Pioneers: Creation

Partridge

Partridge


         “Half of your usefulness is gone,” Sevantes said plainly when Aiston entered the large, daunting, dark chamber they conducted their meetings.  The prince’s responding scowl twisted his face uncomfortably as he continued to the center of the strange black sub dimension Sevantes used.


         “Petty immunity from blind noblemen?  You exaggerate,” the prince replied.


         “Within a month you will be a fugitive.  Can you claim to have the same influence, the same contacts by then?”  Sevantes’ white face was completely emotionless aside from a tiny, amused grin.  Somehow it made the cool room all the colder.


         “I will lose my position.  I will not lose my voice.  Some men will be bribed, others convinced of my innocence.  The MMC is, after all, one more display of the utter corruption of Midolloni.  Any power I lose will be regained through others I meet and create transactions with.  You worry over nothing.”


         “I worry over your growing uselessness,” the pale, dark-robed man said without batting an eyelash and it was all Aiston could do not to clench his fists in rage, much less order Yenshin to cut the man to ribbons.


         ‘He cannot be easily replaced,’ he thought.  ‘Few other men could claim to such...ability.’  The noble’s eyes roamed the room for a moment.  Such a display was little of what this man was capable of.  Aiston had seen for himself might beyond most men’s dreams.  The creation of simple power in it’s many various forms which was, as far as he could tell, Sevantes’ only desire and skill.


         “Do not dare to call me such,” Aiston said.


         “Then do not show me such.  Your trust for Ruki, for instance.”


         “She failed against a superior foe.  I despise the woman, but I will not lie to myself.  There are few better mercenaries.”


         “An interesting theory,” Sevantes’ voice said slowly, calmly and intensely arrogantly.  Snake-like was the thought which came to Aiston’s head.  “You trusted her to rival a man all records indicated she in truth trusted, respected, even liked.  Perhaps you might call that a good idea.  I call it foolish.”


         “She knows Tamaki better than anyone.”  At that Sevantes’ quirked his lips up a bit.


         “They’ve known each other for a bare three years.  I think there must be someone out there who knows him better.”


         “Who then?”  The pale man’s grin only widened.


         “That would be your task to find out.  Tamaki still has the data.  Find it.”


         “And your end?” said Aiston.


         “Rest assured, I have not chanced my end of our bargain to anything.”  And with that Sevantes disappeared in a flare of sickly green fire.


         ‘Bastard.  Just as bad as the woman,’ Aiston thought as he made his way out the sub dimension, Yenshin stepping in line behind him.  ‘As for Tamaki I will need somebody new.  No more Ruki.  The man has been an ugly thorn far too long for what he is worth.’


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


         Relaxing.  That’s all Kenshi felt like focusing on as he stood under the showerhead.  Painful still, but overall relaxing.  The water was hot, but not scalding.  Soothing, more like.  Comfortable.


         His fingers traced the tender wound at his side.  It’d take awhile to heal that, even with Ally’s help.  It was deep, but it was sealed and he could still function, even if it wasn’t at 100%.


         ‘She got it worse,’ he thought.  Ruki’s face flashed into his head, looking more like a rubber mask than anything.  ‘What the hell was she even doing there?  Did the Kerosia thing actually get to her?’  A new face appeared before his mind’s eye.  Tanned with long black hair and a slight, cold grin on his face.  Kenshi forcefully pushed the thought away.


         ‘Is she dead?’  The question echoed in his mind and the possibility didn’t sit well with him.  He remembered Orlius and the body count.  He remembered the steel mill, how he’d arrived too late.  The bar, the warehouse, the condemned space station.  He remembered the Titan.  He remembered Haqnen II, that pleading look on her face.  He remembered Cindelliac...


         Something pounded at the door over and over, knocking him back to the present.  Frowning, Kenshi winced a bit as he turned and called out, “What’s up?”


         “I don’t know!” Alanya’s panicked, if muffled, voice sounded through the door.  “There’s a bunch of alarms going off in the cockpit!  I think something’s wrong.”


         ‘Shit,’ he thought, turning off the shower, jumping out and pausing only to slide on a clean pair of jeans he’d set aside before rushing out the bathroom.  Alanya jumped back as the door opened, cringing at the sight of him, but he ignored her.  Kenshi could hear the alarms from the living room, though dimly, and once he made his way to the cockpit he found them blaring.


         ‘What the hell is this?’  The control panel was lit up with warning lights, as if the noise wasn’t enough.  ‘God...’  He glanced at them all in turn.  Radio, radar, power, stealth systems, weapon systems, engine...  ‘The fucking ship is shutting down!’


         Another light flashed on and a cold chill went down his body like a bucket of freezing water.  Hull.  The ship wasn’t shutting down.  It was being eaten away.


         The rubber face flashed again in his head and then a new one.  Ally, grinning madly at him.  “Say hello to my daughter, will you?” her nasally voice sounded throughout his mind.


         ‘She’s trying to kill me!  How, though...’  It was common knowledge you couldn’t attack in hyperspace.  A collision or serious instability would cause a massive explosion even if the weapon managed to fire without destroying itself.  So what was attacking them?


         ‘Nanobots,’ he realized.  ‘It was a backup, in case I proved too dangerous.  She’s stuck the ship’s damn nanobots on me.’  He sprinted to his room, nearly running over a frightened-looking Alanya, and fumbled the AC pistol from his jacket.  Sprinting back out, he made for the end of the corridor where a panel controlling the minuscule robots stood.


