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Chapter 11

Freeport 12, Florida System:

"Well, at least we all made it out alive," said Trent.

"For the most part," said King, rubbing his back.

"You two did," said Director Lane solemnly, "but we lost a lot of good people today. And a lot of ships." He paused. "On a good note, the two Orrid fighters that slipped through the blockade were destroyed by Heaven's Gate." He turned back to address the LSF members in general. "I've ordered the Vermont to repair at Sarasota Shipyard, in order to make room for any other ships to dock in the Freeport 12 shipyard. I've also moved the Rio Grande to Sarasota." He paused again, looking around the room. "So far, we have made only one offensive, and that was disastrous. We need allies, and I have two in mind." He walked over to the viewscreen and turned it on. It showed an analysis of the strengths of various factions. "One ally we need that we don't have is the Gas Miners Guild. Agent King, after you get back from the mission I'm about to give you, you'll take Osiris to Zonell in the Alpha-39 system. I'll be joining you in an attempt to sway the GMG to our side."

"Understood, sir. What mission am I about to go on?"

"The other ally we need is the Hajarran Union."

"The who?" Trent asked in confusion.

"Besides humans," explained Lane, "the Hajarrans are the only space faring, sentient race in Sirius. They've existed far longer than we have, and their technology is far in advance of our own. We need their support, but it won't be easy to get it. Agent King, Mr. Trent, and Mr. Tobias, take the Essex to Bradford Station in Zeta-73. From there, you can meet with the Hajarran delegation. Good luck, men."


Bradford Station, Zeta-73 System:

"Why is it that I've never heard of the Hajarrans?" asked Trent.

"Bowex has kept a tight lid on their existence," replied King. "Hajarra is on the Numbaria Pass, which is probably the most desolate part of Sirius. The only people who are on the Pass are Bowex, the GMG, Bounty Hunters, and Orbital Spa, and the last two are only on the last part. So really, the GMG and Bowex are the only ones who know of them."

"Then why does the LSF know?"

King grinned. "We make it our business to know things."

An Agent turned to King. "Sir, the Hajarran delegation has arrived." King stood up and nodded.

"Good. Let's get this show on the road."

A few minutes later several Hajarrans entered the meeting room. Trent had no idea what to expect from a Hajarran in regards to appearance, but discovered that they were an insectoid, six-legged race whose tan skin seemed somewhat rubbery. Each leg had three toes, two in front separated by sixty degrees and one pointed directly behind the leg. Their two arms ended in hands with three fingers and an opposable thumb. They stood at about one meter in height and had a very angular head.

King strode forward and shook the hand of the head representative. "I'm Michael King, Liberty Security Force."

The Hajarran nodded. "I am Leevana Graatho of the Senate of Hajarra," the representative said in a refined but very unusual accent. It sounded almost mechanical in its inflection. "The Senate have reviewed the proposal sent by you, and have come to a conclusion. We are sorry, but we are unable to assist you. We are not interested in colony affairs. The last time we got involved with such matters, many of the people of Hajarra died. We are not prepared to do so again."

"However, some of the people of Hajarra have shown an interest in battles that belong to you," said one of Leevana's aides. "While they are not sanctioned by the government of Hajarra, they will assist you if you require. The ships that belong to them are traveling to here, and will be here soon."

"We believe that this answers the questions asked by you," said Leevana, "and we will now depart back to Hajarra. We wish you pleasant travels." With that, the three Hajarrans exited the bar. The LSF delegation followed suit as they headed towards the Essex.

"Is it just me," said Trent, "or do they speak really oddly?"

"No," said King, "they do. From what I understand, their language doesn't have possessive pronouns, so I doubt they know how to use them properly. You can't really expect a race that we encountered less than fifty years ago to have perfect English, can you?"

"I suppose not," replied Trent as they entered the Essex.

"Come, Trent," Tobias said from the doorway. "The bartender, a robot though he may be, makes an excellent Sidewinder Fang. I think that you should – Trent?" However, Trent was already walking into the bar.


