LHS 1197 - ICE RINGS, PLANET A1A

Armand "Cyrano" Veillon sat staring at the communications screen from the cockpit of the Imperial Clipper Jewelled Blade. He hated the name. Snobbish Imperial bullshit. First thing he was going to do when Cynic's head was on a spike was repaint the thing and rename it to something else. Maybe Pistol Derby II. He'd spent a week coming up with the name for that ship and had been furious when he was forced to destroy it in the docking ring of Leonard Nimoy.

His chin rested on folded hands with his elbows propped up on his knees. Occasionally he'd pick at his long, scraggly beard.

"Any news," Genie called from behind him.

"No," he grumbled. "Angivale said he'd call us the moment Cynic was in place."

The Jewelled Blade, freshly crisp and gleaming white from the factory not a few weeks before, had latched onto one of the billions of ice-roids in the ring around the planet. There it waited, quietly floating along with 32 other ships on their own ice-roids. Cyrano was surprised at the breadth of ship types present. Kraits. Pythons. Fer-de-Lances. Anacondas. Mambas. Even smaller Couriers and Eagles, the latter mostly comprised of their Imperial variants.

They had all arrived in the span of a day and had sent him the affirmation codes the Legate said they should. All that was left was word from the Legate and they would all jump into Shangdi and attack Cynic at al-Din Platform.

The Legate said to "chase" him away. Whatever the fuck that meant. He knew Cynic's type. He would fight as long as he could before he had to run. Cyrano was counting on it.

The patch that covered the hole where his nose used to be itched terribly and he gingerly rubbed his palm on it. Blood came away on his hand and he snarled.

The orange glow of the comm screen brightened.

///INCOMING MESSAGE

Genie was out of her chair at the sound of the message beep, looking over Cyrano's shoulder as the message came through.

///MESSAGE TEXT: Target on site. Free to engage. Respond with sitrep after.

///END MESSAGE

"Yes," Genie hissed. She flew into the secondary command chair beside him and buckled in.

Cyrano flipped the comms over to the designated channel for the task force. "It's time. You all know what to do."

From his cockpit he saw the engine blooms of a dozen ships reflect off their icy, temporary landing pads. He had the Jewelled Blade off his ice-roid, engines screaming as he headed away from the gravity well of the ring. That Centurion lady had the ship outfitted quite nicely, and she had made her FAST. He boosted the ship out in front of the pack, heading for the nav point.

Once the mass-lock indicator went away, he hit the FSD switch and listened to the drive charge up. He'd been eager to catch up with Cynic. And now that he was going to collect on that asshole's debts, he couldn't help keep a wide smile from growing on his face.

The Jewelled Blade's COVAS counted down, and the tunnel vision of nebulae and stars banged into the viewscreen.

"We're gonna fuck him up," Genie said.

Cyrano didn't say a thing. Only continuing to smile that wolfish smile all the way through the jump.

SHANGDI - SHIPPING LANES

I was trying not to feel anxious as I supercruised towards al-Din. Shangdi was pretty quiet. The nav beacon wasn't very busy at all when I jumped in. My Viper Mk. IV, the Demon Pegasus, made for a quick alignment to the platform. The small fighter is the toughest of my smaller ships. Engineered to the absolute max and brimming with all the high-end bits from various factions that I've joined and left in my career.

Prismatic shields, fully upgraded and able to stop the onslaught of an entire squadron before losing power. Reactive surface composite armor for when they failed. An Imperial Hammer for when I needed to do some shield-stripping of my own. A Retributor beam laser that caused targets to overheat and disintegrate rather quickly (and satisfyingly). An Enforcer multi-cannon that could hammer away at physical defenses. And a Pack-Hound missile rack, because fuck you with dozens of missiles up your ass all at once.

I had to REALLY finagle the bejeezus out of the engineers to get it all to work with the limited powerplant the small fighter could fit. Todd McQuinn gave me an approving nod when I was first doing my rounds to each of the engineers and their specialties. Hera Tani, however, told me I was going to overheat and blow myself to pieces. I told her that I would be careful, and that I would not die by making the ship combust. I'd cook myself alive in the cockpit LONG before the ship exploded.

I've used the Pegasus to down Corvettes, Type-10s and Anacondas without breaking a sweat. But the letter from Max had let me know that this was 100% a trap. There would be trouble waiting for me at al-Din and that I, not Carlotta, was to make the pickup if we wanted the data. Considering everything that's happened in the past few weeks, I think I'm allowed a little bit of anxiety regarding the situation.

I throttled down for the approach to al-Din, watching the light-seconds tick down to megameters, and then to kilometers. The approach light came on and I disengaged supercruise.

al-Din Platform banged into view. Platforms always looked like a bunch of giant boxes and containers slapped together with scaffolding. There were no signs of ships in or around the station, and nothing on the radar. When I was close enough, I flipped over the comms to their channel.

"Control, this is flight Delta-Papa dash Tango-Three-Hotel, requesting permission to land."

"Roger Tango-Three-Hotel. Permission granted to land on pad zero-three."

"Thank you, control."

The fast Viper ate up the distance quickly and I was gliding onto the landing pad in seconds. The landing gear groaned as it deployed underneath me, and the clunk of the pad and its docking clamps sounded as I connected. The pad began retracting into the station and I unbuckled myself from the chair.

"Here we go," I said to myself, and headed to the aft ramp of the fighter.

Cyrano was salivating as the Jewelled Blade exited witch space in Shangdi. He heard the boom of the other ships as they exited right behind him. The nav beacon whizzed by as he brutishly aimed the Clipper at al-Din Platform and pushed the throttle as far as it would go.

"Pips to shields and weapons, Genie."

"Done, boss."

He hit the button on the side of the throttle to engage supercruise. al-Din's distance ticked down rapidly. His leg was shaking with anticipation. He gripped the controls tight. He noticed Genie leaning forward in her chair, willing the ship to go faster towards their prey.

He wasn't paying attention to the radar at all. Didn't notice a 33rd blip join the thick group of blips that was the task force he was in charge of.

I sat waiting, feet up on a table and thumbs twiddling, surrounded by a sleepy set of shops that was the intersection of all the landing platforms of al-Din. Carlotta chose this station, in this system, because it was low-population and independent from the Alliance or the Federation. She was concerned with civilian casualties.

I half-agreed with her. But the other half of me would've preferred a huge, busy, overcrowded space port in either governments reach in which hiding in plain sight was far easier and emergency response units closely monitored the entire system for trouble.

I maintain she won the argument only because I didn't want to lose my shit in front of Elly.

I sighed and sat up just as a familiar face exited one of the landing pad elevators. Cleanly shaved, Max Kader had put on a few pounds since last I saw him. He strolled right up to my table.

"Looks like you got my packet," he said, pulling up a chair. "Not exactly secretive, Cynic.

"Wasn't my first choice."

"I have to ask - is that friend of yours on the level?"

"Yeah. Don't worry. I trust her." I had my hands on my thighs below the table, just in case I needed to reach my pistol. I wasn't 100% sure on Max, as he had his own little mini-empire within the Empire that motivated his thoughts and actions.

"Good." He pulled a data slip out of his pocket and slid it across the table.

I caught it and quickly pocketed it. "Thanks."

"You're welcome. We square?"

"We're square."

"Until next, then."

"Until next."

He nodded and stood. I stood with him.

"Cynic," he said.

"Mm?"

"Good luck. For both our sakes." He turned and walked towards a different elevator from the one he came in. Crafty little rat. He had a different ship to leave by just sitting here waiting for him. Knew there was a reason I liked him.

I hurried to the elevator for my pad. The thing droned as it moved away from the center hub and it seemed to take forever. I nervously tapped the side of my pistol holster until the doors opened. The Viper sat just as I left it.

I hurried up the ramp and strapped myself into the captain's chair as fast as I could. The ramp was still locking into place when I gave the console commands to raise the ship to the surface. The elevator began to move.

"Control, this is Tango-Three-Hotel flight, requesting permission to depart."

The docking clamps released. "Permission granted. Safe journeys."

I raised the gear and slammed the throttle forward, barely clearing the railing at the end of the pad. Just as the gravity from the station let go of the ship, I heard the telltale pop of an FSD drive disengaging.

I looked up to see an Imperial Clipper bearing down on me from above. I could see the hardpoint doors opening on the gleaming white ship, and I thumbed the control to open the hardpoints on mine.

All of the weapons clunked heavily into place from their housings, with only me and the twitch of my trigger finger between their silence and righteous fire.

"Alright. Let's dance."

The Viper deployed hardpoints and its engines lit up as it screamed below the Clipper's viewport. Cyrano yanked the flight stick to follow and hit his own booster. The Clipper had 200mps on the Viper's top speed and caught up quickly. He flipped the comms over to the Viper.

"You can run, Cynic. But you can't hide."

The Viper flipped in front of them and careened past them, making both he and Genie duck out of instinct. The sound of the little ship's engines roared through the cabin as the Clipper shuddered as he passed. Only a few feet of space and mere inches of steel and ceramic separated them from collision.

"I know that voice. Nosey? Is that you?"

"That's Cyrano to you," Cyrano snarled. "And I've come for you. OPEN FIRE!"

Genie, controlling the turrets on board the ship, let loose from the top hardpoints. Twin beam lasers reached out and connected with the Viper as the two ships tried to out turn each other. The Viper only had a slight advantage of maneuverability, but just as he suspected, Cynic had engineered it to do better. It easily got behind them and the triple-staccato slam of rail gun shook Cyrano in his seat.

COVAS reported the impacts along with a warning of heat building up. The BRRRRT and THOOM reports of their own multi-cannon and cannon firing followed now that all four turrets could align with the Viper.

"God fucking dammit he's quick," Genie screamed. "I can only hit him with the beams. He's too quick for the cannons."

Cyrano hit the boost and disabled the flight assist, allowing the ship to drift faster than the Viper could follow and flip completely around. This forced the Viper into a straight line of sight for the weapons. Their cannon and laser fire obscured the HUD mark of Cynic's ship. Cyrano looked at the enemy ship readout and watched as impact blooms lit up all over the smaller fighter. Cynic's first ring of shields was still glowing, but fading under fire.

Alarm klaxons sounded and COVAS reported, "Incoming missile attack."

The point defenses activated, firing green tracer at the dozens of missiles now heading for them. Cyrano hit the boost, knowing that the defense turrets would be overwhelmed by the sheer amount. The cabin rocked with each POOM of a missile slamming against their shields.

Speaking of - they were down to their last ring. Cyrano flipped the hardpoint select over to the shield cell banks and the heat sink and fired. The shields whined around them as they recharged, the heat buildup being taken and then jettisoned by the heat sink.

"Where the fuck are the others," Genie asked. "Where's the task force?"

That's when Cyrano realized none of the other ships in the task force were there. It was just them and the little Viper Mk. IV battering away at their shields.

"TRAITORS," he raged at the top of his lungs. His arms flexing, the controls creaking under his angry grip. He juked the controls as much as he could, trying to avoid Cynic's fire. "Call our backup."

"But the Legate said not to unless absolutely-"

"DO IT!"

Genie sent the message.

The Imperial Clipper was much faster than I expected, and almost as maneuverable as I was. My hands and feet were in constant motion, keeping the sights on the large ship as best I could. Cyrano was a good pilot - but not great. My shields were holding against the ceaseless cannon and laser fire pounding into me. I dodged what I could, but I had to put all my effort into aiming true and pummeling the life out of their shielding. It was weaker than mine, for sure, but he had more utility spaces for shield cells and heat sinks.

