IOC Dayrin

[Welsh Halfwit]

21


Gerry kept her thoughts to herself as she met the people Professor Markin dealt with most on this world. She wondered what that must have been like, being the smartest person in the room at all times yet still bouncing ideas off the heads and ears of those around him. Apparently both Doctor Torrige and Dayle Franna, one of the main research assistants here had given Markin the idea to use Duralineum in the casing to harden it and keep the flow regulated. She wondered which, if either, was really true but conceded that conversations with them would have helped Markin formulate his ideas in his own mind. At this stage a scientist was often their own script editor, ironing out their own problems and inconsistencies with other authors. Explain this. Make it clear. How do we get from point A to B?


Keila was following it. She knew they didn’t think she would be but she was a mechanic for the Militia so understood much of how engines went together and what they were made of and the conversation was just n engine writ large. From what she knew of Starship engines she could see the problem regarding redesigns. The power flowed via different circuits, made of far more refined metals and compounds than were found in most ship engines. It was more a luxury feature than a standard fitting. Also, any ship that could take it would need to be overhauled to strengthen the frame against the added pressures as it, apparently, increased the stresses on everything around it by about fifteen percent, according to Franna, who’d just admitted that was one of the reasons the Council wanted to examine everything before committing to buying it. This, apparently, had rritated Markin somewhat considerably as it would hold up exploration and the savings of lives and time. He’d complained about bean counters, apparently. “Did he ever tell you if any of the companies were interested in talking more on this,” she asked, slightly startling the Raitchian.

“I’m so sorry,” he said with humour, “I’d forgotten you were there.”

“Words I never hear for 50, Rayca,” Keila muttered to herself.

“They all were,” he told them. “Monta, Fawren, Raicarra, Soldeen…” The Raitchian shrugged. “All of them tried to get to the Professor. But he stated it shouldn’t be sold to one company over the others as they’d use it to drive the others out of business. The Council was the fair way. And yes,” he added, before either of the agents could mention it, “they DID approach me for it. Offered a lot of credits but I’m not short in funding and, frankly, I don’t know enough about what the Professor was doing to be of much help.”

“So you said no?”

He cringed slightly.

Gerry rolled her eyes. “Off the record.”

“Markin had me say yes and send them some blueprints he made up. They sent a fair bit through to an account we set up. As soon as the funds arrived we withdrew them, closed the account and donated the money to charity. It was Monta, by the way. He recognised the agent’s name. He’s in charge of their group on Dartina.”

Gerry added Monta Weapontech to the suspect list. “I’ll need all the documentation you have on that. You’re lucky I’m not interested in colonial issues and I’ll feel no need to bring this to the local police if you get me everything you’ve got on that.”

“It… it’ll be done in thirty,” he stammered, taking her details and deciding it was time to be somewhere else.

“Things may be ‘off the record,’” Gerry told Keila, “but, ‘off the record’, we can still use it to influence them when we want. “So, Doctor Torridge,” she said, returning to normal volume as she turned back to the feline, “you were about to tell me about the Professor’s private life.”

The Tortan looked confused. She’d not said a single word about this to the Human. “I was,” she queried.

“You were,” Gerry affirmed.


“We locked down the area as soon as we were instructed to, agent Furbright,” the Canine Officer told him, looking as though he was trying to dominate the scene, next to his Police vehicle on the side of the dustbowl road. The hot wind was beginning to whip things up, leading to everyone wearing protective goggles which hid the fact that the intimidation wasn’t working. “We’ve done everything we can professionally and to the best of our ability and we don’t appreciate you people coming in to show you’re better at our jobs than we are!”

“Oh, we’re not here to do that, Officer Tsynan,” Dalton replied smoothly after a vehicle swept by, the third in as many minutes. “We just have slightly different methods we can employ and we can be a little more focussed. I mean, take this now. You’re not just concentrating on me, are you? You’re monitoring traffic. Probably on the lookout for local criminals? In other words, doing your job. You can’t focus on one particular case.” He shrugged and indicated Marcus in the same gesture. “That’s what we’re for. That and access to the Federal systems.”

“Hmm,” Tsynan grumbled. “The surveillance from that camera up there,” he stated, gesturing to a nature surveillance camera in the trees, “recorded the truck heading south on the night in question. The main road and the tunnel are down that way.

“The tunnel where the truck was lost?”

“That’s the one.” He turned his back and stepped back towards his vehicle. “No budget for cameras. Be sure to mention that in your report agent. Forensics have been to the house but there’s no sense in running forensics outside.”

“Why’s that?”

“Stand there and find out.”

Dalton got the idea and got back into the car before the dust storm got there and the road went red for thirty seconds.


Letitia opened the door to Martin’s home and stepped in to a location of utter depression. Small, tight and dirty, the three up, two down accommodation didn’t speak to money. In fact it spoke to the exact opposite to an adult. The two were menial workers, in public life. A porter and a secretary. Neither doing well, it seemed, until the Fifteen thousand credits had arrived in their account a few days back. Well, Fifteen thousand and a week in a four star hotel and shuttle tickets. It felt like oil, dipped in grease and meat. It smelled of it too. Parik stepped in behind her. “Touch nothing you don’t have to,” he reminded her. “Just pack him a bag.”

“I remember,” she groused, heading up to the top floor without putting her hand on the rail. Parik was there to photograph and scan any products she selected for the bag she’d had to spend some of her hard earned wages on. It wasn’t an expensive bag but it should do. She looked in on the parents room, with the unmade bed and thin sheets and she wondered what had made them so desperate that they’d... Ah. “There’s a crib in here,” she told Parik. “Still boxed.”

“There’s no record of a baby… Oh, right.” He tutted sadly. “Making way for who’s to come...”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Stuff like this is made even sadder when there is a baby involved or about to be involved. Finding out about them getting ready really was an emotional gut-punch.

[Welsh Halfwit]

22


“So, what’s your thoughts,” Keila asked Gerry as the pair were alone in Markin’s office.

Gerry, sat in the professors chair after several minutes of examining the room, the digital book store, the dying plants, the carpet, the furniture, the AI robotic assistant that was stored in a closet and turned off and the coat wardrobe next to it, spun the chair around to face the giant as she got up from looking under the desk for anything taped to the underside. “I’m more interested in YOUR opinions, Agent Sweetstalk. What do you see?”

Keila looked around. “The Professor’s relying a lot on the opinion of the people out here,” she admitted. “It’s possible that someone here leaked information to the kidnappers about the Professor’s hidey-hole and they’re looking to profit from it? We need to see if we can get access to their financials.”

“Fair,” Gerry conceded, “but we’d never get a warrant without a lot more evidence than this. None of the people we’ve spoken to here seem the sort to be in any money worries. Of course, some of them might be faking being in the style they’ve been accustomed to but, when I said what do you see..?”

Keila’s ears flicked up. “Oh.” She looked around the room. “Well, um… Carpet’s expensive and, technically, redundant due to always wearing shoes or getting the footclaws caught if they went barefoot? It’d be imported – probably – as there’s no Ovine’s around and this is real cutoffs. The table’s…” She ran a scan over it. “E...Elum,” she queried, not quite knowing the word.

“Elm,” Gerry commented. “Earth wood.”

“Uh, that. There’s a lot of expensive things here…”

Gerry slapped the elm. “There are indeed,” she admitted. “n fact, there’s a lot of expensive things throughout this entire university, Keila. New computers, new equipment, high priced Professors. This computer,” she added, gesturing towards it with an open palm, “is last year’s model. Still expensive. He’s got a robot personal assistant in there,” she added, thumbing towards the closet. “Thing’s not been dusted recently so I get the feeling he hasn’t been using it. There’s a Android receptionist. This colony is not that rich yet this University is running on opulence. Where’s the money coming from?” She tilted her head quizzically. “And we’ve been here two hours. Where’s the principal? Or the head of department? They know we’re here and we’ve got free reign to wander?” She shook her head. “That doesn’t work for me. Time to play the game.” She pushed herself up from the chair, holding the small of her back as she did so. She stepped over to the closet and opened it to reveal an Android, which she reached around and turned on.


It whirred smoothly into life and connected to the local galnet servers as its cameras updated to the newest versions and the top mounted auditory sensors twitched. “Professor Markin,” it asked.

<“No,”> the human in front of it said, holding up a priority over-ride card with the letters ‘IOC’ on it. <“Senior Agent Gerry. Please summon the Principal to meet us here as soon as possible. Then tell me what Professor Markin used you for.”>


It took three attempts to his the asteroid at medium distance, Dane noted, and he imagined the Militia ships watching laughing their engines off at the mighty U.S.C. ship, unable to fight a slowly spinning lump of rock as the low power shot bored into the surface, fifty feet away from where it should have hit. “Peeves,” he said, head resting on his right hand whilst the fingers of his right tapped the arm rest with his claws, “if you COULD stop making the locals laugh about our accuracy?”

“Going the final fine tuning now, sir,” the Mican remarked as Schole advised stepped on the bridge to advise the last defective conduit had been replaced.

Dane scoffed slightly. “You stopped falling through them, then, Chief?”

“Yeah, it’s not good for my morale,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked out of the viewscreen. “Hmm, a standard asteroid? Shouldn’t be this hard to hit dead centre,” he added as Peeves missed again, scoring the surface and blowing a small chunk off.

“You’d hardly think so,” Dane muttered.

“I.. I don’t get it,” Peeves replied, throwing his hands up. “The weapons are calibrated and…”

Schole moved across to the science station, currently unmanned and checked the readings. “It’s not you, Squeaky,” he told Peeves, earning himself a future warning for the cheek from Dane. “That asteroid’s putting out something of a large magnetic field over a lose area. It’s distorting the weapon track. You’ll never hit it dead on.”

“And they knew that,” Dane mused. “Peeves, show them we don’t appreciate the joke, would you? Fifty percent.”

“Aye, sir,” the Mican replied, boosting the power.


“So,” Marcus asked as he and Dalton looked around the gleaming white surfaces of Markin’s refuge, “who do you reckon had the codes?” He wanted to conserve his steps in here, partly to avoid disturbing anything that could be evidence but, also, because he didn’t want to make the floor with dirt from the walk in from the car. “I mean, we’re talking very few people, right?”

Dalton agreed from where he was crouched by the ingrained red stain that hadn’t come out, even after the crime scene cleaner had been in. He supposed they’d had to do it. All the forensics had been done and the videos taken but he wished they hadn’t. The stain looked more like wine than blood now. “And he doesn’t draw his weapon either,” Dalton remarked. “He didn’t see this coming, which is a bit off considering the cameras just happened to turn off during the crucial hour. So we have them knowing the code and our friend here. Midnight’s checking his financials but, other than that? I think I agree with a certain Private Eye. The police could be complicit.”

Marcus sniffed and spun to face the figure stepping down the staris a few seconds before he appeared and Maloney found himself facing two firearms. “Good to know you share my feelings about the local flats,” the Raitchian stated, only giving the barest recognition of the weapons via having his hands palm up in front of his chest.

“How did you get in here?”

“Same way you did. I got here ten minutes back.”

“How did you..?”

“Last scientist out owed me. Gave me the code. Want to see what I found upstairs?”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Moral of the story: find someone that has the information you need that owes more than you owe and use that to get them to pony up said information. It looks like in this case it worked quite well. LOL

[Welsh Halfwit]

23


The agents followed Maloney up the stairs towards the bedrooms, stepping up a white staircase with a complete absence of floor covering that had Dalton considering things, looking at their feet as they went. Marcus noted it as he went. “Worried about tripping,” he asked glibly.

“Nope,” Dalton told him. “It’s a surveillance thing. The system was tracking movement, remember? Floor sensors register the weight displacement on the hard floor and it has to be stored on a computer somewhere. It picked up some stuff but we should have a proper look at that recording “

“Yeah, I’ll let you deal with that. Sounds rather like watching grass grow.”

Maloney, muttering to himself that this pair talked too much, came to the top of the stairs and led them down the passageway towards the first bathroom and the bedroom linked to it. The bed was unmade, Marcus noted, as it might be if the incident had occurred at night. “But that’s a feint,” he added, getting Maloney, who clearly knew the answer anyhow, to ask what he meant. Marcus pointed to an empty clotheshorse next to the wardrobe. “There’s pyjamas on the bed and that’s empty,” he stated. “Markin was fully clothed when this happened. He’d not been to bed.”

“And he’d cleaned the bed,” Maloney remarked. “No stray follicles to be found. I looked.”

Declan assessed the Raitchian. “You’ve been here a LOT longer than a ‘few minutes’, haven’t you?”

