I'm considering redo-ing Insurgency Division. Again
With Mark Two, I still wasn't entirely sure what would happen next, most of the time I had an idea, thought about it a bit and ran with it, which probably made it rather hard to follow. Now I think I've nailed everything down - what this character is like, what he does etc. I've got the setting, and I've got the characters. I figured out what they'll do, according to their personality and the acts of the others. So I'm doing another rewrite:
The TGA is the Terran Colonial Authority now (The TCA). Slight change, fits better
Replaced the IIA with the Inquisition. Originally, the Inquisition was a sub-dept. in the IIA, but over time I realised that the Inquisition did everything the IIA was meant to do
I've finally sorted out why Calliger got recruited into the IIA/Inquisition
I actually have a full document on how the Terran Colonial Authority (and all it's departments, including the Inquisition and the Terran Land Army) works. I can post it if you want.
Head Directive Lewis (leads the Inquisition) and Chancellor William Alckright (The leader of the TCA, mentioned in HD Lewis's letter in both mark one and two) are proper characters and have a proper bearing on the plot, as they should, being the two most important people in the TCA.
Anders is actually an Interrogator (Someone training to be an Investigator) now - that's why he's with Adams.
I nailed down Taylor's personality and so forth in mark two. She won't change.
You'll like what happens to O'Day, The 'betrayed' Captain Lannings and The Alaskus (Remember that? The ship from mark one)
The Hellion have been dropped from the plot. They were a left-over from the CZTA universe of mark one. They're no longer needed - the TCA is falling apart because it's simply far too big, amongst other things (mostly brought upon itself)
Jones and Sanderson will actually do stuff instead of bickering and flying about places this time.
As it's not nearly as drastic a change as the transition from mark one to mark two, I won't be starting from scratch. In fact, most of it will be mark two material edited here and there. This has a great chance of becoming confusing, so I do ask you to forget everything from Mark Two before reading Mark Three.
Thank you (I'll be posting Mark three in this thread - I started the thing early to how people react to the new version)
Insurgency Division... Mark THREE?
Moderator: Moderators
-
Guessmyname
- Posts: 3301
- Joined: 28 Apr 2005, 21:07
That's true. So thats why I always work out my plot lines in my mind.
But then again my mind is so active I watched Superman Returns and really enjoyed the movie, but through out the movie I planned, in my head, Five commercials I would like to see for movie's (Normal movies that should be made but haven't, like...er...Evengelion, Elfen Lied, Darkside ext), and I worked out the ending for Darkside: Extermination at least three times and came up came up with a enigmatic line for the end, just to confuse and puzzle my audience. And to give me an excuse to write...a sequel!
Is this indicitive of a mental problem?
I hope this one will be as much better as mark two was to mark one. If that makes sence.
But then again my mind is so active I watched Superman Returns and really enjoyed the movie, but through out the movie I planned, in my head, Five commercials I would like to see for movie's (Normal movies that should be made but haven't, like...er...Evengelion, Elfen Lied, Darkside ext), and I worked out the ending for Darkside: Extermination at least three times and came up came up with a enigmatic line for the end, just to confuse and puzzle my audience. And to give me an excuse to write...a sequel!
Is this indicitive of a mental problem?
I hope this one will be as much better as mark two was to mark one. If that makes sence.
-
Guessmyname
- Posts: 3301
- Joined: 28 Apr 2005, 21:07
-
Guessmyname
- Posts: 3301
- Joined: 28 Apr 2005, 21:07
I'm still writing. Hang tight.
I'm writing quite a few pages before I post anything. Mainly so that I can revise bits and bobs if necessary. You wouldn't want an Insurgency Devision Mark Four would you? (And, as a bonus - you get less AF-style speeling mistaks with this method)
I might rename it too
I'm writing quite a few pages before I post anything. Mainly so that I can revise bits and bobs if necessary. You wouldn't want an Insurgency Devision Mark Four would you? (And, as a bonus - you get less AF-style speeling mistaks with this method)
I might rename it too
-
Guessmyname
- Posts: 3301
- Joined: 28 Apr 2005, 21:07
Arr! I be back!
Prologue
Killgore smiled. She balanced the weapon and placed it on the desk. Jim walked past. Both were wearing white lab suits and were in a white weapons lab, with white light strips. All looked clean and sterile. Killgore had below-shoulder length blonde hair tied behind her head. Calm, of medium height, with striking blue eyes. Jim, a fellow weapons scientist, was a bit taller, and was bald.
├óÔé¼┼ôAny luck?├óÔé¼┬Ø He asked.
Killgore nodded. ├óÔé¼┼ôWatch.├óÔé¼┬Ø She picked the weapon up and aimed it at a target board. She pulled the trigger
A pulse of blue light and energy shot forth from the barrel, blasting apart the board, and part of the wall behind it.
Jim laughed in awe. ├óÔé¼┼ôThis is brilliant!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThe Inquisition are going to love us when they get their first batch├óÔé¼┬Ø Killgore said in agreement. ├óÔé¼┼ôThese things could win us the war├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jim shook his head in amazement. ├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóve said it before and I├óÔé¼Ôäóll say it again.├óÔé¼┬Ø He put his arm around her shoulder and gave it a squeeze ├óÔé¼┼ôYou are brilliant.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Killgore smiled and looked up into his face. ├óÔé¼┼ôWe├óÔé¼Ôäóll have some trouble mass producing them though. They├óÔé¼Ôäóre incredibly complex├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThat doesn├óÔé¼Ôäót matter├óÔé¼┬Ø Jim said ├óÔé¼┼ôWe have the Genesis Forge├óÔé¼┬Ø
Then the lights went out.
The emergency lights flickered back on, bathing everyone in red. Jim seemed frozen. Killgore slid out from under his arm and ran to the nearest computer. It was blank.
├óÔé¼┼ôOh fuck├óÔé¼┬Ø She whispered. An EMP. And that meant...
├óÔé¼┼ôThey├óÔé¼Ôäóre after the Forge!├óÔé¼┬Ø Jim cursed, before a round blew apart the back of his head. Two heavily armed men in black armour burst into the room. Two blue bolts and a bright flash and blood and guts were splattered all over the walls. Killgore had her nickname for a reason. She safed her pistol and pointed it to the floor before exiting into the corridor.
She ran into (and very nearly shot) a group of security troops. She piled into one and ended up sprawled across the floor. One of them picked her up gently, helping her to her feet.
├óÔé¼┼ôAre you okay m├óÔé¼Ôäóam?├óÔé¼┬Ø He asked
├óÔé¼┼ôYes, thank you├óÔé¼┬Ø She said, looking for her pistol.
├óÔé¼┼ôGrenade!├óÔé¼┬Ø
The security force dived for cover. Killgore wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót fast enough and ended up sprawled against a wall. Everything was a bit blurred and her ears rang. A man ran up to her in a black suit, offering his hand in a hurry. Killgore took it.
Chapter One
+++ Data Transmitting +++
+++ Data Packet Received +++
+++ Decrypting... +++
+++ Decryption complete +++
To: James Calliger
From: Inquisition Delta-Sector Director Alden
You have been called in to work for the Imperial Inquisition, according to the Act of Inquisitorial Loyalist Aid, circa Y10023. You├óÔé¼Ôäóre presence is required by Investigator Galliger Adams, at the Towii Dock. The Inquisition has filed your company for bankruptcy ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ you are no longer needed there.
I would advise you not ask too many questions. To serve in the Inquisition and the Terran Colonial Authority is an honour, and Investigator Adams is not renowned for his patience with newcomers.
Director Alden
+++ Message Ends +++
James Calliger would quite like to have sworn loudly at that moment when he read the message, but fortunately managed to avoid doing so in the middle of his meeting. They had been discussing the future of his company, following the loss of their principle supplier. Their planet was invaded earlier than anticipated, and all the mines went with it. Bye, bye stock, to say the least. His company now was being liquidated. What a day: Wake up: Find out that your company is being liquidated, forced to cancel your 50th anniversary because of an emergency meeting (├óÔé¼┼ôIf selling everything off you don├óÔé¼Ôäót need me!├óÔé¼┬Ø), get recruited into the Inquisition. Had life always been like this or had he been too wrapped up in himself to notice? The other members of the board were looking at him uncertainly. He closed down the lid of the messagetop in a confused manner
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóm sorry, I ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ I have to go...├óÔé¼┬Ø He said, and immediately strode out of the room, the board shouting in protest. He entered into a hallway and went for the lift. Sarah was in there to.
├óÔé¼┼ôHey there├óÔé¼┬Ø She said, noticing his manner - and one of the board members striding forwards after him with his face red
├óÔé¼┼ôHello├óÔé¼┬Ø James replied, fidgeting with the messagetop and watching the lift beep down towards the ground floor.
├óÔé¼┼ôBad day?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôYou could say that├óÔé¼┬Ø
The lift doors opened up into the main lobby. James walked out nervously, fidgeting with his tie nervously, with the messagetop clamped under his armpit. James suddenly realised he was sweating. Now why was that?
Exiting the office he received a call from his wife, Janise.
├óÔé¼┼ôHow long?├óÔé¼┬Ø She asked, immediately
├óÔé¼┼ôIt├óÔé¼Ôäós over├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôExcellent! We can still - ├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóve been recruited into the Inquisition├óÔé¼┬Ø James blurted
There was a rather stunned silence from the other end of the line
├óÔé¼┼ôOh├óÔé¼┬Ø Janise said surprised ├óÔé¼┼ôDo you know when you├óÔé¼Ôäóll be back?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhen I am, I├óÔé¼Ôäóll call you├óÔé¼┬Ø
James shut off the ear stud
He├óÔé¼Ôäód been very bitter when he declared he├óÔé¼Ôäód been called up. Was he meant to? Should he be angry or resentful? The Inquisition were famous galaxy-wide. The saviours of the Terran Colonial Authority. The one thing nearly all kids wanted to do was join the Inquisition. He himself knew that he had liked them, but now he knew he liked them they protected him. Now, he├óÔé¼Ôäód been snatched up off the ground and told he would be working with someone who sounded like some sort of arrogant and impatient fool. It was like being slapped in the face. All the myths, legends, books and films that showed the Investigator as a glorious and honourable hero turned on it├óÔé¼Ôäós head. James hoped this Adams would be a one-off. He went to his car, to catch a monorail.
As the car drove, James set about sorting out his thoughts. He did like the Inquisition, and to be truthful, he was honoured to be working with them. His bitterness had stemmed from recent events in his life ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ events that had no bearing on the Inquisition wanted of him. He wondered what it was this Investigator Adams wanted with him. And why had he been so... so... nervous leaving the board room? What the hell had that been about?
***
├óÔé¼┼ôWhere is the bastard?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones asked tersely.
├óÔé¼┼ôHe├óÔé¼Ôäóll be here.├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson replied, though it sounded like he was no longer believing it
├óÔé¼┼ôOh, I know that, but do we have to stand out in the cold waiting for him?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones snapped.
├óÔé¼┼ôYou know we couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót stay in the ship. We├óÔé¼Ôäód get busted for wasting fuel keeping it warm.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôIt would keep the wind out!├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones argued
├óÔé¼┼ôDidn├óÔé¼Ôäót you get fined a few hundred for the last time you tried that?├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson asked innocently
├óÔé¼┼ôOh fine├óÔé¼┬Ø
The two pilots were sat shivering on deckchairs under the wing of their shuttlecraft, watching the rain fall. Their flight suits were too thin to keep the wind out, and had proved much too adept at absorbing lots of cold, cold rain. They were on platform nine with the puny little shuttlecraft the Inquisition had handed them, at the Towii main spaceport. It was a rather backwards one really. And it was raining too. Lots.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhen was he supposed to arrive?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôUh, today, I think├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson said, trying to remember
├óÔé¼┼ôYou don├óÔé¼Ôäót know?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones asked incredulously, leaning forward
├óÔé¼┼ôHe didn├óÔé¼Ôäót say├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jones snorted and flopped back into his seat. Ground-bound people never really cared much for promptness.
├óÔé¼┼ôAny idea what the little bastard looks like?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôHaven├óÔé¼Ôäót a clue├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôGreat.├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones said, waving his hands in annoyance ├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóm off for a caffeine├óÔé¼┬Ø He got out of his chair, wrapped his coat about himself to ward off the cold and rain and walked off
├óÔé¼┼ôDon├óÔé¼Ôäót get me one. That stuff tastes like crap├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson shouted after him, shuffling deeper in his chair slightly, trying to get some sleep. ├óÔé¼┼ôImpatient bastard├óÔé¼┬Ø he muttered.
***
The mansion was in a bad state; burned, battered and bruised with the local rioting. Yet it was still standing, whilst similar upper-class housing for miles around had been burnt to the ground. And the mansion was still in the possession of it├óÔé¼Ôäós original owner. For this reason, the two men, wearing large long-coats to ward against the rain, had come here. The armed guards let them pass. Annoying members of the Inquisition was generally a bad idea.
The two men walked up the steps to the main entrance, which was fortunately sheltered against the snow by a balcony above. Two women were waiting for them. One was in a black and blue two-piece and looked like a local, the other wore the same uniform as the guards and had the rugged look of a fighter. She had pale grey hair cut short above the shoulder. She was also tanned, something impossible to get on this cold rock.
Once under the protection of the balcony, the two men lowered their hoods. One had long dark-blonde hair. The other was much older, balding with iron-grey hair. His face was chiselled, wrinkled and scarred. The blonde├óÔé¼Ôäós face looked relatively unharmed. Both looked emotionless. The woman in black and blue walked forwards, offering a hand with neither of the two men took.
├óÔé¼┼ôLady Montoya will be here shortly. I am afraid she has a lot of work to be doing at this time├óÔé¼┬Ø She said.
├óÔé¼┼ôRest assured ma├óÔé¼Ôäóam, we have no wish to waste any more of Miss Montoya├óÔé¼Ôäós time than we have to.├óÔé¼┬Ø
The woman in black and blue looked slightly startled, whilst the militaristic one merely gave a slight grin.
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóm Lady Donnel.├óÔé¼┬Ø The woman in black and blue said, ├óÔé¼┼ôThis Luciana Taylor, our head of security├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôInvestigator Galligan Adams├óÔé¼┬Ø The grey-haired man said
├óÔé¼┼ôInterrogator Sam Anders├óÔé¼┬Ø Said the blonde haired one.
Again no hands were shaken.
├óÔé¼┼ôWould you follow me please?├óÔé¼┬Ø Lady Donnel asked, opening the doors and gesturing into a foyer. Investigator Adams nodded.
├óÔé¼┼ôIf I am to follow you, you must be ahead of me. Ladies first├óÔé¼┬Ø
Lady Donnel was again caught off guard. She seemed very nervous. Miss Taylor, however, grinned again, looking perfectly calm. Definitely not from this system.
