Causality and casualty

[jammi]

The plan had gone horribly awry. He'd lost contact with Sophie, and now Bryant was in hot water. The Setting Dawn was currently lurking in the deep Omegas, to avoid the prying eyes of the Union. Inhabited space was risky at the best of times, even more so with this schism going on.

The Union had split into two halves. He and Sophie had been planning on breaking away, lifting the relevant security codes and business contracts then preying off the disorientated chaos that followed. It would have gone perfectly, but something had gone wrong. Communication had broken down, now it was the Separatists were in disarray.

The last reports had Sophie openly battling with the remaining leadership, who had taken an allied stance against her. Such teamwork was almost unheard of in the Union. Despite this she appeared to be winning. His head sunk into his hands. It had all gone wrong, so very wrong.

He was going to have to somehow get in contact with the Human Archive, then proceed from there. Then there was the matter of the slaves that were currently in the cells. They were wanted on Malta, but the Union would have it's eyes and ears waiting there. There was only one thing more dangerous to the Union than an unaffiliated slaver, and that was a rogue member of the Union itself. A rogue Boss no less.

Already the Mandalorians would have been informed of his betrayal, which would make Outcast space especially dangerous. He made a snap decision. They'd airlock the slaves, then proceed towards Theta. From there they could load on food and seek clemency with the Corsairs. Probably the most accessible group to him that the Union had a limited influence in. He picked up the tannoy from it's holster on the side of the desk.

"This is captain Bryant speakin'. Y'all are to execute procedure 13." He hung up. This was it. The end. The stars alone knew what was going to happen to him once he hit Corsair space. There was a ringing rap on the office's metal door. He checked the viewscreen built into the desk. It was the men he trusted most on his ship - which was to say not much at all. His lieutenant.s

They'd served under him on Planet Houston when they'd still been RedSkulls all those years ago. They'd gone to the Sugarland with him when a drugs deal had gone bad. He buzzed them in. Andrew Durnam, Patrick Keilger, John Peterson, Dean Smith. They all looked grim faced, which was unsurprising.

"Nath', this ain't right. This is pretty 'ucking messed up on the scale of things!" Dean glared at him for a moment before continuing. "The Union's put a price on your head already, and you're asking us to 'lock the cargo? You're bloody insane! We've got to make all the money we can, while we can!" Bryant surged to his feet, fire flashing in his eyes.

"You fall in line or you die out here, Smith! You can either chance it with me, or die like a dog with the Union." There was a heavy pause for a moment. "What'll it be?" He growled menacingly.

"We're cashing in," he said simply, withdrawing his side arm from his holster. Andrew, Patrick and John did likewise. Eyes widening, Bryant threw himself behind his desk, all four men opening on him as he did so. The volley of shots blew the meat of his calf open, lacerating his waist. He hit the floor with a sickeningly wet thud.

Gasping for air, and hacking up blood, he tried to pull himself along the carpeted floor, trying to reach the weapon that had been in the cupboard behind him. There was the muffled tread of feet approaching. "Sorry captain, loyalty is brought." There was the biting chill of gunmetal on the side of his skull, then the rolling black of internal oblivion.

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