Trajectory, Deck 15, pilot VR area service access tunnel... moments before the mine detonation

"They've gone through this hatch! We gotta get it open!" - one of the pursuing Insurgents growled, as the trio found themselves at the end of the access tunnel. Unlike the doors, this hatch had no exposed control panel that could be blasted - just a simple locking mechanism.

"Locked from inside... but it's not that strong! Gimme a hand here, maybe we can yank it open... you stay back and cover us, in case they're waiting inside." - another of the rebels spoke, gripping the handhold tightly, and planting one foot against the bulkhead for leverage, before he started pulling on the hatch. Another joined him. Just as the two of them started trying to force open the hatch - the ship jolted HARD. All three men were sent flying into the opposite bulkhead, two of the three rifles flying out of their grip.

"Owgg... what the hell was that...?!" - one groaned, getting the wind knocked out of him a bit, before a light-panel above suddenly burst, in a shower of sparks and flames, making him shield his face.

"Maybe somethin' outside hit us-- I don't think it's safe staying in this tiny access tunnel!" - one of the others exclaimed, about to head back into the more spacious VR sections. The man at the tail end of the accessway stopped him.

"Hey! You're not goin' anywhere till we find those Gloomie runners!"

"Fuck you... you wanna crawl in there while this thing gets buckled around?! Be my guest... I'm not suicidal! No tellin' how many power lines go through there that can burst in my face!" - the first one retorted, trying to push past.

"HOLD IT! You know what the boss ordered!" - the other one shoved him back.

"Then let him crawl in there! Now GET THE FUCK out of my way!" - the first snarled, shoving back. Just as the altercation was about to develop into a full brawl between the two, the third one tried to separate them...

"Hey cut it out, we've got better--" - he never finished the sentence, as the hatch behind them suddenly burst-open, making all three look behind them...

...and a bracket of needle-fire came out, before any of the three could even get their weapons to bear. The man who attempted to separate the two, was the first one to go down. A dozen rapid-fire shots flashed at his back, most stopped by his synthweave, but a few partially burning through, sending him off his feet in pain, face-down on the deck. One intersected just at the seam of his neckpiece, partially going over it, scoring his neck. One hand clutching the back of his neck, he twitched uncontrollably on his face, out of the fight. One of the partially-burned-through needles must have caught him in the spine.

The other two leapt aside, scrabbling for their rifles, even as the first shape scrambled out of the hatch, firing as he came - a lean man in his mid 20's, in Conglomerate engineer's uniform bearing the rank pin of enlistee. The two shapes behind him kept firing as well, sustaining a barrage of needle-blasts at the two still-mobile Insurgents.

The access tunnel before the hatch access made for a natural channel for needle-bolts, and was narrow enough that there were precious few opportunities for the two rebels to take any cover. One took a blast to the side, not penetrating, then another to his thigh, where the synthweave was thinner - burning through and making him stumble into a wall, with a groan of pain. The other managed to bring his rifle to bear, snapping-off a shot at the lead figure, taking the lean engineer into the pelvis.

***

"AAAAAGHHH!" - the second enlistee, the first one out, doubled-over in agony, collapsing, screaming uncontrollably, as the needle took him in the crotch. Kosinski mentally vinced - he'd rather take a killshot, then one there. But he gritted his teeth as he crawled out next, continuing the fire at the two still-standing rebels. One was wounded in the leg, stumbling over into a bulkhead, the other took one of his needles to the chestpiece - not penetrating, as the rebel fired two more shots... one flashing milimeters past Kosinski's cheek to ricochet off the hatch's side, the other taking him full in the chest.

"Lucky me..." - was the crewman's last coherent thought, before he perished, a gaping, smoldering hole opened up in his ribcage.

Behind him, Annike Rand's face was locked into a snarl, as she dove out of the hatch on her stomach, partially taking cover behind Kosinski's corpse, as two more shots flashed toward the hatch entrance, one whizzing over her head, the other burying itself in the flesh of her impromptu human barricade.

