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[MINDDRIVE]

...As MindDrive sits lurking in the eclipse shadows of the suns radiation and the noise the quasars emit, he has seen quite a few ships buzzing the system and docking at the station. From the time these ships are staying docked, one is inclined they are not staying 'dry'.

"Interresting... must be some sort of celebration..."

Watching closer, ever so carefull to keep an eye on the radar scanner, a brightly lit holograph marquee confirmed the event. Just what the system needs... another bar. *SIGH* Then a thought occured! These fools with their drinks and their banter can only lead to one thing.... this [celebration] will leave them drunk and clumbsy!

"Easy prey" he thought to himself.

After cascading across the various sensors and readings from the radiation threat levels, he was assured that detection was impossible from his vantage point and found that the coordinates were a perfect ambush location. Like the snipers had back on Earth before the great war drove humanity towards the stars, this location was a very strategic location. Pitty that the technology has driven ground based combat almost to extinction.

The stories Mind remembered as a child about how combat was fought with guns and knives always had a place. Then he thought to himself about how primitive it must have been to have to actually run into battle and fight face to face. He shuddered as the thought of blood splattering the ground awoke the very instinct to fire off his weapons at an unseen foe... this he resisted hesitantly as the sudden burst of energy would have definately given away his location. The quasar's energy emissions masked his ships thruster signature, but wouldn't mask a sudden burst of the phantom lasers. A would be fatal mistake narrowly avoided.

As he thought to himself, "Ill just sit and wait..".

Mind had learned through the many years of hardened combat that patience really is a virtue. He has seen many fall victim to unplanned attacks and even further prey to the very targets those poor bastards chose to attack. He laughed just then, remembering that most of those same targets were targetting his ship. Little did they know of the places and the races that he had his vessle built to a very specific quality. The technology that went forth into Mind's ship was vastly supperior to most, and very costly. However, prior to its creation, many times forth, he had escaped death through the telleportation device implanted within his body that was linked to his ships sensors. Now, after stealing what he could not buy on the black market, his ship and his piloting skills have become a formidable adversary to these discusting law abiding 'citizens'.

Gritting his teeth in angst, he spat out "FOOLS.... they will all pay" as saliva splattered across the console in a convulsion so powerfull he nearly broke his hand after slamming it into the ships controls. It took a great while before he could get his heart rate back down. The ships bioscanner wailed imminent danger of adrenallin overdose. He really needed to lay off the synthisized cardimine. Who knows what crap these whack job chemists put into that junk anymore. The effects were definately taking their toll as he was known to remain concious for weeks on end. Just like the original cardimine, that was found throughout the collonies centuries before, the effects were slowly starting to become part of his DNA.

One could only imagine what could have caused such bitter hatred to drive a person to dwell in the complete destruction of those that stood before him. The people he does not destroy, only know of him as MindDrive......

"Yes this seems like an excellent spot... I'll wait till them fools are drunk and stupid with happiness".....

[MINDDRIVE]

.....LURKING.....

*****Incoming IR transmission*****
*****Video stream aquired*****
*****Playback initiated*****

*****End Transmission*****

Hmm.... Interresting....
Seems they have forgotten about me from their initial scan picked up from my contrail. So they really do harvard to all clientel. My plan has come together quite nicely....

Time to go....

[jez]

It was after enough escort mission. The clan traders have found their pot of gold at the end of the rainbow sadly that rainbow went though killer space so i was payed my wage let them keep their hides and their cargo. My nerves were shot but what happened will make all my training at school and the billions of cridt upgrades to my jet black mantis worth it.

The police were talking about a a murder at the tanya base tipping the neutraleriser this had taken out most weapon systems in the nearby area. i was 20k out from the tanya and all of a sudden all my weapons went down like flys, my computers made it seem like there weren't there. things were bad but were now getting worse "I have orders to scan your ship you will complie" it the same police droning scans. but this time i had been given a rare and illigel ore and you think make the police angry well i've never seen them since bad in all my years. " woah we found something u'd better hand it over all we'll have to fire' at frist i was worryied the neutraleriser's effects would wear off before i could make the jump but all had been fine will i made it to the jump hole near a xeno base. i sighed xeno's the dumb num skulls of space they swarmed and FIRED but for some reason my weapons were still not working. i put every volt of power to get them going and it gave me one shot and one shot olny. so i fired

right into the exest pipe of the base. i hear his was a famous doing in a primite movie "star wars" but the effects were the same KA-BOOM my mantis was held though a new jump hole i'd never seen and brought me to any traders hell

[MINDDRIVE]

...... After initiating the "GIR" viral code into the civilized regions of SIRRIUS....

Sir, incoming reports from the HOUSE FACTION computers...

What is it?

Aparently the GIR code has dug up intel on the various databases that hold records of every known pilot in SIRRIUS. The code has decifered all of the classified information that is used for targetting other ships that our sensors determine friend/foe status.

Hmm... Make sence of it and use it to our advantage! Adjust the transponders on our fleet to match this database's alignment charts so that we appear neutral. We will use this to avoid detection on long range scans of these HOUSE corporation fools. This will allow us to get deep within civil space.


.....MEANWHILE.....
*Sitting near the corona of the NY systems sun*


*BLLEEEEEEEP BLEEP BLEEP BLEEEEEEEEEP*
*BLEEEEEP BLEEP BLEEEEEEEP*
*Incoming Data Transmission*
*Priority: OMEGA*

Whats this?

*HOUSE data encription received*
*PILOT: MINDDRIVE*
*Resident Reputation to HOUSE factions: NEUTRAL*

Really? Now thats interresting. Must be a side effect of the GIR codes ability to get into everything rampantly.

....A quick scan of surrounding docking fixtures confirms the integration of the database....

After we stripped the Missouri battleship, it was a wise idea to leave its outer hull in New York. We stashed the bulk of it on Malta where the Outcasts have learned how to mass produce it and supposedly is selling it under the OSIRIS name as a stab at Liberty forces. Doubt it will have anywhere near the firepower that it had against the great NOMAD war...

....Flying into the system, a com display alerts of possible trouble on the targetted base. Docking was momentarily suspended and was quickly cleared....

Lets see how neutral this base really is. The last time I was here, Liberty forces had pinged my ship but couldn't get a lock on my transponder. If it wasnt for the nearby quasar, I surely would have been fired upon. The Tekagi's Samurai base is quite convienent and theyve choosen a most excellent location, though its a bit tricky flying blind in the quasars pulse frequencies and radiation.

....Using the tradelane network setup in the Colorado system, The intel programmed into the ships computer works flawlessly. Three Liberty ships exit the tradelane nearly clipping the wing of the Scarlet. Open scans indicated that all ships in the sector were considered friendly or neutral with the information being sent and received except one... ADMINS. A quick scan of the 2 ships that showed up were of older technology and seemingly outdated weapons and equipment. Something else showed up as well, an excellent exchange for their heads. Just then, an energy signature ruptured the proximity alarms....

***WARNING: IMMINENT COLLISION DETECTED***
***WARNING***
***WARNING: IMMINENT COLLISION DETECTED***
***AUTOMATIC EVASIVE MANEUVERS EXECUTED***
***Incoming scan detected***
***Return scan completed***
***Ship Identified as ADMIN faction***
***Class: Cylon Raider***
***Weapons and Equipment Class: ADMIN***
***Pilot Identified: MadCat***
***Threat: HIGH***
***DO NOT ENGAGE! TEMPORAL EQUIPMENT DETECTED***

Hmm... These ADMINs are tricky. They boast great numbers in swarms in weak ships and poor pilots and yet they have a few of these pilots with equipment so powerfull it could almost destroy a base. They must have some form of higharchy that puts their most powerfull fighters above everyone else. The scans indicated that I wouldnt be able to destroy him but from the looks of one of those guns, he wouldnt even notice my ship as the blast tore through my ships hull... better remain idle on the trigger. Even if I did fire on that ship of his, its very doubtfull it would even scratch through that shield. And that temporal equipment must allow him to jump to any location in space... Yeah I'll leave that attack to an idiot.

