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(Wee, update! Well, actually, I've been meaning to comment on this for weeks now, but I got distracted by the annual free Christmas time for lapsed vets like myself. For one week of every year, there is at least one UPK online.
Excelent writing as always, Whytee. Glad to see this ain't dead.
Anyway, on with my usual rambling in-character commentary:)
The Peacekeeping Corps was formed in the wake of the Corporate Wars as the enforcement arm of the Senate. That brief but bloody conflict demonstrated the dire need for military force to regulate corporate activity. While TPG was undisputedly the force which stopped the conflict cold, they made it immediately clear that they had no desire to play babysitter, and that they might not be as generous as to stop the corporations from killing each-other if there were to be a next time.
As the only real organized military force that the Territories possessed outside of the private armies of the corporations themselves, the Peacekeeping Corps inevitably found itself burdened with additional duties in line with its military nature. Anti-piracy, anti-terroism, counter-intelligence, and most recently forming the core of the fortifications meant to deter the possibility of a Serco invasion. Of course, through all of this the budget has been repeatedly cut through the concentrated efforts of special interest groups who consider UPK an obstruction which they'd prefer to just disappear. So UPK has been dividing their limited budget between an increasing number of essential duties, even as their overall finances continue to rapidly shrink. And then, of course, there's Operations Martial Terrance Svaet and his bloody expensive 'special projects'.
The most effective attacks on the continued viability of the organization, however, have been the so-called 'military reforms' over the past decade or so. A number other organizations, such as the United Territories Military and the 'Elite' Anti-Terror Troops, have been split off from the main UPK organization for the stated intent of creating task forces specialized in dealing with one particular duty or another. Except this really hasn't helped anything, since they're still drawing from the same shared budget. Overall, the only thing lost is flexibility, and the only thing gained is headaches. Nothing against them personally, but its a real pain to have to deal with jurisdiction disputes that wouldn't happen if UPK was still a single, unified command.
It's details like this that make us look like a joke to the Serco and Itani, really. Clever, underhanded tricks like what Fletholm is up to is really the only reason that UPK is still operational these days.
-CNH
Excelent writing as always, Whytee. Glad to see this ain't dead.
Anyway, on with my usual rambling in-character commentary:)
The Peacekeeping Corps was formed in the wake of the Corporate Wars as the enforcement arm of the Senate. That brief but bloody conflict demonstrated the dire need for military force to regulate corporate activity. While TPG was undisputedly the force which stopped the conflict cold, they made it immediately clear that they had no desire to play babysitter, and that they might not be as generous as to stop the corporations from killing each-other if there were to be a next time.
As the only real organized military force that the Territories possessed outside of the private armies of the corporations themselves, the Peacekeeping Corps inevitably found itself burdened with additional duties in line with its military nature. Anti-piracy, anti-terroism, counter-intelligence, and most recently forming the core of the fortifications meant to deter the possibility of a Serco invasion. Of course, through all of this the budget has been repeatedly cut through the concentrated efforts of special interest groups who consider UPK an obstruction which they'd prefer to just disappear. So UPK has been dividing their limited budget between an increasing number of essential duties, even as their overall finances continue to rapidly shrink. And then, of course, there's Operations Martial Terrance Svaet and his bloody expensive 'special projects'.
The most effective attacks on the continued viability of the organization, however, have been the so-called 'military reforms' over the past decade or so. A number other organizations, such as the United Territories Military and the 'Elite' Anti-Terror Troops, have been split off from the main UPK organization for the stated intent of creating task forces specialized in dealing with one particular duty or another. Except this really hasn't helped anything, since they're still drawing from the same shared budget. Overall, the only thing lost is flexibility, and the only thing gained is headaches. Nothing against them personally, but its a real pain to have to deal with jurisdiction disputes that wouldn't happen if UPK was still a single, unified command.
It's details like this that make us look like a joke to the Serco and Itani, really. Clever, underhanded tricks like what Fletholm is up to is really the only reason that UPK is still operational these days.
-CNH
Chapter 50
The space around the big TPG station in Dau sector K-10 was busier than it had been for quite a while, after the TFGT members had launched the convoy for Daltas Station. As per Surbius' instructions, the pilot would assemble 1500 metres towards the sun before heading for grey space. He wanted to be sure that everyone, even Hortan, was actually going to show up. The forcefield that covered the exit bay in the TGFT parts of the station, parted and a bright yellow battered Behemoth stuttered out of the bay, turned reluctantly on its axis and after a couple of false starts, hesitantly moved towards the group. The last guild member, Hortan naturally, had joined the convoy and Surbius nodded slowly in satisfaction. It was not that he needed Hortan along, but someone had to carry the cargo they were briniging and everyone else had preferred to fly a combat rig. Trust Hortan to fly a Behemoth no mater what the mission, and thus, by ordering his participation, he had a volunteer for the cargo.
Surbius engaged the main engines to full power and felt the thrust push him hard in the back like the hand of an invisible giant. He thumbed his comms switch.
"All pilots, formation diamond four, 160 m/s, direction 193º horizontal, 022º vertical, Faust has lead."
Like cogs in a well-oiled machine, the fighters of TGFT slipped into position with the ungainly yellow brick-like Behemoth slightly behind. The group moved in the desired direction, long spears of orange flame roaring from the Behemoth and the fighters on stuttering semi-idling drives. The fighters were made for brief spurt of speed, the Behemoth was made for long slow treks. As soon as the front ship was 3000 metres away from the station, Faust engaged the jump engines and disappeared, only to be followed by the other TGFT members.
Space, although mostly consisting of the purest empty, felt even more empty than usual as the group moved alone through Dau, Azek and then Latos without meeting a single ship on the way. Normally, automated sentry warships guarded the wormholes to Grey space but these had been withdrawn after the Azek terrorist attack. The last jump from the Sedina wormhole and into the Daltas sector was almost anticlimactic; they has assumed that the pirates would put up a fight, that rogue bots would be prowling, that… well, that something would happen. Instead, they encountered nothing, not even the usual station guards.
"What the fuck is that?"
Surbius thumbed his own comms switch.
"You are hot-miking Faust. I do believe that it is twenty-something Axia XR-2300 B engines coupled to the station somehow."
The station's central toroid was almost obscured by a belt of fusion flame that spun the domestic part of the station like a giant Ferris wheel. Surbius sent the usual identification codes to the station traffic controller but received only static in return. He frowned and switched to the universal emergency frequency instead and sent his identification codes again. A man's voice came back, clear and crisp.
"Yada yada Surb. You sure took your sweet time. Dock anywhere on dock level 12 and wear enviro suits. It is kinda cold in here and the air is slightly thin."
Surbius tried hard to battle the grin that spread across his face but after about a second's worth of struggles, he gave in and let a massive smile spread like sunshine through the dark clouds of a tropic storm. Nobody could see him anyway so he reckoned it was okay.
"Councillor Eldritch. We feared that you had perished."
"Nah, I am like a Betheshee fungal infection. You can only keep me down for a bit, I'll return eventually. Bring booze, food and a, ehm, standby."
The radio keyed again with a different voice.
"Sir, this is Engineer First Class Trulo. We are in desperate need of a Tokomak control circuit board. Preferable a Valent, but any will do in a pinch."
"I believe we have one with us. Pilot Hortan will dock with the Behemoth in bay 12-D. Meet him there and I believe that you will find we have brought whatever you need. The rest of us will remain outside and fly overwatch. Surbius, out."
