(Continued from the OP)

The blast doors reopened as Cesar and Huxley approached. The bridge was contained right at the very heart of the ship, and had reinforced walls and doors so that boarders or other Sand ships couldn’t destroy it easily. It was also situated at a crossroads, with a corridor straight ahead and one to either side. At the end of the long hall dead ahead were a set of stairs made from the same metal decking as the floor. Shafts of bright sunlight illuminated them from above, they lead up onto the top deck. “Megara tells me you haven’t been sleeping well.” Cesar boomed as they began walking toward it. Most of the doors they passed were closed and some had not been used for years. “Yeah well, she’s right.” Huxley yawned. “Wanna tell me about it cousin?” Huxley had often wondered why and indeed where Cesar had acquired an accent so distinctive. It was all rolled Rs and quick, harsh sounds. He had toyed with the possibility that Cesar just put on the accent to seem more travelled. When quizzed about it he would always throw up some unreliable nonsense about ‘staying a spell on Earth’.

They clanked up the steps to the ship's top deck and for a moment Huxley couldn’t see anything at all for the blinding sunlight. The gunmetal grey top deck was originally flat but had been repaired so many times it had the appearance of a patchwork quilt, with bumpy sections threatening to trip anyone moving in a hurry. Self-cooled cargo crates overflowing from the hold were scattered about and geriatric auto-turrets patrolled the gunwale on powered rails and swivelling axes. For now they were the only people up top. The coils of old rope and unwashed blue deckchairs that the crew used to relax in were empty; the only other signs of life were the circling ragwitch birds that followed every Sandship around. They flew high in the sky, cawing loudly and diving down to show off their red plumage as they snapped up smaller mammals or insects.

Huxley and Cesar walked to the gunwale and leaned over, drinking in the claustrophobic morning air. Big white letters stencilled onto the side of the Sandship showed its name: Heracles. Sloping armour contrasted with jutting buttresses that held auxiliary jet propellers. The ship’s hull pinched into a snout at the bow to give more protection. Looking down at the sand, Huxley knew the Heracles powerful hovercraft propellers kept it suspended a meter in the air on a cushion of compacted air. Tiny shrubs clung desperately to rocks which big lizards bathed on. Competing with the sound of engines and ragwitch cawing was the incessant rustling of millions of crickets. Billions of creatures called the desert home, but most of them were just too difficult to see. The desert stretched out for miles all around, towering dunes obscured clear view and seemed to shift like a giant towel in the wringer; the sun reflecting off the sands and the pockmarks on the Heracles’ hull made Huxley look away.

“I’m dying, cousin.” Cesar said, dusting flecks of sand from his shirt and beard. Huxley looked round. “It was analysed last night, my heart implant is rejecting.” Huxley gulped back any words, looking down at his bare feet. Brown and calloused. Finally he asked “How long?” “Between one and three months. Less if i don’t take it easy.” Huxley looked at Cesar. The tall and indomitable man he had been introduced to last year had definitely diminished. His broad shoulders were sinewy and slouched, his barrel chest had become paunchy and unhealthy. He had greying hair now and his eyes had lost the twinkle they once had. The rugged privateering adventurer had given way to wizened old man. “Can’t we fix it?” Huxley asked, following Cesar as he moved to a pair of deckchairs and sat heavily down.

“Not now, not after leaving this cut-price pacemaker in there all this time.” The Captain boomed with a grin, patting his chest. “How has it taken this long to show up?” Huxley asked, a tinge of red coming to his face. “Who knows cousin, but that is not what i wanted to talk to you about. I know you’ve only been aboard for a year and the crew don’t respect you yet, but i want you to succeed me as Captain of this ship.”Cesar said, taking a pair of dark sunglasses out of a shirt pocket and popping them on. Huxley wished he had some sunglasses. “Now, i know what you’re thinking: Cesar, how will i make the crew like and respect me enough to vote me in as Captain. Well i’ve been thinking and the answer seems clear.” Cesar waited for Huxley to ask, but it didn’t come; the young man was deep in thought. “We’ll embark on the biggest quest of our fair vessels lifetime!” Cesar finished, beaming at the brilliant idea. This woke Huxley from his stupor. “What did you have in mind?” “I don’t know quite yet, but something will come. I can feel it.”

Minutes past in silence, Huxley was seconds from making to go and grab breakfast when Cesar’s holopad chirruped noisily. Pinching the screen, it flew into the air and solidified into an array of information and pictures. “It’s a distress signal, from our friends on the Wombat.” Cesar said, standing up suddenly to take a better look at it. Huxley stood too. A red ping on a 3D map of the nearby desert, showed the location. The Wombat was technically the Heracles’ sister ship, being built to exactly the same specifications, in the same batch and by the same corporation. Huxley remembered heading over there for a party in his first week when both ships were docked at the same town. The crew had been kind and shared wine with them all night. Cesar was looking at him. “We are low on ammunition and medical supplies, and we don’t have any idea what is causing them distress.” After a moment Huxley realized the Captain was asking him. “I say we go in and scout the situation. They need our help and it isn’t too far off our original course.” He said, gesturing to the map which had developed contours and suggested routes. Cesar broke into a wide grin full of tombstone teeth. “Now you’re starting to think like a Captain!”

An Outer District of Babylon - Clear Point Clinic

---

Ayah found peace in the darkness. The stillness of water encapsulated her entire being, entrapping her senses within a pool of crystalline silence. Long days of rigorous fieldwork. Long nights of lab tests and analyzing data. The morsels of freedom her hectic schedule spared were spent rejuvenating mind and body. Things like high-end robotic Cespora chambers that deep tissue massage over-stressed muscles, or revitalizing meteor rock-heated body spas, and Zero-G Yoga. Such luxuries were never taken for granted during these grace periods, for they so desperately contributed toward her sanity's upkeep.

The Doctor’s recent muse currently has her suspended within a retrofitted cryo-pod. Its engineered cooling fluids contain slight hallucinogenic properties, and ambiance is maintained with a virtual reality HUD. Ayah didn’t care for the VR HUD. Instead, she requested that her pod be in a private room with little-to-no lighting, and that a noise-cancelling sealant be applied to the pod door. Within the confines of this peace chamber, patented simply as the “Life Pod” from Clear Point Industries, Ayah felt an overwhelming amount of calm. It felt as though she were lucid dreaming, though no matter the state of her psychological temperance, would always remain in a visage of tranquility.

For a human with cognitive augmentation that is constantly overworking the brain's processors, the ability to clear your mind and focus solely on the state of simply being… was a godsend. No partitioning between problem solving dozens of tasks, while analyzing the complexities of dozens more -- all while examining patients and/or attending board meetings via neural HUD implant, as she physically coordinates EIS teams to survey hazardous environments.

No, within this Life Pod exists none of the sort.

It’s as if her brain becomes a squished sponge that drains out all of the unwanted thoughts, leaving her with the ones long forgotten. Ambitions. Dreams. Love. Memories. For but a moment in time, she remembers what it was like to be human again. Within the confines of this Life Pod, she can be vulnerable. Exposed. However, like all good things, such sensations of freedom are but momentary lapses within the chaos that is her life.

A mechanical chirping noise slowly reverberated into Ayah’s skull, thrusting her into consciousness. Within seconds, the silk-like gelatinous fluid drained out into the large pipes that veined into the ceiling. Her eyelids slowly lifted, revealing azure sea stones that quickly shifted into irritated ocean tides. She brought up a finger to press “Open” on the pod window’s touch screen. The sound of crackling sealant followed the vibrating hum of the pod door's hydraulics as it unlocked and slid open. As she exited the chamber, a momentary state of drowsiness passed through her.