"FUCK YOU!!!" - she snarled, depressing the trigger of her needler as fast as her finger would work, sending an unremitting barrage of bolts at the rebel who just shot Kosinski. A dozen needles flashed at him, more then half hitting, taking the man in the chest and gut, several partially burning-through, sending him off his feet to his back, as he dropped the rifle. She shifted aim at the last one, hopping in place near the bulkhead, as he fired one ineffective shot, going wide over her head, the pain in his thigh clearly affecting his aim... firing three more shots; two missing, one catching him in the gut, but not burning through the armour. On the third one, her pistol let out a tortured crackle of burned electronics, as the barrel caught fire. She overheated her needler. Not surprisingly, the sidearm was never designed for sustained use like this, and the prefire chamber wasn't adequately cooled for rapid-fire use.

"Damn it..." - she reflexively threw the flaming weapon at the face of the last rebel, disrupting his aim at her own face, making him duck out of reflex as the metallic ball of fire came at him. Then she leapt up, charging him.

***

"Bitch.." - that Insurgent snarled, straightening, as the wired woman came rushing at him. Unable to balance on both legs, the pain in his thigh flaring, he aimed... but the snap-kick to the rifle's barrel sent the weapon flying out of his grip, to clatter agains the bulkhead. Then she was onto him, ducking his right hook, as her left palm came upwards into his chin, in a crisp open palmed uppercut. He saw a couple of stars, but managed to block her followup cross, as he elbowed her to the face in return. Blood painted itself out of her left nostril, but didn't seem to phase her at all, as she caught his right arm and twisted in a reverse wrist-lock, while her knee shot up into his crotch.

"Nnggh..." - he stumbled backwards, the pain in his thigh now joined by the dull pain in his ballsack, and shooting pain in his dislocated wrist.

***

Tasting some blood in her mouth from the rebel's crisp elbow to her nose, Annike shoved him fully into the bulkhead, after kneeing him. She slipped a desperate left-straight from him, sidled-in close, then planted a hinge of her firmed-up right palm below his chin, diagonally upwards into his throat, in a sharp chop, a shuto-uchi.

"Kkkkhhhh..." - the Insurgent gurgled, momentarily unable to inhale as his asophagus was compressed, his neck drooping forward. She advanced, grabbing him in a tight armpit-choke... then twisted HARD to the side. With an audible cracking of vertebrae, she felt his neck give way. Her bloodied face almost spread into a grin, as she let the body slide out of her arms, to the deck. Then she looked back at the dead Kosinski, while the other crewman continued to scream in pain on the deck, clutching his... burned hole, where his crotch used to be.

Shaking her head to herself with a sigh, she picked up one of the rifles the rebels dropped. Putting a pair of shots into the heads of the other two Insurgents, finishing them both off as well, she then approached the surviving crewman, holding the rifle.

"Want me to end it? Or wanna tough it out until help gets here?" - she asked, tone tight and flat. She refused to allow herself to feel anything, anymore, since either uncontrolled rage or uncontrolled desperation threatened to surface again.

"AAggghh... I D-DONT... want to live... like this! That - that son... AAAAH... son of a bitch... shot my fuckin' dick off! NNNNNNNNHHHH!" - the crewman raved, continuing to writhe on the floor. "K...k... kill me! AAhhhh... END IT, LT!! Please..."

Annike's lip twitched, as she vacillated for a moment, indecisive. Shaking her head again, this time to the man, she reached one foot to one of the needlers lying on the deck, sliding it over within his reach.

"Not in the business of mercy-killing our people. If you wanna end it, do it yourself, crewman. Just..." - her tone broke slightly there, as she swallowed hard "...just be sure it's what you really want, and... and not what your pride's telling you to do." - she turned and stormed out into the VR areas, not giving him a chance to reply.

