U.S.C. SAVVAL - The path of the ooze.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Hope that Balbury gets his just desserts for doing this. And I DON'T mean the good kind either.

[Welsh Halfwit]

THIRTY-ONE

The shuttle touched down at the main U.S.C. spaceport on Lappara under yellow alert conditions, where the base had energy shields extending straight up some one hundred and fifty yards from each corner of the complex as it nestled in the middle of a town complex in the suburbs of Lapas City This meant the shuttle from the Savval had to descend practically straight down from above, a complex landing scenario involving no forward propulsion and vertical boosts to stop the ship dropping like a rock. Cheyla Cheel, Raitchian in need of a bank account, was almost an expert in the situation and Minika hadn’t felt like throwing up as she had on the ‘tower drop’ ride at Lavarna’s Theme Park fifteen years ago, covering Aunt Gwen in something that wasn’t glory. Minika observed the Raitchian closely and considered how she wasn’t quite acting like a Raitchian. She’d been in there when the Rodent had seen the Captain and told her of the plot to steal the ooze by buying it and she’d wondered about a Raitchian not wanting funds. Perhaps it had to do with her living in a post scarcity environment like the U.S.C.? She was paid, she didn’t have to pay rent, she didn’t have to buy food or provisions or even most goods if she didn’t want to. Was getting everything you needed enough to change a persons’ conscience and personality? Was hers changing in the same way? She wasn’t sure if she was happy about that. And she wasn’t quite sure if that was because her personality HAD changed or because it HADN’T. Hayley, sat next to her was jittering slightly and Minika wondered if it was nerves or simply the low quality of Coffee she’d had over the last few days. Minika thought she’d need to take her to Kallabucks on Grace Avenue before they headed in for debrief.


Agent Andros stepped forward as the shuttle thrusters stopped blowing sand and debris around and waited for the door to open. He’d expected a Raitchian Female and a Lappinean so the Raitchian who pushed her way out first wasn’t entirely a surprise but the fact she was pursued by a Mican kind of was. He stepped forward. “Agent Rogan,” he asked.

“Huh,” the Raitchian asked, a little confused. “Uh, no, I’m Ensign Cheel. Got a twelve hour pass.”

“Same here,” Flass replied. “We’re travelling together,” she added in a tone that told Andros this was true and wasn’t Cheel’s idea. “Anywhere near we can rent a car,” she added. Andros pointed her to the Quartermaster’s station and the pair stood aside as a slender Lappinean and a slightly more officious looking Raitchian than Cheel stepped out of the shuttle.

The Raitchian stepped forward. “You must be Agent Andros,” Hayley said, stepping forward to shake his hand. “It’s the lack of ears that’s the giveaway,” she joked, guessing on the response he’d not been going to give. “I’m Agent Rogan, this is Agent Charles…”

“Known as Minika to all my friends,” Minika added, cutting in to take the Human’s hand in both of hers.

“And she makes friends very easily,” Andros heard the other Raitchian mutter to the Mican.

“Agent Anthony Andros,” he replied simply.

“Has there been any news of Agent Straw,” Hayley asked as Cheel closed and locked the shuttle so they could head off to the quartermaster’s office.

“Nothing as of yet,” Andros admitted, leading the way to his vehicle. “I can tell you more about that on the way to IOC where we’re heading up both investigations.”

“We’ll need to stop at a good coffee place on the way in,” Minika mentioned lightly. “You can see Agent Rogan’s on a coffee crash due to bad replication system coffee. We need to change that. I understand Kallabucks has a drive in close by?” She slotted herself into the back seat and closed the door beside her as the Human put their luggage in the boot and got into the driving seat, jiggling the pine tree deodoriser attached to the dash before Hayley helped herself to the passenger seat.

“That’s one of the most expensive brands…” Andros started.

“Don’t worry about that,” Minika interrupted, “I’ll pay.”


Balbury washed his hands before stepping in on Straw’s efforts. “We have new information,” he told the agent. “They’re gearing up to move the chemicals out in a day or so.”

Straw looked up at him languidly. “I don’t want to know how you know that, do I?”

“Probably not,” the eldster replied, walking around the table. “They’re not equipped to ship things out like this so they’re hiring from a local company.”

“I don’t know why you’re telling me this,” Straw stated, feeling that he didn’t really want to know.

“Well, that’s because I haven’t told you yet,” Balbury snapped. “I can lay everything outbut that would only prove I was wrong about your intelligence and should have left you to die on that ledge! It is time for you to experience an almost religious resurrection.”

“Why so,” Straw asked, almost interested.

“Because the calibre of people I have available to me right now do not include anyone with any acting talent, Mister Straw! I can put an assault team in the trucks but that won’t matter at all if the driver can’t get past the front gate!”


Stuck in a chair as she worked on her recovery, Darielle was in no position to take over the lead in engineering from the Golden furred Evals and he was quite happy about that, letting the Dacan see his chest muscles move under the fur as he stretched up to fix a fault in the ceiling. The darker toned Canine had an idea as to what the problem was but she knew better than to try to contradict a Chief Engineer when they were at work. Besides which, after several months of being surronded by a hundred Raitchians, she was quite enjoying the show. And the look of his slightly lank and extended head fur. “Or it might be,” he said, going on to say something that indicated he was now complying with her unspoken thoughts on the subject. He asked for a tool and she put the correct one in his open hand from the toolkit on her lap. She wanted to be back in a kitchen. But they didn’t have one on this ship – or the other one – so she was just looking to be useful

“Why,” Grovan asked as he stepped into the room, “are you out of uniform, Evals?”

The floppy eared Canine jumped slightly on hearing the voice and lowered himself out of the ceiling and off the stepladder, showing his wet and stained hands. “Leak in the fluid links,” he explained. I didn’t want to get the top stained, sir. I only have the one.”

“Understood,” Grovan said, turning before stopping. “You only have ONE jacket? Requisition three for yourself from Lappara USC immediately.” He walked away so only his voice carried back. “And BURN the one you’ve got!”

