The man held his gun at the hostage's head in desperation. He had truly gone off the deep end.
“Put your weapon down!” Shouted one of the five private security guards.
“Do-do you take me- me for a fool?! That is no-not how you tre-treat a cornered animal!”
The guards were helpless. There was no way they were going to shoot their own chief. They could only wonder what the hostage taker was thinking. The normally loud and busy hangar had fallen silent. The hostage taker stood in front of a Independent Miners Guild outfitted Civilian Bomber that was fresh off the production line. Miners looked on in disbelief at the spectacle, most of them joined the guards in wondering what the hell was going through the man's mind.
One of the guards studied the man, and saw he had a name tag on his shirt.
“What do you want, Dauer?” Asked the guard.
Dauer starred at the guard as if he was asking him something obvious.
“What do I- I want?” Dauer looked around nervously, as if he was making sure no one was watching the ordeal. He motioned to the Bomber that sat on a landing pad, facing towards the hangar's doors. “Th-that is what I want!”
The guards turned and looked at each other in confusion and then at their endangered colleague. They had no choice. They lowered their weapons and slowly backed away.
Dauer began to back away with the chief of security in hand. He stopped just behind the lip of the bomber's main engine. A slight grin formed across his lips. Dauer looked at his hostage who was, at this point, thanking a greater being for being alive.
“On-one las- last thing... Wh-what is-is my last name?” Dauer whispered into the man's ear. The Chief was confused as it is, but this confused him even further.
“McLin...”
Suddenly, the Bomber's engines started to hum.
“Voice command accepted.” A computerized voice boomed over one of the on board speakers.
Dauer threw the Chief out in front of him just in time for the engines to ignite and blow away everything within six meters in front of Dauer.
“En-enjoy hell, Ch- Chief!” Dauer shouted as he turned around and ran for the ship's boarding ramp. The engine's were only at one eighth of their capacity, but the sound they made was deafening.
Sitting down in the pilot seat, Dauer armed the Super Nova Antimatter Cannon and fired it straight into the hangar door.
Seconds later, the “Roc” bomber was cruising away from the station at three hundred and fifty KPS on a seemingly random course.
That was where the official report about Dauer McLin ended, however, his story was only beginning.
Dauer flew past Timor Mining Station. His CTE 19000, or more commonly called Roc, handled rather sluggishly, one of the reasons why the IMG had only purchased a few of them. Although it was sluggish, the Zoners were kind enough to insulate the cockpit to the point where no external or internal engine noise could be hear. Dauer was flying in complete silence.
Beta oh five, we have you on radar. What is your destination? A male dock operations voice broke the silence.
Patrolling the edges of Arafura. What do you think I'm doing?
Roger that, oh five... Timor out.
Despite Tau 39 being one of the most secure systems under the IMG's control, Dauer had become suspicious, maybe even paranoid, about Outcast spies trying to get into the system. He could only imagine what would happen if they managed to find out where and when certain IMG transports would be moving.
Attention anyone on SC1! This is Convoy three five declaring an emergency! I repeat, Convoy three five declaring an emergency! *Static* -ay may day! *Static* ition- is north of- *Static*-fura field!
Just as quickly as the SOS had been declared, it stopped.
Dauer immediately put the Roc into a banking turn and aimed it for the northern end of the field. There was no time to announce he was on his way to assist. Within a minute of Dauer heading out to help the Convoy, he noticed something... strange. A dark cloud of dust had replaced the north end of the Arafura. Dauer's sense of paranoia was beginning to climb
This is Beta zero five, Timor we're going to need backup at the northern end of the field!
His request was met with faint static.
Timor, respond!
The channel was dead. Something was definitely not right. Dauer stopped the ship about five kilometers outside the cloud and debated his next move. Dauer activated his long range scanners and started to search for any survivors. Dauer had no plans on jumping straight into an ambush, and he certainly was not going to if he could not locate survivors. Dauer moved his bomber another kilometer closer to the cloud to boost his scanners' power. As his ship came to a stop, he noticed something on the edge of the cloud.
He could make out some kind of ship. Not just any ship, a capital class ship! What looked like lightning began to encircle the cloud. Dauer knew that it was time to get out. Before he could even turn the Roc, a beam of light came from the ship and hit his ship. Everything went black.