###
The "enter here" arrows of the docking bay were shining like a welcoming beacon to the Viper flight. Cat waited until Atice had docked his fuming and battered fighter before she gently tapped the forward thrusters. The bays to her left were a tangled mess of outward bending metal spars and torn hull metal covered by semi-translucent emergency plasteel. She could almost make out the interior and see persons working inside, bright lights from arc-welders shining like miniature blue suns. She briefly wondered what had happened but stored the interest somewhere in her mind that wouldn't interfere with her combat capabilities. If it was of concern to her and the guild, she was certain she would be told.
The docking clamps engaged around her Warthog's hardpoints and secured the heavy fighter to the cradle. Connection wires connected to the ship's exterior dataport and almost immediately the station mainframe requested access to her ship systems. She allowed for access but waited and monitored the dataflow for a full ten seconds before she was satisfied that the system was working, as it should. She engaged the hatch and removed her helmet. Tangerine, burnt oil and barbecue smells filled her nostrils, the smells of an accident gone bad with possible bodylosses. She engaged the station's communication unit and opened a relay to the Viper main computer.
"Pilot Cat has landed, ship is nominally operative with 12% armour left and no ammunition. Minor structural damages, no essential errors. Left dorsal wing with associated controls are inoperable, “ a nice way of saying torn off by a plasma bolt.
“Estimated turn-around time is three hours depending on mechanic availability. Squad leader Atice will file main incident report. Landing report end."
The reply was fast, but not as fast as expected. Nor with the information she expected.
"Cat, welcome back. This is Phaserlight, the mainframe is down for the moment so I am handling entry/exits. Please move to the main Viper area, there will be a gathering shortly."
Cat almost asked what, why, who, everything she could think off. Her brainpal overrode her first instinct and filed her curiosity away neatly and efficiently in the same data storage where she kept the questions about what had happened to the station.
"Wilco Sir."
She waited until Atice had finished clearing his own fighter and then walked over to him.
"We have been summoned to headquarters. After you Sir."
Atice looked at her, frowned and started to move inside the station.
The space around the big TPG station in Dau sector K-10 was busier than it had been for quite a while, after the TFGT members had launched the convoy for Daltas Station. As per Surbius' instructions, the pilot would assemble 1500 metres towards the sun before heading for grey space. He wanted to be sure that everyone, even Hortan, was actually going to show up. The forcefield that covered the exit bay in the TGFT parts of the station, parted and a bright yellow battered Behemoth stuttered out of the bay, turned reluctantly on its axis and after a couple of false starts, hesitantly moved towards the group. The last guild member, Hortan naturally, had joined the convoy and Surbius nodded slowly in satisfaction. It was not that he needed Hortan along, but someone had to carry the cargo they were briniging and everyone else had preferred to fly a combat rig. Trust Hortan to fly a Behemoth no mater what the mission, and thus, by ordering his participation, he had a volunteer for the cargo.
Surbius engaged the main engines to full power and felt the thrust push him hard in the back like the hand of an invisible giant. He thumbed his comms switch.
"All pilots, formation diamond four, 160 m/s, direction 193º horizontal, 022º vertical, Faust has lead."
Like cogs in a well-oiled machine, the fighters of TGFT slipped into position with the ungainly yellow brick-like Behemoth slightly behind. The group moved in the desired direction, long spears of orange flame roaring from the Behemoth and the fighters on stuttering semi-idling drives. The fighters were made for brief spurt of speed, the Behemoth was made for long slow treks. As soon as the front ship was 3000 metres away from the station, Faust engaged the jump engines and disappeared, only to be followed by the other TGFT members.
Space, although mostly consisting of the purest empty, felt even more empty than usual as the group moved alone through Dau, Azek and then Latos without meeting a single ship on the way. Normally, automated sentry warships guarded the wormholes to Grey space but these had been withdrawn after the Azek terrorist attack. The last jump from the Sedina wormhole and into the Daltas sector was almost anticlimactic; they has assumed that the pirates would put up a fight, that rogue bots would be prowling, that… well, that something would happen. Instead, they encountered nothing, not even the usual station guards.
"What the fuck is that?"
Surbius thumbed his own comms switch.
"You are hot-miking Faust. I do believe that it is twenty-something Axia XR-2300 B engines coupled to the station somehow."
The station's central toroid was almost obscured by a belt of fusion flame that spun the domestic part of the station like a giant Ferris wheel. Surbius sent the usual identification codes to the station traffic controller but received only static in return. He frowned and switched to the universal emergency frequency instead and sent his identification codes again. A man's voice came back, clear and crisp.
"Yada yada Surb. You sure took your sweet time. Dock anywhere on dock level 12 and wear enviro suits. It is kinda cold in here and the air is slightly thin."
Surbius tried hard to battle the grin that spread across his face but after about a second's worth of struggles, he gave in and let a massive smile spread like sunshine through the dark clouds of a tropic storm. Nobody could see him anyway so he reckoned it was okay.
"Councillor Eldritch. We feared that you had perished."
"Nah, I am like a Betheshee fungal infection. You can only keep me down for a bit, I'll return eventually. Bring booze, food and a, ehm, standby."
The radio keyed again with a different voice.
"Sir, this is Engineer First Class Trulo. We are in desperate need of a Tokomak control circuit board. Preferable a Valent, but any will do in a pinch."
"I believe we have one with us. Pilot Hortan will dock with the Behemoth in bay 12-D. Meet him there and I believe that you will find we have brought whatever you need. The rest of us will remain outside and fly overwatch. Surbius, out."
###
The "enter here" arrows of the docking bay were shining like a welcoming beacon to the Viper flight. Cat waited until Atice had docked his fuming and battered fighter before she gently tapped the forward thrusters. The bays to her left were a tangled mess of outward bending metal spars and torn hull metal covered by semi-translucent emergency plasteel. She could almost make out the interior and see persons working inside, bright lights from arc-welders shining like miniature blue suns. She briefly wondered what had happened but stored the interest somewhere in her mind that wouldn't interfere with her combat capabilities. If it was of concern to her and the guild, she was certain she would be told.
The docking clamps engaged around her Warthog's hardpoints and secured the heavy fighter to the cradle. Connection wires connected to the ship's exterior dataport and almost immediately the station mainframe requested access to her ship systems. She allowed for access but waited and monitored the dataflow for a full ten seconds before she was satisfied that the system was working, as it should. She engaged the hatch and removed her helmet. Tangerine, burnt oil and barbecue smells filled her nostrils, the smells of an accident gone bad with possible bodylosses. She engaged the station's communication unit and opened a relay to the Viper main computer.
"Pilot Cat has landed, ship is nominally operative with 12% armour left and no ammunition. Minor structural damages, no essential errors. Left dorsal wing with associated controls are inoperable, “ a nice way of saying torn off by a plasma bolt.
“Estimated turn-around time is three hours depending on mechanic availability. Squad leader Atice will file main incident report. Landing report end."
The reply was fast, but not as fast as expected. Nor with the information she expected.
"Cat, welcome back. This is Phaserlight, the mainframe is down for the moment so I am handling entry/exits. Please move to the main Viper area, there will be a gathering shortly."
Cat almost asked what, why, who, everything she could think off. Her brainpal overrode her first instinct and filed her curiosity away neatly and efficiently in the same data storage where she kept the questions about what had happened to the station.
"Wilco Sir."
She waited until Atice had finished clearing his own fighter and then walked over to him.
"We have been summoned to headquarters. After you Sir."
Atice looked at her, frowned and started to move inside the station.
Chapter 51
The air was full of contaminants, but breathable. At least, that was what Hortan's suit told him as he stepped out through the side hatch of the yellow Behemoth into the airlock. The entrance into the station proper was closed, actually in the process of cycling. Hortan didn't mind the short wait. He was used to waiting, used to the solitude of single-person deep mining. He noticed with some fascination that the walls were covered in grime and filth and wondered if so much detritus could really have accumulated during such a short time. After all, the station had only been without power for two weeks or so? Or maybe it was just the natural state of the station?