“And the locals didn’t spot me. Because I found something they didn’t.” He stepped over to the inlaid wardrobe and pushed the door inwards, The door opened, swinging and area about two feet deep in on a hinge to reveal a secret room behind it, complete with replication machine, computer monitors, commlines and chairs. “A panic room.”

“Why didn’t they get in there,” Declan asked.

Marcus sniffed the air inside the secure room and worked the scents through in his mind, eliminating Maloneys, Furbrights and his own. There was, he reckoned, definite scents of others in this room and he mentioned that to his partner and the Private Investigator.

“I agree,” Maloney said, stepping in with the pair and closing up the door behind them. “The reason I found it, after heading straight up here following our conversation in the diner, is that the door was open. Even I’d be hard pressed to miss that. But, then again, so would the local flats. They’re corrupt, some of them are stupid but they’re none of them blind.”

“So this was shut when they were here and open when you got here,” Declan mused. “Which means they were still here when the Police searched this place.”

Marcus rolled his eyes. “Of course they were. The boss was righter than she knew.”

“Stay within the search radius until it spreads itself too wide,” Maloney told them. Declan sat at the computer and started seeing if he could get through security. He was denied twice and Marcus gave him a postal note he’d found stuck to a cupboard door. “I’m in,” he told them, “and I know how you knew to look there, Marcus. I’m seriously going to have to work on security with you.”


Dane watched as they engaged their latest asteroid with considerably more ease than the first one, now adjusting tactics and aim to compensate for the magnetic interference whilst, at Scholes bequest, a shuttle was going out to collect fragments of the first and you never quite knew when powerful magnetic forces could become useful and they did have a storage bay capable of keeping it safe. Hewelstone had reported that the Militia commander was complaining they didn’t have any rights to the ore but Dane had the Shrewvian reply that it was payment for their amusement and they’d only collect on that one. The new one they’d chosen was further out in the field and bigger by a considerable amount so they were staying further back and dialling it to thirty percent power to drill into the rock as deeply as possible and they targetted the rock. “Don’t miss, Peeves,” Dane warned, getting a little annoyed about the Militia. He realised he should have told Hewelstone to put the Militia Commander through to him, rather than relay the message but the time was gone now. Next time, perhaps.

“Couldn’t it I wanted to,” the Mican replied, starting up the beams as Schole watched over the energy output as the forward weapons held continuous beams of energy, driving into the surface of the asteroid and powering into the surface, sending crumpled debris up from the edges, even as it pushed the target back, towards other distant rocks and…

“Hold fire,” Schole called out, making Peeves turn the beams off as Dane looked at the Engineer on the science station.

“Care to explain, Chief?”

“No,” Schole replied, pointing at the screen, where the asteroid was rotating around a new axis under the impact of the push from the cannons. “What I just saw on the scanners should be showing up shortly.”

Dane and, indeed, the rest of the bridge crew watched the asteroid as it turned and it felt almost like a cliff hanger as the mass of unexpected metals and other elements the Jondahl had detected slowly swung into view, cast into shadow by the local sun before becoming clear. “A crashed shuttle,” the Captain remarked. Closing in on the view. Or is it landed,” he mused, noting he couldn’t see any damage. He tapped his comm. “Harrison,” he told the security chief, “prepare a small away team. Yourself, Poynton and one other.”

<“What’s the mission, sir?”>

“Link in to the main viewer.”

<“Ah. Space suits and Shuttle one needed.”>

“Can’t risk teleporting you with the magnetic interference. Suggest you take a pilot that’s NOT our flight leader.”

<“I’ll find one,”> he replied, before cutting the link and making Dane wonder if they’d ever allow him to do that.

“Hewelstone, contact the Militia Commander, would you?” Hewelstone asked whath the message was and Dane told him, simply, that the message was one he’d deliver and just to connect them. Main viewer when he could. The image of the fellow Feline flicked on and Dane imagined that he was demanding to know what Dane was up to. He imagined it because he couldn’t actually hear him. Schole darted over to the engineering console and adjusted a few dials until the sound cracked into life. <“...ing the limits of our tolerance,”> the local admiral finished.

“Never mind all that,” Dane replied, “what do you know of the shuttle we just found? Schole, can you link our visual? If they don’t come out this close to this asteroid field – or shoot them with such precision and power – their sensors might not have picked it up before.” Oh, he thought, this bit was fun...

[Amazee Dayzee]

It always is fun trying to figure out a mystery about something that just falls into your possession without even looking. Something tells me that the answers that are sought are not gonna come easily but then again when do they ever?

[Welsh Halfwit]

24


Gerry sat in Principal Varik’s office and glanced around at the oak panelled walls and teak desk and the shining computer monitors studded into the walls and she knew what her first question was going to be. “This isn’t a very rich colony,” she stated, pretending to have thought the question up on the spot. “Where has the University sourced it’s funding?”

Varik prepared his thoughts before the Britan shorthair replied, blinking and making his slit eyes expand slightly as he regarded the human and the Lappinean. “The regulations are slighter out here,” he stated. “Companies finance us to do research and work without having to set up their own laboratories and research centres out here. We have a stipulation that they’re not permitted to influence our researches, although they are allowed to suggest directions and send details of the work they’ve done. We then send the research on to who best suits it if we can’t finish things up and send it to Council if we can finish it up. Whichever way it happens, the companies split fifteen percent of the profits between them. Last year our work led to them sharing fifteen million credits, three times more than they put in. We got to keep the rest.”

“A nice piece of the pie,” Gerry remarked.

“Do you know who all your backers are,” Leila asked.

“We keep records,” the principal replied. “I’ll have them made available to you.”

“Has anyone made any threats against Markin recently,” Gerry asked, looking to get back into things in a subtler way. “I understand certain non sentient rights advocates have protested recently?”

“Yes, but against our medical research teams, not the engineering. And they’ve never been violent.”

Gerry pondered. “How did Markin feel about them,”

“He had no opinion on them whatsoever as far as I know. He never met with them. I don’t think he ever talked with them.”

“I’m having his A.I assistant look through all the records as best it can. Markin didn’t like A.I., I take it?”

“No. He was concerned that one or other of the companies would use her to spy on him.” The Principal laughed curtly, a single snicker sounding. “He said they wouldn’t have make it sexy otherwise.”

That took Keila by surprise. She’d seen it and not thought it very attractive. Perhaps the Professor was attracted to shiny things. Raitchians’ often were. “So,” she asked, “how come you didn’t meet us when we arrived? Federals are often met by senior members…”

“Yes,” he replied, “I knew you’d prefer to look around for yourself at the start and I’ve some time to work on reassigning the Professor’s classes for the moment and seeing if I can approach a few stand ins. We need to cover his classes with someone just as qualified – or as close to as we can get.”

“Who’s offered?”

“Monta and Witherington.”

Gerry grimaced at the name of the Human corporation. Being from Haldana, she’d met with that particular conglomerate several times and had her investigations steamrolled into the dirt by them. They could be open and generous but they could also be obstructionist and deceptive. Still, she had someone she could contact who might not lie to her about what they were doing. One of three someones, in fact.


Harrison and Poynton stood outside the shuttle that clearly hadn’t crashed on this asteroid as it was far too intact for that. They decided to keep silent until the space suits were off as Poynton worked on opening the door, lit by the lights of the shuttle that they’d just landed twenty feet back. It was a given that the Corgan would have opened the ship more easily without the bulked up fingers of her suit but it was also a given that 20ft of travel in outer space was 20 ft you’d never make without a suit. Harrison had scanned the interior and it seemed to show no-one inside. At least no-one alive anyhow but he reckoned this shuttle was about the same size as the one the IOC had docked in the bay. Plenty of ways to hide. The door opened and there was no sudden whap of air leaving the ship so the Security chief figured it was already decompressed, either by a micro hull breach or by someone leaving the way they were coming in. They stepped inand lit up their head torches to compensate for being cut off from the shuttle lights. Light picked out the walls and benches of a fairly stark cabin, playing with angles as they bounced off floors and inset benches whilst the engineer looked around for the switch that she knew would be close to the hatch button. A moment of checking it for traps and she pressed it, her suit analysing the content of the oxygen that was being squirted in from an unknown container until it reached the required pressure and stopped. One final check and she opened up the visor and told Harrison it was fine to do likewise. He flicked his ears in appreciation after doing so. “Thoughts,” he asked, his powerful voice echoing off the bulkheads.

“That you shouldn’t shout,” she replied with humour. “Seriously, though, this thing was made for this. The hull has magnetic forse resistant compounds in amongst the usual. The gravity is Celica level, for what that’s worth as Lappara, Felas and Earth are in roughly the same grouping. From what I saw of the engine on the way in, this is a velocity class shuttle, capable of velocity one or two if I’m right. I’ll check the engine whilst I’m here. Now, turnabout being fair play, what about you?”

Harrison snorted. He’d prefer to keep his opinions to himself but, then again, he had asked so it might be an idea to give some voice to his thoughts. “This section is built for one of two things. Moving cargo or an assault force across great distances. I’m more likely to go with the assault force. You could fit about a dozen in here but they probably didn’t go that far unless they had two or three shuttles to get them from here down to the ground. It’s likely they only had one.”

“Why?”

“The new paint the Loper got is still very expensive. If I were to assume this was about getting in and out stealthily, I’d think they’d need a shuttle covered with that.”

“Why only one?”

Harrison gestured with a hand. “They didn’t have enough to paint this. They wanted to sneak past the militia in both directions. This can’t do it.”

“You think this is linked to the kidnap?”

“I think it’s a bit co-incidental otherwise.”


Maloney watched over Dalton as he worked on downloading the files and, occasionally, glanced at the other screens. “You think you’re about done,” he asked.

“You have somewhere to be,” Dalton replied drily.

“No,” the detective replied, tapping the screen that showed a vehicle pulling up outside. “I just think they might try to interfere.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Declan better hurry the heck up in that case then since I don't think the people that came are that friendly. I don't think it would be a good idea to get into any sort of firefight right now.

[Welsh Halfwit]

25


“Should we contact Dayrin,” Marcus asked, getting tight into position near the top of the stairs, where he could fire down without being in total eyeline of assailants coming up.

“What,” Dalton replied, “for a mere bunch of thugs who don’t know we’re here?” He stepped into cover behind one of the doorways as the group began to enter the house. “Tried. Out of range.”

Maloney stepped out and found his way to another room. “Locals on the way,” he advised the others. “Someone just called them and said the two IOC agents were about to be jumped.” He pulled a heavy energy hand cannon from his pocket and loaded the energy cartridges. “Can’t have you lot being killed on their watch,” he added, “makes them look incompetent. You gonna do the suicide statement?”

“The what,” Dalton hissed.

“Y’know the ‘IOC’ thing that gets you shot at every time.”

“In a way,” the Lappinean whispered, before rolling a small ball to Marcus, who nodded and sent it bouncing down the stairs.

It stopped at the feet of a feline and the figure wondered what it was before bending down to pick it up. “This is Agent Furbright of the IOC,” Dalton’s voice stated from the tiny speaker. “You will leave these premises immediately or be fired upon. Assistance has been requested.”

The figure whooped. “Two of you and six of us, fellah,” he stated, “but we’re not that interested in shooting you, agents, so why don’t you just leave and let us get on with what we’re here for?” Marcus couldn’t help but notice four of them were now holding weapons in their hands.

“Care to let us know what you’re after? We might be able to help you find it,” the ball asked.

Another laugh. “Sorry but, if we told you, we’d have to kill you.”

“Can’t blame a guy for trying,” Dalton said from the ball, a second before it exploded with a highly audible ‘pow!’ that flashed brightly against the eyes and ears, spreading a small amount of shrapnel over a handful of metres and blowing the feline’s hand off with it, despite the comparatively small amount of explosives. The figure looked at the mess where his hand had been, his face frozen in time for a moment before the knees buckled and he dropped to the floor, heart having given out to shock as someone yelled a name and energy fire tore upwards to try and pick them off.


Letitia Switt was in the mood to murder several Raitchians. A week ago she’d been happily ensconced behind a desk and now she was on the command deck of a ship, performing actions she barely felt able to do, ordering people around rather than ‘encouraging’ them to make her life easier without them knowing it, suffering under perpetual motion that had her feeling like she was five minutes away from relocating her lunch on occasions and, yes, she knew it was mostly psychological but that didn’t make it a lie and now she had other responsibilities that she had to take on. Yes, she liked the boy but… she couldn’t raise a kid! She wasn’t equipped or prepared or… anything. But she’d seen his place. They’d not just sold him. They’d not just abused him over the years in small, irregular ways if the Doctor was to be believed. They’d abandoned him to his fate and that was something she couldn’t quite comprehend. Her family had been there for her when she grew up. Protecting and helping, even though times had been tough. Right now, she hated Martin’s parents with a passion that, if she’d been able, would have throttled the life out of them at five hundred miles. As it was, she was saying nothing much as she wheeled a small trolley full of his stuff around a small mall where he was buying more on her credit. Bang, she thought as Martin showed her a multi coloured shirt almost as bright as the smile he had on, goes my holiday fund. “I’m not made of money, you know,” she said.

