NationStates Jolt Archive

The first installment of the epic, To Rise Above.

Origins of a Crisis

Esdras strolled down the alley drunkenly, and perhaps a bit carelessly. Next time he’d have a bit less to drink, perhaps only three Stargazers instead of four. Nah, he thought, it was worth it. A smirk appeared across his face, only to disappear as he heard some sort of noise behind him. Turning to look, he saw only the darkness of the shadows and the brightness of the lights illuminating the alley. Those were what annoyed him most. He shrugged and pressed forward, rounding the corner of a building when the ship came into view. He figured Brent would already be there, and probably wouldn’t appreciate his showing up wasted, but then again, he probably wouldn’t care all that much either. They’d saved each others’ skins several times in recent history, and a companionship had developed.

Passing through the shadow between two of the lights overhead, Esdras heard another noise. He was beginning to suspect something was amiss, but the Stargazers prevented him from formulating a plan of action quick enough. He caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his left eye and felt a sharp pain in the back of his head, then…nothing.


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The haze cleared to reveal an exceedingly bright light, or at least it looked to be so to Esdras. The hangover was starting to kick in. Damn those Stargazers. He needn’t to break the habit…

“Hello, Mr. Duperard.” A voice said.

Esdras glanced around the room. He was sitting in a chair, unbound, in the middle of a room with four, completely blank walls. He tried to stand, but was unable to will his muscles to cooperate. He hadn’t had that many Stargazers, had he?

“I wouldn’t try that, we have you on some very powerful drugs. Relax, Mr. Duperard, you’re not going to be harmed so long as you don’t do anything stupid. In fact, we are in need of your services, so killing you would defeat the purpose.” The voice asserted.

“Wha….wha do you wan?” Esdras stammered, partially because of the drugs, and partially because of the still lingering affects of the alcohol.

“We have some…precious…cargo that needs to be moved in a timely and furtive manner, Mr. Duperard. We are aware of yours and your captain’s recent performance in the Torontonian Nubia system, and of some of your…past adventures. You are a breed of man that has all but died out in this day and age, Mr. Duperard, and we are in desperate need of you and others like you. Don’t worry, you will be fully compensated for your services. To receive the cargo, simply take the datapad that has been placed in your pocket to the coordinates you’ll find therein. We expect to see you there within one standard week. Goodbye, Mr. Duperard.”

Esdras struggled to contemplate his situation as darkness slowly consumed him once again…


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Esdras re-awoke once again to see the puzzled face of Brent Causby before his. After explaining to his captain that he was fine, Esdras recognized the room around him this time as the compact sickbay aboard Causby’s newly acquired ship. Remembering the events that had taken place only hours ago, Esdras felt in his pocket, and sure enough the datapad was there. He took it out, not bothering to explain himself to Causby as he played with the buttons on the datapad. Finally, it showed him what he wanted to know. The datapad revealed the coordinates to a port he was familiar with. He looked up at Causby, who was still dumbstruck and starting to get a bit annoyed.

“If you’re interested, I’ve got a contract. In Megas.” Esdras grinned. He’d be heading home for this one.

“I don’t know about this. It sounds suspicious… Wait a minute, what am I saying, of course its suspicious. You black out some where and I find you on the entrance ramp to the ship collapsed in a heap. Only to revive you and have a datapad materialize in your pocket? I’ve done some pretty reckless things before in my day I’ll give you that, but this seems almost stupid!” Brent argued, almost with himself, while pacing the bridge of his newest acquisition.

The Nubian Glory was no ordinary ship. It was a custom built “Pleasure Craft” or at least, that’s what the registration said. Despite hitting it big on the riskiest mission of his life and avoiding being blasted into stellar dust by a Torontonian Defense Picket, or being dumped into foldspace during the escape, Captain Causby was still bending the law wherever he went. While waiting for the heat on his name to cool off in his own territories, he had taken his generous payoff from the Torontonian Government for opening up an entire new system for expansion and bought the ship of his dreams. Although it did lack some of the luxuries of a fully functioning voyager of the stars, as Esdras was experiencing right now, it was much more than he previously had.

The Bridge was actually its own deck, with a command chair and two rows of displays in a semicircle around said chair. Although the ship could technically be piloted by one person, there was space for three separate crewmen to assist in the operation of the ship. The separate decks of the ship, four in all where split up by functionality. The first deck was naturally the bridge, the second deck was the living quarters, the third deck was a mixed pack, it held the engineering components, the medical closet and the “recreational” area of the ship.

It was a stretch for recreation because the cramped room could barely contain the ancient foosball table he had splurged on and the wireless terminal he had hastily installed for crew use. It was hacked into the Torontonian HiWired Network and until they realized it, they had free connection to the Torontonian Information Superhighway. However, between the two of them, one could barely move around, let alone the three bodies he had aboard the ship already. Finally, the fourth deck was storage, where the ship currently had a variety of cargo for personal and professional use. He currently had five orders on the go, all legitimate of course but all with very generous timelines, so conflicting orders was not the biggest concern on his mind.

Turning back to a still woozy, but also infuriatingly quiet Esdras, who had returned to fiddling with his datapad rather than pay attention to the captain’s lecture.
“On the same note, aside from various knockout drugs that were coursing through your system, I was forced to note that your Blood Alcohol level was extremely high. Now, I’m no Saint myself, and I’m certainly not going to give you a browbeating for drinking for godsake, but are you sure you weren’t just so tanked that some conman didn’t just slip you that pad in a hope you brought your big ship to get ambushed and stolen? Its happened before…”

Causby had never worried like this before. Just a few weeks prior he would have jumped at the opportunity for employment, and if it wasn’t for that, then at least the adventure. However, things had changed. He was proverbially “Set for life” and was listlessly moving along with his life, not quite able to come to terms of his new found wealth. He had thought that maybe going on like he always did would help him settle in, that maybe without the desperation for money he always had, he would be able to get on with more adventuring. After all, he was a reckless renegade of Torontonian society! But even that had weaned over the past few months. The passion was gone, the deliveries were… mostly reputable, and they only had a few run ins with armed, disgruntled clients.

No matter how much he thought about it, no matter how many times he tried to justify it, it all came back to that damned planet. Nubia III, the name still haunted him. It was a testament to how he was both a pawn, and how he had failed his charges when they signed on with him. When they signed on, he made a vow that he would void his own life before harm fell on his hapless crewmen. He had the inside information, the government warned him of the risks, but those people knew nothing, only of the overly generous check for the length of the work assignment. That planet had taken them, consumed in it’s blood sacrifice. He had taken over a half dozen men, but only three had returned with him. Three! It was enough to drive a man mad. He had left many behind; many more were simply killed along the way, including his best friend and co-founder John Marstien. Not only that, but he shouldn’t have come back from that planet, he had good reason to be dead at least five times over.

Yet here he was, wondering with every new assignment why he was still hanging in. He had what he wanted, a nice ship, he had aged well, and now he had the last piece, riches. He could go home, buy himself a clear name and get on with his life. Yet, why did he persist? He looked over at the Torontonian Crest he had plastered over the plaque that listed the registration details of the ship, he still couldn’t figure out what had possessed him to put that up. That was why, he had nothing to go back to, his life was in ruin just as he left in over ten years ago. He couldn’t go back and face it, so instead he insisted on running.

There was another reason though, the young Esdras he had taken a shine to. One of the fortunate few to survive the grisly events down on the planets surface, he was the only one that seemed perfectly unattached and genuinely loyal to the ship. While he wasn’t so pompous as to think he was loyal to his captain, Brent knew there was some sort of respect there. While Mihkael was attached to the Regen Science Commission and had shown off startling augmentations, Esdras seemed extremely down to earth, almost too much for him to bear sometimes. No, there were still things that needed to be done before he retired from the stars, and this job seemed to be a start. He didn’t like the looks of it, and he felt like he had a lead weight in his gut, but he felt like he couldn’t let this one just get away on him.

“Anyway, suspicions aside, do you know how much this job pays? Or what we’ll be hauling? I do like to know what is in the boxes I’m carrying so I can make up believable lies about it to any nosy customs officials. Here, let me take a look at this datapad of yours…”

“Allow me bossss” G’reaglix, or “Greg” as Brent casually referred to him as had appeared within their midst. Despite being significantly bulkier than Brent or Estras, and that he possessed a tail that slid across the metal plating, one would expect him to make more noise. It was his stealth abilities that had both originally disturbed and impressed him. One of the first natives of the Nubian System to venture into outer space at the urging of the Colonial Magistrates, he had taken to the culture shock quite well. However, his forked tongue had not quite adjusted to the Torontonian language yet and still had trouble mastering what medical staff would call “A lisp” which caused him to slur his “s” and “z” sounds comically, making it sound like he was hissing them out when he spoke.

Before Brent could object, he had maneuvered his way between them and snached the datapad from Esdras. “Ah Yessss, I recognissse thessse coordinatesss, if I am not missstaken, they are within your territory no?” Greg inquired, pointing at Esdras. After confirmation of the fact he turned back to the Captain and continued “Ssssir, I believe we ssshould take thisss misssion, it could turn out to be quite… lucrative. The sssituation may be a little hard to accept, but we must ‘grab the bull by itssss hornsss correct?” Greg concluded, handing the datapad over to Brent

“Both of you have valid points, but I’m still not quite convinced. I’m going to need some time to think about it” Brent ventured cautiously

“Whatever you dessssire Captain, I…” Greg trailed off as the chirping noise from his chronometer alerted him of an impending event “…If you’ll excusssse me, I’ll be in my quarterssss. Whatever you deicide Sssir, I will follow”

Brent eyed the Nubian as he casually walked out of the room, now clearly tromping down the hallway in a decent rush. He clearly needed to be somewhere soon and was not affording stealth.

“That Nubian religion, I’ll never understand why they continue to adhere to their pagan rituals when the Magistrates are clearly showing them the ‘truer’ path of the Church of Torontonias. I don’t believe in either, I think it’s a load, but I’ll never understand why they’d stick with old traditions when the clearly superior option is available to them.” Brent commented to no one in particular, before turning to Esdras, who seemed to be paying more attention

“Now, I don’t know how I feel about this, but I think we need to pursue this lead anyway. It seems fishy, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take, wait until Mihkael gets back and then you have permission to take us out of here. If we need additional personnel, which for the ‘nature’ of this mission I doubt will be necessary we can always pick some up in Megasian Space. I’ll be in my quarters if you need me, so you might want to sober up a bit before you take the bird out for a spin.” Brent grinned, patting Esdras on the shoulder as he left for his room.
As he created distance from himself and the bridge, his smile quickly melted away back into concern, he wouldn’t know whether he was doing the right thing until it was too late, or if there would be signs to show him the way. Whatever the outcome, he knew one thing. He was meddling with something bigger than himself, and he could feel it in his bones.

Stifling a shudder that instantly ran through his body, he punched in the code for his room and stepped inside.

The clank of his boots on the gangway was barely audible over the sounds of the ship cycling through its pre-launch protocols. The stay in the station had not been overly arduous, despite its lacking of some of Mihkael's favorite diversions. He considered himself a gourmand, and the quality of the food he had sampled was mediocre at best, and alas the markets were not stocked with what he needed to cook a decent meal for himself. Maybe next stop I'll be able to find some decent Regenian mustard, he thought to himself as he reached the doorway, and waved his fingers over the key pad which sequenced his DNA and opened the door upon recognizing him. He proceeded through the airlock and then up onto the bridge where he had hoped to find the captain. Not seeing him there, he moved to the communications panel and opened a link to the PA system.

"I'm safely on board, Cap'n. The ships almost done with the preflight diagnostics, and she looks eager as I am to be out of this dump of a station." He closed the channel, and then moved to his position at the engineering terminal and examined the reaction drive readouts for any signs of tampering or damage. It had happened before that an idiot of a mechanic at one of these backwater stations had left a torque wrench directly in the path of the optical control relays. The ship had nearly run itself into the wall of the docking bay when they tried to launch. Since then, Mihkael checked the systems every time before launch.

He'd learned a lot of the ins and outs of space travel in the past few years of working with Brent. He certainly hadn't been a complete greenhorn before joining the crew, but most of his knowledge had been gained from books.

Finally, he concluded that all the readouts were normal, and input the launch code. Automatically, the ship became pressure tight, and the computer announced over PA that the ship was ready for launch. Mihkael now waited for Captain Causby to reach the bridge so that they could leave this trash heap of a station.

Of course Esdras hadn’t fully considered the foolishness of taking on such a shady haul so hastily, if it was even more than just a joke, as Brent had so assertively pointed out. He hadn’t had the time to clear his head and regain his sensibilities, let alone make a sensible judgment call. The “fuzz” cleared as Brent went about his…tirade wasn’t the best word for it, Esdras decided. Oh well, his head hurt too much to try and be grammatically accurate for the time being. After all, Brent was the captain, and as such was allowed such…explosions? No, that word was far too strong. Esdras gave up trying.

