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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda gestured Taya back into the ship, the girl was quick to take advantage of the chance to get out of the potentially dangerous situation, all but running up the ramp. She might tell herself that she would be more useful inside the ship and maybe that was true, but truthfully Junebug just wanted her out of the way. There were a million ways this exchange could go wrong and shooting the Highlanders crew to save the forty million was both the most likely and the most difficult to avoid.
The aliens in the armor snorted and yipped at each other their communication undecipherable to human ears. Junebug watched them with studied boredom her plasma rifle cradled casually but within only a few degrees of the armored killers. In the ancient struggle between weapons and armor, weapons were currently in the lead. Nothing a man could carry would do much to stop a plasma bolt. Even ablative armor would transmit a bone shattering shock as the superheated plasma detonated on its surface. Powered armor was more effective and could be plated heavily enough to withstand the shock, but it sacrificed movement. Mechs and the like were more akin to light vehicles than armored infantry. Sayeeda figured if this went south she could take at least one and probably both of the alien gunmen down but it didn't mean she was eager to try conclusions. One of the creatures, sensing her regard made a crude leer running a purplish tongue over its fangs. Sayeeda winked without allowing her face to lose its bored expression, gannering another burst of garbled alien chittering.
Further by play was interrupted by Neil returned carrying the small chest in which the *BLANK* was stored. The guards and the young woman who was apparently going to perform the assay quited in anticipation. The pilot set the case down on the grease stained floor and flicked both the latches open with a theatrical flourish.
"Behold!" he cried, throwing the lid open and posing dramatically. The soft glow of the *BLAN* pulsed from within the chest, illuminating falling dust motes in its pure light. Neil looked a little crestfallen.
"No one appreciates a show," he muttered. Sayeeda noticed that his revolver was tucked into his belt, within easy reach for a quick draw. Apparently she wasn't the only one concerned about the number of ways things might go wrong. The woman, Junebug never got her name, pulled a bulky but portable scanner from a bag and ran it over the *BLANK*. For an endless minute the machine beeped and whired before the aide, or whatever she was, finally tucked the scanner away.
"It appears to be genunine," she said, her voice a little to netural to be believable.
"Where did you say you got it from?" she asked. Junebug rolled her eyes.
"We stole it from the Pirate King and he is going to sail his fleet of dreadnoughts in here and wreak horrible vengeance on whoever holds the cursed treasure. Anyone who toucheth it wilt surely perish excetera and if this is the part where you try to talk us down from our price because its soooo dangerous, then you can just be on your way and we will find another buyer," Junebug sneered. The aliens stiffened, gripping their weapons. Junebug negligently lifted her rifle to point at the closes gunmen though her face still appeared bored rather than threatening. The aides face was dark with an unpleasant emotion.
"Very well, we will pay your asked price, but you should know that…"
"Yeah yeah, no one disrespects the boss, we get it," Junebug finished, lowering her rifle as the aliens took their own hands away from their weapons.
"Take the goods," the aide told the aliens.
"No," Junebug and Neil spoke simultaneously, paued to look at each other and then turned back to their guests.
"I know we are all friends and everything, you know you being infamous gangsters and we being some randoms who never made port here till yesterday, but just for the hell of it, lets assume we want to see the money before we hand over the goods."
"You are a very irritating woman Captain Cyckali," the aide said, clenching and unclenching her fists. Junebug smiled toothily.
"And just to be sure no one gets any weird notions, lets do the hand off somewhere neutral, one of those casinos should do fine."
"The Golden Nebula," Taya's voice sounded in her mastoid implant. The girl was good, listeninging into the conversation and doing her own research as she went.
"THe Golden Nebula, lets say three hours from now?" Junebug went on as though she had come up with the name.
"That is hardly enough time to get the money toge…" the Aid protested.
"Well then I guess we will have to take our bussiness elsewhere after…" the aide through up her hands in disgust.
"FINE!" she snapped and whirled on her heel, practically storming out of the building flunkies in tow. Junebug grinned, Neil gave her his 'what the fuck was that' expression as he pulled his revolver from his belt. She shrugged a little sheepishly.
"Sorry, it has been days since I shot anything, guess I'm a little tense."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The Pilot laughed. "Don't worry, with our luck I'm sure we'll shoot something real soon." he said with a wink, snapping up the trunk and lifting up the near-priceless object. He shook his head as he relayed the scene that had just played out. "Acting like we'd just give them the stone. They idiots?"
"I think they think we're the idiots." Sayeeda said, hands on her hips.
"How could we be idiots? We have some fucking Aestimobium."
"And how did we get it?" She asked Neil, raising an eyebrow.
He sighed. "...By being idiots." Sayeeda smirked. Taya's voice rang over the comms. "If you two are done, let's get in here and discuss what exactly we plan on doing." The hanger was still empty, but Neil realized it was probably for the best they talked further inside. A devil in the back of Neil's head made him say. "Yeah, before the Captain shoots somebody." He felt a woosh of air behind the nape of his neck right as he leaped forward, and he ran into the Highlander with Sayeeda right on his heels until Neil spun and held the Aestimobium in front of himself. Sayeeda hid a smile, and just pointed at him.
He placed the mineral down on the table after she sat down, and he sat down too, thinking he was safe. The boot that stomped on his foot relieved him of such notions, but they were both laughing after Neil cursed. In a moment however, Sayeeda went back to business and began. "So..." she said, her tone brooking no room for anything else but making a plan worth executing. "we go to the Golden Nebula. Did either of you see any good places for guns to hide in the Cantina?"
"I could barely see anything." Taya said, the cloak that had been wrapped around her head now snug on her shoulders once more.
"There's probably plenty of places to the left when you enter, where the crowds and dancers are." Neil pointed out. "But on the right, the sit down bar and tables are probably where we'll do the transaction. We can't exactly flank or hide either, they've seen both of our faces and Taya isn't the best gun, no offense."
Taya's face gave a clear 'none taken, seriously' as if she wanted to be as far away from any gun as possible.
"Then we'll just need to sit in the corner near the door, and wait. Or if they already have a table for us, we don't sit next to each other." She said to Neil, and he nodded. They needed eyes everywhere. "Taya, give us your cloak." The girl blinked, but did as she was told, and Sayeeda wrapped it around the Aestimobium container.
Neil spoke up next. "They'll never guess we have a container now."
Needless to say, he had to dodge Sayeeda again.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The Golden Nebula was not what Sayeeda had imagined from a dingy crime world, though perhaps it should have been. Neoclassical dance music thrummed like a thunderstorm as they stepped through the security checkpoint and into the interior. Just as Taya had said the establishment employed sophisticated biometric scanners, though the expensive units were almost completely recessed into large palatial columns. The security was well armed and obvious but also clean enough to hint at respectability. Also, just as Taya had said, neither the Aestimobium nor the pair of pistols concealed beneath it triggered the sensors. One of the metals many properties was the release of energy in the form of radiation. The radiation was poorly understood but seemed to have no harmful effects on humans. Apparently it was also enough to smother the electronic signatures of the hardware. Sayeeda kept her face pleasant but she really wished they could have bought more hardware. In theory the weapon restrictions applied to their 'business partners' too, but Junebug was to familiar with breaking rules to put much stock in that slender protection.
"I still say we should have pulled a last minute move, somewhere I could have covered with a rifle," the mercenary griped. She was dressed in a skin tight body suit of dark gray, almost black synthetic polymer. It was the sort of thing that a jet bike rider might wear and was judged by Taya to be not too far out of the ordinary for the Nebula. The plus was that it let her wear combat boots, those these were new, black and buffed to a high sheen rather than her worn tan favorites. A band of black enameled metal encirled her brow, keeping her now almost shoulder length hair out of her face. She really needed to find time to get it cut, or at least buzz it so that her helmet would fit properly again.
"Will you give it up," the long suffering Neil responded as they ascended a broad stairway. The interior of the casino was massive and open. Games of chance of every conceivable sort ringed a huge central space. Not only the ground but the walls and ceiling were covered also. Antigrav plates had been installed to allow a guest to walk up the walls or over the ceiling. Bars and drinking establishments stood out like barbs on the wall and celing. THe central space was a vast zero gravity dance floor. Launch points were marked on the floor where the gravity was low enough that one could jump into the field. Smaller grav points flashed in and out of existance as bars of neon lights. Hundreds of people flipped and spun overhead, gyrating with wild excess that would have been impossible in normal grav.
"Whoa," Junebug said, impressed inspite of herself.
"Also what is this like nine dimensions of fire arcs to worry about? Remind me to kill Taya."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil had managed to get together some of the scrap from within the docking bay, and after haggling a bit with the local populace, he managed to quickly fashion and weld some believable, makeshift armor and clothing to better blend in. Oh he'd did not look well off. The leather overwrapped plates of steel on his torso and the ragged workman's clothing made him seem far more like a high ranking junker ganger than anything, or perhaps a shoddy bodyguard to the far more impressive looking Sayeeda. But he certainly wasn't himself. He'd even gotten some soot and pressed it across his face to better give off a local impression.
"Yeah, no kidding," he mumbled in reply to the Captain's comment. He doubted anyone above them would be a good enough shot to actually attempt to take one, but still. It gave them a slightly more vulnerable feeling. Neil clutched the cargo he carried in his left hand a bit harder, and scanned the crowd for any signs of the meeting. It occurred to him now that they had not discussed with Gnorlaac's second on if they were meeting her specifically or one of Gnorlaac's other goons. Luckily, after a moment of searching they found her in the crowd at a table. Small wonder that every table that sat around her and her two guards were nearly empty, save a few bums that were either concealed hitmen or were too dumb to actually take a hint and leave.
"If she doesn't have the money, I don't even care if we get killed, she's going down." Neil said.
"Just keep calm." Sayeeda told him, though she sounded like she was on edge as much as he was.
"So, you decided to join us my... good friends." Yrla said once they had approached her, and she indicated for them to take a seat. If Neil had a knife he could cut the tension. He'd just need to settle for his loaded revolver if push came to shove. Neil pulled out a seat for Sayeeda, and when she seated he took his own seat. He saw Yria, Sayeeda, the guards, and two of the low class cantina residents eyes followed the wrapped container as he set it on the table.
"So...this is it?" the dark skinned woman asked, eyeing them suspiciously. "You know I'll need it shown to me."
"The money first." Neil said, causing Yria to give an incredulous laugh. Neil just grinned, speaking up. "You wire the money to us. We verify it. Once we have it, we give this to you. If you aren't satisfied, you can kill us." It was matter of fact and simple, but the 'killing them' part would not be so easy. In a crowded Cantina, even one owned by Gnorlaac, a firefight wouldn't be ideal. However, if Neil and Sayeeda planned on stealing from him, it would be justified, which meant in order for everyone to be happy, the deal would go as planned...</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil had managed to get together some of the scrap from within the docking bay, and after haggling a bit with the local populace, he managed to quickly fashion and weld some believable, makeshift armor and clothing to better blend in. Oh he'd did not look well off. The leather overwrapped plates of steel on his torso and the ragged workman's clothing made him seem far more like a high ranking junker ganger than anything, or perhaps a shoddy bodyguard to the far more impressive looking Sayeeda. But he certainly wasn't himself. He'd even gotten some soot and pressed it across his face to better give off a local impression.
"Yeah, no kidding," he mumbled in reply to the Captain's comment. He doubted anyone above them would be a good enough shot to actually attempt to take one, but still. It gave them a slightly more vulnerable feeling. Neil clutched the cargo he carried in his left hand a bit harder, and scanned the crowd for any signs of the meeting. It occurred to him now that they had not discussed with Gnorlaac's second on if they were meeting her specifically or one of Gnorlaac's other goons. Luckily, after a moment of searching they found her in the crowd at a table. Small wonder that every table that sat around her and her two guards were nearly empty, save a few bums that were either concealed hitmen or were too dumb to actually take a hint and leave.
"If she doesn't have the money, I don't even care if we get killed, she's going down." Neil said.
"Just keep calm." Sayeeda told him, though she sounded like she was on edge as much as he was.
"So, you decided to join us my... good friends." Yrla said once they had approached her, and she indicated for them to take a seat. If Neil had a knife he could cut the tension. He'd just need to settle for his loaded revolver if push came to shove. Neil pulled out a seat for Sayeeda, and when she seated he took his own seat. He saw Yria, Sayeeda, the guards, and two of the low class cantina residents eyes followed the wrapped container as he set it on the table.
"So...this is it?" the dark skinned woman asked, eyeing them suspiciously. "You know I'll need it shown to me."
"The money first." Neil said, causing Yria to give an incredulous laugh. Neil just grinned, speaking up. "You wire the money to us. We verify it. Once we have it, we give this to you. If you aren't satisfied, you can kill us." It was matter of fact and simple, but the 'killing them' part would not be so easy. In a crowded Cantina, even one owned by Gnorlaac, a firefight wouldn't be ideal. However, if Neil and Sayeeda planned on stealing from him, it would be justified, which meant in order for everyone to be happy, the deal would go as planned...</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Yria laughed. It was a bitter mirthless sound, like glass shattering. The music thrummed conclusively and the zero gravity dance above grew more intense. Sayeeda watched as items, dropped drinks and personal items floated to the sides of the zero g bubble and slipped efficiently into disguised collection tubes. Presumably they were stored somewhere and those foolish enough not to secure their belongings could collect them.
"Believe it or not there is little profit in double crossing you," Yria said as she tapped her fingernail on a glass of some sort of fizzy liquor. The woman's tone was slightly regretful. It was probably true, after the way they had marched into Gnorlaac's lair and declared what they were offering. It had been a risky move, to let people know the treasure they carried, but it also meant Gnorlaac had to be careful about simply murdering them out of hand. It would be bad for business. There was no honor among thieves, but a certain ruthless practicality did prevail.
"We are willing to make the transfer provided you have the merchandise with you?" In lieu of a response Sayeeda hefted the case onto the table between them and cracked the lid. The precious mineral shone its soft glow. Yria lifted the lid slightly with a fingertip, revealing shaped explosive packed into the roof of the case. She arched and eyebrow at the pair of mercenaries.
"One can never be too careful," Sayeeda said, her tone a touch defensive. Yria snorted and waved to one of her thugs who took out a datapad and began to type. Sayeeda felt a slight thrill imagining the money that was about to be deposited.
"The account number please…" Yria's forehead exploded in a spray of blood and brains. A piece of bone traced a bloody line across Sayeeda's cheek. The boom of a large calibre gun was deafening and people began to scream. One of the guards leapt to his feet upending the table in a spray of spilled liquor. Another grabbed for his pistol, pulling it free of the holster with a snap. Sayeeda swung the case by the handle, slamming into the temple of the would be gunmen. The thug collapsed to the floor a half a heart beat before three more booming shots ricocheted off the metalized floor nearby. Screaming panic spread through the crowd. A half dozen other concealed guns appeared from nearby guests. It wasn't a coordinated ambush just other low lives who were able to beat the scanners.
"What the fuck is going on!" Sayeeda screamed at Neil as she pulled her own pistol from the bottom of the case. With a flick of the wrist she tossed the second weapon to Neil and dove sideways behind the low bar to seek cover.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil hit the bar hard, holding the gun Sayeeda tossed him. It wasn't his usual firearm, just your average handgun, but it was better than nothing. He couldn't have seen what he just saw. It was impossible. He must have gotten brain matter in his eye or something. His face was covered with blood and bits of Yria. "Stay down, let me check something." he yelled to the Captain, and got to his feet in a crouch, before slowly lifting his head. As he did so, through the myriad of gunshots he heard three consecutive 'booms', as if a small cannon was being discharged.
The scoundrel poked his head over the counter to see over a dozen dead patrons and Gnorlaac guards limp and lifeless, strew across broken tables. Seven guards, a group of four to the north and a group of three facing their adversary were still alive. It was an opponent that was difficult to see, as if light blended around him and cloaked his considerable bulk. One of the guards fired at the near-hidden enemy, only to be suddenly lifted off his feet, and with a quick jerk his entire spine was shattered. "Better make that six." Neil said to himself.
The hail of lasers and bullets flying about hit something vital on the enemy's armor, and the cloaking device dissipated to reveal a Hexanagallion of ferocious proportions. It moved with the grace of a hunting cat, though it had the bulk of a bull and the armament of a light tank. Its ripper gun shot 11 millimeter long shards of durasteel shrapnel, collected in iron bullets that tore through men and most personnel armor. It shot through two barrels, tearing through every enemy in sight whilst it simply stepped on the closest foe, its sauren-like claws digging into their chest. But that wasn't the terrifying part.
The terrifying part was that Neil recognized this Hex. He dropped back down and hugged the wall, his face speaking volumes. "Wha-" Sayeeda began, but she was interrupted by shouting coming from deeper within the Cantina. "Never thought I'd be glad to hear more gangers coming our way." Neil said, and he grabbed Junebug's hand. "Follow me," he told her, both staying crouched as they moved around the circular bar to the other side. Once they got to the otherside, Neil hugged the next wall and clung to his gun like a lifeline. "Saxon is acting crazy, I think seeing me made him go blood-drunk because usually he's far more subtle."
Neil peaked out again and saw a man get tossed across the Cantina with inhuman strength, followed closely by the near impossible speed of the pouncing Hexa, breaking bones and tearing through the last remaining guards with finesse using Xarconian wrist blades. "We have to get to the back door. Now!" They began to bear crawl, moving past scantily clad dancers and drunk patrons huddled under their tables. The music was luckily still going. As they made it to the door, a roar reverberated off the walls, echoing Neil's surname before the door slid shut behind them. They were now in a deadend alleyway.
Neil wiped the sweat off his brow, slumped. "How is he still alive? Jesus Christ."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Jesus Christ?" Sayeeda asked as she glanced down the trash filled alley. It was cleaner than most she had seen on the Smuggler's Moon, but that was hardly much of a compliment. The barrel of her pistol shimmered with the heat of rapid fire and her hand gripped the case with white knuckles. Junebug was used to risking her own life, but the prospect of losing millions of credits worth of merchandise was a new one .
"Is that its name?"
The wall beside them shrieked like a diamond saw biting into hull plating. A billowing cloud of dust exploded into the alley moments before the wall exploded outwards in a screaming gush of masonary. The muted screams and gunfire from inside the club redoubled in volume as a six foot hole was ripped in the wall by a combination of gunfire and brute strength. The Hex leaped through the settling dust with a roar that shook the world. Junebug shot it twice in the chest, but either its body armor was sufficient to stop the pistols light slug or the thing was simply too tough to care. It swung its fist at her with deceptive speed and she just had time to raise the case to block the blow. The metal ceramic case crumpled like a crushed soda can and the force of the blow lifted Junebug and smashed her into one of graffiti covered walls. Her breath exploded from her chest as she fell among the trash. The pistol and the case clattered to the ground in opposite directions.
The Hex screamed something that might or might not have been 'Edwards!' and leveled its gun at the pilot. Junebug distinctly heard the screech of the mechanism jamming, but the Hex didn't hesitate. It leaped at Neil, intent on tearing him limb from limb.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"Sayeeda!" Neil cried, before his eyes went wide and he ducked in the nick of time. He kicked off the wall and slid between the Hex's legs as the massive Saurien slammed into the wall, causing bits of material to flake and fall. There was a predatory way he moved that set him apart from most Hexanagallion's. It caused a chill to crawl up his spine. Still, Neil knew Saxon and he'd evaded him this long. At the edge of his vision, he saw a brilliant glint. It was hard to shatter Aestimobium, but even if it was broken, the shards were still worth a fortune.
"Whoa, whoa big fella!" Neil said as Saxon turned, his massive fist leading. Neil had to squirm and roll out of the way, the fist leaving a dent in the alleyway floor. "If you rip me to shreds they won't recognize my body for the bounty, remember!?" Neil had rolled backwards and took out his pistol. FUCK, he didn't have his heavy revolver. He'd gotten that thing just so he could penetrate Saxon's armor!
Still, there were vital spots. Neil let off two rounds, but it only grazed the side of the Hax's snarling face. "Shit!" was all he managed before the Hexanagallion grabbed Neil by the shirt and shoved him against the wall, knocking out his breath and nearly breaking his collarbone. In fact Neil felt he had broken or damaged something. There was a coppery taste in his mouth.
There was a guttural snarl that escaped the mandibles of the brutal bounty hunter. "I'll break the bones in your arms and legs." The sound of him speaking sounded like rocks grinding against each other. Neil knew the only way to stall was to keep talking. Saxon never did like to talk but he still had to try.
"How the hell did you get off that rock?" Neil asked him. It was something he was very fascinated to find out about. The last time he had seen Saxon, the Hex was in the jaws of a Maw Worm on an asteroid, Neil having stranded him there. Saxon answered as eloquently as always. "Tore out of its stomach. Had a locator beacon."</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil felt as if he had died, but after a moment, when the fog had lifted from his jarred mind, he realized death couldn't be this uncomfortable. His mind was too shaken, and his body was even worse. He found himself face down in the rubble, and what luck remained with him kept him from being crushed. Instead he felt nauseous and utterly weak. It was fortunate he had been a bit further away than Saxon or Sayeeda, but not by much.
Shakily, and pausing at least four times, he slowly pushed himself up. Meanwhile, the Hexanagallion gazed at Sayeeda with a fury. He was far weaker now than he had been, and a hunk of metal had been rammed into his side. But he was strong enough to shove Junebug off. The Captain hit the ground rolling, which only caused her to curl up and vomit. Unsteadily, the Xenos got to one knee, and then did his best to rise.
"Captain!" Neil called, his voice croaking at the effort. He crawled over to her, having gathered one of their lost pistols on the ground. He helped her sit up slowly. It was very likely Saxon sought to crush them both then and there, his incredibly durable biology letting him remain standing even after that. But shots rang out around them, missing them but ricocheting off the walls dangerously close to them.
Neil pointed his gun at Saxon. Normally it would do little to him, but the Xenos hesitated a second time. His armor and physiology had been torn up in various places. "Ah, ah, ah..."
The Hex growled, a guttural clicking sound that echoed off the enclosed rubble they found themselves in. "Where's your ship?" Neil asked him.
"Why would I help you?" Saxon demanded. "I should kill you."
"At the moment, we need each other in case you didn't realize." Neil winked at Junebug. The Captain having grabbed the other pistol she had strapped to her leg. Both of their guns were now on Saxon. To his credit, the Hex didn't seem scared. It only fueled what pride he had. "I've been escaped worse and lived." The proclamation fell on them like an anvil dropping, and an incredibly loud silence followed as the muted shouts in the distance grew somewhat closer.
"So that's it then?" Neil said. "You want us to kill each other instead of escaping alive?...You've waited to kill me for four years. What's another few hours?"
The Xeno's muscled went taut, and for a tension filled second, Neil truly believed the Hex was going to pounce. But he suddenly deflated somewhat. "My ship is in another quarter. We'll need to go to yours." The words were torn out of him by the strongest amount of restraint and will he could muster.
"Cap- krkrrrrrkrrkrrkrr nebug! Captain Junebug? Hello?" further static. "krrkr doors locked down, but krrkrkr help!"
As Taya's voice rang out over the comm, both Neil and Sayeeda to grimace at the sudden noise in their ears.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda picked herself up out of the rubble. Powdered concrete clung to her perspiration giving her a diseased grey look. Irritable she wiped at her face and then pulled a pair of shooters goggles from one of the pockets cunningly sewn into the hip of her skin tight leather bodysuit. The pressed them to her face and fastened the strap before powering them on. The system was far inferior to her helmet but it was better than nothing. A low level static charge kept the drifting concrete dust from settling on the lenses and the googles were capable of providing basic targeting information. Unfortunately the device didn't illuminate any hidden exit from the situation. They were trapped in a dead end alley behind a two story pile of rubble. Somewhere beneath that rubble was forty million credits worth of rare minerals. It was nearly physically painful for Sayeeda to think about it, but one of the first rules of mercenary life was that no payoff was worth dying for. With a reluctant sigh she turned away.
"Ok snake, do you have any breaching charges?" she asked the Hex. If they could cut through the building to either side of them there was a fair chance they could get free before their pursuers could get organised. Gnorlac's goons certainly thought that the Hex's attack was a doublecross and even if they could have convinced him otherwise there wasn't going to be a chance to clear things up.
"I am no snake, woman," the Hex hissed in irritation. The whine of drive fans spinning up briefly overpowered the slackening gunfire. It appeared that even idiot gangsters could reach the right conclusion eventually.
"Uhhh… Captain, this is Saxon," Neil said by way of introduction.
"Saxon, this is the Captain, err Sayeeda, or Junebug," the pilot went on haltingly. Saxon looked around in confusion, nostrils flaring and contracting in what might have been an expression or might simply have been a reaction to the explosive residues in the air.
"Well which is it?" the Hex demanded. Sayeeda hissed irritation.
"Can we do the social thing some other time please?" Junebug shouted over the rising roar of the fans. Dust billowed around them though her goggles kept it out of her eyes. The charge kept the googles from clouding, but the air a millimeter beyond was opaque with dust. She tumbed a selector on the side of the googles and switched to millimetric radar. The simple processor in the googles through up a rough wireframe based on the radar returns.
"Breeching charges? Yes or no!" she shouted over the howl and the dust storm blowing down the alley from the back blast. Saxon barred his fangs and pulled a torn belt from his armor. Several smoke grenades dangled from the severed ends of the bandolier but nothing more substantial.
"Sssomeone blew it up," the alien snarled.
"Ok, you really dont want to play the who fucked who the worst game today," Sayeeda shouted. With a deafening roar an air cushioned jeep lifted above the rubble. The engines were redlining to carry the load of gunmen that had been crammed into it, far exceeding the safe lift capacity. Unless they had better optics tha Junebug credited them with the hired killers couldn't actually see them through the smoke. They probably couldn't even be certain that the trio had survived the blast. Sayeeda settled into a shooters stance and fired three rounds in quick succession. The car was above the rubble, exposing its underskirts to her fire. The first round sparked off the body work but the second and third rounds punched one of the nacelles to scrap. The sensitive mechanism seized for a moment and then blew one of the hydrogen cells in a flash of white fire visible even through the storm of grit. The concussion flipped the car like a tiddly wink, spilling gunmen and loose items a moment before the inertia of the blast drove it out of sight and into the ground with a rending boom that seemed unimpressive after the world ending crash of the fuel air charge.
"If we cant go through we will have to go up!" she shouted, shoving the pistol into her hip pocket. The leather smoked and charred from the waste heat of the barrel but the garment was already a write off. Without waiting for any further discussion Junebug grabbed a hand ful of bundled cables that ran up the side of the building in a loose conduit and began to shimmy her way up. If they could get high enough they at least had a chance of getting out of this mess. The smoke still billowing from the rubble pile as well as the dust that hung in the air provided concealment if not cover. Unfortunately the force of the blast had snuffed any secondary fires before they could break out.
"What are you doing?!" Saxon demanded, "If they have optics they will pick you off like Sindaran flies!" Junebug already ten feet up the uncertain ladder, looked back over her shoulder.
"You're right we should probably stay here were it is safe," she said sarcastically before taking another handful of cable and hauling herself another few feet towards the roof.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The Hexanagallion gave a clicking growl, unused to such disrespect. It was then he realized he was now standing beside Neil, and the pilot realized it too. "I think we should go," Neil said, trying to change the subject, hoping the Hex would forget he wanted Neil dead. Unlikely he would forget, but still. "Maybe you should help one of us uh, get on top?"
The Hex's expression was unreadable. Well, usually it was unreadable due to his Xeno's nature, but it was unreadable even to Neil, who's had a few very uncomfortable encounters with a very expressive Saxon. Neil decided aid Sayeeda by pushing up on the soles of her shoes, hoisting her up top. She had to squirm a bit to get her weight atop the roof, but she had to keep her body flat to avoid any of the random gunfire, and the possibility of people using optics to spot her.
Neil was less fortunate. Junebug would see Neil being tossed out of the hole she had crawled out of, flying much higher and further than was safe. Neil was fortunate to not get hit by a stray bullet or lasbolt. He rolled almost violently across the roof to fall off the tertiary side in the opposite alleyway. Suddenly, two smoke grenades were tossed out into the streets, fog suddenly billowing out and blanketing the ground below the roof in haze.
Saxon leaped, his saurien legs giving him the strength to make good air but not good enough. His torso was above eyesight, and a series of spikes shot out of his armguard. He slammed the spiked device on the roof, and once the metal was stabbed into the tile he yanked himself up with a grunt. The roof grumbled under his weight.
"Where is your ship?" The brute rumbled.
"I need my pilot first!" Junebug roared back at him as the gunfire increased.
The gangsters on the streets were in the middle of the smoke, those without optics shooting at random thinking they were being attacked. Those that were shooting caused that belief to strengthen, and further shots were fired, curses and battlecries joining in. It seemed they were doing part of the work for them. Neil would have made a quip but he was nowhere to be seen at the moment.
"Where did he go!?" Saxon cried.
"You threw him over the side!" Junebug replied. "Fucking Lizard!"
"Ware your tongue or I'll cut it out!" The Xenos warned, slamming his fist into the roof tile. It was then they both realized the guns had stopped firing, and instead there was shouting.
Meanwhile below, Neil had gathered his wits and clung to the alleywall, hidden from view to the gangster and listening to them regroup. Luckily the smoke still permeated the area, so Neil was still cloaked even when he peeked out into the street. He saw silhouettes in the shadow, about a dozen men he guessed. They didn't seem to bulky, which meant they probably only had moderately powerful armaments. Still, with those numbers and optics, he wasn't sure if they could get out of this.
"They're probably still on the roof," one of Gnorlaac's goon's said. "We should circle around and surround them from all sides, wait until they poke their filthy heads out."
"That idea's horseshit." A voice replied from the smoke. Neil chuckled to himself and slid back into the alleyway.
"Oh, horseshit is it!?"
"I agree, it sucks, we need to take the fight to them."
In less than 15 minutes, Neil, Junebug, and Saxon had managed to make it out of there while the men still debated on how best to kill the would-be escapees.</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The mech slammed through the ferocrete wall with enough force to send the dense chunks of material flying out of the open hanger doors. The hydraulics and pistons connecting the MH-350 were far better than the pilot had expected. Neil was a good mechanic. Some might even say he was an exceptional one. But even he was impressed with the work Sven had done on the machine. The mech spun, planting its feet into the ferocrete of the floor like a spike to halt its momentum, and suddenly he found himself facing the wall he had just ripped through.
Liquid flame and bullets tore into the gap, and a cacophony of death and screams followed as Neil elimenated or scared off the last of the gang members. The whole thing was fun, but it had left a sour taste in his mouth. He wasn't a fan of slaughter. But he didn't know how else to describe what just occurred. Without any real armor piercing or anti-tank weaponry on the gangers, and without optics, Neil had practically been invulnerable. The only thing he had needed to watch out for were the occasional grenade or point-blank shotgun, and even then they were few and far between and the gang members needed to be in the right position for it to effect Neil in the slightest.
Once the flames and bullets had stopped, the MH-350 suddenly settled down, curling into a crouch before the monitor of the Highlander. The equilateral polygon of metal that shaped the top of the mech's torso opened up to reveal Neil, steam hissing around him as he stepped out of the machine. Behind him, Sven stepped out of the gap. His mechanical left hand held the neck of a limp corpse, dragging the body in a way that was somehow both menacing and casual. Neil saw the cadaver and stuck out his tongue in disgust, realizing the poor fool had probably lost his life due to slow suffocation.
The bay door of the Highlander opened, with Taya stepping out to rush over to Neil, only to stop before she even touched the hanger floor at the sight of Sven, not to mention the corpse. She had been disturbed by him earlier. His dead eyes and his wild, barbarian look made her skin crawl.
"My droids have reported the wreckage has not been disturbed yet. If we are to get the Aestominubum, we need to hurry. Our chances of retrieving the treasure fall every second we delay." Sven said to Neil, though his eyes remained fixed on Taya and Sayeeda at the bay door. "That uh..." Neil began loudly, then whispered harshly to Sven. "You know you could have waited for me break the news we'll share the treasure with you."
A growl emanated from within the next room, and Saxon stepped through. It gave everyone a scope of just how powerful the Hexanagallion was, for he was nearly as large as the MH-350 he now stood beside. Neil had the same reaction to Saxon that Taya had with Sven. He should have known that it would be on the filthiest planet imaginable that his past would come back to haunt him twice over.
Neil sighed. "Well now that we're all here..."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The hangar floor still trailed smoke even after the plasma thrusters had been cut off. Though the concrete itself was immune to the fury of the ionized jets, dirt and impurities had been burned away by the sustained blast filling the air with a pungent reek. Stray ions prickled at the skin and tickled at the sinuses as Sayeeda came down the ramp to join the gathering. She had traded the ruined leather bodysuit for her customary fatigues and her full battle rig. It The ceramic chestplate was latched closed and her helmet was visor down and opaque as the crystalline heart of a star. Her webbing was hung with a variety of grenades and magazines for the heavy plasma rifle that she cradled in the crook of her arm. A quick spray of combat sealant, a mix of antiseptic, healing factors and artificial skin had salved the burns on her palms although they still felt tacky. Saxon stiffened when he saw her, clearly realizing that his armor wouldn't protect him against her new found hardware, even if he was willing to chance it against Neil and Sven.
"Gnarloc has to think we still have the aestimobium," she declared, cutting into the the silence with a clear authoritative tone.
"That is the reason we only had to deal with his goons, rather than the whole city." The kingpin couldn't put out a planet wide bounty on them if he were worried about the hunters realizing the potential fortune they had in their hands.
"But that's done now, if he dosen't crush us fast and hard every other second rate ganger is going to smell blood in the water." It made intuitive sense to Junebug, the basic strategy of an Armored unit was to hit hard and fast and keep hitting until the enemy collapsed, their actions had made Gnarloc look weak and he couldn't tolerate that and hope to survive. Everyone spoke at once, voices gabbeling over each other in a confused mass of plans and objections.
"We need to retake my ship!" Saxon hissed, winning over Taya's assertion that they should leave and Sven objecting that this wasn't part of his deal by virtue of the bass his reptilian lungs gave his words. Junebug considered shooting the alien. It really did make alot of sense just to end the threat now with a hail of plasma bolts but if they were going to recover their prize they needed as many bodies as they could get.
"Unless you had some serious security Gnarloc's men have already captured it," Junebug said in a neutral ton.
"Even if he hasn't moved it I doubt we will be able to recover it," she went on, well aware that if the roles had been reversed she would have attempted to retake the Highlander against nearly any odds. Saxon hissed and cast a baleful glance at Neil, adding one more injustice to his already extensive list.
"Is your ship worth more than 10 million credits?" Sayeeda asked pointedly. Saxon bared his fangs but his posture relaxed slightly.
"There is 40 million worth of aestimobium and we weren't negotiating very hard. Ten million each," she said, making a broad gesture to incorporate the three men.
"I should get more of a share seeing my ship has been lost," Saxon interjected angrily. Sayeeda swung the heavy plasma rifle to her shoulder, the 2cm bore pointed right at the lizards chest.
"What you should get are three million joules to the chest for fucking up our deal in the first place, but I'm feeling all generous like," Junebug replied icily.
"I'm a bad enemy to have woman," the lizard snapped, gums drawing up around his impressive fangs.
"No one is any kind of enemy when they are splattered across half a hangar bay," Junebug observed in a reasonable tone. Sven laughed, a dry corpse like sound that made Sayeeda's skin crawl.
"I'll settle for a larger share if you want to kill him Captain, but we will all be settling for no shares at all if we stand around here for too much longer." Saxon's posture relaxed slightly in sullen acquiescence and Junebug lowered the gun to a patrol carry.
"Alright, get the mech into the cargo bay, does it have jump jets?" she asked, casting her eyes over the metal behemoth. Sven shook his head sadly.
"Afraid not," he said with a bloodless grin, "maybe next upgrade?" Sayeeda nodded, assimilating the information.
"OK, Taya think you can handle a combat drop? We are going to need Neil in the mech. We will go in hard and fast, the Highlander will pull back to orbit and extract us when we have the goods." Lifting the debris free with the mech wasn't the best possible solution, particularly because the second they returned to the ruins of the night club it would be immediately obvious what they were doing, but the longer they delayed the more they risked that some random clean up crew would recover the priceless ore.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"I'll put in the algorithms, you just need to direct them at the right time." Neil said to Taya, giving her a wink. She didn't seem entirely assured, but she had been piloting more than usual. Neil could tell she was getting the hang of it.
"I shall drop with you." Saxon declared, and turned to Neil. "Equipment?" he demanded. Neil knew what he wanted. The Xenos wished to repair his armor. Sayeeda seemed a bit skeptical that he wanted to drop with the mech. Neil knew he was stubborn enough and durable enough to do it, and that his wounds were already somewhat healed. The bullet wounds he had received would be scabbed over shortly after having spit the bullets out. He could survive most anything as long as he wasn't too riddled with projectiles or wasn't hit in a vital spot.
"I'll show you the way." Neil replied, giving faux excitement to the prospect.
Within the hour, Neil had risen the Highlander out of the hanger and into low orbit. By now the word would be out that the contingent of men Gnorlaac had sent had been decimated, but it would take some time to get out orbital sensors and to place any effective radar. The Bar they had met at, where the treasure was, was also not Gnorlaac's main stronghold and wasn't the main focus on defense.
Taya took the helm and Neil went into the cargo bay where the MH-350 was held, just beside the Hauler Neil had 'requisitioned' for himself those months ago. Junebug was helping Neil into the mech, helping him with the safety straps. He would need it to survive the drop in one piece. He expected her to give him good luck.
"When this is over, you have a lot of explaining to do." She said, yanking the strap hard and causing him to lose the breathe in his lungs. He coughed. "Yeah, I realize."</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil shifted gear in the mech, 'holstering' its weapons so to say and unhinging its claws to enable better grip on the debris he was moving. The mechanics of the machine was half motion, half toggle. It was tiring work for the pilot as well as the machine, but Neil was making good time. He tossed over a half ton rock, only to reveal the statue of a scantily clad Xenos that he assumed was female. He picked it up and tossed it over his shoulder, rummaging around as Sven watched from above, as still as a statue himself.
Saxon had disappeared. Though Neil knew he wasn't far. He had either decided to keep himself hidden in an alley akin to his predatory instincts, or he had fixed his cloaking device, which meant he could be anywhere and unseen by the naked eye as long as you weren't looking for him. Well Neil felt less exposed in this mech, and Saxon needed what he was digging up, or at least a cut of it. Neil shook his head. How did they end up scoring 40 million credits to not even scoring 10 and being hunting by the most powerful gang this side of the planet?
Well, mostly it was his past mistakes coming back to haunt him. But still, they could have come back at a better time, goddammit. He wondered what deep-space Gods he had offended to have this happen. Deep down he realized the shittiest part of all of this was ruining things for Sayeeda and the team. His hopes would lift somewhat when he saw something he always loved to see. Something shiny. "Hello there..." he said, pulling a few ferocrete chunks out of the way to reveal a third of the Aestomibium. He lifted it up and admired the indescribable precious metal for a few instances and then placed it inside the compartment of the mech. It gave speed to his search, and soon he found the other two thirds still attached together.
"I have it." he said over the comm.
Junebug would see people at the outskirts of the area, whispering to one another and loitering. Aliens and humans alike looked. Most were merely curious onlookers. They could understand people rummaging for scraps. Though this group was far more unique than usual junkers. "Gun barrel, 48 degrees to the left." Sven said in the comms for all to hear, though it was clearly meant for Junebug. She would see a glint in the crowd and a one eyed green Alien pointing a gun at Neil. A large caliber gun called an EMR meant to silence mechs.
Meanwhile, Taya did her best to fly the Highlander back around and complete her spin, trying to keep the thrusters low. Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the alarm go off at the right of the console. Somehow she had been spotted on radar somewhere. But that was impossible, wasn't it?
"Captain, we have a problem." Taya said, anxiousness in her voice. "I might need to do, eh, evasive maneuvers soon..."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Even as Junebug swung her rifle onto the new threat she saw dozen more armed thugs swarming into the small plaza. It was an incredibly rapid response, one that Andor's Armored would have struggled to have mounted. She fired the plasma bolt was aimed at center of mass but the alien's shooting posture meant that the bolt struck the thing above its elbow. The plasma liberated its energy with a cyan thump and the alien staggered away burning as though doused in hydrocarbon. A detached part of Sayeeda's mind theorized that the odd reaction might be because the alien's blood was flamable.
Gunfire rippled out in almost random arcs. Even so there were over two score of shooters in the plaza now and probability meant that someone was bound to get lucky eventually. Junebug ducked back as rounds of a half dozen different varieties tore into the cement ledge that protected her. She crawled on her belly to a new position. With a sick feeling she realised what had happened. Every minor ganger had wanted to look like he had been ready for what had happened earlier at the club and moved his people into position so that they could tell Gnorlac that it hadn't been them who had failed. Then, all unexpected, the target had reappeared ready for the taking. Oddly it didn't make her feel any better that the enemy had caught them flat footed because they had been so incompetent it worked in their favor.
"Junebug, Lonny say we have multiple ships on an intercept course, what should I do?!" Taya's voice was tight and terrified even over the comms. Sayeeda pushed herself to one knee, snapped off two shots and ducked before the return fire swept her position. Gnorlac had obviously put out the word that if the Highlander couldn't be taken, it was to be destroyed. Dogfighting in a vertical city while trying to perform an evac would have been a strain for Neil and was no bussiness for a girl with a handful of hours of training.
"Bug out Taya, get to orbit and make a holding jump, Lonny can tell you how," she said. A grenade sailed over the railing twenty feet from her and went off with a harmless crump. Making a holding jump required a precise insetion into the RIP with just enough way on to hold stationary against the prevailing currents. Once you were there you could stay in the RIP so long as your fuel held out without moving more than a few fractions of a light second, safe from attack. It was the sort of thing pirates did routinely, dropping in and out of normal space to scout for prey.
"What about you?" Taya asked, her concern for her captain not quite outweighing the relief at not being asked to attempt a suicidally dangerous maneuver.
"Drop out of jump every hour or so, we will let you know once we figure it out," Junebug replied, cutting the call with a neural impulse. Taya would want more information, but there was a limit to how much her mind could process at one time and she needed to be in the firefight now that the ship was taken care off. There was a rumble of engines barely audible over the rapid fire of dozens of weapons.
"We have vehicles closing," Junebug announed popping her head up to survey the scene. The gunmen were focusing their fire on the alley mouth where the mech had finished clearing the rubble. Across the plaza she saw three ugly looking monstrosities sorting into the chaos. One of the things might have been an old Dart T combat car but it was so heavily modified it was hard to tell. It bore a large old fashioned fusion cannon. The other two were clearly converted bulldozers, with extra blades welded on to act as side and top armor. One of the rusted clunkers bore a heavy duty assault cannon on a pintle mount. The kind of ten barreled weapon that might be used for air defense in a second rate mercenary company. The other bore a cylindrical ring of hypersonic rockets. What the gangsters had originally built the vehicle for she couldn't guess, but any one of the tree was more than capable of shredding Neil's 'I cant believe its not a mech' into so much tin shavings.
Without pausing to thinks she aime her rifle at the base of the rocket dozer's pintle mount and fired a half dozen rounds. Steel sublimed in bright red flashes as the plasma gouged holes in the side of the armor. One of the rounds flew high and struck one of the rockets in its housing. With a roar so loud that it knocked half the gunmen down and engaged Sayeeda's helmets audio dampers the thing vanished in a flash of white fire. Rockets whistled out of the inferno like fireworks blasting nearby buildings to flaming rubble. With horror Junebug watched a burning warhead hurtle towards her. It hit the floor below crashing through the concrete wall without detonating. Junebug jumped to her feet and started to run for the next roof, when a round smashed into her chest armor and sent her spinning to the floor gasping for breath. A moment later there was a tremendous explosion as the warhead below her went off, hurling her, and a giant section of the roof, skyward in a low tumble.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil had expected everything to turn to shit, but he didn't expect it to happen this fast. He had felt a few 'tings' on the back of his mech and as suddenly as he realized they were small arms fire, it stopped sprinkling and began to pour. "Alright this is a little much," he muttered under his breath as he began to redirect the MH-350's systems and undo the cargo latch, opening up and taking the Aestimobium inside the mech where it's safe while his back was still turned to the growing mob of attackers. He turned when he heard the tredds scraping against the floor of the plaza, and finally drank in the army and the newly arriving armor.
Ironically enough, Sven had taken this time to disappear much like Saxon had earlier. While the Xenos on the other hand decided it was his time to make his debut, and a group of a dozen men who shot various lasbolts and traditionally kinetic firearms at Neil lost half their number in mere moments. Saxon had uncloaked his massive form and attacked from their flank, serrated blades of Xarconian steel protruded from his forearms as he literally butchered 4 men before they realized they were under attack. Neil still felt it wasn't enough. Sayeeda was already being suppressed from above.
His weapons had been mechanically 'sheathed' to better grab the treasure. It would take a few moments to redirect the systems to unholster them again and set them up. He knew he didn't have the time. Even if the vehicles hadn't shown up, there were enough gang members here to get a few bullets into his cockpit before long. He felt a sudden surge of frustration at everything having to go wrong so quickly. His mind worked without him realizing it, the mech reaching down to grab a sufficiently large enough piece of rubble. He locked the hand-like claw onto the stone and turned the propulsion of the MH-350's right arm at full strength, something you would only ever normally use to shove large obstacles at high velocity.
"Eat this, bitch." Neil spat, aiming on instinct and unleashing the energy of the mech's arm, launching the stone that probably weighed more than Neil's body weight flying like a bullet into the cockpit of one of the tractors. Needless to say the vehicle had lost its driver, though the machine still moved, turning as it did without someone to steer and ramming into 8 gangers, crushing them like so many twigs.
That was when the explosion happened, Sayeeda's expert shot having detonated the Dart T Combat car, though Neil could only watch as the aforementioned warfare was shot at Sayeeda's perch, shattering the building below her and sending her flying into the air. As if on cue, Sven's voice was heard over the comm. "That explosion will give you time. Leave her and go."
"Fuck you!"
Neil had already shifted gears and sped the Mech toward where he calculated Sayeeda would fall. He knew he couldn't catch her gracefully, controlling a high powered and modified cargo mech. But he managed to just catch her by her stomach, only her legs bumping into the metal of her arm uncomfortably, but not so much as to worry Neil at the moment. He had the treasure and the Captain, they needed to get out of there. He pulled the arms in and had Sayeeda close to the cockpit as he sped out of there through one of the main roadways, killing an unfortunate ganger who had wandered into the wrong direction by simply running him over.
"We'll rendezvous at the corner of Nicias." Neil replied over the comms and shut them off abruptly. On his rear camera, he saw the last tractor mowing over debris and in pursuit of him. It was about a 10 minute run before the tractor had finally lost track of the mech it had been chasing, the Ordellion Xenos with its tentacle-appendages wriggling back and forth already annoying its human companion in the passanger seat.
"You lost him. Now you'll need to explain this to the boss." The man said, or would have if his window had not been torn open and a mech's arm didn't unload a small canister of its flamer ammunition into the tractor, igniting the skin of the passengers before they could even scream. Neil didn't like having to kill to indiscriminately, but he had set an unconscious Sayeeda down a block away and had to end the pursuit as quickly as he could.
Once that was over with, he made his way back over to her and settled his mech into stand by mode, opening the cockpit with a 'hiss' and dropping out of it, lifting the woman's head up from the (relatively clean) pile of bagged waste he had left her sitting next to. "Captain?" he said. He patted her cheek hurriedly, pragmatism and worry intermingling. "Captain, come on. Don't do this to me." he breathed. "I know you like fucking with me but now is not the time..."</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The November Sky was immense over a kilometer and a half long it dwarfed anything in local space. The vessel was shaped like a throwing knife with a thin tapered bow that came to a fairly narrow point, a slight bulge just aft of amidships and then a second tapering section around which her vast sublight engines were clustered in six housings which protruded from the midline. Unlike a freighter like the Highlander, the November Sky had never touched and atmosphere, having been constructed in one of the many orbital shipyards that served the Terran Navy. No ship so large could ever hope to enter a gravity well and leave again. The entire length of the ship was festooned with weapons ports. Turrented plasma cannons, missile batteries, mass drivers as well as dozens of launch bays which housed fighters, bombers and the various utility craft that the ship relied upon for its dirtside business. All of that was just window dressing for the ships real armament, a massive spinal mounted rail gun which ran the length of the ship. Such weapons were useful only in capital ship engagements or to threaten static positions like space stations or ground facilities.
The unnamed cargo lifter was directed by laser designators to a large hangerbay just below the port side bulge. Even before it touched down the Highlander was visible. Terran technicians in gray disruptive pattern fleet utilities were climbing over the ship, some were obviously engaged in repairs while others appeared to be taking readings.
"The Terrans are friends of yours?" Saxon sneered.
"Fucked if I know," Neil responded as he tapped the attitude jets to slow the decent. Several point defence batteries, designed for shooting down enemy missiles but more than capable of shredding an unshielded freighter, tracked their descent. The ship touched down with a gentle clang. Neil tore his harness off and ran to the ramp slapping the activation switch. Junebug lay on her side, extremely pale and breathing in short shallow puffs that stirred her dark hair. The ramp opened with glacial slowness to reveal a phalanx of Terran Marines suited up in vac-armor and carrying bulky vacuum rated rifles.
"We need medics!" Neil called down, looping his arms beneath Junebugs and dragging the unconscious mercenary to the mouth of the hatch. A smallish man in an immaculately tailored uniform snapped his fingers and a trio of men, each wearing armor marked with a caduceus on the right shoulder pad and bearing a grav stretcher rushed forward, lifting Sayeeda and laying her on the grav stretcher. A large hoop like device flipped upright and ran over her at the speed of a brisk walk. Holographic screens sprang to life showing detailed scans of internal organs and bone structures as well as dozens or hundreds of vital statistics. One of the medics, his armor marked with a lieutenant's bars, watched the data scroll passed for a moment.
"Keep the armor on, there is significant swelling we don't want to risk a crash before we get to preop" he snapped in the precise accented galactic typical of the Terran military.
"Get me a tatrobane drip and three large bore IV access points. Med bay prep for a level one trauma with…" the medical babble trailed off as the stretcher rushed down the ramp and towards one of the blast doors that granted access to the hangar. Within a few seconds it was gone beyond the doors.
"Mr Edwards," the suave looking officer called from below. He was a handsome man with dark hair and an immaculately trimmed mustache. His voice was rich and cultured and sounded friendly, although his eyes remained still and cold. White piping rimmed the rank tabs that identified him as a Major in Directorate K, the legendarily ruthless Terran Fleet Intelligence.
"Would you and your friends come down please, I would take it as a favor if you left any weapons aboard your ship," he called in a pleasant cultured voice. The marines flanking him didn't bother with an amateur theatrics, they merely kept their weapons leveled.
"He is no friend of mine," Saxon snarled irritable. The officer shrugged his shoulders as though the point didn't much matter to him.
"In that case we shall be happy to escort you to the nearest airlock." The fellows jovial tone didn't shift even a fraction, but there was no doubt in the world that he was willing to do exactly that if anyone made any trouble.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil breathed a sigh of relief that Junebug was now being taken care of. He knew he could trust them to keep her alive. After all, she was the one they probably wanted to speak to the most. He didn't worry about being caught in the middle of a Terran ship. He had escaped plenty of fortified areas in his life. It was all about playing along until he didn't need to anymore.
Neil held his hands up. "Don't worry about me, lads. My weapons are on the freighter that you had so conveniently procured." He said, speaking in a facestiously posh accent, before instantly switching back to his normal voice. "Oh wait..." He pulled out his 10mm gun, and gave a guilty smile. He took out the clip, and then pulled out the slide, and the bullet that was in the chamber was ejected out. Neil caught it mid air, and then presented the weapon and ammo to the officer, who, to Neil's surprise, was now surrounded by guards aiming rifles at him.
"They don't like sudden movements." The officer explained.
"A wise policy." Neil admitted, and handed over the weapon. The officer took it gingerly, and two guards received the weapon's on Saxon's person, much of them too heavy for a single man to hold carefully. Neil shook his head at the sight of the flechlette ripper gun being handled. One wrong move and those men would kill half a dozen of their comrades. Suddenly, a loud and incessant noise could be heard from Neil's right, and a man calling for the officer. Neil turned to see Sven with his hands up, and three men with lasrifles trained on him.
"Sir! This one has readings all over the place! Possible Cybernetics!"
Neil snorted. "That is an understatement."
Minutes later, and with Sven in multiple energy powered shackles based upon a metallic core at the center to focus the restricting beams, they were led deeper into the ship. Every doorway, every hall and window was shaped perfectly and with a utility befitting a military craft. Neil suddenly had a very eerie feeling. This ship looked much like a militarized version of the Ghost ship he and Sayeeda had traversed when the Xenonids had invaded Fornax. He knew it was just bad memories, or at least adrenaline pumping memories, rearing their ugly head.
Down three corridors, with heavy guard escort in the flank and vanguard, the three were placed into a white room, with uncomfortable looking steel chairs that were rooted to the floor, and a large desk that looked to be both an average work desk and a military operations/observation channel. But what Neil was surprised about was that Taya was in the room, and her face lit up when she saw Neil. "Neil! Thank Gideon you're ok!"
She got up and ran to him, too excited to care if she was acting younger than her age. She must have been worried sick. Neil embraced her with a grin. "We're fine. Sayeeda too. She was hurt but she's in medbay. She'll be out here in no time."
"Medbay?" Taya asked, pulling back for a moment, though she seemed convinced. Neil was convinced too. If something happened to Junebug he would be far less cooperative. The happiness in Taya disappeared when she noticed Saxon and Sven enter the room, and her face drained of blood. "W-who are they?"
"Oh they're uhhh my old friends!~" Neil said, arms out.
She didn't seem convinced. But she decided not to push the topic further. "So, do you know why we're here?"
"I thought you did." Neil said, and he turned around to face the officer. "How about enlightening us?"</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Ah," said the Intelligence Officer, " I should be delighted." With an unhurried grace he made his way across the room, and took a seat behind the console. With swipe of his finger he bought a holographic display live. The display focus at the eyes of its user and was just a blur of light to anyone else trying to read it. The terminal might have been displaying data, stress readouts, or it might just has easily have been a ploy to make them feel like they were less important than mundane work.
"Firstly my name is Major York," he said in his tone of faux gentillity, smiling at them like a snake with particularly perfect teeth.
"You are here, because Mr Edwards and Captain Cykalii are wanted for the murder of a team Terran archaeologists about three years ago.
"What!?" Neil spluttered coming to his feet with a look of shock on his face. If York was discomforted or surprised by the reaction he gave no sigh.
"You mean that team of commandos you dropped on us back on Savran?!"
York cleared his throat delicately and turned the display into an omni-directional mode.The screen flashed into holographic images of Neil and Sayeeda with biographical notes in galactic including charges of murder and conspiracy. The photos ranged in quality, old photos from an I.D showed a younger Neil, and a twenty something Sayeeda Cyckali in an officer cadets uniform. More recent footage was of grainy poor quality recording equipment like helmet recorders and gun cams.
"Those would be the archaeologists yes," the officer continued a note of wry amusement giving his voice a richer tone than before.
"The Directorate was very insistent you be picked up after the incident," York continued, "You wouldn't believe how much time and resources they spent coming space around Fornax for you. Of course you were off taking your little cryo nap at the time. Funny how the universe works."
The console made a beeping sound and York looked down at something before brightening.
"You will be pleased to know that our surgical computer predicts that Captain Cyckali will make a complete recovery. She should be combat effective by the end of the day. Excellent news!"
"So you shot down all those ships and captured the Highlander to arrest them?" Taya asked, looking back and forth between Neil and York in confusion. York reached up and fiddled with his musache for a moment. Then he clicked a holographic key and the image zoomed in on the strange tattoo Neil had picked up from the Ancient artifact on Savran.
"I shot down all those ships and captured your freighter so that we could talk about this."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
I am not photogenic, Neil thought to himself. He felt he was good, or at least ok looking, but he was that type where you'd need to be looking at him instead of taking a picture of him because something would get lost in translation. He shook his head, marveling how picturesque Sayeeda always looked, badass and combat ready while it just didn't work for him. He pondered this while trapped on a Terran ship, hundreds of guards with guns between him and any exit, for some unknown purpose.
The entire explanation of their murdering Terran operatives was unsettling to say the least. Neil almost called bullshit on that. He did speak up, at least. "Look, that planet was not a Terran planet and your boys were on the ground. We were just doing a job."
"Truly?" York asked, probably rhetorically. "Well, I suppose you might be right, if not for the fact that Savran was a criminal hive that harbored known terrorists, and was located in the Ptolemy system. I am certain I do not need to remind you what organization owns the Ptolemy system, and all system's connected to it? But I, and you, digress. Allow me to see your palm."
Neil paused for a moment, scrutinizing York before he opened his hand. The man approached, then looked at Neil with a neutral expression. "Your other palm."
"Can't blame a guy for trying." Neil said, opening his other hand. Taya shook her head, knowing full well Neil was being far too ironic just to be difficult. She would have hit him if she didn't feel that any sudden movement wouldn't be met with lethal force from hidden guns. York seemed to be satisfied with what he saw, however. He grabbed Neil's hand and examined the scarred tattoo. "This matches the Aelahyne designs we found elsewhere...what significance was this on Savran? How did you get this?"
Neil pulled his hand away gingerly. "It helped me access doorways and consoles. It hasn't been useful since, though it's stung in certain circumstances." he explained. "I...don't remember how I received it. Or I couldn't tell. It was dark in an ancient facility and I fell. One of the tiles I placed my hand on burned this into me."</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil winced at the entire display, and even the act of putting Saxon down. Clearly the man had some augmentations given to him. But Neil was wincing for more than any sympathy for Saxon. As the Hexa was being dragged out, Neil shook his head. York raised an inquisitive eyebrow, the barest hint of disapproval entering his pleasant visage. "You do not wish to take this offer?"
"You uh," Neil said, looking back at the door. "You made a huge mistake."
York blinked. "Explain."
Neil hesitated, as if saying the next phrase would summon what he knew to be coming. "You went and pissed him off."
York opened his mouth to speak, and then realized a sound in the hall was fading into an echo. Had that been a cry of pain? Neil scooted to the side and pulled Taya as well as Saxon re-entered the room. He did not seem filled with unbridaled rage. More a calm, stalking beast that had sighted prey. York blinked, clearly surprised Saxon had recovered so quickly. His body had been limp earlier. The Alien suddenly surged forward, and York moved like a whip, angling out of the way perfectly. He moved with a grace Neil could hardly comprehend for a human. It reminded him of the Aelahyne in his visions from the tattoo.
But Saxon followed his every movement.
The Xenos managed to duck, spin, and almost with a sixth sense, he caught the leg that had been aiming for his forehead. With a quick spin, he threw York at the wall. The man hit the steel hard, though something told Neil he wouldn't be down for the count. Saxon was on him in a moment though, his next step threatening to crush York's skull. "Do you think, puny human that you can-"
His entire body shuddered from an immense spasm of energy. His cry was an indecipherable garble, and some wiry strength pulled him back, so he was to fall backwards onto the floor instead of forewards onto the agent. The Hexa fell, crushing a table under his weight. As soon as the form of the Hex had left Neil's field of vision, the pilot found himself faced to face with York, the agent having already regained a standing position and his sidearm as if he hadn't been tossed like a ragdoll. Neil on the otherhand, nonchalantly held an electro-riot gun one of the fallen guards had dropped.
"What was this about a deal? Because I'm all ears." Neil said, dropping the gun and holding his hands up. York raised an eyebrow, and spoke into an earpiece for a moment, calling for more men to come and make sure the large Xenos was restrained.
"Very well Mister Edwards. You are with your uses, I will grant you that." he said, smoothing the two strands of hair that were out of place on his smartly groomed head. "As I was saying, you and your 'team', if you would agree, will escort a few key individuals and another team of Terrans onto Savran, where you will aid us, without question, with your specially emblazoned hand to help us excavate the Elder tech that we are certain lies beneath the planet's surface. Do that, and your team will lose its bounty and you can have a fresh start. What do you say?"
Neil looked over his shoulder. "Taya?"
The girl peeked over a fallen desk, and squeaked something. Neil nodded. "You heard the lady, we're doing it. May we see our Captain now?"</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug had been in class one triage facilities on three prior occasions. Once on Temlek where artillery fire had gotten through the net of anti-ordance plasma guns and blasted the gun pits that she and her troops had been sheltering in whilst waiting for the reliving column to break through. A nearby vehicle had been hit and she had been sprayed with burning petroleum. Another time on Chadon's World, a directional mine had gone off beneath her combat car. She had been riding in the left wing gun and had been tossed clear before the secondary explosions had slagged the vehicle. A third time on Chalcedon she had been shot in a rear area when a bar fight escalated unexpectedly.
Just because a sensation was familiar didn't make it pleasant. The Terrans, like the Armored, used direct nerual impulse generators rather than anaglgesics once a soldier was safely in a med center. There were fewer side effects and they were more reliable. They also tened to scramble the mind of the patient when they were turned off. Light was suddely very bright on her eyes and she tried to cry out. Neraby a male voice said something and the light dimmed. After a moment she realised she was laying in a medicomp. Several nurses or doctors stood around looking at holographic read outs.
"Easy there Captain how are you feeling?" A man in a surgical mask asked. His right eye was covered with some sort of imager the clicked and whired. There was a powerful taste of antisceptic in the back of her throat.
"Just aces," she tried to say but her mouth felt gummy and the words came out garbled and unintelligble. Frowning she tried again.
"Just aces," she responded, clearer this time.
"Can I have some water?" she asked. Her mind knew she should be concerned with where she was, the last thing she remembered was shooting someone on a ship, though she couldn't quite remember why or who exactly. SHe had shot alot of people afterall her mind rationalized.
"Not just yet," the doctor replied, "we need to see how the resynths hold up." As he spoke he glanced over at one of the techs who was cycling through a series of read outs.
"You were in quite a state, very lucky that the overpressure didn't flat out smash any organs," the doctor went on. He sounded proud, pleased that nature hadn't been allowed to take its course.
"Sir I'm ready to return to my unit," she mumbled. Judging from the confusion that clouded the physician's eyes that wasn't quite the right response either. He exchanged looks with someone too far out of her field of view for her to see. Junebug tried to turn her head but the medicomp wouldn't allow it.
"Where am I?" she asked looking around. It was high tech for certain, probably better than most of the field surgical centers the Armored had used. State of the art without a doubt.
"You are aboard the Terran Vessel November Sky," a voice said from behind her, a moment later a mustachioed man strode into view. He had a wirey dangerous look and his eyes glinted with intelligence. A Terran warship? She had a confused recollection of the Terran's having captured the highlander. Adrenaline surged through her system and several alarms began to beep.
"Not to worry, you and your friends are our guests, your employers you might say," the man went on. He clearly intended to say more but Taya pushed past him and hugged Junebug, even though most of her body was still within the medicomp.
"It is good to have you back Junebug!" the girl all but wept.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
York gave a smile, though it was difficult to tell whether it was genuine or not with the impressive mustache. Meanwhile, Neil's smile was genuine. Not only Taya's affection for Junebug, but the fact that she looked like she would live. It was quick though, the smile. He heard various beeps and medical machines thrumming and he briefly wondered how such things work. He gazed intently at one of the contraptions, a tall cylinder with an oval head that read vitals through green waves on the screen.
"You should make a full recovery in the matter of days, Miss Cykali." York said. With her wits returning to her bit by bit, she began to realize the regiment she had believed herself to be in was not here, and she could afford to speak a bit less formally. "Captain Cykali," she corrected him. The man inclined his head as if to say 'fair enough.' "Where is my pilot?" she asked, a bit weakly after she had talked for a bit.
Taya waved Neil over, but he was too busy looking elsewhere. Taya then told Junenbug. "One second," and scurried over to literally push Neil over into Sayeeda's field of vision. Neil then got a good look at Sayeeda, and realized he had wanted to avoid seeing her so banged up. He played it cool though. "You feeling ok?" he asked her. "Next time don't slow me down." He joked. "When it comes to heavy weapons I get a little carried away."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Please," Junebug said with a week laugh, "WIthout me you would be scattered across a city block." She didn't quite remember the specifics but it seemed like the thing to say. Her memory seemed to be clearing and a cool sensation was spreading down her right arm there was a quiet whir as a pneumatic pump delivered medication. There was a confused jumble of memories that seemed to seperate out into a half dozen battlefieds.
"It was nearly you who were scattered all over the pavement," Neil pointed out. Sayeeda made a dismissive gesture down at her medicomp encased body.
"Everything still on the inside, mostly at any rate," she said, "beside if I bitched every time I got a little blown up I'd never shut up."
York, still hovering put on a patronizing smile.
"Well I'll leave you to your reunion," the spy said, fluffing his mustache with his hand in a way that was meant to convey comradely bonhomie. Junebug fixed him with a steady stare. She had seen men and women like him before. In what Andor's armored euphemistically called 'the field police'. They looked human enough at first but their work turned them into something else. He reached the med bay door and looked back over his shoulder.
"I'm sure Mr Edwards will be happy to fill you in on the details of our arrangement," and with that he was gone. Junebug opened her mouth to ask what he was talking about when a calm female voice sounded over the public alert system. It sounded like a real voice rather than a synthesized computer simulation.
"All hands prepare for insertion." All around them the medics grabbed hold of whatever solid surface was to hand. The medicomp tightened around Junebug's body. A tone sounded followed rapidly by two more sequentials and then there was a sudden shuddering sensation and Junebug felt like she was about to vomit up her internal organs. Then the universe seemed to relax. They were in the RIP. Junebug arched her eyebrow at Neil.
"I'm sure Mr Edwards will be happy to fill me in on the details of this arrangement…"</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Taya opened her mouth to speak, and then suddenly gained a small twinkle in her eye and a mischievous smile, and she stepped out of sight. In truth, Taya just didn't want to interrupt Neil, or explain that she sat back and allowed the events to transpire. She had gotten braver since they had all met, but she still felt wholly inadequate when it came to certain things. That and a few other sly reasons.
"Can I get a seat?" Neil asked, one of the last nurses that were exiting their section of the medbay gave a smile and nodded, providing a rolling chair. After they had made it into R.I.P. space, of course. Neil plopped down, and he was going to place his hand on the holster of his gun, but the familiar resting place was gone and he recalled they had taken it. Maybe he could get it back considering they were now working for them. Speaking of which...
"Well?" Junebug said.
"Well, the dapper fellow that you had the pleasure of meeting earlier is called York and he is our new boss. Or employer." He imagined Junebug would take the news better if he didn't make it sound so subordinate. "They took Sven and Saxon I don't know where. But they saved your life, and I think they trust me now because I helped this man York apprehend Saxon-"
"Spit it out. What could they need from us that they can't do themselves?" She asked.
Neil gave a guilty smile and waved with his branded hand.
She tried to laugh, but coughed instead.
Neil shrugged. "They want to get into the Ancient Ruins we were in. In exchange they'll give us our freedom. No more bounty, and some reward money. I think it's not a bad deal, and I accepted it. Hope you don't mind."</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil's palms pressed to the Highlander Floor, and he placed his knees against his elbows, and with a practiced ease, he suddenly lifted his legs up and balanced. A bead of sweat dripped onto the floor, and with a will his legs then lifted fully into the air, outstretching into a handstand. He would need to hold the position for five minutes. It was the last handstand of his set, and then he would get back to tinkering with the Hauler they had in the cargo bay.
Of course the repairs were slightly limited. The Terrans had scanned, searched, and X-rayed the entire ship for munitions and weaponry, and it was under heavy surveillance from virtually every angle in the larger hanger, with guards posted, keeping the ship and its pilot under watch at all times. It was after a large discussion with York that Neil had convinced him to allow re-entry, much less permission to work on the Hauler under supervision. A floating AI with a camera followed Neil wherever he went in the Highlander, which is why he chose to go to the restroom before he entered the ship.
"Three minutes. You got this." he said to himself, his voice strained.
"NEIL!!!"
He lost his balance and collapsed to the ground as the voice reverberated in his ear. "Ah, FUCK." he exclaimed. He'd left the comm on full volume to be able to hear over the repairs half an hour ago. He realized it was Junebug after a moment. "Y-Yeah, what is it?"
"Meet up with us in Assembly room 41A, pilot. We're going to be briefed by York. Supposedly they're releasing Saxon."
"You got it, Capt'n." Neil said, trying to release his pressurized left ear. Lonny appeared above. "You will have optimal hearing in minutes. Only long bursts of loud sound can disrupt the ear drums indefinitely." Neil rubbed his eyes and got up, removing his goggle and tool belt. "Thanks Lonny, you're a gem."
Even after having been here for days and days, the immensity of the hanger still impressed Neil. As he stepped out of the Highlander, men surveyed him from the elevated walkways, lasrifles at the ready and faceless helms hiding whatever expression they might have. Their body armor was simply flak vests, but they were reinforced with Torellian Steel, making it almost respectable body armor in a real firefight.
The sliding door slid open, and Neil stepped into the hall and walked what he believed to be a quarter mile to the designated room. A small meeting room where lesser officials could have private discussions. The AI had stopped following Neil as soon as he had left the Highlander. As the engineer stepped in, he gave them a wave. "Sup?" he asked them, taking a load off on one of the chairs at the long table. He decided he would prop his boots up and relax. It was when he sat down did he blink and squint at Sayeeda. "Are... you look good. You feel better?"
"By the way, I'm not sure if you guys want to play this straight when we reach on-world or not. I never feel bad fucking over Terrans, but..."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Nobody ever feels bad fucking over the Terrans," York said as he strode through the hatch.
"And why should they, we are afterall the only faction trying to bring peace to a fractured galaxy, the only group with the resources and vision to usher in a… oh whatever," he said growing tired of the boilerplate speech and waving a dismissive hand.
"Still I really wouldn't advise it, our intelligence suggests that the beta site is quite deadly enough without trying to play games." He took a seat at a console and bought it live, projecting an omni directional view that showed a three dimensional map of Saavran.
"And of course if you did decide to betray us we would have to kill you," he said apologetically. York held up his palms in a placating gesture.
"It's not personal of course, just policy. Besides I want us to be friends." The smile on his lips was so oily and insincere it had to be deliberate.
"As a sign of my good faith.." as though on cue the door opened again and Saxon, still in electro binders was marched in. Two marines followed him armed with active shock rods thought this was clearly a precaution rather than an attempt to prod the Hex along. Another marine a stunning woman with short blonde hair and Lieutenants pips stepped through after them. She wore a suit of light weight combat armor that covered her chest and legs but left her arms bare to reveal a variety of Terran Marine Corp tattoos as well as some less familiar designs.
"I am releasing your friend, or your associate or whatever it is you call him. I am certain he bears you no ill will, even though you did shoot him with that shock gun," York said with a prosaic smile. Saxon turned and glared daggers at Neil.
"Before I do so however I should advise him that as I need Mr Edwards alive, I took the liberty of installing certain guarantees while you were unconscious. I would advise you not to test them." The blonde Marine Lieutenant steeped in front of the Hex and disengaged the binders with seeming unconcern. Across the back of her armor was stenciled the name 'Woods'.
"I'll give you a moment to get reacquainted before the Lieutenant here takes over the briefing," York said as the door opened and Sven entered, EMP binders were attached to his wrist but not currently active meaning he could move freely.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"Oh gee, you shouldn't have." Neil said with faux admiration as York had his 'good faith' present sent in. Taya, despite her fear of Saxon and York, couldn't help but giggle quietly. If it was any other circumstance, he would have admired the blonde woman with much more than a passing glance, but he felt like he wanted this entire situation behind them and ignored any Terran soldiers for the most part.
"Well, now that our cards are all on the table." Neil continued as Sven entered the room. "Let's talk. How big of a reward are we talking when we get the job done. Without tricks." He added and pointed at York. York inclined his head, seemingly amused at the nerve of asking for money before they were even briefed.
"That depends upon the manner of our discoveries. But thirty thousand credits seems good for a minimum, don't you think?"
Neil tried to speak, but then did some quick calculations in his head. He had expected more, but then again that was a good price for a moderately dangerous bounty, and all this mission was, was essentially being an escort and a guide through ruins they had likely already explored. "As a bare minimum, yes." he said slowly. Sayeeda rolled her eyes. The Hexanagallion flexed his hands once they were unbound, and his first glare was at Neil and York.
Unexpectedly however, were his next words. "On my honor, I shall comply."
Neil blinked, and York explained. "We promised dear Saxon here all of his belongings back and another 30,000 credits to not seek any...what did you call it?"
"Blood Vengeance."
"Yes that. And we gave a few concessions to Sven over here as well." The nordic Cyborg gave a neutral, impassable stare. It was the coldest thing in the room, and it was a fairly cold room. Lieutenant Woods cleared her throat, the strict command of her voice was as iron hard as the muscles on her arms. "If we are done, then shall we begin?" she asked. Taya nodded, and Junebug gave a nod and sat beside Neil and Taya. Saxon and Sven still stood, Sven known for not getting exhausted like normal men and Saxon simply too big to sit.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Woods took a step forward her full lips tugging into a grin as she beheld her audience. It must have seemed like quite a group. A massive Hex being held back from extracting blood vengeance, an eeriely calm cyborg, a pilot who was sassing the most dangerous man on the ship, a girl barely out of here teens and a mercenary captain who had officially been charged with murdering five Terran commandos.
She cleared her throat and touched the hologram with a fingertip. The map expanded to twice its original size. The hologram was so clear and perfect that Junebug thought she could see the oceans slowly moving in their tidal flows. Terran holographic tech, like everything else, was state of the art. The world had three continents one of which was a polar plate. Two red dots blinked in steady rythym.
"This," she said in a clear melodious voice, "is Site Alpha." Images, some from satellite, some from helmet cams populated in the air. It seemed to Junebug like they came from another lifetime but she recognised the lush tropical jungle of Saavran. There were other pictures, clearly taken after the fact with professional imaging equipment, showed a devastated forest and a vast, vaguely anthropomorphic ridgeline. Junebug shuddered, she had worked hard to put the strange golem thing that Neil had stopped from waking up out of her mind.
"Even after three years of research we haven't made much headway into understanding what happened," Woods explained.
"The original caverns you penetrated appear to have vanished. Sonar and other remote sensing gear suggests that the 'guardian' as we are terming it is a solid undifferentiated mass," Woods explained. Junebug's lips compressed into a frown.
"We saw it move though it cant be solid," she objected. Woods nodded at his.
"Yes we did, current theory from the experts is that it is some kind of super fluid solid that can harden itself when inactive. Whatever control chamber you penetrated must have been subsumed." Taya leaned forward clearly rapt to be learning about an adventure that had occured before she had joined the crew.
"Which brings us to Site Beta," Woods went on. The image rotated to bring up a red dot on the polar plate. More images appeared of strange cyclopean architecture thrusting up out of a sheet of perma frost.
"It only became active after you fucked up Alpha, and so far we haven't been able to get so much as a sensor drone within half a kilometer of the edge of it."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
As Woods took measure of the crew, she would notice the smallest columned sections of light emitting off Sven's eyes periodically, and Saxon's gill-like ridges huffing as he gazed at the anomaly that had occurred while he was still fighting the killer worm on the asteroid Neil had stranded him on. Neil watched as only a man who had survived multiple cataclysms would, somewhat tired but still having a stoic sense of humor about it.
"You know, I love messing up with the natural order of things. But I'm starting to think I draw the line at ancient super advanced tech that can come alive and devour planets." He said. "Anyone else feel that way? Just me?"
Woods couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry, pretty boy. We'll be there to watch your back." the shapely woman said with an amused smile. Neil blinked, and mouthed 'pretty?'
"We have calculated the risks." Woods continued with a more serious tone. York spoke up. "In fact, we even addressed your friend Sven here and received his input. The risks are hard to tell, but he garnered a rough estimate. Apparently we have a 58 percent chance of finding what we are there to look for and to leave with no casualties."
"From our current data, at least." Sven added.
"Do I at least get to pilot my ship?" Neil asked, hopeful smile on his face. When Woods said he was, he pumped his arm and mouthed 'wicked' before leaning back and tell her "Thanks babe." He'd not driven the Highlander for longer than he cared for. Neil had really started to get fond of that ship. That, and Lonney, of course.
"And me?" Taya asked.</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Nobody ever feels bad fucking over the Terrans," York said as he strode through the hatch.
"And why should they, we are afterall the only faction trying to bring peace to a fractured galaxy, the only group with the resources and vision to usher in a… oh whatever," he said growing tired of the boilerplate speech and waving a dismissive hand.
"Still I really wouldn't advise it, our intelligence suggests that the beta site is quite deadly enough without trying to play games." He took a seat at a console and bought it live, projecting an omni directional view that showed a three dimensional map of Saavran.
"And of course if you did decide to betray us we would have to kill you," he said apologetically. York held up his palms in a placating gesture.
"It's not personal of course, just policy. Besides I want us to be friends." The smile on his lips was so oily and insincere it had to be deliberate.
"As a sign of my good faith.." as though on cue the door opened again and Saxon, still in electro binders was marched in. Two marines followed him armed with active shock rods thought this was clearly a precaution rather than an attempt to prod the Hex along. Another marine a stunning woman with short blonde hair and Lieutenants pips stepped through after them. She wore a suit of light weight combat armor that covered her chest and legs but left her arms bare to reveal a variety of Terran Marine Corp tattoos as well as some less familiar designs.
"I am releasing your friend, or your associate or whatever it is you call him. I am certain he bears you no ill will, even though you did shoot him with that shock gun," York said with a prosaic smile. Saxon turned and glared daggers at Neil.
"Before I do so however I should advise him that as I need Mr Edwards alive, I took the liberty of installing certain guarantees while you were unconscious. I would advise you not to test them." The blonde Marine Lieutenant steeped in front of the Hex and disengaged the binders with seeming unconcern. Across the back of her armor was stenciled the name 'Woods'.
"I'll give you a moment to get reacquainted before the Lieutenant here takes over the briefing," York said as the door opened and Sven entered, EMP binders were attached to his wrist but not currently active meaning he could move freely.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"Oh gee, you shouldn't have." Neil said with faux admiration as York had his 'good faith' present sent in. Taya, despite her fear of Saxon and York, couldn't help but giggle quietly. If it was any other circumstance, he would have admired the blonde woman with much more than a passing glance, but he felt like he wanted this entire situation behind them and ignored any Terran soldiers for the most part.
"Well, now that our cards are all on the table." Neil continued as Sven entered the room. "Let's talk. How big of a reward are we talking when we get the job done. Without tricks." He added and pointed at York. York inclined his head, seemingly amused at the nerve of asking for money before they were even briefed.
"That depends upon the manner of our discoveries. But thirty thousand credits seems good for a minimum, don't you think?"
Neil tried to speak, but then did some quick calculations in his head. He had expected more, but then again that was a good price for a moderately dangerous bounty, and all this mission was, was essentially being an escort and a guide through ruins they had likely already explored. "As a bare minimum, yes." he said slowly. Sayeeda rolled her eyes. The Hexanagallion flexed his hands once they were unbound, and his first glare was at Neil and York.
Unexpectedly however, were his next words. "On my honor, I shall comply."
Neil blinked, and York explained. "We promised dear Saxon here all of his belongings back and another 30,000 credits to not seek any...what did you call it?"
"Blood Vengeance."
"Yes that. And we gave a few concessions to Sven over here as well." The nordic Cyborg gave a neutral, impassable stare. It was the coldest thing in the room, and it was a fairly cold room. Lieutenant Woods cleared her throat, the strict command of her voice was as iron hard as the muscles on her arms. "If we are done, then shall we begin?" she asked. Taya nodded, and Junebug gave a nod and sat beside Neil and Taya. Saxon and Sven still stood, Sven known for not getting exhausted like normal men and Saxon simply too big to sit.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Woods took a step forward her full lips tugging into a grin as she beheld her audience. It must have seemed like quite a group. A massive Hex being held back from extracting blood vengeance, an eeriely calm cyborg, a pilot who was sassing the most dangerous man on the ship, a girl barely out of here teens and a mercenary captain who had officially been charged with murdering five Terran commandos.
She cleared her throat and touched the hologram with a fingertip. The map expanded to twice its original size. The hologram was so clear and perfect that Junebug thought she could see the oceans slowly moving in their tidal flows. Terran holographic tech, like everything else, was state of the art. The world had three continents one of which was a polar plate. Two red dots blinked in steady rythym.
"This," she said in a clear melodious voice, "is Site Alpha." Images, some from satellite, some from helmet cams populated in the air. It seemed to Junebug like they came from another lifetime but she recognised the lush tropical jungle of Saavran. There were other pictures, clearly taken after the fact with professional imaging equipment, showed a devastated forest and a vast, vaguely anthropomorphic ridgeline. Junebug shuddered, she had worked hard to put the strange golem thing that Neil had stopped from waking up out of her mind.
"Even after three years of research we haven't made much headway into understanding what happened," Woods explained.
"The original caverns you penetrated appear to have vanished. Sonar and other remote sensing gear suggests that the 'guardian' as we are terming it is a solid undifferentiated mass," Woods explained. Junebug's lips compressed into a frown.
"We saw it move though it cant be solid," she objected. Woods nodded at his.
"Yes we did, current theory from the experts is that it is some kind of super fluid solid that can harden itself when inactive. Whatever control chamber you penetrated must have been subsumed." Taya leaned forward clearly rapt to be learning about an adventure that had occured before she had joined the crew.
"Which brings us to Site Beta," Woods went on. The image rotated to bring up a red dot on the polar plate. More images appeared of strange cyclopean architecture thrusting up out of a sheet of perma frost.
"It only became active after you fucked up Alpha, and so far we haven't been able to get so much as a sensor drone within half a kilometer of the edge of it."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
As Woods took measure of the crew, she would notice the smallest columned sections of light emitting off Sven's eyes periodically, and Saxon's gill-like ridges huffing as he gazed at the anomaly that had occurred while he was still fighting the killer worm on the asteroid Neil had stranded him on. Neil watched as only a man who had survived multiple cataclysms would, somewhat tired but still having a stoic sense of humor about it.
"You know, I love messing up with the natural order of things. But I'm starting to think I draw the line at ancient super advanced tech that can come alive and devour planets." He said. "Anyone else feel that way? Just me?"
Woods couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry, pretty boy. We'll be there to watch your back." the shapely woman said with an amused smile. Neil blinked, and mouthed 'pretty?'
"We have calculated the risks." Woods continued with a more serious tone. York spoke up. "In fact, we even addressed your friend Sven here and received his input. The risks are hard to tell, but he garnered a rough estimate. Apparently we have a 58 percent chance of finding what we are there to look for and to leave with no casualties."
"From our current data, at least." Sven added.
"Do I at least get to pilot my ship?" Neil asked, hopeful smile on his face. When Woods said he was, he pumped his arm and mouthed 'wicked' before leaning back and tell her "Thanks babe." He'd not driven the Highlander for longer than he cared for. Neil had really started to get fond of that ship. That, and Lonney, of course.
"And me?" Taya asked.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Woods seemed a little uncomfortable for a moment and then manipulated her controllers. A video from a small electronic drone showed the same strange architecture from a higher angle. The drone closed quickly and a second feed from a ground based camera appeared showing what seemed to be the same vehicle as it approached the edge of the city. With a startling suddeness the drone picture went blank and the ground based feed showed the little vehicle suddenly exploding in a puff of smoke.
"We haven't been able to get any tech into site beta," she said, a red ring appeared around the site, marking the barrier.
"Biologicals haven't fared any better, we are working on the assumption that Pretty Boy's alien ink will get us through the barrier." She nodded at Taya.
"Best case we get a small window we can carry our tech through. Although I think we probably would be better off using our own people..." she trailed off and York rolled his eyes. Clearly it was an old argument between the two of them. Woods was too much of a professional to rehash it now.
"You will be coordinating tech support on the other side of the shield. We have to assume that comm nets and tech is going to need to be put together on the other side. We will be sending a tactical team in with you. My team. We are going to get in, get what intel we can and try to find someway to bring down the shield so that we can start properly studying the site. If you guys can do that for us, then its mission accomplished."
Sayeeda crossed her legs, looking at the logistics of the operation. It was clear that the Terrans weren't telling them everything. It seemed like they could just take Neil along and leave the rest of them ship side. Why was York so keen to get them all down on this mission?
"Well, we are still a month out, we are just going to cruise in the mean time?" she asked. Woods smiled as though she had been offered the most handsome man in the universe for the night.
"Of course not captain, that means we have a whole month to train up."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The first week had Neil and Sayeeda being put through basic training. Mostly as a formality rather than to aid them in anyway. Junebug obviously passed with flying colors, and Neil's only real problems were from a lack of discipline. However, it was the most amusing televid on the November Sky once they recorded the final obstacle course that they both participated in, competing against one another. More than once did Neil trip up Sayeeda, and Sayeeda planting her boot on Neil's chest multiple times.
Junebug beat Neil by 12 seconds, though they both made moderate time. No one doubted they would have made very good time if the were going separately. In the meantime, Taya was getting basic exercises, command signal classes, and even confidence training to help her in dire situations. Sven and Saxon were both analyzed and took various tests and scans for a 10,000 credit increase in their minimal payments, since a lawless Cyborg and a Xenos who was usually an enigma to the Terrans were hard to come by, and more than a few scientists were curious about them. Sven kept the scans on his various parts to a minimum, however.
After the week was up, they were separated during the day for additional tests. Junebug was tested for her superior combat aptitude, monitored by York. She was given a field test of firing at moving targets via laser gun in a controlled environment. Civilian targets were issued part the way through to avoid. After that, she was given a test on command language, and what she would need to remember in order to respond properly on the ground. She passed that easily as well.
York snorted. "Perhaps, Captain Cykali, you should be training our recruits."
Meanwhile, Neil had been asked to take apart and put back together a Voxx communicator. Woods monitored the test, and she went from amused to impressed when Neil finished minutes faster than any other recorded time, and he still had some time for a few jokes in between.
"How did you..." she began, then shook her head, clearing her throat and regaining some cool dignity. "Up next is close combat."
"Sure. Who is my sparring partner?"
"Me. This way, Pretty boy."
He had expected that he'd fight Junebug, but he guessed they had done enough of that on the obstacle course. He didn't know if she was insulting him or complimenting him with that name. "Hey, I'm manly alright?"</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil actually felt bemused for a moment, unable to really process his thoughts when a shapely woman pinning him down, asking him about his love life. The fact that she could likely kill him in hand to hand combat made it even sexier. That and, in all honesty, Woods seemed like a cool person. But at the same time, he didn't know what to say. He wondered if Junebug ever got asked that question. Why was it always him!?
Ok, calm down Neil. Just calm down. It doesn't matter that you're not dating Sayeeda. You need to remember that this girl is a Terran Commando, and you're wanted in 3 star systems, all of them Terran controlled. It'll keep you from feeling guilty, and you won't get involved with a Terran soldier. Just lie to her. You lie all the time. It should be easy, just lie.
"No," Neil said, meeting her eyes.
Woods smiled, and lifted her self up slowly and headed to the side bench, taking a towel to wipe off the sheen from her forehead. Her figure was hard to ignore as she did it. "So, does this mean I can take you to dinner after we change?" she asked. Neil's mind went full throttle again. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why didn't you just lie? Look, this can't end well for you or her, or anyone. You're days away from getting out of here Scot free, why are you doing this to yourself?
Neil hopped to his feet with just the swing of his legs and hips, like an acrobat. "Yeah, I could eat."
He'd given all the queues in the world for Junebug. If she wasn't interested, he'd find it somewhere else. Besides, what could eating some dinner hurt? It wasn't guaranteed to end in anything explicit, though he couldn't help but notice the swing of her own hips as she walked away to go and change. "I need to install Lonney in my brain to give me advice." he muttered.
---
10 minutes later.
Taya was still fretting over the kill switches implanted on the Highlander when she saw Neil enter the main access corridor. She had just left the restroom, having told Junebug she would go and grab all three of them something to eat, since Neil should be heading back over. The ship's night cycle was starting in less than an hour and they were all going to have a small meeting, with Taya telling Neil of the important details of the ship.
"Oh good," she said, and started to walk into the hallway. "N-" her words were cut off into a squeaking whisper when she saw Woods step out as well. Neil had on casual clothing, though he wore a commando belt and new shoes given to him by the terrans. Woods also wore casual wear, at least for her. She did have on combat trousers, but they fit snug on her slim waist, and her black top showed more than a hint of her generous bosom. Neil said something Taya couldn't quite catch and Woods laughed, and grabbed Neil's hand to lead him into the next Corridor. Neil's hair was combed to look somewhat managed will still have an attractive unkempt quality, and her hair was down for once, in lush waves.
Taya squeaked and scrambled away to tell Junebug.
---
"Hey Sven, what's up?" Neil asked him.
The next hall, Sven had been waiting for him and Woods. The tall, forbidding man looked at them like a snake might eye prey. His voice was even more gravely than usual, though that was probably from Neil having heard Wood's lovely voice for the past few hours of testing. "When we reach the ground, we don't know how technology will react." he said to Neil, and then paused. Paused like a machine loading. "You use a slug thrower. A .48 ironpuncher, approximately 3 pounds and with a 6.27 inch barrel. You should be safe. Tell your friends they might want slug throwers as well."
"...Ooookaaaay," Neil said. "Thanks Sven. Uh, I appreciate it."
He patted the cyborg on the shoulder, and then continued past him with his date. They made it to the officer's quarters in the 3rd hall, where there was a comfortable couch and a table cemented to the floor. Woods clapped her hands and the lights dimmed. "Wine?" she asked him.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"I see," Junebug said as Taya breathlessly reported her encounter with Neil. The Mercenary captain's face betrayed no emotion that the younger woman could read. Taya waited breathlessly for some further reaction or comment but Junebug merely continued to walk down the hallway. Several Terran crewmen were moving in the other direction with brisk urgency. Taya side stepped out of the way as they rushed passed.
"Is that all you have to say?" Taya demanded, clearly irritated by the lack of response from Sayeeda. The captain stopped and turned to face the woman.
"What do you want me to say Taya?" she asked, her voice cold and clinical as a galcier.
"Well anything would be a start," she replied in exassperation.
"It is down time, he is free to have dinner with whomever he likes. Is it ideal that he is cozying up to a Terran Millitary Inteligence operater?" She shrugged her shoulders. Perhaps Neil was trying to get information, perhaps Woods was, perhaps they were just legitmately having dinner. You couldn't control everything in the field and you would drown if you tried. Sayeeda turned and strode off towards the hanger bay.
"Weren't you going to get some food?" Taya called after her.
"Not hungry," Sayeeda called without looking back.
--------------------------
*Bing* *Bing* *Bing*
"All hands prepare for extraction," an automated voice declared over the public address system. Junebug looked down at the chrono display on her wrist unit. They were about an hour ahead of what the computer had projected but such variations in space and time were hardly uncommon. Carefully Sayeeda lowered the weights she had been lifting setting the bar down on the rest and sitting up. A moment later the color seemed to drain out of the universe and it hung for a second in a monocrome so sharp and pure it seemed to sear her eyes. Then the color was back and the November Sky was back in the real universe.
Sayeeda felt as though the air changed its taste and that the world seemed a little more vibrant. The Terrans claimed they had shielding that protected against the effects of long term immerstion in the RIP but the psychological effects could not be completely mitigated. The RIP wasn't part of the universe in anyway human biology expected to experience it. Sayeeda stood up and headed for the shower to wash up before reporting to York. She hadn't seen much of Neil or Taya in the last two days. She had been busy training herself on a number of Terran weapons she wasn't familiar with. She had also started a side project of sneaking Terran equipment onto the Highlander during the night shifts. Disguising weapons and munitions in more mundane supplies wasn't difficult. The Marine guards seemed to be fairly relaxed and the few times she had been challenged a vague mention of York's name had been enough to quell their questions. The arsenal aboard the Highlander had been steadily depleted over their various adventures, and Junebug figured the Terrans owed them about forty million credits in compensation for the aestimobium.
Junebug let the water run down over her body, sluicing away the sweat of her hour long workout with jets of lukewarm fluid. She was just reaching for the control when the ship lurched sideways with a violence that pitched the mercenary into the wall. Claxons exploded to life and there was another massive boom that seemed to shake reality.
"Alert Red, General Quaters!" the PA directed calmly. Sayeeda climbed out of the shower, pulling on her combat pants without bothering to dry off. Thrusting one arm through her t-shirt she stepped into the hall. Her hand rested on her pistol, though more for comfort than any expectation of actual need.
"Cykali to York," she said but received only the ping of an engaged signal. On a military circuit a higher ranking officers transmission would squelch a lower one, so York was clearly busy with whatever crisis was befalling them. The ship shuddered a second time and this time Junebug felt a tingle of static electricity prickle her skin.
"Unit," Junebug said, queing the transmission to Neil and the others.
"No idea what is going on, stand by." A gravely voice came back immediately.
"November Sky has exited jump, the Chalcedon cruisers Eastern Star and Sycantha have engaged the November Sky with mass driver fire." How Sven knew that Sayeeda had no idea.
"Say again? Are you saying we are involved in a fleet engagment?"</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The November Sky jerked suddenly, and a faint explosion could be heard within the deep of the ship. Neil was afraid for the ship, but he realized he had bigger problems when the hauler he had been modifying was now toppling over to from the shipquake. Neil rolled out of the way on instinct, roughly sliding across the floor. When he heard the steel grating thump, he had thought the machine had fallen. But instead, he looked to see the foot had moved to catch itself automatically.
"Nice," Neil said. The balancing systems seemed to be working out fine then. Full AI was not allowed under...well he didn't always follow Terran laws, but he also wasn't stupid. It was common sense not to create any advanced AI. But a system like this that could keep its balance in case Neil needed to focus on different things was invaluable.
Neil picked up the comm, pressing a finger to his ear. "Hey, what the hell is going on?"
Woods answered. "We're under fire. Meet us on the main deck."
---
Woods, Neil, Taya, and Junebug made their way up the access corridor of the vast ship. It was a mere hallway in the Highlander but here? Neil felt as if he was in a ship within a ship. The tall ceiling and wide halls were almost as vast as the halls in Aiden's palace. Woods and Neil had found Taya, only to be joined by Junebug a minute later. Neil gave her a greeting but she acted as if she didn't hear it.
"What happened?" Junebug asked.
"It looks like we aren't the only ones looking for ancient tech." Woods replied, both women looking forward rather than to each other. "It makes no sense, we received no intel on any blockade in the system. But it seems brigands and even an uncommissioned Terran ship has decided to claim this world for themselves. Luckily our ship outclasses theirs, but it looks like whatever arguments they had with one another are on hold as they try to take us down."
"I can maybe jam their frequencies against one another?" Taya asked. Neil pipped in with. "Get me on a gun, or give us the Highlander, we can do more help in there than here."
"Out of the question." Woods said, though she did give Neil a sly grin. "I wouldn't give it to you even if it was my decision, pretty boy." She spoke as if there was a week long inside joke between the two, Neil had to grin back. Before anyone else could speak up, York appeared before them as they entered the deck. "Luckily, I can give it to you." He said with an amused smile befitting a man of means who has just informed their wife of a party now on the calendar.
"But-"
"Not my orders, though it was my suggestion." York replied. Behind him, the multi-floored deck had dozens of men on terminals, and the blast windows showed lasers the size of streamline asteroids flying at targets dozens if not hundreds of kilometers away. "Seems Commander Tiberius has seen the wisdom of it. Luckily, I, Woods, and her crew will be accompanying us. As well as your two large friends. If we have a chance, we will continue on to the planet."
"Sir, it's hell out there." Woods said, though not out of fear. She could see that it was a pragmatic warning to give.
"Well, luckily we have an incredible pilot." York said, smiling to Neil.</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil was not unused to space flight (obviously), but jumping in and out of the RIP so many times made him feel as if his soul was taken out and stretched. His skin still crawled and he gripped the handle on the Highlander tightly with the unconscious nerves he had in his head. Leaving the RIP multiple times was something he wouldn't wish on anyone. Ok, maybe Aiden. But other than him.
Once everyone was seat and they were shot out into orbit, Neil release the stabilizers and placed in the 3.19 Algorithm, the freely spinning ship now catching itself in the void and speeding towards the planet amid a hailstorm of lasfire. Once Neil put on the display of the planet, he saw what everyone else saw. A sea of fire and ground upheaval across the belt of the planet. "Well, I wasn't expecting that." Neil said, then turned to York.
"Where the hell do you get your intel anyway?"
"Agents on the ground and satellite ships."
"Well they were not doing their job, this time." Neil replied, cranking up the sub-light engines and increasing the energy payload in the thrusters. Taya gripped the arms of her seat in anticipation, one of the laser coming perilously close to the Highlander. She and Sayeeda had seen Neil at work enough to know what was coming.
"Thank you for flying with Firestorm airlines. If you need to go to the restroom it's already too late, sit down and shut up." Neil said, as if reciting a written statement. The Highlander burst out of outer area and sped into orbit, Neil furiously placing in algorithms and steering freehandedly as the ship display spun and jerked.
"Multiple projectiles in sectors alpha, beta-!" Lonney called.
"I know!" Neil replied, and pulled back on a lever that looked suspiciously like a terrestrial ground vehicle's parking brake, and sure enough the Highlander jerked suddenly, causing everyone to get pulled forward before laying back in their seats. An explosion rocked the void in what was probably kilometers away, but seemed as if it was just next to them. Neil pulled a line down and power surged further into the Highlander. "I need more of the Auxiliary, Lonney. Oh and, give me some music too."
A background noise that sounded like a grating pipe suddenly turned into a guitar riff, and Neil grinned as the Highlander arced over a Chalcedon frigate. Even over the song, a loud beeping was evident. Neil looked at the radar and realized there were missiles on their tail.
"Is that classical music?" Woods asked over the comm, bemused.
"Everyone keeps saying that. This shit is new on Fortus." He replied touchily, and the troopers that now manned the lower guns of the Highlander shot down the initial missile barrage before Neil had to duck and weave past two others. The planet Saavran now loomed before them. Neil turned the ship downward, and sped straight forward into the equatorial firestorm. "Neil!" Taya screeched. Even York seemed a bit perturbed.
"They are not heat seeking missiles." York said to him.
It was too late. Neil had plunged into the flames at 10,000 kilomters per second, only to shoot up before engulfing the ship in magma. Even the void shields were nearly destroyed. But luckily once they crested the fire, the missiles were now confirmed gone. "No, but the plasma used in the mass drivers that accumulate in the fire should do the trick."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The Highlander rose out of the sea of flame by only a few dozen meters, trailing whisps of smoke from the tips of its wings. With the instinct of a combat commander Junebug slapped the weapons lockout circuit taking the Highlander's guns offline before the enthusiastic marines could continue firing. A dozen red warnings blasted across her screen but she silenced them with a tap of her fingertips. Neil wove them among falling torrents of ejecta, keeping them masked from the sensors of their pursuers. Junebug's instinct told her that the enemy fighters had written them off as dead, particularly as there was a real battle to fight with the November Sky and her squadrons.
For a few seconds there was relative silence save for a few alarms which couldn't be easily silenced, the steady ping of gravel and rocks against the hull and surviving shields, and Niel's music. Junebug took her hands somewhat gingerly from her controls and heard Woods blow out a breath that they were all feel.
"That was fucking insane," the Marine said with a look of incredulity at Niel. THe pilot was whistling along to his music and had put his feet up on the console, lazily flicking the controls to put the Highlander into a slow spin the slid her past some falling debris.
"You aint seen nothing yet," Neil responded with a smirk.
The atmospheric debris thinned as they streaked south towards the south pole, though the seas below still roiled with the seismic shocks that the planet had adsorbed. The planet, according to the sensors had enough airborne debris to send it into a moderate to severe nuclear winter. There had been no new impacts since the Terran warship had jumped in system however as all the Chalcedon ships had turned their attention to the newcomer, content to finish their bombardment once the threat had been neutralized.
It was hard for Sayeeda not to feel anger at the Chalcedons for such a tactic but then she had certainly firebombed forests, called in artillery with lethal payloads of defoliant chemicals and other environmental catastrophes and she had no doubt that if York thought bombing Saavran would fulfil Terran aims he would do the same thing. Except it wasn't the Terrans doing this. Why were the Chalcedons doing it? And if they were willing to go this far to deny whatever secrets where here to the Terrans, should she really be helping them.
"Coming up on Site Beta boys and girls," she said unstrapping and standing up. She pulled her helmet down and adjusted the fit, thumbing the familiar settings into place to give herself a 20 percent tactical overlay. York was smirking as though some cosmic joke were about to unfold.
"Lets lock and load."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"Alright, should be about a hundred kilometers away from the landing area." Neil said, redistributing the power supply and slowing the Highlander down. Steam erupted from a side valve to help cool the thrusters, and it brought an odd iron smell to the room. "If I was given the correct coordinates." He finished, hinting to York. The enhanced human gave a small laugh, patting Neil on the shoulder, assuring him that they had.
"Alright men!" Woods called to her team down the hallway. "Double check weapons! Anders, keep an eye on that-"
The Highlander slammed into something unknown and incomprehensible. It juttered so violently, Neil had thought it had hit the side of a mountain. Even with his seatbelt on, his head struck the console, and it was only thanks to there already being a metal plate in his skull that kept him from receiving a concussion. The others were luckier, not having anything close enough for them to crash into. Woods was flung into the wall, and by grace of her training, the safety was on in her gun.
The Highlander was now freefalling, and sensors beeped loudly in the crews ears as it plummeted out of the sky, smoke trailing. Lonney came up on the display. "Captain, First Mate, all power has been drained from the central systems. Auxiliary power is online, at 37%. Life support systems ar-"
They could breath and that was good enough for Neil. He cut Lonney off. "Us the Auxiliary to open the cylindrical core and insert a new cylander Lonney! Hurry!"
"Performing..."
The ship spun, and the vertigo was almost overwhelming. On the display, the view switched from forest to overcast sky over and over and over. Neil nearly began to lose consciousness, only by happenstance hearing a 'ping' from Lonney that signalled the task was done. With a scream, Neil returned the stabilizers and turned on the engines on low capacity, realigning the ship only half a kilometer over the forest.
"Reroute shields to the keel!"
The frigate smashed into the treeline, though Neil and Lonney had just managed to keep it from being a weighted comet. The Highlander hit the dirt and jumped, but it was controlled. Neil gritted his teeth as he kept it steady, the ship hauling through 3 kilometers of forest before it skidded to a full stop. Everyone in the cockpit was visibly shaken and relieved all at once. Neil checked Junebug and Taya to see if they were ok, then hastily unbuckled and vaulted over them to get to Woods, finding her on the floor but conscious. She'd had her helmet on, thankfully.
"You ok?"
She pulled him down and kissed him passionately. "We outta do that some more." she said.</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"Alright, should be about a hundred kilometers away from the landing area." Neil said, redistributing the power supply and slowing the Highlander down. Steam erupted from a side valve to help cool the thrusters, and it brought an odd iron smell to the room. "If I was given the correct coordinates." He finished, hinting to York. The enhanced human gave a small laugh, patting Neil on the shoulder, assuring him that they had.
"Alright men!" Woods called to her team down the hallway. "Double check weapons! Anders, keep an eye on that-"
The Highlander slammed into something unknown and incomprehensible. It juttered so violently, Neil had thought it had hit the side of a mountain. Even with his seatbelt on, his head struck the console, and it was only thanks to there already being a metal plate in his skull that kept him from receiving a concussion. The others were luckier, not having anything close enough for them to crash into. Woods was flung into the wall, and by grace of her training, the safety was on in her gun.
The Highlander was now freefalling, and sensors beeped loudly in the crews ears as it plummeted out of the sky, smoke trailing. Lonney came up on the display. "Captain, First Mate, all power has been drained from the central systems. Auxiliary power is online, at 37%. Life support systems ar-"
They could breath and that was good enough for Neil. He cut Lonney off. "Us the Auxiliary to open the cylindrical core and insert a new cylander Lonney! Hurry!"
"Performing..."
The ship spun, and the vertigo was almost overwhelming. On the display, the view switched from forest to overcast sky over and over and over. Neil nearly began to lose consciousness, only by happenstance hearing a 'ping' from Lonney that signalled the task was done. With a scream, Neil returned the stabilizers and turned on the engines on low capacity, realigning the ship only half a kilometer over the forest.
"Reroute shields to the keel!"
The frigate smashed into the treeline, though Neil and Lonney had just managed to keep it from being a weighted comet. The Highlander hit the dirt and jumped, but it was controlled. Neil gritted his teeth as he kept it steady, the ship hauling through 3 kilometers of forest before it skidded to a full stop. Everyone in the cockpit was visibly shaken and relieved all at once. Neil checked Junebug and Taya to see if they were ok, then hastily unbuckled and vaulted over them to get to Woods, finding her on the floor but conscious. She'd had her helmet on, thankfully.
"You ok?"
She pulled him down and kissed him passionately. "We outta do that some more." she said.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
ayeeda turned her back on Woods and Neil and headed back towards the rear of the ship. She wasn't sure how she felt about the relationship but tired to remind herself that Neil was an adult and fully capable of making his own decisions. It wasn't as though Woods was hard on the eyes in a 'I'll cut your throat and look fabulous doing it' sort of a way. What was it that bothered her so much? So deep was she in pondering the question that she nearly walked into Sven as he climbed up the access ladder towards the cockpit.
"What have we got," she demanded of the Cyborg. The question was completely open ended but Sven merely smiled his mirthless emotionless mile.
"The field that protects the city is not a uniform dome as the Terrans theorized, though from the one hundred and twelve probes they launched at it, that was a reasonable conclusion." They Cyborg did not appear to be impressed or dismayed by the result.
"Its also possible that ground shocks from the bombardment have distorted the underlying field."
"Suuuuper," Junebug said, stretching the word out with a definite lack of enthusiasm. She hopped down the ladder in a jump, flexing her knees to take the impact before heading back into the cargo bay as she headed towards the ramp controls one of the Marines reached out a hand to block her path.
"Maam we have to wait for Major York to…"
Junebug grabbed the mans arm by the wrist and yanked him off balance. Before he could recover she grabbed his head with both hands and slammed her knee up into the point of his chin with a crack. In classic Terran fashion he tried to sweep her legs from under her even though he must be reeling from the force of the blow. Junebug was ready for it, bringing her foot down hard on the inside of his armored leg, eliciting a cry of pain. With a negligent jab of her heal she send the man sliding across the deck in a limp boneless heap. Apparently all the extra training was paying off. Junebug became aware that a half dozen weapons were pointed at her but she merely turned and planted her fists on her hips.
"If anyone," she began in a quiet deadly voice.
"Tries to tell me what I can and can't do on my own ship. I will fucking kill you."
The Marines looked back and forth unsure of what to do. There was an unpleasant wrapsing sound and Junebug looked over to see Saxon licking his thin reptilian lips with his long tongue. It took her a moment to realise that he was laughing.
"Neil can we get a damage report," she said into her commlink. Ignoring the moaning marine and the pointed weapons she dropped the ramp and let in a blast of icy arctic air.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil helped Woods to her feet, making sure she wasn't hurt anywhere. When she laughed and protested, Neil backed off and they shared a smile. Though it quickly was wiped off of his face when he heard the unmistakable sound of a knee to the face, and Neil spun and blinked just in time to see Sayeeda threatening the troops and storming out, past Sven and the others. Neil was afraid suddenly. Woods stepped beside him. "Is she ok?"
York had also seen, stepping out and opening his mouth. Neil grabbed the man by the shoulder, interrupting him. "Wait wait...just let her be." Neil advised. York looked bemused at the whole spectacle, and Neil could tell he would likely cite the procedure of striking a man of a terran outfit. But instead he asked 'Why the devil she was in such a fit."
"I don't know." Neil said, holding him back. "But you don't want to lose group cohesion so early, particularly by making Sayeeda even more angry. I'd rather fight Saxon."
"Neil can we get a damage report." the Captain's voice barked on the comm. Neil visibly nodded, even though she wasn't around to see. "Y-yeah, you got it."
Neil grabbed a jacket from his quarters and headed out of the loading area, the bay doors now firmly set in the snowy ground. As soon as he stepped out, he felt the icy wind cutting into him. He could see vast and tall trees, seemingly having crash landed in a Coniferous forest. He went around to the back to check the damaged hull. As he did so, Saxon stepped out in full armor, even his bestial head now encased in Xarconian metal and plascrete. Sven wore his normal beggar rags and cloak, seemingly unaffected by the weather.
Woods called to her men, and they stepped out in a practiced fashion, keeping eyes on their 12 o'clock, 8 o' clock, and 4 with rifles raised. Their winter gear now switched to white rather than the standard black, and goggles set above their eyes to put on and see through various forms of vision at a moment's notice. York stepped out with them, also only wearing a light jacket and seemingly able to take the weather much like Sven.
Once Neil had taken a look at the ship's perimeter, he called back to Sayeeda on the comm. "She's still able to fly, but not nearly at peak capacity, and the shields are damaged. We might take one standard hit before we're open to any attack. The...looks like the landing gear is also out of alignment, should be easy to fix though. The bad news is, we don't have much power left. I can maybe make it out of here but I can't go to any other system before I get more power cylinders."
"I trust you can fix that." she said bluntly, and the comm was shut off before he could reply.
"...Sure," he said to himself, and sighed.
Before them, trees stood tall, and a wall of white emanated off them as the wind whipped. Behind them, past the tree line, a mountain of fire licked the sky.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug felt the crunch of permafrost beneath her feet as she took her place in the line of soldiers as they advance towards the wall of snow draped pine trees. Her terran undersuit turned white but her own ceramic breastplate remained steadfastly tan. The trusty old armor was mottled with ceramic patching from a dozen minor mishaps and it clashed sufficiently to make her stand out among the group. She looked at the unarmored York and grinned. York's expression was strangely guarded as though he expected some reaction from her, but raised a questioning eyebrow.
"I was just thinking how glad I am to have someone like you along," she confided with a ghost of a smile.
"Why is that Captain?"
"You are a more obvious target for snipers than me." York laughed in amusement at the notion, a sound that drew a concerned glance from Woods and several of the nearby soldiers.
"I don't think that any guardians the Ancient's left in this place are likely to be using modern scout sniper training," York said, his tone conceding the point to her even though the words refuted it.
"Hey it is your life," she said before knuckling her chest plate, "and mine I guess." York nodded equiabley. Ahead of them one of the soldiers looked up from his scanner and held up a fist in what Sayeeda presumed was the Terran field signal for halt. The line of soldiers stopped within a second or so, crouching down to make themselves as small targets as was possible.
"Why didn't you take the body armor we provided?" the intelligence officer asked after a moment. Junebug shrugged and was silent for a moment before responding.
"I guess i've lived this long with my own equipment, why take the chance right?" York laughed again earning an irritated glance from Woods who would apparently have preferred silence.
"Superstitious Captain?"
"It has worked so far," she repeated. The soldier with the scanner reached into an ammunition pouch and withdrew a small object that turned out to be a portable luminator, an electric kind rather than the chemical types Junebug was familiar with. He thumbed the unit live and tossed it like a grenade towards the trees. The glowing ball sailed in an arc towards the pines, and then, suddenly flickered out and fell dead into the snow. Junebug's helmet, familiar with the effect from previous Terran data drew a holographic redline across the snowy landscape at the projected location of the barrier.
"Mr Edwards," York said over the commlink, "Its time to see if they will open up when you knock on the door."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
A few of the strike team seemed uneasy by the way they stood, even if their faces were neutral and hardset. If Neil hadn't already worked with soldiers in the past, he wouldn't have noticed. But he did, and he couldn't blame them. "Oh, it's my party now?" he asked audibly, then stepped forward, feeling the ice particles beneath him crunching until he made it to where the the grenade had fallen short. He held out his right hand.
Nothing.
"Other hand." Junebug seethed.
"Oh yeah." Neil replied, and held out his left hand.
The grenade detonated.
The group crouched and held their hands in front of their faces, though they were too far off to be effected. If Neil had been standing 10 feet to the right, he would have been consumed, but miraculously he was ok, other than a few scratches from the smallest bits of shrapnel, and a ruddiness to his right side having felt a sudden, intense heat. He lay face first in the snow. Woods and Taya rushed over to him, the soldier woman aiming her rifle at the woods as she knelt down by Neil, and Taya shook him. "Neil, are you ok?"
He lifted his head, a bit cut but alright. "I guess we know that the technology works now." he deadpanned.
Saxon growled, as if disappointed that Neil was still alive. In all probability, he was disappointed. York shook his head, though he did have a smile on his lips. The light hearted feeling of the group, and the success of the tattoo, was short lived. It was replaced with fear and wonder as the earth beneath them began to shake for a few, heart pounding seconds before a shape began ascending from the ground not a dozen paces north of them. A vast shape, as large as the Highlander, that split and lifted the tall pines. Small Xenos animals began scurrying away into the dark recesses of the forest in shock and fear.
Lights, both red, white, and green, began to flicker from the smooth, impossibly smooth, multifaceted building that surfaced, and a large red scan began to filter down across the group. Woods quickly grabbed Neil's hand and held it out, and when the scanner motioned over it, a door, the shape of half an oval, opened up from the center. Everyone stopped for a moment, unsure of what to do. Even Sven, the near emotionless cyborg, gaped in awe as he drank in the sight, as if he could sense the level of technology that dwarfed all that he had yet seen in this life.
Neil gathered himself up, dusting the snow off of him and helping Taya up. He took out his heavy caliber revolver. "Well, I'm ready when you're ready."</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug watched in amazement as the door irised open before them. Inside was a strange swirling opalescence like the surface of a soap bubble but opaque to the eye. She looked dubiously at the holographic line that her helmet had projected as the limit of the shield. She moved forward cautiously while the Terrans hunkered down pointing weapons at the building, though what threat they thought would emerge from it she had no idea.
Reaching the projected limit of the shield she took a small ultraviolet marking beacon, a flat cylinder the size of her palm and tumbed it on before tossing it like a discus. The plastic unit bounced off the wall of the newly risen building and fell to the snow. A continual strobe of ultraviolet light pulsed from the unit, clearly visible to her helmet which was set to carrot such things.
"Looks like the tech shield is down entirely," she called back to the Terrans and without another word stepped across the threshold. Absolutely nothing happened, whether temporarily or permanently, it seemed that the defences that had protected this place were down. She trudged the thirty meters to the wall and retrieved the beacon, turning it off and clipping it to her belt. The rest of the party was moving cautiously forward, even Sven who had more reason to fear technological disruption than the rest of them.
Junebug moved to the portal and unslung her Terran plasma rifle. Holding it by the grip like a vast pistol she slid it into the opalescent portal so that the rubberized eyepiece of the optical sight was on the outside but the end of the lens was on the inside. Rather than crouching down to look through the sight directly, she touched a button on the stock of the weapon that remoted the sight picture to her helmet. It was a technique which was occasionally useful for shooting from positions where you didn't dare stick your head up, but more frequently used by command staff to view what their troopers were seeing. The sight picture opened in her helmet in a small window in the upper right corner.
"Whoa," she breathed and stepped through the portal vanishing from sight.
Junebug stood at the edge of a vast city of bone white monoliths. At least her mind told her it was a city even though none of the 'buildings' had any recognisable function. The portal still shimmered behind her, set into a large lintel of the same cream white material. Here and there ancient and twisted trees coiled towards the sky in odd spiral shapes, their bark curiously rough in a place where everything was so smooth. The air above her head was filled with hundreds, or thousands of what appeared to be floating leaves of pale blue, though they bore no resemblance to the foliage of the trees and were completely independent of any kind of support. The volume of space here couldn't possibly fit into the entryway she had come through. Looking up she saw that the sky above was completely black, lacking any visible stars.
Curiously she flicked her helmet selector to through its various modes, thermal revealed nothing other than that the place was of an unusually uniform 25.3 degrees but the return on the lidar was so chaotic and fragmented that the helmet display crashed back to regular viewing with a trailing stream of red error messages. The movements sensors too were going crazy. Although the blue leaves, or whatever they were, appeared stationary they must have been moving enough to trip the motion detection program. The atmosphere sensors reported breathable, if slightly too oxygen rich, air so she pulled off her helmet.
There was a slight movement behind her as one of the Terran commandos stepped halfway through the portal. The man, Rosenant she thought his name was, paused halfway through the portal, giving the distinct impression of being cut in half. He stuck his head back through the portal and then stepped fully through. A moment later York appeared, snowflakes still decorating his hair and an irritated expression on his face.
"Captain Cyckali, did it occur to you that the environment here might be animical to human life?" he asked acidly. Junebug shrugged her shoulders.
"The bunker wasn't and nothing in the old records suggested humans and ancients had different metabolic requirements," she said her smile hardening as she continued to speak. No doubt the Terrans had drones and other such equipment which they would have used before sending anyone through the doors.
"Besides you can fuck around on your own time, the sooner we are done with this the sooner my crew and I can be on our way."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"You are on our time until we see your service through." York reminded her.
Neil poked his head through next, looking like a body-less head floating in the iridescent portal. York thought it looked very much like Mr. Edwards on the chopping block, and judging by the way the Captain Cykali had been angered earlier, he did not know if it was an echo of things to come. Neil moved his hand through next, and then his entire body. He grinned at himself, feeling, knowing he was completely fine. He poked his head back out to tell Taya and the others, and soon the rest of them stepped through.
Tentatively, they moved forward, spreading out in a loose, skirmish formation as they lowered themselves into the sloping 'jungle' of whatever these constructs or materials were. Even Saxon stepped with caution. His race was older than that of the human's, and though they did not know the Ancient Ones well, they were recorded in their histories from antiquity, rather than being cordoned off as myth by the younger races. He was now stepping back in time, to those who had integrated and mentored his Ancestor Gods.
Neil watched Sven run his hand over one of the monoliths, a very human gesture, though no doubt filled with calculations beyond measure. "Harder than steel," he croaked, examining the material. "Less ductile, and lighter, if my scans are correct. But far harder, and able to..." He stopped, and blinked, as if he what he was going to say, but he had run into a mechanism that blocked something harmful or overwhelming to his senses.
"Now what?" Woods asked, her gun up and ready. Her team's locations were on the HUD of her tactical helmet, spreading out further as they explored the vast room. There had to be an end to it, but it already defied physics judging from the space they now traversed. What if there was no end?
"Mr. Edwards, if you would kindly step forward with me." York said, hailing Neil to him. Taya stuck close to York and Sayeeda already, and Neil moved from his examination of the monolith with Sven to report for duty. Though as he approached the center lane, his hand began to pulsate feebly, and he felt strange. A sensation he had felt before but...not like this. He suddenly felt as if he had a biological need to move forward, not by York's orders. But something greater. Deeper. Like a hunger, or even a sexual appetite.
He moved forward then, his irises growing larger in his dark eyes, unable to pull himself from the teasing call he received in his mind. York began to speak to him, and then attempted to halt him. But Neil could no longer hear him. Instead he moved forward, enthralled to the call that flowed through his very being, the catalyst of which was his hand.
It was at that moment, that Woods noticed two of her men had disappeared from the HUD.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Cambre? Khan? Report," Woods called, every member of the small team paused and scanned as if expecting to see the two men even though they had vanished from sensors more advanced than human eyes by an order of magnitude. Woods scrolled back throught the sensor logs before looking at York with a worried expression.
"Nothing, it looks like they were there one minute and gone the next..."
Junebug moved closer to Taya, as though by her presence might protect the girl. Taya wore borried body armor but it clearly had been intended for medics or other support personnel rather than front line troops. A side arm was belted to her hip but right now all she was holding was a multiphase scanner unit many times more powerful than those that the helmets used.
"I dont see anything but there is an odd... disturbance in the air flow," Taya reported glancing skywards at the odd floating leaves. Junebug tracked the glance with her rifle but saw nothing to alarm her.
"It looks as if they should be moving, but they are not..."
"Sir," Woods called, "We need to search for our people." York looked around as though vexed.
"Ok everyone stay in visual range, skirmish line with five meter intervals, keep everyone in visual," he commanded. The soldiers spread out as best they could into a ragged line.
"Are we just going to wander blindly or..." Junebug began but York cut her off.
"Previous ancient sites we have surveyed tend to be organized around a central hub. The curve of the wall here can be used to suggest the center," York explained. Junebug couln't imagine he was much of an archaeologist but he had clearly read the field reports of those who did have the specialist knowledge.
"Mr Edwards will lead us with his magic hand," York added as he fell into his own position with the line. A directional line appeared on Junebug's helmet, leading deeper into the strange cityscape. She gudied Taya next to Neil, reasoning his presence was the best gaurntee of safety they had.
"Lets move out!"</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil moved forward inexorably, no longer aware of his companions around him. Taya, having noticed that nothing witty or silly had come out of Neil's mouth for more than a minute, waved her hand in front of his face. He gave no indication that he saw her, still walking forward with his hand out, as if to grasp something that was always just beyond reach. Woods squinted and looked at Neil, noticing Taya's concern. "Pretty boy?"
"Captain," Taya said, drawing Junebug's attention. "I think there's something wrong with Neil..."
Junebug looked at him, shaking his shoulder. When he didn't respond, she barked. "Edwards! Front and Center!" But it was to no avail. York shrugged, only glad the pilot was still walking. Junebug sighed, shaking her head at their predicament. Saxon and Sven walked behind them, silently moving and observing, with little interest other than what lay ahead.
Another dot on the radar disappeared. Woods spun, her gun trained on where O'Bannon had just disappeared. She could see nothing. Only the ghost-like monoliths standing erect and silent. York spoke over the comm. "I ordered all eyes on everyone" he lectured. "What is happening, Lieutenant?"
Woods shook her head, full lips parted and blue eyes searching for any sign of the soldier. "Everyone close in." she ordered, and the men began to form up in an archaic, closed formation one might expect from a las-lock world where soldiers used single shot volleys against locals. The leaves still hung above them, silent yet somehow exuding a sense of watching the group as they moved. At the fore, Neil suddenly halted, and his fingers began to twiddle in midair.
Taya shook her head, confused. It took a moment, but a holograph began to form. It took the shape of a console, smooth and advanced, with dimensions that seemed somehow off. A certain wrongness to it that annoyed the eye, and yet remained elusive to its shape. Neil's hands intricately pressed the various buttons on the console, as if writing a 'code' or an algorithm as he often did on the Highlander.
Without warning, the monoliths began to shift. Stone-like material grinded against the smooth structures as they began to turn, lifting up to lay horizontally rather than standing vertically scant seconds before. Somehow, the room seemed even more silent than it had been when they had first entered, as if the very movement of the monoliths caused a silence before the storm. Junebug grabbed Neil, shaking him. "Neil! Wake up!" she called to him.
