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+--- Thread: The Hunt Begins. (/showthread.php?tid=7089)
The Hunt Begins. - Dusty Lens - 03-22-2008
Oh **** it burns my veins my suit popped a seal Im leaking atmo Im blind oh it burns I cant move oh **** Im finally going to die oh it burns Im not dying it wont stop
Eustace you mucked up the dosage! Put him back under before the breaks a rib on the restraints! Move! Sarah! SARAH, stand by with adrenalin if he goes into shock."
Cant move.. Cant breath.. This is it, so heav.
William Fisher couldnt open his eyes. The sensation of the attempt was there, but something was holding the lids in place. But he could hear the silent hum of machinery, and a jittery beeping that paced with the tune bounding in his chest. It sounded like a medbay, but it smelled like the kind of rooms where hed seen plenty of prisoners sat during his A sudden pain in his arm followed by the hiss of a hypo broke him out of his revere.
Well, hes awake and the last of the drugs should be washed out of him shortly. An unfamiliar voice began. Unlikely that there to be any lasting damage, but he was floating out there for a while. Suit recyclers and attention or not, he suffered from severe dehydration, hypothermia and exposure. Hes all yours, lets go ladies and gents.
There was much commotion of boots stomping across a dura-steel deck amidst the screeching protest of ill maintained wheels, finalized by the slam of what could only be a door designed to maintain pressure. At least one person remained, even breathing apparent above his pounding heart in the rooms otherwise dead silence.
Will suddenly felt sick and attempted to turn his head, but found it secured in place, an involuntary panic proved that he was restrained and when he opened his mouth to ask the inevitable questions little more was produced little more than a dry hissing rasp from his throat.
This was shy of optimal.
The Hunt Begins. - Reverend Del - 03-22-2008
As Herne walked into the med-bay he culd hear the sounds of someone thrashing around, he smiled to himself, given the rest of the med-bay was quiet as the grave that had to be his man. Herne very much hoped it was or he was down one pilot.
He got to the bed as the doctor turned around, the doc threw Herne a contemptuous glance, "He's all yours, let's go ladies and gents." The doctor and his team stomped out.
Herne walked up to the man's head and leaned in.
"Welcome back Mr. Fisher. Let me tell you how this is going to be, I pulled you out of your wreck and whilst I was doing this charitable act I came across something quite interesting. Now I needn't go into full details, needless to say you're black box is staying with me for now. In return for not sending this, and you, back to Liberty on the next transport, I want you to do something for me."
Herne undid the restraints holding down the man's head allowing the man to turn his face towards Herne.
"Simply put I have a job for you, down in hangar 4 there is fully equipped and ready to fly Bounty Hunter Bomber, it wasn't cheap so I've had a few optional extras installed in it to protect my investment. I shan't tell you what they are, that way you won't be tempted to go looking for them."
Herne didn't like this bad boy act, but this fella was trouble, Herne could tell. Plus what he'd seen from the recordings meant Herne couldn't trust him as far as he could throw him, but he could follow orders that much was clear. Herne undid the rest of the straps that were holding Fisher down.
"Get dressed I'll be in the corridor, don't take too long. Oh and welcome to the Bounty Hunter's Guild."
The Hunt Begins. - Dusty Lens - 03-22-2008
The door slammed, William rolled over and was quite pleased to find a ledge, over which he was immediately sick. The act of rolling over didnt aid much in the settling of things and vertigo quickly robbed him of any future plans that didnt specifically involve staying very still.
When it seemed like some manner of order had returned to the dark he cautiously moved his hands to his eyes, removing the medical tape holding the lids in place, the sudden intrusion of light through the lids caused a horrendous ache, resulting in another round of violent nausea.
As he laid on the unyielding metal table Will attempted to piece together the path that led him here, it seemed that all would come to mind was maddening day after day of being hopelessly trapped in the cockpit of his broken ship, dying slowly as he drifted amongst blinding shards of ice. His suit had worked to keep him alive, his suit had prevented him from dying. The damn suit wouldnt even let him bite off his own tongue, forcing him to endure day after day of the agonizing purgatory.
