{"data":{"id":13273,"title":"A SEPARATE LAW: PART ELEVEN","rsi_url":"https:\/\/robertsspaceindustries.com\/comm-link\/serialized-fiction\/13273-A-SEPARATE-LAW-PART-ELEVEN","api_url":"https:\/\/api.star-citizen.wiki\/api\/comm-links\/13273","api_public_url":"https:\/\/api.star-citizen.wiki\/comm-links\/13273","channel":"Undefined","category":"Undefined","series":"A Separate Law","images":[{"id":640,"name":"SeparateLawFI4.jpg","rsi_url":"https:\/\/robertsspaceindustries.com\/media\/n6ik8s2agc03ur\/source\/SeparateLawFI4.jpg","alt":"","size":1558749,"mime_type":"image\/jpeg","last_modified":"2013-07-18T19:23:20+00:00","api_url":"https:\/\/api.star-citizen.wiki\/api\/comm-link-images\/640","similar_url":"https:\/\/api.star-citizen.wiki\/api\/comm-link-images\/640\/similar"}],"images_count":1,"translations":{"en_EN":"The White Stag appeared on the edge of his passive sensor envelope. He\u2019d been on station for two days, waiting for this moment, sleep troubled with recurring images of his cockpit canopy shattering, waking hours spent fearing Les Inconnus had discovered Stroller was compromised. It took longer than it should have, but the White Stag\u2019s escorts slowly appeared, like drops of blood, on the nav plot. He went over the readings: the White Stag was a Drake Industries light passenger liner, about the size of a Navy frigate and designed to transport a better class of tourist or a party of corporate executives in speed and relative safety. She would have strong shields and excellent point defense, but almost no offensive weaponry. She was straight-line fast, and nimble for a vessel her size.\n\nAnother full minute passed before his sensors tagged the escorts as Cutlasses. With four Cutlasses along, destroying the White Stag would be impossible if his plan didn\u2019t pan out. Les Inconnus must have a contract with Drake Industries, the number of Cutlasses they field.\n\nMore minutes passed. The plot updated again, target and entourage moving in-system from the jump point. Gates sighed with relief. The White Stag\u2019s heading confirmed Stroller\u2019s information: the ship was supposed to rendezvous with another carrying the local Nexus leadership somewhere among the scattered rocks of the system\u2019s sole asteroid belt.\n\nFor now, more waiting.\n\nFour hours later, Gates adjusted position, trusting that his tags would show he was just a mining prospector. It wouldn\u2019t stand up once they took a direct read on his ship, but he had to hope they weren\u2019t likely to take a close look until it was too late.\n\nThe White Stag\u2019s skipper had other things on his mind, anyway: the system boat the local Les Inconnus bosses were using to meet their counterparts had recently arrived and was now leaving the larger vessel\u2019s grip. It took up station about 100 klicks away, presumably to await the end of the meeting. Not a combat craft, so Gates chose to ignore it, but its escorts remained with the White Stag, bringing the total to six.\n\nSweating in his flight suit, Gates continued the slow, nearly parallel approach.\n\nAn hour ground away at his nerves.\n\nThe better part of another.\n\nGates was nearly in active sensor range. Still no indication they\u2019d figured out where he was. His ship was fast approaching the point where he\u2019d have to alter course to keep closing. He\u2019d been running passive targeting solutions on the escorts for the last hour, planning to distract as many as he could, then saturate the remaining defenses with missiles while he went straight in on the liner.\n\nThat was the plan, anyway.\n\nDamn, but I never sweat this much. He cracked his neck, first one side then the other, popping vertebrae in an attempt to calm down. Get it together, Arminius! There\u2019s work to be done and no on else to do it. One clean strike to cut the head from the beast. One action to hold back the continuing tide of lawlessness and disorder. One fight, nothing beyond this moment, this trial by combat.\n\nNot wanting to give himself time to think about it, Gates grabbed his helmet and jammed it on in one nervous motion.\n\nJudging the moment, Gates triggered the simple remote. Well ahead of the White Stag, Saint Claire\u2019s Kiss ignited its drives and started accelerating at a snail\u2019s pace toward the liner. The tramp freighter hadn\u2019t been the most expensive thing Gates had purchased for this operation, but he\u2019d made sure Zhou was well-compensated. Fair was fair.\n\nThe seal between helmet and flight-suit wasn\u2019t fully closed when Gates opened the channel and started talking through the empty hauler\u2019s comms: \u201cWhite Stag, this is Captain Trevor of the Saint Claire\u2019s Kiss. We believe we have something you\u2019ll have an interest in.\u201d\n\n\u201cSaint Claire\u2019s Kiss, this is Captain Jahangir Kung, commanding White Stag\u2019s escorts.\u201d\n\nThe murdering bastard himself. Good. Gates kept the smile from his voice, \u201cDon\u2019t want to talk to you, want to talk your bosses.