An Opportunity

[Nametaken]

The asteroid field that exists in the Bering system is a hazard to traverse. The asteroids themselves are a minor problem with the navigational systems available today; the major problem is what hides amongst the field. All manner of criminals take refuge within the field as capital ships may not navigate them as easily. The lone patrols of military ships that are sent into the field rarely come back with no casualties due to the cunning ambushes carried out by the less than lawfuls inhabiting it.

Tales of the atrocities committed within the field keep most civilians near the freeport or within visual range of the tradelanes. However this particular Zoner fighter seemed to be ignoring the advice of wise men and was heading deep into the field. The craft appeared to be an Eagle piloted by a Zoner of some sort. Looks can be deceiving though. This was no Zoner nor a frightened criminal on the run from the law. This was something else.
The pilot's hands seemed to glide over the controls, such was the coordination of the pilot. Within a moment, the ship responded with a beep and an electronic voice. "Course adjusted to Delta-7-32-0."

The ship darted between countless asteroids, until it stopped before a particularly impressive lump of rock. While it looked a large asteroid from most angles, from the "top" one could see a small landing bay inset in the surface. "The Junker's last resort huh? Barely worth tracking down. Well barely worth tracking down for those who don't know what's inside..."

"This is Generic Base 12 to unidentified Zoner vessel, do you copy?" Said a rather distorted voice.
"Generic Base 12? How creative. What kind of Junkers are you?" The pilot replied.
"Aha you got the code phrase right; so you're not some lost freelancer. Very well, this is Junker's Haven."
"Greetings Junkers, this is Brokenclaw."
The comm operator gasped. Brokenclaw was notorious for his brutality and the calm expression he kept while breaking bones.
"Oh ah, you're clear to dock." The man wiped the sweat off his forehead with a greasy rag. Brokenclaw was a tornado of destruction, whether you're on his side or not. His visit was unlikely to go smoothly.

Brokenclaw's eagle glided into small landing bay, touching down with a slight bump. The landing bay doors rolled shut above him. There was a loud hiss as the room was pressurized. For a moment the room was pitch black, bar the lights on the eagle's controls. A set of dazzling lights clicked on and illuminated the cavernous space. The bay was entirely empty, except for a small walkway that lead from landing pad to what appeared to be an elevator.

With a hiss followed by a click, the ship's cockpit popped open. Brokenclaw leapt out from behind the controls and onto the walkway. He stood up and smoothed the creases out of his coat. No hint of joy could be found in Brokenclaw's outfit. Black combat boots, dark grey trousers, a dark grey vest and of course, the midnight black coat. On top of the gloomy attire were the dark shades that he wore, hiding his eyes from those attempting to read his emotions.

He checked his watch, straightened his glasses and walked down the walkway. The sound of his boots against the metal floor echoing throughout the room. The elevator doors opened automatically as he approached. Brokenclaw stopped to observe the contraption. It was rather filthy and poorly illuminated. In the event of the elevator failing it would surely fall apart completely as there were few other things that could go wrong with it. Brokenclaw sighed and stepped in. "Level 3 please." He demanded. Nothing happened. The lift didn't even have voice recognition. He sighed again as he pressed the appropriate button and then lent back into the corner of the lift as it began its descent.

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