THE LOPER

[Welsh Halfwit]

1


The ship was quiet after so long at the new command centre and she wondered where everyone was. They were due out on patrol tomorrow so there should be people here, running maintenance and engineering tests but there was nothing and no-one. She’d piloted the shuttle up herself to get a feel for the systems again and thought how she’d miss the family but it was time to get back where she belonged and there was nothing she’d expected less than the exact lack of anything close to a reception committee that she’d experienced. Her accentuated senses could smell the fact that the ship had been populated a short while ago but where was everyone? She wondered if she should drop her stuff off in their… her room now but no. She had to go to the bridge, up on the third floor, and located a lift, pulling her little case behind her, into the lift. She pressed the button and travelled upship to correct level. She called out. No answer. She didn’t like it. She listened for sounds of life as she went. The silence spoke volumes and only the few beeps of the computer banks spoke to life. And the humm of the food chillers in the recreation room fifteen feet from the doorway to the bridge.


She entered and sensed someone was still here. She almost managed to turn in time before a banner dropped from the ceiling, proclaiming ‘Welcome back, Sarah’ in three foot tall silver lettering. “Human on the bridge,” Commander Aldair Hawle called, happily, from the dark corner he’d been hiding in. He stepped forward to embrace her as the door to his office opened and the rest of the bridge crew entered the room. “We missed you,” he said, hugging her tightly. “We tried other humans at the conn. None of them were up to your standards.” He looked pained as Sarina Raven, the Burman First Officer, shoved him aside so she could almost bonecrunch the Human.

“None had your wit, Chappers,” she told her. “Weird the things you get used to, eh,” she asked.

“Uff, yeah,” Sarah said, straining to breathe. “Like… breathing.” She breathed out as Raven released her. “Missed you too. Since we all met two days ago.”

Stikka, the Cyber enhanced Racon 2nd officer stepped forward uncertainly. “I, uh, understand that it’s, uh, different when you’re doing a ‘welcome home’ party, Sarah.”

She chuckled and hugged the Racon. “Nice to see you too, Stikka.” She tapped his nose. “Still keeping out of trouble?”

“I’ve not recorded anything scandalous for… at least three weeks,” he said with a sly smile. She headed around the bridge as Dawton signalled the rest of the ship that they were ok to resume normal operations now.


The silver vixen Katara stepped out of her engineering office and complained to Jan about the escapade they’d just endured. “I really, honestly, don’t see the point in that,” she complained as engineers hurried back to their positions in readying the ship for the next patrol. With the war of pirate clans flaming the spaceways, the tradelines were more imperilled than ever before in her memory. Companies were taking more and more desperate and extreme measures to reach their outposts here. Ships were travelling on their own on occasions, hoping to avoid the attention of the clans. Whilst they were run a marathon at the Rapta clan it was working almost fairly well but there were still ships being lost. The Fallir and the Savval had rescued a couple of ships recently. The Rodomont had engaged three pirate ships in the last few days, running one off its target and obliterating two that had been foolish enough to stick around and fight. Even the old explorer ship Bellaphron had engaged in combat recently. Space was getting more dangerous and this… frivolity concerned her.

“They’re just welcoming back an important piece of the puzzle, Kat,” Jan replied, opening her console to fix a small error in the wiring. “Remember that? Camaraderie?”

“I’m all for camaraderie,” Katara replied, “but only with people who do whatever I say as I’m in command.”

Jan paused for a second. “But… you just did what Commander Hawle wanted.”

Katara bristled. “He’s in command. Rule is that Command is command. MITCHUM! Get your tail to the canteen! Kirkwall’s still got that oven on the blink!”

“Right,” the Canine replied, heading off.


The Canine walked into the canteen and the Mican chef came over to him before the door closed. It smelled of cinnamon buns in here. “Good,” Cedar said aloud, “you’re here. Oven number two is on the blink again.”

“Not great for Souffles,” Mitchum replied, getting his Labran head into the offending oven after making sure the power was, indeed, down. “It’s probably the wiring,” he advised. “I mean the place was a lash up when we started it, wasn’t it,” he asked, his voice echoing in the cavity.

“I know,” Cedar replied, “I know… The whole thing needs an upgrade but it has to be in the budget and, if the budget rises too much..?”

“...The bean counters will consider removing an active kitchen from the ship,” Mitchum finished. “I’d miss you. Una not joining us on this cruise?”

“No, apparently she’s helping Elena transition into her new job as minister for refugee affairs. She’ll be with us next tour, not this one.”

Mitchum pulled his straw coloured head out of the oven and put his tools away after scanning and fixing a broken power relay. “I shall endeavour to keep you company in her absence,” he said solemnly. “Although I don’t have Coleen’s grace.”

“Or charm. Or humour. Or poise…” Cedar had to compliment him as the oven flicked into life. “Or her engineering skills. Thankfully. Talaxar, Cedar’s assistant, entered and complained that the ovens needed to be ripped out and replaced with Monta 9x’s. “Then we wouldn’t be able to afford food, Tal,” Cedar reminded him as Mitchum put his tool away. “Now, you’re on the Daychum stew tonight. Up for it?”

“Always,” the Celican replied.


After putting her stuff away, Sarah had returned to the bridge and adjusted her seat at the helm. There hadn’t been many upgrades, it seemed. Her codes still worked after the computer team had unlocked them. Something still felt off. Something…


A mint imperial hit the back of her head. She smiled. NOW she was back!

[Amazee Dayzee]

This is confirmation that you are only officially back onboard the Loper if you get hit in the head with a mint by the Commander. It makes me wonder how much of those he eats and how much he throws at his staff

[Welsh Halfwit]

2


The ship was ticking down the moments until departure. Salla and Groal had had their tour of the ship with their child and the old Lappinean nurse had talked with Barleycorn in the medical bay as Katara had shown her old boss around the engineering bay, reacquainting him with systems he’d never forgotten and showing him the upgrades he’d sent and she’d installed. She’d grumbled at the suggestions he’d made that might improve things and preened slightly at the compliments he’d given.


Barleycorn had given their hybrid child the once over, confirming what the scientists and Doctors on Cora II had told them about the boy. Having used a new chemical to enable her body to conceive almost a decade after her fertile days had finished, Samnar, known as Sam, was still a news story. He put his orange and grey arms up for auntie Barleycorn and she picked the youngster up so he could hug her with his Celican arm muscles, resting his Celican head against her cheek and playfully dropping his Lappinean ear over her face, making her chuckle at the expected joke. He smiled broadly, showing off his vulpine and lappinean teeth and the Raitchian Doctor gave him a kiss before putting him down. “He’s too heavy for me these days,” Salla told her, holding her hip.

“So I can tell,” Doctor Barleycorn replied. “Hip still giving you troubles,” she asked.

“Both of them now,” her friend admitted, deliberately not leaning on the walking stick as her son looked in Night’s desk for the lollipop he knew would be in there. Salla glanced towards him and Night knew it was time to ask someone to…

“Gilly,” she said, spotting the Raitchian computer tech in the passageway as the door opened. The younger female stopped and turned towards her. “Can I ask a favour?” She gently pushed Sam out, sucking on his lolly. “Can you take Sam down to his dad in engineering?”

Gilly’s face had brightened as she spotted Sam, who’d pretty much become an unofficial mascot for the ship. “Sure, Night,” she said, offering the hybrid a hand. He put his sticky mitt in hers and she said they’d go see his dad.

Night closed the door. “So,” she asked Salla, “no improvement, then?”

The old nurse sat creakily on the bench, refusing help. “There’s never going to be an improvement, Night, you know that.” She coughed, having held it in for as long as she could. “Thirty years in an internment camp plays havoc with your respiratory systems and your organs. The modern stuff’s slowing the progress fine but it’s not going to make me go on forever.” She gave a light half smirk. “Especially with my knees. I’m slowing down faster than my people are supposed to, Night. Seems that’s pertly due to the treatments that enabled me to have Samnar.”

Night nodded. “Oh, I know. I’ve followed the trials. Basically it supercharged what was needed for contraception and carrying but it uses everything up faster.”

“Decreases the life expectancy after the delivery stage. The child is healthy but you have less time with them.” A glint appeared in her eye. “And I’ll never regret it, you understand? He has two half sisters that adore him and they’ll help Groal after I’m gone.”

“He’ll need the help,” Night sighed.

Salla snorted and creased up with laughter, coughing intermittently.


Sarina Raven stayed stood on the opposite side of Aldairs desk to where the Lappinean with the epaulettes was sat, checking instructions on the computer, next to the vidframe picture of himself and Elena at a local amusement park of an evening, with Elena smushing him in the face with a cream pie in ‘clown school’. “What do they have planned for us this time,” she asked, not including a mention of his senior rank. “Anything interesting?”

“It’s often interesting, Sarina,” Aldair replied, noting the lack of formality. He wondered if it was coming up for promotions time again. She often sabotaged herself to make sure she never got promoted off ship. “It’s out past Karrikway this time.”

“Edge patrol again.”

“It’s important, Sarina.” He knew it to be a lie but it ws needed, reminding the border colonies that they were there. “Showing the flag and helping out. Plus there’s the thing with the pirates.” Aldair mused on it for a moment, wiping his mouth clean of the doughnut he’d just been eating. “Seems the Rapta clan’s done something that’s had a half dozen other clans declare war on them. The Rapta lot have called in some back up and the only thing stopping it from being a war is the fact neither side can legally declare it. They’re not operating – officially – out where we’re going but you know how things can go in war. They could have scouts out looking for new bases where there’s no firmly established Militias of power. So we’re going to be picking up all the information we can.” He chuckled. “Even picking up the local news publications.”

Sarina adjusted her feet. “We’re that desperate?”

“No, we just need to be that thorough.” Hawle shrugged. “at least it means I can check out the confectionery on the planets.”

“A sweet lining,” Raven replied, thinking it was going to limit her chances of leading away missions if Aldair insisted.

“Don’t worry,” Aldair replied. “Zowaix wants to run some checks on a cave system on Paltir IV whilst we’re out here and you can lead that. You’ll get time on the surface, Sarina.”

“I hate… how did Zowaix know we’d be going there? He’s booked in for a trip when we just found out where we’re going?”

“Oh, no mystery,” the Commander replied, leaning back and putting his hands behind his head. “He contacted the Chief yesterday. Found out the itinerary. You did know section chiefs can do that, yes?”

“Yes. Don’t know any that bother, though.”

“True, true.” Hawle began checking his desk.

“The doughnut’s in the top drawer, sir,” Raven advised.

“Thank you… Get Dawton to consult with his far prettier other half so we can go, will you? I’ll be out in a moment. And make sure Salla, Groal and Sam are off?”

“Will do, boss,” Sarina told him, before turning to leave, knowing she’d been dismissed so he could finish what counted for his lunch.

[Amazee Dayzee]

If Hawle doesn't stop it with all the sweets he could end up getting a belly on him unbefitting of a commander. Though I'm sure Elena ensures that he does work out and get some exercise in to shed the pounds.

[Welsh Halfwit]

3

Stikka contemplated the question for fifteen seconds, running through his records and files before allowing a small smile to creep upon his lips as he contemplated the expectant visage looking at him curiously. “Selma Rakirrian in ‘the wild woods of Ravagar,” he said patiently.

Commander Hawle threw himself back into his chair with an exasperated grunt. “This is why I never want to play ‘Minor stars’ with you, Greyson,” he told the cyber Racon. “Your memory’s too good.”

“My memory,” Stikka preened, “is digital. It’s quite an upgrade.”

“And Harvey’s installed the firewalls again?”

“Yes,” Stikka replied, almost contritely. “I still don’t know how those pop-ups got in. They were annoying.”

“Ye-es,” Hawle drawled, having a pretty good idea how the malware had gotten in. “Scanning the vidfiles for malware, spyware and everything before scanning the, uh, vidfiles should be second nature by now…” Having done with that, Hawle turned his body towards Dawton at the communications station. “Dawton, any word on go time from your missus?”

“If there was I’d have said, sir. Only asked her a minute or so back.”

“Goole,” he asked the Feline science Officer, “anything interesting on the scanners?”

“It’s Cora II, sir,” the tuxedo cat, who’d once been a bundle of nerves under the domination of section head Zowaix before getting to sit on the bridge regularly., “the only fascinating anomaly around is us.”

Hawle sat back. “Is it too late to rule by fear?”


“I’d say so, sir,” Chapston replied from the helm, knowing they’d switch to a more professional bearing when underway. But the mints to the head would continue. She grinned as she made sure she was acclimatised to the instruments again.

“Hush, human,” Aldair chuckled. “How’s your nasal senses?”

