Forums » Role Playing
Waffles wins the Riddik comment. :) lol
Chapter 4
John Eldritch wished that for once his life were as charmed as that of his namesake that appeared in the trash novels. He allowed his mind to wander as he thought about what the other John would do…
The customs official had annoyed John Eldritch for the last thirty seconds, about twenty-nine seconds too long for John's taste and temper. With an obvious look of distaste that bordered on a sneer, he pulled his large-calibre heavy-duty triple-shot Corvus-make customised gauss handcanon and shoved it under the nose of the manling in front of him.
"I have had enough of your mewling. Are you going to crawl back under your rock or do I have to paint the walls in a new colour named "Hint of Brains?" You have three seconds to reply maggot, tic toc."
The sweating, obese, hairy and premature balding customs official hurriedly grabbed the papers back and smiled an insecure smile before quickly moving towards another less gung-ho and far less attractive trader. Which would be just about anyone else on the station really. John Eldritch holstered the weapon with a smooth and well-rehearsed movement that included rotating the weapon around his index finger by the trigger-guard and extended his other arm to embrace the voluptuous scantily-clad blonde beauty that appeared as if by magic at his side. He looked at the young woman, flexed his massive biceps, smiled his famous Hero™ smile and bent low to kiss her on the…
"Are you even listening to what I am saying?"
John snapped out of the pleasant daydream and was once more assaulted by the realities of real life. The smell of soy-cooking oil and pungent aromas of spices, the smell of propellant, a smell of cheap perfume covering stale sweat and above everything else the smell of industrial grade coolant. The coolant smell he was used to, after all the smell came from his own ship, but the other smells were particular for this station. He reckoned that the cheap perfume and stale sweat smell came from the obese, hairy, premature balding customs official in front of him. At least that part of the daydream had been right.
"Sorry, tried to access the record for the shipment," he said.
He pointed to his head to indicate an implant.
"So, did you find it?"
"Ehm, I am not sure, what was the number for the request again?"
The customs official looked at his papers and pointed to one entry with a thick food-stained finger.
"Says right here, shipment number ART7-XTR14-4457-B231, one mothload of industrial grade coolant."
John sighed and gave up.
"And how much do I owe you?"
"The tax on the shipment amounts to 290 standard UIT credits, the fine for not paying is another 50000 standard UIT credits and the fee going to the Bureau of Cargo Taxation for handling the matter is 17000 standard UIT credits. Not to mention the fee for restoring your class A+ license to UIT space which amount to," he thumped through some papers," 180.000 standard UIT credits. Lemme see, that will be 254.853 standard UIT credits."
John made a quick calculation of his own
"Surely you mean 247.290 credits?"
The customs official wiped some sweat of his brow and looked down into the bulkhead.
"Ahem, yes. Unless you wish to... I mean I could pull some strings, probably let you off cheaper."
John starred at the manling.
"I do not need to bribe my way to pay for past mistakes. The bill will suffice."
"I hope you are not implying…"
"There is nothing to imply. I simply wish to settle my bill."
The customs official reluctantly handed the sheet of paper over and nodded.
"Ahem, I have... eh, you don't have to... Pay at the counter or electronically. Good day."
John looked at the sum in the bottom of the sheet. 17290 standard UIT credits. He had not been fined due to his class A+ rating and had retained his rating. He looked up at the customs official's back as he hurriedly vacated the bay. He clenched his fists and mentally booked for a training bot later today. Something was going to be smashed for this. He received a summons from tsreknor but figured he couldn't be back in time. Without a doubt he would be briefed when he came back and if it was important, Ecka had his personal scramble signal. For now he'd just ships this coolant back to K-10 and take it from there. Well, the coolant and that small extra stash of Corvus "education" discs that was the real profit on this run and the items that weren't listed on the cargo manifest since they were highly illegal in all three Nation’s spaces.
###
Mercy Machine jumped into Latos O-12 on an offset bearing in relation to the convoy she was supposed to follow. Long used to travel alone in the depths of grey with highly needed and thus highly profitable items, she had long since learned that the convoys were best likened to schools of fish. And where the fishies were, predators were sure to follow. The convoy she was a part of was already burning for the wormhole and she set her course to jump around five seconds after the last ship had traversed null-space. Suddenly a trio of rings of greatly accelerated exotic particles appeared inside the convoy and disgorged three fighters. Mercy cut her power to the overdrive in her Moth XC and immediately turned towards open space, away from the convoy. An explosion that bathed the roids she was flying towards in harsh actinic light was followed by another set of flashes, an indication that the three other moths in the convoy had been destroyed. The in-sector list only showed the three bogeys and four escorts, with one bogey closing on her tail fast. Maybe faster than she could boost away. She dumped a single crate of distilled water, hoping the radar echo would scare the pursuer as a proximity mine would. The fighter dodged easily and kept on coming fast, her rear radar now showing only bogeys. She glanced at her read-out and saw the proximity radar screen; 2589 metres and going at 150 metres per second. Quick mental calculation on the bogey didn't calm her at all, it would be within striking distance 1.4 seconds before she hit the 3000 metre mark.
She dropped another crate but it didn't have any effect on the bogey. At 2812 metres from nearest mass, her radar showed the telltale hard echo of flares sneaking up towards her. She swallowed hard and focused on engaging the jump sequence as soon as the 3k mark was reached. And prayed that it was only a single flare. At 2980 metres the flare hit her rear and exploded, tearing what little armour she had on the rear of her XC into ribbons and at the same time tossing her ship the last 20 metres forward. Another flare was moving towards her at that time but too late. She hit the jump switch and felt the usual static discharge inside the cockpit as the exotic matter engine enveloped the ship in its protective brane and propelled it through null-space.
She exited into an empty sector and immediately primed the jump engine again for another jump. A ring opened 632 metres away and a single fighter, class Atlas X, appeared, turned and boosted for her. She hit the jump button again and re-appeared in another open space, again priming her jump engine immediately. The Atlas followed, 817 metres away and Mercy hit the jump button again, frantically setting the parameters up for another jump. She exited in Latos N-2 and immediately boosted for the safety of the station guards. The Atlas appeared behind her and to the port around 392 metres away. Immediately she detected a launched flare and braced herself for the impact. The 50 tonne ship rang like a giant bell as the warhead detonated on the right side armour, which was torn off and tumbled through space in pieces no bigger than a thumb. The air inside her cockpit was sucked out through a half metre square hole in the side and bottom. Mercy could feel her suit contract and stiffen as the vacuum replaced her normal atmosphere and she sent a silent prayer to whomever held his/her hand/appendage over her and had given her the idea of donning a spacesuit this morning. The NFZ signal blinked through her comms and the Atlas X broke off contact, boosting for open space. Apparently she had been inside the station's no fire zone when the flare impacted and a group of defence fighters had been dispatched to either destroy or at least chase the Atlas X away.
Mercy Machine docked the XC with all the usual grace she displayed in everything she did and went through a thorough systems power-down before the realisation of what just happened hit her like a hammer and her hands started shaking slightly even as she laughed out loud. That had been close indeed. She had better get the ole gal fixed and send a report to GSS and one to the Viper HQ. Those pirates had not been CLM, or they would have hailed. They weren't SYN; that particular band of misfits had been destroyed following the incident with Latos N-15 last year, but they worked together very well like they knew each other. Unknown, and therefore dangerous. GSS would need to know this.
John Eldritch wished that for once his life were as charmed as that of his namesake that appeared in the trash novels. He allowed his mind to wander as he thought about what the other John would do…
The customs official had annoyed John Eldritch for the last thirty seconds, about twenty-nine seconds too long for John's taste and temper. With an obvious look of distaste that bordered on a sneer, he pulled his large-calibre heavy-duty triple-shot Corvus-make customised gauss handcanon and shoved it under the nose of the manling in front of him.
"I have had enough of your mewling. Are you going to crawl back under your rock or do I have to paint the walls in a new colour named "Hint of Brains?" You have three seconds to reply maggot, tic toc."
The sweating, obese, hairy and premature balding customs official hurriedly grabbed the papers back and smiled an insecure smile before quickly moving towards another less gung-ho and far less attractive trader. Which would be just about anyone else on the station really. John Eldritch holstered the weapon with a smooth and well-rehearsed movement that included rotating the weapon around his index finger by the trigger-guard and extended his other arm to embrace the voluptuous scantily-clad blonde beauty that appeared as if by magic at his side. He looked at the young woman, flexed his massive biceps, smiled his famous Hero™ smile and bent low to kiss her on the…
"Are you even listening to what I am saying?"
John snapped out of the pleasant daydream and was once more assaulted by the realities of real life. The smell of soy-cooking oil and pungent aromas of spices, the smell of propellant, a smell of cheap perfume covering stale sweat and above everything else the smell of industrial grade coolant. The coolant smell he was used to, after all the smell came from his own ship, but the other smells were particular for this station. He reckoned that the cheap perfume and stale sweat smell came from the obese, hairy, premature balding customs official in front of him. At least that part of the daydream had been right.
"Sorry, tried to access the record for the shipment," he said.
He pointed to his head to indicate an implant.
"So, did you find it?"
"Ehm, I am not sure, what was the number for the request again?"
The customs official looked at his papers and pointed to one entry with a thick food-stained finger.
"Says right here, shipment number ART7-XTR14-4457-B231, one mothload of industrial grade coolant."
John sighed and gave up.
"And how much do I owe you?"
"The tax on the shipment amounts to 290 standard UIT credits, the fine for not paying is another 50000 standard UIT credits and the fee going to the Bureau of Cargo Taxation for handling the matter is 17000 standard UIT credits. Not to mention the fee for restoring your class A+ license to UIT space which amount to," he thumped through some papers," 180.000 standard UIT credits. Lemme see, that will be 254.853 standard UIT credits."
John made a quick calculation of his own
"Surely you mean 247.290 credits?"
The customs official wiped some sweat of his brow and looked down into the bulkhead.
"Ahem, yes. Unless you wish to... I mean I could pull some strings, probably let you off cheaper."
John starred at the manling.
"I do not need to bribe my way to pay for past mistakes. The bill will suffice."
"I hope you are not implying…"
"There is nothing to imply. I simply wish to settle my bill."
The customs official reluctantly handed the sheet of paper over and nodded.
"Ahem, I have... eh, you don't have to... Pay at the counter or electronically. Good day."
John looked at the sum in the bottom of the sheet. 17290 standard UIT credits. He had not been fined due to his class A+ rating and had retained his rating. He looked up at the customs official's back as he hurriedly vacated the bay. He clenched his fists and mentally booked for a training bot later today. Something was going to be smashed for this. He received a summons from tsreknor but figured he couldn't be back in time. Without a doubt he would be briefed when he came back and if it was important, Ecka had his personal scramble signal. For now he'd just ships this coolant back to K-10 and take it from there. Well, the coolant and that small extra stash of Corvus "education" discs that was the real profit on this run and the items that weren't listed on the cargo manifest since they were highly illegal in all three Nation’s spaces.
###
Mercy Machine jumped into Latos O-12 on an offset bearing in relation to the convoy she was supposed to follow. Long used to travel alone in the depths of grey with highly needed and thus highly profitable items, she had long since learned that the convoys were best likened to schools of fish. And where the fishies were, predators were sure to follow. The convoy she was a part of was already burning for the wormhole and she set her course to jump around five seconds after the last ship had traversed null-space. Suddenly a trio of rings of greatly accelerated exotic particles appeared inside the convoy and disgorged three fighters. Mercy cut her power to the overdrive in her Moth XC and immediately turned towards open space, away from the convoy. An explosion that bathed the roids she was flying towards in harsh actinic light was followed by another set of flashes, an indication that the three other moths in the convoy had been destroyed. The in-sector list only showed the three bogeys and four escorts, with one bogey closing on her tail fast. Maybe faster than she could boost away. She dumped a single crate of distilled water, hoping the radar echo would scare the pursuer as a proximity mine would. The fighter dodged easily and kept on coming fast, her rear radar now showing only bogeys. She glanced at her read-out and saw the proximity radar screen; 2589 metres and going at 150 metres per second. Quick mental calculation on the bogey didn't calm her at all, it would be within striking distance 1.4 seconds before she hit the 3000 metre mark.
She dropped another crate but it didn't have any effect on the bogey. At 2812 metres from nearest mass, her radar showed the telltale hard echo of flares sneaking up towards her. She swallowed hard and focused on engaging the jump sequence as soon as the 3k mark was reached. And prayed that it was only a single flare. At 2980 metres the flare hit her rear and exploded, tearing what little armour she had on the rear of her XC into ribbons and at the same time tossing her ship the last 20 metres forward. Another flare was moving towards her at that time but too late. She hit the jump switch and felt the usual static discharge inside the cockpit as the exotic matter engine enveloped the ship in its protective brane and propelled it through null-space.
She exited into an empty sector and immediately primed the jump engine again for another jump. A ring opened 632 metres away and a single fighter, class Atlas X, appeared, turned and boosted for her. She hit the jump button again and re-appeared in another open space, again priming her jump engine immediately. The Atlas followed, 817 metres away and Mercy hit the jump button again, frantically setting the parameters up for another jump. She exited in Latos N-2 and immediately boosted for the safety of the station guards. The Atlas appeared behind her and to the port around 392 metres away. Immediately she detected a launched flare and braced herself for the impact. The 50 tonne ship rang like a giant bell as the warhead detonated on the right side armour, which was torn off and tumbled through space in pieces no bigger than a thumb. The air inside her cockpit was sucked out through a half metre square hole in the side and bottom. Mercy could feel her suit contract and stiffen as the vacuum replaced her normal atmosphere and she sent a silent prayer to whomever held his/her hand/appendage over her and had given her the idea of donning a spacesuit this morning. The NFZ signal blinked through her comms and the Atlas X broke off contact, boosting for open space. Apparently she had been inside the station's no fire zone when the flare impacted and a group of defence fighters had been dispatched to either destroy or at least chase the Atlas X away.
Mercy Machine docked the XC with all the usual grace she displayed in everything she did and went through a thorough systems power-down before the realisation of what just happened hit her like a hammer and her hands started shaking slightly even as she laughed out loud. That had been close indeed. She had better get the ole gal fixed and send a report to GSS and one to the Viper HQ. Those pirates had not been CLM, or they would have hailed. They weren't SYN; that particular band of misfits had been destroyed following the incident with Latos N-15 last year, but they worked together very well like they knew each other. Unknown, and therefore dangerous. GSS would need to know this.