         ‘Please, God, let their one and only transmitter be in there,’ he thought, holding his weapon to the panel.  He fired, once, twice, five times in and around the control before he relaxed the gun.  The panel was a smoking ruin, barely recognizable from what it had been.  Turning, he started for the cockpit when a figure appeared before him.


         “Ally,” he whispered, then realized it was a hologram when the red-head’s image distorted and crackled then reformed.


         “I see someone managed to break into Kenshi’s ship, eh?” she said, the recording breaking and distorting at random.  “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.”  She let out a cackle that, between the breaking and sheer, nasally noise, had him wanting to cover his ears.  “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...”


         “Ally, shut the fuck up,” he growled and the image jumped again.


         “Oh, Kenshi?  It’s you eh?  I never took you to be the type to try and take your ship apart.  Surprising.  I guess I’ll deactivate the...”  The image jumped again, now replaced by a very angry-looking Ally.  “You clod!  You almost killed her!”  Kenshi gave the image a strange look.  Somehow he figured this one wasn’t a recording.


         “You both tried to kill me,” he reminded her.


         “Idiot!  Stupid, reckless, overly aggressive fool!!!” she screeched, something very unpleasant with that voice of her’s.


         “I take that to mean my ship isn’t destroying itself any longer.”  The little scientist fumed, then composed herself, smiling a familiar wicked smile at him.


         “Perhaps, but you have a lot of MMC out looking for you, doncha.  I wonder, with all the damage you have, how well you could avoid them if I...say...give them the frequency with which to track you.”


         ‘Fuck.’


         She smiled happily at him, waved and said, “Toodles.”  The image cut out and Kenshi ran for the cockpit.


         Alarms still blared, warning lights still blinked and the Terran tried to get an estimate of the damage and ship’s remaining capabilities.  It wasn’t good.


         ‘Stealth system turned off and unworkable.  Engines at 37% normal space, 20% hyperspace.  Radio, gone.  Radar, scrap.  Power 24% operational.  12 blasters and two missile tubes out.  Minor hull damage.  Nanobots, junked...’  He grimaced.  “And a partridge in a pear tree.”  The door slid open and he heard Alanya step in.


         “What’s wrong?” she asked timidly.  He chuckled a bit.


         “I pissed off the maker of this ship by nearly killing her daughter, who just so happens to hold the killing record, and she decided to get back at me by obliterating the ship while we were in it in the middle of space.  It’s ok, though.  Now we’re only severely crippled with a galaxy full of MMC closing in on us and no way for us to get away unless you happen to be a genius mechanic or have access to another ship which can outrun just about anything.”  He looked at her.  The princess blinked.


         “Oh.”  He frowned, tuned back to the navigation panel and started rooting through coordinates.  “What are you going to do?”


         “I have an idea,” he said, changing direction.  “It’s a longshot, but considering the circumstances there’s not much choice.”


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


         The results were expected, but no less disheartening or impressive.  Still, Terrace felt a cold anger well up inside him when Wicks and Jamerson entered his quarters and he made no attempt to hide it from them.  They were a like pair.  Young for SEALS leaders, barely taller than the average 5'5" of males in the galaxy and both humans with lean faces.  Both failures as well.


         They stood at attention when they entered and Terrace let them for a full minute, glaring between the two before he finally barked, “Report.”


         “We entered through the docking bay and immediately covered the area,” Wicks said.  “Jamerson’s team entered a main corridor and found a ship...”


         “What ship?” Terrace interrupted.


         “The Hindsight, sir,” Jamerson said.  “We entered, but found no hostiles aboard.  I moved to clear and guard then split my team and tried to take 11 men to the other main corridor.”


         “Was there not a fight?” Terrace asked, looking at Jamerson.


         “There was audible gunfire, but we received no request for backup.  Only the order to cover the ship and corridor.”  The commander looked at Wicks for clarification.


         “Identification of both main parties was confirmed.  I spread out my team throughout the docking bay and requested Jamerson sit tight in case one of the targets broke loose and tried to escape.”


         “And the second ship and corridor?” Terrace asked, a headache rising to his temples.


         “Sir, I thought it best to contain the targets and not spread out too thinly.”  Terrace sighed then nodded for Wicks to continue.  “Tamaki and a second party then entered a largely unseen fight from which only Tamaki emerged.  He then switched on all lights throughout the station which provided him enough distraction to separate our forces, cause one casualty and escape.”


         The commander placed a hand to his head, shaking it.  So many questions were bubbling in his mind.  “No confirmation on the second party?” he asked first.


         “None,” Wicks said.  “They were never encountered.”


         “And the corpse which was sucked into space in Tamaki’s wake?”  The two SEALS commanders only looked confused at that.


         “Nothing we knew about.  It was not one of our men or anybody we encountered unless it’s Tamaki,” Wicks said.


         “It’s not,” he reassured them.  The body had yet to be identified - the charred flesh and low pressure had decimated it beyond any recognition - but considering height details and the lack of anyone aboard the Hindsight, he had a good idea who it was.  “The casualty?”


         “My man,” Wicks said, closing his eyes.  “Petty Officer 3rd Class Von Dellanos.  He was in Tamaki’s way during the escape.  Tamaki hit him with the butt of his weapon hard enough to snap his neck.  He was dead before we could treat him.”


         ‘So he finally killed an MMC...  Damn,’ Terrace thought.  “Any traces afterward of the second party?”


