NationStates Jolt Archive

Heavy footsteps are heard coming down the Reception Hall of the Ministry of Security. A very large man, walking heavily, quite burdened by his masive size, had entered the building. The little hair he had left was of a white sandy brown color, the equivilent to grey for us, that bordered around his crown in thin wisps. He had murky green eyes enveloped in rolls of fat that must have been eyelids, framed in a rolling and heavily jowled face. The bulbous frame that supported him, currently moving with the aid of two canes, was frocked in a blue pin-stiped mao suit. How could an outfit clash so horridly? Really, Mao suit with Pin stripes? The tailor deserves to be shot.

This was the minister of security. A do-nothing man with an important title, and a paycheck bigger than he was. He had just came back from yet another break, this time from the beaches of Getaliki. Not that he didn't look it, on the contrary, he was burnt crisp to a hue of coffee bean. As if his tedious amount of weight hadn't tipped you to his abused luxury already. That star might not be bright, but it sure did throw off a heck of a lot of UV rays.

Escorting him down the hall are two guards, quite generic looking actually. Ther only real purpose was to ward off the swarm of reporters currently congesting the building. Accusations here, budget cuts there, lack of response every which way. Press conferences intrude upon his time on the beach oh to often, in his thought, while in reality he was never called into question by the press throughout his career. This was actually his first in fifteen somewhat years. He grudgingly moved his frame up a small set of stairs, and stood behind a small podium. Still utilising his canes for support, he looked over the crowd with what could be taken as a grin, and began speaking in a hoarse, wheezing voice.

"Ladies... And, Gentlemen... The ministry, would like to.... Announce to the press... That the security, of our system.... Is not...' At which point he would take a gulping breath in. '-being jepordized."

"IRCSS-APLHA...... Has indeed, been, interacting with vessels from foriegn systems...' A wheeze and a cough 'but with the replacement of more capable officers onboard-"

A crack. A shriek would be heard in the crowd as a reporter from a random news station jerked foward, blood spilling from what remained of thier face, a hole shot clean through thier skull. A few more seconds of silence. Chaos erupted all at once as people scrambled for an exit, the guards running as fast as they could as well. More shots were heard as random people lunged foward and collapsed on the ground, holes blown clean through, arms torn away, and all the gory like. Screaming and shouting as the lobby cleared entirley, except for the invalid that was the Minister, and a lone figure standing in the center of the empty room. Bells were heard ringing on other levels of the building as emergency exits were thrown open in other corridors. All was quiet here.

The Minister was in shock, staring as if a lamb before a butcher, at the assassin, donned as that of an Officer gone to waste. Her chestnut eyes were locked on him, in a glaze, seemingly impartial. With no emotion whatsoever, and as if not really caring actually, she lifted a large arms up and aimed at the minister.

"Corrupt swine... 15000 points."

A snap as a shot was fired, catching the minister in the shoulder, blowing away pounds of him. Another shot, blowing away half the podium, folowed by a dozen more- Catching the minister in the gut, shoulder, and arm, as well as effectivley demolishing much of the podium. He toppled over against the back wall bearing the emblem of the Security Ministry, breathing heavily, gushing. She would walk up to the minister, hopping on top of the small stage, and push the nozle of the arm against his head, right between the eyes.

"Game over..."

And with a loud bang, the minister recieved a new orifice within his head.

----- -----

"This is Leslie Hasmat with Channel 2212. I'm standing outside the Ministry of Security building at the Emulov City Administration Complex. Chaos has erupted here as the Minister of Security, also one of the five Juscte's, was just assasinated. People have been flooding out of the Building and into the streets, as other Buildings in the complex are emptied out as well. As one was quoted earlier saying, "Bed Badgers!" Injured as well as dead are being evac- Oh Aliliah... The building has just burst into flames... The lobby is spewing out an inferno thats- Hold on, We've just gotten word that the body of the Minister has been recovered and the building is currently void of occupance. Wait, what's that? I'm hearing that the assasin was not found in the building- We're being moved away from the area, gah, back to the studio."

Sub-Basement 6, Ministry of Forgein Affairs, Sohi City

"Sir, A report. Apparently the Fodmodmadtolian Minister for Security has been assassinated. This might be an interesting time to offer help, and to plant someone in the region."

"Yes. I concur. Send them a message about, oh, I don't know, wanting to help them or something. Send a agent, instruct them to ID the Assassin, and report back to us. This might be something we could use."

Message to the Fodmodmadtolian Government


We where shocked to here the news about your minister.

In order to aid you in finding the assassin we would like to offer the services of one Kate Jones. You will find she is most competent in tracking down fugitives.

If you agree, she can be on specially charted flight to your country be the end of the day.

Sincerely,
The Ministry of Foreign Affairs,
The Holy Empire of the Water Cooler

Heavily breathing, she came up through the Transit System ventilation, tossing her Blaster to the side. She threw the grate over more, dragging herself out as the next Metroline passed swiftly underneath. Her Officers uniform was now tattered and slightly charred, that bomb hadn't been easy to set, and she just barley escaped through the Metro Station in the lower levels of the Administration Complex. She stood up, shaking off the muck and dust, looking up into the alley she had emerged. Strutting up the blaster, she leaned on it heavily, staring at the sign above.

'InterRegional Launch Port- Hesphastus'

She threw back her head, her platinum red hair flecking dirt behind her. Taking her hand of once fine manicured nails, she went to wiping her brow of sweat. Moving now to heave the Blaster up, she trudged into one of the ports less traveled Terminal Entrances, and towards Inter-Stellar departures.

----- -----

"This is 2212 reporting. Now that the situation at the Emulov Complex has settled down a bit, the site has been completely closed off to everyone. The fires have been extinguished and the structural failures have been contained. At the moment the Arch'Juscte is holding a memorium ceremony at the citys East Temple by the K. Medical building and Port Hesphastus. She will continue this for the next week accompanied by a fast for the fallen Juscte, pronounced Joo-stay for those laymen. As for who is responsible for the incident, the assailant is still unknown due to the governments recent opposition to security cameras, and it would be impossible to identify them without their barcode. The system which keeps track of those passing through the building by checking barcodes was being commisioned at the time a Security Administrator, Officer Divit, who is thought to be a victim of this tradgedy. The assailant is presumed armed, and extremeley dangerous, and located somewhere within the city. Citisens are suggested to stay indoors if possible."

----- -----

"Minister Yishi-"

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF THE THIRD MOON CAN YOU WANT! GET THE FLYING KATILINA OUT OF MY OFFICE, NOW!" And a stapler would be sent flying across into the doorway where the Clerk had appeared, blasting them in the face.

Obviously this was a bit much for Yishi, head of the Ministry of Defence. Followers of the faith have been approaching her for consolations, as were her duties as a Juscte. Politicians threw her in their crosshairs for neglecting the situation at hand, as were the consequences of being a Minister. Either way, the situation was not well at all. A piece of the Administrative complex had been blown away, a renogade was on the loose, all coupled with a deceased Juscte, Minister, whichever way it was bad.

She ran her fingers over her black hair, tidily done up in a bun with a plaited braid falling from it. She closed her eyes, letting her hues of gold green rest for a moment, as she rest a smooth cheek on her curled hand, letting her elbow fall onto her walnut coloured desk.

"Sarah, when is the new Sarah OS update coming out?"

"That's really last on your priority list at the moment."

"Meh. I'm trying not to think about it."

"Well, of the hundreds of transmissions that are clogging the server, which would you like to view first?"

"Filter out any sent from the Utilatarian Political Party, anything with the key words Religion, Faith, or Pray, and anyone on the press list. Put them into a seperate folder for now."