"Why the hell am I still alive?" - the woman wondered briefly, in a mixture of post-adrenaline reaction, controlled anger, and grim resignation, thinking of the four... possibly five-to-be... corpses back in that access corridor. She fervently hoped the crewman would choose to live. Then she shook her head to herself, checking the power charge on the rifle she picked up. At least she now had firepower to cut down one of these bastards directly.

***

Deck 15, Armoury...

"This'll do the trick..." - the bearded Insurgent leader muttered in satisfaction, as he spotted a package of breach-charges in the corner. Normally used to bust-through collapsed sections to get to trapped crewmen, in the case of structural collapse, armouries on each deck contained them. By themselves, they didn't pack much of a punch, more designed to clear out loose rubble and debris, then blast through a reinforced door... but several of them wired together, would certainly be enough to break through the already-weakened inner doors to the hangar.

"Grab that crate... and let's move!" - he ordered two of the rebels, who promptly did as instructed. Then the entire group started their way back out the doorway... only to find a section of corridor leading directly to the anteroom, on fire. That massive jolt from a minute ago, clearly did more then just jostle them around, and throw a couple of boxes on their heads. The ship had taken significant damage.

"We'll have to go around... move it!" - the leader growled, motioning the group to go the opposite way.

"Boss, this'll take us all around the deck, to even get back to the main corridor..." - one of the others complained.

"So pick up the fuckin' pace! I want to be back in the anteroom before more company comes! And we still need to get back to our breach-pods and exfiltrate after clearing the hangar." - the bearded one retorted tersely.

"You think we'll even manage through the asteroid field, boss?" - another one pointed out.

"We've got maps of all the mined areas, we'll be fine. As long as we can make sure this or any of their fighters don't take a shot at us as we get away. That means keepin' em too busy dealing with our other squads below!"

Just as he said that, a communuque came to his handheld comm unit, from one of the other Insurgent squads. As they weren't part of the ship's comm grid, they could still operate over short distances.

"Boss, there's a whole bunch more Marines on their way up! We hit 'em, but they didn't even slow down, just bypassed our positions on 18! We think they're on their way up to you!"

His face darkened under his beard. So, the jig was up... somebody did slip through, and got a message down to the MOC. All the more reason for them to hustle. 18... three decks down. Assuming they were using the service areas, it would take them another couple of minutes to get here.

"MOVE IT!" - he snapped, now breaking up into a run, at the head of the group, as they navigated the corridors.

"You two, grab some oxygen-torches from our stash back at the ingress point! Go weld the access doors to the lower-deck service areas shut... might buy us a couple more minutes when those marines get up here!" - he ordered two of his men.

At that moment, they rounded a corner - to basically collide with Ron Skitt, dashing the opposite way, still on his way to the fighter refueling areas.

"Bloody... what ya doin' here, lad? Haven't found your Gloomie tart yet?" - then continued before Skitt could reply, "Nevermind that, we've got more marines on the way! Go with these two and help 'em seal the access to lower deck service areas. NOW!" - he ordered.

"But I'm just on the way to--" - Skitt began defiantly, before the bearded one's fist came crashing to his cheek, in a cross.

"THAT'S AN ORDER! No more playin' games, yer either with us, or we needle you right here!" - he roared, as Skitt stumbled to the side, holding his cheek. A couple of others raised their rifles, but the bearded one waved them back.

"What'll it be?" - he growled at the turncoat.

Skitt glared in outrage, rubbing his face, but nodded.

"Yes... sir." - through his teeth, falling into step with the two on their way to the ingress point.

"This deal's looking worse by the minute... and I can't let the marines see me with the Innies, if it comes to it... shit. Shit, shit, shit! Not even sure we'll make it out of here in time..." - the man thought, biting his lip as he followed the two. Worry for his own skin now began to war with latent concern for Annike.

***

Back in the anteroom to the hangar...

The scarred female Insurgent and the two rebels with her, were fidgeting nervously next to the badly damaged inner blast doors. It had been a few minutes now, and there was still no sign of the boss, with the explosives.

