Fauntleroy - Postain

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 26

“Do you think they guessed we were coming,” Corp asked, taking cover as Feldar fired on their opponents across the yard, the shuttle heading upwards quickly as it continued to launch.
“Getting that idea,” Feldar replied, zipping back into cover as a shot passed close by his head. He reasoned that, if he’d been fully Feline, he’d now have a hole in his ear.. “Do NOT fire on that shuttle, by the way! Hit the wrong thing and you’ll bring it down on the port!”
“Rules, rules,” Corp said, taking aim and firing. Whoever put these things in movies, he thought, always under estimated the bullet death quotient. Bad guys didn’t aim like storm troopers and good guys weren’t laser accurate. Nine shots of every ten missed. He came up and fired on full power, the energy bolt cracking straight into the head of one of their opponents and ending him immediately. “Shot ten,” he muttered as a return shot lanced through the car and his leg. He cried out and pulled himself towards the same cover Feldar was using. One down, two to go. “I wonder if the port security might have.. heard all this,” he queried.
“Probably,” Feldar commented, covering Corp, “it’s not like we’re using silencers on our weapons after all!”

A single siren rent the air as Beran swept into the battle, sunroof open. Karl appeared through the sunroof – or, at least, her arm did – and threw a pair of flash grenades towards the hangar. The windows tinted against the sudden glare and Karl swept out from the vehicle and fired once, twice, three times. “Were we trying to take them alive,” Beran asked.
“Their body armour would have deflected stun setting,” Karl commented drily.
Beran wondered if that was the reason for the headshots. “Well, dental can probably still identify… that one.” She indicated one with her gun before the security finally arrived. “Let’s secure the hangar and try to leave someone alive to question?”

Medics treated Corp as Feldar called in to the militia. He told them of the launching shuttle and they needed to intercept. They reported back that the ship had already left their control area. Feldar sighed and reported in to Postlethwaite.

Sarina Raven took the call from Area Command as Hawle was inconvenienced and there wasn’t a viewscreen in there. “I’m afraid he’s going to be a few minutes, sir,” she said to Postlethwaite. “I can enact the instructions and fill him in when he gets back?”
Postlethwaite sighed. <”Right. A shuttle just took off from Pandera on an unscheduled flight. We need it stopped. I’m transmitting you the details now, including engine signature. We believe they have a considerable amount of Quadria ore aboard.”>
“So be careful what we shoot.”
<”Absolutely, Commander,”> Postlethwaite replied. <”You’re only about twenty minutes from Pandera but best you get underway now,”> he added as the door to the Captain’s office opened and Hawle emerged, still adjusting his belt, <”before the trail goes cold.”>
“Flamin’ Broccoli,” he complained, before seeing Postlethwaite up on the screen. “Oh. Good, er, morning, sir?” Hawle frowned as he tried to remember if this was still morning or if he was working past his shift time again.
<”It probably is somewhere, Commander,”> the face on the screen replied. <”Raven’s got the instructions. Best of luck.”>
The line cut out as Hawle turned to the Burman. “Orders?”
“A’fore you tell ‘im,” Chapston said from the helm, “y’wanna give me the order t’go? Got a course all laid in, like.”
Hawle hopped backwards into his seat. “Floor it, Chappers.” The Loper was on it’s way before he’d buckled up the seatbelt.

“I should go to Pandera,” Postain told Postlethwaite in his office. He’d stayed out of the sightline during the call to the Loper but now he wanted back in the action. There was still a day until the refit on the Rodomont was completed by Henry’s teams. “If he’s there and the weapon WAS there the answer must be there!”
“Pandera’s about ten hours away by the normal transit ships,” Henry replied, “and I NEVER want you in a room with Balbury! You’re a sledgehammer and he’s a rubber band! Chances are one of you wouldn’t walk out and questions would be asked.” he shook his head. “No. Feldar can find out what Balbury’s doing on Pandera and Hawle can catch the shuttle. So, for the moment, the most concerning thing, for me, is the other thing Feldar told me.”
Postain crossed his arms as he felt the conversation wasn’t going his way. “And what’s that,” he demanded petulantly.
“This meeting of all the Traffic Controllers,” Postlethwaite mentioned. “The Space Controllers of every major colony in the sector meeting physically. Except ours. And, apparently, it’d be charges of breaching the secrets act for whoever tells us about it. We’re being left out of something, Marius. Things are moving without us.” he brightened. “Oh, the apology went well, I hear?”
“I did NOT apologise,” Postain retorted.
“You bloody well should have,” Postlethwaite said coldly. “You assaulted a restrained prisoner, Marius! If he’d raised that point I would have had a really hard time fighting a reduction in rank!”
“Never asked you to fight my corner, Henry.”
“Good job.” Postlethwaite looked at his military sector leader. “Because I’ve had to come up with something.” He pressed the button on his desk. “Send him in, would you?”

A moment passed before a well dressed, manicured young Feline stepped in, He wore tidy, clean, clothes from the high end of the office fashion scale and had a new datapad in his hand. It took Postain a few seconds to recognise the Feline as Yalla Garza. “So you decided to take up the offer, kid? Good. You’ll be safe, for one thing.”
“Oh, I know that, sir,” the youth said brightly. “I hope to learn a lot about how the U.S.C. operates in this area and learn from the best.”
Postain rolled his eyes. “Don’t kiss the bosses ring, boy, it’s irritating.”
Postlethwaite chuckled. “Told you,” he said.
“Pardon,” Postain asked.
“I said that’d be the first thing he learns off you.”
Postain’s hackles rose. “What?”
Postlethwaite sat back. “His idea actually,” he replied, gesturing to Garza. “news reports from here would be a real snoozefest. Hardly the stuff that makes a reporter. But, from the area’s command ship..?”
“Oh, no…”
Postlethwaite smiled. “Ooooh, yes. I need to rein you in, Marius, before things go to official status. I get the feeling having a reporter aboard your ship, with access all areas – not secure ones, obviously – and access to any member of crew just MIGHT be the best way to do it. And that,” he added, bringing his computer screen back up so the Rottian could see the report on it, “is an order.”
Nuts, Postain thought.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I love it so far! I hope that you continue on with it! Especially giving us more Hawle. x3

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 27

Chapston waited on the information as the Loper hung in high orbit near Sakka III and Groven worked on finding the engine traces from the shuttle. They’d tracked it through three turns already and she was beginning to wonder the thing’s top speed. If it was comparable to theirs, they’d never catch it. She passed the time by theorising on where they might be going.

What she didn’t know is that, behind her, Hawle and Raven were also doing the same in the tiny Captain’s office. “You reckoning on Polperra,” Hawle asked politely.
“They’re not taking us anywhere near there so it’s entirely possible. What gets me is that they’re making so many turns. It’s almost like they know someone’s after them.”
“Our comms have been breached,” Hawle replied, clearly a little amused.
“You knew?”
“Nope,” Hawle replied, “but never assume people aren’t listening in on open channels. That’s why we’re running ‘silent’ and not telling Command where we’re going yet. Five changes in three hours though. All headed towards the colonies towards the Laputicka system. Kind of annoying.”
“Do you have relatives there?”
“I’m Lappinean, they’re Lappinean,” Hawle replied dismissively, “chances are there’s someone five times removed there. But we don’t know if they’re going there yet. The path is not complete…” The chair rolled back somewhat and Hawle grabbed to his desk. “...and we might catch them before they get there anyway. Excuse me, Raven, there’s something I need to sort out.” He tapped his comm. “Hawle to Groal, get up to the Captain’s Office would you? Bring your toolkit.” He turned back to Raven. “Why I ever let them install a chair on wheels…”
The door to the corridor beeped and Hawle let the Celican engineer in. He winced at the ‘colourful’ shirt the otherwise bare chested Engineer was wearing. “Never come near me in that thing when I’ve got a headache, Groal,” he said, “it could be considered a war crime.”
“An engineer should never wear anything they care about getting dirty,” the slightly sour smelling Celican said, kneeling besides the chair as Hawle was still hanging onto the table with a hand. “I take it you want a new chair installed?” The Engineer took out his laser scalpel and began etching around the ‘feet’ of Hawle’s chair. “I told them it was a stupid idea,” he complained and Hawle wondered how his breath could stink of Wild fowl when they hadn’t had one aboard for weeks. “They never listen to me, though. How it took you two weeks to work it out though…” he continued, taking super strong glue from his bag and sticking the feet to the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“Sticking the chair to the floor,” he replied. “I’ll put the old one back later, when I get the chance.”
“You still have it?”
“I never throw anything away until you tell me you don’t want it back twice.”
“Huh. Right.”

Chapston kept them on their new heading, pointing them towards the Chintaka system and was more than a little surprised when something started to appear on her forward scanners. “Captain,” she said, before turning around and seeing he wasn’t there.
“In the Office,” Groven said from the science station. “What have we?”
“Something on long range scans, sir,” she told the 2nd Officer. “I’m pretty sure it’s the shuttle.”
Groven tapped his comm to summon the Captain and Raven came out followed, a moment later, by Hawle. “Glued the chair too close to the table,” he muttered darkly. “Had to climb over the table to get out…” He looked to the back of Chapston’s head. “How far behind are we, Chapperz?”
“One minute and closing, sir,” the Human replied.
“OK,” he replied.
“Shall we start jamming frequencies, sir,” Raven asked.
Hawle looked at her in amazement. “Sarina,” he exclaimed, “we are not the bad guys! Groven, sort us some sort of fault so that our comms accidentally puts out some sort of disruption field when we drop Radio Silence, would you?”
“On it, sir,” The canine reported, pressing a few buttons. “Long range communications about to be accidentally blotted, sir.”
“You put it on speed dial,” Hawle asked. “Be ready to delete that if anyone ever asks.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Shields up. Ready weapons. Hailing frequencies. We got a name for that thing yet, Chapston?”
“Uh… The Bolerophon,” Chapston replied, reading from the screen.
“OK.” He hailed the ship. “This is Commander Hawle of the U.S.C. ship Loper to the Balletophone…. Bolerophon,” he said as Chapston turned and mouthed it to him. She turned back. “We’re needing to inspect your hold due to IOC suspicions as to their contents. You are ordered to slow or we will take measures to slow you down. Please respond.”

The ship shuddered as a bolt of energy hit the front shields. Hawle picked himself up off the floor and strapped himself into his chair. “Did an UNARMED Freighter shuttle just open fire on my ship,” he demanded, stressing the unarmed part as, according to the schematics, that class of vessel shouldn’t have weaponry.
“Seems so, Captain,” Raven said, trying not to smirk. “I think that’s the general response when you don’t like someone.”
“Well, I’m not fond of them either,” the slightly scuffed Rabbit protested. “Target their engines and put it through to my controls. Hailing frequencies again.” He waited on the reply. “Hawle to Bolerophon. We’ve noted your defence. Now here’s the case for the prosecution.” He jabbed the firing button and energy sped from the forward cannons and connected heavily with the freighter’s engines. The ship bucked and vanished. Hawle rolled his eyes. They’d knocked the ship into a sudden stop and, travelling at high velocity, had shot past them in an instant. “Capston, get us back to their location. Raven, go take a few security over thee, would you? When we get back.” He tapped the ship comm. “All hands, hold on to something!”

Chapston engaged in the tightest high velocity turn she could, pushing the internal dampers to their limits and pushing everything that wasn’t nailed down heavily to the left until the sudden shock of stop upped Doctor Barleycorn’s number of whiplash cases exponentially. The ship sped back to the co-ordinates and slowed to normal speeds some ten thousand kilometres fro the freighter.

Raven and her squad appeared on the command deck of the stricken ship and the team fanned out, weapons at the ready. It took her a bare moment to realise something and she crossed to a control panel set in the middle of the bridge.. “Raven to Loper,” she said, activating her comm. “There’s no-one here, Captain,” she said. “It’s all running on automatic. There’s a computer running things.”
<”An A.I.,”> Hawle’s voice replied.
“A prototype one at least,” she replied, before the console began to spark. She ran a pad over it. “Get us out of here!”

Five seconds later the shuttle exploded.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Always a great chapter when there is more Hawle in it! Wonderful work!

[NHWestoN]

Getting to like this myself.

[Welsh Halfwit]

I did feel the need to clear up a point about the manoeuvrability of that ship in the last part...

Part 28

Postain tramped, hands behind his back, back towards the Rodomont with Henry Postlethwaite as his ‘escort’. “I’m not happy with a lot of Hawle’s report,” he stated simply.
“He wasn’t exactly happy with it,” Postlethwaite replied drily. “He barely got his people back intact. But he did confirm some interesting things.”
Postain scoffed. “An A.I. controlling a ship. What next?”
Postlethwaite looked up at him. “Oh, the Council trialled that a few years ago,” he confided. “The trial failed. The A.I. in the simulations acted strangely,” he added, calling the lift. “In many ways it acted totally as programmed but, whenever it met a problem it couldn’t quite solve, it acted totally logically, even if that meant killing itself and everyone on board.”
“No room for illogical moves and initiative,” Postain admitted, stepping into the car when it arrived. “we meatforms are quite handy with illogical logic. Can’t think of too many positives to an A.I. running things.”
“Are you sure you didn’t read the report? As soon as Hawle fired on it, it did it’s best to vanish. It knew it logically couldn’t outrun him and it couldn’t outfight him. It slammed on the brakes in a manoeuvre that would have reduced any living matter on board to a squidge on the windscreen and muffins and cookies near broke the ship anyhow.. It’s braking power and manoeuvrability on an absurd scale. If that tech gets to people we don’t trust…”
“It’s ALREADY with people we don’t trust,” Postain cut in.
“Granted,” Postlethwaite allowed as they arrived at the Rodomont’s docking port, where stocks and stores were being moved in. “The Loper’s the fastest ship we have, Marius, and she took several hours to catch her. Hopefully the destruction will act as a major detrimental point for future sales of the technology.”
“And they didn’t have the Ore.”
“No, they did not,” Henry agreed. “What we know is they were headed towards the Laputicka System, they need a base to refine the ore and HE is in the sector.”
“Where do you want me?”
“Corra Two,” Postlethwaite stated lightly. He held up a hand to block off the inevitable response for being sent away from the front line. “I know, but Agent Munit has been investigating massive problems at a large foundry complex, potential insurrection in the colony government and, recently, he’s been getting rumours of Balbury being involved in the situation. I don’t know if it’s anything but…”
“You want it checked. And ‘flying the flag’ won’t hurt either.”