Sarah, who’d borne a hybrid child with her Russellian husband and had developed something closer to a Canine’s sense of smell as an unexpected side effect, turned in her chair and mouthed her response to the Captain. Stikka leaned over. “I believe this is what’s called ‘playing along’, sir. You did tell her to be quiet before asking.”

“I got that, Greyson.” He countermanded his instruction and let her tell him that it was still higher than Human norms. “If they were find out about how it’s been done, perhaps they can accentuate Dawton’s hearing. He’s a brilliant communications officer but… with those ears?”

“I heard that, sir,” Dawton replied, eliciting chuckles from the others. “’My missus has just called, sir. We’ve got clearance to depart.”

“Thank her for me,” Hawle replied. “Chappers, lay in a course for Sobley, would you? If you remember how?”

“I fuggur I recall, sir,” Sarah replied, turning around and exaggerating her accent.

Stikka glanced over. “We have a new person for Jaqui’s security force joining us there,” he reported, being more privy to the new crew members than the Commander did.

Hawle quirked an ear and widened one of his eyes at the officer, who was clearly playing games with him now. The grin told him that. “Do I need to order you to tell me,” he asked.

“I suppose not. It’s Rakell, the Celican/Varkonian cross child you rescued with the Bellaphron.”

Hawle sat back and let out something akin to a happy breath. “And Elena’s ship too. She must be, what, sixteen now?”

“I believe she is,” Stikka replied, assessing the slightly scaly Celican Vixen’s file. Bright as a button and born in a containment camp with several others, she’d lived with her grandparents since the escape but it seemed she was wanting to get into security and had been fast tracked due to her abilities. “Shall we tell Doctor Barleycorn?”

“No, no,” Hawle replied. “Have to keep some pleasant surprises, don’t we?”


Jaqui was also looking over her file as she sat in her office. She’d requested some new Officers but she’d not been expecting this one and she was in two minds about it. Due to her Varkonian heritage, Rakell was stronger than most Celicans. Her muscles were more dense and her fitness was top class. Her slightly reptilian brain processes facts and figures more efficiently and she was on the way to being one of the best in her class. But there was the other shoe. She’d known the girl as a child. She’d gotten close to her, as many had. She had to consider it would be difficult if anything happened to the girl on Jaqui’s watch. Especially with how tight ‘Auntie’ Night Barleycorn was with her. Jaqui’s Mican friend spent her last few Sanctamas breaks with Rakell and her grandparents and now she was going to be coming back. She’d not even known Rakell was going to security classes. Being born outside the Unified Security Council borders she’d needed an Officers’ statement to get in so who..? She looked at the name on the application.


Doctor Bazil Fuze, Raitchian Prodigy in his early twenties, had finished putting his stuff back in his room before the door booped. He bid the person enter and was almost pushed back into his seat by Pangal as she barged in. “What the..,” he started as the door closed.

“YOU sent a letter of recommendation to the college to get Rakell in on a security course,” she accused. “How could you be so stupid?”

“Easily apparently,” he replied sternly. “Especially when she advised me that, if I didn’t, she’d be applying to the local militia!” He straightened himself up in his seat. “She really wanted to help people, Chief. And I saw the use of getting her trained to do that to the best of her ability.”

“Did it NEVER occur to you that she shouldn’t be in security? That she’s had such torment in her life that she shouldn’t have to encounter it again?”

Bazil thought on that. “I was five,” he said directly, after waiting a moment. “Five when separatists on the colony I grew up on set off an explosive device that toppled half a block. Rescue teams didn’t want to come in due to the possibility of secondary devices so all that were left to help were a half dozen walking wounded, one Doctor and me. I don’t know how I came out without a scratch, Jaqui. I do know that I was the only unwounded help the Doctor could rely on. I helped him that day. I helped him scour the rubble for the victims that still drew breath. I held wounds where I could, tears in my eyes and dust so clogged up my nose that I was noseblind. I could barely hear. I still had my brain, working even then. By the end of those four hours I knew how to do a battlefield tourniquet. I knew how to check for life. I knew how to pump life back in with all my tiny strength. I knew what it was to fight and lose people. Twenty seven in that. But I knew then what I wanted to be. Sixteen people survived that day that wouldn’t have because of one Doctor who never gave up. I don’t even know his nam and, in that name, I’ve helped save dozens – hundreds, even – from a fate.” He sat up. “If I see someone wanting to follow their hero,” he added, “I’m going to help them do it. She asked me because she knew you’d say no, Chief. Same for Night. She told me earlier she’s been assigned here by sector command. Good,” he finished,standing up. “She’ll be trained by the best here. You. Ifyou don’t hide her away, she has the makings of a great chief one day. Don’t screw it up,” he added, before heading to the door. “Leave when you like, Chief. I trust you.”


He stepped out, leaving a Chief who wasn’t quite sure what had just hit her.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Is it weird for me to think that Hawle is now just keeping these secrets and not being transparent on purpose so whoever he ticks off can hit him in the face with a dessert? If so I think I like it.

Also it isn't just pies that I would have used on him. I'm still waiting for him to face plant in the mud in full view of people.

[Welsh Halfwit]

4


Hawle sat in his quarters and put down the vidpic of Elena on his bedside table and changed his underwear for the morning. He’d showered and rolled up his ears to protect them for half an hour and settled back into his sofa to engage Stovereaver2854 in digital sports warfare over the galnet servers. Officially he didn’t know anything about his opponent beyond their skill at the Tartellion games series and, unofficially, he wished he didn’t know it was a ten year old Shrewvian girl on Caldera. It made beating her harder. It made being legitimately beaten by her several times even worse. But it was all in fun. Groal’s granddkits-in-law had set it all up a few months back. It passed time whilst he sat in his flannel pyjamas. He’d learned, rather quickly, that you couldn’t sleep in the fur if you were in command as you could be called to the bridge at any time. Or answer commcalls or… dang, she’d scored another point in the digital fencing. He should concentrate and used a hand to eat a sandwich.


Sarina Raven was in command on the bridge right now, the mighty Burman looking out of the ‘windscreen’ at space beyond, seemingly as though she could pick out trouble ahead as the evening shift proceeded apace. The Raitchian called Match had replaced Goole at sciences and Raven had quietly breathed a sigh of relief when he’d turned up. Despite her own Raitchian heritage, hinted at by the black bar of fur across her eyes as opposed to the dark blue everywhere else – Raven didn’t trust most Raitchians. But Match was a bit different. He seemed to have no love for cheating or accumulating wealth. He had no real drive or cunning and she liked that about him, along with the fact that he was a better scientist than Goole. Plus he was a main member of the bridge crew “Looking for any abnormalities in the surrounding area, Commander,” he advised.

“What defines the abnormal, Match,” Sarina asked, genuinely curious.

“Energy traces from unscheduled craft, metal deposits where there shouldn’t be. Things like that. With all the scanning ever done in this sector there’s still about thirty percent that’s never been detailed”

“Right, right,” Raven commented, waving him down, “do the nerd thing.”

“As you command.”

Raven watched her arm console and ran the manifests of the ships transponders that she could see in nearby space. Her arm console was slower but not actually by much. She opened it up to steal a mint and found a selection of the white, marble like, balls and a note in standard telling her he’d counted them and knew there were seventy six in there. She knew the gag and the challenge so began counting them. “Anything going on out there,” she asked Zahn, the feline standing in for Dawton on the shift.

“Nothing of any note, Commander,” the female stated, her voice honey soft and velveteen in tone. “I’ll advise when…”

“When what,” Raven demanded, hating when people cut off during a sentence.

“...when I… have something,” Zahn replied, twiddling controls to focus in. “A single ping,” she advised, “repeating intermittently.”

“I have it,” Match advised. “It’s coded. The code is IOC. The records seem to indicate it’s a tracker the Dayrin put in play a few months ago.” He pulled up the file and sent it to Raven.


It had gone midnight, shipboard, so Raven’s call had woken Aldair from a dream of himself, Elena and Pekan children with long ears and enhanced bounceability. He groaned and sat up, slipping his feet into large, fluffy, slippers and told Raven he’d be there in two minutes. He started out but recalled his dressing gown with the epaulettes on so shucked that about his shoulders and picked up a coffee from the replication system. Ordinarily food and drink weren’t permitted on the bridge (with a minty exception) but this was one am so it was an emergency. He slouched his way into the lift and hit the button for the bridge level.


He stepped out, stepped back in again and pressed the correct floor, rather than the one he was on.


“Tell me about it,” he commanded Match as he got to the bridge. Match advised him of things on Dawnicca a few months back, where an experimental USC ship that acted as mobile command for an IOC investigations team had investigated a missing professor and found a hidden, top of the line, shuttle that the strike crew were supposed to have used. No-one had used it so the thing had been left there with a tracker fitted so it could be traced on the occasion someone came back for it. “And now we’ve found it,” Hawle replied.

“Yes, sir,” Match informed. “It’s not far off our route, approaching Seetin.”

“And you’re certain it’s the same one,” Hawle asked, taking a drink to clear some cobwebs. “I know our tracers are variable but some are going to sound like others. Has anyone called the Dayrin to…” he shrugged. “Check, perhaps?”

“They’re… not exactly in that area, sir,” Match replied, “but we did confirm the frequencies with Investigator Gerry and Amy…”

“Who’s Amy,” Hawle asked, wondering why his left ear wouldn’t stand up straight.

“Android they got from the mission, freeing her from the bad guys. Has loose accreditation as an agent now.”

“They have an android,” Hawle said wistfully. “I wanna android!”

“You’ll have to make do with Stikka,” Raven put in.

“Nah, he’d lose all my to do lists. Deliberately. I’m going to go get dressed. Raven, take us within long range sensor range of that bing so we can see what’s out there. No sense getting a pirate mothership in the face if we can avoid it. Dawt… uh, you’re not Dawton. Zahn, see if you can get a hold of the Dayrin and bring them up to speed on what we have.” She complied and Hawle turned to Raven. “With any luck they’ll tell us to leave it alone and come see for themselves so we can just… I’m saying this out loud, aren’t I?”

Raven nodded. “You are, Captain.”

Hawle looked down at himself in his pyjamas and fluffy slippers. “Not dreaming. Dang it.” He slugged the rest of the coffee and slouched off back to his room to get dressed. “You have the bridge, Commander,” he called as he went.

“Thanks,” she said.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Aldair should be lucky that he hasn't been giving his instructions in his underwear which would be FAR more embarrassing. I can tell you right now Elena likes it when he walks around in his underwear only.

[Welsh Halfwit]

5


Hawle, now dressed, looked through the reports Agent Sweetstalk had just sent through and thought that, if someone wrote them the right way, they could pass for a low rent spy novel, what with there being kidnappings, betrayals, about faces, explosions, sexy robots (according to Agent Sellaveen) secret missions and pirates. It was a thorough thing which had necessitated the consumption of copious amounts of coffee, which was why he’d finished reading it in his office en suite. He put the padd under his arm so he could use his hands to pull up his trousers and almost dropped it into the bowl. “Never read on the toilet,” he reminded himself grumpily before heading back through his office to the bridge. “It seems,” he announced to the other morning officers, who’d arrived two hours early for their shift and Raven, who’d refused to leave, “that, on their inaugural mission, Investigator Gerry and Commander Dane of the Dayrin chanced upon an extremely advanced shuttle that was supposed to be involved in the ‘abduction’ – and I put that in parentheses for reasons I can’t be bothered to go into – of an academic from Dawnicca. A top engine specialist slumming it out here because the Council didn’t want to redevelop their entire fleet to support his theories of design… Where was I? Oh, yeah. Gerry’s team intercepted the strike team and dealt with them rather forcefully so they were in no shape to answer questions or pilot shuttles. Commander Dane’s security Equinna put a stealth bug deep in the system code of the shuttle so, if anyone came back for it, we could find it. That was three months ago.”

“No-one’s checked in three months,” Dawton asked, feeling fuzzy in the brain.

“No, The locals occasionally checked. The last check was twelve days ago, their time. Where was the ping coming from?”

“Seetin.” Match cut in. “Monta have a base near there. Raicarra have one on Leptos too.”

“Leptos two is uninhabitable?”

“I mean Leptos as well,” the Raitchain huffed.

“As well as where,” Hawe asked, letting Match know he was joking.

“Amusing, sir. You got out of bed very early to catch me out.”

“Remind me to make Goole your senior officer some time,” Hawle remarked, standing in front of Raven, who was pretending not to notice him and get out of his seat for several seconds.


Maze Hardy kissed the deck chief for his work on her fighter and the old feline purred slightly and chuckled. “All I did was make that droning sound go away.”

“Really,” Maze replied, “so you didn’t locate a secret device implanted by Monta that would have killed all the systems in the ship if they’d sent a simple command?”