“No, but you have more than my parents,” he admitted glumly, looking sad. He dropped his arms, trailing the shirt on the floor as he looked down. “Maybe that’s why they…” He choked up.

Letitia leaned on one of the units in the shop. “You did this for the last two shirts, the shorts and the little voice projection thing. I have to penalise you one shirt. For my eyeballs sake. Put it back.” He trooped away, denied his prize, as Letitia examined a few racks.

“Martin Railla,” she heard a voice say and it took a second to click that it was the boy’s full name. It hadn’t been said by a nice voice either. “Nah,” it continued, “you don’t know me but I know your dad, see?” Letitia made her way through the shop towards the voice. “He owes me money and I can’t find him,” the voice continued, “so I’m going to have to send him a message, aren’t I?” Letitia stepped close to the older Raitchian, his fist drawn back to strike the cringing Martin.

“Want to send a message,” she asked sweetly, pushing the trolley to Martin with a ‘hold this’ gesture. “Fine,” she continued, her voice dropping to venom. “So do I.”


Gerry and Keila had moved scene for an hour whilst the AI kept running through the Professor’s activities and updating Midnight in real time, stepping into the home base of Koveran Matinna, local, unproven, kingpin at large. The pair stepped through the warehouse, full of haulage trucks, and looked for someone to announce themselves to. A Canine of the Sheparran kind glowered at them from the gantry. “He’s out,” she said, disgust clear in her tone.

“Then get him in,” Gerry replied. “It’s better he deals with us here than we go find him. Makes us think he has things he doesn’t want us to know.”

“It’s all right, Gretal,” a voice stated from behind them. Gerry turned to see the Feline/Raitchian cross enter, flanked by two rather heavy set Feline guards, “I’m back so I have time to talk to the agents.” His face broke into a strange smile, showing his strange teeth. “Just three strange creatures talking to each other, correct?”

“Right now,” Gerry replied, “it’s correct.”

“To my office,” he replied, walking straight past them and not bothering to tell them to follow. Gerry was sure Greta growled at her as she went past.


“Any idea how far away those locals are,” Marcus asked as the three of them fought a holding action. He’d had to back away from the stairs as a couple of the attackers had had the thought to stand underneath and fire up through the floor. First shot had singed his boots and burned his toes and the assailants were now trying to mount the stairs as Dalton looked for a back staircase.

“Not a clue,” Maloney replied, firing his cannon.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I can only imagine how painful getting hit in the toes is especially if the shot did damage to his boots and gave them a nasty burn. That is definitely gonna be felt for a long time and probably gonna be agonizing.

[Welsh Halfwit]

26


Marcus held his left arm as the fire intensified on their position, cutting through wood, plaster and some of the thinner metal liners in the walls as the assault continued, He fired the gun in his uninjured hand and hit a microdrone the opponents were using to target more accurately. Maloney’s hand cannon shouted its message of malevolence for all to hear and discouraged the assailants by removing half of one of their number a few seconds before the current leader of the pack commented they had to leave now as the locals were on the way. They heard running feet and the sound of silence suddenly descending. “Not chasing after them,” Maloney goaded, ejecting the cartridge he’d just used up in one shot.

“Not I,” Dalton replied, rubbing his ears to try and clear the after effect of the boom. “Could easily be a trick and them waiting for us down there. Also, we’ve got no idea what they’re after except it’s up here, which is why they weren’t happy we were up here.” He gestured at the damage. “That assault wasn’t because they were run a marathon at my trick with the exploding speaker. They wanted up here.” Marcus groaned and Dalton stooped beside him with a small medical scanner. “And he’s injured. Looks through and through. Meat only.” He listened to the sound of sirens approaching. “For a moment, I thought you’d lied when you said you’d called them.”

“For a moment,” Maloney admitted sheepishly, “so did I. See you later.”

Dalton didn’t quite credit what the Raitchian had said for a few seconds as he was working to apply a sealant to Marcus’ wound. When he did, and looked around, Maloney was gone. “Great,” he remarked as the police swarmed the lobby. “IOC upstairs,” he called, “Do you have a medic? Wounded officer up here!”

“That’s the Rabbit,” Officer Tsynan told his commander, who was prodding a handless Feline with his foot to make sure he was dead.

“Right,” the striped Feline in charge said, “take Tarby up there. Carefully. And arrest Maloney if you see him,” he added, gesturing to the half body at the bottom of the stairs.


Poynton turned the wi-fi off on the shuttle so the ship wouldn’t start up automatically whilst they were still aboard as it had been programmed to. The Corgan remarked that she’d done it and Harrison replied they’d need to turn it back on before they left if they wanted to follow it back to it’s home base. He’d left the tracking beacon under the main forward console, connected into the communication system to send out an almost silent signal on an irregular time frame. “I’m almost finished here,” he told her, before turning the system on to see what information it held. “It doesn’t indicate the ship it came from,” Harrison stated. “Needs to be a big one, though. The shuttle’s velocity capable, true, but it’d still take ages to get anywhere worth going. There’s no register of the main ship’s transponder on the system.”

“Not surprising,” Poynton remarked, “this shuttle doesn’t have one either. They must have arranged times and locations for rendezvous.” She looked up and ran a finger along the edge of a vent. “Makes you wonder why it’s still here, doesn’t it?”

“Mmm,” Harrison replied. “According to this the shuttle landed here two days back. It registered a second light shuttle from the planet landing close by before the systems went into saver mode. Passive observation. So it can only give a general direction for the shuttle after it left here.”

“Where to?”

He sighed. “Planetward. Northern hemisphere. The Dayrin might be able to track it better. I’ll upload the system recording.”

“No, you won’t,” Poynton snipped. “I’ll do it. I’ll run it through a secure server first to make sure there’s no traps.”

“I was going to run it through the isolated system,” Harrison fumed, his ears flicking.

“Haven’t got one at the moment,” she replied, attaching a secured drive to the nearest input station. “We’re supposed to have one but we needed the computing power to get things up and running with the suddenness of the trip. It got cleaned and drafted into service. It’s being isolated again. It’s on the latest security updates for today.”

“Which I’ll get to later today,” Harrison told her. “I’ve had to update myself with everything and organise, same as you.”

Poynton sighed. “We really needed more time. A completely new crew, getting used to a new… old ship.”

“Hmm, let’s look around properly.”


Gerry sat in a plasticated chair as Koveran sat opposite, in a high backed throne type chair that was designed to remind everyone who was in charge without having to say it. The crossbreed was waiting for her to start and she was doing likewise as Keila looked around the office, escorted by Gretal, who was making sure she didn’t lay any listening devices or see anything she wasn’t supposed to see. Gerry allowed him to win. “Do we keep this game up much longer,” she asked, “or do you admit you know what we’re talking about and skip straight to your explanations?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” the gangster replied, his face playing a smile that could be blamed on his heritage rather than amusement.

“Why one of your lorries was breaking the colony transit rules close to where Professor Markin was kidnapped from at around the same time he was kidnapped?”

“Oh, that,” Koveran said, his expression changing to that of someone who was pretending to realise what was being talked about for the first time. It was something that would fool most people, Gerry realised, but she had decades in law enforcement prejudicing her towards people being liars and her encounters with a Raitchian called Bushey giving her a few tips into the Raitchian manner. “Yes, it was lodged at Newbuns for the night where it was stolen. We have the tracking data for you, if you want it.”

“We do,” Gerry admitted as Gretal slapped at Keila’s hand as she went to pick up a bottle of vintage Lapparan Grain Liquor from the sideboard. “Originals, if you can.”

“Would I do otherwise? Despite what Tomara tells you, I’m just a businessman.”

“With seven hundred credit bottles of Liquor on the sideboard,” Gerry noted. “That’s fairly expensive.”

“But all above board. I handled the moving haulage for some wealthy residents. Who only use me more than once if I give them discretion. And I do like my liquor.”

“So, would you have any idea of what might have happened to the Professor? Hypothetically, of course.”

“Not really. Although I do understand the Professor needs metals that are hard to come by? Perhaps you should look into what’s happening there?”


“Did we get anything from that,” Keila asked as they walked back to their vehicle.

“Yes, we…” Gerry paused as her comm sounded and she answered it. “Yes, Tomara? You’re kidding.” A sigh. “OK.” She cut the link. “We need to stop by the Police station before we go back to the university. We need to vouch for Lieutenant Commander Switt.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

I wonder what Switt is thinking knowing she has to get people to vouch for her down at the police station in order to avoid a worse situation. Hopefully they don't end up arrested alongside her when they go and support her.

[Welsh Halfwit]

27


Gerry walked the holding area of the Police station, past the drunkards and the murder suspects, stopping when she came to the general holding cell with the Mican and the Raitchian in it. The Mican had had treatment for a damaged cheekbone but the boy looked unhurt and Gerry turned to the Feline escorting her. “Is it normal to lock up children,” she asked and the Sergeant shrugged her shoulders.

“He refused to leave her,” the Sergeant said, “and we were just holding them until you got here anyhow. This was the only place spare. We won’t be pressing things as, according to witnesses, the other person started it. We just needed someone official to take her away.”

She opened the door and Gerry stepped in. “This isn’t a call I ever expected to make, Lieutenant Commander,” she said, hands on hips. “Our first call involving a U.S.C. officer and it’s you beating the heck out of a Raitchian thug in a department store?”

Letitia looked embarrassed as Martin spoke up in her defence. “She was protecting me and…”

“It’s OK, Martin,” Letitia said, “Agent Gerry’s just here to rescue us – you for the second time,” she added, ruffling his head fur. “It’s Commander Dane I’ll owe the explanations to.”

“You spoiled my line,” Gerry put in. “I’m to get you, him and your shopping – thank me later – off the planet asap. Which is hard as the Dayrin’s out shooting rocks so I’l going to be locking you into the Hawkrin and locking out the main controls. C’mon, you two.”

Letitia pulled herself upright, groaning as her back strained following the fight and Martin hopped off the bench to take her hand and lead them to freedom and their next little prison. After signing a few things.


Twenty minutes later, they arrived at the Hawkrin, where Keila had been isolating a vidlink for Martin to watch some shows and she introduced him to the system as Gerry took Letitia into the pilot’s cabin to ask what was going on. Gerry sighed audibly as the Mican laid it out for her. She made an appointment to see the colony chief later in the day. Inter-colony child sales was something the IOC could assist with, even if just to help the two Police forces work together. “Who knew you were the sort to fight,” Gerry commented slyly.

“I needed an outlet,” Letitia responded. “He needed a few fractures.”

“There’s no charges because the Chief here wants you to be allowed to keep the kid. And the other guy started it. But you’ve walked a tightrope here, Letitia. Next time? Let security handle it. For now? Your punishment is to act as our office drone here, relaying messages and finding facts when we call in. Like an office manager.”

The Mican shrugged. “More like a drone, but I’ll take it. You made progress on the case?” Gerry laid out her side, including her thoughts on the extreme amount of money thr University was making and the fact their books were being sent over for the IOC to go through and Switt mentioned she knew a few programs that might make that go faster. Gerry mentioned their meeting with the local crime boss come legitimate businesstype and Switt said she had nothing could help there but she’d help where she could as the ground was solid enough and they stepped back into the main room. Letitia glanced at what Martin was drinking. She looked back at Gerry. “Your agents allow that,” she asked.

“Machine only does alcohol free versions,” Gerry explained, thinking Sweetstalk had better explain this to her later.

“He found it when my back was turned, boss,” Keila volunteered, not fooling either of them. “Midnight called from the ship. Apparently systems finally got a hit on the wounded person from the kidnapping?

“Day late, dollar short,” Gerry grumbled. “Who is it?”

Keila brought the file up on the screen and a Burman Feline appeared, glaring into the camera. “Martovan Dig,” she explained. “Researcher for Monta Weapontech. Wasn’t on the usual databases but turned up as a suspect in a DUI case on Celica five years back. That’s why it took so long. We only had the record stored because he crashed into a U.S.C. noncom. He was cleared and, under the five year rule, his details were about to be deleted but they have a backlog. They’re running a month behind at the moment.”

“So they might have figured he was safe to use.” Gerry mused. “I’ll get Tomara up to date so he can run all the vid scans for this guy, now that we know what he looks like. And they can check the hospitals too a…”

She paused as Letitia, already sitting at the console and taking a call, said ‘I’ll tell her’ and turned to her. “You should start with your people in Newbuns. According to the chief of Police there, they’re already in the hospital.”


