Rogues Resurgence Ch 13: Completed

[SteveMill]

Final part added below the --------------------------------------

Chapter 13: Sowing the Wind

Corrin thrust a steaming mug into his hand as soon as Max appeared. He sipped it automatically and then took another deliberate taste, a broad smile replacing sleep blurred alarm.

“This.” He said, sniffing the mug, “Is the finest java. Fresh ground?”

“Naturally.” Corrin replied. “Three Worlds Blue, terrestrially grown. I managed to get a few kilo’s of the new harvest for our more discriminating and important clientele.”

“Making it tax deductible.” Xela added, a disembodied voice. “Which, as it cost more than a silkworm, is just as well.”

“I like being rich.” Max said. “Is this the emergency? I was sleeping, as ordered.”

“No emergency Max, and you can go bye-bye’s later.” Xela answered sharply. “Watch this. UNN.”

Max took a seat and swivelled to look at the wall display screen. Corrin pulled up another seat and sat beside him as Xela dimmed the lights and ran the recording. It cut in as the Universal News Network logo span away into starry infinity.

“Breaking news from Teladi Gain, breaking news from Teladi Gain.” Intoned a deep male voice. The cloned blonde anchor appeared and flashed a precise smile.

“This in from our on-the-spot observer, Mack Torson.”

The picture shifted, replacing the blonde with a close up of a clan station.

“Stoertebeker’s base.” Xela interjected, the focus zooming onto the massive docking doors as they cracked open.

“Muting commentary.” She said as a string of three Teladi Vulture freighters emerged, followed closely by four Bayamons. “Our Nav-Sat scans showed hundreds of people on board, mostly in the sub-space holds. Watch. Overlaying tactical.”

The focus pulled back, silhouetting the Stoertebeker Base against the looming planetary mass, it orbited. A small moon with it’s own attendants, laser towers Xela highlighted with blue target boxes. More boxes tracked the ships, tiny numbers Corrin could not read, detailing Registration, velocities and shield strengths.

One by one, the LT designators turned red.

One by one the LT’s fired.

One by one the ponderous Vultures winked out.

The Bayamons went evasive, the tiny direction indicator arrows on the designators rotating in tune with their gyrations. Only one made it through the cross-fire to safety.

Corrin stole a glance at Max.

Impassive.

Xela terminated the playback.

“What are they saying Zee?” Max asked after a long silence.

“Teladi sources reported multiple distress calls from the station before all communications went down. Now, nothing.”

“Analysis.”

“Mutiny. Transmissions indicated extensive fighting, internal explosions. Damn, look at this, switching back to live feed, 30 second delay.”

Her tone presaged the event.

The broadcast focused again, tight on the Stoertebeker Base docking port as it split slowly open, the string of green navigation lights flashing to life.

Although he knew whatever he was watching had already happened, Corrin held his breath, unnerved by the AI’s hushed voice.

He expected a flood of ships, already preparing defence plans.

There was a flood.

“Oh no.”

It was his own voice, distant, dismayed.

People, many people, twitching in a crystalline cloud that slowly dissipated into the vacuum.

It was Max that broke the silence, voice calm but blood, one bright red droplet merging with another, oozing from between the fingers of a clenched fist.

“Track that pilot.” He wiped his hand impassively on his fresh flight suit. “Corrin, get Jackson here, get him here now. Get Payter and Kaitrin here too, battle briefing in three hours. Zee, you’re with me.”

He picked up her data-padd.

“Wait a minute Max.” She protested. “You are not going after that pilot.”

“Why not?” He snapped. “His information could be priceless.”

“Damn you Max.” Xela shouted back. “This isn’t your one-man war! You’ve only had a couple of hours sleep, what do you think your reflexes are like? And just don’t get me started on your judgement. It’s three hours to the Memorial so the meeting can wait. Go rest, Corrin and I will bring in that pilot.”

Max opened his mouth to protest.