Whoever the hell is trying to contact me better have a damn good reason.

She grabbed the lavender robe laid out on a small table next to the pod and draped it around her. With a concentrated wink, a HUD appeared in her left retina.

--Incoming Call: ID: 144143AI09 Dr. Grathias Matronillo--

She clenched her teeth as she read the name of her overseeing supervisor. He was recently assigned to her division just last week, straight from BESC operations. He was a boy scout who played everything by the book. Never been out on the field. Never seen what an evolved nano-virus from a defunct Mind could do to flesh and bone. And worst of all, had no decency for protocol, especially when his subordinates were off the clock and on some much needed R and R.

--Accept?--

She winked 'Accept' with an agitated frown.

“Sir, with all due respect, I was granted a ‘no-contact’ grace period for a reason. You should already know by-“ The lecture she planned on giving Dr. Mantronillo about the importance of her off-time was hastily cut off.

“We’ve got a problem!” Grathias blurted out. Ayah sensed the panic in his voice.

“What is it, sir?” She immediately rushed over to the other side of the room and fetched all of her belongings from a touch sensitive locker unit.

“The contaminated cargo carrying the G-II virus in that wrecked sand-ship we surveyed... It, it was en-route for pick up, but it never reached our Laboratory. We tried calling the transfer team but we didn’t get a response back.” Ayah’s quickened pace to get dress slowed to a momentary halt.

“What!?” She yelled in disbelief. It was as if her brain had glitched before suddenly kicking back into full gear.

“W, we’re assuming the transfer unit got ambushed by pirates. Got ahold of the cargo. Shit, Ayah. If people get exposed to that…” G-II, or Golathius Strain, is a terrible flesh-eating virus mutated from the dead carcasses of sand worms. Dr. Ayah was the EIS officer that personally coordinated the sterilization of the sand-ship that contained the G-II, seven hours ago.

“I shouldn’t have handed the operation over to you. I should’ve known that this would be the more plausible outcome with you left in charge…” Ayah’s tone grew more aggressive, but it still retained its cold indifference.

“Now wait just a minute-“

“Do be quiet, Mantronillo. Leave rational thought and logical reasoning to those who are far more capable. File your report to your BESC superiors while I clean up the defecation of your incompetence.” A forceful wink severed communications with her supervisor. In the time spent conversing with Mantronillo, she had dressed herself fully into a form-fitting EIS enviro-suit, messaged her bodyguards Lucy and Edgar to pick her up at the rooftop of the clinic, and dispatched a neural link to her hazmat squad and EIS security teams to rendezvous toward the sand-ship’s last pinged GPS coordinates. She shot a glare at the Life Pod and nodded disapprovingly.

“Should have never stepped into the bloody thing...”

“You know, i remember when i first met the captain of the Combat Wombat.”Cesar gravelled, adjusting the course a fraction. “Of course, it wasn’t called that back then. Back then it was the Hebride or something, to match the sister ship.” He swung an arm around, motioning to the Hercules in general. Cesar had decided on a whim that he didn’t want to go back below deck to command the ship, so had brought the bridge up to the topside. He and his technicians held a variety of holo-pads which projected a mass of dark blue interface into the morning air. Using their whole bodies, they could control the ship up there just as well as down below.

The vast desert before them was growing choppier. Huge sand dunes towered in front and to either side. They passed the carcass of a similar size Sand ship which might have long ago had useful parts, but it had been picked clean. The sand had been churned up all around it, showing telltale signs of Sand skimmer skirmishers. Pieces of metal embedded in the sand alongside charred bodies. Cesar manipulated the ship with a sensitivity which rivalled the greatest lovers, weaving it towards the blinking red light which indicated the distressed sister ship.

“I was introduced to her at a bar in Edessa - she was a good drinker! - i remember her saying she wanted to buy the ship from our then contractor, make it her own you know? She was a woman with vision.” He laughed like an old steam engine, puffing out the consonants with unnecessary power. “We bought our ships at around the same time. I remember proposing our own prospecting company, but she didn’t want to. Said she worked better alone and that was it. She left.” Cesar’s face was grave and motionless. “Three klicks and counting.” the ensign said, breaking the silence before it could solidify. Huxley, who was eating porridge out of an aluminium canteen cup in a deckchair behind him, stood up before the Captain could turn around. “I’ll get the crew ready.” He rattled down the stairs, eyes half-blinded in the semi-dark. A tannoy announcement preceded him. “All crew, to battle stations. We are now on amber alert; possible combat situation. All security are to tool up and head to your assigned sector.” “You heard the man, let’s go go go!” Huxley called, clapping his hands together as people appeared out of a few cabins.

He made his way to the Heracles’ main armory and found his security team were already there, hefting guns and melee weapons from the racks with practiced ease and strapping body armour to their tattooed, scarred bodies. They were tough, many had already bled while protecting the ship and its crew. In actuality, Huxley was the only permanent soldier aboard, the rest having been recruited from a private security agency. They were free to go at anytime but loyalty was sewn into the fibre of their being - and the pay was good. Huxley made a bee-line for his number two, Thatcher. A huge Dutchman with a dirty blond ponytail and beard, his seven foot tall presence dominated the armory. He often boasted over a few pints in the mess that he could trace his ancestry back to the First fleet that colonized Outremer.

“Thatcher! We gotta move.” Huxley shouted over the metallic din; he maneouvered past his men till he was at the man mountain’s side. “What’s the situation?” Thatcher asked, the scar on the side of his head wiggled when he talked. “Don’t know yet, the Combat Wombat has sent out a distress signal. I need you up top and everyone else is on battle stations.” Thatcher nodded, attaching his huge warhammer to the mag-holster on his back. Huxley turned so he was facing his team. Most were fully tooled up and waited expectantly for his orders. “Get to your stations and await instructions, make sure you are signed in to the ship’s battle net so we can talk. You know the drill, get moving!” Huxley called, before motioning that his lieutenant follow him. He waited patiently for everyone to file out of the armory before grabbing an assault rifle from the racks and leaving the way he came.

Tess spun, her HUD highlighting targets in red outlines, they were everywhere. To most people, the stream of information provided by the HUD would have been overwhelming. It displayed everything from friendly fields of fire to enemy positions and even current weather conditions, but with training, you could prioritize what you saw and what to pay attention to. And right now Tess was prioritizing, anything that wasn't her or her comrades, and had a gun, needed to die. There were several in her area, they went down with three shots to the chest. Behind her, Bines was doing the same, dropping targets as they both moved to cover.

They had selected that specific area for rope insertion for one reason, it gave them an excellent position to cover the elevator banks, where the rest of Fox team was currently fighting off waves of drug crazed gang members. The enemy had their backs to them as they pumped fire into the planter. A bad idea they would soon come to regret as Tess and Bines rained down a hail of fire on them. "CP to all units, close air support has been authorized, danger close, keep your heads down." She balked at the radio call, CAS in this area? Sure, the majority of the people now in the park were armed, but apartments ringed the open space, not even to mention the floors below, which the munitions could certainly punch through. This could quickly turn into a cluster fuck.

