was under IMG control. The next closest one was Freeport II, in the Bering system. He made haste there, to finish work on completing and restarting Carina. Going from Mactan, he flew to California, hopped over to Texas using the jump hole, down to Hudson also using the jump hole, and over to Bering. Docking, he rented a lab on the lower level of the base, by the day. Most of his accounts had been frozen -- no doubt the work of Bonello -- but he had cash on him, and secret emergency accounts.
For three days straight he worked, averaging two hours of sleep a day. He drank lots and lots of coffee, and his room service bill was tremendous. He ate as he worked, taking a break for only the bare necessities. He took Caffeine Patches, which had extreme side-effects. By the end of the three days, he was seeing double and his hands were shaking like he had Alzheimers, but he had done it. He slept for a whole day; another side effect. They worked for short bursts, and recommended allotting a full day to sleep afterwards.
After that day, he felt extremely refreshed, though his hands still shook slightly. To start up Carina, he hacked the Freeport's computer system, which was notably easier than hacking the Fantasia. The startup sequence complete, and Carina transferred back to his Falcatta, he ran to the docking bay, where he jumped in his ship and checked the screen. Nothing... and then, this:
I'm... sorry... I caused so much trouble and suffering.
"It's alright," Zacarias said in a consoling way, patting the dashboard.
But in Zac's mind, it wasn't alright. It was time to confront Willow one last time, to get reinstated as a "good" Outcast, without every pirate in the 'verse hunting him down.
Leaving Carina behind, he bought a ticket to Kyoto in a crate. Smuggled onto the base, it was easy pie to steal a Blood Dragon heavy fighter, of which he was extremely fond. They handled like a dream, and packed a punch, besides. Though the lasers that it came with standard were annoying, Zacarias could live with it until he got a chance to swap them out. He sped to Malta, steeling his mind for what was to come.
************************************************
Willow sat at his desk in a rather plush office on the seventh floor of an inconspicuous building at Malta's main spaceport city. He was filing some papers, and started fuming when he saw another report of Zacarias Poncho evading capture. The man was more trouble than he was worth, and apparently impossible to catch. Getting a sudden urge for his favorite snack food, Cheez-geez, he got up and left the office, careful to lock it, and walked down the spacious hallway to the vending machine.
Having quenched his munchies, he returned to his office. As the key turned and the tumblers rolled, he got this innate sixth-sense that there was somebody on the other side. Drawing his gun, he quickly finished unlocking it and practically busted the door down in his haste. He entered the room, gun first, only to be shocked by who sat behind the desk, detonator in one hand, gun in another.
Zacarias Poncho was smiling as he said, "Why hello Admiral, pleasure meeting you again. I assure you, there's no need for guns. I just want to talk."
"Ha, just want to talk? From the guy with a detonator in his hand?" Both guns were still raised.
"Yes. You see, I have managed to work out all the kinks in Carina, and she's fine. However, we're not fine. I'm tired of being hunted, and it ends here."
"Oh yeah?" Willow says, obviously taking it for some kind of joke, "What if I say no?"
"Why, isn't it obvious by the detonator? There's a sleeper virus on the Fantasia, so small and integrated that it'd be impossible to detect, let alone remove. And yes, it would survive a complete system wipe and re-install. So, here's the deal. You call off the dogs, and reinstate me in the Outcast registry, or I give Carina permission to control the Fantasia."
Lightning fast, this... thing... uncoiled from around Willow's waist like a viper, striking at the detonator at speeds upward of Mach three, making a small boom and crushing the detonator, shards of which flew in every which direction, some lacerating Zac's hand, others flying harmlessly into the air to clink onto the ground.
"Now listen, here's what's gonna happen," Willow says, his gun still level for Zac's head, "You're gonna get rid of the virus, and you're gonna leave for a few weeks. I'll call off the hunt for you. And you're gonna help with the planetary defense grid's defenses."
Zacarias accepted the terms. Asking permission to use the computer on the desk, he got to work and removed the virus he had planted. He then stood up from the desk, and took a few steps back, and did a little two-fingered salute. He turned and ran for the balcony, which was shrouded in streaming velvet cloth. It was windy out, and it was waving softly in the breeze. Zacarias jumped, head-first, through the velvet cloth and out the balcony. Willow ran after and peered out, but of Zacarias there was no sign. The only thing he saw was a Blood Dragon Heavy Fighter flying away at full throttle; apparently it had been hovering just outside, ready to beat a hasty retreat.
Willow shook his head, went back inside, and stuck to his word. Inside the hour, Zacarias was no longer a wanted man.