Miss Shirley was indeed taking a swim after work. She had been watching some young Marche on the slides when a large figure broke the line. Why, that bully! I’ll give him a piece of my…Harry?! Shirley waded toward shore to get a better look. It is him! What on Salo? Her already pale complexion went even more pale. Something’s wrong! She ran toward the sand pit, not bothering to dry off.
Daestral are a species quite close to human in appearance, and with minor makeup, and proper clothing, have sometimes found reason to pass for human. Their major physiological difference is a radically different blood chemistry, allowing them to heal from minor injuries with great speed, six digits on their hands and feet, with the extra hand digit being a second opposable thumb. It is not unknown for Daestral to take up human musical instruments or sports, as their hands could give them an edge against human competitors.
Rose waved off further treatment when he saw Brigid and Kaval arriving. The cuts on his face had already dried over “I meant to get away from here and meet you elsewhere” he began, "but he(and here he jerked his head at the Quilliar being taken away) held me up.
John broke in. “You said you’d been ‘getting a signal’ from Dona Salo. Who from? And what do you mean by being ‘traced’?” He looked up at the embassy. “Diplomatic immunity may protect you from prosecution on charges of espionage, but you could get thrown off the station.”
The older man’s face twisted in a peculiar fashion. “Going on the attack, youngster? Making sure I’m worth it? Don’t blame you, but I don’t think this is a good place to talk.”
“Rose” heaved himself to his feet.“But if you want a little 'down payment”(and he leaned forward to look right in Kaval’s eyes, and lowered his voice) who do you think sniffed out that bug and put it on the run in the first place?"
Kaval’s eyes widened. It wasn’t generally know that a virus had been responsible for the recent disasters and vandalism. His shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. “Let’s go then. One thing though, was that you at the memorial? I have a good memory for faces, even disguised ones.”
“That was me. Stupid to expose myself, but seeing Zora, I mean, Adm. Innison, after so long, I couldn’t help myself. I’m getting old and tired.”
“You knew the Admiral? Serve with him?”
“Yeah I did” but Rose did not elaborate.
“Who are you really?”
Brigid had remained quiet until now. “I’m getting older and tireder too, but I’d like to get older, so I suggest we get moving in case someone else takes a shot at you. Names can wait”
Kaval commed ahead to let Security know to look out for their arrival, with a quiet few words for the admiral, and then commandeered an express transport. Rose sat silently as they sped along. By letting himself be “dead” for so long he’d accomplished a lot, but he’d played with people’s emotions too, and wasn’t sure how those who had known him would take it.
Sunk so deeply in his own thoughts he hardly noticed the passage of time, and was almost surprised when the transport halted. He was hustled inside by Kaval, letting Brigid fend for herself this time. She lagged behind but was still able to see Zora as he lunged around a corner and stopped dead in front of the man, the friend he’d thought dead for so long. For a moment the two stared at each other without speaking or moving. Zora Innison finally reached forward and grabbed the six fingered hand of Minas Sulat. In a throaty voice he spoke.
“That extra thumb always gave you good grip in the ball games.”
Sulat’s face twisted again. Daetral also have no tear ducts, so they don’t cry as do humans. Whatever he’d been expecting to hear, it wasn’t this. “I had to do it. I wish there had been a better way…” but Zora interrupted.
“Not now. Later” and he led Sulat away.
John Kaval and Brigid looked at each other in puzzlement, wondering what that was all about.
The group entered the staion’s security offices and once again a dozen or so enlistees and junior officers in the room snapped to attention after one called out: “Attention on deck!”
“At ease. We need to have a word with this embassy worker, but not here. I’d like him to be more comfortable. Any suggestions?”
A lieutenant replied, “Sir! Computech, sir,” then started to give directions.
“That won’t be necessary,” said Kaval. “Follow me, sir.” Zora looked a little suprised and Birgid, noticing this, allowed herself a bit of a smile.
Zora and Kaval spun on a heel and walked out. So did Sulat, out of habit, and Birgid brought up the rear. The four boarded a transport and headed back to the area where Kaval and Birgid had been just a few minutes ago. The door marked with the simple legend and the small foyer that was almost a duplicate of the waiting room outside Cpt. Sturdivant’s office, right down to the young corporal and the spiky leaved crystal plant. After noting that Birgid still had her cip, the young non-com affixed a chip to Sulat’s robes this time. Birgid then started toward the room with the Terran decor, followed by the rest of the group, but Kaval brought the group to a stop early and submitted himself for another retinal scan. Birgid, assuming it was “ladies first” again, entered. Then stopped.
This room was not an imitation of Earth but rather one of Stralae, homeworld of Daestral everywhere. Minas Sulat entered behind Birgid and stepped to her right, his face twisted a third time as he took in the scene–it must have been dawn on Stralae for the “windows” were awash in the blue mists of Montvale–then he sighed and sat down. The other three took seats nearby. “I guess I had better go back to the beginning.”