Just as I thought it, the telltale rings of rapid shield recharge pulsed around the ship. KLOOM-KLOOM-KLOOM. The Imperial Hammer sent three rapid fire projectiles slamming into the left wing of the Clipper at the speed of light. The ship rocked as the vaporized remains of the projectiles plumed against its shields. I kept the laser burning against them, the methodic TUN-TUN-TUN-TUN of the multi-cannon accompanying it. His shielding was almost stripped again.

"Massive frame-shift signature detected," COVAS reported.

Before I could react, my ship was tossed and sent tumbling about. I folded my arms against my chest as the ship tried to scramble me like an egg. The inertial compensators groaned, unable to cope with the sheer g-forces of the tumble.

When the ship finally regained its footing, I clasped the controls and flipped the Pegasus over.

"Warning: Capital-class signature detected," COVAS reported again.

The gleaming white, spear-like tip of an Imperial Interdictor slowly emerged from the frothy black smoke of its frame shift jump. Electricity danced off its hull as the entirety of the giant ship revealed itself right in front of me. al-Din platform was a tiny spec against it.

There are few things more terrifying than facing down an Imperial warship. Nigh-impenetrable shielding and armor, bristling with giant versions of the weapons we flyers haul around on our own ships. There were only two things they feared in the universe - other warships, and Thargoids.

But thanks to a little intel and insider influence from Max, I was not unprepared to give them a third reason.

"YOU'RE MINE, CYNIC!" Cyrano screamed at me over the comms before I had a chance to flip the channel. Easily rectified.

"Carlotta?"

"Yes, Cynic?"

"Show time."

Cyrano laughed and stomped his feet as the IWS Glory's Hammer formed out of her jump.

"YOU'RE FUCKED, CYNIC! I WILL CUT YOUR HEAD OFF AND FUCK YOUR GODDAMN THROAT!"

Genie sent the friendly ID codes over to the Hammer, making sure its many, many guns didn't aim at them. Their Clipper hovered above and off the starboard side of the enormous vessel, looking over the Hammer, al-Din and the distant spec that was Cynic's Viper.

Flashes of light appeared off the port bow of the Glory's Hammer, and the telltale streams of exhaust trails indicated dozens of smaller ships exiting supercruise.

"It's the task force!"

"What," Cyrano growled. He watched the ships as they formed up for a pass that would take them directly over the length of the warship. Something wasn't right. Did the task force have a Corvette in it?

Explosions bloomed across the top surface of the warship as the task force opened fire. Turrets, heat exchangers, comm arrays, all the weak spots on the warship were being systematically destroyed.

"Why aren't they firing back? FIRE BACK YOU IDIOTS!" Cyrano bellowed and slammed his fists into the chair.

Genie sank into her own. "They had the friendly transponder codes. . ."

"RAAAAAGH!"

The comm channel hissed. "Naughty, naughty, Nosey," Cynic's voice came over his headset. "No fair bringing a warship into this. That's cheating."

Cyrano roared and slammed the throttle forward. The Jewelled Blade rocketed towards Cynic's Viper.

"Is it me or does that ship look pissed?"

"Wrapped in mild dislike, I'd say," Carlotta replied.

Cynic laughed. "You good?"

"We've got this. Their own safety systems are still reading us as friendly."

"Alright. I'll finish off Cyrano." I hit the boosters and the Viper flung itself across space towards the approaching Clipper.

"Give him a few missiles for me," Carlotta said.

"Happily."

Cyrano and I closed at frightening speed, both of us at full boost. When they were in range, I squeezed the trigger just as laser and cannon fire began striking my shields. My own ship shook as it released its deadly volleys into the nose of Cyrano's Clipper. Shield strikes became blinding. I juked just in time as his ship nearly collided with mine, my cockpit rattling as they passed.

Shields down to 50%. His were gone. I knew he had more cell banks but it was too late - they don't work on completely failed shielding. I flipped the Viper around, engines protesting the extreme change as loudly as they could. Cyrano was trying to turn and face me, presenting a clear profile of their ship from the top. Their gunner defiantly kept their beam weapons focused on me.

I squeezed the trigger. Laser and cannon fire raked them from their cockpit to the engine cowlings in the rear of the main fuselage. Another hard turn, and I was directly behind them. The Imperial Hammer charged, then loosed. KLOOM-KLOOM-KLOOM. One of the shots connected with the right engine nacelle in a flash of sparks. The Clipper was sent into a spin.

It was over.

The first volley of missiles I used before didn't do much because of the Clipper's shields. Without shields, 24 missiles dug into the armor of the ship and exploded, sending glowing chunks flying in every direction. The debris clanged against my hull as I passed through it. The entire rear of their ship was on fire, streams of leaking gasses and liquids freezing in the vacuum.

Another volley of missiles tore into the left wing, stripping it of its confines and sending it, engine at full blast, out into the void. I pumped three more rail gun blasts into the fuselage, the rounds passing straight through it like hot needles through butter. Then another volley of Pack-Hounds.

The missiles exploded after flashing hits against the Clipper. A blinding burst of light ripped the remains of the ship to pieces as their powerplant and FSD ignited. Small, smoking bits of ship continued their path out into space in an expanding cone from the flashpoint.

I flipped the Pegasus around to see a lightning flash in space and the Imperial Interdictor being engulfed by their frame shift wake.

"Carlotta?"

"WOO! She's retreating!"

"All that and not a shot fired in anger."

"Legate Angivale will be QUITE irate." The joy in her voice was infectious. I enjoyed a laugh with her as the Imperial warship crept into the inky blackness of witch space. When it was finally gone, I flipped the comms over to the task force channel.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Cynic. Thank you. I am in your debt."

The 'ayes' and 'no problems' and 'fuck yeah that was funs' came over the radio all at once.

"All pilots, break for your ports of call. Thank you again, and godspeed."

The task force broke apart, the ships started jumping away in all directions from al-Din Platform. Which, amazingly, suffered exactly zero damage in that fiasco.

I formed up with Carlotta as she pointed her Corvette towards Andhrimi. She was flying the Soloton Yamato, white paint and blue stripes adorning her dorsal side.

"See you back at Big Pappa's, commander?" That accent of hers was the brightest I'd ever heard it.

"See you back there."

I relaxed as COVAS counted down and the FSD engaged into witch space. I pulled the data slip out of my pocket, squeezing it in my fist and pocketing it once more.

Max had turned the tide for us. I swore that I would send him the finest alcohol and snack baskets I could find once I landed. Once a month for the rest of my life, if I could. I had doubted him, and he had come through without fail.

Cyrano and Genie were dead. We got the dirt we wanted on the Legate and the Senator he's working with. Defeated an Imperial Interdictor without inflicting harm on her crew. Oh, and no civilian casualties.

Mission fucking accomplished.

PRISMATIC IMPERIUM, SECURITY LEGION HQ, CUBEO

Legate Harishaw Angivale sat in the opulent chair behind his desk, staring at the bottle of vodka with maybe a glass or two left in it. The grey around his vision made him blink in a futile attempt to focus. He crooked his neck, gave the bottle a raspberry, grabbed it and downed the rest.

He let the empty bottle roll out of his hands onto the floor. It joined the rest of the trash scattered every which way across his office. Papers and docu-disks and data pads, all torn up or cracked or otherwise destroyed. The wreck of his place of work, his life's work, in shambles just like his career.

The wood pillars lining the office with gold filigree spiraling up them. The marble shelving. The glass roof that flowed into windows looking out across the bay. He stumbled around his massive redwood desk and fell to the floor. He laughed.

It was all worthless now.

He was still laughing when the door to his office opened. A man in an Imperial Senator's uniform stepped in, locking the door as it shut behind him.

"Shenator Hewitt! Have to shay, I'm shurprised you'd come here yourshelf."

The shots made muted PWACKS that would never leave the fortified office. Angivale felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He trembled, looking down, a shaking hand touched one of the three holes in his belly and chest. Blood spilled out over cooked flesh. He could see his diaphragm shuddering amongst the fried meat.

He let out a giggle, and slumped over.

ANDHRIMI, BIG PAPPA'S BASE

It was very late by the time we touched down at Big Pappa's. I was out of my Viper Mk. IV by the time Carlotta was making her way down the ramp of my Corvette.

"Not a bad bit of flying there, Hux," I said.

She smiled dangerously. "I'm in a very good mood and I'm going to let that nickname slide. You get the data?"

I patted my pocket. "Right here."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Remind me to send Max some flowers or something. His help was brilliant."

"The thought's already crossed my mind." We started heading towards the Romeo Eclipse, but I wasn't tired. I stopped walking.

"Something the matter?"

"I dunno, I'm feeling rather. . . celebratory. Want to get a drink?"

She tilted her head and raised a suspicious eyebrow at me.

I held up my hand, placing the other across my chest. "I promise my intentions are completely innocent. Our mission was a resounding success and it just doesn't feel right not honoring the victory with a minor celebration."

Carlotta straightened but kept her suspicious eyebrow up at me. "Alright, flyboy. What'd you have in mind? All of the bars are closed this late. Or should I say this early?"

"Hmmm. . . that's a very good point." I scratched my head at the conundrum, but then I remembered something and snapped my fingers. "I know just the thing. Follow me."

I led her over to the last of the ships I stowed here at Big Pappa's - the Sasha Nova. I introduced the ship to Carlotta as the Anaconda's ramp lowered.

"You have way too many ships. What's this one? Unmarked pirate? Miner? Smuggler? Love boat?"

"Nothing so prestigious," I jested back. "She's my latest and greatest exploration vessel."

She followed me up the ramp. She whistled as we went through the corridors up to the bridge.

"This looks positively domestic, Cynic. Your ships are usually so spartan."

"Well, when I took off for Colonia, I didn't think I was coming back, so I made it as homey as possible."

"Colonia? You've been out that far?"

We got to the bridge, and I gestured to the table in the back corner of it. It had a cushioned bench that Carlotta made herself comfortable at.

"Yeah, furthest I've been. I was in the middle of breaking that furthest record of mine when I got the ansible message from Looper. Ah, there it is." I pulled one of the blue apple brandy bottles from under the galley counter. I began stumbling around for glasses. A bit embarrassed at the utter bachelor-pad I had led my guest into.

"That sounds adventurous. Furthest I've been was tracking you and that pirate mongrel to Witch Head."

"Really?" I found two clean, mismatched glasses and brought them over with the bottle. "Well, now that you're technically a free agent, thought about what you're going to do when you get tired of hanging around me."

She rolled her eyes. "No, I guess I haven't. What is this swill you are pouring me?"

"There's a brand new science station out in Colonia. One of the researchers there was experimenting around and made a hybrid breed of apples that he makes this brandy out of."

"It's blue."

"And delicious." I finished pouring half glasses for us and put the bottle back under the counter.

She looked at me questioningly. "Celebratory with half a glass?"

I sat down across from her, grabbed my glass and held it up. "Trust me. Sip. Do not gulp."

Glasses tinked and we both sipped. We both winced and blew 'PHEW' at each other.

"Oh, lord, you were not joking," she said.

"Marvelous, isn't it?"

"Heinous."

"Here's to off-world hooch."

Another tink, another sip between us, no wincing this time.

"OK, the first sip was terrible but the second sip was quite lovely."

"It gets better. Just, let it catch up to you for a bit." I set my glass down. The alcohol/hallucinogen/psychotropic began working its magic. I closed my eyes and let my head lull back as every muscle relaxed in my body.

When I looked back at Carlotta, she was recovering from the same thing.

"Wow."

"Yeah."

"So tell me," she said, the drink already making her cheeks flush, "How long have you known your friend Michael?"