Rhew wondered if there was something wrong with him as he chatted in his room. This was the second evening he’d spent with Jasmine now, and things were concerning him. Last night he’d been able to put the simple conversation and light sodas for dinner down to his halfway dead state and the malfunctioning replication system. Today, though, he was feeling more like himself (Jul had been a real boost in that respect thanks to pain killer shots when he was on the bridge and light glucose drinks to boost sugar levels) and someone had finally fixed the food system so he’d been able to do a proper Vegan bowl for her and Mentaka Shala for himself. So it wasn’t the food that was the problem, nor, indeed, the drink that spoke of inebriants without actually having any. It was his own actions that surprised him. This was a second date, so to speak, so why hadn’t he invited her to his bedroom? With Celicans that was pretty much a second date thing. With some Lappineans it was pretty much what was done on the FIRST date so why was he just happy to listen to this beautiful Doe tell him about her family life and work? She’d seemed surprised when he’d told her that Polar Colonies often didn’t go above twenty inhabitants and he’d laughed when she told him that was less than in her own direct family. He’d told a joke he’d heard on his last ship and had managed to hold his smile tight until she’d worked out the complex punchline and belly laughed. It had been wonderful to his ears, that laugh. So why hadn’t he done something about it? He decided to ask. “J...Jasmine,” he asked hesitantly.
She turned those eyes towards him. “Yes, Mikkal?”
Even his name sounded nice, coming from her. Oh, get a hold of yourself, he told himself, you’re not a cub! “I, er… was just… You know you’re beautiful, right?”
She blushed slightly and hid her face behind a hand as her left ear flopped. It lasted for a few seconds before she straightened it up and tried to pretend the blush had never haooened. “Well, I was fairly sure,” she confided, “but it’s nice to get a second opinion.”
“Well, I…” Rhew was quite thankful he couldn’t sweat but he was beginning to fear the heart monitor would summon Jul to an emergency in about three minutes. “I was hoping you weren’t offended by the fact I haven’t, um…”
“Oh! Uh, no,” she replied, laughing sweetly. “believe me, I appreciate it, Mikkal.” She took herself from the chair opposite and sat herself next to him, taking his hand. He flinched but chose to let her. “Sometimes it’s hard to talk to males, you know? They always want to rush things but you, you want to listen and learn. I like that,” she told him. “But I can give you something on account,” she told him before kissing him. He wasn’t of a mind to fight.

Postain pushed the doorcom. Rhew was on his downtime but Postain wasn’t one to wait for information. He pressed it again and Rhew finally answered, Postain noted the slight unkemptness of his cheek fur and the smell of Rabbit on his breath which was probably something to do with the ear that he could see peeping around the edge of the sofa. He raised an eyeridge to Rhew. “I want a briefing on the repairs,” he said. “My office, in ten minutes. Should give you time to… tidy up.”
“Yes, sir,” Rhew said, knowing the jig was up. He went back inside.
Postain headed off towards his office and passed by Jul, running towards the Commander’s quarters. “Stand down, Doctor,” he instructed, “I just calmed his heartbeat for you. How’s Flakk settling in?”
Jul shrugged, waving his hands upwards. “Probably fine,” he admitted, “he’s shuttled me off to the secondary bay. Claims he needs Doctor Cobalt’s knowledge with him.”
“Good,” Postain said, leaving Jul feeling a little bewildered. “Seems he trusts you to be competent. Off you go,” he added, indicating the ‘meeting’ was over. He headed for his ready room.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I really am liking how you are putting together these chapters! This story is very addicting!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 29

Rhew stood outside the Captain’s ready room and pressed the button to announce his presence. The door opened and he walked in on the Captain and… A slimline, Black and White feline in a civilian suit who was standing in the corner with a datapad. “You wanted to see me, sir,” he asked, glancing at the stranger.
“Ignore him,” Postain replied, “for the moment. How are the repairs going?”
“Engineer Exley says she’ll have everything back up and running by morning and…”
“It IS morning,” Postain said, before waving a hand. “Right, right. Ship time, not station. Proceed.”
“The power couplings to the starboard side will be back up and running in a half hour.”
“Was that what she said before you went off duty or as of now?”
“As of now, sir. I consulted with Lieutenant Cheem before I came in. The new Doctor seems to be settling in well and security say they’ve not been asked to escort patients too him, which might be a joke but I’m not sure.”
“Right. Well, we’re scheduled for an Eight PM departure – station time – to go and assist IOC out on Corra Two. Some events going on there which might, possibly, tie into the events we’ve been part of.” He looked over to Garza. “The rest of this is just me telling him about you. You might as well go do that booked interview. Appleby’s waiting. As in, go away.” The Feline got the feeling he wasn’t wanted so turned his pad off and exited the room. “Yalla Garza,” Postain explained. “Wannabe reporter. Met him yesterday when he tried to kill me.”
“That’s… not usually a good reason to invite people on board, sir,” Rhew replied.
“I agree, but he was given false information suggesting I was responsible for the death of his brother.” He stared at Rhew. “He was given it three days ago.”
Rhew rolled his eyes. “Right before the Ore heist. You’re betting on… Hang on, how is someone telling a Kid that related?”
Postain smirked. “The kid attacked when he was supposed to have reported. The stink would have had people… MORE people calling for my head. As it is, IOC’s handling the next part and they might need us.”

Garza found IOC Agent Appleby right where she’d told him to find her, sat in one of the break rooms with the target of his interview. The Pirate sat, pretending not to glare at him. She was wearing the shabby, battered, clothes they’d originally found her in and he got the feeling she was doing it for effect. “No pictures,” she reminded him, “all comments anonymous and the money paid into my account.”
Garza took a seat. Upon finding out he’d been assigned to the Rodomont, the editor of the Pandera Chronicle who, apparently, owed Henry Postlethwaite a debt, had advanced him five hundred credits for ‘expenses’ and he’d spent two hundred on the suit. Another two hundred here and that left him one hundred to spend on people he probably didn’t need to pay anyhow. “I understand the U.S.C. is holding your account,” he told Senny, “but I have assurances that they’re playing fair.” He hoped he was convincing as he wasn’t totally sure they were playing fair with him. He took a seat.
“Not buying me a drink,” Senny asked, innocence in her tone.
“Would… would you like one?”
“No. But it would have been fun to be asked.” She sighed. “At least it proves this isn’t a date.”
Garza tried to get his composure back and squirmed slightly. “Uh,” he said, getting his recording device ready, “I’m just here to ask some questions about why you became a Pirate and regrets…”
“I’ve had a few, but I probably won’t mention them,”
“...and the Reclaim project and what you hope to gain from it.”
“I can start there,” Senny said, as he started recording, “because it all kind of ties into that in it’s own way. See, what I want is adventure and cash in hand without so much of the red tape and, by and large, the Pirate life gives that. You’re rough, you’re tough. You’re mean. You get a fair share of the booty after it’s sold. People are afraid of you. There’s bucket’s to be said for that, especially if you can rise to the level of your own ship. You’ve got people who you care about and those that care about you. And you can punch the ones you don’t like. Reclaim offers a lot of that…”
“Minus the chance to punch people you don’t like,” Appleby cut in.
“Attribute that bit to me, would you,” Senny asked, “it’ll imply a sense of humour.”
Garza found he had to smile at that. “I should be able to do that,” he told her.
“Good.” Senny ran a finger around her collar and Garza flinched as though he expected it to go off. “It takes more than that to set this off,” she told him. “Anyhow, what this project thing gives us s a chance to trade jail for some limited freedom and the possibility to make up for any errors we may have made. Also, information we provide can help these military oppressors…” - She poked her tongue out at Appleby - “...to kill less people in their attacks.” She saw the look of horror in his face as her words hit home. “Some of them don’t much care who they hurt, but this guy seems to be one of the ones that gives a ****. Least he did with the last encounter.” She shrugged. “It’s all to do with trust, kid. I might learn to trust him and he might learn to trust me. It’s all baby steps at the moment. Just finding my way.” She nodded to Appleby. “With an escort most times. But, and this is the important bit, it’s far, far, better than being in a cell. Not that many of my old colleagues will thank me for it,” she continued, stretching her languid body with a yawn. “To them I’m a total sellout and they’d kill me if they could. They’re friendly that way. They might have a point,” she added quickly, “but, honestly, when the whole lifestyle is ‘be in it for yourself’, how are you supposed to rely on loyalty? From what I’ve noted over just a couple of days? These guys seem to care about each other. A bit. Might be fun to explore that.” She glanced at her watch. “Think that’s your ten, kid. Or, at least, mine.” She shrugged. “Before they decide where to put me, I’m kind of on a curfew.” So saying, she and Appleby stood up. Garza followed suit and offered a hand. She accepted, shook it and pulled him in to kiss his cheek, a move Appleby didn’t really mind as she’d sensed it was coming. “Sorry,” she said. “Not many chances to kiss people recently.”
“Um, uh, OK?”
<I love flummoxing guys like that> she thought to Appleby as they headed out.

Appleby suppressed a grin as they walked the decks towards Senny’s cabin. “So you’re not still annoyed I didn’t tell you,” she asked.
“Oh, I’m annoyed,” Senny replied, “I’m just not holding it against you. You’re someone I can tolerate. Not calling you a friend though.”
“I noted. How come you didn’t mention your brother as a reason for signing up?”
Senny stopped and turned. “Because people out here know I have a brother,” she stated. “There’s very few of us with serving family out here. Even fewer lost in the last few weeks. I mention him, they’ll know it’s me. And then he’s in danger. I’m keeping him out of that mess.”
Appleby wanted to ask what mess in particular but they’d arrived at Senny’s apartment and the Castoran had entered her code and gone in, closing the door behind her.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Keep up the good work! I always enjoy when you put up a new chapter!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 30

Agent Munit sighed and scuffed dust into his rented office as he escaped the strong sun of Corra two. He’d been out here three months now, investigating labour and production problems rife in the local industries. One of the multi-planetary companies involved had spotted it first, irregularities in the paychecks and production of farming machinery here. They’d sent their own, in house, investigators and gotten nowhere until they’d discovered that another company, making computers, air conditioners and vidscreens, was having similar problems. They both suspected unions and sent in investigators who had no luck and turned up in the river a month or so later and the companies had spoken to the local IOC office on Pandera. They’d contacted the sub office on Juno and they’d sent him and Kelly out to operate here. The Human had the luxury of not having a dense fur covering and he simply needed the odd change of clothing and a powerful fan to keep him cool. Munit, being a Canine, had no such luxury. But he was the senior agent and he’d used that privilege to force Kelly to use the non smelly sunblock over the Candy floss scented one he favoured. It had been making Munit’s teeth itch with it’s sickly aroma. He stepped into the break room and poured himself a large Ice water before heading into the actual main office where Kelly sat waiting. He slapped his comm-link on the table and practically melted onto his office chair as Kelly took the hint and turned the air con up to a level mock designated as ‘snowball in heck’. He took a gulp from his drink. “Two months,” he panted. “Ten weeks and I’m still not used to this. Did the thing have to be discovered in Summer?” He waved a hand. “You get to change colour, I don’t. I just suffer. Seen anything or Pirrit today?”
Pirrit was their main suspect in the situation. A politician running the energy services on the planet who just happened to have relatives in several of the colonies main companies. This wasn’t totally unusual with a Mican run colony as, like other prey species, the Mice tended to have large families. It was that proliferation that had reduced the suspicion at a higher level from ‘here’s a warrant, raid him’ to ‘’that’s interesting, keep looking’. And, thus far, he’d been quite careful about his movements. “Nothing yet, sir,” the Human said, his long hair being blown by the desktop fan Munit wanted to pinch. “All he’s done is host his standard meetings. No surprises.” He turned the screen so the Canine could see the CCTV feed from the shunt they’d installed. THAT they had got the warrant for, signed by Postlethwaite. “Is that all you’ve been doing,” Munit accused, “watching TV?”
“Nope,” the Human replied, “I’ve been keeping an eye on the Union reps too. Grits’ has been doing the rounds today, ‘influencing’ subscriptions by menaces. I’m really beginning to think we need to bring him in on that.”
“Can’t do that,” Munit advised. “We need him to fit in with another piece. Marrat, perhaps. Or Pirrit. Or even, if we’re really unlucky, Balbury.”
“I thought he’s on Pandera,” Kelly asked. Munit had been obsessed by the hints he’d picked up that the muffins and cookies Rabbit was here, somewhere, on Corra two and there had been little chance of changing his mind. He even thought he’d glimpsed him once. Kelly merely assumed it was a completely different, innocent, Lappinean. They had colonies around here – with working weather controls.
“He’s on Pandera NOW,” Munit complained, pointing at Kelly,” Doesn’t mean he wasn’t here before. Anyhow,” he continued, moving on, “I’ve been checking the financials again, Consulting the bank manager on Fourth street so any traces will appear to come from the sorting bank. Wherever the money’s going, it’s not going into the accounts of either the colony, the company, the Union or Grit’s own account. Same for Marrat. Djaka over at cyber is still running the traces to find out where the banks that ARE receiving are sending the cash on to.” He took another draw on his drink. “I also got the sales records from several of the Farm machinery sales companies.”
The Human sighed. “Still showing solid sales?”
“Yup. But nothing amounting to the amount of raw material they’re importing.” Munit smirked slightly. “So I went to the planning department and got a digital copy of the original specifications for the factories. Remember they showed us around the factories last month?”
Kelly nodded. It had been a particularly boring set of tours tied into the investigation of the company detectives deaths. They’d seen the operating floors and offices in both establishments those days. “I recall.”
Munit tossed a memory stick across to him. He failed to catch it and it smacked him on the head before dropping into his hand. “Take a look at those,” he advised, eventually getting up and slouching past the window to stand behind the Human and pant on the back of his neck. “See it?”
“You’re wilting my neck, boss,” Kelly replied and Munit stepped back beside the window. “Yeah,” the Human said, “I’m pretty sure I think so. It looks like they planned a bigger work area than they built.”
“No, no,” Munit corrected, “they built them in both cases. I’ve seen the work orders and judged the outside from satellite shots. They’re accurate,” he stated, glancing out at the street below. “The workfloors we saw are about thirty percent short.” He was partially judging by the placement of the toilets, offices and break rooms around the floors and the fact that they all seemed a lot closer to the corners than they should be. He pulled up photographs to compare and saw he was correct. “Who built these places,” he asked, looking out of the window again. The street was clear and dusty as usual, the two or three level homes and buildings currently lacking… something. He couldn’t quite place it…
“It looks like it was a company called Coiningen… Coin ninja?”
Munit peered at the name on the screen. Cwningen. He tried spelling it. “not a clue,” he confessed. He stood up again, turning around as a rope dangled past the window.

