Sigil of the Wolf - 6. Chapter 6

R-403 en-route to Nav-point Alpha

The Amsus Raptor shot from hyperspace, his wings adjusting their trim as he switched to his conventional ion drives. The expended jump pods slid back into their cowlings as the proud warship screamed up to flank-speed. Darien clambered into the forward gunnery station, powering up the small frigate's weapon systems and running an inventory, sparing a glance at Masconi, the consummate professional, who kept her eyes fixed on the HUD as she touched the stick and applied more power to thrust.

It was only a matter of time until pursuit from Sentinel arrived in the system, and the Highlord moved his fingers across the small consoles, searching for the Excalibur. The Raptor's updated Imperial sensor suite probed the system for the command carrier. Commander Durnham had specific instructions, and knowing the Commander's preference for following his orders to the letter, the Excalibur would have been moving to intercept them as soon as she detected the Raptor's hyperspace event.

"We have a guest," Lauren reported, coming forward into the cockpit and stripping off her TAC-vest and slipping into the rear sensor console, taking over the scans from Darien as she used the main instruments, "James shocked the hell out of COB..."

"I told him to stay behind," Darien turned in his seat, shaking his head.

"I tucked Elias into your cabin," Lauren said, changing the subject quickly.

"How's he doing?" Darien asked, looking back at her as he slipped his headset on, listening for the Excalibur's navigational transponder that would go active the moment they were in range.

"Doctor Kyr's with him, "Lauren reported, "But he's..." she shook her head.

"He's a tough one," Nazzien joined them, taking the last free station, "He'll be all right once we get him home. I had a couple of the crew man the auto-masers for when the fighters arrive..."

"Speak of the devil," Lauren observed as her screen lit up with multiple jump events. Iver had sent a small fleet after them.

Darien gritted his teeth, studying his boards. There were two Osterburg-class Hunter-Killers out there. The Imperial destroyers had been designed by the old Empire to hunt and destroy enemy capital ships with a formidable package of weaponry arrayed around powerful engines. While they were no match for the Excalibur, they would give a Raptor a run for its money.

Excalibur's problem would be from the trio of missile cruisers that backed them up.

The General was playing hardball, and he knew better than to play Excalibur's game on her own terms. The F-150 fighters flying escort around the Marine fleet would keep Excalibur's fighter squadrons tied up whilst the cruisers hammered away on her relentlessly with missile batteries.

Darien rubbed his eyes, trying to think. Iver had control of the Imperial armed forces, and although they would technically have to answer to a Highlord, even one of another House, Darien was under no misguided notions that they'd respond to his orders. Had Iver really given the order to open fire on the Excalibur? Would his men follow that order? There were too many ifs. Darien had to go with what he knew.

"Your Lordship?" Masconi asked, looking over at her Skipper, waiting for instructions, bumping up the Raptor's forward thrust.

"Where's Excalibur?" Darien asked, looking behind him at Lauren.

Lauren scanned over her screens, nodding. "I think I have her, she's on the edge of the system, launching her Alert fighters. The F-175s and the EV-IIs could be up with us in ten minutes." Lauren leaned forward tilting her ball cap back, "but they're going to give us only partial cover from those Osterburgs."

"They're going to be target practice if they try to come close with those cruisers,"

Nazzien nodded out the cockpit window at the bright shooting stars descending upon them. "Best tell them to hold back and cover the Excalibur, wait till the cruisers break off and then deal with the fighters."

Darien chewed his lip, reaching out to the radio on the centre console. "Excalibur this is Romeo-Four-Zero-Three."

"Excalibur control, go ahead Four-Zero-Three." Commander Durnham called back.

"Switch to emergency button two," Darien ordered, flipping the switch on his radio.

Hopefully it would take the General's forces time to find out what radio frequency they had switched to.

"Done, Four-Zero-Three," Durnham said, joining him on the channel, "We're secure, go ahead."

Darien looked over the tactical scopes, the Osterburgs, the missile cruisers and the fighters. They were just Imperials following their orders, unaware of the illegal actions of their commanding officer. His eyes travelled to the readouts showing the Excalibur amidst its swarm of fighters moving to intercept. They were just as innocent, caught up in the middle of a power struggle that had nothing to do with them. He couldn't order an engagement; he couldn't be responsible for the deaths of human lives. He was better than that, he was better than Iver.

"Excalibur, disengage. I repeat, disengage. Proceed with emergency plan Gamma, we will rendezvous with you at Nav-point Delta." He took a deep breath as he waited for confirmation; all too aware that the crew in the cramped cockpit now knew they were on their own.

