Our plan, I must admit, wasn't a good one. Leaving our Zones of Interest almost unguarded would soon be paid for dearly. We decided, that the strike on Rheinland forces should be led by the Brotherhood forces, while the rest of the Corsairs stays guarding our homes. And I would like you to take over the command of Planet Crete defense, if you're not against. This also should prevent any possible arguments regarding SCRA relations. I am aware that our current alliance with them now isn't accepted very well among the rest of the Corsairs.
Please don't take any of the said accusations personally, we were just trying to figure out what was true as some of the information came from unreliable sources. I hope your family issues get sorted out soon and maybe you will be able to join us on our way through Rheinland.
We are not suitably armed and yet we paid the price of blood in Rheiland system. LDDLG faction lost many young pilots and vessels in the first part of the battle. My vessel "Cixi" was totally destroyed, myself, i was seriously wounded and my support of survival comes just to be discovered, wandering in New Berlin system. I escaped from the capture, which explains my delay with this council.
To avoid a new blood bath, I ask you to allow us to become on our system, to protect Gamma and to finish our preparations. To this end, we will multiply the raids on Cambridge, to form with the combat, under real conditions, our new recruits.
We need four to five days to prepare us, before joining our brothers corsairs to fight in Rheiland system.
8B@ll out
[LDDLG]-Cixi- Raven Talon
[LDDLG]-8B@ll- Gunboat
[LDDLG]-Voodoo- Bomber
And with that Juan Montoya walked out of the bar. As he was walking on the path towards the Elders council chambers, he composed a message in his mind, what he felt honestly. He then thought of who to send it too. Not the brothers he knew so well, they weren't to blame. They didn't need to hear his words.
It was the independent Corsairs who needed to listen, and listen they would. His course was set, his direction true. Nothing would stop him.
Quote:Comm ID: Juan Montoya
To: All Corsairs, SCRA, and TBH Elders but EXCLUDING other TBH brothers.
Now, I have observed from afar, not taking any action to compromise my position as an Elder, but enough is enough. You will ALL bow down to the power of the Brotherhood. Time and again we have tried to keep the peace in Gamma, only for our friends to be shot. It causes instability, and I will eliminate this instability completely. I don't give a damn anymore about the rights of the individual Corsair. All Corsairs will respect the absolute power of TBH rule, diplomacy, and actions. If any of you slip up even once, you will be unwelcome within the rest of the Corsair continuum.
All of you rebellious pilots soil our name, or what was left of it. I have tried to be nice, to let you learn from your mistakes. But, enough is enough. If you will not fall in line when you see me being nice, you are tempting the devil. And I have been tempted. I have restrained, until now.
Fall in line, independents, or operate on battlestation Cadiz, battleship Fes or with our allies. If you will not fall in line through these measures, you are not fit to be Corsair. I am sick of the careful diplomacy we set up being destroyed by your rash actions. I am tired by the unseen powers of this world stripping you of your craft and equipment. I am tired of putting up with this. No more. Never again. I am hereby authorising the pilots of the Coalition to open fire if any hostilities are provoked, verbal or physical in any sense. Dont like it? Dont speak to them!
If you are not with us, you are against us. This is my decision alone, and I will be stopped by no one. I will sort you out, or kill you all with my own hands.
Corsair tradition be damned, I will do this myself, by myself. It is the only way to sort this out. I have tried being nice, and now I will be nasty. If I see one step out of line this weekend, I will destroy your craft myself, over and over again until you go away never to return. None of you will be spared my wrath.
I have been broken.
Prepare to be broken.
End Transmission.
***
Crete is still at night. Most nights only the soft rumbling of take-off thrusters on the landing pads around the planet stir anything, even the slightest whisper.
This landing was not soft.
The entire bar room shook at the approaching Titan, so low in the atmosphere. The Titan landed on dry ground with no anti-grav support so the entire craft looked like it had been knocked over. A gaunt looking Corsair jumped out of the cockpit and landed heavily on the floor of Crete, dusty, yet shimmering. He reached up and removed something stone-black from his cargo hold, the man quickly picked up walking speed. From a distance he looked as though he carried some sort of long rectangular parcel and a single white sheet of paper. The man walked quickly to a semi-circle building and entered into a hallway, leading to a door with two guards posted in front. He walked quickly and importantly up to the guards, who promptly asked for identification and business.
