Ortog Ashford keys in a sequence in the comms console. There is a look of concern in his face, but also stern resolution.
*channel open, recipient Arbiter Trenton, voice only - the console chirps.
James, its Ortog here - he lights a cigar and exales - we are on route to Sigma 13 to try to contact some alien experts that might still be around from the Nomad War. Also we will try to get hold on some faster vessels apropriated for the defense against those morphs.
We will report to you as soon as we have something solid.
James sits at his command chair listening to all the reports.
Johnny Rico enters the room and gives him the data on the new station.
He views the information when at the same time an operator speaks..
Sir we have contact from Finnegan hes arrived at San Juan.
He responds.. Good tell him to meet me at once.
Aye sir.
Turning his attention back to Johnny he says.. Great job out there John.
Now I need you to double your efforts and get a weapons platform constructed stat..
As he is finishing his statement the operator yells out..
Contact cruiser class nomad lifeform detected entering Puerto Rico sir!
Johnny jumps up and begins to run out of the room when James says..
HOLD Johnny! Your salvager is no match for a cruiser.
The only defense we can count on right now is those platforms.
Sir the ship is approaching Vieques!
James stands up..
Call Marcus and the others back now!
Are there any ships near Vieques?
Aye sir there are two independent Junker vessels in range of the crusier.
Muthafu.. Patch into the system comms and tell those ships to leave the area!
Too late sir the nomad has destroyed both vessels.
DAMN!! Where the hell is Marcus?
They were following the other nomad that fled earlier.
Ortog has also joined the squad on his way back from Yanagi.
All ships are enroute from the Texas system.
How many ships in his group?
He appears to be formed with three Congress bombers.
Excellent put Marcus on screen.
Marcus we have a nomad cruiser in PR.
It has destroyed two Junker vessels already.
Orders are to destroy it on sight!
Roger that sir enroute.. relaying orders.
Sir Finnegan is trying to leave in the Gordon.
Hes asking to have docking bay doors opened.
James paces as he says..
Denied we have bigger plans for that ship.
Don't want to risk it being damaged.
Our bombers are on the way.
They will deal with this.
Sir we have entered PR and have acquired the target.
All units are engaging and nomad is fleeing.
Heading towards Texas jumphole.
Marcus that thing shot down Junkers!
You follow it and destroy it.
DO NOT LET IT ESCAPE!
Affirmative sir.. jumping to Texas.
He is out of range but we are in pursuit.
Several minutes go by. Communications stream in constantly about the Nomad and its current position.
James paces back and forth listening to the chase closely.
An operator calls out.. Nomad has entered New York!
Marcus and crew have engaged!!
On screen!
Nomad destroyed.
The operators begin clapping and cheering.
James sits back down and takes a deep breath.
Johnny looks to James and he glances over..
More will be coming.
John get out there and get back to work.
Operator call those ships back to PR.
They need to protect the build.
Tell Finn I'll be at the bar.
I need a drink.
Tim Finnegan sits sprawled across a corner booth in the San Juan Tavern, feet up on the table, heedless of his kilts.
A number of upturned glasses, a half-bottle of whiskey, and a datacard labeled "Eyes Only" clutter the table around a winking monitor embedded in the glass.
He slaps a fist down on the monitor, turning off the Congress battlefeed he'd been watching.
Draining the last of his pint of ale and klunking it down upside-down with the other glassware, he pinches his collar button, activating a direct line to the .:j:.Claymore.O'Gordon.
"Aye Cap'm?" comes the response from his XO, Robert Murphy. "Murph, lad. Cool th' coils, lock 'er doon. Aye an' return crew t' shore leave, boyo - standard 'Rico rotation, as per."
Almost as an afterthought he said, "Oy! an' getcher arse doon t th' pub, double-toime. Jimmy-boy's on 'is way 'ere."
A worried look flashes across his brow as he taps the bright red datacard with a knuckle. "An' if wha' 'es ta tell me is more o' what's on 'is 'ere card, Oi'll be needin' ye'z t' cart me drunken arse oot o' this joint."
"Aye Cap'm, on th' double."
with a barely audible click, the line cuts.
Finn mumbles as he pours another whiskey. "Bloody Arbiters! Muckin' aboot wif th' Rift? 'S gonna be a shytestorm afore this be o'er..."
Ortog's recycler docked at Vieques and the hatch opened to an hangar where people cheered loudly.