         “None.  Completely disappeared.  We searched the place up and down, but they vanished into thin air,” Wicks said and Terrace scowled.  He opened his mouth to tell them the impossibility of that when a nasally voice interrupted him.


         “My, my, so much tension in this room.”  It sounded everywhere and nowhere at once and the three men looked around in confusion for the source.  The voice cackled.  “No you can’t see me.  I’m the token disembodied voice, you crazies!”


         “Who the hell are you?” Terrace grunted.


         “Me?  You can just call me Ally.  Or if you prefer, Alice, Alicia or plain old Al.”  Terrace’s eyes widened.  “Surprised, I see.  Guess you’ve heard of me, hmm?”


         “What do you want?” he asked.


         “My dear, it’s not what I want.  It’s what I can give you.  Or should I say am giving you?”  She cackled again at the trio’s strange looks.  “Right now your ship, Bema, is uploading and tracking a frequency.  That would be our mutual friend Kenshi.  Send him my regards, would you?”  She laughed, her voice fading creepily away as the trio looked at one another.  The commander clicked his intercom.


         “Bridge, report.  Have any outside sources breached the system?”


         “Yes sir,” Card replied.  We’ve been trying to contact you, sir.  It seems we’ve been given some sort of frequency.”


         “Find it and follow it,” Terrace said then clicked off the mic.  “As for you two...” he said, looking at the rather wide-eyed leaders before him.  “It seems you may get another chance.”


         ‘I hope, at least,’ he thought, though he did not reveal his worry.  ‘This could very easily be a wild goose chase, but without Cecile leading us there’s nothing else to go by.’


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


         It was warm and wet.  Comfortable, but not luxurious.  Like a bath almost, except she was standing.  Her eyes were heavy, her thoughts a blur.  What’d happened?  Where was she?


         With effort, Ruki slowly managed to pry her eyelids open.  She was in a tank of some sort, green liquid surrounding her.  And beyond the glass a lab stood.  A lab...


         ‘NO!’  Her muscles clenched, shook as the blur in her mind became a blank, blind fury.  Crashing into the glass, she screamed into the mask providing her air as the tank held against her assault.  Over and over she slammed herself against the glass until, finally, a thin sliver broke down the center.  That was then the focus of her attention and she continued punching, making the sliver stretch and widen until her cage shattered and the liquid dumped her to the ground.  She threw the mask off immediately, climbing to her knees.


         “Impressive,” a nasally voice called out and Ruki whipped around to find Ally grinning down at her from her seat on a table.  “I calculated I’d reinforced that one enough to hold you until I let you out myself, but I underestimated your aggression.  Congratulations.”


         “I hate healing tanks,” Ruki growled, standing up and finding herself strangely off-balance.  The room was much colder now, especially with the lack of clothing.


         “Unfortunately there was no choice this time.”  The tiny scientist jumped off the table and handed her the black exosuit.  Her smile was gone.  “You were lucky.  Your system was incredibly scrambled.  If I hadn’t come you would’ve died before your body could organize itself.  If you’d been standing your brain’s simple fall would’ve probably killed you.”


         Ruki stepped into the thin cloth armor and pulled it around her neck, taking the time to straighten it over herself.  The strange material read her mind, like last time, and gripped her like skin.  Something felt off, however.


         “What about Dav?” Ruki asked.


         “Dead.  Deep fried then deep frozen and finally put under vacuum.  That’ll be a tough one to officially identify.”  The pirate scowled, took a step and wobbled.


         “The hell...?”


         “I told you your body was extremely scrambled.  Because of this you couldn’t be fully healed.”  Ally looked away as she said it and Ruki knew right then the scientist had put up a shield to stop any assault she might launch.


         “Like...?” she asked, gritting her teeth.


         “Your face had to be manually reconstructed, some of your organs replaced entirely.  It was incredible your body accepted what it did.  Else you could have been crippled.”  Ruki grit her teeth harder.


         “But...?”


         “Your tail was detached before I could stabilize you and the replacement for it was rejected.  Three times.”  As expected the shield was up and Ruki felt her knuckles shatter mere centimeters before Ally’s face.


         “THAT SONOFA BITCH!!!  I’LL KILL HIM!!!  HIM AND THAT SPOILED WHORE HE KEEPS WITH HIM!!!”  She felt the warmth of energy gather into her hand and launched the red ball at the healing tank behind her, feeling some small satisfaction from it’s explosion.  She turned back to Ally, a demonic expression across her features.  “His ship?”


         “Crippled.  I set it to self destruct, but he managed to stop it,” Ally replied, her face pink in something between anger and embarrassment.


         “Good enough.  Where is he?”  The small scientist handed over a tracker.


         “I gave the MMC his transmitter frequency as well.  Between how beat up his ship is and everyone after him, he’ll get worn down fast.”


         Ruki grinned, said, “Good.”  She could break him like that.


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


         Things had calmed down considerably for Quinn since the Titan, Boragar and Quicksilver incidents.  She’d have thought there’d be some follow-up, but in the wake of Ruki and Kenshi she’d been forgotten.


         Uncharhin, the Wenlin store owner, ended up having a reasonably extensive business and, after she’d stumbled back upon his meager clothing booth, had set her up in a nice chef’s job at a restraunt.  It was stressful at first, wondering when some investigator or another would turn up, but as time went by she’d become comfortable in the life she’d fallen into, if bored.