Setting his parcel down, he allowed one guard to try and guess how to open it and distracted the other with his Brotherhood badge. He took the opportunity to stick both guards quickly with a syringe containing a powerful anesthesia, they quickly fell asleep. He stopped, breathed in a long intake at what he just did, exhaled and searched the guards, finding the keys to the council chambers. He unlocked the door and kicked it open with a loud *BANG*.
"Juan Montoya!" Lucendez shouted into the almost empty room. A figure stood up and the two Juans looked at each other. It had been somewhat ironic that they hadn't had much time to get to know each other. The room he had just entered was comfortable, with paintings of all the Elders that came before the current ones, looking down at the room, some paintings seemed depressed or sad, others smiling.
Lucendez set his black parcel down, said "there will be no bloodshed here, I simply wish to talk," and held up a copy of the message Montoya had sent out to all independent Corsairs.
"The thirteen saloons that had lined the one street of Seney had not left a trace. The foundations of the Mansion House hotel stuck up above the ground. The stone was chipped and split by the fire. It was all that was left of the town of Seney. Even the surface had been burned off the ground.
Nick looked at the burned-over stretch of hillside, where he had expected to find the scattered houses of the town and then walked down the railroad track to the bridge over the river. The river was there."
There should have been guards at the door. This was not the time. In such a short space of time, Montoya had become so aggravated about the whole situation of diplomacy. It was always the independent hotheads giving the rest of the Corsairs a bad name. Nothing had been done until now. He was sure of doubt arising within the Brotherhood of his actions, which was presumably why Lucendez was standing in front of him.
There was always one who wanted to talk.
And possibly many more with a gun behind their back.
"I expected as much brother. The sanctity of the council chambers has been disturbed by your entrance, as have the ancient door hinges."
Montoya paused as he composed his thoughts.
"I know why you have come. You have come to discuss what I am in the process of doing to all the Corsairs. You may speak your mind in any way you wish, but I will not be stopped."
His gaze shifted to the black parcel on the ground, and pointed with his left index finger.
When Montoya said "hinges" Lucendez jumped and looked at the door. Yeah, he didn't mean to damage the door, but he needed to talk to Montoya privately. He moved forward with no regrets.
"That, is one of the few personal possessions that I have." Lucendez said. He picked up the box and laid it length-wise on a table. The black box was roughly a meter long and didn't look as though it had an up or down. Lucendez put his thumb to a random spot, the box read his fingerprint and formed a seam along the middle, opening slowly revealing some sort of sword in a scabbard lying in foam.
"This is what the Kusari call a "Katana". For some strange reason they prefer these ancient weapons to guns. I never really understood why, but a friend did, a very good friend loved these things." He took the black scabbard and held it for a minute, then held it out to Montoya. The Corsair Elder took the handle and pulled the sword out. The blade was beautiful, golden characters were etched in a metallic lattice that danced to the firelight. But, as he pulled the sword out, it felt unbalanced. The sword had been broken along the mid-section and was jagged at the end.
"My good friend used the most advanced tempering techniques available back then to craft this. What the Kusari lack in metals they make up for in the strongest alloys known to man. That sword could have been thrown through a star and survived. How does a mere human break such an indestructible piece of metal?"
Lucendez took a seat and sat with his legs cross, staring at his Elder. "Before you answer realize that you hold the only weapon that I have brought into this chamber and that I am not attempting to stop you, quite the contrary. I agree with the ends, but not with the means." He stopped, and waited for his response.
"The thirteen saloons that had lined the one street of Seney had not left a trace. The foundations of the Mansion House hotel stuck up above the ground. The stone was chipped and split by the fire. It was all that was left of the town of Seney. Even the surface had been burned off the ground.
Nick looked at the burned-over stretch of hillside, where he had expected to find the scattered houses of the town and then walked down the railroad track to the bridge over the river. The river was there."
The sword was beautiful; it possessed some of the most unique and elegant patterns he had ever seen, they even surpassed the beauty of the best artifacts he had seen in his time.
