Tyrant Marcus Scarman looked at himself in the mirror. The suit he had taken from the wardrobe fitted perfectly and the tie around his neck didnt seem as tight as he had expected it might. His clean shaven face looked somewhat pale in the dim light of the bathroom and his now neatly cut and cropped hair gave him an air of importance. If anyone saw him now against monster he had been only an hour before, they would not have recognized him as the Tyrant of the Black Flag Corsairs. The only thing to do now was cover up his scar.
The long battle wound ran from his forehead, down his right eye and all the way down his cheek, ending at his jaw. It was an ugly scar, one that aided in giving him the ominous impression he enforced on people. He opened the drawer before him and fumbled around with the contents. The contents of the drawer turned out to be nothing but cotton buds, toothpicks and razorblades, nothing Marcus could use to cover up his hideous scar. He slammed the drawer shut in impatience and growled. There had to be some SyntheSkin around somewhere, a woman with a child ought to keep a spray can handy at all times in case their young ones fell down and hurt themselves. He turned to the cabinet behind him and opened the door forcefully. The glass pane almost shattered as the door slammed open. Marcus ducked his head into the cabinet and began rummaging around.
Out in the corridor, Senator Scarman returned to his quarters from a meeting with Admiral Wilder, only to find the doorway already open. There was a clattering sound coming from the bathroom. Pausing in the entrance, his ident card in hand, he called tentatively into the room.
Hannah?
The clattering noise suddenly stopped and silence fell throughout the small quarters. Marcus entered the room carefully, noting the dampness on the walls.
Hannah are you out of the shower yet?
He walked past the bed and turned around into the bathroom. The floor was still wet and a towel lay draped unevenly across the shower floor.
Hannah? The Senator paused and stared in horror at the streaks of red smeared across the walls of the shower and the prone form lying crumpled in a puddle of blood on the floor. He turned around just in time to see a horrifying parody of himself lift a silenced gun to his head.
The other Marcus Scarman looked just like the Senator, only he had an ugly scar running down his face. He gave Marcus an evil smile before pulling the trigger. Senator Marcus Scarman was dead before he hit the floor, the silenced bolt of plasma destroying his face entirely.
Tyrant Scarman smiled grimly down at the corpse of his alternate self and lowered his blaster. He holstered it and bent over to grab the dead mans legs. He then dragged him out of view of the doorway and turned back to the mirror. He then produced a spray can of SyntheSkin that he had found in the cupboard and began to spray it over his scar. Excellent, he thought to himself as he scar gradually began to disappear. His plan was going perfectly well.
Merlow pounded his fist on his desk. They had managed to penetrate his security net, something he took great pride in, something that was never supposed to happen. He slowed his breathing to prevent himself from breaking anything in the room out of sheer anger and frustration. He looked to his right, his swords and pistols hung from their holsters on the coat hanger. He reached out and grabbed hold, standing and strapping those weapons to himself with speed and efficiency. He unsheathed his blades, examining them. He admired their sheen polish, not tarnished at all in the numerous battles he's had to use them to carve enemies in ways never quite believed by his own people. He sheathed them, the audible *click* ringing in the room. He walked out of the room, signaling to the two HiME agents stationed outside the room to follow him.
"Report?" he asked Harada Chie, a Combat-Captain in Section 9.
"Sir, we have signatures all over the ships," she replied as they walked down the hallway, "These perpetrators were able to hide themselves from our sensors in the Jefferies Tubes, indicating that they must be using some sort of passive stealth measure. These stealth measures are flawed, as we did get a good reading more than a few times. Latest estimate number them at around four to eight men strong."
"These are close quarters," Merlow stated, entering the turbo lift with the two of them, "Are our people equipped with swords and knives to complement their other weapons?"
"Yes Sir," said Miyu Greer, an Intelligence-Second Lieutenant, "We've already instructed our Sadukar aboard to use their knives and swords with great measure. They're probably going to need them."
"Good, good. We're heading to Senator Scarman's quarters now, so I hope you're both up for it."
"Always Sir," They replied in unison.
The lift started to slow down as they approached the VIP quarters, "Weapons drawn, ladies. Check your targets, and still close. I'll take point."
