Hell's Hoplites - Book 1 - Thebes - 5 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4 - 
Sol System - Saturn Orbit Near Titan 
June 19th 2535 AD - 17:55 GMT
The Kawamura Industries passenger vessel Cherry Blossom was just coming out of hyperspace near Titan when her collision warning systems started blaring.
Captain Matsuo Tenkawa spluttered coffee over the front of his uniform and dumped the rest on his lap as he started slapping buttons and kicked his co-pilot awake.
“Wha…Whazzut,” Dave Ingram asked coming out of his nap.
“We’ve got an imminent collision Dave, help me out here,” Tenkawa grated out.
Instantly alert Ingram grabbed for his own controls and started scanning his displays. “Looks like an escort sized vessel,” Ingram muttered.
“Yeah but there shouldn’t be any thing that size out here,” Matsuo muttered back. “As far as I know there are no scheduled SSPF patrols through here until some time next week and this isn‘t exactly a major space route,” Matsuo finished.
“Then it can only be pirates,” Dave said.
Their questions were soon answered as a round from a rail gun was fired across the bow of their ship fifteen kilometers out.
“Kawamura Industries vessel Cherry Blossom heave to and prepare to be boarded,” A voice shouted over their comm.
Ingram looked over at the senior pilot. “Well?”
“We don’t have any choice this bird isn’t armed and they are way faster than we are that and the fact that our Carmine-Yushima drive hasn’t had sufficient time to recharge means we have no choice,” Matsuo told him.
“Surrender it is then I guess,” Ingram said and started shutting systems down.
A few minutes later they felt the ship vibrate as the larger vessel docked with them. Ingram and Tenkawa exited the cockpit walking down the passenger compartment towards the airlock.
Ingram paused by the seat where Toyatomi Kawamura’s teenage daughter was sleeping.
“Miss Kawamura wake up please,” Ingram said shaking her lightly.
The girl made a groaning noise as her eyes opened and she looked up at him vaguely. Ingram remembered that the CEO’s daughter was on pain medications due to an advanced stage of cancer it had been hoped that a hospital on the Jovian Union’s moon of Io would be able to hopefully do something.
“Miss Kawamura we are about to be boarded by pirates I need you to stay as calm and quiet as possible,” Dave told her quietly with a reassuring smile.
The girl just looked at him and finally nodded a strand of raven black hair sliding across her forehead.
Ingram nodded back at her and strode towards the airlock where Tenkawa was waiting.
“How’s the girl?” Matsuo asked.
“Still pretty out of it, whatever they have her on I doubt if she’s feeling much pain,” Dave told him quietly.
The senior pilot nodded his head sadly in agreement.
The airlock in front of the two men cycled open abruptly and they last thing they saw was the muzzle flashes of several Steyr ACR-II assault rifles.
A half dozen pirates in dark gray and black Skinsuits stepped over the bodies of the dead pilots as they stalked down the aisle between the passenger seats. Two of the pirates stayed at the air lock, another two entered the pilot’s cabin with the final two stopping at the seat of the half-conscious girl. One of the pirates clearly female opened a small case on her belt and pulled out an air hypo. “Sweet dreams little girl,” she said depressing the stud and the girls eyes slid shut as she went limp in her seat.
The woman and the other pirate quickly stripped her of her clothes and carefully slid her into a Skinsuit with an opaque helmet shield and then the second pirate slung the unconscious girl over his shoulder.
The half-dozen pirates and their prize exited the ship quickly and undocked. Backing off they fired into the smaller vessel watching as it crashed onto a mining asteroid its spine breaking as it impacted. 
Making sure that they had done their job right the Pirates jumped into hyperspace less than half an hour later.
Sol System - Earth - Tokyo, Japan
June 22nd 2535 AD - 06:15
Kawamura Industries Corporate Headquarters, CEO’s Penthouse
Toyatomi Kawamura was livid with rage when Edgar Rice entered his office.
“You want to tell me how the hell the Cherry Blossom was hi-jacked by pirates?” Kawamura screamed throwing the flimsy at Rice.
Rice ever unflappable caught the flimsy before it had impacted with his chest and scanned the few lines on it.
“Pirates,” he said pursing his lips.
“Yes pirates you idiot,” Toyatomi raged at the Englishman, his face was a splotchy red from his increased blood pressure. “You told me that route would be safe,” Kawamura accused with a pointed index finger.
“I told you it would be the safest,” Rice reminded the enraged man calmly.
“Well your safest passage has lost me my daughter,” Toyatomi accused.
“Mr. Kawamura I suggest you sit in your chair and calm yourself,” Rice said moving slowly towards the desk. “I may currently be employed by you,” Edgar said stopping at the front of the businessman’s desk. “But accidents happen, plus you don’t pay me enough to take abuse from you,” Rice told the other man with a cold smile.
Kawamura looked at the smile that didn’t reach the other man’s eyes and sat down in his desk chair taking a deep breath to try and calm down.
“That’s much better Mr. Kawamura,” Rice told the man and propped a hip on the edge of the large teak desk.
“What are we going to do?” Kawamura almost whined.
“We aren’t going to do anything,” Rice said polishing his fingernails on his jacket. “I’m going to hire some mercenaries to recover your daughter, and then we’ll get her to the Io Facility,” Rice calmly explained.
Kawamura nodded jerkily. “Alright I’ll leave the details in your hands then,” the older man reluctantly agreed seemingly in control of himself again.
Edgar Rice just nodded and moved back towards the door. “Oh and Mr. Kawamura I hope we never have another one of these discussions again,” the cold smile was still on the Englishman’s face as he walked out through the waiting room.
Sol System - Saturn Orbit Near Titan
Kawamura Industries Registered Vessel New Edo
June 24th 2535 AD - 21:15
The Kawamura Industries registered Vessel New Edo came out of hyperspace near Saturn and proceeded slowly through space trying to avoid the large asteroids that had been towed to Saturn orbit to be rendered down by the huge mining and smelting facilities that had been built there.
“Where was the last known beacon position of the Cherry Blossom?” Rice asked the captain of the 1,000 meter cargo/passenger vessel.
“Mr. Feture?” Captain Greaves answered by way of questioning his navigation officer.
“Near one of the larger asteroids in the outer rings of Saturn. It’s one of those that hasn’t been touched yet after it was towed here, let’s see,” the navigation officer muttered while bending over his control panel. “Ah, Sir, it’s the asteroid designated as KIA-27858,” the navigation officer explained.
“Rather appropriate designation if what I believe happened there did occur,” Rice muttered dryly.
“Sir?” the captain questioned with a puzzled look on his face.
“Never mind, how long will it take the New Edo to reach 27858?” Rice asked.
“Navigation?” the Captain questioned again.
“Approximately six hours, sir,” the navigator informed the captain and Rice.
“Alright alert me when we are two hours out then.” Rice ordered as he left the bridge heading for the elevator that would take him to the belly of the vessel where the cargo and shuttle bays were located.