“Be quiet Max, I mean it, shut up and get some more sleep!”

“Difficult.” Max began. “Dreams..”

“Then sample the bloody product Max and stay away from the damn stims!”

Corrin attempted, unsuccessfully, to become invisible, feeling he was eavesdropping on a family row.

Unexpectedly Max gave in with a resigned shrug.

“Okay Zee, but you’re pushing.”

He turned to Corrin.

“If you can capture the fighter, sell it and mask jump straight back. And keep the pilot in the hold for the flight and then keep him in solitary. No one sees him or speaks to him until I do.”

Corrin nodded his acknowledgement and Max turned to leave.

“Oh Max.” Xela called. “Daht has been on the comm. Apparently the Teladi Company has offered us nine million credits compensation for the, and I quote, unfortunate misunderstanding with the Teladi Gain defence forces. We of course promise not to take the matter further, Corrin accepted on your behalf.”

Max smiled, brief and tight, a calculating gleam in his eye.

“Order three Mamba’s from the Cho’s Defeat shipyards, if they give any trouble invite whoever can say yes over, and give them a generous opening account. Max out the speed but keep the bay extensions cost under ten k. We’ve got the shields and guns right?”

“Left over from the merc base stock.” Xela confirmed. “And bribing people just to win it back! That’s very cute. Sweet dreams Max. Bed, remember?”

Corrin waited until Max left and took the AI data-padd.

“Beware Teladi bearing gifts, lass.” He observed. “Beware Teladi bearing gifts.”

His age he conceded, but cynic he was not.

Max brushed through the casino, ignoring the called greetings and took the elevator straight down to Raiders territory. He wandered through the pilot quarters, passing out personal congratulations gleaned from the post combat debrief.

“Two Bayamons there Harp, way to go!” A clap on the shoulder.

“Glad you made it out kid, ships I can buy, good pilots I can’t.”

A handshake.

He let their mood wash over him, resolute and elated, as they crowded round.

They listened in silence as he described the events.

“When do we go Commander?”

A voice from the back of the pack, soft spoken, with a trace of anger. Max quickly searched his memory, someone recent, poached from one of the private squads? Cropped mousy hair, a little short, ex-fleet, impressive record.

“Soon Summers.”

He paused and thought.

“I’ll tell you what, Monica is it?”

She moved through the scrum to the front and nodded.

“In one hour I want you to lead a flight of four fighters, take both Prometheus’ and a pair of Piranha’s. Organise a maintenance and security team and send them to Menelaus Frontier Trading Station, there’ll be a private bay waiting. Send a couple of B’s as escort, you blockade Stoertebeker. No clan ships in or out. Clear?”

“Yes Commander.” She almost saluted.

“One question. What about civilian registered ships?”

Max barely flinched. “We may be vigilantes Summers, but we’re not murderers. Warn them their safety on the station cannot be guaranteed and let them through. If in doubt, call in. Understood?”

Her shoulders stiffened as she straightened her back. “Understood Commander.”

This time she did salute.

Max found what he was looking for in the Ready Room and recorded a series of messages on separate data chips. He found Kerman in the simulator and handed him the chips. The Paranid listened to his instructions in silence as Max walked him to the flight deck.

Max waited until the Pegasus launched before stumbling back to his cot. This time he slept well, with burning dreams.


“STATION!”

Law repeated the order, bellowing to be heard above the dopplering alert klaxon and the over-lapping chorus of warnings spoken by automatic back-up stations. An explosion rocked the command centre, dislodging a fractured support beam behind him but he didn’t flinch. The lights cut out, flickering back, dim and red, a second later.

He held the stare, bending the soldier to his will. Law watched the resolve stiffen in his eyes and nodded. These were the Palace Guard, their unswerving loyalty bought by credits and cemented by complicity, a complicity now brutally affirmed. They crowded the blast door, a jostling pack. The Argon returned to the Defence Station, hunching over the internal security display.

