THE LOPER:- The Chase

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THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

One.

The evening was in full swing in Ray city, southern administration town of Cora II and the usual festivities were in their usual swing, with restaurants and bars open for business, making coin from all the local villages and towns around closing at roughly six O’Clock when Ray stayed alive for hours after. The shops and amusements drew in families. The bars drew in flies. The MacAddam bar was one of those. A popular bar with the locals, it was owned by a Canid who was straight out of Inverness, his folks having set up home there fifty years ago on a whim. He’d tried moving back to Cana but he was too Human influenced for them and too Canid for Earth, even though he liked both places as a home, so he’d come out here, to the wild west, where he could put his catering qualifications to use. It was a decent life, full of calm and occasional fights.


Tonight, Marek had decided, was going to be one of those nights. The group had come in via their own shuttle, that was parked up outside and double locked against joy riders. The multi-species group wasn’t a local one, he knew that. Lappineans, Celicans, Raitchians and Felines often hung out together but not in this sort of grouping. He smirked as to how his mother might have said the sing-a-long singer was ‘strangling the cat’ as she mangled ‘Keep right on ‘til the end of the road’ and he wondered why she’d chosen that tune from the millions available but she was a BIG feline and she’d sunk six pints so he wasn’t going to argue the toss as long as the tab was paid.

The male Lappinean of the group was making his way through the throng now, looking to pay his round, it seemed. He tapped on the table and Marek turned to him over the counter. “Yuir lassie kin suir chug the suds, heh?”

The Lappinean frowned for a few seconds before replying, as though checking his ears were working. “What,” he asked, almost totally confused.

Marek went over it again with his head and worked out his own, personal, translation from Scot to standard English for translation into standard. It sometimes hurt his head to think about it. “I was sayin’ your big lady can certainly drink,” he said.

“Oh, yeah,” the Lappinean replied, wincing as the Feline hit a high note, “she can certainly do that.” He placed his order for two Star-lancers, A beer pint, a vegan grassblaster and a pair of light bloodales. It was the third run so far.

Marek had a feeling the celebration was to do with the male Celican but… It wss time to ask. “Y’ here cel’bratin’?”

The Lappinean blinked but worked through what had been asked. “Oh, yeah.” He pointed to the large Celican who, incongruously, was wearing more than shorts. Quite where the big guy had found a flower shirt his size in so many colours Marek didn’t know and it probably didn’t matter. “His wife just had their first child. And,” the Lappinean added, taking a sip from his grassblaster, “the last he’s ever having with her. So, instead of wetting the cit’s head, we decided to drown him in alcohol instead. Tradition, don’chaknow?”

“Has ta be one somewhere, aye,” Marek agreed. “But I ken ye’ve taken an anti-vom tab? Noted ye’re knocin’ ‘em back tae.”

“Do you come with a translation app,” The Lappinean laughed. “And yeah,” he added, paying the bill, “I’ve taken one. Had to.”

“Ah,” Marek guessed, “dessie driv’r?”

“Nope,” he returned, “although I am. I’m their Captain!” He winked and, after gathering the drinks – and a new grassblaster for himself – headed over to the table.


Commander Aldair Hawle, Captain of the U.S.C. Frigate LOPER, handed out the drinks to most of his senior Officers. He placed the beer down for the current songstress, Burman Feline Commander Raven, The Star-Lancers for Raitchian flight leader Maze Hardy and Racon Second Officer Stikka and the bloodales for the two Celican Engineers. The second in command of the Engineering section, the silver Vixen Katara, chose to raise the glass as Maze had done the last time and Hawle himself had done the first. “To Karlavan Groal,” she said her voice slightly slurred by the effects of the orange liquid in her glass and the two it had been in earlier, “to Salla Groal and to Shamtar Groal.”

“Samnar,” Groal corrected her, even though he wasn’t that sure how it was spelled right now himself. “He’ll be known as Sham.”

“Sam, you mean,” Hawle asked. As the only sober person at the table, he felt he should know. Especially since Groal, one of his oldest friends who never appreciated the name Karlavan unless said by his bride, had copied the slurring of the first part of the name. Celicans often cut off part of the first name to something preferred. He didn’t know why. The Captain was also quite thankful the bartender hadn’t asked why they were out so far from the city and the spaceport. The reason was two fold.

The first reason was that, with the exception of Maze – who wasn’t interested in babies – and Katara who was Groals’ wing ‘man’ in things, the other ladies of his life were currently fussing over Salla and Sam at their place and had made it quite clear that the males weren’t allowed back for several hours so they’d needed to hit the bars. The OTHER reason they were out this far was that Commander Raven was barred from every bar in the Colonial Capital and, if he didn’t want her – and, by extension, everyone else in the party - barred from here, he might have to go deal with her soon. She was getting drunk and now she was hearing the boos for her singing as she finished the tune she only knew because it was her soccer team’s anthem of the last few centuries and she tended to sing it on match days. Only not so close to a microphone.

He jumped from his table up to the stage and landed close to where the powerful Feline was just about to pick up the microphone stand and use it to brain an Equinna. “Sarina,” he warned, “he probably couldn’t appreciate your dulcet tones because he’s drunk.”

“My WHAT tones,” She growled.

“Dulcet. It means ‘nice’, melodious.”

“Her WHAT,” the Equinna contributed, clearly ready to engage the Burman in a fight. He stepped up to the stage and cast Commander Hawle into shadow. “Her voice sounded like a cat clawing its way through a concrete handbag,” he drawled, clearly thinking himself funny.

Hawle sighed as he saw the anger on Raven’s face. He hoped the Equinna didn’t have friends. “Might as well be damned for a Hawk than a Dove,” he said quietly as the barman tried to assert order. He saw the shadow of the Equinna loom larger as Raven shucked her claws.

He wheeled on his left foot and, using all his power, drove a fist into the Equinna’s groin. The effect sent a bolt of pain up from his fingerbones, through his wrist – which he was sure had fractured, straight up his arm and jangled his shoulder. Fortunately, it had had an effect on the Equinna too, doubling him up and making him unable to walk. His closest friend, taking one look at Raven and deciding he wasn’t THAT drunk, decided to help the Equinna leave the scene. “Drink up, Raven,” Hawle said, having sabotaged his First Officer’s latest attempt to get into Sector Commands’ bad books, “we’ll be heading off.” He hopped down to the bar. “Sorry about that,” he told the bartender.

“Ach, dinnae fash,” Marek said, deliberately accentuating the Scottishness now, “tha’ bampot’s been cravin’ it aw week!”

Hawle looked absentbrained as the others got ready to leave. His left ear drooped. “Does that mean ‘never mind’,” he asked.


“We’re past seven hours,” Hawle called cheerfully, getting groans of ‘shut it, sir’ and ‘my head’ as the others sat in the shuttle and did their best to strap themselves in. Groal tried clicking his restraint three times before Katara got it across to him that he was trying to plug her tool belt into the restraint holder. Stikka found himself in the co-pilot’s seat and Hawle turned the co-pilot controls off. “Can you see straight, Stikka?”

“From one eye, sir,” the cyber enhanced Officer told him. “Thinking’z a bit fussier…”

“Right.”

He lifted off, back towards the ship.
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Really glad that we can get back to the Loper and everything going on there! I always look forward to more Hawle.
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

Two

Five hundred and thirty miles north of the bar and a mile and a half south of the Capital city lay the complex for the settlers from Varkonia. It was a planet the Loper had ended up investigating a number of years past that had turned up unusual things. Like an entire graveyard of alien ships from across the cosmos that had been brought to a barely space capable civilisation by a malfunctioning ancient device. It had been going on for decades and each ship had, largely, been stripped of tech and people, who were kept in a complex that had become something of a prison complex. Many chose to fix their ships and head home the slow way but many others, including several locals, had chosen to set up together on Cora II, where the local populace of Micans and Lappineans had accepted them as boosting their colony economy. They worked in the local factories and doctors surgeries and shops and had worked on rebuilding lives that had been ruined by up to twenty years imprisonment.


Salla Groal was one of those. A retired Lappinean nursing Officer from the long lost U.S.C. Bellaphron, she was considerably older than her new husband and had even been beyond bearing age until new pharmaceuticals had given her a final chance. She’d taken it and now she was a mother again. She wasn’t totally sure of what OF yet as the boy was still in his first days. No fur, closed eyes, a growing tail and ears that looked longer than Celican ones. The leg muscles were already looking Lappinean, she’d decided. Celican muzzle though. That she was certain of about the swaddled babe that was going to be of interest to the Doctors in his growing years and was CERTAINLY of interest to the squad of ladies and girls around her now as she put her feet up on their sofa, allowing Council member Elena Davees to hold Sam for a moment. The Pekan gently took the babe and watched as he wrinkled his nose in a sniff, looking for his mother before even knowing how to look for his mother. “Hello, Sam,” she said softly, knowing his ears wouldn’t quite be working correctly yet, either. She gently stroked him under the muzzle as her tail shifted, rhythmically, from right to left and back again. “I’m Elena and you are the cutest new arrival on this world, you know that, right? At least for this week.”

“Hey,” Salla complained.

“What,” Elena replied. “I have to say the same thing every week.” She smiled. “Of course, this time I mean it.”

Salla hrrmed, clearly unconvinced by the politicians’ mock assurance. “Politicians,” she chided. “Never can tell when you’re telling truth.” She held her hands out.

Elena returned Sam to his mother as Sarah Chapston, the human who operated Hawles’ ship, put a hand on Elena’s shoulder. “Y’looked good with him,” the Human assured her, giving her back her soda.

“Any thoughts to one of my own,” Elena guessed would have been the Humans’ next question. She thought back on personal experiences. “Not for a couple of years, Sarah. Marriage comes first,” she added, dodging Salla’s grandchild Rodin, a long eared Mican girl, as she darted through the throng of adults fussing over her new uncle. “And Aldair and I aren’t quite there yet.” An optimistic look came over her face. “Although I don’t think we’re too far away.”

“You have a connection, you two,” Salla said, letting Sam take a feed from her. “Don’t waste too much time.”

“We probably won’t,” Elena told her, before asking , uncertainly, if that hurt.

“It’s a feeling I never thought I’d feel again,” Salla replied. “I just wonder how long it can last. The medication helped the flow to restart, Elena. Soon this’ll have to be formula but, for now..?” She readjusted the babe and helped his grip as Rodin dashed back, grabbed ‘aunt’ Sarah by the hand and pulled her away with a strength belying her size.


“Come ON, Aunt Sarah,” she urged as Sarah remembered she’d brought a ‘Twister’ game for the girls the last time she was here and, yup, there it was. All laid out by little Marin, the snow white Lappinean. “You can go first,” Marin said with evil sweetness.


The evening passed quietly, Mercy, Salla’s daughter, making sure everyone had enough wine, juice or water to be going on with as she wondered about the future for her new half brother. He certainly hadn’t been in the plans but she was happy her mother had got it together with someone, over a decade after her father and sister had died in the muffins and cookies camp. She’d already had to ‘put off’ one news crew who’d wanted to film the baby in the hospital. Elena had, thankfully, persuaded them not to try for damages due to bad publicity. But there were so many other worries. What if Sam got ill? What medications would work? Would the treatments that enabled him to be born still be in his system? Would they counteract? Might something happen to Karla? They’d given him months off for the wedding and everything but they needed him back on the ship now or he’d lose his pension when it came to it. They’d asked for a transfer to the station here but that had been trapped in paperwork and… “Ding dong,” she asked as the bell rang. “Isn’t everyone here who..?” She put down the profiteroles and opened the front door.


A Fieldmouse in a suit stood there, backed up by a tall Collian canine, resplendent in robes and with a look on her face that spoke of not quite being on the same level as Mercy. “Ambassador Una,” she said in reverence, “I wasn’t expecting you.”

The Collian broke into a smile that spoke of forgiveness for not receiving an invitation. “The best surprises are always unannounced,” she breezed.

“I take it you weren’t expecting me either,” Cedar Kirkwall chipped in, leaning forward slightly as he held out a bottle. “I have a contact on Lapas,” he said by way of explanation for the top grade liquor that he shouldn’t have been able to afford.

“And one on the ship,” Colleen added, affirming the suspicion they’d worked together to get it. “May we come in?”

Mercy realised she was keeping the two friends on the doorstep and started. “Oh, of course! Please!” She stepped back and the two crossed the threshold. Colleen headed into the main room, picking up a glass of the local wine that Mercy suddenly thought might not be good enough. Kirkwall, however, headed straight to the kitchen where the ship’s chef tested out the canapés. “Done a good job with these,” he told her. The evening seemed a little lighter after that.


“Ambassador Una,” Salla said as the upper class Canine entered the room. “I wasn’t expecting you?”

Una stepped over and looked at the baby. “I guessed from the fact no-one invited me?” A smile. “I get it. No overwhelming him so quickly. But I wasn’t going to be one of the last.” She produced a slim, metal, tube from her robes and held it out for Salla. “A small gift. Indestructible shell with beads in. Turn it upright and they clatter down.”

Salla nodded. “Ow. I know how they work, Colleen,” she griped. “But thank you. You gonna mingle?” She turned the rod over and heard the ‘rain’ clatter.