"I had just made captain when a representative of the Teacher’s Union approached me. I thought it was another of Sten’s jokes at first! No, this guy was the real thing; they were looking for agents to join Laxon, their intelligence division, to keep tabs on TALON once we were able to beat them back. Dona Salo ended up being my station.
Things had been just fine unil recently, when I started hearing rumors of a parasite here on Victory, but these rumors weren’t through my usual channels. At first, I chalked it up to wild speculation, like the story of a invisibilty drug that had been stolen from a TALON-associated lab several years ago. I started getting suspicous when Egon Stang’s record put him in a place that I know he’s never been…"
“What about that signal you mentioned?”
“Oh, right; I’d almost forgotten about that. Ms. O’Connell, I have reason to believe your friend is still alive and caught up in a territory dispute between Marche and Panil.”
“What do you mean, ‘I have reason to believe’ that Eleazar is still alive? And how in the hell would he be caught in between Panil and the Marche? Until a week ago he was working on Gehenna, and didn’t get the call to Dona Salo, for that autopsy, until after I’d left.”
Brigid’s stuttering indignation ground to a halt, and she glared at Sulat.
"Ms. O’Connell, what you don’t know is that Dr. Fujisawa has also been an intelligence agent, just not undercover as I have been. He had his medical duties of course, but he was also a highly trained ‘watcher’ as we of LAXON refer to them. He gathers and stores information, passing it along as requested. " Seeing Brigid’s face begin to cloud up again he went on hastily. “Not about you!. Frak, but you’re paranoid!”
“Can you blame me?”
Sulat sighed. “I guess not. And I’m partially to blame for his current predicament. After the death of that Xavvian, Horiaxav, and what I learned about Col. Stang, I decided that the doctor needed to be seen, for certain reasons, off Gehenna. SoI sent a message for him to come to the station here, for that Renallian’s autopsy.”
Kaval’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. “But sir, the timing, it doesn’t fit, does it? Even with travel records screwed up by the bug, he couldn’t have been on Dona Salo that quickly. Or could he?”
The Daestral’s eyes narrowed in a sign of respect. “Ensign, not many would have been able to figure that out. With so many different time schedules and zones, a discrepancy like that is easy to overlook.” Minas Sulat looked over to Adm. Innison, who had remained quiet until now. “You have a good one here Zora, I’d keep an eye on him.”
Another sigh. "But someone else did notice. What I did was pass myself off as the doctor(it can be done you know), and declare the Renallian(whom I’d also been) officially dead of a stab wound. It got me out of an increasingly difficult position, and let the doctor be seen, not be. I figured I could comm him before the shuttle landed on Dona Salo, and tell him to come on to the station here instead. But like I said, I think my comms were finally traced. Dr. Fujisawa was ‘outed’, so to speak, to the Panil, and through them, to the Marche as well. "
Three voices began to speak at once, but John and Brigid deferred to Zora Innison. “So how did you find out about that?”
“I had one last comm, from our only Marche contact, Seems they are taking responsibility for torching the shuttle, meaning to grab the doctor, and the pilot too, but somehow the Panil beat them to that last. Just because they look or act like bunnies, don’t assume the Marche are soft. And they have some technologies they don’t share. But then I got interrupted by the first Quillar, and had to go on the run, and didn’t get the whole story.”
Still concerned for Eleazar Brigid asked “So where is he now?”
“It’s possible the Marche have sprung him by now. That’s the gist of what little I heard. You may not know it, but the bunnies are native to the planet below, and are pissed about the Panil muscling in and invading their homeland. So they’ll help out the Alliance causes, because it gives them a chance to stick it to the Panil.”
Each member of the little group sat silently for a moment, before Adm. Innsion spoke up again.
“Minas, old friend, I think it’s past time we got Security in here, for a briefing on the current situation. If you don’t mind I’ll also bring in Frankie Sverba, since he will want to know anything new you can tell him about the bug Tali made, and how it may be involved in all this frakkin’ mess.”
“Yep, confused doesn’t begin to describe it, I must admit.” At that Minas started to rise and swayed on his feet.
Concern for his returned friend flashed in Zora’s face. “I’m sorry, I should have known you must be dead on your feet by now. I’ll make arrangements, but get some rest now, eat something. Probably best if you stay in here too, it’s as safe as any place for now.” He hesitated, and began speaking again. “I still want to go over old times though, there’s a lot to catch up on.”
“Me too.”
“Kaval, you stay here too, until relieved.”
“Yes, sir.”
The admiral and Brigid left, with the latter returning to the quarters she’d seen precious little of since she’d been on Victory Station. Her comm light was blinking, but she didn’t notice it.
