Angels2200

Anatolja realized it was a mistake to turn her back to Sparks as soon as she had done it. Nonetheless she continued towards the CIC's doors and to Tibbs' corpse, to do what Tibbs had tried in vain. "Come here old girl". She grabbed the body under the armpits, careful not to look at her face or touch any exposed skin, especially the bloodstained hands.

"Now wait a second", Sparks said.

When Anatolja turned back to her, the Lieutenant had picked up a gun herself. There were more than enough lying around between all the corpses. Fuck! There we go.

"What makes you think I'm taking orders from you now, Mirunova?"

Anatolja hesitated for a moment, swallowing a rather aggressive reply. She had her rifle slung over her back, so that she could work with both hands while Sparks had a PPG pistol in her hand. It was impossible to read Sparks' face in the gloomy lighting. How far was she ready to go? How far gone was she already?

"Orders or not, you're going to come with me. Because..." Sparks wanted to interrupt, but Anatolja didn't let her. "No wait, hear me out! Because, you know as well as I do, you're kill-on-sight on this ship." Me probably too by now, I'd wager, she added mentally. "As soon as they find out you're still alive, the hunt will be on, and they gonna know the instant those doors open. What you possible don't know yet is: Your mutiny failed on the whole line. The ship is completely under OSI control. There's nowhere you can go." Anatolja made a deliberate pause. "Oh, did I mention I have an escape plan?"

Sparks didn't answer. She put her gun away and joined Anatolja at the door, to disarm the explosive charges that so far had prevented OSI troops from storming the CIC.


*****


"Did you hear that?"

"What?"

"There! It comes from inside!"

"I hear nothing."

"No, I swear! There's something going on in there!"

"You're imagining things. There's nothing in there but dead meat."

"Don't you think we should report this?"

"Go ahead and call command, if you insist on being ridiculed."

When the door suddenly opened, the two privates that had been left to guard the CIC thought they looked straight into the mouth of hell. Two figures emerged from the red gloom, the taller one with a face pale like a sheet and madness in her eyes, the small one covered in dirt and blood. PPGs flared up. An instant later Lt. Freeman and PO3 Mirunova were racing down the corridor towards the secondary hangar.

There was a palatable tension in the hanger.

"Babysit--...?! Look, we don't have to take her with us! She..." Ursula sounded defensive.

"Where did she even come from?" The dark haired OSI officer brushed aside any further reply with a puzzled expression looking up at the face in the vent.
A child. Here?

"I... I don't know. What's it matter, anyway? She's just a kid. Why the hell is she here, huh?" Hobbit pointed accusingly at Kate. "She's not one of us! Isn't that a whole lot more risky?!"

"One of...? You're the one they're saying turned coat!" Kate decided to get a word in edgewise. "I heard all about what Nova said you did."

The tech seemed to miss first, the fact that Veneberg was reaching for her sidearm, and then the pained look that crossed her face at the mention of Nova squadron. Chakato missed neither.

"Sometimes you work with the allies fate hands you." Her glare was clearly a warning to stand down, which the short pilot grudgingly complied with. "I thought that lesson would be obvious given..." Chakato gestured upwards towards the still occupied vent shaft.

"That still doesn't answer my..." Kate chimed in again, only to be interrupted by the nearest entrance from the corridor opening suddenly.

Both Hobbit and Chakato fully drew their weapons this time as two gun-toting figures ran into the hanger. The OSI Lt Cmdr and the bright blond newcomer relaxed a moment later, however.

"Ah, you made it after all," Chakato slid the pistol back into wherever she had seemingly willed it into existence from.

An out of breath Mirunova tensed again as she recognized the OSI officer's companion in the dirty flightsuit as Veneberg. The PO's own compatriot wore an expression of confusion.

"What's going on here? She's OSI." Karen Freeman paused, weapon half readied.

"No. Nor am I with Verulian's 'OSI' who are now in control of this vessel. We are, shall we say a... fourth... player on the board now -- Chara Clandestine Service."