Chapter 5
"And with that, I believe I have the winning hand gents. Read 'em and weep."
Neagoth tossed the three aces and two eights onto the improvised table made from cartons of IV fluid, where a considerable pile of chits were lying with a vintage portable holo projector on top. The men around the table tossed their cards face down at the table and Neagoth started pulling his winnings towards himself. The chief medical officer, a thin man with ginger hair and almost translucent skin, nodded towards the clone vat and said, "bloody good timing as well, looks like your pal is about to wake."
Neagoth turned and saw the slow dreamlike movements of Ironstar as the machine kickstarted his awareness. The clone tanks were as gentle as possible but it had been proved by trial and error that in order for the mind to acknowledge the body it was residing in, and for the mind to actually take control, a machine-induced nightmare that the person inside had programmed himself previously, combined with forced body movement, was the only way to merge the two. Unfortunately it was also very detrimental to the psyche of the person in the tank and most people could only take around 5-10 full body regenerations a year before showing signs of mental degradation and psychological problems and that was even with counseling. One of the first signs was damage to the pleasure/reward/pain centre with a lot of the many-regenerated persons becoming addicted to drugs or alcohol. Off course, some became addicted to other things, thus by the process of cloning, creating some of the worst psychopaths in known space. It was rumoured that the most famous of them all, Dr. Lecter, had committed suicide more than a hundred times and been cloned more times than that following his own personal path into insanity and damnation. Naturally, bootleg copies of the alleged personal nightmares of Dr. Lecter could be bought at stiff prices in Corvus. Neagoth had heard rumours of Itani indoctrination camps, water torture and pink fluffy bunnies being part of it. The tank voided its liquid and Ironstar sank to the floor gently, his eyes opening with the lack of comprehension that was likewise common. Neagoth handed a glas of Helio Mists through the, by now, open hatch and nodded at Ironstar.
"Welcome to the realm of the living. Drink, it'll do you good."
Ironstar took the shot with unsteady hands and tossed it, coughing vat fluid for a good minute afterwards.
"What happened?" he rasped, his vocal cords still not up to their usual baritone and slightly raw from the whisky.
Neagoth handed him a TGFT uniform and a clean set of underwear.
"Well, we were kinda hoping you could enlighten us on that side buddy. The last brainread from your pod needs some time to fully settle but in a couple of minutes you should be able to remember. Want another?"
He pointed to the bottle of Mists and when Ironstar nodded, he poured another shot. Ironstar grabbed it like a drowning man would a life raft and poured the golden liquid down his throat, grunting with pleasure from the taste.
"Yeah, this is probably the only good thing about getting cloned. Tasting Mists for the first time again."
Neagoth grinned and handed the bottle over.
"Just take it easy, k? Wouldn't want you drunk as a teenager on his first binge when you stand in front of the Eckanator."
They both laughed at that and moved out into the corridor towards the TGFT part of the station, Ironstar on unsteady legs that may or may not have been due to the whisky.
###
Chaakin looked at the debris cluttering Latos O-12 with pride and satisfaction. The wormhole had been closed to all traffic for the last 24 hours with only a few tradeships escaping the well-rehearsed trap of CHRN, and of these ships only one was not an Atlas. The XC that had escaped was a particular thorn in Chaakin's side as it had been a TGFT ship on top of being a large unarmed tradeship but he was not a man given to excessive brooding over what could have been. They had succeeded in turning the ship away from Sedina and that was in reality what mattered. He rolled his own Behemoth through the wreckage, scavenging everything that had even the slightest value thus living up to his nickname, The Raven. The last convoy had been a UIT convoy and Ardenus and Azrael were busy chasing escape pods and dispatching them with well-placed energy shots. Chaakin didn't much like the mindless killing but he had not been as traumatised as Ardenus had and he considered himself a whole lot more sane than Azrael. As a matter of fact, he considered most people a whole lot more sane than Azrael but he knew that few were better in an Atlas X than him. A trio of rings spewed forth another group of CHRN fighters and Chaakin sighed with fatigue. Their relief was here and Alfa flight could finally take a rest after 18 hours of combat patrol. He keyed his comms.
"Alfa squad, form up on me and transit to Sedina D-14, acknowledge."
Two sets of clicks and his teammates flew into their respective positions. They had trained hard to work as a three-man team instead of the old wingman configuration and it had paid off handsomely so far. If only they could encounter some Vipers and test the fighting style on real fighters instead of these escort wannabe fighters. Chaakin grinned underneath his helmet; if they kept up this blockade he was certain they would get Vipers around. For now he would settle for a cold beer. He docked at the usual bay and got out of the fighter. His butt was sore after 18 hours in the seat and he walked slightly stiff up to the jet-black Marauder that had docked two bays down. The cockpit was open and inside a young man with hair to match his fighter's colour and a serious frown looked at the readouts .
"Ardenus, something wrong?"
Ardenus looked up from the readout and smiled widely.
"Nope Raven, just checking to see how much armour that last neutron shot peeled off. I think I may have had a bad armour plate from the artificers, otherwise it doesn't make any sense."
"It has happened before with me. You better get that readout and push it in the artificer's face. Will probably get you a discount on the next set of plates. Anyway, wanna go grab a beer before bed?"
Ardenus nodded, flicked a couple of switches into the off position and grabbed the readout before getting out of the seat.
"Sure thing, a cold one would hit the spot right now. Wanna go ask Azrael?"
Chaakin looked over at the completely unmarked matte black Atlas X and shivered slightly. He had only seen Azrael outside of the cockpit once and the experience had not been a particularly pleasant one. The gibbering nonsense that came from within the black robes Azrael seemed to be fond of wearing, only served to make people avoid him. And the cockpit had not been opened since they docked at the station. Chaakin shook a hand in denial and smiled lopsided.
"Nah, I don't think it is his idea of a good time Ard. Lets just leave him there."
Ardenus looked over and nodded at the suggestion.
"Yeah, you're right Rave. Pirate's Bones?"
Chaakin smiled and nodded, and the two pirates swaggered down towards the bar for a well deserved beer.
###
Commander Fletholm scratched his ample belly absentmindedly as he read the daily trade report from DSE. Or rather, he skimmed it as he skimmed almost all the documents that came his way only stopping to actually read it when he came across something really important. After all, he had people that were hired to do nothing else but read reports, digest them and make them into prognosis' and trends. His eyes stopped at the Sedina incoming trace. For almost a whole day Sedina had not received anything through Latos and only limited amounts through Odia. He opened the shipping list and correlated the two. His ulcer stirred slowly as a picture formed in his head, a picture of events that he couldn't right now see the consequences of. He looked up as a soft knock rapped at his door. Eggert stuck his head in, a sly grin on his face, the grin he had when something bad was happening. Fletholm's ulcer stirred once more, this time with a vengeful discharge of acid into his oesophagus. He grabbed the bottle of antacid and brought it to his mouth, wincing at the acrid alkaline smell of it but took a couple of swallows anyway. He put the bottle in front of him on the table without putting the lid back on, he would probably need it soon.
"What?"
Eggert grinned wider and came all the way into the office and closed the door behind him.
"I have a treat for you boss. A real gem."
With a theatrical sigh good enough for even the best acting schools, Fletholm grabbed the phone and dialled his home number, voice only. He had dinner arrangements tonight with friends of Camille, arrangements he had absolutely promised that he would participate in. She would kill him for this. No mercy, no understanding, sheer murder. The phone rang seven times before the call was taken, someone was busy in the other end, no doubt preparing for the perfect night tonight.
"Fletholm residence, Camille speaking."
"Camille, love. I have.."
"Oh no you don't. You cannot weasel your way out of this one, do you know how long time I have...."
Fletholm placed the receiver on the desk and let Camille rage into the air; he wouldn't be able to get a word in for the next five minutes anyway. And then he was supposed to say it was his duty and then she would rage for some more and smash the receiver at her end. It was going to get ugly. Unless he could somehow arrange for some Eo roses and that rosy gemstone she had mentioned casually the other day. He looked over his half glasses at the grinning Eggert and knew who would secure the items for him. The Lord works in mysterious ways indeed. He took another swill from the bottle of antacid and calmed the raging beast in his stomach, grabbed the receiver and got ready to calm the raging beast in his life.
"And with that, I believe I have the winning hand gents. Read 'em and weep."
Neagoth tossed the three aces and two eights onto the improvised table made from cartons of IV fluid, where a considerable pile of chits were lying with a vintage portable holo projector on top. The men around the table tossed their cards face down at the table and Neagoth started pulling his winnings towards himself. The chief medical officer, a thin man with ginger hair and almost translucent skin, nodded towards the clone vat and said, "bloody good timing as well, looks like your pal is about to wake."
Neagoth turned and saw the slow dreamlike movements of Ironstar as the machine kickstarted his awareness. The clone tanks were as gentle as possible but it had been proved by trial and error that in order for the mind to acknowledge the body it was residing in, and for the mind to actually take control, a machine-induced nightmare that the person inside had programmed himself previously, combined with forced body movement, was the only way to merge the two. Unfortunately it was also very detrimental to the psyche of the person in the tank and most people could only take around 5-10 full body regenerations a year before showing signs of mental degradation and psychological problems and that was even with counseling. One of the first signs was damage to the pleasure/reward/pain centre with a lot of the many-regenerated persons becoming addicted to drugs or alcohol. Off course, some became addicted to other things, thus by the process of cloning, creating some of the worst psychopaths in known space. It was rumoured that the most famous of them all, Dr. Lecter, had committed suicide more than a hundred times and been cloned more times than that following his own personal path into insanity and damnation. Naturally, bootleg copies of the alleged personal nightmares of Dr. Lecter could be bought at stiff prices in Corvus. Neagoth had heard rumours of Itani indoctrination camps, water torture and pink fluffy bunnies being part of it. The tank voided its liquid and Ironstar sank to the floor gently, his eyes opening with the lack of comprehension that was likewise common. Neagoth handed a glas of Helio Mists through the, by now, open hatch and nodded at Ironstar.
"Welcome to the realm of the living. Drink, it'll do you good."
Ironstar took the shot with unsteady hands and tossed it, coughing vat fluid for a good minute afterwards.
"What happened?" he rasped, his vocal cords still not up to their usual baritone and slightly raw from the whisky.
Neagoth handed him a TGFT uniform and a clean set of underwear.
"Well, we were kinda hoping you could enlighten us on that side buddy. The last brainread from your pod needs some time to fully settle but in a couple of minutes you should be able to remember. Want another?"
He pointed to the bottle of Mists and when Ironstar nodded, he poured another shot. Ironstar grabbed it like a drowning man would a life raft and poured the golden liquid down his throat, grunting with pleasure from the taste.
"Yeah, this is probably the only good thing about getting cloned. Tasting Mists for the first time again."
Neagoth grinned and handed the bottle over.
"Just take it easy, k? Wouldn't want you drunk as a teenager on his first binge when you stand in front of the Eckanator."
They both laughed at that and moved out into the corridor towards the TGFT part of the station, Ironstar on unsteady legs that may or may not have been due to the whisky.
###
Chaakin looked at the debris cluttering Latos O-12 with pride and satisfaction. The wormhole had been closed to all traffic for the last 24 hours with only a few tradeships escaping the well-rehearsed trap of CHRN, and of these ships only one was not an Atlas. The XC that had escaped was a particular thorn in Chaakin's side as it had been a TGFT ship on top of being a large unarmed tradeship but he was not a man given to excessive brooding over what could have been. They had succeeded in turning the ship away from Sedina and that was in reality what mattered. He rolled his own Behemoth through the wreckage, scavenging everything that had even the slightest value thus living up to his nickname, The Raven. The last convoy had been a UIT convoy and Ardenus and Azrael were busy chasing escape pods and dispatching them with well-placed energy shots. Chaakin didn't much like the mindless killing but he had not been as traumatised as Ardenus had and he considered himself a whole lot more sane than Azrael. As a matter of fact, he considered most people a whole lot more sane than Azrael but he knew that few were better in an Atlas X than him. A trio of rings spewed forth another group of CHRN fighters and Chaakin sighed with fatigue. Their relief was here and Alfa flight could finally take a rest after 18 hours of combat patrol. He keyed his comms.
"Alfa squad, form up on me and transit to Sedina D-14, acknowledge."
Two sets of clicks and his teammates flew into their respective positions. They had trained hard to work as a three-man team instead of the old wingman configuration and it had paid off handsomely so far. If only they could encounter some Vipers and test the fighting style on real fighters instead of these escort wannabe fighters. Chaakin grinned underneath his helmet; if they kept up this blockade he was certain they would get Vipers around. For now he would settle for a cold beer. He docked at the usual bay and got out of the fighter. His butt was sore after 18 hours in the seat and he walked slightly stiff up to the jet-black Marauder that had docked two bays down. The cockpit was open and inside a young man with hair to match his fighter's colour and a serious frown looked at the readouts .
"Ardenus, something wrong?"
Ardenus looked up from the readout and smiled widely.
"Nope Raven, just checking to see how much armour that last neutron shot peeled off. I think I may have had a bad armour plate from the artificers, otherwise it doesn't make any sense."
"It has happened before with me. You better get that readout and push it in the artificer's face. Will probably get you a discount on the next set of plates. Anyway, wanna go grab a beer before bed?"
Ardenus nodded, flicked a couple of switches into the off position and grabbed the readout before getting out of the seat.
"Sure thing, a cold one would hit the spot right now. Wanna go ask Azrael?"
Chaakin looked over at the completely unmarked matte black Atlas X and shivered slightly. He had only seen Azrael outside of the cockpit once and the experience had not been a particularly pleasant one. The gibbering nonsense that came from within the black robes Azrael seemed to be fond of wearing, only served to make people avoid him. And the cockpit had not been opened since they docked at the station. Chaakin shook a hand in denial and smiled lopsided.
"Nah, I don't think it is his idea of a good time Ard. Lets just leave him there."
Ardenus looked over and nodded at the suggestion.
"Yeah, you're right Rave. Pirate's Bones?"
