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Last update: 07.01.02 The small habitat fitted snugly into the rough surface of the asteroid. The Mary of Medici floated in space not too far away from the small outpost. Not to far away from the slim scout vessel, two other ships hovered. One was the bulky craft Nightingale, nothing more but a glorified flying sickbay maintained by Nathan Jackson and Josiah Sanchez. The other was a small, agile combat fighter tagged Texas. It belonged to Vin Tanner. The bounty hunter had decided to join into Larabee's mission after learning about the purpose of the little rescue trip. Ezra heaved himself off the bunk in the sparsely equipped room aboard the Mary that he had occupied during most of the trip. He still felt lousy after the beating he had received in the 'Lion's Den', though the chance of getting a genuine High Guard ship under his control made up for his sour mood. The gambler first had objected to travel with the unusual group, but when he had seen the slim ship in the repair bay, he had changed his mind - the Mary was a prize too good to be passed. Ezra stretched his sore muscles and went off to the ship's galley in search for something to pacify his grumbling stomach. Chris Larabee wasn't in the best of moods. Ever since he had returned from the first meeting with the outpost's commander, the whispering, nagging doubts had grown into screaming voices that warned him about the futility of the mission he had been tricked to accept. On top of it, they had to drag the Nietzschean gambler along that Buck had picked up in the bar. Chris wasn't too pleased about the man's presence aboard his ship. He didn't trust Nietzscheans in general and this one in particular. Everything about Ezra's nice and easygoing facade screamed cheat, and for Chris it was just a matter of time until the slick gambler would sell them to the highest bidder. He should have never given in to Buck's crazy idea. Larabee muttered some curses under his breath as he entered the galley. "Captain Larabee," Ezra's smile was as false as the golden incisor that sparkled in the upper right half of his mouth. "How are you faring today?" "None of your business, Nietzschean," Chris snarled, making no secret of his hostile feelings for the younger man. With a certain satisfaction, he saw Ezra flinching slightly before a mask of indifference fell into place firmly. "Could I interest you in some freshly brewed coffee?" It took the gambler all his years of training to keep himself from running. Larabee was dangerous, hated Nietzscheans with a passion and would probably not hesitate to shoot him if he was provided with a chance, Ezra realised. "You made it?" When the gambler nodded briefly, Larabee hissed: "Not interested." The High Guard Captain helped himself to a sandwich and a fiercely green drink from the autochef, watching Ezra from the corners of his eyes. He didn't miss the quizzical, worried expression that hushed over the Nietzschean's face and smiled to himself. The bastard was scared. Good. They finished their meal in silence. * * * Josiah Sanchez let out a rebel yell and hurled the enemy over his shoulder into a stack of metal barrels. The pile collapsed over the hapless pirate and knocked him out for good. Buck Wilmington flung himself into an attacker, not paying attention to the bleeding cut he had received on his left temple. "Retreat!" Colonel Anderson, head of the pirates screamed on top of his lungs and those of his comrades who were still able to walk move back to the hangar bay, only to learn that their escape route was cut off by even more angry habitat inhabitants and further mercenaries. It was ridiculous - they had raided this outpost several times before, had taken food, goods and slaves. Never ever had the peasants resisted the heavily armed pirates. Never until today. Anderson snarled when he saw a tall, blond man clad in a black uniform. He remembered the uniform from his history classes. "High Guard!" "Surrender or die," Chris wasn't taking any chances, knowing only too well what could happen. Colonel Anderson knew when he had lost. His chest heaved heavily and he felt the sweat trickling down his face. "It's not a good day for dying..." "Buck!" JD happily bounced through the habitat's community room where the festivities for the victory over the pirates took place. The young pilot was enthusiastic and happy that the fight had ended with only a handful of injured on the side of the defenders. Also, Dunne had successfully survived the first real combat situation he had encountered in his young life. "Have you seen Ezra?" "He's down in the prison guarding the pirates," Wilmington informed him. "Some of the settlers were pretty upset and Captain Larabee feared that there would be lynching." "Understandable," JD had heard various horror stories by the people they had protected. "Maybe Ezra would like to have something from the buffet? He skipped breakfast and lunch today." Buck smiled. The kid had a heart of gold despite the ugliness he had to witness and suffer when he had been prisoner of the Nietzscheans. He even had managed to establish some sort of fray companionship with the gambler. "Yeah... That sounds like a plan." JD grabbed a plate and began to gather food. Ezra put up his leather booted feet on the desk in the small office that formed the entrance to the equally small