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot going to happen.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell then, I suppose they don\u2019t care what Gates had to say when we caught him.\u201d\n\nA delay of a few moments, then: \u201cMight be you do have something we need to discuss.\u201d\n\nThe drive signatures of four of the escorts intensified, courses set to overtake Saint Claire\u2019s Kiss.\n\nA few minutes more.\n\nGates let go of the trigger. Saint Claire\u2019s Kiss stopped adding thrust.\n\n\u201cHow did you come to be in possession of the man?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe didn\u2019t pay promptly.\u201d\n\nA barking laugh, then: \u201cYou were one of the ones hit our station?\u201d\n\n\u201cCould be. Could be I just have someone you want, for an equitable price.\u201d\n\nThe escorts were closing fast, already in missile range.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know, could be we just take your ship out with a couple missiles.\u201d\n\n\u201cSure, but then you wouldn\u2019t learn what Gates had to say about a turncoat in your organization he was using to secure intel for bounties. How do you think I knew to be here?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh?\u201d Kung asked, clearly hoping for more.\n\n\u201cNot that easy. Six hundred thousand credits and safe passage and you\u2019ll get it all: Gates, with whatever he learned about your operations.\u201d\n\nSeveral moments passed in silence, probably Kung asking his bosses for permission.\n\n\u201cAll right, I\u2019ll bite. Prepare to be boarded.\u201d\n\n\u201cJust don\u2019t try and change the terms of the deal, hear?\u201d\n\n\u201cRight, Kung out.\u201d\n\nThe four Cutlasses closed in, one preparing to dock with the ugly little freighter. Gates flipped the switch below the drive trigger on his remote.\n\nSaint Claire\u2019s Kiss, her drive, and the explosives with which Gates had packed her detonated. Kung and another of the Cutlasses disappeared into the expanding ball of ravening plasma, while the remaining two were clearly disabled, drives flickering.\n\nJust the right amount of bang for my credits, I think. Damn stuff was more expensive than Saint Claire\u2019s Kiss \u2014 gotta be sure to thank Seabrook properly!\n\nOnly two escorts remained on the White Stag, and those were distracted by the death of their commander. Satisfaction flooding him, Gates used that distraction to start launching his missiles as fast as the pods would cycle. As the final missile parted from its cradle he changed course, heading directly for the White Stag and pushing the throttle to the stops.\n\nTwo minutes to cannon range.\n\nThe closer escort turned into the missiles boring in on her, trying to narrow her sensor profile. The pilot was doing everything right, launching countermeasures even as the first of Gates\u2019 missiles, now in active tracking mode, closed.\n\nGates checked on his quarry: the White Stag was launching her own countermeasures, the captain making sure she wasn\u2019t getting hit.\n\nThe nearer Cutlass had avoided the first missile only to take the second one square on the nose. Shields dead, the first missile looped back to explode just aft of her, shredding the primary drive.\n\nIt took Gates a moment to find the other escort. When he did, he snarled.\n\nDamn smart. The Cutlass was tight alongside the White Stag, where the larger vessel could use her her point defense guns to protect the escort from Gates. First one, then another of his missiles were burned from space. But by then Gates was close enough to start hammering the larger vessel with everything he had.\n\nHe had the aft shields nearly down when his ECM suite blatted a warning. The Cutlass, looking for missile lock.\n\nHe swung the 325 into a looping spiral around the axis of his target, maintaining fire from all guns.\n\nJust a little longer.\n\nThe warning tone warbled up to a screech, a missile incoming. Fear momentarily paralyzed Gates, mind\u2019s eye replaying past battles. Each breath was suddenly as hard as sucking water from a rock.\n\nHe squeezed his eyes shut.\n\nGet out from under it, Gates! No time for this shit!\n\nHe broke free of his paralysis with a shout only he could hear. Letting up on the firing stud, Gates slammed the 325 through another roll, exiting closer to the White Stag, so close as to be almost atop the liner\u2019s shields.\n\nThe warning tone stopped abruptly as the canopy lit with a dull flare of light: the White Stag\u2019s point defense lasers boiling the deadly missile into its constituent materials.\n\n\u201cSee, two can play that game, you bastards!\u201d Gates howled into his helmet.\n\nHe cranked the 325 \u2018up\u2019 and away from the liner, started battering the bigger vessel\u2019s shields down, one eye on the Cutlass in his plot.\n\nHe began scoring hits through the shields, mass driver munitions vaporizing armor plate.