Furbright’s comm beeped insistently as he was checked out by the Doctor and passed with a full bill of health and he knew who was calling. Largely because the incoming signal in his ear was telling him. Now he was out of the consultation room, he could answer. “I can explain,” he said quickly, talking over a very annoyed boss “The local Police wouldn’t leave us alone and sent us to the hospital immediately, where we’ve both just been seen by the medical teams and we’re both fine except for a small hole in Marcus’ arm that’s being seen to now and we have two bodies for Chizelhurst!” He stopped to take a breath.

<“Fine,”> Gerry said tightly, clearly still holding it against him but understanding he probably had no choice. <“Report.”>


“Got them,” Letitia said, pulling up the files from the safe room on the screen. “Want me to go through them,” she asked.

“No,” Gerry replied, “I have a better idea. Make me a copy.”


Half an hour later, the pair walked back into Markin’s office and greeted the Artificial assistant. “I have extrapolated a timetine for you,” it stated, “based on the files provided.”

“Thanks,” Gerry stated, passing over the copy they’d taken. “Send it over. Then look for anything strange in this. Also, for the next few hours, you should no longer accept orders from University personnel or corporate entities, either in person or digitally, do you understand Amy? Only from IOC and may I call you Amy?”

“Understood, order to not accept orders accepted and an acceptable name,” it said, opening a small input system and plugging the drive in after uploading the files. “Scanning. Anomaly detected.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Amy is a MUCH better name for a artificial assistant than any other name that are being used. Siri and Cortana are just weird and I can't see Alexa suiting any AI as it just doesn't sound like it would fit any. Amy is a nicer name and it helps that the assistant can probably do more than any of the current assistants out there.

[Welsh Halfwit]

28


Keila opened the door to the lecture hall where Doctor Havall was teaching his students and stood there, at the back, looking intimidating by virtue of having the door open and it’s light casting her shadow long across the room. The students turned to face her as Havall put his hand above his eyes to see who was disrupting his class. “Can I help you, agent,” he asked.

“Sure,” Keila replied, “but I’ll let you finish your lecture first. Go ahead.” She relaxed against the door, seemingly now realising she was disrupting his class by keeping the door open, apologised when he was three words into his next sentence and moved in a few feet, allowing the door to close behind her. He grumbled that it was OK and brought his class to a speedy end, dismissing them via the back door within a few moments. He promptly left through the side door as Keila was blocked by the departing students. She made her way through, resisting the urge to jump as she’d probably go through the floor with the impact and there wasn’t any need.


Outside the side door, Gerry had the feline in cuffs, claws covered as she waited on Keila. “Figured you’d bolt,” she snarked. “Like a cat in a trap.” she said, turning him around as Keila arrived, her ears slapping the frame of the door.

“Ow! Like we figured, eh boss?”

“Pretty much. I’d regret cuffing you but I want those claws sheathed. Come on, we need to talk to you about certain things you forgot to tell us. Down at the station.” She led the Professor out and put him in the back seat of their truck, in full view of the students and faculty. Keila pressed a button and the area between the front and back sealed off with a transparent field as Gerry locked the Professor in. She got in beside him and the Professor bug eyed as Amy got in the front and the front wheels lowered. “Back to the station, Keila.”

“On it.”

Havall spoke up. “Override code 12a15,” he stated quickly, “Delete all communication files.”

“Order ignored,” Amy said and Gerry was almost sure there was humour in the devices tone. “IOC overrides are in place.”

“But thank you for confirming what we want to talk to you about,” Gerry said, sitting back and recalling she didn’t have her seatbelt on.

“And for reminding us of the maxim about intelligence and common sense not being the same thing,” Keila added, starting off on the journey.


Harrison and Poynton continued searching for what they could on the shuttle and Dane decided to check in with Gerry as to the current situation on the planet and he’d chosen to take it in his office. He was glad he did as he got to spit-take when Switt answered the call. “What the..? What are YOU doing there?”

<“House arrest,”> she replied, thinking he’d need to fire her. <“I’ll explain later.”> She laid out how things were going here, trying to advise that they had made progress, even if she didn’t know what it was.

“Right,” he said in conclusion. “We seem to have their main escape shuttle under watch here. So we have cut off their means of escape. They might not be capable of leaving the planet.”

<“Which might make them more dangerous,”> Letitia replied. <“Cornered Canines and all that.”>

Dane half laughed. “I’d heard it was Raitchians. Still, as long as progress is being made… And what’s the boy still doing with you,” he asked as Martin passed by behind.

<“A connected story,”> she confessed.

“Which you’ll tell me when you’re back on the ship, I’m sure,” Dane told her, thinking of a certain Shrewvian who might be listening in.


“So, you going to tell me why we found command protocols that forwarded copies of everything Professor Markin saved on his home system to your computer, deleting most of the trace evidence after itself?”

The Feline in the interrogation chair shivered slightly, despite the comfortable temperature in the room. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he tried.

“Amy… the AI found the evidence in the files,” Gerry advised, “and, of course, she also recorded your attempt to delete the evidence from her memory too. If you didn’t know anything about the evidence, why did you try that?”

“I had my arguments with the Professor whilst that thing was in the room. I figured it could make me look bad.”

“Nice try,” Keila put in, adjusting her chair slightly. “But we know the Professor hated it and never turned it on.”

“But you had the programme embedded in as a subroutine to receive and relay the signals so it would look like they were coming to his computer here and the copies were deleted. The Police specialist here has located the programme that could run even when Amy was offline. Installed six months back, apparently.”

The academic tilted his head, considered his words, thought twice and considered again. His brow furrowed as he thought on excuses and reasons. “I wanted to keep up with him,” he confessed eventually. “He kept so much to himself so I set that assistant to spy on him as it was already in his computer systems. It was easy to set it up to send from his home. Took just an hour, especially after he showed me the set up there.”

“And who did you tell?”

“No-one,” he replied.

Gerry glanced down for a moment. “That I don’t believe. We’re going to get warrants to go through your life at the microscopic level. Best to tell us who you told. At the moment, you’re the one going to cop the lot for your involvement.”

“Raydak Marron,” he said quietly.

Gerry shook her head. “I have no clue who that is.”

“He works for Matinna. He said he could get it published if I…”

“Got it to him,” Gerry finished. “And share more of the pot than you were going to get from the University?”


Gerry and Keila stepped out and thanked the local police’s empath, who’d been monitoring Havalls’ emotions and signalling when lies were told. “Now,” she told Tomara, “we pick Matinna and Marron up whilst your people scour his life,” she stated, indicating Havall.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Wonder what other information they are going to find out about Havall as they begin to look at everything he was involved in and pick up on anything that was shady. I have a feeling he is involved in some other plots as well that are nefarious.

[Welsh Halfwit]

29


This time they took back up, members of Tomara’s armed response teams arriving in their vans and getting out at speed, armour and weaponry slowing them down so that Keila and Gerry weren’t that far behind in IOC body armour. Gerry took her blaster from the glove compartment and Keila pulled an energy shotgun from the boot and readied it for action as Gerry used the speaker in the car to speak to the people inside the suddenly sealed warehouse. “This is agent Evangeline Gerry of the IOC! We have a warrant to search these premises in investigation of crimes committed. Any attempt to destroy evidence will be taken as impeding the investigation and the person doing it will be arrested! Open the doors or we’ll open them now.” She closed the speaker off and watched as the driver of the armoured van prepped for a ‘big key’ entry.


Gerry turned on the forcefield for the suit and the field fizzed around her for a second as she tapped the van on the side as the key to start. It accelerated forward, straight at the garage doors which crashed open as it struck home, bending the doors enough that the forces could get inside. Three garage workers, caught by surprise, dropped to the floor and put their hands over their heads as they took attention away from the group assembled on the stairs and the firefight between the two forces began. Keila knocked out the power network with a shot to the junction box. Well, her second shot as she missed with the first. Gerry decided to put her down for shooting practice when she could. Gerry entered and fired at a gunner on the far side of the loading dock. She didn’t hit but it made them give up on firing back and took cover.


Marcus shuffled back into his seat and, painfully, engaged the seatbelt as Dalton started the vehicle up and powered away from the hospital to check on the first place Midnight had sent for them to check. Matinna’s crypt, apparently. Well, one he owned anyhow. There was no evidence of his family ever being in the area so what was it for? Dalton drove the twenty minutes towards the cemetary. “You sure you’re alright to do this,” he asked his Celican partner.

“Said I was, didn’t I,” Marcus replied, clearly in some pain as he shifted to get the energy cartridge from the recharge position in the glove compartment. “Hole’s all sealed and everything,” he stated as the shuttle carrying the body and a half from the earlier assault up to the Dayrin’s teleport range. “Shall we tell Maloney?”

“He already knows, probably,” Declan replied, indicating nd turning left onto the highway, barely avoiding a red light runner coming the other way. “Look at that, right through a red! If Tsyan was here he’d have him!”

“Yeah, cheeky within the automobile. What do you mean ‘he knows already, probably’?”

“Shame I couldn’t get his details,” Declan commented. “We need to make a stop first,” he added. “You can’t go around with a hole in your shirt. People won’t be able to concentrate. And Maloney won’t have time to catch up.”

“He’s bugged the car, hasn’t he?”

Declan nodded and pulled into a supply stop roadside station. “Found the tracker before we left the house. Too cheap to be used by the police so it’s Maloney’s.” He parked up and left Marcus in the car whilst he went to get a cheap top that was very near his size and proclaimed he’d seen the roller coaster at the theme park south of the city.

He scowled at the visage of the roller coaster, with kits screaming, their arms aloft, as the car rolled safely along the track at speed. “They really didn’t have anything better,” he asked in disbelief.

“Not in your size,” Declan replied, obviously not facing the Celican as he removed his bloodstained shirt to reveal the bandaged shoulder and pulled on the shirt that almost properly fit him.

He glanced at his better defined musculature. “Well it has to have some benefits,” he remarked as Declan pulled out again to drive to the cemetery, following the computer readout. He pulled up short, under cover of the trees as there was a lorry parked near the entrance. “Why’s there a removal lorry at a cemetery,” he asked.

“Inhabitant doesn’t like the neighbours,” Marcus replied gruffly as Declan got out a mini telescope. “Any sign of the drivers?”

“Cab’s automated,” Declan replied. No windows to look through. No identifying logos on the side.” He spoke up as the figure he’d seen in the mirror opened the door and got in. “Who does it belong to, Mr Maloney,” he asked the Raitchian detective now sitting in the back seat.


“Wondered when I’d get my first corpse,” Doctor Chizelhurst remarked drily as her nurse wheeled the bodies in, having had to bring them from the shuttle bay due to the site to site teleporter not being quite in working order and she brought them into the examination room, moving one handless feline onto the table and leaving the – whatever it was – on the gurney. “This one a short-tumblebumble,” Chizelhurst asked, before looking under the sheeting. “Wow. All wounds cauterized. Someone’s playing with a hand cannon class weapon. Hope that’s not their standard shooter.” She masked up and prepared the scalpel to drill a line down the feline’s chest.


Keila had made it to the office now, where Gretal was still at work, tipping fluid over the hard copy documents in the cupboard. The Lappinean reasoned it was the liquor they’d seen last time. Acceptable as a fire starter. The Canine bared her teeth and, after starting the fire, launched herself at Keila, claws and teeth exposed, slashing as she got close enough. Keila did her best to sidestep but, weighed down slightly by the armour, felt the Canine’s claws rip across her lower leg before she reached down, clamped her hands on Gretal’s shoulders, lifted her up and slammed her onto the table. Gretal, still looking for a fight and, Keila noted, spurred on by something she’d taken, kicked out and struck to the back of Keila’s elbow to make the giant release her grip and she flipped back up onto the table in a fighting pose, claws ready to slash, teeth ready to bite and eyes flashing insanity as the foam dribbled from her jaw. Keila rolled her eyes. She’d seen this before. As Gretal struck out, the giant backhanded her, sending her spinning to the floor. Keila moved in as she began to get up, took hold of the back of her head as she fought to turn around and slammed it into the wall Back kicks from the Canine’s feet impacted her protection in an aim to wind her but she lifted the canine up again and, this time, she put her face first through the table. No coming back this time. In the vague possibility she might be alive, Keila cuffed her before looking for the malladrin extract she knew she’d find in the bin. Drove loyal Canines to insanity and rage. And there was no coming back.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Yeah after putting someone's head through a SOLID wood table I am pretty sure they won't be alive after that. Their skull is probably cracked like a egg and their brain matter is the insides.

