///BEGIN ANSIBLE TRANSMISSION...

///LOADING INTERFACE... OK

///READY FOR CONTENT

Credits. Credits are the grease that keeps the galactic machinery moving. Whether it's to stop the gears from turning for the tiniest measure of time, or keep them running when they're not supposed to, credits make it all happen.

Credits gave me influence enough to have my Orca stripped of registry and delivered ahead to Columbi's Haven. Even more, and the cargo bay was swapped out with a state-of-the-art medical bay. And yet even MORE, Looper and his daughter were spirited from their guarded hospital rooms and set up on the ship. Orcas, Dolphins, Belugas and other luxury craft filled the skies over Columbi's Haven, and I was able to slip away in the mix without so much as a cursory glance from Imperial patrols.

I never did explain anything to the station commander. Didn't have a chance. I docked the Nova Centurion, palmed credits into a few technicians under the Romeo Eclipse, climbed aboard and was jumping back to the Bubble as soon as I verified my charges were safely in the med bay.

Both have Xeno-poisoning. Bad. All the telltale signs - flaking skin, mottled flesh, sunken eyes, labored breathing. The med bay was worth every penny. The beds automated their medical treatment and fluid intake. By the time I was halfway to Ix, they had begun to get color back in their skin.

Still unconscious, though.

I'm so sorry. I wasn't fast enough, my friend. I should've stayed closer. You nearly died because I was joyriding out in the cosmos.

I put an info bounty out on the Pistol Derby through the Pilot's Federation. GalNet flashed a news brief on how the Keliuona Brothers faction disbanded shortly after I had left for Witch Head. Imperial authorities have put out a reward for information on the gang's sudden collapse.

I'm going to be laying low for a while. Blending in with the other civvies mining or running cargo. Give my friends time to recover and let the heat die down a bit.

I've just realized that it's been three days since I've had a full night's sleep. Gonna get some rack. Then I'll figure out what the hell this was all about.

///END CONTENT

///ENCRYPTING... DONE

///TRANSMITTING... DONE

///END ANSIBLE TRANSMISSION

///IMPERIAL RECORDS DATABASE

///ENTER CLIENT AUTHORIZATION

: \ ]

///VERIFYING... GRANTED

///ENTER QUERY PARAMETERS

: \ ]control logs, columbi's haven, 1157 local

///PLEASE WAIT...

///COLUMBI'S HAVEN PORT CONTROL LOG

///DEC 25, 3305, 1157 LOCAL

[Petty Officer Kevin Madigan]: Roger, Majestic, you are clear of space dock. Safe journey out there.

[Petty Officer Trenton Tyrell]: Fuck this traffic. I hate Christmas.

[Madigan]: Just folk trying to get home for the holidays.

[Tyrell]: Haven't celebrated Christmas since I left Sol. Buncha materialistic nonsense.

[Madigan]: Must drive you mad living in the Empire, then.

[Tyrell]: Not out here. Out here nothing but ice, dirt and 'Goids. Well, ice and dirt, now, anyway.

[Madigan]: Illustrious Potentate, you are clear for take off. Mind the heavy traffic.

You going to get in on any of this traffic control, Mr. Traffic Controller?

[Tyrell]: Yeah, yeah.

Cosmic Centaur, you're clear. See ya.

[Madigan]: How professional.

[Tyrell]: Whoa, whoa, whoa, something just popped in. Coming in hot. Python by the looks of it.

[Madigan]: I got it.

Unidentified Python, reduce speed immediately and- calm down, commander. Slow your- commander, if you continue your course you will be fired upon.

[Lieutenant Raphael Iavorone] What's going on there?

[Madigan] Python just came in, sir, rocketing toward us like a bat out of hell. The pilot is hysterical.

[Iavorone]: On speaker, I'll handle it.

[Madigan]: Speaker on.

[Unidentified Python]: -atic on our tail. We have goods to trade and need clearance immediately!

[Iavorone]: Python, halt your advance or be fired upon this is your last warning. Send confirm.

[Python]: Are you fucking listening to me? Clear that fucking pad!

[Tyrell]: Jesus christ he's boosting in.

[Iavorone]: Batteries, control, see ship target. Python, incoming vector two-niner. Knock their shields down.

[Madigan]: They've deployed hardpoints.

[Tyrell]: Batteries firing. Their shields are down to 80%.