"Processing. One minute remaining. Transfering task One, Processing. Task two- Task Three, keyword search, Processing. Tasks performed."

She would open her eyes, right herself in her chair and glance at the monitor, leaning back to get comfortable. "What do we have left... Save Bytes on your- FILTER THE DAMNED SPAM!"

"Done"

"Ministry of the State... Ministry of the State... Correctional Precinct 43... Military police... Ministry of the State... The Water Cooler. Sarah, what's The Water Cooler?"

"I believe it's a very large country in the Sol System."

"Let's see the message then."

We where shocked to here the news about your minister.

In order to aid you in finding the assassin we would like to offer the services of one Kate Jones. You will find she is most competent in tracking down fugitives.

If you agree, she can be on specially charted flight to your country be the end of the day.

Sincerely,
The Ministry of Foreign Affairs,
The Holy Empire of the Water Cooler


Why not... Sarah, prepare a message.


The Ministry of Foreign Affairs
The Holy Empire of the Water Cooler

We would be most gracious for your help, as we lack any specialised personel in this field as to our lack of needing any. As you might know we have no prisons, only Correctional Offices, and the pricincts operational handle only petty offenses. A small high security facility is under construction, but I need not trouble you with our domestic affairs.

We thank you, and accept the offer. Although we wish you goodluck getting an overnight transport to the Epsilon Eridani system without the use of a stargate.

-Ministry of Defence; Minister Yishi
-Aliliah'Ish Juscte; Juscte Yishi

-Ministry of Defence; Clerk Uliusini


"Send this message as a reply. Log out for the day, I need a nap..."




OOC: This thing is open to anyone who's willing to allow a stow-away on board one of their trading vessels, and anyone else really. Sank you Water Cooler. Background information on the assasin and why this was executed can be found here (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=155050). Etc Etc Etc.

Captain Wiltern drummed his fingers on his immitation-wood desk, grumbling about his lazy crew that took too long to unload supplies. There sat the CTV Sparrow, one of Crsyindom's largest and most reliable trading vessels, stuck on Fodmodmadtol's Dock 3 because of incompetent workers. With a tired look, he sprang up and marched out to the hall surrounding the Captain's quarters.

A tall man who wore a look of one who had gone through wars and hell itself. His eyes, a saddened grey, were circled by deep purple lines. His hair, an indentical grey, was thinning beneath his regiment cap. A pure white suit, littered with medals and rank badges, would give Captain Wiltern the impression that he had just fell into a pile of dirty snow.

On his way to the downstairs docking level, he met (or nearly knocked over) the port official.

" 'Sa good thing you get no taxes or charges for docking here, Captain!" The port official joked.

Captain Wiltern only grumbled.

"Well, the boys are finally finished. I'd better get off, I don't want to be heading off into space." The official shivered. "Gives me the heebie-jeebies."

"You'd get used to it."

He turned on his heel, and instead of going back to his room, he headed for the cockpit. The cockpit room was large, then again the whole ship was. He flipped on a few switches from the large board in the center and sat down, two lesser ranked pilots at his side.

"Give me a status on the ship's inventory." The Captain called out to a passing woman with a clipboard.

"500 crates of automobile parts unloaded, total inventory, 500." She spat out in a monotone voice.

He nodded. Turning to the two men beside him, he sighed as if in for another long day.

"Prepare for takeoff."

Sub-Basement 6, Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Sohi City

"Err...Sir, this is actually very embarrassing. You see, I got my intelligence reports mixed up. It appears Fodmodmadtol, well, it appears, they aren't on earth."

"I see. That's going to pose a problem, logistics wise. What are our capabilities, space wise?"

The Younger agent looked at his handheld.

"Err, aside from our Satellites, nothing."

"Darn. But still...Hmm"

The older agent closed his eyes in thought. He then opened his eyes and reached for a gun.

"You see, that's the thing. You failed."

Before the other agent could react, he squeezed off two shots, which both landed in his upper cranium region. Watching as the fountain of blood coated the raw cement wall, he picked up a phone.

"Yes. I will need another. Send a cleaning crew at once. Send a message to Fodmodmadtol asking for a transport."

Message to Fodmodmadtol


Dear Minister Yishi,

We regret to inform you that we are currently a nation that has little or no space fearing capabilities. As such we would be unable to make it to your planet.

As such we must withdraw our offer of support, unless some transport arragnements can be made.


Sincerely,
The Ministry of Foreign Affairs,
The Holy Empire of the Water Cooler

-Hesphastus

The Port Official slumped against the Bulkhead of the humming ship. His head had been effectivley obliterated, the blast sending him with an eerie splat against the hull. His crisp blue uniform now coated in a gushing fountain of his blood pouring from various holes blown through his chest and gut, but more noticeably from between his shoulders. A beautiful red coat had been applied to the ship in a splatter, reflecting the light darkly, seemingly black. She stepped aside, turning around to face a slacking dock worker coming back from loading a final crate. He was met with a crack as a hole was punched thrugh his shoulder, sending him spinning into a steam vent, effectiveley broiling his person.

The engines would hum a bit louder as the vessel readied for takeoff. Shooting out the Bar-Scan at the dock entrance might be messy, but there's no room for thinking at the moment. The ringing of the alarm was dulled by the random limb of a passerby. She quickly threw open a cargo bulkhead that had yet to be sealed, and jumped inside among the many crates. The door hissed behind her as it closed, clicking as its latches locked. Flinging a tarp from covering a crate, she stared into the flag of Crsyindom stamped onto its lid.

-Ministry of Security

"Minister, may I interupt your for a-" A keyboard flying past the head of the Clerk would be a signal that no, you may not interupt her at the moment. "Minister! We've had a reply from the ones offering-" A duck below a flying mug -"the ones offering aid regarding the-" This time a full sized monitor came soaring through the door, catching the Clerk by the ear "MINISTER, WATER COOLER REPLIED!"

"Your POINT?"

"They need transportation, your All Exalted Annoyance."

"Meh, contact one of the IRC stations, tell em to dispatch a De class for transport. So now unless you would like a PC to replace your head, I'd advise you to leave my office." Not another word was needed on that subject.


The Ministry of Foreign Affairs
The Holy Empire of the Water Cooler

Transportation is readily available and within range. You shall be recieved in the following evening at best.

-Ministry of Defence; Minister Yishi
-Aliliah'Ish Juscte; Juscte Yishi

-Ministry of Defence; Clerk Uliusini


-Yaoi Yuri


Attention Station Aplha-

By order of the Minister of Defence, you are to dispatch a De-Class vessel to the following coordinates, accompanied in this message, and recieve one, Kate Jones. You are to treat her as a Diplomat, and return her to the Ministry of Defence secondary office in the K. Medical Coumpound.

This is to regards of the recent Massacre at the Ministry.

Ministry of Defence


A sobbing Nokona was found slumped over her PC as she read this message. She let her rust tinged tressess cover her face and she slumped farther into her arms. Her usually bright Sea Green eyes were full of tears at the moment, small streams trickling over her mocha cheek. "I wanted Bed Badger tonight...Klent, WHY, just WHY!"

Klent was quite not-really-giving-a-damn at the moment. He blew starw like bangs of orange from his forehead to let his granite eyes flash over the monitor once more. "Why did the station re-direct this to us...? Sarah... Just, get us there..."

A small glance around the vessel to make sure the four guards and Ludvic haven't killed themselves out of bordedom, and the De-class set off.

Captain Wiltern reached an arthritis-infected finger to the intercom buzzer. There was an intercom that connected each room in the ship with the cockpit. The ship looked a little like a cruiseliner, only without an open deck and a flat bottom.

"Engine room, status check." He said mechanically, voice trained in the usage of those words.
A short buzzing noise was heard after the captain lifted his finger. Then a younger, staticy voice was heard.

