Pioneers: Creation

Lone Wolf (Part 1)

Lone Wolf (Part 1)


         “What’s his name?”


         “Kenshi Tamaki.”  The picture rewound.


         “What’s his name?”


         “Kenshi Tamaki.”  The picture rewound, this time a few seconds longer.  The pale, black-haired man went from bending over the white conference table to sitting up straight in his metallic chair.  A name faded in at the bottom of the screen.  ‘Petty Officer 3rd Class Terrace Burlai’.  The picture stopped and played again.


         “He jumped out ahead of everyone in what was supposed to be a surprise attack.  He warned them we were coming.  Then it was just chaos.  He managed to survive and jumped into hyperspace with their leader at the end.  He abandoned the rest of us.”


         “What’s his name?”


         “Kenshi Tamaki.”  The picture rewound.  “Kenshi Tamaki.”  The picture rewound.  “Kenshi Tamaki.”


         “Did this Tamaki show any signs he would betray you before the battle?”


         “He was nervous, but so was everyone.  I didn’t think much of it.”


         “What about those that were frozen after the battle was over?  Why didn’t you radio in or come for help?”  A few murmurs voiced the disapproval of such a sensitive question to a man who had just seen hell and Burlai looked down almost shamefully.


         “My radio and hyperspace drive were destroyed during the battle.  It would have taken me years to reach the nearest outpost.”  His head was still bowed.  It looked like he felt he was responsible for the frozen dead.  He was responsible for the frozen dead.  Burlai had never taken that much damage during the battle.


         Kenshi could watch no more.  He had found the traitor as he’d wanted and he could barely stand the truth.  Burlai.  His teammate.  A guy who’d been through training alongside of him.  A guy he was supposed to trust with his life had turned his back the first time opportunity reared it’s head.  He’d ruined Kenshi’s life and abandoned 23 fellow allies.  Just so he could be the great hero.  Fame was a disgusting thing.


         Terrace would be exposed, one way or another.  Everyone had a little dirty laundry and Burlai was no different.  It was just a matter of time and effort to find that laundry and dump it out on the front door of some news station.  Kenshi’s old life might have been ruined, but he wasn’t going down alone.


         For now, however, he had a silver ship and a beautiful blonde to find.


-------------------------


         Docking on White Sun was about as simple as could be expected.  Landing was the hardest part of any flight, but it was easy enough that countless people throughout the universe did it every day - often more than once - without getting themselves killed.


         Quicksilver landed in one of the private hangars - small spaces used for people who didn’t want to deal with the usual crowds or dangers of the larger spaces.  And Quinn didn’t want anyone asking questions behind her back while she worked.


         She exited the ship with a large shopping list.  Many heavy tools would be needed to take apart Quicksilver by herself and she still needed to find another set of clothes to change out of - it wouldn’t be a good idea running around in an MMC mech uniform.


         Quinn walked out of the hangar, earning her fair share of stares as she did so, and looked around the space station.  The races there were reasonably mixed with everything from the common Midollonian to the rare Terran and just about everything in between.  Gendoleth traders sold fancy silks and clothes from their home while Riets sold jewelry.  Comanton allowed passers free trials of their popular quilts and pillows made from their own molted feathers.  Delesians marketed all sorts of strange gizmos and equipment, from rare weapons to super balls that bounced ten feet higher.  Quinn ignored it all, pushing past the merchants and various visitors and trying to find a single good inexpensive trader who could sell her clothing.


         Fortunately such a search did not take too long and soon the mechanic was standing in front of a Wenlin, an enormous white and brown fur-covered beast of a man hailing from a planet of the same name whose climates were freezing.  They were the first in their line of species, the gordos, and one of the two surviving first sentient races along with the aquatic Asseia of the mesaria.  His beastly, gorilla-like face contorted into a toothy grin.


         “H’lo lihil one!  How‘re we tohay?!” the Wenlin asked in a loud and heavily accented, but somehow friendly, voice.  Quinn gave a pleasant smile to the merchant.


         “I’m fine, thank you.”


         “I see we hhhave one off the Nhinhathu among us.  Am I corrhect?”


         “And Frentan as well.”


         “Yhes...I see thhat now.  Is thhere anything ol’ Uncharhin chan do fhor you?”


         “There was a small incident recently and the clothes I am wearing happen to be all I have.”


         “Yhes.  An’ you chome to Uncharhin, yhes?  Whhat woul you be lhiking?”


         The next twenty minutes were spent shuffling through pile after pile of clothing.  Out of what was available most of it was actually made of incredibly comfortable, if ugly, materials.  Wenlins, or at least Uncharhin, it seemed didn’t find the need for fancy clothing due to their monstrous appearances.  Nevertheless, after twenty minutes Quinn had four new sets of comfortable and reasonably fashionable outfits and was pulling out a small wad of pale yellow cash she was lucky enough to have kept with her.


         Uncharhin gave her a huge toothy smile as he bagged some the clothing while Quinn put on the rest over her uniform.  Seconds later she was making her way from the booth back toward the main hangar.  There she knew the local mechanics would have the machinery she needed to take apart Quicksilver and her engine.  Once inside the main hangar it was easy enough to find a mechanic and Quinn walked up to the small, bored-looking human of undefinable race.


         “Hello.  I’m looking to rent some of your heavy machinery for a few days.”  The small mech looked up from his position of leaning against the wall and straightened up immediately when his eyes came upon her.


         “Well ma’am we don’t usually rent out equipment to people here.  Maybe you’d like us to deal with whatever problems your ship is having...”


         “My ship is custom made and I don’t want strangers tinkering around with it,” she said cooly, knowing where the mechanic would be trying to go through this line of conversation.


         “Excuse me for saying so, ma’am, but you don’t look like the type of person used to using heavy machinery or repairing ships.”


         “I assure you I am quite qualified in both.”  The man hesitated in asking his next question, licking his lips subconsciously.


         “As I said, we don’t normally rent out equipment.  Maybe if you’d allow me to come with you - just for show, of course.  My superiors wouldn’t like it if I just let anybody use their equipment.”


         “Your superiors would never know.  I am docked in one of your private hangars.”


         “But safety...” he got no further.


         “Quit making excuses.  All I want is access to your equipment and I’ll pay the same price as if you had fixed it yourself.  If I wind up dead then you can sell the ship for scrap or do whatever you want with it,” she said sternly.  The man stared at her for a long moment, likely annoyed with the stubborn woman before him and probably even more annoyed by not getting so much as the slightest leeway to asking her out.  Finally he nodded his head, never giving up his annoyed glare.


         “We have everything you need over there,” the mech said while pointing behind him to where a number of cranes and loaders sat parked.  “And payment will be charged along with parking fees.  It’s just not sa...”


         “Thank you,” Quinn interrupted and walked past the fuming mechanic.  Seconds later, she heard him talking into a radio, probably to tell the others she had access to the equipment.


         The machine and tool area didn’t have very much for a hangar of this size.  Much of it was probably being used in the unusually busy area, but even still there wasn’t very much to work with - a number of wrenches, drills, hammers, and anything else a handyman’s garage might carry lay in semi organized piles.  A few lifts, loaders and cranes rounded out the short selection of vehicles she could put to use.


         Quinn grabbed a complete tool box, taking longer than she would have liked so she could check everything was in place.  She placed the large box inside one of the lifts and grabbed a number of drills and welders.  With equipment loaded and the first smile in hours gracing her lips, Quinn started up the lift and drove the snail-paced vehicle into her private hangar.  She walked back out once more to strap herself into a loader and used the giant exosuit to walk back into her hangar at the same snail pace.


