Offworld offer

[Astera]

The cloak pulled back, she sat, legs crossed, arm draped casually over the back of the bench. Her face, an expressionless mask, revealed nothing. Her eyes were the only signs of life in the shell of the thin opifex woman…fierce, proud and determined.

Over the years, she’d become an extension of the war, carrying it out in countless covert operations and even direct action, which rarely made the front page of any news gridfeed.

She often felt that emotion got in the way of the designs on how the war would end. Love had come and gone, life came and went and she almost ignored every bit of it for a ling time. She was contented however… The Black Company focused inwardly on itself and their alliance. That alone was the greatest gift she could have.

Then, something happened.

Incoming Message

Decoding…

My daughter,

We need to see you. It is urgent. We’ve secured transportation via private shuttle from the Morning Star Space Station for you. Please come to us. The itinerary and contacts are attached.

-Dad

Message end

Someone passed close, stirring her from the memory of that communication. Shaking herself from the dream and looking up at the time, ”Another hour…” she mumbled to herself, waiting on the transport.

The Lieutenant stood proudly as she walked to him.

“Lieutenant, you’ve performed better than I could have dreamed. You are here-by promoted to Captain until the time I can come back.”

Reaching out, she handed him a black leather-bound book…a marking string denoting a new chapter in The Black Company leadership. A tear almost welled up as he grasped the book tightly while snapping a salute.

Leaning in close, her words came in a whisper, “I’ll be back soon, Captain. Take care of the Company.”

Smiling with sincerity, he whispered back, “Take your time, Captain. Everything will be fine.”



“Ms. Gorslin!” he yelled from across the hangar, drawing a few looks from the Omni in the area. Looking up, a short fat solitus man came into view suddenly, wiping sweat from his balding head with a cloth and waving it, waddling towards her.

Glancing up from the memory, she stood quickly, closed the distance with a single stride and put a finger to her full lips signaling for him to be quiet. He blushed a deep red and before apologizing she whispered, “Don’t yell my name here…” letting the threat hang.

The tone and inner tension must have been more harsh than she’d intended because he tensed and looked like he was about to start trembling. He was in a dangerous place, the realization came to him apparently. Stammering, trying to find the words he spoke, “I hadn’t…I mean… I didn’t want…”

She snapped at him, flustering him even more. “Where is the shuttle? Point if you can’t talk!”

Raising a pudgy hand, he pointed to a door. With another glance around, she started off towards the door and quickly into the shuttle behind. Entering the lavish ship she made her way around quickly, surveying the rooms. Cockpit, three private suites and a common area on this floor of the two storied vehicle.

Turning as he entered, her stern glare melted into a smile. “I’m sorry about that, Sir. I didn’t mean to frighten you but it’s not wise to go shouting the name of a rebel clan leader…especially one that supports Simon Silverstone.”

He seemed to consider the name a moment then relaxed with a smile growing on his face, “Of course, Ms. Gorslin.”

“Call me Taren.”

“Oh!” the man suddenly stated, “I am your fathers research partner…”

“Robert Markovich…” She interrupted, “graduated from Mars Institute of technology ((MIT :P )) with highest honors on a full grant from Sol Banking. You met my father in Jobe while researching the Widowmaker drone and became fast friends. My mother than worked with you on finding and fixing complications with symbiants that reacted with the use of metaphysical nano-technology. Should I go on?”

“No, I believe that certainly covers some of the best years of research I’ve had.” He smiled. “How do you know so much about me?”

“My parents haven’t been so secretive lately. I’ve finally been able to get information on them with relative ease.” She replied, looking around some more.

“Ah yes, we’ve had some concerns about security with this new contractor.” He looked down, shaking his head.

“Don’t take what I’m saying wrong, it took some hacking beyond my abilities. I had to hire someone to do it. Once we found you three, it was easy after that.”

The man smiled softly and ended, “Well Ms. Taren, might we get going then? It will be a long trip. We will be heading to a small ICC-run moon not far from here. A neutral meeting place for different things and as with all ICC governed areas,..”

“It’s not very safe?..” she joked.

“Yes, correct. Our contractor, however, has implored us to stay there.” The man sighed.

A few moments of idle conversation about some of the alien technology she kept on herself kept the Engineer fascinated. Suddenly three figures entered the shuttle and without so much as a pause, she was on her feet, hands resting comfortably on the machine pistols concealed beneath the trench coat.

The lead figure was a tall, heavily muscled solitus with a square jaw and perpetual stubble. His green eyes and black hair matched the highlights of his charcoal cloak, which was opened slightly, a smile edging the corner of his lips as his hand relaxed, moving from the weapon concealed beneath.

“I take it, you’re Taren.” His deep voice rumbled off of the walls.

She nodded the reply and relaxed her own hands as Mr. Markovich stood between the two of the, hands making a shooing gesture to the two guards behind the towering man.

The other two solitus complied and moved off to a table near the back of the common area.

“This is Mr. Ieyvan Samuelson, head of the security detail attached to our trip. The other two…” Taren glanced over at the others, already playing a card game. “…are Bones and Charlie.” They both looked up, nodded and continued their card game.

The rumbling voice spoke again, “Taren, we’ve completed a sweep of the ship, in and out, for bombs and tracking devices. Our passenger list and destinations are fake and will throw off any followers. Is that okay with you?” A wink ended the statement.

With a shrug to the engineer, she looked up at the monolith and said “Sounds good to me..” returning his wink with an icy glare.