The mob was close now. Law could feel it’s inchoate roar through the soles of his boots. Beyond the blast door weapons fire grew loader and intensified. There was only so much twenty, even heavily armed, men could do against the unreasoning beast his actions against the deserters had unleashed. And as they fell so was the mob emboldened.

The fighting was right outside now. He nodded to the defence station. The soldier hesitated, his face, tortured indecision, with his finger poised above a flashing yellow touch panel.

“Empty the tanks.” Law commanded. The soldier swallowed hard and touched the panel. It turned red. The fighting outside ceased abruptly.

Law waited a very long minute.

“Vent the section and dispose of the remnants. Enforce extreme martial law and give me a full status report in one hour. I will summon reinforcements.”

**********************************************************


“Take care out there Lover.” Kaitrin added to Corrin’s launch permission. “Try not to scratch the paintwork on the boss’s ship!”

She chuckled at Corrin’s terse reply and turned her attention back to the screen, watching the Mamba streak towards the eastern jumpgate. The atmosphere in the Control Centre was relaxed, almost cheerful now the Remembrance was over. The light casualties helped, operating from the Place Flight Centre rather than the claustrophobic confines of The All-Seeing Eye, helped more.

Spacious, enough room for her to stretch her long legs, good food and drink a finger-snap away.

“How they doing Jonno?” She called down. Her deputy looked up from the screen, thought about speaking through a mouthful of sandwich, thought again and gave a thumbs up. He chewed quickly and swallowed.

“No change. They’ve been on station three hours now, how’s that relief coming?”

He answered his own question, tracking the Vulture on the Family Whi Nav-Sat. Six of the best Raiders pilots rode with the additional supplies for the Menelaus Frontier advance base, another two rode shotgun in Bayamons. Twelve pilots, enough to keep a constant four ship blockade. Eight hours on station, plus transit time, plus all the joy of space-walking to and from the relief transporter. Jonno was, for once, pleased he wasn’t a fighter jock.

With so many pilots devoted to blockading the Stoertebeker Clan station the defence of Scale Plate Green was largely in the hands of the Baby Raiders, as the new recruits, whose history did not earn them an immediate upgrade the full Raider status, had inevitably become known. They were out there now, mock dog-fighting with weapons on minimal power, around the northern jump-gate, as the Commander put them through their paces. Their comm. chatter formed a sonic backdrop he and Kaitrin followed with wry amusement.

Endless variants of, ‘Bang bang, you’re dead. No I’m not!’ that Kaitrin attempted to referee.

Jonno finished his sandwich and thought about ordering another, just to see the way the cute blonde hostess sashayed.

Kaitrin reined in her exasperation as two more recruits disputed her call. Men of course, the women accepted defeat without demure.

“There should.” She thought. “Be some sort of drug to couter-act testosterone poisoning.”

Corrin was midway through Nyana’s Hideout now and she scanned the sectors ahead.

“Base to Old Goat One, Base to Old Goat One. Be advised that a flight of Xenon have broken through the Black Hole Sun patrols.”

She quickly calculated relative speeds and distance, factoring in an allowance for the token resistance being offered by the Treasure Chest defenders recently.

“Expect to bump heads around the Treasure Chest western gate.” She cut the mike.

“Jonno, commercial transport inbound. Can you handle it?”

She opened the mike again.

“A pair of XL’s and 3 XM’s lover. I know Max could take them but do you need back-up?”

Her attempt to deadpan was woeful but Corrin dutifully bristled, something about grandfather and eggs she didn’t quite catch as another squabble broke out among the babies.

Corrin acknowledged her hasty good luck before she signed off and listened as the Xela AI ran through the capture procedure again.

“Single shots, keep shields below 5%, I got it the first time lass.”

“I’m used to having to repeat everything twice and V E R Y S L O W L Y for Max.” She replied with a cheerful lilt.

