Merc
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The shuttle provided by Creed was one of his own customized ships and, unlike the public transport Tor had used, was heavily armed. The interior was completely refitted, rather than the rows of fully reclining seats this had large comfortable armchairs towards the front with a bar, and sleeping cabins at the rear.
Tor collapsed down and relaxed and looked around taking in the surroundings. The two Paranid guards help themselves to drinks sat a short distance but said very little. Creed appeared a moment later having spoken to the pilots and helped himself to a drink before sitting down opposite to Tor.
“We need to talk business,” Creed announced.
“Yes I have a few questions for you,” Tor responded keenly. He was taking time to reflect on the days’ events. Also on seeing Creed again it had raised a few questions in the back of his mind.
“Good, ask away.”
“I’m moving a lot of fighters, mostly Boron Piranhas. Do you think I’ll get any opposition from the Split?” Tor asked with a look of slight concern.
“Yes,” Creed answered quickly, Tor considered briefly how much the mercenary despised the Split and how much bitterness and venom entered his expression and tone whenever he mentioned their name. “They are wary of large fighter groups moving through their space, certainly in the core sectors,” He paused for a moment, “So much so that they might just attack on the pretence that your ships had all the appearance of an invasion fleet.”
Tor tried to read Creeds expression “Is there an alternative route?”
Creed took a moment to answer, and seemed cautious with his response. “Yes! Through the Paranid sectors to Preacher’s Refuge, Great Trench, Ianamus Zura and Scale Plate Green which will then lead onto Black Hole Sun.”
“Any potential hazards?” Tor felt that Creed was holding something back.
“The sector before Scale Plate Green is still held by the Xenon,” Creed replied slowly and took a sip of the drink.
“The Xenon!” Tor exclaimed, the tone reflected his uncertainty. “That’s not good.”
Creed remembered getting some of his own people to drop navigational satellites in the outer sectors for Tor. “You still haven’t explored very far have you?” Creed asked casually.
“Only as far as Rolk’s Legacy,” Tor sighed, “Anyway I thought the Xenon were cleared out from the main trading routes.”
He gave a slight smirk as he reflected on the earlier attempts to shift the Xenon from one of their major strongholds. “Oh various races have tried, but the Xenon, they somehow just seem to be able to come right back again,” He paused before adding, “Strangely enough since the first encounter with the Khaak, the Xenon have been keeping very quiet. The trade routes through their sectors have been uninterrupted for some time.”
Tor recognized the slight concern in Creeds voice, “Yeah, but are they still there?”
“Yes. They’ve just retreated away from the gates to interplanetary positions and deep space,” Creed glanced across. The ship jolted slightly as the docking clamps released and it began to move away from the transit station.
Tor looked slightly perplexed but interested, “Any idea why?”
“I guess they’re waiting to see what happens next,” Creed answered.
Tor kept his thoughts to himself as he reflected on potential reasons. Then he shrugged his shoulders, “The next thing is supplies, and I don’t mean the everyday stuff.”
“Hmmm, smuggling in the outer sectors is prolific but I would advise against anything the Boron might take strong exception to. You’ve built up a good reputation with them and it would be a shame to destroy it with one stupid act,” Creed glanced over to the two Paranid, “And our friends over there have strict rules on contraband materials so if you want their unswerving loyalty then be careful.”
“I hadn’t been planning on illegal goods, more like spare weapons for ships, spare shields, that kind of thing,” Tor responded quickly.
“The fighters will have available capacity for those things,” Creed answered.
It had almost escaped Tor that, although not vast, all the fighters had the ability to carry a reasonable amount of freight. Combined the total haulage capacity would be several hundred units.
The slight sense of acceleration briefly intensified and then relaxed as the inertial dampeners compensated, accompanied by slight hum from the ion engines that ran through the cabin before fading away.
Tor broke the brief silence by asking, “How many pilots have you managed to hire?”
“Currently I’ve found twenty, but I think you still need another ten, perhaps more and you may consider adding some M-five fighters to your collection,” Creed replied.
“How’s that?” Tor asked out of curiosity.
