The small transport came back with the briefcase. The guards carried it to the captains chambers and placed it upon his desk. The group bowed and saluted, then left. Another group followed them, regular crew members.
"Get this briefcase scanned and secured, then give it back to me."
The captain handed it over to them and they proceeded to leave his chambers. Though one stayed behind. Death Runner nodded to him, and in a quick flash the room went in lock down and a screen appeared on the wall of his office. The screen displayed a plate of food, quickly being devoured by a young man. It then showed an SCRA officer standing beside the young boy, grinning happily.
"Hmpf.. You'd think he would have been executed by now.. Alright well start taking notes. I want a detailed description of absolutely everything that goes on in there. For now i shall accompany you but later I have business to attend to."
The speechless crew member nodded, and pulled out a small, portable mini-terminal and began.
Amber worked at her console like every other member of the ship. After Death Runner left the tension aboard the bridge slowly eased off to be replaced by an almost celabratory attitude. Six hundred million credits was a lot of money and they were sure they could all expect a nice paycheque in the future or at least the possibility of fewer cost cuts on essential materials...
Of course Amber cared very little about the money. It didn't concern her. It wasn't her purpose there. She stretched her arms above her head and watched as the crew visibly relaxed now that their lives were seemingly no longer in imminent danger. The shift change came shortly after for some of the crew and fortunately she was relieved of her station allowing her to make her way back to her quarters.
Upon checking that the coast was clear and doing her usual check for recording devices (She wasn't paranoid, oh no, why would you say that?) she started up her small communicator. She typed out the report slowly using the code key she'd been given before encrypting the message three times and sending it through an untraceable connection back to Kirkwall. It read:
Death Runner's ship was ambushed by Order agents today who were apparently searching for some kind of a 'cure' purpose of the cure and its intended use are currently unknown. In payment for the 'cure' Order agents handed over one 'Jeremy Hunter' who was then sold to the SCRA for a total payment of 600 million credits.
Will advise with more information as it becomes availble.
She sighed and lay down to catch a few hours sleep before she was expected to be working again.
Thomas shrugged, "consider us your cruise line. You will be at your destination soon." He motioned to the small radio room, "There's all the equipment you should need. It's fixed to transmit only to Freeport 6, which will relay and won't reveal our position. So it is quite safe."
With that Thomas made his way forward and into the cockpit, nodding to his co-pilot as he slid into the pilot's seat and took the controls.
A storm relied on an archaic control system of pedals, cyclic, throttle and collective, ensuring that it handled like no other ship in space, ideal for its dual role as combat dropship.
There were ships out there, shadowing them. Thomas was expecting that, he maintained course for the asteroid meeting point, knowing that whoever was tailing the Storm would soon learn to regret it.
"Cruise line? I don't see any hot stewardesses. Throw some hot stewardesses over, then I'll consider this a cruise."
Jeremy got up and stretched out. Pops and cracks were heard. He sighed, messing with his hair. He looked at Thomas.
"Well..."
Jeremy went to the radio room.
Sender: Jeremy Hunter
Destination: Freeport 6
Subject: Me
Relay to: Battleship Isis, Omicron Minor
Send this to Isis, they can send it to the right people.
Message:
To cut down on all the worry and concern I know is being exhibited...our old friends in the glorious Coalition are treating me better than an Outcast. Imagine that. And Michal, I'll be...sait, you never tell me anything. Better not go over the top with disavowing me. Anyways, few people need to hear me.
Golanski:
You best keep your head up. If I get back and find you got shot, I'll drag your ass back and shoot you myself. And you owe me a your of Inquisitor. And keep an,eye on Rika, please; I don't want her doing something rash...please Collister:
I corraled over a hundred pilots from you when you were in the Navy. Mind making us even? God, seems like yesterday I blackmailed the Fall River... Erik:
Watch the family. You know them well. Ellie:
Do keep Seth under control, mkay? He'll probably try and hijack the Oathkeeper. Izzy:
I love you. Rika:
It's not your fault. Now stop having a heart attack. I'll see you soon kiddo. Promise.
Jeremy turned to Thomas.
"Well, any way they can find my location through this?"
Jeremy's voice dripped sarcasm at Thomas. Treat him nice and all, he still was a prisoner. He was a defiant bastard.
Thomas shook his head. "By the time that message reaches the Isis, we will already be at our destination."
He looked a little sad at the thought, walking back and keying a code into a weapons locker, sliding the slats up to reveal the rack of assault rifles and pistols.