He grabbed hold of Kelly and pulled him away as the window exploded under the impact of heavy boots. Munit fired straight at the chest of the assailant and he spiralled back out of the window to fall to the ground below. Kelly pulled his own weapon and fired at the first one coming in through the door. The assailant staggered back but didn’t fall until Kelly cycled up the power and fired again. Munit hauled him down again as shot sailed through the open window from outside. The pair stayed there, against the corner, for the moment. He tried his comm but it didn’t connect. “Signal’s jammed,” he told Kelly. “And I doubt the local Police are coming. Not if they know we’re here. They don’t like us much.” He drew himself into a crouch. “They’ve stopped shooting. It’s hopefully not… Ah, heck, it is.” He took to his feet and raced for the door. “Come on, Kelly!” He dove into the corridor and came up, ready to fire. Nothing. He turned as he realised Kelly wasn’t with him. “Come on, Ke… Oh,” he added, seeing the pool of blood from his still lying friend just before the wall exploded inwards. The Shockwave blasted him off his feet as the entire corner of the building began to slip to the road outside. The floor beneath Munit cracked and bucked, tipping him back towards the office he’d been in and through it, into the rubble beyond.

Munit coughed as he refused to die. He was half trapped in the rubble, under the strong sun that almost broke through the rolling cloud of dust and debris that clogged his vision. As it began to clear as an armoured figure stepped closer to him. He tried to pull his gun up but his arm wasn’t responding correctly. He tried to clear the haze from his eyesight as the figure came closer. It looked like.. Lappinean? The figure stood over him, having crunched his way up the rubble. It pulled the weapon to bear. “Balbury says hello,” she taunted.
“I suppose I’d better say goodbye then,” a voice said from below the rubble. A yellow beam glowed through the chest of the Lappinean’s armour and into the ruined building. The Rabbit’s death shot missed Munit’s head as she started to twist around before her knees gave way and she fell dead to the floor and slipped down to land at Appleby’s feet. “Beamed down a little too late, I think,” she sighed.

[Amazee Dayzee]

What a very thrilling chapter! I love how this chapter played out also! ^^

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 31

Munit stirred under the anaesthetic as it struggled to keep him under and began failing as he blearily opened an eye and closed it again. His fuzzy brain wasn’t sure it could believe what it was seeing and that was a Wolf in a Doctor’s outfit wearing glasses. He groaned to check he was alive as he couldn’t seem to move. He seemed to still be here so he opened the eyes again. Still a Wolf but now he realised the ‘spectacles’ were just a colour effect around the eyes.
“You’re not dead,” the Wolf told him, his deep tones rolling through Munit’s ears. “I’m too good for that. You’re aboard the Rodomont.”
“Ro..do..”
The Wolf rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you’d try to talk. You look the sort. You had a collapsed lung, two breaks in the left leg, a cracked rib and the right arm’s gone. All your attackers are in the cold store and you’re not. Have I left anything out?”
Munit struggled to gulp. ”Ke...Kelly,” he managed.
“We didn’t get there in time,” Doctor Flakk stated. “There wasn’t a chance. He died in battle, though. The way most predators want to go.”
Doctor Cobalt looked over from the patient she was treating and decided to step across. “That’s a discussion for later, surely, Doctor Flakk, sir,” she asked, “He needs to rest a bit?”
“I suppose you’re right,” he allowed.

Appleby stood in the Police Chief’s office and decided she didn’t much like the Chief. He’d offered his condolences and his assurances but she wasn’t fooled into believing a single one of them. Unlike with Senny, she was wearing her telepath icon here and she could tell he’d employed a ‘neural fizz’ machine to white out his thoughts. Not that she needed them to read him. She put her handpaws onto his desktop. “I happen to KNOW the assault started at 1526 local time, the first calls came at 1527 and the first response from you came at 1535! I was there, myself, to meet them! Do you want to explain why there was an eight minute gap in between, Chief?”
“I had no closer units available,” the Chief lied smoothly.
“You have that much crime in this town, Chief,” Appleby retorted, “I didn’t notice much of anything in the colony reports.” She smirked. “Yeah, I read them. Always do. THEY seem to indicate you have more than enough deputies to handle the situation here but, if you’d like me to request more money for a hiring spree..?”
“I can deal with it, Agent Appleby,” the Chief retorted.
“And I can deal with what Munit and Kelly were dealing with,” Appleby replied. “Of course that does mean I’m going to need protection.” She pretended to muse, “as you’ve made your lot out to be slow and incompetent, I’ll have to take someone else.” She looked at him coldly. “I wonder if they’ll take so long if you’re with me?”

Postain, for his part, was meeting with the colony leader as protocol often insisted. “Of course,” he stated, wishing Appleby was with him, “we’re just here to support the effort of the IOC in their investigations. But, as we’ve arrived directly after an attempt on their lives, an attempt in which they named a noted person of interest in galactic level affairs, which does change things somewhat.”
“I don’t see how,” the lithe Mican replied, staring at Postain from across her Oak-effect table. “The regrettable attack on the IOC will be investigated and the perpetrators will be prosecuted…”
Postain snorted. “That would be more reassuring, madame President,” he remarked, “if it wasn’t some of your people they were investigating.”
Now she did her best to look stern – and Postain did his best to keep a straight face as, being a slight, middle aged, Mican female, she was about as intimidating to him as a water biscuit. “Those accusations were so without merit that even your own Commanders felt they were unwarranted! I can personally assure you, Captain…”
Postain put up his hands. “Please don’t, Madame President. Please don’t assure me you can vouch for everyone in your cabinet. I can believe in your innocence in the matter but two agents investigating Secretary Pirrit were attacked and one was killed. The investigation HAS to continue. I have an IOC officer aboard ship who’ll be taking the lead and we’ll need your support.”
She simmered down a little. From the softening of her face, Postain hoped she could see the bind he was in and the fact that he really didn’t think the corruption quite made it to her office. “Of course,” she said simply, “of course. You have the bigger guns, I suppose.”
“And no plans to use them,” Postain cut in.
“Granted.” She sighed and sat back down. “So, how can I help make your visit here… swifter?”
Postain gave her half a smile. “Don’t know yet,” he admitted, turning to head out, before turning. “Well, there IS one thing,” he mused. “All the Traffic Controllers from the main colonies have been having a meeting on Pandera these last couple of days. Any idea of what that might be about?”
She shrugged, failing to hide the irritation from her voice. “None whatsoever, Captain,” she remarked, before thinking. “But I might be able to find out. I’ll have to get back to you on that. Meantime, can I talk you into lunch or something?”
“I’m a bit busy, Ma’am,” Postain remarked. “Maybe later.”

Appleby had made a decision. She DID take the Police Chief with her but, in case of unexpected events, she took along some other ‘deputies’ from the Rodomont. Six fully armed security guards that Postain had allocated to her. The group approached Sidwat industries, manufacturers of notable farming machines. They crossed by combine harvesters and tractors, Appleby at their head, and walked in on the production line operations. “What is the meaning of this,” someone demanded, striding towards them. “I’m Halston DeWalt,” the Lappinean said, “the manager of this factory. I’m getting fed up of IOC tramping around here like we have something to hide!”
“Oh, don’t worry,” Appleby cut back, “I’m not intending to tramp. I have too much class for that. I strut!” She started walking towards the back of the bay. “Munit’s memories were kinda disordered,” she told the others, “which is probably because he was unconscious. But it did tell a few things. Like, for example,” she added, reaching the back wall, “that the dimensions don’t match.” She reached up and tapped in a code. “Add that to the code you’ve just been thinking of as we walked this way and we’ve got… this!”

The wall she was standing next to fizzled into nothingness, revealing yet more factory beyond. Whereas the main factory was working on farm equipment, the new section was lit up by the bright lights of a Chemical refinery, complete with Lappineans in white coats. She thumbed towards them as her troopers drew they’re weapons. “If you wanna explain this,” she told the flabbergasted manager, “I’m all ears. Of course, officially? You’re all under arrest.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Once again very wonderful work! You are such a fantastic writer!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 32

Appleby took cover, just in case someone decided to start shooting. She could feel the alarm of the scientists and orderlies at being discovered but knew full well that could turn quickly to anger. “This is Agent Appleby of the IOC,” she called out, “stop what you’re doing and come out! Anyone who complies will NOT be harmed!” She glanced at the Police Chief, who’d been just as surprised as an innocent could be when the solid wall hologram had dropped away and shrugged. “Might work,” she said with a grin. The grin faded and she sighed. “You probably should call this in,” she said, “someone wants to fight.”
A red pulse flashed across the hall as factory workers ran for their lives. “And here we go…” she said, holding up a mirror on a stick to see where the assailant was as her guards moved forward. “Try not to shoot into the chemicals,” she advised, “we kind of need the place un-destroyed!” She thought for a second. “Then again…” She spun around, took a second to aim and sent a shot into the tank closest to the one who’d fired at her. She sighed again as the chamber refused to explode. “Not as easy as in the movies…”
“Give it a moment,” the Chief replied, putting a hand over his comm to talk with her. “Pressure’s releasing.”
The tank blew shrapnel everywhere as Appleby saw what he meant. “That’s a lesson,” she admitted, advancing as her other guards fired. “Arrest this lot, would you,” she asked as white coats attempted to get past.

Senny considered her position as she lay on her bed and bounced a rubber ball off the ceiling. The place seemed all right but prison was prison was prison. She had a feeling she should start trying to pay off her sentence and wasn’t quite sure how. She didn’t even really know where they were now so she tossed the ball over her head and into a waste bin before flipping over acrobatically and to her feet. A minor patting down of her cargo pants and she headed out, into the ship. She stood aside as a group of guards ran past, towards the nearest teleport station. “What’s going on,” she asked.
The guard who’d escorted her to her cabin on her first ‘walk’ glanced at her. “Appleby’s under fire,” he told her.
Senny felt a twinge of something she didn’t like. It tasted like fear. A cold, twisty, feel like running out of breath when under ice. “Go save her, yeah?”
“Didn’t need telling,” he called back as he vanished from sight.
“Figured not,” Senny muttered, putting her hands into her pockets and slouchng around down the ship towards the flight decks.

Appleby rolled into a side corridor as she thought to work out the number of enemies they were facing. She had an idea it was eight or nine. They were dug in in the offices and passages and behind the chemical vats and she really didn’t believe they were doing that. It meant that they had to pick shots carefully and the Council forces were moving carefully through the infrastructure and narrowing them down as the Chief’s forces secured the outside.

“Fast action, it seems,” the Colony President told Postain, a forced grin on her face as she considered the possibility of blood on her street.
“We merely acted on information provided by Agent Munit,” Postain replied, keeping his arms crossed without caring about body language or, even, considering it.
“Yes,” she replied, a little uneasy, “can you pass my condolences on to your man? I wasn’t aware of how close things were getting. Did you find out anything about the assailants?”
Postain thought on how to respond before recalling he was trying to win the President over. “One of our Doctor’s carried out a post mortem on the one that was most… recognisable.” He uncrossed his arms and leaned on the chair opposite hers. “The diet seems to indicate he was from the Laputicka system and the contaminants and, ahem, disease he was carrying point to Laput IV according to Doctor Flass.” The Doctor’s actual words on the subject were that the contagion had broken out on Lapas XIV some ninety years back and the pathogen had entered the Lappinean blood there. It seemed the Doctor had been to Lapas XIV once, in his youth, and found the hunting quite boring. The Laput IV colony had the largest concentration of colonists from that world. It was another reminder to Postain that the Wolves had only joined the Council in the last three decades.
“I can get the immigration records for all the Laputicka Rabbitoids on the planet,” the President reported.
“I believe that’d be useful,” Postain replied casually, knowing there was no way they’d come in legitimately. But you never knew… “What concerns me is the fact they used Rabbitoids and not Micans. And that someone told your Police Chief to work against the IOC.”
She exhaled a long breath. “It’s really looking like I’ve got bought people in my cabinet.” She looked towards the ceiling and raised her hands in distress. “They’ve not even been bought by Micans!” She realised what she’d said and relaxed. “Not that that’s any better, of course,” she added quickly
Postain chuckled slightly. “Don’t worry,” he remarked, “I get it. Our own races is one thing. Other races is treason.” He arched an eyeridge. “And that’s in the confines of the Council,” he finished.
The President shrugged. “They try to work things for the benefit of all. Sometimes people lose out.”