         On her way she stopped at the sight of some sort of commotion in one section of the large hangar.  There, a group of soldiers were running around a tightly packed set of fighters - Ravens, she recognized - one of the group shouting orders at the rest while they pulled equipment from their ships.  Quinn shrugged it off and powered the loader forward.  MMC presence was likely to be common this far out and close to the Titan.


         Five minutes later she was standing in front of the large domed shell covering Quicksilver’s engine with a welder/cutter, crowbar, wrench and a pair of drills.  She examined the shell for another five minutes, trying to find any seams, cracks, nicks or other vulnerable area where she might insert one of her tools.  There was nothing.  The entire dome was a complete piece, no bolts or hooks keeping it together.  Not even where it connected to the floor could a small seam be seen.  It was a part of the ship, never meant to be tampered with.


         Quinn shrugged, grunted and grabbed the welder/cutter.  Turning the small device onto it’s lowest setting, a short beam of white-hot fire appeared above the device.  She flipped up a small shade on the device’s side used to protect her eyes from the intense light while she worked and bent over the large silver shell.


         What happened next was too fast for Quinn to see.  The cutter’s beam touched the shell, there was a flash of bluish-white light and Quinn was suddenly sitting against the engine room’s door with a hand that felt burned and a numbed feeling throughout the rest of her body.  The welder/cutter was nowhere to be seen.


         Suddenly the transparent image of a girl just under five feet tall appeared in front of Quinn, looking down at her with a mischievous smile and a bright gleam in her green eyes.  The girl, who couldn’t be older than 15, brushed a hand through her long blood-red hair before she began speaking.


         “I see someone managed to break into Kenshi’s ship, eh?” the girl said in a slightly nasally voice.  “I thought it might happen.  That guy has a bad luck streak farther than the eye can see.  Too bad, though.  I knew Kenshi would never try breaking into the ship’s systems - he’s too smart for that - so I installed this security device.  You just screwed yourself over.”  The girl let out an annoying cackle.


         ‘It’s a recording,’ Quinn realized with wide eyes.  ‘This girl created this ship for Kenshi and made sure it would never be scrapped.’


         “You have twenty seconds to leave this ship before it goes under lockdown.  Anything which so much as touches it after that will be disintegrated.  Lockdown can only be removed by Kenshi or the removal of the ships’s power source, which is impossible to access in twenty seconds,” the girl said with a growing grin.  “I am such a genius, I know.  But enough of that.  Countdown begins five seconds ago.  Toodles!”  And with that, the girl disappeared.


         Quinn might have sat in quiet contemplation for hours after that, but the thought of disintegration was not a pleasant one.  She shot up and sprinted out of the room, down the hallway and through the outer hatch with only two seconds left to spare.  The hatch closed just as she turned around, a strange hissing following as air molecules were torn apart upon impact with the ship giving the sleek silver vehicle even more of a shimmering effect.


         ‘What now?’ Quinn asked herself as she stared at Quicksilver with wide eyes and an open mouth.


-------------------------


         Davnick rolled his shoulder around a few times as he made his way down to the bar.  The majority of Ployer’s Place seemed barren for the most part, though the occasional man with a big gun and deadly glare still appeared here and there.


         Despite that, Dav was actually surprised he was still within the establishment.  It wasn’t the wisest decision to let strangers in at a time of battle, but he guessed Ployer just wanted to keep business running.  The aging Esten probably saw the event as a show for publicity of a sort, proving that he could protect his bar/restraunt/hotel/casino and the people within while running a good business, all the while scaring away potential enemies.  It could make Ployer’s Place infinitely more popular and powerful if it actually worked out.


         Even so, Davnick knew he would be watched.  Ployer would allow him to fight out of necessity and as a show of trust, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t order his lackeys to make sure Davnick wouldn’t try anything.  And Davnick wouldn’t try anything.


         As he walked into the main room the mercenary was aware of the two dozen heads suddenly turning to stare at the new arrival.  Once they realized who it was most turned back to whatever they had been doing earlier, though there were a few who kept their glares set upon the Frentan.  Davnick ignored them and walked up to the center bar where one man kept an arm on a heavy machine gun while two others leaned back with assault rifles resting against their shoulders.


         “Got any light beers here?” Davnick asked the bartender.  The large man, either a freakishly huge Midollonian or a soft-skinned Terran, turned to him with a slightly questioning look on his face while pulling one large hand across his wavy blonde hair.


         “You don’t plan on getting drunk before the big fight, do you?” he asked in a voice higher than his body should have allowed.  Almost definitely Midollonian.


         “‘Course not.  That’s why I say light beer instead of three shots of tequila.”  The bartender smiled at this.


         “Alright then.  But don’t make me put you off.  The boss wouldn’t be happy with that.”


         “Charlie, get an ale ready!” one of the men whispered harshly just as the bartender started taking down a mug.


         “Hmm?”  The bartender - apparently named Charlie - asked.


         “Charlie, it’s been too long since we’ve spoken!” a sweet female voice with an undeniable edge called from across the room.  Charlie and Davnick whirled as one and both set their eyes on the tall, curvy frame of what had to be one of the most beautiful women Davnick had ever seen.  Wearing a baggy pair of shorts and a tight tank top, neither of which much hindered the figure underneath, the woman was almost an eyesore.  It took the same amount of time for the woman to walk up to the bar and take a stool as it did for the mercenary to finally realize who he was staring at and when he did Charlie announced it.


         “R-Ruki!  How good to see you again.  Um...the boss is resting now if you want to talk to him,” the bartender said uncomfortably.


         “Quit being so nervous, Charlie.  I’m not here to randomly slaughter everybody who gives me a strange look.”  She glanced briefly at Davnick.  “Like you.”  Davnick sucked in his surprise at the pirate’s arrival and decided to introduce himself.


         “Davnick Cecile, ma’am,” he drawled slowly, unconsciously turning on the old Dav charm.


         “Davnick, hmm?  Your parents indecisive?” Ruki asked, turning her body to give the mercenary her full attention.  Charlie took the opportunity to fill an ale and set it next to the smiling pirate before backing away quietly.


         “Yes ma’am.  One said Davner, the other said Nicholas.  They flipped a coin on what should come first.”  Ruki smiled.


         “I take it daddy won.”


         “For the first and last time.”  Now she gave a hard laugh and Davnick couldn’t help but think, ‘Score.’  Once she calmed down again she sat against the bar and took a long chug from the ale she never ordered.


         “Well, Davnernicholas, I take it you know who I am?”


         “A pretty lady named Ruki,” Dav said, feigning naivete.


         “Flattering.  Really.  But I don’t go for such charms.”


         “Ok.  You are Ruki, or so our friendly bartender says.  Would there be a last name to that?”  A number of awkward glances went around the room.


         “You haven’t been in this business long, have you?” Ruki asked.


         “Caught red-handed.”  She gave him a wide, feral smile revealing a pair of elongated fangs.  Davnick had to repress a gulp at the sight.


         “Well everyone has to start somewhere.  Charlie, refill my ale.”


         “Yes ma’am.” the bartender replied as he took her almost empty mug and replaced it with a pre-prepared ale.


         “And why the hell is everyone calling me ma’am?  Do I look like some rich little brat?”  Nobody answered.  “Very reassuring.”  Ruki took the ale, jumped off her stool and started making her way over to where a few men were playing a round of poker.  Davnick almost had a heart attack when he noticed the meter-long tail swaying back and forth behind her.  Exotic was an understatement for this woman.  “You can serve the rookie his light beer now, Charlie,” she called over her shoulder and said no more to the bartender or mercenary.  They both shot startled glances at each other.


         “She has very good ears,” Davnick said.


