Special Branch XII: Back in Black by CLAYTONPAYNE

Here it is, the twelfth thread in the ongoing Special Branch story.

Special Branch Intro Here's how it is: There's a parliament, a big bad government called The Alliance that seeks to unite all the worlds under its rule. Only some take issue to that policy, not to mention their methods. And so The Resistance was born. They called themselves Special Branch - a group made up of fugitives, former soldiers, companions and a whole lot more. They became a thorn in the side of not only The Alliance, but a whole host of secret groups and private armies. And so they were hunted down, imprisoned without charge. Now the last remaining members are scattered across the verse, trying their best to rebuild their lives, or start over. But one event will bring them back together, will force them to unite as they prepare for the oncoming storm.

Recap: Ariel: The group formerly known as Special Branch regrouped after two years to rescue one of their own - Vixen Goddard. The young woman, being readied for execution was being used to lure in the rest of the group as a trap, but the group of freedom fighters knew their enemy too well and were able to rescue her and escape, but not without suffering more losses. Soul's former lover, Ciaran - a woman blessed with the ability to change her shape - took on the guise of Vixen and sacrificed herself, knowing that her death would only be a temporary one. She awoke, several worlds away, safe and sound. Unfortunately, Soul wasn't in such a comfortable position. Captured by the bounty hunter Kurren, Soul is killed and killed again. Not even in death and resurrection can he escape. His soul has been claimed, and its only a matter of time before he is broken and turned back into the killer he once was.

Meanwhile, Clayton Payne - the Crimson Squad's latest recruit - tries to convince Needy's former lover Kyra that she's in danger from the ex-companion, but he is unable to convince her to leave. Whilst Payne follows orders from the CS and makes his way to Ariel; Kyra learns of the murder of Liam Torne, an ally of the Resistance, and comes to the realisation that she can't hide anymore.

Previous threads are here:

Guide to Special Branch http://fireflyfans.net/mthread.asp?b=11&tid=29509#515129

1.Special Branch: Unbound http://fireflyfans.net/mthread.asp?b=11&tid=20504

2.Special Branch: The Chasing Of Wild Geese http://fireflyfans.net/mthread.asp?b=11&tid=21730

3. Special Branch and the HUGE Hospital Bills http://fireflyfans.net/mthread.asp?b=11&tid=23302

4. Special Branch: The Living Dead http://fireflyfans.net/mthread.asp?b=11&tid=24558

5. Special Branch: Motherhood For Heroes http://fireflyfans.net/mthread.asp?b=11&tid=26599

6. Special Branch: Secrets & Lies http://fireflyfans.net/mthread.asp?b=11&tid=28546

7. Special Branch: Santos http://fireflyfans.net/mthread.asp?b=11&tid=29910

8. Special Branch: Loose Ends http://www.fireflyfans.net/mthread.asp?b=11&tid=34804

9. Special Branch: Lost Friends http://www.fireflyfans.net/mthread.asp?b=11&tid=41828

10. Special Branch: Overdue Reunions http://www.fireflyfans.net/mthread.asp?b=11&tid=46305

11. Special Branch: The Execution of Vixen Goddard http://beta.fireflyfans.net/mthread.aspx?bid=11&tid=46830

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Tuesday, February 01, 2011 5:55 AM

Seventeen Hours Later, Ariel:

“Mr Green will see you now,” the young woman said, tapping a button on the desk in front of her. Clayton Payne had felt like a patient in a waiting room, only he hadn’t made an appointment to see any doctor. If he had the choice, he would have been sat in his vehicle, still listening in to Kyra’s conversations, watching over her. But he had his orders. Payne stood up from the expensive couch, upon which he’d been sitting for the better part of an hour, and headed for Green’s office.

“Take a seat,” the superior officer told him as soon as he walked through the door. He’d never been in this building before, nor met the infamous Mr Green, but he spotted the seat opposite the man’s desk and immediately made his way over to it. Green was in his late forties, slim and sharply dressed, with thinning grey hair and oblong shaped glasses resting at the tip of his nose. Unlike most of the Crimson Squad’s higher-ups, this man showed no indication of having once been a soldier or fought in any kind of war. He was the type of man that belonged behind a desk, giving kill orders from the comfort of his armchair.

“Mr Payne,” he began “I must say you’ve been making great strides for our company. Seems Youngblood was right about you after all.”

“Thank you sir,” Clayton answered without hesitation.

“Having said that, something’s come to our attention which, I must say, is rather unsettling.”

As Green said the words, Clayton found himself growing anxious and his heart at once stopped, before starting up again, beating faster and faster until he imagined it just might cause him a heart attack right then and there. He’d broken his fair share of rules over the last week or so. Lying about knowing the whereabouts of Kyra and keeping in contact with her, that was one thing but it was the least of his worries. He’d leaked information. He’d told her about the CS plans to capture the Resistance. That sort of thing would earn him more than a slapped wrist. He’d be lucky to keep his wrist.

“Sir?” Clayton asked, desperately trying to conceal his guilt.

“It’s about the operation here a few days ago,” Green said. Clayton looked up at him, waiting for him, urging him to continue. Say something, anything, he thought to himself. The silence seemed to last for a lifetime. Finally, the suited man reached down and pulled a file out of his desk drawer, placed it on top of the desk and promptly slid it across to Payne.

Clayton opened up the old-fashioned paper file and flipped through it’s contents. An outdated photo and record of one William Spacer sat on the top. Payne looked up at his superior, wondering where this was heading.

“I don’t understand,” he admitted.

“You’ve got a new assignment,” Green said simply.

“If you want me to help you track these down, I think…”

“No,” Green said, waving his hand away. “We want you to start up an investigation.”

“I’ve already been assigned a case, the immolations…” Clayton began but Green waved him off again.

“Passed onto somebody else,” he said. “This investigation will now take precedence.”

“What is the case?” Clayton asked, shaking his head.

Green smiled and rose from his seat. He was short in stature, a fair few inches shy of six foot, but his authority was still felt by the former reporter still seated in the chair. “Tell me Mr Payne, are you a religious man?”

Clayton had no idea where this conversation was heading, but already he could tell that he wasn’t going to like it.

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Wednesday, February 02, 2011 12:01 AM

Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges

The Joint Chiefs appeared as holograms in the Grand Hall of Parliament on Londinium. It was rare that they were all were summoned at once but after recent incidents they all knew why they were here. The Joint Chiefs consisted of The Director of Crimson Squad, The Head of Federal Security, Admiral of The Alliance Air Fleet, Head of Special Operations, and Head of Blue Sun. These Five men were elected by and answered only to Parliament. Federal Security was the army of Parliament, the generic ‘Purple Bellies’ who enforced law and order. The Air Fleet was an archaic term as it now controlled space born vessels from transports to Heavy Cruisers. Crimson Squad was the Development and Research agency, dedicated to designing better ways to control the population and wage wars. Special Operations was involved with a wide number of highly secretive projects including the Expendables and a variety of public surveillance enterprises. Finally Blue Sun were public affairs, the giant propaganda machine of the Alliance, telling the people that they are safe and happy and shouldn’t cause a fuss.

“You Gentlemen know why we have asked you here today?” Asked a voice from the abyss. The Grand Hall of Parliament was dimly lit with a single bright spot light aimed at those giving testimony. Parliament liked secrecy and efficiency, the lighting was a simple power trick to remind the Chiefs who had elected them. The Chiefs nodded to the disembodied voice with a murmur of agreement. These were men who were used to commanding a great deal of respect and fear from everyone below them in their organisation, it was unnerving for them to be dragged before their own superiors to be disciplined like truant children.

“The incident in question is the failed capture of the group of terrorists known to be the last remnants of the Group ‘Special Branch’. Do you have anything to say?”

The Head of Special Operations stepped forward “With all due respect The Expendables Agent Soul was recovered and-“

A different voice interjected “The recovery of the Agent Soul was achieved mainly by a third party bounty hunter so please do not take any credit for your department from this”

“Also the recovery of Soul has cost your department another asset”

The Head of Special Operations bowed his head and took a step back “Very correct your honours”

“Federal Security” The Man took a step forward “It is believed that the Individual William Spacer infiltrated your defence force and was not identified even as he escorted Vixen Goddard from the Gallows. Is this correct?”

“Yes your honours, However he did undergo facial disrecognition in order to infiltrate out facilities”

”We are all very aware however further steps should have been taken to prevent this occurring. In future see to it that these incidents do not occur so easily”

“Yes your Honours” ”Blue Sun how is the public being informed of the incident?”

“We are telling people that Vixen Goddard was shot and showing the visual footage of the Execution of the Expendable Ciaran. We’re also saying that the building detonation was done by Federal officials and the entire Terrorist group were killed in the explosion. We’re also running documentary stories on crimes committed by the groups to improve government support”

“Gentlemen. This was an embarrassment. For a situation so carefully planned by our forces to go so entirely out of control is an entirely unacceptable. We as Parliament are increasing the threat level of these individuals and allocating special funding for their elimination. See to it Gentlemen that this does not happen again. Good day.”

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Wednesday, February 02, 2011 12:55 AM

Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges

Seryn piloted the shuttle in a steep ascent into the planets orbit quickly merging with spaceborne docking traffic. As soon as she was sure nobody was following she pulled out of the commercial lane and brought the ship to a stop. Wisp and Safe had recovered from their burst of combat and were sat quietly in the rear compartment. This wasn’t yet the time for hearty greetings and debate of adventures. Trouble still lurked nearby. Vixen sat in the co-pilot spot still dressed in her painted execution and hand me down dress. Now that the situation had passed she looked truly ridiculous.

“Where do we go now?” Wisp asked from the back. “I mean we have to get the hell away from Ariel”

“I’ve got the Nandi planetside” Seryn added

“It’s too risky to go back down there.” Safe Responded “My shuttle’s parked on the outskirts of town and that’s still too risky.”

“This shuttle won’t get us too far. The nearest planets are core worlds, which are no help and I don’t even think we could get that far” Wisp was mentally analysing the map of the verse. “We could reach one of Ariels moons. The third one is an Oxygen farm. If we can get in without being detected we could easily commandeer a longer range ship planet side?”

The group looked around at each other, The plan wasn’t exactly a masterpiece but it was simple and sturdy.

“Ok” Safe finally decided “Seryn head us towards the third moon. Try and land near a settlement but not at it, somewhere with a quiet port. We land, find a ship that can get us to the rim and get the hell outta dodge.”

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Thursday, February 03, 2011 1:56 PM

OOC: Sorry I haven't posted in a while, been caught up in breaking my writers block. Unfortunately it had far reaching effects and I was drawing a blank here too. I think I've broken through, so I'll try to post in a bit.

Safe's backstory isn't nearly as interesting as what Wisp and Needy have been posting.

Check out my blog for info and updates on my novels http://drlong67.wordpress.com

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Monday, February 07, 2011 1:58 AM

A lot had changed for Clayton Payne in the last two years. Too much, one might say. He'd helped the resistance, only to do a complete 180 and in fact help the Crimson Squad hunt them down. He'd been raised by a man who came to be derided, mocked and ultimately defamed. In the years since, he'd tried to do the honourable thing - defend the truths his father had fought to expose. But Clayton didn't know what he believed anymore. He certainly didn't believe in himself. And now his new boss, the strange Mr Green, was asking about his religious beliefs. What was there to say?

"Sir?" Clayton asked.

"You religious?" The man in the lime green chair put to him. "You believe in God?"

"No," he replied simply with a firm shake of his head.

"Why?" the man asked, seemingly baffled by the reporter's answer.

Clayton sighed. Did he really need to go through it all? The last thing he'd expected this morning was to be involved in a debate on theology. But the man was asking him a question, and he knew better than to ignore a man in his position. "Because i've seen too much to believe in a god that cares about us."

"Right, seen too much," Mr Green said with a nod, as if it had been the answer he'd been expecting all along. "Seems the way i see it, the more one sees, the more one needs to believe in something more."

Clayton breathed a sigh before answering, "That ain't me sir."

"No, thats what i figured." Green answered him. "But that's why i need you on this."

"What is it?" Clayton asked with trepidation.

Green stood up and walked over to the visual screen on the right hand side of the room. Switching the screen on, he began to explain: "The boy, Spacer, said something in the crowd." Pressing a button on a nearby keypad, the image flashed up with video of the incident on Ariel. William Spacer, the one that went by the name of Wisp, was rattling on about the power of Thor and some other nonsense as he held back the crowds.

When the footage reached its conclusion, Clayton could only muster up a single word reply. "So?"

Green ignored the man's apathy and went ahead with his questioning. "What do you know about Thor; the gods of old? The Nordics?"

"You're not taking the kid seriously?" Clayton asked the man in disbelief.

"Please, humour me," the man pushed.

"Not much," Clayton answered. "Seems to me the Nordic's are just another cult, believing in fairy tales, trying to search for meaning in things and events that have none."

"Don't we all," Green said, almost playfully. Then he turned serious again as he told Clayton straight, "I want you to look into it."

"Into what?" Clayton asked, uncertain.

"Whether you believe it or not," Green explained. "We need to know who we're dealing with and if Spacer, not to mention the others, actually believe it - that they're following a higher purpose."

Clayton shakes his head and points hard at the man in a gesture. "This? This is a waste of time."

"Know your place boy," Green said sternly, forcing Clayton to return his hand by his side.

"Sorry, sir," Clayton apologised. "But this kid, this Spacer, he was just trying to shake the crowd up, you know how some of the people on Ariel are, they're a superstitious bunch, more so than the backberths on the outer rim."

"Perhaps you're right," Green nodded. "But truth is we've been looking at these... fugitives, for long enough to suspect theres something more going on here. I expect the more you look into it, the more you'll begin to understand the reasons why this investigation's necessary."

Clayton nodded his head reluctantly. "Fine, sir, I'll do it, if that's my assignment. But I have to tell you that I believe its a waste of the company's resources. I've already looked into it, into Needham's background, with all the weird gose that went on around him. It got me nowhere."

"It got you nowhere because you didn't have all the information," Green said plainly.

Clayton paused and looked at the man, not understanding. "Sorry?"

"You are a new recruit," Green said. "We had to withhold some information from you until we discerned where your true loyalty lies."

"Wh-what sort of information?" Clayton asked, stumbling over his words.

Green stood up from his chair and went for the filing cabinet behind him. "You're a good man Mr Payne, trustworthy." Green unlocked the cabinet with his thumbprint and pulled the drawer open. When he turned around he held a shiny new card in his hand. "We're handing you the keys to the next level Payne, don't refuse it."

Green held out the access pass to him and Clayton, with much hesitation, rose from his chair and took it into his hand.

"Needham, Spacer, they're just the tip of the iceberg," Green explained. "The more you look into it... well, it just might open your eyes"

"With all due respect sir," Clayton asked. "Why me?"

"Because we need someone with experience, but someone with balls - somebody who's not just going to buy into any old crap. We need your eye, you're shrewd and you get to the nitty gritty. We need you if we're going to really dig into these guys and find out what makes them tick."

Clayton nodded, he was begining to understand now. "You think it will help you track them down, figure out their next move."

"Of course," Green said. "Maybe we can stop them before they take down another building, or even worse."