***Incoming message: Docking request granted***
***Enjoy your stay***

Enjoy my stay? ENJOY MY STAY???? HAHHAHAHAHHA!!!! Wow that intel really works! This sure beats landing in a flight suit with mag boots! I shall enjoy knowing that when people look at me, their visor coms wont detect a thing... OH MAN this is great!!! As far as they know, I'm just some average Joe Schmoe.

[S31-Zero-Order]

As I approach Tchatcha, I activate my comms and reach Station Control. "Station 1327: Tchatcha Station - This is Freelancer: Omega 1-0. I am requesting permission to dock." The Controller responds in turn, saying "Freelancer: Omega 1-0, you are cleared to dock. We have recieved your docking codes and have cleared you for access for the Quorum private bays. Be advised, there will be a security detail awaiting you after you dock, Zero." "Acknowledged Tchatcha. Commencing docking procedures," I reply. "A security detail? What could they possibly need to escort me for?" I ask myself. Tchatcha is a lawless place. Everyone governs themselves in their own manner, therefore it's nowhere near as secure as Tanya's Base and keeps only one rule: Don't mess with anyone unless you expect to fight. If you wrong someone there, you can expect to pay heavily in "an eye for an eye" method, or simply with your life. As I move to the station's docking bays, I spot the APG-Lightrider, my requested gunboat, docked on the side of the station and held in mooring clamps, along with multiple dropships marked with symbols from various mercenary groups. "Something's wrong," I tell myself as I enter the docking bay. My ship hovers steadily over the suspended metal loading platform on its gravity stand as I pop open the hatch, grab my machine gun from its holster, put on my helmet, and hop out of the ship. As I stand next to my ship, 3 pairs of magnetic docking clamps grab my fighter, holding it in place. This was not normal for this hangar bay, especially for a Quorum member. I reopen the message I recieved at Tanya's Base, reading over it carefully. Nothing seemed out of place, except that the message came from Theron. Theron is the station's Head Commander. Theron lacks the ability to grant control over any vessel in the fleet, due to his status. Something was definitely out of place.

I approach the doors to the Main Centre of the station. As they open, the security team steps out before I can enter. Each squad member carried a standard energy rifle and wore full-body combat armor. The squad leader stepped forward, his armor emitting an electronic red HUD about him, forming a helmet out of bands that connected at a single point at the back of his head. "What is the meaning of this?" I ask him suspiciously. "My ship has been locked in place in the docking bay and my gunboat's internal lights were all offline as I approached." "Relax Zero. It's only to ensure that you transition safely to your new ship and that nothing happens to your fighter," he says. We depart the Main Centre and we move to the mooring section of the station and approach the doors to the gunboat. We stop abruptly as the doors are still locked due to construction, the holo-console still glowing red and scrolling the same message. "What is this? My ship is still under construction?! Why have you called me here and wasted our time?" I ask, punching the activation button on the side of my machine gun, signaling it to unfold and charge. It clicks, the three barrels extend, and the blue electronic sight flips upwards, ready to fire. I hear nothing from the team and turn about to find them all taking aim at me. The squad leader begins, explaining "Commander Theron has ordered that you be terminated. We are allowed to use any means necissary." "Why is he doing this?" I ask, taking aim at each of them. "I'm afraid that that's an answer you won't live to find out," he replies. "You know," I begin, "I could have made your jobs much better had you simply followed me, instead of a petty Head Commander. Maybe you'll be able to follow him again sometime after this moment... IN HELL!" I activate my shields and proceed to fire the machine gun's heavy rounds flowing from the barrel with a THUM-THUM-THUM-THUM-THUMP! into three of the squad members, stumping them before they can do any serious damage. The energy rounds from their weapons wash across the first of three shield barriers, dropping it and signaling my suit to retract it behind the third to recharge and pushing the second layer forward in its place. The squad leader rushes at me, knocking my weapon from my grip as it skitters across the polished floor now stained with blood. He pins me to the wall, his arm holding me by the top of my chest on the bulkhead. He stares into my eyes as he uses his free arm to hit me again and again in the face. His fist slams into my nose, snapping it and causing blood to stream from my face. "WARNING! Major fracture detected!" My HUD sounds in my head as a small diagram of the bones in my nose comes up, showing the multiple fractures. The combat stimulators kick in and I'm filled with fury at this blatant betrayal. I trusted Theron with the security of the station, my ship, and my fellow comrades in APOC. I could feel the strength boosters activate, enabling me to become stronger than my assailant. I pull his arm away from me and kick him hard enough to propel him to the opposite wall. I sling my right arm downward and twitch my index finger, extending the 18 inch blade above my hand. I charge at him as he begins to stand, ramming the blade into his ribcage. His eyes grow wide as he stares at me, astonished that I'd made it that far. I twist the blade and yank it from his chest. As he falls, I could hear him struggling to breathe. There was no help to show for him as I crushed his external communicator beneath my metal boot. My first priority is to retreat from the station. I will not, however, allow this betrayal to go unpunished. No. Head Commander Theron will suffer for this mistake. He shall suffer dearly. I retrieve my weapon and step over the fallen, nursing my broken nose with medical gel and snapping the newly made 3 sections of bone back into the shape of one and allowing the medical implants to repair it as best as they can. "I can no longer trust anyone on this station until this setback is dealt with," I tell myself as I stagger down the narrow shining corridor, leading back to the Main Centre. I'll have to be tactical if I'm going to pull myself out of this one. A head-on attack will only get me killed, especially with the multitudes of mercenaries aboard the station. There's no telling how many people I may have to go through to reach my intended target.

[S31-Zero-Order]

There were too many civilians in the Main Centre to stage an ambush, therefore, the mercs were forced to wait in the office district. After the ambush with the four man security squad, I was left with about half of the metal slug bar in my weapon. I had a few more to spare and plenty more from the storage in my ship, but returning to the Quorum's hangar bay was out of the question. There was most likely another "security detail" there waiting for me. My only other option was to relieve Theron of his position as Head Commander of the station. Personally.

As I approached the office district of the station, I had to access two more floors in order to reach his level in the Command and Control (CNC) section. Using the gravity elevator would be the fastest route, but is also too risky. It would confine me to an enclosed space and deny any cover in the event of another firefight. "Well, I guess this is my last option," I mumble pessimistically to myself as I eye the stairwell. "There's no other way." I slowly creep along the hallway, weapon at the ready and aiming out front to take down any hostiles. I check the ammo counter on my red heavy machine gun and find that I have 56% left of the metal slug bar. (Each time I fire, my weapon shaves a large sliver from the block and propels it through the three spinning barrels at a rate of 5 rounds per second.) I wait and listen for the footsteps of hostile targets, checking my motion detector. As a few seconds pass by, I conclude that there is no opposition to stop me for the moment. As I enter the stairwell, I begin to hear footsteps and people talking amongst themselves. I take no chances and activate my active camo. I have only but a short time before it deactivates and has to recharge, so I move as quickly and quietly as I can up the stairs. I manage to get a view of the others in the stairwell as I approach. A band of mercenaries have assembled themselves within the stairwell, guarding it with pistols, SMG's, and modified rifles. Very carefully, I time my movements as not to touch them as I pass by. Very carefully, I slide my way past, moving up the next set of stairs to the second floor. As I enter the door silently, I realise that if any gunfire breaks out in this hallway, they'll come rushing up from the first floor through any entrance possible, maybe including the elevator. I check my suit's belt for any means of preemptive defense and come across a bar of high-grade adhesive explosive. I set part of it on the wall with a laser trip wire, ready for reinforcements should they come. With that guarding the staircase, I begin to proceed through the maze of hallways until I reach the Second Floor Lobby. After removing the security detail and having the explosives deal with those lingering in and around the stairwell, that should account for two of the four dropship groups. One remaining group is most likely guarding the private Quorum bays, with the second guarding Theron. "At least these groups aren't so bad," I tell myself. "They probably think that modified weapons, simple organization and custom-painted armor makes them professionals." I shut off my camo and proceed towards the office. As I round a corner, the hallway to Theron's office is littered with metal boxes, most have a merc lying behind them, taking aim at me. I had about 5 different weapons pointed in my direction, all ranging from SMG's to assault rifles.