         “Ruki has a way with surprising everyone.  Not that that’s always a good thing,” Charlie muttered under his breath.  The two guards only nodded their heads.


         “I heard her once threaten to turn a man inside out for making a pass on her.  The guy laughed it off thinking she wasn’t serious.  I mean, how can you turn a man inside out?  He was found in an alley the next day...or at least we think it was him.  The only clue we had was the fact he was inside out,” one of the guards whispered as low as possible.  Davnick gulped and glanced over at the woman.  Ruki was laughing loudly, gathering up a pile of money.


         “You don’t want to be flirting with her, kid.  You don’t want anything to do with her.  And when the fighting starts, you’ll know why.  She’s a killer, pure and simple.  I’ve seen her rip out a man’s heart for a lesser reason than you gave,” Charlie explained.  “When she fights I guarantee you will find a newfound respect for your innards.  You will see things you wouldn’t believe.”


         “I think you’re exaggerating a bit.”


         “I’m saying it lightly for you.  She has more blood on her hands than everyone in this building put together and she couldn’t care less.”  Davnick nodded and Charlie turned away to fill a mug with a popular light beer.


         “Is Tamaki the same, then?” The mug dropped, shattering on the ground and spilling beer over the wooden floor.  Charlie spun around, anger marring his face.


         “Listen and listen good.  You do not screw with that woman.  Now I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but this isn’t like playing with any old fire.  You’re touching on a white dwarf and it will fry you alive.  Understand?”  Davnick raised his arms in mock surrender and nodded.


         “I got it.  She’s a killer and she kills.  So does Hadro Winlil,” he said, speaking of a famous killer a few years back who took a liking to performing unnecessary surgeries without the use of drugs.  The three men shook their heads and turned away from the mercenary.  “Sooo...is Tamaki the same?” he asked again a minute later.  The men stayed quiet for a long moment before Charlie sighed, turned around and grabbed another mug.


         “Nobody knows about Kenshi except Ruki and Kenshi.  Ruki never talks about him and no one here’s ever met Kenshi,” he said while filling the mug with another beer.  He set it down heavily in front of the waiting merc.  “But if he’s still alive I think it’s safe to assume he’s dangerous enough.  He’s survived Ruki, whether or not you see that as a big thing.”  Davnick nodded his head and took a long sip from his drink.  He glanced at Ruki, still playing cards with a big grin and a bigger pile of money.


         ‘There’s no way she can be as dangerous as everyone says.  There’s just been one too many rumors about her and she uses it to her advantage.  Even still, I should watch my back around her.  She has to be deadly enough to have supported those rumors for so long.’  Davnick stood up as he finished his drink and started walking back to his room.  ‘Now let’s see how Commander Burlai likes my work so far.’


-------------------------


         Ruki leaned heavily into the elevator, still in a bad mood from her thoughts about Kenshi.  She had to get her mind off the guy before she went even crazier.  Luckily, Ployer’s Place held such distractions in one form or another.


         The elevator doors slid open quietly and Ruki was aware of almost every single eye in the room suddenly turning toward her. They turned back just as suddenly, all realizing who had just walked in and trying their best not to look like they knew it.  Her sharp ears caught snippets of conversations all over the room.


         “...and so he takes three out in one pass without a single dent to show for it, but plenty of blood.  I never seen such a thing.”


         “...boy did she moan.  I tell you, I gave her 10 orgasms right there.”


         “Twenty on black...I mean red!  RED!!!”


         “...three slugs in a perfect triangle, just barely missing my upper spine.  Beat that.”


         “‘Course not.  That’s why I say light beer instead of three shots of tequila.”


         Ruki turned in the direction of the last one where a handsome man a couple inches shorter than herself sat talking to Charlie, Ployer’s favorite bartender.


         She remembered years ago when Charlie and her’d first met.  He’d flirted with her once, seen her split a skull - literally - and always sweated near her since.  A shame, too.  His strong, angular face and enormous body would have given her some fun.


         “Alright then.  But don’t make me put you off.  The boss wouldn’t be happy with that,” Charlie replied to the smaller man.


         As Ruki started making her way over to the main bar, one of the men tensed and whispered, “Charlie, get an ale ready!”


         “Hmm?” was all Charlie offered in return.


         ‘Cowards.  Always cowards,’ she thought harshly as she put on a fake smile and called out to her old partner’s best friend.  “Charlie, it’s been too long since we’ve spoken!”  Charlie and the smaller man spun to face her, Charlie’s face taking on a look of horror and the man’s showing growing lust.  ‘Make that cowards and horny children.’  She walked up and took a stool.


         “R-Ruki!  How good to see you again.  Um...the boss is resting now if you want to talk to him,” Charlie said in a anxious tone that didn’t fit his large build.


         “Quit being so nervous, Charlie.  I’m not here to randomly slaughter everybody who gives me a strange look.”  She turned to the man sitting beside her, still staring since she’d begun walking up to the bar.  “Like you.”  The man, a Frentan most likely, snapped out of whatever trance he’d been in a moment earlier and she saw a womanizing smile slide over his face.


         “Davnick Cecile, ma’am,” he said in a slow, pleasant drawl.


         “Davnick, hmm?  Your parents indecisive?” Ruki asked as she turned her body toward him.  It was always fun scaring womanizers.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Charlie set down a mug of ale next to her and back away slowly, as if he might be able to escape her notice.  At least being feared by your closest friends had the merit of free drinks.


         “Yes ma’am.  One said Davner, the other said Nicholas.  They flipped a coin on what should come first.”  Ruki cracked a smile.  A funny womanizer.  Besides the paranoid they were the most fun to screw with.


         “I take it daddy won.”  Davnick nodded slowly and sadly, but she could see the humor in it.


         “For the first and last time.”  This time she laughed long and hard.  She would have fun with this one, alright.  Once she was done laughing Ruki grabbed the ale, downing half of it in one long gulp.


         “Well, Davnernicholas, I take it you know who I am?” she asked.


         “A pretty lady named Ruki.”  She rolled her eyes.


         “Flattering.  Really.  But I don’t fall for such charms.”


         “Ok.  You are Ruki, or so our friendly bartender says.  Would there be a last name to that?”  She let her jaw hang open for a moment and caught a few odd glances run around the bar.


         “You haven’t been in this business long, have you?”  A bashful grin stretched across his face.


         “Caught red-handed.”


         This changed things.  She would have to allow Charlie or some other ‘veteran of Ruki’ explain who she was before scaring him away.  Then he’d get curious.  Unbelieving, but curious.  And a curious womanizer would try to get even closer.  She felt herself grin.


         “Well everyone has to start somewhere.  Charlie, refill my ale.”


         “Yes ma’am,” he replied and replaced her ale with another.


         “And why the hell is everyone calling me ma’am?  Do I look like some rich little brat?”  The only answer was a few awkward stares.  “Very reassuring.”  She grabbed her mug, hopped off her stool and started walking toward the card tables, but a last thought made her call over her shoulder with another wide smile.  “You can serve the rookie his light beer now, Charlie.”


         She heard the whispered voices start up again as soon as she neared a card table, but decided to ignore them.  She’d heard it all before.  It was annoying hearing those closest to you talking about you as some monster.


         ‘But then, that’s what you are,’ a strange voice whispered inside her head.  And really, she couldn’t deny it.  She was a killer of the worst sort.  Uncaring, unsympathetic, and passionate about it.


         Ruki sat down at one of the many tables.  The game being played was instantly stopped and the cards were dealt again to include the feared new arrival, but Ruki hardly noticed.  Someone cracked a joke, trying to break the ice that had so suddenly formed over the table and Ruki laughed loudly, not even bothering to listen to what was being said.  Her mind was at too many places at once.