Hesitantly, Woods approached one of the monoliths. She wanted to help Neil, but she was married to her job first, and she needed to admit she had a rapt fascination with what these structures could possibly be for. Her gun pointing upwards, she lay a strong hand on the smooth metal, suddenly realizing there was a small pressure button near the top of this particular piece. Her slim fingers merely brushing it set it off, and a small portion of the metal 'slipped' open at the top.
She gasped, stepping back, unable to process what she had seen through the glass opening. Junebug noticed and approached too, stepping forward and peeking over to see a Xenos, though one unlike any she had ever seen. Its head was tall and nearly pointed, with large eyes and two slits that no doubt served as a nose. The mouth was covered by a mouthpeice, and its skin was leathery. If it lay in the monolith, it must be tall, albeit lithe.
"What in Gideon..."</s>
|
<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The room seemed to quiet down, and everyone took a breather as the floating disks were no longer a threat for the moment. York smiled through his mustache, amused as usual. "Well, that was a bit more hazardous than I had hoped." he said. The next move from Neil was sudden. As if Neil's arm was being used by some unseen force, his elbow shot back and struck York in the chest, sending the man skidding across the ground.
Sparks shot out from Neil's tattoo, and he blinked, anyone in his line of sight could see that he had somewhat regained control of himself. "What?" he mouthed, confused as to what was occurring. He didn't have time to continue however, because suddenly his body began to spasm and contort, and he fell from his standing position to being curled up on the ground. The soldier's trained their guns on him, superstitious fear evident in their eyes.
"Hold fire!" York declared, gathering himself up and and dusting off his vest. Those that were physically closer to Neil could hear his seething breathes of pain. It was a new sound. He had been hit, thrown around, cut, and even shot, and he had never made these kinds of agonizing noises. It was as if something was touching and stretching his very nervous system. Sweat began beading off of his arms and what part of his face people could see through the thrashing, and a shoulder 'popped', though whether out of place or back into place, no one was certain.
And then the pilot slumped into the floor, limp and motionless. The marines held their rifles up, but they relaxed a bit after moments of no movement. Taya turned and buried her face into Sayeeda's shoulder, unable to process what where they were or what was happening. Saxon gave a guttural chuckle. "It looks like his luck had finally run out." he rumbled. Woods and Sven gave him a sideways glare, though for different reasons. Woods for romantic plans foiled, and Sven because logically, Neil was their best chance for escape.
It was fortunate for everyone that Neil groaned moments later, and a few gasps were heard as he drew himself up to a sitting position, looking more or less his old self. "Fuck," he breathed, scratching his head and blinking, as if to get used to light his eyes weren't used to. "That hurt more than I thought it would."
Woods and Junebug both looked relatively relieved, though it would only be if one looked close. Taya instead ran to him and gave him a hug. He hugged her back, appreciating that was always going to be the one with her heart on her sleeve. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he repeated to her questions of what happened and how she believed him to be dead. York cleared his throat and stepped forward, inclining his head. "It is good to have you back as yourself, my boy. What exactly did happen?"
"Just me having 2 million years of Alien knowledge uploaded into my brain." Neil said.
"Bullshit." Woods said, eyeing him.
"...Yeah it is. Well, mostly. I do know the layout of this place better, and its function." he said, getting to his feet and stretching. He continued to explain at York's insistence. The men lowered their weapons with a wave of Wood's hand. "I was being whispered to in my mind." Neil explained. "Echoes in my head... I did see images. Images I never thought I would see. Places in the universe I had never been to. Monsters I had never seen. Science beyond ours...I even saw early man. I don't know. But, what I mostly saw was the history of this facility. And I know it's a fail safe facility, against the God Machine near the equator."
"Where do we go now?" Junebug asked.
Neil pointed down the leftmost corridor. A lowlight hall with hexagonal dimensions that never quite closed into shape, defying the eye's expectations for what was meant to be and what was. Neil cleared his throat. "The rest of the facility is that way. The other three doors go to living stations, or have collapsed." He said. The air through that tunnel did smell more fresh than the stale, recycled air that permeated the room they were currently in.
"Let's move out!" Woods called, and the men hopped to, moving into Delta formation and keeping their rifles trained on their 9 and 12s, though they visibly blinked and shifted every time their eyes passed over the strange proportions of the hallways interior. Neil strode at the front, walking through and speaking about the things he garnered from his brief entrancement. "You know, it's pretty wild they developed their civilization two million years before we invented the written word. I think they began their first interplanetary travel with Muon-catalyzed fusion, like we did."
"Neil?" Junebug asked. He zipped his lip and looked at her, expectantly. "You said this place was a failsafe, as well as a research facility."
"Yeah." Neil said.
"Failsafe how?"
"By Decimation." a voice said behind them. They all turned in an instant, guns trained on something they least expected. One of the Old Ones stood there, though it was not flesh and blood. It was a hologram. Sven immediately scanned the apparition, and confirmed it as an A.I. system, albeit a bit rudimentary for the heights of technological advancement this race could usually achieve. The hologram continued. "The chosen one is correct, it is a failsafe. Something to be activated in only the most dire circumstances."
Junebug gave Neil a questioning look. He nodded. "In other words, we're standing on a star system sized bomb."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug swept the barrel of her rifle back and forth through the head of hologram experimentally. The picture shimmered slightly but showed no other sign of having noticed. York was looking at Neil with an expression she couldn't read but didn't seem to her to bode very well. Everyone else seemed frozen by the unexpected turn of events.
"What happened to the men who vanished?" Junebug asked, walking in a circle around the alien projection. No matter what angle she assumed it seemed to be facing directly at her but there was no transition whatsoever.
"All non essential querants are to be terminated," the hologram responded. Junebug glanced to Woods who looked grim but clearly hadn't expected any other answer.
"Are we in danger now?" Junebug asked.
"All non essential querants are to be terminated," the hologram repeated.
"Can N...er 'the chosen one' deem us essential querants?" Junebug asked.
"That is not the function of the chosen one. That functionality is not essential."
"Why do you…" the hologram flickered and vanished and the whole building shuddered. Dust rained down from the ceiling. A second later another hammerblow struck the structure.
"That's orbital bombardment," York noted, he rubbed at his chest and cast an irritated glance at Neil. The Chacedon ships must have either destroyed the November Sky or driven it back into the RIP long enough to resume their attack. The shield that had held the Terran's off must have been immensely strong to prevent them from being instantly obliterated. Junebug didn't want to think about what that meant for the Highlander right now.
"Neil, whatever the fuck you need to do we need to do it now," she snapped grabbing Taya by the shoulder and pulling her away from the pilot. Seconds mattered right now and she couldn't afford to waste valuable seconds calming the girl down.
"Wait just a min…" York began but Junebug had nonchalantly swung her weapon to bear on the spook. She didn't make a point of it but it was obvious that the Terran recognised the threat.
"Not a discussion," she said in a voice that held no more warmth than a blizzard. Woods and her surviving two marines shifted uncomfortably. Saxon raised his arm and Sven seemed to produce a knife from nowhere. It still wouldn't have been great odds. Sayeeda was confident she could put down York but the angle would preclude her from taking any of the remaining three Terrans. It was possible that Saxon and Sven would put them down, but it was vanishingly unlikely they would manage it before the chamber was filled with an unsurvivable amount of gunfire. Another tremor shook the building, this one was worse than the last by orders of magnitude.
"Its not the Chacedons," Neil said unexpectedly. Everyone paused and looked at the pilot whose eyes were very wide.
"Its starting to wake up."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The planet shuddered beneath them. Even so far underground, the tremors were undeniable, meaning it couldn't be local shockwaves in the surrounding area. "Wait, wait!" Neil said, holding his hands up to calm the situation down. He placed a hand on Junebug's rifle, looking her in the eye. Her gaze met his, and it took her many moments before she lowered her gun.
"We can do both." Neil said, snapping his gaze at York to make sure he would hold himself from drawing any weapon. Luckily, he seemed to not be making any sudden movements. Instead he motioned for Neil to continue impatiently. The pilot guessed he wanted as little bloodshed or chaos as possible at the moment.
"We need to leave. But you can grab whatever technology you wish on the way out. You have more to see." He explained. "But we need to hurry, so if we're done threatening each other, I can lead us the fuck out. Is that good for you guys?" He sounded as if he was talking to children or particularly slow learners. He realized that probably wasn't the smartest tone but he had just had his entire internal being violated by an alien presence.
Once they were underway, there was a palpable tension that could likely by cut by a blunt knife, but they still moved and stayed alert. Sven watched the walls of the corridor, analyzing the dimensions and finding an odd calculation. The dimensions were akin to the Pi equation, unending in figures. At least as far as Sven's processing power could tell, the figures have not ended yet.
The end of the corridor led into a chamber made of what seemed to be glassteel, with a large console on the left and blast doors to the left and forward. To the right was an exhibit, with what seemed to be stasis fields holding various certain beings in a floating suspension. It was an odd thing to see, for in the stasis chambers, there was what looked to be one of the Xenos that was in the monoliths earlier, along with a cro magnon man, three unknown Xenos of probable ancient origins, and a very slender version of an archaic Hexanagallion.
Saxon's visage was hard to determine, but he seemed both conflicted and in awe at viewing what was likely an ancient ancestor of his race, and what this meant. Woods and the other marines had a similar view on the situation. York and Sven on the other hand were interested in the console. "Neil, can you activate it?" York asked. "What does it contain?"
"Information," Neil said, stepping forward and moving on instinct and operating the console. "I can extract it for you so you can shut the hell up about it. But we need to open the forward door as well. I just need a minute of time and we can get out of here."</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug waited, she was nervous, you would have to be insane not to be, but she was also a veteran. One of the many things you learned in a career as a professional killer was that you had to transmute your neves into something useful or you would drive yourself crazy. Rather than appearing jumpy, her breathing slowed and her motions became precise, her eyes and expression as cold and colorless as a snake. Looking up she saw Saxon watching her with unusual interest. There was no way for her to read the lizard like aliens expression, they deviated to far from human norms for that, but his long tongue flickered out as though tasting the air and the scales beneath his neck seemed to bulge and redden.
Another tremor rocked the structure, this one was bad enough that a thin crack appeared in the odd ancient ceramic. The bodies continued to float in status. York was scanning the room with some sort of handheld electronics, a short wand with a spherical attachment. Junebug guessed it was some sort of multispectral scanner that was recording everything that was going on though she couldn't pretend she really cared. York watched over Neil's shoulder engrossed in the strange glowing runes that flickered above it, filling the room with an unsteady orange light that reminded Junebug of distant fires.
Taya stood beside Junebug clearly unable to decide what to do and clearly terrified.
"How do you stay so calm," the girl whispered. Junebug shrugged her shoulders, the armor she was wearing exaggerating the motion.
"Practice," she replied, sounding nonchalant.
"Had much practice being killed by ancient space gods?" the girl all but chirped. Junebug smiled in spite of herself. Taya was young, but if she could manage to be sarcastic at a time like this, there might be a future for her. Junebug regretted she hadn't had time to teach the former aristocrat more, but it wasn't like they had enjoyed a lot of downtime in the past several months.
"I've seen alot of different types of death," she said seriously.
"I can honestly think of worse ways to go than being incinerated when the planet tears itself appart." There was a sudden sound like a torrent of water breaking a dam and the stream of symbols became a flood, lighting the chamber like noontime in the desert. Neil stared wide and unblinking into the sudden flood of symbols, his hand pulsing with its own inner light.
"What is happening?"</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil typed furiously, the lights on the console splayed across his visage, as well as York's and Sven's. The cyborg looked between Neil and the console, confused at how Neil was moving so fast that even a being as efficient as he was having a tough time keeping up. Honestly, even Neil didn't know how he knew the alien symbology or even where to begin with extracting various data files of information.
"How am I doing this?" he asked aloud, his fingers moving in a blur. The clacking of the keyboard audible, despite the fact it appeared to be a touchpad. He grinned for a moment and then looked away from the console, even taking one hand off of it as he gazed smugly over at Junebug and Taya. His left hand continued to operate the advanced machine with a million Yottabyte's of processing power. "Impressive, eh?" he asked them. When Woods glanced over, he flexed with his free arm. She shook her head but smiled nonetheless.
The fact that Sayeeda and Taya merely looked at him made him realize he should probably not push his luck, and when he went back to give the console his full attention, he confirmed his suspicions that he was still on track with extracting the information from the machine. Beside him, the AI appeared once more. "The information located in is to be transferred to the Terimas System and retransferred into the Helyaspontine Metric."
York raised an eyebrow, looking at Neil. The Pilot explained. "In the event of a cataclysm, the Ancient Ones wanted the information here to be moved to a more secure location where it could be put to better use. Likely another facility."
"Ah," York said, and spoke no more of it. Of course the transhuman was simply wishing to take the ancient knowledge of a highly advanced civilization for Terran use and damned to its original purpose. Neil simply wanted to extract it so they could get out of here.
"Got it!" Neil said. A small, delicate looking disk slipping out of the console. It was made of the same material as the monoliths in the previous room, which buggered the mind of exactly what the material was. Neil figured he could learn if he lived through this, and he handed the disk to York, who promptly placed it in his jacket pocket. The blast doors forward slid open, and Saxon, who was gazing at his predecessor in the stasis chamber, was the closest. Though it took him a moment to notice the doors had slid open. He was tall enough to glance through and see the walkway led into the forest.
Cold air rushed into the room to greet them, as well as even more tremors in the earth.
"Let's get the hell out of here." Neil said.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
It didn't take them long to reach the surface. Whatever else had been communicated to Neil's mind he clearly had an exit route planned. The coiled around several corridors, rushing through chambers the purpose of which Sayeeda couldn't guess. All the while the tremors grew more frequent and more violent, until merely staying upright became a real challenge. At last they burst out onto the snowy polar tundra, having avoided the open dome with their deadly ceramic discs. The Highlander sat perhaps three hundred meters away, although slightly around the corner of the shield dome from their present location.
As soon as their boots touched the perma frosts all the Terrans tensed and York touched a finger to his ear. Junebug reengaged her helmets electronics suite with the flick of a switch and her helmet AI immediately tuned her into the commo net the Terran's were using. It was a crackling static hash with only occasional understandable syllables but the computer did its best to correct the signal.
"...ty… have sustained heavy.... respond.... equitorial anoma…."
Though the signal was poor it was unmistakable slugged as the November Sky, which meant at least the vessel hadn't been destroyed. York didn't bother trying to respond, instead he lead the party at a run to the battered freighter. Junebug half carried Taya as they rushed up the ramp, Neil leaping up the ladder and into the cockpit a half second ahead of the mercenary. Without even a pretense of caution Neil lit all six thrusters at once and the ship tore into the sky, wind howling through the still closing landing ramp.
"How long have we got to get out of the system?" Sayeeda demanded as they climbed through the troposphre.
"Seven Garl't," Neil responded automatically, his hands flying over the controls.
"What the fuck is a Garl't?" she demanded. The pilot shrugged helplessly.
"Damned if I know, it must be..." Neil trailed off as they broke the atmosphere. Towards the equator a vast silvery thing was tearing itself free of the earth. Sayeeda guessed that it must have been the size of a small city and it was bathed in a crackling electric discharge. The atmosphere above it ionized and there was a flash of nuclear detonation as a mass driver struck the thing on the side of the shoulder. The creature, whatever it was, didn't pause, it merely raised a massive palm and a green beam of light, so bright that the Highlander's optics blacked it out to save from burning the crews retinas, lashed skyward. One of the Chalcedon cruisers vanished from the sensor board.
"Get us to the November Sky," Sayeeda said, her voice, normally calm, held an unexpected note of awe. She tapped a series of keys feeding Neil the vector information he needed. Below them the planet began to pulse, its mantle beginning to crack, the oceans boiling as the volcanic fury beneath bubbled up from mile long cracks in the planets skin.
The November Sky shuddered out of the rip, a mere two or three thousand kilometers away, having outrun the light of its departure. The bow of the ship was a mass of melted metal where it had suffered a mass driver hit from one of its opponents. The void shields had saved the ship, though it would be months or years in dock to repair the damage.
"Get us aboard," York snapped but they were already moving towards the open launch bay.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The ship shook as if it was trying to phase through a barrier that wasn't there. The very atmosphere of Savren now contorting and shuddering. It was all Neil could do to keep the ship steady as he punched all of the auxiliary power through the sublight thrusters. If they were lucky, they would have just enough power to make it to the November sky, and maybe a R.I.P. jump just in case. But other than that, the power modules had been damaged too much for Neil to be comfortable with the Highlander.
Beneath them, the God Machine rose up, and for a moment it was still, as if it was a monument to a bygone era. It had the likeness of a vaguely human shape, with a crest rising above its head, and it was noticeably without a nose of any kind. The helpless survivors of the bombarment upon the planet's equator could only watch in horror as the monstrosity, hundreds of kilometer's away, opened its mouth and let out a pierce bellow, much like a alarm horn of warning.
Suddenly, dark monoliths, unlike the ones they had found inside the facility, began to form along its chest and all to the ground, somehow landing at their base and forming by some otherwordly metric no one could begin to fathom. It raised its hands and began to decimate the Chalcedon's fleet with ion blasts that blinded all within two hundred kilometers of the beam's lights. Even now, the planet began to crack open like a great maw of magma, as if it were an even harsher beast of the void.
Neil could focus on little of that, trying to keep the Highlander from being ripped apart or caught in the ever volatile orbit. Woods and her crew were in the cargo bay, as was Saxon and Sven. Taya, York, and Junebug sat in the cockpit with Neil, the transhuman clutching his jacket where the disk was located. He seemed far from his usually amused self, now fully intent on getting the forbidden knowledge of the cosmos to the November Sky.
"So, once we reach the November Sky, we're to have our freedom and reward?" Junebug asked.
York raised an eyebrow and looked at her. "Of course. Though first we'll need to extract the data of the Ancient Ones from this file." he said, patting his breast. "T'will change the course of history forever. All will fall before the Imperium, and you will be free from all charges."
Neil banked left, curving an asteroid cluster and spinning the Highlander back into place as he approached the open hanger bay. Despite their previous journey, it really did not sit right with him that the Terrans would gain such a massive increase to their technological power after they had proven time and again to be ill fitted for rule.
Behind them, Savren exploded.
Neil couldn't see it on the back display, as it was brighter than a thousand suns. But he read the energy readings on the output of the explosion, and he knew that unless the November sky had a crack pilot, they wouldn't be able to land on it and have it enter the R.I.P. before they were consumed. The blast radius really was the entire system!
"Orders Captain?" Neil asked.
"We go to the November Sky!" York ordered out of turn.</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil reached for his gun right after Junebug shot York with his pistol, only realizing after the fact that she had his fucking gun. Well, it couldn't be helped. The pilot might not be nearly as well trained in hand to hand as Junebug or Woods, but he had basic training down and was scrappy, and while York was close to superhuman levels of physical capabilities, he had just been shot with a large caliber bullet. Neil spun acrobatically and launched out with both of his feet in a drop kick, hitting York in the chest to add insult to literal injury. The sophisticated man cried out in pain and clutched his chest from the blow that had been struck into the bullet wound.
Neil caught himself with his hands, landing apeishly into a crouch. He just barely dived into the shield in time before the lasbeams and bullets began to ricochet off the void fields. Neil hit the ground in another roll, only to slam into the trunk-like limbs of Saxon, who looked down at him as if he was a particularly large shit he had just stepped in. "Your doing, I imagine." he rumbled, and to Neil it truly did look like he was contemplating on stepping on the lithe pilot. Neil shook his head emphatically.
"Not this time." He assured him with a grin. "Other times, yes. But this time, I didn't shoot first."
The growling continued for a few moments before it fadded off, and then a very human-like sigh escaped his mandibles. The Hexanagallion then began to access the small console within his armor at the wrist, and a small compartment raised up from above his massive hand. Neil heard air being sucked into the strange compartment before it launched its payload; a wrist mounted rocket. It sailed out of the void shield and detonated at the feet of the marine's, killing four and wounding several others.
"Don't stick around too long big guy, we're needing to get the fuck out of here." Neil said, scrambling to his feet and sprinting into the open cargo bay door. Saxon didn't respond, but he retreated nonetheless as he launched a volley of fletchlette rounds into the marines, who were leaping into cover and still firing just in case a few rounds pierced the shield, however unlikely that was. Neil passed Sven, who was simply doing his best to fix the parts of the Highlander that needed patching up.
"I'm glad I don't have to do two things at once like usual." Neil said to himself as he vaulted over a workshop table and slid into the cockpit access corridor. He hit the pilot seat hard and began to set the systems to go, calculating and working furiously. Thank Gideon, Sven had fixed the ship at least well enough to where it wouldn't detonate on impact, but Neil needed to still get things just right because going into the R.I.P. while already into the R.I.P. was probably the most risky thing one wanted to do in a ship.
When he saw that all were aboard, Neil revved the engine up and set the coordinates. The screen of the hanger bay appeared, and he saw Woods checking York on the ground, helping him up. Neil took a moment to watch her, before he pushed the image away and groaned. "Another one bites the dust." he said, and he hit the launch sequence. Within moments, the ship would tear a hole through the fabric of reality at the far end of the hanger and disappear into the void.
Neil felt as if his soul and nervous system were being tugged in two opposite directions, and he screamed as the ship tore through anotherarea of the R.I.P. He didn't even have air to warn the others to strap in. They simply were gone, and flew into the unknown.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The Highlander shuddered out of the RIP gracelessly. Junebug felt the hull torque as the insertion charge dispersed unevenly and she held her breath for long moments until it became clear that the freighter wasn't going to break up entirely. This time at least she hardly noticed the discomfort of dropping out of the RIP.
"Alright someone tell me we aren't all going to starve to death?" she said, her implant transmitting to all receivers that hadn't made a point of blocking her. Currently Junebug was wedged into one of the access crawlspaces, wedged in tight with a nest of wiring conduits and junction boxes. The space was too tight for her helmet so she had borrowed, stolen really, a pair of glasses from Neils tool box. The glasses didn't have the range of inputs her helmet had but they did allow her to link to the Highlander's database and to read basic electronic information from the circuits she observed. She had been in the process of troubleshooting a sort that was preventing the power cells from draining evenly. The problem was that each burnt out chip she found only lead to another burnt out chip, each sequentially fried by the surge when the ship had hit the alien shield.
It had been three days since they fled the November Sky. Exiting a ship already in the RIP had been risky but the Highlander had managed to extract into real space long enough for them to jury rig the power cells and take star sights. The sights only gave them a forty percent likelihood of an accurate fix on their position even with Savran as a reference point. The best they had been able to do was point themselves vaguely in the direction of civilization and jump again before the Terran cruiser could return and snatch them up.
"Well it ain't exactly Gremadine, but I think it's settled," Neil shouted, his voice unaided by communications gear. The thumping beat of his repulsive music echoed up the shaft from the cockpit. SHe had no idea what or where Gremadine was but she took his meaning. They hadn't talked much since they made their escape, they hadn't had time, even with all five of them working they had only just managed to keep the half crippled ship together long enough to take another star sight which suggested a likely settled world and make a last ditch jump. Sayeeda hadn't been kidding, if this world was uninhabited and there was a very real possibility the Highlander would never be able to leave it.
Surprisingly Saxon had found his way into her company more frequently than Neil did. The lizard alien seemed to be making a point of it, though Sayeeda couldn't imagine why. He made a few cryptic comments about her being cold which seemed a positive change from his usual threats against Neils life but the change still left her baffled. Junebug pulled a screwdriver from her belt and worked free the fried chip with a click. She removed a chip from her pouch and held it up in front of her goggles, allowing the computer to confirm it was the right unit for the job before slotting it into place. The chip flashed green as the built in ameteres registered the connection was good.
"Alright," she said, wiping her sweaty face on the shoulder strap off her tank top and then slithering her way back to the access port above the cockpit. With lithe grace she dropped through the port and landed on both feet and one hand just behind the pilot's seat. Neil must have expected the movement because he didn't jump or react other than to make a gesture at the forward view screen. The planet before them was largely arrid, mostly desert except for a few unenthusiastic strips of greenish gray near an unhealthy looking equatorial ocean.
"Sensors show habitation," Taya chimed in from her customary seat.
"Lony says there are even ionization tracks that indicate starship landings, though it doesn't look like they get a ton of visitors." As the girl spoke long curving arcs appeared on the view screen with estimated times of the tracks. The most recent vector was over two weeks old. There didn't seem to Junebug to be any pattern to them other than they all ended in broad canyons that criss crossed the desert.
"Any radio traffic?" she asked Neil.
"This dirtball have a name?"</s>
|
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil opened up the Galaxy map on the display monitor, moving without thinking. The past few days he had barely left the cockpit, living, eat, and breathing keeping the Highlander steady through the R.I.P., even with the automated navigational systems fully functional. That, and the fact that the R.I.P. was usually what pulled you along in the intended direction, not the other way around. He simply had done his best to keep them from being ripped apart or devoured by void beasts.
When the Galaxy map appeared, they looked to be in the outer ring of the Galaxy, in what was often called the 'eastern' section. "Hahn." Neil told the Captain, drawing up the world on the display monitor. "It's called Hahn, and from the looks of it, it's a breeding ground for mercenaries, thieves, and people wanting to get lost. Sounds too good to be true." He said, and there was little indication in his voice on whether or not he was being sarcastic.
"The planet has a desert biome," Lonney said, fully unaware of how redundant the statement was. "32.7% water, high in mineral deposits. Population is two million and eight hundred thousand, with 68% being human or near human. Very little else in known about the planet itself, other than it is often on Terra's 'to conquer' list." Neil snickered. That must mean it had many problematic people but little resources for the Imperium to bother going there.
"Well at least I can get a tan." Neil said, revving the sublight engines forward. "Taking her down Captain..."
The indicator showed the closest port was a settlement at the foot of the vast desert, west of it being a small ocean and east of it a vast mountain range that bladed into the sky. It almost looked like the aftermath of a massive shockwave. Neil suddenly had it in his head to say something to Junebug, opening his mouth...and then closing it. He'd talk to her after they landed. Taya stepped into the cockpit now, wiggling in excitement.
"Gods, I can't wait to set foot on a planet that isn't exploding." She exclaimed.
"You know you'd think that'd be a low bar, but with our luck..."</s>
|
<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil opened up the Galaxy map on the display monitor, moving without thinking. The past few days he had barely left the cockpit, living, eat, and breathing keeping the Highlander steady through the R.I.P., even with the automated navigational systems fully functional. That, and the fact that the R.I.P. was usually what pulled you along in the intended direction, not the other way around. He simply had done his best to keep them from being ripped apart or devoured by void beasts.
When the Galaxy map appeared, they looked to be in the outer ring of the Galaxy, in what was often called the 'eastern' section. "Hahn." Neil told the Captain, drawing up the world on the display monitor. "It's called Hahn, and from the looks of it, it's a breeding ground for mercenaries, thieves, and people wanting to get lost. Sounds too good to be true." He said, and there was little indication in his voice on whether or not he was being sarcastic.
"The planet has a desert biome," Lonney said, fully unaware of how redundant the statement was. "32.7% water, high in mineral deposits. Population is two million and eight hundred thousand, with 68% being human or near human. Very little else in known about the planet itself, other than it is often on Terra's 'to conquer' list." Neil snickered. That must mean it had many problematic people but little resources for the Imperium to bother going there.
"Well at least I can get a tan." Neil said, revving the sublight engines forward. "Taking her down Captain..."
The indicator showed the closest port was a settlement at the foot of the vast desert, west of it being a small ocean and east of it a vast mountain range that bladed into the sky. It almost looked like the aftermath of a massive shockwave. Neil suddenly had it in his head to say something to Junebug, opening his mouth...and then closing it. He'd talk to her after they landed. Taya stepped into the cockpit now, wiggling in excitement.
"Gods, I can't wait to set foot on a planet that isn't exploding." She exclaimed.
"You know you'd think that'd be a low bar, but with our luck..."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Hahn wasn't a world Sayeeda had ever heard of, though that wasn't surprising. According to the navigational chart they were a staggering distance from Saavran, that too was unsurprising, the Terran cruiser was able to brave much stronger currents than the Highlander could have managed. If they had tried to enter the RIP stream themselves, the energy gradient would have ripped them to atoms. Once they were in they had plunged, unguided by the nav computer through the maelstrom of the RIP without any of the normal station holding navigational corrections. Junebug was just as glad to be far from the reach of the Terrans. Whatever bounty had been placed on them had gone up exponentially after they had gunned down York and half a dozen marines, not to mention destroying invaluable data.
The sector they were in was extremely poorly charted. Most worlds were little more than alphanumeric designations with a few keywords attached to them. Breathable atmosphere, fresh water, dangerous biota. Even places that had larger write ups were years out of date and compiled from the records of tramp freighters and free traders rather than anything like a regular courier service. It would take months to work their way back towards the galactic core, although Junebug didn't have any particular reason to do that. When she and Neil had bought the Highlander, she had a vague notion of making a living as a free trader, but beyond that her goals were vague and ephemeral. She was rootless after Andor's Armored had disbanded and adventure in general was more important than any abstract goal.
"Lets hope that people don't take one look at us and decide to put on a Xenos invasion or launch a coup in our honor," Junebug said smiling wryly for what felt like the first time in days. There didn't appear to be any orbital control or landing beacons of any kind. The only transmissions that the Highlander was picking up were low powered radio broadcasts meant for use within the atmosphere. Sayeeda touched a few holographic keys and accessed the navigational data from the atlas. As she suspected, the entry contained the landing coordinates of the last ship that had contributed to the charts, she imported it onto the navigational display and a slow pulsing green bead appeared on the display, at the terminus of one of the older ship tracks. Neil eased the Highlander onto the new course with uncharacteristic care.
As they descended into the atmosphere it became apparent that Hahn wasn't quite as desolate as it appeared from orbit. The deserts were largely stoney rather than sandy and here and there green oasis appeared, ringed with plant life. Some of the swales too sported green fringes of tough looking succulents and twisted looking trees with broad spiny leaves. Here and there vast formations of orangey yellow rock thrust into the sky forming impressive mesa. There were no obvious roads though Junebug thought she spotted plumes of dust which must have been raised by human vehicles.
Their destination was a broad canyon that ran roughly south east. The canyon ran for hundreds of miles down towards the equatorial sea and it varied in width from a few dozen meters at its narrow choke points to several hundred meters at its widest. It was well over a hundred meters deep, making it difficult to view the interior until one was directly over it.The settlement wasn't visible even to sensors until they were within a hundred clicks or so. It was built entirely within the canyon at one of the wider points, with only a few antennae projecting up over the lip. As Neil bought the Highlander into balance over the canyon they could see that the settlement, calling it a city stretched the point, was built up against the walls of the canyon with a broad boulevard that ran down the center of the chasm and twisting side streets meandering back towards the canyon walls. The buildings were of adobe and yellowish sandstone and most of them were low only one or two stories, save at the canyon wall where they grew higher to abutt the rock faces. Most of the buildings had flat roofs that were topped with greenery in roof gardens and the roads were lined with what looked to be Terran date palms. Large dericks were sunk into the central road at intervals and they rocked back and forth before gouting up water like fountains. The path of the canyon must have been drawn by an ancient river that had since vanished underground. In the center of town, surrounded by gardens and fountains were larger building with large domes and minarets that had been gilded with golden metal, though Sayeeda thought it was probably brass rather than pure gold.
To the southern end of the settlement the canyon flared to a width of nearly half a kilometer, several ships, many much the worse for wear, were landed on the dusty stone. Tarps of stone bleached canvas covered stalls and shops or just provided shelter for ships crews that wanted to be off their own vessels. Men and they were almost all men, milled about trading and buying food or other provisions from the vendors, many of which were nothing more than a cart with a canvas shade. There was nothing that even approached a shipyard but there were enough ship components scattered on rugs for inspection that Sayeeda could at least hope they could affect some meaningful repairs.
No one appeared to be particularly concerned by the hovering freighter although several people were pointing up at them as Neil set them gently down in the shade of the canyon wall. The whole crew let out a sigh of relief as they touched down and the engines shut off.
"Looks like there is a welcoming committee," Junebug observed pointing to a group of men that were making their way towards the ship. Like most of the civilians their skin ranged from Junebugs olive to pure ebony. They were dressed in layers of cloth and turbans which was probably meant to be a uniform. Each of the men carried a long spear that ended in a shock rod and they carried a variety of antiquted firearms that seemed to follow no particular pattern. At their head was a paunchy man with drooping mustaches, set off by his bright red turban. There was a gold chased pistol at his hip, though even from this distance it looked more ceremonial than practical.
"Customs inspectors maybe?" Taya asked uncertainty. Junebug shrugged her shoulders. The newcomers looked bored rather than threatening which meant they probably didn't anticipate trouble.
"Maybe," she said noncommittally, eliciting a hissing grunt from Saxon.
"Lets get our party clothes on and go out and say hello."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil unstrapped his safety harness and stretched, needing to loosen his limbs to better handle walking. He didn't remember the last time he had gotten up that wasn't for using the lavatory. There were a few audible 'cracks' as he stretched, then as he went into the cargo bay he did a quick backflip to prove to himself nothing was stuck or a muscle wasn't tight. "Ah man, honestly even if they do open fire, at least I'll die outside where I can breathe." he said.
His fears were not founded, thankfully. Junebug had told Saxon and Sven to remain inside initially, to keep the newcomers from becoming too intimidated. Saxon seemed a bit annoyed, but Sven merely said nothing, continuing to tinker with various wires that spread along the corridors of the Highlander. Neil knew Sven knew his stuff, but he still had the smallest inkling of suspicion on what exactly he was doing with Neil's Junebug's ship.
They walked out in standard formation. Junebug front and center, with Taya flanking her on the left and Neil taking the right, hand cannon in easy reach behind his back and his customary smirk on his face. The wind blew lightly, and Neil had a feeling it would be far stronger outside of the canyon 'city'. It was a half a dozen people that greeted them, with two wearing helms and the rest with their faces concealed by cloth, until the middle one opened his to reveal a gangly face with sharp cheekbones and a nose to match.
"So, I will not pretend that most make appointments to enter our fair settlement. But still, I must beg the question on why you are here..." he said, his voice heavily accented. The man showed his teeth with his dead smile.
"To trade and repair our ship." Junebug said, her tone neutral. "Ran into some trouble in the middle rim and needed to make a quick jump. Ended up here. Is our business allowed?" Her voice implied that she expected to be accomadated, and within moments she saw she wasn't wrong. He smiled again, this time genuinely.
"Of course, of course. One cannot ever be too careful, you see? It is customary we approach ships in tis way, to show we are not to be bothered with politics or bribery. But traders? Of course, yes. Depending on what you have, you may find yourself a good housing complex here! We have a few vacancies as of late. Some of our fellows have decided to brave the Sea of Serpents and the Dragani Desert. None come back from either, generally."
The man whispered. "Jumbala!" to a subordinate. One of the ebony skinned men approached, a package in his arms. Neil looked between his Captain and the package, and he stepped forward to touch the thing lightly. "Huh..." Junebug shared a look with him, and opened the plain brown paper to reveal...a large pastry.
"A welcome gift!" the man cried.
Junebug didn't know what to make of it, and truth be told neither did Taya. Neil spoke for them.
"Cool." he said. "By the way, if people never really come back from the sea or the desert, why did they leave?"
The man waved a hand dismissively. "Old tales of riches. Simple common talk and rumor."</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"If it's so dangerous, why do people keep looking for the treasure?" Neil asked Amir before the man could depart. He spun and chortled at the question, holding his plump belly much akin to a beached seal. "Oh! The Treasure is likely real enough. But it lies across the desert of Rimbala, where the Dune Serpents dwell. You cannot find it in a space ship, no. Rumor says it lies in canyons of rock and obsidian, and even greater dangers lurk there!"
"Why do you say it's real?" Taya asked, eyes round as saucers, her hands curled into fists of excitement, pressing to her lips as she looked to the man.
"Oh, Hahn was founded by thieves!" He exclaimed. "The story goes that the famous thief Hutan Shah stole a treasure ship from the Imperium centuries ago and crashed here, though he was taken and devoured by the denizens of the Rimbala crags. Ever since, men and Xenos have come to look for it. But they all die, yes they do! Trade is far safer and more lucrative, anyway. Why go treasure seeking when you can make credits here and sit on your butt, eh?"
"Maybe we're just adrenaline junkies." Neil said, and though Amir laughed, Junebug and Taya could tell Neil was telling the truth. "Amir, I would like to find a place to stay in the city. Could you help me with that?" Neil asked, and to his surprised Junebug stepped forward and said she would join him, a look in her eye that showed she was spoiling for something rough no matter what that meant.
"Oh yes, my friends! Go and find my contact Salim Daleeb in the center of town. You cannot miss him. He is the one with the pink turban. Housing, maps, food, delectable music or company. He will explain everything." Amir said, giving a big smile and waving them off with a friendly gesture. That answer satisfied Neil.
"I think I'll stay with the ship." Taya said, drawing confused looks from the other two. Neil furrowed his brow. "I thought you were scared of Saxon." he said. She nodded. "I am, but less so now that I know all he wants to kill is you." The look on Neil's face was beyond humorous to Taya, and she laughed. "Also, I have Lonney there and I can watch the ship and keep it locked. You guys don't get into too much trouble."
Junebug grinned and Neil looked unconvinced at their ability to follow that advice.
---
"Yes yes, what you need, Salim Daleeb got! Because Salim Daleeb is the greatest merchant in the quadrant, I do be do, be he!" the extravagantly dressed man exclaimed, his Pink turban like a beacon amid the crowd, even with how short the man was. His vest was bright crimson and blue, and when he smiled, they could see every other tooth was made of either gold or ivory. "Special sale today! Maps, maps, map! Come and get the maps of the Rimbala desert!"
Neil didn't know why the man was acting as if he had a crowd. Only he and Junebug were there, the woman still on edge and looking as if she wanted to shoot him or make trouble. Neil raised an eyebrow, nodding as if to exude 'why not' and he said. "Sure, we'll take a map. That and we need a room."
"A room? Travelers yes? Supplies do you need?" he said, his interest twinkling in his mad eyes. He smiled widely, looking the two up and down like a jackal surveying the carrion. "What of parts for a ship, or do you need a new one? A two bath or one bath, two beds or one? Will you wish the service of a eunech slave or shall I-"
Junebug grabbed the man by the throat, shutting off his tirade and lifting him up to her height, her eyes boring into his with barely suppressed energy. He grabbed at her wrist, unable to properly speak. She gave a smile that showed her teeth. "Will you allow us to speak?" she asked him. He nodded hurriedly, as energetic in his silence as he was in his babbling. On the bright side, after that show of force they had very little trouble in haggling with him, and he wished to be done with them by the end, so low were the prices that were now set. The map had been uploaded to the Highlander before the sun had set.
Down three dusty roads, past carts being moved by unknown, horned beasts of burden that looked like a spliced crossbreed between a large lizard and an oxen, and into an alleyway with dried blood on the wall, smeared and scattered like the wound of a slug autogun shot where the exit wound was far larger than the entrance one. Two doors down was the apartment that they apparently had for the next few says. The door looked simple enough, thin wood with various cuts across it, attached to a wall of hardened clay and mortar.
Inside, it looked far cozier than what they had expected. It was no Palace, but the red carpet on the floor was quite soft, with a comfortable bed in the main bedroom and a guestroom across the hall. The living quarters held a stocked kitchen, though the food was likely very bland and the water less than filtered. There was even a run down, archaic looking console that Neil knew how to handle, and could even contact the Highlander in case the need arose.
Junebug still looked fired up, her fists clenching and unclenching. "No trouble all day." Junebug sighed. Neil looked at her, and he realized he needed to let out some energy too. He suddenly pushed her. "You are really tense." He laughed, after he had placed his items down. "You know we haven't tussled since Aiden's." he said, and he leapt back, lifting his fist in a guard position, ducking and weaving to further emphasize the point. "Yeah?" The room was far less stuffy than the Highlander, and the carpet was still noticeably very soft. "No?"
He stopped. "Wait...was it Aidens?"</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug laughed and swatted at Neil half heartedly. The pilot danced back evading the blow without effort and continuing to duck and weave dramatically. She crossed to a small side board of hand carved rosewood. The piece was very impressive, clearly old and hand carved, it would have fetched a fine price on more civilized worlds where art had more value than the merely utilitarian. She opened the cabinet and lifted out a dark green bottle with a long neck and a spherical bulb for a bottom. She pulled the cork and sniffed it, it was sharp, acrid and clearly alcoholic. She tossed the bottle to Neil who snagged it from the air with characteristic grace, then retrieve a second bottle, this one squarish with a glass stopper and took a long drink from the neck. The bottles were sufficiently fancy that she could at least hope they didn't turn out to be furniture polish.
The afternoon was beginning to fade to evening and the first of Hahn's three moons was rising in the west. The heat, baked into the rocks by the days sun, had yet to fade though a cool breeze was blowing now that made it seem ten degrees cooler. She started out of the elaborately arched window, watching the crowds flow back and forth, the locals seemed to be heading towards evening meals and the spacers were as chaotic as ever. She wanted another cigar even though that meant spending a cycle in the medicomp to repair her lung capacity. Perhaps once it was full dark they would go out and see what they could find.
"A lot of shit went down," she said forthrightly turning to look at Neil who had ceased capering and was sniffing suspiciously at his own bottle.
"You have yet to tell me the story with Saxon and Sven, and we should figure out what we are going to do with them." Junebug didn't doubt that they could abandon the pair on Hahn when they were ready to go but she wasn't sure what Neil wanted to do.
"We have repairs to make on the ship and we have almost no money," Junebug went on. She wasn't exactly worried about that, people with weapons and the will to use them seldom went hungry, but it was something to think about.
"Then there are the Terrans and everything that happened with that," she deliberately didn't mention Woods or the fact that they probably had a massive bounty on their heads. She dimly regretted not launching a couple of torpedos inside the hangar of the November Sky, but there hadn't been time to think about it at the time.
"I…" she trailed off, uncertain of how to proceed, then took a drink and forged ahead.
"I ran myself through the medicomp shortly after we got away, my cortisol and epinephrine is way up and i've added muscle mass. My synapses are ten percent above the last scan I had before Dar'mond too. I think the Terrans did something to me while I was in their med bay but the medicomp doesn't know what. I feel hyped up, like all the fucking time." That wasn't the only thing, her emotional control wasn't as sharp as she would like, but there was no reason to worry Neil more than she had too. Shaking her head, she took another swallow of the liquor. It was way too sweet, as seemed to be the custom, maybe they could get some decent booze when they went out also.
"Goddess don't look at me like I'm dying, I just want to tear someone's head off slightly more than usual," she said at the concerned look on Neil's face. Outside came a few scattered cracks of gunfire, though it sounded more like the disorganized fun of a bunch of people with firearms than anything to worry about. Sayeeda made a dismissive gesture with the neck of her bottle.
"Staff meeting alright, we need to get our heads on right and figure out what the fuck we are doing here."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
After Neil had designated that the bottle was not filled with cleaner, he took a few good swigs and decided that the 'balls deep' approach was the way to go. He was not in the mood for being anything but blunt when it came to himself or his wants at the moment, so he simply sat down and drank to his hearts content. Though as he listened to Junebug, he did grow to worry. Apparently it was written clear as day on his face and he chuckled in embarrassment.
"As long as you're ok, and you're not bullshitting to get out of it." he said, pointing a finger at her. "Though you do look a little younger. And you're usually pretty sexy but right now you look sexy as hell. Also I'm going to change the subject now."
"By what you mean with Saxon and Sven, you mean when you were knocked out?" Neil asked. He bit his tongue, remembering that he had announced to himself that he had romantic feelings for Sayeeda, thinking she was dying and wondering why he chose to stay rather than run away from his problems like he often did. He gulped down the last bit of the bottle of...whatever this drink was and he tossed the empty bottle out the window to shatter into the alleyway. It had dried blood and rocks, what was some glass?
"I caught you in the MH-350 before you hit the ground and booked it out of the fight. I went down two alleys, trying to be as careful as I could be with you but...I might have bruised your ribs a bit more." he was sitting forward now, elbows on his knees and hands on his face, rubbing it. "You were out like a light so I put you in the cockpit and I killed our pursuers a bit less gracefully than I usually do. I found Sven and Saxon at the rendezvous point."
"Didn't I get a medi pack? I vaguely remember that." Sayeeda replied.
"Yeah, Saxon gave it to you." Neil said, yawning. She looked at him incredulously, obviously confused on why the Xenos would help her way back then when he was basically still a foe. Neil looked at Junebug and paused. "I um..." he began, trying to find the words. "He knew that the only way I'd move was if you were ok enough to do so too."
He shrugged, leaning back and looking away to defuse the moment. "And that was when Taya called us and told us about the Terrans and, well, you have the rest."
"So," he began, trying to change the subject yet again. By the Gods this woman could shake his entire foundation with only a look. "I say we have one of three options for what we're doing tonight." He still hadn't looked back at her. "We can either steal for money, go treasure hunting, or break the Highlander apart for parts but I'm not for the last option, and I'm thinking you aren't either. So I guess we'll need to brave the dangers of whatever-the-fuck."</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil had to drink some more to calm his nerves. "I can;t believe you just said all that shit." he muttered to himself after Junebug had left. He poured the bottle into half a glass and chugged it, placing it down on the standing table with a 'clap.' "What were you thinking? You know she wasn't going to do anything with Saxon." He felt a very unnerving chill run up his spine and he visibly shuddered at the very mental image.
"Fuck, I hate that talking dinosaur." he admitted, clenching his fist. He closed his eyes and let himself calm down for a minute, playing the scene of him professing feelings to Sayeeda in his head over and over, realizing how stupid he was. He needed to make it right and tell her he was bullshitting. They would both know he wasn't, but he was professional enough to pretend until the problem went away. It's what he had been doing, after all!
A minute after Junebug left, he sighed and followed after her, trying to catch up with a jog as he made it into the central area of town. He could barely see the top of her hair, gliding into an alleyway across the way. He had always been nimble and quiet, and most people wouldn't understand how well someone could both run, and dodge people, while being silent at the same time. He used his skill and made his way through the crowd, leaping off concrete surfaces like the side of the central fountain and slipping through groups of people to make it to where Junebug was.
She was gone...
Neil looked every which way, not understanding where she could be. Until he heard hushed voices, and the telltale sound of dragging feet down another few alleyways. Neil sprinted, taking his gun out. He was tipsy but still crisp enough to shoot a fly out of the air if he needed to. He arrived at the alley she had been taken in only moments too late, seeing her being carried into the door of a nondescript structure by a street tough and a military looking man who led him.
"What in the fuck?" he breathed, lifting his gun. He squinted, trying to figure out what was going on. He needed another way in...</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug had taken more blows to the head in her career than most and either hard experience, or her recent Terran enhancements bought her back to consciousness more awake and alert than might otherwise have been the case. She kept her eyes closed shaming unconsciousness until she could figure out just what the hell was going on. A man was carrying her and her hands had been bound behind her back, likely with binders of improvised plastic tie downs judging by the way the bit into her wrist.
"I swear I do not know her!" the turbaned official was bleating, "she is a starship captain, that is all, I did not hire her!" They were ascending a steep set of stairs, twisting up the spiral every few feet or so.
"If you are trying to double cross me, Acmed, I swear by the suns I will decorate the city with your entrails." The voice was unfamiliar to Sayeeda but gravelly and authoritative. She peered through slitted eyes, though all she saw was the back of a staircase, her head throbbed painfully but the fog of booze was gone, burned off by the adrenaline that pumped through her.
"We should kill her, just to be safe," the man carrying her declared in an oily accent that Junebug thought was probably local. She tried not to tense but she was ready to kick off the wall and try to break the man's neck while they tumbled down the stairs rather than be executed without a fight.
"It would raise suspicion, plus look at her, she will fetch a pretty price in the slave market at Dal Shem," the leader replied. They passed through a door and the hot desert wind told her that they were on the roof of the building. Through slitted eyes she could see a small rooftop garden. An aircar sat parked in the center of a paved square, presumably provided for the purpose. It was an industrial model without frills and open topped. Without ceremony she was slung into the back seat and the security harness was locked around her chest. If her hands were free it would have been simple to release, but bound as she was it was as secure as anything her captors might have used. Both men climbed into the car.
"You have twelve hours to get me what I want," the leader called to the bureaucrat, Achmed she presumed. The air cars fans spun to life.
"After that you can discuss things with the Pasha, I'm sure his torturers will believe your side of the story."
With that the fans roared to full power and the aircar lifted away into the hot desert night.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
As Neil had rounded the house in his mad search to get in, he was lucky enough to see them exited above his level still carrying a limp Junebug. One looked to be a local and the others... He didn't care, he just needed to rescue her. At that thought he stopped, realizing how different this was. Usually she wasn't the one that ever needed rescuing. It was weird. But everyone was vulnerable once or twice in their lives.
Neil followed behind the men like a shadow, always too far behind to get in a shot that he couldn't make sure wouldn't hit Sayeeda. His adrenaline was pumping from his earlier confession and now this warped scenario he was certain the Gods had conjured up just to mess with him further. He vaulted a sandstone fence and entered the garden where the men placed Sayeeda into a readied aircar. "Oh fuck, no no no!" he said to himself, silently as he could.
As the vehicle sped away, Neil nearly took a shot at the vehicle. But he realized it would give away the fact someone was planning on chasing them. He simply prayed she was kept alive. "Taya" he breathed into the comm. There was slight static until her tired voice appeared. "Hmmmwhat?" Neil expected that he might have woken her. He didn't have time to apologize at the moment. "Taya I-..." he stopped.
"Scan the city. I need you to tell me where Sven is."
"Scan? How do I do that?"
"You go into the cockpit and pull the third lever on the left, and then a set of commands will pick up on the display. Choose the third option, and then turn on the sublight engines for a minute. You'll see energy signatures on the radar. Understand?" he asked her. He could hear her shuffling in the background, moving to the cockpit. "Yeah, I got you. Where's Junebug?"
"She's sleeping." Neil said, and he made a ridiculious gesture and then pressed his fingers into his face, trying to convince himself that he did the right thing by not completely lying to her. He knew the Highlander didn't fly well at the moment and wouldn't be able to get to her, and he couldn't bear to look at that 4 faced Xenos at the moment. But if Sven could be located, he would know all of the dives in the town already, or would be able to at least tell Neil where he could get an aircar. He was so very glad he had installed the energy tracker into the Highlander. Any cyborg that matched Sven's signature would be found in moments.
"...Uh, it shows there's something in subsector 14 on the radar."
Neil breathed a sigh of relief. "Ok good, that's less than half a click from here. Thank you Taya."
"Nothing, everything is fine." Neil said quickly and turned the comm off. He stuffed the comm into his pocket so he wouldn't hear anything else in case she called back. There was no need to worry her when Neil had every intention of finding these fuckers and making them pay, after making sure Junebug was safe. Honestly, he felt worse for the guys who took her. Likely they'd be dead and she would be armed by the time he found them.
Still, he wasn't about to take chances and vaulted out of the garden area and into the streets, running through the alleys and streetways, trying to find the building or area where Sven was. "Come on, you're not that hard to lose" Neil said, vividly remembering the man's otherworldly height and wild, nordic hair and beard. Neil went with his instincts and stuck to the alleyways, and he was rewarded for his efforts when he found the cyborg after fifteen minutes of frantic search.
"Ew," were the first words out of his mouth, rather than the "I need help" because as he turned the corner, he found the cold man working upon someone's opened skull, the corpse or body...Neil could not begin to know if the man was alive, was upon a rundown, dark chair that was hyked up to its tallest measurement at the base of the chair. Sven did not even look Neil's way, simply grabbing another cruel-looking tool out of his jacket. "What do you want?" Sven asked.
"Who is that?"
"A customer."
Neil shuddered a second time, then realized he didn't have much more time to dwaddle. "I need an aircar or a hoverbike. Anything mechanical even, but Junebug's been taken. I need one now." Sven lightly placed a small, purified motherboard chip into the man's skull, the tiny pincers along its bottom sparking with electricity.
"The building behind me." Sven said, gravelly voice as unnerving as ever, even with good news. "The second floor, there is transportation for you." He began to hammer something into the local man's inner skull with surgical precision, and the body's limbs jerked at every knock. Neil had to wonder what he was doing to the man, and just what kind of transportation could be above the ground floor.
Neil backed up and began to ready himself to leap up there, until he stopped. "Oh, don't tell anyone I told you she's in trouble, ok?"
Sven looked at him for the first time. "Do I look like I care?"
"...good point." Neil replied, before eyeing the wall and sprinting at it, pressing his right foot to it and kicking off to the mirroring wall, kicking off once more to grabbing the bottom part of the upper window. He was lucky this town was rundown or he'd have to break a window. Inside looked to be a native, 3rd world office where there was a scattered selection of more advanced equipment mingling with lesser items local to the planet.
Beside the plasma pistol, there was his transportation on the dirt smudged desk. He picked up the item. A flat piece of hardened plasteel with a miniaturized motor beneath it, and gravel-like protrusions to give traction to the rider's feet. Well, it was better than nothing.
"I have not flown in a hoverboard in years."</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The desert streaked by below them, the rock and sand seeming to glow gold under the bright moonlight. No one spoke so Sayeeda, figuring her ruse would gain her no more information, opened her eyes.
"Where am I? Who are you?" she asked, making a show of tugging at her bonds. The turbaned man was gone, presumably off to do whatever task these men were compelling him to attempt. The city was already vanishing over the horizon. As far as she knew Neil was still back at their rented lodgings, unaware of what had transpired. The armored man, clearly an off worlder, sat beside her, while the local man was in the driver's seat head of them, separated by a sheet of transparent plastic on a metal frame. His skin was bronze from the sun though he had probably been born a paler shade, his head was bald with the recent application of a razor and he kept a goatee that was beginning to get out of control. It gave his already lean head an almost gaunt look. He wore a vest of woven carbon fibre which Junebug translated as 'light infantry' but which she knew probably just meant he was in a dangerous line of work. As kidnapping her certainly was.
"My name is Canek,'' he said pleasantly, "and you are in an air car with me miss…"
"I am Captain Cyckali, what the fuck am I doing here?" Canek relaxed slightly at the words as though she had passed some test she hadn't been aware off.
"Well Captain, you saw me conducting some sensitive business with the Pasha's customs inspector. Given that man was about to soil himself before you showed up, I had to reassure him that you weren't going to be a problem." The man was infuriatingly calm, Junebug tugged at her restraints but they had done a professional job, she wasn't going to get loose of them easily.
"Alright, so I'm not a problem, any chance of dropping me back at my ship? I really don't know or care about anything you have to talk with a customs inspector about."
Canek looked regretful but shook his head.
"Things are very sensitive right now," he said with a glance back towards the fading lights of the canyon city.
"I heard some talk of selling me as a slave," she said, narrowing her eyes.
"Ah not as unconscious as you made out, smart," Canek said with a sharks smile.
"Well I could probably move you I suppose, your pretty enough but your a little old for a harem or a brothel, plus you look like the sort that would be more trouble than they are worth. I don't care if you slit the throat of some fat merchant but who wants the trouble getting back to them?"
"Well you didn't kill me so you must have something in mind,"Sayeeda said arching an eyerow. The air car was circling now, there was a small canyon, barely a fissure in the rocky landscape, the vehicle began to drop towards it. They passed within 30 feet of the rock to where it opened out into a large cave. Inside of which men and women were moving around, some of them servicing vehicles, others operating modern communications equipment. There were several light attack vehicles and a heavier hovertank concealed by tarps and tie down. Canek pulled a knife from his belt and held it up before him. After a moment he sliced through her bonds.
"Well Captain, if you can keep your mouth shut for a few days, I thought I'd offer you a job."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil had made his way out of the smaller alleyways of the city easily enough, traversing through the crowds with a few requisitioned items. He wished it was sunny so he could place on these archaic sunglasses, but alas he'd have to wait until later. That wasn't the important part at the moment anyway.
Neil vaulted over a small sandstone wall, one of the few that stood between him and the open desert. Briefly as he made his way through what he presumed to be people's backyards and private areas, he wondered if he should care that a few of the locals might possibly see a foreign young man trying to make it to the reputably dangerous desert as fast as he could, but he realized he didn't really care. On the last patch of wall he heard an indecipherable call that had to be someone complaining that he was on their property. He paid that no mind as well and simply made it to the sands.
"Ok, haven't done this in awhile." he said, placing the hoverboard on the ground and stepping onto it, aligning his feet just right to fit into the placement grooves. "Alright, now I just need to..." He turned the power on, revving the engine up to 350 pounds of anti-grav pressure upon the sand, and stood up as the board began to hover. He immediately realized he was about to fall backwards and slam into the sand, but the nimble pilot caught himself.
"Yeah that's right bitch." he said, stroking his ego by shit talking an inanimate object that he needed far more than it needed him.
A subtle adjustment of the position of his hips and knees, and the board began to move forward as if riding a wave of air, picking up speed exponentially as Neil leaned forward, hands out and flat to keep himself balanced. If this was an enclosed area, he would be more careful, but the only thing he needed to watch out for here was the rolling dunes that were on the horizon. The ground was relatively flat, and it only took him a short amount of time to pick up the trail of the aircar.
Minutes later, he found large collection of boulders that reached into the sky like a primitive sky scraper or mound, though judging by the way the earth curved inward, there must have been an entrance that led underground. He couldn't see the ripples of sand from the aircar's wake any longer either. "This must be the place." he said, leaning down to shut off the hoverboard. He felt weighted once more, though with a 180* maneuver he spun and landed deftly.
The last thing he expected to see when he peeked in from the dark of the night was Junebug speaking to the one who kidnapped her, unbound. That...made no sense. A part of him wanted to step out now and start firing, but he held himself in check. His curiosity always getting the better of him.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda peered around at the preparations that were underway. It was a small force but larger than any organized unit she had yet seen on Hahn. Certainly it had more firepower. Her interest was drawn naturally to the fighting vehicles and she ached to give them a once over. Instead she folded her arms across her chest. The proximity to military hardware made her miss her armor at a subconscious level.
"So you are just offering jobs to random people who stumble into alleys?" she asked skeptically. Canek shook his head and tapped her shoulder.
"Well I can still kill you or sell you into slavery if you prefer, but no I recognise the tatoo." Junebug glanced unconsciously to her right shoulder where three owls were depicted taking flight. The central bird was darker with the others and its eyes were slightly almond shaped like Junebug's own. The other owls were white and snowy grey.
"I met a woman who had one just like it, well hers had the white owl centrally located," Canek went on, smiling slightly at Junebug's evident shock.
"Kyra Ren she called herself, she was running a cavalry squadron on Payson's world, pulled me out of a few tight spots." Sayeeda stared into nothingness for a moment assailed by sudden images of the past. Kyra with her mouth open in a scream as she hosed a Shemite position with her plasma cannon. Kyra her blond locks trailing smoke as she stumbled out of her burning vehicle to catch Junebug's hand. The sound of her laugh as she tossed her last florin into the pot in some card game.
"She told me the story one night when she had too much to drink," Canek's voice drew her back to the present.
"Said there were three of you who had the same tat, the Owls of Minerva she said it was, whatever the fuck that means," Canek paused looking a little concerned.
"Hey you still with me?" he asked. Junebug nodded her head, shaking of the reverie with obvious effort.
"So I figure that even if your hauling freight now you know how to handle yourself. How about it?" he reached out his hand as if to shake hers.
Above on the ridgeline Neil heard a soft clink of metal on stone. Glancing across the opening he could see the dark shapes of men wrapped in the cloth of desert nomads as the crept along the slight depressions worn in the rock by centuries of wind and blown grit. All of the men carried rifles and some had heavier weapons, shoulder mounted rockets or single discharge plasma lances, slong over their backs. They were focused on the opening in the rock and hadn't spotted the pilot. There were a score or more of them, each moving with the stealth and care of a man born to it.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil's complete confusion on the strange meeting between Sayeeda and Canek was interrupted by the contingent of dervishes that waded across the endless expanse of sand without a word. It was only the fact that Neil had been holding his breath that he could hear them coming. Immediately, he steeled himself and did not move an inch, many years playing the role of thief had trained him that people noticed things with their peripherals more than anything. He could be standing 7 feet from them, and if he did not move and fit in only moderately well with the environment, they would be none the wiser.
Initially Neil thought the newcomers were reinforcements. A small army coming to bolster the army that Canek commanded. But their movements, or the ones that Neil could see out of the corner of his eye, were those of the hunter, not the trusted ally. Gideon be damned, he wished he had brought grenades. His eyes began scanning the surroundings he could work with. The pilot lay atop one of the many boulders that framed the entrance of the base. To his right were more of the same. Crags and boulders jutting out of the rising landscape. Behind him were the dunes of sand, and to his left and front, the base.
The nomads seemed to nearing the completion of their preparations, cocking rifles and fanning out in skirmish formation, the heavy weapons now forming at the center for maximum impact on the unsuspecting base. Neil almost didnt move, but he couldn't leave Sayeeda here. "The things I do for this woman," he breathed, his eyes closed to steel himself for what he was about to go. "Gideon protect me..."
He spun, grabbing his heavy caliber pistol and cocking it in one smooth action, hitting one of the cloaked assassin's in the chest. One who specifically held a rocket launcher. Neil didn't stop, firing into the man until his fourth bullet hit home where he intended it to, and the ordinance loaded within the launcher exploded, igniting the dying man before shattering and sending fire and shrapnel into half a dozen of his fellows.
Neil didn't hesitate, spinning and yanking himself over the crest of the boulder he was on to free fall over a dozen feet into the entrance of the base, tucking in a roll to negate most of the pressure but feeling as if he'd been kicked by Junebug after he made it to his feet. "Get down!" he told them, grabbing Junebug's arm and leaping to the side. Ever quick, Junebug rolled with him and hunkered down at the flank of the rocks as the bullets and lasbolts began to fly.
"Thanks" She told him, and he handed her the plasma gun he had found. "How did you get here?"
"Sven helped. We need to get the hell out of here. C'mon, behind these crates." He whispered, leading her to run in a crouch further within the base as the projectiles were unloaded at the two forces. A small aircar exploded from a launched grenade. He grabbed the hoverboard from his back and held it. "I can get us both out on this if you hold on."
"You have to be kidding me."</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil didn't make a sound, but Junebug would have probably laughed when Neil's eyes widened in incredulity. If she was too old and heavy, then he would have been. Junebug looked younger and more supple than when he'd met her. "Tough crowd" was all he said into the comm, and on his earpiece he heard a door closing on her end before the transmission cut out until it would pick up her next words. He shook his head and turned the scope of his rifle to overlook the surrounding area.
The compound was located at the end of a short block, with a relatively wide open space for about 280 degrees other than its back being connected to a wall, that would in turn connect to another smaller compound. Other than that, there was a street between it and virtually every other building or hiding place. Dispensers and locals milled about across the street, but they all kept a wide berth. The building was made to look nondescript, but they all knew or felt the barrels of the guns and the weight of the wealth that inhabited the place.
"Eeeehhh, let's see...local, local, local, whore, local, Sven...wait what." He said, his retical zooming in to see Sven standing under the canopy of a tarp above the sidewalk, looking very blended in, as if he had always lived here, save for the fairer skin and blue eyes. He was eating some local cuisine that had the look of a yellow fruit that had exploded outward, and looking at the compound for a reason Neil couldn't fathom. Neil followed his eyes, and the retical moved left until it landed upon an AirV, a military aircar. One of four that moved down the street, armored plating and gauss turrets manned by hard men, wearing flak armor and leather satchels strapped horizontally over their chests.
They stopped in front of the compound.
Even in a hopeful scenario where they were allies of the Pasha, which was likely as they hadn't opened fired on the building, it would still be added security that Junebug would have to deal with. Neil patched her in. "Hey, Captain. You have...a dozen armed men heading inside where you are. I can't tell if they're customers or guards, but either way, be careful."
Neil wished he could fire on them and thin the herd. He didn't have the luxury of a suppressor. One shot they would know there was a shooter. Second shot they would ascertain his direction. Third shot, they would see the muzzle flash and know right where he was. He couldn't help at the moment and it was bothering him more than he would have liked.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebugs stomach lurched the way it always did right before things really dropped in the pot. A number of possible scenarios ran through her mind at once, none of them good. She quickly finished pulling on the outfit that she found in the chambers she had been assigned. A gauzy band of gossamer silk, that wrapped around her chest, and a knee length skirt of similar material that was girdled by a belt of woven gold thread clenched with a ruby. The garments didn't provide much in the way of modesty but they at least provided the psychological comfort that clothing of any kind affords.
"Taya can you reach Sven on any net you have set up?" she asked.
"Break. Neil better gear me up." Across the street Neil unlimbered an awkward looking plastic tube. He hefted it to his shoulder and pushed the rude trigger switch that he had installed earlier. There was an audible chuff of compressed air as it launched its payload across the street, arcing only a little faster than a man could through to land in the courtyard where it bounced end over end before coming to rest against a decorative wall. Junebug scooped it up and tore the packing tape that secured it, inside was a towel in which had been wrapped a small pistol, a datapad and some rudimentary intrusion kit. She tucked the small pistol into the girdle bought the datapad live, adding its visual capacity.
"No… ummm I mean negative, I can't reach him," Taya responded a moment later.
"I cant find him anywhere," she said a moment later.
"Oh we know where he is," Junebug responded.
"Break. Neil, unless I'm very much mistaken Sven is about to launch a coup…" It was also possible that it was a robbery, though very much of the smash first grab later variety, that didn't really seem like Sven's style. It hardly mattered at the moment. An automatic weapon opened up as one of the guards Sven hadn't managed to bribe opened fire. A moment later the gauss cannons on the air cars ripped the night with a sleet of iridium pellets, blowing apart men in the watchtowers and tearing guards of the parapet in showers of bloody gristle.
Screaming harem girls rushed from the courtyard in various states of undress. Junebug had a moment to contemplate that most of them were younger and softer than she was before a grenade bounced into the courtyard. Junebug kicked the small golf ball sized bomb into one of the empty rooms and shoved the nearest girl to the floor a second before the glass fiber shrapnel blasted from the room, though robbed of its lethal force several women screamed. A moment later a door burst open and a pair of armored mercenaries with assault rifles rushed into the mass of women. Sayeeda's little pistol cracked twice snapping the lead gunman's head back in a spray of blood and brains. The second man, lucky but good also, dived behind one of the carven wooden panels. Junebug spat a sulfurous oath and fired into the heavy teak but succeeded only in spraying splinters with the small calibre gun. The wood cratered inward and the man behind it flopped bonelessly to the ground as Neil took him out from his elevated position, the report of the heavy weapon lost in the din. Sayeeda blew a lock of hair out of her face.
"Taya, seal the ship," she commanded, pressing the release stud to drop the half empty clip to the mosaic floor and replacing it with her one and only reload.
"You got it," came back along with the sound of the Highlanders emergency hatches slamming shut. Hopefully that wasn't necessary but taking unnecessary chances was a good way to get your people killed. She belated wondered if Saxon were on the ship and what role, if any, he was playing in all this. It was too late to worry about it and probably beyond Taya's power to eject the Hex from the ship if it became an issue
She was alone in the courtyard now, the rest of the harem having scattered back to the dubious safety of their quarters. Blood ran down an incline not apparent to the naked eye from the merc Neil's shot had all but decapitated. Sven's men, if that was what was going on, weren't necessarily their enemies, but experience taught Junebug that you shot first and asked questions only if you absolutely had to when you were writing the after action report. The fact that Sven had not tried to hire them was suggestive, as was the fact he had obviously gone to some length to be incommunicado but that could just be a determination not to let Neil fuck up his latest venture. What was important now was that she get to the library and get the data the needed before the whole place went up in proverbial, and perhaps literal, flames.
"This is going to get really messy Junebug," Neil said, his transmission stepping on something Taya had been about to say by virtue of his seniority. Sayeeda scooped up the fallen mercenaries weapon and thrust the pistol into the girdle before taking a bandolier of reload and looping it over her shoulder.
"You are telling me," she agreed, imagining how she appeared in the silks with the brutal looking rifle and the bandolier.
"I already look completely ridiculous."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil grabbed the rifle and his pack and stepped over the ledge, sliding down the incline of the thatched roof and making it to the clay caked storm drain that had not been in use for probably decades. His feet hit the drain, and surely enough the thing broke on its hinges, sending it whipping down like a vine. One that Neil promptly grabbed and was flung down in, letting go at the closest point to the ground, catching himself heavily on his feet.
Men and woman screamed, at least a dozen stream past him every few seconds going any which way they could to get away from the sudden carnage of the armed convoy. One man on a turret was strafing the crowd with lasbolts, and though Neil couldn't see his face behind his fabric enwrapped lower face, he had the feeling the insurgent had a sick sense of amusement ending the lives of the civilians as they scattered before him. It was on instinct, as Neil didn't have time to look down the scope of his rifle while he approached, but he didn't need to. It was a lucky shot, blowing the turret man's left shoulder clean off and leaving a hole the size of a fist. His left arm drooped, flinging helplessly as he began to scream in terror. Neil ignored him and slid over the hood of the AirV to make it to the entrance.
Inside was hardly better, as small arms of the slug and laser variety discharged among the constricting dust cloud. He knew it was crazy, even for him, but he didn't slow as he walked in. Likely the men didn't expect an enemy from behind, so figures in his peripheral vision simply didn't look at him. It made his job easier, and he waded through the smog, looking for any harem girl that might be simply killing a mercenary, because that would likely be Junebug.
The first girl he found was unfortunately dead, a hole through her neck and a large puddle of blood still pumping out of her jugular. The girl after that was more fortunate, though still very much in danger. A mercenary had her on her knees as he aimed his submachine gun at her. Neil quickly brought his rifle to bear, hip firing into him from only three paces away. The exit wound could fit Neil's head, and he fell into a heap of meat and bone. The fleshy shrapnel that covered the screaming woman would likely scar her for awhile, but at least she was alive. Neil hauled her to her feet and sent her running with a slap to her ass.
It was a maelstrom, and more than once did Neil need to duck. But as the smog cleared and the combatants lessened, he found exactly what he was looking for. In the distance, a tall silhouette stood motionless. Anyone would have thought him a statue if not for the flowing beard. That, and he did not move an inch, even in the middle of the fighting. This was why Sven frightened Neil as much as Saxon, at times. In his own way, he was even more alien than the Xenos.
The pilot felt better when he put the barrel of his 50. caliber slugthrower a meter away from Sven's chest. He cleared his throat to get the cyborg's attention. After a moment of Sven finishing whatever processing he had been attempting, he turned to Neil slowly. His facial expression still as neutral and cold as ever. As if he felt he shouldn't be surprised, Sven let out an "Ah, it's you." to the pilot, turning his whole body and looking at Neil as if he didn't have a gun trained on him. Then again, Neil even this gun could terminate Sven outright. But he wouldn't be functioning properly, at least.
"Why is it that every time I find you on a world, if you're not extorting, you're making a hostile take over?" Neil remarked tiredly. "Or do you just want in on the girls?"
"I've taken away such base desires." Sven said, a ghost of a smile appearing on his face. His eyes flicked to the right. "You on the other hand..."
Neil glanced where he was indicating, and a peculiarly dressed Sayeeda stood over the corpse of a gunman, her back turned. Sven kept talking. "Don't worry, now that you're here I will rein my men in." he continued. "I know better than to try and combat you. You're too unpredictable, even for my calculations."
"And because we're friends?" Neil asked hopefully. Sven didn't answer. Neil decided to break the silence by making a crowd whistle that drew Junebug's attention. "Well, now that we're not trying to kill each other anymore, tell me this. Did you know we were here when this all began?"
"No."
"Help us find something and we'll leave. We just need the Pasha."
"To kill?"
"To talk."
Sven grunted, and stood rigidly. He reached up with his left hand to touch a pressure point on the base of his neck, and with an audible click, Sven's left eyeball slowly exited his socket on three metal hinges. Neil stuck his tongue out in disgust as the eye suddenly grew a metal exoskeleton behind the iris, and eight metallic mandibles erupted from its base. Gingerly, Sven grabbed the eye in his hand, yanking it off the support hinges and letting it drop on the ground. It scuttled away like a spider.
"I will search every corner of the compound."</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
In her military career Junebug had occasionally been credited with good tactical instincts, some pieces of work had verged on brilliant, but at core her philosophy was a very simple one. Move fast, keep shooting and hope that when the smoke cleared you were still alive. It had been an excellent MO for armored unit commander and it was equally effective in the nasty close quarters fighting in the Pasha's palace. In the confusions and tight quarters she shot at everyone. Even if she were on a particular side there was no time to identify who was who. A figure in what might have been a uniform staggered out of a doorway trying to pull up his pants. Junebug shot him twice in the chest sending him spinning into a wall with a thud before leaping over his slumping body. Another man rounded a coner in at a blind run. Sayeeda cut him down without hesitation on realising as she passed that he had no weapon. Well worse things happened in war time. You didn't worry about what you couldn't change.
After a few minutes she found herself in a deserted corridor though she could still hear the screaming and gunfire at other points in the palace. She ducked into a deserted room and found it to be filled with huming banks of data storage equipment. Fumbling, she reloaded the stolen weapon with one of the box like magazines. It was unfamiliar but there were only so many ways that it made sense to assemble a gun.
"Captain," Niel's voice sounded in her ears.
"Sven's told his mercenaries to hold their fire," the pilot spoke over the comlink.
"You think they are going to listen to him?" she asked.
"I think so, these are some tough looking bastards but they are all shit scared of Sven," Neil returned. Sayeeda thought she could hear a mirthless chuckle in the background.
"You think he is after the same thing we are?" she asked, wondering if this was Sven's way of seizing the same document Canek was looking for.
"I don't think so," Neil responded with a touch of hesitation.
"Seems to be interested in a power grab." Junebug doubted the two things were mutually exclusive but it was going to be difficult to search while under fire. She pulled her intrusion kit out and slid it into the nearest computer.
"Can you access the system Taya?" she asked.
"Can do Junebug," Taya's voice responde.
"Alright, tell them I'm coming out," Junebug responded to Neil.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"You got it." Neil said into the comm, having seen where Junebug was a moment before through a haze of the dust that still clung to the air like a fog from all the gunfire. He told Sven to tell his men to lower their weapons. Sven nodded, and with a gesture of his hands, the mercenaries dropped their guns, or at least pointed their barrels to the floor.
"Which one will she be?" one of the mercs asked.
"Probably the one armed like you." Neil replied offhandedly, then he blinked. "Whoa, wait, what does it matter? You are not shooting any of the women here."
Junebug stepped out, hefting her assault rifle and wearing next to nothing. Neil's jaw dropped at the sight. She looked like she was a model for a Stahlkrieg advertisement. He headed over to her, 50. cal sniper rifle in his right hand as if it wouldn't break his arm trying to fire it offhandedly. He wasn't stupid (all the time). He took out the firing pin after Sven had ordered his men to stand down. More because he knew how Sven worked. Anything to lower the calculations of "statistical betrayal" was a boon.
"Well that could have been less messy." Neil remarked.
"Where's the fun in that?" Junebug said with a smirk, and she reloaded her Stalhkrieg weapon as if she'd owned it for years. "But really, it was lucky you found Sven when you did. Good eye." she said. Neil shrugged, but before he could speak, Sven remarked. "Found him." with a certainty Neil was all too familiar with.
"Second floor, fourth room of the left." The cyborg said, reciting the exact information that his eye was likely feeding him through a complex code even Neil probably couldn't begin to understand. "One hundred and ninety five centimeters in height. Barred from the inside. He holds a slave girl in chains with a gun on her." Out of the dust, the eye clawed across the landscape and scrambled up Sven's tall body back into his socket.
"This one is on you." Sven said. "You have five minutes."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda and Neil moved through the line of mercenaries. They were a scruffy looking bunch up close. A few had the look of hardened killers, the sort of men who Andor's Armored might have recruited to fill combat losses, but just as many seemed to be locals. These men seemed to be drawn from desert tribes rather than the more cosmopolitan inhabitants of the city. Their eyes shone with the eerie light of fanatics and they fingered their weapons as Neil and Junebug passed by. They snarled curses and growled like animals.
"Boy he sure can pick them," Neil observed as they climbed a set of carven stone steps towards the fourth floor. Sven's men had secured each landing of the stairs, their weapons pointed down the long corridors. Sayeeda tried to think of what she would do if she were the commander of the palace guard. Probably ascend to the room and push down the stairwell to secure the top floor then hold what she had until backup arrived. It was vanishingly unlikely there was anyone in the Pasha's guard who would be either willing or able to execute such a tactic.
A trio of mercenaries stood before a large door on the forth floor. The doorway itself was of a desert stone with veins that ran from gold to almost purple, the slabs had been polished until they shone with a jewel like radience that was far more beautiful than anything Sayeeda had yet seen within the luxurious palace. Aiden could take lessons. Beautiful though the door was Junebug had to admit that it was somewhat marred by the nights events. A large golden door handle had been blasted aside with a shaped charge which had cracked the stone and crazed the surface leaving the door hanging open. From inside a stream of invictive issues forth in an unbroken torrent. The curses were creative but appeared to be running down to a core message of 'fuck you' and 'I'll kill her".
"You should not be here slut!" one of the mercenaries, one of the desert nomads, snarled in barely understandable galactic. He took a step forward and raised his weapon. The butt of Junebug's rifle caught him across the temple with an audible crack. It wasn't a matter of strength, not really, merely momentum and precision. The rag clad guerrilla let out a weird mewling sound and dropped to the floor, blood running from his nose.
"Any further questions?" Junebug asked acidly. Another of the mercenaries, armored in gray ceramic and sporting an impressive mustache began to laugh. That unlooked for sound stilled the stream of cursing from beyond the shattered portal. The other mercenary, of a type with the one Junebug had just brained, looked simultaneously furious and impotent. Junebug strode past him and pointed her freehand at the man, finger extended and thumb raised like a childs impression of a pistol. She winked at the furiours looking dervish and mouthed the word 'bang' without actually making a noise. The mustachioed mercenary, clearly with a similar opinion of the lower class hirelings as Junebug, redoubled his laughter.
A room was a cyborgs clinical description, but the chamber beyond the portal was vast. Thirty meters atleas and easily half that wide with high ceilings that hung with intricately worked brass lanterns that housed modern illuminators. The floor was made of tiles of polished stone similar to the door save where large plush looking rugs lay over it. Expensive artworks and sculptures were scattered about along with numerous divans and couches. At the far end of the room stood a large bed that stood before a balcony which looked out over the starlight city. A slight shimmer of a static displacer danced in the portal, expensive tech on a backworld like this one even if all it did was keep dust out of your bedroom.
"If you take one more step ill kill her!" shrieked a man half crouched behind the foot of the bed. He was half dressed in silk robes though his turban hung comically from his head and his tunic had been buttoned up out of alignment. The pasha was not a impressive man, he might have been handsome once but age and dissipation had swollen his face and his fingers to the point that the many jeweled rings that bedecked them probably couldn't be taken off. He held a modern looking pistol into the back of a weeping slave girl. As Sven had stated she was chained at wrist and ankle and around her neck. Even in the moonlight she was physically impressive, a voluptuous goddess who appeared to have stepped from an erotic holo through her eyes and face were stained with tears. Given the intricacy of the chains she had clearly been restrained when the attack started, though the reasons why weren't something that Junebug wanted to pursue.
"Go ahead then," Junebug invited, arching an eyebrow in contempt at the ruler of the city. The Pasha appeared momentarily nonplused. He jammed the pistol hard against the womans ribs, eliciting a pained squeal.
"What?!" he gaped.
"Shoot her then, if you are going to," Junebug invited, hefting her rifle to indicate the woman.
"We only have a few minutes and Id rather not waste it on threats."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil stepped past a few of the mercs waiting outside, nonchalantly slipping past without notice to the looks he was getting from the hard men. He reloaded his gun, though anyone could have told him that wielding such a long rifle indoors was simple idiocy. Beggar's can't be choosers, however. He entered the room, and immediately gave a look of disgust as the Pasha's wrinkled old junk was hanging out for all the world to see.
"Ugh, put that away." Neil said. He was as impressed at the full form of the woman as he was disgusted by his flaccid equipment, but he'd had enough of the female flesh today. He simply wanted this activity done with. Of course, Junebug's casual dismissal of this woman's life drew a displeased look from him. "You're in a cranky mood, aren't you?" he joked, reaching behind her veiled pantaloons to what looked to the Pasha to be her ass, when in fact he simply took a pistol she had cleverly concealed after killing a mercenary or two.
In the hall, the mercs had begun to step aside like the ancient stories of the parting terran seas as their leader approached. Sven did not enter the room, however. He already felt confident enough of his victory. Instead he took a gun from one of his soldiers without a second thought, and realigned the structure of the weapon with a few simple twists before handing it back, to solve every imperfection of whatever machine he could find to increase his chances of being the deadliest despot in town.
"Sir," Neil said, drawing the man's attention to Neil's smiling face. "I want to apologize for my teammate. She's a little difficult to deal with. If you would just draw your attention here-" Like lightning, Neil aimed and fired, taking the Pasha in the side of the head. It left a scar cutting across his skull, and though he dropped and let the girl go, Neil grabbed her hand before she could flee. "I suggest you take a back way out." Neil told her, indicating the hungry mercenaries outside. Casually, he shot her chains, seperating her wrists with a simple motion. She didn't answer or even thank him, she just turned tail and ran the other way.
Neil looked to Junebug, and pointed his hand at her, mimicing her impersonation of using a pistol with her free hand earlier. 'Bang' he said with a wink, before making his way to the downed man who groaned audibly. "Tsk tsk tsk," Neil said, shaking his head. "We would have taken you alive if you hadn't been so dead set on being uncooperative. I guess in the next life, you can be a bit less standoffish."
Neil executed him, and took the holobook off of his person, tossing it to Junebug. "All the info should be in there, Cap."
Junebug caught it easily, turning the device on. In a moment, she smiled devilishly. "We have it. Maybe think next time before you execute someone though."
"Hey, he pissed me off."
"Now you can leave." a voice echoed, and when they both turned around, Sven stood at the door, looming over them like a guardian of legend. The mercs behind him looked ready to start killing once more, but their guns were down in obedience...for now. Neil shot him a thumbs up. "No problem. Thanks for the shit."</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil stepped past a few of the mercs waiting outside, nonchalantly slipping past without notice to the looks he was getting from the hard men. He reloaded his gun, though anyone could have told him that wielding such a long rifle indoors was simple idiocy. Beggar's can't be choosers, however. He entered the room, and immediately gave a look of disgust as the Pasha's wrinkled old junk was hanging out for all the world to see.
"Ugh, put that away." Neil said. He was as impressed at the full form of the woman as he was disgusted by his flaccid equipment, but he'd had enough of the female flesh today. He simply wanted this activity done with. Of course, Junebug's casual dismissal of this woman's life drew a displeased look from him. "You're in a cranky mood, aren't you?" he joked, reaching behind her veiled pantaloons to what looked to the Pasha to be her ass, when in fact he simply took a pistol she had cleverly concealed after killing a mercenary or two.
In the hall, the mercs had begun to step aside like the ancient stories of the parting terran seas as their leader approached. Sven did not enter the room, however. He already felt confident enough of his victory. Instead he took a gun from one of his soldiers without a second thought, and realigned the structure of the weapon with a few simple twists before handing it back, to solve every imperfection of whatever machine he could find to increase his chances of being the deadliest despot in town.
"Sir," Neil said, drawing the man's attention to Neil's smiling face. "I want to apologize for my teammate. She's a little difficult to deal with. If you would just draw your attention here-" Like lightning, Neil aimed and fired, taking the Pasha in the side of the head. It left a scar cutting across his skull, and though he dropped and let the girl go, Neil grabbed her hand before she could flee. "I suggest you take a back way out." Neil told her, indicating the hungry mercenaries outside. Casually, he shot her chains, seperating her wrists with a simple motion. She didn't answer or even thank him, she just turned tail and ran the other way.
Neil looked to Junebug, and pointed his hand at her, mimicing her impersonation of using a pistol with her free hand earlier. 'Bang' he said with a wink, before making his way to the downed man who groaned audibly. "Tsk tsk tsk," Neil said, shaking his head. "We would have taken you alive if you hadn't been so dead set on being uncooperative. I guess in the next life, you can be a bit less standoffish."
Neil executed him, and took the holobook off of his person, tossing it to Junebug. "All the info should be in there, Cap."
Junebug caught it easily, turning the device on. In a moment, she smiled devilishly. "We have it. Maybe think next time before you execute someone though."
"Hey, he pissed me off."
"Now you can leave." a voice echoed, and when they both turned around, Sven stood at the door, looming over them like a guardian of legend. The mercs behind him looked ready to start killing once more, but their guns were down in obedience...for now. Neil shot him a thumbs up. "No problem. Thanks for the shit."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda sat at the holotable of the Highlander, her elbows propped on the ceramo-plastic surface. Taya, Neil and Canek as at their own places while the waited for Taya to find what she was looking for in the databook they had taken from the former Pasha. Sayeeda was still wearing the harem girl outfit, though she had taken a few moments to wipe the grime away from her skin with cleaning wipes and she had added a jacket to the ensemble in deference to the cooler temperature created by the environmental control system.
"I'm not finding any records pertaining to the treasure ship," Taya said with a frown. Canek looked at her suspiciously. The mercenary captain looked considerably worse for wear. His right eyebrow and the hair on the side of his face had been singed away, and his skin was the unnervingly uniform color of a synthetic spray. Sayeeda, who had been severely burned during her time in the Armored, had some sympathy for him, but the fact that his goons had hit her over the head a few hours ago did someone dry that well.
"It won't directly mention the treasure ship," Canek prompted, "But there should be something, lights in the sky, unusual activity, strangers in the port." It stood to reason, if the Pasha or his ancestors had known the location of the treasure ship, they would certainly have claimed it long ago.
"Wait…" Taya said, tapping a few keys. The holo table sprang to life in a stylized view of the night sky above Hanh. An accented voice began to speak.
"I can seldom remember when the Lyre was in such opposition to the Queen of Darkness," the voice mused self importantly.
"These are astrological readings performed by the court Astrologer during the time the treasure ship was supposedly lost," Taya explained.
"Lonny can you do a search for any references to shooting stars or local variants of the term?" she asked.
"Aye Aye Lassie!" Lonny chirruped. There was a warbeling burst of sound which Sayeeda interpreted as the records being played at many times normal speed. The screen split into three, each recording a shooting star caught be the astrologers vid pickup. To Sayeeda's eye they all looked the same but Taya cooed in triumph and selected the right most screen, expanding it to the full size of the display.
"What's special about that one?" Canek demanded, leaning forward in spite of himself. Taya touched a few more keys and the display marked the track across the sky as a continuous line. There was a very slight arc to it which Lonny highlighted in red.
"Breaking thrust," Neil exclaimed, as a pilot he grasped the essentials faster than either Canek or Sayeeda did.
"Not much though, probably just the emergency systems, wouldn't have stopped a crash," he added, glancing down at the data scrolling past on the screen. Sayeeda frowned.
"Can we compute a vector from this information?" she asked, "A likely crash point?" Obediently the screen shifted, highlighting an area of several hundred square kilometers with a larger area around it highlighted in a lighter shade.
"Thats a big area," she said dubiously.
"We have nae information bout thruster discharge closer to the crash site Cap'n," Lonny explained, "We cannae be more precise than that."
"Its better information than anyone has had in a hundred years," Canek said with a grin.
"So we cant search this area with sensors or something?" Sayeeda asked, still dubiously. Canek shook his head.
"Unfortunately the poles are fairly heavily irradiated. There was water here once but a large uranium and soluble iron ferrite based asteroid blasted the planet some time in the distant past. Most of that radiation was sequestered in the water, which was drawn to the poles after the asteroid destroyed the original orbit. It's not dangerous in short bursts but it's enough to fox most sensors."
"Huh," Sayeeda said, shaking her head.
"So all we have to do is head up to a radioactive wasteland where an unknown number of psychotic treasure hunters are already scouring the landscape and hunt for a ship we can't use sensors to find in an area the size of a small country?" she asked. Canek spread his hands.
"I never said it would be easy, but if we pull this off you get your share and the parts you need to get off this rock."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil and Sayeeda were ready to go, and to Neil's distaste, Saxon insisted on going along. He flexed his clawed paws as he insisted that if he did not brutalize someone or something soon, he would break apart the Highlander out of boredom. Neil believed him, and the three, along with Canek, made their way back to Canek's base to outfit themselves best they could. "I think we have a good arsenal back at the Highlander!" Neil yelled as they sped through the desert on Canek's bulked up transport.
"Trust me, my 'friend'." Canek said, still a bit put off by Neil stealing Junebug away in the middle of a firefight, paying no thought to the fact that Neil initially aided him by self destructing a dervish raider before combat began. "You will want to check my stock! You also will need some specialized rebreathers. They're newly developed by Iodian Tech!" Saxon snorted as if that was funny, and to him it would be as his rebreather was highly advanced. Neil new Iodan though, as a company. Their usual business was mining asteroids for precious metals.
Parking at Canek's facility, the members of his 'militia' or whatever he called them were busy at work repairing the damages from the night before. Some hauled boxes and used a junker version of the hauler to move crates, while others sprayed on plascrete to the damages architecture, the goo slowly reforming and hardening as they carved it up to resemble what it once was before explosives and small arms fire marred the place.
As sparks flew onto the dirties floor, a mechanic repairing a badly damaged hover transport, Neil and Sayeeda hopped out of the aircar, the vehicle notably lurching when Saxon stepped off. "Follow me," Canek said, calling for what guards were on duty to lower their weapons, as the newcomers had lasguns trained on them from the moment they set foot within. Canek stopped, motioning for Saxon to stay. "Er, not you. You look well outfitted, and you wouldn't fit inside, I am afraid."
Saxon growled threateningly, but didn't argue. They continued on.
Past a heap of parts that were likely scavenged from the desert, an immense fan that droned out all noise in the immediate area, and a few rougher men cleaning their rifles with a dutiful precision, Canek led them into a lesser corridor. The lights within were attached via thick wires, and they flickered unreliably every few moments. Turning into another hall, he made it to the first door on the left and opened it, revealing a dark room.
With an audible clack, the pulled lever on the wall lit up the large chamber of weaponry. Neil's eyes widened, and even Sayeeda, who had no doubt seen more armaments than any here felt a swell of adrenaline blooming in her breast. There were two floors, and they would be able to step down into the main area. Up here however, were various pistols and submachine guns looted from across the galaxy, if not at least various systems. Small arms with heat signature add ons, laspistols, plasma pistols, sawed off groaner guns, sawed off shotguns, slug throwers, revolvers.
Neil already had a pistol he wouldn't trade for the world, so he stepped down the small stairway into the larger room, where one could still overlook via railing in the pistol area. Below, and along the walls, were plasma guns, rail guns, gauss rifles. More explosives than Neil had seen in awhile, and it was actually somewhat arousing. Napalm throwers, napalm grenades, ion grenades, frag grenades, krak grenades. Las weaponry and slug weaponry of various types, with assult rifles, sniper rifles, shotguns, battle rifles.
"Hey, you think we'll need this?" Neil joked, and Sayeeda could look down and see him holding a miniaturized atomic payload (it was still as large as Neil's chest) meant for destroying villages in a literal flash. Canek laughed guiltily. "That was quite a find. Do not drop it, though in theory it will only detonate with the detonator."</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil imagined most mercenaries would look at the Hahn desert and feel like it's such wasted potention, or that there was very little to be gained here if it wasn't for the treasure coordinates. The kind of guys who could only appreciate hard drinking and soft women, and don't get him wrong, Neil was all for both. But he also enjoyed seeing other worlds and their biomes. The vastness of space and all it held within still amazed him. He could travel his entire life and not visit all of the habitable systems, much less all of the habitable planets.
Even a desert like this, he could appreciate. Good music, the hot sun, the promise of wealth, and a nice engine revving beneath him. He'd donned his shades for this particular mission, and he still had an attitude that screamed 'I'm stylish' after three days of travel. Of course, he was a bit wary of Saxon. Though most would say he was simply...saner now. Usually Saxon's moods that could easily turn violent didn't bother him unless he had nothing else to preoccupy his time with.
He reoriented the rearview mirror, and the plume of dust in the far distance behind him told him that the caravan was on schedule and keeping a good track on their movements. Not that Neil minded. As long as he and his crew got their fair share. Well, it was Sayeeda's crew, but still. In the way back, Saxon sat unmoving, gazing into the open desert as if he were a crocodile basking. All he needed was the open mouth.
A red ping went off on the display system of the transport, and Neil smacked the side of the vehicle to let everyone know they were slowing down. They were now within the sector of the treasure, though that still meant there was a hundred square miles to sift through, and nothing in the immediately landscape screamed 'significant.' They had decided before they left that they would plant beacons once they entered, to gradually send signals through the sand and rock to see what exactly dwelled beneath.
The vehicle juttered to a halt, and Neil gave the girls in the back a grin before unneccesarily vaulting over his doorside and stretching, making his way to one of the side compartments where most of the supplies were stored. Reaching in, he found purchase on what looked to be a long pole. A subtle shift of his grip and three prongs shot out like knives from the bottom of the contraption, and a red beacon flittered to life for but a moment to indicate it was on.
"Neil, hand me some water?" Taya asked, holding her hand out feebly as if she was dehydrating before the crew's very eyes. It was an obvious exaggeration. Junebug wiped her forehead and asked for one two. He tossed them both bottles. "What about you, big guy. Want some?" Neil asked. Saxon didn't turn or answer him, though the rise and fall of his massive chest spoke he was still awake and alive. He shrugged, and grabbed himself one.
"You know, this'd make a good beach. If there was water here." Neil remarked, and took a swig of the bottle. The water had an iron taste to it once the projectile punched through the plastic. He almost didn't notice it at first, but the distant sound of gunfire and the water now spilling onto his hands sobered him up. "Oh SHIT!" Neil dived low as the sand dunes to the east revealed dozens of hidden dervish raiders, all with slug weaponry as they began to unload on the less than armored transport.
As if to prove again he was awake, Saxon gave a warbling cry and launched out of the transport with a massive leap, bullets ricocheting off his armor as he began to fire at the northern section of the enemy lines, a rocket flying out of a wrist launcher to engulf two men in flame and shrapnel.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Tracerfire sparkled of the hull of the LAV as Sayeeda dived for cover. As she rolled her helmet visor came alive with carrots that pinpointed the position of hostile muzzle flash. Taya screamed and threw herself to the ground covering her head in panic. That wasn't a great reaction in a crisis but it wasn't an uncommon one in ones first exposure to a firefight.
A pair of rockets leaped from concealed positions among the rocks toward the tank. They were too close for the tanks plasma guns to swat, even if they had been set to air defense but a section of the massive vehicles hull exploded outwards in a sleet of steel pellets. The missile defense system essentially detonated one of dozens of integral claymores, which sprayed ball bearings outwards in a cone the computer calculated as an intercept for incoming warheads. One of the missiles exploded in the air and the other one vereed wildly as a section of its steering fin was cut away, mushrooming against the side of the mesa and raining down rocks on the combatants below. A flash of blue bright enough that it would have burned Sayeeda's eyes slashed across the sky touching one of the APCs and converting it into a fireball of burning metal, fuel and men. A second lance stabbed towards the tank a second later, but the user must have been using a targeting laser because the tanks sand caster fired, spraying a sheet of debris into the air. The lance struck the cloud of gravel and liberated its energy in an explosive cyan fireball that showered the tank with flecks of burning rock but did no real damage.
The ambushers had probably expected the rockets to take out the tank and the second lance had been meant for the other APC but luck had been with Canek. The surviving APC cut its fans and hammered to the dirt like the thirty ton anvil it was. The side panels sprang open and Canek's mercenaries unassed in record time, opening fire at where they saw, or thought they saw enemies. Sayeeda belatedly realised that the fact they were placing a net of sensors in a particular pattern meant that the enemy was able to predict where they be and lay an ambush. Still an ambush had to work to be effective.
"AID," she called, queuing the low level artificial intelligence in her helmet.
"Slave vehicle guns to my threat indicator." The mounted guns on the lvl slewed and began to rip out short two or three round bursts into the mesas, targeting the carroted threats on her visual display. Men tumbled down the slope missing heads or limb from the stabbing plasma discharges. Another LAV exploded in a shower of shrapnel as a rocket arced into its hull, blasting the ammunition and combustibles inside to flaming showers of debris in a fraction of an instant. Bullets wicked the dirt around her lifting puffs of dirt like geysers. Staying next to a vehicle that would draw heavy weapons fire was a bad move and there was no way they could get the LAV back into the air. Even now its hull sparkled with bullet impacts even as the heavy weapons continued to deal automated death. Leaping to her feet she grabbed the cowering Taya and half dragged her the ten meters to where a cluster of boulders provided cover. A ragged man in desert garb rosed from concealment swinging a rifle to bear. Sayeeda cut him down with a three round burst that sent his head and arms flying in separate arc. With a world ending crash the tank fired its main gun. The twenty five centimeter plasma cannon hit the mesa with the force of a thousand freight trains, converting a divot twice the tanks own mass to gaseous rock. If the LAV hadn't already been grounded the concussion would have flipped the vehicle like a tiddlywink.
Men were screaming and burned as the bullets and plasma bolts howled back and forth. One of Canek's infantry feel to the ground, his arm shorn away at the shoulder by enemy fire. The plasma lance stabbed again, this time the gunner had taken the targeting laser offline and it carved a glittering scar across the tanks bowslow. All three of the LAVs guns converged on the shooter who had just made himself the biggest threat on the battlefield in the computers silicon brained opinion.
"Neil!" Sayeeda yelled, standing up and riping another burst uphill.
"We have to get some…" the tanks gun crashed again and the concussion dropped her on her ass behind the rocks before cooling drops of magma reigned from the sky.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
If Neil had been back on his homeplanet, he would have distinguished himself. He had been an expert Mech pilot back then, and a fair fighter on the ground, but after years of combat on his feet he'd become a far better physical combatant. He was among some of Canek's men who were out of their vehicles, firing at the ambushers with automatic weaponry. Neil's new Reaper worked like a charm.
Reloading the cock with one swift action, he didn't even need to aim it at eye level. Two Dervishes were slain from three hip fire rounds on single shot, the bullet holes tearing through their bodies to bury in their allies who hide behind a dune of sand. Three more men fell with his next four rounds, punching through bodies and armor with satisfying boltshots.
Briefly he heard Sayeeda calling for him, his ears still ringing from the latest tank shots. He turned just in time to see the dervish attackers flanking their position. The leading one already in the middle of aiming for him. Neil leaped to the side, dodging the slug that would have punctured his chest. The dervish leaped at him, a curved knife in his hands. Neil landed on his back and caught the weapon arm.
His knee struck the attacker in the stomach, and kicking off the man flipped over Neil end over end. To his credit, the desert raider reoriented himself just as Neil did, stabbing left with the knife as both lunged for the other on their knees in the desert sand. Neil caught his weapon hand once more, simultaneously striking at the man's neck with a hand chop using his free hand. He quickly disarmed the choking assailant and stabbed him with his own weapon.
The men fought in a whirling maelstrom of bullets and lasshots among the dunes around Neil, many now in close combat like he had been. Swiftly, he searched the body of the man he killed, finding two frag grenades and even an ion grenade, used for disrupting vehicles and electronics for a short amount of time. He looked at one of the frags and found the pin, yanking it and tossing it over into the next dune beyond their lines where the enemy streamed from. It detonated and cut through three men, one crying out in pain, his intestines merely being torn as he bled into the sand, dying a slow death.
"Captain!" he called to her, but the tank fired again and sand engulfed Neil as the concussive blast sent a miniature sandstorm through the now blood soaked sand. He wished he had the hauler. Maybe then he could do more than be just another rank and file. He tried again, but when he called for Junebug, his voice was hoarse from the sand in the air. The LAV lasers sliced through another ubiquitous line of men, their torsos falling off their legs in an almost unnatural, silly way to Neil's sensibilities.
He grabbed a handful of sand and crawled as best as he could through the noise and fighting, cutting into an enemy's hamstrings, felling him with a stab to the neck and a grunt, before continuing on. It was what seemed an eternity before he rolled off a steep dune that looked to be almost a sheer drop before he rolled into Sayeeda, who had been knocked on her ass a second time.
"Sup?" he asked tiredly, looking up at her through the debris and sand.</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Taya shook from the fact she had just killed someone, the gun in her hands vibrating from the revulsion. Neil ducked out of the way of the barrel and grabbed the gun. Taya was almost taken aback Neil was still there, and the sudden scare caused her to pull the trigger. The bullet hit the crevice wall and ricocheted, causing her to scream. Neil wasn't angered though. He just took the gun from her hands, and then held a hand up to keep her calm.
"Sorry." he saw her mouth, though over the din of gunfire he could only hear a whisper of what she said. He simply tied the rope around her waist, thanking Gideon that Junebug had tossed it down. With that, he told her to stay there, and began to ascend, placing his boot on an outjutting rock and climbing like the agile young guy he was.
Once he crested the tall rise, he felt like he had crawled right into hell for a split second. Sand, flashes of light, and screams accompanied the cacophony of the ubiquitous roar of battle. A sudden explosion tore out of the sand, raining bloody shrapnel along the rocky rise as the pilot knelt beside the Captain who sent shot after shot into the desert. Neil hardly noticed, pulling the rope up one great tug at a time to get Taya to the top.
Once he hauled her up, she crouched next to them. Shaken but otherwise ok. Neil was proud of her, to be honest. She had a small freakout and then powered through it. Though that was the least of their problems at the moment. They needed to figure out their location and where Canek was planning on making a rendezvous. Sayeeda pulled a communications device out of her pants and hailed who Neil assumed was Canek.
"Can-F, Can-F!" she cried into it, but there was nothing but static to greet her. The heavy ordinance and the EMP's being delivered around the perimeter must have short circuited the wiring. Even the comms were temporarily out, from Neil's estimation. He placed his comm back in his ear, cursing. "Where do we go?" he asked her.
It was at that moment that a hundred things happened at once. A reverberation struck what seemed to be the entirety of the desert. Both Neil and Sayeeda felt their soldierly sixth senses kicking in. They knew what was happening, even before they could see the streaks of red on the horizon. Miles off, the heavy weapons had been discharged, and rounds the size of aircars were being shot into the open desert in the desperate hope of destroying Canek's caravan.
Junebug grabbed Taya and hoisted her, and Neil ducked and rolled as the rounds suddenly struck the desert and the rocky region they found themselves in, sending enormous shockwaves and debris scattering for a tenth of a kilometer around. The three of them were thrown, somehow without major damage but sent literally flying to hit the crags in a rough roll. Sand blanketed their vision as everything went dark, and for a long moment, Neil thought he was dead.
...Until he felt himself give an intake of thick, stuffy air into his lungs. His ass and hands were wet, and he was on a hard floor, with a light far above him beaming down to illuminate the area he found himself in. Taya and Junebug lay near him, the Captain stirring as he did, rubbing her head. "Where the fuck are we?" she asked, blinking and getting her bearings. The walls were smooth and the puddles of water and sand mingled in the uneven floor, though upon closer inspection, the floor was uneven by design. They were on a tiled walkway within a...ship?
Neil couldn't answer her more informatively than his next sentence provided.
"I think we found what we were looking for."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda hit the ground hard enough that the breath exploded from her chest. The ceramic armor saved her ribs, though she would still have bruises to show for it tomorrow. Something blond and flailing hit her across the chest with a squawk, driving her into the ground. Instinctively, Junebug rolled over, covering the girl with her armored body as rock splinters and shell fragments rained down around them. The static charge on the helmet kept the dust of her visor but the air in front of her was essentially a sandstorm. THe radio crackled useless in an unintelligible hash of static. The air above still screamed with artillery and gun fire.
They were in a narrow metal lined cavern with stalac… no… Sayeeda's shell stunned brain caught up with what was going on. The were in a massive shattered airlock. Piping, brown with a rind of ancient rust reached up towards the remaining fragments of the mesa. Not a mesa, a camouflage construction. Someone had camouflaged the starship. The Treasure ship was an orbital vessel, never meant to land in an atmosphere, but her pilot had brought her down using the thrusters against the pull of gravity. The star hot fusion drives must have melted the sand to lava as it landed, sinking the ship into a cocoon of crude glass that had been quickly covered by the blowing desert winds. All that had remained above the ground was this airlock. Somone, probably the original Terran crew had covered it with a crude concrete of sand, close enough to the sandstone mesas to fool even local wildlife into making a home of it. The crew must have left their hidden ship with the goal of returning to salvage her, but the desert or the RIP had swallowed them and their secret.
Taya struggled under Sayeeda's armored weight and as the last shells burst above she picked herself up releasing the girl. The submachine gun Junebug was carrying felt light and she glanced down to see that the barrel had been amputated two thirds the way along its length by a shell fragment that would have killed her instantly if it had been a meter to the right. Junebug tossed the weapon to the ground and drew the pistol from her belt. Above them the sound of gunfire was slacking as Canek and his surviving two vehicles retreated, gaining enough clearance from the shell struck mesa that their air defense systems could pot the incoming shells.
"Who are these people," Taya asked shakily, she still had her pistol in her hand, though Junebug noticed the red led that indicated the weapon was empty was light.
"Another group of mercs," Sayeeda explained, moving to the side of the airlock where a maintenance grating lay partially ajar. Her eyes scanned the rim of the artifical crater above them, though she could at least hope anyone that had been on top of the mesa had been blown to ragged meat.
"They must have found the ship but haven't got the transport yet to loot it properly," she conjectured.
"Probably set up a defensive perimeter while they wait for ships. Thats why they dropped the hammer on us when we showed up, they were already here to defend their prize," Junebug explained.
"Well what do we do now," she demanded. A figure appeared on the lip above them pointing a machine gun down over the lip. Sayeeda whipped her pistol up but before she could fire the man screamed as Saxon grabbed him from behind, lifted the man over his head and hurled him into the pit. The mercenary hit the ground with a sound like a cracking egg, the machine gun flying from his dead fingers with a clatter. Saxon jumped into the hole a moment before a burst of tracer fire ripped through his previous position, his long talons acting as a break as he dragged them through the sandstone to slow his decent. He landed heavily, adsorbing the shock by flexing his knees before straightening. He looked from the dead mercenary to Sayeeda, the pouches under his neck swelling. She had the peculiar impression of a cat laying a mouse at the feet of its mate.
"There are many more vermin approaching," he hissed in his serpentine voice.
"I saw armored carriers coming across the sand, Canek flees like a coward," he sneered. Sayeeda, an experienced tanker, knew that Canek's only choice was to move out into open space where he could use his vehicles effectively. She doubted he was willing to give up on the treasure ship that easily.
"What do we do?" Taya asked, her voice quivering with fear. Neil, who had been working on the maintaince hatch with his multi-tool pulled the hatch cover off and let it fall to the floor with a clang.
"I guess we take a look inside."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil felt his head, and with a mild relief he realized he'd not received a concussion. Though the fall had been jarring enough to have him worrying he'd fall over again once he tried to get to his feet. Luckily, it was a hollow worry, and he stretched his right leg to get feeling back into it. "One thing after another." he whispered to himself, ignoring Saxon's entrance. Despite himself, he was still amused by the big guy. He knew Saxon hated him more than he could ever hate Saxon.
He approached the man Saxon had tossed to his death, and he gathered up the man's thrown assault rifle. Just a slug thrower, but it was better than none at all. He made sure the safety was on and he tossed it to Junebug, who caught it in her offhand and slung it over her shoulder. She still wielded her pistol in the close quarters of the inner ship. He didn't entirely trust Taya immediately with a gun, she was a tad shaken, though far less so than he thought she would be.
"Well, it's not an Aelahyne ship. It's an old Troxis ship from beyond the Palantine Void." he said, squinting past the bits of rock and dirt that crowded around the cavernous inner corridor. It lead away from the dank chamber they found themselves in. Saxon for his part lifted his head and gazed at Neil in what had to have been confusion. Taya spoke up.
"How can you tell?"
Neil looked at her, and then looked between all of them. "Does no one remember when 2 million years worth of Aelahyne knowledge was downloaded into my brain? No one?...When we were stuck in the last Aelahyne ship?"
"Ok, then what else do you know?" Junebug said.
"Well apparently from what the Old One's knowledge tells me, most Troxis ships are shaped like Hammerheads from Old Terra, if you've seen the Holos. We're in the loading bay, and down that corridor is the...Pherysian Room, which is a weird room where the Troxis would...somehow reorient subjective time dilation in order to help last long journeys through space." Neil blinked, beginning to understand the words that were pouring from his mouth. "They literally stepped into vats that would change time around them and their ship, and live as if a thousand year journey lasted a day...wow neat."
His last exclamation took the discovery awe right out of the group, and they still had a very real threat approaching from above. "We have to move." Junebug said, pulling Taya along as Saxon and Neil took point up ahead, barging through the broken stoneway into a wider chamber with, as Neil had guessed, broken vats half filled with a strange liquid of unknown dark coloration.
"Where to now?"
"The most defensible place would likely be to our right, if this is the same model ship I have in my uploaded memory."
Junebug moved without hesitation, her pistol at the ready as she took point this time, the others close on her heels as they cautiously entered a strange room with no other openings or exits, with various walls as tall as Neil's waist set up eight deep, as well as sunken premade trenches in the floors and a portcullis-like contraption at the entrance. Taya looked around wildly. "W-...what is this room?"
"This is the breeding room." Neil said, not wanting to delve any further into the strange Troxis anatomy that would cause a fortified room to be required for breeding. "Don't ask."</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The comm crackled like popped bubblewrap. Only in the briefest intervals would Sayeeda be able to pick up the odd word or two. Spoken in quick succession and to one another in their native tongue. The volume on the static too a downward spiral, and suddenly the frequency popped and then skyrocketed into a high pitch squeal of a sound, and then silence. Until a clear, cold voice spoke over the comm with an air of confidence.
"Hello." the voice said, obviously accented and rough, but still somewhat cultured in its inflection. "To whom am I speaking to?"
"Captain Cyckali of the Highlander crew." she replied. "Your name and rank?"
There was a silence for a moment, and then an answer. "Raoul Shajar. Colonel."
As Sayeeda was making contact, Neil checked the integrity of the "door" Saxon had made after slamming that slab shut, even welding a bit of it with his multitool to keep it steady, mouth grinning widely at the sight of the flames, giving the youthful man a terrible look to his otherwise charmingly sly features. Behind him, he could hear Sayeeda's answers growing more curt as she had to literally drag out the terms of ceasefire.
"Allow us to leave unharmed and unmolested, and no more of your men need die." She said.
"Or we could allow you to starve." the voice said back. Neil had a feeling whoever Raoul was, he was probably a disgraced Baron having fallen on hard times. "Unless you wish to join us, that is."
"We have a contract with another benefactor. I don't break contracts. Business is business."
"Then you can hardly blame me for not aiding your...benefactor by allowing you to leave."
"If you think-"
Neil had begun to explore the back of the chamber, a memory of a memory bringing him to look for another option. In the wall looked to be an enclosed archway, only there was no door here it seemed. Only the archway, with various archaic pressure points along the wall set in a hexagonal fashion. He gingerly pressed the third to the left, two feet above his head. There was a sudden exhalation of air from an unknown vent, and a small control chamber slid out chest height.
"Hey! Hey big guy!" Neil whispered, drawing Saxon's burning gaze. He motioned for him to come over. The Xenos did begrudgingly, stomping past the interlocking walls to the corner where Neil stood. "What do you want?" He sounded less than pleased, though that was usually the norm. Neil pointed at the wall.
"Bend down and pick it up, will you?" he said.
Saxon just looked at him quizzically. Neil's fingers almost sang a tune as he manned the control console. If his Aelahyne memory served, and it was technically uploaded knowledge so it would serve without fault like a machine. Just a few more seconds and he would have it, but he didn't have the strength to move it. Normally with a stable power source it would, but now?
"What are you bleating about?" Saxon warbled.
"Look!" Neil exclaimed, pointing. The Hexanagallion looked again, and sure enough there was a slit in the wall where there had not been, just next to the floor. Saxon gave Neil one last look of contempt before bending down and placing his great claws upon the fallen wall, lifting it up, inch by grinding inch until it revealed a small inner corridor, lit by a strange red glow that seemed to have no source. As Taya placed a hand over her mouth, Neil grinned wickedly.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The sudden light of the sun was blinding. Junebug stood like a statue, unable to move or even breathe. She had the disturbing sensation that her heart wasn't beating. They were on a dune, an almost shear wall of falling sand. In the distance smoke rose from the shattered mesa where, a second ago she would have sworn she stood. Two brass casings hung suspended in the air beside her ejection port, held in the air by nothing Junebug could determine. Saxon stood beside her, equally imobile, his wrist mounted cannon was frozen in mid muzzle blast, the small hyper velocity bullets frozen a few inches from the muzzle.
With a sudden crack the muzzle blast completed and the suspended bullets vanished, the casings fell to the sand below her feet and Junebug staggered her mind reeling. She had been shooting at someone, hadn't she? But that had been inside a spacecraft? Recent memories were confused and garbled and she could remember little since being thrown into the alien ship. Taya fell to the sand beside her, a small pistol in her hand and her eyes wide and staring. No ne seemed able to move but after a moment Junebug's hands moved on their own, mechanically stripping the half empty clip from her stolen rifle and replacing it with a fresh one. The action snapped shut and the sound seemed to free the others from their temporary paralysis. Saxon leaped to his feet, bearing his teeth and letting out a sibilant screech of rage. He really was quite attractive in a primal sort of way Junebug observed. Neil stepped into view and helped Taya to her feet.
"What happened…" Taya gasped, her eyes wide and terrified.
"We used the lifeboat," Neil explained, he was calmer looking that Sayeeda felt he had any right to be. Whatever had happened they clearly weren't in a lifeboat she thought mulishly.
"What lifeboat," Taya asked, clearly desperate for something she could make sense of.
"I told you they had control over time," Neil explained, looking a little uncomfortable.
"AID, replay past thirty seconds at 2x," Junebug instructed, speaking only with a considerable mental effort. Her helmet obediently began to replay footage, she saw the doors blowing off their hinges and the muzzle flash of her own weapon as she opened fire. Saxon stepped from behind cover to add his fire to hers. Junebug saw herself reload, catching a glimpse of Taya, eyes squeezed shut, firing her pistol the direction of the door. Sayeeda leveled her rifle and opened fire, her view point rocking with the violence of the long automatic burst and then… she stood on the dune.
"It froze us in time, just for a second," Neil was saying, "enough that the rotation of the planet bought us clear."
Junebug's mind shied away from the implication of the statement and she mentally shrugged, trying to fight her way clear of the mental apathy that whatever had just happened had induced. To the eyes of the enemy they must simply have vanished, although that might be hard to be sure of in the chaos and confusion of their attempted breach.
"Cyckali," Saxon hissed, his Hexagallion mouthparts doing a better job of rendering her last name than either her given name or her nickname. She turned to see him pointing away down the trough of the june. Perhaps a half a kilometer away there smoked a metallic object that shimmered with heat. Her helmet magnified the view to show Canek's tank. It lay on a pool of glass, its composite armor all but glowing with heat energy. The turret was completely gone, lifted by the force of the blast when one of the anti-tank artillery shells had found the fusion bottle. Junebug had seen the sight to many times to hold out any hope. Her mouth worked and she began to laugh. They had no money, no parts to fix the Highlander, their employer was a cloud of vaporized carbon, they were in the middle of the desert with no transport and an unknown number of well equipped enemies were certain to hunt them down as soon as they realised they weren't hiding on the ship somewhere. The almost hysterical laughter echoed of the quiet dunes, broken only by the distant crack of fracturing metal as the stricken tank collapsed in on itself.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"Well...this was fun." Neil said without spirit, looking vacantly out into the desert sands. It stretched as far as the eye could see, and without batting an eye. He seemed to have lost his spirit, and it was further evident when he was almost violently grabbed by Saxon by the neck, lifting him up seemingly into the sun. Neil didn't bat an eye other than looking somewhat surprised at the sudden 'attack.'
"Wait, stop! What are you doing?" Taya asked, trying to move across a small rise in the sand to get to Saxon, though she didn't know what she would do if it came down to it. Saxon and Neil didn't acknowledge her. Saxon pulled Neil down face to face with him, his bestial breath filled Neil's senses.
"As usual, all of this is because of you. I wouldn't doubt if I killed you here and now, our fortunes would improve."
"You're probably right." Neil said, clearing his throat. He knew Saxon could simply squeeze and pop his head clean off. He wondered what Junebug and Taya would do, though he guessed it didn't matter. He'd be too dead to see or care. He almost felt that way now, truth be told. He'd saved their lives, but they wouldn't have been out here in the first place if it wasn't for Neil. He got Sven to get them into this wild goose chase and now they were in a desert of unknown size and dangers. "Hey, when you kill me can you be sure to drink my blood to stay hydrated?"
"Put my pilot down." Junebug told Saxon, placing another clip in the receiver of her gun and aiming it his way. Saxon looked like a crocodillian then, eyes almost emotionless, yet somehow you could tell it sought to attack at any moment. Neil's voice spoke up next. "Aim for the lower back, just above the hindquarters. He's less armored there." Saxon's teeth gritted, and he shook Neil, silencing him. Still, after a few brief moments, he tossed Neil to the ground and shrugged his shoulders, though the move was an alien way of stretching the excess energy he had left in his system.
Neil hit the ground and blinked, his eyes stinging from the sand and the intense light that beat down on them. What did they have, one gallon of water left, between the four of them? Taya fell to her knees in relief. "Thank the stars." she said, sinking into the sand as if she was sinking beneath waves. Behind her, Neil lifted his head from the sand.
"How long is the day cycle on this planet?" he asked.
They all look at him. Well, Sayeeda and Taya did. Neil remembered on his own when they had flown in. 34 hours. "Wait no, what direction did we move in from Caneks?"
"Southwest." Junebug said.
"Once the stars are out, we can make it back." he said, as if he had just received a revelation.
"How would that work? We don't know this planet's constellations, Neil." Taya replied, shaking her head. Neil's look buttoned her lip.
"I do, though." he said, tapping his head.
"Why not, we have nothing else we can fucking do." Junebug said, falling onto her back in the sand and covering her eyes with her forearms. "But even if we get our bearings, we'll probably still die."
Hours later, the sun had dipped below the horizon agonizingly slow. Neil did his best not to watch it set. He needed his eyes good for the constellations. Saxon had taken residence in a smaller dune of sand about a dozen paces from them, having basked in the sun like any cold-blooded creature would. Taya and Junebug sipped their canteens fleetingly, talking to each other. Or, Taya talked and Junebug replied with the odd curse or slur, or gave a violent anecdote that had Taya skipping to different topics so she wouldn't need to dwell on it.
The sky lit up with stars almost as soon as the Sun had disappeared, and just as Neil had thought, they were as bright in the desert as they ever would be, no matter the planet one was on. He saw the two headed serpent, Zahhak to the left, and just below it was the strong man, Enkidu, bare chested and wild haired. But of course, right of them was Jawzarh, the largest and brightest collection of stars that formed a great dragon. He still had no idea how such information was in his head, but he wasn't going to question it.
"I know where we're going." He said, triumphantly. The sense of elation was pure ecstasy. Maybe they could make it out of this shit hole. They might not have the money to make it off world, but Neil had done shady things in the past to get what he needed. He knew they could figure something out once they made it back to civilization.
They walked all night where Neil indicated north, knowing they would come by a bedouin path at some point. Travelers riding the strange beasts they had seen in town, But when the sun rose again, they had no found a thing. Junebug did well keeping people moving, joking with Neil and reassuring Taya. Saxon moved without complaint or slowing, but he refused when Neil and Junebug asked him to let Taya ride on his shoulders.
Another night and day passed, and they still had found nothing. No shelter, or sign of passage. Saxon began to mutter that Neil had no idea where they were going, but the others knew better logically. They had gone southwest via transport, moving many kilometers an hour and had gone for several days. They had far too many miles to think about between them and the town, but still, they should have come by a sign of some habitation, and the lack of food and water had everyone on edge.</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
20 minutes later, Neil stepped into the break room by the Cockpit access corridor where the crew usually ate their meals. Normally he would care about how presentable he was when in front of a pretty woman, and this one was more ravishing than almost any he'd seen. More beautiful than any remembered, at least. But he was just happy to have a shower and clean clothes.
His hair was matted and still glistening from the water, and the food and water in front of him he ate greedily. The harem girl sat across from him, her dark hair unkempt but somehow its softness was evident as it curled around her delicate shoulders in a thick, roughly tied stream. He looked up from his meal after a moment to see her looking at him, and he couldn't tell if she was simply watching how piggish he was being or if she was curious about something.
"Sorry," he croaked, and beat on his chest a bit with his fist to clear his throat.
She did the last thing he expected from her usual fearful demeanor. She laughed. "You're a high born gentleman compared to the last pasha. And you saved me, if you don't remember."
"I can't remember much other than sand at the moment." he joked, though there was more of a dry humor to it.
"Well, I am very grateful." she said with a small smile.
Junebug now entered, having changed into more comfortable, casual clothes just as Neil had. Taya was a bit too worn out, and before she even took a shower, she grabbed a few bites to eat and three large jugs of water and escaped into her room. Neil did not know where Saxon was. Probably in the cargo bay.
"So, your highness..." Junebug began.
"I'm just a lady, not a princess." Indra replied sheepishly, looking down. Neil could tell she had only come here because she had no other place to go. Well, she might be up shit creek without a paddle but at least that wasn't an uncommon trait among the crew, so she had good company.
Junebug nodded with good patience, though it was clearly running thin. Her and Neil might be up and about but they were far too tired to be agreeable or conscientious. "So, you say Sven is after you. You do realize that you being here compromises us... not that he doesn't deserve it. That bastard could..." she stopped, and Neil shared a look with her, clearly having though along the lines of what she was thinking.
If they gave him the girl, he would give them enough resources to leave the planet.
The beautiful woman took a moment, but she realized just what they were thinking and almost got out of her chair to run before Junebug's sidearm was trained on her. The woman clutched herself desperately, fear mounting again. "Please!" she gasped. She might not be a princess but she certainly played the part of a damsel. "You don't understand, if you rescue me my father would pay you handsomely! Please!"
"Don't worry, we're not that heartless." the Captain said. "But I can't have you fleeing at the sight of something not going your way."
"We should keep our options open." Neil said casually, and when Indra couldn't tell if he was joking she looked at him in fear as well. He held his hands up, calming her with his next words. "Whoa whoa whoa, don't worry. Look, I didn't save you just to toss you to the wolves again." She visibly relaxed. Neil had to consciously not look at her voluptuous figure when she did so. "But we do need a way off this planet. Can we brainstorm without you thinking we'll fuck you over?"