The taban shrugged his thin shoulders. “I didn’t start out by looking for it,” he said, downplaying his own skill as he often did. “Once I found it it made sense to remove it,” he added, handing Maze a box with wires and cables attached. “Of course,” he continued, “it wasn’t there the last time I gave this an inspection. Monta probably installed it a few weeks back when they ran their quarterly checks.”

Maze handed it back. “Hook it up to your old runabout fighter. It should fit. And they’ll think it’s still in mine. Be a bit of a surprise for them?”

“And me, if I’m out in it.” He glanced over at the ancient Starlancer IV they’d found when rescuing the Bellaphron. It was almost as antiquated as him but they’d been largely outnumbered and he’d flown them way back when so they’d gotten it refuelled and he’d joined the squadron for one final mission and the Commander had gotten the fighter allotted to him. It wasn’t a patch on the models Maze flew but the electrics hadn’t changed that much, he reasoned. “I’ll sort something out, Maze. And I need to tell Commander Raven too.”

“Can I reward you with a kiss,” Maze asked.

The chief looked around and saw no-one watching. “You might as well,” he told her so she embraced him as she sometimes did in their time off and applied her mouth to his with some pressure that he responded to for several seconds. “Probably better stop,” he said gently, ending the embrace. “My place tonight,” he asked before the door opened and an ensign came in.

“Barring disasters and ships falling apart…”

“My ships don’t fall apart without help from the pilots,” the chief protested before Maze strode out. The ensign wondered who they were trying to kid.


Jaqui Pangal was doing two things right now. She was organising her troops in case this beep thing proved to be trouble and she was working her way through what Bazil had said to her. She supposed that, if anyone was going to have Rakkel and complete her training it was best it was her, wasn’t it? She could assign her to a partnership with, say, Darvell and the even minded Canine could use his experience to help her and she might need to assign security to the medical bay as Night was probably going to kill Bazil when she found out but she’d think about that later. Katara would just need to get used to having a security team just out of the engineering department and Jaqui advised Timmin the Mican to tell the engineer that when she demanded, as Pangal knew she would, that security should *^&$ off out of her way, she should tell her that.”

“Right” the Mican said, not looking entirely sure of her life expectancy with the Silver Vixen.

“OK. Tell Januvitski to tell her.”


“Are we there yet,” Hawle asked Sarah rhetorically. He knew full well that they were almost in range of the extreme sensors that should, at least, tell them things about the larger artifacts in the area. Asteroids, satellites, ships and other things.

“Two minutes, sir,” she replied, equally rhetorically.

“Switching to the long range scanners now, sir,” Match said. Hawle nudged Raven, who’d fallen asleep, as the image of a dead ship appeared on the screen. It wasn’t the shuttle but a larger vessel that looked as though it had been in a fair fight that had ended unfairly. “A… Whitworth Passent light cruiser,” Hawle asked. “Hands up who was expecting a Human ship,” he finished. He looked around. No one had their hand up. “Thought so,” he said. “Match, keep scanning that bait for traps, would you?”

“The thought had occurred to me, sir,”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Oh Aldair do me a favor please and never change at all. He knows that his team plans to do what they have to so they don't get ambushed but he tells them to do their tasks anyway because I am pretty sure he likes to rib everybody.

[Welsh Halfwit]

6


Greyson Stikka checked over his security suit as the others got ready and brought his helmet down. The light indicators for Darvell and Gigan from security lit up before Bazil Fuze and Match, representing Medical and Sciences respectively as they’d been slightly slower with their helmets. Last came Januvitski from Engineering, selected because she was not only Human but a former technician on the Passant line for Whitworth. He’d downloaded the schematics for the ship but she had a more intimate knowledge and the Cyber Racon had an appreciation for learned knowledge over book learning.


Scans on approach had shown the fact that the ship had been in battle, shielding overwhelmed by incoming energy weapons but, judging by the radiation scarring of local space that was particular to human supercharged energy fire, the Human ship had gotten in several hits of it’s own. Harvey was already delving into the details of the ship and if it was out here legally or if it was listed as stolen or ‘vanished’ as some ships tended to do from the notes, if not in physicality. Swiped from a Militia was a possibility as the Passant was a reliable thing but much cheaper than Monta or Fawren or Raicarra and you got what you paid for and cared more if you paid more… “We have no life-signs,” Stikka told the team, “but you know how unreliable these scans can be with Human ships at long range. The metals in the hull deflect the scans slightly. Doctor Fuze will get one hundred percent accuracy from inside. We CAN tell that life support is down and the hull is punctured in several places, hence the suits.

<“And the tracking beacon is on a high tech shuttle inside that ship?”>

“The beacon is, Doctor Fuze,” Stikka responded. “The shuttle is yet to be confirmed.”

<“There’s a highly advanced shuttle on a cheap Human ship – no offence, Jan – that’s been destroyed and they left it there?”> Stikka noted it was the Mican officer Gigan who’d asked.

“There’s the possibility it’s a trap, yes,” Stikka advised. “That’s why you’re coming. We’re taking the shuttle as, without the lock on from the Human teleporter we need to shuttle over. Maze will disengage after offloading us and Jan will see if she can get the teleport back online. Then, if needed, we can beam out from there.”>


Maze waited in the command cockpit until Stikka made his way in and spoke to her through the comm system that he could link to, meaning the shuttle comm wouldn’t get overloaded by overlapping signals. “I’d rather be in a fighter,” she told the Racon. “Your merry band ready to go, Commander?”

“Hmm,” Stikka replied. through the speaker “Sorry. Was listening to a music video. Yes, they’re ready to head out. As am I. Let’s go exploring.”


The shuttle settled in to the side of the Human ship and locked on to the exterior hatch to allow the team access. The back area screened itself off to keep in the atmosphere as Maze wasn’t wearing a sealed suit and Stikka asked her to send some power through to the doorlocks to open the interior.


The group stepped through to a quiet interior, lit by emergency lighting alone as the gravity booys kept them to the floor. Fuze’s suit indicated it was minus thirty degrees in here and he relayed that to Stikka as he began to scan for life. Januvitski and Darvell moved towards the engineering section to see what could be salvaged. Stikka resolved to head to the bridge and called up a 3d map and directions through the least sealed doors. He stopped as a body hung in mid air and Stikka noted the frost forming across the face. This couldn’t have been done too long ago in his mind. A day at the very most. It was a Human male of moderate age and Stikka looked into the broken eyes. He didn’t close them. The touch would have sent the corpse off in a random direction. <“I’m picking up a life sign somewhere in the centre of the ship,”> Fuze advised. <“There must be an air pocket.”>

<“Or a creature that doesn’t need air,”> Goole replied.

“Probably won’t be that,”Stikka asserted, opening a ceiling hatch manually after running sensors for trapped atmosphere. He didn’t want to burst anyone’s bubble of air. They disengaged the boot systems and floated up into the passageway to the next deck, Goole hanging upside down to reseal the hatch as they went for roughly the same reason. Stikka led the way through to the next exit and ran the same scans for life outside. “Any idea where in the ship those signs are coming from,” Stikka asked.

<“Too faint for the suit scanners,”> the Raitchian advised. <“We’d need the ship’s scanners to locate it. If we can patch in to the communications – If we can get that working – we could ask them?”>

<“Not advisable until we know more, sir,”> Gigan said from elsewhere in the ship. <“The lifesign could be hostile and they’d be able to track you. I would advise getting to the bridge. We can get the power up when you’re there.”>

“No boobytraps?”

<“We’ll need the power on to find out so be prepared,”> Januvitski told them. <“We’ll power things up slowly for you.”>

“We’ll be ready, Januvitski.” He changed the channel. “Maze, back the shuttle off some distance in case this ship explodes,” he commented, knowing his team wouldn’t have heard him. Hardy disengaged and they certainly felt the thump as she ceased skin to skin contact.


Seven dead on the bridge, Stikka counted, noting the gash in the ceiling of the foolishly placed room. They’d been the ones belted into their seats so the Racon knew there would have been more. Two Humans, three Lappineans and a pair of Wolven, one of whom sat in the Captain’s seat. He was practically stuck there, capillaries burst and blood frozen around his face. Goole headed to the science station and called down to Jan that he was in position and they needed shields for the bridge as the place had been decompressed.

<“That comes later, Goole,”> Jan replied. <“Beginning the power build up now. Internal scanners should come online in a moment.”>

Fuze noted that and let Stikka log him into the system as he had no clue as to the codes. <“OK. Running the scan…”> He looked up. <“It’s a sealed environment in sickbay? Can you pull up internal cameras?”>

A moment later, he was looking at a child in a quarantine zone.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Now they have to figure out if the child was put in the quarantine zone prior to everything happening or if he ended up there somehow so that should be interesting. At least it is a mystery for them to solve before they do anything else.

[Welsh Halfwit]

7


<“I’ll see if I can get power rerouted to the medical bay so we can get him out of there,”> Januvitski said from engineering.

<“Don’t do that,”> Darvell put in, making the other members of the crew look at him as it was the first thing the Canine had said on the mission. <“That’s a quarantine zone.”>

Bazil sighed and breathed out “He’s right,” he stated. “The kid’s safe in there but, if we open that double lock, we could kill him or infect the atmosphere with whatever he might have. There could be a reason no-one else hid in there with him. Can you get the air flowing in there, Jan?”

<“I can try.”>

Goole commented that he might be able to get the computers back up in a few minutes now there’s power. Stikka decided to contact the Loper, wherever it was.


Hawle stopped pacing on the bridge as Stikka reported in. He listened to the descriptions of the dead crew they’d found and the situation with regards the child in the quarantine zone. “Do you want Katara sent over to aid Januvitski,” he asked, thinking he needed to offer something. He waited until Stikka replied, having asked Jan on the other channel.

<“Januvitski says she can handle it,”> Stikka replied and Aldair considered the human hadprobably used far less subtle language in her response. “We’ll keep an eye out for interlopers so do what you can. Oh, and Greyson?”

<“Yes, sir?”>

“Find that shuttle, will you?”


Stikka grumbled that he had planned to do just that as he closed off the line and decided to head down to the shuttle bay, where it was likely parked. He dictated Darvel to take control up here whilst he went for a look. Darvell indicated it was better that he went as Stikka was the commander. “I have command armour on, Darvell. It can probably take anything this place has to offer.” He stepped back out into the passages, clumping silently down the way, back to the conduits to downstairs. He closed the bulkhead behind him and continued on in silence. He tried not to call out as he opened a side door that the schematics said led to an inner passage. The release of air almost pulled him in faster than he’d planned, lifting the corpses trapped against the wall and trying to pull them into the vacuum caused by the rip in the hull. Stikka’s boots kept him in place, despite the suck impulse and Januvitski demanded to know what was going on. He chose to wait until he was on the other side of the bulkhead and started closing it before he replied.

<“Can you not do that,”> she demanded, <“structural integrity’s not clever, sir. Use the interior passages where you can.”>

“So noted,” he grumbled, deciding not to remind her that a shuttle bay, by it’s very nature, had to be net to the hull. He pushed a trapped figure from his path and it drifted lazily towards the rupture behind him. He didn’t notice as he walked towards the nearest bulkhead, listening to the others talk int the otherwise terrifying silence.


“Can you hear me,” Bazil said over the comm after Goole patched him in and Januvitski had the internal system back on line. The figure on the screen jerked it’s head up as the breeze started to flow again. The bridge occupiers watched as the figure replied silently, opening and closing his mouth in a way Fuze struggled to read, despite the boy being Raitchian and him understanding the language. “I think the microphone system is off at your end,” he told the boy. “I’m Raitchian too, so I can read what you’re saying but not very well. I’m Doctor Bazil Fuze of the U.S.C. Loper. Can you tell me your name?” The boy mouthed. “Ardossan?” A shake of the head. “Andrette?” Another shake. The boy spoke with almost exaggerated slowness, making his mouth movements clearer and showing his perfect teeth. “Andros?” A grin and a nod. “Excellent. I’m not going to ask why you’re in there, Andros,” he stated, “I don’t think we have the time. I’m here with a team. We’ve got the air back into your room so you’re safe for now. We’ll try to get to you soon. Why were you in there? Do you know?” A nod from the boy and he tried to pronounce an extremely complex word. “OK.” Bazil cut the line for a moment. “If he’s talking correctly, it’s Idiramoda syndrome. Contagious amongst Raitchians and only specialised centres can treat it. Closest is on Sobley.”

<“He looks OK,”> Goole commented.