He didn’t get the point.



((I started this story while in Houston waiting to get back and survey the damage from Katrina. AO withdrawls are hard to deal with. :P ))

[Fixerben]

((Nice MIT joke! And a nice little story.))

[Astera]

((Thanks ))

Seven days of winks and other underlying gestures by the mountainous man was beginning to get on her nerves. Mr. Markovich one day announced happily that they were going to be there in a few hours, much to Tarens delight. Not many places to hide bodies on this ship.

The shuttle began to shake as they entered the terraformed atmosphere and soon, Taren found herself looking wistfully out of a small monitor as the city came into view. Not unlike Borealis but with buildings from different corporations nestled into this city which was easily the size of Omni-Ent and Old Athen together.

The engineer informed her that this was sort of a layover point for people coming and leaving from Rubi Ka. A lot of shipping agencies, huge shuttle ports and lots of ICC personnel inhabited the city, along with the people who came to fight in the war or seek the power that Rubi Ka held for its citizens.

The shuttle flew past massive structures with corporate symbols emblazoned proudly on them and over small poverty-stricken areas the poor people who got here but didn't have enough credits to continue.

Landing proved to be a bit more difficult and the five anxious people nearly ran over each other to get their feet on solid ground again.

The hangar was a massive common room filled with ports for different ships and because it was so late, there were very few people around.

The security team on the ship secured the area and began leading the two passengers to a customs area. Taren found herself looking at the massive chrome and plassteel structure when she nearly ran into a young man, a massive bag slung over his shoulder and a shirt with a bold OTAF emblem on the chest. Before she could control herself, the word, "Sheep" came out.

"Excuse me?" the young man asked.

Now she was committed to explaining the insult, "Sheep. You'll hear that a lot if you're going to Rubi Ka."

"Oh yeah?!" his voice raised and his bag dropped, drawing attention from the ICC guards in the area, sending them their way.

The officers arrived and quickly broke up the disturbance just as a heavy hand dropped like a stone on to her shoulder, sending her spinning around to come face to chest with the walking wall of an enforcer.

“If we don’t get moving, we’ll never get through customs.” He rumbled, his hand sliding slowly off of her shoulder sending waves of resigned hatred through her.

After a quick search of their bags and the questioning of the Machine Pistols origin by an overly happy customs agent, they were allowed to pass through to a Whoompa station run by Omni Trans for the ICC.

Moving through several of them, the enforcer began to slow his walk, letting Taren catch up and the other two security guards lead the way. He spoke to her about places to watch out for and other places…like where his apartment was and the convenient bar located next to it.

Walking through several well-lit streets, out of the corner of her eye stood a man who was staring but not being very obvious about it. Turning her head towards him, he gave her an almost imperceptible nod, turned and walked off. …But not before she’d snapped a dozen pictures of him, registered his information and retrieved a small biography. He seemed to be nothing more than a city worker…but a well trained one. Shrugging, she assumed that he’d come from Rubi Ka to get away from the war after achieving a security level of 200.

“Got it?” the talking mountain asked. He was still talking apparently.

She hadn’t been paying attention really but gave a nod just as he handed her a map to upload. Rolling her eyes at the lateness of the map and being more than lost already she uploaded it quickly and studied it while the enforcer continued to talk.

What felt like a mile later the group arrived at the entrance to a towering apartment structure. The guards ushered the two of them into a lobby bigger than the Council of Truth building. Studying the place, she felt that she was in more of a museum than a living complex. Real wooden chairs and flowers were everywhere. Tables and sofas were set around a huge fireplace and artwork from some of the same artists on Rubi Ka lined the walls.

It seemed that the clerks were used to guards leading people in because they avoided eye contact with Taren and the Engineer but looked directly at the guards securing the area. Suddenly, two servants appeared out of nowhere and took their bags for them. The servants then ushered the group to a private elevator where the monolithic enforcer stopped them and let Taren and the Engineer in first, followed by the security team and then the two servants.

Inserting a key card then typing a code, the elevator went up to a private floor and arrived with a ding. The enforcers then went down the hall where only three doors were visible, each of them spread very far apart from each other.

Anxiety took hold of her at this point. She had never heard her dad sound so urgent in her life. That communication more than a week ago had her worried.

The servant knocked on a huge set of double doors and a quick retina scan followed. The doors opened quietly as Taren pushed through the crowd to see her mother and father standing in the middle of this palatial apartment smiling.

Years of controlled emotion were broken at that point. She hadn’t seen them in over two years. A lump welled up in her throat and tears began to flow as she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around both of them tightly.

[steelyglint]

As per his favorite habit, The Leftenant sat high in a tree over looking His captains departure point. He had followed her there with out her knowlege, just to make sure she wasnt walking into a trap, and if she was, he could call for backup straight away.. Once he had seen her enter the terminal and greet her escort, he had gotten out of there before being spotted, and retreated to the tree.

Unusually for him though he sat in human form, rather than as a sabertooth, his helmet was off letting the cool evening breeze flow over his scalp, makeing his large pink mohawk sway from side to side. In his hands he held 2 pips to be added to his uniform to designate him as a captain and the Leather bound book of the Company. His knuckles were white from how tightly he was holding them, as he scanned the hangars doorway for his Captains departing shuttle.

