DATELINE: SESEN Part Three - [Comm-Links](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links) - DATELINE: SESEN Part Three DATELINE: SESEN Part Three ========================== Undefined Undefined Dateline: Sesen [Previous](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/13557) [Next](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/13559) Content ------- English Breaking news: Seasoned Crime Reporter, Ulla Yadav, and Bodyguard, James Haddix, Captured in the Field. “We need help,” she yelled. Her throat was dry, scratchy. She wasn’t sure her voice carried. She gasped heavily, but couldn’t get enough oxygen. The air on this planet was thin. Three dark figures jogged toward her — men, decked head to toe in black armor. They had weapons in hand, but not poised for discharge. In the distance, an older Constellation touched down. Early morning sunlight glinted off red, pirate war-paint that smattered the ship’s hull. It made the craft look like it was made of burning liquid metal. Yadav shuddered, realizing she and Haddix would soon be in the hands of marauders. She wondered what their chances of survival might be. But then the spotlight above shifted, and when she looked again the insignia on the Connie wasn’t red. It must have been her eyes, a trick of the twilight. Or maybe her optic nerves had been damaged. Royal blue and golden-yellow swirls and stripes adorned the ship’s hide. A government seal. It wasn’t a pirate ship. When the men reached her, they pulled her bodily from the wreckage. They wore thick masks over their mouths and noses. She cried out as they twisted her arms behind her back — wrenching her damaged elbow — and secured her hands with zip ties. They forced her to a kneeling position. One man held his Model II Arclight against her head and demanded to know how many others were with her. “Just one. He’s injured bad — bleeding.” “I need the med ship,” he said into his radio. “Suspects are being taken into custody. One conscious, appears able to walk. The other …” He watched his colleagues examine Haddix. “The other is non-responsive, but breathing.” The doors of the ship Yadav had taken for a pirate’s skiff opened. Two men with MaxOx P4s stepped out, followed by a woman dressed in a dark pantsuit. Her black hair hung to her waist, straight and sleek, held back in a simple pony tail. She crossed her arms authoritatively, surveying the scene for a moment before striding toward Yadav’s position. “Madame Governor, I suggest you stay back,” the man with the Arclight said. “It looks like you’ve got the situation under control.” Leaning toward Yadav, she said, “How do you like our new cannon?” Yadav didn’t say anything. “From now on,” the governor continued, “Any unauthorized ship that breaches our atmosphere will be shot out of the sky. Pirates or otherwise.” “We’re not pirates,” Yadav said, trying to keep her voice steady, despite the shooting pain in her arm. “We’re reporters. New United.” She twisted her arm as best she could to reveal the press tattoo on the inside of her wrist. The governor leaned over to get take a look. “You both have press ID codes, then?” “Yes.” A medical shuttle touched down, kicking up dust. Three men and a woman, all in white, rushed out carrying two gurneys. “Good,” said the governor. “You can give them to Mr. Sato here. We’ll take you to my medical facilities, fix you up, and prep for interrogation.” She beckoned to the people in white. An emergency staff member rushed to Yadav. A cup of water was thrust in her face, and she drank greedily. Mr. Sato yanked her to her feet and freed her wrists before she was not-so-gently maneuvered onto a gurney. As they boarded the med ship, someone stuck an IV in Yadav’s arm. A doctor shined a penlight in each of her eyes, then threw a blanket over her. When she asked, they propped her gurney into a sitting position. It felt like a decade passed before Haddix was loaded in beside her. He looked cleaner — not quite as shocking as he had amongst the wreckage. They’d wrapped his wounds relatively well, and no blood was visible through the temporary bandages. Someone put him on