Rogues Testament Ch 15. completed

[SteveMill]

Part 3 added below the ---------------.

Chapter Fifteen: Black Hearts

Morn watched the Black Heart attack from her own, private Tactical Tank, deep within the bowels of the Teladi Gain Trading Station, tiny fighters flitting around her as she moved, a god-like colossus, through the holographic model of the sector.

Force was prepared, alerted by Daht to the imminent arrival of the Stoertebeker Transport Carrier, long before it came within detection range of his commercial Nav-Sat.

Conveying secret military data to potentially hostile aliens.

‘Who?’ Morn mused with a thin reptilian smile. ‘Would have imagined a respected Teladi war hero could countenance such a betrayal for blatantly sectarian ends?’ The ploy had cost her one of her most important agents, long burrowed deep under the skin of the General’s organisation, but it was worth it. Loose ends came so easily unravelled if not taken care of.

The strike went almost entirely as she anticipated. The Black Heart swept past the Force construction site, disgorging a stream of fighters as it pivoted for another pass. On cue the Force fleet lurking just beyond the Ceo’s Buckzoid jump-gate leapt through to join the handful of fighters guarding the almost operational Chip Fab. This too, Morn expected, already rehearsing her bitter regret at the ease with which unknown saboteurs had been able to disable her own communications, preventing her from issuing Law a warning.

The operational Laser Towers were something she had not anticipated, noting again Force’s remarkable ingenuity as they sliced through Law’s fighters and pounded on the shields of the Albatross as it laboured to escape. Force’s smaller, but efficiently organised defenders quickly obliged Law’s fighters to join their mothership in the head-long flight to the safety of his Station.

Force, his Mamba highlighted in case there was an unexpected bonus for her to savour, fought like a demon, destroying three fighters and harrying the fleeing attackers right up to and within the protective shelter of the Stoertebeker base LT screen, rolling from their slashing beams and sweeping pulse streams with preternatural reflexes before withdrawing.

Morn consulted her chronometer, the station comm. system would be back on-line shortly. She terminated the holo-display and returned to her offices to await Law’s call. He would be beyond anger, insane, even by his own standards. Morn was confident she would be unable to restrain his rage once he learned of Daht’s treachery.

‘Then, who knows what he might do?’ She thought with cold irony.


Max docked the Mamba in the main Raiders bay instead of his own in a calculated act of bonding. Only two Bayamons lost and both pilots recovered, it was high fives all round and a mass invasion of Corrin’s Casino where prodigious quantities of intoxicants were consumed and considerable chunks of combat bonuses flowed via the gambling tables back into Max’s coffers.

“Chug-a-lug, Max.” Corrin ordered, thrusting a huge, foaming stein into his hand. Max took a heroic draught, killing the glass in one as his pilots chanted and clapped.

“The ability to consume alcohol is not correlated with man-hood.” Xela whispered sardonically through the shades. Max ignored her and snatched another glass from a passing hostess as he scanned the casino for the un-named blonde. She hovered near the roulette wheel with a full tray of complimentary drinks to encourage the misplaced optimism of the assembled gamblers, occasionally darting a glance in his direction.

Max raised his glass in greeting and she flashed a reticent smile in return, provoking an unexpected and hankering twinge in his deadened heart. Flustered by long, unfelt emotion, Max turned to Corrin.

“That girl, the blonde one?” He nodded over his shoulder in her general direction. “Who is she?”

“Which one?” Corrin asked.

“The one by the wheel.” Max replied. “Long hair, well-stacked, nice ass.”

“Enlightened choice of descriptors, Max.” Xela observed sardonically. “You’ve been spending way too much time with your new best friend.”

Max ignored her.

Corrin thought for a moment before replying.

“Tyre. Tyre Annis. Why? You haven’t been encouraging my staff to fraternise have you?”

He caught Max’s discomfited look and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Relax Max. The rule doesn’t apply to you, unless you talk in your sleep.”

“Careless talk costs lives!” Xela quoted mischievously.

“You know her?” He continued.

“Sort of.” Max answered. “Seems like a nice girl. What do we know about her?”