With that, the lift doors opened, an empty hallway in front of them. The trio advanced deliberately, Merlow gripping his rail pistol and a deployable one-way shield. The HiME each sported a unique weapon that fitted their personality. They noticed that Senator Scarman's room was open ahead, and steam was seeming to seep out, like someone forgot to shut the shower door. Their deliberate advance turned into a sprint as they rushed to check on the good senator. They found no immediate evidence of anything sinister, but the bathroom door was open. They felt as though they should investigate.
Merlow advanced a few steps into the room and cautiously deployed the one-way shield on the floor. He backed away and called.
"Senator Scarman, you in there?" The trio waited in silence, their weapons raised, their fingers tense on the triggers...
Commander in Chief of the Migrant Fleet / Former Fleet Admiral of the Liberty First Fleet Second Survivor of the Mentat Program. We must give and take with good measure. Give too much, we become complacent. Take too much, we incur the wrath of our own. Tread Lightly. --Supreme Bashar Robert Merlow--
Planet Los Angeles, California system, Liberty Space Senator Scarman's Residence
The ships struts groaned with pressure as the ship sat down on the abandoned Landing Pad next to the remains of the Senator's house on the planet. Tape hung from the door from where the police had no doubt investigated the house from stem to stern, but found nothing as usual. I was really getting good at this stealth thing. I ran quickly to what remained of the door and snuck inside.
The marble floors had cracked and shattered along with the walls. Metal rebar stuck out of the walls and floor from where the explosion had superheated the metal and caused it to bend outwards and jet out of every hole possible. The stairs up to the upper sections of the house were almost collapsed but I balanced myself and walked up stairs to the bedrooms and started digging through the belongings. I grabbed some computer chips out of the log systems and sorted through a few pictures here and there for the Tyrant to understand his role better.
I heard a noise from downstairs and swung my rifle around to my front arming the rifle. The click echoed in the house and I heard someone stop moving and arm their own weapon.
"Hello?" I heard. I recognized the voice as one of the good Admirals. Had he come back to look for something? I had landed my ship on the other side of the house to avoid suspicion and detection from anyone who would have landed, so no doubt he hadn't seen my ship parked on the pad. I heard him coming up the stairs. This wasn't the place or time that I was supposed to attack him, he probably had a squad with him too because I heard foot prints down stairs as well. I swung through the hole in the wall to the other room and found a hole in the floor down to the kitchen. I squated and jumped into the kitchen making the house shake a little bit.
"This is Admiral Murray of the Liberty Freedom Fighters! Show yourself and you will not be harmed!"
Yeah, right. If he saw me he would gut me like a fish. I swung low and ducked low running across the counters in the kitchen to avoid detection. I ran out the back door and towards the ship on the landing pad. That's when I heard yelling from inside and several marines shooting out the windows at the space that I had already passed. Jumped in my ship and erected the shield system. For the first real time I got a good look at an Admiral since I left their group. He wasn't shooting anymore, but he had a deathly glare on his face looking straight at me. I only smiled and saluted him before engaging engines and approaching the escape velocity to escape the planets gravity.
I've lost people who meant the world to me...and I'm still doing just fine. I'm coming for everything they said I couldn't have.
Robert Merlow advanced on the open doorway cautiously, his rail pistol clenched in his right fist.
Senator Scarman? He called into the open quarters. The steam drifting out from the bathroom had almost dissipated, leaving wet patches across the ceiling.
Merlow held up his hand, signaling the HiME agents to hang back. He slowly advanced across the threshold, keeping his pistol aimed at the bathroom door.
If the neural implants embedded in his synapses werent designed to control the flow of adrenaline, Merlow would have jumped out of his skin as the Senator came out of the bathroom. He had a suit jacket over one arm and was scrubbing his head with a towel.
Ah, Admiral? He asked, looking up at Merlow in surprise. I wasnt expecting a visit.
Weve, um. Merlow paused as he looked at the Senator up and down, There have been several breeches in security across the ship, and you need to come with us to a secure location.
The Senator looked across from Robert to the HiME agents standing at the door behind him. He gave them a trusting smile,
Of course, He nodded, Lead away.
As Merlow turned around however, Marcus placed a hand on his shoulder. Just one moment,
Merlow turned around inquisitively, his pistol ready. Yes?
My daughter, Senator Scarman said innocently, She wasnt in my quarters when I got back here. Hannah had left a note saying she had gone to the mess hall looking for her.