Evals and Darielle laughed happily.

[Amazee Dayzee]

This was a really nice chapter to read! Keep it up!

[Welsh Halfwit]

THIRTY-TWO

Hawthorne lay back on her bed and thought over the last hour or so in her mind. Cheel had come to her shortly before leaving in the shuttle and shown her the mail she’d gotten from the mystery group. She had to decide what to do about this. Perhaps she’d consult with Jak about it. Organise an ambush or something. Then there was Cheel herself. She seemed to have all the legal documents of ownership for everything she’d stashed in the hold and claimed to have everything in hand with the storage facility and auction house here. The escort to the chemical destruction station was a day out and Agent Straw was still missing so the IOC agents had left to assist the search. Denver was in charge for now. And she had nothing to do. She wondered if she should spend some time down in the lab or assisting Durness in her work? The only problem, Hawthorne thought, in assambling a group of people smarter than you were is the simple fact that they didn’t actually need your help in the day to day things. She couldn’t leave the ship right now either. So she had been making calls and watching vids. An old, Lappinean, soap opera that she’d watched as a kit that barely held her attention now, save for the fact they had a Varkonian crossbreed in the cast now, her scales prominent in places amongst her fur. It made her think and she commed Durness.

<“Hurr, Durness here, Commander, heh,”> the Mican replied.

“Professor,” Hawthorne asked, “I’m watching ‘Applean Close and I was just wondering…”

<“About the Varkonian crossbreed? Hybrids are always possible in the next generation, Hawthorne. With or without medication. It’s just rare without medication. I read Calter Rynn’s book about growing up in the Varkonian ‘camp’. They didn’t have much to do. Hurr, So ‘practice’ was done many thousands of time, Commander., heh”> Not always consensual, she didn’t say. <“Indeed, there’s traces of Varkonian DNA in the serum, I think. They do seem to be… generally compatible.”>

“Of course. Thank you, Professor. I was just checking.”

<“More than likely you’re bored, heh?”> The link cut off as soon as she’d finished, intending to leave it as a rhetorical question. There was truth to…

Her comm beeped and told her it was Denver calling. She activated it. “What’s the matter, Colin,” she asked.

<“Nothing, Captain,”> he replied with that tingly voice of his. She’d have to call Dale later. <“I just thought you’d like to be warned that I’m transferring a call up to you now.”> She could swear she could hear him smile. <“It’s your mother.”>

Hawthorne groaned and told him to send the call up.


With Flass a step behind her, Cheel found she enjoyed the fresh air of the storage facility’s courtyard. The Council had rented them a non descript little beetleabout car that wouldn’t attract any attention whatsoever in its total middle of the road nature and it had set her at a disadvantage that she’d had to work to overcome. And Flass had insisted on driving, saying Cheel always drove on the ship so it was only fair. The Lappinean in charge hadn’t so much looked down his muzzle at the pair of them but delegated someone else to do it until he found out exactly what they’d planned to store. Then he’d slipped back into the sale so he got the commission, which Cheel wasn’t of a mind to give him. Still, the courtyard where they were discussing things was nice. “Autmanna Auctions,” Cheel told him, in response to the question of who’d recommended them. “They claim you’re reliable and send work your way?”

Flass mused that this was probably because the Lappinean in front of them was related to one of the Auction managers. A lot of them were, she reckoned. But she worked with it.

“Of course,” the Lappinean nodded. “We hold on to a lot of properties for them. Until they’re sold of course.”

“Of course,” she replied, smiling falsely at the not-a-joke. “And, if we do agree to hold things here…” Her lightness dropped slightly. “How much commission will you be giving Garin? I mean, he made the sale, you just steamed in at the end so I think he deserves half of it, wouldn’t you say?” She cocked her head at him.

“That… that isn’t how it works…”

“It is in this case,” Cheel replied sweetly. “Or there’s no sale. We’ve got others on the list, haven’t we,” she asked Flass.

Flass checked the list. “Oh, at least three,” she lied, seeing only one on the list. “Next is Kaynar and Wich.”

“I...I...I...um… We can do something about it,” he replied, moving his hands with nerves and a hint of desperation .

“Let’s go sort it out over by the desk,” Cheel told him, standing up. “By where there are people. Ooh, including Garin!”

Chuckling to herself, Flass led the way.


Ten minutes later, after a five precent commission for Garin, the deal was made and the pair found themselves at a nearby cafe, sitting with two artisan Coffees, ironically made by a company called Delmundor, based on Pandera. In the patch. A taste of home, Flass reckoned. “How am I thinking of the Patch as home,” she asked, fingering the cup carefully.

“It’s where we’ve gotten used to,” Cheel replied. “And we quite like it, eh?”

“There’s an element of truth about that,” Flass replied. “And you get to trust people you know. And distrust smooth talking bar…”

“Steward,” Cheel remarked, drawing the attention of the waitress, who stomped over and complained she wasn’t a steward. “I know, but I needed to make the joke,” Cheel advised, not referring to the children behind Flass, who’s ears had been turning towards their conversation. “Two pieces of Bakkaberry pie, please,” she said, adding to the order. “You’re paying,” she added, nodding to Flass. “And telling me why you insisted on this coffee shop after we sorted out the storage,” she continued after the waitress had left.

“Just a thought,” Flass told her. “What if you were to tell the people who mailed you this morning that you’d arranged for some of the ooze to be held here?”

Cheel pointed a finger at her and prepared to lecture her colleague, then thought of something. “Who told you I’d been mailed?”