“We did the usual background checks Max.” Corrin said. “She came up clean. No known associates we might disapprove of, and like all my people here, she’s no family and has been in a similar post for over a year. Two criteria which helped filter out potential security risks.” He answered in reply to Max’s unspoken query.

“You can check her file but if memory serves she’s a colonial from Garleth Beta, Treasure Chest. Sick of farmers and earthquakes I guess. If you’re interested, go for it.”

Max shook his head, uncertain.

“I don’t know, Corrin. If I were any one of my enemies, or dubious friends for that matter, I’d try and get to me through a good-looking woman. Oldest trick in the book.”

Corrin separated Max from the jubilant crowd and led him to the private booth. He ordered food and more drinks.

“Max.” He said avuncularly. “She’s been checked out. You shouldn’t let paranoia stand in the way if the universe offers you a clean shot at happiness. Mission or no mission.”

It was something Kaitrin and he had discussed, late at night, suffused in a post-prandial glow that, like lovers the universe over, they wanted to extend to all.

“The love of a good woman, Max.” Corrin added. “Ain’t nothing finer.”

Max shrugged.

“So people say.”

Corrin waited while one of his hosts delivered the food and drink, large steaming, bowls of vegetables, dumplings and marble fat meat in a spiced sauce, fresh baked crusty bread, chocolate-dark beer, redolent with hops and a bottle of twenty year old whisky, with two shot glasses.

“New peasant cuisine, Max.” he said, as his friend poked the melange with his spoon. “It’s all the rage apparently. You mean you’ve never been in love?”

“I don’t know, I guess not.” Max replied with studied casualness.

“If you’re not sure then the answer is no.” Corrin stated. “It’s the greatest feeling in the world. You can’t mistake it.”

Max sighed, weary.

“I can’t remember the last time I felt anything, anything good. I’m running a fire-sale on fear and guilt though.”

His self-mocking smile left his eyes untouched.

Corrin nodded in Tyre’s direction as she crossed back to the bar.

“She’s a nice girl, Max. Give it a go.”

Max tracked her as she went, glimpsing flashes of thigh above stocking tops through the calculatedly cut slits in the long black dress that served as the casino uniform.

“And lust. Plenty of lust.”

“That’s just a side-effect of killing people.” Corrin replied, ignoring the forced note of humour. “You take it from an old soldier.”

Max finished his beer and poured a whisky shot, filling the glass to the brim before tossing it straight down.

“That’s good stuff Max.” Corrin observed. “You might want to savour the complexity before treating it like rot-gut.”

Max poured a second shot, delicately sipping off the meniscus.

“Wood-smoke and peat. It’s always wood-smoke and peat.” He finished the glass.

Corrin moved the bottle out of his reach.

“Seriously Max, I know the Challenger thing has put you into a flat spin and to be honest, I’m not sure I would have made that call, regardless of what Artur said. But it was your call, we weren’t there and if it helps convince Jackson to play along with us then some good will come. You can’t beat yourself up about it forever.”

He checked the time.

“She’s off in a couple of hours, Max. Take her out for an expensive meal, get to know her. If she’s a spy, just don’t tell her anything.”

“And if she’s an assassin?”

“She’s not an assassin Max, she’s just another good-looking woman trying to get ahead.”

“But we could have your security people keep tabs on her?”

“No Max.” Corrin stated, privately appalled. “I’m sorry but I’m not having my staff spied upon. People have rights. Besides, how would she feel if she found out?”

“Okay, I take your point.” Max conceded quickly. “Any objections to me going through her file?”

Corrin shrugged.

“If there was anything to find she wouldn’t be here, but go ahead if it’ll make you feel better. What plans for tomorrow? Hunting?”

“I’ve got an idea how we can get Jackson’s credits.” Max answered, grateful for the change of subject. “I’ve talked it through with Jack and I’ll need the Mamba, Xela and Kerman in the Pegasus to give it legs. I’ll fill you in on it when I’ve checked a few details with Zee.”

“I can hardly wait.” Corrin said without a trace of sarcasm. “If you can pull this off it’ll be one for the history books.”

“If we pull it off correctly, no-one will even know.” Max replied with a smile.

He reached across and poured himself another whisky.