Chaakin smiled and nodded, and the two pirates swaggered down towards the bar for a well deserved beer.
###
Commander Fletholm scratched his ample belly absentmindedly as he read the daily trade report from DSE. Or rather, he skimmed it as he skimmed almost all the documents that came his way only stopping to actually read it when he came across something really important. After all, he had people that were hired to do nothing else but read reports, digest them and make them into prognosis' and trends. His eyes stopped at the Sedina incoming trace. For almost a whole day Sedina had not received anything through Latos and only limited amounts through Odia. He opened the shipping list and correlated the two. His ulcer stirred slowly as a picture formed in his head, a picture of events that he couldn't right now see the consequences of. He looked up as a soft knock rapped at his door. Eggert stuck his head in, a sly grin on his face, the grin he had when something bad was happening. Fletholm's ulcer stirred once more, this time with a vengeful discharge of acid into his oesophagus. He grabbed the bottle of antacid and brought it to his mouth, wincing at the acrid alkaline smell of it but took a couple of swallows anyway. He put the bottle in front of him on the table without putting the lid back on, he would probably need it soon.
"What?"
Eggert grinned wider and came all the way into the office and closed the door behind him.
"I have a treat for you boss. A real gem."
With a theatrical sigh good enough for even the best acting schools, Fletholm grabbed the phone and dialled his home number, voice only. He had dinner arrangements tonight with friends of Camille, arrangements he had absolutely promised that he would participate in. She would kill him for this. No mercy, no understanding, sheer murder. The phone rang seven times before the call was taken, someone was busy in the other end, no doubt preparing for the perfect night tonight.
"Fletholm residence, Camille speaking."
"Camille, love. I have.."
"Oh no you don't. You cannot weasel your way out of this one, do you know how long time I have...."
Fletholm placed the receiver on the desk and let Camille rage into the air; he wouldn't be able to get a word in for the next five minutes anyway. And then he was supposed to say it was his duty and then she would rage for some more and smash the receiver at her end. It was going to get ugly. Unless he could somehow arrange for some Eo roses and that rosy gemstone she had mentioned casually the other day. He looked over his half glasses at the grinning Eggert and knew who would secure the items for him. The Lord works in mysterious ways indeed. He took another swill from the bottle of antacid and calmed the raging beast in his stomach, grabbed the receiver and got ready to calm the raging beast in his life.
WOOO! Sundays!
Chapter 6
The built-in triple redundancy, multiple fault overrides and single purpose designed spaceship engines didn't exactly make it easier for him. Fortunately Trulo Mithans, third vat grown child of Esther and Herbert Mithans, had always thrived on challenges, even those that seemed insurmountable. This one was, however, proving to be worse than most and he wasn't sure that he could fix it. The standard output of the engine couldn't be harnessed for power production in any way that he could think of apart from thrust. The last attempt at getting this Behemoth class engine to work had been a dismal failure like the rest even though he had tried to work it directly from the top of the ship. He tossed the Agileo-spanner into his toolbox and wiped a greasy backhand over his sweaty brow.
"Them ticker box spin youse at dead-angles sure?"
Trulo looked down at his helper, Dietlam Osenaus and shook his head.
"You have to translated that Diet, I don't speak your Bractus mumbo jumbo lingo."
Diet cracked a pearly white grin, basically the only part of the man that was clean. His thin, to the point of being gaunt, features were the norm in the Bractus freefall stations and only selective breeding kept the population below two and a half metres. Their slender body shapes were too space adapted to function without girdles and exo-skeletons in normal gravity. Nobody argued with their skills in zero-g though.
"The engines Trulo. You can't figure this one out, sure?"
Trulo frowned at something Diet had said. Spin, that was it. He could use the engines to spin but spin what? The idea hit him like a ten tonne brick and he slapped his forehead upon receiving the epiphany. He reached over and kissed the greasy forehead of his helper for lack of someone better in triumph.
"I got it Diet. Listen, get the skin crew and find as many engines as you can."
He turned to his own crew of techs that were busy stringing nul-res cabling from the capacitors to the launch bay. He got up and walked over to them, smiling uneasily as he always did when he had something unpleasant to say.
"Guys, we are wiring the wrong place."
The tired techs looked at him without comprehension.
"We need to wire this to the main habitation sector drive axle engine. We are going to spin it up with the engines and run the damned thing like a dynamo."
The tired techs actually grinned at the craziness of the idea before they realised that they would have to re-wire the entire Tokomak engine cowling and do it fast. With groans and muttered oaths they grabbed their tools and started dismantling the heavy nul-res cable harness. Trulo ignored their tired protests completely. He knew it was only for show, every single one of his techs lived for this kind of work. As did he. With a lopsided grin he grabbed his tools and walked off to get his vacuum skin.
###
The walls were painted in the correct shade of nausea and the hidden lamps that emitted a pale green light that pulsed subtly with undertones of blue had, along with the single floor-fixed plasteel stool, been designed to invoke the maximum amount of discomfort to the person sitting in it. Unseen speakers were the only form of communication between the person in the room and the persons outside. In the junior Xang Xi official’s jargon the room was called the Purgatory since you went in and either came out promoted or came out to an escort of guards and a fast-track to the Xith mines. The young man sitting on the stool had a nasty suspicion that he might have to move his mailing address into the pits of Xith roid Amber Nine, the largest and deepest of the pits and the one reserved for people who the leadership of Uncle Xi didn't want to see again, ever. The light dimmed almost to black before restoring the soft glow, a further reminder why he was here. He shuffled his feet nervously but managed to keep his cool when the voice appeared out of the walls.
"What steps have you taken to rectify your mistake?"
The young man almost allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief but managed to control himself. They were not going to fry him!
"Naturally, I have punished the chief mechanic harshly and have initiated and am now implementing a new series of routines in order to ensure the reporting of any mission essential material that is deemed as irreplaceable within limited time as described in the charter laid out by the honoured board of directors, in order for said items to be re-purchased at a time that ensures the correct and timely replacement of these materials and items" he lied easily. Unfortunately, now he had to actually do all these things, as he was sure they would be controlled in detail.
"That all sounds very well and the board will naturally check these new routines out shortly. However, what of the current crisis on Daltas Hold? How are you going to rectify your mistake, the mistake that is now costing us millions of credits per day?"
Sweat starting pearling its way out onto his brow like morning dew on a cornfield but he tried to ignore it. He cleared his throat to ensure that he didn't stutter with the nervousness that just manifested itself again.
"I have sent a request for a new control relay to be sent with highest priority and with security flag red. A flight of Xang Xi Corporate Police Special Weapons unit Vultures are as we speak diverting to Dau to provide security for the item. I am expecting it here within six hours; another two hours for installing it, three hours to spin the Tokomak up again and within twelve hours we should have power to the main weapons capacitors. I am expecting that we can route power to the factory floor two hours after that and have full functionality within 48 hours with all vital functions."
The timings were at best a guess and a rather optimistic one at that but he had to give an optimistic view or he would be working outside the base without a suit in no time. In reality he didn't expect the base to be fully functional within the next two weeks and that was even without running into any SNAFU’s.
"Very well. The board expects you to uphold these timings. You will be evaluated based on your performance. Dismissed."
The light in the room changed to a cold white glare that clearly underlined the previous statement: he should leave and now. He got up on slightly wobbly legs and went out of the room, regaining his confidence with every second passing. He was going to solve this crisis and then it would be his time for a shot at the high board, sit on the other side of that screen.
###
"Okay son, take that with me once more. You say that the ships were not members of any known guild and that they were coordinated in their attack. What I don't get is that they apparently killed all the life support pods?"
Ironstar rolled his eyes in despair and annoyance. This was the fifth time they wanted him to elaborate on that. He leaned forward and put his elbows on the ebony table and gesticulated with his hands to underscore his statement.
"Listen, I can tell you the same thing fifteen times over and it doesn't change anything at all. Yes, they were not from a known guild, yes, they were very coordinated and no, I don't know why they slaughtered the pods."
He pushed himself back in the seat and folded his arms across his chest.
"I know, but it is importa..."
"Enaw."
Ecka's voice ended all further discussion with that single word as finally as if he had stopped time itself.
"Ah dinnae think 'at we can gie onie mair information by askin' Ironstarr th' sam questions repeatedly. Whit dae ye propose we dae ts?
"Well Sir, on the limited information we have I'd suggest sending a recce patrol along the next convoy going through the Sedina/Latos wormhole. Two ships kitted out for surveillance and running should be enough. And I'll see if my connections with PA and UIT has anything."
"I'll see what I can drum up with the missus down Serco way boss," Riddik offered.
"Ah agree. Sit it up an' lets see if we can gie some answers"
The command "dismissed" did not materialise, it very rarely did. Unlike the Xang Xi members, the TGFT council members were very seldom in doubt when Ecka Estenk closed the meeting and this was not one of those times. tsreknor walked over to Gramps and motioned with his head towards the door and together they walked to the small office of GSS. There was spook work to do.
The built-in triple redundancy, multiple fault overrides and single purpose designed spaceship engines didn't exactly make it easier for him. Fortunately Trulo Mithans, third vat grown child of Esther and Herbert Mithans, had always thrived on challenges, even those that seemed insurmountable. This one was, however, proving to be worse than most and he wasn't sure that he could fix it. The standard output of the engine couldn't be harnessed for power production in any way that he could think of apart from thrust. The last attempt at getting this Behemoth class engine to work had been a dismal failure like the rest even though he had tried to work it directly from the top of the ship. He tossed the Agileo-spanner into his toolbox and wiped a greasy backhand over his sweaty brow.
"Them ticker box spin youse at dead-angles sure?"
Trulo looked down at his helper, Dietlam Osenaus and shook his head.
"You have to translated that Diet, I don't speak your Bractus mumbo jumbo lingo."
Diet cracked a pearly white grin, basically the only part of the man that was clean. His thin, to the point of being gaunt, features were the norm in the Bractus freefall stations and only selective breeding kept the population below two and a half metres. Their slender body shapes were too space adapted to function without girdles and exo-skeletons in normal gravity. Nobody argued with their skills in zero-g though.
"The engines Trulo. You can't figure this one out, sure?"
Trulo frowned at something Diet had said. Spin, that was it. He could use the engines to spin but spin what? The idea hit him like a ten tonne brick and he slapped his forehead upon receiving the epiphany. He reached over and kissed the greasy forehead of his helper for lack of someone better in triumph.
"I got it Diet. Listen, get the skin crew and find as many engines as you can."
He turned to his own crew of techs that were busy stringing nul-res cabling from the capacitors to the launch bay. He got up and walked over to them, smiling uneasily as he always did when he had something unpleasant to say.
"Guys, we are wiring the wrong place."
The tired techs looked at him without comprehension.
"We need to wire this to the main habitation sector drive axle engine. We are going to spin it up with the engines and run the damned thing like a dynamo."
The tired techs actually grinned at the craziness of the idea before they realised that they would have to re-wire the entire Tokomak engine cowling and do it fast. With groans and muttered oaths they grabbed their tools and started dismantling the heavy nul-res cable harness. Trulo ignored their tired protests completely. He knew it was only for show, every single one of his techs lived for this kind of work. As did he. With a lopsided grin he grabbed his tools and walked off to get his vacuum skin.
###
The walls were painted in the correct shade of nausea and the hidden lamps that emitted a pale green light that pulsed subtly with undertones of blue had, along with the single floor-fixed plasteel stool, been designed to invoke the maximum amount of discomfort to the person sitting in it. Unseen speakers were the only form of communication between the person in the room and the persons outside. In the junior Xang Xi official’s jargon the room was called the Purgatory since you went in and either came out promoted or came out to an escort of guards and a fast-track to the Xith mines. The young man sitting on the stool had a nasty suspicion that he might have to move his mailing address into the pits of Xith roid Amber Nine, the largest and deepest of the pits and the one reserved for people who the leadership of Uncle Xi didn't want to see again, ever. The light dimmed almost to black before restoring the soft glow, a further reminder why he was here. He shuffled his feet nervously but managed to keep his cool when the voice appeared out of the walls.
"What steps have you taken to rectify your mistake?"
The young man almost allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief but managed to control himself. They were not going to fry him!
"Naturally, I have punished the chief mechanic harshly and have initiated and am now implementing a new series of routines in order to ensure the reporting of any mission essential material that is deemed as irreplaceable within limited time as described in the charter laid out by the honoured board of directors, in order for said items to be re-purchased at a time that ensures the correct and timely replacement of these materials and items" he lied easily. Unfortunately, now he had to actually do all these things, as he was sure they would be controlled in detail.
"That all sounds very well and the board will naturally check these new routines out shortly. However, what of the current crisis on Daltas Hold? How are you going to rectify your mistake, the mistake that is now costing us millions of credits per day?"
Sweat starting pearling its way out onto his brow like morning dew on a cornfield but he tried to ignore it. He cleared his throat to ensure that he didn't stutter with the nervousness that just manifested itself again.
"I have sent a request for a new control relay to be sent with highest priority and with security flag red. A flight of Xang Xi Corporate Police Special Weapons unit Vultures are as we speak diverting to Dau to provide security for the item. I am expecting it here within six hours; another two hours for installing it, three hours to spin the Tokomak up again and within twelve hours we should have power to the main weapons capacitors. I am expecting that we can route power to the factory floor two hours after that and have full functionality within 48 hours with all vital functions."
The timings were at best a guess and a rather optimistic one at that but he had to give an optimistic view or he would be working outside the base without a suit in no time. In reality he didn't expect the base to be fully functional within the next two weeks and that was even without running into any SNAFU’s.
"Very well. The board expects you to uphold these timings. You will be evaluated based on your performance. Dismissed."
The light in the room changed to a cold white glare that clearly underlined the previous statement: he should leave and now. He got up on slightly wobbly legs and went out of the room, regaining his confidence with every second passing. He was going to solve this crisis and then it would be his time for a shot at the high board, sit on the other side of that screen.
###
"Okay son, take that with me once more. You say that the ships were not members of any known guild and that they were coordinated in their attack. What I don't get is that they apparently killed all the life support pods?"
Ironstar rolled his eyes in despair and annoyance. This was the fifth time they wanted him to elaborate on that. He leaned forward and put his elbows on the ebony table and gesticulated with his hands to underscore his statement.