Flass sipped her drink. “Galton got one,” she said quietly, referring to the Raitchian in her security team. “He told me. And, if he got one, it was obvious you were going to get one...”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Was wondering when the next installment would be up! Then again, I forget you don't do any weekend posts. That's my bad. LOL

[Welsh Halfwit]

THIRTY-THREE

Minika sat back and accepted her high class salad as Hayley took a draught of her extra large coffee and Andros glanced uncertainly at the prices as they sat at the table in the upper class fast food restaurant. Hayley was ready to start on her burger, made in the meat kitchen and brought through in its own protective box to help the servers who might not be able to handle the meat enzymes safely and it looked to be about thirty credits. Andros figured that would pay for his daily food budget if he was buying three meals a day. “Are you ordering,” Minika asked him, before tapping him on the hand with a menu. “or are you being noble and trying to save me a few credits? It’s not needed, you know? Go ahead. Order anything. Except the steak,” she added. “That one’s a bit too much.” She gave him her nicest smile, which had Hayley kicking her under the table to stop trying to seduce him. Andros ordered something that reminded him of Swedish Meatballs and wondered why the guest was being so generous. “Ah, I’m just happy to be back on Lappara,” she admitted. Hayley didn’t believe her. At least, not totally. “You just can’t get a great salad on Raitche. Too moist.”

“And you won’t let me use the dehumidifier in the crisper,” Hayley pointed out.

“So what’s the latest on Agent Straw,” Minika asked whilst they waited on the meatballs.

The Human looked around to see if anyone else was listening before he leaned in. “He’s still investigating MutaraChem,” he said in a low tone. He’s particularly interested in one Marikash Soran.” He fell silent again as the meatballs arrived and the gloved waitress pushed the plate onto the tabe. “If I’m ever here again,” he told her cheerily, “I’ll have to order the salad.”

She laughed politely. “Is this a line about seeing more of me,” she asked, tapping gloved fingers together whilst grinning.

“Would I do something like that,” he asked with exaggerated innocence.

She tapped him on the nose with a gloved finger. “Someone usually does, hon.”

“Any of them work?”

She sighed. “One will one day.” She cocked her head. “Maybe when you order that salad?” She grinned and walked away.

“Is flirting contagious on this planet,” Hayley asked.

“It’s heading to Autumn,” Minika explained at length. “The best time to have kits is in Spring so they’re stronger for their first winter so that means…”

“Oh, I get it. Natural dri…” Hayley paused. “I thought that happened in the spring?”

“Common misconception,” Minika conceded, looking at the picture of Soran that Andros had pushed over. “Hey, Hayley..?” She showed the picture to her friend. “What does this look like?”

Hayley grimaced. “They’ve used the ooze.”

Andros stared. “The what?”



“Are you sure you’re serious about this,” Hawthorne asked as she examined the map of the storage facility on the screen whilst Flass’ voice came from the comm down on the planet. From the looks of it the Mican was in a public library, judging by the vidslugs and other paraphernalia behind her when the call had started. And the fact she was talking quietly.

<“Absolutely, Captain,”> she replied. <“After all, Cheyla’s bought it legitimately, hasn’t she? It’s all on record. It would be quite easy to add something to those holdings and send that down. Then they just have to sort things out from there. After she tells them it’s there, of course.”> Something loud and discordant sounded over the comm. A sucking sound that had Hawthorne ask about it as she didn’t change the picture over. <“She’s drinking a slushie,”> Flass remarked.

<“Heya, boss,”> Cheel said, able to hear Hawthorne’s reply over the vidlink as the Captain changed the view to see them.

“Hello, Cheel,” Hawthorne replied, having spotted the slushie the Raitchian was drinking was from a caffeinated brand. A highly caffeinated brand. Flass was in for a busy night, she thought. “Don’t drink any more of those,” she advised, before telling them why. Flass facedesked.


Twenty minutes later, Hawthorne found herself in engineering, talking to Eckersley about the situation. At least in part. “You want me to what,” the Human asked his Captain as they sat next to his Engineering control station.

“We need something that’s hard to analyse with handheld sensors and scanners, Ecks,” Hawthorne told him. “And we need a fair bit of it. A quarter of a barrel, say.”

“Yes, you said that,” the Engineer reminded her. “But you’ve not said what for?”

Hawthorne leaned on the console. “I’m the Captain, Chief, I don’t HAVE to say what for. I need to know if you can…”

Eckersley sat forward. “Yeah, we have something,” he said. “The main engines aren’t 100% clean. They have a discharge leak. It’s a wild collation of everything that goes in and we clean it off every day or so.”

“How come I don’t hear of this,” Hawthorne asked. “Should we get it repaired?”

Eckersley chuckled slightly, turning up his lip. “Nah. It’s nothing to be concerned about. Happens with all engines considering the mix of lubricants. And we don’t advertise we need a cleaner. Mostly it goes in the reclamation machine but we can collect it up for you. Give me a few hours and I should be able to scrounge up… Five litres? Will that be enough to con them?”

“Con who,” Hawthorne asked innocently. He wasn’t fooled.

“Whoever it was contacted half the Raitchians on the ship, offering them cash for that thing we’re carrying. I think they’ve underestimated the loyalty of our guys, don’t you?” He fingerwaved to the Raitchian he’d gotten engaged to a month or so back and Sonia waved back. “I knew Cheel would tell you, of course.”

“Oh, thanks for thinking of me,” Hawthorne replied, wondering if anyone was ever going to respect her as they did other Captains.

“Oh, I’d have told you two hours ago, Captain. But I saw Cheel going into your quarters with a concerned look so figured it out.

“Nice. Get it sorted.” She sighed. “I’d prefer more but I suppose a few litres is more easily smuggled out.”

“It’ll be ready.”

“Good.” Hawthorne headed out. Now she just had to tell Jak and Grovan.

[Amazee Dayzee]

This was a really good chapter! I can't wait to see what happens next!

[Welsh Halfwit]

THIRTY-FOUR


“He’s taking his time, isn’t he,” Hayley asked as she came to the end of her food and kissed her finger claws. “I mean, you signalled him at least half an hour ago. I’ve had coffee now, Minika, my brain’s working.”

“I have no clue what you mean, Hayley,” the Lappinean protested, unable to keep her face straight as she put a hand to her chest.

