Killed by a Mocking Bird [still not a DiD, exactly]

[Timsup2nothin]

This is 'book two' of this game. It should stand alone, but might be more enjoyable if you read this first.

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Prelude

Bryon Danna sat on the floor with his back to the wall of the darkened hallway. Light flooded through the open door just to his right. He carefully tucked his long legs out of the light...and listened.

"How could you let this happen?" That was his mother. There was an edge to her voice; a hint of hysteria. It was hard for Bryon to imagine that. His mother was always totally cool; the perfect fleet wife.

His father's tone was calm, almost solemn, but he could hear an edge there as well. "Thing's happen in space. On a ship with six hundred crew there's a lot of things that can happen. No one can predict them all."

"So why are they taking it out on us?" she asked, and Bryon could really hear the edge cutting now. Without peeking around the corner he couldn't tell if she was about to cry or fly into a rage. He had never imagined his mother doing either.

"Us? They took it out on me because I was the captain of the ship. That's how the fleet works. I knew it. You knew it. We took the prizes, now we take the lumps."

"Take the lumps?" She was nearly screaming now. "That's what you call it? Taking the lumps? You lost the ship! You take the lumps! I'm not going to live in some methane stew! I'm not... My son isn't... Great Gunne, how could you let this happen?"

Bryon stiffened, grinding his shoulder blades against the wall. Methane stew? What was she talking about?
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The bar was small, and crowded. It had a smell to it. The smell that came from having a clientel that spent much of their time in enviro-suits. It wasn't a pleasant place, or particularly comfortable. It was a place to drink, frequented by people who drank with a purpose. Bryon Danna sat at a small table in the corner. The drink in front of him had grown warm. The other man had done all the talking, but Bryon had not touched the glass while he listened. Now he sat alone and stared into the whiskey. He found no answers.

The man who had shared the table had been his father's only friend here, if you could call drinking together in shared bitter silence friendship. The man had been married, and summed up that relationship in one sentence; 'the bitch took everything'. Bryon could imagine his father sitting, in this same bar, with the same man, saying the same thing, and both of them drinking. And he could imaging his father in the cramped quarters in the small section of the Boron military base where Argon normal environment was maintained, with a phase pistol in his hand. What he couldn't imagine was his father pressing the phase pistol to his head and pulling the trigger. He couldn't imagine it, but he knew that it had happened.

The girl slid into the opposite seat, and he looked up. "Hey sport," she said, "you drinking alone?"

He looked pointedly to each side, then back to his glass. "Clearly." He was young. He had the hormones of a young man. He thought that his grief outweighed them. He was wrong.
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Mati slipped her legs from under the sheet and dropped them to the floor. She padded soundlessly to the lav, the tiny lights from the entertainment console giving her just enough light to make her way. Their soft glow gave a sheen to the pale skin of her naked body that Bryon would have appreciated had he not been so deeply asleep.

Her bag was on the counter in the lav, right where she had left it. She drew out the small comlink and pressed in the security code. Then she pressed a call sign and brought the comlink close to her lips so she could speak quietly.

"Good intel?" asked a gruff voice from the link.

"Not tonight," she replied, "but I think I've found us a recruit."

[Sirrobert]

Damn, way to start off a dark origin. I actually got sad for Bryon there

Can't wait for how such a story is going to kick of an advanture in the stars. I doubt it'll be merry friends with everyone

[Song Of Obsidian]

I half-expected Aron Danna to be your next main character, so this is an even more pleasant surprise. Intrigued, to say the least.

[Timsup2nothin]

I half-expected Aron Danna to be your next main character, so this is an even more pleasant surprise. Intrigued, to say the least.

I more than half expected that myself. When I wrote the interlude with him getting cashiered I actually had a plan for him that didn't involve such a dismal end. But back at game shaping stories and stories shaping game, what I had in mind for Aron just didn't fit into the game as it currently stands. I was left with either going a different direction and saving Aron for later.

Then I was working in the yard and came up with this opening...and I couldn't pass. Too many (hopefully) interesting characters and the move to the far NW that I wanted to make.

[delstars]

I must admit that I'm a bit disappointed that you are changing the view from which the story is being told, I just hope that we get to see some reactions to the more... Insane hub plot requirements.

[Timsup2nothin]

I must admit that I'm a bit disappointed that you are changing the view from which the story is being told, I just hope that we get to see some reactions to the more... Insane hub plot requirements.

Sorry, but never fear. Notice that Patrick Henry basically washed his hands of the whole hub business...and for the moment so have I. Whether I go back to it with this story or not I cannot say, but I will go back to it in the game and when I do it will be in the story...more than likely as a major plot element.

Meanwhile,, in real life I have managed to injure not one, but both hands, which will be slowing my writing down for a bit. I can two finger out a response like this, but that might be my limit for a few days.

[Sirrobert]

How the hell do you injure both hands?
Anyway good luck with them

[Song Of Obsidian]

You shouldn't hurt yourself right after snatching attention with a new story. That's just cruel. I think the community should try to come up with a proper punishment for you.

[Timsup2nothin]

Rescuing two large and panicking dogs, which involved exchanging grips..."Hi there, let me shake your teeth." I think the community would be satisfied that they inflicted sufficient punishment.

But, I am learning to manage the keyboard, so here is...

Prelude, part 2

Bryon woke up slowly. He had a hard time getting his gummy eyelids open. The funeral had been a dismal affair, and Mati's second night with him had been shared with far too much space fuel. He had one more night, and promised himself he would enjoy the company without the liquor, if she came back.

She was gone; caught a taxi to the trading station, where she worked in some sort of shop. He considered going to look for her, under the pretense of exploring the larger Argon section the trading station offered. He could easily see how the cramped half deck of Argon environment that the military base had to offer could drive anyone to distraction. Mati had told him the trading station was better, but not a whole lot. Adding some teeth to his intention to drink less, he spent a fair portion of his remaining funds on a ride to the neighboring Argon sector, Three Worlds, and spent most of the day wandering the Trading station there.