Sedina was not known for it's strict adherence to the UIT cleanliness codex, not to speak of UIT's code of conduct or even… he grimaced, realised the conclusion of his thought process and flinched from the little stab of fear that popped into his reptilian irrational parts of his brains. Sedina was not known for adhering to any laws but that of the strong.
The inner door opened with a small pop as the air equalized with the station's normal pressure, and then swung open with an unnatural slowness. Hortan realized that is was because it was being manually pushed open by what appeared to be two tall spindly looking mummies with fake-fur jackets over fake-fur hoodies. They were not wearing environmental suits, so Hortan decided that it was safe enough to breathe the air. He reached up and pushed the release latches on the sides of his helmet and pulled it off. He instantly wished he hadn't. The air might be breathable, but it was indescribably foul. He gagged, but discovered that if he kept to breathing though his mouth, he could just about stand it.
"Foul, ain't it? Welcome to Latos Paradise Hort."
Hortan looked up, tears in his eyes from the rank smell of sulphurous vapours that seemed to target him directly with its noxious load of smells. John Eldritch was standing two steps inside the airlock, flanked by two smaller figures, one of them most likely female. It was hard to tell though, all of them were covered in thermal clothing that eliminated any chances of discerning figure or shape underneath. The other one stepped forward, took his mitten off and stretched out a hand. Hortan shook it, while keeping his eyes on John.
"Trulo, first, and I guess last engineer on the station. Do you have the Tokomak?"
Hortan looked away from John, at the man that was shaking his hand and nodded.
"Forward bay, I have released the clamps on it. You'll want a power-lifter though."
Trulo grinned and clapped Hortan on the shoulder with his other hand.
"Right. And a shower, some pancakes and," he looked back over his shoulder at John, "what was it, a dozen roses John?"
Hortan looked confused.
"Internal joke mate," John said smiling. "It is good to see you Hort. Real good."
John put his arm around the female figure, winked at Hortan and smiled wider. Hortan insta-blushed.
###
Fletholm went over the information he had received from NP one more time. His scowl didn't budge one inch while he came to the same conclusion he had made the previous two times he had read it. He cursed sub-vocally throughout the reading. That didn't make it any better naturally, but doing it made him feel slightly less like a metal ball in a Pachinko machine. With a slightly trembling finger, he pressed print to his personal printer and looked over at the ugly grey lump of plastic as it started up, spewing holosheet copies of his input screen. He slowly got up from his chair, walked over and grabbed the sheets. The data was identical with the damning evidence on his input screen. He nodded, moved over to his personal safe and put the papers inside. He frowned for the fiftieth time today as he realised how much information that would damn most of the high-rollers of UIT, was in the safe in hard-copy. He closed the box and walked back to his chair, sat down heavily and started deleting the information completely, all the way to the sending terminal.
Satisfied, he leaned back and pushed his intercom.
"Eggert."
It was sufficient. Seconds later, the door opened and Eggert peeked in.
"You rang boss?" Eggert said, curiosity painted like a Monet on his face.
"Come inside, lock the door." He didn't go on until Eggert was inside, the door securely locked.
"I have a job for you. It cannot come from this office and I need you to erase anything that can link back to here. If you are discovered, or your agent is discovered, you or he will be killed. No mercy, no warning. And you need to frame the deed on PUPK."
Eggert's wide face opened in a wide smile and his eyes started sparkling with mischief.
"Well, well, well, I guess Christmas comes early this year. Do tell boss, consider it done."
###
The lights were too red for comfort inside the VPR HQ main control room. Most of the overhead lighting panels had been short-circuited with the power feedback that had been the result of Phaserlight's victory over the intruder's software attack. Different screens flicked on and off randomly, the effect of the cleaning programs that were working overtime to weed out the worms, trojans, vira and other stuff that had been hosed all over the mainframe.
Phaserlight greeted them with a curt nod before returning to his input field where data was flicking in and out with rapid speed. Atice walked over to one of the chairs and dumped himself into it like a sack of beans. He shifted slightly to get his sidearm away from under his thigh and leaned back again, sighing.
"What is the status Sir?" Cat asked in a monotonous voice.
Phaserlight waved his right hand in a side-ways motion while punching data in with his left.
"So-so. No major systems have been compromised and I believe we will have everything up and running in a week or so. Whoever it was, he was a crafty sort."
"Crafty is not a word I'd use about him. Murdering bastard is more fitting," Atice grunted.
"Surely you can appreciate the well-timed plan Sir."
Ato looked over at the still-standing Cat and grimaced.
"What is wrong with you?"
Cat looked back at him, a puzzled look on her face.
"Nothing Sir, I am functioning at better than 95% efficiency."
Atice waved is hand at her dismissively and looked over to Phaserlight instead.
"Where are you cloning Niut?"
"I am not," Phaselight said, "the system is too busy with all these cleanings to be able to do a re-lifing. Besides, who knows what could happen if something unintended spilled over. So, he will have to wait until we are finished with this. That is, if we can make any sense of his back-up. It seems he never got around to making a download and so," Phaserlight grunted with effort as he punched several fast commands into the system, "sorry about that. Well, apparently the newest we have on file is three years old."
Atice sat up in the chair.
"What about his internal back-up?"
"Scrambled. We need computing power that is simply not available right now so I am afraid he will have lost those years."
Atice collapsed back into the chair once more, defeated.
"I can sort it out Sir."
Phaserlight chuckled while Atice looked incredulously at Cat. Atice leaned forward, putting his head in one hand while he rummaged his tired brains for words.
"Listen Cat, I know you try to do what is best, but we need computing power, not tenacity and persistence."
"We can use my brainpal. It would only leave me with a basic human hormonal system but I guess I can be flushed again once we are finished. It is worth trying Lieutenant."
Phaserlight nodded and looked away from the screen.
"Do it. Atice, can you help her with it? I need to concentrate on this and knowing that Niut is being handled enables me to focus completely."
He turned away without getting an answer, expecting Atice to help. Atice shrugged and got up, looked over to Cat and gallantly bowed and pointed to the medical ward.
"After you ma'am."
*******
Sorry (again) for the long delay. Life is...busy:)
I'll try and post the last two chapters within the month!
YT
The air was full of contaminants, but breathable. At least, that was what Hortan's suit told him as he stepped out through the side hatch of the yellow Behemoth into the airlock. The entrance into the station proper was closed, actually in the process of cycling. Hortan didn't mind the short wait. He was used to waiting, used to the solitude of single-person deep mining. He noticed with some fascination that the walls were covered in grime and filth and wondered if so much detritus could really have accumulated during such a short time. After all, the station had only been without power for two weeks or so? Or maybe it was just the natural state of the station?
Sedina was not known for it's strict adherence to the UIT cleanliness codex, not to speak of UIT's code of conduct or even… he grimaced, realised the conclusion of his thought process and flinched from the little stab of fear that popped into his reptilian irrational parts of his brains. Sedina was not known for adhering to any laws but that of the strong.
The inner door opened with a small pop as the air equalized with the station's normal pressure, and then swung open with an unnatural slowness. Hortan realized that is was because it was being manually pushed open by what appeared to be two tall spindly looking mummies with fake-fur jackets over fake-fur hoodies. They were not wearing environmental suits, so Hortan decided that it was safe enough to breathe the air. He reached up and pushed the release latches on the sides of his helmet and pulled it off. He instantly wished he hadn't. The air might be breathable, but it was indescribably foul. He gagged, but discovered that if he kept to breathing though his mouth, he could just about stand it.