oxygen and covered him with a blanket like Yadav’s. When the ship took off, he didn’t move or make a sound. She reached out for his hand and squeezed, but he didn’t squeeze back. The med transport had large windows, which gave her a broad view of the planet as they traveled. Eventually, the barren rocks and outcroppings were accompanied by a smattering of vegetation. The occasional sickly-looking farming plot passed by in a blur. When they entered the city, the sun was nearly up. She noted the abundance of plaster-less, square buildings, stacked right up against each other. Raw rebar thrust up from the flat roofs like the legs of dead insects, and crumbling concrete littered the road. Many windows were glassless, covered instead by filthy rags and moth-eaten scraps. Breaks between the blocks of cement structures were punctuated by circled lean-tos. The shanty houses, composed of whatever had been lying around, had communal cooking pits at their centers and laundry lines linking them together. Dust-covered, half-naked children ran next to the medical transport, waving. Yadav waved back. “Populace is poor,” she whispered, hoping her recorder was still in good shape. “Pirates must pose great threat. Ask governor what other measures they take to keep safe.” A single cannon that could take down one spaceship wouldn’t be much help if the pirates decided to strike en masse. “Ask about when pirates appeared, and if she knows why they target such strange goods.” The medical shuttle landed atop a steep hill overlooking the small city. Tall, sleek buildings sat in a clustered complex behind an iron gate. Yadav immediately noted how modern and high-end everything looked. Lots of polished metal and glass. It set a stark contrast to the cramped, dilapidated buildings below. She’d seen economic disparities like this many times before. Often it was a symptom of an oppressive state. The med team rushed Haddix from the shuttle. Her exit was more leisurely. The foyer of the building they entered was lavish, akin to many of the corporate headquarters Yadav had visited. A doctor and several assistants met them there, and took control of her gurney. The medical bay was on the seventh floor, accessed by a wide, stainless steel elevator. Someone cut off her suit as she was transferred to a proper medical bed. The room was spacious, and carried the familiar antiseptic smell of all up-to-date hospitals. Men and women rushed around in masks and hair nets. The doctor calmly gave orders as she looked Yadav over. Scanners wound around the reporter’s body, operated by several hands. “Your elbow is broken, and you have severe whiplash,” the doctor told her. “Your skin and muscle problems can be repaired easily with quick-grafts. Don’t worry,” her eyes smiled, above the medical mask. “You’ll be fine.” “What about Haddix — James?” Yadav croaked. “He’s with Dr. Yang.” “What’s … can I …?” “You’ll be updated as soon as you’re both on your way to recovery. Now, I need you to count back from one hundred.” They were going to put her under. Yadav tried to sit up. “First tell me about Haddix.” “You’ll find out in recovery.” The doctor brought out an aerosol anesthetic. Even in its foggy state, Yadav’s mind fought back. She didn’t know anything about this planet, or these people. Reptilian instincts told Yadav that she shouldn’t let them anesthetize her. That if she could, she should struggle — get away — reassess. But then there were four sets of hands holding her down, and the mask was descending, and the doctor was counting for her, “One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven …” The oblivion that washed over her was anything but sweet. to be continued … Breaking news: Seasoned Crime Reporter, Ulla Yadav, und Bodyguard, James Haddix, gefangen im Feld. "Wir brauchen Hilfe", schrie sie. Ihre Kehle war trocken, kratzig. Sie war sich nicht sicher, ob ihre Stimme getragen wurde. Sie keuchte stark, konnte aber nicht genug Sauerstoff bekommen. Die Luft auf diesem Planeten war dünn. Drei dunkle Gestalten joggten auf sie zu - Männer, von Kopf bis Fuß in schwarzer Rüstung gedeckt. Sie hatten Waffen