About that time, Greg had made his hasty entrance. The arrival of the Nubian had served to further disorient Esdras until he remembered Brent’s newest hire. Even still, the lizard-man made him uneasy. It had been not too long ago that creatures such as he sought to kill him and set his head upon a stake, or so Esdras’ thoughts dramatized. Brent trusted him, or seemed to, and that was good enough for Esdras…for now. He’d keep his eye out, but would try his best not to let suspicions get in the way of normal activity, especially since they were, for the moment, unfounded.

After all, Greg seemed to believe that this contract was worth making the trip to Megas for, and that rewarded him some points towards earning Esdras’ trust. Upon Greg’s departure to do…whatever it was he did in his quarters, Esdras both didn’t care and suppressed a morbid curiosity to know what, Brent’s attitude shifted somewhat, though there was still uncharacteristic disgruntlement in his voice. Yes, that’s what it was! Brent seemed disgruntled at…something. All this thinking continued to compound Esdras’ hangover. Soon after Brent departed, Esdras too returned to his own quarters to freshen up and hopefully coax some of the after-effects of too much alcohol to have mercy upon him. It wasn’t like he drank like that all the time.

In his shower, the new ship that Brent had purchased afforded many luxuries that Esdras had taken a liking to, Esdras pondered the very thought he had joked to himself about as he left the sickbay. He didn’t drink like that very often. In fact, hardly at all. Usually, he’d have a maximum of two stargazers or an equivalent, but not enough to render him so helpless. He cringed at that word. He had been utterly helpless only a few short hours before. He was lucky that it had not been an enemy that had capitalized on his condition. Only now did Esdras seriously begin to understand, or understand his lack of understanding of the strange events that had taken place. Why had these people, who were in desperate need of men like he and his crewmates, chosen such a way to make contact? Surely there were easier ways. They could have simply sent someone to meet him in a bar. If these people knew so much about Esdras, then they would know he could usually be found in one.

And then it struck him. They did, they had, and he had fallen hook, line, and sinker. He remembered why he had had a few too many stargazers. He remembered a man at the bar, a jovial fellow. Esdras had taken a liking to him, and they had shared drinks and swapped stories for hours. That man was the initial ingredient to a well-planned set up. But why? Why was he so important that an elaborate ruse sustained for hours had been employed against him? If for nothing else but to answer that question alone, he wanted to return to Megas and take the contract. Esdras was glad Brent had given in without his having to admit that vulnerability. He and Brent had become good friends, or at least he like to think so, but certain things were sacred to a man’s thoughts.

Relieved and refreshed from the steaming shower, Esdras made his way back to the bridge to find Mikhael already priming the engines for launch. Mikhael, Esdras had decided, was an odd fellow, but then so were all scientists. What made him different was his ability to take care of himself, something Esdras respected. What Esdras regarded with further respect were Mikhael’s apparent physical augments, he would never want to be on the man’s bad side. They never spoke much, but that didn’t detract from their duties, and there was no hostility between them, so Esdras just let things be. Besides, with Mikhael at the helm, that was just one less task for Esdras to take care of. He took a seat next to Mikhael, and handed him the datapad, the coordinates displayed in large numerics.

“We're headin' here, Cap'n already gave the okay.” He gestured to the datapad. “I got another contract for us, an’ it’s been awhile since I been home.”

A pleasant look stretched across Esdras’ face as he relaxed in his chair. He’d let Mikhael take care of the rest, and Brent would probably be coming around fairly soon, anyway. It wasn’t long before he dozed off.

Mihkael smiled as Esdras mentioned home, and then looked at the coordinates. "Oh, you mean your home," he said quietly as he began inputing the coordinates into the navigation computer. Lightly, he set the datapad on the console.

It had been some time since he had returned to Regenius. He hadn't seen his home world of New Arlington since he had returned for his father's funeral three years before. He often missed the great expanses of temperate forest planted from specimens taken from the home world of the Regen Corporation, long since evacuated.

As the navigation computer figured the shortest safe jump route, Mihkael issue the undock order, and the ship lurched as it detached from the station and began to float freely away from it. Keying in the jump code, he authorized the ship to autopilot itself to the destination, and then sat back and relaxed.

Looking over, he saw Esdras asleep and calmly reached out and picked up the datapad before reading through its contents. Mihkael was amaze at the fact that Captain Causby had accepted the task after reading the details. It seemed pretty sketchy to pick up this kind of job in a dump like that. Lately, Causby was usually the cautious one too. Mihkael had taken to calling him "Cautious Causby" behind his back. It had seemed that wealth and contentment had taken their toll until today.

Mihkael took out his personal datapad and made an entry summarizing what few details they had about the current assignment. He would upload it to his handler at the RCSF at their next stop.

As the Door whooshed to close, and hearing the familiar click of the automated lock Brent relaxed. His quarters were a far improvement over anything he had ever been accustomed to. Although all the crew quarters were now equip with basic facilities like bathrooms, his room had afforded him what could be akin to a “Master Bathroom” with an actual bathtub. Despite the fact that he hadn’t physically seen a bathtub in several years since Space stations generally drop them in favour of space effective showers, he tended to enjoy soaking in his new acquisition.

As an impulse, he had purchased the ancient relic on auction, and was a genuine Barclay Clawfoot tub from the early 21st century of Torontonias. Back when it was a federation of provinces on Earth. The tub had obviously been retrofitted from its porcelain beginnings. The nine-hundred year old bathtub would have been dangerously unstable otherwise. The retrofitting included reinforcing the physical structure and modifying it to hold many exotic substances difference species might bathe in. Although the water could definitely make a mess of the room if the gravity generators were to fail, that was the least of Brent’s concerns. Drawing the water, he began to collect his thoughts

He still couldn’t put a tag on the uneasiness he felt. He knew it was a different feeling in his gut than just nervousness. Brent already knew he might be out of touch with the more “Shifty” aspects of his business, but there was something else. It was this mission, although he still didn’t know what it was. He hated the uncertainty.

Then it hit him, while relaxing in the warm water cleaning himself off for any sort of encounter as so to be presentable. As the ship lurched into faster than light travel, he realized the whole reason that this mission unsettled him is because it felt like he was a pawn. This was exactly how he had been set up with the “Supposedly” suicidal trip to the Nubia system. Now that he could identify what the issue was, he could wrestle it by the horns. He would not allow himself to fall into the same trap.

Drying himself off and throwing on an undershirt and some faded khaki coloured pants, he donned his new favorite jacket, a old dress uniform from the Torontonian Spatial Defence Commission from the days when they used to have honour. The days before the amalgamation, days long past. The dull green uniform was studded with ornamental buttons on both sides that were staggered so that when fastened together, there would be a long column of them from his neck to his groin. Of course, he wasn’t fastening it and left it to hang open as he departed from the bathroom.

Sitting down in front of the terminal, he read up on the latest news coming out of his home nation. It seemed that unrest from the massive casualties the Torontonian Combined Forces had taken in the ESUS-GFFA war was finally starting to hit home. Enlistment rates were plummeting; people were petitioning the government for repairations for lost loved ones. Even the Corporations were getting restless as more and more resources and corporate interests were getting shanghaied into rebuilding the military and a painstakingly fast rate. It seemed that his nation was a tinderbox, all that it needed was a well placed match to set it all off. Through it all, the Warmongering CFedO Perkins soldiered on, plowing controversial acts and amendments through the four lower houses. It seemed the man was infallible; however, that was not his biggest concern. He grabbed his gun holster which was once again refilled after his faithful old sonic weapon had been destroyed in a fit a rage. Although the Military Contractors in Torontonias discontinued the sonic weaponry, he had managed to get one for a steep price off a collector. It was a much improved version and was much more resistant to overheating. The gun let off a loud screeching sound as it compressed sound waves to the point where they could rip holes into people. With his sidearm in place and properly dressed he exited his room and headed for the bridge. He knew that it wouldn’t be long until they arrived in Megan space

Once arriving on the bridge he shook Esdras awake. The man was slouching back in his chair as he dozed. He shot an amused look at Mikhael as he lightly shook the “Sleeping Beauty” awake.

“C’mon Esdras, I know you had a rough night but that is no excuse for sleeping on the job” Brent said with mock authority “You should be more like Mikhael over there, he knows how attentive one has to be to run a starship!”

“In all seriousness however, I’ve never been to Megas before and I hate to say I know barely anything about it, other than what you’ve told me. Is there anything I should know before we appear in your space? Are there going to be big military cruisers waiting for us wanted to arrest such daring renegades? Is there anything I should know to avoid a social faux pas?” Brent did this all in a joking manner, but there was an edge of seriousness in his voice.

Meanwhile

Log: Torontonian Public Access Network
Connecting…
….
…..
…...
Connection Established
Connect: Black_Sheep
Connection…
Conection Established
Run: BLInfolog.exe
Running…
Connecting…
Connection Failed…
Bypassing…
Connection Established

Torontonian Disnformation Ministry, Please enter username

Log: Nubian_in_Mercs_Clothing

Welcome Agent G’reaglix, you have (one) new message waiting

The Holo-display attached to his work station shimmered to life with the shadowy image of his superior; the middle-aged Torontonian was of Terra stock, as he was able to fit in regular shoes and was almost 6’4

“G’reaglix, we’re pleased that you managed to embed yourself with the Captain and his crew. He doesn’t bring himself to hire very often, even more so does he bring himself to trust people. If you can manage to get into his close trust, you will be one of our most valuable agents in the field” The image said matter of factly

“We have come into some information that the mission the Megan has just introduced to Captain Causby is much more important than either of them realize. They’re going to be transporting a sample of the fabled “Flower of Life” and to put it bluntly, the Torontonian Government wants it. If our labs could some how reverse engineer the substance and make a synthetic version, we could bring Megan society to its knees. The Autocracy stands to make Trillions off this plan and it would give the Torontonian Government unparalleled influence over a fellow alliance member.”

“You must manage to convince the Captain to travel to coordinates that we’re still working out. The information will be provided by another agent inside Megan territory, you’ll be able to find him in a Spa at the nearest space station to the area you’ll be picking up you’re cargo. If the audacious Captain believes that you don’t need to stop, then that’ll make your job that much more challenging. These coordinates are extremely important, it’ll be an ambush zone inside Megan territory with TCF support. If the Megan government were to find out, the Autocracy would be in the middle of an unwelcome diplomatic storm.”

“Once those coordinates are obtained, you’ll have to convince the Captain that you need to follow a passage which moves through that area on your way to the drop off. This entire plan is still in its infancy, you’ll be provided with more information from our agent in the field.”

“That is all for now Agent, Grienmile out”

Greg growled as the image flickered out, he glanced down at the coordinates of the station that he was going to have to get to for this mission. It looked like it could get complicated, and he hated complications.

After erasing his tracks and disconnecting from the secret network, he stopped to check his equipment and ensure it was safely stowed out of sight and left his room, making his way toward the Bridge with his heavy footfalls.

His first impulse was to mildly strike out in annoyance at who or whatever was disturbing his slumber, but Esdras didn't. He was awakened by Brent in time to hear himself being compared to Mikhael, something which served to annoy him even more, but he let it go, chalking it up to a combination of grouchiness at being awoke and the still lingering affects of the alcohol. That worried him, alcohol wasn't supposed to last this long. He set the thought aside as he struggled a bit to overcome his drowsiness and slight headache. He contemplated Brent’s musings about Megan culture before finally responding.

“Nah, it’s pretty much your basic, ever’day kinda place. Though, your accen’ may get ya into trouble.” Esdras joked back, setting himself up with the irony. His backwoods accent was definitely Megan, but not definitely not mainstream, originating from the countryside province of Myers on the Megan capitol Tirol, Esdras’ homeworld.

As they neared Megan space, a commercial sensor picket alerted them that it knew they were approaching, and would need to pass within a certain distance of the station at sublight speeds in order for a quick scan to take place. Essentially a small space station, the compact Megas Space Corps defensive outpost was manned by a crew of fourteen, seven of which were on duty at all times. A large computer within the shielded station maintained a steady data-stream to a much larger MSC station in orbit of a planet in a nearby star system. The data on all merchant vessels such as this one would be forwarded to the local office of the Megas Commerce Bureau, an obscenely large organization that tracked every buy and sell of goods, anywhere in Megas. The MCB utilized several powerful AI programs to sort through and categorize data. The AI’s flagged any noteworthy discrepancies in the movement of goods and in the movement of capital. Thinking that they were safe because their goods could not be tracked, rarely did smugglers realize that currency left an even more apparent and incriminating trail than did shipment manifests.

Esdras saw the alert on his console and realized that the station’s computer required a registration ID to pass into Megan space. Esdras told Mikhael to slow the ship and vector to the station. Bringing the comm. Control up on his console, Esdras sent a request to the station. Within seconds, its computer had scanned the ship, finding it empty except for the four crewmen and their personal effects, and generated a registration ID for her. They would need it if they wanted to dock at any Megan port in one piece, as any ship lacking such an ID for clearance would be automatically targeted by the stations guns and, given a small amount of time to retread, would be subsequently blown away. Furthermore, any ship that left Megan territory would have its ID deactivated temporarily, to be reinstated upon returning to Megas.