"Foul, ain't it? Welcome to Latos Paradise Hort."
Hortan looked up, tears in his eyes from the rank smell of sulphurous vapours that seemed to target him directly with its noxious load of smells. John Eldritch was standing two steps inside the airlock, flanked by two smaller figures, one of them most likely female. It was hard to tell though, all of them were covered in thermal clothing that eliminated any chances of discerning figure or shape underneath. The other one stepped forward, took his mitten off and stretched out a hand. Hortan shook it, while keeping his eyes on John.
"Trulo, first, and I guess last engineer on the station. Do you have the Tokomak?"
Hortan looked away from John, at the man that was shaking his hand and nodded.
"Forward bay, I have released the clamps on it. You'll want a power-lifter though."
Trulo grinned and clapped Hortan on the shoulder with his other hand.
"Right. And a shower, some pancakes and," he looked back over his shoulder at John, "what was it, a dozen roses John?"
Hortan looked confused.
"Internal joke mate," John said smiling. "It is good to see you Hort. Real good."
John put his arm around the female figure, winked at Hortan and smiled wider. Hortan insta-blushed.
###
Fletholm went over the information he had received from NP one more time. His scowl didn't budge one inch while he came to the same conclusion he had made the previous two times he had read it. He cursed sub-vocally throughout the reading. That didn't make it any better naturally, but doing it made him feel slightly less like a metal ball in a Pachinko machine. With a slightly trembling finger, he pressed print to his personal printer and looked over at the ugly grey lump of plastic as it started up, spewing holosheet copies of his input screen. He slowly got up from his chair, walked over and grabbed the sheets. The data was identical with the damning evidence on his input screen. He nodded, moved over to his personal safe and put the papers inside. He frowned for the fiftieth time today as he realised how much information that would damn most of the high-rollers of UIT, was in the safe in hard-copy. He closed the box and walked back to his chair, sat down heavily and started deleting the information completely, all the way to the sending terminal.
Satisfied, he leaned back and pushed his intercom.
"Eggert."
It was sufficient. Seconds later, the door opened and Eggert peeked in.
"You rang boss?" Eggert said, curiosity painted like a Monet on his face.
"Come inside, lock the door." He didn't go on until Eggert was inside, the door securely locked.
"I have a job for you. It cannot come from this office and I need you to erase anything that can link back to here. If you are discovered, or your agent is discovered, you or he will be killed. No mercy, no warning. And you need to frame the deed on PUPK."
Eggert's wide face opened in a wide smile and his eyes started sparkling with mischief.
"Well, well, well, I guess Christmas comes early this year. Do tell boss, consider it done."
###
The lights were too red for comfort inside the VPR HQ main control room. Most of the overhead lighting panels had been short-circuited with the power feedback that had been the result of Phaserlight's victory over the intruder's software attack. Different screens flicked on and off randomly, the effect of the cleaning programs that were working overtime to weed out the worms, trojans, vira and other stuff that had been hosed all over the mainframe.
Phaserlight greeted them with a curt nod before returning to his input field where data was flicking in and out with rapid speed. Atice walked over to one of the chairs and dumped himself into it like a sack of beans. He shifted slightly to get his sidearm away from under his thigh and leaned back again, sighing.
"What is the status Sir?" Cat asked in a monotonous voice.
Phaserlight waved his right hand in a side-ways motion while punching data in with his left.
"So-so. No major systems have been compromised and I believe we will have everything up and running in a week or so. Whoever it was, he was a crafty sort."
"Crafty is not a word I'd use about him. Murdering bastard is more fitting," Atice grunted.
"Surely you can appreciate the well-timed plan Sir."
Ato looked over at the still-standing Cat and grimaced.
"What is wrong with you?"
Cat looked back at him, a puzzled look on her face.
"Nothing Sir, I am functioning at better than 95% efficiency."
Atice waved is hand at her dismissively and looked over to Phaserlight instead.
"Where are you cloning Niut?"
"I am not," Phaselight said, "the system is too busy with all these cleanings to be able to do a re-lifing. Besides, who knows what could happen if something unintended spilled over. So, he will have to wait until we are finished with this. That is, if we can make any sense of his back-up. It seems he never got around to making a download and so," Phaserlight grunted with effort as he punched several fast commands into the system, "sorry about that. Well, apparently the newest we have on file is three years old."
Atice sat up in the chair.
"What about his internal back-up?"
"Scrambled. We need computing power that is simply not available right now so I am afraid he will have lost those years."
Atice collapsed back into the chair once more, defeated.
"I can sort it out Sir."
Phaserlight chuckled while Atice looked incredulously at Cat. Atice leaned forward, putting his head in one hand while he rummaged his tired brains for words.
"Listen Cat, I know you try to do what is best, but we need computing power, not tenacity and persistence."
"We can use my brainpal. It would only leave me with a basic human hormonal system but I guess I can be flushed again once we are finished. It is worth trying Lieutenant."
Phaserlight nodded and looked away from the screen.
"Do it. Atice, can you help her with it? I need to concentrate on this and knowing that Niut is being handled enables me to focus completely."
He turned away without getting an answer, expecting Atice to help. Atice shrugged and got up, looked over to Cat and gallantly bowed and pointed to the medical ward.
"After you ma'am."
*******
Sorry (again) for the long delay. Life is...busy:)
I'll try and post the last two chapters within the month!
YT
Nice. Looking forward to it!
Oh lovely, an update. Nice to see this isn't dead; I do so enjoy reading this story. The bits with Fletholm and Eggert especially.
Chapter 52
Nikan "Nice" Hardrive had been given a lot of strange missions while working for the UPK, a lot of them dangerous, some of them he disagreed with and even one or two that were completely against his morals and ethics. This new mission was all three at the same time, a first. He shrugged mentally; there was always bound to be a first. The hard thing was to refrain from making it a habit. It the mission had come from just about anyone else, he would have asked questions, fought the issue and perhaps even refused to perform the mission. But he trusted Fletholm and his assistant Eggert too much to question or refuse the mission.
So, here he was, deep in Bractus, equally deep undercover, waiting for a person he'd rather apprehend or simply shoot. Actually, he’d prefer to shoot him, preferably with some very large calibre weapon from a comfortable distance. A wormhole distant or the like. He hunched over his Bractus genuine cane Rhum and savoured the burned sugary aroma. Only damned thing that was good about Bractus if you asked him. Someone sat down beside him and Nikan slowly turned his head away from the tumbler. His internal threat identifier popped targeting data onto his retina immediately and flagged the person as extremely dangerous, wanted dead or alive, as well as kill/capture on the Serco external Prioritized Targeting List. Without noticing what he was doing, he scanned the warrants and grimaced. Just about everyone wanted a piece of this person, preferably dead with proof.
"Asteroth."
A data squirt entered his dropbox and he opened it in a secure compartment of his internal storage. A picture of a nursery home in what looked like Verasi, three large black metal drums and a smaller brown paper bag nestling up to one of the drums. Four small children were playing behind the barrels in a small heap of sand with an adult sitting on the edge of the sand.
"Before you go on, let me explain. Just to be absolutely sure that you are not part of a silly plan to capture me or make my life the least bit difficult, you will please notice the labels on the picture that I just sent you. Those three barrels of kerosene are sufficient to torch the entire war-veteran's orphanage. And they are connected to me, and my well-being. Should my pulse rise above 180, lower below 20 or if I just feel like it, the detonator will go off."
Nikan nodded, chilled to the bone by the insanely rational raspy voice. Asteroth could just as well have explained to Nikan what flavours of ice cream they had at the candy store.
"So, I trust you have the Corvus Dubloons that was a part of the deal for me to meet you?"