Rice arrived in the shuttle bay a few minutes later and found himself in a remarkably clean bay the only occupants being a small double-ender and a larger assault shuttle its blunt nose pointed towards the exit hatch and stubby wings already festooned with rocket pods and 30mm gun packs. The crew of the shuttle lounged near the ramp leading to the cockpit playing cards and nodded to him as he passed them headed for the rear ramp leading into the troop bay.
Inside the troop bay were a dozen men in combat fatigues going over their combat harnesses, weapons, and their armored Skinsuits that would allow them to function in space and give them an extra but limited amount of protection.
“Rostov, we’ve got about six hours before we hit the ship’s last beacon location, I want you and your men suited up and ready to launch in five,” Rice ordered a huge bear of a man with a thick beard.
“Da, the boys and I will be ready by then, we’re going over our final weapons inspection now,” Rostov said suiting actions to words as he slid the solenoid bolt of the M30CL caseless assault rifle back into the receiver and snapped the rail topped bolt cover back into place. Slipping in a magazine of 7.62mm caseless rounds he chambered the first round making sure that the safety was engaged and then laid it down on the seat next to his.
Rice nodded starting to walk back down the ramp but said over his shoulder. “I’ll let you know when we are only two hours out,” continuing down the ramp he tucked his hands into his pants pockets and pulled out a lighter and then dipped into an inner coat pocket and lit a Del Toro cigarillo puffing on it for a few seconds to make sure it was properly lit as he headed back to his cabin.
Sol System - Rings Of Saturn - Asteroid KIA-27858
June 25th 2535 AD - 03:38
The Assault Shuttle spun on it’s axis as small puffs of gas rotated it to where the upper assault bay doors could open up above the site of the Cherry Blossom’s debris field.
“Sanko, Cleven, Dardanelles, take the east side of the field; Clemente, Vasquale, Pentel take the northwest; Simerton, Salvado, Henderson, southwest. The rest of you follow me to the center of the field,” Rostov ordered as he sucked in a breath of recycled air and flicked the safety of the M30CL to three-round burst. Using his chin he depressed the button for the compressed gas thrusters attached to his environmental pack and the other two mercenaries followed him as he landed at the wreckage field.
Sol System - Rings Of Saturn - Asteroid KIA-27858
June 25th 2535 AD - 03:38
Rostov ripped his helmet off and tossed it on the seat of the troop bay on the assault shuttle and wiped sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his Skinsuit. With a look of disgust he glanced at the small telltale screen imbedded into the sleeve of his suit; several of the lights that were supposed to be burning green were amber showing close to failure and the light signifying his suits heating and cooling system was burning a steady red the readout saying that it was stuck at 93 degrees.
The others in the troop bay were stripping out of their Skinsuits and changing into loose fitting shorts and t-shirts, Rostov started peeling out of his suit Sanko tossing him a towel to wipe the film of sweat from his body. Rostov was just finishing re-dressing as he felt the assault shuttle thunk down on the deck of the New Edo’s shuttle bay.
Rostov walked down the rear ramp as it thudded into place and found Rice waiting for him another Del Torro Cigarillo trailing smoke lazily towards the bays ceiling.
“Well, what did you find?” Rice asked.
Rostov nodded the others towards the door leading into the interior of the ship, and then turned towards Rice but didn’t say anything until the others had left the bay.
Rostov looked at Rice. “We found the crew they were both shot pretty full of holes; looks like caseless rifles, maybe 5.56mm; but I won’t know the type of rifle used until I examine the rounds that we pulled from the bodies,” Rostov punctuated that by pulling a small plastic cylinder from a pouch on his harness and held it up showing several slightly deformed slugs.
“Get them examined then, any sign of the CEO’s daughter?” Rice asked.
“None, even her luggage was gone; they crashed the ship into the asteroid using its auto-pilot system and some pretty graphic damage,” the Russian explained.
“I figured as much,” Rice said.
“These people are pros,” Rostov said. “I couldn’t find a single clue as to their identity,” he said.
“That’s fine,” Rice said flicking ash onto the deck of the shuttle bay. “I’ll bring in some outside talent to do the rest, but I want you on standby if I need some heavy hitters,” Rice ordered.
“Right, I’ll get the guys situated and then get the slugs examined once we get to the Saturn facility,” Rostov replied nodding his head.
“Good,” Rice said nodding and heading back through the bulkhead hatch into the interior of the ship.
Rostov stood for a few more moments contemplating the plastic cylinder in his hand and then followed Rice shortly afterwards.
Back in his cabin Rice got onto the local data nets and started looking for some inexpensive and very expendable mercenaries that fit the bill and would be willing to do what he wanted.
After several hours of searching he found several outfits that would fit his needs but one stood out since they had their own ship and wouldn’t need costs of transport.
The outfit’s name was the Hell’s Hoplites a rather ostentatious name for a mercenary group he thought to himself.
After few minutes of consideration he tapped a few commands into the computer console and sent a message zipping off to the E-Mail Listed.
Sol System - Earth, South America - Somewhere In The Brazilian Rain Forest
June 25th 2535 AD - 14:35
James Simarron lay completely still as he peered through the 25x Zeiss scope mounted on his Barrett M82A30 .50 BMG anti-material rifle. Through the scope he could see the group of British and Nepalese troops as they cut their way through the thick undergrowth.
James was entirely in the zone in that half-trance like state that he reached while preparing for a shot. Even though he was probably sweating away liters of water each hour he lay perfectly still covered from head to toe in his ghillie suit and with a ghillie blanket covering and breaking up the profile of the huge sniper rifle he was leaning into.
The only thing that really ruined things he thought was his spotter; a 24 year old computer technician that had been hired to provide satellite over watch for the faction of the Red Army the Brits and Nepos below were searching for. The main problem with his spotter was the incessant gum chewing he did and as James scanned through the scope he heard the snap and pop of the man’s gum. 
Easing back from the huge gun James pulled one of his FN Five-seveN FS pistols from its shoulder holster and shoved it into the man’s face. “I hear you chewing gum or popping another bubble I will fucking blow your head off,” James hissed at him and was answered by a slight nod of the other man’s head. 
James grimaced as the slight stench of urine reached him. Why the Red Army faction had decided to use an un-blooded computer geek as his spotter he would never know. Speaking of the Red Army he thought to himself grunting silently as he slid back behind the scope of the Barrett; it seemed they couldn’t get the point even after half a century as a capitalist country. Factions of the former Red Army kept popping up in even the weirdest places, like Brazil for some god awful reason. But hey they were paying him good money and he knew something that they didn’t, and they thought he didn’t know about the half squad of men they had left just behind the little knoll that he was laying on.
James swiveled the gun back and forth slowly so as not to attract any attention from the movement, he finally found what he was looking for and zeroed in on his target with the multi-spectrum scope. Pulling in a breath he let it out slowly and then squeezed the trigger just as the last of it left his lungs. “Good bye General,” he said out loud.
