I forgot how much I hate being stuck in ships. Lipton stretched nervously in his seat. The spaceliner Invigorator shuddered slightly as the fuel lines disconnected and dropped away towards Masada. The thought that he would probably never see his home planet for a long time made him feel sick. In his twenty-five years he had never once been offworld, much less in an actual spaceliner. The feeling made him nauseous.
A flight attendant turned on the safety lights and Lipton hurriedly buckled on his belt. The belt rubbed painfully against the callus's on his hands. He winced and fought to remain calm. Calm down, Lipton. This is perfectly safe. Think of it as a prolonged trip on a commuter. His gaze wandered subconsciously across the cabin, scanning for potential enemies. It was a dumb thing to do. The chance of a hijacking was slim to nil considering the presence of three UNSC Flight Marshals onboard. Lipton exchanged a few words with them as he boarded. They were tough. He hated to think of what they could do in the narrow confines of a spaceliner.
The flight attendant paused at his row. Lipton looked up and smiled nervously at her. She smiled back coyly. Her eyes flashed a little as she looked him over. Then, with deliberate slowness, she reached across him and flicked off a light. Her arm brushed against his legs and lightly pulled aside his jacket. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of his sidearm tucked safely away in his chest holster.
Lipton shook his head reprovingly at her alarm and slipped out his passport. Carefully, so that no one could see, he opened it and showed her the ID marker identifying him as Spec Ops. Her alarmed expression dissolved at the sight and her coy smile reassumed control.
As she leaned back she winked at him and gave him a wide smile. A slip of paper fell out of her hand as she moved on to the next row. Lipton bent over and picked it up with the intention of calling her but paused as he read it. It had her phone number and the room of the hotel she was staying at next stop. He suppressed a grin and tossed the paper into a nearby wastebasket. Women were too loose these days.
The spaceliner jerked slightly as the engines turned on to full gear. Vertigo flooded Lipton as he clutched the arms of his seat. Fear crept into his belly as the g-force pushed him back into his seat. Even with the exorbitant gravitational dampeners a measure of pull dragged throughout the ship. Here we go.
Gradually the g-force drained away and the ship returned to its normal feel. A gentle hum indicated that the Invigorator had entered Slip-Space. The safety lights flipped off and Lipton undid the straps holding him to his seat. His hands fumbled with the buckle. Looking down, he saw his hands shaking slightly.
Lipton stood and stretched slowly. He headed off towards the latrine as quickly as his feet could carry him. On the way he passed two of the Marshals. The Marshals chuckled as he stumbled slightly when the ship changed course. The best Lipton could do was to muster a sheepish grin and hold onto the handrails to keep his balance.
There was a line for the latrine when he got there. Two men were ahead of him exchanging the latest news about the Galactic Cup, a racing league. Lipton listened in casually as he waited. His eyes constantly swept the area for weapons or hostiles. The Armed Forces were not everybody's favorite and there had been reports of several organized terrorist strikes against UNSC personnel in the past months. Nothing that unusual, but times were changing.
A dozen new inhabitable planets had been discovered and several companies were racing to plant their flags in first. The UNSC had the dreary job of trying to keep the peace. Eventually one of the sides got tired of the politics and launched several sabotage missions that resulted in enormous crack-downs by the UNSC troops. That earned them an infamous reputation.
Two men sidled up to Lipton in line. They glanced around nervously at the other passengers while constantly checking something in their jackets. Nervous, sunglasses, leather jackets, new Intel Ops or terrorists. His thoughts were confirmed when he caught a glimpse of a standard-issue MA5B cut down to an SMG size. Intel; Just great.
He finally got his turn and entered the latrine. Now that he had some privacy he could…
A handful of shots rang out in the ship. Instantly Lipton spun around and unholstered his sidearm. The shots had stopped but the proximity of the screams indicated that whatever had happened was not over. Two more shots rang out, much closer this time. He slid on the silencer and aimed at the center of the door as a precaution. His left hand snaked out and reached for the door latch when he guessed that it was safe to leave.
His hand had just reached the latch when the door swung inwards. A blur shot through and collided with him, knocking him backwards. Instincts kicked in and he rolled with the fall. When his back hit the wall he found footing and propelled himself forward. He landed on top with his silenced pistol pressed firmly in the attacker's throat.
It was the flight attendant. Her terrified face was reflected in the metal sink by Lipton's head as her eyes traveled between the silencer and his face. Her breathing was short and shallow as she tried to not move. He slowly and calmly pulled the gun away and pushed off of the ground. She stayed frozen on the floor until he holstered the weapon and held out a placating hand. After staring at the hand for a few seconds she timidly accepted the hand and pushed off the ground.
