The Very Last League of Extraordinary Gentlemen

[((UCoS))tdf-Oddball]

The Very Last League of Extraordinary Gentlemen

Taken from The Chronicles of the UCS Silversword

Compiled, sorted and embellished just a little bit by Oddball

Preamble

Ships Log:

Name: Unknown
Callsign: Oddball
Age: Unknown
Profession: Profiteer

Height: 187cm
Weight: 120kg

Description: Oddball is a larger than life hero who drinks and eats to excess but is quietly spoken and slow to anger. He would rather use a native battle axe then a laser gun. He has an exploding shock of white hair held in a large pony tail, a great hooked beak of a nose, chin like a hatchet-head and oil-black eyes under break-wave brows on a tanned, wrinkled face. The wrinkles fall neatly in place, like seams in leather. He is quite large in size but moves with the speed and grace of a cobra. He cannot be taunted into a fight or be made to lose his temper.

Ship: Eagle and Drom.

Last known where-abouts: The Ring - New Berlin



Chapter One

It was the last jump gate, almost home. The Drom eased slowly into the docking queue and sat motionless as a large IMG freighter train and four escorting Hawks took their turn and vanished into hyperspace. I groaned with impatience as I watched two of the Hawks miss the gate and have to slowly dock again. Finally they were through and I felt the tug of the gate as it drew the Drom towards it. Lights flashed on the control board as the gate rotated the ship out of normal space and into hyperspace, that strange area lying somewhere between this space and the next one, whatever that meant. The effect produced a tunnel in space, a wormhole, controlled by a gate at either end. The speed at which it brought a space ship through the hole was huge. It allowed ships to traverse vast distances of space in the blink of an eye.

The spiral light show lasted a few seconds and blinked off. Before me sat the familiar constellations of home and I quickly located the trade lane and set the Drom’s cruise engines to full. Off to my right I noticed a small battle between a few Hessians and the IMG train that had made the jump ahead of me. Two of the escorting Hawk fighters were already out of it and the remaining two were hard pressed to hold the Hessian Sabres away from the rapidly escaping train. Some Hessian ships buzzed about the train like a swarm of angry bees as it made it to the trade lane and flashed away, leaving the Hessian fighters annoyed and swearing. My radio crackled with their chatter as they went about setting up for another ambush.

I was neutral with the Hessians and kept my fingers crossed that they didn’t bother scanning my ship as I crossed the last few kilometres to the trade lane dock. I made it finally and felt the ship jerk and rock as the trade lane engaged and shot me away towards the distant planet of New Berlin. To my right I noticed The Ring materialise out of the distance and soon became distinct. I dropped out of the trade lane and cruised over to dock with it. My nobium bought a nice price here. Not as much as I would get over in Dresden but that was a further system away and, besides, I could by cheap diamonds on New Berlin and the call of home was too strong to ignore.



The trader on the Ring waved a pleasant hello as I stepped off the elevator. We had done this a hundred times before and I was an old and trusted trader here. After the sale was complete I was about to head back to the ship when I was stopped by none other than Station Commander Elliot himself. He was a short, plump man with balding hair and chubby fingers. He was clearly wheezing from hurrying and he held my arm for support as he gasped in large breaths of air in an attempt to regain some form of dignity.

“Oddball, glad I caught you.” He half coughed, half spluttered. Everyone used my call sign when talking to me. I doubt anyone actually knew my real name anyway. I helped him steady himself as he finally managed to straighten himself up.

“We have a situation and could use your help.” He looked up into my eyes and a thin smile appeared on his face. “We are in need of some of your… talents.”

I grunted a noncommittal sort of a reply and followed him into the elevator. It opened to reveal the entry to the command centre. The two guards nodded towards me as I followed the Commander onto the Bridge of The Ring. One end was a shambles. Broken glass, upturned furniture, blood stains. Oh good.



Commander Elliot motioned outside and I followed his gaze. Outside, on the hull of The Ring was a man in a space suit. He was just standing there looking at nothing in particular. On closer inspection I noticed a small black hole between his shoulder blades. The hole was tinged in red. More blood. He was obviously dead, his magnetic boots holding him to the hull. As I looked further down the Ring I noticed three more bodies in various degrees of “torn to bloody shreds”. One was completely missing the top half from the waist up.

“Out there, on the hull, is… something.” He sort of half breathed the last word. He squinted into the distance trying to catch a glimpse of whatever the ‘something’ was. “Would you be a good chap and go out there and get it please?”

“Why don’t you just blast it off with a fighter?” I stated the rather obvious.

“Well, you can’t see it actually. It doesn’t show up on any scanner or radar and you have to be within a few metres of it to see it with the naked eye” Elliot scratched his chin and nodded in puzzlement. “Don’t know what it is exactly. Some sort of animal, although where it came from is beyond me. We think it must have come in on some ship and escaped. No-one is owning up to that though.”

“And what makes you think I can kill it when half a platoon of soldiers here couldn’t?” I gestured at the remains of the soldiers littering the hull. “And how can it breath in space anyway?”

“I have no idea, really. I was rather hoping you could kill it with that axe of yours you carry on your belt there.” And he motioned towards the obsidian battle axe I carried. It was a small, short piece of death, with a half moon blade on one side and a sharp icepick of a point on the other. A tough, leather bound handle held the two blades. All in all it was about half a metre in length and was incredibly light, as obsidian is. Tougher than steel, it couldn’t break, no matter what I had hit it against, steel, bone, flesh. Nothing stopped it either. I had learnt long ago not to hit the side of a ship with it. It left a nasty hole.



Suddenly my mind was made up for me. The ‘something’ came in through two sheets of battle shield steel like it was so much tin foil right beside the two guards. Air instantly rushed outwards as the pressure inside left for the vacuum outside, as pressurised air has a tendency to do. One of the guards left with the air, his screams lost in the roar of escaping air. The second guard was held against the wall by the mass of the attacker. It looked, well, like it was covered in small mirrors that reflected every surface at once. Small wonder it was hard to see. It was shaped like a spider, perhaps, maybe an octopus.

I pushed off with my left leg and flew towards the hole in the hull, aiming to land to the right of it. Well, that was the plan anyway. As I neared the ‘something’ I flicked my axe upward from my belt and sliced downward across one of the ‘something’s’ legs. Damn, I am really going to have to name this bloody thing. The axe found it’s mark and the eight legged thing became a seven legged thing. I noticed there was no blood but a bunch of wires and sparks. Ok, a robot ‘something’.

I didn’t have time for a second swing as I had reached the hole in the hull. I let go of the axe and flung a belt line around the ‘something’ and tightened the clips. I was attached to it now and it was moving inward. My axe returned to my hand as all well trained obsidian axes do and I commenced to shorten the distance between me and the seven legged robot by winding in the tether line. As I came into reach of it I swung across another leg and reduced it to a six legged thing. It turned it’s ‘head’ towards me and a stubby barrel protruded from its forehead. I could recognise a laser when I saw one and I dropped to the floor just as the beam occupied the spot I was just in.