She showed up that night as promised, in the same dismal bar where he had first met her. They left quickly. Her place was a small apartment on the trading station, with room mates. He hadn't been there. They went back to the compartment he had been allowed in his father's 'bereavement package'.
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Morning arrived all too soon. The girl slid from his bed. She had brought a small travel bag so she could get ready here and go straight to work. "To give them a few extra minutes together," she had said. He watched her, thinking that turning his life upside down over what may well mean nothing more to her than a three day fling would be foolish. But as little as he had here, he had even less back in OmLy. He took a chance.

"Yesterday," he said, "when I was in Three Worlds...I think I was looking for a job."

She peered around the edge of the lav doorway, eyes wide. "Really? Did you find anything? That would be great. You could stay!"

He was encouraged. "Well, I didn't, but I could look more. I wish I had started sooner..." He really couldn't afford to stay once the fleet took back this transient compartment. Unless... "I could cash my ticket back to OmLy. I could afford a compartment for a week or two in Three worlds Trading Station. If I couldn't find a job I'd really be stuck though."

She stepped out of the lav. "I could talk to my cousin. He would almost certainly be able to put you to work." She was trying to help him stay. She looked pleased and excited. The decision was made.
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His search for a job in Three Worlds didn't go well. And the more he learned about Mati's cousin the more nervous he got. But every night with her convinced him further that he had made the right choice.

"I'm out of money," he finally admitted in despair, as they lay in bed. "Lease is up in three days. I could call my mother in OmLy, but guaranteed all she would send me is a ticket back." A ticket back to OmLy, where he would end up at the academy; a position he had a right to because of his father's service. Where he would be the son of a disgraced captain, or worse, the son of a suicidal commander.

Mati draped her leg across his waist. "My cousin came through. He has a job for you." She called her cousin a pirate, but Bryon knew that most 'pirates' were nothing more than small time smugglers. He was a good pilot, with a prep school background that probably would rouse less suspicion than most. That was surely why her cousin wanted him. This would probably just be some runs with a little contraband; just enough to hold him over until he found a real job.

"Tell him I'll do it."
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It had taken the rest of the time on his lease for the plan to come together.

"He's panicking," Mati breathed into the comlink, "but I've got it under control."

"Be sure you do," came the response.

She stepped out of the lav, smiling and naked. "One day's work and you'll have enough money to start a new life anywhere you want..." she slipped under the sheet "...with anyone you want."

Bryon told himself 'a hundred thousand credits' over and over...then he wasn't telling himself anything at all.
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As the crowded shuttle docked at the military base Bryon slid into the well worn enviro-suit. He was just one more anonymous worker when he pulled himself across the docking bay into the corridors of the station.

The ID pass built into the wrist of the suit flashed under yet another scanner, and he pulled himself into another docking bay. Through the thick port he could see the ship; a hydra corvette. His heart thundered in his chest. He passed his wrist under the final scanner. There was a tally display attached to the scanner, which tracked the number of personnel aboard the ship. It read '2'. As he had been told the ID chip hacked the scanner. He passed through the portal onto the ship, and the tally still read '2'.

He hid in a gun turret and waited. The last of the crew were gathering a few bits and pieces, but the guns had already been removed and they were quickly off the ship. It left the dock as scheduled, on autopilot, headed for a refit bay at the shipyard...but it wasn't unmanned as it was supposed to be.

Bryon moved to the bridge. He entered the coordinates into the jump drive console, then reset the auto-pilot. By the time the Boron traffic controllers realized the ship had changed course it was disappearing in a flash of light.
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The Hydra emerged from the gate into Farnham's Legend. An observer would have no way of knowing it jumped there. It could just as easily have been coming from the Boron sector Atreus' Clouds. But there were no observers. There were ships, of course, traders passing through from the adjacent Argon sector, or from the other gate which led to Bala Gi's Joy, headquarters of the most powerful corporation in the universe, Bala Gi Enterprises. They paid him no attention.

The bridge of the Boron ship offered no seats. With their multitude of tentacles Boron crew just needed places to hold on in the barely noticeable gravity field. They could swim effectively through the high pressure methane. Bryon had strapped himself to an anchor point and continued to let the ship steer itself towards the designated coordinates. 'A hundred thousand credits, a hundred thousand credits,' he whispered to himself.

An Argon ship approached, and fell into formation off the starboard beam. Interceptor. A Buster Vanguard.

There was a twinkling in the thick methane atmosphere and a dull pop as the gas was pushed aside. An Argon in an enviro-suit appeared in the middle of the bridge. A heavily tinted visor hid the face within. "Good work kid," said a gruff voice through the short range com. The suited hand reached towards Bryon, holding a credit chip. Bryon tried to be nonchalant as he took the chip and slipped it into his suit's scanner.

"Ten thousand? It was supposed to be a hundred."

"It's a long flight from here in a space suit kid. You bought the Buster. Bargain price. The hack will hold up to ship scanners so you don't have to worry about cops, just don't try to dock it in Argon space. "

Bryon was furious, but he had no chance to speak before the transporter deposited him in his new ship. By the time he reached the cockpit the Hydra was gone.

[Sabrina Bergin]

Nice one Tim.

Though to be fair he's not dead just being kept on a tight leash.
A kid with 100K is likely not to remain focused and I suspect his earnings will improve as he learns and gains respect amongst his new friends.

Also if the buster has any decent software/hardware' at least he can earn a few credits till his friends show up again.

[Song Of Obsidian]

He should have been whispering "Too good to be true, too good to be true..."

As for your hands...maybe we should punish the dogs.

[Timsup2nothin]

He should have been whispering "Too good to be true, too good to be true..."

As for your hands...maybe we should punish the dogs.

One of them took over forty stitches, and the other one was right at the point of choking out by the time I got them loose, so I think they've had enough too.

As to Bryon, I have only begun to reveal how screwed he is. 'Too good to be true' is a great proverb, but have you noticed no one ever mentions a limit on bad?

[Timsup2nothin]

Chapter 1, part 1

I sat in the cockpit of the Buster. In theory I was taking stock of my situation. In practice I was probably just in shock. I had never been so alone in my life. I had never imagined being so alone. Can't dock in Argon space. I stole a warship from the Boron fleet. Everyone I have ever known is either in Argon space or Boron space. The sector around me, a lawless sector; was in fact the only place I had ever been outside of Argon or Boron space.