“Heart’s on the other side, Minika,” Hayley observed.

Andros looked between the two of them, as though trying to figure out which of them was most insane. “What are the pair of you on about? Who’s coming?”

“I know it is, Hayles. I’m having fun.”

“You have salad in your teeth.”

“Excuse me,” Andros demanded.

“Why,” Minika asked, “what have you done? Oh, right. You mean who’s coming and how did I signal them?” She leaned over the table. “Why do you think I paid, hmm?” She gave him a bright smile and tapped his hand with hers. “This person knew I was coming.”

Andros sat back and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. “Dios mio, the credit chit! I take it they got the address from there and you’re expecting us to be joined by two rather strict looking Lappineans in suits?”

“Well, the in suits part is up for debate,” Minika asked, before twigging Anthony meant the two that had just entered the restaurant and were making their way over to the group. “Shuffle up, Hayley,” she advised, “and put your tail between your legs. Evening, Uncle Devan,” she said to a Lappinean who looked too much of her own age to be an Uncle, as he pushed in besides Hayley.

His compatriot, a rather more muscled creature struggling not to break shirt buttons, settled in beside Andros. He turned to look down at the Human. “We’re here to escort you somewhere, mate,” he said, using the British definition of mate, according to his accent, which was strangely Home Counties to Andros’ ear. “Not gonna have a problem, are we?”

Andros took his hand away from his pocketed firearm and helb both hands above the table. “No, no, no,” he assured.

“Good.” He picked up the menu. “Anything decent on here that I can afford?”

“Evening, Minika,” Devan said, offering Hayley a hand. “And I’m no more her uncle than I am her brother. It’s clan family.”

“This is Hayley,” Minika observed. “A loyal Raitchian, one of my best friends and available for the next few nights if you’re interested.”

Devan couldn’t help but notice Hayley’s hand had gotten considerably tighter when Minika had said that. “You must be one of her friends,” he told Hayley. “She’d never say that for anyone normal.” He released the hand. “Brutus, you can order anything in the cheaper half of the menu but make it to go.”

“I...I…” Hayley forced herself to focus against the soft, warm, sweet seeming pleasure of the hand. She swallowed as she heard Minika snickering quietly behind her. “I, um, kind of have a boyfriend… on Raitche and… Really,” she asked, “Brutus?”

The muscles grunted at her. “You’d prefer Clover?”

“Naw, naw, I…”

“So, where’s Uncle Keldar,” Minika interrupted.

“Waiting on us.” He smiled up at the same waitress that had served the group earlier. “One vegalliburger for me and…” He looked across to Brutus, who gave his order. “...One of those for him. And your comm number in my dreams?”

The waitress pointed to Andros. “He’s got a chance. Lots more than you do with a line like that.” She sauntered off as the pair looked at Andros.

“Well, I did promise to return for a salad,” he said hopelessly.

Fifteen minutes saw them on the road again, Minika in with Devan, with Hayley in the back seat, doing her best not to ask if they were there yet. Brutus was stuffed into Andros’ car, having disabled the locator device and found the greengrass country music station on the in car system as he let Andros drive. “You’d be an idiot not to go back for that salad,” he told the Human, looking to keep up conversation as they drove, keeping in behind the other car.

Andros said nothing.

“Oh, c’mon, hume,” Brutus protested, “I told you, you’re safer without your gun in this! I’ll keep hold of it and return it to you safely when I’m told you can have it.”

“That’s a family heirloom,” Andros grumbled, “and it’s breakable. I don’t trust anyone with it.” He sighed and let out a little of his anger. “It’d be the same with anyone takes it. And I’m not fond of being shanghaied, either!”

“That mean something,” Brutus asked curiously.

“Kidnapped.”

“You’re NOT being kidnapped,” Brutus protested. “You’re simply being escorted towards the answers you were looking for. Kellan Straw’s waiting for you. I promise.”

Andros looked at him curiously before turning off the main road after the other car.


They approached a concrete bunker of a place behind slightly bashed and broken fencing and gates that opened as soon as the first car got close. Andros passed through and the gates closed behind. He could swear they were being watched as they manoeuvred down the drive. It looked as though other vehicles had used the drive recently. They pulled up in front of a small garage and Brutus told Andros to follow the others in. Andros mentioned that there wasn’t enough room but Brutus just told him that he’d see and split his face in a bright smile and had his eye sparkle. Andros did as bidden and was surprised to see they went at a downward angle to an underground parking complex with vans and cars and automated gun ports. They parked up next to a van and got out to rejoin the others. Minika straightened Andros’ shirt. “Best to be smart when you meet him,” she said as the group walked into the main complex. They could hear someone crying somewhere nearby. “I’ll ask about that later,” Minika told them.

“Just someone we needed to talk to before things escalate,” the elderly voice told them before the body that possessed it stepped around the corner.

Andros froze as the figure stepped forward and spread his arms for a hug from his niece. “Welcome back, Minika, my dear,” the elderly terrorist said as she enveloped him.

“Heya, Uncle Keldar,” she said, pulling Balbury off his feet.

[Amazee Dayzee]

This was a really great chapter! Nice job Welshy!

[Welsh Halfwit]

THIRTY-FIVE

The occupant sniffled and found she was nearly cried out in the darkness. She felt wretched. Shocked beyond belief and treated harshly by those under him when he wasn’t in the room. Her stomach hurt from the lack of food and the impact of fists and shock prods. She figured they’d avoided hitting her face because there was a chance they could dislodge those glasses she had to wear whilst they asked their incessant questions about who and what she knew and how her people might respond to her vanishing. She’d coughed that she was dispensable and things would probably go on without her. They’d threatened to carry out operations on her teeth and even started trying to extract one when the blurred one had entered and cracked one around the face with his cane saying they didn’t go in for any thing like that. She wasn’t convinced. They’d told her, they had. They’d told her one of the tactics of interrogation was for one to act like your friend, restraining the ones who wanted to cause you physical harm. So she’d still told him nothing beyond the very basics. He’d tried to persuade her to turn on her employer but she wasn’t able to tell him anything. She had nothing left to tell. Why wouldn’t he believe her? She’d flinched as he put a gentle hand to her jaw and turned her face towards his invisible one. ‘Because there’s always more to tell,’ he said. He might have frowned when she winced as she turned, feeling the wounds to her stomach. He’d put his hand down to her stomach now and she actively pulled back. ‘The low level persuasion techniques of the young leave much to be desired,’ he’d said, before leaving her in the dark. “Why can’t you let me go,” she’d wailed at the closing door. No-one replied.