Clayton thought about it for a moment, but not nearly as long as he knew he ought to have done. But the truth was he'd already made his choice, he'd already sold his soul. What good would sitting on the fence do now? "Okay," Clayton answered somewhat painfully. "Where was it you wanted me to begin?"

"We've got you an office set up on level five," Green told him. "The worksheets and files are waiting for you."

"My own office?" Clayton asked, believing he'd misheard.

"Yes," Green answered proudly. "And your own men too."

"Sir?" the reporter asked.

"This is your operation Payne." Green told him finally. "We trust you can get the job done. Find out whatever you can, so we can bring these rebels in once and for all."

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Tuesday, February 08, 2011 11:17 AM

Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges

Wisp strolled into the bank casually heading for the Automatic Dispenser. It had been a few months since he’d escaped from his internment in Vankeetsens and times weren’t smiling down on him. He’d managed to siphon off some funds to pick-ups and safe houses around the verse but these were quickly soaked up with pay-offs and bribes. After setting up one of the verses most powerful crimelords he was pretty much on the hit list of any two bit gangster and above. Not to mention the Alliance were still keen on having him arrested. All this laying low, running away, and slipping cash to people so they’d look the other way was not easy and very expensive. He’d moved planet about every two weeks, sometimes less whenever anyone found him. He’d been on Harvest moon barely four days before a gang of mobsters had tried to whack him. Of course these amateurs were no match for a combatant of Wisp’s skill but where there was one there would be more, so it was time to move on. Unfortunately such a quick move would be costly and that was currency he just didn’t have. So he fell back on a tried and tested trade. Crime.

Now Wisp was far too smooth for some common hold-up. The plan was to go up the Auto Dispenser, A simple firewall hack, eject a smooth stack of platinum, then walk away. The theft wouldn’t be noticed till the end of the day and he’d be well off-world by then. Any sort of criminal activity was risky as it attracted unwanted attention but the situation demanded it. The bank was pretty classy for a backwater moon like Harvest. High ceilings, marble floors, brass fixtures along the counter. The guards stood discretely around the edges of the room, only two with only sidearm’s, nothing like you’d see on a core world but this place would only go through a fraction of the business. As one would expect the major transactions of Harvest were various forms of farming. Terraforming had created a mild climate with regular rainfall. Water was contained in freshwater lakes with only 30% of the world’s total held in saltwater oceans. Overall a damp quiet place perfect for growing crops year round, teeming with insects from earth that was.

To blend in Wisp wore battered military surplus clothing like the majority of those walking around town. The bank was doing a steady trade when he entered. Early morning when farmers were doing their errands buying and selling produce. Wisp entered the queue behind a gentleman in similar attire and a well dressed lady who must have come from one of the nearby offices. Both went about their business quickly and Wisp was at the front of the line in less than a minute. Acting calmly as if he was any other person he overrode the master firewall using a terminal in his hand, He selected the maximum amount then undid his work as the money was printed. It took no longer than a normal transaction and Wisp was headed out of the door scot free in a matter of moments. Fate however has a sense of irony.

Six people dressed in black burst through the front doors of the bank. The two guards were immediately shot and screams erupted through the building. A young dark haired woman directed her associates towards the counter and Dispensers.

“This is a Robbery. We will not hesitate to kill any of you. Customers on the floor hands on heads. Staff empty the tills into the bags that my associates are carrying. Everyone behave and you will see your families tonight.”

Gosa. That was the major thought going through Wisps head at this moment. Gosa. Gosa. Gosa. The last thing a person needed when they were robbing a bank was someone else robbing the same bank. Especially people doing it so clumsily and stupid as this team were. Two of the ‘henchmen’ as Wisp saw apt to describe them, were going down the registers from opposite ends filling their bags, one was walking around the customers laying on the floor shaking in terror and two were breaking open the Dispenser that Wisp had hacked with such tact moments previously. Wisp’s attention was drawn to the leader though. She had that whole ‘nasty hot’ vibe going on in her tight black jumpsuit, with automatic weapons strapped to the hips, and a cigarette between her lips. She looked like she was waiting at a bus stop rather than robbing a bank. She looked like a woman--all the correct curves in all the correct places—and she looked like she knew how to use them. The worst part was she looked really familiar. He racked his brain for where he’d seen this woman.

“Good to go Vixen” Well one of the henchman had just saved him some brain activity. Valerie ‘Vixen’ Goddard. This was a blast from the past he didn’t expect.

“Right boys pack it up before the feds get here” The team started out the door in just the whirlwind as they’d arrived when Wisp felt a vibration from his computer. Slyly withdrawing it he detected a radio signal coming from one of the bags, he recognised the frequency as one commonly used in remote explosives rather than a tracking signal. Wisp had heard of small banks using this method of theft prevention, as soon as the bag leaves the doors it detonates along with any thieves within an impressive distance. Vixen was about to walk her way into small pieces. Wisps options were pretty poor at present. Their mere presence would result in him being questioned by Feds and probably arrested for who he really was, maybe he could let them explode and then disappear in the confusion. But really as much as Wisp was on the run from the law, and as a matter of fact most of the anti-law he was still a good guy.

“Valerie! Stop!” He called after her springing to his feet. He was immediately regretful at the sight of six barrels pointing at him much quicker than he expected the goons to arrange.

“Nobody’s called me that in a long time. As a matter of fact I don’t really care for it.” Casually she strolled towards him taking a good look at his face. “Well If it isn’t little boy blue. Gotta say I was mighty impressed with your escape. Caused quite a stir at the time.”

“Vixen there’s a set of fake bills on one of your bags that’s filled with plastic explosive. It’s rigged to detonate as soon you leave the doors” She took a long drag on her cigarette breathing the embers red before flicking it to the ground. She stepped up getting close into his face before exhaling.

“And how exactly do you Gorram know this?”

Wisp held up the palm terminal. “I used my head like I always used to.”

She withdrew a step back “Which bag?”

“No Idea but I can block the signal long enough to get you out of reach.”

“Ok lets go” She set off out of the door motioning for him to follow.

“Err no. I'm gonna stay the Gorram here till you’re long gone then slip out. No offence but if you and your team are stupid enough to pull this job I don’t wanna be your hostage.”

Vixen withdrew one of the machine pistols on her waist and fired it at the nearest customer laid by her feet. The gunfire erupted a fresh set of whimpers and screams from the others around “I’m gonna shoot one of these customers every second till you accompany us. One” Middle aged woman probably a farmer “Two” Young man looked like he’d just turned eighteen “Thre-“

“Stop! Jesus stop, I’m coming. But I want it stated for the record I did this under duress.”

“Sure thing pretty boy. Move.”

Wisp furiously set up a wireless block as they headed for the door. Those few steps as he crossed the threshold his heart was beating like thunder in his chest but they made it through without a problem. Upon entering the streets a cargo vessel hung in the air above dangling ropes to the ground. All the thieves took up a thread and were pulled into the ship waiting above leaving Wisp with Vixen.

“So glad I could help but I’ll be on my way now.”

Vixen grabbed the rope with one hand then grabbed hold of Wisp with the other arm. “Now did you really think I’d let you walk off?” The cable began ascending upwards and Wisp decided to grab it to avoid falling unceremoniously to his death. He merged in a cargo bay next to a walkway to move onto. “Boys get the cash upstairs and make sure there aren’t any more surprises in there. Little boy Blue, follow me into my office.”

“The name’s Wisp actually.”

“Oh another one who falls back to his call sign how rebellious.” Vixen lead the way past the rest of the gang down a corridor that appeared to be crew quarters. “You know it’s been a long time since anyone stood up to me.”

“Well what do you expect when you surround yourself with muscle bound idiots? They’re too busy drooling over you to engage their brains.” She opened the door to the last room and lead the way inside “maybe there’s not enough blood.”

Vixen closed the door behind them and forced Wisp against. Leaning in she placed a hard kiss upon him urging with every inch of her lithe body. “Here’s what’s going to happen” she whispered into his ear, “I’m going to screw you with every fibre I’ve got. And then if you survive you’re gonna work for me.” She took a step back and began unzipping her jumpsuit revealing pale white skin and mounds of pearly flesh. “Deal?”

OOC- I will get back to the story but I just wanted to put this Flashback in

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Tuesday, February 08, 2011 4:24 PM

As the shuttle coasted through the black, Vixen slept and Wisp tapped furiously on his cortex pad. Safe now sat in the co-pilots chair as he replayed the events of the rescue in his head. The trap set was too well planned, too big even considering the talents of the man it was supposedly set for. Wisp would be a tricky catch even for the best, but this set-up was beyond even that scope.

Why were they making such a big deal about the capture and execution of one solitary criminal; one that wasn’t even part of the resistance? Ok he got that they were trying to lure Wisp in and maybe he even believed that they hope to catch more than one resistance member in doing so, but... the pieces just didn’t add up.

And finally, what did Needy have to do with all this? Why was Kyra taking such chances with the broadcast?

“Something smells...”

“Ya, I was going to say the same thing. Where did you find this shuttle anyway, the dump. Gorram thing flies like a brick.” Seryn said as she adjusted the settings again.

“No, the whole scene back planetside. It stinks.”

“Glad you though so too. Did it seem to you like they were expecting us but we weren’t what they were gunning for? Like we were an added bonus?”

“You may not be far off there, Seryn,” Wisp rose from his seat and moved to one closer. “I’ve been hacking some of the local news feeds and some of the no so local ones. There’s a lot of chatter, but they’ve covered it up. Claimed it a victory.”

“Curiouser and curiouser. Any word on or from Soul?” Safe tore his gaze away from the stars and looked over his shoulder to Wisp.

“Not a peep.”

“Do you think he was caught or... killed?” Seryn whispered.

“Better men have tried. Hell, there was a time when I tried. He’s got some secrets, a knack for squeaking out of things. Let’s give him some more time.” Safe looked back at the stars. “Do you think Needy’s really dead?” Seryn asked.

“Can’t see how that’s possible. He can’t be killed, at least as far as I know. I think we need to talk to Kyra. Wisp, do you think there’s a way you can discretely track her down with that fancy computer of yours?”

Check out my blog for info and updates on my novels http://drlong67.wordpress.com

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Thursday, February 10, 2011 3:05 AM

Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges

“Do bears crap in the wood’s? Of course I can find her. Lets see…” A round of furious tapping interspersed with the occasional ooh and ah followed till eventually “ That notice was posted using a Dynamic Address on a roaming server”

“Does that mean you can’t track her?”

“Give me a minute please” More tapping “ah rookie didn’t double back on herself. Ok This was posted from a terminal on Xiansheng, Southern continent near Lake Sho. She covered her tracks but not enough to stop me finding her, which means eventually someone else will”

“Gosa.” Safe replied

“Bad luck and worse luck” Seryn added.

“We’ll I’ve got some good news. According to the Cortex theres a guy on Ariels third moon is selling a ship, Firefly class. Pretty beat up but its cheap and it sounds like he’s after a quick sale. So we land at his place switch ships, then we can be on Xiansheng before the end of the day”

“Err I don’t know bout the rest of ya but im Kinda lacking in financials at present. How are we supposed to afford this ship?”

“Safe I spent two years working for a crimelord followed by another year with Billy the kid back there robbing vaults. I’ve got money stashed all over the verse ‘nough to buy a cruiser. A firefly is pocket change.”

“Wait if you’re all kinds of rich how come you don’t just settle down in the middle of nowhere?” Vixen called from the back, woken from her slumber.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

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Thursday, February 10, 2011 9:20 AM

Who we are depends on the outcome of the struggle between who we were and who we want to be

The house on Xiangsheng was deadly silent. Clothes and unused bags acted as decorations on the bed. Kyra and Luthor weren’t untidy by nature, but how the house looked whilst they were away was of little concern. They certainly weren’t expecting uninvited guests, but that too was a moot point. They didn’t yet know it, but their time here as a couple was over. Luthor wouldn’t return, and neither would Kyra. All that she had with her now was all that she’d carry with her. The rest would be left as a reminder of the life they once shared.

A day’s journey away, a passenger vessel - The Galapagos Forty Three, known for being one of the fastest vessels used for public transporation - sailed out into the black. The vessel was similar in design to the ISSCV Epsilon craft that Kyra had travelled in, and she couldn't help but be reminded of the crew - the crew that she had hopelessly tried to put behind her. But as much as she tried to ignore the similarities between the two ships, she couldn’t ignore the crew, not whilst she stared out of the window and saw that familiar globe in the distance, sitting out there in the black. Ariel. The place where all the trouble had taken place was now only a hair’s breadth away. She wondered if the crew were still down there, or if they were long gone. She didn’t dare imagine that the reports had been accurate - that they had all been killed when the building collapsed. She guessed that that was just another lie, another story perpetuated in order to preserve the reputation of the federal forces. They didn't need to be reminded how gorram useless they could be at times. Still, she wondered. What if it wasn't a lie? What if they were all dead? A couple of years ago, she had a friend by her side - a friend that would be invaluable right now. He'd tell her that she needn't worry, he'd allay her fears. Even in recent months he had contacted her with information. But now? Now she wondered if she'd ever see him again. Maybe she shouldn’t have pushed Clayton away like she had, but the truth was she didn’t feel like she could trust him anymore. His loyalty was with them, and she knew what they wanted.

But what about her loyalty? Once upon a time, it had been to herself and herself alone, but now she couldn’t say. She felt the need to get on this flight - this passage to Albion - and she could hardly say it was for herself. It was all for a man she'd barely gotten to know, for the sake of his family. She couldn’t say what she would do when she got planetside, or even how she could help. She just knew that unless she did something, Liam Torne’s death would just be glossed over; another death buried in the papers. And he deserved better than that.

A hand rested upon her own and she looked up at the man seated beside her. Luthor - he knew what she needed and he was there to support her, no matter what. She raised a smile at him and rested her head upon his shoulder.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen," a voice came across the speaker, causing all passengers to look up to the roof of the craft - as if paying respect to the God of the Galapagos. "We will be reaching our destination on Albion in approximately five hours," the female pilot announced. "We'd like to thank you for your patience."

Ignoring the voice, Kyra pulled the shutter to the window down, blocking the sight of Ariel looking back at her. “I’m glad you’re here,” Kyra muttered softly as she rested her eyes. Luthor didn’t need to answer, he just looked down at the woman, her head upon his shoulder, and then back to the front of the ship. As she slept, he continued to stare forward, pondering what Albion had in store for the two of them.

Meanwhile, a man in plain clothes looked on at the couple discreetly. The man, hired by Clayton Payne to keep an eye on the couple, was good at his job. One wouldn’t look at him twice. He was an average man of average height and average build, wearing pretty average glasses. He blended in with the rest of the joes. He didn’t know what was waiting for him on Albion, but he followed them like a faithful dog, not knowing that this particular assignment would be his last.

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Thursday, February 10, 2011 9:49 AM

CIARAN

I'm not even sure who the real me is anymore...

Ciaran slammed her fist down on the control panel in the cramped cockpit and cursed. They were gone, and she had no leads and no way to track them. She was smart enough not to believe the reports that Safe and the others had all perished on Ariel, but that didn't help her find them. She had stolen a ship that was small and fast, but it would only get her as far as Ariel before she would have to refuel, and that would be difficult, even with her gift. They would be doing palm prints, retinal scans, and even blood tests in some cases. There was only so much of herself that she could change at any one time.