         Orders came in, food went out, she came and left then slept in a three-room apartment she’d been given until she could move up the pay ladder.  Time off would be spent in the docking bays watching ships land and take off, pressing through the energy bubble keeping the atmosphere inside as crews tuned up equipment around her.


         Sometimes she looked at the Quicksilver schematics Kenshi had never taken off her as if they were a book, reading through them, studying details, questioning - always questioning.  There seemed little point in it, however.  Without the ship before her to see and touch all the best questions would go unanswered.


         Quinn delicately flipped the data pad between her fingers, staring at the dirty white ceiling of her apartment.  It was dim to match up with the dusk hour.  The docking bay was largely emptied with few ships due in during the night.  Stuck between being bored or being very bored and comfortable, she’d chosen the latter.


         A knock sounded at her door.  Quinn glanced over, her fingers clumsily dropping the data pad, thinking, ‘Uncharhin must be short-staffed again.  Why doesn’t he ever learn no ships doesn’t equal no business?’  She stood up, opened the door and felt her heart skip a beat.


         “Miss Hower,” Preesly said in greeting and Quinn glanced at the hulking Sventh behind him.


         “Wha...?


         “Miss Hower, I believe’s it about time I asked you a few question about that ship Kenshi Tamaki stole from you.”


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


         ‘How can a man look half dead and relaxed at the same time?’  Alanya asked herself this many times over the hours, watching between random hv stations and the Terran laid back on one side of the large L couch, arms over the cushions, feet over the coffee table and skin sickly pale.


         Kenshi drifted in and out of sleep; sometimes his head was tilted back, other times he’d be watching the hv as well, raising an eyebrow or letting out a barely audible chuckle depending on what she’d switched on.


         ‘Hates sap, enjoys wit,’ she noted.


         Eventually he stood up and went for the materializer, coming back seconds later with an enormous glass of water he began chugging from.  She raised an eyebrow.


         “Thirsty much?” Alanya asked.


         He swallowed his current load and spared a moment from his drinking only to say, “As hell.”  She smiled a little at him.


         “So what’d you do before you were a soldier?” she asked.  Kenshi took awhile in answering and by the time he set the glass down it was only a fifth full.


         “School,”he said, leaning back again.


         “Nothing else?”  He shook his head and closed his eyes.  “Well haven’t you ever wanted to do anything else?”


         Again Kenshi took awhile to respond and Alanya soon began to think he’d fallen asleep when he said, “Haven’t known much else in a long time.”  He turned his head, glanced at her from the very corner of his eye.  “I grew up where military was a key necessity.  Soldiers were heros and I wanted to be the best.  Maybe for a time it was the thought of some glory, but mostly I just wanted to be able to take on the universe all by my lonesome.”  He grinned.  “Guess we’re testing that now.”  Despite herself, the princess grinned back.


         “Didn’t the war end, though?  Before you could join, I mean.”


         “Was recruited early,” he said and the grin fell from his face.  “I never got a piece of the war, only training.”  He chuckled a bit, a slow, deep sound signaling it wasn’t only humor he laughed at.  “By the time that was over the war had been ended for years and I didn’t even know it.”


         “Wow,” was all she could manage.  Kenshi turned his head to her.


         “What about you, girly?  Got some career all laid out for ya?”


         She forced a smile at him, said, “I dunno.  Some kind of politician somewhere.”


         “That what you wanna do?”  Shrugging, she looked down at the table.


         “I dunno,” was all she said and they both left it at that.


         It was a half hour later, she guessed, that the alarm went off.  Alanya went rigid, but Kenshi calmly stood up and said, “We’re there.”


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


         “He’s moving slow,” Rykov said, stating the obvious for everyone in the meeting.  Terrace was silent at one end of the table and down the line various holographic images of the Captains and Commanders traveling alongside him were arranged.  Card and Rykov sat at either side of him with Wicks and Jamerson another seat down while Baragossa, the lower half Admiral he’d taken Bema from despite rank, sat expressionless at the other side of the table.  In the middle a holographic map of the galaxy had been zoomed in to focus on Kenshi Tamaki’s supposed location.


         Terrace frowned at the lack of response.  These people hated him, he knew, as well as any decisions he made.  The upstart who, despite rank, was leading them all and had thus far shown little for his efforts.  Looking down the table he saw them all staring purposefully at him.  He had to hide his scowl.


         “Avoidance of the destruction of his ship is clear,” Terrace said, repeating information they all must know.  “Between Alanya Midolloni and the Titan information, capture is by far the primary course of action.  Now, despite being cornered multiple times by SEALS teams, Kenshi Tamaki has completely avoided capture thus far.  To add insult to injury, if it were not for an inside source he would have completely lost us in this latest maneuver of his.  I am opening this meeting up to any and all recommendations of dealing with this situation.”


         Again there was a period of quiet.  Then, “We should shoot him down,” Rivera, some gunship commander said.  “This is a titan we’re talking about, gentlemen.  We can rebuild our own without the data, with effort, and the girl, while a tragedy, is unimportant aside from the emperor’s personal feelings.  The danger is too great, I say.”  Terrace expected that response somewhere down the line, but what surprised him was that a full third of the table vocally agreed.


         ‘How many of them quietly agree?’ he thought.


         “That is not what our emperor would want,” Keruone, the battlewagon captain, shot back.  “Our actions reflect on his will and, daughter or no, she is an innocent hostage.  We cannot cast her aside.”  Rivera, and many others, scowled.


         “And risk the lives of everyone?” somebody Terrace did not recognize shot out.