After about ten minuites of waiting, the Shuttle rose lazily through the giant hanger door, hovered for a moment or two, then acelerated off into the sky. His gaze followed it untill it dissapeared from view. He silently wished his captain godspeed and luck in getting past the alien blockade

Turning his view from the sky to his hands, he was surprised at the tightness of his grip on the objects. Forceing himself to relax, he placed the book in his lap, and stared at the pip's in his hand. Astera's words Rang through his head. "You Are here by promoted to Captain".

Captain, he muttered to Himself, but somehow the word just didnt feel right to him. He had come to Rubi-ka as a solder, his only reason to kill omni's. Not to be a leader. Putting the pip's in a pocket He focused on the beautifly leather bound book. For a long time, he had always wanted to get his hands on it and read what the previous Captains had written. Now that he had it, he no longer wanted it. He ran his hands over the cover. The book tempted him. "Open me" it spoke to him. "Open me and begin your chapter".

He considered it for a moment but shrugged it away. if anyone should of been starting a new chapter it should of been albanis, who had gone mia, or kitty who had been perma-killed by That dammed omni-pol General. His rage flared up for a moment. Fate can be cruel.

The Leftenant struggled with his emotions for a long time.He wished his Captain was still here, His mentor and freind. Her advice was always wise and practical. He felt that he needed some advice about now.

To take his mind off things for a moment, He quickly compiled a list of thing he had to immediatly do. Then He looked at the book again. the decision was in the end a simple one.

He would lead, reluctantly, but he would lead. He would not put the pips on. Failing the Captain was not an option, But the time for a new chapter was not yet. Opening his aincient container, he placed the leather book in a little side compartment for safe keeping along with the Captains pips.

The leftenant took a deep breath, put the container back on his back, and left his spot in the tree to go and adress the company and inform those who needed informing of the situation.

The book remained unread.

Leftenant Steelyglint

General of The Black Company.

[Astera]

“. Your message sounded so grave.” Was all she could mutter between sobs.

A few moments of hugs and she stepped back to look at them. Their hair had more gray but other than that, they hadn’t really changed.

Her dad made a motion with his hand and all of the guards left the room. Taren sat with her mother just holding her hand until her father returned. Looking up at him, he shook hands with the other engineer and offered sincere thanks for bringing his daughter back.

“Taren,” her mother began, “I am sorry that we couldn’t offer more information. It’s been years since we’ve seen or even contacted each other…” she looked up at Syrith Gorslin as he sat on a glass coffee table in front of them. Looking back at Taren, her own eyes filled with sadness. “We’re leaving this moon in a few weeks and we’ll head to Mars and retire.”

Her face must have been in complete shock because her mother reached up and stroked her hair.

“We know that you lead a clan but it is our hope that you will come back to us and give up this war. We’ve lost one of our children already and Xiaojian seems to be less active lately. We don’t want to lose you, Taren.”

Taren felt as if she’d been slapped. An end? The thought hit her hard. Peace… an end… so readily available. A simple “yes” could end this war and begin to heal the pain and frustration. A “yes” would change her life forever.

“Stay with us a few weeks, my love. If you don’t go with us, at least we’ll have some time together,” her father spoke, reaching out and putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Mom…Dad… I don’t know how to answer that. It’s unfair to the Clans, my clan, my friends and the others who depend on me to continue fighting and try to finish this war.” She stared at the floor while speaking.

“Think about it, Taren. Stay with us for a few weeks.”

A day passed and they recounted many of their stories and personal problems about the war and how it had affected each of them.


-----------------------------------------

“Our contractor wants to meet you, Taren,” her father said as he walked in the door that evening. “Want to go to dinner with them?”

They didn’t have to go far to meet the people. Walking down the hall just outside of their apartment, a hidden elevator was open and waiting.

The elevator opened directly into a foyer and through the door was arguably the largest living space she’d ever seen. It was easily twice the size of the meeting area in the headquarters of The Black Company but with finer decorations and what seemed to be a servant for every mundane task to be thought of. They scurried around the area with plates to set the tables, freshening drinks for the five of them and two were there for anything they might need done at that moment.

The older solitus couple seemed to like her mother and father very much. They spoke more like friends than employer and employee. They also wanted to know everything about Taren and the war, the shadowlands and even the alien menace.

She felt more like of an attraction than a daughter after going through the endless questions. She eventually began getting information on them. They were independent of the ICC and running a communications conglomerate and even claimed that their forces were the ones to restore communications to Rubi Ka when the aliens invaded. …Common knowledge was that the elite Unicorn Company had done that.

The couple seemed more sinister all of a sudden to her.

They sat to eat, continuing their conversation…

“Oh that war has been going on for years, Ms. Taren. How do you think you can finish it? Even on this moon we know that the clans are no more organized than a pile of broken glass.” The older woman arrogantly spoke.

Several more blatant insults followed about how greedy the clans really were and they have no legitimate concerns now that they stole the north from Omni Tek.

Knuckles white from squeezing the edge of the table Taren replied, “Out of respect for my mother and father, I won't answer that the way I want to…”

Her parents exchanged concerned looks as she stood and leaned on the massive table looking at the couple. “I’ll be taking my leave now. Thank you for the meal but I will be damned if I am going to sit here and put up with this just because my parents work for you. It is very obvious that you’ve never set foot on Rubi Ka because if you did, you would change your minds very quickly.”

With that, she turned and left.

Apparently the couple had some vested interest in Omni Tek crushing the rebellion and took the opportunity to take part in the war by insulting a Clanner.