[Madigan]: MISSILES! INCOMING!

[Iavorone]: GET DOWN!

[Multiple warhead impacts registered.]

[Tyrell]: Multiple strikes! They've taken out power to turrets.

[Madigan]: What the hell!?

[Iavorone]: Pack hounds. Get crews on it now!

[Tyrell]: Another ship on scanners, coming in hot. Crusader with PF markings.

[Madigan]: They've deployed hard points.

[Iavorone]: This is Columbi's Haven control to all Imperial ships in this sector. Maday, we are under attack by unknown forces and requesting emergency response squadrons.

[Madigan]: Holy - sir, the new ship just opened up on that Python. WOW.

[Iavorone]: Patch me through.

[Madigan]: Done.

[Iavorone]: Unknown Crusader, this is control-

[Crusader]: Will be with you presently control. DO NOT FIRE on that Python. Will explain later.

[Tyrell]: Damn, that Python's gettin' knocked around - shields down. Cannon, multi-cannon, pulse lasers - jesus an Imperial Hammer? That Crusader has it all!

[Battery control]: Power restored control, give us targets.

[Iavorone]: Hold fire. I repeat, hold fire.

[Madigan]: The Python's dumping cargo sir. Reading multiple occupied escape pods.

[Tyrell]: They're rabbiting, FSD build up detected.

[Crusader]: Control do you copy?

[Iavorone]: This is control.

[Crusader]: Do not fire on those escape pods. Pirate slaves - they may need immediate medical attention for xeno caustic burns. Come here you-

[Madigan]: Emergency limpets deployed. Med bays standing by.

[Tyrell]: The Python's gone, sir.

[Crusader]: Fuck. Control? Sorry I couldn't ice them. Requesting permission to land.

[Iavorone]: Permission granted. Station commander will want an explanation once you get on board.

[Crusader]: With pleasure, control. Nova Centurion out.

[Iavarone]: Damage report.

[Tyrell]: Generators 7 through 10, 13, 15 and 19 have been heavily damaged. Other generators are compensating but won't hold out under current load. Minor damage to landing structures - still op.

[Madigan]: Ships in the lane report no damage, just frayed nerves and shields.

[Iavarone]: Shut down defense turrets, keep everything else going. Get damage crews making sure we didn't miss plugging a hole to the outside somewhere.

[Madigan]: Damage crews are working on it now.

[Iavarone]: Well then, let's get back to managing that traffic. Enough excitement for one day, Mr. Tyrell?

[Tyrell]: Yes, sir. Plenty.

///END COLUMBI'S HAVEN PORT CONTROL LOG

///AFTER ACTION REPORT:

Python, ID Pistol Derby - WANTED, Multiple Factions, Total 565,897 CR.

Crusader, ID Nova Centurion - FRIENDLY, All local investigations halted

Damage to Columbi's Haven - Damage costs have been paid by [REDACTED]. Individual has been promoted to King within the Empire.

///ISSUE BOUNTY FOR PIRATE VESSEL "PISTOL DERBY"?

: \ ]no

: \ ]exit

///EXITING IMPERIAL RECORDS DATABASE

///TRACKING REQUEST UPDATED AND APPROVED

///BEGIN ANSIBLE TRANSMISSION...

///LOADING INTERFACE... OK

///READY FOR CONTENT

Was finally able to find a pirate willing to talk back in Keliuona. Said the Pistol Derby was heading for HIP 17403. Had to ditch the Saros Calamity. Imperial authorities were getting a little unappreciative with me wracking up kills by the dozens.

Or maybe it was the crooked constabulary I left back on McCrea riddled with holes.

Or the pirate I left tied to my landing strut as I left Tujing.

Made it to 17403 and caught sight of the Derby making planetfall at A4A. When I reached them, they had multiple SRVs gathering fragments from the Thargoid wreck on the surface. I didn't have to guess what they were doing - using slaves to harvest the toxic Thargoid tech and haul it aboard while the pirate scum stayed safe and comfy on board.

The Pistol Derby was a Python. Perfect if you want to schlep around slaves, cargo and a decent fighting loadout. Lookouts spotted me quick - tracer fire immediately flew up to meet me as they gathered up the SRVs. I was able to strafe them but only managed to ding their shields a bit before they were off the ground. Telltale burst from their engines zapped them into warp. A quick scan of their wake and I was right behind them.

