Freelancer - The Void

The Darkness reached up with warm comforting arms and held him closely. So soft, its embrace… so soothing, its touch… so sweet, its kiss… lingering, tempting him. Come, come with me. I will hold you, come…

Images fleeted through his head. Oddly entertaining images, were they real or imagined? He bit down hard and tried to focus.

He’d had a similar experience once before, he now remembered. The rushing  flood of memories threatening to wash him downstream and into their murky depths. He held onto the rocky shore of coherence lest the current take him away. Take him, to where? He didn’t remember it like this, the alluring call, the wonderfulness of it. No, this was as different as it was the same.

He’d been many things in this life. This he knew. And such a life! Waking in that cramped stall. The smell, the confusion. Everything the same, everything different. The tiny ship. The sign… that damned sign. New worlds , and a sense of being again in a place where he knew he couldn’t have possibly been before. The friends. The enemies.

Why was it so much easier to remember the enemies? Could that be what changed him, and put him on the long path to there he was now?

He focused on the friends. Why could he not remember their names? He could barely see their faces.

Except one.

It was this one he went to when the memories returned the first time. Yes, he should find him again.

He moved to rise from where he rested. The Darkness punished him. Severely.

In time he returned. The Darkness comforted him again. Yes, stay with me. Come with me. I will keep you safe and warm.

He closed his eyes and watched the vid screen on the back of his eyelids, watched as the plot played itself out.

There they were. He and his friend stood in front of a shamble of a building, so excited they could barely contain themselves. This was it, and this would be it for a long time. Yes, the memories in that place! Then the journeys and then the Spot. The place where things disappeared. For a time, anyway. One day it came back, all at the smallest push from the most unlikely person. He remembered, he’d cried in that big man’s arms. Like a child.

Tears threatened. How strange that was, so unfamiliar. It ignited a rage inside him, and a shaking. The Darkness slapped him hard, several times, and punished him once more.

When he returned, the names hung in the fetid air before his eyes. His reward for his stubbornness. He smiled at the Darkness, daring her to say anything, as he drew these new images closer and carefully looked them over.

Fracture.  And Pit Viper. Yes that was their  names. His good friends, they made things so much easier in this new place, helped him to understand the differences. And the similarities.

Then  Zeb. Good ol’ Zeb. And the Bar. Yes, that was it, the building, it was a bar. The Hair. He smiled again.

The Darkness, chagrined, stayed at her distance, biding her time. She had plenty of time. Time was her sister, her twin.

Then there was Savage. And Maverick. And Vengeance, and others, now he remembered.

It was as though a breaker had been flipped on a control panel. There it was before him. Clear and as plain as any star in the Void.

Wolf. That was his name. Now he remembered.

He laughed. Then he coughed. Then he spat out another bit of his life and let the Darkness punish him once again.

He was becoming familiar with the cycle. Its rhythm was predictable. When he awoke he knew it would happen again. Somehow, it didn’t matter. He was enjoying the show.

Every time the memories returned, they brought friends. Now they had enough for a party, and a party they had. He watched as Wolf and Maverick fought in the space above New London, as their ships didn’t collide as they came together, as they arrived in that other place.

“I was wondering when you would return.” The Old Guy stood there. Right in front of him. He knew it was absurd, but there he stood  with no place for his feet to stand. “I knew you would come back. But where’s your  friend?”

“I really can’t say.’

“Why not? Is it a secret?”

“No, I mean I can’t say because I don’t know.”

“Yes you do.”

“Don’t start on me, Old Man. I don’t have the time. “

“Yes you do. Time is your best friend. Like a sister. Only more fun to kiss.” He laughed.

“You’re foul, Old Man.”

“I’m foul, am I? Look at yourself!”

Wolf looked down at himself. He stood in that same plain blank emptiness where he’d stood before. He stood in a fresh jumpsuit, clean-shaven and neat. He looked back at the Old Guy.

