StarDestroyer.Net BBS

Marcao and I got some very good feedback about our little assassins duel. I have here posted the entire thing as one, so you dont have to go digging through the game thread to get the components if you want to read the whole thing. I hope you guys enjoyed reading it half as much as we did writing it! (Bold stuff is mine, normal is Marcao's)


Manasan Space
Manasa IV, Government Palace

The government palace within Manasa IV was a memory of earlier times, and proudly stood in memory to the nation’s ancestry. It remained an impressive edifice, and was the oldest structure in the planet proper. Avery took the time to let his eyes wonder over the subtle curves and shapes that adorned the walls; he could appreciate beauty when he saw it. His arrival to the planet had been straight forward, his shuttle carrying him quietly to the designated landing zone. Once there, the shuttle had activated its chameleon field as he left it behind and made his way to his meeting spot with those that awaited him.

And now he was where he was supposed to be, in his way to a secret audience with the ruler of the Manasans. He was escorted quietly by four armed guards, each holding their weapon and their ceremonial armor as people that knew what they were doing. It was not surprising, these were the honor guards after all. He reminded himself that the Manasans were not his enemy, at least not these Manasans anyways. He was not an ambassador, he was here to make sure that if the leader of the current Manasan government wanted to extend an olive branch to the Empire, he would live long enough to manage to do just that. If it served the Empire, it was worth doing. And so he wordlessly followed his escort, his steps causing little more than a whisper as they made contact with the marble floor of the hall.

The “throne” room of the palace was striking, his eyes wondering for a few seconds as he sought to absorb all of it. It had not been exactly what he had expected, but he recovered quickly. His eyes slid towards his right and saw the figure which sat upon the throne. Ah, here was the man that he had come all this way to meet. The leader of the Manasan’s looked exactly like his dossier had shown, the guards coming to a stop and then moving to flank their leader as he waited to be acknowledged. The Manasan nodded his head and spoke verbally, in the language of his people. “I hope that your arrival to our world and your arrival to this place was enjoyable. I must admit however, that I had expected more of you.” He nearly smiled, although he had enough control over his emotions to keep himself from indulging in such a display. “I am all that is needed, as long as the information that you provided to my government was accurate your highness.” He paused for a moment, watching for the leader’s reaction before continuing. “I am only one part of the Veithan response. I am to be your bodyguard and deal with any stragglers that manage to penetrate your own defenses. In order to deal with the possibilities you described in your threat analysis, my nation has taken other steps.” His right hand extended, a galactic standard data chip in his palm until it was picked up by one of the honor guard and brought to the man that sat upon the throne.

The Manasan ruler nodded, arching a brow for a moment as the chip was brought to him. He wasted no time in accessing the information, his mood lightening considerably at what he saw. “I see that your people are thorough Mr. Cook. I accept your nation’s offer and will allow you to serve as my bodyguard until the situation stabilizes.” Avery nodded his head. “I am pleased. I assure you that I will do everything within my power to assist you in our cause. Now, if you would please excuse me? I would like to talk with your chief of security.” The Manasan ruler nodded, the chief of security summoned. The ruler watched as the Veithan and his chief of security walked away, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath. The ruler was aware that this alliance was a risk, but remaining unallied was even more so. The galaxy had changed, and the choices for a nation such as his had lessened. This was the best choice he could see, he only hoped that he did not live to regret it.

From: Major Vreling of the Manasan Armed Forces.
To: Faran Tor, Krell Combine.
RE: Contract
ENCRYPTED

Citizen Tor, we know that the Krell Combine prides itself on its awareness of galactic events, and so you must know of our situation with the Veithan Empire. This seemingly benevolent republic has never declared war to seize territory, but has slowly taken system after system by using its psychic trickery to sway established governments away from their proud heritage and into mindless submission to the Veithan empire. The Myheri were the most recent to fall, and I fear our world will be next. Our king has been in heavy contact with the Veithans as of late and he seems to be mere months away from announcing full sumbission to the Veithans. We therefore wish to hire your services and purchase an assassin to deal with our misguided king before he condemns our strong world to become a weak colony of a foreign power. For this you will be compensated more than adequately.
____________________________________________________________
To: Major Vreling, Manasa
From: Tor
ENCRYPTED

A standard contract will arive shortly. We have already deployed an operative. Our contract will remain in effect until either the king or our operative is dead. Should our operative be killed before his mission is complete, you will need to renew the contract or finish the job yourself. We stipulate this only because we refuse to allow you access to hundreds of operatives without any assurance of their success.
____________________________________________________________
From: Major Vreling of the Manasan Armed Forces.
To: Faran Tor, Krell Combine.
RE: Contract
ENCRYPTED

We know your reputation well, and are assured that no second operative will be necessary. Contract approved. We wish your man good luck, for all our sakes.



Yrt Ztal had been planted on Manasa IV almost two months ago under personal order of Adar Krell. Krell had seen the maneuverings of the Veithans in that area and had sent Yrt in as an advanced scout, both to gather intelligence and serve as an advance operative if any action should be needed in the system. It was a good thing, too. As soon as Faran Tor confirmed the contract with Major Vreling, Yrt had received a direct order from Krell to assassinate the King of Manasa.

Yrt smiled grimly as he read his order from Krell over again, then formated the data chip on which he had received the order and burned the chip. He knew the protocols well. From this point on he ran silent, and carried nothing with him to identify himself as a member of the Combine. Since the Combine employed members from all worlds, there would be nothing to link Yrt back to the Combine if he were caught. Not that it mattered anyway. First, the Combine was neutral in galactic affairs. The clients would be held responsible for anything that happened. And second, he would never be caught. He had performed twelve succesfull assasinations in his long career and had only been in danger of failing twice. He pulled his hood low over his head as he walked out into the streets of Manasa City, the rushing wind bringing the sounds of ringing church bells. This would take some planning, of course. But within a week, the Manasan king would be dead.


Manasan Space
Manasa IV, Government Palace

Avery was aware of every passing moment, but he did not allow himself to feel irritation at his apparent hyper-awareness. One could not rush fate, and he of all people understood that planning was half the battle. He had spent a considerable amount of time with the chief of security of the Manasan ruler, the technology that the Manasans employed was adequate even if it was well behind what he was used to. Manasa was a minor nation, and even though the internal security and monitoring systems of the government palace were the best the nation could provide, it was far from perfect. It was there where he had come in, or more precisely his nation had come in. The beauty of having embassies in a world such as Manasa was that it allowed for preparation otherwise impossible; the events that would transpire had been foreseen long in advance by the eyes of the black tower. No plan was perfect naturally, but with his presence here his nation tried to stack the deck in its favor.

Although he was one of the most obvious of the Veithan responses, he was not the only one. Even now, half a dozen information analysts were setting up various enhancements to the palace’s internal defenses. It was the prudent thing to do, and while modernizing the entire building was impossible on their time frame the surprises which they added would certainly be an unwelcome sight to the unwary. The broadcast area that the ruler of the Manasans would employ when he announced to his people their new future was located deep beneath the palace. The Manasans were not fools, and beneath the seat of their government laid a series of bunkers designed to survive anything but the most dedicated of planetary bombardments. It was beneath the palace were the bulk of the Veithan defenses would be placed. It was there, in an armored womb surrounded by his own honor guard and Veithan irregulars that the current ruler of Manasa would make history.