"Fox Three, swing right to the boulders and hold." "Received, we're moving. On the overhead battlefield map, she saw a familiar outline appear, moving quickly. The gunship. It settled into position outside the large windows that looked into the park, what was left of them anyway. Tess could see the line of fire for the chaingun, a thick blue line, as it swung around the courtyard, silent for the minute. "This is Babylon Executive Security Command. Return to your homes or we will use deadly force. Jack Thegn, exit the vehicle with your hands up and you will not be harmed." Many of the civilian combatants were focused on the gunship now, trying to figure out whether to run or shoot at the new arrival.

"Fox Three, move to Alfa now, get them to the stairwell."
"Its a bit crowded over here, you sure?"
"Everyone is focused on the gunship, and we've got you covered."
"Got it, Fox Three moving."

Bines was already waiting, marksman rifle leaning on a trashcan, hitting anyone who dared take interest in the four grey figures sprinting behind them. Finally, they slid behind the corner. "Fox Three in position. Alfa is in bad shape. Give us some cover and we'll exfil." "Got it Fox Three, on your go." She almost punched the air, success. The booming loudspeaker interrupted her silent celebration. "This is your last warning." Shit "Bines, lets move." Together they bounded towards the downed hovercraft, hoping to get confirmation of the kill.

Suddenly, the relative silence of the cease fire turned into a combined cacophony of small arms directed at the gunship. The gunship responded in kind, spitting hot lead at the miscreants. It pulped bodies and scenery anywhere it looked, sending chunks of masonry flying. Thanks to FOF identifiers, it should hit anything near Tess and Bines. Something to be grateful for. Movement flashed from the corner of her eye, and she turned just in time to see a figure tumble out of the door of the car, before taking off down the park. A split second later, the car too was pulped by rotary cannon fire. That could only be one person.

"Bines! On me!" She yelled as she sprinted towards the figure. Obstacles yielded easily to her. The metaphorical toolkit she had to conquer them was large, there would be no stopping her. Bines kept up at a respectable pace, but it was clear he was struggling, lacking the fluidity of movement and stumbling several times. "Stop running!" The fleet footed figure didn't listen however, disappearing into a stairwell instead.

"The Hell is going on," Re commed.

"Bit of a firefight. Well, more like a lot of one. Area's frakkin' swarming with BESC and civilians alike, all busy shooting each other. You may want to stay out."

"Stay out, Jey? It's like you just met me," Re said with a grin. "Why would I pass up an opportunity like this?" Jey muttered something in response, but he wasn't paying attention. It was probably just something about how dangerous it was. People loved to talk about that, even when it had no chance of changing someone's mind. He jumped out of the car, pulling out his EMP blaster. He fired a potshot into the crowd, hitting a BESC grunt. He put it away, though, knowing that most of the stuff there would be too heavy duty for a handheld EMP shot. Instead, he pulled out his rifle; switching the settings over to rapid fire/vec charge, he swore. There were too many people among the BESC for him to fire. Then something caught his eye. Someone had slipped out of the crowd and was trying to get off the building.

"Jey! Get me ident on that man there. Fast!" About a second later, a display opened in his vision. He blinked, then checked again. "Motherfrakkin' hasp," he muttered. That was Jack Thegn. He saw some BESC running after him, and fired some shots in their general direction before leaping down to head in that direction himself. What better way, he thought, to be a thorn in the government's side than keep them from catching one of their most wanted criminals. Anyway, Jack might owe him something if he saved him.

Several things happened in the instant following Jack exiting his hovercar, the first of them being that all six of the gun ship’s armaments fired into the courtyard simultaneously. Jack knew that Liberator Mark Twelves could fire twenty thousand rounds a minute; he also knew that the firing of weapons onboard was handled by the often trigger happy munitions officer aboard it, not a Mind. For this Jack was thankful because a Mind would have undoubtedly zeroed in on him with lethal accuracy and he would be dead in seconds. The second thing that happened probably didn’t happen for everyone because Jack initialized a very expensive temporary nervous system implant embedded at the back of his neck; dramatically increasing cognitive ability and adrenaline production for a short time. It knocked him out like working seventy two hours on the treadmill afterwards but it was required here.

Immediately things changed, Jack’s field of vision narrowed and became more defined. Time slowed down till it seemed like everyone was moving at less than half the normal speed and Jack got a burst of energy which carried him across the threshold of normal endurance and instilled a dose of animal urgency which started paying off straight away. Jack set off at a slow-motion sprint, knees up high and chin lowered. He perceived a horrifying music coming from behind him, but realized it was the pounding drums of six active auto-cannons. The Liberator series was out of date and the ship’s weapons obviously hadn’t been tuned in a while because the spread was all wrong. Bullet tracers rocketed past their intended target at horrendous angles, biting into locals to the left, right and front of him as he powered through. People seemed to dance on the spot, ripped to bloody shreds. He noticed people who had found cover with their mouths forming complete ‘O’ shapes as they screamed to one another. A dismembered arm flew into Jack’s field of vision, he swatted it away from him.

Locals were still firing back, one such specimen stood boldly in the middle of Jack’s route; firing at the invaders with a rusty bangstick. Seeing the well dressed criminal storming right at him, he turned the archaic shotgun on him. Jack hit the deck with a cat’s agility as the burst of buckshot steamed above his head. Rolling acutely along the floor like a ball, Jack uncurled in front of the man; using all his momentum he smashed his shoulder into the man’s chest, wrestling the weapon away from him with one hand as the local fell. Deftly pumping another shell into the chamber, Jack held it at arm’s length and destroyed the woman who ran at him with knife raised over her head. He dropped the shotgun on her corpse. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack’s brain informed him of the heavily armed BESC personnel that were rappelling from a gantry just to the left. Adjusting his course, Jack turned on one foot at a right angle to them, heading for a tiny stairwell near a cluster of market stalls.

It was here that his supercharged mind comprehended the diabolic nature of the situation. Hundreds of the locals were still firing rabidly at the gunship and at BESC in general, the ground was strewn with dead. Little girls were dragging their mutilated fathers back behind cover, trying to patch them up before taking them to safety. A cluster of Tindrel were arming a pan-pipe like weapon which spurted blobs of energy. A lone Scyvi was tending to seriously wounded, its ceremonial garb covered in blood.Their expressions dragged out at half speed. A BESC team emerged from the stairwell, Jack pivoted again, zigzagging hastily to avoid the storm of energy that came hunting for him from their weapons. A hallway, much closer, revealed itself. A quick look behind confirmed a duo of lithe BESC enforcers were now in hot pursuit; Jack made like the Geococcyx that had become his family’s crest and accelerated rapidly into the ill-lit corridor.

Frontier Space. A forgotten planet orbiting a White dwarf star. A belt of rocks, asteroids and moons hung in its orbit like a horizontal avalanche against the eternal backdrop of the universe. The planet itself looked still, dead and lifeless. The God Weapon had completely written off most of the world as uninhabitable centuries ago. The once vibrant ecosystem it maintained had been turned to glass, it was the only planet of the three to survive the bombardment. The other two became unstable and fell apart. Bright lights illuminated the orbiting debris surrounding the planet; crustacean-like ranches clamped to the sides of rocks barely bigger than the colonies themselves, self sufficient homesteads populated by Tindrel too proud or too poor to leave their old home’s presence. The system didn’t get many visitors, so when the Hyperion exited hyperspace dangerously close to the Dead Planet, all of the colony-group’s meagre vessels flew up to greet it.