"Engine room in perfect order."

Captain Wiltern pressed the button again.

"Cargo bay, status check." Then again, the buzz.

"Cargo bay..perfect order, sir."

"That's all the rooms then. I just can't help feeling that..something's wrong." Wiltern stated, watching a spider's web in the corner, as if seeing through some net they had cast over his eyes.

The two officers next to him eyed him, guessing it was just his mind, then began pressing the dials to take-off. A loud roaring sound blasted through the corridors of the ship, then slowed to a droaning hum. Every stomach lurched as it was thrown upward then pelted out of the Fodmodmadtol and Montelukast atmosphere, heading for the Crsyindom NSP (National Space Program) boarding ship orbiting in space.

A dark shape, roughly human but honestly undeterminable in the near pitch blackness of the hold, stepped out from behind a stack of crates. The assassin could feel a strange presence behind her...

A voice bubbled out of the black haze. "Suprise. You're not really an assassin, are you?"

She could feel a smirk behind her, and if she dared to turn around, would find one glinting in the dimness.

"But you've got spirit, I like that. We like that."

As she voice caught her full attention, she boredly turned around to face whoever this was with a blaster pointed straight at them, only to realise she couldn't see them. Her pupils could focus only so far in the pitch black. Her voice now a bit hoarse, she croaked out.

"Who are you, and where are you, and what do you know... Give me a good reason why I don't just riddle this cargo hold full of shells..."

She stumbled back among the crates, tripping slightly over a canvas cover tossed haphazardly on the floor. Her head tilted this way and that, trying to catch a hint of where ever this might be. She stood straight up catching a glint of something to her side, and fired randomly spewing out shells among the crates. Being the mutlitasler that she was, she also managed to spew out a few random bits of profanity.

"Serickin altuitia! Show yourself grytchuian!"

She threw her back against a bulkhead, leering into the darkness, blaster poised.

A grip like a vice clamped down on her wrist and twisted it, not enough to hurt, but just enough to make firing the blaster much harder.

"And so easily excited, too." The voice whispered in her ear. "But you misunderstand. I'm not here to hurt you, the people I work for want you to stay alive."

To the left of her, something shimmered and the figure disengaged it's meld with the suffocatng darkness around them. A man...more a boy, he couldn't be older than twenty-five or so, with brown hair and the striking features of a soldier in his prime appeared before her.

"You see," he continued, "we support the weeding out of corruption, the elimination of scum who think they can step all over someone else. Heck, there could be a spot for you, it's a very lucrative offer, you'll see."

The grip on her wrist relaxed, and the soldier broke out into a grin.

"It'd be nice to know what those curses were, sounded pretty harsh, you know."

Breathing was a bit laboured now. She let the blaster fall from her grip and took to rub her wrist quickly. Relaxing a bit she glanced back and forth from the two figures. Obviously they had an advnatage over her in terms of strength. First time she had felt so much as an ache caused by someone else.. She looked to the one that had grabbed her, but with a look of admiration rather than fear. Fear had left her when the Minister had left the living realm. She quickly looked down to her wrist.

"I said.. Go choke in the rings.. But this sounds as if there will be blood shed, you have my attention."

A grin broke out, and she would look up to both of them with smiling eyes.

"So your people.. Are who.."

((Oh, my mistake, I guess I made it sound as if there was more than one person there. There is only one.))

"Go choke in the rings." The soldier laughed quietly. "I sort of like it. In any case...bloodshed...yes, we kill people. Lots of people..." He looked away for a split second before turning his blue eyes back to her. "I'm part of a government agency, the Cyberutopian SpecOps Insertion, Extraction, and Termination Team, more commondly known as the Agents. Sometimes we're the ones creating the mess, other times we clean it up. It takes a lot of effort, no...that's putting it too nicely. It consumes your life, turns you into a shadow that does great things but is never recognized. Makes you an outsider."

He took a breath and leaned against the same bulkhead as the woman was, and took a chance to look her over the best he could in the darkness.

"But anything is better than letting people crush other people's dreams, take everything they ever wanted and hold it just before their nose, just out of reach." He grinned maliciously. "Taunting is a horrible thing, gives people a reason to kill you. But it's not like we can help them all, the best you can do is aim for the big guys, set an example." He paused and looked over at her again. "That sounds really sappy, doesn't it?"

"Sappy would be an understatement.."

She spat randomly. Blood was still dripping about her, and trickling into her mouth. Maybe it was a bit much to gnaw at that one guys throat.

"The allure of someone suffocating in the expanse of space had never evaded me.. And with a backdrop of ice and rock that could slice you to pieces, it just seemed a bit poetic.."

She would grin stupidly and laugh a bit.

"Speaking of taunting, imagine that. Floating there.. staring down towards a planet which can sustain your life.. Right in front of you, and no way to reach it."

She cocked her head to the side, eyeing whoever was resting beside her. As noble as whatever this was sounded, it was bloody. That was all she was looking for. The Assasination might have been out of her own greed, but excitement was her driving force now. And if she took out a few pricks along the way who were screwing some people over, it's win win. Well, lose for the prick.

"As sappy as you make it sound.. I can't resist the excitment you're offering.. The name was Divit. Call me Ishmal."

The figure next to her shuddered a bit at her analogy in silence.

After a few moments of thought, he continued. "Don't worry, I'm probably the only one you'll ever hear something like that from. If it's excitement you're looking for, we can certainly provide it. Still, continued bloodlust is, all things considered, unhealthy. You can just call me by the only name I retain; Agent Three. Alright, Ishmal, I'd like to hear your story behind all of this."

"Story behind the Massacre? I was never great at telling stories really."

She pursed her lips, searching for the correct words to use. She spread out her hand and began counting off fingers.

"Well let's see. One little piggy went to market. One little piggy stayed home. One little piggy had roast beef. One little piggy had none. This little piggy cried 'Wee wee wee,' all the way home."

She pursed her lips again, then smiled. Seemingly content with her explanation.

The Agent stared over at her for a second before turning his gaze into the flat blackness in front of them. "I know I should get the whole slightly cynical analogy thing...but I don't."

She spread out her hand again.

"The country was doing very well economically recently. One little piggy went to market." She ticked off a finger.

"Private bussiness flourished, and they got a bit cocky. A few large corporations tryed to seize control of Branches in the ministry. A few little piggies stayed home." She ticked off another finger.

"The Minister of Security himself, put simply, he hi-jacked the gravy train. One little piggy had roast beef." Yet another.

"No one else could profit. One little piggy had none." Yet another.

"And one little piggy cried 'Wee wee wee.' In other words, me."

She squinted a bit, corssing her arms.

"You sure know how to ruin something poetic, ya' know that? That's putting it as simply as I can, yet it still manages to ruin the analogy."

The man sighed heavily. "Sorry. I was thinking about my plans once this thing stops. But even thought I ruined it, it's still clever."

He grinned a little at himself.

"Yeah, clever...jeez, you really tore those two guys in here apart. I could smell the blood from all the way in the back." He murmured.

Dull thuds receded throughout the intricate hallways, silencing for a brief second or two before starting up again.

A short, husky man that could be seen recognized by his stomach rounding the corner and the rest of him running to catch up. The buttons on his navy jacket were straining themselves to stay attached as he angrily hoofed to the cargo bay. He ran bulbous, pink fingers through disappearing locks of auburn hair, his beady, black eyes just brimming with impatience.

"Some promotion this was..General of Safety my ass..just a custodian with dental..."

He continued this belligerent stance all the way up until he hit the bay lock-door. With the nasty spits about him deserving so much better, it seemed the door would open for him. Alas, he still needed a code and retinal scan, as he so delightfully punched in and stood back to watch the door break in half vertically and pull away.