"Listen, I can tell you the same thing fifteen times over and it doesn't change anything at all. Yes, they were not from a known guild, yes, they were very coordinated and no, I don't know why they slaughtered the pods."
He pushed himself back in the seat and folded his arms across his chest.
"I know, but it is importa..."
"Enaw."
Ecka's voice ended all further discussion with that single word as finally as if he had stopped time itself.
"Ah dinnae think 'at we can gie onie mair information by askin' Ironstarr th' sam questions repeatedly. Whit dae ye propose we dae ts?
"Well Sir, on the limited information we have I'd suggest sending a recce patrol along the next convoy going through the Sedina/Latos wormhole. Two ships kitted out for surveillance and running should be enough. And I'll see if my connections with PA and UIT has anything."
"I'll see what I can drum up with the missus down Serco way boss," Riddik offered.
"Ah agree. Sit it up an' lets see if we can gie some answers"
The command "dismissed" did not materialise, it very rarely did. Unlike the Xang Xi members, the TGFT council members were very seldom in doubt when Ecka Estenk closed the meeting and this was not one of those times. tsreknor walked over to Gramps and motioned with his head towards the door and together they walked to the small office of GSS. There was spook work to do.
Another great story, Horts.
TGFT> Stop being not Mr. Chaos.
TGFT> Stop being not Mr. Chaos.
It would seem that I'm two updates behind on reviews. I'm getting complacent...
Poor Fletholm. The man just can't seem to get a break, can he? Not to say that I'm particularly surprised, given how underfunded and understaffed UIT government agencies are. Well...except the UPK special operations subdivision, of course, but since when have they helped anyone?
It'll be interesting to see how TGFT handles things, though. Ecka & crew seem to be on top of things, although I imagine that the perpetrators of the current situation have anticipated that.
Good story as always, Hortan. I look forward to seeing how this plays out...
Poor Fletholm. The man just can't seem to get a break, can he? Not to say that I'm particularly surprised, given how underfunded and understaffed UIT government agencies are. Well...except the UPK special operations subdivision, of course, but since when have they helped anyone?
It'll be interesting to see how TGFT handles things, though. Ecka & crew seem to be on top of things, although I imagine that the perpetrators of the current situation have anticipated that.
Good story as always, Hortan. I look forward to seeing how this plays out...
Chapter 7
The soft red light streamed into the cockpit like the light filtering into a womb. The temperature was almost as high as well, the humidity just on the uncomfortable side of moist. The gentle music that flowed from the loudspeakers had been written almost four thousand years earlier by a young man from a country that had not existed for almost as long, on an instrument that the listener had no idea how looked. The soothing notes had originally been written for the long cold winter evenings but were equally suited for the tranquillity of mining in deep space. At least, that is what Hortan believed, that Chopin would have thought as well. The nocturne finished and Hortan checked the heat gauge on the large asteroid outside his cockpit. Three orange beams emanated from the front of his yellow-belly yellow Behemoth and stabbed through the crust of the asteroid to extract the Heliocene beneath, inadvertently heating the asteroid in the process. Almost 90 kelvin, time to stop the beams and go to the next roid. Hortan winked at the roid as he turned the beams off, slowly and methodically, one by one.
"Catch you later Lydia, I have to go see Tracy now."
He checked the cargo space and nodded. As alway, Lydia had yielded more than 110 crates of premium Heliocene ore. He would get the remaining 28 crates worth at Tracy without problems. He touched the controls lightly and smiled as the heavy mining ship turned smoothly until it was pointing towards the smaller roid. He reached for the turbo boost button that would feed maximum power to the engines and take him there at 160 m/s. His SSCU, the sub space communication unit, interrupted him with a large beep indicating that he was in secure, or crypto mode.
"Hortan, this is duty officer TGFT, respond."
Hortan sighed; the tranquillity was smashed by the demands of the real world. He depressed the call button.
"Hortan reads you loud and clear."
"Roger, get your system ready for a mission package, priority Bravo one."
Hortan flicked a couple of switches and gave the clear signal. A mission package opened on his display and he sighed deeply again.
"Roger, received and will start right away."
He turned the cumbersome ship towards open space and hit the turbo button, sinking slightly into the padded seat as the acceleration grabbed the ship and propelled it towards the nothing. He didn't like leaving with an almost empty cargo hold and he didn't like leaving the company of his girls, but a category Bravo One request was the highest order you got outside of a shooting scenario. Which kinda ensured that it was the highest priority Hortan would ever get. He flinched as the ship's warp engines tore a hole in reality, the sheer violence of the act being against his very soul and being, only breathing again when the ship safely exited on the other side in close proximity to the Aeolus Trading Prefect station.
He docked safely at his usual bay and went through the usual spin-down procedures. No reason to be sloppy just because he was in a hurry. He ejected the cargo to his already burgeoning holding area and paid the extra credits for even more cargo space. His limit of ten thousand crates free space had been filled more than a year ago and he had almost filled his newly allotted fifty thousand crates space, and in the process participated in expanding the station. For that reasons Aeolus Trading prefect was now the prime importer of plassteel in grey space. He scanned the local inventory list and settled on a mothload of Extra Fluffy Plush Synth-down pillows to take to Sedina. He was quite sure he knew exactly where in Daltas he could sell those, especially the pink and purple ones. With the cargo safely in the hold, he launched the mining Behemoth and set a course for Dau Senate to join the convoy going to Sedina. He dry swallowed an anxiety pill and smiled.
It was going to be all right.
It was going to be all right.
It was going to be all right.
He jumped out from Helios, eyes firmly closed and chanting.
###
John docked the Behemoth XC as carefully as always in TGFT HQ and powered down with a sigh of weariness. He had been doing non-stop transporting for the last 12 hours and had not been out of his seat during that time. As a matter of fact, he had only been out of the seat four or five times the last six days. He finished the post flight checks and opened the hatch to the station outside. Ah, the welcome noises and smells of other people. He grabbed the overhead handlebar and lifted himself out of the seat, wobbling a bit before re-gaining his balance on unsteady legs. He looked down his crumpled and food stained flight suit and touched a hand to his unshaven chin. Not that he cared much for his appearance right now, he would much prefer a nice long time in the Jacuzzi Room at the Priggly Pear with a White Russian and maybe one or two of the gi..
"Hi Lambin, have you seen John? I heard he just docked and wanted to say hello."
He was instantly transported back to the realities of his own life instead of John Eldritch, Trash Novel Hero™, his alter ego by the soft female voice.
"Oh, hi Miss Chi. No, I haven't seen him today. Unfortunately I am leaving myself so I can't even leave a message."
"No problem Lambin. I am sure I'll see him around. Stay safe now."
John looked around in semi-panic and found Chi about fifteen metres away facing Lambin's Hunter Green Valkyrie. He quickly walked away towards the TGFT living quarters, expecting to be called out at any moment. He didn't want her to see him all messed up like this. His luck was in apparently, and he arrived at his quarters without anyone seeing him. Once inside he stripped off the flight suit and underwear in one go, crumbling it into an undignified heap before kicking it into the laundry bag and stepped into the shower cubicle, shaving while he showered. The hot water needles forced new energy into him and he could suddenly feel his stomach grumble as if he had been without food for a week. Which in some sense was right, the tube gunk the ship dispensed could hardly be considered food. He had just stepped out of the shower when a soft knock at the door startled him. He half tripped and accidentally kicked the low table at the side of his bunk.
"One second."
He grabbed a clean pair of pants and rushed over to the door. He ran his fingers through the wet hair, folded the towel around his neck and opened the door. A young woman, brown shoulder length hair, brown eyes, a hint of freckles across the top of the petite nose stood outside, a cup of koffee in each hand. Her loose dress disguised the hard muscle John knew was underneath at the same time revealing precisely what... John felt something strange happening, something that usually happened to Hortan. He managed to croak a greeting.
"Hi Chi."
###
The four Vultures arrived at Dau Senate and moved to the docks in perfect unison, a study in teamwork. The Xang Xi Corporate Police Special Weapons unit had more than ten thousand hours of flying time divided between them and had often been used to demonstrate the clean and perfect world of Uncle Xi at flight shows and the like but were equally proficient in escorting. Mostly they escorted council members and high priority cargo so this was no unknown situation. They lined up in a diamond shape around the emerging convoy with the two regular security ships below and above the flight. The last arrival emerged from somewhere and moved to the edge of the convoy, the bright yellow coloured mining Behemoth a singular spot of brightness in the otherwise drably coloured convoy. A Hunter Green Valkyrie X-1 arrived shortly after and moved near the yellow Behemoth for security. They were not really a part of the convoy, merely two TGFT members flying in the same direction.
This was however not immediately apparent to Chaakin. He was observing the high priority request shipment to Sedina with cold eyes and a passive face, not betraying the calculations that ran at a fast pace inside his skull. He arrived at a conclusion, paid the pudgy young woman with the three cold-iron nose studs and orange hair, who was serving him at the Nova cafe for the Koffee and smiled at her as he left. Doesn't hurt to be polite to the working people. He dumped the crumpled container in the waste container and walked down to his Greyhound. He had seen what he wanted; fighting was about to happen. The fact that the convoy had two TGFT members just made it more appealing to his own guild’s members. Once inside his ship and safely launched, he opened his SSCU.
"Ardenus, expect a convoy inbound for Sedina in ten to thirty minutes. Standard attack pattern. Convoy consists of two Behemoth class cargo ships, one Atlas and possibly one Behemoth Mining ship. Security is six vultures and maybe one Valkyrie so we are going to need two teams. Send the pre-coded message to the contact first thing. Acknowledge."
The coded message squirted through to Sedina and the reply came almost instantly.
"Will do Raven. Any priorities?"
Chaakin smiled, or smiled as much as was possible underneath the mask. He knew what Ardenus was fishing for.
"It is a UIT convoy with Xang Xi security. Oh, and the mining moth and the valk are both TGFT. I am expecting the high priority cargo to be in the Atlas so that will have to be taken out first. After that, feel free. Nothing gets through."
"You said it. Nothing gets through."
Chaakin signed off and concentrated on flying. He had to switch ship before the engagement but there would still be ample time for him to get his part. The ferryman would need payment tonight.
###
Poppet Nahasedranha checked his readouts again and frowned. The ship continued to show that something was sending radio signals from somewhere on his ship and he couldn't figure out where it was from. He had made a lot of modifications to his ship a year ago to make it a better blockade-runner without it actually showing on neither the specs nor the look of his ship. He checked the readout on his turret gunner and grinned. Ah, there it was. The signal came from the turret gunner position. His last gunner had been killed during a particularly nasty blockade run in Deneb and he had just hired the current one. He had run a standard security check on him as usual but apparently he had not been told the truth. He set up a block to stop the radio signals and smiled when they stopped. That'll teach them to mess with his ship. And with any luck the gunner wouldn't even know until they had re-docked in Daltas hold. Poppet had a lot of very shady friends there, friends who dabbled in blades and hooks and exotic playthings. He'd find out who had bugged his ship. For now he needed to get this control unit to Daltas station.
The soft red light streamed into the cockpit like the light filtering into a womb. The temperature was almost as high as well, the humidity just on the uncomfortable side of moist. The gentle music that flowed from the loudspeakers had been written almost four thousand years earlier by a young man from a country that had not existed for almost as long, on an instrument that the listener had no idea how looked. The soothing notes had originally been written for the long cold winter evenings but were equally suited for the tranquillity of mining in deep space. At least, that is what Hortan believed, that Chopin would have thought as well. The nocturne finished and Hortan checked the heat gauge on the large asteroid outside his cockpit. Three orange beams emanated from the front of his yellow-belly yellow Behemoth and stabbed through the crust of the asteroid to extract the Heliocene beneath, inadvertently heating the asteroid in the process. Almost 90 kelvin, time to stop the beams and go to the next roid. Hortan winked at the roid as he turned the beams off, slowly and methodically, one by one.
"Catch you later Lydia, I have to go see Tracy now."
He checked the cargo space and nodded. As alway, Lydia had yielded more than 110 crates of premium Heliocene ore. He would get the remaining 28 crates worth at Tracy without problems. He touched the controls lightly and smiled as the heavy mining ship turned smoothly until it was pointing towards the smaller roid. He reached for the turbo boost button that would feed maximum power to the engines and take him there at 160 m/s. His SSCU, the sub space communication unit, interrupted him with a large beep indicating that he was in secure, or crypto mode.
"Hortan, this is duty officer TGFT, respond."
Hortan sighed; the tranquillity was smashed by the demands of the real world. He depressed the call button.
"Hortan reads you loud and clear."
"Roger, get your system ready for a mission package, priority Bravo one."
Hortan flicked a couple of switches and gave the clear signal. A mission package opened on his display and he sighed deeply again.
"Roger, received and will start right away."
He turned the cumbersome ship towards open space and hit the turbo button, sinking slightly into the padded seat as the acceleration grabbed the ship and propelled it towards the nothing. He didn't like leaving with an almost empty cargo hold and he didn't like leaving the company of his girls, but a category Bravo One request was the highest order you got outside of a shooting scenario. Which kinda ensured that it was the highest priority Hortan would ever get. He flinched as the ship's warp engines tore a hole in reality, the sheer violence of the act being against his very soul and being, only breathing again when the ship safely exited on the other side in close proximity to the Aeolus Trading Prefect station.
He docked safely at his usual bay and went through the usual spin-down procedures. No reason to be sloppy just because he was in a hurry. He ejected the cargo to his already burgeoning holding area and paid the extra credits for even more cargo space. His limit of ten thousand crates free space had been filled more than a year ago and he had almost filled his newly allotted fifty thousand crates space, and in the process participated in expanding the station. For that reasons Aeolus Trading prefect was now the prime importer of plassteel in grey space. He scanned the local inventory list and settled on a mothload of Extra Fluffy Plush Synth-down pillows to take to Sedina. He was quite sure he knew exactly where in Daltas he could sell those, especially the pink and purple ones. With the cargo safely in the hold, he launched the mining Behemoth and set a course for Dau Senate to join the convoy going to Sedina. He dry swallowed an anxiety pill and smiled.
It was going to be all right.
It was going to be all right.