Outside the “windows”, Stralae’s red sun had risen high enough to burn off the blue mist, revealing a brilliant violet sky which lightens to lavender as the day rolls on. Sulat watched some faint pink clouds drift by and smiled.
While Birgid & Kaval were going to meet “Rose”, Shirley had noticed that Harry was injured. “You’re bleeding! What happened?”
“We tried using the exit where the crate was found. Turned out someone had boobytrapped the area!”
“We need to get you to a doctor.” At that, Shirley heard someone clearing his throat, confirming her sense of somone unseen being present. “Not you.”
Eleazar leaned toward Shirley and whispered in her ear: “Both of us can. Grab your towel and I’ll guide your hands. We’ll make him some bandages.”
As the Panils hurried out of the bar with the slightly psychic decor, Harvey called out, “Leaving so soon?”
If the Panils had eyes, the ones on the one who kicked in the door likely would have been the size of dinnerplates when he realized what must have happened. There was only one trail leading out of the room, that of a Marche–the human was a dead end! He’d have to report this to his boss if it meant they were also on the trail of the cloaking device.
Minas Sulat wasn’t the only one who had heard about the “invisibility drug” but, unlike him, Col. Stang believed in the story enough to have some easily-bought Panils looking for it.
Guided partly by the doctor’s hands and partly by whispered instructions Shirley managed to bind Harry up, using toweling from a couple of other Marche at the waterfall’s pool.
“Whatever possessed you to use the slide when you had barely crusted cuts like that?” she hissed at him. She had just finished her work with a strip on the back of Harry’s furry scalp, where a long ear met the skull. “You’re going to need stitching, or heal-quick, if you want that ear to hold up!”
Harry winced at the thought of disfigured ears, having a straight-up pair was a point of pride to a Marche male.
“We had to get the doctor here away, before the tape you made was found to be on a loop. He has to get up to the station, we owe him that after nearly getting him killed in the shuttle. And it has to be fast, we don’t know how long his shielding will last.”
Eleazar had once done some courier and crystal research, so now he had a question. “You have anyone who can just jaunt me up there with them?”
“A courier you mean?” replied Shirley. “I"m afraid not. For some reason no Marche has ever been able to tolerate hosting a crystal. Our latest volunteer to try, aided by research done at the Swanson-Kenezr Institute, nearly died from rejection syndrome.”
“Well, while we figure a way to smuggle me up to the station, you must have a way to make a comm contact, don’t you?”
Warily, Harry asked “And if we do?”
“If we send a short comm to a private individual, not to Security, that sort of line might be less likely to be tapped into. I could say something that would sound like ordinary chatter, but would let the one I call know it’s me. That way, at least someone would be alerted I’m still among the living.”
Harry got to his feet. “Sounds good to me, but now I think we should get a move on. Maybe we can crate you up, it wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Well, bribing the port officer was fun” giggled Shirley, and the doctor couldn’t help but notice her tail was standing straighter. “Let’s go. Stay between us, if you can. We can run intereference for you.”
Brigid awoke with a feeling of disorientation. As she struggled out of her bed she groaned at the ache in her back. The heavier gravity of the station, and the greater amount of time spent on her feet in it, seemed to be taking their toll. She gulped down a painkiller, although she hated taking meds. The tab was fast acting, and by the time Brigid finished a quick shower she was feeling almost human again. Her greater alertness let her notice that the comm unit was blinking at her, as she shuffled past it.
Clicking it on she noticed only one message, something titled “Improve Your Game!” Figuring it for a porn notice she moved to delete but hit the “accept” button instead. Annoyed, Brigid moved to erase but could help but notice the text started with the words *“Here’s my latest move. Checkmate! Bishop blocks king.” * With a start she rememebered that was the final move in her last game with Eleazar, and wondered what was going on. Scrolling on there was some ordinary chatter, but her eyes widened when the note ended “Let’s get together when I arrive tomorrow evening. Uncle El”
Was this really from Eleazar? The intelligence had bee right? Brigid wanted to jump for joy, even though it was impossible for her. Then, as she calmed down she realized this was something she wasn’t going to be able to handle on her own. The woman sometimes called, behind her back “Frigid Brigid” was going to ask for help. Tapping in a code, after looking it up, she contacted Capt. Sturdivant.
With a start John realized he’d been dozing in his chair. Hoping his nap hadn’t been noticed he glanced over at Minas Sulat, who was still dreamily watching the skies of his homeworld.
Without looking behind him Sulat said “It’s been so long since I’ve been there, been home” he said, and Kaval realized Sulat was aware that the younger man had been dozing.
Just then, a chime sounded, a tone matching the bell flowers of Stralae, and a small white light, indicating a priority call, flickered at the comm. Noting it was from Capt. Sturdivant, Kaval moved to put the call on a speaker, so Sulat could hear as well.