She nodded, too exacerbated to speak.
"Cool. Now, how far away is Cyclopia?"
"Cylonieka" she corrected him. "Its in a nearby system."
"If we radioed your father, would he be able to send us support?" he asked her, confident that if they were out of range, Neil could go to the city scavenge yard and see if he could upgrade the comm system. To his and Sayeeda's satisfaction, she nodded emphatically. Now Neil really needed to not look at her bouncing body. Thankfully, he was too tired to have the energy to fantasize about anything right now. He'd need a good sleep, or at least he felt like relaxing, but then they could get to work.
And maybe talk about selling her to Sven without her in the room if all else failed, but he'd rather not do that. Hopefully, Junebug wasn't lying and had similar reservations about human trafficking.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug closed the medicomp around Taya's body and bought it live with a few touches of the holographic pad. Ordinarily the autodoc would have been overkill for sunburn and dehydration but Taya was very fair and hadn't been exposed to a lifetime of grueling physical activity the way Junebug had. The blond haired woman sighed immediately as salves and antiseptics were applied to her skin and intravenous hydration began to replace the fluids she had lost on the grueling march across the desert. Crossing to the pilot's seat she took a cup of water and downed it in single long pull thrilling to the feel of the cool water in her parched throat.
Neil had already gone to sleep but Taya was too burned and dehydrated to go quite yet. Sayeeda had opted to take the first watch, mostly because other than Saxon, she was the only person in any condition to do it. Lony confirmed that Saxon was in the hold, he seemed to be conducting some form of meditation, though from the way his nostrils and scales were flared, it had more to do with adapting to the new temperature than it did with finding inner peace.
Indra watched from the corner of the room. She was clearly tense, no doubt worried that the Highlanders might simply turn around and sell her to Sven. The woman's body was too perfect to be the result of natural processes, Junebug suspected genetic engineering rather than surgery but she wasn't an expert in such things. Few worlds that could afford such high tech luxuries were ever in the market for mercenary soldiers or at least they tended to the hiring for service on some much less well off colony worlds. If Sven was indeed after her, it was a miracle she was still free, coming to the Highlander was probably the one move the Cyborg wouldn't have predicted. That made her either extremely lucky or extremely smart and Junebug wasn't sure which one to go with just yet.
"You won't turn me over to him will you?" Indra asked as Junebug refilled her cup from the dispensing nozzle. Her voice had a vulnerable quaver that made even Junebug's pulse climb a few beats. She glanced sidelong at Indra trying to determine if this was a conscious effort to manipulate her, but she saw no guile in the woman's worried face.
"Look," Junebug began, searching for a way to make herself understood without making herself look like a monster.
"I'm a mercenary, but I'm a good one, if you contract my crew to get you off this dustball, than that is what we will do," she explained. It was unlikely that the woman really appreciated how seriously Junebug took her contracts but it was enough reassurance for Indra to break into a nervous smile.
"Do we need to sign paperwork or anything?" she asked in what Junebug thought might be a weak attempt at a joke. Instead of responding she reached out her hand.
"Let's make it a full repair of my ship and a million credits and you have yourself an extraction team," Junebug offered. As expected Indra grasped her hand and shook it firmly.
"So what does Sven want with you?" Taya asked unexpectedly. Junebug had forgotten the young aristocrat was in the room until the moment she spoke.
"I mean I can see what the old Pasha wanted but Sven… I didn't get the impression he was that interested in… in the normal human stuff." If Indra was ashamed of her previous slavery to the Pasha she didn't show it.
"I don't know what he wants, perhaps to ransom me to my father?" Indra supposed. Junebug shook her head. Whatever else Sven was, he was certainly ambitious, she doubted he would be happy being the tin pot dictator of one city on an insignificant dustball for long. Whatever he had in mind for Indra it would be a bigger play than a simple ransom.
"How will you get in touch with my father, if your ship cant fly?" she asked, more at ease now that the deal had been struck.
"She can fly," Junebug snapped, a little defensive at the idea that the Highlander was in that bad shape.
"Sorry, it's been a long couple of days," she apologised, draining another glass of water and refilling it.
"What I meant to say is that she can fly, it's just we can't inset into the RIP without some serious repairs. As for how we will get in touch with your father… " It was a fair question, there was no way to communicate between systems across interstellar distances. The usual protocol was to send message capsules, miniature spacecraft, or to have freighters and merchantmen carry news packets with them. As all systems paid a small fee to any ship transmitting a packet, most merchant ships did so as a matter of course, often allowing an automated system to handle the whole thing start to finish. There were rumors that the Terran had constructed a few array of quantum binaries, theoretical pairs of electrons, carefully separated so that they could use quantum entanglement to instantaneously transport data from one place to another, but that seemed more like campfire stories than anything Junebug was willing to put stock in.
"Neil really is the engineer on this boat," she admitted grudgingly. While she could work on most systems with the aid of her helmet, she just wasn't the same sort of tinkerer that Neil was.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil groaned, opening his eyes slowly. He was beyond glad that making it home wasn't a dream. The softness of the bed and the aching of his muscles showed he was back in the Highlander. And then the memories flied back into his head. The news about Sven, and the woman that was so gorgeous she couldn't be fully organic came back to him.
"Well, it's just like Sven to throw unexpected curveballs my way." he said. He rubbed his forehead when he slipped out of the bed. "Just don't hit on this woman. Doesn't matter that Junebug hasn't talked to you since you acted like a gradeschooler. Just fucking be cool, you can fix the Highlander and get everyone back to space. Maybe take a vacation after..."
He pulled his pants up, slipping a belt around his slim waist. Grabbing a button up, he flipped it to loosen the fabric up before slipping his arms through it. Opening the door without buttoning the shirt up, he stepped through. The corridor was empty, and he made his day down into the cargo bay to find any loose equipment he might have. "You've earned a vacation, right?" he asked himself aloud, his voice still husky from sleep.
"I think we both have," the angelic voice behind him said.
Neil nearly jumped out of his skin, the white shock taking hold for a moment before he caught himself. Indra looked embarrassed at her having startled him, placing her hands on her mouth. Neil had a hand on his chest when he looked aty her.
"I'm sorry" she said softly.
"No, no problem." He told her, regaining his composure. Just don't look at her. Also get yourself some water before you go downstairs to the Cargo bay. "You're good, I just woke up. It's ok." he told her, holding his hands up and smiling. He needed to treat her gently. She had just left sex slavery, after all. He couldn't imagine what that was like, particularly with the fat old Pasha he shot. Not to mention she had been on the run since Neil had released her.
"Just, make yourself at home-" he told her.
"People keep telling me that, I just want to help...if I can."
Neil hesitated. "Sure...um, do you know where the Cargo bay is? Ok it's down this hall and down the stairs. Get me some water and meet me down there with it. After being in the desert for over a standard week I still need some, please."
She nodded her head, lush waves of hair bouncing and she turned. Neil immediately looked away so as not to look at her ass as she did so, and he went downstairs to the Cargo bay where the scraps and the HMU-350 was located, along with a molting Saxon. Neil immediately let out a comical 'ugh' as soon as he saw the Hexanagallion. Armor off and curled upright, he looked like a Xenos Obelisk Statue that somehow was still covered in moisture. All of the appeal or terror of his armored form was gone. Not that his sleek, dark reptillian skin didn't look particularly menacing in a horrific sort of way. But he was now unresponsive, and Neil knew he would be for another day likely.
He shook his head and walked over to the scraps, looking for energy nodes and refurbished rehibilitater tubes. He didn't exactly have a 5 star plan, but he only had two options. One, he could somehow send a message to Indra's father's planet physically, and that would require sending an item through the R.I.P. which was perhaps possible, as it would require less power than the ship. Or two, he can try to send the message itself through timespace, which was...not possible to modern science but hey he was a dreamer. What he needed now was a piece of equipment that could be launched, and the node to power it.
Neil jumped out of his skin a second time in ten minutes when Indra screamed, glass shattering when she dropped the water.
"WHOA!" Neil cried, spinning at her.
"WHAT is that?" she asked, pointing at Saxon.
"Oh..." Neil sighed with relief. "Oh don't worry, he's just a big asshole. Well...not physically. I mean I'm sure he has one but still..."</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil groaned, opening his eyes slowly. He was beyond glad that making it home wasn't a dream. The softness of the bed and the aching of his muscles showed he was back in the Highlander. And then the memories flied back into his head. The news about Sven, and the woman that was so gorgeous she couldn't be fully organic came back to him.
"Well, it's just like Sven to throw unexpected curveballs my way." he said. He rubbed his forehead when he slipped out of the bed. "Just don't hit on this woman. Doesn't matter that Junebug hasn't talked to you since you acted like a gradeschooler. Just fucking be cool, you can fix the Highlander and get everyone back to space. Maybe take a vacation after..."
He pulled his pants up, slipping a belt around his slim waist. Grabbing a button up, he flipped it to loosen the fabric up before slipping his arms through it. Opening the door without buttoning the shirt up, he stepped through. The corridor was empty, and he made his day down into the cargo bay to find any loose equipment he might have. "You've earned a vacation, right?" he asked himself aloud, his voice still husky from sleep.
"I think we both have," the angelic voice behind him said.
Neil nearly jumped out of his skin, the white shock taking hold for a moment before he caught himself. Indra looked embarrassed at her having startled him, placing her hands on her mouth. Neil had a hand on his chest when he looked aty her.
"I'm sorry" she said softly.
"No, no problem." He told her, regaining his composure. Just don't look at her. Also get yourself some water before you go downstairs to the Cargo bay. "You're good, I just woke up. It's ok." he told her, holding his hands up and smiling. He needed to treat her gently. She had just left sex slavery, after all. He couldn't imagine what that was like, particularly with the fat old Pasha he shot. Not to mention she had been on the run since Neil had released her.
"Just, make yourself at home-" he told her.
"People keep telling me that, I just want to help...if I can."
Neil hesitated. "Sure...um, do you know where the Cargo bay is? Ok it's down this hall and down the stairs. Get me some water and meet me down there with it. After being in the desert for over a standard week I still need some, please."
She nodded her head, lush waves of hair bouncing and she turned. Neil immediately looked away so as not to look at her ass as she did so, and he went downstairs to the Cargo bay where the scraps and the HMU-350 was located, along with a molting Saxon. Neil immediately let out a comical 'ugh' as soon as he saw the Hexanagallion. Armor off and curled upright, he looked like a Xenos Obelisk Statue that somehow was still covered in moisture. All of the appeal or terror of his armored form was gone. Not that his sleek, dark reptillian skin didn't look particularly menacing in a horrific sort of way. But he was now unresponsive, and Neil knew he would be for another day likely.
He shook his head and walked over to the scraps, looking for energy nodes and refurbished rehibilitater tubes. He didn't exactly have a 5 star plan, but he only had two options. One, he could somehow send a message to Indra's father's planet physically, and that would require sending an item through the R.I.P. which was perhaps possible, as it would require less power than the ship. Or two, he can try to send the message itself through timespace, which was...not possible to modern science but hey he was a dreamer. What he needed now was a piece of equipment that could be launched, and the node to power it.
Neil jumped out of his skin a second time in ten minutes when Indra screamed, glass shattering when she dropped the water.
"WHOA!" Neil cried, spinning at her.
"WHAT is that?" she asked, pointing at Saxon.
"Oh..." Neil sighed with relief. "Oh don't worry, he's just a big asshole. Well...not physically. I mean I'm sure he has one but still..."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug stepped into the hold and opened her mouth an instant before Indra all but leaped into her arms. Instinctively she caught the woman around the waist with one arm, keeping the other free for a weapon for the half second it took her mind to analyze the situation and report that there were no threats. Saxon stood coiled in his odd posture, looking sleek and powerful without his almost ever present Awkwardly she bought her other hand up and supported the other woman, one arm around her shoulders the other looped under her knees while Indra turned and buried her face in Sayeeda's shoulder. She wasn't particularly heavy and her body was soft against Sayeeda's body, which, like Saxon was unusually bereft of armor, instead covered with a tank top with the winged knife of the Terran Marines, and a pair of khaki shorts.
Although she was clean, Junebug still looked an almost shocking contrast to Indra. Patches of skin at her shoulders and over her hips were rubbed raw from grit and the weight of her ceramic armor during the grueling march through the desert. Her hands were scratched from scrambling over rocks and her right hand bore a patch of synthetic spray seal where careless contact against a hot weapon had burned her. Numerous small scratches ran over her hands and up her arms where she had been cut on rocks, or injured in the firefight at the mesa. Where Indra was soft and sensual, Sayeeda was hard, wiry muscles coiled over her frame, allowing her to support the noblewoman without difficulty.
"No need to panic," Sayeeda said awkwardly, "Nothing is going to hurt you while you are on this ship." That might or might not be true. If Sven discovered she was here and stormed the ship, there might be little they could do to prevent it, but there seemed little point in sharing that with the panicked woman Indra clung to her looking unconvinced. Sayeeda gave her what she hoped was a reassuring smile and then gently disentangled herself, setting the woman back on the deck. Indra gave her a look, her lips curving up into a smile of appraisal that Junebug had seen before, though not in this exact situation.
"I had an idea," she explained to Neil, moving back to the business that had originally bought her to the hold. Moving past the noblewoman she took her helmet from the rack she had stowed it in and set it on the floor, then opened a refrigerated crate that hissed cold white vapor into the air. She drew forth three bottles of Terran beer, leftovers from the supplies the commandos had bought aboard, and tossed one to Neil then passed a second to Indra who looked mildly perplexed. Taking a seat on an ammunition crate she struck the cap off by driving it down against the metal edge of the crate with a crisp pop, the motion had the casual ease of long practice.
"Aid, squad briefing, project a map of the star port," she commanded before draining half of the beer in a single long swallow. It was ice cold, and pure ambrosia after the heat and thirst of the previous days. A hologram sprung into existence above the helmet, showing a picture of the dusty plate of sandstone on which they and several other ships currently rested. The footage was a composite, compiled by Lony from a variety of systems, mostly security camera feeds, that Taya had gained access to since their arrival. Computer finishing gave it the crisp accuracy of a high resolution satellite photo, right down to the various booths and stalls selling junk along the canyon walls.
"According to Taya these are the freighters Middle Finger and Lambruka," she said. Two of the freighters, both larger than the highlander, brightened on the display and the names appeared beside them. The Middle Finger was nearly twice the size of their own vessel, though considerably older.
"Both of these ships pretty much make the run between Hahn and Cyloneika, bringing manufactured goods in exchange for loot that pirates sell here," she explained. Indra brightened immediately at that news.
"So we can just take one of them home?" she asked eagerly. Neil frowned but Junebug was already shaking her head.
"Unfortunately both these ships are already being watched Sven's men," she explained. It was an obvious move and one Sven would not have failed to anticipate. He had probably checked in or surveilled most ships, in all likelihood it was only the fact that he knew first hand that the Highlander was in no condition to leave, that had kept Indra safe this long.
"I was thinking that maybe we could build some kind of device that would be able to attach itself to one of the ships, probably in orbit, that can either carry our message to Cylonekia, or maybe disable the ship long enough that we could fly the Highlander up and dock with it…"
Neil sucked in a shocked breath at the suggestion though Indra merely looked confused.
"You want to try to use of those ships to carry the Highlander through the RIP?" he asked, appearing genuinely horrified.
"Junebug you know… I mean… the RIP engines aren't calibrated to add another ships worth of mass to the jump profile. Sayeeda finished her beer and drew another from the ice chest, spreading her arms in an equivocal gesture.
"I'm just spitballing," she told him honestly, "you're the engineer afterall."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil laughed nervously, shaking his head. He picked up one of the ice cold beers and pointed at Sayeeda. "You know I usually like it when you're crazy, but don't joke about that." he told her, reclining back and taking a long swig of the brew. It burned going down in a pleasant sensation, and he gave a gasp when he was done. Indra seemed at the edge of her rope, with all of their plans coming up short. He didn't necessarily know what to do to make her feel better, but he felt the same way. Junebug's idea could never work, it...
"Wait..." he said, feeling a sense of wonderment as he plotted, realizing he had been thinking through this the wrong way. Junebug did have a good idea, even if it would have gotten them all torn into a trillion pieces and devoured by RIP beasts. He just needed to make it work. It was impossible to teleport to other systems, and it was impossible to send transmissions accurately instantaneously as well. But if they could somehow get on one of those ships without being noticed, they could hitch a ride.
"What?" Sayeeda asked, looking at him expectantly. Neil hadn't realized he had been quiet for some time. He was still doing the math in his head, calculating on if they had the right equipment, theorizing on how this would effect the RIP tide, if it would at all. It was almost as crazy to attempt what the Captain had suggested anyway, but this might make it possible to try it if they could get this to work.
Junebug snapped her fingers in front of his face, and sighed when he was still contemplating. Indra shrugged, not knowing what was wrong with him. "Neil, I am giving you an order to start talking." she said, leaning forward over the table, alcohol on her breath. "Answer me!"
Neil's mind finished processing, and he could almost hear an audible 'ding' once he realized it was possible. Neil could not contain his excitement. He suddenly grabbed Junebug by the hair and suddenly kissed her. Not giving her time to react, he looked right into her eyes. "You are a godsdamn genius, Junebug!" he exclaimed. He stood up and down the last half of his beer, giving an audible burp once he was finished.
Indra raised a hand as if she were in a classroom. "Um, excuse? What is happening right now?" she asked, somewhat taken aback but morbidly intrigued. Neil clamped the bottle back on the table. "Look, a RIP jump can't take more than a conceived, estimated amount of mass, right? So we couldn't dock on a ship, Sven owned or no, if the converter cannot take us through the RIP. So all we need to do, is to make sure we have no mass. Right?" His hands began to spin, signifying a rotating electron, though that would be lost on anyone but himself. "To do that we need an anti-gravity generator, because anti-gravity creates our own separate reality. Following me?"
He didn't wait to see if anyone was actually following him, and he continued to think out loud. "If you understand the full range of quantum mechanics, you can make anti-gravity. The tricky part is you can't observe it or you'll be entangled in the quantum field, and done in an anti-gravity machine can...create...a black hole..." he waved that away, dismissing the catastrophic possibility as if it was nothing. "But that's not going to happen. What will happen, if we transfer most of our remaining power to the generator is that it'll form a small reality where we float in real space, within the generator of Sven's ship. So it will be as if we have no mass. Goddamn I am a genius, and you are too!" he pointed at Junebug. "Gideon save me, ok we need to get started."
The following minute was spent with Neil explaining what types of scrap and lenses he would need, with Lonney filling in the blanks of Neil's techno-gibberish, though truth be told it was less techno and more Neil gibberish.</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil placed in a Y-Sec algorithm, the Highlander roaring as if it had a life of its own. Lonney popped up on the speaker, indicating wind speed and the daily temperature, something Neil needed to put into consideration when they had very little power to spare. The display monitor popped up a forward screen that showed the surrounding area. Various men continued to spray fire from different small arms. Neil noticed there was a mutant among them, big enough to be nearly Saxon's size with a shotgun that could like blow a hole in nearly anything except a space ship hull.
Indra, being completely ignorant as to what was happening, scrambled into the cockpit for reassurance. "What is going on?" She asked, clinging to the backseat chair. "Are we going? Can we make it!?"
The pilot didn't need an extra distraction, but he had always been good under pressure. He pulled the lever that began the lift off modem. "You know normally we would have no problems, but after seeing that three pronged alien sex organ, I am not certain what I'm capable of at the moment." He quipped, and with the bullets and las fire rattling against the hull, they lifted off and shot off toward orbit.
A huge crash was heard and an uncomfortable roar echoed. Neil grinned, knowing that was likely Saxon hitting a wall. Indra screamed and clung to the chair, and Neil could hear Taya's cry in the other chamber. He didn't hear Junebug, but he didn't need to. He had expected her to be too cool headed to scream. For his part, Neil laughed triumphantly. He'd not had a chance to fly in what seemed like ages, and the clear blue sky grew darker as they approached.
Soon, the gravity stabilized and then disappeared. Neil couldn't risk turning on the ship's normal gravity generator in fear of messing up the anti-grav machine they had created. Neil got the Captain on the comm. "Junebug, are you at the machine?" He asked, and he received confirmation. "Good. On my mark!" he called. He glanced backwards and saw Indra floating upside down, looking positively uncomfortable as she hung on to the seatbelt.
They were 43 kilometers away and closing in fast. Neil reoriented the radar to pick up any large bodies of material and energy to bring a hone on its position, and as they approached Neil counted down. "Ten...nine...eight..." Neil spun the Highlander, maneuvering it until it clamped onto the hull of the larger ship, bringing out the electromagnetic charge that would keep it stuck even through a R.I.P.jump.
They needed to move quickly so they weren't detected. "Three...two...now!" A large crack was heard, and suddenly the world shifted not unlike a R.I.P. jump, and the gravity stabilized once more. Neil had unbuckled as soon as it happened, and he caught Indra before she could hit the floor hard.
"Thank you," she breathed, shaking and getting in the chair.
"We didn't save you to have your head crack on the floor. Don't worry, babe." He told her casually, waiting for a moment to hear if something went wrong or out of the realm of their original plan. Nothing occurred, and it was sweet euphoria.
Neil breathed easier, grabbing his hair and sighing. "Gideon, I cannot believe that worked..." he said.
Indra's next words were incredulous. "What!?"</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The Highlander settled against the hull of the mega freighter with a soft clang. Powerful electromagnets, intended to tether the smaller vessel to docking platforms in low G or otherwise unstable situations, powered on and locked the ships together. Indra looked around incredulously.
"You mean you didn't know it would work?!" she demanded. Junebug shrugged her shoulders.
"The scientific method in action," she responded as diplomatically as she could, wondering if the woman would have preferred to stay on the ground while Sven and his men stormed the ship. Indra was her employer however so she maintained her professional demeanour.
"We could have all been killed," the beautiful woman hissed.
"But we weren't," Junebug replied. It was also true that the most dangerous part of this experiment was still ahead of them, though there seemed little point in advertising that to the already skittish Indra. Sayeeda glanced at her console, the holographic read out showed a pair of schematics in wireframe. One was the Karma Hazu as read by the Highlanders gravimetric sensors before they attached, the second was the post attachment read. The gravity rings rendered the Highlander essentially massless and the readouts confirmed that there was no significant difference in the Karma Hazu's mass to four significant figures. That in theory meant that the bigger ships RIP drive should carry them safely, but there was a world of difference between theory and practice.
"How long till they jump?" she asked Taya, correctly assuming that the girl had already penetrated the aged mega freighters onboard computer. Taya touched a button and a countdown clock, three hours and twenty five minutes flashed up on her screen.
"We left a little earlier than we planned," Taya reminded her.
"You don't think Sven will send ships to stop us do you?" she asked, glancing at the sensor board nervously. That was a reasonable enough concern. Under ordinary circumstances she would have said there was no chance that they could be traced to the Karma Hazu. Hahn had no orbital satellite network or sensor array but Junebug wasn't willing to bet that the crafty cyborg wouldn't be able to piece together what they were doing, his superhuman ability to synthesize trivial facts had just been demonstrated afterall.
"Taya can you make the Karma Hazu think its getting a broadband transmission from the planet?" she asked, turning her chair to face the blonde woman. Taya nodded and touched several keys.
"Its done," she replied. Sayeeda smiled, previously Taya might have asked questions before taking action. She was learning that in a tense situation there wasn't always time for a debate. An icon to engage a transmission appeared on Sayeeda's console and she touched it.
"All ships currently in orbit of Hahn, you are hereby the property of Sven Khan, planetary overlord of the Hahn system, heave to and prepare to be boarded!"
Junebug cut the comms with satisfaction. Indra stared at her with shock, her face suggesting that Sayeeda might have lost her mind.
"Taya cut, their receiving gear so they get no response to any hails."
Even as she spoke the big ships drives kicked to life and its bow began to swing ponderously. The countdown timer dropped to fifteen minutes as the freighter prepared for an emergency jump away from the perceived danger.
"Always bet on people running away if they have a chance," she explained with a satisfied smile.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil pointed at the Captain. "Exactly," he said, and hopped off the crate he had taken to sitting on, making his way over to the anti-grav machine. He knelt down and made sure everything was self contained and fully functioning. He tapped the four number code into the base module he'd placed on it. The power couplings seemed stable. Good.
Taya knelt beside him as Neil worked, looking over his shoulder. "Neil, are you sure this is going to work?" she asked, watching like a prey animal. Neil nodded. "Of course I'm sure. I wouldn't endanger all of our lives if I wasn't sure this was going to work. I'm just checking the power."
She looked wholly unconvinced, and he noticed it. He placed his wrench down and held his hands up. "Look, I realize I am an idiot." He said. "But I'm also a smart guy." Neil did his best not to listen to how ludicrously stupid his own words were, and he let Taya figure out how to take that as he picked the wrench up and continued working. Everything looked perfect. It was the sixth time he had checked so he didn't doubt it, but they were in the belly of the beast.
Taya walked up and hugged Indra, the stunning woman nervous but attempting to console the younger girl. Taya looked at Junebug. "You were always the best Captain."
Neil dropped his wrench again. "Look, there's always going to be risks but- y- OK fine! Let's go back to Hahn! That sounds like a good idea right!?" Neil stood up, his hand in the air dramatically. "There's only the planet-wide search of Indra and likely ourselves now, with rampant slavery and dervishes who we've fucked over. Let's just stay there! Sure I'll just detatch the ship and fly on back in. It's not like we'll be completely out of fuel by then. No biggie!"
Taya grumbled, realizing she was being a bit presumptuous on this being a hair-brained Neil scheme. Briefly, she wondered if she was simply taking after Indra's worry. She felt somewhat attached to the woman, her being the link to a life she had left behind. The girl took a breath, and realized that her team had made it through everything before. She had never heard of a R.I.P. jump being performed this way, but it was apart of their job, right?
Even Indra seemed less enthused about going back to Hahn than taking the deep dive into the void of hyperspace. She cringed at the very notion they go back to the planet. "We're with you. I'm just not used to...all of this."
Saxon entered the room, now fully encased in his armor. His massive three toed feet stamped into the Xarconian ground, and he looked around at each of them. His eyes fell on Indra. "Who is this one?" he growled. The woman blanched. Neil just shot back with "She's our next payoff, so try not to eat her." He turned away from Saxon and made a cutting motion with his hand, shaking his head and mouthing reassurances to Indra.
"Very well..." the Xenos said, cleary not understanding it was a joke. Which was more worrying, likely. "How long was I in hibernation?" Saxon rumbled.
"Five days," Junebug said. "But you woke up at the right time."
It was difficult to tell, but it looked as if Saxon was grinning. Neil didn't know if it was from Junebug's approval or him thinking of the violence he had inflicted once he had awoken. The pilot still had a hint of jealousy over the proclamation he might be attracted to her, but he knew it was just his head messing with him. At least in this instance. Saxon would choose the 'joys' of bloodshed over a mate any day of the week.
Something shifted in the air. The crew felt it, and despite their being reassured, Taya and Indra looked nervous. Junebug glanced up, calling the AI. "Lonney, are we about to enter the R.I.P?" she asked.
"No Captain." Lonney said, which prompted her to ask why there was that strange shift. Neil blinked, realizing what it was. "Lonney, are we in the R.I.P.?"
"Yes."
"Fuck yes!" Neil said, pumping his arm. "We didn't even feel it!" The sensation of being hurled through the alternate dimension only gave them a slight shutter. They were smoothly going on their destination.</s>
|
<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Now that he had some downtime, Neil decided to work on the hauler he had neglected for the past few weeks. He knew he had responsibilities to the Highlander and its crew, being first mate and the pilot and all. But mechs had always been a large part of his life and previous career. Something about him still called back to when he was a soldier and mech fighter, for the relatively brief amount of time it was.
He turned some music on with the room stereo. He'd rigged up a music system in the Highlander, personalized to play different songs in different rooms so as not annoy Sayeeda and Taya when Neil wanted to rock on. He was still a bit bemused that this music was archaic to them, as they had just arrived on Fotus in recent years. But that was how the universe worked, he guessed.
You weren't supposed to drink copious amounts of alcohol in the R.I.P., but he still had a frosty drink out as he worked. Shirtless, he worked on the left arm rig, making sure the steel was welded correctly. Sparks bounced across his arms as he tightened the coils by melting a bit of the steel. He still had to add the main power core, and he could definitely equip some more accesories. The jump stabilizers needed some heavy work too, but otherwise it was a workable machine. Honestly he could move and fight with it now, as it had its own power core. But the engine wasn't enough for what Neil had planned.
Turning, he dropped the welder to pick up a wire realignment tool before he noticed Indra was in the room with him. He was glad he was slightly buzzed, or he might have tripped over something in surprise. "Code 001" he said, and the music shut off immediately. Indra held her dainty hands up apologetically.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to stop you." She said, sitting on one of the barrels. It was annoying how beautiful she was. She somehow became even more attractive when she smiled.
"I don't mind an audience, but do you need something?" Neil wondered, wiping the oil off his hands with a cloth. "Most people don't like my music." he grinned.
"It's...not bad, honestly. There's a certain melancholy to it. I've never heard of it before." She confessed as he put his shirt on. He might be a helpless scoundrel, but she was royalty. "What do you call it?"
"It's grunge," he told her. "And did you need something?"
"No," she said, though she seemed to be holding something in. The woman stood up. "It was either here or in the cargo area where the...alien lurks. He looks at me as if he wants to eat me, and I think he does. Plus I like watching people work. Particularly on specialized things like...whatever this is."
"Well, I am happy to know I'm only the second worst thing on the ship," He said, clearly joking. She laughed. Neil had worked on the hauler enough for now. He reached into his bag and pulled out a deck he hadn't used in awhile, holding it up to Indra.
"Wanna play cards?" he asked.
"Cards? I've never-..."
"I figured, but it's easy. I promise." He said.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
It took nearly a week for the Karma Hazu to complete the voyage to Cylonieka. Partly this was to do with the distance as Hahn was an unusually isolated system, but mostly it was because the megafreighter simply didn't accelerate to the kind of speeds that would be a matter of course for smaller vessels like the Highlander. Without friction there was no practical limit, short of the speed of light, to the speed a vessel could attain, but even in zero gravity inertia had to be accounted for. There was little point in accelerating for two or three days to build up speed, and then decelerating for the same amount of time, if it would only save you two or three days in transit even before you factored in the cost of fuel you had expended.
"Extracting," Taya reported as the countdown clock on her terminal flicked down the last few seconds. Sayeeda felt her soul leave her body as the ship continued to accelerate away from her, attenuating her for long and agonising seconds before she snapped back into place. Indra, sitting in one of the infrequently used jumpseats was moaning quietly and Taya appeared gray and vacant for a moment before she blinked and straightened up. Neil and Saxon seemed unaffected by the extraction, though that was as likely to be because their discomfort was more internal than that it hadn't occurred. Science was unable to adequately explain the hallucinations and delusions that accompanied transitions to and from the RIP but no sentient race yet discovered was immune to the effect. That an effect was so consistent across so many radically different biologies kept philosophers babbling but in practical terms it just meant all races found space travel equally unpleasant.
The Highlander shuddered as the Karma Hazu began to fire its attitude thrusters, correcting its course toward the systems distant sun. Precision jumping over long distances was not easy and all but the most elite naval units usually had to make a supplemental jump with more accurate positioning data to arrive at their destiation. Fortunately for the Highlander, luck appeared to be on the side of the Karma Hazu and her unwitting passenger as they were less than a light minute from the primary world of the system.
The Cylonieka system had six planets ranging from a sunbaked rock that was perpetually bathed in the light of the systems blue white star, to an icebound dustball barely ensnared by its gravity. Unusually, the system boasted two habitable worlds, Cylonieka itself, a primarily ocean world scattered with thousands of islands ranging from a few acres to several thousand hectares, and Coreyana, a moon of the gas giant Covax. Coreyana was a volcanically active moon, with wild crags and impressive mountain ranges. Although it had been terraformed at some point in the past, it remained sparsely populated.
Unlike Hahn, the system teemed with traffic and the Highlander's sensor board lit up with dozens of contacts. Cylonieka itself was a producer of export grade protein, mostly deep sea krill that were gathered by the ton by large automated submersibles before being processed on the surface. The world also boasted a chemical and electronics industry, largely reliant on mining on the more mineral rich Coreyana and the asteroid belt that had developed around the gravity well of the gas giant. Intra-system freighters coasted along the orbital approaches, in weeks or month long arcs before orbital tenders carried the ores down to the surface to be processed.
"Alright lets ditch this cow and be on our way," Neil said with a grin. Indra smiled lusciously at the pilot as he worked the controls and the Highlander shuddered as the gravity rings sucked her up and away from the Karma Hazu. The mega freighterer began to fall away as it fired its breaking thrusters, though Taya's sensor program meant they would probably remain unaware of their former passenger. Junebug watched Indra thoughtfully. The woman had spent a considerable amount of time with Neil in the past week and she wasn't sure what if anything she should make of it.
"Should we broadcast to someone?" Taya asked as Neil fiddled with their course bringing them in to a long orbit of Covax to scrub velocity from the ship.
"I have private codes that will allow us to land at my families island," Indra replied, "I was kidnapped once and would rather not announce that I am back."
Indra had been somewhat reticent about how exactly she had been kidnapped but as she was paying that did not particularly concern Sayeeda.
"So long as they aren't going to shoot us down on the way in," Junebug commented. Indra waved her hand dismissively.
"My father values discretion," she explained.
"Ships come and go from our island all the time, we also have a repair facility there, it is small but it should be sufficient to meet your needs," she assured them.
"You have your own shipyard?" Sayeeda wondered aloud.
"Politics on Cyloneika is very fractured Captain, most of the major houses have learned that it is best to be as self sufficient as possible, lest a political intrigue cut you out of some vital resources."
"Powerful noble families, no strong central government, what could go wrong," Sayeeda observed wrly. The ship began to shudder as it orbited the gas giant, an impressive swirl of blue white and gray, before settling into a ballistic course that would put them in orbit above Cylonieka itself within a half hour.
"Is there really enough shipping to make it worth it?" Taya asked curiously. Indra nodded.
"My family owns dozens of vessels, and our clients hundreds more, besides the facilities are also used to maintain submersibles. Trust me, you will find everything you need to repair your ship just as soon as you have delivered me home."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"Well that's good news for me because I have been meaning to get a chance to fix the ship for awhile," Neil said, his mind now exploring the possibilities of working on the Highlander. Yes, mechs were his passion, but there was a class to fixing a starship that you couldn't match. He switched off the main power to let the ship slingshot toward the planet at the proper speed to gain the orbit velocity. To see the planet of Cylonieka with the lights dimmed was breathtaking.
It was a blue and green marbel, and Neil whistled. The oceans were vast. It was almost an ocean world, except for the innumerable archipelagos and a myriad of robust islands of mountains and forests. They looked to be the closest things to continents on world. Taya gasped at the sight, her hands clapping onto her mouth. "It's beautiful!" she said, before Lonney pipped in, detailing the planets basic aspects.
"Cylonieka. The surface is 89% water. The atmosphere is 76.01% nitrogen, 22.95% oxygen, 1.01% argon, 0.04% carbon dioxide, and small traces of other gases. Gravity is the galactic average. Main exports are seafood, Cyloniekan wine, textiles, and art. It has 4 moons. Vastus, Regonieda, Kulvor, and Rexus respectively."
"Military?" Junebug asked, and Neil listened more intently. He was interested too.
"The Island nations hold their own ground forces through fiefdom loyalty. They do not use the Corp organization, as they don't have sufficient landmass for such a large body of soldiers. They separate themselves intp separate divisions and, more rarely, regiments. They have advanced Anti-Air and Orbital defenses, and formidable navies. However, these are only in reference to the Island nations. The archipelagos are controlled by lesser militia or Paramilitary groups."
"Thieves and pirates," Indra spat, her full lips snarling in distaste. The planet grew larger on the display, and Neil suddenly realized the breadth of what the intrigue had to be like in such a divided world. Neil chuckled at Indra's words, though. "You act like it's a bad thing." He said, smirking. He turned the thrusters on for a moment to slow their descent, and within moments they were caught in the planet's orbit, taking a short time to float across the surface of the planet before they were above her home Island.
"Well, some commit acts with better style," She conceded, and then she gasped and pointed at the screen. "There!" She stood up and leaned forward, her large bosom pressed to Neil's shoulder, and suddenly his heart began to race as fast as it had when he'd been working on the mech, or last she smiled at him. She pointed at the screen. "There, see it? It's the one that looks like a crab from above. Do you see?"
Incredibly, Neil did see it, despite her long dark hair dangling in front of his eyes. "Yeah, but we need to stay in our seats for safety."
"Sorry," She said, and plopped down. "I got excited. I haven't been here in months."
"I'm excited too!" Taya said, and she and Indra began to talk about all they would do once they landed, Indra adding in the sights she wanted to show Neil and asking if she could watch him repair the ship. Neil had to pipe in. "We might want to add we have a Hexanagallion on the ship. He might be ugly, but he still counts. Let's tell your father's men not to shoot him."
"Oh, my father would probably want to hire him." Indra said, snorting. Neil could see the logic in it. Hex's made for incredible mercenaries and shock troops. Though Saxon was less...agreeable than most Hexanagallions. Sure, they weren't a race known for their happy-go-lucky attitudes, but Saxon worked alone, even away from others of his species. He was glad the Xenos wasn't in here now. He'd given up trying to squeeze into the cockpit corridor. "I'm certain he'll want to extort all of you to some extent, though he'll probably let up for you saving me." It was obvious she was exaggerating to a degree, but still something good to note. Neil placed in the codes Indra gave him, and phoned in the request.
As they lowered onto the planet surface, the world blew up in their vision until they could see nothing but ocean. Minutes passed as they slowly glided lower and lower until they passed a small mountain that scythed out of the surface of the ocean to reveal the sprawling palace of Indra's home.
Impressive spires of opulent design framed the location, with various circular pads to land on for any approaching ship. They could see their surface to air missiles lowering, having locked on only to be called off as the Highlander used the last of its power to lower and slowly land atop the highest landing bay of the Palace, unevenly clanking against the pristine surface as its module ran out of juice.
"Think they got bathrooms here?" Neil joked.</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"Be grateful, patriarch, that she was not harmed enroute." Saxon rumbled threateningly. That certainly changed the mood from happy to ominous. Neil kicked the Hex's leg, in one of the areas where it was unarmored. It still didn't really harm the Xenos, but it made him slightly uncomfortable and he cast a baleful gaze at Neil. It was what Neil intended, because the pilot mouthed the words. "We. are. here. to. help." And he gave the most sarcastic smile one could imagine.
"I am grateful," her father said, looking past the Xeno's words, taking his measure of the crew. As he did so, Neil took his measure of the sweet plasma pistols the guards carried. They looked ion charged. Even wearing carapace armor, one would be hardpressed to survive a shot from one of those babies. He wondered why the guards were women, as well. Not for any sexist prejudices, but he hadn't expected a feminine culture when the father looked to be the one calling the shots.
"My name is Gredorius Fullwark, and this is my wife, Gabriella." He said, motioning a hand to the lovely well dressed woman, who gave a light curtsy. Indra had inched up closer to her father, as if to reel him in if he got too ambitious or angry at her saviors. Neil wasn't sure they were making a good impression, so he couldn't rightly blame her worries over it. The Pilot wore a black T-shirt he often loved, with a Mecha on it that said 'Metal as Fuck'. Her father didn't seem to mind, continuing. "Before I gather your names, what was the price my daughter promised you for returning her to us safely?"
"Fuel for our ship." Neil pipped in first, wanting to start off small. "Access to your shipyard and time to repair it."
"And 50,000 galatic credits for the trouble." Junebug finished with.
At that, Gredorius gave a menacing chuckle, though his face had not changed expression. "I see you're not greedy. Good, perhaps this will be a fruitful exchange."
Neil didn't know if the admiral looking fellow was fucking with them, but then he recalled that the mercantile wealth of any individual Island nation here was astronomical compared to most mid-tier worlds. 50,000 was a fair price for the Highlander, but just low enough to be mere pocket change for someone like Indra's father. "Come, we will get all of you situated." The man said, motioning them forward.
Taya practically bounced. She was all for a vacation, and she gave a curtsy of her own. "Thank you, my Lord."
"It is your Grace, but fear not. I can grant a small measure of leeway to rescuers of my daughter."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda awakened on warm sheets so smooth they felt liquid against her tan skin. The dinner the previous night had been sumptuous in the extreme. Courses of seafood, ground fowl and other delicate meats competed with pastries, shaved chocolate and pies filled with sweet tart berries. The feast had been paired with wines of a dozen styles and worlds of origin, all of which would have cost as much as Sayeeda would have made in a month, or six months when she had been a Captain in Andor's Armored. Gabriella and Gredorius had toasted their daughters return from her 'travels' and thanked her 'friends' for conveying her home safely and for their 'loyal service' whilst she had been away. It was obvious that the fact Indra had been kidnapped was being kept quiet for political reasons, though Sayeeda neither knew nor cared what the were. Junebug did not know much about wine, but she did know a lot about drinking and after eight or nine toasts it all tasted pretty much the same.
Unfortunately the aftereffects were also similar. Sayeeda let out a groan and rolled over to curl up in the fetal position. She was dressed in her bra and the formal silk skirt she had worn the night before and had a vague memory of marching arm and arm down the hallway to her suite with Taya who was expansively detailing her claim to the ancient and defunct throne of Fornax. After a few minutes she marshalled the will to crack open an eyelid.
The room was sumptuously appointed with high ceilings and floors that seemed to be sheets of solid marble, though that was doubtlessly a cast rather than a natural occurrence. Tall arches looked out over a balcony with a stunning view of the sea and the steep drop down to the beach. There was a slight shimmer around the edges of the archways, a tell tale sign of sophisticated force fields that kept weather out without compromising the aesthetics.
Vases of fresh cut flowers stood on ornately carved wooden furniture, apparently out of the same fir trees that lined the mountainside. A side board of expensive looking liquor lined one wall, above which were a series of old fashioned paper books. On the bedside table lay a silver platter on which sat a high end but otherwise perfectly normal drug infuser. A folded card beside it was marked 'use it in good health'. Sayeeda made an undignified scrambled for the infuser, pressed it to her wrist and triggered it. There was a sharp hiss as the contents pumped into her veins. Anti-hangover cures varied tremendously throughout the galaxy and Sayeeda had tried many, but for personal choice an alcohol kelator paired with a hydration agent and a non-narcotic analgesic, couldn't be beat. She felt better almost immediately and within a minute or too she was on her feet.
The room was equipped with a large bathroom including a hot tub and a shower. She luxuriated under cool water, allowing it to wash the dust of Hahn away. It felt like the first time she had been clean in weeks and she spent a good twenty minutes allowing the water to dispel the last of her hangover.
"Sayeeda?" came a call from the main room. Sighing she terminated the shower sequence and wrapped a towel around her waist and chest, and quickly towled her hair dry. She stepped back into the main room to find Neil waiting in the antechamber.
"Whats up?"</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil hadn't had quite the relaxing time Taya and Sayeeda had. Though he had to say, it was better than anything Hahn would have for him. He'd eaten like a pig at a trough with the rest of the crew. Even Saxon had a small (in a word) place ordained for him to eat at the end of the table. A small spherical area had raised up from the ground, seeming almost to be a cage were he not stated to be a guest.
However, Indra and her parents had disappeared halfway through the meal, letting the crew eat at their leisure. After having nothing but dwindling rations, they had an incredibly satisfying meal. Once it was done, they broke out the drinks. And that was when Neil was grabbed by one of the servants and guided out of the room as Junebug and Taya were two bottles in, and Saxon had a reptilian food coma after having gouged five times the amount the other three had eaten, combined.
He found himself being taken to a balcony, where Gredorius stood, standing vigil over his realm as if he needed to watch it at all times. What followed was a conversation that had even Neil trying to behave. He made sure to stand up straight, clear his throat and even did his best to not scratch himself in less than public places upon his anatomy. It was odd, because he didn't know why the Duke was speaking to him, asking him about his goals, business prospects, and how good of a pilot he was.
And then he made the offer.
Cut to now, with Neil standing outside of Junebug's quarters akwardly. He had expected her to be in some manner of disheveled undress, but seeing her fit body in nothing but a towel had his eyes widen for a moment before he could rightly find the words he was trying to say.
"Sorry I wasn't around to drink earlier, but...seeing as you're Captain I thought I'd run by a big decision and...offer I was given by the Duke." He said, deliberating for a moment before continuing. "Once the repairs are made on the Highlander, he wants to hire us for a merc job."
"That's great news, but why are you bringing this up now and not in the morning?" She asked.
Neil took a deep breath. "In exchange, he'll double our 50,000, and make us both high ranking officers in his administration. He also will give you a specialized plasma weapon they have been working on, which I recommended. And he also wantsmetomarryIndraperherrequestandbeinductedintotheirfamily."
"WHAT!?"
"LOOK. I NEVER SAID YES!"
He realized they were both yelling at the dead of night. He looked around and then spoke more quietly. "Look..." He sighed and crossed his arms, clearly not in his usually smooth comfort zone. "I don't marry people I just met. Do I think Indra is cool? Yes. Hot? Everyone does. But I'm bringing it up and talking alot because I am uncomfortable with my next question which is, should I say no?"
"I know we never talked after Hahn, after the whole...thing before we got caught up with the Dervishes and I got the hoverboard. So don't bullshit me. Do you have a problem with his offer for me?"</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
During her life Sayeeda had survived by making split second decisions. If an artillery strike had crashed into the room, if an extraction team had breached the door with explosives, if a sniper had opened fire, she would have known what to do. Neil's words however, caught her completely flat footed. A number of details settled into place in her mind, the female guards, the respect paid to Gabriella, a dozen snatches of conversation at the feast. Cylonieka passed its nobility down through the female lines, but marriage to other nobles was prohibited, perhaps due to genetic concerns, or just because the political reality could not continue if the isolated island states began to knit together through matrimonial alliances. Instead they chose husbands for their skills and perhaps for their aesthetic value as well. Administrators, Admirals, and, apparently, mercenary pilot types.
Junebug sat back on her bed in confusion struggling to take it all in. She hadn't had a chance, or more truthfully had been refusing to take the time, to sort out her feelings for Neil since their brief conversation on Hahn. Now she found herself confronted with the question point blank with an immediate response required. It took a moment to wipe the chagrin off her face and return to her normally controlled look.
"Neil if you say no it might jeopardize our agreement with…" she began but he rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in frustration.
"For once in your life stop thinking about the mission or whatever it is in your head and tell me how you feel!" the last few words were bitten out like rounds snapping out of a machine gun. Junebug was silent for a long moment.
"Neil I…" she looked away unwilling to meet his eyes for a moment. Unfortunately the beautiful artwork hanging on the wall didn't provide any answers.
"Look I think I'm wrong… you know in the head," she explained tapping the side of her temple in emphasis.
"I don't know if its some sort of combat fatigue or if I was always like this ," she went on turning back to look up at the pilot.
"Neil, I do care about you and if I'm being honest, more than care, but I don't think I have it in me to make anyone happy." Her smile was bleak and her body shuddered as she made the admission, her dark eyes uncharacteristically vulnerable.
"You shouldn't throw away the chance of a lifetime on a batshit burnout like me."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
That wasn't the response he had been expecting. He'd imagined she might have pulled rank on him, or maybe brushed it off like she always had. But this was different, and it was more intimidating than the other two options. Did she really think that she was more of a basket case than he was!? He figured the amount of explosions and problematic decisions he'd caused would have tipped her off. But it seemed like she had stuff she hadn't even begun to unpack.
Tomorrow he would regret not telling her she was wrong, and he didn't kiss her right here. But no matter what he thought, she hadn't given him a yes, and he wouldn't hold it against her. Even vulnerable, she had his respect. He held his hand out for her to shake, and he had on a solemn look. "Friends," he told her, and when she shook his hand back, he continued with. "Just remember, if it doesn't work out with Indra, or you change your mind, you have my number." He had on his signature grin then.
"Now get out of here before someone asks why you're talking to me in nothing but a towel." She said, her usual control back. He gave her a salute, and he pulled his jacket around him tighter and made his way toward her door, before he stopped and paused.
"Once the Highlander is fixed, we'll go and probably die for a treasure most people could ever dream of...where have I heard that one before?" he said.</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil had walked out of the room, his mind abuzz with if he had said the right thing or the wrong thing. Of course he had said and done the wrong thing. When had he ever actually said the right thing when it was important? All he knew how to do was bullshit. He made it out of the door, and once he closed it, he leaned on it heavily and even slid down it to plop onto the floor. Rubbing his eyes, he groaned.
Why did he have to obsess over things? Particularly things he was regretful about. "Look, you did it because she didn't want you to mess up the deal. Don't fuck this up. You made the right call." He told himself, but he knew he didn't believe it. Junebug was wanting him to disagree with her and he rolled right over because he thought it was what she wanted. "Don't focus on this shit, just get up and go back to bed, idiot."
"Beg pardon?"
Neil jerked, looking like a stray dog that had been kicked out of the front door, his hair wild from running his hands through it. The servant who had found him looked at him skeptically, and they both looked at the doorknob. Neil blinked. "I uh, I can't get into my room." He lied, and the servant took the bait, replying with. "That is because this isn't yours, Master Edwards. Yours is down the hall and to the left. Allow me to escort you."
"Thanks," he said, getting to his feet.
---
Neil sleep was troubled, having dreams he never would have gotten, even in Hyperspace. For some reason, changing realities wasn't hard on his brain but fucking up with a girl he...liked? Loved? It messed with him. His dreams switched between Junebug ordering his expulsion from the Highlander to having her order Saxon to kill him, and while realistically he knew neither would ever happen, it didn't make his subconscious any more comfortable.
He woke up to the sun suddenly streaming through his window, and the covers were pulled off of him as a soothing voice said "wake up, sleepy head."
He opened his eye, and saw Indra there, as beautiful as another 3 hours of sleep, wearing a simple white top and form fitting breeches. She poked his nose. "Come on, we have breakfast ready and then we're going to the beach." She said, pulling at his arm. He had almost forgot he was shirtless and his hair even wilder than it had been last night. "I'm so excited to show you all around the island. Let's go!"
He felt like he was in one of Taya's melodrama Vidcasts.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Junebug!"
Sayeeda turned to see Taya hurrying up behind her. The young noblewoman was dressed for breakfast, wearing a single piece swim suit that wrapped her in a series of slashes allowing her pale skin to peak through in a dozen places while preserving her modesty. Junebug had donned her own swimsuit, a two piece in a pale white that set off her tanned skin, though for the moment she was also wrapped in a sari of light blue silk.
"What is wrong?" Taya asked as she fell into step. Sayeeda shrugged, Neil obviously hadn't told her his news as yet and it wasn't her place to share it.
"Rough night I guess," Sayeeda explained, which was true, though probably not in the sense Taya understood it.
"You were really putting it away there, I was glad we didn't have a repeat of the panties incident," Taya jibed Junebug smiled as the younger woman led her down the path towards the beach. To her surprise the air was noticabley warmer here and she could see a small pavilion had been erected on the sand below. Feathered palms waved in a gentle breeze and as they reached the bottom of the stone steps. Indra and Neil were not yet present but the Chancellor and Gabriella were already sitting at a small table drinking water from tall fluted glasses.
"Ah, Captain, Marquessa, a pleasure to see you this morning," Gabriella called. Both of them were dressed in bathing suits, Gabriella a red two piece that showed off her considerable assets and her husband in swim shorts. He might be an administrator but his stomach was flat and tan, evidence that he worked to maintain is rugged good looks.
"Warm weather for a wrap around my dear," Gabriella said with a smile to Junebug. Sayeeda removed her sari to display her bare midriff. Gabriella stiffened with surprise. The skin was mottled in places and three promient plugs of scar tissue stitched her from right hip to her left flank above her belly button. The noble woman looked embarssed by Sayeeda only shruged.
"I was burned a few years back, and these," she explained, fingering the scars.
"Hyper velocity armor penetrators. I was manning a gunnery station and the first shot through me into the air before they riddled me," she explained, trying to keep her mind away from laying in the dusk of Kymnara, bleeding out as her vehicle was ripped to pieces twenty meters away.
"And you didn't get surgery?" Gabriella asked, clearly curious.
"Medics did the best they could," Sayeeda explained, aware that the idea of not getting cosmetic surgery done was alien to her audience.
"For some reason the synthetic skin never quite counterfeits the real thing."
"A warrior is marked by their scars, they are a mark of pride," Saxon grated. The hex sat up, having been buried in the sand nearby. The golden flecks streamed off him as he stood, clearly having been bathing in the stuff. Membranes closed sideways to clear his eyes as he stood. The approval of the scars clear in his voice and in the way his throat sacks puffed out.
"Thank you Saxon," Sayeeda said politely.
"Mostly I was just happy to not be splattered over half an acre of countryside they way I would have been if they had punched through my LAV and started spinning before they hit me," she admitted, giving the Hex a wry smile.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil had been taken to a large dressing room, where Indra clapped and over a dozen servants took his measurements, washed his hair, and put swimming trunks on him, all at the same time miraculously. His bride-to-be waited outside for him, the servants hustling to please her as much as anything, regardless of how they handled Neil.
He was practically shoved out of the dressing room, but as per his style, he had managed to grab a pair of sunglasses off a rack. Indra placed her hands together, delighted at how he looked. Neil was delighted at how she looked too, in her two piece red bikini with a translucent sarong around her ample hips. He wished he could enjoy it more, but he still had last night in his head.
"Let's go," she said, grabbing his hand. "I want to show you the beach."
"Whoa whoa, wait wait," he said to her, keeping grounded. She looked back at him, confused and curious.
"You do know your parents want me to marry you, right?"
"Yes...?" she said.
"That's not our custom on my planet, so...we should take it slow. Ok?" he asked her, gauging her reaction. She seemed to sober, looking down and nodding. She pulled him to the side of the hall, looking around. "Look, Neil...my father needs me to be married. I suggested you because, well I like you. I like you, and you wouldn't use me...would you?"
Neil sighed. "No, I wouldn't."
Indra smiled. "Let's go. You'll relax more on the beach."
Spoiler warning, he did not relax more on the beach. Rather, seeing Sayeeda flirting with Saxon had his blood boiling, though he tried not to show it as Indra showed him to her parents and walked him up and down the beach. The worst part, other than the obvious, was that if this was any other time he would be enjoying her company. What's more, he had a feeling that Junebug knew she was annoying him, and he knew he needed to get some energy out.
"Do you guys surf?" Neil asked Indra when they sat down next to her parents. Her mother raised an eyebrow. "Surf?"
"Yeah like, ride the waves on a board?"
"Waveboarding?" Indra asked, and Neil theorized it had to be the same thing. "That sounds right. Do you guys have a board?" Neil used to be one of the best surfers among his group of friends back on Fortus. It was his natural agility and his lack of self preservation that really helped him on the waves. Indra seemed ecstatic to watch him surf, and once he got a board it took him no time to make it to the water. To think, 10 days ago he was on a desert planet thinking he would never want to see the sand again. and now he was running across the sand to leap into the ocean.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Indra clapped her hands excitedly as Neil paddled out on his board. The waves immediately began to grow in intensity as hidden grav panels buried beneath the sea floor began to agitate the water. Junebug realised that the unseasonably warm water must be a deliberately created condition. The amount of money that was required in order to achieve such an effect was staggering, especially as this place seemed to be the private preserve of Indra's family.
"Were you just flirting with Saxon?" Taya asked sotto voche. Junebug glanced at the girl, she had merely been polite to the Hex in her mind.
"Not deliberately," she responded. Taya nodded with some relief on her face.
"Good because Neil looked none too happy about it," she observed. Junebug gave the young noblewoman a speculative glance.
"Yeah well Neil dosen't get to control who I flirt with," she responded, her voice a little tighter than she had intended. Taya looked a little chagrined, having clearly stumbled into territory about which she knew nothing. Indra cheered as Neil caught a wave and began to ride it in towards the shore.
"Hey Saxon," she called. The lizardman's head swiveled towards her, forked lounge questing as though tasting the air.
"I have a few questions about your people," she began.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil had nearly hit an Algodade, one of the semi-aquatic giraffe like creatures that fed on both normal and underwater vegetation. Its head had popped up out of the water at just the wrong second, but Neil had managed to maneuver out of its way to keep himself from falling off, and from putting another damaged creature's life on his conscience. The maneuver sent him in a spin over a wave, impressively keeping his balance and landing to slide across the following tide toward the shallows.
Indra and her parents gave an applause, even her father seemed somewhat approving of his agility. Neil was just glad he still had it in him, though his happiness would be short lived when he saw Sayeeda poking at Saxon's arm, a curiosity evident in her eyes.
"What does your language sound like? I never asked," the Captain said with interest. Taya, having grown tired of tanning, had gone over to speak to Indra, taking her attention for the moment. Saxon's neck glowed a faded red, and his dewlap extended. Neil knew far more about Hexanagallions than most people, and it didn't sit well with him. She might as well have an extended dewlap neck too by the way she smiled.
None of my business though, he thought, trying to walk past them.
Goddamn, this was a big beach. Goddamn, he wished there was WIND, so he didn't have to listen to it.
Saxon began to do what could best be described as a warbling call that banged at the eardrums of anyone within 2 dozen yards, of which Neil was in the blast radius. Somehow, Sayeeda didn't seem to mind other than give a small wince. "Interesting...and what's your home planet like?"
Neil turned, unable to handle the rest. But he continued, describing the tropical wetland of a world his species evolved on. The world was evidently high gravity and filled with monstrous beasts, where only the strong survive.
He decided to walk away when Saxon began describing his early life. He'd read it all before, and he didn't like the gleam in Sayeeda's eye, though she did well to look at Neil when he wasn't looking to make sure he was in ear shot, until he wasn't.</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"Isn't it wonderful?" Junebug asked, her face plastered with a smile that could only fool those bewildered like Taya, who honestly didn't know what to think. She had always pushed for Neil and Junebug to stop running circles around each other, but...if he was getting married.
Before 'business' could begin, Indra grabbed Neil and kissed him full on the lips in celebration, much how Neil had kissed Junebug not two weeks ago when they had managed to get off of Hahn. Neil flailed, not entirely knowing where to put his hands or what to do at all, being kissed in public and in front of Junebug, and also before their was even an agreement!
"So, what we offer Neil is obvious." Indra's mother said without even looking. "What we offer you is a very prized, highly sought after plasma weapon. A new rifle we are developing. My husband can give you the details." She said, and gaudily sipped her wine glass. Meanwhile, Saxon had begun to dig a very large hole in the sand a few paces off to the west for some unknown xenos purpose. It almost looked like a hole that a terran sea turtle would dig to lay eggs, but Neil knew that even with his alien biology, the Hexanagallion males didn't lay eggs.
Junebug's vision of Indra kissing Neil would be replaced by a portable vidcaster Gredorius placed in front of her face. It was a triple action, burst fire carbone. Triple action meaning the third action was DNA specific, and only she would be allowed to fire it. It also didn't necessarily fire plasma rounds. It was plasma fueled. The rounds were displacer rounds, that tore the targets apart atom by atom. It was a weapon, junebug knew, that most military's had laws against their usage within the branches.
"So, will you do it?"
"What about Saxon and Taya?" The Captain asked.
"I have an agreement with the Hexan. I could always use top enforcers in my line of work. Taya and I will discuss her employment, but I can only get to each of you so fast, and there is the reward for my daughter's safe return to consider. You will have it, and be ready to go on your assignment in three days time. Is this acceptable for you?"</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"We can work with that. Can you give us any more details about this assignment?" Sayeeda asked. Gregorious smiled an avuncular smile.
"Your eagerness does you credit Captain, but today is for celebrating my daughter's betrothal. A toast to the happy couple!"
It was nearly noon by the time Junebug was able to make her excuses and slip away from the gathering. Mostly to irritate Neil she invited Saxon to join her. The Hex agreed with what Sayeeda thought was enthusiasm but she was still having difficulty reading the alien's moods and emotions. They made their way down to the shipyard where the Highlander had been moved from its landing pad.
The slip the Highlander was moored in was a dry dock, evidently used to repair the ocean going warships of this world. Dozens of armored plates had been removed by hydraulic derricks and technicians swarmed over the ship, replacing wiring and refitting the components damaged in the blind RIP jump from the Terran Cruiser.
"It looks like a partially stripped kill," Saxon observed. Sayeeda shook her head.
"No, she is strong, she lives," Sayeeda disagreed as she walked down into drydock, ignoring the iodine smell of old seawater and the acrid byproducts of welders and soldering irons. It felt somewhat sacrilegious to have other people working on the ship, but the damage had been severe for the four of them to put right. She wondered how Neil would find it, living on Chalcedon with Indra, perhaps Taya would stay too make some kind of life for herself. A world with such a porous nobility would suit her. Junebug lay a hand on the hull of the Highlander feeling the cold metal under her finger tips.
"She is your X'anada," Saxon hissed behind her.
"My what?" Junebug asked.
"A steed for a warrior," the Hex hissed. Junebug trailed her fingers along the ship's armored plate.
"Something like," Junebug agreed. Whatever Neil decided to do this was no place for her. She didn't know that there was any place for her. Once this job was settled and the Highlander was repaired she would leave, although how she would do that without her pilot she had no idea.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil was lucky the hallway wasn't overly wide, or he would never have been able to pull off such a maneuver. He used to do this back in school often, when the teaching officials looked for him to mete out punishment. Now he found himself doing this to avoid Indra and the guards that she had ordered to find him as to invite him to some frivilious activity he had no idea of. It was a simple one, where he placed both arms out, along with both legs out, keeping the pressure on both sides to keep himself elevated above a normal human's field of vision within the hallway.
His rump touched the ceiling, he was so far up there. About a dozen feet or so, and as the multitudes of guards hustled past him and out of his chambers, he breathed a sigh of relief and still waited for a minute or two, just to be certain. Sure enough, two guardsmen hustled back in to see if he had been in there and had come out of hiding, but when they found nothing, they left. He'd been in too many hairy situations to not know how to get out of one.
"Goddamn..." he growled to himself, unable to even speak more than the single word, but he wanted to add 'Sayeeda' after it. She was making him jealous, and what's more he couldn't even blame her. She had bared her heart and soul and he had been too stupid to realize she had wanted him to tell her she was wrong. Granted, if she had talked to him about it back on Hahn this wouldn't be happening, but it had been a quick confession and-
"Shut up" he told himself, and dropped down to the floor. "Just stay out of sight and do what you need to do."
And so he did. He had to scale the outer walls of the palace, raking in more sweat than he cared to admit and nearly falling twice, but he made it to where he intended to go. It would be just at the cusp of evening when Sayeeda would make it back to her chambers, and she decided she needed to shower. She would have heard some small talk of him being missing, but nothing too serious. Once she was done with her shower, wrapped within her towel, she found the pilot sitting at the edge of her bed.
"You're wrong." He said to her before she could even give a question to why he was there. He looked up at her. "You are worth it. I'm just too stupid to realize that I should have said it yesterday." Rubbing his temples, he stood up. "Fuck all this. Fuck marrying her, fuck any of this. I'm sorry I'm braindead, but you mean a lot to me. More than any woman. So tell me off or order me to leave, but don't look at me like that. You said the same thing to me yesterday. I'm tired of doing this dance, and I'm tired of my part in it. So..."
He crossed his arms, looking at her. "What do you say?"
Not exactly romantic, but she was definitely a conundrum when it came to traditional romance.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda froze in shock for an instant as she emerged from the luxurious bathroom to find Neil sitting on her bed. She recovered almost instantly with the cavalry of charging forward when things got hairy. The afternoon had been spent looking over the work on the Highlander, which, given the budget of Indra's family and the workforce they had at their disposal, was proceeding at a more rapid pace than she could have hoped for. After that she had spent the afternoon with Saxon, she had been drinking and he had been chewing the odd herb which seemed to fill the role for his people that alcohol did for humans. He had taught her several words in Hex, mostly curses, which she could pronounce only with a great deal of hissing and spitting. It had been a pleasant way to pass the afternoon, distracting herself from the prospect of the upcoming wedding and the fact that she would be leaving Neil and probably Taya once the job here was done.
After that things had gotten complicated, though not, unfortunately, as complicated as they were likely to become in the next few minutes.
"You were all set to marry Indra yesterday," she said her voice steady despite the alcohol and the sense of spiralling disaster.
"You don't like the in-laws and are looking for a consolation prize?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.
The smart move would have been to order him to leave but despite her best efforts she was unable to do so. Steam rose from her skin as the vapors of the hot bath she had been taking cooled in the sub tropical air.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
At first he was somewhat surprised. He had expected her to be furious, not shocked he was there. He didn't quite know what to make of it, and decided to pay no heed to it at the current time. He needed to breathe easier though. She wasn't going at him like a Ranaak serpent from Zolas. "I wasn't set to her marry her, I thought that's what you wanted. I know, I know, I am an idiot." he said, holding his hands up.
"Just..." he didn't rightly know what to say, honestly. Though the consolation prize insult did get his blood boiling a bit. He'd been with multiple women but only because she had kept rejecting him!
"Hey!" he barked, stepping forward. "You're not a fucking prize. And I couldn't care less about these people. They could be thrown into a vat of boiling iron, I don't give a fuck." Briefly he wondered how smart it was to throw caution to the wind and speak like that aloud, but he realized if they had cameras or had the room bugged, they would have confronted him yesterday. "I'm throwing all the shit they want to give me away for you, does that sound like you're just some prize on my belt?"
He was very close at the moment. He could feel the heat from the shower emanating off of her, but he only looked her straight in the eyes.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"So you have slept with every other convenient woman and you are finally working your way around to me?" Junebug snapped, unwilling to be reasonable in the heat of the moment.
"That's not what..." Neil protested, anger on his own face as he faced her down. Both of them were too hot under the collar for this conversation to be a good idea, and certainly not in the home of Neil's would be inlaws. Sayeeda held up a hand in warning to cut Neil off.
"Look all I want, all I've ever wanted is..."
It was perhaps bad timing that Saxon chose that moment to emerge from the bathroom where he and Sayeeda had been sharing the tub. Steam wreathed his reptilian form like smoke and his throat sacks were fully engorged and colored a vibrant red. His reptillian eyes narrowed as he beheld that Neil was in the room.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil looked both horrified and disgusted, eyes wide and lips have involuntarily parted. He should have expected the one thing to go wrong in this situation would, and now that it was here he didn't know what to do or say. He started to say 'what the fuck' to Junebug, and she could see the beginning of the W on his lips, before he stopped and shook his head.
Saxon grumbled irritably. "What are you doing-"
Neil casually pulled out his revolver and pointed it at Saxon's head. "You're not going to speak. I don't want to hear one word out of you. If I hear you talk again, I'll kill you." He said, having never spoken so seriously in his life. "One more word. I don't care if you kill me. I will find a way to drag you to hell."
The Hexanagallion wasn't necessarily frightened, but in all of his long years chasing Neil, he had never heard him like this. It surprised him enough to where he didn't immediately respond, and Neil holstered his revolver and looked to Junebug. Neil could feel the rage inside of him, broiling in the pit of his stomach. But something happened. There was a layer of apathy above it, and Junebug could see that he had been broken in a way. He had none of his heart, silliness, or even the hysterical anger that he should have been feeling out.
He shook his head. "Is this what you want?" He asked her. "I won't stop you. But I aint taking this." The pilot seemed very far away. "I don't want any of it. I don't want Indra, the reward, the highlander." He backed up, breathing through flared nostrils. "I'm going to steal a ship and go back to ripping off mobs and fixing ventilation shafts on Ryloc. I can't! I CAN'T!" he made his way to the door, not caring if anyone outside questioned why he was in her chambers. But the door was sealed shut, and needing Junebug's voice command to open it. Likely because she didn't want anyone barging in on her and Saxon.
There was likely no guards out, as it was their feasting time. But still, it was alarming that Neil punched and kicked the door impressively loudly. "Fucking open!"
He still sounded done, but the door being closed made his actual rage surface. Maybe there was still some of him in there after all.</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"So you have slept with every other convenient woman and you are finally working your way around to me?" Junebug snapped, unwilling to be reasonable in the heat of the moment.
"That's not what..." Neil protested, anger on his own face as he faced her down. Both of them were too hot under the collar for this conversation to be a good idea, and certainly not in the home of Neil's would be inlaws. Sayeeda held up a hand in warning to cut Neil off.
"Look all I want, all I've ever wanted is..."
It was perhaps bad timing that Saxon chose that moment to emerge from the bathroom where he and Sayeeda had been sharing the tub. Steam wreathed his reptilian form like smoke and his throat sacks were fully engorged and colored a vibrant red. His reptillian eyes narrowed as he beheld that Neil was in the room.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil looked both horrified and disgusted, eyes wide and lips have involuntarily parted. He should have expected the one thing to go wrong in this situation would, and now that it was here he didn't know what to do or say. He started to say 'what the fuck' to Junebug, and she could see the beginning of the W on his lips, before he stopped and shook his head.
Saxon grumbled irritably. "What are you doing-"
Neil casually pulled out his revolver and pointed it at Saxon's head. "You're not going to speak. I don't want to hear one word out of you. If I hear you talk again, I'll kill you." He said, having never spoken so seriously in his life. "One more word. I don't care if you kill me. I will find a way to drag you to hell."
The Hexanagallion wasn't necessarily frightened, but in all of his long years chasing Neil, he had never heard him like this. It surprised him enough to where he didn't immediately respond, and Neil holstered his revolver and looked to Junebug. Neil could feel the rage inside of him, broiling in the pit of his stomach. But something happened. There was a layer of apathy above it, and Junebug could see that he had been broken in a way. He had none of his heart, silliness, or even the hysterical anger that he should have been feeling out.
He shook his head. "Is this what you want?" He asked her. "I won't stop you. But I aint taking this." The pilot seemed very far away. "I don't want any of it. I don't want Indra, the reward, the highlander." He backed up, breathing through flared nostrils. "I'm going to steal a ship and go back to ripping off mobs and fixing ventilation shafts on Ryloc. I can't! I CAN'T!" he made his way to the door, not caring if anyone outside questioned why he was in her chambers. But the door was sealed shut, and needing Junebug's voice command to open it. Likely because she didn't want anyone barging in on her and Saxon.
There was likely no guards out, as it was their feasting time. But still, it was alarming that Neil punched and kicked the door impressively loudly. "Fucking open!"
He still sounded done, but the door being closed made his actual rage surface. Maybe there was still some of him in there after all.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda might not have known who to handle the emotional roller coaster of the last few days but she knew how to handle a threat to her team, even a threat from within. Her anger and confusion froze instantly into the icy calm she felt in battle. In the blink of an eye she crossed the room, seized Neil by the shoulder, spun him around and slammed him against the door. The pilot outweighed her significantly but her muscles were whipcord strong and she had the advantage of position. Unfortunately the maneuver didn't leave her any hands to secure her towel which fluttered to the ground to leave her completely exposed.
"Hey!" Neil snapped, his face pinched with a mixture of emotions Sayeeda couldn't easily identify. She slammed him bodily against the door rattling and driving the breath from Neil's body.
"HEY!" she snapped smashing Neil back against the door.
"Get your shit together Neil!" she snapped.
"Don't tell me to…"
"Get. Your. Shit. Together!" she hissed, the vehemence of the words momentarily shocking the pilot to silence.
"You think they are just going to let you walk away after you deflowered their fucking princess?" she demanded. Saxon snorted.
"He is simply ashamed to have chosen a lessor mate. He…" Without letting Neil down she pulled the heavy pistol from Neil's holster, half turned and shot Saxon threw the right kneecap. The Hex dropped to the floor hissing in pain and cursing, the report was deafening in the combined space and the concussion knocked a vase of flowers from one of the side boards with a spray of shattered porcelain. The Hex hissed in rage and lifted his arm to strike at her. Sayeeda put another round through the elbow he was using to prop himself up dropping the alien to the floor with a growl of pain.
"Get out," she snapped. "If you get to the infirmary within ten minutes you will be fine."
Saxon opened his mouth to snarl a response, but Sayeeda thumbed back the hammer of the weapon with an ominous click.
"Try it and I swear by the Goddess I will put out both your eyes and then improvise with the last two rounds," she said in a voice of icy calm. Saxon hissed in a mixture of pain and what she read as excitement. She shoved Neil sideways into onto the bed and cleared the doorway.
"Open," she commanded, stepping clear and keeping the gun aimed at Saxon as he scrambled through the door.
"Close," she snapped, sealing the door and turning on Neil the gun still in her hand, the smoke of the pistol discharge wreathing her naked body.
"You were getting married an hour ago, hell you were probably screwing her an hour ago,i" she snarled, subconsciously gesturing with the barrel of Neil's gun to emphasis the point.
"You don't get to get pissy if I decide I need a little action and you sure as fuck don't get to put Taya and I in danger because you have you're having a moment!"</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
To say Neil was surprised was an understatement. He wiped something wet from his lip, and he found it was a blood droplet. He guessed her pushing him into the door broke the skin a bit. Well either way, he was glad Saxon was gone and it was fortunate they somehow had similar opinions on him at the moment, oddly enough. Still, her pointing his own gun at him (and his ears still rang) wasn't a scenario he planned on.
He honestly hadn't thought on how they would see Sayeeda and Taya after he had left, and truth be told he probably would have stopped himself from leaving if he thought they'd come to harm. "Look just because I bail doesn't mean they'd put you two in a conspiracy." He spat. Then her other words caught his thoughts and he was angry again.
"I haven't touched her!" He all but screamed at her. "I don't know if you've noticed but everytime we're together it's because she leaps on me!"
"Oh, poor you." She deadpanned, eyes as hard as Xarconian steel. She might be in her birthday suit but at the moment he felt naked enough to be on trial. To his credit, he didn't really flinch from the gun barrel. Be it because he knew that her killing him would complicate things more, he thought she wouldn't shoot him anyway, or he simply didn't care wasn't apparent. "You've been with how many women since we've met? I'm to think this one you didn't jump into bed with?"
The pilot leaped off the bed, and looked directly at her. "I already told you it's because you kept telling me no. Even last night was a no!" he growled. "But even past that, I've never lied about any of them, have I? I'm not lying now. I haven't fucked her. I don't want to fuck her. I only want to fuck you." Well, it wasn't exactly an 'I love you' but it was something. When she still didn't respond, he sighed and held his hand out.
"Can I have my gun back?"
Junebug snorted. "You were about to skip the planet a minute ago. No you can't."
"Oh where'ya going to holster that thing? You're the Captain of the ship, not my shit now give it back."
"I said no, and that's fina-"
Neil tackled her like a cannon ball, and the gun went off in the room and from the sound of it, ricocheted twice and broke something dainty and expensive that neither saw. The gun was now out of her hands on the ground, and the Captain and the Pilot were wrestling with all their strength, now entangled in a cacophony of sweat and emotions.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug rolled with Neil on the bed, wrestling for the gun. Neil outweighed her but she had more experience in hand to hand fighting, and whatever the Terran's had done to her surprisingly dynamic. Neil also hesitated to strike home and was rewarded with a sharp blow to the kidney. He let out a pained shout and drove his elbow into Junebug's sternum a heart beat before she smashed her knee into his stomach. Both of them grappled for the pistol but Neils larger hands made that a losing battle. Junebug squeezed the trigger, blasting a bottle of spirits on the side board to fragments before Neil got a leg under her and flipped her towards the wall, she twisted and let the flip bring her feet in contact with the marble wall, let her calves compress and launched herself back over the top of Neil's sweating body. The gun went off again and plaster reigned down from the ceiling where the heavy round punched into the moulding. Her body weigh wrenched the weapon free and sent it clattering over the onyx inlaid marble floor, though for a miracle it didn't go off. Neil caught her arm and yanked her back, demonstrating considerable strength to arrest her momentum, nearly pulling her shoulder from its socket. She aimed an elbow at his face but he got his forearm up in time to block the strike with a grunt of pain. Sayeeda rolled on top of him, pinning him with her thighs and drawing back her fist to punch down at his throat. Neil's fist was cocked back to make the reverse strike and his other hand gripped her throat.
They both paused, shying back from the edge of lethal violence instinctively. Thick coils of powder smoke wreathed the room, in a logic dictated by the complicated air flow. A light mist of vaporized plaster continued to fall from the hole in the ceiling, and fluid gurgled from a punctured bottle adding the tang of some kind of high proof brandy to the tableau. Sweat sheened Junebug's naked body and a drop collected at the point of her nose and dropped onto Neil's chest. Her heart thundered in her chest and adrenaline burned so hot inside her she could literally trace the path of her veins through her limbs.
"This isn't over," she warned in a cold distant voice.
"Right," Neil said though she couldn't have said exactly what he meant by the affirmation.
Suddenly and without conscious understanding of movement, their lips were locked together in a passionate kiss. Junebug was unable to separate the rush of combat from the new circumstance in her mind but she didn't waste much time trying. Neil, apparently as surprised as she was, seemed unable to decide whether to try to take his t-shirt off or to grip her. Breaking the impasse she gripped the collar with both hands and tore it free with a long riiiiip of parting fabric.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Their sudden struggle was turning in a direction Neil hadn't really considered, and he responded into the kiss before he really thought about what they were doing. But as soon as he knew what was happening, all gears turned toward it, and any hesitation he had was lost when she ripped his shirt. It was as if she was tearing his last bit of hostility, as he felt a warmth in his chest from the blood preparing to rush across his body.
Even if indra's entire family and a deathsquad armed to the teeth entered the room, Neil wouldn't have paid them any mind as the two intwined their limbs and tongues, years of pent up sexual frustration being spent. Somehow, the pilot lost his trousers next. If you had asked him later, he wouldn't have even remembered how, only he was glad that they hadn't been ripped either.
They twirled, Junebug's legs around Neil's hips as they hit the bed. Neil groaned. "Put your goddamn back into it," he said, some of the earlier aggression still in him.
"I'll show you my fucking back," She promised, and the evening turned into the night as the two commenced for a timeless period of pleasure. Neil got back to what senses he had while the moon was full, his hair a mess and the smoke having wafted out of the outer balcony. He suddenly realized just how fucked he likely was, but you know, he realized he didn't give a fuck when he glanced over at Junebug.
It was worth it.
---
The Pilot and the Captain slumbered as hard as they had fucked, because the furious knocking went on for Gods only knew how long before both were coherent enough to realize there was a noise. Neil squinted, lifting his head into the warm sun of the window above, and he heard a very familiar voice.
"Captain! Captain, it's Taya!" The girls voice carried, slightly muffled by the closed door. "Captain! Wake up, Neil's gone missing!"</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The feed showed the island in its entirety. One thousand, two hundred and sixty seven square miles of dense jungle and rocky crags amid the Cylonieka ocean, about one hour hard flight with sublight engines to the west. From the look of the highlander, it seemed like they had already fixed up much of it. Neil had been surprised when he had infiltrated in there this morning, but much of the outer damage and the power couplings had been repaired. They could potentially fly out tomorrow, if the hanger mechanics and Neil still worked on it.
"So no pressure," Neil said at the Admiral's foreboding words on his use as a man, diffusing the sudden grimness of the situation. Indra couldn't help but smile and Taya gave a lopsided one as well, familiar with Neil's way but ever amused by it. "What's one more dangerous situation among inlaws?" The Pilot patted Gredorius on the back briskly, as if they'd known one another for years. "Right pops?"
"Don't call me that."
"Got it." He replied, giving him the finger guns. To the casual viewer or the normal friend, people would believe he's just being himself. Stretching the limit of what was acceptable and being charming as he did it. But past that, he was actually taken off guard and trying to hide it. Not by the mission. He had been telling the truth. Dangerous situations was something he wasn't too afraid of anymore. It was Junebug. The way she looked at him confirmed that it wasn't simply a one night stand, which of course was what he wanted. But while he danced like a monkey for Indra's family, his captain gave him these looks which was torturous. Even now, she had a way of seeing into his head. While he joked he saw a smile curve on her lips as her eyes bore into his, and somehow he felt like he was the one staring.
"Neil?" Taya asked with concern, and the Pilot snapped out of it blinking. He looked around at the others and they were all watching him curiously. Except Gredorious and Gabriella who were whispering among themselves, likely over another matter.
"Yeah, what's up?"
"I was joking. I was asking if you were planning on spending the night in the Highlander again." She echoed, and rewinding it he did recall her asking that in the back of his head. Now it wasn't a joke, something awkward since he'd been zoned out earlier. Neil chuckled. "Hey, you know me. I eat, sleep, and sweat starship oil. Anyway, sir? Er... Gredorious?" He tapped the man on the shoulder, and he turned back, mustache edged like a blade and eyes just as sharp.
"What are we dealing with here. Can we get some more details?" He inquired.
Clearing his throat, the officer gave a small nod as if to acquiesce to being interrupted this time, as it was pertinent information. "Javier Pradec was an intelligence officer. He had the codes to some of our armament stations and when he defected, a number of small arms and two notable missile platforms went missing. You can expect them to be armed with such devices."
"Plasma weaponry?" Neil asked, and Junebug crossed her arms in agreement at the apprehension in his voice. Gredorious looked between the two. "About two dozen plasma based pistols, but much of it was slug and lasrifle equipment. Though he could have acquired other weaponry through different means. As you might surmise, those who buy and sell on the galactic blackmarket are not subject to the tariffs we are."
"How many hostiles?" The Captain asked, placing both hands on the display.
"Unknown. Three dozen men followed him from here, so I would estimate fifty or more. Now is that all?"</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"So the four of us against an unknown number of enemies dug in on their home ground," Junebug said in a neutral tone. Gregorious nodded.
"If we could afford a larger footprint we would use a naval bombardment," the Chancellor explained. He taped the hologram of Pradec, his finger distorting the hologram for a moment.
"We don't need to kill everyone on the island, we just need Pradec dead and his files wiped," Gregorious said. Junebug nodded, though she hadn't been objecting per se. If she had been planning this mission she would have suggested a small team infiltration.
"I think we can handle it," Junebug said dryly. The Highlander and her crew had certainly done tougher jobs for less reward. Gregorious nodded and made a flicking gesture, the screen blanked and a small PDA at the center of the table beeped in receipt of the transmission. Junebug scooped it up and tucked it into a pocket in the jacket she was wearing. Indra sat up looking considerably brighter now that the business discussion seemed concluded.
"Now we have wedding plans to make," she said with a radiant smile. Neil smiled back though the expression seemed a little forced. Junebug coughed in polite disagreement.
"I'm sorry Indra, but I'm going to need my team to go over the tactical options," she said, feeling a little guilty at the way the other woman's face fell. The situation was complicated enough without her making it worse. Gregorious however nodded.
"A proper attitude for a soldier," the chancellor nodded in approval. Graciella nodded also, though she gave her daughter a brief sympathetic glance. Both parents were clearly concerned that Neil would be killed and Indra's heart would be broken. Well that was a reasonable concern.
"Also the armorers should be done with the plasma weapon by now, you should swing by and see them."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Needless to say, Neil found that he simply had to go with Sayeeda and Taya to check out her new weapon. Being alone with Indra and her parents was not something he was comfortable with at the moment, and so the scene shifted to the three of them down three levels below the crest of the mountain, under the Palace proper.
They were in a steel, utilitarian hall with blast doors being the only entrance and exit from the entire facility. It seemed the royal family had an interest in being innovative when it came to defense and warcraft. There was a long glass window, three inches thick. Within were vast hydraulic systems placing battle mechs and smaller spacecraft together as engineers welded steel and refitted various power units and weapons systems.
The unit of guardsmen leading them guided the group past the long hall into the next, smaller one toward the end of the corridor. Entering, the room was outfitted with overlapping layers of wall set into 'floors' with weapons fitted over each of them. In the center was a man dressed in a labcoat, though his face and head were hidden behind his protective headgear and goggles.
"Ah, I see our guests have arrived." He said in a peculiar accent, his voice modulated through some kind of breathing aparatus, and he seemed to move his hands as if using them for secondary expression, lifting them up in surprise. "So, who is this lovely-" and he traced the outline of the gun with one gloved hand. "weapon for? We will need a small DNA sample from their blood to place in the weapon's feed to grant the third action of the gun. Once we complete that, you may test fire it if you'd like at our experimental range."
One of the guards turned and nearly jumped back, pointing his rifle at Neil. "Hey! Put that down!" he ordered, and the others suddenly noticed the Pilot was holding a high-tech Grenade Launcher, retrofitted with a 3x scope and 8 chambers for varying types of grenades. Neil looked from the gun to the guards. "Hey whoa, this isn't loaded. I just had to admire it."</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil whistled when Junebug discharged the ACR-18 for the first time. That device was a thing of unrivaled beauty, and Sayeeda wielded it like she was born to use it. It might not be the usual submachine gun, but it looked perfectly balanced for the type of fighting they were used to. The Pilot hefted the Grenade Launcher over one shoulder in a cavalier fashion as he motioned the lead scientist over with a wave of his hand. "Make sure you send the schematics to my holonet pad so I can make sure I have the correct instructions for the rounds."
"You'll make the bullets?" He asked, looking at Junebug and Taya. "I thought you were the Pilot."
"I'm a man of many skills, you'll find out. Now please, the schematics?" He asked, and the scientist suddenly realized once more that this was the future prince. He nodded and went off to retrieve them. As he did so, Neil examined the Grenade Launcher. It was different than the standard gas propelled models. It looked electromagnetically charged, which meant it could fire projectiles at a rate that gave them almost no arc unless realigned by a small switch on the side, like a secondary safety. The weapon itself was cobalt black, made from a FiberIron material native to this quadrant of the galaxy.
"Yo!" Neil called, and a technician approached. "This thing is made for firing Ion rounds isn't it?"
"Good eye. It's a multipurpose weapon. You can even put solid slugs in there. It's something we've been working on for awhile, though it took a backseat to the ACR-18."
"Neat-o. I'd ask to shoot it but I kind of want to be surprised." The Pilot said. He placed the strap of the weapon across his chest, settling it comfortably across his back. "I think I'd like some target practice though. Put up a few mannequins at about...say 25 yards? Make it six in a row." He said, and Neil took out his high caliber revolver, opening the chamber and loading it with practiced ease.
"With that relic of a gun?" The technician blurted out. "How does it even work?"
Neil took no offense, he just smirked. "It's simple. The basic idea of the gun is to cock the hammer back, line up a new cartridge in between the hammer and the barrel and then release the hammer by pulling a trigger. Once you pull the trigger, the spring throws the hammer forward so it hits the primer. The primer explodes, igniting the propellant, which drives the bullet down the barrel. Easy and deadly. Now stack up the targets."
The technicians did so, lining up the Mannequins with a press of a button each, and Neil stepped up to the firing line. "Scuse me," he said to his teammates and holstered his gun. Taya looked between Neil and the targets uneasily when nothing happened. "Should I...count?"
"Oh yeah, sorry I assumed there was a countdown. Go ahead."
"Alright...ready? 3...2...1...fire!" Taya cried, waving a small bandana. What happened next wasn't unprecedented, but still impressively fast as Neil drew his firearm and unloaded every shell as he fanned the hammer in what amounted to barely over a second, hitting four of the targets at center mass and a fifth one in the groin area. He slacked on the last shot and missed, only scraping it with the bullet."
Taya cheered, and the Technicians seemed impressed. Neil grinned. "They call me quick-draw because I can uh, cuz I have a q-..quick draw...?" The awkward moment was interrupted when the scientist finally returned, huffing and puffing inside of his suit. "Your royalness, I got the schematics and sent it to your holopad as you requested."
"Thanks bitch."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
A brief review of Cylonikean history had revealed that Indra was effectively a sort of hereditary constitutional monarch, although with more of the attributes of a monarch than a figure head. This particular honor passed down the matrilineal line and the women were expected to choose mates with useful genetic traits and skills. Graciella remained the reigning Queen until that point which meant that even if Neil married the girl, he would have a long time to wait before he was elevated to the position of Royal Consort. Of course that presupposed a lot of things, like Junebug not strangling the girl in the next few minutes.
"I don't understand why you can't just fly your ship to this island and be done with it," Indra said, repeating the theme if not exactly the words of several previous questions. Indra wasn't stupid, on the contrary she was quite intelligence, but the tactical consideration an operation like this were too far outside her experience to grasp more than the vauge outlines.
They all sat around a holo console that had been set up in the Highlander's hold. Though there were comperable and better facillities in the palace, Junebug had claimed that she had specialized software on the ship, that that wasn't the case. Primarily she had hoped to simply get rid of Indra who had been tagging along ever since they returned from the weapons range. A guilty conscience told Junebug that Indra suspected something and was watching the pair of them, though this couldn't have really been the case. Unfortunately barring flat out ejecting the Princess of the nation hiring her from a planning session, Junebug didn't have an easy way to get rid of her.
"Pradec and his men certainly have a sensor net deployed," Junebug explained patiently. She touched a control and the hologram shifted to imagery taken by a communications satellite. It showed a vessel, a pirate vessel judging from its sleek design and heavy weaponry heading towards the island. As they watched great geyser of water erupted around it and the ship veered violently and raced away pursued by similar water spouts. With another touch of a control Junebug added in reciprocal courses that the computer figured from radar returns and analysis of the imagery.
"These are 18 or 20 inch shells," Junebug explained, indicating with an extended finger to the origin point of the ballistic track, an apparently empty stretch of concrete outside of a dug in series of buildings in a shallow valley pointed south from the dormant volcano that formed the center of the islands spine.
"I don't see any guns," Taya interjected, though her tone wasn't one of doubt.
"They have a holographic screen over them, the refresh rate from the satellite isn't good enough to pick up the shells breaking the barrier." It was actually a fairly clever trick, although the exact circumstances that made it work were rare. In Sayeeda's experience the first thing any two hostile forces did was shoot down all the satellites.
"The take away is that they opened fire a few moments after that ship came into line of sight of the peak of the volcano, so its safe to assume they have a sensor station up there somewhere. We can't risk flying the Highlander or…" she trailed off, a sly smile lighting her face.
"Thirty Seconds," Taya said over the intercom. Junebug settled the helmet over her head, engaging the holographic display. Neil and Saxon did the same, though in the case of the Hex it didn't look like it fit very well, with his snout pressing up against the glass. Junebug gave Neil an appraising glance, though he was still grinning like a school boy. This plan was tactically sound, but it's audacity appealed to Neil more than the conventional alternatives. He shouldered the strange device he wore on his back. It looked similar to a surfboard case, eight feet in diameter and two across. All three of them wore a similar device as well as a bulging duffel bag of weapons and equipment strapped across their chests.
There hadn't been a good time to talk with Neil since the previous evening, between Indra's presence and the possibility of listening devices. Even now it probably wasn't smart, but given the likelihood of dying in the next few minutes it seemed worth the risk. She reached out and squeezed Neil's arm, her face unreadable behind the darkened mask of his helmet.
"I can't ask you to give up living like a prince," she said quietly.
"But I'm not talking the job with Gregorious, when we are done here I'm leaving this rock and I want you to come with me.
"Ten seconds," Taya prompted over the intercom. Junebug turned and took her position at the top of the cargo bay. Neil and Saxon took up positions to her left and right, staring at the closed bay doors at the end of the hold.
"Sayeeda…" Neil began but she held up a hand.
"Tell me later," she instructed.
"Run!" Taya shouted, the excitement and strain evident in her voice. All three of them sprinted towards the cargo bay doors. With a scream of protest the Highlander lurched out from under them, all four of her big thrusters firing in opposition to her current course. At the same instant the cargo bay door dropped open and all three of them were pitched violently from the hold. Ten thousand meters below the surface of Cyloneika glittered and shone. From this altitude she could see the day night divider hazily creeping towards what her helmet navigator informed her was their objective. The wind howled passed her as she tore through the air, fractionally below the speed of sound. Fortunately they were high enough and the air thin enough that the ejection from the highlander didn't smash them to paste. Spreading her arms and carefully twisting her body she lined herself up with the indicated safe zone on her helmet display and then slapped the deployment stud on her right shoulder. There was a sudden deafening WOOOSH as Polymer wings twenty feet in length sprang from the unit on her back, her careful angle allowing her to hold onto the velocity the Highlander had imparted to her without tearing her limb from limb. She gripped the two control sticks on her belt and adjusted her course minisculely, nosing down slightly to match the computers optimum projected aerodynamics. Neil had modeled the units of racing gliders he had seen in the past, but the goal in this case wasn't speed but distance. The launch from the Highlander gave them enough velocity that they should be able to glide to the island several hundred miles away without enough metal on them to worry any ground based observers.
Clouds whipped by as Junebug continued her decent, whipping past in a white blur. Her helmet displayed her speed as something close to four hundred KPH, calculated terminal velocity was 423 KPH so she nosed down slightly to pick up speed. The computer refigured her vector and placed her in the green, marginally, for reaching the island. She couldn't turn her head, and it was dangerous to use radios, but the two green beads, a result of a broadcast of broadcast from the Highlander disguised as innocuous weather data, indicated that Neil and Saxon had both, thus far, survived the jump.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
It might not have been a hoverboard like on Hahn, but he could make do. The wind was almost unbearable, and the air pressure would have crushed almost anything smaller than a human being. But this was where the pilot shined like a collapsing star. He might not have the same control and combat ability as Sayeeda, but he was expert when it came to agility and balance. High g, low g, no g, air pressure, tight rope, it was one of Neil's gifts. While the others were hurtling through the air, within seconds he knew just how to maneuver, and he took a moment to appreciate the stars above them. Cylonieka was truly a beautiful planet, much like ancient Terra from the holorecords he'd seen back in school. The sea expanded beyond all senses, the mountains rose out of the sea like trees, and the island they were set to land on appeared past a wisp of cloud.
Since he had taken a liesurely descent, he saw Sayeeda ahead of him by 100 meters, with Saxon a few meters behind and a dozen meters to the north of her. The Hex's bulk was likely helping him move faster without his complete consent, and for a single moment Neil had a dark thought of if he could cause the Xeno's glider to malfunction. Not out of any real jealousy, but because the monstrous humanoid had still promised to kill him someday. Then again, with Neil's luck the mother fucker would survive, and recently they had been able to at least work together. He pushed the thought aside and instead decided to make the best of the situation.
He might not hamper him, but he could fuck with him.
Increasing speed, Neil banked to the left. They had all begun to slow the second they left the Highlander, but Neil picked up velocity until he was .6 the speed of sound, easily encroaching upon the Hexanagallion's airspace. Once Saxon noticed Neil to his right, Neil couldn't help but laugh. The Xenos seemed even more like an asteroid upclose, heavy and going in a lumbering, straight route. "Hey Swamp water, need some help?" Neil called through the comm.
"Flee my presence, whelp" Saxon growled back, but Neil instead decided to scoop into an ascent before incredibly spinning, end over end over the Hex to steady himself on the other side of him. "Sorry, can't hear you! This wind is so loud I can barely think. I guess that's how you feel most of the time, eh?"
The Hexa lurched at him, only to lose balance for a moment and sink a few meters, before he righted himself. Neil had dodged expertly, then waved at him from above. He cupped his hands, even though the mic was still on. "You're getting the hang of this!" He called, and turned off Saxon's garbling curses as they were merely a mile and a half above the island. It looked to be a seashell, a near circle of mountains with an abrupt end at its eastern edge, likely where much of its sea-going vessels were held. Each member of the squad began to slow their flight, and the beacon on their radar was located at the southern edge of the jungle just between the mountainous beach and the inner island.
"See you guys ground side!" Neil called to both of them.</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil saw Saxon's crashing descent, but with any luck they were far away enough from any ears to have it go unnoticed. Mere seconds later, Neil lowered into the canopy and unbuckled his harness just as the wings were getting caught on the branches. Unfortunately, the ground and the height of the trees had remained obscured to his vision, and when he was suddenly flung forward, he found himself with an extra 2 meters than he predicted before he hit the ground, with a tree in his was. In a reaction, he placed his feet in front and kicked off of the tree like a ping pong ball, hitting the ground more or less safely. "That was close," he said to himself, and picked up Junebug's question on the radio.
"Yeah I'm good babe," He replied, kneeling down and unzipping his pack to retrieve his equipment. Fuck, he wished he had a personal forcefield, but those costed more than the reward Gredorious had given them. He pulled out his carapace fla-jacket, slipping his arms through and latching it up. Flexible, light weight, and could stop anything short of a shotgun shell at point blank. Next he grabbed his belt, fully loaded with the various tools he needed to infiltrate or to hack into any systems the rebels might have.
He took out three weapons, ready and able. His pistol he kept holstered, his new grenade launcher with various different types of grenades located along his belt, and a battle carbine with a 3x-6x holographic scope he'd been assigned with for tactical missions like this. He honestly would rather go in gun blazing with him HMU-350 but he knew that likely wouldn't work in the end. Plus they had Saxon, and that was pretty much the same thing.
They were supposed to rendezvous at the mountain base behind them, but seeing as they were all past the drop location, he saw the beacon on the HUD of his half helm that Junebug wanted them to move forward until they reached some crags in the middle of the jungle, close to the base. He acknowledged, and hefting his carbine, he moved forward into the thickets. The only visible part of Neil in the gloom would be the light of the three moons reflecting off his visor every so often. Something hissed to his left, but he never got a visual on the creature as he moved forward and trusted they would have told him if he had any fauna to fear in the jungle.
Stepping over a fallen log entwined with red vines, he found himself as the rendezvous spot before the others. A few small boulders in the pattern of ridges along a lizard's back stretched for around 30 meters to the south, cutting right through the jungle. In the distance through the optic lens he could see the edge of the tree line just barely, and he placed the scope of his carbine before his eyes to see if there was any movement.
For a brief moment, there was nothing. Followed by the barest flicker of something on the scope, and Neil remained perfectly still as he watched. A figure was in his line of sight, and he recognized it as a patrol man walking the path outside of the trees, looking positively bored. A grin widened on Neil's face.
The party was about to begin.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug moved off at a brisk walk. While she wasn't an infantryman, she had worked on enough jungles to have some idea of how to move. Rainwater runoff had carved what were now dry streams through the vegetation and she used one as a footpath to work her way inland towards the rendezvous point. The light amplification function on her helmet was the best choice for the conditions, gathering up starlight and applying a computer enhancement to the result that rendered the jungle in a black and white approximation of daylight. Without active sensor inputs the result didn't give her great depth perception, but was far better than staggering around in the dark would have been.
Despite using the dry creekbed she was frequently obliged to climb over fallen trees or work her way through networks of vines. As the slope grew steeper she was also forced to climb several small rock faces, rarely more than ten feet or so but enough to slow her down and ensure that she was sweating by the time she closed in on the Rendevous. As she reached the top of the last rockface she spotted Neil crouching behind a three bhole some thirty meters ahead of her. Beyond him the motion detector carroted a bored looking soldier in green on black battle dress meandering along a game trail, a cigarette between his lips highlighted by her infrared sensors.
Where Saxon was she had no idea, though given she had seen him come down, he couldn't be two far away. The night was suddenly split by a monstrous bellow that seemed to combine elements of a Terran elephant and some sort of vast serpent. The guard froze for a moment, his hand going to his rifle before he hurriedly checked something on his wrist before seeming to relax. Junebug frowned, uncertain as to what was going on, and uncertainty was something with which no veteran was comfortable. Crouching down behind a large rock she waited for the guard to past by or, if it was necessary, for Neil to take him out.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil stayed mercifully still as he peered into the perimeter. The guard seemed alone, though he knew patrol as much as most soldiers himself. There would be another one in a few scant minutes likely. He needed to make a split second decision. He either eschewed from killing the guard here, and left them thinking everything was alright for awhile longer. He he took him down and made it so they had to deal with one less guard. Truth be told, he wanted to take him out, but the other two hadn't shown up to his position yet.
That is until he heard the vast roar that he swore shook the leaves of the exotic foliage, widening Neil's eyes. "What in the goddamn fuck was that?" he whispered, and saw the guard's strange reaction. There was no way this island was big enough to have a large native beast that could roar like that. It either had to be mostly aquatic, or needed to be here on purpose within the bunker. Judging by the lack of concern from the guard, it wasn't an aquatic wildcard.
He decided to wait again, just a few moments more. He still didn't know if he should fire, but-
Another bellow erupted from within, and Neil took the shot on instinct. Three rounds entered the soldier's subclavien artery and right upper lobe, dropping him with a stagger. He fell noiselessly, and Neil realized he needed to go and move the body before someone else came around. A second later, he willed himself to move. He shouldered the carbine and took out his knife just in case he ran into something or someone, and crept through the brush toward the body, eyes on the moist, leaf colored forest floor to keep himself from stepping on any well laid traps.
If he tripped any sensors, they were silent ones. He felt intensely exposed stepping out onto the clear path. The right led to a curve that fed into a walkway. To the left went into a small jungle path. At his feet, the man groaned, clearly bleeding out and nearly out of consciousness. Neil knelt down. "Sorry, bud." He said, and stuck his knife into the man's throat. The soldier's eyes widened, and he slumped, his life fading into oblivion as Neil dragged him off the path before he bled too much to cover up.
He got what an insurgent deserved, but still. The bestial roar and his reaction to it still gave Neil pause. The pilot checked the man's pockets, wondering what he could find in there. A short range radio, some flares, a strange beacon, and a shock stick along with his primary weapon. The Plasma XE Assault Rifle.
"They really decked you guys out with these weapons didn't they?" He whispered to himself.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda moved quickly towards Neil pleased and impressed that he had taken the insurgent down quietly. She was only thirty meters away when suddenly a rock leaped at her, carroted rather belated on her motion detector. She swung her weapon to bear instinctively but the thing was almost the size of a battle tank. Its body temperature was within a few degrees of ambient, close enough that her AI had assumed it was a boulder holding a little residual heat from sunlight but now that it was in motion the mistake was obvious. It was ten meters in length and three meters to the top of its horned head. Bony protrusions served as natural armor and three long tusks protruded in a delta pattern from the center of its face. It stank of rotting vegetation and some sort of organic decay, bad enough that the nose filters in Junebug's helmet clamped shut in case it was harmful. Sayeeda managed to squeeze off a shot before the tusk hit her like a medicine ball, slamming her chestplate against her and pitching her into the air. She tumbled for a moment before another toss of the things head smashed into her ribs, this time the point of the tusk tangled in her webbing and she dangled, stunned from the point of the things upper right tusk. She regained her senses enough to fire her rifle. It was impossible to miss at this range but the displacer round merely pulped a dinner plate sized portion of armor, lacking the penetration to reach the things vitals. She squeezed the trigger to use a burst but the thing went berserk stomping its feet and tossing its head so that she tossed like a rag doll. She had the confused impression of Neil shouting as the world whirled around her in a dizzying disorienting blur. Desperately she dropped her rifle, allowing the sling to catch it and pulled a cutting bar from her belt. Aware that the cutting bar was as dangerous to her as the creature she pressed it against the tusk and powered it on. Counterturning diamond teeth whired and bit, and there was a spray of bone and what might have been blood. The maddened creature bellowed in pain and tossed its head violently. The tusk gave way with a crack and Junebug flew free, arcing through the air and crashing into Neil, knocking him flat with the combined weight of her body and the bony lump still tangled in her webbing. For a moment she lay atop the pilot dazed before she felt the thunder of the thing charging towards them. Letting out a sulphurous oath she rolled onto her back, dizzy and pained to the point that the world momentarily rendered itself in shade of gray and red.
The thing was bellowing mad as it charged, great gobets of foam dripping from its mouth and dark blood running from the stump of its severed tusk. It barreled towards them like a freight car and Junebug swung her rifle to bear. Suddenly the thing screamed and flinched backwards, churning up the earth as it attempted to reverse its progress. It wheeled away as though repelled by some shield, turned and tried to press home again only to scream and vere off once more. Junebug came up in to a kneeling stance and aimed at the thing, but it bellowed in frustration once more and then bounded off into the trees, shattering saplings as it fled. For a moment the jungle was silent before the usual cacophony of birds and small creatures resumed. Junebug touched the retraction button that lifted her face shield and wiped blood from a split lit, spitting into the dirt.
"What the fuck was that?" she wheezed, falling back onto her butt and trying to catch her breath.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Sayeeda falling back on her butt unceremoniously had her butt land on a prone Neil, and he let out a 'woosh' of air as she did so. Before she could apologize, he waved it away and sat up with her on his lap in the jungle, holding himself up by his hands behind his back, his hair disheveled. "I have no..." He placed two of his knuckles against his nostrils and blew gently to pop his ears. He felt dizzy after the immense bellow next to his head. "-idea."
He looked around, but saw no trace of the thing other than trampled foliage and a broken sapling. The power of that beast was ridiculous. In his experience, monsters like that were born on harsh worlds or were made via a genetic experiment and-...well that made sense. He didn't want to start talking like he knew anything, but he kept the idea in the back of his head. "That guard definitely knew something about this thing, and I don't think he was waiting to take it for a walk."
He placed a hand behind Junebug's head to turn her face toward him. She resisted slightly at first, but he said. "Let me look at you," making sure a split lip was the worst thing that happened to her. Once he was satisfied, he sighed in obvious relief. "You know, the answer to your question was yes." He remarked, reaching down to take out a small flask of water to drink, before handing it to her to take a swig. "Once this is done, I'm coming with you."
"Neil, don-"
He pulled her head to him and he kissed her thoroughly, drowning out the noises of the jungle and their own thoughts for the moment. Until something approached. Junebug was suddenly on alert, her weapon drawn. Neil knew the sound of that gait anywhere, and Saxon stepped into view, seeing naught but the damage and the two of them on the ground. "Hey, you made it. Here I thought you fell into the ocean."
"Silence, worm. I'm listening." The Hex said, head up and mouth open, his tongue flickering through his mandibles. Nothing seemed to happen save for the small chirps that surrounded them.
"I think we're safe for now." Neil said.
Saxon, clearly not listening, said. "I think we are safe for now. Did you see what caused those strange roars?"
Neil gave him a look.</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug grinned at Neil for a moment, relieved beyond words that he wanted to continue with her and the Highlander, though exactly what that meant for their relationship with their current employers was yet to be determined. Well, one thing at a time. Saxon took a step towards them and then hissed with displeasure. Sayeeda spat blood onto the grass and wiped at her split lip.
"What?" she asked, perplexed. Saxon glared at the body of the guard. Sayeeda followed his eyes to the device on the man's wrist. Reaching down she found a switch on the wristband and flipped it off. The Hex took a step towards them, apparently untroubled.
"Some kind of sonic repellent," Junebug speculated. Hex could hear sounds at much higher frequencies than humans could, the bracelet must be transmitting some sort of signal, probably to repel the kind of animal that had just attacked her.
"I don't know exactly what is going on here," Junebug confessed. From the briefing she hadn't gotten the impression that Pradec was involved in any kind of genetic engineering, but the creature that had attacked her wasn't anything she had seen in the biota of this world.
"Well given your unprofessional gunfire, I suggest we strike while we still have some sort of element of surprise," Saxon hissed with flat displeasure. Sayeeda didn't bother to argue, just brushed her lip again and pulled her helmet visor down.
"Right, lets move."
It took about another half hour to reach the coordinates the satellite surveillance had provided to enter the building. Rather than a doorway, all of which were guarded, they found themselves at a large grated vent that spewed hot exhaust into the tropical air. Several fungi of unhealthy hues hung from the slatted cover plates. There were as yet no audible alarms.
"Alright," Sayeeda said, unslinging her duffle bag.
"Lets get his over with."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The lack of alarms was certainly odd, but perhaps this facility wasn't as well run and equipped as Gredorius had them believe. Neil didn't doubt he'd be the overly cautious type. Taking out his high powered revolver, he volunteered to enter the breach first. He recalled some poem from ancient Terra with a similar line, but he couldn't be bothered trying to remember. He dropped down, and found himself in what he believed was a restricted access hall, even for the paramilitary members of the facility.
On the top end of the walls, pipes as thick as his torso ran along it and various warnings symbols were plastered along the wall every so often. It was dim, and the few hanging lamps there were shaking and flickering on and off gave Neil a very foreboding feeling. He hadn't felt this crept out since the Xenonids, and the very thought of one of them crawling along his body had him shuddering a bit. He steeled himself and held up his gun, at the ready.
"Coast is clear." He told them, and Junebug followed as lithely as he would have expected. Saxon grabbed a hold of the bent steel, and lowered himself in with barely a creak. The corridor was far too small for the Hex to be comfortable, and he slouched even more than he usually did. The Hex shifted, bumping Junebug none too gently. He didn't seem to notice, gazing about. Neil had noticed the Hexa giving her less respect recently, and he wondered if the Alien realized Neil and Junebug were (at least hopefully and if they survived their current social problems) together. He mused if this would be a problem in the future, and he really hoped not.
"Move," Junebug said, and all three of them headed down the corridor, knowing one was as good as the other. Right now their best bet was getting into a lower floor and trying to reach any type of central command they could. Unfortunately, Saxon's awkward height had him stomping a bit more than he intended, and two mercenaries reached the corner before them and lifted their weapons, aiming down their sights even as they yelled "Freeze!"
Even before Neil could truly appreciate their black armor and impressive armaments, a knife flew past his head and struck the front one in the neck. The merc with the knife in him fell into the one behind him, sending him to the floor before he could fire. Neil knew they needed to kill him fast, and he didn't want to risk a bullet. Suddenly, Junebug would see Neil's face warp in confusion as he was lifted up by the scruff of his collar and thrown down the corridor by Saxon.
He flew four meters, keeping his wits about him enough to kick the merc just as he was lifting his gun to shoot him out of the air. His foot connected with the man's head, knocking him out cold before Neil placed his hands against the wall to stop his momentum. Of course stopping all of it was futile, and he crumpled to the floor like a sack of defused flashbangs. Saxon chortled, or at least it sounded like it as he stepped forward.
"Good work. You're useful for something." He said, and Neil sat up, dazed, thinking if they were anywhere else he would have shot him.
"One of these days, you fucking Lizard." the Pilot groaned, and sat up, making sure his back and neck were fine. As stood up shakily, he managed to get a look down the next hall. There were doors lined up along the hall, with small windows allowing them to peer into each chamber.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Something isn't right about this," Junebug declared as she moved along the corridor opening one door after another with the barrel of her rifle. It appeared they were in a barracks of some sort, which might have been expected, but the rooms were cleaner than Junebug would have imagined from soldiers, hired or otherwise.
"What tipped you off? The literal monster?" Neil asked sardonically. Junebug chuckled as she opened the final door in the hallway. Inside was another room with a bed, refresher and computer console. Unlike the others they had passed this one was still live. Junebug gestured the others inside and closed the door before crossing to the computer. The screen appeared to be some kind of statistical data, though it didn't make any sense at all to Junebug. Reaching into one of her pouches she withdrew a small memory cube and slotted it into the machine. As Taya had predicted the input was of a standard type of Cyloneika and she wasn't forced to fiddle with the package of adaptors she had bought just in case it had been of more esoteric manufacture. The machine bought up a warning about the cubes contents which Junebug ignored with a click. The cube hummed for a moment and then a tell tale flicked green, informing her that Taya's malware had been successfully uploaded. While she waited Junebug looked around the room. There were several dataslates, each apparently hooked to xenobiology databases of various kinds. Neil pulled open one of the drawers to reveal several neatly folded lab coats. He arched an eyebrow.
"Junebug?" Taya's voice sounded in Sayeeda's ear. The virus she had created was designed to give her access to the buildings communications suite so that she could link to them in real time from the orbiting Highlander. That part of the plan appeared to be on track.
"I've got some access but it's going to take time for me to crack all the systems," the girl admitted.
"No problem," Junebug told her, gesturing the others towards the door. It might be smarter to wait for intel rather than move, but Sayeeda didn't like defensive positions and this hallway would be a bad place to get pinned down.
"I think this might be some kind of research facility," Sayeeda said. That wasn't what Gregorious had told them, which meant his intel was either dangerously bad, or more likely, deliberately false. That didn't change the mission though. Taya could be depended upon to deal with Pradec's files if they could be remotely reached, but that still left the man himself.
They pressed forward through the door at the end of the corridor, it opened onto the walkway above a two story room. Below them white coated men were working around holographic displays. On the screens Sayeeda could see footage of the jungle in which large alien looking creatures roamed. They were not of a piece, save that each one was large and none were native to Cyloneika. A large map with red tracking dots was on one of the walls.
"I don't think we can get through this way," Junebug said as she eased the door closed. As she spoke the doorway at the other end opened and two men carrying shot guns and wearing body armor stepped into the opposite end of the corridor. One opened his mouth to shout though probably more in confusion than alarm at this stage. Junebug lifted her rifle and fired twice, the discharge deafening in the confined hallway. Both men spun to the floor in a spray of blood, the displacer rounds pulping armor and tissue with equal disinterest. In the same motion she unhooked a flash grenade from her belt, pushed open the door and tossed it through the door, over the railing and down to the floor below. It went off with an actinic flash and a shattering boom they could feel even through the door.
"Here we go," Junebug said and kicked the door open, rushing onto the walkway. The scientists below were clutching at their eyes and screaming. Several of the computers had been shattered by the concussion and a haze of smoke disrupted the holograms. Her helmet quickly scanned each figure, returning no matches for Pradec. There didn't appear to be any armed opposition here so she rushed across the walkway towards another door deeper into the facility.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Delving deeper into the facility, they found themselves lost quickly and entering a large and strange storage room. Retracing their steps was possible, but most shouting they heard was from behind them and within minutes, an extremely loud and annoying alarm was sounded accompanied by red lights streaming across the walls and themselves in a revolving pattern. Saxon enlarged himself by puffing up his chest and shoulders to appear more menacing, and growled as if that would halt the alarm.
"Uh oh" was all Neil really had to say on the subject, but it proved apt when the sliding door to the storage bay area they found themselves in opened up and four armed paramilitary soldiers hustled in, rifles leading. Neil let off a few potshots, but even someone as accurate as him didn't have time to get a good bead on them before they opened fire in an orderly line. Standard formation had the front two kneeling and aiming down their sights while the back two hipfired to suppress anyone who remained firing back.
Saxon raised his armored arm and kept his face protected, but the small arms fire punctured his rough skin through the gaps in his armor. It would take far more to bring him down, but it was clearly painful. With his offhand, he hefted his fletchlette ripper and sent two cases at the direction of the doorway. At this range it had almost no accuracy to speak of, but one of the men was hit in their chest armor by a piece of shrapnel, and a man in the back was struck in his visor, making him cry out and halt firing.
Undaunted, Junebug stood in a central walkway and fired her submachine gun as the rest continued their volley, clipping one of the men in the leg and sending him down in pain, just before Neil grabbed her and yanked her into cover with him. "Hey," he snapped. "I'm supposed to be the suicidal one!"
"Then be the suicidal one and cause a distraction so I can take them down," She said. He opened his mouth to answer, then realized he had no real retort. "You see, this is why we work well together." He said. There was that maniacal grin of his as he raised his revolver. In short order, Neil left cover and rained down a hailstorm of bullets on the men, knocking one in the chest and killing the one fixing his visor.
It was Junebug's turn to take out the others, but behind them another door opened. Heavy footfalls accompanied the noise, and they knew they were about to be surrounded. It looked like it was time for Neil to take out his battle carbine. He didn't go back into hiding with Junebug though, instead continuing his course behind another stack of equipment crates, reloading his revolver just in case.
Neil looked at the symbols on the crates, and noticed they were either radioactive or carbonite cooled as if there was a huge amount of food in them to preserve. It was probably for the beasts.</s>
|
<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
If he hadn't run across any other monstrosities today, Neil would have said this was the strangest beast he had ever seen. Longer than a terran Orca, it was an ungulate based on the three hooves they could see along each flexible, powerful leg. It had a sloping, broad head that was framed by two huge, twisted horns and ended with a beak-like mouth that looked like it could pierce thick armor. Judging by it's scaled skin, it was cold blooded.
As it galloped toward them at terrifying speed, the thing opened its mouth to reveal its thick, mucous covered tongue that wriggled like a serpent. Neil was having none of this, and he drew his new battle carbine, aiming down its Entech Holographic sight. He fired five shots at the beast as it neared. With satisfaction, he saw he drew blood and harmed the thing. But it didn't die or even slow considerably.
It didn't seem to know who had shot it, as it swung its huge head toward Sayeeda rather than Neil, seeing her as the slimmest morsel. Gaping maw widening, Neil saw its tongue rearing back to strike. With no time to consider, he leaped in the way of Junebug as a tongue the length of this thing's body struck out and latched itself onto Neil rather than the Captain.
"Neil!" Junebug screamed as her pilot was suddenly yanked toward the beast to be devoured. Saxon, more seeing this as an opportunity to attack the monster when it was distracted rather than for any worry of Neil, roared and charged the thing. Meanwhile, with precision and a cool head only she could muster, Junebug drew her rifle and fired a burst of three rounds, effectively cutting the thing's tongue at the halfway point. Neil skidded to a halt on the ground.
The monster buckled in pain, unable to keep Saxon from grabbing its horns and grappling with the wounded beast. Corded muscles bulged as the enraged Hexa planted its own strangely hoofed feet into the ground, trying to keep the thing from tearing out of his grip. For once Saxon was the lightweight. Whatever that thing was, it likely weighed five tons while Saxon probably weighed half a ton with his armor on. Even wounded and pained, every swing of its head threatened to toss Saxon meters away.
Neil's roll had brought him dangerous close to the grappling titans, but he continued with another roll and drew his high caliber sidearm. With a smooth slide across the rough ground, he nearly crashed into the monster's head. Saxon had barely kept himself stable from another thrash, just in time for Neil to press the barrel of his gun at the thing's earhole and unload his weapon into it.
All six rounds punched into the beast's head, tearing through the inside of its skull. After a tense moment, it let out a pitiful groan and toppled into the dirt, dust billowing into the air. They had almost no time for a breather as a growl reverberated across the dense landscape.
"Hey, is Taya able to help get us out of here because I've got a bone to pick with my fake future father-in-law." He told the Captain as she tossed him his fallen carbine, having just reloaded his revolver.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"There is an exit on the south eastern wall," Taya replied, her tone apologetic.
"Sorry there is no video I can get into down here," she added as though she had something to appologize for in not being able to obtain real time imagery from a base in which the strike team was moving through at a run.
"Any one you walk away from," Junebug replied and headed towards the carrot that appeared on her helmet visor, pushing through the thick foliage to reach an armored doorway that formed part of the wall. It slid sideways at her touch and cool filtered air rushed into the tropical enclosure. The trio stepped hastily through into a hallway.
"Turn right the panic room is just around the corner," Taya instructed but Junebug was already moving towards the sound of rushing feet she turned the corner to see a man matching the description from the mission holo rushing towards her, eyes wide with panic. He tried to stop, tripped and pitched onto his face with a painful sounding crack. Junebug leveled her rifle at him as he scrambled to his feet raising his hands. She wondered what sort of filter Gregorious had used to make the man look dangerous. In the flesh he appeared to be a timid academic.
"Please," he begged, "this isn't what you think!" Junebug sighed.
"Yes, that is patently fucking obvious," she observed, then gave the fellow a regretful look.
"However, a deal is a deal."
"Wait! N.." Junebug shot Pradec through the breast bone, droping him to the floor. She said something in the strange hissing tongue of the hex then stepped forward and looked down at the body so that her helmet sensors had a good view of the scientist before putting a second round into his head.
"Well I guess that takes care of that," Neil said, his voice betraying no emotion.
"Neil watch your..." Junebug started to shout and then Neil's world exploded in a flash of white fire.
__________________________
"He should be waking up," a voice sounded on the edge of Neil's consciousness. His eyes cracked open to find himself locked into the medical computer on the Highlander. Sayeeda breathed a sigh of relief to see him coming to. She wasn't wearing her armor, but was instead in her usual combination of a t-shirt and cam pants.
"Was I hit?" Neil asked, noticing that his head was covered in some sort of sticky gel like substance. Junebug looked embarassed.
"Ummm... in a manner of speaking," she admitted. Neil gave her a strange look before the world seemed to go monochrome for a second and Junebug flinched in the familiar discomfort of RIP entry.
"Wait what? Are we running?" Neil asked, struggling against the restraints of the machine. Junebug laid a comforting hand on his head.
"Give it a minute, the machine has to finish re-oxygenating your blood," she said apologetically. Neil glared at her.
"Ok, explain what the fuck is going on," he demanded. Junebug cleared her throat.
"Well it was technically part of the contract that you marry Indra," she explained. Contracts were very important to mercenaries and Junebug had never gone back on one.
"So I had Saxon hit you over the head while your back was turned," she explained, as though this cleared everything up.
"Right..." Neil prompted.
"I had my sensors pointed at Pradec so I didn't record but when I turned around it looked like, from the video feed, like you had been shot," she explained.
"Saxon carried you out of there and we set off a couple of charges to level the place so there was no chance of anyone finding a body. Taya doctored the feed from my helmet so you had no life signs when we turned it over to Gregorious," she went on.
"So why is my blood being reoxygentated?" he pressed.
"Ummm... well I couldn't risk them searching or scanning the Highlander and finding you so, I put you in one of the stasis pods and shot you into space," she admitted. Neil could only stare.
"We picked you up right after your funeral," she added as though that made it all better.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil felt vaguely uncomfortable as he was being revitalized in the enclosed chamber. Certainly it was needed, and he felt "better" in a certain sense every moment. But it still felt odd being pumped full of Gods know what while his blood was being reoxygenated after being out cold for...days? Weeks? If he had been out for any longer than two months he would throw a temper tantrum like he was 12. Not only that, but he was surprised he didn't need to pee badly. If they put a tube in there...
"I hope the funeral was lovely," He said, dripping with sarcasm. Junebug likely could hear it in his voice but she answered anyway with a "It had all the trappings of a state funeral. In a way I'm jealous."
There was a hiss of air as the automated needles in his arms and body slid out of him and were 'sheathed', and the glass case lifted up to allow him to rise out of the position. As soon as he attempted to, he nearly fell straight onto the floor. Junebug caught him in her impressively toned arms. "Whoa, there. You need to slow down." She said.
"You slow down!" He retorted, but it came out tired and almost drunkenly. "You jus-...you could have warned me about the whole...dying thing." His breathing sounded labored, and she picked him up and carried him through the hall. Taya popped out of one of the rooms with a broad smile on her face. "Neil! Are you ok? How do you- oh!" She tried to whisper the last part, thinking him asleep. She slipped back into her quarters.
Junebug carried him into the next room which was the Captain's quarters, placing him on her bed carefully. It was larger than his own, and his room was far more cramped. Neil tried to sit up again, and this time he managed to stay up on his elbows at least. "Neil if you knew, it wouldn't have worked." She said, sitting next to him.
