Board Thread:Archive/@comment-24866242-20140520223205

Subj: No Fanfare Date: 8/24/97 9:49:07 PM From: SallyPayne

Durin da course of da last couple weeks she had spent most of her time gettin stuff pulled together. Catalog parts? Not a chance. She knew exactly what she had. As well it's class, modification ability, etc. She didn't even go da route of utilizing the max range portable laptop that she had acquired. If der was one thing she hated it was paper trails.

Paper trails were just dat. Paper trails. Somethin that could be followed if someone were ta take a notion ta do so. At that thought dark blue eyes drifted ta the papers dat still needed ta be filled out and returned ta Ryan. In triplicate no less. Later, once she was ready ta clear out.

Tabby's Luck, the Runner, and the '43 Indian, had already been transported to their destination. No one moved to stop her even though it was obvious ta anyone that she was haulin arse outta this one way ticket ta hell.

Ghanste had spent the better part of one afternoon watching the coming's and goings. As had Cam. She certainly wasn't takin nuttin dat weren't already her possession. A dark smile curled her lip as dark eyes turned toward where one of the security camera's that was trained in her direction. Lifted her hand in a single fingered salute against the rim of her Stetson before turning back ta the last few items that needed ta be loaded.

Her bay stood empty except fer one thing. Par for course, it was hulking, nondescript, just like everything else she drove, rode or piloted. And it was loaded, top ta bottom, with securely packed crates. Any hazardous or bio materials were properly contained and sealed and lashed in place. She wondered absently what Ben would have done had he been aware of half the stuff she had garnered in her time with the Doombringers. As well the fact that had it ever let loose, there wouldn't have been much left of the canyon in which the base stood.

There were only two things that stood in the front seat of the transport vehicle. One was the carrier that held one *very* upset, howling, scraggly, ol' tom cat. Hooterman T. Mudflap hated moves. The second, the portable laptop. The back of the large truck was locked and sealed. Virtually tamper proof. And if anyone did make the sad mistake of tamperin wid it they would find themselves short a few digits.

She moved toward the empty crate that stood in the corner. Grabbing the papers from it. Dark blue eyes drifted over the check this's, circle that's, a's, b's and c's. She picked up from the crate one of them large red magic markers. Across the front of form 1025-A-3D-79 (Status Form) Doombringers Mech Unit, she scrawled in big, bloody red letters, RETIRED!

She tossed the marker inta the corner of the near deserted bay. Lay the now completed form (at least completed by her standard) back on the crate. Turning, dark blue eyes circled around the bay. Her quarters were already empty. So now it was just a case of shuffle on out. Her gaze drifted narrowly over a few of the newer recruits that had come on since Ryan had taken over the high command seat. With the departure of Ben, Kat, Ryax, and the other's, it seemed the quality of recruitment was also dropping.

With a slow shake of her head she turned back to the transport. Opening the drivers door and climbed up to the drivers seat. As the motor turned over and caught large clouds of thick, black exhaust rose from the twin stacks. A minor grinding of gears and she backed out of the bay, cutting the wheel sharply to the right. Once clear of the bay, and in the traveled lanes she again shifted through the gears. She flashed the halogen lights once and the door slowly drew up.

She drove through, and out onto the packed path that would take her outta the Doomlands. Once she was about 15 miles from the base she flipped open the portable laptop. A dark grin curled her lips. There were certain advantages to having been the Communications Officer of the Doombringers. Dark blue eyes darted between the road ahead of her and the liquid screen of the portable. Her fingers quickly tapped out her access code, bringing up an odd looking graphic on the screen. It was a picture of some fat orange striped cat, and he appeared to be downing the contents of a large pan of pasta. With a cold smile of satisfaction the typed out the code phrase. GARFIELD!

With an instantaneous link by satellite she was connected to the DB communications main frame. That following through to the mainlink system. Her personnel file was immediately altered.

Status: INACTIVE - RETIRED

Occupation: Retired - Current occupation undisclosed.

And as the task completed the autolink closed. And the DB communications shut down. Leaving what had been the office of Sally Payne a dark, locked void.

Within the cab of the lumbering vehicle dark laughter rolled from the cracked open window. With a flick of her wrist the automated sound system configured into the dash sprang to life. Credence Clearwater Revival rose at peak volume, just a tad louder then the howling feline in the carrier.