prison section. The few cells were crammed with pirates, some injured. The gambler didn't pay much attention to the inmates. His thoughts were with the unexpected developments of the past two days. Despite the animosities between himself and Captain Larabee, Ezra found himself drawn to the group of individuals. Of course, he knew as well as the rest that their alliance was just temporary, that their ways would part again soon. And once he had stolen the Mary, he'd better get as much space between himself and the High Guards as possible. "Hey, Ezra!" JD's voice startled him out of his thoughts. "Mr. Dunne," the gambler drawled in his pleasant accent and eyed the filled plate that the teenager carried. "What gives me the pleasure of your visit?" "I thought you're hungry," JD smiled. "You thought right," Ezra grinned and reached for the food. "You didn't happen to bring along some libations?" "Uh... The Captain said you could join in for some drinks after your shift. He said he wanted you sober for the watch." "How kind of Captain Larabee to show his concern about my well-being." He couldn't help the sarcasm that seeped into his voice. Trust the dark-clad dark-moody High Guard officer to do everything to make Ezra's life miserable. JD frowned. "He's not that bad, really. When you know him a bit better, you'll like him." Ezra snorted. "I'm not interested to get to know your dear Captain, son." "You'll leave?" The gambler hesitated a moment at the genuine disappointment in the young man's voice. "Well... I intend to survive." "Yes," the Mary's pilot sighed. "Well... I better go back to the others before they start to miss me." "Do that, Mr. Dunne. I'll see you later." The security door closed behind JD and Ezra was alone again. Thoughtfully, he reached for the small, silver hip flask filled with fiery liquor which he always carried with him and took a long swallow. Then he grabbed the plate and wolfed down the meal hungrily. * * * �Outbreak!� The terrified yell of one of the settlers sounded through the corridors and halls of the habitat like a fanfare, promising death and oblivion. In its wake, the pirates swarmed into the community room, heavily armed and firing at everyone who dared to oppose them. Within a few minutes, Anderson and his men had cornered and disarmed the surprised defenders. �Captain Larabee... So we meet again.� The pirate�s leader indicated a bow. �It will be my pleasure to make an example on you and your men to keep these poor, mislead people from ever attempting to oppose me again.� �And how would you do that, Colonel?� Chris queried, shifting in the tight grip of two of Anderson�s henchmen. �You�ll be spaced,� the pirate explained. �Just like in the good old days, you�ll walk the plank. And these imbeciles are going to watch you die.� �You�re nothing but a bloody killer,� Buck leered and received a vicious punch into the stomach. �Shut up, Buck. Now isn�t the time,� Larabee cautioned his friend. For now, all they could do was wait for a chance to launch a surprise attack on their foes. Helplessly, the people of the outpost had to watch how the pirates rampaged in the worst way amongst their fellow citizens, while the men that had been sent to free them where shackled and mistreated brutally before the pirates dumped the half unconscious mercenaries in one corner to wait for the final act. Pain. His world was filled with pain. It didn�t take much imagination to know that his fellow defenders weren�t off any better. The five men were ailing next to him. All except for Ezra. It didn�t take Chris Larabee long to piece together what had happened. The pirates couldn�t possibly freed themselves on their own, even less gained access to the weapon�s chamber. He should have trusted his instincts and left the darned Nietzschean to his fate in Four Corners. Now he was paying the price, together with the men and women who had entrusted their lives into his hands. Ezra congratulated himself. Not only had he managed to get some valuable connections by teaming up with the pirates, but he�d also get the prize in form of the Mary of Medici. He strode through the corridors of the outpost with wide steps, heading for the hangar bay, when he heard the noises from the community room. Cries of anguish from women and children, the muffled sounds of someone getting beaten up. Ezra winced. The pirates were delivering their revenge. The sound of JD�s voice, high pitched with fear, calling out for Wilmington. Ezra slowed down. A mother crying out for her child, Mira. He had taught her a few card tricks only a couple of hours ago. A brilliant child with dark locks and huge blue eyes, he remembered. He could almost imagine her weeping, being torn from her mother... With a shudder, Ezra came to a halt. �Will I be a hero like you one day?� she had asked him with all her innocence and trust. It had humbled him, and at the same time made him sad. Ezra had explained to Mara that there were two types of heroes. �There are the ones who seek a fight and brave in it. Then there are the ones who avoid fights, but would protect their beloved ones no matter the costs.� The gambler knew that he was neither of the two. �And then, there�s the third kind...