“That’s right,”  Vaughn responded, as if he was proud of being single.  “And you won’t.  Women are an unpredictable species, my friend.” Mansel laughed laid back down on his bed.  “I don’t know what to do.” “You like her, don’t you?” Vaughn asked, unable to resist a wide smile.  “Come on...you can tell me.  I’m your right-hand-man.  I won’t tell anyone...except her.” Mansel shot him an alarmed look which gave him away just as Patterson had given herself away.  He stretched, hoping that maybe he didn’t notice.  “She’s...ok, I guess.” “That’s it?  Just ‘ok?’”  He shook his head.  “Have you not seen the way she looks?” Mansel shrugged.  “Yeah.” “And she’s just ‘ok?’  You are a strange one, Mansel...the rumors are true.” Mansel was about to tell him where he could put his rumors, but just then his comm system beeped.  It was Lieutenant Hardy, the only bridge officer that was on duty at the moment.  “Captain,” she called over the system, “there’s an urgent call from Admiral Benson.” Mansel sighed and shook his head.  To be such a rookie ship, they received a lot of action.  Fleury had made this comment to Broadaway in a state of the ship meeting earlier in the week.  The helmsman merely nodded his head.  Mansel was starting to believe it.  “Patch it through here, Lieutenant,” he said, rolling off his bed and smoothing out the wrinkles in his uniform.  He took a chair from his table and set it in front of his communications display, located near his door.  With a quick glance back at Vaughn, who was watching attentively, he flicked the monitor on. “Mansel,” Blackbird began without a hint of preamble, “there’s trouble.” “What kind of trouble, sir?” Mansel asked, eager to break the boring rhetoric of mapping star systems. “Marauder.” “Marauders?  Where are they located?” Admiral Blackbird scowled at the screen in front of him.  “No Mansel, not marauders, Marauder.  Surely you’ve heard of GART?” “Glorious Army of Reform and Truth, yeah,” Mansel responded, forgetting his courtesies for a moment.  “What about them?” “Marauder is GART’s leader.  He’s taken hostages at the Crisis Control Center.  Normally, I’d be called because he’s more or less my responsibility, but I’m tied up with something big right now.  You’re the closest ship in range.  Handle it.” “Aye, Admiral,” Mansel responded.  “Is it just him?” “Seems that way, yes.  You’ll find out more when you get there.  Be careful, Mansel.  Marauder’s not your typical everyday run-of-the-mill thug.  He’s highly intelligent and that makes him very dangerous.” “Sounds good to me,” Mansel responded, with a quick nod.  “We’ll handle it.  I take it no excessive force is to be used?” “We want Marauder alive, Captain,” Blackbird replied sternly.  “He’ll be taken to court and tried like any other villain.  Those are your orders.” “Understood, Admiral.” “Blackbird out.” Mansel switched his monitor to a different frequency.  “Lieutenant Hardy?” “Yes, Captain?” “Round up the rest of the staff.  Have them in my office in ten minutes.”  He stood up and put the chair back into place.  “Well,” he said to Vaughn who had stood as well, “we’re back on the job.” USS Explorer 10:00 SET 2186 The staff had filed in quickly; Mansel stood at the head of the briefing table with a picture of Marauder projected onto the screen beside him.  The picture was of bad quality, it had been taken very hastily without care to light or other obstructions.  It was a mass crowd, possibly an arms bazaar, no one was quite sure.  Over near the upper left corner was a young proud looking man, pointing at some weapon or another apparently haggling over the price. Marauder. “This, ladies and gentlemen, is the target,” Commander Vaughn started.  “He’s taken control of the UNSF Crisis Control Center and he’s taken hostages.” “How many?” Fleury asked before Vaughn could continue. The Executive Officer shrugged.  “We don’t know,” he admitted, pushing a button on the table and changing the picture of the terrorist to a picture of the CCC.  It was a multi-level complex, with a square base at the bottom and thinning out to a smaller square top.  “Located on Jupiter,” Vaughn continued, “it’s the building that handles most UNSF emergencies...such as this one.  Its effectiveness makes our military a smoother operating engine.” “There’s no such thing as a smooth operating engine,” Fleury snorted.  Had the situation not been so grievous, Mansel would have openly agreed with him. “The building was reportedly at its normal operating status,” Vaughn said, keeping the picture of the objective on the screen.  “That means there could be anywhere from three hundred to five hundred personnel trapped in there.” “There goes for a sneak operation,” Lieutenant Commander Ames said disgustedly.  “With three to five hundred people, guaranteed Marauder’s got a whole lot of people looking after them.”  He scratched his head thoughtfully.  Any ideas as to how we’re getting in, Mansel?”

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