The Barrett jerked against his shoulder and he watched as the round trundled down range to over 1.5 clicks and slammed through the neatly pressed shirt of Red Army General Ho Manh Chin. The .50 [12.7mm] caliber round blew a hole the size of a dinner plate through the front of his chest and took most of his back and spine with it on the way out; Chin was thrown across his hiding place and slammed into a tree.
“What the fuck man, that was the wrong guy,” The computer nerd started to splutter.
Behind the two of them James heard brush crack and snap as the half squad of regulars pounded up the slope at the nerd’s shouts. 
Flipping onto his back James drew both of his FN Five-seveN FS’s from their holsters and flicked the selector switches to burst fire. The soldier’s pounded over the rise and right into gunfire as he gave each a three round burst to the stomach and chest dropping them without them ever having fired a shot.
James flipped back over and looked at the nerd. “Keep it quiet and don’t try anything cute or you’ll end up like them,” James said menacingly.
James once again put the smell of fresh urine out of his mind and snugged against the rifle before peering through the scope. With the magnifying power of the scope he watched as the Gurkha’s and their British commanding officer’s launched a fusillade of 40mm grenades into the undergrowth around the clearing that they were in.
The remnants of the Red Army faction lurched up out of the bushes firing as they came, several Nepos and Brits went down but the remainder laid down a withering field of return fire that caused the Chinese to duck back behind cover. Even out numbered five to one the Nepalese were taking a fearful toll. Of course it didn’t hurt much that James was taking out any rallying point as it formed; blowing off an NCOs’ arm here or flinging the broken body of an officer there. The return fire from the Chinese slackened and the Gurkha’s pulled out their Kukris and drove forward into the underbrush; soon screams could be heard as the heavy bent-bladed knives chopped through limbs and torsos. 
James continued to watch the action and occasionally pick off a straggler here and there until the Chinese finally threw down their weapons and surrendered.
A force of fifty Nepalese troops and British officers had managed to take out over three quarters of a company of the 250 Red Army Regulars.
After the Nepalese had rounded up what was left of the Chinese James herded the computer nerd down the hill at gunpoint with his Barrett slung over his shoulder and the hood of his Ghillie suit laying against his back. Walking up to a British officer he shoved the nerd into the hands of a couple of Gurkha non-comms.
“Good shooting old chap, I don’t think we could have done it without you,” Captain Erasmus Bandhill told James handing him a bottle of water.
“Nothing to it,” Simarron said taking the bottle and slowly drinking it in small sips to re-hydrate. “Got anything to eat?” He asked.
“Certainly,” the British Officer said. “Radin, bring Sgt. Major Simarron some energy bars and a couple of sandwiches,” he quickly ordered his batman.
James nodded his thanks and set the Barrett on a camp table that one of the Nepalese had set up as they started processing the prisoners. He then started climbing out of the Ghillie suit and stuffing it in a small ruck that he pulled from his pack.
Finally out of the Ghillie suit James sighed in relief and took the offered energy bars and sandwiches as well as a fresh bottle of water.
“Let’s sit over here while we let the NCOs do their job,” Bandhill said motioning to two stools that had also been set up.
“How bad was it,” Simarron asked.
“Oh, not that bad,” Bandhill said waving a hand. “We didn’t have any casualties and only a couple of the Nepalese have minor wounds, nothing we can’t take care of in the field,” the Brit assured him.
James nodded his head. “All the bodies accounted for?” He asked.
“We’ll know in just a few minutes,” Bandhill said accepting a cup of tea from his batman. “You were able to take out General Chin, yes?” Bandhill asked after sipping the Earl Gray.
“Yeah, he was the first one I got, you’ll find him,” James said motioning in the direction Chin had landed. “Or most of him over there and probably some up in the trees,” James said correcting himself.
Bandhill nodded his head and the two of them sat in silence as the Nepalese tended first to their wounded and then the Chinese. Bodies were soon lined up in rows and the able-bodied prisoners were made to dig a mass pit for the bodies of their former comrades.
James sat on the camp stool for several minutes thinking while he re-hydrated and filled his stomach. The Red Chinese Army Faction had contacted him to help them take out the Brit and Nepo force so that they could work unimpeded in the area, unfortunately for the Chinese James was just more than a hired gun and had at least a few scruples left. The Brits had paid him to help them lay a trap and he had also gotten to keep his fee from the Chinese. Although after this South America would be a little to hot to hang out in for the time being. Maybe I’ll go to the Middle East, there’s always something going on there,” he thought to himself; although after the Vector outbreak in 2021 most of the areas hotspots had suddenly gone cold. Even with that though there were still enough gun wielding whack jobs willing to die for their god.
“…..Say chap I believe your comm is going off,” Bandhill said as James came out of his reverie.
“What?” James said looking up at the Englishman.
“I said I believe your comm unit is going off,” Bandhill told him.
“Oh, sorry I guess this heat took more out of me than I thought,” he said sheepishly and pulled the handheld unit out of his pocket.
Bringing the comm up he saw that someone had left him a text message, “KI, opportunity knocks, monkey wrench; Edgar?” were the words scrolling across the screen and the man who had once been Jack Sikorsky and was now known as James Simarron let a wolfish grin break across his features.
“Good news then?” Bandhill asked.
“Some of the best I’ve had in a long time,” he told the Brit.
“Well that’s good to hear,” Bandhill looked at his watch. “Our extraction transports should be here in another fifteen minutes,” he told Jack.
“Great, can one of them drop me off at a commercial airport?” Jack asked.
“I don’t see that being a problem,” Bandhill told him.
Sol System - Earth - North America - Mansfield, Ohio
Laham Spaceport
June 27th 2535 AD - 16:05
Jack walked through the mezzanine at Mansfield Lahm Spaceport and thankfully didn’t receive any stares, with his ramrod straight spine, closely cropped goatee, and a baseball cap covering his closely cropped hair he was wearing a light jacket, Hawaiian shirt, cargo pants and combat boots he hoped that he appeared to be the musician he was trying to pass himself off as.
Pausing to take another look at the paper he had in his hand and that was supposed to show him directions on how to get to pad 115 he realized he was probably lost. Lahm spaceport had grown haphazardly as first a military spaceport and then a civilian one so the place was a maze of corridors, waiting rooms, and embarkation areas.
Jack set his duffel bag, Gibraltar Titanium briefcase and one of the Roland Keyboard cases he was carrying down as he shifted his shoulders to reset the other two keyboard cases, a full military pack, and the day pack he was carrying there into a better position.
Looking at the map that had been e-mailed to him Jack tried to decipher what could only kindly be referred to as chicken scratch. Rick Shepherd had unfortunately never been good with maps and when on AADT missions had several times gotten them lost even with advanced GPS and telemetry systems.
Jack stood for a few more seconds turning the piece of paper this way and that until he managed to line up some landmarks then picking his bags back off the floor he headed further into the Mezzanine.