“Can I suggest you time your jump into Treasure Chest so you catch them entering the jumpgate?”

Corrin repeated what he had just told Kaitrin.

The three XM’s he killed before they could disengage their jump sequence. The first XL died after a short, intense, two on one fight. The surviving Xenon Heavy Fighter took nearly five minutes to wear down before it’s target designator turned from red to blue.

Ignoring Xela’s observation concerning beginners luck he escorted it back to the Omicron Lyrae Equipment Dock, keeping a wary eye on the Buster fighters predatorily circling.


“Unacceptable!” Director Morn roved her glare around the table, fixing each wavering ally as if by will alone she could transform the numbers.

“Unacceptable!”

“The will of the Teladi Trading Company must be made known.” General Daht hissed.

Her glare turned to venom, it was returned in equal, excoriating measure and she realised now, what true hatred was. It burned in her blood, it was bitter bile in her stomach, acid and churning.

That this male should dare, that he should dare!

He was smiling now, a thin, smug curl of the lips. Smug in the certain knowledge that her proxies were streaming away by the hour and firm allies were caught in the flood as millions of Teladi stock holders conveyed their opinion on the Stoertebeker calamity.

Smug in the knowledge that a considerable number of those stock were now voted by himself and his rebellious coterie.

Her control of the Board was precarious now, balanced on the blade of a knife, maintained only by proxies shifted to her own allies, allies that could only be emboldened, by the sea change the actions of her Clan ally and her own misjudgements had triggered, to press their own interests.

To the victor goes the spoils, as does the task of writing history. And victory had been snatched from her by the blatant connivance of Daht with the human, Force.

To the extent of jeopardising his own life.

To the extent of risking a civil war that, with fierce irony, had been extinguished by the disloyalty of her own forces.

Her own forces! Hah! She had not realised, until now, why it was so right to look with scorn upon those who had forsworn the pursuit of profit to defend the interests of the Company. Loyalty that could not be bought, loyalty that could be won and held by traitors to everything the Teladi stood for, traitors like Daht and his fire-dreams of destiny.

The Greater Teladi Empire! Starships, soldiers, death and glory! The egg-dreams of children!

She realised her teeth were so clenched her jaws ached.

The rage inside, the wild primitive urge to lash out, the colder desire to summon her own people and have them kill them all.

But that was not how the Teladi did business anymore, that is why they had embraced the wise hand of the market, made it the font and cornerstone of their civilisation.

Daht would return us to that chaos, would lead the Teladi to put the first claw on that route, one small step after another until lives, resources and profit opportunities were piled high, a pyre to his vain-glory.

And now he wanted to force her to declare the Stoertebeker Clan true outlaws. The cutting of losses, the first glorious battle.

No! This she could not permit, not when so much of her own profits were rooted in that soil.

And not before the Enterprise opened up a flood of profits that would raise the stock of the Trading Company to unheard of, monopolistic heights.

‘Now,’ she thought bitterly. ‘That is something to make Teladi blood sing!’

Her secret knowledge would sway the vote if shared, every dark eye would glitter but a secret shared is no secret and this was one she clutched to her own breast-bone, savouring it and protecting it through the years as if her life depended on it’s security.

Which it did. Powerful allies do fearsome enemies make.

Her eyes flickered coldly around the big table, over the assembled sector directors.

“Unacceptable.”

The word fell into a vacuum of silence, interrupted by the sharp tap of a single clawed digit on the hard wood. Tap, tap, tap. Even the rhythm was insolent, demanding.

“The Company recognises the Director for Scale Plate Green.” Morn hissed.

The General hauled himself to his feet, slowly, calculatingly allowing his massive presence to permeate the room. The weight of ancient wounds, the weight of the honours festooning his chest.

Vulgar and pointed.

“The Teladi alliance with thisss perssson sserves no profitable purposse.”

Morn observed the impact of his words upon her fellow directors with a frozen glance.

Support, hostility, careful masks of impenetrability.