Lipton put an arm around her shoulder and sat her down on the lidded toilet seat. Once she was out of the way he walked back to the door and found it shut. The magnetic seal had closed the door behind her. With his ear pressed to the door he fought to hear what was going on.
Someone just outside the door was shouting in an unidentified language. From the confused noise around him Lipton guessed someone had been shot. His thoughts were confirmed when he heard Starck, one of the Marshals, call for a doctor. There was a scuffling noise and the terrorist spoke up again. His voice was nervous and loud. Lipton guessed he was high on something.
The flight attendant let out a nervous gasp behind him as he drew his pistol and cocked the hammer. He glanced back and gave her a reassuring smile. This was child's play compared to his usual runs. He just had never had to deal with the specifics of a spaceliner before. There was a first time for everything.
Thankfully the door swung both ways. Lipton planted a foot on the center of the door and booted the door outwards. He followed straight behind, gun raised and scanning for targets. The first man that came into view was using a hostage as a shield against two Air Marshals. A double tap of his 9mm dropped him like a rock. He swung around to his right and a second man came into view. This man was older than the first. He looked like a stereotype terrorist in his dark jacket and with an illegal SMG waving around in his hand, and with explosives belted around the waist. Lipton's first shot blew off the man's thumb before it could reach the detonator in his hand. The next two caught the man in the forehead and sprayed his brains across a view-shield. He tumbled over and landed in a heap by a horrified passenger.
One final terrorist was in view. The man deftly knocked aside Lipton's pistol and head butted Lipton in the face. The force of the blow snapped Lipton's neck back. Without thinking he reversed his grip on the pistol and brought it down hard on him. There was an audible cracking noise as the handle smashed into his jaw. He continued on undaunted however, and thrust a 6" blade into Lipton's gut.
A fiery sensation swept through his body as the man twisted and wiggled the blade looking for vital organs. The pistol came down again, this time breaking his nose and splashing blood in both of their eyes. The man recoiled away and wrenched his knife out of Lipton's gut. He planted a foot on Lipton's crotch and pushed of as hard as he could.
Lipton gasped and bit back a stream of curses. The man back-crabbed away and pulled out a second knife. Before Lipton could rise he dove past Lipton and grasped for the fallen detonator.
A single shot rang out in the cabin. The terrorist fell heavily on top of Lipton, brains pouring out of a giant hole in his forehead. A pair of strong arms lifted the man and tossed him aside. Blinking through the light Lipton made out the face of Starck.
Starck lifted him up in his arms as if he was a doll and motioned for the second Air Marshal. "I'll take this one up to the med center and come back for Thurston. Try to clean this mess out."
The Air Marshal saluted and waved back the curious and scared passengers. Lipton struggled to stay conscious as the pain threatened to overwhelm him.
"What happened?" he asked.
"They dressed up as Intel operatives. As soon as our backs were turned they lit up Thurston and grabbed a couple hostages as shields. We were about to light them up when hotshot number two revealed his C3. Then you came out of the latrine and hell broke loose. I must say, that was an impressive fight you put up. I haven't seen a man in my life that could move that fast. Where'd you learn to do that?"
Lipton grunted as a fresh set of pain stabbed through his gut. "Masada CT. I've been fighting ever sine I was thirteen when the Mullahjadi War broke out."
"Whoa." Starck's eyes widened in surprise. "Were you the really in the war? That war made headlines across the galaxy. I was in Basic when news reached Earth."
"Yeah. Some school friends and I escaped the Geno-blitz and spent three years living in the mountains fighting off the Nalhirad. We lived off deer and other wildlife for two years before the UNSC arrived. When they finally did, all but seven of us had died of starvation or from combat; several of us froze to death in those mountains."
Starck glanced down at the floor as they reached the lift. "Oh. You must have been the Rebel Cadre. I am sorry about your friends. I can personally assure you that nearly every Marine involved wished that they could have done more sooner. I was part of the spearhead force in the UNSC suppression force. What the Nalhirad did was… appalling."
"It was." Lipton looked around as they stepped in the lift. "I can walk, by the way. You don't need to carry me. It was just a gut wound."
"Just a gut wound?" Starck scoffed. "You're insides are fighting to escape." The lift door opened and he stepped out into the ship's med bay. A dozen doctors crowded around and placed Lipton onto a crash-cart. As they wheeled it away Starck ventured a final question.
"Hey, I didn't' catch your name. Did you know the Assassin?"
Lipton lifted his head slightly and smiled grimly back at Starck. "George Lipton. I was the Assassin."
Starck was too stunned to reply before Lipton disappeared into the ER room.