Jack finally found the exit gantry for pad 115 and found himself staring at a battered Halcyon-class escort ship it’s hull a scabrous patchwork of rusted and singed armor plates in various shades of primer, however the name Hoplite was emblazoned across the bow super-imposed over a bronze colored helmet and spear.
Jack was halfway down the gantry onto the pad when a shape wearing mirror shades and a baseball cap with the words Top This Gun emblazoned across the front came loping out of the airlock.
“I see you still have those ridiculous sunglasses,” Jack said to Rick Shepherd when they met halfway across the pad.
“Man, don’t diss the glasses they’ve gotten me tons of lady’s numbers,” Rick said with feigned hurt.
“Yeah and how many of those numbers were real,” Jack said.
“Enough of them,” Rick said with a grin.
“Sure,” Jack replied grinning back.
“So how ya been Sgt. Major?” Rick asked clasping forearms with his former NCO.
“I’m not a Sgt. Major anymore Rick,” Jack said as Rick tried to take one of the keyboard cases from him.
Jack let him have it and then took it back away when the slighter man was almost overbalanced by the cased Barrett rifle and its ammo.
“You never did travel light did you,” Rick said relinquishing the case.
“Hey at least I’m not as bad as Samuel and carrying enough explosives to demolish half the planet,” Jack said with a chuckle and shifted his grip slightly.
“True, very true,” Rick said dryly.
Jack followed Rick into the ship and was surprised to find it fairly well maintained considering what a slob Rick was. The 100 meter vessel had battle steel plated corridors and wasn’t meant for more than light combat and patrol duties and generally only had a crew of twelve.
“This is the first officer’s cabin; it’s almost as big as the captain’s, I’d have given you that one but it’s right off the bridge,” Rick said motioning to the door as it slid open.
The room was about 3 meters on a side with a small head and shower behind a curtain at one end; along one side was an elevated bunk with a desk and computer console and a vertical foot locker next to it, along another wall was a row of counters with drawers and a horizontal rack for weapons was above that.
“I had that installed in most of the rooms considering who we’d have with us,” Rick said.
“Good idea,” Jack said nodding and setting his cases on the counter.
“Well we’re scheduled to leave in half an hour,” Rick told Jack as he squeezed past him and out the door. Shepherd turned back from the door as he started to exit. “Oh you can hang here or on the bridge if you want while we’re in transit to Venus,” Rick told him.
Jack just nodded and the door slid shut behind Rick.
Jack spread the cases out on the counter and flipped them open. The first case held his Barrett broken down and ten spare magazines, the smaller briefcase held his FN Five-seveN FS’s as well as spare ammo and magazines for them. Of the last two keyboard cases the first one held an M4A12 assault rifle with an M203A9 40mm grenade launcher, and a detachable 8-gauge shotgun, both currently sitting nestled in the foam underneath the broken down weapon, a 50-round bandolier of various shotgun shells, ten spare magazines and a dozen 40mm grenades as well as spare 5.56mm ammo sat in squared out foam underneath them. The final case held a pair of FN P175 5.7mm SMG/AR’s a SPAS-22 8-Gauge shotgun as well as several types of hand grenades and spare munitions.
Considering the various weapons Jack quickly assembled them locking the M203 into place on the bottom of the M4 and started racking the weapons above the counter. He slid the FN pistols into a dual shoulder rig as well as spare magazines and a couple different knives.
Thus armed once again Jack threaded his way to the bridge and found Rick going through a final pre-flight. The bridge was small with five actual stations and two jump seats on either side of the captain’s chair.
Rick was seated at one of the two navigation consoles at the front, the other navigation seat had a pile of magazines and schematic manuals, and he could even see a copy of Jane’s All The Galaxies Fighting Ships 2534 edition.
Jack moved the pile of books from the secondary navigation seat then sat down and started typing commands into the console slaving communications and weapons into it, for some reason the console wouldn‘t bring up the missile queue for the two bow mounted tubes.
Rick was bobbing his head to some heavy metal music that was leaking past his earbuds and then reached over and tapped a complex sequence of codes into Jack’s console allowing the magazine queue to pop up and Rick returned to his pre-flight.
Jack grunted when he saw that the magazines were only 50% full and only held conventional high explosive warheads.
The two of them sat in silence for the rest of the time till their launch window came up.
“Oh yeah almost forgot the SSPF had a new law passed when leaving or entering an atmosphere you have to be wearing an environmental or Skinsuit,” Rick said.
“Nice of you to remember that when we only have three minutes before the launch window,” Jack growled dashing from the bridge and back to his quarters where he tore open his duffel bag and pulling his old AADT Skinsuit out. Pulling on the spider-silk/graphite Skinsuit he winced as he hurriedly connected the plumbing and grabbed up the helmet for it and ran back to the bridge with about fifteen seconds to spare and found Rick in his and already sitting back at the primary navigation console.
Standing behind his chair Jack smoothed the last of the wrinkles out of the skin tight garment and closed the magnetic seal down the front, only millimeters the thick the suit contained a capillary system that ran throughout that connected to the very compact environmental unit that wasn’t much larger than a hardback book on the back of the suit. The capillary system routed oxygen and moisture through the suit as well as removing wastes to be recycled in the back unit.
Sitting back down in the seat Jack racked his helmet underneath the console just as the communications Icon started blinking.
“This SS-5467 Hoplite,” Jack said into the voice only circuit.
“SS-5467 Hoplite, your launch window is now open, proceed to launch rail Niner-Three and accelerate to ¾ power,” Lahm Space Control ordered.
“Aye, Lahm Control, proceeding to launch rail Niner-Three, and accelerating to ¾ power,” Jack said as Rick moved the escort from the pad and onto the indicated electro-magnetic launch rail.
The magnetic clamps on the beat up Halcyon-Class escort mated with those of the EM launch rail and a ten second count down started with Rick ramping the engine power up to ¾ by the time the timer hit zero. 
The small spacecraft zoomed up the launch rail and into space and detached itself automatically.
“SS-5467 Hoplite your launch was clean, safe sailing, Lahm Control out,” the space controller said.
“Thanks for the smooth ride, Lahm Control,” Jack said into the mike pickup.
Rick maneuvered the box shaped escort ship out of the launch lanes and took up an orbit around Earth while the Carmine-Yushima Drive charged. Somehow Rick had managed to finagle a 3rd Generation drive and have it installed in the decrepit looking vessel.
“How long will it be till we get to Venus?” Jack asked.
Rick punched some calculations into the console. “A little over two days give or take a few hours,” Rick answered.
“Alright I’ll be in my room getting some shut eye, I‘ll relieve you in eight hours or so,” Jack told his friend getting up from the console and pulling the Skinsuit helmet from its rack.
Rick just nodded slaving Jack’s console functions to his own.
Back in his room Jack slid out of the Skinsuit and pulled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt; he slid one of the FN pistols under his pillow and the other under the edge of the bunk’s mattress.