         “This is the second princess you’re talking about, man!” another unrecognizable holographic image from the other side of the table shouted.


         And like that the argument started.  Half the officers were arguing against shooting down Tamaki, a third for capture.  The rest watched silently on, taking in the ugly image of a couple dozen men of leadership squabbling.  Terrace was among the latter.


         The argument did not last long.  After the loud clearing of one’s throat the room quieted itself and it was then Terrace realized Baragossa was finally going to put in his say.


         “This is no way to strategize, gentlemen,” the aging Terran admiral said and Terrace felt a pang of guilt and anger at that, though he let neither show.  “Our...leader has already made it clear our primary objective is the recovery of the data and our second princess intact and well.  This does not, however, include the survival of Kenshi Tamaki, Ruki or anyone else who might stand in the way.  Am I correct?”  The last Baragossa said staring coldly at Terrace.


         “You are,” the lesser officer said to his subordinate.


         “Then I advise a kill-on-sight policy toward both Ruki and Tamaki until both objectives are recovered.  Are there any arguments?”  Nobody raised their voice.


         “Your plan is sound, Admiral.  Rykov, make sure every MMC in the galaxy aware of this decision.  Ruki and Tamaki are to be considered armed, resistant and extremely dangerous.  Wicks, Jamerson, I want all SEALS teams aboard the Bema aware of this as well.  No negotiations.  I also want them all combat ready at a moment’s notice.  Card, Captains, I want the same instructions to all marines.”


         “This seems very over-the-top,” Fillers, a well-regarded destroyer captain, put in.  “The - for all intents and purposes - assassination order could backfire in public eye and continuous combat readiness...”


         “I want no more mistakes,” Terrace replied.  “Kill-on-sight must be stressed as a necessity, a final option against ruthless enemies.  I also need instant response should infantry be required.  I believe we’ve all seen how Tamaki can slip through our fingers and there should be no doubting Ruki’s abilities.  Is there any other disagreement?”  The only answer was the occasional shaking of the head.  “Good.  Dismissed.”


         And like that the holograms disappeared leaving the commander, his two aides, his primary SEALS leaders and Baragossa left seated in the room.  Slowly they stood up and filed out as well, quietly, not once looking at their commander.  Then it was Terrace left sitting alone in the room, wondering when and if his only other plan might come into play.


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


         Kenshi placed his hand on the young princess’ head before he left his ship, quirking his lips up as he did so.  Alanya didn’t flinch or change expression in the least.


         “Keep inside,” he said.  “I’ll be back in no time.  Maybe even grab some clothes for you on the way.”  She smiled a little at that.


         “Will they be after you?”  He did his best to smile warmly at the girl.


         “They won’t even know I’m here.”


         Relief washed over the girl’s face and she nodded and turned for the living room.  Kenshi watched the door close behind her and with it his smile fell.  Adjusting the coat on him, he placed the scouter to his eye and unholstered his pistol.


         ‘God damn, this is gonna hurt.’


         Opening the door, he instantly jumped outside, pausing only a moment to close the hatch behind him.  In the space he’d stood four streams of plasma scorched the hull of his ship.  His reflexes were on the mark, though his side was still raw as hell.  Pulling the AC pistol into both hands he aimed in quick succession.  One, two, three , four.  And just like that, in barely above a second’s time, four men were laying on the ground clutching their right shoulders.


         One of the braver army grunts reached painfully for his dropped rifle.  Kenshi merely walked up to the man, kicked the weapon away and tagged his other shoulder for good measure.  The others toke note.


         ‘It looks the same,’ Kenshi noted, scanning the docking bay of White Sun.  ‘Only without as much plasma and CTG-45 IIs.’


         He walked briskly, still holding the gun in two hands with his wounded side pressing the scowl to his lips more than the urgency of the matter.  Civilians watched from a distance, some recognizing the threat and scampering to hide amongst the maze of ships and equipment on the one side fo the room.  In front of him, where the hangar opened up to the market beyond, two more unfortunate grunts came running out and near instantly fell down as if clotheslined, both clutching their right shoulder.  Kenshi kicked their rifles away in passing, but did not further glance at either.


         Shop owners and buyers alike gave him a wide berth as he passed and his scowl deepened when his continuous scanning brought no sight of the pretty blonde he was searching for.  Then four more MMC came running around a bend, weapons readied.  It didn’t help much.  Four shots echoed and in a line four men fell, each tenderly holding the same wounded right shoulder.  His fingers deftly clicked the magazine release despite one remaining round and he let it fall, slapping in a new clip.  Whimpers and murmurs surrounded him now, but still his ears easily made out the gun being cocked behind him.  The Terran whirled, barely registering his target before firing.  A fat shopkeep holding a shotgun spun as he fell, dropping the weapon.  Kenshi spent one more round into the gun then whirled again, scanning the space before him for anyone else who might choose to play hero.  No other civilian dared cross him.


         After 50 meters Kenshi grew tired of the blind search and turned to one of the merchants.  The man immediately backed up, stumbling when he hit the wall.


         “Dirty blonde hair.  Pale.  Noticeable Evenall accent.  Pretty.  Where is she?” Kenshi rasped, his gun pointing directly at the human’s head.  It wasn’t he who responded.


         “Yho lookhing for Hhower, yhes?” an enormous white and brown Wenlin asked.  Kenshi frowned at the name.  So she was hiding here after all.  He’d predicted her good.


         “Where is she?”