In Non Space, the Brigid/Rose program had finished its preliminary run, coming to the only satisfying conclusion available. The program had decided to enter Real Space.
This required a new set of variables be considered, but time wasn’t an issue. It’ll simply insert into Real Time at the appropriate time and place.
A certain Panil was worried. It had been apprehended by Company Security to ‘discuss’ certain irregularities. Company Security was not well known for subtlety of approach.
“I assume Do’or Sulat is still there?”
“Present,” said Sulat, noting that Sturdivant had used the Daestri equvalent of “mister”.
“We picked up a signal that seemed to be originate from Sana Gien. It contained only the words ‘santa’, ‘potter’, and ‘gasbag’, reapeated a few times then went silent. Might any of this mean something to you?”
“Hmm…can I get back to you?”
“Very well. Sturdivant out.”
“Well, he didn’t sound very happy.” Sulat said to Kaval, then to himself: “Good ol’ Ziggy, always on the ball.”
“Well, I’ll bite” said John. “Who’s “Ziggy”, and why would he be contacting the captain?”
“Signal probably could get in here, but Ziggy probably traced my private transmitter, and knows at least I’m on the station. As to who he is, Ziggy’s another watcher I have had contact with, a bartender.”
“And I presume that was a coded message?”
“Give the man a gold star! Yea, let’s see…” At this point the Daestral’s eyes rolled up, along with a look of concentration that lasted for ten or fifteen seconds. Then Sulat’s face cam back to normal. "Sorry about that, I keep the cypher in a mental “pocket” as it were. Wasn’t safe to write it down. And I won’t explain it just yet. But taken together the meaning is ‘package arrival imminent.’ "
Minas frowned. “It’s odd though, the key meaning ‘through private channels’ was not included, so whatever is on it’s way is coming up by public post on a shuttle. And no indicator to let me know what’s in the frelling package.”
“Maybe” offered Kaval “the sender figured one more ‘package’ would be unremarkable.”
“You have a point there. I think I should call the captain, and fill him in, before heading to the port. And find out what’s keeping Zora, I thought he’d be back by now”
But before he could place the call Capt. Sturdivant was signaling again, and this time he looked pissed.
The Program entered into Real Space and right away sensed something was not right. The Universe’s background radiation was far too hot, indicating it was not the space/time that The Program has targeted. The humanoid body it had chosen was under the attack of forces that few creatures in the entire history of space/time (as defined by Real Time parameters) had ever witnessed.
Looking up into the sky, The Program saw the star that the planet it was on was orbiting was showing signs of severe distress. The star went nova at the same moment of Real Time that The Program escaped back into its Non Space haven.
The Program experienced a sensation it had never known before. It was confused. And a little bit scared.
Kaval was about to put the call on speaker when Sturdivant motioned for him not to. So, Kaval picked up a headset instead; he didn’t say much other than “Sir” and “Yes, sir.”, Sturdivant did most of the talking.
Sulat couldn’t make out much of Sturdy’s side of the conversation, other than his name and a reference to the bug. Kaval threw him a concerned glance, shortly before Sturdy ended the call.
“On your feet. Let’s go.”
Sulat put the glance and the ensign’s current demeanor together and got an idea of what was going on. “It’s that Quillar, isn’t it?” he asked as he stood up.
“Yeah. He says you planted that bug!” Kaval gently prodded Sulat toward the door.
“Preposterous! I was planetside the whole time!”
“But can you prove that?”
“Not yet…”
The Program once again prepared to enter Real Space. Not only did it have the proof of Sulat’s predicament but also the name of an asteroid.
Asteroid Delta, or “D’Roid”, is one of the smaller 'roids in the system. The shorthand name is particularly fitting because its entire operation is automated. It has no humanoid inhabitants except for those who make maintance visits, or at least that’s what those oustide of TALON–and one Program–think.
As Eleazar was being crated, Shirley whispered this in the approximate location of his ear: “‘Shirley’ isn’t exactly my name; it’s the Common equivalent. Maybe one day I can teach you how to say it in Marche.”
“I think I’m going to regret this.” said John, as he and Minas Sulat left Computech.
“What do you mean?” asked the latter, as John caught a public transport, keying in the destination himself.
“Just get in” snapped the younger man. The two rode in silence for a moment, with Sulat wondering at Kaval’s tone. He then noticed that the transport car did not take the turn that would lead most directly to Security offices, where he had presumed they were headed, but instead made a jog that would take them in the general direction of the spaceport.
“Mmm, you want to let me know why we missed the turn?”
John heaved a sigh. “Well, Capt. Sturdivant let me know I am to bring you to have a talk with him. I said I would, but, uh, he didn’t specifically say it has to be right now. I happen to believe you’re on the up and up…”
Sulat made a high pitched snort, a sort of Daestral laugh. “Well, thanks for the confidence, but why would you think that? You may be young, but I don’t think you seem starry-eyed or naive.”