Despite what most people thought the majority of people do not lie on their backs when sleeping, for most people it’s just too uncomfortable and they lay either on their stomachs or sides curling their bodies to a more comfortable position. Jack was a turner and would wake up every couple of hours and either flipped onto his stomach or one of his sides.
Eight hours after his head hit the pillow Jack rolled out of the bunk and jumped in the small cramped shower and dressed in a fresh Hawaiian shirt and cargo pants, grabbing up his skin suit he headed for the bridge and placed it in one of the suit lockers there.
While he’d been in bed Rick had already translated to hyperspace twice and jumped back out at maximum range. At the moment the Carmine-Yushima drive was recharging.
“Everything going alright?” Jack asked.
“Yeah, no problems, she may look like a rust bucket, but the Hoplite is in tip top shape,” Rick said raising his arms above his head to stretch and a yawn leaked out.
“Yeah too bad your housekeeping skills aren’t also up to par,” Jack said wryly looking at the stack of magazines that were in his seat again.
“Hey gotta do something while we’re in hyper,” Rick said with a shrug and stood up grabbing the magazines and heading for his cabin off the bridge.
Jack just shook his head and sat back down at the console; slaving all the controls to it. Checking the status of the ship he saw that the Carmine-Yushima drive was about 40% charged and it would take another three hours to finish. Making sure that the radar and LIDAR showed no objects within in the general vicinity he leaned back slightly in the chair and pulled out a book reader and started slogging through a German to English literal translation of Carl Von Clausewitz On War.
Outside the ship as its four huge reaction engines and maneuvering thrusters fired occasionally to keep it on course and at a constant velocity the stars drifted by silently.
Sol System - Venus Orbit
SSPF Station Orbiting Venus
June 30th 2535 AD - 7:53 PM
Lt. Samuel Zion slammed the butt of his Benelli 8-Gauge into the stomach of one convict and flicked his wrist extending the collapsing baton in his other hand bringing it down on another convict’s skull with a satisfying thud.
“This is Lt. Zion,” Samuel said into the VOX mike on the shoulder of his equipment harness. “The inmates have been subdued send in a clean up team,” he reported.
“Roger Lt., we’ve got a riot squad headed your way, any medical attention needed,” Central Control asked.
“Not for me anyway,” Zion said looking around at the two dozen groaning and unconscious bodies on the floor. But the inmates need some, probably some concussions and a few broken bones,” he told the dispatch operator.
“Roger Lt., Riot Squad ETA is two minutes and five for the medics,” Central Control told him.
“Acknowledged, Zion out,” Samuel leaned against the wall and collapsed the baton to it’s normal twelve inches as he slid it back into it’s case then inspected his shotgun, thankfully the thin metal folding stock hadn’t been bent.
Zion had gotten lucky and he knew it, if the escaping inmates had been more organized or if there had been more of them he’d have gotten his butt handed to him but thankfully they had been neither and with some skill and luck he’d managed to subdue the lot without much physical damage to themselves and practically none to himself save for a bruise that was forming under his left eye.
Zion was still leaning against the wall a lit cigarette dangling from his lips when the Riot Squad arrived.
The leader of the Riot Squad looked at Zion and shook his head as he ordered his men to start cuffing and shackling the less injured inmates and taking them back to their cells.
When the Medical Squad arrived Dr. Peggy Allen shook her head at the carnage, “Did you have to be so rough taking them down, plus you’re not supposed to be smoking on the station,” she questioned him.
“One, there were two dozen of them and one of me,” Zion said flicking ash onto the toes of her boots. “Two, screw the regs, I’m leaving today anyway,” Zion ground the butt out against the wall before flicking it into the trash can five feet away and started walking down the corridor.
Allen started to raise one of her hands towards him then let it fall back to her side as one of the medics called to her and she rushed off.
Zion slung his shotgun over his shoulder as he entered the locker rooms. Quickly pulling off his police equipment harness and his police issue Skinsuit he started to change into street clothes but grabbed his old AADT Skinsuit and put that on instead. Recent regulation changes required anyone that was within one airlock away from the hull to be wearing one. After changing he pulled several equipment cases out of his locker then even more from the tops of the lockers as well as several duffels and a couple of briefcases.
Slinging as many of the duffels, bags, and cases over his shoulders as he could manage he tossed the rest on a folding two wheel cart.
Zion wended his way through the SSPF station saying his goodbyes and entered the docking facility waiting room to wait for his ride.
Ignoring the signs that were posted throughout the waiting room he chain smoked for the next few hours getting dirty looks from visitors, fellow officers just shook their heads and ignored him.
“Warning, Warning, Docking Bay Opening In Sixty Seconds,” a female voice said over the waiting rooms intercom. “All non-environmentally suited personnel have sixty seconds to vacate the docking bay, please secure all loose objects and environmental suits, zero-gravity in thirty seconds,” the recorded voice repeated.
Zion flicked his latest cigarette butt into a trash can and put his Skinsuits helmet on sealing it. Around him other waiting passengers did the same, he was glad he had taken the time earlier to put his on before coming here, rushing the plumbing connections on a Skinsuit could be very painful.
“Warning, Warning, Docking Bay Opening In Thirty Seconds,” The intercom blared out.
Zion did a quick glance around to make sure everybody in the room had all green tell tales on their suits. He wasn’t doing it out of altruistic reasons but mainly because he didn’t want to help clean up the mess and fill out the paperwork. Satisfied that everyone was properly suited Zion hit the counter gravity control module on his two-wheel cart and it started floating shortly before the gravity in the waiting room switched off.
Klaxon’s blared as the docking bay evacuated its atmosphere and then the huge three meter thick doors slid open and a battered Halcyon-Class Escort ship nosed its way into the docking bay. The huge docking clamps clanged into place and a boarding tube spun out and locked into place on the air lock.
Two Skinsuited figures swam out of the boarding tube and drifted towards the waiting room door, one figure dwarfed the other and had to be at least 1.9+ meters and must have tipped the scales at 160 kilos. The two of them with expert movements swam across the docking bay and locked their magnetic boots into place as the bay doors slammed shut and oxygen started refilling the cavernous bay; a few minutes later artificial gravity was returned to the bay and the two figures unlocked their boots and made their way to the waiting room where everyone had now take their helmets off with the removed threat of decompression just a single door away.
Zion lit a new cigarette as the door slid open and the two figures entered and removed their helmets.
“God I hate canned air,” Jack said opening one of the slit pockets on his skin suit and extracting a cigar and putting it between his teeth.
“I see you’re still smoking those foul ass cigarettes of yours,” Rick said to Samuel as he pulled his helmet off and put his mirrored aviator shades back on.
“And I see you still have those asinine sunglasses,” Samuel commented back.
Rick just shrugged.
“This all your shit,” Jack asked tapping the pile of bags.
“Yup,” Zion said grabbing the two-wheel cart and lugging it towards the door to the bay.
Jack grabbed several more of the bags and nodded to the last two cases on the floor and made motion with his chin to Rick.