"I guess I should feel good knowing I'm out of the marriage..." He admitted, clearing his throat. Before he knew it she had a glass of water she was pouring down his throat, letting him up for air only when it was fully consumed. He hacked and coughed, but the cotton mouth was going away at least. "Thanks." He said, and continued his previous thought. "and I'd rather be taking out by my...girl...friend?" He blinked, trying to wrap his head around it. "Wait...are you my girlfriend?</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug smirked at Neil taking the cup from his hands and setting it down on the table that was bolted to the deck beside the bed. It glowed for a moment as the integral magnets inlaid into the surface fastened the cup down so it wouldn't become a missile if the ship maneuvered hard enough to beat the artificial gravity.
"Well," she said, stretching out a heel to push the door shut with a click. Reaching down she unzipped her flight suit and pulled it down baring her shoulders and breasts. The owl tattoo on her shoulder stood out in the overhead light. The slight difference in tone where her skin had grown back after her diesel burns, the puckered flesh where bullet wounds had healed. She was acutely aware of the contrast she made to Indra with her perfect skin and holostar body. It made her feel like an ugly duckling. She climbed on top of Neil pinning him to the bed with her hips.
It had been a strain, acting calm throughout the elaborate public funeral, dealing with Indra's grief and quietly negotiating her way out of government service, all the while knowing that he was floating up there in the dark. Sure, in theory he was perfectly safe, but machines and people fucked up, and she had fucked up plenty of times. Other people had died for it after-all, why not Neil. She shoved him roughly down onto the bed ignoring his wince of discomfort before leaning in and kissing him passionately.
"Let's talk about that..."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
To say that Neil was enjoying her response was an understatement. Truth be told he felt as if he had woken up in a nightmare earlier, but now he was a-ok at being hit on the head by that bastard lizard if this was what it led to. Despite the huge contrast between Junebug and Indra, with Indra all-too perfect form and genetically engineered looks, he never felt more at home around Junebug, not to mention he found her hot as fuck.
Her hips pressing to him woke him up in more than one way and it caused him to give an audible intake of breath before she kissed him. It made him lose the strength in his arms that had barely held him up and his head hit the pillow as she gripped his shirt and pulled back to speak.
"We can do whatever you want," He replied, enthralled by her touch and shifting beneath her. Gods it was just like her to get him in this position when he had no real strength to speak of. Damn her! This was one of the many reason he was endeared to her. She drove him crazy in the best way. His hands grabbed her legs and pulled her into him more firmly, and he grinned as devilishly as he could through the fatigue. "With your permission Captain, I'd very much like to be your boyfriend."
He tried to sit up again to better get at her, but she rode his lower waist expertly to keep him from gaining any advantage. It was frustrating, and yet, he wasn't going to complain.</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The snapping of buttons and the crank of the throttle was audible over the thrum of the engines. It did Neil well to hear the Highlander purring as if it was brand new and straight off the hangar. He didn't necessarily like duping someone as innocent as Indra, but he had to admit conning paid off. Hell, the alternative would be worse. You could have told her you didn't love her. "Yeah yeah, and then where would you be?" He breathed, setting up the RIP jump.
"Progress calculated. Course set-" Lonney began, but Neil cut him off. "I see it."
The display was framed by 2 red lines reaching a horizon point at the center, indicating how far they needed to travel before they reached the first R.I.P. jump. Taya looked satisfied, but the moment she looked away from the monitor to view Neil, she took a double take. He hadn't been wearing those when he came in. "Neil, where were you hiding those glasses?"
Neil adjusted the sunglasses on his face. "Don't worry about it." He told her, before his voice grew overly loud. "Everyone strapped in!?"
Taya checked her waist, but Junebug had already made certain both women were buckled up and ready. One look was all Neil needed, and he punched it. "Good enough for me!" He said, and the ship lurched. The artificial gravity withing having a difficult time keeping up with the vessel's speed for a split second, before it adjusted and settled once again. On the monitor, the red lining was increasingly narrowing until they reached the horizon line, and rather than lurching, there was an intense feeling that was somewhere between nauseating, having an eardrum rupturing, and having your heart fly out of your mouth.
It only lasted for but a moment, and for those used to it like Neil and Junebug, it wasn't nearly as bad as someone who had not experienced RIP nearly as muck like Taya, or for those who were not fully expecting it at the moment like Saxon likely. Soon the monitor was all silver streaks and black lines, in a maelstrom of various light dull colors as they traversed the alternate dimension. Every now and then, something would wash over the screen like a wave at sea.
"Any idea where this might take us?" Taya asked through closed eyes, her small body shaking from the exertion of the jump. Neil unbuckled and handed her some water from the side compartment.
"Wherever it is, it's close to the outer galaxy. We're already pretty far out, which is a double edged sword. Less law but more dangerous, generally."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Extracting," Junebug stated/thought, her consciousness merging with the computer her thoughts surging down the circuits in a stream of electrons. Reality stuttered into existence around them and Junebug felt a wrenching sense of loss which passes almost instantly. The sensor boards lit up as data from the material universe flooded in. Before them hung a greenish blue world with a single large continent dominating the lower half. There were several other worlds in the system but they seemed to be either gas giants or unremarkable rocks.
"Looks like... one spaceport with a lit beacon, sporadic radio traffic, fairly sparce settlement, or fairly low tech," Taya reported looking gray and shaky. Junebug had never found that the wrenching psychic shocks got any better, but with time you learned to deal with them. The junction had obviously been tough on her and she hadn't yet fully recovered from the strain. Junebug hoped they could take some time to rest and recuperate wherever this was.
"Any local net?" Junebug asked, tuning the sensors on the spaceport beacon Taya had mentioned.
"Doesn't look like they are that organised," Taya said a little disapprovingly.
"Beacon lists the world as Tiosinte, a protectorate of The Caliphate of Tarsaros, whatever that is," she commented. Spaceport beacons were not uncommon on more out of the way worlds that lacked centralized orbital nets. They usually provided basic information about the world as well as docking procedures and fees. Few worlds had several of them unless there was a political situation that made competing spaceports necessary.
"Docking fee five hundred credits and a further hundred in departure duties, tankage and gases, blah blah blah," Junebug continued reaching the end of the the meager data stream. No information on trade, no employment listings, no data on local conditions.
"Well, they will have charts if they have a spaceport," Junebug said, "and we might as well look over the damage from the junction with gravity under us. Take us in Neil."
"You got it babe," Neil said and shaped their course for reentry.
The Highlander settled onto the cracked concrete pad, the plasma thrusters starting brief fires fueled by weeds that grew up through the fissures on the landing surface. The spaceport was an space of perhaps forty acres enclosed by a curtain wall of synthetic stone. Presumably this was meant to protect the settlement they had overflown on the way in should one of the freighters under go a reactor failure rather than to defend the spaceport, manning such a fortification would take at half a battalion. Several hangers, apparently used for storage rather than to shelter ships, leaned haphazard and rusted, roofed in a combination of corrugated iron and structural plastic sheeting. A control tower of sorts stood roughly in the center of the space, a sun faded flag blowing lazily from its peak. Well it was a tower at least, they hadn't responded to any hails Sayeeda had attempted either by radio or with laser communicator. A battered looking freighter, several times the size of the Highlander sat on the other side of the port looking battered and ugly. It had power readings but no crew were immediately evident.
Junebug, Neil and Taya walked down the ramp and onto the cooling concrete. A shabby looking man was walking from the terminal with a clip board in his hand. He was unshaven and wore a grease spotted shirt in a garish red printed with white flowers and a pair of cargo shorts that contrasted to the steel toed boots that completed the ensemble. He reached the group and paused pulling a cigarette from his mouth and extending a hand. Junebug reached and and took it, shaking it formally.
"Welcome to Tiosinte captain...?" he asked.
"Cykali," Junebug supplied, "Junebug Cykali." If the name struck the man as odd he didn't show it, eyeing both her and Taya with appreciation, his eyes sliding over Neil.
"I'm Warner, Tobin Warner, I run the spaceport for the Tars," he intorduced himself before chuckling good naturedly.
"Not that they give a fuck what happens here of course, so long as they get their port duties, speaking of which..." he extended a hand.
"Six hundred credits please," he said with a smile. Junebug couldn't help but smile, graft on such a minor scale was almost charming and she passed over six of the platinum inlaid credit chips. Warner made them vanish with a skillful flick of his wrist.
"This is our first time on Tiosinte Mr Warner," Junebug told him, "Can you fill us in on conditions here?" Warner smiled tiredly.
"Its a fucking shit show, that is how conditions are," Warner told her, waving for them to walk with him. Obidently the followed him into the base of the tower. The interior was pleasantly cool compared to the tropical heat outside. A single ceiling fan turned slowly and music of some kind of acoustic harp blared from a music projector unit.
"There are a couple of gangs here that supply danac to the cartels on Easterling, they are at each others throats," Warner explained picking up a large pitcher of iced tea and pouring four glasses without bothering to ask them if they wanted any. He made a magnanimous gesture to the table of battered wood and Junebug took a seat.
"Danac?" Junebug asked and Warner arched his eyebrow.
"Gods where are you from? Danac is a narcotic that grows here, only grows here really, though it grows like a weed, freighters from the cartel come in every couple days and pick up the raw stuff." He made a gesture with his cup towards the other freighter on the pad, accidentally splashing tea onto his shirt and squaring colorfully.
"The gangs supply the cartel, and make everyone else miserable," Warner complained.
"They don't bother the spaceport though?" Junebug queried. Warner shook his head.
"Nah, the Tars could fucking gut them in a hot second if they managed to piss them off enough to notice, though that aint easy to do, no point in risking it when they already got everything else. If you want my advice, do whatever you need to do as quickly as you can and get the fuck out of here."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The spaceport was both rustic but industrialized. High tech towers and beacons beamed into the sky, nearly as slim as poles whilst the buildings around them were usually one, maybe two stories tall and made of clay or local sandstone. The climate wasn't nearly as arid as Hahn, but the planet wasn't necessarily bountiful in water or foliage either, giving the air a distinct smell of dust and dry heat and the air shimmered from the local sun's rays.
The crew found refuge in a large cantina a few miles away from the landing area, a small ball of neon light emitting multiple colors out into the sun drenched streets.
"No better place to find info." Neil said, and Taya and Junebug followed his lead. Of course, Junebug was savvy in a number of subject and she was no slouch when it came to criminal activities. It was something Neil used to do as a business, however, and at the moment they needed underhanded money. Well, anytime would be great but it seemed most money here was made through means that was illegal in the wider Imperium.
The music inside was bouncing and catchy, and four Xenos with horned heads and mouths split horizontally rather than vertically played on strange instruments on a small stage in the back. The three of them got a small table near the center of the sitting area, calling for drinks and making a guessing game of what alcoholic beverage constituted as bearable in this backwater nowhere of a planet. Meanwhile, Neil spend the majority of his time looking around to see if there were any signs of someone who might have information. A telling look, a gang sigil, or someone with a surly disposition who glanced at just the correct times.
It was to his surprise when a small group of settlers in the back waved him over when his eyes met one of them. They were maybe slightly older than him, around Junebug's age in brown coats and caps to keep the elements out of their hair, along with goggles on their foreheads. Neil looked to Junebug, then got to his feet and made his way over to them.
"Hey buddy, looks like you could use some money." One of them said, slurping up a noodled dish into his mouth, and the others watched Neil expectantly.
"Yeah I can. Looks like you fellas have a job if I'm not mistaken." He grinned.
"You are mistaken. We're not wanting your skills, we want something else."
"What's that?"
"Your women" he said, and Neil's grin disappeared. He lowered his brow, not entirely certain if they were making a joke. He placed his thumbs in his pockets, leaning nonchalantly on his back leg. "You want me to sell you my little sister and my girlfriend? Is that something that happens here often?" The former might not be by blood and the latter might be a new development, but he wasn't lying either.
"No, doesn't happen here more than much anywhere else. We'd treat 'em right, though if that's what you're worried on." A second said, and suddenly an idea popped into Neil's head. One he didn't need to convince himself much on. After a brief pause where he smiled, the pilot suddenly placed his hands under their table and threw it end over end atop one of them men, spilling their food and drinks in a myriad of cries.
One of them regained his feet, sputtering soup out of his mouth. "What the fuck did you do that for!?" He screamed, and the other two suddenly placed their hands on their holsters. All the cantina was silent, and the men suddenly realized Neil was also armed. Soup and beer dripping from their hair and coats, their pause was short lived when they decided three against one was good odds. Neil felt the same.
Before their guns cleared their holsters, Neil gunned all three of them down in display of impressive gunmanship. Junebug and Taya would have seen a bouncer approaching him from behind, only to suddenly walk away after he killed the three settlers. The fourth crawled out from under the table, and upon seeing his dead friends, he ran out of the cantina with flailing hands. Neil blew the smoke out of his gun, and made his way back to the table.
"Neil what the heck was that for!?" Taya whispered, worried.
"Well, if we can't get contacts, let's have the contacts notice us instead." He replied, and took a big sip from his mug. "Hey, this shit aint bad."</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"He is right Taya," Junebug said quietly taking a sip of her own drink. It was a locally brewed ale, heady and with a slightly oily aftertaste that she suspected might be an unpleasant companion after a night of heavy drinking but all Neil had the right of it. The drink had the virtue of being cold and refreshing, which she could appreciate even if this world lacked the oven like temperatures of Hahn.
"Do we even need to work I mean we have..." Junebug stomped on Taya's boot cutting her off with a yelp. When interest in the outburst waned she spoke quietly to her friend.
"Taya if people though they had a thousand credits we wouldn't get thirty feet from here before the gunned us down," she explained taking another judicious sip of her beer. The place certainly had a down on its luck feel. Tables of shaped stone that were set into the ground so they could be hosed off rather than wiped, cheap electrical wiring taped to the wall with cargo tape where it didn't just hang from the ceilings. A large high bar that would be difficult for a drunk patron to lunge over. Now and again a serving girl came out carrying plates of fried foods to various tables, setting them down quickly and retreating deftly to avoid gropes and pats on the rump. This was evidently a service you had to order at the bar because there were no menus and the serving girl didn't stop to ask.
"Rough place," Junebug observed as a pair of men dragged Neil's victims out the narrow back door and into an alley. This clearly wasn't a humanitarian gesture but just the desire to pillage the dead in private.
"You have been in rougher I suspect," Taya said trying to sound confident. Junebug grinned wolfishly.
"Yes but those times I had a dozen troopers with me and we weren't likely to run into anything half as bad as us," she said with a smirk. The Armored like most mercenary units tended to drink in packs, and the cohesion of a military unit was as devastating in bar fights as it was on the battle field, usually the only thing to worry about were other groups of mercenaries.
The sipped beer and watched the crowd for a few minutes as the interest in the shootings died away. They were a mixed bunch, farmers of a rough sort, a few spacers, evidently from the freighter at the space port and townspeople, mechanics, and small trades people. Everyone Junebug looked at was either openly armed, or more frequently seemed to be concealing a weapon in a pocket or tucked into a waistband. They were nervous also, not just about what had just happened, but in general. They ordered some food and more drinks as the afternoon wore on and Junebug began to think that Warner's dire warnings were just the line of nonsense a crooked spaceport operator might spin to keep the credits in his own hands, but as sundown approached there was a marked change in behavior. People began paying their tabs and leaving and the streets seemed to empty almost as though by magic. Junebug turned her head suddenly.
"What," Neil and Taya both asked at once.
"Engines, diesel maybe light trucks," Junebug stated her practiced ear picking out the sound a few moments before the rumble was evident to the others. The locals who hand't vacated the bar hunched their shoulders as though in anticipation of a rainstorm. Ten minutes later the reason why became evident. A parade of light trucks pulled onto the main street each one loaded with hooting gunmen. The were dressed much like the farmers save that everyone of these was obviously armed. They were festooned with weapons knives and bandoleers and each of them wore gold fabric prominently, some had bandannas, others sashes or coats, but every single one of them was marked. Warner's gangs she supposed. A moment later a second such convoy pulled into the street from the other side of town and disgorged an equally disreputable looking group, these were indistinguishable from the first save they wore green. The two groups began to shout insults at each other and hurl bottles and other bits of debris at their opponents. Some men, not directly involved in the shouting and cat calling, swarmed into the bars, swaggering and shouting.
"What is going on here," Junebug asked catching the wrist of the serving girl as she hurried past.
"Mistress," she hissed, gaging her chances of breaking Sayeeda's wire snare grip and judging against it.
"The gangs, they spend the days forcing the farmers to labor in the fields and they come back to town at night," she said, casting increasingly nervous glances at the gold clad thugs. Sayeeda let her go and the woman turned and fled.
"Well I guess that explains that," Junebug observed. Outside a hurled brick brained a man outside the tavern sending him tumbling to the dirt in the door way, blood pouring from his nose.
"I can see this getting interesting once they all get drunk," Junebug observed a moment before a knot of gold clad gunmen shoved their way into the bar and began shouting for drinks.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Taya might have grown considerably, but she still clung to Neil when the twitching man's body fell heavily upon the entryway. Neil cloaked her eyes with his hand, turning her away. He was glad she didn't see the ruffians trampling over the body, surely ending the man's life by the way they callously stepped on his head and neck if he was not already slain. The pilot looked to Junebug, and his free hand went to the hilt of his revolver while he raised his brows questioningly.
She shook her head, and he followed his captain's lead. He wasn't intimidated himself, but it could still get messy if they remained. He almost wished he'd brought Saxon or the modified Hauler.
"You know the drill, fill 'em up!" a thug cried, waving his mug in the air as if he was rallying troops to battle. The others cheered and prattled on to one another in a blur of uproarious noise. In a minute, they had spread around the tavern and perched where they liked, which seemed very much to Neil as if the three of them were being surrounded. A quick look told him many eyes were on them, now that they all had drinks in their cups.
Out of the crowd stepped a lean man, sporting a close cropped goatee and hair of dark curls. He had on a predatory, vengeful look to him even as he smiled. His eyes measured Neil for a moment, and then traveled down Taya to climb up Sayeeda, and he drained the last of his mug with one last swig. "I have never seen you before." The simple statement seemed to heighten the tension, not lower it, and the other men had quieted down.
"We just flew in." Neil said nonchalantly.
"Why would you come here?" He asked abruptly, trying to throw them off by cutting straight to the point. His eyes snapped to the Captain when she answered with. "Not that it's your business, but we heard there was work to be had. Mercenary, smuggler...anything that pays. Name a job and we've likely done it before." Their gazes clashed, and the fellow soon realized she wouldn't back down from a staring match.
"Well, in order to work here you need to prove your worth." He said, receiving another mug full of beer without even having to ask. There was an accent to him Neil couldn't pinpoint. He had a sun darkened complexion, but it looked suitably uglier than Sayeeda's caramel color, at least to Neil's sensibilities. Around them, the men easily had their hands on their weapons, or free in case anything broke out. "What have you to offer, hmmm?"
Neil chuckled. "No offense, but we'd like to speak to someone with authority if we're going to talk business." The man clearly didn't like Neil's wide smile, and he suddenly reached for his knife. His hand was halfway up to present it before Neil's gun was out of its holster, aimed just at his heart. All around them men had drawn their guns, and most impressively, Junebug hadn't moved an inch. She just stood there, arms crossed and unamused.
"You've got spirit, I'll give you that." The menacing ruffian said, putting his knife back in place.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The desperado pulled up a chair uninvited and sat down putting his boots up on the table, scattering sandy soil on a tabletop already none to clean. He produced a cigar from his pocket and lit it with a pocket igniter that was much fancier than it was practical. He puffed several times to get the cigar going, large lips making a satisfied sucking noise. The smoke that issued from the cigar was acrid and unpleasant, unlike any tobacco Junebug had ever smelled.
"Danac...," the stranger rasped, drawing the word out into three syllables.
"The pure stuff, a cigar like this would cost you two hundred credits anywhere else in the galaxy," he boasted.
"How very fucking fascinating," Junebug replied dryly. The stranger grimaced in irritation at her lack of respect.
"You got a smart mouth bitch, it will get you in trouble someday," he promised. Junebug shrugged in affected boredom her eyes scanning the room. The gunmen were clearly used to having the run of the place. They grabbed at the serving girls and helped themselves to the booze without any intention of paying. Those locals that hadn't fled were handled roughly, shoved and mocked although there was no violence yet. Junebug began to wonder if it had been a mistake to bring Taya into a place like this, the young blonde was getting a lot of looks from the thugs but fear, perhaps of the leader, or perhaps of Neil whose earlier exploits were already being talked about kept them at bay. If Taya noticed she wisely gave no sign, staring nonchalantly in imitation of Junebug.
"My name is Warez," the smoking man declared with lofty self importance.
"My friends and I keep this bar free of the Spider scum," he boasted, his hand reaching down to stroke a large bore pistol in a holster on his belt. Junebug wondered what would happen if he drew on them. The swaggering Warez would be dead in an instant but his cronies around the bar were another problem. They surrounded them on three sides and though they were drinking and probably stoned, they watched the byplay at the table with the enthusiasm of hungry sharks. Junebug doubted that any of the gunmen were worth much, but it was likely that they would manage the job through raw number if not skill. Warez probably felt the same way, though Junebug suspected his logic was different.
"How do I know you aren't Spider scum hey?" Warez asked, puffing theatrically.
"Well between the three of us we only have six legs, so I suppose that might be your first clue," Taya said flatly. Junebug froze for a moment shocked that Taya would act so boldly and worried that it might precipitate a crisis. Instead Warez began to laugh and his crew joined in with sycophantic enthusiasm.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Warez wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve, chuckling until he could breathe again. There was a hint in the air that, despite their bravado and levity, this was still a very dangerous room full of violent people. Luckily, Neil was generally crazy enough not to care and Junebug had nerves of steel. Taya seemed somewhat put off her comment was received in such a fashion, but it wasn't as if they had opened fired so that was something.
"What do you guys call yourselves then?" Neil asked, crossing his arms. Junebug laid both of her crossed arms on Neil's shoulder and looked at the gang members, resting her chin on her draped arms to give off the casual and unimpressed look of a fellow gangster. Her tattoos with the image and she looked like a roughrider with her confident lover, simply wanting to know about the next job opportunity they had.
In unison, the men dropped their weapons and pulled up their shirtsleeves or took off their jackets to display their tattoos along their upper arms. There was another fearsome arachnid drawn in black ink on each and every one of them. "The Scorpions," Warez introduced, giving a reptilian smile. "And if you wish to be apart of our crew, you need to meet Stinger." A hush fell over the others, and Junebug and Neil simultaneously lifted their eyebrows lazily.
"Let me guess. Your nickname's Thorax?" Junebug asked.
"Like I said, watch your mouth bitch." He snapped, but Junebug's eyes were so hard that his words held little power. Neil shook his head, hand at the ready to grab his holstered revolver. "That's the second time you've insulted my girlfriend. There won't be a third, got it?"
"Why don't we meet Stinger before they need to clean up more bodies off the floor?" Taya interjected, stepping between them. If Warez had little respect for Junebug, he had even less for Taya because of her age. But her logic was sound, and he smirked. "Fine. Do you have a ride or do you need to piggyback off of us? It'll cost extra, by the way..." He made a kissing gesture toward's Taya, and the girl rolled her eyes.
"Let's discuss our tab with Stinger." Neil remarked, eyes never leaving Warez.</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Warez wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve, chuckling until he could breathe again. There was a hint in the air that, despite their bravado and levity, this was still a very dangerous room full of violent people. Luckily, Neil was generally crazy enough not to care and Junebug had nerves of steel. Taya seemed somewhat put off her comment was received in such a fashion, but it wasn't as if they had opened fired so that was something.
"What do you guys call yourselves then?" Neil asked, crossing his arms. Junebug laid both of her crossed arms on Neil's shoulder and looked at the gang members, resting her chin on her draped arms to give off the casual and unimpressed look of a fellow gangster. Her tattoos with the image and she looked like a roughrider with her confident lover, simply wanting to know about the next job opportunity they had.
In unison, the men dropped their weapons and pulled up their shirtsleeves or took off their jackets to display their tattoos along their upper arms. There was another fearsome arachnid drawn in black ink on each and every one of them. "The Scorpions," Warez introduced, giving a reptilian smile. "And if you wish to be apart of our crew, you need to meet Stinger." A hush fell over the others, and Junebug and Neil simultaneously lifted their eyebrows lazily.
"Let me guess. Your nickname's Thorax?" Junebug asked.
"Like I said, watch your mouth bitch." He snapped, but Junebug's eyes were so hard that his words held little power. Neil shook his head, hand at the ready to grab his holstered revolver. "That's the second time you've insulted my girlfriend. There won't be a third, got it?"
"Why don't we meet Stinger before they need to clean up more bodies off the floor?" Taya interjected, stepping between them. If Warez had little respect for Junebug, he had even less for Taya because of her age. But her logic was sound, and he smirked. "Fine. Do you have a ride or do you need to piggyback off of us? It'll cost extra, by the way..." He made a kissing gesture toward's Taya, and the girl rolled her eyes.
"Let's discuss our tab with Stinger." Neil remarked, eyes never leaving Warez.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Fine!" snapped Warez, springing to his feet so fast that he almost seemed to teleport. The thug put two meaty palms on the table and leaned forward, smoke billowing from his nostrils like a mythical dragon. A grin split his face, displaying teeth long yellowed by his drug of choice.
"You know, I hope he doesn't like you," Warez said, patting the hilt of a heavy knife on his hip, then turned and yelled some instructions to his men in a dialect Junebug didn't quite follow. They stood and followed Warez out of the bar. Out in the street the exchange of insults between the two gangs was dying down as night feel and booze and sex became more appealing options than testosterone fueled violence. Both gangs had pulled heavy trucks across the road, blocking what little civilian traffic there was with effective road blocks. Both of the big both of the big disel flat beds had armament of a sort, machine guns welded in expertly to pintles and with improvised armor made of metal sheeting. Junebug couldn't imagine the haphazard armor provided much protection, more likely it would just add shapenel to the devastation wrought by whatever incoming fire it was supposed to deflect.
Neon signs blazed in the night, offering drink, drugs and negotiable affection. Naked women, and in some cases men, stood in upperstory windows gyrating unethusiastically to a variety of musical styles that volume rendered into an indistinguishable boom in the background. Wire mesh had been stretched across the windows to protect against bottles and worse being hurled at the shills. The buildings that lined the dusty street were universally business, bars, clubs and brothels all catering to the gunmens pleasure. Now that Sayeeda knew what to look for the gangsigns and colors were everywhere at this end of the street the Scorpions had a clear advantage while at the other the Spiders were boldest. Those businesses in the middle naturally muted their allegiance not so much to attract both groups, but in order to be able to deny support. It wasn't simple robber though, or at least not only that, the gunmen paid at least a token for what they did, probably because their gang bosses collected protection money from the locals. Civilians mostly stayed inside, waiting no doubt for the night to pass and their unwelcome guests to return to the fields. As they crossed the street Junebug heard screams coming from one of the brothels but none of the gunmen seemed concerned she she figured she could afford not to be.
Warez gestured them towards a four wheeled jeep with a pintle mounted grenade launcher. It didn't look like it had enjoyed any maintence in Sayeeda's life time. She climbed into the back alongside Neil and Taya, regretting that she had bought the girl although Taya herself watched everything with a determined expression trying to be tough. Warez climbed into the cab and spun up the diesel engine which sputtered and coughed smoke before the transmission caught and the wheels spun spraying dust and grit into the door of a nearby bar. One of the patrons shouted an insult as he was pelted with dirt and debris but ducked back inside with a yelp as one of the gunmen casually fired two rounds at the doorway, both missing and blowing chunks from the adobe facade. The truck pulled out into the road and down the dirt street. Beyond the bars and clubs Junebug could see houses and tenement buildings in the alleys and narrow streets beyond. Their lights were out, tryng not to attract attention.
They drove for only a few minutes until they reached the edge of the town. Junebug didn't know if it had a name other than that of the planet, though she didn't imagine her life would be much poorer without that datum. A large compound, encircled by walls topped with broken glass and retrofitted razorwire dominated the eastern approach. Armed guards, half stoned thugs really, stood infront of the gate lounging on seats of cloth stretched over wood frames and cradling weapons. There were even a pair of sandbagged block houses, better organisation than Junebug had seen thus far, protecting the large wrought iron gates. Music blared from inside them and the heavy weapons emplaced inside did not track the approaching truck. The truck pounded to a stop, its unmainted suspension hissing as Warez leaned out of the cab and screamed at the guards to open the gate, they did so without much enthusiasm but a moment later they were driving down a gravel driveway towards a house that might once have been handsome but was now disfigured by obvious attempts to make it defensible.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil was impressed with just how much material the scorpions had acquired, and he was equally impressed with how wasted most of it was. The barbed wire was stretched around like a serpent, going back and forth with plenty of areas a determined man could crawl through. The trenches around it were similarly jerry-built, and Neil was just glad they didn't have the stupidity to dig across the road they were driving on.
The gates slid open shakily with a primitively automated system, and it was actually pretty funny that the whooping and hollering thugs were trying to keep their enthusiasm even as they sat waiting for the gate to fully roll open. Neil sat there, bouncing from the shoddy engine of the vehicle they were in. He looked at Junebug and Taya with a raised eyebrow.
After a full minute, the cries began anew when the path was clear and they drove up to the house, turrets placed in a variety of places without planning it seemed. Large double barrel turrets with, to Neil and Junebug's practiced eye, 35 mm slug rounds. The pilot could tell it was an automatic weapon and was highly volatile but powerful.
"When was the last time you boys were hit by the Spiders?" Neil asked the thug to his left, his crew members on his right. The man, if it could be called a man for his face was bloated and putrid and he had one eye, turned to him and merely grunted. Neil wasn't certain he knew how to speak at all, and Warez spoke up from across the way.
"We have a few hits every now and then, fucker. But we send them scuttling back to mama, eh!? He cried, and they all cheered just before the vehicles halted in the front dirt lot, kicking up dust and debris into the air. All of them vaulted and leaped out of the vehicles in a timely manner, as if it had been practiced. Neil and the others were just a second behind, and they were inducted into the house.
It was large, but hardly enough room for so many gangsters. Over a dozen of them ran down stairs and Neil theorized they lived down there among a larger complex. Neil, Taya, and Junebug however were brought by Warez and his largest thugs to the third floor, which looked to be one single roo that covered the entire story. As they made their way in, they could see couches and tables, with a corner of the huge room covered in curtains to keep out prying eyes.
"Yo Stinger! We got some new recruits!" Warez yelled.
The curtains opened up, and the men suddenly knelt when Stinger walked out. He didn't have the look Neil thought he might. Mostly because he was a she, thick bodied with full lips and curls that reached down to her shoulders. There was a dangerous look to her indigo eyes, and on her arm was a scorpion tattoo. She downed the last dregs of a whiskey bottle and set it down on the table next to her.
"Yeah I can see that, Warez" She sneered. When he opened his mouth to speak, she shot him a look that killed the noise in his throat.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug was surprised to discover that the stinger was a woman. Generally speaking the rougher a place was, the less respect women commanded, although judging by the way the toughs in the bar had been manhandling the serving women, she suspected that the Stinger was a special case. The woman looked them up and down, lingering on Neil for a minute and seeming to take in their dress and equipment.
"Ah, the foreigners who arrived on that pretty freighter," the Stinger said in a surprisingly sensual voice. She obviously thought the fact she knew something of them would shock them and their lack of reaction seemed to irk her.
"Have a seat and we will discuss your futures here on Tiosinte," she went on, making a magnanimous gesture with her right hand. The gesture exposed the tip of a scorpions stinger tattooed on her left shoulder. Jungbug and her friends obediently took their seats. Without asking servants, slightly better dressed gunmen anyway, came forward and set cans of chilled alcohol down in front of them. Junebug picked hers up and took a drink. It was sweet, some sort of wine cooler with an artificial peach flavor, she had certainly drank worse.
"I take it you aren't looking for places on the... security staff of my organization?" the woman asked shrewedly. The look in her eyes suggested she had seen off worlders before who thought they were a cut above the local variety of thug.
"You take it correctly, we are looking for short term work, a week tops while we get our ship worked over and update our nav data, then we will be out of your hair," Junebug agreed and then leaned forward slightly to rest her elbows on the table top.
"It would be a shame not to take a few credits with us though," she intonated.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"Oh I don't doubt that. I know what it's like to want to get your hands on something." She said, biting her lip and giving a look at Neil for the briefest of moments. Junebug had been looking away at that moment, thankfully. He didn't want her to shoot their employer, but it still didn't solve the small problem. Had he not met Junebug, this girl was definitely his type. Dark and dangerous. But now that Sayeeda was his girlfriend, her look made him more than just slightly uncomfortable.
Maybe he was overthinking it, though. It was a quick look and she might simply have been playing a joke on him. Stinger continued without skipping a beat. "So, as much as I'd like to take your word on your skills, I'll need proof you're trustworthy to get a job done. I'm sure you can understand my hesitance."
"Of course!" Taya said, fingers interlocked and attentive. Neil gave her a sideeyed glance, noting she looked like she was at a normal job interview rather than looking for a likely illegal hire from a thuggish warlord.
"What exactly do you have in mind?" Junebug said, crossing her arms. Neil looked about the room to make sure there were plenty of exits in case worst turned to worse. Luckily it seemed everything was fine, with every gang member looking vaguely in their direction or outside the myriad of breakable windows they could jump out of if need be. Stinger chuckled darkly.
"I can tell we're going to get along." Her sonorously seductive voice reminiscent of the squeeze of a python. Every word wove you tighter into her point of view if one wasn't careful. Likely how she managed to rise to the top, though Neil noted she had scars to prove she could fight with the rest of them. "I have a shipment of stock that needs escorting through Kraggr Pass ten clicks west of here. Get that to its destination safely and I'll consider you hired."</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Light spilled into the cavernous mouth of the wrecked car when Magdalena opened the trunk door with three taps on the rear axle from a small hammer. Neil gave off a low whistle when he saw the trunk of the vehicle was actually a door leading into a scrap-metal tunnel, feeding down into what looked like a large underchamber. Junebug and Neil gave one another a look whilst Taya's eyes widened in amazement. Magdalena told her little daughter to hop up and go first, and she did so obediently. She climbed onto the back bumper and hopped through, holding some loose, unplugged wiring they obviously used as a rope-like railing to descend and ascend.
Neil was told to go next, and he did so. He hopped over the bumper onto the platform, and found the way down somewhat steep by checked with various bits of scrap and wood planted to halt one from sliding, along with the wiring. Neil actually quite enjoyed this little opening, nearly doing a trick jump or two before he realized it was probably rude. That and it could damage the integrity of the tunnel around him.
One by one they made their way down, Taya coming right before Magdalena took the rear of the line. Neil had expected some vast undercity filled with huge support beams and a thriving society that gave the above-ground dystopia to shame. In reality it was barely the size of half the Highlander, and there was merely a few younger people here, all likely Magdalena's children. There was a roughly made slab of wood atop a large propeller that likely came from a surface to air, planetary flight machine. One of the younger children spun it around, sending the small toys on the table spinning.
Neil ran his hand over the wall, examining the structure of the cavern itself. He smiled. "This is an abandoned ship," He said, and on second look he was right. The walls were the color of light marble and made of pristinely designed steel, though dirt and wear/tear caked the material. Piles of junk were everywhere, though there were many cots on the ground to choose from, when the hostess presented them, of course.
"We've food ready," Magdalena said tiredly, tying her hair up in a bun and making her way to the left section of the room, beside an old door where there was a fire burning and pot set up on what looked to be a broken gravity converter holding it up. It was fascinating on how things could be rigged and utilized for different uses. Meanwhile, Taya had gone over to play with the children. That might have been a strong word, however. The oldest of the five was a young man close to Taya's age, holding what looked to be another baby sister.
Elsewhere across the room, a toilet flushed. The small sliding steel door opened by what looked to be a lever system and a bearded man walked through, brown skinned with a goatee and baggy clothing. He stopped when he saw the Highlander crew, and Magdalena hurried over to him. "Javier, these people saved Lucina. They're staying with us tonight." She explained. He pushed passed her, eyeing them. The way he held his hand, it looked like there was a concealed weapon on him.
Neil raised his hands, face easy as always. "We're not here to start trouble." He said, before he realized Junebug had already pulled on the man and the reason he had stopped was that her barrel was aimed at his forehead. Neil exhaled audibly. "But apparently we will finish it if it starts."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The new comer, Javier apparently, froze before edging his hand slowly from his clothing. In his hand he held what appeared to be a cheaply made electric razor. Junebug's pistol vanished as quickly as it had appeared and she nodded her head in brisk apology to the man.
"It's a nervous city," the man stated, offering her the out and crossing the room to shake all three of there hands.
"Thank you for saving my son, he shouldn't have gone out there, it isn't safe for anyone after dark when the gangs are in town."
"He wen't for medicine," Junebug suggested and the man nodded.
"Heart medication, thinners and regulators, I take them since I was very young," Javier explained. As he talked Magdelena stood up and went back into a small chamber set off behind a bulkhead door. She slid it open by hand and it moved smoothly on its hinges, having evidently lost the vacuum closure in its hinges over the decades. A moment later she emerged with several large plates of spiced rice with a variety of vegetables and some kind of local sausage, she sat a plate down in front of each of them with thoughtless grace.
"It wasn't always so bad, a year ago there was a factor her from the Cartel on Kimberly, the Spiders and the Scorpions, sure they cause some problems out in the fields but not here where the Cartel could see," Javier explained, he reached into a cold box and produced six bottles of some kind of local brew, each sealed with wax and beaded with condensate.
"They were afraid of the Cartel?" Junebug asked, prising the cork out of her bottle with the point of her knife and then taking a swig. It appeared to be some kind of carbonated mead, though the alcohol burned her eyes enough to make her think it was fortified. Javier nodded sadly.
"The Cartel needs them to maintain order out on the farms, but it could bring in people from offworld for that if the locals proved to much of a pain," Javier explained, "but a year ago there was a power struggle back on Kimberly, the factor went home and hasn't been back."
"Those animals don't care what happens here so long as the drugs keep coming," Magdelana snapped with unexpected vehemence.
"Meanwhile these animals," she hooked a thumb towards the surface,"run amok here, making life miserable for the normal people."
"How long they been gearing up?" Junebg asked.
"Gearing up?" Magdelena replied, looking perplexed. Junebug shoveled the rice into her mouth with the gusto of a field soldier, talking around her food in a most unladylike fashion.
"They aren't swinging their dicks around up there, well not just that," Junebug explained, "they are both getting ready to fight, fortifying, organizing."
"I don't know about that," Javier said looking a trifle nervous.
"Mostly they just swagger around with guns."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"Maybe you folk are just spending more time down here than up there, but it was somewhat plain to see." Neil said, flicking a spinning top that one of the youngsters had presented him. The child laughed with glee and clapped his hands, watching the top as if mesmerized. It spun in a blur on Neil's finger.
"Don't you dare insult our bravery!" Javier shouted, stomping forward threateningly. Neil nearly dropped the top at the sudden outburst, but he didn't seem perturbed or offended. Taya had seemed to have gotten somewhat cozy, albeit shyly, with the older boy at the table. As long as she didn't expect to steal him onto their ship, she could cast wayward glances all she wanted. Though both she and the boy shrank back when Javier yelled.
"I'm not insulting anybody. Just saying you've been down here a lot, right?" Neil asked, bumping the top up to spin midair before he caught it. The dexterous pilot knelt down and handed it to the boy. "I think it's smart you folk are down here, what with the kids. It's sort of why I don't want kids. Keeps me from doing fun shit like blowing stuff up and going on vacation." Javier still looked rightly pissed off, but Neil paid him no mind. "Anyway, can you tell us about who's controlling the Spiders?"
Junebug raised an eyebrow at that, curious herself. Javier's angered seemed to have disippated and he swallowed uneasily, suddenly nervous at the prospect of speaking about it. Magdalena spoke up instead. "His name is Ungol," She said, brow furrowed. She tugged at her braid absently. "I've only see him once from far off. He's half machine...and he's huge. He has six steel legs like-"
"Like a Spider." Neil finished.
"Spiders have eight legs." Junebug corrected him.
"Look, I know. But he has two arms as well, right?"
"They can't say I'm with you for your brains," She muttered teasingly. If Neil wasn't in front of the children and their parents he would have tackled her then and there. He just crossed his arms and mumbled to himself, and she ruffled his mane of hair. Magdalenda cleared her throat to draw attention, though it wasn't their attention. She gestured to multiple stacks of bowls, and one by one her kids got up and went to help serve the table.
"Please, sit. It's not often we have guests. Particularly ones who save our skins." The middle aged woman bade them, and returned to filling the bowls with a ladle. Javier for all his bluster didn't help. He just sat at the table with the guests, looking tired and put off by anything and everything. Neil guessed he was one of those men who did very little but worried over much and considered it 'working'.
"So where can we find Ungol?" Junebug asked as she was given her bowl. The question was met with abject silence. She didn't notice it until she had a spoonful of broth in her mouth. "What? We just met the Scorpion's leader."</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"What the fuck?" Miguel whispered on his comm. Neil could tell Miguel wasn't really passionate about taking risks. He was a 9-5 kinda guy. Still, the pilot was confused too, seeing Junebug heading down the ridge with a thirteen or fourteen year old carrying a rifle right behind her. He knew it was a kid but if he decided to turn that barrel on Sayeeda she'd have no chance of surviving. Taya behind the both of them should have made him feel at ease, but lo and behold it didn't. They might not be too far off, but with the sun glaring down on Neil he wasn't the crackshot he usually was.
"Who the hell is that?" Neil called to her when she was in earshot, vaulting over the back of the junker they'd been driving.
"Who the hell are you!?" The younger kid said, pointedly trying to make Neil not talk past him. Far from it, actually. Neil was a big kid himself. He knew kids were far smarter and more wiley than people gave them credit for. That being said...
"Who the fuck are you talking to!?" He yelled at the kid.
"Down boy. You're here to be pretty, not speak." Junebug remarked, trying to hide a smile from him. Neil gave her a look, knowing she was just trying to demasculate him in front of the kid. Taya had arrived to stand by the young shooter, and Neil thought they were pretty much the same size. It nearly made him laugh, but he decided to just poke Sayeeda more to explain what was going on. She acquiesced a moment later, taking the sling of her rifle off her shoulder and placing it beside her seat in the junker. "We're taking this kid back to his place."
"Is that cool with the boss?" He asked.
"We were hired to protect the caravan...we protected it. What does it matter we're a little late to making it back? They don't pay us to kill kids."
Neil tongued his toothpick, hefting his own gun in the sunlight. "You got it, Captain."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Judging by his increasingly demanding comm calls, Miguel was both confused and irritated by Sayeeda's new passenger. She made no reply to his transmissions simply staring out into the desert, which was probably unprofessional as he was technically the representative of her putative employer. At one point Miguel went so far as to swerve toward their car. Sayeeda reacted to this simply by laying her rifle across her lap, casually, but in a fashion that pointed the weapon at the Spider commander's jeep. The disrupter rifle was a formidable weapon but, as she had seen on Cylonikea, it lacked penetrating power. The solution had been to attach an underslung grenade launcher that she had stripped from an assault shotgun. The lancher was configured to fire self forging penetrators, copper discs seated against a small charge of explosive that would forge the plate into a spearhead of hypersonic metal. The weapon was designed to threaten light armored vehicles and would certainly gut a soft skin jeep like a rifle bullet opening a can of soup. Miguel probably didn't realize exactly what the weapon was, but it would be obvious to a fool that being on the other end of it was contra-indicated and he made a frustrated gesture and swerved away.
"What are you thinking?" Taya asked, clearly uneasy with the situation. The young woman had the most visceral distaste for the bandits but she was obviously determined not to be caught napping.
"For right now we are going to finish this job," Junebug said glancing sideways at Neil. The pilot didn't appear to have a reaction, which might be because he was thinking along the same lines as Junebug. The convoy rolled up out of the valley and over the low hillock at the end. A broad valley spread out before them, incongruous green due to irrigation channels that gathered a shallow river into weirs and canals that radiated outwards from the water like the bones of a fish. Small huts stood at intervals along the canals surrounded by a greenish orange crop with thick succulent leaves like beach grass. The hutts appeared to be made primarily of sheets of extruded plastic, often printed with the logos representing beers and soups and other canned goods. Judging by a half destroyed hutt on the edge of the town, the locals packed mud between two layers of the stuff to provide some insulation from the heat. Small kitchen gardens surrounded the huts, mostly beans, tomatoes, and other crops which could be trained to climb wooden lattices. Here and there, scrawny chickens wandered pecking at bugs and other fare among the plants. The locals toiled in the fields, picking the leaves and tossing them into woven wicker panniers or scooping buckets of water from the canals to pour into pvc piping that served as cheap drip irrigation. At the end of the village where the much diminished stream turned away to the west was a large shed sided with corrugated iron. Judging by the pile of picked leaves at one end and the barrels of transport matrix stacked haphazardly at the other, that was the … facility might be to grand a term, that the spiders used to stabilize and transport the narcotic leaves. Beyond the shed was a banked dirt road which followed the river. Along the top of the bank were a series of stakes, perhaps a half dozen, each decorated with a corpse in various stages of decay. Some were merely blackened skeletons but the latest one was ripe enough that the sound of vehicles cresting the ridge startled a swarm of flies into the air, though they returned just as quickly.
"What the fuck?" Taya exclaimed, pulling out her binoculars to get a better look. Seeing it up close didn't please her any more and she gagged slightly.
"You bastards did this!" the kid beside Taya snapped in a voice that clearly verged on tears.
"They shoot anyone who they think grows too much food and not enough drugs, or anyone that dosent grovel enough and they stake them up there," he spat. Junebug's mouth compressed into a frown but she didn't speak.
As the small convoy pulled up in front of the shed a dozen bored looking Spiders ambled out into the midday sun. Some of them looked like they might have been drunk or drugged, others scratched and swatted at insects but all were heavily armed. Miguel hopped from his jeep and started to stalk towards the trio of mercenaries. Before he could open his mouth however a woman in a dirty white dress let out a shout and rushed across from the nearest field.
"Rodrigo!" she shouted arms opened wide.
"Mama!" the sniper, apparently Rodrigo, shouted and tried to hop out of the car. Unfortunately the woman's run brought her past Miguel who grabbed her by the neck. The woman whipsawed in an almost comicbook fashion and let out a strangled squeak. Rodrigo let out a scream and grabbed for his rifle but Neil slapped his hand down on the weapon to prevent him from pointing it. There was a general stiffening as men grabbed for their own weapons.
"Looks like I get to wipe out a whole family of useless scum," Miguel commented, sounding very much like the cat who ate the canary as he drew a pistol and pointed it at the womans head.
"Hey," Junebug called, "they aren't paying us to shoot women and children."
"Shut it bitch, they aren't paying you at all! We know how to keep order in our own territory and we don't need no advice from snooty off world putas!"
"Funny," Junebug observed, "that wherever you go in the universe you will find someone willing to call you a bitch and a whore. Some things truely are universal.
"Junebug we can't just let…" Taya began but Junebug chopped the air to silence her as she vaulted over the side of the car and landed facing Neil, Taya and the boy.
"This train is about to start rolling kids," she told them in a quiet serious voice, "if anyone wants to get off, now is the time." Rodrigo stared at her in mute terror his eyes darting between her and his mother.
"You know I'm always ready to dance babe," Neil replied with a wink.
"Junebug… there are thirty of them…" Taya began, clearly not wanting to look afraid but also cognisant that they were out gunned to an almost ludicrous degree.
"Thirty seven," Junebug corrected, then turned and walked over to where Miguel stood. She had her rifle but she kept it pointed out the ground, her manner nonchalant and the thugs seemed to relax.
"Please spare my son!" the woman wailed imploringly, Miguel responded by clouting her with the barrel of his pistol hard enough that the gun came away bloody. There was a strangled shout from the car and Miguel grinned evilly.
"So goods delivered, jobs done right?" Junebug asked, her voice so casual that despite the tense situation the guards seemed to relax another degree. Miguel frowned as he clutched the moaning woman, clearly taken aback by the apparent non-sequitur.
"What are you talking about?" he demanded. Junebug made a gesture that looked like a shrug with her rifle.
"I mean, we have delivered the goods so the job is complete? Right?" she asked, making the same gesture with her weapon.
"Of course the job is complete you stupid…"
Junebug's left hand came out from behind her back and tossed something small and hard at Miguel. His attention had been on her disruptor rifle and so he was taken by surprise. The grenade hit him in the mouth with a clack of breaking teeth and then exploded in a blinding white light that made the midday sun seem like a distant candle. The blast was literally stunning to anyone looking at it, which she hoped wasn't Neil and Taya, but her helmet's sophisticated combat AI was able to blank her visor and harden her hearing protection to resist the concussion. It didn't protect her from the overpressure of the blast, but between her battle armor and years of experience she was still able to move. Sayeeda leaped towards Miguel tackling the woman to the ground a she caught her around the waist, the weight of her gear and armor bowling her over effortlessly. Gunfire erupted from all points as the gangsters tried to shake off the effects of the flashbang. Junebug picked the woman up and tossed her bodily into the nearest canal and then leaped after her, landing in the hip deep water in a spray of mud before whipping her weapon up to rest on the edge of the improvised trench and opening fire.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The flash bang lit Neil's eyes up like someone had brained him and he saw the white flash of death. He had managed to close his eyes just after it exploded, and he was wearing his shades, so while he didn't get the extreme brunt of the weapon's explosion, he did experience some real bad disorientation and a very picturesque image in his head of Junebug's stance and the surprised mercs. An image that was very much now outdated as Junebug had likely moved and the men had probably fallen over in surprise. Neil crouched down and closed his eyes, moving to the right where he recalled one of the ramshackle sheds stood.
He heard four rounds pop off to his left, and he recognized it as Junebug's rifle. A curse sounded from past Neil's position, and he heard three heavy thumps. They were likely falling bodies.
"Do you feel like killing someone Neil?" He said in a faux-Sayeeda tone, sarcasm dripping out of his lips. "You don't mind if I throw a flashbang do you? Nyeh nyeh nyeh."
Truth be told he was just being dumb. He actually preferred this all happen rather than letting the kid's mother die in front of his eyes. That and Junebug throwing her weight around was sexy as fuck. As long as they killed all these men and didn't let it get leaked back to Stinger, they would still have employment and make a mother and her kid very happy. He opened his eyes and saw his vision was more or less back, and he theorized he had about another four seconds before the merc's eyes came back to full capacity too, so he took the best of it and flipped the safety off his autogun.
Rather than join the captain, he went the opposite way to flank the mercenaries, raising the gun to his eyeline to aim with his ironsights. Crack, crack, crack! Three head shots, the bullets punching through scarfs and skulls. He switched to burst fire and started to fire once more, taking men in the heads, chests, arms, and lower backs. Dust kicked up and people began to scream as the mercs started firing back wildly. Neil cursed and rolled, taking a small hit in the lower leg. He stopped and saw blood streaked behind him but he checked and it had only been a glancing shot.
He turned his gun to full auto, 15 shots left and all of them were sprayed in two passes through the shed he hid behind, knowing the mercs were just on the otherside. Following the shots from Junebug and the wild ones from the mercs, Neil knew there was pretty much none of them left by the time he had expended his clip. Hastily shouldering the weapon along its strap, he took out his sidearm and aimed it ahead, stepping out to see Junebug rising from her position, seemingly satsified. Taya, for what training she had, was still crouched behind the little trench.
Rodrigo and his mother clutched one another, too shaken to really appreciate the moment just yet. Neil turned to see about a dozen dead bodies, punctured and ripped to shreds by all the gunfire. Miguel's head was bloated like a blood gorged tick, shattered teeth splattered across the ground.
"Man," Neil said. "That was some attack by the Spiders. Better go tell Stinger, eh?"</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
20 minutes later...
"This is insane." Taya said to the other two, now sitting underground in Magdalena's "home" with the others. "You can't possibly be suggesting what I think you are." The girl looked at Neil to see if he would be any voice of reason, but one look showed if it wasn't his idea, he still thought it was hilarious. "You need to at least WARN Saxon before you have a hundred people trying to go and kill him!"
"Look, of course we're going to warn him." Neil said, though he had this smile on his face that spoke volumes on the mental image he had in his head. Which for the record, was Saxon being assailed on all sides by men, left alone on this planet as Neil flew the Highlander away. He looked like he had to snap himself out of it. "In fact, he'll be elated. I bet he hasn't killed something in far too long. His bloodlust will be up and ready."
Sayeeda cleared her throat loudly, drawing Taya's and more importantly Neil's attention to Magdalena, her squeamish husband, and her multiple wide-eyed children staring at them. Neil took a sip of the water they had served them, nonchalantly drinking it as if he'd said nothing out of the ordinary. Sayeeda turned to the family, arms crossed under her chest. "You might want to send your children in the next room. We're about to speak business, after all."
The husband decided to usher the kids into the room, and in his no doubt infinite wisdom, decided to join them. Junebug tossed Neil his sidearm, having just cleaned it while Neil and Taya were talking. The Captain had her rump planted on the table, one knee up and foot on the back of a chair. "So, Magdalena. We've been thinking... We've been needing some money recently, as we're a bit dry. Luckily, we're not dry on ordinances and blood to sweat. So here's the deal." Neil watched Magdalena, guaging her reaction to Junebug. "You pay us 20 Terran Imperial credits and make us another meal, and we'll solve your problem."
"My...'problem'?" She asked, not understanding.
Neil grinned. "We'll kill the Scorpions and the Spiders. Sounds good?"</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"You are going to fight the Scorpions and Spiders? For twenty pesos?" Magdalena asked, clearly thinking she had either misheard or misunderstood. Junebug nodded her head sagely and Taya grinned openly. The idea had gained traction after the firefight at the unnamed village when the villagers had enthusiastically thrown the bodies of their oppressors into the flames of the burning processing shed. The locals had begged the off worlders to stay and celebrate, regaling them with tales of the brutality of the gangsters as they enthusiastically incinerated the bodies.
"But you said… you said it would take a… regiment?" Magdalena asked, stumbling over the unfamiliar words but with growing hope in her eyes. Junebug nodded and ran a hand through her hair. She wanted to get back to the highlander and take a bath and change, mud from the sluice trench had dried on her pants and in her boots, but they still had some things to do.
"I did, but I've been thinking about it, and it occurs to me that maybe there are two rather shitty regiments already here," she explained. Magdalena's eyes brightened.
"You mean the gangs, you are going to get them to fight each other?" Magdalena guessed, proving that even in unfamiliar territory her natural intellect stood her in good stead.
"They are not supposed to fight each other, the cartel on Kimberly tolerates the gangs so long as they keep the drugs flowing but if they go to war…"
"We are going to convince them that they can have the situation sewed up long before anyone on Kimberly even knows the balloon has gone up, trust me, these greedy bastards will go for it."
"Why are you doing this?" she asked with wonder in her voice. Junebug shrugged uncomfortably. The type of people who hired armored cavalry regiments were rarely people filled with light, purity and a genuine desire for the advancement of the human condition. She had suppressed rebels, crushed dissenters and captured empires for whoever was paying the Armored to do it and she hadn't really worried too much about the morality of any of it. It was Andor who made those contract after all and she was just fulfilling hers with him. Now though, she was picking the job, a fact which made her feel a little guilty she hadn't consulted with Neil or Taya before putting their necks on the line, and although she doubted she was about to become a crusader for Truth, Justice, and the Terran Way, there wasn't any reason she always needed to work for whoever was worst in any given situation. She smiled crookedly, ironically if Stinger had just paid out at the get go Junebug would have been honor bound to support her. It was a funny universe.
"Most places you go, the rot and corruption is so baked into everything that there is no way to ever get it out… here though… maybe its possible, even if it is going to be very, very, bloody."
Night was beginning to fall when they stepped out of the small shop. Magdalena was already closing up and barring the doors and windows before heading for her subterranean home. The rumble of trucks was already evident in the distance as the gunmen rode back from the fields, eager for booze, women and violence although not necessarily in that order.
"So how are we going do now?" Taya asked, excited but uncertain. Junebug drew a cigarette from her pack and ignited the striking pad with a flick of her finger.
"Well, Neil is going to go and report to the Stinger about how we were ambusheds by Spiders. You are going to go back to the ship… me… I think I'm going to get a drink…"</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil slid an apple down his arm and caught it nimbly, spinning it on his finger before plucking it out of the air. Whatever Junebug decided, he was on board for. He was just excited to get things going. Not having his conscience dirtied was a definite plus, and whatever loot they got from destroying both of these gangs was likely worth it. Though his Captain's orders caught up with his head before he bit the apple.
"Wait...What!?"
Fast forwarding an hour later, Neil had procured a ride from some of Stinger's associates who he had convinced it was in their best interest to get him to Stinger as fast as they could. There were three of them. One man was young and red haired. with a wild smile on his almost too-wide mouth, hollering and hooting at anything that looked vaguely female as he stood atop the passanger's seat. The driver was far more level headed, though suspicious. Neil couldn't quite get a bead on him, his face concealed in a strange mechanical mask with only one eye uncovered through a high tech optic scope.
Neil sat next to something that was either once a man, or a humanoid alien. The thing cackled louder than the douchebag up front, his body covered in fur and his face very Hyena-esque. At least he wore loose pants and a jacket. Neil was not prepared to be bumped into by some mutant/xenos and their junk.
As they approached, Neil saw guns trained their way at the bunkered, barbed wired fence. The lowest dregs of thuggery stood watch, various mechanical and organic vagaries attached or warped about them. Neil no doubt thought they would be formidable to fight in hand to hand or ranged, which was likely why they were the first line of defense. The one at the gate was the criminal Neil had seen last time he came here, when it was the first time. He had a large gun, likely 20 MM rounds.
"You got some balls coming back here." The man said, barrel on Neil. Even the Hyena-man had the good sense to move away. Neil didn't seem perturbed, though he held his hands up.
"Hey, hey! Come on, what's that for? I'm coming back to explain stuff."
"Well, if you've got a good explanation as to why Miguel and a dozen of our lads disappeared, maybe you can make it out alive." He chuckled, then screamed at the others. "Let them in!"
The rumbling of the cars were drowned out by the laughter of the watchmen, and Neil tried not to get nervous. Oh, he wasn't nervous about if Stinger was angry at him. Neil had been beaten, humiliated, and even tortured once or twice as a Highlander Crewmember. He was mostly afraid of Stinger's interest of him, and he would rather leave by giving her vague promises of some nature rather than having to refuse her and fight his way out. Not only because it would hinder their initial plan to pit the Spiders against the Scorpions, but because he wasn't about to betray Junebug's trust. When he told her about it though, she laughed and told him to be firm like she knows he can be. He had no idea what to make of that.
Pulling up to the fortified, ruined mansion, Neil hopped out and told them to keep the car running. Even without being able to see his face, the masked man gave Neil a look that essentially loudly asked if he was kidding. Neil just grinned and headed inside, past three men playing Bazrika, a fun electromagnet drinking game, and headed upstairs until he was ushered in to see Stinger. He sighed before the curtain was drawn, and stepped inside the room. He hoped she was in an agreeable mood, but not too agreeable.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Meanwhile...
Taya stumbled through the debris, catching herself on her front foot and turning, gun barrel leading. The young woman saw no one following, but the amount of thugs on this world she didn't trust simply not being able to see a foe. Holding her position for a few seconds, once she was satisfied Taya turned and hurried down the alleyway, finding the main road that led to the launchpad that held the Highlander, still stationed where the three had left it. This world was a bit poorer than most, and even now as she walked under the archway to the hanger she felt the dust and grime on her skin. She didn't say it, but she was still very much used to being pampered on her homeworld. The Captain and Neil's stoicism in the face of all they've had to deal with kept her mouth shut over broken nails or lack of hygiene, but now that she saw the Highlander before her, she wanted nothing more than to take a bath and wait for further instructions.
Once she put in the code, the Highlander's entryway door slowly lowered, air seeping out of the pistons, giving a hiss like a viper as it moved. She forgot how much she missed the sound of her boots on the hollow steel of the fallen door as she stepped into the ship, quickly placing in the code to close it behind her. Once the door was closed, she finally noticed the lights were out, and there was a hint of a strange smell in the air. Sniffing, she couldn't tell what it was. It was faint and likely unnoticeable if her senses hadn't already been on edge.
Groping in the dark, her fingers ran over the lighting toggle on the opposite wall. She gritted her teeth and lowered the thing, glad it wasn't stuck fast like it had been before. It creaked, but once it hit bottom the lights flooded the ship's interior. Now she could see everything in front of her, but nothing seemed different. Well, why would it be? She thought, and Taya began walking toward the cargo bay. Just put your gun up and go take a bath. Neil didn't install the bathing area for it to go unused. Her smile bloomed on her face, and she shimmied down the stairs leading to the cargo bay.
Once down there, she abruptly turned to the left where most of the arms and armor was stored, unstrapping her submachine gun and placing it carefully on the rack. She felt competent with it, but she knew the other two felt she had a lot to learn and she guessed she couldn't blame them. Losing your cool in a firefight was not entirely safe.
"Where are the others?" A deep voice sounded behind her. Her soul left her body for a brief moment before she recognized it as Saxon, calming down. He made her nervous at the best of times, but at least he wasn't an enemy out for her blood.
"They're still in town. They said they would call us whe-" She turned and looked behind her, her words drowning out in a scream of terror. Even a hardened soldier would have been disturbed at the sight. As she looked across the cargobay, she saw what looked to be Saxon's corpse on the floor, hollowed out and filled with various juices. Beside it stood a beast that resembled him, and she knew must be Saxon. It was clearly a Hexanagallion, but he had gone through some sort of metamorphosis! His massive, brutish arms now had bones like spikes protruding out of his arms, each a meter long. Under them on his broad chest were two smaller arms, now curled up. Smaller being relative, as they were thicker than Taya's limbs certainly. Other than those, the further bone-like protusions along his vital areas acting as a sort of natural armor, and the wet stickiness clinging to his naked skin (which had likely been the source of the smell) it was Saxon. So that was what he had gained from his healing?
"You uh...you look good." She said uneasily.
Saxon smiled. "I feel good."</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
If Neil had seen Junebug work, he would have been proud of her. As it were he was stuck in the shit can of an aircar he had come in on with the gangers and mutant, now heading out of the base and heading toward the Highlander. The scorpion boys knew they were going to be apart of Neil's squad as both back up and insurance; making sure Neil's crew stayed true to their word. It was the driver Neil was most concerned with. The mutant and the howler monkey of a shotgunner could be unpredictable but at least they were stupid. The cyborg kept a level head and maintained an eye on the road, though as soon as they reached the Highlander they would know they weren't heading to where Stinger had told them to go.
As they rumbled through the wasteland of a town, the last of the planet's suns was beginning to set. It would only be another hour before Stinger's men attacked the Spider compound. If Junebug hadn't made it out of there by the appointed time he was going to kill her. He honestly wanted to get off this planet when they could, but he guessed he can take some profit from the two gang's mutual destruction before they left. Sounded fun.
The mutant let out a jabbering cackle as a few of the townsfolk scattered like mice at their passing. The front man banged on the side of the car, laughing.
"I just saw some ass, stop the car Foga!"
The cyborg didn't reply, merely giving a glance at his companion's position before they zoomed toward the Highlander's position. The vehicle rounded the fence and entered the landing area, the Highlander's cargo bay open as if to unload a battle tank. All three of the gangers turned to look at Neil since he was the one that gave them the coordinates, clearly wondering why they were making a pit stop here, or if he had simply tricked them.
"Oh, we're just picking up some backup." Neil assured them, though he looked just as surprised as they did when Saxon stepped into view not a moment later. His transformation didn't make him much more intimidating, but he was certainly even more dangerous than he had been previously. The mere sight of the Hex gave the three brief pause, and even the cyborg seemed perturbed.
"A friend of yours?" He asked, trying to keep his voice steady. Taya bounded out of the ship and into view, waving at Neil. She was getting so used to weird situations she didn't even question the armed and deranged murderers and thieves he was riding with. Saxon pointed his wrist mounted rocket at the car, and though there was no love lost between he and Saxon, Neil was pretty confident he'd only fire if things went south.
"He could be a friend of yours too if you guys just hear out a small proposition I have for you."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The carousing was in full swing as Sayeeda was shoved none to gently out the front gate of the old cannery. With deliberate ostentation she shot the cuffs of her jacket and then began to walk north east towards the spaceport. The road was littered with drunks and junkies so she cut cross country through the cactus festooned scrub land. This place was not entirely free of the human ruin of Teosinte but such desperados and burn outs as populated the place gave her a wide berth. Pussy was cheap in the city and an obviously armed woman with a clear goal in mind apparently didn't tempt anyone overmuch.
Out away from the town itself the landscape took on a more pleasant air. Sayeeda wondered if more normal people might have enjoyed the warm night breeze and the subtle perfume of cactus flowers rather than calculating 290 degree sightline out to 15 clicks, noting several small gullies in which a half squad might be concealed, and mapping a line of retreat back to town and a break out towards the spaceport as possible options if attacked. Well she was who she was.
The spaceport lights, never entirely shut off grew brighter as she hiked across the increasingly barren landscape. Not many of these burned but several ancient flood lights provided a significant beacon. Not for the first time Sayeeda considered how shabby Teosinte was. There was plenty of money in the drugs that were produced here and it should have been enough to give the place at least a twadry splendor. Both gangs were clearly squeezing the people as hard as they could to hire gunmen and import the weapons and arms needed to keep them in the field, to the extent that term had any meaning to such bands of armed thugs, and the result was that what might be a tolerable place to do business was dying slowly on the vine. Not for the first time Sayeeda considered whether it might be better just to blast off now they had the charts the needed, find some other place and… and what? Find some other less risky more rewarding fight? The thought sobered her enough that for a moment she wished she had stopped at one of the bars for a bottle.
"Get your head in the game," she whispered harshly to herself as she reached the chainlink fence which served as the outer perimeter of the spaceport. She had notice on her initial landing that not only did it lack electricity or sensors, but it was so rusted that its use as a security screen was laughable. She parted it by the simple expedient of driving her boot into the ancient corroded links close to one of the support poles, close enough that the tension tore the metal appart with a musical twang. Slipping through she began to trace the blast wall, walking counter clockwise till she reached the back gate within thirty seconds of her mental projected arrival. It wasn't locked but their was a bar with several empty cans tied to it which would make noise if hastily removed. She pulled it aside with a clatter, cycled the door open and then slipped through, locking the door behind her. Passing through the underground access way, recessed into the dirt to prevent blast damage from obliterating the all she emerged onto the cracked concrete of the landing field. She could see the light of a jeep across beside the bulk of the Highlander and saw the familiar shapes of Saxon and Neil as well as Taya's golden hair. Saxon appeared to be holding a gun on several locals who seemed to be very sensibly avoiding any sudden movements.
"I'm coming in from the west," she broadcast over the comm after twigging the transmitter with a rewired nerve impulse. Saxon probably wouldn't shoot her by accident, but startling a team member in a tight situation wasn't a good move. Taya and Neil glanced her way and she jogged across the tarmac to join them.
"It is getting to be nearly time," she informed them, ignoring the locals, both of whom had their hands up. She squeezed Neil's shoulder briefly, glad that the Stinger hadn't decided t have him killed out of stupid spite.
"Just got to get some gear."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil grinned at her as she stepped past them, glad to see they had both made it back alive. In fact his eyes followed her until she entered the ship whilst Taya had to snap her fingers in front of his face to bring him back to reality. Just as he came back to his senses, he realized Saxon was growing impatient and was more like as not to shoot the three they had with them.
"Alright fellas, moment of truth. What'll it be?" Neil said. He had his experimental rifle trained on their position. Even Taya had a submachine gun, though Neil had made sure it was put on safety. The pilot never thought he'd find someone who was more impulsive with a firearm than he was, but he guessed anything was possible.
The mutant gave a low 'hyuk hyuk hyuk,' a sound that would have been comical coming from a human but sounded downright bestial from his strong inner throat. He spoke in garbled Terran, tongue likely a bit too cumbersome and long for him to effectively communicate like his brethren. "S-s-o as l-long as we transmport y-you to where y-you need to gco, y-you'll let us l-live and be the bosses of what's
l-l-left?"
"As long as you treat the civilians right, sure. But we'll come back if you don't." Neil replied with a shrug.
"N-n-no eating t-them?"
"No, no eating them! ... I mean I guess you can eat jerks and stuff, but they had to have done something really terrible." Neil said and Taya giggled. He was glad the movement hadn't made her submachine gun go 'click.' "So, are you guys in or do we have to kill you?"
"We're in." the Cyborg said merely a moment before Neil was certain Saxon would have obliterated them. The pervert seemed to have sobered up quite a bit, though Neil wasn't so sure he liked him like this. He seemed even more prone to being trigger happy than Taya. Saxon seemed unhappy he didn't get to destroy something, but Neil knew there would be plenty of that very soon. "I've always wanted to put a gun in that bitch's mouth and pull the trigger, and I have no love for the Spiders either. As long as you promise to get rid of them both, we're in."
"SOLD!" Neil said, walking up and shaking the stunned cyborg's hand. "Good doing business with you. We don't have a document to sign, so we'll just use your lives as collateral." As soon as Junebug was ready, they would depart for the Drug Factory, just in time to meet the other forces of the Scorpions.</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The carousing was in full swing as Sayeeda was shoved none to gently out the front gate of the old cannery. With deliberate ostentation she shot the cuffs of her jacket and then began to walk north east towards the spaceport. The road was littered with drunks and junkies so she cut cross country through the cactus festooned scrub land. This place was not entirely free of the human ruin of Teosinte but such desperados and burn outs as populated the place gave her a wide berth. Pussy was cheap in the city and an obviously armed woman with a clear goal in mind apparently didn't tempt anyone overmuch.
Out away from the town itself the landscape took on a more pleasant air. Sayeeda wondered if more normal people might have enjoyed the warm night breeze and the subtle perfume of cactus flowers rather than calculating 290 degree sightline out to 15 clicks, noting several small gullies in which a half squad might be concealed, and mapping a line of retreat back to town and a break out towards the spaceport as possible options if attacked. Well she was who she was.
The spaceport lights, never entirely shut off grew brighter as she hiked across the increasingly barren landscape. Not many of these burned but several ancient flood lights provided a significant beacon. Not for the first time Sayeeda considered how shabby Teosinte was. There was plenty of money in the drugs that were produced here and it should have been enough to give the place at least a twadry splendor. Both gangs were clearly squeezing the people as hard as they could to hire gunmen and import the weapons and arms needed to keep them in the field, to the extent that term had any meaning to such bands of armed thugs, and the result was that what might be a tolerable place to do business was dying slowly on the vine. Not for the first time Sayeeda considered whether it might be better just to blast off now they had the charts the needed, find some other place and… and what? Find some other less risky more rewarding fight? The thought sobered her enough that for a moment she wished she had stopped at one of the bars for a bottle.
"Get your head in the game," she whispered harshly to herself as she reached the chainlink fence which served as the outer perimeter of the spaceport. She had notice on her initial landing that not only did it lack electricity or sensors, but it was so rusted that its use as a security screen was laughable. She parted it by the simple expedient of driving her boot into the ancient corroded links close to one of the support poles, close enough that the tension tore the metal appart with a musical twang. Slipping through she began to trace the blast wall, walking counter clockwise till she reached the back gate within thirty seconds of her mental projected arrival. It wasn't locked but their was a bar with several empty cans tied to it which would make noise if hastily removed. She pulled it aside with a clatter, cycled the door open and then slipped through, locking the door behind her. Passing through the underground access way, recessed into the dirt to prevent blast damage from obliterating the all she emerged onto the cracked concrete of the landing field. She could see the light of a jeep across beside the bulk of the Highlander and saw the familiar shapes of Saxon and Neil as well as Taya's golden hair. Saxon appeared to be holding a gun on several locals who seemed to be very sensibly avoiding any sudden movements.
"I'm coming in from the west," she broadcast over the comm after twigging the transmitter with a rewired nerve impulse. Saxon probably wouldn't shoot her by accident, but startling a team member in a tight situation wasn't a good move. Taya and Neil glanced her way and she jogged across the tarmac to join them.
"It is getting to be nearly time," she informed them, ignoring the locals, both of whom had their hands up. She squeezed Neil's shoulder briefly, glad that the Stinger hadn't decided t have him killed out of stupid spite.
"Just got to get some gear."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil grinned at her as she stepped past them, glad to see they had both made it back alive. In fact his eyes followed her until she entered the ship whilst Taya had to snap her fingers in front of his face to bring him back to reality. Just as he came back to his senses, he realized Saxon was growing impatient and was more like as not to shoot the three they had with them.
"Alright fellas, moment of truth. What'll it be?" Neil said. He had his experimental rifle trained on their position. Even Taya had a submachine gun, though Neil had made sure it was put on safety. The pilot never thought he'd find someone who was more impulsive with a firearm than he was, but he guessed anything was possible.
The mutant gave a low 'hyuk hyuk hyuk,' a sound that would have been comical coming from a human but sounded downright bestial from his strong inner throat. He spoke in garbled Terran, tongue likely a bit too cumbersome and long for him to effectively communicate like his brethren. "S-s-o as l-long as we transmport y-you to where y-you need to gco, y-you'll let us l-live and be the bosses of what's
l-l-left?"
"As long as you treat the civilians right, sure. But we'll come back if you don't." Neil replied with a shrug.
"N-n-no eating t-them?"
"No, no eating them! ... I mean I guess you can eat jerks and stuff, but they had to have done something really terrible." Neil said and Taya giggled. He was glad the movement hadn't made her submachine gun go 'click.' "So, are you guys in or do we have to kill you?"
"We're in." the Cyborg said merely a moment before Neil was certain Saxon would have obliterated them. The pervert seemed to have sobered up quite a bit, though Neil wasn't so sure he liked him like this. He seemed even more prone to being trigger happy than Taya. Saxon seemed unhappy he didn't get to destroy something, but Neil knew there would be plenty of that very soon. "I've always wanted to put a gun in that bitch's mouth and pull the trigger, and I have no love for the Spiders either. As long as you promise to get rid of them both, we're in."
"SOLD!" Neil said, walking up and shaking the stunned cyborg's hand. "Good doing business with you. We don't have a document to sign, so we'll just use your lives as collateral." As soon as Junebug was ready, they would depart for the Drug Factory, just in time to meet the other forces of the Scorpions.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug came down the ramp in a series of rattling thuds that drew all eyes to her.
"Whoa," Neil commented and even Taya who had been privy to what Junebug had been spending her time on during Neil's 'funeral' ceremonies on Cyloneika, looked impressed. She had changed out of her familiar battlegear and was dressed now in the suit of powered armor she had began work on years ago. The suit was of the same brownish tan ceramic her chestplate was made of, indeed the repair kit for her original armor had been used to provide the outer layer of this suit, the inner core consisted of sandwiched layers of kevlar/monocrystal composite, which was relatively light weight though the armor would still have been hard to maneuver without the power assist of the servos built into it. The mechanical guts of the armor had been cannibalized from a mobile surgical unit whose laser scanners and other imaging software as well as ultra precise servo controllers kept the armors guide points a few millimeters from Sayeeda's skin as she moved, giving her a fluid control that differed little from her natural movement. A pair of power cells were perched between her shoulder blades, protected by sharply angled armor plates. The helmet was also based on her usual commo helmet, though the addition of sensors, an imporved heads up display and a more sophisticated commo suite had bulked it up to a point that it didn't seem out of place with the extra three inches in height she gained from the armor. The faceplate was matte black due to simple filtering, though it could be changed on command to be clear or mirrored. Slung across her chest was a two millimeter rail gun. The weapon had three barrels, each of which accellerated a small glass pellet up a spiraling track before they exited the barrel at close to a hundred thousand feet per second. It was designed to be a vehicle mounted point defense weapon and would have had two much kick to wield without the extra mass of the armor, even so a boxy gyroscopic stabalizer hung just forward of the magazine, designed to cut down on the prodigious torque the weapon would create. A large pistol designed for the larger hands of a Hex hung at her belt as a back up, and her familiar submachine gun, looking toy like against the bulk of the new suit, was strapped to her thigh in case of real emergency. The final touch to the small arsenal was a wrist mounted grenade launcher, its drum magazine cannibalized two wrap around her right arm in a spiral, allowing her to select from different munition types on the fly. Sayeeda would have preferred just to hang grenades from her armor, but Taya had pointed out that the kind of fine motor control she needed to use them might be harder in the armor and that hanging a bunch of munitions where they could be cooked off by enemy fire somewhat defeated the point.
"What?" Sayeeda asked innocently as she climbed into the jeep beside Neil, the suspension creaking under the sudden addition of the armors considerable weight.
"If I'm going to go to the ball the least I can do is dress formal," she said with a grin that was audible through her helmet speakers.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"...Did I give you that suit?" Neil asked, trying to drudge up a vague memory of an early gift he had gotten her. It was before they had even started dating.
"You gave me the prototype of the prototype that served for the basis of this model, only in the loosest sense I guess." She replied casually, her smirk beaming through the reinforced glass of her helm. Neil sat there, marveling at Junebug in her powered armor, giving him cheek while he was her unarmored designated driver, within a stolen vehicle surrounded by conscripted mutants, a young aristocratic stowaway, and a giant lizard alien. After hesitating, he shook his head and muttered. "I'm going to marry her, I swear." As the vehicle cranked to life, the engine thrumming with power as the thing began to wobble from the sheer weight of the party, particularly Saxon and Junebug in her armored state. Checking the meter of the weight limit, he saw the bar nearly at the tipping point.
"Try not to move around too much! We're only going a short way, but one big lurch and we'll bank into a building!" He warned. Taya clenched her teeth, feeling hot breath on her cheek to see the hyena-mutant smiling at her, though whether it was because he thought she was attractive or just something to devour, she wasn't sure. Thankfully, Saxon sitting head and shoulders above the rest kept the mutants in check as the aircar sped off out of the hanger and over the causeway that clung to the diameter of the town. Even as they rode, the streets were all but deserted as if from a natural phenomenon like the calm before a vast storm, and the men and women who they caught out scattered into their homes as first sight of them, clearly thinking they represented one of the two gangs.
The town was now to their right, the lights dimmed by the bulk of the buildings, though they still served as a beacon of civilization. It wasn't long before they wound through some of the dead hills right outside where they promised to rendezvous with Stinger, the hills giving good cover to them so her embittered rival wouldn't see them despite his plans to bypass her and attack her base, courtesy of Junebug.
"So, we have a few options babe." Neil started, wind whipping his dark hair. "A few of us could jump out and we go and surround a perimeter, we could all stop at a single place and sneak in, report to one of the bosses or just ram this aircar up their asses. What do you think?"</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil grinned, emboldened by his theatrics and Junebug's approval. The fire from the detonations were a sheen off his glasses, and he turned to follow his girlfriend and superior officer, hefting his gun and reloading three grenades in it. Junebug had more hands on experience than Neil in ground operations, but he was still a veteran compared to most his age, and if there was one thing he knew, it was explosive devices.
Behind them, Saxon snorted. Though Neil guessed it was a huff of complaint, the big xenos stamping his hoofed feet in the dirt of the wasteland. "Do you suggest we leave these men here?" He growled from deep within his throat. "Once we start shooting, they'll turn on us and be at our flanks!"
Neil and Junebug turned back at him simultaneously, Taya jogging past him to get as far away from the annoyed Hex and the gangers now looting the drugs as she could. It was only the mutants that had stayed at the vehicle that kept her from leaping in, though Neil had to admit he was surprised the three hadn't driven off. He guessed they were afraid enough of Junebug's armor and Saxon to really mess with the group. Neil also had to admit Saxon had a point when it came to the group they had just worked with, as they'd betray them on a dime once the real shooting started. Though the pilot also knew Saxon's real reason for giving such sound logic: He was impatient for action.
"Well, I don't see the problem with Saxon taking out this group while we move on ahead. Do you, captain?" Neil asked aloud. With the glare of the fire, he couldn't read her face. But she turned, her voice echoing out of the speakers of the suit. "Fair enough, just kill paco quick. He was a funny one." She quipped, now moving forward again. She added a last addition as she stepped past the vehicle. "And don't take long! We'll probably need you soon."
A Hexanagallion's smile was a disturbing sight, even to someone who was more learned in their physiology like Neil. Saxon craned his head high, stretching his neck as he overlooked the area, before lowering it and turning his hulking, saurian form towards the warehouse, just as the men began piling packages of drugs and other goods into the trucks. Neil made a sign to Gideon, then ran to catch up to Junebug.
"What about us!?" The lead mutant asked, but Junebug had already marched out of earshot. That or she deigned not to acknowledge their presence. Neil halted at the aircar and shrugged.
"You fellas were good set pieces, but now we kind of don't need you anymore. If I were you I'd get the hell out of here, or keep Taya safe in the aircar." Neil casually let his grenade launcher rest on his hand, the barrel pointing straight at the vehicle to showcase just what would happen if they took any advantage of Taya while they were gone. "In fact, you're going to guard her. Taya, get in the driver's seat and keep the aircar out of sight until we call."
As if he had plucked the beacon out of the air, Neil planted a small device on the hood of the vehicle. It gave a small light that flashed every other moment, softly enough not to be seen at any great distance. "If any of you three don't keep her safe and unharmed, we'll follow you to the ends of the galaxy and buttfuck you out of existence, sound good?"
"No need to threaten us." The head mutant said, visibly shaken. "We'd cross Stinger before you guys, even if you weren't holding us at gunpoint." Neil believed him. Their group was pretty intimidating and fairly technologically advanced for such a backwater world. With that, Neil jogged after Sayeeda, ready to take on both gangs at once.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
By the time they reached the city the party had well and truely kicked off. The night was rent by the clatter of gunfire and the whine of plasma blasts, the backwash of which reflected off the sides of the taller buildings like flickering blue witchlight. Sayeeda hoped that the local civilians were keeping their heads down, though there would be no such thing as safety tonight. Well perhaps in Magdelena's subterrainian dwelling and places like it.
Neil and Sayeeda headed for where the gunfire was thickest. The bodies and damage grew increasingly heavy as they moved towards the Stinger's manor. Infact they were less than a street away when they encountered the first spiders, a trio of men huddling in an alleyway trying to keep out of sight.
"Kill them!" one of the men shouted, his eyes white with terror. Neil shot him through the bridge of the nose, the heavy round smashing him back into the alley wall with a spray of blood. Sayeeda's railgun split the air, cutting the second man in half and shattering the adobe wall behind him. The third thug managed to half turn before a second round from Neil excavated the back of his skull. They moved up the alley without words, peering from the end of it towards the manor. They were behind a ragged line of Spiders, all taking cover behind wrecked vehicles and tumbled walls. It seemed their improvised combat vehicles had been of little help as both converted tractors were burning and spewing thick black smoke. The spider attack had obviously caught the scorpions by surpise and they had nearly won the day based solely on that single stroke of initiaive. The attack had finally bogged down at the gates of the Scorpions mansion, where the improvised earthworks and heavy weapons had provided natural rallying points for fleeing Scorpion gunmen. Fire whipped between the two positions and men shouted and cursed, or screamed in terror as they continued to fire in almost blind panic.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The crack of Neil's rifle resounded only after the slugs had torn through two of the Spider gangmembers, leaving exit wounds you could slip your fist through without fear of bloodying your hand. To his right, Sayeeda had vaulted over a dismantled car and disptached two others, though Neil didn't see the gritty details of what transpired. He only saw her walk out and blow a bit of hair out of her eyes. He noticed she would need to put it in a bun soon. It would probably be a good look for her if she let it continue to grow.
"Rearguard is down." She said conversationally. They weren't far from one another, but it was still more expedient to use comms than to draw attention to themselves. A few stray gunshots weren't likely to draw attention, but unknown voices were a different story.
Neil grinned, reloading his gun. Not that he wasn't going to use it for his next trick. He reshouldered the strap on it and pulled aside his grenade launcher, the familiar weight of the loaded weapon somehow intensely satisfying in his hands. Neil saw Sayeeda give him a movement signal, something she had begun to teach him a few months previously. He wasn't 'fluent' if that was the word, yet. But he knew she meant to go further right, and Neil already knew his next position. He passed by a few scrap heaps of burning metal, vaguely aware they were aircars that had exploded. Likely from explicit detonation. The pilot made it to a rudimentary dumpster and climbed atop it, before vaulting onto the roof of a outerlying, boldly placed home. It was still a good distance from his position to the fence that guarded the Scorpion base, but he had used grenade launchers enough to know if something was too far to be out of effective range. It was right in the sweet spot.
He only caught another glimpse of Junebug's lithe form slinking through the dark, until she was completely out of sight. He got comfortable, placing a foot on the edge of the roof and resting his grenade launcher against his shoulder, leveling its scope with his eye. He waited, watching the night flash with gunshots and laser beams, accompanied by muffled shouts of curses and threats. He almost started to idly whistle, but he received his captain's "in position" not a moment too soon.
"Show time, babe." He told her on comm. It was the last thing she'd hear of him before there was a brief silence, followed by the destruction of vast swathes of the scorpion fence, along with dozens and dozens of wounded and dead spiders at their vulnerable rear. Shrapnel and flame whipped out and cut through tendons and sprayed blood along their comrades. Neil felt somewhat guilty about the PDST he was causing for some, but it was swiftly lost by the beautiful spouts of flame and destruction he had caused.
This time he did whistle. Appreciatively.</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Hot," Junebug commented. Softly as the rear of the line exploded in great geyzers of rolling flame. For a moment she felt like she ought to be ordering a platoon of tanks forward into the breech torn in an enemy line by an artillery barage. But there were no tanks, only her and Neil. Junebug raced forward through the smoke, leaping over a ruined adobe wall. All was chaos now. The Spiders and Scorpions had never been soldiers, but now any semblence of discipline was gone. Junebug saw one spider, stunned and bleeding, shoot another simply because he was a shape moving in the haze. Many more were simply throwing down their weapons and fleeing. Junebug fired her railgun methodically, every two seconds, simply swinging her reticule onto one heat signature after another and squeezing the trigger, careful not to overheat the weapon. Even so she felt the heat of of the glowing barrel against her armor, make work done in the hold of the Highlander not quite up to the task of properly cooling so potent a weapon.
A knot of resistance was forming at the entrance to the Spider's compound. The Scorpions had taken the worst of Neil's efforts and the Spider's were beginning to capitalize. Sayeeda targeted the strong point and fired, blasting sandbags and the weapon behind appart in a spraying fireball of white hot glass. She pulled a grenade from her belt and tossed it over the ruin, waiting a second for the concussive pop and the fingers of white smoke spread by the grains of white phosphorus. Scream tore from the a dozen throats and burning men scattered in all directions, clawing at their flesh. Sayeeda charged into the breech, her armor protecting her from the unspent grains which still hissed and popped. A spider leaped at her. She caught him, servos in the armor whining and then pitched him sideways into a concrete pillar with an audible crack. He slumped, legs slack and screaming. Junebug put a round through his chest, unwilling to leave a crippled man who could still pull a trigger at her back. A bullet spanged off her breastplate and she spun, dropping another attacker with a punch that shattered his jaw in a spray of blood and bone. Swinging her railgun she smashed the skull of a cowering thug and then felled three more with a long burst of atomized blood and burning clothing. The gangsters, accustomed to swaggering casual violence, were unable to handle the sudden and savage concentration delivered by a professional. They broke and ran. Junebug followed rail gun cracking as quickly as her optics could pick out targets in the smoke.
"I think we are going to..." Junebug's trasmission cut off suddenly as something massive and hot slammed into her chest. The sky cartwheeled overhead and she crashed through the adobe wall of one of the dwellings which had survived Neil's detonation. A table broke beneath her in a spray of splintering timber and the breath was driven from her chest. She lay there, stunned and unable to move. Electrical discharge sparked over her chest and the reek of burning insulation filled her nostrils.
"I knew it was you bitch," a voice called from the hole she had blasted in the wall. Sayeeda couldn't turn her head. Her eyes flicked downwards moving through menus of her armors display. They flickered and disolved into static, a confused mass of damage reports and critical failure messages. The Spider stepped into view flanked by three thugs. She was in battle dress and carried a light anti tank rifle. A single shot piece which Sayeeda knew to be effective against light armored units at close range. The Spider was either very good or had gotten very lucky to hit her. Or both of course. The woman stood over her, thumbing another fist sized charge into the smoking breech of her weapon.
"I told your boyfriend not to fuck with me. Apparently he didn't convey my message..."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Stinger's grin was lost when flame and shrapnel erupted behind her. Had she not been sporting her armor, she might have been seriously wounded. As it stood, the grenade had passed her and hit the back wall within the compound, engulfing one of her gangers and knocking the other two against the wall. The mob boss was flung forward, her body and rifle slamming into Junebug to send them both tumbling into the grime and dirt.
"Dammit," Neil cursed, lowering his weapon when he saw he couldn't shoot one without killing the other in the process. He holstered the grenade launcher on his back and swung about his rifle, flipping off the safety with a 'click'. "Guess it's a cat fight." He quipped, joking of course. Despite the dismissive name, he knew if he leapt into the tussle he'd have no better chance than either of coming out on top. Junebug was more than a match for him in their wrestling matches most of the time and Stinger looked like she was used to killing men larger than her to reach her position.
He leaped off the roof of the building and aligned his battle-rifle to his eye. Immediately the darkened night was flooded with light through the scope as he surveyed the area quickly. The explosions had cast the battle into an all-out quagmire. Bullets and laser rang out through the night across battleline. Neil saw two mutants struggling on the ground, both stabbing at one another with strangely shaped knives. Upon further inspection, he saw they were shivs made from broken aircar parts. Neil passed them, hefting his rifle and discharging a shot, taking a spider in the next. His next shot blew a gout of blood out of the head of a scorpion that had poked his head out too far from the sandbags.
A bullet punched into his flack fest, causing him to grunt. He turned from where he felt the bullet hit and fired at a ganger caught with a dumb look on his face. The round punched through his groin, sending him to the ground.
"Gotta get to Sayeeda..." He told himself.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug was momentarily face to face with the Spider, the woman's face contorted in shock and fear. That momentary startlement transmuted quickly into rage as she realized she hadn't been badly hit. She rolled on top of Sayeeda and pulled a knife from a sheath at her waist, the point glinting above Junebug. The armor was proof against most attacks but she didn't doubt a determined enemy could find a seam to work the blade into. She paged frantically though the restart menus but couldn't get the armor to boot up. Whatever damage the anti-vehicle round had done, it had been severe.
"Can't get your fancy suit to work?" the Spider sneered, leaning down to drag the point of her knife across the visor of the helmet. Gunfire was beginning to slacken outside though the goon who had survived Neil's grenade attack was firing his rifle out into the night, using the hole her armor had punched in the adobe wall as a firing port.
"That is the problem with all you offworlders who come to Teosinte, thinking you are so fucking clever, you always get too clever for your own good." The stinger stabbed the knife down at the visor. It struck the plasteel and deflected away. Cursing the gang boss tried again with as little effect. Getting wise she found the neck seam and began to probe with the point.
"You just lay there and die like a good little..."
Junebug triggered the suits critical fail. Spending a life in armored vehicles gives one a healthy fear of being trapped inside after the vehicle has been crippled. More than one tanker ended their days screaming as fire consumed their vehicle as they pounded at a stuck hatch. Junebug had harbored similar concerns about the suit and had allayed them by spreading an ounce of blasting paste along a machined grove where the armor mated. She triggered it by doubletapping a small switch in her right gauntlet. The armor burst away from her body in a wash of heat as its connections were literally blasted appart. The Stinger screamed and tumbled back, beating a flames on her leggings. The effect was stunning, but Junebug had been ready for it. She rolled free of her ruined armor and snatched for one of the fallen rifles. The Stinger, her reactions damned quick despite the concussion of the blast, lunged forward with her knife. Junebug parried clumisly with her weapon as though at bayonet drill and then drove the butt of it down into the gangsters chest. Whatever armor she had there cushioned the blow but it was powerful enough to send her crashing back into a ruined cabinet. Junebug swung the rifle up and pulled the trigger. The weapon clacked and seized as one of the brass cartriges fouled the loading mechanism. The Stinger barked out a laugh and lunged at her with the knife. Junebug tried to parry but her opponent was wise to that and the blade raked up her arm shredding the body suit she had been wearing and sending a flash of pain through her body. Sayeeda drove a knee up in a blow that would have broken bone if the Stinger had been unarmored. As it was the knife weilding woman was lifted an inch from the ground and staggered back. Junebug delivered a spinning kick which connected with her opponents shoulder, pitching her back across the room and slamming her face against the wall. With the agillity of a street fighter the Stinger came round, blood on her lips and knife in hand.
"You will have to do better than that, I've been killing with a knife since I was a child," the bloodied gangboss snarled. Junebug rolled her eyes.
"Do you ever shut up?" she demanded, raising both her fists into a guard posture. The Stinger shrieked in rage and rushed forward, blade held low. Junebug stamped on the edge of a piece of shattered timber, spinning it into the air and spoiling her opponents footwork. The Stinger stumbled but came on slashing with her blade. Junebug struck out with a feint that lifted her opponents gaze and then delivered a punishing strike to her opponents elbow, forcing her to drop the knife. Pivoting off the momentum she delivered a stomping kick to the inside of the Stinger's knee. THere was an audible pop and the woman screamed and went down. Junebug took a step towards the downed woman but the Stinger came up with a grenade in her hand, handle primed.
"Over so quickly, well I guess I can take my time with your boyfriend when I find him, I'm going to..." the threat trailed off in a scream made tinny by the boom of Neil's handgun. The Stinger's wrist exploded like a tree bursting in the winter frost. Without thinking about it Junebug kicked the hand, sending the grenade flying out into the night where it burst with a crump that threw Junebug to the ground. She blinked the spots from her eyes and then saw Neil's face appear in the hole in the wall. He looked down at the Stinger but she was already dead, having caught a piece of grenade shrapnel with the back of her skull.
"That," Junebug commented, "Is fucking team work."</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The Highlander was unique in many ways, but it certainly sounded like a ship. There was always an ever present hum in the air, from the power, to the engines, to the small beeps the various computers would make around every corner. Tanya had finally begun to get used to it, but Neil and Sayeeda were accustomed to it for many years, albeit through different circumstances. It was nice to be back there after being so long planetside, particularly in the dump they had just left. Neil still felt like he smelled like mutant gangers everywhere he went. Thank Gideon it was worth it. All that stolen ordnance and a few thousand units of credit added to their databooks for their trouble, most of it illicit but that didn't matter worth shit.
Saxon had begun hibernating again. He had slaughtered most of the spiders, and even a few scorpions; devouring the men he could and spitting out the particularly mutated, commenting on how sour or unpleasant they were. He equated it to eating a burnt piece of meat. There was a bland, disagreeable quality to them if they were heavily irradiated enough. Neil had never tried human, or mutant for that matter, but he would take Saxon's word for it. It seemed his evolved form had a high metabolism and needed rest if a lot of energy was expended, and so now the hulking bounty hunter slept peaceably for once in the cargo hold.
"Glad t' 'ave you lads and lasses back, first mate. But ye havnae given any coordinates." Lonney remarked, being given his default 'highland' voice setting.
"That's because we don't know where the fuck to go yet, Lonney." Neil remarked, slowing down their sublight engines so they could orbit a nearby moon, switching off all power but life support, gravity, and the auxiliary, making the ship undetectable to anyone that wasn't specifically looking hard in their area. The pilot placed his hands behind his head and kicked back, feet on the dash as it were. "Me and the captain will need a word before we go anywhere, and she's somewhere around here."
"Aye, lad. In the meantime, we 'ave heated water an' coffee. 'Ad plenty o' time to heat stuff up while you lot were down there, ya ken?"
"Yeah, it took longer than I thought, I'll admit. But all in all, it was a bonding experience." Neil replied, gazing out of the display. The moon, Gamera IV, was purple in hue and littered with so many craters it nearly had a uniform, smooth look to it.</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil side eyed her, bits of noodles half sucked into his mouth. He hadn't been expecting Taya to ask this of them, though he guessed it was going to happen eventually. Had she been holding it in the entire time they were fucking with the Scorpions and the Spiders? Taya did seem resolute, even staring Sayeeda down. Neil could just barely do that and he'd fucked her, and he could only do that because he was crazy.
"Taya, I know we're not ones to shy from throwing caution into the wind and endangering ourselves. But usually there's something to gain from it." He reasoned, swallowing and promptly shoveling more into his mouth. His cheeks were stuffed like a squirrels, as if he was afraid food would grow scarce and he'd have store it.
"You'll be rewarded!" She exclaimed as she threw her hands out.
"You don't know that!" He laughed, pointing at her.
Taya rolled her eyes and mocked. "YoU dOnT kNoW tHaT."
"Oh you're trying to out-child me!? That is adorable." Neil slammed his hand on the table, prepared to be as immature as possible and winding out before Junebug gave him a look. He gave her a look back but rather than say anything he sank back into the chair, gingerly lifting his hands up and exhaling as he continued. "I guess we can go take a look. The Terrans might have a reward for some info or some solid evidence of what happened if nothing else."
"That could be a good point," Junebug remarked, unconvinced but tired of the debate. Truth be told, Neil and Junebug weren't against going other than the lack of assured profit. It was just hard seeing Taya with such surety when, in all likelihood, everything and everyone she has ever known was likely dead.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Two Weeks Later
"I cannot believe..." Neil huffed as he pitched one of the sacks of coffee onto the waiting cart. "That you actually sold this." The cart, a simple wooden affair that wouldn't have been out of place on Old Terra, was even drawn by two honest to god horses. They both whickered nervously as Saxon marched passed and tossed four sacks onto the back of the creaking wagon. It probably wasn't a real concern that Saxon would eat the beasts, but they were clearly not in a mood to take chances. Junebug pitched her own sack onto the growing pile with a puff of coffee dust. She wasn't sweating yet, enhanced biology and all, but she could feel the strain.
"Technically," she said, blowing a lock of hair out of her face. "I only traded it." The freeze dried instant coffee had been old when Sayeeda had purchased it and had sat in the back of the hold for well over a year as they tripped from crisis to crisis before Ateran, finally, provided a market.
Ateran was a backwater at the backend of a backwater. Far from the trade lanes and the commerce of the galaxy, isolated by notoriously unfavorable and unreliable RIP currents. If past navigational patterns held, never a certainty, it would only be a functional shortcut for a few weeks before the currents shifted and left it isolated. While it held though, it provided the perfect way to cut across the Sigma Arm and back towards Taya's home. On average Ateran was a cold world. Large icecaps covered nearly a quarter of the planet, with only a narrow band of temperate land around the equator. The upside was that due to minimal axial tilt, there wasn't much of a winter, with a gentle alternation between balmy summer and fall without much of a winter. It boasted little accessible mineral wealth, although orbital scans suggested considerable deposits deep beneath the polar ice, to expensive to be easily accessed in a world where asteroid mining was the norm. Atrean was the kind of place that attracted a particular kind of settler. The colonists on Ateran were a religious community who were interested in living a simple life. The Fellowship of Man, as they styled themselves had come from civilized planets deeper into the core of human space. They had scraped together their credits and purchased a clapped out bulk freighter for a one way trip to the holy land. It wasn't such an uncommon tale, though it more frequently ended in capture by pirates or simply vanishing into the RIP on a ship that should have been scrapped years ago. Even those that made it were rarely successful, religious communes were usually short on construction experience, agricultural expertise, medical training and just about everything else needed to make a colony thrive. The Fellowship of Man had beaten those odds however. Partly that was because Ateran, though unpromising by conventional standards, was ideal for the kind of pastoral life the colonists pined for. The second factor was that the Fellowship had been willing to keep their luddite tendencies in check for a few decades, making use of construction equipment, sophisticated agritech and gene modding to lay the foundations of their new Eden. Once established they had let the skills fade. Now only a few of the original colonists remained, retired to rural life surrounded by their pious progeny.
"What do these cretins trade," Saxon hissed, pitching another two hundred pounds of coffee into the back of the wagon.
"Cotton they grow here produces a biolumincent pigment," Sayeeda explained, holding up a hand to stop the loading. THe cart, sturdy as it was, couldn't take much more.
"They weave it into a textile they call shimmercloth, which they are happy to trade for coffee, and which we can turn around back in the civilized galaxy for a big pay out."
"I guess they aren't taking the drugs we..." Neil began but cut off as Junebug signaled furiously. It was unlikely that a religious community was going to react favorably to an offer of hundreds of kilos of high grade narcotics.
"Peace be upon you," Brother Gerome said with a smile as he walked around the cart leading a dozen young men each carrying a bolt of cloth over a shoulder. The faintly glowing cloth clashed oddly with the simple homespun woolens that seemed to be the local garb. Gerome seemed to be the leader of the community here at Keshner's Hollow. He was a boney man with a broad smile and face beaten bronze by long exposure to Ateran's slightly whitish star. The laborers could have all been related to him for the resemblance they bore. Their smiles were less broad perhaps, having never been off world, they were less comfortable with outsiders or perhaps, like the horses, they weren't sure Saxon wasn't about to eat them. Nervous they might be, but that didn't stop them from surreptitiously eyeing the newcomers, particularly Sayeeda and Taya. Junebug was dressed in a white tank top which bared the tattoo on her shoulder. The tan on cream fabric of her combat pants and black assault boots were probably beyond their experience. Women's clothing on Ateran was conservative and it was likely they were in breach of any number of local taboos.
"An exchange well made is a glory to the Lord," Brother Gerome declared, eying the coffee approvingly. It was probable that even bad coffee would be a welcome reminder of old times to the original colonists, no matter how devout they might be.
"Saxon was just saying that," Sayeeda replied blithely. Taya covered a snicker with her hand but Neil snorted less delicately. Gerome chuckled but several of the younger men stiffened indignantly. Nervousness transmuted to belligerence easily enough especially for men.
"Heresy aside, perhaps you would care to join us. It is Rejuvenation Day tomorrow and we have prepared a feast. Seems fortuitous that you and your crew should arrive on such a day Captain Cyckali. We would be honored if you would join us." Junebug cast a quick look around the others gauging their opinions. After nearly eleven straight days in the RIP they were all a little frayed. A free meal that didn't come out of a ration tin might do them all some good.
"Sounds good," she admitted, brushing at the fine sheen of coffee dust on her tank top.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil threw the last sack of coffee onto the cart, slapping his hands together and exhaling into the crisp, cool air. The last few weeks hadn't necessarily been what he would call exciting, but it wasn't so bad every now and then. Semi-honest work and some good R&R were probably best for the crew, considering they were on the way to what was likely a suicide mission for Taya.
Their initial contact with the theologically inclined locals had been touch and go at first. The galaxy wasn't short of religious thought. The fact the universe existed on set principals of science when all could be chaos, or the fact existence at all was happening made many think there had to be a creator or catalyst beyond what current understanding could comprehend. Neil had heard many theories on his travels, particularly working at the space station with Sven. But he had never been on a planet of people who were so universally dogmatic.
It was really hard not to fuck with them, even if only a little bit.
"Brother Gerome," Neil started. The clergyman (if he even was a true one) halted in his tracks and turned to the group again. All the younger men watched intently. "I have a question about the faith."
"I'm always ready to help enlighten those who are curious," he said with a smile. He was wilier than his groupies, Neil could tell just by looking at him, so he wouldn't go too hard. "What is the question, friend?"
Neil gestured toward the Hexanagallion. "I was wondering about the fate of my good friend Saxon here. Where do Xenos fit in the Fellowship of Man?" Neil hid his smile like a champ. "He seems very interested in what he's been hearing but he was a bit shy to say."
"Neil!" Taya whispered as loud as she dared even while Sayeeda put a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. Neil didn't bother looking at Saxon, imagining the hulking brute's mandibles curling in anger. Brother Gerome's followers looked to one another and some even appeared threatening, thinking Neil was mocking them. They weren't far from the truth, but Brother Gerome took it in stride as Neil thought he would. The white sun gave a pale gleam to his shirt as he raised his hands.
"It depends on the sect, of course. Some believe man was made in God's image..." he remarked. It was a problem with many human religions. Or to say, not the religion itself, but how men viewed them throughout history. 'Man' was still so commonly used despite an extremely biodiverse galaxy. "However, all who follow the divine creator are welcomed here as brother's and sisters on Ateran. You, your Captain, the young woman, and even your big friend here are all welcome if you wish to stay."
"Hear that Saxon? There's hope yet."
Sayeeda had to place a hand on the Hexa's chest to keep him from walking over and throttling the pilot.</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
It was strange, realizing you were being drugged. Dragged into an unfitful sleep, seeing your girlfriend power through it for just a moment before she too hit the ground. It wasn't restful to Neil, his mind moving even while he was limp and unconscious. He didn't know if he could dream during that time, but he felt like he had been thinking of something. Vaguely he began to feel a pain in his wrists and the weight of gravity, before a cold bucket of water was thrown onto him, shocking his senses and flinging him back into reality. Neil snorted, some of the water having shot up his nose.
"Blghah!" He coughed, hacking out some phleghm before he could speak.
"Wake up, heathen. Time for your confession." A voice said. Neil blinked, blearily recognizing the speaker as one of the younger men that had been accompanying Brother Gerome. He looked left and right and saw Junebug nor Taya were anywhere to be seen. The room could accommodate them due to its size. They were in a large but fairly run down and dank chamber. Neil recognized it as some sort of area in the colony ship, likely underground due to the lack of light. Other than a few sconces alight with flickering flames, the expanse of the room was shrouded in darkness.
"Where are we?"
"I'm asking the questions, pagan." The cultist assured him. "Now, w-"
"You're not going to turn me into a baby, are you?"
The fellow's face twisted in confusion. He began to speak, but uneasily through what was obviously a scripted speech. "If we deem you worthy, you may perform for us as a slave for a time of seven years. After your penitence is done and you are trustworthy, you may take a wife and own a piece of land..."
"I have a wife, or very near to one." Neil explained. He didn't like this dude, but he felt sorry for him. Some brainwashed child at the edge of the galaxy. Even if their take on whatever deity was real, he doubted they were doing whatever he, she, or it wanted by imprisoning him and doing what-the-fuck-ever to his friends. "She's cooler than everyone here. Now, are you going to let me go or is this something you're going to commit to? Think carefully..."
"Interrupt me one more time, and you will receive the lash." The jailor threatened, stepping forward and indicating the notched whip at his belt.
Neil was already halfway done with his shackles, unbeknownst to his captor. He'd let him talk for another half a minute before he strode out of there. But finding Sayeeda would be another matter.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug came too all at once. Her body uncoiled like a spring driving a fist upwards towards where her subconscious told her she would find a target. Woven canvas straps snapped tight around her wrists and ankles. Bright light stung her eyes and her stomach turned as the drug in her system burned off on the tide of adrenaline. A shadow crossed the light for a moment and then it was pulled away.
"Her vitals are spiking well beyond norms," a worried voice commented.
"Stop your stalling, she is simply another heretic who is called to serve in renewing our faith," a stern voice responded. Sayeed blinked her eyes into focus. A middle aged man and a younger woman stood above her in scrubs. A third man in vestments, partially discarded after the ceremony stood in a corner, fingering a shock baton.
"She is not, there is something wrong with her, her hormones are out of whack, her neurotransmitters are way off the charts..."
"Is she a Xeno? If she cant carry children..."
"No she is human its just... not normal she isn't responding to the induction process."
"Induction process..." Sayeeda murmured.
"She is awake," the woman said accusingly. The baton wielder took a step towards her menacingly.
"Will everyone settle down," the older male snapped, "we woke her on purpose." Sayeeda's vision cleared, she was strapped to a surgical table in a white walled medical bay of some sort. The contrast of a modern medbay with the cathedral trappings outside was jarring. Monitors on the wall blinked with unintelligible medical information including several scans.
"We have some questions for you young lady," the older man said with counterfeit kindness.
"Go fuck yourself," Sayeeda snarled pulling at her restraints. The acolyte stepped closer and raised his baton. The older man lifted a hand in bar.
"If we don't know what is wrong with you, the procedure may kill you."
"Nothing is wrong with me," Sayeeda said after a moment.
"We have dosed you with nearly twice the normal load of skirtamanol and we haven't shown any of the normal responses," the old man said.
"Yeah well I don't know fuck about that, I do know..." she paused and worked her tongue, "that im being held hostage in the basement of an old colony ship by a bunch of religious crazies and it'd be super great if a big pissed of Hex stomped in here and started snapping spines."
"Silence heretic, you think God hears the prayers of your kind?!" the acolyte sneered. Something beeped on the wall and the young woman turned with an alarmed look.
"Something..." the technician murmured.
"Do you think God hears filth like you?! Your only worth is that you can be used like a breeding sow to produce children who will serve the One God!" The acolyte roared.
"I don't know about that..." Sayeeda grinned.
"She sent a radio transmission!" The tech exclaimed, "it scattered the scans!"
"I have a mastoid implant," Sayeeda admitted, grinning up at the alarmed trio.
"I also have a military grade IUD implant that's guaranteed effective for twenty years by Kadian biotech on Celandine. Probably more than you hicks can handle in this crappy med bay."
"Put her under, now!" the old man snapped, making a gesture to the tech with a bony hand.
"And I have one more thing, an unfortunate amount of experience with Terran's." She ripped her right hand free of its restraints, the canvas parting like a gun shot as her arm muscles bulged and responded well beyond human norms. She felt her tendons strain and rip at the bones, promising painful repercussions later. But if she was alive later she would be luckier than she had any right to be. Her hand lashed out and ripped the stun baton from the acolytes' shocked hand. She tumbed it live and jabbed it into his gut, sending him flying into a bank of monitors with a crash and a shower of sparks. Without breaking the ark she slashed it across the face of the tech. The powerful electrical current snapped the woman's jaws shut so hard that Junebug heard her teeth crack as the blast sent her crashing to the floor, the fine hair around her face burning. The old man made the best choice, lunging towards the medical controls rather than trying to get out of the way. Unfortunately his years slowed him for the extra half second it took for Junebug to drive the point of the baton into his neck. The muscles spasmed and he dropped with a crack of breaking vertebrae as his neck muscles wrenched in opposite directions. Junebug sagged back against the bed, still held by three point restraints and weak from the physical effort and the surge of adrenaline.
"Well, I suppose that is problem number one…"</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil only had a cudgel, partially matted with blood from breaking the acolyte's nose. The two had tumbled onto the floor, giving Neil a nasty bump on the head but otherwise causing no real problems. He had a thick skull, anyway. His opponent did not, so he lay unconscious in the room the pilot had just walked out of. As he stepped out into the corridor, lights automatically flitted on. He glanced up at the potential, visual alarm of his progress.
"That'll cause some problems." He deadpanned, but decided he couldn't do anything about it, anyway. His vision was still a bit swimmy and his head light, the lithe scoundrel stretching his neck and rubbing it as he began to walk. He wasn't getting old, but all that time in R.I.P. space before wrestling within a normal atmosphere had weird effects on even a young human physique. Rivets of overlapping plate on the walls whistled with air as the ventilation suddenly turned on. That was surprising, considering it meant someone here could at least access some of the power, or else they had found a generator somewhere and hotwired it.
Flipping the cudgel to ascertain its weight, he felt confident it was a good enough implement to throw if someone showed up with a gun and he needed to make a quick getaway or dive. The hall was ominous in quality, every shadow holding a cultist or some xenos subterranean species to Neil's mind. The flickering lights and the fact some did not cut on as he walked by also seemed to indicate that not all the power was evenly distributed. He could fix up the place if he had the mind to, which was more than he could say about whoever was maintaining the sleeper ship.
Instead of running into a cultist again, however, one of the doors he passed by slid open when Neil's passage set off its sensors. A light suddenly poured into the gloom of the corridor, causing Neil to blink and shield his eyes.
Once his eyes adjusted, he found something he truly did not expect. It was a large, relatively well cleaned chamber, Strange mutants, half man, half machine grumbled and moved about in slow gaits. Every left eye was a grafted visor and every right hand was mechanical, with their bodies a mix and matched jumble of limbs, steel, and flesh. There were only five that he could see, and none looked his way when he peered through. Upon closer inspection, they weren't maintaining power nodes like he assumed they had been. No, they were pods. Pods with infants inside of them.
Neil squinted as he began to think, whispering to himself.
"Am I above holding a baby hostage?"</s>
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<|description|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Nickname(Optional): Pfft, no.
Age: 24
Gender: Male
Physical Appearance: Of Average build with short dark hair, Neil isn't exactly the most unique specimen. He is fit but not noticeably so. He isn't big at all, but he is also not small. He has a face girls can find cute, but not exactly dreamy. Tanned skin and a ruddy complexion from all of the machine's he's worked on, coupled with the calluses on his hands gives him an experienced look despite the very youthful appearance he has. All in all, other than the twinkling of his eyes and the trademark grin, he is essentially average. He has dark eyes and very dark brown hair, enough to be considered black under most light. He's about 5'10 and 165 pounds.
Clothing: He often wears baggy pants, mostly military cargo. He likes to wear single colored T-Shirts. Usually he wears red.
Personality: Oh, now that is a question. To say Neil is eccentric is...well, that hits the nail on the head. Very good with hand-eye coordination, competent combatant, good engineer, and a daring pilot. But prone to sarcasm, snide remarks, unorthodox behavior, and just good old fashioned explosions. He's a born jokester, though behind his charming yet insufferable demeanor belies a certain intelligence, and to those he enjoys, he does tend to have a big heart.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil did not stay for long.
Taking a heavy wrench, he decided to leave the room untouched except for the one servitor whom he broke apart with a few heavy swings, mostly to see how well built they were and what made them tick with a cursory glance of the fallen corpse. It only took him one or two minutes of bludgeoning and examination before he ran off, leaving the children in the other servitor's care. As much as he wanted to liberate everyone here, the Highlander was not a nursery, and while he was pro-choice, this seemed to be a bit late in the pregnancy. The real injustice was to the women, particularly two he wanted to find pretty badly.
Neil went off, searching high and low. Every twenty meters there was an archway; some had nothing but voids behind them, others had similar birthing chambers, and some were essentially armories or storage rooms. No matter where he went, he couldn't find where they held the women, at least until he found an archaic stairway, the railings emblazoned with silver lines and stars in constellations he vaguely recognized. He didn't dally and wait around. Instead he sprinted up the stairs, wondering if he would ever find his fucking girlfriend and Taya.
The first door on floor two, he saw Sayeeda breaking Taya out of stasis. Neil saw Gerome in one of the pods in the midst of the women and he shook his head. The old priest really should have known better than to fuck with his junebug. He couldn't help but admire the sheer audacity. For Neil's part, he lazily leaned against the archway as she unlocked and shut down the stasis chamber, the air depressurizing and opening up for Taya to wobbly fall out of her limp constraints and into Junebug's arms.
"God, you're terrible at this." Neil said, and Sayeeda's combat enhanced reflexes moved with the speed of a hunting cat, her gun barrel pointed at Neil, her recognition of him just a second quicker than her decision to kill whatever made an unexpected noise within her presence. She lowered her gun in relief and smiled. Neil just shook his head. "You're the damsel in distress. You couldn't wait for three minutes before I rescued you. God!"
A 'spring' and a small crater chipping into the steel above his head made him jump, and more gunfire followed as Neil leaped into the room as weapons cracked from the stairway. Neil hugged the wall by the door, and Sayeeda laughed and tossed the 10 mm pistol she had procured from Gerome's companion. "Now's your chance, cowboy." She teased, dragging Taya behind some of the pods while she woke her up.
Shouts were heard down the hall, followed by more gunfire. Neil looked around, looked at his gun, then decided on a course of action. Seconds later, the four colonists, three with handguns and one with a double barreled shotgun entered the room, the first two immediately firing to the left and right. They were the first two to get shot in the head, but from above. The bullets ripping into them sent them into spasms. Swinging his upper body upside down to gaze into the hallway, lower body on the roof of the arch, Neil shot three times, killing the last two colonists. The shotgun went off, cracking apart of the wall and ricocheting pellets across the hall. No one screamed out, so everyone pursing must be dead.
"Clear!" he called.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
It probably said something about the last couple of years that rather than reacting to the sudden flurry of gunfire she merely peered around in confusions.
"What do they want from us," she asked, color slowly returning to her face as the effects of the cryosleep drugs continued to burn off. Junebug peered out into the corridor, finding it clear.
"Worry later, get out of here now," Junebug told her, not wanting to open the can of worms right now. Taya leaned down and scooped up a shotgun from one of the corpses, stepping awkwardly around the spreading pool of blood.
"Right," she murmured, shaking her head to clear it. Despite the fact that she had been training Taya for several months, Sayeeda would have been happier if she hadn't picked up the weapon. A blast from that in these tight quarters might accidentally clip her, or Neil, or both. It was an uncomfortably familiar feeling, local allies were usually not to the standard of the mercs they hired, but you had to live with it. Or not of course, but you couldn't think that way.
"Let's move," Junebug declared, leading the way out into the hallway. While the interior of the ship was a warren, it was a simple fact of finding a companionway and heading upwards towards the surface. The ship was big enough that if there were other colonists aboard they couldn't form a clear picture of what was going on. Unfortunately by the the ship only had two exit ports that were easily accessible. One of them had been welded shut, the other had been dressed in the fake stone of the cathedral. A group of confused and nervous looking men, a dozen or so, stood infront of it. They were armed but clearly unsure of what to do. Sayeeda looked speculatively at her pistol and then across at Neil, who screwed up his face in an expression that read: Maybe but Maybe not.
"We can wait for them to try to come in," Junebug suggested, at close range there was a chance that the three of them could take a bunch untrained rustics. Given the shotguns though, there was a fair chance one or all of them would wind up dead.
"Maybe we should go back and try to use the old man as a hostage," Taya suggested. Junebug shook her head.
"Religious types are always willing to die for the cause," she explained. She tapped a finger to her temple.
"Saxon, are you reading me?" she asked through her mastoid implant. There was no response. Stars above where was the lizard? She couldn't imagine these rubes storming the Highlander and taking down the Hex. Perhaps some kind of jamming equipment was at play.
"We need a distraction," she said, eyes flicking to Neil for inspiration.</s>
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<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil looked at his girlfriend with raised brows, then looked at Taya and shrugged, nodding. "Sure, yeah."
Junebug cocked the hammer on her semi-auto and held it up at the ready while Taya wiggled behind her, still half drugged and confused at what exactly was happening. Neil took the moment to look around at their surroundings, up, to the side, and then at the ground. He found a few rocks to the left of the door, likely made of the rockcrete they used to make the archway. One was roughly the size of his fist. He shoot his hand out and grabbed it quickly, and only one man cried out at his exposed flesh, firing at where his hand had been, far too slowly. The others followed suit, firing at the empty entryway, causing the three to pull back as bullets ricocheted off the false granite and steel of the ship's hull. Neil started whistling, idly tossing the rock up and catching it while the fail of gunfire rained around them.
Soon the gunfire abated, loud clicking accompanying uneasy claims of needing to reload. Neil almost felt bad for them, but the fun he was having usually outstripped his guilt, particularly when they were trying to kill him. He cleared his throat, puffing his chest out.
"Grenade!"
The plain rock was openly tossed out of the entryway, sailing through the air. Before it even hit the ground, the brainwashed zealots scattered like mice, devoid of dignity and any hopes of ever getting laid. Neil shook his head, clearly enjoying the spectacle. Junebug didn't hesitate, raising her gun and stepping out like a maiden of war, her 10mm bloodied and pierced any men that looked like there was any hope of resistance. Villagers near where the party was being taken down became utterly scattered, screeching and clutching babies and small children.
Past some of the structures, something lurked. One of the transit vehicles was suddenly pushed on its side by something with immeasurable strength, and suddenly one of the fleeing men was lifted off the ground, impaled by a spike that sent his body in shudders. A saurian thing stepped out into view, and Neil sighed when he realized it was Saxon. A few slugs struck him, most bouncing off his ridged plates, one or two striking flesh but only doing superficial damage. He ignored them and began to devour the man he had on a spit, swallowing him whole. Even as the man's form was washed down his gullet, Saxon was on the move again. He snatched up one of the fleeing children next, his mandibles flexing as he marveled at the morsel.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Neil called, holding his hand out and pointing his gun Saxon's way. The xeno's predatory head switched to Neil, growling at the interruption. Neil glared at him like a dog, and judging by the looks of the crew behind him, he felt like he was vindicated when Saxon gave another growl and idly tossed the child away, causing the boy to roll across the ground relatively unharmed. "You humans are so picky! Adult, babe, they'll all be foes soon."</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda smirked at the suggestion that she might occasionally be forced to do a little shooting. Heaven forbid. It was good that he was thinking about weaponry though, particularly if this Sarvan was anything as big a ratfuck as it sounded. It had to be bad to be worth half a ship to a Penny pinching bastard like Gorlan.
"Alright," Sayeeda said after a few moments.
"I suppose you have a deal." She thrust out her arm in Rhuani style and Gorlan clasped her forearm and shook once. The sharklike grin grew wider and she couldn't help but feel that whatever they were getting into on Sarvan was worse than he was letting on. Still this wasn't a completely negative turn of events, this sounded like just the sort of work she had imagined doing and she tried not to let the fact that she had essentially been tricked into it sour her completely.
"Now if you will follow me..." Gorlan said, gesturing grandly and leading the way out of the hanger. The guards trailed along, keeping wary eyes on Sayeeda as they did so. The outside light was blinking after the hangar and the air was redolent with the sour smell of spices. A large tractor rolled passed, disel engine coughing black smoke as it hauled a load of freshly cut... something into one of the other warehouses.
Very few moments in Sayeeda's life had taken her breath away but the sight that beheld her as the walked around the corner of one of the vast prefab warehouses did. Sitting on concrete which had long ago cracked under the hammering of starship engines was a vast metal vessel. The ship was perhaps fifty meters from its pointed nose to its squat box like stern with two pairs of engines mounted along the frame, each the size of a small armored vehicle. It wasn't new or shiny, its dull grey finish was scuffed and burned, and here and there rust stains ran down the points where rain must have drained off her when she was on the ground, but she was undeniable a star ship. Stenciled on the side in large block letters was the name UAK-S21 HIGHLANDER. For a moment all she could do was stare in awe, since the day Andor had made himself President of Kylura, more through bullets than ballots it was true, and disbanded the unit she had dreamed of owning her own ship. Now here she stood in the shadow of her very own, or mostly her own, vessel.
"By the Gods blood," she said, her eyes drinking in the sight.
"By the Gods blood."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"Oh SHIT." Neil exclaimed, and he started laughing. He felt the joy bubbling up, and he swore it felt like Christmas morning. If Christmas hadn't been extinct for 8 centuries, but he had heard it was an apt description for something incredibly awe inspiring plopping on his lap. This was completely something else. "You weren't kidding!" It seemed Neil had lost control of the volume of his voice. "It's smooth and polished, and those are Archeron thrusters on there!"