Ill instigate a search immediately, Merlow said as they exited the quarters. Senator Scarman pressed his thumb against the locking mechanism and the doorway clicked shut. He then gestured to the Fleet Admiral, After you sir,
Merlow turned around and lead the way down the corridor, the HiME agents flanking the Senator. Something was wrong; somehow he could just sense it.
---
Hurst and Connors crouched low as a squad of Freedom Fighters Marines trotted past them on the other side of the corridor wall. Since they had made sure their Tyrant had made it to the Senators quarters, they had diverted in order to cause as much havoc as possible to help ease their leader slip into his cover role. Their objectives were to make it look like they were attacking major systems on board the Danaan, trying to utterly cripple the ship. Ultimately, they both knew the consequences. They were lightly to be captured and / or killed.
In order to assist their cause, they had used a scattered holographic projection system to confuse the Liberty ships sensors into thinking that there were more than just two of them. They had timed several explosives, several on board the Thunderhawk they had used to sneak on board, to detonate at key times around the Tyrants assassination of his alternate self. The diversion had worked perfectly; the Freedom Fighters were in chaos.
Connors gripped his gauss rifle tightly, grunting at the pain in his knees. He hated confined spaces, especially when he had to share them with someone else and for an extended amount of time. Hurst didnt seem to have any problems; she crouched with her Carbine ready at all times.
We need to be ready to move on soon, She said quietly. Did you plant the next set of explosives?
Affirmative, Connors nodded, Both the transporter rooms are rigged and ready to blow.
Alright, Hurst paused for a moment before opening the grille before them. Blow it,
Connors grinned and retrieved a small palm computer from his belt. He activated it and then thumbed a switch. There was a low crump from somewhere within the depths of the starship.
Alright, lets go. She moved out of the small gap in the wall, turning one way down the corridor. Connors exited after her, turning to face the other way. Just as they came out of the duct in the wall, a squad of six marines jogged around the end of the corridor Connors was facing.
Hurst! He yelled before opening fire with his mighty gauss gun. The long barreled weapon hardly recoiled in his grasp as it spat out shards of metal at an unforgiving rate. The first three marines were knocked down in clouds of their own blood in a matter of nanoseconds. The remaining three barely had time to bring their weapons to bear before the deadly stream of super heated metal debris ripped into their torsos. They keeled over backwards in horrific dances of death as the ammunition ripped into them.
Come on! Hurst yelled, grabbing Connors and sprinting in the opposite direction. Soon enough, alarm klaxons were howling across all decks. Both of the Danaans transporter rooms lay in utter ruin and one of her hangar decks was ruined beyond immediate repair. The two Black Flag Corsairs hoped to create as much havoc as possible before their time was up.
---
Hey Sayne, Marcus is currently on the bridge of the Danaan. I tried to somehow get around that I left him last on the bridge, but I just cant see any ways of doing it. He's currently engaged in explaining things to the Captain of the Agrippa, the native Liberty ship that just arrived. Sorry but that post of yours will have to be altered :(My bad.
Commander, I think it would be better if we met in person. Marcus sighed as the angry face of Sinclair glowered down on him. I can arrange to have you transported over-
A rumble from somewhere beneath the deck silenced the rest of his sentence. The entire bridge rocked, forcing Marcus to grab hold of the command chairs arms to steady himself.
Status report, he said, looking across to the helm.
Two more explosions registered, Ensign Powell reported, Deck five Sir its the transporter rooms, Im reading major power failures throughout their networks and the operation staff arent responding to my calls.
Damn it, Marcus cursed, looking over at the viewscreen. Get an inspection team down there immediately!
Aye sir,
Make it a heavily armed inspection team,
Aye sir,
It looks like well have to postpone our meeting Commander Sinclair, Marcus said to the face of the Liberty Commander looming above him, The Danaan has been breeched, Ill get back to you.
He turned to another young Ensign by the communications console and swiftly ran his finger across his neck, Axe the link.
Sinclairs face disappeared from the viewscreen, replaced by the emblem of the Freedom Fighters.
Where is the Fleet Admiral, Marcus stood up and walked around the command chair.