The reminder of who she was dealing with was unsettling to Anatolja, but the revelation provoked instantaneous rage from Sparks.

"You, BITCH! All this time...?! You just SAT BY and LET THEM KILL US?! ...Inga... THEY SHOT HER IN FRONT OF ME! And you did't lift and goddamned finger to help fellow colonists! You must have fucking known about us in the CIC with your position, you...!"

"I had rather more pressing matters to attend to," Chakato's tone was dangerously calm. "Along with your people putting a gun to my head and telling me to 'march...'"

The Morrigan's combat warning siren interrupted. "ALL HANDS BRACE FOR IMPACT!" A heartbeat later, the ship jerked violently from a torpedo strike and a roaring boom rang and echoed throughout the Morrigan. Ursula was the only one to keep her balance with her pilot's reflexes, but Chakato seemed the only one unfazed.

"There's no time for this." A brief flick of her tongue across her lips was the only hint of agitation (or was it irritation?). "I am not the one who screwed you over, Freeman. Verulian is the one who crushed you all under her boot, virtually to the woman. She destroyed the Aruna with all hands, too."

"What?" Sparks went pale as Anatolja nodded solemnly in confirmation. "No..."

"Verulian is pursuing her own agenda and has thrown any rules of engagement into the flames. If you want any chance at revenge; if you want to help the colonies stick it to her, then shut up and help us all get out of here."

"...fate decides who will lead; courage who will follow...Alessandra...Inga..." Sparks spoke to herself in a whisper, oblivious if anyone overheard part of some inner debate. She looked up. "Fine. For now."

"No!" All heads whipped around to stare at Kate who had backed away and was now looking at them like they were contagious or something. "No. I... I'm not joining some rebels."

Ursula bristled. Chakato stepped towards the retreating tech, angry. "Were you not paying attention, private?"

"I... I just wanna get home. N....not pick sides..."

Mirunova didn't like the prospects, either. But staying is a more sure loss.
"Kate, 'home' isn't that way anymore. The Alliance isn't in control here..." She said it as non-threateningly and convincingly as she could, but her reasoning didn't seem to have any impact.

Kate seemed frantic now. "I don't care about the Alliance. Or Chara. Or this damn war. But... I'll never get home if I throw in with you!"
Better to hope the OSI cut us loose as not for, but not against them.

"You think you'll get out alive from Verulian? Tch. ...I don't have time for this." Chakato closed the gap between herself and Kate in two swift and silent steps. The tech had turned her back to try and drag the precious box of electronics along with her.

"DON'T!" Anatolja's protest was both unheeded and too late.

The pistol was back in Chakato's hand, which brought the butt down with surprising violence against the back of Kate's head. Her slight from crumpled soundlessly from the blow. Chakato quickly grabbed the limp Kate under a shoulder, preventing further injury from falling to the floor and being careful of her injured arm.

"WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!" Chakato's gaze was deadly serious as she began dragging Kate towards the shuttle. Mirunoa realized that the safety was off on the woman's gun.

"Keeping a promise -- and saving her from herself. She does not really want what she thinks she does. What about you?"

"...I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"Start the launch prep then. I will assist after I load all of these. Veneberg, preflights and startup -- now. Freeman, can you get the hanger doors open for our departure?"

"I think so."

"Make it happen. I doubt things will be peaceful for much longer."

The shuttle was well set up for a quick departure, Anatolja discovered. Power and supply feeds were already connected and there was a headset+mic hanging near the fore gear that was jacked into the craft's internal comm system. She put that on while hurriedly working her way aft, opening valves to transfer a full supply of oxygen, water, and reaction mass into the shuttle's tanks. Approaching the craft's rear, Mirunoa slid one hand against the bottom of the hull as the vertical clearance dropped. The hull was smooth, cool, and clean. It felt trustworthy, somehow. New, even.

One fuel core seemed to be already loaded; made sense to have one locked and ready to go even if it would slowly degrade. An automated delivery system in the deck seemed waiting to deliver another two.