His steps carried him gracefully towards the room in his right, a pair of honor guards nodding to him before they opened the doors which led to the ruler’s current chambers. His stealth suit reduced the sound of his passage to a whisper, sound muffled as if he were little more than a ghost. His head turned, eyes seeking the man that he had been tasked with protecting. When he was found, he approached his lips parting as the words tumbled from his lips. “It won’t be long your highness. My people are in position, the gifts I brought have nearly all been placed and the supplementary forces will soon be aligned.” He went silent, watching the ruler of the Manasans consider his words before offering a reply. “I see. I am ready, although I still feel compelled to wonder why your nation’s terms were so generous Mr. Cook. I admit that the Empire has not been a bad neighbor since our last accord. Nonetheless, the terms are…far more generous than I had expected.”

He nearly smiled, a deep breath taken before he responded to the Manasan’s doubts plainly. “You are a King, and as such your hesitation to trust my nation’s intentions is perfectly understandable. I am not a diplomat, but I expect that the terms are generous because the Empire can afford to be. The galaxy has changed in the last weeks, I am certain that you know that as well as anyone. Simply because we are the Veithan Empire, does not mean that we must behave like a group of armed thugs, annexing and conquering everything we see. The strengthening of ties between our nations makes sense, strategically and economically. In a military sense, by assisting in your defense we secure our own immediate borders. Economically, both our nations stand to gain by increased trade.” He paused, listening to his own words for a moment before he continued. “In the end, it is more sensible to have you as allies than enemies and occupations have a habit for getting out of hand. It is something that the Arcane Empire and others seem to have forgotten.”

The Manasan ruler listened quietly, his head tilting slightly towards his right and glancing at one of his guards. He was by now well aware that the royal guards were either telepaths themselves or utilizing some technology that made influencing them difficult. He supposed that it would be possible to break through their defenses if he applied himself enough, perhaps even if he activated his micro-gestalt but those thoughts were mere conjecture. They were his allies at the moment, and he did not plan on squandering them. The royal guard nodded his head, the ruler relaxing slowly before nodding. “Very well. I am ready to proceed.” Avery nodded, his mind reaching out and making contact with the two dozen minds that represented the Veithan covert response to the possibility of an attempted military coup. “My people are ready your highness.”

The King stood from his seat and was immediately flanked by his guards, his eyes watching those of Avery for a moment before he glanced to the honor guard on his left. The guard nodded and walked away, the King’s words straight to the point. “And so it begins. Within the hour, the fate of my nation and your own will be intertwined Mr. Cook.” The King took a deep breath and began to walk, Avery followed by his side. They would head towards an elevator which would take them to the complex below. Over a hundred meters beneath them, half a dozen power armored troopers wearing the black and red of Veitha took position. They understood their role, and if they were needed they would be ready. Moments later, the outer perimeter of the government palace began to be actively monitored and troops began to discretely be repositioned. It was a move sure to attract attention, especially to those that were intimately aware of such activities and what they could represent.


Yrt Ztal cursed to himself repeatedly as he sat in the shadows outside the palace complex. He had anticipated having more itme, but just this morning it had been announced that the King would be making a grand announcement. There was no doubt that this was the declaration of alliance that he had been sent to prevent. The speech was going to be broadcast in a little over two hours. Plan A and Plan B were now useless. He had to attempt the infiltration. This was his specialty, but he hated having to do it. He checked his personal stash of tools and armaments secreted away at different points on his body, all ready for quick access. Most importantly, he checked the small devices on his fingertips. Once activated, these would stick to any surface. Although they could slide along that surface, he could not lift his fingers. A great tool for infiltrations.

Ztal took a deep breath and pulled his cloak close around him. While not as advanced as some stealth suits, it was still good enough to prevent being sighted at a casual glance. It was time. The main enterance to the palace stood right in front of him, sloping walls rising gradually towards magestic towers and spires. There were six enterances around the palace, he knew, and countless windows to slp through. Yet Ztal considered the windows too risky. His target was underground, and the higher up he made his entrance, the farther down he would have to move unseen. Time to start a ruckus.

Yrt Ztal pulled two small orbs from his pocket, activated them, and hurled them across the main entrance. He was on the left side, the orbs landed on the right. A second later, a massive explosion rocked the imperial square. The guards at the main gate all turned to the explosion, bringing weapons to bear. Silent alarms went off throughout the palace, and more guards came streaming towards the front entrance. There was no one there to find.

As soon as Yrt Ztal had thrown the grenades, he had touched the side of the palace with his fingers, stuck, and began to climb. Once he had gotten about twenty yards above street level, he turned sideways and began to run. His feet, unmodified, thudded against the stone surface of the building as his hands stooped close to the surface of the building, keeping him connected. As guards reacted below him, he ran along the walls until he came to another, secondary entrance. His patrols there previously had reported 6 guards, but only 4 were present now. The other two had been drawn by the blast. He positioned himself directly above the gate, the guards' position in relation to the wall left him slightly behind them. He deactivated his finger pads, fell, and landed silently behind the guards, a blade already in each hand. He quickly slit the throats of two of the guards. The other two turned. Yrt Ztal made a quick move fowards and to the side, in one motion throwing a blade and kicking out at the other guard's gun. Half a second after the attack had begun, 3 of the guards were dead, and the last one was unarmed and in shock. Yrt Ztal slid behind the last guard, grabbed his head, and with a quick motion snapped his neck. The final guard fell lifeless. Yrt Ztal picked up his missing blade, and retrieved a commset from one of the guards, placing it in his ear. His head was filled with the babble of guards on security comms. All were reporting the disturbance at the gate, his side attack had gone unnoticed.

"Moving the King down to sublevel 7 to remain there until the speech begins. Avery Cook escorting. Looks like this was just a false alarm, though. Havnt seen any movement since the bombs went off. Probably a terrorist with bad aim." Laughter responded to that, and even Yrt allowed himself a smile, but for an entirely different reason. Reactivating his finger pads, he climbed to the top of the wall, 12 feet above the ground. In the dimly lit passageway with his stealth cloak on, he would be very hard to spot if he moved fast. And he needed to move fast. He sped along the walls of the palace, heading towards the deck of lifts that could take him below to where the King was apparently waiting. Grim determination had taken over every other aspect of his being.

He was in.


Manasan Space
Manasa IV, Government Palace

They reached the elevator within one hundred and seventeen seconds of seeking it, it was the primary way of getting into the sub-levels that made up the government bunkers. It took a few minutes for the elevator to crawl its way down the shaft, but it did eventually reach its destination. The King and his escort exited followed by Avery himself. Once at the bottom, the elevator was disabled as a security precaution. For a moment, it seemed as if all was well it was then that he felt a mental presence brush against his mind, thoughts exchanged discretely. ~Avery, there have been explosions outside of the building. The Manasan forces think that it was a false alarm, but I have my doubts. Four security officers are no longer reporting in, in my estimation we have an agent or agents within the building.~

Avery did not hesitate, he knew what had to be done. ~I see. We will work under the premise that there is someone or a group of people in the palace proper. Execute plan able, monitor the new additions installed to the network that was in place and tell me what you see. I will deal with any intruders.~ There was only a breath’s hesitation before a response. ~Confirmed Avery, switching to plan able we will keep you informed.~ His head turned and he glanced towards the King as they walked down towards the transmission room. As they walked, they passed several stations where the relatively thin halls were guarded by Veithan powered armor. “Your Highness, the palace may be under an attempted infiltration. I will leave you with your body guards as I take steps to deal with these threats. I have told my people to begin a process of misinformation among your own loyal troops. They do not need to know exactly where you will be, and it is possible that their communication systems may be tapped.” The King watched him for a moment but nodded. They had already had a discussion about his role in all of this, and the King understood that Avery was a firm believer in offensive actions for a defensive goal. Besides, he could return to his side quickly enough. He had made arrangements for that.