Elliot, to his credit, earned his pay and had thrown the switches to seal the hull breach with a force field only moments after the thing had come crashing in. Normal gravity returned and I found myself actually hitting the floor rather hard. The axe fell as I did and severed the laser from the robot quite neatly. With gravity restored I quickly made my feet and began to slice the robot up into tiny little robot pieces. It lifted an arm to reveal some rather sharp looking appliances attached to it and swung them at me. I rolled away, severing the arm as I did so. It lifted another arm but by now I was hitting my straps and severed it before it could do anything. The robot over balanced and toppled towards Elliot who promptly reduced it to atoms with a well placed laser shot, right through the hole I had made where the laser had been. Nice one.



I took a deep breath and realised I had been holding it ever since the thing had crashed through the hull. It had seemed quite some time ago but in reality had only been a couple of minutes. Elliot organised the clean up while I patched up myself. All in all I had come through that rather unscathed, just a couple of scratches. The Commander finally freed himself from the hustle of the repairs and made his way over to me.

“Nice. Very nice. Good job Oddball.” He almost bounced he was so happy. “The scientists are examining the… what ever it was. They look quite excited by it all.” He stopped smiling and looked down at the axe I carried. “I can see now why you carry that bloody thing. It seemed like it was a part of you. At one point there I could have sworn you lost it but it seemed like it just came back.” He chuckled. “Well, it looked like that anyway. Thanks again Oddball”

I grunted a reply and made my way to the elevator. He said it seemed like it just came back to me. Yere, sort of like that. If he only knew the significance of that statement I doubt he would let me back on his little space station.

[Troll]

That was ace Oddball! Look forward to reading more!

[((UCoS))tdf-Oddball]

Chapter 2

Ships Log:

Name: Jonathan Marshall
Callsign: Archimedes
Age: Unknown
Profession: Fleet Admiral

Height: 182cm
Weight: 75kg

Description: Slick brown hair, goatie. Average height. UCoS uniform: colours are black and blue (comes with leather jacket). UCoS emblem on the shoulder. Always wears a blaster on the belt. The name of the blaster is Gloria, custom made. Is serious, alert and strict but occasionally loose and casual. Is very observant, has no time for bullshit and is not a time waster

Last known where-abouts: The UCS Silversword



On a barren, desolate chunk of rock in the Omega 11 system several miners had been hard at work extracting something strange from the heavily radioactive soil. The automated miner ship hovered nearby waiting for the all clear as the miners laboured to remove a large, metallic blockage that had all but sheared off one of the Auto-miner’s grinding wheels. The grinding wheel had been replaced and the damaged one now lay to one side of the large tunnel carved into the asteroid.

Implements of old crashed and clanged as the old picks and bars of traditional mining were used side by side with laser diggers and sonic hammers to shift the stubborn blockage. With nine miners working on the thing it was inevitable one of them saw the movement. He stepped back a little in order to better focus on the object as he sounded a warning to the others.

There was a pause as the miners looked for further movement but here was none forthcoming. After a few derisive grunts and a chuckle, they set back to it. Again there was movement. The metal blockage was about the height of the nearest man and about as round, almost spherical in shape with most of it buried in the almost concrete like rock so when it moved the second time, it was obvious. The round metal ball ground slowly anti-clockwise, emerging like an unscrewing cork. The miners stepped back in alarm as the metal ball began to expand arms, eight in all, towards them.



The nearest miner aimed his sonic hammer towards it and blasted it clean of debris without even damaging one of the million or so mirrors that made up its skin. He dropped the hammer and made a run for it towards the auto-miner only to find he was on his own, the others having already fled. He made the relative safety of the air lock and circled the door shut just as the metal spider slammed into the side of it, causing the thin metal to bulge in alarmingly. Oddly enough, stretched to the limit as it was, the thin plate held and resumed its normal shape after the metal spider had retreated, albeit a little dented. If it had been made of more resistant steel it would have split right open, such was the force of the blow. The miner quickly realized he was trapped in the air lock, the others having locked the ship from inside. He felt the gentle whir of the motors as they started up and the ship began to move away, leaving the airlock alone on the surface of the asteroid. He watched incredulously as the metal spider lunged past him and exploded against the side of the auto-miner and began to smash its way in. A few sparks and small, muffled explosions marked the metal spider’s progress as it tore through the hull of the mining ship.

The miner reacted instinctively, drawing his laser pistol, aiming and firing in one smooth action. Any one able to witness it would have known instantly the signs of an experienced gun fighter, not the movements of a normal miner at all. The beam smashed into the metal spider and knocked it off balance. It quickly turned its attention back to the minor only to receive another blast, knocking it sideways slightly but not damaging it. The miner, realizing the laser was having little effect concentrated on keeping the metal monstrosity off balance while he looked for some sort of edge. He had almost got the thing to the rear of the ship when all of a sudden the cruise engines cut in and the mining ship began to move away. The blast flame of the engines hit the metal spider, removing one of its legs and leaving a gaping hole where it once had been. The minor quickly targeted the area and let lose a stream of energy towards it.

Suddenly everything exploded in a ball of molten metal and orange flame and slowly dissipated to leave nothing, no trace of the ship, miners or the strange metal spider. A small shock wave from the explosion rocked the abandoned airlock as the one surviving miner stared into space in disbelief. He soon roused himself, holstered the pistol and took stock of his predicament. He opened the emergency locker built into his suit and activated the distress beacon. Hopefully someone would be nearby and come to his aid. He looked at his readouts and realized he had about 36 hours of air in his recycle tanks, enough food and water for that long and plenty of juice left in the airlock to run for a few months. He wasn’t really at the desperate stage yet but still worrying none the less.



He made a few mental calculations and realized he could probably make it to Solarius Station using the suits own rockets. He would have to do it now though. A long space walk of this magnitude was very rarely attempted, for obvious reasons. There could be little worse then running out of air kilometers from any thing, or any one for that matter. He summed up his options, shrugged his shoulders, muttered something about having to die of something, and launched himself into space. He aligned his trajectory to pass as close by the sun as possible but still keeping the deadly corona at some distance. He reckoned he should come within a few kilometers of the station before he would need to worry about running out of air. It would be touch and go.

He soon found himself out amongst the asteroids of the debris field, having to swerve left and right to avoid running into them. Realising that too much sideways movement would lengthen the trip, he set about trying to cut in as close to each rock as he could until he cleared the field set out into empty space in that gamma ray filled region between the asteroid filed and the sun. It was warm, but he could fly in a straight line.