The door opened and she sniffed again as a black silhouette appeared in the brightness, poking it’s head around the door. “So,” the voice said, in an accent that reminded her of Milos before his ‘accident’, “who’s in here then?” The stain in the light apparently saw her now. “Oh,” it said, moving into the room so the door shut behind her, “hello there.” She turned on the light and the Lappinean in the seat screwed her eyes tight shut as the sudden application of bright light burst on her retinas. “I was told I could handle the person in here,” the figure admitted, sounding like it was coming closer. Next to her, in fact. “We’re in a secret military base in the middle of no-where,” the voice confided, “and I’m told you’re just being held until after they’ve done whatever they need to do.” The creature put a hand to the side of Lydia Fallow’s muzzle and, with infinite gentleness, brought it around without making her flinch. “C’mon,” the voice said, “open them peepers, ducks.”


Feeling there was no choice, Lydia did as instructed and the world swam in her vision, eventually focussing on the yellow tinged front teeth of a Packer Raitchian female with pale front fur and darker tones to the back. This confused her. What was a Raitchian doing here? Was she looking for Milos? Investigating what had happened to him? Hadn’t the others told her? Was that an IOC badge? “I...I...O.C,” she asked.

“Nah,” Hayley smiled, “that’s me, sweetie, not you.” She put a hand on her chest. “I.O.C. Agent Hayley Rogan. You are?”

Lydia swallowed, looking to get some saliva working. “Lyd...Lydia Fallow. MutaraC...Chem researcher.”

The Raitchian hunkered down. “So that’s why the interrogation, eh? Asking you everything you know? And your throat’s dry, eh?” She used the key to unlock the cuff nearest her and reattached it to her own wrist. Lydia looked at her in confusion. “Just because you’re trapped in an enemy base doesn’t mean you can’t move around, eh?” Hayley held up the arm, dragging Lydia’s along with it. “Especially as you’re under my guard?” She got to work on the other cuffs, without attaching them to herself. “Canteen first, yeah? Get you some drink and food. C’mon,” she added, gesturing for Fallow to stand, which she did with some effort. She cried out as she felt the bones move in her hip and the bruising on her ribs. The Raitchian looked worried for her.

Lydia thought she liked this one more than the Lappineans she’d met today and waved a hand slightly as the Agent tried to figure out how she could support her when manacled to her. “I’ll… manage,” she said proudly but hoarsely, stepping uncertainly towards the door. Hayley walked with her, slowly and cautiously.


“That’s Agent Rogan distracted,” Balbury claimed as the pair emerged onto the security camera network. “I have nothing against her, of course, but she is neither Lappinean,” he continued as he turned in the office to look at Straw, Minika, Brutus and Devan before continuing for Andros’s benefit ,“nor living here. So this really is nothing to do with her. Let us construct what will happen in the morning.”


Hadrian Jak watched over Cheel as she set out her response to the proffered enquiry, couching it in as much mystery as she could and emphasising that she’d found a holding company that was keeping it for the next few days along with a few other things she wanted to sell. He wasn’t going to be directly involved in the sting as it wasn’t going to involve the real gel but he couldn’t help but feel Mitchumma was going to have his hands full when it happened and the balloon went up. But it didn’t hurt to let people think he was involved in the ambush, did it? Mitchumma was poring over the plans of the storage bay and decrying its lack of oxygen and sensor dampeners. “It’s almost like they’re trying to keep things secure,” Jak told the annoyed Celican.

“They’re security’s interfering with OUR security,” Mitchumma fumed.

“Well, we could sneak a camera with a signal booster into the shipment,” Chayla contributed.

Mitchumma half scowled at her, then relaxed. “We’re already sneaking a container of ooze-like crud into the shipment instead of a container of jewellery, Chayla. We can’t keep adding stuff. We’ll need to add a tracker to it…”

“Why don’t we just follow them,” Jak asked. “Watch who visits and tail them?”

“Because we might lose them,” Mitchumma ventured. “Catching them is somewhat important.”

Jak shrugged. “No, it isn’t. Look, we follow them, find the gang and beam in the troops. Gang rounded up. We follow them and they get away? They get a container full of engine goop. We’re not in a losing position here.”

Cheyla looked up at Mitchumma. “He has a point, Mitch.”

The Celican had to concede the point. Unhappily.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Would personally hate to be interrogated by those people. They really aren't screwing around.

[Welsh Halfwit]

And that's Balbury. Using someone he has no more need for to distract someone he doesn't want there.

[Amazee Dayzee]

At some point I really need him to experience what he puts others through. You know like karma. What goes around comes around.

[Welsh Halfwit]

THIRTY-SIX


Early morning refused to dawn completely as the drivers readied their allotted lorries at ‘Lapas Haulage’, ready to head out for the pick up at MutaraChem who were, as far as people knew, transferring components and chemicals to a new facility on the Colbrea Colony. They’d been told they needed to be in protective gloves and be careful handling the merchandise but had been assured that there was no real need to be concerned as Mutara would handle the loading themselves. They’d been told they needed to leave at four and be at Mutara by seven for a load and turnaround to get to the spaceport at midday. It was all legitimate, as far as they were concerned.