Nikan pushed the small velvet pouch over towards Asteroth and moved his hands back around the tumbler of Rhum. The price of one million untraceable Dubloons was rather high for nothing more than a meeting, but the enticement had to be high to lure such high-profile criminals out from under the floorboards. Or wherever they were hiding. Besides, it wasn't his money. If wasn't even the UIT's money.
"Speak, you have paid for that much at least," Asteroth rasped in a voice so low it could just as well have been a whisper.
"Don't have to say much. The data is in the file. And I am informed that you can make it look like PUPK."
The words were ashen in his mouth.
"Ah, yes. Won't have you caught on file. Very well, upon reception of half the price at the following account, we shall start. And rest assured, KAOS can indeed make it look like PUPK."
Nikan got up, leaving the tumbler half full. He didn't want to stay near that megalomaniac, not even for his Rhum. Without a nod to Asteroth, he walked out of the bar towards his ship. He felt like he had been mutilated repeatedly. He needed a bath. Scratch that, he needed a full-body sterilisation!
###
Atice had helped hook Cat up to the twisted and burned internal memory store that was the life memories of Niut'Likatisin, assisted her as she coupled herself into the re-life machine and since then just… waited. He was pretty lousy at waiting, always had been. Cat opened her eyes and smiled up at him. He smiled back; it had been a while since he had seen that.
"Feels strange not to have the brainpal. It is very chaotic and confusing. With the brainpal, everything is so clear, so orderly. Without it, everything seems to happen faster, less orderly."
Cat's voice had a softness to it that Atice hadn't heard for months. Since her last surgery actually.
"Maybe you are better off without it Cat. You'll be more… human I guess is the term I am looking for."
She looked at him without moving her head.
"But much less efficient. Already, I can feel hormones drift through my body and head, hormones that I had under control. With the brainpal, I can always pick the most efficient solution for any given problem. Without it, I succumb to the same doubts as everyone else."
"That is what makes us human Cat. That is what identifies us as being us instead of being machines."
He looked down, away from her gaze.
"It is what attracts us to people, the difference that makes the you."
He looked at her again.
"I wish you'd let yourself shine through instead of suppressing yourself, even if it means a loss of efficiency. It more than makes up for it, at least when you work with me."
He got up and smiled down at her frowning face.
"Anyway, I'll go for a drink. I'll be back in an hour or so. That should be in time to help the new Niut out of the cocoon. If you need anything, give a ring."
He left, him for the lounge, and her with her thoughts.
###
The clone tank turned transparent as it was emptied of the grey liquid that sustained and aided the body inside. Normally, a fresh young body, free of any injuries, scars or signs of wear was inside. In this case, the body was that of a tall man, heavily wrinkled but unmistakably powerful. The hands especially were greyish as if they had been painted with gunmetal paint and then lightly drizzled with red welts where molten metal had impacted on skin earlier. Another use of the clone tank was as a regeneration tank for heavily injured people, like the occupant of this tank. The last of the liquid gurgled into the waste tube and the tank cracked open, forming an oval line in the chainglass. It slid to the side silently, to allow the occupant to step outside. Ecka took a wobbly step out of the tank and accepted the hand that was stretched out towards him.
"Careful there Sir, you might feel nausea but that is common."
"Ah ken," Ecka grunted irritably and pointed to his battered, burned and holed flightsuit.
"Top pooch, metal flask. Hain it tae me please."
The nurse turned to the green-going on grey uniform, found the flask and handed it over. Ecka grabbed it, screwed the lid of with slightly unsteady hands and poured amber liquid into his mouth. He swallowed, took a deep breath and let out a deep sigh of satisfaction.
"Noo, be a guid laddie an' hain me the th' flightsuit sae Ah can gie it ay haur withit havin' th' kimers drap oan me. Ah hae business tae dae."
Nikan "Nice" Hardrive had been given a lot of strange missions while working for the UPK, a lot of them dangerous, some of them he disagreed with and even one or two that were completely against his morals and ethics. This new mission was all three at the same time, a first. He shrugged mentally; there was always bound to be a first. The hard thing was to refrain from making it a habit. It the mission had come from just about anyone else, he would have asked questions, fought the issue and perhaps even refused to perform the mission. But he trusted Fletholm and his assistant Eggert too much to question or refuse the mission.
So, here he was, deep in Bractus, equally deep undercover, waiting for a person he'd rather apprehend or simply shoot. Actually, he’d prefer to shoot him, preferably with some very large calibre weapon from a comfortable distance. A wormhole distant or the like. He hunched over his Bractus genuine cane Rhum and savoured the burned sugary aroma. Only damned thing that was good about Bractus if you asked him. Someone sat down beside him and Nikan slowly turned his head away from the tumbler. His internal threat identifier popped targeting data onto his retina immediately and flagged the person as extremely dangerous, wanted dead or alive, as well as kill/capture on the Serco external Prioritized Targeting List. Without noticing what he was doing, he scanned the warrants and grimaced. Just about everyone wanted a piece of this person, preferably dead with proof.
"Asteroth."
A data squirt entered his dropbox and he opened it in a secure compartment of his internal storage. A picture of a nursery home in what looked like Verasi, three large black metal drums and a smaller brown paper bag nestling up to one of the drums. Four small children were playing behind the barrels in a small heap of sand with an adult sitting on the edge of the sand.
"Before you go on, let me explain. Just to be absolutely sure that you are not part of a silly plan to capture me or make my life the least bit difficult, you will please notice the labels on the picture that I just sent you. Those three barrels of kerosene are sufficient to torch the entire war-veteran's orphanage. And they are connected to me, and my well-being. Should my pulse rise above 180, lower below 20 or if I just feel like it, the detonator will go off."
Nikan nodded, chilled to the bone by the insanely rational raspy voice. Asteroth could just as well have explained to Nikan what flavours of ice cream they had at the candy store.
"So, I trust you have the Corvus Dubloons that was a part of the deal for me to meet you?"
Nikan pushed the small velvet pouch over towards Asteroth and moved his hands back around the tumbler of Rhum. The price of one million untraceable Dubloons was rather high for nothing more than a meeting, but the enticement had to be high to lure such high-profile criminals out from under the floorboards. Or wherever they were hiding. Besides, it wasn't his money. If wasn't even the UIT's money.
"Speak, you have paid for that much at least," Asteroth rasped in a voice so low it could just as well have been a whisper.
"Don't have to say much. The data is in the file. And I am informed that you can make it look like PUPK."
The words were ashen in his mouth.
"Ah, yes. Won't have you caught on file. Very well, upon reception of half the price at the following account, we shall start. And rest assured, KAOS can indeed make it look like PUPK."
Nikan got up, leaving the tumbler half full. He didn't want to stay near that megalomaniac, not even for his Rhum. Without a nod to Asteroth, he walked out of the bar towards his ship. He felt like he had been mutilated repeatedly. He needed a bath. Scratch that, he needed a full-body sterilisation!
###
Atice had helped hook Cat up to the twisted and burned internal memory store that was the life memories of Niut'Likatisin, assisted her as she coupled herself into the re-life machine and since then just… waited. He was pretty lousy at waiting, always had been. Cat opened her eyes and smiled up at him. He smiled back; it had been a while since he had seen that.
"Feels strange not to have the brainpal. It is very chaotic and confusing. With the brainpal, everything is so clear, so orderly. Without it, everything seems to happen faster, less orderly."
Cat's voice had a softness to it that Atice hadn't heard for months. Since her last surgery actually.
"Maybe you are better off without it Cat. You'll be more… human I guess is the term I am looking for."
She looked at him without moving her head.
"But much less efficient. Already, I can feel hormones drift through my body and head, hormones that I had under control. With the brainpal, I can always pick the most efficient solution for any given problem. Without it, I succumb to the same doubts as everyone else."