The Hyperion was originally built by humans on Earth as a kind of Royal Yacht , to ferry various dignitaries around known space on goodwill trips, publicity stunts and conferences. Several years ago it had gone missing. All the crew were sent unconscious back down to Earth in a lifeboat as the Hyperion zoomed away. It had undergone a makeover since then; the regal red paint job was gone, replaced with a menacing matte black. The eagle perched atop the Earth insignia was gone too in favor of the three curls of the Tindrel Collective. The inside had retained most of it’s luxurious fittings, but had been misused by the crew. The antique 25th century furnishings were tarnished with food stains and blood. Wrappers, old ammunition casings and all manner of detritus littered the carpeted floors. Lewd graffiti was scrawled on the walls, ‘No room for humans’ and ‘Dyjranja eats skag shit’.

The Hyperion’s bridge on the other hand was spotlessly clean. All of the navigation and control equipment had been vastly upgraded; a new console had been added directly behind the Captain’s chair (which had been modified to suit the various Tindrel physiologies) to accommodate the new suite of ship’s weaponry that had been installed. The Hyperion had not originally been considered a craft created from combat, so the bridge looked out directly into space through a curved plate of toughened glass rather than hide in the belly of the beast. To counteract this weakness an ugly shield generator that sat on the Hyperion’s nose now protected the craft via kinetic barriers. It was a multi-species ship now, but each different alien detachment had their own sleeping quarters. However slight, the Tindrel had superiority, with their quarters being closest to the bridge.

Captain of the Hyperion, Ganka Horza Outremer Sciarker, stood at ease in one of the observation rooms. The Dead Planet sprawled out below him from behind a thick plate of glass. A big Gorrompek, he wore a network of scars up and down his arms from a past J’arden’tor, Trial of a Hundred Cuts. The observation room, once a place of relaxed luxury with lots of soft couches facing an artificial fireplace had been converted into a storage room. The Captain still enjoyed coming here occasionally, to get away from the constant noise and people asking for direction. Unfortunately he couldn’t avoid it this time as his number two, Brabat Kang Outremer Flitch, buzzed his way in and stood to attention by the door. “Captain, people are requesting to come aboard.” Tindrillian, the manufactured language of the Collective, was a very harsh and brutal sounding tongue. It encompassed a combination of very precise clicks and other throat sounds with long sweeping words and animalistic vocal ranges. "Bring them aboard. Make them comfortable in the least shitty reception area; i will be with them soon." The Captain replied, waving his lieutenant away. As the door buzzed closed he returned to his thoughts, staring down at the Dead Planet below.

Big brother, outside Babylon

The tiny gyros through out his body let his navigation systems know that big brother was keeping them steady. His optical sensors took in every detail as he began his link up. His audio sensors had been internally adjusted to dampen the incredibly loud Aircraft, and explosions that were taking place all around him. He had been evading the sand pirates for exactly 27 minutes and 34 seconds. And Big brother ran out of places to lose them in. The optical link was up, a small cable ran from the base of its skull to the rifle he layed prone with. He had clear sight of the pirates now, including top down view of their current location. He could zoom in or zoom out as much as he wanted. With a link to a satellite he was like what organics referred to as god. He adjusted for wind, speed, height difference, and predicted location. He squeezed slowly as he ran the calculations up until the projectile escaped the barrel. His body moved slightly from the massive electromagnetic discharge. The bullet flew at incredible speeds, so fast that it almost didn't register inside his processing unit Almost. The gunship behind them veered off, a hole the size of a grape fruit in the windscreen. There was no more pilot.

The other three ships soon followed suit, as he adjusted and fired almost immediately after each shot. His synthetic brain could calculate everything he needed within 1/10th of a second. Too slow by his standards. Each ship would list off and explode upon the ground in a firey display. The time elapsed was 27 minutes 39 seconds. He canceled his link to the BESC satellite, and recovered his grear. He placed the hand of god into its proper storage container before flipping up the "Ramp up" lever. He turned to walk to the cockpit before he heard a child's laugh. It had him haulted. He looked around, his audio sensors readjusting. "Danny?" His voice very scratchy, unlike other robotics he didn't originally have a voice modual. There was no call back, and with that he continued forward. He stepped over a deceased member of the crew he belonged too. After Danny had died, Sid deemed all crew members non-essential save for Big Brother. He eased himself into the cockpit, allowing big brother to direct them towards the city. Days earlier he had been awakend, or maybe he had been all along. He felt no different, just that with out Danny he had no reason to be. Yet he was will operational. With this in processor, he decided to continue their work, no clear ultimate goal.

Several hours later

BigBrother finally could see the outskirts of babylon.
It adjusted altitude so that it matched the skylanes, it looked out of place with scorch marks, and sand stripped paint. It pinged Sid who was deep in his programming to notice the scenery.

"Crewman Sid, Crewman Sid. Approaching Dragon's Lair" The gentle tone of big brother throbbed through out the cockpit mainly inside of the ICS ( interior communication system ) that sid was plugged in.

He didn't understand why BigBrother Had been programmed to say such things. He didn't even know what a dragon was. Something he needed to add to his list of things to research. He closed out the program he was fixing, it happened to be his own "awareness" patch. Which allowed him to navigate through crowded or compact locations, but also general locations such as.. The ship. He allowed the patch to download before standing up, going down the ladder, he pulled his cloak from the shellf, and grabbed Harbinger hiding it under his clothing. He flipped the hood up, and waited at the cargo door. The patch had taken several hours more to download now they were deep in the lair.

His purpose was information solely, he needed new contracts and who better to get contracts than one of the local organics, in Dragons Layer, or Babylon as most call it. BigBrother passed over what seemed to be a large firefight. He used his optical zoom to inspect, surely enough a gunship was blasting away at a building. There were small arms return fire as the resistance tried to futility fight back.

"BigBrother, scan comunicstions, find me their leader and quick I want a direct line to my audio."
BigBrother patched into the Taliga's cuiser with illegal technology that had been traded for information on SandShips locations but not before allowing Sid in on what was happenin currently but no information on before events. Soon a voice emitted from their cruisers speakers. "Organic Overseer, You are in need of assistance. I will do so for Equipment, information and future contracts."

Still hovering just outside the tremendous rent in the wall on the forty first floor of the Project Tower was one of BESC’s Dartships. Local militia were persisting in firing on it from all directions but none had managed to make a dent yet. It slowly swivelled round in mid-air, looking remarkably peaceful. The interior however was alive with sights and sounds. Tali and DI Howard had gradually taken charge of all data flows normally destined for BESC HQ operations centres. They could see and control everything: life signs, enforcer positioning, incoming back-up, available air-support, nearby traffic and media presences. The lot. They sat side by side, fingers a blur over a dozen different holographic interfaces, chins wagging furiously as they maintained hundreds of different comm links; soldiers on the ground through to support staff back at base.

However, Tali was patched through to the one person at BESC she did not want to talk to at that moment. “Supervisor Laurent this is Overseer Ngoni. This operation has spiralled far out of control. I want all data streams returned and the plug pulled as of right now.” Taliga gritted her teeth, a 3D map of the Tower in front of her, with a red ping indicating Jack’s pulse. “Overseer Ngoni, we have almost arrested one of the most wanted criminals in my department!” The response was instant: “You haven’t arrested shit! You’ve started a firefight in one of the most volatile Projects in Babylon! Return to base and let Op Cen deal with the evacuation. That’s an order!” Tali signed out of that link, but she could already see data streams being overridden and taken away from her. There was no way she could face her workmates after having failed to catch Jack after getting so involved.