Senny ambled her way down to the hangar deck and poked her head around the door. The collar gave her a warning beep. She had a feeling it’d give her another if she got within ten feet of a fighter and probably blap her head off if she got in one.
“Don’t think you’re supposed to be in here, Pirate,” a voice said from behind her. She turned to see a Feline behind her, hands behind his back. “I don’t think it’d be a good idea to let you too close to a fighter, hmm?”
“You’re probably right,” Senny admitted. “Mark IV’s?”
“Mark V’s,” Pascal replied. “I’m Flight Leader Pascal, by the way, Senneka Rivers.” He offered a hand.
She didn’t take it. “How do you know my name,” she challenged.
“How many Pirates do you think we have on this ship?”
She snorted and found herself unable to deny him a small grin at that. “Yeah, suppose.” She took the hand.
“Hear you’re a fighter pilot,” the Feline remarked.
“For my sins. Maintained my own ship for three years, bargaining and punching for supplies and what I could salvage to upgrade and replace things.”
“We do that too,” Pascal admitted. He frowned slightly. “You serious about reforming?”
She stiffened slightly. “I aim to behave until there’s no more warrant on my head,” she stated bluntly. “Beyond that? I’ll do what I need to do.”
“Yeah. Figured that. I’ve a thought on something. Someone like you knows where to get up to code replacement parts at cheaper prices, right?”
“I can think of a few places. They probably won’t work with you, though.”
“The information would still be useful. I could talk with the Deck Chief about letting you see the schematics for the fighters – or shuttles – to see what’s used.”
Senny felt elation. “That’s… a lot of trust.”
“You’re aboard this ship,” he explained. “You want it to survive as much as the rest of us.”

Appleby took stock of what had just happened. Security had come down. She figured it was nearly all of them. The situation was under some control.

President Dundee looked up from what she’d been reading and called Postain back in. She looked a little shaken. “I have the reason for the conference,” she admitted. “You won’t like it.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Keep up the good work with this! It is totally awesome!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Now, you know those explosive devices I've mentioned once or twice to do with Senny..?

Part 33

Postain wanted to be in on this one himself. He’d tell Rhew about what Dundee had told him a little later and he’d fill Postlethwaite on the situation too but, right now, he needed to take his annoyance out on someone so he was riding with Appleby on her way to pick up Secretary Pirrit at his compound outside the city. He made a guess there had to be family money involved in his life as ‘compounds’ didn’t usually go with ‘secretary’. Their car, accompanied by two others provided by the President’s office that contained a driver and four security in each. Appleby’s driver pulled up at the locked gate and the agent reached out and pressed the buzzer. No response. She pressed it again. “Not sure anyone’s home,” she inferred, a few seconds before a voice actually replied.
<”No deliveries today,”> it said cheekily.
Appleby held up her warrant card. “IOC to see Secretary Pirrit,” she announced.
<”Do you have an appointment?”>
“No,” she admitted, holding up a different document, “but I DO have a warrant. Open up. Now.”
The line went dead.
“Reckon they’re thinking about it,” Appleby asked.
“They might be,” Postain growled. “I’m not.” He tapped his comm. “Pascal, open the gate.”

The cars backed up as Pascal’s starlancer streaked through the atmosphere, holding course and wheeling off after obliterating the gates with a blast from the fighter’s cannons. An anti-aircraft cannon opened up on him but it was too late and he was gone. “Now,” Postain declared, “I’ve had it with this guy.”
“Is this a 4x4,” Appleby asked as the ruined gate landed some thirty feet down the driveway.
“It is, ma’am,” the driver remarked, taking the car down the drive again, around the shattered gate, and up to the house where they pulled up in the path of three other vehicles that were about to head out. Guards stepped from both sets of vehicles and pointed their guns at each other. Appleby let Postain take the lead here as she didn’t think she could stop him anyhow.
“You people need to stand down,” he remarked.
“Can’t do that, sir,” the lead guard replied levelly.
“Oh, you really should,” Appleby replied levelly. “Just to make this official…” She cleared her throat. “Mallus Pirrit, by the authority vested in me by the Unified Security Council – and your own colony president, by the way - we’re here to take you in with regards to charges of Fraud, theft, illegal weapons manufacturing and…” She looked at Postain. “What was that thing President Dundee wanted us to add?”
“Treason against the colony,” he growled.
“Yeah,” Appleby continued, “that. She’s not a happy Mouse right now. I think you’re safer with us. We don’t kill people for that. We DO, of course, for resisting arrest. Which your people are about to start doing.”
The implied warning had the Council guards ducking behind the armoured vehicle doors as the firing started. Appleby aimed low and shot an opponent in the foot, knocking him clear of the car door he was behind and Postain fired for the head as incoming fire struck their own car doors. The armour dented under the physical impact as the energy dissipation web did it’s job against the actual energy. She moved forward quickly, after feeling no-one was pointing weapons directly at her, and slinked to the car containing her target as Postain charged the second guard who was turning towards her. She pointed her weapon towards the Mican in the back seat way as she got in. “Would you like to tell them to surrender,” she asked the Mican as he dropped his own, small, pistol to the floor.
“S...Stand down,” he yelled as Postain headbutted the guard he was fighting before lifting him off his feet with an upper cut to the underside of the muzzle. The Captain reached into the vehicle and hauled the Mican out.

Senny sat in the engineering substation that hadn’t beeped her collar when she’d entered it and examined the specifications of the latest Starlancer fighters on paper print outs on the table. It was fortunate that she quite liked the ancient hardcopy format as it seemed the Chief of the Deck wasn’t going to trust her on the computers yet. What was less handy was her ingrained habit of chewing pencils. She was on her third already, and seriously thinking about changing to a pen as she marked her thoughts down on parts that could be reused and substitute parts that would work ‘almost’ as well for less cost. She’d watched from up here as the Feline had blasted out some ten minutes back and she idly thought she envied him, even though he was now trapped in a much smaller ship than she was in. He was, after all, in control of his little prison. She hoped Appleby was all right as well, wondering if he was helping Appleby. The little Erminean liar had kind of grown on her – like a fungus, perhaps. She looked at the thruster assembly and etched a couple of suggestions that the Deck Chief would probably ignore. She rose and stepped over to the replication machine. “River water,” she said after tapping the panel.
<”You are not authorised to use this facility,”> the computer reported, <”insufficient credit.”>
Senny rolled her eyes and poked her head out of the room to see if anyone was in the corridor. “Anyone available to buy a girl a drink,” she asked hopefully.

Postain pulled Pirrit from the car and thrust him against it’s shell hard. “There are DEAD people on the ground because of you, you little…”
“He… he never told me any of… of this would happen,” Pirrit jabbered, putting his hands to the small of his back. Where he’d hit the frame.
“Who never told you,” Postain growled. “Balbury?”
“Who..?” Pirrit started to talk but stopped as he heard something beep. “Is something b..?”
He stopped talking and died as a chunk blasted out of his neck. Postain dropped the corpse as the explosive device rendered the position useless. He looked in the wing mirror and decided he’d need to shower.
“Well,” Appleby said, sighing, “wasn’t expecting that.” She set to work, trying to catch Pirrit’s cooling memories.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I'm guessing that there is gonna be a lot of explosions in the not-to-distant future.

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 34

The lead security guard led the way into the house, under direct duress from Appleby – or, more accurately, her gun. She wasn’t that keen on more booby traps so figured it should be someone she didn’t like that did it. Someone that was taller than her. Someone who had annoyed her every minute she’d known them. Someone Canine. She’s run out of reasons not to pick Postain but had opted for the guy who knew the code.

The door opened onto a small hallway with a main set of stairs running up the middle and splitting to either side upstairs with a wide balcony connecting the two halves. Pictures of Pirrit’s family hung on the far wall, speaking to the power of his lineage and his potential plans for the future. Still, it was hardly relevant. “Take me to his computer,” she instructed her ‘guide’ as Postain carried the body inside. “The Doctor’s not going to thank you for that,” she advised.
“Stuff ‘im,” Postain replied, “I wasn’t leaving it out there where a secondary threat could have taken the Doctor out. He didn’t explode in here.”
Appleby took the guard further into the house, calling back that he didn’t explode until Postain got close. Postain put the corpse on the stairs for the technical crew to examine.

Lieutenant Palmer adjusted the lighter version of her outfit and adjusted her tool-belt, affixing her wrist-top computer and scanners into place before heading to the newly reactivated teleport bay one where Doctor Cobalt stood ready and waiting. “My new boss figures I could use the trip off ship,” she explained to the Human.
“He’s sending you to a murder site on a planet that’s showing over forty degrees celcius in the shade as a field trip gift? Are you sure he likes you?”
The Raitchian shrugged. “Trusts me enough to send me,” she remarked. “I reckon that’s gotta mean something.” She gave a wry smile. “Unless it means he just didn’t want to go.”
Palmer clapped Cobalt on the shoulder. “Ah, just accept the road trip, Kimmi.”
“Easy for you to say Jen,” Cobalt replied, grinning at the physicality of her friend despite her own doubts.
“I hope I’ve got all the bugs worked out,” the teleport officer said before engaging the controls.
“Hey,” Cobalt started, “what di..?”

“..d you say,” she finished as they arrived outside the house, raising her finger to accuse him.
Palmer sagged slightly under the heat but pulled herself upright with a little effort. “He’s been teleporting others in the last… wow, it’s hot… half an hour. He was kidding.”
Cobalt turned her face to the sun. “Nice day,” she remarked, accepting the feeling on her face for a moment before turning to the house. “Lot of blood there,” she said, pointing to the spatter effect on the floor and car. “I’m betting those three aren’t the bodies I’m here to check on, either,” she continued, nodding to the bodies on the ground.
One of the remaining guards indicated the house and she headed up, following Lieutenant Palmer into the decidedly cooler house. The Human looked decidedly more comfortable as Appleby made to greet them. “Hey, Kimmi, Jen,” she greeted. Uh, we’re needing you over here, Jen,” she continued, gesturing to the computer in the office. For you, Kimmi, it’s…”
“The guy on the stairs?”
“That’s right. What might you tell us?”
Cobalt looked at her evenly as Palmer headed into the other room. “Reading minds to learn first names is cheating, Siobhan. What can I tell you? Well, from this, the scene is badly compromised but I’m going to say something blew his neck out and he exsanguinated rather quickly judging by the mess out there. He explode over anyone?”
“Yeah, the Captain.”
“Probably better hope he didn’t have anything contagious or viral, then.” She set to work.

“Still no news on Appleby,” Senny asked Rhew as he walked by the break room, passing through on his way back to the bridge.
He frowned back at her. “You reckon I take calls when I’m in there,” he asked, pointing to the restroom he’d just been in. “I was only in there five minutes and you asked me on the way in and what are you doing in here anyhow?”
Senny pointed to the replication system. “No-one’s told the public ones that I exist so I need others to work them for me. The one I was in wasn’t well travelled so I came here. And I’ll have a River water whilst you’re up.”
“Right, of course. What are you doing?”
As he actually got her the drink, she decided she might as well reply with some honesty. “One of your pilots was interested in what I thought about your fighters and replacement/alternative parts in case of emergencies. He seemed OK and I have nothing against most of you officers – you can go hang, of course…”
“Nice to see you too,” Rhew replied.
“...so I decided I might as well help out. The concern for Appleby is because I… don’t completely hate her.”
“Right. Last I heard she was fine.”
“Well, ta for that anyhow, imperialist swine(!)”
Rhew headed back out without reply.

Postain hovered over Palmer’s shoulder as she loaded up some of the things she’d found after breaking the encryptions Pirrit had placed on his systems. He’d found little of interest to him during the searches although the Police Chief had stated the searches would continue. “Anything, Palmer,” he asked irritably.
“Depends what you’re looking for but yes,” she replied. “There’s E-mails about the purchasing of those factory sites and the repurposing thereof and information on youthful indiscretions by President Chichester Dundee for use when he ran for Colony President next year…”
“You have copies of all those,” Postain asked.
“Of course.”
“Then wipe the messages about The President. And do a thorough job.”
Palmer looked up at him. “It’s... convenient to have a President in power who owes us a favour,” he told her, “and she seems a decent one.”
“Ri-i-i-ight,” Palmer drawled, before heading to work.

Cobalt appeared in the doorway. “Well,” she said, removing her gloves, “I can be pretty sure what and who killed him. There’s a fragment of the explosive devices we use in the collar still in his neck.”
“He was wearing a collar?”
Cobalt shrugged. “Might have been implanted at some point. Thing is, they’re not set to go off by remote, they’re set to go off when they get too close to something operating on specific frequencies.” She paused for effect and Postain tapped his foot with annoyance. “Judging from what Appleby told me about the chain of events..?” She nodded to Postain’s hand. Or, more accurately, the communicator on the wrist. “YOU killed him, Captain.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Make sure you keep on writing! This story keeps on getting better and better all the time!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 35

The President paced her side of the desk as she assessed the report she’d just been given by the Captain during their latest meeting, one she’d insisted on having at Pirrit’s place after the place had been completely scanned by Palmer and the Police Chief. She’d greeted Doctor Cobalt and Agent Appleby on her way in and had smiled gently at Postain as he’d deigned to rise from the seated position. That was twenty minutes ago.