"I know you Order types like your blasters, ray guns and other fun things... but in the Coalition we keep things simple. Not much can go wrong with a chemical propelled ballistic weapon." he pulled out a sleek, drum loaded bullpup weapon, sighting down the barrel and quickly switching the drum magazine, pulling back the bolt with a satisfying click-clack.
"It's important that you familiarize yourself with one of these, where you are going. I have orders from General Alvarez himself to ensure that you have a fighting chance where you are going. That means giving you a gun, and teaching you how to use it."
He spun the rifle in his hands and demonstrated the scope.
"Full optics, semi and fully automatic modes... though if you are going to use the latter. Short bursts, and aim for the stomach... you'd be surprised at how fast one of these can chew through a magazine."
He ejected the magazine, and tossed the rifle over to Jerry.
"It's a good gun, reliable and it works. Not what you are used to, I am sure. But at the very least... you might be able to affix an escape... well, you can try."
He turned back to the rack and pulled out a .60 assualt pistol, "favourite of the Commissars, this one. Will take a man's head clean off at close range. Though... not all that useful where you are going. Good back up weapon for you to fight your way back to the rifle you should never have let go of in the first place."
He nodded, "Do you require body armour? Or have a preference for anything else?"
The intercom beeped, "Captain we're docking now."
"Well, guess the time is up, either way. I told you it wouldn't be long. Keep your head down, and keep moving, son. Shoot things before they can shoot you, and pray you last long enough to make it out alive." Thomas stepped back and shrugged.
"And for the record, when all this is over, I want you to find the nearest Order Admiral and slug them in the face. Damn idiots should never have stolen those artifacts from us, and should never have dissolved our Alliance... we were better friends than we are enemies. Damn fools."
Jeremy looked at the rifles and took one down. He expertly disected it, then reassembled it.
"I stick with thermal clip weapons. Screw lasers. And if you got anything close to a sword."
He shook hix head at the offer of armor.
"No. Armor will restrict my movement."
Jeremy tapped his crown necklace, then cracked his knuckles. He sighed. He patted a pocket and a picture. Taking a moment to look at it, he returned it to its pocket. He stood, and, despite his downcast appearance, his eyes were alive with an eternal fire.
"I have been impaled by a sword whose length,is your height, whose thickness is an inch, and whose width is your chest. I fell ten stories and almost died."
Thomas nodded, leading the way through the ship and down to the cargo bay, the ramp sliding down on its great pistons onto what looked like stone.
He stepped aside and gestured towards a metal door far ahead.
"Good luck Colonel Hunter, and I sincerely hope you survive," with that he lifted a radio and spoke into it. "Let them know that we have delivered the individual in question, and that we have armed him as specified. We are departing."
//ooc Tag Shagohad, he's delivered, with a bow on.
Thomas waved from the ramp as the gunboat thrusted into the air on a burst of its VTOL jets, the ramp closing as the Coalition Captain walked back inside, heading for the second rendezvous where the payment of the delivery was due.
The two crates were floating exactly where they were supposed to be, as the Social Credit tractored them aboard, fading like a shadow into cloak as it sped off to rejoin the two escort ships that had been steadily stalking it. Streaking back towards Omega-52, its mission accomplished.
The Storm sped away from the rare vessel, not intent on staying so near to an entity that held such alien power. Slowly, the ornate craft swiveled and disappeared into the nameless nebula that dominated the system. This sector was not charted or heavily explored; leaving most of its features nameless aside from the few planets that had been given designations for future surveying. The nebula itself held a bizarre property that effected all electrical signals coming to and from vessels within the spatial body. Only advanced senses could be relied on.
Within the hangar bay, the young Order officer would survey an elaborate cavern with stone-like walls. Etched into them are alien symbols that glow with a cool blue light. Four Kusaran fighters, their model type or allegiance discernible in the soft light, sit a few meters to the right, hooked up to the ship by a numerous quantity of power cables.
A large door opens up, a brighter light flooding through to outline a thin figure. "Jeremy Hunter," a voice from the figure says, echoing around the cavernous room, "You are a guest of your most hated foes." The figure steps forward, his features showing that he is in fact armored in a skin-tight suit, entirely featureless. The helmet that dons his head holds a mask with numerous eyes on the side of the mask. There is no sign that this being is armed.
"Welcome, Hunter, to the home of Tekagi's Remnant."
"THE HULL HAS BEEN BREACHED AND THESCIENCEIS LEAKING OUT!"
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