At least now he understood the pain in his eyes.
What happened before that He attempted a cautious blink, what resulted was as painful as it was blurry, but it was sight.
He had to contact Captain Richards and the other members of delta squad, damn everything else for the moment. But he wasnt going to stand trial and be turned to plasma to salve Libertys wounds, to that affect he had to avoid finding his way through the upcoming days without ending up in irons.
He sat up and opened his eyes. Today and tomorrow might be dictated by the man to whom, admittedly, he appeared to owe his life. But whos to say in the days after.
Twenty minutes later he stood dressed at the door of the chamber and palmed the touchpad. Another day to keep living.
The Hunt Begins. - Simsonator - 03-22-2008
Shane was sitting in the room he rented out for more credits than it was worth, searching his neural net for old friends back in the Dublin system. One name flashed by, Terri O'Hanlon. Typing out a message to Terri, he listed the information the Herne had asked of him. This Koltern fella was off station, meeting other members of a Molly party known as the Union of Gold. It felt good, knowing that Terri would be able get into Koltern's private quarters. Those years of drinking with the 'Janitor' paid off. Terri knew Arranmore inside out, so being able to get into and out of the system with the information would be easy. Transmitting it however, that was out of the question.
Shane sighed, he knew this meant a rough long flight into the Dublin system. Calling down to the hanger officer on his comm set, he asked that his Manta be made ready for a long flight. He would personally install the new kit he had found, once he was away from the station. Shane S'pose I had better tell that guy Herne that he will get his info, and that my neck is on the line traveling to Arranmore to get it.
He got up from his chair and left the room. Tramping down the corridor he flexed his right arm. The metal structure was pushing it, being 14 years old. Hell if this Herne bloke could back up the claims he mentioned, then Shane could buy a new arm, maybe even affording to get a skin made to cover up the metalwork. Till now that had seemed a dream. Taking the grav-lift down to the floor that held the bar, he whistled. Why did they not have music in lifts? Had no one had that idea before?
The doors opened with a silent hiss, and Shane stepped out. Walking past the Medical bay he heard the doors open behind him, Herne walking through them. He was saying something Shane didn't catch. Must have been someone in the med bay.
Oy, Herne. A contact of mine has got your info, but i'll have ta go out and meet him in Dublin. I'll be gone for a fair while, so I hope you've got something lined up for me when I get back. I am risking both my life and my mate's to get hold of this, so you'd better bloody be satisfied with what I bring back. I'll contact you when I have the data.
The Hunt Begins. - Dusty Lens - 03-22-2008
The boots fit, which was a good start, but remaining standing in them was proving to be a greater challenge than memory dictated it should. Falling on his arse in the hallway of some strange space station wasn't really how he planned to end up, but it was looking like it was going to happen. Leaning against the bulkhead he gestured to the fellow standing down the hall.
His throat still felt like he took a long drink of sand, but he was still able to croak: "Let's take a walk... Fill me in on the gaps."
The Hunt Begins. - Reverend Del - 03-22-2008
Herne looked at the wreck walking toward him, he smiled and walked over to Fisher and helped him to walk, "Let's a get a drink in you first, sounds like you could do with one"
The two of them walked into Dresla's, the bar was less than busy with just a few patrons, Lizzie had apparently dissappeared, her own agenda no doubt, herne didn't mind, until William had been filled in and was ready to fly, this venture wasn't getting off the ground. He needed a bomber pilot and according to all the facts and figures he had on this guy, Fisher was the man for the job.
"I'm setting up a hunting party, gonna show Sirius what being a Bounty Hunter means, using what we know against the scum we hunt. You're a little different from the rest of the crew, but you're special ops, so you should now Liberty well enough for my purposes."
Herne passed a glass of water to Fisher. He used the lull to see how Fisher was reacting, so far nothing to suggest he was happy or bothered with the idea, either the guy was as emotionless as the blackbox indicated, or the meds hadn't worn off yet.