It was going to be all right.
He jumped out from Helios, eyes firmly closed and chanting.
###
John docked the Behemoth XC as carefully as always in TGFT HQ and powered down with a sigh of weariness. He had been doing non-stop transporting for the last 12 hours and had not been out of his seat during that time. As a matter of fact, he had only been out of the seat four or five times the last six days. He finished the post flight checks and opened the hatch to the station outside. Ah, the welcome noises and smells of other people. He grabbed the overhead handlebar and lifted himself out of the seat, wobbling a bit before re-gaining his balance on unsteady legs. He looked down his crumpled and food stained flight suit and touched a hand to his unshaven chin. Not that he cared much for his appearance right now, he would much prefer a nice long time in the Jacuzzi Room at the Priggly Pear with a White Russian and maybe one or two of the gi..
"Hi Lambin, have you seen John? I heard he just docked and wanted to say hello."
He was instantly transported back to the realities of his own life instead of John Eldritch, Trash Novel Hero™, his alter ego by the soft female voice.
"Oh, hi Miss Chi. No, I haven't seen him today. Unfortunately I am leaving myself so I can't even leave a message."
"No problem Lambin. I am sure I'll see him around. Stay safe now."
John looked around in semi-panic and found Chi about fifteen metres away facing Lambin's Hunter Green Valkyrie. He quickly walked away towards the TGFT living quarters, expecting to be called out at any moment. He didn't want her to see him all messed up like this. His luck was in apparently, and he arrived at his quarters without anyone seeing him. Once inside he stripped off the flight suit and underwear in one go, crumbling it into an undignified heap before kicking it into the laundry bag and stepped into the shower cubicle, shaving while he showered. The hot water needles forced new energy into him and he could suddenly feel his stomach grumble as if he had been without food for a week. Which in some sense was right, the tube gunk the ship dispensed could hardly be considered food. He had just stepped out of the shower when a soft knock at the door startled him. He half tripped and accidentally kicked the low table at the side of his bunk.
"One second."
He grabbed a clean pair of pants and rushed over to the door. He ran his fingers through the wet hair, folded the towel around his neck and opened the door. A young woman, brown shoulder length hair, brown eyes, a hint of freckles across the top of the petite nose stood outside, a cup of koffee in each hand. Her loose dress disguised the hard muscle John knew was underneath at the same time revealing precisely what... John felt something strange happening, something that usually happened to Hortan. He managed to croak a greeting.
"Hi Chi."
###
The four Vultures arrived at Dau Senate and moved to the docks in perfect unison, a study in teamwork. The Xang Xi Corporate Police Special Weapons unit had more than ten thousand hours of flying time divided between them and had often been used to demonstrate the clean and perfect world of Uncle Xi at flight shows and the like but were equally proficient in escorting. Mostly they escorted council members and high priority cargo so this was no unknown situation. They lined up in a diamond shape around the emerging convoy with the two regular security ships below and above the flight. The last arrival emerged from somewhere and moved to the edge of the convoy, the bright yellow coloured mining Behemoth a singular spot of brightness in the otherwise drably coloured convoy. A Hunter Green Valkyrie X-1 arrived shortly after and moved near the yellow Behemoth for security. They were not really a part of the convoy, merely two TGFT members flying in the same direction.
This was however not immediately apparent to Chaakin. He was observing the high priority request shipment to Sedina with cold eyes and a passive face, not betraying the calculations that ran at a fast pace inside his skull. He arrived at a conclusion, paid the pudgy young woman with the three cold-iron nose studs and orange hair, who was serving him at the Nova cafe for the Koffee and smiled at her as he left. Doesn't hurt to be polite to the working people. He dumped the crumpled container in the waste container and walked down to his Greyhound. He had seen what he wanted; fighting was about to happen. The fact that the convoy had two TGFT members just made it more appealing to his own guild’s members. Once inside his ship and safely launched, he opened his SSCU.
"Ardenus, expect a convoy inbound for Sedina in ten to thirty minutes. Standard attack pattern. Convoy consists of two Behemoth class cargo ships, one Atlas and possibly one Behemoth Mining ship. Security is six vultures and maybe one Valkyrie so we are going to need two teams. Send the pre-coded message to the contact first thing. Acknowledge."
The coded message squirted through to Sedina and the reply came almost instantly.
"Will do Raven. Any priorities?"
Chaakin smiled, or smiled as much as was possible underneath the mask. He knew what Ardenus was fishing for.
"It is a UIT convoy with Xang Xi security. Oh, and the mining moth and the valk are both TGFT. I am expecting the high priority cargo to be in the Atlas so that will have to be taken out first. After that, feel free. Nothing gets through."
"You said it. Nothing gets through."
Chaakin signed off and concentrated on flying. He had to switch ship before the engagement but there would still be ample time for him to get his part. The ferryman would need payment tonight.
###
Poppet Nahasedranha checked his readouts again and frowned. The ship continued to show that something was sending radio signals from somewhere on his ship and he couldn't figure out where it was from. He had made a lot of modifications to his ship a year ago to make it a better blockade-runner without it actually showing on neither the specs nor the look of his ship. He checked the readout on his turret gunner and grinned. Ah, there it was. The signal came from the turret gunner position. His last gunner had been killed during a particularly nasty blockade run in Deneb and he had just hired the current one. He had run a standard security check on him as usual but apparently he had not been told the truth. He set up a block to stop the radio signals and smiled when they stopped. That'll teach them to mess with his ship. And with any luck the gunner wouldn't even know until they had re-docked in Daltas hold. Poppet had a lot of very shady friends there, friends who dabbled in blades and hooks and exotic playthings. He'd find out who had bugged his ship. For now he needed to get this control unit to Daltas station.
I think John needs to read more of his own novels.
Awesome read, as usual, Hortan.
Chapter 8
Tohasandra Chi grinned as she saw John's back disappear down the corridor towards the TGFT living quarters. He probably thought he had escaped without anyone noticing. She walked down towards his quarters, reconsidering halfway and detoured to Soggy's Waffle and Pancake shop for a couple of take-away Verasi Koffee. Foo McQuux, one of the new TGFT pilots and some young blonde woman were seated near the exit and Chi nodded and smiled at them as she left again. She accessed her implant and attached the scanned picture of the young woman to Foo’s file for further follow-up. As an operative of PA security, she was always at work. She strolled down towards John's quarters without hurry, stopping in front of the door with the signs "J. Eldritch and Waldoze" on it and kicked the door softly, balancing easily with a cup of Koffee in each hand. A crash sounded from the inside followed by a muffled "One second" call. The door opened in a wave of hot moist air. John filled the frame, the water still dripping from his hair onto the towel casually slung around his naked shoulders. His voice sounded awkward as he greeted her and she believed that she spotted a slight reddening in his face and on his chest.
"Ehm, hi John. Welcome back. I had just bought some Koffee and had one too many and thought you'd like a cup."
"Right, ah, thank you Chi."
She could almost kick herself for the nonsensical chatter that had just flowed from her. She should know better than that. She behaved like... like a teenager. He grabbed one of the cups and they both sipped slowly, none of them moving from the door, both of them avoiding each other’s eyes. The silence was almost tangible and painful. Chi tried to think of something to say.
"So, are you up for some?"
John very loudly mis-swallowed some Koffee and choked slightly before answering.
"Suuure, ehm. What exactly did you have in mind?"
Chi grinned fiercely and looked directly in his eyes.
"Krav Maga off course silly. What did you think?"
"Oh, right. My thoughts precisely Chi. Let me get my kit, meet you there in ten?"
Chi nodded and turned away, stealing a glimpse over her shoulder at John as he closed the door again. She was fairly certain he hadn't thought of Krav Maga but then again, neither had she to be honest.
###
Lambin piloted his Valkyrie with the fluent grace of countless hours of combat patrols towards the Latos wormhole, Hortan's mining Behemoth right behind him with not so fluent grace. The harsh blue-white light of the Latos sun created shadow figures in his cockpit that were almost sharp enough to cut yourself on. Lambin checked the radar, all clear as he expected. The next jump would be the critical one for the convoy if they were going to be attacked. He checked the flight path of Hortan's ship and frowned when the Behemoth failed to respond until a whole second after it had exited from the wormhole. The ship moved in a straight line as if nobody were at the controls. He flicked the SSCU.
"Hortan, do you have navigation problems buddy?"
The reply was initially drowned in some hideous noise, "No Lambin, I am quite fine thank you."
"Roger, you seem to be without control there for a second."
"Ehm, yes. I can't really steer it until I open my eyes."
"Wait, you close your eyes for jumping?"
"Yes, it helps me overcome the trauma of jumping. The music helps too, it drowns out the noises the ship makes in transit."
Lambin shook his head and grinned. Nobody else would prefer to go into un-scouted territory blind and deaf, a bit like that large flightless bird on old Sol he had heard about in kindergarten many years ago.
"Roger, just be careful with the next one okay? This may be where they hit us. I'll fly on your six and keep the bogeys of you but you have to stay focused. I'll make sure to give you directions, okay?"
"Willco Lambin. I'll try my best."
Lambin disengaged the SSCU and focused on flying. The diamond shape formation of the four Xang Xi Vultures was as writ in stone, and the trade ships were safely contained inside the boundary. If the pilots were half as good combat pilots as they were at flying formation, the pirates were surely in for a fight. His warp engine readout turned from yellow to amber and he prepared for the go signal. He jumped into Latos O-12, hands tense around the sticks and weapons primed for firing. No radar signal, all seemed clear. The roid field to the left and up was very dense and surely dense enough to mask a ship so he moved himself into a position where he could protect Hortan from any nasty surprises. The patrol, scattered by the uncertainties of warp travel that was a direct function of Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle, moved in under the protection of the diamond formation and started heading for the wormhole. Lambin thought he received a small radar echo from the roids and was about to send a warning to the flight lead when six circles of exotic radiation announced the arrival of the bad guys. The pirates, or whatever they were, immediately boosted for the main part of the convoy, firing flares at the tightly packed ships as if they had a million of the damned things on board.
Lambin triggered his turbo and surged forward to engage, firing a flare of his own when he reached maximum velocity. The flare detonated between a Marauder and a Valkyrie, damaging both ship and alerting the pilots to his attack. The next flare was thundering towards them before they could turn and take evasive action, heavily damaging the opposing Valkyrie and glancing the Marauder. The easy time was, however, over and the two pirates launched flares back in retaliation and to make him dodge from his course. He dropped the turbo, twisted and fired the dorsal boosters, easily dodging the two flares but breaking his own lock. He dropped the nose on his ship while dodging and waited for the small diamond shape in his display to turn green for energy weapons. The flare that impacted on his nose was not what he had expected. Apparently one of the two opponents had a twin flare launcher and used them to fire single shots. He thumbed the turbo slightly and sent a flare in the general direction of the ships to get some breathing space. A string of positrons flashed overhead of his ship like blue darts and he thumbed the top thrusters to avoid it, sending his ship directly into another string of particles, these greatly accelerated neutrons. His ship rang like a church bell as fist sized chunks of Xithricite armour turned to dust. He thumbed the turbo button again and twisted the nose downwards, getting a new firing resolution on the Valkyrie. Shouting an obscenity, he fired both his Axia positron guns, stitching a series of holes across the already damaged top of the opposing Valkyrie. The pirate broke off and Lambin engaged the turbo solidly and rocketed out of engagement range, the Marauder hot on his tail. He checked the radar and wasn't impressed with what he saw. The other four pirates had killed all but one of the guard Vultures and the Greyhound was now chasing the Atlas, probably catching it within seconds. And Hortan was just hanging there, all still.
"Hort, get the hell away."
"...broken...awaiting direct... out"
Lambin cursed, the kind of swearing that would make an old sailor blush in embarrassment and consider a new life of piety.
"Get away. Don't fly to the roids, it is not safe from the pirates."
Lambin found out what Hortan had said. It was not out as in this message is over. It was look out. The flare from the Marauder hit his ship in the rear and tossed him ass over head, allowing the following Valkyrie to hammer positrons into his engine. The ship exploded, the force of the explosion tearing the following Valkyrie into five tons of expensive scrap, at the same time ripping most of the armour away from the flank of his wingman. The heavily damaged Marauder ignored the two lifepods, turned through the debris to face the mining Behemoth and hit the turbo.
###
The light blue and deep crimson battle scarred Centaur III stayed outside the restricted fire zone of Daltas hold, skirting any attempts at interception by the local strike force. The pilot almost fired a string of shots at the small figures that clung to the outer skin of the station like tics on a human's body but restrained himself. It was after all not why he was here, even though the bloodletting would satisfy him to no end. He found the correct opening on the station easily, aided by the fact that the huge habitation module wasn't rotating, and made an attack run, dodging and weaving to avoid the hostile guards' neutron fire. About 120 metres away from the one by one metre opening the pilot opened his cargo bay and ejected the rugby-sized silver container, breaking off and twisting underneath a heat sink panel that was remarkably cold to his sensors and once more boosted for open space. Message delivered.
###
Fletholm tore one corner off the small satchel with powdered soy milk and slowly shook the contents into his mug of bitter tea while stirring with the opposite end of the pencil he had just sharpened. The door opened and someone entered without waiting for permission. Fletholm sighed, he knew who it was, he knew it was probably bad news and so he continued stirring his tea until he was satisfied and tasted it, careful not to let the scalding liquid burn his tongue. He smacked his lips in satisfaction, leaned back and looked at Eggert with his best spymaster glare, the one he had tried to cultivate with about as much success as the thin whispery moustache that never seemed to grow into anything.
"What."
The word was a statement, a question and a permission to say whatever it was Eggert wanted to unload on the commander all in one. He sipped some more tea while Eggert unconcerned walked over to the table and grabbed one of the three Verasi Spice Kookies on Fletholm's plate and stuffed it into his mouth. Fletholm grabbed one as well and started dipping it into his tea, softening it before breaking a piece off with his lips, waiting for Eggert to finish eating.
"We lost the tracer on the convoy to Sedina. Actually we lost the telemetry transponder at Dau as expected but we just lost the primary tracer about two minutes ago."
Eggert reached for the last Kookie but Fletholm was faster and managed to snatch it before it disappeared.
"That doesn't halfway explain my question. Spill it."