Neil ran both of his hands through his thick, dark hair. He let out a breath, still contemplating what he could do with the ship. He'd flown plenty of ships since leaving Fortus. Most of them were junkers, true. But if he could evade the planetary forces with them, imagine what this could do with him driving it. The only thing that would make him happier would be piloting a Valk like he did in the war. But a freighter like this, he'd only read about. Getting used to it would be easy, and he couldn't wait to get his hands on it. Feel the thrum of the engines reverberate up his body.
"I see you're both satisfied," Gorlan said, and he pushed a button on his wrist device. The wall next to them lifted, and within was a mounted selection of weapons. There were more weapons than most would have ever seen, even experienced mercenaries and soldiers. Neil let out an appreciative whistle, then blinked. He turned to Gorlan. "Before I grab one of these, you guys took my gun earlier. Mind giving it back?"
It was tossed to him. He caught it casually, spinning the slug loaded revolver before holstering it in his belt. After that, he began to pick his way around the weapons. Grenade Launchers, Combat Shotguns, and the Plasma rifles caught his attention. But at the end, he chose the Gauss ARC rifle. "I feel the power in this baby," he said, hefting it. The gun was relatively large, and looked oversized resting on Neil's shoulder. But the pilot was stronger than he looked.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
June Bug Cyckali was a methodical woman and although she was capable of acting with instant and complete brutality, she preferred to consider her options when the opportunity arose. So it was that she first considered drawing the shock rod she had concealed in her boot, the shock rod which had so easily evaded the earlier pat down, and beating the would be pilot, her would be pilot she supposed, into twitching unconsciousness. It was unfeasible for a number of reasons. There was no way of knowing how Gorlan's people would react to a sudden movement and a concealed weapon. The fact that she could not herself fly a ship also loomed large in the list of flaws and although she could probably find another pilot, this one did have a perfect right to be here under the terms of the contract.
"You aren't impressed by my generous inclusion of the weaponry Captain?" Gorlan asked with an arched eyebrow.
"Seems a little pricey at the cost of 50 percent of the ship," Sayeeda replied in a flat tone. Grolan laughed and slapped his paunch in the traditional Hodiernan gesture of a point having been scored. His skin, an unhealthy pallor at the best of times, was beginning redden from exposure to the intense sun.
"Well in any case," the Broker wheezed, "My people have loaded everything you will need into the ships computer. You should lift before sundown." Junebug arched an eyebrow.
"In a hurry to be reunited with your son?" she asked sarcastically. Gorlan chuckled again.
"My dear Sayeeda my heart breaks with every moment I am apart from him," Gorlan theatrically put a hand to his forehead like a Calian pantomime. Then the amusement drained from his face as quickly as it had come.
"More practically if I have discovered my bastard whelps location, then others will have well, there are others who would use what he knows against me. Lift by sunset or the deal is off." With that he spun on his heel and walked away into the shadowed interior of one of the warehouses, wiping at his face with a dirty handkerchief he had produced from somewhere.
"If we are quite done playing with the hardware, we ought to get to work," Sayeeda said, a slight coolness creeping into her tone despite her best effort. She extended one of her hands, palm still covered by the fingerless shooters gloves.
"I am Captain Sayeeda Cyckali," she introduced herself.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil's grin faded, hearing the familiar warning in Sayeeda's voice that he had so often heard from his superiors in the Ordo Sanctus. They had soon stopped once they had given him a bit more freedom and realized just how good he was in one of the Valk's, but back then he had been fighting for the right to choose his destiny. Here, they were teammates, and he needed to reign himself in a bit out of respect.
He shook her hand with his left hand, his right hand still hefting the ARC rifle. "Neil Edwards," he said to her. "Pilot, soldier, thief, rebel, and many more titles that most would consider insulting. Good to meet you," he said. He planned on getting to know her better once they were in space, but right now her dangerous demeanor had him more anxious to get going. He could have taken so many grunt jobs like when he was younger, such as the vehicle engineer position he had for the UNF before the war. But he chose this life instead. Danger was quite welcome.
"Call me Firestorm if we're ever in need of a military alias." he told her, and as if on the cue, the pistons on the Highlander's door released. The entrance lowered into a makeshift stairway, and Gorlan smiled devilishly as the two set off to embark. "You've got the schematics in the ship's systems, but the prison cell is located near the back left of the ship." The Nobleman said, doing his best to let them know he expected results.
Neil gave him a salute, and then headed into the Highlander with Sayeeda, making their way into the ship's interior as the massive doors to the bay area began to open to allow them space to fly out of there. Neil ran his hands over the smooth surface of the Xarconian metal the ship was (at least the majority of it) made of. The Hexanagallions used such material extensively, and Neil had been waiting forever to actually find a ship that had it for building material. If that war-like race had wielded it with such great effect, the Highlander coupled with decent shields would be a battering ram.
"I'm going to get this going. We can look around once we get the R.I.P. drives revved up. If that's ok with you, Captain?" He asked.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Sounds like a plan," Sayeeda responded, wondering if the pilot really expected her to refer to him as firestorm.
The hydraulics hissed as Junebug pressed the activation stud to the internal hatch. The bulkhead separated a little more ponderous than she had expected as the internal jacks withdraw the heavy door panel. You couldn't be a mercenary and not have some experience of starships and Sayeeda, whose exact sidereal age was confused by weeks at near ftl in assault ships had endured more than most. There was a difference, however, a difference between a passenger, no matter how frequent and a pilot. To her the inside of a starship, especially the operational areas remained a strange and unfamiliar place.
The interior of the ship smelled faintly of hot electronics and of hydrocarbons in various stages of decombustion. Most starships functioned by using a fusion bottle to hydrolyze water molecules and then pump the resulting hydrogen into the fusion thrusters. Water was also used as a working fluid for most other processes, not because it was the most effective substance for the job but because its residues were less toxic than the alternatives. Everything on a starship inevitably became part of the atmosphere and long haul crews cheerfully traded the lower performance of water in order to avoid the various poisonous or carcinogenic alternatives.
The interior of the ship was lit by overhead glow stripping that bathed everything in a pale white blue light. Several of the panels were missing and the corresponding dappled lighting effect made Junebug slightly uneasy. Intellectually she knew there was no danger lurking in the shadows but veterans didn't live to become old veterans by taking a relaxed attitude. She made a mental note to get the shoddy lighting fixed as soon as it was practical.
A large hallway - companionway? What was the spacefaring term?- branched off in each direction, one leading to the cockpit and another back into the heart of the vessel. Electronics, some familiar, others novel to her eye, was packed onto every inch of the walls and wire conduits ran overhead. Even the floor was raised panels beneath which the electronic veins of the ship pulsed. Junebug ran her fingers along a snaking tangle of fiber optic cables which hung along the right side wall.
Without discussion they turned right and headed for the cockpit. The hatch whirred open to reveal a medium sized room the shape of a flattened hexagon. Junebug would have guessed it was around the size of a large bedroom in a moderately prosperous home. Several console which looked a few generations behinds the top of the line models Andor's Armored had used for LOG section and TechInt hummed in powered down modes. The smell here was much more clearly that of hot circuits than burning propellants. The forward viewport took up the entirety of the front wall of the cockpit and the bright sun streamed through the transparent aluminum and warmed the bay despite the efforts of an archaic air conditioner to keep it at ambient.
It was one of the sexier things Sayeeda Cyckali had ever seen.
"I'm a little wet right now," she murmured so softly as to be unintelligible to anyone standing near her. Or so she thought.
"Would you like me to alter the ambient air characteristics Captain?" A metallic emotionless voice asked and the shock of it nearly sent Junebug grabbing for a nonexistent side arm.
"Identify yourself," she snapped, surprise transmuting to fear as adrenaline coursed through her veins making her dark skin prickle.
"AVLN-22-Kelo, Artifical Intelligence, Highlander." The voice responded in mechanical preset. AI's were a feature of most human ships. In some ways they were old tech, simple AI's were relatively easy to create but failry limited. Ships on the other hand had both complex systems and incredible computing power. The kind of computers that could chart courses through ripspace were the most advanced in the human galaxy and the kind of computing power needed to create an AI was afterthought when the astronavigation was off.
"Damn."</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda tapped experimentaly on the door they had entered through, her sub machine gun muzzle woke a soft metallic clang from the hatch. A moment later there was an answering clang from the otherside. Grinning maliciously she began to tap out a series of long and short clangs on the panel.
B Y E
A moment later came a series of bangs from the other side.
F U C K Y
chuckling to herself she stepped down the stair to where Neil and Drake were pulling themselves to their feet. She observed Neil's tattoo and resolved not to touch anything herself. It was unlikely but not impossible that the Terrans would be able to gain entry, somehow she doubted cutting bars or blasting charges were going to cut it. Now if they had time to bring up a plasma cannon...
"We should probably get moving," she said in a neutral voice and headed towards the circular corridor.
"And as much fun as anthropology class is, I don't see much to justify the effort so far," she said to Drake. The scholar coloured as though about to snap back at her but clearly though the better of it.
"You wont be dissapointed, it will all be worth it you will see," he said, striding forward. Maybe it would to Drake, but Sayeeda didn't have much use for a buried ruin she couldnt take with her, and the interest that people were showing in this place and in Drake was starting to make her a little uneasy. She wondered if his father had an idea of what he was doing and wanted him back for his knowledge. With a metallic rasp she stripped out her half empty magazine and fitted another tube of rounds. One problem at a time.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The circular hall beyond, while obviously advanced and far beyond anything Neil had ever seen, was a bit less well preserved than the initial hallway. The lights above them had the same hue as the hall, but they came from a source that could be fathomed. Drake looked around in awe as he walked at the fore, running his hands over the curved metal of the hall. For some reason, every now and then the smooth surface of the metal was ripped as if something immensely strong had slashed at it. The ever so often flicker of the lights didn't help bring the mood up, either.
Once the three had made it full circle to the end of the hall, there was a doorway there. It looked like starship blast doors, only as per usual in the facility, far smoother and made of an alien material, and rimmed with ethereal lights. There was a raised panel on the left, somewhat higher off the ground than what would normally be for a human to comfortably put their hand on it. But Drake grabbed Neil's arm and lifted it towards it.
Neil yanked his hand back, raising an eyebrow. His other arm held his Arc gun across his shoulder nonchalantly as he regarded Garlon's son. "Hey!" he said. "touching me is for paying customers."
"We need to open the door." Drake told him. "Your hand can do that."
"Why would we need to open the door. Why can't I just blast through it anyway?"
"You want to get out of here, don't you?" Drake asked, trying to use logic that he hadn't initially thought, nor was he truly concerned for. Neil sighed, and with a nod from Sayeeda he placed his hand on the dias. It didn't hurt like a son of a bitch this time. It was only slightly warm, and the door opened before them.
Neil whistled at the unexpected sight.
Displayed before them was a moderately large room, also curved and circular in nature. With three 'floors' if one could call it that, made of balconies where strange, alien seats lined in a row on every one. Near the center, on the ground floor, was a dias that glowed a low blue. Above the blue was a floating metallic sphere that hovered mere feet off the dias. The lights above were red, giving the
room an eerie, purplish aura.
"The interface..." Drake said, his breath catching as he did his best to make his way down the slope of the side wall to get to the ground floor. Neil casually said aloud what he was certain both mercenaries were thinking.
"I don't like the look of this."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeedea scanned the room with her submachine gun briefly but found no targets of any kind. It was clear the place was a xenoarchaeolgical gold mine, but that didn't help her much because she had no way to carry it off, or to control access to the compound. It was likely that the Terrans would eventually succeed in forcing the doorway and would waste no time in taking them all into custody. That might mean imprisonment, arrest or a plasmabolt to the back of the neck and Junebug wasn't willing to bet on what choice a black ops team, far from home, would make.
"Yeah its great and all," she said impatiently, "but we really don't have all day." Drake snorted as he reached one of the consoles and slipped into the seat. A flickering field, not unlike the keypad blinked into existence before him.
"Relax Rambabe, it would take a plasma cannon to get through that door," Drake replied loftily.
"They have plasma cannon's idiot, the dropship certainly has some, worse they can certainly get thermobaric breaching charges if they don't have them." Junebug hoped they weren't carrying anything that heavy for dismounted operations on a jungle world, but hoping was a good way to get your ass blown off. Drake looked a little chagrined at that but his confident expression quickly returned.
"It wont take me long, we will be gone long before they get here," he reassured her and began touching icons on the screen. A moment later there was a discordant hum and dust rained down from the roof. A dodecahedral shape of what appeared to be solid light coalesced over some kind of aperture in the center of the room and then, cooled was the only term Sayeeda could think of, into a silver object the size of her head.
"The Core," Drake said reverently and turned in his chair to look back at Sayeeda and Neil. He touched another button and a shimmering blue tube appeared around Junebug, the back of her throat prickling with ozoone. A similar tube flashed into existence around Neil. Sayeeda reached out a hand and pressed against the strange blue energy. It crackled beneath her hand and was impenetrable as stone.
"Stasis tubes," Drake explained as he collected the Core, "I'm sorry I couldn't have you dragging me back to my father." Sayeeda unslung her submachine gun. A difficult task in the confined quarters.
"I wouldn't do that," Drake simpered, "The ricochettes you know? They should deactivate once I leave the facility, and if not, well your Terran buddies will be along."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil felt trapped, something he really disliked. The young pilot did his best to struggle and shove himself out of it, but it was to no avail. Drake watched him struggle with a smug grin as he cradled the core like a newborn babe. "Don't have any witty remarks now, do you?" Drake said.
"Turn these shields off and I'll show you plenty, along with a gun-butt to the head free of charge." Neil replied, gritting his teeth through the shimmering haze of the blue field. Drake merely snorted, and held up the core as if to gloat, giving Sayeeda a mocking wink as he made his way out of the room and up the rise.
"Well...this is a poor end to a new crew." Neil said, slumping back. He briefly thought of shoving the stasis field with his feet, but he knew that would lead to nothing. These things were built by beings humanity built their civilization on. "So...wanna play 'I Never'?" He looked at Sayeeda. The question was never answered, for in the center of the light, matter suddenly billowed and coalesced into what appeared to be a...face?
It looked to be wrought of thousands of different metallic cubes formed together into a face that looked somewhat human. It had an 'Uncanny Horizon' feel to its features, elongated and somewhat flat nosed, with ears stretched like heated leather.
"Representative, what is the meaning of this?" It asked, it's echoing voice feminine. Neil blinked, and glanced toward Sayeeda, before looking back at the shape. "Wha-...who?" Neil said to it, palms on the blue walls of the stasis field.
"You bear the mark. You are the Representative." It said as if it was the most blindingly obvious thing in the universe. Neil raised an eyebrow, but he didn't question it too long. He asked who the being was, and it described itself as the facility's AI system. The AI asked its question again. Neil replied with "Some punk trapped us and took the core of the facility with it."
"You must stop him. The anomaly will be released. All life in the system will be wiped out without mercy or restraint. Allow me to free you."
"Whoa wait, what's going to happen?"
It paused, as if it was uploading a file to share, and spoke once more. "3,000 years ago, the Aelahyne creators of this facility trapped one of their most dangerous creations. The Harbingers. An artificial being of power beyond comprehension. If all of them had been released, the Aelahyne would have become extinct. Thankfully, these facilities were built to keep the population of their creations in check for study. In twenty standard galactic minutes, the lack of power and cohesion from the core unit of this facility with awaken the Harbinger, and it will create a new order of domination in the system."
Neil sighed, and ran a hand through his hair as the stasis shield suddenly vanished. "Well fuck," he sighed.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug blinked as the stasis field around her vanished. She sneezed violently as in-rushing air gusted dust into her sinus. Fortunately her helmet visor maintained a low grade electric charge that repelled the particles and kept the face shield clean.
"More Goddess Cursed AI's," she grumbled as she vaulted down from the raised platform and landed with a clang, her combat books waking echos across the deck plates as moved at a tactical jog towards the door Drake had vanished in with, what she assumed, was the core of the facility.
"Can't it just close the doors on this asshole?" The moved into the hallway at a jog but the voice, seemingly omnipresent in the facility, followed them.
"System degradation over, the centuries has rendered this impossible Consort," the mechanical voice went on, with no more or less emotion that it had possessed when it spoke of the destruction of the system. Sayeeda was running through the corridors now, there were no obvious turns to slow her and while the corridor snaked back and forth there were no options for exploration.
"Consort!? She spluttered in outrage as they broke into a large room that seemed to be filled with some sort of statuary, still in the same alien metallic style.
"You are the Consort of the Representative are you not?"
"I don't think we need to go that far," Sayeeda said dryly as she moved through the forest of eerie statues, the muzzle of her submachine gun sweeping from side to side.
"Booster bring up thermal at a 25 percent mask," she instructed her helmet AI and the world took on the subtle shadings of color based of the rates of differntal cooling. The effect was slightly nausating with so much cold metal becoming tinted with icy blue. Neil had a warm glow of body heat about him, as would Drake when they caught up with him.
"Would you perfer a different form of address Consort?" the AI inquired polite.
"Shut the fuck up," Sayeeda snapped, she didn't have breath to talk with a centuries dead computer and she certainly didn't want to tip off. WHANGG!! Sparks showered her as she burst through a door at the end of the hall of statues. The were in a large room that reminded Sayeeda of a chapel or maybe a particular ornate mess hall. Strange alien designs hung on the walls and long benches lay in curiously asymmetrical rows here and there a console station flickered with the odd purplish light and strange symbols they had seen in the control room and at the keypad. CLANG! CLANG! Rounds ricocheted off the wall beside her as she through herself forward into a diving roll. Drake stood across the room frantically tapping at a keypad with one hand while firing one handed across the room at her, his face a mask of fear and concentration. His first shot had been lucky Sayeeda realised, Drake was comfortable with guns but even she would have struggled to hit a surprise target across a room while her attention was focused on another task. Well, maybe she would have struggled.
"How the fuck did you get out!" Drake shrieked his voice high with panic as he frantically hammered at the keypad.
"Not really relevant!" she shoulded back, glancing up to make sure Neil had made it through the doorway safely. To her relief he had.
"You aren't taking me back, there is too much work to do!"
"Full disclosure Drake, I don't give a damn about your work and my contract with your father dosen't specify what condition your kneecaps need to be in!"
"You don't understand with the knowledge of this facility..." she came up in a crouch sighted and fired across the room, two sharp snaps as the electromotive weapon drove the light metal slugs up the barrel faster than the speed of sound. There was a diffuse red flash and Drake dropped to the floor, shrieking in agony, and clutching at his lower thigh where her shots had torn to neat holes. Blood stained his finger and he whimpered for a moment.
"Crazy fucking bitch," he whined and then to his evident shock the door behind him hissed open.</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Colonel Gerharht," Sayeeda began in a measured one, "Do you have a holo projector available?" The Colonel nodded and began to speak into her lapel communicator. The buzz of conversation in the room began to rise as the various members of the council took up various excited conversations of their own. The small knot about Cho-Lan seemed to be gaining in heat and venom as various lords exchanged quiet urgent words.
The Duke arched an eyebrow at the mercenary captain, a warning smoldered behind his eyes, warning her that she better not be wasting his time. After a moment two uniformed militia hurried across the floor, carrying a dated but functional holoprojector between them. They lay the unit on the ground and powered it on, a blank ambiance of light springing to light above it at the touch of a button. Junebug knelt beside the unit, unhooked her helmet and plugged the output cable into the unit. The projection shimmered into a series of alpha numeric characters.
"Booster, playback beginning at time-stamp Hotel One Seven Niner," she commanded. The projection shifted to the slightly shaky view from the camera in her helmet as she exited the airlock. The Magos Biologus moved closer, eyes bright with interest. The file had no sound associated with it and so a hush fell across the assembled crowd.
"Booster, triple speed, pause at weapon discharge for one second before continuing." The events on the asteroid base played out in shaky relief. There was no visual enhancement so the footage remained grainy but it was clear enough. Junebug felt her adrenaline glands tighten as she relieved the scenes the footage. There were several shots of the xenos and the horrible fate they had inflicted on their human victims.
When the footage reached the portion where the scientists were sequestered behind their shielded compartment she paused the recording. A shocked murmer ran through the crowd.
"Who are these men!" the Duke thundered, the Magos peered closer at the footage though it was difficult to make much out from the low quality recorder. Sophisticated computers could polish the image up somewhat, though it still might be hard to positively identify a face. The room grew quiet.
"Advance five seconds," Sayeeda commanded. The shot showed her pulling the grenade and rolling it across the floor before turning. THe blast wasn't in the shot but it was clearly evident when the view frame pitched forward violently.
"Is there any chance they survived?" the Duke asked in a cold deadly voice.
"Doubtful," Sayeeda said professionally, "It was a fuel air charge we use for busting bunkers, probably lucky it didn't depressurize the asteroid."
"Did we hire mercenaries to murder our citizens!" one of the Lords near Cho-Lan thundered. The Duke turned a baleful glance on the coterie of nobles. Then he turned to the Magos who was busy reviewing imagery on a smaller display.
"What is your assessment Rogefar?"
@POOHEAD189</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The Biologus rubbed his chin with his long fingers. "Play it back if you would, Captain," he told Sayeeda in a respectful tone. Most likely he considered it prudent to hold no judgements of anyone for their profession, particularly if they gave him something new to learn. When Junebug reversed the footage back, he asked it to be paused when the Xenos were amid the human bodies. The image caused the military men in the room to clench their jaws in anger, whereas the Nobles seemed more sickened by their collective fates, as well as the gruesome images.
"Interesting..." He mused. The silence as he considered was deafening. Neil dug into his ear with his pinky finger in the background, trying to scratch a particular itch. Rogefar shook his head in the meantime. "I would need one to examine to know for certain, but they're neither arachnids nor of the order hymenoptera, yet almost a hybrid of both. And yet...not..." his eyes widened. "If I had to guess, your Highness, I would say they were a life form based on silicates. That might explain their other-worldly biology, and why they are so incredibly durable as you have claimed, Captain Cyckali. They seem eusocial as well, though this is all highly speculative of course-"
"And what does any of this mean," The Duke cut in.
Rogefar blinked, as if snapping back into reality. "Yes, o-of course," he said, stepping back and pulling at his collar. "I get lost in my speculations as you know, your Highness." Æthelwulf waved him to continue, and he presented himself before the Duke. Astador stood beside the Duke, black armored arms crossed. He looked impassive with his helmet on, but he resonated attentiveness all the same.
"I have never heard of Organisms being used to transport others through the vacuum of space, but if from what little I have seen here is correct, it is not entirely out of the realm of possibility."
"What is the most effective way of killing them?" Astador asked.
"Fire worked well." Neil pipped in, causing everyone to swerve and look at him. Neil didn't seem too bothered by that however. Rogefar continued. "Yes. Fire and super heated steam, perhaps. Conventional weaponry would be effective, of course. But perhaps not as much as one would hope. If they are truly eusocial, they'll have a command structure and leader organisms. They would move in a way that would seem odd to conventional tactics. But that's assuming they are intelligent beasts. They wouldn't be without a central hive mind. If they are, however...it would be very difficult to defend the lands between Manu-Cities. The villages and towns, they would need to be evacuated, your Highness."
"Do you realize the manpower that would take?" Rekkr pipped in. He stepped toward the Magos Biologis, causing the man to shrink back. Rekkr glanced from the Duke to Rogefar. "My men's families are out there. We'll defend every inch of this planet if need be."
"Rekkr," The Duke replied, drawing the big man's gaze. "If this is all true, defending the factories would be far easier than defending open spaces. We would have free reign to bombard the Xenos that landed there as well."
"Your Highness!-"
"Silence." Æthelwulf said, slamming his fist onto the arm of his throne. "I recognize your concern, old friend. But I'll not be questioned on the defense of my world. I need your support."
"Your Highness," a voice called from the back.
"What!?" Æthelwulf snarled, causing the disheveled messenger to blanch back in fear. He didn't know what to say for a moment, before sputtering to continue. "A-Anomalies have been spotted three hundred thousand kilometers from orbit, and we have lost communication with Virinax."
The room fell into a hush once more, though it was short lived. Within seconds, a burst of commotion erupted once the news had sunk in. Lords leaping up, announcing they were returning to their facilities. Rekkr calling to get the High Gunner on the comm, and Neil simply whistling his condolences. It was when the Duke stood up and called for the arrest of the Lords that the room suddenly calmed once more.
"Arrest?" Byrnhold repeated incredulously, laughing in disbelief. "You forget yourself sir! You don't have the comman-"
"I have absolute command, my Lord." The Duke spat. "This is only temporary, until I can find out why there were men studying these beasts at the facilities. Don't think I have not had you and yours investigated, either. We will speak more of this later, but as of now your resources are recommissioned for the greater good of Fornax." The pronouncement turned the Lords from arrogant windbags to red-faced windbags. The Duke ignored them, turning to Astador. "We'll need your Knights to aid in evacuations."
"You have them," Astador replied, his voice reverberating from within his helmet. Æthelwulf gave a curt nod, before his eyes fell on Sayeeda and Neil. "I assume you two want to live?"
Neil nodded his head, Sayeeda giving a nod akin to the one he just gave Astador. "Good. If you survive this I'll see you suitably rewarded once more, but for now we need to evacuate the townships and villages. Take your ship and do so. You'll be given coordinates. Astador and his Knights will do the same. Take a few of his Knights to aid you."</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The Highlander shuddered for a moment in dynamic stasis before settling to the thruster burned earth. The yellowish local grass flashed to fire for an instant but was quickly snuffed by the hungry intakes of the settling starship. The low scrubby bushes surrounding the hillside came alive for a moment as dozens of small reptiloid animals, local fauna who had chosen to freeze rather than flee when the metal behemoth roared down from the heavens, reevaluated their choice and bolted for safety.
The Highlander perched on a slight hillock several hundred meters north of one of Fornax's outlying hamlets. The village, whatever it was called, differed only in arrangement from the dozen they had already visited. For that matter it seemed of a piece with a half dozen worlds Sayeeda had seen during her time with the Armored. To a tanker, villages were places where indiges with RPG's could hide, or insurgents could melt away into in times of trouble. They provided no real cover from plasma weaponry though, provided you were willing to use it on what some might consider civilian targets.
"Disembarking," came the mechanical voice of one of the Knights as they unassed the vehicle through one of the boarding gates, already striding across the charred hilltop towards the gawping villagers, integral speakers blasting edicts of evacuation. It would take them a few minutes to convince the villagers that they really should abandon everything they owned and flee to the massive fortress-like fabrication cities. Junebug viewed the knights with a certain amount of professional contempt. They were certainly brave and skilled but their structure was too feudal to allow for much tactical flexibillity and their armor, impressive and effective on lower tech worlds, wouldn't be particularly effective against the kind of modern plasma weapons or high intensity EM pieces Sayeeda was familiar with. To a rabble of villagers like those below, they must have seemed the the emissaries of an angry god.
Sayeda sat in her command chair, though her body below the head was covered with the metal plasitc shell of the auto-doc which she had moved from the medbay/galley to the bridge. Periodically she felt her flesh jabbed by needles or cooled by the infusions of various drugs. According to Looney's somewhat jaunty assessment shed be 'fit to wrestle a greased pig' in no time, although the abominable accent rendered the word as 'peg'. In the background she kept an audio feed of the battle in orbit playing. Sayeeda was no Navarch but it didn't sound to her like things were going well. Most human warships of any size relied heavily on manuevering through the RIP to close interstellar distance and evade their enemies. The strange dark matter shadow the aliens were casting made that impossible and the Fornax fleet didn't seem to have the training in squadron operations to make up the loss.
After the meeting they had been 'escorted' to their ship and had their cargo off coffee unceremoniously dumped onto the dock. Sayeeda had objected stenously before the commander of the Knights curtly informed her that the Duke would indemnify her for the loss. After that they had flown from one outlying village to another, ferrying people back to the central cities as quickly as it was possible.
"We really should have lit for orbit when we had the chance," Sayeeda spoke softly so as not to be overheard by the pair of Knights who had remained on board.
"This is likely to turn into a real shit show."</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"The Fornax Navy has lost," Taya corrected austerely. She held an arm forth towards the mercenaries. A smooth metal wristband with dozens of buttons on it encircled her wrist. Biting her lip in frustration she tapped several buttons with a rapidity that suggested long practice. A holographic display sprang to life before her. Sayeeda recognized it as a map of the Fornax system. Large red dots and smaller blue dots flashed along with projected courses and velocity. Neil sighed immediately. Sayeeda cast a side long glance at him, there still seemed to be plenty of blue dots on the screen.
"Its worse than it looks he explained," making a guesture at the velocity markings on one of the naval vessels.
"This is the Star Of Cobani, it looks like its close but its at nearly 0.8 C," he explained. Sayeeda understood, without the aid of the RIP it would take a week long burn to shed that kind of velocity. Even with a period that long it would stress the ship nearly to breaking. It was a rout, but seen in its very early stages as space battles were observed.
"Ok," Sayeeda conceded, "So we have a crazy RIP storm, space filled with hostile ships, dosen't seem like flight is a great option." Taya nodded, not in agreement, but gaining confidence as the conversation began to edge back towards what she had expected. The display changed as she keyed in some commands, shrinking the volume to the localized area of Fornax itself.
"The Magos believes that with the majority of the ships landing on Fornax, the storm disturbing the RIP might be navigable. At least marginally," Taya said calmly. There was an assurance in her voice that led Sayeeda to believe that she had good reason to accept whatever information she had gathered.
"The Duke has ordered it suppressed because of the well justified fear that anyone who had a ship might try to flee and take half the fighters with them." Sayeeda nodded, that did indeed make sense, certainly men like Cho-Lan would flee and take their retainers with them, dramatically weakening the defense the Duke was trying to mount.
"Even if that information is wrong, I've arranged to purchase three Cryo Pods. We can get up to a near lightspeed burn then go into cryo untill we clear the shadow. All information suggests that would take less then two or three months," Taya went on. Junebug was impressed the girl knew her business and seemed remarkably competent for the scion of high nobility.
"I assume both the Duke and your father have people watching you?" Sayeeda asked. Taya nodded quickly.
"Yes, constantly," she admitted, unconciously looking over her shoulder. What ruse had she used to make it to this meeting Sayeeda wondered.
"So next thing to do is come up with a plan to get you and your cryo pods aboard the Highlander."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"Oh, two OR three months," Neil repeated jokingly, lightheartedly pointing out the logic that the cryotubes being activated without a good set time could leave them trapped upon the Highlander for a galactic month. It wouldn't be impossible, and they had the foodstuffs, but just barely. That and, they'd need something to do the entire time. Sure, he could work on his mech and Sayeeda could drill or help him build, but that wouldn't take a month! Then again, they had a lot they could do. Cards, sex, arm wrestling, sex, have-I-ever, sex, drinking, cards, drinking, sex-.
Still, wouldn't be an ideal situation.
Neil placed his hands on his hips, biting his tongue as his mind whirred with the possibilities. "Well, you've come to the right place." He said to Taya, actually acting a fair bit professional when it came to mischief. "Cryopods aren't too big, depending on the model." He said, one hand reaching up to rub his chin. He'd gotten a 5'oclock shadow from the recently hectic days, with no real time shaving since before they got here. "I assume you don't feel confident in escaping your dad's lackeys a second time?"
"Not particularly..." She said, shifting. He could tell she was a smart girl, but smuggling and going against her father was putting her out of her element. "Maybe, but not for long."
"And where's the Cryopods?" Neil asked her, wondering exactly what funds Cho-Lan was letting her use if she could purchase 3 fairly costly items without suspicion on her father's bank records. She pipped up with. "They're in a storage facility close to my father's eastern factory. I'm known to own it, but no one really looks inside. I made sure they were hidden." Her voice sounded positive on that front, and he believed her.
He nodded, gazing inwardly. He spoke his thoughts aloud, words flying off the press as they entered his mind.
"I think the best thing to do would be to procure a hauler (hauling walker)," Neil said, referring to the mini-mechs workers used to carry loads a dozen men would be needed for. They were archaic in design, but still used for tough, cheap labor. He pointed to Taya without looking her way. "You should keep in contact with us, and without telling your father, go to someplace...unexpected. Something the men tailing you would be suspicious of. You do that, and meet us at a rendezvous. Once they've followed you in, the Captain will take them out." He winked to Sayeeda. "While I get the hauler into position. You two head back to meet me, and both Sayeeda and I will take the tailer's uniforms, and follow you with the cryotubes to our ship. I'm glad we're already parked in a Cho-lan hanger. Means we won't need to go far."
Gods, he wished he could have finished his own Valk already. Still, stealing a hauler wouldn't be hard. He'd actually done it half a dozen times. He knew how to move them and even make them. Hell, he'd steal the hauler too...</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The warehouse stank of lubricants and rusted metal. It had made a good choice for the meet, seeing as Taya technically owned it though had never visited the hab. It was unoccupied and unlike many of the busier fabrication plants, clearly had been for some time. There was absolutely no reason the daughter of a magnate would choose to visit it in the middle of a full scale war, which made it the perfect lure.
"Are you sure everything is all set?" Taya's voice said in Junebug's mastoid implant, her nervousness evident even with the distortion of semi-mismatched units. It wasn't the first time she had asked some variation on the question, or the fifth.
"Stay of the band, everything is set," Sayeeda responded tersely. If they all survived this mess she was going to have a conversation with Taya about radio discipline. It was unlikely that anyone following her had the sort of SIGINT needed to monitor the low power radio she was using, but that was a poor reason to take the chance. Sayeeda was crouched on an uper gangway over looking the working floor of the factory. The place was a maze of derrick, converybelts and other less identifiable industrial junk. The better to spirit Taya away from her shadows. She would just have to hope Neil held up his end of the operation.
As if summoned by her misgiving, her helmet carroted sound, too dim for the human ear to pick up but detectable to the sophisticated sensors in her commo helmet. Twisting slightly she turned towards the motion dialing up the magnification. A trio of large men were entering the factory floor. THey wore mismatched but functional body armor and carried large mouthed shotguns which were in obvious good repair. That wasn't what any security detail should be carrying. Add that to the fact that the men were here before Taya and had come from a different direction and the conclusion was unpleasant. THey weren't a security detail. They were either a snatch team or assassins.
"I'm coming inside," Taya's voice came over the radio.
"NO.." Junebug began about to tell the girl to abort and head back for the dubious saftey of the palace, but the metal roller door was already clattering open.
"There she is!" one of the men snapped, uncoiling a length of neural shock wire with a snap of his wrist. A snatch team them.
"What is going on?" Taya asked in a startled scared voice, the bulky men silouteed against an opening between vast foundry vats from her perspective. Junebug dropped the stunner she had planned on using and unslung her submachine gun. It was a poor weapon for the task but it would have to do.
"Taya, get down!" she snapped and squeezed off a three round burst from her elevated position. One of the men screamed and stumbled back with a sound like a buzzsaw hitting a porcelain vase, one of the slugs shattering his armor like a fragmentation grenade. The facility woke with echos as the remaining rounds ricochet wildly around disussed workspace, tracing orange sparks wherever they struck metal. Taya was screaming and covering her head with her hands as she lay on the ground. An understandable but unhelpful reaction, to the sudden dire turn of events. One of the remaining mercs was swinging his shotgun towards the girl. Junebug unloaded the entire magazine in a single long burst that sounded like the main truss of a house giving way. A dozen or more rounds ricoched in a cascade of sparks and filled the air with an incredible cacophony. The rounds missed their targets but it accomplished its goal of making both men duck for cover.
"Taya! Go! To your right!" Junebug yelled as she stood and cast aside her sub machine gun, the barrel glowing white and visibly warping from the few seconds of continuous firing. Suddenly she really wished she had bought her plasma rifle, but needs must. She ran along the gangway at full tilt, unsnapping her 10mm plasma pistol as she ran, snapping of a few unaimed shots at her targets. Below a shot gun went off, like a grenade in a glass factory but thankfully Taya was staggering to the side, taking cover behind a large metal console. Sayeeda snapped off tow more shots and then vaulted over the saftey railing to drop the six feet to the top of a large industrial tank, her boots hiting with a clang as she turned the dive into a roll to rob it of its momentum.
"Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god," Tanya was babbling in the comlink, but this was no time for prayers. Shotguns thundered and she felt the tank shiver, though the deflection was enough to shelter her as she rolled to her right and dropped catching the lip of the tank with her fingertips for only a second, breaking her momentum before dropping the ten feet to the ground. Her armor dug painfully into her hips as she hit the ground, but she could worry about that later.
"Fire in the hole!" one of the mercs yelled and Sayeeda grabbed Taya, now only a few feet away and pulled her close pressing the girl between herself and the side of the metal tank. There was a dirty explosion and a noise so defeaning that it stunned the former armored captain for a moment. Fortunately reflex supplied the lack of decision and she found herself shoving Taya forward towards a side door to a machine alcove. Dimly she became aware of other shots, smaller calibre pistols cracking behind her and the shotguns roared again. A man was screaming and the air stank of cordite and the vaporized haze of aluminum driving bands. It was Taya's security detail.
"Here! Cover me!" Junebug yelled, mouthing the words with exaggereated slowness and pressed the pistol into the girls shaking hands. Taya only looked at her in white faced shock. Sayeeda reached out and closed the girls hands around the gun and then physically turned her to point her back towards the developing fire fight. It was a losing bet that the girl would help, but it beat her panicing. As quickly as she good Sayeeda unhooked a long cylinder of thermite breaching putty and scribed a quick triangle, about a meter to all dimension on the featureless metal wall behind them. The liquid was dull orange and stank of acrid chemicals. Behind her Taya fired the pistol wildly, a half dozen shots in the rapid crack crack crack of panic fire. Ignoring the girl she shoved a small detonator into one of the joins where streaks of breaching putty overlapped.
"Fire in the hole!" she yelled, from habit rather than any current need, and clicked the detonator in her right hand. The putty lit of in crump of ignition and glowed so bright that it left purple after images in Sayeeda's eyes for a moment. The metal sagged back and a triangular section dropped to the floor with a clang. A fist gripped her shoulder and Junebug spun her fist coming up in straight fingered jab before she realized it was Taya.
"It wont fire!" Taya was yelling, tears streaming down her sallow cheeks. The weapon only held twelve rounds and they had almost certainly all been fired in the few seconds Taya held the weapon. Rather than wasting time explaining she grabbed the girl by collar and belt and through her physically through her impromptu egress point. Bullets cracked of the metallic walls as Junebug dived after the noble. Finding herself in a narrow alley she grabbed Taya and bolted in the general direction of the ship.
"Neil," she yelled breathily, "I have Taya but we have a bit of a complication, pick up the pace if you can!"</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda fled down the alleyway between the warehouses, clattering down a spiraling staircase that led to another level. They slowed to a brisk walk as they crossed a busier hab floor. The gunfire on the level above was only faintly audible from here, and somehat indistinct over the noise of functioning industrial machinery. A few people gave them a look, but quickly turned away when they saw Sayeeda's still smoking pistol.
"Negative on the assist, there was a bit of a complication but it might work to our advantage, focus on the cryopods but pick up the pace if you can. We are going to lift soonest. Six out." Sayeeda concluded closing the comm circuit.
"Who who were those men?" Taya asked, her voice distant and shocked. The girl wasn't resisting but Junebug had to virtually shove her along to keep her moving in the right direction.
"Mercenaries, maybe the Duke's or more likely one of the other nobles looking to snatch you to use you as leverage," she replied. That would make the most sense the conspirators who had drawn the aliens here needed all the leverage they could get to put the fix soley on Cho-Lan who had seemingly been the most overtly involved.
"I think I killed one," Taya mumbled. Sayeeda remembered the girls panicy unaimed fire.
"Only if we had a miracle on our side," Junebug said, her voice neutral.
Twenty minutes later they were aboard the Highlander and Sayeeda was running through the preflight checks as quickly as she could with Lonney's help.
"Neil what is the hold up?"</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"You know, I think they might be on to me." Neil remarked to himself as he crashed through the gateway that received workers and shipments from the outer stations of the facility. The small gate made of thin poles exploded from Neil's hauler, the mecha moving faster than any legal speed for a mech that size. Luckily, the workmen didn't really have any forewarning of a charging hauler, and were a bit too dumbstruck and scrambled to really react in time to bring a swift pursuit.
He slowed once around the next corner, trying to do his best to stomp casually as he made his way into the storage facility. Only problem was, he needed to actually pry open Taya's container. He hadn't gotten the key or the code. He guessed Taya was so done with this planet she cared very little for leaving a mess behind, but it didn't make it any easier for him. He found the correct block at least. C045, on the third level.
Neil took the lift up. The storage areas were large cubes, attached to one another along wide lanes. It seemed like a parody of a utilitarian suburban neighborhood. The lift let out a blast of air from the pistons, and he was drawn up to the third level, opening to reveal the lane that led right to the storage area. He let out a breath, realizing this was going to be a tricky situation, and he stabbed the fork of the Hauler under the door, lifting it up inch by inch to reveal the three Cryotubes. Needless to say, the alarm went off.
"Yeah yeah yeah." Red flashes and obnoxious honks echoed across the facility. Just as he was slipping the Cryotubes into his claws, the lift down the hall lowered. Neil turned his head, raising an eyebrow. It took less than 20 seconds for the lift to begin going back up, and upon it were four security officers with submachine guns, fully outfitted with flak vests and communicators.
"Hold it!" The lead man cried as one of his partners behind him began to murmur into his comm, and Neil knew he couldn't afford to wait for their backup. He turned his Hauler, the Cryotubes a buffer in front of him. Luckily, there weren't many spaces within the cockpit either for bullets to enter. He was fairly safe from small arms fire unless they got lucky themselves. "I said hold it! Drop the Cryotubes, now!"
"Oh you mean these Cryotubes right here?" Neil replied like a whip, and shoved one of the tubes forward. It slid off the Hauler's claws and spun slowly down the lane, going about 30 km if he had to guess. The men let off a few rounds, one bullet ricocheting off Neil's Hauler, but the others going wide. They scrambled to get out of the way of the Cryotube. One guardtripping over himself, having to be yanked out of the way by his partner before he was flattened.
It has been a ruse however, as Neil had moved his Hauler expertly, charging down the lane behind the Cryotube and lifting it up again once the lift area was clear. Casually he bumped one of the recovering men with a claw, knocking him into another storage cube's doorway with a resounding 'thud.'
"Neil what is the hold up?" Sayeeda asked on the comm. She would hear gunfire as the other men did their best to collect themselves, unloading their weapons on the Hauler as the lift carried Neil down toward the first floor.
The bullets glanced off the Hauler's visor and cockpit, save one. Neil let out a cry of pain when one bullet punched into the meat of his side. He thought it wasn't a fatal wound, or even something to worry about if he got it bandaged. But he already felt the warm blood seeping down his hip, and the cold feeling of an open wound in the air. It wasn't like he'd never been shot before, however, and through force of will he moved the Hauler the last mile to the hanger bay. Other than a few confused men and women trying to get out of his way, the coast was clear.
"Yeah, had a small complication." He said, sounding somewhat tired. "Nothing I can't handle."
Lonney opened the back Hanger, and the Hauler's feet gripped the Xarconian steel of the ramp as it balanced the three Cryotubes, moving up one step at a time. Neil felt like it took an eternity, but in reality it was less than a minute before he dropped the three workable (but scraped) Cryotubes into the loading bay. The Hauler's hatch would open, and he painfully climbed out as quickly as he could, hitting the ground in an agile, but less than smooth landing, and making his way to the Cockpit.
"Aight, let's take this baby for a ride." He said breathlessly to Junebug. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and there would be the odd droplet of blood down the cockpit access corridor. But he gave off a feral determination with the look in his eyes. "Ready Lonney?" He called as he flipped a few switches.
"Aye, First Mate Neil sir!" The AI replied, Neil glad Sayeeda had powered up the engines. All he had to do was lift her up and take the landing gear off, switching the pilot to manual and flipping on the sublight engines to be used very shortly. "Let's get the hell out of here," he said, turning on the throttle.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The Highlander lifted smoothly into the air and up towards the open sky. Sayeeda watched through the view screen as the plasma thrusters bathed the piles of offloaded coffee, flaming it to ruined ash. She had managed to reload about a quarter of the original quantity, with the aid of the exosuit Neil had made for her, but without steevedores, salvaging the rest was a bust. She supposed she would have to settle for making it out of here alive.
Almost immediately the comm circuit began to sqwak with demands to put down and threats that the airspace was closed. Junebug didn't respond manually but she keyed the automated codes that Cho-Lan had given them as well as those the Duke's people had provided for the civilian evac, figuring that the confusion would cover them.
"I've locked out the main missile batteries," Taya stated from the third, and usually empty, command seat. Junebug turned on her gimbling seat to regard the girl with surprise. In the excitement of the departure she had almost forgotten about her.
"What? How?" Sayeeda demanded incredulously. Simultaneously with the question she bought up a copy of Taya's terminal in a twenty five percent section of her own holo screen. Tabulated data of some kind, obviously to do with the comm system, but unintelligible to Sayeeda scrolled past.
"I used the microwave transmitor to send the code for a training drone to the sensor head. It switched the program from active to simulation. They can still get a solution on us but if they try to fire all they will get is a simulation complete screen," the girl explained, beaming with pride.
"That's insane," Sayeeda countered,"even equipment on this dustbowl cant be that easy to spoof." Her eyes ran over the text, she wasn't a signals expert but it seemed to bear out some of what the girl was saying.
"There is a way to deactivate the simulator switch over, but it is usually performed during set up and testing. I don't think my fathers men are that thorough." Sayeeda supposed that was true and she was about to ask the girl just how the hell she knew how to do it in the first place when the Highlander shook violently.
"Ta aer be a shakin!" Lonney chimed in, unhelpfully. Sayeeda changed the feed to show the direction pick up from the source of the sound. Long white tracers of water vapor had ripped through the sky moments before, shaking the air with their passage.
"Are they shooting at us?!" Taya asked, clearly worried her clever fix hand't worked.
"No," Sayeeda replied, shaking her head. Another few clicks changed the feed to a magnified view behind them, over the hab in the far distance, dirty flashes could bee seen on a distant ridge, too far away for the crumps of impact to reach them.
"Its outgoing, the bugs must be making their first probe on the city and whatever arty the Duke has is opening up." She looked grimly at the display.
"The invasion is starting for real."</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug looked around the scruby forest that covered the shoreline. They seemed willowy and sinuous compared to the Tara pines of her homeworld, but she had been on many planets and seen many different eco systems since then. There were no animals in sight, which was good because Junebug was pretty sure she didn't want to meet any animal that calmly accepted a thousand tons of starship crashing out of the sky.
"Damn," she said as she got her first look at the great rents in the side of the ship. Whatever had savaged them in the RIP had torn long diagonal slashes, the force of which had left the jagged edges raninbowe with heat stress. As she watched water gurgled lazily into the open holds and she felt the ship shift and then grind softly onto the pale sand beneath them. The eddying water slowed. They were in an estuary or a small river mouth with only thirty meters or so to shore on either side of them. They must have come very close to breaking the back of the ship when they hit. She suspected that Neil's last minute burst of thrust had saved them and there was a smell in the air like molten glass and burned mud that suggested she was right.
"Power reserves at critical Cap'm," Lonney's voice chimed in her mastoid radio.
"Roger that Lonney shut down if you need to."
"Aye Cap'm but what about Popsicle number three?" Sayeeda frowned trying to puzzle out the AI's meaning until she realised that Taya was still in the pod and would likely die if the power went completely out. Lonney must be channeling the last few watts of power into keeping her alive.
"Start the thaw cycle Lonney we will be down in a sec," she snapped and spun to drop back into the Highlander. A minute later she was cracking the seal and helping a shaken looking Taya out of her cry pod and into some dry clothes.
"First thing is first we better get the gun jeep onto dry land," she told Neil as she returned, leaving Taya in the cryo bay to recover her senses. The pilot had obviously been surveying the damage and looked rather mournful.
"From there we can run lines out to the ship to at least keep the lights on, even a small fusion bottle is more than enough juice for that." She sank down to the deck and peered across the narrow stretch of water at the pale sandy shore, it was almost pure white.
"I didn't see any tech on the scopes on the way down, the Goddess alone knows how we are going to get Her to lift again."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
With deft fingers, Neil twirled a wrench from his toolkit as she asked her last question, his easy going yet daring grin back on his face. "Oh, just leave that to me. I know this ship like the back of my hand by now," He said, catching the wrench in his grip. Only then did he see the cut across the back of his hand. "
How long has that been there?
"
Not giving Sayeeda time to question his expertise, he expertly hopped down into the Highlander and went about his work. Before he started tinkering on the ship, Neil hopped into the jeep, revving up the engine and getting the gears moving. At first it didn't start up. But after a few choice knocks from one of his tools, it began to purr. Neil ran his hands along the wheel with a familiar touch, always ready to pilot anything he could get his hands on.
"Um," he heard from behind him. The voice of an uneasy, young woman. "Are we going somewhere?"
Neil's body fidgeted from the vehicle as he turned his head to see Taya standing in the entrance-way of the lower exit bay, clothed but with her hair still dripping wet from the liquid prison she had just been encased in. Neil suddenly felt the fire in his veins die down a bit, the adventure they were now on turning into what must be an odd and scary unknown for their new, unwitting crew member. He breathed a sigh and shut the vehicle off for the moment.
"I am heading out just to get the jeep on the beach. We've made it to an unknown planet that...I guess Junebug told you?" He asked her finally, and she gave a silent nod. Neil guessed she didn't know every detail, and so he gestured for her to head back in. "Just grab some rations and get some water. Junebug will be down in a sec." He told her, and winked. "Just chill."
The exit bay opened and he turned the jeep on once more, slow going at first to then speed up before the 'downward' exit ramp to gain some air, hitting the beach with a spray of sand and a satisfying crunch of the impact on the ground. The vehicle twirled, its back now facing the forest as Neil's front had a clear view of the Highlander's exit bay. Neil squinted from the sudden light of the sun, and he reached up to lift the visor to have it block some light, only to find some sunglasses folded up there.
"Oh," he said, slipping them on his face and smirking.
This felt like he was back on his home planet, truth be told. The heat on his skin, a nice ride, and some glasses. "Yeah all I need is an interplanetary mech war." He joked, and hopped out of the vehicle, jumping onto its hood and calling to Sayeeda. "You want to look around first or what?"</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Naturally Junebug did. The picked their way through the scrubby forest in the jeep, Neil expertly juking around foliage which a heavier vehicle would simply have plowed over. As they climed a rise that was part dune and part low hill Junebug pulled her helmet down over her face and toggled it to infrared. The landscape lit up in a series of pastel yellows and blues. Here and there she saw an orange flash of heat from what might be small aninimal. Behind them the Highlander glowed hot in a number of places, still cooling from the rapid decent. As they crested the rise she switched back to regular vision.
Before them stretched a wide forested plain, rising towards a greenish blue range of mountains in the far distance. The landscape was split by a surprising number of creeks and swales, many of them as large or bigger than the small river the Highlander had put down in. The trees rose high, up to thirty meters in places, but so unevenly distributed as to make the landscape look wavy and unnatural. The leaves were green but seemed to be more like collections of hair or cilia than true leaves of Terran extraction. A few animals chattered and hooted and though she could see a few heat signatures nothing jumped out as immediately alarming. There was no sign of settlements or technology as far as her magnified vision could see.
"Well if there is an infantry battalion sneaking up on us, they have some damn good camo," she observed sourly.
"Looks like we have the place to ourselves."
"Lets hunt up some food and see if we can eat the local, then we can get our mind to repairs."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"Well I can think of worse planets to be stranded on." Neil said as he parked the jeep, dust blooming in the air at the sudden lack of momentum from the vehicle. The pilot shut off the engine, and had to bite his tongue in order for him not to jinx them any further. This did seem surprisingly lucky for how fucked they were less than a day ago. He'd never had an experience on the Highlander that didn't go from out of the pot and into the fire.
Still, this place was pretty ideal for a tourist location from what he'd seen, and yet the lack of any civilization did not bode well for them. Either there was something on the world they hadn't seen that made humanity give it a wide berth, or they were further away from Imperial civilization than he was used to. "Well we still have a month's worth of supplies on the ship but-" he hopped out, his revolver already twirling in his fingers before halting midspin, smugly cocking it with a satisfying 'click.' "It's a good idea to ration it. Then again I am a city boy. You might need to hold my hand when it comes to hunting."
He certainly looked the part in his urban (albeit functionally simple) clothing, sunglasses gleaming sunlight off its dark lenses. It was an hour before Sayeeda's honed survival skills overcame Neil's incompetence. Then again, he did have a knack for moving quietly, and once he got the hang of slipping through the brush he became an asset. Soon, they caught a curious critter. A grey furred creature, with a raccoon's body proportions if not for the six legs and the bushy fox-like tail.
Neil had flushed it out and Junebug had caught it by the leg, killing it swiftly with her knife. Even after just over an hour, they were both sweating a fair bit from the heat. "Hopefully the sun lowers before too long. I'll need to check this planet's cycle," Neil said casually, stepping over a small bush and heading toward the clearing as Junebug skinned the creature. She saw the mistake Neil was making a second too late, as his foot stepped onto a bit of leaves that suddenly uprooted and shot into the air. Neil was suddenly whipped around by his foot just as the poor creature had been, and the pilot found himself dangling upside down in a makeshift, primitive trap.
Neil's glasses fell off his face, but he had the frame of mind to catch them as they fell. "Might want to cut me down quick!" he whispered vehemently, as the loud snapping of the branches that had yanked him up when he placed pressure on the rope had reverberated through the forest for Gods know how far. Whoever made the trap would be back sometime in the neat future even if they heard nothing.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug tried to stifle a snicker, but the events of the last couple of days caught up with her and she snorted out a peel of laughter at the dangling Neil. He hung from a snare wrapped tightly around his ankle looking distinctly unimpressed.
"If you're quite finished?" he asked acidly. With some difficulty she smoothed her face and grabbed hold of Neil's arm dragging him down towards the ground and bending the limb which had been cunningly bent to bear the weight. With a quick slash of her utillity knife she shredded the braided vines that wrapped the pilots boot and dropped him unceremoniously to the ground.
"Well I guess that answers the question of if we are alone here," she commented as Neil picked himself up on the ground. There had been no real heat signatures on the IR but that was only good out to a few clicks. Also it supposed that whoever had laid the snare was warmer than the ambient, which was likely but not certain.
"Maybe that works out in the long run," she added skeptically. Any society with a tech base that included snares was unlikely to run to starship repair but there was always hope. Perhaps a survivalist or a less advanced group on the fringes of a more complex society. Of course it also dramatically increased the chances that someone out there might be about to murder them, a frequent problem with people in general.
"We'd better get to work."
________________________
Junebug had not spent alot of time underwater in her career. There had been occasional insertions through swamps but the difficulty in keeping advanced weapons functioning made it impractical to attack through water. Consequently working underwater in the airsuit was not a comfortable experience. She pressed the structural plastic against the side of the gaping wound in the side of the Highlander and triggered the magnaweld. The strip flared briefly as it bonded the strip to the hull, patching the hole.
"OK fire up the pumps," she said over the comms. Raising the Highlander was priority one.</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The night was clear and quiet again save for the heavy breathing of all concerned. With a weary effort Junebug pressed one hand to the ground and lifted herself to her feet, taking care to keep her weapon free. Smoke drifted slowly from the barrel of the weapon as she scanned the jungle. Taya trembled, holding Neil's smoking pistol in both hands. The girl's eyes were like saucers and Junebug gave it even odds that she was about to throw up. With meticulous care she refastened her patrol sling and slung the submachinegun before picking her way up the slope. With a slow deliberate motion she plucked the pistol from the young woman's unyielding hands, cracked the chamber, closed the weapon and put the safety on before handing it back to Taya. Zalli stood not far away, forearms slicked in blood from the knife she held in a reverse handed grip. The native girl's chest heaved with exertion and excitement which Junebug was objective enough to concede was distracting. She didn't try to take the knife, the girl obviously knew enough to handle the weapon.
The large creature lay sprawled against a grayish boulder projecting from the ridge, greenish blood flowing into the volcanic red dirt. Up close the thing appeared to be more cat like, though given a weird aspect by the unusually long front legs. Its mouth was filled with long razored teeth as well as cartilaginous spurs that ran from the things joints. There was a strange smell too, like a combination of cinnamon and ammonia. Junebug wondered if the things were venomous. Turning her flashlight on she illuminated the things paw and was relieved to find claws but no obvious venom.
"Well," Junebug commented, voice seeming oddly loud in the quite the followed the moments of frenetic action.
"Let's get the fuck out of here."
In the aftermath of the ambush no one was enthusiastic about making camp and they marched through the night, stopping briefly at dawn to eat a quick meal of fruit foraged by Zalli and Neil. Taya marched resolutely head down and grip tight on the gun, though what she thought it would accomplish with no rounds was any ones guess. An hour later Taya stiffened suddenly and Junebug lifted her weapon.
"I have a ping from the Highlander," she said, the first words she had spoken in some hours, voice cracking for want of a drink of water. She seemed to focus for a moment and then turned a few degrees to the north.
"Got a bearing," she reported happily. Another hour later, guided by Taya's radio beacon they climbed over the low rise and looked down upon the crippled ship, still moored to the bank and unmolested.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The trek was uncomfortable to say the least. Neil sometimes felt they were being watched the first mile or two, stalked by the predator they had wounded. But soon it disappeared, and not a glimpse was seen of it again. Zalli's arm bled, but not profusely. She had handed it back to Neil, and Neil in turn ripped a bit of his native dress to wrap around her wound once they ate breakfast. "You know, so much shit keeps happening," he said to Sayeeda with a shrug and a helpless smile. "I keep forgetting we're not getting paid by someone."
He gave a laugh at his own words, unable to help himself when he viewed their dire circumstances. Neil and the others ached and had a true want for water, but they moved on and kept at it until Taya announced with a croak that the Highlander was near.
When they finally made it to the ship, Neil gave a savage "yesssss," clenching his fist. Running his hands through his hair, he remembered they had fresh water and food onboard, not to mention a showering unit. Yes it was all limited, but if they got the engines working again it wouldn't matter. Plus the shower water went through the automated cleansing system to be drinkable again. That should still be working if the life support was.
Taya nearly wept when she saw the ship, though instead of crying or prostrating herself, she gave the longest and most tired sigh. "Thank the Gods of the Realm." She said, swallowing to make her throat the tiniest bit more moist from their long trek. Quetzalli was happy too, but in an entirely different fashion. While not quite as used to rough situations like Junebug, she was still a tribeswoman and knew how it felt to face harship. Her main focus was on the strange beast made of metal before her, larger than all dwellings save the ziggurats she had served in. Her eyes were wide and her full lips were open in wonder.
Neil, of course, saw it as an old friend. "Can't wait to have another chat with Lonney." He coughed, and headed toward the open hatch door and toward the inner entrance, his feet digging into the sand before they stepped on solid Xarconian steel. The young pilot inserted the correct algorithm to open the door. To their relief, it opened with a small 'hiss.'
"Permission to clean our wounds, wash up, and get something to fucking eat Captain?"</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug felt comfortable for the first time since Fornax. After a few hours sleep, and a shower so hot that her skin was still warm minutes later, it felt as though a veil had been lifted. She sat at the galley table sipping hot bitter coffee and chewing determinedly toast which had been blackened to within a few degrees of ash. The clothes helped immeasurably too, few things were as subltey disorienting as strange garb, now she wore fatigue pants, combat boots and a tan brown cotton PT shirt.
"Take that brush and pull it through the ring," she instructed, gesturing with a piece of imitation bacon. Taya, seated across from her and wearing some of Sayeeda's spare close, picked up a piece of the disassembled pistol spread on the table and started to scrub the capacitor ring.
"Like this?" the girl asked. Junebug nodded her approval as she chewed her fakeon and took another swig of the bitter coffee. The smell of gun oil and cleaning products was a familiar and comforting one to the veteran and she picked up the stock of her own plasma rifle, a far more complex weapon than the one Taya was practicing with, and began snapping the pieces back together. Checking weapons and gear was a routine task but she couldn't pretend that her malfunctioning submachine gun hadn't made her a little more enthusiastic than usual.
"Hi-lo," came a sultry voice from the bulkhead door. Junebug looked up to see Quetzalli, clad in a gray jumpsuit, sniffing at the air. The girls eyes were wide and continued to dart from wonder to wonder. Junebug felt a pang of sympathy. Entering the Highlander would have been jarring for her under the best of circumstances but she had also taken a REM learning program while she slept. Sleep learning a language wasn't a matter of going to bed one night and waking up fluent. The technology provided equivalency to existing linguistic connections, it made learning a new language far easier than unaided study but a full course took weeks and relied on practice to consolidate the knowledge. Scrambling brain connections also left the student disoriented and made it hard to focus. Mercenary units enroute to theaters frequently used the technique to pick up enough local dialect to get by. Of course their primary concern was usually booze and companionship which were pretty much human universals.
"Hello," Junebug replied gesturing the girl into the compartment.
"Come, eat," she directed, pointing to the plate of bacon and toast in the middle of the table between the broken down weapons. She finished reassembling her rifle and clicked through the automated diagnostic before propping the weapon in a corner and wiping the tabletop clear of the minor detritus of the task.
"First officer," she said formally before taking a mouthful of coffee, the word tripping the shipwide communication circuit.
"Please report to the Council of War and Breakfast in the galley."
@POOHEAD189</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Sevendust blared in Neil's ears as he gave the engine a tuneup, trying to reroute every spare inch of power to the thing he could while cleaning out useless functions to get better output. His goggles were illuminated by the torch of his multi-tool as he worked, a grin on his face. He'd been yearning to work on something mechanical since they'd landed on this primitive world. Oh, he had attempted to rest, but he was at the point where he was so tired sleep wouldn't come, so he decided to make the most of it. While the ladies had gotten somewhat settled in, Neil inhaled a muffin replacement and delved into work.
Luckily it was just his muscles that were tired more than his nerves or eyes, and he could tank through that no problem. Time didn't seem a tangible thing until he felt more than heard Sayeeda's voice over the comm. He blinked, taking the eartube out of his ear and the goggles off his eyes to make sure. Once she repeated the order, he set his tools down and was eager to tell her the theoretical good news. He grabbed the door handled and swung out into the hall, before literally bounding into the War room, half excited to tell her, and he could smell the food from the hall. He appeared in the doorway suddenly.
"Hey..." he began, and for the first time he realized that he was the only male aboard the ship with the possible exception of Lonney when he had the right accent. Junebug sat straight and confident, exotic and strong. Taya waved and smiled. Quetzalli was elated that he showed up. They all looked at him, and he gave a smile. "So, what is up?"
"Hi-lo." Zalli said, giving him a broad smile that spoke volumes. Neil blinked, almost not recognizing her because she wore actual clothes. He pointed at her while he looked to Junebug. "Did she take a nap?" He asked with a smirk, and once his suspicions were confirmed he gave a laugh. "Well, I am glad to have you aboard." He said to her, reaching out to kiss her hand. Her smile grew more pleased, and Neil vaulted over the back of his chair and plopped down, fakon already in his mouth before he realized what he was doing.
"Scho fa good newv iv." He began, mouth full. Taya exhaled in a small chuckle, which brought him back to reality. He downed some water and continued. "The good news is, we have a small bit of power. Only...a fraction of what we usually would have in the engine. One of the pylons didn't use all of its juice, and I took out some secondary systems. So if we can somehow find a R.I.P. tide around the planet, I believe we can get out of here...assuming we know what galaxy we're in."</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug nodded and downed the last of her coffee, wincing at the bitterness of the cheap brew she had collected on Fornax. Over the years she had performed hundreds of briefings, some informal around tables like these, other times crouched in a circle of watchful armored vehicles. This was a different beast though more akin to a planning group in which she had usually participated only as a junior partner.
"That is good news," she agreed, "but it still leaves us with the problem of actually lifting to orbit." She touched a control on a wall panel and a schematic of the Highlander flashed into view. Three of the eight reticulated thrusters were in green with an other in a dark yellow, the remaining for were in red.
"We need to repair the thrusters but we cant do that while they are submerged in water," she went on rolling a vernier control to draw back to a view of the small embayment in which the ship floated.
"Building a retaining dam around the ship is still the best bet and we can use the centrifugal pumps to drain it."
"The problem is that our native friends," - now that Zalli might understand she refrained from using 'indig' or 'yokels' or some other derogatory term - "Aren't likely to leave us alone long enough for us to finish the project."
"Wetumpkah, or whoever won that little fracas at the games yesterday, isn't likely to leave us alone." Zalli, who had been gazing dreamily at the projection screen, which to be fair must seem like magic, started at Wetumpkah's name. Taya lay a hand on the girls arm calmingly.
"So we either need to come up with a plan to neutralize them, or better yet convince them to help with the dam." Although it was true that the crew could complete the work themselves, it would take days, maybe weeks with just the four of them. A rain of spears from the forest would add to that time considerably of course. There were other options of course. In Junebugs minds eye rock flashed into white gouts of flame as she raked the ziggurat with cyan jets of plasma. Huts burst into flames as the locals fled in terror into the woodlands to escape the hell light firestorm. SHe blinked her eyes suddenly snapping back to the real world and aware that others had been speaking while she zoned out.</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug sipped at the coffee without enthusiasm. Her head was still a little foggy from the bender the night before and she couldn't quite bring everything into focus. The man seemed well informed about them, which was a neat trick halfway around the galaxy from where they had last been logged. Then again he could just be guessing based on old records and the shape their ship arrived in, the repair crew was bound to talk about something as obvious as the void kraken damage afterall.
"So why not go to the police?" Junebug asked skeptically, tapping the rim of her cup with a fingernail. Chen removed his glasses and drew a rose colored cloth from his pocket and began to polish the lens in a gesture that was clearly habitual.
"There are no police on this station Captain Cykali," Chen admitted, examining the lenses and slipping the glasses back onto his face.
"And here we were getting all worked up about being arrested." Cheng smiled tightly at that.
"There are a few gendarmes and of course there the corporate security types, but as you might appreciate, they have limited interest in missing persons," he replied bitterly, balling his fist before unclenching it and resting his knuckles on the tabletop.
"Look… Mr Cheng, I'm sure there are people better…" Junebug began but before she could finish the sentence Cheng's face contorted in genuine anger.
"There is no one else!" Cheng screamed hurling his coffee cup against the wall with a clatter and a splash. Taya jumped, startled by the outburst but Neil and Sayeeda remained immobile. Cheng seemed to regret the outburst and turned to pace back towards the rear of the room.
"Look, I can pay, I will pay you if you find her," Cheng went on. Sayeeda set her own coffee aside and removed her glasses to reveal eyes that were no long bloodshot. Glancing around the room she took the tempreature of her crew. The repairs had eaten up nearly all of their reserve. Theoretically they could convert the credits they had made of Fornax into the local currency but in practice the conversion rate tended to vary indirectly with distance from the system of issue. This far from Fornax, the credits would be nearly worthless. Sayeeda sighed.
"Ok Cheng, lay it out for us."
The facts as Cheng related them were simple enough. Nia worked for one of the larger corporations. Two weeks ago she had placed a brief panicked call to her husband claiming someone was following her. It was the last he had heard from her. The next day he had recieved a message claiming she was being taken to the one of the smaller privately secure docking bays.
"Weird that there has been no contact since then," Taya commented when the executive finished.
"If its a ransom then where is the ransom demand?"
"I mean unless its personal somehow?" Junebug mused. Some rival taunting Cheng perhaps.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil tilted his body slightly to the side as the coffee cup flew past him to hit the wall. He didn't blame Cheng for blowing up for a moment. The man had been far too calm earlier. Neil had expected an outburst at some point. Thankfully he calmed immediately however, and they received the details.
"It could just be a routine kidnapping. Pretty women are unfortunately taken sometimes..." Neil said, slipping his hands into his pockets as he voiced that uncomfortable fact. Cheng composed himself well enough, but they could see that he was obviously doing his best to appear cool and collected. "Do you have any enemies we should know about, Mr. Cheng?" Neil asked him, gazing upwards at the man. The executive raised his hands as high as his shoulders in defeat.
"I do have some unsatisfied investors...people who owe me money. Those in the mining business that..." He stopped, blinking as he considered an intrusive thought. "I don't think that these people would do this, but there was a business partner I had to cut ties with recently. Kramer Mining and Productions, one of the burgeoning businesses out here that specialize in mining asteroid minerals, though they sometimes go planet side. I just... they're reputable from what my sources tell me. Seems unlikely it's them."
"Well it's a start," Neil said to Sayeeda, giving Taya a wink. "What about the investors? Any of them on the station?"
"All of them are." He said glumly. "If you go to the eastern wing of the Commons, you'll find a Center for Shareholders. We partner up and, recently my bank has been having problems with who we invest with. Pirates attack cargo ships, and we lose capital. But how would that be my fault?" He seemed utterly helpless at the moment, as if asking some higher power. Neil honestly felt for the man, in general.
"Don't worry sir, we'll figure this out for you as best we can." The Pilot declared, clicking his teeth together. "Where's Kramer located?"
"I...about a million kilometers off station on a smaller satellite station."
"By the way, can we have our money back?"</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Oh..." Cheng looked a little embarrassed at the question.
"Of course, I cannot actually seize your money merely aquire the account and require you to sign some paperwork before you access it," he explained, clearly more comfortable to be in an area where he did apparently have some expertise. Sayeeda, far more comfortable on a battlefield than at a garden party could understand completely. Cheng produced a data pad and passed it to Junebug. She squirted a copy of it to Lonney who declared it to be free from legal trickery and in common usage on the station before digitally signing.
"We will need any information you have on your wife's disappearance," Sayeeda declared once the paperwork was done. Cheng smiled wanly.
"Everything I have is on the disc your pilot stole captain," he said, "If you need anything further, anything at all you have only to call." Nodding her acceptance Sayeeda stood, a little chagrined by the hope on the mans face.
"We will do what we can sir," she said in a professionally neutral tone.
________________________________
"It has to be this Kramer crew," Taya declared. The girl looked a good deal more human now that Junebug had forced her to drink several liters of water and accept a rehydration pack. By the way the girl kept looking at her and blushing and giggling, the aristocrat remembered more of the previous night than Junebug did.
"Why what have you found?" Junebug asked, looking up from her own fruitless attempts to go through Cheng's many investors.
"Nothing," Taya declared. THey were all sitting around the Highlander's consoles, linked into the local data net and with Lonney's sorting power it was the best place on the station to be. Plus the monitors could be set dim enough not to wake Sayeeda's nascent headache. The moment dragged out before Junebug rose to the bait.
"Nothing?" she asked, turning her chair to face Taya. It wasn't a particularly helpful gesture as the girl had her display set to mono directional so that only someone directly infront could read it.
"Nothing," Taya confirmed, "Name and a reistrey number but no client list, no sales pitch, no stock holder reports."
"Could they just be fairly low key?" Sayeeda asked skeptically.
"Maybe but I ran the profile of every other similar company that operates of this station and it flagged abnormal. Even the little mother and cub operations are screaming their virtues from the asteroid top." Leading troops gave you an ability to judge when a people were confident about something, and when a specialist was confident in her specialty area, it paid to listen.
"Sounds like a lead," Junebug said, eager to be up and away from the data crunching that had filled the last several hours.
"One more thing," Taya said and touched a button to turn her display to omni directional. A holo of Nia Cheng flashed into existence, rotating slowly.
"This has been doctored," Taya declared, clearly proud of the deduction.
"Doctored, you mean like altered with image processors?" Junebug asked. That was strange. SHe cast a glance at Neil.
"Any ideas?"</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil's face was firmly shoved in his hand, absently listening to the ladies as they spoke to one another. He hadn't looked at the image, but he didn't know who would doctor the holo of Nia. Cheng obviously wouldn't, because it was in his best interest to find her. So who else would have tampered with the image? And why? Cheng would obviously remember what she looked like, or perhaps the fact it was altered was just to show her in a different state than she was in?
"All I could think of is the Node higher ups and their security forces." Neil said aloud, yawning and placing his hands on the table. "If this Kramer Company had the backing of them, they could doctor the image and ghost out of the system too...which means this is a bit more dangerous and complicated than we thought a kidnapping mission would be." His voice trailed off and he lightly bit his tongue, eyes downcast as he considered.
"Well, we could try hacking into some of the security cameras." Taya offered, her face full of energetic mischief at the thought, drawing a somewhat surprised gaze from the Captain and Pilot. Neil had forgotten she was technical savvy in ways he wasn't, and that she was trouble maker enough to go past her overly controlling father and escape Fornax unscathed. He supposed they had been in so many dangerous situations recently that he mostly thought of her as a frightened young woman, but...
"They would show us what really happened, and if the upper Node is not trustworthy, asking them wouldn't be very unbiased."
"Every second we're not out there looking is also another second she might be further from the system, or closer to being trafficked off into some harem." Neil reminded her.
"Which means we better get to it." She replied quickly.
The pilot turned to the Captain. "Want to split up?" He asked, referring to he and Lonney flying out to check on the Kramer station while the two women checked the cameras. Of course if the Captain thought it was unwise, he wouldn't be mad.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug considered the proposition for a moment turning the problem over in her mind.
"No," she said after a long moment of reflection. According to the reports the shipyard engineers had provided her the Highlander wouldn't be fully space worthy for another few days. In fact, several of them had reacted with a kind of fascinated horror to the fact that the ship had been in hard vacumn, let alone the RIP only a few days ago.
"Taya you are best suited to chasing down the footage and the data streams, and the Highlander shouldn't lift till the repairs are finished." As if summoned by the words the sound of a power tool slicing into metal reverberated through the hull. Neil cast a gaze out the viewport clearly wishing he could be there to oversee the work.
"Cheng gave us an expense account so hit the shops and...." the girls eyes lit up to an unreasonable degree... "Get what equipment you think will be useful. Don't go to crazy because Cheng's geneorisity isn't unlimited despreate though he might be if we bankrupt him it wont do us any favors." Taya nodded her agreement clearly happy to remain behind at the saftey of a console.
"And what will we be doing?" Neil asked skeptically. A slow smile spread across Junebugs face.
_______________________________
"For the record, this is a galaxy class piece of shit," Neil said, repeating the theme of the last few minutes as he looked up at the small mining barge Junebug had chartered after a quick call to Cheng. The thing looked like an ugly tick compared to the Highlander's majestic greyhound as it squatted in the small docking bay. Its panels were covered with rust and coolant stained the paper thing hull plating in a hundred different places. It was basically a twenty meter long metallic box, with the vast bulk of the thing being given over to six massive thrusters arranged in a rectangular bank,and a pair of large gripping pincers. The ship, techincally it was a tug, was designed for the task of accelerating small asteroids along fixed trajectories for recovery. Hundreds like it were at work in the asteroid belt even now.
"Let the record show," Junebug replied as she stepped under the nose of the thing to pull at an unyielding ladder. Painted across the left side of the nose cone, in peeling glory was an improbably busty woman astride an asteroid with the name Hakim's Whore written underneath it in barely legible Imperial. Unwilling to trust the ships atmosphere system Junebug was in her airsuit with her breastplate and helmet fastened awkwardly atop it. Custom fit airsuits might not be a bad thing to spring for after this job was done because even the generic suit she was wearing was tight in places and too loose in others. A mass of equipment was carried in her duffel bag, more than she should realy need, but, she might as well admit it, she had really wished for her gear back on the unnamed jungleworld when things had dropped in the fire.
"There are plenty like her Neil," she explained, and then smiled impishly.
"Besides I'm sure a hotshot pilot can get us aboard this Kramer Station no problems right?"</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda didn't much like funerals. In theory Andor's Armored had always tried to recover the bodies of fallen troopers for proper interment. That wasn't always practical. She had too many memories of manhandling the bodies of fallen comrades over the side of the fighting vehicle during an engagement or coughing as she breathed in the finally dispersed vapor of plasma torn troopers. As the captain of the Highlander however it was proper that she was present as the three soldiers who had died of their wounds were loaded into the airlock and jettisoned into the roiling tide of RIP space.
Aiden, having shed his armor in favor of what she could only assume were the most subdued clothes Neil had ever owned, spoke a few solem words and then dismissed the gathering. Three more of his men were critically wounded but had been saved by virtue of putting them in stasis within their three theoretically functional cryo pods. It was axiomatic that if a soldier could reach advanced medical care he would survive, modern medicine didn't lose too many people who got to a surgery while still breathing. Several other men were due long sessions with the autodoc but would emerge none the worse for wear.
When the formalities were done Almaric's advisor, the grizzled old sergeant, invited them to conference with the Prince. The cockpit was chosen by virtue of being the only large space that could be isolated from the surviving troops. Several of his hangers on tried to join the meeting but the lack of space and a stern glare from the sergeant were enough to dissuade them.
"Firstly I would like to thank you again for saving my life and those of my men," Aiden began with a grateful nod at the Highlander crew. Out of his armor he was a surprisingly impressive man, he clearly spent a good deal of time out door or else worked hard to maintain his physique. That wasn't Sayeeda's usual impression of aristocrats, they tended to let themselves go as far as their egos would permit.
"I would like to offer you a suitable reward as soon as I return to *BLANK*," he went on grandly.
"Well we will be happy to accept your gratitude," Junebug commented drly, having gained the distinct impression she was interrupting a rehearsed speech. Aiden turned his dazzlingly white smile upon her with an engaging nod. She could see why Taya was smitten with him.
"I would also like to discuss chartering this vessel… The Highlander is it? Direct to *Blank*, I will compensate you for your lost cargo but it is impressive I return home immediately," the prince declared with surprising earnestness. The old sergeant was nodding his approval of this course of action.
"Surely you would be more comfortable on a proper passenger vessel…" Sayeeda began to object but Aiden was shaking his head even as she began the objection.
"Comfort is an irrelevance Mistress Cykali…"
"Captain," Junebug corrected.
"Captain Cykali," he finished with an apologetic bow of his head.
"You see the story of how my vessel came to be wrecked on *BLANK* is a complicated one."
"It is treason sire, call a spade a bloody entrenching tool," the old solider grumped earning a slightly pained glance from his principle. Aiden spread his hands and leaned back against the viewport.
"I have something of a reputation as a scholar of the Ancients," Aiden went on, unconsciously his eyes flicked to Neil's tattoo before returning to the group. That showed a surprising degree of observational skill given the crisis they had just come through.
"I was on my way to view the ruins on Hue 326 when I decided to stop and investigate the rumors of uncharted Ancient sites on *BLANK*. We had almost landed when an explosion tore out half our engineering section and the ship crash landed." Sayeeda let out a low whistle and Taya gave her a questioning look.
"According to the charts Hue 326 is another week or week and a half away," she explained.
"If he hadn't come out of the RIP…"
"My ship would have vanished forever and no one but the plotters would know what had become of me," Aiden concluded, his face hardening for the first time into something beyond a jovial aristocrat.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"Or the rest of your crew," Neil completed for him, his nod toward the Sergeant and the Councilmen was sympathetic. The Prince cleared his throat, but nodded in agreement, accepting the criticism. Neil knew the Prince obviously cared about his crew, or at least Neil had that impression. But he still had to voice it and remind the Prince. He wondered what Amalric would think of Neil as a former planetary insurgent and known criminal. Technically rebelling against Fortus law was rebelling against Imperial Law.
Good thing they were very far away from that system.
"What were you to look for on Hue 326?" Taya asked, her interest of the subject plain, though it was obvious the Prince also had something to do with it. For his part, the handsome aristocrat smiled at her question, and she practically melted under his gaze, though he didn't seem to notice.
"Literary sources tell of a planet where the birth of the ancients occurred." He explained. "An Eden of their civilization. It's...there are many planets that are possible candidates. This was one I felt was correct due to the alignment of the systems in one of the old maps I've found, but then again it could have been a barren rock. We'll return after we refuel and resupply, once we get these men home."
"My prince." The councilmen pipped in, and though it was a subservient request for his attention, the elder did have a scolding look about him. "You do know that soon you will ascend to the throne? You need to prepare."
Aiden let out a sigh, nodding. "Yes, Ranald I realize." He acqueised. "We'll see what the future holds, yes? Speaking of which, I would be honored if you and your crew would deign to stick around once we make it to our homeworld. If your business is not too pressing. I would be summarily crucified if my saviors were not shown to my family and some of the public. Perhaps if it was too late in the R.I.P. season, it would be a place to rest?"</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Neil and Sayeeda exhanged glances. She hadn't heard of Dar'monad but logically it had to lay ahead of them or she would have seen it while searching for destinations on previous legs of the journey. The profit margin on the cola they had been hauling had been slight even before they had let a score of shell shocked soldiers trample all over it. They seemed to come to a mutual decision.
"Alright, we can shape course for Dar'monad," Sayeeda agreed with a professional smile.
______________________________________
Neil was taking his watch on the bridge when Aiden unexpectedly clambered up the ladder. For once the noble didn't have any of his entourage with him. It was what passed for the night cycle on the Highlander although Junebug was notoriously ambivalent to things like sleep patterns. There was a quiet hum of electronics lit mostly by the roiling golden fire of this portion of the RIP through the main view screen.
"Ah Mr Edwards," the Prince began his gaze sweeping the cockpit to make sure they were alone.
"I was hoping to have a chance to speak with you privately. A remarkable ship and a strangely assorted crew yet all the Captain will give me are vague monosyllabic responses. You are both former military yes?"</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil had been merely relaxing, his eyes having grown somewhat heavy. Usually he was a late kinda guy, but that last bump on the head really had thrown him for a loop. The young pilot had propped the chair back and had taken the time to recline comfortably when the Prince arrived and stole his attention.
"Ah, Prince Aiden. How goes it?"
The heir smiled, not used to being so informal, though he clearly didn't mind. He continued with his line of questioning, and Neil spun his chair around, considering why he was curious. After a moment, he supposed he didn't care too much. What would be the harm in telling him, anyway. They were heroes.
"Yes. The Captain's been fighting a few years longer than I have, but I've seen my share of professional action." Neil admitted.
"She seems a remarkable woman," Aiden confided, continuing before Neil could have a reaction to that. "Did you serve together?"
"No, I served on my home planet of Fortus. Sayeeda's been all over the place. I couldn't rightly give an accurate number of worlds, but she's fought on more than most people have probably been on." Neil said. "I did most of my travel after being discharged. Now we just get by best we can."
"What is the young girl's name? Taya?" Neil nodded. The Prince gave a small smile as if he had a very amusing thought. "She seems quite intelligent, though a bit out of place on this ship."
"I think we're all in agreement on that, but we like having her. If you want to know more about her, I'm sure she'd love to talk to you about it." Neil chuckled, and he took a sip of the cola he'd had next to him. The Prince idly gazed at the cockpit's inner workings as he continued, eyes following the row of knobs that indicated the thrusters. "You know I've been looking for contractors to perform some work for me. I cannot confide the details at the moment, but needless yo say I'm impressed by the ship. Captain Cykali tells me you're a fine pilot."
"Thank you, your highness."
"By the way..." He asked, casually pipping the question within the conversation. "Where did you get that marking on your hand?"
"My first job aboard the Highlander. One of the locals gave it to me. I decided to keep it. Cool tat, right?"</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Aiden nodded skeptically, clearly unconvinced that the marking was a simple tattoo. The prince had been on many archaeological expeditions, a diallitente rather than a true professional, but he knew the working of ancient technology when he saw it. Never before had he seen it impact a human in such a way though. He sat himself down in one of the chairs and pivoted it slowly back and forth.
"You will excuse me if this sounds indellicate," Aiden continued, clearly a little uncomfortable to speak so informally.
"But is there anything.... you know... going on between you and the good Captain?"
_____________________________________
"Isn't he just the most handsom...ahhhhh!" Taya yelped as Junebug slapped her elbow. The pair of women were in the galley, with the table folded up to make an improvised exercise area. Sayeeda exercised with the discipline with which she approached everything and rarely missed an oppurtunity to train.
"Keep your elbow up," she snapped, "If you want me to teach you, you will pay attention." Junebug's voice was censorious but not angry. Taya adjusted her grip on the plasma rifle and lifted her elbow as instructed. Nodding her approval the mercenary backed off several paces.
"Why am I learning hand to hand if you are training me to shoot?" Taya complained. Junebug darted forward and snatched the barrel of the weapon as Taya began to swing the butt up in a defensive stroke. With a twist of the wrist she broke the younger woman's grip and yanked the weapon away.
"Don't hesitate like that, any move you make is better than no move," she counseled and handed the weapon back to the girl. Taya readjusted her grip.
"But Aiden is handsome right?" she pressed. Sayeeda could only sigh.</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"Why!?" Taya cried in the background, falling to her knees as Neil put on a poised look. "Why do all of our good fortunes go sour!? What God hates us!?" As the pilot mused and spoke, Taya would collapse dramatically and begin crying, before tugging at one of the giant tapestries and hugging it as if it were her mother.
"I don't think it's him." Neil said honestly, even reluctantly. Yes, it did seem a bit too convenient of a scenario, for him to take Sayeeda out on a night of the town, but he couldn't have known Neil would go for a walk, right? He was clearly interested in Sayeeda from the get go, and this would be a bit too obvious of a ploy. The Highlander crew would immediately be suspicious of him. Then again he could have been acting, but Neil didn't quite believe an accomplished thief and a Captain would be that gullible. "There's plenty of siblings, maybe he's in danger? Wouldn't taking him out first simply make the target one of the other siblings? I'd kill a different one if I were some mystery assassin."
Taya looked up, hope in her eyes. Her face was wet and riddled with marks from having pressed her face into the tapestry "You think so?"
Neil shrugged in acknowledgement. "He seems like a cool guy in my book." He said. "I don't think any dude could get on Junebug's good side on lies, anyway."
The pilot fell back onto the cushioned chair, and simply decided that all he felt like doing was getting hammered drunk. "Toss me the vodka," he told Junebug.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug tossed a frosted bottle of vodka to Neil and then stared into space for a minute trying to fit the facts into some sort of coherent picture. It was no use, they simply didn't have enough information. It clearly wasn't Aiden personally, but it could have been done on his orders. What did he have to gain though, he was already the heir by all reports.
"Look this is all platoons in the valley," Sayeeda decided finally.
"It could have been anyone for any reason," she said wearlily.
"For all we know some jilted lover killed her over something purely personal." That didn't exactly explain the attempt on Aiden's life that had stranded him an an Alien infested peninsular.
"So long as no one puts Neil at the scene I don't suppose its any proper concern of ours."
__________________________________
The news broke the next morning as the Highlander crew was rousing themselves from alcohol fueled sleep. Taya had a holo news broadcast playing on the screen. Alexia Almaric found murdered! Images of the woman in life confirmed her to be the sister they had seen when disembarking from the Highlander. Tearful images and comments from the king and queen were played before it degenerated into a series of talking heads speculating on possible motivations for such a killing. They had just finished breakfast when there was a knock on the door.
Junebug took her pistol from her bag and held the weapon behind her back before pulling the great doors open. Ranald the grim faced advisor to Aiden stood there in a dress uniform that he looked distinctly uncomfortable in. A formidable row of metals and campagin ribbons stood out on the white and gold piped tunic. He glanced at her elbow, the veteran clearly aware that she was armed.
"Do you greet all visitors like this Captain?" Sayeeda let the weapon slide into view, a stark contrast to the almost see through silk nightgown she was wearing.
"Only on days I plan on surviving," she answered sweetly and swung the door fully open. Ranald steeped inside and his eyes went immediately to the holo broadcast. Sayeeda pushed the door closed with a click.
"To what do we owe the pleasure?"
Ranald looked distinctly uncomfortable for a moment and then produced a small holographic projector.
"Aiden is a good man and a smart one in his own way, but I fear he has many enemies here that he is reluctant to see." With that he thumbed on the holoprojector. An image of Alexia sprang to life atop the projector head.
"Aiden, I know you are busy with preperations for this ceremony of yours, but I have vital information about the wreck of your ship. Listen I'm not sure who exactly to trust, you need to meet me as soon as you can. Tonight if you can make it happen. This is important big brother." The holograph cut out.
"This came in while the prince was... entertaining you Captain," the old veteran said, his voice holding a hint of disapproval
.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil jolted awake. "It wasn't me!"
Blinking lazily, he realized he was in his extravagant bedroom. The pilot rubbed his face and blearily wondered if this room would be a temporary affair, or if his commendation in a few days would grant him a lifetime suite and a vassalage. That would have sounded extremely appealing until recently. Hell, it still was appealing. But his mood had somewhat soured since they'd arrived. Then again, he didn't feel as bad he did yesterday. Other than the slight hangover.
"They make it strong on this planet." He groaned as he swung his feet off the bed, scratching an itch under his eye. First thing was first, he went to take a quick shower. As the hot water hit him, he felt all the physical and mental muck drain out of him, and he let out a large 'whoo!' before he stepped out, drying himself and his thick head of dark hair.
He slipped on some comfortable street clothing and headed into the great hall only to step into the middle of Ranald and Junebug watching the clip of the slain royal Neil had discovered.
If that video had come in during his absence, it couldn't have been the Prince. He wouldn't have known who to go after. Neil nodded. It had top be someone they hadn't the pleasure of meeting yet. He was certain they would soon.
"I'm flattered you decided to divulge this footage, but why to me?" Junebug asked.
"Because he's quite fond of you, and I feel if you spend more...time with him, you could be in danger as well as he. Not that it would stop you. I know a soldier when I see one. But you and your crew saved his and my life. I feel I am paying a debt." He informed her, giving a respectable pose as regal as any King could.
"We appreciate the thought." Neil said, causing both of them to look his way. They'd see Neil leaning casually against a pillar, not a few meters away and behind them. The rogue was scratching his chin, a small 5 o'clock shadow having formed since they'd gone off schedule. He hadn't shaved the past few days. "Have any leads yet?"
Ranald shook his head. "Not yet. Granted, the heirs to the throne are given shares of estates according to their age, so it could just be a sibling rivalry. But the planet is famous for its power struggles. Thank the Gods Aiden will be king. He's the only one of them with a decent head on his shoulders." the elderly councilman declared. "Insurgents or a senator is the next guess. We have problems with both."
"Where is the Prince? Aiden?" Neil asked.
"He said he is not to be disturbed. But for you...I am certain he would make an exception. He's in his quarters."
"Thank you for the warning, and your time."
Ranald made his way out shortly after, giving them a bow. Neil waved him goodbye, then shut the veritable gate behind him. He let out a sigh. "So, what do you think?" Neil asked, before giving his opinion. He felt like he should give a talk to the prince at some point, but he'd follow his Captain's leave.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"I think we should head back to the Highlander and head for space," Taya put in from the bed. Junebug was shaking her head even before she finished speaking.
"No, it would look suspicious, it would be a golden opportunity for whoever is behind this to pin everything on us." Sayeeda didn't know what the reach of the Planetary Nobility was but she would rather not spend the next several years dodging bounty hunters and assassins at best and tedious legal proceedings at worst.
"It seems to me," Sayeeda said carefully, "that we should go and see Aiden. Seeing as we are stuck here until the ceremony tomorrow night, we ought to see what we can do to keep our patron alive."
"Alexia clearly had something important she wanted to talk to Aiden about," Taya interjected.
"Important enough to kill her over?"</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"Oh," the Prince said in surprise. "Please come in."
The guards pushed closed the gates behind them with a grinding clap. It needed at least four men to open and close such a magnificent gateway. One would need a starship cannon to be able to penetrate its thick metallic plating, though of course it was embroidered with exquisite artwork with curvaceous images of tales long past. Aiden kissed Junebug's hand, and greeted the other two.
Inside, Aiden's hall was even more elaborately decorated than their were. Large statues of heroes took the role of pillars, holding the ceiling up with, as if with the strength of their legends. Shining clear diamonds were embedded along their necks; items Neil could live forever off of if he would but get his hands on one or two of them. The seats and table was lavish and comfortable all at once, and there were three great hearths compared to their hall's one. Behind Aiden, servitor drones floated back and forth, cleaning and furnishing the place.
"Are you ok, my prince?" Taya asked him once they had walked in, clearly not knowing how to comfort him, or if he would even appreciate such a gesture.
"Yes, considering." Aiden said, letting out a breath. He wore a handsome top covered by a cloak that gave him a rakish quality. "I feel worse about my parents, and how this could be my fault." The Prince lamented. Neil gave him an understanding look. He knew what it was like to feel as if you were responsible for the death of a loved one. The pilot glanced at the ceiling for a moment, marvelling at the intricate carving of the artistic curves.
"Have you scanned the ceiling, your highness?"
"What?"
"If someone's after you, they might have a bug or a camera up there."
It took Aiden a moment to process his words, and when he did he ordered one of his servitor drones to fly upwards and scan. It found nothing, but the prince had to ask. "Why would you believe there would be something up there?"
"Because that's what I would do."</s>
|
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Aiden sighed and let them to a grand sitting room, the place looked rustic with comfortably upholstered chairs of dark carved wood and tables inlaid with the same mythological scenes they had observed elsewhere, graceful naked water nymphs forming the legs, holding the hands of broad shouldered Atlas whos outstretched arms provided the crosswise pieces. For all its archaic splendor however it was thoroughly modern in function. A careful eye could pick out access points for various electronic devices and other contemporary features. The prince sat down and gestured for Sayeeda to sit beside him before motioning all the others down.
"I fear I may have been too quick to dismiss Ranald's counsel," he said at last. His hands rested palm down on the table as though trying to press through the heavy timber.
"Do your intelligence people have any leads?" Sayeeda asked. Aiden smiled wrly.
"We don't have a centralized intelligence service the way you are thinking." Sayeeda snorted in disbelief.
"What did you blow the whole budget on fancy statues?" Aiden chuckled, the expression reaching his eyes for the first time.
"Something like that," he admitted before explaining: "Actually most of our intelligence is gathered through personal networks of various nobles, theoretically we are supposed to share what we find, and thats fine for offworld matters where we all have the same interests but…"
The doors opened unexpectedly and two men, brothers who had been at the landing ceremony strode through the doors flanked by armed guards.
"Alexander, Aire," Aiden greeted them in surprise. Both men were rangy and strong although neither was as handsome as the Prince himself.
"Brother," Alexander, the taller of the two and dressed in a shiny black doublet greeted. His eyes panned to the Highlander crew.
"What are these mercenaries doing here, is this the space tramp…" the man's tone was a sneer but Aiden stood up abruptly, his face hardening into a mask.
"These are my friends, and perhaps soon my retainers, have a care brother," Aiden responded his tone chilling markedly. Alexander stepped back slightly and cocked his hip sideways. Junebug recognised it as a move to clear a weapon and her hand, concealed beneath the table, slid to the pistol holstered at her hip. Instead of a gun though Alexander revealed a metallic cylinder similar to the one she had seen Aiden with back on the beach.
"Oh be serious," Aiden snapped, "father will never approve a duel between us. Now did you have something of actual import to say or is this just a 'courtesy' call?"</s>
|
<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The Highlander descended towards Dioni III in a gentle dive. Bracchus Prime was gradually eclipsed as the moon swelled to fill the viewport. The plot position board was alive with reports, dozen if not hundreds of craft were lifting and landing at any one moment, each one captured and plotted by the Highlander's sensors. The glut of electronic information only became intelligible when Sayeeda had Lonney filter for likely threats based on power to weight ratios. Even so a dozen ships ranked as threats capable of engaging the Highlander and one group of a half dozen fighter sized vessel ranked as a possible if operating as a unit. More interestingly the sensor data registered a heavy ship, cruiser size or larger, partially concealed in the icy rings of Bracchus Seccundus, a large and otherwise uninspiring gas giant several light minutes out. Only the Terran's and a few other of the major regional powers built such warships and its presence, if the sensor read was accurate, was concerning but not immediately worrying.
The communications board was lit up too and Taya typed in a continual stream. Several docking options appeared in a sidebar of Junebug's console, conveniently tagged with estimated cost and services provided. Junebug quickly eliminated those which were unbelieveabley cheap and unreasonably expensive. The Highander was in fighting trim after its refit on Dar'mond so she swiped away those options which had extensive repair facilities. From the remaining list, still more than a dozen, she selected the third least expensive. Despite the presence of a fortune in rare minerals, they were cash poor. The repairs on Beckett's node, seemingly a life time ago had been expensive. Similarly the cola shipment that they had jetisoned in favor of saving Aiden and his men was a loss. They were low on food and ammunition and had only a few thousand credits in various forms of exchange to batter with. Well she supposed she and Taya coud sell their dresses for something but they were still going to need to make this happen quickly.
The Highlander rocked slightly as it entered the atmosphere, friction heat making the forward shield glow momentarily before they punched into the air below. The moon was in a geostationary orbit and their destination was on the side facing the primary. The only illumination it received was reflected from the Prime. The sea of light below them blazed in defiance of the natural darkness. The entire moon was covered with construction, vast canyons existed between levels, the result of happenstance rather than good planning. Air cars, many of them older than Sayeeda herself, buzzed up and down. Casinos, lit up in neon, or topped with holoprojectors battled for attention with a constant barrage of noise and light. The lower levels contained bars, shops, repair facilities and, presumably, homes.
"Looks like a fun place," Sayeeda commented to no one in particular. Although her voice was noncommittal she was more serious than not. After the glitz and media attention on Dar'mond she was rather looking forward to some anonymity. Part of her was concerned that they were only three days from Dar'mond and that it was such an obvious destination for them to choose. The jump had been hard across a RIP current though and if Lonney was correct a major current shift should take place in the next twelve to forty eight hours. Current changes within the RIP could alter navigational time tables by weeks or months. Unless the Dar'mond authorities were especially quick to launch their pursuit, they would find their quarry long gone by the time they reached the Smuggler's Den.
The Highlander jinked suddenly. There was no feeling of motion with the grav pumps running but the shifting viewscreen and the sudden whine of the compensators gave it away. Junebug looked up at Neil who was settling them back onto course for one of the artificial canyons. His sudden swerve had been to evade a string of air bikes which had boiled up unexpectedly from a building. She doubted that any of them could have dented the shielding, but she would rather not rack up a body count before she even touched the ground.
"I guess areospace control is sort of crowd sourced," she commented mildly, eliciting a snort from Neil.
A few minutes later the Highlander set down in a broad concrete floored hangar. Three other ships, also small freighters shared the bay, though none of them were in nearly as good condition as the Highlander. One of them, a battered Xylar had holes in its hull patched with plastic sheeting and rivets. It must have been temperature stable enough to survive re entry but it must have leaked air at a prodigious rate. More likely than no the hold itself was open to vacuum and only the cockpit and engineering sections were pressurised when it was beyond and atmosphere. A good way to get yourself killed in anyone's book. Stevedores moved between the ships and low slung cargo sleds, shifting boxes that might be anything from innocuous food stuffs to highly illegal nerve toxins.
Sayeeda walked down the ramp before the hydraulic extenders touched it to the ground. She was wearing her ceramic chest plate atop a tan PT shirt and a set of combat pants tucked into dark tan combat boots. A submachine gun hung from an attachment point on her chest, her helmet clipped to her belt on the right side. In contrast to her previous policy she hadn't opted to cut her hair, letting it hang halfway to her shoulders. The interior of the docking bay smelled of plasma burns and ancient lubricant as well as the sharp tang of ozone from a recent weld. In places oils dripped from leaky hoses, running in sluggish streams to a central drain of rusted metal.
"Well, at least it isn't a crash landing in a river," she remarked to Neil as he clambered down the ramp. A grease stained man in filthy coveralls was striding across the floor towards them, avoiding the streams of oil with casual familiarity. He waved and smiled cheerfully, though Sayeeda didn't doubt he had cracked a head or two with the heavy hydraulic spanner that hung from his utility belt. The man was completely bald, his shining pate spotted with patches of dark melanin that he certainly hadn't picked up on this moon. She held up a mesh bag containing the agreed upon amount of credit chips. The fellows grin broadened, teeth surprisingly white against his grimy skin.
"Ok, it is your show," she told Neil, gazing around at the freighters with interest. Being in a place like this was why she had poured her life savings into the Highlander. Excitement and adventure were a drug, one you kept taking regardless of how likely it was to get you killed.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The Promenade turned out to be far less prestigious than the name let on. Rust and dried blood coated the once pristine structures that crowded around the walkways and courtyards of the province. Bright lights and gaudy signs that promised low prices, fine drinks, or your dreams coming true were a distraction from the decaying urban landscape and the literal tons of pollution that undulated into the perpetual night sky. Province 8 was one of the many criminal 'verticle cities' that dotted Dioni III, but it was one of the most notoriously unscrupulous on the planet.
"Ah, home sweet home," Neil mused, though there was a hint of irony in his voice that was inescapable to a keen ear. He did seem to trail along and glance about roguishly as if he could predict where every business deal and thief hid in the vast maze of crowds and alleyways. Smaller structures made of plasteel or scrounged metal were made in certain areas, where less reputable but small time merchants tried to sell their wares. As they passed by an establishment of pleasures, a powerful thug that leaned upon a railing with his elbows eyed Sayeeda and Taya, and grinned. The grin did not stop, his mouth curling impossibly wide to the edges of his cheeks.
"You've been here before?" Taya asked, spooked beyond reckoning. She kept her hands at her sides and pockets, hoping to feel if any pickpocket that thought to try his luck on the young girl. Junebug kept her weapon at the ready and her eyes peeled, following Neil who walked far more casually. Though a trained glance showed he'd taken precautions, his gun within easy reach and the flack jacket under his shirt was strapped tightly to his torso.
"No, but a lot of places like it." He said. "Always wanted to come here, though. Seems like the next step on my list until I joined the Highlander."
A moss-green Xenos the size of a hauler trumped by them, a breathing sack under its neck enlarging every so often. The feelers on its stumpy hands looked as if they would stick upon contact. Even Neil had never seen such a creature before. If he was more of a biologist than a mechanical engineer, he would have been curious on how such a species not only evolved but grew sentience.
They turned the corner and found themselves in another courtyard, a bit larger than the previous ones they had stalked through, with a fountain in the center that only trickled water. Neil had to guess the water was somewhat clean, for a lot of bedraggled and down-on-their-luck people seemed to have made shop and small homes in the area. Though mostly it was smaller businesses and loneshark deals. Neil was going to head to the center and ask around before he spotted someone he knew. They spotted him first, however.
A tall man approached, his cloak brown and stained. He had a long blonde, braided beard that reached down to his chest, and hair to nearly match it. The man was somewhat aged, but younger than Ranald, with a strong nose and blue eyes. Neil saw him approaching, and he grinned, his arms out wide. "Sven! What in the universe are you doing here?" He said, obviously trying to draw attention to himself, probably for various reasons.
"Thought you were dead," Sven said, his voice deathly calm and with an intimidating amount of cunning. He didn't seem to be a comrade of Neil's, but the younger man didn't seem too wary around him. Obviously they had worked together in the past. Neil spoke next. "Well that's what you were supposed to think, so I guess it worked out. How have you been? Business good?"
"Who are they?" Sven asked, his cold, calculating eyes switching to Sayeeda and Taya. Small structured lights flared within his left eye, as if it was a miniature computer terminal. Neil patted him on the shoulder, trying to ignore the question. "Come on now, I have something to sel-" The pilot was gripped by the collar roughly, Sven's face inches from his own. "If business was good, do you believe I would be here?" He asked. "No games."</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda kept her eyes open as they moved through the city. The place was filthy beyond easy description. Trash of all description littered the street. Bars and other establishments kept the front of their premises clear, if not clean, by paying the homeless to remove the trash. Where it went from there was a mystery, but Sayeeda was willing to bet that at even more dilapidated levels of the city, rats, or whatever the local pests were, roasted above fires of burning trash.
Grafitti was almost as omnipresent as trash. Sayeeda counted half a dozen gang signs which she saw mirrored in more precise renditions on the flesh of the numerous toughs and thugs which lurked in front of the seedier bars and eateries. She wished that they had left Taya with the ship, not just because the girl was clearly overwhelmed but because she attracted attention with her neat features and stylish blonde hair. Attention that fell on Junebug quickly slid aside as they took in the pistol and the submachine gun. Part of her wished she had bought a rifle also, but there was no percentage in carrying a heavy weapon where sight lines were likely to be so short. Even if it all dropped in the pot, shots of over fifty meters would be exceedingly rare in this warren.
Sayeeda didn't like cities. She had grown up in a city on clean well administered *BLANK* but her childhood fondness had been quickly replaced after she went off to war. Andor had only taken contracts that required city fighting with extreme reluctance. The strength of armored regiments lay in mobillity, moving quickly to surprise the enemy and disrupt his operations. In a city every apartment block was a potential ambush site and every street funneled men and vehicles into predictable firing lanes. Even leveling a city with artillery or direct fire didn't help, as the rubble remaining was even better for snipers and irregulars than buildings were. They had occasionally had to do it, but it had been mainly close action work for infantry and losses had been exorbitantly high.
The air was a faintly acrid fug. Ejecta of various sorts rained down from above, although it was aresolized by the time it reached this level. The smell mixed with stale beer, decaying trash and the unpleasantly oily smell of cooking meat. It wasn't a pretty place. Still by the look of some of the denizens, hard men in cheap suits they imagined were fashionable and carrying large obvious side arms, there was money to be made here. It would be the ideal place for a criminal to hide out, strangers were obvious avoiding them was as simple as moving to a different level.
The arrival of Sven took her by surprise. It seemed unlikely that anyone who knew Neil would be here, but then again they were looking for one of Neils contacts and webs of association worked both ways. The fellow's beard and bearing were certainly impressive, used to violence certainly but probably not a military background Junebug decided. SHe glanced around, noting a few of the armed locals watching with some interest as the fellow approached Neil, exchanged a few words and then suddenly grabbed Neil and lifted him into the air.
"Whoa, easy boys," she said in a flat tone. Sven glanced at her with a look of anger and flinched slightly. The submachine gun was still hanging from the attachment point on her chest armor, but the pressure of two fingers on the butt lifted the barrel so that, quite by apparent accident, it pointed at Sven's knee cap. Her fingers weren't in the trigger guard, but they drummed a slow beat against the ceramic chest armor beside it, in subtle warning.
"I won't claim I don't understand the impulse, but I don't want to walk out of here right?"</s>
|
<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug didn't lower the semi-surreptitiously aimed weapon until the conversation ended. Her face blank and unmoving as an insect. She didn't judge Sven likely to shoot them in the back, but then there was no point in making more risky assumptions than you had to. Her life had enough chances in it already.
They found the Red Dwarf only after asking a few of the itinerant spacers for directions. Even then the directions were cursory and filled with nervous glances and quick departures. The bar was located in a slightly more upscale area. A vast holoprojection of a Red Dwarf star, ten meters across blazed in the entryway. Every thirty seconds the holo star went nova, scattering coherent light which congealed into the name Red Dwarf and then collapsed back into its burning protoplasmic namesake. It was a neat effect. Patrons lounged at outdoor tables in front of the place, almost all of them were armed and many bearing crimson start mark, either in tatoo or painted onto armor.
"Nice place," Sayeeda said in a deliberately neutral tone, noting the bullet holes that picked the facade of black marble. The impacts were heavy calibre, vehicle mounted almost certainly. Neil glanced back over his shoulder at her with a slightly guilty expression on his face.
"Yeah well, nice people aren't buying what we are selling," he said with a weak smile.
The bouncers, both human and covered from head to toe with gang tattoos, didn't give them any more trouble than an unfriendly grunt. They were carrying short shot guns and riot batons, both of which would end a fight very, very quickly. They did spare a look for Junebug's weapons and armor but it was more skeptical than afraid.
The interior of the place thumped with synthesized music, it was almost loud enough to be painful. The bar was being operated by a trio of completely naked human women and one alien, also naked, that might have been either male, female or a combination of the two. Large clear tanks sectioned off areas of the place. They were filled with a shimmering slightly bluish liquid in which swam strange creatures, somewhere between birds and fish, they seemed to be almost gem like in their sparkling magnificence.
Men and women gyrated together on a central dancefloor enfolded by table that rose by gentle increments to allow every present to see the action, the fluid in the tanks ran down the incline in slow cataracts, more like petroleum than water. Sayeeda decided it might be liquid helium, though she had never heard of anything living in the stuff as these fish creatures clearly did. There was a large fenced off area to the rear where a knot of muscle, more heavily armed than the rest, controlled a broad ramp which lead up to private viewing boxes with black one way glass.
Junebug slid her helmet down over her head, the built in noise cancellation gear immediately muting the tumult to a dull roar. She flipped the faceshield up, knowing from experience that people found the dull reflective surface to be far more intimidating than a bare face.
"Alright," she said, "lets find ourselves a Formian."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Good, Neil thought. A faceless and intimidating Sayeeda would give far more credence to their request for an audience, and the audience in general. The problem was Taya. Neil didn't look overly intimidating, but he had a look that showed he was used to this sort of underhanded operation by the way he carried himself. As they walked through the crowd, there was a myriad of Crimson Stars mingling with mere bar patrons.
With a subtle movement, Neil slipped an idle cloak off a table and rolled it up to give as little visibility to the fact he had it as possible. Once they made it across the dance floor, he unrolled it and reoriented the cloak. "Taya, come here." He said. The girl looked a tad confused, but did as she was bade. Neil placed the wrapping around her head, tying it from the back despite her protests. Neil ignored her, turning her toward him and holding up a finger. "Its best they don't see your face," he half lied. "Now, don't speak or make any noises, not even a squeal. Understand?"
"Its hot," she protested, pulling the lower part of the wrapping off her mouth slightly. Neil let her take in some air, and then pulled it back up. "I know. You can loosen it slightly, but keep it tight around your chin. We won't be in there long. Ok?"
She nodded, and he gave her a wink.
Once they were situation, the three made it to the entryway, where a large Margrond Xenos stood. It was a human-like beast that had four muscled arms, an overwhelming slab of stomach, and a face Neil could only describe as 'ugly as sin.' He barred their passage, along with a small squad of muscled and armed goons, automatic lasrifles held at the ready. Neil held his hands up in greeting. "No need for that, we're simply here to see Gnorlaac."
The proclamation caused them to turn off the safeties on their weapons in unison. "Whoa whoa, hold on now," He began, trying to defuse the situation. He looked around, and then leaned forward. "Tu Wada Klecto...we good now?" There was a short silence as the men looked to one another, and the Margrond raised an arm and spoke an indecipherable language into the comm on his wrist. Above them, a light Neil had not noticed before turned green, and the Xenos stepped aside to allow them passage into the back rooms.
The music went from an oppressive noise to a backdrop as they walked down the entryway, two guards flanking them with weapons poised to go off at any sudden movement by the three. Neil knew Sayeeda was good, so he turned to glance Taya's way and check on her, however her expression was hidden from view by the cloak. That was a small victory at least. Red lights that gave the entryway a darkly lit vibe increased the shadows around them in a strange fashion. The more traditional lights of the other room, still blue and green in color, lit up the area far more nicely.
The next room they found themselves in, Neil could only really call it a throne room. It was a smaller party, with hired muscle and dancer girls mingling with one another, along with prominent Xenos and businessmen wearing expensive and near Dar'mondian level of lavish clothing and jewerly. Some of them looked to be enacting business deals while others simply lounged, enjoying their status as one of the select few to be invited inside Gnorlaac's private party. At the center of the back wall sat Gnorlaac. An enormous blue Formian, with an impressive second chin covered in either fur or hair. His torso was bare, and his lower half was covered in expensive cloth to make some patched together trousers. His six fingered hands were covered in jeweled rings, and his large maw had more than a few golden teeth within his jowls. In Neils opinion, he had the look of a 'nice guy' on the galactic net that hit it big somehow.
All eyes turned to them as they entered, the unknown three causing a small stir within the room. Neil crossed his arms, trying to remain as confident as possible despite all the attention. The music stopped, and the Formian raised a hand, waving them to come in closer. "Ekta chuka me colo so na me," he said, his voice veritably booming across the expanse of the room. Flanking him were two Hexanagallion guards, clad in Xarconian plate armor, their faces and snouts concealed.
A small droid floated up between them as Neil and the others moved forward, translating. "So, I heard you have something I would be interested in? Do tell." The voice was automatic and rigid.
"That is correct," Neil said, a big smile on his face. "And let me say that this is a lovely establishment. Do you rent or own? Nevermind. Yes we uh...we have something I think anyone in the Galaxy would kill for. But since we were in the neighborhood, we heard of your fair deals and wanted to see if you'd be interested."
"Do not test my patience, boy. Out with it." The Droid said after the Formian gave a few grunts.
"Hold on, big fella. Discussing business when 10 pounds of Aestimobium is at stake is a process to be appreciated." The Formian's eyes widened, and there were various gasps within the crowd. Neil simply smirked, as if he had everyone in the palm of his hand. Then again, he did that often anyway. "You see," Neil continued loudly, drawing all of their gazes to him. "By my recknoning, such a prize would be...psssht, I don't know. 40 million credits? More? Well, me and my crew," He gestured at the two figures behind him. "We have no real use for it other than money, and would like it gone no questions asked. So we are willing to part with it for, say, 25 million. That's a generous offer, my friend. Also, it pays to be on a crime lord's good side, am I right?"</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
A hush settled across the crowd as the import of Neil's words began to register on the crowd. Junebug could feel the shappening of the gazes as a room full of hungry predators turned their attention to the crew of the Highlander. She grinned beneath the reflective mirror of her face shield. It wasn't an expression that had anything human in it, it had more in common with an animal baring her teeth.
The Formian smacked his jowls together in an odd wet sound. It was only after nervous titters of laughter began to spread that Junebug realised it was laughter. The droid zipped closer, an articulated lens zooming in on Neils face with a series of whirring clicks. It drifted to Sayeeda and repeated the motion before moving on to Taya.
"Kul trana suc xhua, prada carak sul nor," Gnorlaac rumbled.
"If you are lying to me boy, we will feed your bones to the gnawers," the droid translated in its static mechanical voice. Sayeeda winced at the impudent expression that stole across her pilots face.
"We got the goods, you can bet your ass," Neil quipped. Gnorlaac began to laugh again although this time there was a harder nastier edge to it. The music swelled up again as the Formian turned away, evidently done with the face to face portion of this interview. Sayeeda relaxed slightly, shifting out of her stance of imminent violence. A black skinned human woman, her head shaved smooth and tattooed with dozen of unrecognisable designs approached.
"I am Yrla, I am Gnorlaac's right hand," she said, her voice assured but not disrespectful.
"You will tell me where your ship is and we will arrange for an assayer to confirm what you claim. I warn you if this is some game, it won't end well for you."</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil regarded the woman for a moment. At first he thought she reminded him of Sayeeda, her hair short and her body lithe but fit, and a dangerous quality about her. But on second glance, he realized that was not the case. There was a competence, but a lack of command or confidence. She must had been bought as a slave and had served Gnorlaac well, or she had risen through the rank for gathering intel, etc. Either way, he would be respectful. Dangerous or not, she seemed to be his eyes and ears at the moment.
"The D-15 Landing pad near sector 8." Neil replied, giving the ships HLNDR designation number. He had the slightest notion that Taya had tensed up when he gave the information, but one had to look for it to notice. It seemed like no one did, thankfully. As the woman placed the information in her datapad, Neil spoke up. "Will you accompany us or will one of your agents?" Behind Yrla, a door whisked open to reveal two heavily clad warriors. Their races unknown, though they seemed man sized, encased in full Dyrelian battle-armor, leaving even their faces covered in las and bullet resistant armor.
"Both," she replied curtly. Her datapad 'pinged' aloud, and she holstered it onto her utility belt as she motioned for Neil to lead the way back to the ship. The guard's guns were not pointed at them, but they were slung within their hands much like Neil and Sayeeda's guns had been when they had dealt with Sven.
Through the rusted streets, the blood and excrement on the walls giving off a very pervasive sense of mild disgust, Neil strode ahead confidently and never did look back. He had his hand close to his revolver if he heard even the slightest thing amiss, but all was quiet save the calls of the low-life merchants and the growls of various Xenos that prowled. Once they entered the landing pad, Neil told Taya to open up the ship. She didn't make a noise, and simply pushed a button within her clothes that activated the bay doors.
"Wait here, would you?" Neil asked them. All of them, and he went up to retrieve the most valuable mineral in the galaxy.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda gestured Taya back into the ship, the girl was quick to take advantage of the chance to get out of the potentially dangerous situation, all but running up the ramp. She might tell herself that she would be more useful inside the ship and maybe that was true, but truthfully Junebug just wanted her out of the way. There were a million ways this exchange could go wrong and shooting the Highlanders crew to save the forty million was both the most likely and the most difficult to avoid.
The aliens in the armor snorted and yipped at each other their communication undecipherable to human ears. Junebug watched them with studied boredom her plasma rifle cradled casually but within only a few degrees of the armored killers. In the ancient struggle between weapons and armor, weapons were currently in the lead. Nothing a man could carry would do much to stop a plasma bolt. Even ablative armor would transmit a bone shattering shock as the superheated plasma detonated on its surface. Powered armor was more effective and could be plated heavily enough to withstand the shock, but it sacrificed movement. Mechs and the like were more akin to light vehicles than armored infantry. Sayeeda figured if this went south she could take at least one and probably both of the alien gunmen down but it didn't mean she was eager to try conclusions. One of the creatures, sensing her regard made a crude leer running a purplish tongue over its fangs. Sayeeda winked without allowing her face to lose its bored expression, gannering another burst of garbled alien chittering.
Further by play was interrupted by Neil returned carrying the small chest in which the *BLANK* was stored. The guards and the young woman who was apparently going to perform the assay quited in anticipation. The pilot set the case down on the grease stained floor and flicked both the latches open with a theatrical flourish.
"Behold!" he cried, throwing the lid open and posing dramatically. The soft glow of the *BLAN* pulsed from within the chest, illuminating falling dust motes in its pure light. Neil looked a little crestfallen.
"No one appreciates a show," he muttered. Sayeeda noticed that his revolver was tucked into his belt, within easy reach for a quick draw. Apparently she wasn't the only one concerned about the number of ways things might go wrong. The woman, Junebug never got her name, pulled a bulky but portable scanner from a bag and ran it over the *BLANK*. For an endless minute the machine beeped and whired before the aide, or whatever she was, finally tucked the scanner away.
"It appears to be genunine," she said, her voice a little to netural to be believable.
"Where did you say you got it from?" she asked. Junebug rolled her eyes.
"We stole it from the Pirate King and he is going to sail his fleet of dreadnoughts in here and wreak horrible vengeance on whoever holds the cursed treasure. Anyone who toucheth it wilt surely perish excetera and if this is the part where you try to talk us down from our price because its soooo dangerous, then you can just be on your way and we will find another buyer," Junebug sneered. The aliens stiffened, gripping their weapons. Junebug negligently lifted her rifle to point at the closes gunmen though her face still appeared bored rather than threatening. The aides face was dark with an unpleasant emotion.
"Very well, we will pay your asked price, but you should know that…"
"Yeah yeah, no one disrespects the boss, we get it," Junebug finished, lowering her rifle as the aliens took their own hands away from their weapons.
"Take the goods," the aide told the aliens.
"No," Junebug and Neil spoke simultaneously, paued to look at each other and then turned back to their guests.
"I know we are all friends and everything, you know you being infamous gangsters and we being some randoms who never made port here till yesterday, but just for the hell of it, lets assume we want to see the money before we hand over the goods."
"You are a very irritating woman Captain Cyckali," the aide said, clenching and unclenching her fists. Junebug smiled toothily.
"And just to be sure no one gets any weird notions, lets do the hand off somewhere neutral, one of those casinos should do fine."
"The Golden Nebula," Taya's voice sounded in her mastoid implant. The girl was good, listeninging into the conversation and doing her own research as she went.
"THe Golden Nebula, lets say three hours from now?" Junebug went on as though she had come up with the name.
"That is hardly enough time to get the money toge…" the Aid protested.
"Well then I guess we will have to take our bussiness elsewhere after…" the aide through up her hands in disgust.
"FINE!" she snapped and whirled on her heel, practically storming out of the building flunkies in tow. Junebug grinned, Neil gave her his 'what the fuck was that' expression as he pulled his revolver from his belt. She shrugged a little sheepishly.
"Sorry, it has been days since I shot anything, guess I'm a little tense."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The Pilot laughed. "Don't worry, with our luck I'm sure we'll shoot something real soon." he said with a wink, snapping up the trunk and lifting up the near-priceless object. He shook his head as he relayed the scene that had just played out. "Acting like we'd just give them the stone. They idiots?"
"I think they think we're the idiots." Sayeeda said, hands on her hips.
"How could we be idiots? We have some fucking Aestimobium."
"And how did we get it?" She asked Neil, raising an eyebrow.
He sighed. "...By being idiots." Sayeeda smirked. Taya's voice rang over the comms. "If you two are done, let's get in here and discuss what exactly we plan on doing." The hanger was still empty, but Neil realized it was probably for the best they talked further inside. A devil in the back of Neil's head made him say. "Yeah, before the Captain shoots somebody." He felt a woosh of air behind the nape of his neck right as he leaped forward, and he ran into the Highlander with Sayeeda right on his heels until Neil spun and held the Aestimobium in front of himself. Sayeeda hid a smile, and just pointed at him.
He placed the mineral down on the table after she sat down, and he sat down too, thinking he was safe. The boot that stomped on his foot relieved him of such notions, but they were both laughing after Neil cursed. In a moment however, Sayeeda went back to business and began. "So..." she said, her tone brooking no room for anything else but making a plan worth executing. "we go to the Golden Nebula. Did either of you see any good places for guns to hide in the Cantina?"
"I could barely see anything." Taya said, the cloak that had been wrapped around her head now snug on her shoulders once more.
"There's probably plenty of places to the left when you enter, where the crowds and dancers are." Neil pointed out. "But on the right, the sit down bar and tables are probably where we'll do the transaction. We can't exactly flank or hide either, they've seen both of our faces and Taya isn't the best gun, no offense."
Taya's face gave a clear 'none taken, seriously' as if she wanted to be as far away from any gun as possible.
"Then we'll just need to sit in the corner near the door, and wait. Or if they already have a table for us, we don't sit next to each other." She said to Neil, and he nodded. They needed eyes everywhere. "Taya, give us your cloak." The girl blinked, but did as she was told, and Sayeeda wrapped it around the Aestimobium container.
Neil spoke up next. "They'll never guess we have a container now."
Needless to say, he had to dodge Sayeeda again.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The Golden Nebula was not what Sayeeda had imagined from a dingy crime world, though perhaps it should have been. Neoclassical dance music thrummed like a thunderstorm as they stepped through the security checkpoint and into the interior. Just as Taya had said the establishment employed sophisticated biometric scanners, though the expensive units were almost completely recessed into large palatial columns. The security was well armed and obvious but also clean enough to hint at respectability. Also, just as Taya had said, neither the Aestimobium nor the pair of pistols concealed beneath it triggered the sensors. One of the metals many properties was the release of energy in the form of radiation. The radiation was poorly understood but seemed to have no harmful effects on humans. Apparently it was also enough to smother the electronic signatures of the hardware. Sayeeda kept her face pleasant but she really wished they could have bought more hardware. In theory the weapon restrictions applied to their 'business partners' too, but Junebug was to familiar with breaking rules to put much stock in that slender protection.