Thirty five hours later found him nearing Solarius Station. He estimated he had about an hour of air left and about an hour and a half of flight time to the station, plus docking time. Oh well, it was worth a try. He set the controls of the suit to intercept the station roughly where the control room view ports would be. He would be dead but at least they would find his body. Full naval honours and all that. At least the others in command wouldn’t have to worry about him doing missions personally anymore. You are an Admiral now, no need to do that sort of thing any more.

He grinned at the irony. A flash out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. A ship. A big, beautiful, ship. It was coming in across his north vector to dock at the station. He tapped his distress beacon but it was well and truly dead. Blasted gamma rays. Most of his suit had been eaten away, all bots gone and he was running mainly on shields now. The ship had no hope of noticing something as small as a human. Once again he reached for his laser pistol and took careful aim.



The blast shot across space and connected perfectly with the view port of the incoming ship. The pilot instinctively ducked but soon realized it was only one shot. He quickly scanned the surrounding area and found the drifting miner, beaming him aboard with ten minutes of air to spare.

“Well Gloria, thanks again.” The miner/navel operative tapped the handle of the laser pistol as he spoke and sighed in relief as the airlock closed behind him. “Now how in hell am I going to explain this one?”

[((UCoS))-Archimedes]

omg man, that was brilliant

more more more

[((UCoS))tdf-BlackHawk]

8-)AWESOME STUFF ROFL tight

[((UCoS))-Archimedes]

nah, i think you really captured me there m8
i haven't had so much fun reading a story before, and im serious about that

[==|SGC|==Sgt Pain]

that was awesome

[<[Atreides]>Space Cowboy]

Yeah that was some good stuff

[((UCoS))Rika Nanaka]

Very nice

[((UCoS))tdf-Oddball]

Chapter 3

Ships Log:

RP Name: Robert Reed,

Appearance: Slick brown hair, goatie. tall . UCoS uniform: colours are black and blue (comes with leather jacket). UCoS emblem on the shoulder. Always wears a 1902 Semi rifle tied to back and two blasters called “right” and “left”.

Personality: joking. sense of humor. Alert. Sharpshooter. Somewhat Aggressive.

History: once Admiril of the might =]TradeLink[= , and one of the best fighters in sirus,

Last known where-abouts: Classified



The crosshairs of the night scope steadily followed the patrolling Corsair Guard as he made his slow way across the narrow entrance of a gatehouse. The head of another guard appeared in the scope and the crosshair moved slightly to centre on it. The two guards talked for a few minutes before they both turned and wandered back to the far corners of the hanger, their eyes drifting to the right and left as they searched for anything out of place.

The vision in the scope shifted upwards to reveal another guard standing casually on a gangway suspended immediately over the hanger doors. Following the gangway to the left, another guard was sighted leaning against a ladder rail, the crosshairs resting momentarily on his forehead. He appeared to be asleep, his arms crossed and his head bent forward. The scope moved up the ladder to the roof of the hanger where it located another three guards stationed at various vantage points.

Coming to the end of the roof of the hanger the scope fell to the ground and finding the first guard again, followed him to the gatehouse. Once the second guard came into view the scope continued on its way around the 7 guard locations, probably for the one thousandth time.


Patience is the guardian angel of the sniper. He rides upon the right shoulder. With patience, the sniper can wait. The wait can be minutes, hours, even days in length. The wait made the sniper what he was, deadly. With the angel of patience camped heavily on his shoulder, this sniper had remained hidden now for almost a week, local time. This was his sixth day. The sun slowly dawned at his back, the light raising a light mist from the surrounding tarmac and grassy ground. Dotted about the un-kept lawn areas were mounds of cut grass and broken, slashed bushes. In amongst one of these mounds lay the sniper, hidden from view, right out in the open.

On the left shoulder of the sniper rides the Angel of Luck. A fickle angel is Lady Luck. Sometimes she is your greatest asset, sometimes your worst nightmare. Lady Luck rode the sniper’s shoulder with ease this day and he remained hidden from view for a sixth consecutive day as heavy space port traffic blasted, hovered and flit about him. He lay almost six hundred meters from the hanger as the sun slowly set ahead of him. A golden halo outlined the hanger as the sun slotted in behind it, the guards becoming dark, ghost like beings that seemed to hover above the heat shimmer of the tarmac. The sniper adjusted his right arm, slowly, ever so slowly, until the cramp in the elbow eased slightly and the rifle rested steadily once more.

Odd was the weapon of choice for this sniper. Ancient, powder driven projectiles, semi automatic loading, slender magazine holding one slotted bullet above the next in a row of 10, brand name “Winchester” engraved upon the blue ferrous metal of the barrel. A projectile could fly hard, fast and true for only one thousand meters but any further and the target would, maybe, feel it fly past. Strange indeed this weapon, an anomaly. In the hands of this skilled sniper however, when describing the weapon, you needed to use the words “deadly” and “accurate”.



As time slowly marched on the sniper lay in wait. As midnight marked the start of his seventh day Lady Luck decided to take a break. A Drom freighter dropped slowly down from the star dotted sky, its landing rockets blasting all before it as the large ship fought with gravity. A few meters from the ground and gravity won. The ship lurched sideways, spearing into a docked Eagle Fighter, shearing off the mooring locks. The Eagle erupted in a ball of flame, causing a nearby Titan Fighter to join in. The resultant double explosion lit up the night sky as debris rained down upon the field.

The target arrived. The sniper noted the movement to his right. The explosion had brought everyone out to see the commotion, his target included. The shot echoed throughout the landing field but was heard only by the sniper, and possibly the target. It was wide. Not the snipers fault entirely. The mound of rubbish he lay buried in had burst into flame, along with most of the surrounding area. Thick smoke obscured his view and the heat was becoming almost unbearable. Still he held his position. The scope flicked left and right in an attempt to locate the target. A brief glimpse through the smoke, between two vehicles, fire tenders, that were racing across the field towards him and the exploding ships behind. A glimpse. A shot, A hit. Success.

A large fire tender drove directly over the burning rubbish, scattering it all about the field, sending embers blasting before it. It screamed to a holt beside the stricken Drom, its hoses drenching it with fire retardant chemicals. From beneath its wheels a man dropped stealthily to his feet, sized up the area and in one quick action dashed towards an empty Eagle. He made the cockpit unscathed as more ships began to explode about him. Several other ships attempted to blast free of the destruction, some were successful, some didn’t make it, joining the conflagration of death and fire.

The sniper aimed the Eagle between two pillars of flame and blasted clear. Standing the Eagle on its wingtip he shot through it, millimeters from the ground. He came through the fire storm unscathed, lined up space and shot upwards. He was away.



Finally the Drom succumb to the heat and destruction and erupted into flame. It rolled over on its side and began to crumple. Out of one side a large, an almost invisible, eight legged ball of destruction crashed free of the wreckage and proceeded to totally destroy everything left standing.