         “Nhone will tell yhou.  Leave.  Thhis is a pheacefhul plhace.”  Kenshi pointed the gun at the Wenlin’s table and pulled the trigger.  The beast-man roared in pain, stumbled and fell, his enormous hands clutching his foot.


         “Try again.”


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


         At the commotion Quinn turned her head toward the door.  Out the window to the station soldiers were running past, fully geared for war.  When she looked back she found Preesly and the yet unnamed Sventh were giving the men the same questioning looks.


         “There’s nothing else I can tell you, gentlemen,” she said after a moment.  “The tracking frequency is the only one I know of and if he destroyed the transmitters it is without my knowledge.  I own no trackers.”


         “She knows more than she says,” the lizard rumbled.


         “Less than you think,” she replied cooly.  “And nothing of use.”  The Sventh said nothing to that.  Meanwhile Preesly fingered the datapad, lost in thought.  Then they heard the unmistakable, if faint, sounds of gunfire.


         Immediately Preesly stood and the Sventh unholstered a foreign weapon from somewhere on his even more foreign, and altogether bulky, armor.  They waited together, quiet, breathless.  Then two shots fired off close by and a pair of soldiers ran by the front window.  A flash of red went past followed by another gunshot and Quinn heard a muffled grunt of pain.


         “The hell...?” Preesly said, pulling out a pistol all his own.  Another gunshot, right next to the door and another flash of red went by the window.  The two men in the room raised their weapons.


         ‘What’s going on?’ she asked them rhetorically.


         In hindsight she guessed she should’ve called it.  Sure there was no direct evidence leading up to such a conclusion, but how many other possibilities could have existed?


         The front door slid open electronically and the Sventh immediately sprayed the opening with what was apparently a small SMG.  Only nobody was in the doorway.  The outsider’s gun fired twice, shattering the plated glass window and a dark figure smashed through.  Preesly and the lizard unloaded into the man, but were too slow to catch the figure in the doorway who quickly fired another pair of shots, forcing the Sventh the flinch back and Preesely to fall to the floor, unarmed and grasping his shoulder.


         ‘Kenshi,’ Quinn recognized in an instant.  The Sventh tried to focus his aim, but the Terran would have nothing of it and spent another three rounds knocking the weapon from his hand, hitting his shoulder once more then tagging his knee, bringing him to a kneel.  Kenshi stepped forward quickly and the Sventh tried to stand, his hand flashing for another weapon.  The pistol whip was almost more painful to hear than to watch and just like that the lizard was knocked unconscious.


         ‘What’s he want from me?’ the blonde asked herself over and over, backing up until she was pressed to the wall.  She watched him step beside Preesly who, though glaring, was smart enough to know it was a lost battle.  The boot to his head was quick and brutal and knocked him out easily.  Kenshi leaned forward and took the Quicksilver data from his fingers.


         “Good to see ya again, Quinn,” Kenshi said in that familiar rasp, slowly standing and looking at her.


         “Same to you, Kenshi,” she said, voice not breaking the slightest, though her heart felt about ready to snap her ribs.


         “Quicksilver...”  He said the word as if tasting it.  “You like technology.  Appreciated that ship.”


         “Yeah.”


         “Can you fix it?”  Her eyes widened, jaw dropped.  “With the data and right equipment could you fix it?”


         “I...I dunno,” she said, voice finally breaking.  “Maybe.  It would depend.”


         “Good enough.”


         “Wha...?”


         “Follow,” he interrupted.  “You wanna be involved with the best tech again?  Here’s your chance.”


         A thousand voices in her head spoke at once, nearly all telling her how bad an idea this was.  The worst criminal around, most wanted man alive.  Dangerous, deadly, untrustworthy.  Kidnaped another girl as well, she heard.  The emperor’s own daughter.  What would he do when she had no more use, especially after she had already betrayed him?  It was a bad thought - one her mind forced through.  But then there was that one single thought which whispered louder than those thousand screams.


         ‘When will I get another chance like this again?’


         Kenshi watched coldly as ever as she pushed off from the wall.  “Ok,” she said.


         “You have 30 seconds to pack,” was his only response.  She didn’t hesitate further.  Running to her room, she grabbed a bag and stuffed as many clothes and hygiene products as she could into it.  When she ran back out Kenshi was pulling his jacket from the pile of glass in front of her window.  Shaking it out, he threw the scorched coat over his shoulders.


         “Let’s go,” he said, walking out the front door with Quinn right on his tail.


         The street was emptied completely, a rather unsettling departure from the usual.  Together they made it ten steps before Kenshi ducked behind a merchant’s stall, Quinn having to process the action a moment before she moved to follow.  She watched Kenshi waiting patiently for something, his eye on the scouter, and Quinn peaked over the table of miscellaneous fine household items to catch a glimpse of an unknown number of grunts geared up in heavy armor and weapons.


         ‘I’m no specialist in guns, but I know he won’t be able to punch through that armor easily with that pistol,’ she thought.  Yet still he tried.


         Leaning around the corner he took one shot before taking cover again and murmuring a low, “Fuck.”  He closed his eyes, leaned back against the stall.  She saw his hand move to his side, watched him wince as he gripped it.  For the first time she saw how haggard he looked.  Since they’d separated he’d taken a bad beating.  Still, he had a very familiar look of determination etched across his features.