“And thanks for the words okay?” He looked across at Tyre. “You’re right, I should give it a go.”

“I am going to read that file though.”

“Relationships are built on trust Max.” Corrin answered. “But if it’ll put your mind at rest, go ahead.”

Later, Max opened the security files, quickly marking the names of five applicant researchers Jackson had given him as confirmed, bypassing the security checks. They would be the kernel of his clandestine research team, attempting to unravel the knowledge contained in the damaged computer core.

Then he turned to Tyre’s report.


“What exactly are you looking for Max?” Xela asked testily. “I am one of the most sophisticated computers ever conceived. I can count and everything!”

Max looked up from the workstation and grinned.

“And allow you to second guess my idea and claim the credit? No way, so stop distracting me. I might have to use the mute button!”

A chuckle rippled around Corrin’s office where Jackson, Max and Corrin had gathered to detail Max’s undisclosed plan to access the Jackson’s credits without prematurely alerting the authorities.

“A chick with a volume control? You should marry her.” Jackson added, with a mocking grin.

“Where I come from men don’t marry their cousin.” Xela snapped. “And besides, I don’t have a mute option.”

Jack’s reply was cut off by Max’s expression of triumph.

“Here.” A 3D model appeared on the wall-screen, a squat, featureless cube – the standard design for a planetary data hub. “Treasure Chest. Okay Zee, suck it up.”

Xela complied, transferring the data file into her enhanced padd.

“Ah!” She said, almost instantly. “I see what you’re getting at. It’s the ‘how’ that has me stumped.”

“You care to explain lass?” Corrin said.

“It’s simple really.” She replied. “Max was looking for a hub constructed before the development of teleport technology and which has not had the upgraded defence grid installed yet. That’s a massive job, seeing how hubs are constructed.”

“Oh come on Max baby, you don’t think you’re the first person to think of this?” Jackson asked with surprised scorn. “You cannot teleport through those walls, screens or no, too much interference from the materials and all the other defences built into them with people like us in mind. Without a receiving station, you just get gloop at the other end. I know.”

“And here’s a newsflash Max.” Xela added. “They don’t build teleport pads inside data hubs so you can just forget about any of the clever hacking you expected me to pull. Ain’t nothing to hack into.”

“If we smuggle in our own there will be.” Max stated.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess hubs have all sorts of ways of making sure people can’t smuggle unwelcome devices inside.” Jack said. “But hey, this is Max Force, the man with the plan. Let’s here it Max!”

“We’re not going to smuggle one in.” Max answered immediately. “We’re going to deposit one in the vault.”

The on-screen display shimmered under Xela’s control and focused on the single entrance. Highlights appeared around technologies built into the cavernous hallway.

“See these Max? These are scanners. Everything that goes into a hub has it’s atoms rifled through pretty damn closely whether or not it’s a deposit. To be honest Max, I’m a little disappointed. What say you Corrin?”

Corrin stroked his chin as he considered a reply.

“I think it’s brilliant, absolutely brilliant. Well done Max!”

“Scanning remarks for sarcasm.” Xela intoned. “None detected. I recommend taking the Corrin-unit offline for maintenance.”

“Tell them.” Max nodded at Corrin.

“Okay Max, so long as you don’t accuse me of stealing your kudos.” He looked at Jackson and smiled. “Max is going to build a self-powered teleport into something valuable and cloak it using the shadow-skin tech. Right Max?”

“Score yet another for the Maverick Profile!” Max confirmed. “All we need is a mind-numbingly expensive object to vandalise, deposit it in one of the vaults, teleport in with Zee and let her tap into the internal systems.”

He refocused the screen, zooming in on one of the secure storage areas and overlaying a circuit diagram.

“With the right equipment she can access one of these nodes.” He highlighted an internal security data path. “And do the clever stuff. Then I’m rich, rich I tell you!”

“This shadow-tech can do this?” Jackson asked dubiously.

“Probably.” Max answered. “Zee?”

“That’s not what it was designed for, but, depending on the object, probably.”

Jackson digested the reply, his eyes glittering beneath hooded lids.

“And here’s what we’re looking for.” Xela continued. “I pulled this from the net.”