*Starting reactor. Core reports 85% capacity.* Hobbit's voice sounded both close and distant through the headphones. A vibration and almost subconscious hum emanated from the hull above Mirunoa's head a moment later as energy poured into the fusion reactor to being the reaction process.

"Roger, I'm loading another two fresh ones." The system was self-contained and responded more quickly than any the Morrigan had on the regular flightdeck. Two cores rushed out from some storage point below the deck and slammed into the carriers with urgent, metallic, clanks. The carriers wasted no time in raising both, already frosting, over cylinders of pure MSMH towards the loading ports in the shuttle's belly. Leaving the equipment to do its job, Anatolja moved forward to complete the preflight inspections.

*Internal power enabled.*

"External power disabled." She unlocked the third and final power conduit, which separated with a loud snap and azure spark.

*Astrogation systems to enable. Downloading data.*

The valve on the water feed shut off with a loud click and automatically disconnected from the craft, hitting the deck with a clunk. The oxygen line followed suit momentarily.

*Life support to enable... Shields to primed... Targeting systems to enable.*

"All consumables loaded. Preflight walk looks clean. Deck is clear. Gear is still locked -- Sparks is going to have to find an override to release that."

*Copy. Pilot interface to enable. ...I'm showing a fault in the feed to the right canard attitude thruster.*

"Shit. On it." Mirunoa disconnected the headset and tossed it aside.
Nothing ever goes perfectly... Probably a bubble in the line from sitting unused so long. Purge should be somewhere forward of the right engine chine. But how to get up there?

As luck would have it, Chakato was pushing one of the crates up the short access ramp.

"Hold up!"

The crate at the top of the ramp was just barely tall enough for her to scramble awkwardly onto the engine chine from.

"Umpf. Perfect. Thanks."

Moving forward, careful not to fall, she heard what must have been the gear locks disengaging. Then, her hair seemed to stand on end momentarily as the hanger's air sheild crackled and energized.
Sparks is making good progress. Almost there. Shame if I let things down now...

Fortunately, the access panels were well-labeled and the one she hoped to find was indeed in roughly the expected place. It was a momentary struggle to open the blasted thing and find the right screw bit to open the purge. The hiss of air proved her guess was on the money. An instant later, a thick, yellowish liquid that smelled like ether squirted out.
Thankfully, this type of reaction mass is two-part and needs the other compound to be dangerous.

Mirunoa was just fitting the panel back into place when an explosion ripped the far hanger entrance open. The surprise held her motionless momentarily until her brain registered that armed and armored figures were streaming through the doorway.

"COMPANY!"

"Inside! Veneberg, we have to leave! Now. Get us OUT of here!"

Plasma bolts whipped frighteningly close by as Anatolja half fell, half threw herself from the top of the shuttle. She hit the hanger deck painfully and, by some grace, ended up behind some limited cover provided by a still not loaded mystery crate. An ungainly sprint saw her safely up the ramp and into the shuttle's interior.

Inside, a grim faced Chakato had her pistol drawn and tossed Anatolja's old automatic rifle to the gasping tech.

"The hanger door still is not open. Keep them at bay while I see if I can do anything from the cockpit."

"You want me to what by myself?!" Mirunoa yelled in disbelief even as she slammed a clip into the rifle and disabled the safety.

With a skill born more of desperation than talent, Crone danced her fighter frantically around Seer as the pilot tried to get her engines back online. For her own part, Cat had flooded the local space with a jamming tone, making it impossible for their enemies to coordinate. Of course, this meant that the Novas couldn't communicate either, but Crone had decided it hurt their foes more than themselves at the moment. Crone had exhausted her missiles and there were still three active X-Sirens on the attack. In seeing them in action, Crone realized that the pilots must be new to flying the X-modified Sirens, as they were occasionally overcompensating in their turns. Crone tried to squeeze as much advantage as possible out of this, trying for the first time to copy some of Ducky's choice maneuvers. At one particularly hard bank, she heard the fuselage of her fighter groan under the strain, and a part of her mind wondered if this Siren, so quickly pressed into emergency service, would hold together much longer. Fortunately though, her turn caused her tail to once again pull too hard in order to follow her lead, throwing the enemy off of her firing axis. Cat was there to capatalize on it, her Medusa arcing backward and down to catch the disoriented X-Siren with her PPC fire. The fighter's engines were torn apart and the enemy spun away, no longer of any significant threat.