She did a few more quick scans and sat back, thinking. Of the few things she knew for sure, there had been a shuttle on the roof of the destroyed building, and it wasn't in the rubble afterwards. That shuttle wouldn't get them very far, and going back to the surface would be a very bad move. That left an in-space hyjacking, which that shuttle wasn't equipped for, and Ariel's moons. Of them, the most likely culprit had an Oxygen farm, as well as a few ships for sale.

Her eyebrows crinkled. It wasn't much, but it was a start. She set the coordinates and the ship adjusted course.

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Thursday, February 10, 2011 11:27 AM

The newly institued Special Agent Payne pored over the files on his desk. He alternated scanning through the digital images on his right, with flicking through the endless pages of paper files that sat on his left. Occasionally Agent Kilgare, the young agent assigned to work alongside him and provide him with any assistance he needed, would enter the office and ask if he needed anything. So far Payne had accepted three cups of coffee and a sustenance bar.

But one file stared at the new Special Agent from the computer screen on his desk. Occasionally he'd tear his eyes away from the other files and stare at it for a few minutes - not reading the text or browsing through the file, just staring at it, mulling it over in his head - and then he'd get back to studying the files on the fugitives.

And yet, the casefile that watched over him, haunted the promising agent. Liam Torne: Deceased. Alongside his body, another as yet unidentified, but seemingly the victim of an implanted explosive.

Everything told him it was linked to the other deaths, even though the other murders were nothing more than ritualistic burnings. But this one, Torne, he was linked to Needy directly. They'd been on the same ship at one point, worked together, as far as Payne had figured. It couldn't be a coincidence. If Needy was involved with the other burnings, then Torne's death was linked too. Perhaps the unidentified man had been the killer, or at least another poor victim linked to Needy as well.

Payne tore his eyes away from the screen again. He'd been obsessed with Needy for the past two years. Now he couldn't even tell if his gut reaction could be trusted - after all, his gut constantly told him that Needy was involved. He'd become a record repeating. No wonder Kyra had wanted to get away from him. Needy, Needy. He'd never even met the man, and that was the gorram truth.

Clayton looked down at the table and pulled out the paper file that peaked underneath the files on Spacer and Goddard. Bernard Needham. Payne stared at his photo and shook his head.

"Who are you?" he asked the photograph, hoping for some epiphany. "Is this even about you?"

Payne looked up from the image and stared at the screen that held the memory of Liam Torne. "Did they kill him to get to you? Or did you kill him to get to the others?"

Payne looked down at the photograph and glared at it, burning the image onto his retinas. "Are you trying to get to her?"

Payne sighed loudly with an open mouth. Whether Needy was involved or not, somebody out there was sending a message. But who was listening?

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Thursday, February 10, 2011 1:15 PM

Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges

Aeroes loomed all around them in glowing green glory as the shuttle began its descent. Oxygen cultivation was big business and this small moon did lots of it. Designed at great Terraforming cost into a giant greenhouse with huge trees covered the majority of the planet’s surface. The cosmopolitan cities of Ariel produced huge amounts of pollution which was then freeze trapped and shipped a short jump to the third moon where it was converted using nature’s finest catalysis into fresh oxygen which was shipped back. Despite centuries of scientific thought, man could not recycle pollutants in any way more efficient than had evolved in plants without any interference. As the shuttle settled onto a landing pad on the edge of a small settlement the door opened unleashing the atmosphere of unbearable humidity and insects into the cabin.

“Ok there’s a logging factory on the south end of town and an oxygen capture plant at the north. Our man is about two miles east of the oxygen harvesting” Wisp held his terminal in front of the group showing a map of the area. Despite their only being on the surface for a minute at most highly moist air had forced everyone to loosen clothing as the sweat on their bodies was no longer inclined to evaporate.

“How do we know this isn’t a trap?” It was one of the first sentences Vixen had uttered since her escape. She kept shooting glances at Wisp shouting unspoken that she wanted to talk but there hadn’t been a moment yet.

“Good point. I'm guessing we don’t?” Safe grabbed his bag of gear and slung it over his shoulder. They didn’t have much in the way of baggage, though they were all conscious of the number of fire arms they had to conceal.

“We don’t but I got a feeling that it’s on the level. However we are all wanted criminals even though we’re pronounced dead so let’s not draw undue attention to ourselves on the way across town.” The group began to head towards the settlement keeping their heads down trying to look casual; however Seryn hovered looking at the ship that had borne them here.

“What about the shuttle?” Pilots always have a tendency to develop attachments to ships despite their inanimate form. Seryn was doing the math in her head that without proper care in this humidity the shuttle would quickly rust into disrepair.

Safe returned and put an arm round her shoulder bringing her along “We’ll tell the guy that it’s thrown in with the deal. I'm sure he’ll have a home for it in no time. Don’t you worry”

Wisp stared at the yawning valley of tree’s stretching out around them. “It’s amazing that this planet full of beauty is only here to clean up for all the ugliness of Ariel’s Skyscrapers”

Safe looked at him “Really Wisp? I never figured you for a lover of the outdoors. No wireless access? No roaming Cortex?”

“No I’ve had technology all my life. When this is all over and I can settle down It’ll be in the middle of nowhere” He wiped his forehead of the beads of sweat glistening upon it. “Though not here. Too Gorram Humid” The group shared a laugh like friends, as they approached a moth balls yard. A large barn stood in the centre of carcasses of a variety of ship types with the ones at the centre in better states of repair than those further out. The posse left the joviality aside and put on their game faces looking for signs of ambush.

The Firefly in question stood nearest the barn, its ramp down and a variety of cables and pipes connected inside and out. Overall Fireflies never looked terribly attractive but this one especially was battered and rusted. No bookie would give good odds of the thing even getting in the air and Wisp felt a brief pang of guilt that he’d brought them. A dirty hulk of a man appeared from the barn carrying a selection of tools about his person and a large pipe in his hands.

“Can I help Y’all folks?”

Wisp walked forward to shake the man’s hand “Hi the names Victor Lustig. I heard this Firefly was for sale but it doesn’t look too space worthy?”

“No No, it’s good to go!” The man couldn’t contain the shock on his face that someone had actually arrived “I wasn’t expecting anyone so soon. No its good to fly these are all just superficial. I can have her ready to be out of here in a day!”

“No chance of getting it faster?” Wisp tried not to seem too impatient. A day on Aeroes meant a day’s risk of discovery plus another day’s risk for Kyra. “We’re willing to help to get...acclimated, It’s been a while since I flew in such an old model firefly. What’s she called?”

“Funny story, the records say it was made special order with a sister ship originally called Huginn and Muginn by a company in new Oslo. But of course nobody speaks old Scandinavian anymore so it’s just been referred to as the Raven since then.”

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Friday, February 11, 2011 6:02 AM

OOC: Nice! But a word of warning... don't let Kaylee hear you bad-mouthing Fireflies. She'll hunt you down, fictional character or not :smile:

---

Wisp stood in the middle of the crowd. Ariel's inhabitants had been whipped into a frenzy and they, along with the soldiers that now pointed guns at Wisp and Vixen, stared at the criminals with vengeance in their eyes. Across the yard, the Mayor could be heard crying out in pain.

Quote:
Originally posted by WashsYoungerSexierBr: “I did that” Wisp said to the Guards “I just shot that pompous mayor like I shot all the guards on that podium without getting a scratch on me” The soldiers couldn’t decided if they or Wisp was crazy but decided that someone was. “You see I’m not just a man. I am the Avatar of Justice sent forth by the Mighty Thor himself. Don’t believe me?” Wisp threw his hands up in the air and shouted “Thunder and Lightning!”

Clayton paused the video, just at the point where light flashed up and engulfed the surrounding area.

Smoke bombs; flash grenades - nothing but cheap parlour tricks. But it was enough to scare the guards - they'd been infected by the same superstitious paranoia that marked the citizens of Ariel. Clayton wasn't a racist - he had nothing against the people of Ariel - but the truth was they followed religious rituals more than those on the outer rim. It was, after all, on this very world that the festivities of the major religions took place, notably during the winter solstice, for it was here that the Great Earth Tree had been planted - a tree that was honoured by Shepherds during their Christmas celebrations. It wasn't surprising then that William Spacer chose to use the crowd's superstitious beliefs against them.

Clayton had spent the last hour or so reading through the books on theology, reminding himself of things only glossed upon at school.

The Nordic Faith was what they called a New Age religion, for it was only after the Exodus that it took route in our culture. Although, to be fair, it was also one of the oldest, having its basis in ancient mythology from Earth-that-was. Back there, it was referred to as Norse Paganism.

Thor had been known as the God of Thunder, a powerful god that was worshipped thousands of years previously. But even prior to the Exodus, people on Earth viewed it as nothing more than a story - a tale that had been told and retold countless times. It was nothing more than that.

But then we reached our new worlds. It was said that a man named Jacob Fairfax, a man who belonged to the Odinic Rite and who would go on to form the Church of Forn Siðr (mostly referred to, perhaps derogatorily, as The Nordics), was a terraformer on Bellerophon back in the early days. The team of terraformers had found symbols in the rocks, and formations in the sand. Whilst many viewed it as strange, sure, they saw it as nothing more than a coincidence. But Fairfax saw something more. He saw meaning, he saw a message. What he found that day on the so-called uninhabited planet confirmed his faith in the power of the gods. It's what moved him to form the Church.

Clayton found it surprisingly fascinating.

As far as he could figure, The Church viewed those ancient stories from Earth as more than just tall tales of gods and demi-gods - they told of an ancient civilization long since lost, and pointed to a time in the future when they would be rediscovered.

Payne didn't believe in it - he wasn't that gullible - but he understood, more than he had before. A quote from Fairfax himself had been used in their religious texts:

Quote:
"Our leaders say this new system was a god-send and yet they ignore God. They say that humanity evolved by chance on Earth, and yet here - so far away - they deny that life could have once thrived on these planets too. Humanity denies the existence of things because they cannot see them. Well, on that day on the planet of the gods I saw signs and wonders, I saw symbols. This truth can't be denied any longer. Just as Odin would send his Ravens to look out beyond the land, to search for his people, I too have looked out and seen what lies beyond. I have seen the power of the gods, and they have left a message for us. And that message is that we're not alone. That they were here. And that whilst they have moved on for a time, they will find us again. They will return."

The passage continued on, but Clayton stopped reading as the words sent a chill up his spine.

Symbols, he thought to himself. They were a sign.

Clayton reached across the table and brought up on his computer screen the files of the immolations. He knew it wasn't his case anymore, but he'd suddenly recalled something that he'd ignored. He'd thought the symbols hidden on the base of the victim's necks were symbols of the resistance, a tattoo that would serve to identify a person loyal to the cause. But as he studied the images now and compared them to symbols found in his theology book, he realised he'd made a serious error. They were Norse symbols, undoubtedly printed on the necks after the fact. His boss was right, there was more to this case than he realised.

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Saturday, February 12, 2011 5:17 AM

Who we are depends on the outcome of the struggle between who we were and who we want to be

Upon reaching their destination on Albion, Kyra and Luthor had hired a Scuttler - a tall car with an oval shaped roof that from a distance might look like Humpty Dumpty on rollerskates. So far, the couple had been treated well - as if that was something to be unexpected. They'd been offered the vehicle without needing to book for it; the travel guide had pointed them in the best route to take and where the nice restaurants were; even the kind gentleman that helped Kyra with her bag had wished her well with a warm smile and a hand on her shoulder. Any other place, she might have felt uncomfortable, but now she'd known what it was like to be accepted, and that not all people that treated others with respect had a secret agenda. Little did she know that the kind gentleman in question had in fact placed a bug on her so that she might be tracked, should he lose sight of her. But fortunately for her, he was Clayton's man and he could be trusted. Unfortunately for him, the bug he'd placed on her worked but would only lead him to his death.

Kyra and Luthor reached the 415 less than an hour after leaving the Shuttle Yard. The road was sectioned off by police bands and saw a handful of tenacious reporters and curious citizens clinging close by. The burnt remnants of the long abandoned library were sectioned off with a second wall of police banding - this holographic wall prevented any from passing through with the say-so from the officers on guard.

Kyra showed her credentials to the enquiring officers that lingered on the 415 road which allowed the two of them to pass by the first band, but the second would possibly require some sweet talk... or intimidating threats... or both.

"Emma Roberts from The Wire," she said, flashing her ident card to the Officers standing by the wall, serious and erect. "I'm here to examine the scene."

The first man raised an eyebrow and looked at his comrade. The first man did all the talking out of the two of them. "Well it seems you wasted a trip Ms Roberts, nobody gets in here. Strict orders from the Crimson Squad."

Kyra scoffed and shook her head before turning to her partner, "Payne. Bet he's been here."

Luthor held his hand up to her, asking for her patience. "Please, let me," he told her before sidling up to the officer. "Luthor Mcnab, from Pi-Yeong Law on Xiansheng," he said flashing his own credentials. "We've been asked to examine the scene for the upcoming case."

The officer examined the card, nodding as he confirmed its legitimacy. "I'm sorry Mr Mcnab, but I've not received word from my superiors so I can't allow you access, no matter what pass you hold. It's a special request from the agent in charge."

"May i ask the Agent's name?" Luthor said, returning the card to his pocket.

"You can ask," the guard replied. "But I imagine you would already know that if you were here officially."

Luthor didn't like the man's attitude, nor his accusation that the two of them didn't belong them. Maybe it wasn't official, but the two of them wanted to help, they wanted to get to the bottom of this. "We don't represent the squad. We're here for the families of those involved."

"Well, in that case I'm sorry," the man replied. "But we only have permission to let in certain family members, ones who have been willing to co-operate with the investigation. And right now, the only one with any such permission is already in there. And she didn't say anything about bringing in a lawyer and a reporter."

"Who?" Kyra had just begun to ask before the door to the building, protected by the hologram band, opened. The answer to her question was revealed instantly, just as the young woman was guided by a third officer - completely suited up in Alliance blues - through the holographic band.

She spotted Kyra and Luthor straight away, and whilst Luthor was a stranger to her she recognised Kyra instantly, although it took her a few seconds to place her.

When it did, the young woman rolled her eyes at the sight of her. The Alliance officer nodded to his two comrades and asked them, "Is there a problem?"

The federal officer, that had previously speaking to the couple, in reply turned to Luthor. "You're here on behalf of the families, right?"

The man was almost mocking Luthor to his face, but he didn't let anger rise up in him. Instead Julie - the young woman that had joined them, the only daughter of Liam Torne - broke the silence.

"What are you doing here?" she said to Kyra, causing the officer to wipe the smile from his face. This couple did know the family after all.

"We just want to help," Kyra replied.

"Help?" Julie answered bitterly out of grief. "I'd say you've helped enough." And with that she stormed off, brushing past Kyra in the process. The reporter swiftly walked after her, calling her name whilst Luthor was left standing there alone with the officers. He smiled awkwardly, then immediately left, following Kyra as she went after the teenage girl.

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Friday, February 18, 2011 2:12 PM

Safe stood off to one side, sweat staining his shirt, and examined their new ship.

The Raven.

He liked the sound of it. ‘Course he never let himself get too attached. Ships come and go; it was the crew that was worth hanging on to. Ships can be replaced.