"You think we should go check? Maybe that big boom got 'em in trouble somewhere on the way?" - one muttered.

"Boss said to hold this position, we hold this position! He'll be back, any moment now..." - she growled, shaking her head.

Suddenly, the flickering light-panel above them, winked out completely, plunging the anteroom in near-total darkness, lit only by the spillage of light from a couple of monitors at the walls. The three Insurgents looked around,startled.

"Shit... probably a burned contact somewhere in the circuitry... great. Get your beacons on!" - the woman muttered, feeling around for a switch, on the bottom of her rifle's stock.

At that moment, from the access corridor, a bright light turned on, flashing directly in their eyes. Dazzled momentarily, the three rebels recoiled in surprise.

"Boss?! That you?" - the woman called out.

A pair of needle-blasts came straight from the lightsource, each burning cleanly through her synthweave chestpiece. She was dead instantly.

"Holy shit... HIT THE DECK!" - one of the other two dove, firing blindly at the light. The other was frozen for a moment, as another pair of shots came, taking him down as well. The last surviving rebel continued firing blindly at the light, still dazzled, as he crawled backwards, trying to reach cover.

***

Annike's aim didnt waver, as a few shots zipped relatively close over her prone form, her rifle tracking the last one. She used the rifle's beacon to good effect, to keep the man blinded, as she gently squeezed the trigger again... taking the retreating Insurgent full in the face, making a charred mess of it.

She got up, ignoring a new flash of pain through her burned flank. That worked perfectly! She retraced her steps to just outside the corridor access, reconnecting the pair of wires she had just clipped, to take the lights out in the anteroom. Then she walked down the access corridor, into the room proper, coming to a stop over the two rebel corpses. The female one was still alive, groaning.

"Not exactly." - Annike smirked, stepping onto the woman's throat, keeping the pressure up until the Insurgent choked to death under her boot. Giving in to only a small amount of rage she felt. This bitch wasn't worth another needle.

Not wasting time, she then ran over to the badly-damaged blast doors.

"OPEN UP! It's Lieutenant Rand! The area's clear, let's get you armed before more of 'em show up! Then we'll give them a welcome!" - she shouted, jubilantly.

"Ma'am?! Wh- what are you doing down here?!" - one of the pilots' voices came back from beyond the doors, as they started sliding-open... slowly, managing to open only a quarter-way, given the significant buckling and structural damage they took.

Rand shook her head to herself in amusement. Benefit of knowing the layout better then any of their guests... she could make it back here quickly, using the other crawlways, while the main Insurgent group was busy taking the long way around to avoid the fire in the corridor near the armoury. They passed right under her, up in the crawlway, and she had a chance to overhear what that big bearded guy - who seemed to be their leader - said. She knew the anteroom was vulnerable. And she acted on it.

"Long story. C'mon out and grab a rifle. We'll have company soon." - she smiled at the pilot, as the doors allowed him, and a couple of others, to squeeze through. The three rifles from the downed Insurgents, were there for the taking.

"You ok, LT?" - that man peered at her burned side, then at the traces of blood around her nose. The wired woman shrugged.

"Been better. But I guess damage control sometimes takes a whole new meaning, on this ship." - glancing at the three Insurgent corpses she left behind, wrinkling her nose slightly at the acrid stench of burned flesh. She had killed before. Once. Years ago. But tonight was different... this was the first time she'd actually been through a full fledged warzone. Eyes narrowing ever-so-slightly.

"Yeah. Not how I planned to spend the night." - to herself. Out loud, she added:

"Now let's set up, they'll be here any moment!"

The three pilots nodded, finding good positions behind various pieces of equipment in the anteroom, their aim at the access corridor. Annike did the same. A couple more came in from the hangar, sidearm needlers in hands, but most of the rest stayed inside, to prep their fighters for launch, now that Hangar Control could bypass the lockout.