Lady Donnel entered the foyer, followed by Inspector Adams and Int. Anders. Miss Taylor took up the rear.
================
PRODUCTION NOTES
This bit's pretty much final. I've also given James a personality! He really wasn't much in the previous two versions, was he?
Hope how I call him James instead of Calliger (James is his first name) doesn't confuse too many people. Not that many people read this or anything
EDIT: Fixed a slight accident with BBCode and the chapter one heading.
EDIT: Fixed another mistake, this time in the message bit
Prologue
Killgore smiled. She balanced the weapon and placed it on the desk. Jim walked past. Both were wearing white lab suits and were in a white weapons lab, with white light strips. All looked clean and sterile. Killgore had below-shoulder length blonde hair tied behind her head. Calm, of medium height, with striking blue eyes. Jim, a fellow weapons scientist, was a bit taller, and was bald.
├óÔé¼┼ôAny luck?├óÔé¼┬Ø He asked.
Killgore nodded. ├óÔé¼┼ôWatch.├óÔé¼┬Ø She picked the weapon up and aimed it at a target board. She pulled the trigger
A pulse of blue light and energy shot forth from the barrel, blasting apart the board, and part of the wall behind it.
Jim laughed in awe. ├óÔé¼┼ôThis is brilliant!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThe Inquisition are going to love us when they get their first batch├óÔé¼┬Ø Killgore said in agreement. ├óÔé¼┼ôThese things could win us the war├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jim shook his head in amazement. ├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóve said it before and I├óÔé¼Ôäóll say it again.├óÔé¼┬Ø He put his arm around her shoulder and gave it a squeeze ├óÔé¼┼ôYou are brilliant.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Killgore smiled and looked up into his face. ├óÔé¼┼ôWe├óÔé¼Ôäóll have some trouble mass producing them though. They├óÔé¼Ôäóre incredibly complex├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThat doesn├óÔé¼Ôäót matter├óÔé¼┬Ø Jim said ├óÔé¼┼ôWe have the Genesis Forge├óÔé¼┬Ø
Then the lights went out.
The emergency lights flickered back on, bathing everyone in red. Jim seemed frozen. Killgore slid out from under his arm and ran to the nearest computer. It was blank.
├óÔé¼┼ôOh fuck├óÔé¼┬Ø She whispered. An EMP. And that meant...
├óÔé¼┼ôThey├óÔé¼Ôäóre after the Forge!├óÔé¼┬Ø Jim cursed, before a round blew apart the back of his head. Two heavily armed men in black armour burst into the room. Two blue bolts and a bright flash and blood and guts were splattered all over the walls. Killgore had her nickname for a reason. She safed her pistol and pointed it to the floor before exiting into the corridor.
She ran into (and very nearly shot) a group of security troops. She piled into one and ended up sprawled across the floor. One of them picked her up gently, helping her to her feet.
├óÔé¼┼ôAre you okay m├óÔé¼Ôäóam?├óÔé¼┬Ø He asked
├óÔé¼┼ôYes, thank you├óÔé¼┬Ø She said, looking for her pistol.
├óÔé¼┼ôGrenade!├óÔé¼┬Ø
The security force dived for cover. Killgore wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót fast enough and ended up sprawled against a wall. Everything was a bit blurred and her ears rang. A man ran up to her in a black suit, offering his hand in a hurry. Killgore took it.
Chapter One
+++ Data Transmitting +++
+++ Data Packet Received +++
+++ Decrypting... +++
+++ Decryption complete +++
To: James Calliger
From: Inquisition Delta-Sector Director Alden
You have been called in to work for the Imperial Inquisition, according to the Act of Inquisitorial Loyalist Aid, circa Y10023. You├óÔé¼Ôäóre presence is required by Investigator Galliger Adams, at the Towii Dock. The Inquisition has filed your company for bankruptcy ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ you are no longer needed there.
I would advise you not ask too many questions. To serve in the Inquisition and the Terran Colonial Authority is an honour, and Investigator Adams is not renowned for his patience with newcomers.
Director Alden
+++ Message Ends +++
James Calliger would quite like to have sworn loudly at that moment when he read the message, but fortunately managed to avoid doing so in the middle of his meeting. They had been discussing the future of his company, following the loss of their principle supplier. Their planet was invaded earlier than anticipated, and all the mines went with it. Bye, bye stock, to say the least. His company now was being liquidated. What a day: Wake up: Find out that your company is being liquidated, forced to cancel your 50th anniversary because of an emergency meeting (├óÔé¼┼ôIf selling everything off you don├óÔé¼Ôäót need me!├óÔé¼┬Ø), get recruited into the Inquisition. Had life always been like this or had he been too wrapped up in himself to notice? The other members of the board were looking at him uncertainly. He closed down the lid of the messagetop in a confused manner
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóm sorry, I ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ I have to go...├óÔé¼┬Ø He said, and immediately strode out of the room, the board shouting in protest. He entered into a hallway and went for the lift. Sarah was in there to.
├óÔé¼┼ôHey there├óÔé¼┬Ø She said, noticing his manner - and one of the board members striding forwards after him with his face red
├óÔé¼┼ôHello├óÔé¼┬Ø James replied, fidgeting with the messagetop and watching the lift beep down towards the ground floor.
├óÔé¼┼ôBad day?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôYou could say that├óÔé¼┬Ø
The lift doors opened up into the main lobby. James walked out nervously, fidgeting with his tie nervously, with the messagetop clamped under his armpit. James suddenly realised he was sweating. Now why was that?
Exiting the office he received a call from his wife, Janise.
├óÔé¼┼ôHow long?├óÔé¼┬Ø She asked, immediately
├óÔé¼┼ôIt├óÔé¼Ôäós over├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôExcellent! We can still - ├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóve been recruited into the Inquisition├óÔé¼┬Ø James blurted
There was a rather stunned silence from the other end of the line
├óÔé¼┼ôOh├óÔé¼┬Ø Janise said surprised ├óÔé¼┼ôDo you know when you├óÔé¼Ôäóll be back?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhen I am, I├óÔé¼Ôäóll call you├óÔé¼┬Ø
James shut off the ear stud
He├óÔé¼Ôäód been very bitter when he declared he├óÔé¼Ôäód been called up. Was he meant to? Should he be angry or resentful? The Inquisition were famous galaxy-wide. The saviours of the Terran Colonial Authority. The one thing nearly all kids wanted to do was join the Inquisition. He himself knew that he had liked them, but now he knew he liked them they protected him. Now, he├óÔé¼Ôäód been snatched up off the ground and told he would be working with someone who sounded like some sort of arrogant and impatient fool. It was like being slapped in the face. All the myths, legends, books and films that showed the Investigator as a glorious and honourable hero turned on it├óÔé¼Ôäós head. James hoped this Adams would be a one-off. He went to his car, to catch a monorail.
As the car drove, James set about sorting out his thoughts. He did like the Inquisition, and to be truthful, he was honoured to be working with them. His bitterness had stemmed from recent events in his life ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ events that had no bearing on the Inquisition wanted of him. He wondered what it was this Investigator Adams wanted with him. And why had he been so... so... nervous leaving the board room? What the hell had that been about?
***
├óÔé¼┼ôWhere is the bastard?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones asked tersely.
├óÔé¼┼ôHe├óÔé¼Ôäóll be here.├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson replied, though it sounded like he was no longer believing it
├óÔé¼┼ôOh, I know that, but do we have to stand out in the cold waiting for him?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones snapped.
├óÔé¼┼ôYou know we couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót stay in the ship. We├óÔé¼Ôäód get busted for wasting fuel keeping it warm.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôIt would keep the wind out!├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones argued
├óÔé¼┼ôDidn├óÔé¼Ôäót you get fined a few hundred for the last time you tried that?├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson asked innocently
├óÔé¼┼ôOh fine├óÔé¼┬Ø
The two pilots were sat shivering on deckchairs under the wing of their shuttlecraft, watching the rain fall. Their flight suits were too thin to keep the wind out, and had proved much too adept at absorbing lots of cold, cold rain. They were on platform nine with the puny little shuttlecraft the Inquisition had handed them, at the Towii main spaceport. It was a rather backwards one really. And it was raining too. Lots.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhen was he supposed to arrive?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôUh, today, I think├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson said, trying to remember
├óÔé¼┼ôYou don├óÔé¼Ôäót know?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones asked incredulously, leaning forward
├óÔé¼┼ôHe didn├óÔé¼Ôäót say├óÔé¼┬Ø
Jones snorted and flopped back into his seat. Ground-bound people never really cared much for promptness.
├óÔé¼┼ôAny idea what the little bastard looks like?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôHaven├óÔé¼Ôäót a clue├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôGreat.├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones said, waving his hands in annoyance ├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóm off for a caffeine├óÔé¼┬Ø He got out of his chair, wrapped his coat about himself to ward off the cold and rain and walked off
├óÔé¼┼ôDon├óÔé¼Ôäót get me one. That stuff tastes like crap├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson shouted after him, shuffling deeper in his chair slightly, trying to get some sleep. ├óÔé¼┼ôImpatient bastard├óÔé¼┬Ø he muttered.
***
The mansion was in a bad state; burned, battered and bruised with the local rioting. Yet it was still standing, whilst similar upper-class housing for miles around had been burnt to the ground. And the mansion was still in the possession of it├óÔé¼Ôäós original owner. For this reason, the two men, wearing large long-coats to ward against the rain, had come here. The armed guards let them pass. Annoying members of the Inquisition was generally a bad idea.
The two men walked up the steps to the main entrance, which was fortunately sheltered against the snow by a balcony above. Two women were waiting for them. One was in a black and blue two-piece and looked like a local, the other wore the same uniform as the guards and had the rugged look of a fighter. She had pale grey hair cut short above the shoulder. She was also tanned, something impossible to get on this cold rock.
Once under the protection of the balcony, the two men lowered their hoods. One had long dark-blonde hair. The other was much older, balding with iron-grey hair. His face was chiselled, wrinkled and scarred. The blonde├óÔé¼Ôäós face looked relatively unharmed. Both looked emotionless. The woman in black and blue walked forwards, offering a hand with neither of the two men took.
├óÔé¼┼ôLady Montoya will be here shortly. I am afraid she has a lot of work to be doing at this time├óÔé¼┬Ø She said.
├óÔé¼┼ôRest assured ma├óÔé¼Ôäóam, we have no wish to waste any more of Miss Montoya├óÔé¼Ôäós time than we have to.├óÔé¼┬Ø
The woman in black and blue looked slightly startled, whilst the militaristic one merely gave a slight grin.
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóm Lady Donnel.├óÔé¼┬Ø The woman in black and blue said, ├óÔé¼┼ôThis Luciana Taylor, our head of security├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôInvestigator Galligan Adams├óÔé¼┬Ø The grey-haired man said
├óÔé¼┼ôInterrogator Sam Anders├óÔé¼┬Ø Said the blonde haired one.
Again no hands were shaken.
├óÔé¼┼ôWould you follow me please?├óÔé¼┬Ø Lady Donnel asked, opening the doors and gesturing into a foyer. Investigator Adams nodded.
├óÔé¼┼ôIf I am to follow you, you must be ahead of me. Ladies first├óÔé¼┬Ø
Lady Donnel was again caught off guard. She seemed very nervous. Miss Taylor, however, grinned again, looking perfectly calm. Definitely not from this system.
Lady Donnel entered the foyer, followed by Inspector Adams and Int. Anders. Miss Taylor took up the rear.
================
PRODUCTION NOTES
This bit's pretty much final. I've also given James a personality! He really wasn't much in the previous two versions, was he?
Hope how I call him James instead of Calliger (James is his first name) doesn't confuse too many people. Not that many people read this or anything
EDIT: Fixed a slight accident with BBCode and the chapter one heading.
EDIT: Fixed another mistake, this time in the message bit
-
Guessmyname
- Posts: 3301
- Joined: 28 Apr 2005, 21:07
├óÔé¼┼ôI brought you a caffeine├óÔé¼┬Ø Said Jones, returning with two plastic cups, to find Sanderson asleep in his chair. Jones just shrugged.
├óÔé¼┼ôMore for me├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, taking a glug.
He sighed contentedly after finishing the cup, before throwing it at the nearby garage can. The cup was blown aside by the wind, landing on the platform, and Jones cursed at it doing so. Bringing his coat about him, he braved the rain and kicked the cup into the bin. Couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót risk it getting sucked into the engine on take-off.
He ran back to his seat, and, dripping, sat down and went back to staring out at the rain, cursing the Towii climate.
James arrived at the Tenowan spaceport. He checked his private dataslate to find the right platform and went to the nearest lift, stopping only to buy a cheap umbrella from an auto-kiosk. He ascended the lift and, upon exiting it, opened up the umbrella, which promptly blew away in the wind.
├óÔé¼┼ôWoah!├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones exclaimed, nearly falling off his chair and something black wizzed past
├óÔé¼┼ôHuh, what?├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson asked, waking up suddenly.
├óÔé¼┼ôI think I just got attacked by a low-flying umbrella.├óÔé¼┬Ø He replied.
├óÔé¼┼ôHumph├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson muttered, going back to sleep
James climbed the stairs, cursing the damn umbrella. The platforms were swept with wind and rain, reducing visibility by quite a lot. He checked the dataslate again, keeping a firm grip on it so that that didn├óÔé¼Ôäót blow away too. The ship he was after was on platform nine. He had to peer at the signs to see which was which ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ he was at platform one. He walked on gingerly, not wanting to slip on the wet metal, checking each signpost as he did so.
├óÔé¼┼ôWakey, wakey Craig, someone├óÔé¼Ôäós coming!├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones said, elbowing Sanderson in the side
├óÔé¼┼ôWah...?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWake up! Calliger├óÔé¼Ôäós arrived├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôYay.├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson said, disgruntled, digging into the chair once more
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóll warm the ship up├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones said, leaving his seat
├óÔé¼┼ôYou do that├óÔé¼┬Ø
James finally found platform nine. The shuttlecraft was white, semi-silhouetted against the dungy sky. A pair of deck chairs were being collected by the ship├óÔé¼Ôäós pilot. The guy looked tired. He walked up to the ship. The pilot looked up as he stuffed the chairs in a slide-out compartment. He opened the hatch and jerked his head at it, telling him to enter the ship without saying anything. The pilot then began removing the holding cables. James entered an airlock, which didn├óÔé¼Ôäót do anything because of the atmosphere, and entered the bulk of the ship. It was a mass of metal plating, wires and pipes. The floor did have a carpet, but it looked like it hadn├óÔé¼Ôäót been cleaned for some time. He noticed the two pilot seats and hoped he wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót be co-piloting. He hadn├óÔé¼Ôäót flown for decades.
├óÔé¼┼ôHello there. What kept you?├óÔé¼┬Ø
It was another pilot. He wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót have to dig up the days of flying commercial ships.