Now she wasn’t smiling quite so much. “Evidence on Pirrit, Wick, Fraserburgh AND Dornoch,” she exclaimed, noting the Captain was rubbing the back of his hand again. “Half my cabinet in their pocket? What does that say for me and my administration?”
“It suggests, ma’am,” Postain replied, looking to calm her down, “that they knew you wouldn’t go along with any of it. You put your people above profits. That makes you a troublemaker. On the other hand…”
“What?”
“He also listed those he considered threats for the future. Names that might help you rebuild the cabinet after some, er, ‘reshuffle’ which they couldn’t fight as the Chief out there starts investigating all the things they’re accused of in these files.”
President Dundee paused, her tail twitching as she pondered how to ask something. “Is there, uh..?”
“No,” Postain cut in, possibly a little too quickly. “Nothing about you in there, Madam President.”
“Right,” she replied, not quite believing the speed at which he’d interrupted. “I suppose I should be thankful for that?”
Postain shrugged. “Just prove those who don’t believe you’re corrupt right should do it.”
The President blew out a breath. “If Fraserburgh goes I’ll need a new Justice secretary…”
Postain sat back. “Happy where I am, Ma’am,” he admitted. “Thanks, though.”
Dundee spat a laugh. “Oh, like I was thinking of you,” she said, winking slightly as she exited the room so the Police Chief could secure it and his techs could ‘discover’ the files on the computer. He watched her go.
Appleby appeared in the doorway and grinned at him. “There’s life in the old dog yet, eh?”
He picked up the crushed mass of his comm and threw it at her.

“So why is it you do what you do,” Garza asked Munit as he sat by the Agent’s bed.
“You… you want the glib answer or… or the... the honest one?”
“I’ll give the honest one,” Doctor Flass cut in from behind the pair. “I did a great job getting him back up and running, child. You undo my work and I’ll put you in the next bed! You have five minutes and then I throw you out!”
“The, uh, quick answer,” the young journalist prompted swiftly.
“Well, uh,” Munit coughed, “you… you have to hope you’re changing things for… for the better. Helping… people. Well, the good people anyhow. The others..?” He coughed again. “Screw ‘em. They’re only after themselves…”
“Was it worth it?”
“Ask me when I’m not on pain killers, kid,” Munit replied with humour. “Kelly would have said ‘yes’. They killed him, you know? Right after he told me about Cwignet… Cuminger…”
“Can you spell it,” Garza asked and Munit did so, hesitantly. “C.w.n.i.n.g.e.n,,” Garza repeated, spelling it out. He stored it for further checking. Behind him, Doctor Flass, who’d been listening and ready to throw a journalist out, headed to his office.
“They came,” Munit continued, “and they killed him and they broke me and…”
A moment of silence strung out whilst Garza thought of what to ask next. “Where… where are you going from here,” he asked.
“Well, um, Doctor Happy there is seeing if there’s a prosthetic arm for me in… stores or if one needs to be ordered. Then…” he swallowed. “Then it’s several months getting used to it…” He began to look annoyed. “And then I’m getting back out there! Oh, yes! They killed one Agent today, kid, they did NOT kill two! I’m not… ready to give up…”
Flass soundlessly slid back out of his office and up behind Garza. “That’s the five minutes up, Cat,” he said before picking Garza up by the scruff of his neck and walking him out of the room. “You can visit again in seven hours. Goodbye.” Before Garza could even complain, Flass had dropped him in the corridor and shut the door behind him.
“Um, OK then,” Garza said, getting his nerve back in place. He decided he’d go question the pilots.

“You found… three pages of things,” Pascal asked Senny as Engineer Kimmi worked to fix the damaged replication machine in the break room. He licked a handkerchief and rubbed out a few errant lines she’d made as the Chipmunk pulled a pencil out from the circuitry. Kimmi blinked at it before repairing the damage and, on a two-for-one action, getting Senny on the system. “As you requested, you’re now on the system but I don’t think you should have the pencil back,” she told the Castoran. “I’d tell on you but it’d get this guy in trouble,” she added, nodding to Pascal before heading out.
Senny watched her go. “I had no idea that I could get a pencil down that hole from here,” she said, sort of defending herself. “It was pure bad luck!”
“Shouldn’t have been aiming then, should you,” Pascal replied. “That could well have gone down as sabotage.”
Senny had been afraid of that, if she were telling the truth. She’d known she was on something of a knife-edge the moment the writing implement had sailed from her hand and straight into the bottom of the imaging system. She’d thought it was solid but there was an inch, just an inch, at the centre of the base that was cut out to allow the imaging beam through for whatever reason and the pencil had jammed itself in there, point first, and dropped. A million to one shot. She’d never shot better. “She likes you, you know,” Senny told Pascal, completely changing the subject.
Pascal sighed and pushed back from the table. “Oh, don’t I know it! She’s cute and all but…”
“Don’t say it,” Senny advised with resignation.
“Say what?”
“Don’t say ‘there’s only room for one love in my life and I like to pull her controls in zero-gee.’ Don’t say that.”
Pascal looked at her oddly, then snorted a laugh. “I would NEVER say that! She’s more like a sister to me!”
“She wants to be a kissing Cousin.”
“You are terrible,” Pascal retorted, throwing the Handkerchief at her.

Postain called in at the medical bay to check in on Munit on his way back up to the bridge. He was about to head out again as the Agent was asleep when Flass pulled him into his new office.
“What’s the trouble, Doctor? He’s going to be fine, I hope?”
Flass looked at him impassively. Most others, Postain figured, would have been intimidated. “I treated him,” the Doctor remarked, “of course he’ll survive. But he told that Cub reporter something. He figured it was nothing but I’m not so sure. He said a word. Cwningen. I couldn’t recall where so I looked it up in the computer. It’s a local word to a country on a planet in the Mutter spiral worlds. Earth. I went there once when a party of U,S.C. specialists was invited to something called the ‘Cambrian hunt’ – or something like that. It’s a survival thing with missions.” He yawned. “Quite tough. As Human things go. But it’s interesting.”
“Why,” Postain asked boredly.
“because Cwningen is what the local guide served up for us the day before the thing started. He sat out the hunt, of course. It’s their word for the Earth Rabbit.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Better hope that they don't plan on cooking anymore rabbit. Hawle better watch himself. :O

[Welsh Halfwit]

And the answers start...

Part 36

Postain almost didn’t stop when he got to the bridge and Rhew almost had the feeling he was going to walk right past his chair and take over the Conn. The Canid did, however, stop himself and slam himself down into his chair. “Ensign Maldak,” he called, talking to the Quolla on communications, “who’s the closest U.S.C. vessel to our current location?”
“Uh,” she replied, checking the systems. “The Loper’s cruising near Aldair III right now, heading for Ralta IV…”
“Helm, plot an intercept course and engage at maximum speed. Maldak, we’re going silent. No calls in or out until we get to the Loper. My personal comm frequency has been compromised and the same may be true for the ship. Rhew, my office.” He stood again and left the bridge, storming towards his ready room.
Rhew turned to the remaining Lieutenant Commander on the bridge. “You have the bridge, apparently,” he said before following behind the Captain.

When he entered the cabin, Postain was pacing behind his desk and Rhew could almost feel the heat from here. “They’re cutting us out, Rhew,” he started as soon as the door closed.
“Who?”
“The planets! The...the… the main worlds! The Council works together to sort out disputes between the worlds and makes sure they don’t happen! It’s why they fund the Council! We’ve stopped wars by supporting talk for centuries and now..?” He threw his hands up before slamming them onto his desk and looking at Rhew with anger filled eyes. “Those stupid…” His claws scraped the top of the desk noisily. “The finance ministers from Laparra, Canis, Felis, Earth, Raitche, Celica…” He sucked in a breath. “They’re having a top secret meeting on Pandera in two days time! They believe that, if they can sort out agreements on how to split up the patch, the don’t have to pay the usual contributions to the Council.”
Rhew looked concerned. “And someone’s planning to move against them.”
“Yeah,” Postain grumbled, “Balbury, apparently.”
“I can guess it was The President told you about this,” Rhew remarked, “do you trust her?”
“Only so much,” Postain replied. “Mica was invited too, apparently. That’s where Dundee got the information. A cousin in the main government. Mica turned the invitation down.”
“Right. Does she know why?”
Postain shook his head. “Nope. Probably something to do with the fact they’re half our army and, if the Council gets it’s budget cut, most of them will want re-employment.”
“So why are we running for the Loper? Shouldn’t we tell command?”
Postain pointed past him. “As I said out there, my communicator frequency is compromised. They might have the ships comms frequencies...”
“Or the codes at Talvary,” Rhew interrupted, before realising what he’d done.
“I know that,” Postain commented, fighting to keep his tone level, “but I can’t do anything ABOUT that end so I’m doing it on MY end! I will use Hawle’s communications system.”
“Can we guarantee he’s not in on it somehow,” Rhew asked, waiting a few seconds before talking this time, just to make sure the Captain had finished talking.
“He dresses like a pirate and he’s as irreverent as the worst but he’s on our side. And he’s got a ship that can get to Pandera six hours before we could.”

Pandera City turned towards evening and Feldar Jones sighed as he faced his team. Patcha was sat atop her desk, feet dangling onto her chair as Beran leaned on one of the Computer consoles. One of the guards that normally waited in the reception area completed the team in Davidstow’s absence as the Mican got his wounds treated at the main medical centre. “So,” he declared, “we know that Pratchitt & Wodan received the Quadria Ore and shipped it… somewhere… Yes, Ollen,” he said, gesturing to the Raitchian guard, who had his hand up.
“How, um…” Ollen looked around, suddenly conscious of people looking at him. “H...how do we know that?”
“It’s in their files,” Karl drawled. She ran a finger claw around the rim of her china mug. “In any hunt, you go for the blood. For a business like theirs? The blood pumps through the files.”
“Patcha,” Feldar stated. “Two minute break. Get a sandwich. Now.” He glanced at the guard as the Wolf hopped down and stalked off. “She’s not good when she’s hungry. How’s that girl of yours?”
“Oh, growing fast, sir. She’ll be in school soon.”
“That fast, eh,” he replied as Patcha returned with a Chicken Burrito. The IOC objected to her keeping live things in the fridge (except the Celicans, who sometimes ‘borrowed’ things) so she’d decided to get used to things like this. It still broke slightly in her hands.
“We also know that Balbury is here and there’s some sort of meeting being arranged. What it’s to do with, we… don’t actually know, do we?”
“Nope,” Adriette cut in. “We’re not exactly batting one thousand, are we?”
“I… have no idea what that means, Adriette, but we go with what we have. Adriette, take Patcha back to the Spaceport, see if you can get anything about the meeting from the staff. Ollen and I’ll go through the files and finances again, see what we can get from them.”
Karl finished off her Burrito. “Least I can get something from the ‘port restaurant,” she grouched, heading for the door. “C’mon, Adriette,” she demanded.
Beran laughed. “Dinner’s on her tab,” she remarked.

In the city itself, Corp Davidstow found himself in a bar, propping up his patched leg with a double Rum from the Caldera Sugarfields. The bar he’d chosen resided half a block from one of the better hotels in the city and was roughly a mile from his little apartment so he could stagger back there after getting a teeny bit blotto as he often did after getting wounded. They’d patched the wound perfectly well but it was, as always, a worrying reminder that, next time, there might be no time for Rum or, indeed, any other drink. It gave him cause to reflect on those he’d served with who were always there, with him. He raised another glass to them.
“Might I join you,” a voice asked.
Corp almost spun off the stool at the sound and reached for the weapon in his holster but he chose not to draw it as he was in a public place and the old Lappinean didn’t appear to be armed, although Corp was well aware of the true situation. The cane he was walking on hid a multitude of weapons and at least three of the others in the bar were probably his ‘allies’ as well. “You’ve been looking for me,” Balbury asked, before sitting next to the Mican with a single Scotch in his hand. “I think we should talk, don’t you?”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Very wonderful job here! I am always so impressed with your work!

[Welsh Halfwit]

And I drag it out a bit more...

Part 37

“So I hear you’ve had quite a day,”
Appleby snorted. “That’s one way of looking at it, Senny.” She put her coffee down on the side table and relaxed into Senny’s spare chair.
Senny stepped over to the couch by the wall and angled herself to look over at the Erminean. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Appleby thought about it. She decided she probably did need to talk about it and, frankly, who else did she have that she could talk to? Everyone else on the ship was either supposed to respect her or have confidence in her. She couldn’t just open up to them on things like this. That left either the holographic counsellor – again – or someone outside the command chain. Cobalt didn’t need her complaints right now, Jul would probably try and make it a date and Flass she neither knew nor trusted not to be terrifying. So who else did that leave her? “You know I came to talk about your ‘pencil’ incident, right? Pascal was thinking about it so it’s totally off the record… But yes,” she continued. “I probably should. Probably not to you, Senny, but there’s no-one else.”
Senny grinned from behind her tea. “So I’m actually better than no-one, eh?”
“You know it.” Appleby took another sip of her drink. “Right then. You know I’m telepathic, right?”
“Not that you’ve tried to keep it a secret, Harmony,” Senny joked, recalling the Agent’s first encounter a few days back.
“And I’m not apologising for that, Senny. But today was kinda rough. Had a number die on me today. That’s always tough for a telepath – especially when I’m the one shot one in the back.” She sighed sadly. “He was so surprised at that. But, um, that wasn’t the worst? I… I mean, after that, I discovered the lab they were using to refine stuff and..?” She paused, unsure if she should continue on. She steeled herself. “Then we went after the suspect and, um, the enemy killed him to stop him answering questions. There’s, uh,” she wavered again here, “this thing I can do? Where I go into direct contact with the mind? It’s really not pleasant, especially when…” She choked for a second. “Especially when they’re with you in their mind and you’re trying to keep them calm. It’s.. hard and...Uh..,”
Senny stood up. “Stand up a moment,” she instructed, running a poem through her head to mask her thoughts.
Appleby put her drink down and, cautiously, stood up to face the Pirate. “OK, but…”
She found herself lost for words as the powerful Castoran pulled her into a hug. She pushed back her emotional fear and, just in case, tossed her comm onto the seat she’d just been on as Senny put her head onto Appleby’s shoulder. “All I can know of you,” the ‘captive’ said into her ‘captor’s ear, “is that you’re one of the good people, Harmony. I figure you’re in this to make people better, yeah? Kinda the ‘nice guy’ to ‘Captain nasty’?” She pulled back a little. “It’s the harder path,” she admitted. “You’ll see darker more often than he’ll see light.” She tapped her friend on the nose. “You’ll change more people than he will, y’know? You just gotta remember that it’s not just the bad guys out there.”
Appleby released herself from the hug that she was a little surprised she’d reciprocated and enjoyed. “Thanks for that,” she said, finding strength to retake her seat. “Now,” she grinned, “about this pencil…”

“Time on target,” Postain demanded of his bridge crew.
“Uh, twenty five minutes, sir,” Levan called from his science station.
“OK, Maldak,” he said, “lift the radio silence to send a message. Tell the Loper we’re incoming. Wait for reply, then re-engage the silence.”
“Confirmed, sir,” the Quolla said, flicking switches and pressing buttons to reactivate the system. When she got through, she waited on their single response before shutting it down again. “They reply that they’ll be waiting for us at their current location, sir.”
“Good,” Postain replied, “sooner I can tell Postlethwaite what we know, the sooner we can get to Pandera and put an end to that flaming Rabbit!