“Of course,” Colleen said, turning as Cedar and Mercy came in in animated discussions about recipes. She looked around at happy people and made a decision to talk with Elena now they were both ‘off duty’ and enjoying themselves. She knew it couldn’t last...
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

I have really enjoyed this chapter so far and like where it is going! Nice work and nice to see Elena again!
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

Three

Commander Hawle skipped as he walked, rooster-of-the-hoop, through the corridors of the USC Frigate Loper in the morning after the night before and greeted technician Polva as he strode past. Sarah’s almost official mate inclined his Russellian head and bid him a good morning as he went. He stopped in at weapons control to make sure Lieutenant Keele had finished the recalibrations she’d promised two days ago. He’d made reference to handcuffing her to her console to ensure she didn’t ‘wander’ and she’d been pretty sure he was joking but she’d completed things in time so he didn’t have to take them out of his back pocket. He congratulated the Feline on her speed and attentiveness whilst making a mental note to double check later. He stepped in on the canteen, where Cedar Kirkwall was setting up the breakfast tables. “Running late, Cedar,” Hawle asked.

“Well,” the Mican replied, setting out the salt and pepper shakers, “half the senior staff’s had a late night so things are running a little late.”

“Well, I’m afraid that’s about to change,” he replied, sliding into a seat. “Henry’s dealt us the best hand he could but we’ve got a patrol on this week. We need to get a shift on. So I need some breakfast waffles and tea.”

Cedar stopped working for a couple of seconds. “Tea, sir? Not Coffee?”

“Downside of the anti-tox tablets is my throat feels like it’s been sandpapered. Tea, please.”

Cedar clicked his tongue and pointed a finger. “Got just the one,” he enthused. “New blend. Came in just yesterday. Bakkaberry and Cinnamon black tea.”

“Oh, no, no,” Hawle told him, “no experiments today. Just normal tea.”

Cedar shrugged with both arms before slapping them down to his sides. “Aw, c’mon, it’s not like I haven’t tried it myself… this time.”

“My tongue was on fire for thirty minutes. I’ll take that risk again when I’m NOT on duty in fifteen. Just tea.”

“Right, right.” Cedar started work on his first breakfast of the morning.

“How’s Colleen,” Aldair asked as Cedar engage the waffle maker.

“Hm? Oh. Well, last I saw she was fine, sir. I’ll be taking her breakfast as usual after Nelly gets here. She’s fine with the morning run. She had some laughs with Elena last night.” Cedar looked innocent. “I can’t think WHAT they were talking about.”

Aldair coughed.


Breakfast done, Hawle continued on his route and entered the bridge behind Lieutenant Match’s science station, walked past Dawton on the communications board and took his seat between Stikka and Raven, both of whom were looking decidedly the worse for wear. “Right,” he said, far too loudly, as he clapped his hands together, “who’s up for fun in space, eh?” He looked brightly as both Raven and Stikka groaned,

“Don’t do that, sir,” the Burman complained. She had her head in one hand as she pawed at him with the other.

“You were the one insisted we go to that amusement park, Raven.”

“You could have stopped me…”

“I’m not that mad, Sarina. A fight ready Burman in an enclosed area without a sedative? No, ta. We’re just fortunate their first aid station had some in chewy tab form.”

“How’d… How’d she set that dodgem car on fire,” Stikka asked, trying to keep his brain from glitching.

Aldair smirked. “How’d you get the ballerina dress… WHERE’D you get the ballerina dress?”

Stikka looked confused. “I have no gaps in my memory, Commander. What..?” He noted Hawle’s face. “Are you making fun of me?”

Hawle held up his hand with his finger and thumb about a centimetre apart. “Little bit? Point is we don’t know and Raven’s got that misdemeanour on her record. So we’re stuck with her for the next few.” He clapped her on the arm to get an ow from his best friend. “Which we’re fine with.”

Raven bleared as Sarah walked in, going stiffly to her seat at the helm. “Looks like I’m not the only one had fun last night.”

“You OK, Chappers,” Hawle asked, wondering if he needed to reprimand Polva for wounding a senior officer.

She took her seat carefully and entered her access code. “Never,” she said without turning around, “play ‘twister’ with anyone who can go ‘right ear blue,” she warned them.

“Sounds like I was lucky to pull the all-nighter,” Match remarked. “Reminds me, any chance of getting some relief here, sir? Twelve hours in and…”

“I’m here,” a feline told him from behind, making the Raitchian jump. “Goole, reporting for duty.”

“Lieutenant Goole when you’re up here,” Hawle snapped. “We’ll shorten it to Goole ourselves, yeah?”

“Uh, of course, sir. Zowaix sends his regards.”

“No, he doesn’t.” The Brockian chief of sciences wasn’t one for fake pleasantries. Or, indeed, any pleasantries. “Right,” Hawle asked rhetorically as he loaded up their mission itinerary on his right arm rest and dispensed a mint imperial from his left one, “let’s see what’s on our itinerary for the upcoming week, shall we? Ooh, an emergency cargo run to Astina IV to help them in storm repairs? Sounds fun.” He closed up the report. “I mean we have active reports of certain wanted secret agents in the zone and drinks companies trying to annex a town for some reason but we’re taking replacement parts for a weather control station to fix a minor issue because someone in colony control sold out cargo transit plans.” he sighed. “Right ho. Dawton, get all departments to report in, even if the section commanders have blinding headaches.”

“On it, sir,” the Human replied, before getting onto the internal communications array to send the request around.


Three minutes passed before all departments reported in and Dawton confirmed them. “OK,” Hawle said, “get us leaving clearance from that sweet little Mican of yours in Space control, would you?”

“Of course, s…” The Human paused. “Uh, I have a call coming in for you, sir? From Pandera IOC?”

“Put them up.”


The image of a Feline… well, almost Feline… appeared on the screen. “Commander Hawle, Captain of the Loper. How can we assist IOC?”

<”I understand you’re going to help in the extreme flooding on Astina IV”>

“Yes,” Hawle replied, crossing his legs. “Colony’s infrastructure’s been badly damaged so we’ve been asked to assist in…”

<”We found the person who’d sold the lists and which lists they were. A freighter called ‘Rall’ was supposed to be taking supplies from Gondi to Maxima III but dumped the cargo and diverted to pick up hundreds of refugees from the storm to take them to Maxima III instead. We can’t contact them for some reason...”>

“We’re on it,” Hawle replied. “Send their last known position. Dawton, get us that leaving permission NOW.”
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

I am really liking how this chapter has come out! I hope that you can post more chapters with Hawle in it!
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

Four

Groal shook his head. He’d taken one of those pills Doctor Barleycorn had given him to speed the alcohol from his head but as, unlike Hawle, he’d not had the foresight to take one before last night, he’d gone through a very concentrated hangover period that had left his brain feeling slightly more strung out than a wrung out towel. And now his ears were buzzing. No, wait, he told himself, that wasn’t his ears. The ‘blue alert’ sound was, um, sounding. They were about to leave station and it wasn’t a standard departure. Something must be up. “Jan,” he said, as she was over by the console linked to the bridge and he wasn’t, “what’s going on?”

Martina Januvitski, known as ‘Jan’ everywhere she’d served, glanced at the readings and translated. “It looks like we’ve got a new destination,” she told him, “and they want us to proceed at velocity 4.” She did the calculations on the screen. “It looks like it’d take us… twelve hours to reach the location at top speed.”

Groal shook his head. “No, no,” he opined, “you must have read that wrong. Or I’ve got straw in my ears. Top speed’s only safe for seven hours at one go and Aldair knows it.”

Jan snorted. “That probably explains the note Sarah sent. I quote:- ‘And we really mean it, Karla!’ End quote.”

He groaned and headed over to work on preparing the power boost that would be needed. “Get us up and running, Karla,” he complained, impersonating Commander Hawle badly. “We might need the engines running hard during this cruise.”

“The start’s part of the cruise,” Katara volunteered, the Silver Vixen swishing around him to her own panel to boost the ships’ structural integrity.

“It’s not a cruise if you’re running flat out, Katara,” he replied. “And it’s dangerous to go to full speed in a system.”

She looked up. “I’ll check the shields and weapons when we’re done here.”

“No, I’ll check the shields with Jan,” Groal replied. “I’m back now, ‘acting’ Chief.”

“Only until you leave again, ‘boss’.”


Colleen Una had also heard the ‘blue alert’ sound so, being a junior ambassador and the highest ranking civilian on the ship, she did what she normally did in this sort of situation. She headed for the bridge. It irked her to leave the remnants of breakfast on the table, the dishes dirtying up the surface with their presence, but it was absolutely important – to her – that she was in the right place to offer Commander Hawle patient and sane advice when he needed it and, to be frank, she wanted to know what was going on. She stepped onto the bridge and, amongst the hodge-podge of uniform styles there, raised the room’s esteem by several points as always. She didn’t hold it against them, the fact that no-one seemed to have a uniform that entirely matched anyone elses, she looked on it as testament to the crews individuality. All of their versions were permitted, including Hawle’s bandolier and Epaulettes as they were historical variants of the uniform and, frankly, no-one was that interested in forcing compliance on the ship. “Good morning, Captain,” she said politely.

“Good morning, Colleen,” Hawle replied, cheerily. “Greyson,” he continued, talking to Stikka, “we’re not going to be there for hours and Sarina’s going to need relief before then. Time to take some time off?”

The Racon inclined his head. “I shall relinquish my seat,” he said graciously, standing up, “and go watch ‘Our IX lives’ on my headset for a few hours.”

“You watch that too, sir,” Dawton asked as the 2nd Officer passed by.

“I have all thirty-seven thousand episodes, Lieutenant,” he replied before leaving the bridge.

Una walked around and, after brushing his chair with a hand, sat in it with consummate grace. “Might I ask what the reason is for the alert?”

“Oh, the..?” Hawle stopped for a second. “Dawton, turn that thing off and get IT looking into why it didn’t shut itself off after the usual time.” He returned his attention to Colleen. “My apologies about that. Colleen. We’re searching for a missing freighter that’s taken on evacuees from Astina III…”

“Four,” Raven corrected.

“So many planets,” Hawle grumbled, “so little naming originality. Just name the thing after how many other stones are between it and the star… Anyhow,” he said, clearing his head, “they’re taking them to Maxima III…” he glanced at Raven. She didn’t look back. “Anyhow, their freight manifest document says they were supposed to be hauling metals from Gondi. And that manifest document is one of the stolen ones.”

“S… we’re going to Astina IV,” Colleen asked, thinking of an old diplomatic dinner she’d experienced with a member of that colony’s government once.

“Nope,” Hawle announced. They’re not responding to hails and, according to their company, their transponder’s due for replacement on Maxima III which might explain the fact we can’t pick it up so we’re going where Chappers has estimated their position to be at closest intercept point…” Colleen noted Sarah waving from the helm as her name was said. “...yes,” Hawle continued, “we acknowledge your mathematical genius in this, Sarah. Provided you’re right, of course. If you’re not, I’ll throw a mint at your head. When we get there, if they’re not there, we’ll start searching from there, using their energy output trail as a guide.”

“You… have that?” Colleen knew that different engines disrupted space in slightly different ways as they travelled through it, leaving trails that others could follow unless masked. She just didn’t know the Council had access to the details of civilian ships.

“Oh, yeah,” Hawle told her. “Dawton got it sent over from Aldair IV’s records. They store them for a week or so.”

“I suppose it’s easier than storing them yourself,” Colleen replied. “On computer memory, I mean.”

“Yeah, Winsome and Gilly would drive themselves potty logging all those.”


They looked at the viewer as the ship streaked through space, on a very precise course that avoided planets, moons, asteroid belts, suns and other ships; headed towards the unknown dangers and relative uncertainty of what lay out there.

“I think we should run a weapons check,” Raven said. Hawle agreed with her.
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Very impressive work here with this story! Looking forward for more!
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

FIVE


Doctor Bazil Fuze examined the stores to make sure they had enough for what might be coming. The medical supplies were enough for a standard cruise but, with them having been warned of what might be coming their way – or were they heading towards it – Doctor Barleycorn had wanted a doublecheck to make sure nobody had been filching stuff from the stores. And she hadn’t wanted to do it herself so, under the purview of ‘Rank has it’s privileges’, she’d directed him to do it.

It wasn’t a big room that kept their stores as energy provided most of their immediate surgery needs but there was always a need to keep actual, physical, props and ointments around for emergencies and medical kits. He’d been on a colony once where they’d suffered an electromagnetic strike from a passing comet and some of the Doctors and paramedics didn’t even know how to make an emergency splint. They hadn’t been taught. He’d given them basic instructions in thirty minutes. “Sterile bandages,” he said, checking the boxes were still full, “check. Five boxes. Anti-constipation tablets… check. Three boxes. Battery powered scalpels… sealed and check. Two secured boxes. Normal scalpels… why aren’t they supplied in secured boxes, I wonder? It’s not like they’re any less lethal than the battery ones. Anyhow, check. One box…”

“Talking to yourself, Baz,” Chief Jaqui Pangal asked from the doorway. The Lappinean had paused in her tour of the ship when hearing the Doctor talking and couldn’t see anyone else.

Doctor Fuze jumped at the remark. “Oh, uh, no.” He held his comm up. “Just taking stock, so to speak. Night’s orders.”

Jaqui pushed herself off the door frame and into the room. “She does know I personally made sure all the stuff was brought in as requested, yes? It’s almost like she doesn’t trust me.”