Many more of the latter.

“Debacle followsss debacle and now Law threatensss the livesss of all of usss here gathered. Unprofitable enterprises mussst be shut down, losses mussst be cut.”

Daht raised himself to his full height and then leaned forward, his claws tearing into the veneer. He slowly swept the table with his own solemn stare, presaging the importance of his words.

“Or management replaced.”

He paused again, for dramatic effect, the intense focus of attention.

“It isss the Teladi way, the profitable way.”

If she possessed a weapon she would have drawn it then, drawn it and seared away the foetid hypocrisy. Instead she swallowed the bile, it burned her throat like the effort burned her true Teladi spirit.

“The Company hasss never concerned itself with the internal affairs of the Clansss.”

Rage trembled her voice, an almost imperceptible carrier wave, conveying her outrage at just the suggestion that tradition be flouted in such a manner.

“Sssuch an action would lead to war among the clanss, a war that would be fought in our spaccce, on our worldsss. And our losses in an attack on a Clan station would be expensive. Thoussands of innocents would die!”

“Hundredsss.” Daht corrected. “We have witnessed the ships fleeing the station. We have heard the distress callsss. We could sstrike now with minimum loss of innocent livesss, there will never be a better time.”

There was a chance here, Morn realised, a chance to stem his advance, if he would just over-reach himself.

“Your plan?” she asked, her neutral tone seasoned with resignation. Just a touch, just a sprinkle of salt to stimulate the taste buds.

“How ssshould we enforce such a change? Who mussst we place on the Stoertebeker throne?”

She could see the effort he made to keep his features neutral as he slipped a data chip into his terminal but as the presentation proceeded the mask slipped. Morn fed out the rope with a series of questions concerning military dispositions and projected casualties the frontal assault would entail. Daht responded with growing enthusiasm as Morn watched the faces round the table, watching certainty turn to doubt and then fear.

“Ssso?” She interjected when her political instincts, honed in conflicts every bit as tempering as those Daht’s chest of baubles testified to, told her the time was right.

“The loss of a Teladi Company carrier, and over fifty fighters is deemed acceptable? For what end? To destroy the station, to put your own puppet on the throne? Who would it be General, Maximilian Forcce, Jackssson of the Confederation?”

She had their full attention now.

“Or some other set of humansss? And what then? On how many other headsss do unworthy crownsss rest? Skull?”

She stopped, not wanting to press too far although victory now would be easy.

The room was silent now, an intense silence. Daht, she could see, dimly comprehended that his moment of triumph was slipping through his claws, like so much clutched sand. Morn fancied she could hear the vein that throbbed so prominently in his throat.

“You have your compensssation General and your allies have their ten million creditsss. Anguish assuaged. I move the Teladi Trading Company respectsss tradition, let Clansss mind their own businesss, settle their own affairsss.”

Morn paused as if only now assessing the relative strength of her own and Daht’s faction, searching the faces of the unaligned. She played with her data-padd, ostensibly comparing the balance of proxy votes each side carried although she knew the answer from her poll of faces.

Too close to call, which was why she ceased pressing her case.

Daht’s face showed his clumsy military brain had groped towards the same conclusion. Morn moved swiftly.

“The issue isss in balanccce. The Company will not move againssst the Stoertebeker Clan but will offer no obstacles to those within or outside the Clan who sseek to replace Law. If he isss fit he will survive.”

She spoke directly to the General.

“Should your alliesss prove fit, so be it. My judgement isss they cannot prevail, my judgement iss Law iss too sstrong. His station is just the tip of a sword that if drawn will slash all our profitsss. Sso much destruction. Will anyone sspeak againssst neutrality in thisss coming war?”

The sense of the Board was clear now, clear in the discomfited faces of those who doubted her leadership, clear in the faces of those who cleaved to Daht. Clear to Daht himself.

No-one spoke.