They continue to stare at me, each holding his or her position behind their crate. "Prototype Zero!" I hear over the loudspeaker. "How nice of you to show up... alive." Theron had an unmistakeable voice. He was always smooth with each word, pronouncing each with precision and determined accuracy, careful never to use slang. I'd guessed it made him feel more sophisticated? Maybe not. Doesn't matter. "Why are you doing this Theron?" I shout in response. "I helped set you into your position!" "I've always wanted power and the ability to command!" he replies in defiance. "You took away my chance to join the Quorum! I will take your position after you are long gone, as it should have been rightfully mine years ago!" "You honestly believe that you would have gained the position? There are many many more who are more deserving than you. Tell me, what would you gain by killing me? Do you seriously think that the Quorum would allow you to join after this? What's to stop you from killing them, too?" I'm fed up with his bravado. I prep my survival suit for another confrontation. "This has gone on long enough!" he says. "Kill him!" I quickly dive back around the corner and take cover. The energy rounds fly in a torrent through the entrance to the hall. As I'm waiting for a break in enemy fire, a small metal object clanks at my feet. Without looking and assuming it's a grenade, I quickly grab the object and hurl it down the hall, hopefully behind the enemy's cover. It landed behind two of the boxes and exploded at about the same time it hit the ground, brutally destroying two of the mercs and knocking back two more. Seconds after the shock of the blast, I spin out of cover firing into the smoke and haze. The thumping of the heavy rounds stopped short into the merc far enough back to be protected from the blast. His armor stood no chance. The other two get back up and I walk through the hall, wading through the clouds of smoke and unmentionable other details, firing my weapon. They managed to hit me multiple times with their assault rifles, knocking out two of the three barriers in my shield. They both dropped to the ground as I proceeded to the door. An explosion rocked the hallway and scared me half to death, sprinting to any kind of cover available. With my heart pounding, I realized that it was the explosives I'd planted at the previous door. The elevator remained silent and abandoned as I continued on my way. Checking the ammo counter, I eject what was left of the metal slug bar and insert a fresh one, setting my ammo counter back to "100%."

I enter the room as Theron is hiding behind his desk, hoping that I don't see him. "Come out and fight, coward!" I call out to him. "You've committed the most unforgivable act I could think of. It's time to pay for your crimes." I hear him get up from behind his desk and see his unmistakeable figure. He's tall and more muscular than myself, but is clean-shaven with a military buzz cut. "Glad to see you could make it," he says with a wry smile on his face. "I'd hate to lose the chance to kill you myself." "Is that so?" I retort with excitement. "I'm gonna make sure you get what's coming to ya." "Well, Prototype, you can't hit what you can't see..." he says as he disappears in an active camo field and dives off in another direction. "What?!" I exclaim. "How?!" My weapon is suddenly knocked out of my hands and a fist is driven into my stomach, knocking me backwards a foot or two. I engage my sensory implants to detect thermal data in my eyes and he's illuminated like a star. He throws me into the far wall, shrieking, "You were a genetic mistake, Zero! You are a tank-bred and have no place in this world!" I jump up quickly and extend the blades over both arms, getting into a defensive position. "It was a mistake to create you, Zero! It was one that I will soon correct! You think you are the only one who bears implants from those experiments? Think again." He charges at me, and I at him, yelling at the top of my lungs. He swipes at me with a combat knife he drew from his leg, which I dodge easily as I duck beneath his arm. I spin mid-dodge and slash him twice, causing him to draw back. I press forward, screaming, "You will die with that knowledge! I was the only successful attempt!" I stab him with both blades in the chest. Realizing what had happened, he drops his combat knife as his legs buckle. I stare into his dimming eyes, saying "You were a design flaw, obviously. One that I have rectified." I pull the blades out and leave him there on the floor, dying. As I'm about to proceed out the door, he presses a button beneath his desk and pulls a pistol from a hidden holster in the same location. He fires into my back repeatedly, dropping all shield barriers and rendering my personally-generated barrier and suit's armor my last line of defense. I kick the pistol from his hands, flip him over on his back, and after saying "you had such promise..." stomp on his throat.

As I turn to leave, with the blades still extended, the outbound door opens as four mercenaries run in, firing their weapons. Charging, I manage to slay one of them immediately and mortally wound the next. My final barrier falls under the small arms fire and the final few rounds begin to hit my armor. I take down the third and dash to the fourth, ramming him with the blades, but his pistol was already raised to my stomach as I attacked. Bang! Bang! Bang! The three shots pierce my armor and hit me in my lower torso. I manage to kill him, but I fear as though I might not survive this one. My medical implants can keep me alive only for so long from something like this. I stagger over to a chair in the office, still bleeding badly and activate my emergency medical implant. The help beacon activates as I sit, waiting, and slowly losing consciouseness. I pass out in that chair, my body growing cold and tears welling in my eyes.

I feel myself being lifted out of the chair, a wonderful voice in my ears. "He needs adrenaline to assist in a kickstart!" she says. "Clear!" Thump! - A sudden pain in my chest. I partially awaken as I'm being carted to the medical bay for emergency treatment. The pain intensifies beyond anything I've ever felt before as I scream in agony. "Stay down! Stay down!" she says as we arrive in the bay. I pass out again with a set of beautiful hazel-colored eyes being the last thing I see. My HUD flickers as I lie there, too incapacitated to be able to comprehend data or any physical stimulus.

I wake up with bright medical lights in my eyes, a splitting headache, and immense pain in my stomach. I look down the length of myself to see bloodied bandages replacing the locations of the slug holes. The girl sat there in a chair, observing me. "Where am I?" I ask quizically. "The last thing I remember was being shot and passing out." "You're in the Tchatcha medical bay," she says - a smile on her face. "You gave us quite the scare for a while there. I wasn't sure I'd be able to save you. Those medical implants were probably the only thing that kept you alive during the whole duration. We were able to extract each slug from you. You can keep them if you want," she says with a giggle as she holds them in a glass jar in front of me. I notice something as she stands near me - something in her eyes... "Can you step closer, please?" I ask. She does so, and I see what I thought it was. "May I have a mirror, please?" I ask. She gives it to me and I realise that it's the same light that shines behind my eyes. "You're --" I begin. "A prototype? Yes. Just like you, Zero," she interrupts. "We're the same age, you and I. We were grown in the same facility. I was to become a pilot just as you were. I have many of the same capabilities, as well. The APOC sure do know how to make mods." I recline back in the bed and she runs her fingers through my hair with a smile. "What is your name?" I inquire. "Tila," she responds simply. "I was 'Prototype Tila'."

I had a feeling that there was a lot of catching-up that needed to happen. I fell asleep that afternoon with the Elohim sun shining brilliantly outside the station window. I'm not expecting to be up and running any time soon.

[MINDDRIVE]

****Docking Sequence Complete****

Just as I power down the docking thrusters and about to stabilize the cabin pressure to the bays....


****INCOMING TRANSMISSION****
****CYPHER ALGORITHYM INITIATED****
****URGENCY CRITICAL****
****CODE NAME: ZERO****
****PILOT WOUNDED IN COMBAT****
****TCHATCHA CONFLICT IN BASE****
****RESPOND****
****TRANSMISSION LOST****

Blast. What the hell could be going on there? I re-energize the thrusters, verify equipment checks redundantly and make my way to Elohim. What could have happend to Zero, I just seen him as I left. I made sure that he seen me but not to recognize the acquaintance. With my new found code, I easily charted through LIBERTY space's tradelanes unnoticed, through pirate territory and up through the remnant BOSKO system.

Upon arriving at TchaTcha, the docking bay and several cooridors were scarred with blood and battle, plasma riffle burns and fragmented debris lay everywhere. Picking up my pace, I trudged through the emergency crew lights and the drone of the sirens going off once proximity of weapons discharge is confirmed. Turning a corner I see a medical crew rushing someone on a hovercart to the ICU; ITS ZERO!