\n\nThe White Stag spun along its axis, presenting fresh armor to Gates\u2019 guns. He obliged the maneuver with more fire, tagging a shield generator.\n\nThe missile lock warning returned, started to doppler up again.\n\nGates maneuvered in tight with the liner again.\n\nToo late, he realized the White Stag\u2019s point defense systems weren\u2019t firing.\n\nGood coordination, damn them!\n\nThe missile detonated off his starboard side. The explosion pounded his shields flat and vaporized the armor all along that side of the 325.\n\nGates\u2019 grin was feral: the White Stag had taken as much damage, if not more, than the 325. He inverted relative to the Cutlass, presenting his unmarked side to the escort.\n\nThe 325 shuddered, lashed by fire from the Cutlass. Ignoring it, Gates kept pouring fire into the wounded flank of the liner, blasts erupting deeper in the hull with every shot.\n\nJust a little longer.\n\nAnother pounding, another set of warning lights. Gates adjusted position, started weaving back and forth across the liner\u2019s drive nacelles, still firing steadily.\n\nThe Cutlass kept at it, as well.\n\nAn attitude thruster on the 325 disintegrated, causing a sudden slow-down in his weave. The next salvo of laser cannon fire meant for Gates lashed past and punched into the White Stag\u2019s hull.\n\nSomething finally broke inside the White Stag, a sudden stuttering of her main drives making her slide from under Gates\u2019 guns.\n\nGates sideslipped then pulled back on the stick. The Cutlass stayed with him through the upper part of the loop, started losing him at the apex. Gates tried to roll out behind his pursuer, but his remaining directional thrusters weren\u2019t up to the task: he exited alongside the Cutlass instead of behind.\n\nWary of a collision, his adversary turned away, hard. It was the wrong thing to do. The Cutlass clipped one of the White Stag\u2019s drives. The resultant explosion was shocking in its violence.\n\nA massive chunk of one of the vessels \u2014 Gates was fairly sure it was part of the Cutlass \u2013 flew free of the spherical explosion toward Gates.\n\nIn the instant before impact, Gates threw his arms up, an animal\u2019s reflex in the face of death.\n\nMetal and ceramic met metal and ceramic with a crunching finality.\n\nThe cockpit went dark; so did Gates.\n\nThe rattling quality of his own breathing brought him back. Snorting air through a broken nose. Not the first time that\u2019s happened, eh?\n\nHe blinked, tried to get his bearings. The cockpit had enough light to see drops of his own blood floating inside his helmet. It was the thick red of head-blood, already partially clotted.\n\nThoughts were sluggish: Gravity\u2019s out.\n\nNot good.\n\nLast thing to go, more often than not. If it weren\u2019t, spacers tended to make messy pancakes on the inside of their vessels.\n\nSudden fear rose up, threatened to drown him.\n\nHe let it win for a while.\n\nAt least, Gates told himself, he was letting it out.\n\nHe eventually managed to dig his medkit out and self-administer a shot of O&S.\n\nGates spent his last moments of consciousness screaming.\n\n. . . to be continued","de_DE":"Der wei\u00dfe Hirsch erschien am Rande seiner passiven Sensorh\u00fclle. Er war zwei Tage lang auf der Station gewesen und wartete auf diesen Moment, der Schlaf, der von immer wiederkehrenden Bildern seines zerbrechenden Cockpitdaches gest\u00f6rt war, die Aufwachzeit verbrachte Stunden damit, zu f\u00fcrchten, dass Les Inconnus entdeckt hatte, dass der Kinderwagen kompromittiert war. Es dauerte l\u00e4nger, als es sollte, aber die Eskorte des Wei\u00dfen Hirsches erschien langsam, wie Blutstropfen, auf dem Navi-Grundst\u00fcck. Er ging die Lesungen durch: Der White Stag war ein leichtes Passagierschiff von Drake Industries, etwa so gro\u00df wie eine Fregatte der Marine und dazu bestimmt, eine bessere Klasse von Touristen oder eine Gruppe von F\u00fchrungskr\u00e4ften in Geschwindigkeit und relativer Sicherheit zu transportieren. Sie h\u00e4tte starke Schilde und eine ausgezeichnete Punktverteidigung, aber fast keine offensiven Waffen. Sie war schnell geradlinig und wendig f\u00fcr ein Gef\u00e4\u00df ihrer Gr\u00f6\u00dfe.\n\nEine weitere volle Minute verging, bevor seine Sensoren die Eskorte als Entermesser kennzeichneten. Mit vier Entermessern entlang, w\u00e4re die Zerst\u00f6rung des wei\u00dfen Hirschen unm\u00f6glich, wenn sein Plan nicht aufgeht. Les Inconnus muss einen Vertrag mit Drake Industries haben, die Anzahl der Entermesser, die sie einsetzen.\n\nWeitere Minuten vergingen. Die Handlung wurde erneut aktualisiert, Ziel und Umgebung bewegen sich im System vom Sprungbrett aus. Tore seufzten vor Erleichterung. Der Kurs des wei\u00dfen Hirschen best\u00e4tigte die Informationen des Kinderwagens: Das Schiff sollte sich mit einem anderen treffen, der die lokale Nexus-F\u00fchrung irgendwo zwischen den verstreuten Felsen des einzigen Asteroideng\u00fcrtels des Systems tr\u00e4gt.\n\nF\u00fcrs Erste, mehr Warten.