He last reported in at the guest quarters, my guess is hes leading the Senator to a safer location. Lucas Anderson said from behind Marcus. Anderson had been operating a number of tasks from the bridge since the crisis on board had broken out. In the absence of several of the bridge crew staff, he had taken control of the tactical console. I can patch you through to him,
Make it so, Marcus strode along the bridge until he arrived at the tactical console. A small image of Robert Merlow had appeared on one of the screens.
Admiral, He said, a look of worry across his face.
Sir, the- Marcus began to speak but Merlow raised a hand.
The Black Flag Corsairs have severely crippled the transporter rooms; God knows where their next target will be. Im dispatching a shipwide search for them, full alert. Ill lead it myself.
If you insist Admiral, I can hold things up here. Marcus nodded, The Commander of the Prometheus is getting more suspicious by the minute though, I suspect he intends to organize a boarding party if we dont do something to convince him we are on his side.
Marcus, hell just have to wait, one thing at a time. Im organizing a Sadukar Unit to you, for protection and to ensure the safety of the bridge. Make sure they install proximity sensors across every square inch of the command deck. With that, Merlow cut the link, leaving Marcus with his thoughts.
Alright, battle stations, red alert. Marcus turned around and began shouting orders to the rest of the bridge crew. I want an internal heightened alert, keep all exterior aggression minimal. In other words Lieutenant, keep the gun ports closed!
Lucas remained at the tactical console after Marcus turned to give the crew orders. He was so wrapped up in the displays before him that he didnt notice Kurt Manning silently enter the bridge, looking shifty.
Lucas, He hissed. Lucas!
Anderson turned around irritably and caught the bounty hunters eye. What is it; Im a little busy here!
Lucas, I need your help, everyone else is wrapped up in keeping the ship secure. As he spoke, another miniature explosion rocked the bridge from somewhere down below. Lucas cursed and turned back to the console.
Explosion in astrometrics, he reported out loud, The damn room is a mess.
Patch the security feed through to the main screen, Marcus voice ordered from behind him.
Aye sir, Lucas tapped at the console until a view from the single surviving security strip showed the remainder of the astrometrics lab. The place was a mess of mangled metal and cabling. The walls and the decking were scarred black with plasma burns and the indication of a central explosion at the heart of the room was evident.
Damn, bastards. Marcus growled from the command chair.
Lucas, this is important, I need you now. Kurt whispered intently. Lucas looked at him and then back to the console. He sighed in annoyance and called over a young man in a Freedom Fighter uniform.
Lieutenant Hall, man tactical whilst Im gone, I shouldnt be too long. He got out of his seat and offered it to the young Lieutenant before turning to Manning. This had better be important.
With that and a grin from the insufferable bounty hunter, they both exited the bridge beneath the notice of Admiral Scarman.
Hurst stuck the detonator to the console and began tapping away at the small screen. It hadnt been difficult infiltrating main engineering after the Freedom Fighters had sent their ship into lockdown. Connors was elsewhere, tapping into the communications network in an attempt to scramble and confuse their enemy.
The explosive was half way primed before the bulkhead at the end of the large engine room gantry slid back into its berth and a well dressed Liberty officer entered the room, a whole array of weapons covering his body. He held a pulse rifle in his hands, but that was nothing compared to the arsenal Hurst saw slung across his shoulders. The man held up his palm computer and walked towards the fusion reactor; a large column that stood tall at the centre of the chamber. He seemed to scan it and then scan his surroundings.
Hurst ducked back, hoping that the Freedom Fighter wouldnt see her. She cursed her luck and tried to rush finishing the timer on the explosive. As she moved back towards the console however, she knocked one of the explosives containers by her foot, scraping it across the decking. The sound rang loud and true, echoing throughout main engineering.
Swearing loudly, Hurst stood up and came into full view. The man across from him seemed to be scanning one of the consoles closely. Hurst leveled her pulse rifle and fired two shots at the console. It shattered in a shower of sparks and metal, sending the man staggering backwards. A second volley of fire had the Freedom Fighter diving for cover.
Return fire suddenly lanced across the open space in between the two combatants, turning the air into a superheated frenzy of fire. Several bolts caught the consoles and terminals around Hurst before one lanced through her shoulder. She screamed in pain and dropped her pulse rifle. It clattered to the deck by the discarded explosive canister. She turned around and ducked behind another rack of computers as more fire tore across at her. She grasped the ugly wound at her shoulder with one hand whilst drawing her blaster pistol with the other. Gritting her teeth, she spun around and fired several more shots off to cover her break for the nearest Jeffries tube.