"Four-Zero-Three, this is Excalibur, please confirm," Durnham sounded confused.

Part of Darien craved the safety and sanctuary Excalibur could offer, but the Command Carrier was capable of multiple jumps. If she disengaged and jumped, they would be safely away from possible conflict, saving themselves for the real enemy.

"I repeat," Darien said loudly and clearly, "Disengage and proceed with emergency plan Gamma, Commander. We'll make our own way and link up with you at Navpoint Delta."

"Confirmed," Durnham replied, sounding reluctant. "Good luck, Highlord."

Darien sighed, reaching out and switching to a general broadcast, looking over at his crew. Iver's fighters were still closing, but the Raptor could keep ahead of them.

Elias had meticulously maintained the engines, refitting and replacing worn or substandard parts, ensuring that the fast little Frigate was capable of keeping pace with F-150s on combat missions. He'd be able to out run the cruisers, and at a push stay ahead of the Osterburgs and the fighters, hopefully long enough for the jump pods to recharge.

"Can you take us deeper into the system?" Darien asked, gesturing towards the star.

"Yes, sir." Masconi said, angling the stick as the Raptor banked, increasing to flank speed. Darien's plan was sound: the Imperial fighters were capable of a pair of jumps apiece, there and back, meaning that if the Raptor could jump, the fighters would have to break off their pursuit and return to base, or risk being stranded in the next system. The cruisers would be too far behind to matter; if they pursued, the Raptor would be able to jump without them being close enough to track the jump co-ordinates... the Hunter-Killers, however, would remain true to their name and hound them relentlessly.

"Excalibur's recalled her fighters and is breaking off engagement," Lauren noted, "She should be able to jump in..."

"I know," Darien remarked folding his arms as he stared up and out of the cockpit window. They would have at least twenty-four hours before the jump drives were at full power. If they were lucky, providing the ion drives held out and unless Iver had an ace up his sleeve, there wouldn't be a fight until they recharged and jumped into the next system.

Darien stood up from his seat. "Keep us running at flank speed," He ordered, "I'm going to check on our men."

"I should go with you," Masconi stated, "Katz is one of mine..."

"I'll fly," Lauren offered, pausing to touch Darien's arm before she relieved Masconi, "make sure he's okay..."

"I will," Darien promised as he walked back through the small connecting corridor to the main body of the ship. He paused outside the door to what had been his cabin back when they had lived on this small ship. Before there was an Excalibur, before there was a restored Empire, it had just been Darien, his small crew and the R-403, all of them running from something, or to something. It was only fitting that they were on the run again, and R-403 was there like a faithful friend to carry them all.

He took a deep breath as he rested a hand on the door, remembering the shattered look on Elias's face, the tears in his eyes, and the pain that someone had caused to the man he loved.

He pushed the door open, gritting his teeth as he entered the cramped room. Doctor Kyr sat on the edge of the bed, looking down worriedly at the young engineer who lay there rigidly, offering no resistance as the doctor pulled open the thick Imperial tunic.

The Kaynin doctor hissed as he sprang back from the bed, looking over at Darien and then down at Elias's blood-soaked shirt. He bared his teeth, a gesture that hinted at his canine heritage as he moved forward again; he hadn't been expecting the extent of what they had done.

Darien stood uneasily, moving a shaking step forward to kneel beside Elias, reaching out to take his hand, fighting against his own emotions. "Oh my god..."

He murmured, staring over at the doctor.

Kyr was gently peeling back the blood-stained shirt, staring over the myriad of welts that criss-crossed Elias's lean frame, his eyes darkening as he leaned in examining them, his hand reaching into his small medical bag, pulling out some antiseptic to begin to clean the wounds. Trying to get a grasp on how bad it was, he wiped dried blood away from the wounds, the look in his eyes showing that he felt every wound as he traced the cloth over them.

Elias's lip quivered, his breathing coming quick and fast as his terrified eyes spun around the room, finally locking on to Darien's, drawing strength from the one place he knew he could always gain it from. His eyes desperately pleaded with Darien to make the pain stop, to keep him safe.

Darien cupped Elias's hands; despite the worry, he noted that the torturer had been careful to keep the injuries out of sight. In all his years with TER-SEC he'd witnessed Amsus Inquisitors at work. They were clean, efficient killing machines, they didn't believe in the art of torture; it seemed that only human beings refined it into an art form.

