The Scarman Enigma

[|Scarecrow|]

The blast ripped through half of the bulkhead, sending debris and shards of twisted metal scattering in all directions. Alarm klaxons wailed as the hull breech expanded, dragging inanimate objects out into space. Personnel clung for their lives as the harsh suction of the doorway to the void tugged at them. Tyrant Scarman and Brawler Connors sprinted off in the opposite direction, unaffected by the breech thanks to the forcefield that had been instantly erected around the damaged area. This would be their last diversion before they made their escape. A blast in the hull didnt have to be intricate to get the Freedom Fighters attention. If all went to plan, Merlow and his cronies would be too busy trying to save their doomed crewmembers. Connors had been the one who suggested they blast out the doors to one of the loading bays. The crew compliment in that section would be minimal, but he knew that Fleet Admiral Merlow valued the lives of each and every crewmember on board his ship.

The two men skidded around a bend in the corridor and halted at a large maintenance duct. Connors forced it open and revealed the unconscious forms of Victoria Wade and Heather Scarman on the other side. The two had been out cold now for more than an hour, and with nothing but sharp blows to the head to keep them down, Marcus was worried they would be waking up soon.
We need to be quick, Scarman said sharply as Connors slung Wade over his shoulder. They could wake up any time now,
Relax, revered Tyrant, Connors said with a smooth confidence. He grinned at his leader, I have an idea,
Scarman grinned, You should have been in my Elite circle long ago, Pete Connors.
The two men moved swiftly away down the corridor, doubling back around towards the hangar bay.

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Roughly ten minutes later, Tyrant Scarman and Pete Connors arrived on the hangar bay decking. They had taken a more subtle route around, using a maintenance duct to skirt the main concourse. Connors kicked the hatch open and deftly exited the duct, keeping Wade expertly balanced across his shoulder. Scarman came out after him, the pitiful form of Heather Scarman swaying across his back.
There, Connors said, pointing to a second Thunderhawk resting on the deck several meters away.
Hold on a minute, Marcus said, looking across at the control bay. Here, take her and go over to the dropship.
Connors took the small form of Heather from Marcus without question, turning around and jogging over to the Thunderhawk. Scarman turned the other way and sprinted over to the stairs that lead up to the control room.

Little less than an hour previously, he had rigged up the first Thunderhawk and deployed it as a diversion. This time however he would be flying the real thing. He sprinted up the stairs, drawing a small blaster pistol from beneath his stolen suit jacket. Spinning around on his heel, he surveyed the small control room. Three console operators stared at him blankly for a moment before the penny dropped. One scrambled out of his chair and dove at Scarman, a second sat rooted to the spot in fear. The third, a young woman, screamed in terror and dove for cover behind a row of consoles. Scarecrow fired three, merciless shots, a narrow grin smeared across his face. The first laser bolt struck the attacking engineer squarely in the chest, violently knocking him back down to the deck. The second blast ripped into the engineer still sat at his console. With a yowl, the man tumbled backwards, off his chair. The third shot tore from the blaster with a screech as Marcus calmly tuned his aim on the cowering third engineer. The bolt struck the console, sending sparks skittering in all directions with a deafening crack. Marcus began to chuckle.

The young woman lay with her head pressed into her arms, whimpering uncontrollably. Marcus slowly walked around the back of the console and looked down at her, his head cocked to one side. With a malicious grin, he hauled the woman out of her hiding place by her ankles, throwing her over onto her back. He leveled the blaster at her face, his grin fading to be replaced by a look of pure insanity. Before he could pull the trigger however, he heard yells coming from outside. Turning around, he glanced out of the viewport across the hangar. Connors had already boarded the Thunderhawk, dragging their two captives with him. Over by the entrance, the main double doors had retracted into their berths and an entire team of armed Freedom Fighter Marines was preparing to assault the Thunderhawk. Scarmans blood almost curdled as he saw the lead figure. His defiant alternate self was leading the attack, seemingly armed to the teeth. Admiral Scarman yelled to his comrades before opening fire at an unseen target beneath the Thunderhawk. Connors must be putting up some sort of defense.
Tyrant Scarman thought fast. He glanced across at the controls before him, watching them wink and flash in the dull light. He immediately knew what to do, sitting down in front of the nearest console. He turned to face the quaking engineer on the floor.
Give me the codes for the internal defense network!

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| S C A R E C R O W |

"See you space cowboy..."