Bazil choked a short laugh and turned off his comm before stepping over. “Nah,” he explained, “it’s just make work in the silence before the storm. There’s nothing so dangerous as bored hands in the build up.” The young savant angled his head towards Jaqui in curiosity. “I mean, have the rooms moved in the hour since you last patrolled? We still, I take it, only have three spare suites for dignitaries and room for three in the brig?”

“Room for twelve in the brig,” Jaqui corrected. “Three cells but standing room in each for four.”

“Wanna bet one of them would complain they’d paid for solitary confinement?”


Polva pulled the latest supply truck for Cedar’s galley from the refrigerated stockroom and hauled the wheeled truch up the passageway as his comm beeped. He had a message. The technician paused to check what it was about. An old school friend apparently had something going on on a nearby colony and Galface had identified he was in the sector and would he like to go? He found he had to decline but… He hit ‘possible’ and the message vanished. If he got the time, he’d take Sarah. She liked art.

He opened the galley door and pulled the items in for stocking up the fridge. “Latest sanctamas gifts,” he joked, ignoring the fact that Sanctamas was months away.

“It’ll have all gone off by then,” Cedar retorted, not ignoring the fact.

“It’d never get the chance with you, Cedar,” Polva laughed happily as the catering assistant started removing the meat.

Cedar picked up a bag of vegetables that had been stored in the ‘crisper’ area of the stock room. “No discounts for compliments, Ed,” he jibed, tapping the Russellian on the tip of the nose with a carrot. “Although I CAN do forty percent off for an engagement celebration meal.”

Polva spluttered in protest as his heart shifted up into his throat. His leg started shaking and he waited for it to stop before he swallowed. “Wh...what do you mean,” he asked.

Now it was Cedars’ time to laugh. “I saw you looking in the jeweller’s windows a couple of days back,” he confessed. “And then you went in..?”

Polva looked slack jawed. “Don’t tell her,” he pleaded. “I’m waiting for the right moment…”

Cedar returned from putting the first load away. “Don’t wait for a perfect one,” he said. “On this ship you’ll never get one of them. Just wait for a good one.” He reacted as though a thought had just struck him. “Like a romantic dinner situation. Tell me when and I’ll arrange three courses that work for Canids and Humans. I’ll hold my tongue until then, Marius.”

Polva put the sack of grain that he knew Cedar couldn’t lift into the dispensal slot assigned for it. “You’d better or I’ll hold it.”

Cedar poked his tongue out.

“Is that hygienic?”


“Are we there yet,” Hawle asked as stars continued to streak by. He could have checked his chair’s arm panel for confirmation that they weren’t quite there yet but he’d done that several times over the trip and he felt like talking.

“Nearly, sir,” Sarah replied, not bothering to give an exact time for exactly the same reason. “Thirty minutes”

<”Groal to bridge,”> the comm speaker said.

Hawle tapped his comm to answer. “Yes, Groal?”

<”Are we planning on slowing down in the next few minutes?”>

“Half an hour, Karla,”

<”I’d, ah, really cool the engines down before that, Captain.”> Hawle was about to ask why but the Engineer cut across him as he couldn’t see the Lappinean about to talk. <”We’ve been redlining for about an hour and I think they’re going to explode soon. Just so you know.”>

Hawle took it in. “Slow to velocity three, Chappers,” he advised and Chapston complied, adding twenty minutes on to their journey. “Best I can do for now, Karla, this is an emergency.”

<”I get that, sir, I’ll get the core cooled as best I can.”> He cut the link.

Hawle turned in his chair to get a better look at Dawton. “Any news from the Roll,” he asked.

“Afraid not, sir,” the Human replied. “Abject silence.”

“But I’m getting something,” Goole put in. Hawle tried to turn to see him but found himself facing the back of his chair so he chose to stand up and face him instead. “It’s, er, power trails,” the feline confessed. “One of them’s the Roll – from the information the company sent. I can’t identify the other, sir.”

“But it doesn’t seem good,” Hawle sighed.
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

This chapter has come out really nice! Can't wait to see what else you have planned!
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

It always irks me how nothing seems to happen on the bridge for 90% of the time in shows. There's no chatter, no gags. No nothing. It just seems so... sterile.

Hawle doesn't run that sort of ship.

SIX

Hawle walked the command deck as Dawton, Chapston and Match compared their readings, working together to turn a trio of threads into a workable map. The engine trails they’d traced indicated that the second engine, the one that wasn’t the freighter, hadn’t dissipated as much as the first had and had adjusted it’s heading somewhat. It could simply be another freighter but, as Dawton put it, the chances of there being two freighters with busted transponders in the same area of space were as vanishingly remote as, indeed, the freighter was. Chapston already had them following the trails but only at velocity 2.7 as Groal had indicated a malfunction in the engine cooling system. Apparently it wasn’t supposed to be on at maximum strength for twelve hours straight and he needed to replace the cabling. He’d promised a half hour at most. Dawton was still unable to find any active communications but he did say there was signs that someone had been using internal communications in the recent past. Hawle wasn’t sure how Dawton could tell that but he wasn’t a communications engineer like the Human and, frankly, he wasn’t interested enough to ask. “So where are we heading, Chappers?”

“Forward, sir, forever forward. But, today? We’re headed for the Masrak system. Lappinean colony on Tuperna but everywhere else is uninhabited. It has a class II moon and its main exports are Vegetables and Bunnies.”

Hawle looked over her shoulder. “I see Gallipedia’s been edited by a Human again?”

“Nope,” Sarah replied, trying not to notice the light being blocked by an ear, “they imported Earth Rabbits and started a breeding program. Now they export them across the quadrant. Your lot on Earth are just so darn cute.”

“And an ecological disaster,” Dawton chipped in.

“Is this ‘bully the Captain’ hour,” Hawle asked. “I should call Elena and complain. But she’d just add to it. Right ho. Time to target, Chappers?”

“If I can see the screen in this low light,” she glibbed, “I’d tell you.” The ear folded down and tapped her head as it did so. “That’s probably a violation of something, sir. But I won’t bring you up on charges. Three hours.”

“You won’t bring me up on charges for three hours? Oh,” he replied, knowing full well what she’d meant, “three hours to Tuperna? Right.” He straightened up and walked around to Dawton. “Contact Tuperna control,” he ordered, “see if the ships have shown up there or been detected on their sensors. Match, try and work out what sort of engine the second ship’s driving. Might tell us what we’re up against.” He vaulted into his chair and sat.

“That can’t be good for the chair,” Colleen told him gently.

“It’s designed for Lappineans,” he responded. “We hop. Want a mint?”


Katara flinched sideways as the power lines sparked and crackled. She almost found herself regretting taking the promotion to deputy chief Engineer when that Mican nitwit had taken the job on the Fallir. It meant she had more responsibilities and more people to shout at, especially when Groal was busy doing something else. “Bastan, you idiot,” she shouted at the Canine, “I told you to redirect the flow, NOT try to fry my ears!”

The Aslan looked up from the monitor. “Sorry, ma’am,” he explained, “I’m having trouble re-routing the power. The computer keeps fighting me.”

“Turn the over-ride off, then!”

“I’ve tried but it fights me on that, too!”

Jan took over the console, typing quickly as she tried to work out what was going on. The sparking died down. “I’ve sent it through the tertiary conduits, Kat,” she explained. “I’ll have to route it back in… five minutes.”

Katara started working quickly, clipping and screwing the new cables in at quite a pace. “Good job,” she panted as she finished, “I only need four.” She rested her hands on a console and glowered at Bastan. “NEVER call me ma’am,” she threatened. “I’m an engineer, not a I'm a spambot. Sir will do. Or Lieutenant or just call me Katara. Got it?”

The Canine swallowed. “Got it,” he said, running the required checks. “New cabling’s holding, Katara.”

“Ruddy well better do,” Katara grumbled.

Groal stepped back in from the cooling systems and shook several ice crystals from his fur. He’d been fixing the system from inside the main room, cooled to minus forty degrees and needed to heat himself back up. Jan threw the big Celican a thermal blanket and he put the silvered blanket around his shoulders. “These… are too bloody thin,” he complained. “Bas...Bastan. Get me a coffee. Warm, not b...boiling. Whitener, no sweetener. Go.”

The Canine hauled himself towards the nearest replication machine. “Next time,” Katara told him, “send someone in there who’s wearing than a thin shirt and shorts. Weylan, for example.”

“Didn’t have… time, Kat,” Groal retorted as Bastan handed him a mug with steaming liquid. He held it for just a moment before sipping it. It wasn’t that hot but still felt scalding to the half frozen. “Besides,” he rasped, “I’m better than Weylan.”

Katara thought of several comebacks but decided to turn her back on him. “Yeah,” she said, “you are.”

“Heard that,” Groal replied as the others kept working and pretending not to hear them.


Maze Hardy ran her final checks over the Starlancer fighters under her command. Twin pulse engine fighters with atmospheric capabilities and twin forward pule energy cannons, they were near the top of the line in capabilities, only totally outclassed by her own one. Her ‘Lancer was in the last few months of its trail run with Monta Weapontech and Fawren Spaceways supplying it for field tests. It was capable of utilising a hydro-jet engine and operating underwater like a small scale personal submarine. It was the only thing they were currently working on together after the clipper ship debacle on Pandera a year or so ago, where criminals had almost stolen a ship in testing. A small scale interplanetary craft that could not only operate in all three environments but was functionally invisible. Strangely enough the Council hadn’t been happy about that and threatened to pull all their contracts. They were getting on better now. Probably. She didn’t want to push it. “According to Match,” she told the ten officers, “the main ship’s probably a Qwella class freighter. That model’s made for bulk but there’s room for fighters in the bay. Co-incidentally, as the Qwella is made by Kakkal, the only fighters it’s designed to take are Kakkal’s own. Cheap, cheerful and bank like a Meteor.” She pointed a finger. “If I lose ANY of you to a Kakkal, I’m going to load your facsimile up in the holoroom and take my displeasure out on it, got me? They are pieces of junk compared to us. Get ready to fly.”


“Sir,” Match reported, making Hawle twist an ear towards him. “I have something on sensors. Long range, not visual yet.”

“Identify?”

“No transponder records, sir. But the power readings…”

“Is it the Roll?”

“Uh, no, sir.” He fancied Hawle could hear the confusion in his tone. “Apparently it’s the other one. And it’s dead in space.”
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

I don't think that Elena would add to him being bullied verbally. Just try to persuade someone to dump something on him. XD Great chapter!
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

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Seven

Colleen looked at the ship on the screen as they closed in. It looked an ugly brute to her eyes, all jagged angles reflecting the distant sun at unpleasant angles from a yellow tinted skin. Its shuttle bays were closed and, according to Goole, the power was off. She figured that probably explained why there were no internal lights. “What do you think has occurred here,” she asked the Commander.

He nodded back to her. “There are possibilities,” he confessed, his mouth behind steepled fingers. “Most of them aren’t great. We need to go aboard.”

“I’ll get a squad ready,” Raven said, anticipating the directive.

“Sit down, Raven,” Hawle commanded, “it’s not your turn.”

“Are… you going,” Colleen asked hesitantly.

“Only if he wants me to restrain him,” Raven grumbled. “Captains don’t lead away teams. No matter how many vidshows insist they do.”

Hawle merely pointed a thumb towards Raven and shrugged before activating his armrest comm switch. “Hawle to Stikka.”

<”Stikka here.”>

“Got a need for an away team, Greyson. The ship we’ve found isn’t the one we’re looking for. Power’s off so get in a suit and check it out. Take Zowaix, Katara and Valrix with you. I’ll get them released by their section heads.”

<”Affirmative, sir.”> The link cut and Dawton sent out the required requests to departments.

“It’s a good job this is a small ship,” Raven remarked. “So little repetition of surnames.”

“It does have its’ uses,” Hawle agreed.


The Racon made sure his head computer was ready to record everything he saw over in the other ship as he put the atmosphere helmet on. This was one of the reasons he’d decided not to get the ‘auto-relay’ facility he could have had installed. It didn’t work with helmets on. And it needed an antennae sticking up from behind his ear and he wasn’t ready for that. He stopped the replay of the Celican Star Opera he’d been watching and focussed on the task at hand. The group he was taking weren’t exactly the easiest to get along with, he reckoned; especially Brockian scientist Zowaix and Katara. She’d been ready to punch him at least twice, he figured. But she was good at her job. As was Zowaix. He hadn’t worked much with Valrix, a Canine security Officer, so he pulled up his file and saw he was rated as a potential rising star. If he calmed down somewhat. He put that aside as he activated the suit comms system and the names of the others showed on his helmet display. “We ready to go,” he asked.

<“I’m ready to come back,”> the Brockian replied, his name glowing green.

“We’re reliant on speed for this one so it shouldn’t take long.” He nodded to the teleport operator, realised the helmet hadn’t moved and activated his speaker. “Send us over, Technician.”

“Right-ho,” Polva replied, operating the terminal as he’d done maybe two dozen times before.


<”Was he the guy that I often see mopping the hallways,”> Valrix asked as they arrived in the dark interior. <”Did I just get scrambled into a billion pieces and transmitted by a lavatory attendant???”>

“He’s been taking classes,” Stikka stipulated. “And we’re here. Let’s get this place operational quickly. We should be just behind the bridge.” Despite there still being a settling atmosphere, the group kept the suits on as they moved heavily towards the door, which remained sealed.