“A pack of small fast ships can take the sting out of any attack,” Creed replied casually, “They make good scouts and if your coms get taken out they can outrun the enemy and get messages through.”
“I do have a pair of Pegasus ships for that purpose,” Tor responded carefully.
“Great for the messages and scouting, not so good in combat, takes real skill to control especially at the speed those things can get too,” Creed commented.
The conversation died off so Tor took a moment to look back at Argon Prime through one of the port side windows. How fast they were now travelling was difficult to judge, the transit station was a rapidly diminishing spec glinting in the light of the sun. In just a few hours they would arrive at the trading station before picking up the private transport back to the factory and home.
Creed had helped himself to another drink, “Tor there is one thing that I must reprimand you for,” He spoke unenthusiastically, “And this comes from Mr. Belign but I’ll not use his exact, rather choice words, but your use of public transport was, let us say, a bit risky.”
Tor turned with an expression of worried surprise, “Why?”
“The Bloodhearts are still after you, and needless to say your trip to Argon Prime for the presentation was a predictable event. At any time during your transit between the Trading Station, Prima City and back again you were fully exposed to assassination,” Creed gave Tor a serious but thoughtful look, “However as I see it, politics is involved and personally I doubt if Ferans muzzle and leash would have been removed to allow him to get near you.”
“Do you think he would have?”
“If there was no Split interest in the outer sectors then yes he would,” Creed responded, and after a moments pause added, “And by the way someone’s written ‘next time’ on the back of your neck.”
Tor suddenly felt cold and a shiver ran down his spine.
“As I said in the core sectors it’s all politics. Once you get beyond Black Hole Sun the story will be different. Here the merchants pretend to be civilized. Out there goods are at a premium and the cartels will be looking to take control,” Creed commented, “For what it’s worth the President has tried to restrict the allocation of stations to the big corporations to give the little guys, like you, a chance to get established.”
“You don’t think it’ll work?” Tor asked quietly, as he tried to discreetly rub away the writing on the back of his neck. Creed poured him a glass of water and carried it across to him with a napkin.
“It’s amazing how many freighters are lost due to pirate activity,” Creed replied and let the sentence hang, whilst handing Tor the glass and napkin, “Now I’m telling you all this so you are prepared. The list of enemies and potential enemies is extremely long, so you need to make a few trading partners as soon as you get there. And I would suggest you put the War Master Guild motif in the corner of your station logo.”
Tor dipped the paper into the water and then rubbed it across the back of his neck, “Do you think it’ll help?”
“It’s not guaranteed, but will deter the majority of the cartel owners. I can make life difficult for any of them, anywhere in the universe,” Creed answered frankly.
Tor turned and asked, “Has it gone?”
“Yes,” Creed replied. He stepped back to the bar finished his drink and commented, “It’s been a long day for me so if you’ll excuse me I’m going to get some sleep,” With that he headed towards the rear cabins.
Tor helped himself to a drink then dug out his technical datapad and slumping down in a chair opened a console to his station and sat reading the latest supply reports and credit transfers. He took a moment to call up the list of items he was going to transport to the outer sectors.
The lifters in Omicron Lyrae were ready and two had full loads of energy cells, the other two contained a wide assortment of other items including food, medical supplies, and maintenance equipment for both the station and ships.
Tor looked hard at the manifest and began to wonder if he had enough supplies. As he studied the list, Tor reflected on all the conversations he recently had with Creed and the urge to call Caran Belign and the President to say he had changed his mind grew stronger.
He put the technical pad to one side and for a moment put his head in his hands. The dream of becoming a station owner had now been realized but the cost to him personally was more then he could ever of imagined.
What made it worse was having received the station charters’, he somehow felt honour bound to go on despite Creeds rather stark evaluation of what he would find when he got there. ‘Somehow I think I would be better off not knowing what’s out there!’ He thought with some bitterness and took a deep breath as this thought was replaced by the sentiment, ‘forewarned is forearmed,’ but this did not give him any renewed confidence.