"They're shallow," Kyr said, his voice husky with emotion, fixing his eyes on Darien, "it's just... painful. I can give him something for the pain, stitch the worst of the cuts with a bit of time."

Darien nodded, holding that small hand in his own, not breaking eye contact with Elias. "Do what you can."

Kyr fumbled through his medical kit again, pulling out what he needed to treat his patient, stopping again as he leaned down. "What's that?" he murmured, more to himself than aloud.

He reached for another swab, cleaning a series of small circular puncture wounds that had been carefully hidden beneath a series of welts; deeper than the cuts, they had a surgical precision about them. The pattern niggled at the back of the doctor's mind, something he had studied in medical school.

"What is it?" Darien asked, brushing back a strand of Elias's hair from his face, those blue eyes and soft round features that didn't deserve to be twisted in pain.

"I don't know," Kyr replied honestly, shaking his head, "see these here?" He gestured to the wounds, "They did something, and tried to cover it with..." He shook his small head, again bearing his teeth as he glared down at the wounds with abject hatred.

"Can you tell what they did?" Darien asked, his eyes pleading with Elias to remain strong just a little longer.

"I don't have the equipment here to run any kind of tests," Kyr replied, setting about to administer an anaesthetic before he set to work repairing the damage, "How long until we're back on Excalibur?"

"We're not," Darien replied reluctantly, "Not for awhile at least, Iver's sent ships to try and stop us, I had to order the Excalibur to jump away or risk firing on them..."

"Personally," Kyr said, biting off his words as he began to sew, "I think they deserve to be fired on. I didn't join this crusade of yours to just stand by and let them torture people I love!"

"I know," Darien, said his shoulders slumping, gently touching Elias's face as the young man slipped into sleep, a look of peace settling onto his face as his pain eased at last.

* * *

"It's the very nature of evil." Masconi looked over her coffee cup at the young pilot pacing between the two recessed couches, "Your House likes to pretend that it is above the darkness of the old Empire, hiding on the edge of the frontier buried in its traditions and false nobility." She sneered, "My House... we recall the lessons learned in following Kardiac. His...crusade and what he did to anyone that got in his way."

"No," Katz replied adamantly, "look...no" He let his shoulders slump, "Darien's not the kind of guy to let them get away with torturing people... from kidnapping people... They aren't above the law..."

"They are," Masconi replied as she came to sit down on the couch, pulling her legs up under her and biting her lower lip; she liked the kid. He had balls, but he was too naïve, like Darien, too set in the ideal rather than the reality of the war they were fighting. "The Empire is at war, and all's fair in love and war..."

"Torturing my friend is fair?" Katz shot out. He'd had no idea, and that ignorance made him just as guilty as that bastard, Evans. If he'd just paid more attention, had said no when the Wolves had come aboard to take them away... If he had made any effort at all to stop it, instead of playing dumb, then maybe it... "It's not your fault," Masconi offered, knowing full well he wasn't going to listen to her.

"It's not," Darien agreed, coming back into the main compartment. He looked haggard. There was a shadowed ring under his eyes, and his hand rested on the butt of his PKD in its drop-leg holster. His waistcoat hung open and undone. The set of his jaw said he would broker no quarter; he was angry.

"I'm sorry, sir." Katz swallowed, "I didn't know, I should have..."

Darien shook his head, warding off the apology. "There's plenty of blame to go around, and we can't dwell on it." He glanced at Masconi and then back at the Squadron Leader. "I need you to tell me everything you saw or heard, no matter how trivial. Who did this, why they did it... anything you can think of?"

Katz sat down, folding his hands in his lap, looking helpless. "I wasn't with him.

General Iver was the one that assigned me to the Group Captain, I think they sent Elias off with a Lieutenant Colonel Evans, Military Intelligence..."

"Ahh, the new Gestapo." Masconi commented bitterly.

"What?" Darien asked, looking over at her.

"Secret Police," Masconi clarified, "I forget, they don't teach history on Earth anymore."

Darien took a deep breath. "Right, we need to find a hospital or a way to link back with the Excalibur..."

"If we try it, those Osterburgs will be on us," Masconi replied, "we're barely staying ahead of them as it is."

"Then we need to find a way to give them the slip." Darien picked up a mug from the small kitchenette and began to make himself a cup of coffee. If they could make for a neutral port they could at least get Elias to a medical centre, work out what was wrong, and Kyr could work his magic. But that close to the front, neutral ports were few and far between. Even the Orion Tradeliners tried to avoid transiting those systems for long, preferring the longer way around to get to the jump nexus.