The image changed again, to a roughly cylindrical object, nearly the height of a man. Although the 2D display and the large buttons and dials on the facing surface indicated a technological device the tube was overlain with an incongruous looking wood finish. The rich, dark patina, polished to highlight the whorling grain, suggested it was real hardwood.

“An early colonial protein resequencer dating from the second expansionary wave. Heron’s Nebula according to the catalogue, native hardwood, attributed to Gorman Tantsu. That’s THE Gorman Tantsu for the cultureless among you. It’s insured for nearly 400,000 credits by Hitsu Nagy, a deputy assistant governor in Treasure Chest.”

“Treasure Chest? That’s some coincidence.” Corrin observed.

“Hardly.” Xela replied. “Location was my first search parameter and there are rich people everywhere, even out in the sticks. Where there are the rich, there are rich pickings. Is that not right Jack?”

Jackson ignored the implication.

“Is it for sale?” Corrin asked.

“Doesn’t matter.” Jackson cut in coolly. “I have people who specialise in making irresistible offers.”

“Then that’s settled.” Max jumped in quickly to forestall any moral debate. “Jack, you get the thing here and we’ll figure out how to get a teleport inside. Don’t let it go through customs, we don’t want to rouse any suspicions. That a problem?”

“I run drugs for a living, Max.” Jackson replied.

“Okay then.” Max continued. “Corrin, can you organise a run to the Temple to pick up a pair of transporters?”

He nodded.

“Then that’s settled.” Max stood up to signal the end of the meeting. “We’ll go as soon as the Chip Fab is online. Three days. Corrin, defence plans complete?”

“LT’s and a big chunk of the Raiders on rotation. You want the details?”

Max shook his head.

“Go with what you think. I’ll need the Star for a little side trip, I’ll pick them up in Teladi Gain in a couple of hours. Have Kerman fly the Star, I’ll need him to glower at a few people. I’ll take the Mamba, we should be back in time for you to strip the shadow tech, Zee.”

“Care to share?” Corrin asked.

“I’m going to pay my old friend Rarr a little visit. Trade must be slow with Stoertebeker blockaded so we should be able to come to a profitable understanding. I’ll take Zee, in case anything snatchable flies by.”

Corrin consulted his padd. “The Star is due through here in three hours, she’s running magalit to Omicron Lyrae but I can transfer that to an independent. I’ll have her ready and waiting in TG in two hours Max.”

“Excellent.” Max took up Xela’s data padd. “Okay, let’s get to it guys. Jack, I’ll be in touch. Let me know if there are any problems.”

Jack nodded sardonically.


“Errgh, that’s just not right!” Max shouted above the pounding beat, laden with subsonics he could feel in his diaphragm. Kerman spared the Split-Split Club floorshow a long, jaundiced glare and grunted agreement.

Xela claimed to have been blinded.

Carefully ignoring the questionable cross species gyrations on-stage Max slipped through the sparse crowd to Rarr’s booth.

“You must have one great ass groove working there, Rarr. Don’t you ever get enough jollies?”

“Ah, the redoubtable Max Force.” The corpulent little man smiled thinly, dragging his attention back from the entertainment. Mopping sweat from his brow with a table napkin, he indicated the leviathan Teladi standing behind him and said, “You had better go my dear, Mr Force wants to gouge my margins.”

He delicately sipped amber liquid from a long fluted glass as she left. At Max’s nod, Kerman faded into the background, all eyes suspiciously scanning the club.

“You should work up a stage act, Rarr the Amazing Mentalist. If that suit washes back to white it can be your costume.” Max sneered, taking a seat uninvited and helped himself to Rarr’s drink.

“Whenever you’ve finished being boorish.” Rarr said evenly. “Quiet Mode.”

The privacy shield cocooned the booth in a silence and Max’s internal organs stopped resonating.

“You want to know whether you’ve caused enough trouble to oblige the Profit Share Director and the owners of this Bliss Place to consider a more regular business relationship.”

“And what’s the answer magic man?”

Rarr gestured carelessly towards the bar and a waitress scurried across.

“Pretty thing isn’t she?” Rarr said, taking in her ample and barely clad body with a leer. “Two bottle beers, unopened.”