"Oh, man. We met back in high school. Just a pair of misfits. Some twenty-odd years ago now. Christ."

"And why do you call him Looper?"

"OH!" I laughed. "Well, we both took the long way to the pilots chair. Civilian pathway, no military between us. In training, whenever we approached a station, he would misjudge the throttle and overshoot the station. Every. Single. Time."

"Ah, the Loop of Shame."

"EXACTLY! Anyway, he did that all the way up until his check ride. That's how he earned the Looper moniker. It stuck with him."

"And I think I can figure out why they call you Cynic."

I waved my arms open in a 'that's me' gesture.

We took another sip together. The drink was really starting to get to us. We were leaning more and more heavily on the table.

"What's your real name?"

"Hm," I said.

"Your real name. Everyone calls you by your callsign. Never your name. Even your Pilot's Federation record has it zeroed."

I lazily swirled the blue brandy in my glass, thinking about how I wanted to respond to that.

"Tell you what," I said. "If we're both still awake by the end of our respective glasses, I will tell you my real name. As for why I don't go by it - well. . . let's just say my heritage isn't a source of pride for me."

"They have this thing where you can have your name legally changed, you know."

"Eh, a legal name's just that. A name. A number. Some data that gets put in some computer some where that they can track you with until the day you die.

A callsign, however, is a person. It's earned. A mark of you who you are but only really figured out when you've nailed a personality down to a few syllables."

We both laughed.

"OK. That sounded horrible, but the sentiment is there. Speaking of," I said, straightening. Carlotta straightened with me. "Why don't YOU have a callsign?"

"I don't have a pilots license."

"Bullshit."

"Got my grading through the Imperial Academy. Never once got certified. My work didn't really focus on flying, after all."

Uncomfortable silence. She took another sip. I followed.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to-"

She shook her head. "You didn't know."

We still had half a glass to go, I was positively buzzed and had managed to kill the jovial mood.

"So," she said, trying to recover, "I can see there's more than just alcohol in this glass here."

"It's a mild hallucinogen and psychotropic."

Her eyes went wide at me.

"VERY MILD! That's why I say one glass, take it slow, and just enjoy the ride."

"Why? What happens if we drink more than just a half-glass?"

"This magical thing happens - the brandy," I said, holding up my drink, "Transforms into 100% distilled regret."

Carlotta laughed, scrunching her face in incredulity at me.

"Oh and you'll trip balls so hard you'll see sounds and smell colors and wake up after the ride of your life with a headache that makes you scream for the sweet release of death."

We both laughed stupid.

"You are so full of shit, you are," she said.

We laughed so hard we almost forgot we had drinks. My sides were splitting, tears running down my face. Carlotta was the same. We fought to control ourselves, and finally stopped laughing enough to catch our breath.

"Seriously, though. What are you going to do now that you're free of the Empire?"

"I'm really not sure. But you've given me a few ideas you bloody pirate."

Our eyes locked and we smiled at each other. She broke her gaze and nodded her head towards the first door in the hallway leading out of the bridge.

"That where the bed is?"

"Um," I said, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah? Why?"

She downed the rest of her glass and got up. She lilted as she walked, grabbing the railing that allowed her to make it safely to the door to my quarters.

"Care to make some regret without the bottle?"

She let her flight jacket pool on the floor and was unbuttoning the shirt underneath as she disappeared into the room. I gulped the rest of my brandy and stumbled my way after her.

The painite runs were many, but with 200 tons not fetching more than about 90 million a pop, it about evened out to what I'd make agonizing over fracking low temperature diamonds or void opals. Elly had a blast (again, ha) and got to connect with her despondent father over the past few days.

We arrived late in the evening at our last stop - Leonard Nimoy Station. Landing the Golden Goose, I received an invitation from the station commander. You know - the one I had a working relationship with?

Commander Bennet Graham. Grammy-poo is what I would call him to get under his skin. Elly and Looper went to go grab dinner while I headed to the commander's office. I hadn't spoken to him since before the incident in the dock. I figured this was going to be the dressing down I rightly deserved for making a fuck up of things.

I pressed the button beside his office door, hearing the stale chimes from within.

"Come on in." Came Graham's voice over the intercomm.

The door slid open and I stepped through. Lean character, him. A diet of veggies and cigarettes will do that to you. I knew better than to cross him - I've seen him lay a man out with a single swipe of his back hand. Smart, crisp Alliance uniform or not.

"Cynic. Thanks for coming by on such short notice." He rose from his chair, walking around the desk to lean-sit on the front edge.

"Was expecting to get an invite, though not in such a polite manner. There's something different in here..."

"Yes. The fresh flowers."

"You're not smoking like a chimney!"

"Correct. Husband couldn't stand it anymore."

"How is Issac?"

"Good. At home watching the twins. Please, sit down."

I took the chair in front of his desk. Chair, pfft. It was a throne to comfort and hedonism. I sank into it and the nano-fibers stiffened in all the right places. I groaned as my back cried out in relief.

"Problem with your back," he asked.

"Nah, just been sleeping in the pilots chair for two days. Look, I need to apologize for what happened in the dock."

"Yes. I was a bit surprised that it was you who came up on the warrant when I was informed of the incident. The dock is back to order, by the way. Thank you for your contribution to that effort."

"Least I could do."

"But that's not why I asked you here."

"Uh oh."

"Stop it." He reached around to his desk and handed me a document folder with a bio latch marking it. The Imperial Seal was prominently displayed over the folder.

"What's this?"

"You tell me. Courier came by and dropped it for you. Official diplomatic channels, no less. I gave it all the pomp and circumstances as demanded by Alliance Code of Conduct. Would you like a drink?"

"What you got," I asked, thumbing the bio pad latch.

"Plain ol' whiskey. Good stuff from Aulin."

"I'll give it a try."

"Thought you would."

While he grabbed a decanter from behind his desk, the doc folder popped open and a single sheet of paper dispensed from it. I grabbed it, setting the folder down on his desk.

"Who's it from?"

"Max Kader."

"Who?"

"You wouldn't know him. Director of Prismatic Imperium Interstellar Factors."

"Sounds like someone I SHOULD know."

"I'll introduce you." After reading the paper, I tried to nonchalantly place it back in the folder and seal it back up. Bennet had poured two glasses and was now over me, handing me one of them. I took it, and we both tinked the glasses together.

"Anything I should be concerned with," he asked, taking a sip.

"Hopefully not." I took a sip. The alcohol burned and then cooled instantly, making the sweet maple notes sing on my tongue. "Oh my. Oh MY."

"Right? Not a very expensive brand, but it's got some serious zing."

"There a place I can buy it here on station?"

"I've got a few bottles in my closet. You can have one."

". . . that sounds like a bribe."

"It is," he said, taking another sip. "That's official Imperial correspondence. Addressed to you. Usually I would need to declare something like that to my superiors as we are technically not on speaking terms with the Empire, at the moment."

"Ben - I've been through a few ordeals the past month. Believe me when I say, you don't want to know. I will tell you, however, that I will be off this station in the morning and I probably won't be returning for quite a long time. The things I'm dealing with now will not come to this station, if I can help it."

"I see. And I take it you would prefer if this correspondence never existed?"

"That would be. . . convenient"

He nodded in agreement.

I took out my cred pad and entered his number into it, transferring a million credits to his account.

"I thought you said it wasn't expensive whiskey," I said.

"Supply and demand. You demand. I supply." He set his glass down and went to the closet on the side of the room, emerging with the bottle of amber-colored liquid. I gulped down what was left of mine - godDAMN it was good - and stood to leave.

"Enjoy the bottle."

"I certainly will."

"I hope you won't mind my guards keeping an eye on you and your ship until morning. Gratis, of course."

"Of course. That would be prudent." I took the bottle with one hand and held out the other. Graham took it firmly and shook. What honest men do. "They're not going to watch me in my room, are they?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, just the outside door and from afar. You won't even notice them."

"Right. Take care, Ben. Say hi to Issac and the kids for me."

"I will, and you too."

I always liked working with Grammy-poo. Good man. He was wrong, though. I noticed his slack-jawed guards the moment I left his office.

I got back to the ship just as Looper and Elly did. Elly was fast asleep in Loopers arms, crooned over one shoulder and snoring softly. We gestured to each other and got the Golden Goose opened as quietly as we could. The damned ramp made enough noise to echo throughout the dock, but Elly remained soundly asleep.

I led them up the ramp, opening doors between us and Elly's room as quickly and quietly as possible. We made it, Looper laid her in the bunk, pulled the covers over her and kissed her goodnight on her temple. Mission accomplished.

"Man, she's OUT," I whispered.

"You've done a good job of tiring her out the past couple of days," he whispered back, shutting the door behind him. "That and I may have overdone it with dessert tonight."

"Ah, dairy coma."

"Indeed."

"What'd Benny want?"

I held up the diplomatic packet. "This."

"Trouble?"

"Definitely. But I'll need to get Carlotta on the line so we can all talk."

"Before that," Mike said, "Can we talk?"

I had a feeling I knew what this conversation was going to be about. "Yeah, Mike. What's going on?"

Mike took a breath. "I'm just going to be out with it. I assume this trouble you've got in your hand - it's going to require me to fly one of your ships?"

It was. "Preferably," I said. I knew that made it sound like having him as backup was the best option. Truth is I just wanted to give him the opportunity to come out with what he was going to say.

"I'm. . . Cynic, I'm not a flyer anymore. I mean, you saw me on the tele-fighters."

I stayed quiet.

"Truth is," he continued, "I don't want to be. I left that life. Shadow and I left it hard. Cold turkey. We wanted something different. Something where we weren't constantly risking our lives on some cargo run or bounty hunt or mining op. We got the chance, we took it, and against all odds. . . we got a kid. She's not here anymore, Cynic. Shadow can't help me, and I've all Elly's got."

I held up my hand. "Mike, I'm going to say this with all sincerity - you don't owe me a goddamn thing. We've known each other since we were kids. You're as close to blood as I've got." I took my own heavy sigh. "I know what you're about . Known since you and Lynn were just getting started. We both have our own paths. Our own destinies. Yours is in that room back there with that freakishly intelligent and beautiful little girl. Mine. . . well I'm living mine."

Mike gave me a small, relieved smile.

"Carlotta and I can handle this," I said. "You go be with Elly."

He shook his head. "I don't think I can ever repay you for all the help you've given us. Given me."

"What did I just get done saying?"

"Sorry. I had to say it. Clear my conscious."

I smiled at him and what started as a shoulder squeeze turned into a hug. We patted each other on the back.

"You know," he said, wiping his eyes for fear of tears. "For a cynical asshole you sure don't hide your heart of gold very well."

"I know. It's awful."

We both laughed.

"Go," I said.

"Yeah. Thanks again. Don't make too much noise, you two."

"Ha."

He disappeared into his room and closed the door.

I got into the cockpit of the Python and climbed into my chair. I got the comms up and routed them through the secure channels Bennet had set up for me. After a small donation, of course. The station's communications security was infinitely better than any ships, so routing through Leonard Nimoy allowed me to talk to anyone, anywhere with nearly complete safety.

The comm beeped exactly one time before Carlotta picked up. "Wasn't expecting you to call me so soon," her voice crisp and proper in my headset.

"Wasn't expecting to call. Did you get in contact with Max?"

"I did."

"And?"

"He was hesitant, but he looks to be making progress on my information request. Just how do you know all of these people?"

"A lifetime of poor decisions. Listen, Max just got a hold of me through a diplomatic packet."