Suddenly, the two remaining enemy Sirens broke off and headed back for their corvette at full speed. Crone checked her tactical display and saw the reason for the withdrawal. The Canus was now making its getaway, the Persephone coming in hot on its tail as the Morrigan maintained its bee-line towards the Final Station. The corvette and its escort were now fully engaged with Omega and the other half of Nova Squadron. Free from any more immediate threat, Cat cut the jammer.

"Looks like the Canus is retreating back to the Final Station. Orders?"

"You and I will head back and rejoin the other Novas," Crone replied. "Seer, status."

"Engines back up but I don't know for how long. I should be able to form up though."

"Negative," Crone insisted. "You may not be able to land for repairs but that doesn't mean I'm letting you go into combat without being able to maneuver. When we pass the Morrigan I want you to hang back and stay within the cruiser's turret range. Report back as things develop there."

"Yes, sir," Seer replied, reluctant but resigned.

The next few minutes saw Crone's element turn to chase their enemies back toward the fleeing Canus. As the ships swept by the Morrigan, Crone saw the Persephone was also passing her sister ship. Compared to the pristine hull of the new ally, the Morrigan looked pretty hard hit from the Canus' barrage. Her armor had been pierced several times along her port side, and jets of flame marked the hull breaches where the last portions of atmosphere were burning off from the damaged sections. With a quiet and sincere "Good Luck", Seer broke off to come alongside the Morrigan. Crone looked out her cockpit window and caught an amazing sight. From her vantage point the orange fireball of Epsilon Eridani shown between the two missile cruisers as they passed each other, bathing the two captial ships in a moody, warm light that reminded Crone of the sunsets she enjoyed a lifetime ago. After a brief moment, the scene had vanished and Crone regained her composure.

"Crone to Claymore," she called into the comm, "Seer is damaged and hanging back. Cat and I will be joining you shortly."

"Glad to haff ye, lass," came a familiar and welcomed accent, "things arrre getting hot herrre."

Crone and Cat hit their afterburners and shot away. As they neared their destination, Crone noticed that the Final Station was now discernible in the distance, a large gray network of habitation modules and docking rigs connected by long cylindrical corridors that were bristling with defensive turrets. Beyond the station lie the small, dead planet that hosted the Final, its surface old and cratered. Crone could also just make out the flashing clusters of lights that marked where the rebels were still trying to knock down the Morrigan's incoming ordinance. Crone was about to turn her attention back to the approaching dogfight when Seer's voice sounded in her earphones.

"Seer to Crone, there's new activity going on near the station itself. It looks like weapons fire."

Crone squinted as she looked out. Sure enough, plasma bolts were tearing into what looked like the Final's command center. They were being fired by a docked troop transport, although of what design Crone was uncertain.

How many mutinies are going to occur today?! Crone thought, wondering to herself how often this happened across the Galaxy in this accursed civil war.

"Keep monitoring, Seer," Crone called back. "Let us know if any new contacts try to help out the remaining Canus."

"Will do," Seer answered.

Crone checked her tactical display. Just under a minute until she and Cat were in range.


*****************************************


Claudia made sure she could move all of her extremities before she tried to stand up. A large piece of what was once the cell door had fallen across her back, and as she rose she felt was must be an epic bruise in that area of her person. Whatever had hit the Morrigan, she was sure, it had been big and close by. Looking around, she let out a weary sigh at the sight of the prison guard, her body mangled between a collapsed wall and an exposed bulkhead. That guard had always been very kind to the chef, and even now Claudia still couldn't even remember her name. She whispered a brief prayer and then looked into what had been a cell a few seconds ago. The man was splayed out across the floor. The force of the blast and torn his shackles from the wall, but they were still secure between his wrists. Kneeling down next to him, she felt a strong pulse and shook him. After a few moments he stirred and awoke, clearly dazed and confused. Dismissing his slurred questions curtly, the chef helped him to his feet and decided to take him to the only place she knew she might keep him hidden and safe... her kitchen.