The next few hours went by uneventfully as Esdras guided the ship through the required checkpoints and trade routes to the port they desired. Eventually reaching it, Esdras announced joyfully that they had arrived in the Megan home system of Valivarre, and were now approaching the commerce port Fantoma Traders, in orbit of the gas giant Fantoma.

“An’ if you look out window, that’s Zendus, where Megans are historically from. That’s where the Entente originated, boys, before she grew to encompass seven star systems.” Esdras pointed out a window to the port. He then shifted his gesture to the starboard.

“An’ that there, tha’s Tirol, my home planet. Haven’ been there in awhile,” he reminisced, “but then, we’re not headed there today.”

They took in the beauty of the planets, moons actually, of Fantoma, to either side of them as Esdras relinquished guidance of the ship to the Fantoma Trader’s powerful docking AI, which oversaw all traffic in and out of the commerce hub. Feeling helplessly out of control as the ship slowly drifted towards the massive gates of the hub’s entrance, Esdras returned to his history lesson.

“About two thousand years ago, the first space-venturin’ Megans flew through this very space between the two moons from Zendus to make personal contac’ with the people on Tirol. At the time, Zendus was a united planet, bein’ conquered by the Megans and all, but Tirol wasn’. The Megans had just finishe’ their small fleet of new warships, most of them abou’ the size of this ship, and were makin’ regular trips back an’ forth. Pretty soon, the Megans realize’ that they had much better technology than the Tirolians, and struck a deal with one of the largest nation-states on Tirol. They lent the Tirolians technology, and in return the Tirolians conquered the planet for them, though they didn’ know it, yet. The Megans moved in with a puppet government and established a capital on Tirol, called Monument City. And tha’s how we came to be. As for me, even though I’m from Tirol, my family’s one-hundred percet Megan lineage, we came over in the first wave of immigrants to Tirol. The government had institute’ this tech program where Megans were shipped over to help train Tirolians in all their civilian technologies, and paid well for it. Mine was a family of farmers, and leape’ at the chance to go take over a large portion of Tirolian crops. ‘Course after a while they mechanize’ the damne’ process and we were out of job…”

The mechanical clank and shudder of the ship brought Esdras back to reality. Although not sure whether or not Brent and Mikhael had listened, or even cared, he had enjoyed conveying the history lesson, feeling rather proud that he was one of the good students that had paid attention in school. At least, for the history classes. He rather didn’t care about the low marks he received in language, mathematics, science, and ethics and morals. Who did?

Immediately after the ship secured itself to the universal docking clamps, they had to be very accommodating, as Megas received trade traffic from many different ESUS partners, a message was sent to the ship with instructions to hurry outside.

“These guys sure are efficient,” Esdras remarked as he let Brent read the message. “They’re already outside. I suppose we shoul’ go and meet them?”

Brent listened attentively as Esdras proudly relayed an excessive amount of Megan history to him. He was probably quite the historian in his youth He mused to himself as he allowed his crewmember to prattle on about his lineage, the local area, and the Empire itself.

“It’s interesting how you got a single State to subjugate all others. I suppose that comes from my upbringing though. Torontonians seem to be naturally pacifistic, with only one real major war among our own kind during the nations inception centuries ago. We haven’t really fought ourselves since. In fact, the only reason the TSDC exists was because of threats from other nations. Until the ESUS Civil War, it had never conducted any major offensive action against any other nation” Brent relayed

“You seem to know quite a bit about your own nation, perhaps we can sit down and exchange tales one day. I’m not quite up to snuff on my own heritage, but I do know a fair bit about my nation and would be only too interested to converse”

As the ship docked, he was surprised when the message bleeped up on the main communications channel. Apparently the suppliers were already waiting for them, despite the fact they had only just arrived. This set the thoughts in the good Captains head spinning again.

“I suppose we should go out and greet them, if they are in such a hurry we don’t want to keep them waiting. Besides, the faster we can get this cargo, the faster we can get to delivering it, and the faster we can be done with this operation that I still don’t feel quite so sure about”

As Brent shifted to move out of his seat, he glanced over to notice Greg making a hasty departure to the airlock. The subservient lizard usually asked the Captains permission to do anything, now it seemed that he was using all his power to avoid his gaze. However, he had spotted him.

“Where do you think you’re going in such a hurry Greg? We just got here, and I don’t plan on staying very long in case the docking fee’s here are excessively high. I believe you might just want to stay on board for this one” Brent issued

“Sssir, I have most urgent busssiness to attend to on this station. I have…” The lizardman paused “…A relative who isss in need of sssome financial assssistance lesssst Megan loan agentssss desssscend on his livelihood and family” Greg responded

“Interesting, you never mentioned family in Megas before. Why is this coming up all of a sudden, and why didn’t you inform me when you found out where we were going?” Brent pressed

“I appologissse Sssir, he only jusssst informed me of hissss ssssituation during thisss cycle when I sssent him a messssage sssaying I would be vissssiting the ssstation. He isss a bit forgetful when it comessss to paying billsss and many believe him to be a deadbeat. I mussst insssissst Captain, I mussst come to hisss aid, it issss a matter of family honour.” Greg pressed back

Brent sighed, there was more to this Lizard than met the eye. He seemed to be quite the simpleton when he took him aboard as a novelty, but new things came up every time he saw the reclusive crew member

“Very well, but make it quick. If it turns out this contract is less than legal, we may have to be make a speedy exit”

Brent didn’t quite buy the reasoning, but he was pressed for time and his contacts would likely be getting impatient. He had to get going, motioning Esdras to follow him, he left the bridge.

...run. Run now, fool, as fast as you can. You couldn't have botched this any worse than you already have, and there is nothing you can do for him. You always were a most efficient taker of lives. Why are you still sitting there? If the guards arrive and find him bleeding out in your arms they'll kill you on sight. You're good, but not that good. Run. Don't tell me you've developed a conscience after all these years, after all the lives you've snuffed out like a candle. You are a bringer of death, and feel no sorrow, no remorse. It's what keeps you alive. Run. His blood is steaming on you in this cold weather. His eyes are wide, shocked, transfixed on you. His throat a wide, gaping, death-grin. Let go of him, and run. Run...

The metallic bang and clank of the cruiser securing to the dock jolted Valen Garris back to reality. His hand dipped to his belt for his blaster, but he recovered himself before he could pull it. Wiping his brow brought to light the fact that he was sweating profusely. He wished he could blame that on the fatigues he was wearing, but the sweat he had felt on his forehead had been a bit to cold for that. The fatigues in question were generic gray, of Naxderian production. The threading was laced with a very fine alloy found only on Naxderia, his homeworld. He racked his brain trying to recall the name, but the answer seemed to be engaged in a bit of poke and run with his tongue. The alloy made the fatigues resistant to most blasters, but it was still not advisable to test their limits. Valen took a deep breath in an attempt to steady himself, closed his eyes, and felt a icepick of pain shoot through his head.

Stop trying to fool yourself...your nerves are shot...you've been jumping at your own shadow for ten years...

“Shut up...”

I simply speak the truth...

“I know the truth...”

So you've been telling yourself...

“I said shut UP!!”

He drew his right arm across his chest to prop his left, and rested his head in his left hand. The demon of his past had subsided for the moment, but it was never silent for long. Valen let his mind drift, waiting for whoever was going to greet him. His instructions had been to stay with the cargo, observe, and record. Shot nerves or not, he still had the fortitude to do that much. He didn't like not knowing any of the details, but he was willing to play along as long as his employer, whoever he was, payed him the promised 10000 Drollians. Jobs were few and far between in Naxder Drol these days, and money was tight, so he had to take whatever came along to get by. Yet his instincts told him that there was something very wrong about this whole thing. 10000 Drollians was quite a bit of money for a job as simple as this was supposed to be...

Esdras nodded in reply and followed his captain to the hatch, which had been left quite ajar by Greg’s hasty exit. It was strange, if not completely insane, that he would have a relative in the Megan capital system. As far as Esdras knew, Nubian immigrants hadn’t penetrated that far into Megan space, preferring the outlying systems that were inhabited by less human species, such as the giant, cat-bear-like Karbarrans. Esdras logged his suspicion away for the time being, he couldn’t really accuse the Nubian of, well, anything.

As they made their way into the station, they were met by a party of men standing ready next to what appeared to be a shipment of metal containers. One stood ahead of the rest, Esdras recognized him immediately as a native of Naxder Drol, a long-time friend and ally of Megas. Whereas he appeared to be in charge, the rest looked like randomly hired grunts who knew as much about the cargo as Esdras did. Efficient wasn’t the word, this was absurd. But they were being compensated well for their trouble. Brent was right, something just didn’t set right about the whole deal, Esdras concluded. He decided to get some information.

“Finders’ blessin’s to you,” Esdras used a very Megan greeting to denote his nationality to the Naxderian, and extended his hand, “I’m Esdras Duperard, first mate o’ this can, and this is Captain Brent Causby.” He gestured to Brent.

After a few hand shakes and introductions, Esdras turned to Brent quietly as the Naxderian began giving orders to his men.

“I think you and Mikhael shoul' be able to handle things here, don’ you? I’m gonna go poke aroun' a bit, see a few frien's, y’know?” Esdras gave a half-smile and noted a worried expression on Brent’s face. “Don’ worry, I’m not gonna drink, just talk to some people.”

With a last gaze at the Naxderian and his crew, Esdras strode off in the same direction that Greg had headed, although unbeknownst to either of them.


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


The bookie sat at his terminal, reading the same things he read everyday, scanning actually, there wasn’t anything interesting enough to read. His job was to watch the screen carefully for anything that might be flagged by the expert systems, a generic term for a partially autonomous artificial intelligence, which had already dug through and sifted the data as closely as could possibly be done. Nothing ever came up that was serious, usually a strange currency movement here, or a lost shipment there, all of which the AIs labeled with a yellow marker to denote further analysis was needed by humans. The markets were all tracked this way, and so had smuggling and embezzlement become scarce in the Megan commercial world. Today however, the bookie (so called that as a reference to those who had performed similar tasks centuries earlier with a writing utensil and paper) would receive a surprise. The system had been tracking the unusual buildup of funds in a certain bank by way of unknown means. Several times it had already flagged that bank account, and several times a report had gone upstairs and nothing further had happened. The system did not know this, it only performed the tasks for which it was programmed. Once again it saw a discrepancy, once again rupies had appeared out of nowhere to be deposited into a bank in great amounts. This time, however, something was slightly different. This time, the rupies had been transferred almost as quickly as they had been deposited, they had been transferred several times, in fact, in what seemed to be a vain attempt to launder the currency. For some reason, crooks still thought laundering to be possible even in this day and age of technology. After jostling around for several seconds, the rupies stopped, apparently reaching their final destination. Almost as quickly as they had entered the electronic system, they were taken out, liquidated into hard currency, which in Megas was storing the values electronically into a data device roughly the same size as a 21st century Terran credit card, and so they were nicknamed by historians, and so the nickname had stuck. The citizens were not aware, but the system could track the currency on the credit cards as well.

And so the system tracked the rupies until finally they ended up on a newly issued credit card which had been registered on the commercial station Fantoma Traders. The identity used to register the card was known to be false, and the person who used it known to be Torontonian. Although the system did not know that particular jewel of information, it did have a list of names to keep in consideration, and his was on it. Immediately, the data was flagged RED, highest priority, and displayed on the bookie’s terminal.

“Sir, you’d better come look at this,” The bookie reacted quickly and excitedly by calling the attention of his supervisor.

A man whose enthusiasm for his line of work had died a horrible death years ago, the supervisor took his time in wandering over to his bookie’s station. These new guys always got worked up over nothing. Upon reaching the station, his opinion immediately changed. It was rare that the system RED-flagged anything, so it had to be worth a look. His eyes scanned the terminal as he took in the information, comprehending everything even as he read. His lazy expression quickly turned to a frown.

“Yeah, this is pretty interesting stuff. Send it upstairs, it’s their responsibility now. Good work, kid, you’ll probably be put in for a promotion for this one.” The supervisor patted his bookie on the back and praised him as if he had actually accomplished something.


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


“They” were a highly educated and altogether merciless team of anaylists, mathmeticians, and technicians that worked together to beat all manner of smugglers, embezzlers, and like ilk. They occupied the top three floors of the MCB’s building on Tirol, and had created a community all their own. They had established networks that rivaled the military and the government’s own intelligence agencies, and theirs were commercial, meaning that they could track crime at its very roots…greed and rupies. As such the MCB was to be feared by anyone who thought about illegal activities.

Only a few seconds after the bookie had forwarded the system report “upstairs,” it had appeared on a similar terminal in front of a similar, but much older and more experienced bookie. This bookie had authority, however, and soon after receiving the priority RED report, he organized a team of his colleagues to launch an investigation. It wasn’t long before they had gathered a great deal of information. Since there was a foreign national involved, protocols mandated that the information be shared with military intelligence as well, although it did not establish a time frame for when. As such, the MCB would jealously guard their investigation until they were certain that their military counterparts could not develop anything that they hadn’t already considered.