├óÔé¼┼ôThe Monorail. Missed the train├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWell done.├óÔé¼┬Ø The new pilot said sarcastically ├óÔé¼┼ôYou nearly missed us too.├óÔé¼┬Ø
The airlock door shut behind him and the first pilot he had met brushed past him.
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóm Jones, the second one said, ├óÔé¼┼ôThat├óÔé¼Ôäós Sanderson├óÔé¼┬Ø
James took and shook the offered hand. ├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóm James Calliger├óÔé¼┬Ø
***
They entered the main hall. The roof had collapsed, and the floor was covered in splintered wood and bits of the local concrete and a thick layer of snow. A pathway had been cleared grim interest. Miss Taylor, Anders noticed, was also watching the workers, and Adams, with a mixture of surprise and concern. To employ low-paid workers to repair a house of the rich was asking for trouble this deep in NCLF territory. The thought of a mass horde of torch-and-shotgun NCLF supporters was obviously on Taylor├óÔé¼Ôäós mind.
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóm sorry about the mess├óÔé¼┬Ø Lady Donnel said, hastily adding ├óÔé¼┼ôThose NCLF bastards├óÔé¼┬Ø
The word ├óÔé¼╦£bastards├óÔé¼Ôäó just didn├óÔé¼Ôäót come out right in her voice.
├óÔé¼┼ôFortunately you have security here Lady Donnel├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams probed
├óÔé¼┼ôOh, yes, fortunately we do├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWe only arrived yesterday├óÔé¼┬Ø Taylor added.
├óÔé¼┼ôSo did we├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders replied, noting how Miss Taylor was watching Lady Donnel with suspicion.
So the security here were off worlders? Adams thought. That├óÔé¼Ôäós promising.
├óÔé¼┼ôPlease take a seat,├óÔé¼┬Ø Lady Donnel said, gesturing to some seats outside two large, sturdy-looking wooden doors ├óÔé¼┼ôLady Montoya will be here shortly├óÔé¼┬Ø
She hurried off. The two men took their seats. Miss Taylor, with nothing else to do, joined them.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhen did you arrive?├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders asked
├óÔé¼┼ôTwo weeks ago. We were forced to stay after the snow took the spaceports out of service. The phrase is ├óÔé¼╦£Snowed-In├óÔé¼Ôäó I believe├óÔé¼┬Ø
Anders grunted ├óÔé¼┼ôShitty weather├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôQuite├óÔé¼┬Ø Miss Taylor leaned back and stretched.
Adams watch beeped. He took a small injector pistol out, put it to his neck and injected himself with a blue fluid. Both Miss Taylor and Anders completely ignored the event, Anders being used to it and Taylor knowing why he did it and despising him for it.
Adams relaxed and felt it seep through his veins and through into his brain. There it slowly went into effect upon the parts of the brain that called emotion into action and suppressed them, turning them dormant. Cold rationality filled his mind. He would need it.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhy├óÔé¼Ôäód you take it?├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders asked, spotting the flare of hatred in Miss Taylor├óÔé¼Ôäós eye when she saw Adams├óÔé¼Ôäó Injector.
Taylor thought for a moment that he├óÔé¼Ôäód just asked the Investigator why he├óÔé¼Ôäód injected himself with damnable emotion suppresser drug. Then he noticed he was looking at her cautiously. Am I really that transparent? She wondered. Maybe the myths about the Investigators being mind readers were true, but then, this was not an Investigator.
├óÔé¼┼ôThe job?├óÔé¼┬Ø Miss Taylor, looking away from the mark on Adams├óÔé¼Ôäó neck ├óÔé¼┼ôWe took it because we needed something to do. This ├óÔé¼╦£Lady Montoya├óÔé¼Ôäó practically leaped for joy when we turned up. They couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót wait to give us the contract. I don├óÔé¼Ôäót think they were expecting professionals.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat do you know about this lot?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôLady Montoya? From first appearances, she seems both lucky and stupid.├óÔé¼┬Ø Taylor said, trying to sort out her own opinions of the woman, ├óÔé¼┼ôLucky because her house is still standing and she hasn├óÔé¼Ôäót been lynched by the NCLF yet.├óÔé¼┬Ø It suddenly occurred to her that something more than luck was a factor here. Could she be bribing the NCLF leaders? This thought caused her to stop and think.
She├óÔé¼Ôäós a clever one. Adams thought, watching her closely.
Taylor went back to her little speech. Now what was not the time to think of such things. ├óÔé¼┼ôStupid because she still uses her title and she├óÔé¼Ôäós employed the unemployed to repair the place ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ did you see them? She├óÔé¼Ôäós either got a lot of balls or a lot of empty space between her ears.├óÔé¼┬Ø And ladies rarely became ladies if they were foolish or stupid, Taylor thought grimly. ├óÔé¼┼ôThe NCLF will turn up with torches and shotguns any day now. I├óÔé¼Ôäóm beginning to regret taking the contract├óÔé¼┬Ø
Better and better Adams thought from his chair. ├óÔé¼┼ôSo you think the NCLF simply haven├óÔé¼Ôäót noticed her yet?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWell, this place is on a big mountain.├óÔé¼┬Ø Taylor observed doubtfully
├óÔé¼┼ôWhich makes it very obvious.├óÔé¼┬Ø Said Inspector Adams, leaning forwards. ├óÔé¼┼ôAnd judging from the damage to the place, I think the NCLF did notice. No, there├óÔé¼Ôäós something else at work here.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôShe├óÔé¼Ôäós either collaborating ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ not sure how that could work really ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ or she├óÔé¼Ôäós bribing them├óÔé¼┬Ø Taylor concluded.
├óÔé¼┼ôI would consider giving them bribes collaboration.├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams said.
Taylor raised a wary eyebrow ├óÔé¼┼ôThat├óÔé¼Ôäós a little harsh├óÔé¼┬ª├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôIf she dropped her title she could easily live in peace. But she hasn├óÔé¼Ôäót, and she lives. The matter requires investigation├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams stated coldly
├óÔé¼┼ôI take it you├óÔé¼Ôäóre a loyalist then?├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders asked, trying to change the subject - something both Taylor and Adams noticed. Taylor nodded
Good. Adams thought, Montoya├óÔé¼Ôäós security force are loyalists.
***
Stephen Lewis slid into his chair with the grace of youth, despite being over 200. Once an Investigator, always an Investigator. There was no choice in the matter ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ implants were a permanent affair. But all the grace (and implants) in the world couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót save him from the current problem. Well, maybe all the implants could, if sold. As the Head Directive of the Inquisition, he was responsible for running the whole organisation, and didn├óÔé¼Ôäót particularly enjoy it. He wanted to out in the field, hunting the NCLF bastards down, but instead he had ended up at a desk.
It was quite a nice desk ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ mahogany oak-wood, possibly the rarest to be found ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ with full radio and tac-con communication suite, a built in keyboard and monitor and even a small laser turret. The seat too was well made, and his office overlooked the Terran Main City. Across a few blocks was the TCA government tower, and behind that was the TLA├óÔé¼Ôäós primary HQ / Fortress. Helicopters and inter-planetary craft flew past as the sun began to go behind the skyscraper horizon. It was a nice office, but it was monotonous ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ the same work every day. The same request for more funds that was always denied. However, this time he had a new weapon to bring forward in the argument: Tollith, and it├óÔé¼Ôäós science and weapons labs, had fallen to the NCLF. Chancellor Alckright could not ignore that.
├óÔé¼┼ôMore for me├óÔé¼┬Ø he said, taking a glug.
He sighed contentedly after finishing the cup, before throwing it at the nearby garage can. The cup was blown aside by the wind, landing on the platform, and Jones cursed at it doing so. Bringing his coat about him, he braved the rain and kicked the cup into the bin. Couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót risk it getting sucked into the engine on take-off.
He ran back to his seat, and, dripping, sat down and went back to staring out at the rain, cursing the Towii climate.
James arrived at the Tenowan spaceport. He checked his private dataslate to find the right platform and went to the nearest lift, stopping only to buy a cheap umbrella from an auto-kiosk. He ascended the lift and, upon exiting it, opened up the umbrella, which promptly blew away in the wind.
├óÔé¼┼ôWoah!├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones exclaimed, nearly falling off his chair and something black wizzed past
├óÔé¼┼ôHuh, what?├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson asked, waking up suddenly.
├óÔé¼┼ôI think I just got attacked by a low-flying umbrella.├óÔé¼┬Ø He replied.
├óÔé¼┼ôHumph├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson muttered, going back to sleep
James climbed the stairs, cursing the damn umbrella. The platforms were swept with wind and rain, reducing visibility by quite a lot. He checked the dataslate again, keeping a firm grip on it so that that didn├óÔé¼Ôäót blow away too. The ship he was after was on platform nine. He had to peer at the signs to see which was which ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ he was at platform one. He walked on gingerly, not wanting to slip on the wet metal, checking each signpost as he did so.
├óÔé¼┼ôWakey, wakey Craig, someone├óÔé¼Ôäós coming!├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones said, elbowing Sanderson in the side
├óÔé¼┼ôWah...?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWake up! Calliger├óÔé¼Ôäós arrived├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôYay.├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson said, disgruntled, digging into the chair once more
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóll warm the ship up├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones said, leaving his seat
├óÔé¼┼ôYou do that├óÔé¼┬Ø
James finally found platform nine. The shuttlecraft was white, semi-silhouetted against the dungy sky. A pair of deck chairs were being collected by the ship├óÔé¼Ôäós pilot. The guy looked tired. He walked up to the ship. The pilot looked up as he stuffed the chairs in a slide-out compartment. He opened the hatch and jerked his head at it, telling him to enter the ship without saying anything. The pilot then began removing the holding cables. James entered an airlock, which didn├óÔé¼Ôäót do anything because of the atmosphere, and entered the bulk of the ship. It was a mass of metal plating, wires and pipes. The floor did have a carpet, but it looked like it hadn├óÔé¼Ôäót been cleaned for some time. He noticed the two pilot seats and hoped he wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót be co-piloting. He hadn├óÔé¼Ôäót flown for decades.
├óÔé¼┼ôHello there. What kept you?├óÔé¼┬Ø
It was another pilot. He wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót have to dig up the days of flying commercial ships.
├óÔé¼┼ôThe Monorail. Missed the train├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWell done.├óÔé¼┬Ø The new pilot said sarcastically ├óÔé¼┼ôYou nearly missed us too.├óÔé¼┬Ø
The airlock door shut behind him and the first pilot he had met brushed past him.
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóm Jones, the second one said, ├óÔé¼┼ôThat├óÔé¼Ôäós Sanderson├óÔé¼┬Ø
James took and shook the offered hand. ├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóm James Calliger├óÔé¼┬Ø
***
They entered the main hall. The roof had collapsed, and the floor was covered in splintered wood and bits of the local concrete and a thick layer of snow. A pathway had been cleared grim interest. Miss Taylor, Anders noticed, was also watching the workers, and Adams, with a mixture of surprise and concern. To employ low-paid workers to repair a house of the rich was asking for trouble this deep in NCLF territory. The thought of a mass horde of torch-and-shotgun NCLF supporters was obviously on Taylor├óÔé¼Ôäós mind.
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóm sorry about the mess├óÔé¼┬Ø Lady Donnel said, hastily adding ├óÔé¼┼ôThose NCLF bastards├óÔé¼┬Ø
The word ├óÔé¼╦£bastards├óÔé¼Ôäó just didn├óÔé¼Ôäót come out right in her voice.
├óÔé¼┼ôFortunately you have security here Lady Donnel├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams probed
├óÔé¼┼ôOh, yes, fortunately we do├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWe only arrived yesterday├óÔé¼┬Ø Taylor added.
├óÔé¼┼ôSo did we├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders replied, noting how Miss Taylor was watching Lady Donnel with suspicion.
So the security here were off worlders? Adams thought. That├óÔé¼Ôäós promising.
├óÔé¼┼ôPlease take a seat,├óÔé¼┬Ø Lady Donnel said, gesturing to some seats outside two large, sturdy-looking wooden doors ├óÔé¼┼ôLady Montoya will be here shortly├óÔé¼┬Ø
She hurried off. The two men took their seats. Miss Taylor, with nothing else to do, joined them.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhen did you arrive?├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders asked
├óÔé¼┼ôTwo weeks ago. We were forced to stay after the snow took the spaceports out of service. The phrase is ├óÔé¼╦£Snowed-In├óÔé¼Ôäó I believe├óÔé¼┬Ø
Anders grunted ├óÔé¼┼ôShitty weather├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôQuite├óÔé¼┬Ø Miss Taylor leaned back and stretched.
Adams watch beeped. He took a small injector pistol out, put it to his neck and injected himself with a blue fluid. Both Miss Taylor and Anders completely ignored the event, Anders being used to it and Taylor knowing why he did it and despising him for it.
Adams relaxed and felt it seep through his veins and through into his brain. There it slowly went into effect upon the parts of the brain that called emotion into action and suppressed them, turning them dormant. Cold rationality filled his mind. He would need it.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhy├óÔé¼Ôäód you take it?├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders asked, spotting the flare of hatred in Miss Taylor├óÔé¼Ôäós eye when she saw Adams├óÔé¼Ôäó Injector.
Taylor thought for a moment that he├óÔé¼Ôäód just asked the Investigator why he├óÔé¼Ôäód injected himself with damnable emotion suppresser drug. Then he noticed he was looking at her cautiously. Am I really that transparent? She wondered. Maybe the myths about the Investigators being mind readers were true, but then, this was not an Investigator.
├óÔé¼┼ôThe job?├óÔé¼┬Ø Miss Taylor, looking away from the mark on Adams├óÔé¼Ôäó neck ├óÔé¼┼ôWe took it because we needed something to do. This ├óÔé¼╦£Lady Montoya├óÔé¼Ôäó practically leaped for joy when we turned up. They couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót wait to give us the contract. I don├óÔé¼Ôäót think they were expecting professionals.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat do you know about this lot?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôLady Montoya? From first appearances, she seems both lucky and stupid.├óÔé¼┬Ø Taylor said, trying to sort out her own opinions of the woman, ├óÔé¼┼ôLucky because her house is still standing and she hasn├óÔé¼Ôäót been lynched by the NCLF yet.├óÔé¼┬Ø It suddenly occurred to her that something more than luck was a factor here. Could she be bribing the NCLF leaders? This thought caused her to stop and think.
She├óÔé¼Ôäós a clever one. Adams thought, watching her closely.