“Take us back to base please.” DI Howard leaned towards the driver, Tali snapped her from her stupor with a snarl; turning off all comm-links she turned to the weedy Detective Inspector.“Cancel that order, we are not leaving yet.” “You heard Overseer Ngoni, we must return to base! You know what he’s like, we’ll lose our jobs! Howard made a move to get into the driver’s seat but a hand on his shoulder pushed him back. Looking gingerly behind him, it seemed he had forgotten the two heavies in the Dart. Tali nodded her appreciation to the men before addressing Howard. “Admittedly i didn’t plan for this, but i believe these enforcers are acting out of personal greed rather than loyalty for BESC. Now you have two choices, either you help me capture Jack Thegn, or i’ll show you the door.”

With a straight face, Tali pulled the manual release lever next to the Dart’s side door. There was a depressurizing hiss, and the noise level dramatically increased as the whole of Babylon tried to force its way in. A slowly revolving view of the neighbouring project towers, packed skylanes and local militia up on gantries all around. Bullets fizzed against the hull, clanging noisily as Howard whimpered in the iron grip of the BESC enforcers. “I’ll do it! I’ll do it!” The DI screamed eventually as the second enforcer got up to take his other shoulder. “Good!” Tali purred like a cat. The door closed and Tali patted him on the leg reassuringly. A voice emanated from the command console. “Hmmph, i thought i turned this thing off.” Tali grumbled, swivelling round just as a seemingly unfamiliar and robotic voice addressed her.

“Organic, you are in need of assistance. I will do so for equipment, information and future contracts.”

Squinting at the holographic display, Tali and Howard edged closer in their chairs. With a waggle of her hand, she indicated he trace the comm-link. Clearing her throat, she edged closer still. “Identify yourself.” All other sound in the Dart had ceased., they hadn’t turned the radio chatter back on. There was no reply, Taliga looked round at her subordinate, who had turned decidedly pale all of a sudden: obviously thinking of all the penalties he would accrue for assisting a rebellious supervisor. “Orwell class transport, identified as BB19SID. Twenty five years old.” Tali licked her lips. Even as she looked, the Dart’s command infrastructure was being suspended and a red order was blinking on every screen. ~RETURN TO DOCK~. If she returned home empty handed after this fiasco, she'd never see a role of responsibility again. Tali thought of her mother, pampered to death with endless galas and shopping trips.

“Bring me Jack Thegn, alive. And i will make you a very rich mercenary.”

BigBrother
Before the organic female had even spoken, he secured the harbinger to his lower back. He was grabbing magazines of ammo from the locker, and several explosive, his metal fingers quickly grabbed two. P.A.C s350's sliding them into holesters positioned on his mid section, along side the holester was room for four clips. He filled all eight, and quickly moved on to the Knuckle Buster, he had room for three clips then he was full up. He took two regular, and one explosive magazine. By the time he was checking weapons she responded. "Identify yourself!" Sid knew there was no need. She could trace, track and find out who or what he was. Then came the follow up statement "Bring me Jack Then alive, and I will make you a rich mercenary." He had no need for credits, as be had no need for food or drink. If he needed something he took it. But that was useless information to her. He spoke a single word before BigBrother broke comma "Roger"

"BigBrother, give the schematic of the building, and closest best evacuation routs from the 44th floor." big brother began adjusting their position moving towards the 39th floor. There was little commotion on this floor for the time being. Sid moved to the back of the craft, his metallic fingers gripping a dead corpse that was strewn across the deck. He dropped him near the exit and went back to the weapon locker grabbing a long nylon laid rappelling rope, and the THD R78, he hoisted the weapon to his shoulder while carrying the Rope with the Knuckle Duster. He set the two weapons down and clipped the man to the rope, and then the rope to big brother. He popped the ramp lever to lower, and soon a gust of air blew in. Then quickly gathered his gear.

"Crewman Sid, I am loading current data on jack thegn." in a fraction of a second Sid knew all he needed to know except his current position. "Monitor all incoming and out going ships, make sure if target acquires transportation, immediate evac." Sid lifted the 200lb man with ease, he waited till BigBrother stopped, then he projectiled the man through the air, his body smashing through the thick construction glass. Sid quickly zip lined down, and promptly landed on the mans broken body, there were several shreaks and screams. Checking the map, he had landed himself into a organics residents. It didn't matter, he squeezed off a round from The knuckle Buster, the explosive ordinance parted the door, it was left bent and mangled, he side stepped through and made his way towards a court yard. Having calculated all the possible scenarios it was either the court yard or a make shift extraction through the side of building those were the two most logical scenarios.

Project Tower
To his left, a man came at Sid brandishing a knife, mistaking him for an organic. His audio sensor picked up the sounds of his boots on the metal deck. He rotated quickly giving him a chest full of explosives. His organic matter painting the passage way and Sid. Hefting the missle launcher to his shoulder he blew out the end of the pway. Bits of debris bounced off of SIDS cloak. He dropped the weapon and moved on. His audio sensors adjusted again, the gentle moans of the wounded echoed through out the room. He passed through this section with little trouble occasionally some one would get brave enough to charge him and get shredded. Finnaly making it to the second check point, a large common area with some shops and what ever else organics needed. Finally he found some resistance.

Sid took cover behind a pillar, their suppressing fire was impressive, but also a foolish mistake, as soon as they stopped to reload, Sid popped around the corner, KB exploded bits and pieces off of their hidding places, 22shells left before reload. A man popped up and was blown away his matter covering his friends. He slowly made his way closer pumping a couple more shells into their hiding location. 18 shells left before reload. Then another popped up. 10 combatents left. They had learned their lesson. And soon began their retreat for better cover, Nine jumped up from the cover of the fountain and began to flee. Sid managed to take the legs out from one and ripp another's arm off they both fell. He smoked out the last one hiding, the man stood up holding his face, the shratenal had blinded him. For good measure he put another through him. 13 shells, 7 combatants left. Soon bullets were flying all around Sid, he dove into the now battered fountain, it had been dry for ages as the ground was full of garbage. He crawled forward bullets chipping bits of plaster and concrete from his hiding place. He waited for the lull in shooting and then exchanged fire. They had picked a good spot. It was a concrete pavilion providing great cover. 9 shells left. A loud pinging was picked up from his audio sensor, his shoulder plate had taken a round it hit nothing vital but left a small dent. He rotated positions and fired upon the elivated sniper. His platform gave way and he fell several feet. Momentarily out of the fight. 8 combatents now. Another hail of bullets exploded around him as he took cover. He quickly calculated the odds of a sprint for cover. Death 35% Wounded but battle operational 35% Wounded but not battle operational 20% unharmed 10%

Then another lull and he opens fire, pumping all eight of his explosive shells into their pavilion. He had damaged the wall they hid behind. As small holes bagn to appear each explosion knocking more concrete off. 0 Shells, reload. The robotic ducked, dropping the spent clip he loaded another, regular shells. He reached to his waist and pulled out a frag grenade, priming it with his thumb he exposed himself for a mere second fast balling it into their hiding hole. A moment went by and all the men scrambled out he mowed them down, the buck shot ripping into their tender flesh. Then the explosion smoked those who were left inside. The man who had fell was up and running. Out of range. 1 combatents, 40 shells, one frag grenade.