in der Hand, waren aber nicht bereit für die Entlassung. In der Ferne landete eine ältere Konstellation. Das Sonnenlicht am frühen Morgen schimmerte von der roten, piratenhaften Kriegsbemalung, die den Schiffsrumpf zertrümmerte. Es ließ das Schiff aussehen, als wäre es aus brennendem Flüssigmetall. Yadav schauderte und erkannte, dass sie und Haddix bald in den Händen von Marodern sein würden. Sie fragte sich, wie ihre Überlebenschancen sein könnten. Aber dann verlagerte sich der Scheinwerfer darüber, und als sie wieder hinschaute, war das Abzeichen auf der Connie nicht rot. Es müssen ihre Augen gewesen sein, ein Trick der Dämmerung. Oder vielleicht waren ihre Sehnerven beschädigt. Königsblaue und goldgelbe Wirbel und Streifen schmückten die Schiffshaut. Ein Regierungssiegel. Es war kein Piratenschiff. Als die Männer sie erreichten, zogen sie sie körperlich aus dem Wrack. Sie trugen dicke Masken über Mund und Nase. Sie schrie auf, als sie ihre Arme hinter ihrem Rücken verdrehten - ihren beschädigten Ellbogen zerrissen - und ihre Hände mit Reißverschlüssen sicherten. Sie zwangen sie in eine kniende Position. Ein Mann hielt ihr seine Model II Arclight an den Kopf und verlangte zu wissen, wie viele andere bei ihr waren. "Nur eine. Er ist schwer verletzt - Blutungen." "Ich brauche das Medizinschiff", sagte er in sein Radio. "Verdächtige werden inhaftiert. Ein Bewusster, der in der Lage zu gehen scheint. Die andere...." Er beobachtete, wie seine Kollegen Haddix untersuchten. "Der andere ist nicht ansprechbar, sondern atmet." Die Türen des Schiffes, das Yadav für ein Piratenboot genommen hatte, öffneten sich. Zwei Männer mit MaxOx P4s traten heraus, gefolgt von einer Frau in einem dunklen Hosenanzug. Ihr schwarzes Haar hing an ihrer Taille, gerade und geschmeidig, zurückgehalten in einem einfachen Pferdeschwanz. Sie verschränkte ihre Arme autoritativ und beobachtete die Szene für einen Moment, bevor sie sich Yadavs Position näherte. "Madame Governor, ich schlage vor, dass Sie sich zurückhalten", sagte der Mann mit dem Scheinwerfer. "Es sieht so aus, als hättest du die Situation unter Kontrolle." Sie neigte sich Yadav zu und sagte: "Wie gefällt dir unsere neue Kanone?" Yadav hat nichts gesagt. "Von nun an", fuhr der Gouverneur fort, "wird jedes nicht autorisierte Schiff, das unsere Atmosphäre verletzt, vom Himmel geschossen. Piraten oder andere." "Wir sind keine Piraten", sagte Yadav und versuchte, ihre Stimme ruhig zu halten, trotz der schießenden Schmerzen in ihrem Arm. "Wir sind Reporter. New United." Sie verdrehte ihren Arm so gut sie konnte, um das Pressentattoo auf der Innenseite ihres Handgelenks zu enthüllen. Der Gouverneur lehnte sich hinüber, um einen Blick darauf zu werfen. "Ihr habt beide Presseausweise, dann?" " Ja." Ein medizinisches Shuttle landete und wirbelte Staub auf. Drei Männer und eine Frau, alle in Weiß, eilten mit zwei Tragegurten hinaus. "Gut", sagte der Gouverneur. "Du kannst sie Mr. Sato hier geben. Wir bringen Sie zu meinen medizinischen Einrichtungen, versorgen Sie und bereiten Sie auf das Verhör vor." Sie winkte den Menschen in Weiß zu. Ein Notfallmitarbeiter eilte nach Yadav. Ein Becher Wasser wurde ihr ins Gesicht geschoben, und sie trank gierig. Mr. Sato zog sie auf die Füße und befreite ihre Handgelenke, bevor sie nicht - so sanft - auf eine Trage manövriert wurde. Als sie das Medizinschiff bestiegen, steckte jemand eine IV in Yadavs Arm. Ein Arzt leuchtete eine Taschenlampe in jedes ihrer Augen, dann warf er eine Decke über sie. Als sie fragte, stützten sie ihre Trage in eine sitzende Position. Es fühlte sich an, als verging ein Jahrzehnt, bevor Haddix neben ihr verladen wurde. Er sah sauberer aus - nicht ganz so schockierend wie bei den Wracks. Sie hatten seine Wunden relativ gut eingewickelt, und durch die temporären Verbände war kein Blut sichtbar. Jemand gab ihm Sauerstoff und bedeckte ihn mit einer Decke wie die von Yadav. Als das Schiff abflog, bewegte er sich nicht und machte kein Geräusch. Sie griff nach seiner Hand und drückte, aber er drückte nicht zurück. Der Krankentransport hatte große Fenster, die ihr einen weiten Blick