posted September 04, 2000 07:54 AM Subj ReRevenge
Date 96-10-25 201432 EDT
From Katrylle
The underground base had once been a House of Davion mech factory, abandoned and eventually auctioned off to pay for a war that had long since been forgotten. Most of the machinery didn't work when Jack first took it over, and, having no interest in building mechs, he had it removed and sold for scrap. It was at this point the "Land of the Midnight Sun", another of Joke's attempts at humor, was born. The name stuck and the base was modified to fit the pirates' needs.
Her "room" was actually a suite, the one Jack had used while the ranch was under construction several years ago. For some odd reason he would never explain, he kept the suite up, refusing to move the furniture to the ranch after completion. He even went so far as to keep some of his clothes and personal effects there, things she spent some time looking over, allowing memories overrun her thoughts.
Setting herself before the computer on the overly large 18th century oak desk, Kat began rooting through the files downloaded from the main system. Somehow, up to date personnel files, business holdings and lance info, all belonging to Darrak, had been transferred to the base. By whom, she had no idea, but obviously someone was looking forward to Darrak's downfall and somehow, they knew that downfall would come at the hands of a Midnight Raider.
Pushing the unanswerable question to the back of her mind as to who her un-named benefactor was, she studied the diagrams of Darrak's stronghold, also the most up to date version. Shaking her head, she discovered a text file pointing out all the weaknesses in the hold's defenses and what it would take to breach those defenses.
She muttered to herself in disbelief. “This is too friggin easy. I'm bein' set up.”
Skimming to the bottom of the file, she found the only indication of who would take such a chance of turning on Darrak; the initials L.T. Growling angrily, she closed the file and began through the Sun's inventory lists.
She sighed heavily as she read. Jack had shipped off most of the contraband that had been stored on the Sun's 'F' level days before his death. There were a few crates of hand held Flamers, Laser pistols, Vibrabombs and Complink landmines left in a storeroom, but little else was of any use to her. Leaning back in the chair, she pressed her fingers together in consideration. Suddenly, she stood and strode across the carpeted floor towards the bookcase. As she approached, the case slowly slid sideways, revealing a hidden lift that would take her to 'F' level. On the ride down, she felt the nervous energy build, the fear that what she was searching for had been shipped off with the rest of the things stored there.
Stepping from the lift, she quickly made her way down the hallway, coming to a rather large door at the end. Reaching down, she grabbed the calf-level handle and hauled the door upwards. The breath she held was suddenly released, an expression of love crossing her face as the room came to life with several small yet bright spot lights.
Scattered neatly about the room were varying forms of "classic" vehicles, most from the 20th Century. Jack's passion, Kat's second love. Slowly making her way between the vehicles, she lovingly traced a fender here, a door handle there, stopping momentarily in front of the 1958 Corvette convertible. Jack had restored it to cherry condition, no modifications outside of the paint and upholstery. This was his baby. Her smile softened as she thought about the drives through the country, top down, wind blowing through their hair. It had been the stuff dreams were made of, but even dreams die sometime.
The next in line was her favorite; a 1951 Chevy, rebuilt and modified into a "sleeper". She and Jack had worked on this one together, the ancient parts supplied by Melicore. Sliding onto the red and white leather bench seat, she lowered the driver's sun visor, grabbing the keys in mid air as they fell towards her lap. Slipping the ignition key into it's slot, she smiled, bringing the beast to life.
Even after almost a year, the modified Corvette 283 cubic inch engine purred. Jack had showed her how to shave and bore the heads, actually converting the 283 to a 305. Because of this modification, the rear axle had to be replaced with that of a '56 Corvette, a four speed Corvette transmission replacing the stock Chevy three speed. At first, the 5000lb Borgen Beck clutch was almost impossible for her to maneuver, but she eventually built up the muscles in her left hip so driving the car wasn't as difficult. Smiling wickedly, she leaned over, pulling the slot machine handle built low on the floor. Suddenly, the room was filled with a noise comparable only to an SRM going off in a bathroom. As the hydraulic traps opened, the roar of the engine nearly deafened her. Chuckling, she shut them down quickly, not wanting to shatter the windows of the other classics with the vibrations. Yes...this one would definite come home with her, as would all of them. She wasn't sure how she'd swing it, but she'd find a way.
Sliding out of the '51, she made her way to the back of the room towards the "Bondo Mobile"; a 1939 Chevy pickup painted in several shades of Rustolium, bumpers literally held on by bailing wire. Grabbing the door handle, she tugged gently at first, eventually yanking the door open with a metallic screech as she remembered it stuck badly. One of Jack's little "authentic" touches. The truck looked as though it had seen better days, fenders dented, the shell over the bed several shades of flat paint all different from the body itself. Again she dropped the visor, catching the keys. Pulling the choke as Jack had taught her, she pumped the gas pedal several times before cranking the engine over.
Coughing and sputtering, a cloud of black smoke rising from the tail pipe, all 8 cylinders finally began keeping time with each other, the front fenders rattling as if they were about to fall off. Most of the truck, for that matter, seemed about on it's last legs. She knew this to be a mechanical illusion, however. The quarter panels were held on by spring steel, the play in the metal making the fenders bounce and rattle in time with the engine on purpose. The tires were about the only giveaway that there might be something more to this creation from hell. Steel belted 10" tires built for street traction suggested that something more laid under the Rustolium and bailin wire.
In the back, under the windowless shell over the bed, the most powerful engine ever put into a 20th century vehicle. An Allison V-12 aircraft engine with a tank clutch, tugboat tyranny, 6 fuel injected carbs and an Allison supercharger. In effect, the truck had two engines, the stock under the hood and the aircraft engine in the back, both accessible, though only one at a time, by an inverted V-box. In order to support the extra weight, Jack had placed a second set of springs under the '95 ZR1 Corvette suspension, both front and back. This beast was a sleeper in every sense of the word and it would be the one to take her on her errands into Kirkdon.
Chuckling, thinking the computer could either read minds, or had an uncanny sense of timing, her wrist comm. beeped
“Shoot...”
#Operation completion now at 49.3%. What is your directive?#
“Maintain operation completion t' 100%. N'other directives a' th' moment. I'll be goin' inta Kirkdon. Continue security on area and open main hanger doors on m'mark.”
#Affirmative.#
Killing the engine on the truck, she slid out, took the lift back up to the suit and rummaged around in the desk. Smirking as her hand blindly found what she sought, she pulled a small box and flipped it open. The deck of cards slid easily into her hand and she laid them out on the table, fanning them so she could find the two she needed; the king of hearts and the ace of spades. Searching the desk again, she came up with a bottle of glue, permanently placing the cards one on top of the other so both cards could be seen. Next she took a black marker and wrote one word across the face of the cards; "Atonement" before slipping them into the pocket of her suede, fringed duster, the added weight of the sawed off shotgun and holster on the left side compensated for by the blaster on the right.
Stepping back into the lift, she braided her hair, wrapping it around her neck twice before tucking it into her night suit as the elevator returned her to the truck. Flicking open her comm., she gave further orders to the computer. “Kay...open the doors then shut them just after I leave.”
#Affirmative.#
Cranking up the old V-8, she shoved it into first and made her way up the ramp and out into the sunlight for the first time in a day and a half. Stopping just outside, she watched as the ramp slowly pulled itself back up into position, becoming one again with the natural ground around it. Shoving the truck back into first, she
made her way to Kirkdon and phase 2 of her plan.