“What’s wrong with this?”

“Oh nothing. You look fine. But look at yourself.

He looked. What he saw scared the hell out of him. What he saw was a fast-moving feature-length vidshow and he was the star. And his friend was his co-star. They’d been here, having just received the revelation from some old fart of a man who had just told them Earth not only still existed but that she was waiting for the return of her children.

He remembered how Maverick and he had looked at each other. Then back at the Old Guy. Then back at each other again. Maverick, who had something of a temper, being all taken by the Chaos and all that, began to swear in languages and with words Wolf had never imagined. The things he said conjured images of familiar relationships and anatomically incorrect tasks that made him both grimace and laugh at once.

It wasn’t Maverick’s words that turned the page. It was Wolf’s laughter.

The Old Guy raised his cane… now he knew what that expression meant in the worst terms… and suddenly both Wolf and Maverick were struck mute. Mav’s tirade was stopped in mid-curse and Wolf's laughter in mid-guffaw.

Wolf stared at the Old Guy. But Maverick, no he could not be content with this small token of discipline. He glared. Wolf felt… something… and looked in alarm at his friend.

Maverick looked at the Old Guy deliberately as he puckered his lips and spat on the ground.

The Earth, Gaia, trembled with the rage of the insult. The Old Guy shook even more.

“You dare defile the womb of your birth? You dare spit on your mother? You evil animal! No, worse than animal… the animals have no guilt. They have no rancor. But you, pitiful human being, the pride of your Mother’s family, turned so ugly and selfishly against her and all your brothers and sister! You, foul man! You do not deserve her, and you shall not have her! She was ready to welcome you home, after all your trials, after your long absence, but no! You would spit on her!!

The Earth continued to tremble. The Old Guy advanced on the two men who now cowered. Two tough, strong spacers, trembling before this small old man and his rage.

“No, you shall not have her. Nor shall you have this, which you hold so dear!”

The Old Guy moved his cane again and both Maverick and Wolf felt a small tug from deep inside their psyche. It was like the feeling you have when you pull a thread through your skin, no pain, just a strange pull. Then the Old Guy was holding a small glittering essence in each hand… small softly glowing golden clouds pulsating in his hands.

“I have what you will long for in your deepest darkest dreams. You may glimpse of her in strange hours when you least expect it. She will elude you. Like a lost love, you will both love and hate her. But you will never lose sight of her, and you will never hold her again. Say good bye to your sanity.  I give you a hell worse than hell itself. I leave you with just enough of your reason to know and remember what you have lost.”

He raised his hands and a wind came up and took the glowing dust from them. They swirled and glittered and dispersed into the sweet cool air.

“Now be gone. Go to be with those of your own kind. Go and suffer the Madness and await the Darkness. They will be your only friends. Love them as you have loved yourselves, you poor pitiful men.”

The last thing he remembered of that moment was the Old Guy waving that cane of his and the trembling of the earth beneath his feet.

Then he remembered the bitter anger and the rage he had felt since. The others they found, so like themselves. The hatred they felt for these mindless killing fools. Even more for any living soul who had what was taken from them. And the love affair he had formed with death and destruction. An so they took and killed and wanted and hated and lived the living hell that was their payment for their foolishness.

And this, now he remembered, was what brought him to where he was now. In his ship spinning slowly through the cold dark Void, with the air seeping out and his life seeping out with it.

The memories were by far the cruelest thing he could have endured. Not the globules of dark red blood floating around  him, not the pain, not seeing the bone protruding from the stump of his sleeve. The memories.

He began to cry.

The Darkness took pity on Manticore, swooped in and rescued him from the torture. She whispered in his ear, took him into her loving arms, eased him gently down and carried him away.

Either nobody understands what you're saying here, or - a far less appealing option - no-one cares about it.
Not one reply, not even someone asking what you mean by this...  :-??

Hold on a sec...so is this an allegory about the Void Server and what's been happening here recently?  Or am I completely confused?