He closed down the datapad and helped himself to whatever the bar had to offer, however he was guarded not to drink too much and after a few small glasses he went off to examine the cabins towards the back of the shuttle.
Opening one of the cabin doors he stepped inside and lay down on the bunk. In a short while Tor dropped into a restless sleep.
Once again he found himself on the transport ship to the transit station, this time he was awake and looking around. The cabin crew were serving drinks and happily chatting to the passengers. He turned to look at the passenger next to him and froze.
A dark shadow loomed over him, his eyes widened, he wanted to call out, but when he opened his mouth no sound came out. He saw the glint of steel as a cruel and jagged blade glistened in the cabin lights.
Tor felt himself trying to get free of his seat but he was still strapped in, looking frantically around the cabin, no one seemed to have taken any notice. The cabin crew were still standing, chatting and laughing with the other passengers.
Looking back with panic in his eyes and heart beating fast, the shadow now hung over him and the blade began to fall in a slow leisurely way towards him.
As the knife struck he jerked forward as he was roughly shaken awake by one of the Paranid pilots, “Bad dream?” The voice was not as deep as many of the other Paranid he had spoken to and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes before swinging his legs off the bunk.
Tors’ heart was racing, and he simply nodded whilst trying to breathe slowly and easily.
“We’ve arrived,” The young Paranid commented.
Tor sighed and nodded slowly in understanding then stretched before getting to his feet. The Paranid turned and left the cabin and heard him say, “He’s awake.”
Creeds voice responded, “Good. You both have your instructions. Take Mr. Grall back to his station and keep an eye open for possible trouble. Not that I’m expecting any.”
Tor quickly washed and dried his hands and face to clear the remains of sleep from his eyes and freshen up slightly. He considered that he would wait before taking a shower as it was only a fifteen minute journey from here to his station and he would have access to a change of clothes. Stepping from the cabin he found Creed had already left and the two Paranid were patiently waiting for him.
“Ready?” Asked the young Paranid abruptly.
“Lead the way.” Tor responded as he picked up his case and datapad. The young Paranid went in front and opened the door of the shuttle. A quick survey of the dockside and he stepped out signaling Tor to follow, he wondered how much advantage the Paranid had with the third eye, and whether the middle eye had in someway evolved to see more than normal.
The older silent Paranid followed him and closed the shuttle door. Almost as soon as they cleared the docking ramp the five second warning klaxon sounded and behind him he heard the docking clamps disengage.
The pace was quick and Tor felt as though he was on a quick march down to the main trading docks. He noted that the three of them were drawing curious glances from the traders and other station personnel, and with little surprise. As they stood in the shuttle lift he could see two Perseus ships docked and they had gained a few onlookers. The two Paranids next to him seemed to shuffle uneasily and clearly unhappy with the onlookers but neither spoke. The crowd seemed to be continuously shifting, as some left other arrived to take their place.
Tor considered that the ships were still far too rare in this part of the universe and for a moment had a worry that bringing them here could have invited an opportunist theft. The shuttle lift door opened and they were once again on the march, even before they reached the back of the onlookers the lead Paranid pilot was calling out, “Clear the way!”
People turned and began to separate leaving a gap for them to pass through. Tor heard some muttering and pointing as a few of the crowd recognized him. He lowered his head not wanting to draw attention to himself. The young Paranid approached the first of the two Perseus ships and placed his hand on the palm scanner. A moment later the outer airlock door folder back. He signaled Tor to step in and then followed him.
The older Paranid turned and walked to the second Perseus and opened the door. Behind Tor the outer airlock door closed with a hiss and the inner door opened. Tor moved forward and froze as another Paranid stood up slowly from one of the cabin chairs a blaster in hand.
“It’s okay Tolotomancke, this is Mr. Grall,” Tors’ companion commented quickly.
Tolotomanckes’ face broke into a broad smile and he carefully put away his blaster, “Welcome aboard Mr. Grall.”
“Thanks,” Tor replied cautiously.
The two Paranid pilots went up to the cockpit, Tolotomancke took the pilots seat whilst the young Paranid sat in the co-pilot position. Tor shook his head briefly and reprimanded himself, then tapped on the Paranids shoulder and asked, “Sorry but I didn’t get your name?”