         Gunfire erupted from the unknown number of soldiers and Kenshi pushed her to the floor.  The plasma cut through the merchant stall like it was paper and she heard Kenshi grunt.  When she looked up at him it was easy to see the burned slice at the side of his neck where he’d nearly been killed.  Rage came over his face and he moved quickly, running as best he could in a crouch to another stall ahead.  There she lost sight of him.


         For her part, Quinn remained as flat as she could and was glad for it.  Gunshots sprang up across the large corridor, ripping apart most everything between the weapons and the walls.  It was a few moments in which she realized the number of weapons firing was dwindling and a few more when she heard it stop altogether.


         “Quinn?”  If she hadn’t known better she would’ve thought the rasp sounded worried.  The engineer pushed herself up, her eyes quickly focusing on the beat-up figure in front of her.  His neck was bleeding and he leaned awkwardly to his side, but he was alive and the grunts around him...


         She gasped, taking it all in.  There were six men surrounding him, all breathing, all bruised, all unconscious.  Kenshi had fought them hand-to-hand.


         “Let’s go,” he said and she numbly followed, staring at the bodies as she passed.


         They made it to the merchant center when Kenshi stopped again.  Quinn nearly threw herself onto the floor expecting another gunfight when the Terran turned to a clothing stall and began throwing assorted items over his shoulder.  Pants, shirts, skirts - it didn’t seem to make much matter.  She doubted any of it fit him, but there he went.  The strange look couldn’t help but come over her face, especially when he took a pair of shoes obviously a few size too small and threw them under his arm.  Then he continued along as if nothing was wrong with this picture.


         Outside the main corridor the hangar was as empty of life as the rest of the station seemed to be.  Disquieting, to say the least.  There were no more army grunts to block their escape - it seemed they’d spent their troops in a blind rush.


         Next stop wasn’t the Quicksilver, though it stood in plain sight.  Kenshi motioned for her to stay put then stepped up to one of the many docked ships, pulling out his bypass pad and unlocking the hatch quicker than she’d ever seen.


         ‘He’s done this often.’  The Terran was in and out fast and by the time his foot hit the ground the long speeder was floating in the air, aiming itself for the energy bubble between air and vacuum.  By then Kenshi was already accessing the next ship and in another few moments a second ship was floating.


         “Alright,” he said, stepping out of a luxury yacht.  “Let’s get outta here.”  She gave him a questioning look as he passed by and, despite how much pain he looked to be in, he smiled.  “A trick I picked up a couple years back.  Really annoys potential pursuers.”


         “I’ll take your word for it.”


         Stepping up to the dull grey hatch, she watched him punch in a passcode.  The door slid open revealing the same undecorated corridor she’d run for her life from what seemed like years ago.  Kenshi stepped in and looked back, for once patient with her.  Seconds passed before she could move her feet and, glancing back at what she could be leaving behind, she stepped into her dream.


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


         “White Sun reports they can no longer resist Tamaki.  He’s already neutralized most of their standing force,” the radio man of Bema’s bridge said when Terrace entered.


         ‘One of these days I’ll really have to get around to memorizing their names,’ the commander thought in mild annoyance.  At least Ally, or whatever her name really was, had given them good intel.  Strange.  “He’s fast,” Terrace murmured, just loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.  “Is everyone in position?”


         “That they are,” Baragossa said, standing from the command chair.  Terrace nodded at him.


         ‘He’s fast as well,’ he thought.  “Good.  And Tamaki’s status?”


         “I’m reading three ships prepping for takeoff.  One is the ship we’re tracking,” the navigational officer said.  Terrace frowned at that.


         ‘He’s not trying to pull Ruki’s trick, now is he?’


         “Sir, they’re taking off.”


         “Crippling fire on all three ships.  They nor their life support systems are to be destroyed,” Terrace ordered.  The radio man relayed the order while the rest of the bridge watched on, expectantly.


         The first ship out of the bubble was hit immediately by a nearby gunship, swerving and thumping harmlessly against the side of the station.  The next was propelled blindly forward, it’s engines blown.  The third ship out was more crafty.  Surrounded as it was, it blew out the bubble like a bat out of hell, following the craft with the blown engines.  The first wave of plasma missed entirely as the long, foreign gunship opened it’s blasters and blew the yacht to pieces then sprinted between the wreckage.


         The confusion to follow was enough to hold off any attacks for a precious few seconds while everyone tried to get a bead on Tamaki which wouldn’t destroy him outright.  Those few seconds, it seemed, were all Tamaki needed.  Flashing once, the gunship disappeared into hyperspace.


         “Send one ship down and get a team in to check Tamaki really left.  I want everyone else on his tail,” Terrace said gruffly.  “Update me on any changes.”  With that he walked out of the room, not so much as waiting for an answer of confirmation.


         ‘Gutsy little fly,’ he thought, making his way back to his quarters.  ‘How the hell are we ever going to pin him?’


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


         “Get to the living room.  Tell the girl to brace herself,” Kenshi said as he stormed toward the cockpit, not even bothering to check if Quinn did as she was told.  Quickly strapping himself in, he started the ship up.  His eyes moved to the viewscreen as it blinked on, toward the transparent bubble showing space beyond.


         “Damn.”  Ally had done exactly as she’d said.  He had a small fleet waiting outside for him.  ‘Wish I’d prepped more ships.’  It was too late for that, however.  Even as he thought it the speeder automatically made it’s way to the bubble.  Barely had the ship cleared the station when two intense red beams blew against the side of it, smashing it back against White Sun’s hull.