The two thirds of the Katana in Montoya's hand was surprisingly light, if unbalanced. He swung with it, giving it a wide berth from Lucendez, who was containing a smile at how the sword appeared to lighten Montoya's mood. Juan Montoya swung the sword a few times and brought it to his side, and began to speak, in a much less aggressive tone than just earlier.
"How do I suppose a mere human broke this sword? If it is as strong as you say, then I do not see how a human could break one.
In fact, I do not understand your analogy to this sword fully, but I think I understand in simple terms. You think I am being too hard on the young ones and that I am going to break them, and therefore the whole Corsair Empire completely if I do things this way?"
Montoya paused as Lucendez' mouth opened to respond.
He closed his mouth, his thought not complete. Inhaling through his nose, he got up and paced on the floor of the chamber. His shadow reflected on the tables and chairs as he paced. Lucendez came to a stop.
"A sword like that can not be broken by a single blunt force. No laser or plasma beam may sear through it. And it can not even be chipped by coming into contact with another of it's kind. But the sword has one weakness. Small amounts of pressure, over a great amount of time will weaken the blade to the point that even flesh and bone can snap it like a toothpick."
Juan Lucendez turned and paced back to Montoya. He reached into his flight suit. Montoya braced for a gun but a folded booklet of paper came out instead. He spread it on a nearby table. Montoya looked at the sheets.
Quote:History of the Brotherhood
There are a lot of fellowships among the Corsairs. The Brotherhood proudly claims to be one of the oldest ones. <strike>We are a militant group of radical Corsairs who prefer to achieve their goals by force than by using diplomatic ways as the diplomacy has repeatedly proven to be useless and leads to corruption rather than to its intended goals.</strike>
<strike>Brothers of the Brotherhood are all equal. There are no titles, no ranks, no supremacy, no officialties. We help each other, learn from each other and treat each other as a brother.</strike> We try to avoid the personal pride from staying between us. Not that we are not proud, but we are proud to be the members of the Brotherhood.
The Brotherhood is led by a group of older and skilled Corsairs, the Elders. They are the most respected ones among the rest of brothers, but once they get too old, they optionally step aside and let the younger ones take their place. The word of the Elder is a rule and is always obeyed.
Our sworn enemies are the Outcasts (in the first place), Bretonians and Rheinlanders. We take every chance to fight them but this is not the only way to make them weaker. The other way is piracy. The more traders we pirate, the less profit they bring to their houses. And hunting a Cardamine smuggler has always higher priority, then hunting an ordinary trader. However if you spot a smuggler with load of Alien Artifacts, or a trader bringing resources to our home system, it's suggested to leave them alone.
"So, how many liberties are we prepared to sacrifice in the name of security? Our enemies can not destroy us with brute force, our forefathers saw to that," Lucendez panned his hand around the room, "but we can be destroyed from within. Yes, I think we should exert power over those in Gamma. BUT, the fact that the SCRA are involved to such a degree worries me. The simple fact that a member of their military is an Elder worries me. I know Ares is your friend and I believe you when you say he is not a traitor, but the simple facts remain. That sword was broken because my good friend believed he was invincible. That sword simply reminds me that strong things can be broken over time."
His rant ended, he slumped down into a plush chair. His brown eyes reflected firelight and his hands hung loosely over the armrests. The weight was off Lucendez's chest and he inhaled once more and exhaled heavily. He looked at Montoya for a response.
"The thirteen saloons that had lined the one street of Seney had not left a trace. The foundations of the Mansion House hotel stuck up above the ground. The stone was chipped and split by the fire. It was all that was left of the town of Seney. Even the surface had been burned off the ground.
Nick looked at the burned-over stretch of hillside, where he had expected to find the scattered houses of the town and then walked down the railroad track to the bridge over the river. The river was there."