***

Near the service access doors to the lower deck maintenance crawlways...

Ron Skitt and the two Insurgents sent to weld the access doors shut, were hard at work with their oxygen-torches, before there was a sound of heavy footsteps on the other side of the doors... accompanied with muffled exclamations from the marines on the other side. From what Skitt could make out, they seeemd to have tried to open the doors, and failing that, were now setting shaped charges.

"Weld the doors shut... right. Like that's gonna stop a Marine squad. Fuck this shit... I'm out of here!" - he thought, stepping away and dropping his oxygen-torch.

"The hell you doin', Skitt? We ain't done yet! Get back to work!" - one of the rebels growled, glancing at him.

"You guys have fun!" - the turncoat retorted, turning and sprinting away, past the corner, before either of the rebels could even consider bringing his weapon to bear.

"HEY!" - a shout from one of them echoed behind him, but Ron wasn't paying attention. His number one priority now, was getting off the Trajectory. If he was captured - he knew what the punishment for traitors was. He doubted he'd even live to see the tribunal, as ship captains were given discretionary authority in dealing with these matters, in the field. Not to mention he was responsible for the deaths of an entire Marine squad, and who knows how many other crewmen, killed by the Tythazine release.

The ingress point was his only chance. Where the breach-pods broke through the outer hull and were ready to take off again. He suspected there would be a couple of Insurgents on guard duty there, so he mentally prepared himself to deal with them, as he arrived. Better then trying for the hangar, and one of the fighters there. Not to mention, if he made it out of the field, to the Insurgent force, they'd be less likely to fire at one of their own pods, then a Conglomerate fighter.

Behind him, two corridor intersections away by now as he ran, an explosive crash sounded out, followed by a brief staccato of needle-shots, and what he thought were a pair of death-screams. He only shook his head.

"Time to be FAR away from here. Fast!"

***

TacOps, Bridge... several minutes later

Alzer allowed himself to sag slightly in relief, in his chair, one of the medics working on his injured shoulder, as a deluge of jubilant reports continued piling in. Comms have been restored to the lower decks, as Deck 15 situation was finally resolved. According to the Marine reports, over half of the rebels on the deck were already dead when they arrived to mop up... hitting the main body of the Insurgent force on the deck, as they were trying to retake the hangar anteroom from an impromptu defensive line headed by Lieutenant Rand and a handful of armed pilots and flight techs. Between two fires, the Insurgent threat was rapidly eliminated.

He wanted badly to get down there and check on Annike, whom he was told, was instrumental in the victory... but the battle was far from over. The Trajectory was still licking her wounds, the power grid in disarray following the mine blasts, and would be some time before a breakout attempt could be made. With most of the battlecruiser's full fighter complement out, however, he felt confident that the breakout would be successful. If his ship held up. And given the rout of their main squad, including the leader, apparently, and containment and elimination of most of the other Insurgent squads aboard, he had no doubt that the enemy force outside the asteroid belt would now resort to extreme measures. So far they seemed intent on disabling and capturing the Trajectory. Now... he suspected outrigt destruction was the order of the day for them.

"Sir... we're picking up one of the breach-pods... they're trying to escape!" - the nav officer suddenly reported.

"Targeting..." - one of the tactical officers sounded out... "Negative acquisiton, sir! They're in our port blind spot, where we lost three PD's!"

"Order the fighters to intercept and destroy!" - Alzer snapped.

"Sir, the pod's course is taking it deeper into the field... no telling how many mines are still in there. They're following a specific flight path, likely the pod has the layout of the minefield on it's computer. We don't! Our fighters will be shredded to pieces in there." - his XO objected, peering at his screen.

Alzer bit his lip... he was right.

"Belay that!" - he amended the order, reluctantly, as he punched up the TacView, on the distant, and rapidly accelerating breach pod, weaving through the mass of rocks and gases. It seemed to be heading out towards the far edge, where mid-range scans showed one of the Insurgent gunships - likely the vessel sent to pick it up.