“Do you want to put me under arrest,” Balbury asked, raising a hand to indicate how uncaring he was of the option, “or are you prepared to just record the things that I say?” The pair had moved to a table close to the wall, where Davidstow sat with his back to the wall and kept his eyes on the rogue Rabbit, listening to him despite the low level music trying to blot out his words.
“I’ll decide later,” Corp replied tersely, activating his recording device. “And you’ll tell what you want me to hear whichever way.”
Balbury sipped his Whisky. “Quite true. I always think an unearned truth devalues the concept. But, on this occasion, I am quite willing to bankrupt myself with the policy. Events have been occurring here in the Yarrada sector – or, as I believe the quaint term is, the ‘Briar patch’ that are of concern to me. So I have been investigating,” he confided, “and I have discovered alarming things.” He winced as the song reached a particularly shrill point in the proceedings. “Do youngsters really appreciate this artist,” he asked, “she has little in the way of quality, does she?” he waved a hand and thought on how hard it was to tell the truth, even an edited version of it. “Anyway, as I was saying, I imagine you’ve discovered a few things yourself, hmm?” he waited a few seconds for a response that wasn’t coming, so he decided to press on. “The theft of the ore and the attempt to discredit the Military Commander of the sector were kind of obvious so you must have noticed.”
Corp glanced at him wryly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Oh, I don’t mean you personally,” Balbury assured him, “you have a good team but there’s no way for you to enter the scenario before the crime. I can wander around, poking my nose in, whenever. So I’m ahead of you.”
Davidstow sat back in the chair, still alert. “Ahead of me on what, Balbury?”
“Oh, call me Aldous, please. We are trying to be civil here. There is a plot,” he confided with a grim smile. “A dangerous one. One that is capable of damaging both Laparra and the Council if it succeeds. And I have absolutely no interest in letting it happen.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

I am still loving how this is coming along. You are doing great work continuously and it shows.

[Welsh Halfwit]

Explanation time from Balbury. I love writing this guy at times.

Part 38

“The ‘Unified Security Council’,” Balbury said languidly, air-quoting the word ‘Security’. “The very name is supposed to inspire unity and strength, wouldn’t you say, Corp?”
Corp Davidstow glowered at the elderly Rabbit but said nothing.
“No,” Balbury allowed, “perhaps you wouldn’t. But security against what, do you think? What opposing force did we need to be united against?” he sipped his drink. “It really is quite a decent grain. I’ll have to take a bottle home. Anyhow, it’s one of those things that has been forgotten. Lost to history. Some threat that never quite happened because we stood together, strong. And that is what has gone down in history.” He looked Corp in the eye. “Are you just going to say nothing? I do like the sound of my own voice but this is a little monotonous.”
“I’ll talk when I have something to say,” Corp warned.
“Oh, very well. And back to the name. It’s quite simple, my Mican fr… no, perhaps not. What the council could provide security on was ourselves. It came out of the prey wars, remember? Mican forces fighting with Raitchians, then fighting alongside them and the Lappineans against the Felines and Celicans. The Canines acted as mediators simply because they didn’t like either side much. The security they provided was protection against our own worst impulses.”
“You’ve given in to those ‘worst impulses’ on a number of occasions,” Corp cut in, allowing Balbury to sip his drink again. “The operation on Caltair seven, the assassination of the insurgency high command on Mica three…”
“I was never connected with that in law,” Balbury asserted, “although it did stabilize that government for a number of weeks…”
“...before a new leader came through. One who did a quick trade deal with Lappara when he ousted the government..”
Balbury shrugged. “Roll the dice. We need the Council, you see? If the species were to fall out again… Well, the Micans have the military, the Felines and the Celicans have equivalent strength and teeth, the Raitchians will do whatever deals are needed to stay out of it and where does that leave us?” He flopped an ear to point to himself. “It leaves us with our ears and our legs, Mr Davidstow.”
“And you’ve interfered with our operations over the years too…”
“And I’ve interfered FOR your operations on occasion, Corp,” Balbury asserted. “That time on Celica, I didn’t need to be at that Energy secretary’s gala when he was about to ‘wage war’, but I was. And a certain Fennekin officer owes her life to it. It behoved me to assist her in stabilizing the government.”
“A stable race of predators is better than them warring, you mean?”
“We prey do tend to get crushed underfoot at times. The best time to change the path of a stampede is before it has begun, after all. The Council does provide security,” the old Lappinean allowed, “but it does not provide balance. That is left to the agencies like the one I used to run. We operate largely behind the scenes, snipping the strings that, if pulled, could advance one race over the others.”
“Are you getting near a point?”
Balbury looked affronted. “I thought the whole conversation WAS the point? Us, talking together, working together. If the fools meeting here tomorrow have their way, there will be less of this. Much less.”

“I became aware of this group buying land and influence in the patch a month or two ago. I’d… had prior dealings with them so I decided to come myself. I looked around Cora two and I found a factory larger than it should have been that seemed to involve funds sourced from the ‘division’ – that’s how I refer to them, by the way. Because there are a lot of them. Young fools with no clue as to what they’re doing. They dealt with filth like Pirrit…” He shook his head. “Never mind, I hear your Captain Postain and Agent Harmony Appleby have sorted that situation today, despite the Division’s little comms ‘safeguard’. The refinery process, of course, takes mere hours to turn Quadria Ore to a very large device and brought it here via their robotic ship. So,” he added, finishing his drink, “I knew where and I knew what. I still had to know WHY.” He jiggled his empty glass. “Your round, I think? I can wait.”
Slugging back the last of his own drink, Corp pocketed his recorder and took the glasses back up to the bar.

Three minutes later he returned and checked under the seats.
“An exploding bar stool is hardly my style, Mr Davidstow,” Balbury complained, his reference to explosives unheard in the background music.
“You announced your intentions on Corra Two this morning, I hear,” Corp commented, sitting down. “Beran told me earlier,” he added, letting his teeth show as he glared at the spymaster. “Your people announced you sent them before they almost finished off two officers.”
“Does that sound like something I’d do,” Balbury asked languidly.
“It sounds like something you’d tell them to do so you can deny ever saying you did it now,” Corp replied, working that line out in his head after he’d said it to make sure it made sense.
“Ha,” Balbury laughed, “I am under the skin, aren’t I? Anyhow, as I was saying, I needed to know why and I learned that after taking the place of a chauffeur as I know you saw. You can still put a wiggle on when you want to, can’t you?”
“So glad you approve.” Corp stated before Balbury outlined the purpose of the coming meeting.

The drinks were both almost finished now as Balbury talked and laid out the situation. “If each race involves just itself and cuts out the Council, we risk the long range dissolution of the council and, potentially a return to the situation we were in beforehand. That is not acceptable.” He shrugged. “It’s also not sanctioned by the Lappinean president but no-one really listens to her anyhow. And then there’s the Division’s plan to spread dissent between the races and break the Council up.”
“They bomb the meeting,” Corp stated.
“Quite so. The details behind the meeting come to public view and there’s a widening split between the Council and the planets. Arguments that cannot be resolved spew forth and old ruptures spew fifth, to turn a phrase. I’m from the first generation after the Prey Wars, Mr Davidstow. I still recall my Mother’s stories. I have no wish to see that for myself. The youngsters have no idea what they are bringing about. Now, you should go and get your people involved and act to save those who might destroy you. Prove your worth, as it were. Oh,” he added, after standing, “I believe they do have a back up plan if the device fails. The other people you’re investigating, on Caldera? Well, they specialise in sales of ships. I believe the computer that annoying Mouse stole from my people will let you know what I already suspect.”
A growl behind him made him turn to face Patcha Karl, claws ready to strike and teeth bared. “Harvest better be O.K.” she warned.
“You called when you went to the bar, of course,” Balbury said matter-of-factly. “Ah,” he added, greeting Adriette, “The exquisite Miss Beran. How is your brother?”
“Fine, thank you. As you knew.”
He smiled. “I did indeed. It always pays to keep an eye on someone you once helped out of trouble. In case you ever need to do it again.”
“Anyone else you need mock assassinating,” Beran asked.
“Oh, there’s always someone,” he replied graciously before agreeing to look at Karl. “And thank you for confirming the Mouse is a friend. He’s fine, by the way. Now, if you’ll excuse me?” He made to pass. Karl blocked his way.
“Patcha,” Corp warned as he noted several others around the bar getting to their feet or shifting position.
“Of course I set the stage, dear,” Balbury remarked. “And I haven’t told them to shoot at you if anything happens to me, by the way. I need you to act on what I told Mr Davidstow.” He leaned in closer. “They will shoot everyone else,” he commented simply. “Please do not force their weapons.” She stepped back, fury radiating off her as she clenched and unclenched her fists, drawing blood from her own hands. Balbury walked out slowly.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I certain can see why he is great to write for! Great job!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 39.

Feldar Jones stood in the main communications room at Pandera’s IOC complex and walked in front of images of Henry Postlethwaite, Captain Postain and Commander Hawle, who’d insisted on being part of this as payment for Postain using his communications system to send messages. He’d had specialists in over the last few hours, running scans and programs designed to find any bugs or back doors into the system at his end and he hoped they been running similar at theirs as he outlined the extent of what Balbury had told Davidstow just an hour ago. He’d seen by their faces that the old Rabbit’s tale held at least some indication of truth but this was Ballbury, a being for whom even direct truths hid opaque lies. “Do we trust him,” Jones asked his colleagues and superiors.
<”We can’t afford not to, Feldar,”> Postlethwaite told him. <”We’ve had corroboration on the existence of the meeting somewhere on Pandera, so that much is true.”>
<”But why Pandera,”> Hawle asked, <”Why not have it on one of the core worlds?”>
Jones shrugged. “We’d probably know about it if the ministers went to Lappara or Earth or Celica. The local press would be all over it and we’d know. Here, on Pandera? It’s the financial centre of the patch and they’ve all got consulates or ‘extremely well connected’ business people here. Plus the local information.”
<”Ah, yeah,”> Hawle said, seemingly trying to make up face for asking what had obviously been a silly question, <”the central records division is there, isn’t it?”>
Feldar nodded. It had been a decent idea to put the records on Pandera as it was the financial hub and because the Council needed it too and the Council had - once - had Cabbary Station in orbit. “But now I need to know how to proceed. I’ve got Karl and Ollen doing what they can to contact hotels and conference centres large enough to hold such a meeting but it’s hard to get a reply at this hour.”
<”Get Corp and Adriette back in to help,”> Henry ordered.
“Not sure that’ll do much good,” Feldar mentioned, “It’s two am. Most of the Hotels aren’t answering. And Adriette and Corp have been up the full 24.”
<”Get them back in as soon as possible,”> Henry remarked. <”When you get there, Hawle, you can commence a scan of the planet. Look for Human life signs. You join him when you get there, Marius.”>
Postain nodded. <”I might have another way to narrow the parameters,”> he advised. <”I’ll have to send a message.”>
Postlethwaite nodded. <”Get things done. The computer seized from Calderon City confirms the ‘purchase’ of a Lappinean Hota class heavy cruiser that was delivered to Grey’s world in the Laputicka system for their colony militia. But their Militia Commander tells me that they never bought one. Largely because they can’t afford something like that. I’ve sent messages to command and they’re going to get into it with the council. They’re sending the Coronado but she’s not going to get here for a day or so and, as we don’t know when this blasted conference is on...”> The image slapped his hands on his waist. <”Let’s get to it.”>

Postain got back to the Rodomont and ordered best speed to Pandera even as the Loper took flight. At their best speed they’d be there an hour before the Rodomont and Postain hoped they had the sense to run like the wind if they encountered the Hota before the Rodomont got there. The Hota class was the ship the Lappineans were hoping to supply to the Council some five years back but, when the recession had hit, they’d needed to cut budgets and the Council hadn’t been looking to buy. It looked rather like they’d ‘sold’ one to pay some bills. Someone would have to pay for that later. Probably Balbury would see to that. Or he’d blackmail the criminal.
“Are we into the endgame,” Rhew asked as Postain took his chair. “The techs have taken apart the comms system and put it back together whilst you were over there, sir,” he added, “the frequencies have been adjusted and cleaned.”
“Right,” Postain nodded. “Good to know. Now that we don’t need them.” He caught himself. “Except that I do. I’ll make a call, then call you into the office to update you.”
“Of course.”
Postain considered asking how his injuries were but decided against it. He really didn’t need to think on that now. He didn’t bother to excuse himself and just headed to his office.