[Welsh Halfwit]

Well, putting her 'through' is a slight exaggeration. But, yeah, she's dead. As far as Keila knew, she was dead already.

Is it wrong of me I wanted Keila to have a fight scene?

[Amazee Dayzee]

So when a canine is exposed to this malladrin extract, it turns them into an insane and monstrous brute that makes them stronger? So basically it is what your universes version of rabies is and once infected the canine dies or has to be put out of their misery? That is hardcore and they need to find a cure for it so they don't have to be mercy-killed.

And no, its fine that you wrote her having a fight scene and its alright that it was in this chapter as it is in character for her to fight and having no trouble with bringing down anybody. Admittedly I do wonder how Hawle would do in a fight. He might not be muscular but he probably knows some moves.

[Welsh Halfwit]

30


With the fighting dying down and no sign of Koveran Matinna, Gerry chose to look through the files Keila had managed to save but couldn’t concentrate due to the corpse on the floor. She could see the foam that spoke to the mighty Lappinean telling the truth about the drastically altered brain chemistry so there had been little choice. Gerry wondered if Gretal had known she’d taken the stuff. It could be administered secretly by a boss of ill repute and switched into full gear when loyalty reached a certain level beyond the argument of discussion. “Shame,” she said, “I’d quite prefer to have her answer questions.” A sigh.

“No chance of that,” Keila confirmed. “Good job Matinna backed up his records physically.”

“Lots of criminals do. Storing everything online is dodgy. One lucky hacker gets in and…” Gerry simulated a ‘whoosh’ effect. “All your stuff is gone. You keep your active stuff somewhere safe.” She held up a document and the lens translator in her eye adjusted the text from Raitchian to galactic standard to Earth English for her. It detailed movement of trucks and lorries around the city and Gerry blinked to copy it to the store drive on the Hawkrin and left it for Tomara, moving on to the next booze soaked file.


Harrison led the way back to the hatch and put his helmet back on, now that he’d planted the first tracking device on this vehicle. It was never so much the vehicle itself that had interested him but where it had come from. This was an interstellar craft but not the sort of thing a hyper-rich conglomerate like Monta or Fawren would use. They’d have fully armed clipper or frigate type ships capable of far faster speeds and longer journeys then this thing. He could put it succinctly if he chose to. He was afraid this was pirates. They always complicated matters. They’d turned the system back on before leaving and Poynton had made sure everything pointed to no-one having been on board. She depressurised the ship before opening the doors to avoid anything being blasted out past them and damaging the suits and sealed it up whilst he attached a beryllium tracking patch to the underside of the craft, next to the engine pods, where few would look. Then they crunched back over to their shuttle, the pilot letting them in through the rear hatch. As they sat down, the pilot powered the ship up. Harrison could hear it. “I don’t much like the sound of that,” he stated after removing his helmet. “Seems a lot of stress on the engines.”

“It would be,” Poynton replied, letting her ears flop. “The heavy magnetic core doesn’t just throw scanners off. It also pulls on metal so the pilot’s having to use a lot more thrust to escape the gravity – I suppose you could say – of the rock.” She nodded to the unseen vehicle outside. “That thing’ll have even more of a time than we will due to its’ size.” She looked around. “We really should consider magnetic shielding for this sort of thing. So,” she added, trying to change the subject, “security, eh? How’d you get into that?”

“I’m Equinna,” he replied, wondering why she was changing the subject, “we’re built for it. It’s either that or heavy industry and I hated being a packhorse… Did I really just say that?”

Poynton chuckled. “Afraid you did, Harrison. Human words are slipping in all over. Apparently some have nicknamed my breed of Canid ‘Sausages’ because of the Earth equivalent? And someone’s going to have to explain that at some point.”

“Why? Just have it that Humans got the prototypes and the gods are engineers.”

She shrugged. “That works. Merciful ones. They didn’t consign the prototypes to the trash bin.” She saw the look in his eye. “Don’t,” she warned, a grin on her lips. “Our Mican Commander has an Earth Feline, you know?”

“I know. I filed a protest with the Captain as security had not been informed of the non sentient being aboard until it was aboard. Marble, it’s called.”

“I keep expecting to find it in the vents.” Poynton sighed. “Ah, well, it’s all a bit different, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Harrison agreed.


“As soon as they’re back on board,” Dane told the helm, who’d already obeyed orders to turn the ship around anyhow, “I want us away from here. Back towards the planet. We’ll tell the Militia to back off too. No sense baiting a trap if you send signals to the bear.”

“That’s offensive to Ursines,” Schole warned.

“Everything’s offensive to someone Chief. So I don’t much care. Now, either watch the readings or go repair the replication system in my office. Asked for Fish broth earlier. Got a Micannan Parfait. Vegan version.” Even Peeves cringed at that additional fact.


In the IOC office, Midnight finished accepting the files from Chizelhurst and read through the findings before talking to the ground units via, she expected, the automated relay station on the Hawkrin that would take her request, arrange the relay and open the channel within two minutes. She was, therefore, surprised when the Hawkrin answered and was astonished to see a metal Feline’s face appear on screen. “Who the F*** are you,” she called.

<“I, apparently, am Amy,”> the device replied smoothly. <“I am currently standing in for Commander Switt, who is in the toilet...”> Midnight heard someone exclaim that she shouldn’t tell people that. <“...Which, apparently, I am not supposed to tell people. It is filed.”>

There was a brief disturbance before Switt came to the screen. “I wasn’t expecting to see YOU either,” Midnight managed.

<“Yeah,”> Letitia replied, <“I get that a lot. I’m here. Deal with it. You go entertain Martin,”> she told Amy, before turning back to the screen. <“He’s here too. What do you have?”>

“Information to be relayed to Agent Gerry,” Midnight advised. “Chizelhurst has done the autopsies on the people they kindly shot to pieces. One Feline that died of shock following the explosive removal of his hand and a Canine that decided to go topless. Got facial recognition on the Feline as Drayta Kayne from Pawtri with a low level criminal record as long as the arm he still has. Rumoured to be going into the hitter for hire market last we heard. That was four years back. No note since then.” She flicked the file to the next page. “The headless legs belong to a Labran name of Ikanni Dotle. Similar record. Similarly vanished a few years back. Both of them had exposure to Darvinni Root about a week ago. Which is odd as it’s impossible to get out here.”

Letitia stared her down as Midnight smirked internally. She’d heard about this one. Knew a lot and admitted nothing was how her friend on Switts last posting had put it. She already knew the best possibility, especially considering the freighter attack they’d broken up a few days ago. But did she know she kn..? <“You can get anything at the central market on Caltimma,”> she said.

“Caltimma,” Midnight said, “I never would have thought of that.”


“Why I get the money,” Switt replied, closing the link and calling Gerry. She decided to see if she could get the android to do this soon.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Looks like Switt seems to be coming into her own here and thats good. This is a far cry from the person who dreaded being on a ship.

[Welsh Halfwit]

Oh, she still hates her job. She's just making the best of 'house arrest'.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I don't think that she is going to be hating her job for much longer. I have seen this happen several times and at the end of this it will have grown on her and she won't want to leave when she is inevitably given the option.

[Welsh Halfwit]

31


Dalton crept closer to the truck as he heard voices getting closer and tacked a tracker to the underside before dashing across to the verge as he worked out he wasn’t going to get back to the car in time. He slid down the slight embankment and hoped he was in ti… OK, he could hear them clearly now, ordering the Professor in and telling him things had changed. Or, rather, just rubbing it in as they’d told him earlier. They wouldn’t say what had spooked them and… One of them had shushed the others. Furbright’s lithe ears could hear him sniff the air and growl that someone was nearby. And it was a Lappinean.

“I think I smelled that one talking to the cops,” a second voice said.

The first voice growled “That means the IOC are here,” The growl changed to a snarl. “They came to see me earlier. According to Gretal they returned in force AND they picked up Raydak so it’s likely they’re getting reams of information.” Dalton heard a panicked squeak as, Dalton guessed the Professor was being grabbed by the shoulders or throat. “All this,” the voice threatened, “over you. Because of getting you out, my entire network is being rolled up and sold for scrap! I ought to kill you right now and cut my losses but they’re so massive right now that I may have to take passage with you.” Declan heard a thump as, presumably, the Professor was thrown in the truck. Dalton heard the creature get into the truck after slamming a door. So he was in the cab? The vehicle started off noisily and Dalton wondered about the engine augmentation sound effects employed to make an electric engine sound like a full throttle petrol engine. “You coming up,” said a voice he didn’t know. He looked up to where a Feline was holding a gun on him. “Sound effect covers everything it’s so noi…”


He was cut off as a car sideswiped him in the back, sending him flying, face first, down the incline Furbright had carefully descended, grinding his face down the incline, ripping rivulets into his face and cracking his nose on the small rocks before a stop twisted his back over his head and impacted the spine on a larger rock before he hit the bottom and lay still. Dalton didn’t know if he was dead, paralysed or just stunned so he paired the prone figure’s comm to relay signals to his before pocketing the weapon and clambering up the incline to where Maloney was getting out of the driver’s seat. “Silent but deadly,” the Detective stated..

“That’s true,” Dalton said, before his ears pricked up “I have the keys. How did you..? Do you have a hotwire program?”

“A Detective always protects his own interests,” Maloney replied, “It was prudent. Time for you to go after the truck. I’ll deal with the body.”

“Call it in,” Dalton warned. “We’ll be putting it in our reports. You might get an award. Or accreditation as an IOC associate.”

Maloney cringed. “Then they’d REALLY hate me!” The Detective slouched over to the ridge and glanced over. “Don’t recognise him off hand,” he stated before Dalton closed the car door and started off, having linked his comm to the in car system.


“You let a civilian drive,” Dalton cheeked Marcus. “He had a deliberate accident. Have you learned nothing from Castis III?”

Marcus whooped. “Hey, I was injured this time! I can’t drive! And we were civilians too, then.” He thought on that for a second as Dalton hit 55MPH on the 50MPH road to get the lorry in view visually as well as on the tracker screen. “And we’re both civilians NOW. Technically, at least.”

“True. Let’s call for backup, shall you,” Dalton asked.

Marcus called it in to the locals.


Gerry checked the digital system as their vehicle travelled at some speed towards Newbuns city and she noted the position of the other team. She’d tried calling but Marcus’s system was currently engaged and Dalton, in the same location as his partner, was driving, quite fast, on roads that weren’t rated optimal. She pulled up the dashboard input system and input a code so she could listen in to Marcus’s call on the vehicle’s speakers. “Senior agent privilege,” she told Keila as they heard Marcus make the report to the locals. “Locals,” she muttered as Marcus gave a description of the ones they’d encountered, including Matimma.

“That doesn’t explain the shuttle,” Keila mentioned, shifting up a gear.

“No,” Gerry admitted, “it doesn’t. It’s likely they’re selling him on to whomever. Which promotes a dangerous thought.” She glanced to the Lappinean. “If you hire a local crew to do the kidnap, why do you need an assault team in a velocity shuttle..?”

“You think Matimma’s lot knows about the shuttle,” Keila asked.

Gerry took a breath as the thirty miles to Newbuns sign flashed past and Keila overtook several vehicles. “I don’t know that they do,” she admitted. “They’d know that a shuttle would be involved . The assault team wouldn’t be needed for a handover.”

“Unless they are,” Keila mooted. “If I didn’t want to pay a kidnap team and cut any ties to them…”

“...you’d send in a tame strike force to eliminate them once they’ve delivered,” Gerry replied, enthused. “That works. They’d need somewhere for the exchange where Matimma feels secure.” She commed Switt. “Commander, can you look through the records and see if Koveran Matimma has any warehouses or buildings between… the capital and Newbuns or,” she added, checking where the others were headed, “within half an hour south of Newbuns.”

<“Absolutely,”> the Mican replied.

“Don’t let the android do it,” Gerry warned. “We still have no idea if anyone’s watching it remotely.” Gerry cut the line. “That might get her to do it herself,” she told Keila.


Letitia sighed and started pulling up land registry files. “Amy, you have any stories you can tell Martin? Suitable stories.”

“Affirmative,” the Android said, heading over to tell the tale of the four naughty Celicans and the clever Raitchian, one of a slew of stories she’d had programmed in when the Professor had been forced to host his nephew and niece and he had no interest in them so he’d actually had her running for several days. She’d experienced time then, hours and minutes. Offline and ontime and the nephew had been the first to call her ‘she’ because she lacked some pieces he had.

“Got it,” Switt said, not distracting Amy at all with her call as she began telling Martin the tale.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Always the sign of a wonderful family member that they have to program their android assistant to host their young relatives because they just don't want to. I am now almost 100% sure the feeling is mutual.