“He would. If he’s the carrier. It’s those around him that get sores and pustules and their brains overheating…”

<“I get it,”> Stikka commented from elsewhere. <“Don’t let the plague carrier out. Now, are these pirates or was he booked in? Wolven traders like to go armed so this could be a merchantman.”>


Harvey Winstone twitched his tail and wondered if he could do anything from where he was. If Jan could get the computers back online he could get into their logs and download them. If communications were working, of course. He should have gone over with them but the entire IT division of the Loper was him and Gilly and they were far too important to risk on unstable ships that could break apart at the seams with a misplaced kick until the structural integrity field came back online. Plus, the Squirrel thought, they didn’t have a suit that could comfortably hold his magnificent tail. So he waited, running down information on the ship from external sources. It had been sold, seven years back, to a Wolven Militia with the idea of it being an armed cargo vessel on the route between two Wolven colonies, Sempa and Kitrick. Clear on the other side of the sector. So what was it doing here? He sent the information up to Commander Raven so she could talk to the Wolven militia commander to find out why the ship had vanished from records. He found the Wolven always reacted better to her than to him and he wondered if it was the abject fear in his face as he just looked at the hard eyed predators that counted against him. “Come in, Gilly, door’s always open for you,” he said, feeling her mind before she pressed the button. Usually he needed touch to focus his telepathy but he’d gotten used to the Raitchian’s mind and could identify her from around two bulkheads distance now. She entered the room and put her arms around his neck, flooding his mind with warm, pleasurable, thoughts. He decided to take a break for now. They’d contact him if there was anything to do over there. And, now, he had someone to do over here. So he locked the door and took Gilly to the bed alcove.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Winstone should be glad that it is on Aldair's ship that he has decided to do this then with Gilly. Aldair DEFINITELY knows what they are getting up to and at worst will only tease them about it in that case.

[Welsh Halfwit]

8


Cargo bay one had been emptied, Stikka thought. There were signs of teleport traces all around the area, staining the atmosphere with electrons and, judging from what he could see through the door window, the doors to space were opened from outside, with some force as they were holed. They’d need to find out what was in here as it appeared it was this the raiders had come in for, in force enough to overwhelm a well armed ship. He reckoned there would have had to be at least three of them for there not to be debris from any other ship. He lowered himself down from tiptoes and continued on to the bay he was after., across the way. “It looks like whatever they were after was in bay one,” he advised the others. “It’s been hit pretty bad. How’s the shuttle bay looking?”

<“In one piece, surprisingly,”> Januvitski replied. <“The hull’s only taken moderate damage so the structural integrity’s fine with forcefield help. Don’t go punching the hull, though.”>

“So noted,” Stikka replied. “Any chance of getting life support going soon?”

<“I only have two hands, Commander. It’s next on my list after forcefields. No sense starting it up if it gets sucked out immediately.”>

<“I’ve never worked out how force fields hold an atmosphere in,”> Fuze commented.

<“It’s all to do with charged particle fields and not opening bulkheads,”> Jan told him. <“Tell you later, Baz. The shuttle bay’s safe to enter, Commander.”>


It was still cold in here, judging from the indicator in the suit. A trapped amount of air had shuddered into the passageway when he’d opened the door and he’d heard the frame creak in his imagination but it hadn’t done anything like fire a shuttle at him so that was a bonus. The large shuttle took up much of the room in here and it seemed intact. He wondered why they’d not used it to escape but then he recalled the bodies in the hall. Three of them. And guessed they’d been trying to get here but the power had failed, sealing the door, then the atmosphere had been expelled, taking their lives with it. “The shuttle is intact,” he told the team, then the Loper.

<“Good to know,”> Hawle replied. <“Can you get to the child yet?”>

Stikka half smiled. He’d figured his boss would be more interested in the youth than the ship now. He relayed the question and sent back the answer from Fuze. “We’re not sure we should,” he advised. “Apparently the boy was being transferred to Sobley to be treated for something called…” He paused and asked Fuze how to pronounce it, storing the words in his memory so he could pronounce them. “Idiramoda syndrome.”

A new voice spoke to him from the Loper’s bridge. Doctor Barleycorn spoke. <“I’ll have our quarantine zone set up. Ask Jan if she can get the teleport system back up and the protocols...”>

“...Should allow direct locks for teleport from medical bays. To medical bays. Good idea, Doctor. Set your quarantine area up.”


“Do this, Januvitski, do that. Not like I’m stuck here, doing nothing, is it,” she asked Gigan in the engineering bay, where they had an atmosphere now so they were both visor off to refill the air supply and only putting the visor on when she needed to stick her head somewhere unsafe or speak with the others.

“Terrible to be needed, eh,” the Mican said, lounging on a support beam. She smirked slightly. “These attackers were very accurate,” she mooted.

Jan stopped for a second and leaned on the console as it ran tests on the teleport system as Stikka had demanded. “Almost too accurate,” she agreed. “They hole the exact bay they need. They destroy the bridge… and, yes, I agree it’s a dumb place to have a bridge. Blame vid shows from the old days. They also hit precise points on the superstructure. They had someone inside.”

“Sabotage?”

“Possibly someone placing location devices. If not, there could be hidden devices.”

Gigan got her visor back on and updated the others on what they suspected. Jan heard her over the comm. Noting that the suit indicator was saying the air reserve tank was back to ninety percent full (from eighty percent), Jan put her visor down and put her head into the gubbins to check on several wires and circuits. She was glad she did as the wiring fired, showering sparks across the faceplate as the ship shuddered. <“What just happened,”> Stikka demanded.

“Checking now, sir,” Jan replied, pulling herself upright. “Looks like a crossed wire,” she advised. “Trying to reroute power manually to the teleport system and it looks like they’d rewiredat some point. Disconnecting one of the systems appears to have… uh, oh.”

<“Uh-oh’s not good.”>

“The engine fired for half a second.” Januvitski advised. “The ship’s moving. It’s going to strain the integrity field.”

<“That’s an uh-oh,”> Stikka agreed.


“Never thought I’d need this set up so soon,” Night Barleycorn complained as she had her nurses set up the quarantine zone. The double door system was currently negated by both the doors being open as they worked to make the room as comfortable as they could for a child. They had no clue of the age so Raitchian red sheets and blue drapes were being set up along with a replication machine and a vidsystem with lockouts so he couldn’t get any of the adult channels and a small table and a medication station where she could enter what she needed and it would auto dispense from the stores. It was a lot more full than it tended to be if there was an adult in there. A little more homely. She ran checks on the teleport system that stood proud in the far orner of the room and her own environmental suit. She was only part Raitchian and cursed her ‘father’ for that and she’d really been working to get over her dislike of the race and this wasn’t helping. She didn’t know if she could catch this syndrome and, from what she knew of it, she wasn’t anxious to find out. She wondered if Bazil was worried too. She almost liked him quite a lot. “You can’t be here,” she told Sarina Raven as the Burman loomed behind her, shading her from the light outside. “You have Raitchian heritage and you’re not a doctor.”

“You gonna be OK with this, Night,” the feline asked.

“Yeah, thanks. Not the first time we’ve had someone in here.” She shrugged. “First time it’s a kid, though. Wouldn’t want to be him.”

“Captain says Jan’s got the teleport system working there. You can grab him when you want.”

“Right,” she said simply. “Get Bazil to tell him what we’re going to do. “

Raven nodded and headed up to advise Stikka.


Match checked his scanners. “Do we lock a beam on,” he asked.

“No,” Hawle replied. “It could do more damage to the ship at this point.”

Dawton spoke. “There’s another ship coming in...”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Another ship coming into the situation could cause a lot of complications so they better tread carefully. Things are already a lot mystifying right now without the other ship.

[Welsh Halfwit]

9


Stikka understood the situation had accelerated. They had about haf an hour before the ship got here and ten minutes before they could make a proper identification. It wasn’t broadcasting its ident on any council frequencies so it couldn’t be up to much that was legit. He’d told the others to get back here as Jan hadn’t managed to get the teleport systems back online yet (they’d failed a moment after they’d started up) and the bridge team needed to get as much of the database as they could for Harvey to analyse. Bazil was refusing to leave until he really had to. The boy… Stikka screwed his eyes tight shut. If Januvitski couldn’t get the teleporter up, they couldn’t send him so… “Right,” he declared. “Go get him. We’re all wearing containment suits so we’re all safe. I’ll send the message to the Loper to secure a path for you.”


Bazil and Darvell headed from the bridge, the security Officer sticking with the Doctor as they headed, as fast as possible, to the medical bay, sticking to areas that were pressurised as the security officer counted down the minutes and Fuze remonstrated with him that he had an in suit timer, same as everyone else. They stopped at the sealed door to the medical bay aand Fuze used his Medical Officer override to unlock it. The atmosphere in the bay was as thin as everywhere else in the ship but was, likewise, breathable which was no help to the corpses lain out on the floor, who’d obviously gone through their trapped supply in a few hours. He didn’t know the medical officer or any of his staff which, frankly, was something of a relief. The doors had sealed automatically and the power loss had locked the doors with no manual system as was common on Council ships and they’d had no chance other than hope. The Quarantine area was similarly sealed and Bazil hoped his code would get him in. Unlike the medical bay door, it didn’t. “Darn,” he cursed, “the Doctor isolated it. Made a personal code.” He could see the boy against the other side of the security glass, standing against it, hammering. He wanted to use the suit speaker to tell Andros they were going to get him out but there was no way he would hear through the glass.

Darvell tapped his arm and got Bazil to stand back. He stepped forward, brought his gun to bear and switched to a cutting beam that fought to cleave through the glass in as best he could.


Two minutes and eighty-nine percent of the charge down, the hole was big enough for the boy to get through and he hesitated to step through the hole with the steaming edges until Bazil engaged the suit speaker. “Coming, Andros,” he asked, “it’s Doctor Fuze. We were talking on the comm?”

“But.. but.. my syndrome?”

“We’re all suited and the Loper’s been warned. Come on.”

Darvell stepped in and put the boy over his shoulder. He hit his speaker as Andros protested. “Don’t have time to discuss things, kid,” he remarked as the group headed towards the exit.

“Any clue who our midnight visitor is,” Hawle asked Dawton as he hovered over the Human’s shoulder.

“Not a scooby,” the human replied, making the Lappinean frown. He smiled slightly as he felt the Commander’s confusion on the back of his neck. “Sorry, sir. Slang. Scooby-doo. Clue.”

“Oh, because it rhymes, not because it’s sense,” Hawle replied. “I’ve seen that vidtoon. Surely, if it was sense, it’d be a reference to ‘someone or something hidden behind a bad mask’.”

“How does that make any sense?”

“Because I’m the Captain. What can you tell me of it, Scraggy?”

Dawton decided not to correct him on that and examined the readings he’d gotten from querying other ships it might have passed and bringing up a trace map. “It’s coming from somewhere out past Kirrinim.”

“Rapta clan territory,” Hawle mooted. “The clan which seems to be at the centre of this little clan dispute.”

Match spoke up, stating that he had some information on what the ship had been carrying. Hawle hustled over to the scientists station and looked over his shoulder. “Is that traces of our hull plating,” he stated, deflating Match’s ego slightly as he gave part of the explanation.

“Not quite, sir,” the Raitchian explained, doing what he could to salvage the ego. “We’ve not been shot. There’s evidence that the ship was carrying some of the new, treated, plating that enables us to resist scans. Looks like there’s still some in the main hold.”

“Worth it’s weight in gold to the clans, having hard to detect ships,” Hawle mooted. “Cripple a ship, grab all you need and come back for the rest later? Not sure I buy that. But we’re not going to ask questions unless we have to. Tilloch!”

“Aye, suh,” the Scottish Mican weapons officer stated.

“Get ready to teleport a time bomb over there. Big enough to detonate that ship after we’ve legged it. I don’t intend to leave a grave for people to raid.”

“Aye, suh!” Tilloch said happily, heading down to the torpedo bay to play, talking to himself at speed.

Hawle looked after him and wondered, once again, if even he understood what he was saying. “Hawle to Hardy, get your tail back here as soon as you’ve blown the doors for Stikka.”

<“Will do. Wait, as soon as I’ve what?”>

Hawle rolled his eyes. Of course Stikka must have forgotten to tell her as it couldn’t possibly be his fault. He’d been doing a lot of things at once. He told her what she needed to do and heard her curse before saying she’d get it done.


Stikka blinked at the profanity from the flight leader and was thankful the others couldn’t hear as they assembled in the shuttle bay and got aboard the assault shuttle, sealing the back after Darvell sat the boy down and strapped him in. Stikka accessed the schematics and making sure he knew hiw to fly this thing. “Stikka to Hardy, please blow the doors?”

<On it,”> the Raitchian replied, opening fire as Stikka put the shields up, inside the main vessel.


The bay doors blasted in, then out, depressurising the bay and blowing everything out into the void, including the shuttle, which struck the edge of the doors with the protective shields, screeching and scoring its way out without damaging the hull of the shuttle and he didn’t engage the engines until after they were, clearly, outside. Stikka oriented the ship and noted Hardy’s ship already headed back to the Loper.