The man was right, it was space worthy. The various tubes and wires merely to recharge systems, but to the eye she looked a heap. The one thing that concerned him was the empty shuttle bays gaping black at him.

Words from the past echoed in his ears.

“For God’s sake you have to help us!” The ship drifted, its engines dead, shuttle bays dark and empty.

“We’re full up, we can’t take anymore,” the cold reply. Safe stood at the hatch, watching through the porthole as the Reaver ships closed the distance. His fingers tightened on his assault rifle. He remembered thinking ‘C’mon, try the engines again. Just keep trying.’ Other ships drifted, some venting atmosphere, others spinning like empty food containers. “You have to do something! We’re dead in the water here! There are women and children on board!”

Safe turned his eyes from the porthole as the Reaver’s grapples pierced the ship’s hull, his hands twisting noisy on the gun’s grip. They were a lone patrol ship, under gunned and over capacity. They had to run or be caught themselves. They have accepted several shuttles but there was just no more room.

“HELP US...”

A touch at his elbow scattered the ghosts of the past and he looked down at its origin. Seryn’s hand.

“I know where they are.” She said.

How could she...?

“They’re no use to us, or anyone, but the rats.” She continued. “No, they were just normal folk, farmers...” The confusion wrinkling Seryn’s brow stopped Safe mid sentence.

“I meant the shuttles, where were you?” She watched his eyes.

“Yea, I knew that.” Safe cleared his throat, looking everywhere but at Seryn. “I saw a fighter over there, maybe we could rig the shuttle bays to accommodate it, pick up a shuttle later for the other side.”

When he looked back at Seryn, she was still trying to read him. He shifted uncomfortably. “Well, the sooner we get this done, the better.” He offered her a smile before hurrying off. “Wisp! How do the systems on this bucket look?”

Check out my blog for info and updates on my novels http://drlong67.wordpress.com

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Monday, February 21, 2011 2:18 AM

Who we are depends on the outcome of the struggle between who we were and who we want to be

The city of Hera, a district so named in honour of that planet's first president, was one of the busiest and most densely populated on Albion (outside of the Capital) And yet, standing on the 415 - the main road that ran straight through the city and out again - one might never have guessed. The road had been sectioned off with a heavy Alliance presence, who remained even now - a day after the suspicious deaths at the abandoned library. The road was practically empty of shoppers and tourists, barely a citizen's vehicle in sight.

But amidst the blues and bands, three individuals in casual clothing paced down the empty road in single file, one chasing after the other.

"Julie," Kyra called out, trotting down the middle of the white paved road. The teenage girl ignored her, just as the Alliance officers likewise did the same, allowing the situation to play out without their interference.

"Hey," Kyra said, catching up to the girl who walked at a steady pace. "We only just heard, we thought we could help."

"Help?" Julie snapped suddenly, stopping dead in the street and turning to face the reporter. "Did you do this?! Did you get him involved in something?"

"What?" Kyra gasped, shocked at the accusation. "No, I just heard..."

Luthor had caught up by now and stood by Kyra's side, opposite from Julie. "You with them?" the girl asked, ignoring the large man that stood beside them. "The... you know." The girl knew better than to mention Special Branch in public.

"No," Kyra answered shaking her head. "I haven't seen them. We don't... That's not my life anymore."

Julie remained unconvinced and now looked the reporter's "friend" up and down. He seemed well built, enough to be mistaken for a fighter. But then again, he could just as easily be mistaken for a federal officer... had he not already been refused access to the crime scene. The girl figured that maybe Kyra was telling the truth.

"Then what are you doing here?" Julie asked dubiously.

"I told you," Kyra answered.

"What can you do? I mean, how can you help?" The girl asked. She didn't believe there was anything that could be done, short of finding who was responsible and meeting out justice. But even that... Julie Torn was almost nineteen years old and already she'd seen and experienced more horrors than others would their entire lives. She knew better than to imagine there was any real justice in this verse. But still, she wanted to believe that there was.

Kyra nodded sympathetically and gazed at the girl. Kyra had been through a lot too, even before meeting the last remaining free members of the resistance.

"We're going to find out happened..." Kyra began before Julie interrupted

"How is that..."

"We've got access to newsfeeds," Kyra cut in before Julie could finish. "I work with The Wire now, officially, and Luthor here's with the law," she said nodding towards her partner. "We can help get to the bottom of this."

Julie remained unconvinced. She honestly felt admiration for the couple in coming down, but she'd been down this road once before, a couple years back. The ones responsible back then were never brought to justice, and she couldn't imagine this turning out any different.

"Listen, Julie," Kyra started again. "I know you might not believe us but we can help. We want to. Your father was a good man, a great man. He accomplished a lot."

"Not enough," Julie said bitterly, her head down.

"Maybe if we dig through this," Kyra said reaching out and placing her hand on the girl's arm, close to her elbow. "Maybe we can do some good too."

Again, Julie found it hard to believe that any real good could be done. But she liked Kyra, as defensive as she had been towards her, Kyra had embraced her during their trouble a couple of years ago. And as strong as Julie liked to pretend she was, she needed somebody else by her side. She was growing weary of doing this on her own.

"Okay," Torne's daughter said nodding.

"Yeah?" Kyra repeated back with a smile as she wrapped a comforting arm around the girl's waist. "Ok. Let's go for a walk."

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Monday, February 28, 2011 12:01 PM

Agent Benjamin Kilgare waved his pass through the scanner and walked through the door as it slid open for him. The records room looked as if it was shaped like a dome, but it was just an illusion created by the strange lighting combined with the odd hexagonal designs on the walls. In reality, the records room was located beneath the offices, a singular room that stretched out the length and width of the building, broken up by filing cabinets, computer storage systems and work stations. Clayton Payne sat at one such station, the lights from the walls catching him in a spotlight whilst his face was lit up by a dozen monitors, each showing him a different image.

"Sir," Kilgare said as he approached - his unannounced arrival not startling the man in the slightest, "I brought you a drink."

"Thanks," Payne said to the young agent before instructing him to "Set it aside."

The majority of the screens showed footage from interviews, many of them imprisoned Special Branch operatives, conducted by the Squad or one of its affiliate organisations - the Crimson Guard (responsible for securing said prisoners) - but there were three other screens that pictured something else. 1. Footage taken from a satellite monitoring a unknown sector of space. 2. A screenshot of test results, eight in total (taken from the Special Branch subjects) and 3. Blurred video footage of what looked to be Bernard Needham leaving a house.

“I thought they re-assigned this,” Kilgare said, spotting a printed copy of a photo sitting on the workstation - a photo of a man's charred remains.

“What, you spying on me agent?” Clayton said, his tone sidling the line between serious and joking.

“I… uh,” Kilgare stammered.

“Relax,” Payne said, “I’m not stepping on anybody’s toes. I just can’t ignore the facts.”

“Facts?” Kilgare said, taking a seat in the swivel chair behind Payne.

“It’s connected,” Payne stated very clearly. “They got me down here running checks on these guys, and yet the more I looked into it, the more I keep coming back to the murders.”

“What do you mean?”

“These symbols,” Payne says pointing at the photographs. “They mean Valhalla”

“Valhalla? I don’t know what that…”

“It’s ancient, relates to the religion of the Nordics. I think these deaths, I think the one responsible believes they’re acting out on behalf of a god or gods.”

Kilgare is sceptical. “I thought you said you weren’t investigating these.”

“I’ve looked them up. They think they’re waiting for a sign. They’re waiting for the heavens to open up and deliver salvation. They’re waiting for the gods to return. The writings say that in that day, the skies will turn purple and they will cross from the other side.”

“So…” Kilgare started to say again before Payne reached over to one of the monitors and pressed the play function.

The footage was taken from the G34 Satellite, pointing out a thousand stars. But within three seconds of the video, the image flashed bright white, and when it returned to normal, the stars looked purple. Then three space craft emerged from what seemed to be out of nowhere, a large ISSCV vessel, a firefly class ship and a small fighter craft. The ships hung there in the sky momentarily, as if everything was normal, and they began to embark onward.

“What the hell was that?” Kilgare asked, astonished.

“Depends who you ask,” Payne answered. “The vessels have since been marked as belonging to one Seth Franklin, a Seryn Antares, and one Marshall Washburne.”

“The fugitives? Kilgare said, astonished. “How did they do that?”

“That’s a hell of a question, and I’m guessing its exactly the same one that got whoever’s responsible for the burnings interested. If that was the only strange thing surrounding these people, well that would be something on its own. But weird gose seems to follow them around, and now, I’m guessing, they got someone new on their tail. Someone that thinks they’re not just a team of fighters. But that they’re something else altogether.”

Payne stood up, and took in the sight of a dozen screens all at once, hoping that by doing so he might see the big picture. “He thinks he’s setting them free.”

“Who?” Kilgare asked.

“The one orchestrating all of this,” Payne answered clearly.

“You think it’s Needham?” Kilgare asked. “You think he’s behind this?”

Payne squinted his eyes as he stared at the screens, focussing his attention on the footage of Needy leaving the girl’s house. Shaking his head slightly, he answers, “I’m not so sure anymore. I thought he had lost his mind, and that the girl’s death was just the beginning. But her neck was snapped. If he did do it… why not burn her like the rest?”

“Maybe he didn’t have time, or maybe there’s something different about the others. Maybe their deaths are more personal, its why he goes through the ritual,” the young agent said, desperately trying to validate his reason for being there by throwing in his own theories.

Payne shook his head again, but said nothing as he pondered over the young agent’s theories. Then, finally, he answered, “No… I mean, I don’t know. But I do think we need to find him before anybody else does. Something tells me he’s key to the group’s plans whether he knows it or not.”

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Tuesday, March 01, 2011 6:06 AM

Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges

Most people don’t think about it but Water is one of the key problems on any space ship. Never mind that the crew need to drink the stuff but a lot of the chemistry that happens in an engine either makes it or needs it in order to work. Add to that a lot of pressurisation and coolant systems and water becomes a real pain to organise in a lot of engines. And then there’s rust. Let an engine sit for a while and joints, hinges and valves throughout the engine just start to oxidise and seize up. This was Wisp was looking at, sure the engine was intact but by Jove it was full of rust. The cure was a full flush with a nice strong Acidic reductant which Wisp was currently pumping through the engine but he couldn’t do much else till the pipes were nice and shiny again.

His next port of call was electrics, from what he could tell when the engine was loosened up it should power everything but for now he had to test everything from external batteries. As this was an old model Firefly he didn’t expect to find an advanced engine management computer that the later models have but he was surprised to find the electrics were much more advanced than he imagined. In fact the system was akin to that of high end shuttles and crusiers. Pulling up the schematics he found that the engine he had so quickly wrote off as a old ball of rust was actually highly designed. This was definitely not some factory line Firefly, it was tuned for power and efficiency. Multiple valves, Exhaust Plasma recycling these were modifications saved for advanced ships not old fireflies. Wisp began to think he was finally getting lucky dropping on a ship like this, Maybe somebody upstairs had decided to cut him a break.

He spooled up the cortex and his good mood was quickly shattered. All over the news cycles were articles on mass rebel arrests and executions. His name was up there connected to some of them. ‘Key associates’ it said, Wisp had never heard of them. There was one name he noticed mentioned, someone from back at the academy. A friend who’d actually been hard core pro alliance, they used to have heated debates (some may have called them arguments) about the role of government intervention. They had hung out a lot despite their differences; he was definitely not a rebel supporter. Yet here they were executing him for terrorism, what if they were all like that?

Wisp punched the wall just as Safe walked in: “Wisp! How do the systems on this bucket look?” He took a double take at the anger flowing out of Wisp “Hey whats up?”

“Have you seen the cortex? Mass arrests, they’re scapegoating people saying they’re connected to us. They’re killing em too. Just people we might have bumped into.”

Safe walked across and skimmed through some of the articles, he didn’t show it as openly as Wisp but there seemed to be a few names passing by that he half recognised. “This is trouble. We’re gonna have to lay low, keep out of sight.”

“Lay Low? Aren’t you just Gorram Sick of it though? People are dead. They’re rounding up and killing innocent people because of us! Doesn’t it just make you wanna... Arrr” Wisp Kicked a pile of junk in the corner, teeth grinding, fist clenching fury rolled over him.

“I Get it Wisp, I get it. They’ll always be killing people for some made up reason. It’s not our fault, what they’re saying about us isn’t true.”

Wisp paused for a moment and took a deep breath. “What if we made it true?”

Safe raised an eyebrow and shot a sceptical look “What you talking about?”

“They keep saying we’re ring leaders in some sort of rebel movement, and yea we skimmed past the resistance a lot but never really got involved we always had too much heat on our own asses. But what if did start rebelling? Between us we’ve definitely got the skills and we just showed back on Ariel we’ve got the moves. We’re always reacting to what the Alliance do to us, let’s start doing some damage. Let’s show em they can’t control the people like this?”

“Wisp it’s a mighty fine idea this bloodying the Alliance nose but there’s just not enough of us. And we have no Idea where Soul has respawned and Kyra might be in trouble herself and God knows where Needy is”

“But we just showed we don’t need numbers. We were ridiculously outnumbered back on Ariel and we won...”

“We nearly got our asses blown off”

“Yea but we all arrived separately if we work together we can do it”

“What exactly did you have in mind?”

“Nothing yet i’m just brainstorming. Let’s find Kyra and then I’ll come up with a plan. Something worthy of what the Alliance has been lying about us”

OOC- Sorry for the delayed posting of late im neck deep in my thesis. If anyone wants to know about Zinc finger proteins let me know!

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Friday, March 11, 2011 12:17 AM

Who we are depends on the outcome of the struggle between who we were and who we want to be

Kyra and Julie chatted for over an hour, sitting on a bench that overlooked the downtown park, whilst Luthor stood by a tree, allowing the women to chat in private. It may not have been needed, but it had been his experience that people like Julie responded better chatting to a peer, one on one, than a man like himself, and so he gave them their space. The girl told Kyra that she hadn’t spoken to her father in a while, more than six months. He’d become “obsessed”, the girl told her, “paranoid,” and his life had been focussed on what he now saw as his “primary objective.” He’d told her that family was still the most important thing in his life but she hadn’t bought it, especially since he seemed intent on pushing them away, driving a wedge in their relationship whenever possible. He didn’t trust her new boyfriend Michael, he made the point pretty clear. But he didn’t trust anyone. She understood why, but it didn’t mean she had to accept it. And when her father had asked her to make a choice - loyalty to him, or to her “current fling” as he called it - he’d pushed her away enough to make the decision an easy one.

Six Months Ago. Torne Home at Greenacres, Albion: Julie threw items into a large bag - clothes, shoes, books - whilst her father watched from the doorway, his face stern.

“Listen, baobei, I’m sorry,” he told her. “I’m sorry, but you know how important this work is.”

“It’s your work, not mine,” she told him as she threw a photo viewer into her bag. “What’s important to me is Linda… and Michael.”

Liam bit his lip. “You know, if you go down this route, I can’t protect you.”

“Protect me?” she scoffed, as she zipped the bag up and threw it over her shoulder before picking up another, already packed, bag up from behind the bed. “You can barely protect yourself. Too busy looking over your shoulder.” She walked towards the doorway and stopped beside him, saying, “And we all know who’s fault that is.” She storms past him and he can’t help but follow. “The company I keep…” he begins, hoping to validate his actions but she doesn’t need to hear it. “Is not my concern,” she butts in. “Not anymore.”