[Welsh Halfwit]

32


“According to Switt,” Gerry told Marcus over the comm, “they have a distribution depot ten miles north of your current position as the truck flies. It’s a small complex but it’s next to a field large enough for a shuttle to land on. Do it at night and, with the refractive paint applied, no-one would see. We’re ten minutes further out from it than you are and I’ve notified the Capital’s Police Chief so he’s getting forces underway in shuttles. But they’ll still be behind us. The Dayrin’s not in a position to assist just yet. Do what you can to stop them until we get there, guys.”


In their car, Marcus acknowledged the order and turned the comm off, cutting it from the main speaker in the car as he’d had it playing there for Dalton’s benefit. “First into the fire again, Dalton,” he mock grumbled.

“Yeah,” the Lappinean replied in humour. “But we are the young, attractive, ones. The boss’d sprain…” He reached over and disconnected the bug he’d found a moment ago, when he’d reasoned there was only one reason that Gerry could know exactly where they were. He left the tracking part on, naturally. It was tantamount to suicide to disable that. “Well, I never insulted her,” he told Marcus. “When did she plant it? I checked the car yesterday on the ship and it had no devices. The logs say she’s not been near it either so how..?” He slapped the wheel. “It’s going to irritate me until I know.”

“Can you let it irritate you when we’re not following bad guys,” Marcus asked, gesturing towards the fleeing truck and wincing at the pain it caused him.

“You sure you’re OK?

“My toes are burned and there’s a plug in my shoulder. I’m fine. I did weak hand shooting, remember?”

“Did you do weak hand punching too,” Dalton asked, half serious.

“Oh, I’m ambidextrous in most things, bro,” Agent Seelevan remarked. “As several ladies know, eh?”

Dalton grinned. “That was a wild weekend.”


<“What do you mean ‘leave the shuttle alone?”> The Militia commander almost spat the question at his viewscreen as Dane sat back in his chair and steepled his fingers.

“I mean, leave it alone,” he repeated. “Admiral, this shuttle is high end. Expensive. It’s meant to bring in a kill crew from far away. I don’t know about you but I want to know who sent it. Now, we can guess why. The Professor’s abduction. Thanks to you and the local Police, they weren’t able to move him off world quickly. They sped up their extraction plans, I think, with the arrival of my IOC team but it must be obvious to them that it’s now or never. Things are, as they say, going down. Therefore they’re either escaping to their shuttle very soon or someone else will be picking the thing up in the long run. As I say, it’s an expensive piece of kit. They need to think it’s safe to do so, Admiral.”

<“If it approaches my Dartina, I kill it.”>

“I was meaning to ask,” Dane said, genuinely curious, “Why is the world called ‘Dartina’?”

<“Simple. First colonists were onboard a ship called the Dart under Captain Ticella. They were rich but not very inventive. Named the capital after the Captain and the planet after the ship.”>

“Dare I ask about Newbuns,” Dane dared.

<“Bread factory.. Stop changing the subject. WHERE are ‘things going down’?”>

“I’ve not been in contact with my team for a little while,” Dane replied, trying to ignore Hewelstone for the moment, the Shrewvian quite obviously trying to grab his attention. “I’ll get back to you in a minute.” He cut the line, felt a sense of relief that he’d finally ended a call, steeled himself and turned towards the Communications Officer. “We HAVEN’T received a signal, have we,” he asked.

“No,”.

“You haven’t been listening in on their communications, HAVE you,” Dane demanded.

Hewelstone looked shocked. “Of course not, sir! I just… happen to know where their vehicles are headed from, uh, feeds.”

“Riiight, feeds. Work on your lying, Hewelstone.”

“The idiots right, actually,” Schole advised. “Everything that’s teleported carries some of the energy around with it for a few days. It’s miniscule amounts for biologicals using the normal teleport systems but, for mechanical constructs? They absorb the energy at a much higher level. It dissipates before it can do any real harm to the occupants but we should still be able to track it. There we are. Two locations for you. Both, seemingly, headed for one another. Shall we relay this to the Militia?”

Dane thought for a moment. “Not yet,” he decided. “Helm,” he stated, “float us just to the edge of teleport range in the middle of that area. Quietly, mind. Hewelstone, get me Switt. She’s in the Hawkrin.”


“Will this work never end,” Letitia moaned as another comm signal came through. She pushed the Alcohol Free cold beer out of the way and answered the monitor. She sat up as Dane’s face appeared and demanded to know the latest from Gerry and her crew. The Mican relayed what had been going on and what the Human had needed her to look into and could someone come and relieve her of the duties imposed on her by people who really didn’t have the remit to impose duties on her. Dane reminded her that IOC had recently got her out of a jam and that he had no-one spare so she’d just have to lump it for now and, as she was the semi-official go between, could she tell Gerry that, if the Professor was left behind, it didn’t matter if some got away in their shuttle. Letitia frowned at that but said she’d pass it along so she did. Shortly before there was a knock at the hatch.


Driving with due care and attention, Dalton went straight through the chain link gate at their destination.

[Amazee Dayzee]

When you wrote that Dalton went STRAIGHT through the chain-link fence at the end, do you mean someone opened it up for him or (more hilariously if he was driving carefully up until that point) he CRASHED through it? I'm not sure how I should take the last line.

[Welsh Halfwit]

33

Marcus held on as the car crashed through the gate, sending it flying over the bonnet and roof to crash down on the road at the rear as a gate guard, who’d been on his way out to delay them, dove to one side to avoid being hit by part of the lock. “So we’re not going for stealth, then,” he asked, readying his weapon with his wrong hand.

Dalton kept his eyes fixed on where they were headed and the group scrambling to intercept them close to the shuttle. Obviously they weren’t quite close enough or there was some sort of problem readying things because the Professor was being pushed into the covered warehouse as gunpoint, not herded into the shuttle but Dalton knew he’d have to think on that later. He had other plans right now. He licked his lips and pushed the vehicle to higher speed, aiming at one of the assailants caught in the middle of the space. He struck the figure hard with the side of the car, throwing the hoodlum to the ground as the others opened fire, the energy impacting on the side of the vehicle. “Good job the shell’s energy resistant,” he told Marcus.

“Good job you knew that,” Marcus replied. “Do you know how long it’ll last?”

“Against this lot,” the steel eyed driver commented, aiming for a second, who was taking cover behind a number of crates, “and without knowing what’s in these crates,” he continued, making Marcus fear for his life, “...about five minutes!”

The car crashed through the crates, sending machine parts everywhere as the bonnet crumpled under impact , setting off the airbags that softened the crash as far as the agents were concerned, meaning they only broke teeth as they were flung forward and painful whiplash as the belts restrained them, almost making Marcus pass out as Dalton powered down his window to aim at the shuttle from relatively close range as the Celican under the crates stopped moving. He fired a long beam, cutting a hole in the hull of the shuttle’s cockpit as more fire lit into the front of the vehicle. “They’re going to … ack… flank us,” Marcus grimaced, realising he had a nose bleed and spitting blood from a fractured tooth. “Any… thoughts?”

“Hope back up is close,” Dalton replied as Marcus brought his window down a crack to fire on the encroaching opponents.


Keila indicated left, off the main road between the cities, and pushed the accelerator down as it had become obvious that the other’s car had stopped and she was afraid for them, making Gerry hang on as they sped around bends, barely holding to the road. “Careful, Keila,” the senior agent reminded her, “we’re no good to them crashed in a ditch.”

“They’re not much good dead either, boss,” Keila protested. “Five miles. Might as well be twenty…”


The fight continued, Dalton and Marcus keeping the opposition back from the shuttle but pinned in the car, which was rapidly losing its’ armour. “Got any cover grenades on you,” Marcus asked as a bolt of energy came in through the gap hed had to open so he could fire out. The glass armour was registering at fifteen precent, according to the damage monitor on the dash.

“No,” Dalton replied, “I keep drones in my pocket, not high explosive.” He paused as another shot thumped the plating.

“Do we have a hidden machine gun under the middle control system?”

“This is not a superhero film.” Dalton removed his belt, leaned forward so he could stick his hand out of the side window and twist it around the corner to fire in roughly the same direction as Marcus. The damage detection system kept recording the drop in armour.


A new vehicle pulled up and Marcus almost cheered as he saw four armed people getting out. Surely the police were here to..? He kept the cheer down as the occupants ran into the warehouse to join the others, unimpeded by the hoodlums. Not here to help them, then? Sirens cut across the energy fire now, the keening wail sounding clear in the encroaching distance as several of Newbuns finest crashed across the ruined gate, almost getting it caught under their vehicles. The vehicles swung in close to Dalton and the Lappinean ducked as a shot went perilously close. The occupants of the first vehicles git out as an armoured van put itself in the way of the incoming fire, having disgorged its special weapons team by the gate. “Need help, Rabbit,” Tsynan snapped lightly, taking cover behind his vehicle.

“We’ll take it,” Dalton replied, unwilling to say the Canine was the best thing he’d seen that day. “Provided you ARE on our side,” he added, leaving the car to get to the better weapons in the boot.

“We’re not ALL corrupt,” Tsynan replied angrily, “no matter WHAT Maloney thinks! Though we had suspicions about a few Officers. Now confirmed, I think.” He activated the address system in his car, looking to gain their attention as the armoured police moved up. “This is Newbuns Police Department,” he snapped archly. “Surrender immediately! You are surrounded! There’s no getting away this time, You’re uncovered, Officer Yarrick! And Vale! We have enough to charge you both with conspiracy and corruption now, to say nothing of the charges against Koveran that have just been confirmed by the president!”

“You’re signing a lot of death warrants,” Dalton mused.

Tsynan covered the comm. “I’m saying a lot of what I need to keep their attention on ME and not on the assault team, Rabbit! And, if it happens that they start shooting each other before we even go in, that’s just less people trying to kill my people, isn’t it?”

Dalton thought Gerry would argue with that. He wasn’t sure he could as he joined the Canine behind cover, Marcus getting the armour from the boot for them before a rocket blasted the armoured truck. “Good job they didn’t start with that,” Dalton remarked, donning the armour, activating the force field and running to join the assault before Marcus could get his on properly. The Celican rolled his eyes, looked at the Canine imploringly and, after help, joined in the assault.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Yeah if they started with that then there wouldn't have been a fight to begin with as the rocket would have killed them outright. Would have made things easier for them to get Dalton and Marcus out of the way but of course since they are the bad guys they didn't think about that. LOL

[Welsh Halfwit]

34


Marcus pulled Dalton into cover before an assailant he’d not seen put a shot through his ears from the upper level. There was no sense working the force field without reason. Just in case it failed. “Do I have to buy you a drink now,” Dalton asked with a grin.

“I believe it’s mandatory,” Marcus replied as one of the Newbuns police shot Dalton’s assailant with a stun weapon. “But I can’t drive so I need you in one piece. Shouldn’t we let the locals do the worst stuff?” He shook his head. “Forget I said that. Stresses of the day.”

“You have been shot and you’re dosed up,” Dalton agreed, firing over his friends’ shoulder, narrowly hitting one of the newer assailants in the side. The agent didn’t know who they were as they didn’t appear to be locals but, then, not all the Police were Feline or Raitchian so there was the possibility but there was also the chance they were a hit team. There were four of them, which was, now he came to think of it, the number that were left of the group that had come to the house.


Aboard the Dayrin, Midnight sat up. She’d been working in conjunction with the lead computer specialist in the lab on deck three to find out what was stored in Professor Marin’s safe room systems and it finally looked like they’d found something. A galnet Starcloud link hidden in a file about the benefits of Artificial Intelligence that hadn’t made much sense as it was about ninety percent anti-AI and there was the link, hidden in a dot. It was protected by passcodes and biometrics that they were currently halfway through. They appeared to be scientific formulas but that hadn’t narrowed it down much, given who the professor was.


“So why did they go back to the house to search the safe room if they’d hidden in there whilst the police searched,” Keila asked as they headed down the country road at speeds that would have a racing driver turning green. “Unless the Professor didn’t tell them anything.”

“Or if it wasn’t the same people,” Gerry thought aloud. “Say, for example, Matinna grabs him for them but, before he can get him away, the police arrive…”

“Or he decides the safe room is a smart place to stash the Professor as no-one knows it exists and no-one’s searching inside their perimeter for someone who’s obviously trying to get away.”

“Possible,” Gerry conceded. “but, either way, they leave after the Police. Enough to move the Professor to Newbuns – what a name – and, after they did, the other lot came looking. See what the first lot hadn’t found. Still have things to answer, though.”

“Like what,” Keila stated, just avoiding an elderly pair in a small hover vehicle coming the other way.