Eventually I did get focused. Survival mechanism I suppose. The ship at least was in good shape. I ran her up to full throttle. 193 meters per second. The computer showed that as top speed for her class, so her engines were fully tuned for speed. I brought her to stop and spun her in place. Maneuvering thrusters fully tuned as well. I unstrapped and checked the cargo bay. Full compliment of spatial compression units, but an empty cargo hold. The three shield generator bays were filled. They could fit five meg units, but apparently my 'bargain price' didn't cover them. I would have to make do with one meg generators. The transporter device that had beamed me over from the Hydra was bolted into an auxiliary port; nice piece of hardware.

I donned a spacesuit for an external inspection.

Four impulse ray emitters, two on each wing. Apparently there had been some concern about how I would take to being screwed out of ninety thousand credits. I connected the IRE power cables that had been left hanging loose. Two particle accelerator cannons were fixed to the hull. I connected them also. She was well armed, for an interceptor. I'm sure a skilled fighter pilot would be able to do quite a bit with her. Unfortunately, not only was I not skilled, I couldn't even guess what I would do if I were skilled. The only thing I wanted to do was hunt down the bastu who left me here, but even though the Hydra was unarmed I knew this ship could never punch through her shields.

I activated the transporter device and it deposited me in the suit locker. I hung the suit and returned to the cockpit.

I did the final checkouts. Fire control software; good. Missile defense system software; good, but no mosquito missiles aboard. No missiles of any kind aboard in fact, launch tube indicators showing empty. Trading system loaded into the main computer, which would allow me to trade if I could find someone to trade with. Not much you can trade if you can't dock though.

I activated the navigation console and opened the sector map. Two stations indicated; a teladianium forge showing Boron ownership, and a plankton farm showing Teladi ownership. I pondered the odd reversal there, but immediately realized that neither station was likely to have any significant Argon contingent. Even though the autopilot indicated docking available at either one I wasn't interested in landing somewhere that required an enviro-suit to get off the ship. I set course for Elena's Fortune.
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Being in Argon space wasn't a relief. A military base loomed large, and I wasn't interested in putting a lot of trust in 'the hack will hold up to ship scanners' so I steered a wide curve around any military or police ships that showed on my scanners. I made it across the sector without incident, but leaving Argon space wasn't a relief either.

The region between Elena's Fortune and Aladana Hill is know as 'Pirate's Alley'. Of course I had never been there, or even near there, but even all the way in OmLy its reputation was well known. Finding myself in Pirate's Alley put a knot in my stomach. But I couldn't think of anywhere else to go.

My scanners showed nothing but an assortment of trade ships, plying obvious trade lanes to gates visible in the distance. I opted for the more heavily traveled lane and set course towards a gate. A station came into scanner range. A Paranid food fab, where I would not likely be welcomed and would certainly not be comfortable. I watched the scanner warily, but arrived at the gate without incident.

Passing through to the next sector put me in scanner range of another odd station; a Paranid jewelery factory registering Argon ownership. I checked the autopilot, which registered docking available. The station docks accepted my ship at least as far as the cursory interaction with the autopilot went. What would happen if I actually docked the ship remained to be seen. I had to find out eventually, and the possibility of walking in an Argon norm grav field, without an enviro-suit, was irresistible. I engaged the autopilot's docking sequencer and warily monitored the coms for signs of alarm.

Minutes passed uneventfully. The autopilot guided the Buster down the approach path into the docking clamps. The boarding canopy engaged. I saw no unusual activity in the nearly deserted docking bay, which was posted as an Argon environment area. It was the moment of truth.

I left the ship, trying to walk as I thought I had always walked rather than the furtive paranoid walk I imagined a criminal would fall into. I don't know how successful I was, but I did manage not to break into a run when a shout came from behind me, an Argon voice saying "Pilot! Hold up there!"

Truthfully, the only thing that kept me from running was that I had nowhere to go.
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I turned slowly, spreading my hands away from my body. No point letting a trigger happy cop have an easy excuse for gunning me down. I don't know what surprised me more; that they weren't cops, or what they were.

A dark skinned Argon man, in a business suit, who was possibly the shortest full grown man I have ever seen, was trying to maintain dignity while scampering to keep up with the long strides of a towering Paranid. They were not brandishing weapons, and they weren't flashing badges. My heart started slowly climbing back up into my chest.

The Argon, who introduced himself as Jo Gisler, manages the station, and he introduced the Paranid Elkamdatket as his operations manager. I suppose it makes sense that there would be a lot of Paranid working on the station and a Paranid executive to direct them. As I looked up at Elkamdatket, who inclined his head just enough for his three eyes to peek over the top of his rebreather mask, I couldn't help but wonder how an Argon manager could ride herd, so to speak, on such a work force.

They were so cordial that I was nearly melting with relief, then I turned to ice. "We scanned your ship," said the station manager. I just stared. They didn't seem to have any sidearms, but with Elkamdatket why would they need any? "It seems very fast, and has sufficient capacity. We need your assistance."

I would have helped them with anything at that point. When it turned out that all they needed was someone to pick up a shipment of cartography chips and they would pay me a million credits to do it I ran for my ship.
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I brought the Buster into the docking clamps manually. It was clear that every second counted. Jo Gisler and a technician waited anxiously in the docking bay with a transport trolley. I punched commands into the freight bay control console and crates began sliding along the boarding canopy. The technician was stacking them onto the trolley, and Gisler handed over a case filled with credit chips.

"Various denominations. I realize someone in your position wouldn't want it all in one chip," he said. I wouldn't? Apparently I looked confused. "We did scan your ship. You had to know your hack isn't that good."

"Uh, yeah, I knew that," I stammered out. They knew, and they hired me anyway?

"Look, this is lawless territory, and lots of people come here who don't want to say too much about where they came from. We needed a pilot with a fast ship and you came along. That's all that matters here. As long as you aren't on the ten most wanted list or something, likely to bring down heavy heat, you're welcome here." The loading was finished and he turned to board the trolley.

"Thanks," I said as he pulled away. I couldn't possibly fit the gratitude I felt into one word.
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I stashed most of my credit chips aboard the ship, then set out for the rec deck of the station. Even if there were a lot of Paranid workers I was sure there would be plenty of Argon as well. I wasn't disappointed. The rec deck had plenty of shops, small bars, and eateries. It was very spacious, with ceilings high enough to accommodate the many Paranids who mixed with their smaller co-workers in what to me was amazing ease. Argon and Paranid gravity norms are not too much different, and while they couldn't breathe the same air only a rebreather was needed, not a full enviro-suit. But it had never occurred to me they could get along.