"Ominous. But sounds exciting." I couldn't tell if that was sarcasm or excitement. I really need to work on getting her accent down.

"You back at BPS?"

"I am. That Viper of yours is a wonderful little ship."

"How are you with big ones?"

"I don't see how my private life is any of your concern."

"Big SHIPS, Carlotta."

"Oh, those." I didn't hear it, but I swear she snickered at that off comms. "Yes. I can fly anything as big and smaller than a Cutter."

"Great. Because we got trouble brewing and I'm going to need your help."

///LOADING IMPERIAL ARCHIVES

///PLEASE ENTER FILE TO DISPLAY

: \ ] cd \bin\hq\secops\legate

: \ ] livecast, legate's office, microphone 28

///WARNING: ACCESS RESTRICTED

: \ ]override auth "reindeer flotilla" -nodeny

///PROCESSING...

///ACCESS GRANTED TO USER "null"

///BEGINNING LIVECAST...

[Comm beep]

[Angivale]: Angivale.

[Unknown]: It's me.

[Angivale]: Hold.

\\COMM SCRAMBLE DETECTED

\\MICROPHONE [28] UNAVAILABLE

: \ ] switch -source camera 12

\\VIDEO UNAVAILABLE. LISTEN TO AUDIO?

: \ ] yes

\\SWITCHING

[Sen. Hewitt]: -ews, Legate. My contact in Torval's faction is on board.

[Angivale]: Good. And the data requests you've received?

[Sen. Hewitt]: No.

[Angivale]: Senator, please.

[Sen. Hewitt]: NO. Do you know what's in those files?

[Angivale]: We can't let up now. Not when we're so close.

[Sen. Hewitt]: To catching your former agent. Cynic is the target here.

[Angivale]: She's not going to be the one at the pick up. That weasel of a man, Kader, is going to see to that.

[Sen. Hewitt]: You have a very dirty house, Legate. All the more reason to not give this man what he wants.

[Angivale]: He's a weasel, but if he suspects that we're tying up or denying information, the game is up. He will contact Huxley and Cynic and inform them and then our loose end goes wild into the galaxy.

[Sen. Hewitt]: . . .This is far, far too dangerous. Even for you.

[Angivale]: What if I guaranteed the data will be destroyed at the drop?

[Sen. Hewitt]: What kind of a fool do you think I am? How in the world do you think you can contain this little slip of data when ENTIRE FLEETS have gone missing under your own fucking nose?

[Angivale]: Senator, I currently have a fleet of Aisling loyalists ready to pounce on Cynic once he's in Shangdi. Backing them up is a guarantee that is 2 kilometers long, armed with 14 railguns, 3 beam lasers, several squadrons of attack fighters, and manned with officers loyal to me.

[Sen. Hewitt]: . . . Legate. . .

[Angivale]: I am done fucking around with this matter, Senator. I will catch Cynic AND his friends, smash them to atoms, and you and I will live peacefully for the rest of our lives without a single goddamn thing hanging over our heads. Now, are you going to give Krader the information or not?

[Sen. Hewitt]: . . . You're insane, Harry.

[Angivale]: Answer the question, Dorian!

[Sen. Hewitt]: . . .

[Angivale]: . . .

[Sen. Hewitt]: . . . I'll have the information over to him in a day.

[Angivale]: THANK you.

[Sen. Hewitt]: Once this is ove-

[Comm cutoff]

[Angivale]: Fat, useless bureaucrat. Computer, get me the Jewelled Blade. Scramble and encrypt.

[Comm beep]

[Angivale]: . . .

[Comm beep]

[Unknown]: Yeah?

[Angivale]: Is the fleet ready?

[Unknown]: Is Cynic going to be there?

[Angivale]: Guaranteed.

[Unknown]: Then so will 32 of Aisling's finest.

[Angivale]: Good. The Hudson faction has allowed all of you safe passage through LHS 1197. Wait there for my signal, then attack.

[Unknown]: Will do.

[Angivale]: Cyrano, remember, DRIVE him out. Do NOT kill him. If things turn south, there are contingencies in place.

[Cyrano]: . . .What if I WANT them to 'go south'? Cynic's taken from me. And I want blood.

[Angivale]: Then your vendetta ends poorly for you. I have agents already watching every system within 100 light years of Shangdi. We will be tracking him very, very closely.

[Cyrano]: Grrrr. Fine. This better be worth it.

[Angivale]: It will be. For all of us.

\ ] end livecast

///LIVECAST ENDED

: \ ] exit

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

I like mining. It can be a bit boring (ha) and finding viable asteroids can be a bit of a pain, sometimes. But it's nice to slip the rubber band over the trigger, sit back, enjoy your drink and listen to tunes. John Denver came over the speakers. Forgot I had him in my music library.

♪Almost heaven, West Virginia

Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River

Life is old there, older than the trees

Younger than the mountains, growing like a breeze♪

I took a sip of my coffee and began whistling along with the chorus. To my right, Elly was concentrating on the asteroid in front of us. Twin purple lances were stripping painite from the rock face, and she was dancing the beams this way and that across the surface.

"Whatcha doin' there, kiddo?"

"Trying to see if pointing the beams in certain places makes the drilling more efficient."

Looper was in the back, watching the refinery readouts, making sure everything ran smoothly. Always did, regardless of human oversight, but he didn't seem to care.

"Thought you hated country," he said.

"It's John Denver. He's the Bob Ross of country music. He gets a pass."

"I like this song," Elly said. "And what played before?"

"Old Earth band called AC\DC."

"I like them, too."

"Asteroid depleted," COVAS reported.

I set my coffee down and took up the controls. Elly was really into the mining routine. She was in charge of the prospecting limpets and the mining lasers. When the lasers were done doing their work, and while we waited for the collectors to finish theirs, she would hop on to the prospector controller and fire away at an asteroid. If she deemed it worthy, that is.

She picked up on the pattern I was using, too. Don't go for the asteroids with long striations down the side. Go for the ones that look like popcorn kernels. Usually higher yield and of the right type of material. Didn't even have to describe it so much. She just picked up on it, asked if those were the ones to lay prospectors on.

Looper was happy that she was enjoying it. He sat back and sipped his mug and smiled as he shifted between watching her and watching his console.

"Cynic, I found something different."

"What'd you find?"

"Is that a core deposit?"

"Why, yes, it is. Nice job, Elly. You're in for a treat."

The collector limpets finished up and I glided the Golden Goose over to Elly's target asteroid. Up close you could see the veins of rich painite deposits.

"Up for a seismic charge lesson?"

"Yes!"

"Alright. The HUD will highlight the fissures-"

"Low, average and high strength."

"Yup. And you just gotta judge where you want to place and how powerful the charges are."

"Can I take control real quick?"

Normally, I'd say no, but I was quickly learning that Elly really WAS as smart as Looper stated. Her little hands and arms manipulated the adult-sized controls with effort, but she brought the seismic charge launcher to bear. She aimed for a low strength fissure and depressed the trigger. The charge went past low, past average, then pegged at the highest setting.

"Sure about that, kiddo?"

"Yeah. Just watch."

She released and the seismic charge popped away from the ship, landing perfectly in the fissure. The computer registered a below average yield.

"Alright. I'd back up the ship before you detonate."

"Just one?"

"Trust me."

"OK."

The Golden Goose took cover behind the asteroid we had just stripped bare. I poked the nose out just enough so Elly could watch the charge go off.

"All you, kid."

She pressed the button, stood on the chair and looked out the window. I did, too. The charge exploded, sending debris flying away in a cone from the charge site. The asteroid began breaking apart in a way I'd never seen before. The brown rock crumbled out in all directions, the largest chunk heading straight for us.

Getting on the throttle, I backed us up just in time to watch the chunk fly past us. It was four times the size of our Python. I waited a minute or two until the rest of the debris stopped following it. I pushed the Golden Goose forward and around our cover...

...and saw the fucking largest painite deposit I had ever seen. Perfectly preserved. Elly had placed a charge in such a way that it crumbled the rock away, revealing a perfect yellow-gold ribbon spinning in a debris field.

"See? Once I saw the rock I could tell that it had a weak spot you just had to tap."

Looper and I shared a glance and stared, wide-eyed, at the find. I finally laughed.

"Alright. You're coming on every mining trip from now on."

Elly giggled as the Golden Goose thrummed its way over to the find. The ribbon was almost a kilometer long, with branches of material randomly stretched outward like frozen bolts of lightning along its length. Elly began using the lasers to cut the ribbon in to chunks small enough for the limpets to gather.

She was like a surgeon cutting away cancer. Brow curled in concentration. Never looking away. Blinking maybe once or twice every couple of minutes. Damndest thing I've ever seen.

It was an hour before the entirety of the ribbon was harvested.

"The refinery's maxed. So's the hold," Looper reported.

I had to estimate there was still 100 tons of material still out there.

"We can't fit it all," Elly asked.

"'Fraid not. Just the way it works, sometimes."

Elly let out a sad moan.

"Don't worry about it. We got a full load in a record amount of time. Let's find a good spot to sell it."

Looper called up the market readout on his screen. "Masans, Wang City looks like the nearest sell point.

"Then let's go."

"Course plotted, captain," Elly proudly called.

Did I ever show her how to set nav coordinates? Whatever.

I boosted us out of the asteroid field in the direction of our first jump. The engines groaned in protest under the weight of our cargo.

♪Country roads,take me home,

to the place I belong,

West Virginia, mountain mama,

Take me home, country roads♪

///CORE DYNAMICS COMM SAT MODEL NLX-MK2

///ADMINISTRATIVE FUNCTIONS ENABLED

///AWAITING COMMAND

: \ ] interface eth0 -inject

///EXECUTING...

///COMM SPIKE SUCCESSFUL

///SCRAMBLE ENCRYPT 7-9-GZ-PN75

///DESTINATION - CUBEO, COMMS IDENT [null]

[Comm beep]

[PIIF Comm Admin]: Thank you for contacting the Prismatic Imperium Interstellar Factors. How my I direct your call?

[Carlotta]: I need to speak with Max.

[PIIF Comm Admin]: One moment.

///PLEASE ENTER MEMBER AUTHORIZATION ID

: \ ] CYNIC-PI-153846554

///VERIFIED

///CONNECTING

[Maxwell "Max" Kader]: Cynic! Man it's been ages. How the hell are you?

[Carlotta]: This isn't Cynic. I'm a friend. He gave me your contact info. Don't hang up!

[Max]: . . .

[Carlotta]: He said to tell you, "You still owe me for Bhilinool."

[Max]: . . . OK, friend of Cynic. Wanna tell me what this is about?

[Carlotta]: He's in trouble. I'm working to help him. I need a few things from the Imperial archives that I can't access from here.

[Max]: . . .Alright. Send it over.

: \ ] send packet "materials.pkt"

///SENDING. . . DONE

[Carlotta]: Just sent.

[Max]: One second. . . what? What is this?

[Carlotta]: Cynic says if you can do this, you don't owe him anymore.

[Max]: I'd say so. I'm not sure I can get access to all of this. What the hell is this all about?

[Carlotta]: You don't want to know. Deliver the materials to al-Din Platform in Shangdi. I'll be waiting.

[Max]: . . . Alright. Tell Cynic that I hope he knows what he's doing.

[Carlotta]: I will. Thanks.

///AWAITING COMMAND

: \ ] interface eth0 -eject

///COMM SPIKE DISABLED

: \ ] exit

///EXITING...

///THANK YOU FOR CHOOSING CORE DYNAMICS

Maxwell "Max" Kader pressed the button on his comm port that ended the call. He stared out the window at the spinning sea of stars. The planet Medupe orbited was just coming into view. He sighed and pressed the call button for his secretary.