Liam stops, contemplating whether she has told anyone of his arrangements, or whether she would in the future. His connections with Special Branch was something he couldn’t afford to let slip out, not during these difficult times. “What do you tell Michael?” he asks, concerned of what information she does share. “Relax,” she says with a harsh tone, “I’m not going to rat you out, if that’s all you’re worried about.”

“You might think he’s there for you, and you alone,” Liam says. “But you’d be surprised how much one picks up just from sleeping in the same bed.” “Oh and you know all about that,” she said bitingly. “You think cos you’re my father that I will make the same mistakes as you. He’s not her.” Liam bites his lip. “You don’t know him.” “No, you didn’t know her, that’s all this is about. Is that why you’re running this campaign too? You think fixing this verse will fix your life? You think what you do amounts to anything? Did Gabriella’s little job accomplish one gorram thing?” Liam sighed. The first time he’d heard her show the same disrespect for his house and the first lady he’d snapped at her, almost hit her, but he knew that would do him no good now. He had no answer for her, none that he could deliver with any success “What’s it gonna take for you to open your eyes?” She said again, continuing to berate him as she made her way down the stairs and towards the door. When she was a few steps away from her exit, she turned and faced him “You can‘t change the system, you‘re wasting your time” The words pained him to his core, not because she was wrong, but because he’d been telling himself the same thing for years, but he’d refused to back down, he refused to give in. To admit defeat was to surrender ones rights, to ignore the great atrocities that were being committed in secret. Julie’s words hurt him, but not as much as what she told him next, what would come to be the last words he‘d ever hear from her. “I can’t,” she said, her voice and energy exhausted. “I can’t waste my life away living under this house anymore, you’re suffocating us all.” And with that she left.

Present. Albion, downtown.

“Liam, your father,” Kyra said. “You think he was helping the others, the group?”

“Oh I know it,” she said. “Maybe not directly, but he was trying all sorts to get certain ones released from containment, had one or two running checks on certain government facilities, trying to determine what business they had. Mostly they were warehouses, I think some training centres, and some human programming labs. It was gathering information mostly, something they could use for I guess the next big attack on the establishment.”

“Whatever happened to the mission? I thought that once we got all of you planetside, he was going to use the man that you had with you, Fifteen was it?”

“Janti…” she nodded. “Well I guess things don’t ever work out like you expect them to do they?” She said, eyeing Luthor, standing across from them.

Kyra follows the girl‘s glaze and stares across at Luthor too, “No, I guess they don’t.”

“Whatever happened to him?” Julie asked, braving the question she’d been side-stepping the whole time.

“Who?” Kyra asked, even though she knew damn well who the girl was referring to.

“Needy?” the girl asked cautiously.

“He…” Kyra thought it over and chose her words carefully, “he’s still around somewhere, but I couldn’t live that life anymore.”

“With them?” Julie asked

“Yeah,” she said absently.

“And what about him - Luthor - you think he can really find out what happened, who did this?”

“Well he’s law, but you said that the Crimson Squad had taken over on the case?” Kyra asked

“Yeah. But, I’ve gotta be honest, I’ve moved around a lot and I can’t say I’ve heard of them, not even when working with my father.”

“They’re a specialist group, normally work on high profile cases that others are ill-prepared to handle.”

“You mean, like assassinations?”

“Honestly? I’m thinking there’s more to the case than they’re saying. Maybe it’s not the first time they’ve seen something like this.”

Julie leaned forward. “What are you talking about? You think… you think this was random?”

“No…” Kyra told her straight off. “Not at all. But it’s hard to say without knowing all the facts.”

“You want me to get you in there don’t you?”

“I don’t know, maybe. But I can’t say that necessarily will help much. Not if the Squad are over this. They probably won’t let you back in there if they think you might have an agenda.”

“I’m from the presidential family, Albion maybe, but still presidential.”

“I don’t think your name will get you much further, not with these people.”

“You know them?”

“They’ve approached me in the past," Kyra divulged

“Then what do you know about them?”

Kyra thinks the words over in her head a while, pulls at her phone from her pocket and stares at it. Finally, she tells the girl, “You know what, maybe I can get us in there after all.”

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Friday, March 11, 2011 12:50 AM

NEEDY

The road to Hel is paved with good intentions

OOC: Hey. I figured its about time I pulled Kyra's story in with the rest of the crew but how i do it depends on what you all want to do with the main story. I set up the murders of ones connected with Special Branch as a way of getting Kyra back into the game but is this a story you wanted to carry on for a while - namely recognising that ones connected to Special Branch are in danger so that means not only the crew, but those that are currently imprisoned? I thought it could be a good story to follow in having the crew go on different missions to break certain resistance fighters out of prison (perhaps in the hopes of using them to fight back against the larger enemies). In which case, maybe the crew could follow the lead of the murders and find Kyra that way. If not, then i'll wrap the current story up with Kyra and then have her track down the crew soon. I know we've got Ciaran and Soul's story too, so prob best I don't have Kyra running off in the opposite direction

Also, would it be worth setting up a separate thread on the site to discuss where we want to take the story and characters, or maybe just a separate group on facebook or something

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Saturday, March 19, 2011 12:22 PM

OOC: Just got back from vacation... well, ok a week away. From my point of view, I'm ok following an established storyline. I have a feeling it will take this story from great to fantastic. I don't have a storyline in mind so I'm ok with following yours and fitting Safe in where needed. Same goes with WISP and Soul's storylines or even if Seryn or Kurren have a storyline. All have left me slack-jawed in awe. A separate thread to discuss where the story goes or Facebook or even e-mail, sounds like a good idea as well (thanks Channain).

Check out my blog for info and updates on my novels http://drlong67.wordpress.com

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Thursday, March 24, 2011 4:12 AM

Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges

With the ship finally in the sky Wisp took the first shift in the cockpit. Nobody had had any real sleep since that fateful day on Ariel and the strain was beginning to show. Everyone seemed pretty thankful to be on a ship that wasn’t wanted by the feds and enjoying a short whiff of freedom. Wisp of course knew they weren’t free. The paths they could take were still being directed by the Alliance. People were still dying under a banner of peace and a name of war.

But freedom was relative. Vixen no longer stood on a gallows, but Kyra might have a gun to her head. Last they’d heard she was on Xiangsheng but Wisp was scouring the cortex for more info. In his time away he’d built himself a fine computer system for doing grunt work like this but he hadn’t exactly been able to pack properly. So he was doing all of it manually behind about seven proxys and firewalls to prevent the information being traced. As he expected there was very little to go on, Kyra had covered he tracks well.

All of a sudden a message came through on his cortex terminal. This immediately scared Wisp as nobody should have been able to trace anything. Opening the text it read.

Look on Albion Name of Emma Roberts

Friends

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Wednesday, March 30, 2011 6:24 AM

Clayton Payne had his obligations, to the job, to his father, but most of all to Kyra, even if she didn’t realise it. As strained as their friendship was, she was the only real friend he had. As far as he was concerned, everybody else were just acquaintances, at best. His man in grey, the contact he had occasionally had dealings with, was one such acquaintance. He certainly wasn’t a friend, he hadn‘t even given the reporter a real name, instead he called himself “Robinson“. That was all anybody needed to know, as far as the man in grey was concerned. Robinson didn’t have friends, just clients. He wasn’t an imposing man to look at, even though underneath his plain clothes there was a well toned body. He was clean shaven but his hair was neither neat nor scruffy. He was just another face in the park as far as Luthor was concerned. Not even he paid him much attention. Blending in was just part of the man in grey’s job description. Clayton received the call in the morning, about an hour after Kilgare had left to pick up some “things” from the office. Recognising the ID, Payne clipped his disrupter to the bottom of his phone before answering. He trusted nobody could hack into the tech the CS had provided him with, but he still wasn’t convinced his superiors weren’t listening in. And he just wasn’t sure if he could trust them yet. He still doubted whether they truly trusted him, despite his apparent promotion.

“It’s me,” the man in grey said over the line. Clayton didn’t need much more information than that, the caller’s voice was instantly recognisable - as deep and monotone as it was. “I’m downtown at a park.”

“You still at Hera?” Payne asked, glancing over his shoulder to make sure he was still alone in the basement.

“Still here,” the man confirmed. “They’re still with Torne’s girl. Been talking for a while.”

“About Torne?” Payne asked.

“Couldn’t say for sure,” the man admitted. “But that would be my guess.”

“Do your job,” Payne told him clearly. “I ain’t paying you to take in the sights.”

The man in grey smirked to himself. But the man had no sense of humour, he only smiled when something didn’t sit right. And client or not, Payne’s orders were out of line. “You pay me to watch her, I’m watching her.”

Payne got up from his seat and moved away. He was sure he was speaking in private, but the simple notion of talking under the lights made him feel on show. He made his way to the far wall, comforted by the shadows that were cast upon him by the tall filing cabinets. “You’re paid to make sure she’s safe,” he clarified to the man. “And I would think a man such as yourself would find out all he could to make sure the subject in question isn’t putting herself in unnecessary danger.”

The man on the other side was quiet for a moment, uncharacteristically so.

“Robinson, you hear me?” Payne pushed after a moment.

“Yeah,” the man said in a hushed tone. Evidently he had made his way closer to the young woman. “She’s making a call.”

“Kyra?” Payne asked. “Who she calling?”

“How would I know?” Robinson answered back.

Payne rolled his eyes and was about to tell him to find out what she was saying, when a beeping interrupted him. He ignored it at first, but then, baffled pulled the phone away from his ear.

INCOMING CALL lit up in the corner. As Clayton tapped the screen, he saw that it was indeed Kyra trying to connect with him.

Payne pulled the phone back to his ear, abruptly told his man to “cool off” and that he’d “get back to him,” and hung up. Then, without any more delay, he promptly accepted Kyra’s call.

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Friday, April 01, 2011 12:37 AM

Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges

Professor Trepsil sat at his monitor trembling in the lamp light. He’d never been happy with Alliance policy but he’d never openly defied it, well until now. Ever since the bust back on Silvermoon a few years back the Crimson Squad were getting more and more irate about Wisp. And now with the Ariel incident; well they were fuming. He’d been sat in the conference room with the Brass as the whole thing turned to Gosa. The Generals had started barking execution orders like bar tabs each one raging at another’s bad decision. Trepsil had just sunk into the darkness hoping nobody would see fit to take him outside and shoot him.

Out of all his research Wisp was his prized achievement. The Crimson Squad had first seen him as an interesting experiment but now he was a stagnant blister on the skin of their shining record. They would stop at nothing to bring him in and make him pay for his defiance. Wisp was doing what Trepsil dared not. Trepsil had seen his dreams and research twisted and corrupted in front of his eyes but stood back and did nothing. Then Wisp came along and did the defiance for him, but now Wisp needed some help. Trepsil had only met the boy in person for about an hour all those years ago but now he was his unknown protégé.

Trepsil had been cautiously looking through Wisps file; the Generals had given him full access years ago and never sought to revoke it. He didn’t know what he was after precisely, just something that would help Wisp. It was then he came across the gentleman Clayton Payne researching areas very close to Wisp. A series of murders that really had nothing to do with Wisp apart from the same names kept cropping up as in Wisps files. One of the recent appendices was a surveillance project on an Emma Roberts (Kyra McTaggert) on Albion, If CS were watching her then perhaps she was in danger. He should let Wisp know. But how?

Wisp could be anywhere in the verse? But Trepsil knew Wisp better than anyone he knew how he acted and behaved. He remembered from his files he often scanned the lower than recommended bands of comm waves. Because of his augmented mental functions he could see patterns in the static. So Trepsil could send a message but where to? He paused to think like Wisp. He’d be running, But not as fast nor as far as he could because that would bring suspicion, A quick trot out of Ariel space, Common sense dictates he’d head for the rim to escape Alliance patrols, however Alliance patrols would be filling the rim now to find him so he’d head into the core. Picking a suitable area of space Trepsil encrypted the message and posted it like a bottle in the tides.

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Friday, April 01, 2011 1:04 AM

Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges

“Whats up Wisp” Safe yawned entering the cockpit of the Raven “I hope this interrupting of my rack time won’t become a habit”

“We’re compromised. Just got this message through on the Comms. It was buried deep in the static and from the looks of things directed from a comm buoy in only this area.”

“Wisp I’ve been awake a whole eighteen seconds you’re gonna have to talk me through why this is important for a minute.”

“For starters not many people would look that deep into the static range and even fewer would pick up the signal in there. So this isn’t Alliance. The resistance sometimes use this depth of signal but the encryption isn’t one of their styles. It actually looks like something I would do so I think it was sent for me.”

“Narcissistic much, but go on”

“Next is the signal propagation. Its shortwave which means the person who sent it knows where we are”

Safe began to sober up at this point “So you’re telling me this ship is compromised already? Fesu we need to ditch this thing at the next port and switch again”

“Safe, I don’t think the ship is compromised at all and I don’t think the message was sent by the bad guys. I looked into the message content. This Emma Roberts became remarkable more active just about the time we left Santos. It’s covered but It looks like an identity switch and I’d bet a Penny to a Platinum its Kyra.”

“So you’re saying some mysterious person knows where we are and has given us a tip-off as to where we can find the person we were planning on saving? Forgive me for saying but if it looks too good to be true...”

“Duly noted but it’s sound information. I say we change course to Albion and keep a low profile. The ship isn’t marked yet and Albion isn’t going to be a hub of Alliance activity.”

“Sounds like a plan. Now go and get some time horizontal”

“My watch isn’t over for a few hours yet”

“Yea well i’m up now so go and get some sleep.”

“I shan’t argue twice” Wisp stood up and began walking back to the crew quarters “Safe”

“Yea?”

“It’s good to be back”

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Saturday, April 02, 2011 6:45 PM

OOC: Nice job, Wisp!

"Yeah, it is, isn't it?" Safe let a smile slide over his face as he dropped into the pilot's chair.

Wisp grinned back at him.

"Aren't you suppose to be getting somewhere?"

"Night... captain." Wisp slid down the stairs and walked the short distance to his quarters.

Safe spun the chair around and gazed out at the stars. As much as the title captain chafed on him and brought back memories he preferred left in the black, there was a comfortable feel to it. Like slipping into an old leather flight jacket. Sure there was a weight to it, but it was a familiar weight.

Safe watched the stars hang there like they weren't moving and thought that if nothing else happened, he'd be happy right here. A good crew... scratch that, one of the best crews he'd worked with, a good ship and a purpose. That was something he just now realized he had been missing, a purpose. For good or bad, he had a purpose.

Safe keyed up the cortex and surfed the news. Somewhere there was a hint, a slip up, something that would give them away, a mere crumb, but that was all he'd need.

Somewhere out there Kyra was looking for them, but more importantly, Soul and Needy were too.

The past needed seeing to.

Check out my blog for info and updates on my novels http://drlong67.wordpress.com

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Sunday, April 03, 2011 12:30 PM

CIARAN

I'm not even sure who the real me is anymore...

She was scared, more than she had ever been before. Kurren had scared her, the Expendables had scared her, Blue Sun had scared her, but nothing compared to this. Survival was one thing. She was good at that, surviving. All of the tests, all of the forced deceit, she could deal with all that.

