1. Nightfall
Beneath a pair of twin moons, one of the many grassy plains of Hawkerf shimmered in the light night breeze. An unnatural one at that. Aside from the freak heavy rain which plagued the Union Core-Border world, rain was lacking. At all times, save for even the slightest atmospheric-ion disturbance. It kept Fort Hawkerf's night watch busy, a natural alarm which gave them such apparently unnaturally keen time-keeping skills when supply frigates came in.
Because this new arrival had come in from the planet's dark segment and had taken landing upon a natural clearing in the grass, there would be an hour before the base caught wind of an unscheduled shipment - or a landing of any kind. One hour. Sixty minutes. The Nebula Ghosts had achieved much more in even tighter windows of oppertunity. This was unlike any operation, though: this would be the first strike; an act of war which would be felt across the Universal Union Core worlds. After this, they would cease to exist along with the petty, up-and-coming Nebulae Pirata.
"Looks like a cakewalk." A figure stood on the hill-line overlooking the base, beneath the gathering storm. He was clad in dull, scratched ACU-coloured armour, overworn with leaf-green tatters, a hood and a metal mask. The gun which hung by his side was unusual and archaic in this world. It was a cross between a handgun and a bullpup rifle, with a foregrip and solid carbon stock. As unique as this design looked, nothing changed the fact that it was a cold steel sidearm.
"This isn't some commerce station, Katarn. We're blitzing Overwatch, not half-bit coppers."
"Oh yeah? Come on, Fletch, look at 'em." A second, similarly clothed bandit climbed the rest of the way up the bluff and joined his comrade in looking at the outpost.
Fort Hawkerf was considered the pinnacle of state-security, a Citadel in all the right meaning of the word. It consisted of three, obsidiite plaited tiers, the Walls, the Yard and the Tower. The Walls housed the guards and their families in prefab shelters and within the defences themselves, the Yard acted as overseer to the Walls. Within the Tower was something few knew of, secrets worth keeping and a prize to any pirate.
Of course, this was a Border world. Nothing ever happened here and the guards on the Walls knew it. Spotlights were shuttered, the sensor relays were shut down and there appeared to be a general break.
"Hate to say it, Katarn, but you're right."
"Our orders still stand then?" A brief moment of silence passed. "Fletch, there's no way we can attack that thing on full alert. I mean, it looks fine right now, but-"
"Our orders still stand. You worry too much: alert or not, they'll think it's a sod-up, what makes you think they'll suspect an attack this far in?" A drop of water fell past Fletch's face and burst on one of his boots. A thin film of cloud was drifting past the first of the two moons, bringing rain with it.
"I knew we came in too hot. Damn it. Fletch, get 'em ready: we warp in one." As the first ion bolt crashed in the darkness, the two men were gone like ghosts.
To be continued.
Beneath a pair of twin moons, one of the many grassy plains of Hawkerf shimmered in the light night breeze. An unnatural one at that. Aside from the freak heavy rain which plagued the Union Core-Border world, rain was lacking. At all times, save for even the slightest atmospheric-ion disturbance. It kept Fort Hawkerf's night watch busy, a natural alarm which gave them such apparently unnaturally keen time-keeping skills when supply frigates came in.
Because this new arrival had come in from the planet's dark segment and had taken landing upon a natural clearing in the grass, there would be an hour before the base caught wind of an unscheduled shipment - or a landing of any kind. One hour. Sixty minutes. The Nebula Ghosts had achieved much more in even tighter windows of oppertunity. This was unlike any operation, though: this would be the first strike; an act of war which would be felt across the Universal Union Core worlds. After this, they would cease to exist along with the petty, up-and-coming Nebulae Pirata.
"Looks like a cakewalk." A figure stood on the hill-line overlooking the base, beneath the gathering storm. He was clad in dull, scratched ACU-coloured armour, overworn with leaf-green tatters, a hood and a metal mask. The gun which hung by his side was unusual and archaic in this world. It was a cross between a handgun and a bullpup rifle, with a foregrip and solid carbon stock. As unique as this design looked, nothing changed the fact that it was a cold steel sidearm.
"This isn't some commerce station, Katarn. We're blitzing Overwatch, not half-bit coppers."
"Oh yeah? Come on, Fletch, look at 'em." A second, similarly clothed bandit climbed the rest of the way up the bluff and joined his comrade in looking at the outpost.
Fort Hawkerf was considered the pinnacle of state-security, a Citadel in all the right meaning of the word. It consisted of three, obsidiite plaited tiers, the Walls, the Yard and the Tower. The Walls housed the guards and their families in prefab shelters and within the defences themselves, the Yard acted as overseer to the Walls. Within the Tower was something few knew of, secrets worth keeping and a prize to any pirate.
Of course, this was a Border world. Nothing ever happened here and the guards on the Walls knew it. Spotlights were shuttered, the sensor relays were shut down and there appeared to be a general break.
"Hate to say it, Katarn, but you're right."
"Our orders still stand then?" A brief moment of silence passed. "Fletch, there's no way we can attack that thing on full alert. I mean, it looks fine right now, but-"
"Our orders still stand. You worry too much: alert or not, they'll think it's a sod-up, what makes you think they'll suspect an attack this far in?" A drop of water fell past Fletch's face and burst on one of his boots. A thin film of cloud was drifting past the first of the two moons, bringing rain with it.
"I knew we came in too hot. Damn it. Fletch, get 'em ready: we warp in one." As the first ion bolt crashed in the darkness, the two men were gone like ghosts.
To be continued.