Without another thought, the couple continued their conversation with her parents as if Taren had never been there…but her parents were already starting to leave as well.

[Phaergus]

No emotion showed on his haggard, unshaven face as he observed the familiar form of his friend cross the glowing screen in the dark room. He had been here for months, gritting his teeth daily, resentful of the task put before him, the punishment for the crime of a mischievous indiscretion. He looks up, rolls his neck, the muted sound of cramped joints popping as his arms stretch upwards lazily. Swiveling on his chair, he turns to the men standing behind him, his voice a monotone. “That’s her”.

A rough hand grips his shoulder and yanks him from the chair, throwing him to the ground. Chris grunts as a boot slams between his shoulder blades and his wrists are twisted back into the handcuffs he has worn, on and off, for months. Splayed facedown on the ground, his cheek against the plush carpet, he growls angrily, “I’ve done it. That’s her. That’s Taren Gorslin. You got what you want. That’s our deal. Now let me go.” He winces as the rumble of laughter from his handlers fills his ears and the heel of the boot grinds into the muscles of his back. “That, my friend, is not up to us. You’ll be seeing the boss soon.” The grizzled Atrox grins, his rotting teeth chipped and crooked, rancid breath wafting, his voice close to Chris’ ear, menacing, “And if you are lying…I’ll be the last person you ever see.”

Finally, a wave of emotion rolls over him, his throat tightening, tears threatening to rise. He squeezes his eyes shut and bites hard at his lip. His thoughts careen through his brain, not quite panic but urgent need, considering options, discarding them, moving onto the next. “I’ve got to get to her. I need to warn her.” Never a religious man, he nonetheless floats a request for salvation to whatever deities might be listening.

Dragged to his feet, Chris is led from the room. He glances back quickly to the screen. The friend he has reluctantly betrayed, oblivious to the surveillance, converses with an elderly couple. Silently he begs her forgiveness.

[Astera]

Storming out towards the hidden elevator, she spied the huge enforcer standing near the open doors.

“Yeah, I don’t like them uppity types either…” he started as she ignored him and got into the elevator. “whadda you say we go have drinks with “real” people?”

Looking at him incredulously, starting to decline, the thought didn’t seem so bad all of a sudden.

Secretly sending a message to her parents, whom at that point had left the table after no apology came from the couple, she and the three bodyguards walked out of the building and into the evening mist.

Walking a few blocks and a few whoompas later, they arrived at a small two story structure in a colorful part of town called the “Pilot House”. Not a hard guess what kind of people would be there.

The three of them entered the dimly lit place where a nice sized crowd sat at tables, at the bar or stood in the middle of everything in the way of everyone. Not much of a shock… pilots filled the place. More uniforms could be seen there than any place she’d imagined.

The huge enforcer grabbed a table near the back of the place and they all sent their drink orders to the bar via the list on the table. Sipping for a few minutes, the alcohol taking its effect on everyone, especially since she didn’t drink much, she found herself listening to the guards talk about themselves. Bones and Charlie were from Mars originally and hired on to some private agency to get to Rubi Ka but liked the moon and the city so much; they had little interest in leaving.

Ieyvan was more solemn after a few drinks but opened up after a bit of good-natured prying. He wasn’t into history as much as he was into other things…all of them having something to do with women. He apparently was a former bouncer and before that, was in a champion Zigball team on Earth but was forced from the league after killing someone intentionally during a game.

The laughed and shared stories about their lives but a crowd began forming as Taren began recounting stories of the struggle on Rubi Ka.

“Is it true that clanners don’t bathe?” came the question from a pilot.

“Someone told me that the Clans were every bit as greedy as Omni Tek!” came another

“Is it true that the Sentinels eat babies?” came the loudest question that caused her to erupt in laughter thinking of an old friend.

She explained the reclaim system and its ensuing sickness. No one there had ever died, so it was hard explaining the psychological trauma some suffered and others lived with.

All of them hung on the words as she told stories about the shadowlands and the invasion and the actions that triggered it…

A young female pilot walked forward wearing a uniform emblazoned with a symbol she didn’t really recognize and stated, “I ain’t never been ta Rubi Ka and don’t care much about that war. Tha clans don’t get no good publicity anywhere but you seem okay enough. Drinks for your table are on me the rest of the night!” A large cheer came from the crowd as she grinned.

A smile found its way to Tarens face and she profusely offered her thanks for the hospitality.

More questions followed the statement asking about the feared “Shadowbreed”. She explained without demonstrating but the crowd fell deathly silent with awe and reality as she revealed the alien weapons hidden beneath her coat.

Surprisingly enough, seven days of hyperspace travel away, they had no encounters with the alien invaders at all. They only thing they knew were the stories of the few pilots that made it back from Rubi Ka told them. The most interesting comment from the crowd was the rumor of huge weapons platforms spotted in orbit, heading to Rubi Ka.

[Phaergus]

It is dark. Pitch black dark. He has lost his sense of time. Has it been days? Weeks?

“At least a day.”

He startles at the sound of his own voice in the barren cinderblock room. The slight movement wrings to life the torment of his nervous system. His body aches all over. Bruises and scrapes radiate pain from every inch of his tall frame. He gingerly tests his limbs. Nothing appears to be broken but the scent of blood is pungent. He tries to think through the fog, to remember that meeting.