He unfastened his helmet, tossed it at one of his crew, grabbed a can of beer throwed at him, and stole a kiss from one of the mechanic girls. He then gestured for silence.
- Gentleman, and ladies - he winked at the female grease monkey- yes, I know you all happy and celebrations are, indead, in order. However junkers lost their lifes. This can't be allowed to continue.
Several noises of sympathy were heard, angry mumbles here and there, crowd showing their agreement.
He sipped at the beer, and sticked a cigar on his jaw, unlit.
-I need you all to give your very best effort to the Congress, we need those platforms, and we need those Scylas in working order, and we need them now.
Lits the cigar in the sudden silence and looks around:
-Now, lets go back to work shall we? And...by the way, Tyber's crew is onroute with some delicate kusari flowers, fast and furious buggers, lets put them in dutty as fast as we can.
Smoke and whiskey smells fills the air.
Music is playing at a very low volume in the background.
The bar is unusually quiet especially following the fight that just took place.
After such a win it would be expected to see Junkers in there celebrating.
But not tonight..
James Trenton has San Juan on lockdown and everyone working triple shifts.
As he enters the bar the barkeep looks up and says.. AHH Mr. Trenton.. tis good to be seein ya agin!
What'll it be sir da usual?
James responds.. Thats right George but make it a double and gimme two of em.
Come'n rite up!
Bartender pours the drinks as he slides them over to James he says. Sir Congressman Finnegan show'd up a few minutes b'fore ya's got here.
He's wait'n for ya ova in da corner.
James swigs back the first double shot in one gulp and puts the empty glass down on the bar.
He reaches for the second drink and says.. Ah that explains the smell then!
The barkeep laughs out loud. HAHAHA dat sounds bout right sir!
James picks up his second drink..
Thanks George.. gonna head on over and talk with Finn some.
Very good sir.
James turns around and heads over to the corner where Finnegan is.
As he walks up Tim doesn't move just looks up and grins.
James smirks as he says.. Finnegan my ole friend..
Great to see ya again.
James sees a bit further up Finnegan's kilt than he wanted.
He turns his head and puts one hand up to cover the view. Gawddamnit Finn!!
Brotha its good to see ya but I don't need to see that!
James sits down in the booth.
Positioning himself so that he won't be viewing Finnegan's nether region.
He finishes his second drink and slams the empty glass face down on the table.
Finn when you became a director you were shown the secret archives.
You know of our origin and what took place here so very long ago.
That information was classified and only shown to those in Congress command.
Well as time does to all things it is causing that to change.
We cannot keep the secret any longer with these attacks.
Soon we will show all of the Congress the files.
James pauses as he pours himself a drink from Finnegan's bottle.
Not right now though.
No right now I need them focused on the defense structures.
Once we get our weapon platforms online we will call a meeting.
Then our secrets will be revealed and everyone in the Congress will know.
Until then I need you to download all the schematics for the Gordon into our central mainframe.
Then move to Vieques and get with the crew there to do some reverse engineering.
We must reproduce that ship exactly to offer Rico more protection.
I have Tyber working on a scylla we acquired from the Rogues.
Also I have a line on second scylla but I still need to contact the Mollys for that.
James finishes the drink and slams down the glass.
Finn freezes, his jaw locks.
Slowly, deliberately, he swallows his mouthful of whiskey.
His lips curl back from his teeth, slowly.
"Mollys, Jimmy, lad?
Are ye oot o' yer fek'n moind? Reaver lovin' bloody Mollys?"
His calm is dissolving, veins stand out on his forehead.
Tattoos twist and dance on his arms.
He cricks his neck and spits on the floor.
"Them sheep-bugg'rin' Mollys usta be good lads, aye - back when th' Republic were in charge o' bonny Dublin, sure.
But ye do know tha Reavers walk th' halls o' Arranmore an' Lisburn, aye?
Oi seen them pess-stain mercs wif me own ruttin' eyes on Arry.
Oi wouldnae trust them bloody-minded Molly sellouts far as Oi can toss 'em."
Finn hurls an empty glass against the floor, fully snarling now.
He slams his knuckles down onto the tabletop and leans forward on his fists.
"Oy, Jimmy, even if ye'z could talk t' them lot wifoot vomitin' up yer lunch - can ye'z be sure they willnae pack tha' Scylla full o' Reavers as a wee Trojan 'orse, aye?"
Finn shakes his head and stares daggers at his friend and boss. "Dinnae arsk ol' Finn ter talk t' them Irish peckerwoods - someone's boond ta' end up deed.