\n\nVier Stunden sp\u00e4ter stellte Gates seine Position ein und vertraute darauf, dass seine Tags zeigen w\u00fcrden, dass er nur ein Goldsucher war. Es w\u00fcrde nicht mehr aufstehen, sobald sie direkt auf seinem Schiff gelesen hatten, aber er musste hoffen, dass sie nicht eher einen genauen Blick darauf werfen w\u00fcrden, bis es zu sp\u00e4t war.\n\nDer Skipper des White Hirsches hatte sowieso noch andere Dinge im Kopf: Das Systemboot, mit dem sich die lokalen Les Inconnus-Bosse mit ihren Kollegen trafen, war k\u00fcrzlich angekommen und verlie\u00df nun den Griff des gr\u00f6\u00dferen Schiffes. Es nahm die Station etwa 100 Kilometer entfernt in Anspruch, vermutlich um auf das Ende des Treffens zu warten. Kein Kampfschiff, also ignorierte Gates es, aber seine Eskorten blieben beim Wei\u00dfen Hirsch, was die Gesamtzahl auf sechs erh\u00f6hte.\n\nGates schwitzte in seinem Fluganzug und setzte die langsame, fast parallele Ann\u00e4herung fort.\n\nEine Stunde entfernt an seinen Nerven.\n\nDer gr\u00f6\u00dfte Teil von einem anderen.\n\nGates war fast im aktiven Sensorbereich. Immer noch keine Hinweise, dass sie herausgefunden haben, wo er ist. Sein Schiff n\u00e4herte sich schnell dem Punkt, an dem er den Kurs \u00e4ndern musste, um sich weiter zu schlie\u00dfen. Er hatte die letzte Stunde passive Ziell\u00f6sungen auf den Begleitern laufen lassen, plante, so viele wie m\u00f6glich abzulenken und dann die verbleibende Verteidigung mit Raketen zu s\u00e4ttigen, w\u00e4hrend er direkt auf das Schiff ging.\n\nDas war jedenfalls der Plan.\n\nVerdammt, aber ich schwitze nie so viel. Er brach sich den Hals, zuerst eine Seite, dann die andere, und knallte Wirbel, um sich zu beruhigen. Rei\u00df dich zusammen, Arminius! Es gibt Arbeit, die getan werden muss und keine andere, die es tut. Ein sauberer Schlag, um den Kopf vom Tier zu trennen. Eine Aktion, um die anhaltende Flut von Gesetzlosigkeit und Unordnung aufzuhalten. Ein Kampf, nichts \u00fcber diesen Moment hinaus, diese Pr\u00fcfung durch den Kampf.\n\nGates wollte sich nicht die Zeit nehmen, dar\u00fcber nachzudenken, schnappte sich seinen Helm und klemmte ihn in einer nerv\u00f6sen Bewegung fest.\n\nDem Moment nach zu urteilen, l\u00f6ste Gates die einfache Fernbedienung aus. Weit vor dem Wei\u00dfen Hirsch entz\u00fcndete Saint Claire's Kiss seine Triebe und begann im Schneckentempo auf das Schiff zuzugehen. Der Trampschiff war nicht das Teuerste, was Gates f\u00fcr diese Operation gekauft hatte, aber er hatte daf\u00fcr gesorgt, dass Zhou gut entsch\u00e4digt wurde. Fair war fair.\n\nDas Siegel zwischen Helm und Fluganzug war nicht ganz geschlossen, als Gates den Kanal \u00f6ffnete und anfing, durch die Kommunikation des leeren Schleppers zu sprechen: \"White Hirsch, das ist Captain Trevor vom Saint Claire's Kiss. Wir glauben, dass wir etwas haben, das Sie interessieren wird.\"\n\n\"Saint Claire's Kuss, hier ist Captain Jahangir Kung, der die Eskorte der Wei\u00dfen Hirsche befehligt.\"\n\nDer mordende Bastard selbst. Gut. Gates hielt das L\u00e4cheln von seiner Stimme fern: \"Ich will nicht mit dir reden, ich will mit deinen Vorgesetzten reden.\"\n\n\"Das wird nicht passieren.\"\n\n\"Nun, dann ist es ihnen wohl egal, was Gates zu sagen hatte, als wir ihn erwischten.\"\n\nDann eine Verz\u00f6gerung von ein paar Augenblicken: \"Vielleicht hast du ja etwas, das wir besprechen m\u00fcssen.\"\n\nDie Antriebssignaturen von vier der Escorts wurden intensiviert, die Kurse sollten den Kuss von Saint Claire \u00fcberholen.\n\nNoch ein paar Minuten.\n\nTore lassen den Abzug los. Saint Claire's Kiss h\u00f6rte auf, Schub zu geben.\n\n\"Wie bist du in den Besitz des Mannes gekommen?\"\n\n\"Er hat nicht sofort bezahlt.\"\n\nDann ein bellender Lacher: \"Du warst einer von denen, die unsere Station getroffen haben?\"\n\n\"K\u00f6nnte sein. K\u00f6nnte sein, dass ich einfach jemanden habe, den du willst, zu einem fairen Preis.\"\n\nDie Eskorten n\u00e4herten sich schnell, bereits in Raketenreichweite.\n\n\"Ich wei\u00df nicht, k\u00f6nnten wir einfach dein Schiff mit ein paar Raketen rausbringen.\"\n\n\"Sicher, aber dann w\u00fcrden Sie nicht erfahren, was Gates \u00fcber einen Verr\u00e4ter in Ihrer Organisation zu sagen hatte, den er benutzte, um Informationen f\u00fcr Bounties zu erhalten. Was glaubst du, woher ich wusste, dass ich hier bin?\"\n\n\" Oh?\" fragte Kung und hoffte eindeutig auf mehr.\n\n\"Nicht so einfach. Sechshunderttausend Credits und eine sichere Passage und du bekommst alles: Gates, mit allem, was er \u00fcber deine Operationen erfahren hat.\"\n\nEinige Momente vergingen schweigend, wahrscheinlich bat Kung seine Chefs um Erlaubnis.\n\n\"In Ordnung, ich werde bei\u00dfen. Bereiten Sie sich darauf vor, geentert zu werden.\"\n\n\"Versuch einfach nicht, die Bedingungen des Deals zu \u00e4ndern, okay?\"\n\n\"Richtig, Kung out.\"\n\nDie vier Entermesser schlossen sich an, eine davon bereit, an den h\u00e4sslichen kleinen Frachter anzudocken. Gates dr\u00fcckte den Schalter unter dem Antriebsausl\u00f6ser seiner Fernbedienung.