         There were the hundreds of fond memories of all the fun she’d had: the massacre at the  Khorinis military base nearly 200 years ago, the bloodshed of the Sisto Lan pleasure cruise during the start of her pirating career, the gory escape of her bonds 380 years ago when she learned of her love of death.  Then there were the thoughts of the Frentan and the fun she’d have showing him a few ropes.  His face when he discovered the truth about her would be priceless.


         But in the end, all her memories led back to one thing.  Her pirating memories all failed to compare with her meeting on Idona VII.  She’d misjudged a supposed rookie a few times too many and because of it she was in her current position: on the run from the one person she oddly wanted to be near at that moment.


         ‘I’ve gotta settle things with Kenshi before this gets out of hand,’ she thought while pulling in her latest winnings with her usual playful smile.  ‘It’s unnatural to think about someone so much, especially a rival who’d much rather see your head on a pike than your body working his.’


-------------------------


         Lieutenant Slin Preesly was not happy man at the moment.  A Terran of average height and rough looks with dark hair and skin paled from too long out in space, he was a fairly recognizable figure in the MMC.  Sitting amongst 16 CTG-45 IIs while the 15 men under his command went to work either maintaining their equipment or studying security files of White Sun, he couldn’t help but think this all must have been some kind of bad joke.  Preesly was a SEALS.  Had been since he was allowed to join the service 18 years earlier and would be until the higher-ups forced retirement on his shoulders.  He’d seen his fair share of grizzly situations, had been through some tough times, but that’s what he did.  It’s what he was trained to do and it’s what he liked to do.


         But police work was not the job a respected SEALS team was supposed to be assigned.


         Sighing and massaging his temples, Preesly was reminded yet again that SEALS integration with the MMC was turning the once formidable group of soldiers soft.  Hell, the SEALS program was thought to be turning soft since the beginning of the Terran war when requirements for passing into the elite group became more lenient to accommodate the extreme casualties.  Maybe even before that when the need for three extra months of training in the program became necessary to teach piloting skills since space warfare became more common and too many of the elite teams began to get wiped out by a lucky shot to a dropship - the time when SEAL became SEALS.  800 years before over 80% of the soldiers who went into the training never passed.  By the time they were trained as pilots that number went down to 55%.  During the Terran war it was 35%.  Nowadays it was a minuscule 20%, opposite of what it had started as.


         Of course much of this was just statistics and many would argue that SEALS training hadn’t become so soft over the years but, in fact, the Terran mind had evolved into a more warlike state allowing more soldiers to pass and the elite group had been at their best by the end of the war, but not a military analyst in existence would deny the group was but a faded shadow of their former glory since they became part of the MMC.  If he hadn’t already been a part of the group during integration he would have much rather gone for Green Berets or SAS.  At least they didn’t have idiotic MMC Admirals breathing down their backs, trying to make them change into more of a regular infantry than a select group of elite soldiers.  The toughest and most respected training program in the universe changed to become more ‘humane’.  The thought nearly made him gag.


         Preesly shook his head away from the negative history of the once great soldiers.  He needed to focus on the here and now.  At the moment a patrol ship and her crew were missing with two dangerous criminals suspected as being responsible.  His job was to figure out if the criminals were still in the system and what had happened to the patrol ship.  If he found them he was to neutralize them in any way possible.  Police work.


         Someone jacks your ship, call the local police.  Someone jacks your military ship, call MMC’s trained investigators.  Someone invades your planet, call SEALS.


         Tearing his mind away from the negative thoughts once more, Preesly looked down at the station schematics before him.  The sooner this was over the sooner he could get back to the Bema.  That’s just when the baritone voice of Preesly’s radio man, Lehan, called over.


         “Sir, I’m getting something from Wicks’ team.”  Preesly extended his arm and the large black man set down a small phone attached to the subspace radio on his back.


         “Preesly here.”


         “Tamaki just took off from Boragar.  I need you to give chase,” Wicks said right away.


         “I can’t just abandon my station before I’m done with my sweep.  We could have our other tango hiding out here.”


         “Tamaki hijacked one of our ships and used it to ground the rest of us.  We can’t give chase.”  Preesly raised his eyebrows at that.  Apparently one of the criminals was a lot more dangerous than he had anticipated.


         “I’m on it.”  And with that he slammed the phone back into it’s receiver.  He looked around at his men half-heartedly doing their assigned tasks.  This was a joke to them as well.  A loud and quick whistle brought all 11 - four of them being in the station’s security center to scan the area - before him and at attention.


         “What’s up Loot?  You’re lookin’ a little serious all the sudden,” Enric, the team’s best pilot said with a joking smile.


         “Wicks’ team just spotted Tamaki leaving Boragar.”  There were a few mixed curses at that.


         “Tell me we’re not the ones going after him,” Oeran, one of the snipers complained.


         “No shit, boss.  Can’t Wicks take care of it?” Haszer, the medic, offered.


         “Wicks and his boys were just grounded by Tamaki while he took off in one of their own ships.”  Everyone but Lehan looked surprised at that.  “Charlie, Delta, I want Tamaki neutralized before he jumps.  Preferably captured and do not under any circumstances blow his ship.”  The eight men nodded.  “Alpha, secure our ships.  If Ruki is onboard she’s not going to pull Tamaki’s trick.  Now move.”


         With a chorus of, “Hooyah!”s the 11 men took off instantly, eight of them running to their fighters and three more dragging out sentry guns and their preferred weapons while locking the remaining ships tight.  Preesly watched until half the fighters took off and exited the station before bringing up his headset and contacting Bravo, the team scanning security.


         “Mackey, how are we doing over there?”


         “Nothin’ yet, Chief,” the high, optimistic voice of Bravo leader answered back.  “I doubt our friends stayed long enough for a party.”


         “Team 2 just got grounded by Tamaki.”


         “You’re shittin’ me.”


         “Step up the work and make sure this place is clear.  If Ruki is around I don’t want to give her the chance to help him.”


         “Hooyah.”


         That done, Preesly cut the connection, got his gear ready and started directing the perimeter.


-------------------------


         Kenshi arrived back to the cockpit just in time to see eight CTG-45 IIs setting up an offensive formation around him.  He blinked once, surprised to see another SEALS team again so soon and sat down into the pilot’s chair.  Checking the navigational charts, he found he was only a few hundred kilometers away from White Sun.


         ‘Did they send a SEALS team to every population center near the Hassong system?’ he wondered briefly.  Looking around the eight fighters surrounding him, he tried to think of what they planned to do with him.  ‘Eight highly trained pilots surrounding me tightly and likely with every blaster and missile they can get tracked on me.  How do I get myself into these situations?’


         Waiting patiently for the ships to hail him and knowing he would never be able to take out all eight by his lonesome, he watched the group make minor adjustments to their formation, not even bothering to turn his shield on in case they might take it as an act of aggression and attack.  The radio beeped moments later and Kenshi answered right away.


         “What do you want?” Kenshi asked straight out, wanting to get this over with.  Whoever was hailing paused for a second, likely surprised at the swift answer.


         “Tamaki, we are escorting you into White Sun.  Should you make any aggressive move we will shoot you down.”


         Kenshi didn’t reply.  He just took one last look around the formations before standing from the cockpit and heading toward the ship’s weapons panel.  Pressing the nearly invisible activation button, the panel slid open.


         The inside of the small armory was much the same his ship once had with minor changes.  He searched around for a moment before spotting what he was looking for.