Odds of mob returning 87% Sid picked up the pace he began a slow trot staying semi crouched, making his way across he found another pway and ducked In to it. There would be one more place that they could truely overtake sid, a small residential area up ahead. He began a sprint his feet loudly banging against the metal floor. He passed the first couple houses no problem. A bullet managed to catch Sid across the thigh tearing open his armor, a flesh wound Danny would call it. He dropped to a crouch and turned at the same time. His programing caused him to blast the target before his optics could pick up the enemy. There lay a child of about 16. Blonde hair, freckles. "Danny?" Sid stood and moved to investigate. Blood was oozing from his belly he looked unconscious. Then the hysterical screams of a woman came, she ran into the street right towards him, he quickly dispatched her. Then an older organic came, and another. Soon they were pouring out from every corner with blunt objects or nothing at all. He fired into crowd knowing the dangers of a mob. He continued to providencocer fire while dragging the youth. When the moment came he threw him onto his shoulders. And began to fall back. His optical sensors almost couldn't handle the amount of people coming at him and Danny. He used his shotgun to ward them off. Shooting one here or there. The youth was still alive but barely. There were flaming bottles now being hurled at him. One such bottle exploded at his feet. He managed to protect The boy he thought was Danny, but it had slightly burnt his armor. Only slight damage. 200+ combatents, 7 shells, one wounded. Superficial damage sustained. All systems operational. Blam, blam. He fired into the crowd. Now his only hope was evac at the court yard. They had started showing up with guns. Firing wildly into the air. The court yard entrance was close but not close enough. Bullet caught his back plate. Armor damaged. A man appeared in front of him, his eyes were wild not that Sid could tell. The only thing he could tell apart was he showed no fear. He lunged at Sid and managed to plunge the knife into between armor plating. Hydraulic leak, left leg, left arm. Hydraulic lock in 1hr 37m 23s. The barrel of the gun pressed to his chest, he used the full auto capabilities, and the man dissapeared before his optical sensors.

Finally managing to get into the pway to the court yard he dropped his weapon and Danny, using both hands he grabbed hold of the heavy doors and began to slowly pull them together. The strain caused hyd to spray from his stab wound still Sid forced the doors shut, using the KB he barred the door, drawing one of his pistols. 1hr 05min 59s remain before hydraulic lock. He picked the male up and continued down the corridor. He could hear the banging on the door behind him. They'd be through soon. Before he left the tunnel he left a few Shinners along the ground, each one wrapped in the HE composite, tripling their potency. He managed to finally get too the courtyard.

"BigBrother,Sid"

"Go. Crewman Sid"

"Medevac, one wounded organic."

"Crewman Sid, no signs of organic life,,Do you still require medevac?"

Sid set the boy down, the glitch he had experienced resolved itself. It wasn't Danny. His skin too pale, eyes too far apart. His facial structure didn't match at all. Sid had never noticed that the organic child had been riddled with bullets as they attempted their escape. He scanned the now deceased body. "cancel the medevac. Keep posted on the were abouts of incoming mobs. And location of target. " down the pway he had come the sound of several large explosions echoed and following that smoke and dust erupted from the tunnel. He placed the boy inside a disposel shoote, and holstered the pistol drawing the harbinger. Taking refuge inside of a small air grate, he had the view of the landing spot and the only other two entrances while being totally concealed.

She couldn't move very fast with 'as much money as she could carry'. It had pained her to leave both bags behind and fill a rucksack with as much money as she could...carry. Where did she get said rucksack? She stole it, of course. She has getting close to the elevator that she had come here in, when she heard a voice and footsteps coming up from the stairwell. She recognized the voice. It was the bastard from before. The one she just ripped off, and was wearing clothes that she stole from!

SHIT!

She hid in a crevice in the wall, and looked out. There were more of them, ten or twelve of them at a glance, and they were all armed with very large guns, but they weren't going back to their flat. They were going in the other direction, towards the courtyard. She watched them until they were all out of view, and then heard gunfire. Lots of gunfire. She didn't know what was worse, that people were dying, or that it was people she wanted to die. How could she have wished such a thing on people.?Tears were forming in her eyes.

"Hey, you! What's going on?!"

Taleste turned round. There was a woman in her late fourties behind her with the body of a thirty year old male athlete. a lot of other people had come from their rooms, armed with the first thing they grabbed, it seemed. Taleste was still visibly upset. She cleared her throat and tried to look strong.

"Gunfire. There's gunfire!"

Another voice from the rapidly growing crowd yelled out. "Those bastards are attacking our floor now too?! Let's get them!" The rest of the crowd yelled out in agreement, and before she knew it, she was being pushed forward, swept into the gunfire that she could hear but not see. She was scared. She was terrified for her life. What had she gotten involved in by coming here on this day of all days? Her eyes were tightly shut. The gunfire was slowing now, the residents who had guns of their own now silences, and those remaining without a chance but fighting anyway. When she started feeling warm blood spray on her skin, she knew she was getting too close to the 'front line'. She dropped down to the ground, and hoped that the trampling didn't kill her. It really hurt, she gave it that...But it stopped after what seemed like hours to her, and she was aching all over, but alive. The money in her backpack had probably helped a lot. She got steadily to her feet, using the wall for support. The fighting had moved towards the courtyard. She looked back. She couldn't see the lift. What should she do?

The ringing in her ears subsided and the fighting had stopped. She looked ahead. The mob were trying to get through a braced door. Taleste, out of sight of them, walked discreetly through a side corridor. She needed to get her bearings. If she could get to the courtyard, she could cross it and use the stairwell behind that, as long as the authority didn't spot her. Even if they asked questions first, she's still a thief. No, she had to avoid them at all costs. She reached an entrance into the courtyard, and peered out, making sure the cost was clear, but at the same time highly visible to anyone who was watching the entrance.

Jack powered down the corridor, halogen lights flickering on and off sporadically. For his pursuers it was hard to make out anything in the disorientating half-light, but for Jack each flicker of the lamps seemed to last an eternity. Doors covered both walls, leading to rundown flats and storage rooms. From somewhere ahead the cold chills of an outside breeze rattled down the causeway. The sensation was like pins to Jack’s face but he carried on sprinting, less from choice and more because his mind told him that to stop was to die. Bits of paper and other debris flew past him, chickens and other livestock escaped from out of an intersecting hallways.

Legs like barge poles, Jack leapt over the assortment of animals before confronting their owner. She emerged from behind a door with spear raised. Jumping forward, Jack grabbed the pointy stick just below the business end, broke it into pieces with an elbow before pirouetting around and stabbing the helpless local in the neck with it. Crimson blood spurted from her body, covering Jack’s face and clothes in a sanguine stain. Pushing the gape eyed woman to the floor, Jack carried on sprinting without breaking a stride. Jack came to a t-junction, he hesitated but a stentorian eruption of voices behind him made the decision; anywhere but here. Taking the left, Jack saw a cracked plexi-glass window at the end of the corridor. Suddenly his father was talking to him in his ear:

“Jack listen to me. You are under a lot of stress and the implant you’re experiencing will make you want to jump from the Tower if you’re presented with the opportunity. Under no circumstances will you do that, do you understand me? We will not be able to catch you. Off the south side of the thirty-ninth floor you’ll find a landing gantry. Head to it and the team will meet you there." All of a sudden there was an enormous explosion from deep in the bowels of the Tower, a sonicboom rung through Jack’s soul. Immediately after the tower began violently shaking; pieces of plaster fell from the walls and the rubbish covering the floor gyrated wildly. “Oh, by the way. I’ve detonated a charge on the thirty first floor; the Project will be coming down in around twenty minutes. BESC have no choice but to evacuate now, good luck.”