<”Did anyone bring a key,”> Zowaix asked before being pushed aside by Katara. <”Guess you did.”>

<”What other good would I be,”> Katara asked, pulling open the manual interface and attaching her suit’s power cell to crack the seal.


“I wonder what they’ve found over there,” Raven queried as the group watched the silent, static, ship on the screen. She didn’t know it but she was nervously picking her teeth with a claw.

“They’ve only had two minutes of the ten, Sarina. Keep calm.”

“You should have sent me, sir,” Raven protested.

“You’ll face that fear in time,” Hawle told her. “But only when you need to.” He still recalled how close he’d come to losing her a year or so ago, when an automated ship had blown up a few seconds after she’d left it. And then it had happened again. Like a standard belligerent Burman she wasn’t going to take therapy but she was off boarding ‘dead’ ships until an emergency occurred.

“I NEED to do it so others don’t take the risk, Captain, You can’t…”

“I believe that Lieutenant Stikka also requires experience in such matters, Sarina,” Colleen smoothed. “He has to get such experiences to progress in his career, I believe?”

Sarina caught herself in mid-pose as she tried to think of a response. “Well, yes… I suppose so but…”

“And,” Colleen cut in, “if he were to get into trouble, who would you rather be the one to rescue him? I imagine that would be you, yes?”

More likely Jaqui, Hawle thought, meaning his security chief. He chose not to say it, however, as he could see what she was doing.

“Can you imagine the confidence it gives Stikka to know that, if needed, you’re there to assist him?”

Raven sat back in her seat. “Still should be me,” she grumbled.


The team got back aboard after another eight minutes and Valrix checked everything was still in working order and his tail was still attached as he saw the Russellian behind the console. “Relax, Valrix,” Polva remarked, “I’ve not misteleported anyone yet.”


Stikka, took his helmet off and commed the bridge. “Interesting thing, sir,” he reported. “Their ship was also in trouble, according to Katara. They boarded the Roll and left their own ship for whoever found it. The Captain’s visual log confirmed that. Captain Wilta Hkanna.”

<”He said his name on the log,”> Hawle asked.

“No, the facial rec said his name in my brain. He’s wanted for smuggling. People smuggling.”
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

That's actually a very big promotion from mopping the floors to transporting people by scrambling then! Wonderful chapter!
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

It's a thing that sometimes irks me. Starships are always clean. Engineering department does everything down to repairing the drinks dispensers. Figures they'd have technicians deal with that so the engineers can deal with the stuff that requires... Engineers? And the technicians might want to advance their skills.
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

I had heard of it but admittedly I have never seen it. I don't really watch those kind of shows.
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

As it stands, the reason for it being called 'The Chase' is still not revealed. But I can mention that certain members of another story will soon make a cameo. As will someone else who's often mentioned... (And I don't mean Balbury)


Eight.

“Follow them, Chappers,” Hawle ordered, drinking the coffee he’d bought himself to celebrate his fifteenth hour on duty.

Stikka had replaced the still grumbling Raven on the watch and had deliberately brushed down his chair after Ambassador Una had left it. “I think she’s moulting,” the Racon declared, leaving Hawle unsure if he was joking or not.

“She’d keep her hair in line, Greyson. So,” he continued as the Racon strapped himself in, “you think they’re headed for Panna?”

“It’s a possible, sir,” the Racon replied. “Agricultural colony providing foods for about five other worlds. It’s where I’d go. Has much the same route towards where the refugees were going at this point.”

“Uh, sir,” Sarah put in, turning around in her swivel chair. She waited for a prompt from Hawle to continue. “Why Panna? I mean there’s other colonies and…”

“It’s picking season on Panna now,” Hawle remarked. “Well, in the northern areas anyhow. Hiring people to pick fruit costs a lot of credits. ‘Rescue’ some captives and you’ve got cheap workers in the most desperate few weeks. Or months. Or years if you’re disreputable enough.”

The Human scowled. “In this day and age that’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, well, immorality doesn’t have a calendar, Chappers, just an opponent. Follow the trail. Best available speed. If we can catch them before they get where they’re going, it’s all the better.”

“Aye, sir,” Chapstone responded, keeping the fact that she already had them going best speed to herself.

“Match,” Stikka said aloud, “what can you tell us about the Roll?”

The Raitchian science Officer pulled up the details on his screen and consulted the specifications of the target vehicle to tell the others. “Uh, it’s a Yasta class freighter, designed to carry a quarter million tonnes of freight or equipment. Thirty years old. Capable of velocity three point two when empty but more like plain velocity three in this condition. Anti asteroid lasers and shields. According to the company the last refit was four years ago.”

“In other words it’s not worth scrap,” Hawle quipped. “It’s on the edge of obsolete and he’d probably have to pay more to repair the comm system than he’d get for the ship.” He frowned. “In fact it’s in much worse condition than his own ship looked and he just left that.” He turned back to Stikka. “Was there anything wrong with that ship?”

“I only had ten minutes, Captain,” Stikka protested. “But it did look like something was running wrong with the electrics. Even after Katara restarted the supply to the bridge it was flickering. And on the screen during the replay of that Captain’s log.”

“You copied the ships logs,” Hawle asked.

The Racon tapped his temple. “Into a sealed and isolated section,” he promised. “I’ve downloaded them into the isolated computer here.”

“Harvey’ll be happy…”


Harvey Winsome, the ship’s chief computer officer and part time telepath, looked through the files downloaded onto the isolated terminal and half scowled. “Do you think Stikka ran enough security precautions before uploading all this to his brain?”

Gilly Klass, recent Raitchian transfer, potential spy and confirmed love interest for Harvey, looked over to the Squirrel from the sofa the pair shared in their private room come computer lab. “He’s got all the best anti-virals loaded into his system. After that ‘shaking vac’ incident.”

Harvey grimaced at the green screen. “Oh, yeah. We all got the ‘freshness back’ that night. Fifteen hours to dump the infection.”

“At least he can dance. And he’ll have done everything. What do they want you to look for anyhow?”

“Something went wrong with the power on that ship. His nibbles wants the down low on the situation to find out if it was an engineering snafu or something computer wise.” He sighed and started working on his galactic standard keyboard. “Let’s open the box and have a little look see, shall we?”


An hour passed and, with Sarah having told Hawle that he had an hour before they caught up with the Roll, the Captain was in the conference room with Raven, Stikka and Winsome as the slightly over caffeinated Jondahl officer gave the briefing. “Lookingover whatMr. Stikkaa broughtback,” he said, his hand motions near enough a blur as he moved until Hawle slapped the table.

“Harvey, if you can’t control yourself and CALM DOWN, I’ll have to get Gilly up here to tell us and swap your ranks around. Are you ready to serve under her?” He facepalmed as he reasoned what he’d just said. “NO ANSWERING THAT! Just… calm it down.”

Harvey swallowed and composed himself, doing a few hand yoga moves as Hawle rested his muzzle on a hand and drummed the table with the other. “What Stikka brought back,” Harvey said, more patiently this time. “shows signs of a virus that infected the electrical systems. It WAS a computer virus – so we’ll run a scan on you in a minute, lieutenant – and it looks like it started after their ship received a file from somewhere else. I can’t tell what was in that file because I’mNOTopening it as that would be REALLY stupid…” He brushed off imaginary dust as he calmed himself again. “The Captain seems to blame it on who sold him the information. He mentions a ‘Clan Castoran’ dealer called Yilla who betrayed him.”

“Right,” Hawle decided, “save all those records and files where we can find them. Wrap that one file in IRONCLAD protection, send it to IOC with a copy of everything else and purge it from our system. I’m not flying around with a primed grenade in my pocket, waiting for the pin to slip out.” He pushed down on the table to stand up. “Stikka, go get brain washed again. Sarina, we’re back to the bridge.”


Long range scanners had the Roll now, still closing on destination, whichever that might be. “Tried hailing, Dawton,” Hawle asked.

“No sir,” Dawton replied, obviously lying through his tone, “that thought never entered my head. To confirm, sir, they’ve not responded to those messages.”

“That you’ve… not sent,” Hawle replied, quirking an eye ridge at the Human.

“It’s a whole thing,” Dawton shrugged.

“Of course it is. Prepare the light signals to send out a message in code.”

He manipulated his controls to set up the emergency light messaging system. “What’s the message?”

“Stop or you’re going to crash into us. Chappers…”

“Putting us on intercept course stupidity now, sir.”
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Fifteen hours on duty? Yeah Elena won't like that. She needs her boyfriend to be around her. Preferably after he face plants in a mud puddle. :D
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

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Nine

Sarah held her breath and tried not to look at the screen as she competed the turn to put the Loper ‘face-to-face’ with the Roll and stopped their momentum with a blast from the docking thrusters. She hated the main screen in this sort of situation as it always filled the screen and lied that the ship wasn’t several million miles away. It made out it was right on top of them and about to steamroller them into atoms. Raven had ordered Hawle to order her to take the away team and Hawle ordered her to send the Captain of the Roll back to the Loper so they could talk. She’d already started assembling her team and headed out as Dawton started sending the visual signals. “And now,” Hawle said, crossing his legs, “we wait.”

“What for,” Stikka asked, feeling that he knew but knowing that the Captain wanted someone to ask. It was stored under ‘feeder lines’ in his database.

“Either they stop or they don’t. Dawton, we heard anything from the Coton yet?”

“Uh, yes, sir,” the Human called back. “They say they’ll pick up the pirate ship in five hours.”

“Provided no-one’s nicked it in the meantime,” Match contributed.

“Exactly,” Hawle agreed. “Salvage rights apply. Remind the Coton that, if it’s there and they do take it back, they’re not to open that file. Their lives and pensions might depend on it.”

“Sending the warning again, sir.”

“I wish they’d not sent the Coton,” Hawle confided in Stikka. “Lieutenant Commander Talvey has a reputation for curiosity.”

“I don’t think the records always do us justice, sir,” Stikka advised.

“Hmm, suppose that’s true.” A slight grimace. “Most of us would have been fired if we took the records on face value. Are they stopping, Chappers?”

Sarah, who’d just been thinking that there was nothing wrong on HER record (was there), brought her mind back to the looming leviathan and double checked her console.


Raven readied her team in the teleport room. Unlike Stikka, she was taking mainly security officers in her five person team. Januvitski was assigned from Engineering and Fuze from medical and she could tell who they were before she even put her helmet on. Theirs didn’t have the inbuilt energy weapons of security, nor the class four armour for protection. Security – and herself – would get in between them and trouble if needed. They WERE armed with lesser weapons as their armours needed to provide for their specialities. Januvitski’s had inbuilt holographic tool capabilities and Fuze had medical sensors, energy scalpel facilities and a tablet replication machine and dispenser in the belt. It was also blue in tone. She pulled on the helmet and watched the names appear. “Ready to go,” she told the teleport operator, through the speaker.

“Ready to send you,” she replied. “Reading a lot of people in the rear holds so I’m not sending you there. There’s the Captain’s cabin next to the bridge so I’ll send you there.”

“You can do that?”

“I’ve never lost anyone yet.”

”How many times have you done it,” Fuze asked, engaging his speaker.

<”Hawle to Raven, go is granted.”>

“I’ll tell you when you get back,” the chief grinned to Bazil as she engaged the system.


<”This is a stock room,”> Fuze’s voice complained over the internal speaker in Raven’s headset. It was, clearly, a stockroom, with containers and other items all around them.

Despite the fact his voice wouldn’t have been heard outside the suit, Raven shushed him as she scanned for life forms. Thirteen, it seemed, were wandering the ship and over three hundred were in the holds. Not the best place for them to be, Raven reckoned. “Jan,” she said, wondering why the Human’s full name wasn’t showing – and, for a different matter, what the human had used to fill that tail section in the armour – on her headset, “can you jam those outer hold doors? Prevent them from being opened?”

<”On a Yasta fourteen? Yeah. But I’ll need to be at the terminal outside the holds to do it. Or on the bridge but that’s the harder route.”>

“Kritch, Quell, get her down there. We don’t know the disposition of the crew so try and avoid them. Engage if needed.”

<”Right,”> Kritch replied, leading the trio out into the quiet passage. The Canid looked as though he was sniffing inside his helmet, possibly through instinct, before he headed aft. Raven took the others towards the bridge.

<”You realise, of course, that ‘surprise’ is only going to last a few seconds,”> Bazil complained as they moved. <”Even if their sensor system is down it’s not that big a..”>

“Bigmouth,” Raven said as a shadow moved across the doorway ahead of them. She tensed, readying her speaker and her weapons as Tolley put Fuze behind him for safety.


“What do you think they’re doing,” Hawle asked Stikka curiously, as the ship hung in front of them, still uncomfortably large on the screen.

“Probably wondering if we meant that last message we sent. “We’ll fire on you if you don’t stop immediately?”

Hawle shrugged. “We needed them to stop.”

“Sir, they were stopping.”

“They were slowing, Greyson. That’s not stopping. NOW, they’ve stopped.”

<”Raven to Loper,”> said a voice over the main speaker. Hawle decided he didn’t like the way it sounded… excited and was breathing heavily.

“Go ahead, Raven,” he replied, flicking a switch first to route comms to his terminal, not Dawtons.

<”They’re definitely here, Captain! We’re taking fire and sending it back at them!”>

“Do you need assistance? Gallaway,” he said, talking to his weapons officer, “break their engines a bit, would you?”