Taylor went back to her little speech. Now what was not the time to think of such things. ├óÔé¼┼ôStupid because she still uses her title and she├óÔé¼Ôäós employed the unemployed to repair the place ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ did you see them? She├óÔé¼Ôäós either got a lot of balls or a lot of empty space between her ears.├óÔé¼┬Ø And ladies rarely became ladies if they were foolish or stupid, Taylor thought grimly. ├óÔé¼┼ôThe NCLF will turn up with torches and shotguns any day now. I├óÔé¼Ôäóm beginning to regret taking the contract├óÔé¼┬Ø
Better and better Adams thought from his chair. ├óÔé¼┼ôSo you think the NCLF simply haven├óÔé¼Ôäót noticed her yet?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWell, this place is on a big mountain.├óÔé¼┬Ø Taylor observed doubtfully
├óÔé¼┼ôWhich makes it very obvious.├óÔé¼┬Ø Said Inspector Adams, leaning forwards. ├óÔé¼┼ôAnd judging from the damage to the place, I think the NCLF did notice. No, there├óÔé¼Ôäós something else at work here.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôShe├óÔé¼Ôäós either collaborating ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ not sure how that could work really ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ or she├óÔé¼Ôäós bribing them├óÔé¼┬Ø Taylor concluded.
├óÔé¼┼ôI would consider giving them bribes collaboration.├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams said.
Taylor raised a wary eyebrow ├óÔé¼┼ôThat├óÔé¼Ôäós a little harsh├óÔé¼┬ª├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôIf she dropped her title she could easily live in peace. But she hasn├óÔé¼Ôäót, and she lives. The matter requires investigation├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams stated coldly
├óÔé¼┼ôI take it you├óÔé¼Ôäóre a loyalist then?├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders asked, trying to change the subject - something both Taylor and Adams noticed. Taylor nodded
Good. Adams thought, Montoya├óÔé¼Ôäós security force are loyalists.
***
Stephen Lewis slid into his chair with the grace of youth, despite being over 200. Once an Investigator, always an Investigator. There was no choice in the matter ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ implants were a permanent affair. But all the grace (and implants) in the world couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót save him from the current problem. Well, maybe all the implants could, if sold. As the Head Directive of the Inquisition, he was responsible for running the whole organisation, and didn├óÔé¼Ôäót particularly enjoy it. He wanted to out in the field, hunting the NCLF bastards down, but instead he had ended up at a desk.
It was quite a nice desk ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ mahogany oak-wood, possibly the rarest to be found ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ with full radio and tac-con communication suite, a built in keyboard and monitor and even a small laser turret. The seat too was well made, and his office overlooked the Terran Main City. Across a few blocks was the TCA government tower, and behind that was the TLA├óÔé¼Ôäós primary HQ / Fortress. Helicopters and inter-planetary craft flew past as the sun began to go behind the skyscraper horizon. It was a nice office, but it was monotonous ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ the same work every day. The same request for more funds that was always denied. However, this time he had a new weapon to bring forward in the argument: Tollith, and it├óÔé¼Ôäós science and weapons labs, had fallen to the NCLF. Chancellor Alckright could not ignore that.
-
Guessmyname
- Posts: 3301
- Joined: 28 Apr 2005, 21:07
Damnit, I can believe I let this slide onto the second page. And with the heat-wave, my graphic's card tends to overheat, rendering nearly all my games (inc. Spring) unplayable because they just shut down after about 10 - 20 minutes. Meaning I have lots of time for writing
I've also started doing hand-drawn comics. I'll some up when I get around to sorting Forsaken and ID out
Oh and I've been reading Dune and the Eisenhorn series again. Inspiration-me-do!
Anyhoo...
Lady Montoya was watching the conversation on the monitors.
├óÔé¼┼ôOh, shit├óÔé¼┬Ø she muttered. She threw open a ceiling hatch and ascended into the attic. The place was full of boxes, and also people. The two men lowered their weapons. The others simply watched.
├óÔé¼┼ôLizzy!├óÔé¼┬Ø One of them called, running up to her. They enjoyed a brief embrace.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat├óÔé¼Ôäós wrong?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôLots of things, Ian.├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya sighed. This probably wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót going to work. ├óÔé¼┼ôListen to me, very carefully.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Montoya├óÔé¼Ôäós shoes clicked as she went down the stairs as fast as she could. She slipped into her office. Lady Donnel was there, looking scared out of her wits.
├óÔé¼┼ôAmanda,├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya said. walking over to her ├óÔé¼┼ôthank you.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat for?├óÔé¼┬Ø Donnel asked, confused
├óÔé¼┼ôFor everything├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya sighed and swiped a bead of sweat from her brow.
├óÔé¼┼ôI know you don├óÔé¼Ôäót support the NCLF, so do this for me. Get out of here.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóm sorry?├óÔé¼┬Ø Donnel asked, still not understanding
├óÔé¼┼ôRun. Get off this planet and start over. You├óÔé¼Ôäóre a good person. You├óÔé¼Ôäóll go far.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat about you and Ian?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôIf we can, we├óÔé¼Ôäóll escape and go into hiding.├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya gulped. ├óÔé¼┼ôLady Donnel? Let the Investigator in.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Lady Donnel poked her head around the study door again.
├óÔé¼┼ôLady Montoya will be here in a moment├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôOkay├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams said pleasantly
Lady Donnel disappeared. A poor girl, that Donnel. It was quite clear that she was in over her head. Whether or not she was a collaborator or was working here because she knew she wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót live very long outside the mansion was, however, harder to tell. If she wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót working here out of choice she might live.
├óÔé¼┼ôTaylor,├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders whispered ├óÔé¼┼ôget your team ready├óÔé¼┬Ø
Taylor nodded and slipped away.
├óÔé¼┼ôAnders,├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams whispered ├óÔé¼┼ôYou get out too. Find out as much as you can about this mansion├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat about Montoya?├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders whispered back
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóll deal with her. Go├óÔé¼┬Ø
Anders nodded and walked off as well.
Elizabeth Montoya zipped her suit up at the back. It was grey and green and surprisingly comfortable. All exits were shut tight, trapping a layer of air between her and the suit, a layer which would get warmer from body heat and provide a layer of insulation against the outdoor cold. Which was good ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ Montoya knew she would probably have to get outside. Fast. Their professional security team turned out to be a little too smart, and much too loyal to the Terran Colonial Authority. Damn Offworlders. Ian and his men were set up and ready. They could possibly hold the mansion ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ The Investigator didn├óÔé¼Ôäót know about Ian. Yes, it would work. She brushed her hair ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ as a Lady she nearly always needed to look presentable ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ and she stood, checking herself in the mirror. She slipped a pistol into a side pocket and, using the mirror, checked to see if it was visible. It wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót. Perfect. She nodded to Lady Donnel
├óÔé¼┼ôLady Montoya ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ ├óÔé¼┬Ø Lady Donnel stopped short when she noticed that Anders and Taylor were missing ├óÔé¼┼ôLady Montoya will see you now├óÔé¼┬Ø She opened the door and held it for him. He nodded to her in thanks and entered. The door closed of it├óÔé¼Ôäós own accord and Lady Donnel ran away as fast as she could, her shoes clicking on the polished stone floor.
Lady Elizabeth Montoya stood still in wait, her was face an unreadable mask, but her left hand quivering over a pocket. She was scared, and both knew it.
***
├óÔé¼┼ôNow, whilst this thing can go into outer-space, it was primarily designed for travelling around on the same planet, without passing through the atmosphere ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ it wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót build for zero-gee / micro-gravity. So we need to strap in lest we bump into something we shouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót, okay?├óÔé¼┬Ø
James nodded. Micro-gravity? That didn├óÔé¼Ôäót sound good. Jones slipped easily into his seat and clipped in. Sanderson clipped in a rather numb James before taking his seat.
├óÔé¼┼ôMicro Gravity?├óÔé¼┬Ø James asked
├óÔé¼┼ôYes. Micro Gravity.├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones answered, turning around in his seat to look at James. That├óÔé¼Ôäós were he saw the look on his face ├óÔé¼┼ôIt├óÔé¼Ôäós still gravity, there├óÔé¼Ôäós just a lot less of it than we get normally.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôEspecially on something this big├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson added
├óÔé¼┼ôGreat├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôNow what?├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson asked to Jones. Jones took a clipboard off the wall it had been attached to by magnets
├óÔé¼┼ôEngines at running temperature...├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones began, reading through the list
├óÔé¼┼ôCheck├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson replied, checking instruments
├óÔé¼┼ôBrake engines clear...├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôCheck├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôTow cable taut...├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôCheck├óÔé¼┬Ø
***
├óÔé¼┼ôMiss Montoya├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôLady.├óÔé¼┬Ø Elizabeth corrected ├óÔé¼┼ôInvestigator Adams├óÔé¼┬Ø
No hands were offered and consequently none were shaken.
├óÔé¼┼ôMay I inquire as to why you are here?├óÔé¼┬Ø She asked
├óÔé¼┼ôNo.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôCome now Investigator, One cannot merely enter someone├óÔé¼Ôäós abode and not provide a reason for doing so, can they?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThe reason is in the name├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóm sorry...?├óÔé¼┬Ø Elizabeth replied, confused
├óÔé¼┼ôI am an Investigator, and you ask me why I have come├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôAh.├óÔé¼┬Ø She caught on ├óÔé¼┼ôI am suspect├óÔé¼┬Ø She drew herself to her full height, about a head above Adams, but Adams still looked the most imposing.
├óÔé¼┼ôYes. You are.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWell. What do you want to know?├óÔé¼┬Ø
***
├óÔé¼┼ôFuel Cells locked...├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôCheck├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôFuel Cells full...├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôUh, I├óÔé¼Ôäóll check├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôBatteries charged...├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôNo, I mean I├óÔé¼Ôäóll have to check├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThe Batteries or the Fuel?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôLatter├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôOh, sorry.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôNo problem├óÔé¼┬Ø
***
├óÔé¼┼ôYour mansion is deep within NCLF territory, but still standing. Why?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Montoya tried to reply but Adams didn├óÔé¼Ôäót give her the chance, advancing menacingly.
├óÔé¼┼ôYou have low paid workers but live a life of luxury, and the NCLF haven├óÔé¼Ôäót hanged you yet. Why? You employ a security team on the day you learn of my visit. Why? And most important of all, Miss Montoya, is...├óÔé¼┬Ø
**
├óÔé¼┼ôYeah, they├óÔé¼Ôäóre full├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôExcellent. Batteries charged...├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôCheck├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôAnd... NEO shields up├óÔé¼┬Ø ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ the ├óÔé¼╦£NEO shields├óÔé¼Ôäó, or Near-Engine-Objects shields were basically large walls that popped up around the side lines of the launch pad, preventing anything getting on the platform that shouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót. With the shuttle clamped down, the pad rotated. The shuttle├óÔé¼Ôäós nose was pointed to the sky and anything on the platform would have fallen into the launch pit so that they couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót get sucked into the engines.
├óÔé¼┼ôThat├óÔé¼Ôäós the other reason we need to be strapped in├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones said to James, whose face had turned sickly green
├óÔé¼┼ôActivating Secondary Sequence.├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson said. At the flip of a switch, the giant turbofans welded to the sides spun into life and the ship began pulling at the clamps.
├óÔé¼┼ôActivating Primary Sequence.├óÔé¼┬Ø
The primary sequence was more complicated than the secondary ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ it required precision timing that only a computer could achieve. The engines warmed up, the clamps disengaged and the rockets fired, propelling the craft up, up and away.
*
├óÔé¼┼ôWhy do you have a gun in your left hand pocket?├óÔé¼┬Ø
The ship rose atop a pillar of smoke and flame
Adams├óÔé¼Ôäó quick remark threw Montoya off balance, and Adams kicked the legs out from under her.
├óÔé¼┼ôWe├óÔé¼Ôäóre hot!├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones shouted to Anders over the noise
Adams raised a gun to her head. ├óÔé¼┼ôElizabeth Montoya,├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôHold on to your harnesses!├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones called out to no-one in particular as the ship rocketed upwards
├óÔé¼┼ôYou are hereby under arrest├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWheeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôBy order of the Imperial Inquisition├óÔé¼┬Ø
The roar of the engines gradually began to diminish
├óÔé¼┼ôWe├óÔé¼Ôäóre leaving the atmosphere!├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson called out.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhoooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôStop that!├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson asked, annoyed at the distraction
├óÔé¼┼ôPhweeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones continued
├óÔé¼┼ôFucking idiot├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson muttered
***
├óÔé¼┼ôOpen fire!├óÔé¼┬Ø came a male voice from the upper levels, and bullets thudded into the walls and floor, but Adams was no longer there.
The basic Imperial Inquisitorial Investigator had a lot of implants, bioengineering and could only reach the rank of Investigator at the behest of another Investigator. That meant that the basic Imperial Inquisitorial Investigator had to be pretty damn skilled, and be pretty damned skilled without the aid of nanotechnology.
So imagine how quick, fast and down-right deadly a Lord Investigator with at least seven decades under his belt must be.
Adams had scooted behind a pillar as soon as voice sounded.
├óÔé¼┼ôLizzy, go!├óÔé¼┬Ø
Montoya scrambled to her feet and began to run, pulling out the pistol as she did so. She felt her heart hammer in her chest. It felt like the only thing that stopped it bursting forth was the insulation suit. Her feet pounded the floor as she ran, and she realised the folly of keeping the stone well polished. It was walking on ice. And she was wearing high-heels.
The rat-at-at-at of Ian├óÔé¼Ôäós men├óÔé¼Ôäós weapons raised her spirits. That damnable Investigator couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót give chase, and that equally damnable Taylor and her force were nowhere to be seen. She would live! She could flee the system and the reach of the TCA! She could live in exile with Ian├óÔé¼Ôäós friends! She wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót die! She would ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£
Adams raised his gun (being mindful to keep it behind the cover of the now crumbling pillar he was using as cover) and caught her in her side.
The bullet pierced the insulation suit, punched through her pale skin and slit past her stomach, clipping a rib too for good measure. Fortunately for Elizabeth, the bullet didn├óÔé¼Ôäót explode inside her, as it was designed to. It exploded in the wall instead, sending bits of concrete everywhere. Elizabeth fell to the floor, sliding on her own blood and the concrete dust to the door, screaming in agony the entire way until her shoulder rammed against the door she├óÔé¼Ôäód been fleeing for. Her pistol clattered amongst the debris
├óÔé¼┼ôNo!├óÔé¼┬Ø
Ian Keller scrambled down the stairs to reach Elizabeth. That damn Invie had clipped her in the side, and now she writhing in a foetal position by the side door. He scooped up her pistol, pulled her up onto her feet, she threw her arm over his shoulder whilst keeping another on the exit wound and he dragged her off. This complicated things. He fired a (very badly aimed) burst from his carbine into where the Investigator had fired from. He wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót there, and the bullets smashed into the walls. Ian looked up, fear gripping him. That bastard had, in the ensuing confusion slipped up the balcony from which his men where firing down. They were falling messily to the Investigator├óÔé¼Ôäós sword. This complicated things even more. They had to run. Now. If his men could just hold him off... He was alone, a single figure verses a great many. He├óÔé¼Ôäód be delayed at worse. Then Luciana Taylor and her security force burst in and opened fire.