"Adel, cancel my meetings for the rest of the day and hold my calls."

"Yes, sir. Everything alright?"

"It's fine, Adel. Just need to take care of some things."

"Of course. It's done, sir."

"Thank you."

He put the contact info he was given several days ago into the comm port and hit Send.

The comm beeped once. Twice. Then it clicked.

"Angivale."

"Legate, it's Max Kader. I've made contact."

"With Cynic?"

"With your wayward soul. She's helping him."

The comm went silent for a second. "No matter. She will be dealt with. What did she want?"

"Imperial records requests."

"Give them to her."

"Are you sure?"

"It will all be overwith in a matter of days and we don't want to tip her off. Get her what she wants. When is she supposed to call you again?"

"She isn't. Told me to drop off the materials at al-Din Platform in Shangdi."

"Oooh, this is working out far better than I hoped. Get the information there as she requested. That's all you need to do."

"Legate, our agreement?"

"Your debt is paid, Director. Once the materials are delivered, I will overlook this little... problem... of yours. Angivale out."

The comm line closed and Max leaned his face into his hands. He felt disgusted with himself. Cynic was a good man. A friend. And he had sold him out for a clean slate. He grabbed his coat and the data chit from the comm port with Cynic's friend's list of records to find.

He was going to get her absolutely everything she asked for. He knew he was going to be monitored closely, so headed out the door. The office was empty, except for Adel at the front desk. He held up his finger to his mouth and approached her.

She furrowed her eyebrows as he gestured for a pen and paper. She handed it to him, and he scribbled down a list of instructions for her to carry out. She looked at them, raised an eyebrow, and then nodded.

Good ol' Adel. He headed to the dock to catch the next ship to Achenar. With any luck, he would be able to play the authorities and warn Cynic ahead of whatever plan the Legate had.

Isolation isn't for the faint -hearted. It comes easier with experience. Loneliness can take hold. Depression. Listlessness. Ennui. All of these can be overcome. Even boredom, to some degree. Us space truckers, fighters, men and women of the void understand isolation. We know how to survive the external abuses of environment and the internal struggles of the mind. Isolation has hardened us to its effects over time.

The time requirement is the key. And that is why precocious eight-year old mini-geniuses act like feral cats with vendettas against every destructible thing in your house in isolation.

I have only myself, to blame in this case. Making COVAS mobile for Elly satiated her want for knowledge. Looper was keen to utilize it to pick up where she left off in her schooling. But she was growing bored. She was breezing through lessons that I struggled with in high school. High school! Collegiate courses were still too tedious for her. Too much theory. Not enough application.

And so she began... trying things. The Romeo Eclipse was an almost complete scientific laboratory thanks to the med bay and the array of instruments on board for measuring all manner of interstellar phenomena. I built her for exploration, after all.

Elly pulled apart the surface scanner probe generator first. The probes themselves were small... ish. About half the size of a dumb fire missile. But she managed to rig the production mechanisms to make all manner of tools, trinkets, gizmos, bobbles, and about a thousand other things before we found her. Harmless you think?

1600 lbs. of the stuff is still sitting in the hold. Less than HALF of what was originally there.

Then she turned one of the empty rooms into an aquarium. Oh, how quaint, you say. Just some fish. No, no. There are no fish on Big Pappa's Station. Not unless you bring it with you. And then SELL IT TO A GULLIBLE CHILD.

She said it was something some explorer found in Vulpecula Dark. Size of a gold fish when she "acquired" it. Turned into the size of a thresher shark within a day.

The room still smells... wrong.

The last experiment was the final straw. She rigged the galley to produce what I now refer to as The Meat Horror. What looked like just a strange beef steak actually stood up and walked when she applied electrical current to it. The motions were terrible to watch, like a reanimated, plate-sized corpse flopping about trying to imitate quadrupedal locomotion.

That was the last straw. I had the galley surreptitiously removed (and then destroyed) and replaced. Looper and I had a loooooooooong chat and decided Elly needed to put her energies towards something, shall we say, more productive.

"There's nothing on this station, Cynic."

"What do you want? It's a mining hub."

Light bulbs.

The bottom had fallen out of the painite trade, so I was in need of a new mining ship. One that could core mine and have access to medium landing pads. So, off to Jameson with the hellion and her adoptive father in tow.

"Is Carlotta coming with us," Elly asked.

"No. Carlotta's going to stay behind and work on some things."

Elly frowned at me as I started up the systems aboard the Cafe Spacer. A Mamba I built for speed, and nothing else.

"Why do you always make her angry," she asked me.

"Well, sometimes people just don't get along."

"Or they secretly like each other and won't admit it."

"Elly!" Looper was strapping into his seat.

"What? It's true! I read about it."

"I think you've spent a little too much time with COVAS, Elly," I said. "I have a great deal of respect for Carlotta, but our methods of dealing with things are very different. Now, buckle up. Or do you want to miss the ride on board the fastest Mamba in the bubble?"

She wrinkled her nose at the decision and hopped back into her seat. Satisfied, I engaged the engines and flipped the comms switch over.

"Control, this is Cafe Spacer, requesting permission to depart."

"Cafe Spacer, you are clear for launch. Maintain safe speeds within the dock."

"Thanks, Control."

The Mamba moaned as it lifted off the pad. The enormous engines making easy work for the featherweight ship they were attached to. Elly gave out a concerned 'whoa' as I gunned it out of the mail slot. The lights around the slot flashed by, and we were immediately in the ice rings surrounding the base.

I plugged in our course and the waypoint highlighted on the radar. Pressing the booster, the engines howled behind us as we pointed away from the ice-roids and Big Pappa's.

"Where are we going, anyway," Elly asked again, overcoming her anxiety of the sheer speed the ship was capable of.

"It's a surprise," Looper said. "You'll like it. Guaranteed."

The ship was aligned and I engaged the FSD. The ship controls would always shake in my hands as the thrusters fought to balance the ship's path against the strength of the engines. When we popped into Witch Space, they would go dead, disabled by the automated jump process.

Several jumps and a few fuel scoops later, we arrived in Shinrarta Dezhra. Docking at Jameson Memorial, Elly was glued to the Mamba's window, watching in amazement the sheer number of ships coming and going.

"This is a special place, Elly," Looper said. "Only the best get access to this system, much less this space port. "

"How come we're here? Is it because of Cynic?"

"Mm hmm. He's earned the right to be here. He's an Elite."

"Are you an Elite, daddy?"

"Came close, but your mother and I decided we... we wanted a different life."

Elly kept staring as I cleared us for landing, but I heard the pain in her dad's voice. The Mamba came in and I softly let her down onto the pad. The docking clamps engaged and we were brought into the hangar. Elly was out of her seatbelt in seconds and opening the ramp before Looper and I had stood.

"Hold up, Elly, you don't even know where we're going," Mike called after her.

"It's OK. It's not far."

I lead them off the ramp and onto a tram that took us to the shipyard. I presented my access at the shipyard facility entrance, and we were guided by a small drone to a private room. Normally I could do this from the comfort of my own cockpit. Most pilots did. But the option was always there to go to the yard and sit and enjoy the process of customizing your ship if you wanted.

The room was simple - it detected us and three comfortable chairs folded out of the floor. Looper and I sat down but Elly was, once more, up against the glass the was the entirety of the wall opposite the door. A control panel came up for me at my seat, and I had all the ship types displayed on the glass wall.

I told her I was going to buy a ship, and she would get to customize it, on a few conditions. One - no more experiments. Two - she had to help with tasks and chores on the ship (whichever one she was currently occupying). Three - she could help me and Looper with mining operations we undertook so long as she continued with her schooling. No matter how quickly she was getting through it.

So we built the Python. Elly wasn't happy about that, considering her history with the type of ship, but when we explained the necessity for mining and smaller landing pad access. She begrudgingly agreed, but any more disagreement quickly gave way to excitement as the ship was put together in the viewport. Giant arms removed stock bits from the suspended Python, replaced them with the ones I wanted. The arms were unnaturally swift for their size, the clamps only releasing their hold when a component clunked into place.

When the ship was finally assembled, it finally came time for customization. Elly got to pick the COVAS voice, the ship kit, thruster and hardpoint colors. She wasn't happy with the decals available, so she opted to draw them herself. While she did on a separate panel, time came for a color.

"Gold!" She called from the panel she was quickly drawing on.

Looper and I looked at each other, sighed, and had the gold paint job applied to the ship.

OK, it wasn't so bad. I've seen worse. Elly input her drawings into the computer, and the arms got busy spraying smily faces, flowers and rainbows on the decal points on the ship. It was... something else, for sure.

The next point of contention was the ship name.

"I have no idea, sweetheart," Looper said. "You don't have a name for it?"

"No. I don't like the names I'm thinking about. What would you call it, Cynic?"

I took one look at the ship, looked at Elly, then looked back. "How about the Golden Goose?"

Elly pressed the buttons to have the name inscribed on the hull. The ship was delivered to the docking ring and we spent the night sightseeing around Jameson Memorial. We stopped at the Happy Bottom Riding Club for dinner and got a room their for the night.

The next day, we took the Golden Goose on her maiden voyage out to Sarugh. Elly and Looper took the only rooms available. I was more than happy to get comfy in the pilots chair.

Tomorrow, I start mining again. Painite has lost nearly 40% of its value, but core mining was still painfully slow. I decided to try out Hyades Sector DB-X d1-112 one last time. See if the speed of painite procurement speed would make up for its lost total value.

Things are starting to get back to normal.

Core Dynamics doesn't create what you'd call aesthetically pleasing products. Their ships are brutalist creations meant for efficiency and purpose. With the exception of the Eagle, I'm convinced designers were told to make a ship out of as many trapezoids as they could. Along with that mandate, I am positive they were told they would be horse-whipped for every curve they left in the blueprints. There was an old saying, "If it looks ugly, it will fly the same." Core Dynamics took that to heart.

I never really had a care for any of their ships. If they handle well, they'll be equipped like dog shit. If they're equipped to the nines, they'll handle like dog shit. If they try and balance good handling with a decent loadout, the whole thing is dog shit.

And so I slowly guided one of two of my Core Dynamics Corvettes, the Soliton Yamato, into the mail slot of Big Pappa's Base. The Corvette falls into that middle category. Formidable loadout, meh handling. A little bit of engineering and you get a veritable ship of the line for armor and weapons, with good engines and decent handling. Throw some Prismatic Shields, twin Pack Hounds, an Imperial Hammer with your two favorite huge hardpoints of choice, and you got yourself a space tank.

The ship glided smoothly into position above the largest dock the asteroid base had. The dorsal thrusters gently brought the ship down, dust kicking up past the viewscreen until I felt the THUNK of landing gear on the pad.

"Still too big," Looper said from the secondary console.

"That's what she said," I replied.

Looper had been helping me on jobs since his farming career recently came to an abrupt end. He used to fly Vipers and Couriers and Cobras. Switched over to a Type-6 when he decided mining was the way to go. Then from mining to farming, and farming back to flying.

He was still a decent stick, but it was clear he wasn't comfortable. Even if he was just telepresenting in the fighter I had on board. The Yamato is meaty enough to not really need the fighter, but I always kinda treated it like an extra, free-roaming hardpoint. Therefore, it is very forgiving if you have an out of practice jock manning it.

The dock elevator gave its signature hiss and started descending, moving the Yamato into storage. I'd spent the past week moving my ships out of Leonard Nimoy to various hidey-holes I knew about. This was the last one, save for two in the Empire that I could not find anyone to courier out. We both unbuckled and headed down to the lower deck to disembark.