"I still say we should have pulled a last minute move, somewhere I could have covered with a rifle," the mercenary griped. She was dressed in a skin tight body suit of dark gray, almost black synthetic polymer. It was the sort of thing that a jet bike rider might wear and was judged by Taya to be not too far out of the ordinary for the Nebula. The plus was that it let her wear combat boots, those these were new, black and buffed to a high sheen rather than her worn tan favorites. A band of black enameled metal encirled her brow, keeping her now almost shoulder length hair out of her face. She really needed to find time to get it cut, or at least buzz it so that her helmet would fit properly again.
"Will you give it up," the long suffering Neil responded as they ascended a broad stairway. The interior of the casino was massive and open. Games of chance of every conceivable sort ringed a huge central space. Not only the ground but the walls and ceiling were covered also. Antigrav plates had been installed to allow a guest to walk up the walls or over the ceiling. Bars and drinking establishments stood out like barbs on the wall and celing. THe central space was a vast zero gravity dance floor. Launch points were marked on the floor where the gravity was low enough that one could jump into the field. Smaller grav points flashed in and out of existance as bars of neon lights. Hundreds of people flipped and spun overhead, gyrating with wild excess that would have been impossible in normal grav.
"Whoa," Junebug said, impressed inspite of herself.
"Also what is this like nine dimensions of fire arcs to worry about? Remind me to kill Taya."</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The Golden Nebula was not what Sayeeda had imagined from a dingy crime world, though perhaps it should have been. Neoclassical dance music thrummed like a thunderstorm as they stepped through the security checkpoint and into the interior. Just as Taya had said the establishment employed sophisticated biometric scanners, though the expensive units were almost completely recessed into large palatial columns. The security was well armed and obvious but also clean enough to hint at respectability. Also, just as Taya had said, neither the Aestimobium nor the pair of pistols concealed beneath it triggered the sensors. One of the metals many properties was the release of energy in the form of radiation. The radiation was poorly understood but seemed to have no harmful effects on humans. Apparently it was also enough to smother the electronic signatures of the hardware. Sayeeda kept her face pleasant but she really wished they could have bought more hardware. In theory the weapon restrictions applied to their 'business partners' too, but Junebug was to familiar with breaking rules to put much stock in that slender protection.
"I still say we should have pulled a last minute move, somewhere I could have covered with a rifle," the mercenary griped. She was dressed in a skin tight body suit of dark gray, almost black synthetic polymer. It was the sort of thing that a jet bike rider might wear and was judged by Taya to be not too far out of the ordinary for the Nebula. The plus was that it let her wear combat boots, those these were new, black and buffed to a high sheen rather than her worn tan favorites. A band of black enameled metal encirled her brow, keeping her now almost shoulder length hair out of her face. She really needed to find time to get it cut, or at least buzz it so that her helmet would fit properly again.
"Will you give it up," the long suffering Neil responded as they ascended a broad stairway. The interior of the casino was massive and open. Games of chance of every conceivable sort ringed a huge central space. Not only the ground but the walls and ceiling were covered also. Antigrav plates had been installed to allow a guest to walk up the walls or over the ceiling. Bars and drinking establishments stood out like barbs on the wall and celing. THe central space was a vast zero gravity dance floor. Launch points were marked on the floor where the gravity was low enough that one could jump into the field. Smaller grav points flashed in and out of existance as bars of neon lights. Hundreds of people flipped and spun overhead, gyrating with wild excess that would have been impossible in normal grav.
"Whoa," Junebug said, impressed inspite of herself.
"Also what is this like nine dimensions of fire arcs to worry about? Remind me to kill Taya."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil had managed to get together some of the scrap from within the docking bay, and after haggling a bit with the local populace, he managed to quickly fashion and weld some believable, makeshift armor and clothing to better blend in. Oh he'd did not look well off. The leather overwrapped plates of steel on his torso and the ragged workman's clothing made him seem far more like a high ranking junker ganger than anything, or perhaps a shoddy bodyguard to the far more impressive looking Sayeeda. But he certainly wasn't himself. He'd even gotten some soot and pressed it across his face to better give off a local impression.
"Yeah, no kidding," he mumbled in reply to the Captain's comment. He doubted anyone above them would be a good enough shot to actually attempt to take one, but still. It gave them a slightly more vulnerable feeling. Neil clutched the cargo he carried in his left hand a bit harder, and scanned the crowd for any signs of the meeting. It occurred to him now that they had not discussed with Gnorlaac's second on if they were meeting her specifically or one of Gnorlaac's other goons. Luckily, after a moment of searching they found her in the crowd at a table. Small wonder that every table that sat around her and her two guards were nearly empty, save a few bums that were either concealed hitmen or were too dumb to actually take a hint and leave.
"If she doesn't have the money, I don't even care if we get killed, she's going down." Neil said.
"Just keep calm." Sayeeda told him, though she sounded like she was on edge as much as he was.
"So, you decided to join us my... good friends." Yrla said once they had approached her, and she indicated for them to take a seat. If Neil had a knife he could cut the tension. He'd just need to settle for his loaded revolver if push came to shove. Neil pulled out a seat for Sayeeda, and when she seated he took his own seat. He saw Yria, Sayeeda, the guards, and two of the low class cantina residents eyes followed the wrapped container as he set it on the table.
"So...this is it?" the dark skinned woman asked, eyeing them suspiciously. "You know I'll need it shown to me."
"The money first." Neil said, causing Yria to give an incredulous laugh. Neil just grinned, speaking up. "You wire the money to us. We verify it. Once we have it, we give this to you. If you aren't satisfied, you can kill us." It was matter of fact and simple, but the 'killing them' part would not be so easy. In a crowded Cantina, even one owned by Gnorlaac, a firefight wouldn't be ideal. However, if Neil and Sayeeda planned on stealing from him, it would be justified, which meant in order for everyone to be happy, the deal would go as planned...</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Yria laughed. It was a bitter mirthless sound, like glass shattering. The music thrummed conclusively and the zero gravity dance above grew more intense. Sayeeda watched as items, dropped drinks and personal items floated to the sides of the zero g bubble and slipped efficiently into disguised collection tubes. Presumably they were stored somewhere and those foolish enough not to secure their belongings could collect them.
"Believe it or not there is little profit in double crossing you," Yria said as she tapped her fingernail on a glass of some sort of fizzy liquor. The woman's tone was slightly regretful. It was probably true, after the way they had marched into Gnorlaac's lair and declared what they were offering. It had been a risky move, to let people know the treasure they carried, but it also meant Gnorlaac had to be careful about simply murdering them out of hand. It would be bad for business. There was no honor among thieves, but a certain ruthless practicality did prevail.
"We are willing to make the transfer provided you have the merchandise with you?" In lieu of a response Sayeeda hefted the case onto the table between them and cracked the lid. The precious mineral shone its soft glow. Yria lifted the lid slightly with a fingertip, revealing shaped explosive packed into the roof of the case. She arched and eyebrow at the pair of mercenaries.
"One can never be too careful," Sayeeda said, her tone a touch defensive. Yria snorted and waved to one of her thugs who took out a datapad and began to type. Sayeeda felt a slight thrill imagining the money that was about to be deposited.
"The account number please…" Yria's forehead exploded in a spray of blood and brains. A piece of bone traced a bloody line across Sayeeda's cheek. The boom of a large calibre gun was deafening and people began to scream. One of the guards leapt to his feet upending the table in a spray of spilled liquor. Another grabbed for his pistol, pulling it free of the holster with a snap. Sayeeda swung the case by the handle, slamming into the temple of the would be gunmen. The thug collapsed to the floor a half a heart beat before three more booming shots ricocheted off the metalized floor nearby. Screaming panic spread through the crowd. A half dozen other concealed guns appeared from nearby guests. It wasn't a coordinated ambush just other low lives who were able to beat the scanners.
"What the fuck is going on!" Sayeeda screamed at Neil as she pulled her own pistol from the bottom of the case. With a flick of the wrist she tossed the second weapon to Neil and dove sideways behind the low bar to seek cover.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil hit the bar hard, holding the gun Sayeeda tossed him. It wasn't his usual firearm, just your average handgun, but it was better than nothing. He couldn't have seen what he just saw. It was impossible. He must have gotten brain matter in his eye or something. His face was covered with blood and bits of Yria. "Stay down, let me check something." he yelled to the Captain, and got to his feet in a crouch, before slowly lifting his head. As he did so, through the myriad of gunshots he heard three consecutive 'booms', as if a small cannon was being discharged.
The scoundrel poked his head over the counter to see over a dozen dead patrons and Gnorlaac guards limp and lifeless, strew across broken tables. Seven guards, a group of four to the north and a group of three facing their adversary were still alive. It was an opponent that was difficult to see, as if light blended around him and cloaked his considerable bulk. One of the guards fired at the near-hidden enemy, only to be suddenly lifted off his feet, and with a quick jerk his entire spine was shattered. "Better make that six." Neil said to himself.
The hail of lasers and bullets flying about hit something vital on the enemy's armor, and the cloaking device dissipated to reveal a Hexanagallion of ferocious proportions. It moved with the grace of a hunting cat, though it had the bulk of a bull and the armament of a light tank. Its ripper gun shot 11 millimeter long shards of durasteel shrapnel, collected in iron bullets that tore through men and most personnel armor. It shot through two barrels, tearing through every enemy in sight whilst it simply stepped on the closest foe, its sauren-like claws digging into their chest. But that wasn't the terrifying part.
The terrifying part was that Neil recognized this Hex. He dropped back down and hugged the wall, his face speaking volumes. "Wha-" Sayeeda began, but she was interrupted by shouting coming from deeper within the Cantina. "Never thought I'd be glad to hear more gangers coming our way." Neil said, and he grabbed Junebug's hand. "Follow me," he told her, both staying crouched as they moved around the circular bar to the other side. Once they got to the otherside, Neil hugged the next wall and clung to his gun like a lifeline. "Saxon is acting crazy, I think seeing me made him go blood-drunk because usually he's far more subtle."
Neil peaked out again and saw a man get tossed across the Cantina with inhuman strength, followed closely by the near impossible speed of the pouncing Hexa, breaking bones and tearing through the last remaining guards with finesse using Xarconian wrist blades. "We have to get to the back door. Now!" They began to bear crawl, moving past scantily clad dancers and drunk patrons huddled under their tables. The music was luckily still going. As they made it to the door, a roar reverberated off the walls, echoing Neil's surname before the door slid shut behind them. They were now in a deadend alleyway.
Neil wiped the sweat off his brow, slumped. "How is he still alive? Jesus Christ."</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Jesus Christ?" Sayeeda asked as she glanced down the trash filled alley. It was cleaner than most she had seen on the Smuggler's Moon, but that was hardly much of a compliment. The barrel of her pistol shimmered with the heat of rapid fire and her hand gripped the case with white knuckles. Junebug was used to risking her own life, but the prospect of losing millions of credits worth of merchandise was a new one .
"Is that its name?"
The wall beside them shrieked like a diamond saw biting into hull plating. A billowing cloud of dust exploded into the alley moments before the wall exploded outwards in a screaming gush of masonary. The muted screams and gunfire from inside the club redoubled in volume as a six foot hole was ripped in the wall by a combination of gunfire and brute strength. The Hex leaped through the settling dust with a roar that shook the world. Junebug shot it twice in the chest, but either its body armor was sufficient to stop the pistols light slug or the thing was simply too tough to care. It swung its fist at her with deceptive speed and she just had time to raise the case to block the blow. The metal ceramic case crumpled like a crushed soda can and the force of the blow lifted Junebug and smashed her into one of graffiti covered walls. Her breath exploded from her chest as she fell among the trash. The pistol and the case clattered to the ground in opposite directions.
The Hex screamed something that might or might not have been 'Edwards!' and leveled its gun at the pilot. Junebug distinctly heard the screech of the mechanism jamming, but the Hex didn't hesitate. It leaped at Neil, intent on tearing him limb from limb.</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The Hexanagallion gave a clicking growl, unused to such disrespect. It was then he realized he was now standing beside Neil, and the pilot realized it too. "I think we should go," Neil said, trying to change the subject, hoping the Hex would forget he wanted Neil dead. Unlikely he would forget, but still. "Maybe you should help one of us uh, get on top?"
The Hex's expression was unreadable. Well, usually it was unreadable due to his Xeno's nature, but it was unreadable even to Neil, who's had a few very uncomfortable encounters with a very expressive Saxon. Neil decided aid Sayeeda by pushing up on the soles of her shoes, hoisting her up top. She had to squirm a bit to get her weight atop the roof, but she had to keep her body flat to avoid any of the random gunfire, and the possibility of people using optics to spot her.
Neil was less fortunate. Junebug would see Neil being tossed out of the hole she had crawled out of, flying much higher and further than was safe. Neil was fortunate to not get hit by a stray bullet or lasbolt. He rolled almost violently across the roof to fall off the tertiary side in the opposite alleyway. Suddenly, two smoke grenades were tossed out into the streets, fog suddenly billowing out and blanketing the ground below the roof in haze.
Saxon leaped, his saurien legs giving him the strength to make good air but not good enough. His torso was above eyesight, and a series of spikes shot out of his armguard. He slammed the spiked device on the roof, and once the metal was stabbed into the tile he yanked himself up with a grunt. The roof grumbled under his weight.
"Where is your ship?" The brute rumbled.
"I need my pilot first!" Junebug roared back at him as the gunfire increased.
The gangsters on the streets were in the middle of the smoke, those without optics shooting at random thinking they were being attacked. Those that were shooting caused that belief to strengthen, and further shots were fired, curses and battlecries joining in. It seemed they were doing part of the work for them. Neil would have made a quip but he was nowhere to be seen at the moment.
"Where did he go!?" Saxon cried.
"You threw him over the side!" Junebug replied. "Fucking Lizard!"
"Ware your tongue or I'll cut it out!" The Xenos warned, slamming his fist into the roof tile. It was then they both realized the guns had stopped firing, and instead there was shouting.
Meanwhile below, Neil had gathered his wits and clung to the alleywall, hidden from view to the gangster and listening to them regroup. Luckily the smoke still permeated the area, so Neil was still cloaked even when he peeked out into the street. He saw silhouettes in the shadow, about a dozen men he guessed. They didn't seem to bulky, which meant they probably only had moderately powerful armaments. Still, with those numbers and optics, he wasn't sure if they could get out of this.
"They're probably still on the roof," one of Gnorlaac's goon's said. "We should circle around and surround them from all sides, wait until they poke their filthy heads out."
"That idea's horseshit." A voice replied from the smoke. Neil chuckled to himself and slid back into the alleyway.
"Oh, horseshit is it!?"
"I agree, it sucks, we need to take the fight to them."
In less than 15 minutes, Neil, Junebug, and Saxon had managed to make it out of there while the men still debated on how best to kill the would-be escapees.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"I can't tell for sure," Junebug declared as she shimmied back into concealment between the two towering buildings. On the Smugglers Moon it was impossible to tell how many stories up you were, there was no objective 'ground' by which to judge. From Sayeeda's position they appeared to be about three stories above the street across from the hangar where the Highlander was berthed.
"But there must be fifty of them out there," she concluded. The three of them were in a gap between towers that must have once held cabling or plumbing, but had rotted away to an open semi cylinder of ancient concrete. Water, or at least fluid, run off had pitted and slicked the channel, but not to the point that it was impassable. Saxon crouched beside Neil his lips pulled back into a snarl that might or might not have been contempt.
"Why do they not storm the hangar and take the ship?" Saxon spat. Junebug exchanged a look with Neil. The Pilot had a lot of explaining to be do once they were safe, but it would have to wait. The tactical situation was fairly simple, the longer the gave Gnorlac's goons to hunt for them the worse their chances of escaping became. Unfortunately charging through fifty armed men resulted in even worse odds.
"Judging by the heat signatures coming from the hangar, Taya is running the plasma motors so they cant get in," Junebug supplied. It was a smart move, burning the thrusters at low output would fill the hanger with plasma discharge at a temperature of several hundred degrees. The hangar was built to survive such abuse, but lightly armed gangsters would not fare so well. Unfortunately the Highlander didn't have fuel reserves to keep up such a trick forever. Even if the hydraulic lines were still connected, the thrusters would cut out eventually. The EM discharge was also blanking the comms.
"Let us tear our way through them!" the Hex snarled, flexing his clawed fingers menacingly. Sayeeda arched an eyebrow. It was difficult to judge if the suggestion was a serious one, or merely and expression of frustration. Gnorlac's men had certainly taken Saxon's ship already and there seemed little reason to hope they could take it back.
"We have two pistols and twelve rounds between us," Junebug pointed out. The weapons they had brought to the meet had been for emergencies, not to fight a running battle in the streets. Saxon's own weapon might have made such an attack practical, but it was hopelessly jammed and would require tools to repair.
"Also, I don't have anyway to let Taya know to cut the thrusters, also even if she did the concrete is going to be heated to several hundred degrees, more than we can stand without more battledress than we have."
"What do you suggest then?" the lizard spat.
"We need weapons, and we need to get a link to the Highlander, either laser or microwave, maybe if we could get onto the hangar roof?"</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
They were up shit creek without a paddle. Any other day or time, if he found himself in a similar hell as this he would let Saxon go on a rampage. But unfortunately he was too damaged and too outnumbered to really make a difference. Their normal tactics of Neil playing the distraction with well timed shots as Sayeeda mowed them down from various positions wouldn't work either. "Think..." he breathed, speaking to himself. "Think, think, think, think, think."
Saxon growled at the mere sound of his hated quarry's voice, still wondering why he doesn't simply slaughter Neil now and throw the woman to the men below. Though the sound logic of teaming up rushed in to fill the void left by his irrational anger and he calmed himself. He was nothing if not patient. He had to be in his line of work.
"-think, think, think, think, think, think, think-"
Sayeeda elbowed him in the side of the head, subsequently knocking sense into him. Neil's head snapped to the side, and as if by an electric shock, he got it. "I can fix this..." he heard, and realized it was himself talking. "I can fix this? Wait I can." He just needed to call in a favor. Maybe it would make up for the part he played in all this, though he thought it was a little too unfair to blame himself for this entire farce, but still. Always good to cover your bases.
"You two go to the roof. I'll meet you there." He said, sliding back to fall off their elevated position.
"Neil, wait! What are you...." Junebug groaned when she realized he was already gone. Her eyes met Saxon's. "Sometimes I feel like killing him too."
Neil made his way into one of the many entrances to the hanger that led out into the greater Presidium. It was a bit less crowded than earlier, probably because of the recent violence by Gnorlaac's men. He was the big boss around here, so it made sense. Still, violence was the norm so the entire market square wasn't completely devoid of life or activity. But he only needed one man's help.
Sven's bionic eye gleamed for but a moment, identifying Neil before the pilot even knew he was there.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Neil felt a sudden unpleasantly familiar pressure against the small of his back. One did not forget the feeling of a gun being pressed into one's kidneys easily after all. No one in the crowd paid much attention to Sven as he stepped up behind his one time friend, concealing the weapon in the folds of his coat.
"I was just thinking I should by a jingo ticket, and well and behold a jingo ticket comes to me," Sven said placing one hand on Neils shoulder to prevent him from pulling away from the gun.
"I don't know what you assholes did to Gnorlacc, but whatever it is the bounty he put out on you is big enough for me to spend the rest of my life somewhere far better than this stinking shitpile."
With deft motions he guided Neil towards the edge of the market, where a large garage, its sign large an neon but in an unfamiliar script sat, the open maintenance bay yawning cavernously.
"If you will just step inside…"
________________________________
"You'll have to boost me," Junebug said. The roof of the hangar was thirty meters away but a story beneath them. Saxon bared his fangs at the suggestion.
"Why should I help you, more likely this is a trick so that Edwards can escape my clutches," the alien grumbled. Sayeeda placed her balled hands on her hips in exasperation.
"Oh yeah, this is all part of our master escape plan, Neil is probably on a tramp freighter out of system already." The Hex spat onto the concrete, the warm fluid sizzled slightly and Sayeeda had the unpleasant impression that the things bite might be poisonous.
"He was always weak when it came to females," Saxon rejoined, causing Sayeeda to arch an eyebrow. Whatever history Neil had with Saxon it was obviously more personal than she had imagined. Neil had told her that he had been a mech pilot in some war, he didn't really seem old enough to have been kicking around the galaxy long enough to have that sort of history. Well if she survived she supposed she could ask.
"Whatever, just boost me," she snapped, pulling open closures to loosen her leather bodysuit and gain a few extra inches of motion. The Hex glanced skeptically at the hangar roof across the street.
"You will break your bones," he said, the assessment surprisingly neutral, as though voluntarily breaking bones were something that ought be considered but not necessarily rejected. Junbug moved back up the accessway to give herself a run up.
"Only if I'm really unlucky, and besides, its not like my options look that great otherwise," she added. Saxon squatted down and made a stirrup out of his clawed hands.
"If you abandon me I will kill you as well as the pilot female," Saxon hissed, his voice filled with menace.
"If I had a credit for everytime I heard that one," Sayeeda said and sprinted down the accessway towards the hex. Just before she reached him she bounded into the air and bought her right foot down in his hands, the Hex uncoiled like an olympic shotputer and hurled her out over the street. For a moment she arched upwards on momentum before gravity reasserted itself. Spending years in speeding combat vehicles prepared you for that shocking second when the ground wasn't there. You had to keep functioning, keep thinking, or else you were going to loose your vehicle in an unexpected gully or swale. Sayeeda twisted forward as she flew, letting her head drop. The street below rushed up and for a moment she thought she wasn't going to make it. Then her hands struck the roof of the hangar and she let them fold slowly as she tucker her chin down and balled her body up. She tumbled across the ferocrete roof and slammed into one of the ventilation motors that perched atop it with a crash. The leather clothing she wore saved her from being torn to bloody rags by the stunt but the jolt she had adsorbed with her arms and wrists hurt like hell. Groggily she came to her feet waving at Saxon. It didn't sound like anyone in the street had noticed either the airborne mercenary or the sound of her abrupt return to the ground, that wasn't surprising, the steady thrum of the Highlanders plasma motors was enough to dull the senses of anyone this close.
"Now I just have to get in touch with Taya," she muttered brushing at her now ragged clothing with irritation. The heel of one of her boots had torn away in the fall. Curse this planet and everyone on it.</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug had been in class one triage facilities on three prior occasions. Once on Temlek where artillery fire had gotten through the net of anti-ordance plasma guns and blasted the gun pits that she and her troops had been sheltering in whilst waiting for the reliving column to break through. A nearby vehicle had been hit and she had been sprayed with burning petroleum. Another time on Chadon's World, a directional mine had gone off beneath her combat car. She had been riding in the left wing gun and had been tossed clear before the secondary explosions had slagged the vehicle. A third time on Chalcedon she had been shot in a rear area when a bar fight escalated unexpectedly.
Just because a sensation was familiar didn't make it pleasant. The Terrans, like the Armored, used direct nerual impulse generators rather than anaglgesics once a soldier was safely in a med center. There were fewer side effects and they were more reliable. They also tened to scramble the mind of the patient when they were turned off. Light was suddely very bright on her eyes and she tried to cry out. Neraby a male voice said something and the light dimmed. After a moment she realised she was laying in a medicomp. Several nurses or doctors stood around looking at holographic read outs.
"Easy there Captain how are you feeling?" A man in a surgical mask asked. His right eye was covered with some sort of imager the clicked and whired. There was a powerful taste of antisceptic in the back of her throat.
"Just aces," she tried to say but her mouth felt gummy and the words came out garbled and unintelligble. Frowning she tried again.
"Just aces," she responded, clearer this time.
"Can I have some water?" she asked. Her mind knew she should be concerned with where she was, the last thing she remembered was shooting someone on a ship, though she couldn't quite remember why or who exactly. SHe had shot alot of people afterall her mind rationalized.
"Not just yet," the doctor replied, "we need to see how the resynths hold up." As he spoke he glanced over at one of the techs who was cycling through a series of read outs.
"You were in quite a state, very lucky that the overpressure didn't flat out smash any organs," the doctor went on. He sounded proud, pleased that nature hadn't been allowed to take its course.
"Sir I'm ready to return to my unit," she mumbled. Judging from the confusion that clouded the physician's eyes that wasn't quite the right response either. He exchanged looks with someone too far out of her field of view for her to see. Junebug tried to turn her head but the medicomp wouldn't allow it.
"Where am I?" she asked looking around. It was high tech for certain, probably better than most of the field surgical centers the Armored had used. State of the art without a doubt.
"You are aboard the Terran Vessel November Sky," a voice said from behind her, a moment later a mustachioed man strode into view. He had a wirey dangerous look and his eyes glinted with intelligence. A Terran warship? She had a confused recollection of the Terran's having captured the highlander. Adrenaline surged through her system and several alarms began to beep.
"Not to worry, you and your friends are our guests, your employers you might say," the man went on. He clearly intended to say more but Taya pushed past him and hugged Junebug, even though most of her body was still within the medicomp.
"It is good to have you back Junebug!" the girl all but wept.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
York gave a smile, though it was difficult to tell whether it was genuine or not with the impressive mustache. Meanwhile, Neil's smile was genuine. Not only Taya's affection for Junebug, but the fact that she looked like she would live. It was quick though, the smile. He heard various beeps and medical machines thrumming and he briefly wondered how such things work. He gazed intently at one of the contraptions, a tall cylinder with an oval head that read vitals through green waves on the screen.
"You should make a full recovery in the matter of days, Miss Cykali." York said. With her wits returning to her bit by bit, she began to realize the regiment she had believed herself to be in was not here, and she could afford to speak a bit less formally. "Captain Cykali," she corrected him. The man inclined his head as if to say 'fair enough.' "Where is my pilot?" she asked, a bit weakly after she had talked for a bit.
Taya waved Neil over, but he was too busy looking elsewhere. Taya then told Junenbug. "One second," and scurried over to literally push Neil over into Sayeeda's field of vision. Neil then got a good look at Sayeeda, and realized he had wanted to avoid seeing her so banged up. He played it cool though. "You feeling ok?" he asked her. "Next time don't slow me down." He joked. "When it comes to heavy weapons I get a little carried away."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Please," Junebug said with a week laugh, "WIthout me you would be scattered across a city block." She didn't quite remember the specifics but it seemed like the thing to say. Her memory seemed to be clearing and a cool sensation was spreading down her right arm there was a quiet whir as a pneumatic pump delivered medication. There was a confused jumble of memories that seemed to seperate out into a half dozen battlefieds.
"It was nearly you who were scattered all over the pavement," Neil pointed out. Sayeeda made a dismissive gesture down at her medicomp encased body.
"Everything still on the inside, mostly at any rate," she said, "beside if I bitched every time I got a little blown up I'd never shut up."
York, still hovering put on a patronizing smile.
"Well I'll leave you to your reunion," the spy said, fluffing his mustache with his hand in a way that was meant to convey comradely bonhomie. Junebug fixed him with a steady stare. She had seen men and women like him before. In what Andor's armored euphemistically called 'the field police'. They looked human enough at first but their work turned them into something else. He reached the med bay door and looked back over his shoulder.
"I'm sure Mr Edwards will be happy to fill you in on the details of our arrangement," and with that he was gone. Junebug opened her mouth to ask what he was talking about when a calm female voice sounded over the public alert system. It sounded like a real voice rather than a synthesized computer simulation.
"All hands prepare for insertion." All around them the medics grabbed hold of whatever solid surface was to hand. The medicomp tightened around Junebug's body. A tone sounded followed rapidly by two more sequentials and then there was a sudden shuddering sensation and Junebug felt like she was about to vomit up her internal organs. Then the universe seemed to relax. They were in the RIP. Junebug arched her eyebrow at Neil.
"I'm sure Mr Edwards will be happy to fill me in on the details of this arrangement…"</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Taya opened her mouth to speak, and then suddenly gained a small twinkle in her eye and a mischievous smile, and she stepped out of sight. In truth, Taya just didn't want to interrupt Neil, or explain that she sat back and allowed the events to transpire. She had gotten braver since they had all met, but she still felt wholly inadequate when it came to certain things. That and a few other sly reasons.
"Can I get a seat?" Neil asked, one of the last nurses that were exiting their section of the medbay gave a smile and nodded, providing a rolling chair. After they had made it into R.I.P. space, of course. Neil plopped down, and he was going to place his hand on the holster of his gun, but the familiar resting place was gone and he recalled they had taken it. Maybe he could get it back considering they were now working for them. Speaking of which...
"Well?" Junebug said.
"Well, the dapper fellow that you had the pleasure of meeting earlier is called York and he is our new boss. Or employer." He imagined Junebug would take the news better if he didn't make it sound so subordinate. "They took Sven and Saxon I don't know where. But they saved your life, and I think they trust me now because I helped this man York apprehend Saxon-"
"Spit it out. What could they need from us that they can't do themselves?" She asked.
Neil gave a guilty smile and waved with his branded hand.
She tried to laugh, but coughed instead.
Neil shrugged. "They want to get into the Ancient Ruins we were in. In exchange they'll give us our freedom. No more bounty, and some reward money. I think it's not a bad deal, and I accepted it. Hope you don't mind."</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug settled back against the comfortable restraint of the medicomp.
"Well shit."
----------------------
The slap of boots on the hull plating echoed through the cavernous hangar. The training hall was large enough to hold a dozen Highlanders, the ceiling, occasionally accessable by rope or other climinbing equipment, was at least ten meters high at its lowest point. A group of twenty men and women with severe haircuts were running an assault course, weaving in an out of obstacles and vaulting walls. A sallow faced female drill seargent hurled creative profanity at the soldiers as they tried in vain to reach a bar which would be perpetually be raised. Despite several massive ventilation grates at the end of the training hall, it still smelled like stale sweat and effort.
As Sayeeda completed her lap the training computer attached to her wrist beeped, flashing up a variety metrics to offer critique of her performance. She ignored the data for now, forcing herself to keep the same pace as she started the next rotation. It had been nearly a week since she got out of sickbay. True to York's prediction she had made a full recovery, if anything she felt stronger than she had before the smugglers moon. Her training times were up across the board as were her marksmanship and reaction exercises. A brush with death could sometimes be good for focus.
The crew of the November Sky was reserved though she had seen a few of the female crew members giving Neil covert glances. For the most part they were polite but distant. Junebug wasn't sure if this was the result of orders or of a generalized distaste for York and the other intelligence personell which had transferred to his 'guests'. If they were prisoners there were few restrictions placed on them. Marines kept them off the bridge and out of engineering but beyond that they had the run of the ship. According to York the trip to Sarvan would take almost three months. That given the currents and tides within the RIP that was actually amazingly fast. The bulk of the November Sky meant it could tolerate gradients that would shred a freighter the size of the Highlander. According to what little she had been able to get out of one of the ships astrogation staff she had cornered in the cafeteria, the currents were nearly as bad as it was possible to be. Judging by how haunted the fellow looked, the navigational staff was working long hours to make any progress whatsoever.
The Highlander was still accessible but a swarm of Terran technicians were helping 'refit' the vessel. Although the actually seemed to be doing real work, they had 'coincidentally' stripped out the fusion plant for a partial rebuilt. The vessel was unflyable without several hours and a full tech team to put it back together. Worst of all York and his men had confiscated the aestimobium while Junebug had been in medical. It was technically a restricted substance in Terran space and though York had made a few token statements about evidence and due process but she wasn't holding her breath.
"Junebug!" Sayeeda slackened her pace as Taya hurried into the training hall. The girl was wearing a terran uniform without insignia. It was a flattering cut on her, though Junebug wasn't, in general, a fan of uniforms. The girl had initially been timid but she seemed to be relaxing into her new surroundings.
"Major York is looking for us," Taya said as Junebug came to a stop breathing hard. The computer on her wrist beeped as it registred that her exercise had come to an end. The mercenary laughed without much real humor.
"I would be shocked if York was in any doubt as to where we are, I'm willing to bet he gets a briefing on what we have for breakfast." Taya shrugged as if that were of no import.
"Apparently they are going to release Saxon and York wants to hold some sort of briefing, I figured we would meet up with Neil and talk before that." They were walking towards the showers as they spoke. Sayeeda nodded.
"Good thought, let me grab a shower and then we can meet Neil… somewhere." Taya reached out and laid a hand on Junebug's forearm.
"Junebug, I wanted to talk to you about something," the girl said earnestly. Sayeeda frowned uncertain what the girl had in mind.
"Sure, whats on your mind Taya?" Junebug asked as she stepped into the shower cubicle and began stripping off her sweaty exercise clothes.
"Are you… well are you feeling alright?"
Junebug stepped into the shower and clicked the button, bracing herself. The Terrans evidently believed in toughening up their troops because the shower was icy cold.
"Yeah, I feel great, Terrans may be assholes but they got the best medical tech in the galaxy."
"Right," Taya returned in a tone that didn't quite convey agreement. Sighing Junebug stepped out of the shower and fixed the girl with a level look inviting her to get to the point.
"You look younger, younger since the surgery I mean," Taya blurted. Sayeeda looked in the mirror, it wasn't something she made a habit of, after thirty, the chances you would find an improvement were pretty small. It didn't seem to her that their was much difference, the shadows under her eyes were a bit lighter, her face a bit less taught.
"I was burning the thrusters pretty hard before the Smugglers Moon, I'm sure its just rest and the doctor enforced diet." Taya looked unconvinced at this as Sayeeda pulled open a locker and retrieved a white t-shirt and her customary fatigue pants.
"Let see what Niel makes of this briefing shall we?"</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil's palms pressed to the Highlander Floor, and he placed his knees against his elbows, and with a practiced ease, he suddenly lifted his legs up and balanced. A bead of sweat dripped onto the floor, and with a will his legs then lifted fully into the air, outstretching into a handstand. He would need to hold the position for five minutes. It was the last handstand of his set, and then he would get back to tinkering with the Hauler they had in the cargo bay.
Of course the repairs were slightly limited. The Terrans had scanned, searched, and X-rayed the entire ship for munitions and weaponry, and it was under heavy surveillance from virtually every angle in the larger hanger, with guards posted, keeping the ship and its pilot under watch at all times. It was after a large discussion with York that Neil had convinced him to allow re-entry, much less permission to work on the Hauler under supervision. A floating AI with a camera followed Neil wherever he went in the Highlander, which is why he chose to go to the restroom before he entered the ship.
"Three minutes. You got this." he said to himself, his voice strained.
"NEIL!!!"
He lost his balance and collapsed to the ground as the voice reverberated in his ear. "Ah, FUCK." he exclaimed. He'd left the comm on full volume to be able to hear over the repairs half an hour ago. He realized it was Junebug after a moment. "Y-Yeah, what is it?"
"Meet up with us in Assembly room 41A, pilot. We're going to be briefed by York. Supposedly they're releasing Saxon."
"You got it, Capt'n." Neil said, trying to release his pressurized left ear. Lonny appeared above. "You will have optimal hearing in minutes. Only long bursts of loud sound can disrupt the ear drums indefinitely." Neil rubbed his eyes and got up, removing his goggle and tool belt. "Thanks Lonny, you're a gem."
Even after having been here for days and days, the immensity of the hanger still impressed Neil. As he stepped out of the Highlander, men surveyed him from the elevated walkways, lasrifles at the ready and faceless helms hiding whatever expression they might have. Their body armor was simply flak vests, but they were reinforced with Torellian Steel, making it almost respectable body armor in a real firefight.
The sliding door slid open, and Neil stepped into the hall and walked what he believed to be a quarter mile to the designated room. A small meeting room where lesser officials could have private discussions. The AI had stopped following Neil as soon as he had left the Highlander. As the engineer stepped in, he gave them a wave. "Sup?" he asked them, taking a load off on one of the chairs at the long table. He decided he would prop his boots up and relax. It was when he sat down did he blink and squint at Sayeeda. "Are... you look good. You feel better?"
"By the way, I'm not sure if you guys want to play this straight when we reach on-world or not. I never feel bad fucking over Terrans, but..."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Nobody ever feels bad fucking over the Terrans," York said as he strode through the hatch.
"And why should they, we are afterall the only faction trying to bring peace to a fractured galaxy, the only group with the resources and vision to usher in a… oh whatever," he said growing tired of the boilerplate speech and waving a dismissive hand.
"Still I really wouldn't advise it, our intelligence suggests that the beta site is quite deadly enough without trying to play games." He took a seat at a console and bought it live, projecting an omni directional view that showed a three dimensional map of Saavran.
"And of course if you did decide to betray us we would have to kill you," he said apologetically. York held up his palms in a placating gesture.
"It's not personal of course, just policy. Besides I want us to be friends." The smile on his lips was so oily and insincere it had to be deliberate.
"As a sign of my good faith.." as though on cue the door opened again and Saxon, still in electro binders was marched in. Two marines followed him armed with active shock rods thought this was clearly a precaution rather than an attempt to prod the Hex along. Another marine a stunning woman with short blonde hair and Lieutenants pips stepped through after them. She wore a suit of light weight combat armor that covered her chest and legs but left her arms bare to reveal a variety of Terran Marine Corp tattoos as well as some less familiar designs.
"I am releasing your friend, or your associate or whatever it is you call him. I am certain he bears you no ill will, even though you did shoot him with that shock gun," York said with a prosaic smile. Saxon turned and glared daggers at Neil.
"Before I do so however I should advise him that as I need Mr Edwards alive, I took the liberty of installing certain guarantees while you were unconscious. I would advise you not to test them." The blonde Marine Lieutenant steeped in front of the Hex and disengaged the binders with seeming unconcern. Across the back of her armor was stenciled the name 'Woods'.
"I'll give you a moment to get reacquainted before the Lieutenant here takes over the briefing," York said as the door opened and Sven entered, EMP binders were attached to his wrist but not currently active meaning he could move freely.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"Oh gee, you shouldn't have." Neil said with faux admiration as York had his 'good faith' present sent in. Taya, despite her fear of Saxon and York, couldn't help but giggle quietly. If it was any other circumstance, he would have admired the blonde woman with much more than a passing glance, but he felt like he wanted this entire situation behind them and ignored any Terran soldiers for the most part.
"Well, now that our cards are all on the table." Neil continued as Sven entered the room. "Let's talk. How big of a reward are we talking when we get the job done. Without tricks." He added and pointed at York. York inclined his head, seemingly amused at the nerve of asking for money before they were even briefed.
"That depends upon the manner of our discoveries. But thirty thousand credits seems good for a minimum, don't you think?"
Neil tried to speak, but then did some quick calculations in his head. He had expected more, but then again that was a good price for a moderately dangerous bounty, and all this mission was, was essentially being an escort and a guide through ruins they had likely already explored. "As a bare minimum, yes." he said slowly. Sayeeda rolled her eyes. The Hexanagallion flexed his hands once they were unbound, and his first glare was at Neil and York.
Unexpectedly however, were his next words. "On my honor, I shall comply."
Neil blinked, and York explained. "We promised dear Saxon here all of his belongings back and another 30,000 credits to not seek any...what did you call it?"
"Blood Vengeance."
"Yes that. And we gave a few concessions to Sven over here as well." The nordic Cyborg gave a neutral, impassable stare. It was the coldest thing in the room, and it was a fairly cold room. Lieutenant Woods cleared her throat, the strict command of her voice was as iron hard as the muscles on her arms. "If we are done, then shall we begin?" she asked. Taya nodded, and Junebug gave a nod and sat beside Neil and Taya. Saxon and Sven still stood, Sven known for not getting exhausted like normal men and Saxon simply too big to sit.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Woods took a step forward her full lips tugging into a grin as she beheld her audience. It must have seemed like quite a group. A massive Hex being held back from extracting blood vengeance, an eeriely calm cyborg, a pilot who was sassing the most dangerous man on the ship, a girl barely out of here teens and a mercenary captain who had officially been charged with murdering five Terran commandos.
She cleared her throat and touched the hologram with a fingertip. The map expanded to twice its original size. The hologram was so clear and perfect that Junebug thought she could see the oceans slowly moving in their tidal flows. Terran holographic tech, like everything else, was state of the art. The world had three continents one of which was a polar plate. Two red dots blinked in steady rythym.
"This," she said in a clear melodious voice, "is Site Alpha." Images, some from satellite, some from helmet cams populated in the air. It seemed to Junebug like they came from another lifetime but she recognised the lush tropical jungle of Saavran. There were other pictures, clearly taken after the fact with professional imaging equipment, showed a devastated forest and a vast, vaguely anthropomorphic ridgeline. Junebug shuddered, she had worked hard to put the strange golem thing that Neil had stopped from waking up out of her mind.
"Even after three years of research we haven't made much headway into understanding what happened," Woods explained.
"The original caverns you penetrated appear to have vanished. Sonar and other remote sensing gear suggests that the 'guardian' as we are terming it is a solid undifferentiated mass," Woods explained. Junebug's lips compressed into a frown.
"We saw it move though it cant be solid," she objected. Woods nodded at his.
"Yes we did, current theory from the experts is that it is some kind of super fluid solid that can harden itself when inactive. Whatever control chamber you penetrated must have been subsumed." Taya leaned forward clearly rapt to be learning about an adventure that had occured before she had joined the crew.
"Which brings us to Site Beta," Woods went on. The image rotated to bring up a red dot on the polar plate. More images appeared of strange cyclopean architecture thrusting up out of a sheet of perma frost.
"It only became active after you fucked up Alpha, and so far we haven't been able to get so much as a sensor drone within half a kilometer of the edge of it."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
As Woods took measure of the crew, she would notice the smallest columned sections of light emitting off Sven's eyes periodically, and Saxon's gill-like ridges huffing as he gazed at the anomaly that had occurred while he was still fighting the killer worm on the asteroid Neil had stranded him on. Neil watched as only a man who had survived multiple cataclysms would, somewhat tired but still having a stoic sense of humor about it.
"You know, I love messing up with the natural order of things. But I'm starting to think I draw the line at ancient super advanced tech that can come alive and devour planets." He said. "Anyone else feel that way? Just me?"
Woods couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry, pretty boy. We'll be there to watch your back." the shapely woman said with an amused smile. Neil blinked, and mouthed 'pretty?'
"We have calculated the risks." Woods continued with a more serious tone. York spoke up. "In fact, we even addressed your friend Sven here and received his input. The risks are hard to tell, but he garnered a rough estimate. Apparently we have a 58 percent chance of finding what we are there to look for and to leave with no casualties."
"From our current data, at least." Sven added.
"Do I at least get to pilot my ship?" Neil asked, hopeful smile on his face. When Woods said he was, he pumped his arm and mouthed 'wicked' before leaning back and tell her "Thanks babe." He'd not driven the Highlander for longer than he cared for. Neil had really started to get fond of that ship. That, and Lonney, of course.
"And me?" Taya asked.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Woods seemed a little uncomfortable for a moment and then manipulated her controllers. A video from a small electronic drone showed the same strange architecture from a higher angle. The drone closed quickly and a second feed from a ground based camera appeared showing what seemed to be the same vehicle as it approached the edge of the city. With a startling suddeness the drone picture went blank and the ground based feed showed the little vehicle suddenly exploding in a puff of smoke.
"We haven't been able to get any tech into site beta," she said, a red ring appeared around the site, marking the barrier.
"Biologicals haven't fared any better, we are working on the assumption that Pretty Boy's alien ink will get us through the barrier." She nodded at Taya.
"Best case we get a small window we can carry our tech through. Although I think we probably would be better off using our own people..." she trailed off and York rolled his eyes. Clearly it was an old argument between the two of them. Woods was too much of a professional to rehash it now.
"You will be coordinating tech support on the other side of the shield. We have to assume that comm nets and tech is going to need to be put together on the other side. We will be sending a tactical team in with you. My team. We are going to get in, get what intel we can and try to find someway to bring down the shield so that we can start properly studying the site. If you guys can do that for us, then its mission accomplished."
Sayeeda crossed her legs, looking at the logistics of the operation. It was clear that the Terrans weren't telling them everything. It seemed like they could just take Neil along and leave the rest of them ship side. Why was York so keen to get them all down on this mission?
"Well, we are still a month out, we are just going to cruise in the mean time?" she asked. Woods smiled as though she had been offered the most handsome man in the universe for the night.
"Of course not captain, that means we have a whole month to train up."</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
As Woods took measure of the crew, she would notice the smallest columned sections of light emitting off Sven's eyes periodically, and Saxon's gill-like ridges huffing as he gazed at the anomaly that had occurred while he was still fighting the killer worm on the asteroid Neil had stranded him on. Neil watched as only a man who had survived multiple cataclysms would, somewhat tired but still having a stoic sense of humor about it.
"You know, I love messing up with the natural order of things. But I'm starting to think I draw the line at ancient super advanced tech that can come alive and devour planets." He said. "Anyone else feel that way? Just me?"
Woods couldn't help but laugh. "Don't worry, pretty boy. We'll be there to watch your back." the shapely woman said with an amused smile. Neil blinked, and mouthed 'pretty?'
"We have calculated the risks." Woods continued with a more serious tone. York spoke up. "In fact, we even addressed your friend Sven here and received his input. The risks are hard to tell, but he garnered a rough estimate. Apparently we have a 58 percent chance of finding what we are there to look for and to leave with no casualties."
"From our current data, at least." Sven added.
"Do I at least get to pilot my ship?" Neil asked, hopeful smile on his face. When Woods said he was, he pumped his arm and mouthed 'wicked' before leaning back and tell her "Thanks babe." He'd not driven the Highlander for longer than he cared for. Neil had really started to get fond of that ship. That, and Lonney, of course.
"And me?" Taya asked.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Woods seemed a little uncomfortable for a moment and then manipulated her controllers. A video from a small electronic drone showed the same strange architecture from a higher angle. The drone closed quickly and a second feed from a ground based camera appeared showing what seemed to be the same vehicle as it approached the edge of the city. With a startling suddeness the drone picture went blank and the ground based feed showed the little vehicle suddenly exploding in a puff of smoke.
"We haven't been able to get any tech into site beta," she said, a red ring appeared around the site, marking the barrier.
"Biologicals haven't fared any better, we are working on the assumption that Pretty Boy's alien ink will get us through the barrier." She nodded at Taya.
"Best case we get a small window we can carry our tech through. Although I think we probably would be better off using our own people..." she trailed off and York rolled his eyes. Clearly it was an old argument between the two of them. Woods was too much of a professional to rehash it now.
"You will be coordinating tech support on the other side of the shield. We have to assume that comm nets and tech is going to need to be put together on the other side. We will be sending a tactical team in with you. My team. We are going to get in, get what intel we can and try to find someway to bring down the shield so that we can start properly studying the site. If you guys can do that for us, then its mission accomplished."
Sayeeda crossed her legs, looking at the logistics of the operation. It was clear that the Terrans weren't telling them everything. It seemed like they could just take Neil along and leave the rest of them ship side. Why was York so keen to get them all down on this mission?
"Well, we are still a month out, we are just going to cruise in the mean time?" she asked. Woods smiled as though she had been offered the most handsome man in the universe for the night.
"Of course not captain, that means we have a whole month to train up."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The first week had Neil and Sayeeda being put through basic training. Mostly as a formality rather than to aid them in anyway. Junebug obviously passed with flying colors, and Neil's only real problems were from a lack of discipline. However, it was the most amusing televid on the November Sky once they recorded the final obstacle course that they both participated in, competing against one another. More than once did Neil trip up Sayeeda, and Sayeeda planting her boot on Neil's chest multiple times.
Junebug beat Neil by 12 seconds, though they both made moderate time. No one doubted they would have made very good time if the were going separately. In the meantime, Taya was getting basic exercises, command signal classes, and even confidence training to help her in dire situations. Sven and Saxon were both analyzed and took various tests and scans for a 10,000 credit increase in their minimal payments, since a lawless Cyborg and a Xenos who was usually an enigma to the Terrans were hard to come by, and more than a few scientists were curious about them. Sven kept the scans on his various parts to a minimum, however.
After the week was up, they were separated during the day for additional tests. Junebug was tested for her superior combat aptitude, monitored by York. She was given a field test of firing at moving targets via laser gun in a controlled environment. Civilian targets were issued part the way through to avoid. After that, she was given a test on command language, and what she would need to remember in order to respond properly on the ground. She passed that easily as well.
York snorted. "Perhaps, Captain Cykali, you should be training our recruits."
Meanwhile, Neil had been asked to take apart and put back together a Voxx communicator. Woods monitored the test, and she went from amused to impressed when Neil finished minutes faster than any other recorded time, and he still had some time for a few jokes in between.
"How did you..." she began, then shook her head, clearing her throat and regaining some cool dignity. "Up next is close combat."
"Sure. Who is my sparring partner?"
"Me. This way, Pretty boy."
He had expected that he'd fight Junebug, but he guessed they had done enough of that on the obstacle course. He didn't know if she was insulting him or complimenting him with that name. "Hey, I'm manly alright?"</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Snowflakes drifted down over the artificial hillock at the end of the training hall. York, or Woods took a very literal approach to training for cold weather. The entire hall was blanketed with snow, packed down to ice where the Marines were still forced to conduct their daily PT. Perversley they seemed to blame the crew of the Higlander for this development despite the fact it was clear they had been shanghaied into the whole endeavor.
"Now remember, squeeze dont pull, breathe in, breathe out, breath halfway in…" The submachine gun in Taya's hand chattered six or seven round burst. The target a holographic soldier about fifty meters away flew appart in a cloud of pixels. A wireframe of the same man appeared a few meters infront of them. Red glowing marks indicated where two rounds had struck, one in the shoulder and one in the right hip. A third glowing dot appeared over the man's head, indicating a near miss.
"Control the length of your burst," Junebug said encouragingly, "the recoil is lifting the muzzle and making the shots go high." Both women were laying on their chests on the hill. They were dressed in identical Terran issue combat gear, full body suits with ceramic armor plates protecting vital systems. Neither woman was wearing a helmet although they had been available, instead Junebug had insisted on simple shooters goggles to protect their eyes from the biting wind that was being pumped into the training hall.
"How do you do that," Taya asked in exasperation, having received the same advise in various forms for the better part of an hour.
"YOu only ever tell me to breath, squeeze and control the burst." Sayeeda chuckled and picked up her own submachine gun and checked the load. The weapons were made to simulate plasma weapons though, for the sake of the ship, they actually fired ceramic training rounds.
"Well when you start doing those things, I'll give you more advice," Junebug said with a grin.
"Dynamic pattern, randomize," Junebug said and worked the slide to charge the weapon. A soldier appeared down range and she fired a three round burst. He was replaced by another and another at differing ranges and positions. Junebug continued to fire in two or three round bursts until the weapon ran dry. The figures materialized in the scoring zone, each with a two or three centimeter grouping in their center of mass, save for one which had appeared prone and sported two red dots on his forhead.
"Again." This time Taya managed a three round burst and scored two hits one low in the groin and the other in the sternum.
"How often do I need to do this?" Taya asked as she slipped another magazine into the weapon.
"Every chance you get, I try to do something everyday," Junebug replied, reaching over to make a minute adjustment to the younger womans grip.
"Don't you get tired of it?" she asked putting down two more holographic opponents with middling accuracy.
"My old CO once told me that no matter how good you are, the man who will kill you is out there and he is probably training." Taya shook her head.
"That's a little morbid," she said, reaching for another magazine. Junebug placed a hand on her wrist.
"That's enough for today," she said standing up and brushing the snow from her armor. The internal temperature regulators kept her warm but her face was starting to get frost bitten. Taya duplicated the gesture, making sure the gun was on safe before slinging it over her shoulder.
"Back again tomorrow?" Taya supposed. Junebug smiled broadly.
"Now you are getting it."
Twenty minutes later they were out of their borrowed armor and drinking hot coffee as they head towards the gymnasium where the ships computer had pinged Neil. They passed crewmen at work at a variety of stations, some of them smiled or called greetings to Taya. The cross training she was getting bought her into closer contact with the regular crew than Neil or Junebug enjoyed. Suddenly Taya vered left where Junebug had expected her to go right. Frowning she opened her mouth to correct the youg woman but Taya merely guestured urgently. Junebug followed her down an unfamiliar access way that was devoid of crewmen.
"I've disconnected the surveillance feeds in this corridor," Taya said quickly as her captain joined her. Junebug nodded indicating she had heard the statement but not amplifying it.
"I was going over the Highlander now that we are getting close and I checked on some of the Terran mods," she went on glancing around furtively.
"I found a remote kill switch in the thrust drive controller," Taya said urgently. Junebug frowned. The Terrans had installed some significant upgrades in the last few weeks, mostly to the sensor suites and the communications gear, bringing it up to fleet standards so that the freigheter could keep in touch with the November Sky with encrypted comms.
"What did you do?" Junebug asked her face stoic. Taya shrugged her shoulders.
"I pulled one of the leads and left it there, and I asked Lonny to run some diagnostics on the down low, but where there is one…."
"There are bound to be more," Sayeeda finished. It was logical that the Terrans would install some safeguards against them making a run for it before they fulfilled their end of the deal but the idea of the Highlander being filled with remote access hardware didn't fill her with confidence.
"Have you told Neil yet?" Junebug asked. Taya shook her head.
"No time, I only learned how to disconnect things here because of the surveillance tech lessons they have been giving me."
"Let him know as soon as you can, but don't do anything obvious about it, maybe he and Loney can come up with a way to scrub the ship in a hurry." They emerged back into a familiar corridor and they both fell silent. They should be arriving within the next few days, and it seemed there was alot they still needed to do.
---
"I guess you will just have to promise to take it easy on me," Woods said, rolling her eyes.
Without preamble Woods lashed out driving a palm into the top of Neil sternum and sending the pilot sprawling backwards. She was stripped down to gym shorts and a brown pt shirt that was already clinging to her. The tattoos on her arms shifted and rippled beneath her lean taught muscles as she sprang forward cat like, sweeping Neil's legs out from under him with a well placed kick. Neil fell flat on his back and Woods pounced but he rolled aside before she could land on top of him. He shoved her sideways and used the momentum to spring back to his feet. Woods tucked into a roll and came up like a cobra arms spread in an unfamiliar fighting stance.
"Not bad," Woods conceded in a mildly amused tone.
"Thank you for noticing," Neil replied feinting to the right before aiming a round house blow at the Terran Commandos midsection. Woods pivoted with the punch robbing it of most of its force before driving her elbow into Neils chest sending him stagger back once more. She grinned, her expression wolfish and not to dissimilar to how Junebug looked right before she was about to kill someone.
There were a half dozen other soldiers in the gymnasium, some were lifting weights but most had stopped to watch the sparring match. Woods was relaxed her shoulders slightly slouched, looking almost feline in her graceful movement.
"So I had a question to ask you," she said. Neil leaped forward driving a fist at her. She swatted the blow aside with her forearm and lashed out with a kick but Neil, anticipating the move danced backwards and grabbed her ankle, twisting and throwing Woods of balance. She went down and he dived after her landing on top of the soldier and pinning her to the floor. There was a round of applause from the onlookers. As the soldiers began calling encouragement and placing bets.
"What question?" he asked, raising a cocky eyebrow. She hit him hard in the kidney driving the air from his lungs as she rolled atop of him. A thin sheen of sweat running over her pale skin.
"Are you and Cykali together or what?"</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug grabbed her go bag, a large duffel that contained her battered armor, her helmet and a variety of small arms from her quarters. The November Sky rocked as its massive spinal mounted mass driver fired. The ship immediately maneuvered violently, as the helmsmen worked to minimize the consistency of their target profile. The warships grav pumps kept the maneuver from jellying the bones of those inside but it still lurched violently throwing crewmen into the bulkheads.
Sayeeda nearly ran into York who was sauntering along the companionway with irritating grace. The intelligence officer had not donned any armor but he wore a bandolier of reloads for the elegant plasma pistol he wore in his holster. He reached out a hand to steady her but Junebug ignored it joining him in heading towards the hangar bay.
"Brigands? Really?" she asked as they ducked into an alcove to avoid being trampled by a squad of Marines in full zero g combat gear raced paced at a lumbering run. Junebug assumed they were heading towards boarding pods or other strong points in the ship in case they needed to board or defend against a breach.
"Sven said they were Chalcedon ships, know anything about that?" Junebug demanded, bracing herself against a hatch as the mass driver fired another round. York's face didn't change but Junebug had been around him long enough to recognise the irritation on his face. For a moment she thought he was just going to ignore her.
"The Chalcedon League, so called, is a number of former Terran colonies that are currently in rebellion against Earth, they are mostly located across the Gulf, and so they don't have much to do with the rest of the galaxy," York responded tersely. The gulf was the vast empty area of interstellar space which separates two of the galaxies spiral arms. RIP travel across the Gulf was notoriously difficult as it became difficult to navigate.
"Isn't most of the galaxy former Terran colonies that are currently in rebellion?" Junebug asked, amused insipte of the gravity of the situation. York smirked at that.
"Terra dosent care about most of her former colonies. You are all too small and to dependant on Terran tech to be a threat, you can be snapped up in due course if the central command deems it necessary."
"But you do care about this Chalcedon League?" Sayeeda pressed as they reached the bay where the Highlander sat. Woods was waving a half dozen Terrans in battle armor up a ramp onto the ship while Neil appeared to be trying to load some sort of hauler. Junebug hadn't been avoiding him since Taya had told her about his date with Woods but she hadn't had much contact with him either to know what he was doing.
"Some colonies are more important than others," York said, his tone grudging but not quite confirmatory.
"So why did they show up here then?" Sayeeda demanded, "This is hardly the Terran heartland."
York rode the bucking deck plates without apparent difficulty. He looked mildly irritated with the situation but not alarmed.
"I suspect they are here to claim the Ancient tech for themselves…" Something slammed into the ship with the force of planets colliding. The lights in the hangar bay went dark for a moment and then lit again. One of the enemy ships had hit the Sky but the shields must have held.
"Brace for a jump!" an authoritative voice called over the public address system. Reality shuddered like jelly as the November Sky jumped into the RIP.
"Extraction!" the same voice declared and the warship stuttered back into reality, its weapons opening up immediately. Quick in and outs were a Terran Navy speciality. It was hard on the crew and the ship but a vessel that was willing to accept the stresses of a series of micro jumps could displace millions of miles in seconds, allowing them to avoid patterns of enemy fire and launch ordnance from new and unexpected angles.
York and Junebug ran up the ramp to join the rest of the team. Neil and Taya were already in the cockpit. Woods, Saxon, Sven and a half dozen marines were strapping in to makeshift crash harnesses that had been attached to the walls. A trimly attractive marine with the name 'Ragan' stenciled across the front of his armor slapped the closure switch as the captain and the spy climbed aboard.
"Compliment full sir, all aboard!" he called out of the shattering din of weapons fire. Woods nodded.
"Clear to lift!" her voice said over the comm net, sounding in Junebug's mastoid implant as clearly as if the woman was standing next to her.
"Belay that," York said calmly, "Stand by for…"
"Brace for a jump!" The ship slid greasily back into the rip and then extracted a moment later. It felt to Junebug as though her skin were being peeled back and hot irons run over her muscles.
"Launch," York declared calmly.
The Highlander burst from the launch bay over the north pole of the planet. It was an insanely risky jump on behalf of the Captain of the November Sky, the ship could easily have been destroyed if he misjudged currents by even a small margin. Junebug climbed into the captain seat above and behind Neil and strapped herself in. Taya smiled at her nervously from her own console. Above them the massive bulk of the November Sky flickered and vanished into the RIP.
Junebug looked at her tactical plot forcing her mind to make sense of the complicated array of dots and vectors. The jump had carried them clear of the major engagement zone where fighters and bombers from both the small fleet of Chalcedons and the November Sky were engaging. It also put the planet between them and the major capital ships. Unfortunately there was no way they could avoid the wing of interceptors that was rising from the equator towards them. Speaking of the equator…
"What is that?" Taya asked point a finger towards the middle of Saavran, a massive area, hundreds or thousands of square kilometers to be visible from orbit, glowed with fire and magma. The oceans rippled and vast clouds of water vapour filled the sky. Ejecta reached into orbit in long ribbons. As the watched white flashes appeared on the surface, spewing more material skyward.
"That was Site Alpha," York declared calmly as he climbed up into the cockpit area.
"The Chalcedon's are striking it with mass drivers." Sayeeda found herself momentarily speechless. Saavran was no one's idea of a tourist spot, but there had to have been hundreds of thousands of people living in and around the equatorial port, which was certainly part of the incinerated area.
"Fortunately they are either unaware of Site Beta or hadn't had a chance to …" Alarms began to beep as the incoming fighters began to paint the ship with their sensors. Junebug reached down and bought up her weapons display.
"Let us hope Mr Edwards is as good as he thinks he is…"</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil was not unused to space flight (obviously), but jumping in and out of the RIP so many times made him feel as if his soul was taken out and stretched. His skin still crawled and he gripped the handle on the Highlander tightly with the unconscious nerves he had in his head. Leaving the RIP multiple times was something he wouldn't wish on anyone. Ok, maybe Aiden. But other than him.
Once everyone was seat and they were shot out into orbit, Neil release the stabilizers and placed in the 3.19 Algorithm, the freely spinning ship now catching itself in the void and speeding towards the planet amid a hailstorm of lasfire. Once Neil put on the display of the planet, he saw what everyone else saw. A sea of fire and ground upheaval across the belt of the planet. "Well, I wasn't expecting that." Neil said, then turned to York.
"Where the hell do you get your intel anyway?"
"Agents on the ground and satellite ships."
"Well they were not doing their job, this time." Neil replied, cranking up the sub-light engines and increasing the energy payload in the thrusters. Taya gripped the arms of her seat in anticipation, one of the laser coming perilously close to the Highlander. She and Sayeeda had seen Neil at work enough to know what was coming.
"Thank you for flying with Firestorm airlines. If you need to go to the restroom it's already too late, sit down and shut up." Neil said, as if reciting a written statement. The Highlander burst out of outer area and sped into orbit, Neil furiously placing in algorithms and steering freehandedly as the ship display spun and jerked.
"Multiple projectiles in sectors alpha, beta-!" Lonney called.
"I know!" Neil replied, and pulled back on a lever that looked suspiciously like a terrestrial ground vehicle's parking brake, and sure enough the Highlander jerked suddenly, causing everyone to get pulled forward before laying back in their seats. An explosion rocked the void in what was probably kilometers away, but seemed as if it was just next to them. Neil pulled a line down and power surged further into the Highlander. "I need more of the Auxiliary, Lonney. Oh and, give me some music too."
A background noise that sounded like a grating pipe suddenly turned into a guitar riff, and Neil grinned as the Highlander arced over a Chalcedon frigate. Even over the song, a loud beeping was evident. Neil looked at the radar and realized there were missiles on their tail.
"Is that classical music?" Woods asked over the comm, bemused.
"Everyone keeps saying that. This shit is new on Fortus." He replied touchily, and the troopers that now manned the lower guns of the Highlander shot down the initial missile barrage before Neil had to duck and weave past two others. The planet Saavran now loomed before them. Neil turned the ship downward, and sped straight forward into the equatorial firestorm. "Neil!" Taya screeched. Even York seemed a bit perturbed.
"They are not heat seeking missiles." York said to him.
It was too late. Neil had plunged into the flames at 10,000 kilomters per second, only to shoot up before engulfing the ship in magma. Even the void shields were nearly destroyed. But luckily once they crested the fire, the missiles were now confirmed gone. "No, but the plasma used in the mass drivers that accumulate in the fire should do the trick."</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The Highlander rose out of the sea of flame by only a few dozen meters, trailing whisps of smoke from the tips of its wings. With the instinct of a combat commander Junebug slapped the weapons lockout circuit taking the Highlander's guns offline before the enthusiastic marines could continue firing. A dozen red warnings blasted across her screen but she silenced them with a tap of her fingertips. Neil wove them among falling torrents of ejecta, keeping them masked from the sensors of their pursuers. Junebug's instinct told her that the enemy fighters had written them off as dead, particularly as there was a real battle to fight with the November Sky and her squadrons.
For a few seconds there was relative silence save for a few alarms which couldn't be easily silenced, the steady ping of gravel and rocks against the hull and surviving shields, and Niel's music. Junebug took her hands somewhat gingerly from her controls and heard Woods blow out a breath that they were all feel.
"That was fucking insane," the Marine said with a look of incredulity at Niel. THe pilot was whistling along to his music and had put his feet up on the console, lazily flicking the controls to put the Highlander into a slow spin the slid her past some falling debris.
"You aint seen nothing yet," Neil responded with a smirk.
The atmospheric debris thinned as they streaked south towards the south pole, though the seas below still roiled with the seismic shocks that the planet had adsorbed. The planet, according to the sensors had enough airborne debris to send it into a moderate to severe nuclear winter. There had been no new impacts since the Terran warship had jumped in system however as all the Chalcedon ships had turned their attention to the newcomer, content to finish their bombardment once the threat had been neutralized.
It was hard for Sayeeda not to feel anger at the Chalcedons for such a tactic but then she had certainly firebombed forests, called in artillery with lethal payloads of defoliant chemicals and other environmental catastrophes and she had no doubt that if York thought bombing Saavran would fulfil Terran aims he would do the same thing. Except it wasn't the Terrans doing this. Why were the Chalcedons doing it? And if they were willing to go this far to deny whatever secrets where here to the Terrans, should she really be helping them.
"Coming up on Site Beta boys and girls," she said unstrapping and standing up. She pulled her helmet down and adjusted the fit, thumbing the familiar settings into place to give herself a 20 percent tactical overlay. York was smirking as though some cosmic joke were about to unfold.
"Lets lock and load."</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug felt the crunch of permafrost beneath her feet as she took her place in the line of soldiers as they advance towards the wall of snow draped pine trees. Her terran undersuit turned white but her own ceramic breastplate remained steadfastly tan. The trusty old armor was mottled with ceramic patching from a dozen minor mishaps and it clashed sufficiently to make her stand out among the group. She looked at the unarmored York and grinned. York's expression was strangely guarded as though he expected some reaction from her, but raised a questioning eyebrow.
"I was just thinking how glad I am to have someone like you along," she confided with a ghost of a smile.
"Why is that Captain?"
"You are a more obvious target for snipers than me." York laughed in amusement at the notion, a sound that drew a concerned glance from Woods and several of the nearby soldiers.
"I don't think that any guardians the Ancient's left in this place are likely to be using modern scout sniper training," York said, his tone conceding the point to her even though the words refuted it.
"Hey it is your life," she said before knuckling her chest plate, "and mine I guess." York nodded equiabley. Ahead of them one of the soldiers looked up from his scanner and held up a fist in what Sayeeda presumed was the Terran field signal for halt. The line of soldiers stopped within a second or so, crouching down to make themselves as small targets as was possible.
"Why didn't you take the body armor we provided?" the intelligence officer asked after a moment. Junebug shrugged and was silent for a moment before responding.
"I guess i've lived this long with my own equipment, why take the chance right?" York laughed again earning an irritated glance from Woods who would apparently have preferred silence.
"Superstitious Captain?"
"It has worked so far," she repeated. The soldier with the scanner reached into an ammunition pouch and withdrew a small object that turned out to be a portable luminator, an electric kind rather than the chemical types Junebug was familiar with. He thumbed the unit live and tossed it like a grenade towards the trees. The glowing ball sailed in an arc towards the pines, and then, suddenly flickered out and fell dead into the snow. Junebug's helmet, familiar with the effect from previous Terran data drew a holographic redline across the snowy landscape at the projected location of the barrier.
"Mr Edwards," York said over the commlink, "Its time to see if they will open up when you knock on the door."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
A few of the strike team seemed uneasy by the way they stood, even if their faces were neutral and hardset. If Neil hadn't already worked with soldiers in the past, he wouldn't have noticed. But he did, and he couldn't blame them. "Oh, it's my party now?" he asked audibly, then stepped forward, feeling the ice particles beneath him crunching until he made it to where the the grenade had fallen short. He held out his right hand.
Nothing.
"Other hand." Junebug seethed.
"Oh yeah." Neil replied, and held out his left hand.
The grenade detonated.
The group crouched and held their hands in front of their faces, though they were too far off to be effected. If Neil had been standing 10 feet to the right, he would have been consumed, but miraculously he was ok, other than a few scratches from the smallest bits of shrapnel, and a ruddiness to his right side having felt a sudden, intense heat. He lay face first in the snow. Woods and Taya rushed over to him, the soldier woman aiming her rifle at the woods as she knelt down by Neil, and Taya shook him. "Neil, are you ok?"
He lifted his head, a bit cut but alright. "I guess we know that the technology works now." he deadpanned.
Saxon growled, as if disappointed that Neil was still alive. In all probability, he was disappointed. York shook his head, though he did have a smile on his lips. The light hearted feeling of the group, and the success of the tattoo, was short lived. It was replaced with fear and wonder as the earth beneath them began to shake for a few, heart pounding seconds before a shape began ascending from the ground not a dozen paces north of them. A vast shape, as large as the Highlander, that split and lifted the tall pines. Small Xenos animals began scurrying away into the dark recesses of the forest in shock and fear.
Lights, both red, white, and green, began to flicker from the smooth, impossibly smooth, multifaceted building that surfaced, and a large red scan began to filter down across the group. Woods quickly grabbed Neil's hand and held it out, and when the scanner motioned over it, a door, the shape of half an oval, opened up from the center. Everyone stopped for a moment, unsure of what to do. Even Sven, the near emotionless cyborg, gaped in awe as he drank in the sight, as if he could sense the level of technology that dwarfed all that he had yet seen in this life.
Neil gathered himself up, dusting the snow off of him and helping Taya up. He took out his heavy caliber revolver. "Well, I'm ready when you're ready."</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug watched in amazement as the door irised open before them. Inside was a strange swirling opalescence like the surface of a soap bubble but opaque to the eye. She looked dubiously at the holographic line that her helmet had projected as the limit of the shield. She moved forward cautiously while the Terrans hunkered down pointing weapons at the building, though what threat they thought would emerge from it she had no idea.
Reaching the projected limit of the shield she took a small ultraviolet marking beacon, a flat cylinder the size of her palm and tumbed it on before tossing it like a discus. The plastic unit bounced off the wall of the newly risen building and fell to the snow. A continual strobe of ultraviolet light pulsed from the unit, clearly visible to her helmet which was set to carrot such things.
"Looks like the tech shield is down entirely," she called back to the Terrans and without another word stepped across the threshold. Absolutely nothing happened, whether temporarily or permanently, it seemed that the defences that had protected this place were down. She trudged the thirty meters to the wall and retrieved the beacon, turning it off and clipping it to her belt. The rest of the party was moving cautiously forward, even Sven who had more reason to fear technological disruption than the rest of them.
Junebug moved to the portal and unslung her Terran plasma rifle. Holding it by the grip like a vast pistol she slid it into the opalescent portal so that the rubberized eyepiece of the optical sight was on the outside but the end of the lens was on the inside. Rather than crouching down to look through the sight directly, she touched a button on the stock of the weapon that remoted the sight picture to her helmet. It was a technique which was occasionally useful for shooting from positions where you didn't dare stick your head up, but more frequently used by command staff to view what their troopers were seeing. The sight picture opened in her helmet in a small window in the upper right corner.
"Whoa," she breathed and stepped through the portal vanishing from sight.
Junebug stood at the edge of a vast city of bone white monoliths. At least her mind told her it was a city even though none of the 'buildings' had any recognisable function. The portal still shimmered behind her, set into a large lintel of the same cream white material. Here and there ancient and twisted trees coiled towards the sky in odd spiral shapes, their bark curiously rough in a place where everything was so smooth. The air above her head was filled with hundreds, or thousands of what appeared to be floating leaves of pale blue, though they bore no resemblance to the foliage of the trees and were completely independent of any kind of support. The volume of space here couldn't possibly fit into the entryway she had come through. Looking up she saw that the sky above was completely black, lacking any visible stars.
Curiously she flicked her helmet selector to through its various modes, thermal revealed nothing other than that the place was of an unusually uniform 25.3 degrees but the return on the lidar was so chaotic and fragmented that the helmet display crashed back to regular viewing with a trailing stream of red error messages. The movements sensors too were going crazy. Although the blue leaves, or whatever they were, appeared stationary they must have been moving enough to trip the motion detection program. The atmosphere sensors reported breathable, if slightly too oxygen rich, air so she pulled off her helmet.
There was a slight movement behind her as one of the Terran commandos stepped halfway through the portal. The man, Rosenant she thought his name was, paused halfway through the portal, giving the distinct impression of being cut in half. He stuck his head back through the portal and then stepped fully through. A moment later York appeared, snowflakes still decorating his hair and an irritated expression on his face.
"Captain Cyckali, did it occur to you that the environment here might be animical to human life?" he asked acidly. Junebug shrugged her shoulders.
"The bunker wasn't and nothing in the old records suggested humans and ancients had different metabolic requirements," she said her smile hardening as she continued to speak. No doubt the Terrans had drones and other such equipment which they would have used before sending anyone through the doors.
"Besides you can fuck around on your own time, the sooner we are done with this the sooner my crew and I can be on our way."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"You are on our time until we see your service through." York reminded her.
Neil poked his head through next, looking like a body-less head floating in the iridescent portal. York thought it looked very much like Mr. Edwards on the chopping block, and judging by the way the Captain Cykali had been angered earlier, he did not know if it was an echo of things to come. Neil moved his hand through next, and then his entire body. He grinned at himself, feeling, knowing he was completely fine. He poked his head back out to tell Taya and the others, and soon the rest of them stepped through.
Tentatively, they moved forward, spreading out in a loose, skirmish formation as they lowered themselves into the sloping 'jungle' of whatever these constructs or materials were. Even Saxon stepped with caution. His race was older than that of the human's, and though they did not know the Ancient Ones well, they were recorded in their histories from antiquity, rather than being cordoned off as myth by the younger races. He was now stepping back in time, to those who had integrated and mentored his Ancestor Gods.
Neil watched Sven run his hand over one of the monoliths, a very human gesture, though no doubt filled with calculations beyond measure. "Harder than steel," he croaked, examining the material. "Less ductile, and lighter, if my scans are correct. But far harder, and able to..." He stopped, and blinked, as if he what he was going to say, but he had run into a mechanism that blocked something harmful or overwhelming to his senses.
"Now what?" Woods asked, her gun up and ready. Her team's locations were on the HUD of her tactical helmet, spreading out further as they explored the vast room. There had to be an end to it, but it already defied physics judging from the space they now traversed. What if there was no end?
"Mr. Edwards, if you would kindly step forward with me." York said, hailing Neil to him. Taya stuck close to York and Sayeeda already, and Neil moved from his examination of the monolith with Sven to report for duty. Though as he approached the center lane, his hand began to pulsate feebly, and he felt strange. A sensation he had felt before but...not like this. He suddenly felt as if he had a biological need to move forward, not by York's orders. But something greater. Deeper. Like a hunger, or even a sexual appetite.
He moved forward then, his irises growing larger in his dark eyes, unable to pull himself from the teasing call he received in his mind. York began to speak to him, and then attempted to halt him. But Neil could no longer hear him. Instead he moved forward, enthralled to the call that flowed through his very being, the catalyst of which was his hand.
It was at that moment, that Woods noticed two of her men had disappeared from the HUD.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Cambre? Khan? Report," Woods called, every member of the small team paused and scanned as if expecting to see the two men even though they had vanished from sensors more advanced than human eyes by an order of magnitude. Woods scrolled back throught the sensor logs before looking at York with a worried expression.
"Nothing, it looks like they were there one minute and gone the next..."
Junebug moved closer to Taya, as though by her presence might protect the girl. Taya wore borried body armor but it clearly had been intended for medics or other support personnel rather than front line troops. A side arm was belted to her hip but right now all she was holding was a multiphase scanner unit many times more powerful than those that the helmets used.
"I dont see anything but there is an odd... disturbance in the air flow," Taya reported glancing skywards at the odd floating leaves. Junebug tracked the glance with her rifle but saw nothing to alarm her.
"It looks as if they should be moving, but they are not..."
"Sir," Woods called, "We need to search for our people." York looked around as though vexed.
"Ok everyone stay in visual range, skirmish line with five meter intervals, keep everyone in visual," he commanded. The soldiers spread out as best they could into a ragged line.
"Are we just going to wander blindly or..." Junebug began but York cut her off.
"Previous ancient sites we have surveyed tend to be organized around a central hub. The curve of the wall here can be used to suggest the center," York explained. Junebug couln't imagine he was much of an archaeologist but he had clearly read the field reports of those who did have the specialist knowledge.
"Mr Edwards will lead us with his magic hand," York added as he fell into his own position with the line. A directional line appeared on Junebug's helmet, leading deeper into the strange cityscape. She gudied Taya next to Neil, reasoning his presence was the best gaurntee of safety they had.
"Lets move out!"</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda didn't have the same sort of experience with starships that Neil did, but she did have strong survival instincts. Everything screamed to her that, if they didn't get out of this system in the next few minutes, they weren't getting out at all. The Highlander probably wouldn't survive a RIP jump in any case, judging by the damage they had taken back on Saavran. Or the planet formerly known as Saavran. Junebug wondered if the sleeping thing would have woken up if the Chalcedon's hadn't bombarded it.
"Steer for the Sky," she called to Neil to which York nodded emphatically. The Highlander curved gracefully into the hangar bay and the moment they cleared the magnetic shield the ship leaped into the RIP. Sayeeda's mind filled momentarily with spiraling neon designs which extended to the infinite without losing resolution. For a moment she hovered on the edge of madness and then she was back in the Highlander as it set down on the deck. The captain had taken a risk jumping while they were still airborne. If Neil had gone into a spastic fit they might have wrecked the freighter, but even that would be a small price in the mind of the battered warships captain.
"You have done a great thing for humanity today," York said smugly as they all walked shakily down the gangplank. A squad of marines in full combat gear was waiting for them and Sayeeda didn't get the impression that they were an honor guard. York stepped over to them and turned with an apologetic smile.
"Unfortunately… we cannot allow Mr Edwards to depart, that tattoo of his might be the key to more knowledge than we can imagine." Junebug stiffened at the words, although part of her had expected them, a mercenary always hopes that the contract will be honored, even when her guts told her otherwise.
"You are free to take the rest of your people and leave Mistress Cyckali, with the thanks of Terra and a hundred thousand credits in compensation," York declared magnanimously. Woods stepped off to the side clearly intending to cover Junebug incase she decided to do anything stupid. Junebug glanced at the marine and lowered her rifle, Neil shot her a look of mute betrayal. Junebug sighed heavily. She didn't know if Sven or Saxon would back her up and Taya looked terrified beyond words. The smart thing would be to leave Neil and go. She would have full rights to the Highlander then and she and Taya could probably pilot well enough until they could hire on another spacer as a helmsman.
"It is Captain Cyckali," she said in a flat voice and she was suddenly moving. With her off hand she cast her plasma rifle at Woods as an improvised missile and whipped a hand out from behind her back Neil's old style revolver in her fist. She had taken it from him when he started acting weird back in the temple in case he tried something when he wasn't in his right mind. The marines were expecting something, but they were so shocked by so suicidal an action that they hesitated for a fraction of a second. She shot York in the chest, the bullet smashing the disk in his breast pocket. Taya screamed and threw herself back towards the boarding ramp as half a dozen weapons opened fire. Junebug dove towards Woods, placing a second shot into a bandolier of grenades one of the marines wore. The hangar erupted in white fire as the bullet punched into the flash bangs, gang firing the whole bandolier and sending the charred remains of the marine smashing into a nearby cargo container. Junebug hit Woods around the waist, sending the woman sprawling.
The Terran was no newcomer to hand to hand but there was literally nothing you could do when two hundred pounds of body armor hit you at full speed. The tumbled along the deck in a ruck. Junebug struck at Woods face with a flat palm but the Terran caught the blow and twisted into a throw. Gunfire chattered deafeningly as Sayeeda spun over Woods shoulder, catching a grip of her backpack and slamming the Marine into the ground. Junebug kicked her in the hip, using the motion to shove herself away from Woods, trying to clear enough space to use the pistol, but the other woman rolled with the blow, skidding behind one of the lowboys that transported heavy equipment. Even though she didn't have a shot Junebug put a round into the vehicle before firing the remainder of the clip into the marines more or less at Random.
The soldiers were dragging the stricken body of York backwards towards one of the armored hatches. It was only the shock of attack and the flashbangs that had kept them alive so far. Junebug knew that in another heartbeat they would cut down the Highlander's crew in flurry of rifle fire. Woods was rising from behind her cover to line up a kill shot on Junebug. Screaming a curse Junebug swung Neil's pistol to bear and pulled the trigger. The final round cracked out and there was a sudden electrical discharge that painted the hangar with couscating static sparks. The bullet hit an invisible surface halfway between Junebug and Woods and dropped to the floor with a clang. Fire from a dozen weapons clattered into the same invisible barrier, limbing it with blue fire and revealing a cylindrical disc around the highlander. Junebug could only stare in wonder as bullets bounded to the deck and plasma bolts spattered impotently across the protective barrier. Taya had activated the Highlander's void shield inside the hangar. That was an insanely dangerous choice that might have just as easily killed everyone in the hangar in a massive generator failure. Well as they said in the Armored - Any one you walk away from.
"HA!" Junebug crowed and turned to dash towards the Highlanders landing ramp. There was a hollow boom behind her as one of the soldiers fired a shoulder mounted rocket into the shield, though he needn't have bothered, the Highlander's shields were built to take fire from another ship and there wasn't much a man could carry that packed that kind of firepower.
"Junebug we have maybe five seconds before the shield fails!" came Taya's voice tinny and terrified.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil reached for his gun right after Junebug shot York with his pistol, only realizing after the fact that she had his fucking gun. Well, it couldn't be helped. The pilot might not be nearly as well trained in hand to hand as Junebug or Woods, but he had basic training down and was scrappy, and while York was close to superhuman levels of physical capabilities, he had just been shot with a large caliber bullet. Neil spun acrobatically and launched out with both of his feet in a drop kick, hitting York in the chest to add insult to literal injury. The sophisticated man cried out in pain and clutched his chest from the blow that had been struck into the bullet wound.
Neil caught himself with his hands, landing apeishly into a crouch. He just barely dived into the shield in time before the lasbeams and bullets began to ricochet off the void fields. Neil hit the ground in another roll, only to slam into the trunk-like limbs of Saxon, who looked down at him as if he was a particularly large shit he had just stepped in. "Your doing, I imagine." he rumbled, and to Neil it truly did look like he was contemplating on stepping on the lithe pilot. Neil shook his head emphatically.
"Not this time." He assured him with a grin. "Other times, yes. But this time, I didn't shoot first."
The growling continued for a few moments before it fadded off, and then a very human-like sigh escaped his mandibles. The Hexanagallion then began to access the small console within his armor at the wrist, and a small compartment raised up from above his massive hand. Neil heard air being sucked into the strange compartment before it launched its payload; a wrist mounted rocket. It sailed out of the void shield and detonated at the feet of the marine's, killing four and wounding several others.
"Don't stick around too long big guy, we're needing to get the fuck out of here." Neil said, scrambling to his feet and sprinting into the open cargo bay door. Saxon didn't respond, but he retreated nonetheless as he launched a volley of fletchlette rounds into the marines, who were leaping into cover and still firing just in case a few rounds pierced the shield, however unlikely that was. Neil passed Sven, who was simply doing his best to fix the parts of the Highlander that needed patching up.
"I'm glad I don't have to do two things at once like usual." Neil said to himself as he vaulted over a workshop table and slid into the cockpit access corridor. He hit the pilot seat hard and began to set the systems to go, calculating and working furiously. Thank Gideon, Sven had fixed the ship at least well enough to where it wouldn't detonate on impact, but Neil needed to still get things just right because going into the R.I.P. while already into the R.I.P. was probably the most risky thing one wanted to do in a ship.
When he saw that all were aboard, Neil revved the engine up and set the coordinates. The screen of the hanger bay appeared, and he saw Woods checking York on the ground, helping him up. Neil took a moment to watch her, before he pushed the image away and groaned. "Another one bites the dust." he said, and he hit the launch sequence. Within moments, the ship would tear a hole through the fabric of reality at the far end of the hanger and disappear into the void.
Neil felt as if his soul and nervous system were being tugged in two opposite directions, and he screamed as the ship tore through anotherarea of the R.I.P. He didn't even have air to warn the others to strap in. They simply were gone, and flew into the unknown.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The Highlander shuddered out of the RIP gracelessly. Junebug felt the hull torque as the insertion charge dispersed unevenly and she held her breath for long moments until it became clear that the freighter wasn't going to break up entirely. This time at least she hardly noticed the discomfort of dropping out of the RIP.
"Alright someone tell me we aren't all going to starve to death?" she said, her implant transmitting to all receivers that hadn't made a point of blocking her. Currently Junebug was wedged into one of the access crawlspaces, wedged in tight with a nest of wiring conduits and junction boxes. The space was too tight for her helmet so she had borrowed, stolen really, a pair of glasses from Neils tool box. The glasses didn't have the range of inputs her helmet had but they did allow her to link to the Highlander's database and to read basic electronic information from the circuits she observed. She had been in the process of troubleshooting a sort that was preventing the power cells from draining evenly. The problem was that each burnt out chip she found only lead to another burnt out chip, each sequentially fried by the surge when the ship had hit the alien shield.
It had been three days since they fled the November Sky. Exiting a ship already in the RIP had been risky but the Highlander had managed to extract into real space long enough for them to jury rig the power cells and take star sights. The sights only gave them a forty percent likelihood of an accurate fix on their position even with Savran as a reference point. The best they had been able to do was point themselves vaguely in the direction of civilization and jump again before the Terran cruiser could return and snatch them up.
"Well it ain't exactly Gremadine, but I think it's settled," Neil shouted, his voice unaided by communications gear. The thumping beat of his repulsive music echoed up the shaft from the cockpit. SHe had no idea what or where Gremadine was but she took his meaning. They hadn't talked much since they made their escape, they hadn't had time, even with all five of them working they had only just managed to keep the half crippled ship together long enough to take another star sight which suggested a likely settled world and make a last ditch jump. Sayeeda hadn't been kidding, if this world was uninhabited and there was a very real possibility the Highlander would never be able to leave it.
Surprisingly Saxon had found his way into her company more frequently than Neil did. The lizard alien seemed to be making a point of it, though Sayeeda couldn't imagine why. He made a few cryptic comments about her being cold which seemed a positive change from his usual threats against Neils life but the change still left her baffled. Junebug pulled a screwdriver from her belt and worked free the fried chip with a click. She removed a chip from her pouch and held it up in front of her goggles, allowing the computer to confirm it was the right unit for the job before slotting it into place. The chip flashed green as the built in ameteres registered the connection was good.
"Alright," she said, wiping her sweaty face on the shoulder strap off her tank top and then slithering her way back to the access port above the cockpit. With lithe grace she dropped through the port and landed on both feet and one hand just behind the pilot's seat. Neil must have expected the movement because he didn't jump or react other than to make a gesture at the forward view screen. The planet before them was largely arrid, mostly desert except for a few unenthusiastic strips of greenish gray near an unhealthy looking equatorial ocean.
"Sensors show habitation," Taya chimed in from her customary seat.
"Lony says there are even ionization tracks that indicate starship landings, though it doesn't look like they get a ton of visitors." As the girl spoke long curving arcs appeared on the view screen with estimated times of the tracks. The most recent vector was over two weeks old. There didn't seem to Junebug to be any pattern to them other than they all ended in broad canyons that criss crossed the desert.
"Any radio traffic?" she asked Neil.
"This dirtball have a name?"</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"If it's so dangerous, why do people keep looking for the treasure?" Neil asked Amir before the man could depart. He spun and chortled at the question, holding his plump belly much akin to a beached seal. "Oh! The Treasure is likely real enough. But it lies across the desert of Rimbala, where the Dune Serpents dwell. You cannot find it in a space ship, no. Rumor says it lies in canyons of rock and obsidian, and even greater dangers lurk there!"
"Why do you say it's real?" Taya asked, eyes round as saucers, her hands curled into fists of excitement, pressing to her lips as she looked to the man.
"Oh, Hahn was founded by thieves!" He exclaimed. "The story goes that the famous thief Hutan Shah stole a treasure ship from the Imperium centuries ago and crashed here, though he was taken and devoured by the denizens of the Rimbala crags. Ever since, men and Xenos have come to look for it. But they all die, yes they do! Trade is far safer and more lucrative, anyway. Why go treasure seeking when you can make credits here and sit on your butt, eh?"
"Maybe we're just adrenaline junkies." Neil said, and though Amir laughed, Junebug and Taya could tell Neil was telling the truth. "Amir, I would like to find a place to stay in the city. Could you help me with that?" Neil asked, and to his surprised Junebug stepped forward and said she would join him, a look in her eye that showed she was spoiling for something rough no matter what that meant.
"Oh yes, my friends! Go and find my contact Salim Daleeb in the center of town. You cannot miss him. He is the one with the pink turban. Housing, maps, food, delectable music or company. He will explain everything." Amir said, giving a big smile and waving them off with a friendly gesture. That answer satisfied Neil.
"I think I'll stay with the ship." Taya said, drawing confused looks from the other two. Neil furrowed his brow. "I thought you were scared of Saxon." he said. She nodded. "I am, but less so now that I know all he wants to kill is you." The look on Neil's face was beyond humorous to Taya, and she laughed. "Also, I have Lonney there and I can watch the ship and keep it locked. You guys don't get into too much trouble."
Junebug grinned and Neil looked unconvinced at their ability to follow that advice.
---
"Yes yes, what you need, Salim Daleeb got! Because Salim Daleeb is the greatest merchant in the quadrant, I do be do, be he!" the extravagantly dressed man exclaimed, his Pink turban like a beacon amid the crowd, even with how short the man was. His vest was bright crimson and blue, and when he smiled, they could see every other tooth was made of either gold or ivory. "Special sale today! Maps, maps, map! Come and get the maps of the Rimbala desert!"
Neil didn't know why the man was acting as if he had a crowd. Only he and Junebug were there, the woman still on edge and looking as if she wanted to shoot him or make trouble. Neil raised an eyebrow, nodding as if to exude 'why not' and he said. "Sure, we'll take a map. That and we need a room."
"A room? Travelers yes? Supplies do you need?" he said, his interest twinkling in his mad eyes. He smiled widely, looking the two up and down like a jackal surveying the carrion. "What of parts for a ship, or do you need a new one? A two bath or one bath, two beds or one? Will you wish the service of a eunech slave or shall I-"
Junebug grabbed the man by the throat, shutting off his tirade and lifting him up to her height, her eyes boring into his with barely suppressed energy. He grabbed at her wrist, unable to properly speak. She gave a smile that showed her teeth. "Will you allow us to speak?" she asked him. He nodded hurriedly, as energetic in his silence as he was in his babbling. On the bright side, after that show of force they had very little trouble in haggling with him, and he wished to be done with them by the end, so low were the prices that were now set. The map had been uploaded to the Highlander before the sun had set.
Down three dusty roads, past carts being moved by unknown, horned beasts of burden that looked like a spliced crossbreed between a large lizard and an oxen, and into an alleyway with dried blood on the wall, smeared and scattered like the wound of a slug autogun shot where the exit wound was far larger than the entrance one. Two doors down was the apartment that they apparently had for the next few says. The door looked simple enough, thin wood with various cuts across it, attached to a wall of hardened clay and mortar.
Inside, it looked far cozier than what they had expected. It was no Palace, but the red carpet on the floor was quite soft, with a comfortable bed in the main bedroom and a guestroom across the hall. The living quarters held a stocked kitchen, though the food was likely very bland and the water less than filtered. There was even a run down, archaic looking console that Neil knew how to handle, and could even contact the Highlander in case the need arose.
Junebug still looked fired up, her fists clenching and unclenching. "No trouble all day." Junebug sighed. Neil looked at her, and he realized he needed to let out some energy too. He suddenly pushed her. "You are really tense." He laughed, after he had placed his items down. "You know we haven't tussled since Aiden's." he said, and he leapt back, lifting his fist in a guard position, ducking and weaving to further emphasize the point. "Yeah?" The room was far less stuffy than the Highlander, and the carpet was still noticeably very soft. "No?"
He stopped. "Wait...was it Aidens?"</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug laughed and swatted at Neil half heartedly. The pilot danced back evading the blow without effort and continuing to duck and weave dramatically. She crossed to a small side board of hand carved rosewood. The piece was very impressive, clearly old and hand carved, it would have fetched a fine price on more civilized worlds where art had more value than the merely utilitarian. She opened the cabinet and lifted out a dark green bottle with a long neck and a spherical bulb for a bottom. She pulled the cork and sniffed it, it was sharp, acrid and clearly alcoholic. She tossed the bottle to Neil who snagged it from the air with characteristic grace, then retrieve a second bottle, this one squarish with a glass stopper and took a long drink from the neck. The bottles were sufficiently fancy that she could at least hope they didn't turn out to be furniture polish.
The afternoon was beginning to fade to evening and the first of Hahn's three moons was rising in the west. The heat, baked into the rocks by the days sun, had yet to fade though a cool breeze was blowing now that made it seem ten degrees cooler. She started out of the elaborately arched window, watching the crowds flow back and forth, the locals seemed to be heading towards evening meals and the spacers were as chaotic as ever. She wanted another cigar even though that meant spending a cycle in the medicomp to repair her lung capacity. Perhaps once it was full dark they would go out and see what they could find.
"A lot of shit went down," she said forthrightly turning to look at Neil who had ceased capering and was sniffing suspiciously at his own bottle.
"You have yet to tell me the story with Saxon and Sven, and we should figure out what we are going to do with them." Junebug didn't doubt that they could abandon the pair on Hahn when they were ready to go but she wasn't sure what Neil wanted to do.
"We have repairs to make on the ship and we have almost no money," Junebug went on. She wasn't exactly worried about that, people with weapons and the will to use them seldom went hungry, but it was something to think about.
"Then there are the Terrans and everything that happened with that," she deliberately didn't mention Woods or the fact that they probably had a massive bounty on their heads. She dimly regretted not launching a couple of torpedos inside the hangar of the November Sky, but there hadn't been time to think about it at the time.
"I…" she trailed off, uncertain of how to proceed, then took a drink and forged ahead.
"I ran myself through the medicomp shortly after we got away, my cortisol and epinephrine is way up and i've added muscle mass. My synapses are ten percent above the last scan I had before Dar'mond too. I think the Terrans did something to me while I was in their med bay but the medicomp doesn't know what. I feel hyped up, like all the fucking time." That wasn't the only thing, her emotional control wasn't as sharp as she would like, but there was no reason to worry Neil more than she had too. Shaking her head, she took another swallow of the liquor. It was way too sweet, as seemed to be the custom, maybe they could get some decent booze when they went out also.
"Goddess don't look at me like I'm dying, I just want to tear someone's head off slightly more than usual," she said at the concerned look on Neil's face. Outside came a few scattered cracks of gunfire, though it sounded more like the disorganized fun of a bunch of people with firearms than anything to worry about. Sayeeda made a dismissive gesture with the neck of her bottle.
"Staff meeting alright, we need to get our heads on right and figure out what the fuck we are doing here."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
After Neil had designated that the bottle was not filled with cleaner, he took a few good swigs and decided that the 'balls deep' approach was the way to go. He was not in the mood for being anything but blunt when it came to himself or his wants at the moment, so he simply sat down and drank to his hearts content. Though as he listened to Junebug, he did grow to worry. Apparently it was written clear as day on his face and he chuckled in embarrassment.
"As long as you're ok, and you're not bullshitting to get out of it." he said, pointing a finger at her. "Though you do look a little younger. And you're usually pretty sexy but right now you look sexy as hell. Also I'm going to change the subject now."
"By what you mean with Saxon and Sven, you mean when you were knocked out?" Neil asked. He bit his tongue, remembering that he had announced to himself that he had romantic feelings for Sayeeda, thinking she was dying and wondering why he chose to stay rather than run away from his problems like he often did. He gulped down the last bit of the bottle of...whatever this drink was and he tossed the empty bottle out the window to shatter into the alleyway. It had dried blood and rocks, what was some glass?
"I caught you in the MH-350 before you hit the ground and booked it out of the fight. I went down two alleys, trying to be as careful as I could be with you but...I might have bruised your ribs a bit more." he was sitting forward now, elbows on his knees and hands on his face, rubbing it. "You were out like a light so I put you in the cockpit and I killed our pursuers a bit less gracefully than I usually do. I found Sven and Saxon at the rendezvous point."
"Didn't I get a medi pack? I vaguely remember that." Sayeeda replied.
"Yeah, Saxon gave it to you." Neil said, yawning. She looked at him incredulously, obviously confused on why the Xenos would help her way back then when he was basically still a foe. Neil looked at Junebug and paused. "I um..." he began, trying to find the words. "He knew that the only way I'd move was if you were ok enough to do so too."
He shrugged, leaning back and looking away to defuse the moment. "And that was when Taya called us and told us about the Terrans and, well, you have the rest."
"So," he began, trying to change the subject yet again. By the Gods this woman could shake his entire foundation with only a look. "I say we have one of three options for what we're doing tonight." He still hadn't looked back at her. "We can either steal for money, go treasure hunting, or break the Highlander apart for parts but I'm not for the last option, and I'm thinking you aren't either. So I guess we'll need to brave the dangers of whatever-the-fuck."</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Neil," Sayeeda said with a smile, "we both know that we are going to go treasure hunting." She drained the remainder of the bottle in a single long pull and then tossed it onto the bed. It bounced once and came to rest. There was nothing else in the side board. She felt her face harden.
"And no we aren't going to break the ship up," she said flatly. The Highlander was all she owned in the universe. It represented a decade of mud and blood and death that she had waded through. Friends had died around her, many on her orders, others because she hadn't been quite quick enough or quite good enough. Neil's face had blanked and Sayeeda coughed in embarassment.
"Sorry I was thinking of something else," she cleared her throat.
"Anyway I don't remember much of what happened after I got blown up. Its uhh… less of a new experience than I would like." That was unfortunately true, she had proably used more in discretionary medical spending than most people made in their entire lifetime.
"No what I meant was, you told me that you would fill me in on the backstory with you and Saxon and Sven," she clarified. Her emotions seemed settled now.
"You obviously had dealings in the past, but we are going to need something to drink before you tell me."</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The desert streaked by below them, the rock and sand seeming to glow gold under the bright moonlight. No one spoke so Sayeeda, figuring her ruse would gain her no more information, opened her eyes.
"Where am I? Who are you?" she asked, making a show of tugging at her bonds. The turbaned man was gone, presumably off to do whatever task these men were compelling him to attempt. The city was already vanishing over the horizon. As far as she knew Neil was still back at their rented lodgings, unaware of what had transpired. The armored man, clearly an off worlder, sat beside her, while the local man was in the driver's seat head of them, separated by a sheet of transparent plastic on a metal frame. His skin was bronze from the sun though he had probably been born a paler shade, his head was bald with the recent application of a razor and he kept a goatee that was beginning to get out of control. It gave his already lean head an almost gaunt look. He wore a vest of woven carbon fibre which Junebug translated as 'light infantry' but which she knew probably just meant he was in a dangerous line of work. As kidnapping her certainly was.
"My name is Canek,'' he said pleasantly, "and you are in an air car with me miss…"
"I am Captain Cyckali, what the fuck am I doing here?" Canek relaxed slightly at the words as though she had passed some test she hadn't been aware off.
"Well Captain, you saw me conducting some sensitive business with the Pasha's customs inspector. Given that man was about to soil himself before you showed up, I had to reassure him that you weren't going to be a problem." The man was infuriatingly calm, Junebug tugged at her restraints but they had done a professional job, she wasn't going to get loose of them easily.
"Alright, so I'm not a problem, any chance of dropping me back at my ship? I really don't know or care about anything you have to talk with a customs inspector about."
Canek looked regretful but shook his head.
"Things are very sensitive right now," he said with a glance back towards the fading lights of the canyon city.
"I heard some talk of selling me as a slave," she said, narrowing her eyes.
"Ah not as unconscious as you made out, smart," Canek said with a sharks smile.
"Well I could probably move you I suppose, your pretty enough but your a little old for a harem or a brothel, plus you look like the sort that would be more trouble than they are worth. I don't care if you slit the throat of some fat merchant but who wants the trouble getting back to them?"
"Well you didn't kill me so you must have something in mind,"Sayeeda said arching an eyerow. The air car was circling now, there was a small canyon, barely a fissure in the rocky landscape, the vehicle began to drop towards it. They passed within 30 feet of the rock to where it opened out into a large cave. Inside of which men and women were moving around, some of them servicing vehicles, others operating modern communications equipment. There were several light attack vehicles and a heavier hovertank concealed by tarps and tie down. Canek pulled a knife from his belt and held it up before him. After a moment he sliced through her bonds.
"Well Captain, if you can keep your mouth shut for a few days, I thought I'd offer you a job."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil had made his way out of the smaller alleyways of the city easily enough, traversing through the crowds with a few requisitioned items. He wished it was sunny so he could place on these archaic sunglasses, but alas he'd have to wait until later. That wasn't the important part at the moment anyway.
Neil vaulted over a small sandstone wall, one of the few that stood between him and the open desert. Briefly as he made his way through what he presumed to be people's backyards and private areas, he wondered if he should care that a few of the locals might possibly see a foreign young man trying to make it to the reputably dangerous desert as fast as he could, but he realized he didn't really care. On the last patch of wall he heard an indecipherable call that had to be someone complaining that he was on their property. He paid that no mind as well and simply made it to the sands.
"Ok, haven't done this in awhile." he said, placing the hoverboard on the ground and stepping onto it, aligning his feet just right to fit into the placement grooves. "Alright, now I just need to..." He turned the power on, revving the engine up to 350 pounds of anti-grav pressure upon the sand, and stood up as the board began to hover. He immediately realized he was about to fall backwards and slam into the sand, but the nimble pilot caught himself.
"Yeah that's right bitch." he said, stroking his ego by shit talking an inanimate object that he needed far more than it needed him.
A subtle adjustment of the position of his hips and knees, and the board began to move forward as if riding a wave of air, picking up speed exponentially as Neil leaned forward, hands out and flat to keep himself balanced. If this was an enclosed area, he would be more careful, but the only thing he needed to watch out for here was the rolling dunes that were on the horizon. The ground was relatively flat, and it only took him a short amount of time to pick up the trail of the aircar.
Minutes later, he found large collection of boulders that reached into the sky like a primitive sky scraper or mound, though judging by the way the earth curved inward, there must have been an entrance that led underground. He couldn't see the ripples of sand from the aircar's wake any longer either. "This must be the place." he said, leaning down to shut off the hoverboard. He felt weighted once more, though with a 180* maneuver he spun and landed deftly.
The last thing he expected to see when he peeked in from the dark of the night was Junebug speaking to the one who kidnapped her, unbound. That...made no sense. A part of him wanted to step out now and start firing, but he held himself in check. His curiosity always getting the better of him.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda peered around at the preparations that were underway. It was a small force but larger than any organized unit she had yet seen on Hahn. Certainly it had more firepower. Her interest was drawn naturally to the fighting vehicles and she ached to give them a once over. Instead she folded her arms across her chest. The proximity to military hardware made her miss her armor at a subconscious level.
"So you are just offering jobs to random people who stumble into alleys?" she asked skeptically. Canek shook his head and tapped her shoulder.
"Well I can still kill you or sell you into slavery if you prefer, but no I recognise the tatoo." Junebug glanced unconsciously to her right shoulder where three owls were depicted taking flight. The central bird was darker with the others and its eyes were slightly almond shaped like Junebug's own. The other owls were white and snowy grey.
"I met a woman who had one just like it, well hers had the white owl centrally located," Canek went on, smiling slightly at Junebug's evident shock.
"Kyra Ren she called herself, she was running a cavalry squadron on Payson's world, pulled me out of a few tight spots." Sayeeda stared into nothingness for a moment assailed by sudden images of the past. Kyra with her mouth open in a scream as she hosed a Shemite position with her plasma cannon. Kyra her blond locks trailing smoke as she stumbled out of her burning vehicle to catch Junebug's hand. The sound of her laugh as she tossed her last florin into the pot in some card game.
"She told me the story one night when she had too much to drink," Canek's voice drew her back to the present.
"Said there were three of you who had the same tat, the Owls of Minerva she said it was, whatever the fuck that means," Canek paused looking a little concerned.
"Hey you still with me?" he asked. Junebug nodded her head, shaking of the reverie with obvious effort.
"So I figure that even if your hauling freight now you know how to handle yourself. How about it?" he reached out his hand as if to shake hers.
Above on the ridgeline Neil heard a soft clink of metal on stone. Glancing across the opening he could see the dark shapes of men wrapped in the cloth of desert nomads as the crept along the slight depressions worn in the rock by centuries of wind and blown grit. All of the men carried rifles and some had heavier weapons, shoulder mounted rockets or single discharge plasma lances, slong over their backs. They were focused on the opening in the rock and hadn't spotted the pilot. There were a score or more of them, each moving with the stealth and care of a man born to it.</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Two days later...
Canek's orders were a bit hard to swallow. Well, orders was a bold statement. His enforced request, he called it. They needed to get in close with the Pasha, in order to gather what Canek had called them to get. Initially Neil had volunteered to go in and infiltrate. He'd performed missions of this sort before. He was not as combat effective as Junebug, but he did have a penchant for getting in and out of places he wasn't wanted.
But Canek wanted no screw up. They needed a...consented infiltration. He laid out his plan, amusing Junebug and having the exact opposite effect on Neil. He didn't feel comfortable for Junebug or Taya masquerading as a harem girl, covert or not. Taya because he was protective of her, and Junebug because... well, you do the math. They hadn't talked about Neil's confession from a few nights ago, and though he wanted to find closure on it, he'd just started to pretend it never happened. Better to bottle stuff up, right? Just like his dad said.
Still, he was glad that Junebug had volunteered. He didn't think Taya would have the stomach for it, and he remembered when Junebug had killed a man and moaned over his dead body to fool his friends. He knew she could at leas take care of herself. She had a comm on her, linked directly to Neil who took point on a slug rifle on a rooftop, and the Highlander. Saxon did not know the spirit of the mission, only that there was a mission. Once they told him it was a covert op, he was not interested regardless.
Good, the last thing they needed was Saxon to rip apart half of the settlement.
Neil lay atop a three story building, one of the few structures over 20 feet in height in the entire city, save for a beacon tower, an expensive inn, and the Pasha's house that Junebug was now infiltrating. He made sure his gun was loaded, and on the sights he could see one of Canek's men guiding Junebug to the entrance wrapped in cloth, posing as if to sell her.
There was a quick exchange of words, before she was roughly handed over.
"In position," Neil said on the comm, his voice now reverberating in Junebug's ear. "Status?"</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Shes a bit older than he usually likes them," the slavemaster grumbled as Canek's mercenary, an affable man named Alverez handed Junebug through the wrought iron gate. The slavemaster was a fat man and years of drink and dissipation had left his nose red and crinkled with spider veins. The decision not to send Taya had been a tough one. The girl had been willing enough and her youth and coloration as well as her technical skill made her better suited for the deception. Taya had been more than willing but Junebug had shut her down, not because she herself was a glory hog, but because she knew in her heart of hearts, that Taya wasn't really an operator the way she and Neil were. It wasn't a matter of being willing in your mind, you needed to be able to do it in your gut, put the knife in without mercy. Junebug suspected it wasn't a good comment on her mental health that she didn't feel you could really trust someone until they could kill without compunction, but she had survived over a decade in a business that didn't give many second chances.
"Yeah well, if his nibs doesn't go for her then you can sell her yourself right? Alverez prompted and the slave master grunted. He passed a pouch to the mercenary that jingled significantly. Junebug made a mental note to get the money off Alverez when this was over. She was dressed for the occasion in the dark grey cloth that the locals wore, the garments covering her almost completely though they hugged her figure sufficiently as to leave no doubt to her gender. Taya had spent most of the afternoon carefully concealing Junebug's tattoos and scars with cosmetics. The effect wasn't perfect but hopefully she wouldn't need to pass close inspection. It was late evening now, and the business of the palace was done for the day. Canek believed that she would be stored in the harem wing tonight and presented to the Pasha in the morning. If not, well thats what Neil was across the way for.
"Fine," the Slavemaster said looking her up and down with approval.
"Looks like she has some fight in her, the Pasha likes that sometimes," he noted, earning himself no points in Sayeeda's book. The Slavemaster took out a scanner from his robes and passed it over Sayeeda's body though for what purpose she wasn't exactly sure. Perhaps it was merely a check for weapons and other contraband. Satisfied he took her by the arm and closed the door on Alvarez, leading her back into the palace.
The Harem was a lushly appointed series of chamber arranged around a central courtyard of intricately designed mosaic tiles. Sayeeda thought it might have been meant to represent a lemon tree light by two moons but it was difficult to appreciate it from so close. Dozens of small chambers appended to the courtyard, each sectioned off by latices of artfully rendedred carved wood that had been poished till it shined. The slave master half lead half dragged her to the center where a severe looking woman with grey hair was waiting.
"You may go Haseem," she directed the slavemaster curtly. The man growled but departed without incident. The woman stepped forward and matter of factly stripped Sayeeda naked with a couple of quick practiced jerks. She shivered in the moonlight and tried to lean forward slighty in order to conceal her abdominal muscules. Junebug had always been fit, but since her encounter with the Terran bio enhancements her musculature had become more prominent. Even leaning forward the ghost of her stomach muscles was visible. The woman sucked a breath in through her teeth.
"Well you aren't the usual are you," she mused, slapping Sayeeda experimentally on one dusky hip.
"Fit arent you, a bit on the heavy side" she went on, circling Sayeeda like a hawk. Junebug said nothing, uncertain of if there was an appropriate response.
"Well I suppose we will see what the Pasha think in the morning," she said decisevely and gestured towards a room. Junebug snatched up her clothing and awkwardly made her way to it.
"Status?" Neil's voice buzzed in her ear. Junebug sighed philisopically.
"Well I'm apparently too heavy and too old for a harem," she responded wrly, "but so far, so good.:</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil didn't make a sound, but Junebug would have probably laughed when Neil's eyes widened in incredulity. If she was too old and heavy, then he would have been. Junebug looked younger and more supple than when he'd met her. "Tough crowd" was all he said into the comm, and on his earpiece he heard a door closing on her end before the transmission cut out until it would pick up her next words. He shook his head and turned the scope of his rifle to overlook the surrounding area.
The compound was located at the end of a short block, with a relatively wide open space for about 280 degrees other than its back being connected to a wall, that would in turn connect to another smaller compound. Other than that, there was a street between it and virtually every other building or hiding place. Dispensers and locals milled about across the street, but they all kept a wide berth. The building was made to look nondescript, but they all knew or felt the barrels of the guns and the weight of the wealth that inhabited the place.
"Eeeehhh, let's see...local, local, local, whore, local, Sven...wait what." He said, his retical zooming in to see Sven standing under the canopy of a tarp above the sidewalk, looking very blended in, as if he had always lived here, save for the fairer skin and blue eyes. He was eating some local cuisine that had the look of a yellow fruit that had exploded outward, and looking at the compound for a reason Neil couldn't fathom. Neil followed his eyes, and the retical moved left until it landed upon an AirV, a military aircar. One of four that moved down the street, armored plating and gauss turrets manned by hard men, wearing flak armor and leather satchels strapped horizontally over their chests.
They stopped in front of the compound.
Even in a hopeful scenario where they were allies of the Pasha, which was likely as they hadn't opened fired on the building, it would still be added security that Junebug would have to deal with. Neil patched her in. "Hey, Captain. You have...a dozen armed men heading inside where you are. I can't tell if they're customers or guards, but either way, be careful."
Neil wished he could fire on them and thin the herd. He didn't have the luxury of a suppressor. One shot they would know there was a shooter. Second shot they would ascertain his direction. Third shot, they would see the muzzle flash and know right where he was. He couldn't help at the moment and it was bothering him more than he would have liked.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebugs stomach lurched the way it always did right before things really dropped in the pot. A number of possible scenarios ran through her mind at once, none of them good. She quickly finished pulling on the outfit that she found in the chambers she had been assigned. A gauzy band of gossamer silk, that wrapped around her chest, and a knee length skirt of similar material that was girdled by a belt of woven gold thread clenched with a ruby. The garments didn't provide much in the way of modesty but they at least provided the psychological comfort that clothing of any kind affords.
"Taya can you reach Sven on any net you have set up?" she asked.
"Break. Neil better gear me up." Across the street Neil unlimbered an awkward looking plastic tube. He hefted it to his shoulder and pushed the rude trigger switch that he had installed earlier. There was an audible chuff of compressed air as it launched its payload across the street, arcing only a little faster than a man could through to land in the courtyard where it bounced end over end before coming to rest against a decorative wall. Junebug scooped it up and tore the packing tape that secured it, inside was a towel in which had been wrapped a small pistol, a datapad and some rudimentary intrusion kit. She tucked the small pistol into the girdle bought the datapad live, adding its visual capacity.
"No… ummm I mean negative, I can't reach him," Taya responded a moment later.
"I cant find him anywhere," she said a moment later.
"Oh we know where he is," Junebug responded.
"Break. Neil, unless I'm very much mistaken Sven is about to launch a coup…" It was also possible that it was a robbery, though very much of the smash first grab later variety, that didn't really seem like Sven's style. It hardly mattered at the moment. An automatic weapon opened up as one of the guards Sven hadn't managed to bribe opened fire. A moment later the gauss cannons on the air cars ripped the night with a sleet of iridium pellets, blowing apart men in the watchtowers and tearing guards of the parapet in showers of bloody gristle.
Screaming harem girls rushed from the courtyard in various states of undress. Junebug had a moment to contemplate that most of them were younger and softer than she was before a grenade bounced into the courtyard. Junebug kicked the small golf ball sized bomb into one of the empty rooms and shoved the nearest girl to the floor a second before the glass fiber shrapnel blasted from the room, though robbed of its lethal force several women screamed. A moment later a door burst open and a pair of armored mercenaries with assault rifles rushed into the mass of women. Sayeeda's little pistol cracked twice snapping the lead gunman's head back in a spray of blood and brains. The second man, lucky but good also, dived behind one of the carven wooden panels. Junebug spat a sulfurous oath and fired into the heavy teak but succeeded only in spraying splinters with the small calibre gun. The wood cratered inward and the man behind it flopped bonelessly to the ground as Neil took him out from his elevated position, the report of the heavy weapon lost in the din. Sayeeda blew a lock of hair out of her face.
"Taya, seal the ship," she commanded, pressing the release stud to drop the half empty clip to the mosaic floor and replacing it with her one and only reload.
"You got it," came back along with the sound of the Highlanders emergency hatches slamming shut. Hopefully that wasn't necessary but taking unnecessary chances was a good way to get your people killed. She belated wondered if Saxon were on the ship and what role, if any, he was playing in all this. It was too late to worry about it and probably beyond Taya's power to eject the Hex from the ship if it became an issue
She was alone in the courtyard now, the rest of the harem having scattered back to the dubious safety of their quarters. Blood ran down an incline not apparent to the naked eye from the merc Neil's shot had all but decapitated. Sven's men, if that was what was going on, weren't necessarily their enemies, but experience taught Junebug that you shot first and asked questions only if you absolutely had to when you were writing the after action report. The fact that Sven had not tried to hire them was suggestive, as was the fact he had obviously gone to some length to be incommunicado but that could just be a determination not to let Neil fuck up his latest venture. What was important now was that she get to the library and get the data the needed before the whole place went up in proverbial, and perhaps literal, flames.
"This is going to get really messy Junebug," Neil said, his transmission stepping on something Taya had been about to say by virtue of his seniority. Sayeeda scooped up the fallen mercenaries weapon and thrust the pistol into the girdle before taking a bandolier of reload and looping it over her shoulder.
"You are telling me," she agreed, imagining how she appeared in the silks with the brutal looking rifle and the bandolier.
"I already look completely ridiculous."</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
In her military career Junebug had occasionally been credited with good tactical instincts, some pieces of work had verged on brilliant, but at core her philosophy was a very simple one. Move fast, keep shooting and hope that when the smoke cleared you were still alive. It had been an excellent MO for armored unit commander and it was equally effective in the nasty close quarters fighting in the Pasha's palace. In the confusions and tight quarters she shot at everyone. Even if she were on a particular side there was no time to identify who was who. A figure in what might have been a uniform staggered out of a doorway trying to pull up his pants. Junebug shot him twice in the chest sending him spinning into a wall with a thud before leaping over his slumping body. Another man rounded a coner in at a blind run. Sayeeda cut him down without hesitation on realising as she passed that he had no weapon. Well worse things happened in war time. You didn't worry about what you couldn't change.
After a few minutes she found herself in a deserted corridor though she could still hear the screaming and gunfire at other points in the palace. She ducked into a deserted room and found it to be filled with huming banks of data storage equipment. Fumbling, she reloaded the stolen weapon with one of the box like magazines. It was unfamiliar but there were only so many ways that it made sense to assemble a gun.
"Captain," Niel's voice sounded in her ears.
"Sven's told his mercenaries to hold their fire," the pilot spoke over the comlink.
"You think they are going to listen to him?" she asked.
"I think so, these are some tough looking bastards but they are all shit scared of Sven," Neil returned. Sayeeda thought she could hear a mirthless chuckle in the background.
"You think he is after the same thing we are?" she asked, wondering if this was Sven's way of seizing the same document Canek was looking for.
"I don't think so," Neil responded with a touch of hesitation.
"Seems to be interested in a power grab." Junebug doubted the two things were mutually exclusive but it was going to be difficult to search while under fire. She pulled her intrusion kit out and slid it into the nearest computer.
"Can you access the system Taya?" she asked.
"Can do Junebug," Taya's voice responde.
"Alright, tell them I'm coming out," Junebug responded to Neil.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"You got it." Neil said into the comm, having seen where Junebug was a moment before through a haze of the dust that still clung to the air like a fog from all the gunfire. He told Sven to tell his men to lower their weapons. Sven nodded, and with a gesture of his hands, the mercenaries dropped their guns, or at least pointed their barrels to the floor.
"Which one will she be?" one of the mercs asked.
"Probably the one armed like you." Neil replied offhandedly, then he blinked. "Whoa, wait, what does it matter? You are not shooting any of the women here."
Junebug stepped out, hefting her assault rifle and wearing next to nothing. Neil's jaw dropped at the sight. She looked like she was a model for a Stahlkrieg advertisement. He headed over to her, 50. cal sniper rifle in his right hand as if it wouldn't break his arm trying to fire it offhandedly. He wasn't stupid (all the time). He took out the firing pin after Sven had ordered his men to stand down. More because he knew how Sven worked. Anything to lower the calculations of "statistical betrayal" was a boon.
"Well that could have been less messy." Neil remarked.
"Where's the fun in that?" Junebug said with a smirk, and she reloaded her Stalhkrieg weapon as if she'd owned it for years. "But really, it was lucky you found Sven when you did. Good eye." she said. Neil shrugged, but before he could speak, Sven remarked. "Found him." with a certainty Neil was all too familiar with.
"Second floor, fourth room of the left." The cyborg said, reciting the exact information that his eye was likely feeding him through a complex code even Neil probably couldn't begin to understand. "One hundred and ninety five centimeters in height. Barred from the inside. He holds a slave girl in chains with a gun on her." Out of the dust, the eye clawed across the landscape and scrambled up Sven's tall body back into his socket.
"This one is on you." Sven said. "You have five minutes."</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda and Neil moved through the line of mercenaries. They were a scruffy looking bunch up close. A few had the look of hardened killers, the sort of men who Andor's Armored might have recruited to fill combat losses, but just as many seemed to be locals. These men seemed to be drawn from desert tribes rather than the more cosmopolitan inhabitants of the city. Their eyes shone with the eerie light of fanatics and they fingered their weapons as Neil and Junebug passed by. They snarled curses and growled like animals.
"Boy he sure can pick them," Neil observed as they climbed a set of carven stone steps towards the fourth floor. Sven's men had secured each landing of the stairs, their weapons pointed down the long corridors. Sayeeda tried to think of what she would do if she were the commander of the palace guard. Probably ascend to the room and push down the stairwell to secure the top floor then hold what she had until backup arrived. It was vanishingly unlikely there was anyone in the Pasha's guard who would be either willing or able to execute such a tactic.
A trio of mercenaries stood before a large door on the forth floor. The doorway itself was of a desert stone with veins that ran from gold to almost purple, the slabs had been polished until they shone with a jewel like radience that was far more beautiful than anything Sayeeda had yet seen within the luxurious palace. Aiden could take lessons. Beautiful though the door was Junebug had to admit that it was somewhat marred by the nights events. A large golden door handle had been blasted aside with a shaped charge which had cracked the stone and crazed the surface leaving the door hanging open. From inside a stream of invictive issues forth in an unbroken torrent. The curses were creative but appeared to be running down to a core message of 'fuck you' and 'I'll kill her".
"You should not be here slut!" one of the mercenaries, one of the desert nomads, snarled in barely understandable galactic. He took a step forward and raised his weapon. The butt of Junebug's rifle caught him across the temple with an audible crack. It wasn't a matter of strength, not really, merely momentum and precision. The rag clad guerrilla let out a weird mewling sound and dropped to the floor, blood running from his nose.
"Any further questions?" Junebug asked acidly. Another of the mercenaries, armored in gray ceramic and sporting an impressive mustache began to laugh. That unlooked for sound stilled the stream of cursing from beyond the shattered portal. The other mercenary, of a type with the one Junebug had just brained, looked simultaneously furious and impotent. Junebug strode past him and pointed her freehand at the man, finger extended and thumb raised like a childs impression of a pistol. She winked at the furiours looking dervish and mouthed the word 'bang' without actually making a noise. The mustachioed mercenary, clearly with a similar opinion of the lower class hirelings as Junebug, redoubled his laughter.
A room was a cyborgs clinical description, but the chamber beyond the portal was vast. Thirty meters atleas and easily half that wide with high ceilings that hung with intricately worked brass lanterns that housed modern illuminators. The floor was made of tiles of polished stone similar to the door save where large plush looking rugs lay over it. Expensive artworks and sculptures were scattered about along with numerous divans and couches. At the far end of the room stood a large bed that stood before a balcony which looked out over the starlight city. A slight shimmer of a static displacer danced in the portal, expensive tech on a backworld like this one even if all it did was keep dust out of your bedroom.