         First was a simple ski mask.  While it wouldn’t be necessary in a firefight, Kenshi didn’t want his new look to go around for the time being and the Boragarian gas mask was too constricting for his liking.  The other item was a stun gun, much the same weapon many old ladies carried around with them in the city streets as protection against muggers like the one he’d taken from Boragar except for the fact that it shot out a small ball of electricity effective up to 25 meters instead of shocking simply upon touch.  It wouldn’t kill anybody unless they were exposed to the shocks over a decent period of time, but it would knock a person out and screw up their nervous system for a good hour at least.


         Grabbing two of the submachine gun sized weapons, Kenshi made his way back to the cockpit to wait out the rest of the short trip.  He set both weapons to the side for a moment while lifting the ski mask over his face.  That done, he attached his old scouter to the side of his head - the motion tracker would definitely come in handy against a team of SEALS soldiers.


         The next five minutes were spent in waiting, every moment of which Kenshi became a little more tense.  There was no way these guys would give him the opportunity to fight back if he let them escort him all the way in.  He would need to break the formation and make his own landing then hope he could find the Quicksilver - if the Quicksilver was even onboard - before the SEALS team managed to take him down.


         ‘To hell if they know where Ruki is hiding or have any fast way to find out.  I can’t let them capture me.  I can’t die yet.  The titan...that information cannot be sold.’


         Kenshi turned off the autopilot when he was only 30 kilometers from docking.  He kept his modified fighter smooth inside the formation while fingering the switch to his shield generators.  The nine ships slowed themselves together, preparing for the last seconds of landing.  He took careful note of the formation and tried to find any holes in their escort they might leave for him.  There weren’t any, of course, but a split second of careful maneuvering could change that.


         Three of the fighters kept themselves behind Kenshi’s stolen ship.  Only the one directly to his rear would be able to keep a proper missile and blaster lock, the other pair in good position to find the same lock with a second of maneuvering.  The five ships toward his front merely closed him in, keeping him from easily breaking away.  Those five would need a few good seconds to turn around if and when a dogfight started.


         At a kilometer away, Kenshi could clearly make out the opening inside the hangar and the four turrets surrounding it, all four moving ever so slightly to keep a lock on his ship and proving they were manned.  None of the turrets would have men directly inside of them, instead being controlled in a more remote and secure location.  They could be destroyed without any loss of life.


         The lead ship’s nose was just inside the hangar when Kenshi made his move, his hands working more on reflex than thought.  The shields turned on, his retro thrusters were maxed out for a split second as he pointed his ship down and to the right where he punched his forward thrusters to the maximum while opening his blasters upon the turret directly in front of him.


         In the time of 2.43 seconds, Kenshi’s stolen CTG-45 II had maximum shields, broken the formation with the possibility of only four of the eight ships following within the next seven seconds and had the rubble of a melted and blown plasma turret in front of him being sucked into the great nothingness of space, all without the 12 hostiles around him firing a single shot.


         When the 2.43 seconds were up, three ships and two turrets had a firing solution on Kenshi and all five did not hesitate to use it.  The three ships all fired a single missile before joining the turrets in letting out a stream of concentrated plasma.  By this time, Kenshi’s ship had slowed once more to turn 65̊ before the incoming fire began to impact.  When the first plasma bolt hit, the quartet of afterburners on his ship were put to the test and Kenshi finished his 270̊ turn with as much speed as his stolen ship could muster, barely getting his thrusters ahead of the incoming missiles as they came in.


         The turn completed, Kenshi straightened out his ship and pushed the throttle to the limit as the stolen Raven sped toward three turrets and eights fighters, all spitting out fire in a never-ending stream of green or red light.  Plasma connected with energy shield, making the thin barrier crackle as it was gradually depleted against the overwhelming enemy fire.


         Kenshi ignored it all.  He ignored the shields dropping quickly and finally being torn apart under the heavy fire.  He ignored the hull melting under the constant stream and the occasional explosion when a thruster or blaster was taken out.  He only concentrated on entering the hangar.


         With the speed of a CTG 45 II to back him up, the fighters and turrets were passed within moments, though time seemed eternal when you were rushing headlong into a wave of glowing death.  When Kenshi was most of the way inside the hangar, he braked and turned, trying to land without causing any casualties and turn the ship away so he might exit without the incoming ships turning him to ash.


         When the limping and bleeding ship was safely on the hangar floor, Kenshi didn’t even bother to shut down the systems.  Jumping from his seat and bending to retrieve the two stun guns, Kenshi rushed out of his ship and into the hangar.


         The mechanics and civilians inside were frozen in shock, but Kenshi didn’t hesitate to bring his weapons up and start firing away.  Crackling blue balls of electricity the size of a baseball left the weapons with loud fizz, finally scaring the onlookers into action.  Men and women fell to the floor trembling and semi-conscious before his weapons, but Kenshi devoted most of his attention to finding the Quicksilver and the SEALS soldiers he knew were waiting for him.


         ‘Shit.’  Kenshi cursed when his quick glance showed no sleek, silver-hulled ships with 20 blasters and six missile tubes jutting out threateningly.  ‘It’s not here.’  He cursed again when he stepped forward and around his ship to hear the familiar sound of a sentry turret unleashing hell.  He jumped behind the ship again in time to see three dozen bolts of plasma pass where he had been only a second before.  ‘These guys really prepared a welcoming.’  From the area he heard the turrets, Kenshi found four blips on his motion tracker, all of whom were now slowly making their way forward.  Well behind him, Kenshi heard a number of ships enter the hangar.


         Cursing the overwhelming odds, Kenshi sprinted forward to hide between the maze of docked ships, loading and repair vehicles and heavy crates, sentry gun, assault rifle and machine gun blasts following his speeding form.  Behind him he heard his stolen CTG-45 II finally explode under the hail of plasma fire.


         Peaking around one stack of crates, Kenshi saw four men taking cover behind a number of crates and vehicles while six of the fighters landed.  The other two carefully maneuvered around the soldiers and few cowering bystanders to patrol the wide open space.


         ‘No way in hell I’ll be able to take out those fighters with the equipment at my disposal.  I’ll have too keep out of the open.’


         The sound of heavy doors sliding open brought Kenshi out of his thoughts and he looked toward the side of the hangar to see a number of large blast doors.  Private hangars, he remembered, his hopes suddenly raised.  Maybe Quicksilver was in a private hangar.  With it’s strange appearance and heavy weapons the ship would draw unwanted attention, after all.


         As if to confirm his thoughts, Quinn stepped cautiously out of the still opening hangar, visibly shaken and confused.


-------------------------


         A long-time veteran of a SEALS team who fought and survived during the Terran War wasn’t impressed easily.  Preesly had seen a man with nothing but a combat knife and the clothes on his back take out a monstrous Goliath - a tank with four plasma turrets and a powerful ion cannon.  He’d seen a lone fighter ship shoot down a fully armed and armored super carrier.  Once he had even been witness to a four man team inserting into a heavily armed and fortified base with a population numbering over three thousand in highly trained soldiers and the small team destroying the base and all those within while rescuing 207 POWs.


         Right now Preesly was surprised, but unimpressed.


         A single person just didn’t get the upper hand on SEALS teams.  No matter how soft they were becoming it just didn’t happen.  They were still one of the best trained sections of soldiers in the universe.  16 SEALS operatives just didn’t get beaten.


         But Wicks’ team had.


         And now the sonofabitch actually had the damn nerve to outmaneuver eight of his own men and get out alive and unscathed.  This guy had a way with being underestimated a lot, Preesly could tell, but he still had a long way to go if he wanted to impress the hardened soldier.