Any particular brand Sir?” The woman asked, a fain blush suffusing her face and chest as Rarr’s eyes crawled over her.

“Whatever’s cold.” Max answered.

“Talk to her face Max.” Xela whispered. “And they’re not real.”

Rarr concentrated on the stage show until the waitress returned. Max took a bottle and cracked the seal, quickly swallowing half the contents.

“The answer, Rarr.” Max reiterated.

Rarr took a thin black cigarette from a silver case he then proffered to Max, who took one and sniffed it dubiously.

“For goodness sake, just smoke it Max.” Rarr snapped irritably as he sucked the thin black stick to life. “It’s our latest product, I don’t keep poisoned cigarettes just on the off-chance that you’ll drop by.”

Max drew cautiously on the cigarette, igniting it and filling his lungs with bitter smoke. He fought the cough reflex for as long as he could before violently spluttering it over Rarr, who merely smiled indulgently and wiped the spittle from his suit.

The room swayed and colours flooded with intensity as a wave of well-being swept though his body on a tide of chemical suffused blood.

“Excellent, no?” Rarr asked amusedly.

“Excellent, yes!” Max managed to cough out. “That hits spots I never knew needed hitting. You’ve steeped good leaf in the concentrate?”

“Innovate or die, as the Teladi no doubt say.” Rarr answered. “For the very top of the market.”

“Well put me down for a key.” Max said, suppressing an inane grin.

“Just one kilogram Max? I was hoping we could do a lot better than that!” Rarr smiled. “Now that our normal avenues of trade have unexpectedly closed.”

“For personal favours. So your people are in?” Max asked.

“Not quite.” Rarr replied. “They are though, thoroughly disenchanted with Law as a stable business partner. You and your Confederation allies are not the only possible players though. The Skull Clan for instance.”

“People don’t deal directly with the Skulls for some pretty good reasons.” Max observed dryly.

“Yes.” Rarr acknowledged with a scowl. “Their location grants them an unhealthy degree of independence. It makes them, unpredictable. But, unlike your Confederation friends, they can shift product throughout the home sectors. With their main supplier bottled up I am expecting an offer soon.”

Max took another drag, breathing a stream of blue smoke through his nose as he relaxed into the booth. He snuffed the cig between wetted fingers and cooled his throat with the remnants of the first bottle. He cracked the second immediately.

“Expecting or dreading?”

Rarr shrugged and took another sip of his drink.

“As the Teladi say, no profit comes without risk.”

“No pain, no gain, as us humans say.” Max countered.

“I prefer the Teladi homily.” Rarr replied uncomfortably, “But your point is well-understood, not least by my employer.”

“Rock and a hard place?”

“The Skulls make unpredictable partners, Mr Force.” Rarr agreed, wiping his face again. “And a Law, cut out from his profitable role as middleman, makes a very predictable foe.”

“Law won’t be buying any time soon.” Max observed pointedly. “So if you want to shift the stock stuffing your storage bays, Jackson and I are the only game in town. Not a sociopath or amoral savage to be seen.”

“Your inestimable qualities as human beings, against those exacting standards, I concede.” Rarr acknowledged ironically.

He sucked on his smouldering cig and fixed Max with a saucer-eyed stare.

“But should Profit Share shift towards General Daht, which would be the clear implication of a deal with you, there would be consequences. Not the least of these would be a cessation of this station’s supply of swamp plants. I did suggest you established such a presence nearby.” He reminded Max.

“A suggestion you ignored.”

“Other priorities.” Max said. “But if we make a deal you’ll have your swamp plants.”

Max thought for a moment.

“Make it exclusive and I’ll build it right next door and extend the LT umbrella over this place, in case Law and the Skulls come over all unsporting.”

“The decision isn’t mine to make Max, but I’ll throw your offer onto the scales. Matters are finely balanced but falling profits are concentrating minds and you may be a better long term bet.”

“How soon will you know?”

“As I intimated, matters are fluid. Soon. Meanwhile I can fill your holds at six-six per unit. Practically cost.”

“I’m in the business, Rarr.” Max snapped. “I know what cost is. Six Zero.”

