"Time to move." The stocky Libertonian said as he stashed items into a crate. "The Boss has only gone and fracked over the LN. Likely this place will be swarming with cops any instant."
His counterpart looked around the shabby place they called a safehouse, a few crates strewn hither an thither, a couple of pallets meant for sleeping, although the floor was more comfortable. The glass in the windows was as filthy as it could be without simply being dirt packed into a window frame. All in all moving out had to be better than lying low here.
"Okay okay, I'm moving, we'd better get this on the sled, where we goin' anyway?"
"Dogtown, doubt they'll hunt for us there. We ain't important enough to lose cops over." The souind of sirens interrupted the rest of his speech. The smaller man looked out of the only part of the window that wasn't covered in dirt.
"Frakk! No time, arm up, we're gonna be shooting our way out of here any moment." He pulled a fire lighter from his pocket and set it ablaze, throwing it into the crate. As the contents burned the sounds of pounding feet could be heard coming up the stairs.
"Rear exit, MOVE!" said the stocky guy, making his way towards the indicated doorway, just as he got there the doors burst open, and three SWAT officers in full body armour came marching in.
"Hands in the air! You're under arrest."
"Nuts to that, I ain't goin anywhere near Sugarland." The stocky guy raised his gun but before he could fire three blasts tore his face off. The other man dropped his gun and placed his hands in the air.
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Saint Del is considered a holy healer of diseases of children, but also as a protector of cattle.
The man paused, hearing a movement outside his door he quickly hid the recording device. His breath was hurried and jittery, and his face drawn with lines and stress.
He picked up the device again and inhaled deeply.
"Log delta nineteen, agent Isaac Brookes. I just received the go on directive twelve. Seems I've been rumbled. I'm trying to get out quietly, but it may be too late for that."
Isaac punched a few commands into the recording device, set a date on the audio, and a send delay on the broadcast, just as he'd been trained.
He was a man in his early forties with hair greying at the temples. Not a powerful man by a long way, but someone who could blend in.
He dropped a remote grenade under his bed and pulled himself into the vent above. He was used to enclosed spaces. It came with the job. Shutting the gate behind him, he started to crawl down the narrow tunnel.
He'd been on the base some six months, and this was all rather too hurried for his liking. Something had happened. Something big.
Crash
Two burly men burst through the door to his quarters, hearing shouting, he waited for it to die down...
Sylpheed stomped around his office. The gall of the navy, every Rogue knew deep in his heart that the Navy could stomp the Rogues, but to outright come out and say it, well that could end his tenure really quickly. Fortunately Hale had made a key mistake of his own, openly admitting he had no control over the secondary fleet, this meant both sides were know deadlocked. Both had unfaked voice recordings of the other admitting something that could end the others reign. Frankly if Sylpheed released what he knew, Liberty would be in riots before the week was out, but doing so would mean he'd be dead in that time frame. Hale would see to that.
It was annoying, having something that could start what he wanted to start but not being able to use it. Instead he'd content himself by hunting down every Liberty spy aboard his stations. Putting them to death would have to do for now.
Saint Del is considered a holy healer of diseases of children, but also as a protector of cattle.
![[Image: Del1.png]](http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a344/Spiderjerusalem1979/Del1.png)
![[Image: DramaticExit.gif]](https://sig.grumpybumpers.com/host/DramaticExit.gif)