“Then it iss agreed. All Directors will abstain from aiding or hindering either side outside of normal commercial relationshipsss.”

That was a concession, a small one, recognising her inability to deny Force legitimate access to trade facilities, legitimising the fact her allies and their proxies admirable lust for short term profits would drive them to court Force. It was the best Daht could achieve and for her, it was better than the victory she could have won. Force might win skirmish after skirmish but he could not conquer a defended clan station without using weapons of mass destruction. And if he did, well, some victories, he would find, come with too high a price.

Then there was the Black Heart, the Stoertebeker Command Carrier, light minutes from the Teladi Gain gate complex, far from detection. It was only a converted transporter, an Albatross, but it was crammed with fighters. Not crammed, Morn corrected herself, not after recent events, but it would be again and she would make more profits.

She almost smiled. Let Force waste his strength on Law’s shield wall, meanwhile the Enterprise would proceed. The loss of the human explorer was a blow, but not mortal. They did not know where they had found the mother-lode, thanks to Force, but they knew, from months of reports, where it was not and where, generally, he had last looked before his unexpected return. They had waited years, they could wait the months it would take to mount another more focused search, provided the Xenon continued to cede the sector.

When the board dispersed back to their respective holdings Morn turned her mind to the previously unthinkable. Should the Black Heart acquire a jump-drive, Force and his petty fleet would soon cease to exist. But how to get one of the closely monitored devices to him and how to retain control? It was one thing for Nibris to subvert one of her own commercial transporters, but delivering a jump-drive into the direct hands of a single clan, even though the technology was sealed beyond the ability of anyone but the Goner Temple scientists to tamper with, that was another fraught step entirely.

Could she contemplate such an action? Morn did not know. She could though, contemplate such a contemplation, and did so as she opened a secure channel to her Paranid contact.

___________________________________________________

Daht eased himself into the booth and allowed the seating to adjust itself to both his Teladi physiology and his bulk, the hidden compressors wheezing softly under the strain. It was a sound the two humans appeared to find faintly amusing, to judge from the veiled smiles and the General made a mental note to investigate the issue later. For now he just performed the hand touching ritual and exchanged inconsequential personal information.

Both Corrin and Force it seemed, were in good health, although Force appeared to be having some difficulty with the lighting levels that obliged him to constantly wear eye-protectors. Evolution, as every Teladi knew, had been particularly ungenerous to humans. They lacked tails, nictitating eyelids or genitals of any size worth mentioning, without any concomitant advantages, if you discounted their ability to reproduce like bacteria.

He eschewed the offer of refreshments but waited patiently whilst human females delivered a selection of foods and liquids to the table. Finally, Corrin activated the privacy shield, muting the discord of the casino to a subdued murmur and Daht described the Teladi Board meeting in detail.

“So.” Corrin summarised. “You won an undertaking from the Board not to interfere with whatever actions we want to take against Law? And that includes Director Morn in Teladi Gain itself?”

On Daht’s nodded confirmation Corrin grinned broadly, clearly delighted at the news, but his knowledge of human facial gestures was too thin to interpret the tight, reflexive twitch of Force’s lips.

“A level playing field Max.” There was clearly a personal element to the older human’s enthusiasm for conflict. Daht could see the hatred in his eyes. Force responded with another, almost imperceptible smile. The General realised that without the eyes it was impossible to even guess what humans were thinking. He cautiously wondered whether the protectors were a deliberate deception.

After Daht left for his transport Max ordered champagne.

“The best.”

Corrin specified the type and vintage and it arrived a few minutes later, in an old fashioned silver cooler of crushed ice.

“To victory!” Max toasted, looking happier than Corrin had seen him in awhile.

Corrin returned it cautiously as he quietly examined the situation, going over it in his mind, like a jeweller assaying a fine stone, looking for tiny imperfections. The blockade of Law was going well, in that the few freighters attempting to reach the station had turned back at the first challenge. No fighters had sallied to their aid and none had attempted to reinforce the base.