“Six Five.” Rarr countered. “And for that I’ll throw in three units of concentrate at ten k.”

“Deal.” Max said instantly. “A pleasure doing business.”

“A pleasure that’s all yours Mr Force. On these margins I find it hard to conceive where the next yacht will come from.”

“My heart bleeds, Rarr.” Max deadpanned.

“Insincerity is an unattractive trait Mr Force.” Rarr returned. “Your cargo will be loaded within the hour, credits in advance of course. As ever, your visit has been a pleasure. Have we any other business?”

“You’ll get your credits as soon as it’s loaded, Rarr and there is one more thing.”

He pushed a data-chip across the table.

“This girl. I want to know who she works for.”

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“That’s the last of it Zee.” Max said unnecessarily as the subspace hold registered full. “So long as the Split don’t get nosy we’ll clear a few hundred thousand profit.”

“They’ve not scanned us once, unless Artur has been pulling strings or Jackson throwing around bribes I think they’re deliberately cutting you slack. You’re a political wildcard they haven’t figured how to play yet, Max.”

“Political?”

“Your links with Daht, our war with Law, your alliance with the Confeds, your private army and space force. You don’t think that makes you politically significant?”

“To the Split? Never gave it any thought.” Max shrugged. He opened a channel to Kerman and ordered the Paranid to launch the Mamba and then requested launch permission for the Star. A few minutes later both ships were heading for the Ceo’s Buckzoid jumpgate.

“Okay Zee, let it out.” Max said, with a heavy air of resignation.

“Get what out, Max?” Her tone had a fine edge.

“You know damn well what.” He snapped. “Tyre.”

“Getting a scumbag like Rarr to run his grubby fingers through the life of a gal whose only crime appears to be a lack of judgement concerning men? How in the universe could I have a problem with that? No, wait, it’s all coming back to me now.”

“One.” She itemised as they plunged through hyperspace. “Rarr is not your friend. No matter what he finds you can’t believe him.”

“Two.” She continued. “Your own people have assured you there is no problem. Don’t you trust them?”

“Three. You are being a damn fool. What if she comes up clean and finds out about your rampant paranoia? Relationships are built on trust.”

“You finished?” Max inquired evenly.

“First, beings like Rarr have contacts we don’t, who knows what they might know? Anything he comes up with we can cross-check. Second, I don’t trust anyone, except you and Paskaal. Third, I don’t trust anyone, except you and Paskaal and not even then if either of you tried to crawl into bed with me. Too much is at stake to take anything on trust.”

“No man is an island, Max.” Xela answered. “Not even a peninsula. If you keep up with that paranoiac, and I’m using that term in a technical sense, attitude, you could lose what could be your one true love along with a few marbles.”

“Too many coulds, ifs and buts to take the risk. And at the risk of being rude, it’s my own damn business.” Max snapped.

“Nothing connected with the mission is your own business, but dammit Max, people worry, I worry about you and the stress you’re under. You drink like a Boron, you smoke way too much of the product, your blood is probably half stims and you’re increasingly prone to making snap decisions without consultation, leaving the rest of us scrabbling to keep up. Back on the Vanguard how long would a pilot like that last under your command?”

“It’s different and you know it. We’re not under military discipline and I need to project an image. Do you think Jackson would be taken in by a crew-cut, spit and polish Marteene?”

Max took a deep breath and continued in a calmer voice.

“And those ‘snap decisions’ are seized opportunities. Maverick Profile, I’m meant to improvise. Are you saying my judgement is impaired?”

“Jackson is blinded by ambition and an incorrigible urge to gamble, Max. No other clan leader would swallow that disillusioned spy shit and call it cake without some damn good proof. And I’m not sure if he’s infected you with the same gambling virus. I’m not questioning your judgement, I just think you’re riding your luck. You need to cut down on the drugs though Max, and I’m saying this as a friend. There are other ways to relax. Tyre for instance. Jumpgate Max.”

Nothing was said as the two ships plunged through hyperspace. As soon as they emerged Max said.

“At the risk of upsetting you Zee, there’s another opportunity that needs seizing.”

He pointed the nose of the Star at the Menelaus Frontier jumpgate. The Mamba banked and took up station on the port side.