Rick sighed and picked up the two cases and practically pulled his shoulders out of their sockets. “What the hell do you have in here; a friggin’ Nuke?” He yelled after Samuel.
“Possibly,” Zion said laconically over his shoulder.
Rick blanched and carefully picked up the cases. It wouldn’t surprise him much if Zion did have a brief case nuke in one of the bags, after all Zion was well Zion.
Back aboard the Hoplite Rick and Jack got Samuel squared away and left the SSPF station and pointed the ship for Mars.
It took another five days to reach Mars and they landed at Cidonia Spaceport. Jack rented a four-wheel drive and the three of them piled in. Jack pointed the nose of the vehicle into the Martian Desert headed for the Cirque Soleil Mars Compound.
Passing through town they stopped at a Quickie Stop Mart. Inside the store the three of them picked up water and various unhealthy snacks for the four hour trip into the Martian Desert.
The others had already left the store and gotten back in the car by the time Jack got into line his arms filled with several bottles of water and his favorite snack beef jerky. In front of him was a tall lanky man wearing a dark red duster, had spiky blonde hair, and was wearing a pair of round lensed gold tinted sunglasses obscuring his eyes.
Something about the man was setting off alarms in Jack’s head but he couldn’t quite put his finger on why they were going off so he just shrugged and set the thought aside as he juggled the bottles of water and several bags of teriyaki flavored beef jerky watching as the man in front of him set a pair of two gallon jugs of orange juice on the counter.
The clerk rang up the orange juice and red duster slid his cred card through the reader and was rewarded by a warbling chime as the clerk’s eyes blanched as he read what came across the screen and started backing up as he gulped in large breaths of air and his eyes widened to the size of tea saucers.
“Darn, I knew I should have used cash instead of that cred card I got from that guy,” Spiky Hair said as he tossed several bills on the counter and grabbed up the jugs of orange juice turning towards the door he found himself confronted by the barrel of one of Jack’s FN pistols.
“Well gee all I wanted was some orange juice no need to be pulling a gun on me,” Blondie said quietly as he raised his hands to either side still holding the jugs of orange juice.
“Too bad for you that I know what that chime means,” Jack said moving one hand down to the pocket of his jacket where his comm was.
Blondie raised his eyebrows in a questioning look.
“It means you are a wanted fugitive and are considered armed and dangerous,” Jack elaborated as his hand closed around the comm.
“Oh so you would expect me to pull a gun and shoot you instead of doing this,” the man said slamming one of the jugs of orange juice into the side of Jack’s head causing it to burst and then using the other one to knock the FN and comm out of his hands.
Jack reeled back sticky orange fluid dribbling down his face and burning his eyes; he heard the bell above the door ring and saw the tail of the red duster exit the building as he clawed the acidic fluid from his burning eyes. Cursing venomously he reeled over to the counter and grabbed the clerk by the front of his vest and ripped it off and used it to quickly wipe the fluid from his face and eyes. Pulling the other FN out he crashed through the door to the parking lot to find it empty save for the rented SUV.
Blinking he looked around with the pistol at full extension turning from side to side as the drivers side window of the SUV rolled down.
“Uhm, Jack why are you all wet and waving your gun around like a mad man?” Rick asked through the window.
“Did you just see a blond guy in a red duster come out this door?” Jack asked pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and mopping more of the orange juice from his hair.
Rick looked at Samuel in the back seat and turned back around. “Nah, nobody has come out that door since we got in the car,” he told him.
“Where the hell did he go then,” Jack muttered to himself as he walked back into the convenience store and found the clerk fiddling with his other gun. “Give me that,” he said yanking it out of the clerk’s hands. “Didn’t anybody ever teach you not to play with guns,” he snarled making the clerk step back a few paces. Slightly satisfied with the reaction he went into the bathroom and cleaned off as much of the sticky fluid as possible then paid for his water and beef jerky and left the store.
“Soooo, what’s goin’ on?” Rick asked.
Jack related what had happened in the store as he put on a clean shirt and climbed in the passenger side, finishing his tale he ripped open one of the bags of jerky and started chewing on it as if it were plate steel.
“Huh, now that is weird,” Rick said. “Maybe he ducked around the corner before we saw him,” he suggested.
“Sons of Merlin,” Samuel muttered.
Jack spun around in his seat. “You’re still going on about those damned magic users,” he growled.
Rick glanced in the rearview mirror at Samuel over the rim of his mirrored shades. “Seriously man magic doesn’t exist,” Rick told him matter of factly.
Samuel just shrugged at his friend’s reactions and then went back to reading the copy of guns and explosives that he had been perusing.
It took another hour and a half to finally reach the Cirque Soleil Mars compound and when they reached the facility the air was rent by the sound of trumpeting elephants, roaring lions, and growling bears as well as the scent of animal dung, stale peanuts, and popcorn.
Rick pulled up to the guarded gate circling the compound and pulled out his ID handing it to the guard at the gate as he walked up.
“Thank you sir,” the guard checked the ID against a list on his E-PADD and then handed it back. “You’re cleared for entry but I still need to know who you are coming to see,” he told them politely.
“Renfield and Fuji Satokawa,” Rick told the guard.
“Okay,” the guard tapped some more buttons on his E-PADD. “They are currently in Pavilion 40. Would you like me to download a map to your system?” The guard asked.
“Sure,” Rick said and handed over his own E-PADD.
The guard quickly pulled the connector from his E-PADD and slid it into the slot on Rick’s; after a few seconds it beeped and the guard handed it back. “Just follow those directions and you’ll be there in about ten minutes. You gentlemen have a nice day,” the Guard told them turning back to the gate and waved to another guard on the other side of the fence in a little hut and the gate started sliding open. Once it was fully open Rick nosed the car through and set his E-PADD on the dash so he could see the directions more easily.
It took the three of them nearly thirty minutes to find pavilion 40; they were stopped numerous times by performers in bright clothes as well as hordes of animals or vehicles hauling supplies between the buildings.
Pavilion 40 was a huge white and green striped big top style tent and there was as much activity around it as they had seen at the dozens of other huge tents that they had passed on their way here.
The tent itself was approximately 150 meters on a side with four towering corners held up by huge poles and was situated over a large hard packed red dirt lot that was situated between two of the fused ceramocrete roads that lead down the center of the compound. The three of them exited the SUV and walked towards a huge flap in the side of the tent that stood open with another guard standing off to the side talking to a clown already in costume with a small Capuchin Monkey on a four foot leash wearing a white shirt and red trousers held up by black suspenders. The monkey seemed to be ignoring the clown and guard but started a ruckus as soon as it saw Rick and managed to yank its leash free of the clown after a few tugs and leapt over to Rick. Landing on his shoulder the monkey immediately pulled off his aviator glasses put them on and then jumped off dashing into a crowd of performers headed down the roadway.
“Hey!” Rick shouted as the monkey nearly pulled one of his ears off as it absconded with his aviator shades that he had since graduating from flight school.