The station itself remained impregnable behind a shield wall of defence towers.

“You know Law must have a lot of off-station assets?” Corrin stated.

“And four ships operating from Boron space won’t be able to prevent them getting through?” Max finished for him. “I know. Wait a second.”

He produced the Xela AI data-padd and slipped her chip into the interface.

“Hi Zee, Daht’s gone so you can come out to play.”

Max repeated what Daht had told them.

Xela repeated Corrin’s own doubts about the efficacy of the blockade.

“Which is why I sent Kerman to place an order for an Argon Chip Fab. You said you wanted one. We’ll deploy it in Teladi Gain and make it the front-line Raiders base. We can rely on Jackson’s people, sector security and elements of the Baby Raiders to keep the Place safe.”

“I wish,” Corrin said slowly, “You’d discuss this sort of thing first Max.”

“Problem?”

“No.” Corrin shrugged. “No problem, but it would be nice to be consulted every now and then.”

Max considered the statement for a second and shrugged in turn.

“Okay Corrin, you’re right.”

He produced a small gun metal pipe and crumbled dried leaves into the bowl. It self-ignited as he inhaled. Corrin said nothing.

Max relaxed back into the booth, wreathed in aromatic smoke.

“Anyone fancy a dessert? No?”

He summoned a hostess with a casual wave, ordered fruit pie and waited until she was outside the privacy field before continuing.

“Okay. Let’s make plans. Corrin, all those Babies I took out, they’re ready for promotion if the background checks pan out.”

“They’re as clean as we can tell Max.” Corrin replied. “I’ll let the Sarge know.”

“Excellent.” Max said with a smile. “And it’s time we upgraded from those damn Bayamons. How are we doing for credits Zee?”

The pie arrived while she was tapping into the station information net and negotiating the security protocols. Max spread a generous dollop of cream and attacked it with gusto.

“A damn fine cherry pie!” He exclaimed with boyish enthusiasm. “Damn fine. Do we grow the stuff here?”

“You can barely grow them on Argon Prime Max.” Xela answered. “Which if they stem from an Earth ship hydroponics tank like the Goner say, isn’t surprising. Try and chew, there’s a good boy, that slice cost more than most people clear in a week. Factoring in the new station and assuming we swap that XL for an Eel we have three million credits, with change, not enough for a fleet upgrade. But, we’re getting a steady income from the spaceweed and factory orders are flooding in. We’ll be able to run another convoy soon but we need to funnel Jackson’s little donation into our accounts.”

“Progress?” Corrin asked.

“Slow.” Xela admitted. “Bankers are deeply untrusting. I confess to being shocked!”

“What can we do?” Max interjected.

“We need a set of encrypted access codes matched to an access point. Each sub-component of planetary banking systems has its own unique patterns. If we had just one we could slip the transfer in among the legitimate traffic. Some splits and shuffles and it’ll take the tax man months to catch on.”

“And where can we acquire these codes lass?” Corrin asked.

“My virtual shoulders are shrugging boys.” Xela replied. “Artur? Jackson?”

“Jackson?” Max said. “I could ask I suppose.” He sounded doubtful, knowing that the authorities went to great lengths to ensure information of this nature could not fall into mischievous hands.

“Failing that, if I had direct physical access and a custom interface, I might be able to hack it. The emphasis is on the ‘might’ here guys. We need to find Artur.”

Max demurred.

“I don’t think he wants to be found and I don’t want to lead Law’s spies to him. Make plans for a direct break-in and I’ll talk with our piratical friend.”

He took another hit from the pipe.

“Corrin, get that XL to a Boron yard and bring back an Eel. They’re damn slow ships though. Zee, how are we for those three Mamba’s from Cho’s Defeat?

“Ours when we can pay Max.” Xela replied. “Organics are so easily bribed.”

“Great.” Max nodded, turning to Corrin. “How we doing on that Stoertebeker pilot?”