What probably wouldn’t turn out to be legitimate was the override Balbury’s agent in the company had put in that meant each of the lorries, except one, would suffer a minor electrical fault that would slow them down by at least twenty minutes on their way to Mutara. And then there was the fraudulent entry in the driver’s column. A fraudulent entry that was currently being assigned their place by the operations manager. “You handled a XZ15 before, Hey,” he asked the dark tan Lappinean as they made their way through to the truck cab.

“’S’in my résumé, Squire,” Straw answered, putting on a decent mid-Cantreyan accent as he fidgeted lightly with his sleeves, playing a driver from the back-up pool, a freelancer who often worked for smaller companies so wasn’t used to things covering his arms. In reality he’d done a few courses on these things, coming out in the middle of the pack. You never knew what you’d be needed to drive. Of course, he’d been covered on this. Backstopped. “My waddyamacallit..?”

“Licence,” the operations manager offered.

“Yeah, that. It’s all on that, yeah? So, just gotta follow the ‘nav?” He unlocked the driver’s door and started to climb up into the cab as the other four drivers idled, waiting for him to join the procession. “Or the guy in front?”

The Operations Manager laughed a short bark of a laugh. “And don’t fall off the mountain pass,” he advised. “Some guy did that few days back. Hear they’ve still not found his body.”

Straw forced himself to chuckle as he strapped in. “I hear that,” he groused, still feeling the damage to his ribs as the manager slammed the door shut.


Straw joined the procession heading out and wished he could have had his comms to keep him company but Balbury had been right about their security apparently having been told the drivers weren’t permitted any communications systems on this one. Probably something his insider had relayed. Or the prisoner he’d tortured. As it was, they had short range comms only. Truck to truck, and it was that he used to advise the lead that one of his warning lights was going off some half hour in. “Looks like a minor fault in the system,” he added. “Better stop and reboot.” And he’d stopped by turning the systems off and gliding into a layby whilst the others continued on, the leader probably raving at him.


As soon as the others had gone, a squad of about ten, clad in early morning green and brown camouflage, emerged from the nearest bushes and ran to the back, where the trailer gate was already lowering. One other, however, walked up to the cab and opened the passenger door. Clad in dungarees and a cheap shirt she might have borrowed from Hayley, Minika helped herself into the passenger seat and set aside a battered and worn fabric toolbelt. “How’d I look,” she asked, showing off that her teeth weren’t bright and shiny anymore thanks to a little swallow of treacle.

“Not grubby enough,” Straw replied. “Although I suppose that you didn’t need to do much to get this old girl running again, did you? Where’s Anthony?”

On overwatch,” Minika replied, strapping herself in as the fault miraculously corrected itself and the trailer door shut. “They might just spot a furless, earless, oddity in the cab.”

She grinned as she heard a response to that that Straw couldn’t.

He contacted the leader and stated the problem had been fixed. Loose gasket. “So you’ve got comms?” he asked after turning the short range off. “That’s going to help if they scan you.”

“Turnoffandonable,” Minika claimed, before patting down her sides. “Couple of weapons assemblable in pouches six and seven,” she added. “And of course they’re going to scan me.” She raised both eyeridges seductively. “Who wouldn’t?”

His hands tightened on the wheel as they pushed around a very familiar corner on the mountain road. The barrier had been repaired but there were still signs of the repairs and the remains of tyre debris on the road. “Anyone who knows who your uncle is,” he responded tightly. “Speaking of him, where is he?”

“Oh,” Minika waved, “retired from the field. He’s only involved in setting things in motion. He retires when things are in motion”

“How did one of his end up working for IOC?”

“A long story involving working for pirates and other legal stuff, Kellan.” She crossed her legs, something normally hard to do in a lorry seat. “It’s all complex, boring, and things I don’t want to think of right now?”

“Fair enough.” He paused as he spotted one of the other trucks having their own electrical fault by the side of the road. Unlike his, he knew this would take them about twenty minutes to sort out and he motioned for Minika to get her head down as they closed on the stalled vehicle.

“Hmm,” she said, doing as bidden so she couldn’t be seen from the road.

“First one down,” Straw said, taking them back out of sight. “And I only want to explain you once.”

“Not to your wife,” Minika asked playfully.

“Darn straight.”


Andros sat in his car, some half a mile from the MutaraChem complex and glanced at his ‘partner’, Brutus. “She’s gonna get them shot,” he advised.

“Minika can handle it,” the burly Rabbit replied. “She did a year undercover in a pirate clan. When she got out, she had to use project ‘reclaim’. Then she got positioned to Raitche IOC by giving them an ‘in’ with us.”

“She sold out Balbury?” Andros chuckled.

“He knew she would. She loves him and hates him. Same as a lot of us. How’d a Human end up on Lappara anyhow?”

“Went to see the universe,” Andros admitted. “Ended up in the IOC. Did work in the outer offices and a post on Lappara came up. Seemed a nice place to work.”

Brutus leaned back. “Oh, it is. You should see the Crystal waterfalls in Drinth. Or the Chita chasm in spring…” A grin. “Or anywhere with that waitress, eh?”

“Aw, gawd…”

“Hey,” Brutus shrugged, “I’m a Lappinean and, I have to say, I’d sniff around her burrow a few times…”

Andros laughed with embarrassment. “Oh, someone shoot me now…”


A half hour passed before ‘Hey’ and ‘Karrus’ got to the main gate.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I am getting the impression that Brutus is a massive horndog. I have to wonder how many times a woman he hit on hauled off and slapped him. XD

[Welsh Halfwit]

THIRTY-SEVEN

The early morning was when they arrived, a van load of them pulling up outside the storage facility as Flass and Cheel watched on from the nearest cover, six Lappineans making themselves known as the pair whispered to each other. “What do you reckon,” Flass asked Cheel, “they going to shoot their way in and blow the locks?”

“Nah,” Cheyla whispered back, “This mob ain’t tooled. Most they’ve got are slimlines. Cred gets you a centine they’ve paid someone off inside. It’s what I’d do… uh, if I were a criminal, of course.”