***
The Inquisition, like all other TCA organisations, had a pyramidal vote-in hierarchy. He (Lewis) was the Head Directive, who ran the whole shebang, and he was voted in by the Directors, who controlled operations in their sector ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ Lewis gave them an order to do something, they picked an Investigator in the area and tasked him with it. They also dealt with any requests for personnel or for the aid of Inquisitorial Storm Troopers the Investigators had. They were voted in by the Investigators.
The Storm Troopers ran a bit differently, with those with the best records becoming sergeants and the Storm Troopers as a whole answered to the Directors. The Inquisitorial Spies and their subdivisions did more or less the same. Both the Spies and the Storm Troopers recruited from the TLA and the civilian population.
New Investigators were appointed by existing ones, in a sort of apprenticeship. When an Investigator decided a person could make a good member of the Inquisition they could take them under their wing as an Interrogator. The Interrogator would follow their Investigator around their travels, learning all he needed to know along the way. Once their ├óÔé¼╦£tutor├óÔé¼Ôäó deemed them ready, the Interrogator was instated as an Investigator. They were assigned a sector and off they went.
In the event of their parent Investigator├óÔé¼Ôäós death, the Interrogator would be investigated to find out whether they were responsible. If they were, and they didn├óÔé¼Ôäót have a good reason (defecting Investigators were not unheard of) they were executed. If the judges (made of Investigators, naturally. The Terran Local Law Authority (TLLA) had no say in the running of the Inquisition) felt that the Interrogator was unsuitable they would send him off back into his former position or put him under the wing of another Investigator. If the Interrogator passed the test he was instated as an Investigator, though such instatement├óÔé¼Ôäós were somewhat rare.
But now the system was starting to collapse. There were actually too many Investigators, and whilst the rise of the NCLF had resulted in a higher death rate than ever before, the numbers where getting too many for the Directors to handle. The Inquisition had actually outgrown itself. Investigators had now been forbidden to take Interrogators under their wing (though several had simply requested the aid of suitable, would-be Interrogator, and brought them with them everywhere ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ making them, practically speaking, Interrogators ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ even if they lacked the title). That had stopped the Inquisition getting any bigger. The Spies and the Storm Troopers ran themselves ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ they weren├óÔé¼Ôäót the problem. There were too many Investigators, and whilst their numbers weren├óÔé¼Ôäót growing, there were still too many.
He couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót just fire Investigators ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ they knew too much ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ and to kill one after decades of loyal service because their system had failed them was just... just.. not right! The only way to fix things was to re-organise the sector system, get a load more Directors to spread out the load and request more funds.
All in all, a plan Alckright was sure to disagree with.
***
The mansion, being big and expensive, had it├óÔé¼Ôäós own little rail link to the monorail system. Ian was very grateful that they had left it intact. He dragged her into one of the cars and strapped her in. He pulled a medpack from the cabinet and threw it to her. Then he grabbed for the mansion├óÔé¼Ôäós PA system.
The NCLF rebels fell back, or simply fell, at the onslaught of Taylor├óÔé¼Ôäós security force, who had them out-trained and out-gunned, if not out-numbered. Plasma rifles spewed their deadly payloads with unerring accuracy, burning holes in their chests that were both large and deep. They died messily. The security force had full combat armour, and with all being ex-soldiers in the TLA, they knew exactly what to do and when to do it. The NCLF had, mostly, ex-TLA carbines and for armour they had their ordinary clothes. They died in hordes.
Adams ducked under the clumsy swing of an ice axe. The man who swung it was beheaded with an easy flick of Adam├óÔé¼Ôäós sword. It was a very well-made sword. Two tiny emitters were positioned at the tip and the hilt of the cutting edge, and these emitters generated a laser-beam more than capable of cutting through armour. The sword was designed for cutting. A nearby NCLF turncoat raised his pistol in a rather panicky way and Adams chopped off his hands.
Taylor moved forwards, using the pillars as cover, her eye glued to the gunsights, her finger pressing lightly on the trigger to fire short, controlled bursts.
Adams joined Taylor├óÔé¼Ôäós side as the loudspeakers blared to life
├óÔé¼┼ôAttention all NCLF forces! Fall back to the M-Rail Station! Repeat, retreat to the MRS!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThis place has a monorail?├óÔé¼┬Ø Taylor asked incredulously
├óÔé¼┼ôIt would appear that way.├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams observed calmly.
Ian ran back to Lizzy in her seat. She seemed to have lost consciousness, and Ian began to panic slightly. He snatched up the unopened medical pack, catching her wound in the process. Lizzy groaned and opened her eyes. Then Ian really started panicking.
The two had met before the uprising. He had been a bank clerk, she had been what she was now (A lady, not someone with a gunshot wound). We just, well, fell in together. They had got engaged in the Spring. When Ian had considered joining the NCLF Lizzy had backed him all the way; letting them use the mansion as a base of operations. Of course, the rioters didn├óÔé¼Ôäót know, and so attacked the mansion like they did any other, but the NCLF managed to make them leave without much fuss. They set up camp in the attic and basements, using the lower cells for storage. They even left the damage as a camouflage. Obviously it wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót good enough, and the Imperial Inquisition arranged a visit.
The NCLF presence on Gallim was not nearly enough to be able to withstand the might of the TLA, and with all the local riots they had actually lost a lot of public support. So staying hidden was the plan. As soon as they heard an Investigator would be arriving at the premises in a days├óÔé¼Ôäó time, they quickly threw together a plan. Lizzy hired an offworlder security team, who, being better than the other hireable thugs, they practically jumped at for joy and dressed some of the NCLF members up as workers and set them about clearing up the place so that it appeared that the damage was recent. Unfortunately, it was in vain, and the plan basically collapsed.
The offworlders, being offworlders, were still loyal to the TCA, something they really should have foreseen. And they hadn├óÔé¼Ôäót considered how their own organisation would have reacted to the presence of low-paid ├óÔé¼╦£workers├óÔé¼Ôäó, again something they should have thought of. The whole plan had been a rush-job, and the repercussions were painfully (very painfully) obvious. Elizabeth├óÔé¼Ôäós eyes had gone pearly, unfocused and glassed. She was looking into his eyes and it pained him to looked back into them. They were dulled with pain. Elizabeth spasmed slightly and arched her back. Ian remembered the medical pack, pulled out a pair of painkiller sticks and jabbed them into her arm. Lizzy sighed slightly and her head lolled to one side. He sprinkled an antiseptic and a healing agent (it helped blood clot) on the wound, jabbed in a cloth, ignoring her slight wince, and wrapped a bandage around her midsection. Lizzy raised her head and looked at him again. Her eyes were still clouded. They needed to get her to a medical fast. He kissed her on the forehead and ran to the train controls, firing up the engines to thaw their ice covering. Then he heard gunfire in the entrance corridor.
***
Lewis swore. He was getting angry again. The Linium was gradually becoming less effective on him because of the stress of his job. He was glad he had it: without the emotion-suppressing drug he would quite probably gone mad with the stress. He slipped out his Injector Pistols, inserted the needle into his neck and sent the blue Linium into his veins, where it could travel to the brain. No emotions. That├óÔé¼Ôäós how the members of the Inquisition had to operate (with the exception of the Inquisitorial Spies, who would be very easy unmask if they did use it). No fear. No hatred. No mercy. No distractions.
With emotions, Investigators were inefficient. They could be distracted, unwilling to do their duty. Feeling had no place in their organisation. All Investigators had to take regular doses of the drug. Any found to be ├óÔé¼╦£with emotion├óÔé¼Ôäó were either shot, or if they were lucky, sent back to Interrogator status under the command of another Investigator. Mercy could mean that a criminal would live. Love could distract an Investigator from their mission. Horror, fear and shame could do the same. An Investigator could afford no conscience. A machine, in the past, could outperform a human because machines were not held back by their emotions. Now, neither would the Inquisition.
Lewis placed the Injector Pistol on the table and passed his secretary.
├óÔé¼┼ôPhone please├óÔé¼┬Ø
The secretary nodded, produced a phone ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ Lewis├óÔé¼Ôäós ear stud didn├óÔé¼Ôäót work inside the tower for security reasons ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ and handed it to him. Lewis phoned up Chancellor Alckright. He needed those funds.
***
├óÔé¼┼ôDocking in five, four, three, two, one, we├óÔé¼Ôäóre docked├óÔé¼┬Ø. The shuttlecraft got drawn onto the large holding magnets. Jones unclipped himself and floated gracefully into a side compartment while Sanderson twiddled and flicked a few switches. James had definitely not enjoyed that little trip. The turbulence in exiting the atmosphere nearly made him throw up. A pre-flight snack had been a bad idea. Jones returned bearing spacesuits.
├óÔé¼┼ôHere, put these on.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhere are we?├óÔé¼┬Ø James asked
├óÔé¼┼ôThe Orbital Dock├óÔé¼┬Ø
They suited up in silence, pulling the suits over their ordinary clothes. The suits had several layers, and could protect against extremely low temperatures and radiation, and was of a thick and sturdy enough material to prevent a burst in a vacuum or by being hit / caught on sharp objects. It was the temperature protection that had made Jones get them out. As the shuttle powered down, so did the heaters. Several parts of the ship froze. The only heat was coming from the electricity lines that powered the airlock.
They entered the airlock in silence ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ the suits had no intercom system and the visors muffled everything they tried to say to each other to the point of illegibility. The air was drained back into the tanks and the outer hatch opened into a rubber walkway that had extended out to meet the docking port. The rubber, particularly in the zero-gravity, was nice and bouncy, something Jones made the most of until Sanderson grabbed his leg and forced back down. James moved forwards with care. Every step he took on the spongy, constantly moving floor made him feel even queasier. Jones and Sanderson reached another airlock door, opened it and entered. The airlock was a pure white, with pale blue florescent strips along the edges of the walls. The pair turned and watched James stumble in with impatience. Bloody ground-hogs.
The room repressurised with a hiss. Jones and Sanderson took off their helmets and turned once again on James, who was struggling to take off his helmet. He finally managed it and then noticed their expressions.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø
***
NCLF troops poured onto the monorail train. Lizzy was comatose again and Ian was fiddling with the rail controls. He hadn├óÔé¼Ôäót driven one of these in years. The engines were still warming up and the cabin was still freezing cold. He tried to start the train moving but failed. It just coughed rather pathetically. Ian cursed and ran to the engine room. There he noticed the icicles dangling off the fuel lines that ran across the ceiling from the tank to the engine
├óÔé¼┼ôBloody fuel lines have frozen!├óÔé¼┬Ø he muttered.
The train didn├óÔé¼Ôäót run on petrol, it ran on a strange little concoction that froze at about -10├é┬║C. Ian picked up a portable heater and strapped it onto the fuel line. After a few moments, he tried the engines again. They roared to life and the monorail departed for the Lymbassi Spaceport.
***
├óÔé¼┼ôWelcome, my little boys and girls, to the Towii Orbital Dock!├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones exclaimed.
It wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót that much of a dock really. They had simply entered a corridor, with the same style and lighting of the airlock they├óÔé¼Ôäód just left. Also like the airlock, it had little to no gravity to speak of. The two pilots were at perfect ease with it and were quite happily scooting around like a pair of fish. James however, kept bumping into things and wished the two would slow down. The corridor was semi-circular, like a donut cut in two. The walls covered in doors, most of which had locking devices. Jones and Sanderson appeared to be following the guideposts to the lift. James pushed off towards them, forcing any others to weave out of his way. The space-dwellers had all the grace of underwater fish. James had all the grace of a large stone.
The two pilots had long since reached the ├óÔé¼╦£lift├óÔé¼Ôäó (which basically was a big tube that, after pushing off the pad, you went up until you found the correct floor) and were again waiting for James.
├óÔé¼┼ôCan├óÔé¼Ôäót we just ditch the bitch?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones muttered
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat, and break his little gravity-loving heart?├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson replied with a grin.
James arrived and bounced off the wall. Jones grabbed him by the foot and pulled him into the lift. James, getting fairly used now to zero-gee travel, managed to rotate himself onto his feet. The two pilots had waited for him to orientate himself before pushing off up the lift tube. James felt more like dead weight than ever. Again the wonder at why he, of all people, had been plucked up and thrown into this mess. Oh well. It was better than trying to stop a sinking ship going down.
Jones pushed off the floor of the lift tube, giving himself just enough momentum to go up fast enough to get there quickly, but still be able to stop and slip out the door. James followed behind him, kept in check by Sanderson.
They had arrived at a caf├â┬® via the lift tube. The caf├â┬® was a giant dome, whose walls, after going up about a meter, were glass, looking out upon the Orbital Dock. The Dock had been painted white on purpose ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ if it was painted dark there was a chance that a ship wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót see it, keep moving towards where it thought the dock was and collide. The caf├â┬® dome was the centre of the dock. Extending out of each side were two docking arms and launch platforms. At the end of each arm where railgun batteries of four. Were there wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót a docking arm there were magnetic docks for smaller ships like their own. The docking arms held ships in place with clamp wires and magnets.
There were numerous ships in the dock. Three dock ports were taken up by military repair vessels. They were spewing forth repair drones. The other ships were a mish-mash of big, small; military, corporate, freelance; freighter, cruiseliner, medical. A military Dreadnought limped into the dock, actually drifting sideways with smoke billowing out of numerous holes in it├óÔé¼Ôäós side. The frontal section, with the bridge, control systems and the like had been smashed up completely. Two of the repair ships undocked and brought it carefully into the dock, their drones swarming over it. They were lucky that it wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót going too fast. Numerous other ships ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ part of the Dreadnought├óÔé¼Ôäós escort fleet drifted in as well, several towing others. A pair of frigates were spiralling in what looked to James like artificial Siamese twins ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ one of the frigates, it appeared, had lost control and buried itself in the other frigate├óÔé¼Ôäós side. A carrier with most of it├óÔé¼Ôäós fighter contingent gone, but with the ship itself mostly intact slipped into one of the larger docking ports and got swarmed by repair drones.
The crowd in the caf├â┬® had long since dropped whatever they had been carrying (not that it went anywhere in zero-gee). The entire fleet had been decimated. One frigate, slowly drifting at the back of the column seemed to give up the ghost and exploded. The Dreadnought managed to dock and those in the caf├â┬® immediately pushed off, heading for the dock arm with the Carrier and Dreadnought on. The pilots followed and James sort of climbed along the floor to the exit with his feet floating in the air.