His hand gripped his hand gun (which was, of course, too small).

"Hello?"

First mistake.

The Agent's head shot immediately up, and he disappeared in a blur.

A close whisper reached Ishmal's ear. "Find the shadows, he'll be easy to evade."

"Evade?"

She almost burst out laughing, but managed to stiffle it and just widen her smile. A chesire smile. She hopped into the cargo bays back to where the lights touch had not reached. A shock caught her thoughts though. She twirled on toe and crouched, splayed her fingers on the decking. Her blaster was still at the door.

His senses kicked, a peripheral, vague awareness of his current situation.

"Show yourself!" He whipped his gun around threateningly, pulling the trigger to spray a warning shot.

Safety was on.

((Lol, poor guy.))

A throwing knife flashed out of the darkness and buried itself inside the barrel of the gun. The fat man felt movement behind him, followed by the chill of a muzzle against the base of his skull.

"Don't make a move unless you enjoy the feeling of lead in your brain." A voice hissed.

((Haha, yeah, should have checked his gun first.))

He flinched, dropping his useless gun, deterred from the deadly accuracy of this unseen criminal.

His breath came out in bursts of short, uneasy hisses.

"W..ho..What are you doing here?"

He tried his best to keep dignity in those frail words.

A squeel of excitement erupted from her. She trapsed foward expectantly, giggling to the brim.

"So what are ya' gonna do with 'em?"

She scooped up her blaster and took a peek outside into the corridor.

"Dosen't seem to be anyone else comin' so it wouldn't matter if it was a bit loud, would it?"

"Simple." Agent Three said in low tones. "We'll keep him as a hostage in case we're discovered on board, he'll buy us time as a hostage so we can kill everyone before they can contact anyone. If we're not discovered, we'll be long gone by the time anyone notices him missing. So...nighty-night."

There was the dull sound of metal on flesh and bone as the Agent casually pistol whipped him.

"I don't see the sense in simply killing people if you can use them to kill a whole lot more people." He told her with a shrug.

Positivley estatic. She couldn't help but adore this Agent Three. She scooped up her blaster and turned on heel to Agent Three.

"Where to, eh? Cockpit? Private quarters?"

She bent over and flicked the large one on his nose.

"Since you got to clock this one though, I get to kill the first."

"It's always easier to wait for your enemy's move, without having to chance how well you can predict an adversary." The Agent said with a wry smile. "But I will grant you the next kill. We're going to hit communications first, if we have to, though."

"Captain, we've sent the G.O.S down into the cargo bay."

...

"Captain?"

The words of the Commander dully resounded inside the captain's mind. They were nearing one of Crsyindom's NSP boarding ships. Here they would refuel, check stock, check around the ship, and restock their inventory with NSP information technology.

His eyes glazed over, glaring at the vast repetitiveness of space.

"60 minutes until landing. Release Engine number 3, power to 7."

The Agent groaned as he felt the familiar shift in motion. "Damnit, we're going to dock soon. That means they'll be checking everything out, and we'll have to move sooner than I thought. They shouldn't be too hard. How many shots have you got in that weapon of yours?

"Fifty shots per round, four rounds."

She laughed and zipped down her front, peeling open her coat. A few rolls of brass rolled down with loud clicks.

"This thing is a real monster though. Now let's say we go stop this ship from landing?"

The Agent nodded, hefting up his unconscious captive with one arm. He placed his elbow on the man's shoulder to steady his aim and the pistol straight out in front of him.

"Good, just watch where you're shooting. We still have to fly this thing when we're done. Stay behind me, and when I drop our friend here, let the bullets fly. Got it?" He asked, and began to move towards the bow of the ship without waiting for an answer.

"40 minutes left until we board NSP main dock, sir."

This came acknowledged by a solitary grunt.

A few more minutes of silent flying came and went.

"Sir?"

"What?"

"Hasn't the G.O.S been gone for awhile? Perhaps we should send some people down after him?"

"Alright. Get two privates, armed of course, and send them down. If they aren't back in another 15 minutes-"

"Yes, sir."

-----

"Get your gun out, you'll look like a fool going in."

The private sneered at his comrade.

"I didn't join this crew to be nagged by my mother."

After two indentification tests, the door split open, a private holding his gun parallel to his face on either side.

"Who's ever in there, come out in the order of Captain Wiltern, or we'll be forced to fire!"

Three grinned over at his comrade. "Well, I did say you could have the next kill, so get ready."

He then raised his voice so the two privates could hear him. "No dice, buddy. I've got your friend here with me, and all three of you will be dead if anybody makes a move I don't like. So make it easy and just put down the weapons, ok?"

She began to whistle incoccently. Ishmal took her blaster and forced a strand into the feeder. Taking it up, she cocked it on her shoulder.

"Everybody's going to be dead anyway except for the people on this side of the door. Nice meeting you."

Ishmal then proceeded to spray the pair with a steady hail of fire.

Clink clink clink clink

Turning left down the hall near the cargo bay, you'd see a man, clad in all blue, scrunched up against the wall left of you. Half of his face would be covered by a black helmet and eye protectors. Black vests constricted would constrict themselves around his body as he slowly slinked to the intersecting hallway. Seven men of the same attire crept behind him, waiting for his command.

He raised his index and middle finger, locked them together, and shook them. Half of the men behind him ran forward, turned, and scooted down the hallway.

Clink clink clink clink

This action continued until the hallway beside them led to the cargo bay, in which one of the officers so conveniently threw a smoke flare down.

3..
2..
1..

The flare erupted, as two of the men swung out and raised their guns, automatics, sending a hail of bullets to the receiving end.

The Agent dodged behind a stack of crates to his left as bullets scraped past him and burried themselves in the far bulkheads. A flash grenade bounced around the corner to land at the strange men's feet. Three then flicked the sensor over his left eye until it glowered a deep red that enabled infrared vision, leaned around the corner, and put a double tap into each of the two closest men.

"Ishmal! Are you alright?!" He shouted over the scream of automatic weapons.

Ishmal dove into a recession for a door when the flare burst, pressing herself against the wall. A storm of bullets followed quickly grazing past her by an inch or so. Three had taken cover behind crates in the corridor. Do these people not realise they were in space? While yes she was a bit trigger happy herself, they were just plain haphazard. The flash grenade scorched her vision, forcing her lids closed.

"Three, I'm over here. I can;t see a damned thing though."

She fed another tounge of amunition into her blaster. Her hand came across a small sphere next to the clip though. Her face went blank rather quickly. She waited for a lull in the roar of the weapons.

"Three, I have Saran."

The soldier glanced over at her. "Saran?"

A round of gunfire blew past her, pausing as they proceeded to reload.

"Saran Gas. I had a canaster in case I was outnumbered in the Ministry Complex. It would be sort of Bad if it were to leak, especially by the way of gunfire-"

Another burst and a few shouts resounded.

"Point is this- Do you have a gas mask?"

"Oh!" He almost laughed. "Yeah, I've got a gas mask, but more importantly; do you?"

He pulled out something small and irregular but otherwise unidentifiable in the chaos, and fixed it to his face. A black film quickly encapsulated the rest of his head, and he gave a nod to Ishmal before putting a couple more bullets around the corner.

The corridor was now a bit clouded by the abundance of gunfire. She tore what looked like a doctors mask from her pocket, and strapped it around her mouth and nose. A dozen shells rolled to her feet from the hall, it now lined with holes and empty brass. She held the sphere away from her a bit, twisted it at the orbit, and tossed it down the hall. A loud hiss was heard as it discharged its contents.