“We’re going to Brennan’s Triumph to cut Skull a deal she can’t refuse.”

“This is just what I mean Max.” Xela sighed, audibly. “If I had a head I’d be shaking it forlornly at this very moment. Isn’t it possible for you to go a whole day without taking an insane risk? You blew up her docking bay the last time we passed that way and the Skulls are not exactly renowned for their forgive-and-forget attitude to life’s little travails.”

“She’ll hear me out though, the Skulls aren’t insane psychopaths like Law, they’re rational, self interested psychopaths who use terror as a tactic. They haven’t hit back for my last visit.”

“Fine, think that.” Xela snapped. “Consider me swathed in a warm, comforted glow. At least pick up an escort, there are a couple of back-up Piranha’s in the Menelaus Trading Station.”

“No, if Law pulls another stroke they’ll be needed.” Max disagreed. “Trust me, Zee. The Skulls won’t be in an ass-kicking mood.”

“Trust me, Zee. I just know that one of these days they’ll be the very last words I hear. You do what you want Max, I’m going to work on the specs for your portable transporter.”

The journey to Brennan’s Triumph was one very long silence.

The sector itself was almost deserted, just a three ship CAP around Paradise Station and a couple of Vultures scuttling for the relative safety of the jumpgate to Split Fire. Max ordered Kerman to keep seven klicks from the Skull base and headed on in.

“Heads up.” Xela warned. “Incoming.”

A single Bayamon had peeled off from the circling patrol and was barrelling in on a near intercept course.

“Well, they must have ID’d us by now and they aren’t launching fighters.” Max observed in reply. “They must want to talk.” He could not resist adding. “Just like I figured.”

“Just like you hoped.” Xela corrected. “There is a conceptual difference.” She added, her tone softening. “You sure ride your luck hard Max, but as you didn’t quite say I told you so I’ll try to have a little faith. Now tell me you’re not planning to actually dock.”

“Weren’t you the one encouraging me to relax with attractive young women just now?” Max asked. “I reckon a little face-to-face is what our relationship with Skull needs. I’m prepared to give my all for the cause!”

“You’ve absolutely no idea how old or comely that woman is so I’m going to assume you’re joking, but thank you for the disturbing mental picture.”

“There’s just no pleasing some women.” Max grinned.

“Women are very easy to please Max, which only makes it more of a crime that so few of you actually bother.” Xela answered archly. “All we ask for is some attention paid to our needs every now and then, a little wine and song and our partners to choke down the urge to set criminals running background checks.”

The comm. cut off his sarcastic rejoinder as the Bayamon came into range.

“Destiny Star. Identify your intentions.” The Bayamon pilot sounded human, probably male, but it was impossible to tell for certain what lay beneath the stylised skull of the helmet face mask.

“This is Commander Force, piloting the Destiny Star. Skull needs to talk with me.”

“Skull needs nothing and no-one.” Came the snap reply. “Particularly from you.”

Max sighed, audibly and theatrically.

“Listen buddy, I haven’t got the time or the patience. We both know you ain’t got the clout to make the call so either do it yourself or put me through to someone who can get your boss on the line. Before I get bored and take my once-in-a-lifetime, never-to-be-repeated business offer elsewhere, if you don’t mind.”

There was a long pause, Max imagined he could hear teeth grinding. The clan fighter began circling the Star. Unbidden, Kerman’s Mamba began stalking the Bayamon.

Finally, as Max put the Star into a sweeping orbit of the station, watching the LT’s carefully, the comm. flashed back to life.

At first glance she looked too young to be the near legendary Clan leader. A teenager, but the eyes were deep, knowing, crystal-blue pools and her unswerving gaze sharpened by more experience and knowledge than youth permits. The bone white make-up could also, Max realised, conceal decades of sin.

“Commander Force.” Skull inclined her head in greeting, her voice a deep purr, redolent with promises that cut straight past his brain on the way to points south.

“Oh for goodness sake Max!” Xela snapped, reading his elevated blood pressure. “Care to take a guess who those vocal chords might originally have belonged to?”

“Skull.” Max returned the greeting in a carefully neutral tone. “Permission to dock, we’ve business to discuss. No boom-boom tricks this time. I’ve a hold full of..”