"I'm not giving you a hell of a lot of choice in the matter, frankly. I want you in this team and come hell or high water I get what I want, understand?" Herne waited for the man to nod. "Good, now here's the deal, you get a shiny newish Bomber and I get a wingman who cna help me pop the big targets. Like I said in MedBay there's a few tricks and gadgets on that bomber that make sure I get what I want. However you've got til the old coot get's back from getting me my information, to sort yourself out."
Herne slid a keycard across the table.
"That's the key to a set of rooms in the station, not much but it's better than MedBay. Now like I said until I contact you again, you're free to do your own thing. I wouldn't try leaving though, that could end up worse than your last escapade."
Herne got up and began to walk toward the door. "One last thing, if you think about trying to call your old squadron to spring you, cold space will be the least of your problems."
Herne walked out.
The Hunt Begins. - Dusty Lens - 03-22-2008
William eyeballed the airlock through which Herne had made his departure for a few long minutes, mulling over the next step. Turned out it was an uncertain one away from their table and towards the nearly deserted bar. The news was playing sans text, with the gothic bret pop piping in through the bar's speakers posing a strangely unpleasent contrast to the apparently concerned visage of the reporter telling some tale of woe. But then, William just didn't like Bret pop. He gestured the bartender over, thankfully a live one rather than one of those damned useless bots.
"I need you to line me up three red snappers, a box of some protein and carb paste, as much water as you can put into as many glasses as I ask you for.. And I need two yellow jackets." He rasped the order out in halting succession, the water was restoring life to his voice, wetting down the sand that seemed stuck to his throat. "And I... Really don't have the energy for the discussion on the jackets. I know you hand 'em out to pilots, and I need some pep. Heh, and feel free to put it all on that Herne's tab."
Wherever Herne had gotten these clothes, they stank. But that they stank was in itself was delightful, that he now found himself gritting his teeth against the gin coursing its way down his scarred throat was a blessing. William grinned to himself, he was alive.
With that thought in mind he dropped the first pill and downed it with another swig of synth tomato juice, relishing in the burn of what must have been the worst gin he'd had in his adult life.
"Put some pepper on the next one, and don't spare the tobasco."
The pill was kicking in.
The Hunt Begins. - Simsonator - 03-24-2008
//Loading trace program.......
//Contact Herne connecting.......
//Connected
I got your bloody information flyboy. Risked ma neck to do it though. Me Ma would have turned in her grave if she saw what I was doing in the Dublin system. I met me contact, great man had got your goddamn information from the computer system of Koltern himself. He has a stroke of luck though. I dunno, maybe the old saying about the luck of the Irish and all that. Well whatever, I have the data on my ship system and I will be heading back to you now. Long trip back though. Tell ya what, why don't ya get that barkeep to get a drink ready and keep it in the freezers, this water that they stick in these packs does no good for a man's throat. My contact did bring me a drink i've missed more that me pa himself, a genuine Dublin system guiness. Well i'll be back soon no doubt. Tell that gal in the tight clothes to keep me a seat warm.....
Shane out.
//Connection terminating.....
//Connection gone.
The Hunt Begins. - Unseelie - 03-27-2008
Lizzie sat in Dresla's Bar, quite worried. Collectors had come by twice in the last week, and she wasn't making any more money than before. Maybe even less...she couldn't tell. Point was, the Changeling was barely holding together, and the threats were moving out of the broken knee between friends region...She wasn't safe. That was going to change, though. She'd found her first real job. High risk, high pay. Ship IDed =Caracal=, worth 5 million for the heads of the crew...were there more than one? Bounty didn't say. If the heads were literally required, it didn't say, either. Lizzie needed that money. Or at least her share of that money.
The Hunt Begins. - Dusty Lens - 03-27-2008
The icefield slowly moved past his cockpit, a field of lights screaming with hellish intensity. Even with his eyes closed the pinpricks of a thousand reflections needled his senses. With the power in his suit failing, the artificial tinting had slowly begun to fade.
