Rogue Ops 4 - Bargaining
27 Nov 2018Leon Falkner
0303, May 30, 3304Dutton Station
Ho Hsien
Leon’s hand hovered over the hyperdrive control. He could still turn back. Make a bee line for the frontier, change his name and disappear. He shook his head, blinking hard. That was the cowards way. Running wouldn’t avenge his father. Fleeing wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Killing them won’t bring him back. It was a rogue thought, bashing into his mind like a micrometeor against a shield. He understood it. It was logical.
The hyperdrive whirred and engaged, starlight elongated and distorted. He wasn’t feeling logical. Leon felt like revenge.
It hadn’t taken long, the supplies weren’t hard to come by if you had the right contacts. About twenty tons of foodstuffs, or at least that’s what the cargo cans were registered as. In truth, it was about 19 tons of Imperial grade high explosive. The drop said it was designed to burn hot but not destroy station bulkheads. Leon wanted revenge, not collateral damage.
The station still hadn’t upgraded the auto loader mechs from the old 5.7 firmware, so their security keys were broken by the program Leon had installed on his ship before the engines had cooled. With an innocuous “delivery” notice, the mechs swept the cannisters away into the depths of the station. Leaving only one of the twenty cans left aboard.
With a hiss of pressurized air and coolant, the cargo can opened. Inside, layered in what looked to Leon to be a subdued white velvet material was a bevy of personal armaments: two different rifles, five different pistols, a knife, ammo magazines and power pacs, and an actual no-kidding sword. Leon cracked a smile. When the Imperials said they would be giving you weapons, they meant it. He belted teh automatic rifle, a sleek Imperial laser design. There were silver inlays across the back of the iron sight. Even the guns needed some class, Leon thought darkly. Yes they’re for murder and not much else but at least you will be murdered elegantly. The two pistols came next, these were standard Fed-designed slug throwers. Nothing fancy, black metal, well oiled. Leon was never much for guns. He preferred the big fire and explosions to be happening on the other end of cockpit glass but he had taken the standard Federation training course. He tucked the knife (a rather stylish steel affair, perfectly balanced) into his boot.
He was as prepared as he would ever be.
Twenty minutes and three bypassed door systems later Leon was back in the dim industrial metal hallways he knew all too well. The cargo cans, he noted with satisfaction, had been packed and tucked away into main rooms and far from structural supports. A man rounded a corner, dressed in a smart black uniform. Leon ginned.
“Citizen, this area is restric-” Is all the man said before he died. The body slumped back into the walkway, four neat holes in a decent spread across his chest. There was a tense pause as smoke curled upward away from the pistol’s barrel. A moment later, the alarms started. Leon legs twitched. Every part of him was screaming at his brain to run. You can’t fight them all! You’re mad!
Maybe he was. He thought as he unslung the rifle and primed the power pac. The elegant weapon hummed a single high pitched note.
The first agent appeared from another door about fifty meters down the hallway. Before a gun had cleared leather He was down, his chest erupting into burning shreds. The second and third came together, one managing to squeeze a shot off that went wild and bounced off the ceiling before dropping.
Two more came and went before they got smart. A small can was tossed from a door frame, a red light pulsing on its lid. Leon dove before the flashbang went off. He came up and sprinted down another side passage.
The agent was standing at the end of the walkway, tapping furiously into a wrist comm.
“Agent.” Leon said over the sound of the claxons. The man looked up, a look of shock followed close by fury.
“You!” Leon raised the rifle. The man dove for a strut right before the laser beam punched a burning hole right where he had just stood.
“What’s your plan, pirate? You’re in the middle of a secure station! No one’s letting you out alive now!” The agent yelled over the din.
“Plan?” Leon said. “You’re going to let me walk out of here.” Leon brought his hand to a small communicator. “I’ve got 19 tons of Imperial Explosive wired around this facility. Kill me, and this whole place is burned to a crisp.”
“You mad bastard, you’re never gonna see space again.” The agent stepped out, a gun trained on Leon. A squad of his fellows had joined him from behind Leon. He was surrounded.
“Hold fire!”
“Device!”
“Evac the section! Get me the bomb unit!” The lead agent barked. Leon shook his head.
“Your comms have been cut, you haven’t been able to reach station security at all. Isn’t that right Agent?” The glare that Leon received confirmed he was right. “No one’s getting out of here until I get what I want.”
“And what would that be?”
Leon gestured with the gun towards the lead agent. “Him. I want you all to shoot him.”