Clanners. They are Clanners. The horror of that realization causes his stomach to lurch and threaten to empty. Captured, beaten and betrayed by his own kind. Forcing him to betray one of his best friends. But who are they? Why? Why target Taren? Oh, he knew that Taren’s active political and militaristic stance wasn’t always popular, even among some of the Clans, but to lead to the point of murder? The idea repulsed him. We’ll never win by killing each other.

He sits silent, the ragged rasp of his breathing the only sound in the small room. His mind’s eye strains to see the face of the man who orchestrated this fiasco. But, he can’t. The man is obscured by shadows. A blinding light stings Chris’ eyes as he listens to the tirade of a zealot. The proclamation of death sentences for both he and Taren is delivered amid fanatical Clan rhetoric and twisted doctrine. The voice booms, spittle spraying as the fervent words are shouted at the stunned trader. “There are no deals for traitors, fool!”

Fool. He had that right. Chris felt like a complete fool. To be so lax in his own personal security as to allow this atrocity to occur was unforgivable. He curses under his breath. That voice, though. So familiar, yet not. He’d recognize it again easily. The voice of a madman is hard to forget.

He sighs, huddles into the cold cement corner, and closes his eyes. Executed by Clanners. Perma-killed. What a way to go.

[Phaergus]

“You look like a rabid animal. And you stink. That will not do for your gridcast debut, rebel.”

The face of yet another stranger hovers over him, but this time, the countenance holds a small hint of compassion. A sardonic smile on his face, the man’s hand turns Chris’ chin as he examines the damage to the younger man’s face. “Whatever did they use on your face? I fear the brotherhood enjoys its work too much at times. We need to clean you up.”

His captor strolls ahead, chatting lightly, unconcerned about the prisoner behind his turned back. “It will not do for the good people of Rubi-ka to witness the execution of a confirmed example of a “filthy clammer”, even if you are a traitorous dog. You will die cleansed.” The elder man chatters excitedly, Chris can almost imagine him huddled amongst the womenfolk at the hair salon, having his nails done, spreading salacious gossip about his neighbors’ personal habits. “And you’ll want to look good for your reunion with your friend, Ms. Gorslin. Yes? Perhaps that brute Silverstone will be concerned about his little apostles. Yes? I hear he has a particular interest in the doings of Ms. Gorslin. Yes? A favorite perhaps? Yes? Yes, I think so. I think so. I hear she is both beautiful and utterly vicious. Silverstone would like that. Yes!”

Chris shies away from the dawn rays of light. He hasn’t seen the sun in some time. Squinting against the glare, he hobbles along behind his latest caretaker on cramped, swollen feet to what is ostensibly a medical facility. His tongue probes at the newly created gap in his teeth, gingerly exploring the ragged holes where his front teeth used to be. The coppery taste of fresh blood runs down the back of his throat. It hadn’t been that difficult to knock them out. Cement walls are merciless on enamel when the collision is forceful enough. It had been tougher to find the correct tooth on the floor of the cell in the pitch dark. It was even more difficult to extract the transmitter encased in it.

The zealot, he can only think of them as such, pauses at the door to a de-contamination cell. His fingers dance across a wall console, activating the various washes and rinses, liquids splashing against the metal walls of the stall. Steam rises and billows over their heads, the beeping and buzzing sound of machinery coming to life fills the room. Within seconds, protective-suited attendants of indeterminate sex begin milling around and Chris becomes acutely self-conscious of his nakedness for the first time. He keeps his gaze to the ground.

“Get in, rebel.”

Chris stumbles into the stall, hands breaking his fall as they brace against the cell wall. A steaming diluted chemical cocktail of liquid cascades down his body. To Chris, it was blessedly comforting, bringing back a surreal sense of normalcy to him. His mind drifts, worrying about his transmission. Had he been too far away for it to be received? Did it explain enough? Did anyone even care anymore? It had been so long since he had arranged for this emergency, last resort technology that he really couldn’t remember the technical specification that the technician who installed it recited to him as he bored into Chris’ teeth. The message was simple:

TAREN GORSLIN. IDENTITY AND LOCATION KNOWN BY HOSTILE CLAN. SUBJECT MUST EXERCISE EXTREME CAUTION. CAPTURE IMMINENT. EXECUTION INTENDED. WARN SUBJECT.

He hoped it had been enough. He hoped someone had listened. He hoped someone would act.

[Vixentrox]

Cathern looked out the porthole on the shuttle. The planet below looked fairly interesting from orbit. But then, all planets looked somewhat inviting from orbit didn't they?

"All passengers and crew prepare for atmosphere re-entry. Buckle up and secure all loose items. We'll be on the ground shortly. Thank you for choosing Delta Deepspace Shuttles and we hope you soar with us again'

Cathern braced herself for the landing. She had only rarely been away from Rubi-ka. The number of trips off Rubi-ka could be counted on one hand aside from the occasional visit to Morning Star. The shuttle began to shake as it hit the atmosphere and Cathern tighten her grip on the arm rests of her chair in the first class cabin. Within a few minutes it was all over. The captain expertly landed the shuttle at the fairly busy shuttle port. Unbuckling herself from her chair, she waited for the door to open.

"Hissssss"

After a moment the door open and fresh air and sunlight streamed into the shuttle. Cathern collected her travel bag and walked out of the shuttle, nodding with a slight smile her approval of the crews' performance. "Have a nice day Mrs. Flowers and thank you for soaring with us", said the steward.

Getting her bearings she strode through the shuttle port and exited. The air seemed different than Rubi-ka. Cathern decided that it must be the pervading lack notum in her home planets air that made the difference. "No reclaim here Cathern...must remember to be a little more careful." she thought to herself.