He walked back towards the elevator, his mind mentally activating the full extent of his stealth suit abilities. The Dark Cloak about his shoulders used a combination of quantum optics to literally bend light around him and in doing so, played merry hell with most EM sensing devices. In concert with the noise-canceling abilities of his suit, he had become a shadow. His mind widened and expanded blossoming like a morning sun. He was a prime, and he sought his enemy not merely with his senses and sensors, but with his mind. His hands moved, both his pistols sliding to his hands in a familiar fashion. Each hybrid pistol held within twenty shots of anti-matter ammunition. More than enough to kill just about anything that moved. The elevator was disabled, but he had no plans on using it. He came to a stop, concentrating for a moment as he sought a certain spot. Once it was found, he willed himself there and his mind did the rest of the work. Now that he was no longer near the King, he was the hunter.



So far so good.

Yrt Ztal slid along the top corners of the palace passageways, his mind focused inwards. He was doing his best to utilize his neural implants. This seemed to him to be the wisest course of action. He would encounter Veithans, he was sure, and did not want to be caught mentally unawares.

The enhanced situational awareness that came from his implants helped as well. He detected the security systems long before he was within range of their fields. He crouched in a corner, feeling out the path that the sensor grid followed. In a minute, he had it. Just as he suspected. The sensor net was heavily biased towaards the ground. Anything walking along would trip the maze of laser sights locatd as high as 9 feet off the ground. High on the wall, he was well above that. Still maintaining caution, he slipped around one camera, over a sensor grid, and continued down the hall. Several yards down was a similar detection array. Yrt slid past that in the same manner, and continued his rapid progress inwards. Judging by the symetrical layout of the palace, with multiple fronts, the most logical place to keep the lifts wold be in the center of the palace. The location he had in mind was through several walls, but still dead ahead of him about 100 yards to the front.

Yrt stopped for a second and allowed himself to sink into the recesses of his mind. He sensed a group of guards up ahead at about the area that he suspected the lifts were at. That made sense. Guards at the lift. He continued to probe....

His head reeled as he detected an immensly strong psychic presence elsewhere within the palace, the strongest he had ever felt. It was immediately apparent that this was a Veithan, and a strong Veithan at that. The mental signature was coming from far down below. Yrt supressed his curiosity and did not try to probe the Veithan directly. That would lead to instant detection. He gasped as the mental trace of the Veithan disappeared, only to reappear far to his left, near where the main gate was. He felt the strong psychic emenations, and sensed the Veithan begin to move, back towards the side enterance where he had made his entrance. The Veithan was moving remarkably fast.

20 minutes until the King began his speech. Yrt Ztal began to move along the walls again. He had 20 minutes to complete his mission, and if that Veithan continued its current pace, he might have less time than that before he was discovered. He rounded another corner, placing himself that much closer to the central lift complex. 50 yards away. The Veithan was almost to where he had entered. Soon he would be hunted. Speed, he needed speed!

Around another corner. Almost to the lifts. Situational awareness full, free hand on his blaster, he ran on.



Manasan Space
Manasa IV, Government Palace

Through his mind’s eye he was aware of everyone’s mental signatures within the palace and the complex below. The mental presences varied from the familiar and strong presences of his fellow Veithans, to the dull and utterly normal outer guards. The president and his honor guard could barely be sensed, but their signatures were still unable to completely shield themselves from his mind. It was only then, that he felt the faint probe which had originated from within the palace itself. A frown appeared on his lips, the source of the disturbance was far more difficult to pin down than he had expected; His mental efforts shifting, no longer being as overt as before instead concentrating in subtle scans. As he did so, a part of his mind brushed against those of the information analysts located in the complex below. ~There is certainly an intruder within the palace, a good one. I suggest you keep an eye out for his passing, he may not be using the floors.~

He took a deep breath, aware that he held a crucial advantage over his adversary. He knew the palace well, but more importantly he knew where the only points of entry capable of leading down to the complex below. He came to his decision in less than six and half seconds, his mind recoiling within itself in order to give no warning of his actions. The likelihood that he could be tracked by local Manasan forces was slim, but he was not foolish enough to assume that this intruder was Manasan. No, he knew what he had to do and took steps to prepare for the arrival of his unknown guest.

He made his way to where he had to be, using a talent that he had trained to a razor’s edge through years of exertion and action. He willed himself to his destination and simply arrived, mind over matter was the credo of the order. Once there, his eyes closed for a moment as he waited. The intruder had been clever, enough so that he or she had to be given credit. However, the Veithan additions to the internal defenses had not all been active defenses. The ratio had been seventy five to twenty five, and now that the guest moved closer towards his final destination, the number of devices that had to be overcome increased. In the end it was a motion sensor that caught the intruder, the information passed through to internal security monitors and his own stealth suit. His suit had the capability of hacking into wireless protocol systems, and the local palace utilized a fair number of those. He had access however, and thus his suit alerted his neural implants of what the motion sensors had discovered. The data projected in his retina as a thin smile appeared on his lips. Ah, here he came.

His Dark Cloak made him nearly invisible as long as he did not move, light and other EM sensors scattering around it as easily as water hitting his suit. His arms were limp at his sides, fingers gripping his pistols as he waited. A psychic pick-up activated various programs integral to his neural implants, motion prediction software and trajectory analysis information loaded into active memory. He concentrated upon himself, willing a state of readiness and calm to seep within him. His mind quietly attuned itself to dozens of possibilities. In the end, he was as ready as he would ever be. The closer his prey would come, the harder it would be for him to remain hidden from his many eyes. It was inevitable, like light drawn ever closer to a black hole. In the end, nothing escaped and the closer the intruder came to his location the harder it would be for it to get it out. He had no intention of letting the interloper understand the depth of his mistake. And so he waited patiently, a shadow in a darkened room a trap door spider ready to kill.

The target was running now, his presence was no longer in doubt both in his mind and his suit’s internal motion sensors. His eyes focused forward, fingers curling a bit more tightly around his pistols as he waited for the right moment. When it came, he seized it. His body became a blur of motion, reflexes sharpened by familiarity of motion and Veithan technology. His arms moved, both pistols aligning themselves with the incoming target as if in their own volition. He was no longer simply a bodyguard, he was an instrument of death. Body and mind, cybernetics and psionics working in near perfect harmony. Through his talent for precognition, he sought to anticipate the moves of his enemy, through his neural implants motion prediction and trajectory analysis, he mercilessly increased his chances of success. Through years of training, there was no hesitation. There was one shot, followed by a second a third and then a forth. Ruby lances of energy hissing to life, as anti-matter atoms were accelerated to the speed of light and spat towards their targets. He continued to move, infinitely aware that motion was life. It had begun.



50 yards from the lifts.

Yrt Ztal raced along the walls, his mind focused inwards as he felt for the Veithan. He felt the Veithan's presence shift quickly, obivously tleporting again. The Veithan followed an erratic trail, behind Yrt, almost catching up. Then the presecne was in front of him, near the guards he had sensed before, but somewhat apart from them. Yrt analyzed the situation immediately. His adversary was ahead of him in the main lift complex. Because he was removed from the guards, he was not with them, probably hiding.

Yrt did not hesitate. He knew that any hesitation would be registered by the Veithan. He could not seem cautious, he could not seem circumspect. He had to throw himself into the battle. He could not hope to surprise his opponent, but he had nothing to lose by coming in at full speed, and everything to lose by waliking in slowly. As anyone trained in personal combat knew, motion was life.

10 yards.

He deactivated the finger-grips on his right hand, and unslung his rifle, cradling it to his shoulder, his right finger already on the trigger. His left hand still gripped the wall. Ahead he could see the main lift champer. It had a high ceiling with a large ornate chandelier hanging from it. Apart from being functional, as the center of the palace this room also server a decorative purpose. To the right of the chamber the lifts stood ready, 5 guards posted nearby. To the far left he felt the presence that haunted him. He had no time to feel fear. He was there.