You know this mission is going to be Black Ops Classified. The ships you’re being assigned have had their long range transmitters removed so that you cannot physically make contact with the TSDC in the event something goes wrong. The government, Perkins himself wants this to be completely deniable. The shadowy figure of the High Admiral had spoken

“Yes sir, I understand the gravity of what you’re outlining” The Captain had mumbled back, still taking in the details of the report being streamed to his personal quarters

Do you though? Do you realize what is at stake here? If you’re caught, and assumedly captured, this would mean war with the Megan people. Those aren’t the only repercussions either, war with Megas would cause an intergalactic affair AND a likely review of Torontonian membership in the Union. They didn’t take too kindly on us instigating a Civil War the first time, I have a feeling that they’d be even less tolerant on the second round! The figure snorted

“I do understand those implications sir, but if you mind me asking: Why is this all necessary? I mean, the Megan’s are our allies, and wouldn’t this…” He glanced at the datastream “…This ‘flower of life’ be a tradable commodity? I still don’t understand why you want me to head up a mission to strike deep into Megan territory and steal something we should be able to aquire legally!” The Captain objected

I do mind you asking Captain, you aren’t privy to that sort of information at this stage in the game. However, I feel indulgent: The flower of life essentially runs Megas, it powers their economy, their military and their society. Such a integral part of the nations functioning is not traded, it is guarded. However, if we were able to acquire a specimen, and was able to cheaply duplicate it, we could destroy the balance of that function.

The Captain sat in silence, he had not considered the implications

“And you want me to retrieve this ‘flower’ for you?”

Exactly

“Then why the large force? Why not send just one scout ship, one bandit? The force you’re commissioning me is almost one sixths of the current Torontonian Spatial Defense Force’s entire operating navy! If stealth is your aim, this is not the way to do it”

It is because the Megans are not going to part with their flower lightly. Their entire border is ringed with detector stations, similar to Fortress System Epsilon Indi is, but on a grander scale, you will no doubt be detected. No, we’re giving you the force for intimidation purposes. You’ll also be ‘escorting’ two science vessels and with that line, we would hope you could bear down on any picket force the Megans could muster in time. Indeed, if you linger too long you’ll end up trapped by the bulk of the Megan Naval forces, however: your contact is to be near the border anyway, so you should be able to jump in, cruise through and jump out without anyone, or anybody that matters noticing.

“I see. I imagine there isn’t any way of declining this mission?”

No.

“In that case, I will do my best to accomplish the objective for the best of the TSDC”

Excellent. The boys at HQ thought you could be convinced. You’ll be leaving as soon as you can get back to Nubia Station to be commissioned your new fleet and command ship. As well as your new rank

“Yes sir, I’ll get on it right away!”

Good. I hope to not hear about this operation until debriefing Commodore

“I’ll do my best sir, Jutenburg out”

That had been thirty hours ago… Running on little sleep and even less food, the newly commissioned field officer had gone about doing his duty. His Lieutenant of the Bridge didn’t make a fuss, ships were recalled to Nubia Station all of the time, it had become something of a makeshift Military field outpost due to the extreme security measures of the Fortress system, even for military vessels.

He found himself aboard the TSDC Planar Wind, a Samnite of the most modern dimensions. Fresh out of the construction docks he had hand chosen the ship to lead the operation. He had told his crew little, he would not be endangering many of them on this mission. He only transferred his trusted Lieutenant of the Bridge, his Chief Engineer and his Colonel of the Ship. These three men represented his inner circle, if there was anyone who could help his command ship reflect his directives it would be them. With the seeds in place at pivitol command junctions, he could quell any rumors in the command ship that could spread to the rest of the fleet. A disciplined command meant a disciplined crew he had always thought, and he hoped it would reflect over the rest of the fleet.

Although it was hard to assemble a fleet of this size away from prying eyes, the TSDC black-ops was able to do an exemplary job of doing so. They managed to jump, tow or fly the 24 Bandits, 18 Legionaries, 6 Centurions and 2 Samnites in behind one of Nubia V’s moons. It was a low traffic area, and the occasional ship would just assume the TSDC was field testing some sort of new weapon or maneuver.

To the TSDC’s credit, the two Science Vessels they scrounged up seemed to believe that they were really on some sort of scientific expedition. He would let them do the talking first if and when the Megan Authorities started knocking, that would sow some confusion and distraction. Perhaps even enough time to get into a good firing position.

As he sat in his Command Chair, cupping the new rank he had just been assigned, he couldn’t help but wonder as his new crew scurried about prepping all the other captains on assigned positions and plans. They had all been fed the same story about a Scientific research expedition that would take them dangerously close to Megan territory. He wondered about the ethics of the whole situation

This is dangerous brinksmanship we have going here, any false move and its game over for an entire nation of peoples. I am the crucible of this event. Should this be an honour or a burden? Should I flee now and report myself to the TSDC High Command? He doubted if that would accomplish anything. But he still found himself questioning. He had come from such a noble line, how could he afford to have it tarnished in the name of some illegal power-grab?

He banished the thoughts from his mind as his Lieutenant approached him

“All ships reporting ready sir, we are awaiting your orders to commence mission”

“Thank you Lieutenant Dolby, relay to all ships that they are to jump to specified coordinates and begin moving along distributed waypoints. Set up a defensive formation around the science vessels so to shield them from any natural anomalies that may occur.” Jutenburg issued

“Sir, you do realize these waypoints will take us dangerously close to the Megan borders? They may not take too kindly to expeditions, even of the Scientific nature inside their borders” Ensign Jakobs warned

“I’m aware of that Ensign, but we’re allies last time I checked, I’m sure they won’t mind if we step on their toes for a few hours. Continue as planned” Jutenburg ordered, quashing the complaint like an unfortunate bug

“Aye Aye Commodore” The Ensign replied as he punched in the coordinates and activated the FTL Jump drives

There were many flickers behind the moon as an entire detachment of ships jumped away to their perilious destination, unknowing of the events they were setting in motion…

Aboard the Fantoma Trader

OOC: Note, I’m removing the written “hiss” on Greg’s speech, since he’s going to get more of it. For anyone actually reading this thread, you’ll just have to imagine it

Most people would get out of the way of a Lizardfolk on a good day, even if one was out for a fair-weather stroll. The bulky humanoids were quite fierce looking even on the best of days. However, for one that was in a hurry, in a crowded trading station, people were practically leaping out of the way lest they get pushed or knocked aside by the steamrolling force that was G’reg. If anyone was trying to track the irritated beast, they would only have to follow the wake of stunned, angered or prone people he left in his wake.

“Out of the way fools!” he snarled as he pushed a path through a particularly congested intersection, barely keeping himself from upsetting a large cart of goods being ferried along to its intended destination

G’reg had always loathed crowds, he never liked the busy market of his youth, he had dispised the crowds that gathered when the first of the outlanders arrived on his planet and more recently, he had come to absolutely hate the mass of humanity that generally presented itself when he found himself on one of these orbiting space hulks they called stations.

However, the old ways were dead, this was the unfortunate future for his people. He had the foresight to realize that the Torontonians would arrive in swarms, fighting for prime space and resources and erecting crowded metropolis hubs where they could all congregate and lord over whatever natives still clung to the old ways

After much searching he managed to find the small spa that had been the pre-arranged meeting location. Swallowing a gulp of air, he managed to calm him frayed demeanor and strolled inside, working his way up to the reception and then splaying his clawed fingers down on the table as he shifted his weight onto his hands, causing the fabricated desk to groan under the pressure.

“Can… Can I help you uh… Sir?” The Female Megan replyed, obviously startled to see such an exotic creature inquiring for service

“Yes you can miss, I would like to set up an appointment for a full treatment, whatever that entails. As you can see my claws have gotten much to long, and dull for that matter. My scales have become dry and flaky from prolonged space travel and finally, my feet have just been aching from walking around all cycle in cramped quarters. Ship designed for humans generally do not accommodate my… Pediometric proportions” G’reg swooned, hopefully being convincing

“Why certainly Sir, we can have that all arranged, when would you like this to be scheduled?” The attendant replied

“Preferably right away, my ship leaves within the hour” G’reg politely responded

“Well. Uh… I don’t know if we have any attendants available that would be able to accommodate your… unique needs, let me just check here… Wait a minute, yes we do have an opening. It’s a name I don’t recognize, must be new here. Anyway, says she’s got credentials for Reptilian races, so I’ll put you through right away” The attendant continued

“How will you be paying for this Sir?”

“Do you take Torontonian Inkits?” G’reg inquired

“Why sir! This is Fantoma Traders! Of course we take foreign currency here!” The attendant enthusiastically responded “With today’s exchange rate of 2.13 Rupies per Inkit, you bill will come to $215”

“My, that’s quite the price tag you’ve got there” G’reg said softly

“We offer only the best services the Megan people can offer” The attendant replied

“Very well, but expect complaints if I am not satisfied” G’reg chuckled as he handed over his ‘personal’ monetary assistant to have the funds transferred. None of it was in his name of course, but it still retained the acronym of PMA.

“Thank you Mr… Aqutkans, you’ll be in Pod 23, right down the hall and take a left” The attendant instructed as the door slid open revealing a long, slender hallway lined with doors before taking a sharp turn “Make sure not to disturb any of the other patrons with your… Unique habits”

You mean ‘Don’t knock anything over or scare any of the returning customers you stupid alien’ G’reg thought harshly Xenophobic Bitch, probably hasn’t even set foot out of her own system in her whole life, there’s a whole galaxy out there to explore, and you’re content to sit and take appointments for people who can’t even care for their own bodies!

G’reg figured that the attendant that would be ‘treating’ him would be the informant, the situation fit, he was in the room furthest away from the main surveillance area, and the name didn’t click with the main attendant in the front. It seemed like it would be a quick and painless operation. However, that quickly turned out to be a fallacy in judgment

As he stepped into the room he saw a chair that had been modified to sit someone with a tail, but not someone of his proportions. Fitting himself into the contraption was still quite a struggle, and he feared that all the groaning issuing from it was signaling its imminent collapse in a few moments. He was wondering what the deal with the entire get up was when he was startled by the door opening. The apparent contact was a man in his mid-years, for humanoid standard, who was thorough in his disguises. He had all the equipment necessary to perform every procedure he had ordered, G’reg felt a pang of dread welling up in his stomach.

“So… Mr. Aqutkans, My name is Colin and I’ll be your attendant today. Before we get started I was given these earbuds while I was on my way here, I’m not sure what they’re for but the worker was insistent that you got them before I started. He said you should listen to them right away. If you have any concerns before we get started, I’d speak them now”

“Thank you, I believe that I may be having second thoughts about the whole procedure, if you would just give me time to listen to whatever is on these” G’reg replied, getting antsy about sharing the small space with another human

“If you wish Sir, but I’ll be starting in five minutes whether you like it or not, I have a schedule to keep” The attendant replied

“I’m sure that will not be necessary” G’reg growled as he slipped the buds into his ears.

As soon as he put them in a voice flooded into his head

Are you picking this up? Good.