He paused, studying the coffee can in his hands, turning it over and looking thoughtfully over at Commander Masconi. They had a small EV-II onboard the Raptor, there for light recon purposes, really nothing more than a glorified scout; however, it was outfitted with a pair of jump pods. He set the can down on the edge of the small counter and crossed the lounge to the shuttle bay at the rear, flipping open the access panel and cycling open the hatch on the small bay.

Katz and Masconi, curious as to their Highlord's sudden enthusiasm, followed as they watched him walk around the small fighter, the pods mounted exactly where they were supposed to be, under the wings on missile hard points. They registered a full charge apiece, enough to get the fighter to and from where it was going.

"It won't be enough to jump the Raptor," Masconi commented, seeing the wheels in Darien's head turning, "Even if..." She paused, "Even if Lieutenant Elias were on his feet."

The Highlord leaned down under the fuselage and pointed to the jump pod on the far wing. "One, maybe not, but two?"

Katz's mouth hung open in surprise. "You want to jump to hyperspace with two jump pods?"

"Yes," Darien replied folding his arms. "The Raptor currently uses two jump pods to engage its FTL drive; we'd simply be copying the system for a second pair of pods. It'd be a precision job, but if we could remove the redundant safeties in the fighter's nav computer we should be able to pull it off."

"And fry every system in the fighter," Katz murmured.

"Let me ask you this," Darien said folding his arms confidently, "will that matter?"

Katz opened his mouth again, looking over at Masconi, who shared the same unease that he did. They were taught to preserve their fighters, that their lives depended on a fighter that was operational, and yet they weren't dependant on the fighter. In fact it served no other purpose to them in that situation.

"Okay Skipper," Masconi pulled back a bit and whispered to the Highlord, "How did you come up with this idea from looking at a can of coffee?"

"I didn't," Darien replied, "I was thinking of how much I hate decaf..." He turned and walked back forward into the ship, "I'll see if COB has an engineer in his team..."

"Ashley," Katz chimed up as he stood from the far side of the fighter, "He's pretty sharp at this kind of thing..."

"Right," Darien smiled to himself recognizing the hazed look in Katz's eyes, remembering his own fondness for an Engineer starting that way.

* * *

He was sitting at the small desk making a pointed entry into his log at some ridiculous hour of the morning. Trying, he supposed, to get into words his side of what had transpired. The pursuing fleet had their FTL communications jammed, effectively cutting them off from contacting other parts of the Empire. Without even the option of reporting what Iver had done, Darien had to settle for log entries that he would be able to send at a later point.

"D-Darien..." Elias's murmur broke the dark quiet.

Darien turned from the computer monitor, the only light in the small room, looking across at the bed and the engineer feebly struggling to sit up. "I'm here," he reassured. He wasn't going anywhere.

He stood up and crossed the room, taking off his glasses as he sat down on the edge of the bed they'd shared for so long before they had become lovers, curled up together as friends seeking comfort and companionship from one another. Darien's fingers brushed through that fine blonde hair, stirring it gently between his fingers as Elias's blue eyes caught the dim light.

"I-I'm sorry," Elias's voice quivered weakly as he tried to find his voice.

"Shh," Darien leaned down and lightly kissed his forehead, feeling his own eyes moisten again, "I'm the one who's sorry. I... if I hadn't dragged you into all this..."

Elias's voice was mousy quiet. "Then I'd never have met you."

"There is that," Darien laughed, continuing to stroke Elias's hair, "still, I'm sorry they did this to you."

Elias's hands snaked out and wrapped around Darien's neck, pulling him close as he clung on for a while, the Highlord sliding up and onto the bed beside him, holding him carefully to avoid reopening the wounds.

"We're going to try chain linking the EV-II's jump drives," Darien said, hoping that a little talk along Elias's favourite past time would distract the young engineer.

"Who's doing it?" Elias asked, rolling slightly and resting his nose against Darien's, a favourite position of his when he felt like chatting late at night.

"Ashley, one of your plane techs..." Darien shrugged, "The one our Squadron Leader Katz has a little crush on..."

He felt Elias smile. "Leave them alone," Elias murmured, "let them figure it out on their own."

Darien chuckled. "Weren't you the one who was all for just getting it out, done and in the open?"

"For us, yeah," Elias replied, "But that's a double standard."

"Oh I see," Darien laughed.

"Mmhmm," Elias nodded wriggling closer and catching himself a little painfully.

He paused and shifted. "Besides, you took your time. Anyway, Ashley's good with jump pods, he just needs to be motivated... tell Kitty..."