         From his position leaning against a battered baggage car, Preesly rested his weapon against his shoulder for a moment to click his scouter’s motion tracker on.  Beside him his three fellow teammates did the same while six men - four from Charlie and two from Delta - climbed out of their cooling fighters.  The hangar door closed, as per his own order, and soon Tamaki would be caged in with 12 angry SEALS operatives.


         ‘And many civilians,’ Preesly reminded himself as he saw a number of bystanders poke their heads out from cover.  “Everyone stay calm and stay down.  Do not move under any circumstances,” he called out loudly.  All around him, bystanders dropped to the floor and covered their heads or ducked into the different private hangars, locking themselves tight for the time being.


         The six men from Charlie and Delta made their way near Preesly, ducking behind cover and announcing, “Standing by, Loot.”


         “Delta, get your fighters in position around those ships.  I want Tamaki contained.”


         “Got it,” the Delta leader replied and turned to relay orders and positions to his men.


         “Charlie, group off and take flanking positions.”


         “Hooyah,” the Charlie leader confirmed and the four men took covering positions on either side of the Alpha members.


         Preesly took careful note of the many blips making their way around Tamaki’s area.  There were too many people around to make any sort of confirmation on where the guy was.  They’d have to sweep the area and tag everyone inside the whole mess.


         Swinging his body around and out of cover, Preesly went into a crouch and brought his rifle up, the butt of the gun pulled firmly to his shoulder and his eyes scanning hard into the pack of ships, boxes and repair equipment.  Around him, nine men did the same.  A quick motion to the right and Alpha’s support gunner stepped forward, taking point.  Together the ten men stepped forward, each covering a blip on their trackers symbolizing one of the people on the edge of the dense pack of ships.  It took a full minute for the ten soldiers to make their way to outer edges where they found a quartet of people laying unconscious on the ground.


         ‘He’s knocking them out instead of killing them.  Strange.  Fortunate, but strange,’ Preesly thought with more than a little surprise.  “Search by twos and tag everyone.  Keep alert.  There are plenty of good ambush points in there.”


         A few, “Hooyah”s announced they all understood and ten blips disappeared from the radar where the numerous civilians lay.


         Preesly paired himself with the Lehan and together they made their way toward the center of the area, the four other pairs spreading out around them.  One by one men and women were found, some unconscious and others covering their heads in prone positions, and one by one the red blips on the portable HUD started to disappear.


         “Shi...” one of the soldiers suddenly called over the radio and Preesly stopped in his tracks.


         “Role call,” he ordered quickly.


         “Lehan,” the radio man called first.


         “Stenbekker.”


         “Haszer.”


         “Oeran.”


         “Kilik.”


         “Enric.”


         “Axley.”


         There was a long pause.


         “Ikkerman, Rhanl, report.”  Another long pause.  “Alpha two, check up on ‘em.”


         “Yes sir.”


         Preesly looked closely at the scouter display.  Ikkerman and Rhanl still showed proudly as two green blips on one side of the area.  Should the pair be dead the blips would appear grey.  But why would Tamaki not kill them?  Had the pair just been lucky?


         A moment later a burst of gunfire sounded out.


         ‘The little bastard is crossing back and forth,’ Preesly realized when he noticed the sound had come from the opposite end of where Ikkerman and Rhanl had been.  “Charlie two, report.”  There was no answer.  “Everybody hold up.  Check your area and regroup on my position.”  Only four “Hooyah”s greeted this order while four green blips lay still on the scouter screen.  Tamaki was only knocking them out, it seemed.


         20 seconds later and only two men had made it to Preesly’s location; Stenbekker and Haszer from Alpha two.


         ‘Shit.  This guy is dropping us like flies.’  “Give me cover while I try to sort this guy out,” he ordered, hoping he could catch the guy on the tracker while he was running across the maze of ships.  No luck.  Everybody was staying put.  ‘He’s watching us right now, trying to figure out how to take all four of us down,’ the lieutenant realized grimly.


         Moving out of the triangle of cover the three men had made for him, Preesly motioned the men to follow and started walking toward the nearest manned fighter.  He kept his eyes on the tracker, hoping Tamaki would take the lure and reveal himself.  He did.


         15 meters behind and to their right, a single blip followed slowly, stalking them carefully while remaining out of sight.  Preesly continued toward the perimeter, knowing the fighters would provide good cover fire should Tamaki try an ambush.


         The four walked quickly, hoping to arrive into the open before Tamaki attacked, but Preesly knew it was a false hope.  The man had to know they were luring him.  As it was, just as they were about to break past a last stack of crates a nearly silent and somewhat strange buzzing echoed twice before Lehan and Haszer hit the ground with a few quick jerks.


         ‘Stun gun,’ Preesly thought.  ‘Why would he use a stun gun?’


         Preesly and Stenbekker spun around almost instantly, both aiming their weapons in the general direction they’d heard the noise.  A blip on the tracker showed Tamaki was on the move again, however.  Preesly adjusted his aim just in time to catch a dark form moving quickly from behind a large crane and into a group of dark shadows.


         “To your three!” Preesly shouted to his only remaining man and opened fire.  The form dove away behind a stack of boxes, the blip on his tracker moving unnaturally fast between the vehicles and crates.  Stenbekker must have taken note of the blip now as well as he turned to follow the movement alongside Preesly.


         The two men took cover just as Tamaki rushed past a last stack of crates, firing twin stun guns at the pair.  Both men took quick aim and fired, assault rifle and machine gun shots echoing around the hangar.  Tamaki had already moved out of the way, however, dodging left and charging forward.  Stenbekker stood up then, unleashing the full might of his HG-60 machine gun against the dark form trying to make it’s way forward.  Tamaki dove behind another set of crates, barely avoiding the plasma bolts as he did so.  He recovered from the dive surprisingly quickly, leaning around the crates and firing a single shot at the large black support specialist.  Stenbekker was jerked off his feet from the small electrical ball and let out a few spasms before lying still.  Preesly peaked out right after, but dove back behind a baggage car when he saw the same cackling blue light heading his way.


         Knowing the stun guns took a few seconds to recharge, Preesly jumped up from behind cover and charged.  Sprinting around the crates, he found Tamaki sitting with both weapons raised while he waited for them to ready themselves.  When he caught sight of Preesly he dove into a roll to try and search for more cover.  He was a second too late, however, and a single bolt of plasma hit him square in the chest just as he began his dive.


         Preesly had thought the fight to be over by that point, and by all rights it should have been.  Few people could stay conscious through the pain of a plasma bolt burning away inside their chest, much less keep moving, but Tamaki finished his roll, jumped up and started running.


         ‘He has body armor under that jacket?’ Preesly thought to himself, reasonably surprised once more.  This guy was turning into a real pain in the ass.


         The lieutenant shrugged it off and gave chase, keeping himself tense should Tamaki try another ambush with his stun guns.  He noted with some pleasure that Tamaki was moving toward the perimeter.  If Preesly could somehow corner Tamaki for a second or so out in the open no amount of body armor would save him from the powerful blasters of the two waiting CTG-45 IIs.


         He had just finished that thought when Tamaki suddenly appeared before him, snatching his assault rifle with one hand and shoving him away with the other.  Preesly stumbled and fell to the ground, caught off guard by the strength and speed the man seemed to possess.  He heard the clatter of the rifle being thrown away and looked up to find a stun gun being leveled against him.  Rolling to the side and grabbing his sidearm, Preesly shot back up again only to leap aside when the low buzzing of a stun gun announced it’s presence once more.  He raised his pistol and pulled the trigger once only to have the gun pulled violently away from him much the same as the assault rifle was, the shot skimming past Tamaki’s side.