Leaping with all his strength, he deactivated his finger grips off the left wall and leaped towards the top of the opening, using his rifle to keep his balance by equalizing weight. His left arm looped around, grabbing the wall to the top of the passage he had just emerged from. An antimatter bolt smashed into the wall he had just left, vaporizing stone. As his left arm grabbed the wall, his huge amount of momentum swung him around until his body was above his left hand, his feet against the wall. His legs absorbed the impact. With a twitch of his left hand his grips were deactivated as he pushed off the wall, flying towards the chandelier in the center of the room. Two more bolts smashed into the ceiling behind him. His left arm was outstretched to grip onto the chandelier, his right arm with the rifle was moving quickly. 5 shots snapped off. 5 guards fell dead. He hit the chandelier, and swung forward, another antimatter bolt ripping through the space he had just occupied.

Yrt could not see his opponent. The man was obivously wearing a stealth-suit, similar to his, but of much higher quality. However, he could see the direction the bolts were coming from, although the man was moving. He released the chandelier, spinning into space. In one motion, he reslung his rifle and brought his two pistols out, already tracking towards where he had last seen his opponent. He got off three shots before he hit the ground. Tucking and rolling, he slid a full yard before he was able to regain his footing, and he was up and running in an instant. His opponent was now on the other side of the chamber, running sideways, roughly counterclockwise around the large circular room. Yrt matched him, running counterclockwise, as blasts snapped back and forth.




Manasan Space
Manasa IV, Government Palace

Avery had entered a hyper-aware state induced by his own mental abilities and the neural implants that functioned in harmony with his mind. He was extremely well aware of the fact that thousandths of a second could make the difference between victory and defeat, life and death. His initial barrage of four shots had missed, each shot within a hair’s breath of the others. Each shot that missed hissed passed their intended target and slammed into the walls with frightening ferocity. If his mind was not so totally concerned with his adversary, he might have felt irritation. Instead, his pistols followed his target cybernetics correcting for the mistakes of his first shots and compensating for the odd movements of his target.

He was moving with predatory grace, his body an extension of his mind. When his target jumped towards the chandelier, his arms tracked him motion prediction and trajectory analysis suggesting a possible miscalculation. When the target used its left arm to grip the chandelier and used his right arm to move and fire its rifle, he saw an opening. The five guards were not fools and had not clustered together, and due to this simple fact forced the perpetrator to waste precious time as he fired and then had to move the barrel of the rifle to reacquire another target. He was not concerned with the lives of the Manasan guards, and paid no interest to them as they died. Instead, his pistols were brought to bear on the stationary target hanging from the chandelier. Time like speed, was life. He fired, the first ruby beam followed by another and another. He squeezed of six shots in less than two and half seconds, all aimed at his target.

His target had managed to somehow still remain alive, and as he fell and spinning into space he noticed another possible mistake. The first was the predictable trajectory as his target fell, and secondly his hesitation to drop the rifle instead of trying to resling it over his shoulders. His pistols fired once more, four shots sent towards his irritating prey within the span of a breath. The target fell, his shots going relatively wide as he had to deal with his constant assault against him. He broke into a practiced series of tumbles and rolls that to an observer, would have seemed to be some sort of ballet or dance. His target had made it to the other side of the chamber and was orbiting around him as he attempted to do the same to him.

It was then, that he decided that he no longer wished to play the game. Ruby beams continually snapped against his target, and to his credit his opponent was far better than he had expected. Even with his boosted reflexes and cybernetic enhancements, each shot got ever closer towards him. One in particular had been frighteningly inspired, managing to catch a good chunk of his dark cloak. It had channeled the energy of the blast, scattering much like it did light. Nonetheless, Dark Cloaks were not shields and were not expected to take punishment. A third of his cloak was now inoperative, unable to maintain the optical illusion that the rest of it performed. His mind lashed out, spreading outwards with the suddenness of a supernova. The chandelier which his target had used moments before, and that he had peppered with fire was ripped out of the ceiling and pushed in a forty five degree angle towards this target. Telekinesis was not one of his strengths. He did not have fine control over objects, but he was a prime and more than capable of giving any object frightening velocity. If his pistols were not enough to kill his target, he would use the entire room as a weapon. Furniture and decorations, everything in the room that was not the walls themselves or the rapidly cooling bodies of the five dead guards began to accelerate towards his enemy. If nothing else, broken bones had a tendency of slowing people down.



Yrt did not allow himself to panic, although a lesser man would have. He had encountered worthy opponents before, but this Veithan was beyond anything he had ever seen. He was amazed at his luck thus far. Despite his uncontrolled tumble through the air, the Veithan had missed each shot, each bolt having missed by maybe an inch. Maybe less.

Yrt's objective in this engagement changed. Survival was now his primary goal. Somehow he had to last long enough to escape from this deadly foe and still make his way down the lift to the King. One of his shots had been lucky enough to score the cloak that the bodyguard was wearing. Yrt now knew two important things. First, he knew where is opponent was. The clear visual indication was far superior to his vague mental impressions. Second, he knew the man did not carry a personal shielding unit like the one Yrt had. A new flurry of anitmatter bolts came streaking towards him.

Jerking wildly, he did his best to dodge the stream of bolts that came pounding towards him. He had just recieved his neural implants recently, but he could no longer imagine life without them. They were too damn useful. He could feel the gunner across the room, feel the angle of the gun, feel the timing of the bolts. He had to move before the bolts were even fired, a difficult feat at best. But he tried. Juking to the side and down, he ducked under the first bolt, then threw himself in the other direction to avoid the next burst. He had stopped firing, so intent was he on staying alive. More blasts flicked by and then he was hit.

A bolt glanced by his side, clipping Yrt's personal shield. The shield flickered and held at greatly diminsihed strength. The force of the impact was strong enough to send him flying. He landed in a heap, fully expecting the next bolt to end his life. The next shot never came. The opponent was still moving, but slower, his pistols at his sides. What would make him stop attacking like this?

The answer became all to clear when he heard a groaning above his head as the chandelier ached to free itself of its supports. Around the room, any object not tied down slowly lifted off the ground. Telekinesis. The man stood there, deep in concentration. Obviously he did not specialize in telekinesis, or else he would have been doing this effortlessly. As it was, the Veithan himself no longer presented a threat. But the several dozen objects around the room were of primary concern. Yrt reholstered his blasters and drew out 3 orb grenades. He quickly flicked the fuses to 1 second each. Then the objects came.

Motion was life.

Yrt hurled himself forward, towards the center of the room. The objects coming from more oblique angles would end up behind him, but he was headed right for the ones in front of him. He prayed that his personal shield had enough power left in it to absorb some of the blows. Under normal circumstances, the shield would be able to deflect physical missiles like this easily, but after the beating it had just taken, Yrt was afraid of every last candlestick.


A painting flashed by his face. A vase deflected off his shield and smashed into the ground behind him. The chandelier above him followed his progress, still straining to be freed of its supports. Yrt threw his grenades, praying that his strategy would work.The first went flying towards the lifts, aiming to blow the door so he could have access to the shaft downward. The second towards his opponent, in an attempt to interrupt his concentration and maybe, maybe, inflict some damage. The third straight ahead of himself. He hoped to have the blast clear a path through the flying debris. He threw them hard, guessing that since they were traveling fast, the Veithan would be unable to catch them and throw them back at him. Well, he could catch them, of course. But hopefully not within the 1 second that the fuses allowed.

A flying chair clipped his shield, and the shield popped and went dead. 1 second passed. The grenades went off.