G’reg jerked his head, trying to discern where the voice was coming from, but only attracting the attention of Colin, who was prepping the equipment

Don’t act like you’re looking for me, that’s not important. Just pretend that you are listening to a very stressful message, like the death of a family member, or whatever you things have

“Who are you, and where are you?” G’reg mumbled

“Pardon?” Colin inquired

“Nothing” G’reg responded “Just get to your work”

Try not to talk to me, It’ll just make you look crazy. Anyway, as I said, who I am is not important. I’m paid by your government to make transactions like this. But this is a especially risky endeavor, and if you get caught I’m not putting my life on the line in case you spill the beans

“Alright, have it your way coward. Now where is the information?” G’reg muttered

You see that Briefcase over there in the corner? G’reg glanced to confirm that there was indeed a medium sized briefcase propped up against the corner table

“Like that isn’t suspicious” G’reg muttered

Hey, I’m a fan of the classics! This is how they did it back on Terra you know

“Neither you nor I are from that planet you Idiot, now get to the point” G’reg snapped, albeit quietly

Fine, fine. The briefcase has approximately Twelve Billion Rubies in it. Of course only a small fraction of it is in petty cash, enough to fill the briefcase. The rest of it is in an attached monetary assistant, along with a datapad with the coordinates and the time of the drop off. These people will only stop once, if you miss them they’ll leave and we’ll likely never be contacted again, so don’t screw it up. And…

The orders were interrupted by a loud snarl as G’reg nearly took off the attendants head

“Jeeze! Keep your civilities up Sir, you HAVE been to a spa before haven’t you? We do eventually start servicing our clients”

“My Apologies, this message is very disconcerting, I did not… Expect you to start so abruptly”

“You only told me so sir”

“So I did, continue on”

Don’t like the ‘bad man’ touching you in your ‘special place’ Savage? The voice chuckled

“The operation he is performing, the rubbing off of dead and worn scales is done only by myself or by a mate! Or by a family member if one is still young. To have it done by a complete stranger is… violating!” G’reg snorted into himself

Whatever, I don’t know what your government was thinking when it allowed your kind into its citizenry. Either way, you have the instructions, the coordinates and the money. So if you don’t mind me, I’m going to terminate this connection before ‘the man’ catches on and gets wind of our little plot

There was a bleep of the connection being cut off followed by a head-piercing noise issued by the earbuds. Yanking them from his ear he threw them onto the floor in frustration. Once again he was being lead by the nose, and once again he was denied the respect a warrior deserved

“Enough of this nonsense! I’m leaving!” Snarled G’reg, hoisting himself up from the chair and knocking over the cart of supplies

“But Sir, the procedure is only half complete, and we still have your nails to file and your feet to rub!” The attendant complained

“I have no time for this, I can finish the procedures easily enough myself. I don’t need your incompetence to bungle it up!” G’reg roared grabbing for the briefcase and heading out the door

“I don’t have to deal with this!” Retorted Colin as he picked up the spilled supplies that weren’t entirely ruined “I don’t have to deal with you beasts, get out! Take your filthy customs and leave! I don’t know why I even bother with you lot! I think we should follow the Facehuggerian doctrine and Exterminate every one of you pests!”
G’reg turned and seized the man by the throat in his powerful grip, allowing his claws to uncomfortably pinch the back of the mans neck fat. He narrowed his eyes into reptilian slits and whispered into his ear

“You are fortunate that I really do not have the time to deal with the likes of you, or else I would be dining on your entrails at this very moment, then you’ll have an idea of what real savagery is like!” He hissed

He threw the attendant against the wall, indenting the pre-fabricated barrier and sending pictures toppling to the floor. The attendant slumped over, unconscious but alive. He would live to be haunted by the memories of the Lizardman pushed too far…

Storming out of the spa, he barely heard the concerned petitions of the main attendant

“…Sir! Your treatment ending prematurely and there was a disturbance in your unit! Is everything alright?”

He did not dignify it with an answer; instead he set his sights straight for the docking bays, so he could be closer to ridding himself of this station…

Back at the Docking Bays

Brent looked puzzlingly at the Foreman of the supplies he was loading onto his ship. He seemed to be battling his own personal demons. He didn’t give it much thought, he could only gaze at the large boxes that were being loaded into the cargo bay. As he turned back to the Foreman he caught G’reg making his way through the crowd, and he didn’t seem to happy. He could only attempt to get out of the way so that the Nubian could get back on the ship without much delay

However, before that he had to deal with current issues.

“So, is there anywhere you want me to sign or are we free to go? I’m a busy Captain you know, I can’t sit here dawdling all day with pleasantries…”

Mihkael had never seen himself as one for the space freighting trade. In college, he'd dreamed of being a research scientist at the prestigious Frederick Alexander Corporate Laboratory on Regenius II. Of course most young gravitonic physics majors had the same dream, and so he in a way, he understood when they didn't call him after the interview.

Apparently though, Corporate institutions share personnel databases, and so he received a call a few months later from a man who represented the Regen Security Force Weapons Development Branch. That time, he got the job.

After several years of R&D work, he was approached by a RSF Sky Colonel who had an interesting proposition. He would undergo the same sublim trainging that RSF Black Ops operatives (some of the most feared soldiers in the settled systems) undergo, and receive bionic and gene therapy enhancements, the best that money could buy, and he would continue being a scientist, but this time on a research flight in the Nubian system of Torontonias. Plus, he wasn't going to argue with the generous raise in pay grade.

The rest as they say, is history. As Mihkael came out of his moment of reverie, the crates of, he checked the ledger and saw the contents were undisclosed, marched on into the belly of the ship. Probably drugs, Mihkael thought, certainly not anything too valuable or they wouldn't be using us. Or maybe that's just it... maybe it's so valuable that they're trying to sneak it out system in a little boat like ours. He'd make a report of it before they left the station. He'd bury it in code in one of his habitual "letters home".

Past the crates, Mihkael saw Greg turn a corner and come back towards the bay. As Greg approached, Mihkael was surprised to see a smooth sheen on Greg's scales. He'd mentioned something about needing to see a relative in dire financial straits. There was something that set red flags in Mihkael's mind about that whole affair. Furthermore, Mihkael agreed with Esdras, it was odd for Nubians to be this far out system so soon after their "discovery".

The waxy look did nothing to help Mihkael feel more at ease with the situation, and he was sure at this point that Greg was the lying, cheating reptile that his appearance made sadly ironic.

Mihkael was curious enough about the whole situation to ask Greg, "Does your relative own a salon, or did you just find the time afterwards for the old hot wax treatment?"

G’reg was certainly capable of making quite the scene. Even the security teams who constantly monitored the closed circuit video surveillance were having a chuckle, and commenting on how glad they were that they were sitting comfortably at their monitors and enjoying the show. Esdras, however, was trailing the large lizardman, as his curiosity had been piqued by G’reg’s haste.

Following G’reg proved to be easy enough, as Esdras simply needed to slip through the literal wake created by G’reg’s speedy stroll. At one point, he even managed to send a Megan backpedalling into another who was holding her baby. The impact nearly knocked them both down, had Esdras not reacted quickly and grabbed the lady, preventing her fall. At the same time, G’reg had breached the crowd, and with his wake gone, had disappeared. Esdras utilized his height to peer over the heads of most of the bustling crowd, trying desperately to catch a glimpse of the large creature. It shouldn’t be this har….there! Slipping around the corner into a corridor was the flailing end of G’reg’s tail. Esdras hurriedly fought through the crowds, finding it difficult with no wake to follow in, until he reached the corner.

Making a left, Esdras was surprised to see the corridor dead end into a salon of sorts that catered to foreigners. Inside the lobby windows, he could see G’reg speaking with the desk clerk.

And to think he had gotten all worked up over nothing. Esdras, his curiosity sated, decided that G’reg, while certainly eccentric by Megan standards, was truly harmless, and his hurry was probably due to the fact that he hadn’t had access to any sort of special hygienic procedures since leaving home. That made sense, Esdras supposed. He logged the whole incident in the back of his mind and moved on.
Reorienting himself, Esdras began walking back towards the docks, when a glimmer caught his attention. He looked up and to the side, and a wave of nostalgia crept through his body like ice was being channeled into his very veins. His gaze leveled at the module before him, which contained a bar inside. Although it had no windows, the door was propped open, and Esdras stood close enough to see the ruddy browns and dark greens that colored the walls and tables of the establishment. The sign above the door read “Traven’s Tavern,” and at some point in its history had lit up in full neon, but now only a few letters still did so.

Esdras strode into the bar, his demeanor immediately changing to that of every other patron; quiet and unconcerned about the world around them. A jazzy sort of music played in the background, flooding more pangs of memory through Esdras. His attention turned to the muted voices that created a low rumble, trying to pick out conversations here and there. A heavy-set fellow was joking with his comrade about how he had ditched his latest ex-wife, and his friend seemed mildly amused. Another, smaller man seemed to be discussing the injustices committed by his employers with a co-worker, who nodded enthusiastically as the man presented each point to his case.

The bar was in and of itself nothing unusual at all. And that is what made it so unique. Esdras could only surmise that its real function was still the same, as the bar itself was still here after all these years. He resolved that he would take the risk and find out.

Seating himself at the proper table, he placed an order for the correct alcoholic beverage and complimented the waitress in just the right way, and left the rest to fate. He figured that one of three scenarios would play out: nothing would happen, he would enjoy his drink and the waitress was quite attractive anyway; his plan would work and he would soon be contacted; or he had just made the biggest, and last, mistake of his life. A heavy sigh and another glance around the room settled his nerves a bit, and the waitress returned with his drink, and a bill.

Or at least, what appeared to be a bill, although it shouldn’t have arrived that early.

It read:

A stargazer has many purposes, some not so obvious.

Interesting. This had never happened before. The line was a reference to a children’s tale from ancient times in Megas. It was harmless enough unless one knew about the secretive organization of information-gatherers that called themselves by the same name. Ironically, it was also an alcoholic drink native to Megas. Esdras decided to play along. He waved to the waitress and ordered a Stargazer. She smiled and hurried off to the counter.

Several minutes later, a strong hand landed on Esdras shoulder, nearly causing him to leap to his feet and act in defense. The powerful grip loosened as the man wheeled around and sat down across from Esdras. Staring back at him, Esdras beheld a man roughly his own age, with short, cropped, green hair, skin a tint of violet, and a physique that looked to far outmatch his own, although his loose, unbuttoned coat would not betray that to the casual observer.

“Hello, Esdras.”

The man’s familiar voice was smooth and soft, but carried a tone of certainty and confidence. Esdras smiled, his gamble had paid off.

“Renol, I wasn’ expectin’ you. When ‘id you take over duties here?”

“Why, Esdras, I don’t know what these duties you’re talking about are, but it is good to see an old friend again.” Renol replied, a smile on his face as well, but a stern, knowing look in his eyes.

Esdras just nodded at that statement. It had been quite some time since he had spoken with a stargazer, and was only just refreshing his memory of the lingo.

“I see, well, what happen’d to ol’ Don? Haven’ seen him in a good long while.”

Renol was far more pleased with this reprisal. “Donovar passed on some years ago, the habits finally caught up with him. You know how he was.”

So, Donovar was discovered then? The Megan judicial system did not take kindly to couriers of sensitive information to benefit activities labeled ‘criminal’ in alignment. He had probably been quickly and quietly put to death. It amazed Esdras to think that at one point in his life, that could have, probably would have, been him.

“Ah, I see. The ol’ fool. Well, I always knew since we studied together that you’d be one to take after him.” Esdras pushed as far as he could with that statement, although no one who might be listening could have distinguished the references.

“Yes. So, how can an old friend help you out, Esdras?”

Business time.

“Well, I was lookin’ to see if I could get some ol’ family photos from you. My cap’n just got us a new ship and I was thinkin’ I should do somethin’ to liven it up a bit. At least my room, anyway.”

It was a request to be brought up to speed on what all was happening in the black sector. Renol nodded, and handed over a datapad.

“There’s quite a few of those in there, from all sorts of parties and gatherings, and not to mention that camping trip to Karbarra.”

Esdras took the datapad and looked at it briefly before pocketing the item. So, it contained information on recent military raids on criminal organizations, and some incident of significance which occurred on Karbarra. He made a mental note to read up on it.

“Thankee, Renol. It’s been a pleasure, but I’m afraid I mus’ be goin’.”

They stood and shook hands, and Renol departed toward the back of the establishment as Esdras keyed scanned his monetary pad over the datapad that contained his bill, and left.



Back at the docks

G’reg had already made his way back to the ship by the time Esdras arrived, and the work crew was nearly done loading the cargo into the bay. Brent was chatting with the crew leader, and Esdras strolled over to the hatch in time to overhear Mikhail’s inquiry. Before the lizardman could answer, Esdras intervened.

“Well, a lizard’s gotta do what a lizard’s gotta do, right G’reg?” Esdras grinned outwardly but felt his curiosity rise again as he noticed the large creature clutching a briefcase that he had not possessed when departing earlier. That was strange, but Esdras couldn’t put a finger on any suspicion, and dismissed it for the time being.

Glancing over at Brent and the crew leader, he watched as Brent was given a datapad with a set of coordinates and an account number which would contain their payment after the completion of the delivery. He made his way over as the leader departed with his crew with haste.

“They coulda at leas’ shut the door huh?” Esdras chuckled to Brent, who did not seem pleased at all at the moment.

Just outside Megan Space

The fleet winked into existence where before there had been nothing. In scanning range of the listening network that ringed the border of Megan territory, the ships, while close, were not technically in Megan space. The two science ships they were ‘escorting’ also went through the process of identifying themselves to the Megan Space Corps with their intentions to observe the radiation fields of a decaying Red Giant sun in a neighboring system with extremely sensitive instruments.

“The Locals seemed to have bought it sir” Lieutenant Dolby whispered from his vantage point above the Commodore, then more clearly stated “The head scientist aboard the TSP Endeavour reports that they have the all clear from the MSC to conduct research near the border, and the two TSP ships are moving off.

“Excellent news Dolby” Commodore Jutenburg sighed, knowing that one more step in this madhouse plan was falling into place “Send them a message that we have received orders from HQ requesting that we investigate reports of pirate activity inside Megan territory that has been launching raids into Torontonias”

“Aye aye sir” Dolby replied

“Sir? We haven’t received any communications from Headquarters in the last twelve hours, when did we get these new orders?” Ensign Jakobs asked suspiciously

“Ensign! How long ago did you complete training? Because last time I checked, the lower ranks obeyed orders of the higher ranks in this organization!” Jutenburg bellowed

The kid is a sharp one, not much gets pass him. He may need to be rotated off the command deck if he keeps this up. Hopefully that did the trick for now Jutenburg privately thought

“Now, set in a course to the pirate base inside Megan territory Ensign!, and relay it to the rest of the fleet, hopefully we won’t need to be there very long” Jutenburg growled

“…Yessir, the captains acknowledge your command” the Ensign replied sheepishly

Without fanfare, the fleet slipped away from the two science vessels and moved inside the invisible barrier that represented the Megan border. No doubt alarms would be going off somewhere that a large force of active attack vessels were moving past, but for what they were doing, it was unlikely a picket force would be able to respond in time, and if they did, they would find the fleet much to large to be able to press any action or charges against them.