This was something totally different.

For a very long time, she hadn't cared what anyone thought of her. Not until Marshall, and then after Kurren had taken her, she didn't care about anyone elses opinion of her. But this man, these people...for some reason, she cared what they thought.

With a deep breath, she slid quietly from her hiding place and made her way through the ship, finally stepping onto the bridge.

"Hello Safe," Ciaran said, her voice quavering. "I'm here to help." As Safe spun around, she quickly added, "Please don't kill me."

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Tuesday, April 05, 2011 6:45 AM

OOC: Great posts!

---

“I wasn‘t expecting to hear from you anytime soon,” Clayton Payne said into his phone. The disruptor may have been set and he was, as far as he was aware, alone in the basement. But even so, he knew better than to mention Kyra’s name, especially in a place like this. Her devotion to her former friends and outright rejection of the Crimson Squad’s offer didn’t exactly make her a friend of the agents in the building. But Payne had never let that stop him from talking to her, or feeling the overwhelming need to protect her. Despite all the things that had happened over the past three years or so, Kyra had been his partner and friend. That would never change.

“You hear about Torne?” Kyra asked him directly, skipping right over small talk.

“Who?” Clayton said, feigning ignorance. Kyra didn’t buy it for a second.

“Liam Torne. Your friends have sectioned off the crime scene.”

“You’re on Albion?” Clayton answered back. This time she did buy his ignorance.

“Listen,” she told him simply. “I need you to cut me in here. Get my name on the list. Let me see the scene.”

Clayton laughed in disbelief and shook his head. “You want me to…” He stopped himself. This was no joke, he’d seen the bodies and knew what Kyra was like. His tone turned serious. “You need to leave, get away from that place. It’s not safe.”

Kyra made a scoffing sound down the line, “Safe? What is safe anymore?” She almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. The fact that she was in a public park, with the sun beating down on her whilst children played sports only a short distance away could have made her feel safe, or comfortable. But the truth was she wasn’t. She hadn’t felt “comfortable” for a long time. And she was getting tired of hearing Clayton accuse her of any such attitude.

“Listen, I know a man there,” Clayton began, conjuring up another story. “I can have him meet you, make sure you’re okay.”

“I don’t need watching over,” she told him. “I need you to do as I ask. You know I’m going to do it anyway, but it’d be better if you were on my side with this one, backing me up. Like you used to.”

“Kyra,” Clayton said with a sigh, forgetting himself for a moment. He quickly snapped his head up and looked around the large room, making sure nobody was eavesdropping on his conversation.

But Kyra McTaggert wasn’t a fool, she knew that there was more that Payne wasn’t letting on. “What aren’t you saying?” she asked. “You know who’s behind this?” And then, anticipating his answer, “And if you say Bernie I’m going to track you down and beat you with your phone.”

“No, it’s not…” Clayton tried to explain. “I can’t tell you over the phone. Truth is, I shouldn’t tell you anything. But all you need to know is this thing is bigger than just one murder, it’s bigger than Torne or Bernie or any of that.”

Kyra was quiet for a while, taking it all in and then answered in a way that Payne hadn’t expected, nor Kyra herself. “You think Bernie’s clean?”

“What?” Payne asked, but Kyra was reluctant to say the words again. “Did you think he was behind it?” Payne put to her plainly.

Again, Kyra was reluctant to answer. She had tried not to think about it, but the truth was it was a notion that had taken up space in her subconscious nonetheless.

“Kyra,” Clayton said her name again, only this time he barely acknowledged his error. “I know I’ve not made this easy for you and I can’t lie and say I know what you’ve been through, but this is serious. Maybe you’ve got your doubts about him but this is bigger than him, or any one man. You can’t be there. Please, for my sake, for Luthor’s, don’t keep digging. Let me do my job and I swear to you, if I find anything, I’ll talk to you. But you can’t be showing your face there. It’s not safe for you or any of them.”

“What is it? Who did this?” Kyra demanded from him.

“I don‘t lnow,” he tried to explain.

“But you know something,“ she interjected. “Tell me Payne, what aren’t you saying?”

Payne bit his lip hard but didn’t flinch. He was frustrated. He could tell her and lose his job. Or he could stand his ground and risk losing her forever. The former choice he could live with, unless they killed him for it. But he couldn’t see pass the latter. He didn’t want to.

“I think they’re targeting the group,” he confessed finally. “Your friends, anybody who has ever stood out as… special.”

“Special?” she repeated absently.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Payne told her. “And maybe he can take care of himself but you don’t have his gift, neither do the others.”

“The others?” Kyra said, again thinking out loud. She knew who he meant.

“Like I said, you need to get away from there in case whoever’s responsible is watching.”

“And what about the others?” Kyra put to him.

“What matters is your safety,” Clayton replied without hesitation. In hindsight, maybe he ought to have shown a little consideration for the rest of the crew, but the truth was Kyra was his only concern.

There was a long silence on the phone. The only sound Payne heard over the line was the distant voices of strangers talking and laughing; those inhabitants of Albion that had no idea what was going on under their noses. And then she broke the silence with a promise that would seal her fate.

“No. I’m not hiding anymore.” And with that she hung up.

Payne tried to call her back the moment she disconnected the call. But she never answered. And when he tried to call Robinson instead, his phone was unresponsive too. Someone had already blocked the call.

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Tuesday, April 05, 2011 11:05 AM

Safe, feet up on the consol, hands clasped behind his head, gazed out at the black. The ship, silent except for the occasional creak or groan.

A footfall behind him, had him grinning, "Wisp, get some slee.." He looked over his shoulder mid sentence and the person standing there caused his words to freeze in shock, but not his gun hand.

Quote:
"Hello Safe," Ciaran said, her voice quavering. "I'm here to help."

Safe's feet hit the deck, gun leaping to his hand.

Quote:
As Safe spun around, she quickly added, "Please don't kill me."

The gun barrel rockstead with a bead on the spot between her eyebrows, Safe growled, "give me one good reason. Scratch that, you had better give me a lot of VERY good reason."

Ciaran slowly raised her hands and took a tentative step backwards before swallowing and straightening her shoudlers. She pointed her chin defiantly back at him, "I didn't come here to fight you, I need your help. I'm..." She paused as she rolled the next words around in her mouth. "I'm throwing myself at your mercy."

"That so? I've got a better idea, how 'bout I throw your lying, backstabbing ass out the airlock. You can plead your case from out there."

Safe reached above his head and keyed the comm, "Wisp, Seryn, I need you on the bridge please."

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Sunday, April 10, 2011 10:35 PM

Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges

Wisp had just got into his room and was ready to flop onto the bed when the intercom chimed into his room:

Quote:
"Wisp, Seryn, I need you on the bridge please."

“Jesus what now?” For Safe to get us up it must be something serious, he’d been sat on the bridge barely two minutes ago so he doubted a ship was on sensors. Maybe a tech problem? Engines playing up or something? Neverminding the reason Wisp dragged himself back up the ladder into the gangway.

Immediately he saw the silhouette of a woman approaching Safe in the pilot’s seat. In one fluid motion he leapt the last few rungs and drew his firearm landing in a steady crouch ready to place a bullet between this girls shoulder blades.

“HANDS HIGH” He shouted. “Safe what do we know?”

“Our friend Ciaran here thinks we’re owing her some sort of favour. I'm thinking we owe her a few things but a favour aint among em”

“I owe her a nice fat choking session personally.” Vixen had appeared behind Wisp grinning with too much psychosis to feel comfortable around when Seryn finally arrived on the scene.

“For gods sake you all I know shes hardly the Saint Monicarla but lets actually listen to her before you all turn her into a sieve. Please Ciaran tell us your story.”

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Monday, April 11, 2011 4:08 AM

Clayton’s phone rang and without so much as checking the screen for an id, the man instantly accepted the call and brought it to his ear. “Robinson?” he said hastily, the name bouncing off the walls and echoing across the large room

“Payne,” the man on the other line answered. The voice was formal and his tone direct and it didn’t belong to Clayton’s man. “Where are you?” The voice on the other end of the line asked, only it wasn’t really a question, it was an order. An order from Mr Green, the man Clayton answered to. “Sir,” Payne replied, somewhat sheepishly. “I’m in the records room.”

“I want a report,” the man said clearly.

“I’m working on it,” Payne answered as he looked across the floor-space. He heard one of the doors open and close. He was no longer alone in there.

“No,” Green told him. “I want a report now. I want you in my office.”

Footsteps neared and as the figure approached, Payne realised his visitor was none other than the young Agent Kilgare, who had returned from the office, complete with briefcase.

“Now?” Payne said down the line, but he did not dare wait for his superior to repeat himself. “I’m on my way sir,” he told him. And with that Green disconnected the call.

“Trouble?” the young agent asked, recognising the anxious concern writ upon the man’s face.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Clayton answered, downplaying it.

“You broke it yet?” Kilgare asked him, with that same undeniable enthusiasm that was so prevalent in young upcoming agents desperate to make a name for themselves within the agency.

Clayton shook his head. He liked Benjamin, he was a good kid, despite the uniform he wore. He was an idealist - which, granted could have been a cause for concern in the questionably moral, but not in this one - and he truly believed in not just the squad, but in the alliance as a whole. And yet he wasn’t another drone. Payne believed he could trust him. But could he trust him with the truth? He wanted to.

“Well maybe this will help,” Kilgare said, resting the case on a table and opening it up. Ignoring the other items in the case, the agent pulled out a storage drive, approximately the size of his hand. Payne recognized it for what it was, but he had no idea how Kilgare had gotten his hands on it. “That a library?” he asked, somewhat dumbfounded.

“Yeah,” the young man said, barely batting a lid as he pulled it out the case and set it up next the nearest computer. “Got the files on that church group on here.”

“The Nordics?” Payne asked, still unsure. He checked his watch and realized he really shouldn’t keep Mr Green waiting. But he couldn’t exactly leave right now either. “You steal it?”

Kilgare stopped what he was doing for a second and looked up at Payne, somewhat offended. “What? No. They let me have it.”

“Who?” Payne said, as Kilgare connected the last of the wires and fired up the drive.

“Head office,” the young agent answered. “I put in a request.”

“And they just gave it you?” Payne could barely believe it, especially since Green had already made it clear in no uncertain terms that he was off the Immolations case.

“Sure did, after I made it clear that it was necessary to your investigation.” Kilgare smiled and stood up. “You want to take a crack at her?” he said, signalling towards the computer which had already brought up a long list of names upon the screen, ready to be opened up and delved into.

“No, I’ve got to…” Payne hesitated. He knew he couldn’t keep Green waiting but Kilgare had shown initiative. He’d gone out of his way to help Payne, even though he couldn’t have known his efforts would have yielded any success. Maybe he could be an asset after all.

“You were a tracker before, right?” Payne said, remembering a story the young agent had told him about his first year training. “You think you can keep track of a number for me?”

“Sure?” Kilgare answered, somewhat unsure. Payne wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Clayton scribbled down Kyra’s phone id on a sheet of paper along with Robinson’s, and gave it to the young man.

“That number on the top,” Clayton said. “That’s Kyra McTaggert. Dong ma?”

He knew the name. Most people in the office did. “Yes sir.”

“I need to get in contact with her but she won’t accept my calls. You think you can break me in?”

Kilgare smiled as he looked at the number. “Sure. I can do this with my eyes closed.”

“Good,” Payne said. “But I need you to keep this quiet. Until we know where she stands. Can’t afford to have others getting wind of this and using her, causing a mess of his whole gorram thing.”

“Understood sir,” Kilgare said.

Payne nodded and thanked him and then made his way to see Green.

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Tuesday, April 19, 2011 3:40 AM

Ciaran swallowed and looked around at the hatred and distrust in the eyes that surrounded her.

Safe had lowered his gun but it didn't rest in his holster where it should. Wisp watched her with contempt and Vixen looked for an opening, a slip of vigilance that would allow her to strike, quick and deadly like the asp that she was.

Only Seryn looked to be willing to hear her out, but even she scowled at her over crossed arms.

Ciaran swallowed again, "they have him."

Wisp rolled his eyes, "Who, exactly.."

Safe waved a quieting hand at Wisp. His eyes narrowing, jaw set, "how do you know this?"

"I helped them catch him. I showed them how."

Wisp's eyes widened as realization hit him, "Gosa... how?"

Ciaran didn't think it would happen, the feeling bubbled and churned inside her as she stood trial in front of these people. The cockpit grew blurry with water, her lip quivered as she struggled to hold back the flood, maintain face.

"I - I didn't want to. They made me..." The damn broke and she crumpled to her knees, Seryn crouched next to her.

Wisp smirked, "You believe this Safe?" He looked over at his friend and saw the grim look on the other man's face. "You don't really believe her? How could they capture Soul?"

"I don't know... It shouldn't be possible but what does she have to gain by lying to us?"

"Umm... leading us into a trap? Selling our skins to the Alliance or worse... the Blue Hands."

"NO!!" Ciaran sobbed, "It's the truth. I sold him out. They made me watch. They're killing him, you have to help me. You're my only hope. If they succeed in breaking him, he'll come after you and friendship won't mean a thing."

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Wednesday, May 04, 2011 2:25 PM

Safe slumped back in the chair and stared at the the ceiling while Seryn comforted the sobbing Ciaran. Wisp paced back and forth.

"What do we do now?" Seryn looked up, her arm still cradling Ciaran.

Wisp stopped pacing, "we have to find Soul."

"But what about Kyra and Needy?" Seryn countered.

"They'll have to wait. I don't see how we have any other choice."

"I have a hunch this is all connected somehow." Safe interupted, his eyes never leaving the ceiling. "All of it. The Crimson Squad..."

Wisp hissed a breath through clenched teeth, "how..."

"Whatever is happening with Needy," Safe continued, "and this Kurren and whoever he's working for."

"How do you figure?" Wisp asked and Seryn nodded in agreement.

"The rule of three." Safe stated matter-of-factly.

"What the hell is the 'Rule of Three'?" Wisp asked.

"The rule of three? Things happen for a reason. One is a fluke, two is a coincidence, three... three is a co-ordinated effort."

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Thursday, May 12, 2011 6:23 AM

NEEDY

The road to Hel is paved with good intentions

OOC: Uhm... where did my posts for Clayton go? I'm trying not to lose my mind here but thats a whole lot of missing story points. Fair enough I think i've got them saved (i think) but that doesn't make it any better

Hope they find a way back soon ???

Oh and sorry it's been a while

************

“Take a seat,” Mr Green told Clayton as the agent walked through the door.

“Sir, about the report,” Clayton began to explain, standing in the doorway, but he was interrupted.

“This isn’t about a report, Payne,” Green told him plainly. “Now take a seat and shut the door.”

---

The Crimson Squad had secrets, that was obvious. Clayton Payne knew that the day he walked in. He’d been offered the position not because of some remarkable ability he had that others lacked, but because he had connections - connections that could be exploited. His relationship with Kyra McTaggert, who in turn had been linked to Bernard Needham, had put him on their watch list. But it was only when he was approached by an agent of Special Branch whilst looking into the disappearance of his friend that made the CS take note. And when Clayton was hung out to dry, left in the dirt on Santos, the Crimson Squad were there to pick up the pieces. They offered him what he’d been seeking for so many years, a purpose, a chance to make a difference, and the opportunity to learn the truth of the many unexplained mysteries of the verse. He didn’t agree with the group a lot of the time, but he saw them as a means to an end. They would help him not only save Kyra, but save himself. And yet, they couldn’t save everybody. For all that they had learnt - the intel they had gathered; the sciences they had perfected; the knowledge they had gained - the Crimson Squad was not without its flaws. All they’d wanted was to advance human evolution to the next level, to be the solution to many of the world’s ills. But they’d suffered for their science, they had lost good men along the way.