\n\nSaint Claire's Kiss, ihr Antrieb und der Sprengstoff, mit dem Gates sie gepackt hatte, detonierten. Kung und ein weiterer der Entermesser verschwanden in der sich ausdehnenden Kugel des Ravening-Plasmas, w\u00e4hrend die restlichen beiden eindeutig deaktiviert waren, flackerten die Laufwerke.\n\nGenau die richtige Menge an Knall f\u00fcr meine Credits, denke ich. Das verdammte Zeug war teurer als Saint Claire's Kiss - man muss sicher sein, Seabrook richtig zu danken!\n\nNur zwei Eskorten blieben auf dem wei\u00dfen Hirsch \u00fcbrig, und diese waren durch den Tod ihres Kommandanten abgelenkt. Zufriedene Menschen \u00fcberfluteten ihn, Gates nutzte diese Ablenkung, um seine Raketen so schnell zu starten, wie die H\u00fclsen es tun w\u00fcrden. Als sich die letzte Rakete von ihrer Wiege l\u00f6ste, \u00e4nderte er den Kurs, ging direkt auf den wei\u00dfen Hirsch zu und dr\u00fcckte das Gas bis zum Anschlag.\n\nZwei Minuten bis zur Kanonenreichweite.\n\nDie n\u00e4here Eskorte verwandelte sich in die Raketen, die sich in sie bohrten und versuchten, ihr Sensorprofil zu verengen. Der Pilot tat alles richtig und startete Gegenma\u00dfnahmen, selbst als die erste von Gates' Raketen, die sich jetzt im aktiven Tracking-Modus befindet, geschlossen wurde.\n\nTore \u00fcberpr\u00fcften seinen Steinbruch: Der wei\u00dfe Hirsch startete ihre eigenen Gegenma\u00dfnahmen, der Kapit\u00e4n stellte sicher, dass sie nicht getroffen wurde.\n\nDer n\u00e4here Entermesser hatte die erste Rakete vermieden, nur um den zweiten Winkel auf die Nase zu nehmen. Schilde sind tot, die erste Rakete ist zur\u00fcckgeschleift, um direkt hinter ihr zu explodieren und den Prim\u00e4rantrieb zu zerfetzen.\n\nGates brauchte einen Moment, um die andere Eskorte zu finden. Als er es tat, knurrte er.\n\nVerdammt schlau. Das Entermesser war dicht neben dem wei\u00dfen Hirsch, wo das gr\u00f6\u00dfere Schiff ihre Verteidigungswaffen benutzen konnte, um die Eskorte vor Toren zu sch\u00fctzen. Zuerst wurde eine, dann eine weitere seiner Raketen aus dem All abgefeuert. Aber bis dahin war Gates nah genug dran, um das gr\u00f6\u00dfere Schiff mit allem, was er hatte, zu schlagen.\n\nEr hatte die Heckschilde fast unten, als seine ECM-Suite eine Warnung schlug. Der Entermesser, der nach einem Raketenschloss sucht.\n\nEr schwang den 325 in eine Schleifenspirale um die Achse seines Ziels und hielt das Feuer aller Gesch\u00fctze aufrecht.\n\nNur noch ein bisschen l\u00e4nger.\n\nDer Warnton tr\u00e4llerte zu einem Kreischen, eine Rakete n\u00e4herte sich. Angst vor vor\u00fcbergehend gel\u00e4hmten Toren, Gedankenaugen, die vergangene Schlachten nachspielen. Jeder Atemzug war pl\u00f6tzlich so hart wie das Saugen von Wasser aus einem Felsen.\n\nEr dr\u00fcckte die Augen zu.\n\nRaus aus dem Keller, Gates! Keine Zeit f\u00fcr diesen Schei\u00df!\n\nEr befreite sich von seiner L\u00e4hmung mit einem Schrei, den nur er h\u00f6ren konnte. Gates lie\u00df den Schie\u00dfbolzen los und schlug die 325 durch eine weitere Rolle, die n\u00e4her am wei\u00dfen Hirsch ausging, so nah, dass sie fast auf den Schilden des Liners lag.\n\nDer Warnton h\u00f6rte abrupt auf, als die Haube mit einem dumpfen Lichtblitz leuchtete: Die Punktverteidigungslaser des Wei\u00dfhirschen kochen die t\u00f6dliche Rakete in ihre Bestandteile.\n\n\"Seht ihr, zwei k\u00f6nnen das Spiel spielen, ihr Bastarde!\" Gates heulte in seinen Helm.\n\nEr kurbelte die 325 nach oben und weg vom Liner, fing an, die Schilde des gr\u00f6\u00dferen Schiffes nach unten zu schlagen, ein Auge auf das Entermesser in seinem Plan.\n\nEr fing an, Treffer durch die Schilde zu erzielen, Massenfahrer-Munition, die die R\u00fcstungsplatte verdampfen lie\u00df.\n\nDer wei\u00dfe Hirsch drehte sich um seine Achse und pr\u00e4sentierte Gates' Waffen eine neue R\u00fcstung. Er zwang das Man\u00f6ver mit mehr Feuer und markierte einen Schildgenerator.\n\nDie Raketensperrwarnung kehrte zur\u00fcck, begann wieder zu doppeln.\n\nDie Tore man\u00f6vrierten wieder eng mit dem Liner.\n\nZu sp\u00e4t erkannte er, dass die Verteidigungssysteme des wei\u00dfen Hirsches nicht feuerten.\n\nGute Koordination, verdammt!\n\nDie Rakete detonierte von seiner Steuerbordseite. Die Explosion schlug seine Schilde flach und verdampfte die R\u00fcstung entlang dieser Seite des 325.\n\nDas Grinsen von Gates war wild: Der wei\u00dfe Hirsch hatte so viel Schaden, wenn nicht sogar mehr erlitten wie der 325. Er drehte sich gegen\u00fcber dem Entermesser um und pr\u00e4sentierte der Eskorte seine unmarkierte Seite.\n\nDie 325 schauderte, vom Feuer des Entermessers gepeitscht. Gates ignorierte es und goss immer wieder Feuer in die verwundete Flanke des Liners, wobei bei jedem Schuss Explosionen tiefer in den Rumpf ausbrachen.\n\nNur noch ein bisschen l\u00e4nger.\n\nNoch ein Schlagen, noch ein Satz Warnlichter. Die Tore passten sich der Position an, begannen, \u00fcber die Antriebsgondeln des Liners hin und her zu weben und feuerten immer noch gleichm\u00e4\u00dfig.