Manasan Space
Manasa IV, Government Palace

He was committed to his action, his will exerted on the physical world with obvious results. His opponent was of unusual caliber, and in the pit of his stomach an icy chill was born irritation spreading through his body. It was not often that someone resisted him thus, and he was looking forward to killing this man. Nonetheless, a stalemate was something that he was willing to settle upon. Every second that his target spent here dancing with him, meant a second that he was not doing damage. It was a compromise he could live with.

Time was relative in his mind, his current state manifesting in a manner that seemed to imply that the world around him was constantly slowing down. In truth, his mental perceptions were speeding up beneath his desire and the abilities granted to him by his implants. His anti-matter spreads were being avoided for the most part, and for that his enemy deserved praise. Each shot would have at least wounded a lesser man, but it quickly became apparent to him that his enemy was heavily boosted, perhaps almost as much as he was. Veithan science was capable of many things, but it was not alone in the known galaxy. There were many nations that were capable of toying with cybernetics. This man was certainly not Manasan, or if he was he was certainly not using Manasan technology.

His eyes narrowed as the sole bolt that managed to make contact with his slippery prey met an unseen resistance, the shield flickering to life as it deflected the bolt and absorbed the energy that would have gutted his prey. A personal shield? He did not allow the thought to continue, realizing his mistake almost immediately. He should have pressed the attack, but instead he let the irritating building within him get the best of him. His options switching, the desire to break every bone in his targets body overcoming proper tactical doctrine. He chastised himself mentally, reminding himself that against this enemy he could not afford many mistakes.

His telekinesis was a brute force approach, utilizing raw talent and natural psychic strength rather than practice and years of study. He turned the room into his weapon, accelerating the chandelier towards his target after he had ripped it from its supports. There was no subtlety involved; there was no gentle lifting or precise controlling of the objects. It was as if an invisible hurricane had suddenly materialized in the room, accelerating various objects quickly all aimed towards their intended target. Each object was intended to smash and destroy, breaking bones and bruising muscles. His target however, apparently had other ideas. They always did.

His targets motion was puzzling, by hurtling himself forwards towards the center of the room he separated himself from the paintings and vases that decorated the room’s perimeter, but he brought himself closer to the heavier and potentially more lethal furniture that was placed near the center. He was not about to complain, instead guiding various chairs and what passed as a sofa towards his prey. He had no fine control, but at the right angles it would not make much of a difference. As the chandelier fell, his mind pushed it a bit harder and towards the center, trying to adjust in a basic manner for his target’s change in position.

The prey was up to something, an icy chill running down his back as his mind anticipated the threat before his target had acted. Nonetheless, knowing that there was a threat and recognizing it were two separate concepts. It was then that he saw the motions of his adversary, the objects tossed towards their target with mixed effects. A master in telekinesis would have neatly juggled the objects and returned them towards his enemy; he had seen the gifted keep track of over a hundred distinct objects without much trouble. He was not one of those people, and thus he relied exclusively on the immense power his birth right allowed him. The grenades were not intercepted directly, but they had to try and reach their destination through an ever closing gap of furniture moving directly towards his enemy. The telekinetic force that was pushing the objects forward, held measurable force. He could not throw the grenades back at him, but without intending to do so he managed to deflect them. Had the grenades been primed for longer time, they would have been totally ineffective. Since there was a mere one second delay, the trio of explosions which blossomed threatened both hunter and hunted.

There was precious little time for him to react, he could have teleported behind his target and ended his miserable existence once and for all, but that would have taken time. It was time that he did not have, and thus he had trust his instincts. As the concussion and fragment component of the grenades expanded, he willed himself back to his starting point. He managed to leave the room, as the edges of the grenades effects reached him. He reappeared before the elevator in the transmission level of the underground complex, his neural implants reporting that his suit had suffered over a dozen impacts but not breached. His Dark Cloak however had not fared so well. The cloak had simply taken too much punishment, the concussive effects of the grenades and various small fragments had managed to tear into the fabric, disturbing the harmony between cells. The optical illusion field was disabled, and its secondary function that of refracting fire around him was destroyed.

He looked down towards his suit, and ran and diagnostic, the stealth suit had been designed to be resilient against hostile fire and had managed to suffer little more than superficial damage. All of its capabilities were in the green. He took a deep breath, his right arm moving in a sudden movement a telekinetic ram slamming into the wall at his right, cracking the surface and sending a roar of sound down the hall. ~Avery, are you alright?~ the mental contact from one of the familiar minds brought him back to reality, his response as controlled as always. ~I am fine. The Cloak is shredded however, whoever the hell this guy is. He is good, damned good. I will deal with him however. He won’t get much further.~ There was no reply. The information analyst had felt the mood in Avery’ mind when their minds talked to the other and had decided that it was best if silent agreement was utilized at that time.

The tattered cloak still hung about his shoulders and over his head, a deep breath taken as he decided that it was time to lay down the rules. His mind widened, a simple telepathic message hissed upwards attempted to be carried to his elusive prey. He had no idea if the message would be received or not, but he did not care. He had to say it. ~You should quit while you are still ahead.~ the message was simple, and as he finished sending it a single psychic-pick up activated his micro-gestalt. It was an expensive piece of cybernetics, and its usage held with it possible risks. Nonetheless, the ability to boost his psionic powers was extremely useful. He had not used this since his last action. He hated magic users. Under the influence of the gestalt, his mind expanded internally. His head tilting upwards, glancing at the elevator doors before him. His arms moved, clips exchanged in his pistols as he reloaded and tucked away the semi-spent clips. His suit plugged into the internal defense systems of the palace. His people had rigged the elevator shafts with incendiary explosives, aware that it was a prime location for penetration. Those explosive even now lay dormant. Their slumber would not last long however, and when they detonated they would cleanse he shaft in fire. The explosions would not be enough to harm the structure of the shaft, but anything that was inside the shaft at the time would be hard pressed to survive. All he needed to do now was wait until he felt that annoyingly familiar presence and flip the switch. He took a step back and then another and another. If his prey survived the shaft, he would be waiting. He had just the location in mind. His smile was frightening to behold.



Yrt Ztal looked around, dazed. What the hell had happened? His grenades had been right on target until the last moment, when some unseen force deflected them. He moaned. His adversary's telekinesis had been strong enough to deflect the bombs from their proper targets, but the effects were not all bad.

The grenade he had sent towards his rival had made it most of the way there before stopping in midair. His opponent was gone. Yrt did not doubt for an instant that his opponent was alive. The Veithan was clearly not in the room, and well out of the range of Yrt's ability to detect using his neural implants. But still, on the ground in front of him, he saw the tattered remains of a Dark Cloak. At least his opponent was visible now.

The grenade he had sent forward to clear debris was actually the one that had saved him. It had been deflected upward towards the incomng chandelier, the blast of detonation hurling the chandelier away from him. Had the Veithan been pulling on it a second longer it would have struck him, severely harming him, maybe even killing him. As it was, the chandelier lay on the ground several feet away, a heap of twisted metal. That had been lucky.

He had not been so lucky with the third grenade, however. That one he had sent towards the lifts, but it had been knocked back fairly quickly. A sofa that had come flying between himself and the grenade had abosrbed most of the impact, but it sent the sofa flying at him with massive force, pinning him to the ground. That's where he was now.

With an effort, he lifted an arm of the sofa, able to slide himself out form under it. He felt a dull pain in his chest. The wind had been knocked out of him, and from the feel of it, he had a few bruised ribs. The pain was not an issue, but he would be slower now. He felt a touch on the back of his neck, but when he turned to look, no one was there. A voice echoed in his head. "You should quit while you are ahead."

He wished he could. But he was under contract, and the Krell lived and died by their contracts. Died was most likely at this point, but he had no choice.