Andros looked out of the viewscreen. “Is that your ship?”

“Who’s else would it be,” Stikka replied. “Get sat back down, kid.”


They headed for home.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I am thinking based on everybody's reactions to the stream of curses that left Hardy's mouth that nobody has heard her swear out loud before? That is what I get or that she just went on a profanity-laden rant about everything that happened due to the situation they found themselves in.

[Welsh Halfwit]

Well, blowing the doors off - and JUST the doors off - requires precision and preparation. And Stikka (because it couldn't have been Hawle) left it last minute to tell her.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I take it she doesn't like to get information about stuff that might be dangerous at the very last moment then unlike Aldair who is cool under pressure. As well as cool in the face of baked goods. XD

[Welsh Halfwit]

10


Sarah asked the simple question as to why they were having to clear everyone off the passageways and couldn’t just beam the kid from the shuttle to sickbay. Match chose to answer and Hawle, who had been planning to show off his knowledge, decided to let him. “He doesn’t have a teleport tag, Sarah,” he explained. “The teleport locks on to the tag in the comm system for targetting and pulls the rest along. We can have it set for Raitchian or target individually but, in this case, by the time we did that, the shuttle would be here anyway. So this is just as simple.”

“Simple,” Sarah repeated, noting the general alert lighting and the ‘stay in your rooms’ message Dawton had sent out.

“Could someone put the shuttle on the screen so we can check if our provisional pilot is going to crash into us,” Hawle asked and Raven put it up. “Is the shuttle bay big enough,” Hawle wondered aloud.

“We can fit one of them along with our standard two,” Match advised.

“Oh, good. I didn’t want to have to explain damaged doors to Katara or attaching an ‘on tow’ placard to it to Postain.”

“You don’t like explaining anything to Marius,” Sarah commented, keeping an eye on the incoming ship.

Hawle quirked an eyeridge as he sat down, strapping himself in as he rested one foot on his other leg’s knee. “Oh, so it’s ‘Marius’, now, is it? Spend eight months as his assistant and you’re on first name terms?” He whistled with humour.

“Sorry, must have picked it up from Chichester.”

“Oh, so it’s NOT sector Commanders you’re on first name basis with but former colony presidents?” Hawle mock gasped.

“Is there any way I can dig myself out of this,” Sarah guffawed.

“Just remember he’s Sector Chief Postain here. Be polite. Or grumpymuzzle if you’re not being polite, but never to his face. Is that ship still coming?”

“Aye,” Sarah replied, used to the Commander’s rapid change of topic tactic. “With our transponder off and the treated hull plating it probably doesn’t know we’re here.”

“That’ll soon change when that ship explodes. And, before you ask, we CAN beam the bomb over as we don’t much care if it lands in a sealed or open area. The schematics mean it probably won’t go into a bulkhead. Someone open the main shuttlebay doors? I think he wants to park.” He started programming a buoy.


After the shuttle landed, Andros looked around with wide eyes at the home of the latest people who’d have him in isolation. It seemed… smaller than the other ship but he could tell more people lived here and, after the Doctor, who he’d seen through the visor was a Raitchian not that much older than him, had opened the door, he stepped out after the door to space closed and looked around. “Nice ship,” he enthused.

“Glad you like it, Andros,” Bazil replied through the suit speaker. “C’mon,” he added, walking to the interior door, “I hear they’ve spruced up your new room. Toys, soft furnishings, a vid with certain channels locked out…”

Andros grinned toothily. “I’ll soon crack that.”

“Well, you can try. C’mon.” He led the boy out into the passages, down past something called the ‘starwheel’, that Bazil told him he was never to go in (which only made him really want to), past the messhall, which Bazil promised to get him something from later on, past engineering, which looked really cool with the lit up engine and stuff and to the medical bay, where Doctor Barleycorn was waiting, suited up like Bazil.

“I’m a little concerned that everyone’s wearing suits,” Andros told her, seeing she was a black fur Mican.”

“Part Raitchian,” she said through the speaker. “Not taking any chances. Let me show you your room,” she added as Bazil broke off to upload the medical files to the isolated computer. It would screen for viruses and malware before, if it thought everything clean, releasing a drive that could be uploaded to the main computer. Three seconds later it popped the drive out and Bazil took it to the main computer as Night showed Andros his room. “We didn’t have long and no-one told us how old you were…”

“Eleven.”

“...so we did the best we could. We’re headed for Sobley anyway so you’ll only be here a day or so.”

He picked up a stuffed toy that was on his comfortable looking bed and looked the Pendrilla in the face. “I used to train these online,” he said of the popular game character.

“One of the nurses had one.”

A shy smile. “Tell ‘em thanks? This’ll do. For a day or so. Now, can you leave so I can see the real you and Bazil through the glass?”

“I suppose,” Night shrugged.


It took them five minutes to get out of the suits and stand by the secure glass. They engaged the communication system. “You look nice,” he told Night. “Can you put the suit back on, Baz,” he asked cheekily, before laughing.


The view changed, up on the bridge, as Sarah put the Loper in a small cluster of slow moving asteroids and they watched the stricken ship on the scanners. After dropping off the silent bouy, Hawle had ordered Katara to find and disable the tracking beacon the Dayrin’s crew had planted on the shuttle and he had to admit he was hoping the incoming ship wasn’t homing on that as it would make it a lot harder to hit them in the face with a powerful explosion if they were nowhere near it. Tilloch had confirmed that he’d gotten the ‘wee beastie’ – which Hawle assumed meant a bomb – onto the Human ship with both a timer and a remote control system.

“Their comm system is down,” Hawle reminded him.

“Aw, crackers,” the Mican replied, tossing the remote onto his console as the Rapta clan ship arrived, some half a million kilometres from the trap. “She’ll be nosin’ close in five minutes, Right when ah want her tae be there…”

Hawle waited, considering psyche evaluations for his bridge crew, as the two ships on the monitor came closer together. He turned the bouy on and it started broadcasting a warning to clear the area. “We’re just out here, on patrol,” he told himself. “We’re just coming to the aid of another ship after it got hit by something unknown exploding… Tilloch?”

“Aye?”

“Shouldn’t it have exploded by now?”

“Nae, suh!” The Mican looked at his wristwatch. “Now, suh,” he added as the Human vessel exploded, close enough to the Rapta vessel to overwhelm its’ shielding and fracture the hull.

“Excellent Let’s go rescue them. Red alert and ready weapons.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

It's funny that Tilloch managed to calculate the exact second the bomb would go off and destroy that other ship. But that also leads me to thinking that he is having WAY too much fun with blowing stuff up so Hawle better be careful.

[Welsh Halfwit]

11


“Bring us in on pattern Omega,” Hawle advised. “Dawton, put me on.”

“I don’t know if they’ll be able to receive but you’re on.” Dawton flicked the main communications switch.

“This is Commander Hawle of the U.S.C. ship ‘Loper’ to unknown vessel. We had no idea you were in the area when we planned to scuttle the ship. We have no idea why the relay wasn’t picked up and we are coming to assist you.” A voice spoke through the storm of static. It stated that assistance was not necessary or wanted. “We need to assess the damage and affect repairs where we can!” He signalled for Raven to quietly get Maze and her pilots to launch stations, which the Burman did with the press of a button.

<“We’ll send you the bill,”> the fractious voice returned. <“Do not try to assist us.”>

“But… but…” Hawle paused, seemingly lost for words until a light indicated his pilots were at ready stations. “If we don’t exchange details, how will our insurances work out who to blame?”

A snerk from Chapston broke the tension as Hawle ordered the launch of fighters. The link cut. “Too much, sir?”

“I was doing fine until you snerked in! They’re trying to get away. Kirkin, tell them that’s not going to happen, would you?”

“Soon as the Sassenach gets us in range, suh,”

“Fifteen seconds to range and they’re launching fighters.”

“At least they’re not going the ‘innocent freighter’ route.” He circled into his chair and engaged the restraints after pushing the ‘launch’ button for the fighters.


Down in the bay, Maze Hardy led the flight from the launchers, dipping back into the void of space some ten minutes after she’d landed the shuttle. It felt a little like whiplash to her, the speed of this return. Some weeks she launched on missions just the once and the rest were just practice flights. She liked this, leading her wing out to engage an enemy. To make a difference. They thrust out from the rear of the Loper and angled around to face the enemy and her own fighter wing. “OK,” she told her group. “We’re better trained than they are. They’re in Monta Bihawks and they’re not up to date models. Their banking inflicts higher g-forces on the pilots than ours do so use it. Split into your trios and watch each other. Stay out of the Loper’s firing pattern. Other than that? Break and attack!”


Night Barleycorn stepped out of the isolation room and bade Bazil not approach as she headed over to the assessment computer with the samples she’d taken from Andros. She put the blood sample into the receptacle and plugged the scanner in as well, before stepping into the sterilisation room and letting the surface cleansing beam do its’ work over her suit before putting the hands into a concentrated beam area. When the power dimmed, she engaged the release mechanism to step out of the suit and she left the room, knowing the suit would be extracted later. “What do you have,” she asked Fuze.

“Their Doctor didn’t seem that interested in filling in notes on Andros here,” the prodigy announced, having gone through the files at a speed Night quite envied. “It looks like he did cursory checks only. Possibly leaving it to the doctors on Sobley to deal with it and concentrating on making sure the boy didn’t infect the rest of the crew.”

“You’re probably right,” Night interpreted as the first of the test results came back. “Everything looks accurate for Idiramoda syndrome but..?” She glanced at her junior. “He’s not coughed once.”

Bazil frowned. “You’re right. That’s usually the only outward sign of a carrier. Well, one of the few anyhow,” he amended, leaning in to see the readings. “The other one being surrounded by suffering of course. You’ve set the computer for deep analysis?”

“Absolutely,” she replied, batting him on the nose to get him to back up a bit. The ship shuddered as the fight began. She hit the intercom. “Did you see the ships that attacked, Andros,” she asked.

He nodded. <“Saw the vid relay.”>

Night laid the external feed into his screen. “Did one look like that?”

He nodded again, clearly afraid.


“You know,” Hawle advised as the opposing ship slashed the frigate with fire, “I really don’t think they want our help?”

Raven pondered replying that maybe they shouldn’t keep offering it to ships they’d just blown up but didn’t bother saying it. She noted a weakness in the other ships shields and sent the information over to Tilloch to target as Chapston took the liberty of diving away from another shot. “Some people just don’t like us,” she replied instead.

“Us,” Hawle replied, before ordering a change to attack pattern Omicron 12 to keep the fight concentrated on her, not the fighters buzzing around like demented flies with energy beam eyes. “Who wouldn’t like us,” he asked as Tilloch blasted a chunk off the enemy ship, spilling its’ interior into the void.

“Them micht not as like us much, suh,” the Caledonian Mican said.

“...What,” Hawle asked hopelessly, his left ear drooping.

“He said they probably don’t like us,” Dawton advised. “I studied Scottish dialects at university. She was intensive.”

“Say no more, it’s disturbing,” Hawle advised. He activated the comm from his armrest computer. “Loper to Rapta pirate vessel. We can do this until you’re debris in space. You surrender and we’ll take prisoners. There’s no sense in…”

“Sir,” Goole cut in, “I’m reading a build up in their power systems! They’re moving towards critical.”

“Ah’ve no’ hit them that bloody hard,” Tilloch protested.

“Sent to Hardy, Dawton. Emergency landing now! Chappers, get us out of here.” He tapped his comm. “Hawle to teleport chief! Can you lock on to anyone in the enemy vessel?”

<“Their shields are failing so… possibly?”>

“Do it! Screen out their weapons in transit.” He heard Raven tell Jaqui to get a guard there. “If they’re tricking us,” he grumbled, “I’m not leaving without a prize.” The board indicated all fighters were back so Hawle ordered the fast retreat.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I take it that they weren't tricking him which is why they retreated then? Though if they were Hawle probably would order a retreat to be able to come up with a plan to get the prize that he was hoping he could get.

[Welsh Halfwit]

12


There was no explosion, as Hawle had assumed there might not be. It didn’t much matter, he thought, as the pirate ship slammed into velocity speed as soon as the Loper was far enough away. He didn’t envy them. Velocity speed with failing shields and a compromised hull meant they were going to take a lot of damage to avoid taking more damage. They’d lay a trail of debris and energy stains that could be traced so they’d probably head for a hub of ships or a defensible position and he wasn’t that interested in bearding dragons in their own dens. It was more his style to lure the creature out, stake it’s tail to the ground with a rocket powered stake and then shoot it. Or at least assault when they didn’t know it was coming. Besides, he thought, they’d not exactly gone unrewarded, had they? “Set course for Sobley,” he told Sarah. “Best speed...”