Blasting through the station staff and cleanup crews, nearly knocking a few into tomorrow, I just miss the medical droids and staff slamming through a set of doors into the stations intensive care unit. Just as I get to the doors to follow, a quick zap and swooshing sound lock down the doors and a service droid intercepts my path. *NO UNAUTHORIZED ENTRANCE BEYOND THIS POINT* it blurts out in what has to be one of the most annoying sinthisized voices. "Out of my way droid" I command, but with the same thoughtless voice *NO UNAUTHORIZED ENTRANCE BEYOND THIS POINT*. Just as I am about to dismantle its pathetic excuse for a chassis, one of the medical staff hurries over and saves the pathetic pile of circuits. "What are you doing here?..This is a restricted medical facility for critical patients only. No visitors or non medical staff are allowed past this point per quarantine and isolation protocals" the doctor scowls. With the same scowl and an extra hint of authority, I reply: "I just received an urgent responce transmission that TchaTcha is under combat situations and was requested presence in light of Zero's automated distress signal. Now get out of my way and unlock these doors before I end your life with this droid". As the doctor raises his arms in a cowardly defensive stance, he realized just who I was. "Pilot MINDDRIVE, forgive me, I was unaware, as medical staff we must uphold and adhear to protocal", still arms raised crossed just in front of his chest, "Before we allow you to enter we must debreif you as to the situation of what had just happened". Relaxing, offering a more passive demeanor, and placing the droid back on the ground, the doctor leads me to one of the side rooms off the corridor. "Unfortunately Pilot MINDDRIVE, We cannot allow you to see Zero untill his implants have been stabilized and a dammage assesment can be calculated. His implants worked overtime keeping the critical organics alive within his body. You may see Zero in a few days"

Once the contents of the datapad were read, and survailance videos watched, I was escorted to the unit where Zero had been sent to recover. Thinking to myself how that seemed like the longest wait ever, a bleep echoed from my datapad. Checking the screen revealed my ship was refueled and repaired. "Hmm, repaired?" This puzzled me but not as much as seeing Zero in an ICU. Right before entering the room, the data screen next to the door revealed a single person had entered since the medics did their work. Tila. Shaking the name from my thoughts, I approached Zero with caution. His implants have been known to remain active for some time and may perceive non medical personel as a threat.

"ZERO....ZERO.... HEY...." A roll of the head confirmed he was consious enough for communication, his wounds scattered and fresh left him immobile for the time being. "What the hell? Really? That fast? I just seen you at the bar, can you not go 2 cycles without nearly blowing everything up in your wake? HAHHA Good to see them fools didnt get the best of you. I noticed your confusion when I passed you, sorry I was in great urgency to initiate one of my plans. I have stolen the Battleship Missouri, its technology and its secrets. In a single coupe de grace, I have infected all SIRRIUS's House systems with a viral code that is self replicating and self evolving. From the chaos of their security systems trying to fend off this code, they have revealed certain classified sub systems. The content of these subsystems have revealed itself to contain the databases used to identify pilots by scans. When I seen you at the bar, I was in the middle of confirming the data transfer and couldnt be bothered or recognized. My reputation in SIRRIUS thus far has been kept under breath for great reasons and even greater importance. I have hacked into all of the datasystems in every system using the GIR code as a distraction and found that the transponders are dynamic. The signal my ship sends out forces the receiving ships computers to throw a neutral/friendly code, but it doesnt stop there. Our HUD frequencies in our helmets eminate this same data. Ultimately we can come and go as we please in SIRRIUS. Brother...HEY BROTHER.... ZERO??!!!"

The grunt in Zero's face and then the sudden look of sirrenity gave light that the implants detected excessive pain and released neurological stims which ultimately incapacitated him. Though he was listening, it seemed that Zero was not in any cohearent shape to digest all that he just heard and right before his facial features contorted, it was obvious Zero was thinking of something else.... or someone....


"Sir, We are going to have to order you to leave now. His wounds are quite extencive and he must be left to heal. You have said your words and now you must go. APOC have reviewed your successes and your log files of your conquests. This is not a part of your battlefield nor are your mannerisms... You have been ordered to leave now go before you are stripped of your rank and left to die in space"

"OK OK... Im leaving. You tell me when hes consious again as though your life depended on it, and it does!" In any other circumstance, you would have paid with your life for those same words. Chain of command.... never argue with an enlisted medic... they can heal or destroy you *snaps fingers* Just like that. This, however, was a military issue that was the concern of all APOC. "I will be in my ship, when he comes to, you signal my ship immediately"

Now what were those damages?????? I thought to myself as I rushed to the docking bay......

[S31-Zero-Order]

I awaken the next day with Tila there waiting by my side, monitoring my medical signs from a nearby console. A small spike in my heart rate on the console caused her to look in my direction. "Glad to see you're awake!" she says with joy and a smile on her face. "It looks like your wounds are coming along nicely. I think you'll be fit and ready for duty again in a another day or two. Your medical implants are quite remarkable. They've increased your rate of recovery exponentially!" "Glad to know that I've got someone like you taking care of me, Tila. Were you escorting me to the ICU after I'd been shot? I thought I'd heard your voice." "Yeah, I was there. You were petty badly wounded. Your heart stopped mid-transit and I had to revive you," she says as she holds up the palm of her hand. I could see that she, too, has metal in her right hand just as I do. "Then you're the one I have to thank for saving me," I reply with a smile. I recline back onto the bed and watch out the window as the various shipping freighters pass to and from the station's ports. "What exactly happened while I was under?" "Well, your implants sedated you to block out the pain from your wounds after you were revived. We took you to the emergency surgery room shortly after arriving. Myself and the doctors worked on you for over six hours trying to keep you alive. Your intestines and stomach both had holes punched straight through them. Stiching those up took a while. After you were stable, we also went ahead to fix the fractures around your body. Hitting a wall and getting punched again and again isn't exactly good for you," she says with a sweet little laugh. "And," she begins, "metallic slug alloys are not exactly what the body needs to operate." She lets out a chuckle as she lifts up the small glass jar containing the rounds the doctors extracted.

"So, what now?" I ask. "You just need to lie down and rest while your medical implants get a chance to repair themselves. They were in overdrive trying to keep you alive in there. Any other person would have been finished from that fighting," she replies. "Good thing I'm not any other person," I respond. I lift up my sheets on the medical bed to check the progress and see that the bandages are no longer bloodied. "Being that you're generally the only one I see in here, I'm assuming that you're the one that changes these bandages as well." "Yep. That's dead on. I asked that they leave you under my care," she says as she leans slightly over the railing on the bed, her shoulder-length brown and blond hair dangling over my face. "Your survival suit was a bitch to get off," Tila says with a laugh as she walks back to the blood-pack holster on the wall, which was feeding into my arm with an IV needle. "Well," I begin, blushing, "glad to know you know everything about me." "Nope. Not everything," she responds with a wink.

Another doctor suddenly walks in with a datapad. She hands the small tablet to me, asking me to go to the hangar bay when available. It said that Mind was requesting my presence for a review on some kind of virus he'd let loose. I'd be able to visit him soon, maybe later tomorrow. I set it aside on the nearby night stand as the doctor walks out. "So, Tila," I begin, "how do you know so much about me? I'd never even heard of you or any other Prototype until yesterday." "They made sure to keep me behind the scenes. Even though we were only but 14 or 15 at the time, The Order didn't want any kind of emotional attachment between us. They were afraid it would disrupt your focus and mindset they wanted you to create. They only wanted you to fly, command, shoot, and kill. Nothing more. When you were in your combat pod aboard the Osiris and assuming control of your ship, I served as the ship's defensive weapons gunner. I was in a pod as well in the center of the ship. I had no control over movements of the flagship, but I controlled each turret. My skills were tested most when we were making a skirmish into Nomad territory. As you remember, when one of your missions had come to a close, a Rheinland Battleship decloaked next to you. We had no choice but to attempt a rescue, despite any damage the Osiris may suffer by doing so. As you and the rest of the remaining fighter wings rushed into the hangar bays, I held off the fighters and battleship below. You see, I've saved you more than once before," she finishes with a beaming smile. "Okay, that makes sense. Had I made friends or anything of the sort, I wouldn't sacrifice anything to save the life of one over many. I understand. Now, after they discharged me, what did you do?" "I was here. I was always monitoring your movements through your implants, station computers, cameras, anything I could make use of. I was shocked to see New Lille go up in flames as The Pillar of Fire launched volley after volley into the surface. It was kinda funny to see you on the Serius News giving your little speech. Anyone else would have been terrified. I guess Theron felt that you were then a blight on Serius afterwards. I always thought he was a pansy myself," she answers with a laugh.