“Looks like there are a few other creatures in this solar system with just as bad of taste as yours,” Jack said dryly.
“I’ll have you know those sunglasses have gotten me many a date,” Rick said indignantly.
“Sure they have,” Jack said his tone doing a fair imitation of the Sahara desert as he pulled out a pair of ballistic sunglasses and slipped them on.
“Coulda been worse,” Samuel said.
“Oh and how worse could it have been?” Rick retorted.
“He could have flung his poo at you instead,” Samuel told him with a straight face and pulled out his own sunglasses.
Trying even harder to keep a straight face Jack walked towards the guard that was at the entrance of the tent and waited for him to finish speaking with the clown that had been with the monkey.
“How are you gentlemen today?” The guard asked as they walked up. “And what can I do for you?”
“We’re here to see Renfield and Fuji Satokawa,” Jack said handing their ID’s to the guard who passed them under the scanner of his E-PADD and then handed them back.
“Okay you are on the approved list,” he nodded to them. “The Satokawas are at the rear of the main area practicing,” he downloaded a map to Jack’s E-PADD that showed a highlighted path to where the brothers were practicing.
“Just be careful and stay out of the way, today is practice day for most of the larger animals and they can be a might skittish sometimes around unknown people,” the guard warned them.
Jack thanked the guard and motioned to Samuel and Rick and they followed Jack into the tent. The winding course that took them through the big top tent took them around most of the larger animal training areas such as the tiger, bear, and lion training sections but what they saw in the tent still over awed them. They saw a beautiful petite woman in a lavender leotard and purple tights riding two small ponies at high speed around a circular track as she attempted flips and jumps, there were half a dozen other performers in similar tights and leotards; some male and some female; watching her practice and a small team of medics also stood by the practice areas as well in case of an emergency.
The activity in the tent was even more frenetic and energetic than that going on outside in the main compound, the smells of fresh straw and hay, as well as animal dung and human and animal sweat mingled into a mélange of odors that while not entirely pleasant didn’t reek as bad as many of the things the three friends had encountered during their years of military service. To a degree was quite pleasant as it mixed with the shouts of instructions, commands, and the occasional laughter or cheer as something either went right or laughably wrong.
As they continued their winding trek through the tent to enter quieter sections and passed several walled off areas that had been converted to classrooms both for small children to learn and education and into adult classes that taught the latest in make-up, gags, animal handling and training as well as a few classes that held burly men who were most likely the roustabouts as they went through safety training and new technologies and techniques that would make their jobs, quicker, easier, and safer.
Jack, Rick, and Samuel, finally reached a small wooden walled area that was indicated on the map as where the Satokawas were practicing and the quiet was broken by the repetitive sssssssssshhhhhhhhh-thunk of metal piercing wood. As they reached the doorway they were greeted by the ssshhh, ssshhh, ssshh, thunk, thunk, thunk, as blonde-haired and blue-eyed Renfield Satokawa sank three throwing knives almost to their hilts in the bull’s eye of a large red and white target.
“Well at least you can hit the broadside of a barn while standing inside of it now,” Jack said as he entered the room.
Renfield stopped what he was doing and dropped the knives still in his hand on the table where his brown haired, brown eyed brother Fuji stood running various blades down the side of a whetstone.
Although the brothers were twins you could never tell it without them actually telling you. Renfield took after their German mother and stood a little over six feet and had blonde hair and blue eyes while his brother took after their father and stood just shy of five feet and had brown hair and brown eyes and the epicanthic folds of his Asian ancestry.
“If I remember last time we did our qualifications for the M30 rifle I out shot you by a pretty fair margin,” Ren said clasping Jack‘s forearm.
“Phhhttt, I was half drunk and working on a really good hangover, that’s the only reason you out shot me, that and Gunnery Sergeant Tackett is as blind as a bat,” Jack gripped his friend’s forearm firmly and then clasped Fuji’s as he came over.
“What up Sarge,” Fuji said in his surfer boy accent. Fuji had gone to college at UC Berkeley on Earth and since then had talked like a surfer waiting for his next wave.
“Nothing much, just a little bit of info I picked up that might let us get a little bit of revenge,” Jack told him bearing a wolfish grin showing off white teeth. “Operation Hell’s Hoplite is now in affect,” he told them.
The other four people in the room also bore disquieting grins at the word revenge and something cold and hungry flowed through the room at the shared smile. It seemed it was finally time to get some back for friends lost and crippled those many years ago.
Sol System - Saturn Orbit - Near Asteroid KIA-27858
Privately Registered Vessel Hoplite
June 29th 2535 AD - 11:07
Jack slapped the armored shoulder of Samuel’s Skinsuit letting him know that the inspection was done, and Samuel turned around to do the same to Jack as Fuji and Ren completed their own inspections. The four of them were currently in the airlock of the Hoplite preparing to head for KIA-27858. The four of them were armed for bear with each having an Aigars Arms 12.5mm Gyro jet Assault rifle with attached 25mm rocket launcher slung underneath it and their own various implements of destruction. The rifles had come from a batch that Samuel had “Requisitioned” from the SSPF evidence locker and hadn’t returned.
Samuel would be leading the four of them to the crashed vessel with Jack following him into the vessel itself to investigate for any clues they could find while Ren and Fuji walked the perimeter performing security and to police the area for any possible clue to the ship’s attackers.
The SERPA; self-contained environmental rapid propulsion and attitude; packs that were attached to their suits would allow them to stay out for an extra six hours and give them the ability to rapidly move from spot to spot at the crash site and back to the Hoplite.
While Ren and Fuji circled the wreckage site Samuel and Jack made their way into the vessel and thoroughly searching the wreckage. The two of them were about to give up after almost five hours of searching but just as they were about to leave through a forward hatch near the passenger cabin Jack spotted a flash of silver on one of the seats.
Bending over and trying to avoid catching the SERPA on anything he picked a matchbook up off of the seat. It was white with a stylized silver cloud and the name Gray Cloud Bistro on the front with its address listed on the back; Deck 32 Lot 90 Haven Station.
Jack slipped the matchbook into a pocket on his web-gear. “I found something but we should probably head back to the ship and take a look at what it is,” he told Samuel.
“Probably a good idea after what I just found under the main control panel,” Samuel told him.
“What did you find?” Jack asked with a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach.
“Oh, only about twenty-five pounds of composition ten,” Samuel said rather nonchalantly.
“Oh I guess that would be a pretty good reason,” Jack said. “How soon?” He asked.
“We’ve got a whole five minutes and change,” Samuel replied. “Probably started timing down once I opened the panel,” he told Jack.
“Well I guess we should really get going then,” Jack said and the two of them raced for the exit hatch. Screaming over the com for Ren and Fuji to clear the area and two minutes later the four of them were jetting back towards the ship at high speed. Three minutes after that they were just cycling through the airlock when the ship shook from the shockwave of the explosion.