"Hangar Control, this is TacOps. Any idea who was in that pod that just screamed off?" - he opened a channel to deck 15.

"We think it's some of the surviving Innies, sir--" - the reply came from the hangar control officer, but a familiar voice butted in... Annike's:

"It's Ron! He's trying to escape! SHOOT HIM DOWN, DAMN IT!" - the woman's tone laced with unrestrained rage.

Reventon Alzer's face lit up, briefly... "Anni- Lieutenant Rand! Can you confirm that? Ensign Skitt was assisting the rebel forces?" - sounding dumb even to his own ears. But protocol demanded an official confirmation, for the record.

"What, did everyone up there go fuckin' deaf, or something?! THAT'S WHAT I JUST SAID!" - she snapped angrily. Alzer thought he could detect a trace of pain, in her voice. Was she hurt?!

The XO bristled at this. "Lieutenant Rand, you're out of line! You will address the capt--" - before Alzer cut him off with a chop of his hand and a glare.

"We can't, Lieutenant." - he replied to her, "We don't have the minefield layout, and we can't risk losing more of our fighters, since we'll be attempting a breakout soon. If you are feeling up to it, return to SysCon and take over the repair effort on our power grid. Otherwise, report to MedOps." - almost apologetically, but there was an undertone of anger in his tone, too. So his hunch was right... Skitt WAS a traitor.

"Somebody's head at Internal Affairs is gonna roll for this. I swear it. They put him on my ship..." - he thought darkly, as Rand's voice came back.

"I... I understand, Captain." - he thought he heard her grit her teeth, even over the comms, "...I'm fine. Just singed. I'll have the med people look me over while at my station. Rand out." - cutting off the comms before he could reply. He sighed inaudibly. He couldn't begin to imagine what this must feel like, to her. She was the one who vouched for the man.

The XO looked at him, in frustration.

"Sir, you can't continue to allow her this much lattitude in breaching protocol. It sets a bad example for--" - before Alzer gripped him by his uniform's collar, pulling him in close, ignoring the startled looks of several officers.

"SHUT. UP. And make yourself useful. Go coordinate the recalibration efforts for our tactical grid, we'll be needing all remaining weapons at full efficiency, for the breakout. Leave Lieutenant Rand to me." - releasing him and shoving him away, slightly.

His second-in-command adjusted his uniform, swallowing a retort, with a glare, before he saluted.

"Yes, sir." - stomping off, as Alzer scowled, more to himself then anyone in particular.

Not exactly the most tactful approach, but in light of what Annike had just done, to save them all... he didn't care. Nor did he care for the suddenly-telling looks, exchanged between several of the other officers. He knew this would only feed the rumours about him and her... but he didn't care. Not right now.

"What is this, a circus act on Nebia Minor?! Return to your stations and attend to your duties. I want this vessel ready for breakout, in fifteen minutes!" - he snapped in a tone that made it clear to everyone around, that the subject was closed.

***

EPILOGUE

Trajectory's breakout was tense and nailbiting, but with the battlecruiser's full fighter complement out, and the main power grid restored to a semblance of functionality, retracing their steps and punching through a picket screen of three gunships awaiting them on the edge of the asteroid belt, proved manageable. Two of the Insurgent vessels ended up destroyed, with a third disabled, as the battered-yet-still-functional battlecruiser shot through their ranks, their main weapons no match for the capital ship's heavy front armour, making for the lightspeed marker at the edge of the system. It's six dozen fighters remaining behind, to tie up the remaining two gunships and the rest of the Insurgent fighters, giving their mothership a chance to build up a lead, and covering the Trajectory's more vulnerable rear quarter.

The pilots knew that they would die. That there would be no recovery, or escape. Their fighters weren't capable of lightspeed on their own, and falling into Insurgent captivity was likely worse then death. But they fought to the end, claiming nearly half of the Insurgent fighter numbers, discharging their duty in the finest tradition of the Earth space forces, stretching back six centuries now.