He looked at the clock and tried to work out what time it was on Cora II. He’d demanded contact with President Dundee and they were putting him through. Eventually she appeared and Postain immediately sort of regretted the call. Although he did have to control a smirk as the President was still showing signs of ‘bed head’ and was wearing a light top with prints of various wheats on. Pyjamas, probably. “Sorry to wake you, Madame President,” he said, “but I need a little help and the timer’s in the red zone.”
She bleared at him. <”That’s OK, Marius,”> she said sleepily, slipping into first name usage. <”I was getting up in four hours.”> She yawned and blinked. <”What’s the problem?”>
Postain grimaced. “We need all the information you can get us on that meeting on Pandera,” he admitted, “Like where it is? It’s a big planet to search and the people looking to attack it seem to know where it is. The Council’s trying to get the information but, if you can help..? It would save a lot of lives, Madame President.”
<”I’m, Madame President when in public,”> she mentioned, <”and when awake. Calling now means you call me Chichester. Or Chich.”> She tried a smile. <”And that’s an order.”>
Postain actually grinned this time. “You can’t order me,” he half protested, “I’m not in your Militia… Chich.” He cut the line after she said she’d call him back in an hour and called Rhew in.

Senny pulled herself out of bed and wondered why she was unable to sleep. She’d done a fair bit of work today – and had a fair bit of coffee. Perhaps that was why she couldn’t just drop off? She normally didn’t even have to go to bed to fall asleep, she could do it in a chair but tonight..? She sighed and decided to go for a walk.

The ship was in night mode, complete with lowered lights, as she wandered the corridors, encountering barely anyone. She found herself at a ship shop that she’d never known was there and used Severn’s ‘borrowed’ credit chit to buy herself some un-replicated foodstuffs that she might eat later on and headed back, taking a couple of wrong turns that had her coming across a technician working a wall panel. “Sorry,” she apologised, “didn’t mean to…” She didn’t finish as the Lappinean pulled a gun and fired..

Senny moved to the side and dropped her items as the shot scorched under her left side, ruining her shirt and taking a strip of skin with it. She weighed the options and charged to grapple with the ‘technician’ as the yellow alert siren blasted into life.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I really am liking this story! You should be a professional writer!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Someone is playful. Its not the Doctor.

Part 40

Senny grappled for the gun and forced it away from her as the struggle went on. She twisted the arm sharply, drawing a small cry of pain as the device clattered to the floor. She tried to get a grip on the individual as he twisted and punched to her head. Being her, she’d taken more than one or two blows to the head so was able to roll with it and keep a grip so she could aim to stamp on his foot. He hopped in pain and she took the chance to flip him onto the floor, which brought him crashing to the floor, facing her. She realised the mistake just too late as he compacted himself and kicked out viciously with both his feet, taking out her lower legs and making her fall forward to where he’d just left. As she landed, she felt him trying to pull at her neck and she realised what he was trying to do. He was trying to activate the explosive charge. She put her elbow back to connect with his chest and she felt his skin of his chest pull around the impact and thrust herself upwards to her feet to slam him against the bulkhead wall to make him loosen his grip. The collar beeped. As he kept trying.

Before stopping as Senny was pushed forward then turned by a large hand to see… a spectacled Wolf? She looked into the eyes that demanded attention and obedience and had to fight the impulse to give it. The Wolf looked at her, lips drawn back to expose his teeth as he looked from Senny to the Rabbit. “I have had a long day,” Doctor Flass warned, keeping his voice low for maximum effect, “and I do NOT need gunfire and fighting going on outside my rooms at night!”
“He was trying to kill me,” Senny said defensively.
“She was attacking me,” the Lappinean countered.
“If either of you talk again until security get here,” the Wolf warned with intent, “I WILL complete what the other was trying to do!” His grip was strong but Senny had no real need to fight. At least security wouldn’t try to kill her. Probably.

“What’s going on here,” the Feline security Chief demanded, rounding the corner.
“These two were fighting outside my quarters,” Flass remarked, not turning to look at her as he held both of them to the wall.
“You can let them go now,” she told him, putting herself in his eyeline as more guards arrived. “We’ll take them both in.”
“Check the wall panel,” Senny coughed.
“Doctor,” the Chief advised, “please stop choking the Pirate.”
Senny took in some air as she dropped from the hand.
“For what it’s worth,” Flass admitted, “I think she’s telling the truth more than he is.”
“On what do you base that, Doc,” the Chief asked angrily, ready to dismiss his argument.
“She’s been shot,” he added as she sagged. He picked her up again and slung her over his shoulder. “You’ll find this one in Sick bay,” he said before walking away with her.
The Chief threw her hands up and gestured to a guard. “Go with them! Make sure she doesn’t kill him somehow. Or him her,” she called as the Celican headed after the Wolf. “What’s in that opening that you were fiddling with,” she asked the Lappinean.
“I...I found her fiddling with it,” the desperate Rabbit bluffed, his ears drooping. “I tried to stop her…”
“You do realise we have ways we can check on that, right?” The Chief gestured to the dropped items in the corridor. “Just bought from the shop, probably. Very few people buy groceries before committing sabotage. And then there’s her.” She thumbed over her shoulder to where Appleby was leaning against the bulkhead. Appleby gave him a fingerwave as the Captain rounded the corner as well, knocking her aside as he demanded to know what was going on. “From what I can gather,” the Chief explained, “the Pirate came upon Engineer Gaval here doing some late night work on the systems here…”
“The Communications systems,” Appleby added, knowingly,
“...right. She tried to stop him and a fight broke out. When I got here, Flass was strangling the pair of them. He’s taken the Pirate to the sick bay to sort out her wound from where this one shot her. That’s what set the alarms off.”
“Appleby,” Postain started, “I want you to…” he turned around to talk to Appleby but she was already gone. “Guess you’re doing it, Chief. Unless you want ME to?”
“I’ll keep you as back up, sir,” the Chief said, taking the engineer to security as her officer secured the scene and stored the items strewn over the floor.

Postain’s comm beeped as he watched them go and he wondered what was going on now. “Yes,” he said tersely, knowing it was Maldak from the frequency ident that showed up on the tiny display. “What is it now, Maldak?”
<“Sorry, sir. Got a priority call coming through for you from Cora II.”>
“Route it to my cabin,” he replied, taking to his toes to get there quickly.

It took a moment but he entered the sparse living quarters and sat himself on his sofa, which puffed dust at him from the amount of times he’d sat on it. He coughed once and authorised the call to be put through. “Madame Pre…” He stopped himself as she put a finger up. “Chich,” he corrected. “You have something for me?”
The still pyjama clad President had obviously brushed her facial fur into place and had a slight sparkle in the corner of her eye and a smile on her lip. <”I’ gonna have to charge a price for this, y’know,”> she chided, completely without seriousness. <”Can’t have people thinking I work for you, can I?”>
Despite himself, he felt a little like smiling. He put a finger to his lower lip. “What sort of price would you be talking of?”
<”I want to talk with the Council about having a U.S.C. base on the colony. I’d need to, um, discuss the thing with the serving Military Commander first, I believe? Shall we say two weeks from today?”>
Worry gripped Postain’s heart as he considered she wanted him to try… politics. But there was things to consider. He needed the information and, frankly, there was the idea of spending a little time with her. He knew there were good reasons for a base there, amongst which was an enhanced incentive to help them pay for weather control. He’d just have to get the information from Postlethwaite beforehand. “I’ll, um, be there,” he told her. “If I survive, of course.”
<”You’d better,”> she told him. <”I have the information you need.”>

[Amazee Dayzee]

I wouldn't want a doctor to be playful either if one is taking care of me. But that's just my opinion! Awesome work!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 41

Dawn broke over Pandera City during the first hour of the morning ‘rush’ as vehicles clogged the motorized arteries and Corp was just a little thankful that, whereas they were headed into the city, he was headed out of it. That was about the only thing he was thankful for, though. The information Postain had provided had told them the conference centre the delegates were going to be at today, after near constant denials that they were even on the planet from the consulates. The paranoia of politics, he supposed. The IOC had to be against this meeting that they were insistent on, hadn’t they? The IOC worked for the Council and this meeting was expressly counter to the Council, wasn’t it? So the IOC shouldn’t be told anything about the meeting, should they? Now the opposition had a head start on them and the race was approaching the finish line. He’d had three hours sleep and was driving to get Karl because she was somewhere on his way and Adriette wasn’t. They’d try to time it so they met up five miles from target but they had two hundred miles to make up and four hours to do it in.

“I KNOW it’s last minute, Sheriff,” Jones told the law officer on the phone as he waited on Beran, “but we’ve only just found out this event is going on IN your jurisdiction and we have evidence that terrorists are planning to bomb the convention centre! We need you to get the delegates out of there until we can secure the site!”
<”They’re not going to like it,”> the Sheriff’s voice said from his speakers as Beran got in and Jones pulled away from her house.
“They’re politicians,” Jones explained, turning onto the main road south, “they can spin it, Sheriff Deeny. We’ll be there in… two hours. Jones out.” He turned the phone off.
“Why…” Adriette Beran yawned, “ ...why can’t we take the shuttle? Two hours at this time in the morning?”
“Two important reasons we can’t take the shuttle,” Jones replied. “The first is that it’s the airzone’s secured around the location, which is part of what that meeting of the controllers was about – as well as getting all the delegates here in the first place. The second reason we’re not taking the shuttle is we don’t have one.”
“Good point. And the reason we’re not calling in the local Army division?”
“They’re on manoeuvres out west. They’re being scrambled but they’re further away than we are.” He turned onto the freeway. “It’s almost like someone planned this.”
“Or they just got lucky. No time to get a Coffee?”
“Glove compartment,” he said. Beran reached in and pulled out a red can. “Instaheat espresso,” he advised.
She grimaced but cracked the ball at the bottom and let the can heat up.


Senny forced her way back to consciousness and bleared at Appleby. “What… Why am I croaking?”
“You did something brave and extremely stupid,” Appleby replied. “Quite by accident, of course.”
“Oh, that I remember,” Senny said, sitting up and wincing at the pain in her side.
“That’s right,” Flass complained from his office, “undo my work, why don’t you?”
“He probably didn’t do much to help when he put you over his shoulder to carry you here,” Appleby said quietly, nodding towards the cranky Medic. “But you were shot.”
“I remember than,” Senny smirked, “I was there at the time. What was with that guy?”
Appleby adjusted her position to explain. “He was installing bugs on our comms system. They’re still ‘having words’ with him about the person who assigned him to the ship.” She chuckled. “Postlethwaite’s new adjutant’s not all he seemed. Which pleased the Captain no end. Seems it got him off a possible charge…” She looked over at her friend. “He’s requested two years off your sentence, by the way.”
Senny chuckled, then winced. “Thank him for that, eh? Only another hundred and five to get this thing off.”
“Ach,” Appleby commented draughtily, “you’ll have that done in five. And I’m sure you’ll be doing it for the right reasons, too?” She raised an eye-ridge at the Pirate.
“Riiiight,” Senny drawled. “Hey, Doc,” she called, “I gotta stay here or can I be helped back to my place?”
Flass put the padd he’d been pretending to read down and gave her a tight glance. “All sanity says you should stay here,” he said nastily. “So you’ll probably put that sensor on,” he continued, pointing to a sensor on the cabinet by the door, “and sod off before I see you go. Then I can get back to MY rooms.”
Appleby helped her friend back to her room, grabbing the sensor on the way past.

Corp had several hopes when he pulled onto the fuel station forecourt where they’d agreed to meet up. First he was hoping the station had a power cable for the anti-gravity engine as the road had been full of potholes the last twenty miles and he’d really like to get back above them before his leg got shook and jarred badly enough to undo the healing of yesterday. Secondly he wanted a Bacon sandwich so he hoped they had food, even packet sandwiches. Thirdly he hoped Beran would swap with Karl for the rest of the journey. She’d said NOTHING for two hours and kept switching the music off when he turned it on. He’d been on the verge of reminding her this was HIS car but he really didn’t think she cared. Fourth, he told himself as he accomplished hope number one, hope the Police Chief had listened to Jones. He’d find out soon. They were pulling up as his anti-gravity engine charged. He made his way into the shop. No bacon sandwiches. He settled for a couple of ones with single pieces of Ham and some sort of Cheese-like cheese. At the desk he paid for his fuel charge, the sandwiches, two coffees – Feldar could pay for his own and Beran’s – and a scratchcard to make him look like a normal motorist. He headed back out to the car, where Feldar was ready for him. Patcha had already taken up the passenger seat in Jones’ car and Corp wondered if she’d let the flustered looking Beran get out first. He handed her the coffee and a sandwich before starting on his own.
“None for us,” Adriette asked.
Corp indicated Feldar. “He get’s paid more than me. He can get yours.”
Feldar shrugged and slouched over to the shop.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Continue to write this for as long as you can! It is really good!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 42

Ten minutes passed after they’d made their approach plans and Karl had finished the sandwich whilst she was waiting for Jones and Beran to return from the restroom. “What’s keeping them,” she asked Corp irritably.
The Mican stepped around the cheese slice Karl had thrown to the floor and tapped his hand on top of the passenger roof above where the Wolf was sitting. “It’s quite difficult for him to get behind his own ears,” he reminded her. “Beran’s gotta help him with it.”
“Don’t get why he’s doing it anyway,” she snapped. “Seems a waste of time.”
Corp chuckled. “There aren’t many of them out here, Patcha. He’s hoping it’ll make at least one of them listen…”
The restroom door opened and Adriette Beran stepped out, Jones behind her, looking different. He wore his jacket tight around himself, completely closed in the heat. He also had gloves on. Basically he was completely enclosed with the exception of one area. His face. He’d shaved to expose his human facial features and skin, rendered a slightly off pink hue by lack of exposure and Beran had to slap his hand down as he moved to scratch at it. “Do you want to get a rash or something, boss?”
“I’m not totally sure that’s how it works, Adriette,” he announced, getting back in his car. “What,” he asked Patcha.
“Nothing, boss,” she replied as Beran got into the seat in Corp’s car and adjusted the seat slightly. The pair moved off and Corp followed.