The Wolf seeks redemption?

When I was reading it my first impression was that you were missing the life outside of the -=REAVERS=-, but I think I know what you are getting at now. Good story Wolf, a good way of expressing yourself!  

Well it's extremely well written for one, and secondly it gives a look at how these to men, a fine Wolf and the corrupted soldier of chaos became the madness they are today. And don't worry Wolf, your sanity is out there, somewhere...

The ANNI bleeped and came to life.

“Contact bearing 034, mark 112. Range 44 thousand kilometers.”

Vengeance jumped in his jumpseat and grinned at himself as he wondered if that was why it was called that. “Show me,” he grumbled at the ANNI (Artificial Neural-Net Intelligence) and the NavComp’s display gave way to the IFR Sensors. And there it was.

The 3D holo-display was a multi-function device capable of astrological star-charts, FTL flightpath computations, and sensor display. It also served as a holographic communications transceiver. Currently, it showed a glowing yellow dot toward the right front stabilizer and “up” at about the same vector.

“Hm, yellow. No life-signs?”

“Confirmed.”

“OK, let’s go check it out. Salvage rights and all that. Plot an intercept course.”

“Course plotted and laid in. Go to.”

It was a fighter. Or, what was left of one. It was shredded by cannon fire and pierced in at least a dozen places by torpedoes. Most of the skin was singed beyond recognition. But as it slowly turned end-over-end the tail came into view. And there like a flag, the only part of the ship untouched by weapons-fire, the tail showed a bright red “X”.

“Reavers. Well whadaya know,” Vengeance said to his ship. “This is the kind of Reavers I like to see. Bring me in close range and sync us up. I want to try to dock.”

“Docking is not advised. The angular momentum of the ship’s rotation would exert a force greater than design parameters on the docking clamps.”

“Okay then. Can you get me in close and match the rotation, keep our port toward its port?”

“Affirmative.”

“Do it.”

“Affirmative.”

Vengeance squirmed into his vac-suit. It was stiff and uncomfortable since he rarely used it. “Hope it’ll hold air,” he mumbled.

Soon he was floating in the space between the two ships. The port next to the docking hatch was relatively undamaged. He tried his universal key but it didn’t work. He didn’t expect it to. “Dam Reavers, nothing’s normal with these guys.” He settled on his back-up plan and pulled out his blaster. He set it to the next-to-highest setting and focused a tight beam, using it like a cutting torch. He didn’t figure anyone would mind if he just carved out the locking mechanism.

Vengeance usually thought of everything. That was how he’d managed to survive as long as he had, cheating death so many times. As the torch cut through the last bit of triluminum around the hatch lock he shied back and held a small metal shield between himself and the port. He expected the air inside the ship to blow the hatch and send the part he’d just cut off flying back at him.

But nothing happened.

“Hm. Decomp. No wonder there’s no life signs. Either there’s no one home or it’s dead.”

Vengeance secretly hoped there was someone inside. He’d never actually seen a Reaver. They weren’t the kind you met and lived to remember. The stories he’d heard said they were pretty weird, though. He wanted to see for himself.

He eased his way into the ship and worked his way toward the flight deck. Then a thought occurred to him.

“Keep an eye out for fresh contacts,” he instructed his ship. “Don’t want to be surprised by this guy’s buddies coming looking for him.”

“Understood.”

His flashlight played off the bulkheads and panels. What was left of them. The ship was in pretty bad shape. What he couldn’t tell was, what of it was from whatever took this guy out and what of it was “normal” Reavers maintenance? He’d heard they were pretty crude, and pretty resourceful. Once he heard someone found a human thigh bone used as a strut for a stabilizer. Even though he’d doubted it at the time, it still had put him off his dinner. Now he wasn’t so sure.