After the fleet was safely on course to Hansan, a small moon in a backwater system not far inside Megan territory, Jutenburg rose from his command chair. Signaling to the tactical officer, he spoke

“Junior Lieutenant Raskin, you have the bridge, Lieutenant Dolby come with me” Jutenburg requested as he moved towards the exit from the bridge

Once outside in the hallway, the Lieutenant spoke his mind

“What’s bothering you Commodore? You haven’t been yourself since we left dock.”

“Dolby, nothing is more pressing than making sure than getting sure this mission is completed, but this whole thing rubs me the wrong way. I thought we were supposed to be Defending Torontonian interest, not aggressively pursuing it inside another soverign nations borders.” Jutenburg complained

“I know Marty, but when command comes from higher up, you can’t readily ignore it unless you want to lose your job, especially not one like this” Dolby responded “And remember, we’re the Torontonian Combined Forces now, we’ve got a compliment of marines aboard the ship that used to be in the Army, but now we’re one big happy family according to command”

“And it just doesn’t feel right! That we’re out here and we’re… worrying about burning out our capacitors for the weapons! They just don’t make them like they used to, what if we run into anything with heavier…” Jutenburg changed tack as a minor crewman scurried by on his own important mission

“…That we’re out here risking life and limb, for what? To ensure that we have one more tool to bludgeon our allies with?”

“I know, but we need to comply with orders or else it’ll be our skins rather than some poor smugglers” Dolby concluded

The conversation ended once they reached the Commodores office, stepping in they found Colonel Briggs waiting patiently for them

“So what’s this all about sir? Calling me away from my duties when the crew is most likely to be gossiping about this mission of ours, or what was our mission…” Briggs said gruffly

“I know Briggs, but I called you all in to go over the final leg of this mission. I picked up a message on a deep space bouy from command about how all this is going to go down.” Jutenburg began “The agent that intel has placed with the smugglers is going to set up of locator beacon on the ship when they jump into the system. It’ll tip us off on where to pounce. Now, Command thinks that the MSC is going to get a whiff of this real fast and come down hard on the smugglers, and they don’t want anyone with information getting caught up.”

“We’re going to seize the goods, and then we’re going to ‘arrest’ the spy on grounds of piracy, it’s a Nubian so he shouldn’t be too hard to pick out. Then we’re going to perform a series of jumps, one out into deep space in case they track us, one through some backwater ESUS system, and finally back to Nubia Station” Jutenburg continued

“Briggs, I need you to enforce the official line that we’re going after some pirates to keep the crew placid, the last thing we need is some contentious objector tipping off the MSC, we may not have deep space communications, but they can still get in touch with the MSC through short range systems.” Jutenburg finished

“Shouldn’t be hard sir” Briggs confirmed, “Now if you don’t mind me, I have a crew to attend to” as he saluted and left

Jutenburg turned to Dolby, his face cloudy

“Alright Dolby, lets go finish this job” Jutenburg said darkly, then rose to return to the bridge, his Lieutenant in tow

Aboard the Fantoma Trader

Brent glanced at the datapad as his crew trickled back to the ship after getting some leave time in, however short. He noticed that G’reg seemed to be in a foul mood when he returned to the ship, as well as a look of having his skin shed but stopping halfway. He figured that whatever had happened to him, it was best to stay out of his way for the time being.

He trusted the Nubian, he was one of the more promising crew members he had had in a long time, after Esdras of course, his energetic crewman who had been around since he inadvertently brought the Nubians into the Autocracy, they had made the discovery of the race themselves, while attempting to salvage a probe launched from a science ship.

No, G’reg was a fast learner, and he always seemed to have an opinion about something. Although he found the ship only a few months earlier, he had always put his considerable bulk to good use in the runnings of the ship. He never complained, although he didn’t really partake with the socialization with the crew, which was fine with him, Brent only really socialized with Esdras and Mihkael to any extent, the rest of them were really just nameless shambles that drifted and changed from mission to mission. Not to mention that the ship had a tiny crew compliment of 6.

But there was something about G’reg he couldn’t quite place. Something that bonded the two of them together, it may have just been a common nationality, or the fact that they both seemed to have bitter histories and sought the vastness of space as a means to forget it all, it was something… But he couldn’t place it.

Esdras interrupted his introspection, as he often did, and realized he was endlessly scrawling to the bottom of his datapad. Snapping out of it he smiled at Esdras

“Indeed, whatever they were unloading onto us, they wanted to be rid of it in a hurry. I imagine it is our problem now. Either way, let’s get out of here, I want to pass this stuff off to the next interested party before the wrong eyes come peering down our way, according to the roster we’ve got some stuff that even I would find offensive, and I don’t want to be the one explain our way out if we get caught” Brent bantered as he walked up the gangway to the Nubian Glory

Once aboard, he got Esdras to key in the coordinates of their drop off, once again Brent got an uneasy feeling

“You know Esdras, for the amount that this job is paying; we don’t have to do anything overly complicated. We don’t have to run any blockades, bypass any national borders, evade any patrols, nothing! We just have to make one simple jump to some moon, Kanshan, Banflan…” Brent paused to consult the information “Hansan, and meet up with whoever wants all this stuff! I can’t imagine anyone would ever be so naive as to think that paying some ruffians an exhorbant amount for such a simple job would work, but I guess it did.”

Brent brooded, it didn’t make very much sense at all, but then again not very much of the last few years had, it had all been so cluttered and explosive, it still bothered him that there seemed to be something that was out of his control in the grand scheme of this simple mission, something that was nagging him that he should never have taken up the offer of a job found in Esdras’es pocked when he found him passed out by the ship.

“I guess I have to just shake down those bad feelings eh Esdras? I won’t make much of a smuggler if a stress myself to death. Might as well get those coordinates locked in and make the jump, I want to get out of this contract ASAP”

Elsewhere on the Nubian Glory

G’reg let out a deep low growl as he used a scrubbing utensil to scrape the rest of his molting scales off, leaving a sharp shine and the fresh new ones as they were exposed to the air. After the embarrassment the entanglement at the spa had caused him, he wasn’t sure if he ever wanted to leave the ship again. However, despite what sort of comic relief the rest of the crew was using him for, they would soon regret it. He had the connections and the foreknowledge of what would come, and knowing he would be safe from it, he allowed himself a small smile against what had happened today.

“Those fools will come to regret taking on this mission very soon, and I’ll be the one left laughing, all the way back to Torontonian territory.” He chuckled to himself, holding the beacon that would draw whatever force the TCF had sent out to collect their prize. It was a small thing really, not much bigger than a cup. When activated however, it emitted a powerful low band signal that would allow any ship within a few light years lock on to its position as long as it was looking for it. He would activate it and mount it on one of the walls in a common hallway as he was walking to the bridge after they jumped into the system.

He eyed the briefcase full of Megan currency propped up against his door, he wondered what the point of it was, it was presumably for whoever was getting the Flower of Life, but they would be paying the captain for his business, not the other way around

Either way, it must be important G’reg thought to himself

For now, as he waited, he busied himself informing his superiors that the game was in play.

Log: Torontonian Public Access Network
Connecting…
….
…..
…...
Connection Established
Connect: Black_Sheepchat
Connection…
Conection Established
Run: BLInfochat.exe
Running…
Connecting…
Connection Established

Torontonian Disinformation Ministry Chatnet, Please enter username

Log: Nubian_in_Mercs_Clothing

Welcome Agent G’reaglix! You have been placed in DISCOMNET5

Nubian_in_Mercs_Clothing: We have the package, and are jumping into the target system momentarily

Boss_man: Excellent, the fleet will be waiting to get the package and extract you, although expect a few surprises, we don’t want anyone suspecting you of any activity, it could get messy

Nubian_in_Mercs_Clothing: Understood, G’reaglix out

Logging off…

The jump followed shortly after he concluded his business with his handler, he got up, relishing the fact that he would be returning to somewhere he could get a proper mudbath and stretch his tail out and left his quarters beacon in hand in a much more pleasant mood than the one he had entered with.

As he was walking toward the bridge, and making sure no one was around, he keyed in the activation code and confirmed that the beacon was functional, then he peeled off the film keeping the adhesive compound dormant, and placed it between some exposed conduits where it was unlikely to draw much attention.
G’reg then continued to the bridge where he greeted the captain with his new sheen, contentedly returning to his station and monitoring for the arrival of the Torontonian fleet on a secluded corner of a screen while keeping an eye out for the ship.

Before long, a small Megan vessel appeared on the far side of Hansan, and G’reg went through the motions

“Captain, we have the buyer on scans, it seems to be Megan in origin, shall we hail them?”

“That we shall G’reg, as I was explaining to Esdras shortly before, I want to get rid of this shipment as fast as possible, so open a channel identifying our intentions to our buyer.”

Yes… You are wise to want to be rid of this cargo, it could be your end if you don’t play your cards right G’reg thought privately

He sent out the message dutifully however, showing no hostility that he held in his heart in his actions. He also sent out the attachment that confirmed what cargo that the ship was actually carrying, as instructed in his briefcase of Megan Money. Whatever the jig was, it was soon to be up…

“It’s just a retrieval, Mac, we’re in, we’re out. Nothing to it,” the man said to his partner sitting in the pilot’s seat.

“I know, Arj, it’s not this mission I’m doubting, it’s the plan in general. The bigger picture I mean. I’ve been thinking, and-”

A quick wave of Arj’s hand cut Mac off.

“We don’t pay you to think, Mac. Look, you’re a brilliant pilot, and nobody knows the trade routes and checkpoints better than you, but anything outside that is not your area of expertise. Keep your misgivings to yourself, before someone starts to notice.”

Arj accompanied the end of his lecture with a quick gesture to the passenger’s compartment. Mac nodded, his expression turning sour for only a few seconds before returning impassive. Arj, pleased with the belittling he had given his underling, headed aft to the passenger’s compartment.

Stepping inside, he took a seat next to a communications terminal where the third member of their group was stationed. His presence was greeted only by a grunt.

“Hern, do you not know the meaning of mannerisms?” Another voice said from behind them.

“He has always been this way, Telan, it stopped bothering me long ago,” Arj responded.

“Hmm…very well then, Arjman. The rendezvous time approaches, you haven’t seen anything on sensors, yet, Hern?”

Hern did not respond, but simply continued monitoring the display before him.

“Hern….Hern?” Telan continued.

Arjman cut him off, “If he had seen something he certainly would have said something, Telan. Patience…”

“Vessel approaching, Megan Port Authority codes identify it as a merchant vessel. They’re hailing us….they have sent the proper identification code, they have the shipment.” Hern suddenly interjected.

“Well then…” Telan said as he grinned at Arjman.

“Send a response to begin docking maneuvers.” Arjman said, grinning as well.

“Captain” G’reg nodded towards his screen “The buyers vessel has completed docking procedures and are requesting permission to come aboard”

“Grant their permissions G’reg, we’ll meet them at the airlock. Esdras, you’re coming too, I want to make sure that we have a nice Megan face to greet these people with, never know who may be a returning customer. Besides, I need to know whether these people are legit.” Brent grinned towards his pilot

“Keep my seat warm” Brent commented to a minor crewman before leaving the bridge “Let me know if anything unusual shows up”

A chorus of “Yessirs” followed them as they clambered away towards the ships airlock, G’reg nervously glanced up towards where the beacon was pounding away. Although no ear this side of extremely sensitive would be able to hear it, it reminded him of Edgar Allen Poes story, a Tell-tale heart, No one could hear it, but he certainly could. Its damning rhythms threatened to drive him mad if his pickup didn’t arrive soon.

One the greeting party made it to the airlock, Brent keyed in the command code and the door slid open soundlessly, revealing their buyers identity.

“Hello Captain, pleasure to meet you!” Brent greeted, extending his hand in friendship

“I can’t imagine better circumstances to meet you under, I’ve had my suspicions that this cargo is quite important, so I’m sure you’ll be in a hurry to get it out of my hold and into your so you can be on your way. However, can I interest you in a drink first? I’ve got a good bottle of Kanuckistani Brandy that I’ve been saving for a special occasion but I would imagine that the completion of a deal is cause enough!”

Brent paused in thought for a moment, as if contemplating something

“On second though, how about I take you to your cargo straight away and we can talk about celebrations later, as I said earlier, I have a feeling you’re quite anxious to get this cargo into your hands.”

Without further Brent turned, flanked by G’reg and Esdras and led the entire group towards the ships voluminous storage bay. Although it looked quite barren and generic from the outset, with only a few boxes of goods that the crew required to keep happy, looks could be deceiving

Brent once again keyed in an access code, and a significant portion of the central cargo area slid away revealing a large hidden compartment capable of storing up to several large military pieces, which Brent had done before, currently occupying the cavernous spaces were several plain boxes that no doubt contained what the buyers so gravely wanted.