"If you take one more step ill kill her!" shrieked a man half crouched behind the foot of the bed. He was half dressed in silk robes though his turban hung comically from his head and his tunic had been buttoned up out of alignment. The pasha was not a impressive man, he might have been handsome once but age and dissipation had swollen his face and his fingers to the point that the many jeweled rings that bedecked them probably couldn't be taken off. He held a modern looking pistol into the back of a weeping slave girl. As Sven had stated she was chained at wrist and ankle and around her neck. Even in the moonlight she was physically impressive, a voluptuous goddess who appeared to have stepped from an erotic holo through her eyes and face were stained with tears. Given the intricacy of the chains she had clearly been restrained when the attack started, though the reasons why weren't something that Junebug wanted to pursue.
"Go ahead then," Junebug invited, arching an eyebrow in contempt at the ruler of the city. The Pasha appeared momentarily nonplused. He jammed the pistol hard against the womans ribs, eliciting a pained squeal.
"What?!" he gaped.
"Shoot her then, if you are going to," Junebug invited, hefting her rifle to indicate the woman.
"We only have a few minutes and Id rather not waste it on threats."</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda sat at the holotable of the Highlander, her elbows propped on the ceramo-plastic surface. Taya, Neil and Canek as at their own places while the waited for Taya to find what she was looking for in the databook they had taken from the former Pasha. Sayeeda was still wearing the harem girl outfit, though she had taken a few moments to wipe the grime away from her skin with cleaning wipes and she had added a jacket to the ensemble in deference to the cooler temperature created by the environmental control system.
"I'm not finding any records pertaining to the treasure ship," Taya said with a frown. Canek looked at her suspiciously. The mercenary captain looked considerably worse for wear. His right eyebrow and the hair on the side of his face had been singed away, and his skin was the unnervingly uniform color of a synthetic spray. Sayeeda, who had been severely burned during her time in the Armored, had some sympathy for him, but the fact that his goons had hit her over the head a few hours ago did someone dry that well.
"It won't directly mention the treasure ship," Canek prompted, "But there should be something, lights in the sky, unusual activity, strangers in the port." It stood to reason, if the Pasha or his ancestors had known the location of the treasure ship, they would certainly have claimed it long ago.
"Wait…" Taya said, tapping a few keys. The holo table sprang to life in a stylized view of the night sky above Hanh. An accented voice began to speak.
"I can seldom remember when the Lyre was in such opposition to the Queen of Darkness," the voice mused self importantly.
"These are astrological readings performed by the court Astrologer during the time the treasure ship was supposedly lost," Taya explained.
"Lonny can you do a search for any references to shooting stars or local variants of the term?" she asked.
"Aye Aye Lassie!" Lonny chirruped. There was a warbeling burst of sound which Sayeeda interpreted as the records being played at many times normal speed. The screen split into three, each recording a shooting star caught be the astrologers vid pickup. To Sayeeda's eye they all looked the same but Taya cooed in triumph and selected the right most screen, expanding it to the full size of the display.
"What's special about that one?" Canek demanded, leaning forward in spite of himself. Taya touched a few more keys and the display marked the track across the sky as a continuous line. There was a very slight arc to it which Lonny highlighted in red.
"Breaking thrust," Neil exclaimed, as a pilot he grasped the essentials faster than either Canek or Sayeeda did.
"Not much though, probably just the emergency systems, wouldn't have stopped a crash," he added, glancing down at the data scrolling past on the screen. Sayeeda frowned.
"Can we compute a vector from this information?" she asked, "A likely crash point?" Obediently the screen shifted, highlighting an area of several hundred square kilometers with a larger area around it highlighted in a lighter shade.
"Thats a big area," she said dubiously.
"We have nae information bout thruster discharge closer to the crash site Cap'n," Lonny explained, "We cannae be more precise than that."
"Its better information than anyone has had in a hundred years," Canek said with a grin.
"So we cant search this area with sensors or something?" Sayeeda asked, still dubiously. Canek shook his head.
"Unfortunately the poles are fairly heavily irradiated. There was water here once but a large uranium and soluble iron ferrite based asteroid blasted the planet some time in the distant past. Most of that radiation was sequestered in the water, which was drawn to the poles after the asteroid destroyed the original orbit. It's not dangerous in short bursts but it's enough to fox most sensors."
"Huh," Sayeeda said, shaking her head.
"So all we have to do is head up to a radioactive wasteland where an unknown number of psychotic treasure hunters are already scouring the landscape and hunt for a ship we can't use sensors to find in an area the size of a small country?" she asked. Canek spread his hands.
"I never said it would be easy, but if we pull this off you get your share and the parts you need to get off this rock."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil and Sayeeda were ready to go, and to Neil's distaste, Saxon insisted on going along. He flexed his clawed paws as he insisted that if he did not brutalize someone or something soon, he would break apart the Highlander out of boredom. Neil believed him, and the three, along with Canek, made their way back to Canek's base to outfit themselves best they could. "I think we have a good arsenal back at the Highlander!" Neil yelled as they sped through the desert on Canek's bulked up transport.
"Trust me, my 'friend'." Canek said, still a bit put off by Neil stealing Junebug away in the middle of a firefight, paying no thought to the fact that Neil initially aided him by self destructing a dervish raider before combat began. "You will want to check my stock! You also will need some specialized rebreathers. They're newly developed by Iodian Tech!" Saxon snorted as if that was funny, and to him it would be as his rebreather was highly advanced. Neil new Iodan though, as a company. Their usual business was mining asteroids for precious metals.
Parking at Canek's facility, the members of his 'militia' or whatever he called them were busy at work repairing the damages from the night before. Some hauled boxes and used a junker version of the hauler to move crates, while others sprayed on plascrete to the damages architecture, the goo slowly reforming and hardening as they carved it up to resemble what it once was before explosives and small arms fire marred the place.
As sparks flew onto the dirties floor, a mechanic repairing a badly damaged hover transport, Neil and Sayeeda hopped out of the aircar, the vehicle notably lurching when Saxon stepped off. "Follow me," Canek said, calling for what guards were on duty to lower their weapons, as the newcomers had lasguns trained on them from the moment they set foot within. Canek stopped, motioning for Saxon to stay. "Er, not you. You look well outfitted, and you wouldn't fit inside, I am afraid."
Saxon growled threateningly, but didn't argue. They continued on.
Past a heap of parts that were likely scavenged from the desert, an immense fan that droned out all noise in the immediate area, and a few rougher men cleaning their rifles with a dutiful precision, Canek led them into a lesser corridor. The lights within were attached via thick wires, and they flickered unreliably every few moments. Turning into another hall, he made it to the first door on the left and opened it, revealing a dark room.
With an audible clack, the pulled lever on the wall lit up the large chamber of weaponry. Neil's eyes widened, and even Sayeeda, who had no doubt seen more armaments than any here felt a swell of adrenaline blooming in her breast. There were two floors, and they would be able to step down into the main area. Up here however, were various pistols and submachine guns looted from across the galaxy, if not at least various systems. Small arms with heat signature add ons, laspistols, plasma pistols, sawed off groaner guns, sawed off shotguns, slug throwers, revolvers.
Neil already had a pistol he wouldn't trade for the world, so he stepped down the small stairway into the larger room, where one could still overlook via railing in the pistol area. Below, and along the walls, were plasma guns, rail guns, gauss rifles. More explosives than Neil had seen in awhile, and it was actually somewhat arousing. Napalm throwers, napalm grenades, ion grenades, frag grenades, krak grenades. Las weaponry and slug weaponry of various types, with assult rifles, sniper rifles, shotguns, battle rifles.
"Hey, you think we'll need this?" Neil joked, and Sayeeda could look down and see him holding a miniaturized atomic payload (it was still as large as Neil's chest) meant for destroying villages in a literal flash. Canek laughed guiltily. "That was quite a find. Do not drop it, though in theory it will only detonate with the detonator."</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda looked around the cornucopia of death and destruction wondering for what purpose Canek had gathered such an arsenal. There must have been a couple of million credits here in small arms alone.
"Recruits have been harder to come by than weapons," Canek explained, perhaps sensing her interest.
"Alot of men died in that ambush and well… I don't fully trust a lot of the local talent," he went on. Sayeeda picked up a submachine gun, not unlike the one she normally carried and was surprised to discover it was actually a plasma weapon. It was usually difficult to find a weapon smaller than a rifle, she fitted a patrol sling to it and began to gather reloads that were packaged in long slender tubes.
"I'm going to guess that finding this treasure ship is only step one?" she asked. Canek spread his hands wide in a theatrical guesture.
"Step one hundred and something probably. The goal is to raise enough men and hire enough ships to get to Seylonika," Canek said, half shouting over the roar of drive fans. Behind them the tank she had seen the night before was spinning up its engines. Large patches of tempered steel had been welded over gaps that had been blown in the skirts. A mechanic watched through a commo helmet, probably monitoring heat to make sure that the repairs could hold the pressure needed to float a thirty ton vehicle.
"What's on Seylonika," Taya asked. The girl was toying with a compact breaching shotgun, the kind that vacuum commandos used when storming ships in deep space. Sayeeda didn't think Taya or anyone else, could fire the weapon without being knocked on their ass, at least without a suit to adsorb the significant recoil.
"There was a general call put out about three months ago," Canek said.
"Seylonika is the center of the Six World League, they are looking at hiring mercenaries in a big way, there is a new Prelate I guess who has some adventure in mind."
"Ah," Sayeeda said in understanding and then because it was obvious Taya didn't, explained.
"There are a couple of different grades of mercenaries," Sayeeda said.
"There are people like us, more or less freelance guns for hire, and then there are licensed mercs, like my old outfit." Taya looked confused.
"Licensed by who?" she asked, apparently losing interest in the shotgun in favor of a sleek looking rocket gun of alien design.
"The Office of Special Actions," Sayeeda said, "they started out as a Terran government beaura back in the days when Terra was a bigger deal that it is now. They used to be in charge of certifying that contractors that worked for the Terrans did what they say, verified TO&E, made sure contracts were handled properly."
Sayeeda picked out a rad suit, a thin suit of flexible polymer with ionic inlays that would protect someone from the radiation they were likely to find near the computer projected crash site. Canek's people had a sophisticated array of sensors also, though most of them were likely to suffer some level of interference from the polar radiation.
"But they don't work for the Terrans now?" Taya asked.
"OSA is its own outfit now, they still do the same things verify mercenary contracts, make sure that the people doing the fighting do what they say and make sure that the people doing the paying pay up, but they work independently of Earth now. It's too big a business for the Terrans to corner the market I suppose."
The OSA was legendarily neutral, existing only to ensure that contracts were fulfilled as agreed. The arrangement suited everyone as it prevented mercenaries from deciding they would seize power on worlds they were contracted and it prevented locals from deciding that not paying or killing the mercenaries was cheaper than honoring their deals. In the event that one or another party didn't live up to its word, they could and would levy their own mercenaries to address the problem. Junebug hadn't had much direct interaction with OSA agents, but she knew from reputation, and horror stories, that the OSA wasn't fucking around.
"Ok," Taya said, obviously still confused.
"So what does this have to do with us, or with him anyway?" she asked gesturing to Canek with the barrel of the gun in a way that made Sayeeda queasy.
"There are two ways you can get a merc company registered with the OSA," Sayeeda explained.
"One, you can go through a lengthy legal process that costs millions of credits, or you can be part of a General Call. That is when a large enough world needs more mercenaries than are likely to be available, the OSA will certify formed units that show up on a provisional basis, which they confirm when the first contract is fulfilled."
General Calls were rare events, largely because hiring groups didn't usually want to give their opponents warning that they were gathering large numbers of soldiers and give them time to prepare their own defences. For an aspiring Mercenary Captain though, there was no greater opportunity. Hundreds of small timers would rush to the recruiting area to try to win a position, though even once they got there they would need to impress the hiring party enough to get the contract.
"Right," Canek chimed in, "And they will only sign of on a unit that is company sized or larger and properly equipped. I need enough money to raise and outfit at least a hundred pros, and get them to Seylonika in time, and the treasure ship is the only way I can see to make that happen. Once I have the cash, I'll be able to gather enough recruits."</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Windblown grit drifted across Sayeeda's helmet. Even at this speed the minute static charge was enough to keep the visor clear. The LAV roared up over the dune, briefly leaping into the air as it crested the rise. Neil poured the power to the fans and set them down on the far side without loss of speed or direction, where a less careful driver might have smashed them into the ground. The LAV roared down the other side of the dune, none the worse for wear. The tank, lacking the power to weight ratio of the light attack vehicle snorted over the rise at an angle before cutting back sharply to traverse the reverse slope.
When Sayeeda had envisaged the 'poles' of Hahn, she had imagined it would be cold, but the lack of axial tilt and the intensity of the star the world orbited rendered the place a slightly cooler desert, that was also radioactive. The four Highlanders, if Saxon could be given an honorary place, road in a light attack vehicle. It was a boxy vehicle with four drive fans mounted in attached nacelles. The sides of the vehicle sloped away from the fighting compartment and were made of layered tungsten steel ceramic armor, proof against most small arms and anything but a direct hit by anything short of a tank shell. The vehicle was armed with three quad barreled plasma weapons, two mounted on the wings and one mounted forward. Taya had been give the forward facing weapon while Sayeeda and Saxon had the left and right guns. Taya had been very pleased with the apparently important assignment and Sayeeda hadn't seen any point in telling her that the forward facing gun was the safest spot for a newbie. One rarely drove directly at a threat if one wanted to survive.
They had been pushing north for the better part of three days, or more accurately, three nights. They operated mostly at night for comfort and because the sophisticated sensors of the vehicles gave them an advantage in fighting in the dark. Canek's column, two LAVs the tank and a pair of hover apcs were difficult for anyone to miss, they had spotted glimpses of other treasure hunters and the wild natives how lived in the blasted land, but so far they had kept a respectful distance. Not that it would be difficult to sneak up, true to Taya's words the sensors were nearly useless outside visual range, which was very short in this broken landscape of dunes and rocky outcrops.
The landscape itself had an austere beauty to it. Long dunes of sand rippled across rocky plains that occasionally thrust up mesa like outcrops. Water here was even scarcer than on the rest of Hahn, with few oasis, even those they did see supported only twisted trees, warped by the unhealthy background radiation. What water the nomads used came from springs that bubbled up beneath the limestone mesas where ancient charcoal deposits provided some measure of filtration. Now and again the entrances to such cisterns could be spotted on infrared viewing, dark green swaths radiating a few feet from the mouth of small caverns and cracks in the bases of the rocky mesas. The column had stopped at a number of the larger peaks and bivouacked long enough for Canek's people to plant sensor units on the high ground in a rough ring around the projected crash site. The sensor units were simple high powered models, designed to cut through the radiation, at least at reasonably short range. Canek calculated that the complete array would be able to sweep the wide area well enough to give them some idea of where the crashed starship might be found.
"Junebug," Sayeeda's helmet visor tagged the incoming transmission as gun 1, which was Taya's station. She didn't turn her head to look at the girl, but kept her eyes on her sector, empty and barren though it appeared. The comm channel slug was followed by an asterix, indicating it was locked and private.
"Go ahead," Junebug replied mechanically. The long run had wrung them all out and the dull vibration of the lift fans was enervating even to veterans like Sayeeda Cyckali.
"So what happened with you and Neil back in the city?" Taya asked. Sayeeda only just resisted the urge to snap at the girl for clogging up the commo net with useless trivia but that was an old reflex and no one very pertinent to the present situation.
"I told you, I got jumped by a couple of Canek's goons," Sayeeda replied.
"No, I mean before that."
"Oh…," she did look now, not towards Taya but down to the back of Neil's head. It was bobbing up and down as he listened to some music, doubtlessly more of that retro trash of which he was so fond. Taya's question wasn't unreasonable, afterall she had seen Junebug and Neil go of to a private room together.
"He told me that he had romantic feelings for me," she said in a neutral tone. Sayeeda hadn't had time to process the information. She had a vague notion that Neil was viewing her as some kind of rebound from Woods even though that contradicted what he himself had said.
"And?!" Taya asked, her excitement evident even over the two way link and its accompanying compression.
"Also he thinks Saxon has a thing for me," Junebug relayed. Since that revelation she had done a little research. The data banks on the Highlander contained little information about Hex's and their mating habits and what data nets there were in the city had little more than interspeices erotic holos, which while extremely enlightening on the subject of Hexagallion anatomy, were of limited use in determining their courtship rituals.
"What?!" Taya exclaimed so loud that she could be heard even over the roar of the fans. The helmet AI squashed the volume of the words in Sayeeda's ears which resulted in an odd echo that Sayeeda subconsciously associated with screams of pain.
"You don't have a thing for Saxon do you?" Taya asked. The map which covered a quarter of Junebugs display in a transperent mask pulsed to draw her attention to it, then zoomed down to a close up of the terrain ahead. The last mesa in their sensor grid loomed before them, glistening in the moonlight.
"Taya," Junebug replied.
"What?" the girl asked eagerly.
"Watch your sector."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil imagined most mercenaries would look at the Hahn desert and feel like it's such wasted potention, or that there was very little to be gained here if it wasn't for the treasure coordinates. The kind of guys who could only appreciate hard drinking and soft women, and don't get him wrong, Neil was all for both. But he also enjoyed seeing other worlds and their biomes. The vastness of space and all it held within still amazed him. He could travel his entire life and not visit all of the habitable systems, much less all of the habitable planets.
Even a desert like this, he could appreciate. Good music, the hot sun, the promise of wealth, and a nice engine revving beneath him. He'd donned his shades for this particular mission, and he still had an attitude that screamed 'I'm stylish' after three days of travel. Of course, he was a bit wary of Saxon. Though most would say he was simply...saner now. Usually Saxon's moods that could easily turn violent didn't bother him unless he had nothing else to preoccupy his time with.
He reoriented the rearview mirror, and the plume of dust in the far distance behind him told him that the caravan was on schedule and keeping a good track on their movements. Not that Neil minded. As long as he and his crew got their fair share. Well, it was Sayeeda's crew, but still. In the way back, Saxon sat unmoving, gazing into the open desert as if he were a crocodile basking. All he needed was the open mouth.
A red ping went off on the display system of the transport, and Neil smacked the side of the vehicle to let everyone know they were slowing down. They were now within the sector of the treasure, though that still meant there was a hundred square miles to sift through, and nothing in the immediately landscape screamed 'significant.' They had decided before they left that they would plant beacons once they entered, to gradually send signals through the sand and rock to see what exactly dwelled beneath.
The vehicle juttered to a halt, and Neil gave the girls in the back a grin before unneccesarily vaulting over his doorside and stretching, making his way to one of the side compartments where most of the supplies were stored. Reaching in, he found purchase on what looked to be a long pole. A subtle shift of his grip and three prongs shot out like knives from the bottom of the contraption, and a red beacon flittered to life for but a moment to indicate it was on.
"Neil, hand me some water?" Taya asked, holding her hand out feebly as if she was dehydrating before the crew's very eyes. It was an obvious exaggeration. Junebug wiped her forehead and asked for one two. He tossed them both bottles. "What about you, big guy. Want some?" Neil asked. Saxon didn't turn or answer him, though the rise and fall of his massive chest spoke he was still awake and alive. He shrugged, and grabbed himself one.
"You know, this'd make a good beach. If there was water here." Neil remarked, and took a swig of the bottle. The water had an iron taste to it once the projectile punched through the plastic. He almost didn't notice it at first, but the distant sound of gunfire and the water now spilling onto his hands sobered him up. "Oh SHIT!" Neil dived low as the sand dunes to the east revealed dozens of hidden dervish raiders, all with slug weaponry as they began to unload on the less than armored transport.
As if to prove again he was awake, Saxon gave a warbling cry and launched out of the transport with a massive leap, bullets ricocheting off his armor as he began to fire at the northern section of the enemy lines, a rocket flying out of a wrist launcher to engulf two men in flame and shrapnel.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Tracerfire sparkled of the hull of the LAV as Sayeeda dived for cover. As she rolled her helmet visor came alive with carrots that pinpointed the position of hostile muzzle flash. Taya screamed and threw herself to the ground covering her head in panic. That wasn't a great reaction in a crisis but it wasn't an uncommon one in ones first exposure to a firefight.
A pair of rockets leaped from concealed positions among the rocks toward the tank. They were too close for the tanks plasma guns to swat, even if they had been set to air defense but a section of the massive vehicles hull exploded outwards in a sleet of steel pellets. The missile defense system essentially detonated one of dozens of integral claymores, which sprayed ball bearings outwards in a cone the computer calculated as an intercept for incoming warheads. One of the missiles exploded in the air and the other one vereed wildly as a section of its steering fin was cut away, mushrooming against the side of the mesa and raining down rocks on the combatants below. A flash of blue bright enough that it would have burned Sayeeda's eyes slashed across the sky touching one of the APCs and converting it into a fireball of burning metal, fuel and men. A second lance stabbed towards the tank a second later, but the user must have been using a targeting laser because the tanks sand caster fired, spraying a sheet of debris into the air. The lance struck the cloud of gravel and liberated its energy in an explosive cyan fireball that showered the tank with flecks of burning rock but did no real damage.
The ambushers had probably expected the rockets to take out the tank and the second lance had been meant for the other APC but luck had been with Canek. The surviving APC cut its fans and hammered to the dirt like the thirty ton anvil it was. The side panels sprang open and Canek's mercenaries unassed in record time, opening fire at where they saw, or thought they saw enemies. Sayeeda belatedly realised that the fact they were placing a net of sensors in a particular pattern meant that the enemy was able to predict where they be and lay an ambush. Still an ambush had to work to be effective.
"AID," she called, queuing the low level artificial intelligence in her helmet.
"Slave vehicle guns to my threat indicator." The mounted guns on the lvl slewed and began to rip out short two or three round bursts into the mesas, targeting the carroted threats on her visual display. Men tumbled down the slope missing heads or limb from the stabbing plasma discharges. Another LAV exploded in a shower of shrapnel as a rocket arced into its hull, blasting the ammunition and combustibles inside to flaming showers of debris in a fraction of an instant. Bullets wicked the dirt around her lifting puffs of dirt like geysers. Staying next to a vehicle that would draw heavy weapons fire was a bad move and there was no way they could get the LAV back into the air. Even now its hull sparkled with bullet impacts even as the heavy weapons continued to deal automated death. Leaping to her feet she grabbed the cowering Taya and half dragged her the ten meters to where a cluster of boulders provided cover. A ragged man in desert garb rosed from concealment swinging a rifle to bear. Sayeeda cut him down with a three round burst that sent his head and arms flying in separate arc. With a world ending crash the tank fired its main gun. The twenty five centimeter plasma cannon hit the mesa with the force of a thousand freight trains, converting a divot twice the tanks own mass to gaseous rock. If the LAV hadn't already been grounded the concussion would have flipped the vehicle like a tiddlywink.
Men were screaming and burned as the bullets and plasma bolts howled back and forth. One of Canek's infantry feel to the ground, his arm shorn away at the shoulder by enemy fire. The plasma lance stabbed again, this time the gunner had taken the targeting laser offline and it carved a glittering scar across the tanks bowslow. All three of the LAVs guns converged on the shooter who had just made himself the biggest threat on the battlefield in the computers silicon brained opinion.
"Neil!" Sayeeda yelled, standing up and riping another burst uphill.
"We have to get some…" the tanks gun crashed again and the concussion dropped her on her ass behind the rocks before cooling drops of magma reigned from the sky.</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda slapped a spare magazine into the stock of her submachine gun and then hung the weapon around her neck by the sling. The storm of sand kicked up by the howling lift fans of the tank would have scoured her skin had she not been wearing the protective rad suit. The plasma weapon was a poor choice as the grit would adsorb a bolt as effectively as an armor plate would. The tank began to accelerate away from the mesa, Canek wasn't running, but he wanted to open the distance between the base of the rock spire and the tank. That would allow him to engage at something closer to the tanks optimal range and give its close in defences more time to react to threats. The torrent of fire from the LAV slacked as one of the guns jammed, its chamber fouled with dust and melted matrix from the feed line. A moment later a second gun fell silent as it too succumbed to the abuse.
"We have to get up the mesa," she called, her voice clear over the comms even though it would be all but inaudible in the din. Enemy heavy weapons would be able to fire on the group out to the end of line of sight, which would be several miles. Even if they were able to pull back, they couldn't finish their sensor grid, and they couldn't simply relocate without going back and calibrating the sensors. Taya had manage to shake off her shock and was pressing herself tight against the rock, her pistol gripped tightly in her hands. Sayeeda picked up a rifle that had fallen beside her, a bayonet affixed to the end of the barrel. Mechanically she stripped the clip and reloaded it before firing two rounds into the sky to make sure it was clear.
"Canek, cease heavy weapons fire on the mesa, break," she commanded.
"Infantry elements hold your position and provide a base of fire, break."
"Taya I know you are scared but you have to come with us, there is too much crap flying around down here. Neil popped up and fired two quick rounds at a target she hadn't seen.
"How are we going to make it that far over open ground?" Neil asked.
"AID, lift the LAV and fire all smoke launchers, proceed north west at best speed," she commanded. The fans of the nearby vehicles howled to life as its last gun went silent. The barrel shimmered brilliant white even through the haze of sand, overheated from continual firing. Bullets began to sparkle off its armor a moment before it seemed to erupt in bright white smoke as its launchers lit their charges. It slid off to the northwest, drawing the storm of enemy fire with it.
"Go!" Sayeeda shouted and leaped to her feet. A pair of men carrying machine pistols were only twenty feet away, looking in shock at the departing LAV. She dropped both men with two round bursts to the center of mass and then raced across the open field to a narrow envagination in the foot of the mesa. A crumbled ledge ran upwards and she ran along it as fast as she could. Neil and Taya were behind her, she could hear the crack of Taya's pistol, though if Niel wasn't firing she doubted the girl had any target outside her own head. Junebug hoped she wouldn't wind up taking a slug in the back from the panicky girl. A man in desert rags carrying a wide mouthed mob gun stepped out from behind a rock. He had just enough time to register shock before Sayeeda drove the point of the bayonet into his sternum. Blood gouted from the man's lips and ran down over his bearded chin. Sayeeda followed him down, placed a boot on his stomach and twisted the bayonet free. Neil was firing now, back down towards the ground where their elevation had revealed hidden enemies. The mesa shook as though from a hammer blow as another of the tanks shells crashed into the side of it. Canek must have spotted a heavy weapon and been unable to risk holding his fire. That was fine with Junebug, given that she had survived learning about it.
The ledge ended abruptly in a shear climb of perhaps twenty meters. Fortunately there was a narrow crevice, tight enough that she could brace herself into it. With a running leap she bounced up the ascent in a series of left to right hops, a feat she couldn't have performed if she wasn't shot full of adrenaline, and whatever else the Terran's had put in her system. Bullets whizzed past her from below. Someone, above her, one of the enemy screamed and toppled forward in a lazy summersault, his body bouncing of the ledge below with a wet crunch. Junebug looked down to see Taya with her smoking pistol in hand. The age of miracles apparently had a while yet to run. She crested the mesa a moment later, rolling onto her stomach and slinging her submachine gun. The summit was a broad flat plateau a hundred feet across and covered with boulders and scrubby desert trees. A dozen men stood along the rim firing down at Canek's infantry. Resisting the urge to open fire she instead pulled a spool of rope from her belt, secured it to a nearby boulder and dropped it back down the crevice for Neil.
"AID, carrot targets and import to infantry elements," she commanded. On the field below the hidden snipers lit up on the infantry huds, Sayeeda imagery overlaying the swirl of dust and smoke on the flats below. One of the men, a loader serving a large belt fed weapon turned to grab a fresh drum and saw her. He opened his mouth to shout but before he could she swung her weapon up to her shoulder and hurled him and his gunner to the floor in a spray of blood and burning flesh. A half dozen guns opened fire on her and she ducked behind a rock, pulling a grenade from her belt and lobbing it one handed in the general direction of the enemy.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Taya shook from the fact she had just killed someone, the gun in her hands vibrating from the revulsion. Neil ducked out of the way of the barrel and grabbed the gun. Taya was almost taken aback Neil was still there, and the sudden scare caused her to pull the trigger. The bullet hit the crevice wall and ricocheted, causing her to scream. Neil wasn't angered though. He just took the gun from her hands, and then held a hand up to keep her calm.
"Sorry." he saw her mouth, though over the din of gunfire he could only hear a whisper of what she said. He simply tied the rope around her waist, thanking Gideon that Junebug had tossed it down. With that, he told her to stay there, and began to ascend, placing his boot on an outjutting rock and climbing like the agile young guy he was.
Once he crested the tall rise, he felt like he had crawled right into hell for a split second. Sand, flashes of light, and screams accompanied the cacophony of the ubiquitous roar of battle. A sudden explosion tore out of the sand, raining bloody shrapnel along the rocky rise as the pilot knelt beside the Captain who sent shot after shot into the desert. Neil hardly noticed, pulling the rope up one great tug at a time to get Taya to the top.
Once he hauled her up, she crouched next to them. Shaken but otherwise ok. Neil was proud of her, to be honest. She had a small freakout and then powered through it. Though that was the least of their problems at the moment. They needed to figure out their location and where Canek was planning on making a rendezvous. Sayeeda pulled a communications device out of her pants and hailed who Neil assumed was Canek.
"Can-F, Can-F!" she cried into it, but there was nothing but static to greet her. The heavy ordinance and the EMP's being delivered around the perimeter must have short circuited the wiring. Even the comms were temporarily out, from Neil's estimation. He placed his comm back in his ear, cursing. "Where do we go?" he asked her.
It was at that moment that a hundred things happened at once. A reverberation struck what seemed to be the entirety of the desert. Both Neil and Sayeeda felt their soldierly sixth senses kicking in. They knew what was happening, even before they could see the streaks of red on the horizon. Miles off, the heavy weapons had been discharged, and rounds the size of aircars were being shot into the open desert in the desperate hope of destroying Canek's caravan.
Junebug grabbed Taya and hoisted her, and Neil ducked and rolled as the rounds suddenly struck the desert and the rocky region they found themselves in, sending enormous shockwaves and debris scattering for a tenth of a kilometer around. The three of them were thrown, somehow without major damage but sent literally flying to hit the crags in a rough roll. Sand blanketed their vision as everything went dark, and for a long moment, Neil thought he was dead.
...Until he felt himself give an intake of thick, stuffy air into his lungs. His ass and hands were wet, and he was on a hard floor, with a light far above him beaming down to illuminate the area he found himself in. Taya and Junebug lay near him, the Captain stirring as he did, rubbing her head. "Where the fuck are we?" she asked, blinking and getting her bearings. The walls were smooth and the puddles of water and sand mingled in the uneven floor, though upon closer inspection, the floor was uneven by design. They were on a tiled walkway within a...ship?
Neil couldn't answer her more informatively than his next sentence provided.
"I think we found what we were looking for."</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda hit the ground hard enough that the breath exploded from her chest. The ceramic armor saved her ribs, though she would still have bruises to show for it tomorrow. Something blond and flailing hit her across the chest with a squawk, driving her into the ground. Instinctively, Junebug rolled over, covering the girl with her armored body as rock splinters and shell fragments rained down around them. The static charge on the helmet kept the dust of her visor but the air in front of her was essentially a sandstorm. THe radio crackled useless in an unintelligible hash of static. The air above still screamed with artillery and gun fire.
They were in a narrow metal lined cavern with stalac… no… Sayeeda's shell stunned brain caught up with what was going on. The were in a massive shattered airlock. Piping, brown with a rind of ancient rust reached up towards the remaining fragments of the mesa. Not a mesa, a camouflage construction. Someone had camouflaged the starship. The Treasure ship was an orbital vessel, never meant to land in an atmosphere, but her pilot had brought her down using the thrusters against the pull of gravity. The star hot fusion drives must have melted the sand to lava as it landed, sinking the ship into a cocoon of crude glass that had been quickly covered by the blowing desert winds. All that had remained above the ground was this airlock. Somone, probably the original Terran crew had covered it with a crude concrete of sand, close enough to the sandstone mesas to fool even local wildlife into making a home of it. The crew must have left their hidden ship with the goal of returning to salvage her, but the desert or the RIP had swallowed them and their secret.
Taya struggled under Sayeeda's armored weight and as the last shells burst above she picked herself up releasing the girl. The submachine gun Junebug was carrying felt light and she glanced down to see that the barrel had been amputated two thirds the way along its length by a shell fragment that would have killed her instantly if it had been a meter to the right. Junebug tossed the weapon to the ground and drew the pistol from her belt. Above them the sound of gunfire was slacking as Canek and his surviving two vehicles retreated, gaining enough clearance from the shell struck mesa that their air defense systems could pot the incoming shells.
"Who are these people," Taya asked shakily, she still had her pistol in her hand, though Junebug noticed the red led that indicated the weapon was empty was light.
"Another group of mercs," Sayeeda explained, moving to the side of the airlock where a maintenance grating lay partially ajar. Her eyes scanned the rim of the artifical crater above them, though she could at least hope anyone that had been on top of the mesa had been blown to ragged meat.
"They must have found the ship but haven't got the transport yet to loot it properly," she conjectured.
"Probably set up a defensive perimeter while they wait for ships. Thats why they dropped the hammer on us when we showed up, they were already here to defend their prize," Junebug explained.
"Well what do we do now," she demanded. A figure appeared on the lip above them pointing a machine gun down over the lip. Sayeeda whipped her pistol up but before she could fire the man screamed as Saxon grabbed him from behind, lifted the man over his head and hurled him into the pit. The mercenary hit the ground with a sound like a cracking egg, the machine gun flying from his dead fingers with a clatter. Saxon jumped into the hole a moment before a burst of tracer fire ripped through his previous position, his long talons acting as a break as he dragged them through the sandstone to slow his decent. He landed heavily, adsorbing the shock by flexing his knees before straightening. He looked from the dead mercenary to Sayeeda, the pouches under his neck swelling. She had the peculiar impression of a cat laying a mouse at the feet of its mate.
"There are many more vermin approaching," he hissed in his serpentine voice.
"I saw armored carriers coming across the sand, Canek flees like a coward," he sneered. Sayeeda, an experienced tanker, knew that Canek's only choice was to move out into open space where he could use his vehicles effectively. She doubted he was willing to give up on the treasure ship that easily.
"What do we do?" Taya asked, her voice quivering with fear. Neil, who had been working on the maintaince hatch with his multi-tool pulled the hatch cover off and let it fall to the floor with a clang.
"I guess we take a look inside."</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug glanced around the strange room, regardless of its original intent it certainly served their purposes well. The walls provided perfect cover and the profusion of them meant that grenade blasts and other explosives would be of limited use. Whatever this vessel was, it was certainly no Terran treasury ship, but that didn't mean it wasn't valuable. Alien technology, particularly alien technology this divergent from the galactic norm, was valuable, but there were only a few buyers for it and you had to be careful how you doled it out, lest a Terran warship arrive and seize the whole thing.
It did mean the Canek was going to be very disappointed if and when he managed to fight his way back here. He certainly wasn't going to get the quick cash turn around he had wanted to start his mercenary company which meant getting the Highlander fixed was still going to be a problem. A problem if they lived anyway.
"Well I can imagine better circumstances to visit an alien sex dungeon," Sayeed observed wryly. Neil and Saxon both snorted laughter and even Taya smiled.
"We aren't going to call it that are we?" she asked incredulously. Junebug checked the load on her stolen weapon. It held nearly a hundred rounds, probably originally intended as a squad support weapon. Raising it to her shoulder she peered through its iron sights tracking the length of the barrel with her eyes. By now the sound of firing from outside had died away, meaning that either Canek had been destroyed or his men had pulled back out of effective range. Neither of those boded very well for the four trapped mercenaries. Momentarily Junebug was back on the freighter where she had earned her nom-de-guerre, running through the hallways with an empty rifle and a bloody bayonet, hacking into the neck of a federal conscript with a powered cutting bar.
"Junebug?" Taya asked in a tone which suggested it wasn't the first time. She blinked her eyes, skin prickling as she shook her head to clear it.
"Right," she interjected, giving herself a moment to gather her thoughts, "Here is what we will do."
It took the enemy nearly an hour to find them. Neil and Saxon had time to do a little scavenging, but beyond tools that had been used to partially disassemble sections of the ship there was little enough to find. They were just dragging in a box of welding rods when yells and gunfire announced that they had finally been spotted. Saxon let out a roar and ripped off a burst with his integrated cannon before the man and the Hex dived through the door and slammed it shut. Without power there was no way to lock it. Sayeeda lay prone on a ledge halfway to the back of the room. There was enough of a lip to allow her to rest her stolen weapon without use of a bipod.
Neil and Saxon just managed to take cover behind the nearest wall when the door jerked open and a pair of grenades sailed in. They detonated with a shocking actinic that was instantly stunning to anyone in the area, sending sparks and electrical discharge crawling over all the nearby surfaces. Whether Neil or Saxon were effected Sayeeda couldn't say, but her combat helmet blanked the discharge easily, throwing up a wire frame approximation of what was going on, synthesized from the thermal and millimetric radar displays. Three figures rushed through the door, guns chattering as they sought to overwhelm the defenders. Sayeeda dropped all three with careful bursts. To her annoyance the weapons feed was too fast to allow for single shots but by careful trigger control she kept each burst to two or three rounds. The wireframe's slumped to the ground as more figures fired from the cover of the door, spraying the interior of the room with bullets. Sayeeda fired twice more and then ducked back as the gunmen at the door tracked towards her muzzle flash. Neil and Saxon popped up and cut down another pair of gunmen who had been wrong footed by the move. Then Saxon leaped the wall, seized the door and slammed it shut in the faces of the shocked survivors. Taya jumped forward with a heavy industrial rivet gun and stapled the door to the wall, freezing it in place, at least until the attackers could organize a real breaching team.
There was a great deal of pounding on the door and some gunfire, but they weren't able to penetrated it. Junebug slipped down and examined the weapons and gear that the attackers had carried, gratefully accepting a second rifle and a bandolier of ammunition to supplement her own depleted gun. Taya looked vaugely sick as Junebug and Neil quickly and effectively stripped the dead. Hearing a crackle Junebug pulled an earpiece from the ear of one of the corpses.
"... get in there and kill the bastards!" someone was shouting over the radio. Junebug's helmet AI matched the frequency for her automatically.
"This is Captin Cyckali commanding the intrusion team in this vessel," she declared formerly.
"We'd like to talk terms with whomever is in charge of this shit show."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The comm crackled like popped bubblewrap. Only in the briefest intervals would Sayeeda be able to pick up the odd word or two. Spoken in quick succession and to one another in their native tongue. The volume on the static too a downward spiral, and suddenly the frequency popped and then skyrocketed into a high pitch squeal of a sound, and then silence. Until a clear, cold voice spoke over the comm with an air of confidence.
"Hello." the voice said, obviously accented and rough, but still somewhat cultured in its inflection. "To whom am I speaking to?"
"Captain Cyckali of the Highlander crew." she replied. "Your name and rank?"
There was a silence for a moment, and then an answer. "Raoul Shajar. Colonel."
As Sayeeda was making contact, Neil checked the integrity of the "door" Saxon had made after slamming that slab shut, even welding a bit of it with his multitool to keep it steady, mouth grinning widely at the sight of the flames, giving the youthful man a terrible look to his otherwise charmingly sly features. Behind him, he could hear Sayeeda's answers growing more curt as she had to literally drag out the terms of ceasefire.
"Allow us to leave unharmed and unmolested, and no more of your men need die." She said.
"Or we could allow you to starve." the voice said back. Neil had a feeling whoever Raoul was, he was probably a disgraced Baron having fallen on hard times. "Unless you wish to join us, that is."
"We have a contract with another benefactor. I don't break contracts. Business is business."
"Then you can hardly blame me for not aiding your...benefactor by allowing you to leave."
"If you think-"
Neil had begun to explore the back of the chamber, a memory of a memory bringing him to look for another option. In the wall looked to be an enclosed archway, only there was no door here it seemed. Only the archway, with various archaic pressure points along the wall set in a hexagonal fashion. He gingerly pressed the third to the left, two feet above his head. There was a sudden exhalation of air from an unknown vent, and a small control chamber slid out chest height.
"Hey! Hey big guy!" Neil whispered, drawing Saxon's burning gaze. He motioned for him to come over. The Xenos did begrudgingly, stomping past the interlocking walls to the corner where Neil stood. "What do you want?" He sounded less than pleased, though that was usually the norm. Neil pointed at the wall.
"Bend down and pick it up, will you?" he said.
Saxon just looked at him quizzically. Neil's fingers almost sang a tune as he manned the control console. If his Aelahyne memory served, and it was technically uploaded knowledge so it would serve without fault like a machine. Just a few more seconds and he would have it, but he didn't have the strength to move it. Normally with a stable power source it would, but now?
"What are you bleating about?" Saxon warbled.
"Look!" Neil exclaimed, pointing. The Hexanagallion looked again, and sure enough there was a slit in the wall where there had not been, just next to the floor. Saxon gave Neil one last look of contempt before bending down and placing his great claws upon the fallen wall, lifting it up, inch by grinding inch until it revealed a small inner corridor, lit by a strange red glow that seemed to have no source. As Taya placed a hand over her mouth, Neil grinned wickedly.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The sudden light of the sun was blinding. Junebug stood like a statue, unable to move or even breathe. She had the disturbing sensation that her heart wasn't beating. They were on a dune, an almost shear wall of falling sand. In the distance smoke rose from the shattered mesa where, a second ago she would have sworn she stood. Two brass casings hung suspended in the air beside her ejection port, held in the air by nothing Junebug could determine. Saxon stood beside her, equally imobile, his wrist mounted cannon was frozen in mid muzzle blast, the small hyper velocity bullets frozen a few inches from the muzzle.
With a sudden crack the muzzle blast completed and the suspended bullets vanished, the casings fell to the sand below her feet and Junebug staggered her mind reeling. She had been shooting at someone, hadn't she? But that had been inside a spacecraft? Recent memories were confused and garbled and she could remember little since being thrown into the alien ship. Taya fell to the sand beside her, a small pistol in her hand and her eyes wide and staring. No ne seemed able to move but after a moment Junebug's hands moved on their own, mechanically stripping the half empty clip from her stolen rifle and replacing it with a fresh one. The action snapped shut and the sound seemed to free the others from their temporary paralysis. Saxon leaped to his feet, bearing his teeth and letting out a sibilant screech of rage. He really was quite attractive in a primal sort of way Junebug observed. Neil stepped into view and helped Taya to her feet.
"What happened…" Taya gasped, her eyes wide and terrified.
"We used the lifeboat," Neil explained, he was calmer looking that Sayeeda felt he had any right to be. Whatever had happened they clearly weren't in a lifeboat she thought mulishly.
"What lifeboat," Taya asked, clearly desperate for something she could make sense of.
"I told you they had control over time," Neil explained, looking a little uncomfortable.
"AID, replay past thirty seconds at 2x," Junebug instructed, speaking only with a considerable mental effort. Her helmet obediently began to replay footage, she saw the doors blowing off their hinges and the muzzle flash of her own weapon as she opened fire. Saxon stepped from behind cover to add his fire to hers. Junebug saw herself reload, catching a glimpse of Taya, eyes squeezed shut, firing her pistol the direction of the door. Sayeeda leveled her rifle and opened fire, her view point rocking with the violence of the long automatic burst and then… she stood on the dune.
"It froze us in time, just for a second," Neil was saying, "enough that the rotation of the planet bought us clear."
Junebug's mind shied away from the implication of the statement and she mentally shrugged, trying to fight her way clear of the mental apathy that whatever had just happened had induced. To the eyes of the enemy they must simply have vanished, although that might be hard to be sure of in the chaos and confusion of their attempted breach.
"Cyckali," Saxon hissed, his Hexagallion mouthparts doing a better job of rendering her last name than either her given name or her nickname. She turned to see him pointing away down the trough of the june. Perhaps a half a kilometer away there smoked a metallic object that shimmered with heat. Her helmet magnified the view to show Canek's tank. It lay on a pool of glass, its composite armor all but glowing with heat energy. The turret was completely gone, lifted by the force of the blast when one of the anti-tank artillery shells had found the fusion bottle. Junebug had seen the sight to many times to hold out any hope. Her mouth worked and she began to laugh. They had no money, no parts to fix the Highlander, their employer was a cloud of vaporized carbon, they were in the middle of the desert with no transport and an unknown number of well equipped enemies were certain to hunt them down as soon as they realised they weren't hiding on the ship somewhere. The almost hysterical laughter echoed of the quiet dunes, broken only by the distant crack of fracturing metal as the stricken tank collapsed in on itself.</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug heaved a sigh of relief as the Highlander clattered to rest on the landing pad. The metal hull pinged as it cooled and machinery whine as the onboard systems began to power down. Though she and Neil had both agreed that the radical modifications they had made would work, the word 'probably' had been very heavily implied. She wanted to congratulate him but he was busy answering some question or another that Indra had breathlessly put to him. Pursing her lips she popped her restraints and stood up.
The landscape outside was picturesque. The steeply rising sides of the mountain were clad with something that approached a Terran fir tree, though their were odd metallic bronze inclusions in the bark that meant it was either a native, similar evolution to answer similar circumstances, or some kind of hybrid. Broad stone steps climbed the mountain in an elaborate spiral and doors of some sort of polished crystal were set into the mountainside to give access to less picturesque but more practical elevators. The frangible nature of the volcanic rock that formed the mountain had allowed human engineers to enhance naturally occuring tiers, sculpting the rock to permit space for landing pads and other structures, such as the anti-aircraft emplacements they had seen on the way in, and other small structures. The base of the spire, where the rock met the greenish sea was half rimmed with pristine beaches, and half surrounded by an industrial dockyard at which a dozen vessels lay moored at short jetties that protruded like spines. A pair of them were obviously pleasure yatz but there was also a large gray vessel painted in a disruptive pattern that was clearly a surface going warship, another smaller pair of hydrofoils might easily have been escorts though Sayeeda lacked the technical knowledge to say for sure.
In a world where plasma guns could reach out to line of sight and smash anything that was light enough to move, surface vehicles, like the tanks of Andor's armored were the primary method of fighting modern wars. Aircraft struggled due to the fact that sensors could pick them up when they cleared the horizon and the couldn't carry enough armor to survive targeted shots, though certain stealthy models, observation drones for the most part, could sometimes be of use. On a world where there was ocean rather than land, wet navies could provide the same service as tanks, mechs and other armored vehicles did on other worlds, providing mobile artillery and direct fire capabilities. The islands and archipelagos would provide bases and tall spires like this one would provide vantage points from which heavy weapons could reach out many hundreds of miles, providing natural bastions, not unlike medieval castles, for the aristocracy that controlled them. In areas where there were few tall islands, the pirates and smugglers Indra mentioned could find havens. On some worlds a united world government would have installed a satellite network that made such activity impossible, but anyone with basic sensors could pick off satellites with ease be they rival noble or pirate either way. Indra's insistence they use clearance codes to approach suddenly made a lot more sense.
"Junebug?" Taya repeated as Junebug snapped out of her ponderings.
"We got company."
The party that met them at the bottom of the Highlander's forward hatch was part formal greeting part familial reunion. A quartet of women, each wearing gilded breastplates and carrying round ornamental shields as well as very functional looking plasma pistols escorted a beautiful woman in a tailored business suit and a hard faced athletic looking man with a short iron gray beard and an official looking robe.
"Mother!" Indra cried and rushed to hug the other woman. There was little in their apparent ages to suggest a maternal relationship rather than a sisterly one, but this was obviously a testament to whatever anti-aging drugs the older woman employed. She caught up her daughter in a relieved hug. The granite faced man managed a smile of his own, though it was obviously not his usual expression.
"We didn't dare believe it when we received your private code," he intoned gravely, nodding his thanks to the assembled crew of the Highlander. Sayeeda was dressed in her usual combat pants and boots and while she wore a t-shirt emblazoned with the words 'smooth operator' she also wore a black jacket with silver piping that gave her a slightly more formal and dignified look. Though she didn't openly carry a weapon, she had a pistol tucked into her waistband concealed by the jacket.
"We rescued your daughter from a bit of difficulty," Sayeeda said graciously. The old mans eyes were searching as they regarded her, flicking left and right to take in Neil and Taya and Saxon.
"She hired us to bring her home."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"Be grateful, patriarch, that she was not harmed enroute." Saxon rumbled threateningly. That certainly changed the mood from happy to ominous. Neil kicked the Hex's leg, in one of the areas where it was unarmored. It still didn't really harm the Xenos, but it made him slightly uncomfortable and he cast a baleful gaze at Neil. It was what Neil intended, because the pilot mouthed the words. "We. are. here. to. help." And he gave the most sarcastic smile one could imagine.
"I am grateful," her father said, looking past the Xeno's words, taking his measure of the crew. As he did so, Neil took his measure of the sweet plasma pistols the guards carried. They looked ion charged. Even wearing carapace armor, one would be hardpressed to survive a shot from one of those babies. He wondered why the guards were women, as well. Not for any sexist prejudices, but he hadn't expected a feminine culture when the father looked to be the one calling the shots.
"My name is Gredorius Fullwark, and this is my wife, Gabriella." He said, motioning a hand to the lovely well dressed woman, who gave a light curtsy. Indra had inched up closer to her father, as if to reel him in if he got too ambitious or angry at her saviors. Neil wasn't sure they were making a good impression, so he couldn't rightly blame her worries over it. The Pilot wore a black T-shirt he often loved, with a Mecha on it that said 'Metal as Fuck'. Her father didn't seem to mind, continuing. "Before I gather your names, what was the price my daughter promised you for returning her to us safely?"
"Fuel for our ship." Neil pipped in first, wanting to start off small. "Access to your shipyard and time to repair it."
"And 50,000 galatic credits for the trouble." Junebug finished with.
At that, Gredorius gave a menacing chuckle, though his face had not changed expression. "I see you're not greedy. Good, perhaps this will be a fruitful exchange."
Neil didn't know if the admiral looking fellow was fucking with them, but then he recalled that the mercantile wealth of any individual Island nation here was astronomical compared to most mid-tier worlds. 50,000 was a fair price for the Highlander, but just low enough to be mere pocket change for someone like Indra's father. "Come, we will get all of you situated." The man said, motioning them forward.
Taya practically bounced. She was all for a vacation, and she gave a curtsy of her own. "Thank you, my Lord."
"It is your Grace, but fear not. I can grant a small measure of leeway to rescuers of my daughter."</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda awakened on warm sheets so smooth they felt liquid against her tan skin. The dinner the previous night had been sumptuous in the extreme. Courses of seafood, ground fowl and other delicate meats competed with pastries, shaved chocolate and pies filled with sweet tart berries. The feast had been paired with wines of a dozen styles and worlds of origin, all of which would have cost as much as Sayeeda would have made in a month, or six months when she had been a Captain in Andor's Armored. Gabriella and Gredorius had toasted their daughters return from her 'travels' and thanked her 'friends' for conveying her home safely and for their 'loyal service' whilst she had been away. It was obvious that the fact Indra had been kidnapped was being kept quiet for political reasons, though Sayeeda neither knew nor cared what the were. Junebug did not know much about wine, but she did know a lot about drinking and after eight or nine toasts it all tasted pretty much the same.
Unfortunately the aftereffects were also similar. Sayeeda let out a groan and rolled over to curl up in the fetal position. She was dressed in her bra and the formal silk skirt she had worn the night before and had a vague memory of marching arm and arm down the hallway to her suite with Taya who was expansively detailing her claim to the ancient and defunct throne of Fornax. After a few minutes she marshalled the will to crack open an eyelid.
The room was sumptuously appointed with high ceilings and floors that seemed to be sheets of solid marble, though that was doubtlessly a cast rather than a natural occurrence. Tall arches looked out over a balcony with a stunning view of the sea and the steep drop down to the beach. There was a slight shimmer around the edges of the archways, a tell tale sign of sophisticated force fields that kept weather out without compromising the aesthetics.
Vases of fresh cut flowers stood on ornately carved wooden furniture, apparently out of the same fir trees that lined the mountainside. A side board of expensive looking liquor lined one wall, above which were a series of old fashioned paper books. On the bedside table lay a silver platter on which sat a high end but otherwise perfectly normal drug infuser. A folded card beside it was marked 'use it in good health'. Sayeeda made an undignified scrambled for the infuser, pressed it to her wrist and triggered it. There was a sharp hiss as the contents pumped into her veins. Anti-hangover cures varied tremendously throughout the galaxy and Sayeeda had tried many, but for personal choice an alcohol kelator paired with a hydration agent and a non-narcotic analgesic, couldn't be beat. She felt better almost immediately and within a minute or too she was on her feet.
The room was equipped with a large bathroom including a hot tub and a shower. She luxuriated under cool water, allowing it to wash the dust of Hahn away. It felt like the first time she had been clean in weeks and she spent a good twenty minutes allowing the water to dispel the last of her hangover.
"Sayeeda?" came a call from the main room. Sighing she terminated the shower sequence and wrapped a towel around her waist and chest, and quickly towled her hair dry. She stepped back into the main room to find Neil waiting in the antechamber.
"Whats up?"</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Indra clapped her hands excitedly as Neil paddled out on his board. The waves immediately began to grow in intensity as hidden grav panels buried beneath the sea floor began to agitate the water. Junebug realised that the unseasonably warm water must be a deliberately created condition. The amount of money that was required in order to achieve such an effect was staggering, especially as this place seemed to be the private preserve of Indra's family.
"Were you just flirting with Saxon?" Taya asked sotto voche. Junebug glanced at the girl, she had merely been polite to the Hex in her mind.
"Not deliberately," she responded. Taya nodded with some relief on her face.
"Good because Neil looked none too happy about it," she observed. Junebug gave the young noblewoman a speculative glance.
"Yeah well Neil dosen't get to control who I flirt with," she responded, her voice a little tighter than she had intended. Taya looked a little chagrined, having clearly stumbled into territory about which she knew nothing. Indra cheered as Neil caught a wave and began to ride it in towards the shore.
"Hey Saxon," she called. The lizardman's head swiveled towards her, forked lounge questing as though tasting the air.
"I have a few questions about your people," she began.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil had nearly hit an Algodade, one of the semi-aquatic giraffe like creatures that fed on both normal and underwater vegetation. Its head had popped up out of the water at just the wrong second, but Neil had managed to maneuver out of its way to keep himself from falling off, and from putting another damaged creature's life on his conscience. The maneuver sent him in a spin over a wave, impressively keeping his balance and landing to slide across the following tide toward the shallows.
Indra and her parents gave an applause, even her father seemed somewhat approving of his agility. Neil was just glad he still had it in him, though his happiness would be short lived when he saw Sayeeda poking at Saxon's arm, a curiosity evident in her eyes.
"What does your language sound like? I never asked," the Captain said with interest. Taya, having grown tired of tanning, had gone over to speak to Indra, taking her attention for the moment. Saxon's neck glowed a faded red, and his dewlap extended. Neil knew far more about Hexanagallions than most people, and it didn't sit well with him. She might as well have an extended dewlap neck too by the way she smiled.
None of my business though, he thought, trying to walk past them.
Goddamn, this was a big beach. Goddamn, he wished there was WIND, so he didn't have to listen to it.
Saxon began to do what could best be described as a warbling call that banged at the eardrums of anyone within 2 dozen yards, of which Neil was in the blast radius. Somehow, Sayeeda didn't seem to mind other than give a small wince. "Interesting...and what's your home planet like?"
Neil turned, unable to handle the rest. But he continued, describing the tropical wetland of a world his species evolved on. The world was evidently high gravity and filled with monstrous beasts, where only the strong survive.
He decided to walk away when Saxon began describing his early life. He'd read it all before, and he didn't like the gleam in Sayeeda's eye, though she did well to look at Neil when he wasn't looking to make sure he was in ear shot, until he wasn't.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda found herself growing more enthralled the more Saxon talked. She didn't think she had ever heard the Hex talk so much in the entire time she had known him. The alien phrased things in terms that reminded her of sagas or perhaps ritualistic recitation boasts. It fired her imagination, making her see an ancient and primordial forest though which hunters stalked great beasts. She wondered if they might ever get close enough to visit, although a whole planet full of Saxons...
"Join us Captain," Gabriella called, waving her to the table where servants were laying down platters of breakfast foods. Platters of meat cheese, and tropical fruit in a dazzling variety of colors. Bottles of what appeared to be juice cooled with fresh ice were lain in small buckets of decorated porcelain.
"Let us talk of business," she said with a nod to her husband and then cast a smile at Indra.
"And celebrate my daughters engagement, of course," she said raising her glass towards Neil and Indra. Taya's mouth fell open, though she managed to avoid actually gasping.
"Neil is getting married?!" she asked with a shocked look at her captain.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
"Isn't it wonderful?" Junebug asked, her face plastered with a smile that could only fool those bewildered like Taya, who honestly didn't know what to think. She had always pushed for Neil and Junebug to stop running circles around each other, but...if he was getting married.
Before 'business' could begin, Indra grabbed Neil and kissed him full on the lips in celebration, much how Neil had kissed Junebug not two weeks ago when they had managed to get off of Hahn. Neil flailed, not entirely knowing where to put his hands or what to do at all, being kissed in public and in front of Junebug, and also before their was even an agreement!
"So, what we offer Neil is obvious." Indra's mother said without even looking. "What we offer you is a very prized, highly sought after plasma weapon. A new rifle we are developing. My husband can give you the details." She said, and gaudily sipped her wine glass. Meanwhile, Saxon had begun to dig a very large hole in the sand a few paces off to the west for some unknown xenos purpose. It almost looked like a hole that a terran sea turtle would dig to lay eggs, but Neil knew that even with his alien biology, the Hexanagallion males didn't lay eggs.
Junebug's vision of Indra kissing Neil would be replaced by a portable vidcaster Gredorius placed in front of her face. It was a triple action, burst fire carbone. Triple action meaning the third action was DNA specific, and only she would be allowed to fire it. It also didn't necessarily fire plasma rounds. It was plasma fueled. The rounds were displacer rounds, that tore the targets apart atom by atom. It was a weapon, junebug knew, that most military's had laws against their usage within the branches.
"So, will you do it?"
"What about Saxon and Taya?" The Captain asked.
"I have an agreement with the Hexan. I could always use top enforcers in my line of work. Taya and I will discuss her employment, but I can only get to each of you so fast, and there is the reward for my daughter's safe return to consider. You will have it, and be ready to go on your assignment in three days time. Is this acceptable for you?"</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"We can work with that. Can you give us any more details about this assignment?" Sayeeda asked. Gregorious smiled an avuncular smile.
"Your eagerness does you credit Captain, but today is for celebrating my daughter's betrothal. A toast to the happy couple!"
It was nearly noon by the time Junebug was able to make her excuses and slip away from the gathering. Mostly to irritate Neil she invited Saxon to join her. The Hex agreed with what Sayeeda thought was enthusiasm but she was still having difficulty reading the alien's moods and emotions. They made their way down to the shipyard where the Highlander had been moved from its landing pad.
The slip the Highlander was moored in was a dry dock, evidently used to repair the ocean going warships of this world. Dozens of armored plates had been removed by hydraulic derricks and technicians swarmed over the ship, replacing wiring and refitting the components damaged in the blind RIP jump from the Terran Cruiser.
"It looks like a partially stripped kill," Saxon observed. Sayeeda shook her head.
"No, she is strong, she lives," Sayeeda disagreed as she walked down into drydock, ignoring the iodine smell of old seawater and the acrid byproducts of welders and soldering irons. It felt somewhat sacrilegious to have other people working on the ship, but the damage had been severe for the four of them to put right. She wondered how Neil would find it, living on Chalcedon with Indra, perhaps Taya would stay too make some kind of life for herself. A world with such a porous nobility would suit her. Junebug lay a hand on the hull of the Highlander feeling the cold metal under her finger tips.
"She is your X'anada," Saxon hissed behind her.
"My what?" Junebug asked.
"A steed for a warrior," the Hex hissed. Junebug trailed her fingers along the ship's armored plate.
"Something like," Junebug agreed. Whatever Neil decided to do this was no place for her. She didn't know that there was any place for her. Once this job was settled and the Highlander was repaired she would leave, although how she would do that without her pilot she had no idea.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil was lucky the hallway wasn't overly wide, or he would never have been able to pull off such a maneuver. He used to do this back in school often, when the teaching officials looked for him to mete out punishment. Now he found himself doing this to avoid Indra and the guards that she had ordered to find him as to invite him to some frivilious activity he had no idea of. It was a simple one, where he placed both arms out, along with both legs out, keeping the pressure on both sides to keep himself elevated above a normal human's field of vision within the hallway.
His rump touched the ceiling, he was so far up there. About a dozen feet or so, and as the multitudes of guards hustled past him and out of his chambers, he breathed a sigh of relief and still waited for a minute or two, just to be certain. Sure enough, two guardsmen hustled back in to see if he had been in there and had come out of hiding, but when they found nothing, they left. He'd been in too many hairy situations to not know how to get out of one.
"Goddamn..." he growled to himself, unable to even speak more than the single word, but he wanted to add 'Sayeeda' after it. She was making him jealous, and what's more he couldn't even blame her. She had bared her heart and soul and he had been too stupid to realize she had wanted him to tell her she was wrong. Granted, if she had talked to him about it back on Hahn this wouldn't be happening, but it had been a quick confession and-
"Shut up" he told himself, and dropped down to the floor. "Just stay out of sight and do what you need to do."
And so he did. He had to scale the outer walls of the palace, raking in more sweat than he cared to admit and nearly falling twice, but he made it to where he intended to go. It would be just at the cusp of evening when Sayeeda would make it back to her chambers, and she decided she needed to shower. She would have heard some small talk of him being missing, but nothing too serious. Once she was done with her shower, wrapped within her towel, she found the pilot sitting at the edge of her bed.
"You're wrong." He said to her before she could even give a question to why he was there. He looked up at her. "You are worth it. I'm just too stupid to realize that I should have said it yesterday." Rubbing his temples, he stood up. "Fuck all this. Fuck marrying her, fuck any of this. I'm sorry I'm braindead, but you mean a lot to me. More than any woman. So tell me off or order me to leave, but don't look at me like that. You said the same thing to me yesterday. I'm tired of doing this dance, and I'm tired of my part in it. So..."
He crossed his arms, looking at her. "What do you say?"
Not exactly romantic, but she was definitely a conundrum when it came to traditional romance.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda froze in shock for an instant as she emerged from the luxurious bathroom to find Neil sitting on her bed. She recovered almost instantly with the cavalry of charging forward when things got hairy. The afternoon had been spent looking over the work on the Highlander, which, given the budget of Indra's family and the workforce they had at their disposal, was proceeding at a more rapid pace than she could have hoped for. After that she had spent the afternoon with Saxon, she had been drinking and he had been chewing the odd herb which seemed to fill the role for his people that alcohol did for humans. He had taught her several words in Hex, mostly curses, which she could pronounce only with a great deal of hissing and spitting. It had been a pleasant way to pass the afternoon, distracting herself from the prospect of the upcoming wedding and the fact that she would be leaving Neil and probably Taya once the job here was done.
After that things had gotten complicated, though not, unfortunately, as complicated as they were likely to become in the next few minutes.
"You were all set to marry Indra yesterday," she said her voice steady despite the alcohol and the sense of spiralling disaster.
"You don't like the in-laws and are looking for a consolation prize?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.
The smart move would have been to order him to leave but despite her best efforts she was unable to do so. Steam rose from her skin as the vapors of the hot bath she had been taking cooled in the sub tropical air.</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug nodded to the two women, more to give herself a moment to think than for any need of acknowledgement. Her somewhat guilty consciences immediately leapt to the conclusion that they knew she had spent the night with Neil, although her intellect informed her that if that were the case this would be a very different conversation.
"I uh… don't sleep much," Junebug admitted. That much was true, combat fatigue, as the doctors called it, was always with you and many mercenaries relied on booze or drugs or a combination of both to keep the dreams at bay. Sayeeda wasn't quite there, though she did sleep better after a little alcohol and she often woke during the night in a cold sweat.
"It's just us girls here," Graciella said with a conspiratorial smile, leaning forward to keep her voice low.
"The servants told us you did quite a number on your bedding," she added.
"I've never known anyone who slept with a Hex before, so exotic" Indra said with a giggle. Junebug relaxed somewhat as the thrust of the conversation became clear and decidedly less dangerous. On many worlds it would have been bad form to ask, but sexual moraes varied dramatically from world to world. In a mercenary company graphic descriptions were all but expected the morning after.
"I can't say I had alot of time for sleeping," Sayeeda said, her voice warming at the memory of Neil's athletic body entwined in hers rather than the previous encounter with Saxon.
"It was … different," she said with a helpless shrug that bought a chuckle from both women.
"I dare say it was," Graciella said with a wicked grin. Further awkwardness was averted when one of the androids arrived to take their orders.
Junebug sat across from Neil and Indra enduring the small talk of one of the officials who had also been invited to the breakfast. It seemed the purpose of such events was to expose the movers and shakers of Gregorious' government to Neil as the future partner of his daughter. The fellow seemed to be in charge of controlling the fishing grounds that provided the bulk of the protein on this largely aquatic world, a topic in which he seemed unreasonablely interested to Sayeeda. She chewed mechanically on some sort of fruit that seemed partway between a lemon and a grapefruit. It was very sour but not unpleasantly so and the mild warmth she felt in her gums suggested that it had some mild narcotic effect also. Neil for his part seemed to alternate between uncomfortably returning Indra's obvious and public affections and glancing at her. Once, when Indra was distracted, she winked at him, causing him to blush adorablely.
After a sufficient interval had passed and the first courses of breakfast had been cleared away by the android servitors. Gregorious summoned Neil, Taya and Sayeeda to join him at the high table. Although it appeared to be a solid sheet of worked soapstone, when the older man touched the surface a shimmering filled the air and the background conversation seemed to mute to a dull buzz. Noise cancelling devices varied in quality, but they worked on a principle of creating the inverse of the incoming soundwaves and broadcasting it at a commensurate volume but at a frequency too high for human ears to register. This one, like the table, was obviously of a very high order.
"Ah a little privacy," Gregorious declared with his usual air of bonhomie.
"I think it is time we discussed the task we have in mind for you, I'm sure you ladies are eager to begin the wedding planning but business before pleasure as they say." He reached forward and touched the table once more and a holographic representation of the surface of Cylonieka sprung into sharp relief. Junebug glanced around in concern.
"If you are worried about secrecy people can still see us," she pointed out, though none of the diners seemed to be glancing in their direction.
"Your concern does you justice Captain," Gregorious conceded, "but there is a holographic cancelation field also, all that our friends out there can see is six people enjoying breakfast." Sayeeda nodded in agreement. She would still have preferred to be discussion mission specifics in private, but he was paying and so they would do it his way unless it presented an unreasonable risk. The map zoomed in to show a section of ocean. There current location was marked as were several surrounding islands also controlled by Graciella's family. The whole area was shaded in green. Beyond the green area were other smaller islands and groups of islands, colored in blue for what Sayeeda assumed to be neutral. Further south towards the equator were several red islands and a number of what appeared to be artificial platforms.
"In a week or so Cyloneika will be hosting an open recruit to assemble a force of mercenaries," Gregorius explained. Vanek had mentioned something to the effect back on Hahn now that Sayeeda thought about it, though she hadn't given it much thought since they had escaped that parched desert world.
"The purpose of this recruitment is a preparation for an attack on New Cadiz, a planet a few days jump away that has been sponsoring attacks on our shipping in order to try to blackmail us into joining an 'alliance' it is setting up." Junebug nodded along, planets with larger economies or simply more united leadership often tried to expand their influence to their neighbours, launching attacks on their merchant traffic was an effective and time honored way of convincing an enemy of the benefits of paying tribute. In theory a world like Cylonieka could construct a space navy to defend its merchant fleet but the expense of such an operation was immense and the process both slow and likely to provoke a confrontation sooner rather than later. Assembling an army and striking at the enemy planet wasn't cheap, but it was cheaper than the alternative.
"Our house is, of course, contributing to the cost of this operation," Graciella added.
"We are just one small ship," Taya objected, "surely…" but Gregrius was already shaking his head.
"No, we dont need you to sign on as part of our invasion force, although that is certainly possible if you are interested in transporting supplies or troops," he went on, his eyes making it clear he was speaking to Sayeeda and Taya and leaving his prospective son in law out of it.
"Unfortunately a highly placed agent of our has defected," Gregorius said, tapping the keypad again to bring up a holo of a nondescript balding man in his late forties.
"Javier Pradec," Gregorius identified.
"He has fled to the island of Canjar, to seek shelter with the freebooters and pirates that lair there," Gregorius explained.
"We need you to infiltrate the island and kill Pradec before he can slip off planet and share his secrets," the older man went on.
"And you need us to do this as opposed to your own troops because…" Junebug pried, something about the whole explanation seemed wrong, though she couldn't quite put her finger on why. Gregorius sighed theatrically.
"If the other houses knew that Mr Pradec had defected, they might conclude that he had already shared our plans with New Cadiz, it would be a disaster for us, win or lose," Greogrious explained. Sayeeda could see that the other Noble Houses would be quick to blame Gregorious if the invasion failed, or they might use it to try to cheat him out of his spoils if it succeeded.
"We just can't take the risk that one of our people will open their mouths," Graciella expanded.
"And you don't mind risking the life of your son-in-law and crown prince or whatever to get it done?" Junebug asked. The question was a little beneath her, but it was early and she hadn't gotten much sleep. Gregorious' face hardened.
"When someone marries into our nobility, we judge a match based on the merits of the man or woman involved Captain Cykali," the grey haired man explained, glancing towards Indra for a moment.
"While I would be saddened to see my daughter broken hearted, if Mr Edwards were to be killed completing this task, he is not the man we imagine him to be."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The feed showed the island in its entirety. One thousand, two hundred and sixty seven square miles of dense jungle and rocky crags amid the Cylonieka ocean, about one hour hard flight with sublight engines to the west. From the look of the highlander, it seemed like they had already fixed up much of it. Neil had been surprised when he had infiltrated in there this morning, but much of the outer damage and the power couplings had been repaired. They could potentially fly out tomorrow, if the hanger mechanics and Neil still worked on it.
"So no pressure," Neil said at the Admiral's foreboding words on his use as a man, diffusing the sudden grimness of the situation. Indra couldn't help but smile and Taya gave a lopsided one as well, familiar with Neil's way but ever amused by it. "What's one more dangerous situation among inlaws?" The Pilot patted Gredorius on the back briskly, as if they'd known one another for years. "Right pops?"
"Don't call me that."
"Got it." He replied, giving him the finger guns. To the casual viewer or the normal friend, people would believe he's just being himself. Stretching the limit of what was acceptable and being charming as he did it. But past that, he was actually taken off guard and trying to hide it. Not by the mission. He had been telling the truth. Dangerous situations was something he wasn't too afraid of anymore. It was Junebug. The way she looked at him confirmed that it wasn't simply a one night stand, which of course was what he wanted. But while he danced like a monkey for Indra's family, his captain gave him these looks which was torturous. Even now, she had a way of seeing into his head. While he joked he saw a smile curve on her lips as her eyes bore into his, and somehow he felt like he was the one staring.
"Neil?" Taya asked with concern, and the Pilot snapped out of it blinking. He looked around at the others and they were all watching him curiously. Except Gredorious and Gabriella who were whispering among themselves, likely over another matter.
"Yeah, what's up?"
"I was joking. I was asking if you were planning on spending the night in the Highlander again." She echoed, and rewinding it he did recall her asking that in the back of his head. Now it wasn't a joke, something awkward since he'd been zoned out earlier. Neil chuckled. "Hey, you know me. I eat, sleep, and sweat starship oil. Anyway, sir? Er... Gredorious?" He tapped the man on the shoulder, and he turned back, mustache edged like a blade and eyes just as sharp.
"What are we dealing with here. Can we get some more details?" He inquired.
Clearing his throat, the officer gave a small nod as if to acquiesce to being interrupted this time, as it was pertinent information. "Javier Pradec was an intelligence officer. He had the codes to some of our armament stations and when he defected, a number of small arms and two notable missile platforms went missing. You can expect them to be armed with such devices."
"Plasma weaponry?" Neil asked, and Junebug crossed her arms in agreement at the apprehension in his voice. Gredorious looked between the two. "About two dozen plasma based pistols, but much of it was slug and lasrifle equipment. Though he could have acquired other weaponry through different means. As you might surmise, those who buy and sell on the galactic blackmarket are not subject to the tariffs we are."
"How many hostiles?" The Captain asked, placing both hands on the display.
"Unknown. Three dozen men followed him from here, so I would estimate fifty or more. Now is that all?"</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"So the four of us against an unknown number of enemies dug in on their home ground," Junebug said in a neutral tone. Gregorious nodded.
"If we could afford a larger footprint we would use a naval bombardment," the Chancellor explained. He taped the hologram of Pradec, his finger distorting the hologram for a moment.
"We don't need to kill everyone on the island, we just need Pradec dead and his files wiped," Gregorious said. Junebug nodded, though she hadn't been objecting per se. If she had been planning this mission she would have suggested a small team infiltration.
"I think we can handle it," Junebug said dryly. The Highlander and her crew had certainly done tougher jobs for less reward. Gregorious nodded and made a flicking gesture, the screen blanked and a small PDA at the center of the table beeped in receipt of the transmission. Junebug scooped it up and tucked it into a pocket in the jacket she was wearing. Indra sat up looking considerably brighter now that the business discussion seemed concluded.
"Now we have wedding plans to make," she said with a radiant smile. Neil smiled back though the expression seemed a little forced. Junebug coughed in polite disagreement.
"I'm sorry Indra, but I'm going to need my team to go over the tactical options," she said, feeling a little guilty at the way the other woman's face fell. The situation was complicated enough without her making it worse. Gregorious however nodded.
"A proper attitude for a soldier," the chancellor nodded in approval. Graciella nodded also, though she gave her daughter a brief sympathetic glance. Both parents were clearly concerned that Neil would be killed and Indra's heart would be broken. Well that was a reasonable concern.
"Also the armorers should be done with the plasma weapon by now, you should swing by and see them."</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The feed showed the island in its entirety. One thousand, two hundred and sixty seven square miles of dense jungle and rocky crags amid the Cylonieka ocean, about one hour hard flight with sublight engines to the west. From the look of the highlander, it seemed like they had already fixed up much of it. Neil had been surprised when he had infiltrated in there this morning, but much of the outer damage and the power couplings had been repaired. They could potentially fly out tomorrow, if the hanger mechanics and Neil still worked on it.
"So no pressure," Neil said at the Admiral's foreboding words on his use as a man, diffusing the sudden grimness of the situation. Indra couldn't help but smile and Taya gave a lopsided one as well, familiar with Neil's way but ever amused by it. "What's one more dangerous situation among inlaws?" The Pilot patted Gredorius on the back briskly, as if they'd known one another for years. "Right pops?"
"Don't call me that."
"Got it." He replied, giving him the finger guns. To the casual viewer or the normal friend, people would believe he's just being himself. Stretching the limit of what was acceptable and being charming as he did it. But past that, he was actually taken off guard and trying to hide it. Not by the mission. He had been telling the truth. Dangerous situations was something he wasn't too afraid of anymore. It was Junebug. The way she looked at him confirmed that it wasn't simply a one night stand, which of course was what he wanted. But while he danced like a monkey for Indra's family, his captain gave him these looks which was torturous. Even now, she had a way of seeing into his head. While he joked he saw a smile curve on her lips as her eyes bore into his, and somehow he felt like he was the one staring.
"Neil?" Taya asked with concern, and the Pilot snapped out of it blinking. He looked around at the others and they were all watching him curiously. Except Gredorious and Gabriella who were whispering among themselves, likely over another matter.
"Yeah, what's up?"
"I was joking. I was asking if you were planning on spending the night in the Highlander again." She echoed, and rewinding it he did recall her asking that in the back of his head. Now it wasn't a joke, something awkward since he'd been zoned out earlier. Neil chuckled. "Hey, you know me. I eat, sleep, and sweat starship oil. Anyway, sir? Er... Gredorious?" He tapped the man on the shoulder, and he turned back, mustache edged like a blade and eyes just as sharp.
"What are we dealing with here. Can we get some more details?" He inquired.
Clearing his throat, the officer gave a small nod as if to acquiesce to being interrupted this time, as it was pertinent information. "Javier Pradec was an intelligence officer. He had the codes to some of our armament stations and when he defected, a number of small arms and two notable missile platforms went missing. You can expect them to be armed with such devices."
"Plasma weaponry?" Neil asked, and Junebug crossed her arms in agreement at the apprehension in his voice. Gredorious looked between the two. "About two dozen plasma based pistols, but much of it was slug and lasrifle equipment. Though he could have acquired other weaponry through different means. As you might surmise, those who buy and sell on the galactic blackmarket are not subject to the tariffs we are."
"How many hostiles?" The Captain asked, placing both hands on the display.
"Unknown. Three dozen men followed him from here, so I would estimate fifty or more. Now is that all?"</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"So the four of us against an unknown number of enemies dug in on their home ground," Junebug said in a neutral tone. Gregorious nodded.
"If we could afford a larger footprint we would use a naval bombardment," the Chancellor explained. He taped the hologram of Pradec, his finger distorting the hologram for a moment.
"We don't need to kill everyone on the island, we just need Pradec dead and his files wiped," Gregorious said. Junebug nodded, though she hadn't been objecting per se. If she had been planning this mission she would have suggested a small team infiltration.
"I think we can handle it," Junebug said dryly. The Highlander and her crew had certainly done tougher jobs for less reward. Gregorious nodded and made a flicking gesture, the screen blanked and a small PDA at the center of the table beeped in receipt of the transmission. Junebug scooped it up and tucked it into a pocket in the jacket she was wearing. Indra sat up looking considerably brighter now that the business discussion seemed concluded.
"Now we have wedding plans to make," she said with a radiant smile. Neil smiled back though the expression seemed a little forced. Junebug coughed in polite disagreement.
"I'm sorry Indra, but I'm going to need my team to go over the tactical options," she said, feeling a little guilty at the way the other woman's face fell. The situation was complicated enough without her making it worse. Gregorious however nodded.
"A proper attitude for a soldier," the chancellor nodded in approval. Graciella nodded also, though she gave her daughter a brief sympathetic glance. Both parents were clearly concerned that Neil would be killed and Indra's heart would be broken. Well that was a reasonable concern.
"Also the armorers should be done with the plasma weapon by now, you should swing by and see them."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Needless to say, Neil found that he simply had to go with Sayeeda and Taya to check out her new weapon. Being alone with Indra and her parents was not something he was comfortable with at the moment, and so the scene shifted to the three of them down three levels below the crest of the mountain, under the Palace proper.
They were in a steel, utilitarian hall with blast doors being the only entrance and exit from the entire facility. It seemed the royal family had an interest in being innovative when it came to defense and warcraft. There was a long glass window, three inches thick. Within were vast hydraulic systems placing battle mechs and smaller spacecraft together as engineers welded steel and refitted various power units and weapons systems.
The unit of guardsmen leading them guided the group past the long hall into the next, smaller one toward the end of the corridor. Entering, the room was outfitted with overlapping layers of wall set into 'floors' with weapons fitted over each of them. In the center was a man dressed in a labcoat, though his face and head were hidden behind his protective headgear and goggles.
"Ah, I see our guests have arrived." He said in a peculiar accent, his voice modulated through some kind of breathing aparatus, and he seemed to move his hands as if using them for secondary expression, lifting them up in surprise. "So, who is this lovely-" and he traced the outline of the gun with one gloved hand. "weapon for? We will need a small DNA sample from their blood to place in the weapon's feed to grant the third action of the gun. Once we complete that, you may test fire it if you'd like at our experimental range."
One of the guards turned and nearly jumped back, pointing his rifle at Neil. "Hey! Put that down!" he ordered, and the others suddenly noticed the Pilot was holding a high-tech Grenade Launcher, retrofitted with a 3x scope and 8 chambers for varying types of grenades. Neil looked from the gun to the guards. "Hey whoa, this isn't loaded. I just had to admire it."</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The lancet stung Junebugs finger as the tiny blade sampled her blood before a tiny drop of sealant sprayed over the damaged capillaries. There was a whirring click as the palm sized unit sequenced her DNA and then printed it onto a small chip the size of a fingernail. Another technician bought forward a shock proof metal case and opened it with a key that hung around his neck from a lanyard. Inside the case was a boxy looking rifle. It was a little shorter than most assault weapons she had handled but thicker around the barrel, with standard holographic sites as well as iron sights for emergencies. It had no ejection port that she could see but a number of integral heat sinks that looked like they could be manually expelled if the weapon got too hot, a design she had seen on some high end vehicle mounted plasma weaponry. It usually didn't matter too much as the kind of rate of fire one needed to maintain to fill the heat sinks was enough to melt and deform the barrel. A standard powercell was set forward of the trigger assembly as well as a bullpup style rear magazine behind it. The whole unit was sheathed in high density plastic rather than metal and coloured in dark green and gray.
"The ACR-18," the technician said proudly, lifting the weapon from the foam insert inside the case and pulling free the rubber shock pad that covered the butt to reveal several input jacks and chip slots. He slipped the chip into the slot and clicked it home before replacing the cover and handing the weapon to Sayeeda. The weight was surprising especially given the plastic used in its construction. The technician nodded at her slight hesitation.
"We had to use plastic to keep the weight down," he explained, "the early prototypes were too heavy to be easily man, or woman, portable." Sayeeda ignored the feeble jest and bought the weapon to her shoulder finding the balance to be to her liking.
"The rounds are…" the tech began but Sayeeda was already stripping the magazine and thumbing one of the brass cartridges free. The round itself was light and to Sayeeda's surprise hollow, with the rear section open. The interior was smooth and extremely shiny.
"The plasma generator creates the displacer field," the technician explained with evident pride.
"The rounds simply serve as jackets to keep it contained till the arrive, once it hits the deformation will destroy the round and everything within about a five centimeter radius."
Junebug bounced the little brass round on her palm for a moment and then fed it back into the magazine. It seemed to be a simply spring load which was a good sign. Humanity had developed a plethora of advanced weapons in the several millennia since the invention of gunpowder, but the cleverest idea in a lab tended to break down in the dust, mud and general hard use of a battlefield.
"Are the rounds just brass?" she asked as she clicked the magazine back into place. The technician nodded enthusiastically.
"Sure are, though any metal with a high enough reflective index will do the job, you can create the rounds using any basic metal fabrication unit," he bubbled. Junebug nodded her understanding, pleased that the rounds themselves were easy to manufacture. Exotic weaponry was often hard to keep operational either because the parts or the ammunition was hard to come by. It sounded like the machine shop on the Highlander would be advanced enough to turn out ammunition.
One of the other technicians took the grenade launcher from Neil's hands with a lofty expression.
"Better let him keep that," Junebug told the fellow.
"This isn't for public…" he began but Junebug arched an eyebrow at him.
"You can discuss it with Lady Graciella, I'm sure she will be interested to know that you are taking steps that decrease the likelihood her fiance will survive to reach the wedding day," she pointed out reasonably. The tech paused and glanced at the leader who nodded. With evident reluctance the tech handed the weapon back to the pilot who offered him a sardonic bow.
"If you will step this way madam…" the accented scientist said with a surprisingly courtly gesture. The stepped through another set of blast doors and down a short flight of stairs to a long thin corridor, one wall of which was open at waist height to overlook a shooting range. The range ran about a hundred meters and was lit with recessed chemical light behind armored glass. Humanoid mannequins studded firing lanes at various distances, they seemed to be made of some sort of pliable plastic. Damage to the targets was evidently repaired by the simple expedient of replacing the destroyed material with moulds. Slight differences in the dye batches meant that despite the fact the targets were uniformly tan, they were covered in leperous patches that differed slightly from those around them.
Junebug stepped up to the range and flicked off the safety before pulling back the charging handle with a snap. What she had taken for a square of green plastic turned red. Apparently some sort of colometic diode, a better choice than an LED for situations in which stealth or concealment was necessary. A shot clock made of similar diode informed her she had a full thirty rounds in the magazine. Junebug sniffed with a professional disdain, any professional could judge the load in a weapon by the weight to within a round or two, but that was usually lost on civilians. The flicked on the holographic sights and took aim at one of the distant mannequins before squeezing the trigger. The rifle cracked, feeling similar to a chemical variant though there was a slight high frequency hum in the background. The head of the mannequin was suddenly missing a chunk the size of a large orange, excavating the right eye socket almost to its ear.
"Nice shooting mist.." the technican began but Junebug clicked the shot selector to automatic and squeezed the trigger in a long burst, the mannequin flopped to the ground cut in half from the mid section by the sustained fire. Several large perfectly circular divots appeared in the far wall of the range as rounds struck the stone wall, destroying them with as little difficulty as they had the mannequin. The air around the barrel shimmered slightly but the weapon didn't appear to be having any difficulty with the sustained burst, none of the heat sinks even seemed to have adsorbed a charge.
"As you can see the displacer round has roughly the same effect no matter what it hits," the chief technician pronounced proudly. Junebug clicked the safety back on and stripped out the partially expended magazine before she realised she didn't have a fresh one to replace it with.
"Very cool," she admitted grudgingly before passing the weapon back to the technician. He clicked the saftey off and then pointed the weapon downrange, squeezing the trigger. Nothing happened as the weapon refused to fire.
"The genelock seems to be working perfectly," he said, "I do hope that when your mission is complete you can provide us with some images of the field test?"</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
A brief review of Cylonikean history had revealed that Indra was effectively a sort of hereditary constitutional monarch, although with more of the attributes of a monarch than a figure head. This particular honor passed down the matrilineal line and the women were expected to choose mates with useful genetic traits and skills. Graciella remained the reigning Queen until that point which meant that even if Neil married the girl, he would have a long time to wait before he was elevated to the position of Royal Consort. Of course that presupposed a lot of things, like Junebug not strangling the girl in the next few minutes.
"I don't understand why you can't just fly your ship to this island and be done with it," Indra said, repeating the theme if not exactly the words of several previous questions. Indra wasn't stupid, on the contrary she was quite intelligence, but the tactical consideration an operation like this were too far outside her experience to grasp more than the vauge outlines.
They all sat around a holo console that had been set up in the Highlander's hold. Though there were comperable and better facillities in the palace, Junebug had claimed that she had specialized software on the ship, that that wasn't the case. Primarily she had hoped to simply get rid of Indra who had been tagging along ever since they returned from the weapons range. A guilty conscience told Junebug that Indra suspected something and was watching the pair of them, though this couldn't have really been the case. Unfortunately barring flat out ejecting the Princess of the nation hiring her from a planning session, Junebug didn't have an easy way to get rid of her.
"Pradec and his men certainly have a sensor net deployed," Junebug explained patiently. She touched a control and the hologram shifted to imagery taken by a communications satellite. It showed a vessel, a pirate vessel judging from its sleek design and heavy weaponry heading towards the island. As they watched great geyser of water erupted around it and the ship veered violently and raced away pursued by similar water spouts. With another touch of a control Junebug added in reciprocal courses that the computer figured from radar returns and analysis of the imagery.
"These are 18 or 20 inch shells," Junebug explained, indicating with an extended finger to the origin point of the ballistic track, an apparently empty stretch of concrete outside of a dug in series of buildings in a shallow valley pointed south from the dormant volcano that formed the center of the islands spine.
"I don't see any guns," Taya interjected, though her tone wasn't one of doubt.
"They have a holographic screen over them, the refresh rate from the satellite isn't good enough to pick up the shells breaking the barrier." It was actually a fairly clever trick, although the exact circumstances that made it work were rare. In Sayeeda's experience the first thing any two hostile forces did was shoot down all the satellites.
"The take away is that they opened fire a few moments after that ship came into line of sight of the peak of the volcano, so its safe to assume they have a sensor station up there somewhere. We can't risk flying the Highlander or…" she trailed off, a sly smile lighting her face.
"Thirty Seconds," Taya said over the intercom. Junebug settled the helmet over her head, engaging the holographic display. Neil and Saxon did the same, though in the case of the Hex it didn't look like it fit very well, with his snout pressing up against the glass. Junebug gave Neil an appraising glance, though he was still grinning like a school boy. This plan was tactically sound, but it's audacity appealed to Neil more than the conventional alternatives. He shouldered the strange device he wore on his back. It looked similar to a surfboard case, eight feet in diameter and two across. All three of them wore a similar device as well as a bulging duffel bag of weapons and equipment strapped across their chests.
There hadn't been a good time to talk with Neil since the previous evening, between Indra's presence and the possibility of listening devices. Even now it probably wasn't smart, but given the likelihood of dying in the next few minutes it seemed worth the risk. She reached out and squeezed Neil's arm, her face unreadable behind the darkened mask of his helmet.
"I can't ask you to give up living like a prince," she said quietly.
"But I'm not talking the job with Gregorious, when we are done here I'm leaving this rock and I want you to come with me.
"Ten seconds," Taya prompted over the intercom. Junebug turned and took her position at the top of the cargo bay. Neil and Saxon took up positions to her left and right, staring at the closed bay doors at the end of the hold.
"Sayeeda…" Neil began but she held up a hand.
"Tell me later," she instructed.
"Run!" Taya shouted, the excitement and strain evident in her voice. All three of them sprinted towards the cargo bay doors. With a scream of protest the Highlander lurched out from under them, all four of her big thrusters firing in opposition to her current course. At the same instant the cargo bay door dropped open and all three of them were pitched violently from the hold. Ten thousand meters below the surface of Cyloneika glittered and shone. From this altitude she could see the day night divider hazily creeping towards what her helmet navigator informed her was their objective. The wind howled passed her as she tore through the air, fractionally below the speed of sound. Fortunately they were high enough and the air thin enough that the ejection from the highlander didn't smash them to paste. Spreading her arms and carefully twisting her body she lined herself up with the indicated safe zone on her helmet display and then slapped the deployment stud on her right shoulder. There was a sudden deafening WOOOSH as Polymer wings twenty feet in length sprang from the unit on her back, her careful angle allowing her to hold onto the velocity the Highlander had imparted to her without tearing her limb from limb. She gripped the two control sticks on her belt and adjusted her course minisculely, nosing down slightly to match the computers optimum projected aerodynamics. Neil had modeled the units of racing gliders he had seen in the past, but the goal in this case wasn't speed but distance. The launch from the Highlander gave them enough velocity that they should be able to glide to the island several hundred miles away without enough metal on them to worry any ground based observers.
Clouds whipped by as Junebug continued her decent, whipping past in a white blur. Her helmet displayed her speed as something close to four hundred KPH, calculated terminal velocity was 423 KPH so she nosed down slightly to pick up speed. The computer refigured her vector and placed her in the green, marginally, for reaching the island. She couldn't turn her head, and it was dangerous to use radios, but the two green beads, a result of a broadcast of broadcast from the Highlander disguised as innocuous weather data, indicated that Neil and Saxon had both, thus far, survived the jump.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
It might not have been a hoverboard like on Hahn, but he could make do. The wind was almost unbearable, and the air pressure would have crushed almost anything smaller than a human being. But this was where the pilot shined like a collapsing star. He might not have the same control and combat ability as Sayeeda, but he was expert when it came to agility and balance. High g, low g, no g, air pressure, tight rope, it was one of Neil's gifts. While the others were hurtling through the air, within seconds he knew just how to maneuver, and he took a moment to appreciate the stars above them. Cylonieka was truly a beautiful planet, much like ancient Terra from the holorecords he'd seen back in school. The sea expanded beyond all senses, the mountains rose out of the sea like trees, and the island they were set to land on appeared past a wisp of cloud.
Since he had taken a liesurely descent, he saw Sayeeda ahead of him by 100 meters, with Saxon a few meters behind and a dozen meters to the north of her. The Hex's bulk was likely helping him move faster without his complete consent, and for a single moment Neil had a dark thought of if he could cause the Xeno's glider to malfunction. Not out of any real jealousy, but because the monstrous humanoid had still promised to kill him someday. Then again, with Neil's luck the mother fucker would survive, and recently they had been able to at least work together. He pushed the thought aside and instead decided to make the best of the situation.
He might not hamper him, but he could fuck with him.
Increasing speed, Neil banked to the left. They had all begun to slow the second they left the Highlander, but Neil picked up velocity until he was .6 the speed of sound, easily encroaching upon the Hexanagallion's airspace. Once Saxon noticed Neil to his right, Neil couldn't help but laugh. The Xenos seemed even more like an asteroid upclose, heavy and going in a lumbering, straight route. "Hey Swamp water, need some help?" Neil called through the comm.
"Flee my presence, whelp" Saxon growled back, but Neil instead decided to scoop into an ascent before incredibly spinning, end over end over the Hex to steady himself on the other side of him. "Sorry, can't hear you! This wind is so loud I can barely think. I guess that's how you feel most of the time, eh?"
The Hexa lurched at him, only to lose balance for a moment and sink a few meters, before he righted himself. Neil had dodged expertly, then waved at him from above. He cupped his hands, even though the mic was still on. "You're getting the hang of this!" He called, and turned off Saxon's garbling curses as they were merely a mile and a half above the island. It looked to be a seashell, a near circle of mountains with an abrupt end at its eastern edge, likely where much of its sea-going vessels were held. Each member of the squad began to slow their flight, and the beacon on their radar was located at the southern edge of the jungle just between the mountainous beach and the inner island.
"See you guys ground side!" Neil called to both of them.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug dived towards the water following the navigation line in her HUD. Her attention was too focused on the task to worry overmuch about Neil and Saxon's bickering. Most of her experience had been with skimmers and flying did not come naturally to her, she had to fight her instincts to get close to the ground and prevent the smallest possible target. The three gliders dropped to nearly sea level for the final approach, racing over the water low enough that Sayeeda could see the turbulence from Neil's wings whipping a white line across the green gray waters. They were actually on a slight upward trajectory now, using drag to slow them down as they raced toward the island while staying low enough to stay out of line of sight. The white gold sand raced toward them as they zipped over reefs and shoals at breakneck speed. Junebug had initially been in favor of inserting undercover of darkness, but Neil had reasonably argued that neither she nor Saxon had any experience with this kind of jump and complicating it by doing it in the dark only increased the risk without significantly improving their chances of avoiding detection.
By the time she crossed over the sand the airspeed was down to about thirty meters a second, still fast enough to kill her instantly if she made a mistake but almost languid compared to the near supersonic speed they had started out with, she lifted her control surface slightly and zoomed up over treeline and let the air break her until, at the last minute, she pulled up into a climb which killed the last of her speed and she fell the five meters to the ground. Her wings hit the jungle canopy and inevitably tangled, suspending her three or four meters above the jungle floor. It wasn't exactly quiet, exotic birds cawed and other creatures yowled as the morning sunlight warmed the jungle, but compared to the almost deafening windrush of the past few minutes it seemed oddly serene. There was a crash somewhere off to her right as Saxon landed less gracefully than she had managed, crashing through the canopy to the ground. Junebug reached out and toggled the release catch on her chest harness, dropping the equipment bag to the ground below with a heavy thud. That accomplished she wrapped her legs around a nearby tree branch and unbuckled her wings before dropping gracefully to the leaf covered canopy below. There was no practical way to recover the wings and little likelihood anyone would stumble across them in any case so she abandoned them in place. Reaching the ground she removed the jump helmet and harness, stripping down to the cotton undershirt before opening her equipment bag to retrieve her own breastplate and weapons.
"Neil are you down ok?" she asked over her low powered mastoid radio. The weight of the ceramic breastplate was comforting as she slipped into it and closed the seals with deft snaps. She slung her rifle and checked the load before pulling on a web harness with a dozen pouches hung from its belt and H-straps, ammunition, explosives, and other equipment they were likely to need for the job.</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug moved off at a brisk walk. While she wasn't an infantryman, she had worked on enough jungles to have some idea of how to move. Rainwater runoff had carved what were now dry streams through the vegetation and she used one as a footpath to work her way inland towards the rendezvous point. The light amplification function on her helmet was the best choice for the conditions, gathering up starlight and applying a computer enhancement to the result that rendered the jungle in a black and white approximation of daylight. Without active sensor inputs the result didn't give her great depth perception, but was far better than staggering around in the dark would have been.
Despite using the dry creekbed she was frequently obliged to climb over fallen trees or work her way through networks of vines. As the slope grew steeper she was also forced to climb several small rock faces, rarely more than ten feet or so but enough to slow her down and ensure that she was sweating by the time she closed in on the Rendevous. As she reached the top of the last rockface she spotted Neil crouching behind a three bhole some thirty meters ahead of her. Beyond him the motion detector carroted a bored looking soldier in green on black battle dress meandering along a game trail, a cigarette between his lips highlighted by her infrared sensors.
Where Saxon was she had no idea, though given she had seen him come down, he couldn't be two far away. The night was suddenly split by a monstrous bellow that seemed to combine elements of a Terran elephant and some sort of vast serpent. The guard froze for a moment, his hand going to his rifle before he hurriedly checked something on his wrist before seeming to relax. Junebug frowned, uncertain as to what was going on, and uncertainty was something with which no veteran was comfortable. Crouching down behind a large rock she waited for the guard to past by or, if it was necessary, for Neil to take him out.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil stayed mercifully still as he peered into the perimeter. The guard seemed alone, though he knew patrol as much as most soldiers himself. There would be another one in a few scant minutes likely. He needed to make a split second decision. He either eschewed from killing the guard here, and left them thinking everything was alright for awhile longer. He he took him down and made it so they had to deal with one less guard. Truth be told, he wanted to take him out, but the other two hadn't shown up to his position yet.
That is until he heard the vast roar that he swore shook the leaves of the exotic foliage, widening Neil's eyes. "What in the goddamn fuck was that?" he whispered, and saw the guard's strange reaction. There was no way this island was big enough to have a large native beast that could roar like that. It either had to be mostly aquatic, or needed to be here on purpose within the bunker. Judging by the lack of concern from the guard, it wasn't an aquatic wildcard.
He decided to wait again, just a few moments more. He still didn't know if he should fire, but-
Another bellow erupted from within, and Neil took the shot on instinct. Three rounds entered the soldier's subclavien artery and right upper lobe, dropping him with a stagger. He fell noiselessly, and Neil realized he needed to go and move the body before someone else came around. A second later, he willed himself to move. He shouldered the carbine and took out his knife just in case he ran into something or someone, and crept through the brush toward the body, eyes on the moist, leaf colored forest floor to keep himself from stepping on any well laid traps.
If he tripped any sensors, they were silent ones. He felt intensely exposed stepping out onto the clear path. The right led to a curve that fed into a walkway. To the left went into a small jungle path. At his feet, the man groaned, clearly bleeding out and nearly out of consciousness. Neil knelt down. "Sorry, bud." He said, and stuck his knife into the man's throat. The soldier's eyes widened, and he slumped, his life fading into oblivion as Neil dragged him off the path before he bled too much to cover up.
He got what an insurgent deserved, but still. The bestial roar and his reaction to it still gave Neil pause. The pilot checked the man's pockets, wondering what he could find in there. A short range radio, some flares, a strange beacon, and a shock stick along with his primary weapon. The Plasma XE Assault Rifle.
"They really decked you guys out with these weapons didn't they?" He whispered to himself.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Sayeeda moved quickly towards Neil pleased and impressed that he had taken the insurgent down quietly. She was only thirty meters away when suddenly a rock leaped at her, carroted rather belated on her motion detector. She swung her weapon to bear instinctively but the thing was almost the size of a battle tank. Its body temperature was within a few degrees of ambient, close enough that her AI had assumed it was a boulder holding a little residual heat from sunlight but now that it was in motion the mistake was obvious. It was ten meters in length and three meters to the top of its horned head. Bony protrusions served as natural armor and three long tusks protruded in a delta pattern from the center of its face. It stank of rotting vegetation and some sort of organic decay, bad enough that the nose filters in Junebug's helmet clamped shut in case it was harmful. Sayeeda managed to squeeze off a shot before the tusk hit her like a medicine ball, slamming her chestplate against her and pitching her into the air. She tumbled for a moment before another toss of the things head smashed into her ribs, this time the point of the tusk tangled in her webbing and she dangled, stunned from the point of the things upper right tusk. She regained her senses enough to fire her rifle. It was impossible to miss at this range but the displacer round merely pulped a dinner plate sized portion of armor, lacking the penetration to reach the things vitals. She squeezed the trigger to use a burst but the thing went berserk stomping its feet and tossing its head so that she tossed like a rag doll. She had the confused impression of Neil shouting as the world whirled around her in a dizzying disorienting blur. Desperately she dropped her rifle, allowing the sling to catch it and pulled a cutting bar from her belt. Aware that the cutting bar was as dangerous to her as the creature she pressed it against the tusk and powered it on. Counterturning diamond teeth whired and bit, and there was a spray of bone and what might have been blood. The maddened creature bellowed in pain and tossed its head violently. The tusk gave way with a crack and Junebug flew free, arcing through the air and crashing into Neil, knocking him flat with the combined weight of her body and the bony lump still tangled in her webbing. For a moment she lay atop the pilot dazed before she felt the thunder of the thing charging towards them. Letting out a sulphurous oath she rolled onto her back, dizzy and pained to the point that the world momentarily rendered itself in shade of gray and red.
The thing was bellowing mad as it charged, great gobets of foam dripping from its mouth and dark blood running from the stump of its severed tusk. It barreled towards them like a freight car and Junebug swung her rifle to bear. Suddenly the thing screamed and flinched backwards, churning up the earth as it attempted to reverse its progress. It wheeled away as though repelled by some shield, turned and tried to press home again only to scream and vere off once more. Junebug came up in to a kneeling stance and aimed at the thing, but it bellowed in frustration once more and then bounded off into the trees, shattering saplings as it fled. For a moment the jungle was silent before the usual cacophony of birds and small creatures resumed. Junebug touched the retraction button that lifted her face shield and wiped blood from a split lit, spitting into the dirt.
"What the fuck was that?" she wheezed, falling back onto her butt and trying to catch her breath.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Sayeeda falling back on her butt unceremoniously had her butt land on a prone Neil, and he let out a 'woosh' of air as she did so. Before she could apologize, he waved it away and sat up with her on his lap in the jungle, holding himself up by his hands behind his back, his hair disheveled. "I have no..." He placed two of his knuckles against his nostrils and blew gently to pop his ears. He felt dizzy after the immense bellow next to his head. "-idea."
He looked around, but saw no trace of the thing other than trampled foliage and a broken sapling. The power of that beast was ridiculous. In his experience, monsters like that were born on harsh worlds or were made via a genetic experiment and-...well that made sense. He didn't want to start talking like he knew anything, but he kept the idea in the back of his head. "That guard definitely knew something about this thing, and I don't think he was waiting to take it for a walk."
He placed a hand behind Junebug's head to turn her face toward him. She resisted slightly at first, but he said. "Let me look at you," making sure a split lip was the worst thing that happened to her. Once he was satisfied, he sighed in obvious relief. "You know, the answer to your question was yes." He remarked, reaching down to take out a small flask of water to drink, before handing it to her to take a swig. "Once this is done, I'm coming with you."
"Neil, don-"
He pulled her head to him and he kissed her thoroughly, drowning out the noises of the jungle and their own thoughts for the moment. Until something approached. Junebug was suddenly on alert, her weapon drawn. Neil knew the sound of that gait anywhere, and Saxon stepped into view, seeing naught but the damage and the two of them on the ground. "Hey, you made it. Here I thought you fell into the ocean."
"Silence, worm. I'm listening." The Hex said, head up and mouth open, his tongue flickering through his mandibles. Nothing seemed to happen save for the small chirps that surrounded them.
"I think we're safe for now." Neil said.
Saxon, clearly not listening, said. "I think we are safe for now. Did you see what caused those strange roars?"
Neil gave him a look.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug grinned at Neil for a moment, relieved beyond words that he wanted to continue with her and the Highlander, though exactly what that meant for their relationship with their current employers was yet to be determined. Well, one thing at a time. Saxon took a step towards them and then hissed with displeasure. Sayeeda spat blood onto the grass and wiped at her split lip.
"What?" she asked, perplexed. Saxon glared at the body of the guard. Sayeeda followed his eyes to the device on the man's wrist. Reaching down she found a switch on the wristband and flipped it off. The Hex took a step towards them, apparently untroubled.
"Some kind of sonic repellent," Junebug speculated. Hex could hear sounds at much higher frequencies than humans could, the bracelet must be transmitting some sort of signal, probably to repel the kind of animal that had just attacked her.
"I don't know exactly what is going on here," Junebug confessed. From the briefing she hadn't gotten the impression that Pradec was involved in any kind of genetic engineering, but the creature that had attacked her wasn't anything she had seen in the biota of this world.
"Well given your unprofessional gunfire, I suggest we strike while we still have some sort of element of surprise," Saxon hissed with flat displeasure. Sayeeda didn't bother to argue, just brushed her lip again and pulled her helmet visor down.
"Right, lets move."
It took about another half hour to reach the coordinates the satellite surveillance had provided to enter the building. Rather than a doorway, all of which were guarded, they found themselves at a large grated vent that spewed hot exhaust into the tropical air. Several fungi of unhealthy hues hung from the slatted cover plates. There were as yet no audible alarms.
"Alright," Sayeeda said, unslinging her duffle bag.
"Lets get his over with."</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The lack of alarms was certainly odd, but perhaps this facility wasn't as well run and equipped as Gredorius had them believe. Neil didn't doubt he'd be the overly cautious type. Taking out his high powered revolver, he volunteered to enter the breach first. He recalled some poem from ancient Terra with a similar line, but he couldn't be bothered trying to remember. He dropped down, and found himself in what he believed was a restricted access hall, even for the paramilitary members of the facility.
On the top end of the walls, pipes as thick as his torso ran along it and various warnings symbols were plastered along the wall every so often. It was dim, and the few hanging lamps there were shaking and flickering on and off gave Neil a very foreboding feeling. He hadn't felt this crept out since the Xenonids, and the very thought of one of them crawling along his body had him shuddering a bit. He steeled himself and held up his gun, at the ready.
"Coast is clear." He told them, and Junebug followed as lithely as he would have expected. Saxon grabbed a hold of the bent steel, and lowered himself in with barely a creak. The corridor was far too small for the Hex to be comfortable, and he slouched even more than he usually did. The Hex shifted, bumping Junebug none too gently. He didn't seem to notice, gazing about. Neil had noticed the Hexa giving her less respect recently, and he wondered if the Alien realized Neil and Junebug were (at least hopefully and if they survived their current social problems) together. He mused if this would be a problem in the future, and he really hoped not.
"Move," Junebug said, and all three of them headed down the corridor, knowing one was as good as the other. Right now their best bet was getting into a lower floor and trying to reach any type of central command they could. Unfortunately, Saxon's awkward height had him stomping a bit more than he intended, and two mercenaries reached the corner before them and lifted their weapons, aiming down their sights even as they yelled "Freeze!"
Even before Neil could truly appreciate their black armor and impressive armaments, a knife flew past his head and struck the front one in the neck. The merc with the knife in him fell into the one behind him, sending him to the floor before he could fire. Neil knew they needed to kill him fast, and he didn't want to risk a bullet. Suddenly, Junebug would see Neil's face warp in confusion as he was lifted up by the scruff of his collar and thrown down the corridor by Saxon.
He flew four meters, keeping his wits about him enough to kick the merc just as he was lifting his gun to shoot him out of the air. His foot connected with the man's head, knocking him out cold before Neil placed his hands against the wall to stop his momentum. Of course stopping all of it was futile, and he crumpled to the floor like a sack of defused flashbangs. Saxon chortled, or at least it sounded like it as he stepped forward.
"Good work. You're useful for something." He said, and Neil sat up, dazed, thinking if they were anywhere else he would have shot him.
"One of these days, you fucking Lizard." the Pilot groaned, and sat up, making sure his back and neck were fine. As stood up shakily, he managed to get a look down the next hall. There were doors lined up along the hall, with small windows allowing them to peer into each chamber.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Something isn't right about this," Junebug declared as she moved along the corridor opening one door after another with the barrel of her rifle. It appeared they were in a barracks of some sort, which might have been expected, but the rooms were cleaner than Junebug would have imagined from soldiers, hired or otherwise.
"What tipped you off? The literal monster?" Neil asked sardonically. Junebug chuckled as she opened the final door in the hallway. Inside was another room with a bed, refresher and computer console. Unlike the others they had passed this one was still live. Junebug gestured the others inside and closed the door before crossing to the computer. The screen appeared to be some kind of statistical data, though it didn't make any sense at all to Junebug. Reaching into one of her pouches she withdrew a small memory cube and slotted it into the machine. As Taya had predicted the input was of a standard type of Cyloneika and she wasn't forced to fiddle with the package of adaptors she had bought just in case it had been of more esoteric manufacture. The machine bought up a warning about the cubes contents which Junebug ignored with a click. The cube hummed for a moment and then a tell tale flicked green, informing her that Taya's malware had been successfully uploaded. While she waited Junebug looked around the room. There were several dataslates, each apparently hooked to xenobiology databases of various kinds. Neil pulled open one of the drawers to reveal several neatly folded lab coats. He arched an eyebrow.
"Junebug?" Taya's voice sounded in Sayeeda's ear. The virus she had created was designed to give her access to the buildings communications suite so that she could link to them in real time from the orbiting Highlander. That part of the plan appeared to be on track.
"I've got some access but it's going to take time for me to crack all the systems," the girl admitted.
"No problem," Junebug told her, gesturing the others towards the door. It might be smarter to wait for intel rather than move, but Sayeeda didn't like defensive positions and this hallway would be a bad place to get pinned down.
"I think this might be some kind of research facility," Sayeeda said. That wasn't what Gregorious had told them, which meant his intel was either dangerously bad, or more likely, deliberately false. That didn't change the mission though. Taya could be depended upon to deal with Pradec's files if they could be remotely reached, but that still left the man himself.
They pressed forward through the door at the end of the corridor, it opened onto the walkway above a two story room. Below them white coated men were working around holographic displays. On the screens Sayeeda could see footage of the jungle in which large alien looking creatures roamed. They were not of a piece, save that each one was large and none were native to Cyloneika. A large map with red tracking dots was on one of the walls.
"I don't think we can get through this way," Junebug said as she eased the door closed. As she spoke the doorway at the other end opened and two men carrying shot guns and wearing body armor stepped into the opposite end of the corridor. One opened his mouth to shout though probably more in confusion than alarm at this stage. Junebug lifted her rifle and fired twice, the discharge deafening in the confined hallway. Both men spun to the floor in a spray of blood, the displacer rounds pulping armor and tissue with equal disinterest. In the same motion she unhooked a flash grenade from her belt, pushed open the door and tossed it through the door, over the railing and down to the floor below. It went off with an actinic flash and a shattering boom they could feel even through the door.
"Here we go," Junebug said and kicked the door open, rushing onto the walkway. The scientists below were clutching at their eyes and screaming. Several of the computers had been shattered by the concussion and a haze of smoke disrupted the holograms. Her helmet quickly scanned each figure, returning no matches for Pradec. There didn't appear to be any armed opposition here so she rushed across the walkway towards another door deeper into the facility.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Delving deeper into the facility, they found themselves lost quickly and entering a large and strange storage room. Retracing their steps was possible, but most shouting they heard was from behind them and within minutes, an extremely loud and annoying alarm was sounded accompanied by red lights streaming across the walls and themselves in a revolving pattern. Saxon enlarged himself by puffing up his chest and shoulders to appear more menacing, and growled as if that would halt the alarm.
"Uh oh" was all Neil really had to say on the subject, but it proved apt when the sliding door to the storage bay area they found themselves in opened up and four armed paramilitary soldiers hustled in, rifles leading. Neil let off a few potshots, but even someone as accurate as him didn't have time to get a good bead on them before they opened fire in an orderly line. Standard formation had the front two kneeling and aiming down their sights while the back two hipfired to suppress anyone who remained firing back.
Saxon raised his armored arm and kept his face protected, but the small arms fire punctured his rough skin through the gaps in his armor. It would take far more to bring him down, but it was clearly painful. With his offhand, he hefted his fletchlette ripper and sent two cases at the direction of the doorway. At this range it had almost no accuracy to speak of, but one of the men was hit in their chest armor by a piece of shrapnel, and a man in the back was struck in his visor, making him cry out and halt firing.
Undaunted, Junebug stood in a central walkway and fired her submachine gun as the rest continued their volley, clipping one of the men in the leg and sending him down in pain, just before Neil grabbed her and yanked her into cover with him. "Hey," he snapped. "I'm supposed to be the suicidal one!"
"Then be the suicidal one and cause a distraction so I can take them down," She said. He opened his mouth to answer, then realized he had no real retort. "You see, this is why we work well together." He said. There was that maniacal grin of his as he raised his revolver. In short order, Neil left cover and rained down a hailstorm of bullets on the men, knocking one in the chest and killing the one fixing his visor.
It was Junebug's turn to take out the others, but behind them another door opened. Heavy footfalls accompanied the noise, and they knew they were about to be surrounded. It looked like it was time for Neil to take out his battle carbine. He didn't go back into hiding with Junebug though, instead continuing his course behind another stack of equipment crates, reloading his revolver just in case.
Neil looked at the symbols on the crates, and noticed they were either radioactive or carbonite cooled as if there was a huge amount of food in them to preserve. It was probably for the beasts.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug slapped another clip into her submachine gun, ignoring the heat that radiated from the barrel shroud from the continuous firing. She dropped the weapon and let her patrol sling take the weight then unslung the disruptor rifle. It was increasingly clear to her that the information they had been given was wrong, and maybe not accidentally so. In mercenary service there was always the possibility your employer was keeping you in the dark for their own reasons. Things like that tended to get people killed and were rarely appreciated.
"Junebug?" her comm sounded in her ear and she realized it wasn't the first time Taya had tried to get her attention. She stood up from behind her cover and fired six rounds into the wall, in paired shouts. The first round punched a whole in the wall allowing the second to pass through and she was rewarded with the scream and thump of a fallen man.
"Go ahead Taya," she replied, ducking back into cover as bullets spewed from the freshly punched holes, a predictable if futile reaction.
"I think I have a fix on the target, he is heading for a panic room two flights below you," she said, a map overlay appearing in a 25 percent transparency in the lower right quadrant of Junebug's visor.
"Roger. Break. Neil we..."
"I got it," Neil replied guesturing with his weapon to a small elevator at the rear of the room. Junebug ran to it and pulled open the control panel as Neil joined her. Saxon howled in rage and lifted one of the heavy metal supply crates and hurled it at a door that sprung open. There was a rending crash of metal and a crunch of bone and the the lizard was in the elevator and Junebug slammed the simple gearbox into drive, lobbing a grenade underhand into the room they had just vacated. The elevator dropped them fast. They sank two levels as their evidently wasn't a stop on the intervening floor. The cage sank into a large open area perhaps thirty meters square. The roof was festooned with banks of glow lights and the floor was covered with vegetation similar to the jungle outside. A vast beast, fully ten meters long rounded on the elevator.
"Well," Junebug said a little abashedly.
"I guess that explains the rations." The creature let out a terrifying roar, so loud that the sound filters in Junebug's helmet notched it out to save her hearing. Then it lowered its head and charged towards the descending elevator cage.</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug slapped another clip into her submachine gun, ignoring the heat that radiated from the barrel shroud from the continuous firing. She dropped the weapon and let her patrol sling take the weight then unslung the disruptor rifle. It was increasingly clear to her that the information they had been given was wrong, and maybe not accidentally so. In mercenary service there was always the possibility your employer was keeping you in the dark for their own reasons. Things like that tended to get people killed and were rarely appreciated.
"Junebug?" her comm sounded in her ear and she realized it wasn't the first time Taya had tried to get her attention. She stood up from behind her cover and fired six rounds into the wall, in paired shouts. The first round punched a whole in the wall allowing the second to pass through and she was rewarded with the scream and thump of a fallen man.
"Go ahead Taya," she replied, ducking back into cover as bullets spewed from the freshly punched holes, a predictable if futile reaction.
"I think I have a fix on the target, he is heading for a panic room two flights below you," she said, a map overlay appearing in a 25 percent transparency in the lower right quadrant of Junebug's visor.
"Roger. Break. Neil we..."
"I got it," Neil replied guesturing with his weapon to a small elevator at the rear of the room. Junebug ran to it and pulled open the control panel as Neil joined her. Saxon howled in rage and lifted one of the heavy metal supply crates and hurled it at a door that sprung open. There was a rending crash of metal and a crunch of bone and the the lizard was in the elevator and Junebug slammed the simple gearbox into drive, lobbing a grenade underhand into the room they had just vacated. The elevator dropped them fast. They sank two levels as their evidently wasn't a stop on the intervening floor. The cage sank into a large open area perhaps thirty meters square. The roof was festooned with banks of glow lights and the floor was covered with vegetation similar to the jungle outside. A vast beast, fully ten meters long rounded on the elevator.
"Well," Junebug said a little abashedly.
"I guess that explains the rations." The creature let out a terrifying roar, so loud that the sound filters in Junebug's helmet notched it out to save her hearing. Then it lowered its head and charged towards the descending elevator cage.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
If he hadn't run across any other monstrosities today, Neil would have said this was the strangest beast he had ever seen. Longer than a terran Orca, it was an ungulate based on the three hooves they could see along each flexible, powerful leg. It had a sloping, broad head that was framed by two huge, twisted horns and ended with a beak-like mouth that looked like it could pierce thick armor. Judging by it's scaled skin, it was cold blooded.
As it galloped toward them at terrifying speed, the thing opened its mouth to reveal its thick, mucous covered tongue that wriggled like a serpent. Neil was having none of this, and he drew his new battle carbine, aiming down its Entech Holographic sight. He fired five shots at the beast as it neared. With satisfaction, he saw he drew blood and harmed the thing. But it didn't die or even slow considerably.
It didn't seem to know who had shot it, as it swung its huge head toward Sayeeda rather than Neil, seeing her as the slimmest morsel. Gaping maw widening, Neil saw its tongue rearing back to strike. With no time to consider, he leaped in the way of Junebug as a tongue the length of this thing's body struck out and latched itself onto Neil rather than the Captain.
"Neil!" Junebug screamed as her pilot was suddenly yanked toward the beast to be devoured. Saxon, more seeing this as an opportunity to attack the monster when it was distracted rather than for any worry of Neil, roared and charged the thing. Meanwhile, with precision and a cool head only she could muster, Junebug drew her rifle and fired a burst of three rounds, effectively cutting the thing's tongue at the halfway point. Neil skidded to a halt on the ground.
The monster buckled in pain, unable to keep Saxon from grabbing its horns and grappling with the wounded beast. Corded muscles bulged as the enraged Hexa planted its own strangely hoofed feet into the ground, trying to keep the thing from tearing out of his grip. For once Saxon was the lightweight. Whatever that thing was, it likely weighed five tons while Saxon probably weighed half a ton with his armor on. Even wounded and pained, every swing of its head threatened to toss Saxon meters away.
Neil's roll had brought him dangerous close to the grappling titans, but he continued with another roll and drew his high caliber sidearm. With a smooth slide across the rough ground, he nearly crashed into the monster's head. Saxon had barely kept himself stable from another thrash, just in time for Neil to press the barrel of his gun at the thing's earhole and unload his weapon into it.
All six rounds punched into the beast's head, tearing through the inside of its skull. After a tense moment, it let out a pitiful groan and toppled into the dirt, dust billowing into the air. They had almost no time for a breather as a growl reverberated across the dense landscape.
"Hey, is Taya able to help get us out of here because I've got a bone to pick with my fake future father-in-law." He told the Captain as she tossed him his fallen carbine, having just reloaded his revolver.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"There is an exit on the south eastern wall," Taya replied, her tone apologetic.
"Sorry there is no video I can get into down here," she added as though she had something to appologize for in not being able to obtain real time imagery from a base in which the strike team was moving through at a run.
"Any one you walk away from," Junebug replied and headed towards the carrot that appeared on her helmet visor, pushing through the thick foliage to reach an armored doorway that formed part of the wall. It slid sideways at her touch and cool filtered air rushed into the tropical enclosure. The trio stepped hastily through into a hallway.
"Turn right the panic room is just around the corner," Taya instructed but Junebug was already moving towards the sound of rushing feet she turned the corner to see a man matching the description from the mission holo rushing towards her, eyes wide with panic. He tried to stop, tripped and pitched onto his face with a painful sounding crack. Junebug leveled her rifle at him as he scrambled to his feet raising his hands. She wondered what sort of filter Gregorious had used to make the man look dangerous. In the flesh he appeared to be a timid academic.
"Please," he begged, "this isn't what you think!" Junebug sighed.
"Yes, that is patently fucking obvious," she observed, then gave the fellow a regretful look.
"However, a deal is a deal."
"Wait! N.." Junebug shot Pradec through the breast bone, droping him to the floor. She said something in the strange hissing tongue of the hex then stepped forward and looked down at the body so that her helmet sensors had a good view of the scientist before putting a second round into his head.
"Well I guess that takes care of that," Neil said, his voice betraying no emotion.
"Neil watch your..." Junebug started to shout and then Neil's world exploded in a flash of white fire.
__________________________
"He should be waking up," a voice sounded on the edge of Neil's consciousness. His eyes cracked open to find himself locked into the medical computer on the Highlander. Sayeeda breathed a sigh of relief to see him coming to. She wasn't wearing her armor, but was instead in her usual combination of a t-shirt and cam pants.
"Was I hit?" Neil asked, noticing that his head was covered in some sort of sticky gel like substance. Junebug looked embarassed.
"Ummm... in a manner of speaking," she admitted. Neil gave her a strange look before the world seemed to go monochrome for a second and Junebug flinched in the familiar discomfort of RIP entry.
"Wait what? Are we running?" Neil asked, struggling against the restraints of the machine. Junebug laid a comforting hand on his head.
"Give it a minute, the machine has to finish re-oxygenating your blood," she said apologetically. Neil glared at her.
"Ok, explain what the fuck is going on," he demanded. Junebug cleared her throat.
"Well it was technically part of the contract that you marry Indra," she explained. Contracts were very important to mercenaries and Junebug had never gone back on one.
"So I had Saxon hit you over the head while your back was turned," she explained, as though this cleared everything up.
"Right..." Neil prompted.
"I had my sensors pointed at Pradec so I didn't record but when I turned around it looked like, from the video feed, like you had been shot," she explained.
"Saxon carried you out of there and we set off a couple of charges to level the place so there was no chance of anyone finding a body. Taya doctored the feed from my helmet so you had no life signs when we turned it over to Gregorious," she went on.
"So why is my blood being reoxygentated?" he pressed.
"Ummm... well I couldn't risk them searching or scanning the Highlander and finding you so, I put you in one of the stasis pods and shot you into space," she admitted. Neil could only stare.
"We picked you up right after your funeral," she added as though that made it all better.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil felt vaguely uncomfortable as he was being revitalized in the enclosed chamber. Certainly it was needed, and he felt "better" in a certain sense every moment. But it still felt odd being pumped full of Gods know what while his blood was being reoxygenated after being out cold for...days? Weeks? If he had been out for any longer than two months he would throw a temper tantrum like he was 12. Not only that, but he was surprised he didn't need to pee badly. If they put a tube in there...