He floated into the cockpit. And there it was, a body strapped into the jumpseat. What was left of it anyway. It was missing most of an arm and had a deep gash down one leg. It was obvious the guy had probably bled out through the femoral artery. The arm was cauterized by burns, though he couldn’t tell if it was from fire damage or if he’d  tried to seal the wound himself. Either way, it sure must have hurt like hell.

Vengeance made his way to the front of the seat and looked at the face. It was a mess. This guy had obviously been into tattoos. His face was a series of scars and burns, all healed to some degree or another. His eyes were almost shut, and there was ice clinging to his eyelashes.

“Huh. Frozen tears. No one’s gonna believe this down at the Hair. The big bad Reaver cried himself to death.”

He poked at the body with his flashlight, trying to turn it in the seat to get a better look. The frozen corpse shifted slightly and he could see what was probably the Reavers idea of a name patch on the front of the chest. There, painted in what had to be blood he read, “Manticore.”

“So this is the mighty Manticore. Sunuvabit…….”

He stopped in mid sentence as his eyes locked onto the face. He recognized it! Through the scars and the frost on the blue frozen skin, he realized his knew this man.

“Holy crap. Holy frakkin crap. Oh my mother and all her children! No! NO! After all this time, now we find you! Why!?? NO-O-O-O-O!!!”

There are no echoes in space. But if there were, they would have heard it all the way to the Hair of the Wolf in New London as Vengeance realized he was looking at the friend he’d thought he’d never see again. And now he wished he hadn’t.

Of all the things he’d thought of when he thought of Wolf, he’d never dreamed he’d find him dead in a Reavers ship.

......The news was not good.  Zebulon Antarxes had wonderd as to the whereabouts of his longtime companion.  They had fought together in wars.  Seen and done things that other men only dreamed about and that others only had nightmares about.  The vaccum of the void sucked at a mans inner most soul.  The darkness and solace of space either held deep contentment or hideous terror.  Some found both.  You could be gripped with a maddness that circled you like the vortex of a Jump Gate.  Zeb had known of those that had lost their minds mid jump, some stuck in the outer reaches of the barrier systems and the vast open unexplored areas that were deviod of trade lanes.  Only the hardiest of explorers reached that far.  Never mind read a good book, you had time to rewrite all of Shakespear's plays and train the monkeys to type them too!  

He slumped in his chair.  The large BMM office felt empty and souless.  He longed to spend some time back at the "Hair of the Wolf".  The report via the AoF from the Freelancer known as Vengance lay disgarded on the desk top as Zeb gazed out of the window over the clouded City of New Glasgow on the Planet of New London.  Below him life teamed about like insects.  

He placed his head in his hands.  For Wolf to have fallen to the Reavers madness and to have reached so far in their ranks to have been known as the once feared and dreaded Manticore filled Zeb with a loathing and fearful fasination of what it was that drove his friend into that deep and darkest place of base instinct and fury.  

Their shared scars had been many and Zeb knew only to well the screaming nightmares of combat and sudden death in the depths of empty space.  From all the report said it appeared that the end had been quick.  Zebulon Antarxes in the search for his friend had made some tentative contact with members of the Reavers.  Vermin had been a little more approachable in his saner moments, but always a risky prospect as there seemed to be more than one "person" residing in the conciousness of that particular Reaver.  The Reaver known as Firefly had appeared to be the one running the outfit in the absence of Manticore, but again any contact had been tentative at best and only the most experienced spies were ever sent to try and gain information.  Several had been lost and a reporter by the name of Albard Rexinova had escaped and survived capture by the Reavers apparently at the behest of the former leader, Manticore.  It was as if he had tried to reach out to Zeb.  What moments of lucidity that Manticore had must have been a torture to him, a blazing light of former life in the pitch darkness of madness.

Zeb mourned his passing with a heavy heart.  This was a plague that knew no end. Who would fall to it? Who could tell.......