I settled at a bar and ordered some food and a drink. No whiskey. I wasn't going to let myself forget the part drinking had played in getting me into this mess. The waitress was cute, and looked up with speculation in her eyes when I passed over a credit chip that would cover a substantial tab, but I wasn't going to forget the main thing that had gotten me into this mess either. I rested my elbows on the bar and watched a sports highlights show on the vid screen on the far wall until my food arrived.

I was about three bites in when I noticed the hush in the bar, allowing the low sound from the vid screen to come through clearly.

"...arters was completely destroyed in the blast. We have vid from one of their security ships showing the entire engagement with the terrorists."

I looked over my shoulder at the screen just in time to see a Boron Hydra emerge from a gate. The ship's shields were glowing dully, indicating that they had absorbed just about all the punishment they could take. A capital ship emerged in pursuit and the reporter identified it as a pirate vessel of a make familiar in lawless areas of the universe. A fair number of smaller craft blossomed from the gate as well, immediately firing on the Hydra. Security forces swept in from all directions, and I recognized the corporate logo of Bala Gi Enterprises. The pirates were quickly put on the defensive, and the Hydra arced clear of the battle.

The camera view shifted, apparently to a turret gun, as the ship that was the source of the vid engaged the pirates. This turret was on the wrong side of the ship, and for lack of anything better to do it tracked the Hydra. The Hydra which I was horrified to recognize as the ship I had stolen from Kingdom End. The Hydra which curved between two outlying stations in the massive Bala Gi Enterprises complex and exploded.

The vid cut to an Argon head; typical vid-net anchor. "Authorities estimate from the force of the blast that the Boron Hydra carried no less than a thousand nuclear warheads. While thirty percent of the complex was not destroyed outright, a failure in the isolation systems led to total depressurization and the loss of all personnel. Following the mysterious disappearances of founder Bala Gi and chief engineer Mahi Ma, this catastrophy effectively puts an end to Bala Gi Enterprises. Businesses across the universe, particularly in foundation guild territory, are digging in, anticipating severe repercussions.

"Now let's go live to Kingdom End, where Kaleen Marts has a new development on the story. Kaleen."

A new head appeared. Another typical of the vid-nets; young, attractive, big eyes with the not quite smile of reporting serious news that still managed to flash her white even teeth.

"Yes Jon, we're here in Kingdom End, where Boron authorities have confirmed that the Hydra used to destroy Bala Gi Headquarters was stolen here, en route to a routine refit at the shipyard. Details of the hijacking have not been released, though sources have confirmed that the ship was unmanned and the hijacking took place without loss of life."

A third face appeared on the screen, looming huge over the bar. Not the typical vid-net head.

The lilting voice of Kaleen Marts continued, "Boron authorities are seeking this man, Bryon Danna of Omicron Lyrae, for questioning."

I was face to face with myself, staring slack jawed. But I was aware that many heads around me were turning back and forth in recognition.
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I did mention it was going to get worse. Got some credits though.

[Timsup2nothin]

Chapter 1, part 2

I recovered quickly, driven by survival instinct I guess. I looked around the bar and no one met my eyes. They live and work in a lawless sector, but for the most part I was among normal people who just worked for a living. They weren't hardened criminals and it was a fair bet none of them could even conceive of committing an atrocity like they had just seen on the vid. The mistake I could make would be letting them know I was no different, and afraid of them. That would be the only thing that allowed them to not be afraid of me. I moved for the door, not hurrying, giving people time to move far out of my path.

Once I reached the main corridor I hurried towards the docking bay. Most people who saw that vid would be staying where they saw it waiting for more news, never thinking the face on the screen could be right around a corner on their own station. People in the corridors hadn't seen it, so to them I was just another face in the crowd. But there were people who would have recognized me when they saw it, and they would be on the move.

They were ahead of me. Jo Gisler stood at the foot of the boarding canopy, with Elkamdatket towering beside him. I slowed, but kept going straight towards them, looking as dangerous as I knew how. A strange sound rumbled from the barrel chest of Elkamdatket. Belatedly I realized he was laughing at me. I sagged to a stop.

"I said you couldn't bring down heavy heat," Gisler said, "yet here you are."

I couldn't think of anything clever to say, so I just sighed and mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"Obviously you didn't know," he said. "You have the street smarts of a maja snail, but no one involved in that would be within ten sectors if they knew they were involved. I'm guessing someone duped you into stealing the ship and has happily left you in the bag. But you helped us so I'm not going to be the one to hand the bag to the cops."

A glimmer of hope started deep inside me somewhere, but it quickly died.

"There is no way to hide that you were here," boomed the Paranid, "and we will have to cooperate. The authorities will not allow anything less. We will be turning over your ship ID scans."

My heart was sinking further.

Jo Gisler took a step closer. "You must leave, now, and there will be no safe harbors for this ship, unless you get a better hack. Hili Fa. There is a base in Freedom's Reach, sort of a trading center for pirates. Hili Fa will be there. He can hack your ship."

I bounded down the boarding canopy, and it was withdrawing even before I had the hatch fully dogged down. I fled.
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In Freedom's Reach I skirted a Teladi trading station and wandered out in the direction Jo Gisler had suggested. The thought that it could be a trap crossed my mind, but was followed by the dismal fact that I had nowhere else to turn. Lights glowed from a structure, and I steered towards it.

When I was in communication range I set the com unit for no vid and hailed the station, which looked more like the wreckage left by a pile up collision of transports. "Split say, why you not show your face?" Came from the speakers.

Rather than add complications to the Split's limited thought processes I told the truth, "So you won't know what I look like, since that knowledge would only bring you trouble. I seek a Boron, Hili Fa."

"You may dock. Do not attempt to leave your ship."

"Acknowledged."

I followed a set of approach beacons into what had been the hanger bay of one of the wrecked transports. The hanger doors sealed, and a Boron space suit emerged from an access.