Subj: No Sad Goodbyes Date: 8/24/97 8:14:07 PM From: KatrylleM

No light shone in the room. Not even the light from the hallways dare invade the sanctuary through the slit under the doors. Silently, the lone figure sat in the window seat, acompanied only by the billions of stars she gazed upon. The planet she had called home for almost two years had shrunken out of sight hours before, yet still she watched the place it had filled in the vid-screen turned window.

Several had called her fool, most believed she was not of her right mind. Only one had known that, for the first time in two years, she was truely happy. Her actions produced no regrets, only hope for the future. She would miss none.

The soft hiss of the door finally admitted the light from the hall and caused a soft smile to form on her lips. He did not say a word, merely stepped up behind her and slipped his arms gently around her neck. Sighing softly, she placed her hands over his arms and layed her head back against his stomach. She did not need to see who was behind her. The very fiber of her being had become whole the moment the door to Heaven had opened.

They had taken everything that had belonged to them, and some things that didn't. Now, in the silence of the rooms that had been the house they had built together on a mountain in the Doomlands, they watched the stars that would lead them to their destiny.

He had surprised her two days before. Somehow, some way, he had ordered that Heaven, their house in the Doomlands, be dismantled and reconstructed within the bowels of the Vextis. Only the foundation remained on RhyDin. Along with the house, he had also transported all of her cars as well as the horses to the hold of the ship, adding them to her two mechs and the starfighter "NightHawk" that she had "aquired" from the DoomBringer's. His thoughtfulness had sealed the door on her ever returning to RhyDin and, again, she had no regrets.

Softly, a thumb reaching up to caress her cheek even as his warm breath caressed her ear. "Too bad we can't damn th' whole universe an' stay right 'ere...like this ferever."

Her quiet chuckle filled the room as she shifted, turning in his arms to face him, wrapping her own arms around his waist. Lightly, she brushed his lips with hers, murmering against them before deeping the kiss. "This *is* our universe.....th' rest is jist fer amusement, love......"

Story: Leaving the DBs. Chomja Kajat posted August 03, 1998 04:47 PM

Jim Kochanski was intent on the engine status monitor in the small control cabin of the 'Fang so he wasn't really paying attention to what Chomja was doing, but it was hard to ignore the fact that the wookiee was there. For one thing the guy was huge. Downright gigantic. An eight foot tall long haired wookiee was hard to ignore.

Chomja was flying them on their way to AMB, their first stop on the road out of the star system and on to a life of hauling freight and a little smuggling on the side for kicks. Jim had decided to stay on with the big guy even though he had first taken the job to try and get his foot in the door with the Doom Bringers. To tell the truth, Jim had never even gotten the chance to work with any of the other DBs. The engineering crews were mortified that Chomja had contracted a private tech for his transport instead of letting them tinker with the puppy so they avoided him like the plague. Plus he had been so busy at Pallance station after they moved the 'Fang that he never really had a chance to get to know anyone else in the unit. Just as well, Jim supposed. He'd actually gotten to like the big ape pretty well so when Chomja decided that the heat was off after whatever stunt had set him to hiding out with the DBs Jim went with him.

"We're approaching Nash Station." Chomja announced in Wookiee. Out the front windows of the cockpit a tiny shining speck was visible in orbit of one of Rhydin's moons. The redish brown astral body was fairly inhospitable but it had a breathable atmosphere. That was more than could be said for some of the other moon's Jim had visited.

"Be nice to thruster four," Jim told Chomja. "It's being held together with spit and bailing wire at this point. If it goes out we're down to seven maneuvering thrusters until we can get a replacement."

Chomja grunted his agreement as the moon grew in the front windows. "Breaking for entry into orbit," Chomja told him.

"Nash Station, this is the Cargo Transport Wookiee's Fang requesting clearance to land in a type three hanger." Jim said, getting on the comm. They had decided when they left that Jim should do all of the talking for the two of them. Most people knew English. Not many knew Wookiee.

"This is Nash Station control. You're cleared to dock at hanger fifteen. Make one standard orbit of the moon before starting your approach."

"Very much obliged, Nash Station, very much obliged." Jim clicked the comm system off with a flick of his wrist and turned to Chomja. "You heard the man. One orbit and then we dock."

"Good," Chomja nodded. "The sooner we land and get refueled the sooner we can leave."

"You're not looking forward to a long stay at this place?"

"The sooner we're away from Rhydin the better."

Chomja Kajat posted August 10, 1998 05:55 PM

Hanger fifteen was a private hanger on the docking ring. It was just big enough for the 'Fang to land in and that was about it.

