Missing Man Formation

[Manticore]

ID: JAMES LAMBERT

Perhaps an hour passed as Lambert wandered the seemingly endless maze of corridors that honeycombed the inside of the asteroid known as Buffalo Base. He finally knew for certain that he was, in fact, on the infamous base within the Badlands.

Had he been able to operate with impunity, he likely would already have been off this God-forsaken rock. As it was, he was hindered by two disadvantages: the need to blend in limited his speed to a brisk walk at best, and the fact that he had no idea how to navigate the mess of corridors and couldn'€™t ask for directions without a risk of blowing his cover. So he had been forced to slowly wander the halls of Buffalo in search of the ultimate prize: an independent docking bay. This was even harder because he had quickly learned that the vast majority of docking bays on the base were restricted to the use of Rogue pilots and had restricted access. Yet there were definitely a handful of docking bays which permitted Rogue allies such as the occasional Outcast or unlawful freelancer to dock, and that would be where Lambert would find his ride out of here.

He rounded another turn, walking with the kind of brisk confidence that indicated a busy man who shouldn'€™t be bothered. His eyes lit up as he saw a hatch ahead of him standing wide open with the words DOCKING BAY stenciled above. He passed another man headed the other way and slipped through the open hatch into the bay. He immediately side-stepped two paces to the left, and pressed his back to the wall as he slid into an area of shadow.

There were only three ships currently in the bay: a Sabre painted in Maltese colors, an Arrow light fighter painted in what looked to be Rogue colors, and a Wasupu devoid of any distinguishing markings. The choice was easy: the Wasupu not only almost certainly belonged to a freelancer, but Lambert also owned one himself for off-duty use.

He took a step towards the ship and then froze as he noticed something else. High above him, near the roof of the bay, was a long and narrow window set into the back wall. It was difficult to see through it, but he could make out two figured sitting behind what looked like a pair of control consoles.

Getting ahead of myself, he thought. Those damned bay controllers will need to be dealt with first.

He turned and slipped back out through the hatch. There! A narrow stairway set into the wall about twenty paces back down the hall. That would have to be the one to lead up to that control room.

He started up the stairs, and his hand reflexively went for the gun at his waist. He smoothly pulled it free and clicked off the safety. He took two steps up the last flight of stairs and then abruptly stopped, a sudden realization halting him in his steps.

Those were innocent men up there in that control room. Innocent men that he had been prepared to slaughter without even a single thought. James Lambert wouldn'€™t have been so callous about such a thing...

Yet his very survival could depend on his actions in the next few minutes. A single hesitation could cost him his life, or even worse, put him back into the hell he'€™d just escaped.

His thoughts were interrupted as the station'€™s general intercom system clicked on, a shrill female voice echoing through every corner of the base. He instantly recognized it as Pita'€™s voice.

"Someone here has my Brenna. The stupid navy man. Lock down the station, no one leaves until I get him back... ALIVE! The moron is armed. He has a gun."

Something very much like panic swelled up within the man now known as James Lambert, and subconsciously a decision was made. The monster within the man was turned loose.

Face devoid of all emotion, he took the final few steps up to the door, and blasted through it with a single kick. Inside he saw a standard control room, laid out in front of the window down to the docking bay. The man closest to him was already out of his seat, and whirled around just in time for a surgically-aimed bullet to smash directly into his forehead. The man'€™s brains splattered onto the window, and he fell, but the second round was already away, and it collided with the head of the man seated at the next console over a few milliseconds later.

A door on the back wall blasted open with a loud sound, and two more targets emerged for the man who the Liberty Navy had seen fit to award with the High Expert rating in handgun marksmanship after only a year at the Academy. Both Rogues fell to the deck with equally gruesome fatal head wounds.

After a moment to ensure that the room was cleared, Lambert moved to the first man'€™s console and spent a brief moment clearing the Wasapu in the hanger below for a priority launch. He allowed himself a small, cold smile of satisfaction as the inner bay doors began to open. He turned back to the door he'€™d entered from and raced down the stairs.

He reached the bottom of the stairs, and quickly poked his head into the hallway to check the path to the docking bay. His only warning was the low phrrm from behind him.

Reflex took over, and he jerked his head back into the alcove as a stun blast sizzled right through the space his head had just been occupying. He took a breath and then quickly stuck an eye out again to assess the danger.

Banshee was striding confidently down the hall, a pair of handguns of her own raised to a firing position. Lambert jerked back into the safety of the small wall that sheltered him from her approach as two more shots sailed by. He poked his weapon around the corner, firing off a few wild shots of his own to halt her approach.

'€œOh goodie, I'€™m so glad I guessed the right docking bay!'€ she exclaimed, her voice echoing down the hallway. '€œNow just to get you back to...'€

He reacted, sensing that the time was right. He dove out into the hall low, gun in his right hand. He drew a bead right on her surprised face and his finger tightened on the trigger. Suddenly, a burst of pain blossomed in both of his wrists, causing a smooth, deadly pull of the trigger to turn into an ugly spastic motion. The gun roared, and the bullet intended for her forehead ended up slamming into her mask instead.

She lurched forward, dropping her weapons, as he hit the floor, and dark blue fluid exploded from the shattered mask. The bullet hadn'€™t seemed to pierce the mask completely and wound Banshee, for it hadn'€™t been an armor-piercing round. Yet she screamed as she ripped the useless mask from her face and sucked in a breath of raw, non-drugged air for the first time in a very long time. Her agony was powerful and immediate, and the sudden screams took Lambert with surprise enough to give her time to turn and flee. Blue fluid splattered on the steel floor in her wake as she turned the corner and his last-minute, useless shot missed wide.

Lambert spent a moment checking himself over for any injuries. The brief pain he'€™d felt must'€™ve been from Pita, and if Banshee had found him already, Pita wouldn'€™t be far behind. He slowly pulled himself up, and moved briskly to the door to the docking bay.

The Wasapu was waiting, on the far side of the bay. He crossed the bay, and attempted to open the pilot'€™s hatch. It was locked, but that wasn'€™t entirely unexpected. However, this wouldn'€™t be his first time stealing a ship, and he knew how to go about it. As expected, the cargo hatch was unlocked, since most pilots preferred for the station'€™s service mechs to restock their supply automatically while they attended to their business on the station.

Lambert saw the perfect tool for the job ahead on a nearby repair trolley: a chem-welder. It was a small handheld device designed to cut through even tough battle-grade steel to make repairs, and thus it would be perfect for cutting through the hatch separating the Wasupu'€™s small cargo hold and its cockpit.

He snatched the chem-welder and went back to the Wasupu, pulling himself into the cargo hold. He was midway into lifting himself into the hold when his body exploded in pain, and he lost his grip, falling to the hard steel floor beside the ship. He writhed in pain there for what felt like an eternity before Pita'€™s face appeared above, a wicked gleam in her eye and her finger firmly pressing the button at her neck.

His last thought before he blacked out was of just how close he'€™d been to freedom.

---