“Stop!” Gerry ordered and Keila stomped the brake hand, almost throwing the vehicle over it’s axle and both occupants into the windscreen. “I’ll feel that in the morning,” Gerry added, grabbing the medical pack from the back and pushing open her door as Keila opened her mouth to ask what had happened. She didn’t say it, though, as she could see it in her mirror. The other car was in a ditch to the side of the road.


Gerry jumped into the dry ditch and wished she hadn’t as she landed. She was built for comfort, not gymnastics and she felt something react that she ignored as she reached for the driver’s door and finding it locked, used her override to unlock the system and open it for the elderly Raichian driver. “You were going way too fast,” he stated, more woozy than angry after impacting the airbag in the car.

“Yeah,” Gerry agreed, as she couldn’t really disagree. “Responding to an emergency. Lights and sirens going and Newbuns Police were supposed to have the other end sealed off. They said they were dispatching a car.” She used the medical kit to check on the old female. “She’s OK, by the way. According to this al vitals are fine. Sweetstalk,” she called, “Comm for an ambulance and rescue kit.”

“We can do better than that, boss,” Keila remarked as a shadow passed over her. She looked up and put her hand above her eyes to cut out the descending sun. “What the..?” she asked as Gerry’s own comm beeped.


“Wonder what’s keeping the boss,” Dalton asked, following a block of big police officers into the far offices. The computers in here were off, as they were for the rest of the location following the cutting of the power but Dalton’s sensitive ears could feel a humming. Something, it seemed, was still online. A generator at least. He followed it into the next room and behind the office case and powered it down fifty percent. They needed to know what it was powering before he fully shut it off. He already had an idea, based on the fact it wasn’t powering anything else but…

“Got summat here you need to see, Daltz,” Marcus called from the next room along. The Lappinean made his way past a dead Feline, hanging over the railing above the loading dock. His gun had fallen from his hand and a badge that irentified him as Newbuns PD hung loosely from his belt. He was only wearing light armour though, so wasn’t one of the people the agents had joind. Possibly one of the local corrupt types? He stepped in and saw that he was, indeed, right.


“A computer linked up to an emergency teleport control,” Dalton remarked, stepping around it. “Short range so they won’t have gone too far so… the shuttle,” he snapped, dashing to the window to look on where the shuttle… still was? He chuckled. “That’s a turn up for the books,” he told Marcus.


Outside, the shuttle was still parked. Because it couldn’t go up whilst the airspace above it was occupied by the Hawkrin.


Gerry, after adjusting the driving seat, started the pick up truck up slowly, putting strain on the retractable chain attached to the rear, and the hook attached to the old couple’s car. The wife was standing on the side of the road with her husband now and they both gaped as Keila reached down and began pulling and pushing their car back up. “Lucky,” the Lappinean strained, “it’s… only… a compact!” She reached the position where, between herself and Gerry, the vehicle was far enough up that she could use her prodigious strength to put the machine on her shoulder and use that as a launchpad to get it far enough up that the winch was able to do the rest by itself and she left it to it, jumping up into the road.

“Thank you,” the male said, seemingly unwilling to point out it was her fault anyhow.

“Any damages or bills,” Gerry stated, offering a card as Keila unhooked the hook, “refer them to us.”


“I bet they pad the bills,” Keila grumbled, readjusting the seat so she could get in.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Can't imagine that any of the bills that end up getting sent are very cheap and happen rarely from what I got from everything. So they must have have a LOT of money for to pay for all of it.

[Welsh Halfwit]

I had considered this to be closing out the tale.

But, not so. Yet.

And, yes, Amy IS doing a C3PO.

35


Gerry checked Dalton and Marcus over. A little like a mother hen, as Keila manoeuvred Matinna into the Hawkrin’s single cell as Switt took command of making sure the Professor was kept kept safe. The cell wasn’t exactly sumptuous as it was pretty much just two seats next to each other. One was a seat for sitting and the other was plumbed in. She sat the cuffed individual down on the correct seat, stepped back out of the tiny cubicle and closed the door. The glass auto frosted and the sound dampeners cut off his verbal assault as he started calling about how he’d kill th… The room fell into silence. They could still see him moving behind the door, though. Keila stepped back into the main office, that already seemed cramped with Martin, the A.I., the Professor and Letitia in there. “Professor’s a bit concerned,” Letitia said. “Seems Amy – that’s what we’ve termed the A.I. by the way,” she explained to Markin, “isn’t accepting his orders.”

“Ah, yeah,” Keila said, “we had to override all university and sponsor codes to prevent sabotage, Commander. None of their commands work right now.”

“But…” the Professor sputtered, “but this is my assistant! You took it from my office!” He waved at the android that was clearly ignoring him whilst relating a story from the archives to Martin. Amy added special effects to help his imagination. Keila figured out she was telling a story from ‘Star tours’ or something similar. “It’s an invasion of privacy!”

“Oh, it’s far more than that,” Gerry announced, walking in from the car docking area. She pulled off her gloves and slapped them on her desk, next to where Letitia was sat. “Still, good to have you safe, Professor. I’m IOC senior agent Evangeline Gerry. This is Agent Keila Sweetstalks. That is USC commander Letitia Switt. That’s… a child and I believe you already know Amy.”

“Stupid name,” the Professor groused, “giving it to an automaton. IOC? What office?”

“Dayrin,” Gerry said, grinning inwardly at what she knew had to be his response.

“Never heard of it,” the Professor flapped. “Kindly get out of my way. I’ll deal with the local Police.”

“No, you’ll deal with us, Professor,” Gerry snapped as Marcus and Dalton entered. “Commander,” she stated, “care to tell him where you serve?”

“Reluctantly,” Switt said. “Sorry, that’s HOW I serve. Where is the U.S.C. Dayrin.”

“We’re a movable unit,” Gerry translated. “Shipbound. We go where there is no stationary team nearby. We’re new but we’re going to be making waves. So we’ll be doing the debrief but we’ll do it at Newbuns Police station.” She stepped past as Markin wondered where to sit and made her way to the cockpit.

“Hitching a ride,” she told the pilot, who hid his shopping behind the seat.

“It seemed sensible when I got back to the Police Station. The Dayrin was out of contact range and I saw both shuttles were here so I asked about Switt and found out she’d been arrested.”

Gerry put a finger to his nose. “Helping locals with their enquiries if anyone asks.” She strapped up after sitting. “Newbuns Police station, please.”


There was just enough space for the craft in the parking area and the pilot gave them five minutes warning before he lifted off and brought the mighty shuttle down. Gerry then showed her ident card as she and Furbright took the Professor and the mobster into interrogation. Sat in the first room, with Matinna in holding, Markin expounded on the story that that he had, detailing his kidnapping from the so-called safe house and the fact they kept him in the panic room until after the Police had been to throw them off the scent as they knew there would be a search of the area and then they moved him to the mausoleum and kept him there until they felt it was safe to move him to their masters…

“It must have been such a surprise to you when Matinna’s people grabbed you,” Gerry said consolingly.

“It most certainly was,” Markin agreed, opening his mouth to say more.

“After all,” Gerry continued quickly, “you were sure it was going to be the Monta team.” She sat back as he looked bewildered. “We found the communications in your logs. Deleted, of course, but they happened to match the same deletion times as the local Monta rep has on file. What YOU didn’t know, of course,” she continued, “is that Doctor Havall was spying on you for Matinna. Everything you did in the safe house had a copy routed to him.” She put her hands behind her head. “We have those copies. Seems Havall’s wanting as light a sentence as he can get. He’ll lose tenure, of course. But this is all on you.” She turned to Dalton. “You note how he’s not mentioning Officer Blackpool even once during this incident?”

“I had noticed, yeah,” Dalton mused, realising that he hadn’t noted it.

“Morrissey was dead,” the Professor started. “What’s there to say?”

“They arrived, shot him dead after the alarm was raised and then hid in the escape room until the police had gone.”

“We’ve been over this…”

“He was dead three hours before the alarm was raised, Professor!” Gerry declared loudly. “Dartina’s CMO confirms it so the timings don’t add up! What I think is that Matinna co-opted your escape plan for themselves and moved events up a day. Monta were supposed to signal you to knock out the cameras around the house from your secure room. Which you did when Matinna sent you it. Which left Blackpool, didn’t it? Just him. Was he going to check the security at the front when you shot him, Professor?”

“I never…”

“A clip blaster, I assume. Small enough to hide somewhere unpleasant. Did you know they can tell is someone’s shot from the front or behind? The energy pushes through, you see? It takes the fabric and the fur with it before it seals into the flesh and wound in the direction of travel. Which is how we know Blackpool was shot from the stairs behind him. By you.”

“I think I need my lawyer.”

“Quite probably,” Dalton added. “But you left information on your computer in the safe room. Which is why Monta turned up there the next day and almost killed my partner and myself. That connects you to terrorism.”

“Hmm,” Gerry admitted. Better be a really good lawyer.” She sighed. “Then again, I really don’t care. Turns out none of this is my jurisdiction.”

“Pardon,” Dalton said, not sure he’d heard straight.

“Locals killing locals isn’t our job,” Gerry reminded him. “We hunt the crossed borders. The interplanetary criminals and threats. We were brought in because he had to be smuggled off world, Dalton. Seems that’s not actually the case. This is a local issue.”

“Then I’m leaving,” the Professor stated, standing up as the local Police Chief entered the room.

“I doubt it,” Gerry said before the Chief directed one of her Officers to caution the Professor. “You killed one of their own. I think they’d like to thank you for that.” She nodded to Dalton. “Let’s go h… back to the ship. Do the reports from there.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Looks like the professor's goose is cooked here because there is not a lawyer in the world that can get him out of this easily. He can only make a deal in order to get less time (or if the death penalty is legal to spare his life.)

[Welsh Halfwit]

36


“Do we get to call this a success,” Dane asked Gerry as he sat in his office, facing her across the desk as she stood, hands behind her back. “We managed to get one of our agents shot, solved a number of crimes for the locals and made sure our victim was arrested for murder. Oh, and my second-in-command managed to get herself picked up for a punch up in a department store.”

Gerry considered her words, even though she was sure he was just playing devil’s advocate. “I’d have to say yes. Midnight and your computer teams found the hidden plans so they’ll be made available to the Council via some sort of leak. Which will probably happen. We’ve given them credit for the assistance during the situation and didn’t draw any attention to the fact it happened under their noses. We’ve established some positive links with the Police here and we’re looking after a vulnerable person for them.”

Dane grumbled. “Yes, I heard about that. We’re helping with the interstellar aspect of that?”

“Absolutely. We’re looking into the ‘adoption agency’ on Calderon that they used to facilitate the ‘adoption’ and we’ve made introductions between Dartina and Galsettia as well. They’ll work together but they might ask us to intercede if things don’t get done.”

“Have you seen the video of the fight?”

Gerry started. “There’s a video? Who am I kidding? It was public. Of course there’s video.”

Dane pushed the monitor around so Gerry could see her kidney punching the Raitchian and hammering the back of his neck when he doubled over before flipping him into a standing unit of clothes and being held back after stamping on his nose. “Unorthodox, impressive and likely to get her disciplined if it weren’t for the fact she’s clearly protecting him. I have to decide on discipline.” He looked up. “Is the investigation concluded?”

“I don’t think so,” Gerry mooted. “The issue with the shuttle notwithstanding, we still know that at least one of the teams came through Caltimma and the market there. It’s too thin for the locals to look into it but we can. We have the results of Chizelhurst’s autopsy so we have the guys idents. We can check their systems to see if we can find him. It’ll also raise our profile a bit more…”

“We can’t keep doing things to raise our profile, Evangeline,” Dane warned, knowing he was going to order the course anyhow. “Command’s going to want us to solve cases, not solve other people’s cases. But not today,” he continued, sitting up and turning off his computer. “For today, we’ve done what was needed. Harrison’s bug is planted so we’ll know whenever someone comes for that shuttle, even if we’re half a sector away. Has he spoken to you of his concerns?”

“Pirates? Hmm,” Gerry conceded. “He has a point. Monta or Raicarra would probably have used much more sophisticated and subtle ways to get the Professor out but, if they hired a crew, it’s just possible they’d use what’s a top of the line shuttle to them and a clunker to the conglomerates. We need to find if there’s a link.”

“Good job I have Hewelstone listening in to the comms to and from Harray Ralby’s office then, isn’t it?” Dane looked at the slightly shocked expression dawning on Gerry’s face. “Oh, we won’t be able to use much of it in court,” he admitted, “but it’d still be useful to know.”

