---CONTINUING TRANSMISSION---

---THE GRIP OF AVARICE, PT II---

C.N.S. OBLIVION
COLOSSEUM SYSTEM, NOVA-VERSE
1947 HOURS, MAY 7, 3961 A.D.

“How we lookin', boys?” Mike asked.
“You should be all set for the tournament, Mike,” one of the techs replied. “Omega's ready for combat.”
“Good. I'll go ahead and get us signed up for our first match, amongst other things.”
[Don't keep me waiting!] Omega said.
Mike smiled. “I won't, don't worry, Omega.”

Mike headed to the Vigilance to prepare for docking with Colosseum Station. With things going as they were, now was as good a time as any to report in to High Command about what all had transpired. Additionally, now that he was by himself, he could investigate just how well-connected Murphy's group was – if one more corrupt group was off the streets, that was par for the course in Mike's book.

The Vigilance's engines roared to life as Mike sat himself down in the pilot's seat. His clawed fingers rapidly tapped away at the controls as he prepared to hail the station.

“Colosseum Station, this is Michael E. Thompson of the C.N.S. Vigilance,” he stated, firmly. “Requesting permission to dock.”
“Permission granted, Captain,” a female voice said on the other end. “Proceed to bay 84.”
“Acknowledged.”

It always irritated Mike how he was addressed as “captain” when he was piloting a vessel – even more so when he actually played EV Nova. One time, just for giggles, he named his pilot as “- er, Commander Thompson” so the game reacted appropriately. He snickered to himself as he recalled the experience.

Once the Vigilance had touched down, Mike immediately shifted to his human form to avoid, one, causing a panic, and two, revealing his identity; not that it really mattered any more, since Akasi – no, Abaddon, now knew what he was. But, he figured he may as well keep the locals from finding out, nonetheless.

First stop: the registrar's office.

Mike procured the small device that held his registration info before entering the office. “I'd like to enter the tournament,” he said to the receptionist.
“Alright, your name?” she asked.
“Michael Evan Thompson. That's 'a-e-l', by the way,” he replied. It didn't really annoy him that people spelled his name wrong (it'd happened plenty of times in his life), but he'd prefer it spelled correctly, anyway.
“May I see some I.D.?”

Mike handed the registry to the clerk, who studied the details before handing it back to him. “Alright, when would you like to start?”
“Anytime tomorrow after...9 AM, say?”
“That won't be a problem,” she responded, smiling. She entered his slot in and handed the paper to him. “Your match will be at 11:30 tomorrow. Have a nice day.”
“Thank you, you too,” he said, smiling.
Alright, with that out of the way, time to do some more important business, he thought to himself, as he left the office.

Next stop: outfitters.

A bell dinged as Mike entered the outfitters, noticing that same man Leon had encountered before, reading a newspaper.

“Excuse me...sir?” Mike asked.

The clerk folded his newspaper. “What'cha need, sonny?”
“Well, what do you have in stock?”
“All kinds of stuff, kid – anything in particular?”
“I'm looking for a new filter for my engines – damn things keep clogging up.”
“Maybe a bit more specific than that?”
“How about a B-273 filter?”

At this, the clerk smirked.

“A B-273, eh? Well, tell you what – I just got a new shipment today; why'nt we look in back?”
“Thanks, that'd be greatly appreciated.”

The two walked into the clerk's office. The clerk locked the door behind them, scanning out the window to make sure no one was watching.

CLERK: “Flawless performance, Mike – I don't think they'd be any wiser.”
MIKE: “Well, Gordon, it's just as well – since we're being more involved in this Universe, we need to keep a low profile.”
GORDON: “So, what brings you here?”
MIKE: “Did Sergei get any visitors?”
GORDON: “One, as a matter of fact – he walked in earlier today.”
MIKE: “Good. I need to speak with him and High Command as soon as possible – things have just gotten much more complicated.”
GORDON: “The Star's parked in Bay 12 – as far as I know, Sergei should still be there.”
MIKE: “Thanks, Gordon. Good to see you again.”
GORDON: “You too, Mike.”

The two exited Gordon's office, with Mike holding a box that looked like it held the filter (it was actually empty).

“And that'll be 135 credits, sonny – anything else?” Gordon asked.
“No, that should do it,” Mike replied, handing a cred-card. “Thanks, once again.”
“Anytime, son! Have a nice day!” Gordon replied. And good luck, he thought to Mike.
“Thanks, you too,” Mike replied. Keep your eyes open, Gordon – no telling how many men Akasi has aboard right now.
Understood, Gordon psychically acknowledged.

Mike made his way to Bay 12, and looked for the Corvette that Sergei flew. It didn't take long – the sleek, white hull of the ship stood out from the dull grays of the other ships. He knocked on the hatch to the ship.

“Identify yourself,” a male voice stated.
“Brigadier Chief Commander Michael E. Thompson, clearance level 897-Omega.”
“Identity confirmed. Access granted.”

Mike stepped through the hatch, which cycled quickly behind him. Iverson stood at the ready to greet the wolf as he shifted into his were-form.

“Ah, Master Thompson,” Iverson said, politely. “Good to see you.”
“Good to see you, too, Iverson,” the wolf replied, shaking the elderly man's hand. “Where's Sergei?”
“Sergei's on the bridge right now – I'll lead you there.”
“Great, thanks,” Mike replied, smiling.