"Okay, okay, so I'm not all big and bad underneath. There is actually a heart under all the tech. One more question and then I'll let you get back to watching me sleep," I say with a giggle. "You said before that you had the same implants as I do?" "That's correct," she responds. "Want to know why you and I are both tank-born?" "Sure, why not. Shoot. Wait... on a second thought, please don't. Yeah, I'd like to know why." "Okay. The Order did not always begin with tank-born Prototypes. We were created after a series of tests that were done on live subjects. People would sign up to recieve implants in The Order's facility on Toledo in the Omicrons. That being said, nobody was able to survive the implantations to the extent that you and I recieved them. All subjects kept dying shortly after their body rejected them. The Order canceled the project on live subjects, resorting instead to tank-grown babies. Genes were donated from various people all around Serius, allowing the genetic engineers to select and remove whichever genes they did or didn't want. This also allowed them to create the "perfect" Prototype. When the fetus reached the nervous system's development stage, the implants used for control over various techs were added in the spinal region. Those that allow you to assume control over ships were the products of the successful implantation. As the fetus would grow, the systems would build themselves around each setup allowing for a successful integration of tech into nervous tissue and flesh without side effects and possible physical deformities. The project in of itself was extremely controvertial and tremendously expensive. We were the only two successful Prototypes created before the project was terminated." She finishes with a proud look on her beautiful face.

I lean forward carefully and pull the upper half of the bed into a seat position and turn on the television. "I can't wait to get out of here," I say as I'm watching the screen. "That eager to get back to fighting are you?" Tila asks with a sudden lack of happiness. "Of course not!" I exclaim. "I've been lying here comatose in a hospital for a while. I want to go on vacation." "Really? Where to?" Tila inquires. "I was thinking of heading to Liberty Space. I'd like to go to Curacao. I hear it's beautiful there this time of year... Want to come?" I ask with a smile. Tila immediately perked up, jumping up and down clapping quickling. "Oh of course! I'd love to come!" She exclaims. "We'll stop by a new place I found in Colorado, first," I say. "It's in a little section of Tanya's Base."

[Zeta]

Hi all, these are the stories pulled from Tekagi's Tavern by request. If you need these moved, deleted, split up or whatever, please let a moderator (one above me) know and I'm sure it'll get done quickly

Thanks.

[MINDDRIVE]

****INCOMING TRANSMISSION
****CODE NAME: GIR VIRAL CODE****
****OBJECTIVE: DATA RETREIVAL****
****UNIT IMPLEMENTATION: SUCCESSFULL****
****VIDEO PLAYBACK: ENABLE****

GIR VIRAL CODE IN ACTION


****VIDEO ARCHIVE PLAYBACK COMPLETE****
****RETREIVE GIR UNIT****
****GIR UNIT RETRACTED****


Ah yes, another successfull mission. APOC now control all of the access knowledge of SIRRIUS space. Piloting through space never felt so easy. The diversionary tactics layed down prior to gaining this data was definately worth the efforts. Once the others receive word of this acheivement, our terror shall reign suppreme.

Now to destroy all traces of the code in SIRRIUS's data nodes.

****CHANNEL OPEN****
****TARGET: ALL GIR VIRAL CODE****
****TARGETS ACQUIRED****
****BEGIN SELF DESTRUCT BURN SEQUENCE****
****EFFECTED SYSTEMS: ALL CONTAINING GIR CODE SEQUENCES****
****BURN CYCLE INITIATED****
****5****
****4****
****3****
****2****
****1****
****BURN SEQUENCE COMPLETE****
****RETRO SCAN INITIATED****
****CONFIRMED: ALL CODE DESTROYED****

Pressing the button, I cant help think of all the systems that this thing infested. It will take days to sift through all the information that was retreived. The effective rate in which it spread has taught us much in preparing our own defences against attacks.

[MINDDRIVE]

wait??? WHAT??? pulled by request??? by whom? and why does it show that "I" am the topic starter???

If youre going to monitor and censor RP posts at will, a little foresight would be expected. And to be honest, if it continutes my RP on the forums can be considered dead. You open a door for stories to unfold and play out, then come back and edit and remove them at your convenience. How is this supposed to really be any free willed "tavern" if someone chooses to put some back story in with the rest just to have it edited and removed?????

I just wrote up another post in the tavern section that plays out to any reason that my character would be in the tavern to begin with. I cannot speak for anyone else but myself in terms of story line, other than I tried and play it off from all viewpoints subjective to my own.

I mean really? what kind of RP are you trying to establish? My character as a KNOWN killer and a threat to any and all other characters. HOW would i really technically get to this tavern after flying through all the other systems where lawfull people are all over the place shooting at me??? You have totally ripped my story apart and technically prevented me from coming to the tavern to begin with.....

[MINDDRIVE]

nevermind...

i just read this thread:

http://tekagis.com/i...wtopic=8827&hl=

my involvment with the tavern is done.... sorry to have troubled you with a story too complex

[MINDDRIVE]

throwing his datapad to the cockpit floor, MindDrive leaves the system.....

[Zeta]

What are you talking about? The story was never too complex, it just wasn't within the tavern, or even on that station for the most part, and that part was left in. I realize you said NVM, but I'm going to answer this one.

On the "Foresight" issue you refer too, this was talked about in the about page for what, a week? I'll check the dates and edit this later. As for the topic starter, it listed you because you had the earliest post chronologically in this post. I opened this one, but it put them in order.

What kind of RP and I trying to establish? A bar. That's all. I had even tried to find a point in the middle and said something about putting links that go back and forth as you enter and exit the bar. I'll find that one too, when I have more time. Honestly, I have no idea what the GIR code has to do with the Tavern, but I tried to open a line to involve it.

As for your involvement with the Tavern, that's not necessary. It's a neutral ground, doesn't matter if you are Killer or trader, but no one is forcing you to post there.

[S31-Zero-Order]

I wake the next morning to the Serius News Network doing a report on the fight in the Tchatcha CNC and about some kind of computer virus which was released into Serius' computer systems, spanning all over from system to system.

"-an apparent battle to the death," the female reporter continues as I begin to take notice, "between two people. One of which was the nutorious agent of APOC, known as Zero. The other was the station's Head Commander, Theron Dom Capella. The cause of the fighting between the two is unknown. The only detail privy to us is that multiple mercenary dropships were spotted at the landing bays. From the video feeds from cameras, the mercenaries were hired to lure Zero into a trap to be killed. Zero, as many of you all are familiar with, refused to lose the fight. After killing the false security team, he was spotted killing two more mercenary squads with explosives and heavy rifle rounds. Afterwards, he proceeded to Theron's office and the two engaged in a hand-to-hand combat duel that ended Theron's career and life. Further footage showed that the final of the four squads charged into the room from the unguarded elevator and seriously wounded Zero before they were all brought down by his retractable wrist blades. He was then rushed to Tchatcha Emergency Care in critical condition. No further information is available at this time. All information on Zero's past is barred within The Order, unobtainable to anyone but Orillion, their leader. In other news, the LSF plans to release a press conference regarding a new kind of computer virus which has enigmatically managed to infect most of the security and various other systems used in each station all across Serius. The origin of the virus is currently unknown, but investigators are still looking into the cause of the debauchle..."