         Preesly didn’t miss a step.  Using one hand to lay a quick punch across Tamaki’s face, the other reached down to grab his combat knife.  Tamaki stepped back to avoid the punch only to jump back when Preesly slashed forward with his knife.  Continuing with the slash, Preesly dove knife-first into a tackle, intending gut the man.  His target didn’t even try to dodge, just grabbed his arm and pried the knife out.  This time Preesly’s fist did connect, but Tamaki didn’t even stagger.  He simply grabbed Preesly and tried to get his struggles under control.


         Suddenly Tamaki tensed up and threw Preesly aside.  The lieutenant looked back in confusion just in time to see a number of large plasma bolts pass over where he had just stood.  Most of the bolts missed their marks, but a single shot managed to tag Tamaki’s leg, slicing a deep gash to the bone and sending the man to floor with short grunt of pain.


         ‘Did he just save my life?’ Preesly thought to himself while watching Tamaki pull himself behind a dirty old crane.  He looked behind the corner to see one of the fighters hovering into position, barrels smoking from recent use.  ‘He spared us all.  But isn’t he supposed to be a killer and traitor against the MMC?’  He looked back at Tamaki just in time to see a ball of crackling electricity connect with his neck.


-------------------------


         Kenshi let out a deep breath once he saw the soldier fall to the floor.  He grimaced as he looked down at his thigh, blood flowing freely despite the cauterizing effects of plasma.  Standing up, he was forced to support himself against the crane.  He felt along the plasma wound in his upper right chest, feeling at least a little lucky the plasma there had burnt out before the fighter had nearly taken off his leg.


         Limping back into the pack of ships, Kenshi tried to figure out what to do next.  There was a good chance Quinn had left by now, taking off the second she heard the gunfire.  But it wasn’t like he could reach her right now anyway.  To enter her private hangar he would need to cross through the open section of hangar where two CTG-45 IIs were waiting for him and cut through the doors to that hangar while still standing in the open.


         ‘Have to try, at least,’ he thought to himself, starting a search for a welder/cutter.  The search wasn’t long with all the equipment lying carelessly around, but as Kenshi peaked around a luxury cruiser he was reminded that there was no way he would be able to make it to where Quinn was, much less get inside, without being torn to pieces.  ‘Maybe...’ he thought when his eyes caught the familiar form of one of the unconscious soldiers.


         Pocketing the welder/cutter alongside his growing collection of weapons, Kenshi lifted the man and draped him over his shoulders.  Heading back toward his last ambush, two more of the unconscious soldiers were held to his back and sides, creating a makeshift armor he hoped would force the pilots think twice before shooting.


         The three men draped over his back didn’t seem too heavy to Kenshi’s new strength, but it still put that much more strain on his torn leg, causing him to limp even worse and his steps to become much slower.  It seemed to take forever to finally reach the open edges of the packed hangar and once there he had to force himself not to run back for cover and rethink this plan.  Crude was a word that should be in any good soldier’s dictionary, but this was pushing it.


         The two CTG-45 IIs turned instantly upon his entrance and he could see the four blasters of each adjusting to lock onto him.  Fortunately the pilots must have recognized their comrades were still alive and didn’t fire.  Kenshi made his way forward step by painful step, trying to ignore the fact that at any time the pilots could decide the mission was more important than the men and incinerate him alongside the three soldiers.


         Kenshi had limped about halfway across the open space when the two fighters set down.  Seconds later two men stepped out wearing bulky class three body armor and wielding assault rifles.  Both approached cautiously with weapons raised.  Kenshi stopped in his tracks to turn and adjust the four bodies to better cover him against the two approaching soldiers then continued on.


         “Hold it, pal.  Put them down and step away with your hands raised,” one of the men called in a firm, strong voice.


         These guys weren’t the usual cowardly pirates or grunts Kenshi had dealt with over the past few years, Kenshi was reminded.  These men were looking to get the job done and save their comrades, not their own skin.  A flash of Burlai, however, put some doubt into that thought.


         A quiet click and the sound of and object hitting the ground near him told Kenshi he’d taken too long to respond.  The object was one of two things, he knew, so closing his eyes and turning his head into the body draping his shoulders, he hoped it was the less lethal of the two.


         A flash of white was seen, even through Kenshi’s closed eyes, and thunder filled his ears, deafening him.  He opened his eyes and spun around, swinging two bodies he could barely see in front of him in preparation for the fight he knew would come.  Through the spots in his vision he saw the two SEALS men approaching once more, both shouting something - probably along the lines of ‘get down,’ or ‘we will fire.’


         Kenshi ignored both.  Instead he focused on adjusting the bodies once again, dropping one to hold two out in front of him with one arm while grabbing a stun gun with the other.  The two men screamed now, and Kenshi heard a muffled, “DROP IT!!!” but again ignored them and focused on aiming the short-ranged non-lethal weapon.  He fired the gun once, sending one of the soldiers into an awkward fall as he tried and failed to dive out of the way.  The second man started circling around Kenshi’s other side, obviously thinking Kenshi wouldn’t be able to turn fast enough under the weight of two muscular men wearing body armor and knowing the stun gun wouldn’t recharge fast enough even if he did.  He didn’t count on Kenshi suddenly throwing both unconscious men to the ground.  Nor did he count on Kenshi having a second stun gun and, in a mere second, there were no more SEALS operatives in the hangar left to fight.


         Turning back toward Quinn’s private hangar, Kenshi holstered the two stun guns, grabbed the welder/cutter and walked forward.


-------------------------


         A screw flew into the air, connecting solidly on the side of the large, shimmering silver ship.  There was no clang of metal impacting metal, however.  Only a small hissing sound as the small piece of iron disintegrated into a barely visible puff of black smoke.


         Quinn picked another small screw from the large toolbox and threw it lazily at the Quicksilver, not even bothering to try enjoying watching the object turn into another bit of smoke.  What did it matter, anyway?  Did she actually deserve such an enjoyment?  And if she did, was it even possible to salvage any?  She had killed a man for his ship and now she couldn’t even get the satisfaction of exploring that ship.


         Another screw was whipped out.  Another puff of smoke.


         She couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened had she simply asked.  Kenshi had seemed reasonable enough, if a bit unsocial.  He might have allowed her to stay.  Maybe even could have told her how to access the ship and whatever secrets it hid.  But Kenshi was dead and that meant the ship might as well have been too.


         And what about the MMC?  Could she truly be accepted back in?  How would she explain what happened in the past day?  Would they actually believe her?  Wouldn’t they pick apart her memories to every last detail whatever she said?


         No.  As much as her capture wasn’t her fault, she wouldn’t want to go back.  Quinn had heard of people being sent into backwater, no name systems in similar situations.  They could read off her memories, but they couldn’t go past a month or so before things would get sketchy and then it became a trust issue.  Had she really escaped, or was she a key part in the entire heist?  They’d be asking themselves that when they decided where next to assign her.


         But maybe that’s what she deserved.  She had killed a man, right? What right did she have to be happy?


         A loud crash startled Quinn out of her thoughts and to her feet.  She looked confusedly to the hangar door for a moment before sitting back down.


         ‘They must have let one of the ships off it’s jacks too quickly.  It’s difficult dealing with such heavy loads,’ she reassured herself.  A number of gunshots threw that thought out of her mind and Quinn jumped up again.  There was a small moment of silence followed by more gunshots - even louder and more numerous this time - finished off by a colossal explosion.


         Against all common sense, Quinn raced to the door and punched a button on the wall to slide it open.  The heavy metal opened excruciatingly slowly for the adrenaline-filled tech officer, but finally it cracked open enough for her to peak out and take a look around the main hangar.  What she saw made her feel all the more nervous.