Mike walked through the palatial halls of the Star of Moscow, never as much batting an eye to the magnificence of the ship. He had to keep himself focused for the meeting.

Mike soon entered the bridge, with Imperial Troops saluting his welcome. “Ah, Michael,” Sergei said, “good to see you. What business have you?”
“I need to speak with you, Sergei – preferably in private,” he said, lowering his voice on the latter note.
“Very well. Men, you are dismissed!” Sergei addressed his crew, which promptly exited.

Mike soon set himself to work opening the link to Imperial High Command. It wasn't long before Richard's figure was visible on the holo-screen.

“Ah, Michael. How is the mission progressing?” Richard asked.
“We've got the first artifact, Richard. Unfortunately,” Mike continued, growing a bit more grave, “it was not without loss.”
“I see...”

Mike turned to Sergei. “Sergei, scramble the link.”

The Russian nodded, making the link between the ship and High Command secured.

MIKE: “We ran into some interference when we were getting the artifact. The Harvester decided to make an appearance – he showed up, showed off, then took off, leaving some toadies of his to deal with.”
RICHARD: “Sounds about typical of him. What then?”
MIKE: “Akasi also made an appearance. But now, he is no longer merely the leader of the JR/VA, Richard. He is now known as Abaddon, the Beast from the Sea as foretold in Revelation, or the “Beast of the Abyss,” as he put it.
RICHARD (shocked): “My word...”
MIKE: “It gets worse. He had already obtained the Boots of Plague when he met us. The Boots were the only thing keeping some rogue eldritch abominations locked up in the Ubercept Universe. However, Abaddon has essentially made them his personal lap-dogs, or so he says – but, frankly, it wouldn't surprise me.”
RICHARD: “So, what about that loss you spoke of?”

Mike looked downcast.

“Corbin was a good soldier, Richard,” he said, solemnly. “Abaddon placed the boots on him, and marked the trooper for the manifestation of a demon. But Corbin would not allow it – he said he'd rather die than be another servant in Satan's Legions. He told us, in no short terms, to kill him before it was too late. I will not let his sacrifice be forgotten.”
“Nor will I,” Richard replied, firmly. “I shall call for a meeting of the IGRC immediately.”
Mike's head snapped up towards the screen. “No, you won't.”
Richard suddenly looked confused. “No?”
“We need to keep the hope of our people alive, Richard. It's much too early for us to reveal Akasi's true form to the public – for now, we need to keep this under wraps, much as I'd rather do otherwise.”

Richard looked long and hard at Mike before sighing. “Alright. I'll just keep this under my hat, then. Do you know when you plan to reveal his new form?”
“I'm sure Akasi will be the one who does that – believe me, something tells me that it won't be us who have to worry about the appointed time.”
“Very well. Richard out.” The link terminated.

Sergei looked at Mike. “Come. I have matters to discuss, as well.”

A little bit later, in Sergei's private quarters, Mike sat across from the Russian at his table.

MIKE: “So, Gordon told me that you got a visitor.”
SERGEI: “Da, I did. Name is Leon Roderick. Comes from city named Acre.”
MIKE: “Hmm. That's from that planet that got overrun by all manner of nasty, correct?”
SERGEI: “The same.”
MIKE: “What can you tell me about Leon?”
SERGEI: “A psyker, though I am sure he is not even aware he is one.”
MIKE: “I see. Where is he right now?”
SERGEI: “Sleeping. He needs it for the meeting tomorrow, when we reveal ourselves, and his true nature.”
MIKE: “Good. How are we, detectability-wise?”
SERGEI: “To the untrained eye, just another ship. Maybe different hull design, but still a ship, nonetheless.”
MIKE: “Excellent. I'll accompany you guys on the way to the meeting – my first match is at 11:30, so I won't be able to stay.”
SERGEI: “Is okay – should be rather short, anyway.”

Mike nodded. “Well, I guess I'd better get back to the Vigilance – Omega and I have a big day, tomorrow.”
“Da, and I'd better get some rest as well. Do svidanya, Michael.”
“Do svidanya,” Mike replied.

As Mike walked back to the Vigilance, his thoughts returned to Commander and Bowser. He couldn't help but wonder what sort of shenanigans they were in right now. The bigger worry was Maylithiar's superiors – would they willingly hand over the Gauntlets, or would the Imperials have to convince the Disciples' leaders that keeping the artifact was doing more harm than good for them? All he could do was put his trust in God, and know that He would put the Imperials in the situation they belonged in.

Once Mike entered the ship, he immediately locked the place down – he wasn't very trusting of his surroundings, and wanted to be sure he was safe tonight. After he showered himself, he got into his night clothes, then made for the bed.

He prayed for his comrades' safety as he laid down to sleep. It was going to be a long day, tomorrow...

...For everyone.

---TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED---

---

NOTES N' STUFF:

Yes, I really did name my character in Nova as such once. It was rather fun, I must admit.

As you can see, the outfitters aboard the station are actually a "front" of sorts for the Empire to more easily keep tabs on the situation at hand.

I can't tell you when the next section is going to take place, but when it does, it'll be put up posthaste.

Colosseum Station © its creator
Escape Velocity © Ambrosia Software
The Empire, JR/VA, and all characters w/in © me