When some of the smoke had finally cleared, five figures were sprawled on the ground, four of them twitching violently. The fifth was still, limbs thrown in impossible positions.

Three of the men were lucky to have quicker reactions, gas masks hastily slapped on their face. Two of them were still firing, another kneeled on the ground, staring at the gasses's victims.

As fast as their side of gunfire ceased, it began to rise in volume as reinforcements had arrived. Three men were stationed at either side of the door way as the two from the remaining squad kept their steady rhythm of fire, roll to the side, reload, roll back in.

One of the men at the side popped in eagerly, throwing a grenade to the receiving end.

"That's it. Three, cover me, I'm taking them all out."

"I hear you...shit." He growled through the gas mask.

The grenade bounced next to his foot and he kicked it hard back at his attackers. The grenade shot into the air and ricochetted off the bulkhead above the men to land at their feet. He followed by emptying the last five rounds into his foes, aiming for head or neck shots, which at this range was quite simple. Still, Three was a sniper by nature, and was not the greatest in close-quarters.

Two of the men fell dead, bullets smoking inside their necks. The third rolled to the right, 7 left. A man from the other side ran across, strafing the interior with bullets until he had used a round. Then a man from the left side proceeded to throw a smoke flare while another threw another grenade down the hallway.

With an annoyed shriek, she dove out into the corridor blazenly. She deftly kicked the grenade down the corridor behind her. Also hitching her blaster up pulling back the bolt to set it automatic. She was caught twice in the arm by fire from down the hall, they were really lousy shots.

"You are SO anonying."

She then let loose a rage down the corridor, blasting anything and everythng that moved.

Three men were killed in the outburst, leaving only four. With a desperate cry, two would charge down the hall and let loose their automatics, spraying the cargobay until they were either caught in the foot or neck by a bullet.

The last two threw their guns into the open, stepping in range and holding up their hands.

"Resa! Resa! Surrender!"

Surrender? She blasted the two charging fitfully with a chain of ammo through their middles. As their inards impoloded, and they fell to the ground, only the two with hands raised stood before her. She pursed her lips, aimed at one, and blew his head from his body. The second, she drew her blaster over to, and only blasted his leg away.

"I think the fat one got caught by the saran. So leverage do make I."

The corridor was swamped in thick smoke from the ammo, grenades, and saran combined in one. She shot at the flash bomb still firing fiercly, and sent it to three seperate locations all at once.

"Can we move on now?"

The Agent stepped through the smoke, reloaded, and put the man who's leg was splattered across the floor out of his misery. He then turned slowly to Ishmal and glared at her.

"They had surrendered." He whispered, unable to look at her further.

He spun on his heel and stalked down the corridor, pistol at the ready.

"Saran gas ought to travel through the ship's ventilation system and kill off – or at least subdue – a good portion of the crew soon, unless they do something about it." He murmured quietly to the floor, as if it cared more than the heartless creature following him.

So she couldnt help but feel a little bad. Not for the one's she had killed of couse she didn't, otherwise it wouldn't have been done. But to offend an ally of hers in any way was a strike to her concious. She twitched a little bit, and glanced to the floor litered with various ammo, bulkhead shards, and bodies. Maybe she had taken something a little too far. She looked back up to see Three going on without her, and hurried to catch up.

"Gas Masks on NOW!" Captain Wiltern shouted as loud as he could, volume muffled by his own mask. Even though the cockpit ran on a seperate ventilation system, the danger of leakage was extreme.

The crew members were hard at work beside him, trying to figure out casualities and getting messages to other parts of the ship. Only some rooms had been lucky enough to slap on their masks in time, and even they were at the front portion of the ship. Many if not all of the men in the back of the ship were dead from Saran gas in the ventilation.

Captain Wiltern cupped a hand over one ear and slowly turned off his intercom, the choking and desperate gasps for air on the other end tuned out. He leaned forward on his chair, ears covered and eyes closed.

"Has it really come to this."

Three glanced at a timer he had set up.

"Thirty-six minutes until docking." He told Ishmal while quickening his pace. "I wonder if there's a terminal around here where I could delay that at all."

"Of course there is. This ship runs on El-Net. Everyone runs on El-Net nowadays. Haven't you noticed the quick responses to us? Personel each where a small tracker, if one is disabled, an alert goes out to every terminal onboard. There's a terminal in each room on board. Either El-Net, or massive security camera network. And to be quite honest, I've yet to see a single lens."

She stopped abruptly.

"Get a terminal, you get the Net. Get the net, you get the System. Get the System, you get the Ship."

She peered behind her to a door they just passed, and then glanced back to Three.

"How are your hacking skills? If non-existant, we're better off going straight to the cockpit."

Three grinned devillishly.

"I designed most of the security net for a nation of over two and a half billion. I think I can hack a ship." He said, making for the nearest room. "Never heard of El-Net, though."

"Shouldn't have. It's never left Epsilon Eridani. I would know, I created it. Ministry of Security Uber-Techie."

She sighed a bit.

"Thing has so many damned variables though. So which room?"

He smirked. "Then we have something in common other than killing lots of people. You said every room has a terminal so..."

He raised his gun to cover the door and pressed a button. The door slid open with a subdued hiss, and he walked in, scanning the room intently for threats.

Her head popped in, and the rest of her trotted through the door.

"These are private quarters. I wonder whos."

She glanced around briefly before nodding to a desk in the corner.

"It's a personal PC, but everything's connected. Just hope it dosen't run on anything by Gates.. But excuse me while I rummage through this persons things."

He smirked. "You are excused."

He sat down and booted up the PC. It was easy to get into El-Net initially, but Ishmal was right: there were too many damned variables! His progressed slowed a little, but he found the ship's override soon enough. If he used that, however, they'd be swarmed. He opted to slow the engines some and buy them some more time. The Net asked him for a secondary password. He slipped a small chip into a jack at the back, and the relatively simple password was cracked in a few moments. He reduced the engine output by 70 percent, and the estimated time rapidly rose to one hour and twelve minutes.

You could feel the ship slow with that much of a cut. If this still had a living crew, they'd be scrambling right now. Eep, and what does a scrambling crew do? The sheets Ishmal was digging through were thrown back, and she sat upright looking to Three.

"You need to cut communications."

She tossed a loose sock at him.

He dodged the sock and gave her and almost playful glance. "Ok, but I'll need to sever every comm line in the ship. Otherwise they'll know where we are anyway. Just give me a second."

He retrieved the chip that was plugged into the back of the PC and put in another. A few quick taps on the keyboard and the ship's communications were rapidly flooded with information. Anyone who tried to activate any sort of communications would receive an earful of horrendous white noise, laser transmitters were misaligned, and video feeds were garbled.

"So are we going to enter port, or just hijack this tub. I'm following you after all, as to where I still don't know, nor care."

A shift and she was on her feet, stepping clear of the refuse. A turn on heel and she was lurking over Threes shoulder, eyeing the monitor he was working on. A disk was tossed onto the desk by her.

"If you're one to add insult to injury, activate that when we disembark. Nothing that would kill anyone, I swear. Just a little joke I play on script-kiddies and crackers."

He smirked and studied the plain-looking disk. "Alright, sounds fun. In any case, I guess we'll leapfrog around until we've lost any tails, and then return home on good old terra. Sort of a long trip, though, so sorry in advance. So, we'd better clear out the rest of the ship."

She clucked her tounge.

"If I may be blunt, what's a Terra?"

He managed to catch his laugh. "A nickname for Earth...in the Sol system. Sorry."

"Ah, Sol? Is that system nice this time of year?"

Ishmal chuckled and backed to the door. She popped her head out and looked up and down the hall.

"Never hurts to lighten the mood with some small talk."