Given the nature of the discovery the BMM salvage team guided by Vengeance had recoverd the -=REAVERS=- vessel and the corpse of the one formerly known as Manticore.  Wolf.  The veteran of many wars. The fighter who had hauled Zebs sorry backside out of many a firefight. The man that Zeb had dragged bodily away from the Nomad massacre on Planet Caliban, where their forces had been ambushed.  The man who had stood with him when they had opened the "Hair of the Wolf".  He had undertaken covert policing duties and excise jobs with Zeb and they had boosted their income with freelance jobs all around the Sirius Quandrant.  The incursion at the bar had set things off.  Too much killing for the like of the authorities even if it was the bad guys, so Wolf had taken off into the black to avoid any unwanted questions.  Zeb had come back to smooth things over and to clear up the mess.  Sometimes contacts are everything.

The remains had been examined and the vessel was being retro graded to see what made it tick. How these savages managed to maintain such a fleet of vessels had long remained a mystery.  The DNA or at least what little remained of it, verified that this was indeed the man formerly known as Wolf.  After some consideration and discussion with the authorities it was agreed that a cover story would be put out.  What remained of family did not need to know the truth. A closed casket and a cremation were in order.  

What surprised Zeb was the number of pilots who were present and even a number of representatives who would not normaly venture into the New York system.  A cyborg who wore the colours of the Kusari but who Zeb fully understood was here to record the proceedings for the SYNDICATE as well as two Corsairs, a thinly disguised Outcast cardamine dealer, and a bunch of shifty looking pirate types who only be Liberty Rogues! To boot several Xenos had turned up and a contingent of circuit monkey Lane Hackers.  Oh boy!

At least for now they were well behaved and respectful.  Might have something to do with the large number of Liberty Police and Navy in their dress uniforms along with a decent contingent of security permitted here by the Zoners.  Planet Cordellia had often been Wolf's place of escape.  The town of Oregon with its beautiful forests and rivers, the splashing waterfalls and the wide open country between the built up Zoner trading points.  Zeb had been fishing here with Wolf on more than one occasion.  Zeb smilled at the memory of the Cordellian Carp that got away!

As Zeb scanned the crowd for signs of trouble his eye was taken by a very striking figure.  He had not noticed her as she had been wearing a black velvet hooded cloak.  When she removed it, there was a look of utter sadness that nearly broke Zebs heart, yet she did not appear to have been crying.  Who could this be? One of Wolf's daliances? An ex-wife he never spoke of? Heck, might even be a daughter, though Zeb could not see any family traits.  His train of thought was interupeted as the ceremony proceeded.  It was brief as had been requested.

When it was all over Zeb turned to see where the woman had gone. Pushing through the throng he caught a glimpse of her outside the Veterans Chapel as she ducked into a limousine and took off towards the space port.  Before he could catch the license plate he was waylaid by some mourners who wanted to give their commiserations and to talk business, something Zeb was not going to pass up even at his friends funeral.

It would have to wait.

So it is true Annie thought as she slipped out the rear door. He is dead. And worse, he was taken even before that. A Reaver. Unexpected.

Logic and reason were clouded by emotions. The strength and the weakness of her peculiar one-ness. She still had not adjusted, even after more than a year. It always seemed to get in the way of thought, of dragging out the process.

Still, it was a straight-forward situation with an inevitable conclusion. Annie thought it over a long time. A very long time. About 24 milliseconds. Then she decided what she needed to do.

She had gotten better at blending in with the crowds. She had learned the best way to hide and be inconspicuous was in a crowd. She made her way to the waiting personal skimmer and told the driver to get her to the ‘port fast.

Of course it was not fast. After an eternal 4.354 minutes she arrived in front of the gate. She tossed the driver what she thought would be an appropriate tip for trying and stepped off toward her ship.

“Hey lady! You forgot your change!” the limo driver yelled at her back. Then he shook his head, stuffed the thousand-credit chip into his pocket and grinned to himself. A grand for a 350 fare. Keep this up I can retire… he chuckled as he scanned for another fare.