"Yes Sir. The convoy is assumed destroyed. The tracer should piggyback on any SSCU channel continuously being an autonomous system and should be well-nigh undetectable. We can't even see the damned things ourselves unless we are looking for them and know where they are. Which leaves us with the conclusion that the vessel it was attached to was destroyed by massive fire, destroying the tracer in the process."
Fletholm dipped the last Kookie into the tea and slurped the tea-soaked morsel of goodness, enjoying it even more because it was the last one. In fact, enjoying it mostly because he snatched it from under the nose of Eggert.
"I guess I better drum on the pipes a bit. You get TPG and PA, I'll see what I can get out of Corvus and GSS."
"No problem Sir."
Eggert grinned and mock-saluted before exiting the office. Fletholm sighed, he'd better get the Itani and Serco intelligence services as well. Even though it was grey space stuff they might know something. Especially if their precious Xith transports were afflicted.
Tohasandra Chi grinned as she saw John's back disappear down the corridor towards the TGFT living quarters. He probably thought he had escaped without anyone noticing. She walked down towards his quarters, reconsidering halfway and detoured to Soggy's Waffle and Pancake shop for a couple of take-away Verasi Koffee. Foo McQuux, one of the new TGFT pilots and some young blonde woman were seated near the exit and Chi nodded and smiled at them as she left again. She accessed her implant and attached the scanned picture of the young woman to Foo’s file for further follow-up. As an operative of PA security, she was always at work. She strolled down towards John's quarters without hurry, stopping in front of the door with the signs "J. Eldritch and Waldoze" on it and kicked the door softly, balancing easily with a cup of Koffee in each hand. A crash sounded from the inside followed by a muffled "One second" call. The door opened in a wave of hot moist air. John filled the frame, the water still dripping from his hair onto the towel casually slung around his naked shoulders. His voice sounded awkward as he greeted her and she believed that she spotted a slight reddening in his face and on his chest.
"Ehm, hi John. Welcome back. I had just bought some Koffee and had one too many and thought you'd like a cup."
"Right, ah, thank you Chi."
She could almost kick herself for the nonsensical chatter that had just flowed from her. She should know better than that. She behaved like... like a teenager. He grabbed one of the cups and they both sipped slowly, none of them moving from the door, both of them avoiding each other’s eyes. The silence was almost tangible and painful. Chi tried to think of something to say.
"So, are you up for some?"
John very loudly mis-swallowed some Koffee and choked slightly before answering.
"Suuure, ehm. What exactly did you have in mind?"
Chi grinned fiercely and looked directly in his eyes.
"Krav Maga off course silly. What did you think?"
"Oh, right. My thoughts precisely Chi. Let me get my kit, meet you there in ten?"
Chi nodded and turned away, stealing a glimpse over her shoulder at John as he closed the door again. She was fairly certain he hadn't thought of Krav Maga but then again, neither had she to be honest.
###
Lambin piloted his Valkyrie with the fluent grace of countless hours of combat patrols towards the Latos wormhole, Hortan's mining Behemoth right behind him with not so fluent grace. The harsh blue-white light of the Latos sun created shadow figures in his cockpit that were almost sharp enough to cut yourself on. Lambin checked the radar, all clear as he expected. The next jump would be the critical one for the convoy if they were going to be attacked. He checked the flight path of Hortan's ship and frowned when the Behemoth failed to respond until a whole second after it had exited from the wormhole. The ship moved in a straight line as if nobody were at the controls. He flicked the SSCU.
"Hortan, do you have navigation problems buddy?"
The reply was initially drowned in some hideous noise, "No Lambin, I am quite fine thank you."
"Roger, you seem to be without control there for a second."
"Ehm, yes. I can't really steer it until I open my eyes."
"Wait, you close your eyes for jumping?"
"Yes, it helps me overcome the trauma of jumping. The music helps too, it drowns out the noises the ship makes in transit."
Lambin shook his head and grinned. Nobody else would prefer to go into un-scouted territory blind and deaf, a bit like that large flightless bird on old Sol he had heard about in kindergarten many years ago.
"Roger, just be careful with the next one okay? This may be where they hit us. I'll fly on your six and keep the bogeys of you but you have to stay focused. I'll make sure to give you directions, okay?"
"Willco Lambin. I'll try my best."
Lambin disengaged the SSCU and focused on flying. The diamond shape formation of the four Xang Xi Vultures was as writ in stone, and the trade ships were safely contained inside the boundary. If the pilots were half as good combat pilots as they were at flying formation, the pirates were surely in for a fight. His warp engine readout turned from yellow to amber and he prepared for the go signal. He jumped into Latos O-12, hands tense around the sticks and weapons primed for firing. No radar signal, all seemed clear. The roid field to the left and up was very dense and surely dense enough to mask a ship so he moved himself into a position where he could protect Hortan from any nasty surprises. The patrol, scattered by the uncertainties of warp travel that was a direct function of Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle, moved in under the protection of the diamond formation and started heading for the wormhole. Lambin thought he received a small radar echo from the roids and was about to send a warning to the flight lead when six circles of exotic radiation announced the arrival of the bad guys. The pirates, or whatever they were, immediately boosted for the main part of the convoy, firing flares at the tightly packed ships as if they had a million of the damned things on board.
Lambin triggered his turbo and surged forward to engage, firing a flare of his own when he reached maximum velocity. The flare detonated between a Marauder and a Valkyrie, damaging both ship and alerting the pilots to his attack. The next flare was thundering towards them before they could turn and take evasive action, heavily damaging the opposing Valkyrie and glancing the Marauder. The easy time was, however, over and the two pirates launched flares back in retaliation and to make him dodge from his course. He dropped the turbo, twisted and fired the dorsal boosters, easily dodging the two flares but breaking his own lock. He dropped the nose on his ship while dodging and waited for the small diamond shape in his display to turn green for energy weapons. The flare that impacted on his nose was not what he had expected. Apparently one of the two opponents had a twin flare launcher and used them to fire single shots. He thumbed the turbo slightly and sent a flare in the general direction of the ships to get some breathing space. A string of positrons flashed overhead of his ship like blue darts and he thumbed the top thrusters to avoid it, sending his ship directly into another string of particles, these greatly accelerated neutrons. His ship rang like a church bell as fist sized chunks of Xithricite armour turned to dust. He thumbed the turbo button again and twisted the nose downwards, getting a new firing resolution on the Valkyrie. Shouting an obscenity, he fired both his Axia positron guns, stitching a series of holes across the already damaged top of the opposing Valkyrie. The pirate broke off and Lambin engaged the turbo solidly and rocketed out of engagement range, the Marauder hot on his tail. He checked the radar and wasn't impressed with what he saw. The other four pirates had killed all but one of the guard Vultures and the Greyhound was now chasing the Atlas, probably catching it within seconds. And Hortan was just hanging there, all still.
"Hort, get the hell away."
"...broken...awaiting direct... out"
Lambin cursed, the kind of swearing that would make an old sailor blush in embarrassment and consider a new life of piety.
"Get away. Don't fly to the roids, it is not safe from the pirates."
Lambin found out what Hortan had said. It was not out as in this message is over. It was look out. The flare from the Marauder hit his ship in the rear and tossed him ass over head, allowing the following Valkyrie to hammer positrons into his engine. The ship exploded, the force of the explosion tearing the following Valkyrie into five tons of expensive scrap, at the same time ripping most of the armour away from the flank of his wingman. The heavily damaged Marauder ignored the two lifepods, turned through the debris to face the mining Behemoth and hit the turbo.
###
The light blue and deep crimson battle scarred Centaur III stayed outside the restricted fire zone of Daltas hold, skirting any attempts at interception by the local strike force. The pilot almost fired a string of shots at the small figures that clung to the outer skin of the station like tics on a human's body but restrained himself. It was after all not why he was here, even though the bloodletting would satisfy him to no end. He found the correct opening on the station easily, aided by the fact that the huge habitation module wasn't rotating, and made an attack run, dodging and weaving to avoid the hostile guards' neutron fire. About 120 metres away from the one by one metre opening the pilot opened his cargo bay and ejected the rugby-sized silver container, breaking off and twisting underneath a heat sink panel that was remarkably cold to his sensors and once more boosted for open space. Message delivered.
###
Fletholm tore one corner off the small satchel with powdered soy milk and slowly shook the contents into his mug of bitter tea while stirring with the opposite end of the pencil he had just sharpened. The door opened and someone entered without waiting for permission. Fletholm sighed, he knew who it was, he knew it was probably bad news and so he continued stirring his tea until he was satisfied and tasted it, careful not to let the scalding liquid burn his tongue. He smacked his lips in satisfaction, leaned back and looked at Eggert with his best spymaster glare, the one he had tried to cultivate with about as much success as the thin whispery moustache that never seemed to grow into anything.
"What."
The word was a statement, a question and a permission to say whatever it was Eggert wanted to unload on the commander all in one. He sipped some more tea while Eggert unconcerned walked over to the table and grabbed one of the three Verasi Spice Kookies on Fletholm's plate and stuffed it into his mouth. Fletholm grabbed one as well and started dipping it into his tea, softening it before breaking a piece off with his lips, waiting for Eggert to finish eating.
"We lost the tracer on the convoy to Sedina. Actually we lost the telemetry transponder at Dau as expected but we just lost the primary tracer about two minutes ago."
Eggert reached for the last Kookie but Fletholm was faster and managed to snatch it before it disappeared.
"That doesn't halfway explain my question. Spill it."
"Yes Sir. The convoy is assumed destroyed. The tracer should piggyback on any SSCU channel continuously being an autonomous system and should be well-nigh undetectable. We can't even see the damned things ourselves unless we are looking for them and know where they are. Which leaves us with the conclusion that the vessel it was attached to was destroyed by massive fire, destroying the tracer in the process."
Fletholm dipped the last Kookie into the tea and slurped the tea-soaked morsel of goodness, enjoying it even more because it was the last one. In fact, enjoying it mostly because he snatched it from under the nose of Eggert.
"I guess I better drum on the pipes a bit. You get TPG and PA, I'll see what I can get out of Corvus and GSS."
"No problem Sir."
Eggert grinned and mock-saluted before exiting the office. Fletholm sighed, he'd better get the Itani and Serco intelligence services as well. Even though it was grey space stuff they might know something. Especially if their precious Xith transports were afflicted.
Chapter 9
Hortan closed the communication to Lambin and smiled. Nothing, only the beautiful asteroid field hanging as nuggets of familiarity against the harsh absolute blackness of deep space with the convoy moving on metre long plasma spears. The tranquillity was irrevocably destroyed by the six rings of exotic radiation that bathed the convoy in a shower of particles that was quickly followed by flares, neutrons, positrons and plasma. Hortan swallowed nervously, his normal reaction to this would be to turn tail and run, run as fast as he could. But Lambin had told him to wait for orders and so he did. He looked away from the intense violence and flinched as blinding light flooded his ship when weapons impacted on the xithricite armour of the cargo vessels. The inter-system communication unit crackled.
"Hortan...way."
Hortan thumbed the button for his own unit and replied nervously.
"Hi there friend Lambin. You come in broken and distorted, almost unreadable. I am awaiting directions as you said and I am ready to move wherever you want me to move with as much speed as I can. Oh Lambin, they have fired at you..look out!"
The heavy interference from ionised armour plating almost reduced the communication to sheer noise but Lambin's signal punched through.
"..way...fly...roids...safe...rats"
Finally someone was making sense. He would fly to the roids and find a safe place away from the pirates. He turned the lumbering mining Behemoth around and thumbed the turbo to get away from the expanding cloud of debris that had been Lambin's Valkyrie seconds before. He reached the roid field safely and scanned for a hiding place. Maybe they would leave him alone if he just gave his cargo away. He turned hard around a heavy ferric roid and ejected the cargo, creating a screen he could hide behind. There, a depression in that aquean ore roid would fit nicely if only he.. An idea formed and he turboed towards the roid, only turning the now empty ship at the last second with a manoeuvre that would be impressive in a Centurion, blasting kilo-tonnes of water off the surface of the roid and burying the Behemoth a couple of metres into the roid, the blasted water covering the impact site with a glistening new sheen of ice. The ship had disappeared.
The disappearance was not unexpected for the Marauder pilot; it was normal that ships disappeared when they entered roidfields. He had turboed as fast as he could to intercept the bright yellow coloured Behemoth and had even smirked when he saw that the big ship ran to the roidfield instead of towards open space. The newb in that ship was as good as dead. The large Nickel-Iron roid directly in front of him was obviously blocking his targeting radar and with a slight push from his top thrusters he skimmed the surface of the roid expertly and used the mass of the roid to let him be slingshot into the roid field. Or that was the idea. The large roid ensured that his radar hadn't detected the 140 crates of extra fluffy synth-down pillows and he impacted with the 30 tonne mass of softness and more important, their wrapping. If he had been at full armour he wouldn't even have detected the impact as more than a slight scratch on his paintjob but he had been severely damaged in the previous encounter. A low-quality iron hinge ricocheted of the front xithricite armour plate, hit the side of his flare launcher and short-circuited the control board, launching a flare into the asteroid immediately in front of him. If he had used standard flares he would have been okay, he would have been able to dodge his own weapons fire. He used the Corvus variant, however, the one with no delay on arming. The flare did as it should, it exploded right after launching, right after hammering into the pillows. The ejection pod on the Marauder fired and the ship exploded, scattering shrapnel all over the clean smooth icesheet on the roid in front of it, masking the hiding place.
###
The tip is the extension of the finger, which is the extension of the hand, which is the extension of the arm, which is the extension of the body, which is the extension of the mind. His mind reached out and touched the precise nerve point on his opponent’s shoulder that blocked the muscles in the left arm from working. A short step back and his mind reached out again, this time letting his leg, foot, toe and tip extend and impact beneath the right pectoral muscle beneath the two ribs that covered the heart and focusing the power from all of his body in a narrow cone that tore through the plasteel heart like a sledgehammer through a carton of eggs. John stepped back and regained his starting position, ready for the next opponent. None came forth as he well knew; he had only programmed one Serco training droid after all.
"Most impressive John."
"Just a thing or two I picked up when I was waiting for a particularly large shipment of Coolant on Eo Miss Chi."