---

“You were reassigned,” Green told him. Payne was expecting a reprimand, but that wasn’t why he’d been called up to the office. “This case with the immolations, it wasn’t to be your concern. It was a mistake to assign you it in the first place, especially considering what we now know but... But none of that matters anymore.”

Clayton wanted to interject, but he knew better.

“Mr Payne, the truth is, these murders did not come unannounced. Certain ones, in the know, had been expecting something like this for a while,” Green checked himself and backtracked. “Perhaps not in such a high-profile manner, but nonetheless, it was inevitable.”

“Sir?” Clayton said now, unable to stay silent for much longer. The man wasn’t making much sense, and Payne got the feeling that this conversation was going to stay strictly off the record.

“You weren’t the first one to recognise the symbols on the bodies either,” Green said, alluding to information that Payne had reported to his superior but seemingly ignoring the baffled look on Clayton's face. “But we had hoped you wouldn’t discover the fact until at least you had completed your report on Special Branch. We didn’t think you’d make the connection so soon.”

“You asked me to look into their connection to the Nordics,” Payne answered. “And those symbols on the bodies aren‘t exactly common, it was hard not to make the connection.”

“Yes. And that's why in hindsight I consider it a mistake to have assigned you the immolations in the first place. It had been our hoped you would look upon this new case with a clear mind, using your knowledge of the fugitives to ground this investigation in hard facts, not mythic prophecy. But of course you’d already looked into the immolations. You already had that playing in the back of your mind.”

“I’m not taking shortcuts, sir” Payne answered respectfully, clearly worried that the man was about to accuse him of simply taking the easy way out and shifting the blame for the murders on the renegade crew. It would certainly simplify matters, stitching the cases together in such a way.

“I know,” Green responded, easing Payne’s mind a bit. “In fact, you weren’t the only one we assigned the case too. We gave it to a couple other two-men teams. Same files, but agents with different backgrounds. One, an expert in ancient mythology; another, a renowned psychologists, working together with respected fellow agents. And yet each one of you came to the same conclusion.”

“That the perpetrator believes he is freeing them? Or that he’s acting on fulfilling prophecy?” Payne says, struggling to believe that any sane person could believe that. But then again, maybe that’s the point. Clearly the one responsible has already lost his mind.

“Precisely,” Green answers. “But there’s more to it. And this - what I’m about to tell you - is not going to be passed on to any of the other investigators. They’ll be at your disposal now, the six of you working together, but the full import of this you must keep to yourself. Dong ma?”

Payne nods in agreement and leans forward in his chair.

“The perpetrator is one of our own,” Green divulged in secret. “Or at least he was, a long time ago. He was a good agent, but he got in too deep. He betrayed us and he went underground. We haven’t heard from him in years. But we knew he’d resurface sooner or later.”

Green reached for his desk drawer, unlocked it with his thumb print and pulled out a projector disc and placed it on the table. “Special Branch aren’t the only ones being targeted but for now we’ve felt it necessary to have people believe that is the case. But the truth is we’re targets too.” Green tapped a button on the disc and a series of five holographic photos projected themselves from the device. The images showed bodies, just like the others, burnt to a crisp. “Only two of these men were agents, the other three had merely only attached themselves with us for a brief time. But they had symbols on them too, all five. Only their symbols meant something different. Roughly, it translated as Destroyer."

Payne stared blankly at the images and even though he ought to have been thinking a thousand other things, his mind was fixed on a certain expression Green had used - that they had been ones that had “attached themselves” to the group. This wasn’t just about Needy and the others anymore. This was about Kyra. And now, Payne realised, it could also be about himself. They were all potential targets.

Green would go on, he would tell the story about how one agent had become one of the Crimson Squad’s worst enemies, but it wasn’t the only story that would be told. He knew it might be a mistake, but Payne couldn’t risk her life. Better her life in the hands of the Squad than some renegade agent turned serial killer. And so he told Green all about her, and where she could be found. Maybe they could get to her before he did.

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Saturday, May 14, 2011 4:50 AM

OOC: I marvel at the depth of the story that Needy, Wisp and Soul have been weaving. And that they all have been lacing them together with minute little hints and nods, here and there.

I feel like they are writing, inking and colouring the story and I'm only adding the 'Biff' 'Pow' and 'wham' cursory effects bubbles. But I'm happy to be able to contibute even that much.

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Tuesday, May 17, 2011 5:18 AM

NEEDY

The road to Hel is paved with good intentions

OOC: Safe, i think you're doing yourself a great disservice, I love reading your posts as much as everybody elses. I think its great that we can all bring something different to the story and you guys tell it in such a gripping way. I'm excited to read every new post.

---

The Rouser soared to the heavens and out into the black.

Although Albion was close, it would still take the ship and its crew a few hours to reach their destination, and Clayton Payne was worried they wouldn’t have that long.

“Grab your things Agent,” Payne had said upon returning to Kilgare, still poring over the files before him. “We’ve got to move.” “Sir?” the young agent asked, closing the program and removing the drive. There was a reason why Green had allowed the young agent to receive previously unreleased files on the cult, but that was before Payne had informed his superior of Kyra McTaggert’s whereabouts, and the danger she herself might have been in. “We need to get to Albion,” Payne told him clearly. “You managed to contact our friend yet?” Kilgare gathered a handful of files and placed them in a briefcase. “Not yet. Whoever’s jamming the signal is doing a good job, but I’ve got a worm working its way into the network. Another hour, tops, and I’ll have control of the line.” Payne had nodded, but a part of him was worried, even then, that they might be too late. If someone was jamming the signal, there must have been a reason for it. He certainly couldn’t believe it was just a coincidence that the network was unresponsive on both Kyra and his man “Robinson’s” channels. By the time the two of them had reached the ship, The Rouser, enough time should have passed for Kilgare to hack into the network. But things were never that simple.

“It’s frozen,” Kilgare confessed. “I don’t understand it. This is state of the art tech. Even the guys at Zero haven’t been able to beat it. I designed it myself. Nobody outside of the Squad even knows this tech exists.”

“It’s possible he’s still receiving intel from inside,” Payne said, thinking out loud. It stood to reason that the agent formerly known as Jae Banyon still had friends inside, despite his treachery; or at least access to the Squad’s communications. How else could he have stayed under the radar for so long?

“What do you want me to do?” Kilgare asked, though he didn’t know if he could hack the network at all if his secret weapon couldn’t do the trick.

“Keep trying,” Payne told him. “And scrawl through the files, run checks on the Nordics listed, see if any of them have a background in hacking or anything like that. He might not be working alone on this.”

Payne walked down the length of the shuttle and made a call on the hardline to Mr Green, updating him on the situation.

Clayton didn’t fool himself into thinking that Green cared about Kyra in the slightest, but he must have recognised how integral she was to all of this. She was connected to the crew and was of interest to the former agent responsible for the killings, sooner or later, one, if not both, of them would come for her. Finding her would be the first step to capturing the others.

“We need agents there now,” Payne told his superior clearly. “They don’t need to know who they’re dealing with, you can keep those details quiet all you like, but if we don’t find her now, he might.”

Clayton was stepping over the line, again, but Green was already way ahead of him. The agents were on the ground, apparently, but they still needed to know where they were heading. And Kyra certainly wasn’t going to let herself be found that easy.

“We’re on it,” Green told him. “We’re bringing her in whether she likes it or not. The only thing you need to worry about is making sure she co-operates.”

Hours felt like days, but they passed soon enough. The Rouser now had Albion clear within it’s sights. But Clayton received no word from the ground, or from Green. No news could have reassured him that at least no bad news had come his way, but no good news had been received either.

Then Kilgare announced he’d “got him.” “A signal?” Clayton said moving quickly to the agent, whose positive expression had already changed to one of doubt.

“No, no luck there still” he answered. “I thought I had a lead... but no.”

Clayton reached the agent and looked over his shoulder to the screen he was watching. It was an open file on a former devotee to the Nordic faith - a man that had earned his right on the CS watch list through acts of violence.

“Sorry,” Kilgare said. “I thought I had something, a bit of a tech-wizard, but this guy’s already serving time on Shadow.” The agent sighed despondently and was about to close the page when Payne stopped him.

“No, he‘s not,” Payne said blankly, his mouth agape as he studied the image. The man looked different, younger, but it was certainly him. Only the name had been changed. The violent offender was listed as a Simon Jupe, a tall well-built intimidating sort of fellow. But Clayton had known him as someone else. Someone Kyra knew all too well. A man that had called himself Luthor Mcnab.

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Friday, May 27, 2011 4:46 AM

Who we are depends on the outcome of the struggle between who we were and who we want to be

The officer standing guard tapped his screen but to no avail. It was frozen.

“Gorram piece of gose,” he said, slamming his hand to the side of his phone. “Ain’t been one bit of tech that ain’t let me down over the years. So much for advancement.”

His comrade shook his head in sympathy, whilst the holographic police band around them flickered and faltered behind them. Although sections of the 415 surrounding the abandoned, burnt out, library remained off-limits to the public; the main road had become busy again, undoubtedly due to the fact that, a block away, the market-stall sellers had been told they could resume business as usual. Most people would eye the officers and the building they stood guard over, but that was all. Only a handful had bothered them that day - a relative of the victim that had shown up to ID the body and offer what information she had; and a couple claiming to represent the interest of said family. But as the officer looked up, still frustrated with his phone, he cursed under his breath. The couple and the victim’s daughter had returned, as a unit this time, and were heading his way.

---

“Listen, ma’am,” the officer told Julie Torne plainly, with a tone that might have wanted to sound respectful, but came across as condescending. “Ain’t no getting back in there. I know you, I know you have the right but it don’t mean I can let you in there right now.”

“I understand you can’t corroborate their credentials,” Julie said, referring to Kyra and Luthor as they stood behind her - the officer had been spouting off the same lines to the three of them for the past ten minutes, citing the localised signal jam as a reason why he can’t grant them access. “But you said yourself, you know me,” she told him. “And I can vouch for these people.”

The officer was firm and simply shook his head. There was only so many ways in which he could tell them no and ask, politely of course, for them to leave and return when the signal was back up and running.

“What if I get permission from Crimson Squad?” Kyra said to the officer. “That do anything for you.”

“Girl,” he said to her in a patronising tone. “You could come to me with a letter from the President, demanding I let you in but it just ain’t gonna happen.” Kyra’s eyes turned to slits - she wanted to punch him in the face. “You see that band behind me,” the officer said, pointing to the flickering wall behind him. The other officer stood beside it, a small grin reflected on his face, entertained by the grief his partner was getting. “The signal disruption that’s affecting the phones is interfering with that too. Can’t shut it down, can’t let anyone enter. That building is quarantined whether we like it or not.” “To be honest, if I could, I'd let all three of you in on the off-chance it freezes permanently and I don’t have to put up with your whining anymore.”

Julie’s eyes pierced at him now, whilst the officer’s partner - overhearing his friend’s words - suddenly leaps to attention and strolls over. He‘d half-expected the three visitors to jump the man for his comment. The officer had never been a people person and he’d had a particularly bad week - but they didn’t know that. Fortunately, by the time the second officer had joined the other, the man and two young women were already leaving, shaking their heads.

---

“What do you wanna do now?” Julie asked Kyra. “You said re-examining it might help with leads. But there’s no telling when the signal will come back online and you can’t stay here for long - if the CS are watching they’ll realise you’re not who you say you are.”

Kyra nodded her head.

“You know what, you should go,” Julie said. “It’s not your problem. And even if you did find something, it don’t mean you’ll be able to do anything about it. We’ve been down this road before.”

“No, Julie, we’re gonna figure this out,” Kyra told her. “I’m not backing out now.” Then turning to her partner, Kyra asked Luthor: “You think you’ll be able to do anything about that signal?”

Julie, baffled, looked at Luthor then back to Kyra. “What can he do?” Then apologising to the man, “I mean, no offense, but how can you help with a blackout?”

“Luthor was a bit of a tech-wiz in the past,” Kyra told her, looking to her man and taking his hand in hers with a smile. “Ain’t that right honey?” He smiled back at her. “So you think you can restore it to this section or at least bypass it somehow - give us the chance to get back in there?”

“I can give it a shot,” he answered her. “If there’s a way around it, I’ll figure it out.”

“You’re a doll,” she said smiling.

“I’ll need to find a network I can jack into,” he replied.

“Well whatever you need, we’ll help you find it,” Kyra told him, whilst Julie looked on.

“No, no use all of us running around, sticking our noses in where it ain’t exactly welcome. You do your thing, ask questions, analyse the area, maybe check out some surveillance if they’re not completely shot too. If I get it back up and running, I’ll call you. And if not, well we’ll meet back at the library anyway. Give me til six.”

“Okay,” she answered him, before quickly planting a kiss on his lips.

Luthor nodded and made his way to the other end of the road whilst Julie took in the scene, her half-smile fading. Something didn’t feel right.

---

“What do you want me to do?” Luthor Mcnab said, standing in an alleyway, holding the only working phone to his ear.

He listened to his orders from the other end of the line and leaned with his palm to the wall. The man’s head hung down. “That’s not what I was assigned.”

More orders came across the line and Luthor stood straight once more, dropping his arm to his side. Reluctantly, he nodded and answered the voice that whispered in his ear. “I understand, I’ll do as you ask. For the old ones.”

And with that he hung up his phone and placed it inside his pocket.

Suddenly a clink sounded in the alley, causing Luthor to snap his head up. The alley looked clear. Just his imagination. Turning his back, he made his way back down towards the road.

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Friday, May 27, 2011 4:54 AM

Robinson kept his back to the wall, the empty bottle still by his feet. He dared not move again in case it made another sound. But the alley was quiet now, and the sound of footsteps had faded away from him in the other direction. But still, he waited another couple of minutes to be sure. Clayton’s man hadn’t stayed alive this long without playing it safe. But he’d overheard Luthor’s conversation and even though he had no idea what it was about, the fact that he had been able to use his phone when everybody else’s in this district had been silenced told him one thing. He was involved somehow. And he doubted Kyra knew anything about it. Robinson’s gut had served him well. If Clayton had known he’d followed Mcnab instead of Kyra, he would have had his head. But Robinson knew people, and there had been something “off” about Luthor since the very beginning.

Robinson glanced down the alley and saw it was clear before stepping out. And then, quietly he approached the other end of the alley, following the track Luthor had travelled. He couldn’t afford to lose him, not now.

Just as he approached the end, feet away from the road, he caught sight of a shadow. Before he could react, the shadow moved towards him and caught his body up and flung him to the wall. Luthor pressed his arm against the man’s throat and pushed his weight into him. In that moment Robinson realised his mistake, but it was a mistake he wouldn’t have to live with for long.

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Monday, May 30, 2011 8:48 AM

Wisp broke the collective silence, "We aren't far out of Albion. With three birds to save, one is literally right on our doorstep."