Grinning Brent concluded “I’m sure that you’ve seen everything you need to see, now perhaps we could negotiate the price for delivering these fair goods…”

Inside Megan Space

Dolby visibly relaxed when he noticed a spike of noise on a minor frequency, it was the signal that all was in order and they weren’t currently risking a full blown intergalactic incident for nothing

“Commodore, we’re picking up the tracking signal that command said would be activated shortly after we entered Megan Space, it looks like the Mole wasn’t so unreliable after all” The Lieutenant of the Bridge reported

“Good, good. Begin extrapolating the position of the signal and then imput it into the jump calculator, once a safe coordinate can be calculated, lock the rest of the fleet in and prepare to jump” Jutenburg ordered

“Alright Sir, should only take a few moments, we’ve got a strong signal making its way to us, they can’t be too far”

As if to confirm Lieutenant Dolby’s conviction, the jump calculator notified that a safe jump coordinate had been calculated but a few minutes later.

“Stellar Cartography confirms that the beacon is located near a moon named Hansan, looks like its some backwater system in Megan territory, shouldn’t be very many locals to notice our arrival” Ensign Jakobs reported

“It only makes sense, Pirates don’t base themselves in heavily populated sectors, it’d be too noticeable. Looks like they’re taking what the thought the safe way was and holed up in some far off system.” Jutenburg commented, before ordering the ships to jump

God willing, we’ll get this over with quickly and not come to arms over something so foolish Jutenburg thought as the sensation of timelessness passed over his body, and in the blink of an eye the fleet was deep within Megan territory

“Sir, we’ve got two ships that are docked with each other on the far side of Hansan, doesn’t look as if they’ve noticed us” Jakobs reported

“Perfect, we’ll sneak up on them before they’re noticed they’re no longer alone” Jutenburg commented icily

“Sir? Aside from these two ships, there is no other anomalous activity on the moon, or in the system for that matter. It would appear that there are in fact, no pirates here, only what appear to be smugglers” Jakobs reported, with an overtone of smugness

“Ensign, sometimes intelligence makes mistakes, but it looks like we won’t be leaving here empty handed. Last time I checked, shipping through falsely-registered entities is still illegal in Torontonias isn’t it?” Jutenburg challenged

“Yessir, but…” Jakobs protested

“But nothing! We’re an extension of Torontonian authority in Megan space, we’re going to seize the cargo and leave these chuckleheads to get caught by the MSC, and I’d be careful what you say on the bridge Ensign Jakobs, you’re dangerously close to insubordination!” Jutenburg continued, visibly angered by the Ensigns inquisitiveness

“Yessir” Jakobs cowed

“Sir, we’re hailing what appears to be the smuggling ship, but it looks like they’re ignoring us for the time being” Dolby reported

“Very well, prepare boarding parties, If they don’t want to give it up freely we’ll take it by force” Jutenburg ordered

Back on the Nubian Glory

While in the Cargo hold, the intercom flared up with an excited crew members chattering, calling for their captain

Walking up to it, he was informed that they had just been pounced upon by a sizeable Torontonian force. He glanced around between Esdras, G’reg and the buyers. He knew that what he thought was a bad situation was about to get a whole lot worse

Arjman stood at the entrance to the airlock for what seemed like an eternity. Behind him were several able-bodied men who would move the cargo from the Nubian Glory on to their own ship. Finally, the airlock slid open. He was greeted by one who immediately introduced himself as the captain. Causby's offer of the Kanuckistani beverage did tempt him, but he was glad that it was withdrawn shortly thereafter.

"Yes hello captain. We would like to see the cargo as soon as possible." Straight to business.

As Causby led them to the cargo hold, Arjman could not help but feel helpless by the presence of the large reptilian creature before him. He had heard tales of such creatures existing in other nations, such as the Sskiss, but never had he actually seen one before. The thing looked like it could take on a fully grown Karbarran and survive! He quickly overcame the momentary panic caused by the hulking lizard man and turned his attention to the other individual flanking Brent. He was obviously Megan by birth, his skin the same shade of violet as Arjman's. The man's demeanor was lazy, and overconfident, even childish, as he even tripped over part of the bulkhead and grinned sheepishly, clearly embarassed. But his eyes...there was something different about them. In the man's eyes Arjman could see...real confidence...stern knowledge...

Grinning Brent concluded “I’m sure that you’ve seen everything you need to see, now perhaps we could negotiate the price for delivering these fair goods…”

Snapping back to reality, Arjman had scarcely realized that they had arrived at the cargo hold, and that the captain had opened the door for them to examine the shipment.

"Right well, I think you'll find that we have everything that you need captain..."

Arjman began to draw a pistol from his coat, as did the rest of his men. The plan was simple, execute the captain and his crew, erase the databanks in the computer, and there would never be a record of this particular shipment of the Flower going missing. And that was when the summons came for Brent. The Torontonians had shown up.

"No! This wasn't suppposed to happen." He frantically glanced around to the rest of his lackies and nodded. Instantly, they all drew their weapons and trained them on Brent and his crew.

"You're under arrest by the authority of the Megan Civil Defense Organization. Kindly take us to the bridge and hail the Torontonians, and you may yet live."

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

Every civilization used different methods to attain faster-than-light travel. For Megas, it was hyperspace fold generator. Through the shared technology database in ESUS, the Megan Space Corps had a fairly decent idea of how each member nation's own FTL worked, Torontonias included. And thus, when the sensor buoy in orbit of the moon, Hansen, picked up the spatial anomalies of the Torontonian fleet, it quickly analyzed them and instantly transmitted the data via its internal fold array. Shortly thereafter, the Megan Space Corps responded. A small task force was formed, composed mostly of picket cruisers searching for smugglers and illicit trade running vessels; hardly the warships that made up the majority of the Megan fleet. The senior officer in command, Captain Jale Riner, had contacted half a dozen cruisers with rendevous coordinates for a simultaneous jump to Hansen.

“Looking like we’ve got company sir” Lieutenant Dolby reported

“What sort of company Lieutenant? More smugglers?” Commodore Jutenburg responded

“No Sir, it’s the MSC, they’ve whipped together a sort of ragtag fleet, mostly picket cruisers and trade runners.” The Lieutenant replied

“They shouldn’t be a problem then, are the marines ready?”

“Yes sir, they’re in the hangar awaiting your order.”

“Tell them to load onto the boarding craft, and then move in to dock with the Nubian Glory on my command”

“Sir! The Megan smuggler is still docked with that ship” Ensign Jakobs piped in

“Jakobs! You’re out of line!” Jutenburg bellowed “Leave your station and report to your quarters, you shall remain there for the duration for this mission. If you don’t face a court martial when you get back consider yourself lucky”

“Yes sir” The ensign replied, calmly leaving his station, looking visibly relieved to have been relieved. One of the deck officers quickly took his place.

“Sir, the marines are reporting all-ready from the boarding craft, they’re ready to launch.” Lieutenant Dolby said

“Good, open a hail to the MSC fleet” Jutenburg requested off his Communications officer

“This is Commodore Jutenburg of the Torontonian Anti-Trafficking Fleet, we have detected a ship operating under a false registration and engaging in trade with the Megan Imperium. We have only come to seize the goods that are in violation of standard Torontonian shipping law. Do not view this as an act of aggression on your fine nation.

However, be warned that this fleet is equip to deal with all matter of illegal trading activities, from minor smugglers to pirate fleets. Based on the outfit of the ships in your fleet, you are ill-armed to take on a fleet of this size. I would hate for this to become an intergalactic incident. You have been informed. Jutenburg out.”

Turning from the Communications array, Jutenburg noted to his weapons officer: “Target all forward batteries on the Megan smuggling ship docked with the Nubian Glory. It’ll need to be cleared before our boarding parties can move in.”

Now it was the Lieutenants time to second-guess “Sir, that ship probably has a crew complement of 30 Megans, do you really want to write off those lives? I was under the impression that we were supposed to avoid an incident.”

“Dolby, those people are smugglers, and as I said to Jakobs, last I checked smuggling was a high crime against our fair capitalist state, especially when they are smuggling items of high importance to national security. Do you understand?” Jutenburg inquired

“Yes sir!” the Lieutenant barked Although I don’t believe we should be writing off centuries of diplomatic peacekeeping like this…

“Now, target the Megan smuggler ship, fire all forward laser batteries on it to weaken their shields, and then punch through with rail rounds. If that doesn’t work, a few laser bolts should finish the job” Jutenburg ordered

“Confirmed Commodore” the weapons officer responded

The inky blackness of space lit up as green laser flashes erupted from the forward section of the Planar Wind. The flew across the vastness of space to pepper the shielding of the smaller smuggling vessel. The bombardment continued until the shields on the ship weakened and came to near collapse when the lead Torontonian vessel launched massive anti-capital ship rail rounds into the hull of the small ship. The bombardment, designed to help take down a capital class ship, quickly overwhelmed the smaller ship, clearing the way for the marines to come aboard.

“Alright then” Jutenburg commented after the docked smuggling ship was removed as a concern “Send in the marines”

Private Uteck shuffled uncomfortably in the cramped compartment of the boarding ship. Sharing the small space with 29 other marines, including Lieutenant Bradley wasn’t an experience he described as fun. He had joined the Naval Marines with the anticipation of an easy job, without the occupation duty the Army had, and without the constant work of the Navy. He had been right for the most part, but right now he felt as if he couldn’t have made a bigger mistake.

We’re just going to capture a dangerous Torontonian smuggler, he needs to be brought to justice thought Uteck, that was a summary of what the Lieutenant had said during the quick briefing before loading onto the ship. But why do I get the feeling that something bigger than we know is going on here?. The thought nagged at him. All his life Torontonias had been a peaceful nation, under the serene if sometimes forceful rule of Garett Perkins. Now he was off in an Alliance nation, taking part in threatening its military establishment. [i]If he was so dangerous, why didn’t we get the Megans to do it? Why are we all the way…[i]. Uteck’s thought was cut off as the ship lurched out of the docking bay and out into space.

The small ship launched out of the hangar of the Planar Wind and hurtled towards the damaged docking section of the Nubian Glory. Screaming across space at speeds meant to avoid incoming fire if the Megan fleet decided to make things interesting; it got to Brent’s ship in short order. Forcing a dock by magnetically sealing its airlock to the breached area and then using a gel that solidified into an air-tight rubbery substance, it created an impromptu walkway out of a blasted out ruin of a docking area.

“Listen up grunts!” Shouted Lieutenant Bradley “We’re going in hot, so keep an eye out for smuggler crew waiting for us on the other side. The docking mechanism is jammed, so we’re going to have to blow in the door, I don’t think that’ll endear us too much to the other side. The smuggler we’re looking for is a Nubian by the name of G’reaglix, we’re to capture him alive and seize the cargo they’re in the midst of transferring. It should be in an open space, intel suggests they were in the middle of transferring it. Lets go!”

Inside the Nubian Glory

“Listen, Fella’s…” Brent said with his hands in the air “I’m sure we could come to an acceptable arrangement. How about I “Refund” you 20% of the originally agreed price in cold, hard Rupies? I can do it, right now. You just have to put the gun down, what’dya say?” Brent said amicably as a bead of sweat danced on his forehead, he hadn’t faced this kind of situation in a long time, and he didn’t miss it.

He looked over the G’reg and then to Esdras, both had their hands in the air, but G’reg had his tail curled back under its base, a signal that he was ready to pounce. He was sure that Esdras would too be willing to aid him in a strike against his own countrymen if need came to it, Brent trusted him for that much. But they had them outgunned, Brent wasn’t sure he wanted to risk bloodshed just yet.

“So…? What do you think, I’m sure we could come to…” Brent was cut off by an excited yelp from the Communications grid

“Sir!” A staticy voice chattered “We’re seeing weapons fire from the Torontonian fleet directed at us… It’s impacting the docked Megan ship. What do we do?”

Brent looked at his would be captors and grinned “Stand firm Gerald, we’ll be fine down here” he the focused his eyes on the leader of the group. “Well, well” Brent said, drawing his hands towards his sidearm “Its looks like the classical tables have turned. I don’t think you’ll have any backup coming along any time soon, so how about you put down your weapons and come to the Brig before this get messy.”

As if to underscore his point, then was a loud explosion and the sounds of the airlock decoupling with the ship that had been there before. Brent winced, although it just saved his life, which the close order firing would end up costing him a bundle in repairs. Brent was still waiting for a response from the would be Megan Inspector when a new sound replaced the old.

There was the muffled impact in the general area of where the Megan ship used to be, along with a uncomfortable hissing noise.

Brent’s eyes widened
“They wouldn’t” he muttered, he wanted to go confirm his suspicions, but he was stuck in a state of deadlock with their backstabbing buyers.