auf den Planeten gaben, während sie unterwegs waren. Schließlich wurden die kargen Felsen und Aufschlüsse von einer Klatsche der Vegetation begleitet. Das gelegentlich kränklich aussehende landwirtschaftliche Grundstück verging verschwommen. Als sie in die Stadt kamen, war die Sonne fast aufgegangen. Sie bemerkte die Fülle von gipslosen, quadratischen Gebäuden, die direkt aneinandergereiht waren. Rohstahl, der von den Flachdächern wie die Beine toter Insekten nach oben geschoben wurde, und bröckelnder Beton, der die Straße verunreinigte. Viele Fenster waren glaslos, stattdessen bedeckt von schmutzigen Lumpen und mottenzerfressenen Fetzen. Brüche zwischen den Blöcken von Zementstrukturen wurden durch umlaufende Lean-Tos unterbrochen. Die Barackenhäuser, bestehend aus dem, was herumlag, hatten gemeinsame Kochstellen in ihren Zentren und Wäschelinien, die sie miteinander verbanden. Staubbedeckte, halbnackte Kinder rannten neben dem Krankentransport und winkten. Yadav winkte zurück. "Die Bevölkerung ist arm", flüsterte sie und hoffte, dass ihre Blockflöte noch in gutem Zustand sei. "Piraten müssen eine große Bedrohung darstellen. Fragen Sie den Gouverneur, welche anderen Maßnahmen sie ergreifen, um die Sicherheit zu gewährleisten." Eine einzige Kanone, die ein Raumschiff zerstören könnte, wäre keine große Hilfe, wenn die Piraten beschließen würden, massenhaft zuzuschlagen. "Fragen Sie, wann Piraten erschienen sind und ob sie weiß, warum sie auf so seltsame Waren abzielen." Das medizinische Shuttle landete auf einem steilen Hügel mit Blick auf die kleine Stadt. Hohe, schlanke Gebäude befanden sich in einem gebündelten Komplex hinter einem Eisentor. Yadav bemerkte sofort, wie modern und hochwertig alles aussah. Viel poliertes Metall und Glas. Es bildet einen starken Kontrast zu den engen, baufälligen Gebäuden darunter. Sie hatte solche wirtschaftlichen Ungleichgewichte schon oft gesehen. Oft war es ein Symptom eines repressiven Staates. Das medizinische Team eilte Haddix aus dem Shuttle. Ihr Ausstieg war gemächlicher. Das Foyer des von ihnen betreuten Gebäudes war aufwendig, ähnlich wie viele der von Yadav besuchten Konzernzentralen. Ein Arzt und mehrere Assistenten trafen sie dort und übernahmen die Kontrolle über ihre Trage. Der medizinische Bereich befand sich im siebten Stock, der durch einen breiten, rostfreien Aufzug zugänglich war. Jemand hat ihren Anzug abgeschnitten, als sie in ein richtiges medizinisches Bett verlegt wurde. Der Raum war geräumig und trug den bekannten antiseptischen Geruch aller modernen Krankenhäuser. Männer und Frauen eilten mit Masken und Haarnetzen herum. Die Ärztin gab ruhig Befehle, als sie Yadav ansah. Scanner, die um den Körper des Reporters gewickelt sind und von mehreren Händen bedient werden. "Dein Ellbogen ist gebrochen und du hast einen schweren Schleudertrauma", sagte der Arzt zu ihr. "Mit Schnelltransplantaten können Ihre Haut- und Muskelprobleme leicht behoben werden. Keine Sorge", lächelten ihre Augen, über der medizinischen Maske. "Es wird alles gut." "Was ist mit Haddix - James?" Yadav krächzte. "Er ist bei Dr. Yang." "Was ist.... kann ich...?" "Ihr werdet auf dem Laufenden gehalten, sobald ihr beide auf dem Weg der Genesung seid. Jetzt musst du von hundert zurückzählen." Sie wollten sie betäuben. Yadav versuchte, sich aufzurichten. "Erzähl mir zuerst von Haddix." "Das wirst du in der Genesung herausfinden." Der Arzt brachte ein Aerosol-Anästhetikum heraus. Selbst in seinem nebligen Zustand wehrte sich Yadavs Verstand. Sie wusste nichts über diesen Planeten und diese Menschen. Reptilieninstinkte sagten Yadav, dass sie sich nicht von ihnen betäuben lassen sollte. Dass, wenn sie könnte, sie kämpfen sollte - wegkommen - neu bewerten. Aber dann gab es vier Paar Hände, die sie festhielten, und die Maske stieg ab, und der Arzt zählte für sie: "Einhundertneunzigneunzig, achtundneunzig, achtundneunzig, achtundneunzig, siebenundneunzig....". Das Vergessen, das über sie hereinbrach, war alles andere als süß. wird fortgesetzt..... Breaking news: Seasoned Crime Reporter, Ulla Yadav, and Bodyguard, James Haddix, Captured in the Field. “We