[rose]

Chapter 4

Ships Log:

Name: Orion Rains
Codename: BlackHawk

Appearance: jet black hair. Clean cut. Youngish but not to young. 184cm . atheletic build, but not bulky. Wares black and yellow Pilot uniform. Never carries any weapons.

Personality: Observant quick leaner butt screws up time to time . helps out . comes to help not when wanted butt when needed. jokes and has fun a lot. completes everything he starts.

History: was brought up and trained at Malta and in the Omicrons with the most elite of criminals and was raised from 1 year to 17 after found abandoned in NY. soon left on own to start life and go where i could help to make up for all the people i killed ,and to relieve the evil that i had learned.

Last known where-abouts: Patrol zone – trade lanes – Dresden system



“15”. The pilot muttered as another ball of flame erupted in front of him. The scanner targeted another Hessian fighter and deft fingers sent blaster and missile hunting it.

“16” he muttered again as a well placed mine sent another Hessian to oblivion.

“17” as his previous missile found the target.

“18” he almost yawned as his Eagle flicked effortlessly to the right, aligned a target, and sent it to join its deceased counterparts. The battle continued along this vein for another few minutes as Hessian after Hessian fell to the pilot’s skill and deadly accuracy. A quick glance at the readouts revealed about ten or so more to go. Off to the far left of the screen a dot suddenly appeared. He glanced again. The dot stood out white against the red of the Hessians. Another ship. As he took a third glance another 2 dots appeared behind the first. He swung his Eagle towards them, hit the scanner, swung back, the maneuver only costing him a couple of blue indicators from his shields. The Hessians were almost gone, only two remaining, as the readout displayed the newcomers identity. Assassins!



“Good timing” he half grinned to himself as he blasted the last Hessian from space and swung to face the new threat. With no warning, threats or so much as a hello, the three Assassin Eagles fell upon the UCoS patrol Marshal. Knocking his shields down into the red quickly, his lightning reflexes once again deftly sent blasters, missiles and mines out as they shot past each other at full throttle. As he turned back towards the Assassin ships he found he now only faced two.

They separated slightly as they both banked to port to bring the UCoS Marshal into range. They took approximately two seconds to realign themselves. It turned out to be about 1 second too long. The UCoS Marshal turned another one of them into so much scrap metal and severely reduced the fighting ability of the last one. The remaining Assassin realised too late he was outmatched and tried to make a run for the relative safety of the trade lane. Just as he got into docking sequence with the lane the UCoS Marshal fell upon him. Realising the Assassin was as good as helpless while his ship was caught in the docking sequence, he held off firing and let him go through.

“Next time”. He grinned and turned for home.



“Well done”. His com-link crackled to life, the voice distorted by the strange gamma fields of the Dresden system.

“Who is this? Identify yourself. This is a restricted military channel” The pilot replied.

“Come to Hamburg. Your services are required, Blackhawk”

“Identify yourself.”

“Come to Hamburg.” And the voice was gone.

The pilot thought for a few minutes and muttered finally “Yere, I’ll come to Hamburg alright.” He was relatively certain there would probably be a few Assassins waiting in Hamburg for him. It smelled like a trap. It sounded like a trap.

“I’d better not keep them waiting” he grinned to himself.

[rose]

Chapter 5

Ships Log:

RP Name: Richard "Meady" Mead

Appearance:
Black/Brown short hair, clean shaven, about 164cm. Wears uniform only on duty, else seen in Jeans and polo shirt; sometimes wearing blue sunnies.

Personality:
Usually relaxed, ready to add ideas to conversations or lighten the mood with some joke. During battle or tense situations, may become pissed off(rarely), hyperactive or indulging in mead.

History:
Always had my name "Mead", ancestors probably made the alcoholic desert wine it is...then got smashed and called it mead...Hence i drink mead often. Raised and born from Kyushu, half Bretonian half Chinese. Got a ship, a dragon, started looting wrecks to make money, then got asked.."wanna become an lo3 fighter?".."You get to blow stuff up for $13/hr?"..then moved to NB Rheinland, started blowing up Phantoms mainly. lo3 fell, merged with tdf, made UCoS...became some major...said "whatever" 37times.. started blowing up other Criminals....Apparently became some Admiral...said "whatever" 14times...and the rest u can improvise or whatever.

Last Known Where-abouts: Hamburg



Ships Log

P Name: Stan Loou. Call-sign: Juggernaut

Appearance: Blond hair, Athletic build, 5"9.

Personality: Likes to observe situations before going into action, easygoing, helps out when needed.

History: Stan was brought up in Liberty were at the age of 15 he joined the Liberty Security Force... after that job didn't work out he turned to the dark-side and joined the Smugglers from the Omicron systems... then when he got tired of that he had a change of heart and needed some new order in his life... that was 1 year ago. Now he is a Wing Sergeant in the UCoS. He is known for his hand-to-hand combat skills and always carries 2 blasters with him.

Last Known Where-abouts: Hamburg



“Well? What do you think?”
“dunno”
“What ya mean, dunno?”
“Well, I dunno.”
“I reckon we try anyway.”
“Yere, well, whatever…”

The two men emerged from behind the shattered bar and faced the angry crowd of patrons. Several were in various states of disrepair, having cuts and bruises, torn clothes, the odd black eye and missing teeth. Some of the late arrivals were in better condition, having come in at the end of the last round. The two men slowly walked up to the nearest of the crowd of about twenty five locals.

“So, what was that you were saying about my sister?” Innocent remarks by unwary travelers have often started many a tavern brawl. This was no exception. Punches flew, feet kicked, tables crashed, chairs splintered, robot bar tenders crumpled. More than one individual fell, not to rise again, either through fear or incapacity to do so. It was an old fashioned, all out, melee. Try as they might, the locals could not bring the two assailants down. Too fast, too strong, too skilled, and the truth be known, probably too drunk to feel any pain, the two travelers went busily and merrily to work, destroying the local property and the local good health record. Only the sudden roar of a Police blaster fired into the ceiling stopped the commotion.

The two antagonists stood paralysed in the centre of the wrecked bar, several locals lay flung about them like rag dolls with several more lying piled up in corners. Not a shred of furniture remained intact, even the steel bar itself having dents and scratches. One of the locals fell from one of the travelers arms, hitting the floor with a sickening thud. The other traveler dropped the bar stool he was holding above his head behind him. It crashed into the chest of a fallen man causing him to groan in pain. Now, in the silence, it sounded rather loud. Both men winced at the sound and slowly raised their hands in the universally recognized sign of surrender.

“Good God! Who is responsible for this?” yelled the flabbergasted Police Officer. Both travelers, without a moments hesitation, pointed at each other.