Jim was the first one out of his seat. "I'm gonna get started," he told Chomja. "We shouldn't be here for more than an hour." He didn't wait long enough to hear the wookiee's grunted reply. He was already down the short corridor to the hatch and down the gangplank to the hanger floor practically before it had finished lowering.

The hanger was a little smaller than the one they had been keeping the ship in. Pallance station had been a tech's dream. There was a machine shop and all of the heavy equipment anyone could want right at his fingertips. And all of it was set right into an ancient man-made cavern constructed by whom only God knew for sure.

This hanger, on the other hand, was sterile. Metallic. It was nothing more than a simple loading and refueling bay. No maintenance equipment at all. There were maintenance bays on the space station but this wasn't one of them. Jim supposed he could get used to it eventually if this were to become their new homeport, but it didn't have the homieness that he'd begun to associate with the lonely Pallance Station. Good thing that it wasn't their new homeport then.

Chomja appeared on the gangplank a few minutes later wearing a New York Yankee's ball cap and a bag slung over his shoulder. What Chomja didn't wear in clothes he made up in hats. Jim had peeked in the closet in Chomja's bunkroom once to find that it was full of them. Brown hats, green hats, fedoras, derbies, baseball hats... There was even a ten gallon cowboy hat! Jim had never seen the wookiee wear that one, but he was sure that if he stuck around long enough he would. Chomja wore a different hat every day and his collection only seemed to grow.

As Chomja strode down the gangplank a small brown Benji dog skittered into view and slid down after him. Not only did the little dog have almost the same kind of fur as Chomja but he also shared the same love of fruit. He would eat tomato slices as if they were slices of ham.

"I'm heading up to Opps. I'm going to use the computer to see if I can track down any of my old contacts," Chomja announced in his own language. Jim and Chomja had an interesting way of communicating. Neither could speak the other's language but each understood the other fluently.

"Okay," Jim said in English. "I'll be here when you get back."

The crew in operations was just two people. Kenny Silver and Ron Logan were the night shift, not that there really was a night shift. The ships that came through the station didn't keep any particular schedule. The asked permission to dock and Kenny and Ron said yeah, sure, dock over here or over there. Nash station had a crew of thirty that worked around the clock in three shifts. There were only five people on the night shift and Kenny and Ron had been the unlucky ones to pull opps duty that night. The other three were circulating through the docking ring, inspecting cargos and collecting docking fees. The station wasn't responsible for collecting tariffs. That would be done on Rhydin at Star's End. Even so, they did do a preliminary inspection for a small fee on the behest of the Star's End Port Authority. Mainly inspecting for contaminants or potentially harmful plants or animals.

"At least if we were down inspecting cargo we'd have something to do. Routing incoming ships to the best dock is incredibly boring," Ron insisted.

"I- I don't mind," Kenny said. "Gives you time to think."

"I've done all the thinking I care to do for the next ten years." Ron leaned back in his seat, letting Kenny take the brunt of the incoming transmissions. "Besides, at least then I wouldn't be stuck up here with you."

Kenny didn't defend himself against the suggestion that his company was less than stimulating. Maybe he believed it himself. "Nash Station to The Praetor's Bounty, slow your aproach speed to four hundred kph relative and dock at airlock seven."

"Holly muthah o... Take a look at tall dark and ugly over there..." Ron said as Kenny closed the connection with the Praetor's Bounty.

Kenny turned to see the tall furry figure that had just stepped through the doors to the command center. "Oh wow... You know what that is? Th- that's a wookiee."

"I know that, duffus. But who is he?"

"I bet he came in on that transport that docked a few minutes ago. The Wookiee's Fang. But he shouldn't be in here."

"You gonna tell him ta' leave?" Ron asked mockingly.

Kenny stood up and started walking toward the wookiee.

"What are you doing, you idiot?" Ron hissed, "I didn't mean you should actually do it!"

The wookiee was looking right at Kenny now. It was too late to turn back now.

"Excuse me, sir... " Kenny started. The wookiee looked at him and waited for him to finish. "Y- you shouldn't be here. Ship crews are asked to keep to the docking ring or the visitors area in the core."

The wookiee didn't say anything but there was a palm scanner on a computer console next to the door. The wookiee put his left hand on it and waited while the computer scanned him.

"Recognize Chomja Kajat, Captain of The Wookiee's Fang, Logistics officer of the Doom Bringers Mercenary Unit, holds level three clearance to the computer resources on Nash Station."

Kenny's jaw dropped.

Ron, who had somehow managed to get right behind Kenny, whispered, "That's the same level of clearance that Jackson has."