About ten minutes later she was at her hotel. Checking in, she went to her well appointed room. It was amazing how far credits could go on a peaceful planet. Everything was hyper-inflated on Rubi-ka because of the war. The very modest fortune she obtained on Rubi-ka would go very far towards a comfortable life here.
A comfortable life. Cathern looked into her bathroom mirror studying the image. "The years have not been kind to you Cathern. All the stress and hardships....." Years of war and leading a clan were beginning to show more and more. Fine lines were beginning to show and already she seen a gray hair or two.

Cathern sighed at the image before her, removed her clothes and hopped into the shower. "How much longer Cathern...how much longer can you keep this up?” she said out loud to herself. The noise from the shower would have hid the sound of her tears, had there been any one there to hear them.

[steelyglint]

If one was observant, one would of noticed a pair of gleaming yellow eye's peering over the crest of the hill, flicking from side to side, scanning the area in front. But the blinding searchlights and various other goings on took the attention away from this small detail in the landscape.

The leftenant, in sabertooth form was crouched down low, blending into the darkness on the edge of the light. Information was being fed back to TBC hq and from there onwards to their allies via heavily encrypted channels. The Leftenant was nervous, he was about to lead his first Company Action as Captain.

It had been a reasonable deduction to make that the omni's were possibly aware of his captains departure. as careful as one can be about such matters, there is never 100% security. so just to remind the omni's that the Black Company, firstly, not swaying leaderless and incapable of action, and secondly, retained the will to fight till the end. Their allies had also readily agreed to the raid.From all over Rubi-ka and from the shadowlands, they responded to the message to assemble.

They gathered quietly in the darkness behind the hill, crept up to join the Leftenant behind the crest, and they too peered over.

Spread out in front of them like a bubble encased mini city was the Secondary Omni-tek Armed Forces Base. After serveying for a few minuites, they all crept quietly backwards. The Leftenant waited up top.

After a few minutes, everyone signaled their readiness to engage. Two giant enforcers rose up, grinned at each other from behind their helmets, nodded and charged. Omni defenders swept out to engage, the rest of the assembled members rose and joined in the battle.

A quick, but fierce battle ensued, The omni's dropped like flies from the mighty blows of the two alien hammer weilding enforcers. the omni corpses piled up as the outgunned defenders were sent to reclaim. Before long the base was decimated, The leftenant took the omni supply masters book from the body of his corpse. The gathered members cheered.

The Leftenant conversed with his allies for a few minuites, They advised him the sentinals would reward him handsomely for the prize he held in his hands if he delivered it to thier supply master at their main base. After thanking everyone for thier assistance, and the assembled clanners went on thier way, he stood serveying the ruins and bodys, all he could think about was his captain and hopeing that she would be pleased with the results of their handy work. And that they had indeed given the omni's a swift reminder that they were still at war.

leftenant Steelyglint

general of The Black Company

[Tussa]

Refreshed from a long, hot bath, Jen walked lazily across the floor in her Jobe apartment. Curling her toes on the soft carpet, she couldn't help but relish in the comfort and peaceful atmosphere of her own home. Stopping by the kitchen, she made herself a cup of sweet kappa tea and headed towards the plush chairs by the window. She missed the blinking LED indicating a waiting message on the decrypt unit resting on the low table on the other side of the room, and instead savoured the tea and the view. Leaning back, she spoke a command out in the empty room, asking Sembly to report the messages waiting for her, which the AI promptly did.

It was all the usual, messages from her clan, from the CoT clerical office, from friends and even one from her mother. Setting the cup aside and brushing through her hair with her fingers, she listened through all of them, and brought up the stationary holo-unit on the small coffee table to see the visual message from her mom. Having braided her hair in the normal fashion, she sat back and drew a deep breath, eyes half-lidded as she watched the twin suns set over Jobe.

'There is one message remaining, Miss Godfray,' the soft but formal voice of her clan's virtual assistant told her. Jen didn't say anything for a moment, waiting for Sembly to announce who it was from, as was her usual preference before listening to any new messages. When the AI didn't continue as usual, she sat up and asked for Sembly to identify the origin of the message.

'I am sorry, Miss Godfray. No such information available,' was the blunt answer she got. Frowning, trying to repress the paranoid thoughts that so often struck her these days, she got up and walked over to the work terminal. Only then did she see the message indicator on the decrypt unit and hurriedly sat down. Shortly thereafter, she bit her bottom lip and crossed her legs under her, sitting attentively up and reading the words of the message out slowly, as if to confirm to herself what she had just read.

- Taren Gorslin. Identity and location known by hostile...clan? Subject must exercise extreme caution....capture imminent. Execution intended. Warn subject.

After having searched the properties of the message and found disturbingly little, she checked her comlink to see if Kotts or Alice were around. She didn't much like to track hot wires, as that wasn't her field of expertise, but as none of the comms techs were awake and she didn't want to wait, she prompted Sembly to start a standard search. When that didn't succeed, she asked the AI to run prototype protocols. She knew it was running a risk and Kotts wouldn't be very happy when he found out, but the clever opifex had taught her one thing at least. Hop, skip, grab and leave. In short series, the AI broke down a series of encrypted byways she didn't understand the first things off, always in short rounds, and always changing the cryptation to cover its tracks. The whole process didn't take more than ten-fifteen minutes, but it felt much longer.