\n\nDer Entermesser blieb auch dabei.\n\nEin Haltungsschub auf der 325 l\u00f6ste sich auf, was zu einer pl\u00f6tzlichen Verlangsamung seiner Webart f\u00fchrte. Die n\u00e4chste Salve des Laserkanonenfeuers bedeutete f\u00fcr Gates, die vorbeigeschlagen und in den Rumpf des wei\u00dfen Hirschen geschlagen wurden.\n\nEtwas brach schlie\u00dflich im Inneren des White Hirsches aus, ein pl\u00f6tzliches Stottern ihrer Hauptantriebe, das sie unter Gates' Gewehren davonrutschen lie\u00df.\n\nDie Tore sind seitw\u00e4rts gerutscht und dann am Stock zur\u00fcckgezogen. Der Entermesser blieb bei ihm durch den oberen Teil der Schleife, begann ihn an der Spitze zu verlieren. Gates versuchte, hinter seinem Verfolger auszulaufen, aber seine verbleibenden Richtstrahltriebwerke waren der Aufgabe nicht gewachsen: Er trat neben dem Entermesser aus und nicht hinter ihm.\n\nAuf der Hut vor einer Kollision drehte sich sein Gegner um, hart. Es war falsch, das zu tun. Das Entermesser hat einen der Antriebe des wei\u00dfen Hirsches abgeschnitten. Die daraus resultierende Explosion war schockierend in ihrer Gewalt.\n\nEin massiver Teil eines der Schiffe - Gates war sich ziemlich sicher, dass es Teil des Entermessers war - flog frei von der sph\u00e4rischen Explosion in Richtung Gates.\n\nIn dem Moment vor dem Aufprall warf Gates seine Arme hoch, der Reflex eines Tieres angesichts des Todes.\n\nMetall und Keramik trafen auf Metall und Keramik mit einer knackenden Endg\u00fcltigkeit.\n\nDas Cockpit wurde dunkel, ebenso wie Gates.\n\nDas Klappern seiner eigenen Atmung brachte ihn zur\u00fcck. Schnarchende Luft durch eine gebrochene Nase. Nicht das erste Mal, dass das passiert ist, oder?\n\nEr blinzelte, versuchte sich zu orientieren. Das Cockpit hatte genug Licht, um Tropfen seines eigenen Blutes in seinem Helm schwimmen zu sehen. Es war das dicke Rot des Kopfblutes, das bereits teilweise geronnen war.\n\nDie Gedanken waren tr\u00e4ge: Die Schwerkraft ist weg.\n\nNicht gut.\n\nDas Letzte, was man tun kann, meistens. Wenn nicht, neigten die Abstandshalter dazu, schmutzige Pfannkuchen auf der Innenseite ihrer Gef\u00e4\u00dfe herzustellen.\n\nPl\u00f6tzlich erhob sich die Angst, drohte, ihn zu ertr\u00e4nken.\n\nEr lie\u00df es f\u00fcr eine Weile gewinnen.\n\nZumindest sagte sich Gates, er habe es herausgelassen.\n\nSchlie\u00dflich schaffte er es, sein Medkit auszuheben und sich selbst einen Schuss O&S zu verabreichen.\n\nGates verbrachte seine letzten Momente des Bewusstseins schreiend.\n\n. ... wird fortgesetzt","zh_CN":"The White Stag appeared on the edge of his passive sensor envelope. He\u2019d been on station for two days, waiting for this moment, sleep troubled with recurring images of his cockpit canopy shattering, waking hours spent fearing Les Inconnus had discovered Stroller was compromised. It took longer than it should have, but the White Stag\u2019s escorts slowly appeared, like drops of blood, on the nav plot. He went over the readings: the White Stag was a Drake Industries light passenger liner, about the size of a Navy frigate and designed to transport a better class of tourist or a party of corporate executives in speed and relative safety. She would have strong shields and excellent point defense, but almost no offensive weaponry. She was straight-line fast, and nimble for a vessel her size.\n\nAnother full minute passed before his sensors tagged the escorts as Cutlasses. With four Cutlasses along, destroying the White Stag would be impossible if his plan didn\u2019t pan out. Les Inconnus must have a contract with Drake Industries, the number of Cutlasses they field.\n\nMore minutes passed. The plot updated again, target and entourage moving in-system from the jump point. Gates sighed with relief. The White Stag\u2019s heading confirmed Stroller\u2019s information: the ship was supposed to rendezvous with another carrying the local Nexus leadership somewhere among the scattered rocks of the system\u2019s sole asteroid belt.\n\nFor now, more waiting.\n\nFour hours later, Gates adjusted position, trusting that his tags would show he was just a mining prospector. It wouldn\u2019t stand up once they took a direct read on his ship, but he had to hope they weren\u2019t likely to take a close look until it was too late.\n\nThe White Stag\u2019s skipper had other things on his mind, anyway: the system boat the local Les Inconnus bosses were using to meet their counterparts had recently arrived and was now leaving the larger vessel\u2019s grip. It took up station about 100 klicks away, presumably to await the end of the meeting. Not a combat craft, so Gates chose to ignore it, but its escorts remained with the White Stag, bringing the total to six.\n\nSweating in his flight suit, Gates continued the slow, nearly parallel approach.\n\nAn hour ground away at his nerves.\n\nThe better part of another.