Stone, bleedin', deed."
James watches calmly as Finnegan blows his top and throws the glass.
Sitting upright in his chair he faces the snarling man hes known for ages.
He waits patiently for him to finish before he begins to speak.
He says..
Finn.. try and remain calm.
Believe me I know your frustration and knew you wouldn't approve of this.
Just as you didn't support the deal I made with the Rogues.
There is one simple fact in all this..
I'm the boss.
You work for me.
Thats it.
Finnegan obviously unhappy with what James just said plops back down in his chair.
Simultaneously grabbing the open bottle of whiskey off the table.
He chugs the rest of the liquor and sends the bottle sailing across the room.
James barely raises an eyebrow as the empty bottle crashes into the wall shattering into pieces.
Leaning forward James looks at Finnegan and says..
Now listen up.. you crazy old bugger.
You will do what I expect and leave the Mollies to me.
That deal I will handle and you just stay out of it.
Don't need ya muckin up the works.
James pauses.. Crap Finn don't ya know I hate the Reavers too.
I lost alot of great men and good ships to those bastards.
Their time will come one day but hell man FOCUS!
We have a much bigger problem to deal with now.
Last thing we need are Reavers or Mollies gunning for us too.
Were trying to save us and our home from certain death.
So follow your orders and help me save our system, our bases and our people.
James stands up as he says.. Finn your one of most trusted friends.
So trust me and just do what I ask you to do.
Is that clear?
Tim spreads his tattooed arms across the back of the booth, staring icily at Arbiter Trenton. "...is that clear?" rings i his ears.
He thinks of the Gordon Junkers in Inverness who count on him to oversee their safety and livelihoods.
He remembers the defeated whimpers of the wailing Junker lasses who've lost loved ones to Reaver attacks.
Attacks that came unbidden and unasked for.
Attacks that had launched from Molly strongholds. Yeah, he thinks, that's clear.
Finnegan closes his eyes, and breathes deeply.
Standing, he fixes again his gaze on James, and smiles.
That wry rebel smile he'd smiled for sixty some-odd years. "Crystal." he answers. "Ye knows Oi'll toe th line, aye."
He grabs air where the bottle had been, frowns at his empty palm, then over his nose inspects the glittering ruins on the deck.
"Georgy boy!" Finn yells at the bartender. "Anovver bloody round, t'go, aye!"
Shoving two fingers into his mouth, he whistles shrilly and long.
Junkers from booths and barstools knock back their drinks and make to leave.
Slapping Arbiter Trenton on the shoulder as he rambles past him he shouts again. "Jimmy 'eres pickin' up th' tab, fer th' whole ruttin' Crew!
Let's 'ear it fer Uncle Trenton, lads!"
Cheers and raised glasses erupt from the Claymore's crew as they trickle towards the door.
Finn winks at his friend, smirks widely, and melts in with his departing crew.
James watches as Finnegan and his crew leaves the bar.
He walks over to the barkeep again and says.
George charge their bill to my account.
Make sure to add on thirty percent for your tip and for the mess.
Aye sir very good!
As James strolls through the corridor he thinks..
Quote:Finn is right. Still we cannot do this alone. We are going to need the extra firepower.
He arrives back at the command center as the door opens the operators greet him. Sir.
Whats the status on the guard station progress?
Sir we've received word the station has additional armor added.
There are several weapon platforms constructed and are now online.
Also sir there is a message from Tyber.
![[Image: marcusn3.jpg]](http://img836.imageshack.us/img836/8093/marcusn3.jpg)
![[Image: xjg9j.png]](http://i.imgur.com/xjg9j.png)
![[Image: uO7bn.png]](http://i.imgur.com/uO7bn.png)
![[Image: wQlnq2b.png]](http://i.imgur.com/wQlnq2b.png)
![[Image: 4ZLnMzL.png]](http://i.imgur.com/4ZLnMzL.png)
![[Image: johnnyrico.png]](http://s1310.photobucket.com/user/shaun_simpson1/media/johnnyrico.png.html)
![[Image: FinnScowl.png]](http://i1101.photobucket.com/albums/g436/B67F42/Finn/FinnScowl.png)
![[Image: FinnGrin7.png]](http://i1101.photobucket.com/albums/g436/B67F42/Finn/FinnGrin7.png)
![[Image: dxfgoo.png]](http://i1191.photobucket.com/albums/z480/Nervod/dxfgoo.png)