Flass grinned at her. “As opposed to merely being related to one?” She clapped her friend on the back to indicate she wasn’t serious as the receptionist came out. It had been fairly easy to slot the canister in, replete with markings, as an ‘unexpected extra’ that she’d asked them to hold for a night or two for special reasons. Normally, she wouldn’t have been so obvious but she figured it didn’t matter if it was the ones they were after who filched it or the staff themselves. They’d still get to nick someone. “Queen to tod,” she said, tapping her comm.

<“No need for callsigns, Cheel,”> Mitchumma whispered harshly, despite not being audible to anyone not on the team comm, <“and, if there were, those wouldn’t be them. Report?”>

“Got six pairs of ears heading into the storage facility.”

<“Right. We’ll be ready in five. Locking on for entry.”>

“Right ho. We’ll nab the car.” She cut the link and Flass began shifting, leading the way down the slope.


The lorry pulled up at the barrier and Straw put the window down so he could speak to the guard on the gate. “Here for the pick up,” ‘Hey’ said, passing his clipboard down to the guard.

“Where’s the other three,” the guard asked, checking the docket.

“Minor problems in the electrical system,” ‘Hey’ explained. “I ‘ad ‘em too but I ‘ad Sandra ‘ere.” He grinned. “Summat of an’ ‘lectrical engineer, she is. Sorted mine out in five.”

“Lucky for you,” the guard replied, before looking up and over at ‘Sandra’. She waved genially at him. “VERY lucky,” he corrected, looking things over. “Right,” he said, glancing at the passenger again as his scanners checked her. “this is, uh, in order. Head on to the main pick up bay. Bay Four. Follow the signs.”

“Right on, pal,” Straw replied, closing the door as soon as the guard was free. He drove around to the back of the complex, heading for the advertised bay. He reckoned they’d get there about the same time as the others got to the front gate at this speed. “Hope I don’t meet anyone who knows me,” Straw opined.

“Who’d know you,” Minika asked.

“Well, the person who showed me around when I came to check the employee records,” Straw reminded her. “And the person who tried to kill me.”

“Assuming they’re not one and the same,” Minika reassured him.

“Thanks for that,” Straw remarked, pulling up to the nearest shutters in bay 4.


There was a female Lappinean orchestrating the guards and workers in the bay and she stood out amongst the group as she was the one wearing a long length coat. She was also the one letting the phlegm fly as she dressed down the large set Lappinean male in the hard hat who was, ostensiblyin charge of the others. She stormed up to the drivers’ door before Straw could open it. He knew who she was now, like he hadn’t when she showed him around a few day prior. This was Petunia Marwick, daughter of the banned Professor and follower of his work. It wasn’t like she’d really seen him that day, was it..? “You done dithering,” she demanded, looking him in the eye. “With your friends being late, we’ll just have to start with you, won’t we? Well,” she continued, not letting him get a word in edgeways.

“As ya say, ma’am,” he replied, positioning the trailer correctly for pick up as she stared at him.

“Have we met,” she asked, curiously.

“Ya been to the night clubs in Geltin,” Straw asked, thinking on his feet as he reached for the rear door release.

“No… Agent Straw,” she said, backing away quickly as the end went up and several armed and armoured Lappinean troops stormed, firing, into the scene.


At least this room had a bed, she thought, sitting on it. It didn’t have much of anything else but there was a toilet in the one corner and a bed in this corner. It was thin and badly sprung and didn’t have any sort of duvet but it could take her weight. So she sat on it and wondered where that nice Raitchian was. She’d gone to get something from the kitchen and hadn’t gotten back yet. The door opened and the figure without a face came in. “It’s good that you’ve stopped trying to take those off, young lady,” he said, indicating the glasses that wouldn’t come off no matter how she tried. “They’re locked to your DNA until I decide otherwise. They simply won’t come off.” He stepped in closer. “I imagine you’re wondering what I intend to do with you, hmm?”

She nodded, fearing the worst as he adjusted his grip on his cane.

“Well, I had to wonder myself,” he continued, “the result of which is to lock Agent Rogan in the kitchen for a short while. Everything I do has been for the betterment of the Lappinean race, girl,” he continued, his tone tightening, “whereas YOU have been involved in something that could, quite possibly, spell the end of that race, do you see?” He waved a hand. “I know,” he grumbled. “You were looking for an equal life for all the races. Your own version of Universal peace.” He stopped and turned his faceless head towards her. “Essentially genocide for the benefit of all. I’ve done it myself, of course. But nothing on this scale. Everything points to you being a traitor to our race, young lady.” He leaned on the cane. “And I should not suffer a traitor to live. Should I?” She knew he was smiling. She just knew it. He pressed a button.


She couldn’t move. Her body, stiff as a board, refused to accept any of the instructions her brain was sending as the eldster walked forward. Her eyes couldn’t close. Couldn’t look away as he stepped towards her, drawing a large syringe out and inserting it painfully into her neck. She couldn’t gasp out. She couldn’t do anything, even bend her ears. Her heart was going ten to the dozen. She was waiting for the heart to shut down as he stepped away. At least her bowels had locked up too.

“The glasses work both ways, of course,” the blur said. “The lock will pass. The genetic tracker won’t. I’ll be able to find you anywhere in Council space now, dear girl. Because I am content to let you leave with the IOC. Killing you would only lose me any headway I’ve made with these agents. MutaraChem is about to fall, child. But your qualifications will see you get employment somewhere similar. So,” he added darkly, “I’ll have you in place if anyone tries something like this again. You to tell me – or whoever follows me – what people are planning. In full knowledge that, if you don’t, you and your children will be killed in most horrible and painful ways.” He waved a hand at the look in her eyes. “It’s not something that would be done easily,” he assured her. “So don’t make me. You’ll be contacted soon enough.” With that he walked out, leaving her trapped in place for several minutes, letting her free a moment before Hayley returned.