\n\nGates was nearly in active sensor range. Still no indication they\u2019d figured out where he was. His ship was fast approaching the point where he\u2019d have to alter course to keep closing. He\u2019d been running passive targeting solutions on the escorts for the last hour, planning to distract as many as he could, then saturate the remaining defenses with missiles while he went straight in on the liner.\n\nThat was the plan, anyway.\n\nDamn, but I never sweat this much. He cracked his neck, first one side then the other, popping vertebrae in an attempt to calm down. Get it together, Arminius! There\u2019s work to be done and no on else to do it. One clean strike to cut the head from the beast. One action to hold back the continuing tide of lawlessness and disorder. One fight, nothing beyond this moment, this trial by combat.\n\nNot wanting to give himself time to think about it, Gates grabbed his helmet and jammed it on in one nervous motion.\n\nJudging the moment, Gates triggered the simple remote. Well ahead of the White Stag, Saint Claire\u2019s Kiss ignited its drives and started accelerating at a snail\u2019s pace toward the liner. The tramp freighter hadn\u2019t been the most expensive thing Gates had purchased for this operation, but he\u2019d made sure Zhou was well-compensated. Fair was fair.\n\nThe seal between helmet and flight-suit wasn\u2019t fully closed when Gates opened the channel and started talking through the empty hauler\u2019s comms: \u201cWhite Stag, this is Captain Trevor of the Saint Claire\u2019s Kiss. We believe we have something you\u2019ll have an interest in.\u201d\n\n\u201cSaint Claire\u2019s Kiss, this is Captain Jahangir Kung, commanding White Stag\u2019s escorts.\u201d\n\nThe murdering bastard himself. Good. Gates kept the smile from his voice, \u201cDon\u2019t want to talk to you, want to talk your bosses.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot going to happen.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell then, I suppose they don\u2019t care what Gates had to say when we caught him.\u201d\n\nA delay of a few moments, then: \u201cMight be you do have something we need to discuss.\u201d\n\nThe drive signatures of four of the escorts intensified, courses set to overtake Saint Claire\u2019s Kiss.\n\nA few minutes more.\n\nGates let go of the trigger. Saint Claire\u2019s Kiss stopped adding thrust.\n\n\u201cHow did you come to be in possession of the man?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe didn\u2019t pay promptly.\u201d\n\nA barking laugh, then: \u201cYou were one of the ones hit our station?\u201d\n\n\u201cCould be. Could be I just have someone you want, for an equitable price.\u201d\n\nThe escorts were closing fast, already in missile range.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know, could be we just take your ship out with a couple missiles.\u201d\n\n\u201cSure, but then you wouldn\u2019t learn what Gates had to say about a turncoat in your organization he was using to secure intel for bounties. How do you think I knew to be here?\u201d\n\n\u201cOh?\u201d Kung asked, clearly hoping for more.\n\n\u201cNot that easy. Six hundred thousand credits and safe passage and you\u2019ll get it all: Gates, with whatever he learned about your operations.\u201d\n\nSeveral moments passed in silence, probably Kung asking his bosses for permission.\n\n\u201cAll right, I\u2019ll bite. Prepare to be boarded.\u201d\n\n\u201cJust don\u2019t try and change the terms of the deal, hear?\u201d\n\n\u201cRight, Kung out.\u201d\n\nThe four Cutlasses closed in, one preparing to dock with the ugly little freighter. Gates flipped the switch below the drive trigger on his remote.\n\nSaint Claire\u2019s Kiss, her drive, and the explosives with which Gates had packed her detonated. Kung and another of the Cutlasses disappeared into the expanding ball of ravening plasma, while the remaining two were clearly disabled, drives flickering.\n\nJust the right amount of bang for my credits, I think. Damn stuff was more expensive than Saint Claire\u2019s Kiss \u2014 gotta be sure to thank Seabrook properly!\n\nOnly two escorts remained on the White Stag, and those were distracted by the death of their commander. Satisfaction flooding him, Gates used that distraction to start launching his missiles as fast as the pods would cycle. As the final missile parted from its cradle he changed course, heading directly for the White Stag and pushing the throttle to the stops.\n\nTwo minutes to cannon range.\n\nThe closer escort turned into the missiles boring in on her, trying to narrow her sensor profile. The pilot was doing everything right, launching countermeasures even as the first of Gates\u2019 missiles, now in active tracking mode, closed.\n\nGates checked on his quarry: the White Stag was launching her own countermeasures, the captain making sure she wasn\u2019t getting hit.\n\nThe nearer Cutlass had avoided the first missile only to take the second one square on the nose. Shields dead, the first missile looped back to explode just aft of her, shredding the primary drive.\n\nIt took Gates a moment to find the other escort. When he did, he snarled.