Planet Zonell, Alpha-39 System:

Trent had, of course, heard of Zonell. One of the stranger oddities of Sirius, Zonell was the only known gas giant that was livable. Sky City, a massive, floating array of mining centers, habitat towers, and landing pads, flew about seventy-eight kilometers beneath the upper cloud layer. Owned by the Gas Mining Guild, many companies had some presence on Zonell, and Marrik Science, a Hispania-based science company, studied the planet in great detail. Hideo Ito, the head of the facility on Zonell, was currently in a meeting with King and Director Lane, leaving Trent and Tobias alone. While Trent was firmly camped in the bar, Tobias had gone out to take a look at the not-so-new Starblazer. Trent was drinking a Heaven's Gate, which, while not horrible, was nothing to write home about either.

"Mr. Trent?" came a voice behind him.

Trent whipped around, caught by surprise at the unfamiliar voice. A Hispanic man was standing behind him, unarmed. The man was staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face.

"We meet at last, Mr. Trent," he said calmly. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am José Márquez. Perhaps you have heard of me."

Trent rolled around the name in his head, then recalled what the leader of Nome Base had told him. "You're the leader of the Orrids," he said cautiously. His hand started reaching for his gun.

"I have several people that are training weapons on you as we speak, so I would suggest that you stop reaching for your weapon," he said in a voice like he was discussing the weather. "In answer to your observation, yes, I am the leader of the Orrids. I've dealt with Mrs. Bane. She will not reveal my identity to anyone else."

"What do you want?" asked Trent stiffly.

"I had some business here on Zonell I needed to attend to," replied Márquez, "but when I saw you here in the bar, I decided to give you a friendly warning. Stay away from Orrid business. Thus far, you've escaped death from us, but only because we weren't actively setting out to kill you. Continue to interfere with our business, and that will change." Without any warning, he punched Trent, cracking his jaw. Damn, the man can throw a punch. "That was for killing Juan and Julio Perez. I take the death of my men very seriously." With that, Márquez walked towards the exit, but just before he left he turned and said, "Don't think you can stop us, either. We have abilities far beyond your imagination. Good day, Mr. Trent."

Trent started massaging his jaw. That was random. Why do they want me to stay away? Are they afraid I'm close to finding something, or do they just think I'm that dangerous? He looked at the bartender, who hadn't batted an eye throughout the entire exchange. A few minutes later, Tobias walked in, beaming.

"Trent, you won't believe what I just –" Tobias started, but stopped when he saw Trent. "What happened to you?"

"I tripped," Trent replied, hoping to blow it off. "What did you find?"

"Never you mind, you need to see a doctor. Come, I know of just the person to see."

Nearly two hours later, Trent had had his jawbone mended, and pain-killers to help dull the ache he felt. Tobias clearly didn't believe Trent's 'tripping' excuse, but had given up trying to press the issue. The two returned to the bar to find King and Lane sitting at a table looking somewhat glum.

"Well, they won't help us," said Lane as Trent and Tobias joined them. "It turns out they like neutrality as much as Hispania. This whole adventure was a waste –"

"Director Lane, we have information."

Lane, startled by his com's activation, spoke into it. "Go ahead."

"Sir, we've located Agent Zane."


Battleship Osiris, Alpha-39 System:

"She's located near the black hole in this system," said the comm. officer when they entered the bridge. Orillion joined them as they walked to the comm. station. "The interference is probably what caused us not to locate her before. However, I don't think we can reach her."

"Why not?" asked Lane.

"Neither the Osiris nor any other Liberty ship was designed to withstand the incredible amounts of radiation found as close to the black hole as Juni is," explained Orillion.

"You're right," said Trent, "Liberty ships aren't designed to withstand heavy radiation, but Bretonian ships are."

"He's right. We could use the Essex," suggested King. "It would be able to get through that radiation."

"Call up the Essex," ordered Lane as he turned to the viewscreen.

Within minutes, Captain Holmes had appeared onscreen. "This is the Essex."

"Captain, how long until you can reach our position?" asked Lane.

"Fortunately, we've docked at Southampton Shipyard; all we need do is move through Edinburgh to reach you. I would say two hours."

"Do so. We have a situation that requires your presence."

"Understood. Essex out."