Kaval made a snort of his own. “I’m not, but I am right. Call it a sixth sense, a gut feeling, it’s helped me more than once in the past. We’re going first to the port. It’s my guess that “package” has some kind of bearing on this whole mess. Before we go to Security I’d like to know what that is.”
“I’ve got to admit I’m curious too.”
The sights, sounds and smells of Victory Station buzzed by as their transport buzzed along. They stopped at the port gate and were surprised, just inside, to see Brigid, looking up at an arrivals screen.
“Ms. O’Connell, we’ve got to stop meeting like this” said Kaval, “people will talk”. He meant his words to be a joke, but Brigid hardly spared him a glance.
“Let em” she said, continuing to look at the screen.
Inquiring at an information outlet Kaval and Sulat obtained the gate number for the package shuttle. It was one devoted mainly to freight, not passengers, which didn’t seem surprising, except for the fact a now frowning Brigid had joined them. She chewed her lower lip as she leaned on her cane, as they watched various sorts of containers unloaded and most taken away on anti-grav flats.
When it became apparent that there were no passengers, Brigid muttered to herself “Did I get the arrival time wrong?” in a tone that suggested such a thing was impossible.
Sulat had stepped forward to the shipping supervisor and after a couple of questions laid claim to a long slender crate that resembled nothing so much as a coffin, except that it had four evenly spaced panels that allowed one to slide them open and view the contents, without opening the crate. But none of the panels showed anything inside, which puzzled both men, but not too greatly. Perhaps what had been sent was so small as to be uneasy to view from the panels, although why a small item would be place in a big box was odd.
The crate was of lighter material than it looked, and the two men moved it onto a carrying flat. But as it was set down Kaval had a sudden cramp in his hand and dropped his end onto the flat. A muffled yelp of “Frell, be careful!” came from the interior of the “empty” crate.
But they hardly had time to register the voice before Brigid O’Connell was standing over them.
One reason Daestrals do so good in positions of authority is that they can convey virtually anything they want with a look. Here, Sulat gave Brigid a look that said “don’t say a frelling thing!”
Then a call came from Sturdivant before Brigid could protest. “What the frell is taking so long?”
Meanwhile, D’Roid received some visitors, all clad in black & white uniforms that bore the logo of a painted horse. As a maintenance crew was making its rounds, its crew chief made his way to the operations office for some coffee…and a meeting.
Open areas on D’Roid were virtually pitch black unless sensors picked up body heat, which was the case when maintenance crews were around. Still, to conserve energy, only actively occupied areas were lit. Sometimes this led to a bit of a slow strobe effect when only one person was in an area.
Sensor-triggered corridor lights brightened as the crew chief passed by then slowly dimmed as he moved on. Upon reaching the operations office, he pressed his palm on a panel and a nearby door slid open with soft swoosh. Then the crew chief slid into a high-backed chair at a console labelled Master Control.
“Greetings,” said a tinny voice. “I see my ‘doctors’ are here.”
The crew chief responded, “Hello, Stallion. Just a routine checkup.”
“It could be more routine. I’ve been getting lonely.”
This thing sounds almost human, thought the crew chief, which wasn’t far from the truth. “Stallion” was really Solomon Tali–what was left of him, anyway.
As Jon answered the call from the captain Brigid leaned over the crate and spoke to it, quietly and urgently.
“El! is that you in there?”
There was a moments pause, then a soft groan. “It’s me, Brig. Just get me somewhere safe, will you? Out of sight.” The voice trailed off.
Kaval snapped his comm shut. “That was Capt. Sturdivant. I put him off, but it won’t be for long. We have to get somewhere fast and private, really quick, and figure out what we’re going to give as an excuse. And for the sake of my career it had better be good!”
Brigid was almost babbling. “It looks like there’s been a mixup or something, but I know what’s in your box. We have to get him safe, he was supposed to be dead! Where can we go?”
Seeing the Connell woman talking to an empty shipping crate was odd. But both Kaval and Sulat had seen “odd” before, and decided to humor her. And Kaval, just before he slid the one viewing panel shut, though he saw a flicker of movement, or color, in the box, he wasn’t sure what it was really.
Despite their quiet tones the three were being noticed. Minal Sulat thought fast and leaned towards Brigid, slipping an arm around her waist and opposite arm.
“My dear” he said, just loud enough to be overheard, "I thought you’d never catch on. Shocked, she didn’t move, as he put his mouth close to her ear and whispered “Just play along, dear” Her face blushed flaming red as he nuzzeld the ear, and she tried to reach around and slug him, but found that the arm gripping her was extremely strong.