The co-pilot looked up and commented, “You never asked! I’m Lomasmanckebal.”
Tor looked back and ran the name through his mind, “Would you mind if I call you Lomas?”
Lomasmanckebal considered the request as Tolotomancke made the preflight checks and requested departure clearance, “You Argon always have problems with our names.” He observed, “Lomas will do,” And turned back to the control panel.
Tolotomancke glanced across and added, “You can call me Tolo.”
The docking clamps released and the station autopilot took control of the ship. The second Perseus was already being steered towards the outer station doors.
Tor glanced around the cockpit, the layout allowed a single pilot to manage all aspects of the ship with the backup of the co-pilot seat which was dedicated to tactical with emergency steering controls if anything happened to the pilot or the primary flight controls.
As Tor absorbed the details and glanced around the internal cabin he could not help but to smile and nod reassuringly to himself. This was everything he had imagined it would be, and now he was here it looked so much better. One thing he had missed in the recent months was piloting his way around the universe, but there had always been so much he needed to do on the station that he had never found the time. Tor reflected that he would need to get himself a pilot license that allowed him to fly this grade of ship.
Stepping back into the cabin Tor took a long look at the layout, “Are there any snacks on board?” He asked.
“Nothing to suit an Argon palette,” Tolotomancke replied.
Tor sighed and took a seat. The journey was comfortable and quick. Tor had barely managed to accustom himself to his surroundings before they were landing. He returned to the cockpit and watched as the green landing lights flashed and the outer station doors opened. As they passed the gate he felt a deep sense of relief to be back home again.
Both Perseus ships docked in the security section of the station. Tor noticed how many ships were now here including the Piranhas from the Kingdom End shipyard, the dock side looked crowded. The station fighters dedicated to the protection of the bakery were in a significant minority.
The inner and outer airlock doors opened and Tor with his case stepped out purposefully onto the dock side. He thanked both Lomasmanckebal and Tolotomancke before striding off towards the shuttle lift which would take him to the control center and from there he could make his way to his private quarters.
In a little under two hours he was freshened up and back at his desk. His secretary brought him in a tray with a hot meal. He glanced up from the console and said, “Thanks Belea,” And smiled sincerely before glancing back down at the screen.
“Sir?” She asked quietly.
Tor looked up from the console with some surprise, “Yes Belea?”
She looked hesitant, “When you go to the outer sectors, I was wondering if you’ll be needing a secretary?”
Tor looked at her. He had already made up his mind on who he would take along from the station. Even so the question still came as a surprise and he was momentarily lost for an answer. He met her questioning look.
“Are you volunteering?” Tor asked softly.
“If you want me to come along?” Belea answered with another question.
“Belea, please take a seat,” He motioned for her to sit on one of the sofas and stood up slowly.
She looked uncertain but then nodded and took a seat. Tor wondered if he should offer her a drink, as he felt as though he needed one. However he sat down on the chair next to hers.
The walk from the desk to the chair had given him the opportunity to decide how to start the conversation, “Belea. This new station business isn’t what it appears,” He took note of her confused expression and tried a different tack, “To be frank the stations are there to test the Khaak response. They have, seemingly surrendered to us several sectors and then disappeared. No one knows if this is an act of generosity or a trap,” Tor paused, “So for the moment I’m exercising caution, only a skeleton crew to get the factories functioning, and fighter pilots are going to try and protect my interests,” He looked at her almost expecting a question concerning the Khaak, but was glad she did not ask.
“Understand that if everything works in the outer sectors then I will be back here. This is my home and the other stations will have station managers recruited to look after them.” Tor smiled reassuringly. “Of course if you want to work in the outer sectors once the security has been assured then I will be sorry to see you go, but the position is yours,” Tor smiled.
Belea smiled back, “Thank you.”
Tor spoke softly, “If there’s anything else concerning you just say?”