WHAT? The only logical sector of Jack’s brain still operating screamed. A Project Tower usually housed between fifty and sixty thousand people, and his father had just condemned them all. A deep pounding had begun in the back of his head, or was it within the bowels of the building? Jack redoubled his effort, mouth open in a silent scream.

SID
The events that had unfolded elsewhere caused him to rethink his position. He used a powerful leg to kick down the grate he had installed to hide him. He lept down wards, his optics locked onto the girl. Hydraulic lock in 1 hour, its getting too close. He needed repairs. He moved across the terrain in a slight crouch his weapon drawn. The building rumbled. It was coming down soon. A child darted from one wall to the other disappearing with only a few numbers trailing down. It was odd, the child looked like danny. He had his weapon drawn upon the female who had entered. His audio sensors were picking up the choas down the cooridors. They were moving closer, moving down the passage way. "BigBrother, I require an immediate evac things have changed we'll watch from the sky." as he drew closer he straoghtend slightly stopping just short of her position. "Halt citizen, you are to cease and desist " he was moments away from dropping her. Before she could answer a bullet wized by he switched targets and fired into the now frenzied mob. They were wild trying to escape, and get out of the building. He continuously fired, aiming for their center mass.

---

Desert waste
Alphonse groaned and rolled over, there were rythmic thumps, echoing from the walls, soft gentle moans of a woman. He hated these mornings. He sighed and sat up moving to the door. Thomas was too experiencing such a thing. He rolled out seeing his wing man slowly they made their way to the galley. It was their shift, to take watch, they were looking for other pirates,bandits, and the law. Though they occasionally scanned emergency frequencies for easy pickings. And on such morning they heard one such frequency. It was a downed sand ship, called the combat wombat. Thomas chuckled at the name and began. To adjust their speed and altitude, the ship lightly banking to the side as they made their descent.

When the gun was pointed at Taleste, she froze, and put her hands up. She did not want to get shot, but she also did not want to get taken in. Getting arrested was a better alternative to getting shot, but escaping was the best option of all. The scary guy's attention was drawn. She could try to run past. No. She would definitely get shot. Why did she have to come here? A leather jacket isn't worth this. If she survives, she's enjoying every second of life she has, and never taking risks like this again.

What if the mob find the corridor she came down? She couldn't just stand here either. No, her only option of survival was to stand behind the scary guy and then let him take her in. Her biggest problem was trying to disuade him from shooting her. Sometimes the simplest answer is the best one.

She held her hands up in the air and jogged towards SID, shouting "Don't shoot! Don't shoot! I surrender! Arrest me if you have to but protect me, please!"

Sid

The citizens s began to push harder now running as the building awkwardly shifted, they came pouring g out of tunnel, his weapon was steadily firing into the crowd. For now they were staying away, but Sid knew it wouldn't last long and then with out notice, a burst of rapid fire came from the crowd, the bullets smashing into his protective armor, his weapon was broken apart by the brief hail. He drew a pistol, and began to fire again. His armor couldn't take much more. But soon his audio sensors picked up the sounds of BigBrothers engines, he fired until there was no more ammo in his weapon dropping it casually, he drew his last fire arm. It was getting close. Bullets still wizzed a bout him, there was no doubt that he had some exposed components after this mission. He turned his cranial briefly, but luck would have it, that he would take a round to the back of the head. It didn't penetrate but it scrambled his processor. Combat effective 37%, Facial recognition damaged, Optical sensors damaged, Processing at 50%, Motor functions damaged, Immediate maintainenance required.

Turning back to the crowd. The had world became slightly different at that point, where he used to see the individual meat bags now he could only distinguish a few of them. His optical sensors strained to adjust, he knew that forced shutdown could be imminent. But then a small ping echoed through out his remaining functions alerting him that BigBrother was ready to go. He had no reason but he pushed the girl into the back of the aircraft. Now the people lost little reguard for safety and were rushing. Be climbed in and big brother began his ascent though some managed to cling on for dear life he gave then a quick answer with a bullet. Before she could recover he moved to the repairs container, sitting down, small arms spread out from the box behind him quickly and effectively removing the very damaged armor. They went to work quickly patching his hydraulics, optical sensors, and what ever other mechanical component could be replaced would be replaced. He was dangerously low on spare parts.

"BigBrother, scan frequencies search key words, Jack, Escape, Pickup, Safe. Scan for frequencies being covered by a cloak."

Sid didn't say anything to the teen standing in front of him. He wore a worn cloak, that shifted slightly with the wind, that wasn't there. He could see the dirt and sweat caused by the intense desert heat. "SID, you're looking pretty rough friend. Gotta take cover next time. If you die who will protect me huh?" His voice was gentle though it was beginning to deepen it would crack every so often. "Understood, and will comply. Danny, next course of action?" The youth laughed. "You have it under control, Just get repaired, and well go after jack together." He never noticed the small numbers that would occasionally trail off of his body. And to a third party watching he would be speaking to nothing. "Understood." His words were croaked out, if robotics could do such a thing.

Taleste stayed still for at least a minute. She was alive. Oh god. Her heart was beating so much it hurt. After a while, she got to her feet, and looked around. She was in a ship, and it didn't look like the fuzz. She could hear unfamiliar voices. She approached them, and cleared her throat, but her breathing was so heavy she could barely speak. "Who...who are you? And...where am..."

Tears started to fall from her face. She didn't want them to, she couldn't control them. but she couldn't stop them. Before she could stop, she was sobbing into her had. "I thought I was gonna die," she whimpered, and put her hand onto the wall for support so she didn't fall to her knees.

Re swore. Then he did again. And again. And several times after. Jack was inhumanely fast, and he wasn't even going to try keeping up. Instead, he reached down and pulled his FL-9 off his leg and shot at the BESC officers chasing Jack. He couldn't see if they hit due to his vision being blurred by sweat. It suddenly occurred to him that humans' sweating function generally did more bad then good, but he needed to frakking concentrate here. He fired off some more shots, though there were wilder than his first two, now that he had started running after the officers. Hopefully they would need to stop too. If he ever did talk to Jack, he'd have to find out how he ran like that.

Jack had bought his apartment in upper Bakara district at a time when he had more money than sense. Having just pulled off a job in the Desert, siphoning off Helium-3 from landed and unguarded inbound harvesters, he felt the need to celebrate by drunkenly purchasing an upmarket property in one of the most downmarket areas. Bakara was renowned for its violence and criminal gambling syndicates. The apartment itself was nice: a wide open plan space on different levels with a panoramic view of Babylon, the Skytower loomed out in the distance. The place came with art decor furniture; Jack was not a fan of but hadn’t had time to change it yet.

Suddenly the man himself burst through the front door, grappling with the woman trying to suck his face right off his head. Embarrassing body sounds filled the room: moaning, kissing, shuffling shoes and clothing. Jack’s coat fell to the floor along with her dress. Clicking his fingers three times in manic succession, Jack managed to turn on some moody ambient sound and the faux fireplace over the cacophony of her animalistic growling. Lifting his companion up in a vice grip he crashed her down on a sofa with him on top. Pressure was beginning to grow in the back of Jack’s mind, behind the ears. Slowly, not quite being able to see what he was doing in the half-light, he moved his kissing down her body, exciting ejaculations of ecstasy from his companion. A loud grumbling sound was shaking the room now, a priceless painting fell from the wall and smashed. Jack’s head was vibrating now, a roar from some chained beast deep down in Babylon filled his ears.