"Wonderful," I think to myself. "I made the news." "Wow!" Tila exclaims enthusiastically. "That's the first time in a long time you managed to make the news. What about that virus? Do you know anything about it?" "Actually," I begin, "I think Mind was the one who released it. I'd been given a datapad by the nurse about the virus being prepped for release into the systems. I have no idea how he pulled it off, but he did. I gotta give him kudos for that one." She laughed as she went over to my bedside. She pulled back the covers to check my bandages, the white bands free and clear of any infection or coagulated blood. She grabs my hand and says, "It looks like you're ready to go. When do you want to leave?" I smile and reply, "Let's go ahead and go now. I don't want let the press pool up outside of here. We'd never make it out in any amount of time. Where's my suit and weapon?" She moves toward a locker and, by pressing her hand against a scanner, opens it, revealing my armor and machine gun fully repaired, reloaded and ready for reapplication. I hop up from the medical bed and proceed to don my suit. After getting it on and activated piece by piece, Tila returns from a small table at the back of the room, her hands cupped behind her back. "I made something for you," she says with a beautiful smile. She removes her hands from behind her back and opens them, revealing a necklace held together by extremely tiny plates of metal and my three nearly-fatal slugs attached. As I leaned toward her, she reached up to snap it behind my neck. The slugs shuffled freely from side to side across the thin metal. She leaned ever closer and rested her forhead against mine, looking into my eyes. I could see the glow of the visual implants within them. "I suppose I've got quite a bit to thank you for," I say. "Oh, yes, you do," she says with a devious smile, "but I'm just gonna have to get payment for it later she says." "Well now, I think it's time to go," I say nervously. She knew she'd got me. "Right behind you."

I have the bay security unlock and unhook the magnetic clamps keeping my fighter in place. The cockpit opens as I approach and I hop into my seat in the front of the cockpit. She jumps into the second seat behind me and the cockpit closes. "Where's the controls?" she asks, mystified. "Controls? Don't need em. Lean back into the seat. Your control implants will do the rest." She does so after me and I could hear her shuffling her feet nervously. "Oh my gosh! I'd forgotten what this feels like! I can see everything, anything beyond my sight, I know it's there!" I laugh. I'd felt the same way when I'd been fighting in the Nomad War for the first time. We depart the station, leaving all the bad memories behind. "Navigolus, take us to System: Colorado. Proceed to Station: Tanya's Base."

As we arrived at Tanya's Base, we stepped out of the cockpit and moved out of the S31 bay. Taking her by the hand, I guided her to the Tekagi's Tavern. My stay was half decent last time I was here, giving me the reason to return. The bouncer was still there, eyeing me and my companion. "Zeta says you can go in. Start trouble and I'll toss you out the nearest airlock if need be." I shrug it off. There's no reason to start something here. Not in this neutral territory. I brought my pistol with it clamped down to my side, deactivated and collapsed. As we entered, the security system didn't go off. It must have been triggered by an agressive action. Nontheless, I still shut down all offensive systems so I wouldn't have to reboot and reactivate them at the ship again. We step inside and take a seat in the very booth that I'd gathered the data from. Tila clings to my arm as we sit, leaning her head on my shoulder and toying with the necklace around my neck.

[Fleainator]

Continued from:
http://tekagis.com/i...o...t&p=2077634

Flea stepped out of the Tavern, and went to retrieve his things. He had left a short katana-type blade, a modular handgun, and some rubberized technician gloves, that had a small set of tools, such as a knife and screwdriver built into them. He had been bugged when told to leave them too, but he understood their potential use as weapons, especially the knife. He then went off to his ship, and pulled up a roster of known APOC members. He filtered out the list to only include those best known for terrorism- and espionage-related crimes. Only three names on the list remained. He then checked the satellite sensor logs in the system. Only two ships with APOC IFF codes had been reported or detected in the system. One of them was Zero, and the other...

This should have been so obvious. Oh well. Without Zero's particular choice of words, it might not have ever clicked.

He started his Hunter's main power system, and opened a channel on the station's flight control frequencies. "Docking control, this is Hunter Beta Twelve. Preparing for departure. Confirm clear exit path." A slight chuckled preceded the reply. "10-4, Hunter Beta Twelve. You are the second in the departure queue. Please stand by." Flea sighed. "Roger that. Standing by."

He watched as a large Uni Freighter slowly made its way into position. They were large, majestic looking ships, but not particularly famous for their maneuverability. He'd simply have to wait for the small titan to line itself up and take off. It was going so slowly that he could have simply zipped by and been out of the dock in seconds, but his recent drunken flying incident had hurt his rapport among the Liberty Navy and Police. He'd simply have to wait.

About a minute later, the Uni was finally ready, and roared off out of the dock. "Attention: Hunter Beta Twelve, this is Docking Control. You are cleared for immediate departure. Happy flying!" His ship was fully powered on by now, and Flea wasted no time in clearing the dock. It was time to start hunting.

He set a course for Proxima Centauri, and set off into the vast black of Sirius once more.

[S31-Zero-Order]

"Attention unknown ship," I hear over the fighter's comms, "you are now within our sensor range. Turn back now or you WILL be fired upon!" We were now within visual range of the APF - Mourning Star, an APOC-controlled frigate which serves as a sentinel for prison planets. The ship itself is a masterpiece. The engines are connected by a heavy pylon that stretches a few meters to the main section of the ship. Two fins pointed downward at a 90-degree angle sport the twelve support and six main engines at the rear. The main section itself rotates to simulate gravity, much like the older, outdated models of Earth spacecraft did centuries ago. Upon this rotational area, rests four divisions of two large drop pod chambers coupled with four small and two large batteries of turrets. The bridge is a solid section of metal and thick armor plating, sporting multiple CNC dishes around the sides. The top and bottom of the bridge command two enormous mass driver cannons, utilizing enough force to utterly annihilate a gunboat, corvette, or freighter. It'd also do a crippling amount of damage to any cruiser, frigate, or destroyer, while dealing moderate damage to anything larger.

The ship itself is not meant for assault-based combat, however. It's simply a guardian of our domain, or, in this case, a training ground for new troopers. You see, the Mourning Star's very name gives a clue as to its main purpose. The drop bays mentioned earlier jettison heavy combat mechs controlled by troopers from the ship. The ship itself orbits close enough over the planet to be seen as a "star" in the night sky. The sport of the Mourning Star is not one that many would find civilized, as the combat mechs are turned on the prisoners exactly one hour after a weapons cache has been dropped into the camp. When a cache comes down, the prisoners (mostly pirates who'd attempted to loot our freighters or captured military, police, or moronic corporation pilots who'd attempted to stop us in a raid) are alerted via one minute-long sirens and red lights. When the cache has landed, it's cool enough to open to grab the various weapons and munitions stored inside. As the mechs come down from a mile's distance from the camp, the prisoners must form defensive positions to survive. If they live through an onslought, they are deemed worthy to live and sent to a planet or base of their choice. This, however, doesn't not happen as often as one would think, even if only two or three mechs come down in one assault. In this scenario, the Mourning Star drifts over Planet Shemjaza in Elohim, directly over a large camp situated in the jungle. From its appearance, however, the ship has not yet launched a raid. Just as I'd hoped.

"APF - Mourning Star, this is Freelancer: Omega 1-0. I am requesting clearance to dock." I move my ship slightly closer, awaiting the clearance from the dock officer. "Freelancer: Omega 1-0, please transmit your ID codes and Docking Permissions." "Transmitting," I reply in my helmet. "Freelancer: Omega 1-0, you are cleared to dock. Welcome to the Mourning Star, Zero. We're honored to recieve a visit by the Quorum. Please proceed to dock three." A hatch on the space-facing side of the massive frigate opens as we move on a docking vector. As Tila and myself step from the cockpit, we are recieved by the ship's commander. "Welcome, Zero," he says. "I'm Commander Dom. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" "I'm here to test my friend on her combat skills," I reply. "I felt that it was time to see what she can do." I look to Tila with a smile. She returns it happily, nodding her head. "Very well," the Commander Dom nods in approval with a slight smile. "I feel you'll find our facility to be quite efficient and effective for the job. We have not yet launched our next raid on the prison colony below. You have time to customize your training mech with whatever you see fit. Please follow me and I'll lead you to your quarters (should you choose to stay a while longer), to the customization chamber, and to the uplink center." I look over to Tila and raise an eyebrow. "Stay longer?" she asks. "Sounds good to me," she says as she looks over to me with a wink. "Very well then," Dom says with a smile. "Where should we go?" "We'll go to the customization chamber, first," I respond with a nod. "Understood. Please follow me," he replies.