"I hope the funeral was lovely," He said, dripping with sarcasm. Junebug likely could hear it in his voice but she answered anyway with a "It had all the trappings of a state funeral. In a way I'm jealous."
There was a hiss of air as the automated needles in his arms and body slid out of him and were 'sheathed', and the glass case lifted up to allow him to rise out of the position. As soon as he attempted to, he nearly fell straight onto the floor. Junebug caught him in her impressively toned arms. "Whoa, there. You need to slow down." She said.
"You slow down!" He retorted, but it came out tired and almost drunkenly. "You jus-...you could have warned me about the whole...dying thing." His breathing sounded labored, and she picked him up and carried him through the hall. Taya popped out of one of the rooms with a broad smile on her face. "Neil! Are you ok? How do you- oh!" She tried to whisper the last part, thinking him asleep. She slipped back into her quarters.
Junebug carried him into the next room which was the Captain's quarters, placing him on her bed carefully. It was larger than his own, and his room was far more cramped. Neil tried to sit up again, and this time he managed to stay up on his elbows at least. "Neil if you knew, it wouldn't have worked." She said, sitting next to him.
"I guess I should feel good knowing I'm out of the marriage..." He admitted, clearing his throat. Before he knew it she had a glass of water she was pouring down his throat, letting him up for air only when it was fully consumed. He hacked and coughed, but the cotton mouth was going away at least. "Thanks." He said, and continued his previous thought. "and I'd rather be taking out by my...girl...friend?" He blinked, trying to wrap his head around it. "Wait...are you my girlfriend?</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug smirked at Neil taking the cup from his hands and setting it down on the table that was bolted to the deck beside the bed. It glowed for a moment as the integral magnets inlaid into the surface fastened the cup down so it wouldn't become a missile if the ship maneuvered hard enough to beat the artificial gravity.
"Well," she said, stretching out a heel to push the door shut with a click. Reaching down she unzipped her flight suit and pulled it down baring her shoulders and breasts. The owl tattoo on her shoulder stood out in the overhead light. The slight difference in tone where her skin had grown back after her diesel burns, the puckered flesh where bullet wounds had healed. She was acutely aware of the contrast she made to Indra with her perfect skin and holostar body. It made her feel like an ugly duckling. She climbed on top of Neil pinning him to the bed with her hips.
It had been a strain, acting calm throughout the elaborate public funeral, dealing with Indra's grief and quietly negotiating her way out of government service, all the while knowing that he was floating up there in the dark. Sure, in theory he was perfectly safe, but machines and people fucked up, and she had fucked up plenty of times. Other people had died for it after-all, why not Neil. She shoved him roughly down onto the bed ignoring his wince of discomfort before leaning in and kissing him passionately.
"Let's talk about that..."</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The desperado pulled up a chair uninvited and sat down putting his boots up on the table, scattering sandy soil on a tabletop already none to clean. He produced a cigar from his pocket and lit it with a pocket igniter that was much fancier than it was practical. He puffed several times to get the cigar going, large lips making a satisfied sucking noise. The smoke that issued from the cigar was acrid and unpleasant, unlike any tobacco Junebug had ever smelled.
"Danac...," the stranger rasped, drawing the word out into three syllables.
"The pure stuff, a cigar like this would cost you two hundred credits anywhere else in the galaxy," he boasted.
"How very fucking fascinating," Junebug replied dryly. The stranger grimaced in irritation at her lack of respect.
"You got a smart mouth bitch, it will get you in trouble someday," he promised. Junebug shrugged in affected boredom her eyes scanning the room. The gunmen were clearly used to having the run of the place. They grabbed at the serving girls and helped themselves to the booze without any intention of paying. Those locals that hadn't fled were handled roughly, shoved and mocked although there was no violence yet. Junebug began to wonder if it had been a mistake to bring Taya into a place like this, the young blonde was getting a lot of looks from the thugs but fear, perhaps of the leader, or perhaps of Neil whose earlier exploits were already being talked about kept them at bay. If Taya noticed she wisely gave no sign, staring nonchalantly in imitation of Junebug.
"My name is Warez," the smoking man declared with lofty self importance.
"My friends and I keep this bar free of the Spider scum," he boasted, his hand reaching down to stroke a large bore pistol in a holster on his belt. Junebug wondered what would happen if he drew on them. The swaggering Warez would be dead in an instant but his cronies around the bar were another problem. They surrounded them on three sides and though they were drinking and probably stoned, they watched the byplay at the table with the enthusiasm of hungry sharks. Junebug doubted that any of the gunmen were worth much, but it was likely that they would manage the job through raw number if not skill. Warez probably felt the same way, though Junebug suspected his logic was different.
"How do I know you aren't Spider scum hey?" Warez asked, puffing theatrically.
"Well between the three of us we only have six legs, so I suppose that might be your first clue," Taya said flatly. Junebug froze for a moment shocked that Taya would act so boldly and worried that it might precipitate a crisis. Instead Warez began to laugh and his crew joined in with sycophantic enthusiasm.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Warez wiped his eyes with his shirtsleeve, chuckling until he could breathe again. There was a hint in the air that, despite their bravado and levity, this was still a very dangerous room full of violent people. Luckily, Neil was generally crazy enough not to care and Junebug had nerves of steel. Taya seemed somewhat put off her comment was received in such a fashion, but it wasn't as if they had opened fired so that was something.
"What do you guys call yourselves then?" Neil asked, crossing his arms. Junebug laid both of her crossed arms on Neil's shoulder and looked at the gang members, resting her chin on her draped arms to give off the casual and unimpressed look of a fellow gangster. Her tattoos with the image and she looked like a roughrider with her confident lover, simply wanting to know about the next job opportunity they had.
In unison, the men dropped their weapons and pulled up their shirtsleeves or took off their jackets to display their tattoos along their upper arms. There was another fearsome arachnid drawn in black ink on each and every one of them. "The Scorpions," Warez introduced, giving a reptilian smile. "And if you wish to be apart of our crew, you need to meet Stinger." A hush fell over the others, and Junebug and Neil simultaneously lifted their eyebrows lazily.
"Let me guess. Your nickname's Thorax?" Junebug asked.
"Like I said, watch your mouth bitch." He snapped, but Junebug's eyes were so hard that his words held little power. Neil shook his head, hand at the ready to grab his holstered revolver. "That's the second time you've insulted my girlfriend. There won't be a third, got it?"
"Why don't we meet Stinger before they need to clean up more bodies off the floor?" Taya interjected, stepping between them. If Warez had little respect for Junebug, he had even less for Taya because of her age. But her logic was sound, and he smirked. "Fine. Do you have a ride or do you need to piggyback off of us? It'll cost extra, by the way..." He made a kissing gesture toward's Taya, and the girl rolled her eyes.
"Let's discuss our tab with Stinger." Neil remarked, eyes never leaving Warez.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Fine!" snapped Warez, springing to his feet so fast that he almost seemed to teleport. The thug put two meaty palms on the table and leaned forward, smoke billowing from his nostrils like a mythical dragon. A grin split his face, displaying teeth long yellowed by his drug of choice.
"You know, I hope he doesn't like you," Warez said, patting the hilt of a heavy knife on his hip, then turned and yelled some instructions to his men in a dialect Junebug didn't quite follow. They stood and followed Warez out of the bar. Out in the street the exchange of insults between the two gangs was dying down as night feel and booze and sex became more appealing options than testosterone fueled violence. Both gangs had pulled heavy trucks across the road, blocking what little civilian traffic there was with effective road blocks. Both of the big both of the big disel flat beds had armament of a sort, machine guns welded in expertly to pintles and with improvised armor made of metal sheeting. Junebug couldn't imagine the haphazard armor provided much protection, more likely it would just add shapenel to the devastation wrought by whatever incoming fire it was supposed to deflect.
Neon signs blazed in the night, offering drink, drugs and negotiable affection. Naked women, and in some cases men, stood in upperstory windows gyrating unethusiastically to a variety of musical styles that volume rendered into an indistinguishable boom in the background. Wire mesh had been stretched across the windows to protect against bottles and worse being hurled at the shills. The buildings that lined the dusty street were universally business, bars, clubs and brothels all catering to the gunmens pleasure. Now that Sayeeda knew what to look for the gangsigns and colors were everywhere at this end of the street the Scorpions had a clear advantage while at the other the Spiders were boldest. Those businesses in the middle naturally muted their allegiance not so much to attract both groups, but in order to be able to deny support. It wasn't simple robber though, or at least not only that, the gunmen paid at least a token for what they did, probably because their gang bosses collected protection money from the locals. Civilians mostly stayed inside, waiting no doubt for the night to pass and their unwelcome guests to return to the fields. As they crossed the street Junebug heard screams coming from one of the brothels but none of the gunmen seemed concerned she she figured she could afford not to be.
Warez gestured them towards a four wheeled jeep with a pintle mounted grenade launcher. It didn't look like it had enjoyed any maintence in Sayeeda's life time. She climbed into the back alongside Neil and Taya, regretting that she had bought the girl although Taya herself watched everything with a determined expression trying to be tough. Warez climbed into the cab and spun up the diesel engine which sputtered and coughed smoke before the transmission caught and the wheels spun spraying dust and grit into the door of a nearby bar. One of the patrons shouted an insult as he was pelted with dirt and debris but ducked back inside with a yelp as one of the gunmen casually fired two rounds at the doorway, both missing and blowing chunks from the adobe facade. The truck pulled out into the road and down the dirt street. Beyond the bars and clubs Junebug could see houses and tenement buildings in the alleys and narrow streets beyond. Their lights were out, tryng not to attract attention.
They drove for only a few minutes until they reached the edge of the town. Junebug didn't know if it had a name other than that of the planet, though she didn't imagine her life would be much poorer without that datum. A large compound, encircled by walls topped with broken glass and retrofitted razorwire dominated the eastern approach. Armed guards, half stoned thugs really, stood infront of the gate lounging on seats of cloth stretched over wood frames and cradling weapons. There were even a pair of sandbagged block houses, better organisation than Junebug had seen thus far, protecting the large wrought iron gates. Music blared from inside them and the heavy weapons emplaced inside did not track the approaching truck. The truck pounded to a stop, its unmainted suspension hissing as Warez leaned out of the cab and screamed at the guards to open the gate, they did so without much enthusiasm but a moment later they were driving down a gravel driveway towards a house that might once have been handsome but was now disfigured by obvious attempts to make it defensible.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil was impressed with just how much material the scorpions had acquired, and he was equally impressed with how wasted most of it was. The barbed wire was stretched around like a serpent, going back and forth with plenty of areas a determined man could crawl through. The trenches around it were similarly jerry-built, and Neil was just glad they didn't have the stupidity to dig across the road they were driving on.
The gates slid open shakily with a primitively automated system, and it was actually pretty funny that the whooping and hollering thugs were trying to keep their enthusiasm even as they sat waiting for the gate to fully roll open. Neil sat there, bouncing from the shoddy engine of the vehicle they were in. He looked at Junebug and Taya with a raised eyebrow.
After a full minute, the cries began anew when the path was clear and they drove up to the house, turrets placed in a variety of places without planning it seemed. Large double barrel turrets with, to Neil and Junebug's practiced eye, 35 mm slug rounds. The pilot could tell it was an automatic weapon and was highly volatile but powerful.
"When was the last time you boys were hit by the Spiders?" Neil asked the thug to his left, his crew members on his right. The man, if it could be called a man for his face was bloated and putrid and he had one eye, turned to him and merely grunted. Neil wasn't certain he knew how to speak at all, and Warez spoke up from across the way.
"We have a few hits every now and then, fucker. But we send them scuttling back to mama, eh!? He cried, and they all cheered just before the vehicles halted in the front dirt lot, kicking up dust and debris into the air. All of them vaulted and leaped out of the vehicles in a timely manner, as if it had been practiced. Neil and the others were just a second behind, and they were inducted into the house.
It was large, but hardly enough room for so many gangsters. Over a dozen of them ran down stairs and Neil theorized they lived down there among a larger complex. Neil, Taya, and Junebug however were brought by Warez and his largest thugs to the third floor, which looked to be one single roo that covered the entire story. As they made their way in, they could see couches and tables, with a corner of the huge room covered in curtains to keep out prying eyes.
"Yo Stinger! We got some new recruits!" Warez yelled.
The curtains opened up, and the men suddenly knelt when Stinger walked out. He didn't have the look Neil thought he might. Mostly because he was a she, thick bodied with full lips and curls that reached down to her shoulders. There was a dangerous look to her indigo eyes, and on her arm was a scorpion tattoo. She downed the last dregs of a whiskey bottle and set it down on the table next to her.
"Yeah I can see that, Warez" She sneered. When he opened his mouth to speak, she shot him a look that killed the noise in his throat.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug was surprised to discover that the stinger was a woman. Generally speaking the rougher a place was, the less respect women commanded, although judging by the way the toughs in the bar had been manhandling the serving women, she suspected that the Stinger was a special case. The woman looked them up and down, lingering on Neil for a minute and seeming to take in their dress and equipment.
"Ah, the foreigners who arrived on that pretty freighter," the Stinger said in a surprisingly sensual voice. She obviously thought the fact she knew something of them would shock them and their lack of reaction seemed to irk her.
"Have a seat and we will discuss your futures here on Tiosinte," she went on, making a magnanimous gesture with her right hand. The gesture exposed the tip of a scorpions stinger tattooed on her left shoulder. Jungbug and her friends obediently took their seats. Without asking servants, slightly better dressed gunmen anyway, came forward and set cans of chilled alcohol down in front of them. Junebug picked hers up and took a drink. It was sweet, some sort of wine cooler with an artificial peach flavor, she had certainly drank worse.
"I take it you aren't looking for places on the... security staff of my organization?" the woman asked shrewedly. The look in her eyes suggested she had seen off worlders before who thought they were a cut above the local variety of thug.
"You take it correctly, we are looking for short term work, a week tops while we get our ship worked over and update our nav data, then we will be out of your hair," Junebug agreed and then leaned forward slightly to rest her elbows on the table top.
"It would be a shame not to take a few credits with us though," she intonated.</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil slid an apple down his arm and caught it nimbly, spinning it on his finger before plucking it out of the air. Whatever Junebug decided, he was on board for. He was just excited to get things going. Not having his conscience dirtied was a definite plus, and whatever loot they got from destroying both of these gangs was likely worth it. Though his Captain's orders caught up with his head before he bit the apple.
"Wait...What!?"
Fast forwarding an hour later, Neil had procured a ride from some of Stinger's associates who he had convinced it was in their best interest to get him to Stinger as fast as they could. There were three of them. One man was young and red haired. with a wild smile on his almost too-wide mouth, hollering and hooting at anything that looked vaguely female as he stood atop the passanger's seat. The driver was far more level headed, though suspicious. Neil couldn't quite get a bead on him, his face concealed in a strange mechanical mask with only one eye uncovered through a high tech optic scope.
Neil sat next to something that was either once a man, or a humanoid alien. The thing cackled louder than the douchebag up front, his body covered in fur and his face very Hyena-esque. At least he wore loose pants and a jacket. Neil was not prepared to be bumped into by some mutant/xenos and their junk.
As they approached, Neil saw guns trained their way at the bunkered, barbed wired fence. The lowest dregs of thuggery stood watch, various mechanical and organic vagaries attached or warped about them. Neil no doubt thought they would be formidable to fight in hand to hand or ranged, which was likely why they were the first line of defense. The one at the gate was the criminal Neil had seen last time he came here, when it was the first time. He had a large gun, likely 20 MM rounds.
"You got some balls coming back here." The man said, barrel on Neil. Even the Hyena-man had the good sense to move away. Neil didn't seem perturbed, though he held his hands up.
"Hey, hey! Come on, what's that for? I'm coming back to explain stuff."
"Well, if you've got a good explanation as to why Miguel and a dozen of our lads disappeared, maybe you can make it out alive." He chuckled, then screamed at the others. "Let them in!"
The rumbling of the cars were drowned out by the laughter of the watchmen, and Neil tried not to get nervous. Oh, he wasn't nervous about if Stinger was angry at him. Neil had been beaten, humiliated, and even tortured once or twice as a Highlander Crewmember. He was mostly afraid of Stinger's interest of him, and he would rather leave by giving her vague promises of some nature rather than having to refuse her and fight his way out. Not only because it would hinder their initial plan to pit the Spiders against the Scorpions, but because he wasn't about to betray Junebug's trust. When he told her about it though, she laughed and told him to be firm like she knows he can be. He had no idea what to make of that.
Pulling up to the fortified, ruined mansion, Neil hopped out and told them to keep the car running. Even without being able to see his face, the masked man gave Neil a look that essentially loudly asked if he was kidding. Neil just grinned and headed inside, past three men playing Bazrika, a fun electromagnet drinking game, and headed upstairs until he was ushered in to see Stinger. He sighed before the curtain was drawn, and stepped inside the room. He hoped she was in an agreeable mood, but not too agreeable.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Meanwhile...
Taya stumbled through the debris, catching herself on her front foot and turning, gun barrel leading. The young woman saw no one following, but the amount of thugs on this world she didn't trust simply not being able to see a foe. Holding her position for a few seconds, once she was satisfied Taya turned and hurried down the alleyway, finding the main road that led to the launchpad that held the Highlander, still stationed where the three had left it. This world was a bit poorer than most, and even now as she walked under the archway to the hanger she felt the dust and grime on her skin. She didn't say it, but she was still very much used to being pampered on her homeworld. The Captain and Neil's stoicism in the face of all they've had to deal with kept her mouth shut over broken nails or lack of hygiene, but now that she saw the Highlander before her, she wanted nothing more than to take a bath and wait for further instructions.
Once she put in the code, the Highlander's entryway door slowly lowered, air seeping out of the pistons, giving a hiss like a viper as it moved. She forgot how much she missed the sound of her boots on the hollow steel of the fallen door as she stepped into the ship, quickly placing in the code to close it behind her. Once the door was closed, she finally noticed the lights were out, and there was a hint of a strange smell in the air. Sniffing, she couldn't tell what it was. It was faint and likely unnoticeable if her senses hadn't already been on edge.
Groping in the dark, her fingers ran over the lighting toggle on the opposite wall. She gritted her teeth and lowered the thing, glad it wasn't stuck fast like it had been before. It creaked, but once it hit bottom the lights flooded the ship's interior. Now she could see everything in front of her, but nothing seemed different. Well, why would it be? She thought, and Taya began walking toward the cargo bay. Just put your gun up and go take a bath. Neil didn't install the bathing area for it to go unused. Her smile bloomed on her face, and she shimmied down the stairs leading to the cargo bay.
Once down there, she abruptly turned to the left where most of the arms and armor was stored, unstrapping her submachine gun and placing it carefully on the rack. She felt competent with it, but she knew the other two felt she had a lot to learn and she guessed she couldn't blame them. Losing your cool in a firefight was not entirely safe.
"Where are the others?" A deep voice sounded behind her. Her soul left her body for a brief moment before she recognized it as Saxon, calming down. He made her nervous at the best of times, but at least he wasn't an enemy out for her blood.
"They're still in town. They said they would call us whe-" She turned and looked behind her, her words drowning out in a scream of terror. Even a hardened soldier would have been disturbed at the sight. As she looked across the cargobay, she saw what looked to be Saxon's corpse on the floor, hollowed out and filled with various juices. Beside it stood a beast that resembled him, and she knew must be Saxon. It was clearly a Hexanagallion, but he had gone through some sort of metamorphosis! His massive, brutish arms now had bones like spikes protruding out of his arms, each a meter long. Under them on his broad chest were two smaller arms, now curled up. Smaller being relative, as they were thicker than Taya's limbs certainly. Other than those, the further bone-like protusions along his vital areas acting as a sort of natural armor, and the wet stickiness clinging to his naked skin (which had likely been the source of the smell) it was Saxon. So that was what he had gained from his healing?
"You uh...you look good." She said uneasily.
Saxon smiled. "I feel good."</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug wandered through Teosinte, making her way to what a shocking number of gang tags identified as the Spiders end of town before the groups of blustering thugs flooded the streets. Even though the field guards weren't in town yet, there were plenty of unfriendly glares from partisans of both gangs, and from locals who assumed that anyone going around armed must be affiliated with one or the other. Realistically, Junebug had to admit she had been in more unpleasant places, there had been gangs of cannibals in the ruined cities on Segovia and children routinely went missing in the night. In her mind those situations were temporary, the results of wars that Andor's Armored was in the business of brining to an end as swiftly as possible. Andor was no humanitarian, but his interest in warfare was economic, and finishing a contract quickly was always to be preferred. That being said, any local thugs who bothered the mercenaries and the locals the recruited as camp followers and to help with their logistics train, could expect to learn what a couple of LAVs and a company of infantry could do to pissant indiges who got above themselves. In Teosinte there was no such force, and this wasn't a war, this was everyday life for these people, and it would go on till everyone on the planet was in one gang or the other. Or dead of course. That was the more likely outcome for most people. Sayeeda wasn't a humanitarian either, but she was here and she could do something, and so she would.
The bar she selected was called the Aracnophilla, or at least, Sayeeda presumed that was what the artists semi literate scrawl was supposed to say. It did have a fairly artistic rendition of a spider buggering a chained scorpion above the door. The interior was as promising as the outside, a single large room with a dozen tables infront of a dingy bar. At the back of the room was a stage on which a tired looking woman gyrated, shaking nude and unlovely flesh at a few patrons gathered around. The men seemed to be whipping at her with what looked like piano wire attached to wooden handles. She flinched from each blow but the vacant look in her eyes made it clear she was too stoned on something to much care. An interlace of old scar tissue suggested this wasn't her first, and perhaps not her hundredth time at the particular stage show.
Junebug slid up the bar and ordered a whiskey, motioning for the bartender to leave the half empty bottle. She sniffed at the neck of it, making sure it was of a high enough proof to kill bacteria before taking a sip. It was raw and oily, with very little to recommend it except for the bite of what might have been pure ethanol mixed with water and food coloring. She grinned, she was just going to have to get Neil to take her someplace nice next time. She didn't realise the thought had made her laugh till someone grabbed her wrist.
"Something funny to you bitch?" a slightly overweight looking gangster demanded. He was clearly compensating for his balding patte by growing a full beard, which was none to clean and none too good.
"None of your bussiness yokel, why dont you fuck off while you still have your legs to carry you hey?" she suggested. Predictably his eyes narrowed with anger and he yanked her towards him. Junebug spun into the motion, using it to add momentum to the elbow which she drove into the suddenly shocked thugs stomach just below the sternum. Air whooshed from his lung and he began to choke as he simultaneously tried to gasp for air and vomit. He fell to his knees and sprayed out a mouthful of his stomach contents before collapsing into a wracking cough. Junebug kicked him hard in the kidneys and then again in the stomach as he rolled over. He coiled up, desperately trying to cover his vitals, he was crying now, but Junebug had learned in a hard school that it always paid to put the boot in while the other fellow was down. She raised her boot to kick him in the teeth.
"I think he learned his lesson," a deep basso voice said, punctuated by the click of a hammer drawing back. Junebug paused in mid kick and looked up to see a man with crossed bandoliers and spider tatoos on the top of both is hands looking at her in what might have been amusement. She grinned back, her smile as hard and terrible as a glacier.
"Oh I don't know, never hurts to drive home a lesson for the slower ones," she responded, though she was already stepping away, reaching back to the bar to retrieve her bottle.
"Never the less, maybe we leave poor Jorge alone right?" the man persisted. Junebug took a sip directly from the bottle and shook herself like a wet dog, trying to speed the adrenaline from her system.
"Whatever you say," she responded indifferently. The man watched her for a minute and then eased back the hammer on the handgun and slipped it into a cross draw holster above his hip.
"Your that offworld mercenary, working with the Scorpions right?" he asked.
"I'm from offworld, you can tell by the fact I still have all my teeth and a full set of chromosomes," she rejoined with a cocky grin. The newcomer didn't rise to the bait, merely watching her.
"As for working with the Scorpions, no, right now I'm not working with anyone, just looking to get a drink and..." she nodded her chin in the direction of the fallen Jorge who was crawling away towards the back of bar, if the man had friends, they weren't in a hurry to assist him, "enjoying the night life." The man nodded agreeably.
"Well my name is Talin, and if you aren't working with the Scorpions, then I have someone who I know is dying to meet you," Talin said with an oily smirk. Gunfire sounded off in the distance.
"Not really looking for company friend," she said, nodding again at Jorge as a couple of thugs scopped him up by the arms, shooting baleful looks at Junebug.
"I am afraid that I must insist, and if you refuse, I will have to get as many men as I need to make you comply, and that would really start our relationship off on the wrong foot don't you think?" Junebug took another pull from the bottle and slapped it down on the bar.
"Well, if you insist..."</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil grinned, emboldened by his theatrics and Junebug's approval. The fire from the detonations were a sheen off his glasses, and he turned to follow his girlfriend and superior officer, hefting his gun and reloading three grenades in it. Junebug had more hands on experience than Neil in ground operations, but he was still a veteran compared to most his age, and if there was one thing he knew, it was explosive devices.
Behind them, Saxon snorted. Though Neil guessed it was a huff of complaint, the big xenos stamping his hoofed feet in the dirt of the wasteland. "Do you suggest we leave these men here?" He growled from deep within his throat. "Once we start shooting, they'll turn on us and be at our flanks!"
Neil and Junebug turned back at him simultaneously, Taya jogging past him to get as far away from the annoyed Hex and the gangers now looting the drugs as she could. It was only the mutants that had stayed at the vehicle that kept her from leaping in, though Neil had to admit he was surprised the three hadn't driven off. He guessed they were afraid enough of Junebug's armor and Saxon to really mess with the group. Neil also had to admit Saxon had a point when it came to the group they had just worked with, as they'd betray them on a dime once the real shooting started. Though the pilot also knew Saxon's real reason for giving such sound logic: He was impatient for action.
"Well, I don't see the problem with Saxon taking out this group while we move on ahead. Do you, captain?" Neil asked aloud. With the glare of the fire, he couldn't read her face. But she turned, her voice echoing out of the speakers of the suit. "Fair enough, just kill paco quick. He was a funny one." She quipped, now moving forward again. She added a last addition as she stepped past the vehicle. "And don't take long! We'll probably need you soon."
A Hexanagallion's smile was a disturbing sight, even to someone who was more learned in their physiology like Neil. Saxon craned his head high, stretching his neck as he overlooked the area, before lowering it and turning his hulking, saurian form towards the warehouse, just as the men began piling packages of drugs and other goods into the trucks. Neil made a sign to Gideon, then ran to catch up to Junebug.
"What about us!?" The lead mutant asked, but Junebug had already marched out of earshot. That or she deigned not to acknowledge their presence. Neil halted at the aircar and shrugged.
"You fellas were good set pieces, but now we kind of don't need you anymore. If I were you I'd get the hell out of here, or keep Taya safe in the aircar." Neil casually let his grenade launcher rest on his hand, the barrel pointing straight at the vehicle to showcase just what would happen if they took any advantage of Taya while they were gone. "In fact, you're going to guard her. Taya, get in the driver's seat and keep the aircar out of sight until we call."
As if he had plucked the beacon out of the air, Neil planted a small device on the hood of the vehicle. It gave a small light that flashed every other moment, softly enough not to be seen at any great distance. "If any of you three don't keep her safe and unharmed, we'll follow you to the ends of the galaxy and buttfuck you out of existence, sound good?"
"No need to threaten us." The head mutant said, visibly shaken. "We'd cross Stinger before you guys, even if you weren't holding us at gunpoint." Neil believed him. Their group was pretty intimidating and fairly technologically advanced for such a backwater world. With that, Neil jogged after Sayeeda, ready to take on both gangs at once.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
By the time they reached the city the party had well and truely kicked off. The night was rent by the clatter of gunfire and the whine of plasma blasts, the backwash of which reflected off the sides of the taller buildings like flickering blue witchlight. Sayeeda hoped that the local civilians were keeping their heads down, though there would be no such thing as safety tonight. Well perhaps in Magdelena's subterrainian dwelling and places like it.
Neil and Sayeeda headed for where the gunfire was thickest. The bodies and damage grew increasingly heavy as they moved towards the Stinger's manor. Infact they were less than a street away when they encountered the first spiders, a trio of men huddling in an alleyway trying to keep out of sight.
"Kill them!" one of the men shouted, his eyes white with terror. Neil shot him through the bridge of the nose, the heavy round smashing him back into the alley wall with a spray of blood. Sayeeda's railgun split the air, cutting the second man in half and shattering the adobe wall behind him. The third thug managed to half turn before a second round from Neil excavated the back of his skull. They moved up the alley without words, peering from the end of it towards the manor. They were behind a ragged line of Spiders, all taking cover behind wrecked vehicles and tumbled walls. It seemed their improvised combat vehicles had been of little help as both converted tractors were burning and spewing thick black smoke. The spider attack had obviously caught the scorpions by surpise and they had nearly won the day based solely on that single stroke of initiaive. The attack had finally bogged down at the gates of the Scorpions mansion, where the improvised earthworks and heavy weapons had provided natural rallying points for fleeing Scorpion gunmen. Fire whipped between the two positions and men shouted and cursed, or screamed in terror as they continued to fire in almost blind panic.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The crack of Neil's rifle resounded only after the slugs had torn through two of the Spider gangmembers, leaving exit wounds you could slip your fist through without fear of bloodying your hand. To his right, Sayeeda had vaulted over a dismantled car and disptached two others, though Neil didn't see the gritty details of what transpired. He only saw her walk out and blow a bit of hair out of her eyes. He noticed she would need to put it in a bun soon. It would probably be a good look for her if she let it continue to grow.
"Rearguard is down." She said conversationally. They weren't far from one another, but it was still more expedient to use comms than to draw attention to themselves. A few stray gunshots weren't likely to draw attention, but unknown voices were a different story.
Neil grinned, reloading his gun. Not that he wasn't going to use it for his next trick. He reshouldered the strap on it and pulled aside his grenade launcher, the familiar weight of the loaded weapon somehow intensely satisfying in his hands. Neil saw Sayeeda give him a movement signal, something she had begun to teach him a few months previously. He wasn't 'fluent' if that was the word, yet. But he knew she meant to go further right, and Neil already knew his next position. He passed by a few scrap heaps of burning metal, vaguely aware they were aircars that had exploded. Likely from explicit detonation. The pilot made it to a rudimentary dumpster and climbed atop it, before vaulting onto the roof of a outerlying, boldly placed home. It was still a good distance from his position to the fence that guarded the Scorpion base, but he had used grenade launchers enough to know if something was too far to be out of effective range. It was right in the sweet spot.
He only caught another glimpse of Junebug's lithe form slinking through the dark, until she was completely out of sight. He got comfortable, placing a foot on the edge of the roof and resting his grenade launcher against his shoulder, leveling its scope with his eye. He waited, watching the night flash with gunshots and laser beams, accompanied by muffled shouts of curses and threats. He almost started to idly whistle, but he received his captain's "in position" not a moment too soon.
"Show time, babe." He told her on comm. It was the last thing she'd hear of him before there was a brief silence, followed by the destruction of vast swathes of the scorpion fence, along with dozens and dozens of wounded and dead spiders at their vulnerable rear. Shrapnel and flame whipped out and cut through tendons and sprayed blood along their comrades. Neil felt somewhat guilty about the PDST he was causing for some, but it was swiftly lost by the beautiful spouts of flame and destruction he had caused.
This time he did whistle. Appreciatively.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
"Hot," Junebug commented. Softly as the rear of the line exploded in great geyzers of rolling flame. For a moment she felt like she ought to be ordering a platoon of tanks forward into the breech torn in an enemy line by an artillery barage. But there were no tanks, only her and Neil. Junebug raced forward through the smoke, leaping over a ruined adobe wall. All was chaos now. The Spiders and Scorpions had never been soldiers, but now any semblence of discipline was gone. Junebug saw one spider, stunned and bleeding, shoot another simply because he was a shape moving in the haze. Many more were simply throwing down their weapons and fleeing. Junebug fired her railgun methodically, every two seconds, simply swinging her reticule onto one heat signature after another and squeezing the trigger, careful not to overheat the weapon. Even so she felt the heat of of the glowing barrel against her armor, make work done in the hold of the Highlander not quite up to the task of properly cooling so potent a weapon.
A knot of resistance was forming at the entrance to the Spider's compound. The Scorpions had taken the worst of Neil's efforts and the Spider's were beginning to capitalize. Sayeeda targeted the strong point and fired, blasting sandbags and the weapon behind appart in a spraying fireball of white hot glass. She pulled a grenade from her belt and tossed it over the ruin, waiting a second for the concussive pop and the fingers of white smoke spread by the grains of white phosphorus. Scream tore from the a dozen throats and burning men scattered in all directions, clawing at their flesh. Sayeeda charged into the breech, her armor protecting her from the unspent grains which still hissed and popped. A spider leaped at her. She caught him, servos in the armor whining and then pitched him sideways into a concrete pillar with an audible crack. He slumped, legs slack and screaming. Junebug put a round through his chest, unwilling to leave a crippled man who could still pull a trigger at her back. A bullet spanged off her breastplate and she spun, dropping another attacker with a punch that shattered his jaw in a spray of blood and bone. Swinging her railgun she smashed the skull of a cowering thug and then felled three more with a long burst of atomized blood and burning clothing. The gangsters, accustomed to swaggering casual violence, were unable to handle the sudden and savage concentration delivered by a professional. They broke and ran. Junebug followed rail gun cracking as quickly as her optics could pick out targets in the smoke.
"I think we are going to..." Junebug's trasmission cut off suddenly as something massive and hot slammed into her chest. The sky cartwheeled overhead and she crashed through the adobe wall of one of the dwellings which had survived Neil's detonation. A table broke beneath her in a spray of splintering timber and the breath was driven from her chest. She lay there, stunned and unable to move. Electrical discharge sparked over her chest and the reek of burning insulation filled her nostrils.
"I knew it was you bitch," a voice called from the hole she had blasted in the wall. Sayeeda couldn't turn her head. Her eyes flicked downwards moving through menus of her armors display. They flickered and disolved into static, a confused mass of damage reports and critical failure messages. The Spider stepped into view flanked by three thugs. She was in battle dress and carried a light anti tank rifle. A single shot piece which Sayeeda knew to be effective against light armored units at close range. The Spider was either very good or had gotten very lucky to hit her. Or both of course. The woman stood over her, thumbing another fist sized charge into the smoking breech of her weapon.
"I told your boyfriend not to fuck with me. Apparently he didn't convey my message..."</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Junebug was momentarily face to face with the Spider, the woman's face contorted in shock and fear. That momentary startlement transmuted quickly into rage as she realized she hadn't been badly hit. She rolled on top of Sayeeda and pulled a knife from a sheath at her waist, the point glinting above Junebug. The armor was proof against most attacks but she didn't doubt a determined enemy could find a seam to work the blade into. She paged frantically though the restart menus but couldn't get the armor to boot up. Whatever damage the anti-vehicle round had done, it had been severe.
"Can't get your fancy suit to work?" the Spider sneered, leaning down to drag the point of her knife across the visor of the helmet. Gunfire was beginning to slacken outside though the goon who had survived Neil's grenade attack was firing his rifle out into the night, using the hole her armor had punched in the adobe wall as a firing port.
"That is the problem with all you offworlders who come to Teosinte, thinking you are so fucking clever, you always get too clever for your own good." The stinger stabbed the knife down at the visor. It struck the plasteel and deflected away. Cursing the gang boss tried again with as little effect. Getting wise she found the neck seam and began to probe with the point.
"You just lay there and die like a good little..."
Junebug triggered the suits critical fail. Spending a life in armored vehicles gives one a healthy fear of being trapped inside after the vehicle has been crippled. More than one tanker ended their days screaming as fire consumed their vehicle as they pounded at a stuck hatch. Junebug had harbored similar concerns about the suit and had allayed them by spreading an ounce of blasting paste along a machined grove where the armor mated. She triggered it by doubletapping a small switch in her right gauntlet. The armor burst away from her body in a wash of heat as its connections were literally blasted appart. The Stinger screamed and tumbled back, beating a flames on her leggings. The effect was stunning, but Junebug had been ready for it. She rolled free of her ruined armor and snatched for one of the fallen rifles. The Stinger, her reactions damned quick despite the concussion of the blast, lunged forward with her knife. Junebug parried clumisly with her weapon as though at bayonet drill and then drove the butt of it down into the gangsters chest. Whatever armor she had there cushioned the blow but it was powerful enough to send her crashing back into a ruined cabinet. Junebug swung the rifle up and pulled the trigger. The weapon clacked and seized as one of the brass cartriges fouled the loading mechanism. The Stinger barked out a laugh and lunged at her with the knife. Junebug tried to parry but her opponent was wise to that and the blade raked up her arm shredding the body suit she had been wearing and sending a flash of pain through her body. Sayeeda drove a knee up in a blow that would have broken bone if the Stinger had been unarmored. As it was the knife weilding woman was lifted an inch from the ground and staggered back. Junebug delivered a spinning kick which connected with her opponents shoulder, pitching her back across the room and slamming her face against the wall. With the agillity of a street fighter the Stinger came round, blood on her lips and knife in hand.
"You will have to do better than that, I've been killing with a knife since I was a child," the bloodied gangboss snarled. Junebug rolled her eyes.
"Do you ever shut up?" she demanded, raising both her fists into a guard posture. The Stinger shrieked in rage and rushed forward, blade held low. Junebug stamped on the edge of a piece of shattered timber, spinning it into the air and spoiling her opponents footwork. The Stinger stumbled but came on slashing with her blade. Junebug struck out with a feint that lifted her opponents gaze and then delivered a punishing strike to her opponents elbow, forcing her to drop the knife. Pivoting off the momentum she delivered a stomping kick to the inside of the Stinger's knee. THere was an audible pop and the woman screamed and went down. Junebug took a step towards the downed woman but the Stinger came up with a grenade in her hand, handle primed.
"Over so quickly, well I guess I can take my time with your boyfriend when I find him, I'm going to..." the threat trailed off in a scream made tinny by the boom of Neil's handgun. The Stinger's wrist exploded like a tree bursting in the winter frost. Without thinking about it Junebug kicked the hand, sending the grenade flying out into the night where it burst with a crump that threw Junebug to the ground. She blinked the spots from her eyes and then saw Neil's face appear in the hole in the wall. He looked down at the Stinger but she was already dead, having caught a piece of grenade shrapnel with the back of her skull.
"That," Junebug commented, "Is fucking team work."</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The Highlander was unique in many ways, but it certainly sounded like a ship. There was always an ever present hum in the air, from the power, to the engines, to the small beeps the various computers would make around every corner. Tanya had finally begun to get used to it, but Neil and Sayeeda were accustomed to it for many years, albeit through different circumstances. It was nice to be back there after being so long planetside, particularly in the dump they had just left. Neil still felt like he smelled like mutant gangers everywhere he went. Thank Gideon it was worth it. All that stolen ordnance and a few thousand units of credit added to their databooks for their trouble, most of it illicit but that didn't matter worth shit.
Saxon had begun hibernating again. He had slaughtered most of the spiders, and even a few scorpions; devouring the men he could and spitting out the particularly mutated, commenting on how sour or unpleasant they were. He equated it to eating a burnt piece of meat. There was a bland, disagreeable quality to them if they were heavily irradiated enough. Neil had never tried human, or mutant for that matter, but he would take Saxon's word for it. It seemed his evolved form had a high metabolism and needed rest if a lot of energy was expended, and so now the hulking bounty hunter slept peaceably for once in the cargo hold.
"Glad t' 'ave you lads and lasses back, first mate. But ye havnae given any coordinates." Lonney remarked, being given his default 'highland' voice setting.
"That's because we don't know where the fuck to go yet, Lonney." Neil remarked, slowing down their sublight engines so they could orbit a nearby moon, switching off all power but life support, gravity, and the auxiliary, making the ship undetectable to anyone that wasn't specifically looking hard in their area. The pilot placed his hands behind his head and kicked back, feet on the dash as it were. "Me and the captain will need a word before we go anywhere, and she's somewhere around here."
"Aye, lad. In the meantime, we 'ave heated water an' coffee. 'Ad plenty o' time to heat stuff up while you lot were down there, ya ken?"
"Yeah, it took longer than I thought, I'll admit. But all in all, it was a bonding experience." Neil replied, gazing out of the display. The moon, Gamera IV, was purple in hue and littered with so many craters it nearly had a uniform, smooth look to it.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
It had taken Sayeeda considerable time to get used to being aboard a starship as a standard part of her life. She had seen plenty of star travel during her mercenary career of course, but the hum of enginens and air cycling pumps made her mind think of impending landings, usually heading into action. The extractions normally had a smell of antiseptic and stressed and burned metal that was absent from the Highlander most of the time. Fortunately in the time she had owned the Highlander she had begun to suppress the instincts associated with an imminent drop into lethal danger. Which was not to say they vanished completely. Taya appeared unexpectedly from a side corridor, her approach muffled by a particularly loud fluid pump. The girl was clearly excited and grabbed for Junebug without thinking. Junebug caught her by the arm yanked her off balance and slammed her against a bulkhead, a knife appearing in her hand and pressing to the younger womans throat, her dark eyes blank and focused well beyond the horizon.
"Junebug its me!" Taya squeaked spreading her hand wide. Sayeeda stared wide eyed for a moment before her grip relaxed and she dropped the blonde to the deck. Junebug stepped back, lowering the knife.
"Hey Taya... look I'm sorry... it's just..." she tucked the knife back into her belt, lowering her eyes in embarassment that made her skin flush and prickle with adrenaline.
"Hey, I get it, combat reflexes and all that," Taya said reassuringly. Combat fatigue more like but Taya was trying to be delicate which Junebug appreciated. Unfortunately once a soldier reached the level Junebug had there were few options but to keep riding the high. Veteran's had a saying, either you stayed hard or you got soft, but what they didn't mention was that most people that went soft didn't cheerfully re-enter civilian life. Mostly they burned out on booze or drugs, or fell into other lives of violence with predictable ends. Junebug didn't think she was special in that respect, she had to stay on the edge, but that meant one day and probably not a very distant one, you got sloppy, you made a mistake, like maybe pulling a knife on your friend when she surprised you in a dark corridor.
"Look I wanted to talk to you and Neil, and I guess Saxon? Does he get a vote?" Taya asked uncertainly.
"He does not," Sayeeda said emphatically. Taya nodded clearly reassured.
"What did you want to talk about?" Sayeeda asked, feeling her skin return to its normal temperature as her body finished processing the adrenaline she had generated. That was faster than it should have been, damn Terran bioengineering. One of these days she really needed to see a doctor about that. One of these days.
"I'll tell you in the in the galley," Taya said with a nervous grin.
Taya had clearly gone through considerable trouble to prepare food and coffee. Her culinary repertoire was small and ran heavily in the direction of spicy noodle dishes, one of which steamed in a disposable cardboard cooking box. Neil had already arrived, either directed by Taya or by Lonney at Taya's direction. He slid a mug of coffee across the smooth tabletop to her, which she stopped with a grin and raised in a toast.
"I've found us a job," Taya said, seeming nervous but determined. Junebug arched an eyebrow. Had the girl somehow negotiated a deal on planet? That seemed unlikely given she had been involved in the action herself.
"Who?" Junebug asked, helping herself to a bowl of noodles.
"Me," Taya replied her back straightening. Junebug froze genuinely stunned.
"You?" Neil asked, every bit as perplexed as she.
"Me," Taya confirmed. Junebug and Neil shared a perplexed look.
"I want you to find out what happened to my father."
------------------
"Let me get this straight, you want us to sail six months across the arm to reach a system that is probably overun with the most hostile xenos known to man, to locate your father who, at the time we left, looked like he was about to be liquidated by a millitary coup?" Junebug asked, staring at the projection of the RIP map Taya had produced.
"Yup," Taya agreed as she spooned noodles into her mouth.
"I know its a haul, and I'm not saying drop everything and go for it, but since we don't seem to have a goal in mind right now, its as good a one as any," Taya pointed out.
"We can take other work along the way, to defer costs," she pointed out.
"Defer costs," Junebug repeated not quite believing what she was hearing.
"If my father is alive, he will reward you handsomely for bringing me home, if not, then I am the rightful air to the Cho-Lan clan and I will reward you," Taya coaxed.
"And if your father is dead and a junta of hostile generals in power? Assuming that the lot of them haven't been eaten by bugs of course?"
Taya folded her arms, her posture becoming rigid and her eyes uncharacteristically hard.
"Then I want you to rectify the situation Captain Cykali, by whatever means seem good to you."
Junebug was silent for a moment and then cut a questioning glance towards Neil.</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil threw the last sack of coffee onto the cart, slapping his hands together and exhaling into the crisp, cool air. The last few weeks hadn't necessarily been what he would call exciting, but it wasn't so bad every now and then. Semi-honest work and some good R&R were probably best for the crew, considering they were on the way to what was likely a suicide mission for Taya.
Their initial contact with the theologically inclined locals had been touch and go at first. The galaxy wasn't short of religious thought. The fact the universe existed on set principals of science when all could be chaos, or the fact existence at all was happening made many think there had to be a creator or catalyst beyond what current understanding could comprehend. Neil had heard many theories on his travels, particularly working at the space station with Sven. But he had never been on a planet of people who were so universally dogmatic.
It was really hard not to fuck with them, even if only a little bit.
"Brother Gerome," Neil started. The clergyman (if he even was a true one) halted in his tracks and turned to the group again. All the younger men watched intently. "I have a question about the faith."
"I'm always ready to help enlighten those who are curious," he said with a smile. He was wilier than his groupies, Neil could tell just by looking at him, so he wouldn't go too hard. "What is the question, friend?"
Neil gestured toward the Hexanagallion. "I was wondering about the fate of my good friend Saxon here. Where do Xenos fit in the Fellowship of Man?" Neil hid his smile like a champ. "He seems very interested in what he's been hearing but he was a bit shy to say."
"Neil!" Taya whispered as loud as she dared even while Sayeeda put a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing. Neil didn't bother looking at Saxon, imagining the hulking brute's mandibles curling in anger. Brother Gerome's followers looked to one another and some even appeared threatening, thinking Neil was mocking them. They weren't far from the truth, but Brother Gerome took it in stride as Neil thought he would. The white sun gave a pale gleam to his shirt as he raised his hands.
"It depends on the sect, of course. Some believe man was made in God's image..." he remarked. It was a problem with many human religions. Or to say, not the religion itself, but how men viewed them throughout history. 'Man' was still so commonly used despite an extremely biodiverse galaxy. "However, all who follow the divine creator are welcomed here as brother's and sisters on Ateran. You, your Captain, the young woman, and even your big friend here are all welcome if you wish to stay."
"Hear that Saxon? There's hope yet."
Sayeeda had to place a hand on the Hexa's chest to keep him from walking over and throttling the pilot.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
To the confusion of the colonists, and the amusement of his shipmates, Saxon elected to remain aboard the Highlander as the group set off down the shallow cut roadway into the valley below. Sanctity was one of three villages the colonists had constructed along the length of the valley. The valley itself had once been an allevial flood plain, but a clever system of dykes and berms had tamed the river that cut through the center of it so that the fields could be flooded in the spring to replenish the soil with silt from upstream, without washing away the dwellings. The tradeoff was that a starship as heavy as the Highlander couldn't land on the soft, loamy soil of the village without sinking its struts to the hull. The rocky shoulder of the valley was a better landing, and probably helped to keep curious villagers far from the corrupting influence of their infrequent interstellar visitors. The system of ditches and banks reminded Sayeeda of the native hillforts on Kashkeesh in a way that made her skin crawl. Sanctity itself was a small place two dozen small stone and timber houses with sod covered roofs which doubled as additional gardens. Its dominant feature was a great cathedral in the center of town. At first it boggled Sayeeda's mind that so few people could have constructed the fifty meter long four story structure, but as she pulled down her googles to get a closer look she realized the truth. The cathedral wasn't something the colonists had built. It was the original colony ship itself grounded forever where it had touched down and then lovingly facaded to look like a church.
"The Light of Hope," Gerome said proudly as he feel into step beside her, frowning with slight disapproval at her goggles. Sayeeda ignored the look.
"The original colony ship I assume," Sayeeda said, more for something to say than because she had any real doubt. Gerome nodded.
"We felt it might deter pirates if she were obviously non-flyable," Gerome expounded with a wave to the ship/cathedral. Sayeeda had no doubt that the ship would never lift again, half sunk into the soil and burdened with stone besides. She was less certain that the fact the ship couldn't lift would deter those set on loot and the joy of indiscriminate destruction. Sayeeda was not a religious person. On Celandine it was conventional to pray to The God and Goddess at seasonal festivals, but it was tacitly understood to be symbolic by most. That early faith was kept alive only in occasional curses. Sayeeda had seen the random hand of death too often to believe the universe had a plan, though some part of her mind stubbornly clung to the notion that things would work out for her personally, even though she had nothing to base such an absurd notion upon.
"You have seen much violence in your life I think," Gerome said in a quiet voice he probably meant to be compassionate. Sayeeda glanced at him sidelong and arched an eyebrow. The skin on her arms and hands was speckled with the slight mismatch of synthetic skin sealant which had been used to treat a variety of burn and cuts over the course of her career. Did this man recognize that, or place her tattoos. She shook her head. A lamb could probably recognize a wolf when it saw one, even if that wolf were currently selling coffee. Or maybe it was simpler than that, the captain of a heavily armed freighter out in the back of beyond could be expected to have stomped a head or two in her time.
"Sure," Sayeeda responded noncommittally.
"There is peace to be found here, even if only for a little while," he said gently.
"I'll try to keep my insatiable bloodlust in check," Junebug replied as they reached the outskirts of the village. A few of the colonists stood watching. Some open mouthed and hiding the eyes of their children. So many children. Every matronly mother seemed to have a brood of five or more of the brats running around, with older siblings obviously helping with the work of their large tracts of farm land. Sayeeda was no agriculturalist, but she could recognise corn, potatoes, zaphroot and half a dozen other galactic staples growing in neat rows. Cows and horses were also much in evidence, walled away behind fences of woven mono crystal wire wrapped around posts of local wood.
"The act of killing damages..."
"Gerry, lets just take it as a given that I know more about the 'act of killing' than the whole population of this planet combined right?" she snapped, her irritation sharper than it might have been if she hadn't spent the past 11 days in the RIP.
"You're right, occupational hazard I'm afraid," he said with a good natured laugh.
"Yeah well some occupations are more hazardous than others," Junebug responded. As predicted women's clothing on Ateran was of a conservative cut, high collars and long skirts of greyish homespun. There was something of an irony that they produced beautiful shimmercloth textiles and insisted on clothing themselves in bland monotonous grey. That wasn't to say that shimmer cloth wasn't in evidence. Whatever Rejuvenation Day was it obviously involved alot of decoration. Ribbons of glittering fabric seemed to hang from every house, netting the roofs together in a complex spiderwebs that gave the streets a kind of canopy. The effect grew more pronounced nearer the cathedral where spiral designs and been created by wrapping the shimmercloth around frames of wire and some kind of native bamboo. Long tables were laid out and pilled with food that had been covered with gauzy cloth to keep insects away from it, and fires were prepared if not yet lit at every intersection. Mothers gave Sayeeda and Taya reproachful glances, obviously disapproving of the baring of so much skin. Taya more diplomatic than Junebug uncoiled the scarf from her hair and draped it over her shoulders. A number of young men, dressed in bleached tunics and brown homespun pants gave them looks that weren't quite so reproachful, but liable to be more trouble. A number of the younger women cast similar looks at Neil, whispering behind their hands to one and other and giggling.
"Well be at peace among us, perhaps the Light will reveal to you that you have found a home," Gerome said with an avuncular grin.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
The township, if one could call it that, was quaint and rustic in flavor and population. But he didn't know how far the settlement spanned around the colony ship. Judging by the treeline before they entered the streets, there was likely farmland or some area for extracurricular activities close by. Neil was always fascinated by how even low-tech worlds fashioned their tools and items from various equipment they couldn't hope to manufacture themselves. The group passed by men carrying shovels fashioned out of lasrifles, and a turbine had been reutilized and cut down as a wind sifter above one of the outerlying buildings. Even some of the clothes looked to be remnants of old jackets worn by the spacers who landed here however long ago, though that was only one one or two of the colonists.
The people here had fair hair of brown, blonde, and a few redheads, though Neil and his other crew members seemed to be the only ones with black hair in eyesight. The men were relatively tall and round faced, though strong of arm. The women had feminine features but many had the callused hands of a worker. Had Neil crash landed here a few years ago he would have had his fun with a few of the girls, but at the moment he was more wary of the men eyeing Sayeeda, and to a lesser extent Taya (though the former could certainly handle themselves more than the latter). For Taya's sake, she seemed to enjoy the attention quite a bit, waving to a few of the wide-eyed lads and giving respectful nods to some of the curious onlooking women.
"Are you a pilot?" a voice asked from the crowd, drawing Neil's attention.
It was a boy, about a dozen years younger than Neil. With a moptop of brown hair, he had a bold look to his eyes, but he was overriden with curiosity.
"Yeah how-" Neil began, but he realized the boy made a lucky guess in his ignorance. Anyone was likely a pilot to him and he just happened to pick the one who made it their job. "Yeah, I pilot the ship we flew in. The freighter?" He waited, but the word didn't seem to have registered with the boy. "We call it the Highlander."
"Do you shoot space lasers out of it?"
Neil felt himself cracking up at the on-point question, even as a young women who could either be his older sister or his young mother walked up. She had the same colored hair, long and tied at its end in a ribbon. Her eyes were blue compared to his brown. She placed her hands on the boy's shoulders and looked down at him with a stern look. "Tomas, you don't just bother outlanders. They're busy people..."
"Oh it's ok," Neil said with a smile. "I love answering questions."
She looked up at him, an odd catch in her eyes. "Well that's very kind of you, sir." She said, trying to hide a smile even as her eyes locked onto his. "Maybe later you could answer a few I have?"
"Mmmmmaaaybeeee?" He said, not intending to follow up on that at all. Instead he bounded off, even as the boy began to complain to the woman that she scared Neil away. He seemed to be right on the money today. Neil caught up with the group just as Gerome welcomed them. Before them was a central square, cordoned off with a cleverly designed wooden fence, obviously made to be portable in an event such as this one. Neil imagined the crowd was now far larger because of their presence. Neil stuck close to Sayeeda, grabbing her hand. "I hope they have something strong to drink...but not too strong."</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
The selection of drinks was not much to Sayeeda's liking. She sipped at an earthen mug of apple juice without enthusiasm. Apparently the local definition of cider did not include alcohol. Gerome smiled somewhat sheepishly at her obvious disappointment.
"We consider the consumption of alcohol to be sinful," he admitted. A number of the younger men scowled disapprovingly at the very suggestion. There was clearly something of a disconnect between the younger generation who had been raised in pious seclusion and the oldsters who had direct experience of the galaxy beyond.
"I guess I can keep my sinning in check until I get back to my ship," Sayeeda replied, before winking at Neil.
"Mostly at any rate," she amended, earning herself even darker glares from the fresh faced zealots. Gerome cleared his throat nervously but was spared from comment by the shimmering ring of an electronic chime. He stood and clapped his hands together.
"Brethren!" he called in a clear carrying voice which spoke to a background as an orator of some kind.
"Let us give thanks for the rejuvenation of our world and of our faith! Let us celebrate what God has given us and the blessing he has bestowed upon us. Remember what we have sacrificed, and what we must continue to sacrifice to attain the Grace our Creator has stored up for us. In his blessed name, Amen!"
"Amen," the congregation echoed and then devolved into cheers and shouts. Dancing broke out seemingly simultaneously and young men and women in white linens began to circulate among the crowds, uncovering foods and pouring drinks. Sayeeda smiled and stood up, taking Neil by the hand and leading him towards an open green where couples were beginning to dance. By chance her eyes fell on Gerome, who alone of the celebrants appeared to look troubled.</s>
|
<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Pain throbbed in Junebug's shoulder as she tried to sit up. Unfortunately even with one hand free she wasn't able to loose the straps that bound her ankles and remaining hand. Pursing her lips she thought for a moment and then thumbed the stun batton live in a long arc that heated the teeth almost red hot. Without waiting for it to cool she thrust it down into the strap around her wrist. The plastic warped and melted and Junebug yanked it to snap the last few fibers. From there it was an easy matter to unlock her feet.
"Surrender heretic... Terran filth," the acolyte muttered weakly. He was clutching his stomach still unable to completely regain control of the spasming muscle groups. Junebug stepped over to him and punched him in the face, hard enough that his head bounced off the wall with a crack.
"Welcome to Earth," she muttered.
The bowels of the colony ship were huge, designed as they were to ferry thousands of people, live stock, supplies, and equipment to distant worlds. Junebug slipped through the mase of passages, looking for some kind of central accessway that would take her upwards.
"Saxon," she muttered into her comm, "we could really use your scaly ass right now." There was no answer. The mastoid implant was designed to be linked to a more powerful unit in a vehicle and its unaided range wasn't unlimited. Hopefully that was a factor of range, and Saxon wasn't dead on a bunch of pitchforks. She grinned at the image. If these hicks thought they could take Saxon down like a monster in a holo, they were going to be in for a surprise. Fairly briefly.
Sayeeda ducked into a doorway when a pair of acolytes came around the corner. They didn't seem alarmed, merely strolling along. By their conversation they were trying to debating whether lust or greed was a more damning sin. The hum of machinery caused her to turn. Behind her were a set of air tight doors, likely originally to section off a large life boat or ships launch. Glancing down she saw that the layer of dust that coated the rarely used decks was disturbed. Intrigued she moved to the door and opened it with a touch to the control panel. Inside the air smelled of antiseptic and electronics.
"Fuck," Sayeeda muttered. The walls were lined with life support pods, not dissimilar to the ones that had kept Taya, Neil and Junebug alive for three years following their escape from Taya's homeworld. Inside were women, their bodies all showing signs of recent pregnancy. Banks of monitors showed vital signs. Each one had a name printed above their pod. Rachel, Ruth, Ester, Sarah and so on. The pod furthest from the door held a slim blonde that carried no baby weight. Taya was dressed in a white shift that floated in the nutrient fluid like a drowning victim.
"Well this is fucked up."
"It is the only way," a voice came from behind her.
"I have a gun, please don't do anything rash Captain Cyckali," Gerome said apologetically. Sayeeda turned to see the elderly cleric holding an electromotive shotgun at waist level. He was liable to break his wrists if he fired it like that, but Junebug would still be torn appart by the spreading aerofoiled shot. She gauged the distances and didn't like her chances.
"You don't have a though shalt not kidnap a bunch of people and trap them in stasis pods in that book of yours?" she asked, raising both hands. Gerome clucked regretfully.
"When we first got here we were full of hope and faith," the old man explained, guesturing with the muzzle of the gun for Junebug to move down towards where Taya lay in stasis. Junebug moved, slowly, following the guesture.
"But then you opened up a sideline in kidnaping and rape? All kinky after you got dissiulioned," she pressed. Gerome made a disgusted sound.
"There are microorganisms here, nothing that will kill you and nothing we picked up on our initial survey. It results in infertility for anyone who spends more than a few months on the surface. We tried hiring microbiologists to create vaccines but nothing worked. We couldn't let the Light of God go out on this world."
"So now we get to the kidnapping part?" Junebug prodded as she passed Taya's pod.
"There are always a few traders, drifters, sometimes women would choose to stay with us, they don't suffer," Gerome said pleadingly. Sayeeda stopped disgusted beyond her fear of the gun.
"So you keep them as breeding stock?! What the fuck is wrong with you people?!"
"Please don't make this any harder than it needs to be Captain," Gerome begged. She could envision the colonists debating the ethics of such a monstrous plan. It always seemed like sufficiently motivated religious folk could justify any horror in the name of a higher power. Half of the wars she had fought in her time with the Armored had religious motivators even if it was normally civil authority that did the hiring.
"So you kidnap people and impregnate them over and over," she asked.
"It's a sterile proccedure, there is no actual intercourse," Gerome appologised.
"Yeah well that makes it much better," Sayeeda responded dryly. She reached the empty pod beyond Tayas. The writing above it said 'Deborah'.
"If you will climb in please captain, I promise it will be over quickly, you will age slowly but eventually you wont be fertile any more and we will let you go," he assured her.
"I'm already infertile, that's why you had you doctor looking me over remember," she restored putting one hand on either side of the access portal.
"It will just be until we can review your results, please I don't want to kill you," Gerome all but wept. Sayeeda sighed and let her shoulders sag slightly.
"Not really a Deborah though," she commented, "more of a Lilith." Junebug tensed her shoulders and leaped upwards. The gun boomed behind her but she was already kicking off the stais pod, flipping up and over Gerome's head narrowly avoiding the ricoheting pellets. An experienced gunman might have got off a second shot but Gerome was barely managing to hold the weapon, a look of horror on his face. He began to turn but Sayeeda was behind him. She caught the barrel of the gun in one hand and drove a palm into his shoulder, ripping the weapon free. She kicked him in the hip slamming him into the pod. It wasn't a fight. He was an old man and a noncombatant.
"Lord! Deliver me from evil!" he shrieked. Damn it was pathetic. She stepped forward, gripped him by the back of the tunic and heaved him into the pod, slapping the closure. It wasn't the approved way to put someone in stasis, but she pulled the activator switch anyway. There were already shouts of alarm so she rushed over to the Taya's pod and began looking for the decanting sequence.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil did not stay for long.
Taking a heavy wrench, he decided to leave the room untouched except for the one servitor whom he broke apart with a few heavy swings, mostly to see how well built they were and what made them tick with a cursory glance of the fallen corpse. It only took him one or two minutes of bludgeoning and examination before he ran off, leaving the children in the other servitor's care. As much as he wanted to liberate everyone here, the Highlander was not a nursery, and while he was pro-choice, this seemed to be a bit late in the pregnancy. The real injustice was to the women, particularly two he wanted to find pretty badly.
Neil went off, searching high and low. Every twenty meters there was an archway; some had nothing but voids behind them, others had similar birthing chambers, and some were essentially armories or storage rooms. No matter where he went, he couldn't find where they held the women, at least until he found an archaic stairway, the railings emblazoned with silver lines and stars in constellations he vaguely recognized. He didn't dally and wait around. Instead he sprinted up the stairs, wondering if he would ever find his fucking girlfriend and Taya.
The first door on floor two, he saw Sayeeda breaking Taya out of stasis. Neil saw Gerome in one of the pods in the midst of the women and he shook his head. The old priest really should have known better than to fuck with his junebug. He couldn't help but admire the sheer audacity. For Neil's part, he lazily leaned against the archway as she unlocked and shut down the stasis chamber, the air depressurizing and opening up for Taya to wobbly fall out of her limp constraints and into Junebug's arms.
"God, you're terrible at this." Neil said, and Sayeeda's combat enhanced reflexes moved with the speed of a hunting cat, her gun barrel pointed at Neil, her recognition of him just a second quicker than her decision to kill whatever made an unexpected noise within her presence. She lowered her gun in relief and smiled. Neil just shook his head. "You're the damsel in distress. You couldn't wait for three minutes before I rescued you. God!"
A 'spring' and a small crater chipping into the steel above his head made him jump, and more gunfire followed as Neil leaped into the room as weapons cracked from the stairway. Neil hugged the wall by the door, and Sayeeda laughed and tossed the 10 mm pistol she had procured from Gerome's companion. "Now's your chance, cowboy." She teased, dragging Taya behind some of the pods while she woke her up.
Shouts were heard down the hall, followed by more gunfire. Neil looked around, looked at his gun, then decided on a course of action. Seconds later, the four colonists, three with handguns and one with a double barreled shotgun entered the room, the first two immediately firing to the left and right. They were the first two to get shot in the head, but from above. The bullets ripping into them sent them into spasms. Swinging his upper body upside down to gaze into the hallway, lower body on the roof of the arch, Neil shot three times, killing the last two colonists. The shotgun went off, cracking apart of the wall and ricocheting pellets across the hall. No one screamed out, so everyone pursing must be dead.
"Clear!" he called.</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
It probably said something about the last couple of years that rather than reacting to the sudden flurry of gunfire she merely peered around in confusions.
"What do they want from us," she asked, color slowly returning to her face as the effects of the cryosleep drugs continued to burn off. Junebug peered out into the corridor, finding it clear.
"Worry later, get out of here now," Junebug told her, not wanting to open the can of worms right now. Taya leaned down and scooped up a shotgun from one of the corpses, stepping awkwardly around the spreading pool of blood.
"Right," she murmured, shaking her head to clear it. Despite the fact that she had been training Taya for several months, Sayeeda would have been happier if she hadn't picked up the weapon. A blast from that in these tight quarters might accidentally clip her, or Neil, or both. It was an uncomfortably familiar feeling, local allies were usually not to the standard of the mercs they hired, but you had to live with it. Or not of course, but you couldn't think that way.
"Let's move," Junebug declared, leading the way out into the hallway. While the interior of the ship was a warren, it was a simple fact of finding a companionway and heading upwards towards the surface. The ship was big enough that if there were other colonists aboard they couldn't form a clear picture of what was going on. Unfortunately by the the ship only had two exit ports that were easily accessible. One of them had been welded shut, the other had been dressed in the fake stone of the cathedral. A group of confused and nervous looking men, a dozen or so, stood infront of it. They were armed but clearly unsure of what to do. Sayeeda looked speculatively at her pistol and then across at Neil, who screwed up his face in an expression that read: Maybe but Maybe not.
"We can wait for them to try to come in," Junebug suggested, at close range there was a chance that the three of them could take a bunch untrained rustics. Given the shotguns though, there was a fair chance one or all of them would wind up dead.
"Maybe we should go back and try to use the old man as a hostage," Taya suggested. Junebug shook her head.
"Religious types are always willing to die for the cause," she explained. She tapped a finger to her temple.
"Saxon, are you reading me?" she asked through her mastoid implant. There was no response. Stars above where was the lizard? She couldn't imagine these rubes storming the Highlander and taking down the Hex. Perhaps some kind of jamming equipment was at play.
"We need a distraction," she said, eyes flicking to Neil for inspiration.</s>
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<|description|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Nickname(Optional): June Bug
Age: 33
Gender: Female
Physical Appearance: Sayeeda is a medium sized woman of middle eastern extraction. She has the wiry build of a swimmer or long distance runner. Her eyes are dark and almond shaped and focus slightly beyond the horizon most of the time. Sayeeda keeps her hair just longer than a buzz cut in order to facilitate wearing her helmet. She has a large tattoo of several owls in flight on her right shoulder. Sayeeda does have feminine curves but her breasts are on the smaller size of average and she does very little to emphasize her gender.
Clothing: Camo pants and a tank top are her civilian dress. She wears a ceramic breastplate if she is expecting trouble and also has a commo helmet which she uses in battle and for technical tasks.
Personality: Sayeeda is a former mercenary soldier and has a fairly relaxed view towards life. Anything and anyone not currently shooting at her is the second priority. She is very tightly wound when it comes to people doing what she expects them too in dangerous situations and she is extremely punctilious when it comes to fulfilling any sort of formal contract.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil did not stay for long.
Taking a heavy wrench, he decided to leave the room untouched except for the one servitor whom he broke apart with a few heavy swings, mostly to see how well built they were and what made them tick with a cursory glance of the fallen corpse. It only took him one or two minutes of bludgeoning and examination before he ran off, leaving the children in the other servitor's care. As much as he wanted to liberate everyone here, the Highlander was not a nursery, and while he was pro-choice, this seemed to be a bit late in the pregnancy. The real injustice was to the women, particularly two he wanted to find pretty badly.
Neil went off, searching high and low. Every twenty meters there was an archway; some had nothing but voids behind them, others had similar birthing chambers, and some were essentially armories or storage rooms. No matter where he went, he couldn't find where they held the women, at least until he found an archaic stairway, the railings emblazoned with silver lines and stars in constellations he vaguely recognized. He didn't dally and wait around. Instead he sprinted up the stairs, wondering if he would ever find his fucking girlfriend and Taya.
The first door on floor two, he saw Sayeeda breaking Taya out of stasis. Neil saw Gerome in one of the pods in the midst of the women and he shook his head. The old priest really should have known better than to fuck with his junebug. He couldn't help but admire the sheer audacity. For Neil's part, he lazily leaned against the archway as she unlocked and shut down the stasis chamber, the air depressurizing and opening up for Taya to wobbly fall out of her limp constraints and into Junebug's arms.
"God, you're terrible at this." Neil said, and Sayeeda's combat enhanced reflexes moved with the speed of a hunting cat, her gun barrel pointed at Neil, her recognition of him just a second quicker than her decision to kill whatever made an unexpected noise within her presence. She lowered her gun in relief and smiled. Neil just shook his head. "You're the damsel in distress. You couldn't wait for three minutes before I rescued you. God!"
A 'spring' and a small crater chipping into the steel above his head made him jump, and more gunfire followed as Neil leaped into the room as weapons cracked from the stairway. Neil hugged the wall by the door, and Sayeeda laughed and tossed the 10 mm pistol she had procured from Gerome's companion. "Now's your chance, cowboy." She teased, dragging Taya behind some of the pods while she woke her up.
Shouts were heard down the hall, followed by more gunfire. Neil looked around, looked at his gun, then decided on a course of action. Seconds later, the four colonists, three with handguns and one with a double barreled shotgun entered the room, the first two immediately firing to the left and right. They were the first two to get shot in the head, but from above. The bullets ripping into them sent them into spasms. Swinging his upper body upside down to gaze into the hallway, lower body on the roof of the arch, Neil shot three times, killing the last two colonists. The shotgun went off, cracking apart of the wall and ricocheting pellets across the hall. No one screamed out, so everyone pursing must be dead.
"Clear!" he called.</s>
<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
It probably said something about the last couple of years that rather than reacting to the sudden flurry of gunfire she merely peered around in confusions.
"What do they want from us," she asked, color slowly returning to her face as the effects of the cryosleep drugs continued to burn off. Junebug peered out into the corridor, finding it clear.
"Worry later, get out of here now," Junebug told her, not wanting to open the can of worms right now. Taya leaned down and scooped up a shotgun from one of the corpses, stepping awkwardly around the spreading pool of blood.
"Right," she murmured, shaking her head to clear it. Despite the fact that she had been training Taya for several months, Sayeeda would have been happier if she hadn't picked up the weapon. A blast from that in these tight quarters might accidentally clip her, or Neil, or both. It was an uncomfortably familiar feeling, local allies were usually not to the standard of the mercs they hired, but you had to live with it. Or not of course, but you couldn't think that way.
"Let's move," Junebug declared, leading the way out into the hallway. While the interior of the ship was a warren, it was a simple fact of finding a companionway and heading upwards towards the surface. The ship was big enough that if there were other colonists aboard they couldn't form a clear picture of what was going on. Unfortunately by the the ship only had two exit ports that were easily accessible. One of them had been welded shut, the other had been dressed in the fake stone of the cathedral. A group of confused and nervous looking men, a dozen or so, stood infront of it. They were armed but clearly unsure of what to do. Sayeeda looked speculatively at her pistol and then across at Neil, who screwed up his face in an expression that read: Maybe but Maybe not.
"We can wait for them to try to come in," Junebug suggested, at close range there was a chance that the three of them could take a bunch untrained rustics. Given the shotguns though, there was a fair chance one or all of them would wind up dead.
"Maybe we should go back and try to use the old man as a hostage," Taya suggested. Junebug shook her head.
"Religious types are always willing to die for the cause," she explained. She tapped a finger to her temple.
"Saxon, are you reading me?" she asked through her mastoid implant. There was no response. Stars above where was the lizard? She couldn't imagine these rubes storming the Highlander and taking down the Hex. Perhaps some kind of jamming equipment was at play.
"We need a distraction," she said, eyes flicking to Neil for inspiration.</s>
<|message|>Neil Edwards. Codename "Firestorm."
Neil looked at his girlfriend with raised brows, then looked at Taya and shrugged, nodding. "Sure, yeah."
Junebug cocked the hammer on her semi-auto and held it up at the ready while Taya wiggled behind her, still half drugged and confused at what exactly was happening. Neil took the moment to look around at their surroundings, up, to the side, and then at the ground. He found a few rocks to the left of the door, likely made of the rockcrete they used to make the archway. One was roughly the size of his fist. He shoot his hand out and grabbed it quickly, and only one man cried out at his exposed flesh, firing at where his hand had been, far too slowly. The others followed suit, firing at the empty entryway, causing the three to pull back as bullets ricocheted off the false granite and steel of the ship's hull. Neil started whistling, idly tossing the rock up and catching it while the fail of gunfire rained around them.
Soon the gunfire abated, loud clicking accompanying uneasy claims of needing to reload. Neil almost felt bad for them, but the fun he was having usually outstripped his guilt, particularly when they were trying to kill him. He cleared his throat, puffing his chest out.
"Grenade!"
The plain rock was openly tossed out of the entryway, sailing through the air. Before it even hit the ground, the brainwashed zealots scattered like mice, devoid of dignity and any hopes of ever getting laid. Neil shook his head, clearly enjoying the spectacle. Junebug didn't hesitate, raising her gun and stepping out like a maiden of war, her 10mm bloodied and pierced any men that looked like there was any hope of resistance. Villagers near where the party was being taken down became utterly scattered, screeching and clutching babies and small children.
Past some of the structures, something lurked. One of the transit vehicles was suddenly pushed on its side by something with immeasurable strength, and suddenly one of the fleeing men was lifted off the ground, impaled by a spike that sent his body in shudders. A saurian thing stepped out into view, and Neil sighed when he realized it was Saxon. A few slugs struck him, most bouncing off his ridged plates, one or two striking flesh but only doing superficial damage. He ignored them and began to devour the man he had on a spit, swallowing him whole. Even as the man's form was washed down his gullet, Saxon was on the move again. He snatched up one of the fleeing children next, his mandibles flexing as he marveled at the morsel.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Neil called, holding his hand out and pointing his gun Saxon's way. The xeno's predatory head switched to Neil, growling at the interruption. Neil glared at him like a dog, and judging by the looks of the crew behind him, he felt like he was vindicated when Saxon gave another growl and idly tossed the child away, causing the boy to roll across the ground relatively unharmed. "You humans are so picky! Adult, babe, they'll all be foes soon."</s>
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<|message|>Sayeeda Cyckali
Taya looked sick at Saxon's brutal dispatch of the villager. Junebug could remember a time when such a thing would have shocked her, but that was many years and many plasma bolts ago now. She felt a kind of hollowness inside of her as her mind ran through the possibilities of taking children hostage to guarantee safe passage to the ship. It hardly seemed necessary. These people were beaten and broken. There was a grim calculus to it all, the lives they had taken would be very difficult to replace.
"I can't believe you slept with him," Taya muttered, eyes locked on Saxon.
"Watch your sector," Junebug snapped, it was merc slang for mind your own business, but it was practical advice in this context also. The villagers were running but it only took one sniper to ruin your whole life. Junebug didn't glance at Neil but she hoped he hadn't heard that. The last thing she needed was for him to get all mopy about something that was long over and done with.
"Move out," Junebug ordered and the trio broke into a jog heading back west towards where the Highlander lay waiting.
The cathedral tower smoked sullenly, a quarter of its height sheared away by three precisely placed plasma bolts from the Highlander's main battery, the mass of plasteel and masonry had crushed several more houses. Smoke drifted up from several smaller fires where flying debris had set fire to houses but Sayeeda had permitted the locals to form bucket brigades to extinguish them. Even if she decided to ice the lot of them afterwards, it kept them occupied for the moment. The Highlander itself had been shifted to a ridge with a line of sight on the village, its heavy guns able to bear on the whole area. Runners had been sent to the other villages along the valley, warning them that any attempt to intervene would result in complete obliteration. Sayeeda hoped that they would take the warning seriously. She wouldn't take any pleasure in slaughtering a bunch of hapless peasants if they were stupid, but she had done worse, and more than once.
"You must understand our perspective," Brother Gerome bleated. The priest looked pale, waxy and unhealthy, eyes sunken and with the slight tremble common to poorly preformed cryostasis proccedures. Junebug was kitted out in her full battle dress, battered breastplate and combat helmet with visor down. The boxy brutal form of her disruptor rifle hung from a patrol sling, pointed forward but not aimed anywhere in particular. If the villagers had rushed her all at once, it was possible they might have overwhelmed her, but Junebug didn't think there was much chance of that. Several of the young men were in the process of heaving they cryopods out of the cathedral on hover dollies, sweating and muttering from fighting with the inertia of the things.
"For gods sake at least leave the ones who are with child, those children have fathers here and…" Gerome's entreaty ended in a grunt as Junebug swung the butt of her rifle into his face, sending him reeling back in a spray of blood from a broken nose. She followed him, kicked his legs out from under him and gave him another blow across the back of his head, dropping him senseless to the dirt. Cries of alarms went up and she drew her pistol from her belt and turned so that her rifle covered the villagers while the side arm pointed at the unconscious priests head.
"Keep moving," she said in a tone that was so without inflection it seemed to come from a robot rather than a woman. The pods resumed moving, heading down the road towards the distant highlander.
"That is the last of them," Taya reported, glaring down at Gerome with hatred as hot as Sayeeda's was cold. That was understandable given how close she had come to joining his little breeding program. Junebug lifted the pistol and offered to to Taya, nodding her chin towards Gerome. The blonde woman shook her head.
"Your loss," Junebug said, tucking the weapon back into her belt.
"My father said that revenge is rarely good business," she said quietly, eyes following a cart loaded with bolts of shimmer cloth as it rumbled down the road following the pods. None of them saw any sense in leaving the villagers with any valuables, though they hadn't bothered to search individual houses. Junebug grinned and though the expression was vicious it at least had a hint of humanity to it.
"I suppose that rather depends on the business you are in," she replied philosophically.
"Lets get out of here, I think I have all the bucolic pastoral scenery I need for the moment," she told Taya. As she turned and began walking down the track, her mind turned to Neil and their next destination, thoughts of burning villages dwindling away in her mind.</s>
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<|description|>Olivia Turner
Olivia Turner
"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us."
Gender: Female
Age: 29
Alignment: Guild/Non-Magic
Rank within Organisation: Currently non-member
Birthmark Shape: No Birthmark - however Olivia has a scar on the right side of her neck from a failed mugging attempt when she was in her early 20's.
Non-Magical Abilities: Olivia is a brown belt student of Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and has studied for 6 years. She was a track athlete during high-school and because of this is a skilled sprinter.
Place of Birth: New York
Currently Residing: New York
Personality: Olivia would be described by her peers as enthusiastic, curious, spiritually inclined, warm, and at times can be naive. She is an incredibly friendly person, despite having had some shocking events in her past - she was able to move through them with guidance and therapy. With others, she is open, empathetic, and patient - and often will cross paths with people needing help in some way. She has an in-built desire to help people and to positively change the world on a large scale.
History/Bio: Olivia was born and raised in New York, and lived an ordinary middle-class life. She was a good student, and was part of her high school track team. She had many friends and a comfortable upbringing. Her parents were kind and generous to her and her friends. Olivia finally left home at 18 to attend college on a track scholarship, studying human biology.
It was during her third year of college that her life was changed; whilst walking home she was accosted by a group of thugs who held her at knifepoint to mug her. The largest mugger was about to slit her throat, and in fact the knife was already cut into her neck when they were stopped by a stranger wielding magic. Olivia remembers very little about the stranger, or what happened to the muggers. She only remembers waking up in the hospital.
For many months after this incident, Olivia suffered with severe post-traumatic stress. She was unable to leave the house, suffered from panic attacks and crippling fear. She dropped out of college, and never finished her degree and studies. It was during this time a friend encouraged her to enrol in a Brazilian Jiu Jitsu academy. Learning this discipline guided her through her trauma and allowed her to come out of the other side stronger, and more spiritual. People tended not to believe her when she explained she was saved by someone with magic - especially her parents.
For the last 6 years, Olivia has worked at a prestigious technology company in New York as part of a medical research team, having worked her way up through sheer grit and determination. By night, she is a host of an online community dedicated and obsessed with championing magic users, and uncovering the conspiracy that hides them from non-magic users. Her real reason for this site is to finally find the stranger who saved her to thank them, and to prove to herself that this person was real.
Relationships
Name: Rose Miller
Relationship:Acquaintance/boss
Characters opinion of them: Olivia has no real opinion of Rose, she is only someone that she passes each day at work.</s>
<|message|>Elena Crow
Elena Crow
---
Date: August 2nd, 2017
Location: Personal Quarters, Hotel - NYC
Time: 5:23am
---
Elena woke up with a jolt, finding her covers on the floor and her pillow nearly there itself. Flopping back into the bed she ran a hand through her tangled hair muttering a soft damn at the clock. Nearly twenty minutes later she was still there, wide awake, still unable to recall what had awaken her so abruptly.
So she started running through things in her mind. She was awake at this point anyways.
Yesterday had been fruitless. There was too much going on, but not enough for her to get involved with yet. She was a field agent, not a desk jockey. And Rose was too engaged to speak with, given the train incident that they were certain was caused by the Dark Shadows.
So she'd picked up a hotel and settled in. Relentlessly bored, she'd take to starting Tokyo Ghoul, having been interested in the anime for a while now but never finding the time (or motivation) to begin. She'd been hooked from episode one and had finally gotten herself to sleep not long after midnight.
Rubbing her eyes, she started her morning routine.
Shower. Handle her hair. Brush her teeth. Start some coffee. Make breakfast.
She'd made it to the coffee when she pulled out her laptop and logged into The Guildserv. She looked at it occasionally, every few months or so. And honestly, she was just bored.
After skimming a bunch of crap as she sipped at her coffee she paused in the middle of lifting her mug.
"No. It can't be. Can it?" She murmured, staring at a post from one in the morning.
It had to be. There's no other explanation. That's... That's her. It has to be...
Her mug clanged on the table as she set it down quickly, pushing it away as her hand shook slightly.
With a shake of her head to move the hair out of her eyes, Elena started typing quickly.
---
In the shadows, you are found.
In the blackness of ink, parts of me come to life.
Broken pieces running to become whole, stolen from what they once knew.
We once studied to-
Gether. But now we know not
Where the other is.
Like the worm, I sit in the Apple. Where has my mystery gone? I wish to sit with her once more.
---
Elena hit Send on her first post on The Guildserv, ever, releasing pent up breath. When had she started holding her breath?
This had to be her old friend. She wanted - no, needed - it to be.
And only her friend would understand the hidden messages in the post, the details of their powers and shared experiences, of Elena's own location in New York.
She sat there for a while before reminding herself she needed breakfast, her laptop open behind her.</s>
<|message|>Harrison Oak (known to most as Oak)
---
Harrison Oak
---
Date: 1st of August 2017
Location: The Musketeers Bar – Manhattan, NYC
Time: 2100
---
Oak slowly waddled along the relatively quiet New York Streets, his eyes periodically flicking between the path ahead and the map displayed on his phone. On more than one occasion his multitasking caused him to bump into another bystander or cross clumsily into someone's way. What a tourist. He thanked the gods of technology though, for without google maps there was no way that he would have found that bar.
"The Musketeers" he exhaled with relief as he finally set his eyes on the place. He doubled checked the photos that Melisa, his target, had posted the night before and confirmed that he was indeed at the right venue. The place had a more traditional style, and almost reminded him of the pubs he was used. A wall sign with three crossed swords hung suspended off the wall just by the unmonitored front-door. The windows were mostly obscured by royal blue curtains, a typical way of hiding how quiet a place could be (though it did not take much effort to gaze through if one really wanted to). Walking inside Oak found the place relatively empty, with at most a dozen patrons. Perhaps not surprising considering it was a Tuesday night, but at least it meant it would be easier to survey.
"Could I get a pint of stella please?" Oak asked the bored looking barman as he took a seat on one of the many tall wooden stools lining the marble bar. A row of taps sat before him, mostly advertising beers and ales that he was unfamiliar with.
The barman, a lanky looking hipster with ironically large glasses and a man-bun, raised an eyebrow in response to the request and he sluggishly dragged himself over. "Sorry, we don't sell that."
"Erm… Could I get a bud then?" Oak replied, trying to think of the most 'American Beer' he knew of. The bartender clearly didn't like that brand either and rolled his eyes in response before typing the order onto the till and turning around the car machine for his customer. What a dick.
Once he got his drink, Oak didn't bother trying to make conversation and instead found himself a quiet corner to sit in whilst he logged onto the bar's wifi and carried on his digital stalking. Looking over the profiles of Melisa's new friends, it was obvious that this place was a regular drinking hole for them. It seemed unlikely that they would just happen to come in tonight, especially having been here the night before, but until any the persons of interest posted anything fresher, waiting around the bar was the best course of action. He'd just have to sit and wait.
---
Date: 2nd of August 2017
Location: Streets of Manhattan, NYC
Time: 0145
---
You know what's not fun? Slowly nursing five bottles of bud over a four hour period in a dead-bar with no company.
Oak futilely rubbed his darkened eyes in an attempt to rid himself of his tiredness – and for a moment it seemed to work, before a long yawn seemed to throw him back into sleepiness. He could not sit here any longer, and the place would be closing soon anyway. He had wasted the night, and although it wasn't like he had anything else better to do, he could not help but feel disappointed. He took a big breath before standing, allowing him to accidentally get a waft of body odour from another nearby patron. He grimaced slightly and headed for the door, his hands already reaching for his pack of cigarettes.
His leads might not have shown up that night, but he knew it was likely they would eventually. It was a bit of solace at least. Oak was not so prepared to spend his nights there though, but fortunately for him he would not need to. Having left the premise, Oak wandered over to one of the windows and placed his hand flat against it for a few seconds. The dark eye mark on a transparent surface like this would let him get a good view of both the inside and outside of the bar, so he could observe from elsewhere.
With that done he lent back against the wall and placed a cigarette in his mouth. He looked around with a hint of caution before using his pyromancy, but there wasn't a great deal of footfall – at least not on his side of the street. There was a girl in multi-coloured clothing sitting on a bench opposite, but Oak doubted she would notice anything from where she was. It only took a light pinch between his index finger and his thumb (and some concentration of course) for a small spark to set alight the dried paper, and in moments he was inhaling sweet toxins. Wisps of grey rose in front of his eyes as he enjoyed the first toke. Satisfied, he then began the long walk back to his accommodation.</s>
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<|message|>Olivia Turner
Out in the bustling streets of New York, Olivia noted that while many people stood around the shop windows to watch coverage of the train explosion, many more just kept on with their day. The speculations seemed to linger around this being a terrorist attack of some sort, but of course there was no mention of the chance of magic. How could people be so blind? It frustrated her.
She was the sort of non-magic user who was ready for full disclosure - for both magic and non-magic alike to live together freely. There was so much to learn and achieve from this. Still, few people agreed. She wondered what the political situation in the magic world was like. What was their protocol for this attack. Sadly this was a world that was hidden behind a veil, and she might not ever get to peep behind it, and certainly never step behind it.
As she paced towards the subway, she began to see a crowd of disgruntled commuters leaving the station - and then she saw the sign. The subway was being closed. A precaution until they had dealt with the situation in Jefferson National Forest. She supposed that yes, the subway lines of New York City were certainly not safe against magical users. It was too far to walk home, but she had left the office. If she could get to a cafe with WiFi she might be able to squeeze in a visit to her forum and even accompany it with a latte or two.
_________
She took the frothy hot drink from the barista before taking a seat by the window, her laptop booting up as she took the first sip. There was a flyer at her table about an art auction in the city this evening. She was to be there, representing her company who had been a sponsor in the event. She knew that Rose was going to be there - not that Olivia would see her. She'd be in the back, taking requests for information and details from any of the attendees who were interested in the company's service. She might even get roped in to packaging the art work too.
It would be a boring evening though, and most likely dampened heavily after the events of today. At least she got to wear a nice dress though; paid for by the company too! She remembered the executive who had chosen her and several other women from various departments, his exact words had been "you look very nice, at least for someone who works in the laboratories." A backhanded compliment if ever she had heard one.
As expected, her friends were going wild over the news and were already speculating on who the strange man was. One user had theorised it was the leader of a faction who wanted to wipe out all humans... Olivia chuckled at the thought. "You watch too many movies my friend..." she muttered as she took another sip, staring out of the window and into the streets. She wondered just how many of the people walking past were gifted.
It was now 6 hours until the event. She would have to think about getting ready soon, with the subways shut down she'd have to take a cab to her apartment... This changed the course of the day indeed.</s>
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<|description|>Edwin Tai
///Fetching Enlisted Service Record M35886-21M35-13257-AA/S...
///Record Found... Query 424...
Age:
28
Gender:
Male
Homeworld:
Mars, Olympus Highlands
Rank:
Corporal
Role:
Anti-Armor/Sapper
Experience:
Seven years as a UNSC Marine. Following his firing from the Reyes-McLees Martian Orbital Shipyards, with no other options left to him due to the circumstances of his firing Tai enlisted in the UNSC Marines at the age of twenty one in the year 2519. Tai went on to take part in Operation: TREBUCHET in the Eridanis System as a part of the 9th Marine Expeditionary Force, facing Insurrectionist forces over the course of the next four years before being reassigned to Reach following injuries sustained in combat.
Bio:
Born in a suburb of the Olympus Highlands; located on, around, and even under Olympus Mons; Edwin Tai was raised as an only child by his parents Melissa and Jeong Tai both of which were biology professors at a university located an hours travel from the Olympus Highlands. Although raised by two successful individuals, Edwin found himself mixed up in the wrong crowd by the end of of his highschool education. His parents, not very happy with his life choices and the fact his grades were not high enough to land him in any of the very competitive universities on Mars pulled a few strings with some of the professors they knew in the School of Engineering at their university and landed the then delinquent Tai a job working in orbit at the Reyes-McLees Martian Orbital Shipyards.
For the next three years Tai would work in orbit above Mars, the realization that he couldn't be the spoiled and delinquent child he had been in school hit him quickly as everyday he watched his home pass below him. Soon enough Tai found himself taking pride in his work, his a hands taking part in the construction of many of the great ships of the UNSC and CMA Naval forces. Apt with a welding torch, Tai was quickly placed in an apprenticeship position and expected to learn the trade within his first year. By the end of the year the Master welder that Tai had been shadowing decided that he was knowledgeable enough to work on simpler welds without supervision. Satisfied, the yard foreman would cut Tai loose on smaller welds and expect him to continue following Journeymen and Master welders whenever his welds were complete.
Following an unfortunate accident on a CMA vessel that resulted in the death of twelve CMA sailors when welds gave way to hard vacuum under a high-g maneuver, Tai and two Journeymen that had worked on that portion of the ship were let go in order for Reyes-McLees to hold onto the trust of the UNSC and CMA.
Out of a job, and his parents now unwilling to house him, Tai found himself outside of a UNSC Marine Corps recruiting depot and signing his life away by the end of the month. Following graduation from boot camp, Tai was assigned to the forces that were currently taking part in Operation TREBUCHET as a replacement for a recently injured Marine. Taking part in a handful of smaller operations against the Insurrectionist forces.
On Eridanus II on the 19th of March, 2523, a then fireteam leader Corporal Tai would find his Warthog mounted patrol of two fireteams ambushed in a small farming hamlet. Following an improvised explosive devices detonation beneath the lead Warthog to open the ambush, Corporal Tai and his fireteam would find themselves pinned by effective fire from two heavily entrenched machine gun positions at nearly one hundred fifty meters to their left. Leading a desperate diversionary assault with one other member of his fireteam, Corporal Tai and Private First Class Leads would draw the entrenched positions fires away from the two Warthogs long enough for the remaining fireteam members to retrieve the two pinned survivors from the Warthogs wreckage. Tai and Leads would go on to successfully destroy one of the two machine gun nests with a set of five bound together grenades before being pinned by the second machine gun.
Pinned by the now destroyed first machine gun nest, Tai and Leads would attempt to make their way back to their Warthog after laying smoke but would both be hit by the random fire coming through the smoke screen. Following what would turn out to be a forty minute long fire fight which culminated in the destruction of the second machine gun nest by a flight of UNSC Hornets, Tai and Leads would be CASEVAC'd by Pelican Gunship. Corporal Tai would be awarded a Navy and Marine Corps Commendation Medal with Combat "V" for his actions that day as well as a Purple Heart for his injuries while Private First Class Leads would be posthumously awarded a Bronze Star for outstanding heroism in the face of overwhelming odds and a Purple Heart for his ultimate sacrifice during the ambush.
Corporal Tai was sent to Reach to recover in the more capable medical facilities there where he would remain until the beginning of the Human-Covenant War. Following his full recuperation Tai was offered the chance to attend the Marine Sapper course, where he would learn how to effectively using many forms of explosives and weapons systems to breach buildings, deny areas, reclaim areas, and destroy enemy forces in battle. Following his successful graduation he was promoted to Sergeant, which would be taken away just six months later following a bar fight with a Second Lieutenant that resulted in a large amount of property damage.
Personality:
Tai can normally be found pouring over the latest in available data sets on Covenant weapons systems or reading some sort of technical specifications manual. He is known to be sarcastic at all times and tends to get right to the problem at hand when in combat. Outside of combat Tai is rather easy to approach, easy going and sociable, Tai has no problem putting a stop on what he is doing to be an ear for a younger Marine or Sailor and enjoys the company of others even while reading. Tai also a tendency to make distasteful jokes with great timing, much to the chagrin of his superiors.
Appearance
Gear:
MA5B ICWS
M6E Magnum
1x Thermite Grenade
1x Satchel Charge
M41 Surface-to-Surface Rocket Medium Anti-Vehicle/Assault Weapon
UNSC Battle Dress Uniform
Multi-Tool
Standard Issue Combat Knife
Relationships:
///Error Fetching Results...
Awards and Accommodations:
01FEB2523 -- Good Conduct Medal
01JUN2523 -- Purple Heart for Injuries sustained in support of Operation: TREBUCHET on 19MAR2523
01JUN2523 -- Navy and Marine Corps Commendation Medal with Combat "V" for Heroic Service while serving on Epsilon Eridanus on 19MAR2523
01JUN2523 -- Operation: TREBUCHET Participation Medal
01NOV2523 -- Sapper Designation earned after successful graduation from course located on Reach.
24MAY2524 -- Non-Judicial Punishment resulting in demotion from Sergeant to Corporal- Assaulting or Willfully Disobeying a Superior Officer</s>
<|message|>Connor "Conn" M. Webley
Lance Corporal Connor Webley and Sergeant Sofia Vargas
"Y'know." Connor began, leaning up against the cryo pod that had, up until a few hours ago, housed him. "This ship is never fuckin' quiet, but it's real goddamn loud today."
"You think it has something to with the fact that thousands of soldiers are all beginning to prepare for deployment?" Sofia retorted, sarcastically. She, unlike her Corpsman, was already in her BDU. She was composed, well-kempt, not at all like Webley. Connor could not look messier if he were trying.
"Look, I'm not asking for them to be quiet, I'm just wondering if they coul-" He was interrupted by the sound of a crate being dropped, followed by shouting. Connor rolled his eyes, stood up, and walked past the rows of empty cryo pods, to the room's entrance. Then, he shouted. "I'm just wondering if any of these Jarheads could use their fucking inside voices!"
"Connor, do you ever shut up?"
"Gee, I dunno Sarge, do you ever manage to get the stick out of your ass?"
"Go get your BDU and your gear, meet me in the Hangar."
"Where's everyone else?"
"Hopefully headed to the Hangar, too. We leave in less than an hour."
"Oh boy. I'm ever-so-excited to go and die for a lifeless rock."
"You're from ED-2. Where's your Outtie pride and solidarity?"
"I just think it's stupid to try and recapture a planet we can't live on when there're other Colonies that need defending."
"Careful with that shit, Webley. You never know when the spooks are listening."
"Spooky."
"Ha. That's real funny." Vargas pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Go get your shit together, Conn." To her surprise, the Corpsman actually started moving.
"Whatever you say, Sarge."</s>
<|message|>Ralf Thann
Private Ralf Thann
"That ought to do it." A rather hollow bang emits when Ralf bonks on the helmet of a fellow Private within the armoury. Having already suited up for action himself, he spent the little time the Marine's had to spare before deployment on helping fellow comrades to get ready with their BDU's. Another Private hands Ralf an Assault Rifle.
"Thanks. Short and controlled bursts with these beauties. Enough to make a tunnel hole right through the Squids faces." Ralf says as he is given the rifle, and continues with giving the Private a pat on the shoulder. "See you down there in the mud."
Seeing how the other Marines within the vicinity were pretty much ready, he grabs his Ammunition bag and slings his Assault Rifle on the back. Ralf continues with heading over to the magazine locker and begins to supply the bag with extra ammunition for various weapons. Ralf had been designated as the Ammunition Carrier for the squad. SAW was the Machine Gun that Ralf would be feed with bullets. He didn't know the person who would be operating it, not that it mattered. The SAW mags were heavy for ammunition, so he had to adjust and plan the amount of mags that was going into the bag. It didn't take much time to do this little chore as he had already done it countless of times in Boot Camp. It helped for the 'Cryo-Lag', as he had christened it, to be busy and focused on work. Instead of being nausea's and prepped for vomit-projectiles. As memories of his time within the Boot-Camp had passed, his mind became curious about whom he will be in squad with. Only way to find out is to find out, simple as that, he thought. As the bag was filled, he made his way to the designated Hangar where Ralf would meet his team. The green Private was both excited and somewhat nervous for the following hours to come.</s>
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<|message|>Edwin Tai
Cpl Edwin TaiUNSC Eternity Abroad
---------------------------------
"Get yer grubby hands off that!" Corporal Tai yelled as he leaned across one of the many tables in the ready-room, "You know how fucking hot that shit burns? It'd go right through the deck and out the bottom of the ship in a minute flat and their ain't nothing damage control could do to stop it, it even burns without oxygen so spacing a deck would be useless and your sorry ass would be stuck in the room with all this shit you caused going on!" Tai yelled as he grabbed his only thermite grenade from the Private at his front. With a flick of the wrist Tai sent the grenade spinning into the air, the distraught look on the Private's face grew as Tai seemed to miss catching the grenade and it struck the floor with a thud. For a moment all those around him were silent, and even a pin drop could have been heard in their ready room. Then Tai began laughing.
Banging an open palm on the table Tai would laugh as the Marines around him seemed to awkwardly shuffle in place and begin to go back to preparing for their imminent drop, "Don't worry about it, that shit wouldn't go off unless I really wanted it to." he'd reassure the now wide-eyed private in front of him before retrieving the grenade and placing it in a vest pocket.
Not waiting for the Privates response, Tai turned to a locker on the wall that read "CPL TAI". With a few button presses and fingerprint the locker unlocked with a click and Tai gave it a kick causing the door to slowly swing open. He reached inside and grabbed the rest of his armor and a few other small belongings before heading down the hall of the ready-room to the armory at the far side.
"Name and serial number, hand on the scanner." the voice of the armorer beckoned to him even before he had really reached the armory window.
"Tai, Edwin M35886-21M35-13257-AA/S." Tai stated as he placed his hand on the scanner. The armored seemed to mumble at a display that Tai couldn't read and moved with a bit of a purpose as he disappeared into the depths of the armory. After nearly three minutes of waiting Tai began to hear what sounded like an unusually laden cart being moved through a tight space, the incessant clatter of a nut that wasn't quite snug and the ever so subtle clanging of metal hitting metal when it wasn't supposed to gave way to the armored returning witha cart full of goodies.
"MA5B... M6E... One satchel charge... and a good old M41 with six rockets... Just what the fuck do you do again?" the armorer asked in his monotone voice that made him seem as uninterested as could be.
"Anti-armor." Tai replied as he adjusted the strap on the M41 and loaded to of the six rockets into the chambers. Ensuring his rocket launcher was on safe he slung it over his back and took the M6E, loading a magazine and checking its safety again he shoved it into the holster at his right thigh and reached for the satchel whcih he attached to the back of his armor at the belt line a little offset as to allow him to sit comfortably. He grabbed the MA5B and loaded a magazine before placing it back on the table.
"The rest of them." the armorer said as he placed a few stacks of magazines on the windows counter.
"Appreciate it." he said as he began stuffing the magazines into their respective pouches. Rifle in hand, M41 on his back, and feeling over a hundred pounds heavier, Tai made his way to the hangar that had been designated as his teams departure point with a smile on his face. Nothing made him feel safer than high explosives.</s>
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<|description|>Roland Kertesz
AGE: 20
GENDER: Male
HOMEWORLD/HOME REGION: Reach (Highland Mountains, Ütközet Province, Viery Territory)
RANK: Private First Class (E-2)
ROLE: Rifleman
SERVICE NUMBER: 09361-45122-RK
EXPERIENCE: Enlisted in UNSCMC on 11/11/2524. Graduated BCT at Military Reservation 01478-B on 2/10/2525. Completed SOI and was assigned to first duty post with 1st Bn, 12th Marine Rgt. Awaiting transfer for Harvest counteroffensive.
BIOGRAPHY: Roland was born on 11/10/2506 in the Highland Mountains on Reach. Born to parents and, as a whole, a community of kiva-dwellers that were all woodcutters and miners. His childhood was mostly spent at the community primary school and hunting Moa. His interest was always fixated on the exploits of the UNSC and CMA against the likes of insurrectionists. His fascination continued well into his teenage years, and through speaking to veterans, local militia and UNSC forces, and a recruiter, was sworn in only a day after his 18th birthday.
He was shipped promptly to Military Reservation 01478-B only a couple hundred miles from his home. The base, nicknamed Painland, served as the base which he endured basic combat training (BCT), and the subsequent School of Infantry (SOI). His assignment yet again saw him stationed close by, with his first and only duty post so far being with the 1st Battalion, 12th Marine Regiment. He has since received orders to prepare for a transfer for the Harvest counteroffensive.
PERSONALITY: Roland is best described as somewhere between introverted and extroverted. This is due to his ability to be reclusive yet the next day making small talk with every person he comes across. But he is best known for this small talk, and that he could talk for days on end if only someone cared to listen, to the delight of some but the scorn of most.
His own sense of humor is as one would expect. He of course enjoys cracking the occasional joke or mocking someone in jest, along with palpable sarcasm present when answering questions.
APPEARANCE:
5'10" height, 162 lbs weight
GEAR:
MA5B Individual Combat Weapons System (ICWS)
M6G Personal Defense Weapons System (PDWS)
UNSC-issue Personal Fighting Knife
UNSC Battle Dress Uniform
Many MA5B Magazines
Many M6G Magazines
Miscellaneous kit
RELATIONS:
WIP</s>
<|message|>Connor "Conn" M. Webley
Lance Corporal Connor Webley and Sergeant Sofia Vargas
"Y'know." Connor began, leaning up against the cryo pod that had, up until a few hours ago, housed him. "This ship is never fuckin' quiet, but it's real goddamn loud today."
"You think it has something to with the fact that thousands of soldiers are all beginning to prepare for deployment?" Sofia retorted, sarcastically. She, unlike her Corpsman, was already in her BDU. She was composed, well-kempt, not at all like Webley. Connor could not look messier if he were trying.
"Look, I'm not asking for them to be quiet, I'm just wondering if they coul-" He was interrupted by the sound of a crate being dropped, followed by shouting. Connor rolled his eyes, stood up, and walked past the rows of empty cryo pods, to the room's entrance. Then, he shouted. "I'm just wondering if any of these Jarheads could use their fucking inside voices!"
"Connor, do you ever shut up?"
"Gee, I dunno Sarge, do you ever manage to get the stick out of your ass?"
"Go get your BDU and your gear, meet me in the Hangar."
"Where's everyone else?"
"Hopefully headed to the Hangar, too. We leave in less than an hour."
"Oh boy. I'm ever-so-excited to go and die for a lifeless rock."
"You're from ED-2. Where's your Outtie pride and solidarity?"
"I just think it's stupid to try and recapture a planet we can't live on when there're other Colonies that need defending."
"Careful with that shit, Webley. You never know when the spooks are listening."
"Spooky."
"Ha. That's real funny." Vargas pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Go get your shit together, Conn." To her surprise, the Corpsman actually started moving.
"Whatever you say, Sarge."</s>
<|message|>Ralf Thann
Private Ralf Thann
"That ought to do it." A rather hollow bang emits when Ralf bonks on the helmet of a fellow Private within the armoury. Having already suited up for action himself, he spent the little time the Marine's had to spare before deployment on helping fellow comrades to get ready with their BDU's. Another Private hands Ralf an Assault Rifle.
"Thanks. Short and controlled bursts with these beauties. Enough to make a tunnel hole right through the Squids faces." Ralf says as he is given the rifle, and continues with giving the Private a pat on the shoulder. "See you down there in the mud."
Seeing how the other Marines within the vicinity were pretty much ready, he grabs his Ammunition bag and slings his Assault Rifle on the back. Ralf continues with heading over to the magazine locker and begins to supply the bag with extra ammunition for various weapons. Ralf had been designated as the Ammunition Carrier for the squad. SAW was the Machine Gun that Ralf would be feed with bullets. He didn't know the person who would be operating it, not that it mattered. The SAW mags were heavy for ammunition, so he had to adjust and plan the amount of mags that was going into the bag. It didn't take much time to do this little chore as he had already done it countless of times in Boot Camp. It helped for the 'Cryo-Lag', as he had christened it, to be busy and focused on work. Instead of being nausea's and prepped for vomit-projectiles. As memories of his time within the Boot-Camp had passed, his mind became curious about whom he will be in squad with. Only way to find out is to find out, simple as that, he thought. As the bag was filled, he made his way to the designated Hangar where Ralf would meet his team. The green Private was both excited and somewhat nervous for the following hours to come.</s>
<|message|>Edwin Tai
Cpl Edwin TaiUNSC Eternity Abroad
---------------------------------
"Get yer grubby hands off that!" Corporal Tai yelled as he leaned across one of the many tables in the ready-room, "You know how fucking hot that shit burns? It'd go right through the deck and out the bottom of the ship in a minute flat and their ain't nothing damage control could do to stop it, it even burns without oxygen so spacing a deck would be useless and your sorry ass would be stuck in the room with all this shit you caused going on!" Tai yelled as he grabbed his only thermite grenade from the Private at his front. With a flick of the wrist Tai sent the grenade spinning into the air, the distraught look on the Private's face grew as Tai seemed to miss catching the grenade and it struck the floor with a thud. For a moment all those around him were silent, and even a pin drop could have been heard in their ready room. Then Tai began laughing.
Banging an open palm on the table Tai would laugh as the Marines around him seemed to awkwardly shuffle in place and begin to go back to preparing for their imminent drop, "Don't worry about it, that shit wouldn't go off unless I really wanted it to." he'd reassure the now wide-eyed private in front of him before retrieving the grenade and placing it in a vest pocket.
Not waiting for the Privates response, Tai turned to a locker on the wall that read "CPL TAI". With a few button presses and fingerprint the locker unlocked with a click and Tai gave it a kick causing the door to slowly swing open. He reached inside and grabbed the rest of his armor and a few other small belongings before heading down the hall of the ready-room to the armory at the far side.
"Name and serial number, hand on the scanner." the voice of the armorer beckoned to him even before he had really reached the armory window.
"Tai, Edwin M35886-21M35-13257-AA/S." Tai stated as he placed his hand on the scanner. The armored seemed to mumble at a display that Tai couldn't read and moved with a bit of a purpose as he disappeared into the depths of the armory. After nearly three minutes of waiting Tai began to hear what sounded like an unusually laden cart being moved through a tight space, the incessant clatter of a nut that wasn't quite snug and the ever so subtle clanging of metal hitting metal when it wasn't supposed to gave way to the armored returning witha cart full of goodies.
"MA5B... M6E... One satchel charge... and a good old M41 with six rockets... Just what the fuck do you do again?" the armorer asked in his monotone voice that made him seem as uninterested as could be.
"Anti-armor." Tai replied as he adjusted the strap on the M41 and loaded to of the six rockets into the chambers. Ensuring his rocket launcher was on safe he slung it over his back and took the M6E, loading a magazine and checking its safety again he shoved it into the holster at his right thigh and reached for the satchel whcih he attached to the back of his armor at the belt line a little offset as to allow him to sit comfortably. He grabbed the MA5B and loaded a magazine before placing it back on the table.
"The rest of them." the armorer said as he placed a few stacks of magazines on the windows counter.
"Appreciate it." he said as he began stuffing the magazines into their respective pouches. Rifle in hand, M41 on his back, and feeling over a hundred pounds heavier, Tai made his way to the hangar that had been designated as his teams departure point with a smile on his face. Nothing made him feel safer than high explosives.</s>
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<|message|>Roland Kertesz
Private First Class Roland Kertesz
UNSC Eternity Abroad
0645 hrs
March 3rd, 2526
---
"Goddamn." Roland muttered coldly and quietly as he ambled around, BDU strapped up and on, with the chest plate's straps still hanging loose and his helmet fastened by its chinstrap to his battle belt. "Need fuckin' earplugs to even walk around in here." He said, louder this time, not that it could be effectively heard over the din. He stood near the assembly area where the Marines would organize by company, and then into platoons to board their Pelicans.
He glanced around. No gas here, no gas there, open flight deck and a couple engineers on their smoke break nearby. He took the answer to his silent question and tugged at a plastic carton tucked into a pouch secured behind his chest plate. Once flicked open, he retrieved a rather worn down butane lighter and a good ol' Lucky Strikes. Popping it between his lips, he flicked at the lighter's striker until it produced a flame. He shielded his hands over the flame and held it to the death-stick, the end glowing a volcanic red.
With a quiet click he stowed the lighter and then the carton, and placed one hand upon the cigarette, grasping it between his index and middle finger, and using his other hand to idly tug at the balaclava which was pulled down and ruffled around his neck. His MA5 swung idly at his hip, the mag well empty, and his M6 was in its holster but not secure.
Seemed he was early, he mused. Briefing didn't start for another 15 minutes, as his combat-proof watch fastened over his sleeve on his right arm demonstrated. So he glanced around, observing the armor which he'd known so well, studying over the details again. His name was neatly stenciled on the front of his chest plate and the back, and on his helmet. He wore two pairs of tags as standard. Around his neck, a pair with silencers clearly demonstrated his name, rank, blood type, religious preference, and gas mask size, as was standard. An identical set was secured into his shoes. He hated to have known what it was all for. Printed in a uniform fashion on his left pauldron was his blood type, AB+, in large black letters. The opposing pauldron housed a single stripe, the mark of a PFC.
And it soon bored him even more. He finally ambled up to the rows of folding chairs that doubled as a briefing and assembly area. There were at least enough chairs present for an entire company. And each and every row was sectioned off by platoon and then subdivided into squads. Finding his squad's area, he lowered himself into the seat and pulled his chestplate tight, glancing at his watch as he snuffed the now entirely smoked cigarette, disposing of the butt. 10 til briefing. He leaned back and waited.</s>
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<|description|>Fell Rainer
Alias: Rainer or Killer Orca
Age: 17
Race: Half human half killer whale fishamn
Position: Shipwright/Swordsman
Bounty: 500,000
Appearance:
Rainers fishman traits are his black leather like skin on his arms, legs, and back as well as his retracted dorsal fin on his back. Also when he's completely submerged in water his gills open up, his dorsal fin extends and white spots appear around his eyes that shows he's an Orca fishman.
Personality:
* Ever since he was a child Rainer has always been someone who went with the flow. If he was hungry he'd eat. If he was tired he'd sleep. And if someone dragged him into a situation he'd roll along with it.
* Rainer's biggest weakness is his simple mindedness. He's bad at creating complex plans and strategies. He acts a lot more with his heart then with his head and to him an issue is either black or white, so when he gets into grey situations he has trouble knowing what to do. This often frustrates him and makes him have a harder time thinking straight.
* Rainer is extremely shy about his fishman heritage and tries to hide it the best he can, to the point where he once disobeyed a direct order from his former captain in order to hide it, and getting punished as a result.
* Rainer loves the ocean to the point were he see's it as a sort of god and worships it. Rainer actually pities people who have eaten devil fruits, because in his eyes they have lost the greatest gift in this world, being able to enjoy swimming in the ocean.
* Likes: The Ocean and Seafood. Dislikes: Chains and being stuck on land.
Background:
* Rainer was born the child of both a female human and male fishman, however his father disappeared before his birth and his mother dying during childbirth. Living on the port town of Goton, was shunned by everyone in town because of his strange appearance, looking almost exactly like a human but with fish qualities. That coupled with his fishman strength drew a divide between him and with those of his hometown. After seeing that there was nothing keeping him in his hometown at the age of 5 he builds a raft and sets sail. He sailed for months with no direction, minimum supplies, and a boat that would break every couple days only for him to be forced to repair it. However despite 3 months of sailing with no sight of land he grew to love life off land and on the ocean.
* After those three months he finally lands at a random port town called Gemimi where the inhabitants hadn't ever seen fishman and panicked, thinking he was a monster. After fleeing from Gemimi he learns that the island had reported him to the marines for "Attacking Our Town" and that the marines had placed a bounty on him of 500,000 beri (It's low because he didn't actually hurt or kill anyone). Luckily the bounty had no picture and only described him as a "Fishman with black arms and legs. Learning this he begins to cover his arms and legs with plate mail as well as his neck with goggles in order to hide the fact that he's a fishman from humans.
* Now, he goes from port to port working odd jobs and learning a variety of skills, although the two skills he had a knack for were ship repairs and swordsmanship. While travelling and working odd jobs (Mostly ship repairs), he wanders the seas with no real direction, only knowing that he wants to be able to sail the seas he loves a free man.
Abilities:
* Shipwright - Rainer has the ability to repair most any ships and is able to at least do an emergency repair well enough for a boat to be able to float without any problems.
* Blacksmith - On one of Rainers odd jobs, he learned the art of blacksmithing.
* Fast Learner - Rainer has always had a knack for learning things fast, from learning carpentry to learning how to sail.
* Physical Strength - Being part fishman gives him naturally enhanced strength, although not as great as a full fishman strength.
* Great Reflexes - Rainer is very quick to react to things, and that transfers to fighting. His reflexes are great enough to dodge bullets, if only barely.
* Perfect swimmer - Being part fishman gives him incredible underwater swimming ability. Being able to swim as fast as he can run if not faster and even fight with his sword underwater without any difficulty. He can breath underwater and swim 50 mph.
* Sonar - Like a real Killer Whale, Rainer can use sonar underwater as well as hum a low pitch sound that can disorient enemies.
* Fishman Mode! - Just like other fishman, Rainer becomes much stronger when he is underwater. This is shown when his fishman qualities become more visible when under water, from both his dorsal fin opening and white spots appearing around his eyes. Because of the increased traits Rainer calls this "Fishman Mode!"
Weapons:
* Tansui - The first working katana made by Rainer. The only unique characteristics of it are it's dark blue handle wrappings and blue sheath.
* Metal Gauntlets and Grieves - Metal armor strapped to Rainers legs and arms by leather straps that are hidden under his clothing. Strong enough to parry a blade and cover his whole arms and legs, effectively hiding his fishman features.
* Work Goggles - Just a pair of dark tinted white goggles that Rainer wears when he works on ships as well as when he swims. The reason he wears them when swimming is because they cover his white spots around his eyes.
Techniques:
* Ocean Rain Style - A swordsman style that relies on parrying strikes and only actually attacking once or twice with either powerful and destructive swings or precise and deadly strikes.
+ Drizzle - A swift strike downwards that ultimately trades power for speed.
* Low Hum - Rainer uses his Orca abilities to create a low hum that can disorient people around him if they're in a 5 foot radius.</s>
<|message|>(Birth name) Aria Elizabeth Kingsley (Current name) Miyamoto D. Musashi
"Had no reason to know, my ass. Explain the last few hours. If you had at least left a fricking note we wouldn't have had to waste time raiding a worthless ship! No seriously, they barely had anything worth while!"
On closer look Musahi had several bags tied to her belt. She somehow had the time to get her hands on some poor smucks' wallets. Musashi grumbled while walking away from them. It would appear that the captain and his first mate could keep their limbs... for now...
"This was pretty much a filler part of a story... I hate filler parts of a story... I mean destroying a marine ship was fun, but I at least want something after taking out the disappointing fake..."
Musashi then realized that this would actually effect her.
"Oh, right! We just destroyed a Marine ship that means my bounty will be raised!"
The swordswoman slammed down her fist on her palm in realization. They pretty much declared they were the enemies of the Marines, by attacking, so the ones that had bounties like Musashi would get it raised, while the ones who didn't might get a bounty placed on them. For Known criminal Musashi this was badge of honor, others might not. Well either way Musashi practically shouted out it out in the earshot of the others. The swordswoman started walking down to the front in a slightly better mood when her foot hit a naked tied up man. The difference in their strength caused the bound man to be sent reeling.
"Oh, right you two."
Musashi tilted her head and put her finger on her mouth, before yelling.
"Hey Abbygail, about the two stripped Marines!? Should I cut them up or throw them over the side!?"
There was a surprising lack of a merciful option, unless throwing them over the side meant with their clothes and unbound, but Musashi didn't seem so merciful.</s>
<|message|>Saki Masukita
Saki cussed under her breath, realizing she'd been heard. Deciding it was safer to just reveal herself, she called out. "I'm coming out, don't attack." She put her arms up first to show she was unarmed as she climbed out of the barrel.
Kyy sighs. "They're right. Whether we like it or not, our first priority should be getting away from here. We can worry about them later."</s>
<|message|>Fell Rainer
Rainer sweatdropped at Abbygails comment. "Usually when I'm stressed I just work on a project or go for a swim, but yeah, raining explosives sounds like a good stress reliever." He said as he took a moment to assess the situation.
This wasn't like usual when he was just fighting random pirates or nobody bounty hunters after the "Black Limbed Fishman" who accidentally found him. No, these were the MARINES!! Law enforcement of the sea and most powerful organization in the world to his knowledge. What's worse is that if they recognized him he wouldn't be an anonymous fishman anymore but an ACTUAL wanted criminal. Ugh, having an anonymous bounty was bad enough, having to cover up his whole body all the time was already annoying.
"Maybe after this I can just become a hermit." He mumbled depressed as he moved closer to the edge of the ship, ready to jump off if any of Janet's spears got a little too close for comfort.</s>
<|message|>Janet
Janet
Janet stuffed her remaining spears back into her backpack. A person like her wouldn't understand what that man was talking about, but she've gotten the fact that they weren't traitors, in a way.
"Filler? Story?" The tone of speech from that red-eyed girl was too refined and perculiar for a mere pirate. It was the same familiar demeanor of speech that she'd often heard as a child. "Fancy you wasting your time under those boring storybooks, 'High Lady' Musashi."
Janet finished her sentence with a sarcastic sneer. The corner of her eye caught sight of Saki, "Wait... you're that girl from the Marine Ship..."</s>
<|message|>Abbygail Hennar
"Hold on. Hold on." Abbygail said, making wait a minute gestures with her hands. "Let's not just go cutting people up all willie-nillie. I mean, it's one thing to kill them if they're trying to poke you with their swords, or pencils, or anything else that doesn't belong inside the body, but it's one thing completely different to just stab them while they're naked, and tied up, and their eyes are so wide with fright, they're this close to popping out of their skulls like a pair of rats jumping ship. Swordsman's pride, and all that, I'm assuming." She put her hands on her hips and turned to look at the marines. The men were nervous but hopefully nervous. "We'll get near something, an island with people, or without, probably, and throw them on a life boat."
Lion
"Sure, you can do it that way." The purple haired girl said with a smirk. "But after downing a marine ship, the bounty is going to be pretty high. There's not a place in the world you'll be able to stay without one money grubber or another who'll throw you to the wolves for a piece of you oh so sweet pie." At that, Abbygail shuddered. "Forget that last part. It doesn't work with me." She shrugged. "Well at least nobody can accusing me of not trying."
Right! Right!" Mark said, clasping his hands together. "I'm glad we're all in agreement then. I'm going to hurry on over to the wheel, and angel us somewhere further away from the nearest marine bases, and hopefully we'll be able to get some distance before the marines start looking for us." He nodded happily, paused and when there wasn't a response, turned to his first mate. "As for you, make yourself useful and go get dinner started. I'm sure our pirate friends are hungry now, after destroying a marine ship." He didn't wait for a word before turning and walking away, with Tim, his second mate, pausing just long enough to look at the group and then going down towards the kitchen.
"I'm not going to attack." Abbygail sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose after the newcomer's hands raised out of the barrel. "I am going to question you though. So get ready for that."
Abbygail arched an eyebrow at Janet. "A friend of yours?" She cocked her head in the direction of the newcomer.
"Ladies and gentlemen." Mark's voice rang out from the intercom. "It looks like the marines were a bit faster than I figured they'd be as there seems to be some of ships heading our way. Now, I'm not sure if they're here for us or just responding to the distress call, but I think it would be best for all of you to get below deck. Get some grub in the kitchen or just hang out in your rooms till it's clear. Whatever you do, just don't poke your heads out, because I have no desire to get my head chopped off with the lot of yous!"</s>
<|message|>(Birth name) Aria Elizabeth Kingsley (Current name) Miyamoto D. Musashi
"I was only joking, about the cutting them up part anyway."
Musashi said with a shrug and a wry simile. Though that was cut off short by Janet's mockery. There was just a moment where time froze for Musashi, though she quickly played it off using her years of experience as a criminal known as a murder hobo.
"Aw, thanks for the compliment Janet! Want me to read you a bed time story?"
Musashi teased as she went and looked through some barrels. Lifting the tops up before finding a few empty ones. She walked over to the Marines before shoving a cloth in their mouths then tying a rope around their mouths, gagging them in a scene that was probably from quite a few men and Abbygail's fantasies, which immediately shattered by Musashi violently shoving them into the empty barrels in a reversal of Pop-up Pirates. Pop in Marines! She finished off by sealing the tops and calling it a day. Though she shouted to Rainer.
"Come on only one in five of bounty hunters and Marines are worth worrying over! Though you could get unlucky and meet an admiral! That would suck!"
She grinned as she looked over and saw the newcomers, leaning over Abbygail's shoulder.
"Well, who do we have here?"</s>
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<|message|>Fell Rainer
Rainer sweatdropped at Abbygails graphic example of him being chased around for the rest of his life from bounty hunters. "Come on only one in five of bounty hunters and Marines are worth worrying over!" He heard Musashi say, which gave him a small spark of hope that everything would be ok. "Though you could get unlucky and meet an admiral! That would suck!" She finished.
Rainer fell to the floor in a comicly depressed manner, his soul looking like it was leaving his body. "With my luck I'd probably be hunted by all of them." He said with tears.
After a couple of moments, Rainer shook his head and stood up, pushing thethought away till after they got somewhere safe. He then listened as Mark told them to hide under deck, "Yeah, that'd be a good idea for now." He said before noticing Saki, "Ah, who's this?"</s>
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