A large, white haired man limped down the hallway of the cell block, stopping before the bars of Cell 8. He shook his head in disgust and grunted at the two sleeping men.

“Get up. I paid ya bail. We can go.”

One of the men raised an eyelid, tried to focus on the speaker, failed, tried again.

“Oddball? Is that you?”

“Yere. Now come on. Get the lead out. We got places to be.”

“Yere, yere, yere, keep ya bloody shirt on.”

After some effort, the two men rallied and soon stood beside Oddball in the warm morning sun of Hamburg City. He motioned them into a taxi and it lifted off to join the heavy throng of morning commuter traffic heading into the central business district. Fifteen minutes later, the taxi dropped them on the roof of one of the tallest buildings in Hamburg.

As they made the elevators, the taller of the two asked “What’s the story Oddball?”

“Dunno Meady. I just got a message on my com-link to get you two out of jail and to come here. Apparently we gotta meet someone in room twelve eleven, floor four hundred and sixty three. I got intrigued.”

“Why?” Asked the other.

“Cause he said it would be really worth my while”

“Right. And we all know how you feel about money, aye Oddball.” The two men chuckled as Oddball simply grunted.

“I wouldn’t laugh to loud ifin’ I was you. You ain’t seen the bill for that bar you destroyed last night, yet. I reckon you blokes will be needin’ some extra creds shortly.”

Juggernaut and Meady were suddenly a bit more sober. The elevator stopped, the door slid open and the bell went ‘ding’.

[((UCoS))tdf-BlackHawk]

dang sweet stuff

[((UCoS))lo3-Ultramarine]

aww man thats awesome, love how ya got good ol' Silversword in there. Any chance ya could do one on me?

[((UCoS))lo3-Meady]

xD

thats the 11th bar!

[((UCoS))tdf-Oddball]

Chapter 6
Prelude:


“Report!”
“Captain Rika Nanaka is missing.”
“Missing! What do you mean, missing?!”
“She is somewhere in Kusari space but we are unable to locate her precise location.”
“Hmmm, this is bad.”
“She was last seen entering Duke Usul Maud’Dib headquarters. He is head of the House Atreides.”
“I know who Duke Usul is you idiot.”
“Yes Sir. Sorry Sir. She requested and was granted a leave of absence from UCoS. We believe she is traveling either with, or under the name of, Shihero.”
“All well and good Lieutenant, but it does little to help.”
“No sir. Perhaps we could send an operative into Atreides HQ and try to locate her?”
“No. That would cause too many eyes to turn in our direction if the operative was discovered. No. Keep watching. If you locate her, let me know immediately.”
“Yes Sir.”
“Out”


“Report!”
“Still no sign of Rika Nanaka, Sir”
“What of the others?”
“Juggernaut, Meady and Oddball are currently in Hamburg. Blackhawk is nearing Hamburg now. We have located Robreed and he is also coming to Hamburg. Admiral Archimedes is on the UCS Silversword. It is scheduled to dock in Hamburg at any moment. We will contact him as soon as it arrives.”
“Excellent. I would have liked Rika on this team as well but we can’t have everything.”
“I can offer alternatives My Lord.”
“Yes? Go ahead”
“Cruiser, Netzky, SgtPain, Troll and Ultramarine have all displayed the talents required to fill Rika’s spot. In our ranking system, as you know, the top 20 candidates were only separated by a few points.”
“Have any of them come into direct contact with it?”
“Only Archimedes and Oddball have for certain. Robreed may have. It cannot be confirmed.”
“Very well, I will take this into consideration. Please report to me once all of our parties are together.”
“Yes sir.”
“Out”


“Report!”
“Everyone is assembled in the state room My Lord.”
“Excellent. I will start the proceedings then.”
“Yes My Lord.”
“Any word on Rika Nanaka?”
“None Sir.”
“Very well. Out.”

[((UCoS))tdf-Oddball]

Chapter 6

Main


I whistled tunelessly through my teeth as I leant back in the chair and dumped my feet on the large, rather ornate table. There were 20 chairs around the table but only six were occupied. I noted Meady and Juggernaut had decided to take this opportunity to catch up on some sleep and had assumed positions like my own. I took quick stock of the others in the room.

A Naval guy, an admiral none the less, judging by the uniform, sat quietly doing the same. He looked to be sizing everyone in the room up as well. He nodded in my direction as our eyes met. I returned the nod but didn’t speak. The attendant out in the hall had told us not to speak to each other as we waited, for what seemed like hours, for this Admiral guy to show up.

With his back to me, a pilot sat opposite, his gaze planted firmly out the large windows, taking in the view of the city. He looked young but his eyes held that ‘look of eagles’ that defined the good pilots from the more ordinary. Hmmm, now that I noticed it, every one here had that look to them.

The sixth guy just looked plain dangerous. He gave you a look like he had a sight set on you. I’d been around enough to know a spook when I see one. This spook had the cold, hard stare of an Assassin, or maybe a sniper. Damn touchy bunch them Assassins. I resolved to keep my distance and chuckled to myself. In a fair fight I could probably snap him into several little pieces but I doubted he would give me time for that. I chuckled again and he crooked a smile at me. Crap, guy could read minds too. I chuckled again.



My thoughts were broken by a soft click and the door at the end of the room opened. We all turned to see our latest arrival. I nudged Meady awake with a well aimed boot. He sat up slowly and yawned. We rose to our feet almost as one.

The new arrival looked…odd. His skin didn’t seem to fit properly. It hung in folds, grey, old, only his eyes showed any colour, blue. Not that pale, washy blue of the sea or sky, but that sharp, piecing blue of the topaz. He wore a dark brown robe with a cowl over his head. His hands looked skeletal as he motioned for us all to sit down again.

“Gentlemen, please be seated.” His voice was low, almost distant, like it was coming from another room. “No doubt you are all wondering why I have brought you’re here so I will get straight to the point.”

“My name is Thomas Grant. It will mean nothing to you.” He almost sighed as he lowered himself gently into a chair at the end of the table. “I have brought you gentlemen here for a very special mission. It is, of course, of vital importance. The future of all Sirius is at stake, as usual. And, as is always the case, only a select few have the necessary talent, resolve and persona to accomplish the mission.”



He made a small steeple of his boney hands and continued. “The mission is dangerous, foolhardy and with little to no reward. There will be no public acclaim at the end of it, only public deaths if you should fail. I know, inside you all now, fights that demon called uncertainty. I also know that you will all take this challenge because it is in your very nature to do so.”

He stopped talking to allow anyone to interrupt at this point. I chanced a quick glance at the others. They all held poker faces. No-one said a word. The old man continued.