“How do I break an engine ‘a bit’?”

“Nothing an engineering team can’t fix, given an hour or so.”

<”I don’t think it’ll be needed but you could send Jaqui,”> Raven called as Galloway started trying to shoot holes in the engines once Chapston gave his a better angle.

“They’re powering engines,” Match warned, "and adjusting their heading to evade us."

“Well, that’s a given,” Hawle told him. “Raven, the Roll’s powering up to run. We’re doing our best to stop them. Suggest you do the same.”

<”Roger that,”> Sarina growled, cutting the line.
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

This chapter really has come out really wonderful! Keep up the good work!
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

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Ten

Raven kept herself crouched behind the corner of the corridor closest to the bridge. Against her, three of the occupiers had taken position behind salvage and containers, blocking the way to the bridge as the Burman and her people tried to break their line and affect an entry and stop this crazy ship. She fried her suits main energy weapon and scored a hit on one of the containers. She reckoned it was made of duralanium from how it barely scorched the material. She frowned as she felt impacts outside the ship and relaxed as she figured it was them trying to damage the engines. Things were about to get problematic…

<”To the Council scum on board,”> said a voice over the P.A., <”You have two choices. Surrender or I open the storage bays to space.”>

<”He’ll have a hard time,”> Januvitski said from the hold area, <”I’ve isolated the door controls and I locked the bridge out. I’m about to let them out. I’m also going to jam the interior hold doors open. You MIGHT want to tell them?”>

“Acknowledged, Jan,” Sarina replied. “Kritch, Quell, watch out. There may be hostiles in the groups.”

<”Understood, sir,”> the two guards replied in near unison.

Raven isolated the ship comm and patched herself in to respond to the hijacker. “This is Commander Raven of the Loper,” she snarled. “WE have control of the hold doors and, in case you’ve thought of attaching explosives to the exterior doors, we’ve opened the interior hold doors as well. Attempt anything like that and you’ll expose all this ship to vacuum, including your own people. YOU are guaranteed that surrender will see you treated well. Standing against us will see you charged with every crime I can think of and a fair few the Captain can make up. You’re not getting out of this any way other than this. And, to prove it…” She added another channel to the chat. “Now’s the time, Jaqui.”


The Celican ‘Captain’ turned around as he heard the sound of people teleporting in and raised his weapon towards the three opponents that were appearing. The shot slapped into the front of one of the suits and sent the occupant staggering back and dropped them to the floor as a stun bolt lashed from the security suit and crashed him back over the console to lie still. The Loper crewman pulled himself back up as the other looters on station chose sanity to be the best choice of action and put their hands up, Pangal stepped over the fallen form of the original captain and took her helmet off to use the internal system. “This is Security Chief Jaqui Pangal of the U.S.C. Loper. We have control of the bridge. We’ll shortly be opening the doors and killing any hostage takers who haven’t surrendered so there’s your clue, guys. Also, can anyone of the bridge crew come to the bridge? We need someone to fly this ship.”


“Doctor Fuze is running checks over the refugees and Officer Patchway,” Jaqui reported to Hawle as he sat in his ready room. His fellow Lappinean had beamed back after a few moments with her gaggle of prisoners, who were now filling up every cell she had, four to a room with only the Captain having a personal cell away from the others. “Barleycorn’s dealing with the more extreme cases. It seems,” she added, checking her padd for confirmation, “that they got the information from a broker called ‘The Star’ on Perigaa III and they don’t know why he corrupted the information…”

Hawle waved a pen in the air to indicate he wanted Jaqui to shut up for a few seconds so he could interject. “Get a hold of the tame Pirate on the Rodomont,” he instructed,, yawning. “Tell her the clans and the information. See what she can tell us. Or find out.”

“You think she’s still in contact with them?”

Another yawn from Hawle. “I think information flows along a river, Jaqui. And no-one knows a river like a Castoran Otter. Notify Maxima III security that we’ll be escorting the Roll there at best speed…”

“...Once we repair the holes we put in her?”

“...Indeed. We’ll be along because there’s nothing more embarrassing than us saving them from a hi-jacking and releasing them to be hi-jacked again.” He prodded his companel. “Hawle to Groal,”


Outside, in the pinpricked light of space, Groal examined the impact of Galloway’s best efforts to ‘break the engines a bit’ and only just about heard the Captain’s call through his helmet as e used the lights and jetpack to manoeuvre. “Yes, Captain,” he asked.

<”How long until we can get underway?”>

“Galloway was a bit more effective than ‘a bit’,” the big Celican replied, wishing he’d not had a heavy dinner shortly before doing this. “The manifold plating’s warped and we’ll need to replace it before this thing can top 2.5. Januvitski’s replacing the interior cabling that got blown out, though. Then she’ll be able to go to her full speed when this is done. Say three hours?”

<”Right ho. We’ll try not to leave without you, big guy.”>

Groal gave a short, derisive, laugh. “You’d better not. I’m coming back for the maintenance shuttle, just in case you do.”


Cursory eyeball exam done, Groal activated the pack to bring him back down towards the Lopers’ shuttle bay and angled himself so that, when the gravity field kicked in on entering the superstructure, he didn’t slam onto the deck face first as he had done the first few times. After that he’d arranged to be teleported back aboard for a while but he’d done some training on landing over the years and had only broken his foot once in the last year. Once that was done and he emerged uninjured, Groal sorted out the replacement metalwork to be delivered whilst he got out of the suit and into the pilot’s seat of the shuttle. The material teleporter dispatched the plates to the space outside and Groal grasped them in a traction beam before pushing across to the damaged area.


“Like a surgeon with a scalpel,” Stikka observed as they watched Groal cutting free the damaged section with the Shuttles’ beam cutter.

“You’d never think that if you saw him cracking nuts,” Hawle responded. “Sledgehammer tactics and shell everywhere. But he does have an artistry about him.” He yawned, something he’d been doing a lot this last hour.

“Sir, you’ve been on watch eighteen hours,” Stikka told him.

“When this is sorted, I’ll go crash.”

“Sir, Doctor Barleycorn has expressly told me to tell her if you ever do ‘stupid hours’ on the bridge so she can medically relieve you of duty…”

Hawle did his best ‘scandalised’ look. “That sounds like mutiny!”

“I wouldn’t like to try it, sir. But it IS a medical order and I’d have to consider the legality of disobeying a medical order from the senior medical officer if…”

Hawle waved a hand. “If I weren’t tired,” he warned, “I’d order you not to tell me that Doctor Barleycorn’s ordered you to tell her about telling me to…” he paused, realising he’d lost track of the sentence. “I’m going to bed. Four hours at least. Wake me if anything goes bang.” He stood up. “Never mind. If anything goes bang, the going bang will wake me.” he shook his head. “I need sleep. The bridge is yours.”


And, as the night moved towards day, Polva realised he might just be available at the classmate’s thing after all...
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Eighteen hours!? I know rabbits have a lot of stamina but THAT is ridiculous! Wonder how Hawle will make it up to Elena. ;)
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

I mentioned Cameos. I mentioned Pirates. Who else could I have meant?

Eleven

Sarah sat back on the sofa in her quarters living room and kicked her boots off to let the air get to her feet. She felt them expand at least a shoe size in her imagination as she closed her eyes and tried not to concentrate on anything for the next thirty seconds as Ed Polva finished getting dinner from the machine. “You realise I have a sensitive nose, right,” the Russellian asked her, bringing over his dinner and the ‘Mac & Cheese on toast’ thing Sarah had ordered. With ketchup. He settled in next to her and handed her the ‘food’ with a laptray.

“Means y’c’n track me from a mile away,” she replied, letting her accent flow before leaning over and kissing his cheek. “Nev’r know when summat like that’ll be useful.”

“This… is actually true,” he told her, before leaning over and licking her neck in reply to her kiss. He laughed as she reflexively jabbed her shoulder up. “So, we have a twenty six hour stop at Maxima III, I hear?”

Sarah sighed. “All that time and no-where to go,” She shuffled up on the sofa and started sawing away at the burnt bread beneath the overly sauced pasta.

“Could always come to an art gallery with me,” Polva offered nonchalantly, sticking a fork in his food and cutting a chunk free.

“You,” Sarah scoffed, looking around at the nearly blank walls of their apartment, “at an art gallery? You’re not into art!”

“Not usually,” he admitted after taking a minute to chew and swallow. “But I’ve had an invite to the Maxima III gallery for the opening of an exhibit tomorrow night. As we’ll be there…”

Sarah coughed up a tube of pasta. “Why would you get an invite to…”

Polva grinned slightly. “It’s not what,” he said, “or why,” he added quickly. “It’s WHO.”

Now Sarah gasped slightly. “You’re kidding?” She slapped him on the chest. “I’m finally gonna find out if you’re telling the truth, aren’t I?”

Polva sat back and looked at her in amusement. “You mean you didn’t believe it when he sent you a birthday card?”

Sarah laughed. “Anyone can send an E-Card, love.” She kissed his mouth gently before getting back to her own food. “I’ll need summat to wear,” she added.


Hawle got his light grey jacket on and shrugged it into compliance when it wrinkled on his shoulders. He fussed at the tightness and heavyset form of the jeans he needed to wear due to it being colonial winter on Maxima III and put his back up comm in his pocket before getting his boots on. Checking he had everything and worrying that he’d forgotten his keys when he’d never had any, he left his quarters and stopped as he almost walked into Colleen. “You look like a docker,” she goaded.

“Not that you’d know what one of those looks like, hm?” He grinned up at her, a glint in his eye.

She put a hand to her chest and put on a shocked air. “How dare you, sir! Of course I know what a docker looks like!” A wry grin appeared. “I often saw them loading daddy’s ships! I’m just not used to seeing you look like one.”

“You don’t think I can pull off rough and butch?”

“I don’t think you’ve done a days manual labour in a decade.”

He shrugged. “You could be right about that,” he confessed. “But, according to Jaqui, who got it from a reliable source, this is what the reliable sources reliable source wants. Takes me back to early days on the colonies, I can tell you.”

“No weapons?”

“Again, just how they want it. But it’s in public, which is just how I’d prefer it. I’m leaving Greyson in charge up here. I understand you’re making headway on repatriating the Roll refugees?”

“Well, it’s not like I haven’t had experience. But a first face to face with the colonial rights officer will probably do better than the vidlinks I’ve had to put up with for the last day.” She paused. “Good luck to you, Commander.” She bowed and departed so he could proceed to the teleport room.


As he entered, Sarina fidgeted in a lumberjack shirt and equally heavy trousers. “Looking good, Sarina,” he remarked, noting her scowl as she looked back at him.

“It better be cold down there,” she warned.

“Others gone on ahead,” he asked.

“As planned.”

“Right. We better get down there and join them. Send us down, Chiefy.”

“Can’t be a chief, sir,” the operator replied, “I’m the only one in my department.”


“I need to have a word with her,” Hawle announced as he stepped into the cafe close to the colonial capitals small shipping port.

“Perhaps you should make Polva official?”

“He’s still training. Apparently Stikka’s still got the shakes after Polva beamed him twice a few days back.”

“You realise that’s a total double entendre, don’t you,” Sarina asked, pulling back the metal chair on the tiles, making a screeching noise that contorted Hawle’s face as he glanced around at the others in the room. Faces he knew. Faces he didn’t. Dober Canines, young Raitchians and Lappineans running around and a couple of Lappinean waitresses taking orders and trying to stop the Raitchian boy peeking up their dresses by swatting him on the nose whenever he tried.

A waitress came over for their order. Hawle kept to himself the thought that he’d rather chance something from Doctor Barleycorns’ infectious contagion response drawer than try something from here but he relented and chose a Kimmaweed sandwich and a Maxinna Tea. Raven chose a Burger that probably wasn’t going to be the promised Hallameat.

“And we’ll have two Chakasteaks. Extra rare,” said a strong voice from behind the waitress. She turned and saw two Celicans closer than she would have liked. Both were powerful figures who used her backwards hop of surprise as their chance to take the seats opposite Hawle and Raven.

“Should have known it’d be you,” Hawle said after snorting a laugh. He looked the older one directly in the eye and ignored the scar on his face. “Good day, Savra.”
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Quite a fun chapter you have posted here! Great work!
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

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Twelve

“What is it you want to tell us, Aldair,” Savra said, taking a glance at Raven as she tensed. “If I can call you that.”

Hawle wondered if he needed a napkin as the food started to arrive. Or some sort of antitoxin tablet. He nervously examined it and wondered what Kirkwall would make of this mess. Possibly something edible. “Well, I’m not calling you anything that’d draw attention to us, Savra, so Aldair’s fine. For now.” he patted Sarina’s arm. “Calm down, Sarina. All friends here.”

She remained tense but wondered if there was some way she could act friendly with these people. Eventually she decided on an icebreaker and turned to the other, slightly younger, Celican. “I like the teeth,” she groused.

“Thanks,” he responded, meaning it as much as she did, “they were cheap.” He playfully clacked the metal dentures together. “But, back to the subject…”

“Hmm.” Hawle decided he’d get the meeting out of the way before the… whatever that was. “You noted we brought in the Roll with us?” A sip of the drink. “Malfunctioning. Ship in need of repair. Transponder failing and comms down. What you may not know is that we encountered Wilta Hkanna on that ship. And his crew.” Hawle watched the muscles tense under Savra’s fur. The jaw tensed. “We have him in colonial custody. And his crew. Due to a late change and humanitarian reasons…” He saw an uncertain look between Savra and his first… Gallen, according to the files… and guessed he’d used an unfamiliar word. He waved a hand. “It’s a word that seems to mean ‘do the right thing’. I have Humans on my bridge, I’ve picked up a few colloquialisms. Anyhow, the Roll wasn’t carrying machinery. It was carrying refugees from Astina IV. Round about three hundred of them.”