The two pilots pushed off down the tube to the docking arm to meet a sight they were totally unprepared for. Grim and grimy men and women in TFC uniforms, nearly all of them wounded in some way floated listlessly into the corridor (which was, fortunately, quite large) several were pulling severely wounded or dead comrades with them. A men with his lower left arm cut cleanly off had gotten some cable, tied it around his waist and then around the chest of his friend whose legs had been burnt off in a plasma fire and was pulling him along. They were all heading to the medical bay, which (by design) didn├óÔé¼Ôäót require a rather cramped tube to access.
├óÔé¼┼ôGood god├óÔé¼┬Ø said a man next to Jones. Jones spun around and caught the nametag: ├óÔé¼╦£Captain O├óÔé¼ÔäóDay, TCTV Alaskus├óÔé¼┬Ø (TCTV: Terran Colonial Transport Vessel) ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat the hell happened here?├óÔé¼┬Ø
An extremely tired woman whose shoulder pads marked her out as captain changed her course to them. She stopped herself by spinning back slightly, and panted in front of them for a moments, trying to catch her breath. She had shoulder-length brown hair which had been singed black on the left side. There was a deep cut on her cheek.
├óÔé¼┼ôNCLF battle fleet. Came out of nowhere about...├óÔé¼┬Ø she mulled it over ├óÔé¼┼ô...about fifty-odd L-Cees├óÔé¼Ôäó in the direction of Lith.├óÔé¼┬Ø An ├óÔé¼╦£L-Cee├óÔé¼Ôäó was short for ├óÔé¼╦£Large-Celestial├óÔé¼Ôäó ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ which stood for the diameter of Jupiter. There being no Norths or Souths in space, space-goers navigated by planets, usually by computer, leapfrogging to their destination. ├óÔé¼┼ôWe were going to Lydan to help with an Inquisitorial purge. We thought they were the Inquisitorial fleet, but when we came close we realised they were NCLF. We couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót get our shields up in time├óÔé¼┬ª They must have destroyed the Inquisitorial fleet. Imagine that! A bunch of rowdy rebels in tin cans blasting the great Inquisition out of the air! The Battleship went first. They stuffed the bridge full of torpedoes, killing off the captain and all the command crew, not to mention the shield generators. All the smaller, unshielded vessels that usually stayed within their capital├óÔé¼Ôäós shield were destroyed in pretty short order too.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôAnd the Carrier?├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson asked
├óÔé¼┼ôIt├óÔé¼Ôäós just a big ball of scrap now. The managed to sneak in an EMP whilst we were running away. We managed to plug an alternative power source to get the engines and brakes working again but as for the rest of it...├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôAnd you?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôJulia Korkovski.├óÔé¼┬Ø She offered a hand. Sanderson shook it first ├óÔé¼┼ôand I├óÔé¼Ôäóm almost certain to be discharged for running away...├óÔé¼┬Ø
She sounded almost wistful.
├óÔé¼┼ôHow many?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones asked
├óÔé¼┼ôToo many.├óÔé¼┬Ø She looked deeply saddened. Then she laughed heartlessly. ├óÔé¼┼ôLook at me! I├óÔé¼Ôäóm spilling my guts to a pair of men I don├óÔé¼Ôäót even know├óÔé¼┬Ø She pushed off the floor and joined the flow of the fleet crew members. The two pilots and O├óÔé¼ÔäóDay watched her float off in silence.
***
Adams was running. Very fast. He leaped over a small ravine, clearing it easily, his spiked boots giving him plenty of grip on the ice and snow. Taylor, however, was having some trouble. She was quite obviously not used to low temperatures and was slipping and sliding all over the place, falling over often. The security team was in pretty much the same state. Lady Donnel and the cooks, despite their fear, were quite at ease in the environment, outpacing even Adams with his bioengineering. They reached the town and Adams directed them all into a large eatery next to a small landing pad. He turned to Taylor and Lady Donnel.
├óÔé¼┼ôStay here.├óÔé¼┬Ø He ordered. ├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóll be back with a ship├óÔé¼┬Ø
He then ran out of the eatery. The people in it were staring at them. The eatery├óÔé¼Ôäós manager walked up to her with indignation
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat├óÔé¼Ôäós going on here?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôNothing much. Got any beer?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Adams found what he was looking for and punched the kid off it. He mounted the snow-bike and, in a cloud of snow shot off to the Lymbassi Spaceport at full speed. He had a monorail to beat.
The monorail in question slid into it├óÔé¼Ôäós station in the Lymbassi Spaceport just as Adams had stolen the snow-bike. The NCLF troops poured out of the train. The station manager was standing there, watching them in shock. Ian unstrapped Lizzy and pulled over his shoulder. He hopped out of the train and made a bee-line for the station manager.
├óÔé¼┼ôYou can├óÔé¼Ôäót stay here!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhere├óÔé¼Ôäós your medical facilities?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôYou can├óÔé¼Ôäót stay here!├óÔé¼┬Ø The station manger repeated, his voice rising
├óÔé¼┼ôWhere├óÔé¼Ôäós your medical facilities?├óÔé¼┬Ø Ian returned, his voice doing the same
├óÔé¼┼ôYou don├óÔé¼Ôäót understand! You. Can├óÔé¼Ôäót. Stay. Here!├óÔé¼┬Ø
Ian looked at him angrily. The was short and round and gave an endearing air of incompetence.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhy?├óÔé¼┬Ø
The man was about to speak when another monorail train smashed into Elizabeth├óÔé¼Ôäós. The two trains buckled and fell off the rail, smashing into the layer of ice below.
├óÔé¼┼ôThat├óÔé¼Ôäós why!├óÔé¼┬Ø The station manager shouted. Ian turned Ian pistol-whipped him on the head, knocking him out and then checked his watch. They├óÔé¼Ôäód just come in unannounced right before the 14:30 train. Oops.
Still supporting Elizabeth, Ian ran on onto the platforms, with his men in tow. It was bloody cold. The wind had picked up and a blizzard was moving in. They found a shuttlecraft. It was large enough. The two pilots were watching them in stunned silence. The crowds parted and surprise and fear. One of the pilots was standing outside the ship with a refuelling tube. The other was in the cockpit. Ian shot the one outside in each leg. The man screamed in pain and collapsed onto the floor. Laying Elizabeth carefully on the ground, he clambered up the flight ladder. The pilot in the cockpit was scrambling for her gun so he punched her in the face and threw her out onto the icy platform. The gun skittered over the edge. She withdrew and dragged her wounded partner away into the blizzard. He opened the rear hatch and spotted that it was full of cargo. His men couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót get in.
├óÔé¼┼ôClear the platform!├óÔé¼┬Ø He shouted to them ├óÔé¼┼ôI need to empty this thing!├óÔé¼┬Ø
His men ran back onto the main walkway. Ian climbed out and dragged Lizzy up into the ship, strapping her securely into the co-pilot├óÔé¼Ôäós seat. He closed the cockpit and flipped a switch. The NEO walls shot upwards and the platform rotated. With the ship now vertical and the rear hatch still open, the cargo (which hadn├óÔé¼Ôäót been secured) fell out into the launch pit. Then, instead of firing up the rotors, he lowered the NEO├óÔé¼Ôäós and the platform rotated back to normal. He opened up the cockpit again.
├óÔé¼┼ôGet in! Quick├óÔé¼┬Ø
They poured into the rear and pulled out seats from inside the walls, sitting down and strapping in.
Adams├óÔé¼Ôäó snow-bike skidded to a halt and he leaped up onto the Spaceport├óÔé¼Ôäós main walkway. He managed to get his arms and upper chest over the side, hitting it with a thud. He clambered up onto the walkway and ran to the monorail station. There were no trains; Montoya hadn├óÔé¼Ôäót arrived yet.
├óÔé¼┼ôHelp me!├óÔé¼┬Ø
Someone was shouting to him, a woman. He turned and saw a woman dragging a man with bloody holes in his legs. They were pilots.
├óÔé¼┼ôHelp!├óÔé¼┬Ø
Adams ran over. The bloody holes were from pistol shots, and the wounds had already frozen. The man didn├óÔé¼Ôäót stand much of a chance. The woman tried brush her hair out of her eyes but the wind just blew it back into place. Adams noticed that she had a newly broken nose.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat happened?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThey took our ship!├óÔé¼┬Ø
Adams looked up. There were two large cargo freighters. He got a brief glimpse of Elizabeth Montoya unconscious in the co-pilot seat of one before it├óÔé¼Ôäós NEO shields shot up.
EDIT: Ahem, I may have forgotten to split some of the larger paragraphs up for this (It's easy to read in Word because has indenting)
EDIT: Holy fuck, I hadn't realised this addition was quite this long. Also, most of this is Mark 2 material
EDIT: Ahem, forgot to remove the last sentence
I've also started doing hand-drawn comics. I'll some up when I get around to sorting Forsaken and ID out
Oh and I've been reading Dune and the Eisenhorn series again. Inspiration-me-do!
Anyhoo...
Lady Montoya was watching the conversation on the monitors.
├óÔé¼┼ôOh, shit├óÔé¼┬Ø she muttered. She threw open a ceiling hatch and ascended into the attic. The place was full of boxes, and also people. The two men lowered their weapons. The others simply watched.
├óÔé¼┼ôLizzy!├óÔé¼┬Ø One of them called, running up to her. They enjoyed a brief embrace.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat├óÔé¼Ôäós wrong?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôLots of things, Ian.├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya sighed. This probably wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót going to work. ├óÔé¼┼ôListen to me, very carefully.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Montoya├óÔé¼Ôäós shoes clicked as she went down the stairs as fast as she could. She slipped into her office. Lady Donnel was there, looking scared out of her wits.
├óÔé¼┼ôAmanda,├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya said. walking over to her ├óÔé¼┼ôthank you.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat for?├óÔé¼┬Ø Donnel asked, confused
├óÔé¼┼ôFor everything├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya sighed and swiped a bead of sweat from her brow.
├óÔé¼┼ôI know you don├óÔé¼Ôäót support the NCLF, so do this for me. Get out of here.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóm sorry?├óÔé¼┬Ø Donnel asked, still not understanding
├óÔé¼┼ôRun. Get off this planet and start over. You├óÔé¼Ôäóre a good person. You├óÔé¼Ôäóll go far.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat about you and Ian?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôIf we can, we├óÔé¼Ôäóll escape and go into hiding.├óÔé¼┬Ø Montoya gulped. ├óÔé¼┼ôLady Donnel? Let the Investigator in.├óÔé¼┬Ø
Lady Donnel poked her head around the study door again.
├óÔé¼┼ôLady Montoya will be here in a moment├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôOkay├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams said pleasantly
Lady Donnel disappeared. A poor girl, that Donnel. It was quite clear that she was in over her head. Whether or not she was a collaborator or was working here because she knew she wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót live very long outside the mansion was, however, harder to tell. If she wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót working here out of choice she might live.
├óÔé¼┼ôTaylor,├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders whispered ├óÔé¼┼ôget your team ready├óÔé¼┬Ø
Taylor nodded and slipped away.
├óÔé¼┼ôAnders,├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams whispered ├óÔé¼┼ôYou get out too. Find out as much as you can about this mansion├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat about Montoya?├óÔé¼┬Ø Anders whispered back
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóll deal with her. Go├óÔé¼┬Ø
Anders nodded and walked off as well.
Elizabeth Montoya zipped her suit up at the back. It was grey and green and surprisingly comfortable. All exits were shut tight, trapping a layer of air between her and the suit, a layer which would get warmer from body heat and provide a layer of insulation against the outdoor cold. Which was good ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ Montoya knew she would probably have to get outside. Fast. Their professional security team turned out to be a little too smart, and much too loyal to the Terran Colonial Authority. Damn Offworlders. Ian and his men were set up and ready. They could possibly hold the mansion ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ The Investigator didn├óÔé¼Ôäót know about Ian. Yes, it would work. She brushed her hair ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ as a Lady she nearly always needed to look presentable ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ and she stood, checking herself in the mirror. She slipped a pistol into a side pocket and, using the mirror, checked to see if it was visible. It wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót. Perfect. She nodded to Lady Donnel
├óÔé¼┼ôLady Montoya ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ ├óÔé¼┬Ø Lady Donnel stopped short when she noticed that Anders and Taylor were missing ├óÔé¼┼ôLady Montoya will see you now├óÔé¼┬Ø She opened the door and held it for him. He nodded to her in thanks and entered. The door closed of it├óÔé¼Ôäós own accord and Lady Donnel ran away as fast as she could, her shoes clicking on the polished stone floor.
Lady Elizabeth Montoya stood still in wait, her was face an unreadable mask, but her left hand quivering over a pocket. She was scared, and both knew it.
***
├óÔé¼┼ôNow, whilst this thing can go into outer-space, it was primarily designed for travelling around on the same planet, without passing through the atmosphere ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ it wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót build for zero-gee / micro-gravity. So we need to strap in lest we bump into something we shouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót, okay?├óÔé¼┬Ø
James nodded. Micro-gravity? That didn├óÔé¼Ôäót sound good. Jones slipped easily into his seat and clipped in. Sanderson clipped in a rather numb James before taking his seat.
├óÔé¼┼ôMicro Gravity?├óÔé¼┬Ø James asked
├óÔé¼┼ôYes. Micro Gravity.├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones answered, turning around in his seat to look at James. That├óÔé¼Ôäós were he saw the look on his face ├óÔé¼┼ôIt├óÔé¼Ôäós still gravity, there├óÔé¼Ôäós just a lot less of it than we get normally.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôEspecially on something this big├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson added
├óÔé¼┼ôGreat├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôNow what?├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson asked to Jones. Jones took a clipboard off the wall it had been attached to by magnets
├óÔé¼┼ôEngines at running temperature...├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones began, reading through the list
├óÔé¼┼ôCheck├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson replied, checking instruments
├óÔé¼┼ôBrake engines clear...├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôCheck├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôTow cable taut...├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôCheck├óÔé¼┬Ø
***
├óÔé¼┼ôMiss Montoya├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôLady.├óÔé¼┬Ø Elizabeth corrected ├óÔé¼┼ôInvestigator Adams├óÔé¼┬Ø
No hands were offered and consequently none were shaken.
├óÔé¼┼ôMay I inquire as to why you are here?├óÔé¼┬Ø She asked
├óÔé¼┼ôNo.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôCome now Investigator, One cannot merely enter someone├óÔé¼Ôäós abode and not provide a reason for doing so, can they?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThe reason is in the name├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóm sorry...?├óÔé¼┬Ø Elizabeth replied, confused
├óÔé¼┼ôI am an Investigator, and you ask me why I have come├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôAh.├óÔé¼┬Ø She caught on ├óÔé¼┼ôI am suspect├óÔé¼┬Ø She drew herself to her full height, about a head above Adams, but Adams still looked the most imposing.