Dom is a larger man than I. He's got a tanned face with a large scar running over one eye. His eye, however, is not affected by whatever inflicted his wound. He stands about 6.5 feet tall, with a muscular build. He fills his commander uniform with ease, never seeming to be hindered by the tension in the cloth with every stride. His dark blue uniform turns to black as we pass from light to light in the corridor leading to the customization chamber, a large room which overlooks the mech bay. The mechs themselves stand at about 8 feet tall. That's without armor or weapons. I step in first, overlooking a mech which is being shuffled in front of me on a large conveyor. As the conveyor stops, a green-blue holographic diagram of the humanoid mech appears. First, I select the mech's armor to be made of chitin, a dense shell used in the exoskeleton of various insects across Serius. By extracting bio-matter from helpless victims, the armor can be repaired and replicated in any shape or form, shearing the damaged old sections of armor off. This, however, in any sense stronger than thick metal armor. It's lightweight and strong, but not quite as durable as the generic mechs used by training pilots. Afterwards, I alter the legs on the mech, giving it hydraulic pistons and powered joints for incredible speed. On the arms, the mech is already destructively powerful with the internal musculature, making it nearly impossible to fight one in hand-to-hand combat with anything less than power armor. I equip it with a blade on the right arm below the large syringe-tipped absorber used to reave bio-matter from whatever poor soul that stands against me. A grappling claw is also added above the syringe to hook onto a surface and swing myself with momentum... or to yank a helpless target into the suffering that awaits him or her. For the head, I add an optical system that allows me to both outline and flag objects and targets in the darkness or switch to thermal imaging apart from standard imaging. For the left arm, I add a five-barreled heavy rotary energy blaster so I wouldn't be totally defenseless in the open. For additional gear, I downgrade to light sheilding to divert more power into movement and add a motion detector. I press the "ACCEPT" button and the room ahead of me comes to life with motion. My mech's chitin armor is administered over the internal structure, then the weapons are added in the mounts and the extra gear is applied. As my tool of destruction stands before me at a little over seven feet tall behind the glass, I realize that one thing remains missing. I quickly change a small detail setting for the finishings, painting my mech black and causing it to glow with a red hue when it chooses to do so.

"Always the one for the dramatics," Tila remarks with her hands on her hips. A devious smile rested on her tanned beautiful face. "Now it's my turn." My mech is shuffled on the conveyor to the loading dock, awaiting instructions.

Tila assumes control of the design console and the same things present themselves before her. She, however, is obviously not one to prefer stealth. She shifts the armor on the mech to be made out of heavy iron and titanium plating. Immediately following, she selects the right arm and adds a pair of heavy rotary energy rifles. She then selects the right shoulder and plants a heavy rocket pod on the open hardpoint. For the left arm, she selects a heavy mass driver, generally used on APCs for general weaponry. From the test reports, the weapon draws moderate amounts of energy and can punch through incredibly thick armor. She adds a rocket pod to the left shoulder as well. For the legs, she chooses a massively slow, but durable movement system to support the incredible weight she's adopted for the mech. For the head, she chooses the same setup, but for the additional gear, she chooses a nanite factory for armor regeneration and a large shield generator and a massive power supply. She then applies silver paint and a red glow to the mech. She mashes the accept button as her devastating walking tank is assembled and moved toward the loading bay.

"I can see you're a fan of ungodly amounts of firepower," I state, giving her the same look she sent to me after I'd finished construction. She laughed at the scene. "Okay, okay, enough screwing around," she says. "Let's begin!" "Of course, ma'am. Please follow me to the uplink center," Dom replies approvingly. "This will be a great show for the recruits. Show them how it's supposed to be done."

[Fleainator]

Flea had only been in Proxima Centauri for a short time when he began to hear rumors from the locals of strange ships in Elohim. In the main spaceport's bar on Altair, he'd been able to learn that a new frigate was in orbit above Shemjaza in Elohim. His attempt to track down two particular members of the APOC Quorum had yielded little in the way of hard intel, so he decided that perhaps this new ship was worth a look. However, the science of infiltration wasn't an easy one to learn, and even harder to make a living off of. He'd have to leave his ship behind, or risk it being ID'd and shot down. Capture would be even worse, but APOC patrols weren't known for capturing truly dangerous opponents.

Capture... Hmm...

As he sat in the bar, a plan began to form. He knew from past experiences that there were a few lucky smugglers that had been granted safe passage through Elohim so long as they dropped off at least a dozen slaves on Elohim with every trip, and that those slaves were typically chosen as laborers aboard various APOC ships, where they quickly replaced other slaves who'd angered or bored the wrong officer. To be sold to the APOCs as a slave was to all but be guaranteed an early and painful death. The more skilled slaves were the most likely to survive, and some of them would go on to demand a trial of membership. Most who did so ended up dying violently in single hand-to-hand combat, but occasionally, they'd win and be welcomed as a brother.

He wouldn't have time to rise through the ranks in such a way, and even if he tried, he'd likely be discovered by a whimsical background check or someone recognizing him, so subtlety was going to be the best option. Storybook heroics never did to a good job of justifying the mind-blowing odds that the heroes would cheat over and over again. Flea had been luckier than most, but he knew that he was no storybook hero. It was a fact that he didn't think of himself as a hero at all.

The first thing to do was to disappear. He set his ship's autopilot, and had his Hunter launch from the planet, without a single person seeing him stay behind. He then set about changing his appearance, in a dark room somewhere, hidden from prying eyes. The tools of the infiltration trade came with many ways of changing an appearance: hair extensions, fake scars and tissue, and a tattered rag headband that would cover up a "bad" eye. The slightest bit of spray-on tan and a shave of his short beard down to thick stubble completed the transformation. Now he had to find one of those smugglers.

---

"You want WHAT?" The freighter's captain nearly choked on his drink. "You're a fool. I already have a shipment of rightly captured slaves. You know what those guys do to slaves, don't you?" The captain coughed again, a short burst of hacks to make sure his lungs were clean.

"Of course I understand. I've got a bad past with the law, enemies here, and a set of skills I can't use anywhere. If they kill me, I'm no worse off than I am now. I could even pay you to take me on. I could try and steal some parts from your docked ship's engines, if you really need a reason to take me." Flea slid him a small, dinged up datapad. The number of credits on the screen wasn't all that much, but it must have stirred something in the smuggler captain's mind.

"Alright, I'll take you. You're not the first to try and join them this way, you know. I've taken others, too. They wanted to write their name into the books with blood. All but one of 'em have had their own blood used for the writing, but who am I to turn down some easy money? You are now in my custody, Mister...."

Flea smiled. "I picked up the name 'Roach' as a mechanic. The boys said I was good at scrambling in and out of compartments and under ships."

---
-----

The freighter departed later that day, making for Elohim. Flea had been forced to leave most of his gear behind in his own ship, which would be idling in a scanner deadzone behind Shemjaza in Elohim space, waiting to be recalled. What he had kept were his short ceremonial blade - strapped to his calf and hidden under a set of long, tattered, techie cargo pants, and a broken-down modular pistol, with the parts scattered among the work tools in his duffle bag and pockets.

The general rule for slaves was that if they were skilled enough to defend themselves, they were allowed to keep their weapons. It was simply APOC's standing ideal of survival of the fittest. Only the laborers working near or in the residential areas were forbidden to own weapons, and to attack an APOC officer was tantamount to suicide, and you'd be promptly executed... unless you succeeded and took his place.