Carlotta and Elly were waiting when we descended the ramp. Elly leapt into her dad's arms squealing. He caught her, laughing and swinging her around while she squealed even louder. God fucking dammit if it wasn't the cutest fucking thing you've ever seen.

"Have a good trip, gentlemen," Carlotta said with that pleasantly prim accent of hers.

"Yup. This is the last one, and I've got a few more credits in the bank. Did we miss anything?"

"Carlotta showed me how to use a knife," Elly said a little too enthusiastically.

I only raised an eyebrow at the two, but the steely gaze Looper gave Carlotta would've shrunk even the most hardened of criminals.

"Oh don't give me that look. She's shaping into a fine young lady and it's best she start learning to protect herself."

Looper glared at her, then stared back at Elly. Elly just smiled as gleefully as any future serial killer would. Looper rolled his eyes and sighed. "I hope not with real knives?"

"Give me a little credit. We used the plastic ration knives."

"I got her once!"

"Oh? Able to slip past the Empire's finest in hand to hand combat, eh?"

Carlotta waved a hand. "I will admit that her victory was fair and honorable."

"Oh good. Cynic, I'm gonna go if that's OK."

"Don't need my permission."

"Bye, Cynic! Glad you're back too," Elly yelled as Looper carried her away. She began excitedly telling him about all of the knife-fighting techniques Carlotta had shown, her voice carrying as they headed into the portplex.

"She's a sweet girl," Carlotta said. "Wasn't right what happened to them."

"Yeah, she grows on you. Have any luck digging around?"

"More bad luck than good, I'm afraid. I've been burned."

"We have med facilities for that OW!" She punched me in the shoulder. She has no appreciation for my sarcasm.

"I mean my access has been removed."

"I know what it means," I said, rubbing my shoulder. "So that's it then. Kinda surprised they didn't cut you off sooner." I began walking to the portplex, but she stopped me.

"Yes. Look, can we talk? Iin private?"

"Um, sure? Everything OK?"

She shook her head, then gestured towards the Corvette. Uh oh.

Carlotta started climbing the ramp into the Yamato. I followed, bringing up the ramp behind me and sealing it. I then took the lead into one of the empty rooms in the ship.

"Do you never use this room?"

"Corvette's kinda meant for a large crew. Been just me and haven't really moved in. What's on your mind?"

"First," she stumbled. "I... I want to thank you. And apologize. I know I haven't been very forthcoming since Leonard Nimoy."

"Already told you - you don't need to do either. We were both in a pickle, we both helped each other out. Been the same arrangement for a solid week and it seems to work pretty good."

"I agree. And I have to thank you for giving me time and access to your computers."

"Carlotta you could've just bought me a beer and that would cover all this thanks your giving me."

"My former boss knows who you are and has sent agents looking for you."

"...OK. Who's your former boss?"

"He's a Legate with the Prismatic Imperium."

"Big honcho?"

"An understatement."

"Alright. I guess that would explain why I can't get two of my ships couriered."

"And he's working in tandem with someone in the Imperial Senate."

"That... sounds a bit more dangerous."

"Do you realize what I'm telling you?"

"Look, I've been on shit lists before. I can either wait it out, buy it off, or shoot it down whatever he or she is going to throw at me."

Carlotta rolled her eyes and growled in exasperation. She does that a lot at me, I've noticed. "The eyes of the most powerful levels of Imperial society and government are out looking for you. Do you know what Agent Centurions do? What I did?"

"Counter-intelligence. Deep UC operations. Assassination. General cloak and dagger shit."

"Yes. And they are EVERYWHERE."

Not missing the opportunity for a joke. "Well I can't argue that. This is the emptiest room I've got and one is standing right here in front of me."

She steepled her fingers, then clasped her hands together. "How can you be so cavalier about this?"

"As mentioned before," I said, crossing my arms, "this ain't my first rodeo. I will deal with it if or when anything turns up."

Carlotta looked amazingly frustrated. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes cold under that furrowed brow of hers. Kinda hot. Keeping that to myself. Don't want to die. Yet.

She growled again and headed out the door and towards the ramp.

"What do you need?"

"I need you to stop acting like a child!"

"Not gonna happen, and that's not what I meant."

She stopped and turned around as I caught up with her. "I mean, this Legate of yours is not the only one with connections around the Milky Way. What do you need that I can provide to assuage you of this terror phase you're going through?"

Were I made of steel, she would have smelted me down with the scowl she gave me. As she got up right in my face, all I could think of was the knife lessons Elly mentioned earlier.

"I have killed men just as cocky as you. I have slit their throats, broken their necks, blasted them into smoking wreckage and set events in motion that destroyed their lives one agonizing domino at a time. Most when they weren't looking. Some in a more honorable capacity. My fear, this 'terror phase' I am going through, is knowing that there are thousands of people out there just like me. Tens of thousands. Some worse than me at their jobs. More, a lot more, most assuredly better. And right now they are laser-focused on you and anyone connected to you.

In my 17 years of service - money, charisma and hiding has never - NEVER - worked. Not when you've kicked the hornets nest like you have. A member of the Imperial Court has put a death mark on your forehead. And if the man who I owe my life wants to treat the situation like an infantile school yard pissing match, I will be damned to stay and watch him hang."

She turned away and stormed down the ramp.

I've flown through the center of volcanic asteroids the size of small moons. Slapped against a star's corona. Been in furballs with thousands of ships that could've ended my life with one single misstep or hesitation. And fought every manner of ship and pilot combination across the lower third of the galaxy.

All that, and here, on my own ship, safely docked with nary a weapon drawn, I do believe I had my first brush with mortality.

///LOADING IMPERIAL ARCHIVES

///PLEASE ENTER FILE TO DISPLAY

: \ ] cd \bin\hq\secops\legate

: \ ] livecast, legate's office, microphone 28

///WARNING: ACCESS RESTRICTED

: \ ]override auth "reindeer flotilla" -nodeny

///PROCESSING...

///ACCESS GRANTED TO USER "null"

///BEGINNING LIVECAST...

[Angivale]: HE'S BEEN MISSING FOR OVER A WEEK! No one stays hidden that long unless their dead or in the far, far, FAR reaches of space!

[Unknown 1]: W-well he can't be dead, then. He's moved several ships away from Leonard Nimoy already.

[Angivale]: SHIPS! MULTIPLE! WHY AREN'T YOU ABLE TO TRACK THEM!?

[Unknown 1]: S-sir. He seems to have connections and we're getting stonewalled when attempting to follow up with local authorities.

[Sound of breaking object]

[Angivale]: FIND him Centurion, or your fate will be the same as your predecessor.

[Unknown 1]: Y-Yes, Legate. I-I'm on my w-way.

[Comm beep]

[Angivale]: I swear to fucking god.

[Door jingle]

[Angivale]: Not now!

[Door hissing open]

[Unknown 2]: Harry.

[Angivale]: I said not- oh. Senator Hewitt.

[Door hissing shut and locking]

[Sen. Hewitt]: Troubles?

[Angivale]: You don't know the half of it. What are you doing here?

[Sen. Hewitt]: I know MORE than 'half of it'. You're leaving a trail of collateral damage and I'm here to get assurances. What happened to this 'Cynic'?

[Angivale]: He's moving around his fleet. I've tried to put a freeze on his assets within the Empire, but that has netted us exactly two ships in his fleet of 30+.

[Sen. Hewitt]: Less than stellar.

[Angivale]: He's already paid off his debt to Leonard Nimoy for his involvement in the... incident... there. There's nothing we can do stop him accessing his resources within Federation territory.

[Sen. Hewitt]: Yes. Quite ingenious, his escape from those horrible pirates. A good thing, seeing as how they would've made off with an Imperial asset of our own. Oh wait. They didn't. Cynic did.

[Angivale]: She's in direct contact with him now. For good or ill, that can prove useful.

[Sound of materials falling on desk.]

[Sen. Hewitt]: Someone has been digging around in the Imperial Archives. Someone with clearance to do so at the investigative levels of your office.

[Angivale]: . . .

[Sen. Hewitt]: You're getting sloppy, Harry. I took a page from you and set a few infotraps myself. I was able to stop certain information from getting out. But not all of it.

[Angivale]: All of the damning information is secure. She won't find anything in the Archives.

[Sen. Hewitt]: We hire and train some of the most gifted spies in the entire galaxy. This FORMER asset of yours will connect the dots sooner or later. Remove her access to them.

[Angivale]: Did you do a traceroute? She has to be transmitting from somewhere.

[Sen. Hewitt]: Don't take me for an idiot. Of course I did. Do you want to know where the data requests came from?

[Angivale]: I'm not going to like this, am I?

[Sen. Hewitt]: No, Harry. Because they, apparently, are coming from this very room.

[Sound of computer input beeps]

[Angivale]: Done. She's burned. She won't have any pull with anyone or anything in the Empire. Happy?

[Sen. Hewitt]: It's a start. Tell me, how are you tracking Cynic outside of the Empire?

[Angivale]: You don't want to ask me that.

[Sen. Hewitt]: No, I don't, but you have FORCED me to. You have made MANY a mistake in a manner of weeks that you've managed to avoid your entire career. And while the Imperial Court is quiet for now with their latest set of distractions, we are not out of harms way. Not by a long shot. Now, how are you tracking him?

[Angivale]: Paid mercenaries.

[Sen. Hewitt]: MERCENARIES? Are you insane? The Empire does NOT endorse privateers!

[Angivale]: Would you calm down. The Empire doesn't pay for them. I pay for them. Me. I am taxing my own personal accounts, through various shells you paranoid prick, and can reach all the way to Colonia if need be.

[Sen. Hewitt]: And with all of that... nothing?

[Angivale]: Cynic has shown he has pockets at least as deep as mine.

[Sen. Hewitt]: So tell me, Legate, are there any OTHER resources you can use to hunt Cynic down? One's that don't involve such a disgusting level chicanery?

[Angivale]: . . .

[Sen. Hewitt]: . . .

[Angivale]: . . .

[Sen. Hewitt]: Your silence is not reassuring.

[Angivale]: . . . A bounty.

[Sen. Hewitt]: [laughs] Is that the best you can come up with?

[Angivale]: Yes, a bounty, Senator. He's still allied to Aisling Duval. We can't force him out of her faction. But we can push him to defect.

[Sen. Hewitt]: I'm not sure I follow.

[Angivale]: If he contacts anyone within the faction, we can use that to trace him and attack him.

[Sen. Hewitt]: You've tried killing him before, Legate.

[Angivale]: Not kill. Attack. And make it obvious that it was the princess' followers that snitched on him. Or have members attack him directly.

[Sen. Hewitt]: . . .

[Angivale]: It's obvious Cynic is more cunning and resourceful than you or I could've anticipated. He'll see that his contact with them was a mistake, that it lead our hounds to him, and cut ties with the last resource he has within the Empire.

[Sen. Hewitt]: Making him a wanted man.

[Angivale]: Exactly! And then use our respective powers to blast the bounty to every hunter in the bubble.

[Sen. Hewitt]: That's assuming he doesn't just leave. There is no basis for a bounty if he chooses to simply withdraw his membership.

[Angivale]: Then we just have to make another faction enticing enough to defect to. . . Can you get me a complete, and I mean COMPLETE, account of Cynic's records?

[Sen. Hewitt]: Like what?

[Angivale]: Mission reports. Call histories. What he's bought. What he's sold. How he's outfitted his ships. Ship inventories, especially ones at Shinrarta Dezhra. His favorite foods and entertainment.