The Freedom Fighter broke cover and ran to her former position. She swore again at the prospect of not finishing the timer on the console. She deftly unclipped a thermal detonator from her belt and flung it across the room towards the enemy. She then ducked through the hatch to her left and entered the Jeffries tube. As the door slid shut, she felt the ripple of the explosion as the detonator exploded. An agonized howl followed the sound of the blast, suddenly cut off by the closing of the doors. Hurst grinned in satisfaction, momentarily forgetting the pain in her shoulder.
As Admiral Wilder picked himself up and cracked his neck experimentally, eight Sadukar Soldiers trotted expertly into the large engineering chamber.
Youre just in time, Wilder said sardonically. He pointed over to the Jeffries tube. Over there, one hostile, shes getting away.
Sir, are you alright. One of the Sadukar units stopped by the Admiral to check his vitals.
Im fine, Wilder brushed him off, still massaging the muscles at the base of his neck. Go on before she gets away.
Sir, The soldier turned and sprinted off after his comrades.
Hurst and Connors met up in front of the door to the VIP Transporter room, reserved for use by the Admiralty and special guests. Hurst looked over Connors, noticing the shot in his shoulder.
"You alright there?" She asked questioningly, drawing another explosive to breech the doors.
"I'll live for the moment." He replied sarcastically.
He injected himself with a little adrenaline, to forget about the pain and focus his reflexes. He locked another magazine in his blaster pistol, wincing from the pain. Hurst placed the explosives on the door and motioned to move away. He nodded, but as they began to walk away, the door slid open. General Thomas Serov stood there, his .45 Liberty Military Pistol-Automatic (LMP-A) raised and pointed at their backs. Beside him stood Seras Victoria, her knives flared from her hands, four in each. Connors spun around and fired his blaster pistol at the duo, sure that his well placed shots would connect before they knew what hit them.
Serov stood firm, not taking any evasive action to the surprise of Connors and Hurst both. In a nanosecond, the two shots connected with his skull, seeming to have killed him. The second bolt hit Seras square in the head, splattering her brains all over the wall behind her. Connors and Hurst smiled as the bodies slumped to the floor. They were sure of victory as they approached the open room, their weapons drawn.
"I'm sorry, we're not quite dead." a voice behind them said. The bodies disappeared before them, their eyes blinked in amazement. Hurst spun around this time, her gauss rifle held at her hip. When she was completely around, Victoria was right behind her. She kicked the rifle from her hands, smashing it against the wall of the hallway. Connors raised his pistol to retaliate, only to have his hand nearly blown off from a burst from Serov's pistol. Hurst, in a bitter rage, lunged at Victoria, a knife in both hands.
To her, the world began to slow down as she focused on the moment ahead. She threw her knives with the force to sever limbs at Hurst's legs. The two knives struck true, cutting through the thick muscle and bone in Hurst's legs. It seemed as though she was falling apart before her, the legs falling cleanly off of her body, a line of blood sprayed on Connors and the wall behind him. Her focus faded, the room seeming to slip back into real time. Hurst fell before her, screaming in agony as blood poured from her legs. The two bloody stumps kicked around fruitlessly, trying to move him on nothing. Connors was frozen, for the first time in his life truly afraid. His comrade, one of the most fearless Black Flag Corsairs literally fell apart in front of him in the blink of an eye.
Serov kept his pistol trained on him, "Stand down. You're finished." he said, "Hand on your head and on your knees." He stood there, completely frozen in fear. Serov aimed his weapon lower, "I'll pop you in the knee if you don't get down." He cooperated silently, astounded. Victoria walked over to Serov, grabbing her knives from the wall, sheathing them. She stepped over Hurst's bled out body.
"Well, that certainly takes care of that." She said, cleaning her knives.
Commander in Chief of the Migrant Fleet / Former Fleet Admiral of the Liberty First Fleet Second Survivor of the Mentat Program. We must give and take with good measure. Give too much, we become complacent. Take too much, we incur the wrath of our own. Tread Lightly. --Supreme Bashar Robert Merlow--
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