“It is as I expected. Very well Gentlemen, I’ll get to the point. I am, how should I put it? I’m in a ‘unique’ position. From this unique position I can see the big picture, all of Sirius. I can get reports from areas few can even dream of. It is with this big picture that I can see trouble arising before anyone else. It is this trouble arising that I need to address. To address it I need a team of, shall we say, …interesting, individuals. You Sirs, are my team of interesting individuals, my League of Extraordinary Gentlemen.”



He seemed to pause for effect. It was lost in Meady’s derisive snort and my cough of disbelief. The navy guy spoke up, his voice in command just in it’s uttering.

“And you Sir are a nut.” Archimedes frowned.

“The biggest one around” added the Pilot, Blackhawk.

“Please Gentlemen. Let me finish. If you wish to leave then you may certainly do so, but hear me out first.” He almost pleaded, but his piercing stare never wavered. I eased myself back down into my chair after half getting out of it to leave. Hell, I was here anyway, may as well listen to what he’s got to say. He visibly relaxed as all of us agreed to hear him out.



“Thank you. Several months ago I began to receive reports of seemingly unrelated disappearances, a cruise liner in Colorado, a Destroyer in Leeds, various mining ships in various mining locations, freighters, fighters, and even bases, all gone. Sometimes there would be debris left, and sometimes there would not be.”

“Bases? What, whole bases?” Juggernaut raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

“Yes, whole bases.” Grant continued. ”I have been able to determine that these seemingly random acts are in fact linked. They all have one thing in common…”

“A great big shiny, son of a bitch, eight legged robot.” I guessed. Everyone turned towards me. I shrugged. Archimedes raised an eyebrow. Robreed nodded.

“Yes. As good a description as any.” Grant also nodded. He glanced at Robreed. “You saw it then?”

“I thought I saw something. Wasn’t sure exactly what it was. But eight legged shiny robot sounds about right.”

“I saw one too.” Archimedes added, “It tore a ship apart like it was so much tin foil. I managed to blow it up with my pistol but it took some doing.”

The Admiral was raised a couple of notches in my book after that statement. I had seen first hand how much of a next to nothing effect a laser had on those suckers. To bring one down with a gun was something else.

“Well done” I muttered half to myself.

“I suppose getting up close and chopping one up with an axe was all in a days work?” Grant grinned at me. They all turned towards me again. Again, I just shrugged that non-committal shrug of ‘so?’ that I do. I ain’t gonna sing my praises. Not my style.

Grant continued. “Right, gentlemen, I need you to find where these things are coming from and shut them down. I also need you to find out why they are here and who is behind them. Each of you has a talent that I believe will be needed at some point in this quest. You will each know when.”



A door swung open and one of the single most attractive females I had ever laid eyes on proceeded to hand each of us a disk. She wore a uniform that I was unfamiliar with. Not that there was much in the way of material to put any insignias on it. The uniform consisted of a very short skirt, very short top and very long boots, all black, all nice. Her snow white complexion was almost flawless. Her hair was a fiery red, straight and long, down to her waist and it framed a small face with a button nose, full red lips and those same, piercing topaz blue eyes like Grants. She looked like something out of a Cardi dream.

“This is Captain Toboramai. She will be your contact with me. The disk she is handing you has all the information I have collected so far. Captain Toboramai will add to it as more information becomes available. Please take the time to scan them. If you require anything, please contact the Captain. I will leave the rest up to you. That, gentlemen, concludes this interview.”

Captain Toboramai helped him slowly get to his feet and he shuffled from the room. The rest of us just stared at his back as the door closed. The captain turned and faced us, her composure cool, calm and collected. Her eyes blinked. I heard a soft, almost inaudible click. I looked at her and chuckled. Everyone else did as well. At least I wasn’t the only one who had worked out she was a bloody machine. Even her name, how corny can you get?

[((UCoS))Rika Nanaka]

Well as Archi has said before

archimedes said:

i haven't had so much fun reading a story before, and im serious about that

I agree with him.

KICK ASS!!!!!!!!!!!

[((UCoS))-Ghost_Ship]

awesome stories oddball

[((UCoS))tdf-Oddball]

Chapter 7


RP Name: Ultramarine

Appearance: Red mow-hawk always spiked 8inches. Muscles, piercings, tattoos, just under 6 foot. Looks like he has just stepped out of a Death Metal concert. Never in uniform even when flying

Personality: Prefers to give orders, very, very laid back, comedic, but very aggressive and must keep moving. Also trigger happy

History: Ultramarine was a very intelligent honorable pilot of the Federation but as the federation folded ultra moved onto the LO3 where he participated in training and rose through the ranks until that day where it all turned. Ultra was testing out a new remote controlled device on his Sabre when he lost control and the wing hit him on the head. He was in a coma for 2 hours and afterwards lost all respect for anything including the chain of command. Now he rests in reserve.

Also, always flies a Sabre and always refers to it as Hellbird.

Last Known Where-abouts: New York



RP Name: Davi Ski, Netsky was given to me from some merchants back on Freeport 10.

Appearance: Long black hair (Shoulder length) Average height. Slim build. UCoS uniform: old cloths. Has the UCOS emblem somewhere on my black leather jacket, which is also somewhere, along with my blaster

Personality: Loose, casual, loves to joke around, random when bored, lazy.

History: My origin is unknown even to me. My parents were captured by some unknown pirates in tau-37 (which the Freeport 10 base deny any involvement in), and my brother is out there somewhere.

Last Known Where-abouts: New York



RP Name: Ghost Ship,

Appearance: Unknown

History: Unknown

Last Known Where-abouts: Manhattan


(Parts of this story I borrowed from Rika’s style as it is awesome I hope you don’t mind. I had tried several ways to get the dogfight to ‘sound’ right. This, I hope, was the best way. I tried to make it sound like a fight out of the Battle of Britain.)


Story:

My Drom dropped out of the jump hole and sat motionless, drifting slightly forward. Not a real smart thing to do but then again I’d never been this far in towards the inner systems before. New York was some sort of legendary place seldom visited by outlanders such as myself. The radio crackled into life. Two distinct voices cut through the static, their tone low and sure. It was obviously a dogfight but it was out of visual range.



Netsky: “Bandits! 6 o’clock low.”