         A number of MMC ducked behind the various equipment and crates littering the hangar, all peaking out toward a dense pack of ships and boxes in the center of the large room.  A few men jumped out of their fighters to join the rest of ground troops while another two fighters maneuvered carefully between the many objects to better cover the mess in the center of the room.  Near the hangar’s landing bay a single unrecognizable ship sat, twisted metal jutting out every which way and fires burning away where it’s power core and cockpit used to be.


         “Everyone stay calm and stay down.  Do not move under any circumstances,” one of the soldiers called out loudly over the engines of the two fighters.  Quinn didn’t hesitate to follow the order and ducked back inside the still opening private hangar, reversing the door to give her some semblance of cover for the coming firefight.


         Sitting back against the loader, Quinn felt butterflies making soup of her stomach.  Something wasn’t right about all this.  MMC were fairly popular around here, but this was pushing it. And how often did one see the MMC get into a fight like this?  Ravens too...  That meant SEALS, right?  This was too much.  Who would cause trouble like that this close to the Titan?


         A vision of a snarling Ruki passed through her head and Quinn quivered slightly, but threw out the thought.  Ruki would be long gone by now.  She wouldn’t know if Kenshi was dead and even then she had seen proof that the two weren’t nearly as close as stories had people believe. Just the opposite, in fact.


         But what was going on in the hangar?  Who or what was causing so much commotion?  Quinn decided not to think on it.  It didn’t matter.  Whoever it was would probably be dead soon anyway and Quinn could go back to being as depressed as she wanted about her current situation.


         Seconds wove on, however, with the occasional gunshot filling the air, making Quinn more and more curious and nervous.  What was a high priority criminal doing here anyway?  And even if they managed to defeat all of those MMC, what would they do next?  Find and slaughter everyone in the station?  Unlikely.  Run away and escape?  Something told her it wasn’t that simple.  A criminal that powerful wouldn’t find much in a backwater system such as this.


         ‘Unless they’re on the run,’ Quinn reasoned.  ‘Or searching for something in particular.’  A picture of Kenshi passed through her mind, but Quinn dismissed that too.  Kenshi was dead, as hard is it was to believe.  There was no way he could have survived the wounds and the desert, much less find her in this amount of time.


         Another vision of Kenshi passed through her head, this time of a pleasant and friendly Len Hower back in the titan before Ruki came along.  It was difficult to think that someone she’d gotten along with so well only a few short hours ago was dead by her hand for something so simple as taking his ship.  She brought her knees to her chest and lay her head down sadly into her arms.


         She was just beginning to forget the commotion outside when the sound of a cutter burning away metal caught her ears.  Quinn looked up to see sparks flying out on a wide ark through a thin line in the door.  The line spread upward ever so slowly, the cutter making sure to punch all the way through.  It was four minutes before a three by five foot metallic rectangle clattered to the ground, revealing a large figure in a long coat silhouetted against the light and smoke in the doorway.


         Quinn was waiting for him, crowbar raised as a makeshift weapon.  The figure ducked down and slid under the opening and Quinn took a threatening step forward, her crowbar lifting slightly.


         “I don’t know who you are, but you have no business here,” Quinn called out shakily to the man.  She hated how her voice seemed to do that in the face of intimidation.  Any more threats left her, however, when the man raised his head to look her in the eye.  The man wore a ski mask over his face, but Quinn recognized the eyes all too well.  She had seen that look when he had faced off against Ruki.  She had seen it when he had spoken of his innocence at Orlius.  She had seen it as she killed him.


         There before her stood Kenshi Tamaki with a killing glare meant for her.


         The crowbar fell to the floor and clattered noisily, but neither paid it any mind.  Quinn took a few steps back, Kenshi following her pace for pace, his sharp green eyes never leaving her blue orbs.


         She tried a few times to say something, but all she managed was a weak, “K-Kenshi?”  He didn’t respond.  He just kept walking forward in his threateningly slow pace.


         Quinn kept backing away, trying to slow the death she knew was walking toward her and knowing it was all useless.  Somehow Kenshi was alive and somehow he had found her and he was reasonably pissed at her.  Her backing ended finally when she tripped over the toolbox, landing hard on her rear.


         She didn’t even try to stand back up.  She just curled into a ball as if trying to ward off the inevitable pain to come.  The inevitable pain she deserved.  She felt herself shaking uncontrollably and saw Kenshi’s boots finally stop inches before her.  Quinn tensed her muscles and tightened her grip on her legs, knowing death was seconds away from coming.  Tears slid down her cheeks and a small sob escaped her throat.  She tried to get out a small ‘sorry,’ but she was too terrified and knew it wouldn’t do any good anyway.


         Then he started walking around her.


         Quinn was confused.  She peaked up to see Kenshi stop before the Quicksilver and stare at it’s strange shimmering effect before typing in the entry code.  The shimmering disappeared and the entry hatch slid open.  Kenshi never looked back.  He just walked in, closed the door and, seconds later, the Quicksilver took off.


         It was a strange knowledge to know that you should be dead but weren’t.  Quinn had somehow just cheated death, she knew, but a moment of thinking put reason to this.


         Kenshi wanted her to live with the knowledge that she ruined her own life.  He wanted her to know that she had once had the chance to share that ship and she had not only destroyed that chance, but also any chance she once had to be reassigned to anything of note in the MMC’s extensive programs.  She would live the rest of her life knowing she had ruined her own chances of happiness.


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         Kenshi stopped only inches from where Quinn lay curled on the floor, silently sobbing at her impending death.  He wanted to kill her.  She should be killed.  She had shot him and left him for dead.  He could feel his need to pulverize her as his fists tightened.


         But he wouldn’t kill her.  He couldn’t kill her.


         Who was he to kill her when he himself had killed known pirates before.  And wasn’t that what she thought he was?  Some big time pirate?  Hadn’t he helped Ruki, the greatest killer to haunt the universe, get away with information that could very easily kill billions?  No, Quinn had only done what she thought was right, what may very well have been right.


         Kenshi heard a strangled sob and saw tears start to flow down the mechanic’s cheeks.  He smiled sadly at the woman below him.  For a moment he felt like kneeling down and trying to comfort her, but thought better of it.  Who could a killer comfort?


         Walking around the scared woman, Kenshi headed for the Quicksilver.  He paused for a moment, wondering about the strange shimmering effect that seemed to surround the silver vehicle, but passed it off as a trick of light.  He punched in the entry code and walked through the hatch.  Closing the door behind him, Kenshi limped to the cockpit where he started a quick take-off sequence while he searched around the ship for the tracker.  He felt the ship accelerate into space just as he entered the bedroom.  Kenshi had just begun his scan of the room when a familiar nasally voice had him spinning around in surprise.


         “You need to be more careful with your possessions, Kenshi,” the transparent form of Ally said with a cocky grin.  “It seems someone broke into your ship while you were away.”


         “Ally?”


         “Nope, just a recording.  A genius like me is much too busy to watch over your ship - especially with your unlucky streak.”  Kenshi blinked and decided not to ask about how she would know his response.  A knowing smirk crossed her face at the unasked question.  “I’m a genius, Kenshi.  I know EVERYTHING.  Now quit looking at me like an idiot and get back to work.”  With that, the image disappeared and Kenshi was left with a dozen unanswered questions.


         Shaking his head, Kenshi did a quick scan around the room to find the tracker lying on the dresser.  Picking it up and turning it on, he let out a breath of relief when he saw the blinking red dot symbolizing Ruki’s position.  He zoomed in on the blip and let a frustrated sigh.


         ‘Haqnen II.  Why Haqnen II?’ Kenshi asked himself, exasperated as he made his way back to the cockpit and set his hyperspace coordinates.