Chris Jackson was the acting commander of the station under Ben Stinel, but Stinel was the guy that paid the bills. In any case Jackson was away on personal business and it didn't look like he was coming back. With level three clearance Chomja was practically the guy in charge.

The wookiee grunted something in an incomprehensible language and the computer chirped its agreement before saying something back in the same language.

"Computer, what was that all about?"

"Captain Kajat inserted a correction into his file stating that he no longer works with the Doom Bringers."

"Oh." Kenny said. "Sir," this time directed to Chomja, "is there anything I can help you with?"

Chomja shook his head and waved them away before sitting at a computer terminal along the wall and calling up whatever information he was looking for.

Story: Final Thoughts Katrylle Morgahn posted June 06, 1998 06:28 PM

Subj: Final Thoughts Date: 8/25/97 7:46:00 AM From: JdeFalconr A letter adressed to Katrylle Morgahn, which somehow found its way up to the Vextis


 * Kat-
 * Things are going to get busy in the weeks ahead and I thought this would be the easiest way to tell you. I will not be joining you on the Vextis after all. I have decided that my destiny lies with the DoomBringers, not among the stars. It will take work to reform the unit, along with leadership and some people who are willing to stand firm with their duty, no matter what comes their way. Who knows...perhaps Jer and I will go off somewhere and re-establish the Striped Falcons. I do not know what destiny holds for me.
 * Anyway, I wanted to thank you for standing with me always as a friend and a commander. Perhaps someday my path will again cross with the crew of the starship Vextis. Besides...I still owe you one for the first night we met.
 * James Icaza,
 * DoomBringers 'Mech Unit

Subj: Re:Final Thoughts Date: 8/25/97 3:24:17 PM From: KatrylleM

On the Vextis, Kat read the letter with a mixture of minor emotions. The first was annoyance at his vague dig at her concerning "standing firm with their duty, no matter what comes their way." But that passed easily. He hadn't been part of the mess. He didn't know what had been done. As with most preachers, he was merely spouting from the heart, not from a complete understanding. Besides, she had long ago given up on caring what any of them had thought of her.

The next emotion was sarcasm as the next sentence of his message spoke of the possible abandonment of the DB's by none other than himself. So much for loyalty, she thought with a dry chuckle.

The chuckle soon turned into an all out laugh. She remembered the first night they had met as well as the next. He had wanted to kill her the moment she met him only, from what he said later, because she was a "free birth". He hadn't attacked her physically, but she could feel the desire for harm none the less. Worse part was, she was actually *trying* to be nice that night. Lord, she was glad Ben hadn't been around. It was one of the many nights she wanted *him* locked away for insanity. Only Ben would have put his least sociable person in as recruitment officer and the night she met Preacher only proved, in her mind anyway, that Ben had completely lost the ability for rational thinking.

The second night was great comic relief. Preacher had discovered who she was and that she belonged with the Doom Bringers. Apparently, to this day, the apologies were still forthcoming. She chuckled as she remembered that it was also the night he received his nickname from her.....Preacher. She couldn't remember the entire conversation. She hadn't paid attention to most of it as it concerned Clans and their ways. But *SAINTS* how he loved to go on.....and on....and on......and *on*..... She hadn't been in much of a mood to deal with him that night, let alone listen to him, so, by way of an insult, she had called him the Preacher. It stuck and to her complete amazement, he actually enjoyed it. She had merely shook her head and walked away muttering something about him having less brains than she thought. But, he was a Doom Bringer, and, at the time, that was all it took for her to "accept" him. She doubted she would ever fully trust him, but at least she wouldn't shoot him on sight either.

She blinked, realizing she had drifted into deep thought once again. Paper still in hand, she made her way to the comm center of the Vextis and to Rah. He had heard her coming. He was begining to know her too well and she chuckled as she realized he had already opened a link to the DB base. Kat layed a hand on his furry, snow white shoulder as she dictated the short message meant only for the Preacher.

"Transmission received. Contradictory as usual. But I wish y'well. D'me a favor.....watch yer six. N'one else will. Perhaps another lifetime, Preacher. Kat oot."

Gently, she leaned up and kissed Rah's fuzzy cheek to thank him, giggling as she noticed the roots of his fur turning beet red. She hugged him tightly. From the moment she had met the huge furry communications officer, she felt an odd fondness for him she rarely found in others she had just met. At the moment, though, her light-hearted teasing was met with a soft growl and his deep purring voice telling her to get out of his comm center, that she was making a pest of herself. She giggled again as she turned and strode from the room, crumpling Preacher's note and tossing it in the can on her way out. 