         “Fucking hell.”  They weren’t taking chances.  At least it wasn’t an all out assault.  Crippling fire...  ‘Might be able to use that.’  The yacht was hit in the rear, blowing an engine which propelled it fast out into space.  Kenshi grimaced.  ‘This is gonna be ugly.’


         Pushing the thrusters to full, Quicksilver hit the bubble with the force of a train wreck.  Weak as she was, the ship pushed through the impact and jetted out to space where he immediately pulled her away from the incoming fire.  The first wave was only the beginning, however.


         Looking at the combined support and gun ships in front of him, all he could think was, ‘It’s like looking at a God damn firing squad.’  Then he saw the yacht and blasted toward it, plasma blazing.  ‘Kenshi, this is a really bad idea,’ he thought even as the ship blew under his fire and he rushed through the explosion.  It felt sluggish.  Faster than his old ship, but he’d grown somewhat used to Quicksilver’s speed.  He didn’t bother thinking on it.


         Setting his hands to work, he punched in the hyperspace controls and prayed his blind rush wouldn’t take him through a ship or star.  There was the feeling of mild disorientation then the stars were flashing by.  Kenshi rechecked his direction and punched in a course.  That done, he leaned back into his chair in relief.


         “Talk about pushin’ luck,” he whispered, smiling faintly.


         After a few moments rest, he finally unbuckled himself and, wincing, stood and made his way toward the living room.  Both women looked at him as he entered.  They were scared, he saw quickly - Alanya more obviously than Quinn - and both clutched the sofa like a lifeline.


         “You didn’t just make a blind jump, right?” Quinn asked.  He had to suppress a wince.


         “Hmm?  ‘course not.”  She looked like she didn’t entirely believe him, but the engineer let it go.  He looked between the two pale women and sighed.  “Alanya, this is Quinn and vice versa.  Alanya’s second princess and an...uh...accidental hostage.  Quinn’s here to fix the ship.”


         “Pleasure,” Alanya said politely, if nervously.  Quinn smiled and nodded back.  He threw the blonde the Quicksilver data pad.


         “We have at least one transmitter hidden aboard.  Hyper and regular engines are running low, power systems scrambled, weapons mostly offline, radar, radio, stealth systems...”


         “Good God, Kenshi, what did you do?” the engineer asked, her accented voice in an almost admonishing tone.  He grimaced.


         “Almost killed the daughter of the maker of this ship.”  Both women blinked and his grimace twisted harder.  “Long story.  Can you fix it?”


         “That’s a lot of damage.  Quicksilver has an auto repair system, however.  What happened to that?


         “What do you think did the damage?”  Quinn’s eyebrows raised.


         “Oh.”  She looked at the datapad, started reading through it absently.  “I’ll see what I can do, but much of the repair will probably have to take place within a liveable atmosphere.  Or I could try to fix the repair system and let that do the work, but that could take a long time and it sounds like this ship is too damaged to hold out in hyperspace for long periods anymore.”  Kenshi nodded, thinking.


         ‘So I have to hold this ship out against a likely continuous attack until it’s repaired.  Shit.’  He paced the room, rubbing the thin stubble coming back to his face as the two girls stared.  ‘I can’t switch ships, the heat’s so close and my ship so slow I won’t be able to lose them.  They’ll be regulating any and all traffic for me.  After this they’re not going to hold back so much.  They’ll take more risks, shoot down anything which tries to get by them.  There are no major settlements nearby to blend into unnoticed and Quinn’s right that Quicksilver won’t be able to keep up this jump.  So that leaves holding off a small fleet of ships for...’  He looked at Quinn.  “How long would it take to fix?”


         “Everything?  It’s hard to say.  Two weeks maybe, if I can get the auto repair running.  That’s just a guess, however.”


         “What about necessities?  Transmitter, engines, power, stealth.”


         “Not much less.”  Now Quinn was grimacing and he could see plainly she thought she’d made a terrible mistake.  Kenshi grit his teeth at that.


         “Might as well get to work, then.”


         “Kenshi, maybe it’s time to just turn yourself...”


         “No!” he interrupted.  He closed his eyes and he could almost see two red, cat-like ones staring laughingly at him.  “No.  I’m holding out.  You’ll fix the ship or you won’t.”


         “How exactly do you plan on doing that?” Quinn asked, beginning to look peeved.


         ‘The million dollar question,’ he thought, looking away.  ‘No money to hire mercs.  No safe house.  No friends...’  He scowled.  “With difficulty.”  He turned to Quinn.  “So will you fix it?”


         “I don’t know.  Do you have a plan to hold them off?”


         “Yes.”


         She stared at him for a long moment, then, sighing, said, “I’ll get on it,” and walked out the room into the corridor.


         ‘But I don’t know if it will even get off the ground,’ he finished in his mind.  After a moment he glanced toward the princess.  The girl was scared witless.  ‘Gotta pull things together or she’s gonna get hurt in the crossfire.’


         “What’s going to happen, Kenshi?”  He sat down beside her and kicked his legs up onto the table.


         “I’m gonna win,” he said, giving her a lopsided grin.  She didn’t look all that amused.


         “I didn’t know things were this bad.”


         “That’s how it happens sometimes.  Just gotta do what you can to get by.”


         “What are you going to do?”  She looked up at him, two brown eyes staring innocently from a pale face.  Like a sheltered little child.  He patted her head.


         “Whatever I have to.  Even if I gotta make a false old rumor true.”  At her confused look he smiled at her.  “I tell ya I got you some clothes?”