[Sen. Hewitt]: What exactly are you looking for?

[Angivale]: I don't know yet. Just get me the records and I can figure out how to lure him out from under Princess Duval.

[Sen. Hewitt]: . . . This will cost me. Cost US. You are asking me to use every last favor and ingratiation I have in pursuit of this man. The cost for infiltrating the Pilot's Federation ALONE will be dear. What guarantees do I have that this will work?

[Angivale]: You have none. Other than a sentence to the gallows you mentioned previously if we don't do anything at all.

[Sen. Hewitt]: Hmph. This will take a while. A long while.

[Angivale]: So long as nobody rocks the boat too soon and Cynic stays a member of the Prismatic Imperium, it won't matter.

[Sen. Hewitt]: . . .Alright. I will get to work. And you can continue doing... whatever it is you think you are doing here. Goodbye, Legate.

[Angivale]: Senator.

[Sound of door unlocking and hissing open]

[Sen. Hewitt]: Oh, and Legate?

[Angivale]: . . . ?

[Sen. Hewitt]: Do NOT make me come down here again.

[Sound of door closing]

\ ] end livecast

///LIVECAST ENDED

: \ ] exit

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

///BEGIN ANSIBLE TRANSMISSION...

///LOADING INTERFACE... OK

///READY FOR CONTENT

It's been a few days since I sent out an update over ansible. Not sure I should be sending these, seeing as I'm a wanted man amongst other wanted men and women. We made landing at Big Pappa's two days ago. Spent a day in the med bed while Elly busied herself with cleaning up the mess she made tying the computer systems together. Smart kid to be able to pull something like that off. I would've NEVER attempted it, and I don't consider myself a slouch in the IT department.

Looper came to yesterday morning. His daughter, Elly, was ecstatic and even more grateful than before. The NeoMedical med bay was a godsend. Got my leg and broken eye socket patched up. Still sore, but I'll live. The Imperial got patched up too - unfortunately she has a few minor scars on her face now. She was grateful for the assistance, but understandably dismayed. Without them she was stunning to look at. Would've said she still was, but she didn't seem to be in the mood for patronizing. I got a thing for tough broads, and the scars do it for me, so I let her be.

Her names Carlotta, turns out. Agent Centurion Huxley. While Looper got himself up and about, I took Elly and Carlotta shopping, or what counts for shopping in this gussied up asteroid. They were able to find a few sets of clothes that were better than the emergency utes I had on board. Was worried that Carlotta might make an attempt to contact her superiors, but she didn't. Stayed in sight the entire time. Well, except for when she and Elly did their dressing room thing.

Picked up a few things and went back to the Romeo Eclipse. Everyone got freshly showered and dressed. Then dinner. Then a sit down to sort out what the fuck had been going on.

Looper told me he'd heard about corporate sponsorship of a colony out near Colonia. Funding was provided by some Imperial corporation called GenuSect. Open application for colonists to a newly terraformed world. Looper applied for his family and got an invite.

That's when things starting getting weird, he said. He said the rep arrived at their home on Jones Vision in HR 1064. Was courteous and polite and seemed excited to welcome the family to the mission. He was taking the family information and photos for documentation and that's when he promptly got up and left. No explanation. No goodbye. Just straight out the door.

Then the constant police patrols by their home.

And the next thing they knew, Ogre and his troops raided their house. Looper and Shadow fought back, naturally. Shadow was able to hold them back as Looper and Elly got away. Said he saw Shadow just as Ogre shotgunned her in the back.

He made it to Mcrea, where the station constable (well, ex-constable, now) sold him to the pirates.

Carlotta filled us in on them. Colorful lot. Lanky, who did a Class-A Wile E. Coyote to the docking bay floor, was called Deet. Skinny one was called Genie. The Ogre turned out to be one Armand Veillon. AKA Cyrano.

"Cyrano?" I said. Carlotta replied with a yup. Both of us couldn't help but start laughing. Had to explain the joke to Looper and Elly and relate our escape from the Pistol Derby. Looper shook his head at me. Elly still looked confused, but I told her to look up the Old Earth character of the same name and she'd understand later.

The rest you know. Carlotta was sent to track me down, but became suspicious of her command's intentions when they ordered the hit on me in HR 1064. A hit. From the Prismatic Imperium. Who's cereal did I piss in to warrant a hit in the fucking Empire? She said she didn't know, but was ordered to apprehend me until pulled at the last minute to find the Romeo Eclipse in Leonard Nimoy. That's where she found the Pistol Derby and decided to snoop aboard.

She was caught and tortured. Lots of misery following that ship and her crew.

So together, with all this information, we had not a fucking clue why the Empire was after me, why the pirates were after Looper and Elly, or why Carlotta was told to look for the Romeo Eclipse.

We were all scratching our heads on this one. We decided to sleep on it, and make a game plan tomorrow.

Had a couple of drinks with Looper. Said Elly was literally dumped on their doorstep as a baby. Out of nowhere. Said Shadow and he had been trying for a kid for years. Filed reports, tried to track down original parents, nothing. They officially adopted her couple of months later. He apologized for her messing up all the wiring everywhere, when I told him. Said she was incredibly smart but didn't really get boundaries. She seemed like a good kid, so I didn't heckle him too much.

But he said I didn't understand just HOW smart she was. Wicked smart. Like compute advanced FDL physics in her head without needing a computer smart. I told him that I thought she looked really familiar, but he waved it off. He's been living on a small farm settlement and I've been to every port in this arm of the Milky Way. Of course she would seem familiar. He was probably right.

Speaking of Elly, I had to get a miniature version of COVAS she could take around with her. Wasn't hard to find a wrist-mounted PDA that could handle COVAS' operating system. Looper thanked me again for the hundredth time. Said they didn't have anything like that at Jones Vision. Think he was just happy someone could answer the unending number of questions that poured from that kid's mouth.

Carlotta laid down on a makeshift cot and stared at the ceiling for the rest of that night. Something was really eating at her. When I approached her about it, she said she just needed time to think.

Fine by me.

This is going to be the last update for a bit. I've taken quite a few hits to my bank account lately and need to start working again. Once I get my fines paid down at Leonard Nimoy somehow, I'll start bounty hunting or mining again. The Romeo Eclipse will stay parked and comfy here at Big Pappa's until we all figure out what to do.

///END CONTENT

///ENCRYPTING... DONE

///TRANSMITTING... DONE

///END ANSIBLE TRANSMISSION

It was the hard blow that put me under. I said bye to Xi, paid her off, turned around, and then the sick dull crack that made my eyes feel pressed out of their sockets and my temples like they were two sizes too small. Then darkness. You register sounds and movement but it's like a dream where you keep running but don't go anywhere - your body frozen to that same point in the universe until whatever you were running from caught up to you.

It was the hard blow, again. This time, my cheek's on fire and the coppery tang of blood is all over my tongue. The lights were too bright. I winced and tried to turn my head away, but that made the bruise on the back of my skull stretch and complain something awful. Someone was yelling at me. Or talking? Head hurts too much. Eyes are watering from the pain, blurring the vision I'm trying desperately to focus.

"Wake up, asshole. I want to have a word," a gruff, deep voice said.

The world started clearing up. The first thing that hit me was the smell. Blood in my mouth. Human body odor. Corroded metal and an acrid, vinegar-vomit smell I knew to be the stench of Xeno cargo. That got me alert. I scanned around but was relieved to see that the cargo bay we occupied was empty. The smell coming from caustic burns on the unprotected floor.

There were five of us total. Two of them - scrawny woman and lanky man - sat on containers by the door. Each had a fixation on their fingernails. Black crescents tipping each spotted, dirty finger. The woman bit them off and spit them onto the cargo bay floor. The other picked at them with a black-bladed Bowie knife. The woman had short brown hair, one side of her head was shaved with a tribal mark of some kind tattooed over the space, with the ear behind it festooned with rings and studs. The other had a short mohawk and similar tattoos around his neck that dropped below his zipped-up utility suit.

One sat beside me. Both of us tied to chairs. She wore the uniform of an Imperial Centurion, caked with blood from the ravages of her face. Beat so bad her eyes had swollen shut and her lip was purple and fat. I winced when I looked at her. I couldn't tell much else other than bronze skin and long raven hair done up in a ponytail. Christ she must've put up a fight if they beat her that bad.

The last, other than myself, was an ogre of a man in a dirty brown long coat. He sported a bandolier of shotgun shells over a hairy, bare chest. He was the one stomping in front of me in combat boots. A soup-catcher of a beard parted at the top where his mouth was, otherwise it would hide it. His teeth were cracked and yellow when he got right up in my face.

"You gonna wake up or am I going to have to hit ya again?"

"The smell is waking me up just fine, thanks."

The ogre pulled out a long dagger from his boot. "Don't get cute. Just tell me the codes to get on your Orca."

"Orca? Do I have an Orca? Sorry, my head really fuckin' hurts and it's hard to remember things right now."

The blow came like a hammer and my vision blurred. My neck popped as my head made contact with my shoulder and bounced back. Holy shit this guy could throw a punch.

"You... whoa."

"The codes."

"Shouldn't hit guys in the head. It numbs everything after."

The dagger rose in the air and came down on my thigh. The blade buried straight down to the bone. I wish I could tell you I didn't scream. I did. But YOU try taking eight inches of steel to your leg and be tickled about it.

"FUCK! OK. I was wrong. Not numb. JESUS."

He began twisting the blade around. I could feel muscle being torn from bone as the tip was deflected outward by my femur. Small miracles it wasn't inward. I groaned as the fucker took his sweet time moving that blade around.

"Give. Me. The. Codes."

My head was leaned forward in a vain attempt to withdraw from the agony. Controlling the spittle soaking my chest wasn't a concern at the moment. I grit my teeth and I swear I could hear them creak and groan under the pressure.

I whispered something deliberately incoherent. Something quiet to make him get closer. He leaned in.

"What was that?"

Mumbled again. Maybe he's dumb enough to get close enough for a... yup. He is.

"Speak up, boy."

I bit his nose. A greasy, nasty thing. It was the biggest protrusion I could reach. I clamped down as hard as I could, my mouth full of hot stinking copper. The ogre screamed.

"AGGGH! Get him off me! Get him off!"

His breath, his body odor, everything was nauseating.

The idiots tried to pull him off first. The sound of skin and cartilage tearing almost made me puke, but not quite, still had to concentrate on inflicting carnage on this asshole's face.

"Let him go!" The woman screamed at me.

"Fuck you," was the other one crying out just before his fist socked me in the eye.

My teeth connected and the taste of blood and greasy flesh was in my mouth... along with the lump that was his nose. Ogre was screaming, clutching at his face as blood spurt between fingers.

"The medkit! Hurry!"

The three stumbled off, Ogre cursing me at the top of his lungs. Even as the door to the cargo bay closed I could still here his booming voice. I spit his nose out onto a grate and watched it roll and then tumble below. The next couple of spits was trying to get the hairs and fibers off my tongue.

"Fuck," was all I could say.

"Not... bad..."

It was the woman next to me. Her voice was quiet and lisped, but didn't hide that notorious Imperial snobbishness.

"Are you alright? They didn't breaking anything internal on you I hope."

"No. Just... my head. How's it... look?" Her speech was dull and I could tell she had a concussion. Or two.

"Listen, help me get out of here and I have a med facility on my ship that can make you any manner of pretty you want."

"OK. But... we're both tied up."

"A minor technicality. They left us a little help." Using my head, I gestured to the dagger protruding from my thigh. I regretted it instantly, the painful splitting sensation making my eyes water again. And the dagger. That still hurt quite a bit.