"But Soul..." Ciaran started.

Safe stopped her short. "Unless you know where he is right now, I don't see as there is anything we can do except put out feelers and see what pops up. In the meantime, like Wisp so aptly put, we have other birds what need our attention."

Ciaran silently weighed the information she did have against how much she could trust this crew. Soul trusted them but he may have been getting soft, he let himself get caught after-all. "I, umm... I'll try to remember if the video feed had given anything away as to their location. Thank-you." She finished softly.

"Great! I'm stuck on boatload of boyscouts and their den mother." Vixen turned and stomped out of the cockpit.

Check out my blog for info and updates on my novels http://drlong67.wordpress.com

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Tuesday, May 31, 2011 11:41 PM

Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges

The Raven entered a low orbit around the planet as Wisp started scanning for signs of Activity that might give them a clue to Kyra's location. The name Kyra wasn't bringing up any hits but he really didn't expect it to be that easy. Next on his list was crime scenes, see if anything might have some hooks in it. Nothing too spectacular appeared on that search either, but then he decided to cross reference it with Crimson Squad presence.

Three Hits. A drug bust somewhere on the southern hemisphere, not really the kind of place Kyra would be. Next an illegal weapons cache found in a small village. Maybe he thought to himself, but upon closer inspection there were no signs of any civilians on or near the site.

The last was a pretty gruesome murder on the 415. And two reporters had just been refused entry.

"Safe" Wisp called out "I think I've got her."

"Great. Land us as close as you can without arousing too much fuss and we'll..."

"We might need to be a bit more pressing than that. If I'm reading this data feed right theres someone doing some hacking into the police files. Well someone other than me. I think we need to get there faster. You ever do a Combat Drop Safe?"

"Sure but not for a few cycles"

"Well nows the time to brush up your skills. Grab Vixen and gear up. I'll have you on location in ten minutes"

OOC- sorry for the massive lack of posting guys ive been doing my finals and trying to sort out a PhD. But I should be back with a vengance from here on out

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Wednesday, June 01, 2011 5:43 AM

It seemed that nobody was who they said they were. It was fast becoming a cliché - first Needy with his lies; now Luthor. Kyra might just lose her mind upon discovering her latest flame was no better than the last; but she’d kept her secrets too - too many perhaps. Even now, she was registered on Albion as one Emma Roberts. But telling a few lies hardly qualified her as a monster. The same couldn’t be said of the killers she had shared a bed with. Clayton ought to have known. He lived his whole life unwilling, unable, to place his trust in anyone - and with good reason. But he’d been so hung up with worrying about Needy, that he didn’t even consider that Luthor to be just as much as a threat. Perhaps even more so. After all, Kyra knew Needy and what he was capable of. She had no idea what Luthor had done. After all, he’d lived a whole life before taking on the identity of “Luthor McNab.”

Simon Jupe - the man he once was - had been a charming fellow. Had even talked his way out of court on a number of occasions. He’d been an inspirational speaker, and had led riots on the outer rim, not long after the war of the independents had reached its end at Serenity Valley. Story went that he was finally captured and was currently serving a life sentence on Shadow. Only, that wasn’t true. Somewhere along the way, he’d been switched. Now maybe it was an innocent in that cell, serving his time. Meanwhile Simon, or Luthor, had been pulled into another cause. Jae Banyon’s cause. The former CS agent that had found “the gods” and had been planning a new crusade for years. Luthor was undoubtedly just one of his collaborators, many others had already given their lives for the cause - taking good men down with them, men like Liam Torne.

But Kyra would not be another of his victims, not Banyon’s, Not Luthor’s. As The Rouser entered the atmo on Albion, the communicator clipped onto Clayton’s jacket began to crackle. He tried hailing Kilgare with it from across the room, but to no avail. All he got was static. His phone was just as useless - a message scrolled across the top of it’s screen: NO SIGNAL.

The Rouser had on board only Clayton; Kilgare; the four other agents that had been assigned the same case as them; another three field agents; and a pilot. Payne was hardly on his own, but it was clear, it would just be the ten of them. With no communications coming in or going out from the planet, it was up to them to find Kyra and Luthor before it was too late.

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Monday, June 13, 2011 12:23 AM

Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges

Vixen and Safe stood in The Raven’s Hangar strapping into their rappelling harnesses’ as Wisp tore the ship through a rapid descent into the atmosphere. The competing forces of real and artificial gravity caused them to adopt a slanted stance with ropes flying at awkward angles across the deck. As the team hadn’t really had a chance to resupply since Ariel neither had as much firepower as they would wish on a job like this. But in Vixen’s mind that made it extra fun.

Safe watched as she smirked her way into her gear, two automatic pistols strapped to her chest.

“We’re not gonna have a problem down there with you at my back?” He asked her as he worked his own straps into position

“Come on now” She cooed “You just saved me from a very unfortunate demise. I at least owe you an hour of combat where you don’t have to worry about a stray bullet to the cranium” She walked over and tightened the straps on Safe’s equipment firmly and sharply “You’re just gonna have to trust me”

“I suppose I’d better.”

Wisps voice crackled over the intercom “Guys you’ll be on site in no time. From the looks of the maps the closest drop point is a motorway nearby. You’ll have to move for around 5 minutes on foot. You’re looking for a burnt out Library. Looks like there’s been a bomb blast or something. We’re gonna land at the nearest port but thats nearly an hour away on foot. Grab Kyra and head that way as fast as you can manage. Seryn and I will try and meet you halfway if we can but for the most part you two are on your own down there”

The cargo door in the floor of the bay began to open showing the fast moving landscape below them. Vixen winked at Safe “Party Time” Before slipping her feet over the edge.

“Sure rappelling from a ship at high speed is a Gorram Party”

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Monday, June 13, 2011 2:51 AM

Who we are depends on the outcome of the struggle between who we were and who we want to be

“Protect her… at all costs.” It had been the only order Luthor had been given that hadn’t changed, ever since the two of them had first met—the only thing he ever needed to keep in mind. But now that order had changed, rendered obsolete by a new command the man had been given. Now it was time for her to “return to her forefathers.” Luthor had but one order he must abide to. With Julie he could do as he pleased, but with Kyra Mctaggert his objective was clear: “Send her to the dust.”

***

Kyra and Julie hadn’t gotten far from the Library when Luthor spotted them. They’d been talking to a couple of teenagers, sitting in the market square. At first they hadn’t been helpful at all, leering at the two young women in a way that made Julie uncomfortable. But Kyra stuck it out long enough to realise that the youths, despite being known for loitering around the 415 in the early hours of the morning, hadn’t actually seen or heard anything. Another dead end.

Kyra was surprised to catch sight of her partner, he’d barely been gone an hour.

“You have any luck?” she asked as the two approached him.

“No, signal’s still jammed but I think I found something. Not two blocks from the library, there’s a shop called the Waste Basket. You know it?” he asked pointedly at Julie. She shook her head. “It’s closed now but I was tracking weak spots and I happened to trace it there. C’mon I’ll take you.” As they walked, Luthor continued to feed them lies that would lead them to where he wanted. “It’s empty at the minute, but I think it’s a cover for the Resistance. Your father never mention it to you?” Julie shook her head again and answered, “No.” “Think he might have come here that night, before he headed to the library.”

“You think this is where the signal is being jammed?” Kyra asked, as she felt in her pocket for her phone.

“Not sure,” Luthor answered, still looking ahead as the two women followed his lead. “But… well, you’ll see when you get there.”

Julie seemed eager but Kyra’s face had frozen. Her pace had slowed almost to a stop but as Luthor and Julie’s steps edged further away she picked up the pace once more, careful not to alert them to anything being wrong.

Kyra was continuing to stare at her phone when Julie looked at her. “Everything okay, you not got a signal have you?”

Luthor stopped too and looked back at his partner.

“No,” she said, shrugging it off. “Was just checking to see if there’d been any change.”

And with that, she returned the phone to her pocket, desperate to conceal the paralysing fear that was starting to wash over her with every step. It was true, she had no signal, none that she could make out. But somehow somebody had still got a message to her. She would have loved to have believed it to be a prank, or an error, but deep down she knew she couldn’t ignore it, or tell them what she had just seen and read on her screen.

A photo of Luthor, younger and in prison overalls. And below it, a message:

His real name is Simon Jupe. Get out whilst you can. Help is close. A friend.

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Monday, June 13, 2011 4:26 AM

SOULOFSERENITY

The Man They Call Soul...

Soul died, over and over again. He woke up each time to laughter, and died again. Each time was more painful than the last, as if the torture was being tested and perfected to see how long he would suffer before he gave in to the inevitable. He tried to focus on his friends, the only ones he had in the entire galaxy; their faces swam before him, but every time he awoke they faded.

It scared Soul more than anything what would happen when he couldn't remember them at all.

_______________________________________________

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Monday, June 13, 2011 4:34 AM

CIARAN

I'm not even sure who the real me is anymore...

Ciaran's eyes flew open briefly before narrowing into slits. She had only dozed off for a minute, but she knew she hadn't dreamed. Marshall was being tortured, and Kurren was trying to turn him back into the killer he was. Her fists clenched, and she leapt to her feet to run to the bridge, demand that Safe and the others call off this operation and go save their friend.

Then she took a deep breath. They were saving a friend, and if Marshall could have given his input, they would still be doing the same thing.

With a sigh, she made her way through the ship as the floor began to angle down. She slid into the cockpit and watched Wisp guide them through a very steep entry angle. Hearing Wisp call Safe and Vixen, Ciaran dropped into the chair next to him and grabbed the radio. His eyes widened for a moment, but then settled back to the front screen as she called off the distance to target, keying the microphone every few seconds to alert Safe and Vixen.

She wasn't quite sure what to do to help, but this was at least a start.

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Wednesday, June 22, 2011 6:02 AM

The com in Safe’s ear crackled every few seconds over the howl of the wind as Wisp counted down the time. He cinched the last strap across his chest as Vixen sat in the open bay dangling her feet over the edge as the wind buffeted he hair. Safe hated these jumps. High speed drops and a sudden pull up by the ship. The jump was timed exactly at the moment the ship started to pull up. Their drop, as a result, would be a couple hundred feet. The trick was, the rope and the drop had to play out as the ship gained altitude once more. There was only so much rope and if you waited too long you’d be snapped back up. The problem with that is the sudden change of direction more often than not killed the jumper. So, they had to time their jump and harness release precisely. There was no room for cocky.

“Go!”

Vixen winked and dropped over the edge, her arms and legs spread out as she orientated herself before they folded in tight to her body and she dropped like a missile.

Safe followed her through the opening, the line hissing and whining behind him. The other problem with this drop is that if you descended too fast, there was too much rope. The sudden stop was messy. Vixen was dropping too fast. Safe tucked his arms in and dove. Wisp counted down critical release time. The ground climbed towards them at an alarming rate.

“Vixen! Pull up, you’re going too fast!” The wind snatched the words from his mouth and he knew she couldn’t hear and he just wasn’t catching up to her fast enough.

“10”

“Climb faster Wisp!”

“9. Wait, what?”

“Just do it! Hit the throttle!”

The line was slowing their decent now, but still not fast enough.

“Give ‘er!”

Safe could feel the line vibrate as the ship rocketed upwards faster than the pulleys and winch could spool out. He felt the drag but she was just too close to the ground.

Gorramit!

Safe flung his arms out and the fabric under his arms, small wing chutes attached to the harness, billowed and snapped.

Relieved, he saw Vixen do the same. Her line drew taunt, they were at the end of the line, and she release the clasp landing in a crouched position on the ground.

Safe released his and landed a few feet away, albeit less gracefully as the impact drove the breath from his lungs.

“Beat ya.” Vixen grinned at him.

“Crazy…gorram… kid…” Safe managed between gulped breaths.

Check out my blog for info and updates on my novels http://drlong67.wordpress.com

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Wednesday, June 22, 2011 2:16 PM

JAZAF

"You're gunna die a thousands deaths you gorram freak!" Kurren glared at the speaker. "Not one more word." he told the man. "We are here for a job not for your enjoyment." Kurren watched as Soul died again for the tenth? Thirteenth time? He wasn't sure. Soul was bound to a archaic rack and connected to wires and computers measuing his rate of healing, time of unconsiousness, and the general vital signs. They were on a station that at one time had been used as a base of operations for a small time Crime Boss who acted bigger than he was. Kurren's current employer acquired the base, reffering to it as 'a steal', and set up a temporary research lab. The reason for the lab was never mentioned to Kurren. He didn't care it really didn't matter. What did matter was he had completed the task of capturing Soul but it was only part of the job. His employer never gave a name or reasons for wanting Soul but he did make it clear that once Soul was captured he was to be brought to the base for reconfiguring. Kurren didn't like being a babysitter and he felt the job was far beneath him. He left the observation room and entered Soul's chamber. He almost retched from the smell that hit him. The stink of decay from slayings past was almost oppressive in the room. The scientists had declared that when Soul reformed from each death the body rejected the damaged tissue and replaced it with new ones.Charred flesh from killing Soul with a plasma torch, entrails from an evisceration, and various other body parts laid strewn about the room each one from a different method of death. Soul woke up from his most recent demise. His first gasp of breath was almost comical now. "Welcome back Soul." Soul said nothing, choosing only to stare at the man responsible for his torment. "That's fine if you have nothing to say. I just wanted to speak my piece before you take another nap. You seem to be so tired lately." Kurren paused a moment. "I have to say your friend, Ciaran was it? She was very instrumental with your capture." If it was news to him Soul did not show it. Kurren continued, "She is quite the cache of information. I'd imagine the things she knows you don't even have a clue about." Still Soul remained quiet. Kurren sighed, "You know I really do hate this. Playing babysitter to you while these scientists ruin the mystery of your talents. It chafes my sense of honor about the hunt." Kurren leaves the room, the hiss of the airtight seal is unmistakeable. In an instant the air is sucked from the room. Kurren watches with a frown as Soul suffocates and dies again for the twentieth? forty-fifth time? Cheers from his crew force him to spin and stare grimly at them until the quiet down. He looks over his shoulder at the body of Soul, disgust clearly etched on his face and heads to another part of the station.

ooc: whew! You guys have been going hardcore with this story! It looks amazing and I really enjoy reading all the posts. I hope my recent post can keep up with the great standards.

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Thursday, June 23, 2011 12:07 AM

Inter Arma Enim Silent Leges

A wise man once said that Free-Fall is the closest thing to suicide a man can undergo. Of course Vixen hadn’t read much by wise men she’d just figured it out by herself. She loved the thrill as she fell through the air. The way the wind howled around her face, throwing her hair out behind her. Cold sky on hot skin; it was almost sexual for her.

She knew the risk of dismemberment was high, she knew that timing was everything, she knew she should pay close attention to altitude, air speed and rope length. But she liked to do it all on instinct. She could feel the moment when she should begin to slow down and held off until the last possible moment. Prolonging her ecstasy to the point of no return.

She gave in and coasted down in an acrobatic flair landing in a crouch. Safe went for the more traditional drop and roll technique as a true soldier should.

“Beat-Ya” She teased on an emotional high from the drop, her body shaking with anticipation.

“Crazy…gorram… kid…” Came the panting reply.

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Tuesday, June 28, 2011 7:48 AM