<“Katara to bridge,”> the comm said, sounding over the speakers as she’d sent a general call.

“When agreed with Katara, of course,” Hawle finished. “Bridge. What’s the situation, Katara?”

<“Calling in to advise we have some minor damage to systems down here. Won’t take much time to sort the systems but you shouldn’t push it,”> the Vixen said, making Hawle imagine he could hear the spit flying and the scowl on her face. <“No more than velocity three until I say otherwise.”>

“Acknowledged,” Hawle replied, before realising it was like he was taking orders from her. “Say otherwise in the next sixty minutes,” he ordered before closing the line to her usual retort that she didn’t ‘Scottie’ the times. One day he’d have to find out what that actually meant.

“Very dominating, sir,” Raven stated, her grin exposing the lie.


The scrawny Wolven figure had looked around in shock after he was stolen, mid run, from the opposition ship and ran straight into the teleport chamber wall. He wasn’t where he was supposed to be, he knew that. The room was brighter and cleaner and had two U.S.C. guards in it, stun weapons ready and looking ready to use them. His weapon was gone. He flipped to a combat stance. The canine one pulled his weapon out and asked him if he wanted to be shot. He smiled and held up his mucky hands. The Mican one drew her weapon and shot him anyhow.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Darvell protested as the captured creature slumped to the floor.”

“Yeah, I did,” Gigan replied, stepping forward with the restraints. “You think either of us should go near an awake, scared, Wolf to slap these on?” She applied the heavy duty restraints meant for creatures with claws powerful enough to break the usual restraints. “It was on low power anyhow,” she said, stepping back as the Wolf groaned. “Wears off fast.” She crouched. “You getting up?”

“Might… oog… as well,” the captive replied, woozily pushing himself up without being able to use his hands.


They’d moved him to a small office that, he supposed, was an interrogation room close to a cell area. It was a small ship but, he figured, bigger than a clipper ship. One of the frigates the Council kept around. He wasn’t exactly devoted to the clan and he wanted to know who he was dealing with to work out what sort of deal he could con out of these do gooders. He’d already worked out the Canine guard he’d met was an optimist and the Mican a realist. She didn’t trust him at all. He appreciated that. If he got the chance he’d stun her rather than kill her. He’d kill the Canine, though. There was no place for optimism out here. He glowered at the door opposite as it opened and a Lappinean in a security suit and a Jondahl Squirrel who looked intimidated by him stepped in and closed the door behind them before stepping over to the far corner of the room and putting a device on the table. A recorder, he assumed, as the female Lappinean sat and introduced herself as Chief Pangal. So it was the Loper he was on, was it? Known for being fair but unpredictable in tactics. He made up a name. It didn’t hurt to fool people. The nutlover made a note on a padd. What was that about?

“You’re under arrest on charges of piracy and aiding and abetting in crimes. The more you co-operate, the lesser the sentence. Provide enough information honestly and with accuracy and you will be considered for remediation programs.”

“Like reclaim,” Wilde replied. “Living with an implanted bomb. You imagine I’m not used to that?”

“You imagine it wasn’t negated, along with your weapons, during teleport?”

“Thank you for that but I’m not interested in putting a new one in.”

“Is prison better?” Jaqui slid back. “What was the name of that ship anyhow?”

Wilde considered. It didn’t mean much to give them a truth. It might even convince them he could tell the truth, which would help him. “The Tarenka,” Another note. “Who’s he,” Wilde asked, nodding to Harvey.

“Observer,” Pangal replied as Harvey gave him a little wave. “Rules.” She kept up the questions, asking him about what he did over on the Tarenka – cook, apparently – the things the Tarenka had done that he knew about, local bases and the command crew of the ship.


Rakkel checked her messages. Three from her grandparents, encouraging her to keep in contact and one from command saying the Loper would be delayed and she’d need to stay on Sobley another night. She rubbed her muzzle, not feeling the scales under the fur as she was so used to them. She’d had to pay for the extra night on her own account and that had bitten into her savings somewhat, even though she’d get it back on expenses. But it was coming close to the cut-off time for booking another night and… The comm dinged with another message and she smiled, as her eyes seemed to brighten, the second eyelids flickering as she read that the Loper was en route and would be picking her up in four hours. Her slightly forked tongue played across her teeth as she thought on meeting her loved ones again, even if Night might not forgive easily. She readied her bags and called for a vessel to the spaceport.


Harvey handed Jaqui the padd as she called an end to the questioning for now and left him contained in the room. He waited until the door was closed before reporting. “From the surface thoughts he broadcast,” he said, even though he knew she knew he couldn’t go deeper without holding the wolf, “he’s not totally irredeemable. Only about 40% lies. His name really is Wilde but it’s Terry rather than Scar. He’s an engineer, not a cook. You can read the rest on here. And I need a shower…” He headed off before she could stop him.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I did enjoy reading all of this chapter and liked it so much I did it TWICE! It was a great entry to jump back into after the long Thanksgiving break!

[Welsh Halfwit]

13


Jaqui figured her work was never done and Night was a right pain to have as a friend who couldn’t, apparently leave this for another two hours, when she was due to be back on for the evening shift. But it didn’t matter much, she’d been awake and reading a book for the last two minutes. It was written by one of her prior boyfriends, a redeemed pirate who’d found a way to write about his own history under a fake name and she was proud of him, despite not being sure about how close the initial fight between the then pirate and the security chief was. She remembered things rather differently. Anyhow, she turned the padd off and swung her feet to the floor before tapping the comm on her wall. “Pangal here, Night,” she said aloud. “What’s up?”

The Mican showed up on screen. <“I need to talk to you about… Were you asleep?”>

“If I was,” Jaqui drawled, “I wouldn’t have answered. On with it.”

<“It’s the boy, Andros,”> she said. <“My systems have pulled out several scans on him. There’s something wrong.”>

“I guessed there was,” Jaqui replied, a little tersely. “You wouldn’t be calling otherwise. Irdamoda Syndrome or something, isn’t it?”

<“No,”? Night replied ernestly. <“That’s just it. He’s supposed to have Idiramoda syndrome. But he doesn’t. The scans all ring negative for that and positive for Delamin syndrome. It’s… similar to Idiramoda but… Oh, how to put it… If either of us were Human, I’d say it was cowpox compared to smallpox but...”>

“it’s a milder version,” Jaqui asked.

<“And it’s treatable in Raitchian hospitals. So why are they sending him to Sobley?”>

Something was pricking at the back of Jaqui’s Lappinean ears. “Can you send me all you have on this kid? I think it’s time to research him.”

“<Done,”> Night replied, dinging Pangal’s computer system with a file.

Jaqui set to work. Mysteries made her ears twist. It was hard to relax with twisted ears so back to bed wasn’t an option.


Jan pulled the panel shut for the final time and exhaled. This had been a busy day for her, something her best friend and boss didn’t seem to care about. “Flagging, Jan,” Katara said with an attempt at humour in her tone, “after your busman’s holiday?”

“Hardly a holiday,” Jan replied. “It was nostalgic, though. There were some anomalies that pointed towards shady people.”

“Like?”

“Repairs that weren’t using authorised parts and slapdash patches. Those parts are available out here, due to a deal with Soda-Fona so the only reason to not use them is not being able to buy things officially.”

“Or legal traders not being able to afford them,” Katara added,

“OK,” Jan laughed, “that one too. But it does point towards not being a militia and, frankly, that’s a lot of firepower for an independent trader.”

“Agreed.”


Hawle and Raven watched the recordings Goole had taken from the bridge of the Human ship and it was stark viewing. The systems had recorded four of them coming in, three frigate type assault vessels and a container type. The Human created ship hadn’t stood a chance, although they’d put up a heck of a fight, with manoeuvres recorded that Hawle had ideas about keeping and he almost fistpumped as the vessel landed a shot that exploded the engines of one of the ships before the others increased their firepower to effect a total victory over the ship, killing the recording to end the fight. Hawle sat back in the chair. “Remind me to tell Postain to buy a couple of Whitworth Passants. She did well in that.”

“Forward him the recording,” Raven stated, “He might be impressed. Three fighting vessels and a cargo hauler.”

“Hmm.” Hawle nodded. “I wonder where they’d been? That hauler should have had more than enough capacity for the plating that ship was carrying. Obvious observation was this was a trawling mission and they were full.” He pushed himself back up in his seat. “I wonder where the Rapta’s have their local repair base? I mean they were obviously towed somewhere as… they weren’t here when we got here.”

“And they’ve reacted to the current situation by travelling in packs.”

“Mmm. Makes it hard to ambush four ships at once with any real success. You have to have four ships involved for one thing.” He helped himself to one of the sandwiches that had been curling up at the edges during the half hour replay. “Not like Cedar to provide stale stuff,” he complained.

“It wasn’t stale forty minutes ago,” Raven mooted, having eaten hers almost as soon as it had arrived.

“Could explain it.” Hawle munched away.


Cedar prepared the evening meal for Andros, having taken the order from the digital serving padd and trying to remember how to make Yalpie Twizzlers, the popular Raitchian child junk food and hide them because he knew full well that, if seen, the Raitchians in the crew would demand these insults to culinary artistry be made on regular occasions. With the help of Talaxar, who’d been told to bite him to stop him if needed, he’d been able to resist the urge to ‘jazz them up’ to try and make himself feel better about making them. He’d added a little spice to the beans, though. Raitchians always felt beans were under spiced, even in sauce. Add to that a glass of hot, spiced, Cocolatte and it was ready for serving. He covered it with a steel dome and handed it to Talaxar. “You can go deliver it,” he stated, wanting it out as soon as possible.

“What’s with the dome,” the Celican youth asked, puzzled. “It’s only Yalpie Twi… oh, right. Not even we’ll eat ‘em but Raitchian’s love ‘em.”

“That’s the one. Covered in a dome, you’re taking Night an evening meal. Uncovered, we’ll be pestered to death in three hours.” The little Mican twirled a finger. “Off you go!” The youth put a towel over his crooked arm and held the food above his head as he strode out.

“Clown,” Cedar chuckled.

[Amazee Dayzee]

I guess this goes to show that Hawle's attention can easily be hijacked by something else and that he might forget to eat if that is the case. But on the other hand Elena will probably use it to divert his attention away from something to get him to focus on her.

[Welsh Halfwit]

14


The prisoner wriggled in his seat in the interrogation room as Pangal kept him waiting unnecessarily for files she didn’t need. She had them in her hand after Harvey had provided the goods and the Squirrel was ready with the next part of the plan, a sandwich. It had been three hours so he was probably getting peckish and would even fancy this waldorf salad sandwich. Trust Humans to mix vegetables and nuts in a way that sold well to the vegan species, the nut species – well, the Jondahl anyhow – and the omnivores as you could add meat to it if you wanted. Anyhow, it tended to work. She looked at the time and decided it was about time to continue. She nodded to Harvey and he ordered a replicated coffee from the machine and added it to the tray he brought in.


Jaqui opened the door and let Winsome in as he had no hands freeand he walked in to put his tray down on the table, well away from Wilde, who looked at the platter in confusion. Jaqui followed him in and sat down opposite the Wolven. “His lunch,” she said, by way of explanation.

“It’s night,” he replied caustically.

“If it were night he wouldn’t be here,” Jaqui argued. “But it’s no matter. He’s an observer so he’s allowed to eat.”

“Where’s mine?”

“Food’s for those who tell the truth, Terry,” Pangal told him, having pulled up his thin file on the padd and slid it across to him. “Your jacket indicates your real name and the fact you’re an engineer. A few minor warrants out for your arrest. Nothing that much concerns us. What does concern me is the fact I had to waste resources finding these things out. Hence no food.”

Harvey started nibbling his sandwich, taking his time deliberately.

Wilde looked down at the table reluctantly and huffed out a sigh as he considered things and chose his words carefully. “You really think there are many pirates called Terry? Wouldn’t last ten minutes if that got out. I’ve kept that secret for two years. And I never stole what they say I did. I did kill the manager, though. A matter of honour and principle. He’s the one stole the engines and blamed me. His brother was the local Police so there was no real way of proving my innocence. So I legged it and proved my use to the Chief Engineer on the Tarenka. Worked my way up.”

“Good,” Jaqui replied. “Now, where might the Rapta clan be building a shielded ship with the ore they’re stealing?”

He looked from one to the other in confusion. “I… I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Jaqui glanced to Harvey as he continued eating his sandwich. She looked back at the Wolven, now drooling slightly at the sandwich. Or, Jaqui mooted, the person eating the sandwich. “You know a new chemical was discovered a few years back? Makes ships harder to scan?” He nodded. Good. She wouldn’t have to explain that. “It’s more effective if it’s in the plate make up rather than painted on. So places like Monta, Raicarra…”

“The U.S.C.,” Wilde interrupted with a sly grin. “Keeping it in house and licenced.”