He stood up, taking stock of his surroundings. The room was a mess, damaged furniture everywhere, huge black scorch marks from where his grenades went off. He checked his supplies. 6 knives, a mage blade, 15 grenades (8 incendiary), two blasters and a rifle at full nearly full charge. He was glad he was using energy weapons, not projectile. A bit less powerful, perhaps, but much larger clips. He took a deep breath and walked towards the lifts.

The one he wanted was obvious at first sight. Larger, more heavily armored, and deactivated. "All that security for nothing," he thought, as he pulled out the mage blade. He moved slowly, beginning at the top corner of the door and scoring the metal in a large rectangle, as large as he could make it. He could not afford the time wasted by scrambling through small holes. When he had outlined his improvised door, he thrust the blade in, making a full cut. The door fully outlined, he kicked as hard as he could. With a wrench of protest, the large metal pannel fell down into the shaft, banging along the walls as it went down, finally coming to rest on top of the deadened lift some 100 yards below him. He stepped forward, peering down the shaft to plan his best route down. This was the time for caution. He activated his finger grips. The sides of the shaft were relativel smooth, with a few areas where machinery stuck out. Yrt would head for those areas, where he would have better footholds. He relaxed, using his neural implants to incresae his sight and looking at every countour of the wall. Then he saw them. Several small lumps, hidden within the machinery on the side of the shaft. Unremarkable in and of themselves, he sensed danger from them.

He leaned back to think. Lumps that caused him to sense danger on the inside of the elevator shaft. What could they be? Some sort of security device, obviously. One of the lumps was right across the shaft from where he had made his improvised door. He stared at it, trying to feel what it was. The answer came soon enough, not from his mental augmentation, but from logic. It could not be some sort of projectile or energy ray trap. If it was, the thing would have fired on him the second he had gained access to the shaft. Instead, this was something that would activate once he was inside, something that was incapalbe of actually firing at him, but still capable fo causing harm. A bomb. What kind of bomb, though? Plasma or fragmentation or incendiary? He thought on that. Incendiary. Definately incendiary. The other ones would cause too much damage to the lift, something that the Manasans would not want to do. An incendiary bomb would be quick and efficient, filling the shaft with fire, roasting anything and everything inside.

He had to deactivate the bombs, but could not risk entering the shaft itself. He still hadnt spotted the passive alert systems that would trigger the bombs detonation, and he was not going to walk blindly into a loaded shaft. He backed far away from the lift to the back wall of the room and unslung his rifle, pointing it directly at the first bomb. He stopped and rethought things for a second. Then he laid down on the ground in a more steady position and set the rifle to full power. He would empty his entire clip in one very powerful shot. The rifle would be worthless from that point on, but with enough power he could blast through the bomb's casing, and heat the incendiaries to their flash point, activating the bomb. He targeted carefully, knowing he would only get one shot and fired.

The rifle round set the bomb off. With a roar, fire poared out of the elevator shaft, quickly rising. From Yrt's position on the floor and well back, most of the flame missed him. The heat made his eyes water, but it was all over in a second. Then the other explosions started. The heat from the first blast had not just come out into the room, it had flooded up and down the lift shaft, igniting the other bombs to their flash points. This time, all the heat was channeled up and down the shaft, with only minimal heat escaping from the door (OOC: this does make sense from the standpoint of physics since the rest of the bombs are above or below the door, and the narrow shaft would channel the explosions up and down.).

The shaft was cleared, but now Yrt could not get near it. The extreme heat from the expolsives still permeated the shaft. A wind of hot air came blowing out of the shaft as convection currents raced the spare heat away. The shaft would cool, and quickly, but it would still take more time than Yrt wanted to give it. As much as 15 minutes before it was safe to venture down, probably closer to 10. The King's speech was set to start in 15 minutes. This was going to be close. Too close.

Guards started to flood the room, reacting to the noise of battle they had heard earlier. Yrt crouched in the corner, his stealth suit still active. As long as he remained motionless and no one looked directl at him, he would be fine. He just had to wait now.



Manasan Space
Manasa IV, Government Palace

The immolation of the mines was alerted to him via his suit’s wireless protocols the activation of the mines met with a silent sigh. Well, there went that idea. Nonetheless, the mines had been in place to deal with fools or the unwary. He knew by know well enough that his enemy was neither. He continued to walk down the narrow corridor, coming to a stop at a certain point and moving towards his right. His body pressed against a wall as he considered his plan. He could not see any flaws in it, but he did not fool himself into thinking that there were none. His opponent had managed to evade his attacks at every turn. This time however, it would be different. This time, he held nearly all the cards in his favor.

The truth was however that his plan revolved around location, and that was perhaps his greatest strength. The underground complex beneath the palace was controlled and regulated by the royal guards and the royal family; as such its capabilities and layout were not something that his prey would know about before hand. He on the other hand was well aware not only of the capabilities of the complex but was well aware of the dimensions of every path. He had no intention of giving any hint of his plan, and would not use his mind to focus outwards. The probability that his inner strength could act as a beacon to him was low, but he was not taking any chances. He did not need to.

This part of the floor was deserted of Manasan and Veithan personnel, the rest of the Veithan response forces were located well behind him, powered armor suits ready to repel any penetration. He frowned, reminding himself that he had never before failed to secure an objective. This bastard would not be the first stain his flawless record. He exhaled softly, willing the irritation within him to a far corner of his mind. He focused inwards, tapping his gift for precognition as he tried to glance past the veil of realities and see the futures that fate offered him. As he did so, a mental request was answered and the lighting in this section of the floor dimmed by fifty percent. He did not plan on using his eyes to find his prey, he had other means at his disposal.

This part of the complex had been mirrored after a starship, or so he believed. The similarities in the architecture were similar to the homegrown Manasan capital ships. Silence was absolute as he waited patiently for his adversary, the long and dark hallways of his current home offering an irresistible invitation. His enemy wanted the King, and in order to reach him he had to come through this place. A maze composed of fifteen meter long segments joined to various intersections. Some hallways led nowhere, to dead ends which existed purely out of stylistic reasons. Others led to closed doors which led to abandoned rooms. Only one path led towards the other half of the floor, the path that led towards the broadcasting area where even now the King prepared to give his speech. His enemy would not even manage to die within sight of that.

Without his Dark Cloak he was no longer invisible to the eyes, but his stealth suit made him nearly so to most forms of sensors. He was not moving, his back pressed neatly to a wall to the right of an intersection of halls. His mind was quiet, focused inwardly as his suit performed its symbiotic task with the systems around it. It was all a matter of time now. One way or another, this was as far as the intruder would go.



The wind had stopped blowing out from the shaft. That meant the temperature was the same in the shaft as it was in the room. Thank god for a good ventilation system. It would still be stiflingly hot in the shaft, but that was something Yrt could deal with.

The guards had left the room a minute or two ago. Yrt had initially been puzzled by this, until he remembered the comm he still had, picked up from the first guard he had killed at the enterance. He reactivated it and listened to the chatter and heard the orders being relayed. The guards had moved out of the main lift chamber to secure other areas of the palace. No one had detected him with his stealth suit still on, so they had assumed he was gone, and had went to look for him. A standard compliment of guards was placed around the lifts. Five of them, jsut like before.

Yrt waited until none of the guards was looking right at him, then drew his pistols. The guards were oblivious to the silent, invisible figure in the corner. Yrt slowly targeted, 2 guards in his sights.He fired, targeted, fired, targeted, fired. The guards dropped. His comm crackled. "What was that!?" He had taken out the guards in front of him, and now more were coming in from the rear. Time for the lift. He ran lightly across the floor and leaped into the shaft throught he hole he had cut. He allowed himself to fall for several yards before activating his finger-grips and grabbing the wall. He slowed and stopped. The shaft was dim, unlit, but the neural implants had augmented his vision enough for him to see just fine. He looked down, spotting the disabled lift below him. Slowly, he made his way down until he was standing on top of the lift.