Netsky: “More at 9 o’clock”
Ultramarine: “I count 24 low and some 30 odd high”
Netsky: “Yere, I get the same. Ok, let’s go.”
Ultramarine: “Got ya. I’m on the right.”
Netsky: “k. Lean that Sabre in closer.”
Ultramarine: “No problemo. The four on the far right are breaking off.”
Netsky: “I see ‘em. Leave ‘em go.”
Ultramarine: “k.”
Netsky: “Engaging bogeys. 2 flights. Let’s rip it up ‘em.”
Ultramarine: “Yeeeeeeeeehaaaaaaaaa!”
Netsky: “swing left, clear. Hold it, hold it…ok.”
Ultramarine: “nice. Break right…now”
Netsky: “Mate, pretty to watch – lol”
Ultramarine: “oh yere…”
Netsky: “two bogeys on my tail.”
Ultramarine: “drop to 240 degrees”
Ultramarine: “Got ‘em, Clear.”
Netsky: “ta, ain’t we got fun.”
Ultramarine: “woot!!!”
Netsky: “oh crap…close one”
Ultramarine: “nice shot! Quick, back up, back up!”
Netsky: “good on ya. Watch where you are bloody goin’”
Ultramarine: “lol”
Netsky: “oh yere, scratch another one.”
Ultramarine: “oh shit, I’m holed. Break left, break left!”
Netsky: “damn, that was close. You ok?”
Ultramarine: “yere, yere.”
Netsky: “comin at ya”
Ultramarine: “shit mate, I can’t see anything.”
Netsky: “sorry, I must have hit his fuel tanks.”
Ultramarine: “I got a persistent one on my arse.”
Netsky: “hang sec, ok, go 180”
Ultramarine: “what, lol, this is a Sabre dude!”
Netsky: “lol, nicely done though. You’re clear.”
Ultramarine: “Cheers.”
Ultramarine: “my hole’s getting worse, leaking coolant.”
Netsky: “break off and head for base.”
Ultramarine: “like hell. There’s only a few left. I’ll be right.”
Netsky: “good, clear my arse.”
Ultramarine: “no problemo, sit still ya little bugger. Damn, this guy’s good.”
Netsky: “Thanks for the commentary, now get rid of him”
Ultramarine: “Oh I’m tryin mate. He’s a slippery little…ok, got him.”
Netsky: “And that is that.”
Ultramarine: “Woot! I got 2 more than you! You know what that means!”
Netsky: “yere, yere. My bloody shout.”
Ultramarine: “My favourite expression.”
Netsky: “lol. Let’s head in. Where’s that lane?”
Netsky: “Manhattan?
Ultramarine: “Sounds like a plan.”



I flicked the send button on the open channel and radioed the flyers.

“Nice work guys. I’m a trade ship out of New Berlin looking for an escort into Manhattan. Just heard you guys were going there. Any chance of an assist?”

“No problem trader. Names Netsky. Send your co-ordinates and we’ll link up.”

“Cheers.”



With a fighter escort the rest of the trip was relaxed and I soon found myself looking upon Manhattan. I thanked Netsky and Ultramarine, promised to meet up with them later to shout a beer or two, and took my turn in the docking queue.

Manhattan was the capital planet of Sirius and it was bustling with heavy traffic, both trade ships and fighters. The small, light fighters were dwarfed by the huge trade trains from the outer worlds, mixed in with heavy Navy fighters and the very heavy Eagles of the independents. It was crowded, made New Berlin look positively village like. Currently the system was under the control of the Band of Brothers, a police clan that maintained strict policies on what could and couldn’t be carried onto the planet.

As I sat waiting for the docking rings to clear a heavy fighter with BoB markings detached itself from the throng and casually drifted up beside me. My instruments recorded the scan as the fighter took stock of what was onboard.

“You’re clear to proceed.” Crackled across the radio. The pilot waved casually at me as he banked away to chase down another arrival.



“Gee, thanks a whole bunch.” I grinned back sarcastically and waved my middle finger in his direction.

“Steady Oddball. They got a job to do too you know.” Archimedes tone was relaxed but the words carried weight. His words always carried weight. Damn hard man to ignore. Bloody Admirals! It was obvious why he had been chosen for this mission. Natural leader type. Easy to follow.

“Yere, well, the free trader in me says otherwise but, hey, who am I to complain. I don’t like Cardi anyway. But damn, those artifacts are another thing. Good money in artifacts you know.” And I chuckled to myself.

“Is that all you think about, credits?” and he looked at me in a that half sneer, half smile sort of thing he had going on. Made you want to duck the question.

“Yere, what else is there?”

“Honour. Family. Duty. Self. Don’t they mean anything?”



“Now self, there’s one I’m interested in.” and I laughed. “Honour, where’s the honour out here? Bloody crims will blow you away for carrying cargo or just for being in their system, or because they think you are a cop. Bloody cops will blow you away for carrying cargo they reckon is bad for the people or because they think you are a crim. Pfft! Where’s the honour in any of that? Hell, some bloody independents will attack you for no reason at all. Just for the fun of it”

“Sounds like you’ve had a hard time of it.”

“Mate, you don’t know the half of it. I did my duty once. Fought with the Navy against the Hessians back in 81. Fought with the Hessians against the Corsairs in 83. Fought with the Corsairs against the Assasins in 84, They’re friends now you know. I even did a couple of trips with the Assasins against the Nomads. Hell I’ve been in card, er, trade runs with OSG, chased down smugglers with the House Atreides and helped disperse the murderous BoD clan in 88. Hell, I even managed to hold off some Druids once. Shit. I done my tours of duty. And what have I got to show for it? A bung leg and an empty bank account.”

“Yere, well, cry me a river sunshine.” And he crooked a wry smile at me. “You’re still breathing and you managed to slip that artifact shipment in your rear, fake hold, right past our friend out there.”

I looked at him for a few minutes trying to get a handle on him. I failed. Damn, how’d he know about the artifacts, and the fake hold? Damn. I laughed. What else was there to do? He joined in.



We finally docked. The Drom nestled into it’s cradle and was carried into the maintenance shops. I ordered up some bots and bats to refill the empty slots, took a look at the weapons on sale, mostly ex-navy rubbish and small caliber, and took care of some trade business. It was a reasonably profitable run, all things considered. Archimedes frowned at me as the credits were transferred to my personal chip. I gave him my non-committal shrug and carried on past him. He shook his head in despair but at least he let me get away with it. Any other naval man would have had me thrown into the brig.

“You do realize that we are here for a purpose now don’t you?” He glanced sideways at me as we entered the elevator to the ground floor.

“Yere, yere. I know. But we were coming this way anyway. May as well make some money. So, who’s the guy we’re looking for here again?”

“He goes by the name of Ghost Ship. We are in need of a special service he supplies.”

“Right. Best place to start is the bar I reckon.”

“Oddball, keep your mind on the mission and behave yourself. Manhattan does not take kindly to outlanders. And for God’s sake, will you take off that ‘Manhattan pilots are Pussies’ t-shirt!”

[((UCoS))tdf-Oddball]

Chapter 8

Prelude

Captain Toboramai slipped quietly into the rear of the building via a slightly open cellar door. Making absolutely no noise at all she quickly crossed the wet concrete floor to a closed door and placed an ear to it. Hearing nothing she carefully opened the door. It made a soft grinding noise but it was not loud enough to attract any attention. She scanned the next room and made straight for the stair case leading upwards. Each steel step would have rang out loudly from any normal tread but Toboramai made little to no noise as she ascended past level after level. The staircase carried her upward and continued onto the roof some 300 levels above her.