Tracked them for a few sectors. Of course, as a great inconvenience to everyone, I was pulled out of witch space by two Medusas. I hate getting yanked mid-jump. Always terrifying. The Derby got pulled too. I watched as the scan tendrils slapped against their hull while the other Medusa did the same to me. Mine went away pretty quickly. I'm in a ship built for hunting, not hauling.

But not hunting fucking Thargoids.

Shit hit the fan the moment the Pistol Derby's systems restored and their engines lit up with a boost. The Medusas began launching their swarms. I didn't know if Looper and his daughter were still on board. Couldn't take the chance.

With no AX weapons to speak of, I hit both with a spatter of mixed artillery that got them PISSED. The Derby jumped away. Had to duck and weave like mad while I scanned their wake. Shields were stripped in seconds. I listened as my hull's armor sizzled away under twin Medusa onslaught.

Scan completed and I threw everything I had into the engines. They took their sweet damn time. With a bang, stars and nebulae began flying past my cockpit. Nearly cried with relief.

I would always catch the Derby just as they jumped. They have that much of a start on me. You're welcome, shitheads. Didn't take more than a few jumps of cat and mouse for me to figure out where they were going.

They were flying straight for the Witch Head Nebula.

///END CONTENT

///ENCRYPTING... DONE

///TRANSMITTING... DONE

///END ANSIBLE TRANSMISSION

///LOADING IMPERIAL ARCHIVES

///PLEASE ENTER FILE TO DISPLAY

: \ ] SR-1023JH76-keliuona-incident-minutes

///FILE RESTRICTED. ENTER AUTHORIZATION:

: \ ] . . . . . . . . . . . .

///ACCESS GRANTED

///SEALED RECORDS - KELIUONA INCIDENT MINUTES

///WARNING: ORDAINED TOP SECRET BY ORDER OF LEGATE ANGIVALE, 13TH LEGION, EMERALD CITY, CUBEO

///UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS PUNISHABLE BY INCARCERATION OR DEATH

In attendance: Legate Harishaw Angivale, Agent Centurion Carlotta Huxley, Automated Stenographer

[Angivale]: At ease, Centurion. Please, have a seat. What did you find at McCrea?

[Huxley]: Thank you, sir. After reviewing the logs of the constable's murder, I was able to partially identify the attacker through his port records.

He docked using a ship called Saros Calamity, a heavily-modified Krait Mk. II. Ship registry through the Pilot's Federation lists one owner through his alias. "Cynic". The PF was not forthcoming about any further information, which leads me to believe he is of significant rank within their order.

[Angivale]: Elite?

[Huxley]: I would assume, sir. The Pilot's Federation is notoriously mum about its members, but there are some other details you should know.

Docking logs at McCrea state that an Imperial Prince landed at the station around the same time of the incident. Based on the expense of the Cynic's ship configuration and the makeup of the handful of landings that day, it's more than likely he is that Prince.

[Angivale]: A Prince AND an Elite?

[Huxley]: It looks like it, Sir. After the Saros Calamity left McCrea Gateway, it was tracked to several incidents in surrounding systems. 72 pirates from the Keliuona Brothers faction have been reported missing or killed in the last 24 hours.

[Angivale]: My god. What is he after?

[Huxley]: He appears to be searching for certain someones, based on the recordings.

[Angivale]: And they are?

[Huxley]: Unknown. Constable Watkins had their presence records erased from the McCrea terminal. I was able to confirm the "they" in the incident recordings as one male, approximately 36 years of age, and one female, approximately 8 years of age. A few eyewitnesses corroborated.

[Angivale]: Do you have a list of those witnesses?

[Huxley]: Right here, Sir.

[Angivale]: Excellent. And this Pistol Derby?

[Huxley]: Unregistered pirate vessel, sir. I am working several leads, but none have turned up anything yet.

[Angivale]: . . .

[Huxley]: . . . Legate ?

[Angivale]: I want all digital records of the McCrea incident moved to physical media and delivered to me personally as soon as possible. Your hands only.

[Huxley]: . . . Sir?

[Angivale]: Here is the approval for the tracking request. Once I have those records, you will be free to pursue this Cynic. Do not engage. Report back on his activities every 24 hours. Understood?

[Huxley]: Um... yes, sir. And the unknowns?