“Which Hkanna was planning to sell,” Savra growled, his claws digging into the table. “Find him a hole deep enough to vanish in, Aldair. If We find him, you don’t want to imagine what we’ll do to him. But that could have been dealt with in other ways. You needed a meet. Why?”

“I need to know some things,” Hawle told him. “Mostly about someone from Clan Castoran called ‘Yalla’…”

“Yilla,” Raven corrected.

“I’m not sure I can tell you anything about him,” Savra said, looking like he was getting ready to leave.

“You might want to,” Aldair told his friendly enemy. “It seems he can’t be trusted. Hkanna’s ship was sabotaged by the message he received from Yalla. A deliberately corrupted file infected his electrical system and was in the business of shutting down all his systems.” He placed his back up comm on the table and engaged the tiny screen for the others to watch. He played back the recording of the Captain’s message. “We’ve also got a sealed copy of that file on there if you want it.”

Savra nodded. “I’ll have my technical person check it on an isolated system. I’ll get back to you with the results tomorrow. Here. Same time.”

“Will we see the same people in the cafe,” Hawle asked. “Dober in the corner? The Tabby by the door? I’m not too sure about the two Raitchian children…”

“Are you saying the Lappinean at the bar and the Mican at the music machine aren’t yours, Aldair?” He took a bite from his meal and offered a hand whilst he was chewing.

“Paranoia’s always been a good friend of ours,” Gallen put in, a little irked that Hawle had spotted Barnabus and Shandy on their first, sort of official, mission but gratified by the ‘not too sure’ bit. Pantha had been extremely reluctant to risk him but he’d talked her into it and how often did he and Shandy get to play on a planet anyhow?

“We’ll speak tomorrow, Aldair,” Savra asserted, finishing his food after his first officer and standing to leave.

Hawle noted the others not shifting. Point to them, he supposed. “Wait a moment,” he said, after the door out closed, “he never paid…” He smiled ruefully as the bill arrived. “Is this a tip colony or a no tip one,” he asked Raven.

She shrugged.


Sarah and Doctor Barleycorn – Night to her friends – were taking a little time to pick out an outfit for tonight’s whatever it was at the art gallery. Maxima III was a well off colony with up and coming fashions but Sarah was wishing the Loper had a full time tailor on board as she looked through the gowns and dresses available, all of which seemed to be be designed for species with tails. “What do you think of this,” the Bristolian asked, holding up a blue dress that reached clear to the floor.

“Looks like it could work,” the Mican replied carefully. “although you’d have to be really fast on the alterations.” She sighed and looked over to the tailor’s assistant. “Is there anywhere close by that does Human dressing up clothes? For rent or purchase?”

“Altair IV,” the Lappinean remarked, in a semi-humourous tone. “No, wait,” she added, in thought, “there is Entwhistle’s on Passelby street. Opened about a month back. I think they’ve got a Human on the staff so they’ll likely have some. Sorry I couldn’t do much to help you.”

“Well, you could give us directions,” Sarah asked, putting a five credit donation into a charity machine on the counter and taking a little pack of sweets.


They walked the street down to the new establishment, dodging shoppers and children and, on one occasion, stopping for a photo with a young local who wanted a picture to prove he’d met a Human. They talked of Polva and the Mican Detective Brutan that Night was seeing whenever they got the chance. “So,” Night asked, “how long before you get one of these dress things in white?”

Sarah snorted as they almost passed by the shop they were headed for. It was small and almost stuck between two larger stores. “It’s a bit long term, yeah. Under Canine laws he kinda has to ask again. I have no clue why but I assume it’s something to do with being ‘in heat’?”

“Like I’d know,”Night told her. “I only do biology, not law. You going to say ‘yes’ and get a move on?”

Sarah took a breath and slung her hair over her shoulder. “Had a bad time the first time, Night. But Edalmar Polva isn’t Peter O’Neill. So yeah.” She cheered inwardly as a Human sales associate came into view.
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

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Some great work as usual once again! Loving how this is moving along!
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

In the next part a character based on a forumite shows up. (And I did consult them on it.)
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

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Thirteen.

“Are you ready,” Polva asked from the living room, adjusting the cufflinks on the suit he was wearing for the first time in years. It pulled a little on his chest but that was as nothing compared to the pull from inside his chest as he thought ahead to memories of the past. School and pranks flustered through to his mind. Things like painting the front of the school with luminous paint that declared the name of the school’s biggest bully so it was thought he’d done it and gotten expelled or sneaking plastic bugs into others foods came to mind. Whereas, of course, Polva had gone on to be a something of a nothing in a life he loved, his friend had gone on to be something of a someone in the field of art. And now he was opening an exhibition here.

“Does this make me look ready,” Sarah asked, moving into the room in a long, straight, dress in shining blue that looked like it weighed pretty much nothing. It left her arms free for the white gloves and accentuated the Aldinian Sapphire necklace Sarah wore for high class events. It was one of the few expensive items she possessed. She had her head hair under control, for once; tied up behind her head and she’d found shoes that matched the dress from somewhere. He appreciated that they weren’t boots.

“Can you move in shoes like that,” he asked. He stepped forward to take her arm in hand. “And you look beautiful, by the way.”

She hooked his arm and kissed his jawline, making his tail fan her dress. “You’ve always looked good in a suit,” she told him before gesturing to the door. “Shall we proceed?”

The pair walked from their apartment.


The evening was nearly in full swing down in the gallery area, patrons of the arts and local business types examining the works of varying artists and sipping various mid-price drinks that threatened to make some overly convivial and many merely tolerable as they entered the establishment, checking in on the machine after passing the external guards provided by the local force. “I’m feeling underdressed,” Sarah mused quietly, seeing the outfits the other females were wearing that put her dress to shame.

“The quality of their outfits does not indicate the quality of the person wearing it,” Polva replied, possibly a little too loudly.

“Good of you to say,” Sarah commented, helping herself to a canapé that looked suspiciously like a corned beef vol-au-vent. She flicked a look at him. “Or is that a quote?”

“It’s from ‘The danger, the stranger and the harmony’, isn’t it,” asked a lightly accented voice from behind them. Sarah turned as Polva smiled to see a Russellian with a slightly darker range of facial markings than his wearing a cream suit and slightly off colour shoes standing there with the broadest smile all over his face and his tail going like a half propeller. “If I were any happier,” the figure said, stepping forward to embrace Polva, “you could put me in water…”

“...and call me a motorboat,” Polva echoed, hugging his friend and patting him on the back. “You remember?”

“How could I forget? Edelmar Polva is in the house.” He stepped back and glanced to Sarah, who was still holding the vol-au-vent. “And he’s forgetting his manners,” he continued, offering a hand.

“Sorry,” he said as Sarah took the hand, only to have their host take it up to his nose and take in her scent. “Rydran, this is Sarah Chapston, my fiancee. Sarah Chapston, this is Rhydran Warrick, unbelievably famous artist in his own lifetime.”

“Blame my publicist and that endorsement from President Taylin,” Rydran asked.


“So,” he asked Sarah, as she looked at one of his works, an angular collection of shapes that coalesced into understandable art despite missing ninety percent of the curved lines she’d normally expect to see, “what do you think?”

She sensed his hope as she tried to sum it up. “I’m no art critic,” she confessed, meaning to continue.

“Which is exactly the sort of person I’m needing to hear from,” the artist insisted. “All this lot. Collectors and showoffs. It means more to them to have my name on their wall than it does to have the art up there. I have no preconceptions about the quality of my own art other than it makes me happy, symbolising my own interpretations of heavens, hells…” He gave a wry smile as Polva hunted down an attendant with some drinks. “...superheroes… I used to do them all the time, y’know? After Ed introduced me to them. There was just something about the stirring nature of the outfits on the page, you know?”

Sarah nodded, filing away that knowledge about Ed. “He talks about you, you know? Often brings up the things you and him used to get up to.”

“Oh, like what?”

Sarah smirked. “Custard.”

The artist cringed. “Oh, lor’ he told you about that?”

“He does regret he never kept in touch…”

Rydran looked around. “Where’s he gone n.. Oh, the Duchess has him. Probably thinks he’s me. I’ll rescue him soon. Heh. What I regret?” he shrugged. “I often regret I don’t have his life, Sarah. I mean,” he continued, “I have all this and all the pressure. So many of our classmates have gone on to big things in business. Good money but they don’t smile half as much as they used to. Nor do I, really. I got lucky, giving one of my paintings to a girl I didn’t know was the President’s niece. But so many of those others are doing the work they were expected to do. Ed never did that. He wanted to be an engineer. He didn’t have the funds for that but he kept following that dream. He went into maintenance and, through that, he became a technician on a starship and met his soulmate. Yes, I do keep an eye on social medias when it comes to my friends. Training to be a teleport operator, I believe?”

“Yup. He’ll get the qualification soon. You envy him? He envies you.”

“You kidding,” Rydran remarked as Polva extricated himself and headed back over. “I envy me. But only half the time. You escaped,” he chuckled.

“Yeah,” a slightly dishevelled Polva replied, offering the drinks with one hand as he pointed backwards, “but I think I just devalued your ‘sinnamon rise’ by about fifteen percent. Sorry.”

“Not to worry. You were saying what you thought about this, Sarah? Or about to, anyhow.”

“Well, it’s… I see something of Quent…”

“So, you’re a Brit human,” the artist guessed. “It’s mostly – not always, but mostly – the Brit Humans who get the Blake influence. It’s also overpriced. Or it would be if I wasn’t giving it away as a wedding present.”

“Whose wedding,” Sarah asked, taking her drink in two.

“Yours, of course,” he opined, putting hands behind his back and moving off. “Shall we continue the tour,” he asked the stunned pair.
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Looks like Hawle isn't the only one that has to deal with custard in some way then. XD Nice chapter!
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

Phone home... And can he keep the secret?

Fourteen

<”You still haven’t decorated your quarters,”> Elena queried from the expanse of her office on Cora II. It was somewhere around about midday there, according to the clock in the bottom left of the screen and Hawle envied her the sunset she’d be seeing in about eight hours by his reckoning.

“Well,” he replied, letting the new camera follow him around the room as it was supposed to, “there barely seemed a point in hanging pictures when every knock can knock them off the walls.”

<”The point, Aldair,”> Elena countered, <”is to brighten up the place. Don’t you ever get bored of staring at unbroken, grey, walls?”>

“Gawd, I’d hope not,” he replied, getting a glass of tea from the dispenser. “I’m surrounded by grey walls on a twenty-four seven basis and I gotta hope they stay unbroken! Anyhow,” he added, “I called to find out news from home. How’s things in the last few days?”

Elena pretended she hadn’t noted him calling Cora II ‘home’ and thought to herself for a few seconds as her assistant, Mercy, put a new padd on her desk. “Well, Salla’s taken Samnar for his first check up… but Salla will want to tell Karlavan that he passed with flying colours so don’t you dare...”>

Hawle held up his hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“<”I notice you’re in extreme casual mode right now, Aldair. Any reason or is it casual Frantay?”>

He chuckled. “I had to speak to undesirable types and figured the official look…”

Now it was Elena’s turn to chuckle. <”As official as you get, anyway,”> she interrupted.

Hawle held his hands up in acceptance of the point. “Even that. I have a feeling it was more about Sav… them not wanting to be seen with us as much as us with them.”

<”Oh, it’s that one,”> Elena chirped as Hawle reached for an overhead compartment to put a book away and get somethings else out. <”The one Hawthorne calls ‘hunky’?”>

Hawle thought of his cousin Hawthorne Plebar, who captained a Council science ship in the region. He’d started to get to know her again, establishing contact between himself and the home warren for the first time in decades. “He’s not good enough for her.”

<”That’s probably why she’d like to see him again,”> Elena replied slyly, winking.

“Ew, there goes my sleep tonight.” He dropped back into his chair so Elena could see the Captains epaulettes he’d just put on.

She snorted a laugh. <”Those look daft on that jacket,”> she professed.

“You think the crew will recognise me without them?” He sighed and crossed his legs. “I miss the sunsets, you know?”

<”Just the sunsets?”>

“Well, the company as well. The Universe plotting against us, we should be back in about ten days.” He checked the padd on the table, as though it had any data on it and wasn’t blank. “We pass on the information to sector Command and they run with it or our contact thanks us for the help and says ‘go away, we’ll deal with it’ and we get back on with helping the colony we were supposed to be heading for. There’s no sane reason for it to be us needing to do anything with this information…”

<”Which probably means you’re going to be right at the heart of it,”> Elena guessed, Hawle shrugged and bobbed his head in reply. “<Should I cancel our opera tickets?”>

“Nah, keep them in play. We may well get back in time.”

<”You’d better, Aldair. I doubt they’ll rebook AGAIN.”> Her eye twinkled as she reached forward to turn the link off.

Hawle reclined back in the chair, “Oh, I’m in so much trouble…” He smacked himself in the face with a cushion.