And he was back in the Project tower, Jack’s bloodshot eyes darting open. He must have been running all that time because a completely new environment presented itself to him. A vast and deep circular chamber, empty in the middle with a walkway that wrapped its way around the outside like a python. Doors to a myriad of abodes opened onto the footpath which sloped downwards like the rifling on an enormous gun to an atrium at the bottom. Sticking out of the outside window was a set of landing gantries. Jack had no idea if that was his intended destination, but his drug addled brain didn’t care. It thought only of escape.

The walkway itself was a vision of hell. Citizens of the Project Tower had begun to realize the true gravity of their plight; the entire building was coming down. There was anarchy on the walkway, full to brim with people and packs of belongings. They were all pushing and shoving their way down the ramp like creatures possessed. Guns were firing, coshes were flying and there was a sound like a swarm of harpys echoing around the chamber over the rumbling thunder of the Tower. Not hesitating, Jack barged straight into the crowd, using his tall frame and bulky arms to part the sea of people all heading the same way as him. There was a buzzing sound and people all around Jack were seized by bolts of white lightning, their arms tucked in tight to the side of their bodies and they fell straight to the floor. BESC stunners, Jack concluded, redoubling his efforts; he hadn’t lost them yet.

SID

Big brother swayed softly as they made their way around the project tower. They drove in lazy circles so e times doubling back. Big brother looked for the keywords awaiting for jacks rescue to come in. Meanwhile the girl interrupted SIDs hallucination. He looked over his optical sensors though out of configuration took in her sight, waiting to run her image against BESC files. He had no idea how she had gotten in. Not remembering he pushed her in. He was vulnerable only for a few more moments and his chest piece was sealed.

Combat effectiveness 52% an improvement. SID stood to his full height as he monitored her not speaking right away but finally in a mechanical voice "Insiditor MK III" he paused a few more moments "Query, Hostage, Bounty, or nonessential?" He moved away from her the entrance ramp slowly lowered, SID removed the hand of god, and took a prone position on the ramp. His toes clamping down to the metal loops in the floor. He ran a small cord from the gun to the base of his skull. And began the link up to BESC satalites. If jack escaped he would know. He could see anything now, and his expert markmen ship would make sure of it.

"SID, why? SID, why? SID, you have one purpose. Why Do, why do, why, do you continue on? Now a young child sat on the edge of the ramp, he had freckles spattered across his face. "I have to protect Danny,Danny." The child laughed but it was that of an adult, his voice too. "SID you let me die, I'm dead. You have no purpose. We must kill jack. No purpose SID I'm dead jack. No purpose, No purpose." SID remained quiet. He no longer paid attention to the girl. Forgetting she was there. "Danny, you are here." He looked away now, his sensors were acting strange, they were reading things that should not be there. Damage, slow processing. He knew these were fine. He had just been repaired. "No SID, you're and I'm in the desert, I'm dead. Jack, SID, Killed BESC. BESC, pappa, where's pappa."

After a time the largest of the visiting craft, a homemade runt cobbled together from bits left over from travelling merchants, hove into view in front of the Captain. It sidled up slowly, connecting via a long walkway with the Dead Planet as a backdrop. Sickly green lights blinked along its hull as the connection was finalized. Ganka blew air through his nose, his teeth bared while he looked the vessel over. Content, he turned sharply and left the storage room. The corridors were buzzing with crewmen, all headed in the opposite direction to him. Ganka pushed his way through to the bridge, grabbed a ceremonial coat covered in medals and gold tassels before making his way in the general direction of the reception area.

The Hyperion sported four rooms kitted out to receive visitors and house guests if they intended to stay aboard for an extended period of time. Three of them had been repurposed as a garrison quarters for all the workers and soldiers the Hyperion employed, and subsequently degraded to rubbish filled cesspits. The one remaining proper reception area was relatively garbage free, save a few piles of filth in the corners and under furniture. Furniture had been upturned and some of the paintings hanging up had been defaced, but at least the graffiti had been lasered off and the chandelier was still intact. When Ganka pushed past two guards at the door he discovered a large group of Tindrel clustered in the middle of the reception room, looking at him expectantly. Mostly male, though there were a few women and even some children present. They were clad in rags and looked extremely thin and malnourished.

An Eliazoph stepped forward, she have been the leader but Ganka was unimpressed. She was shorter than most of her kind, and her horns (a sign of status) had been sheared off entirely. An old looking Gorrompek and a Chirrix with one arm made a half effort, standing in front of the crowd but behind the young Eliazoph. Ganka left two metres between them and they both bowed respectfully. “I am Captain Ganka Horza Outremer Sciarker. I welcome you on the behalf of my crew and i to the Hyperion.” Ganka grunted, taking a step forward which was matched by the Gorrompek and Chirrix behind their chosen representative. “I am Bon Mooy Tindgaard Venpele. We in turn welcome you all back to our homeworld.” The formal greeting over, Bon slouched back over, unwell enough to continue the regal posture most Eliazoph managed. “What is it that you seek?”

“We’re going down onto the Dead Planet. We’re...archaeologists.”

Bon looked around at the crew of the Hyperion. Despite Ganka’s request that they stay out of sight to avoid agitating the guests, a gaggle of the crew had leaked in through the various doors and were staring at their visitors. “I’m afraid we can’t allow it. The Dead Planet is very unstable and should be sacred for us, for all of us.” She said, motioning to Ganka himself. All three races of the Collective came from different systems, but they picked the Dead Planet to be their cultural hub. A middle ground where they could share ideas and pool resources. “Very noble of you. May i ask who appointed you as the Guardians of our planet?” the Captain asked, peering round at the huddled group of Tindel behind her. Bon’s lips tightened. She avoided the question. “What is it exactly that you wish to find on our Dead Planet? She asked, the bristle of metal in the hands of every crewman had caught her eye. “I’ve been led to believe that the Remnant wasn’t evacuated off the world, that it’s still here.”

This elicited a chorus of laughter from the assembled guests, Ganka growled angrily. “That is what every treasure hunter says, we turn them all back. The Remnant was destroyed in transit off the Dead Planet, all those hundreds of years ago.” Bon laughed condescendingly. “That’s untrue, i know where it’s hidden.” Ganka blustered. “Is that right? Would you care to explain how you have such intelligence?”

“Someone told me.”

“Who?”

“Voices from our past.”

“That’s nice, but i’m afraid you won’t proceed, not without clearance from the Council Collective on Outremer. “ Bon giggled, looking back at her flock, who were besides themselves with laughter. They thought him a fool. Ganka looked around and found his own crew hiding grins and guffaws; the young captain ground his fangs. Motioning with one hand in a signal well known to his ensign, Ganka grasped the machine gun that was thrust into his hands. “You can ask them yourself when you meet them, and may the gods rest your filthy souls.” Ganka laughed, opening fire on the congregation. When they all lay dead on the reception room floor, the only contribution being a pack of new bullet holes in the wall, he threw it back to his second in command. Everything was silent. “Destroy their ships and bombard the colonies, we set down in an hour.”