She settled into the cockpit of her new Gladiator. It was a very custom model. Very expensive. Not that it mattered. Funds were not a concern for her. They just came her way. It really wasn’t difficult. A few minutes at her terminal port and as much as she needed was neatly deposited into her accounts. No one ever seemed to notice. It wasn’t wrong from her point of view. The exploitation of a situation was not the fault of the person who found it, it was a concern of the person whose oversight made it possible. And there was never a lack of oversights if one simply gave it a nanosecond of thought.

She strapped in and transmitted her destination and planned waypoints. The flight coordinator received and responded immediately. Ah. Such efficiency. No lengthy transmutation into vocal words, just data. It made her long for the “good old days.”

Which in turn made her think once more of what she was about to do. It made her smile, another emotional response. One she rather enjoyed.

[align=center]* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *[/align]

New London loomed as she exited the trade lane. She found the docking ring and made straight for New Glasgow.

The waiting limo swifted her to the large BMM office complex. She didn’t need to consult with the directory or the seemingly disinterested security guard to know where she was headed.

The security guard came to life. “Excuse me, Miss. Can I help you? Where are you heading?”  It placed its pseudo-hand meaningfully on the butt of its sidearm as its ‘eyes’ scanned her for weapons and recorded her profile. It wasn’t meant as a question.

Annie looked at the guard and said sweetly, “I can find my way, thank you.”

The guardbot faltered, the glimmer in its eyes seemed to flicker a moment. Then it turned without a word and returned to its station, apparently satisfied.

She entered the lift and ascended to the executive levels.

A few confident turns through the maze of corridors led her to an expansive suite. “Zebulon Antarxes” glittered in golatinum on the transparent triluminum wall. She opened the door and entered.

The secretary was as efficient as she was handsome. “Good day, Miss. How may I assist you?”

“Mr Antarxes, please.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“I must see Mr Antarxes at once.”

“If you don’t have an appointment I can set you one for… “ she glanced at her terminal…”Next Monday. How’s that?”

“Unsatisfactory. I will see him at once. He is in.”

“No, I’m afraid you require an appointment.”

“Mr Antarxes will see me. He will not be pleased if he does not.”

The secretary eyed her suspiciously, then tapped her ‘comm.

“Mr Antarxes, there is a person here who insists on seeing you at once.”

“Not now, if you don’t mind. It’s not a good time…”

“Very good, Sir.” She replied, then to Annie, “You must return next Monday. Is 2PM alright?”

“Unsatisfactory.” Annie replied and headed for the door to the inner offices of Mr Zebulon Antarxes.

“NO! You can’t go in there!”

“Mr Antarxes will see me now.” Annie said as she brushed the secretary aside and reached for the door.

At that moment the door opened and there stood Zebulon Antarxes. The light of recognition came to life in his eyes as he stared into Annie’s face. He shushed his secretary and opened the door widely. Annie entered and Zebulon closed the door quietly behind her. He noticed his secretary’s livid expression as the door closed and knew there would be hell to pay.

He turned to the woman. Lovely he thought. Even more so close up and without the cloak.

He returned to his side of the desk and waved toward a chair. “Now then, what’s this about?”

Annie stood where she was. “I need to know everything.”

“Everything?”

“Yes. Every detail.”

“Erm… excuse me, but about what precisely?”

“About Wolf’s death. There is much to do.”

“Alright. What is this then? And will you please sit down… Miss….” He let it trail off.

She looked at him blankly for a moment, becoming mindful of her situation. “Yes, I will sit. Thank you.”

Now Zebulon could sit. The gentleman he was required the lady take a seat or he would not. And he really needed to sit at that particular moment.

“Miss, I still do not know with whom it is I have the pleasure of speaking. And I must say I will not speak lightly of my ... friend.”

“I understand, Mr Antarxes. I am Annie.”

Zebulon stared blankly at the striking woman across from him. Annie… Annie… that sounds familiar… Then he repeated “Annie?” in the hope it would shake a little more information loose.