Finally, she could make some sense of the pain text. It presented galactic coordinates, which Sembly quickly located to some far-away little ICC-run moon, and a signature. Not a clear name, not a callsign, but a digital signature. Having lived on Rubi-Ka for years now, befriended so many hackers and code-killers, she remembered that many people who preferred to remain 'ghosts in the system', people who were wanted, underground forces, trackers, smugglers or even members of some radical clans often used a digital signature like this to identify them without giving any information about their name, whereabouts or even what faction of the conflict they belonged to. Looking over the message again, she was confused a moment. Someone was sending a warning signal about Taren from some obscure moon several clicks off of Rubi-Ka...but why? She checked her comlink, but Taren's signal was out and had been for a few days now. She had said something about having business off-planet, but nothing about where she was going or why.

In the end, Jenny couldn't do anything but contact one of her acquaintances in the shady community in Tir. A guy whose hide she had covered for a long time ago, when he was stopped and accused of carrying contraband in Borealis. She had jumped in and claimed he was working for her and after a short, but hot-tempered stand-off with the patrolling guards, they had let him go. He had grinned a toothless grin and given her enough information to know how to contact him should she ever need a return service. That was at least a year ago and now she was calling in the favour.

After describing the situation to him, her comlink went quiet for a few, long moments but eventually, it crackled to life again. He gave her her a callsign only, then broke the call, leaving her with a surprised blink on her face.

"Phaergus?" she mumbled to herself, her fingers already punching in the name on the people-finder. Thirty minutes later, she sat tapping her fingers on the desk, growing increasingly worried. Christopher Clyburn (the surname called out an involuntary wince from her) was part of Taren's clan, but she knew she had heard his name in other circles, namely Cathern's. He was a former Whisper's Edge member, now a unit leader in The Black Company. Knowing nothing about the man, why he would send such a message -one that her scans had surprisingly picked up- and now worrying even more about Taren, she did the only thing she could think of. Calling Cathern.

Calling Vix wasn't as easy as it sounded like, her local comlink signal being switched off, but she left a message for her to contact her immediately, hoping she would check her messages frequently, or turn on her comms systems soon. She left no doubt that it was important, but for now, she didn't want to arouse any su****ions of increased comms or meetings, in case someone was in fact on Taren's tail, so there was nothing Jen could do but sit back and wait for Vix to call her back, hoping the agent would be able to help her understand what this could be about.

[Phaergus]

The stage is enormous. A glittering metal platform set dead centre to a ring of spectators’ seats held two stakes. Chris looked more closely at the stakes, metal poles much like fence posts with extensions for…he blanches as a thought strikes him. They are like crosses, for a crucifixion. Chris pales as his imagination brings the macabre scene to life, and he can’t help but whisper, “This is unreal.” Gaudy flashing lights on a back screen scream out the words “Proeliator Pacis” and he reaches deep into the recesses of his memory. Old Earth. Greek? No. Latin. Warriors? Yes, Warriors and Peace. Peace Warriors? The irony is not lost on his addled brain.

Chris staggers as blinding lights suddenly illuminate the soundstage. Rows upon rows of floodlights explode into a harsh fluorescent glare. His vision is assaulted and fogged but what he does make out is hyper-defined. The horror of the crosses becomes vivid as the concentration of wattage focuses on them in a freakish juxtaposition of light and shadow. He pants, his muscles recoil and his stance has him raised on the balls of his feet, waiting. Instinctively he reaches for a gun that hasn’t been there for a long while.

“Ahahahahaha, Ahahahhaa, afraaaaaiiiiiddd traitor!?!? “ It’s that voice screeching from the loudspeakers, the voice of the madman.

“Tell me. Are you afraid to die, Chrisssstopher? Seriously, you are pathetic. You call yourself a warrior??!? YOU SHAME THE CLANS!”

The echoes from the electronically amplified voice reverberate across the rows of empty seats. Chris’ ears ring from the acute decibel level. The young trader scans the rows, spinning on the balls of his feet, turning, looking for the source of the voice, finding nothing. The tinny laughter from the sound system enrages him, dredging from him the nearly abandoned anger buried deep in his battered body. His hoarse voice raises and he howls.

“I AM NOT AFRAID! Do it, do it now! I WANT to die! Do it!”

The amphitheatre goes silent, the lights extinguish as quickly as they lit, leaving Chris in the darkness. He blindly cocks his head, listening. A faint rustle. There. He turns to the sound. A silhouette. That voice, very softly, “No.”

The young man lunges, growling, fists flailing, cursing, his tired, pained body flung at the silhouette. Instantly, a swarm of hands and feet beat him to the ground. He is lifted, all his extremities held firmly and thrown into one of the spectator seats. Within seconds, he is bound to the armrests and chair back. He grunts and strains against the bindings, gnashing, butting his head towards anyone that gets close. After several minutes, the effort and the futility set in and he settles back in the plush seat, panting with exertion.

His voice low, cracked and gravelly, a rural twang belying his birthplace, his words slurred by the absence of his front teeth, “F*** y’all. She is gonna kick y’alls a***s. Do you think that she is even remotely as careless as me? Are you that naïve?”

Fueled by rage, the words tumble from his ruined mouth in stammering rush, “Y-y-you are f-f-fools if you think you can j-j-judge her abilities by m-m-m-mine. There is a r-r-reason why she is who she is.” He stops short. His jaw clamps shut, horrified that his childhood affliction has resurfaced. Shame washes over him as his despair rises, thinking, “The last straw. This is the last straw.”