"Kitty?" Darien blinked.

"Katz," Elias corrected, "Tell him to visit him every hour for an update, Ash'll have it done in record time just to impress him."

"You know your engineers," Darien mused, impressed.

"No," Elias replied quietly, "It's just what I do whenever you ask for an update..."

Darien chuckled. "You know I love you, right?"

"I love me too," Elias replied, a little of his old self beginning to shine in his voice, "And Lauren, and Kyr... and Nazzien, even though he won't admit it, and Masconi and..."

"I get the picture," Darien grinned.

"...And Kitt... and Excalibur, but that's 'cause I tickle her manifolds when no one's looking..."

"You pet the ship?" Darien again shook his head in wonder at the little engineer's eccentricities.

"Yeah, she likes it better than Romeo does..."

"Romeo?" Darien again was lost.

"Romeo-Four-Zero-Three," Elias spouted off R-403's call sign, "He's a bit fussy when I play with his parts. He likes things nice and simple..."

"You spend far too much time with ships." Darien pressed his lips against the younger man's, cradling him gently against him and beginning to drift off to sleep.

* * *

Nazzien stirred the mug balanced on the pilot's console, looking over at Lauren sitting beside him. "Why aren't you getting some sleep?"

Lauren shrugged, pulling her blanket about her as she shifted in the gunnery seat watching the enemy ships chasing them. "I want to keep an eye on them," she said with a nod.

Nazzien looked at her for a long moment, the weary look in her eyes and the fact that she looked so worn and tired, she was still not sleeping. "So," Nazzien said, shifting to lope a leg over the arm of the pilot's chair and nudging the trim slightly to angle them on course, "I hear Darien's got another magic trick to pull to get us out of this mess."

"He's always come through for us before." Lauren reminded pointedly.

"My people have a title for men like him: Do'h'jar, it means 'lord of war'. A person that makes war an art form. While others like the Amsus," he gestured to the scopes, "Or General Iver use brute force and numbers, Darien poises and strikes with clever precision in ways they do not expect... I wonder if he isn't part Orion..."

"No, I think he's from San Francisco, that makes him Californian." Lauren murmured.

"This San Francisco must breed many great warriors," Nazzien mused.

"The Forty-Niners, I think," Lauren teased, "Darien wears the hat occasionally..."

"They are a sect of warriors?" Nazzien murmured in awe, "I thought it was just an advertisement for his stock company." He shrugged, "When we wear logos it is to promote our own businesses, I didn't know..." He smiled, "I should have a hat made of the Dar'Shar, I was raised on one of their guild halls."

"Dar'Shar?" Lauren smiled, "The crazy pilots? I don't think you want to advertise that. Most Orions pretend they don't exist. Bad for their insurance rates."

"Not as bad as Darien is," Nazzien shook his head. "I wouldn't be surprised if the First Bank of Orion begins to offer insurance against his visits to Orion property."

He laughed looking back down the length of the ship, "I am curious, I know you have told me Humans are not raised in guildhalls, and that the parents get to raise their children; does that mean then that Darien knows his parents?"

Parents. Lauren's hands wrapped tighter in the blanket as she fought past her own reaction to the question. Sometimes she envied the Orions' anonymity; without raising their own children, they appreciated all children as equally precious, protecting them as they themselves had been protected, nurturing them towards their eventual place in Orion society - unlike some Human parents, who saw their children as nothing more than an inconvenience, a reminder of their own failures.

She heard Rikard's mocking voice in her head; A little suffering was good for the soul.

"I don't think so," Lauren said softly. "At least, he doesn't talk about them. He seems like a very private man." She flexed her hand rubbing a scar that was no longer there, the painful memory still fresh.

"I just find it interesting," Nazzien admitted sitting easily relaxed as he fiddled with some of the controls, "I have often imagined my own as being successful board members, or Tradeliner Captains, like I will be."

"No modesty there," Lauren teased her old friend. She reached out to steal the mug of coffee Nazzien was still poking at with no intention of drinking. She sipped it and sighed blissfully. "No, some of us choose not to be close to our families."

She stared over the rim of her coffee mug and out into the depths of space, trying to remind herself that she wasn't the same Lauren who had... that Lauren was dead, she was an Amsus copy. Her ordeal with Rikard and her Polian interrogator stood stark in her mind, that was real; everything else was someone else's memory... It shouldn't terrify her alone in the dark.

Deep in the darkest recesses of her mind, something flexed, coiled and ready to strike when the time was right.