“Yes. That is correct.”

Something about the way she said it struck the right chord. “Annie? The Annie?”

“I am not certain what is meant by that. But yes, I am Annie.”

“WOLF’S Annie?”

“That is correct. And I believe we have much work to do together.”

Zeb had heard stories about such things happening.  Mostly bedtime stories for kids or from that ancient writer that wrote about such things, Philip K. Dick.  He enjoyed the stories as they were so far fetched.  As he leaned back in his chair and twiddled the pen through his fingers he noticed that Annie had tipped her head slightly to one side and was following the movements of his fingers with the pen very closely.  He stopped. "I'm sorry that must be distracting for you." She just smiled, and waited.

"Annie, can I ask you a very personal question?"

"Of course, Mr Antarxes.  We will need to be sharing much information and you have plenty that I will need to know."

Zeb took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair. "Annie, what are you exactly? And, please call me Zeb."

Again the enigmatic smile. "Well Mr Antar...sorry, Zeb, I could ask you the very same question as it appears to be a universal query asked for centuries, but no matter, I am Annie. I have always been here. Maybe not in the form you see me in now, but here none the less. I was Wolf's constant companion. This is why I need to know what happend and I will need your help."

Zeb was taken with her candour.  "Annie, we would have in the past refered to you as an Artificial Intelligence with Learning Capability Parameters.  We have serveral of your minor "relatives" here at BMM.  They look after things such as production regulation, mining exploration and regular security details. What is important to me personaly is how you see yourself.  Do you know where you originated in your present form?"

She looked down into her lap and Zeb was worried that he may have offended this rather alluring and mysterious guest. When she looked up there were tears in her eyes.  Zeb felt his heart sink.  He passed her a handkerchief which she paused to accept and finaly did, wiping her eyes.  "I am sorry Zeb. but I miss him dreadfuly and it has taken till now for this strange reaction to occur. I feel alone, as if I am in a void and he was the only one who knew me well."  

Zeb sighed. "Annie, I am sorry.  It had not occured to me that you could feel like this."

She nodded. Zeb continued. "I miss him too, Annie. I will be only too happy to help you out with any of your questions."

Zeb listened and answered as best as he could, explaining to her about what had happened that night in "The Hair of The Wolf".  She recalled what she knew from being on board the ship, up to the point where they had taken off into the outer rims on a mad goose chase of a hunt.  There had been a massive power flux and Annies emergency backup circuits and memory had gone into emergency shut down. She could not, or would not, say what or who it was that had placed her in this form. She had "awoken" in the cockpit of her Gladiator and had utilised her data gathering and process manipulating abilities to get herself funds and then had proceeded to follow routes of enquiry in order to track down her beloved Wolf. Zeb listened carefuly for any clues that would fit the picture that they had formed regarding what had happened to Wolf.  When she had done he proceeded to tell her what he knew or at least guessed.

The problem was that neither of them could figure out how the whole -=REAVERS=- incident had come about as this was so much against anything that Wolf stood for. What they did know is that something dreadful had occured.

Annie seemed to be at relative ease with this, even though it nagged at Zeb. She then asked a somewhat odd question.  "Zeb, did you extract any DNA samples from Wolf's body?"

"Yes, we did.  I wanted to test to see what changes occured in him when he went rogue on us.  The hope is to develop something that could assist in returning -=REAVERS=- back into their normal state. I am curious though as to why you would want his DNA?"

"I am hoping that I can find the same people who made me in order to revive or at least preserve something of Wolf.  Please dont look so shocked.  He was everything to me, Zeb. He as father, brother and partner.  All three in one. Surely you can understand my desire to at least try to keep something of him alive?"

Truth was Zeb knew exactly what she meant.  Wolf had a wealth of information that to all intents and purposes would die with him, and he had been a great friend. Zeb looked across the desk at Annie.
"Ok Annie, what do you need from me....?"