Battleship Essex, Alpha-39 System:

"If our experiences say anything," Tobias was saying to the assembled group of LSF pilots, "it's likely Agent Zane appeared close to an Orrid base. If so, she may have been captured or killed. At any rate, those poxy Liberty ships of yours won't get us through the radiation field, so we're going to have to use Bretonian fighters, in addition to the Essex. Now, flying a Bretonian fighter is a lot different from flying those Liberty ships you normally use, so listen up. The first thing to know about flying a Bretonian ship is –" It was about at this point that Trent completely lost interest in what Tobias was saying, and he headed for the bar. He ordered his favorite drink, sat down, and started flipping through the mission intel. Tobias was right about one thing: the bartender makes a very fine Sidewinder Fang. He was going through information about the black hole's radiation field and its effects on living tissue when he was interrupted.

"Mr. Trent?" Captain Holmes had materialized next to Trent.

"Yes?" Trent was startled by his failure to notice her.

"Please, follow me."

Trent followed the good captain, wondering what the hell was going on. They reached a hanger door, one that had been locked when Trent had last been aboard.

"How do you like that Crusader we gave you?" Holmes asked.

"I like it," replied Trent, who was no less confused. "Why?"

"What I'm about to tell you cannot leave us. For the past three years, Bretonia has been working on a new fighter, one on par with Liberty's Liberator and Hispania's Marqués. The prototype was loaded onto Essex a month ago." With that, she entered a command into the panel beside the door. It obediently opened up, revealing a hanger with the single ugliest ship Trent had laid eyes on. It looked rather much like a fish had mated with a bird. "The Bretonian Paladin Very Heavy Fighter." She turned to Trent. "We'd like you to have it, in the capacity of a test pilot."

"Me?" Trent asked incredulously. "I'm not even in the military. What about a military test –"

"Your record during the Nomad Incident speaks for itself," replied Holmes. "We'll transfer all of your equipment to the Paladin, and take care of anything else you may require."

"Well, when you put it that way," Trent said, "sure, why not."

"Good. We'll start transferring your equipment immediately."

As Holmes walked out of the hanger, Trent walked around his new ship. "Ugly little bastard, aren't you." Trent grinned. "I can tell we're going to get along just fine."


São Paulo Base, Alpha-39 System:

"We have an incoming vessel on approach," said one of the officers to Miguel Dominquez, the leader of the Orrid base São Paulo, "approximately twenty thousand kilometers away."

"What type of vessel is it?" asked Dominquez. He was quite interested in what was being thrown their way; no ship that he knew of could withstand the radiation, except…

"A Bretonian Battleship, sir," replied the officer. "I believe the Essex."

"They'll be able to reach us, then. Battle posts everyone."


Battleship Essex, Alpha-39 System:

"What are you smiling at?" asked Tobias as they walked to the docking bay.

"I can't say," replied Trent. Noticing the skeptical look on Tobias' face, he added, "I'm serious. It's classified."

"Humph." Tobias decided not to press the issue. "You're as stubborn as your father, Ed."

"All pilots, man your fighters. We are approaching the event horizon."

"Well," said Trent, "that's our cue."

"Let's try not to get killed out there," said Tobias. "I want to see you and that girl get married. Vanessa wasn't it?"

Trent sighed. "I haven't talked to her in three months," he said. "Probably should try to get a hold of her soon."

"Well, at any rate, you're far too young to die."

They reached the docking bay to find King kicking his Crusader, uttering some rather virulent profanities.

"What's wrong, King?" asked Trent.

"I can't get the damn thing to turn on," he grumbled.

Tobias and Trent just stared at him for the better part of a minute. Finally, Tobias shook his head and said, "You didn't listen to a word I said at the briefing, did you?"

"No," he mumbled, "I thought I knew enough being around Trent for as long as I have."

"I clearly said 'all of the ships will already be active for you.' That ship is already turned on, you pillock."

King just stared at Tobias for a few seconds before speaking. "Oh. Well, uh, I'm going to go ahead and, uh, launch, then," King said, then climbed into his ship.

Tobias just turned to Trent and let out a large belly laugh. "See you in space, friend," he said, as he climbed into his own Crusader.

Trent headed towards the restricted docking bay, entered the code Holmes had given him, and climbed into the Paladin. He checked the systems and found them to be running normally. The control panel was very similar to that of a Crusader. All of his weapons had been loaded onto the Paladin, and, satisfied with his new ship, he launched from the Essex.