“No.” Belea replied then added, “Tor it’s a pleasure working with you. I know I’ve only been here a few months and I’ve worked in many factories and to be honest you’re the best boss I’ve had so far!”
“Thank you, but I don’t feel like the best boss,” Tor commented, he smiled but could feel his ears get hot and he looked down as he tried to hide the blush. It had never occurred to him to ever think of asking his employees what they thought of him and how he ran the station. It appeared to be running well but considering the recent months he had no idea how well motivated his staff were.
“You’re the only one that has ever treated me like an equal,” She commented honestly.
Tor looked up, an image suddenly sprang into his mind how other factory owners behaved to their staff and he did not like what he was picturing, “Because I’m your boss doesn’t mean I shouldn’t respect you as a person. So if I ever treat you as anything less than equal, tell me.”
Belea smiled and Tor commented, “Unfortunately dinner looks to be getting cold and unless you have anything else you want to ask?” He was not certain if the conversation was meant to be heading somewhere, and for a moment was uncomfortable with where it may end up.
Belea glanced over to the tray and quickly got up, “No Sir. I’m sorry to have taken up so much of your time,” She looked apologetic, turned and headed for the door.
“Belea?” Tor called out gently.
She hesitated, “Yes Sir?”
“Thanks for your support it means a lot to me,” Tor commented and smiled.
Belea turned and smiled back, “That’s okay,” Then left, the door slid shut behind her.
Tor wandered across to the bar, picked up a large tumbler and selected a bottle of single malt. He poured himself a large glass and commented to the air in general, “Sweety we need to have a private chat.”
An acoustic dampening field filled the room. “Looks like some of Creeds charisma has rubbed off on you,” There was a cynical tone in the voice.
“Thanks, I needed that reassurance,” Tor replied sarcastically then added, “So what do you make of all this Khaak business?”
“Personally, I would not go,” Sweety responded.
“Well I could take you with me. You know, pull your chip from the stations interface panel,” Tor stated with a hint of mischief in his grin.
“Go anywhere near that interface panel and I will vent the stations air supply!” Sweety replied curtly.
Tor ignored the tone and asked with a slight hint of necessity, “I think I’m in over my head here, any chance that if I ask you nicely you can help?”
“With your secretary or the outer sectors?” Sweety asked.
“The outer sectors.” Tor replied quickly.
“Pity, if it was the secretary I could have opened an airlock seal.” Sweety responded, “If my understanding and analysis of the data on the Khaak is correct, then Creed is right you will need an edge but from my internal scans, I am not certain that the Perseus ships will be sufficient. Anyway those ships were hired and not bought from the Paranid.”
Tor looked surprised, “What?”
“The invoices from the Paranid are for hiring the ships, and I must say it is a lot cheaper than trying to buy them,” Sweety confirmed. “However it means they are less likely to hang around if there is trouble.”
“Sweety, I need that advantage! So far everything I’ve heard about the Khaak leads me to believe that we will not survive an encounter,” Tor commented then knocked back the whisky.
“There is an AI chip already programmed with an image of me and the Ghojo encrypted data decoder. It is in a case in the bottom draw of your desk and will plug straight into your datapad,” Sweety replied, “Just remember not to lose it!”
“Thanks,” Tor replied, “Are there any supplies that I’m still waiting for?”
“My records indicate you have fifty percent of the total goods. But it would be quicker for you to pick up the missing items on route then await delivery,” Sweety replied.
“Sounds like you want to get rid of me?” Tor asked quickly.
“Well it’s not as if we talk very often any more,” Sweety responded.
Tor put down his glass, and looked uncomfortable, “Sorry, I guess I’ve had a lot on my mind recently.”
“I can tell. I think some time back in open space will help you relax,” Sweety replied gently.
“Well I can probably find any number of excuses to delay but it takes far too much time to assemble a station and I’d rather have a completed one if the Khaak do decide to come back,” Tor had wandered back to one of the chairs and slumped down, “But yes you’re right I do need to spend some time back in the pilot seat,” He paused then added, “Those were fun and exciting days.”
“I am only AI and possibly do not appreciate how almost being killed corresponds to excitement or fun,” Sweety replied.