She did not reach the roof level. She paused at the door opening onto the 247th floor and quickly entered. The climb had taken slightly more than an hour but she was not out of breath, her body not tired, her mind still focused. The corridor was empty, dimly lit and long. At the far end a set of elevator doors stared back at her. Beside that a reception desk held one occupant, a middle aged woman, her white uniform a stark contrast to Toboramai’s black cat suit. The nurse’s back was to her. Toboramai inched her way down the corridor, keeping careful watch on the elevators and the woman at the desk. She reached room 1134, carefully opened it and stepped lightly inside.

Room 1134 held one occupant. The room was in darkness but Toboramai did not rely on normal vision alone. Her infrared censors picked up the sleeping figure, other sensors found the myriad of tubes, the hum of machines reached her ears. From a small pouch built into the cat suit she produced a small hypodermic needle and inserted it into one of the tubes leading to the sleeping figure. She emptied the entire contents. Replacing the needle in the pouch she stealthily made her exit via the way she came in. No body saw or heard anything except an alarm monitor showing a flat line on the patient.



Chapter 8

Main:

The three Eagles slowed from cruise speed and approached the station with caution. Blackhawk, Meady and Juggernaut scanned all nearby space but found no traffic. Blackhawk’s fighter broke formation and began a slow circumnavigation of the space station as Meady and Juggernaut began their docking procedures. The Corsair base lay deep in Assasin territory but the Eagles had made the trip undetected, so far. The base was friendly enough and after trading commodities Meady and Juggernaut took a seat at the bar and settled in for the wait. Blackhawk’s voice was soft in Meady’s ear.

“All clear out here. No sign of anything out of the ordinary.”

“Ok. Keep us posted. Nothing unusual in here either.”

After several hours on monotonous circling of the Corsair base Blackhawk concluded that their calculations must be floored. It looked great at the time. The disks from Toboramai had laid out a pattern of attacks. It wasn’t obvious at first but after carefully going over every scrap of evidence, every report, every unusual occurrence, a pattern emerged. Expanding on that, they had deduced that an attack was imminent and it should be in this sector of this system. This was the only base in this sector. No cruise liners operated this far into Assasin territory, no Navy patrolled here, nothing was mined here. This sector was a complete zero. A good place for a Corsair base though.



“Sensors show a Bounty Hunter in a Hammerhead approaching on cruise engines. Guy must be on a suicide run with this many Corsairs about.” Blackhawk informed Meady.

“That’s strange.” Juggernaut added after Meady had relayed the message.

“He’s not slowing. He’s going to hit the base full on!” Blackhawk almost yelled. The Hammerhead fighter skirted through the anti-ship gunfire blasting out from the base and smashed full throttle into a docking airlock door, erupting into a ball of flame and molten metal. The airlock held as it was designed to do but it now carried a large black scar, testimony to the size and heat of the impact.

Blackhawk eased his Eagle in for a closer look. The black scar was still expanding. That’s odd. Suddenly a bright point of light appeared in the center of the black scar and began to expand. A hole was forming. Air began to rush out from the base. Alarms sounded as the inner airlock began to close to seal the breach. It had almost sealed when it was suddenly bent out of shape by a hard impact to the center of it. The airlock stopped closing. Force fields came on. The entire hanger area was sealed off. Those unfortunate enough to be trapped in there perished quickly as the air was rapidly depleted. A few quick thinking individuals managed to don space suits or seal off their ships. A few moments later they began to wish they hadn’t bothered.



A large, eight legged monstrosity of a robot began to systematically reduce the base to rubble. Several inner defensive lasers blasted away but without effect, their beams deflecting off and smashing into the bases structure, further adding to the chaos. The entire docking bay was a sea of flame, all contained within the force fields of the defense system. The robot reached the first force field paused momentarily as it extended a thin probe through it, rapidly expanded the hole and shot through into the base proper. Soldiers rallied and met the threat head on. They perished. Several civilians launched their own attacks but they too proved ineffectual as the robot simply destroyed all before it.

At the first sounding of a warning siren, Meady and Juggernaut left the bar and made for the docking bay. They arrived to find the robot exiting through the force field and instantly brought their weapons to bare on the gigantic mirrored octopus. They too found their lasers had no effect on the advancing, wildly flailing robot. They began to retreat further into the base, fighting a withdrawal.

“Jug, bring down that storage tank on top of the bloody thing!” Meady yelled through the crash and blast of the battle. Juggernaut waved his laser across the base of a tall, 12 story high storage block, reducing the foundations to dust. The tank toppled over, burying the robot beneath tons of steel and concrete. As the dust blasted about them the robot didn’t even slow down. It crashed free of the rubble and continued its assault.

“How the hell do you stop this muther!” Juggernaut yelled as they both dived behind some rubble. They replaced pistol batteries and, while offering the odd shot towards the robot, looked for an escape path. It didn’t look good.

“oh s**t!” Meady muttered and they both quickly rolled apart as a huge shiny leg crashed down on the spot they had just occupied. The robot rumbled over them and continued on its way. They fired a couple of shots up at it but there was no where to hurt the thing.

Just then the robot ran out of base. It crashed through the outer wall and emerged into space. Air and debris blasted out with it. The robot crooked an arm on the side of the hole and spun back inside, smashing anything passing by it. Meady and Juggernaut held on for dear life as everything began to flow out the large hull breach.

“Well, that’s it then.” Meady muttered. He glanced at Juggernaut who nodded his acceptance of the situation. This was it. The end.



“Yeeeehaaarrrrr!” The sound rattled into Meady’s ear through the com link. Blackhawk’s fighter emerged into the base through the breach. Several well aimed blasts sent the robot toppling away as a tractor beam found Meady and Juggernaut. The Eagle flashed across the inside of the base in an instant and banked sharply to avoid ploughing into the far end. Several more tractor beams lashed out, finding survivors amongst the debris. The Eagle lined up for the breach but had to climb away at the last instant as the robot suddenly emerged to fill the gap.

Blackhawk sent a cannonball missile and several laser blasts into the robot as he swung back in a large loop. He lined the hole up again and sent another two cannonballs ahead of him. They intercepted the robot as it lurched forward, the missiles erupting in balls of flame on its outer shell. A crack appeared. Blackhawk instantly targeted it with gun fire. It began to peel open, a seem opened up down one side with flame spilling from it. Blackhawk targeted the seem and put another missile into it as he shot his Eagle through the breach and free of the base. He began to swing around for another pass when the robot erupted, destroying it and the remaining base. He dodged debris as he set his engines to cruise and shot off away from the base.



As the dust cloud dispersed into space very little remained to show a base had been there at all.