\n\nDamn smart. The Cutlass was tight alongside the White Stag, where the larger vessel could use her her point defense guns to protect the escort from Gates. First one, then another of his missiles were burned from space. But by then Gates was close enough to start hammering the larger vessel with everything he had.\n\nHe had the aft shields nearly down when his ECM suite blatted a warning. The Cutlass, looking for missile lock.\n\nHe swung the 325 into a looping spiral around the axis of his target, maintaining fire from all guns.\n\nJust a little longer.\n\nThe warning tone warbled up to a screech, a missile incoming. Fear momentarily paralyzed Gates, mind\u2019s eye replaying past battles. Each breath was suddenly as hard as sucking water from a rock.\n\nHe squeezed his eyes shut.\n\nGet out from under it, Gates! No time for this shit!\n\nHe broke free of his paralysis with a shout only he could hear. Letting up on the firing stud, Gates slammed the 325 through another roll, exiting closer to the White Stag, so close as to be almost atop the liner\u2019s shields.\n\nThe warning tone stopped abruptly as the canopy lit with a dull flare of light: the White Stag\u2019s point defense lasers boiling the deadly missile into its constituent materials.\n\n\u201cSee, two can play that game, you bastards!\u201d Gates howled into his helmet.\n\nHe cranked the 325 \u2018up\u2019 and away from the liner, started battering the bigger vessel\u2019s shields down, one eye on the Cutlass in his plot.\n\nHe began scoring hits through the shields, mass driver munitions vaporizing armor plate.\n\nThe White Stag spun along its axis, presenting fresh armor to Gates\u2019 guns. He obliged the maneuver with more fire, tagging a shield generator.\n\nThe missile lock warning returned, started to doppler up again.\n\nGates maneuvered in tight with the liner again.\n\nToo late, he realized the White Stag\u2019s point defense systems weren\u2019t firing.\n\nGood coordination, damn them!\n\nThe missile detonated off his starboard side. The explosion pounded his shields flat and vaporized the armor all along that side of the 325.\n\nGates\u2019 grin was feral: the White Stag had taken as much damage, if not more, than the 325. He inverted relative to the Cutlass, presenting his unmarked side to the escort.\n\nThe 325 shuddered, lashed by fire from the Cutlass. Ignoring it, Gates kept pouring fire into the wounded flank of the liner, blasts erupting deeper in the hull with every shot.\n\nJust a little longer.\n\nAnother pounding, another set of warning lights. Gates adjusted position, started weaving back and forth across the liner\u2019s drive nacelles, still firing steadily.\n\nThe Cutlass kept at it, as well.\n\nAn attitude thruster on the 325 disintegrated, causing a sudden slow-down in his weave. The next salvo of laser cannon fire meant for Gates lashed past and punched into the White Stag\u2019s hull.\n\nSomething finally broke inside the White Stag, a sudden stuttering of her main drives making her slide from under Gates\u2019 guns.\n\nGates sideslipped then pulled back on the stick. The Cutlass stayed with him through the upper part of the loop, started losing him at the apex. Gates tried to roll out behind his pursuer, but his remaining directional thrusters weren\u2019t up to the task: he exited alongside the Cutlass instead of behind.\n\nWary of a collision, his adversary turned away, hard. It was the wrong thing to do. The Cutlass clipped one of the White Stag\u2019s drives. The resultant explosion was shocking in its violence.\n\nA massive chunk of one of the vessels \u2014 Gates was fairly sure it was part of the Cutlass \u2013 flew free of the spherical explosion toward Gates.\n\nIn the instant before impact, Gates threw his arms up, an animal\u2019s reflex in the face of death.\n\nMetal and ceramic met metal and ceramic with a crunching finality.\n\nThe cockpit went dark; so did Gates.\n\nThe rattling quality of his own breathing brought him back. Snorting air through a broken nose. Not the first time that\u2019s happened, eh?\n\nHe blinked, tried to get his bearings. The cockpit had enough light to see drops of his own blood floating inside his helmet. It was the thick red of head-blood, already partially clotted.\n\nThoughts were sluggish: Gravity\u2019s out.\n\nNot good.\n\nLast thing to go, more often than not. If it weren\u2019t, spacers tended to make messy pancakes on the inside of their vessels.\n\nSudden fear rose up, threatened to drown him.\n\nHe let it win for a while.\n\nAt least, Gates told himself, he was letting it out.\n\nHe eventually managed to dig his medkit out and self-administer a shot of O&S.\n\nGates spent his last moments of consciousness screaming.\n\n. . . to be continued"},"links_count":0,"comment_count":25,"created_at":"2013-09-20T00:00:00+00:00","created_at_human":"12 years ago"},"meta":{"processed_at":"2026-05-14 09:07:17","valid_relations":["images","links"],"prev_id":13271,"next_id":13274}}