His suspicion was confirmed when a burst of noise similar to a placed charge send fragments of the hull skittering into the cargo bay. Soon enough the entire place was swarming with Torontonian military figures all armed with state of the art Laser Carbines that was the new compact basic of the Torontonian ground forces.

“On your knees!” The leader shouted “On your knees or we’ll start making bodies here!”

Brent put on his friendliest face and inquired “Officer, what do I owe you the pleasure”

“On your knees Smuggler! We’re here for a crewmember named G’reaglix, and certain contraband items involved in the transaction here. Now are you going to cooperate? Or am I going to have to shoot your Megan friend beside you?”

"Captian I don't believe you understand the situation here..." Arjman began. Who did this Causby fellow think he was, offering to buy off Arjman with 20% of the rupies they weren't even going to pay in the first place. "You and your men are completely-"

Arjman was cut off by another message from the bridge. Seconds later, audible thumbs signaled the end of Arjman's ship. Causby attempted to play off of the recent developments, but it wasn't until the TSDC troopers stormed in that Arjman truly realized that things had gone sour, and quickly.

"Trooper!" Arjman yelled at the commander who was shouting orders, while keeping his gun leveled at Brent. "We are with the Megan Civil Defense Organization. We had just taken these smugglers into custody when you apparently destroyed my ship! This is Megan jurisdiction, you will leave this vessel at once!"

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

Esdras wasn't surprised. Only now he wasn't sure if things were going to work out like he had anticipated. He had hoped to be taken into custody by the Megans, but as it were, that possibility was looking far more remote. As the TSDC stormed onto the Nubian Glory, Esdras, for the first time in a very long while, became anxious. He looked on as Brent attempted to smooth talk out of the situation. That was good; it would keep the tension from escalating too quickly. But even that would only delay the inevitable. Something had to be done.

Suddenly, the barrel of the lead trooper's carbine came to bear on Esdras's face. His pulse quicked and his eyes narrowed, all fear and anxiety released as adrenaline flowed through his veins. And then he was calm. Slowly, Esdras knelt down, hoping that Brent would do the same.

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

"Fold action complete, sir," came the report from the helm officer.

"This can't be right..." muttered the tactical officer, "sir, I'm counting enough Torontonian vessels to comprise a full assault fleet."

Riner nearly allowed himself to slump in his command chair. Nearly. Instead, he did what any good commander would do, and rose to the occasion, literally. He strode to tactical station in one quick movement and stood aghast at the sheer numbers that his hastely formed fleet faced. In his mind, he could not reconcile this action by the Torontonian navy. It was simple unthinkable that they would encroach on Megan territory, a fellow ESUS member! And yet, encroach they had.

"Something's not right here captain," remarked Riner's first officer, as if he had been reading his captain's thoughts, "why would Torontonias invade?"

A quick look around the bridge by Riner revealed the same puzzled and desperate expression on all his officer's faces. They looked to him for answers, and he had none. Not wanting to meet their gazes and possibly betray his own uncertainty, he instead looked down again at the tactical displays. And then he noticed something odd. A pair of small civilian craft were positioned directly in front of the Torontonian fleet, between the invaders and his own ships.

"Leuitenant, what do we have here?" Riner asked the tac officer, gesturing at the display of the two vessels.

A quick scan revealed the crafts to be traderunners with legitimate port authority codes, and that they were docked with each other. They also appeared to be communicating with the Torontonian flagship.

"Okay, open a channel to the Torontonians...." a few clicks and an audible *beep* informed Riner that he could begin speaking. "Torontonian vessels, I am Captain Jale Riner of the MSC Reming. You are in violation of Megan territory and are guilty of what appears to be the invasion of a fellow ESUS ally. You will power down all ship systems not necessary for life support and navigation and leave this star system immediately. Please acknowledge."

A wave of Riner's hand informed the communications officer to cut the transmission.

"Loop that transmission until they respond. All ships target the lead vessel and bring weapons to bear. Tac, get the reflex cannon warmed up, if this comes to a shootout, we'll need it."

A chorus of "yes, sirs" rang out on the bridge as the crew prepared to go to war.

And then the TSDC responded. Their message was brief and demanding. They would have the Megan fleet stand aside in their own jurisdiction, their own territory, and observe as the TSDC apprehended what appeared to be legitimate trade vessels. Preposterous.

"Sir, the TSDC must know our ships outclass theirs. They don't even have shields! Our reflex cannons would convert them into so much scrap metal-"

"Were it so simple, leuitenant. We're heavily outgunned here. Hell, we only have six reflex cannons at our disposal. These ships are meant to avert piracy and defeat illicit trade, not take on a fleet of warships!" Riner responded.

"Captain! Torontonian lead vessel has just fired on....has just destroyed one of the trade vessels!" the tac officer exclaimed.

"How many were onboard?"

"Thirty-two, sir."

"Captain," began Riner's first officer, "they said they were here to apprehend smugglers, not to destroy a Megan trade ship! This is an act of war!"

"And what would you have me do about it?" Riner quipped, his voice scathing. "To fire on them is to doom this entire fleet. We can't win!" Riner settled down and his tone evened out, becoming almost cold. "We have an uplink to the nearest MSC defense outpost. By now, TASC is receiving our signals and are aware of the situation here. Unfortunately, I don't think that they'll be able to muster reinforcements in time to stop...whatever these warmongering TSDC fools are trying to accomplish."

Not satisfied, but accepting the logic in their captain's statement, the bridge crew of the Reming returned to monitoring their stations.

Inside the Nubian Glory

Brent didn’t need any time to consider the offer of the Torontonian Officer. He immediately got down on his knees with his hands behind his head, surrendering his sidearm to one of the groping marines; he was relieved that they were similarly disarming everyone else in the room who had surrendered.

He looked up at the Officer “Now that you’ve dealt with me, can you give me a moment to notify my crew of the situation? I don’t want anyone shot at because they didn’t know that the homeland defense has taken control of the ship”

***

Nodding, Lieutenant Bradley allowed the Captain one last indulgence. He was wise to ensure his crew didn’t do anything brash; he had enough men to kill the entire crew compliment twice over. Either way, Causby was going to rot in a Megan prison for a very, very long time, assuming everything went according to plan. He currently turned his attention to his last threat.

“If you really are with the Megan Civil Defense organization, then I should ask why your ship did not yield to hailing requests. Our fleet hailed the ship several times, presumably while you were on board here, and ignored every one of them. This ship only possesses one airlock, and your ship was occupying it. The TSDC took it under assumption that you therefore had to be smugglers or proxies of a larger smuggling organization. Therefore, according to Torontonian trade law was obstructing a Torontonian operation in recovering illegal goods. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to argue the finer points of Torontonian civil law, so I would kindly ask you to lower your sidearm and surrender it. You’re outnumbered, you have nowhere to go, and the man you were trying to ‘capture’ has already surrendered to us”

The Lieutenant paused, calculating.

“In fact, there is a contingent of MSC ships facing off with the Torontonian recovery fleet. We will leave this ship intact after we take the Nubian into custody and recover the goods. After we leave, you can contact the Megan authorities and detain this ship, its crew, and it’s Captain” Bradley said, while casting a venomous glance at Brent.

“Either way, we’re doing what we came for, whether you object to it or not” he finished.

Turning his attention to the Troopers keeping an eye on the cargo hold entrance, he saw Causby walking back toward the surrounded group. With a curt nod, he knew that he no longer had to guard the entrance to the cargo hold. He reassigned them to taking the Nubian into custody.

“Alright Nubian G’reaglix, we are here to take you into custody for violating Torontonian trade law as well as numerous Union treaties. Other charges are graft, extortion and blackmail. Come with us peacefully, if you resist there will be unpleasantness”

***
G’reg looked cautiously from Captain Causby, to Lieutenant Bradley, to the Troopers that all had guns pointed at his armoured hide. Even though the new laser technology punched right through human flesh, he figured he might be able to withstand a few rounds before succumbing to death. However, he knew that was hardly going to be the case here.

G’reg looked back at Causby, who wore a confused mask on his face. They hadn’t been working together for long, but he was still his most trusted associate after Esdras. Although this wasn’t completely a betrayal, it came pretty damn close. Brent was a smart man; it wouldn’t take long to figure most of those charges were trumped up. Granted, they both knew that G’reg had come from a less than savory background, but then again, who in this line work did?

“I’m sorry Captain; it looks like my past has finally caught up with me”

Codeword uttered, that would assure the Lieutenant that he had the right Nubian. It was also fortunate for G’reg, since it looked like the Lieutenant had no great love for him, but knowing he was one of the most important spies of the moment, it would guarantee him favorable treatment until they got back to Epsilon Prime.

“I surrender Lieutenant, I would only ask that I not be placed in those terrible confinements you Torontonians have devised to contain Nubians you deem “dangerous”

***

Seeing G’reg was being hauled away by Torontonian troopers sent a pang of ice through Brent’s heart. He knew that G’reg had been into some dangerous operations before he signed on with the ‘Glory, but he didn’t think he did anything so bad to warrant an entire TSDC battle fleet to come after them. Things didn’t seem to add up… nothing about this mission had. Unfortunately he did not have the time to worry about such things at this very moment. He soon found the Lieutenants gaze settle down upon him.

“Alright Captain, now that you’ve had a chance to placate your crew, and I’ve taken the Nubian into custody, where is the shipment labeled…” Pausing to check a data pad he had stashed in his Brest pocket, the Lieutenant glanced down at its contents “Shipment order 125A029XKO009?”

Brent pulse quickened, things were starting to add up. Brent was only vaguely away of what was in that shipment. It was one of the many that had come with this most recent mission. However, it was the largest of them all, and it was the one that was dealt the most delicately at the port. He had an idea of what it was, but he would ask Esdras about it later, if he ever got the chance.

Grinning, Brent started “I was just about to transfer that over to our turncoat Megan friend here, but I guess it’s all your now. He pointed down into the still descended section of the cargo hold, where several plain boxes continued to sit, awaiting their next destination. I’m sure your boys will be able to take care of it?”

***

Private Uteck watched all the events unfold; it was almost like a blur. All of a sudden the door to the airlock and flown off the wall, he was pushed forward by the rest of the group. Then he found himself pointing his gun at some very plain looking smugglers in the middle of a deal, a deal that looked as if it had gone sour.

They looked as if to resist first, then most surrendered, the Lieutenant stared down any who would not. Once they had the ship secured, he watched a squad of four men lead the Nubian known as G’reaglix away back towards the boarding craft. Now he found himself wandering into a large, concealed lower section of the cargo deck, retrieving some rather mundane crates.

He knew something of supreme importance lied within these boxes, but they hadn’t been informed at the briefing

Why would I? I’m just a grunt Uteck thought. One thing he did know though, something big had gone down today, and he didn’t know whether it was going to come back and haunt him or not…

***

Lieutenant Bradley looked over the boxes, confirming on his data pad, he nodded in satisfaction. After ordering his troops back to the boarding craft save a small guard, he turned to Arjman.

“Alright then, as I promised, these smugglers, this ship and its crew, are all at the mercy of the Megan authority. Do with them what you will; I can assure you the Torontonian government will not be overstepping its sovereign boundaries to spring this unsavory bunch out of prison. It’s a shame we did not meet on more positive grounds, I think we could have worked together very well. But I’m sure you can relate when I say: I hope I never see you again”

Doing a swift about face, Lieutenant Bradley took the rest of his squad out of the cargo hold. Moments later they heard the squeal of metal grinding against metal, and a momentary alarm before the bulkheads sealed over the rupture where the airlock used to be.

***
“Commodore Jutenburg, Lieutenant Bradley reports that they have the Nubian in custody and the cargo safely stowed aboard.” The Lieutenant of the bridge reported

“Very good Dolby, open a channel with the MSC ships” Jutenburg responded

“Channel open sir”

“Captain Riner, I am sorry that this operation couldn’t have gone more smoothly. I can only hope this does not strain relations between our two peoples, and the alliance we both mutually respect. I’m also regretful that the TSDC did not keep the MSC more apprised of our anti-trafficking operations in this area, so that this debacle could have been avoided. However, our involvement in this operation is concluded, and I will not be removing my ships from Megan space, I bid you good luck in your continued operations. Jutenburg out

Jutenburg sighed after he terminated the link, “Some things are harder than others” he muttered under his breath. But I will just as readily lie again for my country, if she needs it he thought to himself.

“Trying to patch things up before we leave Sir?” Dolby chuckled

“No Lieutenant, that’ll be for the Diplomatic Corps, I was just showing the captain the respect he deserved. He did what he could, and in the end he made the right decision yielding to us. We just narrowly avoided war today Dolby, I hope you remember that”

“Yes sir, but we may not be out of the woods yet sir” Dolby responded

“That’ll be for the boys in suits to figure out. For now, take us back to HQ at Epsilon Prime, proxied through Quanta IV, Sol and finally Nubia station, we need to make sure they’re not going to connect the dots from here back to the Torontonian capital.”

“Yes sir”

With that, the large Torontonian fleet shifted, and then winked out of existence from the backwater Megan system. Little did anyone that day know, Hansan was about to get a whole lot more famous.