“I *said *, just play along!” he hissed. Then, in a louder tone, “We’ll go to your place then sweeting”. Turning to Kaval he said “Why don’t you bring the crate too? One never knows what will be needed!” He spun Brigid around and commanded grandly “Just lead the way darling!” Spectators were already turning away. Just another set of lovers it seemed. Space brought out some strange kinks in peoples of all sorts.
As the trio moved away, with Kaval manuvering the carrying flat, Brigid managed a broad smile. She’d figured out the ploy, but still. Leaning further into the embrace, with the grin still on, she whispered to Sulat, “I’m going to kill you for this!” then squealed as he patted her in a strategic place.
“Cap, ya might wanna take a look at this.”
Sean stood up and sauntered over to the security station. “What’s up?”
Alma pointed at her screen. “Here, ‘bout ten degrees off the port bow. Looks like an’ old Cobra tryin’ ta fend off a…well…I don’t rightly know. Sure is big.”
"That Cobra has good defenses, but where are the rest of her armaments?
“Yeah, that’s why I got yer attention.”
“Let’s take a closer look.” Sean then called up to his pilot: “Hey, Max! Ten to port!”
“Ten to port, aye!”
As they got in range, Sean Marcam was able to get a better look at what was going on. He had heard stories of TALON from his dad, a verteran of the Dona skirmish, but never thought he’d see any of that himself. Now, however, he was looking at a TALON-influenced design that was trying its damnedest to blow a Cobra fighter to pieces. Sean stood for a bit then, in a low voice, asked Alma: “What do we have available?”
Alma looked up at her captain. “All on-line and ready,” she said with a bit of a smile.
Sean then looked around, getting reactions from the rest of the crew. Tor and Xi both nodded and headed for their gunner chairs. A “Woo!” came wafting in from the pilot’s seat. “Bout time we get some excitement,” declared Shad.
“Right. Let’s give that Cobra some help. Shad, send in a pod of Razors. Gunners, stand by.”
Frankie Sverba looked up from the instruments in his modified Cobra and saw two pairs of torpedos inbound. What the… he thought, then noticed the torpedos were locked on to his pursuer. The TALON ship had started a diving turn but it was too late; the torpedos impacted aft. The TALON craft slowed as a rain of plasma bolts tore into its upper starboard side. It returned fire but could only manage some weak blasts. Frankie stared in disbelief as predator raplidly became prey, then a well-armed merchant ship came into view and his commlink started chirping.
“Frankie Sverba here, and I’ve never been so glad to see an Independent!”
“Sean Marcam, captain of the Orion. Looks like we showed up just in time.” Sean paused then asked, “You should’ve been a match for that thing. What happened? For that matter, where’s the rest of your crew?”
“No crew, minimal weaponry. This old girl is a personal transport now.”
“What? You operate a four-man fighter yourself?”
Frankie smiled. “I have a little help,” he said as he pulled out his extra arms.
“An Archan! I should’ve known.”
“Whatever I can’t reach from here has been patched through the ship’s computer.”
“Seaaan…” said Shad
Sean gave a curt nod. “You’d best head over to Dimrak for repairs.”
This was a new one for Frankie. “Pardon? ‘Dimrak’?”
“I’ll have some directions sent over. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to have a word with our new ‘friends’.”
Frankie read the directions he received from Alma but they didn’t make sense. They led to the middle of nowhere! He had to put in somewhere soon and it was much closer than Victory Station. Frankie decided to give it a shot, reasoning that the crew which just saved his bacon wouldn’t put him in danger again.
After a few hours, Frankie’s commlink chirped again.
“Dimrak Colony. State your purpose.”
Frankie read from his directions: “Just a weary traveler in need of repairs.”
“Unrecognized pattern. Get lost.”
“Shall I go to Orion?”
After a pause, “Ath! Proceed.”
Frankie continued on the same heading and within minutes picked up a pair of small bots. They were armed and stayed with him until he reached a stationary hunk of rock. Frankie figured the bots’ purpose were two-fold, to gauge the threat level of any newcomer and to direct them to Dimrak.
Frankie’s commlink soon chirped again. “Unknown Cobra, you are cleared to land.”
Dimrak was originally settled as a mining colony but the miners–led by the Denisson, Iishivil, Marcam, Roggis, and Kingery families–discovered catering to smugglers and privateers to be more profitable. Those who used their services ensured that the asteroid its based on remained out of the public eye, and Alliance records.
Frankie’s little Cobra seemed like it barely held together as he set it down in the thin atmosphere. When he disembarked, he ran into a Tharn who had been observing the descent, making notes of what would need to be repaired and estimating the cost of each.
The last thing Darson expected when he was evacuated off Forsetti was to end up in the middle of all this illegal activity. At least, he figured, it was better than being dead and being in Dimrak was certainly interesting. All sorts of interesting beings came through every day! And there was very little danger of Tharnia finding him, until now. Darson had been assigned to the pilot of this damaged Cobra and escort him to Ian Marcam–Sean’s uncle and one of Dimrak’s founders–but this pilot has the unmistakable air of someone associated with the Alliance. He got past the outer defenses, so he’s probably okay, but still…I’d best be careful around him.