He smiled at Ishmal. "Sol's always nice. Small talk is nice, but I think we should get moving soon. Did you find anything good in here?"

"Captain, the men, they want to leave."

"I will not abandon my ship."

"But Captain, this is irrational, we must leave while we still can."

"I WILL NOT ABANDON MY SHIP!"

The Commander stared blankly at him, admiring his courage and shocked by his stupidity.

"You tell them..No, I will tell them."

He got up, strode to the corner of the large cockpit, where the men lounged. Lounged and waited to die, like an animal cornered by his predator. A few of them looked up, but most of them slouched against the wall, their misted eyes staring at their hands.

Wiltern pointed at one of the men.

"You. You go the emergency lock and leave on one of the extra boats. You, you, and you-" A few more flicks of wrist. "will go with him. The rest of you, we will search the rooms and get every single man off this ship. Every. Single. One.."

The men left accordingly, arming themselves with masks and guns. They flooded through the rooms nearest the cockpit, gathering the bodies of men who couldn't escape the deadly gas.

Captain Wiltern strode towards the room at the end of the hall, slowly pushing the door open. In each room, there was at least one man who was lucky enough to have his mask on in time. In this room, there was none.

His eyes widened at the sight, blurring with tears of confusion and anger. He pounded on the door, took out his gun and shot a few blind shots at the walls.

"GET OUT OF MY SHIP!"

He threw fists on the walls, rampaging, shouting, tearing apart anything he could find near.

"GET OUT OF MY SHIP!"

A very calm voice came over the intercomm, broadcasting to the whole ship. "Stop putting bulletholes in the wall, you fool. Then again, go ahead and vent yourself if you think it will do any good. In any case, we just want the ship, but if your men are going to fight back at us, we will kill them without hesitation. The rest of you; I would suggest you put down your weapons, unless you've always wondered what annihilation felt like. If you do not resist, you will be free to gather your dead and wounded and leave. In the meantime, we bring you a very special selection from the wonderful Ishmal."

He grinned and slipped the disk into the PC before rising from his seat.

"Let's move. And...please don't kill any more of them if you don't have to."

A simple emoticon was broadcast on video throughout the ship. A red dot with a wide smile. A few seconds of audio looped as well, playing maniacal laughs throughout any band that would recieve it, including the intercom. A small bit of text began to scroll above the emoticon.

" 411 \/\/0r|< 4|\||> |\|0 p14'/ /\/\4k35 j@[k 4 |>|_|11 |30'/ "

A small box underneath the two items displaying on every monitor of the ship, gave everyone the sight of every file in their net being scrambled.

"It was originally to just piss off kids trying to hack into the Ministry. It won't touch anything that would mess with the ships vital functions though. Onto the cockpit then?"

Three almost died laughing, but managed to retain his professional dignity.

"Wow, that's annoying. Right, to the cockpit." He said, stepping out into the hall, sweeping it with his pistol.

A hop through the door, and she trotted down the hall. A flick of brass and her last round was fed into the blaster, now sagging at her side.

"I have only one round left, think they'll give up? Or do you think I'll have to bludgeon some. This thing still weighs a helluva lot."

He held out an unsilenced pistol to her. "Just that if you run out. But try taking head shots, it'll save you lots of ammo. 'Course, I guess hitting them over the head works occasionally..."

He stopped fighting his non-existent, defenseless enemy as the message was relayed. It only broadened his determination to get every man off his ship, but as the Captain, he would rather have the thing destroyed than in the hands of a madman.

His men had already cleared out most of the front areas of the ship, being large in number (about 45, as they grew larger everytime they found someone alive in each room who was able-bodied).

(OOC: Hope you don't mind if I speed this up a little >_>)

Soon, they had a third of the rooms in the back of the ship cleared. Because of the length of time they had, and the uncertainy whether or not help would come from the troops who were sent out of the ship, the men they found were covered with cloaks in the large medical rooms in each wing of the ship, where a moment of silence would be held.

"I will not let you take my ship."

"Danke."

Grabbing and twirling it a bit. She scurried up the rest of the hall to an intersection, and glanced down each path. She then looked up to ventilation ducts running along the cieling. A small squint, and then a nod of the head.

"Cargo straight ahead... medical, cockpit, or containment to the left... And I'd say cockpit or airlock to the right."

She counted off each path.

"Pick one, odds or evens."

"Ah...odds." He said, drawing a wakizashi with his left hand.

"Off to the right."

And she hopped around the corner, skipping off down.

Three watched her skip off. "Crazy, crazy woman."

He took a more cautious route through the rightward halls, minimizing the sound he made and remaining prepared to do any number of nasty things to anyone who stood in his way.

With luck, his crew would return home to their families. Even the deceased, they were boarded on the ships in the emergency lock with the rest. Rotting in a tincan in space is a funeral for no man.

They would return with the scars in their eyes, in their souls, in their hearts. They would be hollow. They would tell the stories to their grandsons, their granddaughters, who would be sitting on their knees, upright and at attention. They would cling to the hope that the scraps of their stories would prevent the inevitable cycle of violence.

Captain Wiltern would never go home.

He, as every cursed devoted captain, would go down with his ship.

And he, as every man in his last moments, understood everything.

There could never be any justification to murder, to war, because how can you justify something that wasn't meant to exist?

Is one life more deserving to continue than another?

His shaking hand grazed the glowing pane of glass as he watched his crew depart into a melancholy retreat. Or was it a hope?

He sighed and turned away from the glass, pulling an object out of one of the helmets in the lock. He set it on the ground and tweaked its face.

It began to tick.

With a sad smile, he pulled his handgun out of his holster, put it to his head.

"Do not fear the dark."

Click.

"For the time will come when the light is gone."

Bang.

Ishmal reached out for the number pad when she heard a loud bang from the other side of the door. She looked up, and back to Three who was loligagging down the way. Pshh, he was being carefull. Sheesh. She knocked the number pad off with her blaster, and took a step back as the door slid open. She took a small step into the cockpit, and took a small step out again.

"Damit.. I wanted to kill him.."

She stepped inside again, and again took a step back out.

"Three, we have a problem."

NSP Boarding Ship

Sherbakov spun around in his computer chair, tapping impatiently for the ship to arrive so that he could log its status into his beloved computer. He ran a bony hand, paled from the neon glow of his monitor, through a jet of his fiery red hair. His other hand would adjust his thin framed glasses that beheld the spectacle of his glassy hazel eyes.

For once he wore a neat navy blue suit, an exuberant change from his usual plaid and patched orange pants and dingy red shirts, President of NSP's orders. After all, this was his command station. He was the rule maker, Sherbakov was the rule breaker.

"Sherb, contact Captain Wiltern as to inquire why he hasn't boarded yet."

Sherbakov stopped spinning, shot a wild grin at Mr. Joisan, the President of NSP. He crawled up to the keyboard of his computer, reached out his arms to embrace the large mainframe (even with the large, lanky arms he had he could not reach around).

Then he began a series of tapping on the keyboard, bringing up various satellite feeds.

"There. There! That one." Joisan shouted throwing a hand at Sherbakov, stopping him on a satellite picture featuring the ship floating off course.

Sherbakov swept up his intercom, tapped a few more times on the keyboard, setting the signal to bounce of the satellite they were looking from to the ship's intercom.

"CTV Sparrow this is Lieutenant Sherbakov, you were set to board at 0900 hours, yet failed to do so. Please state status of your ship and reason as to why this has occured."

A small snicker was heard over the band.

"Sherbakov.. Nice name kid.."

A few seconds of static followed.

"Hey kid, we have a file for you.. We're sending it over now, and it will explain everything that's been happening.. I'm just so darned puckered out, I don'y know hoe I would stay awake explaining! The file is labeled, All work and no play.."