"The hanger is not pressurized," a high pitched voice said from the com unit. "put on a suit and meet the Boron at your airlock." When the outer hatch cycled open the Boron floated just outside. A tendril extended from his suit and touched my helmet. "Direct suit to suit. We will not be overheard. Why do you seek this Boron?"
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Hili Fa explained the key points of hacking a ship. The ship computer identified her pilot through his personal identity chip. He provided me with a new identity chip and set the ship's computer to that. Having two ID chips in close proximity programmed to the same DNA would be problematic, so my own ID chip went into an isolation unit. He said I should just destroy it, but I couldn't bring myself to that.

The next issue was hull identifiers. These didn't broadcast, but were read through docking interfaces. The Buster Vanguard's hull identifiers were blanked. That would be attributed to an interface problem, sometimes leading to deeper investigation but usually not, except at Argon docks. Argon docks, Argon ship, there shouldn't be an interface problem. So at an Argon dock the blanks fairly screamed 'stolen ship'. Hili Fa installed what he called a 'self referent coding'. The hull identifier would infect the dock software and return confirmation from the Argon ship registries verifying the ship had been purchased by the identity in her computer...mine.

So I was in the clear, except of course for my face. Not much to be done about that though. I paid Hili Fa for all this work, and for one additional thing. He did an electromag trace analysis on the hull identifiers.

"The ship belonged to a company in Ore Belt, an independent mining company. The Boron consulted the Argon registry, which shows the ship recycled at the Argon shipyard in Cloud Base South East."

"Well, clearly that didn't happen," I said.

"Obviously not. This is not unusual, though normally the ship would be fitted with new hull identifiers, which would be readily available to whoever slipped the ship out of the recycling queue at the shipyard. Close scrutiny may reveal that the hull identifiers are newer than the hull, but usually not. Many stolen ships return to service this way."

"So whoever stole this ship could have made it much more serviceable, but didn't."

"That seems to be the case. Infiltration of the shipyard computers could reveal who signed it through recycling. They may be able to tell you why it was done this way."

"More important to me is who had them do it." In my mind I saw a visored enviro-suit, heard a gruff voice. I was partly thinking of revenge. I was also thinking that without some link to the real perpetrators eventually the authorities would be only too happy to close the Bala Gi attack case by convicting me.

"The Boron has a partner. An Argon. That one could infiltrate the shipyard for you, for a price."

The first payment on Mikal Braks price involved a Teladi prisoner transport. He was on his way to Company Pride as a guest of Teladi security.

I stayed out of sight and waited while Hili Fa spent my credits. He payed extra to speed up the installation, and in fairly short order we set off at top speed with a freight scanning unit that I couldn't legally use and a life support setup in the cargo bay, where Hili Fa floated in a high pressure tank filled with methane.
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We sped through lawless sectors and caught up with the Toucan in Hatikvah's Faith. I entered a code sequence and the computer shut down all identification; a modification Hili Fa had provided. It was a rare situation where my famous face might be useful, so I turned on the vid and hailed the transport.

"Stand down your engines," I said, as I thought a pirate should.

"You are a fool, you will find no profit here," the Teladi pilot hissed back.

I opened fire with the PACs as I closed range from behind, and stripped their shields by half in the first pass. Spinning the agile Buster I hit the trigger again and energy hammered against the forward quarter of their shields. I opened the com link again. "Power down your transport scrambler and live." The Toucan began shaking as the particle streams punched through the shields and pounded her hull.

"Very well," the Teladi pilot said grimly. "We sssurrender. Take what you will." I locked the transport beam on Mikal Braks and beamed him into the cargo bay that had been prepared to provide Argon conditions. For good measure I also locked onto the mosquito missiles on the transport's launcher deck and took them. What I didn't count on was the scheming Teladi bringing his ship about while I was grabbing the goods. A fragmentation bomb blowing away over half of my meager shielding got my undivided attention and I slammed on the throttles. Spiraling and pounding staccato rhythms on the strafe drive I got the ship out of range with just one more hit and only slight damage to the hull.
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Mikel Braks wasn't the most grateful person ever broken out of jail. Well, maybe he was. I really had no way to know since he was the only person I ever broke out of jail. At any rate, he was shouting at me over the intership coms.

"What were you thinking? That bomb launcher could have blown this ship to atoms, and you just hung there like a target drone!"

Hili Fa broke in. "The pilot got you loose. He was the only pilot available on short notice. You are free and we have an operation. An operation that will pay us well."

"Well I hope we're not in it with this half assed pilot."

I replied for myself. "It's my operation. I'm paying you."

"Great," came the quietly grumbled response. "At least in my cell I'd probably survive." The intership com closed with a click.

I flew into the next sector and brought the ship to a halt, well clear of the traffic lane. I unstrapped and crawled out of the cockpit into the cargo bay, where Argon normal conditions were maintained. I found Mikel Braks standing near the Boron enviro-tank. The airlock portal opened, and Hili Fa floated out in his pressure suit.

Braks turned to me. "Look, I'm sorry about before. Being locked up was a lot of stress. Thanks for getting me loose."

"The Boron thinks that was your first combat engagement," Hili Fa said.

I thought about lying, but to what end? Better to let them know what they were working with. "Yeah. I didn't really set out to be a pirate. I did have training though. I was going to the fleet academy before... well, before things started going wrong."

"Okay. So we've got the beginnings of a fighter pilot, a fairly good ship, an ace hacker, and me," Braks said. "What exactly are we trying to do?"

When I told him he turned slightly pale.

"First thing we need is more shielding for this ship," he said.
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Obviously some liberties here. There was someone at the jewelery looking for a ride to the pirate base which gave me a place to go, and the hacker Hili Fa actually hacked the forge in Danna's Chance for me. I was looking for a way to bring some level of knowledge to our novice pirate and the passing prisoner transport seemed like a good source.

Still a good chunk of the 'day' left, so we'll see how much I can get accomplished.

[Song Of Obsidian]

Yay for liberties taken. Do sympathize with the shielding situation, too. Bad memories of 5 MJ shielding in that Medusa Prototype...

More yay for additional characters. Look forward to getting to know them. Also wonder if little Mati will make an appearance again later, but don't spoil it

[Timsup2nothin]

Chapter 1, part 3

We were sitting in the cargo bay. Actually Mikal and I were sitting. We had the gravity turned down to a minimal setting, and Hili Fa was sort of floating.