She knew very well that John had undertaken six months of extremely hard and advanced close combat training at the Itani Special Forces martial arts training school. And she knew that he knew as well. The rules of playing the spook's game apparently.
"I am not sure I can provide a challenge anymore."
John grinned widely and relaxed into the casual Krav Maga stance.
"I am sure you can figure something out Miss Chi."
She moved gracefully, almost fluently forward and struck at his face, disguising the real attack in the form of a sweeping foot that should have impacted on his calf. His leg was not there. John had seen the tension in her upper body as she struck and moved accordingly, kicking her other leg away from under her. She landed as heavily as you only did when completely surprised. John was still in the casual stance, his grin slightly wider.
"Right, " she said getting up, "I see I have to cheat a bit."
She brought her brainpal online and accessed the master-level Aikido programme. Not as intuitive as real human experience, it would boost her the extra bit she needed right now. She attacked him with one foot towards the chest that was easily deflected but allowed her to move in closer. John tried swiping her to one side but Chi ducked easily and moved even closer, having her hip in connection with his upper thigh. He tried to hit her in the side of her head with an elbow and she flowed with the blow, using his rotational energy against him and throwing him over her hip onto the floor mat, sliding out of his reach. She nodded at him.
"Touché."
John grinned and got up.
"Didn't know you did Aikido. Interesting."
She raised one eyebrow in response and waited for him to get ready. He assumed the casual stance again and extended a hand, waving her forward with the tips of his fingers, Morpheus style.
###
The message that William Cutting had delivered unpacked itself and gained limited sentience. It used its newly discovered powers to investigate its environment and found that it was driven by a ferocious need to fulfil the mission that was hard-coded into its programming, a sensation not unlike hunger. Like a real life worm, the software wiggled its way into the main routing network, devouring several HK programmes on the way and boring through two firewalls, exiting slightly singed on the other side but strengthened by the added sense of being close to its target, and started searching for the right address on the station net. It found four possible candidates that all came up as recipients. Only one of these was a person, the other three were merely sifters, programmes that had been put in place to find anything interesting and relay it to the programmers. The sifters were unaware of each other and in reality it wouldn't have mattered if they knew about the existence of any of the other. The data would still be copied and forwarded. The message did not have any form of parameter of choosing which one was the right recipient and so it delivered its message to all of them indiscriminately .The Xang Xi junior official that received the message opened it and so did the UIT intelligence, the Valent External Security Forces and eventually NP, spymaster of PA. With the delivery, its sense of purpose ceased and the worm erased itself all the way back to the container and ignited the magnesium casing, erasing any evidence of it ever being there. The whole process took less than a second. The message was simple.
"We have your property. Pay 250 million or the death will be on your hands. Follow the information at the end of the message to find out how. Asteroth, 2iC KAOS"
###
Da Gu entered into reality safely cocooned in his Warthog Mk II and activated the scanner. He frowned; the IFF of the automated Sercan Xithricite convoy should be exiting the station just about now. No debris, no twice cursed members of ITAN or thrice cursed members of SKV to destroy the bots either. Something was very wrong indeed. The automated convoy was the single most important resource that was to come out of Grey space, so important that Sky Command had asked the elite military and semi-private guild ONE to guard it along with the normal weaponeered bots. Some time ago the Itani had almost succeeded in closing the pipeline to Daltas Hold but a concerted and prolonged struggle had eventually forced the most hated of all enemies away from Sedina. These days only single ships from both ITAN and SKV were able to interrupt the convoy, and then only to limited effect when ONE escorted the convoy. This time, however, it didn't look like the bots had been destroyed. Da Gu opened a connection to the station and requested permission to dock. He would have to speak to the officials and find out what was wrong. The denial of his request was not expected and he was initially confused as to what he should do. He punched the guild channel and sent out a general hail.
"Da Gu, this is Folks Dokaris. Do you need assistance? I have Aelius in Odia and he can be there shortly."
"Not as such Lieutenant. There seems to be some problems with the Xith convoy. And for some reason I have just been refused docking rights to Daltas Hold. Do we have any quarrels with Xang Xi I was unaware of?"
There was a short break before Folks answered.
"Not that I am aware off, nothing official anyway. I'll have a check, I'll get back to you."
Da Gu was left with the silence of his cockpit, or as silent as it ever got. The usual sounds of working machinery provided a safe background that he could easily tune out. If it had at any moment been missing he would be scared. The radio crackled.
"No, but we seem to have lost about two days worth of shipments. I'll push this one up the chain, can you guard the station?"
"Yeah, I'll make sure it isn't some Itani ploy. Can you get Aelius to sweep in Odia?"
The deep voice that belonged to the always-brooding Aelius cut through.
"Already working it Gu. Just sit tight little buddy."
Da Gu grinned, Aelius insisted on calling everybody little buddy to emphasise that with his almost 9 feet, he towered over just about everybody. At no time was it more fun than when Keria had her husband around. Although Riddik was one of the most massive persons, Serco or otherwise, that Da Gu had ever seen, he still came in a whole inch below Aelius. And Riddik didn't take all too kindly to be called little buddy.
"Da Gu, I have dispatched a couple of Prom's to cover you if needed. They will stay in Latos for now."
Da Gu acknowledged with a double click and leaned back in his seat. Folks was on it, they would work it out.
Hortan closed the communication to Lambin and smiled. Nothing, only the beautiful asteroid field hanging as nuggets of familiarity against the harsh absolute blackness of deep space with the convoy moving on metre long plasma spears. The tranquillity was irrevocably destroyed by the six rings of exotic radiation that bathed the convoy in a shower of particles that was quickly followed by flares, neutrons, positrons and plasma. Hortan swallowed nervously, his normal reaction to this would be to turn tail and run, run as fast as he could. But Lambin had told him to wait for orders and so he did. He looked away from the intense violence and flinched as blinding light flooded his ship when weapons impacted on the xithricite armour of the cargo vessels. The inter-system communication unit crackled.
"Hortan...way."
Hortan thumbed the button for his own unit and replied nervously.
"Hi there friend Lambin. You come in broken and distorted, almost unreadable. I am awaiting directions as you said and I am ready to move wherever you want me to move with as much speed as I can. Oh Lambin, they have fired at you..look out!"
The heavy interference from ionised armour plating almost reduced the communication to sheer noise but Lambin's signal punched through.
"..way...fly...roids...safe...rats"
Finally someone was making sense. He would fly to the roids and find a safe place away from the pirates. He turned the lumbering mining Behemoth around and thumbed the turbo to get away from the expanding cloud of debris that had been Lambin's Valkyrie seconds before. He reached the roid field safely and scanned for a hiding place. Maybe they would leave him alone if he just gave his cargo away. He turned hard around a heavy ferric roid and ejected the cargo, creating a screen he could hide behind. There, a depression in that aquean ore roid would fit nicely if only he.. An idea formed and he turboed towards the roid, only turning the now empty ship at the last second with a manoeuvre that would be impressive in a Centurion, blasting kilo-tonnes of water off the surface of the roid and burying the Behemoth a couple of metres into the roid, the blasted water covering the impact site with a glistening new sheen of ice. The ship had disappeared.
The disappearance was not unexpected for the Marauder pilot; it was normal that ships disappeared when they entered roidfields. He had turboed as fast as he could to intercept the bright yellow coloured Behemoth and had even smirked when he saw that the big ship ran to the roidfield instead of towards open space. The newb in that ship was as good as dead. The large Nickel-Iron roid directly in front of him was obviously blocking his targeting radar and with a slight push from his top thrusters he skimmed the surface of the roid expertly and used the mass of the roid to let him be slingshot into the roid field. Or that was the idea. The large roid ensured that his radar hadn't detected the 140 crates of extra fluffy synth-down pillows and he impacted with the 30 tonne mass of softness and more important, their wrapping. If he had been at full armour he wouldn't even have detected the impact as more than a slight scratch on his paintjob but he had been severely damaged in the previous encounter. A low-quality iron hinge ricocheted of the front xithricite armour plate, hit the side of his flare launcher and short-circuited the control board, launching a flare into the asteroid immediately in front of him. If he had used standard flares he would have been okay, he would have been able to dodge his own weapons fire. He used the Corvus variant, however, the one with no delay on arming. The flare did as it should, it exploded right after launching, right after hammering into the pillows. The ejection pod on the Marauder fired and the ship exploded, scattering shrapnel all over the clean smooth icesheet on the roid in front of it, masking the hiding place.
###
The tip is the extension of the finger, which is the extension of the hand, which is the extension of the arm, which is the extension of the body, which is the extension of the mind. His mind reached out and touched the precise nerve point on his opponent’s shoulder that blocked the muscles in the left arm from working. A short step back and his mind reached out again, this time letting his leg, foot, toe and tip extend and impact beneath the right pectoral muscle beneath the two ribs that covered the heart and focusing the power from all of his body in a narrow cone that tore through the plasteel heart like a sledgehammer through a carton of eggs. John stepped back and regained his starting position, ready for the next opponent. None came forth as he well knew; he had only programmed one Serco training droid after all.
"Most impressive John."
"Just a thing or two I picked up when I was waiting for a particularly large shipment of Coolant on Eo Miss Chi."
She knew very well that John had undertaken six months of extremely hard and advanced close combat training at the Itani Special Forces martial arts training school. And she knew that he knew as well. The rules of playing the spook's game apparently.
"I am not sure I can provide a challenge anymore."
John grinned widely and relaxed into the casual Krav Maga stance.
"I am sure you can figure something out Miss Chi."
She moved gracefully, almost fluently forward and struck at his face, disguising the real attack in the form of a sweeping foot that should have impacted on his calf. His leg was not there. John had seen the tension in her upper body as she struck and moved accordingly, kicking her other leg away from under her. She landed as heavily as you only did when completely surprised. John was still in the casual stance, his grin slightly wider.
"Right, " she said getting up, "I see I have to cheat a bit."
She brought her brainpal online and accessed the master-level Aikido programme. Not as intuitive as real human experience, it would boost her the extra bit she needed right now. She attacked him with one foot towards the chest that was easily deflected but allowed her to move in closer. John tried swiping her to one side but Chi ducked easily and moved even closer, having her hip in connection with his upper thigh. He tried to hit her in the side of her head with an elbow and she flowed with the blow, using his rotational energy against him and throwing him over her hip onto the floor mat, sliding out of his reach. She nodded at him.
"Touché."
John grinned and got up.
"Didn't know you did Aikido. Interesting."
She raised one eyebrow in response and waited for him to get ready. He assumed the casual stance again and extended a hand, waving her forward with the tips of his fingers, Morpheus style.
###
The message that William Cutting had delivered unpacked itself and gained limited sentience. It used its newly discovered powers to investigate its environment and found that it was driven by a ferocious need to fulfil the mission that was hard-coded into its programming, a sensation not unlike hunger. Like a real life worm, the software wiggled its way into the main routing network, devouring several HK programmes on the way and boring through two firewalls, exiting slightly singed on the other side but strengthened by the added sense of being close to its target, and started searching for the right address on the station net. It found four possible candidates that all came up as recipients. Only one of these was a person, the other three were merely sifters, programmes that had been put in place to find anything interesting and relay it to the programmers. The sifters were unaware of each other and in reality it wouldn't have mattered if they knew about the existence of any of the other. The data would still be copied and forwarded. The message did not have any form of parameter of choosing which one was the right recipient and so it delivered its message to all of them indiscriminately .The Xang Xi junior official that received the message opened it and so did the UIT intelligence, the Valent External Security Forces and eventually NP, spymaster of PA. With the delivery, its sense of purpose ceased and the worm erased itself all the way back to the container and ignited the magnesium casing, erasing any evidence of it ever being there. The whole process took less than a second. The message was simple.
"We have your property. Pay 250 million or the death will be on your hands. Follow the information at the end of the message to find out how. Asteroth, 2iC KAOS"
###
Da Gu entered into reality safely cocooned in his Warthog Mk II and activated the scanner. He frowned; the IFF of the automated Sercan Xithricite convoy should be exiting the station just about now. No debris, no twice cursed members of ITAN or thrice cursed members of SKV to destroy the bots either. Something was very wrong indeed. The automated convoy was the single most important resource that was to come out of Grey space, so important that Sky Command had asked the elite military and semi-private guild ONE to guard it along with the normal weaponeered bots. Some time ago the Itani had almost succeeded in closing the pipeline to Daltas Hold but a concerted and prolonged struggle had eventually forced the most hated of all enemies away from Sedina. These days only single ships from both ITAN and SKV were able to interrupt the convoy, and then only to limited effect when ONE escorted the convoy. This time, however, it didn't look like the bots had been destroyed. Da Gu opened a connection to the station and requested permission to dock. He would have to speak to the officials and find out what was wrong. The denial of his request was not expected and he was initially confused as to what he should do. He punched the guild channel and sent out a general hail.
"Da Gu, this is Folks Dokaris. Do you need assistance? I have Aelius in Odia and he can be there shortly."
"Not as such Lieutenant. There seems to be some problems with the Xith convoy. And for some reason I have just been refused docking rights to Daltas Hold. Do we have any quarrels with Xang Xi I was unaware of?"
There was a short break before Folks answered.
"Not that I am aware off, nothing official anyway. I'll have a check, I'll get back to you."
Da Gu was left with the silence of his cockpit, or as silent as it ever got. The usual sounds of working machinery provided a safe background that he could easily tune out. If it had at any moment been missing he would be scared. The radio crackled.
"No, but we seem to have lost about two days worth of shipments. I'll push this one up the chain, can you guard the station?"
"Yeah, I'll make sure it isn't some Itani ploy. Can you get Aelius to sweep in Odia?"
The deep voice that belonged to the always-brooding Aelius cut through.
"Already working it Gu. Just sit tight little buddy."
Da Gu grinned, Aelius insisted on calling everybody little buddy to emphasise that with his almost 9 feet, he towered over just about everybody. At no time was it more fun than when Keria had her husband around. Although Riddik was one of the most massive persons, Serco or otherwise, that Da Gu had ever seen, he still came in a whole inch below Aelius. And Riddik didn't take all too kindly to be called little buddy.
"Da Gu, I have dispatched a couple of Prom's to cover you if needed. They will stay in Latos for now."