need help,” she yelled. Her throat was dry, scratchy. She wasn’t sure her voice carried. She gasped heavily, but couldn’t get enough oxygen. The air on this planet was thin. Three dark figures jogged toward her — men, decked head to toe in black armor. They had weapons in hand, but not poised for discharge. In the distance, an older Constellation touched down. Early morning sunlight glinted off red, pirate war-paint that smattered the ship’s hull. It made the craft look like it was made of burning liquid metal. Yadav shuddered, realizing she and Haddix would soon be in the hands of marauders. She wondered what their chances of survival might be. But then the spotlight above shifted, and when she looked again the insignia on the Connie wasn’t red. It must have been her eyes, a trick of the twilight. Or maybe her optic nerves had been damaged. Royal blue and golden-yellow swirls and stripes adorned the ship’s hide. A government seal. It wasn’t a pirate ship. When the men reached her, they pulled her bodily from the wreckage. They wore thick masks over their mouths and noses. She cried out as they twisted her arms behind her back — wrenching her damaged elbow — and secured her hands with zip ties. They forced her to a kneeling position. One man held his Model II Arclight against her head and demanded to know how many others were with her. “Just one. He’s injured bad — bleeding.” “I need the med ship,” he said into his radio. “Suspects are being taken into custody. One conscious, appears able to walk. The other …” He watched his colleagues examine Haddix. “The other is non-responsive, but breathing.” The doors of the ship Yadav had taken for a pirate’s skiff opened. Two men with MaxOx P4s stepped out, followed by a woman dressed in a dark pantsuit. Her black hair hung to her waist, straight and sleek, held back in a simple pony tail. She crossed her arms authoritatively, surveying the scene for a moment before striding toward Yadav’s position. “Madame Governor, I suggest you stay back,” the man with the Arclight said. “It looks like you’ve got the situation under control.” Leaning toward Yadav, she said, “How do you like our new cannon?” Yadav didn’t say anything. “From now on,” the governor continued, “Any unauthorized ship that breaches our atmosphere will be shot out of the sky. Pirates or otherwise.” “We’re not pirates,” Yadav said, trying to keep her voice steady, despite the shooting pain in her arm. “We’re reporters. New United.” She twisted her arm as best she could to reveal the press tattoo on the inside of her wrist. The governor leaned over to get take a look. “You both have press ID codes, then?” “Yes.” A medical shuttle touched down, kicking up dust. Three men and a woman, all in white, rushed out carrying two gurneys. “Good,” said the governor. “You can give them to Mr. Sato here. We’ll take you to my medical facilities, fix you up, and prep for interrogation.” She beckoned to the people in white. An emergency staff member rushed to Yadav. A cup of water was thrust in her face, and she drank greedily. Mr. Sato yanked her to her feet and freed her wrists before she was not-so-gently maneuvered onto a gurney. As they boarded the med ship, someone stuck an IV in Yadav’s arm. A doctor shined a penlight in each of her eyes, then threw a blanket over her. When she asked, they propped her gurney into a sitting position. It felt like a decade passed before Haddix was loaded in beside her. He looked cleaner — not quite as shocking as he had amongst the wreckage. They’d wrapped his wounds relatively well, and no blood was visible through the temporary bandages. Someone put him on oxygen and covered him with a blanket like Yadav’s. When the ship took off, he didn’t move or make a sound. She reached out for his hand and squeezed, but he didn’t squeeze back. The med transport had large windows, which gave her a broad view of the planet as they traveled. Eventually, the barren rocks and outcroppings were accompanied by a smattering of vegetation. The occasional sickly-looking farming plot passed by in a blur. When they entered the city, the sun was nearly up. She