At which point she cut out.

Sherbakov angrily tried to reapply the connection, but to no avail. A screen burst before him, alerting him that the message from CTV Sparrow had arrived.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Open it!"

"That voice definitely was not Captain Wiltern."

"So? Maybe he has someone else run the communications. Open that damn file."

Sherbakov stared at Joisan through narrow slits.

"I want a list of the crew members on the CTV Sparrow. Can you get it for me?"

Joisan was surprised by the sudden dominant tone in his subordinate officer. Nevertheless, he retrieved the list and stepped back as Sherbakov inspected it.

"Just as I thought. Joisan, there isn't one female name on this list. Unless they were christened with a male name, no female is on the CTV Sparrow."

"Sherb, open that damn file." Joisan grunted, annoyed with his reluctance to follow orders and address him properly.

Sherbakov sighed loudily, moving his cursor ever so slowly to the file. He finally reached it, gradually lifting his whole hand from the cursor and-

"JUST OPEN THE DAMN FILE."

Sherbakov rolled his eyes and quickly double-clicked it. A red dot appeared with maniac grin, the same text slapped above the item. Laughter boomed the speakers sorrounding Sherbakov's computer, two boxes appearing that showed his computer being scrambled.

Sherbakov stood up quickly, his chair flying from underneath him.

"SHIT! GOD DAMN IT, I KNEW IT! SHIT!" Curse words flew loquaciously and easily from his mouth, his hands furiously tugging at the flames of his hair. He spun around wildly, then stopped and ran at Joisan, who stepped back, daunted. Sherbakov snatched the chair in front of Joisan, pushing it at the computer and quickly hopping on the ride to his monitor.

He pushed up his sleeves, stretching out his arms before he began his battle with the virus. With a few blocked attempts to activate his anti-virus programs, he finally succeeded to break the virus down into codes and reroute it back to the ship.

His jaw fell open, eyes wide and unable to cope with the ordeal. He slowly went over computer, most of the files salvaged and saved from the scrambling. Even so, the ones that had been affected would take a while to fix.

Sherbakov slumped over the vast panels of his workspace, a small sob escaping from his crumpled figure.

Three was standing beside her.

"Aww, now that was just mean. Don't you know never to expose a techie to such a potent virus? Their heads explode." He said sarcastically, grinning wryly. Maybe he was beginning to get used to her. "So, captain killed himself and set a bomb. Not in that order."

He stooped over the bomb and diagnosed it as best he could. "Lessee..."

((Can I get some specs on the bomb?))

((OOC: Hmm. Lesse. Couple sticks o' dynamite wired to an eggtimer, set for one minute. You be the judge on how long it took for you two to discover it. The lock doors are hotwired to open after the time of explosion, so good luck with that o.O))

"Potent, yes. Unstoppable, no. Most it'll do is just completely screw up their systems for a few days. A bit of an information black out, but nothing too extreme. It was only designed to mess with kiddies."

She was roaming about the cockpit, running her hands over the controls. She glanced to the bomb, but decided it was better to keep her attention diverted. And her eyes fell upon.. A washroom..

"Three. Flush the thing. This is a cargo ship, there 'aint no septic tank."

She trotted over and flung open the door, eyeing down into a, bowl.

"Will it fit?"

((You mean airlock doors?))

Three smiled up at her. "It's only a bit of dynamite, and there's no motion trigger. Down it goes."

He placed the pack of explosives into the toilet and pushed down on the flusher, hoping it would go down.

][ Who's deciding whether or not it fits :headbang: ][

((I would imagine Crsyindom.))

((It fits, etc, etc))

And so it was shot out into space.

"You think it'll hit anything?"

"I doubt it." He said slowly. "But if it does, at least it won't be us."

"Soon we'll be chased.. So now we must run.."

Ishmal hopped from the stall, twirling on toe and danced out into the cockpit, taking a small jump over the captain. She ran her hand along a control panel and finered a few of the buttons, tracing them out with a finger. A keyboard was spotted and she quickly went over to it, eyes dancing with delight over the familiar keys, stroking the enter button lightly. SHe hunched over a bit and glanced to a small monitor in front of her, and began typing. A few seconds later, a large monitor blinked on with a map of the surrounding starspace which quickly zoomed into their position and the NSP Boarding Ship.

"We're the red dot.. They're the blue dot.. Space lanes are green.. Everyone else is yellow.."

She continued typing, glancing to the monitor in front of her every once in a while. Every nation on Montelukast was standardized in the way they operated in space, same maps, same measures, same everything. Another moment clacking away and a second monitor blinked on, showing a larger view of the surrounding space, including planets, stars, and stargates. Something caught her eye, and a contingent of rapid clicks and clacks revealed another monitor blinking on, a half circle reflection shown.

A cracked her knuckles and stood up, eyeing over the prize she found. "So three.. There's all you need.. Space charts, Trade lanes, Planetary orbits.. Even a stargate.. Where to next captain.."

][ Crsyindom gave us free reign over what the cockpit is, Whee! ][

"Interesting maps. I suppose I'm more accustomed to the maps on military ships." He smirked. "Since they were planning on refueling, I doubt there's much fuel left...I'd prefer to do a little bit of zig-zagging before we headed home, but I don't know how much fuel is left. Can you figure out hos much is left? You know these systems better than I."

"Lesse here.."

Another grace of the keyboard and click a clack would continue. Another screen replaced the one with a reflection on it, highlighting all vital functions of the ship in a series of linear charts and graphs.

"Fuel is almost gone. Air circulation systems are gone. Everything else seems to be fine though, but that dosen't really matter seeing as how fuel is almost kaput."

Another second at the keys.

"If need be.. Dock Seven on the NSP Boarding Ship is clear.."

"Sherb, get Alberto Carosia, Minister of Defense, on the line. Tell him that the CTV Sparrow has been interrupted in the course of duty and the crew members are in possible danger. It has been hijacked by an unindentified figutive."

Sherbakov nodded and spun around on his chair.

"Mr. Carosia? This is Lieutenant Sherbakov of NSP Boarding Ship Main. CTV Sparrow was scheduled to board here at 0800 hours, but failed to do so. When questioned of this, a virus was sent to the motherboard computer."

"Ships from..Sparrow arrived..crew members, half dead.There was n-..sign of Captain W-..presumed to be dead."

Sherbakov closed his eyes and bowed his head. He took a second to gather himself, then lifted himself back up.

"What will be your course of action?"

Ministry of Defense, Capitale Rosa

Alberto Carosia ran a dark hand through his greying mop of black hair, sniffing a large nose at the cup of coffee poised at his mouth. His eyes, deep olive paired with long eyelashes, dived down into the swirling mist of steam. He averted them, placing the cup down and reaching for the intercom.

"Lieutenant Sherbakov?"

"..-es?"

"We will send two NSP Jets out to tail the CTV Sparrow. Alert President Joisan, they may need to board."

"Al-..t, over and ..-ut"

Three sighed and concentrated.

He turned slowly to Ishmal. "I've killed a lot of people and taken a lot of risks today, and just for one fugitive; you, when there were a whole lot of others I could have helped instead. I hope you're grateful."

He brought up the system map again, zoomed it out, and pointed to an empty patch of space. "We'll go here. It's an uncharted system under the control of Cyberutopia, but it's not going to stay hidden for much longer. It's economic span increases every day, and sooner or later it's going to bump up against something. Should have just enough fuel. You can set up the coordinates."

][ Sorry about the whole, me dying thing for the past week. ][

A scattering across the keyboard would take up once again. This time it was prolonged for a good few minutes, carefully typing out every detail and exactly defining what would and what would not be needed. Diversion of fuel here, thruster boost there, load transfer somewhere else. Another second of furious tapping and it ceased, a nice file on the small screen in front of her perfectly coded. Now for it to execute.