Da Gu acknowledged with a double click and leaned back in his seat. Folks was on it, they would work it out.
Chapter 10.
The customs official looked down in his papers, but was quickly drawn to look into the face of the beautiful female pilot in front of him. Especially the eyes had some kind of special attraction that made it hard for him to focus. He swallowed hard and tried to look down again but failed.
"it seems that all of your papers are in order miss. Let me stamp them for you there and there."
He drifted off to the eyes again as he handed the acceptance papers for unloading the tax free cargo at Dau K-10 to the pilot in front of him. Mercy Machine smiled her best smiled and winked to him before turning back to the battle scarred Behemoth XC behind her. She grabbed her daypack and swung it over her right shoulder before starting the trek into TGFT territory. The cargo could wait; after all she had just had the customs official sign over the cargo as food, nothing interesting, definitely nothing illegal. The 200 crates of high purity and highly illegal Serco anabolic steroids would fetch an enormous sum when her contact came down tomorrow, but that was tomorrow. For now she needed to file her report to GSS. She walked past Soggy's on the way and grabbed a cup of sugary chai to wash down a pair of uppers. The corridors were deserted and her boot heels provided the only sound as she walked down to the GSS office. Well, that and the usual sounds of the station, the sounds you tuned out and forgot about until they were not present, sounds like pumps, ventilation, cleaning bots and the ever-present noise of huge wheels turning.
Charlene was sitting in the reception, fierce concentration painted in lines on her face as she was solving something on the terminal in front of her. Mercy turned the charm to high and smiled at the young woman as she stopped in front of the desk.
"Hi Charlie, still slaving hard?"
She looked up and smiled back.
"Hi Mercy, not really. I am just fiddling around, nothing much to do."
"Playing that game?"
Charlene smiled sheepishly and shrugged.
"Yeah, you know. It helps pass the time on the long nights."
Mercy put a reassuring hand on Charlene's shoulder and winked at her.
"I know how you feel sweetie. Is ts in?"
Charlene nodded and indicated with a nod of her head that Mercy could go right in, immediately after concentrating once more on the screen. Mercy took a sip of her chai and walked into the deceptively small office of tsreknor.
"It is customary to knock you know?"
Mercy turned the charm to maximum and spread her arms from her sides in a mock display of innocence. She walked in and sat down in the high-backed synth-leather chair in front of tsreknor's table and waited for him to finish whatever it was he was doing, sipping the hot chai and enjoying the warmth that it spread throughout her body. The uppers she had popped on the way helped a lot as well. tsreknor finished what he had been doing, turned the deep-blue eyes onto her and folded his fingers in front of him.
"So, what can I do for you Mercy?"
###
Lambin woke from his own personal nightmare with a heave and sat up in the clone tank's seat dripping with vat fluid. The dream was not particularly different from the incident that brought him here, not that he remembered more than up to his ship's destruction, but a nightmare nonetheless. He looked around with wild uncomprehending eyes that ended up on the kind face in front of him, the face that owned the arm that extended towards him with a golden cup filled with an amber liquid. Lambin grabbed it, gulped it down and felt the liquid claw its power into him while at the same time forcing him to cough the remaining vat fluid up. He spat the phlegm onto the floor and grabbed a second cup, sipping this one carefully. He looked to the other clone tanks and found them all empty. He looked back at Wild Gramps, grinning, clearing his throat loudly.
"Guess Hortie made it then."
Wild Gramps looked down and shook his head. "We were kinda hoping you could help us with that Lambin."
Lambin looked confused, checked the clone vats again before focusing on Gramps. "So, where is he then? Do we have several clone facilities?" Lambin was confused and slightly alarmed.
"We haven't heard from him since your pod was... denied." Wild Gramps kept his eyes on the deckplates; this was uncomfortable.
Lambin raised himself onto his elbows and practically trembled with suppressed rage. "Denied my ass. I was murdered in cold blood. Last I saw Hortie, I ordered him to boost for open space and make a run for it."
"His ship and pod stopped transmitting less than a minute after yours. That can only mean two things. Either the clone vat is not working properly or he is still alive and potentially captured. The lack of a death signal indicates the latter. Sorry buddy."
Lambin swung his legs over the side and grabbed the clothes that were neatly folded on a small table to the side.
"Guess we'll be busy then. I am assuming that the council is going to meet and discuss this so I'll go get a new Valk in the meantime. Keep me informed, yeah?"
Wild Gramps nodded, his face set in a grim mask. "Will do. As soon as I know."
###
To most people, the gathered pilots were the dreg of humanity, the scum of the earth, filthy parasites or worse. Between them they had destroyed cargo ships counted in their thousands, killed an equal amount of people and extorted enormous sums of money, underscoring the feelings of those "most people". That is not what Chaakin saw when he looked at the extremely motley crew in front of him. He saw predators. Lean, hard, ruthless predators of the kind that those most people could never understand any more than the zebra understands the lion. The force of the twelve stares was uncomfortable enough for Chaakin and he could understand how the prey felt. He raised his head a bit higher and grinned widely.
"Gents, it looks as if our mission is slogging its way to success. Soon we will have stopped all trade into Sedina and we can announce our existence. The way you have upheld the blockade has surpassed even my expectations but we need to keep on like this for a couple of days more." Chaakin held a small pause for effect. " Soon our first goal will be within grasp and nobody will be able to mention piracy without thinking of Kharons Shores." His clenched his fist and thrust it towards the pilots.
His audience grinned, slapped each other's shoulders and raised cups of various alcohol-laced drinks. Well, except for Azrael, who just sat there deep in his robes with no-one beside him. His aura of death and his soft mumbling of incomprehensible noise was too much for even this pack of killers.
Chaakin raised his glass and waited for the sound to die out. "Now is the time it gets tough. We will have called massive attention to our selves and must face whatever they throw at us with skill and élan. And while we do that, we must remember our creed. A toast. The Ferryman's toast." He raised his cup in silent salute.
The pilots raised their glasses, goblets, bottles etc. and waited.
"Give Kharon his due."
###
The message clicked in on the alert list in VPR headquarters and the duty clerk filed it as a follow-up case. Apparently several convoys had been destroyed in Latos O-12 and rumour was that the guild KAOS was involved. That particular group had been silent for at least six months and if it was proven that they were responsible for this, it would spell trouble for not only the Vipers but for UIT as a whole. The incident was flagged as medium priority and two junior pilots were assigned for the task later that evening. The primary mission would be to observe and report, not engage.
The customs official looked down in his papers, but was quickly drawn to look into the face of the beautiful female pilot in front of him. Especially the eyes had some kind of special attraction that made it hard for him to focus. He swallowed hard and tried to look down again but failed.
"it seems that all of your papers are in order miss. Let me stamp them for you there and there."
He drifted off to the eyes again as he handed the acceptance papers for unloading the tax free cargo at Dau K-10 to the pilot in front of him. Mercy Machine smiled her best smiled and winked to him before turning back to the battle scarred Behemoth XC behind her. She grabbed her daypack and swung it over her right shoulder before starting the trek into TGFT territory. The cargo could wait; after all she had just had the customs official sign over the cargo as food, nothing interesting, definitely nothing illegal. The 200 crates of high purity and highly illegal Serco anabolic steroids would fetch an enormous sum when her contact came down tomorrow, but that was tomorrow. For now she needed to file her report to GSS. She walked past Soggy's on the way and grabbed a cup of sugary chai to wash down a pair of uppers. The corridors were deserted and her boot heels provided the only sound as she walked down to the GSS office. Well, that and the usual sounds of the station, the sounds you tuned out and forgot about until they were not present, sounds like pumps, ventilation, cleaning bots and the ever-present noise of huge wheels turning.
Charlene was sitting in the reception, fierce concentration painted in lines on her face as she was solving something on the terminal in front of her. Mercy turned the charm to high and smiled at the young woman as she stopped in front of the desk.
"Hi Charlie, still slaving hard?"
She looked up and smiled back.
"Hi Mercy, not really. I am just fiddling around, nothing much to do."
"Playing that game?"
Charlene smiled sheepishly and shrugged.
"Yeah, you know. It helps pass the time on the long nights."
Mercy put a reassuring hand on Charlene's shoulder and winked at her.
"I know how you feel sweetie. Is ts in?"
Charlene nodded and indicated with a nod of her head that Mercy could go right in, immediately after concentrating once more on the screen. Mercy took a sip of her chai and walked into the deceptively small office of tsreknor.
"It is customary to knock you know?"
Mercy turned the charm to maximum and spread her arms from her sides in a mock display of innocence. She walked in and sat down in the high-backed synth-leather chair in front of tsreknor's table and waited for him to finish whatever it was he was doing, sipping the hot chai and enjoying the warmth that it spread throughout her body. The uppers she had popped on the way helped a lot as well. tsreknor finished what he had been doing, turned the deep-blue eyes onto her and folded his fingers in front of him.
"So, what can I do for you Mercy?"
###
Lambin woke from his own personal nightmare with a heave and sat up in the clone tank's seat dripping with vat fluid. The dream was not particularly different from the incident that brought him here, not that he remembered more than up to his ship's destruction, but a nightmare nonetheless. He looked around with wild uncomprehending eyes that ended up on the kind face in front of him, the face that owned the arm that extended towards him with a golden cup filled with an amber liquid. Lambin grabbed it, gulped it down and felt the liquid claw its power into him while at the same time forcing him to cough the remaining vat fluid up. He spat the phlegm onto the floor and grabbed a second cup, sipping this one carefully. He looked to the other clone tanks and found them all empty. He looked back at Wild Gramps, grinning, clearing his throat loudly.
"Guess Hortie made it then."
Wild Gramps looked down and shook his head. "We were kinda hoping you could help us with that Lambin."
Lambin looked confused, checked the clone vats again before focusing on Gramps. "So, where is he then? Do we have several clone facilities?" Lambin was confused and slightly alarmed.
"We haven't heard from him since your pod was... denied." Wild Gramps kept his eyes on the deckplates; this was uncomfortable.
Lambin raised himself onto his elbows and practically trembled with suppressed rage. "Denied my ass. I was murdered in cold blood. Last I saw Hortie, I ordered him to boost for open space and make a run for it."
"His ship and pod stopped transmitting less than a minute after yours. That can only mean two things. Either the clone vat is not working properly or he is still alive and potentially captured. The lack of a death signal indicates the latter. Sorry buddy."
Lambin swung his legs over the side and grabbed the clothes that were neatly folded on a small table to the side.
"Guess we'll be busy then. I am assuming that the council is going to meet and discuss this so I'll go get a new Valk in the meantime. Keep me informed, yeah?"
Wild Gramps nodded, his face set in a grim mask. "Will do. As soon as I know."
###
To most people, the gathered pilots were the dreg of humanity, the scum of the earth, filthy parasites or worse. Between them they had destroyed cargo ships counted in their thousands, killed an equal amount of people and extorted enormous sums of money, underscoring the feelings of those "most people". That is not what Chaakin saw when he looked at the extremely motley crew in front of him. He saw predators. Lean, hard, ruthless predators of the kind that those most people could never understand any more than the zebra understands the lion. The force of the twelve stares was uncomfortable enough for Chaakin and he could understand how the prey felt. He raised his head a bit higher and grinned widely.
"Gents, it looks as if our mission is slogging its way to success. Soon we will have stopped all trade into Sedina and we can announce our existence. The way you have upheld the blockade has surpassed even my expectations but we need to keep on like this for a couple of days more." Chaakin held a small pause for effect. " Soon our first goal will be within grasp and nobody will be able to mention piracy without thinking of Kharons Shores." His clenched his fist and thrust it towards the pilots.
His audience grinned, slapped each other's shoulders and raised cups of various alcohol-laced drinks. Well, except for Azrael, who just sat there deep in his robes with no-one beside him. His aura of death and his soft mumbling of incomprehensible noise was too much for even this pack of killers.
Chaakin raised his glass and waited for the sound to die out. "Now is the time it gets tough. We will have called massive attention to our selves and must face whatever they throw at us with skill and élan. And while we do that, we must remember our creed. A toast. The Ferryman's toast." He raised his cup in silent salute.
The pilots raised their glasses, goblets, bottles etc. and waited.
"Give Kharon his due."
###
The message clicked in on the alert list in VPR headquarters and the duty clerk filed it as a follow-up case. Apparently several convoys had been destroyed in Latos O-12 and rumour was that the guild KAOS was involved. That particular group had been silent for at least six months and if it was proven that they were responsible for this, it would spell trouble for not only the Vipers but for UIT as a whole. The incident was flagged as medium priority and two junior pilots were assigned for the task later that evening. The primary mission would be to observe and report, not engage.
Absolutely awesome Hortan. A very enthralling read.
- Itani Nationalist, Estrian Prosis
- Itani Nationalist, Estrian Prosis
but i thought we didnt shoot clm
wat the hell
wat the hell
Yeah, I'm not exactly sure where he got that. But aye, great read.
Yeah, that's an... interesting... interpretation of CHRN policy.
We're a tactically organized yet politically anarchical collection of elite pirates with no goals beyond money, killing, and controlling sectors for the purpose of making more money and doing more killing... We also work with out-of-guild pirates a lot (most commonly CLM). So yeah, it's pretty out of character for us but hey, I have no problem with artistic license.
Occasionally we do have some beefs with CLM members, but that's only against misuse of alts... CLM does attract plenty of alts and we respect separation, but we nor official CLM management will stand by if there are signs of abuse. So to disappoint any traders who thought otherwise: CLM and CHRN (and any other loyal pirates) are, indeed, close allies.
Occasionally we do have some beefs with CLM members, but that's only against misuse of alts... CLM does attract plenty of alts and we respect separation, but we nor official CLM management will stand by if there are signs of abuse. So to disappoint any traders who thought otherwise: CLM and CHRN (and any other loyal pirates) are, indeed, close allies.
Well, Whytee, if CHRN policy was constructed from the people ladron insults at every turn, they'd be out to take over everyone, including themselves. :P
More to the point, if one member's occasional comments are enough to justify an RP characterization of the whole guild's policy, one could have a shitload of fun with explaining the true policies of [TGFT] and [VPR].
So, just for the record Whytee, you're an overreaching jackass.
So, just for the record Whytee, you're an overreaching jackass.