� he said grimly, taking a long swig from his flask. The third kind. Cowards like himself, people who only were after their own good, using others and leaving them behind when they had outlived their usefulness. Just like Larabee and his group. Or like little Mara. He closed his eyes briefly, trying to shut out the screams and the sounds which kept ringing in his ears, tried to force himself to step forward. He had a prize to gain. �What�s keepin� Ezra?� Vin hissed, carefully moving himself to a more comfortable position. �You think they killed him?� JD wanted to know, clearly scared for the gambler. �Dunno,� Buck whispered back, trying not to raise the attention of the guards. �But he�s sneaky, he�s sure found a way out.� �Sneaky he is,� Chris grumbled and exchanged knowing glances with Buck. His friend and first officer frowned, but before he could answer, Colonel Anderson gave a signal and the commotion in the large room stopped. All of a sudden, it was deadly silent. All Ezra could hear were his heavy boots clanging on the metal floor and his own breathing. Fear gripped his heart. A tiny voice inside him shouted �Your fault... they trusted you and now they�ll die because of you.� His feet refused to take the next step, no matter how much he tried to force himself to go. Ezra stood frozen for a long moment, his face a mask as inside him a myriad controversy feelings battled, his hands trembling almost invisibly as they curled into fists. �Third kind,� it echoed inside his head. �Their blood is on your hands...� With a shattered sigh, he lost the fight against his conscience and gave in to the overwhelming urge to help the people who had become more than mere acquaintances in the course of just a few days. �I�m going soft. I�m not doing this. This isn�t happening. I�m going to lose the prize... Oh, damn!� Colonel Anderson enjoyed his victory. If it hadn�t been for the Nietzschean gambler and his willingness to sell his friends for a royal bribe and free passage out of the system, they�d still be stuck in prison. But now, the pirates had the upper hand and would dole out some payback - with a hefty interest. After that, he�d take care of the Nietzschean turncoat. But first things first. �Are you ready to die, Captain Larabee?� �No,� Chris mocked. �But I have no say in this, haven�t I?� �I�m afraid... nope,� Anderson grinned. �Grab him!� Larabee was going to die, and he knew it. He decided to put everything on a single card. He didn�t want his death to be in vain, not as long as h still had a chance to rescue the men that were entrusted to him. Ezra had watched the entire scene unfolding before him, frantically calculating the odds. He knew that the only element he could depend on was surprise - and the firepower of his guns. Maybe if he�d manage to toss Larabee a weapon... No, the Captain was the center of attention. But the guards watching over the other five of his acquaintances were distracted by the imminent execution. With a grim smile, Ezra formed a plan. Vin Tanner witnessed the scene unfolding in front of him with a growing sense of d�ja vu. Too often he had seen people getting killed by others, their lives ruthlessly yanked away no matter the pleas, no matter if ransom money was paid or not. In a universe that was cold and unforgiving, shattered by centuries of civil war following the collapse of the Commonwealth, only a few islands of peace and justice had survived while the rest of the inhabited galaxies were struggling to have the fittest survive. It was a necessity, Vin had learned to live with it, even though he didn�t like it. All of his life, ever since his mother had died when he was still a young child, all the twenty-plus years he had fought on his own, Vin had known that he longed for a universe where no one had to be afraid of overnight raids, of waking up shackled in the morning to serve a Nietzschean master. A universe where there was justice for everyone, not just for those who were strong enough to take what they wanted or those who were rich enough to buy it. He had tried to become a planetary peacekeeper, but his upbringing in a small Rim-Line outpost hadn�t provided him with the much needed educational background required for the job. So he settled for being a bounty hunter. He enjoyed the work and in a short time not only had built up a vast net of informants but also had become quite adept in searching the ceaseless stream of information that poured in through the countless currier ships from all over the known universe connected by the slipstream network. Unfortunately, he had become too successful for his own good. One of the cartel bosses Vin had tried to hunt down had decided that enough was enough and framed him for murder. Now Tanner had a deft bounty on his own head and was on the run. The arrival of Chris Larabee had instilled new hope, ripping Vin out of the cynic and bitter reverie on his life when they had first met in the �Lion�s Den�. Though it had only been a couple of days ago, he and Chris had connected almost instantly and developed an instinctive bond of trust. Larabee had listened calmly to the story Vin had told the him, then just nodded in acceptance. There had been no judging, no accusations, no second thoughts. And now, the High Guard Captain was going to die by the hands of a stinking pirate? Vin tensed, prepared to do whatever was in his possibilities to stop the inevitable - no, the unthinkable - from happening. But how? Only one person was still free, and there was no sign of the wayward Nietzschean. �Where the hell is Ezra?� |