The ships lazy turn slowly brought it into full view of the sun. William gritted his teeth in preparation for the long minutes of glaring pain, as the unrelenting light began to fill his vision he attempted to struggle in futility against the straps forcing him to endure the blinding agony. Unable to turn away, all he could do was scream. The white light filled his vision and he felt as though he was falling into it.
CLEAR
Son
With an effort William turned his aching eyes in the direction of the sound, to see his father standing just outside of his cockpit.
You dropped this
William looked down to notice his fathers outstretched hand holding an object, leaning as far forward as the restraints would allow, he attempted to take a closer look.
It was an eye. He saw the sun.
CLEAR
The ship shuddered, broke and all went black.
Youre a real idiot
The voice was vaguely familiar, though escaped immediate recognition. The accusation on the other hand was like an old friend, though recalling all the times it had been directed at his person would be a real chore.
A real goddam idiot
With a groan Will tried to sit up, but the ton of bricks sitting on his chest had other ideas and he quickly fell back with a weak cough. That was when he noticed the subtle smell of disinfectants in the air, and the gentle humming of medical equipment. Who knows how, but he had ended up back in a medbay, and the curiously smug voice of the doc was the same fellow from earlier in the day. He attempted to open his eyes and was rewarded with little more than a blurry soup. The room was in pretty bad shape though, half of it was completely darkened.
So, not an hour after we pumped you full of enough wakeup meds to set yer veins ablaze, following two days of layin on this here slab at deaths door, you decide to go ahead and throw back a few drinks and pop some speed. Well done! Idiot. The doctor recanted, not without losing his tone of smug self satisfaction. Whoever this guy was he had some serious issues with his bedside manner. So lesse here, managed to set yourself into a state of cardio arrest and at your age thats no mean feat! Like as not you shaved a year or two off your heart in the process, though with brains like yours Im shocked you can shave in the morning without cutting off your own head. As it is you came damn close to punching your own ticket with that damn stupid stunt and after all the bother I went through for Herne to put you back to rights.
The sentencing made a lot of sense. Will felt like crap that had turned into the wrong ally and gotten its ass kicked for its pains, sure he hadnt been particularly clever but the docs mannerisms were getting old but fast. He attempted to lick his lips, but his tongue felt like a dead thing lying in the dry gulch of his throat. This blew.
So The doctor rambled on. For your pains youve brought the following joys into your doubtlessly miserable and turbulent life: Youve spent another thirty hours laying on your ass and taking up a bed in my medbay, serving host to a unruly host of meds to balance out the **** you pumped your renal system full of, (and by the by if youre not pissing blood for a week after everything weve pumped into you Im a Xeno), a couple jolts o my sweet heart paddles whichre going to leave you feeling like twelve kinds of crap and all this coupled with your earlier traumas stressed your right eye beyond useful repair.
In a panic Will reached his hand up to his face, where he felt a thick square of cloth had been taped to his face. The room wasnt dark, he just couldnt see it.
We removed your eye while you were under, as you had already conveniently presented yourself with a reason to be on my table and under my knife as it were, it seemed the time to do it. The Doctor chuckled and leaned in close. You see, within the Bounty Hunters Guild pilots fall under all sorts of classifications depending on which walk of life led them to our door With that Will felt the edge of a card tap into his forehead. The data on your card informs me that your path is of those that places you at the mercy of the Guilds good graces, that or youre sent back to from whence you came. Wherever that was isnt of any great concern of mine, but in the interim your ass, soul and general readiness are at the mercy of the good graces of the Guild, and myself. So no whining, hmm?
With that the owner of the voice returned to standing.
Be here again tomorrow afternoon for surgery. In twenty minutes someone will be along to discharge you. Avoid eating or drinking for the next twenty four hours prior to surgery and failing to comply with my dont do anything stupid policy will make your missing eye the least of your worries.
Three quarters of an hour later William was once again dressed, standing in the door way of a medlab and feeling like hed ended up on the wrong end of a bus.
Time to start living my ass He muttered as made his way into the corridor, seeking out some manner of you are here map to show him the way down to the flightline. He may have been stuck on the friggin station, but at the least he could take a look at the ship Herne had promised him.