Sol System - Saturn Orbit - Space Station Haven
Hotel Montego Suite 3A
June 29th 2535 AD - 16:57
Slender strong fingers grabbed the beeping E-PADD and pulled it under the large comforter covering the bed and a sharp curse came out from under it as a female voice grunted in annoyance and the E-PADD went sailing across the room and smacked into the wall cracking the screen and smashing the casing.
Sarissa Hermanez crawled out from under the covers and showered. Grabbing her spider-silk suit from the closet she slid into its cool skin-tight fabric. Stopping in front of the mirror she pushed a pair of engraved ivory chopsticks into her red hair to hold it back and finished smoothing out the last of the wrinkles in the gray material and grabbed her comm.
“Jacob this is Sarissa; someone just set off your little booby trap,” she said into the comm.
“Wah, whu-uh,” the drunken and reddened face of Jacob Midea said as it appeared on her comm.
“I said; you larcenous, fat, smelly, cretinous, rotgut swilling, moron; someone has set off the booby trap that was left behind at the Kawamura vessels crash site,” Sarissa explained making sure she enunciated the longer words so that he would be able to understand them controlling her anger at the bastard’s laziness.
Jacob blinked his eyes a few times and then sat up knocking a bottle off of his lap along with dumping a whore ass over tea kettle onto the ground with a squawk.
“Get Vascarelli, Morgan, and Pritnou and head for the crash site,” Midea ordered his piggy eyes squinting through the comm.
“That would be a bad idea,” Sarissa told the so-called pirate captain.
“And why would that be?” Midea growled standing up and buttoning his pants.
“Because,” Sarissa said calmly holding back her anger as much as possible. “If we show up and some of them are left they could attack us or just follow us back to here or the hide-out, and we want to keep our little package as safe as possible,” she told him.
“Oh, you’re right, we’ll lay low for awhile then and see what happens,” Midea said in a more sober tone.
“Good idea,” Sarissa said rolling her eyes and setting the comm down and buckling her equipment belt around her waist. 
On the comm Midea pulled on his shirt and pulled a shoulder holster holding a massive gold plated Desert Eagle from the back of the chair he had been sitting in. “We’ll meet at the Gray Cloud in,” Midea glanced down at his watch. “In about two and a half hours,” he told her.
“Alright I’ll comm the others and meet you there,” Sarissa shut off the comm and sat down in a chair pulling her boots on. The knee high combat boots with the inch and a ½ soles and heels may have seemed like a fashion affectation but they were steel toed and gave her a couple extra inches of height and some added weight when kicking. Finished lacing the boots up she grabbed her gray leather jacket and made sure her Glock 53 chambered for .357 Magnum was loaded and slid it into the sideways holster on the back of her belt. Standing up she dropped the comm back into her jacket pocket and headed for the door to her room.
She would have just enough time to comm the other fifteen members of the pirate crew and then do some shopping.
Sol System - Saturn Orbit - Space Station Haven
Grey Cloud Bistro
June 29th 2535 AD - 2:30 PM
The Grey Cloud was a small somewhat upscale bistro in a decent sector of the huge space station known as Haven, unfortunately for the Grey Cloud, it’s most oft visiting customer was Pirate Captain Jacob Midea and his crew of sixteen scoundrels and scalawags. 
As Sarissa entered the bistro and once again admired the somewhat Mediterranean décor she was still amazed that Midea had enough taste buds left to appreciate the fine cuisine that the bistro’s chef put out; considering all the rotgut swill that he drank.
The Grey Cloud was small with a buffet against one wall and half a dozen booths on another and a dozen tables large enough for two couples scattered over the burgundy carpeting. The upper portions of the walls had been painted a light blue with gray storm clouds painted near the ceiling with the occasional bolt of silver lightning breaking the clouds, and the lower portion had been paneled in alternating strips of dark walnut and light teak.
Sarissa stopped her musing as she walked towards the four tables that had been pushed together near the rear of the dining area and noticed that there were no other customers besides Midea and his crew, she also saw that they had already ordered and gotten their food.
“So nice of you guys to wait,” She said sarcastically.
“You snooze you lose Sari,” Clay Pritnou said jokingly looking up from some stuffed grape leaves that he was eating, another plate with lamb sat next to it, untouched for the minute.
“You’re lucky I allow you to use that moniker Clayface,” Sarissa said giving him the finger and sat down flipping through the menu sitting in front of her seat. When the waitress came to take her order she did so in fluent Greek.
“So what’s the plan boss?” Sarissa asked Midea.
Midea looked up from some dish that was already mostly gone and leered at Sarissa running his eyes up her body and stopped at her breasts. The gray spider silk suit didn’t leave much to the imagination and accentuated Sarissa’s high well shaped breasts. While they weren’t huge were just perfectly shaped for her size and while her boobs wouldn‘t fit in a French wineglass they certainly weren‘t considered overly large. Combined with her lithe muscular body the total package was one that everyone tended to stare at the first time they met Sarissa.
Jacob Midea on the other hand was the epitome of greasiness. He had long lank hair that had pretensions of mulletism even though there were only a few stray strands of hair left on top of his head. The hair was also oilier than a grease pit, he wore a greasy dirty leather vest over a stained wife beater that at some point in the last century might have been white, and the leather pants and boots he wore weren’t far behind in the dirty department. He ate with fat greasy sausage like fingers and rolls of fat mostly hid his fat piggy eyes, about the only thing that wasn’t filthy about Midea were his well oiled Sam Brown belt and the gold plated Desert Eagle that rode his hip.
Sarissa leant over so that her face was within view of Midea. “Hi, by the way my face is up here, now stop staring at my boobs,” She snarled.
Midea just chuckled and stared at her boobs for a few more seconds and then moved up to her face. “I was just making sure you hadn’t taken any bodily harm since I last saw you,” he told her with another leer.
“Yeah, sure,” Sarissa said rolling her eyes, for some reason Midea thought she was his personal property even though she wouldn’t touch him with a ten foot pole glue to the end of a battle cruiser.
“So boss what are we going to do about someone setting off the bomb at the crash site?” One of the less intelligent miscreants sitting at the table and eating a hamburger asked breaking the slight tension that had built between the pirate captain and his second in command.
“Well why don’t we see what Sarissa has to suggest?” Midea chuckled thinking he was putting her on the spot.
Sarissa just nodded pulling out a new E-PADD and setting it on the table. Scrolling through the notes she had entered since purchasing it. “First off we’ll keep the Sorbonne here and send the Louvre back to the hide-out, and we’ll only keep a skeleton crew here on Haven while the others go back aboard the Louvre,” Sarissa still cringed at the names that Midea had given the ships even though France itself hadn’t existed as more than a theme park for over four hundred years.
Sarissa continued in her explanatory vein for a few hours and ate her meal as she extrapolated the details of her plan that she had thrown together to prevent the pirates from being discovered by whoever had set off the trap aboard the crashed Kawamura vessel.
Category:Hell's Hoplites
Category:Hell's Hoplites - Thebes
Category:Dramatized Historical Documents