“I got locked in the kitchen,” the Raitchian told her, putting a plate of food next to the Lappinean. Before sitting. “If one of the guards hadn’t heard me… Hey,” she asked as Lydia turned, grasped her friend and cried into her shoulder.

[Amazee Dayzee]

That elder Lappinean definitely sounds like a complete and totaly NUT BAR with what he did near the end them. Hopefully he won't come across anybody else and try to threaten them with a painful death!

[Welsh Halfwit]

You miss the part where he points out, quite accurately, that what she did could risk the future of the species? Balbury does everything towards what he considers the best interests of the Lappineans. That includes keeping them in the council. I frame him as a character to be feared - despite the fact that, half the time, he's on their side. He just doesn't play by the same rules - or ANY rules.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I know that. I was referring to him threatening to kill the kids if she didn't spy for him in order to get him information. I understood everything up until he started threatening her children.

[Welsh Halfwit]

I know that. I was referring to him threatening to kill the kids if she didn't spy for him in order to get him information. I understood everything up until he started threatening her children.

Yeah. Best way to ensure someone's compliance isn't to threaten them; it's to threaten their family.

Anyhow.

THIRTY-EIGHT


Minika kept her head down. The fire was more to the back of the vehicle and Straw had taken the assembly gun from the ‘toolbelt’ so there wasn’t that much point in her exposing herself as Straw fired distraction fire from the drivers side. Minika popped her head up and pushed into the drivers seat. “From the front,” she called to Straw as someone else took aim. The professional agent twisted around, feeling the shot pass between his ears, and fired back at the opponent, whose armour took the energy impact, the physical making him step back. Minika thrust the truck into forward gear and did her best to run the attacker down. She caught him a glancing blow and knocked him away so Straw could take the offensive. She contracted her form, pulling her feet properly under the wheel, as the fight commenced, driving around the fight.


Straw only mildly felt the agony of his ribs as he ran. He had to keep moving, he knew. They would be trying to draw a bead on him as he moved swiftly (he hoped) towards the one she’d just run over as he struggled to get up off the floor. Possibly stunned rather than injured? He needed the firearm that the guy was reaching for now and he stamped his booted foot down onto the reaching hand, breaking hand bones under the steel cap drivers boot and drawing a cry from the mouth he crashed the other boot into. The figure fell silent and limp and Straw didn’t know if he was out cold or dead from the impact. He wasn’t even considering the difference in levels of paperwork now as he fired back at someone who’d pot shotted at him and rolled for the enemys’ gun.


Minika noted more vehicles heading towards the bay and decided she had to be brave. To be noble. To be mind numbingly stupid. She pushed the lorry down the road, accelerating as best she knew how, drawing on memories of being taught by one of the old Pirates back in the day. He’d been a better teacher than he’d been a lover but, then, he’d not been much of that considering he was a fifty year old Feline. But he’d told her how the things run and she accelerated down the road towards the oncoming vehicles, hoping their reactions were better than hers and they’d get out of the way in time as she crashed them into the walls of the buildings around her. “Sorry,” she called, “guess there wasn’t room!” She took the chance, in the courtyard, to turn the lorry around and head back where she’d come from. She wondered what the convoy leader, now limply staring from where he was handing over orders to two guards holding weapons on him, was thinking of all this. She strained to hold the lorry upright as it twisted around and almost lost it, toppling the vehicle. Indeed, she wasn’t sure how she hadn’t, not knowing there was an anti-tip field operative in the trailer that put out energy waves that almost acted as a force field against the road. Actually, did that trucker look different? Never mind. She started back towards the others. “Slendertush to baldie,” she told her comm, “chaos is in play. The fake Professor is on the scene but has, er…” She paused, trying to find the right word.


“Hopped it,” Andros asked with a tight smile at the phrase. “Rabbited?”

Brutus looked distinctly unimpressed as Andros spoke with Minika. “Any other racial pejoratives you’d like to use?”

Anthony looked over to the burly Bunny. “None that I can think of, my friend.” He changed the channel on his comm. “Beachhead in place,” he advised. “Prime unit on location. All units engage.”


The gate guard fell silent as the convoy boss punched him hard in the throat and caught him before he hit the ground hard. He cuffed the figure to the gate itself and got back in the cab as the assault group in his trailer moved to secure the front area, moving in so the last lorry could block the gate.


“What..?” Brutus looked at Andros with an open mouth.

“Didn’t think we had enough,” the Human replied. “So I got my chief to join us with some of the regulars. We replaced the others when they broke down. Each driver’s IOC and we used the secrecy and security act to get the regulars.”

Brutus wanted to explode. He wanted to thump this Human. He wanted to yell about how they had been trying to keep all this a secret but he didn’t. He tensed, yes, but he knew the Human probably had a point. This was for naught if the attackers were all killed, after all. “You’re more cunning than you look,” he opined, before cracking half a smile. “You’d have to be, I suppose?” He punched Andros playfully. Andros rubbed his arm.


Straw’s team was still fighting as he, himself, was. He’d gotten in where it was too close to use firearms so punching, kicking and clubbing was the order of the day and his stained fur was stained with the blood of impact wounds as he hoped his cheekbones were unbroken as he backhanded a scientist with a gun across the face in the hallways. The assault team – well, the primary assault team anyhow – were securing the bay and the drums but the ‘Professor’ was still on the loose somewhere in here and sanity only knew what she was up to. But the number of armed scientists was worrying. “Petunia Marwick,” he called, “this is Agent Straw of the IOC. Surrender now and we can avoid bloodshed. Well,” he added, thumping another attacker, “more bloodshed than’s needed.” A security officer stitched fire down the passage, making him take cover and hope for back up.


“There’s a familiar face,” Minika said, more to herself than to anyone else. She jumped as she realised Andros had heard her and was asking who she’d seen over the comms. “Sorry, guys. It’s Marikash Soran. The Raitchian is here too. And he’s heading for a personal shuttle.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Not a bad chapter at all! Can't wait to see what else you add!