Three adults and a coffin sized crate crowded Brigid’s small quarters but they all managed to fit in. Sulat, guessing what might be coming, even managed to disentangle himself from Brigid and was able to move out of range of her cane, as she swung at him.
“Get your six-fingered hands off of me you damned, dirty Daestral!” she hissed.
Kaval moved back a little as well, surprised at her mobility, then, feeling a little “light headed” remembered her rooms were set for low grav. Holding up his hands in a pacifying gesture he reminded her “Shouldn’t we take care of whatever, or whoever, is in the box first?”
Quick remorse made Brigid go even more red in the face and she dropped to her knees beside the shipping crate, searching for the latch that sealed it. But her haste made her clumsy.
Frustrated she called “El, hang on, we’re trying to open this up!” Hearing another groan Brigid wanted to slam her hands on the crate but was afraid of harming her friend.
Warily stepping back into the woman’s reach Sulat asked “May I?” He was rewarded with a cold stare, but Brigid did move back slightly. Sulat applied pressure to two small red squares and with a chuff! the crate lid popped open.
By now Eleazar had returned to full visibility, recovering from a dose the Marche had given him. Helped out of the crate he groaned again, holding his hands to his head. “I feel like I’ve been on the biggest bender of my life” he rasped. He looked around at the faces watching him, two of which he didn’t know “Hi, Brig” he went on, a little more strongly, then to the others, “I’m Dr. Eleazar Fujisawa, and I’m supposed to be dead, I think.”
Brigid guided him to a seat and fetched her friend a cold wet towel for his head. Brigid knew Eleazar was a doctor that hated taking pain pills, and sometimes the simplest remedies are the best. In a quiet voice she introduced Kaval. As she’d learned earlier he was already acquainted with Sulat.
Unable to wait any longer, Kaval spoke up “Doctor, I hate to rush things but we’re in a bind here, or at least *I * am. There’s a rogue virus, TALON, whoever “killed” you, and this gentleman(gesturing at Sulat) standing accused of involvement, I should be with my captain right now. But I had a…hunch…call it, that there’s even more than we know, and that’s why I haven’t turned him over yet for further “discussion” with Capt. Sturdivant. If you don’t mind I need to leave right now.”
“Oh, don’t mind me, Ensign Kaval is it? This captain of yours, he’s in overall charge around here?” At a nod Eleazar went on, speaking to Brigid now. “Brig, you got any Fly Right?”
Surprised by his request for the kind of meds he normally avoided as much as possible, she could only reply in the affirmative. “Got my own prescription, as you well know, *you * made it up for me, and I hate taking them as much as you do! You really want one?”
“Just don’t tell the pharm techs I’m taking someone else’s meds, they’d never let me hear the end of it”
Brigid got the pillpack and shook one out, offering it with a glass of water. But El gulped it dry instead. Fly Right is, as Brigid had experienced it, fast acting, and within a very short period the doctor felt better.
“C’mon”, he urged the others, I think what I have to tell may at least *distract * your captain from chewing your ass out too badly."
“Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in. Glad you could join us, Ensign.”
Kaval winced mentally at the sarcasm in his superiors tone. Why did he have a feeling that mention of his rank was an indication it might shortly change, for the worse?
“Sir, I used my judgement as to how quickly I followed your oders to bring in Do’or Sulat here. I regret it if my judgement was faulty, but…”
“Sorry won’t cut it Ensign. Whatever delayed you had better be good, then I might, just might let you off the hook here.”
Before he could go further his comm blinked and buzzed at the same time, indicating a high degree of urgency. Opening the channel to the comm officer Capt. Sturdivant snarled “I *told * you I was not to be disturbed for any…what?..and towing as well? Yeah, put it on my screen.”
As he tapped a few keys on his comm unit Capt. Sturdivant rolled his eyes over to Kaval. “You’ve got a temporary reprieve, Ensign. Seems one of the independents has caught an interesting fish out there.” How he said the word independent left no doubt as to his opinion of what they really should be called. “The vid is being transferred now. Sound like our old friend Orion"wants to make a deal.”
The roof above the Cobra’s place on the docking platform closed with a whirr. “Welcome to Dimrak Colony; I am Darson. Please, follow me.” The Tharn gestured off toward the location of Marcam’s office. Frankie nodded and the pair strided toward a nearby door. Darson pushed a few button; the door opened to reveal a pressurization chamber and another door. Darson entered, followed by Frankie, and the first door shut, allowing the second door to open. Then they entered a sparse corridor that hadn’t seen much use since the mining operation shut down. “This way.”