"That is what makes us human Cat. That is what identifies us as being us instead of being machines."
He looked down, away from her gaze.
"It is what attracts us to people, the difference that makes the you."
He looked at her again.
"I wish you'd let yourself shine through instead of suppressing yourself, even if it means a loss of efficiency. It more than makes up for it, at least when you work with me."
He got up and smiled down at her frowning face.
"Anyway, I'll go for a drink. I'll be back in an hour or so. That should be in time to help the new Niut out of the cocoon. If you need anything, give a ring."
He left, him for the lounge, and her with her thoughts.
###
The clone tank turned transparent as it was emptied of the grey liquid that sustained and aided the body inside. Normally, a fresh young body, free of any injuries, scars or signs of wear was inside. In this case, the body was that of a tall man, heavily wrinkled but unmistakably powerful. The hands especially were greyish as if they had been painted with gunmetal paint and then lightly drizzled with red welts where molten metal had impacted on skin earlier. Another use of the clone tank was as a regeneration tank for heavily injured people, like the occupant of this tank. The last of the liquid gurgled into the waste tube and the tank cracked open, forming an oval line in the chainglass. It slid to the side silently, to allow the occupant to step outside. Ecka took a wobbly step out of the tank and accepted the hand that was stretched out towards him.
"Careful there Sir, you might feel nausea but that is common."
"Ah ken," Ecka grunted irritably and pointed to his battered, burned and holed flightsuit.
"Top pooch, metal flask. Hain it tae me please."
The nurse turned to the green-going on grey uniform, found the flask and handed it over. Ecka grabbed it, screwed the lid of with slightly unsteady hands and poured amber liquid into his mouth. He swallowed, took a deep breath and let out a deep sigh of satisfaction.
"Noo, be a guid laddie an' hain me the th' flightsuit sae Ah can gie it ay haur withit havin' th' kimers drap oan me. Ah hae business tae dae."
cliffy cliff hangers are cliffy
This is all going to end in flames, isn't it?
Epilogue
Nikan emptied the brownish liquid from his cocktail glass, and with a smile, a nod and a lifting of the glass towards the bartender, ordered another peppermint F'Load. This would be his ninth this evening, but he seriously felt that he needed it. He was off duty, and had officially been so for the last two days until they could reassign him to some doubtlessly brain-numbing task. The list of possibles was listed on the slightly grubby napkin the bartender had served with the first drink, one for each F'Load. He would have to think of a new one before the drink arrived, quite a task in itself with the copious amount of alcohol that was diluting his blood right now. Ah, there it was. He grimaced and grabbed the pen with unsteady fingers and wrote with large childish block letters: Deep Space Miner. Now, that was a job that sucked almost as much as the first he had thought of; Training drone manager in the Dau training system. The drink arrived and Nikan lifted it with an appreciative extra lift towards the bartender.
"'Ere's to them who aren't."
A hand stopped his arm before he could put his lips to the glass, and what should have been a combat reflex to regain his freedom and turn the contact into his advantage, instead managed to spill half of the F'Load onto the front of his uniform. He cursed silently and looked towards the interruptee.
"Bah, Eggert. You are as welcome as a hard bout of diarrhoea on a wedding night."
"I missed you too Nice, but I might be able to… hmmm, make your day?"
"Last time you wanted anything from me, it cost my entire unit to be disbanded, me to be tossed on extended medical leave and my ship impounded pending criminal investigation."
"Yeah, but this one will make up for it mate." He nodded towards the bartender and mouthed "two koffee" in his direction. The bartender nodded and set to work on his multi-brew machine.
"I need to be somewhat sober for what I have for you mate, so pop a Sobr-M-Up please."
Eggert placed two happy-orange pills on the counter and shoved them towards Nikan. Nikan shrugged and popped the pills, one by one accompanied with swigs of the F'Load. The happy feeling of intoxication disappeared with the same feeling of regret as seeing a pirate escape after a particular long and intense chase. Eggert prodded him and pointed. Miserable, he looked up towards the flatscreen behind the bar and saw the cute journalist that had covered the story that lead to this mess in the first place.
"This is Dau Senate Public Network's evening news with Breaking News!"
Apparently, the universes most mind-altering and life-changing news had just impacted on the news sphere and Ms Whateverhername was going to tell you what it was in just a few seconds. Juuuust after these commercials. Nikan grimaced once more; he hated journalists no matter how pretty they were.
The very obviously body-enhanced Odia sex-kittens who writhed around a seductive dark woman that carried a tray with two Lady of Night Darque Ales finished delivering their message to the thirsty audience and the screen cut back to the reporter.
"This is Eloen Yulani for DSPN, reporting live from Dau Senate where Senate opposition leader Okela Ealunie was minutes ago arrested on charges of conspiracy, blackmail, attempted murder and high treason. Reliable sources available to this reporter, hint of possible connections to the PUPK that perpetrated the heinous terrorist attack in Azek some weeks ago. We will follow this story closely as it develops."
The screen cut back to the news anchor.
"Thank you for that Eloen. Apparently Mr Ealunie has alleged been working to overthrow the senate for years, but as promised, we will follow the story closely. In unrelated news, the commander of the elite anti terror troop, Captain Bilko, is hospitalised after what seems to be a freak accident with a laser carbine. This is the ninth time in as many days that the unit is forced to hospitalise members of the troop due to firearms related incidents."
Eggert ignored the rest of the report, detailing how the weapon had apparently suffered a very rare malfunction of the type only seen once in a million times, or if someone was dumb enough to actually place a finger between the power cell and the lasing tube, and placed a brown envelope on the desk before pushing it to Nikan, who looked down at it before raising an eyebrow in feigned interest.
"I trust you will find the orders inside to be in line with what you wish for. Lets just say that you and your boys will be working for the Commander from now on instead of the border troops. The budget is slightly higher as well."
Nikan opened the envelope and peeked at the letter inside. This time both his eyebrows responded in interest.
"Holy Ghu, you are serious, aren't you."
Eggert emptied his koffee cup, padded Nikan on the shoulder and stood up.
"You will see that we take care of our own Nice. The unit may still be named UPK, it may still smell of regular duty, but welcome to the farm."
He left Nikan to read all the stuff in small print by himself.
###
John Eldritch followed the come-along arrows through the park, until it arrived at a small stone bench that bordered a pond that was almost covered with Eo sea roses. The arrow stopped and pointed to the bench and he obligingly sat down. The rose garden that belonged to the Eo Sisterhood of The Rose was by far the largest collection of roses in the known 'Verse and it had taken him more than half an hour to walk the distance from the plasteel wall that surrounded the garden, which in turn surrounded the monastery. The building itself was shaped in the form of a rose petal, and the gardens surrounding were in turn a part of a larger rose petal, making the design somewhat fractal in nature. There was probably some deeper spiritual meaning with it, but John wasn't really all that interested.
It had been a long flight from Sedina via Dau. The shortest route would have been via the contested system Deneb, but the war there was in a more violent flux than usual, so John had been forced to take the long route through almost all of Itani space to reach Eo. It didn't matter; he had needed the cockpit time anyhow. The last weeks or so of being locked up in the ravaged station had just about driven him nuts; he needed the freedom to run off to wherever he felt like. Only Rose had made it tolerable.
A robed figure approached with the hood covering the head of the person, and a privacy shield in front of the hood to occlude the face. John was not fooled for a second, he would recognise the movement of Tohasandra Chi anywhere. He stood up and waited for her to come to him and sit down before seating himself again. Chi lifted her hands to the hood and took it away from her head, collapsing the privacy field at the same time. John's face lit in a grin as wide as the Cheshire Cat's.