A half hour later they pulled up near an isolated conference centre in the forests and found they could see a clutch of Sheriff’s vehicles and shuttles and a lot of people of various species arguing with the Mican in the Sheriff’s hat. Accusations of ‘stifling trade’ and ‘diplomatic immunities’ and ‘the colony will suffer if the meeting doesn’t go ahead’ filled the air as Jones opened the door.
“Trim, boss,” Karl warned and, looking in the mirrors, Jones saw that he already had a very thin line of Ginger fur coming back on his cheek. He plugged in the electric shaver and sliced the fur off again before getting out and walking up to the scene as the others held back. “Agent Jones,” he said aloud, holding up his identity card, “Agent in charge, Pandera IOC,” he added as eyes switched over to him. He saw the Sheriff give a sigh of relief and point him out as the one who could provide all the answers they were after and he suddenly found himself surrounded. “Now,” he shouted, trying to get their attention. It failed. They couldn’t hear him over their own voices until a new voice came through, clear as crystal.
“SHUT UP!!!” It roared and the noise dropped.
“Thank you, Corp,” Jones said, adjusting his jacket slightly. “I understand you all have concerns about what’s going on here, preventing you having the meeting, restraining trade and all that,” he said, looking the Human delegate in the eye. “Personally, I find it offensive you’ve side-stepped the Council but that’s by the by. I’m all for the meeting if it straightens out certain issues but it’s left us playing catch up against a group we’ve termed ‘the Division’. Some of you…” He raised his voice as they started talking again. “SOME of you will be aware of the theft of a substantial amount of Quadria Ore in the last ten days. As no-one thought to tell the Council that it was being transported, we were significantly behind in the investigations! We have found their refinery but e found it AFTER they’d refined it and had it shipped here! They plan to use it on a rather large target and, quite frankly, I can’t think of a bigger one than you lot, can you?” He held up a gloved hand. “Whatever we feel about you, we’re perfectly willing to let your meeting go ahead but we’d rather like you alive at the end of it. The Division don’t mind killing you.” he pointed to the Sheriff. “That’s why I want you lot to go with the Sheriff until the building is thoroughly checked.” More commotion.
“How do we know we can trust you,” a Canine called. “You could be attempting to sabotage the meeting.”
“You’re right,” Jones assented, “that’s why I’ve gone out of my way to tell you I’m supporting the meeting, isn’t it? To win you over.” He shrugged. “Once we get the signal blockers set up – to prevent people ‘dialling in’ the detonation code – my team are going in to check the centre out.”
“I’ll come with you,” A Human delegate. “I’m Garret Long, Secretary Peter’s security chief.”
“Armed, I take it?” Jones gestured. “Don’t show me if you are. I take it a lot of you secretaries have brought armed security.”
“It… seemed appropriate.”
“Fine,” Jones assented, “we’ll take a couple of guards in with us for transparency. The rest of you need to keep close to your people and, preferably, do it at the Sheriff station.” He waved his hands. “Do the local shops a favour and send out for food. Shop for clothes! Do whatever you want, but don’t do it here!”
“Why not?”
“Well, because this is a place impossible to defend and the Division seems to have a lot of people. There’s an Army group on the way but they’re still an hour out. This location is, until declared otherwise, compromised.” He looked the Human delegate in the eye. “Believe me, sir, I’m not kidding about the threat.”

With the groups heading out, Jones detailed Patcha to set up the two jammers in the woods to the back of the complex and she vanished into the trees with the two devices.
Sheriff didn’t seem happy,” Beran admitted, getting her light ready for use and clipping it under the barrel of her weapon.
“I’m not surprised,” Corp said drily. “If they don’t assault here, they’re going to assault her town now. We need to do this quickly.”
When Karl returned, Jones took Adriette and the Human security officer, leaving Karl and Corp with the Canine as they entered the complex.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Very wonderful job once again! I really am digging this story!

[Welsh Halfwit]

The trouble with writing a multi-team story is you have to try and write each team in established character but different from the other teams...

[Amazee Dayzee]

You seem to be doing pretty well at it. I hope you can keep it up!

[Welsh Halfwit]

Part 43

The door opened onto dark stairs and illuminated Corp Davidstow in silhouette at the top before he started heading down. “The cellar,” he intoned to the pair following him. “Good place to hide things, cellars.” He clicked the power on his light to maximum and swept the dusty floor with it’s glow as he stepped down into the depths.
“Sir,” the Canine, whose name, Corp had learned, was Dreyfus, “shouldn’t we turn the lights on?”
“We can’t,” Corp advised, raising his scanner, “for all we know it’s down here and linked up to the light switch.” He stepped down onto the floor after checking it was clear. He scoped over the shelves and goods as he went carefully through the basement. “Check that section over there,” he told Karl and she slipped from hs beam of light and into the darkness. “And turn your torch on,” he hissed to her. He heard a grumble and a third beam of light cut into the room as the Canine made his way to Corp’s shoulder.
“She doesn’t use lights,” he asked.
“She reckons it makes the hunt harder if the prey can see you. She only uses them in times like this so we can find her.”
“Sounds an odd thing,” Dreyfus opined.
“She’s a pro,” Corp admitted, “but she’s a Wolf too.”
“Who has great ears,” a voice said from the other side of the room.

Jones, Beran and Poole entered the rooms above the conference centre, looking in on offices and staff rooms that provided the same metal frame, plastic covered pulp chairs underneath them. Jones had the scanner in hand, checking for the energy traces the ore was supposed to give off. It wasn’t registering but they didn’t know how close they had to get so they were checking everywhere. Beran headed over to the far corner of the room whilst Jones and Poole worked the near side, looking under tables and behind cabinets. Jones scanned near the floor, kneeling to get as low as he could. “Can you check the air vents,” he asked Poole.
The Human looked up to where the vent was and pulled a chair over to to stand on. He shone his torch in and waved the light around. “We sorted security before we got here, Agent Jones,” Poole announced. “Everything was set up, even down to the teleport scramblers. “Oh, I can’t see anything, Agent Jones,” he added, “and you didn’t need to shave, by the way.”
“Good. That’s…” Feldar looked up after establishing that this section of floor had no bombs in it.
Poole smirked. “You thought that we wouldn’t know about the IOC Agents on this planet, sir? I DID do my research, you know?”
“Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time,” Feldar said defensively. “To get at least one of the delegates on my side.”
Now Poole laughed a short laugh. “Probably worked with him, He barely glanced at the files.”
“Not his job,” Feldar guessed, standing up. “You know, I’m beginning to think some longer game is at play here. We’ve searched all of this level and found nothing. And the conference centre’s been checked as well.”
“Yeah,” the Human agreed. “How did you find out about this anyhow?”
Feldar checked another table before answering. “A ‘reliable’ source told us,” he confided. “The sort where we know the individual’s spinning it for his benefit but we can’t fig…” Feldar paused as a thought came to him. “Where’s the Lappenean delegate to this meeting? I didn’t notice one outside.”
“There isn’t one,” Poole replied. “They were supposed to be here but pulled out of the meeting last week. Apparently their commerce secretary is ill or something.”
Feldar slapped his hands down onto the table and swore. “That crafty bloody…” The sound of clattering furniture pulled their attention as Beran called out.
“Sorry,” she called, “just a slip up. No harm done.” She picked up the fallen chair and set it right before rejoining them. “What were you talking about?”
Feldar sighed. “The lack of Rabbits, Adriette. The Lappineans pulled out last week.”
“But that means…”
“Yeah,” Feldar nodded. “He’s used us as a Chess piece.” He looked to the pure Human. “You’ve heard of Balbury, the supposedly former head of Lappinean Intelligence?”

Above the planet, Rhew and Postain watched the scene from the bridge. “Time ticks by,” Postain remarked quietly, almost thinking his voice would sound through the void and alert the Lappinean ship to their presence. He’d worried about even being here, visible to sensors. He knew he had to deal with this ship at some point, whether that was now or later. The Quadria ensured the hunt had to continue until confrontation and… “Picking up something,” Maldak called suddenly, a few seconds before a dark grey figure cut between the ship and the lights behind it.

“Found something,” Karl said, pointing her beam at a machine that had been emitting a how hum in a side room. Corp and Dreyfus made their way across to join her and looked it up and down. “What do you reckon it is,” Karl asked.
“I know exactly what it is,” Corp said starkly, enjoying the feeling of the light casting him into darkness.
“Gonna tell us,” Karl asked.
Corp nodded. “Some time back, in my Army days, I was involved in an operation on a moon with certain ores on it that scrambled teleport signals until a booster like this got installed. Then we were able to send troops and munitions down safely. This thing means they could teleport the bomb in a moment or so before detonation.”
“So we’re in the wrong place?” Karl asked, “The bomb’s not here?”
“No,” Corp said, “but it could be…” He paused as the noise the transport booster was making changed pith. “Me and my big mouth! Out! Run!” He pushed Karl and Dreyfus ahead of himself as he tapped his comm. “Corp to Jones!”
<”Jones here.”>
“Get out,” he called, running up the stairs as best he was able,. “The bomb’s being teleported in and it’s coming now!”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Another really magnificent chapter! You really are doing a great job at writing this!

[Welsh Halfwit]

There hve to be some benefits to being part human...

Part 44

Rhew had the feeling of the final battle approaching and wondered if there needed to be some sort of ominous ‘battle music’ playing as the Rodomont came at the Lappinean warship from what aviators would call Eleven O'clock high. The Hota had surprised them by jumping to the very edge of the atmosphere and starting the immediate transport to the surface but that surprise was over now and they were taking the front foot. They’d been weapons ready and shields up for the past half hour and the fighters were ready to launch. “They’re spooling to run,” Levan commented from sciences.
“Like heck,” Postain complained. “Target the engines and fire!” He didn’t need to say much else as the gunners fired, the ship’s powerful forward cannons blitzing the near space between the vessels and cracking the shields. “I think that got their attention. Launch the fighters, by the way,” he added as the Hota began returning fire, impacting the lower front shields.

Pascal’s fighter was the first out of the launch bay and he wheeled to the attack. He almost didn’t have time to brief his pilots, the ships were so close together. It was pretty much launch and go straight into an attack run on the ship below. He headed for the engines as the main ships fired at each other. He started as a familiar voice came over his comms. “Senny,” he asked bitterly, “what are YOU doing..?”
<“I’m saving your life, Pascal,”> Senny called from the flight deck observation area. <“That is a Lappinean heavy! Rabbit’s always protect their engines with anti fighter weaponry! You get past their shields and you’ll face about ten anti fighter weapons back there! You’ll be torn apart! The armour on the sides of the ship is your best hope to penetrate.”>
Pascal supposed she might have a point. Of all the things he’d trained to fight against, it had been some time since they’d simulated a Rabbit craft. She’d been used to not quite knowing what she was up against so… He wheeled sideways as one of the anti fighter weapons she’d just been telling him about opened up. The warning had him twisting so the first bolt only scorched the underside of his fighter. “Leave the engines to the main ship,” he told his pilots, “run down the sides!”

“Someone schedule more drills against Lappinean ships,” Postain grumbled, “and send a guard down to watch that Pirate!”
Rhew gestured to Maldak, who relayed the order to the security chief.
“They’re dropping shields,” Levan noted, holding to his console as the Hota scored more hits. “Raising them again,” he said, several second later, after the Rodomont had scored several hits to her rear, knocking two of her four main engines out temporarily. “What was that about,” he asked, before being knocked off his feet by an impact.
“They engaged their teleporters again,” Maldak called.
“For what,” Postain asked.
“Unknown,” Maldak replied, “but they sent a LOT of signals!”
Postain smirked. So, the Rabbit had been right.

On the surface, the doors to the conference centre had been thrown open a few minutes previously as the two IOC search teams ran, hell for leather, from the main building and keeping going as they sped past the few remaining people hanging around, who finally got the hint and followed them before the earth beneath them shook and roared. Corp found himself racing the ground as it cracked beneath his feet and he’d have slipped back into the rapidly burgeoning hole if Karl hadn’t grabbed his hand and pulled him onto her back before putting on speed and overtaking Beran and Jones, even with her ‘satchel’. The sound blocked their hearing as they dove for a downward incline, rolling and falling down through the protection as the debris rained down around them, cracking through trees and the top layers of ground as the wind blew. Poole fell with a branch landing on his head as Corp kept himself tight to the bank as Karl held her ears against the volume after the ground had screamed. Corp couldn’t hear either but he tried to ascertain the situation. He could feel his leg again, but that could be phantom pain. His torso seemed fine and his arms obviously worked so he staggered over to Poole and did his best to see if the Human was still alive. He didn’t think so, after cursory checks, but he was in no way certain. He pulled himself over to Karl and gripped her arms to make her focus on him. “ARE YOU ALL RIGHT,” he yelled to her face.
“WHAT?”
“NEVER MIND!”
Karl shook her head. “CHECK BERAN,” she yelled, woozily heading over to Jones, limping on a fractured leg.

Jones was standing there, his face scratched and ripped from the fall but, seemingly, otherwise unharmed. “YOU OK,” she slurred to him.
He frowned at her before replying silently. He put his hands to his human style ears and pulled out two off-white plugs. “Fine,” he said and, if she focussed, she found she could almost hear him, although she might be assigning a memory of his voice to the word. He looked her over and made her sit as he saw Corp checking over Adriette. His hands stained with red. He crossed over to them and took Corp’s arm to get his attention. He used military hand signs to indicate that he’d call for medical attention from the top of the ridge and he’d alert the others that the team was down for the moment. He pulled his aching frame up the slope, Dreyfus giving him a helping hand.

In the nearby town, the Sheriff got the delegates into her little office and the surrounding deputies complex despite all their concerns and complaints. The shaking underfoot as the blast ripped through the air stunned them into silence for a moment and one even removed her hat in memorial to those who had obviously just been lost. They actually understood they were in danger, a feeling only added to as figures began shimmering into view on the street outside. A vehicle passed and the arriving troops fired on it, devastating a family with fire as the Sheriff prepared her defences and got the delegates to the cells as the attack began.