The metal was blackened, the door from above had warped from the heat and was lying on its side against the wall. That wasn't important. Yrt focused on the lift car itself. He drew his mage blade and cut open a hole in the top of the lift. As he made his last cut, he activated the finger grips on his fee hand to grab onto the section he had cut out so it wouldnt fall inside. He lifted up the one-yard-square sheet of metal that had recently been the ceiling of the lift car and slid through the opening, again landing lightly to cut the sound he was making. He turned to face the lift door. Through this door were the passages that would lead him to the King. He pushed the "open door" button. No repsonse, as expected, but worth a try.

Again, he drew his mage blade and began to slowly cut out a door for himself. He made it as large as he could. Again, he could not afford to waste time by scrambling through small holes. He latched onto his improvised door with his finger grips, pulled it inside the car and slowly lowered it to the floor. Still, not a sound. Time for caution. He resheathed his mage blade, then took four orb grenades out of his thigh pouches. He moved them to smaller compartments under his wrists. That way they could be in his hands in an instant, without the necessity of reaching down or reholstering his pistols.

Everything was secured. He drew his pistols and felt down the hall with his mind. He sensed threats, some close and some far away. He could feel the Veithan again, but the impression was faint. Either the Veithan was nearly dead, or he was focused within to avoid being detected. Yrt knew that his opponent was not nearly dead. This encounter would be different from the last. No wide-open areas here. This would be a battle of stealth and detection, reactions and resourcefulness. Yrt had all of these, but so did his opponent.

Yrt slowly stepped out of the lift car, seeing just as well in this dim light as he had in the lift shaft. His pistols drawn, he tried to feel for the sudden increase in danger that would tell him his opponent was on the move. The difference of less than a second could mean the difference between success and failure, life and death. 5 minutes left until the King's speech went live. Focused and ready, hardly daring to breathe, Yrt advanced down the dim passage.



Manasan Space
Manasa IV, Government Bunkers, Level 7

There was no time for celebration as his adversary was finally felt not with his mind, but by the passive sensors that dotted the underground complex. Immediately, he was aware that the suit which his opponent wore was of surprising quality. Nonetheless, the disturbances that his approach made upon the air molecules in the hall were detected by motion sensors. The information was then uploaded into the internal security system of the complex, which in turn was passed to his stealth suit’s internal sensors and finally projected upon his retina through his neural implants. His target was cautious, approaching at a steady even pace. The man was not a fool; it was a pity he would not live much longer.

He let his target approach, aware of his passing much like an expert marksman as he hunted his prey. It was not enough to have surprise; it was not enough to simply prevail. He wanted to dictate where his target would live and die. Besides, his opponent had already proven to be capable. He was not taking any chances this time, and so he waited patiently. The red dot consuming everything in his mind as it approached what would be if all went well, his final destination. His back remained to the same wall, his breathing slow and constant as he waited for the right moment. When it came, he seized it.

There was a reason why the architecture of the floor resembled those of a starship so closely. Manasa was not the richest fiefdom in the area, but it was also not the poorest and their technological capabilities were substantial. It was the pride of Manasa that the core of their warships were home built. It was true that they were not comparable to major power in quality, but they were theirs. Manasan ships utilized internal localized force fields in order to slow intruders and create kill zones. They were also handy in isolating areas of the vessel exposed to vacuum. That technology was now employed in some of their most secure facilities. The bunker complex beneath the palace happened to be one of those facilities. Avery now used that technology to his benefit.

When the red dot was centered in the intersection before his own, his mind flipped a switch, the command carried from his neural implants to his suit and from his suit to the security network of the complex itself. Force fields flickering to life to the right and left of the intruder with a whispered hiss as the air ionized. With the formation of the fields, escape to the left or right was theoretically impossible. Within three quarters of a second he was moving, pushing off the

When the red dot was centered in the intersection before his own, his mind flipped a switch, the command carried from his neural implants to his suit and from his suit to the security network of the complex itself. Force fields flickering to life to the right and left of the intruder with a whispered hiss as the air ionized. With the formation of the fields, escape to the left or right was theoretically impossible. Within three quarters of a second he was moving, pushing off the wall and turning to his left his pistols aligning themselves by second nature. He peeked from behind the wall, fifteen meters before his target, a thin smile on his lips as he pulled the triggers on his pistols. Six ruby lances of energy were created in the span of two and half seconds, each traveling at hypersonic speeds as a handful of anti-matter atoms were accelerated. He was not shooting where his enemy was; he was shooting at where he should be. His neural implants had by now begun to try and adapt to the target’s reflexes, motion prediction software updated to match this slippery foe.

As quickly as his attack had come, it had gone. Within a second of having fired, he had ducked behind cover once more. His eyes closed, his mind widening for a moment beneath the micro-gestalt as he willed himself to a new location. He vanished, reappearing fifteen meters behind his target, out of sight behind a wall. He had practiced this form of attack, he did not expect his enemy to be able to adapt. And if he did…well, he would have to be creative then.



The dull sense of threat in the back of Yrt's mind became a scream of alarm and he knew his enemy was acting. He was currently in the middle of an intersection with openings to the front, the back, the left, and the right. He felt the Veithan come into motion to the front of him. Yrt dived to the side as the Veithan spun into view and ran straight into a forcefield. His face numbed as the energy field bombarded the nerves on his skin, but it only lasted a second before he was thrown away from the forcefield.

But even as he jumped to the side, the Veithan was firing, leading Yrt through his prescient knowledge of Yrt's action. The blasts streaked right for the shield that Yrt had thrown himself into. They would have caught up with him exactly had the shield not been in the way, but his contact with the shield made him fly away from his previous trajectory as the shots that would have intercepted his body perfectly hit and overloaded the shield.

Yrt flew through the air, propelled by the force of the energy field he had encountered and hit another field behind him. This field, too, threw him, and Yrt flew back across the hall towards the first shield, a human tennis ball in a game played by the random energy interactions within the fields. When the first bolts had hit the energy field, they had overloaded the localized power grid and it had blinked out of existance. Yrt, falling towards it, was throw to the ground in the area behind where the shield had operated. the rest of his opponent's antimatter bolts pounded into the hall behind him, but Yrt was safely out of his opponents line of fire.

Again, luck had saved him. While the Veithan could anticipate his actions, the combination of his blind leap and the random reflections off the unstabilized energy fields made his movements over the course of that short encounter far too unpredictable for the Veithan to anticipate his exact location. He was burned in a few places where the ionization trail from the bolts had touched him, but he had avoided a direct impact. He moaned, in pain, and searched for his enemy again. This time, he felt the threat coming from somewhere behind him, but again the trace was fuzzy. The Veithan was deep in thought again.

Yrt picked himself up off the floor. His stealth suit flickered, somewhat damaged by the energy discharges from the shields. He crouched on the ground, pistols out, breathing heavily. His mind raced. This entire complex was a huge grid, with countless intersections where he could be ambushed in that manner. He could take out the shield units with grenades before he approached them, but he wouldnt have enough grenades to make it all the way through this hellish maze.