├óÔé¼┼ôYes. You are.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWell. What do you want to know?├óÔé¼┬Ø
***
├óÔé¼┼ôFuel Cells locked...├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôCheck├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôFuel Cells full...├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôUh, I├óÔé¼Ôäóll check├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôBatteries charged...├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôNo, I mean I├óÔé¼Ôäóll have to check├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThe Batteries or the Fuel?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôLatter├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôOh, sorry.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôNo problem├óÔé¼┬Ø
***
├óÔé¼┼ôYour mansion is deep within NCLF territory, but still standing. Why?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Montoya tried to reply but Adams didn├óÔé¼Ôäót give her the chance, advancing menacingly.
├óÔé¼┼ôYou have low paid workers but live a life of luxury, and the NCLF haven├óÔé¼Ôäót hanged you yet. Why? You employ a security team on the day you learn of my visit. Why? And most important of all, Miss Montoya, is...├óÔé¼┬Ø
**
├óÔé¼┼ôYeah, they├óÔé¼Ôäóre full├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôExcellent. Batteries charged...├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôCheck├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôAnd... NEO shields up├óÔé¼┬Ø ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ the ├óÔé¼╦£NEO shields├óÔé¼Ôäó, or Near-Engine-Objects shields were basically large walls that popped up around the side lines of the launch pad, preventing anything getting on the platform that shouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót. With the shuttle clamped down, the pad rotated. The shuttle├óÔé¼Ôäós nose was pointed to the sky and anything on the platform would have fallen into the launch pit so that they couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót get sucked into the engines.
├óÔé¼┼ôThat├óÔé¼Ôäós the other reason we need to be strapped in├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones said to James, whose face had turned sickly green
├óÔé¼┼ôActivating Secondary Sequence.├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson said. At the flip of a switch, the giant turbofans welded to the sides spun into life and the ship began pulling at the clamps.
├óÔé¼┼ôActivating Primary Sequence.├óÔé¼┬Ø
The primary sequence was more complicated than the secondary ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ it required precision timing that only a computer could achieve. The engines warmed up, the clamps disengaged and the rockets fired, propelling the craft up, up and away.
*
├óÔé¼┼ôWhy do you have a gun in your left hand pocket?├óÔé¼┬Ø
The ship rose atop a pillar of smoke and flame
Adams├óÔé¼Ôäó quick remark threw Montoya off balance, and Adams kicked the legs out from under her.
├óÔé¼┼ôWe├óÔé¼Ôäóre hot!├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones shouted to Anders over the noise
Adams raised a gun to her head. ├óÔé¼┼ôElizabeth Montoya,├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôHold on to your harnesses!├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones called out to no-one in particular as the ship rocketed upwards
├óÔé¼┼ôYou are hereby under arrest├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWheeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôBy order of the Imperial Inquisition├óÔé¼┬Ø
The roar of the engines gradually began to diminish
├óÔé¼┼ôWe├óÔé¼Ôäóre leaving the atmosphere!├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson called out.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhoooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôStop that!├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson asked, annoyed at the distraction
├óÔé¼┼ôPhweeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones continued
├óÔé¼┼ôFucking idiot├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson muttered
***
├óÔé¼┼ôOpen fire!├óÔé¼┬Ø came a male voice from the upper levels, and bullets thudded into the walls and floor, but Adams was no longer there.
The basic Imperial Inquisitorial Investigator had a lot of implants, bioengineering and could only reach the rank of Investigator at the behest of another Investigator. That meant that the basic Imperial Inquisitorial Investigator had to be pretty damn skilled, and be pretty damned skilled without the aid of nanotechnology.
So imagine how quick, fast and down-right deadly a Lord Investigator with at least seven decades under his belt must be.
Adams had scooted behind a pillar as soon as voice sounded.
├óÔé¼┼ôLizzy, go!├óÔé¼┬Ø
Montoya scrambled to her feet and began to run, pulling out the pistol as she did so. She felt her heart hammer in her chest. It felt like the only thing that stopped it bursting forth was the insulation suit. Her feet pounded the floor as she ran, and she realised the folly of keeping the stone well polished. It was walking on ice. And she was wearing high-heels.
The rat-at-at-at of Ian├óÔé¼Ôäós men├óÔé¼Ôäós weapons raised her spirits. That damnable Investigator couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót give chase, and that equally damnable Taylor and her force were nowhere to be seen. She would live! She could flee the system and the reach of the TCA! She could live in exile with Ian├óÔé¼Ôäós friends! She wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót die! She would ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£
Adams raised his gun (being mindful to keep it behind the cover of the now crumbling pillar he was using as cover) and caught her in her side.
The bullet pierced the insulation suit, punched through her pale skin and slit past her stomach, clipping a rib too for good measure. Fortunately for Elizabeth, the bullet didn├óÔé¼Ôäót explode inside her, as it was designed to. It exploded in the wall instead, sending bits of concrete everywhere. Elizabeth fell to the floor, sliding on her own blood and the concrete dust to the door, screaming in agony the entire way until her shoulder rammed against the door she├óÔé¼Ôäód been fleeing for. Her pistol clattered amongst the debris
├óÔé¼┼ôNo!├óÔé¼┬Ø
Ian Keller scrambled down the stairs to reach Elizabeth. That damn Invie had clipped her in the side, and now she writhing in a foetal position by the side door. He scooped up her pistol, pulled her up onto her feet, she threw her arm over his shoulder whilst keeping another on the exit wound and he dragged her off. This complicated things. He fired a (very badly aimed) burst from his carbine into where the Investigator had fired from. He wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót there, and the bullets smashed into the walls. Ian looked up, fear gripping him. That bastard had, in the ensuing confusion slipped up the balcony from which his men where firing down. They were falling messily to the Investigator├óÔé¼Ôäós sword. This complicated things even more. They had to run. Now. If his men could just hold him off... He was alone, a single figure verses a great many. He├óÔé¼Ôäód be delayed at worse. Then Luciana Taylor and her security force burst in and opened fire.
***
The Inquisition, like all other TCA organisations, had a pyramidal vote-in hierarchy. He (Lewis) was the Head Directive, who ran the whole shebang, and he was voted in by the Directors, who controlled operations in their sector ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ Lewis gave them an order to do something, they picked an Investigator in the area and tasked him with it. They also dealt with any requests for personnel or for the aid of Inquisitorial Storm Troopers the Investigators had. They were voted in by the Investigators.
The Storm Troopers ran a bit differently, with those with the best records becoming sergeants and the Storm Troopers as a whole answered to the Directors. The Inquisitorial Spies and their subdivisions did more or less the same. Both the Spies and the Storm Troopers recruited from the TLA and the civilian population.
New Investigators were appointed by existing ones, in a sort of apprenticeship. When an Investigator decided a person could make a good member of the Inquisition they could take them under their wing as an Interrogator. The Interrogator would follow their Investigator around their travels, learning all he needed to know along the way. Once their ├óÔé¼╦£tutor├óÔé¼Ôäó deemed them ready, the Interrogator was instated as an Investigator. They were assigned a sector and off they went.
In the event of their parent Investigator├óÔé¼Ôäós death, the Interrogator would be investigated to find out whether they were responsible. If they were, and they didn├óÔé¼Ôäót have a good reason (defecting Investigators were not unheard of) they were executed. If the judges (made of Investigators, naturally. The Terran Local Law Authority (TLLA) had no say in the running of the Inquisition) felt that the Interrogator was unsuitable they would send him off back into his former position or put him under the wing of another Investigator. If the Interrogator passed the test he was instated as an Investigator, though such instatement├óÔé¼Ôäós were somewhat rare.
But now the system was starting to collapse. There were actually too many Investigators, and whilst the rise of the NCLF had resulted in a higher death rate than ever before, the numbers where getting too many for the Directors to handle. The Inquisition had actually outgrown itself. Investigators had now been forbidden to take Interrogators under their wing (though several had simply requested the aid of suitable, would-be Interrogator, and brought them with them everywhere ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ making them, practically speaking, Interrogators ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ even if they lacked the title). That had stopped the Inquisition getting any bigger. The Spies and the Storm Troopers ran themselves ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ they weren├óÔé¼Ôäót the problem. There were too many Investigators, and whilst their numbers weren├óÔé¼Ôäót growing, there were still too many.
He couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót just fire Investigators ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ they knew too much ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ and to kill one after decades of loyal service because their system had failed them was just... just.. not right! The only way to fix things was to re-organise the sector system, get a load more Directors to spread out the load and request more funds.
All in all, a plan Alckright was sure to disagree with.
***
The mansion, being big and expensive, had it├óÔé¼Ôäós own little rail link to the monorail system. Ian was very grateful that they had left it intact. He dragged her into one of the cars and strapped her in. He pulled a medpack from the cabinet and threw it to her. Then he grabbed for the mansion├óÔé¼Ôäós PA system.
The NCLF rebels fell back, or simply fell, at the onslaught of Taylor├óÔé¼Ôäós security force, who had them out-trained and out-gunned, if not out-numbered. Plasma rifles spewed their deadly payloads with unerring accuracy, burning holes in their chests that were both large and deep. They died messily. The security force had full combat armour, and with all being ex-soldiers in the TLA, they knew exactly what to do and when to do it. The NCLF had, mostly, ex-TLA carbines and for armour they had their ordinary clothes. They died in hordes.
Adams ducked under the clumsy swing of an ice axe. The man who swung it was beheaded with an easy flick of Adam├óÔé¼Ôäós sword. It was a very well-made sword. Two tiny emitters were positioned at the tip and the hilt of the cutting edge, and these emitters generated a laser-beam more than capable of cutting through armour. The sword was designed for cutting. A nearby NCLF turncoat raised his pistol in a rather panicky way and Adams chopped off his hands.
Taylor moved forwards, using the pillars as cover, her eye glued to the gunsights, her finger pressing lightly on the trigger to fire short, controlled bursts.
Adams joined Taylor├óÔé¼Ôäós side as the loudspeakers blared to life
├óÔé¼┼ôAttention all NCLF forces! Fall back to the M-Rail Station! Repeat, retreat to the MRS!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThis place has a monorail?├óÔé¼┬Ø Taylor asked incredulously
├óÔé¼┼ôIt would appear that way.├óÔé¼┬Ø Adams observed calmly.
Ian ran back to Lizzy in her seat. She seemed to have lost consciousness, and Ian began to panic slightly. He snatched up the unopened medical pack, catching her wound in the process. Lizzy groaned and opened her eyes. Then Ian really started panicking.
The two had met before the uprising. He had been a bank clerk, she had been what she was now (A lady, not someone with a gunshot wound). We just, well, fell in together. They had got engaged in the Spring. When Ian had considered joining the NCLF Lizzy had backed him all the way; letting them use the mansion as a base of operations. Of course, the rioters didn├óÔé¼Ôäót know, and so attacked the mansion like they did any other, but the NCLF managed to make them leave without much fuss. They set up camp in the attic and basements, using the lower cells for storage. They even left the damage as a camouflage. Obviously it wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót good enough, and the Imperial Inquisition arranged a visit.
The NCLF presence on Gallim was not nearly enough to be able to withstand the might of the TLA, and with all the local riots they had actually lost a lot of public support. So staying hidden was the plan. As soon as they heard an Investigator would be arriving at the premises in a days├óÔé¼Ôäó time, they quickly threw together a plan. Lizzy hired an offworlder security team, who, being better than the other hireable thugs, they practically jumped at for joy and dressed some of the NCLF members up as workers and set them about clearing up the place so that it appeared that the damage was recent. Unfortunately, it was in vain, and the plan basically collapsed.
The offworlders, being offworlders, were still loyal to the TCA, something they really should have foreseen. And they hadn├óÔé¼Ôäót considered how their own organisation would have reacted to the presence of low-paid ├óÔé¼╦£workers├óÔé¼Ôäó, again something they should have thought of. The whole plan had been a rush-job, and the repercussions were painfully (very painfully) obvious. Elizabeth├óÔé¼Ôäós eyes had gone pearly, unfocused and glassed. She was looking into his eyes and it pained him to looked back into them. They were dulled with pain. Elizabeth spasmed slightly and arched her back. Ian remembered the medical pack, pulled out a pair of painkiller sticks and jabbed them into her arm. Lizzy sighed slightly and her head lolled to one side. He sprinkled an antiseptic and a healing agent (it helped blood clot) on the wound, jabbed in a cloth, ignoring her slight wince, and wrapped a bandage around her midsection. Lizzy raised her head and looked at him again. Her eyes were still clouded. They needed to get her to a medical fast. He kissed her on the forehead and ran to the train controls, firing up the engines to thaw their ice covering. Then he heard gunfire in the entrance corridor.
***
Lewis swore. He was getting angry again. The Linium was gradually becoming less effective on him because of the stress of his job. He was glad he had it: without the emotion-suppressing drug he would quite probably gone mad with the stress. He slipped out his Injector Pistols, inserted the needle into his neck and sent the blue Linium into his veins, where it could travel to the brain. No emotions. That├óÔé¼Ôäós how the members of the Inquisition had to operate (with the exception of the Inquisitorial Spies, who would be very easy unmask if they did use it). No fear. No hatred. No mercy. No distractions.
With emotions, Investigators were inefficient. They could be distracted, unwilling to do their duty. Feeling had no place in their organisation. All Investigators had to take regular doses of the drug. Any found to be ├óÔé¼╦£with emotion├óÔé¼Ôäó were either shot, or if they were lucky, sent back to Interrogator status under the command of another Investigator. Mercy could mean that a criminal would live. Love could distract an Investigator from their mission. Horror, fear and shame could do the same. An Investigator could afford no conscience. A machine, in the past, could outperform a human because machines were not held back by their emotions. Now, neither would the Inquisition.
Lewis placed the Injector Pistol on the table and passed his secretary.
├óÔé¼┼ôPhone please├óÔé¼┬Ø
The secretary nodded, produced a phone ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ Lewis├óÔé¼Ôäós ear stud didn├óÔé¼Ôäót work inside the tower for security reasons ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ and handed it to him. Lewis phoned up Chancellor Alckright. He needed those funds.
***
├óÔé¼┼ôDocking in five, four, three, two, one, we├óÔé¼Ôäóre docked├óÔé¼┬Ø. The shuttlecraft got drawn onto the large holding magnets. Jones unclipped himself and floated gracefully into a side compartment while Sanderson twiddled and flicked a few switches. James had definitely not enjoyed that little trip. The turbulence in exiting the atmosphere nearly made him throw up. A pre-flight snack had been a bad idea. Jones returned bearing spacesuits.