The seat behind him creaks with the weight of occupation. He feels the push of feet against his own chair back. The hair on the back of his neck rises as he feels the breath of the madman on his skin. The voice slithers through his consciousness as the man speaks, almost gently, “I am called the Inquisitor, Christopher. And I can be your salvation.” The Inquisitor’s hand grabs a clump of Chris’ hair in his fingers and twists, “Or I can be your doom. But you, son, have been judged and found wanting.” Chris sighs in resignation and nods.

[Vixentrox]

"This is a nice property, thank you for showing me. I'll need to consider it for a time and perhaps see a few more before making up my mind." Cathern said to the real estate agent. For the past couple of days she had been visiting many properties on the planet, trying to decide if this place was for her.

Going back to her hotel, Cathern wondered if she could be happy here. Would she grow bored or was it time to retire like she suspected? She knew she could never stay on her home planet and leave it all behind. She had to be far away to keep from jumping into the thick of things, a tendency that already was taking it's toll.

Cathern opened the door to her hotel room, checking to see if anyone had been there besides the maid. Running a quick sweep of the room, nothing was found of course. No one here really cared about the Omni-Clan conflict here she thought. Slipping out of her clothes, Cathern ran the bath. As the room began to steam up she looked in the mirror. Spying another gray hair, Cathern sighed and yanked the offending hair out. "Maybe I should go back to my skunk look", Cathern said to herself while looking at the dangling strand of hair in her fingers. She dropped it into the toilet without a second glance and gingerly sat in the tub. "Ahhh...I should do this more often."

Cathern soaked until the waters began to get a bit cool and her skin was well pruned. After getting out and drying off, she slipped on a royal blue satin teddy. She fired up her communications terminal and began to read personal messages, delibertly avoiding anything that looked like work or Whisper's Edge business. "Hmm, what's this? Jen messaging me?" Cathern smiled to herself thinking perhaps the red-head finally decided to take her up on a date. Cathern's eyes darkened as it became clear that she was being drawn into the fray yet again. "So much for the idea of a date". Cathern composed a message and sent it off to Jen asking what she could do to help. Searching for retirement properties would have to wait, for now at least.

The rest of her messages were of no importance. Cathern slipped into bed and lay awake a long time before sleep finally took hold.

[Tussa]

Jen woke up to the urgent beeping from her comlink. Fumbling around in the dark, she frowned at the rustling of sheets next to her in bed. She hadn't wanted to wake him by this, but there really wasn't much choice. This was growing more important by the hour.

The message was from Vix. She let out a slight breath of relief and quietly got up from bed, threw on a soft robe and went into the living area of the flat. Once there, she played the message, the familiar face of the opifex lit up in front of her with an expression of curiosity and worry at the same time. She caught herself wondering how Vix was and how she had changed in the three years they had known eachother. A thought to her own transformation cause a slight smirk and she shook her head to empty her mind for other things than what was at hand.

Evidently, this message had just came in, meaning that Vix should be awake. Hitting the proper sequence of buttons, she managed to establish a secure line to the agent's comlink and shortly thereafter, she picked up. The signal was oddly weak and crackled quite a bit.

- Hi, it's Jen....where are you, there's a bit of static on the line here.

- Hi Jen. I'm off of Rubi-Ka for a bit of a vacation. Just relaxing.

She was a bit surprised by the answer, as she didn't know that Vix took longer trips off the planet just for R&R. But that would be a good thing, she figured.

- Listen, Vix. There's this really strange thing that happened. I picked up a distr-..no a warning signal from a remote moon, and having decrypted it, it's from a guy who used to be in your clan. Christopher 'Phaergus' Clyburn.

She continued to explain about the signal, it's content and that it was regarding something bad that could or had happened to Taren. Jen knew that Vix cared for Taren a great deal, having known her much longer than she had known her herself. The three of them were a somewhat odd set of triplets, all strong in their opinion about life on Rubi-Ka and all three of them clan leaders. Because of this, she knew Vix would take it seriously at once.

- I don't like this any more than you do, Jen. I also don't like how the message is sent. I doubt Chris would do this without letting his girlfriend know? Pretty sure he's seeing Sorroe now. Have you talked to her? If she don't know I figure he might be in a bind himself. Where did you say this was sent from?

Jen asked Vix to hold on a bit while she found it, quickly searching her wristpad which lay on the desk in front of her. Once she had the name of the location, she told Vix, earning a moment of surprised silence. Again, the opi's forehead frowned.

- That's not far from here. I wouldn't be surprised if Taren is close or even in this same place as me. Ok...here's what we'll do. I obviously want Chris out of whatever problems he's in and we both want Taren out. I'll deal with finding out where she is and how to get her out of the trouble she's in, but then I have to ask you to find a way to help Chris, Jen. It'll take time to find Taren, seeing as I dont' know the underworld here and might have to 'convince' some people to give me the necessary information, so I can't handle both without risking blowing my covers or alarming the bad guys.

She went on for a while with instructions, told her who to talk to about Phaergus, gave her some background on him, his skills, what she thought he'd do and then how the two of them would keep in contact. They discussed it thoroughly, although it didn't take too long. When they were done, Jen put the comlink down and looked up at the man leaning against the bedroom doorway, rubbing sleepy eyes with the back of one hand.

- Trouble, huh? he said simply, drawing a nod from her before she told him what was happening.