“How’d things go, Commander,” Stikka asked Raven as she chose to relieve him on the bridge. She’d changed back into her usual uniform before entering the scene and she glanced at the Racon as she sat with the remnants of a sandwich in her hand.

“Information given and food terrible,” she replied. “Got back up and Kirkwall was shut for the night. Bit irritated.”

“So… Pirates? Did they take the info padd?”

Sarina took a bite from the sandwich she’d found in the dispensary machines and chewed before swallowing. “Yup. Captain says we’re not to turn the signal on or trace it. Reckons their Captain would suspect it was infected anyway so he’d move to counteract it and it’d prove we can’t be trusted. This way we’ll show we can be trusted and we can trace them if he doesn’t show up. Or something.”

Stikka processed that. He was sure it made sense… somewhere. “O….kay,” he said eventually. “What do you think they’ll do?”

“Pirates are pains in the rump, Greyson. Some’ll stick you as soon as they see you. Some’ll play nice until they see an opportunity. Some are in it for the money, some for the crew and some to let things burn. From the squidge of information I have about this guy? He’s a crew type, not a total sociopath. But he has warrants on seventeen planets in the patch so he’s NOT a nice guy nor a good one.”

“Sounds like someone’s talking about me,” Hawle said as he entered the bridge and hopped over the barrier into his seat. “It’s a good job no-one was using this,” he admitted after landing. “Might have been inconvenient, having a Lappinean for a hat. How’s things with the Roll, Stikka? Have we got our ambassador back yet or is she lost in a mountain of red tape?”

“I believe she has returned to us unbowed, Captain,” Stikka said gallantly, “but you’d need to ask her if she was successful. But you’ll need to ask after she’s gotten back. She went out again.” Hawle looked at him. “Apparently there’s an Art exhibition going on? Rydran is here.”

Hawle paled. “Raven,” he intoned.

“Already forgetting it, sir. Elena won’t hear it from me.”

“She’d insist I buy something, Greyson,” the Captain told the bewildered Racon. “I can’t afford something by him. She keeps insisting I decorate my quarters.”

The Racon nodded. “Of course. She’s gone down to an exhibition by… a local artist.”

“Appreciated. We’ll just need to wait for Sav…” He paused and examined his 2nd Officer’s face. “Did you just edit your own memory?”

“It seemed prudent.”

Hawle looked a little exasperated. “Why would you DO that? You could have just lied!”

Stikka looked curious. “Lie to a colonial representative, sir? Why would I do that and add to lying to you just now?”

“Because you… Just lied to me?” He grinned. “Well done, Stikka. Never lie to me again. That’s an order.”

“Of course, sir,” Stikka replied, undeleting the file.
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

This was a very fun little chapter that you put up! Can't wait for the next installment!
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

A quick trip to see the inhabitants of a certain other ship...

FIFTEEN

In the dark, the comm was beeping and annoying the Captain whilst he lay in bed. He glanced at his clock to see it was near three in the morning and complained to the lady lying to his left that he was going to have to get up. “Want me to go,” she asked.

“Stay,” he commanded, taking out a pair of metal cuffs and snapping one around her wrist. He attached the other to a bar that was fixed to the wall as she complained. Then he kissed her savagely and stepped free of the bed to stride naked across to the door. He closed it behind him and walked to the vidcom panel to snap it on. “This better be good,” Savra snarled to his communications officer.

<”Can’t be helped, Cap’n,”> The Mican replied, eyeline visibly going down to see what he could see. <”Got a response from our Council about what that other Captain told us. I’ll send it through to your terminal.”>

“Right. Wittrick? You don’t need your eyes to do your job, do you?” Savra noted the implied threat had the desired effect and Wittrick’s eyes locked on to where his face was on the screen. “Has Hawle activated the tracer on that comm yet?”

<”No, sir, I don’t know why..?”>

“It’s not important that you know,” Savra declared. “It’s only important that I do and no-one deletes it. Is Pantha back?”

The Mican checked. <”Yes, Cap’n. Operation successful, apparently. She reckons it won’t be noticed for a few days.”>

Savra snorted his agreement. It would have been noticed much sooner if people hadn’t been diverted by the main city’s party tonight. It had left the other cities pleasures more open to entrepreneurs like himself and his crew and they’d make something of a profit off this one as well as encourage trust between them and the other council if they could. He’d been happy when the call had come about the ‘go-between’s request. It had given him an excuse to be here, over the distant continent, right when he wanted to be here. “Right. I’ll debrief them in the morning. Send the message.”

<”Of course, sir. Uh, what do you plan to do with the lady?”>

Savra growled. “Nothing you need to know about!” He stabbed at the button to end the communication and read the information sent before pondering the question of the lady, not that she was a good lady, of course. Those didn’t tend to turn on their employers this easily. They’d profited enough, he reckoned, but not so much they needed to leave no traces. Plus it was useful to have contacts in the sphere and, frankly, she was in it as deep as they were. More so, perhaps. He took a couple of somethings that squeaked and broke one of their necks to eat it himself before taking the other in to the Vixen in the bedroom. He dangled it by its tail so she could see it and she licked her lips as he closed the door behind him.

He threw it to her and she caught it with her free hand. Unable to use her other hand right now, she put it to her mouth and ‘kissed’ it to death before eating it. “You don’t mind blood in the bed,” she asked as he lay down next to her.

“Wouldn’t be the first,” he answered, hoisting himself sideways, onto a shoulder to take in her breath. “Your information came through, by the way. 20K transferred, as agreed.” He kissed her gently. “Best stay on holiday for the rest of the week.” He chewed the bit of meat she’d transferred over during the kiss.

“Here,” she asked, jiggling the cuff.

“Nah. We’ll be heading out today.” He pushed himself atop her. “But we have a few hours,” he added.


Hastur hated duty like this. There were many things she’d done in his lifetime but training kids to act like kids in public was undoubtedly the hardest to get right. Gallen had told the Dober Canine that he thought the reason the Rabbit might have picked the pair out yesterday was they were acting TOO like unsupervised children in a public place but she wasn’t accepting it was more about her than them and it must have been the two ragamuffins that had given themselves away.

Dastari or, as he preferred to be known, Barnabus, circled back to her after leaving the toy store he’d just been perusing and sat down at her table to slurp the drink she’d bought for him before Shandy got back from the public conveniences she’d needed after a little too much of the soda. “Some good stuff in there,” Barnabus confided, glancing at his girlfriend as he thought of her in the tiara he’d seen on aisle three. Silver effect with ruby style stones and Diamante stones. None of it real, of course, but pretty enough.

Hastur leaned forward. “STILL in there, I hope?”

He nodded. He’d been tempted but it was too big for him to sneak. “Three cameras,” he confided, scritching the layout onto a napkin. He detailed where the cameras watched and where the guards were stationed and where the blind spots were. Hastur nodded, like she had for Shandy a half hour back in the hardware store. This wasn’t about theft but scouting the locations and restraining themselves. Part of her part was watching to see if guards observed them leaving and, this time, none had. They were both dressed more or less appropriately for the shops and she’d tasked them with finding something for each other, not themselves and she’d buy them if the two did well. She just hoped Shandy had learned to read currency better these last few months as she stood up and took their hands. “Let’s go test your work, shall we?”

Shandy ‘yeeped’ with excitement. Hastur glared at her.

“Sorry.”


The afternoon came by and Savra returned to the cafe with Gallen in tow. Janus and Kurmak were already in place, cautiously watching a couple of others who Savra reckoned were Hawle’s from the way they were watching everyone else and focussing on Janus and Kurmak. They sat down before Hawle and Raven arrived and took up their seats. Savra ordered for coffees. “The tracking attempt wasn’t appreciated,” he growled, fixing the Rabbit with a glare as he swiped the comm Hawle had given him across the table. The Feline first took it and pocketed it.

“Nor was it enacted,” Hawle replied carefully. “Thanks for returning it,” he added. “They take them all out of our budget, you know?”

“The perils of working for bureaucrats and accountants. Private enterprise is more honourable.”

“Unless you count kickbacks,” Hawle countered. “It’s a good job I don’t know you, by the way. There’s still a warrant on some guy who looks like you for the, um, disposal, of a freighter captain?” He wheedled his tone a touch. “I take it you don’t know him?”

Savra thought back on the event the Commander was referring to. “I can honestly say I’ve never met whoever you’re talking about.”

“Good, good. Did you find out about the, uh, information?”

“The ‘information’,” Savra repeated, “is wanted dead or alive. By everyone. Ten ships dead by his virus so far. Four hundred dead. All the clans want him. And,” Savra sighed, “to prevent a possible all-out war, you have to get him first.”
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

This was a good chapter! However you KNOW what I am waiting for since you told me it will be happening. ;)
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

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SIXTEEN

Hawle sat at the business end of the conference table as he poured his water and laid the glass on the table. Colleen Una and, by vidlink, Henry Postlethwaite, were with Stikka as they waited for the full information from Hawle, who was still in his off duty clothing after he’d hurried back from the meeting.

<”So, what did Savra say,”> Postlethwaite asked directly.

Hawle swallowed a gulp of water. “I never said it was Savra I met,” he protested. “Just an ‘informed party’.”

<”Of course,”> Henry allowed. <”After all, there ARE standing orders with regards him.”>

Hawle shrugged. “I’ve seen his ship. I’m all for a fight but he’s twice our size with good firepower. I’d need back up. Anyhow, the ‘informed party’ tells me that Yilla Sobrii, a Castoran on Perigaa III is the person IOC has been looking for as the next link in their chain. Thing is, though, he’s gone rogue. Apparently, he’s sold about a dozen infected lists to Captains from varying clans, taken the money without sending a portion up the clan hierarchy and vanished. The clans are annoyed.”

<”Annoyed is probably too quiet a word for it,”> Henry contributed.

“OK, Peeved. Murderous, in fact. They’re on the brink of war.” He sat forward. “With each other. My ‘source’ informs me that the Clans are already accusing each other of hiding Yilla in exchange for his services. They steal these lists from each other all the time so the virus has spread through a load of their ships. The ‘guide’ says that, as long as no-one knows who has him, paranoia will grow. Sooner, rather than later, the firing will begin.”

“And, if we grab him first,” Colleen commented, “they stop firing at each other and start firing at us?”

Hawle shrugged again. “Yeah, there is that downside to it, I suppose.”

<”Good job you have the fastest engines in the fleet,”> Henry observed.

Stikka rolled his eyes.

“I had a feeling you’d say that, sir,” Hawle observed. “I take it we’re on our way to Perigaa III?”

<”And I’m doing my seemingly quarterly begging call to central command to get temporary back up into the patch.”> Henry adjusted himself in his seat. <”I’ll see if I can get you investigative assistance there. There’s no IOC station but there are a few agents in the sector might be able to rendezvous with you there. Postlethwaite out.”>

The screen went blank and Hawle saw his own reflection in it for a second or two before shifting slightly. “Righty-ho.” he clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “We’re in it up to our ears. Colleen, can you find out about the political situation on Perigaa III. Friendly, hostile, ambiguous, that sort of thing?”

“I’ll take the local police,” someone said from the corner of the room, making Hawle jump and almost fall from his chair.

“Gawd, Jaqui,” he laughed, putting a hand to his chest, “I’d almost forgotten you were here.”

“Apologies, sir,” she replied, fighting the smile that would prove her words a total lie. “Just keeping in practice. I can make discrete enquiries as to who to trust.”

Hawle nodded and stood his left ear back up. “Stikka,” he said, standing up, “we better go tell Cinderella the ball’s over and she needs to get her foot down hard enough to break the glass slipper.”

The others looked totally bewildered but the Racon simply guessed his Lappinean Captain was making a culture reference to something so he accessed ‘Cinderella’ in his database and read through the story in a half second. “Of course, sir,” he put in, having accessed the version with transformed Mice and imagining the Captain as a footman for… “Should we call Technician Polva ‘Prince Charming’, sir?”

“Not on your nellie,” Hawle retorted, “Royalty HATE being treated as technicians.”


They stepped out of the room and Colleen made her way down to the canteen with a datapadd to start looking into the colony. She opened the door and swished in as Cedar finished serving the last half dozen of the lunch crowd. She tamped her foot as the Feline in front demurred on what they wanted. Colleen considered she’d made herself more ‘of the people’ since she’d come on board and she never used her rank to push herself to the head of the queue. She never had, in fact, but now she never even considered it. Her father would be appalled at being made to wait. When it was her time, she ordered some Bakkaberry pie and coffee.

“I’ll bring it over,” Cedar chirped. “Table four’s free.”

Colleen made her way over to the corner table, walked back to where the cloth was being held out by an arm, took it and walked back to clear crumbs off the top. She sat herself down and started work.

“I take it we’re not headed back to Cora II,” Cedar opined as he walked over with the ‘supplies’.

“Why do you assume that,” she asked as he placed the items down.

“You only order Bakkaberry pie when you’re doing urgent research,” he told her as the dollop of Creme broke in half and dropped to the bowl from atop the pie. “And you only do urgent research when we’re going somewhere unexpected.”

She cocked her head at her best friend. “I can’t be that predictable, surely?”

“I know my food orders.” he resisted the impulse to look under her arm at where the ship was headed. “So..?”

She relented. “Perigaa III. Know it?”

“Exports Rice, berries and some of the best cheeses in the sector,” Cedar informed her. “There’s a few local exporters that control about eighty percent of their output. Wholesalers notice the same names popping up time after time. Why we going there?”