On his lower tentacles his pressure suit extruded finlike structures, allowing his lazy paddling motions to get purchase in the thin atmosphere and keep him aloft. I watched in drunken fascination. The Boron pressure suit uses the same technology concepts as a cargo compression unit. Effectively the inner surface, which contains the high pressure methane environment, is compressed to a tiny area so the pressure is offset by the lower pressure on the comparatively huge area of the outside of the suit. A reenforced plasteel helmet completes the containment. Through the plasteel Hili could be seen clearly. The short feeding tentacles on the sides of his head gently waving floating blobs of space fuel in range of his snout.

"So," Mikal said, "Cate will be digging into the records and identify who was on duty when this ship was supposed to be recycled." Cate Halter, he had explained, was his best contact at the shipyard. Hili and I had been stuck on the ship in the hanger bay of the trading station while he made contact. Knowing that patience comes hard he had returned with good news and good whiskey.

"What are the chances she will be able to figure out who stole the ship?" I asked.

"Well, nobody at the shipyard is likely to have been involved in stealing the ship. But someone at the shipyard was involved in hacking the ship so it wouldn't look stolen. That could happen if someone stole the ship and brought it to someone they knew, or it could have been that the owners brought the ship in to sell for scrap and someone at the shipyard bought it, and then sold it."

"Why would they do that?"

"It's called 'curbing' for some reason. The shipyard rep presents the shipyard's offer, but they cut it down to some ridiculous level. Then they explain that the recycle queue is really high, the shipyard is having a technical problem on the scrapway, or some such nonsense and suggest the ship may be worth a little more later...quite a bit later. They do this with a seller they already know needs the money now. Then they help out by buying the ship themselves, with anonymous credit chips. They pay more than the shipyard offer they presented, which is actually less than the shipyard would have paid, on the claim that they can just hang on to the ship for a while and get their money back.

He turned to Hili. "Speaking of curbing, Cate has a Dolphin Hauler that would be great for you. About three hundred thousand."

They both looked at me. "No problem. Let's get this show on the road," I replied.

It seemed strange, even to me, that I was trusting obvious pirates to the point of handing over half a million in credit chips. If it were just Mikal Braks I wouldn't have done it. But being stuck in the cargo bay together had given me a chance to get to know Hili Fa, and learn a lot about Boron in general.

Their nature is formed from their ancestry, who used a common survival strategy among aquatic creatures; they swam in schools. The modern Boron reputation for being 'peaceful' isn't really accurate. They are more like friendly and loyal; oriented towards group goals and group security. Hili Fa was an 'independent contractor', but he had done a lot of work for, and with, Bala Gi Enterprises. He lost most of what could be considered his 'school' in a single stroke. If there is anyone in the universe who wants to find the man responsible for the attack as much as I do, it would be Hili Fa.

And Mikal Braks had been Hili Fa's partner in crime for a long time. So I was trusting him too.
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I flew through the gate into Ore Belt. It's a good place to hide. I flew from one asteroid to another. I don't have a mineral scanner, but no one got close enough to recognize that. My path looked random enough; just coincidence that the next asteroid on my list always led me away from any traffic, particularly police. After what seemed an eternity but wasn't I returned to CBSE and set course for the gate to President's End.

At the gate I circled, waiting my turn in the traffic control queue. Nothing obvious or out of the ordinary about being in range, since the Dolphin Hauler was also in the queue. I activated the transporter unit and beamed the cargo aboard.

I could have parked the ship among the debris in President's End, but the ruined sector was too much of a desolation. Too much a reminder of what I imagined Bala Gi's Joy would look like. It was probably best to get out of Argon space anyway.

I could dock. Hili had set me up with a vid recording of Mikal requesting docking permission. The transmission was severely broken with static and disappeared into snow after a few words...in my voice. All I had to do was run it, apologize for the failure of my vid link, and say whatever I wanted. But I couldn't get off the ship. I figured I could live in the cargo bay adrift just as well as docked. Somehow it was less lonely.

When I unstrapped and crawled out of the cockpit the three shield generators standing on the transport pad surprised me with a friendly greeting. Hili had hacked the data pad with the installation instructions so it recognized my approach and his high pitched voice echoed in the cargo bay; "Good hunting, and be safe!" I couldn't help but smile.

With the gravity adjusted down it wasn't hard to maneuver the larger units, and in a reasonable time I had them installed. They fit more snugly in the shield bays than the one meg units had, and with fifteen megs of shielding I felt much more snug as well.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hit the control stud on the wrist of my spacesuit and beamed back to the Buster. By the time I had shed the suit and crawled into the cockpit my first prize was queued up in the gate traffic. The Vulture held a good number of warheads; her original cargo which her Teladi pilot had ejected before abandoning ship himself. The rest of her cargo bay was filled with energy cells that had spilled from a Paranid Demeter earlier. There were still several crates of e-cells floating nearby, but the Vulture was full.

I had had enough of capturing loose freight anyway. Piloting wearing a space suit made the slightly cramped cockpit of the Teladi ship even tighter. Flying a ship that had recently taken damage from my own PACs, with only a single meg of shielding, was nerve-wracking. The warheads hadn't been too bad, but my Paranid friend had dumped his cargo of e-cells right in the midst of the gate traffic pattern. No point wasting space though, so I completed the task.

The Vulture would hopefully make the transit, on autopilot, and dock at the shield factory in CBSE. Hili Fa and Mikal had a friend who worked in the purchasing department there, who served as their communications link. Mikal was weaving through the underworld of CBSE, and Hili had contracted to supply the shield factory; doubly useful since it gave him access to their products. It also provided a convenient place to transfer cargo of...questionable origin.

Hili would dispose of the Vulture's cargo. Then Cate Halter would dispose of the ship.

My job was simple. Provide the prizes. And stay alive.
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Been long on story and short on game here, but that's part of the 'restart' condition. It's not really like a new start, even though I isolated Bryon from all my accumulated credits and equipment, since he gets million credit plus mission offers everywhere he looks.

But even with that I still have just...well, three ships now. Hili Fa's Dolphin Hauler is CLS hauling e-cells to the Med Shield Complex and eagerly waiting for product. Once the vulture docks I'll add it as a waypoint with some unloads and add waypoints to unload the goods.