noted the abundance of plaster-less, square buildings, stacked right up against each other. Raw rebar thrust up from the flat roofs like the legs of dead insects, and crumbling concrete littered the road. Many windows were glassless, covered instead by filthy rags and moth-eaten scraps. Breaks between the blocks of cement structures were punctuated by circled lean-tos. The shanty houses, composed of whatever had been lying around, had communal cooking pits at their centers and laundry lines linking them together. Dust-covered, half-naked children ran next to the medical transport, waving. Yadav waved back. “Populace is poor,” she whispered, hoping her recorder was still in good shape. “Pirates must pose great threat. Ask governor what other measures they take to keep safe.” A single cannon that could take down one spaceship wouldn’t be much help if the pirates decided to strike en masse. “Ask about when pirates appeared, and if she knows why they target such strange goods.” The medical shuttle landed atop a steep hill overlooking the small city. Tall, sleek buildings sat in a clustered complex behind an iron gate. Yadav immediately noted how modern and high-end everything looked. Lots of polished metal and glass. It set a stark contrast to the cramped, dilapidated buildings below. She’d seen economic disparities like this many times before. Often it was a symptom of an oppressive state. The med team rushed Haddix from the shuttle. Her exit was more leisurely. The foyer of the building they entered was lavish, akin to many of the corporate headquarters Yadav had visited. A doctor and several assistants met them there, and took control of her gurney. The medical bay was on the seventh floor, accessed by a wide, stainless steel elevator. Someone cut off her suit as she was transferred to a proper medical bed. The room was spacious, and carried the familiar antiseptic smell of all up-to-date hospitals. Men and women rushed around in masks and hair nets. The doctor calmly gave orders as she looked Yadav over. Scanners wound around the reporter’s body, operated by several hands. “Your elbow is broken, and you have severe whiplash,” the doctor told her. “Your skin and muscle problems can be repaired easily with quick-grafts. Don’t worry,” her eyes smiled, above the medical mask. “You’ll be fine.” “What about Haddix — James?” Yadav croaked. “He’s with Dr. Yang.” “What’s … can I …?” “You’ll be updated as soon as you’re both on your way to recovery. Now, I need you to count back from one hundred.” They were going to put her under. Yadav tried to sit up. “First tell me about Haddix.” “You’ll find out in recovery.” The doctor brought out an aerosol anesthetic. Even in its foggy state, Yadav’s mind fought back. She didn’t know anything about this planet, or these people. Reptilian instincts told Yadav that she shouldn’t let them anesthetize her. That if she could, she should struggle — get away — reassess. But then there were four sets of hands holding her down, and the mask was descending, and the doctor was counting for her, “One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven …” The oblivion that washed over her was anything but sweet. to be continued … Links ----- No links available. Images ------ 1 image/jpeg [ ![](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/media/x3l6h1jdbgno8r/source/DatelineSesenFI3.jpg) ](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/media/x3l6h1jdbgno8r/source/DatelineSesenFI3.jpg) DatelineSesenFI3.jpg [Details](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/images/1292) Last Modified 12 years ago Size 1.52 MB [Source](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/media/x3l6h1jdbgno8r/source/DatelineSesenFI3.jpg) [Info](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/comm-links/images/1292) Metadata -------- CIG ID 13558 Channel Undefined Category Undefined Series Dateline: Sesen Comments 54 Published 12 years ago (2014-02-14T00:00:00+00:00) [RSI Article](https://robertsspaceindustries.com/comm-link/serialized-fiction/13558-DATELINE-SESEN-Part-Three) [API](https://api.star-citizen.wiki/api/comm-links/13558)