Flea was in a passenger compartment, complete with windows. This smuggler pitied his captives, and allowed them to travel in a little bit of comfort before they were taken and put to their torturous work. He walked up to the observation screen and was just barely able to make out Elohim in the distance. The smuggler would recommend that be be put to work as a mechanic, and would share a story about him saving the ship from a life-support failure on their way here. He chucked nervously and shook his head.

This is either the best or the worst idea I've ever had.

[S31-Zero-Order]

The bridge section of the ship was a large room which spanned the distance of a few hundred feet long by 300 or so feet wide. The room itself was encased in heavy armor, lined with control consoles and many uplink terminals. For myself, however, there were special chambers designed specifically for my neural uplink in the back. The center of the room itself was alive with recruited troops learning basic combat skills in simulations, talking amoungst one another, and reviewing standings on statistics sheets, understanding what they need more training on and recieving rewards based on progress in the form of weapons, armor, and tech upgrades. The center of the room was depressed with two circular steps leading into a kind of auditory pit. Above the auditory pit were five large screens showing the current viewpoints of those utilizing the uplinks currently. When sending down a raiding party, the screens are prioritized to show only the viewpoints and HUD of pilots currently in action. That should make things quite entertaining for the observing recruits. The forward section of the bridge is currently in use by the various operations officers who govern gunnery, movement, sensors, and various other systems. Each either stood or sat in front of a console or holoscreen, consistently monitoring the ship's status.

"This is an impressive vessel, Commander. I'd love to see what it's like during a live exercise." "This is indeed a fine ship, sir. I work constantly to keep it up to snuff and in impecable order," he responds proudly. "Commander," one of the communications officers called. "I've got something you might want to see." "Yes?" Dom asks expectantly. "I've got a report from the Proxima Centauri Gate Controller. He says an unidentified craft had entered the system and headed on a path toward Shemjaza. There were no life signs aboard the vessel. That's why he didn't take it out." I make my way over to her. "What is the ship classification?" I ask. "What is it's make and model?" "It's a heavy fighter, sir. A Hunter heavy fighter," she replies, never ceasing to look away from the screen or remove her wire-frame headset. "A Hunter? Well now! I think I might know what that may mean. Are there any transports moving from the gate as well?" I think I have an idea what's going on. Common sense tells me that we're gonna have some unexpected company shortly. And he may be on his way here. "There's multiple transports offloading slaves at Tchatcha, but there are three who've passed the station and are headed toward our position," she responds. "This ship is too valuable to take slaves. We cannot afford the possible risk it might entail should we accept them here," the commander chimes. "I see..." I reply, considering how I could resolve this problem. "Are there any other large ships within the area?" I ask. "With the exception of the Gate Controller dreadnoughts, no. They do not take slaves either. Slaves are reserved for cargo ships, corvettes, and smaller gunboats. Aboard stations, they're easily controlled by the security while they're kept in smaller numbers." "Well now, I think I have our solution," I say. "Commander, if a transport requests to dock with our ship, let it do so. Do NOT, however, let anyone off. Under any circumstances. We have a possible infiltrator on his way." Commander Dom nods in acknowledgement. "I guess I'll wait here until you return?" Tila asks. "Afraid so. These recruits will keep ya safe, though," I respond with a smile, holding her by her waist. She kisses me and tells me to come back soon. She then wanders over to one of the uplink pods and joins with it to play in a simulation.

"Commander, I'll be at my ship readying myself. Prepare multiple security details and stand by for any incomming traffic." I jog back to my ship and pop the hatch, donning my solid black and blue-stripped combat helmet and pulling my collapsed machine gun from its rotational holster.

[Fleainator]

The smuggler's freighter continued towards the frigate, and then slowed down to a near stop some distance away.

They're just requesting to dock. Relax and focus on what's in front of you.

Flea was at work in the engine room. During the short trip, there had been some engine "trouble," and Flea had volunteered to try and fix it. None of the other mechanics had understood how it happened, but Flea did. Luckily for him, these mechanics weren't the sharpest lot. They were excellent workers, and amiable enough, but none had thought to wonder how the main circuits for the power output and cooling system had been fried. What they did know was how to keep the engines from critically overheating, and that several components would need to be replaced if the ship was to safely fly at cruise speeds. That was just what Flea had needed to have happen.

Flea looked up from his work and addressed the senior mechanic of the ship's crew. "Sorry, but I can't do much else. I was able to do a temporary patch job that would let you run for a while at about 450 meters per second, but not the full 900. You'll need some new parts, and it would be wise to go ahead and replace the engines themselves. They're too badly damaged from the overheating to safely function for much longer."

The grizzled old mechanic stroked his long, white beard before answering. "Looks like yer right, son. Cap'n won't be too happy about this, but we c'n get the replacement parts for about a run's worth of tradin', so I don't think h'll care about the cost too much. These engines have been pushed so hard fer so long, they were ripe fer this sort of thing to happ'n. " He then took a more serious tone. "Frankly, I'm more worried 'bout being stuck on an APOC ship. They like us enough fer bringing slaves, but... I'm concerned about staying on one of their ships any longer than I have te. Speakin' of APOCs, are ya sure you wanna join up with them? We could use a mechanic on the crew as good as ya are, son. In fact, I'll go ahead an' ask the Cap'n."

Flea smiled, almost blushing. "Well sir, I'll certainly consider it. Smuggling does sound like a fun line of work." I just hope your captain's good standing with APOC keeps you guys safe. Your captain may be a smuggler and a slave trader, but you're just a good, honest wrench monkey.

The freighter began moving again, and in minutes they were docking. The freighter's captain approached Flea on the observation deck. "Roach, old Davis says you're an excellent mechanic, and that you'd be a great addition to my crew. I've always trusted his advice, so I'd like to invite you to stay on the ship. You're far more likely to live a successful life with us than you are with the likes of them." Flea chuckled. "That's kind of you, captain. Would it be alright if I waited to decide until you're ready to leave? You know that the engine repairs may take a couple of days. I can stick around and help with the work, and then I could decide whether or not to join your crew, sir." The captain considered the reply, then nodded his head, patted Flea on the shoulder, and left the small deck to return to the ship's small bridge.

The freighter was allowed to dock, and upon landing, was greeted by an unsettlingly large welcome party. Flea's mind and heart began to race, and he had to fight to control them both. This is probably how they usually do things. There's plenty of people who'd like to walk into one of their ships, guns blazing. For now, I can look at this freighter's exterior engines and start pulling out the parts that will need to be replaced. The captain and two of his crew went out to talk with the leader of the welcome party. The captain and his two guards jumped and raised their hands over their heads when the entire guard contingent leveled their weapons at them. Flea's heart lept into his throat. What?! Impossible! There's no way they can know that I'm on this ship! After an extended conversation from across the docking bay, and an apparent tele-com call by the lead officer, the captain was allowed to approach the officer and speak with him. They spoke for a while and the captain gestured towards the freighter's engines. The APOC officer continued to look at him suspiciously, but didn't give the small army behind him any orders. Instead, they shook hands, and most of the welcome party guards left with the officer, who was too far away for Flea to recognize him. The shipment of slaves were herded out, but forced into a corner of the dock near the freighter, where they'd be watched by guards, and outnumbered two-to-one.

Flea joined the freighter's senior crewmen and waited at the main hatch for the captain, who returned sweating bullets and looking just short of wetting himself. "Boys, they'll let us stay, and they'll sell us the parts we need... for ten times what they're worth. I'm in no position to barter or make demands, so we'll have to pay up." This visibly upset some of the crewmen, but none of them spoke. "You know how these guys live and work. We're lucky they're letting us stay here at all. One of them could decide on a whim that they want us out, and we'd get blasted out of this dock faster than you can say 'Dom Kavosh.' So, we'll ride this out like we do everything else, and do some extra running to make up the difference. Understood?" The entire crew nodded in loose unison, and they began returning to their stations or quarters. However, the mechanics instead went outside. Flea went out with them. They'd start pulling out irreparable components now, and start fixing what was salvageable.