There's still a fair amount of time left in the day, but this is all the story there is to tell in it. Pretty much rinse and repeat here for a while. I know where the story goes next, but I want to get some resources before I make that step. Chapter two will be coming soon...pretty soon anyway.

[Timsup2nothin]

Interlude

Mikal Braks slipped into the spacesuit. No one seemed to be paying any attention to him, but he was tense and wary until the anonymity of the helmet closed around his head. He hefted a repair laser and joined three other crewmen as they cycled through the airlock.

He didn't want to stay close to the real shipyard workers. He wasn't highly skilled, and they would probably notice. The carbon score near the nose of the Dolphin was as perfect for his purpose as Hili had said; too small to be anything but a one man job, and a simple enough repair that he could do it well enough to pass inspection. The irony that his partner in piracy would be paying the shipyard for a repair that was being done by his free labor amused him.

Hili floated along in his suit; just a ship owner keeping an eye on the repairs he was paying for. When he got to the nose section of the Dolphin his com tendril snaked out and made contact. "We're in trouble," Mikal said as soon as the link was made.

"The contact cannot identify the source of the Buster?"

"No need. I know who side channeled it. Have you been keeping up with the local news vid feeds?"

"Of course. The Boron doesn't want to operate in the dark any more than you do. The shipyard worker?"

"Yeah. Big story. Found dead in the recycling unit on the trading station. Cate narrowed me down to three possibles and I was checking financials. He was one of them. He was the one."

"And he's dead."

"Yeah." MIkal worked the repair laser silently for a few minutes. "I didn't expect our pilot to survive," he finally said.

"The Boron didn't either. You free of the Teladi, this fine ship, maybe a little swag before he met his end; long term involvement seemed unlikely."

"But here we are."

"Whoever gave him the ship is covering their tracks," Hili Fa sighed.

"Can you blame them?"

"No. You need to get off the shipyard."

"That's a fact. Cate too."

"Cate? Cate would not have been open in her inquiries. You think whoever killed the shipyard worker is good enough to track her?"

"I know they are. A Paranid freighter came in for repairs. Licensed for trading in Argon space, either refugees made good or long term deep cover...the best. Two crewmen spent time in the unsecured areas...friendly, no conflicts, no big mistakes...but I recognized one of them. Alkamkidmon."

"Alkamkidmon? The Boron thought he was dead. Xaar's chosen? What do the Paranid secret police have to do with this?"

"I have no clue, but Alkamkidmon will ferret out Cate...and me. We could give the kid up to Argon security as a distraction. Head for Duke's territory..."

"The kid rescued you from the Teladi."

"We don't have the resources to hide here."

"We are surprised that our pilot has survived. More surprising still, he has provided more resources than you would ever have guessed."

"I know you've been fencing swag, but has he really brought in that much?"

"The Boron has been funneling the credits into a shell company in Kingdom End...we specialize in the Argon trade. Obviously it is time to expand. Hire some locals. If a couple of the new hires have somewhat...fresh...identity chips we would hardly notice. We are Boron after all, and not experts on how Argon live day to day."

"We can't just hire pilots to fly around in salvaged ships. They'll ask questions."

"The Boron didn't say anything about stolen ships. The first step in our expansion would be hiring a purchasing agent to deal with the shipyard. A good job for you...the new you."

"Purchasing agent? Buying ships? Brand new ships? Just how much swag has the kid sent in?"

"About three million worth. The Boron hasn't been able to keep up."

"Great Gunne! The kid I called a target drone?!?"

"The same."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'm going to need pilots eventually (I have a plan!), and I have an obsessive block about sitting on cash credits without reinvesting them. So even Bryon the outlaw is going to have to have some sort of trading operation running.

Never fear though, he isn't just a clone of Patrick Henry duplicating the economic conquest of OmLy in Argon Prime (though that has to get done eventually, by someone). Feel free to post guesses about the plan for him. Someone might turn out to be right, and that would be a bragging point, eh? Heck, someone might give me a better idea.

[Sirrobert]

Is he going to deal weapons/missles?
Might be to high profile for the story, but it'd make it very easy to get weapons without anyone noticing. If you produce them, noone would notice a few missing

[Timsup2nothin]

Interlude 2

Tylon Raynar feathered the controls to align the Nova with the approach beacons. The response was sluggish and he overshot slightly, then corrected. "Shipyard approach," he said into the com link, "Northwest Customs four niner alpha on final approach."

"Roger that four niner alpha. Approach tractors are locked on. We'll bring you in from here. Nice flying."

Tylon shut down the engines, then grinned as he relaxed. Getting the Nova to the shipyard had been a long intense flight. The damage to the hull was so extensive that reaction matter from the port engine was venting sideways intermittently, pushing the ship into an erratic turn that the auto-pilot couldn't compensate for fast enough. He had traveled over a hundred clicks on manual control, with his off hand poised over the eject, half expecting the entire engine cowling to let go at any moment.

The shipyard's systems drew the ship into a hanger bay, and an access tube locked onto the cockpit port. Tylon unstrapped and slid out through the hatch. He pulled himself through the tube and lowered his feet to the deck of the 'mud room', where the transition to gravity occurred. As always he wondered at the origins of the archaic term. He didn't have time for much idle speculation though. At half gravity the compartment door opened and a full commander burst in. Tylon saluted and tried to hide his surprise.

The commander's return salute was more of a wave, and before Tylon could get his hand down papers were thrust into it. "Orders," the commander barked. "There's a shuttle waiting in hanger bay delta seven. Follow the green yellow green guide path." The shipyard computers would illuminate the three color pattern with deck lights that lined the labyrinth of corridors.

Tylon could find out what this was about by reading the orders, probably, but he was too surprised for a simple 'yessir' response. "My ship...' he started.

"Will be repaired. Maybe you'll come back for it, if not it will be reassigned."

Tylon had expected R&R in Argon Prime, at least a shower and a nap. "Departure time for the shuttle, sir?" he asked, bringing up his wrist crono.

"It's waiting for you," the commander said, "so you need to move." Then his face softened. "This doesn't seem fair, and it probably isn't. They want you back at patrol headquarters in Cloudbase, like yesterday, and I can't guess why. But son I know one when I smell it, and there is a shitstorm brewing. And I'm guessing you are gonna wind up right in the thick of it, so you watch your six."