“Because we’ve been told to,” Colleen grinned before covering his head with his cloth. “Don’t be nosey!” She considered. “Can you ask for the names of those exporters, Cedar? They may have influence on the political scene.”

Cedar peeked out from under the cloth as he held both corners up. “Thought I wasn’t being nosey? I’ll see what I can do.” He flipped the cloth over his shoulder and retreated to serve the next customer.


“Chappers,” Hawle said as the pair returned to the bridge, “get us underway, would you?”

“Sir,” she replied, somewhat confused.

“Oh.” Hawle cracked an embarrassed smile and clicked his fingers. “Forgot to tell you where for. Sorry. Oh! And I heard you got re-engaged last night?”

“Yes, sir,” she responded, examining the ring as though she’d just got it. “Ceremony’s in a fortnight. If we’re on Cora II.”

“We might be. If Dawton gets clearance from Colony control and you put us on course for Perigaa III in the next half minute.”

“Right, sir,” she said, plotting the route as Hawle took his seat.

“We in it again, Captain,” Raven asked.

“Up to the tips of your ears,” Hawle remarked. “Which means I’m in deeper than you.”

“What about me,” Stikka asked.

“On a ledge, watching us sink.”

“Oh, that’s all right then.”


Sarah got them underway.
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Had to laugh that he said that Stikka is on a ledge watching them sink down. Hope Stikka will be able to help!
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

Remember 'The Fennec'?

Seventeen

The Loper hung in space around about an hour, at top speed, from Perigaa III and Hawle was sat on the bridge, wishing he had a stool top put his feet up on. The engine manifolds were being purged and scrubbed, Barleycorn and Fuze were working on the light surgeries they’d had to put on hold due to refugees and being on alert, Raven was beating a fighting mannequin to foam rubble and sciences were analysing… something as nothing happened on the bridge. It wasn’t exactly quiet as Hawle had allowed Dawton to play some music at low level whilst Hawle and Stikka chatted about Waterpolo and other sports played in water.

They’d gotten on to the subject when Greyson had commented that he’d not seen a swimming pool on Cora II and how he wanted to take a dip at some point. “Reminds me of high school,” he continued. “I was fast attack.”

“You’ve always been a quick one,” Hawle replied. “But can you do that with…” He held a finger up to his ear. “...well, you know?”

“Of course. I just put in a plug to protect the input socket. Then I can go as deep as I like. Oh, and that’s no pun, by the way.”

Hawle decided not to say anything, as though his denial of the thought would have been believable anyhow. He wondered if Elena would be up for a pool at their place, even if it was open to the others sometimes. He’d mention it next time. And there was the thought of Elena in a bathing costume. Yup. A definite mention.


They were waiting for the freighter Kessa, which was carrying their loanee from IOC or wherever Henry had got one. He’d been a bit vague on it for security reasons, according to him, and Hawle wondered how long until Henry had his latest investigation of station officers. The station wasn’t known for leaks but Hawle knew that part of that was because of these regular sweeps by the Octogenarian Mican in charge. They were meeting them here, well outside Perigaa III’s orbit because the freighter wasn’t headed there and this spot was convenient for transfer. And they’d been here for thirty minutes now. Twiddling thumbs.


Colleen spoke up, breaking Hawle’s thoughts of bikini’s and Pekans. “It’s a dual colony,” she said, mentally laughing at the mental image she knew she’d just shattered. “Micans to the north, and Celicans to the south with the co-operative capital, Messical City, being in a temperate zone near the equator. The Micans have their own council, the Celicans have theirs and they both send fifteen delegates to the capital, which sends its own to make up the odd number needed. Elections every three years, Aldair.”

He knew there was no point reminding her that he was ‘Captain’ on the bridge as he wasn’t that sort. “Who will we be dealing with down there?”

“Well, as we’re looking for a Castoran, that’s probably going to be Messical City itself. A hundred thousand of varying species there and it ranks about seventh in the patch for crime and seventeenth for tourism. The main spaceport runs about five ships a day to outlying colonies and…”

Hawle looked at her curiously. “Colleen,” he asked.

“yes?”

“Did you do all your research on Galapedia?”

She settled back into her seat and looked slightly bored. “I verified every statement, Captain. It’s all accurate.”

Stikka mused on how, in the first days, he would have commented that he could have done all that in a matter of seconds but he’d long learned that people needed to do things and it didn’t help to annoy people you liked so he stayed quiet.

“Dawton,” Hawle said aloud as the music track changed. “No Heavy metal. It irritates the ears.”

“Sir,” the Human replied, changing the track to easy listening.

Hawle checked the armrest computer. The freighter was almost on them. “OK,” he stressed, “back to work. Blue alert status please. Stikka, go meet our guest in teleport control.”


The Racon second Officer stepped into the teleport room and made sure he was immaculate. He didn’t really get on with IOC as they’d been part of the intrusive investigation into him after he’d had the upgrade and they’d been the ones asking most of the questions of him. Now one of them was coming aboard. “We’re in position,” the operator assured him.

He thought of various responses to that fact that would probably get him reprimanded if a senior officer heard them so he merely accepted the fact. “Whenever you’re ready,” he told the chief who wasn’t a chief.


A figure coalesced on the pad, pulling itself back together as pulled his eyes downward from where he’d been hoping to make a good impression by establishing eye contact. There simply hadn’t been anyone there. He’d had to look down to see the tip of her sandy coloured ears and down even further to see the face. A Fennekin agent, he thought, as the diminutive Celican agent hopped off the platform, pulling her case behind her. “Yeah, I know,” she said aloud, “you figured I’d be taller, eh?” She reached out a free hand. “I’m Agent Sylvie Sana.”

“Uh,” the flustered Racon replied, taking the small hand and shaking it gently so as not to break her, “welcome aboard. I’m Lieutenant Commander Greyson Stikka. Can I take your bag?”

“Of course, Commander,” she replied brightly. “You’re the cyborg?”

He cringed. He knew what….

“Cool!” She nudged him in the side as he took her bag and surprised him with her absolute joy in the word. “How’s your chess?”

Stikka lifted her bag and wondered how much she’d stuffed into it. She wasn’t quite the usual IOC Officer. What had she asked? Ah, the chess question. “I still lose every now and again,” he claimed as they left the teleport room. “Logic can’t always compete with chaos and the untrained.”

“I still don’t like those things,” she confided after the door closed. “Compressing me into a data stream and shooting me across space, through walls and comm systems before reconstituting me like fruit juice ‘from concentrate’? I much prefer shuttles. Less chance of creating an evil computer duplicate. Or an equally nice twin to confuse people. And why do I feel you lose on purpose?”

He stopped outside her room. “The first time it was a complete shock. The Captain, of course. He’s an exponent of multi-angle thinking. But I noted that others accepted me more afterwards. I suppose it made me seem less invincible. So I throw the occasional game. Carefully, of course. It gives them a buzz.” He entered the release code and Sana tapped her own in and put her palmpad up to the reader.

“And that boosted your ego,” she replied. “Win win. Thanks, Greyson… Commander. I think this could be interesting.” She stepped in, paused and turned. “I take it I’ll be seeing the Captain in a short time,” she queried as he added her comm to ships systems.

He smiled warmly. “Ship this size? He’ll never let you avoid him, Sylvie… Agent Sana.” He stepped back and bowed flamboyantly as her door closed and she unloaded.
Commander Hawle. U.S.C. Loper. By the talented DDeer.
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Pretty sure that Hawle could convince Elena to do anything. As long as he gives her what she wants. :mrgreen: Great work!
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

Eighteen

After settling in, Agent Sana was making her way to the bridge… sort of. It wasn’t that big a ship but she was still lost. She’d found Engineering once and the Starwheel bar – or what passed for it on a small combat ship – twice and even made her was into the canteen where a FieldMican in a strange hat had given her directions and a pasty. She had needed to admit it was quite good and had gone back to compliment him but he’d been busy so she’d worked on his instructions again and found herself in the males toilets.

“Are you a bit lost,” a voice asked the erstwhile agent.

She turned around to see a Russellian in enlisted clothes… Or some version of them anyhow. The purple shirt and dungaree set hadn’t been policy for thirty years if she remembered her history lessons. Was this something of what Mr Postlethwaite had warned her about? The… eccentricities? Why was she staring at the Russellian? Oh! “Heh,” she sniffed, “I am a bit lost. I’m, er, new here? The… The IOC sent me?”

“I can see that,” the Canine replied, gently pointing to her IOC badge.

“Of course,” she half laughed. “I’m supposed to report to the Captain on the bridge but, uh, I can’t find it?”

“Well, I’ll have to escort you,” the Crewman said as another opened the door, saw a female in the room and turned around so the door closed behind them. “If you can give me a minute to, uh, wash my hands?” He gestured to the sinks.

Her ears pricked up. “Oh! Of course! I’ll, uh, wait outside.” She stepped out of the room and stood beside the door as the feline who’d just tried to come in looked at her. “Uh, inspection,” she said with a pointy toothed grin. “It’s all clear and safe. For you.”

He nodded contemptuously and walked in to carry out his ablutions.


Three minutes of whistling later, her guide stepped out and walked her up to the bridge, passing by a small rest area as they went. “Figured it’d be closer to the hull than this,” she chirped.

“Too easy to shoot a bridge in combat if it’s by the hull,” her escort, Paulva (or something like that) told her. “Means we have to keep the video links in good working order, of course.”

“Oh, of course.”

“Anyhow, here we are,” he indicated gesturing to where she could see the backside of a Raitchian working at a console. There were other sounds coming from the room, of course.


“...still say that goal was off-side,” Raven complained, tapping her claws on her armrest.

“We know, we know,” Hawle replied, leaning on an armrest. “Even though the ref said it wasn’t. And you lost three nil so it would have changed nothing.”

Raven sniffed. “At least your lot got stuffed too.”

“Yeah, flamin’… And who do we have sneaking up on us?”

Sana grinned, a twinkle in her eye. “Someone who heard you knew she was coming from about fifty paces back, sir,” she said honestly. “IOC Agent Sylvie Sana reporting for duty, Captain.”

The… was he a Pirate? He certainly looked one in his Dark blue and red jacket, bandolier, thick belt (with occupied holster) and turn over boots. Anyhow, she flinched just a bit from the sight, recognised he was wearing Captain’s epaulettes and composed herself as he spoke.

“Commander Aldair Hawle,” he announced, “Captain of the Loper. This,” he said, indicating the huge Burman Feline with the Raitchian Black band of fur across her muzzle and similarly piratical clothing, “is my first Officer, Lieutenant Commander Sarina Raven.” The feline nodded to her. “And, as you’ve met my second, now you can meet my Match!”

Match groaned at the reused gag and introduced himself. “I sometimes take the lead on nights and always on sciences.”

“Ensign Sarah Chapston here, on helm, tells me we’re some hour or so out from our destination so..?” He gestured towards his ready room. “Thanks, Polva,” he told the Russellian.

“No trouble, sir,” he replied.


Hawle sat in his office chair and put his feet up on the desk as Sana stood on the other side. He reasoned he couldn’t quite see her now and put the feet to the floor. “And what is it you’re supposed to be doing whilst you’re here, Agent Sana?”

“Uh, from what I’ve been told, I’m going to be looking into the finances of a Castoran called Yilla Sobrii and helping your security team find him.”

“Good.” Hawle produced a Carrot Baton and twirled it in his fingers before pointing it at her. “I read up on you, Agent,” he claimed. “You’re normally based on Celica. How come you’re out here?”

Sana slumped slightly. She had a feeling he’d not noticed her standing to attention and she’d been told she had to so he wasn’t going to tell her to ‘stand easy’. “There was a computing seminar on Talvary,” she told him. “I was there and I was available so…”

“You got drafted. Fair enough. Happens to all of us. And you’ve noted something about the ship too.”

She puckered her brow in a frown. “I have?”

He pointed the baton at her again before biting the end off. “No-one here stands on ceremony,” he told her before crunching away on his snack. “I’ve got the ship I want and in the place I want. I also have final say on the crew. Many of them are fully qualified operatives who didn’t quite get on with the regimented side of the service. I go for a looser regimentation. I don’t stand on ceremony and, as you can tell, I act within the rules on things like uniform. Regs say I don’t have to update them or wear the updated version so we don’t. As for the rest? My crew isn’t a crew, it’s a family. We’re all grown up – with the exception of the few kids, of course – and, as long as they do their jobs and don’t inconvenience others, I don’t much care how they do it nor how they talk to each other. Right,” he finished, clapping his hands together, “lecture over. Any questions?”

She twisted her ears about as though she was going to ask a vitally important question. She kept her hands behind her back and leaned forward. “Uh… How did you get a chef,” she asked. “Never seen one of them aboard a ship this size.”

Hawle laughed and detailed how Kirkwall and, indeed, Colleen had joined them.
Commander Hawle. U.S.C. Loper. By the talented DDeer.
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Amazee Dayzee »

Oh Hawle. Do me a favor and never change. One of these days you are gonna say something and get your just desserts for it. Even if it isn't a dessert. :lol:
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Re: THE LOPER:- The Chase

Post by Welsh Halfwit »

I'd been wondering when to use the 'Match' gag. It seemed right for here.
Commander Hawle. U.S.C. Loper. By the talented DDeer.
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