Mirunova could not believe what she was actually doing.

She stood her ground, hidden behind the crate box, against no less than three trained marines, keeping them from storming the hangar bay. It just didn't add up.

BLAM! a blast came, high and left, ruining some part of the hangar wall, but not even remotely endangering the shuttle or the ramp Mirunova was standing on. The hangar inner door slowly started to shut, with a buzz and a humm of powerful engines both sides of heavy blast doors moved towards each other. The OSI marines quickly retreated behind and sent few unaimed balsts in the general direction of the shuttle.

They're as sick of it all as we are realisation came suddenly they don't mind if we get out or not, they no longer wish to risk their skins for this mess

she quickly dragged the crate with her to the inside of the shuttle, and then took one last peek to the outside. oh no, tell me it's not real

Kid was just lowering herself from the ceiling, big bag of who knows what dangling with her, and jumped down almost like monkey, straight onto the already raising shuttle ramp, smiling.

"I'm going with you - ok?"

The inner door slammed shut and the airlock alert signal turned on. With a loud curse, Mirunova pulled the child inside.

"Sparks - what about that airlock?"

she heard more curses and a loud metallic tone, as if something was hit with a hammer, then Spark's voice, full of surprise "Wow, it works! We're good, airlock poening in 30 seconds!"

Panting heaviliy, she joined them on the ramp and thrown herself over it and into the shuttle.


Mirunova sealed the ramp tight with a button. She pressed the intercom button and called the bridge.

"Chakato - we're good to go!"

"Confirm, airlock opening."

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

On the bridge, young lieitenant was pale, when she approach Verulian with the report and a headspeaker.

"What now?!" Commander snapped angrily

"We.... we were unable to stop the shuttle from leaving Morrigan. The marines found them too late. They already launched and some mutineers are onboard..."

"Then blast them to hell with guns - do I need to tell You everything?!"

Lieutenant went purely white, "It's Commander Chakato Sir, she's onboard that shuttle."

Verulian took the headset and put it on,flames shooting from her eyes.

"Verulian speaking, you have ten seconds to give me reason not to take you down here and now, bitch."

Chakato spoke soflty and dangerously calmly:

"I took half of what you need. The other half I planted a remote controlled bomb inside. After I'm through the gate I won't be able to detonate it, but before... I configured Morrigan's communications system myself - you do the math. You move against me you lose everything. You help me through the gate - you still keep half and you still can hope to catch me later and recover the rest."

"I will kill you Chakato. You will die for this."

"Maybe later, thank you. And be aware that I am not telling your crew what this all is really about, as long as I can hope for your cooperation."


...

...


"Go to the gate. I'm giving you escort. Run fast, cause you can't hide"

Inside the shuttle, Raissa Chakato turned the comms off and exhaled loudly. Her hand was trembling. she sighed:

"I'm too young for this"

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

"Verulian to Crone, report"

"This is Crone, Commander, Cat and I are moving to join the rest of the Novas."

"Good. I knew that deep inside you were still a soldier. I have a new assignment for the Novas now. You will relay the following to Nova Leader."

"Awaiting orders, sir."

"You will assume escort formation on the shuttle that just departed from the Morrigan. You will escort it through the jumpgate."

"Acknowledged."

"Be on your guard, Crone. They are mutineers. They planted a bomb on-board Morrigan and they're now threatening the entire ship. The traitor Veneberg is piloting the shuttle and I'm giving you the chance to... settle things between the two of you."

"...Understood."

"After the gate, they will no longer pose threat to the Morrigan and you are to shoot them down. We will join you shortly, so there will be backup if you encounter enemy forces."

Crone's gaze was steely as she switched her comm channel.

"Crone to Claymore."

"Claymorrre here, lass. What's your ETA?"