"If you wouldn't mind, Three... Could you press that convieniently placed generic ominous red button behind you, and take the very much cliched action of buckling up for a bumpy ride before we, excuse the tired and worn out phrase, blast the hell outta' here?"

Three beamed. "Yes, ma'am."

He went through the repetitve process of buckling himself in, whirled around in his chair, and hovered his hand over the big shiny button.

"Excuse the horrendous cliche, but I cannot resist. 'Gotta jet.'" He laughed and slammed the button way harder than was necessary.

The ship practically exploded, sending anything not fastened down flying to the back walls. Nothing was left still, everything shaking and contorting as much as the ship would allow as it hurdled forth into space. No stabalisers or any silly things like that were going to be activated, heavens no! Drain on power, and when you need all you can get, your going to get shot out as far, as fast, and as rough as you can. A good minute of the disorientating shake lasted before the ship heaved and settled down. Well, settled down to the point at which you can keep you stomach from turning inside out, vibrations and clanging persisting.

The thrusters positively roared in the background as the ship worked with all its might to, Blast the hell outta there.

A monitor foward of the cockpit tracked the progress, a red dot in the corner of the screen gradually gliding over to green crosshairs in the center.

The Agent leaned back in his chair and sighed to himself.

"So...is the general ship inspiration out here insanity?" He asked, rubbing his side after the severe jarring. "What now?"

"What now? We wait. We should arrive in a few hours to a day or two, depending on conditions. The ship will alert us when we're close to arrival.. So I suggest nothing else but sleep."

With that she yawned, and slumped in her chair a bit folding her arms behind her head. "Unless of course you have something else of importance to go on with?"

"No, nothing really." He mumbled, looking up at the cold metal ceiling.

He found it impossible to get to sleep, occuping himself with checking on the dull display of their progress. In this he found nothing interesting, so he watched Ishmal for a long time.

After a nice thirty nine hour nap, the display up front beeped.

Ishmal yawned and stretched her arms, opening her eyes a bit and letting them glide over the display. They were just outside the coordinates now. Thirty nine hours wasn't bad timing actually. The ship started to shake as it settled to slow.

"Three, that's unnerving. The whole won't take your eyes off me thing."

The Agent flushed crimson and turned away.

"I thought you were sleeping." Was the only explanation he could offer up.

The ship shuddered slightly as they passed the hyperlimit into the Aurora System. A red light flashed on the console and a crackly message filtered through to them.

"Konichiwa, CTV Sparrow! Hajimashite?" The voice asked.

"Ano...decent, arigatoo gozaimasu." Three responded tiredly.

The voice laughed. "Long trip?"

"Ile, Ile." The Agent said hurriedly. "Is this a secure channel?"

"Hie, indeed sir."

"Good. I am an Agent of Cyberutopia, and I am carrying with me a fugitive. We require the utmost secrecy. Pass it up the line."

A audiable gasp was heard. "An Agent. Yes, sir! I will make sure all your requests are met. Please dock on Aurora Prima in Bay 12 of Månœn."

Three smiled over at Ishmal.

"Guide us in, Cap'n." He said, gesturing towards the watery planet below.

She smiled, taking first notice of where they were. She sat up blinking a few times, and turned her gaze to the sphere indicated. She smiled broadly and laughed a bit.

"Water.. Heh, is it humid by any means?"

It was a lovely sphere really. Ishmal cracked her knuckles a bit, sighed, then disentangled her fingers and deftly smacked a blue button on the panel. A low voice chirped on in the cabin, spitting out quickly- 'Orbit terminated. Designate landing manually.' The ship bucked again, and pitched foward.

"Pilots controls are up front. Can't get us there without knowing where we're going." She couldn't help but laugh again.

On an off note

"Clerk, where by Kracken did that transport heading for The Water Cooler vanish to?"

"No idea Yish."

"Don't call me Yish."

"Right-o."

"Get me coffee."

Three nodded and took the controls. They looped around the large planet several times, discarding more and more altitude each time around. On the final pass, the Agent brought the ship low enough to ripple the water. A gigantic fish of pure gold launched itself into the sky next to the bridge of the ship, glistening brilliantly in the pair of suns. The ship lurched upwards again as they approached the pearl white city of Månœn, the second largest city on the planet, and plunged into one of the multi-story wells that housed the industrial functions of the floating city, along with the docking bays. The ship settled down with a soft bump, and Three fumbled for a second, looking for the button to lower the access ramp.

He blushed again. "Er..."

http://www.gamebanshee.com/starwarskotor/worlds/images/manaan1.jpg

"Tsk squared. The obligatory glass encased emergency release button silly."

She took her elbow and broke through the convienintly placed device. She circled it idly with her finger with much theatrics, paused, and pressed it in. A hatch in the middle of the cockpit floor flung open, a small stairway revealed. Light came up through as another half of the stairway descended through an opening to the outside, a gust of wnd coming into the ship as pressure equalized so suddenly.

"Voila. Magic."

The staircase thudded softly as it hit the ground. She swiveled in her chair to face Three and stood, a small smile settled in place.

"So what happens now in the shiny new oddly scented world you have brought me to?"

A rush of sea air filled the cockpit, and Three gave a relaxed sigh.

He laughed at her enthusiasm. "We try to stay secretive, dump the ship, and get back to Earth. There, you can do whatever you want, hopefully away from the murderous gaze of your homeland. The offer to join us still stands, as well..."

"Seeing as how I am desperate to find out who Agent One and Two are.. You're stuck with me for a while."

Ishmal giggled and danced over to the stairs, upsetting her chair. She took a deep breath and relished in the new scent, very sweet, very familiar. She sighed and skipped off down the stairs, stopping just above the ground and hitched her head back looking up for Three.

"You very well know I can't follow you if I'm in front."

The Agent grinned in return. "They're not the nicest of people."

He lept out of his seat, grabbed the wakizashi from the console and sheathed it, checked his silenced pistol again and holstered it, and adjusted the strap on the sniper rifle that clutched to his back. He placed a classic thermite charge on the main console and set the timer for twenty seconds.

"Right. Let's go." He said, brushing past her into the blinding light of Aurora Prima.

"Da dun dun dun da, da-da, da-da."

She skipped off from the stairs and into wherever the hell they were, twirling a bit with newfound space. To move! After a nap lasting longer than a day, movement was good. She spread out her arms, and regretfully achieved a good stretch. The weight of her blaster was not there to hinder her. She'd find something else. Eventually.

"Da dun dun dun da, da-da, da-da."

She rapped the hull with her knuckles, bounded away, and skipped off after Three

"Da dun dun dun da. Da da da. Da-da da, da-da, da-dum."

She did a spin. Twenty seconds!

The small boxy charge beeped sharply before the thermite activated, burning straight through the main console as if it wasn't even there, and scorching the walls with chemical soot. Three smiled grimly at the ship. He would have to hack into Månœn's files later and have it impounded for overdue parking tickets or something.

"Well..." He began, looking Ishmal over, "we have a number of options before us."

"Joisan, they've gone off the map."

"The NSP Jets, too?"

"Yes."

Joisan fumbled idly with the greying tresses upon his head, as if trying to pry an answer from his babbling brain.

"No doubt those pilots will try to pursue them."

Sherbakov nodded, blinking his large rusted pupils into focus.

"This is what Carosia wanted, no?"

"Sì. I haven't a doubt those pilots have some sort of tracking thing on the Sparrow, and that they'll be sending information to us any minute now."

Some several minutes later

"Yep, any minute now.."