Having felt the tremor of Lucendez's landing, Skyelius walked towards the stairs, looked out through a ledge outside of the bar, and noticed the syringes on Brother Juan's belt. He knew what he was up to. Sky ran through the hallways of the living quarters, opened his room's door with a slam and pressed a combination of numbers on the door's keypad. Instead of locking the door, a small junction opened in the floor. It was a hidden locker. He opened it quickly, and took an old piece of 'paper'. That ancient piece of writing was given to him by Elder Cuevas, who had died a few years ago. It wouldn't be detected by the internal sensors due to the material it was written on. The young pilot ran a bit, until he came into the restroom in one of the buildings. He looked at the pad, and punched one of the walls in the pattern the escritos indicated. Shortly after he made his last punch, a 'thud' sound was heard behind the wall. The room's door locked and the wall opened briefly. He walked through and head over to the end of the passage. It was connected to several of the the walls behind the Elders' cuartos. He followed the voices and they led to him behind one of the paintings in the room where Elder Montoya was living. The holes were too small for him to look at, but then all he needed was to listen. He heard a metal sound, as when a sword is unsheathed. It reminded him of his grandfather, the training he got as a boy. Then he wiped off the sweat in his face, and kept listening.
"This is what the Kusari call a Katana", Lucendez's voice was strange. He'd always seen him speak as if it were to himself, Sky thought. He now seemed to be acting as if he were on top of a stage, about to speak to an entire crowd of spectators, and that concerned him a lot.
After having heard what he needed to hear, and sensing insecurity on Montoya's voice, Skyelius made his way back to his quarters. He broke a piece of the paper and looked in the locker for a pen. He finished writing, stood up and looked at the door. He ran and punched it with all his strength. His fist became red, but he felt no pain.
"I must be used to pain already. I hope they can see it before it's too late, but then again I'll know if they're really like that, won't I?"
Those last words to himself made him smile, but at the same time his eyes trembled a bit. He closed them, and held back one of his tears. Soon the sadness inside of him started to turn into anger, and he walked towards the bar. He left the paper in Pedro Alonso's hand, along with a one million credit card. Alonso was astonished, but the pilot had told him what to do. He read the paper and saw Sky's handwriting in it.
The message was written in Spanish: "Cuarenta horas... eso es todo lo que puedo hacer. Ya he decidido, mis hermanos. Ahora decidan ustedes"
"It is a cold universe until you know God as your Father, and then it becomes a home. Even the next life simply becomes the Father's house, home."
—David Pawson
Sky was sitting in his Titan's cockpit, reviewing the logs of all his battles as a member of The Brotherhood. It was sad. He knew they would not be bien with so much recent losses, and that gave him another headache.
"Damn, I feel so sick", he said. And headed back towards the bar to grab a glass of water.
Upon taking the first few steps our of the ship, he heard a beep. He checked his Brotherhood comms device, and suddenly gasped. It was the will of an old friend. Skyelius, for the first time in a long time, dropped to his knees almost too harshly. It was his old friend, one for a moment he thought was alive. Then he kept on reading. By the time he was done, he felt another pain in his chest. This time he couldn't hold back his tear.
"Maniaco...", he said softly.
He dropped to the ground, lying on the landing pad's floor and stared at the stars in the night sky of Crete.
"It is a cold universe until you know God as your Father, and then it becomes a home. Even the next life simply becomes the Father's house, home."
—David Pawson
As Montoya prepared his response mentally, he felt the vibration of his communication device and automatically picked it up. Lucendez did the same, and both listened.
At first, both thought he was alive, but as they listened on, their expression hardened. Both were left wondering, as the message ended, why it had taken so long for his last transmission.
Montoya begun pacing around the room with his right hand holding his chin, in thought.
Finally he said, quietly.
"Pedro... how I wish this transmission had been earlier... I am a fool... thankyou."
Despite the quietness of his voice, Lucendez heard it clearly in the hall. Stunned by the transmission, Lucendez's gaze just followed Montoya around the room, until his target stopped, facing away from Lucendez. The eerie quiet of the hall was again replaced by Montoya's voice.
"You know, Juan, that is the only person I listen to any more. Pedro Maniaco. I knew him well enough, but not well enough it seems. He has shown me, with this last message, what I should have been doing this whole time. Instead, in...panic, I have been doing the opposite. I will fulfill his last wishes if it is the death of me. Juan Lucendez, we must call all the Elders here right now to discuss this. I was a fool. Not any more."
Montoya turned to face Lucendez, and continued.
"Take a seat anywhere you please whilst I send transmissions to Farquar, Raul, Joe and Skye. In fact...what do you think we should do, Elder?"