“Matter of time Max, matter of time.” Corrin answered.

“He was making for Atreus Clouds but the Boron whacked him. Sinas has him in custody and Kerman is out in the Pegasus picking him up. You think he can help us get close to Law right?”

“We have to find a way past those LT’s.” Max replied. “A frontal assault would be costly. When Kerman gets back let me know. I’ll take the prisoner with me to Confed Station.”

Corrin raised a brow in query.

“Saves all those awkward questions about human rights and false imprisonment!” He smiled.

“If you say so Max.” Corrin answered. If Max noticed the tone he gave no sign.

“Right then.” Max said, clapping his hands. “It’s agreed. Corrin, great job on the XL. You up for some more while I square things with Jackson?”

Corrin grinned and nodded.

“Excellent! Any other business? No. Then let’s party!”

He did, with enthusiasm.

[Mercenary]

Excellent again..

Sounds like Law is having some real internal trouble Not many people left to support him... makes me wonder if anyone would want to work with him after this

[Adamskini]

yay \o/

[Moss]

Good read again Steve nice to see Max getting his act back together and to see Law slowly losing his keep it coming.

[KiwiNZ]

EEEEEKKKK

This reads like Law realy needs to vanish soon. Spacing his own people is nothing one teknds to attrak a lot of new friends with, is it?

As Moss said, good to see Max getting it back together. though, I am not totally convinced yet ... re his decision with the Menelaus Frontier blockade.

Excellent chapter, yet again

[Faze]

Way to go Steve.

[Gandalf The White]

Excelent again Steve. Looks like another major scrap or at the least, a friendly chat with the pilet is in order.

[Thalass]

Well, I didn't read that. Why you? ask (as if it matters)

'cos I'm about 7 chapters behind! *sobs* and I can't go back into the old forums now to find it, and I haven't d/loaded the forums history yet either!


*waaaah!* *sob*

*sniffle*


Ok. I'll get my arse into gear! geez, some people are pushy! lol

[SteveMill]

Well, I didn't read that. Why you? ask (as if it matters)

'cos I'm about 7 chapters behind! *sobs* and I can't go back into the old forums now to find it, and I haven't d/loaded the forums history yet either!


*waaaah!* *sob*

*sniffle*


Ok. I'll get my arse into gear! geez, some people are pushy! lol

rogue rtf in the email. I have it in acrobat version but its 900k instead of 170k, let me know if you want it.

[Al]

Great stuff Steve. Cant wait for the next bit.

al

[Deleted User]

Good stuff again Steve.

IO

[Deleted User]

A lot of work,great read and only 50 views deserves a lot more.

[SteveMill]

A lot of work,great read and only 50 views deserves a lot more.

Thanks - most of those are just me and the handful of readers checking posts I guess. More ot come soon.

[Al]

Bump. Should be more views and replies than this. And maybe even prompt Steve to hurry up next section

Al

[SteveMill]

Bump. Should be more views and replies than this. And maybe even prompt Steve to hurry up next section

Al

Thanks Al,

there does seem to be a tide of spam sweeping more worthy threads under the mat on this new board. Next bit is well under way and will be with you tomorrow, or possibly today even.

[Al]

Glad to hear it and hopefully the crap will slow down soon allowing decent posts such as your story to remain in sight for more than a day.

Failing that we'll just have to keep bumping it up....

Al

[Moss]

Well i've been seaching for the next part on an almost daily basis, ready when you are Steve

[spikey]

Cracking stuff again Steve, when do we get part 2 for our entertainment?

Spikes

[SteveMill]

Part 2 added below the ******************************, hope you like it.

[Al]

Great stuff Steve. Bit of a change to have the fighting going on in the board room!

One thing I noticed: "allies that could only be emboldened to press their own interests by the sea change the actions of her Clan ally" I cant make sense of this, although it could be my own illiteracy thats the problem

Al