-"Ave victores in morte!"-

Alzer spoke in Latin, honouring his pilots, holding a salute along with most of the bridge crew, Lieutenant Rand, in uniform, beside him, as she insisted on coming up to TacOps for the occassion. They looked back at the myriad of explosions and firebursts of the ongoing dogfight, on the magnified rear TacView display, which still raged far behind. Some of the Insurgents were in pursuit, but they wouldn't catch up in time, as the Trajectory was nearly to the lightspeed marker.

"This isn't over, Revvie." - he heard the woman's soft tone in his ear. He sighed softly.

"I vouched for him. I fuckin' DEFENDED him. And he almost got us all killed. He got all those pilots killed! And everyone else who died tonight!" - she continued, her whisper turning deadly.

"I found Mikaela... I mean... Crewman Mikaela Oltree..." - referring to the young woman's last name, which she checked in the database, earlier...

"...dead. She didn't even wanna be there. She was so scared. So fucking scared! I told her to hide... I PROMISED her she wouldn't die! Damn it." - the woman trailed off, seeing the girl's naked corpse in her mind's eye, where the marines found her, during the cleanup. Some Insurgent had found her and... had some fun with her... before killing her, her ripped uniform lying nearby.

"Not a promise anyone can keep, Anni." - Alzer murmured back, gently.

He could feel her stir, just as the ship made the jump to lightspeed, and the TacView feed died.

"I went down there ready to die, you know. I just wanted to buy us time to maybe have a chance, and get a shot at that son of a bitch. Ended up killing seven of those bastards, and surviving. Probably gonna have a nifty scar to show for it, when the medics take off the molecular bandage... Never got a shot at him though. She went down there hoping she wouldn't die. She was MADE to go down there. I FORCED her to go down there with me. I forced all of 'em to go down there with me. Where she was never supposed to be! And she got raped and murdered. Tell me, where's the fuckin' justice in that? She's dead because of me. They all are!" - she growled in a tone so low, he had to strain to hear it. Her fists clenched.

"NO." - Alzer growled back, equally low and firmly.

"Crewman Oltree died in the line of duty, defending her ship and crew. She will be remembered as such, as we memorialise our dead. She will also be granted a meritorious award, for valour above and beyond the call of duty. As will Crewmen Kosinski, Auld, Petti, Josalla, and Kreger." - referring to all the other enlistees of Rand's team. None of which survived.

"Fat lot of comfort that's gonna be, to their families..." - the woman whispered.

"I suppose you're gonna pin a few medals on me too, Revvie?" - trying to crack a smile, but failing.

"If you don't mind. To say that you've earned them, is an understatement. I've also spoken with Sargeant Tran of Squad Perseus... he says he wouldn't mind seeing you in his squad, Anni! Takes a lot to impress a marine sargeant, you know." - he smiled at her. At this, she had to smirk.

"Guess it's better to be lucky then good, eh?" - before she lost it again.

"But I promise you one thing. I'll find him and make him pay for this. ALL OF IT. Gonna make it official when we get back to port. I'll be requesting an extended leave of absence. I'm going after Ron Skitt. No matter which rock he crawls under, I'll find him. You can approve it or not... if you don't, I'll go AWOL. Your call, Revvie." - the woman hissed, before turning around on her heel, and departing the bridge.

He sighed, nodding to himself.

"You'll get it. And I'll be joining you." - softly. His anger was much less pronounced, but no less profound. Only his anger didn't just include Ron Skitt. The man was placed on his ship for a reason. And he was beginning to suspect that their assignment to the Sahel system, was just a cover, for this whole thing. Someone at IA had to know, that the man would try this. Those intel bastards always plan things three steps in advance.

Reventon Alzer's hunch told him there was a much deeper agenda, behind Skitt's defection.

THE END

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