Tylon jogged down the corridors and still barely kept up with the moving sequence of lights. The shuttle turned out to be a Disco with an acceleration couch bolted into the tiny cargo bay. He reported himself strapped in and the ship launched before he got his hand back from the comlink to the armrest.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Typically, after all the rush to get him there he ended up sitting in a conference room at headquarters waiting. He had tried to contact his co-pilot and his gunner, who had both evaced before the long flight to the shipyard, and found out that the Disco had a com block on the cargo bay. When he arrived the shore patrol had respectfully relieved him of his comlink before they dumped him in here. He had resisted the urge to check the door, but had no doubt it was locked.

Eventually the door opened, and a civilian in a suit entered the room carrying a thick file. Tylon didn't need to see the badge to guess, but the man showed it anyway. "Special agent Klee, Fleet Criminal Investigative Service," he said as he sat across the table.

"Exactly what are you investigating?"

"Captain, we aren't investigating you, so just relax. I need you to tell me everything that went on during the Xenon incursion. From the start of your patrol."

Tylon knew that 'we aren't investigating you' was a half truth at best. He couldn't imagine anything that he had done being criminal, so probably he had just been close enough to witness something, but one mistake or inconsistency would bring the full scrutiny of Agent Klee. He met the ice blue stare and knew that scrutiny would be very unpleasant. A lawyer might be able to find out what this was all about before he said anything at all, but getting a lawyer would probably infuriate Klee, who was clearly here for an interrogation, not just a recap. Tylon opted to just tell the story.

He started with the basics. Third watch, preflight check results, his identity and the ID on the rest of his crew, who he was sure had probably already met Mr Klee. Basics of the mission profile, which had started out as a simple patrol. "Then EMon picked up multiple jump beacon signatures."

"EMon?"

He was sure the agent knew what that was, but expanded. "Electromagnetic monitoring."

"At the trading station?"

"Yes. That's where their antennas are. Central location."

"You said 'jump beacon signatures'. The system identifies them?"

"No. EMon is just a relay system. The signals are fed into the computers of the active patrol ships."

"Including yours?"

"Yes."

"Especially yours, since you were the senior officer?"

"All of them, but yes I was the patrol leader."

"So you were the one who interpreted the signals as 'jump beacon signatures'."

Great Gunne! Tylon wanted to scream. Yes it was him who 'interpreted the signals'! Him and everyone else on the patrol! Any cadet in their fifth day of training would have known they were jump beacon signatures, that's what EMon was set up to watch for in the first place! He took a breath. "I made the call, yes. My copilot agreed, and the rest of the flight did also."

"You took a roll call?"

"No I didn't take..."

"So how exactly did they agree?"

"Okay. Let's say that no one disagreed. And thirteen minutes later Xenon started jumping in so I guess we were right."

"No one said that you weren't right."

He wanted to go across the table and knock the smirk off the agent's face. He knew that this was the intention of the interruptions, to rile him up, get him answering without thinking, emotional. He took another breath, deep, blew it out through his nose.

"So the Xenon started jump..."

"What about the thirteen minutes?"

Tylon sighed. This was going to be a long day. He went through the entire routine, step by agonizing step. Reporting the incursion to headquarters. The request for support sent to the docks in Three Worlds. The alarm broadcast on the sector defense channel. Item by agonizing item, with interruptions checking specific wording, exact times, frequency used by the sector defense channel. Then they went through the battle minute by minute. Then they did it all again. Then they moved on to the reports afterwards, and went over them three or four times.

"Let's go back to this payment here," said Agent Klee and pointed to an entry in the disbursement log.

Tylon focused on the number. 364,752 credits. Is that what this is about? There had been cases of fraudulent payments to civilian defense pilots. The navy, or customs, or local police request assistance, there's a reward. Tylon didn't get a bonus for enemies he shot down. It was his job. Sometimes credit for a kill got...misplaced...by a pilot who wasn't interested in career advancement as much as in putting credits in the pocket of a civilian who turned out to be his cousin, or loan shark, or whatever. It was incredibly stupid and as far as Tylon knew everyone who tried it got caught. He lost his temper.

"Look, we were outnumbered...outgunned...badly. My ship came through barely flyable. Three million credits worth of Nova that would have been so much space debris. That guy took down three Ns, three Ms, and the P that was heading the first flight group. Our flight recorders showed it, and he submitted his own vids. There is nothing out of line in that payment, and if you bounce it against the price of that Nova it's credits well spent. Not to mention that ejecting from a Nova under the kind of fire we were taking is a hit or miss proposition..."

"We aren't questioning the payment."

"Then just what the hell are we doing here."

"Who was the pilot?"

"The pilot? A civilian. The payment went to his ID chip, it recorded properly."

"It went to his ship computer, not his ID chip."

"Same thing. His ID was plugged in." Tylon poked a finger at the open file. "It's right there."

"So you didn't know the pilot?"

"No."

"He just answered the sector defense call?"

"Right."

"No flags on his ID?"

"No."

"And the payment was appropriate based on the assistance rendered?"

This was the third or fourth time through all this, and Tylon was running on empty. "Hell yes it was! He earned more, but I guess you don't put any value on my life or the lives of my crew! Just the ship was worth ten times his reward though, so even you and the bean counters should be satisfied."

"Take it easy captain. It isn't the reward we're concerned with here. So you don't know the pilot?"

"I told you, no I don't."

"No idea where he went?"

"None. I had my hands full keeping the scraps I was flying from crashing into things."

"Okay. Sorry to have taken so much of your time."

"What the hell is this about?"

"We got a tip. We're checking Buster Vanguards. Reading back to the DNA on the ID chip."

"Yeah?"

"That pilot was Byron Danna."


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Since It's taking some time finishing out this first day, and the view counter seems to indicate a fair number of lurkers along with Sirrobert, I figured I'd throw in this little bit of 'bonus material' to advance the plot of the story a bit. It should leave you with an interesting question. Chapter two is coming, promise.

[Song Of Obsidian]

Of all the things I could possibly comment on...

"That guy took down three Ns, three Ms, and the P that was heading the first flight group."

"We're checking Buster Vanguards."

That's just sick. This why you didn't wanna do a DiD?