├óÔé¼┼ôHere, put these on.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhere are we?├óÔé¼┬Ø James asked
├óÔé¼┼ôThe Orbital Dock├óÔé¼┬Ø
They suited up in silence, pulling the suits over their ordinary clothes. The suits had several layers, and could protect against extremely low temperatures and radiation, and was of a thick and sturdy enough material to prevent a burst in a vacuum or by being hit / caught on sharp objects. It was the temperature protection that had made Jones get them out. As the shuttle powered down, so did the heaters. Several parts of the ship froze. The only heat was coming from the electricity lines that powered the airlock.
They entered the airlock in silence ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ the suits had no intercom system and the visors muffled everything they tried to say to each other to the point of illegibility. The air was drained back into the tanks and the outer hatch opened into a rubber walkway that had extended out to meet the docking port. The rubber, particularly in the zero-gravity, was nice and bouncy, something Jones made the most of until Sanderson grabbed his leg and forced back down. James moved forwards with care. Every step he took on the spongy, constantly moving floor made him feel even queasier. Jones and Sanderson reached another airlock door, opened it and entered. The airlock was a pure white, with pale blue florescent strips along the edges of the walls. The pair turned and watched James stumble in with impatience. Bloody ground-hogs.
The room repressurised with a hiss. Jones and Sanderson took off their helmets and turned once again on James, who was struggling to take off his helmet. He finally managed it and then noticed their expressions.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat?├óÔé¼┬Ø
***
NCLF troops poured onto the monorail train. Lizzy was comatose again and Ian was fiddling with the rail controls. He hadn├óÔé¼Ôäót driven one of these in years. The engines were still warming up and the cabin was still freezing cold. He tried to start the train moving but failed. It just coughed rather pathetically. Ian cursed and ran to the engine room. There he noticed the icicles dangling off the fuel lines that ran across the ceiling from the tank to the engine
├óÔé¼┼ôBloody fuel lines have frozen!├óÔé¼┬Ø he muttered.
The train didn├óÔé¼Ôäót run on petrol, it ran on a strange little concoction that froze at about -10├é┬║C. Ian picked up a portable heater and strapped it onto the fuel line. After a few moments, he tried the engines again. They roared to life and the monorail departed for the Lymbassi Spaceport.
***
├óÔé¼┼ôWelcome, my little boys and girls, to the Towii Orbital Dock!├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones exclaimed.
It wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót that much of a dock really. They had simply entered a corridor, with the same style and lighting of the airlock they├óÔé¼Ôäód just left. Also like the airlock, it had little to no gravity to speak of. The two pilots were at perfect ease with it and were quite happily scooting around like a pair of fish. James however, kept bumping into things and wished the two would slow down. The corridor was semi-circular, like a donut cut in two. The walls covered in doors, most of which had locking devices. Jones and Sanderson appeared to be following the guideposts to the lift. James pushed off towards them, forcing any others to weave out of his way. The space-dwellers had all the grace of underwater fish. James had all the grace of a large stone.
The two pilots had long since reached the ├óÔé¼╦£lift├óÔé¼Ôäó (which basically was a big tube that, after pushing off the pad, you went up until you found the correct floor) and were again waiting for James.
├óÔé¼┼ôCan├óÔé¼Ôäót we just ditch the bitch?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones muttered
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat, and break his little gravity-loving heart?├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson replied with a grin.
James arrived and bounced off the wall. Jones grabbed him by the foot and pulled him into the lift. James, getting fairly used now to zero-gee travel, managed to rotate himself onto his feet. The two pilots had waited for him to orientate himself before pushing off up the lift tube. James felt more like dead weight than ever. Again the wonder at why he, of all people, had been plucked up and thrown into this mess. Oh well. It was better than trying to stop a sinking ship going down.
Jones pushed off the floor of the lift tube, giving himself just enough momentum to go up fast enough to get there quickly, but still be able to stop and slip out the door. James followed behind him, kept in check by Sanderson.
They had arrived at a caf├â┬® via the lift tube. The caf├â┬® was a giant dome, whose walls, after going up about a meter, were glass, looking out upon the Orbital Dock. The Dock had been painted white on purpose ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ if it was painted dark there was a chance that a ship wouldn├óÔé¼Ôäót see it, keep moving towards where it thought the dock was and collide. The caf├â┬® dome was the centre of the dock. Extending out of each side were two docking arms and launch platforms. At the end of each arm where railgun batteries of four. Were there wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót a docking arm there were magnetic docks for smaller ships like their own. The docking arms held ships in place with clamp wires and magnets.
There were numerous ships in the dock. Three dock ports were taken up by military repair vessels. They were spewing forth repair drones. The other ships were a mish-mash of big, small; military, corporate, freelance; freighter, cruiseliner, medical. A military Dreadnought limped into the dock, actually drifting sideways with smoke billowing out of numerous holes in it├óÔé¼Ôäós side. The frontal section, with the bridge, control systems and the like had been smashed up completely. Two of the repair ships undocked and brought it carefully into the dock, their drones swarming over it. They were lucky that it wasn├óÔé¼Ôäót going too fast. Numerous other ships ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ part of the Dreadnought├óÔé¼Ôäós escort fleet drifted in as well, several towing others. A pair of frigates were spiralling in what looked to James like artificial Siamese twins ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ one of the frigates, it appeared, had lost control and buried itself in the other frigate├óÔé¼Ôäós side. A carrier with most of it├óÔé¼Ôäós fighter contingent gone, but with the ship itself mostly intact slipped into one of the larger docking ports and got swarmed by repair drones.
The crowd in the caf├â┬® had long since dropped whatever they had been carrying (not that it went anywhere in zero-gee). The entire fleet had been decimated. One frigate, slowly drifting at the back of the column seemed to give up the ghost and exploded. The Dreadnought managed to dock and those in the caf├â┬® immediately pushed off, heading for the dock arm with the Carrier and Dreadnought on. The pilots followed and James sort of climbed along the floor to the exit with his feet floating in the air.
The two pilots pushed off down the tube to the docking arm to meet a sight they were totally unprepared for. Grim and grimy men and women in TFC uniforms, nearly all of them wounded in some way floated listlessly into the corridor (which was, fortunately, quite large) several were pulling severely wounded or dead comrades with them. A men with his lower left arm cut cleanly off had gotten some cable, tied it around his waist and then around the chest of his friend whose legs had been burnt off in a plasma fire and was pulling him along. They were all heading to the medical bay, which (by design) didn├óÔé¼Ôäót require a rather cramped tube to access.
├óÔé¼┼ôGood god├óÔé¼┬Ø said a man next to Jones. Jones spun around and caught the nametag: ├óÔé¼╦£Captain O├óÔé¼ÔäóDay, TCTV Alaskus├óÔé¼┬Ø (TCTV: Terran Colonial Transport Vessel) ├óÔé¼┼ôWhat the hell happened here?├óÔé¼┬Ø
An extremely tired woman whose shoulder pads marked her out as captain changed her course to them. She stopped herself by spinning back slightly, and panted in front of them for a moments, trying to catch her breath. She had shoulder-length brown hair which had been singed black on the left side. There was a deep cut on her cheek.
├óÔé¼┼ôNCLF battle fleet. Came out of nowhere about...├óÔé¼┬Ø she mulled it over ├óÔé¼┼ô...about fifty-odd L-Cees├óÔé¼Ôäó in the direction of Lith.├óÔé¼┬Ø An ├óÔé¼╦£L-Cee├óÔé¼Ôäó was short for ├óÔé¼╦£Large-Celestial├óÔé¼Ôäó ├óÔé¼ÔÇ£ which stood for the diameter of Jupiter. There being no Norths or Souths in space, space-goers navigated by planets, usually by computer, leapfrogging to their destination. ├óÔé¼┼ôWe were going to Lydan to help with an Inquisitorial purge. We thought they were the Inquisitorial fleet, but when we came close we realised they were NCLF. We couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót get our shields up in time├óÔé¼┬ª They must have destroyed the Inquisitorial fleet. Imagine that! A bunch of rowdy rebels in tin cans blasting the great Inquisition out of the air! The Battleship went first. They stuffed the bridge full of torpedoes, killing off the captain and all the command crew, not to mention the shield generators. All the smaller, unshielded vessels that usually stayed within their capital├óÔé¼Ôäós shield were destroyed in pretty short order too.├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôAnd the Carrier?├óÔé¼┬Ø Sanderson asked
├óÔé¼┼ôIt├óÔé¼Ôäós just a big ball of scrap now. The managed to sneak in an EMP whilst we were running away. We managed to plug an alternative power source to get the engines and brakes working again but as for the rest of it...├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôAnd you?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôJulia Korkovski.├óÔé¼┬Ø She offered a hand. Sanderson shook it first ├óÔé¼┼ôand I├óÔé¼Ôäóm almost certain to be discharged for running away...├óÔé¼┬Ø
She sounded almost wistful.
├óÔé¼┼ôHow many?├óÔé¼┬Ø Jones asked
├óÔé¼┼ôToo many.├óÔé¼┬Ø She looked deeply saddened. Then she laughed heartlessly. ├óÔé¼┼ôLook at me! I├óÔé¼Ôäóm spilling my guts to a pair of men I don├óÔé¼Ôäót even know├óÔé¼┬Ø She pushed off the floor and joined the flow of the fleet crew members. The two pilots and O├óÔé¼ÔäóDay watched her float off in silence.
***
Adams was running. Very fast. He leaped over a small ravine, clearing it easily, his spiked boots giving him plenty of grip on the ice and snow. Taylor, however, was having some trouble. She was quite obviously not used to low temperatures and was slipping and sliding all over the place, falling over often. The security team was in pretty much the same state. Lady Donnel and the cooks, despite their fear, were quite at ease in the environment, outpacing even Adams with his bioengineering. They reached the town and Adams directed them all into a large eatery next to a small landing pad. He turned to Taylor and Lady Donnel.
├óÔé¼┼ôStay here.├óÔé¼┬Ø He ordered. ├óÔé¼┼ôI├óÔé¼Ôäóll be back with a ship├óÔé¼┬Ø
He then ran out of the eatery. The people in it were staring at them. The eatery├óÔé¼Ôäós manager walked up to her with indignation
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat├óÔé¼Ôäós going on here?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôNothing much. Got any beer?├óÔé¼┬Ø
Adams found what he was looking for and punched the kid off it. He mounted the snow-bike and, in a cloud of snow shot off to the Lymbassi Spaceport at full speed. He had a monorail to beat.
The monorail in question slid into it├óÔé¼Ôäós station in the Lymbassi Spaceport just as Adams had stolen the snow-bike. The NCLF troops poured out of the train. The station manager was standing there, watching them in shock. Ian unstrapped Lizzy and pulled over his shoulder. He hopped out of the train and made a bee-line for the station manager.
├óÔé¼┼ôYou can├óÔé¼Ôäót stay here!├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôWhere├óÔé¼Ôäós your medical facilities?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôYou can├óÔé¼Ôäót stay here!├óÔé¼┬Ø The station manger repeated, his voice rising
├óÔé¼┼ôWhere├óÔé¼Ôäós your medical facilities?├óÔé¼┬Ø Ian returned, his voice doing the same
├óÔé¼┼ôYou don├óÔé¼Ôäót understand! You. Can├óÔé¼Ôäót. Stay. Here!├óÔé¼┬Ø
Ian looked at him angrily. The was short and round and gave an endearing air of incompetence.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhy?├óÔé¼┬Ø
The man was about to speak when another monorail train smashed into Elizabeth├óÔé¼Ôäós. The two trains buckled and fell off the rail, smashing into the layer of ice below.
├óÔé¼┼ôThat├óÔé¼Ôäós why!├óÔé¼┬Ø The station manager shouted. Ian turned Ian pistol-whipped him on the head, knocking him out and then checked his watch. They├óÔé¼Ôäód just come in unannounced right before the 14:30 train. Oops.
Still supporting Elizabeth, Ian ran on onto the platforms, with his men in tow. It was bloody cold. The wind had picked up and a blizzard was moving in. They found a shuttlecraft. It was large enough. The two pilots were watching them in stunned silence. The crowds parted and surprise and fear. One of the pilots was standing outside the ship with a refuelling tube. The other was in the cockpit. Ian shot the one outside in each leg. The man screamed in pain and collapsed onto the floor. Laying Elizabeth carefully on the ground, he clambered up the flight ladder. The pilot in the cockpit was scrambling for her gun so he punched her in the face and threw her out onto the icy platform. The gun skittered over the edge. She withdrew and dragged her wounded partner away into the blizzard. He opened the rear hatch and spotted that it was full of cargo. His men couldn├óÔé¼Ôäót get in.
├óÔé¼┼ôClear the platform!├óÔé¼┬Ø He shouted to them ├óÔé¼┼ôI need to empty this thing!├óÔé¼┬Ø
His men ran back onto the main walkway. Ian climbed out and dragged Lizzy up into the ship, strapping her securely into the co-pilot├óÔé¼Ôäós seat. He closed the cockpit and flipped a switch. The NEO walls shot upwards and the platform rotated. With the ship now vertical and the rear hatch still open, the cargo (which hadn├óÔé¼Ôäót been secured) fell out into the launch pit. Then, instead of firing up the rotors, he lowered the NEO├óÔé¼Ôäós and the platform rotated back to normal. He opened up the cockpit again.
├óÔé¼┼ôGet in! Quick├óÔé¼┬Ø
They poured into the rear and pulled out seats from inside the walls, sitting down and strapping in.
Adams├óÔé¼Ôäó snow-bike skidded to a halt and he leaped up onto the Spaceport├óÔé¼Ôäós main walkway. He managed to get his arms and upper chest over the side, hitting it with a thud. He clambered up onto the walkway and ran to the monorail station. There were no trains; Montoya hadn├óÔé¼Ôäót arrived yet.
├óÔé¼┼ôHelp me!├óÔé¼┬Ø
Someone was shouting to him, a woman. He turned and saw a woman dragging a man with bloody holes in his legs. They were pilots.
├óÔé¼┼ôHelp!├óÔé¼┬Ø
Adams ran over. The bloody holes were from pistol shots, and the wounds had already frozen. The man didn├óÔé¼Ôäót stand much of a chance. The woman tried brush her hair out of her eyes but the wind just blew it back into place. Adams noticed that she had a newly broken nose.
├óÔé¼┼ôWhat happened?├óÔé¼┬Ø
├óÔé¼┼ôThey took our ship!├óÔé¼┬Ø
Adams looked up. There were two large cargo freighters. He got a brief glimpse of Elizabeth Montoya unconscious in the co-pilot seat of one before it├óÔé¼Ôäós NEO shields shot up.
EDIT: Ahem, I may have forgotten to split some of the larger paragraphs up for this (It's easy to read in Word because has indenting)
EDIT: Holy fuck, I hadn't realised this addition was quite this long. Also, most of this is Mark 2 material
EDIT: Ahem, forgot to remove the last sentence