After a few minutes of walking, Frankie realized that he hadn’t seen any others since they left the docking platform. He stopped and exclaimed, “What’s going on here?”
“I’ve been instructed to take you to my boss,” came the reply. Then, Darson said in a conspirational tone, “I guess it’s safe here. You’re Alliance, yes?”
Frankie tensed up. “Not exactly.”
“What’s that suppoed to mean?”
“I just work for them. I’m a civilian.”
Darson thought this over a bit then said, “I guess that’s okay…for now. Let’s go.”
Frankie relaxed a bit but didn’t move just yet. Something’s not right here, he thought, then Darson motioned for him to continue.
Darson stopped motioning, moved toward an access door, then motioned again. “Through here,” he said. Frankie still didn’t move. Darson shrugged–a human act that he found quite useful–and opened the door. Frankie saw that it opened to a larger corridor, one with a transparent ceiling that looked out into space. The larger corridor contained beings from several different worlds, each going out the business of being an Independant. This was a relief to Frankie, and he finally started moving again. “That’s better.”
About 15 standard minutes after leaving the docking platform, Darson and Frankie made slight turn and entered a short, smaller corridor, at the end of which was a door marked Office Complex. This door opened automatically as the pair approached.
A Renallian guard was on the other side. She looked over Darson, nodded in approval, then looked over his “guest”, compared him against her list, and nodded in approval. Then she pointed them toward a set of lifts.
As with the chamber earlier, Darson entered and Frankie followed. “‘M’ level.”
“‘M’ level”, responded the lift as it started its descent.
The lift stopped sooner than Frankie expected, based on the level designation, then relized that either the designations started above ground level or it’s not based on the Common alphabet. The doors opened and the pair entered a reception area.
“Aternoon, boys,” greeted a Tharn secretary, as she pressed a button for the doors to Ian Marcam’s office. “Go right in, he’s expecting you.”
“Thanks, Iphis.”
Frankie started to follow Darson inside, then, feeling he was being watched, turned back towards the reception desk. Iphis smiled and gave him a wink. Frankie returned the smile, resumed following Darson, with the thought Now what was that about? running through his head.
“Dava satu, Arche Sverba. Alsa Ian Marcam.”
Frankie was taken aback. It had been quite a while since he had heard his mother tongue without the use of a translator. “Dova. Alde Archani?”
“A little,” replied Ian, as he motioned for Frankie to sit, who did so. “We don’t get many Archans trhough here.”
Frankie pulled out his arms, then quickly put them back again after Darson nearly fainted. “How did you know? Oh, of course! Marcam and Marcam.”
“Right, you met my nephew. Tell me, do you know anything about who or what attacked you?”
“They didn’t introduce themselves, no.”
“Would you be surprised if I told you it was TALON symps?”
“Not at all. I recently examined something of theirs.”
“They did quite a number on your ship.” Ian turned toward Darson. “Do you have the repair summary?” Darson stepped forward, placed a notepad on Ian’s desk, then returned to his previous position. Ian took the pad, looked it over, and started making tsk noises.
“That bad?”
Ian showed the pad to Frankie. “I don’t suppose you can pay for all of this?”
“Not at this time, no.” Ian frowned at that.
Darson spoke up. “Perhaps he has some skills to offer?”
“Skills. Yes, I noticed your atmosphere generators are a bit…off. I could take a look at them.”
“You’re an engineer?” asked Ian.
“In a way.”
Ian shrugged and pressed a button, “Iphis, contact our mechanics and get them started on the Cobra that just arrived.” This wouldn’t be the first time someone bartered skills for services.
“Greetings, Capt. Sturdivant.”
“Save it, Marcam. I heard you have something to offer us?”
“Indeed.” Sean showed an image of his latest prize, “this vessel and her crew”, then stepped aside to reaveal some TALON faithful, most of whom weren’t much older than Ensign Kaval. “You can have them, if you give us the proceeds from the sale of whatever they’re carrying.”
“I’m not in the habit of cutting deals with Independants, you know that.”
Just then, the Rose/Brigid program once again entered real space, and once again found itself inside some humanoid. This particular humanoid was looking at a vidscreen image of Capt. Sturdivant. It still missed its target slightly but was satisfied at the outcome.
“What? NO! No! N…” said young man as he–unwillingly, apparently–approached the Orion’s vidscreen.
“You! Get back in line!” shouted Shad Polazzi, waving a modified blaster rifle.
Kaval exclaimed, “I know that guy! Jimmy Hostelter!”
Sturdivant glanced at Kaval, then turned back toward his vidscreen. “Leave him be. Looks like he has a statement to make.”
Jimmy’s eyes rolled back in his head, then returned to normal. His voice, however, wasn’t. “I am the Program. You have been expecting me.” The voice paused. “Where are ‘Rose’ and ‘Brigid’?”