The energy field across from him was still active. Yrt fired a shot at it. The bolt hit the shield and bounced almost straight up, hitting the ceiling. The swirling energy made the reflection angles random. That had saved him from the Veithan's precognition, and would also save him if he fired toward a shield in the future. The bolt would not bounce right back at him if he hit it square on. And he was in no danger of being hit from riccochets from his opponents bolts, which were powerful enough to take out the shields. He could hope that every encounter went the same way, with his opponent unable to track his bouncing off the shields, but that wouldnt; work. Even if his opponent never hit him, an unlikely proposition to begin with, Yrt couldnt take the punishment of being thrown around randomly by energy fields every 15 meters.

It was time to play his last card. He reached into one of his thigh pouches and pulled out a few grenades. Unlike the rest of the grenades he had been using, which were black, these were a livid green. He pulled his cloak up close to him, covering his mouth. He pushed in the seals, and soon he was breathing through the filters in his stealthsuit. Taking the grenades, he activated two of them, then rolled them both down the hall he had just been walking in, one in either direction. A few seconds later, they began to spray poison gas.

He had kept these until the last, hoping to use them to kill the King. A lungfull would incapacitate any opponent. He had two more left, which he would probably have to use to spread the poison gas if he got outside of the range of their effect. He now had 13 grenades left: 2 poison, 8 incendiary, and 3 smoke. He hadnt noticed any kind of breathing filters on his opponent, and hoped this would force the Veithan away from him, as long as he stayed within his cloud of cover. Yrt himself would be fine as long as the filters on his suit continued to operate.

Yrt reached down and pulled out a smoke grenade, rolling it down the hall he intended to traverse. It burst. Yrt could cleraly make out the force fields that were in effect by the way the smoke rebounded away from him. A red light on his stealth suit informed him that the filters were now working, actively filtering out the gas. He had made a killzone for himself, and hoped it would stretch far enough to reeach the King. Hell, if there were no airtight doors between his current position and the King's broadcast chamber, those two grenades might even do his job. But that was a stupid assumption to make, he had to move forward.

He stepped back into the hall he had just left, heading in the same direction as he had been before the encounter with the Veithan. He felt more danger ahead. That must mean more guards, and where there were guards, the King was sure to be. 3 mintues left. Pistols drawn, he continued his slow advance towards the King, under the cloud of haze and silent death his grenades had created. He hoped this would protect him until he reached his target because he was finally out of tricks.



Manasan Space
Manasa IV, Government Bunker, Level 7

He had missed, but a part of him had almost expected it. Nonetheless, he was growing weary of the game a part of him demanded that he kill this intruder for his annoying habit of surviving attack after attack. His fingers gripped his pistols a bit tighter, his mind coiling within it as he prepared to try a more direct approach. He would turn, and apply his gestalt enhanced mind to hitting his target and everything within the hallway with a telekinetic ram of force. He had tried not to soil himself by having to act so directly upon his target, but there were times when brute force was simply the only option. Unfortunately, his would be victim had made a move that had saved his life but doomed his mission.

The moment that the internal sensors picked up the poisonous substance, alarms blared to life in the internal defense system. The alarms conveyed to his mind via his neural implants. An automatic biohazard containment system kicked into action. The hall around his adversary was sealed by glimmering force fields preventing any escape. Immediately afterwards, a transporter protocol kicked in his eyes widening as he tried to make contact with the minds of the Veithan information analysts which were tied to the main system. ~Can you disable the protocol?~ His thoughts were straight to the point, laced with irritation and determination. He did not want his target to escape him. ~I am working on it Avery, but its hard. We are in the system proper, but this sequence is hard coded into the system. Damn it, I can’t stop it. The system is having a hard time locking in to the target, but that is due to his stealth suit. It won’t be much longer before the internal sensors compensate.~

Avery grit his teeth for a moment, aware that this was victory but not the victory that he had wanted. His mind concentrating on a solution, his eyes widening slightly as his mind made contact once more. ~Alright, if you can’t override the sequence can you modify the drop point? Can you make it so that the target and biohazard are transported near the Peace of the Gun?~ There was silence, but his mind was partly linked to the analysts and he could feel her emotions as she worked. ~stand by…~ A second passed and then another, the frustration projected from the mind of his partner answering him before the actual thoughts did. ~the Peace of the Gun is too far away. I have made other arrangements. I hope the intruder can swim.~ Avery blinked and then, smiled.

The hallway and its guest were eventually seized within the grip of Manasan transporters, the technology being rather straight forward. The range of the transporters was limited, but more than able to pick any point within a considerable distance from the city. The final destination chosen by the Veithan analyst had been the center of a lake, roughly fifteen meters above the surface. It was there where the intruder and the poison which his grenades had scattered appeared. After that, gravity would do its work. In the government bunkers, Avery Cook sighed softly as the signature of his enemy vanished. He waited until the internal sensors had cleared and shown all green before moving. Hi eyes closed, as he willed himself to the first floor of the elevator by the elevator. He looked around, kneeling and picking up the tattered remains of his Dark Cloak. It was unlikely that Manasan technology could replicate a Dark Cloak, but he was not taking any chances. He disappeared again, reappearing in the same spot he had vacated moments before.

He walked down a parallel path, eventually moving to the same hall that his enemy had used. He came to a door, pressing a series of keys until the correct code was entered. The door slid open, a hulking figure placed thirty meters before him. It was a Veithan “Hammerhead” a powered armor juggernaut that along with its five siblings had been his backup. He moved past them, nodding to them as he moved and telepathically informing them that the intruder had been dealt with but to stay on guard nonetheless. He continued to walk, eventually coming before another door. He moved within after entering the proper pass code, the door sliding open to reveal half a dozen armored royal guards and four non-armored guards dressed in their traditional uniform. When they noticed who he was, the armored ones relaxed even as the unarmored continued flanking their King. The door closed behind him and he moved to the side. The speech would start any minute now…



Yrt gasped in shock as the glow of the teleporter fields surrounded him. A second later, he was poised in midair over the middle of a lake. With a strangeld cry, he fell, his arms flailing. He hit the water and began to sink. He quickly reholstered his pistols, deactivated his stealth suit, and kicked his way to the surface. He came up gasping and looked around. A local fishing boat was heading towards him, the crew waving to him. Treading water was made painful by his bruised ribs, but he managed to hold on until the ship came and picked him up.

"Hey there, stranger! How'd you make it out this far into the lake?" one of the crewmen asked. Yrt just groaned. How indeed? He had been so close until he had been hit by the most underhanded trick in the book.

"Hey, Bill, take a look at this!" Another crewman was calling. The Manasan fishers huddled around a small holovid, and watched the live broadcast as the Manasan King declared the new alliance and subjugation under the Veithans. After the holocast, one of the crewman came back over to Yrt.

"I need to get back to Manasa City. Now."

"Well, shucks, we just got out here. We got a whole day's fishin' ahead of us!" Yrt drew his pistols and pointed them at the crewmans face. He was back within the hour.
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Adar Krell watched the Manasan broadcast with an impassive expression locked on his face. He didnt know what had gone wrong. He would have to talk to Yrt about this, assuming the assassin was still alive. For the meantime, he had to do something to save his reputation.
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Three weeks later, the Manasan King was on a triumphant parade around the city. The crowds cheered at the ruler who had brought the Veithans into their midst. It would take months for them to fully realize what their new relationship meant, but for now they were grateful to their new friends from the skies. The cheering turned to screams of horror as twenty different rifle blasts struck the King, each coming from a different rooftop along the square. Manasan security bolted, heading to where the shots had been fired, but all they found were rifles missing one shot from their clip each and wiped of all prints. The Krell never failed to follow through on a contract.
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At about the same time, a new advertisement for the Combine began to circulate:
Can YOUR special operatives go head to head with a Veithan Prime? OURS can! So next time you need special ops work done, remember to call on the Krell Combine: Quality You Can Trust!



And that about does it. Long as hell, I know. Took two posts to fit! Hope you guys liked it.