"Chi, it is so good to see you again. I heard you were seriously injured, so I feared the worst. You look good!"
Chi folded her hands in her lap and smiled back, more guarded but genuine.
"I was in a pretty bad shape when they rescued me, but the physicians say that they can rebuild all of the parts that were really badly injured."
"Why don't you just activate a clone and re-animate?"
Chi slowly shook her head and placed a slender gloved hand on John's forearm.
"It is unlikely that my psyke would survive the transformation as it is now. Which is another reason for me to join the Sisters."
"Riiight, so you are here to stabilise and then to bounce right back into it?"
"Actually no. The primary reason I am here is to get sufficiently far away from everything to be able to de-couple myself from my former responsibility and the tasks I was forced to handle as a high-ranking guild member. Someone new needs to take over, and that cannot happen with me around all the time. Besides, I needed to get away from you John."
He pulled back and frowned deeply.
"What do you mean? I… What did I do?"
"Nothing bad, only good things John," she said quickly to calm him down. "And that is where the problem is. The situation was beginning to become complicated and it was starting to interfere with my work. I was starting to fall… No, I had fallen for you John. And that was a situation, which was not going to work. Ever."
John looked down at his fingers.
"Oh. I guess I knew, or sort of knew. But I think it is easier for me. Not as many strings." He grinned and then grunted, "not that is matters now. I am getting married you know?"
"Yes, I know and I am happy for you both. It will help me on my way to stabilise my psyke." A bell softly chimed and Chi looked up towards the main building. "I have to go now. Thank you for visiting me John. Please send my regards to Hortan. You better take good care of him."
She rose, lifted the hood around her head and disappeared behind the privacy screen that activated automatically. She lifted a finger to make him wait, rummaged around in her small pouch and lifted a single miniature rose from it. It was a thorn less Eo rose cut in smoky green emerald. She left it in the bench and walked with the same unhurried steps away from John as she had approached him with. He grabbed the emerald rose and noted the writing along its stem in stylised handwriting.
"Rose and John, from a friend."
The come-along arrows started flashing again. Time to go, time to move on.
###
The system was full of radar echoes from the remains of fighters and trade ships scattered about in semi-chaotic patterns emanating from where they had met their untimely and often spectacularly exploding deaths. Add to that the echoes from the destroyed cargoes, the ejecta from whatever miner's operation that had taken place here, and you had yourself a system that reflected radar energy in a uniform haze of echoes. Almost like flying in thick pea-soup fog. Not that Ecka had ever tried flying in fog, being a space born, raised and adapted inhabitant. But he had a picture of great-great-and pour-on-greats uncle Angus Estenk back from the days before the wormhole to old Earth had collapsed. A picture from a town called Glascastle or something similar, and in this picture was copious amounts of fog.
At least he knew precisely what he was looking for down to its elemental parts. It just so happened that the most common size of the pieces of disintegrated ship were about the same size as his target, adding to his task. The computer chimed softly and a frighteningly large number displayed on his screen.
"Och weel," he exclaimed to nobody in particular and started the business of sorting fakes from real echoes. A simple matter of applying some mathematics and some filters. The number was now reduced to a significantly less intimidating number, but still large. He started whistling a tune about some roads he had learned a long time ago by his gramps and set about identifying the fragments by pulsing each one of them with a low intensity laser and recording the backscatter. With three lasers and three optical pickups he reckoned it would take anything from a few seconds, if he was very lucky, to a couple of months if he had to identify every single one of them. He'd narrow it down by starting where his own ship had been destroyed and work out from there.
In the end it took some fourteen hours to find the cup and another nine minutes to scoop it up into his hold. The family heirloom was once more secure and in his possession. He held up the battered pewter cup and admired the dents; each one had a history and the three new scratches on the bottom was his addition to the family history. He fastened the cup to its usual location in the cockpit and chuckled to himself. Undoubtedly there would be new stories and rumours about his chase to find the cup. He reckoned that they'd focus on Ecka being miserly enough to use so much time to regain something that was his, or that he didn't want to spend the credits to buy a new one, preferring to add the extra fifteen hundred credits to his already immense hoard of credits. That particular hoard of credits that was so large that its mass was supposed to be able to bend light if it was ever paid out in standard 100 cred chits.
Fortunately none of them knew the truth; along the rim of the cup were the account number and the access code for his main bank account written in Braille. The cup in itself wasn't important other than for sentimental value. The writing, on the other hand, was worth billions of credits to the one that could decipher the script. And that was an okay hourly wage for some fifteen total hours of work. He continued to whistle the ancient song while he tapped his controls to set up for a route back to Dau.
Nikan emptied the brownish liquid from his cocktail glass, and with a smile, a nod and a lifting of the glass towards the bartender, ordered another peppermint F'Load. This would be his ninth this evening, but he seriously felt that he needed it. He was off duty, and had officially been so for the last two days until they could reassign him to some doubtlessly brain-numbing task. The list of possibles was listed on the slightly grubby napkin the bartender had served with the first drink, one for each F'Load. He would have to think of a new one before the drink arrived, quite a task in itself with the copious amount of alcohol that was diluting his blood right now. Ah, there it was. He grimaced and grabbed the pen with unsteady fingers and wrote with large childish block letters: Deep Space Miner. Now, that was a job that sucked almost as much as the first he had thought of; Training drone manager in the Dau training system. The drink arrived and Nikan lifted it with an appreciative extra lift towards the bartender.
"'Ere's to them who aren't."
A hand stopped his arm before he could put his lips to the glass, and what should have been a combat reflex to regain his freedom and turn the contact into his advantage, instead managed to spill half of the F'Load onto the front of his uniform. He cursed silently and looked towards the interruptee.
"Bah, Eggert. You are as welcome as a hard bout of diarrhoea on a wedding night."
"I missed you too Nice, but I might be able to… hmmm, make your day?"
"Last time you wanted anything from me, it cost my entire unit to be disbanded, me to be tossed on extended medical leave and my ship impounded pending criminal investigation."
"Yeah, but this one will make up for it mate." He nodded towards the bartender and mouthed "two koffee" in his direction. The bartender nodded and set to work on his multi-brew machine.
"I need to be somewhat sober for what I have for you mate, so pop a Sobr-M-Up please."
Eggert placed two happy-orange pills on the counter and shoved them towards Nikan. Nikan shrugged and popped the pills, one by one accompanied with swigs of the F'Load. The happy feeling of intoxication disappeared with the same feeling of regret as seeing a pirate escape after a particular long and intense chase. Eggert prodded him and pointed. Miserable, he looked up towards the flatscreen behind the bar and saw the cute journalist that had covered the story that lead to this mess in the first place.
"This is Dau Senate Public Network's evening news with Breaking News!"
Apparently, the universes most mind-altering and life-changing news had just impacted on the news sphere and Ms Whateverhername was going to tell you what it was in just a few seconds. Juuuust after these commercials. Nikan grimaced once more; he hated journalists no matter how pretty they were.
The very obviously body-enhanced Odia sex-kittens who writhed around a seductive dark woman that carried a tray with two Lady of Night Darque Ales finished delivering their message to the thirsty audience and the screen cut back to the reporter.
"This is Eloen Yulani for DSPN, reporting live from Dau Senate where Senate opposition leader Okela Ealunie was minutes ago arrested on charges of conspiracy, blackmail, attempted murder and high treason. Reliable sources available to this reporter, hint of possible connections to the PUPK that perpetrated the heinous terrorist attack in Azek some weeks ago. We will follow this story closely as it develops."
The screen cut back to the news anchor.