[Angivale]: Let this Prince hunt for them. Should you find the Pistol Derby or its owners and occupants before him, contact me and I will have an agent drop a hint over ansible.

[Huxley]: Understood, sir.

[Angivale]: Dismissed, Centurion.

[Pause]

[Angivale]: Computer, send this list to IISS. Highest priority. Targets are to be silenced by any means necessary. And contact Acheron. I need to talk to the Imperial Palace.

///END BRIEFING MINUTES

: \ ] purge file SR-1023JH76-keliuona-incident-minutes

///WARNING: DESTRUCTION OF TOP SECRET DATA WITHOUT AUTHORIZATION IS PUNISHABLE AS TREASON. ENTER AUTHORIZATION CODE:

: \ ] . . . . . . . . . . . .

///AUTHORIZATION GRANTED TO USER "null"

///PURGING... DONE

: \ ] exit

///EXITING IMPERIAL ARCHIVES - THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATRONAGE

///IMPERIAL RECORDS DATABASE

///ENTER CLIENT AUTHORIZATION

: \ ]

///VERIFYING... GRANTED

///ENTER QUERY PARAMETERS

: \ ]security surveillance; station constable quarters; 1513 local; transcribe; text only

///PLEASE WAIT...

///BEGIN TRANSCRIPTION

[Constable Jerif P. Watkins]: Commander, be smarter than this.

[Cmdr. alias "Cynic"]: I'm not being smart. I'm being emotional.

[Watkins]: You just pulled a gun on an Imperial officer. What do you think to accomplish here?

[Cynic]: I'm hoping to accomplish getting answers to my questions. As it's going right now, I guarantee the only thing that will happen is this blaster will open a hole in your stomach wide enough for me to grab your spine without getting wet.

[Watkins]: You wouldn't.

[Cynic]: Wouldn't I? Locals told me they saw them go to the station house. One of your subordinates said you called in and told them to come to your quarters. They aren't in here, so, where did they go?

[Watkins]: I'm sure I don't know what you're talking abou- AGH! FUCK!

[Cynic]: That was setting 1 on stun. Setting 2 will make you sterile. Don't know what the higher settings do.

[Watkins]: Fuck. FUCK!

[Cynic]: Where are they? Answer and you may still be able to. What's this? Is that... oh you fucker.

[Watkins]: NNFFF!

[Cynic]: You know what I love about you pirates? Always storing your trophies and flags where they can be easily found. Where did you send them?

[Watkins]: Go fuck yourse- AGH! Oh CHRIST!

[Cynic]: I'm done fucking around with stun. It's only a hand. Plenty of prosthetics can fix that. Don't make me ask again.

[Silence]

[Watkins]: AH! Fuh-hu-huck...

[Cynic]: Last chance Constable.

[Watkins]: I told them to wait in some spare quarters I keep for guests. Brotherhood picked them up an hour later and left.

[Cynic]: Their ship have a name?

[Watkins]: They'll fucking kill me, man OW! AGH!

[Cynic]: Worry about me, fuckface. The SHIP.

[Watkins]: Alright, alright! Pistol Derby. The ship's called the Pistol Derby.

[Cynic]: There, was that so hard?

[Watkins]: Oh god. Please. Please don't!

///END TRANSCRIPTION

///AFTER ACTION REPORT:

Watkins, Jerif P.; Constable, McCrea Gateway

Status: Dead

Cause: Multiple laser pistol shots to arms, legs, groin and chest

No missing items found among Constable Watkins belongings. Various pirate paraphernalia scattered across victim's remains.

///ISSUE WARRANT FOR CMDR. ALIAS "CYNIC"'S ARREST?

: \ ] no

: \ ] exit

///EXITING IMPERIAL RECORDS DATABASE

///TRACKING REQUEST SUBMITTED TO PRISMATIC IMPERIUM SECURITY HQ - SAROS CALAMITY, KRAIT Mk. II; PISTOL DERBY, UNKNOWN

///BEGIN ANSIBLE TRANSMISSION...

///LOADING INTERFACE... OK

///READY FOR CONTENT

There was absolutely one, and only one, reason I would rush back to the Bubble, I told myself. The likelihood of that happening was a million to one. A zillion to one. Impossible.

I've covered nearly 10,000 light years in one day. I haven't slept. When I received the message over ansible it was already two days old. Two. For all I know they could all be dead.