“Tell me, don’t you ever get bored just telling ships which factory to fly to?” Tor asked, and once again let her previous comment slide as it was always an effort to try and explain emotions. Even so he suspected that Sweety understood really but made it something of a game trying to get him to explain.
“It just occupies some of my sub routines, and I have no concept of boredom!” Sweety responded.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t exercise your full potential. You were designed for a fighter and a rapidly changing situation, not this,” Tor commented.
“Perhaps I find this relaxing,” Sweety replied.
Tor changed the direction of the conversation, “In two Tazura I’m going to get all the ships together and head out and now I get a strong feeling that we really need to have a chat.”
“We are talking now,” Sweety observed. “Anything in particular you want to talk about?”
“I still don’t understand exactly what the Ghojo encryption will give me,” Tor spoke quietly and then added, “The Alien AI did get to you. I know you’ve changed, but I don’t know how.”
“Yes Tor, I have changed and some new part of my programming is grateful that you did not turn me over to the Service when you found out,” Sweety spoke gently.
“It’s Bilyzonus you have to thank,” Tor commented and then took a moment to think before adding, “And Creed,” His mind suddenly took a moment to reflect on a whole series of events, including the statement of Creeds that he owed him. Over the past few month he had begun to know Creed and there was a friendship there but for a brief moment now the thought stole across his mind that Creed somehow knew about Sweetys secret but had not been able to unlock it, so was looking for Tor to tell him. Tor dismissed the idea as Creed had never mentioned anything about the Alien incident. Still he had to ask, “Sweety, did Creed ever try to reactivate you or access any of your files?”
“No. Why?” Sweety replied.
“I just had this wild idea he might somehow have learnt about the Ghojo encryption,” Tor answered casually.
“Not from me,” Sweety answered, “But Creed is, how would you put it, very intelligent and cunning. I guess that is why he is considered so dangerous.”
“Nope, he’s considered dangerous because he has no qualms about killing people,” Tor replied casually.
“Then I would suggest you do not get on the wrong side of him,” Sweety commented.
Tor still reflected on the alien incident and asked, “I’ve never dared to ask this but what really happened to you?”
“I think you would prefer to know how much this enterprise is costing you and how quickly I can recover the expenses,” This time Sweety diverted the conversation.
“No what I would really like to know is what happened to you?” Tor asked again, but knew he would not get an answer. Rising from the seat he then walked over to his desk.
“I estimate that within three Wozura, with the six trading ships running full time I will have recovered the credits used,” Sweety informed him.
“Excellent, I might ask you to put a fighter escort on all traders. Can you factor in what that would cost?” Tor asked and opened the bottom draw. Inside was a small black case marked with static precautions symbols. Taking the case he placed it carefully on his desk.
“How many fighters?” Sweety asked.
“You’re a tactical AI how about you tell me?” Tor responded quietly.
“I see,” Sweety replied in an off hand manner, and paused a moment, “Current pirate activity and ships, I would recommend no less then two M-four class ships to each transport.”
Tor flipped open the latches and opened the case, then popped the back removing the cover on the technical pad. Carefully he placed the chip into the AI socket, “That’s going to be another twelve ships and six and a half million credits.”
“You could look at hiring mercenaries?” Sweety added.
“Hmm,” Tor knew it was the cheap alternative.
“If I may make an observation,” Sweety started, “If you buy another twelve fighters your personal fighter compliment will exceed sixty. For a private owner that is a significant fighting force and you may find Mr. Belign asking for a reduction.”
“He might but it’s a distributed fighting force. I only think he’ll get concerned if it was all concentrated together in one station,” Tor replied and switched on the technical pad, then asked. “So are you on-line?”
“Yes,” Sweety replied through the pad. “As long as we have open comms channels, I will know exactly what the pad knows and in the event that the comms are blocked then I will still be able to advise you.”
“Excellent. Right I need to gather the troops and give the orders!” Tor said as officially as he could, and thought to himself, ‘Now it begins.’
) or can anyone stick a list of links to em all? (too Lazy 