"Thank you for that Eloen. Apparently Mr Ealunie has alleged been working to overthrow the senate for years, but as promised, we will follow the story closely. In unrelated news, the commander of the elite anti terror troop, Captain Bilko, is hospitalised after what seems to be a freak accident with a laser carbine. This is the ninth time in as many days that the unit is forced to hospitalise members of the troop due to firearms related incidents."
Eggert ignored the rest of the report, detailing how the weapon had apparently suffered a very rare malfunction of the type only seen once in a million times, or if someone was dumb enough to actually place a finger between the power cell and the lasing tube, and placed a brown envelope on the desk before pushing it to Nikan, who looked down at it before raising an eyebrow in feigned interest.
"I trust you will find the orders inside to be in line with what you wish for. Lets just say that you and your boys will be working for the Commander from now on instead of the border troops. The budget is slightly higher as well."
Nikan opened the envelope and peeked at the letter inside. This time both his eyebrows responded in interest.
"Holy Ghu, you are serious, aren't you."
Eggert emptied his koffee cup, padded Nikan on the shoulder and stood up.
"You will see that we take care of our own Nice. The unit may still be named UPK, it may still smell of regular duty, but welcome to the farm."
He left Nikan to read all the stuff in small print by himself.
###
John Eldritch followed the come-along arrows through the park, until it arrived at a small stone bench that bordered a pond that was almost covered with Eo sea roses. The arrow stopped and pointed to the bench and he obligingly sat down. The rose garden that belonged to the Eo Sisterhood of The Rose was by far the largest collection of roses in the known 'Verse and it had taken him more than half an hour to walk the distance from the plasteel wall that surrounded the garden, which in turn surrounded the monastery. The building itself was shaped in the form of a rose petal, and the gardens surrounding were in turn a part of a larger rose petal, making the design somewhat fractal in nature. There was probably some deeper spiritual meaning with it, but John wasn't really all that interested.
It had been a long flight from Sedina via Dau. The shortest route would have been via the contested system Deneb, but the war there was in a more violent flux than usual, so John had been forced to take the long route through almost all of Itani space to reach Eo. It didn't matter; he had needed the cockpit time anyhow. The last weeks or so of being locked up in the ravaged station had just about driven him nuts; he needed the freedom to run off to wherever he felt like. Only Rose had made it tolerable.
A robed figure approached with the hood covering the head of the person, and a privacy shield in front of the hood to occlude the face. John was not fooled for a second, he would recognise the movement of Tohasandra Chi anywhere. He stood up and waited for her to come to him and sit down before seating himself again. Chi lifted her hands to the hood and took it away from her head, collapsing the privacy field at the same time. John's face lit in a grin as wide as the Cheshire Cat's.
"Chi, it is so good to see you again. I heard you were seriously injured, so I feared the worst. You look good!"
Chi folded her hands in her lap and smiled back, more guarded but genuine.
"I was in a pretty bad shape when they rescued me, but the physicians say that they can rebuild all of the parts that were really badly injured."
"Why don't you just activate a clone and re-animate?"
Chi slowly shook her head and placed a slender gloved hand on John's forearm.
"It is unlikely that my psyke would survive the transformation as it is now. Which is another reason for me to join the Sisters."
"Riiight, so you are here to stabilise and then to bounce right back into it?"
"Actually no. The primary reason I am here is to get sufficiently far away from everything to be able to de-couple myself from my former responsibility and the tasks I was forced to handle as a high-ranking guild member. Someone new needs to take over, and that cannot happen with me around all the time. Besides, I needed to get away from you John."
He pulled back and frowned deeply.
"What do you mean? I… What did I do?"
"Nothing bad, only good things John," she said quickly to calm him down. "And that is where the problem is. The situation was beginning to become complicated and it was starting to interfere with my work. I was starting to fall… No, I had fallen for you John. And that was a situation, which was not going to work. Ever."
John looked down at his fingers.
"Oh. I guess I knew, or sort of knew. But I think it is easier for me. Not as many strings." He grinned and then grunted, "not that is matters now. I am getting married you know?"
"Yes, I know and I am happy for you both. It will help me on my way to stabilise my psyke." A bell softly chimed and Chi looked up towards the main building. "I have to go now. Thank you for visiting me John. Please send my regards to Hortan. You better take good care of him."
She rose, lifted the hood around her head and disappeared behind the privacy screen that activated automatically. She lifted a finger to make him wait, rummaged around in her small pouch and lifted a single miniature rose from it. It was a thorn less Eo rose cut in smoky green emerald. She left it in the bench and walked with the same unhurried steps away from John as she had approached him with. He grabbed the emerald rose and noted the writing along its stem in stylised handwriting.
"Rose and John, from a friend."
The come-along arrows started flashing again. Time to go, time to move on.
###
The system was full of radar echoes from the remains of fighters and trade ships scattered about in semi-chaotic patterns emanating from where they had met their untimely and often spectacularly exploding deaths. Add to that the echoes from the destroyed cargoes, the ejecta from whatever miner's operation that had taken place here, and you had yourself a system that reflected radar energy in a uniform haze of echoes. Almost like flying in thick pea-soup fog. Not that Ecka had ever tried flying in fog, being a space born, raised and adapted inhabitant. But he had a picture of great-great-and pour-on-greats uncle Angus Estenk back from the days before the wormhole to old Earth had collapsed. A picture from a town called Glascastle or something similar, and in this picture was copious amounts of fog.
At least he knew precisely what he was looking for down to its elemental parts. It just so happened that the most common size of the pieces of disintegrated ship were about the same size as his target, adding to his task. The computer chimed softly and a frighteningly large number displayed on his screen.
"Och weel," he exclaimed to nobody in particular and started the business of sorting fakes from real echoes. A simple matter of applying some mathematics and some filters. The number was now reduced to a significantly less intimidating number, but still large. He started whistling a tune about some roads he had learned a long time ago by his gramps and set about identifying the fragments by pulsing each one of them with a low intensity laser and recording the backscatter. With three lasers and three optical pickups he reckoned it would take anything from a few seconds, if he was very lucky, to a couple of months if he had to identify every single one of them. He'd narrow it down by starting where his own ship had been destroyed and work out from there.
In the end it took some fourteen hours to find the cup and another nine minutes to scoop it up into his hold. The family heirloom was once more secure and in his possession. He held up the battered pewter cup and admired the dents; each one had a history and the three new scratches on the bottom was his addition to the family history. He fastened the cup to its usual location in the cockpit and chuckled to himself. Undoubtedly there would be new stories and rumours about his chase to find the cup. He reckoned that they'd focus on Ecka being miserly enough to use so much time to regain something that was his, or that he didn't want to spend the credits to buy a new one, preferring to add the extra fifteen hundred credits to his already immense hoard of credits. That particular hoard of credits that was so large that its mass was supposed to be able to bend light if it was ever paid out in standard 100 cred chits.
Fortunately none of them knew the truth; along the rim of the cup were the account number and the access code for his main bank account written in Braille. The cup in itself wasn't important other than for sentimental value. The writing, on the other hand, was worth billions of credits to the one that could decipher the script. And that was an okay hourly wage for some fifteen total hours of work. He continued to whistle the ancient song while he tapped his controls to set up for a route back to Dau.
And that should be that ladies and gents.
Sorry for being a slob lately with getting my paws around to type in the end, but such is life.
I know there are storylines that could be worked on, but such is the way of the VO verse I reckon.
I shall get oot of yer hair for naow!
Have fun,
YT
Sorry for being a slob lately with getting my paws around to type in the end, but such is life.
I know there are storylines that could be worked on, but such is the way of the VO verse I reckon.
I shall get oot of yer hair for naow!
Have fun,
YT
A good tale, thanks Hortan .