"Doesn't that... need to stay... in?"

"First aid says yes. Current circumstances say no. I can't reach it, my hands are tied behind me. Yours are tied to your arm rests. If you can hop over here you can probably reach it."

"Think... I can manage."

She gingerly scooted around me to the side with the dagger. She was hurting. Bad. Each and every motion seemed to tax her and she was breathing heavily by the time she had gotten around to the dagger. She clawed at it, brushing the thing but unable to get her fingers around. She scooted closer, this time able to wrap around it completely. Instead of pulling outward, her hand was at an angle that just made it bend to one side.

"Ow OW OW!"

"Sorry. Hard to.. do this from this... angle." She got her fingers under the hilt and began applying pressure that way. I grunted and spat as the thing slowly, agonizingly withdrew in a long, wet scrape. Inch by inch. It didn't seem to end. I was about to scream before the thing finally pulled free.

"Oh thank god," I said. I couldn't hold the tears of relief streaming down my face. Though the sight of blood seeping from the wound did not instill a lot of confidence. "OK. What's easier to cut, you or me?"

"Me."

"Do it."

Frantically, she sawed at the rope around her wrist. I noticed the screaming had stopped from beyond the door.

"Might want to hurry. I don't hear them anymore."

The rope snapped free and she was a flurry of movement. With her now free hand, she quickly sliced through the rope on her other wrist, then her ankles. Standing, she lilted to one side for a second, extending her arms to maintain balance. I thought she was going to fall on the damn dagger.

She blinked a few times, righted herself, and came straight at me. She had my hands and ankles free in two quick slices. She helped me to my feet, and we both leaned into each other.

"Alright," I said. "Let's get the fuck outta here."

"OK. Not... familiar with ship."

"It's a Python. Which means the only way out of the bay is through the door they left through."

"Don't... like that idea."

"Right there with you. Come on."

We hobbled over towards the port side of the ship.

"Look for a lever. Should say Emergency Release or something to the effect."

"Over there." She gestured to the throw lever with yellow and black stripes over it. An unlit emergency light hovered over the words "EMERGENCY RELEASE".

"Hey, not bad. You see pretty good for someone with eyes swollen shut."

"I'd punch you... but tired."

"You're right, I probably deserve that, too." My fingers were getting numb and it was getting harder and harder to focus. Had to hurry. We reached the throw lever just as the door to the cargo bay whooshed open.

"Hey!" It was the lanky punk. He lifted a blaster from his hip and aimed it straight at us.

"Stay close," I said. I threw the lever.

The light above the switch lit up and an alarm sounded. The floor cracked open straight down the middle of the bay. It groaned, and then slid wide. Lanky man cried out, his foot almost dead center where the floor used to be. A blaster shot PANG'd right over our heads. The twenty-or-so-foot fall to the docking bay floor screwed up his aim.

"Our turn."

"Don't think... I can make... that jump."

"Who said anything about jumping?" A press of a button next to the lever and an emergency ladder deployed right at the edge of the cavernous opening.

"Oh."

Two cripples going down a ladder makes for a funny joke intro, but we made it. Both of us were in sorry shape. We struggled across the docking bay as fast as we could, passing the broken body of Lanky on the way. He panicked and tried flapping his arms like some awkward-ass bird and managed to put his head down as the first thing to pad his landing. His neck snapped like a twig.

I got my orientation and pointed towards the row of ships that was mine. "Looking for an Orca in that row. It's the only one."

"OK."

We were leaving a trail of sweat and blood that anyone could've followed. This area of the docking ring was more for storage, though, and nobody came here unless they were switching out a ship. That is, if they had multiple ships to choose from. My battered Orca had it's ramp down when we arrived. We went up the gangway to the security door. I put my face up to the scanner, and the door popped open.

I... was not prepared for the shriek and the sight of a child running the opposite way. I shrieked back, and my friend merely startled slightly, but held me up from rolling down the gangway.

"Who the... what... whoa!" She steadied me more competently than I would have in her shoes.

"Think... we scared her."

"Yeah, being all bloodied probably does that."

I put our guest down in the med bay next to Looper. The kid was not where I left her, so she had to be somewhere in the ship. But I had to make it to the cockpit. I sprayed a tube of FleSheal into my dagger wound and growled as it hissed its way through the process of knitting the muscles and tendons back to the bone. I caught myself in a mirror and could see why the girl ran. I looked like fucking Dracula. Cleaned it off the best I could while the Imperial started getting the finest treatment medical AI could give from the bed she lay in. Robotic arms swiveling and lights dancing over her body as it analyzed her.

"Don't worry. It'll fix you up."

She said nothing and let the drugs she was being injected with take hold.

With myself quick-patched, I tried out my leg and almost fell over. I could limp but I think I'd need some time on the beds myself. This facility was an expensive but goddamned fortuitous investment.

I made my way to the cockpit, grabbing every handhold I could find on the way. Cursing my leg, I noticed that everywhere there were jerry-rigs and wiretaps and hanging cables from the medical room to the cockpit.

"What the fuck?"

I finally made it to the cockpit. Spent ration foils and plates were piled next to the galley. The little girl sat huddled under one of the control dashes by the pilot's seat, covered in one of the emergency blankets.

"Um, hi there. It's me, Cynic. The guy who talked to you on the comm?" The girl stared at me for a second. I took a few wobbly steps forward. "Look, sorry about earlier. I'm not a vampire, I swear. I... uh... look. I had to hurt some bad people to get away from them. And to make sure they don't hurt us, I have to get into that chair there."

"The pirates," she said. "How'd you hurt them?

"Ummm," the question caught me off guard. "Well, I... uh... fuck it. I bit the asshole's nose off."

She stared for a second, wondering if I was being serious or not. She smiled and then giggled. "You really bit his nose off?"

I guess it did sound stupid, thinking about it. I began to chuckle with her. "Yeah, I guess I did. Don't recommend it though. Absolutely gross."

"Are you the one who got them to dump us?"

I was at the command chair, but I couldn't kneel down to her level. So I stood back and looked down at her.

"Yeah. Your dad sent me a message. I tracked you down as fast as I could. I'm sorry I wa-"

The girl stood out of the blanket and almost bowled me over as she hugged my leg. She only had an emergency utility suit on, which means she had been wandering around naked until she found it. Regret immediately sank in as I blamed myself for not having things prepared for the inevitability of her and her dad's waking up.

"Thank you," she said, sobbing into my leg. Whether it was for the violence I described to her or the chasing them down, I wasn't sure.

I put my hand on the back of her head, "You're welcome, kiddo. But I really need to sit down now."

"Oh." She let go, sniffling and wiping tears from her face.

"See that seat over there," I said, pointing to the secondary crewman seat.

"Yeah," she said.

"Grab your blanket and buckle up. We're gonne be making a fast exit."

"OK."

As she did, I couldn't help but have the feeling that I had seen her somewhere before. I couldn't put my finger on it, but she was goddamned familiar. That and I thought it strange that her hair was almost platinum blonde and I knew Looper and Shadow were brunettes through and through. Marked for later inquiries.

"COVAS, what's your status?"

"Systems online and ready for flight, Commander."

"Great. Let's go."

I sat down. From here I could see the trail of blood from the other ship. And, motherfucker, the other ship was none other than the Pistol Derby! Fucking hell. We were on the Pistol Derby! So THOSE were the clowns I've been chasing across the galaxy.

The thought of hobbling over to one of my better armed vessels crossed my mind, but then I saw the cloud of dust and debris balloon out from under the ship as its thrusters began to throttle up.

"Shit shit shit." I brought up the console and quickly deployed the only weapon I had - the mining turret. Spinning it as far as I could without hitting the front landing strut, I pipped power over to weapons, aimed and opened fire. The mining laser would do jack shit to shields or hull. I was hoping to god his shields weren't up yet.

The purple beam lanced out and connected with the front landing strut of the Python. I nearly yelped in delight, but concentrated on the strut and its connection to the floor. I pulled off the trigger and saw what I wanted to see - the strut was melted to the docking bay.

Alarm klaxons blared and the notice of a penalty fine and a warrant flashed across my screen.

The docking structure began moving, but not nearly quick enough. I nudged the throttle to get the Romeo Eclipse off her landing gear. Once free, I maneuvered her forward and then up out of the docking bay opening. The white buildings and greenery of Leonard Nimoy Station descended down my viewscreen until all I could see was the mail slot opening of the port.

"Hang on!"

I punched the throttle forward, pressing the booster button as I did. The engines issued their high pitch whine as they spun up and we were pinned back into our seats as they released their burst with a flaming boom. 0-600 meters per second in under two seconds. I could feel the grav compensators groan in complaint. The mail slot grew and my heart skipped as a giant Type-9 began lumbering through the slot.

"Cynic... CYNIC!" Screamed the girl from behind me.

I was able to slip through the narrow open side of the slot, my shields glowing for a second as we bounced off railing surrounding the opening. Free space felt like a breath of fresh air. I quickly tapped in the coordinates of someplace I knew we would be safe for a bit. Give us all time to catch up and finally talk and put all these fucking pieces together.

Maybe get this leg properly fixed.

COVAS counted us down. The FSD droned louder and louder. The engine screamed. Bang. Witch space.

///FAULCON DELACY OS

///BUILD v102345.23

: \ ] display internal sensor log -a | transcribe

///TIME? DATE?

: \ ] 1809 33060103

///DISPLAYING TRANSCRIPTION

[Overheard Comms]: What the fuck do you mean 'Escaped'?

[Cyrano]: He killed one of my guys and bit my fucking nose off. He's a fucking lunatic in and out of the cockpit. He made it out through the cargo bay emergency release and made it to his Orca and took off.

[OC]: THEN WHY IN THE EMPRESS' NAME ARE YOU NOT FOLLOWING HIM?

[Cyrano]: He... he welded our landing struts to the docking ring.

[OC]: . . .He what now?

[Cyrano]: Fucking used a mining laser. I didn't have my shields up yet.

[OC]: [Sigh] . . . Alright. Abandon the ship. Here's the access codes for Huxley's Imperial Clipper that's moored there now.

[Cyrano]: Didn't tell me she had a nice boat like that.

[OC]: You didn't need to know and you weren't supposed to fucking TORTURE HER.

[Cyrano]: Bitch was snooping around where she wasn't wanted. Lucky I found her when I did. Would've tipped her to the whole scheme.

[OC] Your incompetence let her find you. You've proven most taxing on both my patience AND my pocket book. And now one of my best agents is in a position to become an asset to the LARGEST pain in the ass pilot that needs no assistance in eluding us!

[Cyrano]: We'll catch up to him.

[OC]: I sincerely doubt that. Just get going. And Cyrano?

[Cyrano]: Yes, Legate?

[OC]: This is the last bit of help. You've fucked up everything from here until doomsday and if you fail again I will put a bounty on your head so high your own mother will shoot you out of the skies. Do you understand?

[Cyrano]: . . .

[OC]: Do. You. FUCKING. Understand!?

[Cyrano]: . . .Yeah. I understand.

[OC]: Good.

[Comms beep]

[Genie]: Cynic is going to fucking die.

[Cyrano]: Fuckin' A he is. Got a mind to shove some steel into that Legate's brain pan. Let's get to that Clipper and get going.

[Genie]: What about Deet and our other, um, guest?

[Cyrano]: Oh. Right. COVAS, activate self destruct.

[Genie]: !!

[Cyrano]: Move.

: \ ] end log

///LOG CLOSED

: \ ] exit

///EXITING...