“I have scanned your vessel.” Skull cut in brusquely. “Permission granted. Engage auto-pilot.”

The signal terminated.

“Welcome to my parlour..” Xela muttered. “I’m not even going to waste electrons arguing. Course laid in, auto-pilot engaged.”

Two minutes later the Star had carefully negotiated the half wrecked docking tunnel, still full of vacuum-suited construction teams struggling to patch the gaping, melted holes caused by his previous attack, to a small, bare gun-metal gray docking bay, showing no sign of damage.

A single Teladi guard, firearm sheathed, waited with orders to conduct him to Skull. Max left Xela with instructions to guard the ship, ignored her protests and followed him to an elevator.

Without a word the Teladi led Max through a maze of deserted corridors he tried hard to memorise, just in case. They stopped outside a sliding double door, emerald green against the drab, gray corridor. The doors slid silently open and with a wave of a claw to guard gestured him through into shadows, which abruptly turned to night as the doors shut.

Instinctively Max changed his position and crouched, hand hovering over his holster, listening intensely through the pounding of his heart and wondering for the first time if he had made a fatal error of judgement.

Abruptly another door opened, flooding what was revealed to be a small antechamber, with pearl light. Max stepped through. Two more Teladi guards were waiting in another long, opulent blue corridor, lined with frames ranging from the ornate to the starkly modern.

“Firearm.” One hissed.

Swallowing his unease, Max handed it over, handle first.

“When you leave.” She hissed, slipping the blaster into her belt. “There.”

She gestured down the corridor towards another, larger set of green doors.

With an effort Max pushed Xela’s misgivings to the back of his mind, his own joining them. Adopting an insouciant air, Max strolled down the corridor, pausing to examine some of the framed works, mostly paintings mixed with a selection of Boron aniramas. Max knew nothing about art but recognised many of the names engraved on small gold plates beneath each work.

Famous names, lost names, of incalculable worth.

The doors slid apart as he approached, Max put his shoulders back and stepped confidently through into a cylindrical room, decorated in a baroque fusion of early, Argon colonial and pre-colonial styles, all hardwood encased metal and pastel, edges softened by ornate carvings of real and what he hoped were imaginary creatures. Or at least extinct.

There was no exit, apart from the door he’d just come through. Before he could move the floor trembled, almost imperceptibly. His inner ear told him the room was revolving. When it stopped, the doors slid open and he stepped through, uncomfortably aware he was trapped.

The contrast could not have been more stark. The room was small and disconcertingly cell-like, apart from the pale, reactive coating shimmering the walls.

Two black leather chairs faced each other across a small table.

One was occupied.

“Skull.” He nodded a respectful greeting.

“Commander Maximilian Force.” She answered, emotionless, a bone-white face stark against a blood-red robe and cowl.

“You are now where I want you!”

[Faze]

A good start to the year Steve. Wishing you a happy New Year, and dont leave it so long between posts PLEASE.

[Adamskini]

yay! im not on much lately but its refreshing to read the stories on ere

good job

[Moss]

Excellent as ever Steve, I like the way the money laundering scam seems to be shaping up, well thought out plot there looks as tho it might work too, like Faze said tho, maybe not so long for the next installment, and Happy new year.

[SteveMill]

[Gandalf The White]

Hi Steve,

Excelent. I like it. Very descriptive.
Where is the downloadable version of the first story? Was hoping to convert to text. It used to be in your sig but I can't see yourr sig.

[Gandalf The White]

bump.

[SteveMill]

[Gandalf The White]

Ok. Bump!

[SteveMill]

[Gandalf The White]

Got it thanks. Boy I can understand why you zipped it. 3.8 MB! Am now going to have to find a copy of winzip! haven't got a copy as I hardly ever need it.

[SteveMill]

[Gandalf The White]

Yeh I noticed! The first story when I managed to unzip it is now 7 MB! It's eaten .25 of my 32 MB flash card! I am glad I am getting a bigger one.

I found winzip in the end, the Jaws help had the address for it as Jaws supports the programme.

[Gandalf The White]

Bump. So where is the next bit a?

[SteveMill]