"Verulian's just given us new marching orders. There's a shuttle heading for the in-system jumpgate. They're threatening to detonate a bomb they claim to have planted on the Morrigan unless they safely make it through the gate."

"Dammit!" Nova Leader replied, "Herrre we are scraping together an external defense and the mutineerrrs manage to bugger it up again!"

"We're to escort the shuttle to the gate, then jump and engage them on the far side."

"Alright," Claymore said, "I'll gather up the rest of the girls and meet ya there. Arrre yeh sure yer still fit to fight, lass? I just gave you a scan and yer ship looks pretty banged up."

"I have to go," Crone said firmly. "Verulian says Hobbit's on board."

"... Very well, lass," Claymore said solemnly. Crone then radioed Catnip.

"Have you been monitoring?"

"Yes," Cat answered, her tone worried. "It could easily be an ambush on the far side. I don't like this situation at all."

"Maybe this is just Verulian's plan to get rid of us for good," Crone offered grimly. "But if there's a chance... I need to know... about her," Crone said, struggling to find the words to matched her conflicting emotions.

"I can't say I understand," Cat said wearily, "But it sounds like we're going anyway."

After another twenty minutes, the two elements of Dark Nova Squadron rendezvoused and set course to catch up with the shuttle. Soon the fighters surrounded the craft in a cautious escort, understandably wary of their charge's intentions.

"This is Darrrk Nova to shuttle craft," Claymore radioed. "We are here to escort you safely through the gate. I hope you have the proper jump codes, or the gate defenses are going to blast us out of the sky."

"Don't concern yourself with the gate security," came Chakato's voice in reply. "Everything is under control."

"The hell it is," Claymore retorted. "Chakato? What are you doing threatening the Morrigan and trying to run away?"

"The situation is far to muddled now to explain over the comm," Chakato said curtly. "Just be a good escort and follow my lead."

Within moments the group neared the triad of floating generators that marked the jumpgate. The gun emplacements that loomed nearby remained still, but Crone eyed them regularly, ready to engage them if they should activate.

"Transmitting key sequence, now, Nova," Chakato called. "Stay in tight formation and you may survive the jump." With those words the gate sprung into life, the three brilliant beams from the jump generators darting outward and converging, pulling space open to reveal the glowing ether of hyperspace. The kaleidoscope enclosed about her as Crone and the other ships entered the gate. At once Crone felt the familiar twisting in her gut as space-time warped around her. Her ship groaned under the stress as it contracted down into the gravline. For the next few seconds, Crone had no hope of piloting her fighter manually, for every direction looked like the others, with no useful points of reference in the vastness of hyperspace. It was up to her auto-pilot to use the shuttle as an anchor point, whose on-board jump computer was leading them to an unknown destination. Not for the first time, Crone wondered if she would survive the jump only to emerge in the face of a huge rebel fleet. Yet, as normal space suddenly appeared before them, and the ships existed back into the black vacuum, there were no others ships to be seen in the immediate vicinity. Everyone appeared to have made it through, and a quick status check made by Claymore revealed no obvious damage from the jump. Crone noted that small blessing, but then thought about the rest of their assignment. Contacting her squad leader, Crone asked her the obvious question.

"Do we lock our weapons onto the shuttle now?"

CHAPTER III: „A Gate Too Far”

- „Now before you do anything irreversible I want you to know what may be crucial to everything you value in your lives pilots.”, Chakato spoke nervously, though few might find it surprising in a current situation.

- „I am a high rank Charan agent and your most obvious priority is to capture me alive for interrogation. Our shuttle is unarmed, and whatever you orders are, which is no great mystery what they could be, destroying it would be a violation of numerous Alliance laws and law of war. Apart from few Alliance personell that took no part in the mutiny, like Ross or Mirunova, there is a child onboard, who is Alliance citizen, and by no means a rebel.”

There was silence. Then there was McTaggart’s voice „Hoe do we knoe you don’ lie to us?”

Chakato sounded more confident with each second the shuttle was not being torn to pieces by plasma cannons.