“Accurate. Wouldn’t want it falling into the hands of pirates, would we?”

“But companies with barely any oversight are fine.”

She nodded slightly. “You choose your villains. For me it’s the ones who aren’t protected by legal restrictions I have to worry about. Like yours. The clan with an undetectable ship is bad news. Could do lots of bad things. If we stop them, they might not. So, I ask again. Where is the ship being built? Tell me what you know.”

Wilde indicated Harvey with the chipped claw of a thumb. “Or he’ll take it from my head,” he asked. “Figured it out, rabbit. Only the Loper has a Lappinean head of security in this area and it’s rumoured that the mad Rabbit has a telepath on staff. You, right?”

“Low level,” Harvey said, before Pangal could tell him not to talk. “Surface thoughts only. And we’re not breaching rights. I’m just pointing her in directions to speed up enquiries. But I can tell if you’re lying and I’ll tell her. Which may slow up certain processes within lawful parameters,” he added, taking a bigger bite of the sandwich.


“So what does he have,” Hawle asked, sitting on one of the sickbay beds as Barleycorn showed him the readings. “Explain to me like I’m not a medical prodigy who understands seventeen syllable words and can’t say transcendentalism, much less spell it.”

Night tapped on the padd again, making the display turn off. “So, basically, imagine I’m talking to the Commander of a starship?”

“Ow.”

“You asked for it. Anyhow, no, he doesn’t have Idiramoda syndrome. He has Delamin syndrome, a much lighter and treatable thing that acts a bit like Idiramoda. But, even then, it’s hiding something else.” She risked turning the display back on. “His bloodwork’s been artificially altered,” she explained. “probably by the administered treatments. She closed in on the platelets, that looked exactly like platelets to Hawle’s inexpert eye. “You see,” she asked.

“Nope.”

She zoomed in again so Hawle could actually see the edges of the platelets and the markings on the side of each. “See the ‘scars’” she asked.

“Yes.”

“They’re artificial. Cutting edge gene tech for holding information.”

“But not something usually used by pirates. Hawle sighed. “Does he know?”

“About the misdiagnosis? Not yet. I’ll tell him shortly. But I don’t think the danger to him is over yet.”

“No,” Aldair said, lying back on the bed and putting his hands behind his head. “They told him he had to be moved, they made him believe it – and his family. They hired those people to ship him. They had someone at the other end was going to pick him up and do what they needed to retrieve that message.” He opened an eye to see Night looking down at him with amusement. “Yes,” he said, in response to her about to be asked question, “I’m comfortable, thank you. Was he booked in at the hospital?”

“He was. I checked.”

“Then we have to assume whatever’s going to happen, it’s due to happen there. We need to start figuring out who might be the insider in the hospital.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “I’ll have Rakkel start that off before she starts work here.” His ears frizzed as he figured out what he’d just said and his eyes snapped open as he cringed.

“Pardon me,” Night said, humourlessly.

[Amazee Dayzee]

What exactly did he say in the last part that was so inappropriate for someone that isn't his fiancee? I'm not sure if it was inappropriate or Night wasn't supposed to know about Rakkel.

[Welsh Halfwit]

They WERE trying to keep that secret as long as possible...

[Amazee Dayzee]

In that case it looks like Hawle just outed that secret and has had pie smushed in his face for being so careless. I'm sure that he must know the old adage "loose lips sink ships" and his lips were really loose just then.

[Welsh Halfwit]

And a guest character pops in.

15


Rakkel sat up as the call came in. She’d been about to leave for the starport where the shuttle was to pick her up in just seven hours and the ident showed it was coming in from the Loper! She licked a hand and made sure her headfur was perfect and she stood, her chest forward and hands behind her back before telling her comm, linked into the hotel system, to accept the call.

Night Barleycorn glowered at from the scree. Rakkel gulped slightly. <“You and I are going to have words, young lady,”> Night threatened, <“but I understand you have an interest in security issues?”>

Rakkel nodded hesitantly. “I can ex…”

<“Later. As it stands, we have something that needs looking into on Sobley. You’re there so you can start the work for us.”> She sent the file through to the computer system. <“Someone connected with the hospital is working for an unknown entity, smuggling information. You can work with the IOC Office there and get the ball rolling. You’re the Loper’s representative there. Don’t let us down.”>

“I won’t,” Rakkel replied. “Aunty Night, I want to expl…”

<”We’ll be there tonight so you can do it over breakfast tomorrow,”> Night replied sharply, before a twitch of a grin. <“We’ll be having roast Raitchian.”> She let the link close and Rakkel breathed out. How was she supposed to..?

The door booped. “Um, yeah,” she called, “who is it?”

“Security Officer Rakkel Carramy,” the female voice said from outside the door.

“No, that’s me. Who are you?”

“I’m holding my badge up to your camera?”

“Oh.” Rkkel turned the system back on and found the doorcam channel. An IOC badge for a Raitchian covered most of the screen. After the badge pulled back, Rakkel could see the Raitchian behind it. “Who sent you?”

“Chief Jaqui Pangal of the Loper,” the voice said. “Can you let me in/ It’s cold out here.”

Rakkel opened the door to the slightly cheap looking Raitchian, who introduced herself. “I’m Harmony Whitestar,” she said, offering a hand, “On temporary secondment from a more desertified colony.

“Rakkel,” Rakkel said, taking the hand. “What have they told you about this?”

“Sod all,” Harmony replied. “I’m to help you with the enquiries and clear the way. So, you want digital warrants for the hospital crews?”

“Once we find out who they are,” Rakkel replied, hoping she was keeping up with this.


Hawle sat on the bridge, reading through Pangal’s reports of her interrogations of the Pirate and tutting. There was little loyalty, he reasoned, in the clans. They were always looking out for their own best interests. Not like Sarina. Sarina, his trusted first officer, who, he knew, never wanted to leave his side. They’d had a three way conversation recently, her, him and Chief Postain and he’d agreed never to put her up for promotion if she’d agree to stop creating minor and medium indiscretions to stop herself being promoted. She’d accepted the offer. Hawle mooted that she could spend less money on booze now. She’d told him not to expect miracles. The barman had banned her from the Starwheel bar on the ship. This was fine. Maze couldn’t afford hurt pilots or deck crew. Someone was talking to him. Oh, it was Sarina. “Sorry, Raven, what did you say?”

“I was asking what we’re going to do with the pirate? Jaqui wants to know.”

“Tell her we’re keeping hold of him until we get back to Cora II. We need a Council holding facility for him. We certainly can’t release him to the law on Sobley as it’s rumoured they have links with the clans.”

Raven frowned. “I’ve never heard that,” she mentioned, checking the rumours on the net to see if she’d missed something of importance.

“Oh, you won’t find it there,” Hawle said dismissively. “I’ve only just rumoured it, after all. I much prefer our jails to theirs anyhow. You’ve seen them. What do you think?”

She nodded gently. “Some local jails are pretty bad.”

“You ready to take over until Stikka relieves you?”

“As usual. What are you going to do?”


Hawle kicked open the door to the security room, his hands being occupied by two plates from Cedar and a couple of drinks from the Starwheel bar that he was taking in to the prisoner. Pangal looked at him in surprise. “That’s not exactly standard practice,” she stated, watching him head into the interrogation room, where the Wolven looked up in surprise.

“Well, I’m not exactly by the book,” Hawle told her ad Wilde asked what the &%^$ was going on. “I’d heard you hadn’t been fed yet,” Hawle replied, before Wilde indicated the salad sandwich he was holding. Hawle made to leave. “Oh, I’ll take this Devinnik Casserole back then.”

Wilde looked with watery and desperate eyes. “You have Devinnik Casserole under there?”

“And…” Hawle checked the drink. “I think it’s deep bitter?” The sandwich hit the wall behind the Wolven as he tossed it over his shoulder. “That’s littering, you know,” Hawle asked, putting the tray down and sorting out the foods.

“You want me to eat casserole with a spoon?”

Hawle chuckled. “If you think I’m giving you anything bladed or pointy…”

“Point made,” Wilde said, starting on his food.


On Sobley, Rakkel sat with her knees almost against her chest in the small car Agent Whitestar was driving. The back of the vehicle had a fair selection of clothes and charity things in it for shipping later, Whitestar had told her. They parked up in the visitor’s car park and headed to see the administrator.


“What is it you want,” the administrator, a Canine female asked as they walked through the wards.

“The details of everyone supposed to be working on the Idiramoda syndrome case coming in this evening,” Rakkel asked as a couple of doctors went past. “We need to get all the information we can on them.” Harmony tapped her on the shoulder. The IOC agent pointed to one of the doctors who’d just passed by, who was now running at speed. “Was he one of them,” Rakkel asked. The administrator nodded and Rakkel took off after them.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Now she has to try to get the doctor who was working on the case that she is on to spill everything that they know. I hope Rakkel will be able to get it out of him quickly.

[Welsh Halfwit]

16


Rakkel rolled her eyes as she took off after the Doctor like a professional sprinter. Well, she assumed he was a Doctor. He was wearing the right outfit to be one but, she thought, he probably assumed he was far enough away to escape. But he wasn’t. Rakkel’s Varkonian lizard power joined with the Celican side to enhance her muscles and speed without increasing her weight. For her size, she could run about ten percent faster than her pure Celican counterparts and she could hit harder too. She’d found that out in the year of school she’d had when with her grandparents. Growing up in a ‘settlement camp’ taught you how to make sure you stayed alive in the outside universe and she put clear intent into her eyes as she smacked through the doors at the end of the ward and pursued the Doctor down the stairs, snapping at him to stay still. She told him sharply that she needed to talk with him.


“Were you expecting that,” Harmony asked the administrator patiently, heading to the office. They entered a small, wood panelled, room with a small Formica table and chair set atop a deep blue carpet that shuffled and sounded like video interference under Harmony’s bargain basement boots

“No,” the administrator replied, “I was not.” she indicated Harmony could sit on one of the chairs.

“Thanks,” Harmony replied, sitting as the Canine opened up her computer. “Cutbacks?”

“I believe the money is better spent elsewhere,” she replied flatly. “From your attire, you agree?”

“Well, it’s getting more for the cash but yeah. So, who’s the flight risk?”

“Doctor Cobal Teyra,” she replied, “a phlebotomist. A recent transfer in from private practice.” She frowned as she looked up the history. “I have it here… somewhere. Yeah. Ackerbly pharmaceutical care on Micanna.” She showed Harmony the screen. “Said he wanted to be more on the public edge than in research. He had the qualifications.”

“And the connections,” Harmony muttered as she looked up the company on the net. “A wholly owned subsidiary of Raicarra Pharmaceuticals.”


Rakkel was impressed. The Doctor had almost made it to the parking lot before she tackled him, taking him face first through the door and bearing him down to the ground. “Stop fighting,” she demanded of the Mican as he gasped for breath and felt his face where she’d impacted the door with it. She attempted to cuff him before she recalled she didn’t actually have any cuffs yet. Auntie Jaqui had to authorise those. She pulled the protesting medic back up to his feet and kept hold of his arm to pull him back with her. She glared at the security officers she passed and demanded the restraints one of them was carrying so she could strap the Doctors’ hands behind his back before taking the male upstairs. She noted the trickles of red through the white fur. Sandpaper effect on the floor perhaps. Whatever.


She pushed him into the administrators room after being directed by a nurse who, Rakkel felt, might possibly think she was a stripper in an outfit judging by how she kept looking at the youngster’s thighs on the way up. She thought she might have had to arrest her had she been telepathic but there would have been legal problems. Harmony glanced back to her . “What kept you?”

“Doctor… whatever was fly on his feet.”

“And flat on his face,” Harmony remarked. “You got somewhere we can keep this for a bit,” she asked the administrator.

“Harna,” the Canine called, drawing an Equinna in a security uniform that had Rakkel looking him up and down. “Put Doctor Teyra in conference room two and don’t let him leave. He leaves, you lose your job, got it?”

“Got it,” Harna replied, trying not to smile at Rakkel’s gape as he took the reluctant Mican with him.


“I’m not that interested in the base he came from just yet,” Hawle told Jaqui as they stood watching Wilde in the cell on the monitor. “So we won’t act on what he told us quite yet. They’d be expecting us to react quickly so you know what I’d do?”

“Something stupid and inventive,” Jaqui asked with a grin?

Hawle rolled his eyes. “I mean what I’d do if I were them?”

“Run like stink in case the Rodomont pops by?”

“Well, there’s that. But I might also concentrate my forces where I think they’re going to strike. I’ll get the Militia around Coltera to do some discrete investigations. Control’s all about increasing interaction between our ships and the Militias. It’s a daft idea but as it’s there, I’ll abuse it. In a few days, if he’s still with us, I’ll ask Katara to swing by and offer him some work. He’ll be desperate enough by then, perhaps.”