Those of you who have been around know what it means to be blood bound. Those of you who have earned your Elite wings know what it is keep your word and your honor. The strength and drive required for such feats. Apply them to your debts.

The one debt in the universe that cannot be paid up front is one of blood. The debt is either assigned, or given. The one that came calling? I gave it. And my balance just came due.

This is the farthest-jumping ship I own. I've been feeding her materials for greater range and hitting every neutron star I can. I've refilled my AFM twice. My FSD is degrading faster and faster with each repair. Heat shielding is pretty much gone. The hull's starting to creak and groan flashing in and out of witch space.

Named this ship after my old dog. Most loyal, steadfast animal I've ever known. Don't let me down now, girl. Don't let me down.

///END CONTENT

///ENCRYPTING... DONE

///TRANSMITTING... DONE

///END ANSIBLE TRANSMISSION

///INCOMING ANSIBLE TRANSMISSION

///ENTER AUTHORIZATION CODE

\:] ****

///AUTHORIZATION CONFIRMED

///MESSAGE PARSED AUDIO ONLY

///WARNING: CORRUPTION DETECTED IN AUDIO FILE

///TRANSCRIBE?

\:] yes

///BEGIN TRANSCRIPTION

[Unknown Sender]: [Static]...nic. It's me! Looper! I know you're out there. If you receive thi- [static]

[Inaudible]

[Unknown Sender]: [Static]...serious shit right now. Need [static] ...ur ass to Keliuona. McCrea Gateway. They... they killed Lynn. [static] ...orporate expansion program.

[Unknown Sender, Secondary]: Daddy? Who're yo...[static]

///MESSAGE PARSED CORRUPTED

///PLAYBACK?

\:] no

///EMERGENCY FSD STOP DETECTED

///END ANSIBLE TRANSMISSION

///BEGIN ANSIBLE TRANSMISSION...

///LOADING INTERFACE... OK

///READY FOR CONTENT

Going to try and punch this out even though every letter on the screen feels like it's burning my eyes from the inside out.

Holloway Biology Center in Colonia. There's a doc there who crossbred Fuji apples with some form of algae he found out in Hawking's Gap. Turned them blue, gave them extremely powerful psychogenic and hallucinogenic chemistry. He makes a triple bonded blue apple brandy out of them. Did him a few favors and got three bottles as payment.

Do. Not. Drink. The whole. Bottle. In. One. Night.

My brain feels like it's crawling out of my ears. My tongue is so swollen I can barely drink water. Every source of light is agony.

10/10. Totally worth it. What a fucking night.

///END CONTENT

///ENCRYPTING... DONE

///TRANSMITTING... DONE

///END ANSIBLE TRANSMISSION

///BEGIN ANSIBLE TRANSMISSION...

///LOADING INTERFACE... OK

///READY FOR CONTENT

Minor, ahem, computer problem yesterday. Nothing a little percussive maintenance and sheer panic couldn't overcome. Word to the wise or anyone looking for target practice - Khaleen Desmond on Levi-Montalcini Gateway in Timbalderis is selling holo-movies with ship-bagging viruses hidden in them.

Fucking pirates.

I have half a mind to go back to the bubble myself and scatter his atoms over the system. After feeding him his testicles, of course.

But, had a good scan run. Found a system with several potentials for terraforming. Eased my mood. So the bubble will be minus one rage-filled human for the time being.

Now I'm staring down a system with 30 bodies to scan. Think I'm going to park and do this tomorrow. I'm exhausted. Haven't even changed out of my emergency utes. Christ I need a shower. And a drink.

///END CONTENT

///ENCRYPTING... DONE

///TRANSMITTING... DONE

///END ANSIBLE TRANSMISSION

///BEGIN ANSIBLE TRANSMISSION...

///LOADING INTERFACE... ERROR

///EMERGENCY AUDIO TRANSCRIPTION... ENABLED

Human, Ident Match Error: "Fuck... ...iece... computer..."

[Unidentified collision sounds]

Human, Ident Match Error: "Get in there [inaudible]"

[Unidentified collision sounds]

///SYSTEM REBOOT DETECTED

///SAVING EMERGENCY AUDIO TRANSCRIPTION... DONE

///ENCRYPTING... EMERGENCY BYPASS

///TRANSMITTING... DONE

///END ANSIBLE TRANSMISSION