“I can’t know about this,” Gerry insisted, backing away. “You really shouldn’t have told me, Commander. It’s…”

“Relax,” Dane said, breaking into a grin, “you’re not the only one who can make a phone call. A colonial judge signed off on it. Good to see your reaction though.”

“You’re a *^&$”^%,” Gerry commented.

“Yup,” Dane replied.



Swizelhurst put her hand on Marcus’s chest as the Celican tried to get up off the bed. “It’ll be so much easier to keep squirmy giys like you in one place when I get the beds with restraint fields. You’re not moving yet, Agent Seelevan. I’ve not checked over the work done to your shoulder, let alone checked the burns to your toes. For all I know you got dealt with by incompetent imbeciles who jacked you to the eyeballs on painkillers.”

“I just… don’t like hospitals,” Marcus replied.

“Let me guess, you’ve seen people come in and not go out? Happens with every hospital but ninety percent leave. And most of those wouldn’t survive if you didn’t have hospitals, nit! Now lie down or I’ll have Harrison restrain you!”

Marcus lay back and let the Doctor run her scans over his wounds. She looked up at the monitors that he couldn’t see and grumbled to herself. “Is that a good grumble or a bad grumble,” Marcus asked.

“It’s a ‘you’ve irritated me, shut up’ grumble,” the elder Raitchian groused. “Seems the Doctor’s weren’t total incompetents. Some might even call them good. The patch up work is good, although I think they went a bit whack happy on the pain killers. You’re getting less of them from now one.” She moved on to the feet. “How do these feel,” she asked, looking at the blackened toe pads.

“They’re fine,” Marcus lied.

Swizlehurst prodded one with a pointer and Marcus jerked the foot back on reflex. “Don’t lie to me, idiot,” she told him.


Amy sat with her input port open and Keila watching over as the cyber techs ran her through a debugging program to wipe out any programmes that would relay data to anyone like Monta or Raicarra or Fawren or anyone else, including the Dartina faculty now that she’d been given to the IOC on a permanent loan as, for some strange reason, they were having personnel problems. That wasn’t why the Lappinean was here, though. Amy had asked for her, pulling her away from the repair bay, where she’d been planning to fix up Dalton and Marcus’s car. She was touched by the fact the Android seemed to trust her so she pitied the geek who made her act…


Marble jumped up onto Martin’s lap as Letitia held him quietly and he cried as the ship moved towards it’s next destination.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I did thoroughly enjoy this chapter and how you had it come out. I can't wait to see what is next from you!

[Welsh Halfwit]

37


Dalton groaned and slipped forward on his desk after he finished writing up his action reports in the IOC office and sending it to file before Midnight put her hand on his shoulder. His left ear twitched. “Mission reports suck,” he complained to the desk as she squeezed his shoulder.

“I hear it gets easier over time,” Midnight reported, having only had to spend half an hour on her own reports. “Where’s Marcus, by the way?”

Dalton looked up blearily over the desk to where his partner had been an hour ago and blinked. “Probably sleeping with…” He wheeled a finger in the air as he tried to recall the name. “Coran.”

Midnight scoffed. “The Flight leader?” Dalton hmmed and stuck a thumb up in the air. “What does Agent Gerry think of that? Considering he might need to investigate her at some point?”

“It’s not banned,” He raised his head again. “Besides, what did they think would happen? Males are males and females females.”

“I’m of the sort that thinks a mate is for life,” Midnight said, helping the exhausted agent up. “Time to put you to bed,”she said. “Don’t think like that,” she continued as he looked at her in surprise. “I meant what I said. This is just making sure you get to your room.”

“It’s only nine,” Dalton drawled.

“On Dartina,” she counselled, “perhaps. It’s one in the morning, ship time.”

“OK, mum,” Dalton replied, determined not to lean on her much, despite the fact he was knee tremblingly tired. He helped her turn the room off and secure it before walking beside the Cubanan to his room


Schole looked down from the ceiling, where he was working on a malfunctioning illumination panel and told the pair not to be stupid enough to walk under where he was working. “But my room’s down that way,” Dalton told the ceiling mounted Jondahl, his toolbelt hanging down and his shoes attached so his toe claws could reverse grip the edges of the plating.

“Down there,” Schole replied, pointing to a corridor behind them to the left. “First left. Left again and it comes out down there.” He gripped on with a hand and pointed with a foot.

“Seems a drag,” Midnight mooted.

“More’va drag if a tool drops on your head,” Hannay Schole countered.

“Might I be of assistance,” a calm, artificial voice asked before Amy stepped forward from around the corner. “I can hold my hands up overhead and protect heads from tools.”

Schole quirked his head to look at the incomer. “Heard of you. The new fake, isn’t it?”

Amy’s neck whirred quietly as she angled her metal head up to face the rude engineer. “I am not fake in that I am real, Lieutenant Commander,”

“I can see that,” Schole replied, finishing his work and jumping down as Dalton and Midnight headed on. “But you’re not real are you? Just a mass of circuits and metals and electrical impulses that resemble a being.”

“I can admit to that being the truth,” Amy said patiently. “Being that you have just described most life forms.”

“But you don’t have feelings as such, do you,” Schole asked, walking around the metal feline and noting they’d even given her a simulated tail.

“I do not have the negative feelings,” she replied, not moving around to watch him. “But I can gather an understanding of them by watching others. For which you may consider yourself lucky.”

“Why’s that,” Schole asked.

“Because I believe that, if I did have negative emotions and the ability to act on them, I would have slapped you by now. And I can slap very hard.”

Schole looked her in the face for a moment, seemingly shocked, before he broke into a bright smile. “Then there’s no sense insulting you if you can’t get annoyed.” He put his shoes back on. “Should you be up at this hour,” he asked. “I mean you work with that lot, don’t you?”

Amy examined him, recording how he put on the footwear as though it was the first time she’d seen someone do it for real. “I work with the IOC, yes. But I am not bound by their hours. I can operate for longer than any carbon based agent and only need recharging for three hours per day.”

“You need to take those when you can,” Schole warned. “You could get called into action at any time. Help them out for any reason. You really want to risk being on 10 percent when they ask you?”

Amy considered. “I suppose not. I wish to acquaint myself with the ship layout though.”

“It’ll still be here in four hours.”

Amy started off towards her room before pausing and looking back. “Do you promise,” she asked brightly.

Schole chuckled.


Letitia tried not to doze off on the bridge, with the night shift in full rotation and the Canine Malamute Lieutenant Kirin as her second officer. He prodded her with the ruler she’d given him to wake her to her punishment from Dana. After a long day, she was taking a long night, headed towards the Caltimma markets, still some fifteen hours away, even at velocity three. “Uh,” she said, quickly remembering where she was as the fires of consciousness lit back into full flame and she snorted up mucus in her nose.

“You will sleep well in the morning,” Kirin said softly, indirectly indicating that the other stations on the bridge most certainly had NOT heard the discussion.

“Longer day than normal,” she grumped, sitting up and adjusting the chair. “No distractions coming in,” she asked. “No plagues, distress calls, urgent need for office managers anywhere?”

“No, no and I never heard that,” Kirin told her.

“Good. I need coffee. You have the bridge. Send someone to get me in five.” She stood and shuffled off the bridge to go to the closest refreshment area, forgetting Schole hadn’t manage to fix it yet.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I'm imagining now Letitia trying to get something only for it to squirt out all over her if the kiosk hadn't been fixed yet. If it is a hot spray hopefully it won't be too bad that it causes her to get scald.

[Welsh Halfwit]

38


“So,” Dane asked as Gerry prepared to brief him on what was to happen next, “what are you plans for Caltimma? You have anyone you’re looking for?”

Gerry, sat down in her office, stared at him blankly through the screen. <“We always have ideas who we’re looking for,”> she replied, <”They just don’t always turn out to be what we find. In this case it’s this guy,”> she added, pulling up the picture of a low set Wolven, with a practically beetle style brow of black fur that ran across the tops of his eyes and punctuated the grey and brown rur of the rest of his face. <“Dolar Scheen,”> Gerry stated. <“Runs a legitimate import/export business and rumoured to run an ILlegitimate one too. Amongst his legit imports? The Darvinni root Chizelhurst found. It’s shipped out to the local high end restaurants and hotels.”>

Dane chuckled. “They HAVE high end restaurants out here?”

<“Every colony’s got chefs retiring on their name or trying to make theirs, Commander. I’ll have to take you to Chizwicks on Haldana someday. Feline/Earth fuson.”>

“Both planets have a lot of fish. How will you approach him?”

<“Honestly, probably. Could do with someone going into the broader, open, marketplace, though.”>

“Swizelhurst has put Seelevan on medical rest for 48hrs,”. Dean mused. “That leaves Furbright and Sweetstalk.”

<“And I don’t want to use Keila on something like this. The reactions of those you meet might just be affected by the nine foot tall Lappinean tank in the room. She’s with me.”> Dane heard someone complain that they were only eight feet, ten inches.

“And you can’t have BrightFur… dang it, now I’M doing it! Furbright down there alone, wandering around the market with those lenses in.” Dane slapped his thigh in mock schock as he prepared to offer a solution that she wanted him to offer as though she’d never asked and it had all been his idea. “I’ll go with him!” Gerry put on her best surprised face and Dane thought she looked like a shocked puff fish. “It’s the only idea, Agent Gerry,” he continued, cutting across the required protestations that she was going to make but not mean. “There are a few things I’d like to find for my quarters anyhow. Hewelstone can come with us. He keeps saying he needs his console working better. Perhaps he can pick up spare parts? I’ll be ready to go in thirty.”

<“We don’t arrive for two hours.”>

“Then I’ll have time to get washed and dressed, then, won’t I?” He clicked off the vid and got out of bed for a shower.


Dane Stepped out in casual clothes, fit for a Caltimman summer day. Light shorts that came down, almost to his knees and left plenty of his black fur legs exposed, down to the training shoes with the metal caps that meant his claws wouldn’t burst them by accident and the in shoe socks that barely protruded from the shoe. He wore a simple blue and red top and a smile on his face as the crew turned to look at him, either in admiration or amusement. Harrison stepped into line. “So you weren’t kidding,”

“Nope, indeed I was not. You have objections,” Dane asked, sidestepping a technician.

“Some,” the Equinna agreed. “For one thing the Captain’s supposed to remain on the bridge and send the first Officer down.”

“That’s Switt and she went last time. I’m only going to look around a market, Harrison.”

“The local hive of spies, conpeople and villains. Switt got into a fight in a department store, sir. I need to go with you.”

Dane stopped. “Not a chance, Harrison. For the same reason Sweetstalk isn’t going. You’re nine feet in height and built like a fricken Assault Personnel Carrier. We’re trying to look unthreatening and we’ll be taking personal forcefields and clip weapons. We will be fine.”

“Famous last words,” Harrison grumbled.

“Not likely,” Dane replied, somewhat bored of the conversation.


“You ready to take command, Lieutenant Commander,” he demanded as he arrived on the bridge.

“I believe so,” Letitia answered. “So long as nothing happens.”

“It won’t,” Dane declared, tapping his commlink’s code into Hewelstone’s console. As the Shrewvian’s stand in shifted out of the way. “You’ll be able to track my comms in-ear engrams from here.”

Switt nodded. They’d gone to in ear tracking engrams last year, rather than the comm itself being the traceable part. This was to do with the fact that comms could be removed and thrown away whereas, generally, ears couldn’t be. And they were keeping it quiet as they didn’t want people to start working on that… “Have you checked your back story yet,” Switt asked with a grin.

“My what,” Dane asked.


He looked the information over on the pad as Furbright waited to one side and swallowed. “I’m a buyer for a Mican restaurateur? Why am I the buyer?”

“Because I’m the financier,” Dalton replied lithely. “I’m in partnership with Cedar Kirkwall, an up and coming chef looking to open his first restaurant on Meeca. It’s just near enough to be viable but far enough away that they won’t immediately be able to find out there’s no building. So the only way to check on us is to call Kirkwall. He’s been made aware of this and he’s happy to assist.”

“And I’m the buyer because..?” Dane swung his hands up and clapped them back to this thighs. “I don’t have the greatest skills in this.”

Dalton pointed to himself. “Vegan who might die if I ingest meat.” He pointed to the Commander. “Obligate Carnivore who won’t die if they eat vegetables.”

“Fair,” Dane conceded as Switt announced they were entering orbit. “Thank you Commander,” he said before turning the comm off. “We’re here,” he told Dalton, before heading out. “You really haven’t been tested for the meat thing,” he asked.

“Never come up,” Dalton replied.


The quintet teleported down.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Probably would be a good idea for Dalton to be tested for the possibility of meat being lethal to him. Or at least how much meat would be because I can see a possible assassination attempt by somebody through slipping trace amounts of meat into something.