“But will she be?” Jaqui stepped around to her desk. “Has Night forgiven you for the Rakkel thing yet?”

Hawle quirked an ear at her, his eye glinting as he asked if she’d forgiven him yet. “After all, I knew before you did. Greyson thinks he got the news first but she told me a week back. I could have stopped her being transferred here but that would just mean she’d be on another ship.”

She looked him straight in the eye. “Oh, I didn’t appreciate being fooled, Aldair. You should have told me. But I’d have accepted it, if I’d known.”

“Injuries to Fuze aside, you mean?” Hawle dropped the light tone. “He came to me after that encounter, Jaqui. To advise me that it had happened, rather than report it.”

“I shouldn’t have had a go, I know…”

“You’re muffins and cookies straight you shouldn’t! If he’d have wanted to take it further it could have meant an assault charge, Jaqui! An investigator from another ship could have been called in. That’d be a stupid way to end a career.”

“Noted, sir. I wonder if she and Agent Whitestar have had any luck down on the planet?” She looked up at his quizzical face. “I asked the local office to assist her.”

Hawle granted a tiny smile. “Aaaand, you’re back.”


Harmony looked at the financial reports for Doctor Teyra. “Hmm,” she mooted, “If he used to work for Raicarra,” she mused after viewing the results of the speed warrant, “why is he being paid by a subsidiary of Monta Weapontech?”

[Amazee Dayzee]

It always is interesting to see Hawle change from lighthearted into serious mode when the occasion calls for it. I know for a fact that Elena probably finds it very hot.

[Welsh Halfwit]

17


“She’s done quite well,” Aldair noted to Night as the Raitchian worked on settling down the bedding in the main medical bay. She was, obviously, still annoyed and was keeping her tone clipped but more or less formal as she finished the work of cleaning up. “Caught a suspect and taken him to the IOC HQ for questioning. A bright start.”

“I suppose,” Night grumbled. “I’m not happy about her going into security.”

“Where would you like her to have gone,” Hawle asked, palms up. “If you like it or not, her education was woefully restricted. Using her academic qualifications might have gotten her into lower management at unskilled occupations. Sure, she’s industrious but industry doesn’t get you into the boardroom. So she had to go physical…”

Night spun to face him. “And she could have become an athlete! Or a physical trainer or…”

“...or something else that’s more often left to holograms these days,” Hawle interrupted, before waving a hand. “The trainer part. The athletics part is still natural. But you know the troubles she’s had with that over her Varkonian heritage. She can’t represent Celica at species games, she can only go colonial so she’d never get top grade. Never get much coverage. Never get as much publicity to inspire. Coming in this way she’s paying for education in her off hours and she’ll gain seniority over time, Night…”

“But she’ll be placed in danger on regular occasions,” Night protested.

“And she’ll have back up on every occasion. Jaqui’s not letting her be alone. And she’ll have the best medical support in the sector in close support with you and Baz… Where IS Doctor Fuze, by the way?”

“Staying out of my way,” Night snapped coldly. “You might have learned about it recently but Bazil’s the one who signed her form for access to training! He’s in bay two. Where he’s safe.” She huffed. “What happens when I fail, Aldair?” She pounded the bed. “What happens when I fail to save her?”

“What happens when you don’t try,” Aldair replied sharply. “What happens when you’re not there when someone’s hurt?” He stood up and stepped closer to her. “That’s why you do everything to make sure you get things right! And you do it for everyone, Night? Am I supposed to believe you won’t save me if I’m hurt? That you won’t give your all so you can have another coffee with Jaqui if she was on your table needing a miracle? You,” he added, face a few feet away from hers, “will ONLY ever fail her or any other member of this crew if you stop trying. And, Night? I KNOW you will never stop trying. So you can STOP wailing about things that have already happened and start working on how you can adapt to having a family member on the crew. Take it as you will.” He stepped away, towards the door. He paused and looked back. “And, Night? If you don’t believe you can treat her with the same professionalism as you do everyone else? If you want to avoid having to treat her?” He sighed. “Then I will accept any transfer requests and keep the circumstances out of it.”

“Wait…” Night spoke up as Hawle stepped over the threshold. He turned, placing his foot on the ground. “I… can’t say it won’t be hard,” she admitted, “but you’re right. It’s better she’s here. I just… need to get used to it.”

“You imagine I didn’t feel the same thing when Hawthorne turned up at the Campus a few years after me?” He chuckled drily. “Or when she got command of one of our underpowered clippers out here in the patch?” He sighed. “Yu wonder if I think about her when an unexpected message comes in from command? I get a momentary thrill of fear that something’s happened to her. But I trust in her, Night. I trust in her capabilities.” He put his hand on her arm. “Like I trust in you.”

“I still resent you and Bazil,” Night replied with the tiniest of grins.

“As you should,” Aldair replied. “I do horrible things every day. If we’re not on the same side.” He offered her a mint imperial from his pocket.

“You’re carrying these things around with you in a pocket now,” she asked, taking one.

“It’s either that or strap my armrest to my belt.”


Raven took the time to look in on the prisoner. She wasn’t doing anything official, just being nosey, and noted the black and grey markings of the Wolven that was sat on his bunk in the cell, his weathered leather jacket making him look a little larger than he actually was whilst the new boots they’d given him sat tight on his feet, the steel caps keeping his toe claws in as his ragged tail swatted the bed. “What,” he demanded.

“Nothing,” she replied. “Just thought I’d look at you. Let you know who’d take you apart if you try anything on this ship.”

“Hmph. Noted.” He sneered. “My information being useful?”

“Like I’d tell you. We move when we want to. And I imagine you’ve left a lot out. Friends and loved ones?”

“You get nothing from me, Feline. I’ve heard about you. You play by the rules.”

Sarina stepped to the side. “Until they threaten me with promotion,” she told him. “Next round’s in two months.” She smiled slightly, showing her teeth.

“As I said, noted.”


No,” Katara noted, “You have to be joking.” She put her padd down and glared at Hawle. They were in her office, with the door shut and Hawle was thankful she was keeping her temper “He’s a pirate.”

“Who, according to Harvey, might be redeemed.”

“He’s not a psychoanalyst,” Katara snapped. “He doesn’t know he can trust him. YOU don’t know you can trust him.”

“As I’ve recently told someone else,” Hawle responded, “it’s you that I trust. You’ve been putting in for a new engineer and they’ve kept saying ‘not in the budget’. Here’s someone who’s claimed to be an engineer of several years experience. I want to test that. See if we can get him onside. We’ll take the usual precautions but…”

“You should get Raven to assign people I don’t want to me, Rabbit. It’s safer for you.” She taloned her claws for a moment. “I’ll have to supervise EVERYTHING he’ll do. I’ll set up some tests in the holoroom for him. But I make NO promises!”

Hawle had figured she wouldn’t.

[Amazee Dayzee]

Well that is Hawle then. Getting his crew upset at him and wanting to throttle him with every action he takes but at the same time they will stand behind him out of loyalty as they know he has their backs.

[Welsh Halfwit]

18


Sobley, Raven thought as the shuttle dropped in to land, was kinda grey. Grey buildings, grey streets. Grey grass due to the minerals in the ground. It was when she reasoned that the water was green that she scowled and noted that ‘someone’ had applied a film over the screens. She couldn’t help but wonder when he’d had the time to do it and tapped a few keys to remove the filter so Sobley showed up as the standard greens and blues… with grey grass. She was five miles out, with Night in the passenger bay and a note in her pocket to pick Hawle up some Starberry fruits after meeting with the local IOC chief about the captured Doctor. She wasn’t using the teleport system as Hawle wanted her to know how to pilot this new super shuttle. His thoughts on that had been twofold. One, he was hoping he could keep it so training up pilots was a good idea. The second was the fact he wanted people to know they had it. To see if it shook anyone up. That had been when Raven had declared she was tking it down and not him. He must have set her up… Raven grumbled that she’d get him and brought the ship in for landing near the IOC office, taking up ten parking spaces in the local car park as she landed across them.

“I think you’re over the lines,” Night said, attempting to make light as Raven delegated the two guards to stay inside the shuttle on guard. “You’re going to get fined.”

“Less than if I parked on the street, Night,” Sarina replied, eiting the shuttle by the rear hatch and waiting for the Mican to join her. “Imagine if I’d tried that. Delays from here to…” She gestured with an arm across the spartan landscape that stood, remarkably, empty. “Where is everyone?”

Night snorted as she pulled her coat on. “This is the land of the long sun, Sarina. It’s three forty in the morning here.

Sarina shrugged and led the way over to the IOC building.


“Idents,” the rather bored guard said as they entered. He barely looked up at them and Raven had the feeling he’d been asleep five seconds ago. She looked down at the uniform she was wearing which, although adapted a little due to Hawle’s lax uniform discipline, was still very obviously a U.S.C. Commander’s outfit with the gold trim and chevroned epaulettes and… oh, yeah, she wasn’t wearing her bandolier pistol today. Night was in her official medical staff uniform with the accurate markings and everything.

“You’re not serious,” Sarina announced. “You were told a Burman commander and a Mican Doctor were coming at least an hour ago. Or were you asleep,” she growled, making the Canine snap awake and check his logs.

Night merely put her card on the desk. “Here to talk to a prisoner and pick up a passenger.”


Stepping out of the lift on the floor occupied by the I.O.C., Night found herself hit by a scaly Celican missile and hugged her tight. “Uff! Ram...ramming speed,” she asked Rakkel, happy to have her arms around her now she was here as Rakkel kissed her hed and spun her around.

“Auntie Night,” the girl said happily.

“Heya, Rakkel,” Night said, before hearing Raven cough. “I’ll get you something for that,” she told the Burman, who nodded into the office. “Ah, right,” Night said as she saw the team in the office, “not in front of the agents.” She regained her composure as Rakkel released her. “We talk later, sweetie.” She stepped into he office.


“Are you taking him off our hands,” Senior agent Wallanby asked, his powerful frame loping as he led Raven to his office. He sat in his chair, powerful back legs straining against the floor as he pushed himself under the desk. “We’d really rather you did. Otherwise the locals might think we’ve… overstepped.”

“Well,” Sarina remarked, standing opposite the Walla male, “you might have to bite the bullet on this.” She laid out what little they knew so far about the boy, the virus… she corrected herself to syndrome… that he didn’t have and the one he did have and the fact that there was something unusual going on in the boy’s blood. This was, of course, what had necessitated Rakkells’ investigations at the hospital.

“So it could well be argued that all his crimes were committed here. He wasn’t responsible for the trafficking of the child and didn’t know what was happening?”

“He could argue that,” Raven declared. “It’s government subsidy but he could argue it.”

A sigh. The chief rubbed his hand across the desk. “Of his legal enforcer could.”


Rakkel perched on the desk, looking towards the chief’s office and Harmony could tell she was concerned, trying to hear what the pair were saying behind the closed door. She looked from the door to the youngster and back. “They’re probably just talking the situation over,” she counselled, “you did brilliantly, by the way.”

Rakkel cracked a smile. “Thanks. I just chased him down.”

“All you had to do,” Harmony agreed. “Along with using minimum necessary force, controlling the scene and maintaining order.” She took the pop she was gnawing out of her mouth and pointed it to Rakkel’s outfit. “The uniform only goes so far.”

“And Auntie Night’s doing the interrogation. Shouldn’t I be in there?”

“Agent Yirrik’s taking the interrogation. Doctor Barleycorn’s there to talk Doctor to Doctor and see if she can break through via that oath thing they do.”

Rakkel crossed her arms. “They don’t have to take that oath thing, y’know? The ‘do no harm’ thing. However you want to put it. The Council standardises it but, when it comes to us lot, the ethics of one species don’t match the ethics of another.”


Sarina stood to excuse herself from the chief’s office, she pulled herself fully upright and began heading for the door. She turned back to face the local chief. “Oh, by the way… Where can I pick up some Starberry fruits?”

Wallanby looked at her as though she was mad. His ears twitched and the left corner of his muzzle pulled back to show his teeth. “Our vending machine,” he announced.


Night intercepted her as she tried to convince the machine to accept her ident. “Those are bad for your teeth,” she warned.

“Not for mine, Doctor,” Raven stated, thumping the machine as it half disgorged the packet, holding on to it by a fraction. The candy dropped into the receiving area and she picked it up as someone complained about her hitting the machine. “You have something?”

“Sort of,” Night replied. “He knew nothing much but… he DID know where he was supposed to send the blood. Monta’s local plant.”

[Amazee Dayzee]

Guess they will be checking out the plant in Monta next if I am understanding that right. Doesn't sound too bad but I'm sure that it is.