„I can bring her on the radio for you if you want. There are two ways out of this lieutenant Mc Taggart – we can fight or we can talk. Your resident OSI will undoubtully tell you I personally designed security communication protocols for Morrigan and her fighters. The very fighters you are in as we speak. You can choose to find out what I can do with them, or you can choose to find out what I want to tell you and show you. All I ask is an hour’s flight with me and a little of your time to hear me out.”

Cas reported, hushed voice, despice of the fact that shuttle should not be able to hear her on squad frequency „she’a right about the damn protocols Claymore – she speaks true”

„she’s a liar and she messes with our heads girls” – it was Crone, and her voice seemed so tired and burned out, that it almost seemed like she was willing to do anything to finish this mess up. „Why don’ we just finish this mess up?”

„Additionally – Chakato was on again, almost as if she heard Crone on a restricted channel, „I have someone here who wants to talk to you, especially to Crone. Even if you mean to murder us here and now, you might at least give her the grace of hearing her out.”

…

„It’s…it’s Hobbit.” Ursula’s voice trembled „I need to tell all of you this and I need to tell You Aurrie this.” She panted heavily. „I was born Charan. I was born from Charan father and mother who loved him so dearly that she went above her prejudicies and saw in him and the likes of him a nation demanding freedom, where all Terrans were taught to see only rebels, traitors and… collies. I never betrayed Terra, as I never was Terran in the first place. I was and am my fathers daughter – loyal to his world and his calling. You may kill me for this, but please do not hate me for this Aurrie.”

She paused, but still nobody spoke.

„You may hate me for lying to you and spying on the things you are loyal to and hold dear. I always knew that. I was raised to be a rat agent and I always knew a day like this might come if I ever love someone, if I ever love my enemy. Because I do love you Aurora. I love you and in another time, another place, should those we fight for not hate one another so vigorously… But I will not disgrace this love by asking you to drop your loyalties, my warrior princess. Just please remember me also by those days before I turned against you, by my own duty that I regard as high as you do yours. And please listen to this woman Chakato. For now I know you were also betrayed by someone way more powerful than I. And following her orders is not serving the Alliance.”

Another long pause of silence was interrupted by Chakato again.

„Now Novas, will you listen to me?”

„We’re listening Chakato, but we won’t be listening for long – make yourself short”

„Very well Yates, but I strongly suggest that you take your hands off the steers while you’re listening”

Chakato paused for a moment, seemingly looking for words, but when she spoke, she was brief and quick:

“Commander Verulian, along with few her acquaintancies, intends to to find and seize a pre-Plague missing colony ship which’s signal has been picked up some time ago from the certain part of The Border. To achieve that goal she hand-picked some crew from the list that we OSI have of those who are secession-sympathetic, she incited a rebellion, only to bloodbath it and provide with a credible story behind Morrigan’s disappearance from Terran Navy. She massacred several Charan and Eridanian ships, killed her own Captain, condemned her own people to die a painful death and is now trying to destroy a station full of civilians. While her exact intentions are not known to me, I know that what she is after is hibernated male colonists, whom are to be vaccinated and sold to a highest bidder – and I don’t think she would have any problems with finding one. As to female colonists – judging by her actions so far, I guess you can imagine.”

Catnip was the first speak, in a very quiet voice: ”can you prove any if this?”

“Some part of it directly, most of it circumstancially. But you‘ve been on Morrigan, kiddo, you’ve seen what you’ve seen and you’ve heard what you’ve heard and you were taught to think ahead of what you see – you see any piece that doesn’t fit?”

…silence…then there was Chakato’s voice again “I have Mirunova and Ross looking at the same monitors at the same evidence – maybe you’d prefer to listen to one of them?”
After a while it was Mirunova, her voice hushed: “this is real Yates, this looks true”

“Noe waiiit a minate’ Rhiannon stepped in “Whaet numbae of ‘em calanists we’re tealkin?”

“Standard early colonization mammoth – 30 milion colonists – two – thirds of them male”